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wizard-spider-man · 5 months ago

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The Cat, the Book, and the Spider; Small Steps Forward.

#A week had passed since the first flames destroyed the Library. Catherine, the librarian, felt her heart shatter into pieces.

The sight of the rebuilding efforts mended some of the hurt, but when the fire struck again days later, the wound was reopened. She felt crushed, as if someone harbored so much hatred for her that they would repeat their destructive actions.

When the third fire burned after the snowfall ceased, Catherine’s sorrow turned into rage.

She yearned for an end to this cycle of destruction and longed to inflict the same pain onto the perpetrator.

However, she knew her tracking skills were inadequate. But she also knew of someone who might be able to help. Somebody had to help.

Catherine had received cards from the WISH Foundation and the Asfelaeia Justice Community (AJC) in the past. They expressed their desire to assist the community in any way possible. If anyone could find the arsonist, she hoped it would be them.

So, she decided to seek their help.

Approaching the WISH Foundation's headquarters, Catherine knocked on the door. She wasn't sure if it was open to the public, but she didn't want to barge in. Despite her emotional turmoil, she refused to be rude.

The door was answered by a peculiar little man named Mark Rufflefeathers. It was late, and visiting hours were over. The shelter was open for those in need, but this visitor was unexpected. He was a short man with orange hair and a rumpled wizard's hat. Sparks occasionally flew from his curls.

"H-hello there? How may I help you?" he wheezed.

Catherine looked down at him, taken aback. How could someone like him help? He seemed so frail that a strong breeze might knock him over.

"Uhh...I get mail from here every now and again? Saying they wanna help people in the community? I'm looking for help," she said.

"Hello yes. You've come to the right place, I hope. Are you seeking shelter? Come in, come in," Mark replied, shuffling out of the doorway.

The WISH office was neither lavish nor well-organized. Boxes were scattered about, and a few people milled around, still recovering from the blizzards. Sniffles and coughs echoed throughout the room.

"Please, come over to the desk. I can help you fill out a form," Mark said, leading Catherine to his desk.

"Well, my name is Catherine. I don't need shelter, I need help...I'm the librarian. People keep burning my library! It's..."

Cat began, her arm flashing in a burst of flames before she took a deep breath to return it to its normal state. "I want help tracking down the people who keep burning it, and deliver justice onto them. I'm...not good at tracking, never have been."

"Oh dear," Mark said, setting his pen down and discarding the paper in a crumpled mess. "My apologies. We've been understaffed here since the blizzards. We're going to need to do some more walking."

As they conversed, a watchful eye from across the room listened in.

"Across the hall is the Asfelaeia Justice Community. We share a building with them but-" Mark began, only to be interrupted.

"Hey. Mark. Let me take it from here," a man named Tobey Garfields interjected. He was from the Asfelaeia Justice Community. "You said you're trying to track down the Arsonist? I read about that fire."

"If you don't mind, I just need to know more about what you know regarding the fire. We've posted pictures online of the arsonist, if you haven't seen them yet. The guys out in the street do a good job of documenting incidents," Tobey said.

"Tobey, hello there," Catherine greeted him, shifting her seat to face him.

"Yeah, it's been quite trying...not having a job, the storm, the mirror and then the destruction followed by the storm returning..." Catherine said, rubbing her head and leaning back a bit as she processed everything. Her rage was the only thing fueling her to get out of bed at this point.

"You said online? Which line, exactly...? I thought wanted posters went on the bounty board," Catherine asked.

"Orbnet. Haven't ya heard?" Tobey replied, pulling out a handheld tablet. It glowed with magic essence, and sure enough, ORBNET was displayed on the screen, along with pictures and posts from the AJC about the fire and the arsonist. "Online is, foreign talk I suppose."

"Well ... Tobey, if you have it from here. I'll get back to another desk....." Mark excused himself, making his way to another part of the building.

Tobey sat down. His aura was strange, and his face was easily forgettable. He began to write down details of their interaction.

"So do you have any leads? Or are we starting from scratch?" Tobey asked.

Catherine was entranced by the device. It was unlike anything she had seen before. She twisted it around in her hands like it was a foreign object. Not because of their world, but because she was so incredibly out of touch with everything after being away for so long.

"Who are these people...? Where did they get these pictures?" Catherine asked, momentarily forgetting why she had come. She snapped out of it and looked back up at Tobey.

"What? Oh! Right, sorry... practically from scratch...I know who did it the first time, it was a mirror clone, but I've reason to believe they didn't do it this time," Catherine said.

Tobey slipped the phone away. "The Mirror clones are a problem. But the suspect in the photos definitely doesn't look like you or have the flaming arm thing you did. My next question to you is; what do you plan on doing if and when you track this arsonist down?

His eyes seemed to plead 'please be nice,' but his logic guessed she would probably strangle the living daylights out of them.

"Kill them," Catherine said without a moment's hesitation. "Not just kill them, slowly immolate them and watch their body writhe as the flames of Ifrit consume every cell on their form."

Tobey's eyes widened, then sort of glared. "Well, the AJC might not be the best group to help. We're here to bring justice to our communities, and we have every intention of making sure the arsonist faces a public trial. We aren't here to advocate for vigilante justice or in your case I fear, murder."

"I understand you are in an immense state of grief and pain right now. Your anger is justified. The problem these days is, we live in a society, with rules and common practices..." Tobey began, digging in Mark's desk for a few seconds before handing over a couple of pamphlets, schedule times for grief management groups, anger management groups, counseling resources, and the like. "But if we just killed each other over every indecency done to us, well, it wouldn't be civilization anymore, it would just be chaos."

Tobey stood up and began to leave. "Let us know if we can help you. The grief groups are good things. Might be worth your time."

"Wait! Wait, please..." Catherine called out, grabbing his arm as she looked at the pamphlet and took a deep breath. "I'm...truly, I'm sorry for saying that. I...I'm not going to make excuses. I'm angry, I'm tired, I just went through a calamity again for the first time in 440 years. I don't...I can't do this on my own..."

"I understand you..." Tobey said, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Look, you can fill out the form, and someone will call you. Someone *will* call you. Doesn't matter if you're magical or plain, technologically gifted, or not, they will contact you. Sometimes it's a letter in the mailbox, other times an actual member shows up. But me? I do need to get going... I took down the information you gave me, and I'm gonna refer it to a friend who works on the ground directly. I'm just a messenger..."

"Alright, well, thank you..." Catherine said, letting go and nodding. She sighed and took the form, pressing a finger onto each box and starting to fill it out with flames. The flames spelled out her answers before extinguishing a moment later.

A hopeless feeling set in. Bureaucracy was a terrible thing. It made people feel small, insignificant, and even worthless. As Catherine finished the form, Mark ushered her back out to the streets. The wind blew on the signs, lanterns flickered, and the recovering city seemed asleep in the night as the evening pressed on.

Did anyone care? Would anyone listen? Catherine sighed as she walked away. She would have gone home, but she felt like she needed to take a walk. To where, she had no idea. Maybe just to clear her head.

She felt like she was back at square one before even getting to take the first step. She felt alone in this, very alone.

Cat arrived at the agreed-upon location for the group meeting. She was hesitant, but the people at WISH had recommended she at least try it. She still looked rough, but she entered. It was definitely not a small group of people. It made sense, so many citizens had lost so much.

She took a seat, her body language guarded and telling her to just leave. She really started to consider it as she sat and waited.

"Welcome to the group everyone," Tobey Garfields, the WISH representative assigned to lead the group, had everyone sit down. "As usual, this is a place to share as much or as little as you want. Or nothing at all, listening helps too. We're all here for different reasons, and we're here for the same sort of reason in a way, lately it's been the grief of our blizzard, and everything we've lost."

"Carol. Would you like to go first?" Tobey asked.

"Sure," a young lady at the circle replied, adjusting her witch's hat stiffly. She cleared her throat and a commanding, teacherly tone filled the room. "Last week the kids came back to school. We were briefed extensively, as much as you can be briefed, on how to handle the students returning and who may or may not be there."

"To be honest guys, it broke me. End of the week, you're trying to do the right thing, show these kids how to fulfill their basic incantations... and Sally says to me. Why does Verglas hate us? A child, she's barely 7. How do you..? How do you even address that? She's so smart, but not a single bit of hatred in her soul."

People shuffled uncomfortably. One man spoke up.

"He hates us because we're subject to our-" he began, only to be cut off by Tobey.

"Politics, Craig," Tobey interjected. "We're all citizens here. And if we weren't, that wouldn't matter would it? This is a safe space."

The group continued on, people sharing their stories. Until finally, it was Catherine's turn.

"Welcome, I don't think I've seen you here yet. We met before didn't we?" Tobey asked, a smile on his face. "Back at WISH that other day. I'm glad you're here."

Catherine nodded, feeling a mixture of emotions at the moment. She tried her best to contain them, but her arm gave her away. The flames were uneasy, flickering wildly. She held herself a bit, eyes still down at the table.

"I-I'm...m-my name is Catherine...I was the supervisor at the library before..." Catherine began, starting to tear up as she hugged herself tighter, her body trembling and voice shaking. "G-gallows...Gallows and the Carnival have...have rebuilt..."

"I-I opened the library...during it all. I saw..." She started to quietly sob as she recalled the horrors. Corpses, splotches of necrosis on people's bodies, having to tell parents their child's resurrection failed or having to tell children their parent was gone. It all flooded back to her at once, like a dam cracking apart. She openly wept now, unable to even finish her sentence.

Somebody in the group placed a hand on her shoulder, an older woman, a wise enchantress who looked to have seen a great deal in her time.

"Don't push yourself. You don't have to share if it's too hard to share. We appreciate you doing your best," the enchantress said.

Tobey chimed in as well. "You opened the Library? Why don't you talk about the good things? This is a grief group, but fundamentally we're all here to support each other in progress, so focusing on good things is part of that process. But like Ashlyn said, you don't have to if it's too much. Thank you for being here."

Catherine allowed herself a minute to cry, looking to Tobey as she tried to think about his suggestion. She tried, but she couldn't...

"All the good things are gone! They were stolen from me by that arsonist they caught!" Catherine sobbed, doubled over as she held herself tight. "I hate- I hate them so much! They took everything!"

"My house was burned down," an old man said. His name was Harold, and he had been quiet for all the meetings thus far. He was a calm man, and carried that calmness across the room with his voice. "I actually caught the man who did. Beat him near to death I did."

Tobey glared at Harold. Not the best advice.

"I didn't feel better though. It's like you said, it's all gone," Harold said, carrying sadness in his voice now, trying to focus his point. "I took him to the hospital, and he ended up going to jail for his crimes. I saw him again years later, and he was a painter. I guess what I'm getting at is, you can rebuild from this. You can always start something new, and like the phoenix, new life can be born from the ashes."

"Your hatred towards them is understandable," Tobey said. "It's not something you let go in a day. Or in years even. This is something you have to make room for, because that hatred comes from loss, and loss is irreplaceable."

"Right now, you're feeling the anger. The rage. The questions why," Tobey continued. "Grief comes in stages. It sounds like a bunch of junk, but it's true. You have the impact, then denial. Then anger. Anger usually leads to bargaining, as you try to grasp what can be done with your situation. You may feel depression for a long time. Before finally coming around to acceptance."

"H-how many times can someone rebuild before they lose it?" Catherine asked, sniffling as she looked up at Tobey. There was so much pain in her eyes. Pain, anger, loss, mourning...

"I've rebuilt, and rebuilt, and rebuilt! When I rebuild something comes and destroys it! And it's always something from the fucking hells!! Every hundred years or so something from the hells comes and ruins everything!! I can't take it anymore!" Catherine exclaimed.

"Hey let's breathe... we've gotten some noise complaints before. Harold's just trying to help, albeit in his own erm way," Tobey said. "There was a new library constructed recently. It's made of metal and guarded by skeletons. It's, interesting, but maybe worth a look? Maybe what you need is a new beginning somewhere?"

"Starting over is the hardest thing you can ever do. But there are lessons learned in those resets," Tobey added.

The group session might not be helpful today, but it would be worth investigating when Catherine felt more stable. Tobey frowned, this woman was in a clear crisis, what with the arcane flame on her arm starting to burn brighter.

"Maybe we'll call it a day," Tobey said. He felt bad. More often than not, the curse that followed him seemed to entail making people's bad feelings worse.

Catherine was the first to stand up and run out. Once she was outside, she found the nearest thing she could sit on and continued to cry. Her arm burned bright with pain and rage, it begged for consumption. Her mind started to race with...not very good thoughts as she looked to her crackling arm.

'Destroy...what does Harold know? He only didn't feel good because he didn't finish the job! The flames should consume, they should make them feel the same pain they put on everyone...!' Catherine thought.

A few minutes later...

The Wizard Spider-Man hastily kept a distance, perched on a rooftop. After a moment, he popped down to Cat's level. She was in distress, and there was a powerful magic that he could sense about her. Given how badly the grief group went, and the AJC declaring Catherine a possible crisis hazard, it worried him to see the woman in this state.

He wasn't sure if he'd be able to help, but his presence as a super hero to the city could potentially be useful.

"Hi there. Hope I'm not interrupting anything. Friendly neighborhood Spider-Man here, patrolling the streets, keeping it safe. Are you in need of assistance?" Spider-Man asked.

Catherine was taken out of her thoughts and back into reality. She looked to him, her cheeks stained with tears and her eyes bloodshot from crying.

She looked at her hands and started trembling a little.

"I...I need so much assistance...I can't..." Catherine said.

She looked up to him, her flaming arm seemed to have calmed slightly. The flames still waved wildly, but they didn't seem as angry.

"I'm turning again...I'm losing my mind just like I did 400 years ago, and 500 years ago...!" Catherine exclaimed.

"Turning miss? What's happening, is it tied to the magic in your arm?" Spider-Man asked, approaching closer, his arm reaching out.

"If I may, I am a bit of a master sorcerer, and I excel in spiritual and physical restoration. If you are afflicted with blight, I really could help you," Spider-Man offered.

"No, it's not a blight, it's my brain...!" Catherine cried out, holding her head as she started to cry again.

"I've done this again, and again, and each time it has ended badly for me! I am faced with horrible grief, and go off the deep end and do something horrible just to make myself feel better!"

"First I lost a friend, and killed the three that sent him to his death. Then the hells killed my wife, so I erased a Pit Fiend."

"Now I want to find the arson and turn them into dust! I want to kill, I want to destroy the arson and Verglas! I want them to suffer for what they've done!"

"Do you need to find somewhere to release this rage?" The Wizard Spider-Man asked. "There are many things in life that are out of our control. We must find ways to vent off the steam, and regain our center. This anger you're feeling, believe me, the city itself feels it. Everyone is angry over what has happened. It would seem our local authority values, its power, over the well being of its people."

He sat down next to Cat, folding his hands together in his lap. "I've heard about you. You're Catherine right? The Librarian? Vengeance, it consumes us in the end. And when we accomplish the means behind that revenge, there are usually more broken pieces to sort than before we started."

Catherine nodded and cleaned her face free from tears. They still continued to roll down her cheeks, but it seemed she had stopped actively weeping at the moment and was now just passively crying.

"They're devils...it's always, always about power, I'm afraid to say. Yes, I'm Catherine. I was the Librarian, but now I'm just...nothing. I don't have a job, no title, no anything anymore," Catherine admitted, gripping her hands tight as the tears increased again. "I've been holed up in my room since the storm stopped...I just can't face anyone, can't face the world anymore. I went on a drunken bender and thankfully got saved by someone, but...I still lock myself away..."

"May I?" Spider-Man asked, extending a hand that glowed blue.

"I...I guess so, sure..." Catherine replied, offering her hand in exchange. Unsure what was going to happen, but willing to try anything.

Spider-Man clasped his other hand on top, and sent an aura of cooling rain, with the smell of flowers into a restorative, calming spell. It wasn't much, but it would hopefully help for the moment. The spell brought inner peace and calm, soothing the toxins in the brain that agitated fear and anxiety. A wellspring with a meadow may have come to mind within the imagination.

"This is a simple restorative spell. I hope it calms you down a bit. Let's talk, I got time to listen. If you want," The Wizard Spider-Man said, letting go and placing his hands on his knees once more.

Cat took a few deep breaths as the aura of calm washed over her body. The flames returned to normal, a calm burning like that of a bonfire. She closed her eyes as the peace washed through her and let out a deep sigh.

"T...thank you, Spider-Man...I don't even know where to start. Everything that's happened over the last few weeks..." Catherine began.

"You can focus on things that make you happy. Or focus on things that make you sad. But the most important thing to be mindful of, is your feelings are rational, understandable. Your past... well. It should be redeemable. You've lived a long time. I'm sure you learned a lot. Seen a lot," Spider-Man replied, looking out at the recovering city. People walked by, some waved, recognizing the wall crawler.

"I've lived so much life...I know this sounds crazy, but don't seek immortality...this is just an aside, but my father, sister and cousins used to smoke when I was growing up. All of them told me the same thing, 'never start'. So, this is my smoker's advice to you. Don't choose immortality," Catherine said, patting Spider-Man on the shoulder as she looked with him. Now that she was in a calmer frame of mind, she saw the community coming together again. She saw people smiling, children having fun, critters and plants returning.

"What the heck should I do...? I ruined that grief group, and now I'm stuck with all these emotions I have no idea what to do with. I don't want to become a villain again, I have children and a family now. I want to be better for them..." Catherine wondered aloud.

"You speak like being a villain isn't your choice to make. Like being a hero, you have every choice to determine your alignment and how you handle things. Is something external influencing you? Or is it just a.... personal sort of mind madness. I mean that with sincerity, promise," Spider-Man said. "And what happened at your grief group?"

"Mind madness, no external forces. Just a broken mind hastily repaired being broken again..." Catherine sighed as she recalled the group, sharing the details of everything that occurred. She rested her hands on her face, a mixture of shame and embarrassment washing over. "Gods, I really blew it..."

An explosion was heard in the nearby vicinity. Screams and the like rang out as smoke plumed into the sky. Spider-Man looked up, then back at Catherine.

"Catherine. You didn't blow anything. And you deserve better than this. But the city needs me. Take this amulet," Spider-Man said, conjuring an amulet with a Spider on it. "Call on me when you hit that breaking point. But I'd prefer it if you called me before you hit that point."

Catherine took the amulet and looked it over. She looked to the plumes of smoke, and decided to help him in return.

"Wait..." Catherine said, reaching into her hat, digging around for a second before she pulled out two small glass bottles. "Potion of fire protection and potion of regeneration. Maybe this'll help me feel better, knowing I'm helping a hero. I'll...I hope I don't reach that point either, but now I know who to call if I do. Thank you, Spider-Man..."

"Thank you for these potions. I'll probably use them right away!" Spider-Man replied, swinging off, twirling with grace towards the fire.

Catherine remained seated, her mind now calm and able to focus on a single thought at a time. She thought a lot about what she wanted to do going forward, but only one thought continued to stick out; 'I can't go back to the way I was'. She stood up and decided to take a walk to ponder, hoping to find an answer to anything on her walk.

As she walked, Car watched the webslinger swing towards the sound of the explosion. She thought about joining him, but she knew she wasn't in a good mindset. She'd definitely do something drastic, so, best to not risk it.

Holding the amulet in her hands, she turns it and rubs a thumb on it. She just let her thoughts run around, bouncing to the past, the recent present, and her future.

She had no idea what she wanted to do in the future, except one thing: she didn't want to become a villain...she didn't want to be a killer, slaughtering to soothe her pain like she did in the Undercity.

Catherine let out a sigh, amulet wrapping around her wrist as she started to walk towards the park to just think about things in the quiet night.

She knew she would need some time, nothing is magically fixed overnight, but maybe next week group would be a little easier.

Maybe it could help to dampen the fires of hatred in her heart and mind.

#Wizard Spider-Man #ai art generation #roleplay

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exovapor · 4 years ago

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I'm OBSESSED with your writing. Can you try.. Maybe, Donnie being a filthy boy being an 'stalker-ish' of his long time crush? Be checks their FB for new posts, saves every picture of them he finds? He doesn't mean to be a creep, feels guilty, but just doesn't know how to ask for more than friendship?

Good afternoon Anon. Here is my short story in relation to your ask.

I wasn't sure where you wanted me to take this, so I had to do a bit of guessing on my part. I hope this something like you were wanting.

I will admit that this ask was a bit of a struggle for me, not knowing a clear direction to take it outcome made me a little unsure of my writing and guessing abilities LOL. However, I will admit to crying along with the characters in this story more than once.

Thanks again for the ask and the initial compliment. I hope to continue to earn your favor in future posts.

· Stalker [noun]: 1a person who harasses or persecutes someone with unwanted and obsessive attention. 2a person who hunts game stealthily.

· Donnie stared at the definition on his one of his monitor screens while his various other screens were busy flashing receipts of files downloaded, text trail streams from your phone, notices of any social media post/update/like/heart/emoji, a GPS line grid of your routes today (overlayed over the routes you’d taken previously), and data search hits of anything and everything that pertained to you.

· At this point, the boy had literally every picture you had ever posted, anywhere, of yourself. In fact, he had all the pictures that other people posted of you in them. He had even gone through the effort of designing a face recognition program that picks you out of the background of total strangers’ pictures and, yeah, he had those in a file too.

· He has special file folders that compile things that you like, things you don’t like, things that make you happy, things that make you sad. He is your own personal Pinterest and you didn’t even know it… and maybe that is the part that keeps bothering him so much.

· He sits staring at that word and definition and chewing his bottom lip. True, he knows the word and the meaning, but he needed to LOOK at it, analyze it, mull it over in his guilt ridden brain.

· He just KNEW the word Stalker couldn’t apply to him.

· After all, he isn’t harassing or persecuting you, you don’t know! So, it isn’t necessarily ‘unwanted attention’. It is just…unknown attention.

· Stealthily, hmmmm, did that part apply to him? Well, He isn’t EXACTLY being stealthy.

