#sometimes I frown but if it is due to concentration anger confusion or anything else is absolutely unreadable

[momochiiee-reblogs]

Really trying to not be mean and throw up all my indignation at some random people calling themselves artists on a discrd chat dedicated to art and fanart and complimenting eachother's skill using FUCKING A I PROMPTS

Congratulations you dipshits, you have stolen from real people!

I really hope this scammy tools get severely punished and disappear for all the stolen intellectual property one day

[edendaphne]

“Discordant Sonata” Chapter 20

>>Click here to read on Ao3<<

>>Click here to read on Wattpad<<

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CHAPTER 20: PRESTISSIMO

 Music glossary:

 Prestissimo - "Extremely quickly”; to be played as fast as possible

* Fun tidbit:  The name “Gaspard” means "bringer of treasure" *

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(Mood Music: “Dead Things” - Philip Glass)

Adrien cursed into his gag, feebly squirming on the back seat of the car he’d been dragged into. The windows were heavily tinted, so there was no chance that anyone would be able to see him. Not that that mattered right now anyway, as he couldn’t even sit up at the moment. In fact, he couldn’t feel any of his appendages due to whatever drug his bodyguard (or... whoever he was) had injected into him.

One thing was certain: since neither of these men was the real Gaspard, they must be akumas, and his father had used their likeness to trick him.

Damn it. Why had he left his guard down back there? He should’ve known not to trust anyone. And now thanks to his idiocy, Marinette had gotten dragged into this giant mess, and he had no idea where “Fake-Gaspard #2” had taken her. He’d never forgive himself if anything happened to her. He seethed silently, consumed by fear and anger, both simultaneously raging for control.

He could feel Plagg behind him trying to fiddle with the zip ties that bound his arms together; but it wasn’t as simple as merely unlocking a safe or a door. Having Plagg with him was his only ace in the hole, so he had to remain hidden. Adrien had to plan his escape carefully for when the effects of the drug had worn off enough. Even if Plagg wasn’t able to remove the ties, he could still unlock the car door, so Adrien could roll out and... hopefully not be crushed to death by traffic. He let out a muffled grumble.

Okay... maybe that wasn’t the best idea.

He had to do something soon though; there wasn’t much time left before they arrived back at the Agreste mansion, and the only feeling he’d regained was in his hands and feet. He supposed he should consider himself lucky. If the dosage had been any higher, it could’ve interfered with his lungs, or worse.

Not that Father would care, he huffed impassively. If anything, it would get him out of the picture permanently, and he’d no longer be an inconvenience to Hawkmoth’s schemes.

Adrien’s thoughts drifted back to Marinette; worry and anxiety about what had happened to his beloved roommate clouded his mind, interfering with his concentration. He replayed her scuffle with the bodyguards over and over in his head, the overwhelming feelings of guilt and shame causing his entire being to ache in agony and self-loathing. This was all his fault. He was pathetic. Degraded from superhero to hostage with no one but himself to blame.

If Gabriel locked him away, would he ever find out what happened to her? Memories of being locked in a small, almost completely barren room for days at a time as punishment for misbehavior flashed in his mind, causing his insides to churn and his hands to get clammy. He fought the panic that threatened to boil over within him and firmly shoved the memories away. He needed his wits about him at the moment, and getting sucked into a spiral of panic would prevent him from being able to think logically.

His thoughts were interrupted as the car screeched to a halt, and had his Not-Bodyguards not partially strapped him into the lap seatbelts, he would’ve been thrown onto the floor from the momentum. He managed to turn his head and shake it slightly to try to get the hair out of his eyes, letting out a small grunt of puzzlement. What was happening??

His confusion didn’t last long.

An enormous force hurtled down from the sky onto the hood of the car, squashing it like an empty aluminum can, crushing the engine and rendering it useless. Once the dust and debris settled, Adrien peeked as high as he could, trying to catch a glimpse of what had landed on the car. Despite his meager view from the back seat, coupled with his blurry eyesight (as he’d lost his eyeglasses sometime during the scuffle), he could still make out the unmistakable red boots and black leggings that stood on top of the broken metal.

A million questions swirled around in his head in a jumbled tornado of confusion and elation. He tried calling out her name, having completely forgotten that he couldn’t, and he doubled his efforts trying to squirm out of his bindings so he could get her attention.

His endeavors were cut short though. Despite his impaired vision, he saw the distinct glowing masks form in front of the men’s faces.

I knew it!! he thought, glaring at them with distaste.

They rushed out of the car without a word, and he couldn’t help but utterly loathe the thought of Ladybug fighting both of them by herself, despite her partner being mere feet away, albeit totally useless.

God, I hate being a damsel in distress, he frowned. I hope she’s gonna be okay.

In a vicious display of skill that shocked onlookers, barely a minute later Ladybug had the two men strung up with her yo-yo from a street light. They hung several feet above the ground, expressions slightly miffed but otherwise still rather blank, which, for an akuma, was unusual to say the least.

“Ugh, not in here either,” Ladybug remarked crossly, discarding a broken watch onto the floor, joining the plethora of other torn items and belongings scattered all around them. “Where the hell is it?!” she grumbled after tearing a shoe in half and still not seeing any blackened butterflies.

She frowned, twisting her mouth in annoyance. If I keep going like this, they’ll end flashing all of Paris, she thought. Best to turn them over to the authorities and continue this search at the police station. She needed to check on Adrien anyway.

Right on cue, the police arrived and secured the area. After making sure the police had a handle on the situation, Ladybug rushed to the busted car to retrieve Adrien.

She jerked the car door open––or rather, tried to– accidentally yanking the entire door handle off and warping the metal of the door itself. She cursed in irritation, deciding to bypass the door altogether, and leaped onto the top of the car. With a strained heave, she peeled off the entire roof like a can opener, all the while muttering a colorful string of expletives Adrien had never heard his mild-mannered, even-tempered partner say before.

She dropped down next to him onto the back seat, releasing the seatbelts and assisting Adrien into a seated position. She reached up to touch his face, apologizing sheepishly before carefully peeling off the tape that covered his mouth.

Despite the gag being gone, Adrien remained speechless, staring at Ladybug with an intensity she’d never seen coming from him before. With a small, flustered stutter, she summoned a Lucky Charm. A pair of small, polka-dotted scissors landed onto the palm of her hand. She made quick work of his bindings and briefly inspected the red marks on his skin to make sure he was unharmed.

Adrien threw his arms around her, bringing her into a bone crushing hug, his entire body shaking like a leaf.

“Oh, Adrien,” she whispered, her voice still a bit raspy, and squeezed back firmly. “I’m so glad I found you. I was so scared.”

He didn’t reply, as he was near-hyperventilating, but his grip around her shoulders tightened and he buried his head into her neck, seeking comfort.

A few moments later, Ladybug gently lifted Adrien out of the car, careful not to touch the jagged metal edges. She hopped down to the ground and gingerly sat him on a nearby bench. He wobbled unsteadily, but managed to stay upright as she examined him.

“How are you feeling? Can you tell me what happened?” she asked, seemingly snapping him out of a haze.

Without a word, his head whipped up and his eyes developed a determined glint. He shot up to his feet– or, at least, he attempted to– barely managing to take a single wobbly step before crumpling onto the ground.

“Adrien!!” Ladybug called out as she halfway caught him. “Are you injured?! What’s happened to your legs?”

“Paralyzing drug,” Adrien slurred. “I’ll be fine,” he continued as he clumsily broke away from her hold, successfully taking a couple of shaky steps forward.

Ladybug exclaimed, horrified, “They drugged you?! What did they want?” She stepped in front of him, placing her hands gently on his chest, halting his attempt to flee. “Where are you going?? You’re in no condition to be running around right now, we need to take you to a hospital!”

Adrien shook his head, his tone becoming increasingly desperate, his pace becoming faster and more frantic as he stumbled ahead. “No no, please, I need to go look for her!”

“What’s wrong?” Ladybug asked, perplexed. “Look for who?” she said as she rushed beside him.

“I have to go back!” he pleaded. “I have to make sure she’s okay! She could be in danger, I need to find her!”

At this point, they’d reached a grassy portion of an adjacent park, and the uneven ground caused him to trip over himself. He cried out as he fell on top of Ladybug, who had surged forward to catch him.

“Please…” he looked down at her, barely able to hold himself up with his arms in their weakened state. “I have to find Marinette. She got hurt trying to save me,” he uttered quietly, his voice quivering and eyes glossy. “If anything happened to her, I don’t think I could–” his voice cracked, unable to continue. He inhaled slowly, then uttered with a trembling voice, “Please, I need to go back. She’s really important to me, I can’t go anywhere else until I know she’s alright.”

Ladybug’s face softened, touched by his concern. “She’s fine!” she blurted out. “Marinette’s fine!”

Adrien gave her a puzzled look. “What?? But how do you know?”

She attempted to give him a reassuring smile, trying her hardest to avoid looking like a demented clown. Think, you knucklehead, think!! Ladybug screamed inwardly in a panic.

“Uhh, she’s the one who contacted me!” she lied, then lowered her voice, as if she were letting him in on some forbidden knowledge. “She’s been secretly helping me and Chat Noir, so I gave her a way to contact me privately in case of emergency. But of course, this has to remain a secret; so please don’t tell anyone.” She helped him to a sitting position on the ground and added, “Can I trust you with this?”

Adrien’s face and posture relaxed, his eyebrows upturned with both amazement and affection. “Always,” he breathed out softly. “You can count on me, always,” he murmured, a kind smile etched on his handsome face as he reached for her hand and squeezed.

Ladybug smiled fondly in return, remembering why it had been so easy to fall in love with him several years ago. He was truly a selfless and sweet person at heart.

He lifted his hand up to her face, rubbing his thumb across a cut on her lower lip and wiping away a spot of blood which, unbeknownst to him, she’d gotten as Marinette. Her breath hitched, face suddenly feeling rather warm.

“It seems like we always meet under less than ideal circumstances,” Adrien chuckled softly. “Fate has a cruel sense of humor sometimes. I’m sorry.”

Ladybug’s stomach tingled, a sense of familiarity descending on her yet again. She must have been staring because Adrien swiftly withdrew his hand with a quick apology, muttering sheepishly how he’d never been very good at recognizing the need for personal space.

Not wanting to make him feel uncomfortable, Ladybug forced herself to pretend to have a functioning brain and smiled politely, helping him to stand and letting him use her as a support. “It’s okay, no worries!” she added amiably. “Would you let me take you back to the school? My yo-yo’s better than a taxi, or so I hear.”

He grinned widely, then nodded. “Yeah. I’d appreciate it.”

Ladybug picked him up, acutely aware that crowds were beginning to gather around the area. As she was about to take off with Adrien, she heard one of the cops call out her name.

“What is it, Officer Raincomprix? Do you have the situation under control? I’m taking Adrien back to the school to get him checked out by a medical professional. You can get a statement from him there, away from the public and from–” she added, an annoyed crinkle forming on her forehead “–from all the reporters. Be on the lookout for any possible akuma.”

Officer Roger Raincomprix’s face was one of pure bewilderment. “Uh– well, ma’am, something’s happened. I’m not sure how to explain. You’d better come take a look for yourself.”

Ladybug and Adrien exchanged puzzled glances, then she nodded as she and Adrien made their way to where she’d detained the kidnappers.

Upon arriving back at the scene of the battle, Ladybug gasped, almost dropping Adrien in shock, with a look on her face like she’d just witnessed an alien invasion.

“WHERE ARE THEY?!” she shrieked. “How did they escape?!?”

