#this one took longer than usual because 1) i've had a WEEK

[sophsbookstore]

Floral Encounters

Charles Leclerc x Florist!reader ｡･:*˚:✧｡

Masterlist can be found in navigation!

Word count: 1340

A/N: lmaoooo i've been gone for a really..really long time…but guys we are so back! New year, new fanfics that need to be written. Requests are still very much open if you have anything you wanna see, sorry for the absence and happy reading!! <33

The little flower shop nestled on a quiet street in Monaco was a peaceful haven among the hustle and bustle of the city. Inside, the soft scent of roses and lilies mixed with the gentle hum of classical music playing from an old speaker in the corner. The owner, Y/N, was behind the counter, arranging the last few bouquets of the day. She loved her shop, the routine of it, the way it allowed her to be surrounded by beauty every day. But most of all, she loved the chance encounters—those small moments where someone new would come in, buying flowers for loved ones, or sometimes for no reason at all.

It was a Tuesday afternoon when he first walked in.

Charles Leclerc.

He had been a familiar face on the streets of Monaco for years, though Y/N had never had the chance to meet him. She had seen him in passing at a café or two, but nothing that could spark a conversation. She couldn’t say she was a huge fan of Formula 1, but she knew enough to recognize the man who had become a hero to so many in the city.

He stepped into the shop, the doorbell chiming as it swung open, and for a moment, Y/N was taken aback. She quickly composed herself and flashed him a friendly smile.

“Hello, can I help you with anything?” Y/N asked the man in front of her

Charles paused for a second, as if processing her presence. His green eyes flicked over the shelves filled with flowers, before landing on her. His lips curved upward in a small, charming smile.

“I need a bouquet,” he said, his accent thick but easy to understand. “Something... for my mother.”

Y/N nodded, stepping forward to guide him. “We have a variety of roses, peonies, maybe some tulips... what’s the occasion?”

He scratched the back of his neck, clearly trying to find the right words. “No real occasion. I just wanted to do something nice for her.”

The simplicity of it made Y/N’s heart flutter a little. He wasn’t here for a birthday or an anniversary. Just because. That kind of thoughtfulness was rare. She tilted her head slightly, studying him for a second before offering a suggestion.

“Well, if you’re looking for something elegant, I’d recommend a mix of white roses and lilies. They’re classic, timeless.”

Charles raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching as if he was amused by the suggestion. “Timeless, huh? I like the sound of that.”

Y/N gave a small laugh and picked out a few stems, expertly arranging them in a hand-tied bouquet. “The lilies symbolize purity, and the roses... well, they symbolize admiration and love. Perfect for a mother, don’t you think?”

He leaned against the counter, watching her work with an intensity that made her feel a little warmer than usual. “Sounds like you know your flowers,” he said with a grin.

“I’ve been doing this for a while,” Y/N replied, her fingers moving with practiced precision as she wrapped the bouquet in parchment paper. “You get to learn a lot when you’re surrounded by them every day.”

When she was finished, she handed him the bouquet. “Here you go. I hope she loves it.”

Charles took the bouquet, his fingers brushing against hers for a moment, sending a small jolt through her. He didn’t pull away right away. Instead, he looked down at the flowers, his expression softening.

“I’m sure she will,” he said quietly. Then, as if thinking of something, he added with a teasing smirk, “You’ve made this a bit hard to top. Do you take requests?”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “What do you have in mind?”

“I might need you to help me with another bouquet next week,” he said, his gaze lingering on hers just a little longer than necessary. “But... this time, it might be for someone special.”

Y/N grinned, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks. “I’d be happy to help,” she said, her voice lighter now, more playful. “Maybe I’ll even throw in a little extra flair for someone special.”

Charles gave her a wink and turned toward the door. “I’ll hold you to that,” he said with a laugh before leaving the shop, the bell above the door ringing again.

The days turned into weeks, and Charles kept his word. Every time he raced in Monaco or elsewhere, he would come into the shop, often with a similar request. Sometimes it was for his mother, sometimes for a friend, and sometimes, he hinted that it was for someone else entirely.

After a particularly thrilling race where he finished second, Charles returned to the shop, his eyes practically glowing with excitement. He was still wearing his racing gear, and Y/N couldn’t help but notice how different he looked outside the car—his intense, competitive energy replaced with something a little more... relaxed.

“Back for more flowers?” Y/N asked as he entered, a knowing smile playing on her lips.

He nodded, though there was a certain hesitation in his usual confident stance. “Yes, but this time, I’m celebrating something special.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, walking over to him. “Oh? What are you celebrating?”

Charles paused, glancing around the shop as if to gather his thoughts. Then, his gaze landed on hers, and a flicker of something unspoken passed between them.

“I’m celebrating getting to see you again,” he said, his voice low and sincere.

Her heart skipped a beat. It wasn’t the first time he’d said something like that, but hearing it now, in such a direct way, made it feel like something new.

Y/N smiled, feeling a flutter of excitement in her chest. “Well, that’s a good reason to celebrate.”

He grinned, stepping closer to the counter. “I think so.” He leaned in just a little, lowering his voice. “What do you think? Another bouquet, just to make it official?”

Y/N considered him for a moment, her fingers brushing against a vase of lilies nearby. “I think you’re getting pretty good at this... but how about we make it even more official?”

Charles raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “What do you mean?”

Her smile widened, and she set down the flowers she was holding. “How about you let me buy you dinner?”

He blinked in surprise, clearly taken aback for a second. Then, the corner of his mouth lifted into a grin. “You’re asking me out?”

“Is that so hard to believe?” Y/N teased, her eyes dancing with mischief.

Charles chuckled softly, his eyes not leaving hers. “Not at all.” He leaned forward just a bit more, his voice quieter. “I’d love to have dinner with you.”

Y/N’s heart raced, but she didn’t let the excitement show too much. “It’s a date, then,” she said with a wink.

The dinner was set for a few days later, at a small, intimate restaurant by the harbor. Charles showed up in a simple button-up shirt and jeans, looking effortlessly handsome. They shared stories over a bottle of wine, laughing at each other's jokes and enjoying the easy, warm atmosphere between them. The night ended with a stroll along the water, hand in hand, both of them silently agreeing that it was the beginning of something new.

Charles looked at Y/N, his expression soft. “You know, I’ve been to Monaco many times, but I think this is the first time I’ve really felt like I’m home.”

Y/N smiled, squeezing his hand gently. “Well, I’m glad I could be a part of that.”

“I think you’re going to be part of a lot of things in my life,” he said, his voice sincere.

She couldn’t help but smile at the thought, her heart full. “I’m looking forward to it, Charles. I really am.”

And as the stars twinkled overhead, they both knew that this was just the beginning.

[partystoragechest]

A story of romance, drama, and politics which neither Trevelyan nor Cullen wish to be in.

Canon divergent fic in which Josephine solves the matter of post-Wicked Hearts attention by inviting four noblewomen to compete for Cullen's affections. In this chapter, Trevelyan tries to set the Commander up with Lady Samient.

(Masterpost. Beginning. Previous entry. Next entry. Words: 2,893. Rating: all audiences.)

Chapter 15: Lady Samient's Gambit

Dorian was all too eager to assist with the plan.

Trevelyan had assumed she might owe him some great debt afterwards. No. He agreed to it, no questions asked. He would tell the Commander to meet for a chess match in the morning, and was quite glad to not actually have to show up.

His only request? “I want to know what happens.”

Well, at least he was entertained.

With his guarantee of the Commander’s presence, Trevelyan sought out the Ladies. She interrupted morning tea to tell them, “Our scheme can commence!”

Together, they headed for the garden, to lay their scene out perfectly. Lady Erridge would sit at the little tea table, an eager hopeful introduced to the wondrous world of chess. Lady Samient would be opposite, passing the time by instructing Erridge—and thereby showcasing her own talents. Lady Trevelyan would act as scout, and scour their surroundings for any sign of a fur-caped man.

But as the Commander was nowhere to be seen as of yet—for they had made certain to be early—she had time to watch the Ladies’ game.

“Knights-Templar move like this,” Samient taught Erridge, who apparently did not even know how the pieces could behave. Indeed, she had confessed that when she played with her Lady Orroat, the pieces had moved ‘simply as they wished’.

“They can jump?” Erridge asked.

“Over cavalry. Not over anything of higher authority.”

“That makes sense, I suppose. You would not wish Templars to be leaping over empresses!”

Speaking of which—Trevelyan glanced up, and checked their surroundings.

No sign of the Commander yet.

“How did you learn to play, Lady Samient?” Erridge asked, as they reset the board. “You had the best tutors, I expect.”

Samient scoffed. “My tutors were fools—both in manner and education. My father sent them away and taught me most of what I know himself. Except chess. That I was taught only a year or so ago, by one of our staff. He was better at the game than every tutor I ever had.”

Trevelyan noted the barest hint of a smile on Lady Samient’s face—though it was unlike her usual smirk of amusement. It was quite genuine.

“‘Was’?” repeated Trevelyan.

Samient’s smile dropped, and then morphed into a noblewoman’s laugh, all within a second. “He’s alive, I believe. But no longer working in our stables.”

Oh. “Oh.”

“Anyway. Lady Erridge, I shall teach you some opening moves.”

First, it seemed, was the ‘forward march’. Trevelyan had learnt that one herself in the Circle. Basic start, good for children, easy to memorise—though it was even easier to counter.

Erridge might have learnt just how, were she paying any attention to the board. But her eyes were off in another direction entirely.

“Ladies,” she whispered excitedly, “he’s here!”

Trevelyan had made a terrible scout. For she looked up on Erridge’s exclamation, and saw the Commander heading towards them.

Not entirely purposefully, of course. Had he actually seen them there, then he would have likely turned tail and run already. No, quite fortunately, the Commander was not one to waste a second of time he could be working, and spent his walk with his face buried in a report.

Trevelyan gestured for the Ladies to continue their game, and straightened herself. Though she had failed her responsibility to spot him, she would not fail in her responsibility to keep him there.

The Commander finally looked up. Poor thing, he was like a deer caught in a hunter’s sights. His look of surprise and confusion had Trevelyan feeling a little guilty, that she had allowed the Ladies to breach what seemed to be one of his few (or only) recreations—but she quashed it down, for now.

“Commander!” she called, beckoning him the last few steps. “What brings you here?”

His face resolved a little when she spoke. “I, ah, had come to play with Dorian… but, if he’s not here, and you’re using…”

Lady Erridge cut him off: “Oh, we can move if you like, Commander! It would be no trouble.”

“Of course,” Trevelyan agreed. “Do forgive me, Commander. Now I know the board is here, I thought the Ladies and I might play.”

“You are welcome to use it,” the Commander told her. Trevelyan laughed.

“I was not asking your permission, Commander.”

He smiled. “Naturally. You do work with Dagna, after all. Not asking permission is a preqrequisite for the position, I expect.”

She chuckled, and almost forgot herself. But, no—he was ripe for the picking. Their conversation had settled him considerably, now was the moment to ask him to stay.

Yet his eyes slipped away before she could, to glance at the other two Ladies nearby. His comfort evaporated.

“Well”—he cleared his throat—“if Dorian isn’t here, then I should be on my way. I have things to do.”

Trevelyan opened her mouth to object, but Lady Samient spoke first:

“Stay, Commander. Perhaps you could be of assistance.” She finished her move, and met his gaze. “I am teaching Lady Erridge, and Lady Trevelyan spoke very highly of your skill yesterday evening. You have some valuable input, no doubt.”

“Oh.” The Commander rubbed at the back of his neck. “I see. I suppose I could stay a few minutes.”

Lady Samient’s praise was inspired. He stepped willingly towards the table, to watch over the board. Trevelyan stood opposite.

“Where were we?” said Samient. “Ah, yes. Block my advance on the left.”

Erridge’s eyes widened. “What advance?”

Samient pointed to her chanter, which was angled to pass right through Lady Erridge’s cavalry line—to where her empress waited.

Lady Erridge gasped, and scrambled to action. Yet as soon her piece was selected, and hoisted above its fellows, some crisis of confidence shattered her. In hope of assistance, she glanced at Samient—whose impassive face lent her no aid. Erridge’s gaze fled back to the board, but must have caught sight of the Commander’s presence in her periphery. Meek, she looked to him.

Though he did not meet her eye, he nodded. Erridge moved the cavalry. Samient withdrew her chanter.

Trevelyan felt in the air a collective sigh from the soldiers of West Coldon, as their heir apparent gained her first knowledge of military strategy. The advance was halted, and all without conceding a single greater piece.

Lady Samient, of course, still won the game, but it wasn’t there for Erridge to win. Lessons sometimes required losses.

They reset the board, all the same. The Commander straightened.

“It seems you will do well enough without me,” he said. “Lady Samient, you teach well. Though, if you wish to win the next match, Lady Erridge, you ought to attack her castles early. She over-relies on them.”

Lady Samient placed down the piece she held, and looked—slowly—to the Commander. “Excuse me?”

“You asked my input.”

“For Lady Erridge, not myself. I over-relied on my castles for the sake of the lesson. Were I to play someone of your fabled calibre, Commander”—she leant toward him, eyes sharpening—“I should play quite differently.”

Lady Erridge applauded. “That sounds like a challenge to me!”

But the Commander shied away. “No, no,” he said, beginning to withdraw, “I need to return to work.”

Trevelyan stopped him with four words:

“Afraid you’ll lose, Commander?”

He halted. His shoulders rose as bravado filled and puffed out his chest; a hint of a smirk pulled at his mouth, no matter how he suppressed it. “Hardly.”

“But what could have sent you into such a retreat, except the fear that your sweet little winning streak would quite easily be annihilated? For I have seen both you and Lady Samient play, and I know whom I would expect to win.”

He did not reply, not with words. He instead returned to the table, and took the seat that Lady Erridge hurriedly vacated. His hand gestured towards the board.

“Play.”

Lady Samient smiled, all too glad to oblige.

The displaced Lady Erridge pressed herself against Trevelyan’s side, gripping her arm. “Oh, this is to be spectacular!” she whispered. “Will you tell me what is happening, so I don’t get lost?”

Trevelyan nodded. “Of course.”

The game began. As if taunting him, Lady Samient made her opening salvo the first step of the ‘forward march’. The Commander ignored it, and set up a play across the hexes.

“He is not countering her opening gambit,” Trevelyan murmured to Erridge.

“Why not?” asked Erridge.

“I am unsure. But let us be generous, and assume it is purposeful.”

Trevelyan did not know whether or not the Commander heard the comment—though he certainly did lean into the board when she said it.

Their next few turns passed by with little thrill. Lady Samient switched to a different tactic that Trevelyan did not quite recognise, and the Commander continued to prepare his own. Cavalry were taken, where they got in the others’ way. But the greatest thing of note was the capture of the Commander’s chanter.

“One down,” commented Samient.

“Yes,” replied the Commander, preparing his next advance, “one.”

Ah, witty badinage! Exactly what Trevelyan had hoped would spring forth from this encounter. The Commander had seemed to appreciate that sort of thing with her; it would make an excellent building block for the other Ladies’ relationships with him, too.

And yet the match, so struck, went out again in a flash. They returned to playing in near-silence, with the most spoken being Samient’s occasional, “Hm”. Trevelyan could quite understand silence for the sake of concentration, but concentration was not the point of this exercise.

“Interesting,” muttered Lady Samient, observing the Commander’s latest play.

He replied, at least: “So you say.”

But that was it! That was it? Maker, should another minute of this pass, Trevelyan (reluctant) resolved herself to intervene.

A minute later, she asked, “How do you find the Commander’s technique, Lady Samient?”

“Stuffy,” Samient replied. And then, instead of speaking to the Commander, she said to Trevelyan: “How do you find it, Lady Trevelyan, from where you stand?”

She huffed. “Well, I think… he relies too heavily on his castles.”

This evoked a little laugh from Samient, and a smile cracked in the concentrated exterior of the Commander. Yet it did not generate the discussion she had hoped.

Back to silence it was, then! Trevelyan described what she could to Lady Erridge, quietly, so as not to disturb the lack of conversation. Samient sacrificed a Knight-Templar to take the Commander’s other chanter. Got one of his castles, too. And from what Trevelyan could tell, she was driving his empress towards ambush.

Lady Erridge whispered, “Who is winning?”

“Lady Samient,” Trevelyan answered.

“Not yet,” the Commander replied.

Trevelyan glanced at him, and found his stare upon her; challenging her. She responded, “Is it not the mark of a good commander to know when to retreat?”

“Yes,” said he, flexing against the frame of his chair, “and when it is time for Lady Samient to do so, I will inform her.”

Lady Erridge’s grip on Trevelyan’s arm tightened. Trevelyan tore her eyes away from the Commander, to check for swooning. But Erridge’s fluttery heart appeared to be surviving. For now.

Lady Samient, meanwhile, laughed. “Worry not, Commander,” she purred, “we may play as long as you like.”

And like a fly into her web, he took that invitation.

Which was foolish, frankly. Really, Trevelyan was quite unsure that this arrogant streak was good for the Commander. Perhaps there was some possibility of salvaging this game—but with the skill of Lady Samient taken into consideration, what laid out ahead of him was a long road of attrition, leading only to defeat. He was surely competent enough to realise that. Yet some bloody-mindedness within him had him clinging on to this crumbling cliff edge with an errant kind of hope that he would pull himself back up.

Of course, Lady Samient’s trap soon sprung, and the Commander’s empress was taken. Samient’s, now free to move as it pleased, began its hunt of his other pieces. She wasn’t even going for his emperor—she was prolonging this.

And perhaps he was, too.

“What’s happening?” asked Erridge. “You look concerned.”

It was then that Trevelyan realised she was so invested, she had lapsed in her description of the match. “Oh, well—the Commander is… attempting to outpace death, I would say.”

“Oh my!”

And he yet continued—took Lady Samient’s last Knight-Templar with his own. The gambit put his in direct danger, but also in contention with Samient’s emperor, which allowed him to say:

“Check.”

“You are dogged, Commander,” Lady Samient responded, unfazed. She captured the Knight-Templar, barely looking at the board as she did. “Trying to impress?”

“No,” he replied, “trying to win.”

“You are?”

The Commander ignored this comment, for the sake of contemplating his strategy. Trevelyan did much the same. Perhaps Lady Samient had the right of it. Perhaps this determination of his was not folly, but intentional. Perhaps he did not wish to admit it, but he really was attempting to impress.

And that was why it had been a game of so few words, for the Commander communicated through action. He was not truly seeking victory; he knew this road led only to loss. But in continuing to play, he put on quite the show. This resolve, this perseverance—Trevelyan could see how one might find it quite… attractive. Especially in the relation to the pursuit of oneself.

How lovely for Lady Samient.

Movement caught her eye. The Commander had selected his champion. A steady hand slid this piece across the hexes—but the tip of his finger brushed past another. His emperor.

The feather-touch was enough to make it tremble. But it did not fall. Fortunate. Such would have been a... humiliating mode of defeat, for a man already clinging to the last shreds of his dominance. But his hand withdrew, and tensed into a fist by his side. The leather of his glove groaned.

“Check,” said Lady Samient.

The faded ambience of the garden returned, full-volume, to Trevelyan; Samient’s voice had roused her from whatever trance she had suddenly been afflicted by. Her eyes took note of the battlefield before her, and saw that Samient’s empress had indeed marched in that lost time, and was staring down the Commander’s emperor.

He had it make its escape. But Samient chased it down.

“Check,” she repeated.

The Commander moved again; a cavalryman became fodder for his defence.

Samient took it. “Check,” she told him. “How long would you like to do this for, Commander?”

He advanced, and she had her answer. Lady Samient chased him down once more.

“Check.”

“You could have had me there.”

“Yes,” said Samient, her voice turning to taunt: “but I want you to surrender.”

“Very well.”

The Commander laid his emperor down. The game was won. The audience applauded.

His hand reached across the table, to shake Lady Samient’s. “Well played,” he told her. “Lady Trevelyan spoke honestly of you.”

“And she of you. You are indeed a good tutor; I learnt a great deal from our game.”

Trevelyan ignored their compliments of her, to instead be pleased that they were, at least, speaking. And making physical contact!

“Will you stay for another, Commander?” she asked.

“Oh, please do!” seconded Erridge. “That was ever so englightening!”

But the Commander stood. “While I appreciated the game, I should return to work. Especially seeing as Dorian decided not to arrive.”

Long shot—Trevelyan was glad she’d tried regardless. “Very well; thank you for entertaining us. I do believe you played well, Commander—despite my commentary.”

He smiled. “Thank you, your Ladyship. Perhaps one day we will play.”

“Perhaps.”

“Well, I suppose I had better… ah…”

He forwent the rest of his words, and chose to bow instead. With their reciprocal curtsies concluding matters, off he went, striding across the garden.

The door shut behind him. The Ladies looked at each other.

“That was brilliant!” Erridge sang. “My, he was handsome when he put on that cocky sort of tone. Lady Trevelyan, this was a most wonderful idea.”

“Thank you, but the credit must go to Lady Samient,” said Trevelyan. “You certainly impressed him with that display, quite understandably. I think he would not object to another invitation.”

“Thank you,” Lady Samient replied, fiddling with the empress in her hand. She placed it on its hex, and began to reset. “Come, Lady Erridge. Our schemes aside, I still want to teach you.”

“Oh, how lovely!” Erridge eagerly took her seat. “I should adore to take on the Commander as you did.”

“And I’m sure you will,” Trevelyan told her. “But I shall sadly have to leave you to it; I have work to do.”

The Ladies quite understood—the Baroness was always seeing to the affairs of Val Misrenne during the day, and Lady Trevelyan’s absences were much similar. As they waved her off, she said in parting: “Oh, and my congratulations on your victory, Lady Samient!”

Lady Erridge echoed the sentiment: “Yes, yes! I was so swept up in the excitement of it, I forgot to congratulate you as well, Lady Samient. You did terribly well; a deserved win!”

“Thank you,” replied Samient, back to toying with that empress. Her mind was elsewhere, contemplating a simple fact:

She had lost.

[chishiyasleftnut]

Oh my god this took longer than I expected, I am so sorry (｡•́︿•̀｡)

As requested by a few people in the comments on PART 3, here is part 4 to the phase 2 Chishiya fic I've been working on!

It includes everything from angst to fluff to smut at the end. What's not to like? (•̀ᴗ•́ )و I hope you'll all enjoy it!

Stuck With You (part 4)

(Read part 1, part 2, and part 3 here)

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤 Genre: Smut, angst AND fluff. (look at me go)

Warnings: smut and gun violence. Includes penetration (female receiving), unprotected sex.

Pairing: Chishiya x fem!reader

Plot: After sleeping together twice, Chishiya began ignoring fem!reader, making her mad with worry. Does he hate her? Did she do someting wrong? Or perhaps something else was going on, something she had completely missed?

3349 words. 🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

The discussion of what you were never came. Out of fear of making your cramped living conditions more awkward than necessary, you decided not to push it and just live in the unknown. You didn’t need to define the relationship, you told yourself. You were soooo cool with keeping it casual and undefined.

With that mindset, you both continued your life at the camp as if nothing had happened. A part of you had expected there to be more touching but no, Chishiya’s behaviour seemingly completely reverted back to how he was before that fateful stormy night, never letting down his guard and showing even a sliver of vulnerability.

Every night you went to bed next to each other, crammed into a two-man-tent and your bodies somehow not connecting anywhere at all. Every morning you woke up to the tent empty as Chishiya would leave the shared space as soon as his eyes were open.

You rarely spoke much either, which wouldn’t have affected you if you hadn’t slept together twice. Although you had no intentions of confronting Chishiya with this, it did hurt you that he by all appearances felt as if nothing special happened - as if you were just a sex doll he could use when he needed to get off.

A part of you tried to defend Chishiya. Maybe he had little experience with romance - or even friendship? You had never seen him interact deeply with anyone before so that could be an explanation. He didn’t exactly seem like the lovey-dovey type either. Yeah, it wasn’t personal, you said to yourself to calm your anxiety. This was just how he was.

Although your little camp at the outskirts of Tokyo seemed like a perfect, isolated place right after the Beach’ end, the two of you had noticed more and more people in the vicinity of your tent over the past week. It started off with the occasional sound of rustling bushes and glimpses of people appearing far away, but lately you had had actual run-ins with strangers. To your luck, none of them were an immediate threat. Still, the camp didn’t feel safe anymore.

“Come with me,” Chishiya one day said during breakfast.

His words took you by surprise, mostly because you were embarrassingly deep into your thoughts about your relationship (or lack thereof) and had completely zoned him out. You quickly began chewing the big bite of protein bar that you seconds prior had mindlessly stuffed into your mouth so you could reply, but Chishiya continued before you had a chance to clear your mouth.

“Come on. We’re doing a supply run.”

The request was unusual, as Chishiya always did supply runs on his own. His usual reasoning was that you were too slow and that it would be safer if he could quickly be in and out of the city instead of having to wait around for you.

“I thought you liked doing that on your own?” you questioned once you had finally swallowed the lump of chocolatey protein bar.

“I do,” he said while gathering his things. “But not today. Hurry up, I don’t want to wait all day.”

You wanted to pry for an actual answer, but knew it was fruitless. Instead, you quickly finished your breakfast and picked up your bag so you could accompany him into Tokyo.

As expected, your walk to the nearest convenience store was both silent and uneventful. Even though you had a million questions running through your mind, you had no way of articulating them in a way that wouldn’t make you seem desperate. As much as you craved closure, you also didn’t want to scare him away. Hence, you decided silence was best.

When you arrived at the rundown and almost empty 7/11, Chishiya held the door open for you. As you walked in you paused in the doorway with wide eyes. Instantly, you felt bad for complaining about the type of supplies he brought back. In your mind, convenience stores were always filled to the brim with food 24/7, but it seemed as if the situation in the borderlands were way different than in normal life. This convenience store looked at if it had been raided consistently for months, the shelves nearly empty and the floor covered in broken glass.

“Is there even any food left?” you asked while staying in the door-opening, completely overwhelmed by the chaotic emptiness of it all - an oxymoron you until now had never experienced before.

Chishiya pushed past you with a gentle hand on your lower back, ushering you inside. The sudden physical contact sent goosebumps all over your body, making every single small hair on your arms and legs stand up straight. God, you had missed being touched more than you knew.

“I’m sure there’s some left. Help me look.”

Once you recovered, you assisted Chishiya in finding any food that wasn’t rotten. To protect your sensitive nose, you decided to completely avoid the open refrigerator section that in the normal world housed delicious tuna-mayo onigiris and microwave-heatable freshly made meals, all of which you knew wouldn’t have lasted even a week without spoiling.

With quiet steps, you walked up and down the aisles, looking for anything edible. The little, orange shopping basket that you were carrying slowly got filled with various types of instant noodles. Once you were very dead-set on which brands and flavours were worth eating, but you had to throw that all to the side now. The selection was limited, and it was not time to be picky.

With the basket now housing a decent selection of instant noodles in all shapes, colours, and sizes, you turned the corner and stumbled into the candy aisle where Chishiya’s eyes were expertly scanning over the sparse selection. He never brought back too much food out of fear of attracting the wildlife that had slowly taken over Tokyo together with the greenery.

You watched as his hand reached out for a pack of strawberry gummies - his favourite, as you had come to learn from the many times that he had exclusively brought back strawberry flavoured candy instead of the superior tasting grape. However, instead of grabbing the strawberry flavour, he instead picked up two packs of the remaining neighbouring grape variant, quickly putting it into his own shopping basket. As he went to walk away, presumably to find food that wasn’t just candy, he turned in your direction and caught you looking.

“Is something wrong?” he questioned with a raised eyebrow. You gestured down to the grape flavoured candy in his basket.

“I thought you liked strawberry,” you pointed out. “Why get grape?”

“I wanted to try something new,” he eventually said in a casual manner, causing you to roll your eyes out of annoyance.

“I’ve complained about the lack of grape candy for weeks and suddenly you’re willing to try it?”

Chishiya had just opened his mouth to presumably give a flippant reply, when he was interrupted by the deafening sound of gunshots from the street outside the store. Instinctively, Chishiya put an arm in front of you, using his own body to shield you from the far-away shooter. You both stood still as statues, using every sense to figure out how close you were to danger. As the gunshots came to a halt, you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“Okay, I think that- AHH!”