· If you knew about technology like him, then you would probably see his programs running on your devices and be alerted to his activities. AND, if you shared his love and view of technology, then you would probably be more understanding of his activities and not consider them stealthy…just data mining. In fact, you might applaud him.

· ‘Ok, that was taking it a bit too far’, Donnie thinks to himself and he feels a band tighten and squeeze around his infatuated heart.

· He is almost certain that you would be shocked to learn of his extra curricular activities and how they revolve around every aspect of you.

· Regardless of how he tried to spin the truth and wiggle out of the definition of stalker, Donnie still felt guilty for invading your privacy. However, he honestly couldn’t help himself…at least not anymore.

· He has fought the urge, the nagging thoughts and the burning need, to know more about you for what seemed like an eternity.

· Listen to him, he is starting to sound dramatic like Mikey! What is his turning into? He is losing his rational edge!

· To be accurate, it hasn’t been an eternity. In fact, he has known you 1 year, 36 days, 14 hours, 11 minutes, and 23 seconds to be exact. However, you started occupying space in his mind 2 minutes into meeting you and your claim over his mind has grown exponentially over time.

· You were quiet and reserved during that first meeting, so there wasn’t much to go on. It started as a simple visual interest with a thought of ‘Oh. She’s pretty’.

· However, then you started talking and that changed everything.

· You opened up more and more each time you hung out with their little group, revealing layers and layers of interests and personality. You were fascinating…and that’s when his thoughts about you really started to snowball and spiral out of control.

· You went from being a simple pretty face to being a walking embodiment of everything he seriously ever dreamed of having in a mate.

· Early on, there were three sticking points that really made Donnie’s feelings problematic. 1. He was a nearly seven foot tall walking talking turtle and you weren’t. 2. You had a boyfriend that you were deeply in love with and adored. 3. Donnie was too insecure about #1 and how you felt about inter-species dating to let you know that you had started to OWN his heart.

· Now, thanks to his surveillance, there were only two sticking points….#1 and #3.

· He still remembers the feelings of that day, 44 days ago, when the blip of information popped up on this screen alerting him to the fact that your boyfriend was starting to stray.

· Donnie had severely conflicting feelings bombard him at once and it was overwhelming.

· The initial knee jerk reaction was elation, one of the problems blocking him from you may soon be null.

· However, the feeling of elation only lasted for a second or two before the intense anger and sadness set in. Donnie was honestly shocked at the depth of his anger, he didn’t even know he had that level of malice in him. Had he been in physical proximity to your boyfriend at that moment in time, Donnie isn’t sure that he wouldn’t have hurt your guy…or worse.

· How COULD this guy do this? WHY would he? He HAD YOU! What the heck was this guy thinking? Not only did he have you, but you thought the world of him. When you spoke about him you would smile so genuinely, your eyes would shine and gaze off into a bright imagined future. Donnie was always so jealous to watch it happen, he wondered what it would be like to be THAT GUY. And here the idiot was throwing it all away and meeting up with another girl!

· WHAT THE…(yes, this called for a curse) HELL…IS WRONG WITH HUMAN MEN?

· As the anger set root in his heart, the sadness engulfed Donnie like an all-consuming wave. He realized he was going to have to share this information with you, somehow, and that he was going to have to watch as it destroyed you.

· At first, Donnie had a plan to try and save you both from that fate. True, it would hurt him more to save your relationship, but he would rather be the one facing the pain and not you.

· He TRIED to circumvent the situation. He sent anonymous messages to your boyfriend stating that he knew about the infidelity and that he would tell you if needed. However, it didn’t seem like your boyfriend cared because he sent messages back stating Donnie could, basically, go fuck himself.

· Life had cruel sense of irony, thought Donnie, that is exactly what I do since this moron has the woman that I love.

· So, after trying for nearly two weeks to stop what was happening behind your back, Donnie had no choice but to let you in on the secret.

· Donnie couldn’t come right out and tell you that he caught your boyfriend cheating by hijacking your data streams and the data streams of those around you. So, Donnie intercepted some texts between your boyfriend and his mistress and he then sent you a text, under the guise of your boyfriend, telling you to meet him at a specified restaurant for a date.

· It had been a gut wrenching night for Donnie. He remembered watching it all play out on camera feeds from around the restaurant and street outside. He watched you dressed up in your pretty dress get out of your cab in front of the restaurant. You had such a lovely smile on your face, you must have thought you were in for a romantic evening.

· He watched as you walked inside and how the hostess got flustered and confused by a 2nd girl showing up for your boyfriend’s seated-for-two table.

· Donnie stopped breathing as your eyes found the new couple holding hands and giving each other sweet kisses across the table. Hands and lips that were supposed to be yours were touching some stranger.

· Donnie watched your smile and eyes die…the light of your inner sun go out…

· …and it killed him.

· He’s not sure who was crying the hardest, you standing there in that restaurant witnessing the scene or him back at the lair watching your world crush around you on his monitor.

· It had taken a while for you both to recover from that night.

· His brothers noticed his melancholy mood for a couple of weeks but Donnie wouldn’t tell them what was bothering him. And you stayed in your bed, refusing to face the world, for nearly as long.

· Eventually, the group began to notice your silence and absence, so April stopped by your apartment to check on you. She was the one to pull you out of bed, get you to shower and eat. She visited everyday and made sure you had someone to vent to and a shoulder to cry on.

· Donnie was glad that April could be there for you when he couldn’t. He didn’t think it was appropriate for him, a male, to be your confidant at that time. Especially since he felt so much guilt over having to be the one to expose you to that pain.

· No, he didn’t CAUSE the pain, but he did have to make you face it and he didn’t like not being able to protect you from it. You were such a rare, precious creature and watching you in pain felt like he was suffocating slowly.

· There were some points during those first few weeks that he questioned if he did the right thing, but logic told him it would have eventually come to pass with or without his involvement. It was better to rip the bandage of quickly and let you start to heal than it was to let you linger and drag out the inevitable.

· Donnie did secretly check on you every single night during patrol. And, of course, his surveillance feeds were always running. He watched from a distance as his beautiful phoenix burn down to ashes and, eventually, started to rise again.

· Now, it’s been over 3 months and you’ve begun to be more like your old self. Donnie can tell there is a silent sadness there, but you are able to laugh and smile with the group during your get togethers. And each time you two are left alone, his mind nags at him about those last two sticking points.

· Would you be at all interested in him? And HOW does he go about telling you that you have become the center of his world?

· Still staring at the monitor and the Stalker definition, Donnie sighs and rubs the bridge of his snout to release of the pressure now pushing against the inside of his head. The memories of what has happened, the emotions of what was and what is, it was all starting to be too much.

· “Bro, what’s all this?”, Mikey says standing behind Donnie’s chair, talking around a mouth full of pizza.

· “NOTHING!”, says Donnie, voice breaking from the stress of being caught. A startled Donnie quickly taps some keys on his keyboard and the screens revert back to the standard lair camera feeds.

· Mikey may look or even come off as naïve at times, but he’s no fool, he can sense that his older brother is trying to hide something. “Dude, seriously, what was that? I’ve been standing back here reading the screens. I saw Y/N’s name and that looked like her phone number on that other file…, you know the file that looks like texts messages. And why is there a plotted map of the area around her apartment, her work, and to the lair? What’s up?”, Mikey said giving a disapproving look at being thought a pushover.

· “Just standard surveillance, Mikey, nothing to worry about.”, Donnie says trying to placate Mikey’s curiosity. Donnie hates lying, especially to Mikey, but he’s feeling so guilty about being such a…(inward sigh)…stalking creep that admitting the truth is hard to do.

· Mikey stands there staring at Donnie and, as he does, Donnie begins to fidget with his computer chair armrests.

· Mikey stuffs the remnants of the pizza slice into his mouth and does his best Leo impersonation by crosses his arms and staring down at Donnie as sternly as his jolly face can achieve, “Dude, I’m not going to ask you again. You’ve been weird for months. We’ve let it go for the most part but now you are hiding things from me…from ME, dude! You and I, we’re like peanut butter and jelly, we’re ice cream and chocolate fudge, we young dudes have got to stick together. Trust me, bro, I’ve got you!”.

· Donnie stared at the floor, too ashamed to meet Mikey’s eyes any longer. He gave a heavy sigh and reluctantly started to speak, “Sorry Mike, I…I honestly don’t know what’s come over me lately. I’m doing things I never thought I would do, I’m feeling so guilty about it, but I don’t know if I can stop doing it either. I feel…lost.”.

· Mike relaxed his leader stance and leaned against one of Donnie’s lab tables, “Bro, I can tell you’ve been carrying some heavy stuff lately. You need to let it out.”

· Donnie felt the heat rise up through his body like he was suddenly being consumed by a fire and he ripped his glasses off his face and drew them down on the desk in frustration, “Mikey, I’m in love with Y/N. I have been for a while. I have been…”, Donnie hangs his head in shame, “…tracking all her digital foot prints and watching her. In fact, I’m the reason she found out that asshole boyfriend of her's cheated.”

· Mikey’s mouth drops open at Donnie’s demeanor and use of the word ‘asshole’, “Whoa, dude, why didn’t you say something earlier?”.

· Donnie can feel a stinging at the corners of his eyes, this was so embarrassing, so frustrating, so��..so many things at a once. He didn’t have a response for Mikey, all he could do was shake his head.

· Still with his head hung down and staring at the floor, Donnie starts to hear Mikey chuckle. Donnie looks up to see Mikey’s eyes on him and for some reason they are full of merriment at his painful dilemma. Donnie stares at his, normally, very considerate brother in astonishment, this isn’t like Mikey at all!

· “Mikey, I’m more than serious here, now is not the time to make fun of me. What is so funny?”, Donnie asks exasperatedly.

· Mikey shakes his bald head and claps his brother on the shoulder with his green hand, “Bro, she thinks you’re cute.”.

· “W-What?!”, Donnie stammers out.

· Mikey, still chuckling, says, “Yeah, dude, that’s why I asked WHY you didn’t say something about liking her sooner, she’s always thought you were cute. She and I talk about it all the time.”.

· Donnie just stares at his jolly brother in silence. His mind is too blown to form a sentence.

· Mikey turns to leave stating, “And by the way, dude, stop watching her like that…that’s just creepy.”.

@turtle-babe83 @tmntspidergirl @kokokatsworld @nittleboo @the-second-circle-of-shell

#tmnt donatello #tmnt #tmnt donnie #tmnt fanfiction #tmnt x reader #tmnt bayverse #tmnt 2016 #tmnt fandom

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plenaurum · 3 years ago

Text

What Love Is: Pt 2/2

Might be an epilogue after this. I just wanted to get this out. Sorry it’s so long. Antoine Dawson. Word count: 3k. Part 1 here. Enjoy! Feedback appreciated but not required.

It has been over a week since she cut him loose. Throughout the week, she has had to dodge phone calls, FaceTime requests, text messages, direct messages, even comments under her Instagram posts from Antoine.

Funny how he gives a damn now.

Refusing to entertain him any longer, she avoided reading any of his messages, cutting her eyes away from words like “Y/N, I’m so—”, “I love—“, “Please can we ta—“, before she could get too far and let him pull her in too deep. Again.

So she blocked him. On everything. She unmatched him on Lovelink, blocked his phone number, his e-mail, all of his socials, even going as far as to private her social media accounts. She didn’t want to give him any wiggle room to slide back into her life.

And she refused to let the pain of having to let him go, of not being able to talk to him again, to see his face again, to hear his voice affectionately call her name in a way only he can, get in the way of her anger. Because she is angry. And heartbroken.

She would weather any internal storm if it meant not having to go through heartbreak like that again.

So she persisted.

“Are you sure you’re gonna be ok?” Jake asks.

They have just finished up a movie night with their friends Grace and Jasmin. They insisted that they have one because “you can’t spend your life wallowing over a fucker that couldn’t appreciate a bad bitch when he had one,” Jasmin said.

They’ve been pretty damn upset with Antoine, and make their disdain known whenever his name is brought up. Jasmin especially.

“This too shall pass,” Grace said ominously, curled up on the floor with a cup of toffee ice-cream.

“Is that Shakespear?” Jasmin looked over at her curiously, licking the remnants of the popcorn from her fingertips.

“It’s from the Bible!” Jake exclaimed. He was sitting on the floor next to Y/N’s legs, head leaning against her lap like a cat. Y/N let out a chuckle, a grin pulling at her lips as appreciation for her friends welled up in her chest.

It’s been about 20 minutes since Grace and Jasmin took off, Grace having to work on her thesis and Jasmin having a meeting with her model agency in the morning. They each departed with a huge hug and a kiss on the cheek. Jake stayed behind, however.

“I’ll be fine, Jake.” Shaking off the memory, Y/N gathers the rest of the dishes into the sink. “You don’t have to babysit me.”

Jake leans against the counter next to her, a friendly warmth radiating from him. “It’s not babysitting when it’s your friend, Y/N.” He begins to help her with the dishes, their arms occasionally brushing against each other as they move in-sync. Y/N felt a rush of affection at him for being so kind.

Jake. Always such a softy.

“Besides, I don’t have my date for another hour, so I don’t have to leave just yet.” Jake turns his head and quirks a smile at her, eyebrows dancing playfully. “I could always kick your ass in another round of Uno.”

Y/N can’t help but laugh. “You know damn well it’ll be the other way around, Romeo.” Jake shrugs, a triumphant grin still on his face. He doesn’t really care about winning so much as he does about making that sad look on her face go away.

“Besides, shouldn’t you be preparing for your Juliet?” She says teasingly.

Putting away the last dish, Jake avoids her eyes, a blush dancing on his cheeks. “They’re not Juliet. They’re just helping me film.” He mutters.

Another giggle bursts out of her chest. “You mean they’re not Juliet yet.” He rolls his eyes, a bashful grin breaking through.

“How is it going with them by the way?” She asks.

He perks up adoringly, jumps to sit on top of the counter, eyes shining. “It’s going so well!” He says excitedly. He goes on to talk about the person he met from Lovelink, ironically the same site that she met Antoine on. She listens to him talk, feeling the heaviness from her chest lighten up a little at how happy he is, how utterly smitten he is.

At least one of them can have their happy ending. She smiles softly, a little sad. “I’m really happy for you Jake.” She says sincerely. “You deserve this.”

He stops talking and just looks at her, a soft look on his face at her tone. “You deserve it too, you know.” She just smiles at him, a faraway look in her eyes.

“I’ll get there eventually.” She affirms. He slides off the counter and pulls her into his arms. She didn’t know how much she needed a hug until now. Burying her face into his neck, she sighs, the heaviness in her chest lifts significantly.

“I know you will,” He whispers.

They stay like that for a few moments until they hear a knock at the door. They pull away from each other, looking at it quizzically. “Are you expecting anyone?” He asks.

“No. It was just you guys.” Besides, it’s almost 9pm. There’s another knock at the door, this one more persistent. Jake furrows his brow. “Are you gonna get it or should I?”

“No, I got it.”

Letting go of his hand, she goes for the door, and opens it without even looking through the keyhole, curiosity getting the better of her. “What can I do fo--” Her eyes lock with Antoine’s icy blues.

An icy feeling shoots it’s way through her body. She’s frozen, staring at him, heart beating out of her chest. She can’t breathe.

Then she feels a presence at her back and Jake’s hand on her shoulder. She lets the warmth of his hand spread through her body, soothing her. He knows who it is, if the pictures are anything to go by.

She watches Antoine’s eyes shoot to where Jake is touching her.

Everybody’s frozen, waiting for someone to make the first move. Then Antoine clears his throat, shifting on his feet. “Um,” he stammers, face reddening. “Is this a bad time?”

Jake stiffens, face hardening a bit. He shoots a look at Y/N, who turns around to look at him. They seem to have a silent conversation, his eyes saying are you sure about this? To which she replies I’ll be fine. I got this. He nods.

“No. I’ll see you later Y/N,” She hears him say, still staring at Antoine. He meets her eyes, his own unreadable. She nods at Jake, turning to give him a weak smile. He returns it, then parts with a quick peck on her cheek. He shoots a sly look at Antoine, and says, “See ya.” Then, brushing past Antoine’s tense body, he’s off.

Taking a deep calming breath, she pulls herself together enough to say “Do you wanna come in?” He gives her a smile and nods. Stepping aside, she lets him in, making sure to press herself against the open door to prevent any contact between them.

Closing the door, she turns to look at him to see that his eyes have been on her the entire time, seemingly drinking her in. Ignoring the tingles that spread through her body, she crosses her arms and fixes him with a hard look.

“What are you doing here, Antoine?” She thought he was in Nepal. Probably chasing some baby animal and getting himself stuck in a cave, she thinks bitterly.

“I wanted to see you,” he replies. Giving her another once over, he smiles softly at her. “How are you? How have you been?”

“Fine. Good.” She says sharply, ignoring his flinch. “What do you need?” She repeats.

Hands shoved into his pockets, biting his lip, he looks toward his feet, obviously unsure. “I deserve that,” he mutters to himself.

Deciding to cut him some slack and be a good host to an otherwise unwelcome guest, she clenches her jaw and bites out “Do you want a drink?”

His shoulders fall away from his ears, hope all over his face. “Please.”

She says nothing else and instead, giving him a wide berth, walks to the kitchen. It must be obvious that she wants her space, because Antoine keeps a careful distance between them, following her lead. He doesn’t want to set her off and kick him out when he misses her so much.

Yanking out two glasses, she pours a glass of one for each of them, ignoring his watchful eyes, filling her own cup to the brim. She passes the other to Antoine, his fingers brushing against hers when he takes it, almost as if he can’t help himself. She yanks her hand back and takes a long sip.

She decides to take a seat. No use being uncomfortable in your own damn house. She fixes him with another hard look and says: “Sit down.” He obeys, taking the seat across from her at the counter. He hasn’t taken a sip of his drink yet.

A few moments pass in tense silence. She has a lot of questions for him that she refuses to ask out loud, like Why did you insist on keeping me around if you were just gonna keep running from me? Was I not enough for you? Why would you say one thing and then do the complete opposite? Why? Why? Why? But she won’t ask. She’s done looking weak, being weak for him.

She feels him staring at her. Looking toward the ceiling to keep the tears at bay, she takes another long sip of her wine, reveling in the warmth settling in her belly.

“Why are you here, Antoine?” She asks again quietly, looking down at her drink.

“Who was that?” He blurts out instead of answering the question. He looks almost guilty, like he knows he should’ve kept to himself.

“Who was who?” She says cooly.

“That—that guy. Is he—? Are you—?” He’s stammering, tongue not cooperating with him.

She looks at him incredulously. Is he serious?

She’s silent for a moment, wanting to be petty and reply with what’s it to you? We’re not together anymore! I’m not even sure if we were together at all! But instead, allowing herself a moment of weakness and not being able to bear the pain of him thinking that she’s moved on so fast, she just says: “That’s Jake. Remember?” She’s told him about her friends at the beginning stages of their relationship, making it clear that while she and Jake are really close, they’ve never thought about one another that way. Besides, they’re both in love with other people.

The relief he feels is painfully obvious. “Oh.” He says dumbly. “Oh.” He repeats to himself. He lets out a breath, as if he’s been holding it in anticipation of her answer.

She doesn’t say anything back.

He tries to catch her eye again. “Listen, I want to tell you something.” She cuts her eyes back to him. “And I know I’m not in a position to be making any demands right now, but I just need about five minutes, okay? Then I’ll go, no problem.” His eyes are wide, almost pleading for her to listen.

She grinds her teeth, wanting to be difficult, but also wanting all of this to be over already even more. She nods once. He sighs again, nodding to himself.

“I’m sorry.” He says softly. She tries not to scoff, head shaking tiredly. He stays strong, however.

He sets his glass down and leans closer, all of his focus on her as if she’ll disappear at any moment. “I’ve been stupid. And selfish. And an asshole.” He sounds angry with himself. Well, no shit. Good on you for realizing. I guess. She takes another gulp of her wine in response.

“Y/N, I turned it down.” She almost chokes. He shoots up and would have ran to her side if she didn’t put a hand up to let him know that she’s ok.

He sits back down gingerly, still gazing at her worriedly. “And I know what you’re thinking. I didn’t turn it down just to get you back. I mean—it’s part of it. But it’s not the only reason.”

“I love my job. I love what I do. I love being able to see all of these new places, to have all of these new experiences. I do.” Unshed tears well up in his eyes. “But I realized—none of it matters if I don’t have you.” Screwing up her face, she shakes her head in disbelief, trying to stop the tears from falling.

“No. No—”

He shoots up and speeds around the counter to kneel down next to her, looking up at her and taking her hand.

“Please listen.” He goes on further. “When you left me, I was angry at first. Frustrated. But it was with myself for—for hurting you so much. For being so selfish and not seeing what I was doing.”

“I’ve been running from my problems, Y/N. I felt like if I didn’t keep moving, that I’d—I’d spiral. What happened with my grandpa in Alaska really shook me to my core. And I noticed that whenever problems arise, I run away. I avoid them.”

“But at the same time, I met you, and I knew that I wanted you in my life. That you’d be it for me. You are it for me.” His voice shakes, but he runs a thumb over her knuckles, eyes roaming her face reverently. “I want a life with you. I do. More than anything, I want you.”

Her heart slams against her chest.

He sighs. “And I didn’t want to admit it but, that scared the shit outta me.” He sniffs, tightening his hand around hers. “I knew that one look at you and it was over. That I wouldn’t be able to run anymore.”

“Is that why you were so adamant about leaving?” She asks weakly.

He shuts his eyes, squeezing them tight. “Yeah. I—I didn’t know how to deal, Y/N. I wanted to run as far as possible, to keep going and to keep focusing on my career so that I didn’t have to.” He opens his eyes again, tears falling down his cheeks. “That’s why it was so hard for me to fly you out to see me in Columbia.”

“I thought you just didn’t want to see me.” She utters.

