#so apparently clara is screaming in my brain

[herleaf]

Oh thank goodness, it appears they both are as frazzled and awkward about this. Equal awkward footing, meaning this could go fantastic or absolutely blow up in her face. Like how many of the early encounters with Danny Pink went, where both said stupid things and then would immediately rush off and proceed to proverbially bang their heads on desks or walls in absolute horror of what they had said. Lets just say that being stuck in time hasn't really helped her with social cues and conversations with modern people, exactly.

A smile pulled up her lips at the gesture the woman showed, bending down to help out and then backing away to play it off. It was sweet, and not at all something that every person would do. Meaning, this person seemed to have a good side to her. Maybe Clara could make a friend -- or, no, not a friend because the moment she figured out what was going on she was out of here. But, it didn't hurt to make acquaintances, right? The Doctor did it all the time, after all. So if the Doctor can do it, so can she.

"No, actually. What's crazy is two women walking alone at night, on guard but one so scatterbrained enough to walk into the other and drop what few supplies she has to constantly check are there or she'll worry she forgot them. Nasty habit of mine, sadly." Her lower lip was pulled between her teeth to try to hide the widening of her smile at the hint of glee on the woman's face. Perhaps she was nailing this conversation after all. "If I were to kill you, I'd be serving you a Bailey's Hot Coffee as your final drink, so your last meal would at least be a bit more exciting than just black coffee. Sadly the diner doesn't have a license for that yet; you're safe until that comes in. Except, apparently the previous family member who passed it down to me was dry as ash so it feels almost crude to bring alcohol into it. I guess that makes me the sentimental type. Bad trait for a killer, guess I'll have to scratch that off the future career list."

Taking a few steps forward, she pulled the keys out from her messenger bag for the motorcycle that was hidden in the parking spots the building over next. "A butcher? Surprisingly, I feel less worried about you being a killer, too obvious of a job for a murderer honestly. I'd call you smart, unless that turns out to be wrong. Now come on, the diner and coffee sadly won't open or make themselves. I promised you the best, after all. And maybe you can tell me what I need to know about the town, Jenny. Don't judge the food that we have now, though, I haven't had the heart to break the contract with the old meat supplier of the place yet. Reputable lass, but I feel like I need to make the diner my own somehow."

Jenny takes a step forward to go help pick up the items now strewn across the footpath, only to just as quickly withdraw upon realising the stranger didn’t need her help. She shifts her stance, trying to play it off; it’s too early for this. Now she just has to hope she can make it through this early morning social interaction without coming across too off putting to the new face in town. After all, she seems nice enough; though of course no one ever turns out who they seem to be, the world has proven this to Jenny time and time again. Needless to say, Jenny isn’t letting her guard down any time soon.

She gazes over at the woman in front of her, subtly looking her up and down in an attempt gain any kind of understanding as to who she had just run into. Jenny hadn’t expected there to be someone else out and about at this hour yet in reality she’s just another woman on her way to work, so nothing out of the ordinary. Or at least that’s what the situation appears to be. So theoretically at least, nothing all too surprising.

Though what does surprise her is the mention of a diner on the edge of town; she has lived in Port Townsend her entire life yet has never heard of this place. But then again, Jenny isn’t exactly the most social of humans; that is to say they she’d choose a meal in at home as opposed to going out every time without fail. Thus, it’s easy enough to just chalk this up to the fact that she hadn’t heard of such a place because she had never gone looking for it. It’s not like she could name every business in Port Townsend after all.

“You do realise how crazy that sounds right? How crazy it would be for me to follow a complete stranger?” she raises her eyebrows. Though as crazy as it is Jenny has to admit that a free cup of coffee sounds pretty damn good right about now. She’s silent for a moment before sighing. Screw it. At this point she had been through crazier.

“But lucky for you, your diner seems to be the only place that’s even close to being open and I am in desperate need of that coffee,” she pauses, the corners of her mouth curving upwards in a small smile for a brief moment. “So if you’re going to kill me at least let me drink have a coffee first.”

Just as quickly as the smile had appeared on Jenny’s face it’s replaced with her usual straight faced expression. She gives a small nod in Clara’s direction as if to say “lead the way”.

Upon the sudden realisation she hadn’t introduced herself yet, she quickly adds, “I’m Jenny, by the way. I own and run the butcher shop not far from here.”

[luxury-nightmare]

mom says it’s my turn on the writing

Clara’s life for to long had been just been four white walls. Four white walls and lies.

So many lies.

The sound of music had plagued her since she had been brought to this damned facility. She had learned to despise sound. Her fellow patients had screamed and screamed to no avail. Nobody was coming for them. Whatever the employees had been told, they were convinced their screams of agony were normal. Locked in a madhouse with a monster in the same walls.

Clara had lost hope.

And then they had arrived.

An employee, conducting an interview. There was something off about them from the beginning. How tired they were, how their eyes seemed yellow under the goggles. But maybe her mind was playing tricks on her. She’d had learned not to trust it a while ago.

They were the first modicum of kindness she had seen since the caretakers had kidnapped her and dragged her into this hellhole. She was skeptical of them, but played along anyway.

It could’ve been a lie, but this place was built on lies anyway. What was one more?

————————————————

The alarms blared, the lights screaming red. Clara shot out of her sleep. The asylum was on lockdown, emergency alert. She slammed her hands over her ears in an attempt to drown out the noise.

The metal door behind her creaked open. Her brain went on high alert. That never meant something good. She turned around to see-

A monster.

Tall and boney with green wings and lopsided horns. Covered in purple eyes, each one locked on her. She stumbled backwards in fear. She was about to die. Was this the Angel of death, coming for her broken mind? Her breaths went ragged and quick as it extended its claw to her.

And it spoke.

“Are you ok?”

The voice was high pitched and squeaky, identical to the snippets of training tapes she could hear through the walls. She would’ve laughed if she wasn’t so scared.

“Who are you?” She asked, shaking in fear.

The air seemed to blur for a moment, and something glitched. For the briefest moment, she saw the employee from the interview. Could it-

“What happened to you?”

“It’s hard to explain”

Clara stood up, legs still shaking from fear.

It was probably a lie. But in a place built on lies, she’d take a kind one for a change.

————————————————

It had been years since Clara had been broken out of that asylum. She had tried to carve out whatever life she could in Eastridge afterwards. She would’ve left, but she didn’t have anywhere else to go.

Alex had filled her in on what had happened. Alex willams. The employee from the interview, the Angel of silence. They used to be human, but their proximity to a certain Eastridge demon had transformed them into what they were now, similar to how radiation breaks down cells and reshapes them.

How and why they were so comfortable with abandoning their humanity, Clara would never knew.

She had developed a bit of a new identity to hide from what remained of the foundation. Lankmann was dead, Alex had killed him themself (“beat the old man to death with a crowbar, you should’ve seen it!” The smiling snatcher had told her. Apparently its name was Clyde. Such a simple name for a demon), but she could never be to careful. Dying her hair and taking her wife’s last name was the best she could do (it’s amazing what living through hell on earth will make you realize about yourself).

She still had Alex’s tapes up in her attic, locked away so she wouldn’t have to touch the memories again. Her son was incredibly curious about them though, and it worried her. He didn’t need to know about velidgun or the asylum or the hell she had to go through to get here.

It was a small lie, but this place was built on lies, and she’d tell as many as it takes to keep Tommy safe.

[lanawinterscigarettes]

It’s okay about the slang!! I hope you’re doing okay btw also you really do spoil me I went to read that fic for the 4th time (yes fourth in 24 hours haha) and saw that you changed the word apartment to flat when Clara says it - SCREAMING I love that little drabble thingy (idk if that’s the right word) so much!! Don’t stress yourself to write part two or anything only if you want to 🫶 also I was so sad when you know that bit in the show when Missy kisses the doctor and then turns to Clara and is like ‘would you like a welcome package too’ that would have been ultimate Missyclara - apparently Jenna and Michelle were holding hands for the whole scene because Michelle was nervous which is actually adorable considering she plays such an out there character. I am still longing for Missy absolutely driving Clara insane and getting her flustered because Missy knows exactly what buttons to push to evoke a reaction she wants from Clara missyclara ftw

You literally know how my brain works exactly when you put the little hashtag that you haven’t forgot about the ask that’s the thing with me I sound needy sometimes it’s not that I don’t mind waiting it’s that my mind thinks I’ve been forgotten by someone �� literally thank you sm 🫶

Also side note why the thought of being caught like that sound kinda hot that fic has awoken something in me 😭

No worries about the Christmas crackers thing - they are a very British thing I’ve never seen them in other countries! Also me trying to figure out what a saltine is LOL cultural differences, also I most probably put this in another ask but Clara is an only child and I’m freaking out about it because she’s just so perfect and nearly everyone has siblings

Don’t worry about replying to my asks, just do them when you’re ready 🫶

Hope you’re having a lovely day!

- ⭐️

you have no idea how happy it makes me to hear you like the fic so much that you keep going back to read it- and I totally agree I love missyclara they had so much potential and I really wish they had more scenes together. I plan on having the second part being something where missy is a massive tease to clara and the reader both but they're enjoying themselves more than they're willing to let on (also michelle gomez was in chilling adventures of sabrina which was basically netflix's updated version of sabrina the teenage witch and from what I've seen of her in the show she looked amazing. I really need to watch it soon)

and it's absolutely no problem! I know exactly what you mean, and I don't want you to think that I've forgotten about you or that I'm trying to ignore you on purpose 💞 I'm just a bit of a scatterbrain and tend to get distracted by other things really easily so that's why it usually takes me so long to respond

honestly I have no idea where the idea for that fic even came for I just knew I wanted to write something that was clara x reader x missy and since we all know how much fun missy has getting in the middle of things and causing chaos I thought her showing up unexpectedly while clara and the reader were trying to have some alone time would be perfect

i didn't even think about you not knowing what a saltine is I'm so sorry 😭 and most of my knowledge of British culture comes from doctor who/bbc sherlock (I'm a covert superwholock fan shh don't tell anyone) and I cant explain why but clara just seems to give off only child energy if that makes sense

and you're so sweet, thank you for being so understanding when it comes to me taking so long to respond 💕

i hope you're having/had a great day too!! 🥰🥰

[wifi-crusader]

*kicks down a door* Ok so I started watching "Welcome to Demon School Iruma-kun" and my unga bunga banana brain went "crossover with sagau cult fic". Now we're here

Welcome to Demon School! Creator!

Alright, here's the drill. You were a big fan of Genshin and loved every character in the game. One night during a thunderstorm you were playing Genshin and bam! Lightning hit your home and now suddenly you're being dragged by a bald guy with horns speaking in enchantment table.

"W-wha-?" You yelled out in shocked as the demon snapped his fingers and started to sound like English. The man, now known to you as Sullivan or grandpa cuase he basically adopted you as his grandchild. You agree because let's just say you're parents ain't the best.

Moving on, you gotten acquainted with Iruma, the blackhole stomach, who I guess is now your brother or something. I don't know, I'm just the narrator. You've also found out that Hell also has videogames and you continued your passion with Genshin.

But oh boy, that lightning storm was rather inconvenient. Why? Well you see, there's some sort of barrier between you and them but the lightning storm weakened it. Now all a certain scientist in Dragonspine, Albedo is finding a way to breach into "your" realm.

But you don't half to worry about that for now because you're getting enrolled to Demon School. There you were now about to fight Mr. Alice Asmodeus because Iruma chanted a forbidden spell at the opening. You being a good sibling wanted to be fair and challenged Iruma to Rock, Paper, Scissors and Iruma can't say no, literally. Loser has to fight Alice and you can already guess who lost.

Now outside you put your dukes up and as Asmodeus charges, you threw a punch and Alice gotten launched by a strong gust of wind (ehe~). You, being freaked out, went with it and somehow summon a cartoonishly large Geo hammer and slammed it down on Alice. Don't worry, he's still alive.

Now here's the kicker, Alice became your servant after losing to you and also became your simp pogchamp. (I mean, I wouldn't mind, dude reminds me of strawberry sweet roll. He literally looks like a snack).

You also meet Clara, a green haired female demon that you thought was on drugs and high amounts of caffine. You ended up getting roped into playing house.

Now let's check in on the wonderful, totally-sane world of Teyvat: Sagau edition! Albedo construct a portal like device as every playable character (or "blessed vessels" as they're called) were standing on a podium infront a rather large crowd at Dragonspine. The reason is that today is the "Heavenly Ascension" where the blessed vessels will travel to their creator's world to possibly bring them back home. Now the vessels walk up Dragonspine after a speech as Albedo activated the portal.

Now cut back to you sleeping peacefully as the TV in your room began to start. The screen was static as silhouettes with white holes for eyes grew larger as a gloved hand broke through the screen as the Genshin characters crawled out of it. You woke up to the multiple sounds of footsteps and screamed out loud as Sullivan, Iruma, and the neko butler I haven't mentioned before rushed in and saw the intruders.

After a while of talking (and pain), you found out that you're apparently their God.

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

"And that's why I have a hoard of people behind me" You finished talking to your friend group of Asmodeus, Clara, and Iruma.

"I knew you were powerful master, but I didn't know you were a god!" Asmodeus said as he started bowing at you.

"Your excellence, may I inquire about who this is?" Lizard daddy Zhongli (Me: *pukes in a bucket*) asked you.

"Ah, he's a friend of mine. Alice Asmodeus, this is Zhongli. Zhongli, this is Alice Asmodeus" You responded back to Zhongli.

"What's a friend?" Asmodeus asked as he look up at you.

"Well uh-" You were about to respond-

BUT YOU JUST GOT "TO BE CONTINUED"!

[katyasrussianaccent]

you're so golden (corpse x reader)

Summary: You're a faceless youtuber that sings cover songs. What happens when a certain faceless streamer slides into your DMs after you cover one of his songs?

Author's Note: Don't hate me! This was gonna be a cute chapter but then I decided against that. Credit to @moontwinkles for the spilling scene idea. Let me know what you think!

Masterlist

The sound of your alarm wakes you from your slumber with a suddenness. Bleary-eyed, you roll over to turn it off, letting out a small sigh as your body and brain start to awaken. You’re going to meet Corpse. You’re going to meet Corpse. It bares repeating in your mind; the prospect still not quite registering.

You haven’t had the greatest sleep, your mind racing most of the night; skittish little thoughts that had you tapping your toes on the mattress in agitation as you struggled to turn them off. Sunlight streams through the cracks in your blinds, a warm glow painted in stripes on your wall. It was going to be a good day, tiredness be damned.

You get up, stretching your arms out as wide as possible and relishing in the relief as your muscles unclench themselves. There’s a little spring in your step as you walk to the bathroom, to wash your face and brush your teeth. You aren’t nervous as you pick out your favourite outfit, instead you feel excited. It’s funny how little scraps of fabric and thread can impact your mood so much, but you smile at your reflection, the feeling of confidence is nice, albeit rare.

The rumbling in your stomach signals that you need to eat something before you leave. Nothing too fancy, just some toast and a glass of juice. You can feel the nerves start to grow a little, the food sits heavy on your tongue, forcing you to swallow it. You grab your phone, scrolling as you chew. You go onto Corpse’s twitter, smiling at the picture he’s posted.

Out of curiosity, you go onto his likes. You always find his likes interesting; the random things he’s added gives you more of an insight to his thoughts and feelings. You chew the inside of your cheek as you scroll down past girls with perfect skin and bodies; your previous confidence now feels a little misplaced.

Deciding against letting it ruin your mood, you close the tab and go to grab your bag before locking your door and heading to your car. You text Rae to let her know you’re leaving and she replies almost immediately to wish you luck. Sitting in front of the steering wheel, you exhale as you start the engine and begin to drive. This was really happening. When Corpse had asked to meet, you were shocked. While you had discussed it, you had been under the assumption it would be a while before it happened. You just hope you don’t make an idiot of yourself; a tendency you had when you were nervous.

While you love the city, there’s something about driving on the open road. No noise, just the sound of tires on concrete. The scenery remains the same; nothing but trees and the occasional house far in the horizon. You’re meeting him in Santa Barbara; a place you’ve been to once in your life, so it might as well be brand new. It’s halfway between both of you, and while it’s still a few hours drive, you’ve got good music and some sunshine to keep you happy.

The drive flies in and before you know it, you’ve arrived. You’re meeting at a cafe that sells bubble tea; it was Corpse’s recommendation. It’s a charming little place, with white table and chairs on a cobbled patio area. The building itself is white brick, plant pots decorate the window sills and there’s a small crowd of people waiting in line. You turn off the engine, and grab the perfume out your bag, the smell of peaches invading your nostrils. With one last look at yourself, you exit your car and make your way to the cafe.

You’re not sure how you’ll find him, being faceless and all. A quick scan of the people around you, your eyes zero in on a figure dressed all in black, leaning against a wall that’s slightly in the shade. There’s butterflies in your stomach as you look at him from afar, your feet apparently unable to move on their own accord. He stands out amongst the brightly coloured outfits of everyone else, and you can see the sun glint against the chains on his jeans.

“Hi,” you greet, your hand going up to half-wave at him. He’s handsome; pale skin and cheekbones that disappear under the fabric of his mask. A mop of black curls are atop his head, falling out in different directions, and he brushes one off his forehead as he looks at you.