A loud, high-pitched scream left your mouth before you had a chance to stop it, as a much closer round of shots completely took you by surprise. Chishiya quickly pulled you with him on the floor behind the cash register, hugging your back tightly against his front and covering your mouth with his hand to keep you quiet.

“Shhh,” he hushed lowly into your ear, his warm breath tickling your skin. “Be quiet.”

The next few minutes were tense, as neither of you had any visuals of the shooter due to your sheltering behind the cash register. You therefore used the only sense available to you to find any auditory signs that would indicate the location of the shooter. Much to your dismay, you before long heard the store bell chime as the door got opened. The shrill of the bell was followed by the sound of a pair of hefty military boots crushing the many glass shards scattered on the floor.

You were shaking in Chishiya’s arm, trembling with fear as you inaudibly prayed that whoever was now in the store with you would just leave you alone. Chishiya hugged you so tightly against him that you were almost suffocating, his hand surely leaving a red imprint on your face. Despite the physical discomfort, his firm embrace also worked to ground you, calming you down and keeping you quiet.

It didn’t take long for the stranger to leave the store again, possibly disappointed by the lack of victims to shoot down. You both waited a few extra minutes just to be safe, before Chishiya finally let his hand fall away from your mouth, allowing you to take a deep breath, fully filling up your oxygen deprived lungs.

“I should never have taken you with me,” he mumbled while standing up, visibly distraught in a way you hadn’t seen before. Long gone was his usual nonchalant demeanour, his normal indifference replaced by panicky eyes and shallow breaths.

Still sitting on the floor, your shaken mind attempted to connect the many jumbled up puzzle pieces. Chishiya was scared. You had never seen him scared before, so that alone was adding to the confusion. It had gotten to the point where you didn’t even know if he cared about his life. And then it finally clicked: He wasn’t scared for his own safety; he was scared for yours.

“Wait, you asked me to join you to protect me?” you asked while he with a strong hand helped you up on your feet.

“I thought it would be safer than leaving you at the camp, but clearly it was not.” Chishiya walked back around the counter and picked up the dropped shopping baskets with food, neatly packing the content into his bag with uncharacteristically shaky hands. “The camp didn’t feel safe anymore. Too many people around. What if the wrong person saw you all alone? I couldn’t risk it.”

You were in shock, unsure of how to take that in. You had spent the past week worrying over Chishiya’s sudden indifference to you, and here he was admitting he cared? No scratch that, he didn’t just care, he was worried about you. This changed everything.

“I thought you hated me,” you stuttered out, still completely overwhelmed by this new revelation. “I thought I had done something wrong and that you hated me for it.”

“I could never hate you.”

Your eyes met in what felt like a tender embrace, Chishiya’s deep brown orbs showing softness and sincerity in a way you had never could have imagined. He meant it, you were absolutely sure of it.

Calmed by his newfound gentleness, you slowly helped him pack up the supplies gathered from the convenience store, your mind gradually making sense of the past week. You were pulled back to reality when your hands picked up the little plastic bag of grape flavoured candy.

“You got these for me, didn’t you?” you asked, feeling the final puzzle piece clicking into place.

“I did. I should have gotten them earlier.”

“You should have,” you declared amusedly, suddenly finding humour in his previous stubbornness. “I’ve been begging for a while, you know.”

Your remark made Chishiya smile, but for once it didn’t seem like he was laughing at your expense. Instead, he seemed fondly entertained by you, a dynamic switch you hadn’t seen coming.

Together, you walked back to the camp. The walk was silent, but this time it wasn’t an awkward silence. Instead, you both enjoyed the other’s company, using the quiet time to mentally and physically decompress from the intense past 30 minutes you had shared. Eventually you reached the camp again, flopping down in front of the unlit fireplace and immediately going in on the treasured grape candy. Chishiya didn’t comment on it, but just observed how you practically swallowed one purple gummy after the other.

As day turned to night, you both climbed back into the tent with your bellies full of a variety of instant noodles, ready for the best sleep of your life after an emotionally exhausting day. You followed Chishiya, as he laid down on the sleeping mat, sighing when you finally allowed yourself to feel the body aches that were a near constant lately. Chishiya noticed your little sigh, and gently pulled you in closer to him in an attempt to soothe you.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper.

“Yeah. Just tired,” you replied, matching his low tone. It felt like the right volume to speak at in the darkness of the tent.

Chishiya ran his hand up and down your arm, attempting to lull you to sleep. It was tempting to allow yourself to drift off, and yet you stayed awake, not wanting to miss out on this side of Chishiya. 

“I haven’t done this before,” Chishiya finally said, turning his head to look at you. His words confused you.

“We’ve cuddled before.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean?” you asked, the confusion apparent in your voice.

Chishiya gestured broadly to the two of you. “This.”

You hummed in acknowledgment, finally understanding his vague remark. You had been right in assuming that he had little experience with anything deeper than sex.

“Do you like it?” you finally asked, holding your breath as you awaited the answer.

Chishiya took his sweet time to reply, leaving you suddenly feeling worried that you had somehow managed to completely misinterpret everything that had happened that day. Luckily, he eventually opened his mouth again.

“I do.”

And with that, you let out a sigh of relief. Thank God. Without thinking, you placed your lips firmly against his and initiated a kiss. He reciprocated, although somewhat hesitantly at first.

“I thought you were tired?” he asked in between kisses, his hands slowly gaining courage as they began exploring your body.

“Not that tired,” you said as you rolled on top of him, straddling him and pushing his body firmly down on the sleeping mat without your lips leaving his.

Chishiya didn’t need any more convincing. He quickly flipped you back around, your body thumping hard against the mat as he forcibly pinned you down under him. His hands got rougher as they ventured all over your body, exploring every curve and soft patch of skin that he could reach.

A moan slipped out of your mouth and into his when his right hand snaked down your body and into your pants, his fingers connecting with your already sensitive clit. He didn’t slow down, instead creating a consistent rhythm as he circled around the needy bud. Your hips instinctively moved against his hand, only further prompting him to continue.

“You like that?” he mumbled possessively into your ear, his fingers pressing harder down on you. “D’you like how I make you feel?”

Unable to use your words, you instead moaned louder. Quickly, Chishiya used his left hand to cover your mouth, suppressing any sound that came from you.

“So eager already?” he asked smugly. “I need you to quiet down, princess. We don’t want the entire forest to hear us, no?”

Once you were subdued, his hand left your mouth and instead journeyed down south to assist his other hand in freeing you of your pants. Once unzipped and unbuttoned, you helped him slide your jeans off by lifting your hips off from the floor, watching as he threw the pants to the side before sitting in between your spread legs.

His fingers traced teasingly along the trim of your panties, carefully avoiding the places that were desperate to be touched. After minutes that felt like hours, he finally trailed down from your belly button to your core, noticing how wet the fabric was.

“Desperate, are we?” he asked amusedly.

“Hurry up,” you mewed, closing your eyes to focus on the faint sensation of Chishiya’s fingers tickling your most sensitive area.

“Desperate and commanding. I better get going, huh?”

To your luck, Chishiya promptly helped you out of your underwear, throwing them over to your pants before immediately delving his long, slender fingers into your core. You moaned, quickly covering your own mouth as you remembered his warning minutes prior.

In a manner that was simultaneously careful and eager, he made sure you were adequately warmed up and stretched out, before pulling off his own sweatpants and boxer briefs in one go. Your eyes connected with his hard length, your mouth almost salivating at what was to come.

Chishiya didn’t waste any more time, his collectiveness wavering as carnal desires took over his mind. He climbed on top of you, spreading your legs to each side of him before lining his hardness up at your entrance and pushing himself in right away.

You both gasped as you got used to the sudden change of sensation. Your walls tightened up around his dick, hugging it tightly in a hungry embrace. Chishiya buried his face in your neck, fighting against his animalistic urges to remain at least somewhat in control. Once at least moderately grounded, his hips began moving against yours, his cock pumping in and out of you rhythmically and filling you both up with continuously building layers of pleasure.

Without realising it, your legs tightened around his body as you slowly but steadily felt yourself get closer to the edge - closer to the release you so desperately needed after the rather hectic day you had just experienced.

You didn’t even notice when Chishiya bit down on your shoulder in an attempt to keep himself from finishing, his body continuing working towards its goal of getting you closer, and closer, and….

“Fuck, I’m coming!” you eventually moaned, your vision fading to black as you felt pleasure rushing through your body, all your senses focused elsewhere leaving you completely oblivious to what was going on in the real world.

As the wonderful sensation sadly came to an end, you felt Chishiya collapse down on top of you, his deep voice grunting into your ear as he too came, filling your core up with his cum. For a while, you stayed in this position, both recovering from the short but intense escapade you had just shared. Eventually, Chishiya rolled off you, landing on the hard mat with a thud.

A part of you feared what would happen next. The last time you slept together, Chishiya spent the entire week after on ignoring you. You weren’t sure if you could survive that treatment again. However, to your delight, Chishiya gently pulled you back in close to him, hugging your tired body firmly against his.

“I needed that,” he mumbled, his voice already sounding calm and sleepy. You chuckled a bit, but nonetheless nodded to show agreement.

“Me too.”

Chishiya yawned and pulled you even tighter against him, hugging you like a child would hug its favourite plushie. Just as he was about to fall asleep, you decided to ask the question that was weighing heavily on your mind.

“You won’t ignore me again, right?”

He opened his eyes, looking a bit confused before he understood where you came from.

“No,” he said, grazing your forehead with his lips before closing his eyes again. “I’ll never ignore you again.”

That were the last words you remembered before you gently lulled to sleep, his reassuring words calming the last few anxious thoughts running through your mind and finally allowing you to succumb to your exhaustion.

I’ll never ignore you again.

The phrase played over and over again in your mind as you slept, even appearing in your dream. And you believed him. You really did. This was the start of something new.

[reiderwriter]

♡ Girls Just Wanna Have Fun ♡

Week 5 of my Playlist Series ♡

Summary: Spencer isn't used to clubs, but when duty calls, he's made to feel a little bit more welcome by a girl who seems to know him better than a stranger should.

Warnings: Smut 18+ Minors DNI!! Hotchner!Reader (Reader is Hotch's sister), semi-public sex (x2 oops), oral sex (m receiving), fingering, dry humping, hand job, cum play, dirty talk, degradation and name calling (slut only), use of daddy/sir even though this is like solidly season 1 Spencer lmao, corruption kink, loss of virginity (surprisingly the readers)

A/N: Every single intrusive thought I've ever had about s1 Reid tied up in a nice little bow masquerading as a song fic. It is finished, and now I feel flushed. Please expect only fluff from me until my next intrusive thought (maybe half an hour, probably no longer).

Masterlist || Spotify Playlist

Flashing lights and the scent of dried up alcohol stains weren't usually signs of Spencer Reid's presence. He'd managed to get through college - two degrees and three PhDs - without stepping foot into a nightclub. But now that he'd joined the BAU, it seemed to be an unavoidable occurrence. 

“The unsub hunts at this nightclub, I get that, I do. But why am I the one going in? He's targeting women,” he panicked as his older team member helped adjust his clothes to conceal the weapon he carried. 

“Because, pretty boy, it's student night, and you're the only one here who can pass for a 21 year old. I guess late puberty has some benefits.” Derek smacked his arm playfully, leaving the younger man wincing slightly. 

“But I'm not a woman.” 

“Yes, but you'll be able to walk around and note any suspicious behaviour, and then we can tail suspects you flag,” Hotch explained to him again. 

“Just act natural, kid, it's not like it's your first time in a club.” 

“It is.” His warnings fell on deaf ears though, as they pushed him out of the van and into the crowd of students queueing to enter. 

It didn't take you long to notice him after you arrived at the club.

The sweater vest was enough to make him stand apart slightly, as much as he was trying his best to blend in. A slight tingle of familiarity raced up your spine as his eyes awkwardly met yours, his scan of the room stopping short as he flushed and turned his eyes down. 

Pushing slightly to the crowd, you leaned over the counter next to him and tried to get the bartenders attention. It was loud and busy, but catching attention and keeping it was a skill you'd mastered early, a skill that you were thankful for as you realised the man's eyes were guiltily flicking between your ass and the crowd once again. 

“Are you going to stare, or are you going to introduce yourself,” you giggled, sliding closer to his perch at the bar, as he panicked, standing straighter. 

“I wasn't, um… your dress, there's a rip at the edge of your skirt, I was trying to figure out if it was part of the design because I know some clothes these days have damage built into the design, or if it was in need of some emergency… sewing.” His hands gesticulating awkwardly throughout his explanation, as if anxious to show you the jumble in his brain was entirely pure and innocent, even as the flush on his face said otherwise. 

“And your name is?” 

“I-.... Spencer. My name is Spencer.” 

You stood a little straighter hearing the name, that familiarity warming you more. Spencer. Spencer. Spencer. You turned the name over in your head but took another step closer as the crowd shifted in a wave, feeling the heat coming off his body. 

“Well, Spencer,” your tongue made the decision to act for your brain, the words coming out before you could stop them. “What conclusion did you draw? Do you think the rip was intentional or not?” 

Gently, you grabbed his hand and led it to the fabric. The skirt wasn't scandalously short, but short enough to suit the dark heated atmosphere of the club at least, but as his fingers grazed the back of your thighs, still hesitant in his actions, you found yourself wishing it were just that bit higher, so his hands would have to reach further up. 

With a gaze over your shoulder at the crowd, Spencer found himself at an impass. He'd already noted a few people of interest, loiterers, men getting a bit rough and aggressive in the club, people on the outskirts (like him, he supposed) that could possibly be their unsub. 

He'd been given the all clear to disengage and leave the club as effortlessly as he could  bit something in your initial gaze had pinned him to place at the bar, and refused still to let him see reason. 

“I think it's a design feature. To draw attention to…” he swallowed hard, but you weren't sure if he was just being delicate about his words or if he was reacting to the hand that was now on him, dragging nails up from his abdomen to his chest. 

“Good observation, Spencer.” 

“Your name. You didn't tell me what your name was.” He said, grabbing your hand to stop its progress and breathing deeply as if to clear his head. 

“Y/N. We should dance.” Without giving him time to react, you abandoned your drink on the counter and pulled his arm around your waist, dragging him out to the crush of people in the middle of the dance floor. 

His protests were lost in the pulse of the music, as you kept your back to him and began grinding and swaying against him. His hands tightened on your hips as he gently started moving with you, and you threw your head back to catch his eye again. 

Spencer didn't know what he'd gotten himself into. He knew that very little actually dancing actually went on at a club, that this was just a more polite socially acceptable form of foreplay, but he didn't know that it would have such an effect on him. 

A mess of sweaty, intoxicated people spilling drinks and other fluids, and he thought he'd stay there forever if it kept your hips torturing his cock like that. 

When you glanced up at him, he was a man lost to his senses, lust clouding his eyes, mouth slightly open in a pant, you reached up to his neck and pulled his lips down to meet yours. 

You were surprised when it was his to guess to reach out first, his hand that trailed under your shirt without tours guiding it. You'd picked up a fairly innocent man at the bar and turned him into a pervert in the space of one dance. It felt like the club was watching you, how his hands grazed the skin under your breasts and caused the shiver up your spine, how your back arched to press deeper against his election. 

You may have tempted him into taking this risk, but he was the one gleefully nosediving into his fall from grace. 

“Spencer,” you whispered as he came up for air, lips resting at your ear. “I think we should get some fresh air.” 

Something in that seemed logical. It was colder outside. Maybe it would cool off whatever had lit him up like a pyre on the dance floor. Maybe the fresh air would clear his head. Or maybe just the open space would help him detangle his hands from you, would lead his thoughts away from burying himself deep in you. 

He would gladly take you outside, bid you farewell, and return to his job and his life. It was a solid exit for his first cover - who was going to question the young lovers leaving together. 

You had a feeling that the idea of outside would have Spencer pulling away from you, but you hadn't had your fill of fun just yet. 

So just as you led him onto the dancefloor, you kept a hand over his, around your waist, and you guided him out of the club, down the street a few paces, and into a darkened alleyway. 

“Y/N, we shouldn't be-” he tried to stutter out as you pulled him in for another kiss. His brain was trying to protest, but his hands were already back on your ass, pulling you up and closer to him. 

“What was that?” You said between kisses, his mouth launching an assault against each inch of your skin. 

He gasped for breath and pulled back, realising that he'd lifted and pinned you to the cold brick wall of the alley in his haste to feel you pressed against him. 

“Y/N… I don't want to take advantage of you, I'm not-” 

“I'm taking advantage of you, Spencer,” you said, nipping at his neck slowly raking your hands into his shoulders. “Am I allowed to do that? Can I take all of you, Spencer?” 

His eyes rolled back in his head as he let put a groan of pleasure, your lips sucking at the tender flesh of his nape. 

“I-I'm not a student, and-” 

“I know, but you are such a pretty boy that I decided I wanted to have some fun with you.” 

His resolve broke in half as you uttered your compliments, and his lips met yours in a moan as his hands pushed your skirt up around your waist. 

His finger trailed between your hips and his, using the wall to balance you as he pushed aside your panties and began slowly stroking your sex. 

Your hips pitched forward to press more of his slender fingers against you,  desperate to feel him stretch your cunt open first with one, then two, then however many he decided was good enough for you. 

Leaving one hand on his shoulder, you let one trail down his pants, stepping one foot down to allow you access to his zipper. 

He pauses Again for a second as you manage to get his pants open, your hand pulling his cock free from the constraint of his clothing. Spitting on your hand, you wrap around it firmly and slowly pump up and down, looking him directly in the eye as you watch the pleasure pour over him. 

His forehead rests against yours as he melts into your touch, so desperate, needing to cum so badly that he's willing to let it happen in this dark dirty alley. 

“Spencer, I want to have a lot of fun with you. Will you let me?” 

“Yes, fuck Y/N.” He nods, his hips rocking into your hand with each slow stroke you give him. 

“Spencer,” you say, rocking your hips forward and pushing your panties further to the side once again. “Spencer, please fuck me. Take my virginity, Spencer, please.” 

His mind whirled at the sentence, the pleas dropping from your lips. Virginity. You were a virgin. 

You'd had him cock stiff after three minutes of conversation  had pulled him into an alleyway and lost him in a fog of pleasure, and you were still innocent. Untouched. 

You wanted to have your fun with him. You'd chosen him. 

He couldn't articulate the lust that coated his tongue, so he simply pushed it into your mouth  grabbed his cock from your hands, lined himself up with your drippy cunt and pushed in with a single thrust. 

You gasped and let out a moan, not quite fully pleasurable. Your hands again found his shouldend, his back, but your nails were sharper this time, digging in further, almost piercing skin. 

“Fuck, Spencer, yes,” you said, breathing shakily as you slowly started moving around his cock. 

“Did it hurt?” 

“It doesn't hurt anymore. Now, please Spencer, fuck me and don't hold back. It's more fun that way.” 

He pulled your hips closer, moaning as you tightened around him. Pressing one hand against the wall and keeping another hand gripped so hard around your hip you knew it'd bruise, he began moving. 

He began slow, trying not to lose himself in the feel of your unused, tight hole. But with each small moan, each scratch against his back, he lost a little bit more of that control he was begging for. 

With his hands engaged, his brows furrowed I'm frustration that he couldn't stroke your bundle of nerves, he couldn't force you to cum on his cock as quickly as he wanted to. 

“Y/N, look at me.” You opened your eyes at the words, unaware that they'd closed tight as you emptied all other senses to just feel him. 

“Touch yourself. Right there, that's it,” he watched your fingers rub delicately against your skin, spoke little words of encouragement, and told you to increase your speed and pleasure. 

“That's it. That's it, now it's time for you to cum, Y/N. Cum on my cock, rub your little clit for me and cum around my big cock, Y/N.” 

“Shit… shit, shit, shit, Spencer, oh my god.” Your hands shook, and your hips twitched, and with a cry, you reached that high you'd been craving since you met his eyes earlier. 

He pulled out of you, slowly pulling you off the wall, as he held you up, letting your legs regain their strength. His cock was still hard, still coated in your arousal as he took care of you. 

You caught your breath fast, regained tour strength quicker as you noticed he didn't plan on getting himself off anymore. He let you have your fun with him and was happy to end it all there. 

You weren't. 

“Spencer,” you sang again, wrapping a hand once again around his erection as he tried to straighten out your now slightly more ripped skirt. “Spencer, it's more fun of we both cum. I want you to make a mess of my hand, can you do that for me?” 

You stroked his cock with a firmer grip than before, your arousal lubricating each stroke, his pre-cum mingling with it to aid you further. You suddenly wondered what he would taste like, but knew your legs would be too weak to do everything your heart desired today. 

There was always tomorrow. 

He leaned his weight back on the wall behind you, forcing you back as well as you pumped him quickly so desperate to hear him moan your name as he spilt his seed. 

“Y/N,” he moaned, and you were triumphant. His hips jerked once, then twice, then a third time, and he stilled, heaving breaths as he buried his head in your shoulder. 

He swallowed and regained his breath, and as he pulled away, you pulled your fingers to your lips and lapped up the final drops of cum that he left there. 

Most of it had his the wall, dripped to the floor, but you enjoyed these few drops and smiled brightly at him, pulling a handkerchief that you knew would be in his pocket out and cleaning the two of you up. 

He flushed again as he came back to his senses, especially as you attempted to put his clothed to rights, stepping back to replace his softening cock in his pants.

“Well,” you said after setting yourself to rights, “Thank you for the fun night, Spencer. See you tomorrow.” 

You skipped off quickly before he had a second to even process your words. 

The next day at the local precinct was a blur for Spencer as he tried to drag himself from the drug induced haze of meeting you. He'd stroked himself to completion two more times in bed after he returned to his motel room, reliving the sound of you begging him to take you, the words ‘pretty boy’ on your lips as you spread your legs. 

It'd taken his entire brain, or what was left of it, to not jump out of his skin every time Morgan had teased him with the words that morning.

“Now how did you like your first club experience, pretty boy? Did any college cuties throw themselves at you?” 

He spat up his coffee, choosing that moment to choke, and begging god for this to just be the end of Spencer Reid entirely. 

Because there was no way Morgan would actually believe that that was exactly what had happened. 

“Morgan, Gideon wants you in the interrogation room, and- wow, Spencer, you should change your shirt. What are you, 5? You can't drink coffee properly?” Elle said, chuckling slightly.

“I choked,” he frowned, but it fell on deaf ears as his teammates walked away quickly to get back to their jobs. 

He wished he could recover so quickly, even now the image of you having your fun with him the night before playing like a movie in his head. 

Looking down, he realised Elle was right, and he really did need to change his shirt. Hotch always had a few spare on hand, even for cases out of the office. He grabbed some tissues, dabbing against the mess of coffee on his shirt, suddenly thankful for lukewarm police precinct coffee, and started making his way towards Hotch. 

“Hey, Hotch-” he made it three steps before your voice cried out. 

“Ronnie!!” You shouted, throwing your hands around your elder brother as he caught you in a hug. 

“Y/N, we're at a police station. If you're going to come see me, you have to at least call me Aaron.” 

“And not take the chance to embarrass you in front of your peers and coworkers? Not a chance, Ronnie. Not a chance.” He chuckled fondly, brushing away his complaints quickly as he turned to introduce you to JJ first, then Elle and then the frozen statue that had replaced Spencer. 

“And, Y/N, this is Dr. Spencer Reid. Spencer, this is my sister, Y/N. She's a student at the university.” 

You held out your hand with a triumphant grin as Spencer stared in wide-eyed horror at the apparition in front of him. 

“Hello, Spencer. It's very nice to finally meet you. My brother has told me a lot about you, and I'm very excited to pick your brains.” 

The air seemed to explode around Spencer as each breath became deliriously hot, filling his lungs with fire. It was moments before he realised that he wasn't actually breathing at all, and the air was actually quite normal. 

Your hand remained out, ready to greet him, and to the surprise of his coworkers, he took it in his for a short shake. 

“Y/N. Hotch's sister, Y/N. Nice to meet you, Y/N Hotchner, Hotch's sister.” 

He could practically hear the audible sound of Elle and JJ smacking a hand against their faces in horror at his stupidly obvious reaction to the woman in front of him. If he wasn't careful, he'd be spouting confessions of desire soon, and knowing that Aaron Hotchner carried two guns on his person even now did nothing to calm his thoughts. 

“Okay, well, Y/N, I'm busy with some interrogations now, but I can drive you back to your apartment in half an hour if you're okay to wait with JJ?” 

“Are you busy, Spencer?” You asked instead, keeping her eyes locked on the man who still weakly shook her hand, unaware of when the right time to stop would be. 

“I was serious when I said I wanted to pick your brain, my brother said you had a PhD in Engineering and I'm struggling through a class right now that I need some guidance in if you can spare five minutes?” 

Spencer stared between Hotch and you, looking for the right answer to please present itself before he imploded right there. 

“Yes. PhD, I have a PhD. Three actually, but whose counting? Me. I just counted them. One of them is in mathematics, actually, so I guess I'm always counting.” He finally dropped your hand, and you gave him a wider smile that dropped his heart to his stomach. “I am free, unless you needed me for something else, Hotch?” 

His gaze was pleading, though he wasn't sure if he was begging for his life, five more minutes alone with you or the power to extricate himself from this situation entirely, but Hotch nodded his acceptance quickly and let you lead Spencer off to the small, empty visitors room at the opposite side of the precinct. 

You shut the door behind you when you walked in, leaning over to close the blinds as well before you turned back to Spencer. 

“Your shirt is wet. You should probably take it off,” you giggled as you trailed a hand up his arm once again. 

His hand grabbed yours before you could do any more damage to his tender nerves than you'd already managed that morning. 

“You knew the entire time? Who I was?” 

“I walked over because you seemed familiar, but I only figured it out when you said your name. My brother does talk about you a lot.”

“Hotch is going to kill me,” he said, slumping down into the chair behind him. “Y/N, your brother was outside the club. He could've seen us leave.” 

You climbed into his lap, and his eyes finally met yours again, his tongue stopping its hopeless tirade as you relaxed into his chest. 

“I have two older brothers, Spencer. Do you know how often they've been able to tell me what to do?” Your hands started down his shirt, making quick work of the buttons as he stared up, enthralled. 

“Not once have they been able to stop me from doing something I wanted.” 

He scoffed quickly, unable to help himself. Your hands gripped either side of his face and lifted his head to meet your gaze again. 

“And right now, Spencer, I really want you.” A roll of your hips was enough to have him hissing and grabbing your hips. You started steadily rocking into him, eyes still locked with his. 

“Y/N, please let's be sensible.” 

“I don't want to be sensible, I want to have fun. I want to suck your dick right here, and let you cum in my mouth. I want to scream your name and let everyone know who is giving me pleasure. Can't I do that, Spencer?” 

“No,” he groaned, his eyes screwed shut as you dry humped him, trying to get yourself off on his lap, his.cock rising with each of your quiet moans. 

“Spencer, please. I want your big, hard cock back inside me. Please, please, please. I'll be a good girl, I promise.” 

His eyes shot open in incredulity as he watched you use his body as you saw fit. 

“Good girls don't lose their virginities in alleyways, Y/N. Good girls don't throw themselves at their brothers' coworkers. Good girls listen when they're told no, and don't try to suck cock in public, like little sluts.” He spat each word at you, bit you enjoyed each insult he hurled your way, enjoyed the way his body recoiled as he finally called you a slut. 

He seemed slightly shocked by his anger himself, but you didn't seem to care. It took you only seconds after to push your lips against his again and have your hands on his cock once again, pulling him out of his pants as his hands explored you just as eagerly. 

“Yeah, Spencer, your little slut. I'm such a little slut for you, please fuck me.” 

He buried a hand in your hair, tipping your head back so his tongue could probe deeper, his other hand already under your shirt and teasing one nipple. You lifted your hips and sunk down onto his cock, neither of you stopping to think again about your actions as you began to rode him. 

“30 minutes, Y/N, by now we have 24 minutes and 17 seconds. Can you manage that, Y/N?” 