He shakes his head frantically, squeezing her hand so tightly it almost hurts. “No. I wanted to see you. More than anything.”

She tries to pull her hand away. “You’re confusing me, Antoine. That was the problem—”

“—Wait! Wait! Please!” He goes for her hand again, and she lets him, though she keeps her grip loose.

“I wanted to see you. But I was genuinely concerned for your safety. I didn’t want you to get hurt.” He grimaces, letting out a hollow laugh. “Hell of a job I did at keeping that from happening, huh?”

“And I didn’t want you to leave again. Because I knew I’d try to follow you. And I almost did. You don’t understand the pull you have on me—I wanted to be with you more than anything, more than I wanted to run. So I pushed back against it. Tried to ignore it. Threw myself into my work so I didn’t have to face it. Because facing you, in my mind, meant facing what I’ve been through.” He tentatively reaches a hand out, gently cups the side of her face, wiping away a tear. She has to keep herself from nuzzling into his hand.

“I can’t run from you. Yet I kept trying. And I was a fucking idiot for it.” He grits his teeth, the anger at himself glaringly clear.

“Because throughout all of this, I never communicated what I was feeling with you. I didn’t try to get over my fears for you. I was only thinking about myself and what I wanted. And you...” He slides his hand under her chin, leaving a trail of fire burning on her skin.

“...You tried to keep me happy. You followed me on my whims, you let me take the lead while I made decisions about us without ever consulting you. And I hate that I made you feel like you had to do that.” She feels her face burn, more tears spilling onto her face. His breath catches at that.

“Baby, can I hold you? Please? I can’t—”

She throws herself into his arms, full on sobbing now. He catches her, tucking her face into his neck, making shushing noises despite him having a few tears of his own, as he holds her tight, stroking her back. She feels him bury his face onto the top of her head. He continues. “I’m so sorry. It took that conversation and being without you for me to realize what an ass I’ve been. I’d love to keep you with me but more than anything I want to keep you happy.”

“I’ve scheduled my first therapy appointment.” He admits. “I’m not just doing it for you but it’s also for me. It’s for us.”

She pulls away, and at first he tightens his hold around her like it pains him to let go, but he eventually lets up. “If we get back together, you better be doing all of this for yourself. I can’t be your—“ she swallows, “—your emotional crutch. Not anymore.”

His eyes are understanding, earnest. “I know that. I don’t want you to be. I’m doing this because honestly…I need it, after what went down. And I want to make you proud. I wanna support you, too. To be here for you.”

She feels her heart swell in her chest despite herself. The last of her walls crumble away, and she’s left looking at him with an admiring, but stern, smile. “I’m not going through that shit again, Dawson.”

“I’ll do everything in my power to make sure I don’t hurt you again,” he promises, holding her hand over the strong, steady beat of his heart. She knows he’s telling the truth.

“Y/N—” She cuts him off with a kiss. He starts, but soon returns it, sitting down and pulling her onto his lap, hands gripping her waist. It’s painful, longing, loving--everything that they feel for one another poured into that kiss. She pulls away, but not too far, leaning her head against his. He shifts so his lips are a whisper away from hers, sneaking in a few more kisses.

“Y/N. I love you.” And she finally believes it. “And I’m done running. Will you be with me? Please?”

Her heart flutters. “I love you too.” She feels his heart speed up where it’s pressed against her chest. He hugs her even closer. She smiles against his lips. “You have me.”

#Antoine lovelink #Antoine dawson #noah lovelink #noah cruz #lovelink #lovelink fanfic #lovelink imagine #Antoine Dawson x reader #Noah cruz x reader

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poisonedapples · 5 years ago

Text

Prologue: Roman’s Fluffy Helper

Summary: Roman’s service dog Princess helps him with a lot of things. She gets his meds, helps him through panic attacks, and helps him be able to leave the house. What Roman didn’t expect was for her to help him make friends.

Pairings: Platonic LAMP, background familial Creativitwins

Warnings: Anxiety, food, mentions of panic attacks (though no one has one), mentions of epilepsy, swearing, some jokes about murder and death.

Word Count: 3,495

Notes: Something small I wrote in two days for the Service Dog AU, created because of this post I made. If you’re interested, you can always find some more stuff about this AU in the “service dog au” tag!

Virgil shared a few classes with Roman Sanders.

He was in his first two periods, and the only student (other than Patton) that Virgil actually took note of being in his class. Though, that was because it’s almost impossible to not notice him.

Roman was a really quiet kid, one that teachers hardly ever called on and was always excused from doing presentations (lucky bastard). Virgil had only heard him talk a handful of times, and he wasn’t exactly popular either. The thing that really made Roman stand out, however, was the giant golden retriever with a service dog vest that followed him everywhere.

He’d seen dozens of kids go up to him asking to pet his dog, met with a lot of refusal and Roman leaving the class if it got bad enough. Usually he would only sit at his desk, quietly doing his work while his dog curled around his feet and didn’t make a scene. If Virgil wasn’t a loner himself, he’d go up to Roman and maybe strike a conversation. But the guy always seemed to be calm when he was alone, and Virgil sucked at starting conversations, so they never actually talked.

It was only a month into school when Virgil had his first conversation with him. And it was absolutely not his intention.

Virgil was checking his phone at his designated lunch spot when Patton slammed his lunchbox on the table. “Virgil!”

“...Yeah?”

“There’s a cute little puppy over there!” Patton pointed to the other side of the lunchroom, but Virgil couldn’t see what he was talking about from this distance. How far do those damn glasses make you see? “I wanna pet the good boy so bad!”

Virgil kept looking where Patton was pointing. “Is it the drug dog again?”

“No, it’s a different one!” Patton seemed to be vibrating with excitement where he was standing, jumping up and down with the biggest grin on his face. He seemed to be fighting a fruitless internal battle before he loudly announced “I’m gonna go pet the puppy so much!”

The moment Virgil realized what was happening was almost in slow motion.

First, he saw a secluded table away from all the others, right behind the table Virgil thought Patton was pointing to. There, he saw Roman Sanders eating his lunch, his service dog under the table just like how it was during class. Patton ran across the lunchroom to go to the secluded table, dodging any kids that got in his way. Virgil realized in horror that Roman wouldn’t be able to stop Patton before he dived under the table just to pet a dog. And doing so could fucking kill Roman.

Virgil sprung up from his seat and shoved everyone out of his way to get to Patton in time, no matter how many bitchy remarks the other students made. Roman didn’t have time to look up and notice Patton approaching before Virgil pounced on his friend, nearly toppling them both to the ground with the force of him smacking himself into Patton. The security guards looked at them both as if preparing to break up a fight, but looked away when it only seemed to be two guys being kids.

Roman may not have noticed the bubbly kid charging at him before, but he certainly did now, looking up to see Virgil and Patton basically wrestling each other.

“Patton, don’t pet the dog!” Virgil yelled.

“Awwwww, but why not!?”

“It’s a service dog, you can’t distract a service dog or you could literally kill someone!”

Patton relaxed in Virgil’s grasp, “...Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.”

“Uh…” Virgil and Patton both looked at the poor kid that almost got attacked, “Do you...need something? Or…?”

Patton’s eyes lit up. “Your dog is so cute! What’s his name?”

Roman smiled shakily to hide his flinch. “Her name is Princess.”

“Princess? I love it! What breed is she?”

“Golden retriever…?”

“She’s such a good girl! I love her, she’s adorable!”

“Uh, thank you.”

Virgil let go of Patton, but still kept a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t scare the poor dude, Pat.”

“Oh! I’m sorry, I just really like dogs, and Princess is so cute and fluffy! I have two dogs of my own, but they’re a lot smaller, and I’d have a bunch of cats too if I wasn’t allergic.”

Roman’s voice gained a little more confidence. “Princess is the only dog in my house. My brother has a bearded dragon, though.”

“A bearded dragon sounds awesome! I don’t know much about reptiles though, and I’m always scared to hurt them because they’re so tiny. They’re super cute though!”

Virgil rolled his eyes. “Don’t mind him, he really likes animals. I’m Virgil, and this is Patton.”

“Oh yeah! I forgot to mention that! I’m Patton, do you how do?”

Roman laughed, but didn’t mention the reference. “Roman.”

“You’re in my first two classes, aren’t you?” Virgil asked, “With Mrs. Jones and Mr. White?”

He nodded. “...Didn’t you like...yell at Mrs. Jones a couple days ago over assignments?”

“She’s a bitch and deserves to know it. Who the fuck assigns three giant-ass chemistry packets due in three days?”

Patton waved his finger at Virgil disapprovingly. “Now Virge, just because the homework they give is ridiculous doesn’t mean you get to cuss out a teacher.”

“I didn’t say I cussed her out.”

“I know you, Virgil.”

“...The detention was worth it and I’m not sorry.”

Roman laughed again, and Patton smiled so wide that Virgil thought he would start jumping through the roof. “Hey Roman, can me and Virgil sit with you? I’d love to keep talking!”

Virgil noticed Roman’s leg begin to bounce violently. “Uh, sure…”

“Great! I’ll get our lunches!”

“Do you have any, like...allergies, Roman?” Virgil asked. Anything I might have in my lunch that could accidentally kill you? I don’t wanna kill you. Patton already almost did that. Let’s not give a second close call.

Roman shook his head, so Patton walked back to their previous spot to get their lunches. Virgil took a seat directly across from Roman, and once he did, Princess rose up from her place at his feet and lied across his lap. Roman started petting her with both hands, and Virgil felt a sense of panic rise in him. Please don’t fucking die. “You okay dude?”

Roman nodded, but Virgil pushed just in case. “Do I need to get like...a teacher? Or the nurse?”

Roman shook his head, then took a couple deep breaths in and continued to pet Princess’ fur. Virgil kept watching him carefully just in case, but it felt awkward sitting at the table with no conversation or food to focus on. Instead, Virgil mindlessly searched through Tumblr for the thirty seconds Patton was gone, placing his own lunchbox and Virgil’s tray on the table with a smile.

Virgil put down his phone and instead started eating some of his food, but Roman didn’t talk for a while. Princess still had her head on his lap with his hands combing through her fur, and the more she laid on him, the more Virgil began to worry. Why is she on him?

Well...only one way to find out. “So, Roman…”

Roman lifted his head up to look at Virgil. “Yes?”

“What kind of service dog is Princess? What does she help with?”

Roman turned his attention back to Princess, but he still smiled a little, so Virgil considered it a slight win. “She’s a psychiatric service dog. She does a very good job of helping with my anxiety.”

“Oh, mood.”

Roman raised an eyebrow. “You...have a service dog?”

Virgil’s face somehow became more pale than it already was. “Uh, no...I mean, like, I have anxiety too. Obviously not as bad as to have a service dog, but like...solidarity.”

Virgil took Roman’s second smile as an even bigger win. “Solidarity, I suppose.”

“How long have you had Princess?” Patton asked.

“About two years, I think. She was in training for a year, but she’s been my full-time service dog for this past year. I had another dog before her, but he’s retired now.”

Patton let out a loud horrified and upset gasp, “The poor baby! I’m so sorry!”

Roman’s eyes widened. “Not like that, no! Simba’s still alive, he just isn’t a service dog anymore! He keeps my grandparents company at their house.”

“Oh, good! He sounds like such a sweet puppy!”

“He is. I visit him sometimes, and he’s gotten very lazy, but he still jumps around and gets excited when he sees me.”

Patton covered his mouth with his hands excitedly. “Do you have a picture of the good boy, by any chance?”

Roman nodded and took out his phone. After a bit of searching, he tapped on a photo to show it to Patton and Virgil, causing Patton to gasp and squeal again. “Oh my goodness I love him! He’s such a good little puppy!”

“I would hardly call him a puppy anymore.”

“He’s an amazing puppy.”

“Just let it happen, dude. Pat insists every dog is a puppy.”

“They’re all babies!”

Roman smiled at the two bickering over his old dog, wondering if he should butt in with a witty quip of his own when Princess scooted off of his lap and back onto the floor. He definitely felt better now. Not completely calm, but nothing panic attack worthy. Right at the second he decided not to push his luck (saying what was actually on his mind was always harder around strangers, and he had just calmed down), the bell to signify the end of lunch buzzed through the entire school. Virgil stepped up to throw his tray away and Patton packed up his containers in his lunch box as Roman did the same.

“It was nice meeting you, Roman!” Patton exclaimed, holding out his hand for Roman to shake, which he did extremely stiffly and pulled away after only a second. Patton smiled anyway and didn’t seem to mind.

When Roman stood up to head out, Virgil came back and stood alongside Patton. “What class do you have after this?” He asked.

“Oh, uh...I actually go home after lunch. I do the rest of my classes online.”

“Damn, I wanted to bother you while you walked to class so I could skip gym.”

“Virgil, go to class!”

“It’s fucking gym, he doesn’t give a shit. I’m passing and that’s all that matters.”

Patton sighed but didn’t push it. It seemed he’d gotten used to it after this long. “Well, hopefully we run into you tomorrow, Roman.”

“Uh, actually…” The two looked at Roman and waited for him to speak. Princess pawed on his leg to warn him he was getting too worked up, but Roman ignored it this time. Definitely not his smartest idea. You can do it. Just say it. “...If you two wanna sit next to me, maybe, I wouldn’t really, uh...mind…”

Patton smiled, soft and reassuring. “We’d love that. See you at lunch, then?”

Oh hell yeah! “Yeah...see you tomorrow.”

Virgil walked ahead and waved a hand at Roman from behind. “See ya.”

“See ya, Roman!”

With that, Roman was left alone again, but this time he didn’t necessarily mind. His heart was beating out of his chest, and he couldn’t tell if it was from adrenaline or a sign of an attack, but he still considered it a win. No more sitting alone at lunch.

Roman and Princess walked through the crowd to exit the building through the main office. When he got into his car with Princess in the passenger seat, he took a minute to calm down before he started driving down the road. Princess stepped over to the driver’s side to comfort him one more time today, practically sitting on his lap and letting Roman comb his hands through her hair. The ball in his chest slowly grew smaller as his breaths became easier to take, though his arms still felt weak as they shook.

But yet, this kind of anxiety was worth it. Just this once.

When Roman did start driving, pushing Princess back to her side and taking off, he had a smile on his face the whole time.

***

“Yo, bitch!”

Roman groaned at the sound of his brother coming through the front door. “What!?”

There was no verbal response, but Roman heard the footsteps coming up the stairs before his bedroom door swung open. Remus posed dramatically in the doorway. “What’s up?”

“Just finishing up some online stuff, why?”

“Who was Mr. Ebony Dark’ness Dementia Raven Way and his friend Fluttershy?”

“...You mean the kids with me at lunch?”

“That’s the bitch.”

“Well, their names are Virgil and Patton, not whatever the hell you just said.”

“In my defense, of course the Raven Way guy is fucking Virgil.”

“What are you even talking about!?”

“Don’t worry about it!” Remus walked over to Roman’s place at his desk and threw his arms around him. Roman scoffed, but didn’t protest. “But why were they sitting with you? Do I have to commit murder? I know a guy.”

Roman tried his damn hardest not to smile. “Patton wanted to know about Princess, so we just...talked. It was actually quite nice. I even invited them to sit with me again tomorrow.”

“Roman Sanders? Making friends? Surely, you jest!”

“Says the guy who only has had one friend his entire life.”

“Janus is my ride or die and if you dare to insult him again, I’ll rip out your teeth and shove them up your nose.”

“You do that. Now get out, I’m working and you smell awful.”

Remus backed away with a gleeful smile on his face. “I rolled around in a giant puddle of mud!”

“Take a damn bath!”

Remus was out the door with a large slam before Roman could continue to argue. “I can’t hear you! But remember, if you need to bury a body, tell them you know a guy!”

Roman rolled his eyes and basked in the sudden silence. Princess looked up at him from his bed, and he couldn’t resist taking a small break to pet her. “He’s so weird, Princess.”

Although Princess couldn’t agree with her mouth, she absolutely did with her eyes.

***

A week had passed since Patton and Virgil started sitting with Roman at lunch. It had become his favorite part of the school day for more than just the ability to go home. He had friends. He was talking to people who he not only enjoyed talking to, but people who seemed to enjoy talking with him. Some people would consider only two friends too little, but Roman considered it the biggest of wins.

(His mom also seemed shocked but proud of him for socializing with people, so it was an even more amazing win than before now.)

Roman was perfectly content with his two friends. So long as he kept them, he would be more than fine. Sometimes his anxiety would act up and tell him that they’re only gonna leave him again, but he tried not to think about it. For right now, they were his friends. It was all that mattered.

What he didn’t expect was for him to get a third friend.

It was his fourth period class, right before his lunch where he was able to eat and have a good time with some company. He’d noticed the new kid that joined the school two weeks ago, but of course he never talked to him. He acknowledged his presence when the teacher introduced him, but that was it.

He was doing his math work when the new kid sat next to him. At first, Roman paid him no mind. Maybe he was getting distracted by the other students and wanted a more quiet place to work, or he liked how Roman’s table had almost no one sitting at it. It wasn’t until the kid spoke up that Roman gave him attention.

“Forgive me if this is too personal of a question, but how exactly did you train your service dog?”

Roman looked over at the kid. Oh yeah, hi, my name is Roman, what’s yours? “Oh, uh...some things I had to hire a personal trainer for, but I did some of the training on my own…”

“How long does it take to train a service dog?”

“Usually about six months, I guess...but it took me a year to make double sure she was ready.”

“Is she a medical alert dog?”

Why all the questions? “No, a psychiatric one.”

“Ah. I’m aware of psychiatric service dogs, but I have a little more knowledge when it comes to medical alert and seizure response dogs. However, I’ve never actually met someone who has a service dog. I’ve only done my own research out of curiosity, especially with my own disability.”

Roman got the courage to look up from his work at that. The kid had nerdy, square glasses over his eyes and straight black hair shifted to the right side of his face. Despite the fact that it wasn’t even fall yet and they lived in Florida, he still wore a purple hoodie that almost completely engulfed his body. The hoodie read I don’t look sick? You don’t look stupid! in white and purple letters, and on his wrist, a silicone band saying Alert! Epilepsy with a red medical symbol on both sides of the words.

Roman almost said Oh aloud. He’s not trying to be rude. He’s probably trying to find someone like him, especially if he’s new. Come on, Roman, be polite! And don’t freak out for once! “...You do have quite the epilepsy hoodie there.”

The kid looked down at his hoodie and smiled slightly. “Yes, well...it encompassed my kind of humor, and I am rather intolerant to the cold. Under this I have a Doctor Who shirt.”

“I, uh...don’t have any service dog shirts, but Princess has a lot of patches.”

“Is it alright if I look?”

“Sure, just...don’t pet her or anything.”

The kid waved it off. “Don’t worry, I know better than to get her attention.” He ducked under the table carefully, like any sudden movement would alarm Princess. He rose back up after a few seconds and gave his attention back to Roman. “She has a lot of Disney-themed patches. Where did you get them?”

Roman’s heart started beating faster. “...I actually, kinda, um...I made those ones myself.”

“You did a good job with them. They’re very intricate.”

“Thanks…”

“Oh! I apologize, I never actually introduced myself. I’m Logan.”

Roman gave him a nervous smile. “Roman.”

The bell rang, and everyone in the class started to pack up their stuff. Roman put his unfinished paper in his homework folder and stuffed it in his backpack while Logan did the same. When they both stood up, Logan addressed him one last time. “I have to go to lunch, but I hope we can talk another day.”

Roman felt that same desire come up in his throat. The desire to ask, to say something he usually would never consider asking. He couldn’t stand speaking to people, especially acquaintances, but Logan had a different energy to him. He was calmer, understanding, and a lot easier to handle than someone like Patton. Not to mention that his therapist did mention he can only get better if he pushes himself…

Princess didn’t alert Roman of a possible panic attack, so he considered that some kind of improvement. “Actually, Logan?”

“Yes?”

Come on. Do it. Say it. Three, two, one… “...Would you, uh...maybe wanna sit with me and some of my friends? Today?”

Logan’s face didn’t give him any hints to his emotions. “I would appreciate that.”

“I can...show you where it is, if you want?”

“Sure. I’d be happy for you to show me.”

The two walked out of the classroom, Roman and Princess in front of Logan to lead the way to the table. The two had a moment to situate themselves before Patton and Virgil came over, and with such a small table, Roman felt like the place was all the more crowded now. All the more welcoming.

Admittedly, a million times better than always sitting alone. He saw Remus staring from another table with those mischievous eyes, but he didn’t pay him any mind. When they were home alone, then he could bug him about it.

As always, right underneath his feet, Princess was curled into her ball, ready for any signs to jump into action. Instead, Roman looked at her under the table while the others went to get food. Apparently, he thought, you are a very good conversation starter when I need it.

“Good girl.” He whispered, although Princess didn’t seem to comprehend that he was talking to her. Instead, Roman took a mental note to give her a treat when they got home.

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2manyfandoms2count · 4 years ago

Text

Sleepless in Paris

I ended up not posting anything Ladrien in June when I'd planned to do something, but then I saw the last prompt of @ladrienjune (Speechless), and since it tied in with an idea I had a couple of weeks ago... Here you go!

Established Ladrien, Adrien receives a text from his girlfriend and overthinks its meaning. Thankfully Ladybug comes and clears things up.

Loosely based on a quote from Le Discours, a novel by Fabrice Caro.

Read on AO3

---

Adrien, we need to talk.

Adrien read the message over and over again, like an overworked student stuck on a paragraph whose meaning just won’t register.

He tossed his phone aside and lied back down, rubbing his eyes as he did so.

Oh, how much he regretted ever getting Ladybug a private phone so they could communicate. It had seemed like a good idea after their third close call, when she had almost swung into his room like she owned the place (and maybe she did, she was his girlfriend, after all, anything was possible), in the middle of an impromptu piano recital his father had requested. Thankfully, the false notes he’d made upon seeing her almost crash into the window had covered any sound she’d made as she changed course, and made sure his father and Nathalie’s attention was on him, and not on the red blur just outside.

