#monarch rooftop

[essektheylyss]

I am feeling great hearing that Keyleth's intel is reporting that Rexxentrum sounds like it's about to devolve into chaos with Dwendal evidently on death's door and the Assembly is about to eat itself from the inside following the Vanguard's movement, considering I was presuming that was going to be some significant fallout, but also, rip Caleb and his virtuous idealism for the Empire lmao.

[alphabetboyluvr]

the curious lifespan of migrating monarchs - jjk

THE CURIOUS LIFESPAN OF MIGRATING MONARCHS (& other aurelian affairs)

pairing: streamer!jk x international student!female oc (s2l)

warnings: strangers to lovers, clubbing, foul language, alcohol, vaping lol, jungkook is kinda famous, the oc is oblivious, the oc is also a foreign student who has very recently arrived in Korea!! (pls note - while i've been in korean uni dorms, i've never been in yonsei dorms specifically so don't shout at me if it isn't supeeeerr accurate), jaykay is speaking in eng for like 90% of this!!, i've also never watched a gaming streamer and had to do so for research lmao so there's a lot of guesswork going awwwn <3, the oc has tattoos, they bond over this, cute nicknames (tokki and nabi <3), one bed trope?? kinda, jaykay lives w/ yoongi and tae (they are streamers too (and dj?? (tae is a bit unhinged))), jungkook wears calvins!, a singular appearance of yoongi in his boxers!!, tipsy hookup, fingering, protected sex (woo!), desk sex, oral (m receiving), girliepop swallows <3, brief mentions of jungkook's starry eyes, lots of kisses, bunny ears, (1) mention of cross-fit

wordcount: 13011

note from holly: this was a commission done for the lovely Michelle over on my kofi page!! i don't open commissions often, but when I do I'm very lucky that the requests are so much fun. this actually ended up being way longer than it was supposed to be lol and is also available on wattpad!! also fun facts for you - I imagine the boys apartment (and jks room!) to be same as jk + jimins place in BD, just a little bigger lmao

minors dni // cross posted to wattpad

CLUB SUNDOWN WAUSAN-RO, HONGDAE SATURDAY 02:24

Time ceases to exist after the sun goes down in Seoul. It could be two, or it could be five. The only thing that really clues you in on the actual time is the DJ schedule that lights up behind the decks: 02:00-03:00, Blu-Tae.

It's some guy you've never heard of. Looks no older than you. Probably a student, just like the rest of the crowd.

His hair is as blue as his namesake, which does make you smile, and his choices aren't bad either (even if somewhat questionable). You've never heard a jazz remix of Darude's Sandstorm before, and you doubt you ever will again.

Club Sundown is just as rogue as the rest of the city after the sun goes down. Hidden in the basement—like all the best places in Seoul are—the small room is packed to the absolute brim.

Who cares for views and sunsets offered by rooftop bars when you could lose yourself in the debauchery of an eternal midnight, instead?

Drinks are spilt on strangers, and dances have lost the grandeur of old-fashioned waltzes. It's not like you could dance properly, even if you wanted to. There's just simply no space.

Like Alice, you're down the rabbit hole—and oh, how you prefer it to being in the real world. In the shadows, you can be anyone you like.

If you were sober, you'd know this is also the case for daily life. You're in a new country with no ties to your former self. Who you are is who you choose to be.

But the shadows aren't all that dark. The red lights of the club bleed into the cracks, painting everyone in the same subtle hue of danger.

They shine a little light on the identifiers of you; the thin black lines of your patchwork tattoos. Trailing up your arm, they're memories of your past selves, and an indicator of who you hope to become.

"Down this," you say to your dormmate, Rae, handing back over the drink you've just ordered from the bar. "Cloakroom, then dance."

Still carrying your winter coats, you'd wanted to check the place out before committing to it. Entry is free, but the cloakroom is the same price as a drink. It would only be worth putting your coats away if you knew you wanted to stay—and given the fact the DJ was playing O-Zone's Dragostea Din Tei as you entered, you know it's a no-brainer. While his stage name might make you roll your eyes a little, Blu-Tae certainly does cater to your tastes. When you're drunk, and music vibrates through you, it's empyrean. No place you'd rather be.

"Oh, Jesus," Rae gags as she sips the drink you've just handed her. Despite her disgust, she's laughing. Head to toe in black, dark hair loose around her shoulders, she's been your ride-or-die since you arrived in Seoul. Both international students in the same dorm, there's no one you'd rather get up to no good with. "Vodka?!"

You beam at her like you're from the heavens above, wrongfully relegated to the depths of sin. Pretend like you love vodka. It's totally not like you panicked when you saw the menu was all in Korean.

Vodka-coke is a universally understood delicacy—the easiest thing for you to order without making a tit of yourself or butchering the pronunciation. When the bartender ignored your botched attempt at ordering in Korean and answered in fluent English, you'd wanted to melt into the floor. So embarrassing.

You're here, like most foreign students, for a language course. Semester is yet to start, and as much as you've studied and practised hard, it's always different when putting it into practice.

"I'm sorry," you laugh. "It's fine—you can order next time!"

But Rae has the exact same predicament as you. If anything, your language skills are better than hers, so you really have no hope. It's vodka-cokes for the evening, or maybe highballs. Once your tipsy brain manages to compute hangul cocktail names, you'll be golden, but that won't be for another few weeks, yet.

You'll look back at this time of your life fondly, realising how simple it all was, even if it feels incredibly overwhelming right now.

Funnily enough, hope is exactly what you have: for the semester ahead, for this new life you're forging, for the opportunities that may come your way.

In fact, by the time you're on your third vodka coke, you've managed to convince yourself you actually like it. You also can't taste it, thanks to the bartender freepouring a 60-40 ratio of vodka to coke in the first drink. Your tastebuds were wiped out pretty much instantly.

Coats in the cloakroom, you're glad to be wearing thin layers. The room is stuffy; your skin sweaty. While meeting new friends had been the goal, you keep to yourself. Dance like nobody is watching. Hold Rae's hands to stay close and ward off weirdos. Quickly realise that clubs back home are slightly different. Pay it no mind. Ignore the intrusions of hands on waists, because men, disappointingly, are no different.

Or at least most of them aren't.

But most of them don't look like the man in the corner booth, laughing with his friends.

Though he is tall, he's eclipsed by his demeanour. Shoulders broad, he's in a dark T-shirt and pair of jeans. Nothing special. Nothing that warrants such a perplexed stare from you - but he's familiar. You can't place him, but he's got the kind of face you swear you've seen before.

Rae doesn't notice the change in your poise, nor how you're desperately trying to work out where you know him from. Perhaps you've seen him around your university? It's only been a couple of weeks, but people are steadily moving in. Maybe he works at the convenience store you constantly find yourself in? Or mans the front desk of the noraebang you and Rae visit pretty much every other evening?

Impossible, you think. If you'd seen him before, you wouldn't have forgotten him, or the way he constantly toys with his lip rings. Plural. There are signs up around the place stating bar rules. NO SMOKING is rule number three. You've seen his friends pass him over a vape a handful of times. Anyone else, and you'd think it was cringe. Embarrassing.

But in the midst of his laughter settling, and a fresh toke being inhaled, his eyes flicker towards yours.

Perhaps it's just because you're drunk, but you don't avert your gaze. Show no shame. The smile on his lips sinks into a smirk as he exhales. An acknowledgement. A 'hello, trouble'.

Again, any other man, you'd find the vape smoke repugnant. Nasty. Now? Watching the way he flicks his tongue against his lip rings?

You wanna know how it tastes.

Black ink weaves an intricate outline of who he is up his arms. Where he's been. Who he's been. A map, if you will, of his soul.

Much like your own tattoos, he's got thick black lines, and little else. Simple, you assume. A man of convenience. Efficiency.

You wonder if he does everything in life with the precision to match his tattoos, and as your lips wrap around the straw of your vodka-coke, you decide you'd quite like to find out.

Interrupted by Rae pulling you deeper into the crowd, your night is spent in and out of shadows. Attempt subtlety. Try not to make your occasional glances to the corner booth noticeable, just checking if his eyes are still on you. More often than not, they aren't—but sometimes they are, and that's enough to fuel your little flirt.

It's not until the sign behind the DJ booth changes from 03:00-04:00, GLOSS into some other guy that you notice your staring contest opponent has slipped into the shadows himself. The booth is void of both him and his friends. Gone.

"GLOSS has a set at another club," Rae all but yells in your ear, and even then, you barely hear her. "All the hotties left when he did. Let's go."

"Where to?!" You laugh, empty cup in hand. Admittedly, the new guy who's stepped into the DJ booth is just not doing it for you. Blu-Tae was just the right amount of unhinged with classics, whereas GLOSS was definitely cooler, but still fun. Had the club yelling curse words over trap remixes just for the fun of it. This new guy, whose name you don't care to remember, takes himself too seriously, you think.

"It's, like, two blocks down," she yells back, tugging on your wrist to drag you to the stairwell that leads you back up to the streets of Seoul. The hustle and bustle of people trying to go in different directions in the tight place forces you apart, but you figure you'll catch up with her, or that she'll be waiting at the top.

You don't know the roads well enough yet to make it to whichever club it's at alone, and quickly realise when you nearly tumble into the side of a waiting taxi that you're far drunker than expected. Knew the bartender was freepouring, but didn't realise just how free those pours really were.

"Woah, easy trouble," a deep voice sounds from behind you as you're steadied to a more stable position.

"I'm good, I'm good!" You insist, shaking off the hands of your 'saviour'. Have no interest in being a damsel in distress, or some sober guy trying to take advantage of you.

Looking down to check your laces are tied properly, you check over your shoulder to make sure the guy isn't creepily waiting for a thank you that he can turn into an intrusive game of 21 questions—'are you open-minded?' or 'do you live alone?'—but when you glance in his direction, you regret it. Notice the tattoos immediately. Recognise the eyes. Want to die.

"Oh."

"Oh," he says back with a smile, imitating you. Suddenly, the confidence you'd had earlier when looking at him from afar dissolves into nothingness, just like the alcohol in your bloodstream. You feel rather sober, but your body would definitely disagree. "You okay?"

"Yeah, yeah," you nod, suddenly a little stuck for words, desperately trying to play things cool. "Are you okay?"

The pouting of his lips as his tongue runs along the inside of his cheek only serves to make you internally cringe. Men who look like him have no business being on streets like this. Should be in a museum. Strung up on the walls with the other masterpieces. Admired by everyone who looks his way.

In a way you don't yet realise, he is.

Though he's not in galleries, he's often burning into people's laptop screens. Is the background of a fair few thousand lock screens. Indeed, he is admired by everyone who looks his way, just not in the traditional sense.

"I'm not the one who just fell into a car," he reminds you, as if you could forget your embarrassment so quickly.

"Was just seeing if you'd catch me," you bullshit, the confidence you usually have returning tenfold. Was just a momentary blip. He's just a man, after all.

"Oh?" He chirps, decidedly curious. "So you fell for me?"

"Stumbled."

"Semantics."

His fluency, and the fact he just said 'semantics' so casually in conversation, clues you in on the fact he might be a language student, too. 

Could be useful study partners for each other, you think, then mentally berate yourself for already masterminding ways to see him again.

"So, where you going?" He asks, not caring to downplay his curiosity. The bartenders were free-pouring his drinks just as severely as they poured yours. The only difference is that his were on the house—'cause you were right. He does have a recognisable face. "Should probably go with you. Make sure you don't fall into the road."

"Stumble," you insist, a little pleased with the boldness of his suggestion, but not wanting to blindly agree. "My friend," you say glancing around, only to find yourself completely alone. "She wanted to go catch the next GLOSS set. So, I guess that's where we're going."

"Just down the road," he says, knowing the schedule like the back of his hand. Bounces from club to club supporting his friends, just like they would for him. If he wanted, he could get a slot up there, too. He doesn't care for it. "I'll walk with you, if you want? My friends are heading there anyway."

It's not a bad offer.

In fact, it's probably the best offer you'll get all night.

"C'mon," he nods his head to the side, encouraging you to follow him. Checks his phone for the time. "Starts in five."

If there's one thing you've indulged in since moving to Seoul, it's how safe you always feel. Security cameras are on every corner, and you've walked home countless times without any issues, even late into the night. While the place isn't perfect, it's far safer than your home country.

Still, you're not a complete idiot.

"It's not wise to follow strange men down dark alleys," you tell him.

He holds out his hand. Waits for you to shake it. Cocks a brow when you hesitate, so introduces himself.

"Jungkook. Nice to meet you. Now, can we please hurry up? I promised I'd be there."

Narrowing your eyes, you don't shake his hand. Arms folded over your chest, there is ice to your exterior, and given how warm his eyes are, you doubt it'll last for very long. May as well keep up this hard-to-get act while you still can.

Walking on past him, you call back, "Alright then. Lead the way."

In the domed mirror meant for reversing cars at the end of a tight alley, you see him laugh. "Wrong way, idiot."

Pausing, you scrunch your face up. Don't turn to face him for at least a second or so—but when you do, you're surprised to see him walking towards you. Hooking his arm around your waist, he carries on walking in the 'wrong' direction, taking you with him.

"Was just fucking with you," he grins. Nods towards a sign by another basement entrance, listing both Blu-Tae and GLOSS.

By the door, Rae is looking around like a mother duck who's just lost some of her ducklings when crossing the road. Breathes a sigh of relief when she spots you.

"C'mon," she grins, then realises who you're with. Says nothing of it, 'cause she doesn't want to be weird, but she recognises him, too. Decides she's just had a little too much to drink. There's no way it's him. Holds out her hand for you.

Reaching out for her, you're let go from Jungkook's grip, ready to get lost in the lights once more.

HAEJANG24 WAUSAN-RO, HONGDAE SATURDAY 05:53

Seoul is a city for the nocturnal. The restaurants and bars are open until the last men are standing. Given how much you've had to drink, you're surprised you still are.

Rae had dipped an hour or so ago. Had hit it off with Mr Blu-Tae himself. Seduced him with the suggestion that their couple name would be Blu-Rae. He'd said they should go to a DVD-bang. Would be fitting. See what Blu-rays were on file.

Naturally, you'd looked on with mild disgust and also admiration for how quickly she'd worked her magic. Everyone knows what goes down in DVD-bangs. Small private rooms, often with projector screens and the world's least comfortable futons, they're somewhere you hope to never end up—but also can't wait to hear all the details the next morning when Rae comes to your room for a debrief.

You'd been left under the surveillance of Jungkook.

"Look after her," Rae had instructed, then narrowed her eyes. "Or I'll destroy your reputation with a single twitter thread, Tokki."

It's a threat he's taken seriously. Knows how the internet works, and even though he's never done anything worthy of a cancellation, he also doesn't intend on starting now. The fact you seem to have no idea who he is during the daylight hours intrigues him. It's a rarity on streets like these.

Even when a few people asked for pictures with him on your walk to the hangover soup place, you didn't clock it as weird. Figured they were friends passing by, wanting to document their chance run-in. Just another memory of the night. The way Jungkook had greeted them was full of warmth, and kindness. Why wouldn't you assume they were mates?

You were also still incredibly drunk at the time, so didn't think to question it. Was keen for food, and Jungkook had insisted on hangover soup, and so that's where you are. Dishes nearly empty, far more of it eaten by him than you, you're laughing about nothing and everything all at once.

"Right," Jungkook declares, deciding he cannot hold in a question that's been tickling at his brain for the entire meal. "What the fuck is that?"

Coat left in the cloakroom, long forgotten about, your tattoos are on full display for him, just like his are for you. Up your arm they trail; a patchwork of teeny tiny identifiers. Latin phrases around skulls, birth flowers of the people you hold close, butterflies and stars. There's an ode to your favourite musician and your favourite Shakespeare quote, too. The fabric of you etched into your skin. There's no reinventing yourself, even half the world away from home.

You know precisely which tattoo Jungkook is asking about. You've asked yourself the same question a few times.

"Fuck off," you laugh.

While most of your tattoos are gorgeous, there's one that was done by a rogue artist on a girlie holiday a few years ago. What was supposed to be a seashell now looks like... well, nothing really. It's just a blob, thanks to the artist being absolutely terrible. The only solace you find in it is that your two best friends have an equally awful permanent reminder of that holiday on their bodies, too.

"It doesn't look how it's supposed to," you explain with a little pout. "I got royally screwed over."

He cocks a brow. You still haven't told him what it is. He isn't gonna ask you twice.

With a grumble, you feebly admit, "A shell."

And then he's laughing. Really laughing. Laughing so hard you think he might piss himself—which you'd actually prefer, because then he could be the embarrassed one, instead.

"I'm calling you Shelly from now on," he says with a broad smile. Has had his fair share of tattoo blunders, and knows you must've developed an affection towards how shitty it is. Would have gotten it covered up, otherwise. "That's incredible."

"You're calling me so such thing," you assure him, but you also can't help but laugh.

"I am," he tells you, then really solidifies it. "Shelly."

"Fuck off," you whine, doubling down. Scanning his arms, you try and pick out anything you can use against him, too. "If I'm Shelly, then you're Mike."

"Mike?!" He protests.

"Yeah," you insist, pointing towards the microphone on his forearm. "Mike."

"You are not calling me Mike. Do I look like a Mike?!"

"Do I look like a Shelly?!"

You've got a point. It's not the name he would have first associated with you - but it is cute, he thinks. Cute how mortified you seem. Cute how you can't help but smile.

After a little bit of back and forth, it's decided that neither of you look like your namesakes.

"Y'know, we kinda have matching tattoos," he says, holding out his arm for you to study. "Or at least, the placements."

And sure enough, below his elbow lives the outline of a bunny sitting on a crescent moon. Holding your own arm out next to his, below your elbow is a butterfly. Above it, is a teeny tiny moon.

Like Jungkook's moon, it's a crescent. Was supposed to symbolise new beginnings. You wonder what his means, but don't ask. Instead, you marvel at the coincidence of it all.

He presses his index finger against the butterfly on the inside of your forearm. The echoing chatter of the restaurant fades softly into nothingness as he says, "Nabi."

You nod. Even if you have spoken with him in English this entire time, it's nice to hear him speak in his mother tongue, no matter how minimal - so you reciprocate. Press your index finger against his bunny. Smile. Say, "Tokki."

It further confirms to Jungkook that you have no idea who he is. Has been a while since he's met a girl in a circumstance like this where that's the case. Likes the anonymity of it all. Is hiding his identity from you, and yet hasn't felt such vulnerability for years.

"Daltokki, right?" You continue, not wanting the silence to linger for too long. "The rabbit in the moon?"

You're not wrong, but you're also not entirely right.

"Yeah," he smiles regardless. "That's it."

JUNGKOOK'S APARTMENT ITAEWON-DONG, YONGSAN-GU SATURDAY 07:12

"Shhh," Jungkook quietly laughs. 

His hand is over your mouth and the other is on your hip as he guides you into his apartment. With your back to his chest, you've both been giggling for the entire ride to his place.