“Yes, sir.” You said, feeling his dick twitch as you rode him. “Oh did you like that? You liked me calling you, sir?” His hips pressed up again, his body answering more honestly than his tongue. 

“What else can I call you? Spencer… sir….daddy?” 

He broke away from his place buried in your neck to push the two of you down to the floor, the new angle had you gasping as a hand covered your mouth stifling any screams you could make before you made them. 

“Be quiet and cum on my cock, Y/N,” he whispered and picked up his pace, one hand gagging you while the other pulled painfully at your nipple, pinching it between two hands and using it to lift your entire chest so your body was arched toward him, letting him go deeper. 

“Yes, Daddy,” you whispered again, against his fingers, tempted to wrap your lips around one and suck it into your mouth. 

“Fuck, just call me Spencer, Y/N.” 

But you couldn't respond, suddenly overcome with the numbness of you orgasm washing over you as you bit back a choked cry. 

“That's it, good job, Y/N. You listen so well, good job.” He rubbed soothing circles into your chest as his hips slowed, working you through your orgasm as he withdrew once again. 

This time though, he didn't try to pull away and leave himself hard, but sat himself up, and lifted you once again too, putting slight pressure at the back of your head until you were on your knees and letting your head fall down, down, down as your lips wrapped around his wet cock. 

You took him in your mouth, and tasted the bitter, salty flavor of your illicit activities, lapping every last bit of your joint pleasure up as he pushed your hair up and down his cock. 

It didn't take long for his hips to press up into your mouth slightly harder than before, his hands holding you steady as he came down your throat. He held your head there for a minute two, as you tried your best to breathe and stay there, taking as much of his cum down your throat as you could. He pulled your head off him and you swallowed the rest, smiling brightly at him as you did so. 

“Thank you for the fun, Spencer,” You said again, grabbing your phone and checking the time. 

Standing up, you pulled your clothes back in place, pulling your skirt down and your panties up, smoothing out the tangles in your hair. 

“Let me go get you that spare shirt, Doctor Reid,” you said, opening the door. “I'm very grateful for your help with my class load, sir.” 

His head fell back into his hands as you closed the door, leaving him to wonder just what the hell he'd got himself in for. 

[edgeray]

oh yes i meant when the reader is pregnant if u can, not in a nsfw way im sorry i made it unclear😭

Dragon Hunter Mother Part 4

(Arlecchino x Fem! Reader)

A/N -Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3  It is once again dragon time, guys. I've written three dragon-related things straight 😩. The part you guys have been waiting for. Actual romance, hell yeah. Extra fluff for that one annoying moot (you know who you are 😡). It’s a bit short compared to the other parts for this series, but probably because there's no new lore dump. Guys, I’ve thought so far into this au, please feel free to ask questions about this AU outside of requests. I am dying to talk about random bits of lore I made up (such as Arle's backstory that I won't be able to write). Also this isn't the end. Because there is going to be a Part 5. What the fuck, guys /j.  Hi anons!! Yes, you can be 🦊 anon and 👅anon. I'm sorry for how late this was first anon, I know I kept you for a while 😭. Also I'm sorrry for not being able to fulfil parts of your request because a) jealous arle wouldn't make sense given the worldbuilding, and b) i don't write nsfw of any kind. Sorry. I'm not going to include how exactly you're pregnant because it makes me uncomfortable writing it, so I'll just leave it up to your interpretation.  Please don't let these discourage you from requesting from me :). I always try my best to satisfy every request as long as it's reasonable and within my rules.  Content warnings / info - no warnings :), 1.8k words

Recovering from the infected wound didn't take long–in fact, it only took a week to be fully healthy, and the wound was healing nicely. Arlecchino was able to take care of everything while you were bedridden. You were surprised by how diligent and aware she seemed to be of taking care of you, especially as a dragon, but you didn't question it. She has had several decades of experience before you, you wouldn't be surprised if she picked up on a few things about humans. 

It's been about four months since the dragon hunters incident, and you have yet had another situation like that. Venturing into the town you had previously been going to was no longer safe, and so you began frequenting another bordering village. It was a bit further away, but because it turned out to be a port town, it ended up providing you with a lot more food and resources you previously couldn't access; including: fresh fish, more meat and produce, and more clothes and fabric. 

The trio have grown big enough to which you ride on top of one of them with no difficulty. They not only increased in size, but also their affection for you, crawling into your lap or climbing your back, or simply pouncing on any limb and holding onto you tightly. The same could be said for you, you no longer saw them as children, but your children. Arlecchino tells you that they refer to you as ‘Mother’ often.

Speaking of Arlecchino, she is no longer the standoffish dragon she was before the dragon hunters incident. On certain days, she can be just as clingy, if not more, than the children, although she would vehemently deny it with a scoff if you are to ever bring it up. Over time, she was less dragon, and more human to you, and with that, your attraction towards her continued to blossom. Your current relationship status with her is still strange, neither of you had ever labeled it on human standards, nor have the two of you ever ‘courted’ one another–in human or in draconic methods. Still, neither the two of you could miss the glances or the way you hold each other. 

Lately, the past few weeks, she has been acting strange. She's been exiting the cave more often alone, leaving you with her children to tend to, not that you mind. She returns hours later, usually with some type of wild animal she caught for you: deer, the occasional bear or moose, sometimes even pigs. You often stand at the entrance of the cave, dumbfounded as she drags the dead creature by her teeth in her dragon form, while the hatchlings salivate. If it's not wild animals, it's usually an arrangement of different colored stones she found along the shores or in the river. You appreciate them, but you're no less puzzled by the intention with each gift. 

You tried to wrack your brain of why she would be behaving like this, but you can’t come up with anything. It also seemed like with every gift you received, she became more and more… saddened? You weren't entirely sure for the reason, but you don't want to offend her by questioning her more. As the weeks pass by, and she disappears more and more, it seems like Arlecchino is… moping. 

You have asked the children multiple times, but all they do is give you a pointed look before jerking their head towards their Father and letting out a rumble. When you approach Arlecchino, asking what was troubling her, all she does is shake her head, her subtle pout ever so slightly intensifying. Finally, having enough of Arlecchino staring blankly at her hands for hours straight, you finally come up to her, taking her clawed hands in yours and gaze into her eyes. 

“Arlecchino. Tell me what's wrong,” you demand gently but firmly, kissing her knuckles.

The dragon stays silent, turning away from you, making your eye twitch. 

“Please…” You plead. 

Arlecchino seems hesitant to answer, opening her mouth before closing it several times. She contemplates something deeply, then lets out a steady exhale. 

“I've been… making courting attempts towards you,” she quietly admits, her cheeks flushing the slightest amount. “But… it seems like you're unreceptive to it because you're human.” 

Courting attempts? As if she was trying to establish a romantic relationship with you? No, it’s not courting as in ‘human courting.’ If it has to do with dragons, then perhaps it means–

“You… you want me as your mate?” You whisper out loud, your face undeniably warm at the realization, and your lips quirk up to the faintest smile. 

The dragon nods timidly, so unbefitting for a strong beast like herself. She peers at you intently, searching and analyzing every twitch of your face to come up with her own answer. You let out a huff, raising your arms to cup the sides of her face in your palms. The cold texture of her skin will never be an unwelcome sensation. 

“You could have told me instead of pouting like one of our children,” you chuckle, stepping closer to lean your forehead against her chest, feeling her thumping heart through it. 

“I didn't know if you wanted to be since… you never responded to my attempts. I know that it's silly seeing that you're human, but I felt more and more discouraged…” Her voice is low and vulnerable, and it makes you want to do nothing more but hold her in your arms forever.  

“You really still have so many things to learn about humans,” you giggle, pressing your lips against her nose. Fingers card through Arlecchino's silky locks, and you hum contently.

 “What do you mean?” 

You grin knowingly. “We like more direct expressions of our desires.” 

You stand on your tiptoes before leaning in, warm lips gracing cold ones as you pull her towards you. Your arms lock around her neck, keeping the two of you against each other. Quickly, Arlecchino responds, pressing her mouth against yours fervently while her fangs prick your bottom lip. You groan into the kiss, and squeak when her hands slide down to your behind, lifting you up from your feet and wrapping your legs around her waist. 

The two of you pull away, and there's almost a feral look in her eyes. 

“There's somewhere I have to take you to,” she growls in your ear, and you can't deny that it makes your stomach coil, your loins burning.  

“Okay…” You murmur, holding onto her tightly. She carries you with ease, walking out of the cave and following along the edge of the mountain's base. It takes only about ten minutes until you spot a small opening, another cavern. Arlecchino takes you inside, and your eyes widen at the sight.

It's a nest, a careful structure supported by stones as the foundation with the sides from branches and sliced tree trunks, before the top is covered in an assortment of blankets and pillows. However, it's smaller and cozier than the nest at home–as if it's made for humans. You carefully step into it, sitting down and finding it pleasantly comfortable. 

“Arlecchino…” you gasp out with whispered awe. 

“Yes…?” 

“Where did you get the money for this?” You question, holding a heap of the numerous silk blankets in your arms, giving her a pointed look knowing damn well it wasn't your money. 

The dragon brings a claw to her face and scratches nervously. “I had Lyney search the bodies of the dragon hunters for anything of value. They had quite a hefty sum,” Arlecchino confesses. 

You sigh in relief, glad that no weaver or innocent person was harmed in getting this. “It's lovely. Is this what you've been leaving the cave for for so long?” 

Arlecchino nods, her voice bashful. “It's… it's a mating nest, so that if it were to happen the children would not be there. I wanted to ask you here…” 

The dragon walks inside the nest, before kneeling down before you, her clawed hands gingerly finding yours and holding them in her large palms. “Would you like to be my mate?” 

“I thought my answer was obvious. Of course,” you answer, smiling. “But isn't mating season in another two months?” 

She nods in response. “I wanted to prepare as early as possible. I wanted everything to be perfect.” ‘For you,’ she leaves out, but you know it's what she implies.

“It is perfect. Thank you… though I feel bad,” you murmur, your own face flustered by your embarrassment. “It took me this long to realize. I guess… I should make it up to you by courting you back, right?” 

Arlecchino flushes, her face visibly reddening. “What do you mean?”

“I mean… you've courted me with how dragons usually do it. I will do the same, but with humans. Does that sound alright?” You offer, giving her the largest grin. 

Arlecchino's face softens, leaning down and pressing her forehead against you. “Yeah… yeah, that sounds alright,” she murmurs against your lips. 

—

Three months have passed by since then. 

Safe to say, you’re pregnant. 

Arlecchino’s attentiveness towards you had always been impressive, but it borders on extreme with how much she pampers you. Before the mating season, you've taught her all you can about human civilization and socialization so that in the instance you won't be able to travel to town yourself, she can instead. While you always have saved up a lot of money from your time as a dragon hunter, she likes to spend it on you unreservedly. 

It would be endearing if it weren't the excessive amount of blankets in the nest, as if you weren't warm enough. Not to mention the amount of books she's gotten you. Since she doesn't exactly know how to navigate a bookstore, or how to differentiate between different genres of books, she’s gotten you dictionaries, children's book, erotica even. She was blissfully unaware why you read a page for a few seconds, shut the book immediately, took a deep breath before reopening the book, only to reshut it as well, repeating the same process. You didn't want her to get any… ideas. 

Currently, Arlecchino was in her dragon form, nestled around you   protectively from any gusts of wind that may pass through the cave entrance, her tail thumping against the floor softly. Her head rests besides you, her throat rumbling gratifyingly as you run your hand over her snout. 

The trio are currently fighting over some of the beef jerky you mistakenly bought for them, unaware of the chaos it would ensue in the cave. They seem to forget that you can return to the town to buy them more… Ah well, hatchlings will be hatchlings. 

You wonder how much more lively the cave will be with another one. 

[apple-salad]

Rose Ribbon Embroidery "Mini" Projects (for BABY NYFW) Part 2: Embroidered Bonnet

I decided semi-last minute to attend BABY's fashion show at NYFW!

BABY had mentioned in their NYFW brand description that their newest collection would be a return to their origins, as well as presenting archival items.

You have to dress to impress for NYFW, right? So of course, I had to pull out all the stops and wear my Rose Ribbon Embroidery.

Also at the last minute, I decided to make a few extra complementing items...

A matching RRE kumya JSK, and a bonnet.

What follows is more of a sew-along/journal rather than a tutorial or guide, mainly for my own memory's sake. But if you enjoy looking at my process (sometimes sloppy), I'm happy!

Also feel free to take a look at the more romantic process video I edited.

Part 1: Kumya JSK

Part 2: Bonnet (you are here)

This post will be my process pictures and notes for the bonnet, as well as a matching mask as a bonus.

I don't believe BABY released matching headwear for Rose Ribbon Embroidery, although I've seen an unknown velveteen headbow with rose lace sold with RRE before.

BABY usually coords RRE with the bunny ear bonnet since Ichigo wears it this way in Kamikaze Girls.

I do own this because I wanted to wear an Ichigo-like outfit at some point, but for this occasion I decided to do something different and make a "matching" embroidered bonnet.

I originally wanted to make a hard bonnet with a very defined brim that could show off the embroidery clearly as I don't really like soft bonnets, but when looking at existing BABY bonnets as a reference, it doesn't look like hard bonnets were a thing back in 2004 (and as it is, BABY rarely releases hard bonnets). So to keep with the oldschool theme, the bonnet is a soft one, although I later make some decisions to make it slightly more structured.

The next decision to make was full bonnet vs half bonnet. The bunny ear bonnet is a full bonnet and I think this is technically more "period accurate", but I am not a fan of how they look like a weird hood from the back so I opted for half (plus, that makes construction and patterning easier for me).

I still used my own bunny ear bonnet as a reference for approximate brim dimensions!

The kumya JSK was a little easier to carelessly sketch out and embroider since I was copying 1:1 from an existing design, but I felt I needed to do at least a bit more careful planning for the embroidery on this. I'm quite bad at creating embroidery designs from scratch, but with the mental image of the rose clusters and swags of vine, as well as referencing the embroidery from the film, I came up with this:

I wanted to emulate the embroidery style of the Momoko's (well, in reality likely the embroidery designer Onoe Megumi--unclear if she did the actual embroidery, but it's likely) embroidery, which I figured wouldn't be too difficult if I was also embroidering by hand.

For material, I am using the same velveteen I used for kumya's JSK. Not my first choice and I actually purchased some thicker looking 100% cotton velvet that I thought would be more similar to the original JSK material, but was worried it wouldn't arrive in time and wanted this project out of the way in case things went wrong/took longer than I expected (it did arrive about a week before the event, but it was totally wrong IRL so I'm glad I just went with this acceptable option). I also bought some more torchon lace, so I used that and another lace from my stash.

The colours of the embroidery in the film also seem to be quite different than BABY's dress. I'm not sure if the pink of the roses has faded over the years, but it has a slight salmon tone whereas the film's roses seem to be more of a pale cool/neutral pink (hard to tell with the yellow tint of the entire film) with some variegation. I love the colour scheme of the film's embroidery, but to keep things coordinated I try to opt for the same colours as the actual dress I have.

I only have white silk ribbon in the width I wanted, so I opted to attempt to dye it to match. Previously I have used alcohol markers to colour the embroidery afterwards, but I find the colour hard to control and it tends to bleed into the fabric. I've also tried colouring the ribbon with the marker before embroidering, but without heat setting the colour transfers onto the fabric as well (and it seems like trying to do so with the amount of ribbon I need would be a waste of ink).

I don't have a lot of experience with it, but since the ribbon is silk, acid dyeing seemed like the way to go.

Very interesting photo of ribbon in pot (the pink ribbon gets eaten up by pinwheel roses much faster than I expected so this is the second batch I had to dye--not ideal as they are definitely slightly different in colour but it's not too noticeable). In total, I think I had to dye 3 batches of ribbon and 4 for the pink ribbon as I just barely ran out near the end, and they are all slightly different colours. Thankfully the undertone is the same so it's difficult to tell unless you are really comparing up close.

I thought I would take this opportunity to use the "peach" acid dye that I bought years ago for another project, but this ended up being a mistake as the colour was totally off (maybe the red dye was too expired). I ended up using my regular fiber reactive procion dyes (with heat/acid), because I have many more colours I could mix together, and that was much better. I really should have done this from the start as I wasted perfectly good silk ribbon by making it too dark/off for my purposes (I ended up overdyeing it in pink so it's a usable colour now, but not for this project).

The silk seems to take on dye extremely fast--even just heating up the dyebath will colour it. In some cases I removed the ribbon before adding any acid at all because I felt the ribbon was already getting too dark.

I managed to get a fairly usable mossy green colour for the leaves and vines, however the pink still ended up being a little off/dark compared to whatever BABY used. It's not too bad here as one strand of ribbon, but when many layers are on top of each other in a rose it seems pretty dark. While not ideal, I think it's still okay, especially considering the embroidery colours used in kumya's JSK match nothing else (many pinks will be going on in this coord).

After dyeing and drying, the ribbon is super wrinkled so I ironed it and wound it on some spare card so it's ready to use.

And now I can start the arduous process of embroidery.

Like before, I mainly use a combination of ordinary ribbon stitches, pinwheel roses, and french knot roses. However, this time I try harder to duplicate, or at least evoke the appearance of the embroidery of the film.

It's interesting how plain and somewhat boring the roses look on their own, especially with this monotone colouring. The varied colours of the film's embroidered roses are lovely, but I decided against it here because the BABY dress has monotone ribbon roses.

The roses definitely seem to just be pinwheel style which is very easy and doable, however I am a bit more confused about the leaves. They look like a number of straight stitches in various lengths and directions that fill in a leaf-like shape. I have no idea if this technique has a name and if there is a proper method for it, because I am a silly beginner who is very uneducated in embroidery.

Anyway I do my best and hopefully I got close enough. Ribbon embroidery is really all about the texture, which is really lovely to look at. Except I have trouble looking at my own work for too long because I start nitpicking all the mistakes I made...

Adding the green and leaves really helps the embroidery come to life.

I took even fewer pictures of the embroidery process than kumya's JSK this time because it's not that interesting. I was definitely getting sick of doing the same pinwheel over and over...

I stupidly decided that aside from embroidering the front of the brim, I also wanted a little bit of embroidery on the back of the brim for interest, as well as on the side.

The designs I drafted out for these two pieces is much simpler, but still, more work....

Almost ready for construction! Hopefully a lot faster with the handwork out of the way.

I iron on some interfacing onto the back brim panel and the bonnet band for slight extra stiffness.

The bottom part of the brim is plain cotton sateen because I was worried that the part that touches the head would get dirtier more quickly it if was velveteen.

I wanted some lace gathered around the brim and an extra velveteen ruffle on the back of the band, so I prepare that now. The lace is gathered with a single gathering thread and sewn down before sandwiching between the two brim panels.

Brim sewn and topstitched (and band is ready for attachment).

The upper flowers ended up a little closer to the top of the band then I intended, but I think it's okay.

Gathering brim and attaching it to band. Because the velvet fabric is so thick, the usual "sew one line of stitching with a wide stitch length" not only made the fabric incredibly difficult to gather, but the thin polyester thread also continually broke when trying to do so. Therefore, I opted for an alternative method I think I'd remember seeing in my sewing machine manual of all things--a zigzag carefully stitched over a central gathering thread. This worked much better, although I probably should have used a thicker/extra strong thread as the central gathering thread because it did break the second time I had to gather the brim due to a mistake.

I also add a bit of lace to the inside of the brim. I think this adds some luxury and frilliness between the head and the bonnet's brim, so I wanted to add a small width. I probably could have used even more of the lace's width since it turned out very subtle when worn. But I still think it adds a small amount of interest to the innermost part of the brim and was worth adding.

Unfortunately here after sewing on both brim parts I realize that I gathered both using an incorrectly marked centre line, so I had to rip it out and do it again ;_;

Next, I can carefully align and pin the bottom of the brim to the bonnet and sew it down. I tack this down by hand because I'm not skilled/accurate enough with a sewing machine to topstitch both sides nicely at once (look closely, and my messy stitching is quite visible...)

I also fold in the raw edges and finish the sides of the brim by hand, leaving some openings for ribbon ties.

At this point I spray almost the whole bonnet with water to disperse and fade my markings. Unfortunately, some of the earlier batches of ribbon that I dyed (Can you tell the variance in the 3 dye batches I needed to do?) were probably not washed well after dying and seem to have bled into the fabric from the water...but hopefully it's not too noticeable.

Next I topstitched all around the brim and attached the ribbon ties.

I bought some double sided velvet ribbon in my last minute supplies shipment and made some bows from it. I think the material is a little thick and petersham would have worked alright as well, but the consistent velvet material feels more luxurious, doesn't it? I also think as an added benefit (?) the ribbon being plush and double sided made the bows more puffy looking.

I add some clips to the sides and a toupee clip to the top for security. I opted for a toupee clips because I think it's really the way to go if you don't want the head item to move at all, no matter how thin or slippery your hair.

Finished.

Bonus 1: rose accent pin

I was in a bit of a rush at this point as it was near the end of the week coming up to the show, so I didn't take any photos of the process here but the technique and templates I used were identical to my handmade faux rose rosettes I made for UM (and the bonus corsages). I have a post with all the details of this sitting in my drafts that I will post eventually, and I will update this post when that happens.

The brooch was just meant to add a bit of 3D faux flower accent to the bonnet, bringing in the rose motif even more. Partially inspired by the faux flowers BABY adds to their bonnets sometimes, like on Milk Tea Doll.

The fabric was "custom dyed" with the same fiber reactive dye I used for the silk. The fabric was further starched, cut out by hand, and shaped with flower iron tools before gluing together.

Bonus 2: matching embroidered mask

I wasn't sure about whether or not I wanted to wear a matching mask, but decided to do so for situations when I would want my face at least half-covered in public. I didn't really expect to be visible in fashion show pictures as someone in the back, but just in case. (I think this decision was worth it, although my makeup transferred all over the thing and in most pictures my face was even more unflattering. eh well)

I forgot to take a lot of pictures of my process for this, but it's very uninteresting and not dissimilar from every other mask sewalong from 2020. I draft out a design similar to the bonnet motifs on both of my mask panels (cotton sateen), and embroider.

I should have embroidered closer to the centre of the mask because when worn the embroidery is not very visible/covered by my hair at the sides. What can I do since the panels were already cut though...oh well!

The lining material is some Japanese CLEANSE Ex fabric I had bought previously to make masks during the pandemic. It's supposed to be antibacterial and antiviral, as well as washable, but I have no idea how well supported those claims are.

Sew together normally on both upper and lower sides, turn inside out, add a channel for nose wire and side channels for elastic.

I also have some mask elastic on hand so I use that.

And the finished outfit again with all my items~

Thank you for reading! If you ever feel inspired to take up a similar project, such as the kumya JSK, I'd love to see it!

[arc852]

First Meetings 1/3

Summary: How Jimmy met Grian and Joel.

Warnings: anxiety, being/feeling trapped, and hunger pains

Word Count: 2295

AO3 Link

It's finally time! Let's see how Jimmy met Grian and Joel in the BBBCAU!

This is gonna be a slightly longer story, which is why I'm splitting it up into three parts! I'm still working on part 2 though so it might be a few days until the next chapter. It took me a while to figure out how I wanted their first meeting to go but I think I'm quite happy with what I've come up with! So I hope you guys enjoy!

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

 Jimmy opened his wall entrance slowly, peeking out and taking a look around. His entrance was hidden behind one of the humans’ desks, so he was safe to check and make sure there were no humans in the room.

 Once he deemed the room empty, he came out of the walls fully and prepared for a quick raid of the dorm room. It had only been a week since classes had started up again, which meant things were still a mess in a lot of the dorm rooms. Especially the ones used by freshmen. Humans who were fresh to college, still learning and getting all of their stuff together. These were the rooms where Jimmy found the most things and he was always excited about what kinds of things he would find.

 He adjusted the strap of his bag as he came out into the open, glancing warily at the door for a brief moment. He should be fine, it was still early enough that if the humans weren’t here, then they were still in class. He should have plenty of time to borrow and then get out.

 Confident in his reasoning, Jimmy’s gaze left the door and wandered around the room. There were some clothes strewn about but with them on the floor like this, Jimmy stayed away from them. He couldn’t be sure if they were dirty or clean and he would rather be safe than sorry. Besides, humans usually noticed when clothes went missing. Jimmy really only felt comfortable taking clothes if they were already lost.

 That’s how he had gotten his current bed, a sock that had fallen between the bed and the wall as the human was trying to fold their laundry. They never noticed it missing and so Jimmy had dragged it through the walls and back to his home. That had been years ago now, and the sock had been good to him. 

 It didn’t look like he was going to get anything like that out of this room though. He’d probably do well to focus on getting some food. He was running really low, so some crumbs, maybe a full chip if he could manage it, would be great.

 So Jimmy walked around the room, looking behind the piles of clothes and underneath the nightstands for any food that would have dropped. So far, there wasn’t anything but Jimmy still had a lot of the room to go. He headed over to the opposite desk, heading underneath to see if any crumbs had gotten stuck in the carpet. The desks and beds, both under and on top, were most likely to have food, since that’s were he noticed the humans eating the most.

 But as he made it to the desk, there was a sound that made Jimmy’s blood run cold. The jingling of keys and the turning of a knob. Wasting no time, Jimmy ran the rest of the way underneath the desk and hid himself behind one of the far legs. Just in time too, because as he settled the door fully opened, revealing two humans. They were just legs to Jimmy from this angle but that did nothing to lessen his fear.

 “--try to finish it all tonight.” One of the humans spoke, in the middle of talking already as they had entered the room.

 “How much did you get? Aren’t you only taking three classes this first semester?” The other one asked. Jimmy tried to peek out more, to try and get a better look at the humans in order to see what they were doing. He wasn’t afraid of being seen from here, he knew humans barely ever looked down, let alone in the corners and underneath their own desks.

 The human who had just spoken was wearing a red sweater and just threw his backpack underneath his desk. Jimmy winced a bit and then was thankful when the other human, one who appeared to have a green streak in his hair, placed his backpack at the edge of his bed. 

 “Yeah, and two of them aren’t super homework heavy. But my other class definitely makes up for that.” The green-streaked human said, letting out a sigh. “I want my weekend free though, so if I focus I can probably get it done before dinner.”

 The red wearing human hummed and Jimmy watched him nod. “Yeah, I’ll probably do the same. I’ve got no more classes today either and having the weekend off sounds great.”

 Jimmy bit his lip. That did not sound good. Both humans seemed to plan on staying in the rest of the day and since Jimmy’s exit was currently on the other side of the room, he had no choice but to wait. Hopefully they would both leave for lunch or dinner. Otherwise he had to wait until they both fell asleep.

 And knowing college students, that could be a while.

 Jimmy sighed and started to settle into his spot, only to jump and just barely hold back a yelp as the chair in front of him got pulled out. Jimmy slammed a hand over his mouth and pressed himself back into the wall. The human was just taking a seat but the suddenness of it had caused Jimmy’s heart rate to spike.

 The human pulled himself forward but Jimmy was still far back enough that he was still at least a foot away from the human. Still, he was no longer comfortable staying here to hide. One wrong swing of the human’s foot and he was as good as dead. Or caught. Either one was very bad.

 Thankfully, the desk was pushed right up next to the bed and so Jimmy shimmied along the wall until he was out from the desk and hidden under the darkness of the bed instead. Jimmy let out a little sigh of relief, no longer feeling cramped from having the human so close.

 He stayed by the wall and took a seat, leaning against it. Might as well get himself comfortable with how long he would have to wait. He ducked his head a little and watched as the other human’s feet disappeared, probably getting into his bed to do his homework there. Both backpacks were still where they had left them, so Jimmy could only assume they were doing their homework on laptops.

 “Alright, let’s get this done.” The human with the green-streak said. He heard the other human hum and then the air was filled with sounds of typing and clicking. 

 Jimmy sighed and waited.

***

   Nothing interesting had happened and no opportunity for escape had presented itself throughout the rest of the day. Grian and Joel (he had learned their names as he sat there waiting) had continued to talk with one another as they worked on their homework. He had perked up when they had talked about getting something to eat but was disappointed when only Grian left to go pick something up for them.