“We’re not sure,” Officer Roger stated. “Somebody caught it on camera, maybe you can get some clues from the video.” He called over one of the cameramen from a local news crew. “Rewind it, please,” he instructed him.

Ladybug and Adrien stared at the tiny screen in awe. The two men had been released from the lamppost and were being walked towards the police car in handcuffs. Once they’d almost reached the vehicle, they halted mid-step, then fell to the ground, faces twisting in agony, and they let out a bloodcurdling wail, like their insides were being ripped apart. A cloud of dark, indigo smoke engulfed them, obscuring them completely; and when it cleared, there was nothing.

Ladybug gaped in total confusion. “So they just… disappeared??” she cried. “Vanished without a trace??”

The officer shook his head. “Not entirely. These were left behind,” he added, presenting two small, white feathers.

Ladybug accepted them, even more confused than before. “And you’re absolutely certain you saw no akumas leave their bodies?”

Roger nodded. “Positive. There was nothing else. We’re searching the area for clues; we’ll let you know if we find anything.”

Ladybug exhaled sharply, feeling like she’d been thrown into a freezing lake, the tiny hairs at the back of her neck standing on end. What in the world was happening??

(Mood Music: Ballet from “Orpheus and Eurydice" - Christoph Gluck)

By the time Ladybug had gotten Adrien situated at the school nurse’s, the effects of whatever neuromuscular drug he’d been injected with had waned somewhat, and he’d regained most of the feeling and mobility in his limbs. Since he waved off the need to actually lie down in one of the beds, she helped him sink into a small sofa, adjusting the pillows, fussing over him, asking if he needed a blanket or something to drink. All the while, he kept trying to reassure her that he was fine (although his face did look a bit flushed during this exchange, which didn’t ease her apprehensions).

As the nurse examined his vitals and gave him a quick check-up, Ladybug’s thoughts slowly shifted from doting concern to one of regret and guilt. This was all her fault. She should have listened to Tikki and transformed instead of rushing in headfirst without knowing the full situation.

Her earrings rang out their second beep, reminding her that her time was beginning to run short. She knew she needed to part ways, but a pressing question rooted her to the spot. She couldn’t leave just yet. Not until she knew.

Adrien must’ve sensed her discomfort; as soon as the nurse excused herself to fill out a health report and speak to the police, he touched her arm and asked quietly, “Is everything okay?” He motioned for her to sit next to him, patting the cushion with a friendly gesture.

She complied, trying to appear as calm as possible as she took a seat. “Well, it’s about… earlier,” she began hesitantly, then lowered her head to whisper, “Do you think this had anything to do with those photos of us from a few months back, when we went to the movies together? Maybe the pictures got leaked after all, and the wrong people got ahold of them. I can’t help but feel like that’s why you were targeted.”

Adrien’s eyes popped wide open as he jerked his head up. “Oh, no!! No, it wasn’t!” Adrien replied, arms waving in emphatic denial. He tried to calm his voice again as he continued to insist, “Believe me, it’s not connected to that at all!”

“What?? B-but how are you sure? You can be honest with me; you don’t have to downplay it for my sake,” she insisted. “I accept all responsibility for everything that happened that evening. I should’ve known it was too dangerous and that it would put you at risk. I just want to fix things and make sure what happened today won’t ever happen again.”

“The timing was just a coincidence, I promise,” Adrien assured her, reaching forward and giving her shoulder a squeeze. “This has nothing to do with you... and everything to do with my father,” he added darkly.

Ladybug’s jaw dropped as a realization dawned on her. “Oh no, your father… he’s going to be so upset!! The police have probably already notified him, he must be worried sick!” Ladybug groaned in dismay, her head dropping into her hands, entirely missing the way Adrien’s eyes rolled sardonically. “Would it help if I escorted you to your home myself? Just to make absolutely sure that you arrive home safely? It’s no trouble, really! I’d just need to go recharge real quick and–”

Adrien looked like he’d just been set on fire. “NO!!!’ he cut her off, unable to keep the terror out of his voice. “Please, don’t!!”

Ladybug recoiled back like she’d been slapped in the face, utterly bewildered at his response. Adrien’s hands began to tremble, and he gripped the fabric of his pants to try to keep them still.

“Uhh, what I meant to say was, ‘no thank you, that won’t be necessary.’ M-my Father is, uhh... very particular. Fastidious, really. Someone will drive me back.” He grimaced as if his words tasted bitter, then he exhaled, seeming to compose himself. “I appreciate the offer, it’s very kind of you. But there’s really no need.”

“I… b-but…” she stammered, twiddling with the hem of her skirt, unconvinced. “Are you absolutely, positively sure you’ll be alright?”

Adrien nodded. “I’ll be fine. Trust me.”

Ladybug let out a deep sigh. “Well… alright. Sorry I kept pushing, it’s just…” She bit her lip, trying not to think about the chillingly blank stares of the impostor bodyguards. “It’s just that those men were no ordinary akumas. Actually, I don’t even know if they were ever really human in the first place. Or akumas. Something is very wrong here. I don’t like it.”

She felt Adrien shuffle nervously beside her, and her posture straightened like she’d been smacked with a rod, her head whipping up to meet Adrien’s concerned eyes again.

“Oh goodness, I’m so sorry! I shouldn’t be blabbing all this stuff to you, especially after what you’ve just been through. You’re safe now and I’ll make sure it stays that way, alright? I swear it! So, please try not to worry about it. I’ll discuss this incident with Chat Noir and see if he knows anything about this weird phenomenon, okay? We’ll protect you.” She grinned and took his hands into hers, giving it a gentle squeeze.

An odd look crossed his face, but it shifted into a cordial smile before she could think much of it. “Right. Thanks, Ladybug. I’m sorry you had to get dragged into this.”

Ladybug sputtered, “Not at all! Please don’t be sorry! It’s my job! I was happy to do so! W-well, I mean– not happy you almost got– I mean, obviously not that, but happy that you... that I—“ she stopped her ramblings with a loud, embarrassed facepalm. “Ow. Anyway, you know what I mean,” she finished with a self-deprecating grin.

Adrien was about to reply when the door to the infirmary swung open, crashing into the adjacent wall with a loud bang.

“ADRIEN!!! BRO, ARE YOU OKAY??!” a despondent-sounding Nino rushed to his side, throwing his arms around him without even noticing Ladybug’s presence, a concerned Alya following closely behind.

Adrien hugged him back, touched at his concern. “Nino!! Boy, am I glad to see you! I’m fine, really!”

“You’re not hurt?? You’re really okay?!”

“Of course! I’m fine now, all thanks to Ladybug and Mar— wait…” His head whipped around the room, squinting his eyes as he searched (the action reminding Ladybug that Adrien’s glasses were still missing). “Where’s Marinette? She’s not with you guys?”

Ladybug let out an odd squeak, then tried covering it up with a cough.

Alya shook her head. “I tried calling her, but there’s been no answer. But someone pulled the fire alarm and called the cops, so maybe that was her? I was able to squeeze some info out of one of the officers. He said a young woman called and claimed she saw Adrien Agreste get taken away in a vehicle against his will. He mentioned that she sounded out of breath, almost like she was running or chasing after them. If that doesn’t sound like Marinette, then I don’t know what does.”

Adrien bit the side of his cheek, brows upturned in concern. “She saw us and tried fighting the assailants. She could be injured, I have to go find her,” he said as he stood up, still wobbly but able to do it unassisted.

“NO!!” Ladybug yelped, leaping off the sofa like it was made of hot coals, and they all looked up at her. “I mean, you shouldn’t push yourself. D-don’t worry, I’m sure she’s on her way! You should stay here so she knows where to find you! No sense in having you both running around and potentially missing each other, right?”

Adrien crossed his arms, not quite convinced, but deciding to follow her instructions. “Well… I-I guess. We should try her cell phone again.”

Ladybug continued, words dribbling out like a broken faucet, “Anyhoo, my earrings are about to beep again, so I’d better get going! But you all know how to get a hold of me if anything happens, right guys? Right?? Right... Anyway, bug out!!”

And with that, Ladybug scampered away like a white rabbit late for a tea party.

A few minutes later (the entirety of which Adrien spent answering Nino and Alya’s worried queries as well as filling out a police report) a rather rumpled-looking Marinette quietly entered the room, not wanting to interrupt.

She didn’t stay undetected for long, however. Upon seeing her, Adrien’s features morphed from surprise into joy, followed by relief, then concern. He’d never seen her look quite so… tired .

He must’ve uttered her name out loud because she approached them sheepishly. “Umm… hi. S-sorry, it took me a little while to walk back to the school and my phone ran out of battery on the way. Are you oka––”

Adrien sprung off his seat and shuffled towards her, halfway dragging his still-sluggish legs. He threw his arms around her, clutching her as tight as he could, as if she might disappear again at any second.

“Marinette, thank God,” he cooed, gently cradling the back of her head. “I don’t know how to thank you. If it hadn’t been for you, I would’ve been–”

“You would’ve done the same for me,” she said as she embraced him with matching fervor. “I’m just glad you’re okay now.”

They felt a large thwump as someone wrapped their arms around them, followed by another set of arms joining the pile.

“This most definitely calls for a group hug,” Nino said, squeezing hard.

“Especially after what Adrien told us happened,” Alya added. “Girl, you are so brave! I’m so proud of you!! Ladybug and Chat Noir better watch out or you’ll be stealing their jobs soon!” Adrien heard Marinette let out an amused snort as he and Nino chimed in in agreement.

Now that the danger had passed and the adrenaline had subsided, a moment of calm was exactly what they needed.

As the group pulled apart and he was able to get a better look at her, it was then that Adrien noticed how truly beaten up Marinette appeared, physically. Her hair was out of place, her clothes torn in a few spots, her usual hair accessory was missing, and she was covered in grime, cuts, and bruises.

“Oh, Mari…” he whispered sadly as he slowly turned her head by the chin, gently thumbing a large cut on her lips and ghosting the tips of his fingers over a darkening black eye, moving her hair out of the way.

Marinette then realized that, in the midst of all the commotion, Ladybug had forgotten to use her Miraculous Cure.

Damn it! Screwed up yet another thing today.

She wondered if she could summon another Lucky Charm later today and try to fix things then . She’d never tried using a Lucky Charm outside of battle once the danger had already passed. Would it even work?

Marinette winced. “That bad, eh? Do I have to wear a paper bag over my head for a few days to avoid frightening the children of Paris?” she joked. She instinctively stuck out her tongue to search for the cut on her lip, then flinched when the wetness of her saliva made it sting.

Adrien frowned. “Nonsense. Here,” he said, leading her by the hand back to the sofa. After she sat down, he began gathering some of the first aid materials that the nurse had left on the countertop, then rummaged through the drawers and cupboards for more.

Marinette let out a flustered squeak as he brought the supplies over and pulled up a chair, sitting across from her.

“Oh! Don’t worry about it, it’s totally not necessary,” she said, holding her hands up. “I can take care of it later, it’s no big deal, you should really get some rest–”

Adrien leaned forward in his seat, reaching for her hand. “Please. Let me do this.” he murmured, insistent. “It’s the least I can do.”

Marinette could feel her face getting flushed from all the attention, but didn’t want to argue with him. He was clearly blaming himself for what had happened, and maybe this would be a way to help him feel better, even though it wasn’t his fault whatsoever. She shyly tucked some hair behind her ear, then nodded in consent.

As Adrien treated Marinette’s wounds, they overheard Principal Damocles and Madame Bustier conversing as they walked down the hallway outside of the nurse’s office.