She’d laughed so prettily when she’d unwrapped the box and noticed that he’d painted little black dots on the back of the red phone case. She’d insisted on paying him back in kisses and sweet nothings. Even if he’d wanted to, he wouldn’t have been able to refuse; his girlfriend was convincing like that.

Yes. Those had been the good old days.

The ones when the messages he received from her didn’t come as a blow that made his stomach tie into knots and question if he was going to be okay (although that might not have been entirely true; the feeling he’d gotten when he’d read “I love you” on his screen, written down, not just whispered between two makeout sessions or before she left, a permanent trace of her feelings, could definitely have fit that description, but the difference was that he’d questioned if he was in heaven, then).

The timestamp of the message read Monday, 4:36pm. He’d managed to type a “when?” at 5:58pm, which she’d seen at 5:59pm. Nothing since. That was new, too. Even messages that didn’t require an answer always got at least a couple of emojis in reply.

It was now Tuesday, 6:12am, and he hadn’t slept a wink, dissecting the five words, twenty characters, like they were a long lost spell that could fix hunger on Earth.

The first thing he’d noticed was the full stop. That didn’t bode well - even he knew that nobody ended a text like that these days.

Then, the comma. A pause. Not great either, in the context of a relationship.

Especially when it came before a “we need to talk”. He didn’t need to have seen many romantic comedies to know that this was probably an end of the line warning.

Even his name was a sign.

Adrien.

Not “my prince”. Not “my love”. Not even “my Adrien”, like she’d taken to calling him recently. Just plain old boring Adrien . Until the message had arrived, he hadn’t realised they’d been on a downward slope, but maybe he’d been too busy burying his head in the sand to notice. Maybe deep down, he’d known that it wasn’t viable.

That Ladybug, basically a goddess among men, had no business being in a relationship with a commoner like him, however much she tried to fool herself by calling him her prince. Adrien. The more he read it, the more emphasis he put on the second syllable. Ad- rien . Ad rien. Towards nothing. Maybe she’d known they were doomed from the start, that they had no future, but she’d tried anyway.

Maybe he was reading too much into it and the lack of sleep was making him delirious.

Whatever the outcome, he supposed they’d had a good run. He’d cherish all of the moments they’d spent together.

Actually, he thought, sitting up again, maybe that was what she needed. Maybe he could change her mind if he reminded her of all their good memories. There was no way she couldn’t be convinced, or at least persuaded, by his plea. He hadn’t gone six months playing a double game of putting on a fake insensitivity mask over the one he wore with Chat Noir's to avoid her seeing through him, when she deserved to be showered in compliments at every moment of the day, for it to end this way.

He loved her.

He picked up his phone again and pressed the dial button.

One tone. Two tones. Three.

Adrien suddenly remembered the time, hastily hung up, and facepalmed audibly, making Plagg roll over in his sleep and hiss.

“Sorry,” he whispered, before turning his attention back to the phone.

If his call hadn’t woken her up, then his mistake would be the first thing she’d see when she did.

This was bad. It wasn’t like he could go delete the evidence. He didn’t know where she lived, and since he doubted that she slept while transformed, there was no way to track her. Which would also be bad, he reminded himself, but maybe this emergency would justify it.

Anyway, he couldn't cry over spilt milk, but maybe he could escape. Just move somewhere, preferably on the other side of the world. He could change his life, his name (actually, could that alone change the outcome of their relationship? If he changed it before planning anything, could they pick up as if nothing happened, and would the timeline be fixed? He wished he’d thought about it before calling her), and raise hamsters in the mountains. What he didn’t know couldn’t hurt him, right? And then he could live happily ever after in the sweet, sweet illusion that despite them being miles apart, he still lived in a world in which he was Ladybug’s boyfriend.

He didn’t know if he preferred the idea of her never coming after him, or her seeking him out, even if it was to deliver bad news, but it didn’t really matter. The plan sounded good. Foolproof.

He hopped off of his bed and pulled a suitcase out of his closet. He’d always wondered why his father stored them there when it really seemed like an unnecessary temptation, but at least it was useful now.

If he was to start over somewhere, he needed to leave Adrien behind. The guy was a train wreck anyway, but unfortunately for him, a train wreck people would want to find, when he just wanted to be left alone to mope.

No more white shirts, then. They were too recognisable. He found a collection of dark hoodies at the back of the closet and stuffed them in the bag, along with t-shirts (they’d be hidden under his hoodie so he could keep those), a pair of jeans and some shorts.

He came back into his room and put his suitcase on his bed, scanning his surroundings for other essentials. His eyes landed on the fencing cup he kept his Ladybug pictures in. He’d definitely need those. It would help maintain him in his illusion. He also needed his Ladybug pyjamas, which he kept hidden since he wasn’t sure his father would approve of them. They’d be perfect for his new life.

Plagg stirred on his pillow. Before Adrien could ask himself whether it was reasonable for the small god to come with him, there was a knock on the window, and he froze. He turned around slowly; Ladybug stood in the window frame, looking glorious in the soft dawn light. He noticed she was holding a small paper bag in her left hand. He was sure it could fit everything he’d ever gotten her.

“Going somewhere?” She frowned, hopping inside before he could even move.

Adrien stared at her, before guessing he’d better bite the bullet. “Well I just figured I’d rather not stick around if you’re going to break up with me.” He crossed his arms over his chest.

He watched her face fall and started to doubt his conclusion.

“Break up with…” she muttered slowly, as if tasting the words, before shaking her head. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Adrien, we need to talk.” He airquoted. “I get it, it’s fine. I’m-”

“Adrien, I’m not here to break up with you. At all.” She shook her head again and took a step forward. “What would make you think that?”

“Adrien, first of all,” he stated.

“Your name?...” She tilted her head inquisitively.

“You used to call me my Adrien. Or sweeter stuff.” He pointed out.

“Oh Kwami.” She shook her head, trying to repress a smile, although the blond didn’t notice.

“And then don’t think I didn’t notice you being less present lately.” He waved a finger at her, feeling himself blush. He knew his accusation was a tad hypocritical; sure, their date hangouts in the previous few weeks had been less frequent than they’d been at the beginning of their relationship, when she’d drop in practically every day, but they’d also been full of Akumas and photoshoots, what with his father’s new collection dropping. She’d managed to beat him to his room most days, hanging out around the windows as she waited, which had made it very difficult for him to sneak back in.

But on the occasions they had seen each other, she’d also seemed more lost in her thoughts than usual. Nervously wringing her hands together while they chilled in front of a movie, despite him soothingly raking his fingers through her hair. Being even more elusive about what was going on in her life, if that was possible. Looking at him with determination in her eyes, opening her mouth to speak, only to close it and shake her head with a sigh.

“I’m really sorry about that, my love .” She gave him a pointed look as she took his hand. “I’ve just been thinking a lot lately, about you, me, our relationship. How, you’re right, it might seem like we’re spending less time together to you , but…” she trailed off, biting her lip.

“How could that statement have a but ?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Well, um, I had this sort of crazy idea, because we’ve only been dating for six months and it’s totally not like I ever imagined us getting married and having three kids and a hamster or anything…” she mumbled nervously, and Adrien felt his heart flutter in his chest. “Anyway, I’ve been trying to get a hold of Chat Noir all night to check that he approves the idea, and also because I feel like it’s kind of an unspoken agreement that unless it’s an emergency and it really feels right, we’d do this together first, but he’s not replying and I was awake and you were awake and I thought…”

“Okay my… Lovebug, breathe.” Adrien’s caring boyfriend instinct kicked in as her rambling gave him confirmation that their relationship wasn’t in immediate danger, and he placed his hands on her shoulders, taking a deep breath to show the example. She mirrored him, and they breathed in sync for a couple of cycles, until he was satisfied that she’d stopped hyperventilating. He lead her to his couch and helped her sit down.

“Croissant?” she asked shyly, presenting him with the bag she’d brought. A pastry bag. Not a bag with his belongings. He really needed to stop jumping to conclusions.

“You know me so well.” He smiled brightly as he took one of the baked goods. They were still warm. The croissant didn’t last long in his hands. “Anyway,” he gulped down the last bite, “if you don’t mind me asking, what was your miraculous idea?” He smiled at himself, proud of his pun.

“Well, I was thinking that I could reveal my identity to you,” Ladybug replied, daintily wiping the corners of her mouth with a tissue.

It was a good thing Adrien was already sitting down, else more than his jaw would have ended up on the floor.

“Your… Your identity. Reveal. To me.” He asked seriously, hoping his words would make sense to her. It was better than remaining speechless.

“Yes, I am considering it,” she laughed. The sound made his brain tangle even more.

“Why?” He croaked.

“Well, as I said, it would enable us to spend more time together.” He raised his eyebrows, but she didn’t elaborate. “And I don’t know, I feel like it would be right. You’ve got something, Adrien.” She smiled tenderly.

“I… I do?” He felt himself blush.

“It’s just a croissant crumb, there, let me get it for you.” She leaned forwards and kissed the corner of his mouth. The contact jump started his brain.

“Ladybug, this is serious.” He backed away slightly. “Why me?”

“Fine.” She sighed. “Well, you're my boyfriend, but I know you a lot better than you might think. Before you say anything, no, I can’t tell you why yet, I need to speak to Chat Noir first. But there is something about you, Adrien. I feel like I can trust you. With this. Because of course I trust you otherwise.”

Adrien looked down at his hands and twiddled his thumbs, pouting as he thought.

“Adr- Sunshine? Is everything alright?” Ladybug placed a concerned hand on his thigh when his silence stretched to a slightly uncomfortable length.

“When you talk to Chat Noir, and he agrees to your plan…” He looked up and met her gaze.

“If,” she corrected him, but he waved her interruption away.

“...Will you guys reveal your identities to each other? Will you ask Chat Noir who he is under the mask?” He felt almost feverish as he searched her eyes for a hint of the answer before she could speak.

“Um, yes, I guess that’s how I saw the discussion going.” Ladybug frowned. “Are you concerned that it will change our relationship somehow? Because I promise it won’t, I-”

“Oh Bluebell, it definitely will, but not in the way that you think.” Adrien pecked her lips, a mischievous smile spreading on his as he pulled away.

“Oh?” Ladybug blinked a couple of times. Adrien tried to hide his smugness at her speechlessness.

“Yep. You see, I’m one hundred percent paw-sitive your dearest partner will agree to your plan.” He grinned, watching the realisation dawn on her face.

“How hard was refraining from making cat puns in the past six months?” Ladybug finally sighed, a small smile tugging at her lips.

“Very, my Lady.” He pouted. "But not as hard as refraining from kissing you on patrol."

“Maybe you can help him pay up all the Camembert he owes me for sitting through him ranting about all the missed opportunities,” Plagg called out, making her jump slightly. Adrien rolled his eyes.

“Anyway, you were right, your plan really will allow us to spend more time together!” His face lit up like a kid's on Christmas morning.

“You don’t know the half of it.” Ladybug shook her head, before looking back up at him, an indecipherable look on her face. “Need a lift for school?”

“That’s all you’ve got to say?” Adrien looked at his girlfriend with kitten eyes, disappointed that she hadn’t held up her side of the bargain.

“Well, it’s time to go if you don’t want to be caught by your bodyguard.” She shrugged, stood up, and extended a hand toward him, the twinkle in her eye the only tell in her poker face.

“Ladybug…” He whined, pouting.

“What, Chaton?” Her smile finally broke free. “It’s very literally on my way. I can drop you off at your seat, and then walk to mine… Right behind you.” She booped him on the nose.

Once again, Adrien was thankful he was already sitting down.

As she carried him to school, Adrien decided sleep was overrated. Sometimes reality was the best dream of all.

#ladrienjune #miraculous ladybug #the miraculous tales of ladybug and cat noir #mlb #miraculous fanfiction #miraculous fanfic #ladrien #ladybug #adrien agreste #day 30: speechless #identity reveal #established ladrien #elle writes

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themusicplayedherlife · 4 years ago

Text

to love is the greatest gift

2. the dinner

pairing: obi wan kenobi x f!reader (past!din djarin x reader | past!obi wan kenobi x satine kryze) characters: f!reader, anakin amidala-skywalker, padmé amidala-skywalker, mentiones of din djarin, obi wan kenobi, others word count: 3.6k+ warnings: angst, fluff, death, longing, some arguing, slow burn summary: au! It has never been the right timing for you and Obi Wan, but maybe this time will be different. a/n: thank you so much for all the love in the previous chapter! i was so overwhelmed that i was a little nervous posting this part ;w; i really hope you guys enjoy this story! and do let me know what you think of the current formatting. is the switch from past to present jarring? or is it okay?

prev || all || next

Then.

The heat that Summer brought to Coruscant was different than Tatooine’s, less harsh and dry, and more of a kiss of warmth on your skin. Mother did say that Tatooine was always more temperamental, quick to heat up; while Coruscant could be a little tepid sometimes, but always a lot of fun.

That was probably the only nice thing about Coruscant. Everything else about the city—like their streets—were too confusing.

Following the directions on your phone, you pulled the straps of your backpack tighter with your unoccupied hand, eyebrows furrowed as you tried to read the map on your phone. Was this truly the place you were meant to meet your guide?

You looked up at the quaint house in front of you, quite a ways away from downtown and more in the suburbs. It looked like a cottage, like the ones in home magazines your mother liked collecting or the ones in Naboo or Stewjon. Could a high schooler, even one able to attend a prestigious private school, be able to afford such a home?

Did the headmistress confuse the address? Seemed possible. The woman seemed to be much more interested in the absolutes of rules and manners than actually helping you find your guide. Maybe you should have accepted your mother’s offer to accompany you. Or maybe convinced your parents to let you come with Anakin, you were sure Shmi wouldn't have minded.

You stood on your tiptoes, trying to take a peak over the white fence covered in a fuchsia flower—bougainvillea, if you remembered correctly. When that didn’t work, you stuffed your phone into your pocket and with hands holding onto your backpack straps to not jostle your belongings around too much, you began to jump.

There was a sound, like the sound of metal clinking and wood screeching, and the gate opened to a boy? man? (too young to own a house and maybe a few years older than you). He stepped out, blue eyes stopping on your curious form and greeting you with an amused, “Hello, there.”

You knew he had seen you jumping, there was no way he wouldn’t be looking at you the way he was if he hadn’t—embarrassing.

“Hello,” you greeted him back, timid and quickly setting your feet flat on the ground.

“May I help you?” he asked you, his Coruscanti accent thicker than the ones that greeted you at the terminal, much more charming too. It reminds you of all the actors you’ve seen on screen, speaking clearly and with nuance—never faltering. “You seem to be quite lost.”

“Oh, yes, I’m looking for someone,” you found yourself saying, tone turning formal and stiff. He removed his flat cap to push wisps of auburn hair away from his eyes, nodding for you to continue when you paused. “Padmé Amidala, is her name. She’s supposed to be my guide?”

At the mention of Padmé, the kind stranger sighed, hands falling to his hip. “Ah, now I understand why she came over. Did father know?” he murmured under his breath, looking back at the house with a raised brow. “Give me a moment and I’ll fetch her for you.”

You nodded quietly, watching him turn back inside, but not even two steps in, he stopped and turned back around, flashing you an almost sheepish, but albeit charming smile.

“Pardon, that was a bit rude of me. Would you like to come in and wait for her in the garden?”

You mulled it over—following a stranger into their home was always something you had been advised against since you were a child. It would be completely unwise, wouldn’t it? But he seemed too kind, eyes too innocent and earnest to hurt you. And so, against your usual better judgement, you nodded. “If it’s no trouble?”

“None at all,” he assured you, opening the gate wider, “please come in. I’m Obi Wan, an old friend of Padme’s.”

You gave him your name and he smiled at you, wide and completely beautiful. “A pleasure to meet you.”

Now.

You were only a girl back when you first met, immature and blossoming and he was a young man, all roses and maturity—too much like his father (and yet nothing like him)—it was never going to be the right time for you.

Even now, standing before you—him with his tidy, combed auburn hair, white, stupid shirt that is freshly pressed, and brown slacks and dress shoes that are anything but casual—you feel like that girl all over again.

“It has been a long time, Obi Wan.” Obi Wan. Obi. Obi. It’s been so long since you’ve said his name aloud that it feels so foreign on your tongue now. “I—I didn’t know you were visiting.”

His eyebrows furrow, deep, cerulean pools gliding away to the white door only a few steps away. His nostrils flare with a breath and turns his gaze back to you, opening his mouth to say something—he doesn’t get the chance.

“There you are! You said—oh,” It’s Padmé. Beautiful, sweet Padmé looking as lost and confused to see Obi Wan just at the entrance of her driveway, with you. “Obi Wan?”

“Hello, old friend.” His head is slanted towards her now, a soft smile on his face. “It has been some time.”

Friend. There’s always been that distinction between you and her in his words and actions. She was and is friend or little sister, and you were and have not always been darling—that always something, but never just nothing.

“Yes, it has,” she says, unable to change her expression, and you don’t blame her. You still can’t believe it either.

Did Anakin know?

“Honey, where is—“

Of course Anakin knows, how could he not know? Look at his stupid face peeking over Padmé’s shoulder like the kriffing embecile he is! Those wide blue eyes don’t fool you, not one bit!

Dinner is quiet for the most part.

The twins are unsure of the newcomer, even though Padmé and Anakin keep reassuring them that he’s a friend, their godfather (something they are aware of thanks to the pictures of the six of you sitting on the mantle of their fireplace). The twins were only a year old when he returned the first time and around three years old when he left the second time. They have no attachment to the man sitting at the head of the table.

They absolutely refuse to sit next to him—Obi Wan smiles, but there’s a flash of pain in his eyes at hearing their quiet reluctance and rejection to get to know him—and so, you and Anakin take the seat closest to him and across from one another. Leia by his side and Luke by yours. Padmé takes the other head, smiling placidly, but her brown eyes waver when they meet yours every time.

Utensils scrape against ceramic, Obi Wan occasionally asking questions—how have you been? how’s work? how’s school? did Mr. Ford finally move? Quinlan still touring? Mr. Windu still teaching at the school?

It’s Anakin that mostly answers for all of you, trying to keep dinner as lively as it usually is, but with the kids eating silently by your side and not falling for their dad’s bait, it falls flat.

This dinner was supposed to be full of discussion—who will be joining us? will I need to buy more bread? did the know Qui Gon? does it matter? coffee for how many people, again? But you can’t bring any of them up in fear of how Obi Wan would react, and quite honestly, you think it might be because you don’t know how to react to his presence, yet.

Your heart squeezes in your chest every time you glance at him and find him looking back at you, a longing to reach out and take him into your arms edging ever so slightly forward every time. But there’s also a part of you that wants to keep him at a distance, to not give him the ability to hurt you when he inevitably leaves again. And that latter part of you is probably the reason why you blurt a question you should’ve kept to yourself.

“Why are you back?” Anakin trails off, his voice lowering when yours suddenly cuts through his. Obi Wan’s eyes widen and his mouth hangs open slightly and you realize your question comes off more accusatory than you meant it to sound. “I—I mean, it’s just so sudden and—“

“I know,” Obi Wan interrupts, soft; understanding. “I wasn’t sure I should come back,” he admits, remorse floating around his words (whether for having felt that way or because he knows it’ll hurt you, you don’t know) and you quickly face forward, meeting Anakin’s hurt eyes that most likely mirror yours, “but the firm has offered me a promotion and Anakin managed to convince me to test it out.”

You release a shuddering sigh, you had a feeling he knew.

Now it’s Anakin’s turn to quickly look away from you (you can’t help but wonder if he saw the hint of betrayal beginning to bubble in the pit of your stomach), only to be trapped by his lovely wife’s. Once more, he breaks contact and stares down at the plate in front of him instead.

“I’m sorry,” Obi Wan starts after a brief tense silence, “if I had known you weren’t aware I wouldn’t have—“

“We’re glad you’re back, Obi Wan,” Padmé interjects, a soft, lovely smile on her face—always so good with people, “for however long you wish to stay.” Although you know she means it, there’s still some hesitation in her words as her gaze flickers between you and him.

“Yes,” you find yourself saying, somehow managing to keep your voice leveled through it, “we’re glad you’re back.” And just like Padme, you know you mean it too, even if there’s a hint of hesitation in the way your eyes won’t meet Obi Wan’s gaze as you say it, focusing instead on the bridge of his nose.

You think he knows it too with the way his hands resting on the table roll inward, an uncomfortable veil beginning to fester as he keeps quiet, eyes drooping and the corner of his lips pulling down.

“Auntie,” Leia whispers, breaking the tension, from across the table and you hum, turning to face her with a wavering smile, “may I please have your piece of roast if you’re not going to eat it? It’s getting cold.”

You blink, and you’re sure everyone else is just as surprised as you are by her words—it’s such a little Leia thing to say, but at this moment? None of you were expecting it, and so, when you erupt into laughter, the room does too, the shock wearing off.

Leia looks around at the adults and she and Luke share a look before shrugging. She murmurs about roasts and perfectly good meat, and you shake your head as your laughter begins to die down.

“You can have it, honey.”

“Sweet!” Her eyes brighten and she grins, immediately digging into the piece of roast you’ve set on her plate.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” Anakin whispers into the quiet space between you; the two of you staring out into the living room from the kitchen, leaning back onto the island.

It doesn’t surprise you that Obi Wan somehow manages to get the twins to warm up to him—Leia on his right and Luke on his left, the scrapbook you gifted them last year filled with Polaroid pictures of constellations opened on Obi Wan’s lap. He’s always been particularly good with kids, a trait he must’ve inherited from Gui Gon, who had an immense patience for teaching little ones how to play the piano and guitar.

Padmé sits with them too, keeping their attention away from you and Anakin and the inevitable arguing that might occur.

“This is Cetus!” you hear Luke point out.

“It’s our favorite ‘cause it’s a sea monster!” Leia informs him giddily, leaning forward to trace the stars to form the shape. “And this is And—Andromeda! It’s our Auntie’s favorite.”