 As the humans ate their food, Jimmy’s stomach growled, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten since early that morning. He pushed the feeling away though. Even if the humans made some mess and dropped something, he couldn’t go get it right now. Not without being seen.

 He settled back in as they had continued to work, until finally, after many hours, Joel let out a short exclamation. “Done! Finally.” He heard Joel close his laptop and the human leaned back in his chair, stretching. His feet hit the back wall and Jimmy was glad he had moved.

 Joel pushed the chair back and stood up, stretching again once he was standing. He heard Grian chuckle. “It’s about time. I’ve been done for an hour now.”

 “Oh good for you.” Joel said, his voice taking a mocking tone. Grian laughed.

 Jimmy placed his head in one hand, leaning against it as he watched (though all he could see were Joel’s legs at the moment) and listened. These humans were interesting, that was for sure. He hadn’t been as bored as he could have been, listening to them talk and go back and forth with one another.

 But even so, no matter how interesting a pair of humans appeared to be, he would much rather be back in the walls and away from the threat of being caught. He didn’t expect to be seen, he was careful and in a spot a human wouldn’t look in, but the longer he stayed the more his anxiety began to grow.

 Unfortunately, it looked like he would have to wait longer. “Want to celebrate with a movie night? I’ve got some popcorn in my bag.” Grian said and Jimmy barely heard Joel’s reply of yes as he sighed in frustration. He knew this would be a possibility though. From his time in the dorms and watching many college students, he knew they tended to stay up way later than they probably should. It was one of the things that made borrowing here hard, which was why Jimmy tended to go out and borrow while the humans were in class rather than at night.

 He heard them shuffling around, talking as they got the movie set up. The smell of popcorn filled the air and once again Jimmy’s stomach reminded him how long he had gone without food. And once again, he pushed it back down.

 The two humans settled into bed and the sounds of the movie began to play. Jimmy leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes, listening to the sounds of the movie and imagining what could be happening on the screen. Despite his want to get out of there, it was kind of nice. He had never been this close to actually watching a movie before. It sounded fun.

 Eventually, the movie ended and the humans went to their own beds. The lights turned off and he heard the shuffling of blankets but Jimmy still waited. After maybe another hour or so, Jimmy finally felt confident enough to try and make his way back to his entrance into the walls.

 He stopped short of the edge of the bed, looking up and at Grian, since he was currently the only human he could see. His eyes were closed and his breathing was even. He was definitely asleep.

 He then stuck close to the nightstand and rounded the corner in order to peek up and look at Joel. He was the same, steady breathing and closed eyes. Jimmy let out a little sigh of relief. He wasted no time in running back across the room, back to Grian’s desk where his entrance was located. 

 Jimmy grinned, relieved he would finally be able to get back home. Grian’s backpack was still there but he went to the side of it to get to his exit. His smile turned into a frown, however, when he realized the bag was too close to the wall in order for him to get through. “No…” Jimmy let out a little noise of frustration, going over to the other side of the bag to see if it was any different over there.

 It wasn’t.

 The bag was too full, making it a heavy roadblock. Meaning, despite how small Jimmy was, he couldn’t push his way behind the bag. He tried, he really did, but it didn’t so much as budge and Jimmy quickly got scared at how much weight it held. He backed away, wondering what he was going to do now.

 This entrance was the only one he had in this room and going out into the hallway was definitely not a good idea. It didn’t matter how late it was, there was always a chance some human would be walking down the hall and then Jimmy would be as good as caught.

 No, he was well and truly trapped within this room.

 But that was fine. He would just wait until tomorrow. Grian would pick up his backpack to go to class and then there wouldn’t be…a…problem…

 Wait, today was Friday, wasn’t it? Friday was the last day of the week for classes. He knew that and Grian and Joel had just been talking about it earlier too. Tomorrow was the weekend and both humans had already completed their homework. Which meant…

 Which meant there was no reason for Grian to pick up and move his bag for at least another two full days.

 Jimmy leaned against the wall, slowly sliding down it until he was sitting against it. He threw his head back and let out a quiet noise of frustration and worry. He was trapped in this room for the rest of the weekend at least. 

 Honestly, he felt like crying a little.

 He shook the feelings away though. Crying wouldn’t help him.

 He stood up and went underneath Grian’s bed. He didn’t want to stay underneath the desk, just in case Grian did need his backpack before the weekend was over but staying underneath his bed at least left him on the right side of the room. Once the bag was lifted and the humans’ backs were turned, he could take the opportunity to get back into the walls.

 For now though, he let himself lay down, using his bag as a makeshift pillow as he tried to get some sleep. He wasn’t sure he would be able to, but he at least had to try. Just because he was trapped in this room, his anxiety growing more and more at the thought, didn’t mean he could forgo his rest. He needed it more than ever in this situation anyway.

 He closed his eyes and tried to ignore the way he could hear the humans’ breathing and shifting.

 Eventually, he did fall asleep.

[starwarsmum]

Global Crisis for day 5 ❤️ buckle up for the long fic folks

@maribat-calendar-events

Chat Noir hadn't meant to find out Ladybug's identity. No, really, he was trying to follow her rules, even if he didn't agree with them but…when he had been trying to retrieve baby August’s pacifier from Ladybug, he had seen the pink glow on Marinette's balcony. He had frozen, not wanting her to see him as he peeked through the railing and he was confronted with the fact that the love of his life was his very good friend, Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

So, yeah, he was a little bit confused, and a lot conflicted about what to do next. He was sure Ladybug and he were soulmates, but he wasn't even sure what Marinette was really like. She behaved so differently around him than she did their friends, and then there was the whole third different behaviour as Ladybug.

But he had sworn that he would love the girl behind the mask, no matter what, so he was going to do his best to woo his good friend soulmate. The first thing he would have to do was talk to Alya and Nino, get them on board with any plans moving forward. Then he would have to start distancing himself from Kagami so that his lady didn't think he was unavailable.

_ _ _ 

Marinette was stressing out. The girls had been haranguing her about Adrien's fifth name’s day for a few weeks and it was now approaching fast. She had stopped writing down every little thing about him, had stopped pre-making presents that would never be given, and she was trying to take training with Master Fu seriously. But every time she thought she'd escaped it, she was pulled back in.

“Lil M!” Marinette jumped when Jagged came into the apartment, trailed by Penny who seemed to be on the phone again. “Hey Rockette, I have a favour to ask from you, but I've gotta say upfront that it's totally rock n roll if you say no.”

“Oh, hey Uncle J,” she said weakly, putting down the rolling pin from her stress baking. “You know I'm usually good for a favour, what do you need? A new album cover, a new jacket…”

“Well, my old friend Bruce is in town and his kids are pretty big fans of mine. A couple of them are obsessed with meeting you, and asked if I could convince you to come to dinner at their hotel?” He had big round eyes trained on her, almost pouting in his bid to get her to say yes.

“Sure thing Jagged,” she said easily, resuming the highly therapeutic mission of rolling out the pie crust. She hummed along agreeably as he told her the details for that evening, as well as piling compliments onto her. She was beginning to get suspicious that the family she was being introduced to was not going to be as delightful as he was making it seem.

When she was done baking - which took even longer because now she had to make macarons for the meal that night - she went upstairs to change into different clothes. She surveyed her wardrobe, pulling and discarding everything until she came across a couple of dresses that she had made when she found out that Jagged was from Gotham, AKA the crime and vigilante capital of the US.

She pulled out a dress inspired by Batgirl, purple with striking yellow details, and one designed after Robin, with muted and complimentary colours as opposed to the train wreck the actual vigilante wore. She debated for several long minutes before deciding that purple was Jagged's colour, so she should wear the red, yellow and green one. 

She checked the time, realised that she was on time for once and grabbed her things. She let Tikki slide into a clutch bag she had made (black with tiny bat symbols embroidered across it), grabbed the cookie boxes and headed out of the door.

_ _ _

Damian was bored. His father had dragged both him and Tim to Paris so that they could do some ‘family bonding’. It was absurd, and he wanted nothing more than to sulk in the room he had been given at the Grand Paris Hotel. Unfortunately, Bruce had already made plans for them that evening with an old schoolmate of his. 

Tim had been pathetically excited that his idol, Jagged Stone, was going to be coming to dinner. The sleep deprived buffoon had immediately started word vomiting about how amazing his music was, and about the designer that Jagged often promoted as the only one allowed to design for him any more.

“Damian, I know that you're not looking forward to this meal,” Bruce sighed, leaning against the door frame just outside of the room. Damian snorted in response, glaring at the suit jacket Tim was insisting he had to wear to impress a world famous designer. “Please, I just want you both to get along this evening. Jagged is an old friend, and his designer is apparently very dear to him. I would like to get to know her and catch up with my friend.”

“Tt, I shall behave myself, father,” Damian grumbled, snatching up the jacket and artfully mussing his hair until it was perfectly nonchalant. “I am going to scout the restaurant and ensure that there are no nasty surprises waiting for us.”

And he was out of the suite before Bruce could protest. He was full of energy, having used the flight to rest adequately, in direct opposition to Tim who had decided that eight hour flights were designed so that he could work uninterrupted by other employees. As he descended the staircase to the main atrium, his eyes snagged on a blonde girl who appeared to be shouting at a smaller Asian girl with black hair.

Knowing that negative emotions could mean an attack from the local villain - see, Drake, he could pay attention - he was about to step in when he eyed what the smaller girl was wearing - and almost stumbled down the stairs. The dress was predominately black, but sheer colored fabric had been used to subtly imbue it with a shimmer of colour. The skirt flared out, catching the light and turning a deep emerald green, the bodice a gorgeous blood red with black embroidered ‘R’s across it. 

To complete the look, she was wearing a hooded jacket that had a yellow lining, not unlike his cape. But the yellow was much subtler than the canary yellow that was traditional for Robin. She was wearing (presumably) thigh high boots that disappeared into the skirt and his heart hammered in his chest painfully. When he finally got a look at her face, which was scrunched into a pretty scowl, he saw that she had done artfully messy, dark makeup, emulating a domino mask whilst still being classy.

He didn't move closer to the girl until the blonde one - Chloé Bourgeois, his mind supplied helpfully - stalked away and the girl with the Robin dress smirked after her. He approached her as she fiddled with the pastry box she was carrying, and tried not to let it show that he was nervous.

“Good evening,” he said smoothly, wondering if he would be fortunate enough to get her name. She hardly glanced at him, pulling out her phone to send a message. He had the feeling that she was using it as an excuse so that she could deter him without having to say anything. “Apologies for the intrusion, but I could not help noticing that you are wearing a dress inspired by Robin, the Gotham vigilante.”

“You recognise it?” She demanded gleefully, abandoning the pretense that she was invested in whatever reply she was awaiting. Her eyes were a startling blue that practically glowed from within the smokey eye makeup, and he had to work extremely hard not to let his breathing stop and give away just how affected he was by this girl.

“Tt, I am from Gotham, Robin is one of the vigilantes there so I would be remiss if I did not recognise his suit,” he replied, praying she didn't think he was insulting her. He didn't know how to do this, he had never wanted to show an interest in another person before. “I did not think that people in Paris were particularly interested in vigilantes, given they have their own heroes.”

“Oh, yeah, I mean generally that's true, I guess? But my uncle is from Gotham so when I found out, I just had to look up more about them. My favourites are Robin, obviously, and Batgirl. But for the colour scheme, I have to say I prefer the original Batgirl’s costume - purple and yellow is so iconic!”

Damian was stunned momentarily, unsure how to take the conversation forward. As it was, he was very close to blushing, which would be extremely odd. But she seemed content to chatter away, gesturing to different parts of the outfit. Sadly, they were interrupted by a man dressed in black and yellow, with purple hair, who launched himself upon the girl.

“Jagged, stop!” The girl whined, a giggle ruining the playful annoyance in her voice. “It was very nice to meet you, monsieur, I'm sorry for talking your ear off about clothes. As my uncle here can attest, I can get a little carried away.”

“Tt, you hardly need apologise, I enjoyed hearing about the stitching technique you used to connect the skirt to the top of your outfit,” Damian said, gaining him an appraising look from the other man. The girl beamed at him, the smile making his insides feel mushy.

“Rock on, Lil M, you already found one of our dinner mates! You are one of Brucie's bunch, right?” The man, apparently Jagged Stone, asked. Damian nodded, realising that the girl he had been speaking to must be the designer that Tim was so obsessed with. “So, which one are you?”

“Damian,” he said, holding his hand out to Jagged to greet him properly. “It is a pleasure to meet you both. My brother, Timothy, is a fan of both of your works.”

“I’m Marinette, it's nice to meet you too,” the girl, Marinette, said when he turned to greet her as well. She ignored his hand in favour of kissing his cheek with une bise, and he felt warmth flood his face. “How lucky that you came over to say hello! I wasn't sure how punctual any friends of Jagged's would be,” she said pointedly, quirking an eyebrow at the man in question.

“Hey, be fair! I'm earlier than Bruce and the rest of his bunch,” Jagged replied, holding a hand to his chest in mock aggravation. “Speaking of which, I'm going to see if I can surprise him in his room, where will I find him, kid?”

Damian recited the room number, amused that Bruce's friend was so exuberant. He turned back to Marinette, fully intending on getting to know her better before the others joined them.

Meanwhile, Marinette was trying to squash the butterflies that were erupting in her stomach. When the boy, Damian, had first approached her she had groaned internally, not wanting to have to politely tell him to leave. But then he had asked about her dress and she couldn't help herself - she had practically bombarded him with everything she was proud of in this particular piece. Which usually has the same outcome as politely telling a guy to get lost, but then Jagged had interrupted and he had said something that sounded like he had been listening.

Pretty boys with green eyes were already a weakness for her, she knew that. But a pretty boy with green eyes and he indulged her rambling about fashion? She had the horrible feeling that she was already a goner. It didn't help that she had been falling out of love with Adrien ever since his dumb high road advice.

“So you design for Jagged Stone,” Damian said, clearly attempting to restart a conversation. She nodded enthusiastically, giving him a brief history of her work with the eccentric musician. He asked intelligent questions and she felt herself losing the battle not to like him.

She had all but forgotten that they were supposed to be getting dinner with other people when Jagged came back over with two other men, dressed impeccably in black suit jackets. The older of the two was wearing a very traditional slim tie and shirt but the younger had coupled his suit jacket with a band tee that she recognised as the one matching the album she had designed.

“Good evening, I'm so sorry we kept you waiting,” the older man, Bruce, said, stepping forward smoothly to offer her his hand. He was a little further away, so she had to step away from Damian to do so, after which the younger man, Timothy, stepped into the space to introduce himself as well. “Damian, I just needed to speak with you about something, could we step aside before dinner?”

Damian grimaced internally, although externally he merely nodded and excused himself quietly. He had the suspicion that his father was offering him an escape from having to deal with a stranger and didn't know how to explain that he was fine without embarrassing himself.

“I'm sorry, Damian, Jagged has always been notoriously late before so I didn't think anything of it until he came up to our room and said he'd left you alone with his designer,” Bruce said apologetically, giving him a quick once over. 

“It was fine, father, Jagged Stone's designer was explaining some of the techniques she had used to complete her outfit,” Damian replied, making sure to school his features into casual boredom. Until he knew what she thought of him, he would keep his interest in the girl to himself. “We are keeping your guests waiting, should we not rejoin them?”

Without waiting for a response, he turned on his heel and strode back over to the other three. To his dismay, Tim was engaging Marinette in an animated conversation about her best works and was much better versed in fashion terminology than Damian. His stomach dropped when she gave a laugh that sounded like bells chiming and touched Tim's arm.

“Rock on, are we ready to get some food? I'm famished,” Jagged said, throwing an arm over Marinette's shoulder. “Besides, I haven't seen any of you in ages, I've gotta tell you all about the crazy stuff that's happened. Especially you, Bruce - if you thought Gotham had crazy villains, you should hear about Hawkmoth.”

“Uncle J, I don't think your guests want to hear about how crazy it is in Paris. Besides, Damian already mentioned Paris’ heroes so they probably already know about Hawkmoth,” Marinette said, glancing at Damian with a small smile.

“You talked about the heroes?” Tim asked, and Damian assumed he was alarmed, thinking that Damian had betrayed their interest in the situation as vigilantes. Scowling, Damian gave a brief nod but said nothing. He found himself unable to sit next to Marinette but instead was placed in the seat opposite her.

“Oh, it was my fault,” Marinette said with good humour. She gestured to her dress before removing her jacket and sitting down. “He recognised the vigilante I styled my outfit after. As soon as I found out where Jagged was from I checked out the city protectors and fell in love!”

“That's very interesting,” Bruce said, amusement lacing his tone as he gave Damian a look. Tim was choking on the water he had sipped, but waved off Marinette's concern. “But yes, we are aware of the Parisian heroes. We didn't want to come to a city without being prepared, an unfortunate side effect from living in Gotham.”

“Ah, that's a shame! Marinette here is part of what we like to call the Akuma class, she's probably got some crazy stories from the front line. Hell, remember when I came to do that show in your bakery, M? Poor Penny completely trashed the place after Alec blasted those pictures of-”

“Okay, yes, thank you, Jagged! I very much doubt anyone here needs to know about my embarrassing collection of magazine covers,” Marinette said, glancing at Damian and flushing slightly. His heart thudded painfully again, although his stomach removed itself from the region of his feet. “Anyway, we were moving on from crazy supervillains as a topic, right?”

“Yeah, alright,” Jagged said, although he sent a sharp look Damian’s way, which said he wasn't as air-headed as he had seemed. “Hey, did you know that there's a soup named after Marinette here? It used to be called celestial soup, but her great uncle renamed it after she helped him with a competition.”

Marinette felt like she was sitting with her Papa, Jagged was bragging about her accomplishments so much. She tried to sneak glances at Damian without being noticed, but every time she looked at him his gaze found hers, and she felt a familiar swoop in her stomach. By the end of the meal, she was so embarrassed she wanted the ground to swallow her whole. 

“Well, as fun as this has been, Lil M here has school tomorrow, so she should probably head on home. Do you want me to call you a cab or anything?” 

“I'll be fine, Jagged,” Marinette said, rolling her eyes and shrugging back into her jacket. The lining felt cool on her skin, which helped the anxious nerves settle. Jagged nodded, giving her a hug before sitting back down and chatting with Bruce about how different Paris was to Gotham.

She was surprised but pleased when Damian stood as well, offering to see her out of the hotel. She didn't miss the concerned looks that Tim and Bruce exchanged but decided to ignore them. They walked slowly through the much quieter lobby, Marinette wanting to extend her time with him as much as possible.

“It has been a pleasant evening in your company, Marinette,” Damian said as they slowed to a stop just shy of the doors. She beamed as she blushed again, nodding enthusiastically. “And…I hope it is not too forward of me, but I would like to see you again whilst I am still in Paris.”

“I would love that,” she squeaked, nearly dropping her phone as she pulled it from the clutch she was carrying. She offered it to him and he reciprocated by handing her his. Joy bubbled in her veins as she went to take a selfie to put as her contact picture, but he stopped her.

“May I take a picture of you in your outfit?” He asked, a light flush across his cheekbones the only sign that he was affected by her. She nodded dumbly, trying not to smile manically as she posed for a photo. Her half smile was on his face as he showed it to her, setting it as the picture for her profile. “I wish you did not have to go, but I understand the need to attend school. Will you inform me when you reach your home safely?”

Marinette promised she would, giggling happily as she walked away from the hotel.

_ _ _

Bruce was nervous about Damian following Marinette out of the room, but couldn't do anything without alerting Jagged to this concern. Tim was almost asleep now that the excitement of meeting Jagged and his designer had faded, so he couldn't subtly suggest that he check on them either. 

The minutes dragged torturously, the acceptable amount of time for a polite farewell coming and going. He glanced at his watch apprehensively, and Jagged laughed aloud, making Tim jerk out of the light doze he had fallen into.

“Something on your mind, Brucie?” The musician asked, propping his head up on his hand. Bruce gave him a tight smile, wondering what to say that wouldn't alarm his old friend. He was saved from having to when Jagged chuckled again. “Look, I know they're kids, but Marinette's got a good head on her shoulders. She's not going to seduce the little guy and corrupt him, promise.”

Tim gave a shocked giggle, stuffing his knuckles into his mouth to stifle them. Jagged looked at him, amused, before turning back to a Bruce who just looked tired. Before Bruce could reply in any capacity Damian finally returned, and Tim gave up the fight against his laughter, curling up and wheezing.

“Is Drake having some sort of episode?” Damian said, brow furrowed. Tim gasped for air and pointed at him, which only made him scowl uncertainly. “Father, when was the last time he slept? And how much caffeine has he consumed since then?”

“N- no, sorry, I'm sorry,” Tim gasped, finally managing to pull himself out of his laughing fit just long enough to choke the words out. But then he looked at Damian again and dissolved once more. “C- corrupt…s-s-seduce…”

“It isn't important, Damian,” Bruce said decisively, which made Jagged bark out a laugh as well. Damian took his seat, looking irritated and unamused. Bruce sighed, not wanting to get into the full conversation with Damian until Jagged was gone, but knowing that his son would be a grouchy mess until it was addressed. “Jagged was just saying that Marinette is a good kid, and that I shouldn't be worried about you spending time with her.”

“Ah hell, M’s so much more than just a good kid! She's practically an angel! I mean, she's designed for me, but she babysits too, she helps her parents with the bakery, she's top of her class…like, the list goes on but I digress. Pretty sure my kid has a thing for her, but I haven't talked to them about it.”

“Tt, whilst I appreciate your concern, father, I am capable of choosing who I will spend time with by myself,” Damian said, unruffled by the conversation topic. “Now, it is late and I would like to rest before we tour the buildings tomorrow, may I be excused?”

As soon as Bruce agreed, Damian bid them all goodnight and headed to his room. He prepared for bed, checking his phone periodically even though he had set it to loud while waiting for Marinette to inform him that she was home safe. It wasn't until he was settled on his bed with a book that the notification of a new message sounded.

Hey Damian, this is Marinette! Just letting you know that I'm home safe :-) let me know when you're free and we'll hang, okay? Xoxo

A rare grin lit his face for a moment, before he messaged her back with the plans for his week in Paris. He would have free time every afternoon, and Marinette said that Wednesdays were a half-day at school, so she would be more than happy to spend time with him then. He bid her goodnight and she sent back a heart emoji, effectively ending their brief exchange.

_ _ _

When Marinette had agreed to make the costumes and help with the set for Kitty Section, she had been determined to help them win first place in the contest. So she had worked tirelessly to ensure the costumes were perfect, fitting and re-fitting the whole band countless times.

On the weekend of filming, Damian was on his last day in Paris and asked if he could see her before he went. She wanted to - their kind of date on Wednesday had been amazing, and they'd only done a walking tour of the city - but she'd made the commitment to her friends. She decided to call him and explain the situation, because she didn't want him to think she was blowing him off.

“Marinette?” He said when he picked up, his voice low and tinged with concern. “Is everything alright?”

“Hey Dami, I'm fine,” she said, hauling the trunk of costumes out of the bakery and taking a break before walking it to the boat on the Seine. “Sorry for calling instead of texting, I just have my hands a little full. I have plans already for today; I'm helping my friends’ band with a music video they're making for a competition.”

“You need not apologise, Marinette, we have not known each other long and I have already been fortunate enough to see you several times this week,” he assured her. Warmth spread through her, partially from the heavy chest, but mostly from how straightforward he was with her. “I will not lie to you, I would have liked to see you again before I go home, but it is hardly like I will not see you again.”

“What time are you flying out?” She asked wistfully, stopping on the shore next to the houseboat. She sighed when he told her that he was leaving for the airport at midday, and said that she would have to try video calling him when time allowed. “But at least we can message each other any time.”

“Indeed. Now, enjoy your time with your friends and I shall speak to you again soon.” Sighing again, she called out to the band, hugging Mylene and Rose when they came out to her. Luka smiled at her, but stayed on the stage strumming.

When they finished recording and editing, Marinette saw that it was 11:30. Shouting quick goodbyes to everyone, she raced over to the hotel. She was breathless when she arrived at 11:45, but it meant that she should have at least ten minutes to say goodbye to Damian.

Rushing over to the front desk, she asked if they could send a message up to the American visitor Damian (why hadn't she asked for his surname?) and sent a text as well, just to be safe. It took a few minutes but then he appeared in the lobby and shot her a crooked smile. 

“I am very glad that you completed your tasks early, Marinette,” he said, brushing some flyaway hairs out of her eyes. Her heart hammered, refusing to slow down even though she had been standing still for several minutes. “May I kiss you?”

“God yes,” she whimpered, grabbing onto his lapels and pulling him down. He kissed back earnestly, cupping her cheek with one hand as she wound her arms around his neck. She tentatively pushed her hands into his hair and was rewarded when he made a soft noise of contentment. 

They stood like that for several minutes before slowing and separating. The same crooked smile he had given her when he had seen her a few minutes ago lit up his face and she smiled goofily up at him. They murmured gently to each other, promising to stay in touch and see each other as often as possible.

“I know it's kind of extremely early to ask this, but will you be my boyfriend?” Marinette asked when he begrudgingly reminded her that he had only a few minutes until his father and brother would be joining him to return home. She was relieved when his crooked smile transformed into a full blown grin.

“I would love to be your boyfriend, Marinette. I would much prefer to remain here with you in Paris, but I must return home and to my responsibilities,” he said regretfully. She sighed and buried her face in his chest, holding him tightly.

“Damian, are you ready to go?” Bruce had arrived and Damian reluctantly released her. She blushed at the man, stammering a greeting and farewell and he smiled at her. “It's been a pleasure to meet you Marinette. If you ever come to Gotham, feel free to come to Wayne Enterprises and we can give you a tour.”

“...Wayne Enterprises as in, Wayne Fashion?” She said eventually, turning to stare at Damian. Bruce watched as his son flushed pink and muttered something unintelligible under his breath. He had to fight back his own astonishment that the girl apparently hadn't known who she was having dinner with a few nights ago.

“Why would I have known?” She squeaked when he voiced the thought. “Jagged just said his friend from school was coming to visit and he wanted to introduce me! I- this is going to take me a minute,” she confessed, darting and apologetic glance at Damian.

To Bruce's surprise, Damian looked worried, his face filled with tight lines. He had never seen his son hesitate before, or worry that his name would change the opinion someone had of him, but that was clearly what was happening. Marinette's crisis was cut short when Tim joined them and the car for the airport pulled up.

Damian pulled Marinette away from his family while they put the luggage in the car, wanting to ensure that things were alright between them. She had already calmed down considerably which was a positive sign.

“Marinette, I am sorry I did not tell you sooner. I assumed you were already aware of our family name. I hope that this does not change-” he was cut off abruptly when Marinette grabbed him in a tight embrace.

“It doesn't change anything,” she swore confidently, pulling back from the hug and gripping his hand. “If you're fine with dating a daughter of two bakers, I think I can find it in me to date the son of a millionaire.”

“Tt, billionaire,” he corrected automatically, flushing when she gave a strangled giggle. Tim gave a warning shout that they needed to leave and he glared in the direction of the car. “May I call you when I am safely home?”

“Damian, as my boyfriend you can call me whenever you want,” she said, before letting him walk over to the car. He felt a little hollow and disappointed that this was goodbye for now, but his duties as Robin had to come first. 

_ _ _

Marinette spent the next few days fuelled by the joy of knowing Damian felt the same way she did. They had messaged back and forth several times, even occasionally calling. They talked about anything and everything, Marinette finding him to be practical but compassionate about her problems.

On the Wednesday after they had submitted the competition video, Marinette was hanging out with Kitty Section on the houseboat when Ivan called for everyone's attention. In numb outrage, they watched XY’s new music video - a direct copy of their submission.

Taking their complaint to the filming studio, Marinette and Luka snuck inside while the rest of Kitty Section caused a distraction. Once inside, Bob Roth proceeded to tear into the pair, threatening their futures and, specifically, Marinette's future as a designer. She didn't notice Luka getting angry until he was enveloped in harsh purple light, transforming into Silencer.