“—And now there isn’t even anyone left behind for Monsieur Agreste to press charges, since the police claim that the perpetrators disappeared into thin air!” Mr. Damocles lamented as he paused in front of the slightly ajar infirmary door. “It’s not like he can sue Ladybug or the authorities for their negligence in capturing the culprits. Or, come to think of it, maybe he can! He is friends with the mayor, after all,” he pondered, continuing his musings. “Regardless, the blame will surely fall upon us!”

“Perhaps this isn’t the time to worry about that, Principal Damocles,” Mme Bustier spoke in a more hushed tone. “Surely M. Agreste must be feeling absolutely distraught after what nearly happened to his son. He’s such a caring and devoted father, always worrying about Adrien’s well-being, especially since his wife’s disappearance. His son is all he has left. We should try to be more considerate.”

“Hmm, yes, I suppose you are correct. Perhaps if we send him a basket of fruit to show our condolences about this incident, he’ll let the whole thing slide and we can avoid a lawsuit.”

“Sir…” Caline Bustier let out a troubled sigh as the two continued down the hallway.

The room was quiet again and Marinette had to work really hard to suppress an irritated groan, as her acting skills were put to the ultimate test of avoiding outwardly cringing at her principal’s misdirected priorities.

Her attention turned back towards Adrien, and at this point she realized that his actions had halted. His arm hovered in mid-air holding a cotton ball soaked in antiseptic, glassy eyes staring blankly at the ground. He looked rather pale, almost like he’d seen a ghost, and his face was downcast, yet somehow still unreadable. She supposed that years of concealing his emotions came naturally for him as well.

Marinette knew that Adrien’s relationship with his father was rather strained, particularly over the past year, with him becoming more and more strict and Adrien having to deal with increasing pressure to maintain a near-impossible standard of conduct. But judging by Adrien’s dramatic shift in mood, she couldn’t help but wonder if there was more to it than that.

She reached forward, lightly touching his opposite forearm to get his attention. His gaze whipped up to meet hers, his eyes revealing an ocean of sorrow. But he cleared his throat and gave her a small smile, that perfect default smile, the one that she hated seeing on him. Then he resumed tending to her various wounds, briefly apologizing for getting distracted.

She noticed in her peripheral vision a miffed-looking Nino pulling Alya to the other side of the room, speaking in hushed tones. She couldn’t hear what they were saying, but it sounded like they were disagreeing about something.

“–You can’t just go around making those kinds of accusations!” Alya hissed, almost too quiet for Marinette to hear. “It’s literally the worst time for that!”

“I won’t!” Nino whispered back. “... For now. But it doesn’t mean I’m gonna stop suspecting him. I’m telling you, he’s not a good dude! If he’s such a ‘perfect’ father, why isn’t he here right now?! After what just happened?” His posture drooped and he crossed his arms. “I just… I’m worried about Adrien, babe. What if he’s not actually okay?” he asked with a slight quiver in his voice.

“Oh, Nino…” Alya’s face softened as she brought him into a tight embrace. “Everything’s gonna be fine, hon. Don’t worry.”

She glanced over and made eye contact with Marinette, giving her a small smile; then she and Nino walked off together to a more secluded area to continue their private conversation.

Adrien finished wrapping up a nasty-looking gash on her shin, which had bled through her pants leg. He’d rolled up the fabric to treat the wound, and was now rolling it back down.

“Thank you, Adrien,” she said quietly. “I should get going, my parents are probably worried; they usually keep the news radio turned on in the bakery, so they’ve probably already heard about what happened.”

Adrien stood when she did. Always a gentleman, she thought with a smile.

“Will you be alright? Can I walk you home?” he asked.

Marinette spluttered incredulously. “You’re asking me if I’m alright?! After all that you just went through??”

He shrugged slightly, giving her a tiny, contrite smile. “Well… you went through it with me. And, as amazing as you are, you’re not unbreakable. I just wanna be there for you like you were for me today. And like every time you’ve been there whenever I needed someone.”

Marinette’s heart thumped loudly in her chest, touched by his concern and gratitude. He spoke so sincerely, and she could sense that many things were left unspoken, and there was a weight behind his words that she couldn’t decipher. “What about your car ride?”

“I…” he faltered slightly. “I’ll tell them to pick me up from your place. No biggie.”

“Well… if you’re sure. The company would be nice,” she relented.

“Great!” he said cheerfully, offering his arm. “You can be my seeing-eye mouse.”

“A what? A seeing-eye mouse?” she giggled. “Actually, that reminds me–” she paused, opening her purse and rummaging through it.

Adrien’s eyes grew wide as she conjured up his missing eyeglasses from within.

“I went looking for them before coming to find you. It was lucky that they were still there, in the locker room. One of the lenses has a small scratch, but they should still work fine until you can buy a new pair.”

Adrien let out a small, incredulous laugh, then put on his glasses. “I can’t believe you went back for them. You’re a lifesaver, Marinette; in so many ways. Thank you.”

Marinette’s face warmed at the compliment, despite trying hard to smolder the remainders of a flame that was once there. She cleared her throat and teased, “Can I still be your seeing-eye dog?”

“You mean, my ‘seeing-eye mouse’!”

She raised an amused eyebrow. “Why a mouse?”

“You’d be a mouse ‘cause you’re little and cute!”

Marinette blew a raspberry as she giggled. “You’re such a dork! Alright, I’ll do it, but you’d better be there when I need someone to fetch something from the top shelves!”

Adrien chuckled and gave her a wink. “That’s a promise.”

–––––

As some of you correctly guessed: YES! The peacock miraculous was used to create sentimonsters in the image of Adrien's old bodyguard to deceive him and take him back to Gabriel.

There's some plot decisions I have to make (whether to follow my original outline of what comes next or if I need to tweak some things to improve the flow of the story), so it's back to "normal" updates again, but I'll do my best to update a bit more consistently :)

[bonjour-rainycity]

The Long Way Around ~ Chapter 6

Link to previous part: https://bonjour-rainycity.tumblr.com/post/623283543296049154/the-long-way-around-chapter-5

Pairing: Jasper x Reader

Word count: 1954

Warnings: None

Jasper’s POV

I sigh, trying to concentrate on the papers before me. Once Y/n came into our lives, I had decided to halt my studies at school. She arrived during the summer so it wasn’t like anyone would notice my sudden, and perhaps suspicious, disappearance from class, but my family agreed that we could really only afford for one or two of us to deviate from our cover story. So once classes resumed in the fall, all but I continued attendance at the local university. Once she found out, Y/n had lamented at my loss of education and insisted I continue studying at least something of interest. She didn’t seem to understand how little a year or two out of school would affect me, given how many times I’ve gone through both high school and varying post-graduate degrees. But still, the gesture was kind so I agreed and have sent spent a few hours every day since that conversation brushing up on my world history. Right now I’m camped in the basement where we keep our extensive library (excluding the volumes found in Carlisle’s office and our individual rooms) digging through first-hand accounts of Otto von Bismarck’s rise to influence. It’s interesting enough, but still, my attention is elsewhere. At least half of my focus is upstairs, carefully monitoring Y/n’s moods. She’s become much more even as time passes, but still, not keeping tabs on her makes me nervous. Newborns are so unpredictable and so reliant on their emotions that at any moment, she could react badly and cause herself or someone else harm. It’s not that I don’t trust her, it’s just that I know how this goes. And I would hate myself if anything happened to my family or Y/n, especially if I could have done something to prevent it.

She’s been struggling recently with missing her family and friends, and that’s always difficult. For most of us, we had been immediately taken away from our loved ones plus had been changed during a time when news recordings and social media didn’t exist. Y/n does not have that luxury. At least once a week, she’ll find some news source with reports from her parents or come across a social media page of one of her friends. It breaks her heart. Secretly, I had gone to Carlisle and discussed the benefits of moving. It only adds to Y/n’s pain being only a handful of miles from the people she loves, and perhaps moving away would aid in her healing. But Carlisle shot the idea down, citing our advantageous location and the dangers of moving cross-country with a volatile newborn. So, instead, I sought to distract her. One of the reasons she felt bad about stopping my schooling is because her own had been paused suddenly due to her untimely death. So, I loaned her a few of my old textbooks, which she has been studying relentlessly. Carlisle also offered his services, and it’s not uncommon to find Y/n perched in one of the chairs in his office grilling him about everything under the medical sun. All in all, she’s adjusting well. Still, I worry. At the drop of a dime, her control could slip or her emotions could get the best of her. That’s why, when I feel her switch from a relaxed, curious state to one of annoyance, I take notice, and listen.

“You really need to let your human life go, Y/n. At this point, you’re only dragging out your own pain. There’s nothing you can do about it anyway. That life is as lost to you as your soul.”

Now I feel annoyance at my brother’s predictable morose attitude. Even to this day, Edward grapples with losing humanity and, according to him, his soul, and often pushes those feelings onto others. As far as I can tell, Y/n doesn’t believe vampirism has damned her, and I would like to keep Edward from putting those thoughts in her head. They simply aren’t true.

Y/n responds with a biting tone. “They’re my loved ones, Edward, not yours. Please don’t tell me how to deal with losing them. If you don’t like my thoughts, stay out of my head.”

Rosalie chimes in, always interested in fighting with Edward. “Really, Edward, back off. You’re the one who helped Bella keep her precious humans in our life and risked our exposure, so you’ve no room to talk here.” It was the wrong thing to say. Y/n’s anger flares.

“Hypocrite! That is such a double standard!”

I feel Edward’s anger increase too, and I know they’re filling a keg with powder and readying their matches. I hurry upstairs.

“It’s different. Bella was going through a lot and-”

“And I’m not?” Y/n’s incredulity is plain.

Rosalie scoffs.“What precious Bella wants, she gets. The rest of us are expected to live by a different set of rules.”

“Okay guys, let’s take this down a notch.” Emmett intervenes as I get to the top of the stairs.

“I agree.”

Y/n’s eyes flicker to mine, and I register her guilt. Why?

Whatever’s in her mind causes Edward to scoff. “You’re not bothering him with your emotions, he lives for this stuff. It makes him feel like he has some kind of purpose.”

“You are so pessimistic,” Y/n groans, putting her head in her hands. “Whatever. I am not doing this anymore. I’m going for a walk. Jasper?”

Immediately, I’m at her side, not even needing to think about joining her. It’s just natural, at this point, to be with her.

She smiles tightly as we walk out the back door, and I can tell she’s trying to calm herself down. “Sorry I interrupted your studying.”

I shrug, honestly not bothered at all. “Don’t worry about it. It’s nice to get outside….The leaves are just starting to change.”

Now, her smile becomes much more natural. “Aren’t they gorgeous? It’s even better now that I can see them with these new eyes. And I can hear the crunch when I step on them and the smell of fall is just,” she sighs, a dreamy look in her eye. But then I feel the sadness creep back in.

I’m hesitant to ask, not wanting to upset her further. “Are you alright?”

She bites the inside of her cheek and looks away. When she finally speaks again, her voice is unsteady. “I just really, really miss my family. It’s hard to leave them and come to terms with…what I am. And of course I’m so grateful that I have all of you,—well,” she chuckles darkly, “today I could do without Edward but that’s beside the point.” She trails off, lost in her thoughts.

I look into the horizon, enjoying the light of the setting sun but regretting the added sadness she’s suffered on behalf of my brother. “I’m sorry he upset you. I can talk to him tomorrow-”

“Oh, that’s alright,” she waves a hand, smiling softly. “Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do with your siblings? Argue?”

I chuckle, nodding. We certainly do argue.

She turns to face me then, stopping her walking. “Thank you though.”