“Hey,” he replies and you smile a little. There’s a thick fog of awkwardness between you as you both take each other in, though trying not to look so obvious about it. You feel under scrutiny as his eyes move over you, and you meet his gaze before you both look down at the ground, a faint blush on your cheeks.

“How was the drive?,” you ask at the same time he does, causing you both to laugh. “Oh. Uh yeah it was good, thanks, how was yours?”

“Yeah it was good,” he replies, his eyes still on the ground.

“That’s good.”

“Yeah.”

You scream internally as your eyes dart around, looking for something, anything to break this awkwardness. It shouldn’t be like this, you have such great chemistry on the phone and online, but there’s nothing right now. Is it you? There’s a niggling in your brain that says he was fine until now; until he saw you.

��We could go, uh, into the cafe? Get some food?” he suggests, breaking you from your self deprecating thoughts. You nod and you follow him to the door. He opens it and you dodge out the way as it narrowly escapes hitting you in the face. Corpse mutters an apology as he walks in, his eyes glued to the ground.

You order together; you get yourself a boba tea and a burger and Corpse does the same. He pays without saying anything to you, and while the day’s isn’t going quite as you pictured, the gesture makes your cheeks warm. You desperately hope it gets better. Maybe you’ve misread the situation and the chemistry you felt you had was just friendship on his part. Friends flirt all the time, and it doesn’t have to mean anything.

Your food arrives and you sit in relative silence as you eat. The times you do speak is stilted, full of one word answers and obvious observations. You go to reach for your boba as Corpse goes to grab salt, and the movement of his hand plus the crampedness of the table pushes your own hand back towards you, knocking the cup all over your neck and chest. Corpse shoots up in a speed that shouldn’t be human, his hand full of napkins as he comes towards you. The liquid is cold against your skin, and you look down to see your outfit now ruined, the fabric sticking to you in wet patches.

“I’m such a fucking idiot, I’m so sorry,” Corpse says, his tone panicky as he dabs at your neck. He continues to dab, his hands pressing at the neckline of your top and if this was another time, you’d feel all fluttery at his hands on your skin. But it’s not, you’re uncomfortable and the day has sucked so far and all you want to do is go home. He discards the napkin onto the table and grabs another, his fingers warm against your collarbone as he presses the tissue. He doesn’t realise that he’s travelling downwards to your chest before he presses once, twice, before retracting his hand back like he’s been burned, the napkin falling to the floor. “Uh fuck, sorry, I didn’t realise I - “

“It’s fine,” you reassure him. “I’ve always wanted apple scented boobs, guess I can check that off my bucket list.” It’s a failed joke but humour is a defence mechanism for you, even if it’s not very funny. Corpse widens his eyes a little, his gaze fixed on the napkin that’s on the floor.

He hands you some more napkins and you clean up a little more. Your skin feels sticky, and you smell of artificial apple; but the apple isn’t sweet, it’s bitter and slightly unpleasant.

“Uh, I should probably go home and get a shower, I feel like I fell into a vat of sugar,” you say, standing up and grabbing your bag.

“Oh, yeah, I’m so fucking sorry, I’m so clumsy,” Corpse replies. You can tell he feels awful, and while you sympathise, he’s not the one that’s just had almost a full cup of boba spilled on him.

You shake your head, “It’s fine, really. I just feel really gross. Don’t worry about it.” You smile in what you hope comes across as reassurance.

“Let me walk you back to your car,” he says. You nod and walk out together in silence; something you had gotten used to throughout the day.

“Have a safe drive back,” you say as you get to your car.

“I will. Let me know when you get home?” he asks, and you nod.

“Shall do. Goodbye Corpse,” you say, opening the door and waving at him through the window. He waves back and you watch him through the rearview mirror as he disappears out of sight. You feel like an idiot for believing this was going to be good, like you ever had a chance with him. You’d been saying it since the start; that it wouldn’t work, you had nothing in common, nothing to talk about. And you were right. Sometimes you hated being right.

You turn the engine on and sit there for a second, your head pressing against the steering wheel. What a waste of time this was. Grabbing your phone, you tweet quickly.

“Oh well, let’s go wallow in self pity,” you whisper before driving off.

Taglist: @genshinglitter @fanworrior @cherry-piee @mirahg @clara-bee @clubfairy @youretheonlyonewhomakesme @more-like-reyna @boiled-onionrings @moneybagmgk @brendalopez99 @delicateavenuenacho @dreamsofficialwife @hydrate-tion @oi-itsemily @letsloveimagines @softforqiankun @evilunicorns4minions @captain-willowwitch @afuckingunicornn @theroyalbrownbarbie @buttersnitzle @officiallyunofficialperson @aha-red @frostbitelokii @butterfly-skinnylegend @sofianunes10 @ghostfacefricker6969 @alienvarmint @helena-way07 @woah2pointo @jasmine2042003 @youhyakuya @adore-holland @hyunjinhugs @finahja @lupinpetersclearwaterodairparker @only-corpse-hands @remugoodgirl @gowhiteboygo-poggers @open-minded-chip-101 @daveedfanfics @justakpopstans @majasophieanna @mxjetlagcity @strawberrydonkey @meowtella @lizzylynch1 @chesca-791 @anescapefromtheworld @unded-bride @majasophieanna @adorkably @lost--in--the--moon @euphoricseokjin

[fortunesfavours]

My gift for @casismymrdarcy as part of @starrynightdeancas wonderful gift exchange. I had so much fun writing this! Definitely going to try AUs like this more. A short and sweet one-shot featuring Dean as a camp counselor, ghost summoning, and the cute counselor from Cabin Three getting caught in the rain. I hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 1189

Continued below the cut, will be up on AO3 once I decide on a title.

CW: slight mention of John Winchester/rough family life

Generally, in all of Dean’s sum 25 years of life experience, letting a pack of eight-year-olds that were already positively intoxicated on sugar near candles, a lighter, and his co-counselor’s Ouija board was a truly horrific idea. Yet, here he was, weary head in his hands, attempting to supervise the most hare-brained idea of the week. His co-counselor, an energetic woman named Clara he had first met at the staff meeting a few days before, was on her break, leaving him alone with their cabin. She had pulled him aside in the dinner line and told him that she had “stuff to let the kids experiment with” in a box under her bunk. He had (foolishly) assumed this would probably be art supplies, perhaps some glitter glue and cardstock, or maybe pony beads and string, but alas, here he was.

He had opened the box that had once apparently held Kirkland-brand orange juice to find an intricately-carved wooden plank, detailed with curling vines and celestial objects, as well as the alphabet, numbers, and a small selection of words engraved in a rather medieval-looking font. On top was an equally-ornate planchette, a pack of tea lights, a lighter painted with a spiderweb, and a sticky-note addressed to him.

“Dean,

Have fun ;) Break ends at 1 am, going into town. Don’t burn down the cabin.”

Dean had sighed, rolling his eyes and mourning his choice of summer job. Charlie had sung the praises of her childhood camp to him when he had mentioned his search, leading Dean to sign up as a counselor.

One of the kids, a little girl named Ella, was calling for Dean. He shook himself back to focus to see her frustratedly trying to work the lighter. The kids had set up a wobbly circle of candles around the board, and were clustered around it. Ella’s nose is scrunched up with concentration, and Dean pushes himself out of his chair to light the candles for them. He deftly sets the tea lights alight, and the room starts to smell of beeswax. One of the kids has scrambled over to the lightswitch, and with a flick of a switch, the cabin is filled with warm, flickering candlelight.

The kids promptly start an eager discussion of the proper way to summon a ghost, and Dean so desperately wants to just go to bed. Sure, his dad had been a little over-interested in these sorts of things, but that sure as hell didn’t mean he was going to pull out his childhood familiarity with the paranormal. He can almost see himself as a young child in their faces, bright with eager curiosity and uninhibited trust in the world around them. His chest twinges a bit at the thought, but he catches himself before he can start to dwell on his family issues. He and Sam are out now, out and living their lives. He can be a camp counselor now, he can think about the cute guy in charge of Cabin Three with the blue eyes and not hate himself for it. Dean chuckles, leaning back in his chair, and jokingly calls out, “You should try Latin.”

Charlie, a tall, gangly kid with serious eyes and a way of walking that vaguely reminded Dean of a bird, bounces in their seat at this suggestion. “I know Pig Latin! My cousin taught me!”

This new addition is eagerly accepted by the children, who clearly have decided that this is quite a good substitute for proper Latin. Dean closes his eyes and yawns, mind drifting to thoughts of rest and the chocolate bar he had stashed in his backpack. He could almost fall asleep here, listening to the crackle of the candles and the pounding of the rain outside. Reluctantly keeping himself awake, he tuned back in to hear the group chanting something that with translation was most definitely “ghosts of Lakeside Camp, we summon you” interspersed with humming of what might have been the camp theme song, and which also may have been some pop song Dean can’t conjure the name of. Their voices start to crescendo, getting more discordant but also more eager. All at once, there’s a pounding knock on the door combined with a boom of thunder, then a flash of lighting. One voice lets out a quickly-muffled scream as a gust blows through the cabin and extinguishes the candles. The cabin goes silent but for the rain, full of wide eyes and scared faces.

Dean looks around and as he opens his mouth to comfort his campers, is interrupted by another knock. He silently moves to the door, opening it a crack so as to not startle the campers. When he locks eyes with Cabin Three’s counselor, dripping wet and wiping rain off his face, Dean decides that this is either his lucky day or the gods cursing him. Only one way to find out, he thinks.

“Man, you’re drenched.” he says, and immediately curses internally. What an introduction. The man blinks a few times, and responds entirely genuinely, “My umbrella broke. May I come in?”

“Oh- yeah, yeah, of course. I’ll grab you a towel.” Dean swings the door open, and the man steps in, only to be greeted by twelve terrified faces.

“Yeah, um, sorry about that everyone. This is just… uh-” he glances over at the man, who realizes after a moment what Dean is asking for. “Castiel. I’m Cabin Three’s counselor.” The kids murmur amongst themselves before one speaks up.

“You’re not a ghost, right?”

Castiel squints, and Dean can’t help but find it adorable. “Not as far as I know.”

Hurrying off to grab a towel, Dean rifles through his suitcase before returning with his pool towel and handing it to Castiel. He gladly accepts it, and promptly wanders off to stand in a corner and attempt to dry his rain-drenched hair.

Dean spends the next hour herding campers through the process of getting ready for bed, sneaking conversation with Castiel in between. However, all this does is further send Dean absolutely further into his developing crush. With every sentence exchanged, Cas is nothing but clever, kind, and utterly unlike anyone Dean has ever met. By the time the kids are all asleep and the cabin is tidied up, the rain has subsided into a light drizzle. Cas, though, makes no mention of leaving. Instead, he and Dean wander out onto the porch to continue talking. By the time Dean’s co-counselor returns, Cas has to excuse himself back to his cabin. As Dean turns to go inside, Cas calls out and offers a folded piece of paper. Before Dean can open it, he smiles a beautifully soft smile, turns on his heel, and vanishes into the foggy night.

When Dean opens the paper later that night, he can’t contain the smile that breaks out over his face.

“Dean,

Go out with me tomorrow? I know a place I think you’d like.

Cas <3”

When they get ice cream the next day, they share a kiss over a sundae and Dean decides that taking this job was the best decision he’s made yet.

[guessimwritingficsagain]

To be seen, part One (Frankie Morales x reader)

Summary : Usually, you’d be babysitting your friend Jessie’s son but you had to come into work. Your colleagues are really excited because “the boys” are here, so you get the chance, for the first time, to see what the fuss is about. You probably need to get laid. 

Author’s note : This is gonna be a four or five chapter story, not clear on that yet. Frankie isn’t here much but the endgame is Frankie x Reader. This chapter is really here to set up the reader’s relationships and workplace.

Warning : Harassment 

____________________________________________________________

Chapter One :

« Yup, they’re here, » confirmed Anna, with a wink in Jessie’s direction, before she closed the kitchen’s door and went back to wait on the patrons. You were confused for a moment, but Jessie was jumping up and down in the small space, almost knocking over a bunch of plates she had been cleaning just before. She was vibrating with excitement. 

« You’re finally going to see what the fuss is about ! » She all but screamed. It dawned on you, then. 

The boys. 

So, here’s the story : once in a while, always on a Saturday, four dudes come in, sit down, drink a few beers, chat for a bit and call it a night. There used to be five, apparently, but one of them must have been kicked out of the group, according to Jessie. One of them is usually a little banged up - always the same. One of them always makes a point to flirt with whoever is waiting on them but it’s harmless. They tip well. Nothing special, right ? Except apparently, they’re hot. And Jessie juggles with this job and the kid, and she’s on her own, has been for a while now, so it is a big deal. Apparently. 

You’d been a bit worried with all the fuss she made about those guys, but then you remembered that her last date had been months ago and had ended with her coming home in tears, self-depreciating bullshit spilling out of her mouth, about her life, her failed mariage, the state of her car and the way she drank beer instead of wine and she shouldn’t because wine is more refined. 

So. You’d been worried. But you figured that nothing seemed wrong with those men, and that a little fantasy was harmless and sometimes needed. 

You’d never had first-hand experience with the four guys, though. You worked every other Saturday night but Jessie and you had an agreement with your boss, so you could babysit her kid the Saturday she worked since she couldn’t afford to pay someone. This Saturday, though, you had to make do and find someone to mind Clara because Phil, the cook, was sick and someone needed to replace him. 

You couldn’t cook for shit and Jessie could, so she was in the kitchen, you tended the bar and Anna waited on the patrons. You let her friend get a well-deserved sneak-peek at the table before you made your way back to the counter, making an off-hand, harmless remark that she needed to get laid as you walked through the door. Once you got behind the counter, you took a deep breath and looked around. 

Time to see what all the fuss is about. 

The place wasn’t overly crowded for a Saturday evening, but it was still early. You spotted the table pretty easily. It was one a bit away from the others, isolated, separated from most of the room by the pool but far enough from it not to be disturbed by the players and-

Oh. 

Oh. 

Maybe you needed to get laid, too. 

———

You were staring. You knew you were staring. Hard. But then again who on earth allowed those four men to look that good. Men should never look that good. Men that looked that good were trouble. And three of them definitely looked like trouble. It was written in the way they sat, like they were at home and not in a public space with other people, legs spread wide, radiating confidence. The last one, the one with a cap on his head, was on the shyer side, but still-

Trouble.

Here’s the thing. That dating thing, that wasn’t on your mind. You gave it a shot a few years back. You’d met her in college, and when you’d both ended up with an art history degree that proved to be useless, you’d moved in together, and you’d tried to open a bookshop that crashed and burned in less that two years, and all of your savings with it. Something had cracked in your relationship, then, and you’d both tried to fix it because you’d had a good thing. The break-up hadn’t been ugly, but mending both your broken hearts had taken time. You still called each other from time to time, true to your last promise : when things get easier, let’s not be strangers. It had been her - Linda - who had said it. You hadn’t had the heart, then. Now, five years later, you were glad she had. 

Five years later, you found yourself back in your home state, bartending on a Saturday night, that art history degree still useless but no longer leaving a sour taste in your mouth, a bitter sense of waste of time and money. You hadn’t had a date in three years - he had been nice, really pretty, you’d dated for a while but he’d wanted to become a big Wall Street boy and you just weren’t into that. It might be time to reconsider getting laid if you couldn’t look at a bunch of hot dudes without your brain turning to jelly, though. 

Somebody cleared of throat right in front of you and you snapped out of it, apologizing before getting the man’s order, good that his presence would prevent you from drifting away too much. Then the rush came, and you forgot about the table for a while. 

———

When Anna came back to give you a bunch of orders, she did so with an eyebrow slightly raised in expectation. You knew she wanted your feedback on that table, but you didn’t want to agree with Jessie and her, so you shrugged in a way you hoped looked casual and unaffected. She saw right through your bullshit. 

« Fine », you whispered. « They’re hot. Hot. » 

The patron at the barstool turned his head towards you and you felt your face burn. So much for whispering. Anna only laughed, head tilted back, her blonde hair waving as laughter shook her body. She was 25, beautiful in a traditional way. She was genuinely nice, and always saw the good in people. She was to this world what Jane was to Pride and Prejudice. 

Which is why, when the man sitting on the barstool leaned and said to her :

« You’re a pretty one, too. »

She just smiled and thanked him. Of course, he had to take that as an invitation. This could have been the beginning of a very beautiful story if not for the fact that he was old enough to be his father, knew it, didn’t care, and that this beer obviously wasn’t his first one. You hadn’t noticed when he first sat down but now that he had leaned in, you could smell it. He reeked of alcohol. 

« Wanna grab a drink sometimes ? See where that leads us ? »

Anna politely declined, and made to leave, but he grabbed her arm. You could tell it wasn’t meant to hurt her, just to hold her back, to prevent her from leaving, but you felt yourself tense. 

« Sir, » you said in a tone you hoped sounded firm and steady, « I’m going to ask you to leave my colleague alone. » 

He turned his head towards you and Anna took the opportunity to free herself from his grasp. She looked at you a second, a silent question (are you gonna be okay ?), and seemingly satisfied by your slight nod, she took off. 