He stole XY's voice and turned to Marinette, promising to help her stay safe and protect her artistic integrity. Then he told her, “You’re an extraordinary girl, Marinette. As clear as a musical note, and as sincere as a melody.” She blushed for a few moments before shaking it off and going to transform. 

The battle against Silencer was difficult, and only made harder by Bob Roth. She did eventually defeat him, but all it meant was that she was back in the same position she had been before the akumatisation. Unless…

Her usual quick thinking and the assistance of Luka resulted in Bob being forced to admit that he had tried to steal their ideas. Transforming back, Marinette rushed back to Luka and cheered happily that they had won. She had decided that she would ignore what Luka had said under the influence of the akuma, given that she didn't want anything more than friendship with him.

But then as they were separating, he said the same thing again, and it left her uncomfortable. She didn't manage to say anything back, but he didn't seem to be expecting an answer. She immediately messaged Damian, wanting to let him know what Luka had said.

She was comforted by his no nonsense view on the matter, seeming more concerned that she had been caught up in an akuma attack. She assured him that she was fine, and that Ladybug had saved the day as usual. He asked a few questions about how she had done it, and Marinette had to carefully dodge any potential pitfalls that would show she knew too much.

Damian ended the call feeling even more determined to help end the threat of Hawkmoth. He had wanted to help as soon as he found out that there was an emotional terrorist causing havoc in Paris, but now that he knew Marinette…it was imperative that the Justice League meet with the heroes and offer whatever help they could.

Striding into his father's office, he waited patiently to be seen. He tried to structure his concerns in a way that wouldn't immediately make his father suspicious. He did not want his family to pry into his relationship with Marinette, especially as they did not think he was capable of one.

“What can I do for you, Damian?” Bruce eventually said, looking up from his work. Damian steeled himself and launched into his speech about helping the Parisian heroes. Bruce listened without interrupting, nodding along until Damian ran out of things to say. Finally, Bruce steepled his fingers and gazed thoughtfully at the young vigilante. “I see, and who would you suggest I send to Paris?”

“Drake has an analytical mind that would likely be the biggest benefit as both Ladybug and Chat Noir seem to be competent enough in battle. Training would not go amiss, however, so someone should go with him.” He stopped himself from volunteering immediately even though he was sure his father would know that was the only reason he would be talking about it.

“Alright, so given what we know about Hawkmoth's abilities anyone too volatile is out of the question. So Jason will have to sit out a long-term placement in Paris. Dick has his family to think about, which would only make him moody to be separated from them. Steph and Tim have a history that makes me hesitant to send her with him to a city besieged by an emotional terrorist.”

“Cain has responsibilities in Hong Kong, she would be too distracted to train them sufficiently,” Damian added, warming to the task of shutting down the possibilities of someone other than him going. “You are essential to the welfare of Gotham, so that is out of the question, as is anyone with powers such as any of the Kents.”

“But Duke’s powers are actually potentially helpful,” Bruce countered, looking thoughtful. Damian tried not to freeze or scowl. He thought desperately for a rebuttal, a reason that Duke would have to sit it out and came up blank. 

“Thomas is…an adequate choice,” Damian admitted at last, trying to avoid glaring but only half succeeding. “It would be beneficial to all involved if we verified that his powers would be useful before he uproots his life in Gotham, however. Perhaps he and Drake could visit as their alternative selves via zeta tube and make contact with the duo?”

“That sounds reasonable,” Bruce replied, nodding to himself. Damian held himself stiff and waited to be dismissed. “Of course, there is this akuma class that Jagged and Marinette mentioned, it could be useful to have someone in the classroom itself to investigate…do you think Duke could pass as a fifteen-year-old?”

“Tt, that hardly seems necessary,” Damian said, working to calm his now racing heart. If he played this correctly, he would be able to go to Paris regardless of whether Duke went as well. “I am in that curricular age bracket and I am more than competent enough to investigate.”

“And what of the emotionally stable requirement?” If this were a less important conversation, Damian would have been offended. As it was, he gave the question as much clinical consideration as was possible. 

“I am capable of managing my emotions, I have grown plenty since Mother allowed me to stay in Gotham,” he said eventually, pleased that his voice was level. “It would also be a good test of my own capacity. In addition, I have already spent a week in Paris and went without Akumatisation the entire time, despite spending ample time with Drake.”

“But not around children your own age,” Bruce countered again, forcing Damian to swallow a growl. “You're not best known for dealing well with people who approach you because of your name, and that could cause an akumatisation of someone else.”

“Then send me under an assumed name, ostensibly so that I am protected whilst away from you,” Damian said immediately, pleased with his own quick thinking. At Bruce's raised eyebrows he soldiered on. “The only person with any knowledge of my identity is Marinette who would likely not give that information away if we requested it in advance.”

Bruce stayed silent for several minutes, clearly mulling all of this over. When he finally nodded, Damian allowed a small smirk to flit across his features, before schooling his expression back into solemnity.

“Very well, a team of three. I like the idea of sending you through the Zeta tubes first, and we may well do that for several nights in a row to give the illusion that you're all still in Gotham as civilians. And then a couple of nights of no activity at that end when you arrive as Damian but Robin back in Gotham would cement it quite nicely. Okay, yes let's tell the team.”

_ _ _

Adrien walked into collége with a spring in his step. So far, he hadn't had time to wow Marinette with his charm and wit - he had researched so many non-cat puns - but he was confident that he would be able to get Alya and Nino on his side. He had vague recollections of Alya forcing him to dance with Marinette at Chloé's disastrous party, so he was pretty confident that she wanted them to double date.

But when he arrived in their classroom, Alya and Nino were talking in hushed tones. Marinette still hadn't appeared, but that wasn't unusual, so Adrien made his way to his desk and turned to talk to the pair.

“I'm telling you, Marinette's been smiling at her phone and she's practically glued to it these days! And Juleka said that he confessed to her during the whole Silencer debacle,” Alya insisted, showing a picture of Marinette gazing lovingly at her phone.

“Who confessed to Marinette?” Adrien asked, suddenly apprehensive. He felt even more worried when Alya and Nino exchanged a look.

“Dude, you remember Juleka’s brother, Luka? Apparently he told Marinette he was into her when he was akumatised into Silencer,” Nino said, shrugging uncomfortably. “And Mari’s been acting kind of strange lately, haven't you noticed? She looks at her phone all the time, and someone's messaging her loads.”

“Yeah, and my girl definitely thought he was cute, I remember when she met him. She was blushy and stammered a bunch,” Alya added, although she shut up as Marinette rushed in. “Hey Marinette!”

“Hey Alya! I can't believe how late I was running today,” Marinette groaned, laying her head down on the desk. “And before you say it, yes I know it's my own fault for staying up late.”

“Hey dudette,” Nino said, but Madame Bustier appeared before Adrien could give his own greeting. He turned to face the front uneasily, wondering if he had already missed his chance to woo Ladybug's civilian identity.

The day dragged on, and when he returned after lunch he spotted Marinette smiling at her phone and decided he had to know. Strolling casually towards her, he leaned down to talk to her.

“Hey Mari,” he said cheerily, trying to get a sneaky glance at her phone but she squeaked and pulled it out of sight too quickly. “You looked happy, were you messaging Luka?”

“Luka? Why would I be messaging Luka?” Marinette looked guilty and Adrien's stomach clenched. He forced a smile onto his face, trying to look like he wasn't panicking.

“Oh, Alya just mentioned that you were maybe dating him…”

“No, I- I'm not dating Luka,” she said slightly hesitantly. She bit her lip and Adrien wondered if she wished she was.

“Okay, well that's…that's great,” he said, smiling a little more naturally. “So I was wondering if maybe-”

He was interrupted by the bell and he frowned at the sudden bustle behind him. Marinette’s phone buzzed again but she didn't open whatever message it was in front of him. Instead, she suggested that they head into class, only pulling her phone out stealthily once they were seated.

Adrien frowned and all but ignored the lesson. If he couldn't find time to bring it up as Adrien, he would just have to work harder to convince her as Ladybug.

_ _ _

Robin stood on the threshold of the Watchtower Zeta tube with anticipation pooling in his stomach. He was determined to impress the Parisian heroes and prove Jason's ominous prediction, that he would be akumatised within the hour and decimate the Parisian team, wrong

“Okay, so remember, this is a pretty simple recon mission and to extend the olive branch and our offer of aid to Ladybug and Chat Noir. If they decline, we're out and no arguing. The last thing they need is for one of us to get akumatised because we can't take no for an answer,” Red Robin reminded them for the third time.

“We get it, Red,” Signal said, shaking his head in exasperation. Robin worked on not adding his own vocal frustration and was rewarded by Red Robin nodding and stepping through to Paris. 

Standing in an alley, they got their bearings and shot off to find the local heroes. It was late evening and Robin managed to glimpse Marinette's balcony as they grappled past. The lights were on and he could see the flicker of movement as she did something. He thought he saw a shift of her curtain before they completely passed but couldn't justify stopping.

They settled on the Eiffel Tower and ended up only waiting for around ten minutes before a red and black blur flipped and landed in front of them. She eyed them suspiciously for a moment but then confusion crossed her face.

“Um, hello,” she said hesitantly, giving Robin a look that made him sure she recognised him. Sometimes it was worth being dressed in…how had Marinette said it?...oh, yes, traffic stoppingly bright colours. “To what do I owe the pleasure of meeting some of Gotham's heroes?”

“We're here to offer our assistance,” Red Robin said, smiling at the girl. “I'm sorry it's taken so long for us to come, we weren't really aware that there was anything amiss to begin with. And then Batman wanted to check things out before we reached out.”

“Wow, seriously? I would love some help! I've been trying to track down Hawkmoth but it's been- God, it's freaking sucked. It's messing with my civilian life and I kind of have a lot on my plate, so any help you can give would be incredible.”

“Of course,” Red Robin said, smiling at the French heroine. “I'm Red Robin, this is Signal and this is-”

“Robin, yes,” she interrupted nodding. “I recognised the, ah, interestingly bright colours. They are not exactly subtle shades.”

“Tt, the colours are a tradition,” Robin said, grumbling slightly. It felt strange to discuss the colours of his suit with someone who also wore a shockingly bright suit. But he kept to his word and avoided sniping back an insult.

“Yeah, my fr- boyfriend is from Gotham and explained it to me,” she said, blushing lightly and smiling softly. Something inside Damian felt like it had received an electric shock. It could be a coincidence that this dark-haired, blue-eyed hero had a boyfriend in Gotham but… “I still think that you could do something slightly different with it though. There are other shades of yellow, red, and green that don't stop traffic.”

The rest of the encounter felt like white noise to Damian. He found himself watching Ladybug intently, noting small tics that he had noticed in Marinette during their brief time together so far. She was expressive with her hands. She twirled her pigtail around a finger when thinking. 

How had he managed to travel across the world, meet someone and they turned out to be a hero? In some ways it was baffling, but in others made complete sense. Of course his girlfriend was a selfless, heroic girl who spent what very little spare time she had battling the forces of evil. He could only be interested in the very best.

Fortunately, nobody seemed to notice his distraction and Ladybug thanked them before zipping away - in the direction of Marinette's home. Hm, it appears he would need to speak with her about obscuring her destination.

_ _ _

The next week passed fairly quickly, but Damian was also exhausted by the end of it. Between traveling back and forth to Paris via Zeta tube, organising all paperwork to transfer to Francois DuPont, and plotting how to tell Marinette her secret was out, he scarcely had time to sleep.

It was a relief to land in Paris on a Saturday evening and head straight to the apartment that Bruce had procured for the three of them. He immediately set down his suitcase and pulled out his phone to let Marinette know that he had arrived. He received a dozen or so heart emojis in return, making him smile.

He sent a follow up text asking if she would join him the following day to collect his French phone, ready for school first thing on Monday, which she also agreed to enthusiastically. He tucked the phone away as he prepared to meet with Ladybug again, wishing he could tell her who he was and that he knew who she was.

The trip to the Eiffel Tower was uneventful and they set up the laptop and paper notes about their investigation so that they could do a further deep dive. Since they had discovered that Signal could only see an energy signature when Ladybug used her lucky charm, they couldn't use him to quickly locate Hawkmoth when he was powered up but not actively evilising a butterfly.

“...a chance, Bugaboo!” The sound of Chat Noir’s voice carried over to them from nearby and three heads turned towards it. “I think we would make a purr-fect couple, M'lady, but it won't happen if you keep pretending you're not even curious.”

“Chat, I told you that there was another boy,” Robin's fist unclenched from his katana’s hilt but he glared in the direction of the voices as Chat made a dismissive noise. “No, Chat, I'm serious, there's this boy-”

“Yes yes, that you like, but you shouldn't be closing off your options like that! I'm just saying that you should consider me as well,” Chat said, fairly condescendingly as far as Robin was concerned. Unsheathing his katana, he jumped across to where they were standing.

“If Ladybug said no, she would have meant it,” he said in clipped tones. He noted Ladybug's - Marinette's - shoulders relaxed when he arrived and had to wrestle back his anger. The last thing they needed was for Robin to get akumatised. “We have been waiting for you to arrive to debrief and discuss next steps.”

“Sorry, Robin, we're coming,” Ladybug said immediately, following him back to the other side of the Tower. She flitted to stand between Red Robin and Signal who both gave Chat Noir disapproving looks. “So, the list of suspects is ready?”

“Yes, we have been cross-referencing the different affluent men in Paris who have the time and resources to spend time as Hawkmoth,” Robin said, staying beside Chat even though he would have rather been beside Ladybug.

It was nearly an hour later that they all agreed they had done as much as they could. Dutifully, Red Robin reminded the duo that the team would be traveling back to Gotham the next day for a few days but then would be back in Paris to really get stuck in.

Ladybug thanked them all before shooting off to get home. Damian noted that she went off in a different direction this time, and wondered if she changed which way she went each time to help confuse anyone watching.

_ _ _

Marinette waited on a bench in the park outside her home, picking at her fingers. She hadn't seen Damian in person since he had left Paris to go home and she was worried he would change his mind once he saw her again. She had agonized over her outfit before deciding to wear the new shirt she had designed and created specifically so she could show it to him.

“Marinette, apologies for my lateness.” Damian appeared beside her silently, and she squealed before her phone went flying. With reflexes she couldn't have guessed he possessed, Damian caught her phone and placed it gently back into her hands. It had fallen to her other side so he was fully in her personal space, looking down into her eyes as she stammered a thank you.

There was a moment where neither of them moved, simply breathing the same air. And then her hands found their way to his collar and his lips crashed into hers. He kissed her hungrily, wrapping his arm around her waist to secure her against him. 

They kissed for several long moments, and Marinette got lost in running her fingers into his hair. It was reluctantly that she pulled away from him, grinning up at him. His eyes were gleaming and she giggled when he tried to straighten his hair. 

“We should go and get your phone,” she said at last, letting her hand trace his jaw. He shivered and Marinette felt a thrill at the simple fact that she affected her boyfriend. He hesitated for a moment before nodding and helping her stand.

Collecting his phone was an easy task and they chatted about him starting school with her the next day. He had already told her that he would be attending under a different surname, so she made sure she knew his cover name. 

As the day slipped into early evening, Marinette dragged him back to the Pont des Arts bridge to watch the sunset. She turned to look at him and paused. His eyes were hooded and his profile when he turned to look at her made her breath catch. She felt like she was unraveling a string, starting with the way he had approached her before dinner to talk about her Robin themed dress, to the verbal tic that he shared with said vigilante.

“Is everything alright?” He asked, his eyes full of concern. She stood on her tiptoes, pushing her hands back into his hair. He gave a crooked smile and leaned down to kiss her again, but she held him back slightly as she restyled his hair.

“Um, so I think I worked out something I wasn't supposed to,” she said in a hushed whisper, shooting him an apologetic wince. He froze but didn't say anything. His hand came up and pressed gently into the base of her spine. His fingers circled firmly, making her shudder and step even closer.

“I suppose that makes us even,” he replied, sounding amused more than angry. Then it was Marinette's turn to freeze, panic racing through her. “Marinette, breathe. I had intended to tell you shortly, but it is imperative that you do not allow yourself to panic.”

She breathed in shallowly but the panic simmered under the surface. Cursing lowly, Damian pulled her into a rough kiss and she felt like her nerve endings were completely fried. Her panic was swiftly replaced with a fluttering and she leaned into the kiss whole-heartedly.

When they broke apart this time, they were both breathing heavily. The panic Marinette had been feeling was muted, and she leaned her head against his shoulder as she tried to rein in her runaway thoughts.

“How long have you known?” She asked, tracing her fingers around one of his jacket buttons. She frowned lightly as he explained but didn't free-fall into panic this time. “This is going to take some time to get my head around.”

“Do you want me to…leave?” Damian asked, clearly reluctant, and she shook her head. The last thing she wanted was to be left alone with her thoughts. His whole body relaxed and the arm wrapped around her pressed her even closer. 

They didn't talk much more, choosing instead to just hold each other. 

_ _ _

The following day at school, Marinette pushed down the nervous excitement that made her stomach bubble. She knew that Damian would be on time, so she had made sure to wake up early and was already standing on the front steps. She hadn't even seen Max yet, and he was usually first through the doors.

She perked up when a car that she didn't recognise rolled up and was rewarded with the early morning sight of Damian in relaxed clothes. One of the conversations they had had the day prior was to say that he would be trying to distance his image from the public one of Damian Wayne so that he was less likely to be recognised.

“Good morning, Marinette,” he said as he approached her, giving her la bise on both cheeks. They had agreed to downplay their relationship for now to avoid awkward questions about how they had met, and she had never been more glad to have the excuse to kiss his cheeks.

“Morning, Damian,” she said back, beaming as he waited for Duke to park and rejoin him so that they could head to see Principal Damocles. When Duke arrived he gave Marinette a confused look but only greeted her cheerfully. “Good morning, Duke, right?”

“Yes, that's right,” he said and his eyes passed over her, focusing momentarily on the small pink bag by her hip. “And you must be Marinette, Tim mentioned you to us. I, uh, hope this isn't rude but are you aware that Damian is-”

“That this is Damian Thomas?” She interrupted, beaming up at him when he relaxed. “Yes, Damian made me aware and I agree that it's a smart move. I'm the class president of the class Damian will be in, so there should be no issue with him just sticking with me for the foreseeable future. Now, are you ready to meet Principal Damocles?”

They followed her into the building, Marinette chattering and pointing out the different classrooms on the next floor as they passed. Several students that had been milling around spotted the trio and an excited buzz kicked up, though Marinette dutifully ignored it.

“Mr Damocles, the new student and his guardian are here,” she said cheerfully when they were given permission to enter the office. 

“Wonderful, thank you, Marinette,” he said, dismissing her with a nod of his head. She backed out of the office, her hand giving Damian's a discreet squeeze on her way past.

When she entered the classroom, she was immediately bombarded with questions about Damian. Lila sat at the back, quiet for a change and Marinette avoided looking in her direction. When Adrien arrived, he seemed excited to hear that there would be a new student, and piped up that it was probably time to change seats again.

Marinette paused and thought it over, nodding along as she decided that it was the easiest way to let her sit next to Damian. There was a flurry of motion as everyone clamored to explain where they wanted to sit.

“You know, I know Lila said her tinnitus cleared up because of the miraculous cure, but I think it's more likely that she became accustomed to the noise,” she said aloud, feigning concern. Lila narrowed her eyes at her but she ignored it. “It would make sense for us to go with the original plan you all came up with, and then I can help the new kid, as class president.”

Everybody agreed enthusiastically, except for Adrien who looked disappointed. But then Madame Bustier had arrived and they were forced to settle into their new seats.

Meanwhile, Damian was being forced to listen to Principal Damocles drone on about how much the school valued teamwork and a cohesive student body. He danced around the subject of Hawkmoth which made Damian decide that he was weak-willed.

“Look, Damian, I know this is going to be difficult,” Duke said as they made their way to the classroom. “If it's easier for you to be your usual self, don't force yourself to be super friendly. It's normal for a kid that changed countries to be slightly closed off anyway.”

“Tt, I know what I am doing, Tho- Duke,” Damian said, grimacing slightly at using the man's given name. But it would be too suspicious if he was overheard given that they were supposed to have the same surname. 

“Another thing, I don't know what Marinette's got in her bag, but it's giving off insane amounts of energy. There might be more to her than meets the eye,” Duke said, checking his watch. He missed Damian's pause and the boy was back to behaving normally by the time he looked back. “Listen, I'll walk you in but then I've gotta jet.”

Standing in front of the class, Damian used his vantage point to remind himself of all who were in his new class. His eyes snagged on Marinette, who was sitting alone in the back of the classroom with the only available seat next to her.

“Welcome to our classroom, Damian!” Madame Bustier said in an almost unnaturally sweet voice. Forcing himself not to wince, he nodded and projected a cool but nervous aura. “Perhaps you could introduce yourself to the class, tell us a little about Damian Thomas?”

“... good morning, I am Damian. I will say now that I do not like nicknames, and as such will not respond to anything other than ‘Damian’. I am from New Jersey and elected to study abroad when my brother, Duke, was assigned here. I have already been acquainted with Marinette as she is the class representative and would ask that the rest of you give me space to adjust to the new class.”

The class all nodded, although the one sitting next to the blond model Agreste - Lila Rossi, Damian thought her name was - looked disappointed. Duke stayed until Damian was told to take his seat but then slipped away.

In the back of the classroom, Damian and Marinette sat quietly together exchanging notes and speaking softly. To anyone that asked, Damian said that Marinette was helping him adjust to the class and generally making the transition into the school as smooth as possible.

In reality, Damian was letting Marinette know that Duke had sensed a powerful being in her bag, presumably Tikki. If this was the case, then they were in a better position than they had originally believed, because Duke could investigate their various suspects and find the Kwami when they weren't suited up.

_ _ _

Adrien was irritated with the new kid. He knew that Marinette had responsibilities as class representative, but it grated on him that this Damian kid was monopolising his lady's time. And even though the boy was practically shunning the rest of the class, he didn't seem to be staying out of her space.

He grit his teeth when Damian leaned over Marinette during morning break and she flushed. He could see that Marinette was clearly uncomfortable, but he wouldn't get out of her space! Adrien decided that it was time for her knight in shining leather to make an appearance.

“Mari! I feel like we haven't spent enough time together in ages,” Adrien said, dropping into the seat on the other side of her. “Hi, I'm Adrien Agreste, one of Marinette's closest friends.”

“...a pleasure to meet you,” Damian responded stiffly, hand resting on the back of Marinette's chair as he leaned back. Marinette's blush receded almost immediately and Adrien patted himself on the back for saving her so quickly. “Marinette has been telling me about the various extra curriculars available at this school. She mentioned that you fence?”

“Aw, talking about me? I'm flattered,” Adrien replied, leaning towards Marinette. She didn't blush, making him feel smug that she wasn't uncomfortable around him. “Marinette did say that she was a fan before, I shouldn't be surprised that she would tell you all about me.”

“I was actually just mentioning it because Damian expressed an interest in swords,” Marinette interjected, flashing a look Adrien couldn't decipher at Damian. 

Just then Lila, Alya and Nino came over to the table as well. Lila automatically latched onto Adrien's arm, gripping him tightly. He had enough control not to grimace and instead plastered one of his model smiles across his face.

“It's so nice that we can all spend time together, isn't it Adrien?” Lila cooed before turning her eyes onto Damian. “I don't think I had the chance to introduce myself yet, I'm Lila Rossi! It's so lucky that I wasn't away with my mother and doing charity work, I would have hated to miss meeting you with everyone else.”

Adrien shot Marinette a look when hers soured, trying to remind her to take the high road, but she didn't look his way. Instead Damian stood abruptly, making Marinette look up at him, startled. 

“Apologies, I am still adjusting to the new school and this is too overwhelming,” he said, although his tone was flat rather than agitated. Marinette shot up as well, grabbing her bag and leading Damian away.

Adrien slumped a little, pouting at the fact that even though Damian had said he was overwhelmed Marinette had gone with the other boy.

_ _ _

“The problem is,” Marinette said, worrying her lip between her teeth, “that if I tell Duke what he saw so that he can find Hawkmoth, I reveal my identity. And you are literally one of two people who knows, which already feels pretty risky.”

“Then it is a case of whether the benefits outweigh the risks,” Damian murmured. It was lunchtime and they had secluded themselves in the library. With no prying eyes, Damian had pulled her close and buried his face in her neck.

In the short time he and Marinette had been spending time together, it had surprised him how much he enjoyed touching her casually. It had started as wanting to hold her hand and spiraled to wrapping his arms around her as much as he could.

“I know, I know,” she muttered back, frowning at her phone. “It's just…I've spent so long keeping my identity to myself, even from my partner. Having my boyfriend know is wildly different to telling other vigilantes.”

“But Th- Duke would be instrumental in taking action against Hawkmoth,” Damian pointed out. “And should we wish to continue this relationship, they will need to know at some point.”

“You’re right,” Marinette sighed, twisting her hands before running her hands along his arms. He pressed even closer to her, humming lightly as he pressed a kiss against her neck. “But if you don't want to blow your cover, we should probably get on with doing work here instead of cuddling.”

“I do not see why it should matter if people know I am enthralled by you,” Damian grumbled halfheartedly, though he did pull away. They spent the remainder of their lunch talking about their plans and how they would approach his brothers.

Their last lesson of the day went quickly and Marinette waited outside with Damian for Duke to collect them. She waved goodbye to everyone that walked past them but didn't move towards anyone else. 

When Duke saw him standing close to Marinette, he seemed to do a double take but he didn't say anything when Marinette climbed into the backseat besides ‘hello’.

“Duke, Marinette is going to come to our apartment and we shall explain things once we have more privacy,” Damian said with no preamble. He then refused to elaborate regardless of any questions that Duke had.

“Yo, Tim, we've got company,” Duke shouted when they stepped over the threshold of their temporary home. Marinette moved to grip Damian's hand as soon as the door shut behind them and he squeezed back reassuringly.

Marinette took a deep breath as they moved to the kitchen to have the following discussion. She knew it was necessary but she was terrified - she'd never told someone her secret identity but she was willing if it ended the threat hanging over her head.

“Oh, hey Marinette, what are you doing here? Not that you're not welcome! But we weren't expecting you,” Tim said as he came to join them. She exchanged a glance with Damian and he nodded ever so slightly. 

“Um, well, I actually came to talk to you about something that couldn't wait. Otherwise I would've held off until I saw you tonight for our regularly scheduled get together,” she said, hands fidgeting. “God, this is weird. Okay, so this morning, I met Duke out of my suit for the first time, and he noticed my Kwami hiding in my bag.”

“... You're Ladybug?” Tim sounded dumbstruck, staring at her in astonishment. She nodded shyly, opening her bag and letting Tikki out. She floated over to Duke first, who blinked at her but didn't make any other sign of surprise.

“Tt, I feel like that is stating the obvious,” Damian said, placing a comforting hand on her back. She gave him a grateful smile, leaning into him. “You have met her both in the suit and out, Drake, you should have deduced it.”

“Be fair, Damian, it's not like I've spent all that much time with Tim,” Marinette said softly. “And really, there's a bunch of magic that's supposed to get in the way.”

“Wait, are you telling me you worked out it was her?” Duke piped up, looking at Marinette and Damian with suspicion. Apparently whatever he saw confirmed what he was thinking because his eyes widened. “Holy hell, are you two dating?”

“Pft, yeah, sure they are,” Tim said, dismissing it out of hand before pausing and looking at how closely Marinette stood to Damian. “No, wait a minute. You said ‘boyfriend’ the other night, didn't you?”

“Tt, Duke is correct, we are in a relationship and have been since we visited Paris for our initial assessment of the situation. It is ridiculous that none of you noticed the change in my habits, but you can be rather obtuse.”

Both Duke and Tim stared at him like he had grown an extra head but he refused to indulge their curiosity any further. Marinette decided that they had gone off topic for long enough, clearing her throat delicately to get their attention back.

“Right, so, back to this morning? Duke could see Tikki, who was in my purse. Which means he could probably find Nooroo, wherever he is, which would tell us who Hawkmoth is.”