He had insisted that he should walk you home, and was surprised by the offense you seemed to have taken by this. You then told him that he absolutely could not seduce you, and that it was very gender-role-conforming for him to think that you were incapable of getting home by yourself.

"Maybe I should be the one to make sure you get home safely," you had said with a false sense of concern, which had made him laugh quite considerably.

In all reality, you didn't mind him offering to get you home. You just hadn't tidied your room. Didn't really expect to be taking a boy back to your place, much less one that looks like him.

Together, you'd caught the early morning bus over to Itaewon instead of a taxi, 'cause you're still on a student budget and Jungkook wasn't quite ready to blow his cover just yet.

You've been teasing him—questioning his status as a potential International Super Spy—ever since he took your hand and guided you into one of the flashiest apartment complexes you've ever been in. There was security. Doormen. A passcode for the elevator—not to mention that he was heading up to the seventh floor once you were in it. Might not sound like much, but when there are only seven floors to the entire building, it makes it the penthouse by default.

"It's not a penthouse," he'd insisted. "Plus, I live with friends. Only pay a third of the rent."

But a third of his rent is more money than you'll probably see in three months of post-grad work. You're drunk, but you're not stupid. You also know that the rental market here differs significantly from your home country. Monthly rent is cheap, but the deposits are extortionate. Sure, he'll get it back when he leaves, but to have the initial money needed for a place like this? He's not a regular student, if one at all, that much is sure.

"Not sure who's home," Jungkook whispers as you both kick your shoes off in the entryway. Given the looks of the other shoes, it's clear that this is a guys-only living situation. You're proven right when he continues, "Betcha Tae's still in that damn DVD-bang, but Yoongi might be back."

"Yoongi?" You question.

"GLOSS," Jungkook says, remembering how oblivious you are to who he is. Reaching down to grab your shoes, he isn't gonna leave them by the door. Will take them to his room. Doesn't want the boys asking questions, if they are in. Knows they'll just use it as an excuse to publicly roast him whenever they're next online together.

Given that a stream is scheduled for Sunday night, he doesn't want to tempt fate.

Their current choice of wind-up, which the viewers have been eating up, is the joke that Jungkook is a virgin. He's not, but he never knows how to defend himself without sounding like a tool, so always gets a little awkward. A lot of their viewers love it. Join in on the joke. Some take it seriously. He doesn't care.

Next month, Taehyung will do something dumb, and he'll become the favourite joke for a while. Maybe Yoongi. But for now, it's Jungkook.

None of them take it to heart. They're just a group of friends who share their gaming hangouts online, and accidentally made it to the top of the ranks.

They aren't particularly good at gaming, but that's part of the charm. Crescent Collective is how they're known: Blu-Tae, GLOSS and Tokki.

After a bet went wrong, and they all lost, they ended up with moon tattoos and their respective 'symbols'. Jungkook's is a rabbit, Tae's is a blu-ray DVD disk (because he really is committed to the bit), and Yoongi's is stars to symbolise the shine of fresh gloss. Jungkook's makes the most sense. Yoongi's is pretty decent. Taehyung's is just... Well, it's very him.

Sliding open the door into the main living area, Jungkook has to cover your mouth again when you gasp at the sheer size of the place.

"I thought butterflies were supposed to be silent?" He teases. "Quiet for me, Nabi."

His place is bigger than your family home, you think. Hushing you again, he's laughing—and then he's cursing at the sight of a half-naked Yoongi by the kitchen counter.

In his boxers, with half a clementine slice hanging from his lips, he's just as shocked to see Jungkook with you. Gets over it pretty quickly.

"Don't mind me," he says, chewing down on the fruit with a smirk. Looks towards you. "Apologies for the lack of clothes."

With your shoes hooked on his fingers, Jungkook's other large hand is still over your mouth. You're not sure you can form any words as it is, but you do notice the crescent moon and stars on Yoongi's ribs.

"Not a word to Tae," is all Jungkook says. Knows that he'll be in for a world of teasing tomorrow if he gets wind of it. "I mean it."

Holding his hands up, Yoongi's still smirking, but he is backing away into a room just off the kitchen. "My lips are sealed."

Watching as he closes the door, you wonder how much truth is in his words. Jungkook knows it's absolute bullshit. Chooses not to dwell on it. Loosens his grip on you and heads towards his own room. Turns back to check you're following him, and can't help but smile when he knows that you are.

Tossing your shoes just inside the door, Jungkook is quick to pick up a pair of jeans he'd left on the floor, before chucking them over his desk chair. He tweaks his bedding. Straightens it out. Looks a little shy as he turns to face you.

"Made it home safe," he says quietly, as you close the door behind you.

You nod. Keep a little distance. Say, "It's dangerous to sleep after drinking. Make sure you build a tower of pillows in the middle of your bed so you don't roll onto your back."

Both of you are far more sober than you were earlier. There's no need to worry about anything like that.

And yet he nods, now. Says, "You're probably right. You can always stay, though. Just to check I don't die in my sleep, or whatever."

"It'd be the responsible thing to do," you nod, wondering if he can tell just how fast your heart is beating. "But I don't have any pyjamas."

Jungkook swallows. The way he looks at you now is entirely different to how he'd looked at you in the club. Back then, he'd been bold. Flirtatious.

Now, he seems vulnerable. Needy.

"I sleep in my underwear," he tells you, unsure if you'll actually be sleeping. While he likes the idea of fucking you, part of him doesn't want to. Fears it'll ruin the magic of the unknown. The way he throbs at the mere thought of it would suggest that his hopes outweigh his fears. "I don't mind, if you don't."

The clothes Jungkook's wearing are baggy. You've seen nothing of his figure.

Reaching for the nape of his neck, he tugs on the fabric of his T-shirt. Pulls it over his head and discards it in one swift movement. The sound of it crumpling on the floor is abrasive in how it makes you feel. Raw. Unrefined. You suppose it's just a natural consequence of seeing the toned muscles of his chest. How his waist defies what you thought was possible for masculine builds, and how broad his chest is. The indent of his collarbones, and the lines of his pelvis that draw your eyes downwards.

A pair of Calvins peek just above the waistband of his jeans, and a silver chain rests around his neck. Light from the city filters in, and LED lights around his impressive computer set-up paint him in a hue of violet.

"No," you manage to reply, which is a miracle, you think. "I don't mind."

And then you reciprocate. Reach for the hem of your shirt and pull it over your head, letting the fabric fall to the floor. Seeing him swallow back his nerves, or maybe his desires, makes you feel far bolder than you should.

"It's really uncomfortable to sleep in jeans," you tell him.

He nods. Agrees. Threads the button of his trousers through its loop. Doesn't take them off yet. Waits for you to do the same. Keeps his eyes firmly locked on yours. Doesn't let his gaze wander, no matter how much he has to fight all his instincts not to fully take you in. Is still pretending like he doesn't want you in the most indecent of ways.

The room you're in right now is known worldwide. 

People set it as their zoom backgrounds. It's on Pinterest. There are YouTube videos attempting to recreate the set-up. If he were to power up his computer—which, in all fairness, is only on standby—and go live, there'd be a thousand viewers within minutes. Doesn't matter what he plays, or who he's with. He doesn't give it much thought anymore. Is just life.

Sometimes, he regrets not being a faceless streamer, but he also knows that it's part of the appeal. Connection, and the fantasy that comes with this almost dystopian, parasocial idea of it.

After all, the meeting of his eyes with yours across a busy club led you to this point. Human connection in the simplest of ways, that he thinks could culminate in the most complex of ways, too.

"Okay," he says. "So take them off."

"You want me to?" You ask just to tease a little bit, and when a smile flickers onto his seemingly nervous lips, you're glad you did.

"You think we'd be here right now if I didn't?" He says with a tweak of his brows.

"You've got a point."

With that, you push your jeans down and reveal the matching set of black underwear you're in. It's nothing special. In fact, it's not really a set, but it's close enough that it'd fool anyone who didn't know.

Jungkook, in this moment, is indeed a beautiful fool.

There's a lopsided grin on his face as he lets his eyes rake down your body. Is shameless as he indulges in you. Nods, as he bites down on his bottom lip.

"It's cold," you tell him, urging him along a little bit.

"Shit," he says without much thought. "Sorry. Was just... Yeah. Shit."

It's both endearing and wholly confusing how Jungkook flips from confident to cute. A man of duality. It makes you giggle, and then you're the one biting down on your bottom lip. Are both a little bashful. A little shy.

"I'm only here to make sure you don't die in your sleep," you remind him before it goes any further.

Looking at him now, knowing you want him in the worst of ways, it's testing all of your willpower not to just cut to the chase.

Thing is, you liked his company tonight. Want it again. Want to give him a reason to seek you out once more. Want him thinking about you in clubs, and looking for you in crowded bars. Pining. Yearning. Needy.

"It's already gone seven," he tells you, walking towards his bed. Knocks his head to the side. Silently tells you to follow suit. "Will probably only get a couple hours in."

"Better than nothing. Plus, you're actually really irritating," you bullshit as you get into bed with him. Are adamant you won't fuck him, but you do let him pull you in closer.

"Oh, yeah?" He grins.

"Mhmm," you nod, pretending as if you aren't looking at his lips. "You'll be less annoying when you're asleep."

"I'm never gonna sleep again," he assures you. "Will annoy you forever."

"I know where the front door is," you say as you stroke a few of his loose, wavy hairs back behind his ears. They fall freely almost right away, but it just gives you another excuse to play with it "I can just leave. I'm only here to make sure you don't die in your sleep. Pointless if you're awake."

"So I have to be asleep for you to stay?"

"Mhmm," you hum.

He immediately loosens his grip on you and flops into an overdramatic sleeping position. Fake snores. Gets you giggling. Can't hide his smile, either. Laughs through the god-awful noises he's making.

But it is late, and you're both tired. As much as he'd like to stay awake with you, the pull of sleep is just too tempting now that you're beneath his sheets. It's not like he doesn't wanna fuck you. His semi is very much present, but neither of you mention it.

"Y'know what's sad about butterflies?" Jungkook mumbles after the laughter dies down. He carefully begins to trace the lines of your tattoo, eyes entirely focused on the tip of his finger.

You purr a response before you fully vocalise one. "Tell me."

He glances up at you only very momentarily. Looks back down. Is quiet when he says, "How quickly they die. Spend over half their lifespan growing into these beautiful creatures, and then they have, what—A week? Two? Three, tops—and then they're gone. It's like the cherry blossoms in spring. Beautiful, and then—" He clicks his fingers. "—gone."

Stroking back some loose strands of his hair, you wonder if he's thinking about you. About this chance encounter. Beautiful, then gone.

"Just means you have to appreciate them while they're still around," you say softly. "Cherish them, because you know you only have them for a moment."

His gaze lifts to meet yours. The reflection of his LED lights makes it seem like butterflies are floating around in his deep, dark eyes, too.

There are stories he could tell you of ancient folklore; about human souls taking the form of butterflies. Of justice, and peace, and spirits. Of back in time, when tigers still smoked. He could tell you of his favourite butterflies. Of the black butterflies that are as large as his hands in the summer. Of the huge display in a museum downtown that would transfix him as a child.

Instead, he gently presses his lips against the lines of your butterfly tattoo.

The rate at which your heart is beating multiplies. Like a swarm of butterflies chasing through your veins, you've no control over the way you're feeling. He's brought your artwork to life; set the souls inside of your butterfly free, only for it to be apparent that the souls belonged to the both of you, anyway.

You know that this is one of those moments; a butterfly passing on by through your lives. Here, and then gone. Beautiful, but fleeting.

There's a shyness to Jungkook now, as he rolls onto his back. A reluctance to get things wrong. He doesn't look at you, just nibbles on his bottom lip and pretends as if the empty white ceiling ahead of him is the most interesting thing he's seen all night.

It's not.

You are.

You, and those eyes that make him feel like the butterfly on your arm is tickling at his tummy. He finds himself jealous when he faces you again and begins tracing the thin lines of your butterfly once more. Wants to embed himself into you like the ink that's carved out a home in your skin.

"Sorry," he mumbles, seemingly regretful of the tender kiss he'd pressed against your arm just a short moment ago. "Don't know why I did that."

"It's okay," you reply without much thought. Like him, you're letting the way you feel dictate the words you say. Care not for playing coy. "I liked it."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Jungkook wants to stop his mouth from letting his desires escape. The issue is, he drank a little too much tonight and his lips are a little too loose. Too bad. Can't help himself from asking, "Can I do it again?"

You're just as bad.

"Yeah," you whisper. "Please."

The way his lashes splay against his cheeks as he presses another kiss to your arm is nothing short of celestial. Like that damn moon on his arm, he's got a beauty about him that's hard to capture in words. Ethereal feels too fantastical, but gorgeous feels too dense. He resides in a realm somewhere between the two. Somewhere you'd like to stay forever.

Forever, sadly, only lasts a few hours. You've brunch plans with new friends you can't bail on yet for fear of running a friendship before it's even begun.

You see yourself out. Jungkook's still asleep. Not quite 10AM, you've a dozen missed calls from Rae, and a cold can of coke waiting for you in your fridge. Funnily enough, though, you don't really feel hungover. Must have gotten it all out of your system the night before.

It's only fitting, when you think about Jungkook on the subway home, and how soberingly drunk the idea of him makes you feel. 

YONSEI UNIVERSITY DORMS DAESIN-DONG, SEODAEMUN-GU SUNDAY 21:39

Brunch had, predictably, been a yawn-fest.

The people were perfectly nice, but you spent the entire time thinking about Jungkook; how you'd left him in a pretty slumber, the LEDs behind his computer still glowing, with not even so much as a note to say thank you.

It's not like he had any paper on his desk, and you weren't about to start rummaging around his room. You also didn't want to wake him. Part of it was because you knew you'd be saying goodbye, and the concept of that was one that you didn't like all that much.

And so your subway ride back to your dorm had been spent searching his name. He didn't take long to find. 

From the club's Instagram, you found GLOSS and quickly discovered that there was far more to both him and Blu-Tae than just being DJs. Their follower counts were wild. Numbers you know you'll never see on your own account. Verification check marks accented their display names. 

Who are you? You'd thought to yourself, incredibly perplexed by it all.

Jungkook was littered all over their pages, and yet it still took a while for you to click through to his account. You're not sure why, but think that perhaps the unknown was a nice place to reside within. Safer. 

CR3SC3NT_T0KK1 was his username—and curiously, Tokki was also his display name. Brows furrowed, you'd almost dropped your phone when you saw his follower count. It eclipsed both of his friends. 

Filled with gaming set-ups, merch drops, and general life dumps, it was pretty clear that whoever Jungkook had made himself out to be the night before was not who he was in real life. 

Equal parts offended and intrigued, you were only more confused when you saw that Rae was already following him—but not following Taehyung.

"What?" she'd beamed when you'd asked her about it after you'd arrived home from brunch, a scoop of hangover ice cream being waved around in the air with her flamboyant gestures. "He's, like, one of the biggest streamers in the country—and if I want to keep Tae obsessed with me, we need as many connections as possible. Jungkook's a frog to me, baby, not a prince. Don't you worry your little cotton socks. I'm not after him."

"I wouldn't care if you were," you'd blatantly lied in response, and then you'd giggled together at how ridiculous you were both being over boys you didn't really know.

Hovering over the bright purple 'JOIN STREAM' button later that evening, part of you holds back. Think it'd be weird. Strange. That he'd somehow know it was you.

Dipping your mouse, you tick the checkbox to join as an anonymous viewer. Take a breath. Think fuck it. Watch with bated breath as the loading wheel turns—and then he's there.

Jeon Jungkook has the kind of beauty that transcends shitty quality streams. Smiling as he jokes with one of his friends through a headset with a pair of black bunny ears affixed to the top of them, you hear a voice you almost recognise. Notice the friend he's streaming with in the top corner. Realise you do know him, too.

Hair as blue as the trees are green, Tae has just as much boyish charm as Jungkook, but also an incredibly large hickey that seems to match the ones on Rae's neck.

"Nah, can we get an L in the chat for Kook," he's teasing. Sure enough, the chat begins to explode with the letter, and Jungkook looks so pretty when he protests.

"It's not an L!"

"It is!" Tae insists. "Should have seen him, guys. Was following this girl around like a lovesick puppy—"

"No, I wasn't!"

"And she didn't even give him her number. Not even her name!"

"That's not true!" Jungkook whines. He switches between Korean and English with ease, sometimes just single words, other times whole sentences. "I have a name."

"What is it?"

"Not telling you."

"Cause you don't have one!"

"No, because you'll all make my life a living hell," Jungkook laughs—and then notices a bright blue comment lighting up in the chat. His eyes widen. "Fuck."

GLOSS: Was calling her Nabi when he got home last night Almost shit his pants when he saw me

"Yoongi, I'm gonna shave your eyebrows off in your sleep," Jungkook growls—only for the chat to start spamming butterfly emojis. Closing his eyes, he leans back in his chair, the still paused video game long forgotten about, now. Thousands of people are in their chat, and even more are watching the stream.

"Guys, get it trending," Taehyung goads. "Tweet, I dunno, bunny and butterfly emojis."

"Don't do that!"

"Hashtag find Jungkook's butterfly."

"Do NOT do that!"

"I'm like a modern-day cupid," Taehyung beams.

"I'm shaving your eyebrows, too."

Closing the stream, you sit for a moment, mouth ajar, unable to process what on earth you've just witnessed. Part of you feels as if it must have an incredibly vivid daydream; a projection of your heart's desire.

And you know you shouldn't, but when you get home from running errands the following day, you join the stream again. Blush when you notice the chat is still teasing Jungkook.

"I'm gonna block you all," he threatens them with a grin, which only encourages them to send even more butterfly emojis.

The next day is no different, nor the day after that.

He is, though. Has been letting it all play on his mind. Doesn't have much of a filter when it comes to streaming.

"What if she didn't even like me, guys," he whines to the chat. "And sees this and is like... mortified. I think I'd punch myself in the face if she ever saw any of this."

You toy with the idea of sending a comment into the chat. Something that only he'd realise was you. Thing is, you feel bad for intruding. As if you shouldn't be prying. As if you're eavesdropping on him chatting with friends, and not on the stream he's broadcasting live around the world.

Typing out a message, you deliberate your choice.

Punch urself in the face pls, tokki x the message reads. 

Simple. Effective. To the point.

But everyone calls him that, you stupidly realise, now.

And so you change the name to 'Mike'. 

Before you can even really realise what you've done, you've pressed send.

The message flitters into the chat feed. He's about to resume his game. Doesn't notice it at first.

Gives the chat one final glance, and then his eyes widen. He sits up taller. Straighter. "Mike?"

You close the lid of your laptop immediately.

"Fuck."

THE STREETS WAUSAN-RO, HONGDAE FRIDAY 23:51

"Tae is on in five," Rae squeals, dragging you down the road at lightning speed. 

You'd spent far too long at dinner, and also had far too much to drink with your food, so have been forced to make an undignified sprint to the club in an attempt to make it in before the place reaches capacity.