“Is that right? It happens to be my favorite too.” Obi Wan glances over his shoulder, his eyes meeting yours for a split second—and you refuse to unravel the mess of emotions swirling in your stomach from that simple glance—before returning his attention back to the eager children, voice lilting. “Which one is this one?”

“It doesn’t matter anymore.” You cup your cheek, the other holding your elbow to keep it perched—but it does matter. It very much matters that Anakin knew and kept it from you, blindsiding you completely. If you had known—if you had known you wouldn’t have come. You could’ve mentally prepared yourself for his reappearance in your lives. But instead you got punched in the gut. “He’s here now.”

“I wanted to tell you,” he rushes to admit. “But I—when he told me he would visit—try out that new job, I didn’t think he actually would.” Anakin crosses his arms over his chest, eyes downcast and focused on his crossed ankles. “He’s done this before, you know?”

Your head snaps in his direction—this is the first you’ve ever heard about it.

“Once after your 21st birthday and another after Din and you broke up.” Anakin lets out a frustrated sigh and the hand that had been cupping your cheeks curls into a tight fist. “I wanted to surprise you, so I didn’t tell you. But he always called the night before to say he couldn’t make it. Some surprise, huh?”

“Anakin…”

“I thought—I don’t know what I thought, to be honest.” He laughed self-deprecatingly and you squeeze his forearm. “I just hoped he would. I’m sorry”

“I’ll get over it, Ani,” you promise him, soft, the hurt and betrayal you felt dissipating like wisps of smoke. “I understand why you didn’t tell me.” He tries to smile at you, but fails. “I’m glad he’s back, really, I meant it when I said it… but—“

“It hurts,” he finishes for you, sympathy and understanding laced in those two words.

“Always.”

“Do you know which one is this one Uncl’Obi?” Leia asks.

“Mama, knows it,” Luke follows.

“Does she? Care to give me a hint?”

“That'd be cheating.” Padmé laughs.

“No cheaters here,” Leia agrees, nodding her head with each word.

“Oh, fine. Let’s see…” Obi Wan chuckles, his hand coming up to his chin to rub the growing stubble, exaggerating his thinking. “Is it… a Bantha?” The kids giggle and shake their heads. “No? Hm. Then… is it… ah! I know—Pegasus?”

“Yes!”

You fight back a smile, pressing your lips together as the twins begin to tell him the story of Pegasus, not telling it correctly, but Obi Wan is enraptured by their animated story telling nonetheless.

“We have to tell him,” Anakin whispers, breaking the silence, and while he doesn’t reference who has to know and what they have to know, you know exactly what he’s insinuating and you don’t agree.

“No.”

He exasperates your name, hands falling to his side as he fully turns to you. “He deserves—“

“I said no, Anakin,” you spit, breath coming out harshly. His blue eyes widen and they flash with hurt. You close your eyes, steadying your breath and calming your racing heart—cursing yourself. “He doesn’t need to know,” you repeat, softer this time. “He’s not going to stay long enough for it and even if he were, he’ll want nothing to do with it.”

“You do know best.” Anakin’s eyes have always been much more expressive than yours or Padmé’s or even Obi Wan’s—always giving away how he truly feels even though his mouth and the words that come out of it say otherwise.

“That’s—Anakin. That’s not fair. Remember last time we tried telling him when—“

“Satine had just passed away,” Anakin iterates, eyes softening when your eyes begin to well up—you swallow harshly. “It was still so fresh in his mind that he couldn’t think of honoring—“ He sighs, stopping himself from saying Qui Gon’s name. “Maybe now will be different.”

His eyes, as soft as they are, challenge you, refusing to crumble under your glare, they’re asking you to give in, to please, tell him. You shouldn’t give in, for your sake and Obi Wan’s, but the longer he looks at you with those eyes of his, you let out a reluctant sigh. “Okay.” You move away from the kitchen’s island and head towards the archway leading to the living room. “But you tell him. I have to get going.”

“I can do that.” You look back at him and find him smiling at you, thankful and relieved. You return it, albeit weakly, but he appreciates the effort. “We’ll talk about preparations another day, okay?”

You’ll probably have to talk about more than preparations later, but you don’t tell him that; instead, you nod and exit the kitchen.

Padmé, noticing your return, turns to you and studies you carefully. “Everything okay?”

Obi Wan also turns to look at you—the children’s current story falling on deaf ears—but you keep your gaze on Padmé.

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” you assure her, “but I have to head out.”

The twins hear that and immediately a chorus of “aww” and “why, Auntie?”, “can’t you stay?”, “sleepover!” begin to take over—their words wrestling over one another to be heard and you laugh, crouching down and opening your arms wide for them to run into. They do without hesitation, practically climbing over Obi Wan and Padmé to do so.

“I’m sorry, my little stars, I have to get up early for work tomorrow.” Pulling away from their little arms, you hold your pinkies out for them. “Next time I come over, we’ll have a movie night. Deal?”

“Deal!” They readily agree, hooking their pinkies with yours.

“And you’ll bring Uncle Din and Baby?” Luke whispers, low enough for only you and Leia to hear.

“Promise,” you whisper back.

Shaking their pinkies one last time, you stand up and begin your goodbyes, hugging Padmé tightly.

“Call me when you get home safely, okay?” she says, warmth in her words.

“I will.” You linger in her arms longer than necessary, your heart beating in your chest harshly and rapidly, hesitant and afraid of saying goodbye to Obi Wan. But you finally pull away, you can’t be rude and leave him hanging.

“May I… walk you to your car?” Obi Wan asks you, blue eyes wavering ever so slight my when you meet his gaze head on.

A part of you wants to say no, but an even bigger part of you—the part that completely and utterly missed him—convinces you to agree. “I’d appreciate it.”

Anakin’s eyebrows furrow as he hands you your jacket and purse, and you smile at him, telling him it’s all right. It’s really not, you’d rather be able to breath for a moment and then think about Obi Wan later, but it’s too late now.

Obi Wan says something to the family of four as you slip on your jacket—“I’ll be back,” you assume. He grabs his own jacket from the coat rack and zips himself up, following after you as you walk out into the evening’s cold air.

“Did you park very far?” he asks you and you shake your head, walking down the stone path Anakin and Padmé installed earlier this year.

“Just down there.”

“Oh.”

“Yes.”

It’s a quiet walk, not an uncomfortable one, but you can’t say it’s comfortable either—it just is? Like many things just are. Will it always be like this now?

You hope not, because this quietness is not you and Obi Wan.

“This is it.” You step to the side of the driver, pressing the unlock button once and open the door. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, my dear.” Obi Wan moves to close the door for you, but you don’t move to sit and he just stands there in front of you, holding your door. “I wish you a Goodnight and—and I’m glad I got to see you.”

Goodbye, Obi Wan. The words catch in your throat, your mouth parted, waiting for the words to escape, but you can’t bring yourself to say goodbye—what if this is the last time I see you, again?

“Darling?”

Your eyes find his even in the low lighting of the street—blue eyes shining brighter than the celestial sea. There are permanent lines around his eyes now—little crow feet that weren’t there last time he stood in front of you—and you reach for them with shaky hands and he closes his eyes when your thumb runs over them—gentle and tender, caressing.

He delicately hold your wrists, his thumbs running over your pulse, soothing and all too caring—thump. thUMP. THUmp. steady. familiar. alive.

It’s too much. It’s too much that you can’t help the welling of tears or the way your throat croaks when you call his name.

Blue eyes re-emerge, red rimmed and devastating and it takes you only a second—a second of bright stars and flashing satellites, and airplanes landing—for you to collide against each other—faces hiding in hair and shoulder—wet words murmured over each other and tangling in vines so deep like the flowers that once grew on a beautiful white fence—hands wrapped tightly around each other.

“I’m so sorry, darling. I’m so sorry.” “I’ve missed you, I’ve missed you so much.” “Please don’t let go.” “I will never let you go. Never again.”

You stare up at the house, well kept and pristine. The roses, however, are dying, their season soon to be over. But even in their last moments, they cling to their own beauty just for a little while longer.

“Resilient little things,” Qui Gon used to say. “Just like the heart. We tend to forget it’s a delicate thing, prone to hurting and breaking—even wilting, but much stronger than we give it credit.”

With the lingering warmth of Obi Wan’s arms and words encasing you, you turn back around and get in your car, driving away from the place that has been your home for the last few years.

Hopefully, Din will take you in for the night.

#obi wan x reader #obi wan kenobi x reader #obi wan kenobi x y/n #Obi-wan Kenobi x reader #Obi-wan x reader #obi wan kenobi imagine #reader insert

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turning-dreams-into-chaos · 4 years ago

Text

Sunrise

(Peter Parker x Reader)

MASTER

Word Count: 2K

A/N: I hope this works because I posted once and it didn’t. Also hope this shows up in tags and doesn’t flop. Oh god, fingers crossed.

Peter had been on patrol since the moment he got home. The sun was starting to set now off in the horizon as he climbed back into his window, ripping his mask from his face and let his suit fall to the floor.

“I’m back!” he shouted to his aunt as he pulled some sweats on, throwing a shirt on moments before May opened the door.

“How was patrol?” She asked, raising her eyebrows. “Catch any bad guys?”

Peter rolled his eyes at his aunts’ questions before telling her a little about his day on patrol. When the oven dinged, meaning the pasta May was making was done, she finally left Peter alone. He was quick to pull out his phone and scroll through his contacts until the one he was looking for finally showed up. It rang a couple times before sending Peter to voicemail.

“Hey Y/N.” He sighed happily into the call, falling onto his bed with a groan before fixing himself. “I just got back from patrol. Well, I got back a while ago but you know May.” He laughed to himself. “She asks almost as many questions as you sometimes.” There was a smile on his face as he remembered one time, he came home to find a whole storm of messages from you asking all about his nights as Spiderman. God, he loved those nights texting you. May shouted his name for dinner and he sighed disappointingly. “I guess I have to go. May made your favorite pasta by the way.” He pulled the phone away from his ear before his eyes widen and he spoke again. “I’ll come by tonight! To see you. Yeah… yeah, I’ll come by.” May called his name again and Peter swallowed, finally ending the call and bouncing on his feet out to eat.

If someone asked May how many times her nephew looked down at the screen of his phone to see the picture of you and him at homecoming, she wouldn’t be able to say. Or how many times he stopped in the middle of his sentence to shoot you a text about whatever. She had no idea. Peter kept doing so, but his phone never buzzed with a response. It didn’t matter however because as soon as dinner was over Peter was back again to calling you.

“Hey! It’s Y/N! Sorry I couldn’t answer, leave a message and I’ll call you back!”

“Hey Y/N!” Peter breathed into his phone at the sound of your voice. He quickly grabbed his suit, slipping it on before throwing a pair of sweats and a T-shirt into a bag and switching the call through Karen and his suit. He climbed out his window, being sure to keep it unlatched for his return. “I’m on my way! See you soon.” Leaving his apartment, he flipped through the air, the call now ended as Peter made his way to you as fast as he could.

His feet hit the dirt on the ground with a soft almost silent thud as Peter pushed the gates open in front of him, hearing them clang closed behind him when he kept walking. He checked to be sure he was alone before pulling off his mask. The cool air brushed against his skin as he took a shaky breath, no longer feeling as excited he was when he passed the gates. He tugged his backpack off his shoulder and he kept walking the familiar path, putting out his clothes on as he finally reaching his destination.

He cleared his throat, letting his bag hit the floor as he stared at the gravestone in front of him. “Hey Y/N.” He whispered before sitting down on the grass in front of the slab. He didn’t say anything more, bringing his fingers up to delicately trace your name and suit symbol. “I miss you.” His voice cracked against Peter’s will as he sucked in a breath, looking up into the darkening sky as he blinked away the tears he refused to let fall.

6 months since you died.

6 months since you died and Peter came here every day to talk to you. He needed to. He needed you. He kept struggling not to cry, to try and smile and remember you, but it hurt. Every time he called your number, hearing your voice made him so happy but he wished he spent longer listening to your voice, hearing the soft sound coming from your lips. The same lips he wished he kissed more.

A hand touched his shoulder gently as he jumped slightly, barely looking behind to see the Iron Man suit. He didn’t say anything, his eyes red and watery as the suit retracted and a distraught Tony Stark stepped out, his hand still comforting Peter. “I figured you’d be here.”

“Aren’t I always?” Peter let out a fake laugh as he stifled, looking away from his mentor to keep from falling apart. Tony wore a frown as he looked between Peter and your grave. He couldn’t believe it had been 6 months since you passed either. You, who always wore a smile, made sure Tony never worked himself too hard, who didn’t deserve the ending she got.

“How many times have you called her today?” Tony groaned as he took a seat next to Peter, quickly noting how the young man refused to look at him.

“I don’t know,” Peter whispered, his voice lacking any emotion as Tony sighed. “Lost count after lunch.”

Tony nodded, the silence of night filling his ears as he looked at Peter out of the corner of his eyes. “What are you planning on doin’ when you call that number and someone else picks up?”

Peter's eyes widened and for once since Tony joined him, Peter looked into his equally as broken eyes. “I- Mr. Stark, I-“

“It’s okay, kid.” He cut off Peters stuttering with a raised arm, turning back to look at the ground in front of them as Peter did the same. “I won’t let that happen.”

Peter nodded hurriedly, wanting his worries to settle down but they didn’t. Tony and he stayed side by side into the late hours of the day, not saying anything as Peter let his mind wander. It never strayed from you. You meeting May, your first date, sneaking around the tower before hiding away in your room, your touch- god he missed your touch. He missed holding your hand and feeling your thumb always brushing his skin when you zoned out. Or the way you would play with his hair when you cuddled on the couch, pulling gently at his curls as Peter fell asleep on you.

That’s when the guilt ate at him tonight much like it did any other night he visited here.

“I was supposed to protect her,” Peter whispered as Tony raised a brow at him, giving him a side glance as Peter clenched his jaw and tightened his fists. “I should’ve protected her, why couldn’t I-“

“It wasn’t your job to protect her. She was an avenger.” Tony stopped him, knowing he was about to have a breakdown but Peter was too far.

Tears started down the boys’ face before he could realize it. “She was my girlfriend. I loved her! I was supposed to protect her from everything and now she’s dead!” Tony let him yell, the slight shake of words at the end of Peter’s outburst letting him know that Peter was controlling himself again. Peter closed his eyes as he took a breath, slowly letting his fist relax as he deflated in his spot. “I’m sorry.” He breathed out before clearing his throat. “I’m sorry, I just really miss her.”

“I do too. She was my kid.” Even though Tony wasn’t related to you, Peter knew what he meant. You were family. The Avengers, that team was your family. Peter sometimes forgot he wasn’t the only one who lost you. Tony’s own tears started to fall and Peter looked away, giving Tony a sense of privacy to cry. “She was just a kid.”

“Yeah. She did what she had to though. She was a hero.” Peter’s voice was so quiet he wasn’t sure Tony heard.

The duo fell into silence again as time passed, owls hooting every so often bringing them away from their thoughts. Tony breathed out heavily before pushing himself up from the ground, glancing at the top of Peter’s head since Peter hadn’t moved one bit. “Don’t stay out here too long, Pete. Go home. She’ll still be here tomorrow.” Peter bit his tongue as another tear rolled down his face, but he didn’t wipe it away as Tony took off behind him and Peter heard his thrusters before Peter was alone with you again.

He didn’t know what time it was, but he didn’t care. He just wanted to be here with you. He pulled out his phone, the picture of the two of you lighting him up in the dark as he let out a breathy laugh before opening his contacts and clicking on your name.

“Hey! It’s Y/N! Sorry I couldn’t answer, leave a message and I’ll call you back!”

“Do you remember homecoming?” Peter blurted out the moment the voicemail started. “You looked so beautiful I couldn’t believe I was dating you. I know the dance didn’t turn out the best for either of us, but the rest of the night wasn’t the worst. I think it was the best night of my life.” He smiled fondly, remembering how good it felt to hug you after everything with Liz’s dad. He couldn’t believe his friend’s dad was his nemesis. You both went back to the tower and up to the roof where no one would disturb you. “You were always good at patching me up.” He choked out, trying not to get emotional. “Your dress was torn but you didn’t care because you wanted to be there for me. You were always there for me.” He wished he’d have been there for you. “I remember- I remember looking at the stars-“

The phone’s voicemail cut him off as Peter sighed, and hung up but quickly called back.

“Hey! It’s Y/N! Sorry I couldn’t answer, leave a message and I’ll call you back!”

“I remember looking at the stars,” He begun again after the second of hearing your voice. “laying on the ground with you in my arms and you pointed out all the constellations. God, the smile on your face. I should’ve taken a picture.” Peter took a second to imagine your smile, the way your eyes crinkled and the huff of a laugh you’d always let through. “We stayed like that until morning, until the sunrise.” He licked his lips and breathed. “You always loved the sunrise.” Peter’s voice cracked and he couldn’t take it he brought a hand up, burying his face in it as he rubbed away the tears falling quickly. He was in silence again, hanging up the phone once the voicemail ended. He wished he could hold your hand, but instead he put his hand against the grass, feeling the dirt underneath clinging to his hand as he sighed. “I really need you Y/N, I don’t want to do this without you.”

Peter sat there in the cold night of Queens for hours, his eyes now dried with tears and his throat hurt from crying, all his energy seemingly drained. He was beginning to doze off but refused to go home, he didn’t want to leave you. The sky started to get lighter as Peter glanced out to the horizon.

“Look Y/N.” He whispered out, his heartbroken frown slowly turning to a smile as the early morning light brought the nature around him to life, the dark orange glow bringing him warmth as he let his eyes move back to your grave, finally able to see your name and suit symbol once again in the light. “Sunrise.”

Tags are open! Please send an ask if you want to be added a Taglist! Sorry if I forgot someone, my tags are a little messy.

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#Peter Parker x Reader #Peter Parker Imagine #Peter Parker fanfiction #Peter Parker #tony stark x platonic!reader #Tony Stark #Avengers #Avengers x Reader #Avengers imagine #avengers fanfiction #Marvel x Reader #Marvel imagine #Marvel fanfiction #Marvel #Sunrise

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demetriandelibinaryboyfriends · 4 years ago

Note

Thanks for replying! Could you possibly link the rp blog? I love your headcanons! What do the Cobras and Miyagi-Dos think of them? I like to think one of the characters in canon came up with their ship name, who do you think it was?- Cherry

But of course, Cherry!!! Those headcanons were so fun to write :D It’s honestly one of my favorite headcanon/ask posts that I’ve done, I think. I love thinking about how Johnny would react to Hawk and Demetri dating XD And writing that paragraph about how I think Demetri and Eli met was honestly the most fun ride haha

@sipping--snowflakes runs a Demetri RPG blog I think, it’s @binarybrother1! Idk if it’s still active, you’ll have to hit them up about that. I also think @hawkxatxheart RPs as Hawk and ships the binary boyfriends, if you want to hit them up too!

Aight screw it, Imma do the most complete analysis I can XD

Miguel ships it SO hard XD Like Miguel is a very smart and intuitive person who seems pretty good at picking up on emotions and such (he was able to almost instantly call bullshit on Kreese’s war stories, IIRC), so I’m almost certain that he picked up that there were Some Kinda Vibes going on with those two from day fucking one. But obviously he doesn’t wanna outright say anything, especially not at a school where kids will get bullied for literally ANYTHING and something like kids being gay for each other could legit put a target on both their backs if it got out. So he lets these boys figure shit out on their own time but is also like “...yeah, they’ll realize it eventually, I’m sure.” XD And you dun best believe he just went “ohhhhh my godddddd” when they fell out and developed a super intense rivalry because he’s like guys??? Do you NOT realize being that obsessed with fucking with each other...kinda means you’re obsessed WITH each other??? Even though you both have other friends now??? Doesn’t seem like normal best friend behavior :/ But of course our boy doesn’t want to interfere unless it gets really bad--and he’s got his own issues to deal with, anyhow. I imagine after the dojos join and Demetri and Eli start dating after a while, Miguel is just like “FUCKING FINALLY!!! Sam pay up, you owe me 20 bucks!!!” He’s so happy they finally dragged their heads out of their asses and realized they loved each other, because man, you can bet your ass Miguel knew they did from the get-go.