“Yeah, the energy signature is pretty unique. But how do we know that the butterfly Kwami will have the same signature? Don't they all have different powers? What if that changes the signature?”

“Oh, I hadn't thought of that,” Marinette said, biting her lip thoughtfully. She glanced at Tikki, having a conversation with no words and the tiny god dipped her head slightly. “Okay, so I can probably get another Kwami to do the check with, but not until tomorrow.”

“You just…have a stash of tiny gods you can borrow?” Duke said, looking at her like she was crazy. She blushed and Damian scowled at Duke. “What? That's a reasonable thing to question, Damian! Also, I can't believe you found the local hero and decided to date her.”

“Do not be preposterous, I did not know she was the local hero until we returned to Paris. We have been dating since our meal with her uncle,” Damian corrected him, and Marinette felt a giddy rush of joy flood through her.

After that, they chatted for thirty minutes, Tim demanding answers to all of his questions before saying that he would be telling the rest of the family. Damian accepted this with his usual grouchy demeanour, ending the Q&A by saying he would get Marinette home.

_ _ _

Adrien was itching to go and visit Marinette. He wanted to do it as Chat Noir but he had been working very hard on wooing her in their suits, so the direction change might tip his hand that he knew more than he should.

But his movements were so restricted as Adrien! Every time he thought he had slipped away from the Gorilla, or Lila, or his father, Marinette had the new Gotham student practically hanging off her arm! He knew it couldn't be true, but people were even speculating that Marinette liked Damian.

Sure, the dark haired, aggressively reclusive boy clearly liked Marinette - who wouldn't, she was Ladybug - but there was no way she liked him back. Marinette had told him well before this that she had feelings for another boy. If she was going to move on from the mystery boy, Chat Noir was the obvious choice, so he was annoyed that Damian was so constantly in her space.

There had been several akumas since the bat family had descended upon Paris and they said they were making progress, but they hadn't shared it yet. Ladybug had asked about it after the akuma Party Crasher and they had claimed they were narrowing the pool of suspects down but didn't want to share their suspicions until after they had checked the last few out.

Ladybug had accepted this without argument, but Adrien had been annoyed, and vocal about it. When they had parted, Ladybug had stayed behind, assumedly to smooth any ruffled feathers, which had annoyed him even more. What was with Marinette's sudden closeness with Gotham boys?

So now, he was heading to the Grévin wax museum to redo a hand cast for his wax statue. He invited Marinette, Alya and Nino and got enthusiastic responses from two of them. Marinette seemed to be babysitting, but he sent a message saying that he was sure whoever she was with would enjoy all of the statues, and she was welcome to bring them along.

He regretted it immensely when Marinette arrived in the company, not only of an excitable preschooler, but of Damian Thomas. They were fairly glued together, Adrien struggling to get in between them, and then he was pulled away to get his hand recast.

He spent the entire time with the sculptor riddled with anxious energy and wanting to return to the others. He spotted Nino and Alya playing hide and seek with Manon and went past without stopping. He almost missed seeing Marinette and Damian because they were wedged into a corner, having what looked to be a serious conversation.

Before he could get any closer there was a loud bang and several akumatised wax statues burst out of the door from the Ladybug and Chat Noir exhibit. Instinctively, Adrien ducked out of sight but not before he saw Lady WiFi shoot a pause button at Damian that froze him in the act of cornering Marinette.

Adrien grinned with satisfaction before calling for his transformation and scampering away to help take down the akuma.

_ _ _

Marinette called for Miraculous Ladybug and sighed in relief. She made sure Manon made it back to Alya and Nino safely before detransforming and rushing to find Damian. Fortunately he was standing in almost exactly the same place she had been forced to leave him.

“Damian! Are you okay?” She asked, gripping the front of his jacket as she skidded to a stop in front of him. He gave her an amused look but allowed her to hang off of his front without complaint. “Come on, we should rejoin the others, we'll have to talk about what Tim was saying later.”

When they rejoined the group, Manon burst into tears and threw herself at Marinette. The older girl consoled her, rubbing her back and saying reassuring nonsense. Once she was calmer, she was set back on the floor and turned to Damian.

“I'm sorry,” she said in a small voice, and Marinette's heart ached. It didn't matter how much she, as Ladybug or Marinette, told people that they weren't to blame for their actions as akumas, she imagined the guilt must be horrific.

Damian dropped to one knee so he could be on her eye level before speaking. “Manon, it is not your fault. I am sorry that you felt ignored, I should not have taken Marinette's attention away from you while she was babysitting. If it is alright with you, perhaps we may look through the statues together, all three of us?”

Manon squealed and gave him a tight hug that made Marinette smile softly. She knew Damian could be soft when he wanted to, but it was still heartwarming to see him interact with kids.

When they finished walking around the exhibits, Marinette said goodbye to her friends and went with Damian to return Manon to her mother. The reporter gave her a knowing smile when she introduced Damian and Marinette flushed with embarrassment.

As they walked back to Damian's apartment Marinette felt at ease, something she had taken for granted before becoming a superheroine. She basked in the calm, optimistic that she would soon be free of Hawkmoth.

_ _ _

Adrien was determined to talk to Marinette and he was at his limit. Every time he tried to talk to her, Damian was lurking. It was like the other boy didn't understand that he was monopolising Marinette's time, not to mention that he had to be making her uncomfortable. 

So when he overheard Damian saying that he had to speak with some family members that still lived in New Jersey and would be busy that afternoon? Adrien jumped at the opportunity to speak with Marinette without him. 

He took care to arrange his day so that he had free time as soon as school was over. Once he got to the car, he informed the Gorilla that he needed to speak with a classmate. He waited eagerly for Marinette to come out of the building but was dismayed when she still left with Damian.

To make matters worse, she didn't go home! Instead, she followed along with the dark haired boy and disappeared around a corner quickly. Cursing inwardly, he found himself trapped when Lila came over to talk to him, so he couldn't follow after the pair.

Delayed but not defeated, he asked Gorilla to drive in the direction he had seen Marinette and Damian going. Using SnapChat he was able to pinpoint the building Marinette was in (it wasn't creepy and weird, it was resourceful). But then it took nearly an hour for her to emerge, and somehow she did so with Damian again.

He felt his fists clench and he exited the car. The pair strolled casually along the street, not quite touching but not giving an awful lot of space. He waited for them to separate, for Marinette to tell Damian that she had to go home or something.

It felt like he had been hit in the stomach when the other boy pulled his lady to a stop in a quiet area. Marinette turned to Damian with a bright smile before pulling him down and kissing him. 

Turning away, Adrien ran blindly until he was back at the car.

_ _ _

Damian had been dreading this day ever since he had decided to pursue Marinette. She had laughed at his reluctance but he knew that this was going to be the most irritating and pointless thing he had ever done. But Marinette had agreed to meet the rest of his family by video chat and so he was stuck with it.

“Dami, it's going to be fine,” Marinette said soothingly. He grumbled and she giggled a little; they were walking down the street, her hand in his now that they were far enough away from the school. “You do realise that I need to meet them if we're going to keep dating, right?”

“I simply do not see why it is necessary that you meet all of them now. Surely meeting my father would suffice,” Damian said, practically growling in frustration. “Richard is going to be unbearable, and Jason insufferable.”

Marinette was quiet for several moments before speaking. “Do you think they won't like me?” She asked in a soft voice, and Damian felt awful for making her think it.

“Marinette, they are going to adore you,” he said firmly. “Father already thought you were delightful when he first met you and Timothy has been telling all of them about your wonderful qualities. This is purely their curiosity, which is why I deem it unnecessary.”

“I would like to meet them,” she said softly, and Damian couldn't think of any further arguments. 

When they arrived at the apartment they could hear Tim already giving a debrief of their current progress.

“...meeting with Agreste in an hour. With any luck, we'll either confirm that he's our culprit or strike him off our list.”

“Excellent work, thank you,” Bruce said, eyes flicking to the pair that had just entered the apartment. “Hello, Damian, I trust school is going well? And Marinette, lovely to see you again.”

“Tt, it is fine,” Damian said grouchily. But before Marinette could say her own greeting, Bruce was being pushed out of the screen in favour of another black haired, blue-eyed man. Given the squeal that came out of him, Marinette assumed that this must be Richard Grayson.

“Oh my gosh, you're so small! And cute! Jay, Jay, isn't she so small?” 

“Jesus, she's not just small, she's adorable,” another, bigger man chimed in. Marinette blinked as she saw yet another blue-eyed, black hair combo. “How're you doing, sweetheart?”

“I'm okay,” she squeaked, stepping closer to Damian as they scrutinised her. Giving her hand a squeeze, Damian turned a glower on his brothers.

“Oh my god, she even sounds adorable! It's so nice to meet you, Marinette, I'm Dick and this is Jason. We're Damian's two oldest brothers,” Dick said excitedly.

“This is trippy, are we sure she's not there under duress?” Jason joked, eyeing the closeness of the pair and the protective way Damian stood in front of her. “But seriously, good job Demon Spawn, she's way out of your league.”

“That's not-”

“Tt, I am well aware of that, thank you Todd,” Damian snapped, making Marinette flush. “You have met her now, I trust you will respect her privacy and leave us alone?”

“Yeah, sure thing,” Jason snorted, giving him a look that Marinette interpreted as ‘I’ll do whatever I want’. “You do realise that if it doesn't work out, she is literally adoption bait?”

“Jay, don't say things like that-” Dick jumped straight in and the two began to bicker, with Bruce sighing in the background as he tried to moderate. Eventually Tim and Duke announced that they had to leave for their meeting and to ‘have fun’.

Once they were gone, Bruce finally managed to end the argument between his two eldest children. He turned back to Damian and Marinette and asked if they had anything new to add in regards to the investigation into Hawkmoth.

“No, but I'm taking Damian to meet my mentor today, hopefully he can add some further insight just in case Gabriel isn't our problem,” Marinette said, channeling her Ladybug persona as she thought about Master Fu. “And I want to see if there are any Miraculous that Damian would work well with.”

They chatted for a while longer, flipping between hero work and school life before Damian said that it was fine he got Marinette home. Jason made kissing noises which made Marinette blush and Damian scowl, but Dick smacked him before saying goodbye to the pair. 

“You should give a call to Cass when you get the chance, Damian,” Bruce added before the call ended. “She has been very interested in finding out more about your girlfriend.”

“Tt, very well. At least Cassandra is better than this pair,” Damian said as they ended the video. Marinette breathed out a sigh of relief when she was certain they were no longer in the meeting. “That was every bit as bad as I feared they would be, are you alright?”

“I'm fine, but if we want to get to Fu’s, we should hurry,” Marinette said, heading for the door. They walked down the streets, not touching but not straying too far from one another. 

Damian felt on edge as soon as they exited the apartment building. He usually felt like he was being watched but it had intensified. But when he looked around, he couldn't see anyone out of place. There was a parked town car and several harried looking individuals hurrying along, so he tried to set it out of his mind. 

It didn't help that he had been on edge about Marinette meeting his other two brothers, and he wondered if that was contributing to his unsettled feeling. They walked at an unhurried pace until the street became more secluded. 

Deciding it would be worth stopping to look around again, Damian put a hand on Marinette's arm. He was about to tell her that he felt watched when she gave him a broad smile before pulling him into a kiss. He pressed into her, hand almost unconsciously burying itself in her hair.

When they broke apart a minute or two later, the feeling of being watched was gone and the thoughts melted away.

_ _ _

Adrien muttered to himself almost the entire way home. He was so full of anger and feelings so betrayed that he was amazed that he hadn't been akumatised. Or at least, he would have been if he could think past the hurt of seeing Marinette kissing someone else.

His father was apparently in a meeting with an American CEO and Nathalie informed him that he would be eating dinner alone again. Still grumbling and generally in a bad temper, Adrien thanked her stiffly before heading to his room.

Once he was in his room, he slumped at his desk, pushing his mouse to activate the screen. He gave a dejected sigh as he stared at his Ladybug background until Plagg made a disgusted noise and loudly demanded to know where his camembert was.

“Plagg, now isn't a great time,” Adrien said, although he pulled a fresh wheel out and tossed a piece to his Kwami. He glared moodily at the desktop, not bothering to start any of his homework or extracurriculars. After he had finished his camembert, Plagg came over to talk to him.

“Plagg, why did she choose him?” Adrien asked, ignoring the distinct whine to his voice. “They barely know each other! And how could she want to date someone who's less than her? She's a superhero, and he's just some American.”

“This is why I always say cheese is better than romance!” Plagg said cheerfully, settling onto Adrien's shoulder. “Forget about her, you still have Kagami!”

“Plagg, it's Ladybug and Chat Noir, not Chat Noir and Kagami,” Adrien half-shouted, annoyed. He heard a knock at the door a moment later and shooed Plagg before calling out to Nathalie.

“Adrien, your father needs to speak with you,” she answered, stepping into the room. She looked both concerned and pitying, uncomfortable like Adrien had never seen before.

“Sure,” he replied, following her down. He saw the Americans being shown out of the building and recognition tickled his brain. What was Damian Thomas's brother doing with a CEO? 

After he was shown into his father's office, what happened next took on a nightmare-like quality. It happened in a blur, starting with his father telling him he needed to show him something, and ending in seeing his dead mother's body in a glass coffin. 

After that, things were on double speed, transforming into Chat Noir, getting smacked across the city until he was fighting his father-as-Hawkmoth near the Eiffel Tower.

_ _ _

Marinette and Damian were chatting seriously with Fu about the different Miraculous available for Damian when both of their phones began to ring. Damian's turned out to be his brothers and Marinette's was an alert that Hawkmoth had been spotted fighting Chat Noir.

They looked at each other before Marinette let her intuition guide her. She grabbed the turtle Miraculous and slid it onto Damian's wrist as he talked on the phone. He nodded at her as he spoke and ended the call quickly.

“We were correct, Gabriel is Hawkmoth. Apparently Chat Noir discovered this as well and confronted the man without us because Duke and Tim saw him being forcefully ejected from the Agreste mansion. They are trying to follow them but it is proving difficult.”

“Then there's no time to lose. This is Wayzz, he is the Kwami for the Miraculous of protection. To activate, say Wayzz, shell on. Your power activates when you say ‘Shelter’ and will form a protective orb around the item of your choosing. It often goes around the shield that comes with your suit.”

Once he was ready, they hurried to leave Fu's store front, finding an alley to transform in before they rushed to the battle. Marinette jumped and swung frantically, not wanting her partner to be injured, or have his Miraculous removed.

“Watch out!” Damian shouted, leaping for her as Hawkmoth was sent flying into the building she landed on. It began to crumble and he leapt expertly to catch her and roll them safely to the next building. He cradled her head and grunted as they landed, but they were both standing within the next moment.

“No!” Chat howled from a nearby rooftop, but he wasn't looking at Hawkmoth. He appeared to be looking in Marinette's direction, and she worried that he was noting the way Damian hovered protectively. But, surely, he couldn't guess that there was a more romantic aspect to her relationship with a brand new hero?

But Hawkmoth seemed to be ready to take advantage of Chat's anger and a purple butterfly landed on his bell. She sucked in a horrified gasp of air as the sickly violet aura overtook him and left behind an almost exact copy of her kitty - but pure white, with blue eyes.

She watched with mounting horror as Chat seemed to fight with himself, building a cataclysm that he pointed at Hawkmoth and her alternately. He looked to be unable to decide and the cataclysm continued to grow until it became clear that he couldn't control it. Damian gasped as a rush of energy began to spread from where the akumatised Chat Noir stood.

Damian gripped her tightly around the waist with one arm as he screamed out ‘Shelter’, his other arm holding the shield high and praying that it was enough. Marinette willed all of her power to flow into the shield he was creating, countering the destruction barreling towards them. 

She gripped the arm around her middle so hard she thought her fingers would break. As the final waves of Chat’s power echoed and faded, the power of Shelter flickered and died. Damian's breathing faltered and he slid to the floor, and Marinette was too shocked to hold him up.

She gave a panicked gasp and dropped to her knees beside him, hands fluttering to his throat to find a pulse. For a heart-stopping moment she couldn't find anything, couldn't see any sign of life and she felt her anxiety morph into a wordless, nameless anguish. But then she saw his chest rise ever so slightly and she thanked every deity she could name that he wasn't dead.

She dragged him to safety, placing him at the very top level of the mangled Eiffel Tower as water started flooding the streets. She kissed him softly on the lips, vowing silently that she would fix things. Steeling herself, she stepped away, looking for her other half, the balance of destruction to her creation.

He was standing on nearby building wreckage, searching frantically for something. She took a hard swallow as she realised that she was what he was searching for. She stared at the destruction he had wreaked, pushing away the mounting horror as she looked up to the now split moon and braced herself.

“Chaton, what's going on?” She called out, her voice only wavering slightly. He turned towards her and she froze as she took in the white suit and bright blue eyes. He landed in front of her and she swallowed again, trying not to show how nervous she was. “Chat Noir?”

“It's Chat Blanc now, m'lady!” There was a slightly manic gleam in his eyes and he was eyeing her earrings almost hungrily. “And if you had been paying more attention to me - as you should - instead of fooling around with that new brat, you would know what was happening, Marinette.”

“You…when did you find out?” She breathed, keeping herself out of his reach as he stalked towards her. He growled slightly when his reaching hands remained empty. “Chaton, this is serious! You've been akumatised and we need to fix this, because you've destroyed everything.”

He hissed and pounced at her then, his eyes narrowed to slits. She rolled out of the way, wondering how she could defeat him so she could fix everything. They fought like that for several minutes, Chat aiming for her earrings and Marinette rolling out of the way and reach for his akumatised object. 

“M'lady, if you give me the earrings I can fix all of this,” he hissed, clearly frustrated. It was so unlike her kitty that it made her fumble momentarily. He caught her wrist and pinned it to her waist.

“Or you give me the akuma and I use Miraculous Ladybug to restore everything,” she countered, slamming her elbow towards his face. He hissed again and dropped her hand so she swung her yo-yo in a wide arc to get herself some space.

“But if you ‘restore’ things, we won't be together, Maribug,” Chat said, straightening up and raising a single hand. A bright ball of something crackled and he aimed towards her. She flipped out of harm's way just in time, watching as the building remnants behind her were reduced to complete rubble. “It's a mistake of cosmic proportions that we aren't together, and only something of cosmic proportions, like a wish, can fix that.”

Marinette flung herself behind a piece of wreckage and called for her lucky charm. A picture frame landed in her hands and her breath caught at the picture of their statue. The statue, to her at least, showed the first piece of art that displayed them as a team.

“Found you,” Chat hissed, pouncing onto her and knocking her feet out from under her. She held the picture up to his face, willing him to see what she did.

“See, even Tikki agrees, it's you and me against the world,” Marinette said desperately, trying not to look at the additional destruction and devastation around them. “Just because it's not romantic doesn't mean that's changed. You're my partner, Kitty, please, don't let it end like this.”

He hesitated and she whipped her hand to the bell at his throat. He yowled angrily, but she had hold of it and squeezed, putting all of her frustration and hurt into it. The bell snapped and the butterfly flapped out, almost lazily. Kicking Chat off of her, she flung out her yo-yo to capture it.

As the akumatisation bubbled away, Marinette was left staring at her partner, who looked around confusedly. He turned his eyes - green again, thankfully - back to her and they lit up momentarily. Then he seemed to take in her expression and faltered.

“Hey M’lady, what happened here?” He obviously didn't remember anything which made what Marinette had to say that much harder. 

“You know who I am,” she said, not bothering to ask the question. When he froze, she saw the quick mental maths that pushed him to realise that he must have been akumatised. She swallowed and hardened her tone to make it clear that she was angry with him. “And you decided you didn't like my boyfriend.”

“I…” he was at a loss for words and hung his head ashamedly. “I didn't mean for this to happen, I was just so…”

“You just decided you were entitled to me romantically,” Marinette said, making him wince. She hated that this was hurting him but, equally, he had killed everyone except them because he couldn't take the answer ‘no’ at face value. “Chaton, you're my partner, my best friend. For better or worse, we have a future together that the universe depends on for balance.

“But that doesn't mean we have to be together romantically. We work together as friends. You ended the world because you thought you were entitled to my time. That's…that's not healthy, Chat. Take it from me, being obsessed with someone to the point that you feel you have to be with them when they clearly don't feel the same ends up hurting you.”

“I'm so sorry,” he whispered, hanging his head in his hands. “It wasn't…it wasn't just you, M'lady. My father…he's Hawkmoth.”

“...Adrien?” He looked up at her with wide, desperate eyes and she felt her heart split in two. “Oh minou, I…look, we have a plan. The bats have a plan, it's a good, solid plan, and it can be done as soon as I fix everything. But if he knows your identity…”

“He has my mother,” Chat- Adrien whispered, voice trembling. Marinette's heart broke for him, her mind racing as she tried to think of how to take Hawkmoth down. She called for her Lucky Charm and received only a teapot, meaning she would need more Miraculous.

“Okay, what we’ll need to do first…” Marinette gave him a detailed rundown of what she expected to happen in the next couple of hours. And then she swallowed as she held her hand out for the ring. “I'm going to ask you to wear a different Miraculous for this fight, chaton.”

“But…okay,” Adrien said, sounding defeated. Once she had the ring in hand, she threw the teapot in the air, calling for Miraculous Ladybug. Everything righted in a swarm of ladybugs and Hawkmoth was lost from sight.

“Ladybug!” 

The pair turned towards the turtle hero who was launching towards them. He crashed into Ladybug and did a quick check over her, hands skimming her limbs one at a time before coming to cup her face.

“I'm alright,” she said gently, even as her timer started to beep. “But we need to move. I need to get Adrien somewhere safe and then get in touch with the Bats so that we can launch our counter-attack.”

_ _ _

They all agreed to meet up on the Eiffel Tower. Marinette and Damian had headed straight back to Master Fu's, and grabbed several Miraculi before meeting up with Tim and Duke. They had put in the request for aid from the Justice League and anticipated help from one or two of the more positive members of the team.

“You will like Superboy, I think,” Damian said as he let them into the apartment. They could hear Tim and Duke bustling around as they got their gear together and the animated sounds of someone zipping at unnatural speeds through the space. “Kid Flash is…unique.”

“Hey kids!” The yellow blur stopped in front of them, making the others look up and greet them before carrying on. “I'm going to be heading out in a second to visit the police station, just to give them a heads up on what we're doing.”

“Thank you, Kid Flash,” Marinette said warmly. She felt slightly exposed, standing in front of other heroes without her mask, but she hadn't wanted to draw attention to the apartment by coming as Ladybug. 

Throwing her a salute, Kid Flash zoomed away. Damian muttered something that sounded like ‘annoying speedster’ but Marinette ignored it. The pressure was beginning to mount and she could feel the buzz of nerves cutting into her stomach.

“It will all be over soon, Marinette,” Damian murmured, his arms wrapping around her comfortingly. She knew that it needed to end, now that she finally had proof that Gabriel was Hawkmoth, but she was also a little scared. 

It felt like no time at all before they were rushing away to the Eiffel Tower. She had transformed and swung by the bakery to collect Adrien, whom she had stashed in her room. She handed him the horse Miraculous and he transformed before they jumped into action.

On top of the Eiffel Tower were Kid Flash, Superboy, Signal, Robin and a new bee hero, also known as Red Robin. The plan was simple, but effective. Signal had written his testimony for the police and Red had compiled the other evidence that had led to the conclusion of Gabriel being Hawkmoth. In addition to this, Signal would be carrying a video camera that would allow him to capture the moment that they removed the Miraculous from the villain.

“So, Equestria here will open a portal into his father's lair as he's been there before. If Gabriel isn't there at the time, I'll need someone to check over Emilie Agreste and see if she can be saved or if he is, in fact, harbouring his wife's body in the hopes that he can reanimate it,” Ladybug said, wincing apologetically at Equestria as she said it.

“If he is there, I'll need both Kid Flash and Superboy to be ready to superspeed and grab his Miraculous if the plan with, um-”

“Hornet,” the bee hero supplied helpfully.

“Right, if the plan with Hornet fails and we can't just freeze him. If Mayura, who we assume is his assistant, is there, you'll be able to use your venom twice as you're an adult and freeze both of them but, again, having speedsters means that we have a contingency in place.

“I'm going to be there more as a final failsafe and recognisable Parisian heroine so that when we broadcast our non-fight people can be assured that it's real. And, if you're willing, Robin, I ask that you use the Miraculous of the black cat so that we can unbalance Gabriel even further.”

Everyone agreed and everything flowed smoothly from that point forward. It went exactly to plan, Ladybug mostly there to stand imperiously as the Justice League members did the brunt of the work. It was almost too easy, Mayura being frozen almost instantaneously before Superboy managed to subdue Hawkmoth.

The video of Gabriel being unmasked could have been choreographed with how much he wriggled, and snarled, demanding to know where his son was. Ladybug coldly informed him that Adrien had bravely stepped forward with the information he held and was being kept in a safe place until the Miraculi had been retrieved.

And just like that, months of fighting ended. Marinette would have said it was anticlimactic if it hadn't come on the heels of a world-ending catastrophic event. She handed Gabriel and Nathalie off to the police before collecting the bee Miraculous from Red Robin.

Then she, Damian and Adrien slipped away to visit Master Fu with the remaining Miraculous. They handed everything back to the older gentleman, who promised that he would be returning the box to Tibet before going in search of Marianne so that they could spend the rest of their lives together.

After a couple of very teary goodbyes, Marinette and Adrien said farewell to the Kwamis of destruction and creation. They left the massage parlour and Marinette felt the burden melt away from her shoulders. She gave a carefree laugh as she hugged Damian tightly, pushing away the thoughts that she still needed to work with Adrien to make sure his aunt could take him in.

Depositing Adrien back at the bakery, Marinette gave a brief and extremely sanitised explanation for why he couldn't go home. She neatly span the truth so that they didn't give away just how involved the pair had been in taking down the supervillains.

Damian had waited outside the bakery for her and didn't say anything when she reappeared, simply taking her hand and walking with her towards his temporary residence. He seemed to grow more contemplative the closer they got, and Marinette assumed he was thinking about how soon he would need to go home.

He pulled her to a stop a street away from their destination and wrapped her in his arms. 

“I wish I could stay,” he murmured, pressing her against his chest. She felt tears welling in her eyes and blinked them away as she gripped the back of his jacket tightly. The day was fading into evening and Marinette realised that her night time meetings with vigilantes on top of the Eiffel Tower were over. “But the most I will be able to convince my father of is a week.”

“I understand,” she said, voice muffled. It was going to be unspeakably hard to be without him, but she knew that Gotham was his home.

“But the Zeta tube will remain, so perhaps I shall be able to…persuade my father that regular visits are necessary,” he added, a small smile obvious in his voice. “We would need to stay out of sight to avoid suspicion, but I imagine we could find ways to occupy the time.”

[janeyseymour]

At Arm's Length pt 3

Another little addition to this story I've somehow managed to start. It would probably be best to read the first 2 parts, but it should be able to stand on its own.

Summary: You overhear a few things Melissa says to your coworkers. It leaves you less than pleased.

Part 1. Part 2

WC: ~4k

As you pull up to Melissa’s house, the same type of wine before in hand, you realize the

severity of the situation you’re in. You were going to have dinner with the redhead again- but this time not as a friendly dinner. No. This time... it was a date. Your first date in years.

Suddenly hyper aware of the fact that you are still dressed in your teaching outfit, your hair is in the rattiest bun, and you have no makeup on. 

You take a few minutes to primp yourself in your car, thanking God you always keep an eyeliner and mascara in your purse for if you ever decide to go out on a whim. With one final fluffing to your hair and making sure you look presentable, you sigh and exit your car. 

Dinner is perfect. She makes you the pasta she promised, you two share another bottle of wine, and then she asks if you’d like to stay for a little longer. Of course you accept the invitation. Your head is swirling, and you aren’t sure if you’re just the slightest bit tipsy or completely intoxicated with being in such close proximity to the woman across the table from you.

“So,” you sigh in content as you settle onto her couch, a glass of wine in hand. “Is this for real?”

“I think so, hon,” Melissa smiles at you as a hand rests on your knee. “If you want it to be.”