There's already a queue. You can see it from a mile away.

Realistically, Rae could have gotten Taehyung to add her to the guest list. He'd offered. She didn't wanna look needy, so had played it coy about her plans for the evening. 

After a single beer and soju, she'd decided that the idea of him hooking up with anyone but her simply wouldn't do.

"Shit," she sighs in defeat, looking at the queue. The direction you've come from means that you reach the entrance before you reach the queue, but even then, you can tell it goes around the block. "Are there no other clubs these people can go to?!"

There are—but this club is rammed tonight for the same reason Club Sundown was rammed the week before. People want to see the Crescent Collective. 

You didn't realise it at the time, but you'd bypassed the queue of the second club last weekend because Jungkook had been with you.

And as if by a stroke of luck, or perhaps a twist of fate, the same tattooed hand that had held you as you slept last weekend is now putting out a cigarette just a few steps away.

Eyes landing on yours, he looks away again, almost immediately. Feels embarrassed. Stupid. For the way you left him, and also for the way he knows you must know who he is, now.

Behind a red rope, he's away from the general crowd. It's sort of obnoxious, you think—but also know Jungkook is anything but.

"They're with me," Jungkook says to the bouncer, not really looking at you, but nodding in your general direction. Is deliberately keeping a little distance. Instead, he says to Rae, "Tae wouldn't want you waiting in line."

Nodding, the security guard makes way for you, stamping the backs of your hands with UV-activated ink as you walk past.

"Thank you!" Rae beams.

"No worries," Jungkook smiles right back. "He's about to start. Was just getting air. You're lucky you arrived when you did."

"Angel," she praises. "I'll get you a drink while we're in there."

You know her well enough now to know that she absolutely will not, but you don't say anything. Instead, you fold your arms over your chest as you walk, suddenly feeling all awkward in Jungkook's presence.

"Nabi," he curtly greets you as you head down the stairs.

"Tokki," you greet him back just as formally. Consider calling him 'Mike' instead, but you chicken out.

Face scrunching up, Jungkook tries his best not to cringe at himself. Doesn't know if you're addressing him by his tattoo moniker, or just calling him Tokki because you know it's his identifier online.

"How have you been?" He asks, not wanting to let it simmer.

"Alright," you say, aware of how awkward this all feels, as you descend the stairs and into the club. The music is getting louder, and soon you won't be able to hear him talk unless you're in each other's ears. "And you?"

"Alright."

Just as quickly as he appeared, Jungkook is lost to the crowd. 

He doesn't care to stick around if he's just going to be hung out to dry by you again. He tells himself that he only made sure you got in to keep Rae happy for Taehyung's sake—yet as he rejoins his friends in their booth, he finds himself desperately seeking you out again.

It takes him a while, but he eventually spots you by the bar in conversation with Rae. He can't make out what you're saying, but notices how your eyes are flickering around the room. Seems as if you're hunting for something. 

Deep down, even if he pretends like he doesn't, he hopes it's for him.

Pulled away from your search by the bartender passing over drinks to the pair of you, Jungkook feels bad. Knows the drinks are pricey in this place. Also knows, from the conversations you've already had, that you're on a tight budget. Had said that once the semester starts, you'll stop going to parties. Are seemingly unaware of the fact the parties never stop in this city. You'll learn.

When your eyes finally land on his a little while later, you're surprised by his intense gaze—intrigued by his lack of shame for being caught out. He doesn't look away or appear embarrassed. If anything, it's quite the opposite.

Girls are vying for his attention all around him, yet you receive all of it. Half the room away, hundreds of people create a sea between you both. Jungkook thinks he'd swim through it, no matter how choppy the water, if it meant he could have you right now.

You're the one who left, though. 

It's up to you to come back.

Part of you doesn't want to, but then you see another girl making advances, and Rae's horror over other girls trying it on with Taehyung seems to have rubbed off on you. The idea of it makes your skin crawl. You're drunk, and a little reactive, but Jungkook likes playing with fire.

As you work your way through the crowd towards him, he tries his best not to grin. Finds himself vindicated in his desire to be close to you, 'cause it seems like you want it, too.

Sliding in between Jungkook and the girl, you turn and apologise.

"Just need to borrow him for a second," you smile, clutching at his shirt and pulling him away from the booth before she even has a chance to protest.

With an ever-so-satisfied smirk, Jungkook shrugs towards the other girl, and lets you drag him wherever you want. He's putty in your hands, a little tipsy and desperately in need of attention from you. 

For the past week, he's played scenario over scenario over scenario in his head about this moment, and now that it's happening, he's glad he let you seek him out. Is so pleased that you actively want him just as much as he wants you.

In the middle of the crowd, you're hidden from prying eyes. It's too dark to notice any discerning features of the people around you, yet somehow, Jungkook seems like a vibrant golden light to you. Impossible to miss. Unable to ignore.

You wanna talk. Ask him about who the fuck he is. Explain that you didn't mean to leave so heartlessly.

Taehyung's set is so overwhelmingly loud, though. Can barely even hear yourself think.

As soon as he'd spotted Rae in the crowd, Taehyung had sent the bar coordinator to go and get her. She's sitting pretty up in the DJ booth, incredibly pleased with herself. Notices you and Jungkook almost immediately. Knows it'll be on Twitter in the next few hours, especially if that damn butterfly tattoo of yours is noticed.

Bunnies and butterflies have been trending for days.

Jungkook speaks, but you can't hear him.

"Huh?" You ask, getting on your tippy toes, but it's fruitless. Even as his hand drops to your waist to steady you and keep you in place, you can barely make out his words. "I can't hear you!"

He can't hear jack shit, either. Frowns. Looks around. Spots Yoongi by the booth and gestures towards the side of the room. When Yoongi nods back, it's Jungkook who drags you through the crowd, now. Just beyond the DJ booth is a little black door that Yoongi meets you by. Taps in the code. Nods in your direction.

"A pleasure," he says with a knowing smirk. Miraculously, you can hear him, but ultimately, it's because you're not in the direct line of the speakers now.

You don't get a chance to respond before Jungkook gets you into what can only described as a dark hole as quickly as he can. Romance, you think to yourself, but you also are very aware of the fact Jungkook doesn't let go of your hand, even when he's searching for the light switch. It takes him a second, but he manages to recall the approximate location quickly enough.

Dingy yellow light floods into the room. Small and boxy, it's a 3-in-1 storage room, bathroom, and dressing room for 'talent'. It's why Yoongi had the code, but you can't imagine anyone with any shred of self-respect actually using this place. The walls are the same grey tiles as the floor, and the light bulb hangs from a wire without a shade. The tap on the sink drips, and you're pretty sure there's a leak in the far corner by the mirror.

None of that matters, though. All you can focus on is the man in front of you. Though not soundproof, the room does offer a far more muted version of Taehyung's set. More importantly, it provides you with privacy.

It's been a week since you last saw him, face to face.

Though you have, admittedly, seen him what feels like a million times on low-quality streams from his bedroom.

Realistically, it's been about three times, but you think about it almost constantly.

"You left," is all he says, a little pout on his lips.

It's cute, you think, that he is so outwardly offended by such an act. You would have thought that a man of his position would have a habit of leaving, himself. Then again, you didn't know of his status when you left him in bed that morning.

"And you didn't die," you reply with a teasing smile, trying not to make it sound so severe. "You were fine without me."

"I'm not joking," he says, even if he can't help but smile at the recollection of how stupid the conversation before bed had been. "You left. It was rude."

"I had brunch plans," you tell him, reaching your hands out for his. He wants to resist. Fails. Lets you pull him closer. Incredibly close, in fact. So close that you begin to notice all sorts of things. His freckles. A small scar on his cheek. A tiny fleck of glitter on his skin, no doubt from one of the girls who had been desperate for his attention earlier. "You'd only had a few hours sleep. I didn't want to disturb you."

"Could have left a note," he says, still pouty but far quieter. You can smell the Jack on his breath. Have always hated the taste, but think you could grow to like it. "Your number. Something, at least."

"I could've," you admit, edging even closer. Closing the gap. Nudging your nose against his. But then you smile. Pull back. Tease, "And you could have warned me that I'd become a trending topic on Twitter."

Just like that, Jungkook's pout snaps into the prettiest smile. His face scrunches up, lines creasing on his nose. Beneath his closed eyes reside the sweetest little puffs. He's got the kind of face that is impossible not to like.

"Ah," he cringes.

"Yeah," you laugh at the stupidity of it all. What did he expect? That you wouldn't find out? "Ah."

"In my defence," he holds his hands up, eyes wide and innocent. "You called me Tokki. How was I to know you didn't know?"

"Oh, give over," you laugh, as he reaches for your hands once again. Pulls you closer. "You know I didn't know."

Truthfully, he does know this, but it was nice to be unknown for a little while. Nice to not second guess your intentions. Even now, knowing that you know, he feels like none of it matters. 

"Look," he begins, toying with the hem of your cropped shirt. Lets his fingertips graze your bare skin. Tries his best not to think about what you look like half-naked. Fails. "I only came out tonight 'cause I hoped I'd see you. I don't care about staying out till ass-o'clock, again."

"Think I've only just caught up on sleep," you hum, angling your chin up and giving him the perfect opportunity to make a move that goes beyond flirtatious touches.

"Exactly," he smiles, letting his hand squeeze the side of your waist. Pulls you closer. "And I've not drunk half as much tonight, but I think I could do with you making sure I don't die, again."

"Yeah?"

Nodding as he nudges his nose against yours, Jungkook is all smiles. Lets his lips line up against your pout.

"Yeah," he mumbles—then lets the word get lost in your lips.

Sinking into what it feels like to kiss you, Jungkook can't help but feel satisfaction. Has finally caught the damn butterfly he's been after all week. 

He's played a lot of games. Won a lot of battles.

And yet victory has never tasted so sweet.

JUNGKOOK'S APARTMENT ITAEWON-DONG, YONGSAN-GU SATURDAY 02:07

You retrace your steps. Get a taxi to his place, 'cause there's no point pretending like he can't afford it. Not anymore.

You're not giggling like you were the first time you were in his elevator, but it's kind of impossible to do so when your back is to the wall and Jungkook's tongue is in your mouth.

Your hands roam his body—waist, ass. If you can squeeze it, you will. Just makes him deepen the kisses. If his large hands weren't cupping your jaw, keeping you close, they'd be doing the exact same thing as yours.

The ding of the elevator pulls you apart just for a second, and then you're the one pulling him down to the corridor to his place.

He doesn't open the door. Just kisses you again. 

Finally understands what it means to get butterflies, 'cause he's got you, now, and he never wants to lose it.

Hooking his hands beneath your ass, he hoists you up. Gets your legs wrapped around him. Could go in, but where's the fun in that? There's a slight danger of getting caught. He knows the hallway security cameras will definitely pick this up. The threat that it could get leaked online, and the simple fact that he couldn't give a shit if it does, is kind of hot.

"I'm not fucking you out here," you tell him through a hushed giggle, when he rests his forehead against yours.

"Woah," he jokes. "Who said anything about fucking?"

"I can literally feel your boner, Jungkook."

"Touché."

He doesn't even attempt to downplay it. He puts you down. Gets you through the threshold of his apartment. Shoes off by the door, there's no need to be quiet. Yoongi and Taehyung are still out, and will be for hours. He could take his time if he really wanted.

But what he wants is you. Doesn't waste time. Gets you in his room. Kinda feels like you never left. Jungkook still wishes you hadn't, but doesn't mind the idea of you making it up to him now.

"So," you hum, trailing your fingertips across his desk. "This is where the magic happens?"

He smiles a little bashfully, head dropping for a moment before his eyes are on yours again. "Yeah. You could say that."

Now that you're back in his space, it's a little embarrassing just how many clues there were. A headset rests on the desk—black, robust, with his signature bunny ears secured on top—and a mic is hooked up by the monitor. The webcam doesn't look special, but the keyboard subtly glows in his darkened room. Violet, like the LEDs behind his screen.

A laptop covered in vinyl stickers is closed next to the set-up. He uses it when he's not streaming on his desktop. At least three of the stickers are of the Crescent Collective's logo.

Turning to fully face him, you rest your palms behind yourself and perch on the edge of the desk.

He gets a little kick out of seeing you so flippantly disregard the domain in which he dominates. Gives him a point to prove. Gets him closing the space between you, hands on your waist, dipping to your ass to leverage further back on his desk. Knows it's sturdy, 'cause he built it himself, but has never tested out quite how strong it really is. Thinks now's as good a time as any to find out.

Your legs wrap around his body with no thought, just the innate understanding that you want him in a way you're sure thousands of people have only dreamt of: in his room, on his desk, that damn 'Go Live' button just a few short clicks away.

Reaching beside you, there's a smirk on your lips as you retrieve his headset. Put it on him. Say, "The ears are cute, Tokki."

He rolls his eyes. Is fighting a smile, and currently losing. He's seen some lewd shit during his time on the internet and is well aware of the fanart that includes the ears and little else. Always found it kinda funny, before.

Now? He's so hard it almost hurts, and he thinks he could grow to like it.

As your arms drape over his shoulders, he takes them off. Puts them on you, instead. Adjusts the sizing. Gets them just right for you. Is attentive, like that. Pulls his head back a little, and then realises what a problem you're gonna be for him.

It's not so much the addition of animal ears that's getting him insatiable, but seeing you adorned with a crown that is so inherently his that does it.

Jungkook's no saint. He's had his fair share of one-nighters. A couple hours of fun never to be spoken of again. Since the group of them signed to their management agency, they've been repeatedly told how important it is to get NDA's signed. Something about it always feels so icky to Jungkook. Cruel, almost. Has only had a couple hook-ups since then, both with flings he's known for a good couple of years, with no fear of them spilling the beans on how prettily he whines when he cums.

You're the first new girl in a long time. He knows he should really pause things before you cut to the chase—but then your hand is trailing down his thick forearm, delicately stroking his rabbit moon with a curious smile. Decides he doesn't care.

"The ears are cute," he replies. Teasingly adds, "Nabi."

The position of your arms over his shoulders ensures the tattoos he'd traced the week before are fully displayed for him. As his eyes drop to your butterfly, you're curiously smitten by the way his lips move to press a kiss against it again.

"Suit me?"

"Mhmm," he hums, eyes flickering back up to yours. "Should also get you a pair of butterfly wings, or something."

"I'd make you wear them," you tell him with a cheeky glint in your eye. "Turn you into a butterfly, yourself. Your girlies in the chat would love that."

Jungkook knows without a shadow of a doubt he'd let you. Not for the girlies in the chat, but for you.

Ghosting his lips against yours, he's waiting for you to press down. Is letting you take the lead.

Your kisses are sweet. Tepid. Reserved.

You're feeling; his hands on your waist, the pressure of his lip rings, the presence of his nose.

And then he's feeling; your bare skin as his large hands slip beneath the fabric of your shirt, the way your legs wrap around him, the vibration of a small groan against his lips.

The skirt you're in is bunched around your hips, and the positioning is just right for you to feel how hard he is against your underwear. It's a little undignified, you'll admit, but you're impatient, so you take control. Reposition his hand between your legs. Encourage him to take things further.

"Yeah?" He checks.

Nodding into a needy kiss, you mumble, "Please."

It might've been a while, but Jungkook's muscle memory is enviable. He's the best player on the team for that very reason.

As he hooks your underwear to the side, he's pleased to be greeted with indications of your arousal. Smirks into the kisses he's giving you, as his fingertips graze against your clit. Trails his lips to your neck. Wants to hear the way you gasp as he pushes his thick middle finger inside you.

"Fuck," you sigh at the welcome intrusion. Nod, as he curls his finger almost immediately. He's got a lot to thank those damn video games for, that's for sure.

Softly moaning, just how he hoped you would, there's an arch to your back as he picks up a pace. The need to perform, almost.

Head tipping back as Jungkook fucks another finger into you, you're unable to think too cognitively. Can only think about the way he feels. The smell of his hair as he presses kisses against your neck, and how prominent his collarbones are as your nails trail up his toned torso.

"Feels so good," you tell him. Move the hand of yours that's been resting on his shoulder to his hair. Tug on it a little. Elicit the prettiest of whines from him.

There's something to be said for making a man—especially one of such strength, stature, status—so weak. Gets you all giggly. Jungkook can feel the satisfaction ripple through your entire body, and it just makes him groan against your neck even more.

"You're so wet," he praises, pulling back to study your face as he plays with you. Lets his thumb stroke up against your clit ever so gently. Revels in the way you get a little shaky. Twitchy. With those damn bunny ears, you really are like a little rabbit. Jungkook finally understands why the fan artists choose to draw him in such a way. It is hot. "You're making me so fuckin' hard."

And then you're giggling again.

"Is it a joke to you, huh?" He smirks. Looks down at your pussy, all swollen and sopping wet for him, in the hazy violet light of his room. Knows that his throbbing cock is gonna stuff you so fuckin' full that laughing won't be an option. Is desperate for it. "How badly I want you is just a big joke to you, huh, bunny?"

The way he groups you in with his moniker is too damn hot.

"Dunno," you rasp, desperately trying to hold off the orgasm that's building inside you. "Fuck me and find out."

Reaching for the button of his trousers, you're quick as you wrestle his jeans down over his ass. Don't bother pushing them down entirely. Just enough to get his boxers exposed, and in turn, his thick cock. Hard and engorged, his desperation for you is evident. A small patch of precum seeps through the fabric of his boxers. He curses as your thumb strokes against it.

"Condom?" You ask, knowing you've got none on you.

"Hold that thought," he says, regretfully pulling away from you.

Watching on as he pushes down his jeans, and strips himself of his shirt, you're at a loss for words. You've seen him like this before, but it's so much hotter knowing that he's gonna be fucking himself into you as soon as he possibly can.

Jungkook could very easily lead you to his bed. Get you comfy. Reach to his bedside cabinet for a condom. Fuck you how he likes—doggy-style, minimal face-to-face contact—and be done with it all very quickly.

Instead, he says, "Stay here."

Doing as you're told, you watch on as he walks to the cabinet, and retrieves a condom. Admire his back, and his broad shoulders. The valley of his spine, and the hard work he's put into crafting his physique. Smirk to yourself as he dips into his boxers. Strokes himself. Once, twice. Tears the packet open with his teeth, just like you were always taught not to do, and rolls the latex down his thick shaft.

"What?" he smirks as he walks back, realising your eyes are transfixed on his cock.

You say nothing. Smile. Hold your hands out for Jungkook to take, just so you can pull him back even quicker.

Lips pressing into yours as he closes the gap, Jungkook is all smiles. Rubs the head of his cock against your pussy, gathering up your arousal all over his tip. Lines himself up with your entrance. Waits for you to give him the go-ahead.

Hand on his ass, you pull him closer. Edge the crown of his cock into you. Whimper. Beg. "Please."

Sinking into you with a laboured grunt, he's surprised with how much tighter you are around his cock than you were with his fingers. Wet and warm, there's an undeniable pleasure that sparks through his body as he gets familiar with the way you feel.