Sam I think I’ve touched on a fair bit in my other posts so I won’t get into a whole big long thing, but she’s...certainly leery of them dating at first, mainly because she remembers Demetri’s issues with Eli are what pushed him to join Miyagi-Do in the first place, and she witnessed him breaking Dem’s arm so she’s pretty...not crazy about Eli XD But Miguel and Demetri both vouch for Eli a LOT, and reassure Sam over and over that he’s a good guy at heart and just let Kreese get in his head and fell victim to his brainwashing for a while. Sam comes around to the idea after a while, and she can see how happy he makes Demetri and ultimately trusts Demetri to be smart enough to not date someone who’s going to treat him badly. Then eventually she and Eli bond over what a fuck Kyler is (he bullied Sam too, don’t forget!!! And they DATED, so the thing he did with the blowjob rumors was a HUGE violation of the pretty intimate trust you have with a partner) and after that she is VERY on board with him and Demetri dating XD

Chris is...Not A Fan, to put it lightly XD Like he saw firsthand how much of a fuck Hawk was to him and Mitch when they first joined Cobra Kai and how he basically hazed them both for funsies because he let the tournament win get to his head. And hell, HE was one of the ones who got sicced on Demetri in the mall and tried to get Hawk to back down, and SAW that he wouldn’t. And when Hawk was about to go after Demetri at Moon’s party, Chris was the first Miyagi-Do to step in and protect him. And, of course, he saw Hawk break Demetri’s arm, too. So he’s no stranger to the antagonism Hawk has always had for Demetri in particular, and doesn’t trust that it’s completely gone. However, Chris is a pretty down-to-earth and reasonable dude, so with a LOT of vouching from Demetri, I can see him coming around eventually. Also if he was willing to give Mitch a second chance, ain’t no reason he can’t do the same for Hawk. And Mitch would probably vouch for Hawk too, after he and Chris became friends again--after all, Mitch DID end up becoming pretty good friends with Hawk after all the hazing stuff. So ultimately Chris ends up being at least civil with Hawk, but he sometimes glares at him when no one’s looking like “I’ve got my eye on you, you’d better not hurt my bro or there’s gonna be hell to pay”

Mitch is fairly indifferent, I think, although he DOES find the irony of Hawk now being head-over-heels smitten with the same dude he sent him to beat up in the mall and the same dude who told everyone Hawk wets the bed to be IMMENSELY hilarious. He loves to tease Hawk about it, like “Man, what would you have done a year ago if you’d known you’re now regularly making out with that shrimpy little nerd???” and Hawk is like “oh my god shut UP” but then he turns away and smirks because the joke is on Mitch--he TOTALLY still liked Demetri through All That Mess Last Year, he just...had a very poor way of processing it XD

I imagine Bert kinda looks up to Hawk as an older brother figure (there’s a snippet I’ve seen some gifs of of Hawk teaching him how to block and it’s actually really cute--huge Big Bro/Little Bro Energy) and probably also admires Demetri quite a bit for trying to protect him and Nate during the Christmas party fight, so he’s definitely on board!!! His two honorary big brothers dating--he’s thrilled!!! Nate not so much, since you dun best believe he still remembers Hawk and his goons “kicking the fucking shit out of him” XD Nonetheless, Nate probably also has a soft spot for Demetri for trying to protect him, so with lots of vouching from Demetri (and Bert too, once he and Nate are friends again), he eventually comes around to the idea of Hawk and Demetri dating.

ON TO THE SECOND QUESTION, FINALLY!

I actually think Aisha is the one who comes up with their ship name!!! XD Allow me to elaborate--so at some point Aisha comes back (because fuck it, I miss her), either to join the new merged dojo or just to visit, because ain’t no one telling me she didn’t keep in touch with at least SAM and visit occasionally if she was still in the city or general area. So she walks into the dojo to go see Sam and her other friends and start catching up with everyone, and--oh, Sam and Miguel are in the same weird, combined karate dojo now that isn’t Miyagi-Do OR Cobra Kai??? Super wack, but okay. Then she sees Demetri and Hawk holding hands and her eyes get really wide and she’s like “Wait, you two are DATING now??? That’s...kind of gross :/”

And Demetri and Hawk just freeze up for a hot sec because is Aisha of all people about to be judgmental??? But then she immediately follows up with “Well, aren’t you the binary brothers? I don’t know if I can get behind incest, guys.” And Hawk just breaks out snickering and is like “Shit, man, she’s right. We should probably update that.” And Demetri’s like “NO WAIT I GOT THIS” and then he just goes “dEmEtRi aNd eLi, BiNaRy BoYfRiEnDs” complete with the super cringey robot arm and Eli is like “Oh my GOD I am GOING to kill you” as the entire dojo proceeds to Lose Their Shit.

Also you dun best believe that literally every picture Aisha takes with Hawk and Demetri after they all start hanging out again (because I WANT THEM TO, FIGHT ME) is captioned things like “Chillin’ with the binary boyfriends!” “Eating tacos with the binary boyfriends!” “Doing karate with the binary boyfriends!” and before too long she refuses to refer to Demetri and Eli as anything else XD

Also yes I know Moon was also there during the Binary Brothers scene but she most likely wouldn’t be cheeky and tease them about it later. Aisha absolutely WOULD.

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speechlessxx · 5 years ago

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All I Have Left (Steve Rogers x Reader)

Summary: In which you struggle to cope two years after the snap.

Warnings: Post-Infinity War/Snap, this wasn’t the original idea I was going for but I changed it on a whim oops, mentions of depression & survivor’s guilt, Prosopagnosia (face blindness)

No idea why I wrote this wtf.

Word Count: 1.5k

No one could’ve imagined Thanos being this unstoppable.

His gauntlet glowed with the power of the five Infinity Stones. Your mission was to stop him from getting to Vision – from taking the final stone and destroying life as you know it.

But one by one, your friends were defeated. You were thrown out of his way, landing into the dirt with a thud – your head smacking against a rock, rendering you unconscious. Steve had been able to catch his gloved hand only to meet the Titan’s free fist. Wanda had been successful at destroying the Mind Stone and her lover with it, but with the Time Stone, Thanos was able to bring Vision back and steal the stone, ripping it from the android’s skull.

When hope was lost, it was Thor who came out the skies, lodging his axe into Thanos’s chest. He taunted Thanos, who took the life of his brother just when they were finally getting along. But in Thor’s blind vengeance, he didn’t account for Thanos to say, “you should’ve gone for the head,” and snap.

Your friends started to disappear. Bucky, T’Challa, Groot, Wanda, then Sam along with half the universe. They all disintegrated and left dust in their wake.

In your blurry haze due to the head injury, you stood up on wobbly legs. “Steve?” You called out for your husband. Your vision was unfocused. “Steve!”

He was in front of you immediately. Your hands grasped his tightly, afraid he’d disappear, too. His hold on you was just as tight with the same fear. “I’m here,” Steve muttered. “I’m here.” The both of you crashed down to the floor next to Vision’s colorless, lifeless body. “Oh, god.”

That was two years ago and you hated to admit, but life moved on.

You initially planned to stick by Natasha’s side. She had opted to stay at the compound and be the head of operations for the heroes that stationed themselves in various areas of the galaxy. But you couldn’t do it. You didn’t think you deserved to be on the Avengers – or what was left of it – after losing a battle that killed trillions.

So, you and Steve opted for the quiet life in the city. He led a support group while you volunteered your time in foodbanks and shelters. You were both lucky to still have each other. You had the luxury of coming home to someone who loved you.

But you were plagued by the memories. In your dreams, you could still hear Wanda’s laugh or Sam and Bucky bicker. However, because of the traumatic head injury you endured while fighting Thanos, you couldn’t picture their faces. You couldn’t remember what they looked like.

-=+=-

In the shelter you volunteered in, a new face appeared. A young boy was brought in. He must’ve been 4 or 5. Any time a volunteer came up to talk to him, his arm would tighten around the teddy bear in his hands and refuse to talk. One of the volunteers, Melissa, came up to you and asked for your help.

“Hi there, pal,” you smiled at him as you crouched down to his height. “What’s your name?” He didn’t respond. He refused to return your gaze, keeping his eyes on his feet as he picked at the fur of his teddy. “My name is (Y/N) Rogers.”

“Like Steve Rogers?” He muttered. “Like… Captain America?”

“Yeah,” you nodded.

“Are you related?” He frowned, still looking at his shoes.

“Oh, no… he’s my husband,” you laughed a little and flashed the ring on your finger.

“Wow!” He said, finally looking at you. His voice rose an octave in excitement. “I love Captain America! He’s my favorite Avenger!”

“Really? He’s mine, too!” You beamed. “What’s this guy’s name?” You asked, gesturing to the bear in his hands.

“His name is Bucky like Captain America’s best friend… he’s my best friend, too.” Your chest tightened at his name. The blurry faced image of your husband’s best friend raced through your mind. The only thing you could clearly make out was the titanium arm.

“What’s your name, then, buddy?” You managed to say.

“Daniel.” He said. “Named after my dad.”

“That’s a lovely name, Daniel… Where’s your daddy, now?” The excitement in his eyes slowly faded with his smile as your face fell in realization. “Oh…” You whispered with a frown and slowly nodded, regretting that you asked. Tears pricked in your eyes, but you couldn’t cry. Not in front of the child who lost his father. “Well, sweetheart, let’s get some food in ya.”

-=+=-

When Steve came home that night, he found you in the living room with various photo albums scattered around you. He bit his lip as he approached you, knowing exactly what you were doing.

“Hon?” he said, softly, taking a seat on the floor with you. The heavy aroma of his cologne filled the room the closer he got to you and you looked up at him, recognizing the scent, knowing it was Steve, the one face you recognized the most.

“I hate this,” you whimpered. You were helpless as you stared at the photos.

“It’s not your fault,” Steve said.

“That’s you,” you pointed. “Tony. Nat. Rhodey. Pepper.” You stopped. Steve tilted his head to look at the face you were desperately trying to remember.

“Sam.” He answered for you.

“I can’t even remember my friends.” You frowned, closing the album and tossing it aside.

“It’s not your fault.” He repeated. He looked over your face. There was a faint scar from your injury two years ago. It had healed, but you didn’t. “Hon…”

“Why did we survive?” You frowned. “Why did this bastard think the world would allow their loved ones to disappear?” Your face contorted to show your disgust – your hatred – for the titan you could no longer picture.

“We’re still standing.” Steve muttered. “We owe it to those we lost to keep living – to move on.”

“I’m not one of the people in your support group, Steve.” You snapped. “I know better than anyone else that you don’t believe the words you preach.” He took a deep breath and decided to remain silent. You were angry. You were hurt. You were lashing out. He knew you weren’t angry at him. You were angry at the situation. It was understandable. “I met a boy who lost his father today and I swear… I swear if I could take my life just to bring back someone’s parent, I would… I really would.”

“Don’t say that.”

“It’s the truth.”

“This happened for a reason.”

You scoffed. “You don’t believe that, do you?” He just stared at you. “So, you don’t think about our friends who died? So, you don’t wake up in the middle night because you dreamt of when Bucky got dusted right in front of you?”

No… Steve thought. I dream that it’s my wife that disappears and that terrifies me.

“I meant that … I meant that there’s a reason that we both didn’t get dusted – like how Tony and Pepper didn’t disappear, either.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that kids in the world – and throughout the universe – lost their parents. People lost the love of their life… And those who are left behind remember who they lost. I can’t. I can’t remember if what Wanda looked like. I can’t remember what Sam’s smile looks like or if Bucky had blue or green, or were they mixed. So, yeah, if I could, die to bring back one person to bring comfort for someone who needs it.”

“Then what about me?” Steve asked. His tone dropped as he became frustrated. “I’m nobody, right? Just your husband of five years. It’s not like I get comfort from waking up next to my wife. Not like I’m not comforted from the idea that I was lucky enough to have her wake up next to me.”

You sighed. He was right. You were lucky. You both were.

“I can’t bring back the memories. I can’t bring back the faces. I’m sorry. If I could, I’d share my brain with you so that you could remember, but I can’t and I’m sorry.” Steve voice broke. He put up a good front in front of the men and women in his group – in front of Natasha who was barely hanging onto hope. But he was just as broken and helpless, too. “But please don’t say that you’d happily die and leave me to help someone else. I’m sorry if that’s selfish, but I can’t lose you. I love you too much.”

“I’m sorry for saying that,” you whispered. You shuffled over and laid yourself on his lap. His arms wrapped around your waist. “I shouldn’t have said it. I’m sorry.”

Steve buried his face into your hair, pulling you closer to him as if he were afraid that a second wave would hit and you’d disappear in seconds. “I can’t lose you, too, (Y/N). You’re all I have left.”

#Steve Rogers x reader #steve rogers #steve rogers imagine #chris evans x reader #chris evans #chris evans imagine #captain america x reader #captain america #captain america imagine #angst #fluff #infinity war imagine #i watched infinity war and i got sad so here

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crystalrose555 · 4 years ago

Text

Slap me, I dare you! pt. 2

“I’m gonna kill him. I’m gonna kill him nice and slow.” Marley calmly claimed as she continued to aggressively tap her foot.

“Mochi, stay still, I’m still putting pins in.” Asmo pouted in response while straightening out the cloth on Marley’s body.

Despite Asmo’s pleas, Marley continued to fume upon thinking of Lucifer and his snare. One moment she was folding laundry, the next she was standing in Asmo’s room for a fitting. Asmo hummed cheerfully as he pulled fabric and tucked in more pins. After a few moments, he finally finished as the frustrated sealskin wiggled out of the finished outfit.

“Alright, that one’s finished, time for the next one, Mochi~” Asmo chimed as he set aside the pinned-up clothing for tailoring.

The fifth born turned back to the annoyed Marley who crossed her arms in anger as her foot continued to tap rapidly against the floor. Asmodeus, taken by surprise, held his hand to his mouth to keep his fawning under control.

“What?” Marley asked in a pissed fashion.

“I didn’t realize you wear bloomers. I haven’t seen those in centuries~”

“Yeah, so what?” Marley asked as she pulled down her under blouse.

Asmo didn’t answer as he pulled Marley close into a tight embrace. Nuzzling his cheek against hers tenderly, Asmo sighed happily while Marley snorted sharply, trying to free her arms from his grasp.

“What’s with you, Asmo?!” Marley growled as her eyes squinted at the demon.

“I’m just so happy, Mochi...” Asmodeus quietly cooed.

Marley looked at the clinging demon and sighed tiredly. Instead of pushing him away, she held him close and rubbed his back gently.

“Since when did you all get so attached to me?” She asked fondly.

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

“Levi, will you stop your pacing, you’re going to wear out the marble.” Satan scolded.

Sadly, his plea fell on deaf ears as Levi continued while swiping away on his phone. He was too enthralled with the message boards and Devilgram, looking for any instance of mentions of Marley since her arrival. She may have been brought back by Lucifer but there always was someone who knew something they shouldn’t in Devildom.

“Alright, Lucifer, she’s all ready for her first day back to RAD!” Asmo chimed while leading Marley by the hand.

Marley stood in front of the brothers with her arms crossed and a tired expression on her face. Everyone stared at her clothing which barely resembled the school uniform.

“Asmo, you were supposed to make sure her uniform blended in, not stand out.” Satan claimed with a heavy sigh.

“I know but how could I not go all out~”

“Geez, how can you mess this up? Marley isn’t your dress-up doll, Asmo.” Levi grumbled lowly.

“That’s rich coming from someone who plays with dolls.” Asmo answered flatly.

Levi gasped harshly.

“How dare you, you know that they’re figurines!”

“Naw, if they were, you shouldn’t be able to take the underwear off.” Mammon blurted off snickering.

Marley sighed as the conversation seemed to swell in volume. She took a look around for a moment before addressing the brothers with a question.

“Where’s Beel?”

“Oh, he went to RAD early with-”

Before he could finish, Mammon cut Asmo’s answer with a sharp elbow in the side. They all went silent as they stared at the annoyed woman who raised an eyebrow.

“What?” She asked sharply.

The brothers just stumbled with their words, filling the foyer with random thoughts and observations until their eldest brought attention to himself.

“Enough all of you, it doesn’t matter what she’s wearing since she’s going to RAD as a seal.” Lucifer informed as he redirected the conversation.

Marley squinted her eyes in annoyance at the eldest demon brother.

“Seriously!? What the hell?!” Marley protested harshly which caused Lucifer to shake his head.

“No arguing, this isn’t up for debate. Now change.”

“Why should I!?”

“Because your Devilgram stunt has caused an uproar and unless you want to deal with the aftermath, get changed. Now.”

“Couldn’t be that bad.” Marley mumbled while looking away.

“What was that, I couldn’t hear you.”

Marley growled underneath her breath as she pulled out her pelt from her uniform. The brothers’ eyes grew wide as they stared at the black and white sealskin she draped over her shoulders.

“Marley, wasn’t your pelt grey with rings on it?” Levi pointed out.

“It was, now it’s black and white.” Marley answered flatly with a snort.

“But how? Why?”

Marley just ignored the questioning and wrapped herself in the fur.

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

“Mochi, stop growling, we’re in the library.” Satan whispered as he turned a page in his book.

Mochi just flopped on her side and huffed heavily. Since she arrived at RAD, she had been sliding around on her belly with a multitude of demons poking and prodding her. Normally, she wouldn’t care but it didn’t help when they started asking if she was different from the seal before. Sure her pelt was a different color but she still was herself or that’s what she would tell herself. She lifted her head, looked back at her black glossy coat, and sighed as she slid from underneath the table. Satan looked up from his book to see her shuffling toward the library’s entrance. In a smooth motion, he rose from his seat and stood in front of Mochi with a curious expression.

“Marley, where are you going?” Satan whispered to her as he crouched down to her level.

She snorted in response before patting her side in a particular rhythm that echoed along the library’s walls. Seeing other students peering from the aisles of books, Satan attempted to shush the noisy seal only for her slapping to increase in tempo. With a sigh, he motioned for her to follow him to a private study room where she could change in private.

“Alright, what’s the problem, Marley?” Satan asked as he locked the door.

“I just want to go for a walk by myself, Satan. On my own two feet instead of sliding on my belly.”

“Sorry but it’s for your good unless you want to be bombarded by demons.”

Marley snorted as she folded her arms in protest.

“Please, what’s the worst that can happen? I end up dying again?”

“...So you were dying back then.”

Marley snapped back to the blonde demon who turned his gaze away from her. She bit her bottom lip and cursed herself since she forgot that she was more or less lying about her condition. A swirl of guilt formed in the lower part of her gut as looked at Satan with remorseful eyes.

“Hey, don’t think too much about it. It’s done and over with.” She claimed jokingly as if to quell his suspicion.

“It’s not done, Marley. You left so suddenly and we didn’t get a chance to talk to you about...well...”

Marley paused for a moment and released a tired sigh before patting Satan on his arm.

“Hey, baby steps, no point in worrying about something I don’t want to talk about yet. All you need to know is that I’m alright now.” She claimed cheerfully.

Satan blinked before giving her an understanding smile. He gently placed his hand over hers and let their eyes meet.

“Thank you Marley. But you still can’t go wandering off.”

“...You’re killing me, Blondie.”

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

Luke sighed as he made his way through the hall, dodging rushing demons who carelessly lost track of the time. He wondered what was getting everyone so riled up when school started. For the past month, everyone around him has been acting weird from some Devilgram post. He searched for it but he couldn’t find any trace of it after the app crashed. After which he asked Solomon about the picture that everyone else saw but he refused to tell him regardless if Simeon was there or not. And all that Simeon told him was that Marley was alright and she was taking some time off to go back home.

“It’s not fair...” He pouted to himself.

He was the last one to know about Marley and he didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye. Shaking his head free of distracting thoughts, he hurried down the hall to meet up with Simeon for their next class. However, in his rush, he tripped over a sudden black figure which kept him hitting the hard floor. He groaned before taking a look at the seal he fell upon.

“S-Sorry!” He apologized as he pushed himself off the warm creature.

On his knees, Luke took a moment to think before addressing the seal.

“You’re Mochi, right? The same Mochi from before?” He asked hopefully.

He received his answer as Mochi picked up his fallen hat with her mouth and gave a sweet whistle at the young angel. Luke’s eyes grew wide as he found himself hugging the seal tightly in an expression of his joy.

“Mochi, it is you! You’re all better now!” He squealed as Mochi sighed and placed a flipper on the angel’s back while putting his hat back on his head.

“That’s the same seal from before. See, I told you guys!”

Luke jumped a bit as he looked up to see a trio of demons looking down at him and Mochi. He pulled himself up to his feet as Mochi sighed and snorted in response. However, the demons continued to stare at the unimpressed animal and talk as if the little angel wasn’t present.

“Look at it, it’s the same as the one that woman had on Devilgram.” One pointed out.

“Yeah, my girlfriend’s been beggin’ me for a fur-like that since Lord Diavolo posted that pic.” The second claimed as he inched closer.

“Oi, you already have a girl, so I get first dibs! I’m gonna get a lot of likes with this thing’s coat.” The third protested as he approached the unamused seal.

Luke, without thinking, stepped between Mochi and the advancing demon who towered over him.

“Buzz off, kid. You’re in the way.” The demonic student sneered.

“I’m not gonna let you take her fur! So leave her alone!” Luke yelped out while standing his ground.

“Listen, kid, it’s obvious that thing is just here as a joke since its fur is a stupid Devilgram fad.”

“If it’s so dumb, why do you want!?” Luke retorted.

“I ain’t gonna explain myself to a brat, especially an angel brat, now move!”

In a flash, the frustrated demon grabbed Luke roughly by his shirt and tossed him aside on the ground with a hard thud.

“Dude, what are you doin’? That kid’s an exchange student!”

“Shut up, he ain’t hurt, if he can’t handle getting knocked over, then he shouldn’t be messin’ with demons. So help-”

The arrogant demon didn’t finish his thought as he collapsed to the ground with a scream of agony. His friends backed away in shock as they watched Marley bite down harder on his leg which leaked crimson drops on the floor.

“Don’t just stand there! Get this fucking thing off of me!” He cried out as he kicked at her with his free leg.

However, this only made her clamp on harder, threatening to snap the bones in his calf. Cold radiated from Mochi’s mouth as she growled out cold smoke while she stared daggers at the now shaken demon. Instinctively, the demon took his shaky hand and summoned a ball of fire that hovered in his palm. The crimson color flashed in Mochi’s eyes and fiery memories struck her to her core, leading her to release him from her mouth and back away from him trembling. Seeing this, the demon chuckled as he shakily got up onto his feet, wincing as he placed weight on the injured leg.

“So the dumb animal is afraid of a little fire, huh?” He mocked as he increased the size of the blaze.

Luke stared at the panicked seal that backed away further and barked shrilly at her assailant. In a blink, he lunged and gripped the demon’s injured leg tightly causing him to scream out in pain.

“Are you trying to get burned, brat!?” The demon cried out as the blaze in his hand grew further and he threatened to stomp out the little angel.

“Don’t you think animal abuse is low, even for a demon?”

The demonic students jumped upon hearing Belphie’s calm voice as he stepped out of the shadows of the hall. They took a step backward as the weakest of the demon brothers slowly walked toward them, stepping in front of the shaken selkie. Luke took the opportunity to scamper over to Mochi as the opposing demons stared down the avatar of Sloth.

“Seriously, picking on cute little animals makes all us demons look bad. Could you try and at least show some higher standard?”

The flame-bearing demon snarled as he showed his fangs.

“Who do you think you’re talking to!? Just because you served directly underneath Lord Diavolo doesn’t make you the boss of me, Angel!”

