#sabine's bracing herself

[igotsnothing]

Beginning/Previous/Next

[kazoosandfannypacks]

summary:   Waking up was getting harder and harder, no matter how suddenly it came. How long had Sabine been asleep this time? One hour? Two?  Nope.  She quickly found that it had only been ten minutes this time.  "She didn't know how many more nights she could spend like this, her dreams haunted by what she'd lost, and her waking hours spent replaying how she lost it— how she lost him." word count: 1.5K a/n: this one's one of those "i have a line of dialogue how can i write this into a fic?" scenarios. i hope you guys like it! taglist:@laughingphoenixleader @accidental-spice @kanerallels @piraterefrigerator @jedi-nurse @dootchster @lucasbridger @redroverrider @light-umbra @commander-tech {if you’d like to be added to or removed from my Sabezra taglist, let me know!}

also on ao3!

How Much You Have

 There was something almost weightless about Sabine's painting session today. Maybe it was how lost she was in the picture itself. Maybe it was the lightness of the colors clouding out of her airbrushes. Maybe….

 "Is it almost done?" Ezra asked.

 Sabine looked back down at Ezra, who was concentrating very hard on keeping her suspended in midair with the Force.

 Which probably explained the weightlessness.

 "Almost!" Sabine called down, "thanks for helping."

 "No problem!" Ezra said.

 Sabine added the finishing touches of some clouds to her mural on the side of the building. It wasn't every day that she got paid to graffiti something.

 "That should be the last of it," Sabine said, "you can bring me down!"

 She added one last calculated splotch of color as Ezra pulled her back down. Her descent started out slowly, then came all at once, and ended with her falling right into Ezra's arms.

 "Nice catch," Sabine said.

 "I like to think so," Ezra raised an eyebrow.

 "Hey," Sabine said, as he set her back down on the ground.

 "What?" Ezra asked.

 "You know perfectly well," Sabine said, packing up her supplies that were scattered across the ground, "If I recall, you agreed to stop flirting with me three rotations ago."

 "Technically, I agreed we wouldn't flirt with each other," Ezra said, "I'm not breaking the terms unless you reciprocate."

 "Why do you think I stopped you?" Sabine thought, but didn't say.

 Why didn't she say it?

 Instead, she glared up at him.

 "Sorry," Ezra said.

 "Apology accepted," Sabine said, handing him the case of paint supplies as she got up, "now, let's get back to The Ghost. Supper must be almost ready by now."

 "Don't have to tell me twice," Ezra said, "race ya!"

 "You're on!" Sabine called, and ran after him, through the city and to the outskirts where the ship was waiting for them.

 As they neared The Ghost, Sabine found herself growing slower and slower, until eventually Ezra was far ahead of her, and started to fade from view entirely, along with everything else around them, fading into nothing once again.

———

 Waking up was getting harder and harder, no matter how suddenly it came. How long had Sabine been asleep this time? One hour? Two?

 Nope.

 She quickly found that it had only been ten minutes this time.

 She didn't know how many more nights she could spend like this, her dreams haunted by what she'd lost, and her waking hours spent replaying how she lost it— how she lost him.

 "Why'd he have to do such a kriffing stupid thing like that anyway?" Sabine muttered for the hundredth time since last week.

 She checked the time again. At least it was late enough now that no one else was awake. This wasn't her first run-in with insomnia, and in previous lapses, she'd found some warm milk never hurt.

 She slipped out of bed as quietly as she could, the cold of the floor sending a wakeful shock right through her. She braced herself for her next step, and found it came a little easier, and the next after that, and then made her way out of her room.

 "It's a good thing Zeb snores so loud," Sabine thought, as she slipped out the door and past the boys' room, "otherwise Ezra might hear…"

 Sabine froze in her tracks and reminded herself of the harsh reality.

 Ezra couldn't hear her.

 She didn't have to worry about waking up Ezra with her midnight milk raids anymore. She didn't have to worry about him asking her what was wrong and trying to comfort her. She didn't have to worry about running into Ezra at all anymore.

 Why had that ever been a worry?

 She would give anything to run into him again.

 But instead, when she entered the galley, she ran into someone else. Sitting at the table was Hera, clutching onto a cup like it was the last thread of her sanity.

 "Sabine?" Hera asked, before she had a chance to backpedal out of there, "what are you doing up?'

 "I could ask you the same question," Sabine replied. Since she was already caught awake anyways, she may as well get what she came here for, and headed over to the pantry to find some of that shelf-stable milk they always seemed to have on hand.

 "I haven't been sleeping much recently," Hera offered.

 Sabine poured herself a mug of the milk and put it in the nanowave.

 "Seems to be a lot of that going around," she said.

 There was a moment of silence until Sabine stopped the nanowave, just seconds before it beeped. She took the mug out and found herself, instead of bringing her drink back to her room, taking a seat across from Hera.

 So much had happened in the last month, and every step forward cost great sacrifice— so it went without saying why sleep had been lacking for them both.

 And why would they need to say anything anyways? Did either woman have words enough to console herself? And how could they offer that encouragement to each other?

 Silence.

 That was what they needed.

 Just a moment's silence spent with each other, understanding each other, that was all.

 And after that moment ended? After that sweet unspoken connection? Then Hera tacked on what she was really thinking.

 "I miss them so much," Hera sighed.

 "Me too," Sabine choked out.

 Hera gave her a weak smile.

 "I take it you haven't slept well since…" Sabine started.

 "No," Hera said, "the first few nights were rough. There was so much I never told Kanan," and his name came out almost like a prayer, "but I got by. I started thinking about everything he worked for— this crew, the Rebellion, Ezra…."

 Sabine bit her lip and nodded for Hera to continue.

 "It was easier when Ezra was here," Hera explained, "I know it'd be crazy to say Ezra takes after him, but in a lot of ways, he does. Having Ezra, seeing how Kanan's training had shaped him— it was like a part of Kanan was still with me."

 "I know," Sabine said, and maybe she would've said more if the very thought of her potential words didn't already start to bring tears to her eyes. She reached for her half-empty mug of milk, hoping that she could hide it, but found herself unable to even try to pick up the mug with how much her hand was shaking.

 Hera reached across the table and touched Sabine's wrist. Normally, Sabine would've pulled away, but something in Hera's motherly gesture grounded her back into reality.

 She looked up at Hera, who seemed to read Sabine with just a knowing gaze.

 "You miss Ezra?" Hera asked.

 That was it. Just three words. They could mean anything. They could mean the crew wasn't complete without him. They could mean he was the greatest friend she'd ever had, and now she didn't have him anymore. They could mean there were so many questions she didn't get the chance to ask him. They could mean that she missed how his sense of humor could brighten her hard days, and how he'd somehow always known the right thing to say while still never knowing the right thing to say, and that a part of her still needed him in her life. Those three simple words could even mean "did you love him?"

 But whatever those three words were meant to ask, Sabine knew the answer was "yes," and with that one word response came the breaking of a dam behind her eyes, and an onset deluge of tears.

 Sabine hadn't cried in front of Hera in ages— she hadn't cried in front of anyone in a long time— but Hera responded wisely, the only way she could. She got up. She walked around the table. She sat next to Sabine. She put an arm around her.

 And Sabine let herself cry for a moment there. If she hadn't been so distraught, she would've thought it was weird and embarrassing and would've left immediately, but all she could see right now was her grief, and that Hera was someone who understood.

 "There's so much I never told him," Sabine said, once she'd stopped crying. She let her words come out sharply instead of softly, hoping her anger would cauterize the tears, "so many questions."

 "I know," Hera said, "oh, I know."

 "Sometimes I have dreams," Sabine shook her head and pulled away from Hera a little, drying her cheeks with her sleeves, "dreams where everything's okay— where he's here, and we're happy, and I'm even being mean to him because I don't even think I could ever lose him."

 "You don't know how much you have until you've lost it," Hera shook her head, "you don't realize how precious every moment is."

 "Yeah," Sabine said, "makes you look at everything differently.

 "Yeah," Hera said.

 Sabine looked up at Hera and smiled a little for the first time in days.

 "Hera?" Sabine said.

 "Yeah?"

 "Thank you."

 "For what?"

 "I don't know," Sabine said, "I just know tomorrow's not guaranteed anymore, and I want you to know. I appreciate you a lot, and I'm glad I joined your crew."

 "I know," Hera nodded and smiled a little, with a hint of pride, "and Sabine?"

 "Yeah?"

 "I love you too."

[training4theapocalypse]

A Nest of Vipers Ch3. (Cormac McLaggen x Original Female Character - Slytherin)

Rating: Explicit 18+

Word Count: 6.5K

Warnings / Tags: Smut, Oral Sex (F receiving), Secret Relationship

Summary: Cormac McLaggen has some useful information that Una Montague is very grateful for.

A/N: My neck, my back...

Masterlist

Join my tag list: @countlambula, @ratsys, @aweidlich, @navs-bhat, @stainedpomegranatelips, @chiaraanatra, @xxvelvetxxxx, @ohnoitsrosie, @dracosisteer, @daisydark, @intense-sneezing, @lipstickandloveletters, @ichorai (let me know if you want removed at any point btw!)

Chapter 3: Service

The bell rang, signalling the end of Potions. Una looked at Sabine and Meredith. Professor Slughorn was in a very pleasant mood after she’d performed well in class today but nerves still twisted in her stomach. 

“You’ve got this,” said Sabine confidently and extended her pinky finger. Meredith leaned across the desk behind them and the three of them squeezed their pinkies together. “You know how to get what you want. So do it.”

Una nodded. “I’ll meet you in the Great Hall.”

She braced herself, getting ready to ask her favour of Professor Slughorn. Careful flattery of the people who mattered was right in her wheelhouse but when it came to her brother Graham, her fierce protectiveness made her feel like the stakes were incredibly high.

Cormac McLaggen, who usually ignored her in this particular lesson due to her proximity to the rest of the so-called ‘Vipers’, glanced at her suspiciously as he exited the classroom. Una didn’t acknowledge him. She didn’t need Cormac distracting her now as she hovered at her desk, waiting for the Potions room to vacate. 

“Professor Slughorn, sir?” she asked when it was only she and the Potions Master left.

“Miss Montague, I’ve already told you that was an excellent Everlasting Elixir. I hope you’re not looking for more points?” he chuckled.

“No, sir.” She smiled modestly. “I hope it’s not too much to ask but I was hoping to ask you a favour.”

“A favour? Well, I certainly couldn’t refuse at least hearing our Head Girl out, could I?” 

“Thank you, sir. It’s about my brother, Graham Montague. I don’t suppose you heard what happened to him last year?”

“I’ve heard rumours, of course. But I’m not, ah, familiar with the whole story, that is.”

Una launched into a dramatic retelling of what happened to her younger brother last year. She didn’t hold back on the horrific details - her eyes expertly welled up in all the right places while Slughorn ‘ooh’-ed and ‘ahh’-ed. By the end of the story, Slughorn had even conjured up an opulent satin handkerchief for her to dry her eyes on.

“And so you see, sir. He’s only sitting two N.E.W.Ts this year - he didn’t want to fall a year behind his classmates. But Potions is his favourite subject. It’s just that he barely scraped an ‘A’ because he missed so much.”

“I do see, m’dear,” said Slughorn sympathetically. “And your brother, is he half as clever as his older sister?”

Una sniffled into the handkerchief and gave him a watery smile. “Yes, sir.”

“Then it’s settled!” boomed Slughorn. “He’ll have some catching up to do - it’s three weeks into term, you know. But he can certainly join the other sixth-years.”

“Thank you, Professor.” 

Slughorn smiled and walked her out of the classroom.

“Not at all! Not at all!” he said when they were in the corridor and Una had the distinct feeling that Slughorn very much enjoyed being asked for favours that only he could grant. Like a giant, walrus genie. 

Slughorn waddled off into the direction of the Great Hall, as she fixed her mascara, quickly pulling herself together and stuffed the silk handkerchief into her bag. That couldn’t have gone any better if she had tried. She was excited to brag to Sabine and Meredith about how she had masterfully pulled Slughorn’s strings. But she was secretly even more excited that Graham would have another lesson to keep himself busy. Hopefully too busy to help Draco Malfoy with whatever schemes he had planned.

“Masterfully done,” said a voice behind Una as she pulled her gaze from Slughorn and turned to see Cormac McLaggen, leaning one of his broad shoulders against the wall and giving her a slow round of applause.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Una, fixing her hair by tucking it behind her ear.

“Sure,” said Cormac.

“What are you waiting out here for? Are you spying on me?” Una tossed her hair over her shoulder. “Feeling brave enough to push me up against the wall with all these witnesses?” she asked, looking at the sparse groups of students passing the dungeons on their way to dinner.

“Oh, come on. You loved that and you know it.”

Una pursed her lips not deigning to dignify his comment with a response, however true it was. “Why are you waiting out here, Cormac?”

“Well -” he took a deep breath. “Gryffindor Quidditch tryouts are tomorrow and I was wondering if you wanted to come along and watch?”

Una snorted. She hadn’t expected that.

“Don’t laugh,” he said, giving her an offended look.