Your cheeks heat up again, and you don’t know if it’s from the wine or from her gentle touch. It’s much more gentle than you expected it to be, considering her brash and abrasive personality she usually likes to show. You smile shyly.

“R-really?” you ask hesitantly. “I mean... I- you hated me a week ago.”

“I told you,” the redhead fights the urge to roll her eyes. “I never hated you. I could never. I just had to pretend, so I wouldn’t act like a lovesick puppy around you.”

“But just last week, you were ragging on me for my bulletin boards, and you were laughing at the fact that I was trying to learn to juggle for the kids, and I- I haven't contributed anything to the school. I barely know what I’m doing... I actually don’t know what I’m doing in the slightest. I’m kind of a hot mess. Actually, I’m probably the hottest mess I know.”

Melissa frowns, and you know she’s over you. That didn’t take much convincing at all. She’s looking at you with concern, and her hand moves from its place. She’s clearly thinking. Deciding to cut her off, you make to stand.

“Hey, hey,” she says gently. “C’mon.”

“I know when I’m not welcome anymore,” you whisper as you go to grab your bag. Your heart almost breaks in your chest as you go to leave her warm house.

Her hand wraps around your wrist, and she pulls you back onto the couch. You just barely manage to not spill any wine. “Y/N, do you think I was being for real when I said all that stuff? It was all an act so I wouldn’t grab you and make a move on you at school.”

You shrug.

“I was jealous of your bulletin boards. And yeah, learning to juggle is ridiculous, but that just goes to show how dedicated you are to the kids. You learned to juggle in three days because one of them took up an interest in it. I’m sure you’ll learn more ridiculous skills as you-”

“I’m already learning how to make balloon animals for Jessie,” you admit quietly.

“-And you have contributed to the school.”

You roll your eyes. “Melissa,” you sigh. “It’s fine. You don’t have to-”

“I don’t have to do anything,” she cuts you off. “But you deserve to know how lucky Abbott is to have you, hon. You’ve made such a big difference with these kids already. I overheard some of your post-observation meeting with Ava, and she had nothing but good things to say- it even sounded like she was pretty locked into the lesson herself. And you go the extra mile for Zion- paying for his lunch everyday and making sure you’re stocked up on snacks for the kids who forget or can’t afford to bring their own.”

“I-” you bite the corner of your cheek. You really don’t know what to say. “I’m a hot mess everywhere else though.”

“I doubt it,” she says honestly, and she’s back to squeezing your knee gently. “C’mon, hon. You’re just hot, if anything.”

“More like a dumpster caught on fire,” you mumble, looking away from her.

“Hey now,” she clicks her tongue. Then she makes a joke. “I’ve smelled enough dumpster fires started by us Schemmentis to know, you are not a dumpster caught on fire.”

That just barely gets you to smile, and she squeezes your knee again. 

“Now, I want this to be something,” she tells you seriously. “But do you?”

You nod, and you look at her. You see nothing but adoration in her eyes for you, and you notice how they sparkle in a way you’ve never seen someone’s eyes sparkle before. 

“Words, hon,” she prompts.

“I- I want to see where this could go,” you whisper as you start to lean in. You feel her hand cup your cheek and, this time, Mr. Johnson isn’t there to stop what almost happened in the hallway a few hours ago.

It’s soft, it’s sweet, it’s short. It’s perfect. 

---

That was almost two months ago. Since then, you and the fiery redheaded teacher have been seeing each other in secret. Nobody at work knows- not even Barb. It shocks you that your girlfriend hasn’t told her best friend- you thought that at least by now she would know.

You’re fairly certain Barbara is onto the two of you; actually, you know this. She could spot it from the first week you two had started seeing each other. But you nor Melissa had ever confirmed it for her. So for now, she just gives you two a knowing glance and a smile whenever she sees you together.

This morning was perfect. You had woken up in her arms, and the two of you got ready for work in a sleepy haze, but you were together. While she’s upstairs finishing getting ready, you head down the steps and into the kitchen. 

Only recently had she let you even think about touching anything in her kitchen, but you were going to take full advantage of the fact that you weren’t as exhausted as usual and were ready before she was.

Just as you’re plating the omelets you made for the two of you, you feel two arms snake around your waist, and she settles her chin on your shoulder. You lean back into her embrace for a few seconds, reveling in her warmth before pulling away just slightly.

“I made breakfast,” you say softly. “I can’t cook much else, but I make a mean omelet.”

She presses a kiss to your cheek and unwinds her arms to take the plates over to the table. You immediately miss the fact that you’re almost an arm’s length away from her. You sit down next to her, grinning as she rolls her eyes and pulls you into her lap.

As she takes her first bite, you glance at her. You hope she likes it. You know you’ll never be nearly the cook that she is, but-

“Holy shit, babe,” she exhales. “This is delicious. Beats my Aunt Rita’s- but don’t ever tell her I said that.”

You grin before digging into your own breakfast.

The two of you drive separately to school, not wanting to give away the fact that you spent the night together. The crew didn’t even know you were dating, so how would they react if Melissa pulled into the parking lot with you in the passenger seat?

You circle the block a few times, just enough to give off the effect that you hadn’t arrived at the same time before pulling in next to her car. You glance over, but she’s already inside. She’s probably pouring you a cup of coffee as you speak.

You’re about to enter the breakroom to put away your usual lunch when you hear your girlfriend’s loud voice. You turn just out of sight you can listen in.

“Oh come on,” the woman groans loudly. 

“All we’re saying, Melissa,” you hear Barb tell the woman. “Is that I see the eyes you give her. I haven’t seen those eyes since you went out with Joe, and the two of you ended up married.”

“Yeah,” you hear Melissa huff. “And then we got divorced.”

“I think you guys would be cute together!” Janine gives her thoughts. “You already do coupley things together anyway.”

“Like what?” you hear your girlfriend challenge.

“Well,” Janine drawls out. “You make her coffee in the morning.”

“I always have a little leftover anyway.”

“She practically grabbed your hand that one day when the fire alarm went off and none of us knew it was a drill.”

“And I grabbed Barb’s as a natural reaction.”

“You two stay late to decorate bulletin boards together even though we all know she does all of the-”

“Safety in numbers.”

“You give her the eyes Gregory and Janine would give each other before they got their heads out of their asses and finally started dating,” Jacob cuts in. The two mentioned feel their cheeks heat up, but they both agree.

“You’re outta your damn minds if youse think I would ever go out with Y/N. She’s a kid who barely knows what she’s doing in life. Now turn on the damned news.”

Your heart drops. It falls out of your chest and onto the floor. It shatters into a million pieces. Sure, you had used those words to describe yourself before, but hearing them from her mouth... that kills you.

You don't enter the break room that morning. Instead, you head straight for your classroom. You guess you’ll have to get used to wilted spinach again, and you’ll have to go without your morning coffee today. You plop down at your desk and put your head in your hands. And after last night and this morning, it just hurts even more. 

You feel like an idiot. An absolute idiot. No wonder she didn’t want anyone to know- because she isn’t falling for you the way that you already fell for her. She knows this isn’t going to be a lasting thing- you should’ve known too. You’re just beginning to berate yourself when you hear her footsteps growing louder. You know what that means- the kids are due to come in at any moment.

But the sound of her boots don’t go past your room. They stop right outside your door.

“Hey, hon,” she says as she knocks on your doorframe. “You ‘kay? You didn’t come in like I thought you would.”

You look up, and there she is standing with two mugs in her hands. You look at the clock. It’s fifteen minutes before your students will start to file in. Jim Gardner should still be on in the staff room. You set your hands back into your head.

“Fine,” you say as evenly as you can. “Just- responding to an email I got from Anaya’s mom.”

She looks at you curiously. You don’t even have your laptop out yet. She steps into your room and makes her way over to your desk, where she sets the coffee you would usually lunge for. 

“How’re you replying to an email when you don’t even have your laptop out?”

“Replying in my head,” you mumble as you glance at the coffee mug. You want to reach for it so badly, but you won’t.

“Can I help y’out in any way?” she asks, completely unaware of the fact that you had heard her earlier.

You shake your head.

“Can I at least take your lunch to put in the fridge for you?” she asks gently.

You shrug.

“What’d the email say that has you so worked up?” she prods. “You were fine this mornin’.”

“I’m fine,” you lie. “Just have a headache.”

“Did you take Advil?” you nod. “Okay, hon. Try to feel better, yeah?”

You continue to stare at your desk, not wanting to look at her. You know how she feels, so why is she pretending like she still cares?

“Okay, babe,” she leans down to press a gentle kiss to your temple. “I’ll leave you with some peace and quiet before the little monsters come in, but I hope you start to perk up again.”

You don’t miss the fact that she snags your lunch from your bag before leaving you with the cup of coffee she made for you.

As the kids make their way in, you aren’t there to greet them at the door with a smile like you usually are. You stay planted at your desk because you don’t want to have to look down the hall and see your girlfriend- probably you’re soon to be ex-girlfriend.

“I thought there was going to be a sub!” Jada announces as she walks in. She runs up to your desk and gives you a hug. “I’m so happy you’re here today, Ms. Y/N! I don’t like when we have subs.”

You can’t help the small smile that appears on your face as you embrace your student. “I’m glad I’m here too,” you tell her gently. You do mean that, because had you been home, you would already be half a wine bottle deep wallowing in your self pity, and it was barely 8 am. 

Standing outside of her classroom, Melissa can’t help but notice that you aren’t standing at the door like you usually do in the mornings. Watching you greet your kids always brings a smile to her face, and that smile is missing right now. She figures your head must really be hurting if you can’t even do that.

She makes her way down the hall to your door where she sees a few of her former students.

“Ms. Schemmenti!” one of them grins.

“Hey ya little eagle,” she chuckles as the girl practically bear-hugs her.

“Is Ms. Y/N here today?”

“She is,” you hear the second grade teacher say before seriously telling the little group now huddled around her, “But she isn’t feelin’ too great today, so I need youse all to be extra good for her today. Can you do that for me?”

They all nod eagerly.

Even with your students being on their best behavior thanks to a talk from Melissa, you can’t seem to pull yourself out of your funk today. You’re usually so good at compartmentalizing your home life from your school life- but now those two worlds have collided, and here you are.

The morning drags on much slower than it usually does, even as the students do everything they can to make today easier on you. And you may have lied to the redhead about having a headache earlier, but now your head is pounding- caffeine withdrawal.

You walk the kids down to their lunch period like you usually do, and you almost head into the break room to grab your lunch and make a coffee, but you don’t even want to look at your girlfriend right now; not after the way she acted with her friends this morning. Deciding you’ll just have to make do with a poptart from the kiddos’ snack stash, you head back into your classroom. Your headache won’t go away, but at least the growling of your stomach will.

As you settle at your desk, your eyes wander to the now cold cup of coffee on the corner of your table. You want it so badly, but you also don’t want it. You don’t want to give Melissa the satisfaction of-

“Hon,” the woman practically storms into your classroom, your tupperware container and fork in hand. In her other hand is a new coffee. She sets it in front of you. “Eat.”

“‘M not hungry,” you mumble and push it away. “Not for that anyway.”

“You hungry for somethin’ else?” she asks teasingly, a smirk written on her face. 

“Melissa, we are at school. No.”

“Hey,” she says quietly as she sits on the corner of your desk. “I was just makin’ a joke. I didn’t really-” her eyes wander to the untouched coffee. “You didn’t drink your coffee from this morning.”

“I didn’t want it.”

“I think if you drink it, it might help your headache.” Her brows are knit in concern for you.

“Please just go,” you sigh as you bite into your poptart. “I just need some alone time.”

Melissa’s hand finds its way to your shoulder, and she immediately realizes how tense you are. “Sweetheart, are you that st-”

“Just. Go,” you practically hiss.

“O-okay, hon,” she whispers. “‘M sorry.” She gives your shoulder a little squeeze and leans down to kiss your cheek before leaving.

Come the end of the day, as soon as your last student is out, you’re out. You leave your salad on your desk, you leave the two untouched mugs of coffee on your desk, and you sneak out before anybody else can see you leave. 

Melissa saunters to your room, hoping that you’ve perked up and are willing to come over again for dinner tonight when she notices that your lights are off and the door is shut.

“Y/N?” she opens the door. She walks over to your desk, a deep frown forming on her face as she sees your untouched food and drink. Your bags aren’t there. You left, and she knows it.

With a sigh, she closes your door and heads down towards Barbara’s room. The kindergarten teacher is just locking her door as you make your way over to her. 

“Hi there, Melissa,” she smiles. “No Y/N today?”

“She was here,” the redhead tells her. “She’s already gone though.”

“I know she was here, dear,” Barbara glances over. “I saw her this morning when she was on her way to take her kids to music. Poor girl looked miserable. Looked like someone kicked her puppy.”

“I know,” the second grade teacher groans. “I tried cheerin’ ‘er up, but it didn’t-”

“We know,” the older teacher tells Melissa. “We saw the way you came back to the staff room after you gave her your lunch. Ooh, girl, if looks could kill.”

Mr. Johnson’s walking down the hall, his garbage bin rolling in front of him. “Maybe you shouldn’t have said what y’did this morning,” he mumbles, mostly to himself, although the pair hears him.

“What was that?” Melissa whips around and glares at him.

The janitor shrugs. “Maybe you shouldn’t have said what y’did this morning,” he repeats again bravely.

“And what the hell is that supposed to mean?” the redhead raises a brow in shock.

“It means you’re the one who made her look like someone kicked her puppy,” the custodian tells her, and in that moment, Melissa knows what he means.

“She- she heard,” the redhead’s mouth falls open.

“Yeah, she did,” Mr. Johnson drawls out. “You shoulda seen the look on that poor girl’s face. Thank God hearts don’t really shatter, otherwise I’d still be there cleaning up the mess.”

“I- I gotta go,” Melissa pats her friend’s arm as she frantically runs out of the building.

“Go!” Mr. Johnson cheers. “Get your girl back!”

Barbara looks to him, clearly surprised. “So they are together?”

“We better hope they still are tomorrow morning,” the janitor quips. “Otherwise, I’m gonna have to do more than pick up Y/N’s broken heart. We all know Melissa can destroy.”

The second grade teacher probably breaks every possible driving law in order to get to your apartment. She’s barely put her car in park before she’s stumbling into your building and knocking on your door rather aggressively.

You’re laying on your couch face down when you hear what is obviously Melissa. She’s coming over to break up with you- you just know it. 

“Y/N!” Melissa yells. “I know you’re home! Your car is in your spot!”

“Go away!” You call back. “I don’t feel-”

You're interrupted by a key being put into the lock. You hadn’t give her a key? And she didn’t know where your spare was hidden? Nevertheless, your front door swings open as she throws a bobby pin back into her hair. 

“What the- dammit, now I have to get a new lock,” you grumble into the cushion of your couch.

“Hon, I’m so-”

“So what, Melissa? Ready to break up with me because you would never go out with me?” you finally bite out now that you aren’t at school.

“Babe,” she whispers as she makes her way over to you.

“I heard what you said this morning,” you spit out. “So just break up with me and be done with it.”

“I don’t want that,” she tells you as she wraps your arms around you. For the first time, you don’t lean into her. 

“Then what the hell do you want?” you wrestle free of her hold on you. “Since you clearly don't care about me enough to tell them we’re together. You wouldn’t have said what you did if you didn’t mean it, even slightly- dismissing everything they were saying.”

“Babe, it isn’t like that and you-”

“I don’t get you!” you finally break. “You tell me I’m your sun at home, and then you say all that shit at school! You won’t even tell your best friend because you’re so ashamed to be with-”

“I’ll tell Barb officially,” she states quickly. “I’ll tell Abbott. I’ll tell the whole fuckin’ world. I’m not ashamed at all.i I want you, and only you.”

“You say that now, but you haven’t even told Barb. You dismiss every comment she makes about the two of us,” you mumble. “Is it because you don’t really-”

“Barb knows,” Melissa tells you. “So does Mr. Johnson.”

At that you look at her, dumbfounded. 

“I don’t know how he knows, but he does,” she shrugs. She wraps her arm around you again. “And hon, I’m so sorry you heard those things I said.”

“It doesn’t take back the fact that you said it,” you grumble.

“You have to know I didn’t mean any of it,” she whispers as she kisses your temple.

“I- I know,” you admit. “But it still hurt that you could say all of that without any hesitation.”

“Because us Schemmentis are damn good liars, and we know how to- that’s besides the point. Y/N, I am so sorry. So sorry.”

You shrug again, but you don’t pull away from her.

“How can I make it up to you?” she whispers as she pulls you closer.

In lieu of an answer, your stomach growls.

“Why don’t you come back to my place with me, and I’ll make you a nice meal?” she suggests.

“That’s a start,” you say with a small, nervous smile.

“And then tomorrow, I’ll drive us to work, and we can tell everyone,” she suggests.

“Mel,” you sigh.

“I’m serious. I’ll tell them- I’m ready. I never wasn’t ready,” she promises. “I was trying to respect your boundaries, and you hadn’t said anything to anyone at school, so I didn’t wanna out you.”

You lean into her. “‘M sorry I was a bitch.”

“You had every right to be,” your girlfriend assures you. “I probably would’ve committed a crime if I were in your shoes. C’mon, hon. Let’s get going if we want to eat at a decent time tonight.”

“Just let me pack a bag, and then...?” you look at her, waiting for her nod of approval. She kisses you gently with a nod. “I’ll be waiting.”

As you leave your apartment hand in hand, her carrying your overnight and school bags, you know the two of you will be okay. 

Next

[ivyyisbored22]

𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭— 𝐁𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐅𝐅

Note: Check Description and other chapters first to understand the story ^^♡

Chapter 18

WARNING!!!🔞 This Chapter contains SMUT: Oral (f.recieving), fingering, semi public, slightest of dirty talk.

Minors do not interract!!!

Aria

There's a 99% chance that an alien took over Chris's body in the past week. And the remaining 1% is that he's actually changing. Trying to change, at least, if we put it in a proper sense.

Getting one step closer to Chris feels like discovering a new part of him and a part of myself I buried down after my last relationship.

Blond, blue eyes, class topper and who looked like the perfect boyfriend, Luke was my ex who I met in business school during my first year. We were made for eachother, or so I thought. We dated for two years, until I walked into him having sex with my best friend on MY birthday.

What an amazing surprise. The bastard had been cheating on me since our 2nd anniversary, that betrayal felt like waking up from a beautiful dream, only to find yourself trapped in a nightmare you never saw coming.

I had grown distant from everyone since then, shutting myself from any relationships after that. Unable to see me suffer internally while not being myself in the outlook was why my parents asked me to get married to Chris, hoping it would make me forget everything.

The heartbreak I went through with Luke is a scar that refused to heal so fast or easily.

But I don't blame them. Some things were easier to be left than to explain and the in the end we have different perspectives of viewing the world. To their eyes settling down after business school was the solution.

Although unknown to my parents was also a certain lingering deadline between Chris and me, that I wasn't healed and still played a fake version of myself in front of others.

I was never destined for true love or a happy ending.

Our marriage was stable, predictable, and perhaps a bit too routine. I had grown accustomed to Chris's cold nature, his affection expressed in the form of providing comfort and security rather than warm embraces or whispered sweet nothings.

The security system in the mansion was tightened, Chris didn't bring up about that Victor guy again, so I didn't ask about it again. Assuming he had whatever of that under control.

But this past week, something had changed. It was in the small things—like how he would pause to ask about my day with genuine interest, or the way his fingers would linger just a bit longer when he brushed against my hand.

Or how today I'm roaming inside one of the biggest bookstores in the city, but is closed for the public because Chris wanted me to spend however long I wanted freely. He had rented the whole place for the entire day.

"Chris, this is too much," I said, turning to face him.

The soft lighting of the empty bookstore with no signs of staff but just the two of us created an intimate atmosphere, making the moment feel surreal. Chris was in a simple tee, jacket and denim trousers today, unlike his usual coat suit and dress shirt outfits, the casual attire adding to the sense that I was seeing a different side of him.

"It's not too much. I could have bought the place if you hadn't stopped me." He said smirking, giving me a view of his leathal dimple that made my stomach do a summersault.

That he would have. As COO of Aurelius, he will go beyond limits to get and do whatever he wanted.

"Well, good that you listened," I replied, rolling my eyes playfully. "Buying the entire bookstore might have been a bit over the top, even for you."

"I'll have you know sweetheart, I've bought things that are way more than a bookstore." A cocky eyebrow arched as he let out a deep chuckle.

"Like what?" I asked, crossing my arms joining his banter.

"The guys and I wanted to go to the Bahamas last summer but our yacht was under maintenance," He slipped his hands into his pockets, "So I bought another one."

My jaw fell unhinged, and eyes widening as I struggled to comprehend the audacity of his statement. "You...bought another yacht? Just like that?"

Chris nodded casually, his posture and expression relaxed as if discussing the purchase of a new pair of shoes.

"Yeah, it seemed like the logical solution at the time."

I couldn't help but laugh incredulously. "Logical solution? Most people would just postpone the trip or I don't know fly there."

"Well, it seemed like a good excuse to upgrade so I figured why not?" he said with a nonchalant shrug, his smirk widening.

"Sure," I slowly nodded, "But it doesn't mean you have to go to such extremes. Like this one right now," I countered, though I couldn't help but smile at his grand gesture.

"Extremes are kind of my thing, Aria," Chris said, leaning against a bookshelf, his buff bicep against the books made my stomach do another flip.

"You should know that by now."

"Yeah, I've noticed," I said, shaking my head, running my fingers through the spines of the Lord of the Rings series.

"You're like a bull in a china shop"

"I prefer 'strategic disruptor,'" he replied, his eyes twinkling with amusement. Our eyes locked briefly for a second, then I turned away, browsing the shelves.

From Shakespeare to best selling authors today, having their own shelves of their books, the building was spacious and three floors high, giving any reader an experience of a lifetime.

There were small lounges in two corners of each floor, cozy and inviting, with plush armchairs and warm lighting, perfect for curling up with a book. The air was filled with the faint scent of aged paper and fresh ink, a fragrance that always brought me comfort.

"Thank you, for this" I turned back to him as I took a random book off a shelf, Chris's eyes were already on me, watching my every move.

"You don't have to thank me for everything," Chris walked towards to me, closing the distance, "You're worth it."

I felt my cheeks flush as well as the butterflies in my stomach frantically erupt, as if closing down a store for a day was the most natural thing in the world.

His words warmed something deep inside me, a place I had thought long frozen. The old Aria, the one who believed in grand gestures and romantic surprises, stirred within me. But I had to remind myself to be cautious; just a week of change could not erase the last months of indifference.

But we'll never know.

As we walked shelf after shelf, an exclusive copy of one my favourite books caught my eyes. I immediately went and took it in my hands, the cover of the book held me captive in my spot.

The title was embossed in gold, glistening under the lights. The rich, deep red background was adorned with intricate patterns of flowers and foliage, intertwining with dragons that seemed almost alive. Each petal and leaf was meticulously detailed, their colors vibrant against the dark, quilted texture behind them.

"Hmm?" Chris came behind me, he was carrying two baskets that were full of the newest thrillers and romance. I kind of felt bad for making him trail after me like a pack mule.

"This is the last one I promise. It's a special edition" I showed him the book, my eyes sparkling with excitement.

Chris glanced at the cover, his expression remaining stoic but with a hint of amusement playing at the corners of his mouth. "A special edition? Looks like I'm not the only one around here with expensive tastes."

I chuckled, hugging the book to my chest. "Well, this is worth it. Look at the detail. It's a piece of art."

"Alright, if it makes you happy," He brought the basket up and I placed the book on the top of the stack, a wide smile spread across my face that refused to go away.

"Is this all you want? You're free to get as many as you like Aria. This whole place is yours." He said genuinely, his tone matter-of-fact. I shook my head, still smiling, a warm feeling spreading across my chest.

"As a slow reader these are going to keep me alive for a year or even more. They are enough."

He nodded, a hint of understanding in his eyes. "If you say so"

For a moment, I felt a rare connection with him. It wasn't about grand emotions or declarations; it was about this simple, shared experience. Chris might not be the most emotionally expressive person, but in his own way, he was trying.

And that effort meant more to me than any expensive gift ever could.

"Thank you," I said softly, squeezing his arm. "This really means a lot."

"Well, I hope you have a good place to put all these," he replied, a touch of sarcasm returning to his voice.

"Because my study is not turning into a library."

I laughed, rolling my eyes. "Don't worry, I have it covered."

After I got all the books I wanted, we made our way from the section and instead of going to the counter on the ground floor, Chris stopped walking and placed the baskets on a table, turning to me with a mischievous smirk spread playing on his lips.

I froze in my place, feeling my pulse race as he slowly strode towards me like a majestic wolf, his eyes on me. The way he moved, so confident and purposeful, sent a shiver down my spine.

"What are you up to?" I asked, trying to sound casual but failing to hide the tremor in my voice.

Chris stopped just inches from me, his gaze intense. "Just thought we could take a moment to enjoy this place properly. No rush, right?"

I swallowed hard, feeling the warmth of his presence envelop me. "No rush," I echoed, my voice barely a whisper.

He reached out and tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear, his touch lingering just a bit longer than necessary. "Good...because,"

Before he finished, he lifted my chin and his mouth met mine, burying his tongue while his hand traced my cheek then sank in my hair. My fingers pressed on his arms as I melted into his taste of mint and sugar, it was an addiction.

I preferred vanilla and cinnamon but I suppose the taste of Chris is much better.

He pulled me closer to him, we were pressed against eachother and there, I felt him growing hard, excitement and anticipation rushed through my body. Chris's hand gently closed behind my neck as he deepend the kiss, slowly slowly striding and having me pressed against a shelf.

I opened my eyes and looked above him, ironically we were under the romance section. Chris removed his mouth from mine, his hand still around my neck, while his other hand went to the hem of my skirt, tracing the line.

"Because what?" I pulled back, arching a brow as I challenged him, my voice breathless yet defiant.

"Because," he murmured, his breath hot against my ear, "I want to make sure you have the best time."

His fingers slid up my thigh, sending shivers through me. The intensity of his gaze, combined with the firmness of his grip on my neck, made my heart race. Every touch, every movement, was deliberate and electrifying.

"Chris..." I whispered, my resolve wavering as his hand inched higher, the thrill of being in such a public, yet intimate setting and the chance someone might walk in on us only heightened the sensations coursing through me.

"Shh," he hushed me softly, his lips brushing against my earlobe, his thumb brushing my bottom lip.

"No rush, remember?"

His words echoed in my mind, the promise of slow, tantalizing pleasure as his hand reached the edge of my panties. I gasped, my body responding eagerly to his touch, leaving fire in their wake.

Chris's lips found mine again, more demanding this time. I could feel his desire, his need, and it mirrored my own. Our kiss deepened, becoming a battle of wills and passion, his hand tightened around my neck, a mix of dominance and tenderness that left me breathless.

With a smooth glid, he slid my panties to the side and a finger found its way through my wet folds. I jerked as he inserted another, a knowing smirk spread across his face looking at how easily and quickly wet and turned on I get.

Paced pumps, breathless kisses and pinned among the shelves of love stories and whispered promises, only added a layer of forbidden excitement to our encounter. He pressed the heel of his palm against my clit, making a soft moan gasp free out of me.

"Mmm... you're clenching me babydoll."

My lips parted, I wanted to say things but nothing came out at how good his fingers curled inside of me, my blood was on liquid fire. The only sensations were pleasure, want and pure need.

Time lost its meaning along with my senses, Chris had pushed my top up, his mouth was closed around my sensitive nipple and his digits pushed deeper inside me. He was licking, sucking, teasing, stretching and playing with me tearing moans, and cries from my throat.

He then sank onto his knees, parting my legs, circling my sensitized clit with the tip of his tongue. His chin grazed my skin as he kissed the nub, his breath fanning over me and burying his face in my heat, drawing my clit into his mouth and sucked.

"Oh my...oh my God..."

I instantly arched against the shelf, the books shook threatening to fall but thankfully they were pushed to the back. My hand went over my face to cover my squeals and whimpers escaping and echoing off the quiet walls, I felt his eyes watch me from beneath me.