« You’re not bad yourself, you know. » 

Steeling yourself, you turned to the patron. 

« This is inappropriate and I’m not interested, Sir. » 

But the man was relentless. When you said no for the third time he started muttering to himself, something about women all being bitches to him. You were getting really tense, and looked around to see where Anna was. She was at the boys’ table, watching you. Actually, the whole table was watching you as one of the men - the beat up one, your mind registered - was walking your way with purpose. 

— —— 

You were staring again, you realized. The man had taken a barstool too, right in front of you, and was waiting for you to say something. Probably a sentence. A coherent sentence. 

« Hi, what can I get you ? » 

Nice. One word at a time. You could do it. 

« Nothing, I just wanted to introduce myself. I’m Benny. » 

He offered his hand. You took it. He was all sharp angles and there was something wild and dark in his eyes, but he had a nice, warm smile. Your hand seemed tiny in his. After a beat, you told him your own name. He gestured behind him, towards the table, still looking your way.

« My pals over there and I were wondering if you were new. Never saw you around. »

« I’m not. I guess I’m not around when you guys are. » 

« That’s what your colleague said. »

Bullshit.

He knew you saw right through it, and you tried to convey the fact that you appreciated the gesture without saying anything too obvious. There was no doubt that Benny would have no problem getting physical with the other guy at the counter if needed. But the man in question was standing awfully still, like he got the same vibe off of Benny you did. He’d stopped muttering and was looking very intently at his bottle. Benny kept going, and you soon saw what he was doing. He slightly turned and pointed towards his friends. You noticed Anna had gone back to work. 

« See the blonde guy over there ? That’s my idiot of a brother, Will. Guy with the cap is Frankie. Last one is Pope. » 

You raised your eyebrows at that. 

« Pope ? »

« Sorry, force of habit. His name is Santiago. Santi for short. We used to serve, Pope was his call sign, and I guess it stuck. » 

He shrugged, keeping the conversation light, but the mention of four ex-military casually sitting there and checking on you was enough for the other patron. He got up and left without a word. Your sigh of relief didn’t go unnoticed. 

« Santi saw something was off a while back with that guy, when he grabbed your colleague … »

« Anna », you automatically corrected.

« When he grabbed Anna, » Benni obliged. « She confirmed when she came to take our orders. » 

« Thank you. » 

You were used to dealing with that kind of stuff, but it was nice to have back-up, especially when the usual one wasn’t there. Normally, you’d go to Phil in the kitchen, but today, Jessie wouldn’t have been much of a match against a drunk guy would wanted some. Jessie, who was standing, you saw, right outside the kitchen door, gaping at you. 

« I never got your order », you stated, turning your attention back to Benny. 

He gave it again and you smiled. 

« It’s on the house. » 

———

« So his name is Benny. The blonde one, Will. That’s his brother. Then Santiago and Frankie. »

« Yes but which one is Santiago and which one is Frankie ? » all but whined Jessie. 

You were closing the place. Anna wasn’t saying anything but you could tell she was listening intently. 

« A bit too old for you, aren’t they ? » You quipped. 

She just laughed. 

« No harm in looking. » 

She was right. No harm. Meanwhile Jessie, arms waiving all around, complained :

« How come I tried to get their attention for weeks and something happens the first time you see them ? » 

« Yeah, it was a real pleasure to get harassed. I made sure it happened for the attention. All part of a very good plan. »

« Oh come on, » she shoved you playfully « you know what I mean. » 

The parking lot was empty. The cool air around you was quiet except for the occasional sound of a car going down the street nearby. The three of you fell silent, walking to Anna’s car. You kept silent during the drive, too, exhaustion settling in your bones. You knew you were lucky : tomorrow was your day off. Neither Anna nor Jessie had that chance. You’d be sleeping on Jessie’s couch tonight, just so you could babysit Clara. Your foggy brain betrayed you, then, and a bad thought came to you like a stab in the back :

When was the last time you saw a movie ? Went to an exhibit ?

You buried it, like you did every time you reminded yourself you were not where you thought you’d be at your age. When Anna pulled over in front of Jessie’s house, you thanked her and waited, silent again, as Jessie thanked her babysitter, winced as she paid her - you knew that was not something she could afford - and went to check on her sleeping girl. You were making yourself at home, preparing the couch for the night, thoughts of Benny and other hot dudes, ex-military guys entirely forgotten when you heard, soft and broken :

« I know it’s silly. This whole thing. I just … I wish someone would look at me, you know. » 

`

Jessie was standing in her living room, lost and desperate. You stopped, right then. The bags under her eyes were dark. She wasn’t going to cry, you knew that. The way she spoke, with finality, like she was convinced no one would look at her ever again, made your exhausted body tremble with anger. You closed the space between the two of you and held her for a while. 

Later, as you were plugging your phone, you saw a text from Linda. 

Hey, just checking on you. Everything good, these days ? Saw that French movie you told me about. It’s great ! Seen it yet ? I know you were excited. Don’t be a stranger ;)

You thought back on Jessie’s words. Somebody, at some point, had looked at you. Had seen you for who you were and had embraced every one of your qualities and your flaws. You didn’t miss it. It didn’t hurt anymore. But you remembered how beautiful it had been. Jessie’s marriage was never like that, from what you could tell. If you picked up the phone right now and called Linda, she would be there for you. If Jessie picked up the phone, all she’d get would be a reminder that her ex-husband had changed his number and couldn’t be reached in any way. 

You were lucky, you realized with a sharp sense of guilt. 

You were lucky that you’d had that, with Linda. And you were even luckier that you didn’t need anyone to look at you. You didn’t need anyone to see you for who you were. 

You didn’t. 

You didn’t.

[theparadoxmachine]

What the hell was that?

First, new LOTR thing happened (not RoP) and the movie opened with Gimli sacrificing himself against a threat I never saw by setting himself on fire which was shown in utter detail. So thanks for that. Then there was a scene where a couple elves were picking on a dwarf, saying the dragon they were on a journey with would eat him, only for him to reveal that during a storm the dragon let him braid her mane (the dragon had a mane I guess) all while climbing onto her back, saying they'd become fast friends.

Then the dream shifted into what I can only describe as a cross between Back to the Future and the Frighteners. Instead of staying in the past, Doc brought Clara to live in the future. She waked up in bed and screams because there are a bunch of ghosts there, including Marty. Only my brain apparently forgot what his name was until now because they all called him Peter and he looked like Clark Griswold/Chevy Chase but was still voiced by Michael J Fox. Also his dad was the dad from Boy Meets World instead of Crispin Glover. Apparently though Marty had sacrificed himself to save Doc and was ok with it, except he was starving and wanted breakfast. Doc was devastated but Marty's parents took it in stride and offered to try feeding him.

But as soon as they opened the fridge the Judge from the Frighteners rolled out of it, only now he was a cyborg in a mechanized chair (still a ghost though) but then he stopped and realized that thousands of bugs had taken up residence in his body and were about to burst out of a hole in his neck. I had to make a run for it out the back door and then I woke up and decided I was done sleeping

[crimsonandcloverwrites]

bhah ch3 reread u know the drill

what is Jamie doing with all this oil I am concerned

god the tension of knowing Jamie is there but not talking to her but Dani probably secretly hoping she will

aww is she picking up more wonder woman comics for mikey?? cute

gah I love that they slip back into playful banter so easily despite everything going on

also 10/10 that the gays in town would be trying on the tackiest sunglasses in the service station (and 12/10 that Jamie actually brought them)

Dani Carson car adventures!! i would read a whole 20k word chapter just on that

sdfkjdshjfhd Dani throwing herself to the ground when she sees Jamie in the supermarket I’m losing it

“Yeah and then she left” ouch

THREE GAYS IN A SUPERMARKET WHAT WILL HAPPEN

aww Jamie Carson reunion tooooo cute

oh my god the tension of them standing back to back trying not to touch lmao

Jamie rly is the teeniest in town huh

Dani getting all protective and mad over Mikey having to sit outside school is v sweet

Jamie to the rescue how cute

Jamie’s collarbone: hello. Dani’s gay panic: LOOK AWAY

also sdkjfhdkjhg Jamie working w her hands is so hot we need more fics just talking about her getting dirty. for the good of the nation

there is so much going on here the cute teasing Dani feeling all weird abt their whole dynamic jamie giving her looks the engagement ring I am not equipped to process all of it

“you think there are secrets in this town?” just ur burning love for each other ladies!

once again mechanic!jamie... i am compromised

aww Dani bby literally does not know what to do with herself. the juxtaposition of the depth of their relationship and the little moments of familiarity with the awkwardness of people who don’t really know each other properly anymore is so fucking well done here

Eddie’s “honey I’m home” moment carrying her over the threshold afkjhsdkjf good for him

Dani and this house got beef huh

Dani: sometimes things with Eddie just don’t feel right but I’m sure that’s fine. Dani when she loses a tiny piece of her relationship w Jamie: level 5 meltdown. Literally the theme of this fic is “honey you got a big storm comin” and I love it

this dig at pineapple on pizza........ offensive

“Instead, she reset her mask, pulled the rope to part the stage curtains, and tied the other end around her neck.” Jesus.

“the other part of Dani, the part that never knew how to stop missing Jamie” i will cryyyy

starting a gofundme for Dani’s car asap

Eddie putting the moves on I can’t look. but lmao when he finds a girl that’s actually into him and wants this kind of attention his whole world is gonne be rocked

can we get Dani some therapy pls this is not how u should feel abt the person ur gonna marry. or about yourself

*gasp* the wontons mixtape

hmmmm I’m Not in Love and A Case Of You really are a one-two punch huh

lol I just went to play them and I was apparently in the middle of listening to Stop Making This Hurt by The Bleachers which feels... apt

fuck. making a mixtape for someone truly is peak romance huh? music my beloved

hmmm i just realised that this timeline parallels the flashback chapters w a new Taylor in school in each how cool. and also Nan vs Jamie taking on responsibilities w these kids and stepping up for them in their own way pls my emotions

aahh the coffee date I kinda forgot how fast Dani made this relationship rekindle bless her

wait clara and horace does that mean abigail is in Dani’s class too??? she lives??

a reserved sign pls that’s so cute

OWEN! god I love the levity and banter w Jamie he brings to fics

there is just so much fondness between them it always shines through no matter what they’re talking about I love it

this backpacking chat... envisioning Dani n Jamie once Mikey is grown up going on a big tour of europe together n fufilling Dani’s dreams

the fact that Jamie was drawn back to this place... by what hmmmm ms taylor. by what

oof this really is a painful rehashing of the past huh.

“star hike” lmao

"I can fix it." "You can't." OUCH

ooft just rip the bandaid right off. “I missed you. Everyday.” god my heart

arguing in an alley behind the pharmacy that’s gay rights

"Because if it was going to end, then I wanted it over quickly!” jamie ‘everyone always leaves so I cut them off before they can hurt me‘ taylor everyone. I am not doing well

ok with the context of like... everything from the future chapters this scene hits even harder than the first time i read it jesus

still can’t get over Dani ‘trying not to recall the memories of the last time they were in this room together’ was Jamie absolutely falling to pieces in her arms *screams forever* i remember reading that line and imagning so many things it could have been and yet yall went for the ultimate stab to the heart bravo

god I’m just thinking about how much they’ve both changed in those 10 years and how much they’ve stayed the same and just. god the way they’re so drawn to each other still!!!! i can’t even comprehend

blue schrunchie cherished friend

i feel like there is a significance to the red door I cant place and all my brain will provide is “you, me, her” but polyamory adventures is probably not the direction this is going

Jamie like “want a tour of ur future home babe? lets go” (I do love how enchanted Dani is by all of it though)

gah I love Jamie and Mikey together soooo much

find u a person that eats all the foods u don’t like. pickle soulmates

heh “Miss Dani” poor Mikey is goin through it lolol

they are all so cute together i love this lil sunday afternoon family

“Dani kept her gaze fixed on Jamie for just a second longer, studying her profile” gay

there has been several mentions of Jamie’s unreadable/blank expressions this chapter and I can’t stop laughing at her losing her mind over how much she loves Dani and trying to keep it in check every time

THEY’RE FRIENDS AGAIN

AND THEY’RE HUGGING OH HAPPY DAYS

oooh the sandalwood cologne

idk why this Jamie Eddie handshake is making me laugh so much but I love them

Eddie pulling Dani in closer to himself when Jamie’s there..... he knows 

staying awake until 2am to finish rereading gay fanfiction... clownery (but fun!) goodnight

[salthaven]

An Odd Day for a Normal Girl

@soap-lady I’m not quite sure I did this right, and I wrote this in an odd haze of ‘what’s the most ridiculous way Marinette could end up dating her crush, who is also a superhero, to the point where she questions life’ and this mess of like 3k words appeared so...here we go? Thanks for the prompt, haha!

An Odd Day for a Normal Girl

Marinette Dupain-Cheng is a normal girl with a normal life. She goes to school with her best friend who’s a model, she designs for superstars, and she’s head over heels for one half of the Parisian superhero duo that saves the city on a weekly basis. Just like any average girl.

Okay, so maybe that’s not quite normal. Maybe Marinette should explain a bit. Maybe…

So basically, there’s this crazy guy named Hawkmoth. He wants the Miraculous- those are magical pieces of jewelry, no she’s not crazy- of the Ladybug and Black Cat. Those two are in use, being held and wielded by Scarlet Lord and Chat Noir, two heroes who protect civilians from danger and stop the Akuma- Hawkmoth’s monster villain guys- from destroying everything. Understood? Great.

So Marinette may or may not have a crush on Scarlet Lord, but she has good reasons! The reasons: He’s kind, polite, charming. (Not to mention he’s literally saved her life over twenty times by now.) So maybe she’s a bit of a damsel in distress, she can’t help how she turns to mush when he looks at her! And God forbid if he protects her, her brain practically shuts off from the overheating of her face. She’s lucky that she doesn’t know the boy behind the mask, she’d die on the spot from embarrassment!

(It doesn’t help that all of her friends encourage her feelings. Even Félix, her normally calm- albeit rather easily flustered- friend when it comes to matters of the heart, encourages her ‘pursuit’, as he calls it.)

Speaking of the blond, Félix is the cousin of Marinette’s best friend- Adrien Agreste. Local heartthrob and Paris’s sunshine child, Adrien is the poster child of the perfect son. He’s smart, fluent in multiple languages, great at fencing, and has a natural knack for physics. He’s a model, with good looks and a father who is a king of fashion. He’s the stereotypical rich kid- until people look away. Then he’s punning away, sneaking off in little acts of rebellion to hide in Marinette’s house where they play Ultimate Mecha Strike and eat pastries until their fingers are sore and their stomachs are full. 

Oh, and what’s more? Adrien is Chat Noir, holder of the Black Cat Miraculous. His ‘kwami’, as he calls it, accidentally outed himself when Marinette brought up cheese pastries for the first time. 

Of course, this naturally means he’s become Marinette’s wingman, determined to get his best friend together with his partner in crime- er, uncrime? Partner in defeating crime? Marinette isn’t good at making up names...but she is good at designing.

Which brings up the last thing. Marinette wants to be a designer, that much everyone knows. She’s done work for Jagged Stone, Clara Nightingale, and a few others by now. She’s been praised by Audrey Bourgeois and Gabriel Agreste...and she works under Félix’s mother, Amelie, as an intern. 

(She’s still not convinced that Félix didn’t pull a few strings. ‘A keen eye for talent’, sure. Marinette is still grateful and honored, of course.) 

So yeah. A normal life, right? 

But that’s enough about Marinette. For now, she needs to get to school. If she’s late,

Félix and Adrien will make fun of her for the rest of the day. “She can already hear Félix’s exasperated, “How can you even do this? You live right across the street!” paired with Adrien’s giggles.)

Luckily, Marinette gets to class a few minutes before the bell, giving her time to sit in her spot behind Adrien and pull out her stuff. Félix is already in his spot beside her, reading his book. He looks up at her with a small smile and approving nod before turning back to his reading. Marinette doesn’t try bugging him, she knows just how much the blond likes his quiet time before class starts.

The other blond, however, does not want quiet in the morning, and is quick to turn around in his spot to beam up at her, accidentally knocking Nino a bit with his sudden turn.

“Marinette!” Adrien cheers. “How have you been? How was your night? Anything interesting? Ooh, did you start working on that new design you were telling me about?” He’s practically bouncing in excitement, and Marinette can’t help but giggle as she nods.

“I’ve been good, my night was good, and yes. I’ve started gathering all of the fabrics that I’ll need for my Scarlet Lord design. I think I’m going to make it the dress, rather than the suit.”

Félix’s head jerks up at Marinette’s words. “You’re making a Scarlet Lord themed dress?”

“Yeah?”

Félix’s face turns oddly red as he nods stiffly. “I see. Tell me how it goes?”

“Sure?” Marinette blinks, confused by the sudden awkwardness in Félix’s posture, the stiffness that seemed to appear out of nowhere.

“Thank you,” he says, and then turns back to his book.

Odd. 

“Anyways,” Adrien sighs out after a moment, cutting through the silence, “I still think you should make a Chat Noir design. 

Marinette snorts. “Okay, Adrien. Maybe I’ll make a skirt one day?”

“Or a hoodie!” Adrien leans further over his chair, eyes bright. “You could give it little cat ears.”