“I’m sorry,” she said, regaining her composure. “No, honestly, I am. But how do I put this politely?” She looked at the high ceiling thoughtfully. “I simply couldn’t think of a worse way to spend a Saturday.” This was, at least, the truth. She’d spent enough of her childhood and time at Hogwarts watching her brother play and couldn’t think of anything more dull.

“I just wanted to make up for the other night in the library. Call a truce.”

“By asking me to watch you play Quidditch?”

He shrugged and gave her a cocky grin. “Some people say I look really good in my uniform.”

Una laughed again but this time it was in disbelief. He really was arrogant beyond belief. 

“Well, thank you for the exceptionally generous offer but I’ll have to say ‘no’ on this occasion.”

“I just thought you might want an excuse to look at me from a safe distance.”

She couldn’t help her mouth twisting into a reluctant smile. He was nice to look at. And Merlin’s Beard, he was persistent. It was a very strange sort of peace offering.

“Please, Cormac,” she said sarcastically, rolling her eyes.

He took a sharp inhale of breath. “Oh, don’t say that. It’s giving me ideas.”

“What, ‘Cormac’?”

“‘Please’”, he corrected her. “You know if you just saw me play, I’d have you begging like that.”

“In your dreams,” said Una, turning to walk away, hiding how much she was enjoying his audacity. 

“Wait, Una. Last chance,” he called to her.

“Are you giving me an ultimatum?” she turned back around and smirked.

“I’m just saying, plenty of other girls in here who are interested,” he lifted up his hands.

“Sure, Cormac. Go ahead and ask one of them to watch you play,” laughed Una, shaking her head at his very transparent attempt to make her jealous. “I’ll see you in Transfiguration next week.”

“Suit yourself.”

And with that, she made her way to the Great Hall, wondering if she might make up some excuse to go and watch. She actually would enjoy seeing what Cormac McLaggen’s shoulders would look like in the Gryffindor Quidditch robes.

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

A few days later, Cormac McLaggen sat in Professor McGonagall’s classroom, determinedly not looking back at the door in anticipation of his deskmate’s arrival.

“So, how did it go?” asked Una, as Cormac looked up to see her slipping into her usual seat as the buzz from the other students filled the classroom.

Cormac hesitated - he wasn’t sure what exactly had happened at the Gryffindor Quidditch tryouts. The memory was still hazy. It was probably all the adrenaline, he supposed.

“That bad?” she smirked.

He shrugged nonchalantly as if it didn’t bother him. “Reserve keeper,” he said. “Probably just as well you didn’t turn up.”

Cormac felt Una’s eyes on him, surveying him carefully.

“You know, Cormac, it would have looked weird if I’d have gone. It’s not like anyone else in Slytherin would have been there,” she said quietly.

“I get it.” 

“Everyone knows I hate Quidditch too. It would have been sus-.”

“Honestly, it’s fine.” He looked at her apprehensively. “Look, I’ve been thinking it’s probably for the best anyway.”

Una grinned at him. “Oh no, are you breaking up with me?”

When tryouts were over, he had spent time thinking about this long and hard over the weekend as his thoughts recently so often turned to Una. “I just think - whatever it is we’re playing at - we should cut it out.”

Una gasped playfully. “Oh my god, you are breaking up with me.”

“Well, obviously not. We were never together. But yeah.” He cleared his throat, bracing himself for her reaction.

Una moved in closer to him. “You’re not slick, you know that, right? This is the oldest trick in the book.”

“Una, it’s not a trick. I’m serious,” he said, turning in his chair to face her. Cormac knew the more time he spent in her company, the more he was experiencing feelings for her. Mostly strong feelings of irritation - she really wasn’t an easy person to get along with. But he was starting to realise that maybe the best way to rid himself of those feelings perhaps wasn’t bending her over, and fucking her until she started saying nice things to him. Maybe.

“You can’t resist me, Cormac. You said you think about fucking me all the time,” she hushed as if reading his mind.

“We both know our friends would cut us off if we started dating each other.”

“Who said anything about dating each other?” Una rested her hand on his knee. Her touch felt like a jolt of lightning. Before Cormac could reply, she slinked off of her chair and crawled under the desk. His eyes widened as he looked down at her on the floor between his legs. Una’s hand travelled further up his thigh as she whispered, “Nobody needs to know.”

Cormac felt blood rushing towards his cock as he looked edgily from left to right to see if anyone else had noticed what was happening. They hadn’t. He looked back down at her on her knees with her lips parted. 

He was done for.

“Una,” he murmured. “What are you -”

Her free hand rummaged in her bag and she got up to her seat again.

“Just getting my quill,” she said, putting it on the desk and smoothing her hair as she took her seat again. 

“Books and quills away,” barked Professor McGonagall as she entered the classroom. “Today you’ll be turning toads into toadstools.”

Una made to slide off her chair to return her quill to her bag but Cormac gripped her arm and shook his head. 

Una smirked at him. “What?”

“You know what.”

“Still getting ideas, Cormac?”

This was even more maddening than when Una was pretending she wasn’t interested in him. Cormac opened his mouth to respond but Professor McGonagall continued.

“Might I remind you that you should be working on these spells non-verbally so there will be no need for talking. That goes for you too, Mr McLaggen.”

Cormac turned in his chair abruptly to face the front but Una just smiled innocently at the stern look on McGonagall’s face.

They didn’t speak to one another as their toads were passed out. Una wrinkled her nose when a particularly fat, ugly toad was placed on her desk. As if merely keen to rid herself of its presence she tapped her wand lazily and it turned into a pretty, red toadstool.

Cormac knitted his eyebrows together and pointed his own wand at his toad, repeating the spell over and over again in his head. It did nothing.

“You know, I could help you,” said Una, brushing her hair from her shoulder and lolling back in her chair. 

Cormac sighed. “Go on then.”

“Not so fast. What are you gonna do for me?”

“Are you sexually harassing me, Una?”

“Maybe…” She gave him a flirtatious smile that he almost returned until with a flicker of indignation he remembered why he had resolved to stop flirting back with her.

“Then what?” He whispered. “I admit I want to fuck you so you can pretend you’re not interested and then we start this whole thing again?” He raised an eyebrow. “Una, I can’t keep up. I’m not good with these games.”

“Really? I thought we were having fun.”

He looked at her with a pained expression. “I don’t need this kind of fun.”

Una narrowed her eyes. “Fine. Find someone else. You’d be bored out of your mind.”

“I wouldn’t,” he said.

“Prove it.”

“I will.”

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

Almost a week later, Professor Slughorn had invited them to another one of his dinners, which Una still determinedly refused to refer to as ‘Slug Club’. After promising Sabine and Meredith that she’d find out what she could about the next potions lesson, Una and Blaise made their way to Slughorn’s office.

They entered the room to find Cormac McLaggen and Eddie Carmichael amongst the students already seated. Una ignored the empty seats beside Cormac and instead, she followed Blaise to the opposite side of the table beside Hermione Granger and Ginny Weasley. 

Cormac frowned when she took her seat but she paid him no mind which only seemed to annoy him more. So much for not being interested in playing games.

An hour or so later, when desserts had magically appeared on the table, Una watched as Cormac tried to make eye contact with the girl on Una’s right as he sucked chocolate sauce from his finger. The girl he’d been eyeing up, Hermione Granger, caught his eye and Una had to stuff an entire profiterole in her mouth to stop herself laughing when she saw Hermione visibly recoil. 

Cormac cleared his throat and pretended to find another conversation incredibly interesting as she watched his neck turn scarlet as he looked away. Maybe there weren’t ‘plenty of girls who were interested’ as he had claimed. Although, thought Una with satisfaction, if he was looking for a nice, boring girl then Slughorn’s club was probably the the right place

“You know, Miss Montague. I had been meaning to tell you that it’s been a pleasure having your brother, Graham, in Potions,” said Professor Slughorn once the dessert plates had been cleared and the older students’ wine glasses began filling up.

“Thank you, Sir,” beamed Una.

“I was worried about him keeping up after his incident last year but I needn’t have been!”

A few seats down Una heard a snort of laughter. She turned to see Ginny Weasley stifling a snicker with her hand.

“Think it’s funny, do you?” shot Una, glaring at her.

“I mean, sort of, yeah,” said Ginny, far too boldly in Una’s opinion. “He turned up alright in the end. In the U-Bend, mind.”

Una clenched her jaw. Ginny Weasley couldn’t have been the one who’d done it. She was much too small to have shoved Graham anywhere. But still, the little smirk on her face told her that she probably knew who had. 

“He almost died. Thanks to someone in your stupid little club,” said Una bitterly.

“Well, let’s call it even after your Slytherin gang of snitches made sure we all got detention,” Ginny retorted.

“Even? You think that detention -“

“Ladies, ladies. Please. All water under the bridge now, surely?” implored Slughorn.

It certainly wasn’t. Not to her. Nonetheless, she quickly rearranged her face into a smile at Slughorn. She would prefer to have him as an ally, have her think she was the bigger person.

“Certainly, Sir.”

Cormac looked at her with a slightly guilty expression from across the table. She averted her gaze - she had temporarily forgotten he had been part of the D.A. too.

When dinner was finally over and Una had managed to procure information from Slughorn about the next Potions lesson, she and Blaise walked back towards the Slytherin common room together.

“That Ginny Weasley really is a piece of work,” sneered Una. Blaise looked over his shoulder. “She’s good-looking though,” Una added just to see his reaction.

“I wouldn’t touch that little Blood Traitor with a ten-foot broomstick.”

“Blaise, don’t use that kind of language around me or I’ll tell your sister.”

He scoffed. “Fine.”

“And I’ve seen the way you look at her. I know you’re just deflecting.”

“Oh yeah? Gonna tell my sister about that too?”

“No,” said Una carefully and they both came to a standstill. “I wouldn’t tell her... And I wouldn’t tell her if you wanted to use Slughorn’s club as an opportunity to get to know her either.”

Blaise eyed her suspiciously.

“I mean it. I don’t think we can help it if we’re attracted to someone - even if they’re in Gryffindor.”

“Montague!” called a voice from behind them. Cormac McLaggen was on his own, walking towards them. 

“What do you want?” asked Una coolly.

“I was wondering if you had written down the Transfiguration homework?” he asked, giving her a meaningful look that Blaise didn’t fail to notice.

“I’m going to the common room,” said Blaise, walking away. “I’ll see you later.”

“Blaise, wait a minute.” Una caught up and stopped him. “This doesn’t have anything to do with what I was just saying.”

She stared at him for a second, trying to read his cool, dark eyes. 

“Slughorn held you back because he wanted to ask you a question after the party,” he said quietly so Cormac couldn’t hear. “And maybe in future… he’ll have something he wants to ask me.” He raised his eyebrow pointedly.

Una nodded, not daring to say anything else. She wasn’t sure she trusted Blaise. Or he her. But the less either of them said, the more plausible deniability they both had. 

She turned back to Cormac as she heard Blaise walk away.

“What do you want?” she asked.

“Look, it’s about your brother,” said Cormac in a hushed voice. “I just wanted you to know it wasn’t anything to do with me.”

She scanned his face carefully, looking for any signs of deceit. But there were none. “Do you know who it was?”

“I don’t think I can say… I mean, you know Marietta Edgecombe? When she told Umbridge about the D.A. she got horrible acne all over her face spelling the word ‘sneak’. There’s a curse to stop us from saying anything about what went on.”

Una rolled her eyes with all the derision she could muster. “Of course. I wouldn’t want you to ruin your good looks. Those are more important. See you later, Cormac.” She walked away but before she could reach the end of the corridor he called after her.

“It was Fred and George Weasley.” His voice rang out, echoing the names in the deserted hallway.

Una paused. Not quite believing what she had just heard, she turned around slowly to see Cormac squeezing his eyes tight shut, bracing himself for the curse to mark his face “Is it bad? Just tell me,” he said, not daring to open his eyes.

Una walked back towards him to look at his face. It was still stupidly handsome. Even in the dim torchlight of the corridor, she could see he had not been marred by whatever curse he was expecting.

She reached up and brushed her index finger across his cheekbone. Her face was so close to his neck that as she looked up at his face she could smell the expensive, clean scent of his aftershave. 

“What does it say?” He said, opening one eye.

She traced letters across his face as she spelt out. “D… I… C…K-.”

“Oh, ha-ha.” He said opening his green eyes and looking down at her, standing in tiptoe to touch his face. “Is there anything there?”

She shook her head slowly. “You really thought you might get cursed if you told me?” He nodded. “That was very brave considering your looks are mostly all you’ve got going for you.”

“You know what? I just did a decent thing - you are so -”

“Kiss me,” she interrupted.

“You - what?” 

She looked from his raised eyebrows to his lips. “I won’t bite.”

“Sure about that?” he asked sarcastically.

“Not this time, anyway,” she said, smoothing her hands along his jumper. “Unless you want me to.”

He studied her expectant face. For a second she thought he wasn’t going to kiss her. Until, with a resigned sigh, he tilted his head down and pressed his soft lips against hers tentatively. She pulled herself against his body and kissed him back, tasting dark chocolate and red wine on his lips. When her tongue swiped against his lower lip, he seemed to decide it was safe enough to slip his tongue into her mouth. 

He ran his hand through her hair and tugged gently at the nape of her neck, tilting her head back so he could kiss her exposed throat shamelessly. She cupped his head as he did, feeling his dark blonde curls entwined through her fingers. 