Belphie just held his chin with a lazy smile as he ignored the insult.

“Oh right, your father’s a duke, isn’t he? That just makes it even sadder.”

The student clenched his jaw as the fireball in his hand flared and flexed in size. Luke clung tight to Mochi whose barking turned silent as she stared at the talking demons. Belphie glanced at them through the corner of his eye before returning to the furious student.

“Either way, you and your friends should probably start running now.”

“Why should we, saint?”

“Because Beel prefers a moving target when he’s mad.”

The demon blinked in confusion only to fully grasp the situation when a large firm hand gripped his shoulder, nearly crushing the bone. The sound of his friends cowering only accompanied the sound of Beel’s slurping as he bent over and devoured the fireball from the student’s hand in one gulp. Regret began to fill the demon to his core as he shakily locked eyes with the imposing sixth-born who chewed his demonic flame as if it was thick cotton candy. Belphie chuckled darkly as Beel swallowed which made the demon jump in fear.

“So how is it, Beel?” Belphie asked his twin casually.

Beel’s grip tightened as his steeled gaze never left the cowering demon’s eyes.

“Not spicy and tastes bad, just like his attitude.” He claimed coldly.

Without another word, Beelzebub suddenly snatched the demon by his collar and dragged him away while grabbing his two friends on his way down the stairs. As the sound of their pleas dulled in the distance, Belphie looked back at Luke and Mochi for a moment before turning away.

“That was tiring, I’m going to go take a nap.” He yawned as he left the twosome in the hall.

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thecagedsong · 4 years ago

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Forgotten Light: Chapter 4: History

A/N: Hey guys! Afternoon update since I was busy with pancake breakfasts this morning. Another Kendra chapter. Ronodin gets a little pushy, but it’s still G rated and won’t ever get worse than this, you’ll see what I mean. Remember, you are supposed to hate him. Still playing around with the chapter title for this one, and some of you who caught my analysis post a few months ago might recognize some themes.

1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11

Chapter 4: History

Kendra picked another book off the shelf, noticed it was in a language she couldn’t read, and put it back. Over half the books in this library she couldn’t read, which seems like poor planning on her part.

She wasn’t even sure she wanted to read. It had sounded like a good way to get her mind off her apparently outrageous life story, but there was really no hope of thinking about anything else.

Kendra was the seventeen-year-old daughter of a noble family, very old fashioned, that obtained their status through years of keeping the undead enslaved and trapping dragons and other magical creatures considered dangerous to mortals. Kendra, as the eldest, was expected to follow in her family’s footsteps as jailors, but had grown doubtful that their way of life was right.

Kendra had met Ronodin at the engagement party for her arranged marriage with his cousin, Bracken. Ronodin teased her that his cousin was such an ugly bore, she had fled from Bracken right into Ronodin’s arms. (Kendra had rolled her eyes when he said that). He had been invited, as family, but Ronodin was far from welcome.

He wouldn’t tell her why just yet, but promised to soon, when they trusted each other a little more. Having nearly killed him, she agreed that that explanation could wait.

Ronodin and Kendra started meeting in secret, and talking. They fell in love strolling through the dragon prison her family kept. To throw suspicion off their meetings secret, they told her family that she was fine going through with her engagement with Bracken.

Her wedding was approaching in a couple of months, and they cared for each other more than ever. Kendra knew that not even her family’s love was worth marrying anyone but Ronodin. He had sounded so amazed when he quoted her, awed that someone so amazing could ever feel that way about him.

Kendra had blushed at her own boldness, and simultaneously felt heartbroken over that fact that she had given that feeling up. She was attracted to Ronodin, certainly, but when she tried to summon the life changing love he talked about, she had nothing. Just attraction and the feeling that he was speaking to someone else.

She had apologized, and he said she would just have to let him court her again. He’d do it as many times as it took to stick, he had laughed. He would understand if she wanted to break off their engagement, but he hoped she would still give him a chance.

Kendra promised to think about it.

They devised a plan, to take place just after she and her brother participated in a coming of age trial specific for their family against the dragons of sanctuary. It was a disgusting spectacle, offering the dragons their freedom once a generation, if they can claim the wizenstone first. It would be the last thing her parents ever forced her to do, she had vowed, and arranged for it to look like her servant had kidnapped her in the immediate aftermath.

For, despite everything, Kendra loved her family. They tried to follow the traditions of their ancestors without cruelty, and they had faced hundreds of trials together. By staging her own kidnapping, she would be breaking their hearts, but in a way they would understand. She would preserve their reputation, and be utterly free.

And that was apparently who she was. Kendra hadn’t counted on losing her memory, but maybe she had felt okay doing it for her brother when she knew about her fake kidnapping going to occur. She must have trusted herself to fall in love with Ronodin again, and Ronodin to take care of her. It was a lot of trust to place in someone.

Kendra did wish she had a family picture. If she went to such great lengths to protect them, then she must have wonderful memories of them, locked under the enchantment. She picked up another book, this one in English, The Forgotten Crown.

The library kept with the crimson and black theme, and she picked a black leather armchair by a fireplace. Normal fire, this time, not blue. It was strange, when things were lit by blue fire, it washed out the red and made the black look like a void. Ronodin must have handled the design choices, she couldn’t imagine picking this out herself under any circumstances.

She wanted to warm her feet, but didn’t think she could move the heavy chair, so sat on it sideways. Her black dress rode up her thighs, but the exposed skin felt the warmth from the fire, so she didn’t bother with modesty while alone. Mendigo was standing guard, he’d knock if someone was going to come in.

Kendra curled up with her book, and started reading about what the author called the six great crowns. They were the pillars of immortality that moved the natural world through its extremes: The crowns of the Giants, the Dragons, the Underking, and the Demons, the Fairies, and the Fair Folk. Humans were the interlopers, and the author took a three whole pages to describe why humans were the absolute worst.

Their sins included but were not limited to:

-Having the audacity to not always want immortality

-Ignoring boundaries like disrespectful heathens

-Killing immortals

-Assuming they have purpose

-Not tasting good

And their greatest sin of all: daring to change. Their ability to change affected even perfectly happy immortals, how dare they! After the rant on humans, Kendra got absorbed in the discussion on the powers and functionality of each crown, and there was a diagram of how they related to each other.

It started with an upside-down triangle. Fairies on the top left corner, Demons on the top right, and the Fair Folk at the bottom point. These three crowns were defined by their morality. The Fairy Crown on light, innocence, and creation. The Demon crown on darkness, pain, destruction, and cruelty. The Fair Folk were the forgotten crown, the main topic of the book, after the background was set. They were entirely neutral, and refused to take part in wars, and only ever offered to broker peace. Their power came from their neutrality, and the author recorded rumors of the horrible fall that came from the one time they broke their neutrality.

Kendra was tempted to skip ahead, but the background came first for a reason. The second triangle overlaid the first to create a six-pointed star. They were creatures based on space. Giants were the lower left corner, and took the sky, the Underking on the lower right took the places below ground, and Dragons stood at the top able to dwell high in the air and a ways underground. Their morality mapped the first triangle. Dragons had the capacity to create and destroy, love goodness or love evil, and came in every space on that morality line. Sky Giants tended between creation and neutrality, while the undead and the underking worked between destruction and neutrality.

The first triangle also worked within the second. The fairies tended between the air and the land, Demons below and on the land, while the fair folk, in the opposite of dragons, could only dwell on the land.

The opposites were also important. Dragons were many things, but it was extremely difficult for them to be neutral. Demons and Sky Giants avoided each other’s domains, so it was most difficult to understand their relationship. The Fairy Realm and the Under Realm however, were the most combative pair of opposites. Neither could tolerate the other. Darkness would swallow light, or light banish darkness, it came down to strength, and there was very little middle ground.

What middle ground there was came from the rare case where beings abandoned their magical alignment for the opposite, spiritual alignment. There were rumors of a demon sworn to pacifism, that occasionally helped naiads, and —

There was a single booming knock, the door flinging open with a bang. Kendra spazzed, fumbling her book and sinking into the armchair. The book fell, and Kendra glared at her “fiancé”, who was chuckling at her again.

“You look lovely,” Ronodin said, pausing to take in her disheveled state.

“Your whole ‘let’s make Kendra jump’ deal makes me think yesterday wasn’t the first time I’ve attempted to kill you,” she said. Well, one sleep ago. Time was hard without clocks or the sun.

That made him laugh once more, and Kendra couldn’t help but smile in return.

“No, not the first time, and probably not the last,” he said with a grin, “But you’ve never regretted holding back.” His eyes flicked to her pale legs.

Pale, bare legs. Kendra squeaked, and tried to pull her dress down, but only managed to flip herself onto the floor. She stood up with burning cheeks and a huff.

“I’m sorry, you’re just so easy to rile up. I love that look in your eye,” Ronodin said.

“Mendigo! Come here,” Kendra called, and the puppet came into the room. “Mendigo, next time, please do some gentle knocking yourself instead of letting the guest attempt to destroy the door before entering.”

Mendigo nodded.

Kendra turned and was about to say something when Ronodin squinted at her.

“Oh, right, sorry,” she said, and with a couple of deep breaths managed to dim her own light. It was an odd sensation, like walking around with her fist clenched. She would get into the habit again eventually.

Ronodin led her into another room down the little hallway of their living space, where Chinese takeout was set up for the meal.

“I’m going to take a guess and say my suave fiancé can’t cook?” she said, noticing the cartons.

“If you’re going to be rude, you don’t have to eat,” Ronodin said, pulling out her chair for her.

“Do I know how to cook?” she asked.

Ronodin shrugged, “I don’t think so, you usually had servants for that, and you lost any memory of experiences that would help you cook. We’ll just stick to take out for now.”

“You have any trouble out there?”

“If you mean your family, no,” he said. “You seemed to have pulled it off, and no one knows where you went. It won’t be long, I think, before we can find somewhere else, if that’s what you still want.”

“Yes please,” Kendra said, serving herself some friend rice. It smelled good, even if she couldn’t remember if she liked it or not, “Look, maybe its part of the fairy thing, but I can’t live in hiding forever. This place is really nice, even if it could use some color, but if you’re going to make me fall in love with you again, its not going to be here. Sorry.”

“I’m working on it, I promise,” he said, pulling her free hand into his and giving it a kiss. He pressed it to his heart, like he had done when Seth had made her touch him with the glove, and it made her blush again.

“I need that hand for eating,” she complained, lightly twitching her hand to reclaim it. It wasn’t like she was repulsed by Ronodin, but his overly physical affection got tiresome.

“You can have it back if you promise to hold your chopsticks right,” he said.

Kendra huffed, “Not all of us grew up using these. And even if I had, I lost my memory. You should be giving me a lot more breaks than you are for that.”

He simply waited, smiling, still holding her hand tightly. Kendra sighed, “Fine, show me how?”

Ronodin grinned and helped position her fingers. Kendra ordered the variety that Ronodin had brought in order from most favorite to least, and Ronodin commented on what his favorites were.

“Careful, you’re going to want the left overs,” Ronodin said, when Kendra eyed the remainder of her favorite. “I met with our host on my way back in.”

“Oh? I thought you said I arranged this myself before I came down here.”

Ronodin sighed dramatically, “Yes, and part of your ‘oh so brilliant’ arrangement was to loan your wonderful and talented fiancé out to our host for errands. I have to go out tonight. I don’t know when I’ll be back, but tomorrow night is probably the soonest we can hope for.”

“Oh,” Kendra said. Sure, he was often annoying, but he cared for her and was the only company she had besides Mendigo. “I guess I’ll explore the library some more.” She stood up to throw her dishes in the sink.

“You could do that,” he said, coming up behind her. “Or you can ask nicely for your other present.”

“I have the feeling asking nicely doesn’t actually go very far with you,” she put her hands on her hips and faced him, “And presents are meant to be given, not asked for.”

Ronodin’s arm snaked forward, pulling her into a kiss. She had a moment to flail, then he released her, and it was over. “You’re right, my favors have costs. Lucky for you, you just paid in full,” he teased.

“Ronodin!” she said, flushing and shoving him away. “Don’t do that.”

He just grinned cheekily and held a shopping bag towards her.

Kendra snatched it from his hands. “I mean it. I’ve known you two very stressful days, no kissing yet.”

Ronodin bowed his head in mock humility, “My lady, I didn’t mean to irritate you. I had to try the old fairy tale cure somehow. Alas, it appears true love’s kiss wasn’t the cure to this curse.”

She wanted to protest that of course it didn’t work, she didn’t love him. But she’d pulled that line once before to get him to back off and he always looked haunted when she did that. Haunted and sad, she didn’t have the heart to keep throwing that in his face, no matter how rude he was. This was at least as difficult for him as it was for her. And a small kiss didn’t hurt her, not really.

Instead she changed the subject by looking in the bag. “Wood blocks, books, fabric, and paint?”

“Your hobbies were another reason your family was suffocating,” Ronodin explained, “You liked carving, painting, and sewing more than dragon slaying and ‘monster’ hunting. Each of these materials comes from a magic source. The wood comes from different enchanted trees, the fabric is made from the hair of a goat the size of a house or lotus fibers, and the paints are mixed with tears and blood of various magical creatures.”

“Why is that important?”

“Because you are one of the select few beings that can craft magic items,” Ronodin said, “Part of you is that everfull wellspring of magic. You’ve done amazing at dimming it by the way, your control after just a day is astounding. But you can also recharge magical items that have run out of power, and when using the right materials, you can create new ones.”

Kendra’s eyebrows raise, “I thought…” she chased the elusive fact down, “I thought only wizards can create magical items.”

“They create it by crafting a vessel, using the same materials, and then binding their own magic into the object through an enchantment. You can skip that part, with the unlimited magic source you have at your disposal. You are more limited in what you can create, especially when starting out, you generally have to stick to reinforcing and enhancing the properties of the materials you’re using. When you do it right, the item will retain its magic long after you’ve put it down.”

“Wow,” she said, “And I could paint, sew, and carve?”

He nodded, “Enchanting items wasn’t at all in your family’s plans for you, so you tended to craft in secret. It will probably take you a while to pick up the skills again, but at least you’ll have something to occupy yourself if the library fails. The books in there provide some basic theories that will help.”

“Thank you,” she said, smiling and holding the bag close. “This was really thoughtful. I know that since I gave up my memory and my family in one swoop, I don’t have a chance at getting them back. But little connections like this help me feel…a little less lost.”

“I love you, Kendra,” he said, simply, “I’ll do anything to make you happy.”

Kendra smiled back uncertainly, unable to reply in kind. He seemed disappointed when she didn’t respond, but moved on to helping her set up a crafting room.

What kind of person led the life that she did? What would it take for old Kendra to not be a stranger anymore? Ronodin was a lot of things, but he deserved so much more than to have her break his heart at every turn.

#This is Ronodin at his worst tbh #Forgotten Light #Forgotten Light Chapter 4 #Kendra Sorenson #Ronodin the unicorn #Not my favorite chapter #Mostly background stuff #Might post another chapter tonight if I feel like it #Fablehaven #Dragonwatch

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thefanficmonster · 4 years ago

Text

Darkest Of Nights

Connor Walsh & Michaela Pratt (How to Get Away With Murder)

Warnings: Sexual Assault, Vomiting, Swearing, Spoilers for Season 1 of How To Get Away With Murder

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Platonic Relationship

Summary: On the night of Sam’s murder, it’s safe to say everyone is traumatized, looking for comfort and solace. However, one of them gets the complete opposite: Michaela is only offered more pain and trauma, bringing her to the brink of insanity.

Requested by 🐢 Anon, but also meant as a birthday present for an Anon who recently reached out to me. Happy birthday dear Anon! Hope you have the best one yet! Here’s the fic you requested - I hope it lives up to your expectations! It’s been such an honor to be the person to write you a birthday present and I can only hope I’ve done my job well! Love, Vy ❤

She’s still in utter shock and disbelief. She’s shaking like a leaf as she navigates the roads back to her apartment. It pains her that she’ll have to pass by the Keating house again tonight, knowing what happened there just hours ago. She squeezes the jacket tighter around herself, glad to not see any familiar - or rather any faces at all. The bonfire has gathered every college student, graduate and fan of the sport around itself, giving the streets an emptiness Michaela hasn’t seen before.

Michaela Pratt has always liked planning out her life, having her future laid out in front of her always at her disposal for changing and modifying. She’s always seen herself a successful, envied lawyer in the future, someone other lawyers fear and all wrong-doers want. Because who doesn’t want freedom? She’d pride herself on being the one to bring them that freedom. She’d pride herself on owning a title like Annalise’s - a bitch, a beast and a boss in the courtroom.

However, just like she had everything laid out in front of her eyes, she’s watching it all fall apart. Fall into that very bonfire her and her classmates went to take pictures at to own their alibis. To save themselves from possible suspicion. To paint the picture that they aren’t murderers.

That realization will never soften its blow to her chest and stomach. Every time she repeats the word ‘murderer’ in her mind, her heart skips a bit and her stomach turns, threatening to make her release everything in it onto the pavement she’s walking on. She feels disgusting and dirty, not only because of the ash and mud she has all over herself following the venture into the woods where they dismembered Sam’s body, but because she took part in it. She may have stood aside, crippled by shock, disbelief and disgust, but she’s now a part of it nonetheless.

With her heart and mind racing faster than she’s able to comprehend, she finds herself unable to turn that corner and get onto the street which the Keating house is on. She feels that if she sees that place she might just faint right there on the street and if that doesn’t raise a few questions, nothing will. Instinctively, she continues ahead, heading down the street that will inevitably lead her to where the mob of drunk or half-drunk people are surrounding a huge fire, celebrating something Michaela is less than disinterested in. She feels it’d make for an extra alibi in case the pictures they posted aren’t enough proof of their faux innocence.

Michaela squints her eyes at the brightness of the fire nearby, sensing both a cough and a sickening feeling climbing up her throat. There are reporter trucks everywhere, ones she sees as the perfect hiding barriers to prevent her from being seen by anyone in case that sickening feeling morphs into an urge to throw up. She quickens her pace, eager to find herself in the safe space between two of the reporter trucks and attempt to calm her heart that’s threatening to beat out of her chest. She’s still visible to anyone walking along the street, but as it was established earlier, the street’s vacant and it seems it’ll remain that way for a little longer so she feels almost invisible and tiny in comparison to the two truck that serve the purpose of her protectors in this very moment.

Placing a hand on the wall of the truck, she doubles over, preparing for the inevitable when she hears a whistle from somewhere close by. Or, more specifically, directly behind her.

“What a view baby!“ A drunken slur of a male voice follows that whistle, causing her to straighten up and turn on her heel as fast as possible. “Is that how women ask to get some nowadays?”

Her stomach’s now in knots and she can’t find her voice to say anything. She’s frozen with fear of the man’s silhouette that’s now approaching her. His features aren’t visible in the dark so even if she did know him - which she’s sure she doesn’t - she wouldn’t be able to recognize him. Not that it matters, recognizing him or not, this man’s intentions are more than clear and more than threatening.

“Silence means yes in my book, babe. So...why don’t we have some fun?“ Before she can even register his proximity, he’s grabbed her wrists and pushed her against one of the trucks. The disgusting fucker holds her wrists at either side of her head, firmly holding them there, ridding her of any chance of escape.

The events she’s had to go through have already weakened her enough but even with that put to the side she’s no match for this guy - he’s a lot stronger and bigger in size. He’s basically towering over her like a predator looming over its prey, toying with it before going in for the kill. And when he does, when she feels his lips on her neck, that’s the final straw.

The need to relieve her insides finally takes over and she starts gagging, causing the son of a bitch to pull away and let go of her. And then she throws up, all over him, earning her the perfect distraction that will buy her enough time to get the fuck out of there. Despite the shaking of her legs and her still-turning stomach, Michaela takes off running, feeling sweat drops forming and running down her forehead. She can hear the cursing of that gross fucker behind her, but luckily she doesn’t take notice of another pair of running footsteps, suggesting she isn’t being followed. Even with this knowledge, she doesn’t stop running. Her brain understands she’s somewhat safe but her heart is racing, her heartbeat echoing in her ears warning her that there’s danger all around. So, she keeps running until she’s less then two blocks away from her apartment complex.

Her adrenaline levels refuse to lower but her legs have basically turned into jelly and she can’t find it in her to even keep walking, let alone running. She collapses, a mess of tears, sobbing and fear on the sidewalk. It’s too much. All too much and all too soon and all out of nowhere. She feels violated, vulnerable, unsafe. She feels both fragile and like she’s already been broken into shards. She feels alone and worst part is, she feels like she deserves it. She sees what happened between those two truck as a punishment for having participated in a murder and the gruesome disposal of a dead body.

Michaela Pratt always knew karma would catch up to her, she just never expected it’d be this cruel.

She got taught the hard way that in the darkest of nights, the most evil of demons attack.

* * *

Connor Walsh is known to be laid back and nonchalant to the point of irritative. However, right now, he’s anything but.

He’s anxious, he’s nervous, he’s still under shock and in mild panic mode. He’s restless, pacing the living room of the Keating home while running his hands through his hair, desperately trying to ignore and push away the memories of the events that took place in this very room less than twenty four hours ago.

“Where the hell is she?!!“ He takes a portion of his anger out on the wooden coffee table with a punch that will for sure bruise his knuckles. His eyes skim over the two other accomplices who have never looked so out of it: dead, bloodshot eyes carrying a thousand yard stare, neither of them reacting to his rage nor sharing it with him. “How the fuck are you so calm?! How can you just sit there and-!“

“Cause there’s nothing we can do!“ Wes suddenly snaps, “You heard Annalise - she called in, saying she wouldn’t be able to make it. So what, you want us to exhibit even more suspicious behavior by thrashing and yelling all over the place?“

“No, no, no. She had said she couldn’t make it because she had something to take care of. That ‘something’ could be reporting us, how do you not understand that?!“ Connor lashes out again, his fists only tightening this time, not finding a victim to take their hits.