“Absolutely not,” Marinette says teasingly.

“Why not?”

“Simple. I’m not a furry like Chat Noir is.”

Adrien sputters, face pink. “Chat Noir is not a furry.”

“He wears cat ears. And a tail.”

“That doesn’t mean-”

“Adrien,” Félix interrupts, setting his book back down. “He wears a bell.”

Marinette laughs at the wounded expression on Adrien’s face. “See? Félix gets it.”

“W-well, Scarlet Lord is a buggy, so-”

“A what?”” Félix cuts Adrien off again, nose curled in disgust.

“A buggy. You know, the insect version of a furry. Even weirder,” Adrien sniffs with disdain. “And you guys think Chat Noir is weird.” 

“Scarlet Lord is not a buggy!” Marinette says with a huff. “He doesn’t wear fake antennas or anything! The guy doesn’t even have wings.”

Adrien smirks. “Marinette, you’re even weirder than Chat Noir or Scarlet Lord.”

“What? Why?”

“Because you have the biggest crush on a buggy.” 

Marinette feels like her face is up in flames as she tries to respond. She’s too busy sputtering to see how Félix blushes and looks away. 

Luckily for Marinette, the Akuma alarm goes off. (Okay, maybe that isn’t something to feel lucky about, but Marinette lives in an odd world!) With the alarm, Adrien jolts in his seat, quickly dashing out of the room with a rushed excuse of, “Gotta go bathroom bye!” 

Marinette snorts, missing how Félix slips out right behind his cousin as she turns to face the class.

“Where’s the Akuma?” She asks Alya, who’s already pulling up the news. The aspiring journalist always seems to know what’s up, and clears her throat after a few seconds.

“Heading this way. Another love Akuma, apparently he got rejected and doesn’t want anyone else to feel the same. Name is Bleeding Heart.” Alya’s eyes widen. “Oh shit! Guys, he’s outside the school.”

Marinette gulps, hearing the sudden loud and heavy footsteps that only an Akuma can have. In a flash, she’s jumping up. “Everyone, we need to move,” she urges, but it’s too late. Suddenly, the door is being slammed open, and the class gasps.

Bleeding Heart smiles, and Marinette shivers at the pure glee on his face that contrasts with the dark blue tear tracks that fall down his face. He turns his head slowly, eyeing everyone in the room before chuckling.

“Matchmaker, matchmaker, make me a match,” he mutters to himself, then nods. “Of course! For you, I’ll find the perfect pairings. After all, nobody should ever feel how I have.” Nodding once more, the man lifts both of his hands, forms finger guns, and ‘fires’. Suddenly, red strings shoot from the tips of his fingers, one latching onto Max, the other hitting Alix. Bleeding Heart snaps his fingers, and the ends remove themselves from their fingers and fly to their other half, tying together in a heart-shaped knot. 

Marinette feels her eyes widen as Alix and Max turn to each other with love-stricken smiles.

“Alix,” Max says, stepping closer, the string retracting with every move. “I know there is a ninety nine point nine percent chance that I feel this way due to Bleeding Heart’s attack, but the point zero one percent moves me to confess that I have fallen in love with you.”

Alix blushes, moving closer as well. “I love you too, nerd.” They’re right in front of each other, and then they’re leaning in and-

Marinette looks away as Bleeding Heart fires again, quickly latching Sabrina and Kim together.

“Brains and brawns, a perfect pair!” Bleeding Heart cheers as he snaps his fingers. Then he turns again, and his grin turns into a beam. “Oh, look at you two! You’ve already found your match, how sweet!”

Marinette spares a glance back, and sees how Rose cowers behind Juleka, the goth holding a protective stance in front of the blonde. Both blush, but neither correct the Akuma. Which is smart, because he quickly moves on to find a new target. 

His eyes lock onto her, and Marinette tenses.

“Little dear, you’re so lonely! We simply must find you somebody to call your other half! Let’s see, who might it be?” 

“I believe you should let her choose for herself,” Scarlet Lord’s voice rings clear through the air, and Marinette feels her heartbeat racing as he steps closer. 

“You!” Bleeding Heart cheers. “You must be her other half!” He raises his fingers, and Marinette feels her eyes widen.

“Don’t waste your time, they’re already an item,” Chat Noir says cheekily as he tosses his baton at the Akuma. 

“They are?” Bleeding Heart asks, eyes showing distrust and hope all at once. 

Marinette freezes, mouth open but no response coming out. Part of her screams to say yes, because they can’t risk her being attached to Scarlet Lord. He’d be slowed down in battle by their string, and if he was forced to love her, that’d be a distraction. And yet another part of her yells no, because it feels selfish to force Scarlet Lord to pretend, to play into a false relationship with her. Because it wouldn’t feel fake, even just for the few minutes, for her. Marinette knows her feelings, knows she’d-

“We are,” Scarlet Lord says calmly. “And I don’t appreciate you threatening my dear.”

Marinette feels her face heat up at the gasps around the room, and shrinks in on herself.

“How precious,” Bleeding Heart cooes. “What a shame that I have to take your Miraculous now.” Then he leaps at Scarlet Lord, hand outstretched. Luckily, Scarlet Lord is as quick as he is smart, and jumps out of reach, swinging his yoyo to knock the window open before pulling Marinette to his side. 

“Let’s go, love,” Scarlet Lord says, and then he’s racing to the window and leaping out, pulling them away from danger. The wind races through Marinette’s ears as the classroom becomes farther and farther away, and Bleeding Heart becomes a spec chasing after them, Chat Noir behind him, trying to distract the Akuma. 

When they’ve gained enough distance, Scarlet sets her down. It’s only now that Marinette sees how red faced the hero is. 

She has no doubt that her face is matching.

“Thank you,” Marinette breathes out. Scarlet, somehow, turns even redder.

“Of course. I couldn’t let you get hurt, my dear,” Scarlet says softly, and then he looks away. “Your...friend was live streaming, wasn’t she?”

Marinette blinks, then gasps. “Alya? Oh, oh no…” Knowing the journalist, Alya had likely started recording the moment Bleeding Heart entered the room...meaning the whole city would soon know of Marinette and Scarlet Lord’s ‘relationship’. “She probably was.”

Scarlet nods. “I see.”

“I’m sure that we can explain what happened later!” Marinette says quickly, although her heart squeezes. She tries to push away the odd hopefulness in her heart as she continues. “They’d understand! I mean, we haven’t been seen together in public often-”

“I’ve saved you at least twenty times by now, my dear,” Scarlet Lord corrects. “And you’ve helped me in battles with my Lucky Charm-” a flash of light, and a tube of spotted lipstick falls from the sky, “multiple times. Oh, shit.” Scarlet Lord glares at the object in his hand as if it offended him, then sighs. “I have a feeling that if we try to explain it away, the people of Paris will only believe I am trying to protect you from harm.”

Marinette frowns, eyes scanning the city. (It’s to watch for danger, she tells herself, not because she’s too scared to look into Scarlet Lord’s eyes and see annoyance or, worse, indifference.) “I suppose you’re right. So...what should we do?”

“Well, we can always pretend to be dating,” Scarlet Lord suggests. “And after a few weeks, if you’d like, we can break it off. Say that it was too dangerous, that it’s too risky to try.”

“Right. You’re right, it’d be stupid to continue,” Marinette agrees, and a little bit of her heart cracks.

“I’m sorry,” Scarlet whispers, so soft that Marinette almost misses it. “I know this must be...upsetting.”

Marinette forces herself to laugh, blinking away tears that spring forth as she thinks of the irony in her life, that she’d be stuck fake dating her crush, and accidentally rejected without ever confessing. “Why would it be upsetting?” Marinete asks, facing him with a forced grin. “I mean, who else gets to claim they’re dating the Scarlet Lord?” She looks away, the grin falling. “Let’s...let’s go defeat the Akuma. Maybe he’ll...maybe he’ll be distracted if he sees us acting like a couple?”

“Of course,” Scarlet Lord agrees, and then, as if in a story, his yoyo begins to ring. He answers it, Chat’s face filling the screen.

“Hey, are you two done talking or whatever?” Chat asks, leaping behind a building before glancing away. “Because Bleeding Heart is getting real pissed that I won’t stand still long enough for him to pair me up with anyone, and I don’t exactly have someone to claim as my secret girlfriend right now!” The words pierce Marinette’s heart, and she shifts uncomfortably as Scarlet Lord sighs.

“We’re on our way. Where are you, Chat Noir?”

“I’m on the- oh shoot!” Chat jumps out of the way as a red string flies past him. “Gotta go, check my location, bye!” 

The call ends. 

“Let’s get to the fight,” Scarlet says lightly, and then he pulls her to his side once more before swinging off…

Bleeding Heart is easy to deal with. Sure, Scarlet ends up having to run off and detransform right after they get there (thanks again, Lucky Charm), but when he comes back he’s fierce and fast, taking the Akuma down with ease. The moment Miraculous Ladybug is cast, Marinette finds herself backing away from the fight. Of course, life isn’t quite so easy.

“Miss!” A reporter cries out, darting over to her. “How does it feel to be dating one of the heroes of Paris?”

A second man shoves a microphone in her face, adding on, “How long have you been dating? How did he ask you out? Is it hard to date when one half hides behind a mask?”

“Do you know his identity?” A third person questions, more following suit, and Marinette feels herself freezing once more.

But then Scarlet lays a hand on her shoulder protectively, and Marinette leans into his hold. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t interrogate my dear,” he says, voice icier than she’s ever heard, and the reporters freeze. “Our love life is private, and the details are for the two of us to know.” He glares at the reporters, then turns to Marinette. “Would you like me to drop you off at home, love?”

Marinette blushes scarlet, shaking her head slowly. “I, I should head back to class.” 

“Of course. Allow me to be of service.” With a soft smile, he lifts her up gently before heading off.

Marinette tries to ignore how her heart sings while her stomach drops. It’s all too much.

He reaches the school too fast and yet all too slow, and sets her down as gently as possible, making sure that she regains her footing on the ground before letting go of her completely. Marinette backs up, trying to head back to class, to pretend that this day hasn’t been mortifying and painful, that she won’t cry from embarrassment and heartbreak later on. 

“Thanks,” Marinette says, then rushes inside. She misses the look of longing on her hero’s face. 

It’s worse at school, with her classmates over the moon by the sudden news.

“I thought you just had a crush on him!” Alya exclaims. “I had no clue you were dating!”

“We wanted privacy,” Marinette forces the words out, trying not to find joy. She’s disgusting, leeching happiness out of this mess, isn’t she?

Adrien smiles apologetically, and Marinette sighs. She can’t blame him, he was just trying to help. She smiles back as best as she can, and he seems to slump in relief. Then class resumes, and Marinette uses the last of her willpower to focus on the lesson and ignore the looks she’s getting from her classmates.

She misses the way Félix watches her, eyes soft and searching for the right answer. She just keeps her eyes on the board...

-----

Marinette sighs as she curls up deeper into her blankets, eating cookies as she tries to ignore the day’s events. But how can she? How can she, when her crush is being thrown into her face in the worst sense of irony to possibly exist? The world must hate her, if it’s playing with her head so cruelly.

A knock sounds through her balcony door. Huffing, Marinette rolls over in her bed. “Go away, Chat! I don’t want to talk right now.” She may have forgiven him for causing this mess, but she can’t just-

Another knock, this one louder. Eyes narrowing, Marinette shoves the blanket off and stands up. Pushing on the trapdoor, Marinette says, “Chat, I’m serious! I really don’t want to talk about this whole mess! Can’t you just-” Scarlet Lord’s eyes meet hers, and Marinette stumbles, barely catching herself. “Leave?” 

Scarlet Lord smiles, albeit rather awkwardly, and holds out a hand to her. She takes it numbly, face heating up. “I figured that you’d like to talk about all of this. Unless you’d prefer that I leave you alone for now?” 

Marinette lets go of his hand and leans against the railing, inwardly cursing her increasingly red face. “No! No. We can talk right now.” 

“Are you sure?” he asks, eyes searching for any signs of doubt. “You seemed rather against the idea, although you did seem to assume I was Chat Noir...why is that?” 

“Oh!” Marinette looks away, missing how his eyes follow hers. “Chat comes around a lot.”

“Does he?” His voice isn’t quite so soft now, almost… jealous? No, there’s no way. He’s probably just upset that Chat is wasting his time with supposedly random civilians...even if Marinette is their most common ally. 

“Yeah. He, uh, he called me the little sister he never had,” Marinette says with a small laugh. “It’s odd, calling a superhero a sibling, but I guess I’ll be claiming I’m dating you, so it’s not that odd now?” Marinette sighs, wistful. “I never thought I’d end up fake dating someone.” 

“Neither did I,” Scarlet admits. “But I’d like to talk about that.”

Marinette nods. “Right, of course.” She shifts, glances to him, then glances away once more. “I thought we figured it out back on the roof though? A,” she swallows, “a few weeks, then we’ll call it off publicly. Right?”

“Right,” his voice seems strained, probably from the tangible awkwardness Marinette is radiating. “I’d like to apologize. For all of this. I don’t know what Chat Noir was thinking when he suggested that.”

“He was trying to keep you safe,” Marinette says, pretending that she doesn’t know Chat’s real motive- being her wingman. “If you didn’t agree, Bleeding Heart would have tried to connect us together. You would’ve been stuck to me, and I would only slow you down.”

“I’m sure we’d find a way to beat him. Two heads are better than one, aren’t they?” Scarlet chuckles, then sighs. “No matter the reason, I am sorry that all of this has happened.”

“I get it,” Marinette blurts out, ignoring how his words stab through her heart. “Don’t wanna be stuck with the clumsy girl who always ends up stuck in battles, yeah? It makes sense, I understand completely. I should be the one apologizing.”

“Marinette,” Scarlet says, hand reaching out and grabbing her shoulder, turning her gently until she’s facing him. “I’m only apologizing because you’re in danger now. I would hate to be the reason you get hurt. You’re important to me, do you know that?”

Marinette blinks. “I am?”

He smiles. “It’s hard to see a pretty, talented girl and not fall for her.” 

Alright, it’s official. Marinette has to be dreaming, or she’s stuck in some kind of story. There’s no way- what kind of- wha-

“Me?!” Marinette gets out, voice high and face burning.

Scarlet Lord nods, hand slipping down from her shoulder to take her hand instead. “My dear, I’m not blind, nor am I a fool. I know that Chat Noir has been trying to set us up...and I wouldn’t be against it.” He squeezes her hand, and Marinette’s heart jumps. “You’re a wonderful girl, Marinette. But…”

“But it’s dangerous. Because I’m a civilian, and you’re a superhero,” Marinette says, and Scarlet Lord nods. “So that’s it.”

“It doesn’t have to be.”

“Huh?”

Scarlet smirks, and oh mon Dieu Marinette is a goner. “Picture this. The next few weeks, we try to work things out in public. We make a big show of it, we’re not comfortable with all eyes on us. We break it off, deciding that it’s best to end things before the public becomes worse.” He chuckles. “And as the public tries to focus on the sudden breakup, they’ll become distracted when they see me flirting with a new teammate that I’m bringing in soon, and I’ll earn her love and we’ll make it very public. Since she has a Miraculous and a secret identity, everything will be alright.”

“I see…” Marinette swallows, unsure where the conversation is going. “And who...who’s the new hero?”

“Well, my dear,” Scarlet Lord says, and then he’s holding out a foxtail necklace, “if you’d truly like to try giving this bug a chance, then the new hero is you.”

-----

Marinette is a normal girl with a normal life. She goes to school with her best friend, who is a model and a superhero, she designs for celebrities, and she’s dating one half of the original superhero duo. Oh, and she’s now a superhero herself, but that’s just an average day in the life of Marinette “Kitsune” Dupain-Cheng’s life. 

[corvidshipping]

Heartbeat

Summary: On a sleepless night, Possum tells Cliff they think his heartbeat is comforting. He’s not quite sure what they mean Pairing: Cliff Stｅｅlｅ/Heather “Red” Bowers (Possum) Warnings: none Rating: G/T Word count: 2.8k A/N: Editing? Outline? bitch what outline here we go

The manor creaked and sighed in the wind, the ancient and fragile upper floors almost seeming to sway with each gust. Cliff's heavy steps echoed through the silent halls, his eyes straining to pick up obstacles in his way with only moonlight to guide him. His outdated cameras failed him often even in good conditions, but in dead of night he usually had to make his way nearly blind, worsened by the lack of other senses like touch. He cringed internally as he noticed, through the static in his hearing that was ever-present now, how loud his footsteps were, and he wished it were easier for him to walk softly. He hoped it wouldn't wake anyone up.

As carefully as one could in a metal body, Cliff made his way down from his bedroom to the living room of the manor. A digital clock glowed softly on the mantle, a nightlight that the Chief liked to keep for Dorothy. The lit numbers read 1:47 AM. Cliff sighed out loud at the sight of it, realizing he had been trying and failing to sleep for almost three hours. He had managed it, at one point, briefly, but was haunted by visions of the past melding with the present - watching the accident over and over from an outside view, every time Clara replaced by someone different. Dorothy, Jane, and at one point, for some reason, Rachel Weisz was there. He watched a specter of his daughter, trapped in her youth, falling into the hands of Mr. Nobody. He saw worlds where he had died, and Clara was retrieved, her brain shoved into a cold, metallic prison, unforgiving and unfeeling. He heard his only child screaming, trying to cry, slowly realizing that robotic eyes could spill no tears. That was the worst dream so far, and the one that jolted him awake hours ago, the one that kept occupying his brain with anxieties and guilt.