A door slammed shut in the distance and they broke apart abruptly when they heard footsteps at the other end of the corridor. Their eyes darted towards the door at the end of the corridor nearest them. They both bolted towards it. Cormac recklessly threw it open and they ran inside, shutting the door behind them and leaning against it catching their breath. 

Una’s chest rose and fell rapidly in anticipation of being caught. They stayed deadly silent as the footsteps passed and breathed a sigh of relief as they went off into the distance.

Una took in her dark surroundings. It was a disused classroom with empty bookcases and some tables and chairs piled up in a corner. They remained quiet for a few seconds, neither of them daring to bring up what had just happened in the corridor. Una knew she had to get back before before Sabine and Meredith had time to be suspicious. 

She turned to look up at him. “We should go. I appreciate you telling me about the Weasley twins. That was really useful information.”

“Useful information?”

“It doesn’t matter. But I mean it, thank you.”

“Happy to have been of service.” Cormac leaned against the door, looking down at her. He curled two fingers under her chin, tilting her head up towards him. “Call it a favour.”

“One I’m expected to return?” she raised her eyebrow. She was well versed enough in getting information to understand the quid-pro-quo involved. “What, you want me to help you with non-verbal spells after all?”

He smirked as his thumb skirted over her bottom lip. “No, the favour I was thinking of involved your mouth. Although you won’t need to be particularly verbal.”

Una’s breath hitched in her throat when she pictured herself sliding her hands down his body and she sank down to the floor and undid his belt. But she quickly turned it into a scornful scoff. “That is very presumptuous of you.”

He gave her an arrogant look that made it clear he had seen the flicker in her eyes as she had briefly considered it. 

“Come on, I bet you’re good at it. You’re good at everything.”

She wasn’t sure how to respond. Honestly, she didn’t know if she’d be good at it. Sure, she’d had plenty of clumsy fumbles in deserted corners of the common room with boys, groping and rubbing each other under layers of clothing. But sucking Cormac McLaggen’s dick as some sort of subservient expression of gratitude?

“I don’t get on my knees for anyone,” she said, finally, pulling back from his touch and screwing up her face.

“Oh yeah, what were you doing on the floor in Transfiguration last week? Or maybe I’m not just anyone?”

“You wish. I was getting my quill out of my bag.”

“You little tease,” he grinned. And for some reason, the cocky way he said it made butterflies erupt in her stomach.

“You’re not going to provoke me into sucking your dick by calling me names. You really think I care if you call me a tease?”

“C’mon, I’ve seen the smirk on your face when everyone stares at you in these little skirts,” he said quietly, his fingers lightly touching the hem of her skirt, skating the front of her thighs. 

“Not everyone,” Una said in a small voice, a little more honestly than she’d intended.

Cormac’s eyelashes lifted from the hem of her skirt to her face. “If I looked at you, I’d be walking around like this all the time.” He took her hand and placed it just below his belt. He was hard. Her instinct was to withdraw her hand and admonish him but she didn’t. Instead, she kept it there, looking up at him and daring him to continue. “You know, when you started dressing like that - way back at the beginning of our third year - I used to think about kissing you… right here.” He moved his hand under her skirt and dragged his finger across the front of her underwear, sending a pleasant shiver down her spine. “It was stupid. I hadn’t even kissed a girl before or anything yet. All I knew was that every time I saw you, I wanted to bury my head between your thighs and taste you.”

“You… you did?” Una took an unsteady breath, running her fingertips over his hard length from base to tip. She could feel him pulsing under her touch.

“I was hardly getting anything else done. So I just stopped looking at you altogether.” The pads of his fingertips rested just over her clit through the fabric. She felt like she was on fire - so hot and throbbing that she was surprised Cormac hadn’t been scalded just by touching her. “Like I said, stupid of me.”

He kissed her again as his fingers rubbed gentle circles over her underwear, barely touching her. Una let out an involuntary whimper against his lips. He kissed along the line of her jaw and pressed his mouth to her ear, the slightest bit of stubble tickled her face. “See? I can be a tease too,” he murmured, a low growl in her ear that made hairs on the back of her neck prickle.

Shit. He was right. And he was good at it. Una gulped, loud enough for him to hear. He drew back and looked her up and down. The way he toyed with her already had her desperate for him to put more pressure on her aching pussy.

“I didn’t know you even knew I existed,” she admitted, her muscles in her core twisting so tightly they were starting to hurt.

“Well, it was easy to pretend since you have such a terrible personality.”

She exhaled an amused laugh of relief when he made fun of her. This was more in her comfort zone - playful sniping, not confessions of secret pining that made her yearn for him in a way she wasn’t ready to admit. “Speaking of which, I thought you didn’t need this ‘kind of fun’?” Una asked, hoping to provoke him into arguing with her again.

“Who said anything about fun?” asked Cormac, his green eyes glittering darkly.

Without warning, he pressed her against the door with his body and pushed his hips between her open legs. Una winced in surprise. God, she’d been thinking about him doing that every night since he did it in the library. He scooped her up with ease, pinning her against the door as she held onto his shoulders, feeling the friction of his hard cock against her throbbing cunt. Una’s breath hitched in her throat when she felt his hips buck against her and he let out a grunt as his cock chased the pleasant stimulation. 

Cormac leaned down and trailed wet, sloppy kisses down the side of her neck again, this time pausing to suck hard on her sensitive skin. Una breathed heavily, tilting her head back against the door and enjoying the feeling of his lips sucking on her neck. Her neck. With a start, her eyes flew open and she tugged his hair, pulling him back.

“Don’t give me a love bite,” she hissed. “Someone will see.” His grin faltered when he saw the serious look on her face. Una loosened her grip on his hair. “Cormac? Maybe this is a bad idea.”

Cormac heaved a sigh and gently let her down until her feet met the floor again. He pressed his forehead against the top of her head for a few moments. The only sound was their laboured breathing as the reasoning part of Una’s brain fought for the blood supply below her waist. 

“Yeah… maybe,” he said solemnly. Una could practically hear her body crying in protest, desperate for his touch below her waist again. She had secretly hoped he’d disagree. Find a way to persuade her. “Can I just… do something? I need to get it out of my system.”

“What - oh.”

Cormac knelt in front of her. “I want to taste you. Just once,” he said and pushed her skirt up. Una felt her cheeks burning as he pressed his face against her underwear and inhaled deeply. Shit, what was he doing? She was so turned on, she knew it must be a hot, sticky mess down there. Cormac groaned as he breathed out, sending a ripple of warm vibration across her clit. 

“Fuck, you smell good.”

“I smell good?” she blurted. 

“What? Nobody ever told you that while they were eating you out?”

She shook her head. Una had never let anyone do this to her before. Not that she’d tell Cormac that.

“Well, they’re idiots,” he said. She was glad that he had misunderstood her meaning. He hooked his fingers over the hem of her underwear. “Can I take these off?”

Una bit her bottom lip. “...I thought it was me who owed you a favour?”

“This is more of a favour from present me to fourteen-year-old me.” He slipped her underwear off and down her legs. She stepped out of them shakily - her legs felt so weak she had to lean against the doorknob for support. 

He traced two fingers between her folds, the flat of his fingers sliding against the slick of her hot, neglected slit. “You’re so fucking wet.” She couldn’t quite believe she was letting Cormac McLaggen do this to her. He sucked his fingers so he could taste her juices.

“Oh my god, Cormac…” Una said, feeling scandalised and blushing furiously as he closed his eyes in a blissful state of enjoyment. Her breathing felt stuttered as she watched him slowly withdraw his fingers from his mouth.

“That doesn’t count as tasting you,” he said firmly as if afraid she’d tell him to stop. Cormac pressed his lips against her and furnace-hot heat enveloped her clit as he started kissing her there like he was kissing her mouth. She could feel the texture of his tongue as he swirled it around her clit, making little circles as he did. His mouth was slick - she’d never experienced anything so warm and so heavenly on her skin before.

“Fuck, you taste so good…” He paused between kissing and nodded decisively, looking up into her eyes before turning his attention back to the task at hand. “Yep, I’m going to make you cum on my tongue.”

Una stifled a whine when his mouth met her cunt again. She couldn’t let him know how easily she was already coming undone. She could already imagine how triumphant he’d be, how smug that he’d managed to make her cum so quickly. She had to fight it.

But fuck, his mouth felt incredible on her. She could at least tell him that, right? That’s what people did during this type of thing, wasn’t it?

“Cormac?” she breathed. “That - that feels nice.”

He pulled back, his eyes flicking up from her wet pussy to her flushed face. “Yeah, you like that?” For a split second, she saw his smiling mouth glistening - whether wet with his saliva, her soaking wet arousal or a combination of both she wasn’t sure. God, he really would be insufferable if he made her cum quickly. He kept his eyes locked on her as he pressed the flat of his tongue against her clit.

Una swallowed against the dryness of her throat, unable to tear her eyes away from his wild, intense stare. She felt the pads of his fingers teasing her entrance. Una had been aching for him - any part of him - to be inside her for so long that she could practically hear how dripping wet she was. He raised his eyebrows and she nodded, feeling two large fingers slip inside her. Her leg muscles tensed when they began pressing intimately against a spot that only she had ever touched before, alone in the confines of her own bed.

“God, you’re so tight around my fingers,” he said, pausing his licking to watch his digits slide in and out of her. “You needed this, right? Been a while since you let someone take care of you like this?”

Fuck, he had no idea that nobody had ever taken care of her like this.

He pushed his body closer to her, encouraging her to hook her leg over his broad, muscular shoulder so he could push his fingers in even deeper. He curled his fingers inside her wet cunt, tapping against her G-spot. She wasn’t sure if it was the size of his own hands compared to hers or if it was the fact she was fixed on his green eyes as he touched her, but it felt better than when she did it on her own. 

“Oh - fuck,” she whined, feeling his hand and mouth working in sync, pushing and swirling as her core tightened around his digits. The sight of him there made her brain feel like it was going into overdrive.

Every movement, pressing deep inside her brought her closer and closer to the brink. It was coming thick and fast. Faster than she had ever managed by herself. She threaded her fingers through his hair, just for something to hold onto as she trembled but he took it as a cue to pick up his pace.

“Mmh,” he moaned sloppily as his renewed pace made her squirm. Her hips moved as if by their own volition, grinding against his tongue and chasing the bliss that was ready to burst from her core. She in equal parts wanted it to happen quickly and for this moment to last forever. She imagined Sabine and Meredith waiting for her in the dormitory, wondering where she was. As soon as the thought crossed her mind, her pussy started contracting around his fingers as they drove mercilessly into her, pressing again and again and again on that sweet spot in her core without reprise. Fuck, it was wrong that she was enjoying this. So fucked up and so fucking wrong. 

“Keep going,” begged Una as the wave pulled back, ready to crash over her. She arched her back and threw her head against the door, tugging on his hair. No wonder he was driven mad by the idea of her being on her knees for him, if this is what it felt like. She wanted him here all the fucking time now. The sound his mouth was making as he kept sucking and licking and fingerfucking her, ignited some deep, primal part of her brain that blocked out all the inner chatter about how they shouldn’t be doing this.

She breathed hard, open-mouthed as she looked down at him again, expecting to meet his gaze once more but instead found his eyes closed in pure, unencumbered pleasure as he devoured her like a starving man. 

“Fuck, I’m - ah - fuck,” she sobbed as ecstasy surged through her core.

The dark room turned so blinding white she was sure for a second that someone must have burst through some unseen door and shone their wand light in their faces. But she didn’t care. All that mattered was the orgasm that was rippling through her entire body, so deep that it seemed to burst through all her extremities. His wet tongue continued its attack on her clit and his fingers kept drilling deep into her, guiding her through it until finally, her legs were twitching from the aftershock.

She let go of his hair and practically collapsed against the door, panting wildly as with a smug grin, Cormac disentangled himself from under her leg. “Maybe you were right about not getting on your knees,” he said, coming up to his feet with a groan.

Una pushed herself from the door and threw her arms around his neck, startling him. “No,” she said, between desperate kisses, tasting herself on his lips. “You were right,” she kissed his neck. “You were right. I want to -”

She slid down his body onto the floor, brushing her fingers along his cock. She panted as she looked up at him with wide eyes. It was more than just quid-pro-quo - she wanted to be of service - to make him see just how good she could make him feel.

“Oh, fuck,” he breathed, watching her fingers work his belt. Just as she had unfastened it, they heard footsteps coming along the corridor and both looked at each other in alarm. “Oh, fuck!” he said again, bitterly through gritted teeth.

They heard the footsteps pause outside the door and Una quickly scrambled to her feet as the doorknob turned. She took one look at Cormac’s panicked face, extracted her wand and pointed it at him, casting a silent disillusionment charm.

His body turned invisible, just as the door opened.

“Miss Montague?” asked Professor Slughorn’s voice. Una squinted into the light cast from the lit tip of his wand on her pink face. “Miss Montague, are you alright? I thought I heard-”

“Yes,” she said, quickly, pretending to wipe a tear from her eye. “Crying. I’m sorry, Professor. I just needed a moment alone after that conversation with Ginny Weasley.”