“Michaela wouldn’t do that, she’s not stupid. It’ll immediately tie her to it too. She’ll go to jail like the rest of us.“ Laurel says, much calmer than the two men in the room though it probably has to do with the lack of energy due to the lack of sleep.

“You never know what’s going on in the brain of that selfish woman!“ He mutters, suddenly getting up and grabbing his phone. He storms out into the hallway, already dialing Michaela’s number.

With the device pressed tightly against his ear, the dial tone piercing his head like a screech straight from hell, he runs a frustrated hand over his pale as a sheet face, squeezing his eyes shut. The call eventually goes to voicemail, but that doesn’t stop Connor Walsh. He keeps trying, each attempt falling through, each call getting sent to voicemail after about five rings. Each time his anger boiling hotter.

“The hell do you want?! Can’t you catch a hint?!“ His seventh attempt is proven successful when a familiar female voices answers from the other line.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Princess. Am I bothering you? My most sincere apologies! I just wanted to know if you feel like ratting us out to the police, but if I’m calling at an inconvenient time, please forgive me.“ He sneers, his sanity restraints breaking one by one under the pressure of frustration, fear and the anxiety attack that’s been building in his chest all day today.

“Listen here, Walsh.“ Michaela hisses threateningly, though Conner doesn’t fail to pick up on the fact that there’s something off about her voice. He doesn’t dwell on that, too over-occupied with his worries of future jail time to care. “I’m not in the mood for your selfishness or for dealing with any of what happened last night so save your shit-talking for a more decent time. And as for the ratting part, I ain’t that kind of scum, though karma will catch up to each and every one of you. Just like...“ her voice suddenly cracks, the words sounding more like a sob than a threat, “Just like it caught up to me last night.“ That sentence is spoken through a cry, which is the last thing Connor was expecting to hear from the woman he deemed so high and mighty and so full of herself she can’t see the world around her nor how she’s affecting it with her selfish decisions.

That last sentence of hers is what the call ends on and what anchors itself in his head. Connor’s left standing in the hallway with a sickening feeling in his stomach that wasn’t there before and a little voice telling him that something is very wrong with Michaela. Her words were all her trademark, expected and explainable phrases but her tone, and that final statement were odd and far too out of place for him to just brush off. That last line she spoke felt like the most sincere and vulnerable thing she’s ever said to him. To anyone, really. There was no show, no tough act in those words. It was nothing but the confession of a broken girl who’s never felt like her life isn’t her own until now.

With that alarm ringing throughout his head and no good explanation, instead of turning and heading into the living room like he originally intended to, Connor storms out the front door of the home with fast and determined steps, heading for the destination he never thought he’d go to.

* * *

Having ordered food twenty minutes prior, Michaela doesn’t find the doorbell sounding throughout her apartment to be weird or unwelcome despite the fact it made her jump and shudder in her seat. With the comfort of the tiny pepper spray bottle in the back pocket of her jeans, she makes her way to the front door, resting one hand on the handle before pushing up on her toes to check through the peephole that the person she’s expecting is indeed the one who’s on the other side.

Her stomach drops and frustration rises through the roof when the peephole reveals the familiar, somewhat distressed face of Connor Walsh.

“GO AWAY!“ She yells turning and placing her back against the door, now not at all willing to open it.

“I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what’s going on with you!“ She hears his voice coming from beyond the door, sounding strangely honest and deeply concerned.

“Why do you care anyway?! I already told you I won’t rat you out, you’ve got nothing to worry about!“ The lack of hostility in her voice seems to encourage Connor to speak a bit more freely.

“Come on, Shooting Star. Students who kill and dispose of bodies together share problems together.“ He says sarcastically but with true gentility behind his words.

That hint of honesty and a bit of harmless humor is what makes her slowly inch her hand toward the doorknob once again. After briefly hesitating, she pulls the door open, not at all bothered by the fact her rival is seeing her the most unpresentable she ever remembers being: hair a mess, homey clothes she can’t even recall the age of, no make-up, eye bags - the whole pack.

“Don’t like a Princess or a Shooting Star, do I?“ She attempts the same amount of humor he used but coming from her it sounds rather dead and flat, not that it’s not to be expected after everything she went through.

“You look like someone who has seen and been through some shit.“ He says truthfully, still standing in the hallway, unwilling to go inside until she gives him the green light for fear she might suddenly snap at him. “And I’m not only talking about what happened with Sam.“

Michaela’s eyes gloss over with tears immediately, mentally cursing herself for being so obvious. In order to avoid eye-contact, she steps aside to allow him inside.

“Thank you.“ He mutters as he makes his way past her and down the hall, arrogantly comfortable in the new surroundings.

By the time Michaela has started regretting her decision of letting him in, she realizes it’s already too late so she shuts and relocks the door before following after him in the living room where she finds him already situated in the armchair like it’s his 100th time visiting. Hell, like he owns the place.

She takes the seat on the couch closest to him, not bothering to offer him any hospitality in the form of drinks and snacks. Such offer feels ridiculous under these circumstances. Speaking of ridiculous, the circumstances themselves are ridiculous - her biggest rival, and now one of her partners in crime is chilling in her living room with a smug look on his face.

“Karma’s gonna catch up to me, huh?“ He suddenly speaks up, reminding her yet again of how bad of an idea inviting him in was. “Yours caught up to you, you say. Though to me it seems like it beat and battered you too.“

Michaela’s never been a crier. In fact, she’s guilty of silently judging people she’s witnessed crying, thinking of them as weak and spineless. But here she is, fighting back tears at the memories she’d much rather forget.

“It did, but it had the opposite effect. I’m glad we ridded this world of a piece of scum like him. One less man who feels entitled to everything. Who feel free to take anything he wants anytime.“ Her throat feels dry as her eyes fill with tears despite her best attempts at holding them back, “Take a girl’s virginity, take her dignity, her safety, her life, take everything away from her. And all that when she’s most vulnerable and scared and helpless and...“

Her words come to an abrupt halt when she finds Connor has repositioned himself and is now sitting next to her on the couch, has turned to face her and has placed a reluctant hand on her shoulder, “Michaela, what happened to you?”

That’s when she breaks down for the fifth time today. Since that breakdown on the sidewalk on her way home, she’s found it infinitely harder to hold her tears back, keep her emotions at bay. So, instead of easting her energy holding back, she’s been wasting it sobbing into the comforter she had wrapped around herself like a safety cocoon until Connor rang the doorbell.

Instinctively more than intentionally, Connor wraps his arm around her shoulders as she tries to get a few words out in-between sobs, “This guy....h-he t-tried to....” she can’t even finish the sentence without the entire scene playing out in front of her eyes, causing her stomach to tighten and her sobs to grow louder. “But, I-I got away in time. But Connor, what if I d-didn’t? Oh God, what would’ve happened to me if I didn’t?”

“It’s ok, you’re ok now. You’re safe.“ He murmurs, pulling her closer until her head’s resting on his shoulder, “You’re ok. And don’t you ever think of it as karma, you hear me? You didn’t deserve that. No one deserves that. That was in no way your fault or your punishment. That guy’s gonna meet his punishment if I ever lay my eyes on him though, that’s for sure.“

“I-I didn’t see his face, i-it was too dark.“ She manages to say through the subsided sobbing that has now reduced to crying with the occasional sniffle. “I just heard his voice.” Despite having calmed down, she surprisingly doesn’t feel the need to pull away from Connor, create some distance between them. She doesn’t even dwell on how out of character this is for the both of them, nor does she dwell on the slightly off-putting thought that she’s actually glad to have him by her side. To have someone comforting and reassuring her that what happened is not a result of her own bad actions. That thought haunted her all night, preventing her from even thinking about falling asleep.

“Well, if you ever recognize his voice anywhere, you know you have three experienced killers and dismemberers you can contact to, you know, do the job.“ He says comfortingly, his tone light but still serious.

She can’t help but scoff, “One kill and you’re suddenly hitmen?”

Connor chuckles, “When someone messes with one of our own, we sure as hell are.”

That sentence feels like a bandage on one of Michaela’s many invisible wounds. That one of our own line fills that hole her loneliness drilled into her last night on that sidewalk when she felt so lost and alone and broken. When she felt she had no one to turn to and no one to seek comfort in.

Among the many things she saw, heard and learned, the most valuable lesson these past twenty four hours have taught Michaela is that after the darkest of nights still comes morning. A bright morning, a new beginning and a helping hand with it. A helping hand, a safe embrace and comforting words. Bonus lesson is that one can never guess where, or rather from who those three elements will be given. These two are a crystal clear example: never did Michaela think she’d find a helping hand, safe embrace and comforting words coming from Connor Walsh. But here they are.

It may be odd and it may be temporary, but she’s not complaining, he doesn’t appear to be doing so either.

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smediumsmeatbae · 5 years ago

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Happy Birthday, Baby

TITLE: Happy Birthday, Baby

PAIRING: Chris Evans x Reader

WORDS: 940

SUMMARY: Birthday Imagine. You decide to rent out a roller rink for Chris's birthday.

A/N: I got the idea for this after Chris said in an interview that his favorite birthday he's ever had was at a roller rink. If you enjoy, please like/comment/ reblog. I love reading all comments!

This is another submission for the 30 Days of Chris writing challenge by the amazing @jtargaryen18.

You do not have my permission to post this anywhere else.

WARNINGS: swearing, drinking, slight smut, fluff

It’s your boyfriend Chris's birthday and you want to do something special for him.

So you decide to invite all his friends and close family for an old fashioned skate night.

This is exactly what Chris needs: time with friends, crappy snack food, and slow skating with you to 80s and 90s music.

Downey offers to pay to rent out the roller rink, even though you protest after the offer.

Downey waves you off saying: "It's already been done. You can thank me later."

Everyone shows up. All of Chris’s friends come. All the original 6 Avengers are there with their spouses and kids in tow. The more the merrier.

Although with ALL those personalities there, it starts to get a bit hectic.

Scott helps you decorate and gives a list of songs to the DJ for the night. You are even able to get Shanna, Carly, and Lisa out from Boston.

Lisa refuses to skate saying that she has a clumsy gene, but she loves watching everyone.

This roller rink has a bar which Chris is stoked about.

The beer is bare minimum domestic but the cocktails are strong and you know Chris loves basic beer anyway.

Hemsworth turns out to be an amazing skater. He's doing all sorts of tricks, skating backwards and spinning around. Who knew there was a graceful skater underneath that hard body exterior.

However Chris is a little like a baby deer on skates at first, which is *so endearing* to you.

You grew up loving to skate and you're pretty sure on your wheeled feet which leaves Chris clinging onto you, giggling nervously until he gets used to the skates. He swears under his breath the whole time also.

He finally gets used to his skates and he holds your hand skating with you.

"Man this is bringing back so many memories!" Chris exclaimes.

"I would have loved to see you as a kid." You smile up at him.

"Oh yeah? Would you have gone steady with me?" He jokes. “Can I take you to the dance?”

"Nah, you were too much of a dork for me." You grinned, trying to contain your laughter.

"Fhaaaack you, I've seen ya middle school pictures, Smahty." You love it when he gets sassy and his Boston accent comes out. You can’t hold back your laughter any more and cackle at the response.

You bring out the cake that you decided to make earlier in the day while Chris was out running errands. It’s nothing fancy, just a box yellow cake, but the frosting is homemade chocolate cream cheese icing - Chris’s favorite.

You bought paper dessert plates that had Captain America shields on them and when Chris rolls his eyes at the plates you defend them saying that they *are* his favorite colors.

The DJ announces a “just girls” skate and plays the songs Wannabe by the Spice Girls and Whitney Houston's I Wanna Dance With Somebody.

You skate arm in arm with Scarlett to the left and his two sisters on your right. You wave at Chris sitting on the sidelines, who is happily eating cake and drinking beer with the boys.

After the skate, the DJ announces a “couples only” skate. You take Chris's hand and slow-skate to Boys II Men's I'll Make Love To You followed up by a more upbeat tune: Prince's Kiss.

You skated in front of Chris and let his hands roam over your hips and up your sides. You were feeling so good in his arms and his hot breath on your neck told you he was feeling good too.

Scott yells for shots once the song ends and beccons Chris and you off the rink for tequila shots. You were bummed that Chris's hands were off your body but you loved holding hands with him.

Before you get to the shots, Chris smacks your ass as he goes by you, eliciting a small “yelp” from you. He looks at you with a devilishly boyish grin.

“You’re lucky you’re so cute, Evans.” You mumble just loud enough for him to hear. He giggles as he skates up to the bar.

Scott starts dividing up shots between people. Chris gets one, then you, Scarlett, Hemsworth, Ruffalo, Carly, Shanna, Lisa, and Zach, Scott’s boyfriend. Everyone else begs off, happy with their drink of choice.

You make a toast: “to the guy who makes me laugh every day, who I'm so proud to be with in every way. Happy birthday, baby.” Everyone takes their shots.

It is coming towards the end of the party.

Which is probably best considering no one had broken any bones yet by drinking while skating.

You all decided to call it a night and decide to call rides and double up with sober people.

You call an Uber for you and Chris to take back to his house, making sure to get a car that has a privacy window in it.

Cause your man is looking so hot.

And you get horny after a bit of drinking.

You try to keep your moans down as you ride Chris in the backseat of the car, his face buried in your tits and hands on your ass keeping a rhythm as he thrusts.

But you probably didn't succeed and didn't bother looking your driver in the eye when he dropped you off.

You both snicker like teenagers walking back to his house. You hold his hand as he leads you.

Once you get inside, you change into pjs: the shorts that show your ass Chris likes and a tank.

Chris grabs some beers and meets you in the bedroom.

You two end the night with a movie on low, drinking beers and making love to each other in between conversation.

#30daysofchris2020 #jtargaryen18 #chris evans #chris evans fandom #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans fanfic #chris evans fan fic #chris evans X reader #chris evans fem!reader #chris evans x feminine!reader #rpf #actor rpf #american actor rpf #christopher robert evans #christopher robert #chris evans birthday

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lnc2 · 5 years ago

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tongue tied (1/?)

Summary: Chat Noir’s podcast is a viral success.

A/N: This is for @labyrinthofchaos who wanted to see my dumbass idea fleshed out into a full story. Thank you for being patient with me <3 I hope it was worth the wait.

AO3

It started with a black envelope on her balcony.

You’ve been cordially invited to paw-ticipate in Le PodChat…

Marinette rolled her eyes, checked the box marked No, thank you and doodled a sad kitten in the corner before resealing the envelope and leaving it tucked under one of her plants.

She knew the invitation was imminent. Ladybug may have refused to be a part of his little side project in a permanent or official capacity but that didn’t mean that Chat Noir didn’t talk her ears off about future episodes all the same.

“Think about it, bug! Akuma victims coming forward to share their stories– what it was like, what Hawkmoth said, how it felt when they ultimately and inevitably fell at the hands of their favorite heroes.” Here he waggled his eyebrows as he leaned forward on his baton. “How awesome would that be?”

Ladybug smiled, pushing back her eager partner with the pad of her finger. “I think you’ll find people are less willing to come forward about being akumatized than you anticipate, minou. Most people would rather forget the whole thing, not broadcast it to strangers.”

“Exactly! But think about the good it could do if we got people talking about it?” He was all hands in his excitement, frantic waving that nearly managed to catch her in the face. “People like Chloe Bourgeois won’t be able to shame people into being reakumatized if we can just normalize the experience right?”

“But it isn’t normal, Chat.” She sighed. “At least it shouldn’t be.”

“And we’re working on that, my lady.” He said, his voice gentle. “I just think this might be another way to help out. Ease the emotional pressure cooker everyone is under.”

After that, there was really no arguing with him. After all, Chat Noir wasn’t wrong and any and all help that they could provide to prevent future akuma attacks would make their jobs easier in the long run. What had started out as a biweekly way to blow off steam quickly transformed into something Bigger. Marinette couldn’t say she was surprised– everything Chat touched seemed to spiral into more.

When he first broached the idea about starting a podcast hosted by the Ladyblogger Ladybug had laughed. They’d brainstormed silly ideas throughout patrol only for her to realize her partner had been entirely serious. In the end she’d capitulated to his kitten eyes on the condition that this was his thing.

“I have enough on my plate as it is, Chat. I can’t promise to be on every episode with you.”

His eyes sparkled when he bowed over her hand. “Any time you can spare is perfect, as always.”

What Ladybug hadn’t anticipated (although really she should have) was just how successful this particular scheme would be. Calling Le PodChat an overnight sensation did a disservice to how quickly the premier episode managed to crash the Ladyblog’s servers.

Alya was over the moon.

“I don’t know whose ass I kissed in a past life to get this lucky but you won’t find any regrets here.” She squealed the following day at school. “How many journalists can say they have literal superheroes dropping by on a semi-weekly basis to shoot the shit? Nadja Chamack wishes she had so much exposure.”

That much at least was true. She’d heard it from the cat himself who had been more than a little frazzled by how much attention his little side project generated. That evening on patrol he’d been a nervous, twitching agitated wreck as not one but two news outlets had reached out offering to be the “legitimate” homes for the podcast.

“I’d never move it of course,” He said, tail waving with his hands as Ladybug watched him in amusement. “I couldn’t do that to Alya. But the fact that they even offered…!”

It was his good-natured nervous Q&A on the fourth episode that ultimately brought her aboard.

“Okay, last one.” Alya said, clearing her throat. “Cattheclysm87 wants to know, are you guys always Ladybug and Chat Noir or do you have lives outside of the mask?”

There was a pause, longer than the previous ones. Chat Noir tapped his claws against a hard surface.

“Chat?” Alya prompted. He laughed and Ladybug could practically see him shaking his head.

“Sorry, I was just thinking about what my lady would say. What she’d want me to say.”

“And?”

Chat Noir sighed. “Probably something about keeping our identities a secret. And something about how our lives outside the mask are something that makes Paris worth protecting.”

“Do you agree?”

“Naturally.” He said. Even if she couldn’t hear it in his voice, Ladybug knew he was shrugging here. “But I think my life inside the mask is just as important to me. Some days even moreso.”

Alya pressed him. “Oh?”

If she hoped to glean more however Chat Noir wasn’t going to cooperate. At least not today.

“Of course! I don’t know of anyone in Paris who wouldn’t give their left foot to spend time with Ladybug.”

Alya laughed. “She can come by and collect mine any time. I’ll be waiting.”

Ladybug’s first appearance on Le PodChat the following week landed them at #1 on French Twitter’s trending topics something that she regretted almost immediately when #ladynoir hit #3.

“Good luck beating cataclysm with a fork.” Chat Noir’s sneered.

Ladybug laughed. “If you don’t think I could fork you up you have another thing coming.”

“I’m just saying, my lady. There’s not much good your lucky charm can do if it’s in ashes.”

“And I’m just saying it will be pretty hard for you to destroy anything when I’ve got you all tied up.”

He leaned forward and grinned. “Is that a promise?”

Alya had been insufferable for weeks after that.

“God can’t they just date already?”

Her frustrated wails were muffled by her pillow but Marinette heard the familiar lament all too well. She rolled her eyes and continued fidgeting with her sewing machine. At this point she knew it was a waste of breath to point out that no matter how often Chat Noir flirted with Ladybug there was nothing at all romantic between Paris’ superheroes. Her best friend had shipping goggles and nothing Ladybug or Marinette could say about it would dissuade her otherwise.

“Like, seriously,” Alya continued, propping her chin up with her elbow and waving frantically with her free hand. “The UST between them is just unbearable.”

“Then why do you bear it?”

Marinette’s dry remark was met with a pillow thrown to the back of her head. She turned and scowled at her best friend who scowled right back.

“The only thing worse than witnessing their obliviousness would be not being able to see it at all.”

She giggled. “Of course.”

Alya ignored her. “Besides, Le PodChat is fucking killing it in ratings. The Ladyblog hasn’t seen this much traffic since I posted that picture of them kissing after Nino and I were akumatized.”

Marinette valiantly squashed her waspish retort at that reminder and said, “Activity has been pretty high lately.”

“Try astronomical.” Alya shot her a sly smile. “And just imagine, you could be a part of it all.”

Marinette groaned.

She knew this was coming. After she’d rejected Chat Noir’s invitation to come on the show and talk about her experience working with “Paris’ Best and Bravest” during Nathaniel’s akumatization, her partner had been a cauldron bubbling with curiosity.

“Why do you think she said no?” He’d asked Ladybug on patrols, after akuma attacks, before one of her occasional drop ins on the podcast recordings.

Ladybug could only shrug. “Maybe she’s shy.”

Alya laughed. “Nah, there’s only one thing in this world that Marinette’s shy about and public speaking isn’t it.”

“Oh?” Chat said, looking ready to dive into what Ladybug knew would be a too revealing conversation. Fortunately Alya didn’t take the bait and merely waved him off.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll get her to agree.”

Silently, Ladybug laughed.

Because if there was one thing Marinette Dupain-Cheng was not going to do it was agree to be a guest on her crime-fighting partner’s internet radio show. Not when her alter ego was also a frequent guest on said podcast. She didn’t know how much of her identity was protected by the miraculous but she wasn’t willing to test it to appease Chat Noir’s whims.

It would only take one perceptive binge listener (or an overly eager feline partner) to notice that Ladybug and Marinette’s voices sure do sound alike …

Pfft. Yeah, no.

“Not gonna happen, Als.”

“But whyyyyyyy,” Alya whined, sitting up from her prone position on the chaise to shoot her best friend her patented puppy dog eyes. They were nearly as devastating as Chat Noir’s. Marinette was unmoved.

“I’m not embarrassing Nathaniel like that.”

She pouted. “But he’s with Marc now. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.”

“Even if he said he didn’t, the answer is no.”

Thankfully Alya knew when to drop the subject.

Unfortunately for Marinette,

Chat Noir did not.

#miraculous ladybug #lnc2 writes #marichat #ladynoir #le podchat #labrinthofchaos

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