The sunlight filters through the trees, hitting our skin and illuminating us. She gasps softly, and I sense her wonderment. She’s seen what the sun does to our skin many times, but it never ceases to amaze her. It’s really sweet. Slowly, she reaches up and lightly trails her fingers over the side of my face where the sun hits. I freeze, not wanting to make any movement that would cause her to stop. I enjoy her touch much more than I would like to admit. It feels so nice to be handled so softly, compared to the harshness I’d become accustomed to in my past. I close my eyes.

“Beautiful,” she breathes, letting her hand fall.

I smile, enjoying this moment. “It is one of the more mesmerizing attributes of this life.”

Now, I feel her playfulness. “You know what else is great? The speed.”

My mood soon matches hers. “Wanna race?”

She frowns, turning in the direction of the house. “Oh, no I think we should-”

And then she’s off, laughing wildly. I shake my head, realizing I’ve just been tricked and, with a laugh of my own, take off at a sprint after her.

{***}

“Jasper,” she starts, sitting down on the rock next to me. “Where are all the other vampires?”

“All over, really, though most tend to avoid especially sunny cities.” I shake water from the river off my hands. A few seconds prior, I’d reached in to grab some pebbles to skip. “We’re the largest coven in the area. Anyone else around here is likely a loner or part of a nomad coven.”

She pauses, thinking. “Doesn’t anyone ever come to visit?”

“Very rarely, and Alice can sometimes give us some warning, though not always. But the nomads that visit usually leave very quickly. We don’t allow them to hunt in this area, as it could raise suspicion and cause problems for us. That tends to make extended stays unappealing.”

“Well, what about friends?”

I smirk. “Vampires don’t really have friends.”

This confuses her. “Then what are you and your family? You’re certainly not just acquaintances.”

I smile, thinking of the best way to explain the complicated relationships between vampires. “Let me rephrase: most vampires don’t have friends. Carlisle theorizes that, because we don’t drink human blood, we’re less animalistic, a little less reliant on our instincts. Instincts that, under normal circumstances, would keep us from forming bonds because other vampires generally pose a threat to getting a meal.” She nods, understanding. “Because we are slightly more, human, for a lack of a better word, we do enjoy friendships and closer relationships, like I have with my adopted siblings. Realistically, though, that’s not how it works at all. For normal vampires, the only type of close relationship they experience is between mates. Those relationships last forever though, so I guess it’s enough to satisfy the need for connection.”

Y/n raises her eyebrows, disbelieving. “You’re telling me immortal vampires are monogamous for life?”

I chuckle. “Apparently, once you find the right one it’s just natural. I’ve seen it happen, felt the feelings they feel. It’s intense.”

She considers this, but says nothing further. Until, “have you ever felt that way?”

Subconsciously, I study the scars on my hands. “I thought I did.”

“With Maria,” she guesses. Y/n knows most of my history, so it’s no surprise that she’s able to put the pieces together of my involvement with Maria. Strangely, I find myself wishing that I could say no, that I’ve never been with with anyone like that. Or, at least, that I’d never been involved with Maria like that.

“Have you,” I counter to distract from my sudden regret.

She shakes her head, a soft smile playing on her lips. “My human memories are fading by the day, but I’m pretty sure the answer is no. My twenty years of life were nothing to write home about.”

Now it’s my turn to smile, somewhat ruefully. “You’ve got millennia ahead of you. I’m sure at least something notable will occur.”

She chuckles, shrugging. “Perhaps. For now, I should just focus on making it through the rest of this year.”

“We’ll get you through it,” I answer, confident.

She hugs her knees into her chest, feeling peaceful. “I believe you.” Then, her playfulness returns. “But step one should be feeding me, because I’m starving.”

I chuckle, stand, and offer her a hand. She grabs it, allowing me to pull her up. “Lead the way.”

A/n Let me know what you thought of this chapter/the characters and if you would like to be added to the tag list! I hope you all have a good day/night <3

xx, 

Bjr

Link to next part: https://bonjour-rainycity.tumblr.com/post/623476978292555776/the-long-way-around-chapter-7

Tag list: @puer-de-infinitate @charliestuff @hindustani-diaspora @one-thread-can-save-a-life @salsameter @enchantedcruelsummer @meashy-moo

[breanime]

Heartworm (Part Two)

So, first of all, I want to say thank you to everyone for all the love for Part One. So here’s the next part for you lovely folks. So Part Two is from Billy’s POV.

*gif not mine*

Every moment was agony for Billy. His face hurt when he was awake, his heart hurt when he slept; it was never-ending. The pain he could power through—even though it was the most intense and lingering pain he’d ever felt in his life—it was the confusion and isolation that really bothered him. He only ever saw hospital staff and security, and only two people ever spoke to him: Dr. Dumont and the cop.

Billy had decided to pretend to be asleep whenever the cop came to see him. It wasn’t hard to lay still while she spat venom at him and cursed his name—they always strapped him down in this cocoon thing when non-staff came to see him. She really hated him, but he had no idea who she was. He asked the doctor about her before, but she just said what she always said: “you have to remember for yourself.”

But he couldn’t. Every day he regained a memory, or some fragment of one, but nothing recent. He knew he had been scarred horribly—seen his face, the deep scars, the exposed muscle, every morning before he put on his mask—and he knew he’d been shot and stabbed, but he didn’t remember how. Or by who. He knew he had probably killed people to earn those scars—why else would he be restrained and on lockdown? But he couldn’t remember who he killed or why… He remembered who he was. He knew his own name and stats and his past, but he didn’t know who he had become to end up where he was now. He was able to piece some things together: he got on the wrong side of Homeland Security and the NYPD, he’d been in a coma for 6 months due to the trauma he sustained during “the fight” (that’s what the doctor called it), Anvil had been taken from him—and had apparently become a very lucrative business since he first founded it, but he was still plagued with questions. How did he get here? What did he do? How long would he have to stay here? But there were only two questions that he really wanted the answers to: who did this to him and where were you?

Billy was consumed by those questions. He dreamt only of those two things. He saw a bloody skull coming at him in his dreams, an image he scribbled in his journal over and over again, trying to force some kind of revelation out of himself. He also saw you, standing in the rain in front of a flower cart. Your eyes were always so sad, so full of hurt, in his dreams. He hated it. He hated seeing you like that, and he hated knowing that it was probably him that did that to you, that made you sad. He didn’t draw that. He didn’t need to, he saw your sad eyes in his dreams and when he was awake. He tried to remember the last time he had seen you, been with you, but the memories were all scattered and disjointed. It made his head hurt. He couldn’t concentrate, couldn’t think straight when he got like that. He wanted to see you, but he was scared to ask for you. What if something had happened to you? He couldn’t bear that. He could endure anything—his face, his scars, his fucked-up mind—if he knew you were safe. And happy. He had to hold onto that delusion, that you were somewhere safe without him, in order to maintain. He had to maintain… He had to get the hell out of here. He had to get to you. He had to kill the skull.

The doctor was talking to him again. She talked a lot, but she hardly said anything of worth. Billy had mixed feelings about his court-ordered therapy sessions with Dr. Dumont. On one hand: he got to talk with another human being, and sometimes—rarely—she even said something helpful. But on the other hand, Billy was pretty sure she was a quack. She spoke to him like she knew all his secrets but wouldn’t tell him. She was fixated on his face and obsessed with trying to get him to talk about the way he decorated his mask—he wanted answers from her, but all she gave him were platitudes and hypotheticals. Today she was focusing on his ‘anger issues’. She was going on and on about how his mask symbolized his anger and the turbulence in his mind and how he needed to come to terms with it to be at peace. It was a load of bullshit. Billy Russo had never been at peace…except when he was with you.

“Tell me, Billy,” the doctor was giving him that close-lipped smile again. God, he hated that smile. “Tell me, have the dreams gotten any better?”

Billy rolled his neck, trying to get the tension out. He hated talking about the dreams. It just made him agitated and nervous and made his face hurt. “You know they haven’t,” he growled through his mask.

“Have you been sleeping at all?”

“You have access to my charts,” he drawled, “you tell me.”

Her lips stretched as her smile got bigger. Billy thought, not for the first time, that he might have been attracted to her in another lifetime. Maybe. “But I want to hear if from you, Billy,” she said sweetly, “Charts are just words on paper, I can get so much more from hearing you speak on your experiences.”

“I haven’t been sleeping,” he said, more to get her to stop talking than anything else, “I can’t sleep.”

“Do you see the skull?”

Billy grit his teeth. “You know I do.” He answered.

“What happens when you see it?”

“Pain,” Billy dipped his head and ran a hand through his short hair. They cut his hair when he was sleeping. You used to love his hair. “Pain. It—it hurts,” he put both hands on his head now. His head was pounding. His face was burning. “I keep seeing that skull, it haunts me, it, it won’t stop,” he dug his nails into his scalp and squeezed his eyes shut. His mask was suffocating him. “It won’t stop, and I—I can’t remember, I can’t see who it is, I can’t remember what happened…” He looked up at the doctor. Her eyes were wide, and she wasn’t smiling anymore. “How did this happen to me?”

“You were hurt in a fight, remember?” She said, putting her clipboard flat on her lap. “You sustained multiple lacerations and partial amnesia—”

“I know that!” Billy was on his feet in seconds. The doctor stood up as well, clipboard falling to the floor. “I know that already, I want to know how this happened to me! Who was I fighting? Who did this to me?”

“Billy,” she put a hand up, “you have to calm down. Take a deep breath.”

Billy felt his chest rising and falling as he hyperventilated. “My face hurts,” he complained, pacing back and forth with his hands in his hair, “It hurts so bad and they won’t give me any medicine, they won’t help me! I can’t sleep,” his chest was heaving, “I can’t think, I—I don’t know how this happened to me—”

“Billy,” Dr. Dumont’s voice was stern, “Count five blue things.”

His dark eyes moved around the room. Five blue things. “The wallpaper,” he said, voice shaky.

“Good. That’s one.”

“And—and---the bowl, and the—the drapes, over there,” he pointed.

“That’s three. Go on, five blue things.”

“Your shirt,” his breathing was becoming less labored now, “that—that pen is blue.” He pulled the collar on his shirt. “This is blue.”

She smiled. “Good. That’s even more than I asked for. Yes, good job, Billy,” she sat down, “Do you want a break?”

He took a breath. A break meant he went back to being alone, if he was lucky, he’d get some journal time, but more likely he’d be cocooned again for a few hours until their next session. “No,” he huffed out, “I… I want to talk.”

“Would you like to sit down?”

“Yes.” He took a seat and put his elbows on his knees, holding his aching head.

“I know it must be hard, Billy,” the doctor’s voice was making his headache worse, “but you’ve made some incredible process so far. All those questions you have, the confusion in your brain, you have the answers. We just have to sift through the pieces to get to them.”

“I. Can’t. Remember.” He said through clenched teeth.

“Let’s go back,” she suggested brightly, “talk to me about what you do remember. Last time we talked, you said you remembered your office, at Anvil? What was it like?”

Billy smiled underneath the mask.

“This is your office?” Your eyes had been wide and bright. “Shit, Billy, it’s huge!”

“Sounds like our first time all over again,” he joked, coming to stand beside you. He put an arm around your waist and pulled you to his side. You had been the first and only person he wanted to show Anvil to. The money from Rawlins had helped him secure a nice building to start his company. “You like it?” Yours was the only opinion that mattered to him.

“I love it,” you gushed, “Billy, it’s—it’s amazing!” You put a hand on his chest. “But…How can we afford it?”

He’d been prepared for that question. “Military back-pay finally kicked in,” he said easily, “It’s all covered.”

Your smile had been brilliant. “I’m so proud of you.” Billy had kissed you then. You were still smiling when he pulled away. “Frank would have been proud of you, too.” You said softly.