He pouted sympathetically. “Now, now. You mustn’t let these things bother you.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Come on, then. You wouldn’t want any of the Prefects on corridor duty to catch their Head Girl out of bed after hours, would you?” he chuckled. “A poor example for them!”

Una nodded. Her eyes tried to find Cormac’s faint disillusioned outline but she was glad when she couldn’t see or hear him. She made to follow Professor Slughorn out of the classroom but paused, realising she wasn’t wearing any underwear. Her eyes scanned the floor in a frenzy, looking for them.

Slughorn paused at the door. “Everything alright, m’dear?”

“Yes, I just thought I’d dropped my… handkerchief,” she said pointedly into the darkness.

And so, she followed Professor Slughorn out of the classroom and they parted ways when they reached the end of the corridor so he could return to his office and she could go in the direction of the Slytherin common room. Una could distinctly feel the sensation of wet stickiness coating her inner thighs as she walked. 

When she had sneaked back into the dormitory, she was relieved to find Sabine and Meredith already asleep. She crept into bed, sliding under the duvet and wondering whether Cormac had made it back to Gryffindor Tower undetected - but more importantly, whether he’d had the common sense to find her underwear so as not to leave any evidence of their encounter.

Chapter 4: Skill

[2iced2coffee]

What’s Up, Danger? snippet

Jason slowed his bike to a stop at the curb outside Sabine’s apartment building. 

Her arms looped around his torso, giving him a reassuring and thankful squeeze, and he allowed himself to sag back against her. 

She held him tighter, squeezing again and nuzzling into his shoulder, before letting go and sliding off the seat.

He pried off his helmet and followed her up the stoop to the entrance.

Sabine’s hand drifted to her pocket, pulling out her set of keys. He could tell she was stalling when she fumbled them, the sound of metal clinking together echoed in the small enclosed space.

The rosy hue on her cheekbones from the cold was pretty, he thought. 

She looked up at him with those soft brown eyes flecked with gold, and her teeth dragged over her bottom lips in a way that almost entirely unmoored him on the spot.

He almost didn’t register her slow movements, the way she breathed in and out, as if bracing herself, until he felt her hand, flushed with warmth, slide up and curl around the back of his neck. Her fingers threaded gently into his hair, fingernails lightly grazing his scalp.

Lambent green poured over her vision like the sea, and at the center, keeping her afloat, was Jason. 

Jason stopped breathing, stopped thinking. Heat flared in his chest and simmered in his veins, coursing through his body. Anticipation turned his gaze heady and soft. His pupils dilated into new moons and swallowed the remaining green sliver of his irses. 

Sabine didn’t need to guide his face towards hers, he dipped forward and low of his own volition. She stretched up on her tiptoes to meet him halfway.

She pressed a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth, where the faint taste of black coffee, cigarettes, and spice lingered. She tried not to laugh when she smelled the garlic that clung to his breath.

A pleasant shudder, warm and electric, stormed through his body. His skin tingled, hot under the place where her lips touched. His legs felt like jelly as a satisfied cloudiness swept through him.

She grinned against the swell of his cheek, feeling the scratchiness of his five o'clock shadow. 

Breaking apart, Sabine pulled back enough just to smile up at him, and the dull, distant ache in Jason’s chest eased.

She laughed as his nose knocked into hers. “Oh my god—the garlic on your breath.”

“Stop,” he groaned, tipping his forward, curling further into her space. “You’re ruining the moment—“

“I think,” she said in a sweet tone that drew him closer, “you’re the best thing I ever found in a dumpster.”

Jason snorted. “You go dumpster diving for vigilantes often?”

“No, but I’m lucky the one time I did I found one I like a lot.”

With a labored sigh, he let his head drop against her shoulder. It was entirely disarming how she was able to burrow into that hole in his chest and fill it with affection and warmth.

He grabbed her sides with his strong hands and pulled her against him. 

“You’re making it incredibly hard to drop you off and leave, you know that?”

”I’m sorry.”

”No, you’re not,” he huffed, a satisfied undertone leaking through. Just because she’d staked her claim on his heart didn’t mean he wouldn’t call out her bullshit.

A soft and breathy laugh escaped her, fogging up the air between them. She reached up and draped her arms around his shoulders and neck. 

”I’m not,” she affirmed smugly, sounding widely pleased with herself.

[whiteravengreywolf]

No Longer You - a Wolfwren fanfiction

A/N: Hello everyone! I'm back with a new Wolfwren multichapter story! This one is inspired by Agathario. Shin is a witch on the run from her coven, Sabine just came out of a magic sword Shin stole. Here is the beginning, and if you want to read the whole story, the link will be at the end!

Without a sound, Shin reached for her coven’s ancestral sword on the wall. She tugged it in her sash and left the meeting house. Outside, the morning was still gray. The sunlight was blocked by the horizon. Shin’s coven lived at the top of a mountain, and the village was usually flooded with sunlight all day long. By the time the first rays scurried through the locked shutters of her coven sisters, Shin hoped she would be very far from here.

Though she had been born in this coven, the Coven of the Great Mothers, and raised with all the other witches her age, Shin had never felt like she belonged. She didn’t know who her mother was – no one knew who their mothers were – but somehow, everyone knew that her father wasn’t one of the coven’s brothers. That he had been a human outside of the coven. That somehow, this made her weaker than the others. Shin was not weak.

Shin wrapped her cape around herself to brace herself against the cold morning air as she left the village and began her descend down the hundreds of steps to the forest below. She didn’t look back. She would not regret leaving, she knew. The narrow steps had been dug out of the mountain’s side. There was no railing. The wind sheered the stone around her. Shin held her cape more firmly, though the bottom still snapped against her ankles.

The stairs led to a cave that Shin knew she would have to traverse if she wanted off the mountain. Within was the village of the brothers. They weren’t part of the coven, technically, though they were kept around for a variety of reasons. Mostly, they spent their days hunting and gathering food. They lived in the dark bowels of the mountain. Shin could only see the fire of the torches that illuminated the little village. At first, she thought they let the torches burn through the night, then she saw movement.

She jumped to hide against the nearest house. When she peaked out, she saw one of the brothers replacing the torches, bathing the village in the new golden glow of fire. They would be off hunting soon, she assumed. She had to go now, or they might spot her. She chastised herself. She should have thought about it. She waited until the brother walked away to run past him. She tried being quiet and quick, but it was difficult. Her footsteps still echoed on the stone streets, and around the cavernous village. She did not stop, did not look back to make sure that she wasn’t being followed. Instead, she rushed to the exit.

Outside, the sun had broken past the horizon. Its orange glow blinded her. Shin had to rub her eyes a few times before she could continue her descent. At the foot of the mountain was a luscious forest that seemed to expand with no end in sight. Shin had not packed any food with her. Aside from the sword she had stolen, her only possessions were a waterskin and a knife. She would have to hunt to survive, but she was ready. Anywhere but her coven.

[jjoelswatch]

Insane to me that some people think Sabine's mini Force push was...Shin flinching/bracing herself for a Force push. No one flinches like that and that would be a weird way to brace yourself for being pushed (leaning in the direction of being pushed??). It was a mini Force push which is why Shin taunted her and told her she has no power.

[incorrectpizza]

@jacensyndullaweek is pretty much over - thank you so much to ALL the creators and commenters who made the week fun!

I didn't write as much as I would've liked but I have added quite a few entries to "First" and am calling it complete - for now. If anyone has any ideas for more entries, I'd love to continue it someday.

Fic under the cut for anyone who prefers to read here on Tumblr.

"Dada"

Hera drops the dish she’s washing the first time she hears Jacen say “Dada!”

The plate, made of child-proof plastoid, doesn’t shatter.

Her heart does.

Jacen’s sitting at the table when he says it, playing with the Tooka cat Sabine had made him out of one of Kanan’s old shirts.

Hera stares, watching every movement of Jacen’s tiny fingers. As she analyzes her son’s burbling noise, she wonders if she had heard him correctly.

Then Jacen points at the cat and exclaims “Dada!” again.

It’s all she can do to stay standing.

She inches along the wall from the kitchen to the common room, bracing herself with one hand.Sinking down onto the bench next to Jacen, she rubs the back of his hand and strokes the tooka’s ears with her fingertips.

After over a minute of excruciating silence, she tries to make sense of Jacen’s new word.

“Your tooka is made out of Dada’s shirt.” The raw truth. Nothing more, nothing less.

“Did Sabine tell you that?”

In response to her rhetorical question, Jacen nods while burbling and babbling “Dada” and “Mama” both several more times.

Using the Force

The first time Hera sees Jacen use the Force, she breaks.

She's suspected it for a few weeks - how else could Jacen have retrieved the plushie he tossed from his crib? - but she hoped, prayed she would be wrong. Having a normal child would be easier. Safer.

She wouldn't have to worry about him getting delusions of grandeur and going off to fight a war single-handedly, or dying on some backwater world protecting a few innocents. But watching his favorite green Tooka flying across the room, she can picture a lightsaber hurtling to his hand someday, in some stupid, noble act.

She snatches it away from him, and holds it tight, but he wails and pulls at it again, harder. She can feel the toy pulsing, and it’s one of the strangest sensations she’s ever felt. She loosens her grip and the Tooka returns to Jacen, who immediately returns to giggling.

Seeing his smile only makes it worse. She can’t breathe, can’t stay. Stumbling into Kanan’s old cabin, she clutches one of his shirts and sobs into it. Praying and ranting to her Ryl gods and the Force itself, she pleads for her son and mourns her dream of a peaceful life for him. 

Flying the Ghost

“Mom, mom, can I fly?” 

Hera has absolutely no recollection of the first time Jacen asked her, begged her , to let him take the pilot’s chair. He was no more than three, and in subsequent months and years, the question seems to echo throughout the Ghost every day, whether they’re together or apart.

She does, however, always treasure and remember the first day she finally relents to his pleas. He’s five years old and inquisitive as ever.  They’re taking a joyride after the victory at Endor, a rare reprieve from the fight. Hera has seen enough to know it’s not over - and might not be in her lifetime. But the joyous atmosphere has permeated her so thoroughly she lets herself imagine, for one night, that it is.

When Jacen asks once again, “Can I have a turn, mom?”, she tells him,  “Yes, but you have to be careful, love.” She lets him clamber up on her lap, and he shrieks and giggles. After he’s over his little fit of joy, she lets him “fly” - gently placing his hands above her own.

She loosens her grip, letting him steer the ship. He circles and spins and she gulps down bile for as long as she can before gently retaking control of the Ghost.

"Does this mean I'm a pilot now?" 

She rustles his green hair and places a light kiss on top. "You still have a long way to go, love." 

Date

Jacen goes on his first date when he’s sixteen. Hera gives him a ride to Ryloth to spend a quiet evening with a girl he’s been friends with since the first summer he spent with Cham. 

Hera doesn’t know her well, but she’s heard all about her from Jacen. 

Her name is Melyni, but her friends call her Mel, and she’s seventeen, with purple-pink skin, a few light freckles and a bubbly laugh. She just graduated from high school, early, and she’s leaving Ryloth soon for university. 

Hera walks with Jacen as far as Central Square. From a nearby shop, she watches as he knocks and waits and shakes Mel’s father’s hand. They walk hand-in-hand down to a traditional Twi’leki restaurant, then disappear. She buys a few meilooruns and walks a few blocks to Cham’s little cottage on the outskirts of town. They spend the evening reminiscing of their own young loves.

When Hera makes it back to the Ghost , Jacen’s still not there. She and Chopper wait up until dangerously close to curfew. Jacen comes back with a glint in his eyes she remembers from Kanan’s youth - and a smudge of red on his lip.

She offers him a napkin and he stares at it for several seconds before blushing a brilliant green.

Steps

Jacen’s first steps are not from mother to father, but mother to droid. He’s been testing his legs for weeks, hands gripping onto ledges and chairs. Hera gives him her hands and he wraps his fist tight around two fingers.

And then he takes his first wobbly, independent steps.

Chopper’s on the other side of the Ghost ’s common room, waving his manipulators and beeping some concerns about the ship. Jacen glances over at the droid and wriggles free of Hera’s grasp. He toddles precariously a meter or so, then leans up against Chopper, hands on his dome, and looks back at her, grinning. 

Hera swears she feels a presence beside her, light and joyful, and looks over, half expecting to see Kanan standing there. There’s nothing, of course, but, somehow, she knows he’s watching. Turning back around, she watches as Chopper waves his manipulators, and Jacen claps and shrieks. Jacen’s excitement causes him to grow unsteady again, and he falls flat onto his bottom.

Hera scoops him up, tickles him, and praises him. And for once, she doesn’t cry, doesn’t mourn, just laughs and enjoys her son.

Meeting Ezra

Hera’s sons meet for the first time when they’re six and twenty-four. Ezra returns home with little fanfare, just a hastily-thrown together family dinner. He’s shocked to discover Jacen, but delighted. No longer the baby of their ragtag family, he scoops Jacen up in his arms as Hera tells him that yes, he’s Kanan’s son - a last gift to them from lover and father and friend. 

After the initial surprise wears off, Ezra swiftly steps into his new big brother shoes.