Slowly, his hips begin to pick up a pace. As his tongue strokes into your mouth, there's no dignity to the way he's taking you. The increased pace means heightened moans, and it's not just you—it's him, too.

"Shit, yeah," he grits. "So fuckin' tight, aren't you?"

Whining, you nod into his kisses. Are at his entire disposal as he grips your waist, proving exactly why Tokki is the perfect nickname for him.

As much as he likes the ears, he's a little worried that he might fuck you so hard they fall off. Doesn't wanna break them, and definitely doesn't wanna think about the story the boys would make up when they go live tomorrow to tease him—but also really wants to fuck you harder.

Which is funny, cause the way he tugs them off with such desperation and tosses them down, you'd be forgiven for thinking he couldn't care less about breaking them. Doesn't give you a chance to say anything, 'cause his big hands are cradling your face, bringing you in for desperate kisses once more.

There's a lewdness to the sounds you make together, but Jungkook knows that if he was an entirely different kind of streamer, you'd make bank together. Wonders about the way it would look on camera. Worries. Pauses.

"You good?" You check a little breathlessly as he reaches behind you, just to tug the wire to his webcam from the plus.

"Yeah," he nods, still fiddling around behind you. Smiles in the hedonistic haze as your lips find a new home on his neck. Strokes your hair gently, and presses a kiss to the side of your head. Quietly says, "Just making sure there's no way in hell I accidentally start streaming."

You hum, all purry and pliant. "People would pay good money to see it."

While he agrees, and has had the same thought process, he doesn't care. "You saying I should be charging you for this?"

"Oh, no," you say all very sweetly. "You should be paying me."

"I'll pay you with orgasms," he promises, knowing that it's a rare currency for one-night strands.

You smirk. Pat the top of his head. "Sure you will."

If there's one thing Jungkook loves, it's a challenge.

Pulling back, he turns you around. Gets you bent over his desk with zero opposition from you. Rubs himself against your soaked cunt, then asks, "Yeah?"

"Yeah," you smirk, and then settle into a sigh as he pushes into you. The feeling of fullness from Jungkook is one that's hard to compare. So thick, and fat, and heavy, his cock really is just as impressive as he is.

With one hand hooked at the crease of your thigh, the other holds the top of your shoulder. Gets you pushed down onto his cock as far as you possibly can be. There's a slight reflection in his streaming plaque beside the monitor, and you're pleased to see just how intensely focused he is on you, brows furrowed, pretty pink lips resting ajar. The silver of his lip rings and chain catch in the light, and you find you can't look at him for too long. He's too hot.

But then he's reaching down for your clit as he fucks into you. Has your legs shaking. The waves of a familiar sensation begin to lap against the shores of your pleasure.

"Fuck," you whine. "Feels good. Keep it like that."

Jungkook knows better than to ignore your requests. Does as he's told, the pressure of his fingers on your clit only deepening. Rubbing calculated circles against you, he knows just how to work you up. Gets you whining. Mewling. Moaning.

"Gonna cum, aren't you?" he smirks, as his own high builds.

"Fuck—"

"C'mon," he husks, feeling your walls tighten around him. He doesn't stop his relentless chase. Will win your orgasms fair and square. Continues pounding into you. Pace fast, strokes deep, he's everything you could ever want and more—and then he's slowing. Keeping you plugged, nice and deep, but focusing on the way he's toying with your clit. "You know you wanna cream for me. All over my cock, pretty Nabi. C'mon—"

"I'm close," you all but whimper. "So—fuck. So close."

"Yeah, you are," he tells you—and then your legs are shaking, pussy tightly clamping around his cock, one hand tense against his desk while the other grabs at his wrist. Uncontrollable, is the way you whine for him. It's so needy—so desperate and pathetic—that it's almost a sob. Jungkook doesn't ease up. In fact, his hips gain a little pace again as your orgasm shatters around you both. He's breathless, but manages to choke out, "Flithy fuckin' cunt. Feels so fuckin' good. Fuck."

The frail limpness of your body as the orgasm smokes away is cute. Jungkook loves it. You're so weak for him. He fucks into you still, chasing his own high, and your whines only get louder. It's overwhelming, but you never want to lose the feeling.

It doesn't take much. Just a minute or so of your tight cunt, and Jungkook is pulling out. Even though he doesn't ask you to, you get to your knees as he tears the condom off.

"In my mouth," you beg, and who is he to reject such an offer?

Jerking himself to completion, Jungkook is all pretty and pathetic when he cums, too. Looks at you with eyes so starry you'd been forgiven for thinking he was a descendant of the constellations.

He milks the final few spurts of himself onto your wet tongue, and curses when you press dainty kisses to his tip. Stroking your tongue against him, you don't want to waste a drop. Look up at him and find that his eyes are resting shut from the pleasure of it all.

Silence surrounds you both, just your beating hearts and laboured breaths filling to the room. He helps you up. Holds you tight. Hugs you for a little while, then presses a kiss to the side of your head. "Thanks."

"My pleasure," you giggle - and then he's smiling, too. Feels vindicated by his irrational thoughts about you over the last few days. He pays no mind to the fact you're still technically dressed, and he's basically naked.

As he sorts himself out, you perch back up on his desk and languidly swing your legs. Enjoy the thought of memories plaguing him whenever he tried to play his little games over the next few days.

"You wanna grab a shower?" he offers. "Food, too? Dunno about you, but I'm fuckin' starving."

"Same," you nod, biting down on your bottom lip. "I'll go wash up, you sort food? Are places still open for delivery?"

Checking his phone for the time, Jungkook is surprised that it's closer to midnight than it is to his morning alarm. Only a handful of places will offer delivery at this time, but that's enough.

"Works for me," he says with a yawn, then opens what you had assumed was the closet door. Reveals an en-suite and knocks his head to the side. "Get your shower. Gimmie a shout if you need anything."

Tiles large and grey, it's the perfect counterpart to his bedroom. A little dark, but it's only because Jungkook hates using the big light. Always flicks the small light switches instead. There's a window overlooking the city, and even though you're only seven floors up, the hills of Yongsan-gu mean that he's got a view you could only dream of.

You're about to start the shower up when he calls through. "Is pizza good?"

"Pizza's good," you call back with a smile. Look yourself in the mirror and wonder how the fuck you ended up in the bathroom of arguably the most famous person you've ever met. Decide it's better not to question it.

The shower begins to cascade down, even if your sins are washed way, you know you won't be able to forget the feeling of Jungkook so easily.

Truth be told, you won't even try.

YONSEI UNIVERSITY DORMS DAESIN-DONG, SEODAEMUN-GU SUNDAY 21:13

"L in the chat," booms the voice of Taehyung through your laptop speakers. His trademark grin rests on his face as he teases Jungkook.

You've only just opened the stream. Instantly, you focus on the prettily lopsided smirk of Jungkook's lips. You've learned it's an almost permanent fixture on his boyish face. Shaking his head, he's adjusting his headset. Making it a little looser so that it'll fit him properly.

No one is questioning it.

What they are questioning, is where the fuck that pretty purple bruise on his neck has come from.

"Cross-fit," Jungkook just shrugs, knowing that it's the colloquial term for suspicious bruises after some idol used the same excuse. Blatant horseshit. Jungkook doesn't care.

"I've never done cross-fit, but I know you're bullshitting," Taehyung snorts.

The chat seems to agree with him.

"Thought I was a virgin?" Jungkook states a little cheekily, making reference to Taehyung's usual banter. "How else would I get one?"

Taehyung knows better than the retort. Knows that Jungkook could very easily slip something about Rae into the conversation.

Virgin? You type through a message on a private discord chat with Jungkook. He'd set it up the day before. Has already sent you, like, a thousand messages. Is what can only be described as obsessed—but it's mutual. Could have fooled me.

As his eyes glance down to his laptop screen, he fails to hide his smile. Had opened your chat on there, cause he didn't wanna accidentally broadcast the messages onto his stream. Despite this, he doesn't care that there are nearly 10,000 people in his stream merely minutes into it. Is far more interested in his chat thread with you. Replies immediately.

Stop distracting meI'm working</3

Giggling as the message pings through to you, there's a giddy quality to the way Jungkook makes you feel.

He'd spent the day in bed with you after your night together. Had wanted you to stay when he started streaming that evening. Said he'd only be an hour or so, and was incredibly pouty when you did leave.

It had just been him on last night's stream—headset off 'cause he didn't wanna adjust it back yet, hoodie on to hide his neck. The other boys were nursing hangovers, so he could do what he liked.

What he did do had you incredibly curious. Was just chatting. Talking to the comment section. Sleepily reeling off facts he'd recently learned about butterflies. Debating over their lifespan.

You're not naive to the fact that Jungkook does this streaming stuff as a profession, and are aware that the more people talking about his stream on other platforms, the more viewers he'll get.

Made sense for him to add fuel to the butterfly-related fire by talking about them.

Had sent you a message earlier that evening to ask what kind of butterfly you had on your skin.

A Monarch, you'd told him.

"See, the thing is," Jungkook had rambled to his viewers a little later on. "Most butterflies have super short lifespans—Monarch's included."

Eyes all starry, lights in his bedroom purple as per usual, he'd looked cosy. You wished you'd have stayed.

"But there's a specific kind. Migrating Monarchs. They're the last of their generation—the final butterflies of the year," he marvelled at the magic of it all.

His facts were a little hazy, but he knew enough. Had been down a you-shaped rabbit hole all afternoon.

"And they migrate, right? Move away from home—somewhere warmer—and then it just extends their lifespan. 180 days. Not 30. That's six months. Six months. It's a long time. It's not fleeting. Not in the slightest."

It's also, curiously, exactly how long you're scheduled to stay in Korea for.

"I dunno," Jungkook had just sighed, a little forlorn, trying to make sense of his thoughts.

He bit down on his bottom lip, stroking his thumb against the hard plastic ears of his headset, then focused on the camera again. Wondered if you were watching. 

He simply shrugged. Said, "Counts for something, though, right?"

[gingerly-writing]

Secret Santa

this is a secret santa post for @creweemmaeec11!! your prompt was:

Villain is usually very flirty and confident, and then during a mission where hero goes undercover at some fancy event with Villain as their fake date, all of the sudden Villain starts acting really scared and nervous because of something at the event then has to help reassure/calm them down, and its cute. Bonus points if you can somehow work in a hidden power reveal.

I'm pretty proud of how I tackled this one, so without further ado, let's go for it!

-----

The Guild's winter gala sparkled.

Superhero moved through the frosted festivities like they were born to be there, like the whole event has been crafted just to make them look good. They floated majestically half a centimetre above the fake snow, crystal heels glittering as they strode. Their long dress swirled about their ankles, fading from white at the neckline to an icy pale blue at the hem, shimmering all the way down. Cold lights reflected angelically across their cheekbones and the diamond tiara balanced in their perfect hair.

They looked like the monarch of winter, the belle of the ice ball. Even the sharpness of their face fit.

They didn't even have cryo powers, for pete's sake.

Villain trudged along next to them, fighting the urge to wrap her arms around herself. Her suit was wet around the ankles, and a chill crept up her spine. Did they have to be so enthusiastic with the fake snow and dry ice? At least her tie went with the theme, ice blue to match Superhero's dress. That hadn't even been her idea, of course. Superhero had insisted, and now Villain found herself grudgingly glad of it. She didn't need to look any more out of place than she already did.

"Unhunch," Superhero demanded. Not forcefully. It was just they didn't make requests—they asked, but already expected their desired answer.

Villain straightened automatically, then scowled about it. "That's not a word."

"That's not an excuse. Stop skulking about." Superhero's gaze roved across the ballroom, picking out heroes new and old. Allies, petty rivals, good friends, threats. Assessing and scouting. Hunting. "It makes you look like you don't belong."

"I'm good at skulking. Probably because I don't belong."

Superhero turned on her, skirts whirling. "You do." Not an argument, just a statement of fact. "How long have you been my ally? My friend?"

Villain shifted uncomfortably. "The government classes me as-"

"This isn't the government, it's the Guild. And we don't give a festive fig what they say." They bent down to eye level, forcing eye contact. "You belong here. Just like I do. Just like everyone does."

"Alright, alright, I'll unhunch!" Villain looked away, faking nonchalance, but she couldn't quite hide her smile in her collar. Superhero's reassurances—hell, any scrap of their attention—always felt so good.

The touch of Superhero's hand on their forearm radiated through them like an electric shock. Villain startled.

Superhero smiled at them. Their smiles were always tiny, secretive little things, teasing at the corners of their mouth. "Come. I want to show you off on the floor."

"...the dance floor?!”

“How many times have you offered to take me dancing?”

Villain chatted a lot of nonsense while she was flirting. Like, a lot a lot. “Yeah, on a rooftop or an anonymous nightclub. Not here, in front of everyone we work with and half the people we fight!”

“You’ll be fine,” Superhero decided, and tugged her out onto the floor. 

Other couples were already swirling. Scientist stumbled past with her favourite henchman, and both of them were laughing. Thief and Detective were handcuffed together and glaring as they swayed side to side—it was always something with those two. Hero twirled by with his daughter balanced on his shoes, the little girl grinning ear to ear, blue flames engulfing the pair of them. 

Villain found herself in traditional hold with Superhero, her frenemesis taking control. She stepped after her automatically, swayed when directed, and dipped when pushed. She came up blushing and desperate to hide it. How was Superhero so damn good at this? They weren't even trying to flirt, and yet Villain was on the verge of swooning. So completely unfair.

That was partly why the onslaught of sheer terror caught her so off guard. One moment her body was flowing between Superhero's hands like water, and the next she was ramrod straight with all the hair on her nape standing on end.

Superhero frowned. "No, don't seize up like that! You were doing so well."

"I didn't...mean to?" Villain's mind spun faster than her body ever could. The suddenness of the new emotion, as if artificially imposed...could it be? Her gaze shot around the dance floor, through Hero and Scientist and- there. Twirling through the chaos, seemingly without a care in the world: Antihero.

Now the ice shooting through her veins felt real.

Superhero watched her with those cold-winter-sky eyes. "It's not the dancing," they ascertained. "What's wrong?"

"It's fine," Villain gritted out, forcing her feet to keep moving in time with the music. "Really, it is. We should just-"

Superhero held up one of Villain's hands in both of theirs. She was trembling. "You aren't scared of anything," Superhero told her. "Not even me, which I admit is quite aggravating at times. So forgive my worry, but you're not dancing your way out of this one. What. Is. Wrong?"

"Antihero." It came out like a church confession.

"The empath?" Superhero's brow wrinkled, then smoothed as they realised. "Oh, of course. She's feeding you undiluted fear."

"She's such an asshole," Villain said by way of agreement. "She's decided that I encroach on her territory when I team up with you. Apparently the Guild is only big enough to house one quasi-villain." And Villain had said no when Antihero had requested a teamup, but that seemed like too much to confess. Almost like admitting there was no one else Villain wanted to work with except Superhero.

"So she's just making you afraid-"

Oh how Villain wanted that to be the case but- "No. I'm actually- her powers give me the freaks. She can make you hate someone you love, fall in love with your enemy. Fear your best friend and idolise your rival." She shuddered. "And there's literally nothing you can do to stop her. Distance helps, but three foot thick steel walls or going underground or even knowing it’s not real don't make it go away. Trust me, I've tried."

Superhero span them so they could stare at Antihero. Villain forced them to keep spinning.

"Don't glare at her! Don't draw her attention. You don't want-"

"Better me than you-"

"Don't say that. Don't say that before you've felt it."

"I've dealt with telepaths before."

Well that was faintly horrifying. "She's just as bad, if not worse. Insidious powers with a vindictive personality to boot. Don't antagonise her. I don't want- both of us can't be messed up at the same time." Villain squeezed Superhero's hand tight. "Just don't. Please."

Superhero's full attention turned back to her with all the force of an ice storm. "Alright. For you."

The fear didn't ease, but Villain knew she was relieved somewhere under there. "Thank you."

"But I'm not going to let her torment you either."

"What do you..." The fear abated. All at once, like a theatre curtain falling between her and the rest of the room. No. Like a cocoon around her and Superhero. Villain stared up at her frenemesis with huge eyes. "What...how...?"

“You know what my powers are.”

She did…sort of. She had watched fire wash over them without burning, ice cover them without freezing. Punches bounce off them and bullets rebound. Villain had always assumed it was pure invincibility dialled up to 11, just like everyone else. That’s what it said in Superhero’s Guild and government files too. And yet… “I’m thinking maybe I didn’t grasp the full extent of what you can do.”

Superhero smiled wide enough to show teeth, their eyes glittering. “Good. I like to retain the ability to surprise.”

Villain let Superhero guide them through a spin and into a dip. Her body flowed, the tension dropping away. She felt…protected. Safe. “Antihero won’t like this,” she warned. “You’re making yourself a target.”

“Let her come. It’s been a long time since someone gave me the opportunity to remind everyone why I was designated ‘super’.”

Wow. Well, that was terrifying and hot. 

Fake snow drifted down all around them, catching in Superhero’s hair like tiny diamonds. Villain stuck her tongue out to catch some and grimaced at the taste, and Superhero chuckled at her. With the shield of their powers, the dancefloor felt like their own personal snowglobe, the two of them perfect dancers twirling forever hand in hand.

[beesbiteandwillowrites]

DP x DC snippet: "To Whom Do Gods Pray?"

Danny never wanted this.

Right now, he couldn't even tell anyone what he did want. Happiness, probably, whatever that entailed. Snuggle up with Jason in one of those giant armchairs that were scattered around his keep and listen to his love read to him in a soft voice, letting the cadence of his voice lull him to sleep. Fly with him through the Infinite Realms, to the edges where the vast green expanse gave way to countless unexplored galaxies so they could stargaze together. Jump through portals together and explore new dimensions to find the ones that have the best versions of all their favourite foods.

Not sitting at the bedside of his love as Jason teetered on the edge of life and death, balancing on a knife's edge. The heart monitor beeped loudly, too loud, too fast, and Danny didn't think he could ever hear anything else than the sound of Jason's heartbeat as it tried to jump out of his chest.

"Great One," Frostbite said gently. "Your consort is strong, as he has proven time and time again."

Danny wanted to scream. Jason never should have been forced to prove how strong he was. He couldn't help but think of all the times he had been here, sitting at Jason's bedside, as Jason recovered from wounds that had him teetering on the edge, that had almost killed him.

Danny was the Ghost King, the Ruling Monarch of the Infinite Realms. He ruled the dead of any and all dimensions. He had gods kneel in front of his throne, promising their allegiance. And now he was once again powerless, nothing more than someone who prayed their lover would not die.

To whom do gods pray? Who could he ask for guidance when he could bend the fabric of the universe to his will?

"He has a good chance to pull through, Great One," Frostbite said, and Danny swallowed bile.

"When will he wake up?" he asked hoarsely, holding Jason's hand between his own.