Billy had put both arms around you and pulled you in for another kiss then. Your lips had been so soft, so perfect. It was like you had been made for him, and vice versa. “You know,” he had been looking straight into your pretty eyes as he spoke, “none of this would mean anything if I didn’t have you.”

“Well,” you put your arms around his shoulders, “it’s a good thing you have me, then.” You brought your lips to his. “And you always will.”

Billy sat up, blinking as he looked across the room. He wanted—hoped—to see the empty, promising space of his office. He wanted to see you in his arms, grinning proudly up at him, ready to take on the world with him. Instead he saw the sterile, blue walls of the hospital and a smiling Dr. Dumont. He felt his blood boil. “I’m sick of this bullshit,” he said, voice low. Dr. Dumont frowned. “I’m sick of just talking and—and asking questions and gettin’ no answers,” his foot was tapping rapidly now, “I know you know what happened to me, who did this,” he gestured angrily at his mask, “to me.”

“I don’t—”

“—Is it in there?” He indicated the file underneath her notes on the clipboard.

She hugged the clipboard to her chest and shook her head. “These are just notes from our sessions.”

“Let me see.” He held his hand out.

“Let’s talk about your day. The guards tell me you exercise daily?” She said, trying to deflect.

Billy stood up again, slowly, eyes never leaving the doctor’s paling face. “Gimme the file.”

“Billy, you won’t find the answers in here,” she said back, standing her ground.

“You don’t know that!” He yelled, head pounding anew. “Nobody will tell me anything, and my face hurts, and I just want to know what happened to me! Who did this to me?”

“Billy—”

“How did this happen to me?!” He screamed. He heard footsteps approaching but didn’t curb his temper. What little patience he had was long gone now. “W—where’s Y/N?”

“Y/N? Billy, who is that?”

Billy slapped his chair, and it clattered against the wall with a loud bang. “Y/N Y/L/N!” He shouted. He heard guards at the door. “I want to see her, I want to see Curtis!”

“Billy, Billy, count five blue th—”

“—No more counting! No more fucking finger painting, no more journals! My head is killing me, and I don’t know why,” Billy could feel his eyes watering up, “Why won’t you help me?!”

The guards burst through the door, and Billy felt a wave of relief hit him. Finally, he could relieve some stress. A few months ago, Billy would have been too weak to react. They kept him heavily sedated for a while—whether that was to treat his injuries or to keep him compliant, he wasn’t sure. They still wouldn’t let him do much as far as exercise, but he did sit-ups and some light cardio in his room when he could. Plus, he had his training—that shit was second nature to him now. Billy grinned behind his mask as the first guard came at him.

When it was all said and done, and Billy was surrounded by a bunch of unconscious guards, he really was starting to feel a hell of a lot better. He took the doctor and made her lead him out of the hospital. It felt good to ditch her, the air on his skin felt good, the sound of life, of cars beeping, of people chattering, felt so good in his ears. Billy took the doctor’s wallet before he left and used some of her money to grab a bus ticket. He was in the process of planning his next move—he had to see you, but he didn’t want you to see him like this: dressed in his hospital clothes with no shoes—when some asshole started harassing him.

Billy didn’t react as the man taunted him, didn’t even blink when he pushed his head. He did, however, notice the guy had a similar build as he himself had…

…and shoes.

***********************************************************************************

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[icarus-imagines]

Hermione Granger X Female!Hufflepuff!Reader

Could you do a hermione granger x female hufflepuff reader?

Word Count: 3,053

~Her Freckles Taste Like Cinnamon~

“Hermione, stop it…”

Hermione, despite being told what to do, even though the voice was soft spoken, in fact, did not ‘stop it’. She continued on, her quill that held a pretty raven colored feather, swishing quickly back and forth with the quick movements of her well-trained hand. Words of deep and dark black ink stained the beigish/brown parchment, leaving her handwriting of concentrated hard work in its wake. This only seems to aggravate the one who had spoken up however, you, to the point they had to devise another way to get Gryffindor Granger to stop her actions.

With a swift jerk of your hand, you snatched up the quill that had once been placed in her pretty little hands. While it could have been classified as a very rude thing to do, it was the only way to get her attention. Because when she was focused on something all the other things behind her would wash away and become a blur in her peripheral vision of sight.

Holding the quill in your hands you pulled it farther away from her when she tried to reach forward to take hold of it once again. Her usual warm gingerbread eyes glare intensely into your own (E/c) with such a ferocity that you could only conclude that whatever she was going through truly was of more importance than mere homework. How troubled inside she could be, yet on the outside look like the same girl people believed her to be.

“Please, give it back,” Hermione whisper-yelled with desperation. If it was not for the fact you were both in the library you wondered what she would have done instead. “I need it.”

“You say you need this,” you start, silently pulling a chair and sitting beside her, “but you don’t seek what you truly need.”

She stares at you perplexed for a few moments before retracting her hand to ball into her lap as a small sign of defeat. While you were an ordinary Hufflepuff girl you talked like a Ravenclaw. Your words were somehow like writing poetry when they spilled from your lips. All people who knew you would all agree that even if you had called someone an atrocious and nasty name it would still sound like bell chimes on the porch of a cozy house. Everything you said was a lullaby, on that Hermione needed more than she knew. With her rough exterior, she needed someone to calm her thoughts and insecurities.

Oh, how she needed you more than life itself yet even she herself didn’t know it.

With a small sigh, she momentarily forgot about the mass of books, both open and stacked, on the table along with the long winding parchment paper for an essay due next week, to instead look at you. Her dark and nicely bushy hair brushed over her shoulder when she swirled her head to look at you. Those eyes of earthquakes stopped their assault and focused on you. Just you. And nothing else that was raging on inside.

“What is it that I need?” she sighed a bit. She may have not looked like she was enjoying this conversation, but deep down inside she was. She was glad you noticed her very very subtle change in her demeanor today. You, besides maybe Harry and Ron, knew what truly went on in that impressive brain of hers.

“A shoulder to cry on,” you replied simply, standing up for a second to scoot your chair closer to you. Both your bare legs touched each other, due to the short skirt, and you could feel her skin heating against your already.

Her eyes widened a bit in what you perceived as not only shock and confusion but startlement and fright. “W-What?” her words wavered into a stutter that you knew she would be internally cursing herself with.

“Hermione,” you said sweetly like that of cajolement as not to anger her or even worse, scare her off. “As your girlfriend, there are rules I must abide by, you know.”

Her eyebrows furrowed together in confusion, but her cheekbones dusting with a delectable pink from your word of ‘girlfriend’. While gay-marriage and all that followed under the umbrella term was allowed, but it was still a touchy subject to those who did not like the act. Hermione’s parents were one of the few getting used to the idea, so having their own daughter have these tendencies and likes was still confusing. Since she was taught at such a young age to believe certain ideals, it still made her flustered when the topic came up.

She loved you with every fiber in her being. The taboo rule of being a same-sex couple just made her feel like she wasn’t abiding by the laws for which they had been placed for more than a few decades. It was like a dessert she could never eat even though her mouth was telling her to devour it. You were that dessert, that caramel filled chocolate that made her not care about rules or peoples judgment.

But sometimes...it did get to her.

“Rules,” she asked slowly, trying to figure out what you meant. “What rules?”

You reached over and gingerly took her hand in yours. Overall, her hand was smooth and like a girl’s was supposed to be, but on her fingertips, there were tenuous bumps from calluses. All the years she had spent writing, flipping pages from books, conjuring up potions to help her friend group called the ‘Golden Trio’. One might find it unladylike, to have rough hands, even though hers were still quite nice. But you found it utterly fascinating.

How she had been through so much in such a short amount of time. To think she was a normal schoolgirl in England, but now a student under the tutelage of wizards in a school of magic in Scotland. She had progressed so far, done so many things. You idolize her even before she knew of your name. Before she even knew you, a poetic Hufflepuff, even existed. To be her significant other was like a dream come true and you never wanted it to end.

“Well,” you began, your right hand, which was not occupied with her own, tapping on your chin in thought, “wouldn’t you think it was my duty to always make you happy?”

A sideways smile appeared on her face and while she tried to make it look real, it was obviously fake. She knew you probably knew this too, you knew everything about her. “But I am happy,” she tried to persuade you to think so. “Why would you think I am anything else but happy?”

Your face turns from playful to serious in the span of five seconds after she utters those words. “I know you're not happy. It’s quite easy to tell even though your best friends Harry and Ron might not figure it out.”

Her small smile disappears and she wears a frown that makes your insides twist. “Yes, you’re...you're right,” she confirms your deductions, breaking under the pressure of keeping her mask on in front of you. “I haven’t been myself lately and I am more than sure you already know why.”

You get closer to her, your shoulder brushing against her, and even though the clothes covering your bodies separate you two, you swear you can feel the heated skin beneath meeting your own. “Yes, but I can’t really understand why, “ you begin, but quickly try to explain yourself. “I mean I do. I understand just how much he can get on your nerves and drag you down, but…,” you look into her eyes, you orbs small spheres of fire, “I cannot begin to imagine someone like you losing to someone like Malfoy.”

You see the disgust evident on her face when you say his last name, but your words seem to calm her down. They offer her solace and shelter. To know you believe in her and everything she does is more than incredible. Others believe in her too, but your faith in her is selfless. Unconditional love and affection beyond measure.

“He is just that type of person,” she says through her gritted teeth. While the majority of the feelings he inflicted on her to have was that of anger, some of it was sadness. You knew it wasn’t just an inkling in the back of your mind for she continued one. “I used to think boys were amazing, but the older I get the more I feel repulsed.”

“Some boys are good and some are bad. You just need to find the ones who make you feel happy, make you feel like you could conquer the world,” you laugh a little thinking about the Chosen One Harry and the goofy Weasley Is Our King. Your laugh seems to brighten her mood, a genuine smile flitting across her features.

The small, almost undetectable freckles upon her cheeks glow in the low light. They look like sprinkles of bright golden dust, powered on her face to make her look otherworldly. You can’t but lean in. Lean in closer to that very face and softly peck a chaste kiss upon it. An odd thought pops in your head for a second, wondering if you would be able to take those sprinkled freckles and convert them onto your lips.

She smells of spicy cinnamon, such a feisty seasoning, you thought. If they did stick to my lips, which is impossible, would they taste of cinnamon?

As you lean back and open your eyes, you are welcomed with the amusing expression she now sports. With a face the color of summer cherries and gingerbread eyes sparkling with something unknown, you can only think of the million things running through her mind. But before you could question it, she surprises in one of the ways you never thought she would do.

She kisses you.

Her lips are soft and you taste a small, yet still significant, amount of peach from the plump extremities of flesh. Hidden in a more isolated part of the library, she had gained the courage to act upon your flirtation attitude and actions. Replying to her move, you lean into her, a tilt of your head giving you more access to be one with you to a more fulfilling extent.

Her hands come up to clutch at you yellow and black Hufflepuff attire. The cotton of the sweater underneath the traditional robes shift against her hands, almost enticing her to go under, but she stays put. There needs to be no more progress beside this, for this is all she needs. This is close enough for her even though there could be more progression.

Your own hands slid up from her elbows to her shoulders and finally to her head. With one hand, you stick it behind the adjoined meeting place of her neck and the bottom of her skull, while the other comes to cup of her cheek. Both your hands are full with her hot skin, her big hair, and you know then this is all you want from life.