An odd feeling rose within him, one he had grown unpleasantly familiar with. In his youth - that is, when he was human - he would grow sick with anxiety, a physical feeling that felt heavy in his gut. Now, with no body, he had no physical response to the near-constant dread, but a phantom response followed him, something he thought of as a leaden ball. It almost always was accompanied by a ghostly chill, one he should not feel - the expectation of a feeling that his brain, the only soft and organic part of him left, still remembered. Uselessly, Cliff shook his head, as if he were a dog trying to clear his ears of water. He tried to pretend the motion helped.

In the dark, Cliff ventured to the couch, dropping heavily onto it. He wasn't sure why, truly, he still sat there. Not like it's any more comfortable than anywhere else, he thought bitterly. He supposed it was habit, or maybe just that these joints were stiff, and it was awfully hard to bend enough to get up and down off the floor. Getting up the stairs was enough of an effort as it was, he didn't need to make life harder for himself. He blinked slowly, he needed to get his mind off this. His thoughts were just running in circles now, a car on an empty racetrack, making endless grim laps.

Somewhere to the right of him, the curtains fluttered over a closed window, the glass fogging just a little.

"Hey, Possum." Cliff's voice was quiet, and tinged with a hint of static tonight. He turned his head to the window to see writing forming, as if drawn by an invisible finger.

"It's late." The window read, drips slowly forming in the condensation. Slowly, the writing faded back into fog.

"Yeah, yeah, like you're one to talk. We're both awake right now." The curtain moved again, gently. He wondered if that was their way of laughing.

In the silvery moonlight, a soft voice rang out, barely audible and almost a whisper. "I'm a ghost. It's my job to haunt people late at night."

The resident bump-in-the-night, Heather Bowers - or as she preferred to be called, Red, and as Jane had christened her, Possum - could not be easily described in generally accepted terms. In the 1970s, when she was in her 20s, she was met with a terrible accident in small-town Ohio that she refused to speak about. At the exact moment of this accident, her latent psychic powers apparently activated, causing her body to cease to exist and become a thoughtform - a living consciousness, separate from a body, that exists only in its own thoughts, spread across multiple planes of existence. They now spent most of their time incorporeal, floating through the halls (and sometimes the walls) of Doom Manor, rattling chains and giving ghostly moans - the usual fare for a stereotypical ghost. At times, they could become corporeal - though it consumed quite a lot of energy - and, as a thoughtform, they could enter others' minds as a concept, especially in dreams, where they could form a body for themself and act corporeal in the sleeping person's dreamscape. It was almost comparable to Mr. Nobody, but rather than using these powers to cause harm and distress, they just tended to act as a year-round Halloween prop. The easiest way to describe her, in that case, was simply as a ghost, or poltergeist. Or at least, that was how Chief described it.

The accent pillows that Rita had insisted on earlier in the month shifted next to Cliff. "You weren't in the dreamscape when I came looking for you." Possum and Cliff had met when the former had begun entering his dreams, seeking an escape from the loneliness and boredom of life as an invisible consciousness. Possum was shocked when Cliff was able to see her and pointed her out as an anomaly in the memory he frequently revisited when he slept, and after she explained her situation to him and the Patrol, they had formed a comfortable routine of her entering his dreams frequently. An open invitation stood now between the two of them, Cliff trusting them never to overstep boundaries or snoop in memories that weren't theirs. It was a symbiotic thing, mutually beneficial; they got to re-experience corporeality and interact with the world, and they could influence the world of his mind, quelling anxiety and keeping nightmares at bay. Plus they were able to help him dream of his old body, so he got to experience human senses again.

Cliff made a sound between a scoff and a laugh. "You wouldn't have wanted to see what I was dreaming about anyway." Immediately, he regretted speaking, knowing that those words would make Possum worry. "It wasn't that bad," he quickly added before she could respond. "Just the usual shit."

There was a heavy silence after that, each passing second making Cliff more and more uncomfortable, wondering what he could say to cut the tension.

Finally, Possum responded.

"I'm sorry. I wish I'd been there earlier," they said gently.

"Aw, don't sweat it, Red." He leaned further forward on the couch, his aging metal joints groaning with the effort. "I'm up now, anyway. And so are you."

A hand reached out from the darkness, pale white and translucent, landing on his arm. He couldn't feel her touch, but he could tell from looking that it was gentle, resting on the plates of his forearm delicately, like he was something fragile, precious. Like she was afraid he would break.

When they spoke, Possum's voice was even quieter, lower, as if she hoped he wouldn't hear her. "Can I... will you, um, rest with me?"

"Huh?"

Possum cleared her throat. "You need rest. I uh, I saw once on the Discovery Channel that if you can't sleep, it's better to lay down and close your eyes, even if you don't sleep. Y'know, it helps, um, y'know, you don't strain yourself that way. Your brain, and stuff."

"Oh. Yeah, I'll be okay, pint-size." Cliff leaned back against the couch arm again. "You okay?"

He heard her inhale, a strange sound in the empty darkness. "Can I sleep with you here, tonight?" Before Cliff could respond, she continued. "It's just that the attic is so far away from everyone else, it's so quiet, and the trains keep coming through, and it's cold up there. And no one's been around all day, you know? I haven't been able to talk to anyone, it's been a bad day for corporeality. And, y'know. The attic is just... really cold."

If he could have furrowed his brows, he would have. Instead, he settled for a nonplussed blink. Briefly, he wondered if she might just be afraid of the dark. The thought made him laugh a bit, the bonafide ghost haunting the manor being scared of the dark in the attic she occupies. "Sure, yeah."

Before him, Possum's figure manifested fully. The nickname "pint-size" was not a misnomer - when Cliff stood at full height next to them, the very top of their head barely hit his shoulder. They were a tiny, ghostly apparition, red hair floating as if they were underwater shocking against the pale glowing white of their skin. Right now, this phantom was floating in midair, as if laying on some bed, one hand propping up their chin and the other still on his arm, their legs kicking slowly behind them. Slowly, moving as if in a pool, they rearranged their body's positioning, pulling their legs under them so they were sitting normally on the couch next to him. Cliff saw the couch shift as they became more corporeal, taking up more weight on the cushions as they became more grounded in physical reality. Once they had fully manifested, they slowly leaned over towards him, eyes averting from his.

They laid their head on his shoulder, gently, like they were testing if he would pull away. He didn't, just looking at them. They took a deep, quiet breath, and relaxed, positioning themself so their head was laying on his chest. Once they were in the position they wanted, they stretched out, the tips of their toes stretching to the other arm of the couch. Cliff shifted a bit, leaning back to make them more comfortable. Possum closed their eyes and smiled, and it reminded him a bit of an extremely self-satisfied cat.

Cliff looked down at their head nestled on his metal torso. "There's no way you're comfortable like that," he muttered, trying to be mindful of his volume with how close to his voicebox their ear was. With the way they smiled when he spoke, he could swear they liked the vibrations of his voicebox in his chest.

She opened her eyes to look up at him, black eyes gazing up at him and glittering like the stars reflected in a deep black pool. Their spectral ailment only served to deepen the effect of their eyes, leaving very little white to their sclerae, completing an otherworldly look. "No, I am. I like to listen to your heartbeat."

Was she making fun of him? "I don't have a heartbeat," Cliff said flatly.

They sat up, propping themself on their arms so they were eye-to-eye with him. "No, you do. Sometimes when we sleep and I'm not in the dreamscape, I listen to it, just like this."

"Possum, I don't have any organs. I barely have a brain." He laughed a bit at the end, trying to cover his confusion.

"I'll show you!" Suddenly, she had bolted upright, and swooped down to the ground like an Olympic diver, passing through the floor towards the basement level. Cliff waited a minute in the silence, the dark no longer lit by their odd phantasmic glow. Finally, they flew back up through a different space in the floor closer to the television with the same vigor. They held a stethoscope in their hands, likely borrowed from Chief's hoard, and Cliff wondered in bemusement what the logic of a solid object passing through the floor with them was.

"Here." They clambered back onto the couch, regaining solidity, and leaned against him. They stretched up to his head, and he leaned forward a bit to help them put the earpieces against the auditory inputs on either side of his head. "Listen!" They placed the resonator against his chest.

Cliff heard nothing, but Possum sat staring at him, their index finger placed against their lips in a hushing gesture. After a moment, he was about to call it quits and say they were hearing things, but their stare was so earnest, he couldn't bring himself to. He waited,

and waited,

and waited,

and Possum shifted the resonator,

and then he heard it.

It wasn't that it had just started. It had been there. But it was a low noise, one he was used to, and when Possum shifted the resonator it only then became loud enough for him to recognize as a sound distinct from his usual background noise.

It wasn't a heartbeat, per se. Not in the organic sense, at least. It was more of a mechanical thrumming, a pulsing, a deep noise that wasn't so much like the beating of a drum as it was like the quiet revving of an engine a few streets over, reduced by distance and acoustics to only its most bassy components. He looked down, and he heard the whirring and whining of the servos in his neck and shoulders through the stethoscope. The placement of the stethoscope was slightly left of center of his chest, where his heart naturally should be.

Possum pulled away the stethoscope, the earpieces falling away from his head. "You hear it, right?"

"That's not my heart," Cliff repeated. "None of my body past my neck was saved. I think that's my nutrient tubes. Or maybe my power system. Or my servos."

"So?" 

"... So what?" He blinked at her.

Possum sat upright and spread their arms out to either side of them, palms up, theatrically. "That's exactly what I'm saying!" They said with overdramatic exasperation.

She let herself fall back onto his body, a soft thud echoing inside his chest. She looked up at him, her eyes wide and serious. "So what? I know it isn't an organ, dummy. It doesn't have to be an organ to be your heart. It's comforting either way. It just reminds me that you're here, right now. It doesn't have to be a literal heart to do that, just as long as it's part of you."

Cliff sat silently, as they shifted back into their preferred positioning. He mulled over their words as they pulled themself as close as possible to his body, snuggling their head into the crevice between his shoulder and chest. Mindlessly, he moved his right arm to the small of their back, like he was supporting them, and his left hand moved to their hair, gently running through the strands, liquid copper over the rust of his fingers.

When he finally moved to respond, he realized they had fallen asleep long ago, letting out small snuffles every once in a while. So instead of giving a retort, he simply pulled them closer to his chest, tighter, like if he held them tightly enough he could feel the warmth of their body or the softness of their skin. He nestled his face in their hair, a nuzzling motion with his nose, and let his eyelids drop closed.

✥﹤ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ﹥✥

The manor creaked and sighed in the wind, the ancient and fragile upper floors almost seeming to sway with each gust. Between the slats of the half-drawn blinds, dawn light crept through the windows, lighting up the motes of dust that floated in the air and landing in stripes across sleeping forms. Cliff slept, now, on the couch, half sitting, Heather's pale form clutched in his arms and her hair tangled over his left hand's fingers like wild vines. In his chest, a mechanical heart thrummed and pulsed in a gentle rhythm, delivering power to his limbs, his brain. There were no nightmares, now, no dreams of his anxieties, no personified guilt; nor did he dream of the past, the bittersweet memories that, though happy, always left him with an empty feeling when he woke. He didn't dream of Clara's youth, of his last phone call to Kate. He didn't dream of Mr. Nobody, he didn't dream of Chief locking him away in an iron prison. He simply didn't dream. For once, it was quiet within his mind, even without the shared dreamscape.

The manor creaked and sighed in the wind, the ancient and fragile upper floors almost seeming to sway with each gust. As the manor began to stir and come to life with the others, Cliff was at peace there on the couch in the living room, and so was Heather.

And two hearts beat between them.

[yehet-about-it]

BEST FRIENDS AND BANANAS: A SERIES OF AWKWARD EVENTS | Semester I Part 17 - Morning Sleepyhead

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~ An NCT Dream x Wayv College AU Social Media Series ~

Updates @ 7pm GMT/1pm CST Monday, Wednesday & Saturday (3AM+1 KST)

Semester I Synopsis: It’s your junior year at college and it’s been over a year since you were in a relationsip, but luckily you’re not short of eligble men to choose from. Your best friends are 6 rowdy boys (aka the dreamies) and your favourite girl Jiwon, but what happens when a fleeting romance with a handsome senior leads to big changes in your relationships?

Pairings: Jaemin x Reader, Best Friend!Renjun x Reader, Hendery x Reader, Choi San x Reader

Genre: College AU, Fluff, Comedy, Light smut in some parts

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of alcohol/drinking, references to a previous sexual encounter, mature content, this part isn’t that explicit but there are several references to sex things, so 17+!!

A/N: No social media for this update just writing! Sorry if it’s not the best, it’s been a while since I’ve written! 

~ Clara x

You woke up groggily, wincing as your eyes adjusted to the morning light. Scanning the room from atop your pillow you were relieved to see that you were in your own room, and not some strangers; that was the last thing you needed on top of the splitting headache that was about to hit you. However, as you became more aware of your surroundings, you realised there was a large bottle of water and several boxes of painkillers set on the nightstand, and suddenly you became painfully aware of the presence behind you.

 Apprehensively, you turned yourself over to see who the guest was taking residence on the other side of your bed, trying your best not to freak out, but your face softened when you saw your best friend shirtless and sat up under your covers, looking down at his phone, which was apparently plugged in to your charger. Your heart swelled at the familiar sight, his hair ruffled and unstyled, and his eyes a little red and tired, reminding you how sweet he was. But then it hit you. Images of the night before started seeping into your mind and you began to remember exactly what you had done. 

 You remembered stumbling hand in hand into the cab, smiling softly at Renjun as you passed by all the people on the sidewalk enjoying their Saturday night. You remembered the look he gave you, before he leaned over in the cab to kiss you for the first time, the raw intensity of it. You remembered kicking off your shoes as you tumbled into your apartment, wrapping yourself tightly around him as he kissed you up against the wall. You remembered his fingers grazing your skin as he hastily rid you of your clothes, his hot breath igniting a fire in your core as he roamed your body looking for your sweet spots. And most of all you remembered how good it felt. 

 Suddenly becoming aware of your changed state of consciousness, Renjun looked up from his phone, snapping you out of your thoughts. “Morning sleepyhead,” he said in his usual sweet tone, dropping his phone back on the night stand, a shy smile on his face. “Morning...” you managed to reply, unable to tear your eyes away from him, still shell-shocked from your memories of last night. “You feeling okay? I found you some painkillers if you need them,” he said calmly. You blinked back at him. The sheer shock had dulled the pounding of your headache but you couldn’t bring yourself to respond. Eventually, you managed to tear your gaze away from him and slowly sat up, resting your head against the head board, making sure to bring the covers with you since it had been brought to your attention that you were completely bare underneath. “Y/n?” He pressed. You looked back at him. “Renjun... I- We-...” Try as you might, you couldn’t finish the sentence. Really, you didn’t know what the hell you were going to say. You’d just had sex with your best friend and no words came to mind other than ‘WHAT. THE. FUCK?’ 

 “Yeah... We did…” Renjun spoke. What you couldn’t understand was how he wasn’t more flustered about the whole situation. Whenever any of the guys brought up any of his hook ups he’d turn red as a tomato and get all defensive, but right now he seemed weirdly collected given the situation you were in. “I’m sorry y/n. I really am,” he started. “We were both so drunk and I suppose it just happened. I- I’m sorry… I couldn’t help it…” You could now just about hear the flustered panic you had expected in his voice, but you weren’t doing any better. “We- we’re best friends! Best friends don’t have sex! What the hell were we thinking?!” You stuttered and there was an awkward silence for a moment as both of you sat there, the guilt sinking in. 

“I know,” he sighed. “I don’t know if you did it because you were drunk and sad about San, but I just couldn’t help it. I was wasted and the way you were being so cute in the cab and looking at me like that I couldn’t stop myself. Please don’t think I took advantage of you, I could never do that to you, and I’m sorry if you’re weirded out...” Your heart broke a little at his words. Renjun may have revealed himself as quite the sexual deviant but you didn’t want him to think he’d hurt you or betrayed your trust. “No it’s okay Renjun, I know you’d never take advantage of me. I mean, I was just as into it as you. But it’s a lot to process... We’re supposed to be the cute wholesome besties and we just had sex!” You squeaked. 

 There was a pause as you stared at Renjun, the bewilderment still evident on your face, but then you couldn’t help but let out a snigger, and soon you were laughing hysterically in your state of panic, at the sheer ridiculousness of the whole situation, and you had to shove your face into your pillow to get yourself to stop. No one would believe the two of you would have such intense raunchy sex. After you became friends the two of you had had to vehemently deny you were dating for months until everyone finally realised you were just two endearing people that happened to become inseparably close. So generally there wasn’t the faintest whiff of suspicion that the two of you might be hooking up, but now you’d both just spent the filthiest night together, exchanging the dirtiest whispers and drowning in the intense pleasure you brought each other. What wasn’t there to laugh about? 