"We are working on an antidote for the serum he has been injected with," Frostbite. "Right now, his heart rate will remain stable enough as long as he remains unconscious, but if we wake him, external stimuli will cause the serum's adrenaline response to kick in. We would not be able to guarantee his survival should that happen."

Danny's core thrummed in his chest, feeling like it was about to burst. "How long?" he asked through gritted teeth.

"A few more days, Great One. Batman used a unique serum. But we will succeed."

Frostbite laid a clawed hand on Danny's shoulder and it felt like it burned him. Danny felt like he was drowning. He wanted to scream, to cry, to hit something, anything. He wanted to hurt the man who hurt his love so much he had put him in this bed more than once before.

Batman.

Fury bubbled up Danny's throat and he almost choked on it. Batman had hurt his love time and time again and Jason had pleaded with Danny every time to let it go. Batman had slit Jason's throat in favour of the mass-murderer that had killed so many, that had so many of Danny's subjects crying out for justice. He had beaten Jason half to death on a rooftop after he had lost his friends, had kept beating him long after Jason stopped fighting back, long after he had lost consciousness. He had brought Jason back to the scene of his murder under false pretences (and Danny would never forgive Batman for all the nights he had to hold Jason through nightmares of his father beating him with a crowbar after that).

And here they were again, with Jason close to death, close to becoming a permanent part of Danny's domain, almost murdered again by the man who he still saw as his father, even after everything, and Danny was drowning in despair.

He needed Jason to wake up.

He needed him.

All Danny could do was hold his hand and pray.

To whom do gods pray when everything else has failed?

[katealpha]

Art Comm by Zenny’s Club

Over an hour after Catwoman rescued Batman from the Steel Mill…

With Protocol 10 having been shut down, Selina knew it was safe to come out of hiding. After saving Batman from the rubble he was trapped under, she’d managed to get underground and wait for the sound of middle strikes and helicopters to cease. All the while whatever Ivy put inside of her belly was restless. Writhing and shaking. However when things got more quiet, the thing calmed down enough for Selina to take her hands off her stomach and get a move on.

Selina found it not too difficult to traverse the rooftops in her current condition. Despite having gained at least ten extra pounds, she felt as light as she could be, and jumping and swinging over gaps was little trouble. As she made her way through the Bowery and passed by the Ace Chemicals building, she spotted the bombed out Courthouse. Two-Face’s goons were still congregating out on the front patio despite all the present rubble. It brought to mind the money that she’d come for.

Despite Batman telling her to get to a hospital the second things died down, she found herself feeling stubborn. Despite feeling fat and bloated unlike anything she’d ever felt, it wasn’t so bad. Maybe it was Ivy’s pheromones clouding her, maybe being pregnant wasn’t as daunting as she previously thought it would be. It gave her something to ponder until she heard the sound of a crowd nearby.

Catwoman landed gently on a rooftop and with a slow stride, she made her way to the edge of the building, rubbing one of her claws hands behind her hip. Her back ached somewhat since this transformation of her body. Looking down past the curve of her bloated belly, she spied down upon the famous Monarch Theater. Outside were well over a dozen good. All of whom worked for the Joker. Standing among them was Harley Quinn, who was blubbering and shaking like a leaf. She was the kind of woman Selina found utterly pathetic, and she felt little pity for her loss. All that mattered to her was that Bruce was okay, and that Joker seemed to be gone for good. One less powerful psycho to worry about in Gotham.

As she was thinking about what a future without Joker would hold, a nearer future made itself known as a deep, ominous gurgle shook through her bloated belly. Her emerald gaze went down to her midriff, which visibly shifted with whatever it Ivy had pumped down her throat. An exasperated sigh left her lips as she let one hand rub across the leathery, now stretched surface of her suit. Selina felt like she should be more worried than she was. For all she knew, the thing inside could rip and tear its way out any any moment. It had grown fast enough, and certainly didn’t feel like a normal baby should. Not that Selina had much knowledge on pregnancy. Instinct told her to get it out of her as soon as possible. But said instinct was clouded by a combination of pheromones and Selina’s own desire to get her things from her apartment first.

With a shrug, Catwoman sighed and gave her bloated belly a gentle pat. “Okay, one last detour and then I’m getting us to Gotham General. I’ll need a change of clothes after all. Can’t show up all dressed up in leather.” She purred to her unborn offspring before turning and shuffling across the roof, set on heading back towards her apartment…

To be continued…

[grounded-gryphon]

WIP Wednesday - Spoofed Phones and Sugar Swans

Nightwing waited until Oracle gave him the 'go', then started grappling across Crime Alley. With O's eyes on and Hood's 'invitation, he didn't have to worry about an ambush, which was good. As planned, he arrived at the meeting location a few minutes after D-- the Ghost King and his people. And Hood, who was with them again, actually standing with them them this time and not off on his own.

Okay then.

Nightwing nailed his landing and put his grapple away. To his relief he could still hear Oracle over comms. The extra EMP shielding was still working.

"Your Majesty," Nightwing greeted the young monarch. "Hood." He gave a nod to each of the others on the rooftop. Tucker, Sam, Jazz… Focus, Nightwing.

"Nightwing," Hood returned.

"Thanks for coming," the Ghost King began, sounding a bit awkward. "I was hoping for...a bit less formality with this meeting."

[incarnages]

“I’m sorry,” Ladybug begged, practically falling over herself as apologies fell from her lips. She genuinely looked like she was about to cry, her body language expressing explicit remorse. Chat Noir didn’t care. He glared daggers as her, but stayed completely still. The normal Chat Noir would usually immediately forgive her, pull her into a hug and kiss her on the forehead, and tell her it was okay, that everyone makes mistakes.

Not this time.

No, this time, Chat Noir couldn’t forgive Ladybug. He couldn’t bring himself to.

“He was my father,” Chat Noir said calmly. There was no emotion in his words, no empathy, no feeling, nothing that showed that Chat Noir still cared for how Ladybug felt in this moment. “And yeah, you didn’t know he was my father at the time. I can allow that. But to not tell Adrien? As Ladybug? To keep the truth not only from your partner, but from the boy who lost his father? You wanted me to believe, for the rest of my LIFE, that my father was a HERO?”

He started raising his voice, stalking towards Ladybug. Ladybug backed away, not pulling her yo-yo out.

“I-I’m sorry, I really am! I couldn’t—I couldn’t figure out how to tell you, and, I wanted you as Chat to know that—to believe—that Gabriel Agreste was a hero! He asked me to, as he made the wish! Y-you have the believe me, he told me to make sure his son didn’t think ill of him—I didn’t want to hurt you, I promise!”

Tears properly began to slip down her cheeks, but Chat Noir paid no mind to it.

“Ladybug, I’ve always had trust in you, never doubted you, I followed you blindly. Respected your boundaries, never tried to delve too much into your personal life. Yet somehow you broke my trust more than anyone else ever has. How am I—How are we supposed to come back from that. Tell me! I’ve been trusting you for years to do the right thing, you’re SUPPOSED to do the right thing!—“

“—Chat-“ Ladybug interrupts, trying to get any kind of word in. He comes face to face with her, effectively silencing her.

“No.” He raises a hand, palm facing her, silently telling her to stop talking. “He was my father,” Chat Noir brings the volume of his voice down, borderline mumbling and whispering. “He wanted to be a hero? You are a hero, ‘bug.” He purses his lips, a singular tear slipping down his cheek. “You— Monarch, Gabriel Agreste didn’t deserve to be a hero. He hurt hundreds of people, hurt you, made you keep a secret from millions of people, made you keep a secret from me, Ladybug. I’m supposed to be the person you trust the most in the world, yet you— you took advantage of that, and lied to me. It’s—“

He huffs, his rapid speech making him lose his breath. “It’s not even about the fact that you lied to me about my own FATHER anymore, Ladybug. You broke my trust.”

With that, he launches his pole down onto a rooftop below, hopping away into the horizon, leaving a sobbing Ladybug by herself as the sun sets on the raining Parisian night.

[harpersdragons]

New Fic!

Theft in the Family...By Jason Todd

Talia tasks Jason with taking Damian to his father, and a few things change

Primary Tags: jason and damian met in the league, mainly fluff

I've written through half of chapter 4, i'm expecting 5-6 chapters

Chapter 1 under the cut:

word count: 1327

Jason’s life changed (for the third—fourth? Fifth? Fuck Jason’s lost count—time) the day Talia burst into his room in the league headquarters.

Jason snaps to attention, drawing the knife from under his pillow.

Talia may be like a mother to him, and he may love her little boy more than anything, but this is still the league. If you’re not hypervigilant, you’re dead. Threats are everywhere, even where you don’t expect them.

“The clown is dead.” She announces.

Jason relaxes, then tenses up again once the words register.

“You’re not kidding.”

“No. I have personally ensured it.”

“What…what about the plan?”

“It has been changed. You will still go to Gotham, but you must take Damian with you.”

“What.” He didn’t mind Damian coming with him, but taking him from Ra’s was declaring war on the league.

“I need you to deliver him to his father. It is not safe for him here.”

When Jason agrees, she hands over a letter.

“Give this to my Beloved. Come, you leave now.”

“I’m—I’m not packed.” He didn’t want to see Bruce, maybe he could keep Damian for himself?

As soon as the thought pops in his head, he dismisses it. He wouldn’t be able to give Damian a fulfilling life, he’s barely 17 for fuck’s sake. (He thinks, anyway, the whole being dead thing makes knowing his age difficult).

“You will find everything you need on the plane.”

They weave through the labyrinth of corridors, eventually reaching the plane Talia’s arranged.

Damian is already there, sitting primly in one of the chairs in the cargo hold.

Talia exchanges a tearful goodbye (on Damian’s side, Talia is as immovable as ever) with her 6 year old, and Jason readies for takeoff.

When they arrive in Gotham, Jason lands at a private airstrip just outside of Gotham. Bruce would probably find out about it, since he seems to know fuckin’ everything, but that’s really not Jason’s problem right now. Talia had provided a small car, so he packs Damian into the backseat and drove off towards Bristol.

“Alright, Princeling, the rules are different here. Your father has two other kids, and you need to get along with them. No killing, no maiming, no trying to assert yourself as the rightful heir.”

“But I am the rightful heir, am I not?”

It still shocked him how formal Damian was. No matter how many times he heard it, hearing a six year old talk like he’s an old monarch or some shit is something you never get used to.

“It doesn’t work like that here. Bruce…Bruce loves his children equally,” Jason may not believe it—the Old Man has favorites, and you can never convince him otherwise—but Damian needs to. Bruce needs to accept Damian, and that won’t happen if the kid is trying to kill his siblings. “No killing and no maiming are the main rules, but make sure you listen to whatever Bruce and Alfred say, alrigh’?”

“Ok, Akhi.” Damian’s voice is sleepy, and Jason can practically hear him drifting off.

He smiles softly, having Damian around helped tremendously with getting the Pit Rage under control, and he’s sure that’s what Talia’s plan was. The rage is useful for some things, but if she wanted to get Damian out of Nanda Parbat for his safety, she had to make sure he wouldn’t be overcome with pit rage and kill the kid.

The drive passes pretty quickly, though he does catch a few glimpses of Bats on rooftops on his way to the manor. He makes sure they haven’t followed him, and then parks in the woods about a mile from the manor.

“C’mon, Habibi.” He grabs Damian out of the backseat and settles him on his hip.

“I can walk, I am not a child!” His voice is still sleepy, but the exclamation is still there.

Jason couldn’t help but snort.

“Actually, by definition, you are a child. I’m not making you walk a mile, I can carry you.”

“I can walk, Todd!”

“Quiet, Habibi. You’re not walking.”

“Tt.” Damian huffs but settles down.

The walk passes quickly, if you ignore Damian’s annoyed grumbling, and then they’re standing before the gates of the manor.

Well, kind of.

They’re standing off to the side and in one of the camera blind spots.

Jason takes a second to analyze the fence line, and finds a shorter tree they could climb and hop over.

Hopefully Bruce didn’t drastically change the security measures on the grounds.

He carries Damian over to the tree and prompts him to grab the lowest branch. Once he is safely sitting in the tree, Jason climbs up after him.

”Can you jump over the fence and land safely?”

Damian tosses a scathing glare (well…as scathing as a six year old can be) at Jason and prepares to jump.

”That wasn’t an answer, and I really need one. The ‘safely’ was the most important part of that.”

”Tt.” Damian throws himself off the branch, flipping in the air and lands softly on the ground.

”You’re gonna get along so great with Golden Boy…” Jason mutters before following. He doesn’t flip, but he does manage to land almost as softly as Damian. He eyes the yard for a few seconds, trying to spot the security triggers.

He scoops Damian up again and picks his way across the yard, heading for the Manor.

He stops a little ways away, within view of the driveway and front door. “Ok, I’ll stay here until you’re inside.”

Damian furrows his brow and turns his inquisitive gaze on Jason. “You are not coming with me?”

”This isn’t my home anymore, Princeling.” He smiles sadly, “Your father won’t want me around, this is somewhere you have to go alone.”

”I do not want to live there without you! Why can’t I stay with you?”

”You need to stay with your father. He can keep you safe.” Jason crouches to be eye level with him, and runs a hand through Damian’s soft hair. “I will always come if you call, Habibi. I promise you.” He tugs two letters out of his jacket, one for Bruce and one for Alfred.

He wrote the one for Alfred specifically. Damian needs to know how to contact Jason, and therefore someone in the family will too.

“Give these to Alfred Pennyworth when he opens the door.” He hands them to Damian, “Go on now.”

”No! You can’t leave me.”

”Damian.”

”Why do you have to leave me?” Damian’s eyes started watering.

”I don’t belong here, ok? I can’t stay.”

Damian huffs and glares at him, tears still leaking out of his eyes.

“I’m sorry, but you need to go.” Jason pulls him in for a quick hug. “I love you, Habibi. If you need me, tell Alfred, alrigh’? He’ll be able to contact me.”

Damian doesn’t respond, just buries his face in Jason’s chest, in an uncharacteristic show of affection.

Eventually, Damian pulls away and wipes his eyes. “I do not want you to go, Akhi.”

If Jason stays any longer he just might stay, damn Damian’s convincing.

“I can’t, Dami. Bruce doesn’t want me!”

”How do you know?”

I’m not your father. I don’t have to deal with your teenage rebellion.

I’m not your father

I’m not your father

”Because he fuckin’ told me so, kid.”

”Tt.”

”Dami…” Jason sighs, “I’ll visit, how ‘bout that? I’m sure we can figure it out.”

”That is acceptable, I suppose,” Damian’s tone is sullen, and he refuses to meet Jason’s eyes.

”Good. Now go on, the bats will probably be back from patrol soon.”

Damian darts in for another quick hug, then makes his way towards the door.

Jason watches as he knocks, then a few seconds later Alfred opens the door. Damian hands over the letters and is ushered inside.

Time for Jason to head out, then.

“Bye, Habibi.” He murmurs, then leaves the way he came.

[molkolsdal]

Manuchihr told of the romance between Zal and Rudaba

Folio from a dispersed copy of Firdausi’s Shahnameh (Book of Kings)

Place: Iran, Shiraz, 1341

Materials: Ink, coloured pigments, and gold on paper

This enthronement scene falls in the middle of a rare tale from the Shahnameh, an epic poem completed by Firdausi in 1010. Firdausi’s poem spans the reign of 50 monarchs, recounting the story of Iran from mythical times through to the arrival of the Muslim Arabs in the 7th century AD. The tale of youthful romance captured in this folio occurs during the reign of the legendary Iranian king Manuchihr. The two lovers are Zal, the brave and handsome scion of a noble clan from the region of Sistan in eastern Iran, and Rudaba, the beautiful daughter of Mihrab, king of the neighbouring tribute territory of Kabul and a descendant of the evil tyrant Zahhak who once held sway over Iran.

During a hunting expedition Zal and his companions rode from Sistan to Kabul, where they were warmly welcomed by Mihrab. One of the ruler’s courtier’s remarked that he had a daughter named Rudaba, who was “lovelier than the sun,” and Zal immediately fell in love with the young woman’s description. Upon returning to his palace, Mihrab described Zal as a fine gentleman and a mighty warrior, whereupon Rudaba was likewise immediately smitten.

One evening Rudaba sent a servant to guide Zal to her castle. She greeted her suitor by letting down her long dark hair, similar to Rapunzel in the Brothers Grimm fairy tale, so that Zal could use it as a rope to scale the walls. After he climbed up to the rooftop, the two lovers passionately embraced.

The lovers’ fathers, as well as the Iranian king Manuchihr, vehemently opposed any match that would join a member of Iran’s nobility to a descendant of the evil Zahhak. This parental and royal opposition led to protracted discussions and meetings, letters of entreaty, gift exchanges, tests of Zal’s wisdom and physical prowess, and auguries cast by court astrologers, until the love-struck couple was finally permitted to wed.

Many volumes of the Shahnameh, including the one dated 1341 to which this folio belongs, illustrate the fateful moment when Zal and Rudaba first meet and fall madly in love. Few depict the moment captured here: when Manuchihr learns that Zal is engaged to marry Mihrab’s daughter. The king is shown seated on his throne and holding an animal-headed mace (a symbol of legendary Iranian royalty). He turns to address his priests and nobles in attendance on every side. All agree that Zal’s father Sam should be summoned to court for a consultation about how to end the ill-advised affair between Zal and Rudaba.

[melodiousramblings]

I just realized this episode gave us all 4 sides of the love square!!

Adrienette: the lunch date, Adrien in protective boyfriend mode, the two them all blushy and ADORABLE

MariChat: Marinette wondering where Chat is/what happened to him and hoping he’s okay, Adrien taking her hand and saying “I know/I’m sure he is”, and this 2-part episode taking place literally right after Elation

Ladrien: ADRIEN!!! TAKING!!! THE LADYBUG EARRINGS!!! FROM MONARCH!!! FOR LADYBUG!!! Monarch seeing that HIS SON is on Ladybug’s side!! Adrien giving Ladybug back her earrings!

LadyNoir: The two of them sitting on the rooftop. Ladybug staring lovingly at her kitty. “You and me against Monarch, my lady.”

😭😭😭 My heart, I love them so much!!!

[djwriterkp]

A Very Buggy Christmas

Santa needs help around the world and Marinette is stressed and tired.

Merry Christmas from the LBSC

LBSC Secret Santa Exchange 2024!

ANNALULZ! I was your secret santa! I want you to know I scrapped and restarted this whole thing like four times trying to get it right so I hope you enjoy! :D

Work Text:

A Very Buggy Christmas

Taking a break from his latest song writing binge, Luka came into the living room to find his wife passed out on the couch. The apartment was spotless, save for the kitchen, where the different counters were covered with various sweets and cookies were in different stages of completion. The newly married Luka and Marinette were hosting Christmas at their place for the first time and Marinette was stressed. 