The years have made him more confident. He walks with a bit of humble swagger - not the childish attempt he’d done at fourteen, but real charm. He and Sabine laugh and joke and Jacen begs to see his new lightsaber, which Ezra wisely locks in a cabinet on the Ghost after briefly showing the boy how it lights up. They spend the rest of the day playing games, sparring with practice sticks and meditating.

At the end of the night, they all gather around the common room in Ezra’s tower, Ezra telling story after story from the last six years. Jacen sits scrunched between Hera and Zeb, neck craning over to watch Ezra until his head finally flops onto Hera’s lap. Sabine grabs a tie-dyed blanket and stretches it over him before returning to her seat at Ezra’s side.

“And then, Thrawn said-”

Hera feels herself slowly drifting off to sleep as Ezra’s words blur together. Zeb’s arm creeps around her and he offers Hera a sympathetic grin, inviting her to rest her head on his shoulder. She surrenders, unwilling to disturb Jacen - or leave her family, just this once.

In her last moments of wakefulness, Hera hears a distant wolf howl.

[toxichem]

✧･ﾟ ——— ❛ @galaxythixf. ❪ deadlands meme . ❫ 'and then you get there and BA BAM! you shoot her in the face!' - Phoenix

———ACIDIC GREEN EYES SOFTEN THE SLIGHTEST IN EXASPERATED FONDNESS EVEN AS SHE BRACES HERSELF. his enthusiasm , his simplistic take on the upcoming mission—twisted as it may be , to see his light yet undimmed warmed what little of her shriveled heart still beat . if anything , that was exactly why she was benching him . sabine had noticed—read , heard , seen—he wasn ' t taking this seriously . sure , half the agents had so - called ❛  magic powers ,  ❜ but that didn ' t make them immortal . sage ' s healing only did so much , omen ' s shadowy body tearing him apart more with every teleport , even phoenix ' s own second chance a pale mockery of true revival .

      ❪ she couldn ' t be the one to send him out on that mission that dimmed that light , that broke his heart . couldn ' t be the one to snuff his flame , not when she so relied on his warmth to claw her way back to a sense of normality when she came back to base . she couldn ' t . ❫

      ❪ & yet , she couldn ' t bear to have liam be the one to do so , either . it was why she stepped in to hand out those missions , the ones that everyone knew those taking it might not return from . her hands were already blood - stained , what ' s a little more ? friend or foe didn ' t matter , the shade of red stayed the same . liam ' s heart would not be able to handle the heartbreak , but her ' s had been shattered already . ❫

      ❝  yes .  ❞ for a word so short , it held a remarkable weight as it fell from her tongue , seemingly clattering to the ground in front of her rather than floating about her head for how it silenced the atmosphere in the briefing room . ❝  that is the plan—& why you are staying here . while that is the over - all plan , it requires more stealth , & has very high stakes .  ❞ clicking off her tablet , she stood , abruptly turning away from him—avoiding seeing his reaction , though she could picture it : confusion first , bleeding into the next , be it anger or disbelief or sorrow . ❝  tala has requested you help her with movement training , she said your flames are a challenge to navigate around on the field , & wanted to be able to work with you without getting burned .  ❞ a lie , heavy , but no more heavy than that first ❛  yes ,  ❜ one that would keep them safer for a while yet .

      ❪ forgive me , jaime , i have sins yet to atone for , & your light is what keeps me from being drowned by them . ❫

[femmefighter]

This artwork helped fuel a little one-shot called Papaver Rhoeas, full piece can be read on AO3 here.

Gentle, stealthy hands made fast work of unclipping Sabine's greaves before rolling up the flight suit leg. As Ahsoka exposed the knee, they could both see it was an angry red and swollen. Despite the Togruta always having warm hands, they felt cool against the temperature of the injury. Sabine watched the older woman place both hands over the kneecap, and silently prayed to herself that the contact wasn't making her blush. Ahsoka closed her eyes for a moment, and Sabine swore she could feel a soft, tingling sensation mingle through the throbbing pain. After a few moments, Ahsoka turned away, rummaging through the small first-aid backpack she carried on the dismounted mission.

"I think you've done a meniscus tear, Sabine," she explained, pulling out a small can of bacta spray and what looked like a couple of Mandalorian vambraces. "You'll need a proper medical facility to help fix that. I'm afraid the bacta spray we have will only offer a bit of relief. It's best you try not to walk on it." Damn it, Sabine thought. Like hell I'm about to let Ahsoka and the other pathfinders stretcher-carry me back to the T-6. "I can make it back to the ship at least," Sabine offered, but the doubt in her mind laced through her voice and she knew the older woman would pick up on it. "No, you won't," Ahsoka admonished softly as she applied the spray over the offending knee. The pain reduced, and the swelling seemed to subside a bit, but it wouldn't hold up to having her weight put on it. Ahsoka put away the bacta and reached for the strange vambraces, "that's why I brought these." With a push of a button, metal rots shot out from each vambrace, revealing themselves to be Mandalorian rehab crutches.

The look of surprise at the now-familiar devices must have shown on Sabine's face, as she heard the rumble of a laugh from Ahsoka's chest before she spoke. "You're not my first injury-prone, stubbornly bullish Mandalorian I've worked with, Sabine."  Now Sabine really did blush. She must be referring to the Lady Bo-Katan Kryze, she pondered to herself.  She slotted her hands into the thin but sturdy steel, and as her hands found the grips, metal rings appeared around the tops of the vambraces to clasp around her upper forearms, adjusting to her size for comfort and support. Like all good Mandalorian tech, they were self-adapting, and the lengths of the crutches adjusted to Sabine's height automatically. Ahsoka stripped the rest of Sabine’s armour, loading it into her backpack so the Mandalorian wasn’t further weighted down. “Don’t worry, the others will cover us,” the Togruta hushed aside Sabine’s worries at being so exposed. Ahsoka got to her feet, standing over Sabine, a hand still hovering over her shoulder. "Are you ready to try and stand?"

A third nod was given, and Sabine braced herself with the crutches, using them to dig into the ground so her good leg could propel her up and let her bad leg simply come along for the ride. Ahsoka's hands were never far from being ready to support Sabine if she needed it, she was so in tune to sensing where they hovered. She smiled to herself; Ahsoka was letting her be stubbornly independent, but always ready to help if Sabine overextended herself.

It was awkward, trying to coordinate her good limb, her bad limb, and the metal legs of the vambraces. Sabine tried not to wince every time she accidentally bumped her bad leg and stoked the fire under her kneecap. She could feel Ahsoka's eyes on her, and as the other pathfinders gathered the rest of their equipment, Needle relieving Sabine of the entrenching tool she'd borrowed, they started to make their way back to the T-6. The pathfinders spread out, adopting a protective circle around the Mandalorian as they quietly navigated the subterrain of the planet's forest. Ahsoka stayed with Sabine, spacing be damned, and after a while of seeing Sabine wince for more times than the Togruta could handle, she offered an arm for Sabine to lean on.

"Let me help, Sabine," she quietly whispered, so her voice wouldn't travel far enough for the other pathfinders to hear. Sabine only hesitated for a moment, before letting Ahsoka snake her arm through her own. The willingness to let Ahsoka help her no longer confused Sabine, and she relished in the feel of the Togruta pressed into her side as they positioned themselves. They took a few ginger steps together, working out their rhythm, before being able to fall into a steady pace, faster than what Sabine was able to achieve before, and with a lot less strain on her knee.

[cyarskj1899]

GMA host TJ Holmes’ ex Marilee Fiebig hires second lawyer as she gears up for nasty divorce after his ‘affair’

Jessica Finn

Updated: 15:48 ET, Jan 24 2023

THE Good Morning America host's estranged wife has hired a second powerhouse attorney as she gears up for a nasty divorce following his reported affair with co-host.

The U.S. Sun can exclusively reveal that Marilee has brought on Fara Rodriguez - who recently made partner at her firm Philips Nizer LLP in Manhattan.

5Marilee Fiebig has bolstered her legal team as she braces for a nasty divorce from her estranged husband, GMA3 host, TJ HolmesCredit: Getty

5Marilee was said to have been blindsided by TJ's alleged affair with fellow host, Amy RobachCredit: Instagram/Marilee Fiebig

The move comes as she faces off against suspended GMA3 host TJ following his reported affair with co-host Amy Robach.

Both TJ, 45, and now-girlfriend Amy, 49, were taken off the air and sidelined at ABC two months ago, as the network investigates the co-host lovers' workplace conduct. 

Marilee, who is an attorney herself, brought Fara onto her team late last week - just one day after her attorney Stephanie F. Lehman, who is also a partner at the firm, demanded that TJ file his official divorce complaint.

Fara's impressive resume boasts over a decade of experience in handling various intricacies of divorce and family law.

Her bio reads: "​​Fara is adept at representing clients during this distressing time in their lives by compassionately and confidently finding solutions to the complex challenges they often face."

MARILEE SPEAKS OUT

Marilee's no-nonsense legal team has taken the high-profile case head-on. 

Earlier this month, her lead attorney Stephanie told The U.S. Sun: "During the holiday season and in light of the challenging times, Marilee's sole focus has remained on the overall best interest of her nine-year-old daughter."

"To that end, T.J.'s lawyer and I have been working together to move their divorce forward privately, expeditiously, and as amicably as possible.

Most read in Entertainment

GLOVES OFF 

GMA's Amy & TJ 'are ready to file suit' against ABC for their suspension & probe

WHOOPI CUSHION? 

The View hosts left red-faced after loud fart noise disrupts live broadcast

NO HOLZ-ING BACK 

James Holzhauer says angry Jeopardy! champ 'should get lifetime ban'

WHAT A CROC 

Kris' boyfriend Corey slammed for flaunting $40K Birkin bag in new photos

"Notwithstanding, we continue to be disappointed by T.J.'s lack of discretion, respect, and sensitivity toward Marilee and the party's daughter."

She concluded: "Marilee has been touched by the outpouring of support and looks forward to a new beginning in this new year."

Stephanie's biography boasts her experience in "representing high-net-worth individuals in contested and uncontested matrimonial actions and child-related matters."

TJ FILES FOR DIVORCE 

TJ filed for divorce on Wednesday, December 28 in New York, after 12 years of marriage.

TJ hired attorney Robert H. Moses of Moses Ziegelman Richards & Notaro, LLP. In December 2022, he was named NYC's "Lawyer of the Year" in Best Lawyers: The Family Law Issue 2023.

He received 4.8 out of five stars on Martindale-Hubbell ratings. He's also been featured on Super Lawyers, an exclusive list of top-rated attorneys, since 2006.

Per his attorney profile: "Rob is known for his pragmatic approach to the law, helping countless clients resolve their family disputes economically, thoughtfully, and fairly.

"His clients range from celebrities and high-net-worth individuals in financial, publishing, sports, and other fields to those of more modest means."

Rob joined the boutique matrimonial law firm as a partner in 2011.

Their office is located in the Empire State Building in Manhattan. 

The former couple shares one child together, a nine-year-old daughter named Sabine.

TJ also has two children, Brianna and Jaiden, from his previous marriage.

GROWING ALLEGATIONS

Last week, the DailyMail reported that TJ had an alleged affair with an ABC intern 13 years his junior early on in his marriage to Marilee. 

It was also alleged he had slept with an ABC producer before his romance with Amy.

While Amy was reportedly aware of TJ's alleged relationship with ABC producer Natasha Singh, a source told The U.S. Sun that she was "blindsided" by the full extent of the star's other alleged office romps.

EXIT TALKS

As The U.S. Sun previously reported, Amy and TJ are unofficially out at GMA3 and the pair believe they are out from their jobs at ABC entirely. 

Last week a well-placed insider claimed mediation talks are scheduled for this week with their lawyers, ABC's attorneys, and the network's top brass to hammer out the pair's exit package. 

However, another source said while mediation is in the works, they weren't aware of anything scheduled just yet.

"All parties are willing to mediate, but there is just no guarantee that mediation will be successful," the second insider added.

Another source with knowledge of negotiations added that Amy and TJ's attorneys are absolutely in close contact with the network's legal team.

"They are all working through strategies to make the hosts comfortable enough so that the network can move on from this as quietly as possible," the source said.

5Sources said that TJ fears he is on the chopping block at the network following a slew of allegations about inter-office dalliancesCredit: Getty

5It was revealed that Amy and TJ were involved in an alleged affair while co-hosting GMA3Credit: Getty

5Amy and her estranged husband Andrew Shue are said to be working on their divorce, though nothing has been filed as of yetCredit: Getty

[mlwritersguild]

and I do know why but with you I'd dance, by @alexseanchai

Based on Taylor Swift's Fearless (Taylor's Version) (submitted by @2manyfandoms2count)

AO3 link; Children of Characters, Conventions, Cosplayers, Voice Actor Adrien Agreste, Identity Reveal, Reunited and It Feels So Good, Disabled Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir, Autistic Child Character

Summary:

Adrien hasn't been in Paris since his father's arrest. But as a panelist at Paris Comic Con, the first stop for him and his foster kids is of course the bakery Marinette and her family still live above.

——————————

Louis dashes ahead to hold the hotel door for Emma and Adrien. The sun is just coming out after rain left the streets enough of a mirror that the city seems to glow. Some of the dark spots on Emma's sneakers will be from splashing through puddles—whoops, make that already are from puddles. Adrien shrugs and clips the umbrella handle to the newly neon blue loop on his backpack, smiling contentedly in a way Louis is pretty sure he's never actually seen before.