Sooner than either of you wish, you both part in favor of more than needed oxygen. As you inhale air to keep yourselves alive, you still stay close, her darker toned bangs brushing your forehead. You can feel her warm breath wafting over your face, the heat doing nothing to quell the flush you now have obtained yourself. Inhaling a bit you smell the strong scent of cinnamon wafting off of her body. You love the smell. Her own natural scent she carries with her wherever she roams.

Her cute lips are parted in an almost provocative way. Looking at them makes you want to snatch them up again however you do not. Instead, your (E/c) orbs shift from her lips to her eyes. Despite thinking of them to have their pupils full-blown and wide, they are the opposite. They are shiny, gleaming with pure love. No lust, is in them. This fact drives your insides wild knowing this attraction you feel for each other is not some fling. It is here. And it is here to stay.

“You astound me,” you whisper soothingly, feeling the edge of sleep catching you. Or was it lovesickness in disguise, perhaps?

“That is supposed to be my line,” she smiles, a more than adorable giggle flitting past her lips at your compliment to her.

You both giggle together as you untangle yourselves, life becoming the reality once again after indulging into a moment of tranquility. As she fixes her hair, though you doubt anybody would notice, you help stack the open books into neat piles on the wooden desk. Curling up her parchment into her school bag, making sure it is secure and won’t fall out, you push in your chair with a smile.

She looks at her leather school bag hanging from your shoulder, but you quickly wave it off. “I’ve got it,” you tell her.

She grins, her mood somehow brightening the whole room. To know she is thankful for your help makes you all the much more content. Black school shoes click-clacking just quiet enough to not make a big ruckus. You casually grab her arm, linking it with yours, and make it back to your respective common rooms together.

Though she insisted on leading you back, her chivalry shining through, you lead her first to her own Gryffindor common room. You wanted to not only see her off but to make sure she doesn’t have to walk alone after having to go to your much farther away Hufflepuff House common room. What kind of girlfriend would you be if you did that?

Standing idly outside of the common room, far enough from the Fat Lady so she will not overhear your conversations, you give Hermione back her bag. “Thank you,” she speaks, clutching her leather school bag tightly.

“What for?” you chide playfully.

“Helping me,” she replies quickly. “Reminding me that other people's views and opinions cannot dictate what I do with my life. How I lead my life, though it may ‘hurt’ others, should be one that makes me happy. Makes me joyful in everything I do.”

Her words melt your heart, and as she moves forward to put a stray strand of (H/c) hair behind your ear you find yourself replying back. “I want you to live a life a life you do not regret,” you say, though it could have a twinge of sadness peaking through.

She reacted quickly with, “Of course I won’t! With you by my side I know life will be more than worth living.”

“That makes me more than glad you hear you say that,” you murmur.

She smiles at you as a small goodbye and turns to head towards the Fat Lady. She only reaches about three steps before you tug her sleeve back. With a quick movement as she turns to look at you in bewilderment and confusion, you kiss her on the lips. You savor the taste of the peach and the heat of it all. Being swift, before she can do anything about it, you leave her lips and take a kitten lick of her heated cheek.

For a moment she forgets it will soon be past curfew and lets out a tiny shriek. “H-hey! What-What was that for!?”

“An experiment,” you say. “I wanted to figure something out.”

“I swear, all Hufflepuffs are completely lucid,” she sighs as you wipe her cheek clean of anything wet. “Well, did you figure it out?”

You give her a cheeky grin, laughing. “Yes, I now know for sure.”

She looks as if she wants to question you about it, but she lets it go, opting to leave you be. When you were like this she knew it was best to let you complete it without a word of disruption. “Whatever you say, (Y/n),” she bids you goodnight, walking back to the Fat Lady who seems to be giggling from the school love affair situation. “See you at breakfast.”

You wave to her as she disappears behind the painting and is engulfed into the Gryffindor common room. Smiling to yourself you turn on your heels and retreat to your own common room. With (E/c) orbs and flushes (S/c) flushed from the events that have occurred today you know sleep may be harder to come by tonight.

You don’t mind it in the least though. You had helped you fierce girlfriends realize that there are up and downs to living you must conquer. Whether you had a helping hand or none at all, you can get through things. It may be a hard winding road or it might be a straight road off into the horizon. Either way, you would be able to get over it.

Malfoy may not understand this right now, but hopefully, he would soon. Hopefully, he would learn picking on someone because of their blood is something that won't fix your own problems. Healing internally helps with healing externally. You kept in your prays the wish for him to understand this. Whether it starts tomorrow or in the years to come. To see Malfoy grow up and right his wrongs were one thing you desperately wanted to live to see.

Hermione was your inner and external struggle too. That girl with sharp words like a lion’s claws and the combined mind of a revolutionist was your weakness and your strength. A Gryffindor with a Hufflepuff. Such an unusual pair. A strong one though, when fitting bravery and patience together.

You did learn something overall, albeit it was small and probably useless. Yet it made your heart soar to the skies for some unfathomable reason only you yourself would truly know. And may it be an imaginary conclusion or true fact you concluded it was all you needed to know about her.

Her freckles taste like cinnamon...

~The End~

[iamsonyeondone]

we’re a two-player game // jeon jungkook part 2

pairing: jeon jungkook x reader

word count: 1.8k

genre: anGST but dont worry it ends with fluff

part 1 here

You knocked the door a few times before turning the knob and peeking into the room. Jungkook was on his computer, face expressionless. You knew he wasn’t concentrating because he kept getting shot by all of his opponents - they probably thought that he was an easy shot from the way he played. And they were absolutely right.  

Your heart began to pound and it had been a while since Jungkook seemed so distracted. The last time this happened was when a girl had rejected him during his freshman year.

“Hey, Kookie? Aren’t you hungry?” You asked softly, not wanting to interrupt his match even if you desperately wanted his attention on you. Jungkook simply shook his head, his eyes never leaving the screen. Something was definitely not right.

“You know you can tell me anything if it’s bothering you. I’m always here if you need a listening ear,” you raised your voice a little louder, ensuring that he could hear every word you said. But all he did was murmur.

“I’m fine. I’ll be done once this annoying scum is dead.” That was all Jungkook could reply with, not even a glance towards your direction to acknowledge your presence. He seemed more mad then upset as you had predicted. But why was he acting that way? Were there not enough meat in the rice? The last time you checked, Jungkook took charge of the portions and you simply made do with his preferences. So that was definitely not the answer. You tried to rack further into your brain to find the answer, but to no avail.

“It would be nice if you actually looked at me while I’m talking, y'know,” Your temper began to heat from all the frustration that was fueling it. You wanted him to be straightforward with you but seeing as he had already started a passive aggressive war, you knew he was never going back until everything was settled, or when he explodes.

Jungkook looked straight into your eyes, the twinkle in them were now gone and his eyes were dull, only the reflection of the screen were seen in them. You were terrified at how you couldn’t identify his emotions - when he crinkled his nose in disgust or when his eyebrows rose in confusion. In this case, there were no hints as to what Jungkook was feeling. And you were more petrified at the fact that you wouldn’t be able to know how to make him feel better, to see the toothy grin that you already miss so much.

“Kookie…I-”

“If there’s nothing else you need to say, then I’m resuming my game. You’re distracting me from getting this guys ass kicked and it’s getting annoying,” He mumbled, already fumbling with his headset. You were stunned, frozen to the ground. Your best friend was now cold and distant, as if the years of friendship meant nothing. It brought a pang of pain straight through your chest, burning you from the inside and out. The pain you felt was now a leaky faucet, your tears running down your flushed cheeks as you snuffled instinctively. Before you knew it, the leaky faucet was turned into a full outbreak of tears and you weren’t the only one who was shocked at the sight of your break down.

“Yah, Jungkook. If you didn’t have any nice words to say, keep your damn mouth shut,” Taehyung was at the door, his eyebrows were furrowed and the smile that was plastered on his face just a minute ago was now replaced with a frown. He looked towards you, his eyes filled with sympathy at the sight of you. He grabbed your wrist firmly, leading you out of the room as fast as possible. Even with all the denying and ‘I’m fine’s that you could muster or even attempt to speak with the sniffling, it did not reach Tae’s ears. Even if it did, it would have easily slipped out from the other.

——————

The both of you were now at their balcony, the wind of fresh air washing over you with serenity. Your sniffles died down as you wiped your cheeks clean off of the tears that drenched them.

“(Y/N)… What happened back there? Sorry for intruding but I was about to call both of you down because neither of you touched the food. It’s okay if you don’t want to tell me about it. Only do it when you’re ready, okay?”  Taehyung held your hands gently, leading you to the chairs. You thanked him timidly, taking a seat in one of them while Taehyung took the other. And once you took a glance into Tae’s worried eyes once more, the cat was out of the bag in a flash.

“That boy is so oblivious sometimes, it gets on my nerves,” He groaned, ruffling his hair in frustration once you ended the story with a sigh. 

“Oblivious to what?” You questioned. You knew Jungkook could be pretty dumb at making decisions - as reflected on his sleeping schedules - but what could he be oblivious to that related to the mess that happened just a few minutes ago?

“Well, looks like we don’t have only one oblivious idiot either,” Taehyung sighed, getting up from his seat as he slipped out from the sliding doors as you followed him out of curiosity.

“Tae! Tell me!” You whined, clinging onto his sleeve. But before you could investigate any further, Jungkook left his room, the slouching and wrinkles his forehead were evident. You were relieved that you could finally find out what he was feeling in that moment. He was stressed, probably due to the fact that you had an unexpected meltdown right in front of him. And now that you remembered the embarrassing scene, you hid behind Taehyung, squeezing yourself to fit Taehyung’s silhouette.

The two boys glanced at one another. Jungkook remained silent while Taehyung scoffed, approaching Jungkook in a split second and slapped the back of his head.

“How could you be so stupid to make her cry? Of all people, her!” Tae was close to screaming his lungs out. He stepped aside to reveal your frightened state, trembling and fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. You looked up to see Jungkook’s eyes on you, a more identifiable look in them than the black vortex that it was before. 

“I’m not resolving the problem you just caused, I’m heading downstairs to feed my anger because you two- never mind,” He huffed, flailing his arms in the air before trudging down the stairs. And once the silence welcomed you with open arms, you realized that Taehyung was no more there to hide you behind him anymore.

—————

Jungkook stood at his door frame, glancing towards you every now and then. As you did the same. You were planning on what to say to him, to explain to him and put him in your shoes - the unbearable pain in your chest and that seeing him in an unidentifiable state frightened you. After the thorough planning, you spoke. Just when he did to.

“(Y/N) I’m sorry,”

“I’m sorry, Jungkook,”

You stared into each other’s eyes, the words disappearing into the ether, along with the tension. In an instant, a smile tugged at his lips as you giggled at the coincidental moment. He walked towards you with a new-found confidence but the timidness still lingered. Grabbing a hold of your wrist, he pulled you towards him gently, embracing you tightly.

“Seeing you cry like that… Is ugly,”

“Kookie, that’s not how you comfort a girl,”

“Well, aren’t you impatient? You didn’t even let me finish. For the fact that I made you cry that hard, is an unforgivable mistake. It’s ok if you won’t forgive me, because I won’t either. Thinking about it pains my heart so much and I shouldn’t have let my anger take over me….I was just so frustrated for some reason… When you seemed so happy with Jimin-hyung, with the brightest smile on your face, I was… Jealous,”

At this moment, you shot your head up, facing him with the most confused and surprised expression. He was jealous? About Jimin? He was an idiot to believe that you seemed happier with him when most of your cherished memories had Jungkook in it. But did he mean that he wanted to be more than friends?

“What do you mean?”

“You know damn well what I mean, (Y/N),” He chuckled, wiping the stray hairs away from your face so that he could have a better look at you.