 When you finally stopped laughing you sat up and stretched your head back against the head board. “Jesus, what have we done?” You shook your head trying to process everything. How on earth were you going to explain this? Did anyone else know? Was your friendship with Renjun ever going to be the same?

 “You know, it was really good…” you were pulled out of your thoughts as Renjun spoke, his words taking you by surprise. “I mean, I know you’re my best friend and it’s weird, but I don’t really regret it”. 

 “You don’t regret it?” You squeaked in disbelief. “Not really… I sort of freaked out at first, but I was thinking about it all morning and I realised it’s not that bad. Nothing’s really changed other than now I know how pretty you look naked... and when you’re coming...” You looked up at Renjun, not believing what you were hearing. His expression was serious but his cheeks were tinted slightly pink, showing just a hint of embarrassment. “Oh my god Renjun!” You yelped. Where the hell had your reserved best friend gone? You knew he could be what could be described as ‘satan-like’ when it came to the boys and their bantering, but you’d never known him to be so explicitly sexually forward. “Sorry! Sorry! I’m just saying, you were really good…” When Renjun stopped speaking, a moment passed and you let out a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding. He... was okay with it? What’s more, he even liked it? 

This was all too much for you to process in the morning, especially with a hangover, but then the memories kept playing over and over in your head. Did you like it too? You could feel the dull ache of your core after the pounding it had taken last night and you were reminded of the dirty things he had whispered in your ear as you took him all in. 

“You like that baby girl?” 

“I can make you feel better than San ever could...” 

“Good girl, come for me, that’s it...”

The heat rose in your cheeks as you realised how much you had liked hearing those words. How much you had enjoyed seeing your supposedly angelic best friend become such a sinful and depraved pervert for you. You tried to shake the thoughts off, but it was no use. It didn’t help that Renjun was staring back at you with his cute morning eyes, in all his naked glory, his toned but slender chest exposed above the covers. 

 You blushed furiously, holding your side of the covers a little tighter against your chest. “It- it wasn’t bad I suppose…” you mumbled. Your mind and body were in a heated conflict. Every fibre of your brain was screaming that this was the worst thing to happen to you since Kim Seunghun rejected you in front of your entire class in 5th grade, but the warmth coursing through your body was saying otherwise. 

 Renjun’s words had definitely caused the sexual tension to return to the room and not being able to deal with the awkwardness you busied yourself reaching for the water on your nightstand and popping an aspirin. Swallowing the tablet you sunk back down under the covers and sighed. “We absolutely cannot tell anyone about this Renjun. Absolutely no one. I don’t even want to think about what the guys would have to say about it.” You frowned. You knew if the others were to find out about this you’d never hear the end of it. You’d spent all that time proving to them that there was nothing vaguely romantic or sexual about your relationship with Renjun after their incessant teasing in first year and you weren’t about to shatter the peace in that regard. “Yeah, they give me enough shit as it is,” Renjun agreed. “We’re okay though right? I don’t want this to change our friendship or anything.” Renjun bit his lip as he looked at you nervously. Your annoyance at the thought of the likes of Jeno finding out dissipated when you saw how genuinely worried he looked. Renjun had been your best friend almost since you first met in your freshman year, and at this point neither of you could imagine being without the other and you certainly weren’t going to let a minor inconvenience like accidentally hooking up come between the two of you. “Of course we are junnie, it- it was just a drunken mistake. So we can just forget it and move on,” you said. After all, it was true. It was just sex, and nothing you need fall out over. People had gotten over worse.

 Renjun smiled at you softly, relieved you weren’t mad at him and having discussed the topic to your satisfaction, you sighed a breath of relief. You and Renjun were going to be okay, but you still couldn’t get the image of him hovering above you with his hand wrapped round your thigh as he fucked you out of your mind. Pushing the sexual thoughts to the back of your mind for the sake of your own sanity, you sat for a moment attempting to prepare yourself to get out of bed and start your day. “Well, I guess we should shower and get dressed! I feel gross… We worked up quite the sweat last night” you chirped, just wanting the morning to be over already. Renjun hummed in agreement. “I’d say we should go get food after, but I have an art project I really need to get on with, I’m gonna text Jeno to pick me up.” You pouted, since Renjun always took you to get food when you were hungover, but then you remembered you had a cupboard full of instant ramen you could eat to your heart’s content and you cheered up slightly. “Hm, okay” you sighed. 

 The two of you set about cleaning up, you letting Renjun shower first so you could make yourself decent withhout prying eyes and when you were finished showering you emerged from the bathroom brushing your hair as Renjun sat on the end of your bed lacing up his shoes. “You know, you- really weren’t how I would’ve expected. I guess you really are as perverted as everyone says...” you joked. Renjun chuckled shyly at that, standing up and grabbing his jacket.. “Oh you’ve no idea,” he said. You raised your eyebrows. His angelic image was now well and truly shattered. “Yes, well, please spare me,” you said. “Now get your kinky ass out of my apartment.”

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

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[nxrthmizu]

-Lordbug, Robin and Kitty Noir- Chapter Ten: In Which Three Superheroes Becomes Four

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/Part One//Part Nine/

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[I’m back! With an update1 :D]

Description: 

Warnings: Cursing! Loads of it, actually. 

[As always message me if error spotted! Wasn’t sure if I missed something while proof reading once (1)]

---

Marinette was actually, very surprised. 

She wasn’t panicking at all. The Marinette of a year ago would’ve scrambled everywhere, screeching and breaking down at frightening degrees. Perhaps it was Plagg’s influence and the fact that the black cat miraculous rested on her ring finger. Perhaps that was what calmed her down. Or perhaps it was the knowledge that her two best friends of her life would be next to her no matter what. Or maybe... Just maybe, it was because she had a higher self-confidence. Her designs had been tailored and altered (Within 12 hours, mind you) to perfection and to her level of self-satisfaction, and she had hand-washed, blow-dried, and ironed then all, hanging them up in hangers, waiting for the great moment. 

“Did you hear? Bruce Wayne is coming to Paris!” A student chattered to his friend. “The billionaire, Bruce Wayne!” 

“Woah! I hope we’re lucky enough to catch a glimpse of him.” His friend replied wistfully. 

“He’s done so much charity work!” Rose exclaimed, a wide smile of her face. “I hope I get to meet him!” 

Lila gave Rose a bright grin. “What a coincidence! Bruce Wayne is my godfather- I could ask him to talk to you if you want!” 

Damian rolled his eyes. “I thought Tony Stark was your godfather.” He muttered under his breath. Using his father’s name like that- Honestly, at this point he was physically fighting the urge to prove her wrong. 

“Really? That’s so great!” Rose exclaimed, stars glinting in her eyes. “You really are the best, Lila!” 

The Italian girl brushed it off casually. “I was best friends with his son, David Wayne, in primary. Before I left Gotham, he confessed to me.” Lila sighed dreamily. “Unfortunately, I had to leave Gotham, but he promised that if we ever met again, he would date me. He said it was meant to be.” 

Damian was seconds from vomiting from sheer disgust. 

“Wow!” Alya grinned. “How old were you two when you met?” 

Lila flipped her bangs over her shoulder, a convincing, wistful smile on her lips. “We met when he was five.” She sighed, as if remembering a distant memory. “I used to play with his brothers, along with him. They were all so sweet and so nice to me.” 

Damian made a gagging noise in his throat, which did not go unnoticed by the bluenette next to him, who elbowed him playfully, gesturing for him to keep quiet. She pointed to her phone, which he was delighted to see, had the recording app on. Every word of Lila’s was being recorded, word for word, lie for lie. His lips lit up with a wide grin, a slightly (Only slightly) evil spark in his emerald eyes. Chloe resisted the urge to do her evil laugh. 

“What goes around, comes around.” Chloe sung in a sing-song voice, just loud enough for the three friends (Classmates, Chloe said) to hear. 

---

“Alright, we have everything!” Marinette breathed, checking over all her emergency materials and her backups of backup plans. Plagg hovered over her shoulder, a camembert macaron in his hand. The bluenette had rushed home as soon as school let out, taking the few hours she had before the show preciously. 

“Uh, kid, i think you’re forgetting something.” He said nervously. “Don’t you need a dress?” 

Marinette froze, the gears in her brain realising exactly how correct the chaos god was. “God, you’re right.” Her gaze was fearful as she begin to panic (Habits die hard). 

“Calm down, kid!” Plagg forced out as he swallowed a mouthful of camembert macaron. “Don’t you have that gown that you were working on for Clara Nightingale? You could use that.” 

Her blue hair in between her fingers, Marinette shook her head. “No, I can't do that. She’s my client, I can’t possibly-” The sentence was cut off with the bluenette’s continuous pacing. 

“What about the black dress you were working on a week ago?” Plagg reminded her. “You haven’t finished it yet, but there’s time.” 

Marinette’s eyes lit up. “Yes! I can finish that, yes, yes, yes.” She murmured to herself, shuffling over to her table where stacks of designs and fabrics lay in one giant mess. With a wave of his small paw, Plagg sorted out all the fabrics and made the workspace clear, which earned him an impressed look from his holder. 

“Hey, I can create chaos, but I can solve chaos too, kid. I’m more powerful than you think. And this batch of camembert macarons are really nice!” Plagg shrugged, taking another munch. 

Marinette giggled. “Thanks, kitty.” She kissed him lightly on the cheek, dashing into her closet to dig out her unfinished dress- She had a fashion show to be at, and she needed to look stunning. 

Moments later, Marinette emerged from her closet with a hanger- With a gorgeous- Even half-finished- Dress hanging from it. Black netting- Tinged with silver threads- Formed the collar, dipping into a dark, velvety, black fabric. A heart neckline, perfectly shaped, would show just the perfect amount of the wearer’s collarbone. The top half of the dress was made to hug Marinette’s curves just nicely while the bottom half blossomed into a full, perfect ballgown. The folds of the dress were all evenly distributed. The bluenette had spent hours after school hand-sewing sparkly pearls onto the dress to make it appear like a night sky- Unfortunately, half of dress was still without it’s pearls. 

Marinette bit her lip, looking over the gown. “Alright, I can finish this. I have...” She glanced over at her clock. “Two hours until we have to start preparing for the fashion show...” She nodded steadily to herself. “I got this.” 

“You got this, kid!” Plagg munched approvingly. “Also, I’m just going to discreetly go steal some more of your camembert macarons from downstairs.” This earned him a disapproving look from his holder, but the kwami teleported downstairs anyway. 

---

Ding-a-ling!

A dark-haired boy stepped into the bakery, the familiar, sweet smell of the shop wafting into his nose. He had become accustomed to the sweet scent that came with the Dupain-Cheng’s bakery. 

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Dupain- I mean, Sabine.” He smiled sheepishly as the shorter Chinese woman wagged her finger playfully at him, the playful grin on her lips identical to her daughter’s. 

“Good afternoon, Damian. Would you like some macarons? Recently, Marinette’s been baking a lot of camembert macarons.” Sabine laughed, and Damian, who had no time to protest, could only thank her. The Chinese woman disappeared behind the shop for a while, emerging with a tray of pastel yellow macarons. Damian eyed the tray warily, and in a second, after he blinked, one of the macarons disappeared. He reared back, alarmed, but Sabine, apparently, didn’t notice and only offered him one of the macarons. He took it, looking around carefully. A black blur slammed into the wall, disappearing after that. He could’ve sworn that the black blur held a macaron in it’s hands- Or paws, whatever. 

“Thank... Thank you, Sabine.” Damian said, swallowing the macaron. He coughed, trying to muster up his courage. “Since... Since Marinette’s got her fashion show tonight, I was... I was hoping you could show me how to bake something for her, so I can give it to her.” He was more than embarrassed about his request, and the short, dark-haired woman’s bright beam wasn’t helping the situation. 

The woman nodded. “Ooh, so it’s a surprise? Of course, then! We should make some strawberry cream-puffs- Those are her favourite!” Sabine kept talking animatedly, leading him into the bakery as he filed the new information about his angel in a safe place in his mind. Strawberry cream puffs. Strawberry cream puffs. Strawberry cream puffs. 

“Tom, guess who’s here!” Sabine lead the awkward boy into the bakery kitchen, where the large man Tom Dupain was retrieving a tray of freshly baked bahulu’s (I did my research on pastries okay) from the oven, with a dark blue mitten with a golden MDC embroidery on the side- The trademark of Marinette’s work. 

“Hi.” Damian waved awkwardly, wanting to melt into a puddle right there and then. Maybe he’d been hanging out with Marinette too much- Her habits were rubbing onto him. 

“Well look who it is!” Tom exclaimed with a bright smile, Damian backtracking with a horrified smile as the big man reached for a hug. Damian coughed, being nearly strangled to death as he got bear-hugged until Sabine tapped her husband on his shoulder, gesturing to the pale, oxygen-deprived boy. “Oops.” Tom chuckled, scratching his neck nervously. “Sorry about that.” 

Damian coughed, catching his breath. “It’s- it’s fine. Um, can I learn how to make that...” He waved his hands around awkwardly. “Strawberry cream puff?” 

Tom’s eyes lit up. “Of course! That’s our little Mari’s favourite since she was five.” Tom handed him an apron. “Let’s get started, then!” 

---

“Yum.” Plagg licked his... Lips? Whiskers?- Patting his little paws together to get rid of the flour on them. Marinette was blasting music through her phone as she concentrated on sewing each, individual pearl down onto the ballgown. Each pearl was accompanied by a little spray of luminescent green sequins around it, dusted faintly to give a sort of glow around each pearl. She was about a quarter of the way down through within forty-five minutes. Things weren’t looking that bad. 

But then Hawkmoth just had to be a bitch. 

“Akuma!” The screech of a citizen had Marinette snapping up from her work, wide blue eyes alight with panic. She glanced between her skylight and her ballgown, biting her lip. 

She groaned. “Fuck this, I hate Hawkmoth.” She grumbled, throwing down her needle, pearl, and string. “Plagg, claws out!” 

Damian, on the other hand... 

“Um, do you mind if I take this call for a sec...?” Damian coughed. 

Tom hummed, not having heard the scream of ‘Akuma!’ (Or maybe he just chose to ignore it, he was in his baking zone and nothing would interrupt him). When the big man didn’t reply, Damian just awkwardly shifted out of the backdoor, berating himself for not bringing his backpack with his Robin uniform. With no other choice, he held up the small, faintly spotted ring that he had stringed around his neck with a black chain. “Tikki,” The kwami giggled as her holder sighed in potential regret. “Spots on.” 

---

“Well look who showed up.” Kitty snorted as the spotted hero ran beside her. 

Lordbug didn’t reply but only dashed ahead. He was determined to bake that strawberry cream puff for Marinette- He was determined to finish the entire process by himself. And if he didn’t want his cream puff to burn to bits, he’d better hurry up. “Let’s just get this over with. I’m rushing.” He told her curtly. 

Kitty rolled her eyes. “Yeah, you’re always so busy.” Internally, she thanked him for not taking his own sweet time with the akuma. She needed to get to her dress. 

“Any idea what it is this time?” Queen Bee asked as she joined the other two, flying alongside them. “And where’s bird-boy?” 

Kitty shrugged and Lordbug only coughed. “Maybe he’s busy...?” Kitty said, an unsure tint to her voice. “Pity, kind of hoped to see him today.” 

Queen Bee patted her shoulder reassuringly. “I’m pretty sure he’ll show up to the show.” 

Lordbug’s ears perked up. The show? What show- Wait... The fashion show?

“Let’s just focus on the akuma first. Any plans, Mister Bug?” Kitty asked, and it didn't take a genius to sense how sarcastic she was being. “Since you show up for just about every akuma, you should have a plan, right?” 

He shot her a dirty look. Then, to be fair, he couldn’t blame her. But the only reason he never showed up was because he was busy showing up in his alter-ego! 

“LOLLIPOP!” Just ahead, a purple-green dressed infant stomped down the streets of Paris, causing destruction all around him. 

“Is... That a giant baby?” Queen Bee stuttered as she stopped short, flying in place. “I’m out, guys. I hate babies. They’re utterly horrible.” 

Lordbug squeezed his eyes shut. He wasn’t ready to deal with this shit- Heck, he’d fought so many Gotham villains, but none of them had the unpredictability of an infant! There wasn’t even any reasoning that could be done! 

“We’ll need more of us to bring him down.” Kitty pointed out. “No matter how clever we are, we need as many hands as we can get.” 

“Lucky Charm.” Lordbug murmured under his breath, blinking when a kettle dropped into his hands. 

“Of course! How smart. Let’s all have tea while a baby destroys the city.” The yellow-black dressed superhero said snakily, sarcasm dripping off like venom. “What a wonderful idea, Lord Buggy.” 

“Wait here.” He instructed. “Actually, don’t.” The baby was starting to approach them, if they stayed there they’d be smashed to pieces. “Try to keep him back, I have an idea.” 

Down below on the streets, one man wasn’t running, screaming in fear like everyone else. Bruce Wayne watched the spotted hero with curious eyes, a nagging feeling telling him it was someone familiar. 

---

“Have this.” Damian told Tikki distractedly, walking into Master Fu’s massage shop, handing her a sugar cube that he had bought from the grocery some time ago. They came in huge packs of 500 grams, and it was a great offer, so he had bought about ten packs. “What could possibly-” He caught sight of the large saxophone thing that Master Fu had in the middle of his massage room. “Could I... Recruit other holders?” 