"This way, Em," Adrien calls. Emma scurries back and bounces up onto Louis's back—oof!—and Adrien braces them with his walking stick until Emma's done wiggling. "You good?" he asks Louis.

Louis shifts one of Emma's hands from his neck to his shoulder. "I'm good."

Adrien leads them along a couple of blocks, that contented expression flickering through wistfulness, and stops outside a pastry shop, his face falling. "Of course they're closed, it's August," he says. "I don't know what I expected."

Louis considers the logo, a��T and an S between two wheat stalks. "Is this Tom and Sabine's?"

"Sweetest creations in the world," Adrien says, nodding, then plasters a happier expression over his sad smile. "Come on, we're almost to the Métro station."

----------

Hugo runs down the stairs, then back up again because Maman isn't fast enough with her bags. One of the bags has Hugo's dragon wings and if Maman let Hugo wear them instead of carrying them herself then she wouldn't be slowed down as much. Hugo told her that before they left and she said only if Hugo was really sure he wasn't going to fall and break his wings. He hasn't tripped once today!

—He should learn not to think things that tempt chance like that.

The kids who run over to help are dressed like Ladybug and Chat Noir, though the costumes are not very good, not like the ones Maman makes: the Black girl his age with black pigtails is wearing black dots sewn onto a red T-shirt and red jeans and drawn on red sneakers, and the older white boy with a blond ponytail is wearing a neon green paw print sewn onto a black T-shirt with black jeans and sneakers and a long enough black belt it's a tail. This Chat Noir looks at Hugo's hands (unskinned) and jeans knees (wet but not torn) and nods. Hugo flips his hood back up because superheroes aren't supposed to make sure little monsters are okay, but when his crocodile-dragon hoodie has its head off his head then he looks like a little boy.

"Are you going to Comic Con too?" this Ladybug asks. "Daddy says Paris has the best superheroes but we haven't seen any yet because we live in London unless Daddy is traveling for work and then he takes us with him. We met a dragon superhero in Shanghai once but I know you're not dressed up like her because she's a pink dragon."

"I'm Little Fang!" Hugo sweeps his arms up like they're wings. This would open his real wings if they weren't in Maman's garment bag.

The blond man on the bench with a Chat Noir shirt and staff laughs. Hugo glares at him and pointedly turns back to this Ladybug and this Chat Noir.

The train arrives. Maman jogs the last bit of the way to Hugo and onto the train, and holds the door because the blond man can't run.

----------

Emma sticks close to Louis, twisting a Rubik's cube this way and that. Daddy is on a panel right now, and Louis wanted to look at the art and stuff for sale, and Emma decided walking sounded better than sitting but maybe Emma should have sat through the panel anyway. People in the panel room stay quiet to hear Daddy and the other Heartbeat Rhythm Magic voice actors and writers. People in the dealer's room are loud. Emma doesn't want to hear all about His Majesty's Guard ship wars or Rue 63rd diverse representation. (Whatever those are, other than important to Louis.)

"I heard Adrien Agreste is here," says one of the customers.

"Is he?" someone else says. "I'm surprised he has the nerve to show his face in France."

—Or that. Emma does not want to hear that. The edges of the cube bite into her palms.

"Come on, he was just a kid too," says a third person.

"Who was living with him! There is no way he didn't know. None."

"That's a lie!" Emma shouts, shaking.

"Emma, let's go," Louis says, tugging her shoulder.

Emma doesn't move. "Nobody gets to tell lies about Daddy!"

"…fuck," Louis mutters, in Mandarin like that will mean Emma doesn't know he said a bad word, and gets out his phone.

"Listen, kid," says one of the other adults in slow English like they think she won't understand if they keep speaking fast French, "when you know someone is doing bad things, you need to tell people. Even if the person doing bad things is your daddy. Not telling people when someone is doing bad things is doing a bad thing yourself."

"Telling lies is a bad thing!" Emma shouts. "You're telling lies right now!"

"He didn't know," says another kid. The purple-dragon-hoodie kid from the train, now with wings, whose mommy kept looking at Daddy and pretending she wasn't. He's letting go of the wing handles in case he has to fight. "Ladybug knows he didn't know."

"You were not even born yet," says one of the adults. "How would you know?"

Because my daddy is Chat Noir and he told me almost everything and Plagg told me everything else is too big with too many secrets for Emma to tell. Emma shrieks. Dragon costume kid shrieks too.

"Hugo!" calls another adult. The mommy from the train. Some people move out of the way of her big poofy sparkly princess dress. She drops down by Emma and dragon costume kid. "Hugo, there you are, you can't run off on me like that—"

"They're being mean to her, Maman!" Hugo says, ducking out of his mommy's hug. "They want to be mean to her papa, too, just because they're Agrestes!"

The lady stiffens. "Well that's rude of them," she tells Emma and Hugo and maybe also Louis, loud enough for all the adults to hear too. "Did your papa help you make your costume? I know Ladybug will be impressed."

Emma bursts into tears.

----------

"The more hoops Judge Malice can make the girls jump through, the harder a time they'll have with the entire rest of their lives," Adrien explains. "Stressed people make more mistakes. So of course he's going to set up all the hoops he can—"

Louis 🤸: Someone in the dealer's room recognized you by your old name, Emma's upset Adrien 🐈⬛: On my way

It is not, of course, easy to leave a convention panel unobtrusively when one is one of the panelists, so Adrien doesn't try. "Excuse me, minor family emergency," he says, snags his backpack and staff, and bolts.

Naturally the dealer's room is packed. "Plagg, see if you can see them without being seen?" Adrien murmurs.

"Hey, Emma's papa!" shouts a kid. The same kid with the akumatized Fang costume from this morning. Who is currently above the crowds' heads, flapping his wings to get attention. "Hey! Emma's papa!"

Adrien snorts. "Never mind."

Plagg dives back into Adrien's shirt, snickering.

Adrien allows himself to radiate fury—never difficult anymore—and the crowds part before him.

The tiny Fang cosplayer is perched on Louis's shoulders and quiets at Adrien's approach. Emma is sobbing in the arms of a painfully familiar woman, though maybe it's only the long black hair over that precise shade of pink ball gown. Adrien looms, thumping his staff on the floor for dramatic effect; almost everyone flinches back.

"Who made my daughter cry?"

"Don't worry," says the pink princess, says Ladybug, "I memorized the names to report for breaking the con harassment policy."

Then Marinette looks up.

----------

That's Chat Noir. She last saw him bleeding from the left cheek and left leg; now his weight is on his right leg and his silvery walking stick, and a scar cuts through his golden beard. And no one else would think to add neon blue piping to black jeans, backpack, and 'Meow You're Talking' official Chat Noir merchandise shirt, with a little neon blue umbrella dangling from the backpack. No one else would even know that said anything.

That's Adrien. She was wondering, on the train. The beard is new sometime in the last seven years.

She wants to say I love you, I miss you, why did you leave me, tell me who you love so I can love them too. What comes out of Marinette's mouth is, "Nice of you to drop in."

Adrien snorts. "Louis is hanging on to his composure by a thread—" (The boy Hugo's climbing on doesn't look distressed, but if Adrien knows him then Marinette will take his word for it. And Chat Noir really did start the puns within seconds of their first meeting, didn't he?) "—so let's go somewhere Emma can calm down easier?"

(Emma and Louis. Is Marinette sure she isn't hallucinating.)

"Afternoon panel," mumbles Louis.

Adrien shrugs, bracing himself with the walking stick to try to take Emma from Marinette. "If the Guardian Treasures fandom objects to Adrien Graham missing their panel today, they can take it up with the lovely people who upset my daughter."

A bunch of the people around them abruptly have somewhere else to be.

----------

Emma mostly calms down from Marinette carrying her to the nearest park, and is content after that to play tag with Louis and Hugo, though Marinette insists on removing Hugo's wings first. "I'm still a dragon even when I'm just a crocodile," he explains to Adrien.

"Cute kid," Adrien says, for complete and utter lack of idea where to begin. "How long did it take to make that costume?"

"I didn't keep track," Marinette says, digging through her bag. She makes a pleased noise and extracts a picnic blanket to spread on the damp bench. The blanket itself ought to have, but didn't, take up most of the space in the bag itself, a trick Adrien has seen Marinette do many times and never once thought to question. "He decided he wanted to be a dragon protecting Princess Maman …six months ago, I think?"

"December," says Tikki. Adrien jumps, even though he was half expecting her to chime in at some point. "You didn't ask about starting his next costume until February."

"Oh, so it is about that deadbeat." Marinette gestures Adrien toward the blanketed bench. "This is what I get for making sure Hugo isn't there when I go yell at his father. This man's sixth child is in progress and he refuses to admit he has any. Or to go treat the infection he has now given to at least six women."

Adrien winces. He really, truly cannot understand some people. "Let me know if you need any help."

Marinette considers that as she swoops her skirts out of the way to sit beside him. "How long are you planning to be in Paris? Because the real Chat Noir interrupting his seductive Chat Noir impersonation would be hilarious."

"Seductive Chat Noir impersonation," Adrien repeats, disbelieving.

She shrugs, hugging herself. "I was eighteen and drunk, and you weren't there."

Oh. Adrien can probably pinpoint the date of Hugo's conception, now. "Suddenly that one rambling voice message from my Lady makes a lot more sense."

Plagg cackles. Marinette turns pink and looks away.

Adrien ever-so-casually drapes his arm along the back of the bench behind her. "I missed you too," he admits, quietly.

"You never called." She's trembling. "Never texted, never emailed, never anything. Not any of us."

"I what," says Adrien blankly. "I didn't—Chat Noir never called Ladybug back because I thought you'd hate me for never noticing anything was wrong at home, but I— And any of you could have tried calling me!"

"…I guess you didn't just toss your phone in a drawer and get a new number." Marinette sighs. "We did try. Nino, Alya, and I tried to visit once, too, but your aunt said you didn't want to see us."

Adrien growls. No one had ever told him his friends were in London. And it's suddenly occurring to him that his aunt saying if he wanted to visit his father, then she'd make sure he could stay in France, but if he didn't she wouldn't, had no mention of her being willing to let him spend time with his friends either way. He says, "I knew I should have just dyed my hair and run straight back home."

Marinette tips sideways, so now he has an armful of beautiful woman. "Why didn't you?" she asks.

"Well, first I thought my friends all hated me—" Now Marinette growls. "—and then Louis's biological parents decided to prove he ran away for good reason and the only thing I could do that wasn't kidnap him out of the country was get set up as his foster parent, and then Emma's emergency foster placement turned long-term, and…" He sighs. "And no one is even wrong to hate me for not stopping Father sooner, and if I'm not in Paris, I never have to deal with that."

"If they aren't going to hate me for that, they aren't allowed to hate you."

There's a weight to the words, just as with many things Ladybug has said. She wills the world to be this way, and it rearranges itself so as not to disappoint her.

"Do you want to get lunch together?" Marinette asks. "There's a new dim sum place you might like, or if you're up for climbing stairs, my parents would love to feed you."

"They would?" Existing dinner reservations who?

----------

"So when you said 'sweetest creations in the world', you meant her," says Louis knowingly.

Marinette drops her key, face burning. Adrien laughs; Marinette is sincerely glad he's amused.

The wind whips up, carrying fresh warm rain. Adrien lets go of her to fumble for his umbrella, which closes on them both almost the moment he's opened it, and honestly the only reason Marinette doesn't kiss him right there in the doorway is she's not sure she'll be able to stop.

[sariahsue]

A Cat of Their Own - Ch 9

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8]

Sabine closed the register and waved goodbye to the last customers as Marinette shuffled into the bakery. A cold gust of wind blew in with her, and the door chime tinkled.

"How was school?"

"Fine, Mama," Marinette said, dropping her backpack on the floor next to the counter. It was Friday afternoon, and business was slow. Only the two of them and Tom were left in the bakery, but Marinette checked over her shoulder anyway before opening her purse and sliding a cookie off the counter and into her purse for Tikki. "Can you text Cat Noir and ask if he can play some video games?"

"Don't you have some homework to do?" Tom asked, poking his head through the kitchen door. A small cloud of flour puffed off his hands as he clapped them on his apron.

"No. We have two tests on Monday, so we're just studying this weekend instead. I've already got a study session planned with Alya."

That was one of the many things that had changed since Marinette's discovery that Adrien liked someone else. She used to have a study group with Alya, Nino, and Adrien (that she'd insisted on calling "study dates"), but the group had been split in two, and Marinette's grades were suffering for it. Or maybe that was just the heartbreak. Sabine sent the message, and Cat Noir texted back quickly.

"He said he's sorry, but he has fencing practice. He can play in an hour or so. Is that okay? Marinette?"

Marinette was staring at her, wide-eyed and unseeing. "Fencing?" she asked faintly. "He fences?"

"Why?" Tom asked, concerned. He wiped his hands one final time and leaned toward her.

"Fencing and Mandarin," Marinette said, her forehead scrunched in concentration. "Has he said anything about basketball? Or piano or a job he doesn't like?"