His heart skipped a beat at the mere sight of you. Even if you wore the most comfiest clothing in the world, it would bring butterflies in his stomach and turn his hands clammy. He had fallen so madly in love you.

“I like you, (Y/N). Not only for your company, your best hugs, or your amazing cooking,” He chuckled sheepishly. The boy was dying under the pressure of awaiting your answer, the tirade of questions filling his mind. 

“I-I like you too, more than friends. Definitely more than best friends,” You breathed, your fingers holding tight onto his sweater like you were about to fall at any moment. It was no surprise, because the way Jungkook looked into your eyes with the brightest twinkle in them and with the widest smile, it made your knees weak.

“I guess I finally found my Tracer to my Widowmaker.” He chuckled, leaning his forehead onto yours, your lips now inches apart. The tiny distance tempted you as you pulled him by the collar, your lips colliding, melting into the kiss. It was warm and calming, the past disastrous events being forgotten in a split second and for once, the world seemed perfect. Once the both of you broke away, with a tiny gasp for air, a shy smile adorned your face as you nuzzled into his chest. 

“Never knew the day would come when you would be this fatally cute. And that I’m your victim of it, not anyone else,” He chuckled, tightening his grasp around you as if you would leave him once more.

“And I never knew that you suck at pick up lines. 'Tracer to your Widowmaker’? C'mon Kookie, where’s the guy who’s infamous for being a heartbreaker?” You slowly looked up towards him, this new stage of your relationship didn’t seem so overwhelming.

Sure, there were more skinship between you two but other than that, the aspects from your friendship remained the same. Others would say that your relationship wouldn’t last, that the spark between you two were dwindling. But they don’t realize that a 'spark’ wasn’t needed for you to feel loved and neither did Jungkook. You both were content with binging video games and movies, and the crave for a heart-racing moment just didn’t seem that necessary. 

[lastbluetardis]

And Baby Makes Three (3/6)

*Peeks out from under the cone of silence science* I finished my paper, y’all! So as a treat to myself for finishing this a whole 26 hours before it’s due, I decided to post the next installment to this a day early! 

And many thanks to @chocolatequeennk for helping me smooth out this chapter and giving me so many wonderful suggestions and ideas!

Ten x Rose, Soulmates AU, pregnancy/baby!fic

Teen

With the decision to try for a baby made, James and Rose eagerly look forward to this newest chapter of their lives.

AO3 | TSP | FF | Ch1 | Ch2 | Ch3 | Ch4 | Ch5 | Ch6 | Epilogue

Violet. Daisy. Lily. Ivy.

Rose glanced at her arm, as she waited for her lunch to heat up in the microwave.

“I think you’ve got a theme going,” she teased. “And those names are lovely, but I don’t want to be That Family where all the girls have flower names.”

Hmm, I see your point. It’d be cute though… I could call you both my little Bouquet. And we could keep adding to it?

Rose snorted and shook her head at her daft soulmate. “How about we focus on this one first, then we can talk about more, yeah?”

Just putting it on your radar.

“Consider it pinged,” she replied. “Why is it so difficult to pick a name?”

She sighed and rested her hand on her swollen belly. At seven months, their little girl didn’t have a name yet, and she was worried they’d still be debating names in the delivery room.

Because she’s going to be our perfect little girl, and she’ll need the most perfect name. We’ll get there, love. And in a pinch, we could just name her The Baby.

“No, ta,” Rose wrote, rolling her eyes.

Okay, gotta run. See you after lab. Love you.

“Love you.”

Rose sighed as she pocketed her pen and retrieved her bowl of soup from the microwave. She had no idea how James was managing to stay so calm; she felt on the verge of a breakdown every time she made a list in her head of everything they still needed for their baby, and the list seemed to grow longer and more daunting with every passing day.

The nursery was hardly stocked, nor was is painted, and Rose feared that if it didn’t get painted within the next couple of weeks, the paint fumes would still be lingering in the air when they brought their little girl home and it would irritate her lungs and she’d get sick and they’d have to take her into the hospital, but how could they check her in when she didn’t even have a name?

“Rose? Rose, are you all right?”

She jumped when she felt a hand rest on her shoulder, and only then was she aware of the tight pressure in her chest and the dark spots in her vision.

“Fine,” she lied, concentrating more than she should have to in order to take deep, steady breaths. “Just getting jittery thinking of all the baby stuff James and I still need.”

“Aww, I remember going through that,” her supervisor said sympathetically. “But you haven’t even had your baby shower yet. Trust me, baby showers are a godsend; your nursery will be overflowing with supplies by the end of it.”

Rose smiled weakly, and used that knowledge to comfort herself. She just had to trust in herself and James that they would manage to have everything together for when their daughter arrived in December.

oOoOo

“What’s this?” Jackie asked, scrolling through the email James just sent her.

“The guest list,” James said, confused. “Did it not go through properly?”

“It did, but there are men on this list,” Jackie said. “A baby shower is a girls’ day.”

“No, a baby shower is a party to celebrate the baby,” James said impatiently. “It’s a day to be with friends and family so Rose and I can celebrate the impending arrival of our daughter. I don’t think the baby particularly cares if there are men at the shower.”

“But it’s tradition to—”

“Yeah, maybe back in your day,” James snorted, and Rose frowned at him and mouthed ‘rude’.

“Oi! What’s that supposed to mean?” Jackie shrieked.

Rose sighed and took James’s phone from him, and said, “Mum, James and I want a small get-together with our closest friends and family. Men and women both.”

“Men don’t find baby showers very interesting,” Jackie warned. “There’s lots of cooing at baby clothes and birthing stories and—”

“If anyone starts sharing birthing stories, I’ll kick them out of the house myself,” Rose snapped. “I’m nervous enough to push a human being out of my body, I don’t want to hear everyone else’s woes about it.”

“You’ll do brilliantly, love,” James murmured, resting his hand on her thigh.

“You asked for a guest list, and that’s who we want at the shower,” Rose said, her tone leaving no room for arguing. “It’s our shower, and we will invite whoever we want. Respect our decision, or consider yourself uninvited.”

Rose angrily pressed her finger to the red phone icon and set his mobile on the coffee table.

“Blimey, and you call me rude,” James teased, wrapping his arm around Rose.

“She makes me so frustrated sometimes,” Rose growled. “It’s like she always knows better than me!”

“She’s just trying to help,” James soothed.

“She can help by sodding off and letting me actually have control over my life and my family,” she muttered, leaning into James’s chest.

The following morning, Rose awoke to a text from her mother.

I was out of line yesterday. Let me take you to lunch as an apology?

Rose sighed and rubbed her temples. She was still irritated with her mum, but she knew she should let Jackie apologize.

“All right, love?” James mumbled, rolling close to her and draping a leg across hers.

“Mum wants to take me to lunch,” Rose said. “Apologize for yesterday.”

“That’s nice of her,” he said, nuzzling sleepily into her neck.

Rose frowned at the top of his head.

“Did you put her up to this?”

“Hmm? What? Why d’you say that?”

“Because you’re always giving my mum a tongue-lashing whenever she upsets me,” Rose said.

“True,” James allowed. “But no. Not this time. Was about to, when I woke up, but she beat me to it. Let her apologize, love. It’s nice of her to realize she upset you and want to make it up to you.”

Rose grumbled, and grabbed her phone and reluctantly agreed to meet her mum at her favorite Chinese place in town.

oOoOo

James was helping Jackie and her mate Bev hang the personalized banner they’d bought, and beamed when the words Welcome Baby Girl Tyler-McCrimmon hung proudly over the mantel. But the sound of a hitched breath and then a sob made a cold weight settle in his stomach.

He jumped down off of his chair when he saw his wife run out of the room, and he jogged after her.

“Hey, hey, hey, what’s the matter?” he asked, following her into what would be their baby’s nursery. “Is everything all right? Are you feeling all right?”

“Baby Girl Tyler-McCrimmon!” she managed to hiccup.

“Yeah?” he said, furrowing his brow in confusion.

“Baby Girl!” she sobbed. “I don’t want to call her Baby Girl! I want her to have a name!”

James gawped at Rose, speechless. He stepped up to his wife and carefully pulled her into his arms.

“Rose, love, relax,” he whispered, rubbing his hand across her back.

“How can I relax when we’re so unprepared?” Rose shouted, pushing away from James. She spun around the room, gesturing to the most empty-space. “We have nothing! No crib, no changing table, no rocking chair! Hardly any clothes or nappies! No car seat! We can’t bring her home without a car seat! We haven’t painted the room yet! We… we… we…”

Rose gasped in shuddering breaths as her face crumpled once more, and James helplessly wrapped her in another embrace as he tried to figure out what he could do or say to make her feel better.

“How are we doing in here?”

Jackie walked into the room, and Rose sobbed even harder when she saw her mum.

“Oh, hush now, sweetheart,” Jackie said gently, tugging Rose in for a hug. “You’re okay. Everything’s gonna be okay.”

“It’s not!” she moaned miserably. “What was I thinking, thinking I was ready for a baby? I can’t do this! I shouldn’t’ve done this!”

James’s heart fell into his stomach, and he felt a surge of anger at Rose for even suggesting that their daughter was a mistake.

“Don’t you say that, Rose Tyler-McCrimmon,” Jackie said firmly, grabbing Rose by the shoulders to look at her. “You and James are going to be the best parents there are. Don’t focus on the things you don’t have for her yet. Those are material things you and himself can buy online later tonight once you see what your friends have brought you. But none of that stuff matters. What matters is you and James love this baby more than anything. You love her so much that you’re crying over not having the walls painted for her when—as it was rudely pointed out to me—she’s not going to care about colors.”

James smirked at his mother-in-law overtop of Rose’s head, and he felt a rush of gratitude for Jackie in this moment for helping them put it into perspective.

“You have a safe and loving home for your baby, and that’s really the most important part,” Jackie said, reaching out to wipe away Rose’s tears. “You hear me?”

Rose nodded and sniffled, and she leaned back into her mum’s arms. Jackie pressed a kiss to Rose’s forehead and said, “Take a minute, get yourself together. I think I heard the doorbell. Either it’s an early arrival or the catering.”

As she left, James carefully stepped up to his wife and rubbed her back.

“All right, love?”

“Yeah,” she murmured, wiping at her eyes. “Sorry ‘bout that.”

“Your hormones are a bit out of whack,” James said, tugging a tissue out of his pocket for her. “Just… Please don’t ever say anything that implies you regret our baby ever again.”

Rose’s eyes watered again and she dropped her hand to cup her belly.

“I’m sorry,” she whimpered, her face crumpling again. “I didn’t mean that! I don’t regret her… not at all! I just got so scared! What kind of mum am I gonna be if I—?”

“The best mum,” James interrupted firmly, covering Rose’s hand with his. “Listen carefully because this is going to be the only time I say this… But your mother was right.”

He pulled an exaggerated grimace, and was pleased when it got the reaction he’d hoped for: Rose burst into a fit of giggles.

“The important thing is that we love our baby unconditionally and eternally, for the rest of our lives,” he said. “Everything else is just details. And no matter what, we’re in this together.”

Rose smiled up at him, and she lifted her arms to wrap around his neck. He held her tight for just a moment before he pressed a kiss to her hair.

“Go rinse your face with cool water, and touch up your makeup if you want,” he suggested, ushering her across the hall to their bedroom. “I’ll start welcoming the guests.”

The doorbell rang just as he exited the nursery, and he jogged to the front door to open it.

“Hi, Dad,” he said, relieved to see his father after the morning he’d just had.

“Hey, mate. Good to see you!” Robert walked into the house carrying a large, wrapped box, which James took from him to set in the living room next to the growing pile of gifts.