The DuPain-Cheng/Couffaine/Stone/Lavillant Christmas gathering was in the morning and Marinette was taking her role to supply the desserts very seriously. He smiled softly at the sight of his Marinette - of his wife - slumped over the arm of the couch, snoring slightly. He made them both hot chocolate and went to the living room. He set the mugs down and gently took her in his arms and sat down on the couch and leaned her back against him. She moaned slightly as they shuffled to get comfortable.

Her eyes fluttered open, “Hey rockstar,” she mumbled.

“Hey Melody,” he smiled back, stroking her hair.

“How long was I out?” she asked.

“Just a few minutes, love. I just came in and saw you crashed. You need a break.” He stroked her hair and gently pulled her close for a kiss. 

They had been together for almost seven years at this point, but they had waited until Marinette was established in her own fashion brand before getting married. It had also been long enough for Paris to return to normal now that all the Miraculous were safe back in the miracle box, hidden safely in her design room.

 After Monarch was taken down, the Chat Noir and Ladybug dynamic never was quite the same, and after one day accidentally seeing him detransform into Adrien Agreste, it was too much for Marinette to bear. She ended things with him. Three weeks later she found the black cat’s ring abandoned on their rooftop. Word reached her that Amelie Fathom and her son Felix were moving  back to London.  Nathalie had said he had found out everything. Adrien had run out into the night and had not been heard from since nor had anyone heard from him. 

Marinette was heartbroken. She immediately went to her best friend and cried in his arms. Luka Couffaine still loved her as strongly as the day he met her, but he knew she had been hurt. A year later, Chrysalis aka Lila Rossi was unmasked  and the butterfly was saved and all the miracle jewels were reunited. That day Luka had the courage to ask her out. They dated all throughout their university times and became engaged at Marinette’s graduation party. Three years later, just seven months ago, she became Marinette Couffaine.  Married life was everything Luka had dreamed of. Waking up beside Marinette was equally the best morning of his life. Each kiss they shared, felt like their first kiss, back six years ago on Heroes Day, during the fireworks celebration. 

Each day, he was more in love with his wife than the previous day. And being married with their own place, meant that couch kisses could lead to couch make outs could lead to couch lovemaking without nosy sisters or moms interrupting. Being married was fun.

Marinette made that moan that made him lose control and he started reaching for his jeans when they heard it.

It made both of them freeze. 

Quiet was surrounding them, the timer on the oven was frozen. 

“Hello-ho-ho-ho, Ladybug,” Santa appeared before their eyes, never minding the fact that he had just interrupted a perfectly good intimate session. 

Luka tried his best to hide his glare at the magical man. Marinette just silently stared at him. She had once fought him years ago, back when he had been akumatized when they were teenagers. 

She groaned quietly into Luka’s chest and then nervously looked at the magical man. 

They separated from each other and sat up  facing Santa Claus.

“What do you need sir?” Luka asked, trying but failing to hide his frustration.

“Well, son, I’m having issues with my sleigh and I’m needing some help.”

 Santa then spent the next few minutes explaining that he’d already recruited the New York Heroez to cover New York and LadyDragon to cover Shanghai and so now, He needed help to cover Paris. 

Luka and Marinette agreed. The timer on the oven  sounded and Luka went to the oven to get the batch of cookies out while Marinette left the room to go to the Miracle Box. 

Luka dialed his sister and her wife. They had promised they would be there within 10 minutes. 

Luka looked over to Marinete. She was looking over each jewel, gently running her fingers over each one in pensive thought.

“Melody?” he questioned.

She startled at the sound of his voice, “Sorry,” she said, “It’s just been a while since they’ve come out,” she said, referring to the kwamis. The little animal gods pop out once in a while, but rarely more than one or two at a time, Sass and Tikki more than the others. 

Luka hesitated for a moment. “They were separated for a long time, Melody.” Marinette looked at her husband and smiled. 

“It’s just sometimes I think back on that night and after all that, it was all Lila in the end,” she stopped mid sentence. 

“It still hurts,” Luka finished.  She grabbed the bracelet of the snake and a coin necklace he didn’t recognize.

“Not Tikki?” Luka questioned?

“We need extra hands,” Marinette said, putting the necklace on, and the mouse kwami came out, hovering near her shoulder. 

Just then, the knock on the door, notified them of their reinforcements arriving. Juleka let herself and Rose inside the Couffaine apartment, “You two better not be naked,” Juleka snarked as she walked in, grinning. 

“Hey guys!” Rose squealed, “What do you need help with?” Marinette handed the jewel of the pig to Rose and the jewel of the tiger to Juleka. Their Kwamis appeared and had joyous greetings with their holders. They then looked at Marinette with confused looks. 

“Well,” Marinette smiled, “It’s up to us to save Christmas for Paris.” “Marinette!” Mullo squeaked. Mullo hugged Marinette’s cheek and Marinette smiled. 

“Mullo, You up for saving Christmas?” 

Mullo nodded and Marinette transformed into Multimouse.

Luka was floored at the sight of his wife in a different superhero form. The light gray and pink trim on the suit and her hair in twin buns on her head. 

“Multitude!” she called and suddenly five smaller versions of Multimouse were suddenly crawling over her husband. Luka smiled as he suddenly had many versions of his wife crawling over him. Then the other three former superheroes called on their transformations, and each took a magic Santa sack. 

“Let’s meet back up in an hour and see where to go from here,” Multimouse said, standing on Viperion’s shoulder. Each hero (and clone) took off in a different direction, ready to spread Christmas Cheer and magic throughout Paris.

After an hour, they had covered less than a quarter of Paris. They met back up, and Multimouse reformed her clones back together. Viperion looked at Multimouse. “Who else can we call in?” 

Multimouse mentally ran over the former heroes. Adrien had disappeared. Felix and Kagami were in Japan. Mylene was pregnant with her and Ivan’s fourth child. Alya and Nino had moved away after lycee and Lila had been exposed. Alya had taken the loss hard and her budding career as a journalist was over before it ever began. They hadn’t spoken in years and no one had heard from the former fox and turtle heroes.  Zoe had moved to LA and become a famous actress. Alix was in Egypt. Marinette shook her head. “There’s no one, Vi. We’re all that’s left.” Marinette was becoming stressed. Viperion placed a loving hand on his wife’s shoulder.

“We’ve got this, Melody,” he said, lifting her chin to place a chaste kiss on her lips.

Tigress and Pigella lifted their sack again, “Let’s go.”

The next hour passed and they covered more ground that time, and by the time they met up again, over half the city was covered. 

Their spirits were lifted as they met back up again to recharge and take notes on where else needed their help. 

“One last push, you guys,” Viperion rallied them together, “Let’s meet back at the Liberty once we’re all done with this last hour.” 

The three heroes (and clones) agreed and they went their separate ways one final time.

It took Multimouse a little over an hour and half to finish her last five parts and she was the last to arrive back at the old houseboat. As her last clone arrived back, they reformed back into one Multimouse. Juleka and Rose returned their jewels after one last farewell to their kwamis back to Marinette. Luka came back with a tray of hot cocoa and the two couples snuggled under thick winter blankets to stargaze on the cold winter night, on Christmas Eve, reveling the fact that in the morning Paris children would wake up to their wonderful Christmas morning. 

“I love you Marinette,” Luka nibbled her ear.

“I love you too Luka,” she replied as she sighed contentedly. Paris Christmas was saved and they were ready to host Christmas at their -

Marinette choked on her hot chocolate. 

“Melody?” Luka asked, concerned.

“I have to finish the Christmas cookies!” She replied, panicked.

Luka chuckled, “I guess sleep is not in the plans for tonight.” 

She playfully smacked him as the young married couple left Luka’s childhood home and headed back to their apartment. 

The next day, their tiny apartment was packed as the three families gathered together in love and celebration and delicious food. 

Marinette barely finished her Christmas lunch before she passed out on Luka’s shoulder.

“Eh, long night, eh Kids?” Jagged mocked. Luka cut his father a look as he lifted her in his arms. 

Sabine just smiled as Luka carried his sleeping wife to their bedroom to take a nap in peace. 

Half an hour later, she woke to find her family trading stories and taking part of her cookies, and a little red kwami sneakily carrying off two or three back to the miracle box. 

It was a good Christmas after all. 

[kuromori4]

Chapter 2 of Triptych Soul is now up! Complete with gorgeous art from @amarilke!

Chapter two: The Stranger in the Mirror

His body felt weak. He supposed that was to be expected, given everything that had happened since… His thoughts trailed off, and he buried his face into his hands in frustration. What exactly had happened? His memories were hazy at best. He remembered a voice had called after him, shouting, barking, demanding his obedience. A voice which, he only now realized, must have belonged to Monarch. A dull, clanging sound suddenly echoed across the rooftops, causing his ears to prick up to attention, followed by the unmistakable sound of footsteps across roof tiles. Ladybug! He eagerly craned his neck toward the source of the sound, but quickly realized that the clattering, noisy steps were far too heavy to be the gentle footsteps of his Lady. Who else would be trudging across rooftops at this hour? He carefully peered between the chimneys to catch a glimpse of the intruder, and what he witnessed turned the blood in his veins to ice.

Triptych: - A picture, painting, or carving presented in three panels, typically hinged together side by side. - A set of three parts or sections of associated artistic, literary, or musical works intended to be appreciated together. - A mirror with three hinged panels, which can be adjusted to show three separate reflections of a single subject from different angles.

Read on A03

Again, a huge thank you to my beta, @fandomofone and my artists, @amarilke and @ohwwhuvcreations, for helping me bring this fic to life! And to everyone in the @mlbigbang2024 server who I've had the best time hanging out with! <3

[kasienda]

A Miraculous Reveal - Rings True

Post Season Five - Angst w/ a very happy ending

Summary: Ladybug hits send on her text to Chat Noir, telling him who Monarch is. She tells Adrien a very different story. Adrien doesn't know what to make of it, but he thinks he deserves the truth. Thanks to @coffeebanana, @wackus-bonkus-maximus, and @nemaliwrites for the beta read. This hits just a bit harder because of your input.

Read on Ao3

A Miraculous Reveal - Rings True

I figured out who Monarch is. He’s Gabriel Agreste. Meet me at the Agreste Mansion . 

Chat Noir stares at the text and then glances up once again at the imposing statue erected in his father’s honor. Because his father apparently sacrificed himself to help Ladybug defeat Monarch. 

He shivers in the winter morning air. 

Both of those realities can’t be true. 

Chat Noir falls to the ground, his father’s oversized form blocking out the sun’s glare. He has no idea what he was feeling, but whatever it was, it wasn’t good. He just sits there, gravel from the pavement digging through his suit, barely aware of the passersby chattering about his unexpected presence. He can’t hear what they’re saying with his heart trying to beat its way out of his chest. His stomach is so sour he thinks he might throw up, and his hands shake hard enough he’s not certain he will keep hold of  his baton.

His father’s gone. 

He wished for this. Adrien wanted the man who wouldn’t let him make his own choices or live his life gone. And him being Monarch made all of that worse somehow. 

How many times had Adrien wished Monarch dead? 

Well, now he was. 

But Ladybug told him to his face, as Adrien, that his father gave up everything so he could be happy. 

Adrien can’t believe it. His father had never cared about Adrien’s happiness. That had never been more clear than when he shipped Adrien off to London to be the poster child alongside Kagami for the Alliance rings or whatever else his father had in mind. 

It’s far, far easier to believe his father had been Monarch. 

But why did Ladybug lie?

He doesn’t have to contemplate the question long. She lands next to him and he scrambles to his feet, his shoulders tense as he turns to her. She asked to meet him this morning, it’s the first time he’s seen her since he failed to show up to fight Monarch. Is she angry with him? She doesn’t look angry, but she doesn’t look happy either.  

She very noticeably does not look at the monument. 

“Can we talk anywhere but here?” Her voice shakes. And it’s amazing how just that small sign of anxiety from her makes his own turmoil abate. 

For the moment, at least. 

He clears his throat. “Lead the way.” His voice sounds like gravel. 

She takes off, and he launches himself in pursuit, not paying any attention to where they’re going. He just follows the flash of red as he always does.

They eventually settle on an ordinary rooftop away from prying eyes. She doesn’t speak. She stares at the blank brick wall in front of them as if it holds all the answers of the universe. 

Every moment of silence eats at him, bringing back the clammy feeling in his neck and the sour churn in his stomach. He can’t stand it. 

“M’lady?”

She glances at him and visibly swallows. 

“Are you okay?”

Her hands grip the edge of the roof and her gaze drops. She shakes her head and her eyes well with tears.

His hand covers hers immediately. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there.”

She leans into his shoulder and his arm comes around her immediately.

She breaks down into tears immediately, and he just holds her as she cries herself out. 

“I wish you were there,” she whispers, and his chest tightens in guilt. “I don’t know that it would have made any difference, but–” her head nuzzles further into his shoulder, “–I would have felt better with you there.” 

“I’m sorry,” he croaks again. He shouldn’t have given into his nightmare. He could have broken out of his father’s prison. It apparently wouldn’t have even mattered that it would have revealed his identity.

Monarch was dead. 

She shakes her head. “You couldn’t have known. I didn’t know either. I was there for another reason entirely.” 

He wants to ask what that reason was, but now that she’s talking, he’s unwilling to interrupt. 

“Discovering his identity was an accident. The miraculized robots were everywhere. They were tracking my active miraculous somehow. I had to detransform. He had me cornered. Thank god you sent Plagg. The tides shifted then! And I had him!”

Her face falls and she buries her eyes in her closed fists. 

“I was so stupid! I thought I could convince him to give it up for Adrien.” 

His throat tightens. It isn’t surprising that his father wouldn’t. But hearing her say it still somehow hurts. 

Adrien had never been enough, not for his father.

He blinks furiously to fend off the unwanted tears.

“So why is there a statue of Monarch in the middle of Paris?” he croaks. “Why did you lie to Adrien?” 

He doesn’t mean for it to be an accusation. He needs to know. 

But she recoils violently. “It wasn’t a lie!” 

He frowns. “But—“

Her face crumples and her body shakes like an earthquake. She breaks down into wracking sobs all over again. “I lost , Chaton. I trusted him. I wanted to be able to heal their relationship. He took all the miraculouses - including the Ladybug and the Black Cat. He made a wish.”

Adrien sucks in a breath. 

“But something I said must have gotten through because he changed his wish. He didn’t wish for his wife to be revived. He joined her in death instead. Then all the miraculouses minus the butterfly were returned to me. Before he did it, he asked me to make sure Adrien remembered him fondly.”

Adrien tastes bile. Seriously? His father wanted Adrien to think well of him? 

“So I only told Adrien the good parts. But I didn’t lie . Gabriel did sacrifice himself for his son’s happiness in the end. He did help me defeat Monarch.”

Adrien’s claws dig into his knee. His father may have said he did it for Adrien, but that’s what he always said. That’s what he said when he wouldn’t let Adrien have a birthday party, or go play music with his friends, what he said when he had forbidden Adrien from being with Marinette and when he had Adrien shipped off to London. 

But none of it was ever actually for Adrien. It never was. 

His father hadn’t needed to make a wish at all. He didn’t have to leave. If he wanted Adrien to be happy, he could have come back and done things differently. “But it’s a lie.”

She shakes her head. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Doesn’t matter?!” he echoes hotly. “That’s what Gabriel did to his son all the time. Lied to him, made choices for him about what he was allowed to know and do, what Adrien was allowed to feel . He locked him up and sent him away from the people he loved most!”

His heart rises to his throat, his chest heaves up and down. 

Ladybug stares at him, her eyes wide. “How do you know all that?”

He tries to meet her gaze, but he can’t do it. He feels exposed. 

“And now you want Adrien to remember that man fondly?! Want him to think that his pain and frustration and anger are all something he imagined?!”

She cries harder. “But he deserves better than Gabriel,” she sobs. 

Chat Noir took both her shoulders and squeezed them gently. “He deserves the truth. You need to tell him, M’lady.” 

And he’s being ridiculous. He already knows, so what does it matter? 

He just wants her to be the one to tell him.

“But how do I do that?” Her words are barely louder than the wind. Tears slipdown her face. 

“He deserves to know,” he says again.

She leans back into Chat’s chest. “You’re right. I just— I wish he didn’t have to go through all this.” 

“He won’t be alone.” 

He has Marinette, Nino, and Plagg.

He has her .

… 

Ladybug doesn’t show up that night. Or the next. Adrien spends each evening pacing back and forth in front of his stupidly large glass window. He purposely kept his evenings clear - sending Marinette home early and begging Nathalie to let him eat alone in his room. 

He was trying to make it easier for Ladybug to approach him. 

But still, she hasn’t come. He doesn’t understand it. What is she waiting for? Does she not trust him as Chat Noir? Does she think Adrien can’t handle the truth? 

Adrien throws himself backwards onto his bed. Each day he proves more irritable than the last, prone to snapping at everyone around him — even Marinette, who’s the absolutely last person who deserves his ire.

Five excruciating days later, she stands before him, wringing her gloved hands and all the tension that had been building up inside him like water against a dam for days, releases. 

She’s here. She’s going to tell him.

He smiles at her. “What can I do for you, Ladybug?” he asks.

She doesn’t meet his gaze. She’s so worked up, he almost feels bad that he pushed her into this. He could have just volunteered as Chat Noir to talk to Adrien himself. 

“Are you okay?” he asks. 

She laughs darkly, and looks at him. “You should not be asking me that. I just… I have some things that I need to tell you, things I should have told you before. C-can we sit down for this?” 

“Of course!” he says, walking her to the couch. “Can I get you anything?” 

“No, no! I’m fine,” she says. “You should sit too.” 

He sits next to her. She’s vibrating in her seat. Her legs are bouncing, her hands are fidgeting, she looks at him only to look away immediately. 

She bolts to her feet and starts pacing in front of him. His eyes follow her. 

“So umm…” Her hands flail around her. “You know how I told the city that your father helped me defeat Monarch?” The words come out of her in a rush, like she’s afraid if she stops she won’t get them out. 

“Yes?” 

“Well, that wasn’t exactly true. Your father—” she looks at him now. “Well, he was Monarch.” 

And there it is. The words are out. He almost wants to laugh. Instead, he lets out a heavy sigh.

“Are you okay?” she asks, kneeling down in front of him, and taking his hands. 

He smiles again, and nods. “I… okay is not the word, but maybe? Thank you for telling me. It’s relieving in a way.”

“Relieving?” she repeats, her eyebrows arching in disbelief.  

“Yeah, thinking of him as a hero after everything he had done to me… it didn’t feel right, but being angry with the person who helped Ladybug save all of Paris— well, that didn’t feel right either.” 

“I— I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before.”

He squeezes her hand. 

“Why are you letting the whole city believe he was a hero?” he asks. It’s still the one bit that doesn’t make sense. 

She offers him a pained smile. “Because I didn’t want anyone to know you had any association with the villains.”

He frowns. “You don’t need to do—“ 

She shakes her head sharply, cutting him off. “There’s more to it than that. This next part, Adrien. I…” she bites her lower lip. “I haven’t told anyone. Not even my partner.”

Every muscle in his body locks up. 