This sounded like identity information. Sabine looked up at Tom before answering. He looked as worried as she felt. "I'm not sure about basketball or a job, but he's mentioned piano lessons before."

"He's been playing for years," Tom added. "Are you-"

Tom's voice faltered at Marinette's reaction. She swayed on the spot and looked like she was about to be sick.

"Are you feeling well, sweetheart?" If she truly was figuring out his identity, why was she looking so upset? She racked her own memory for someone Marinette would know with those traits and came up empty. Was it someone bad?

"Fine. It's just a lot of coincidences." She reached for her purse and took out her phone and started swiping through her contacts. "He can't really be the same person. Can I see your phone?"

"What are you going to do?" asked Tom, handing it over.

"I've got to be wrong, but I have to check. If I don't- I just need to get this crazy idea out of my head." Her voice became softer and softer until it died away as she scrolled through his contact list. She stopped when she found the entry for Catson. "There's no way. It's just a lot of coincidences." Her finger hovered over the screen a few more seconds, like she was afraid of what she might find. "I'm just proving it's not true before it drives me nuts. That's all."

Sabine wasn't sure if Marinette was even speaking to them at this point. Even though she'd insisted it was fine, babbling like this was never a good sign.

An identity reveal was one of Marinette's greatest fears. It didn't make any sense to Sabine. And she reminded herself that it didn't matter. Whatever happened, she would listen and be responsive to whatever Marinette thought was distressing.

"I have to be wrong," Marinette whispered, and she punched open the contact and held up her own phone for comparison, careful to keep both screens hidden from view so they couldn't see the name she was looking at. Her eyes flicked back and forth between the two numbers, steadily growing wider, her face more panicked.

"Honey?" Sabine asked. She braced for impact.

"THAT'S NOT POSSIBLE!" Marinette practically threw Tom's phone back at him and bolted up the stairway, screaming incoherently.

Tikki stayed behind. "Everything is fine," she said, flying in front of them when they made to follow Marinette up the stairs and into their apartment.

"Fine?" they asked together.

"She's just surprised." The kwami floated lazily through the air, antennae bobbing slowly. "This is wonderful, really. I've been waiting for this since you traded phone numbers! And now it's here!" Her voice, normally squeaky, rose even higher in pitch.

"Should we go check on her anyway?" Tom asked. A customer walked in right at that moment, bell chiming happily, and Tikki dove out of sight behind the counter.

"I'll go talk to her," Sabine said, patting the register absently. Tikki followed closely, gliding along the floor out of sight.

Marinette wasn't in the living room or the bathroom, so Sabine knocked softly on the trapdoor that led to her bedroom. When no one answered, she pushed it open and peeked inside. Marinette lay on her back across her chaise, head buried under a small pink pillow. That was a good sign. If she'd wanted to be alone, she would have gone to the balcony. She was looking for someone to talk to. Sabine let herself in and sat down on the floor next to her.

"I knew texting was a bad idea," Marinette said in a muffled voice.

"Everything's fine, Marinette," Tikki said, flitting up to stroke the tips of her hair. "You'll see. It's not so bad."

Sabine frowned. Had she sounded like that just a few days ago? Dismissive?

"I know who he is," Marinette said, ignoring the comment. "And now I have to tell him that I figured it out. This changes everything!"

Sabine saw her opening. "Everything? Really?"

"YES!" Marinette wailed. "I'll never see him the same way again!"

"Does it change the fact that you're a good team?"

Marinette paused. "Well, no, but-"

If she'd had his contact in her phone, it meant that they were at least on speaking terms as civilians, which gave Sabine another idea. "Does it change that you're friends in or out of the mask?"

"No." She flopped onto her stomach and buried her face into the pillow.

"Or that you want to protect each other? That he is, in your own words, your 'favorite dork'?"

Marinette had no response for these questions, which left a chance for Tikki to sneak into the conversation. "Does it make you like him less?"

Sabine watched as one half of Marinette's left cheek, the only part of her face she could see, went bright red. Tikki had known which question to ask, apparently.

"Change is always scary," Sabine said, undoing Marinette's pigtails so she could stroke her hair. That had always calmed her down as a child. It usually worked on the teenager, as well. "But it can be scary in a good way sometimes." Tikki nodded her approval of that sentiment but kept quiet, and Sabine was grateful for the silent backup.

After a few minutes of hair stroking, Marinette seemed to have calmed down enough for coherent conversation again.

"Do you know him well?" Sabine asked. "The boy under the mask?" She had his phone number, so the answer was probably yes.

"I thought I did," Marinette said, turning her head to face her mother. It didn't look like she'd been crying. Perhaps Tikki had been right. She wasn't upset, just in shock. Marinette took a deep breath and closed her eyes before continuing. "But I got so many things wrong about him. About both of them!"

"Like what?" Sabine asked.

"Like everything! I thought Cat Noir was just this big, showy goofball."

"He does come off that way sometimes," Sabine said. "Does he not act that way as a civilian?"

Marinette shook her head. "Huh. He's been texting you two this whole time. Civilian him, I mean. I thought he'd been texting that girl he likes..."

"Do you know who the girl is?" Sabine asked.

"That..." Marinette said. "That girl is..." She picked the pillow back up, and buried her head underneath it, shrieking quietly into the chaise cushion. Tikki was almost batted into the corner of the room by her flailing feet.

A loud knock rapped at the trapdoor, and Sabine deftly avoided thrashing limbs as she rose to open it.

Tom poked his head in cautiously. "I've got hot chocolate for her. How's she doing?"

"Oh, she's great!" Tikki answered, a broad smile on her face.

"Why didn't you tell me about this?!" Marinette wailed. "I told him so many stupid things!"

"And I'm sure he'll still love you."

Sabine took the tray from Tom and moved to let him in. It was heavy with five mugs of hot chocolate (Marinette always had two when she was upset), and a pile of cookies.

Despite her tantrum, Marinette was still up for eating half the pile of cookies herself. Tikki ate the other half.

Aside from staring into space with blank eyes, she looked like she was absorbing the new information. The food was a helpful distraction, and Sabine saw another opening. "So one of your greatest fears came true today," she said as Marinette worked on the final cookie. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I'm waiting for something to go wrong." Marinette spoke to the floor more than to them. "This is such a huge security risk. Some of the akumas we've faced can use mind control. We've gotten captured a few times. What if I'm forced to reveal who he is? I'm going to put him into danger!"

"That does sound terrible," Sabine said.

Marinette sat up straighter and smiled gratefully at her. "Thank you."

"Haven't you fought mind controlling akumas before?" Tom asked. "Like Zombizou?"

"Well, yeah," Marinette said, leaning into her mother's side.

"You've never run into that problem before. No one's ever been able to make you reveal his identity," Sabine said. "And it's been two years."

"That's because I didn't know before!" Marinette said. "Now that I do, that will change."

"Have they ever tried to make you?" Tikki asked.

Marinette hesitated. "No."

"And why is that?"

Marinette didn't have an answer, so she sidestepped. "Tikki, if people think we know each others' identities, they'll probably start trying to make us. Who's side are you on?"

"Has anyone ever tried to make you reveal your own identity?" Sabine asked.

Marinette thought about it, and then folded her arms in protest. "Well," she said. "It's still against the rules."

"The rules we have now aren't always the rules," Tikki said. "They change with each different situation, and I'd say this changes the situation you're in quite a lot."

"Is there anything else that could go wrong from this?" Sabine asked, taking Marinette's hand. "Could we prevent the worst from happening before it does?"

"The worst…" Marinette said, nibbling the edge of a cookie. "If an akuma making us give up our secrets isn't bad enough for you, I don't know what is."

"Is that it?" Sabine said.

Marinette shook her head slowly. "And just… it changes so much."

"Do you think you might be worrying about this more than you need to?" Sabine asked. When Marinette didn't answer, Sabine turned to Tikki for help. "Has anything like this happened before?" Surely, it must have, and she wanted the kwami's opinion.

"Identities get exchanged almost every time," Tikki said. "And it's usually fine. Though," she paused, "every situation is different."

They let Marinette take in that information in silence.

"It's game night tomorrow," Tom said after the cookies and hot chocolate were all gone. The three of them were crammed onto the chaise, Marinette squished in the middle, not that she was complaining.

"It's still on," Marinette said. "And he should be done fencing practice in a few minutes. I need to talk to him." She put down her cup and licked the rest of the chocolate off of her lips.

"Are you going to-" Sabine began.

"Tell him who I am?" Marinette said. She stopped to consider, but she finally shook her head. "No. And I'm not telling you who he is either. Come on, Tikki. Spots on!" In a whirl of pink and sparkles, their little girl disappeared onto the balcony.

----

Cat Noir was slightly panicking – only slightly – as he waited for Ladybug at the top of the Palais Garnier. Ladybug had called him on his baton as soon as he'd gotten out of fencing practice, informing him something urgent had come up, and they needed to talk about in person, as soon as possible. Nothing was really wrong she'd said, but her tone made him hurry. He'd been pacing between the statues on the roof, mentally running through worst-case scenarios, since he'd arrived. It was fortunate for him that he didn't need to wait long.

Instead of dropping in beside him like she normally would, she landed softly on the opposite end of the roof and started walking toward him slowly. It gave his heart plenty of time to start pumping at double speed. Her hair was a mess, and she didn't look up at him as she got nearer. She'd said nothing was wrong, so why was she acting like something was wrong?

"Hey," he said when she got close enough, offering a little smile and wave that she didn't return, or even see.

"I know who you are." The words tumbled out so fast that she almost tripped over them. She still hadn't looked at him. "I told you trading phone numbers was a bad idea. We shared too much information, and... now I know who you really are."

His heart clenched. She had learned his identity and she probably hated him and she'd come to tell him they couldn't be partners anymore. "A-are you sure?" Cat Noir asked. "Because you could have gotten-"

"Yes, I'm sure," she said, meeting his eyes for the first time. And smiling. "Adrien."

An electric current coursed through his whole body at the name. But it wasn't from shock. He'd never been so happy to hear his own name before.

"I can't tell you how I found out," she said, eyes dropping back down to her hands that were clasped in front of her, "because then you'd be able to figure me out too."

"Did you tell your parents yet?" he asked. The question felt mechanical, disconnected from the surreal joy he felt. Ladybug knew who he was. She wasn't upset. The reveal had happened, and he hadn't even been there for it!

"No," she said, shaking her head for added emphasis. "And I'm not going to."

"I'm fine with it," he said. "I don't care if they-"

"I do! The fewer people that know, the safer you'll be."

"Is that the real reason?"

Ladybug studied his boots and didn't answer.

"So I guess that rules out me learning who you are today, huh?" He tried to hide his disappointment.

She glanced up at him, her head cocked to the side, eyes pinched with concern. She'd heard the hurt through the humor. "Not... not yet," she said, voice shaking slightly. "I'm not ready yet. I should tell you. I mean, you deserve to know and it would make everything easier, but I'm just not-"

"Hey," he said, grabbing her shoulders and cutting off her babbling. Ladybug rarely got nervous, but he knew her well enough to know that word soup was her most reliable anxious tell. "It's okay," he said. "I understand." He waited before continuing, making sure he had her full attention. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to. I never want to pressure you into anything."

With his hands on her shoulders, he felt the moment that the tension left them. Her whole frame seemed to unwind slightly, and she smiled up at him.

"Thank you," she said. "I do want to tell you. Just..."

"Just not yet," he finished. "I get it. Take your time." He let go of her shoulders and took a step back. She would need space right now. The best way he could make her feel better would be to let her deal with this information in her own way, even though he desperately wanted to wrap her in a hug and shout with joy. She knew who he was!

Ladybug waved goodbye and took off, like he had expected she would, but not before doing something completely unexpected. She took a step closer to him, stepped on her tiptoes, and kissed him on the cheek.

Cat Noir didn't move from that spot for a long, long time.

Read chapter 10 here

----

Tag list: @redhoodsdoll @lunadensmidnightprowl @fleurie3am15inspo @ladybug-182 @vixen-uchiha @secretacademia @little-boats-on-a-lake @wonderbat91939 @thecatsart0406 @heinrode @dawn-the-rithmatist @maybe-potato @tbehartoo @lovej0w0y @nonbeenary-enbee @marimause-15

[pvregold]

               mina’s  words  had  always  cut  through  her  like  the  edge  of  a  paper  sheet,  igniting  within  a  fire  blue  as  a  shooting  star,  bright  and  scorching  as  the  sun.  since  the  first  glance  she  took  at  her,  the  one  that  made  her  lost  her  composure  and  also  her  manners,  there  had  been  something  in  mina  that  was  bad  for  her,  that  made  her  ache.  she  has  learned  to  claw  the  skin  of  her  control,  though,  and  even  when  it  still  didn’t  work  well,  she  could  at  least  keep  the  reactions  at  bay  in  moments  like  this,  with  her  teeth  finding  the  inside  of  her  cheek  and  trapping  it  until  iron  touches  her  tongue  and  invades  her  senses.                  “  fucking  bitch,  ”     she  murmured  under  her  breath,  watching  mina  disappear  around  a  corner  and  the  next.  sabine  follows  her  because  she  doesn’t  have  another  option,  bracing  herself  for  a  new  portal  that  makes  her  insides  churn  when  she  lands  on  the  other  side.  this  time,  though,  not  even  nausea  making  its  home  in  the  base  of  her  throat  can  stop  the  venom  permeating  her  tone  when  she  counters,     “  ‘ walk  next  time ’ ?   are  you  fucking  serious,  mina ?  ”     she  questions,  rhetorically,  as  the  distance  between  their  bodies  decreases  slowly.     “  would  it  hurt  you  to,  i  don’t  know,  not  be  a  fucking,  insufferable  bitch  all  the  fucking  time,  harker ?  ”     her  breathing  is  ragged  the  moment  she  stops  inches  away  from  mina,  and  the  silence  that  fills  the  endless  void  between  them,  despite  how  physically  close  they  are,  only  makes  it  worse. 

from  the  moment  they  had  met  ,  mina  and  sabine  have  butted  heads  relentlessly  ,  with  every  encounter  ending  with  swear  words  flung  loudly  across  rooms  at  one  another  .  her  own  barely  concealed  fury  at  the  world  ,  sabine's  attitude  in  general  which  had  stung  harsh  as  a  bee  upon  their  first  meeting  ;  they  had  never  stood  a  chance  .  and  here  they  are  working  together  ,  unlikely  to  make  it  out  of  this  unscathed  whether  it  be  at  the  hands  of  others  ,  or  each  other  .