Tikki nodded. “Why not.” She shrugged. 

“Chloe... Marinette.” He murmured. 

Tikki panicked. Not Marinette! “There’s also a miraculous that allows you to, um, multiply yourself. You can go as both Lordbug and Robin!” 

Damian grinned. “Good idea.” 

The kwami of creation gulped. Master Fu was going to kill them both. 

---

“How long do you think he’ll take?” Queen Bee asked, waving to the baby. “Here, you giant baby! C’mere!” 

“Are we assuming he’ll even come back at all?” Kitty Noir scoffed. “And come with me, baby! Here, August!” 

“No, look at me!” Queen Bee hissed. “I don’t know, I sure hope he comes back! Or else we’re going to die, and ‘Killed by giant emotional baby’ does not feel like a good way to die!” 

“Doesn’t look good on a grave, either!” Kitty groaned. “Here, baby! Do you want, um,” She looked around, picking up a large, donut sign that had been hit down by the akuma. “Giant donut?” 

The baby squinted at the black figure, but then concentrated at the giant, pink, circular thing she was holding. 

“LOLLIPOP?” The baby grinned, reaching for it, crashing onto the building that Kitty was on.

“Shit!” Kitty cursed, but she was trapped. The baby’s arms were locked on both sides of her, and the baby’s face was less than three meters away. 

“Kitty!” Queen Bee shrieked, her wings batting quickly to get to her friend, but someone else did before her. 

Not the baby, of course. Thankfully. 

A blur of green, yellow, and red flashed across the baby, who whined as both the black blur and giant donut vanished. 

“I leave you alone for two minutes, and you nearly get yourself killed.” Robin commented, the girl safe in his arms. He set her down at a half-demolished building, Queen Bee buzzing over (See what I did there? hehe) to check on her friend. 

“Alright, here’s the plan.” Lordbug, who swung by after kicking the baby in the eye, instructed. “Kitty, Bee, distract the baby. Robin and I will get the item where the akuma is.” 

Both Kitty and Queen Bee looked a little skeptical of Lordbug’s plan, but neither of them said anything as they ran off to distract baby August. 

“Here, baby!” Kitty whistled. “Come here, sweetheart!” 

“Here, baby!” Queen Bee mimicked. “C’mere and let me sting you!” Kitty shot Queen Bee a dirty look, resulting in the latter to merely shrug. “What?” 

“What, actually, is the plan?” Robin asked, a skeptical eyebrow raised. He had not realised how difficult it would be to deal with another one of him.

“We’ll lead August to the Eiffel Tower, which I can use my yoyo thing to surround, and we’ll make a makeshift play... box? Play something.” Lordbug said, ready-ing his yoyo. “Playpen.” 

“I don’t like you.” Robin stated. “You’re... Weird. Not like me.” 

Lord bug only smirked at his statement. “That’s because I’m your inner voice. The one you never use out loud.” 

“Huh.” This had some raised eyebrows from Robin, but he continued with the plan. He let out a sharp whistle, catching the baby’s attention. “YOU WANT A LOLLIPOP?” He yelled. “Come here, then, you big idiot!” 

Lordbug zipped off the to Eiffel Tower, which was just ahead now. The baby lumbered over towards the two males, a large grin on his face as he reached out for the bright, red... Insect? Doll? 

“Almost there!” Robin ran along the roofs, seeing Bee and Kitty following after the baby, not far behind. “Come on!” He let out another piercing whistle, which the baby clearly did not like. “Shit!” Annoyed, baby August slammed his hand where Robin was, only for Kitty to swerve in, breaking the roof of the building with her cataclysm, causing both of the superheroes- One superhero, one vigilante, actually- To fall into the building. 

“How’s it feel to have a maiden in shining armour save you?” Kitty grinned, a little breathless. 

“Honoured.” Robin replied, picking himself up. “Thanks for the save, but,” He yelped, jumping aside as August’s hand came through the hole in the building, feeling around for the two. “We should probably get going.” 

Kitty smashed a window with her baton (That destructive side coming out), and the two jumped out, careful to avoid to shards. 

“Oh hey, you’re still alive, bird-boy!” Queen Bee grinned, flying quickly as she gestured to the baby with a mirror, which reflected the sun into the baby’s eyes. 

“Bee, I think you’re agitating it.” Robin raised his eyes as the baby squealed angrily, stomping closer and closer to the tower. 

The flying hero didn’t seem to care. “As long as it gets into that tower, it’s fine. Lord Buggy, you ready?” 

A thumbs up from Lordbug was all there was before August stumbled into the area under the tower, Bee still flashing the light from time to time with the mirror. Kitty and Robin kept August busy when Bee wasn’t using the mirror, making sure the baby didn’t get out of the playpen that Lordbug was creating. 

“Get the bracelet!” Lordbug hollered as the baby begin to screech angrily. August thrust his fists angrily at the ‘playpen’ a.k.a his prison, and with a heavy swat, the tower begin going down. 

“Abort, abort! Get out of there, everyone!” Robin yelled, grabbing Kitty as he shot his grappling hook to... There was no near buildings to attach to. 

“Shoot it to me!” Queen Bee yelled, catching the hook with an oomph. “Hold on, both of you!” Robin scooped Kitty up in his arms, the both of them flying just out of August’s reach. “I hate babies!” 

The four superheroes gathered on the roof of a building. “Plan C, anyone?” Lordbug said tiredly. “That cream puff is probably already burnt.” 

“Try your lucky charm one more time.” Kitty suggested. “Maybe-” 

A large wrapper fell from the sky. “Ideas?” Lord bug said dryly. 

Kitty’s eyes twinkled in mischief. “Yep. We’re going to need...” She looked around. “Robin, do you think you could distract August for a while? We’re going to do some wrapping.” Her ring beeped. “Aaaand we’ll have to do this fast. Buggy, help Robin. We’ve got this.” 

The two boys ran off, grumbling while Bee flew Kitty to a lamppost. “This will do.” Kitty grinned. The two women wrapped the paper around the huge round, light of the lamppost, and Queen Bee adjusted the wrapper to look like a little bow at the end. 

“Perfect.” Queen Bee grinned wickedly. “I think I know what you’re doing.” 

Kitty shrugged. “I would cataclysm the bracelet, but I already used it, so...” 

“I get to sting the baby! Utterly wonderful.” Bee clapped her hands in delight. “Boys! We’re ready!” 

Robin swung off, narrowly getting missed. 

Kitty whistled sharply. “LOLLIPOP!” 

August’s head snapped up at the mention of his favourite word. “LOLLIPOP?” 

“Yes, LOLLIPOP!” Queen Bee grinned from her hiding place behind the lamppost. 

The baby stumbled towards them, and Kitty rolled out of the way as Queen Bee yelled, “VENOM!”, stabbing the stinger into August’s arm. “Bug, get the bracelet!” 

Kitty pressed the button that held the bracelet in place with her baton, extending it to get momentum she needed. Robin smashed the bracelet with his bo-staff, and Lordbug caught the butterfly with his yoyo. 

“Miraculous ladybug.” He mumbled, the swarm of magical ladybugs flying through the city to clear the destruction. 

“August!” Kitty sighed, picking up the confused baby on the floor. 

“Lollipop!” August squirmed, and the other three superheroes stepped back in disgust. 

August’s mother ran towards the four, a relieved expression in her eyes. “August!” 

“Here you go.” Kitty sighed tiredly. Her ring beeped for the fifth time- She was seconds from transforming. “Got to go. See you!” 

She jumped off, using her baton to propel her into the air. “I should get going, too.” Robin and Lordbug said simultaneously, glaring at each other once they finished their sentences. 

“Why do the two of you have the same necklace on?” Queen Bee asked, squinting at the mouse miraculous around the two’s necks. 

Cue to the awkward laughter. 

---

Surprisingly, the strawberry cream puffs were not burnt. A little overcooked, sure, but not completely burnt. 

Damian wrapped them up delicately in a box before tying it up in a pink ribbon. 

“Were you wearing that necklace just now?” Sabine asked as she helped him put the finishing touches on the cream puffs. “That silver coin.” 

Damian glanced at his neck, cursing. He forgot to take it off! 

“Yeah.” He said with a forced smile. “It’s a family heirloom.” 

---

/Part Eleven/

---

I’m back with an update! It was super longggg 

Also, side note: If you want to be added to the tag list, please comment on the latest chapter, or else I might miss it due to my forgetful ass :) I’m glad so many of you guys enjoy it~ Love y’all <3

(Tag list! @yin-390 @mysteriouslyswimmingfan-blo-blog@constancetruggle@the-navistar-carol @never-neverland @rayray384 @mystery-5-5 @black-streak@bluerosette23 @seraphichana @you-will-never-know-how-i-think@mikantsume @graduatedmelon @thebookwormfairy@crazylittlemunchkin@shizukiryuu @screamingtofillthevoid @serenacross200@zestyzealot@redscarlet95 @roseinbloom02 @beautym3 @resignedcatservant@sizzling-fairy-oil @tinybrie @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @lunar-wolf-warrior@northernbluetongue @dannyelric301 @daminett4life @loysydark @sparkle9510@erick-rose99-stuff @nataladriana9 @maya-custodios-dionach @myazael @sassakitty @clumsy-owl-4178 @emootaku-666)

[kittinoir]

Echoes of You Ch. 5

You can read this on Ao3

The photoshoot was over after that, and for once, Marinette couldn’t say she was upset the time was cut short.

To her surprise, most of the staff seemed…annoyed that they weren’t to continue. She watched them pack up, grumbling about the lost hours and messed up schedules and spoiled models.

“Come with me.”

Marinette jumped, nearly knocking over an irritated grip. Dominique raised a brow. She looked remarkably unflustered for someone who’d been being hunted down by a monster intent on shish-kabobing her to death.

“The shoot - ”

“Cancelled,” Dominique barked as she turned on her heel. Marinette scrambled to keep up, snatching her bag and sketch book off her chair. “An artists constitution is a delicate one. Adrien finds he is unable to continue under these conditions.”

Marinette’s heart leapt. Adrien. She hadn’t even thought about him during the attack. She hadn’t seen where Scream-ripper had come from; what if she’d run him through on her way to the set? Feelings of failure swirled through her; she hadn’t been able to protect him. She hadn’t been able to protect anyone.

But…no… What was she supposed to have done? She did everything she could; there was no way someone like her could have done anything. Besides, she remembered with a shudder, she’d done what she’d had to. She’d given Chat Noir a second chance. Apparently it had paid off.

To her surprise, Dominique lead Marinette straight out of the building to the car. Adrien, she saw, was already inside, staring out his window. Dominique spun on her heel without waiting for so much as a ‘thank you' and Marinette slid in quietly, pulling the door closed behind her. Suddenly the comments she’d heard about spoiled models made a lot more sense, and she scowled. Anyone who knew Adrien would know he wouldn’t just blow off work if it wasn’t serious, even if, as she was learning, it wasn’t something he was truly passionate about.

“You ok?” Marinette asked quietly. She suddenly realized she didn’t know if her question was rude or not, but she also discovered she didn’t really care. Right then it didn’t matter that this boy held her heart in his hands, whether he knew it or not; no one should have to hurt alone.

“Yeah,” Adrien said, barely glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. “Yeah. Just…that was intense. I figured everyone could use some time to recover, myself included. Juliette was a talented seamstress.”

“Juliette?”

“The girl who got akumatized,” Adrien said, finally looking at her. “I don’t know what Dominique did, but I’m going to try to speak to my father about it. Juliette’s only been working for our label for a couple of months, but she was skilled and passionate - kind of like you, actually. I think she deserves another shot.”

Akumatized…? Marinette bit her lip as she probed the emptiness that was becoming more and more familiar. She didn’t know what it was, exactly, but she got the sense she was barely skimming the surface of a next to bottomless lake.

“I…I don’t know what that- ”

A rocking guitar riff Marinette recognized from Jagged Stone’s latest single ripped through the car, cutting her off. Adrien winced.

“Sorry,” he said, pulling out his phone. “My father. I have to take this.”

“I understand,” Marinette said. After all, he was his boss, too.

Unfortunately, the car pulled up outside the bakery minutes later. Adrien was still on the phone. From what she could gather, Gabriel Agreste seemed more concerned about the thousands of dollars going to waste from the shoot being cut short than he did about the attack itself. 

Adrien waved to her as she slid out of the back seat. A blank mask had settled over his features, and just for a second, a heartbeat really, he looked like someone else, someone she didn’t know. A stranger. The boy she loved was gone.

Marinette shut the door, but slid quickly up to the drivers side as inspiration struck. She knocked on the window, her hand acting before her brain caught up. She blanched as Adrien’s bodyguard rolled down the window but didn’t falter.

“Wait, please,” she said, “Just for a minute. I have something for Adrien. And - and for you! If you just wait, please, just for a second.”

The bodyguard didn’t say yes, but he didn’t say no. Marinette took that as a positive and turned to dash into the bakery.

“Marinette?”

Sabine Dupain-Cheng paused mid-transaction as her daughter came tearing into the bakery, very nearly knocking over not one, not two, but three customers as she did.

“Hi mom!” Marinette said as she tore open a bag and began shovelling pastries inside. “I’m home, the shoot was great, I just need a sec.” Blueberry muffin. Apricot scone. Chocolate croissant. She grabbed a smaller bag and shovelled three or four more pastries into it before dashing back outside. She handed the smaller bag to the bodyguard. The eager smile was small, but she didn’t think she was imagining it. He dug in right away, a silent but loud and clear sign that he would wait to leave while she conducted her business.

Biting her lip, Marinette tugged open the back door one more time. Adrien turned, eyes wide, still on the phone.

“As a thank you,” Marinette whispered. She placed the bag on the seat. Adrien softened and smiled.

“Thank you,” he mouthed, but then his father reeled him back in. She waved and shut the door, waiting and watching as the car pulled away.

Marinette barely saw the bakery as she headed back inside and up to their apartment, to her room, and up to her balcony. 

The sun was just beginning to set over the city, glinting off the glass and stone, but it was completely lost on her. How had a day that had started so wonderfully turned into such a nightmare? The…akuma was burned into her memory, picking at Marinette’s focus. Every thought turned back to the attack.

Scream-ripper hadn’t been working on her own, obviously. But who… Hawk Moth. That was what Adrien had said that morning; that Hawk Moth was becoming more volatile. But how? What could have twisted that woman’s body that way? She shuddered; what could have turned her to stone?

Marinette jumped as her own phone rang, the Clara Nightengale verse letting her know Alya would be on the other end. “Hello?”

“Tell. Me. EVERYTHING!”

Marinette frowned. “I…what?”

“You were there, girl!” Alya said almost too fast for Marinette to understand. “I saw it on the news! New akuma! What was it? Did you get a picture? A video? DID LADYBUG RESCUE YOU?”

“Alya, calm down,” Marinette said as panic threatened to overwhelm her. “I don’t know, I…”

“What do you mean you don’t know?” Alya demanded. “Didn’t you see it?”

“I…I…”

“Are you…ok, girl?” Alya asked, suddenly serious. “Did you get hurt while you were there?”

And just like that, Marinette found herself choking back tears. “Something’s wrong, Alya,” Marinette got out. “There’s all these…these gaps, and things I can’t remember, and I don’t…I don’t know what to do. I think I need help.”

“I’m on my way, Marinette,” Alya said. “Do you want me to grab anyone else on the way? Rose? Juleka?”

“No, no,” Marinette said. “I just don’t know….I don’t know…”

“It’s ok,” Alya said. Marinette could hear her pulling on a jacket through the phone. “Be there in 10, ok?”

Marinette bit her lip. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely, girl,” Alya said. She hung up, and Marinette stared down at her phone, suddenly wondering if she wasn’t over-reacting. Was she really forgetting things, or had she just been so busy with her own escapades she’d missed the obvious?

Marinette climbed back down her ladder and made her way to her desk, pushing aside a stale plate of half-eaten cookies before she sat down. Like her phone, the webpage automatically loaded the Ladyblog. That, more than anything, assured Marinette this wasn’t something she was dreaming. It was real.

She was still scrolling through the Ladyblog when Alya burst in seven minutes later with pastries.

“I came as fast as I could,” Alya panted, dropping onto the chaise and patting the empty end. “What’s going on, girl? Was it…” Alya dropped her voice to a whisper, “Was it the akuma?”

Marinette joined Alya on the end of her chaise, crossing her legs and clutching a pillow to herself. “Yes, but…no. It’s been…well, everything, just…”

“Ok,” Alya said slowly, “Everything how? On the phone you mentioned…I think gaps…?”

“Yeah,” Marinette said as a blush fought its’ way onto her cheeks. “This is going to sound so stupid, but I think there are gaps…in my memory.”

Alya frowned. Marinette recognized her reporter face. “Random memories? Like people, or events? Homework, or friends? You remember that you’re a total goner for Adrien, right? Because you, like, just started managing coherent conversations with him.”

“Yes, I remember that,” Marinette said. Despite it all, she giggled. “I don’t think I could ever forget that. But…I don’t know. I don’t usually realize what I’ve forgotten until someone’s talking about something like I should know it.”