“Still haven’t decided on a name, yet, eh?” Robert asked, nodding to the banner above the mantel.

James grimaced. “Ugh. Don’t say that too loudly.”

“Why, what’s wrong?” Robert asked.

“Rose got a little overwhelmed when she realized how much stuff we don’t have yet for the baby, including a name,” James said.

“It’ll come to you,” Robert assured.

“Been trying for nearly five months now, and we still haven’t narrowed it down,” James said, frustrated. “It’s just… nothing seems good enough, y’know?”

“James, I promise you, you’ll love whatever name you give her, because it belongs to your little girl. It becomes part of her, and you can’t help but love it,” Robert said, rubbing a hand soothingly down James’s arm.

James smiled at his dad, mollified, and then he made a round through the room to welcome everyone to their new home and thank them for coming to celebrate with them.

Being around friends and family seemed to help Rose’s mood improve, and as the party wore on and they played a bunch of ridiculously cliché games and ate the food her mum had ordered, James was glad to see Rose’s smile become more and more genuine.

Part way through the shower, he spotted Rose talking softly with his dad in kitchen, and they both had their hands on her belly. Seeing his wife and his dad together brought such warmth to his heart, but he sighed and closed his eyes, sparing a quiet moment for his mum as he wished yet again that she could be there celebrating with them.

“All right?” Rose had asked, seeing him standing at the doorway quietly.

“’Course,” he said, walking up to the kitchen island to get another plateful of nibbles. “Just wish Mum were here, is all.”

“She’d be so proud of you, you know,” Robert said. “The both of you.”

“I know,” James murmured. “Anyways… ready to open gifts?”

He filled up a plate with food enough for the both of them before he ushered her back into the living room. Jackie and Robert traded duties of handing them gifts, and they were both delighted and thankful that so many of their friends and family were helping them get ready for their little girl.

“How are you feeling?” James asked as they lounged on the sofa that night. He had his laptop open and they were ticking items off the baby registry as they organized the pile of gifts their friends and family had bought for their daughter.

“Loads better than this morning,” she said sheepishly, feeling slightly embarrassed over her complete breakdown.

“Good,” he said, pressing a kiss to her temple. “See, look at everything we have now. Not too bad, if I say so myself. We can go out this weekend, if you want? Get some more stuff? Ooh, or we could look at paint? Figure out how we want to decorate the nursery? Then once that’s done, we can get furniture that’ll match?”

“Painting sounds nice,” Rose said, stifling a yawn against his shoulder. “I’ve sketched a few ideas for her room. I’ll show you this week, then we can decide on a palette?”

“Perfect.”

That was how the next weekend found them wearing old clothes and slowly transforming the walls of the nursery from off-white to soft lavender. Rose showed off her artistic prowess by painting a flowing, flowering tree across the wall overlooking the crib, and James watched in awe as she used shades of gray for the bark and the branches, and hues of white and silver for the flower buds.

“Our daughter is the luckiest girl in the universe to have a mummy like you to make her such a beautiful room,” James murmured when Rose set down her paintbrushes.

She beamed at him, and then turned back around to admire her handiwork. James rested his chin on her shoulder and wrapped his arms around her waist to hug her tightly, feeling so proud of his wife and so eager for their daughter to arrive.

Now that the walls were done, it was a simple matter of finding furniture. They decided on white for the crib, changing table, and rocking chair—a splash of light against the dark hardwood floors—and the cushions decorating the furniture were light purple, a perfect complement to the walls they’d painted.

“All that’s missing is a baby to put in this room,” James joked as he sat on the floor while Rose sat in the rocking chair, each of them working on their second slice of pizza.

“Nine more weeks,” she said wistfully, rubbing at her belly as their daughter kicked and squirmed. “I can’t wait.”

oOoOo

Bridget.

“Elena.”

Charlotte.

“Nicole.”

Amelia.

“Ava.”

We’re never going to decide, are we?

James sighed and scrubbed his hands across his face. With seven weeks to go until their daughter’s due date, the only thing they had yet to prepare for her was her name.

“We will, love,” he promised, hoping he was right. His dad’s words—that they would love whatever name they decided on—were still fresh in his mind, and he was holding on to that hope.

Doesn’t feel like it. Is it my suggestions? Are my name choices all atrocious and you’re just too bloody nice to me to say anything?

“No, love, that’s not it at all!” James said. “I’m just… this feels like such an important decision, y’know? I want to make sure we’ve covered all of our bases. And anyways, I’ve been keeping track of the names I particularly liked. Got a journal of potentials in my bedside table.”

You do?

“Yup. Every time you’ve suggested a name I liked, I wrote it down, along with the names I liked. Maybe we can go through that tonight? See if we can’t begin to narrow it down?”

Yeah, I’d like that. Thanks, James.

“Of course. I promise, we won’t be carrying an unnamed baby home from the hospital. She’ll have a name, and we’ll love it so much because it’s our daughter’s, and we love her so much already.”

Yeah, you’re right. That’s a good way to think about it.

“I can’t take credit for that one,” he admitted. “Dad told me that before your baby shower.”

Ahh, I should’ve known that’s something he would say. He’s so good at that. At giving advice and keeping us calm, y’know.

“Yeah, he is,” James said, and the anxiety that had been gradually building for the last month or so swelled through him again. He was going to be a father to a little human he made with Rose, and it was his job to keep her safe, and happy, and loved, but oh, there were so many ways he could muck it all up. “Do you think…”

Think what, love?

“Do you think I’ll be any good at that?” he asked. “At giving our daughter advice and making her feel better after she has a chat with me?”

Of course! And I’m not just saying that to make you feel better. You are so much like your dad in that regard. Every word that comes out of your mouth brings me so much comfort, because it’s spoken by someone who loves me so much. And yeah, sometimes I know you’re full of shit, but that’s okay because you’re trying and I love you for it. So yeah. You have nothing to worry about, love. You are going to be the best dad ever.

James exhaled raggedly in relief, trying his hardest to believe his wife, and hoping that she was right.

“Thanks, Rose. Love you. I’m heading home in a minute. Need me to pick anything up while I’m out?”

Pizza?

James chuckled. Rose had been craving pizza for the last month or so, to the point where he was on first-name basis with most of the pizzeria staff in town. They were all excited for the arrival of his daughter too, once they realized he was buying pizza on a regular basis for his pregnant wife.

“As my lovely wife wishes,” he said. “See you soon.”

Thirty minutes later, he was settled on the couch beside Rose, each of them with a plate of pizza. James opened up the journal and together they started reading through the names he’d scrawled through the pages over the months.

By the time the first yawn overtook Rose, they’d narrowed it down to about a dozen names.

“We’ve made quite a bit of progress tonight,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her hair as he closed the book and set it on the coffee table beside the pizza box. “Let’s sleep on it and come back to it tomorrow?”

Rose nodded, and grunted as she lifted herself to her feet.

“Blimey, I’m not sure how I can get much bigger than this,” she grumbled, pressing her hands to her lower back where an ever-present ache had taken up residence.

“Your body will accommodate it.” James shrugged. “You’re still the most beautiful woman in the solar system.”

“Just the solar system, eh?” Rose teased with a tongue-touched smile.

“Yeah, sorry, got a girl the next galaxy over who’s got you beat by a hair,” he murmured, walking up to her and resting his hands on her hips.

“Shame,” she whispered, looping her arms around his neck. “Who is this girl who’s stolen my husband’s attentions?”

“No one you know. Descended from tree-folk. Bark for skin. Vines for hair and fingers. Very sexy.”

To his surprise, Rose averted her gaze and bit her lip.

“I know we’ve not… But you don’t… Are you… Because I’m not interested in sex?”

James gaped down at his wife, his teasing suddenly forgotten at the very real vulnerability he heard in her voice.

“What? No! God, no! Rose, look at me.” He placed his fingers under her chin and tilted her head up until he could look into her eyes. “You are the sexiest woman in the universe.”

“Not just the solar system?” she laughed weakly.

“Nope, the entire universe,” he said firmly. “Not much into tree-folk, honestly. Too many splinters. You, on the other hand. You’re so soft and warm and are my favorite human being ever. I don’t mind that we haven’t made love recently. It’s okay. I can’t imagine how uncomfortable you must be, caring for our daughter and keeping her so safe and healthy. I can’t possibly thank you enough.”

Rose gave him a small smile and leaned into his chest for a hug. He wrapped his arms tightly around her, hoping to squeeze away any insecurities.

“Sorry,” she chuckled. “Being daft.”

“Just a bit,” he said, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head. “But it’s all right. You are the love of my life. Never doubt that.”

“I don’t,” she assured. “As I said… just being a bit daft. C’mon. Let’s go to bed.”

The next morning, Rose awoke before James, as was becoming the norm. She was up every few hours, either because she needed to pee, or because their daughter was dancing around inside of her. This time, it was both.

She grunted as she pushed herself up and out of bed, trying to be as quiet as possible to keep from waking James. When she came back into their room, relieved and refreshed, she was happy to see him still asleep.

She crawled back into bed and lay down beside her husband. He stirred and rolled onto his back, and his eyes cracked open slightly. He smiled at her, and mumbled something that she thought was an “I love you”, before he rolled away from her and hugged their duvet to his chest. He twisted his hips so one of his legs was draped across her shins, and Rose envied him the flexibility, and the ability to find comfort even in the most contorted position.

She was too alert and their baby was too active for her to go back to sleep, but she’d found a comfortable enough position that she didn’t want to start her day yet. So she grabbed her phone and started mindlessly flicking through her apps as she rubbed her stomach every time the baby kicked or elbowed her. She checked the weather and the news, and then opened her email to take a look at the journal articles her supervisor had sent her to peruse at her leisure.

She skimmed through the articles on new and upcoming photography techniques, and she was about to close out of her phone in favor of a cuddle with her husband when the author’s name caught her eye. C.S. Ainsley.

Ainsley.

Rose rolled the name around in her head and found that she really liked it. Now, to see if James would be in agreement…

She reached across James for the journal of baby names he’d set on his bedside table last night to add ‘Ainsley’ to the finalized list of potential names.

“Oops, sorry love,” she whispered when he woke up again from her moving around. “Go back to sleep.”

“M’kay,” he murmured, rolling over to face her again. He nuzzled up against her and tossed his leg across hers as he let his eyes flutter shut.

She could tell he wasn’t completely asleep though, but he was completely relaxed. She mindlessly petted his hair as she opened up the journal to the page they’d ended at last night and scribbled down the name.

“What’ve you got there?” he mumbled, rubbing his fists across his eyes as he arched his back in a lying-down stretch. He opened his eyes and saw the book in her hands. “Narrow it down further for us?”

“Added a new name,” she admitted, and James sat up and stuffed a pillow behind his back to mirror her position.

“And what name is that?” he asked, scanning down the list of names they’d come up with as final contenders.

“I-I saw it in an article I was reading this morning,” she said, chewing her lip as she watched his face.

“Ainsley,” he murmured, and Rose felt hopeful at the tenderness in his voice as he seemed to cradle the name on his tongue. “Ainsley. Aaaainsley. Ainsley Tyler-McCrimmon.”

“D’you like it?” she asked excitedly.

“Yeah, I do,” he said, resting his head on her shoulder. “I really do. Ainsley.”

He rubbed his hand across her belly, tickling his fingers around her belly button before moving down to cradle the skin over her uterus in his palm.

“Our little Ainsley,” he murmured. “What do you think? Is this the one? The name we’ve been looking for all these months?”

“Yeah,” she whispered, and she twined her fingers through his hair to coax his head back for a kiss. “Yeah, I think it is.”