“  surely  you  can  clean  up  with  haste  ?  ”  she  grunts  ,  so  used  to  her  own  abilities  at  this  stage  that  they  never  do  affect  her  quite  as  much  as  they  do  with  others  .  years  of  practice  ,  of  experimentation  ,  finds  mina  sprinting  through  without  a  thought  nor  a  worry  for  where  she  might  end  up  ,  for  how  her  body  fluctuates  wildly  to  the  change  .  “  well  you  can  fucking  walk  next  time  .  ”  she  snaps  back  ,  though  her  hand  unconsciously  presses  to  the  small  of  sabine's  back  ,  as  though  steadying  her  —  she  flexes  her  fingers  as  she  lets  go  and  moves  swiftly  around  a  corner  ,  and  then  another  ,  and  another  .  somewhere  ,  footsteps  sound  and  she  scoffs  at  the  idea  that  sabine's  cleaning  up  did  anything  .  somewhere  in  the  pits  of  herself  ,   mina  feels  her  energy  rekindle  and  summons  one  final  portal  ,  grabbing  sabine  by  the  wrist  to  pull  her  through  and  close  it  harshly  behind  her  as  they  stumble  into  her  assigned  accommodation  .  “  that  was  a  long  distance  .  .  .  bathroom's  to  the  left  if  you  need  to  throw  up  .  try  not  to  mess  up  my  rug  .  ”

[intercoursefluids]

Humanizing Talia and Introducing Marinette

1 Here 3

“Mother, why are we here? Is there a target in hiding?”

6 year old Damian was confused.

Why had his mother brought him with her on this mission? Much less to a city like this.

Talia almost flinches.

She knows she’s not the best Mom out there, but she still wants to try.

Even if it can’t last.

“We are here to further your training, dear. Living in this city will help you blend in when you are on stealth missions. Your Grandfather has cleared us for 2 years living in this city or any other city we choose.”

Damian nodded in understanding.

“What is my first task?

This time Talia did flinch, she hadn’t thought that far ahead.

“Our first task is to move into our new home and get supplies.”

Please buy it please buy it please buy it please buy it.

“Okay, I understand. Where do we start?”

YES!

Mentally fist pumping Talia leads her son to the shopping center, gathering items needed for their new apartment.

She pays extra for delivery because there is no way she would be carrying all of that for the rest of the shopping trip.

“Come along, Damian, we need to get you some new clothes too.”

He nods, a serious look on his little baby face, as he leads her by her hand into a children's clothing store.

Look at her little man go! He’s getting so big so fast.

“Damian, dear, remember when we go in here there will be other children, they aren’t as strong as you are. You need to be gentle with them, if they bother you come to me and I will take care of it okay?”

Getting a nod in confirmation they both head into the store.

Looking at the racks of clothing Talia decides to let her son choose what he wants to wear, and she tells him as much, watching him walk away from her and further into the store she takes a seat next to one of the other mothers on a bench.

“Hello! Is that your little boy?”

Talia turns to the, admittedly short, and cheerful woman sitting beside her.

She radiates a calm kind of power and grace, not unlike a panther, or a serpent.

“Hello, and yes he is mine.”

Talia braces for the questions regarding his father, on where they are from, on who they are…

“He seems like such a sweet boy, my little girl is over there-” She points to the other side of the store with a little girl glaring at two different outfits a rather large man is holding up”- my husband is with her, she wants to become a fashion designer when she grows up. It’s awful trying to find clothes that meet her standards.”

She chuckles, waving at the man as he looks in her direction with a helpless look on his face before turning back to Talia.

“I’m Sabine, my husband’s name is Tom, and our little girl is Marinette, am I right to assume you are new to Paris? Maybe even France entirely?”

At Talia’s confirmation, Sabine smiles brightly, shaking her hand before turning back to the kids.

“You speak french beautifully, I almost didn’t even notice your accent. Does your son speak French as well?”

Talia, never one to miss a chance to gloat about her son, takes the opportunity presented to her.

“Yes, Damian speaks multiple languages. Arabic, French, and most recently he has started learning English. My name is Talia by the way.”

Sabine claps her hands together, looking positively delighted to hear that.

“He knows Arabic? One of Marinette’s new friends speaks it as well! She was so excited when she found out, she asked us to get her some books so she could learn it herself.”

Talia looks back over to the little girl, her pigtails bouncing side to side as she shake her head at the two options presented to her before reaching for something else.

“How interesting, perhaps we could help teach her, Damian may even find a friend in her.”

Sabine nudges her, pointing in the direction her son was last as she stifles her giggles.

“I think my little Marinette may be ahead of us both!”

Talia watches as the tiny girl marches up to her even smaller son…

And immediately starts grabbing clothes off the rack before shoving him into one of the nearby dressing rooms with his arms full of them.

Talia takes out her phone looking over to Sabine, both with the same question in their gazes.

Is it alright if I film this with your child in it?

The answer was yes.

They both proudly film their children as Marinette shouts directions through the door, making Damian put on a little fashion show for her as he progressively just appears more and more confused as to what exactly is happening.

Eventually she is satisfied, taking some of the clothes away and having him help her put them back and showing him how to do it properly before pulling him by the hand to the two women.

“Maman! This is Damian, he’s my friend now. Can we go play together tomorrow?”

Both women just laugh as they head to the register to check out the clothes she had chosen, exchanging numbers along the way.

“You are raising quite the spitfire there. She will grow into a marvelous young woman.”

Sabine takes her husband's hand, her grin never fading.

“And you have quite the sophisticated gentleman on your hands. I suppose I will see you tomorrow?”

Talia agrees bidding the couple farewell as she leads Damian away from the dog him and little Marinette had managed to charm into rolling onto its back, ready to get pet.

“BYE DAMIAN! SEE YOU TOMORROW!”

Damian waves goodbye back to her with his free hand, the other clutching onto Talia’s.

Well, out of all the children in Paris, little Marinette probably isn’t the worst friend for her son to make.

Hopefully…

[incorrectpizza]

@jacensyndullaweek 2023 has officially begun! I didn't have the time/energy to write anything massive, but I have a bunch of little ficlet ideas that I figured I should get around to sharing with the world:

The first one - title TBD - is below the cut if anyone prefers to read on Tumblr.

Hera drops the dish she’s washing the first time she hears Jacen say “Dada!”

The plate, made of child-proof plastoid, doesn’t shatter.

Her heart does.

Jacen’s sitting at the table when he says it, playing with the Tooka cat Sabine had made him out of one of Kanan’s old shirts.

Hera stares, watching every movement of Jacen’s tiny fingers. As she analyzes her son’s burbling noise, she wonders if she had heard him correctly.

Then Jacen points at the cat and exclaims “Dada!” again.

It’s all she can do to stay standing.

She inches along the wall from the kitchen to the common room, bracing herself with one hand.

Sinking down onto the bench next to Jacen, she rubs the back of his hand and strokes the tooka’s ears with her fingertips.

After over a minute of excruciating silence, she tries to make sense of Jacen’s new word.

“Your tooka is made out of Dada’s shirt.” The raw truth. Nothing more, nothing less.

“Did Sabine tell you that?”

In response to her rhetorical question, Jacen nods while burbling and babbling “Dada” and “Mama” both several more times.

[lowkey-gt]

boi just give me some adrien x borrower!marinette

[handheld, first meeting] 

Oh like Marinette using a sewing needle and thread as her main mode of transport? And also as her weapon of choice? Her being highly adept at crafting and making things with whatever she can find?

She lives in the bakery, and the couple who owns it knows she lives there! But SHE doesn’t know they know she lives there. Despite her clumsiness on her escapades, she is “never discovered”, and always seems to find fresh baked goods for her to eat in such convenient locations. 

She knows of the handsome Adrien Agreste from magazines left out on the counter, and in television promos she sees from her hiding places in the walls. But he’s this beautiful model that she sees on a screen - she would never hope or expect to ever see him in the flesh.

The day he comes into the bakery, by chance, after school, he’s greeted by Sabine - but she tells him to wait five minutes until the next batch of cakes is fresh out of the oven, and he’s left alone at the counter while she goes out back. He is extremely polite while he waits, nothing but a gentleman - and also, extremely quiet. Quiet enough that Marinette is completely unaware that anyone’s even in the store when she comes out of hiding to explore.

Adrien’s gently perusing the display desserts when Marinette rappels down the wall. He leans down to the glass, admiring the piping on one of the cakes, and then a flutter of movement catches his eye in the reflection. Marinette nimbly swings onto the benchtop in the corner of the room, the one covered in croissants - their pastry is so flaky that no-one ever notices when she tears off a few sheets for herself. She stumbles when she lands but quickly gets to work. She grabs what she needs within a minute, and hitches her pack ready to dart off again - but now it’s a flicker of a shadow that catches her eye. She sees it in the reflection of the front window - a large shape moving into view. The movement startles her enough that she jumps back.

Right off the edge of the benchtop.

She dips so suddenly over the lip of the bench, and falls backwards in the air. It’s not the first time this has happened, though, and she immediately has her needle in her hands as her adrenaline spikes, and she flings it as hard as she can upward, and grips onto the thread. Her clumsiness spares her this once and the needle hits its target, embedding into the table leg. Marinette braces for the jolt…

She lands on something warm, and soft.

It takes her a second to even register - she should be swinging on the rope right now, after jerking to a stop. She’s not. She’s landed without so much as a bump. Marinette’s eyes blink open frantically - she looks up first at the thread, but it’s exactly where it should be. Then she looks down. What the— what is she sitting on-

Oh.

Her whole body goes cold, her heart rate increases tenfold, even more adrenaline races through her. A hand, it was a hand, an impossibly big hand. She’s frozen for a second until it moves under her. Marinette whips around as something much, much bigger shifts behind her. And then she’s staring up at him.

A moment ago Adrien had turned to see what the movement was - and then could do nothing but stare, his mouth ajar, watching this impossibly tiny girl swing down towards the croissants. Trying to comprehend what he was seeing!! He couldn’t stop staring, in shock, until he realised she was getting back up, readying herself to leave - and his feet carried him forward towards her, he had to see her up close, he had to meet her? But no sooner had he moved, he saw her lose her footing, and his stomach dropped as he watched her fall off the bench.

And then he had leapt forward, hand outstretched, darting around the pyramid of macarons in his path, and he saw her deftly fling her needle and thread upwards to save herself, but he was already there, and she landed softly in his hand. His breath caught as he felt her against his skin, confirming she was real. Time stopped for a second as he processed it all. Mon dieu, she was so small. So light in his grasp - but the weight of holding a whole person in the palm of his hand sends a wave of adrenaline through him. He shifts as slowly as he can manage, trying to balance himself while holding her steady, and that’s when she spins around. Their eyes meet. Adrien could feel his own eyes widen, as he stares in amazement at her, now up close. Every detail of a real living person is upon her tiny face, and she is beautiful. He’s stunned. His whole body sings with excitement. He wanted to lift her up, bring her closer, reach out and touch her. He’s about to, he can feel his other hand moving closer - but then his brain catches up with his eyes, and he realises this tiny, beautiful girl is staring back at him in terror.

And then Sabine walks back in.

She announces herself and the cakes she carries in loudly, which scares both of them, and in the second Adrien takes to cast a look over at the shopkeeper, Marinette screams at her body to move, and she leaps off his hand and swings off. Adrien feels her leave as Sabine chatters on, and he exclaims as he whips back around - he looks around frantically and spots the needle in the table, and quickly bends down and follows the thread - but Marinette is already gone from the end of it, she’s already disappeared. Adrien is left dumbfounded, and more than disappointed, feeling the weight of a million questions he now has that may never be answered.

And Marinette is scrambling back into the walls, a ringing in her ears, gasping for breath as she hides - but, setting in is the face she had seen, looming over her, terrifying but, enchanting - one she’d seen many, many times before today, but never in the flesh. Of all people to have finally been seen by, the first human to look her in the eyes and discover her existence and nearly scare her to death - dear god, it was Adrien Agreste.