“This is too sensitive, too personal. I feel like I shouldn’t even know.” 

Her hands tremble, and he shivers.  What could be so awful that it was worth letting all of Paris believe Monarch was a hero?  

Ladybug’s finger taps the rings on his left hand - and he glances down at his parents’ wedding rings. 

“These aren’t ordinary rings. They’re amoks.”

“Amoks?” he repeats. “Like for a sentimonster?”

“Sentibeings,” she corrects. “These are your amoks.” 

Did his father leave sentimonsters running around? Ones that Adrien is now responsible for? How awful was—

Ladybug watches him carefully. She’s biting her lip again, her eyes wide, clearly bracing herself for his reaction. 

He missed the mark. The rings are suddenly all he can see. These are his amoks. 

He hunches forward, his shoulders feeling like lead. He gasps for air that won’t fill his lungs. It feels like the ground has opened up underneath him and swallowed him whole.

Ladybug’s arms wrap around him, she cradles his head against her chest. She strokes his hair like he’s a small child needing to be soothed.

“I’m a… sentimonster.” 

She shakes her head violently. “Senti- being. ” 

He laughs, the sound hysterical and unbelieving even in his own ears. 

“But yes, you were created with the peacock miraculous.” 

He’s a sentimonster. 

His whole life is stored in a pair of rings . 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know how to tell you this,” Ladybug says, tears slipping over her mask. “I wish you didn’t have to know.” 

His eyes fly up to her face. Ladybug almost didn’t tell him. If Chat Noir hadn’t convinced her, would he have ever known?

Suddenly, he’s furious. “You weren’t going to tell me.” 

“Adrien, I swear I returned the rings to you the second I understood what they were.” 

“What if I had taken them off or given them away?!”

Then her words catch up to him. 

“Wait. You didn’t give me these rings. It was… Marinette?” 

Her eyes flood with tears. It’s confirmation enough. 

He scuttles backward so fast the couch tips over. He shoves himself across the floor further, needing to be away from her. 

“Adrien! Please!” she begs, reaching for him on her knees. 

She’s Marinette. 

He sobs brokenly, shaking his head. “I don’t understand! Why would you keep this from me?! I thought Ladybug, at least, had no idea what my father was like. But you? Marinette! You stood against him time and again. And now you cave to him?! To lie to me?!” 

“I didn’t want to hurt you! I wanted you to be as happy as possible given everything that has happened.” 

He caves in on himself - he cradles his neck, and buries his head between his knees, rocking back and forth. 

“Adrien?” she asks, her hand hovering over his shoulder. He flinches from her, and she backs away. 

“I’m sorry!” she cries. 

“You know, when I read your text the first time, I felt relief . My father was Monarch. That sucked, but it also felt like a puzzle piece had snapped into place. Something that made sense .” 

“What text?” 

“Then you showed up to talk to me, and you fed me a completely different story! My father, a hero?“ he laughs bitterly. 

“Adrien—“

“When I told you that you needed to tell me, I didn’t think it mattered because I already knew. I wanted to hear it from you.”

Her eyes blow open wide and her mouth falls open into a horrified “oh”. 

“Chaton?” she asks, her voice cracking.

“If I hadn’t done that, would you have ever told me?” 

Her cries only intensify and she doesn’t answer him, but for once, he’s unmoved by her tears. He can’t ever remember being so angry with her. 

“You’re just like him.”

The look on her face is pure devastation. He can’t bring himself to care. 

“I’m so sorry,” she sobs. 

“Why didn’t you just use the rings?” 

“What do you mean?” Her voice is so quiet he barely hears her. 

“If you wanted me to be happy, couldn’t you have just ordered me to be happy?”

“Adrien! That’s horrible!” 

“Is it?! How is it any different than what you did?! You told me lies to manipulate my feelings! Made me believe in something that you knew wasn’t true. The rings just would have made it easier.” 

“I would never do that to you!”

“But you did!”

“I’m sorry! I didn’t understand! I never wanted to hurt you. I love you.” 

“That just makes it worse.”

“Adrien, please.” She reaches for him again. And he pulls away. 

“I can’t do this right now.” 

She stares at him, her eyes glassy. “Adrien–”

“Just go!” he shouts. 

And she does. And he’s not entirely certain that he wants her to come back. 

…

She keeps calling him. She calls him so many times that first night he loses track. She leaves him messages almost every time. He listens to every single one the second it comes in. 

She apologizes profusely again and again. She cries until her voice is sandpaper, and then she cries more. She understands why he’s angry and she knows what she did wrong. 

He wants to forgive her. He does. 

But he doesn’t know how.

Two days go by, and he still doesn’t take any of her calls. But he continues to listen to every message. 

His phone rings again, but it’s Alya. 

“Hey, what’s up?” he answers cautiously. 

“How are you doing?” And it’s definitely Alya talking — not Marinette and he relaxes. 

“That depends.” 

“On?”

“Are you asking because you want to know, or because Marinette does?”

“I won’t tell Marinette anything if you don’t want me to, but whatever happened between the two of you, know that she has always loved you.” 

He squeezes his eyes closed. He doesn’t even doubt that. But his parents had loved him too. He twists his amoks around his finger. That hadn’t stopped either of them from controlling and manipulating him. 

“Sometimes love isn’t enough,” he says. 

Alya’s silent for a moment. “You don’t really believe that, do you?” she asks softly.

“I didn’t used to,” he admits. “But now… now, I don’t know where I stand with anyone.” 

“I can only imagine how hard it must be to process everything about your father.” 

“Yeah, everything about my father,” he echoes dully. Alya doesn’t know even half of it— 

“It’s so messed up,” she commiserates. “Especially given who you all turned out to be.” 

Unless she already knows all of it. Because she’s Ladybug’s best friend! 

“How long have you known?” he asks, trying to keep his tone even, but it probably just comes out cold. 

“Known what?”

“That I’m Chat Noir, she’s Ladybug, and my father was fucking Monarch?!”

“Adrien, listen—“

Adrien’s tired of listening. 

“—she had a total meltdown.” 

“She told you before she told me, didn’t she?” 

“Adrien–” 

He’s shaking his head even though she can’t see him. “Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“Because I thought it should come from her! ” 

“Did she also tell you I’m a sentimonster and she wasn’t going to tell me?!”

“A what?! Adrien!—“

He hangs up. He tries to take solace from the fact that Marinette hadn’t told Alya or Chat Noir about Adrien being a sentimonster. She had some lines she wouldn’t cross at least. 

But it’s not enough. She hadn’t planned on telling him either. 

He twists the rings on his finger. What if he had taken them off? 

It’s the thought he can’t shake.

He calls Nino.

“Hey mec! What’s up?” 

“Tell me you didn’t know.” 

“Know what?” 

“Did Marinette or Alya tell you about me?” 

“Umm… I thought you already knew that Marinette liked you since you guys have been dating.” 

And despite everything Adrien bursts out laughing. Nino definitely didn’t know anything. 

“Dude! What is going on?”

“Can I come over?”

“Anytime, mec!” Nino exclaims enthusiastically! “You never have to ask.”

…

Adrien barely has time to knock before Nino whips the door open and yanks him inside and into a hug. 

Adrien lets himself relax. Nino didn’t know anything. Nino never lied to him. If anything, Nino was stupidly forthcoming about his own secrets. 

He can trust Nino. 

Which gives him an idea. A terrible idea. 

“Dude! How’ve you been holding up?” 

Adrien shrugs. Before he can overthink it, he slips both of his amoks off his finger and presses them into Nino’s hands. 

“Put these on,” he says.

Nino looks at the rings. “Are these wedding rings?” Nino asks. 

“Technically, yes.”

“You proposing, mec? You could at least buy me dinner first.” 

Adrien doesn’t laugh. “Just put them on. I want to try something. I’ll explain after.” 

Nino slips the rings on without any hesitation. “Okay. Now what?” 

Because Nino trusts him. 

“Tell me to do something weird.” 

“Weird like what?”

“I don’t know, something I wouldn’t normally do.” 

Nino pulls out his phone and puts on a dance remix. “Alright dude. Dance like you’ve never danced before.” 

Adrien throws himself into the moves, rolls with the music Nino’s music, he tells himself. It doesn’t feel like a compulsion. It feels like he wants to do it - almost like it’s his own idea. But he can’t stop either. And he wants to cry. 

How many times had he tried to stand up to his father only to immediately fold once standing before him?

Even his maman! How many times had she sweet talked him into cooperating? She had always said he was an easy child. All he had ever wanted was to make them proud. Was any of it him? 

Nino stops the music.

“Dude! You’re crying.” 

He is, and yet, he’s still dancing. Another sob tears from his throat. 

He’s not human. He’s a sentimonster, a puppet on strings, a plaything for his parents’ amusement.

“Stop it! What’s wrong?” Nino asks, putting a hand on his shoulder. 

Adrien’s limbs still, and he falls to his knees, sobbing.

Nino is on the ground right next to him an instant later. “Talk to me, please.”

Adrien knows with that command, he can technically talk about anything, but he had come here to talk about one thing in particular.

“I’m a sentimonster,” he gasps. “I’ve been a sentimonster my whole life. Those,” he points to the rings on Nino’s pinky and ring finger, “are my amoks.” 

Nino’s expression falls off his face. Then he tears the rings off his hands and slams them up against Adrien’s chest. 

“Why would you ever give these to me?! Why would you give them to anyone?!”

“I just… wanted to know how they worked, what it felt like. I didn’t think you would use them if you knew.”

“Damn right, I wouldn’t!” Nino roared, his chest visibly heaving. “Please don’t put me in that position again!”

Adrien nods. “I’m sorry.”

“What the hell is going on? What do you mean you’re a sentimonster? They haven’t been around that long. Are you some kind of copy of my best friend?” 

Adrien shakes his head. “I’m the original, one and only, Adrien Agreste. My father had the butterfly and the peacock since before I was born, and apparently for some reason —“ that Adrien hadn’t had time to even think about, let alone figure out. “—they raised a sentimonster instead of having a child using more natural methods.” 

“Wait! Your father had the butterfly?! But that means—“

“He was Monarch,” Adrien says before Nino can. 

“But Ladybug said—“

“Yeah well, Ladybug doesn’t have the best relationship with the truth,” he says bitterly. “She’s just like my father.” 

Nino looks more shocked by that than anything else Adrien has said. 

“What?” Adrien asks, unable to interpret Nino’s silence. 

“Dude!” Nino exclaims like that explains everything. “You’ve always been Ladybug’s biggest fan!” 

“That was before she tried to lie to me about my father! She wasn’t even going to tell me about being a sentimonster! She gave me back these rings without saying anything! What if I had lost one or taken them off? Or gave her one when I proposed?!”

“When you proposed?” Nino echoes. “To Ladybug?” 

Adrien thunks his head against the wall. He hadn’t lasted twenty-four hours with her identity. She’s going to kill him.

“Can we pretend I didn’t say that?” 

Nino’s head cocks to the side. “Marinette is Ladybug. Huh.” 

“That doesn’t surprise you?” 

“That’s definitely the least surprising thing you’ve said today. Not surprising at all really,” Nino says. “Okay, so we’re pissed at Maribug—“

“Cute.” 

“—because she didn’t tell you about your father being an even worse dick than we already knew. And she didn’t tell you were a sentimonster. But then, how did you find out?” 

“She told me.” 

“But—“

Adrien sighs. He’s already screwed as it is. “She told me as Chat Noir.”

Nino is silent again. “You’re Chat Noir.” 

“Yup.” 

“And your dad was Monarch.” 

“Unfortunately.” 

“Mec! That’s so messed up.” 

“Tell me about it.” 

“So Maribug told Adrien the same thing she told the city?”

“Yeah, that he died a hero helping her defeat Monarch.” 

“Gross,” Nino says. “Why would she want you to remember him with rose colored glasses?” 

“I don’t know!” 

“Do you think she killed him?” 

Adrien freezes. The thought had never occurred to him because it’s incomprehensible. “No. There’s no way.” 

“And she told Chat Noir - not knowing that she was talking to you - that you’re a sentimonster?” 

“No, she only told Chat Noir that my father was Monarch.”

Nino hums. 

“Just say it,” Adrien says. 

“Well, I get that you’re pissed. I think I am too on your behalf. But I don’t think Marinette is anything like your father.” 

“Go on.” Adrien wants to forgive her. He just needed a way to get there in his own head. 

“The difference is Marinette did tell you.” 

“She wasn’t going to. I had to talk her into it.” 

Nino nods. “ Exactly. She wasn’t going to, and then you explained your perspective and she changed her mind. She recognized that she was wrong, that you were right and she did what Marinette always does. She tried to fix it. Your dad would have only doubled down.” 

“Or tried to akumatize someone over it,” Adrien adds darkly. 

“Dude! He’s akumatized like every single one of your friends.” 

His father hadn't wanted him to have any friends. Had his father ever seen him as a real person? 

“Nino, do you still care about me knowing that I’m not real?” 

“What the fuck kinda question is that? One, yes! I care about you more than almost anyone on this planet. And two, you are most definitely real .” 

Adrien’s crying again, but Nino quickly seizes him in a hug. Adrien buries himself in Nino’s solid embrace, and he knows he’s going to be okay even if he’s not there yet. 

…

It’s been four days since he shouted at Marinette to get out of his room. 

She’s still calling him, and he covets every message, as a sign that she loves him despite what he is, that she hasn’t given up on him, or on them. He listens to them the second they show up, though he still hasn’t been able to bring himself to respond, though he thinks he might be getting close. He did send a message through Alya that he just wants some space and he’ll let her know when he’s ready to talk.

Most of her messages are similar in nature. She apologizes over and over, tells him that she loves him, and that she’ll do anything to make it up to him. She just doesn’t know what that is. 

He thought that he might feel vindicated or something hearing her so small and contrite, but he doesn’t. He feels awful because as much as he was hurt, he doesn’t want her to hurt either. 

He loves her. 

Then her last two messages were drastically different in content. 

“I learned that you were a Senti from Felix.” Her voice is subdued, like she’s narrating from a script. “He and Kagami are both sentis as well. They asked Ladybug for help.” 

Figured that Felix told Ladybug without even telling him .

“I’m not sure they want anyone to know that, but I guess… even if you—“ her voice cracks and his chest clenches at the pain in her voice. “—even if you can’t forgive me, I-I just wanted you to know you’re not alone.”

She’s openly sobbing now. “I love you.” 

The message abruptly ends.

The second message that day comes in hours later. 

“I got Kagami to bully Felix into letting me talk to Dusuu!” Her voice is so different from the previous call. She sounds excited. She sounds like Ladybug with an idea. “The original amoks didn’t have a mind control feature. That was something the Guardians added at the same time they added it to the miraculouses to be able to control the Kwamis. If they added it, there’s gotta be a way to take it away, right?” 

“I have a plan to free you all from your amoks. But there’s a hiccup. We’ll need the butterfly so I can give you the power to see your spiritual connection to the ring so you can cataclysm only the part that can control you. I know it’s dangerous. And we don’t have to do it if you’re not comfortable, and we don’t have the butterfly right now anyway—“ 

Adrien smiles as Marinette rambles on. How had he never realized Ladybug and Marinette were the same? They think out loud in the exact same way. 

Even though he asked for space, even though he wasn’t talking to her, even though she wasn’t certain they were going to remain a couple, she was still fighting for him. 

He transforms immediately and lands just outside the bakery. He’s not sure if she’s even home, but he hopes that she is. 

He takes the stairs two at a time. He hesitates before knocking. And before he can bridge the gap, the door flies open of its own accord. 

Marinette drops her purse and stares at him. Her eyes are red and her usually neat pigtails are half falling out and completely uneven. She’s still in her pajamas though she had thrown a coat and a scarf over them. 

She has never looked more beautiful. 

He offers her a wobbly smile. “I’m sorry. You’re on your way out. I can— I can come back.” He starts to turn around. 

She grabs his wrist. “No! Please don’t go.” Her voice is hoarse, and faint, like she’s afraid if she’s too loud he’ll bolt. “Wh-what do you wan— I mean, need? What do you need?” 

He eyes her grip on his wrist, and she instantly lets go, and suddenly can’t meet his eyes. 

“Can we talk?” he asks. 

She nods. Her eyes are downcast, her shoulders are hunched in, and her arms are wrapped around her stomach. She’s been tearing herself up for all the days he didn’t speak to her. 

“Hey,” he says softly. “Can you look at me?” 

She does, but her eyes water immediately, and he yanks her into his arms.

“It’s going to be okay,” he assures. 

She falls to pieces in his arms. He rocks her harder, kisses her hair, and continues to hold her. 

“I’m so sorry,” she sobs. 

“It’s… o—“ he cuts himself off before he can say it’s okay. Nino told him that was the one sentence he wasn’t allowed to say. “It’s going to be okay,” he says again. 

She shakes her head. “No, I’m awful. I don’t know what I was thinking! You’re right to be so angry. You’re right to hate me!” 

He laughs, and then cups either side of her face. Her blue eyes fill with tears and he aches for her. “M’lady, I could never ever hate you. I was hurt.” 

“Of course you were!” 

“And I needed some space.” 

She nods against his hands. 

“But I’ve been thinking, and Nino made me realize that I actually should be thanking you.” 

“Thanking me?! For what?!”

“Because you told me.” 

“But I wasn’t going to. Not until you convinced me to.” 

“But then you did. You listened to me, and you trusted me as Chat Noir, and then you told me as Adrien. And I’m glad that I know now. I needed to know. No one else was ever going to tell me. And so, I’m really glad I have you, that you respected me enough to tell me this hard truth about my own life. My parents didn’t tell me. Nathalie never did, though she had to have known. And I don’t think she ever would have. Even Felix, and apparently Kagami, didn’t tell me though you think they’d get it better than anyone.”

“But I should have told you right away. I never should have lied.” 

He shrugs. “Yeah, that’s true, but we all make mistakes. And when you realized you were wrong, you tried to fix it.” He held up his phone. “And you’re still trying to fix it. Even though it’s hard, even though I didn’t take it well. You still told me the truth when no one else did. And I just— I love you.”

He presses his forehead to hers. “Even when you make mistakes, even when you really piss me off, even when you’re not perfect, I love you. And I don’t think that will ever not be the case. Thank you for telling me, thank you for giving me some space to figure stuff out on my own, and if you’ll still have me, may I still be yours?”

“If I’ll still have you?” she repeats, aghast. “Shouldn’t it be if you’ll still have me?”

He shrugs again. “I’ve already said I still want to be your partner in every sense of the word, but I’ve had time to think about it while you were sending me message after message that you loved me. Even though I’m not even human.” 

Her face contorts into pure rage. “Adrien Agreste! You are the most beautiful human being I have ever met in my life! You are kind. You give people second chances. You are persistent, and brave, and you have the dorkiest sense of humor. You drive me absolutely insane both with and without a mask, and I am so stupidly in love with you, I will absolutely still have you! And if you think—“

He cuts her off with a kiss. He’s going to spend the rest of his life with this girl if he has anything to say about it. 