“Ok,” Alya said. She’d pulled out a notebook and was tapping her pen on her chin. “Do you have any specific examples?”

“Well…yeah, I…” Marinette dredged up her memories of the past twelve hours. “Like this morning when you said you had an interview for the Ladyblog. I knew about it, but I didn’t. I remembered you want to be a journalist and had been working on this project, but I couldn’t remember what the blog was about, except it was the home page on my phone and my computer, so obviously I’ve read it. 

“And then this morning, Adrien said something about Ladybug and Chat Noir and Hawk Moth, and…Alya, I had no idea who they were.”

Alya stared at her, as though waiting for clarification. “Wait, like…nothing?”

Marinette shook her head. “None at all.”

“O-ok,” Alya said, jotting down her notes. “Anything else?”

“The… akuna?…attack today,” Marinette said, bracing herself against the terrifying memories.

“The akuma,” Alya corrected. She raised a brow as though she wasn’t completely sure Marinette wasn’t just playing a prank, but the other girl just shrugged.

“I had no idea what it was, what it could do.”

“That’s pretty typical,” Alya said cautiously. “Every one is different with different powers.”

“I didn’t know that,” Marinette said quietly, a hint of desperation creeping into her voice. “I don’t know where they come from, or how they’re made.”

“Well, it seems to me,” Alya said slowly, “That the things you have trouble remembering have to do with the Miraculous.”

A chill ran down Marinette’s spine, a silent warning. “The what?”

“The…Miraculous,” Alya repeated. “Oh, my god. How many heroes are there?”

“I don’t know,” Marinette said, “I guess two? Ladybug and Chat Noir?”

“How did they get their powers?”

“Sleight of…hand, maybe…?”

Alya was practically vibrating. “What is Hawk Moth after?”

“I don’t know, Alya!” Marinette said, clenching her hands to keep her panic under control. “I don’t know what he wants, or who he is, or why he’s doing all this!”

Alya reached over and squeezed Marinette’s hands a silent apology. “It’s ok, Marinette, it’s ok. I have a theory.”

Marinette wasn’t sure how someone could derive a theory from all the crazy things she’d already said, but she let Alya plow ahead, desperate for any explanation, even a wrong one.

“Ladybug and Chat Noir are Paris’s protectors,” Alya began, “But sometimes they need help. They get their powers from their Miraculous, a magic piece of jewellery guarded by an immortal being. There are a few pieces of this jewellery. When Ladybug and Chat Noir need help, they ask a select few people to wear a Miraculous and help them defeat an akuma.”

“Isn’t that…dangerous?” Marinette asked.

“Not that I know of,” Alya said. “The Miraculous protect the wearer, but once the one time power is used, they have five minutes until the transformation exhausts itself and they transform back into their civilian self.”

“Ok…” Marinette said. “I’m with you so far. What does any of that have to do with me?”

“Ladybug and Chat Noir had a close scrape with Hawk Moth, in person, a few days ago,” Alya said. “Normally he just sends out his akuma’s to do his dirty work for him, but for whatever reason, he came in person that time.”

“Adrien mentioned something about it,” Marinette said, suddenly recalling their conversation. “But there wasn’t anything about it on the Ladyblog.”

Alya shrugged, her brow creasing. “It was a bad day. I was across town at a family function and no one could get close enough to film or ask questions. Worse, it was at the top of Montparnasse, so the actual news outlets weren’t able to get close enough to film, either. I missed a lot of what happened that day. What I could gather, though, was that another Miraculous holder was with them, one of other heroes.”

“Ok,” Marinette said. “So?”

“So,” Alya said, “I think that hero might have been you.”

Marinette nearly fell of the chaise. “Me!? I can barely remember who the Kitty is, you think I was out there with them?”

“I think,” Alya said softly, “That while the Miraculous can protect your body, they can’t always protect the mind. I’ve heard of cases before, where people are so traumatized by what they experience their mind tries to protect them. Sometimes they go blind, or deaf, or…forget things that hurt too much. I don’t really know what happened that day, Marinette, but not all of the stories on the Ladyblog are good ones.”

Marinette pulled a blanket off the back of the chaise and pulled it around herself with shaking fingers as she processed what Alya had said. Her, a…super hero? But she’d never been one for direct confrontation; what in the world would make Ladybug choose her?

“It’s ok, girl,” Alya said, pulling her best friend in for a tight hug. When Alya realized Marinette was trembling, she didn’t let go. “It’s just an idea, something I read about. Maybe it’s something else. Maybe it’s a side effect of an akuma - like Oblivio!”

Marinette struggled to calm down. “Oblivio?”

“Yeah, they were this super-villain that erased people’s memories. Maybe Hawk Moth’s getting stronger and this is a side effect of that.” Alya paused, then quietly said, “Actually…Oblivio was me.”

“You?” Marinette straightened, staring at her friend.

“Me,” Alya said with a nod, “And Nino.”

“But…how - ”

“I guess that’s the most important thing you need to know,” Alya said as she studied her jeans. “Anyone can be akumatized, Marinette. Anyone. When you feel really angry, or sad, or any strong negative emotion, it somehow creates an opening for Hawk Moth. He can send one of his butterflies after you. It amplifies that emotion until you’re happy to work with him, so you have to be careful. He’ll sweet talk you, promise you whatever you want, in exchange for one thing.”

“What?” Marinette whispered through lips that had gone cold.

“Ladybug and Chat Noir’s Miraculous.”

[marksollinger]

Hello! May I ask for multiple? If so, thoughts on Dan, Clara, and Suit/Caroline from Archive 81? If not multiple, then, one of them?

of course! i did dan’s here (link) so i will do suit/caroline’s and clara’s :)

the name clara by itself is like a cranberry red. and i love clara’s voice actor for her (idk how else to say it) lip noises (?? !!! idk!) because they remind me of sleep. like falling asleep to the scent of a flowery aromatherapy candle. and her real name, jennifer martine, i associate with a butterfly wing. has to be purple (i edited a blue butterfly wing for this one since purple butterfly wing closeups are understandably hard to find in a surface level image search) - it’s like handling a butterfly wing, all the little powdery scales. idk if it honestly has anything to do with her voice, either, because i only get this association with the name jennifer martine.

suit/caroline is similarly very satisfying. had to ask the a81 discord whether caroline’s surname is canonically levi or lesta or lester and apparently it’s contested jfklsd which i didn’t realize. so i did her full name for all 3 last names. caroline is always light/baby blue, only slightly influenced by the first syllable of the name proceeding it. levi is a blue/purple. lesta is like those ocean pictures that used to be on macintosh systems as pre-loaded desktop wallpapers, like those Perfect fiji underwater pictures. or like this picture of a weird drink i see on those ‘mildly interesting’ pages (link) lmao. lester is canary yellow. and the simple name “suit” is what i think would be called ‘periwinkle’, like a super light but saturated purple-blue color.

her voice, meanwhile, is very special to me it’s another that i associate with a glowing orb of light, but hers is cold like holding a ball of loosely connected wet/fluffy snow. in general she’s got lots of cool tones. and you know when you leave an item of clothing in the cold, or sitting in the cold? and you wear it and it’s still very cold but now it’s on your body? i associate caroline with a specific white cotton sweater i used to own and the sensation of putting it on while it’s cold. heavy and comforting but not in a warm way, in a cool soothing way. the screams on the other hand make me weep lmao. i mute them honestly because it’s the textural and sound equivalent of squeaking styrofoam which physically hurts my brAIN i have a feeling it’s the hyperempathy. i don’t like hearing her in pain 😭 it makes me flick my toes.

send me a character name: synesthesia edition

[blueboxesandtrafficcones]

The Nuptial Necessity - Chapter 18

A 12xRose Human AU

Despite an unglamorous job description, Rose loves the work she does with The Thistle Foundation, a charity founded by her best friend’s great-uncle.  It doesn’t hurt that her boss, her friend’s father, is easy on the eyes.  With a great job, wonderful friends and a loving family, life couldn’t be better – except for having someone to share it with.

All of that is threatened, though, when the great-uncle dies – and sets a strange condition for his nephew to inherit, jeopardizing the Foundation and Rose’s future, sparking a chain of events that might just get her everything she dreamed of and more.

Chapters will be posted on Saturdays and Tuesdays.  Many thanks to my beta, @stupidsatsuma

Rated: Explicit, for eventual smut

@doctorroseprompts

AO3  |  Masterlist

—

The limo ride back to the townhouse was quiet; with Clara and Danny going home directly from the event it was just the two of them.  It was only a twenty-minute ride, but Rose still kicked off her heels to give her feet a break before Malcolm was even fully in the car, so that by the time he was settled she could scoot right into his side and relax.

“Hello,” he murmured, hesitating before putting his arm around her.

“Hi,” she sighed in return, resting her head on his shoulder.  After a minute, she laid her arm along the length of his thigh, ostensibly as the only comfortable place for it, squished between them.

He didn’t object.

Watching out the window as London passed by, Rose tried to control her nerves and mentally rehearse how this would go.  Ideally he’d try something himself and save her the trouble, but somehow, she didn’t think so.  That wouldn’t be like him, to take charge – not with her.  It would be much more his style to let her come to him, and she was praying that was the case here.

She didn’t know what she would do if he turned her down.  I don’t want to go back and live with my parents.  Maybe Clara will let me stay with them – it is my flat.  Either way, it would be humiliating.

A tentative brush against her knee made her look down to find Malcolm’s hand awkwardly hovering over it, as if debating whether or not to set it down.  Checking his expression, she found he was firmly staring out the window, a bit too intensely to be natural.  Licking her lips, hope flickering inside her, she used her free hand to gently press his down onto her knee before removing her own quickly.  His remained still for long moments, before the thumb began to gently rub back and forth, much as it had moments before she’d announced their ‘engagement’.  Was that already a month ago?  It felt like a lifetime had passed since then.

Taking a deep breath, she moved the hand on his knee until it bumped his on hers, slowly encouraging it to flip.  Once it did, she laced their fingers together, but loosely, so he could pull away if he so wanted; instead, he squeezed her hand.

This might actually happen, she realized with a jolt, equal parts panic and anticipation racing through her.  It would be the culmination of five years’ worth of fantasies and daydreams, of hoping, wishing, wanting, and now that it was here (maybe), standing on the precipice, she saw that if she dared, if she jumped, it would be an awfully long way to fall if he didn’t catch her.

No, she told herself firmly, as her thoughts started to spiral.  This is no time to chicken out.  You have to see this through.

“Rose?”

“Yes!”  She startled, gaze snapping up to meet his amused and somewhat curious look.  “Sorry, what?”

“We’re here- home.”

Home.  “Right.”

She put her shoes back on while he got out, before sliding over to the door and making sure she had everything.  He held out a hand to help her out, and she took it, breathing deeply.

Showtime.

-

Anticipation tingled on Malcolm’s skin like electricity, building up to a steady hum.  Change was in the air, and if he was reading the signs right, his wildest fantasy might soon be coming true.

While he had been firm in his resolve of not allowing anything to happen between them, in the end that had only lasted a handful of hours, right up until he had woken up in the middle of the night on the sofa, spooning Rose.  She’d been pressed tight against him, and there had been no way to hide his physical reaction to her closeness.  His heart had almost stopped when she’d awoken, and he’d barely been able to maintain a convincing level of unconsciousness as she’d rolled her hips back into him once, twice, three times.  And he knew for sure that she was awake, was conscious of her actions and his reaction, because she’d whispered his name.

The fact that she hadn’t frozen, or tried to get away, or for that matter run screaming, had instead chosen to press closer, gave him hope.

He was tired of denying himself happiness, tired of punishing himself for a failed marriage the one who ruined it felt no guilt over.  If Rose wanted him, well…

Almost on autopilot he led her into the house, suddenly nervous about what would happen next.  Would she make a move?  Did she expect him to?

“Nightcap?” he offered, once the door was locked behind them.  “Or do you want to go to bed?  I mean- are you tired?”

“I could go for a drink,” she agreed, lips twitching upwards.  “Sure.”

Moving his hand from it’s relatively-safe place on her fabric-clad hip he took a chance, finding the smooth, warm skin of her bare back and guiding her that way into the library.  Leaving her to settle where she wanted, Malcolm headed for the drinks cart, pouring them each two fingers of scotch.  Over the past week it had become their routine to end the evening with a glass in here.

He didn’t want the evening to end here.

Turning, a glass in each hand, he found her sitting just right of center on the sofa, looking perfectly elegant and relaxed, as if she spent every night in an evening gown.  “My lady,” he offered her one, which she accepted with a grin as he sank down next to her, side by side, flush against each other from knee to hip.

“Why thank you, my lord,” she countered, in what had become a running joke between them.  “Too kind.”

They clinked glasses, taking a small sip.

“Tonight was perfect,” he told her seriously.  “You make pulling this together look effortless, but I know how hard you work on it all year round.  Brava.”  He lifted his glass slightly in a little toast.  Grinning, cheeks flushing a pretty shade of pink, Rose ducked her head.

“Thank you.  It did go well, didn’t it?  And we raised a fuck-ton of money, too.  But this wouldn’t happen without you, and Wallace, and the Estate, so… here’s to you too,” she toasted back, pausing before letting their glasses touch.  “Hang on, but the reason there will continue to be this Gala is because of me,” she teased, tongue peeking out the side of her mouth from between her teeth and making his trousers tighten.  “So, yes, another toast to me, I think.”

“I’ll most certainly drink to that,” he murmured, voice somewhat lower than he’d strictly intended, but not sorry as she gave a little shiver in response, leaning into him.  “And especially to you in that dress.”

“Mum called me a tart,” she snickered.  “She said that dressed like this, I might as well hang a sign around my neck and say I’m open for business.”

He barely managed to stop himself from asking any sort of follow up question, taking a long pull off his whisky instead, almost choking on it when Rose’s palm settled on his upper thigh, fingers spread across the width of it, the very tips of them dangerously close to a specific area.  Be cool, be cool.  You’re not fifteen.  Don’t embarrass yourself.

“Well, thanks for the drink, but I think it’s time for bed,” Rose sighed, rubbing gently at his leg.  “Walk me up?”

“Of course.”  Taking the empty glasses back to the cart for the cleaner to deal with tomorrow, he used the momentary privacy of his back to her to adjust himself.  “Ready?”

-

They took their time climbing the stairs, his hand once again in the small of her back, fingers unable to stop themselves from rubbing circles on her skin.

He wondered if she would object if he moved his hand down to her bum.

Something told him she wouldn’t, but he didn’t try.  Maybe next time.  Let’s see how tonight goes.

All too soon they reached her bedroom, pausing there.  Rose leaned back against the door, and he tried not to look at how it accentuated her curves.

This was it, the moment, his one chance, and he couldn’t make himself do anything.  Say something, kiss her, what are you waiting for?  Look at her!  She’s practically begging for it.  That was true; she was oozing sex appeal, and he wanted to take her then and there.

Instead, he said, “This is you.”

She knows that, moron, it’s her room.  That the best you’ve got?

“It is,” she replied, breathless, reaching out to toy with the buttons on his shirt; he instinctively moved closer, which was apparently what she wanted by her little smirk.  “So…”

“So?”

Her chest heaved, and he couldn’t imagine how she could possibly be breathing in a tension-filled moment such as this.  “Here’s the thing…  I could use a hand.”

“Oh?  How so?”  All of his blood was rushing south, leaving his brain all but empty, which actually made it easier – raising one forearm, he braced himself on the door, bracketing her against it, not close enough that they were touching, but certainly invading her personal space.

“I need help undoing the dress.  The back, I mean.  It’s too intricate to do by myself.”

Malcolm blinked; he’d spent most of the night studying the back (and front, and sides) of the dress, and as far as he could tell, the only zipper was at the small of her back going down, and the top could practically be peeled off.  (He’d done it a dozen times in his mind, several of them notable for the use of his teeth.)  “You do?”

Cheeks pink and eyes hooded, Rose nodded slowly, fingers now trailing up and down the row of buttons on his dress shirt.  “I do.  And, obviously, in return, I’d be happy to help you out of your tux.  Fair is fair, after all.”

Holy fuck, she is coming onto me.  Say yes, say yes, say yes.

“I live to serve,” he managed, lowering his head towards her.  “Anything you want.  Need.  Desire.”

“I might have quite a long list,” she whispered, hands moving to his hips and pulling him closer.  “Is that okay?”

Dipping his head further he nuzzled his nose against her temple, unable to believe this was happening, happiness and shock running rampant through him.  “More than, I insist.  In fact, you should check it again, make sure it’s comprehensive.  I want to thoroughly satisfy it.”

Rose whimpered, and his lips kissed their way down to the corner of her mouth, waiting there, resting there, for her permission.

“Is this what you want?” he whispered against her skin.  “Am I understanding properly?”  He kept his tone serious and quiet, wanting to make sure she knew this wasn’t part of whatever game they’d stumbled into.  “Rose, tell me to go away and I will.”

She turned her head slightly, soft lips grazing against his own.

“Malcolm,” she sighed, “take me inside.”

“Are you sure?”

Her right hand slid around to his belt buckle and down, her words as clear as her actions.  “Yes.  I’m sure.”

She opened the door, and they went inside.