[jigglypuff1994]

Okay, so, I'm sorry if this idea has already been put out there, but I love the idea of post Monarch, young LadyNoir going to Disney.

Hear me out.

Chat Noir booked the flights, took care of the hotels and transportation while they're there. And Ladybug is absolutely stunned because like how can he afford to do this? And Chat is just being cheeky like 'tehehe I have my ways'.

Even though Chat and LB were offered a free day at Disney, Chat Noir insists that he should pay to experience just like everyone else, and since he can afford it, he pays for everything. Ladybug doesn't know that he's absolutely loaded so she's just confounded every time he pulls out hundred-dollar bills as if it was something everyone did.

Ladybug would be scrambling constantly to ensure she and Chat do every. possible. activity. Like they rope-dropped at 7am. LB's absolutely losing her mind on Genie+ and has done hundreds of hours of research watching Youtubers and reading every blogger and tips and tricks guide out there to ensure the one day they have together is undeniably picture perfect.

At some point, Chat Noir talks to Ladybug and tells her gently to chill out, she is finally able to relax and realizes how magical the experience is.

Chat Noir proceeds to stuff his face with anything Mickey-shaped: pretzels, ice cream bars, caramel apples, rice crispy treats, everything Mickey shaped. While having no concern for his figure because they're walking a million steps anyways.

Ladybug takes so many pictures and a video when Chat Noir meets his favorite Disney character, Rapunzel. Chat becomes absolutely giddy and beside himself. Him and Rapunzel talk about what it's like to be locked away in a castle and preoccupying themselves with all their indoor activities while dealing with manipulative parent figures, and Ladybug tilts her head for a moment because why does that sound so familiar.

Ladybug is put on edge every time fans want photos with them. She anxiously smiles too wide because she's stressed that her and Chat might not make it from Tomorrowland to Frontierland in 3 minutes time. Chat, who is aware how stressed his lady is, has to nicely remind their fans that they have a scheduled itinerary that Ladybug is absolutely *not* budging on.

Chat suggests that he and LB use the rooftops to get around rather than walking. LB lights up immediately because why didn't she think of that earlier!

Chat insists on taking a selfie with Ladybug in front of the Cinderella castle, and Ladybug sneaks a quick cheek kiss. This is the only cute photo where Chat is stunned and doesn't have his large, toothy smile. That photo ends up being Ladybug's favorite of the hundreds they took together that day because reasons.

To end their day, they sit on top of the Main Street rooftop above Tony's, eating spaghetti and meatballs like Lady and the Tramp because LB will always be 'His Lady', and he rolls the meatball over with his nose to recreate the movie while Ladybug rolls her eyes, gives him a small smile and scratches behind his ears. They cuddle in close while listening to 'When You Wish Upon a Star,' and the view is breathtaking as they watch the fireworks and lightshow on the castle.

Just a cute, magical day at Disney.

[piesafterdark]

Chapter 1 of this is how we end/this is how we start again (my mlb fic)

Summary:

Ladybug dies taking down Monarch. Or does she? After five years, Chat Noir vehemently disagrees with her "presumed dead" status; her body was never found, after all. As he unravels this mystery, Marinette Dupain-Cheng reappears. So does a new butterfly-themed supervillain. ~~~~ “But if you don’t show up,” Ladybug says from atop the railing as she prepares to fly away, twisting to see him, “I won’t wait, I will do it alone.” "Then I won't be late." She didn't say anything afterwards, maybe she sensed what the future would bring, maybe she was just tired of him. All Chat Noir knows is that in the blink of an eye she was gone. And when tomorrow started, she was dead.

Plagg is hissing about a message when he shakes Adrien awake. It's 6:04 am, over an hour before he actually needs to be up and fourteen hours before they would meet for patrol. Plagg’s eyes, luminous green, are intense against the dusky blue sky outside; even the sun hasn’t risen.

We need to talk. Meet me at the spot. His heart races, clattering against his sternum. His hands quiver around his baton.

In seconds, he’s gone: bounding from rooftop to rooftop, cold winds rushing past his face and singing in his ears, following the path of faint moonlight towards his destination. With each leap he crosses the street-wide gaps between rooftops, further away from his prison-like house and closer to his best friend. The world opens up a little more with each leap.  

He feels like he’s flying; like he’s above the world.

His feet hit another rooftop. 

What will she want to talk about? Chat hasn’t been slacking. The last akuma attack was last Tuesday. They usually strategized getting the miraculous back during or after their patrols. He hasn’t let slip any hints about his identity, no matter how much he wants to. Chat respects her enough to honor her wishes.

The scent of freshly baked pâtisserie alerts him to his location, but Marinette would have to wait. He has a Lady to meet. 

He’d see her later, at school. They’d hold hands as they walked up the steps. She’d kiss him, not fake like in modeling, but with real emotion. Love and devotion. He’d whisper something back, something funny that would make her laugh. 

A stupid grin spreads across his face as the thought warms his windswept cheeks. In response, his stomach growls.

Hopefully Ladybug brought pastries. 

Chat Noir braces himself as he leaps onto the platform where they usually meet. The Eiffel Tower’s lights had turned off ages ago, but he doesn’t need the light: Ladybug stands by the railing, her silhouette haloed by the slow rising sun.

“You called, m’Lady?” Chat Noir bows. 

His eyes find hers and—

He doesn’t think about it. It’s been years since he was in love with her. He’s over her. He loves Marinette, he’s even said it.

The city unfurls beyond them, cloaked in dawn, slowly waking. A few windows glow with golden light, a reminder of their purpose.

They spent years of their superhero lives on this platform: staring at the city from the Eiffel Tower when nights were quiet to simple debriefs after an akuma attack to now, when Ladybug squirms with worry. 

“What took you so long?” Ladybug demands, voice higher than usual and trembling with what Chat hopes is a surplus of caffeine. 

“Missed me?” He condenses his baton and attaches it to its resting place above the base of his spine. He can’t help the coyness, it’s routine now. Reflexive.

She doesn’t smile like she usually does when he makes advances. She didn’t bring croissants, or any other pastry for that matter, when she normally would have. She always brought snacks for their optional meetings. He hopes she only forgot.

“What’s wrong?” His tail lashes behind him. 

“I know who Monarch is.” She plays with her hands, tapping her fingertips together, then intertwining them, just to pull her hands apart and start all over again. 

“Mérde! Why didn’t you tell me sooner? I would’ve—“ 

He reaches to hug her but Ladybug stops him.

Looking back, that was the heartbeat before it all ended. That frame of excitement and ecstasy that swirled at the center of Chat’s stomach. The inhale before the world shattered, sending shrapnel flying through the carefree identity of Chat Noir and ripping Adrien Agreste’s curated lifestyle to shreds.

What comes after this?

He should have immortalized this moment in his memory. Painted it thousands of times until he got the lighting right, fully appreciated the glimmer of sorrow in Ladybug’s eyes. He should have memorized the way yellow rose like a pyre’s smoke from the horizon, staining the powder blue sky. The way she contrasted against those colors like a blooming rose against gray foliage. Or the way his heart pounded to the steady rhythm of no more secrets, no more secrets, no more secrets on and on and on.

“Gabriel Agreste.” 

What? 

“What?” 

Ladybug’s body vibrates, she begins to pace, but Adrien just stands still. Like a nightstand or a bookcase, unable to move as if his joints were fused together, he just stands. At this point, he is just a piece of furniture, his mind repeating a mantra of Gabriel Agreste is Monarch which means Father is Monarch. Gabriel Agreste is Monarch. Monarch is my Father.

One plus one equals two. One plus one equals twelve.

“I think I know why.” Words spew from her mouth but Chat can’t bring himself not to listen. This was his Lady, after all. His Bugaboo. 

“It’s all about Emilie Agreste,” she looks at him meaningfully, “that’s his wife. She went missing a few years ago but she’s not really missing, she’s in their basement comatose because she used a broken miraculous—the peacock—and he wants to use the wish to bring her back. Don’t you see?” 

Don’t you see? No. I don’t.

She looks at him with furrowed brows and he thinks she’s gone mad. Maybe it’s an akuma. Maybe it’s the stress.

She tears her eyes away from his—whatever he’s feeling, he doesn’t know. Pain? Sorrow? Grief? This can’t be real. I’m at home dreaming. Maman is missing, Father’s not Monarch, Nathalie’s—

“How didn’t I see this? It’s so obvious! How could I not have noticed?” She’s tearing out her pigtails, dragging her fingers over her eyes.

She’s gone mad. She’s akumatized. She’s having stress hallucinations.

“Ladybug, how do you even know this?” he croaks. 

His mouth is dry, like sand cakes every crevice. His hands ball into fists until he registered that his palms held pinpricks of pain. 

I’m not dreaming.

His heart hurt. Was it bad his heart hurt? Was this what a heart attack felt like? Chest pain, shortness of breath, pain or discomfort in the jaw, neck, back, arm, or shoulder. Feeling nauseous, light headed or unusually tired. He counted the symptoms he read in one of his mother’s books. Maybe he was having a—

“He was my mentor and we worked long hours—“ she‘s already referring to him in the past tense “—but he always disappeared just before Akuma attacks and the Akumas were almost always people he’d just fired. Then—“

“But he’s been akumatized before,” he breathed out, trying to find the oxygen that eluded him.

“We—Tikki and I—think that it’s possible for holders to use their powers on themselves. And Tikki saw him transform! I saw him transform! Chat, please say you believe me.”

“I–But—How can—Are you sure?” Breathe in. “Are you really sure?” Breathe in. “How can you know that he’s Monarch, or that my—” he gasps, “ that Mme. Agreste was the peacock holder?”

He hates arguing. It’s why he never wants to inherit the company, too much arguing. Father—Monarch—says it’s the reason behind his gray hair. That and terrorizing Paris. 

Stop. 

Breathe out.

“You already asked that, Chat, and I know, okay? I know for a fact that M. Agreste is Monarch and if I could change that I would.” She bites her lip, but Chat feels nothing. No spark, no yearning. His unkillable crush is finally dead and he feels nothing but butterflies dying. “Mme. Agreste…I think…I’ll tell you when it’s over. I’d change it all if I could. But I can’t.”

Her eyes are wide and frantic. Crazed, but he believes her. Mérde, he believes her.

Does she think he knew? Not Chat, but Adrien? Does she think that he helped? 

Breathe. In.

“Does… Does anyone else know? What about Adrien—th-the son?” 

His voice comes out too high. Cold air sears his nostrils as he breathes. He squeezes his eyes shut.

“No… no, I don’t think so,” Ladybug says. “You, me, and Alya Cesaire are the only people who know.”

The sky beyond her lights up in sunrise; a righteous pink stains the clouds. From her point of view, he’d be drowning in the receding night. Alya Cesaire knew his father’s identity before he did. 

“But people will know soon,” she continues. “Tomorrow, Alya will post the evidence onto the Ladyblog. So to avoid any vigilante justice, we have to retire him tonight.”

“Tonight?” He couldn’t do it tonight. It’s too soon. “I can’t do it tonight. I-I have plans.”

“Then clear your plans! This is our job! This is why we’re Paris’s superheroes!” Her arms are spread like wings, gesturing to the city around them. “Our duty to the people! It's going to be over soon—all the stress, the worrying, the constant threat of akumas. We can go back to the way life was before Monarch!” Plastered across her face is something like a smile, but it’s too erratic. She’s gone mad. My Lady’s gone mad.

“I-I need time, Ladybug. Please, I just need some time to think. We’ll have Alya postpone the post, until tomorrow night, at least. Just give me until then,” he begs. “Then I’ll be ready. You and me, okay? We’re a team. Us against the world.”

They argued then, but he didn’t want to remember that, even if they were a few extra moments of basking in her life.

“Tomorrow morning,” she says after a moment of respite. “When Adrien Agreste is off at school. I’m giving you until then.” 

He gives her a watery smile, hoping that she understands the depth of his gratitude even if she doesn’t understand his reasoning.

Dawn had passed and he was now surrounded by the blue of her eyes. He suffocated under its weight. 

“But if you don’t show up,” Ladybug says from atop the railing as she prepares to fly away, twisting to see him, “I won’t wait. I will do it alone.”

He should have screamed at her that no, she shouldn’t. Should have grabbed her and covered her in bubble wrap and held her until the sun rose over tomorrow. That she would die if she did. That he would only be five minutes late. That she should have waited. That losing her would kill him—killed him.

“Then I won’t be late,” he says, like it’s a death sentence.

She didn’t say anything afterwards, maybe she sensed what the future would bring, maybe she was just tired of him. 

All Chat Noir knows is that in the blink of an eye she was gone. 

And when tomorrow started, she was dead.

[fabseg-creator]

Miraculous fanfic: Chrysabug (First Time)

I've drawn new Cerisette/Chrysabug sketches. The first (at the top) illustrates the first meeting (or first confrontation) between Ladybug and Chrysalis and how should be happening. Below, there is a fanfic.

This happens in a rooftop of a building. Ladybug has been attacked by a supervillain (or precisely by a supervillainess): It's in fact the new Butterlfy Miraculous Holder. After an intense duel (with the use of the Lucky Charm and the Miraculous Ladybug for repair the minor damages on the roof), Ladybug had managed to immobilize her Butterfly girl. The latter is trapped in her opponent's yo-yo.

Ladybug (in good mood, teasing): It seems I have cought a special butterfly. Is that you, the Nooroo's new Holder ?

Chrysalis (confident): I just hoped I could catch a interesting specimen as you are, Ladybug.

Ladybug: Who are you ?

Chrysalis: Before you call your Cat*, I want say to you who I am, my Lady.

Ladybug feels confused about her adversary saying 'My Lady'. It's the Cat Noir's line.

Chrysalis: I am Monarch's former apprentice. The future Hawkmoth. But for the moment, I prefer you call me Chrysalis.

Ladybug: Sounds like you are too proud about yourself, Chrysalis.

Chrysalis giggles.

Chrysalis: When you fought against Monarch, I was present. I came to the Agreste manor for steal the Butterfly brooch to Mr Agreste. I just came to take my revenge on him for having backfired me. I've observed you in action, but none of both you had noticed my presence. I know all about you, Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

Ladybug: What ?

Chrysalis (smiling): Even about the wish processus. Gimmi the kwami of the Reality. The Gabriel's self-erasure from the reality. I could reveal that to everyone (even to Adrien) but I haven't did it. That happened two months ago. Do you know why I still keep your secret hidden ?

Ladybug (perplexed): What do you mean ?

Chrysalis: I hide your identity from the public because I respect you, my Lady.

Ladybug is intrigued.

Chrysalis: Since I know you exist as the superheroin of Paris, I hated you so much for having saboted my schemes. I've teamed up with Hawkmoth who will become Monarch for eliminating you. I hated you even in your civilian form, so I had to ruin your life. I hated you until the day of the final battle against Monarch when I has been witness of your detransformation of Bugnoire. I was confused first like you are actually confused. I've found out Marinette and Ladybug are the same person that explains why you're the only one I've never managed to make you fell in my words.

Ladybug: Wait a minute. Your words ? You would say: Your lies ?

Chrysalis: Ding ! ding ! ding ! good answer, my Lady.

Ladybug (shocked and grossed): Lila ?!

Chrysalis: Yeah and not really. Lila Rossi was nothing but a disguise. Things aren't always what they seem to be at first sight. I have used too many identities and disguises on my life even before you and Cat Noir had begun your adventures/tales on Paris. My vision of the world is just... different.

Ladybug: It's a lot of things you're telling me, 'Chrysalis'. How can I be sure you're not lying to me, this time ? A trap ?

Chrysalis: I understand your vigilance but I don't come to you as your enemy. I have a deal for you.

Ladybug: What deal ?

Chrysalis: I challenge you to discover my birth name and/or to find my residence. You can call the place my lair but I call it La Plage too. I keep your real identity secret, my Lady. Don't worry.

Ladybug: You introduce yourself to me with the only missing miraculous. You already engage a duel against me and now you propose me an 'treasure hunting' about you ?

Chrysalis: The duel was just a test but I will try to be fair on this .

Ladybug stays careful of the butterfly girl's words. She stealthly spins for watching around herself (realizing a panorama) and she turns her look on the captive.

Ladybug: I just want to be sure you haven't bring some akumatized people.

Chrysalis: I even haven't akumatized anyone yet at Paris. Have you noticed that ? I offer you this deal. But only to you.

Ladybug: Why me ?

Chrysalis begins to be flirtatous.

Chrysalis (blushing): Because you have made me curious toward you. Since you've hidden the fact Gabi and Monarch were the same person from everybody in the world, I just realised you and I are similar, familiar. Together, we need each other.

Ladybug is like slightly disturbed by Chrysalis' words.

Ladybug: Do you believe I will accept this deal ?

Chrysalis: So. Do you prefer I reveal who is really Gabriel Agreste to everybody (even in prison) ? Bring me to jail and it will be fun. Take me the miraculous but I have covered the brooch with a strong glue for prevent you to remove it to me.

The red black-spotted superheroin still expresses some doubts. Meanwhile, she is now aware of these revelations used to not be lies: her adversary knows her real identity, the same girl has been Hawkmoth's accomplice for akumatization causes, knows how to use the Absolute Power from Tikki and Plagg and the girl is used to be 'Lila Rossi'. She has even confessed Lila was a simple disguise she had weared during her time at Françoise Dupont school with many disguises. Meanwhile, Ladybug rethinks about the actual butterfly holder's case.

Why hadn't she tried to steal the Ladybug and Cat miraculouses for summon Gimmi and make the wish for herself ? Has she some other plans ? If she can use some fake identities and some fake looks, why didn't have used all her ressources ? Is it possible Nooroo can accept a girl like her as his holder ?

Ladybug realizes about this point: During the Summer vacation, 'Lila'/Chrysalis hasn't come back in her life. This peace time has been too good for her. And now, like an intuition, the superheroin begins to think her adversary is honest for real. Despite the confusing situation she's living, Ladybug has the feeling her nemesis isn't telling lies to her at all.

Chrysalis: Have you chosen your choice, my Lady ?

Ladybug: Fine. I let you leave, Chrysalis. For this time.

The superheroin removes her yo-yo, freeing Chrysalis. The latter takes her swordcane, moves away from Ladybug and jumps from the rooftop to a building.

Chrysalis: Thank you for your choice. We will see you again, Ladybug. (making an evil smile) But as a civilian, I look forward to seeing you again, Marinette Dupain-Cheng. When will happen, I will be already disguised. (becoming cheerful again) That's my clue for you. I wish you Good luck for finding out who I am really, my real name and my real backstory.

Chrysalis moves her arms for forming a heart pose at the top of her own head. It's a directed message to Ladybug. The latter is suddenly fascinated by the former. The butterfly girl flees to the other side of Paris and disappears.

Ladybug (intrigued and blushing): What a strange girl.

The End

*Cat Noir

Bonuses:

Chrysabug kiss scene.

Ladybug and Chrysalis take the hide on an alley away from the public.