Every thought was erased away from my brain as pleasure fogged like a mirror after a hot shower.

My hand fisted his hair as his teeth grazed over my swollen, tender clit, going from slow and languid licks, lapping away my arousal like a man possessed. My hips bucked, seeking for relief but Chris's strong fingers held me in place.

Chris had an uncanny ability to make me feel like I was seeing stars during the day, even when we were under a roof. His hands and mouth worked magic on me, leaving me breathless, trembling, and craving more.

The tingles of an orgasm began to build deep within me as he expertly moved his tongue over my clit, each stroke pushing me closer to the edge. The tension coiled tighter and tighter inside me until I knew I couldn't hold it in any longer. If I tried, I would surely implode.

The pressure finally erupted as my orgasm washed over me like a tidal wave crashing onto the shore, making my body shudder uncontrollably. My thighs trembled as I came, my arousal dripping down my legs and onto his face. 

But Chris wasn't done with me yet. Not by a long shot. One moment I was arching against the shelf praying for the books not to fall on us as he tongue fucked me, the next I was on my back, pinned on the floor.

He switched positions just like that.

"You have quite an interesting taste in literature sweetheart," Chris murmured into my ear, his hot breath sending a shiver down my spine.

His words were teasing, but they carried a dark edge that made my pulse quicken. As he spoke, he pushed my skirt up, a cool air hitting my exposed and vulnerable self.

"Wha—what?" I stammered, my own voice sounded different to my ears. "Did you read—" Heat flushed up my cheeks when I realised he must have flipped through one of the romance books from the stack.

Oh God.

"I might have read a page or two," he admitted, his tone light, but there was something in his eyes—something dark and full of intent. He pushed his tongue against the inside of his cheek, a simple gesture that made my core throb with renewed need.

"And I thought, why not create our own scene?"

Before I could even form a response, Chris's mouth crashed down on mine in a kiss that was both punishing and possessive. It was as if he was punishing me for the guilty pleasure of my reading material, but also claiming his approval in the most primal way possible.

He held my hips with a bruising force, I dimly heard the rasp of the zipper and then he hammered inside me in one powerful thrust. The sudden invasion made me gasp out, the sharp sound echoing softly in the confined space.

My nails dug into the carpet as I clung to him, one hand gripping his stiff bicep. God, I could never get used to the feel of him inside me.

So hot, so huge, so impossibly hard.

Every time he entered me, it felt like the first time, my body straining to accommodate him. The sensation was overwhelming, making my head spin and my body tremble.

A strong hand came over my mouth to silence my embarrassing moans, my eyes fluttered open, meeting Chris's intense gaze. The corner of his mouth twitched in a knowing smug smirk as he continued thrusting into me with relentless precision.

"Shh," he chuckled as he continued wrecking me. "You don't want someone to hear how much you love being fucked in your little haven, now do you?"

The fact that someone actually could walk in on us was disastrous but there was no time to process anything other than the feel and the heat of him against me, flesh against flesh as he shattered me apart, the pressure and pleasure was beyond ecstacy. 

The telltale tingles built inside me again, threatening to spill over as he took me apart piece by piece.

"Your pussy is made for me sweetheart. Fuck you're so tight." He growled,his voice thick with lust as he watched me writhe beneath him.

My body responded to his every word, my muscles clenching around his cock as the nerves in my stomach coiled tighter and tighter. My heart pounded frantically against my ribcage, and I could feel the tension building to an almost unbearable level.

I hadn't imagined Chris would surprise me with a whole day at a bookstore when he proposed we go out. And I definitely hadn't imagined we'd end up like this—fucking in the romance section, surrounded by books, with nothing but the tall shelves to seclude us from reality.

"God, Chris..." I gasped, my voice breaking as I felt the pressure reach its peak.

"My name sounds so good when you moan it baby," He groaned or chuckled. I couldn't say.

I was too lost in my world of lust, I forgot my own name. Everything else faded away until all that existed was the feel of him inside me, driving me to madness.

Tears leaked out of my eyes at the sensation, fingers clawing and mouth falling open in a reckless cries. Thrust after thrust, another toe-curling orgasm gushed through me like fire rushing and igniting in a pool of gasoline, bursting stars behind my eyes.

I fell into a boneless mess. 

Chris groaned and I felt his cock twitching uncontrollably as a hot load of cum gathered inside me. He slowed his movements, his breath coming in heavy pants as he rode out the last of his own release.

He leaned down, softly brushing his lips against mine, and I could feel the smile that lingered there—a smile of triumph, of satisfaction, of a man who knew exactly what he was doing to me.

We hung there, breathless and tangled together, the aftershocks of my climax still rippling through me. My mind was still swimming in the aftermath, trying to process the sheer intensity of what had just happened, when I felt Chris begin to move.

He let out a deep, satisfied chuckle as he got up, adjusting his clothes with a nonchalant ease. With just one casual swipe of his hand through his hair, he looked completely composed—flawless, even—as if he hadn't just fucked me into another dimension.

Meanwhile, I was a mess. My legs felt like jelly, barely able to hold me up as I struggled to regain my balance. Every nerve in my body was still buzzing, my core pulsing with a heartbeat all its own. I most definitely won't be able to walk tomorrow or probably right now.

My breath hitched lightly when I felt him clean me up with a tissue. A tender gesture that made my heart ache in the most bittersweet way.

Chris helped me get up and fixed my clothes, smoothing down my hair. His fingers brushed lightly over my tear-stained cheeks, lingering just a second longer than necessary, as if savoring the feel of my skin. The silence between us spoke volumes. 

Chris wasn't one to use words carelessly, and in moments like this, his actions said more than any words ever could. I clung to him, still trying to find my footing, both physically and emotionally.

His eyes were on me, those burning brown eyes that seemed to see straight through me, and even though he didn't say a word, I could feel the intensity of his gaze.

We've had sex countless times by now, but every time it feels different—more intense, more profound. But this time, this was something else entirely. It was as if he had pushed me beyond my limits, only to pull me back again, leaving me reeling from the sheer force of it.

This was, hands down, the best one yet, and I could feel it in every aching muscle and every rapid heartbeat.

My eyes drifted down to the damp stain on the green carpet, a vivid reminder of just how lost I had been in the throes of pleasure. Embarrassment flooded me, my face flushing hot as I imagined the poor soul who would have to clean up after us.

I glared up at Chris, half-expecting him to share in my mortification, but instead, he just smirked, his expression completely unapologetic, not giving a flying fuck.

"Let's get your books home." He wrapped an arm around my waist, taking the book baskets from the table and walking me to towards the elevator to get to the ground floor.

I couldn't process how he went from fucking me on the floor like it was the last day on the planet to smiling casually as if he had been doing nothing but accompany me with my shopping spree.

Once we made it to the ground floor, Chris placed the baskets on the counter and the woman behind started scanning the books. He payed for them and I saw him leave a huge tip to the staff, again my face flushed crimson.

A young boy brought the bags to the car and placed them in the trunk, after settling in, we made our home.

"Enjoyed your day?" Chris's eyes were fixed on the road, but I knew he meant more than just the shopping.

"Every moment of it." I looked at him, those silver hoop earrings glinted in the daylight, drawing attention to his strong jawline.

Chris's eyes fell on me for a second, he nodded, a small, satisfied smile playing at the corner of his lips.

"Good. I'm glad to hear that."

As we drove through the city streets, Chris's hand gently slipped with mine, the comfortable silence between us spoke volumes. The day had been filled with more than just books, it had been a day of connection, of tentative steps towards understanding each other better.

When we arrived to the mansion, Chris carried the bags inside, placing them on the living room coffee table. I followed him, feeling a sense of contentment that had been absent for so long.

He turned to me, brushing a lock of hair behind my ear, I instinctively leaned into his palm, savoring the rare moment of tenderness.

"I don't want to leave, but um..." His words trailed off, a hand rubbing the back of his neck but I knew what he was going to say next.

My heart sank just a little bit.

"Go on," I said, his expression softed, a flicker of something unspoken passing between us. "I'm gonna spend the all the time reading while you're at work."

I played a soft smile, knowing he had to go back to his responsibilities. Chris sighed, his thumb gently grazing my cheek.

"I'll try to be back soon." He said softly, a rare hint of reluctance in his eyes. "I know," my smile widened just a bit.

"Alright," He pulled me to another bruising kiss, breathing me in as he bit my bottom lip. "I'll see you later."

As he turned to leave, I couldn't help but feel a mix of emotions. There was the usual frustration of him having to rush off, but also a newfound appreciation for the tiny effort he was making to connect with me.

I watched him drive away, the mansion fell into a deep silence again as I went back inside and picked up the special edition book that had caught my eye earlier.

Running my fingers over the intricate cover, I felt a surge of gratitude for this day and for Chris's efforts to make it memorable.

I opened the book, ready to lose myself in its pages, knowing that Chris and I were slowly finding our way to each other, one small step at a time.

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

Taglist: @bowsnbang @bangchannie97lov @hwasmints @laurenalpha123 @mrs-hwangh @greyyeti @sociallyawkward18 @stephanieeeyang @piscesrising01 @jaquisos @de-uns-tempos-pra-ca @princess-sunshyn @my-neurodivergent-world @ladyeagle @nchhuhi

If you want to be added to the taglist, let me know <3 (If I missed someone please lmk)

Thank you for reading!

xx,Ivyy

Next Chapter

[kinmokusei-stars]

Week 1 of October InuKou Costumes!

🌹Royal and Knight!⚔️

I've decided I'll be a bit flexible with myself on the exact days I post these! This was planned for yesterday, but I got a bit busy, so it's coming out today! ( ´ ꒳ ` )

I had this idea for the first week of costumes to be Kouko and Inuyasha as a princess/prince and a knight!

It's not something brought up often, since it's more related to her backstory and childhood than anything too important to her current path in life, but Kouko was born a princess, which is crazy to think about? It's such a stark contrast to her situation nowadays, and that really shows just how much her life changed when her family was attacked. The poor girl really got her entire life upended and sent down an whole different path. Though nowadays she doesn't mind how things ended up for her, she's grown to be a completely separate person from her past, which is why this prompt was kind of hard?

I don't draw her in frilly or overly feminine outfits too often, so it was a trip to put her in a princess-y dress. I figured I'd put her in something more simple and less flashy compared to a lot of princess dresses, even if it's still definitely not her normal style LMAO I was going to give her those fun puffy sleeves that the dress I was referencing had, but I really didn't want to cover up her arm scars, and she doesn't tend to enjoy wearing sleeves at all, so they're gone! She's rightfully a bit bewildered by the whole situation, the whole outfit is a bit out of her ballpark.

Though, once I had the idea of Princess and Knight, then I pondered a bit more on who I wanted to be the royal and who I wanted to be the knight, because Kouko also fits the knight role really well! She's devoted and loyal, and definitely protective enough to pull it off, even if she knows that Inuyasha can definitely hold his own in a fight just as much as she can LMAO It fits her style a lot more naturally with how she grew to be over the years!

So of course, because I have no self control, I caved and just did both, which is part ofwhy this one took a bit longer than expected! I'm definitely more proud of Knight Kouko and Prince Inuyasha than the other, but I'm decently happy with both!

I also wanted the background to look like those pleasant paintings and old picture books I've always really liked, and I love how it came out, even if it's different from what I usually do! ⸜(*ˊᗜˋ*)⸝

(I'm also back on my soapbox about boys deserving to receive flowers too. Inuyasha gets a little rose here from his girlfriend LMAO)

[satureja13]

The Boys rode through the pouring rain across the Bridge over to Koh Sahpa. And the horses stopped by a stilt house. Jack: "Are we going to stay here? Woah! When I showed Ji Ho the beach after he arrived we saw a stilt house and we talked about how awesome they are and we asked Arturo if we can buy a lot here to build one..." Vlad: "Arturo told us. Kiyoshi, Jeb and I built it to make it up to you. It's not finished yet. You were only supposed to see it later. " (So that was their secret project!) So Kiyoshi built this house. For Jack. (Even Lunatic is stunned ^w^)

So Jeb built this house. For Saiwa. Sai had put all his hopes in that circuit board because he has no idea how he is supposed to look Jeb in the eyes again after they 'agreed' that Sai should give in to a fake relationship with Kiyoshi to bring him back from the tree. Because they thought Kiyoshi is Saiwa's fated mate. But he wasn't. Saiwa stared into nowhere... Before Sai could follow these thoughts further he got distracted by the noise of the singing birds. Why are they so loud? Bird... (They really are so loud here ö.Ö') He has no idea how to go on.

Vlad: "Look after them and try to finish the rest." (Yeah I know. Who would trust crazy Jack with looking after anyone? Usually he is the one they need to look after and care for. But Vlad trusts him. Because he knows the Jack behind his disorders and antics (and the ones who know adult Jack from our other stories know it too :3) And he knows that he can rely on him when it comes to it.) Jack: "You're leaving? What about the Bond?" Vlad: "Jeb and Kiyoshi need me. They are broken too. I will feel it when it's due to charge the Bond."

Jack: "When you feel it Ji Ho already suffers. He has the deeper connection to the Bond. Don't let him beg for it. The intervals are always the same when you don't use it's magic. Just come here in time and do it." Vlad: "Uhm. Ok." Vlad and his foolish pride and reluctance. Luci had been bolder... And Ji Ho often said that he doesn't mind physical intimacy with Vlad.

Then it was time for Vlad to leave - to look after Jeb and Kiyoshi... He is hesitating.

And Jack took Saiwa inside to give them time to get their stuff together. Oh my, after all they already did with each other they still behave like this...

Vlad: "The Bond. I will be back before..." Ji Ho: "Ok."

They held on to each other a bit longer than usual. Maybe the Bond hates it to see them apart or maybe they will miss each other. Who knows?

Vlad left and Ji Ho went inside. Ji Ho: "Oh. He's already sleeping. I hope he changes his mind about Tiny Can. I could really need some help from a therapist. Even if it's only an AI." Jack: "An AI is even better! He knows everything and is always up to date with the latest research and discoveries! He must have scanned countless articles, diagnoses, therapy approaches, research papers... I'm so ready to try it and get stuff fixed in my furry brain."

They sighed and turned around to take in the view. And just across the river there was the stilt house they had admired a few weeks ago. Just the one Kiyoshi, Vlad and Jeb built is so much more beautiful. Because they built it with love 💞

'There's a message in the wild And I'm sending you this signal tonight You don't know how desperate I've become And it looks like I'm losing this fight

In your world I have no meaning Though I'm trying hard to understand And it's my heart that's breaking Down this long distance line tonight

But I ain't missing you at all Since you've been gone away I ain't missing you No matter what I might say'

Missing You - John Waite Link above leads to the MV on youtube

From the Beginning  ~  Underwater Love ~  Latest 🕹️ 'Therapy Game' from the beginning ▶️ here 📚 Previous Chapters: Chapters: 1-6 ~ 7-12 ~ 13-16 ~ 17-22 ~ 23-28

[skunkes]

OK sharing my surgery healing update fotos now that its been one month! Was nervous abt posting but I consider it an important part of detailing the process which I've been trying to commit to especially since I myself was looking for every post about the experience and aftermath that I could find, in preparation ^_^

Warning for of course exposed stomach and day-of-surgery incisions (they are not gruesome but it is reddened, irritated, raised skin)

First photo taken approximately 12 hours (7 pm) after first incision (7 am) on August 7th. This is a photo taken through the mirror.

Second photo taken September 8th ^_^ this is a photo taken directly with camera.

(I was gonna include a photo from late august of the midway point but it just seemed really gross to post the flaking peeling surgical glue 😭)

speaking of which the majority of it was removed at my August 27th post op appointment (doctor was very excited to peel and yank that shit off of me. Thank god bc i was scared LOL) and it took a bit more gentle scrubbing after every shower but the rest of the glue was rubbed off/removed by the beginning of September! ^_^

(I am still working on fully removing the belly button incision glue but that's because I hate touching that area. Like just in general. i hate belly button i hate it so much 😭)

1 month later there's not any active consistent pain, though sometimes I do feel random aches over the incisions, and last week I accidentally jabbed a thumb directly into one while adjusting my pants at a store and had to double over for a bit. LOL

Also still itches sometimes, but its a regular "i forgot thats where my scars are" itch and not the "i have to tear myself open to scratch the inside" itch i felt during some days of recovery

-

Adding this part for informational purposes also because I was worried about this when I was doing my research:

My first period after the surgery arrived on time, didn't feel any more painful than usual (though I did feel additional pain at the incision sites), and lasted the same amount of time. Although within those parameters there still was some unexpected variation I had to work around (as in: thinking it was dwindling down and then it Suddenly Coming Back.)

Idk that this is the Norm as I'd see people say that theirs was delayed post surgery, or hurt more, or hurt less, or Lasted longer, was shorter, more bleeding, less bleeding etc but this is what happened to me, so far at least ^_^ perhaps I'll shoot for a hysterectomy next. LOL

[beesmygod]

"A GHOST STORY" IS A WEBCOMIC I MAKE THAT I WILL BE RE-POSTING, GRADUALLY.

the top row is from 2013, the bottom row is from the 2018 re-draw. while the panel progression in the re-draw is much better (as well as the consistency in sound effects and gutters), i think it was a mistake to change the black eyed kid's sniffing posture to the one where he's not clearly trying to get a big whiff of the air. whiff whifff...like an animal in the Savannah.

posting this so far has been making me feel very, very sad. but i have a feeling that most of my really bad feelings are connected more to the generalized anxiety of having to put work i no longer stand by on display for people to judge. these posts are, ostensibly, supposed to entice you into reading the comic that has consumed my life for 10 years (and i think about near constantly). but the idea of trying to convince people that something i made is good enough to spend their time on is a really stomach-churning task. it is frightening. i do not like myself enough to ask people to make investments in me both financially and in terms of their free time.

also the world at large is very bad right now. it is hard to navigate the world and "hustle" when everyone is doing so poorly and you know it's annoying to be subjected to someone's mediocre creation that they have outsized feelings about. the question i always ask myself when i hit print on my comic is "is this something i would read?" and the answer is still no. but i'm getting closer. i feel like i've been honing a knife edge for a decade but it's nowhere close to being up to the standard i want. but it's not like the knife isn't getting sharper. it is. but is it beneficial to ask others to help me sharpen it? what are they getting out of it?

regardless, this is the comic i was capable of making at the time. both times. the top row pages reflect the best efforts of someone working a desk job and going to school and the bottom row reflects the efforts of someone who worked on these pages in between their usual 2x a week update schedule (when possible, the re-draw took several years to make)

why am i making "A Ghost Story"? first, it was because it was bursting at the seams with ideas and had the energy to execute them. even if the end result was sloppy, it was freed from my mind. now its because i can see It. i can see the arc the story and the characters are taking and i want to shepherd them there. there's something at the end there, if not for me than for them. just to get them to where they need to go and where they need to be. is that enough? these things that only exist and matter to me actually hold on that thought is way too big for this already huge post. maybe next time.

short version of that long thought, for now: i am deeply troubled by wondering why people do the things they do, and push my dolls around to understand the actions of other people and also myself. there's more to people than the surface and rudimentary opening chapters of my comic were looking to explore. i needed to go deeper. i want to know what drives people. and i want to make people laugh while doing it.

---

♥ read the comic: A Ghost Story ♥ support the comic for as little as $1 a month on Patreon ♥ pay what you want for the re-draw of the first chapter on itch.io

you can block the tag "#AGS repost" to keep this off your dash

[sarahjtv]

My Hero Academia is Officially Ending and I'm Fucking Coping 😭

So, it was officially announced early today, June 24th, 2024, by Shueshia and mangaka, Kohei Horikoshi, that My Hero Academia/Boku no Hero Academia will officially end in 5 chapters on Chapter 430. The last chapter will be released at the beginning of August after 10 years of publication in Weekly Shonen Jump magazine if all goes well.

I woke up to this news. I'm sitting here on my laptop typing this as a way of coping tbh. On the outside, I'm numb and stunned. On the inside, I'M SCREAMING, CRYING, THROWING UP, MOURNING LIKE I LOST A LOVED ONE WTF 😭

*sigh* But, this was going to happen eventually. It was only a matter of when. When Horikoshi said that we would have more epilogue to cover, I thought "Maybe he'll give us 10 more chapters!" Turns out it is 6-7 chapters instead... In Horikoshi's defense, 6-7 chapters are much longer than what most mangaka have given us for epilogues to their stories. I'd rather have him give us 5 more chapters of an epilogue than rush it in 1-2. Plus, if possible, we could potentially get 19-20 pages per chapter which might be just enough to wrap everything up. And since final chapters of manga tend to be longer than usual, we could get extra pages in the last chapter to finish everyone's arcs and the story properly.

Still, it's so wild to see a series I have loved for years and have such a strong attachment to end as I am following it. I have been a part of many fandoms before and have stuck around them for years (Pokémon, Supernatural, Doctor Who, Breaking Bad, and many more), but it's not often that I've been there there to see a series come to it's conclusion. Sometimes that can turn out well (Breaking Bad) and other times I've seen it end badly (Supernatural; only read about it and it was not great. I bounced after season 13? and I am so sorry to the fandom). My Hero Academia is one of the very few series I will see through to the end.

I'm really coping here, honestly. I've been a fan of My Hero Academia since 2018. I first heard about the series randomly through the internet, but I didn't fully introduce myself to it until I listened to a cover of The Day on YouTube (I forget the artist, I'm so sorry). I thought the song was so cool and that led to me listening to more covers of MHA OPs (Peace Sign is still GOATed btw). This eventually led me to the manga and the anime where I became truly immersed in the series. I started reading the manga around the Joint Training Arc (I think) which was definitely an interesting time to read the manga because the chapters where so short due to Horikoshi dealing with health and I think moving conflicts at the time. It was still an enjoyable arc and enough to keep me interested in reading from the beginning. I want to say I started the anime around season 3?, but I started at the beginning and worked my way up from there. "Shoto Todoroki: Origin" was the episode that finally solidified my love for the series and is still my favorite episode of the series.

To say that MHA has an important place in my heart is an understatement. (⚠️Warning: very quick mention of suicide) I was very sad and depressed in the latter half of 2018. My life didn't feel like it was going anywhere and I was close to giving up entirely. (⚠️ ). Finding and loving MHA during that time honestly might have saved my life. As strange as it sounds, it was one of the few things that brought me genuine happiness at the time. I had something to look forward to every week and it was thrilling. I still remember debating whether Deku or Shoto was my favorite character. Shoto took the top spot in my heart, but Deku is a very close second 🩵💚.

Seeing MHA end is heartbreaking, honestly. I'm watching something I truly love come to an end. We'll still have the anime, movies, and spin-off series to keep us busy for the next few years, but the manga that started it all is coming to a close. It feels so, so surreal. God, is this how the Haikyuu fandom felt when it’s manga ended? My hope is that this fandom can be kept alive long after the series is over. The MHA fandom DEFINITELY has it's flaws, but it also has a lot of good in it too. I have seen incredible art and fanfics come from this fandom. I have laughed and hyped up some of the best moments of MHA with people who love it too. I know that the fandom is collectively mourning its end and I know we'll all cry bittersweet tears when it ends. If anything, I am glad to see Kohei Horikoshi end his momentous story on his own terms. I hope it ends up being one of the best manga endings in recent Shonen Jump like how Haikyuu's was. I think Horikoshi can do it. Regardless of how it ends, My Hero Academia will be one of my favorite pieces of fiction. I am really glad to be here to celebrate it.

[catboybiologist]

1 month HRT update and journal thingy!

So as I said in my pinned post, I'm gonna be doing a monthly kind of progress check on HRT. Well, it's been 32 days, so here it is! Here's some measurements of interest:

But, I found that the raw measurements, and a single "other column" wasn't sufficient to really catalogue my experience. So I wrote a long, probably overly detailed account of some of the things I've experienced in the past month.

And holy shit, what a month it's been.

So first off, lets start with what’s not happening. Some good, some bad. I think I missed the skin softness gene or something. I’ve really noticed no change in skin texture, and that’s often cited as the first noticeable physical change from HRT. My skin was somewhat soft before, but nothing like the transfemmes I know irl, so this was a bit disappointing. But in all honesty, it’s not that big of a deal.

The other thing that I haven’t noticed yet is a reduced aerobic capacity or physical ability. I’m sure this will come in time, but the interesting thing here is that one of my main physical activities, freediving, is actually a far more direct measurement of aerobic capacity than most others. I can’t do this in nearly a consistent enough way to actually log it, but my casual breath hold times in the couple of times I’ve been freediving since starting HRT haven’t changed. On a fairly standard dive, I usually stay down 60-70 seconds, and that’s still true. With good prep and good air conservation on the bottom (I like to hold onto rocks and kelp, and stay motionless while looking around lol), I can get 90 seconds or beyond (I don’t like pushing it). Part of the problem is that so much of this is variable, and is highly dependent on how good my equipment prep is that day (insulation and weighting), water conditions (cold and rough=more energy=shorter dives), and my boy physiology (how much I’ve eaten, caffeine intake, etc). But in general, I haven’t noticed major physical fitness changes yet. 

Weight gain has been intermittent. I’ve always been a bit swingy on my weight, and can easily go +/- 5lbs in no time at all. At one point, I was 4lbs over my pre-HRT weight (3 week interval), but now I’m down to 1 pound over. My waist is slightly thinner than it was pre-HRT, but that seems to be normal fluctuation. Where did the extra 1-3lbs go? We’ll get to that, LOL.

My waist measurement hasn’t changed, but anecdotally, I do think there’s changes going on there. The 43 inches measurement is still at my widest point, around my thighs (which have always been pretty good). Now, however, I’m noticing what seems to be some growth on areas that aren’t covered by the exact circle I’m using to measure that. My butt seems slightly bigger, although I could just be lying to myself. Time will tell.

Onto the stuff that has changed!

Mood. Oh my god mood. My resting state is no longer a crackling misery. I don’t think I was ever suicidal because of dysphoria alone, but I was certainly pushed to that point far, far easier when it was a contributing factor. I also just… didn’t enjoy anything about my body. When I was happy, it was a distraction. Now, it’s already much better. I still don’t like my body. I got a long way to go. But, I’m seeing progress, and it’s been incredible.

Emotions overall have been more intense. I’ve had a couple of downswings, and I get misty eyed easier. I haven’t had a proper cry yet, though. I get excited about things again, which was a COMPLETELY dead feeling. And I have also gotten angry at some things, which is also something I killed as a teenager because I was scared of where it took me. It hasn’t been as uncontrollable as I expected, however, and the negative emotions I’m experiencing more viscerally have been immensely cathartic. 

            And then, there's the big one. Hopefully that's literal. And that's breast growth. Almost immediately I noticed some kind of perking up, but no breast bud formation and no immediate growth. At about week 2, I was able to feel the distinct disks of breasts buds under my nipples, and my bust size started increasing. Now, at 4.5 weeks in, my bust size is 1.5 inches larger than it was pre-HRT.

           This is ludicrously fast. As in, so fast it has me questioning if I'm actually intersex or something. I think my E levels will be enlightening.

I really, REALLY don’t want to get too hopeful. But overall, if some of these trends continue… I’m gonna get a LOT curvier. Honestly, my ideal body would be pretty tight and trim… but I’m fucking estatic anyways. I’m just really, really hoping that the breast growth trend continues, and also that the tiny observations I’ve made about a bigger butt and thinner waist are actually real. I don’t know how long I’ll be able to boymode like this LMAO.

There’s also the opposite fear: if my estrogen levels are too high, it could signal the end of “puberty” too early. It’s looking like a possibility, but I gotta wait until next week for my levels check.

There’s one final set of observations I wanna put here, but y’all gotta not be weird about it LOL. I WILL block you and erase this part if you treat this as anything more than impartial observations about myself. Got it? Good. NSFW warning for the next bit.

I want to make some remarks on libido and erogenous sensitivity in general, because that has also been one of the most notable changes.

First off, I heard so many stories about HRT killing libido. Holy fuck, this has not been true for me. I’m going crazy sometimes LOL. I absolutely have a somewhat higher libido on average, but its already changed the way its expressed itself.

First off, my entire body is more sensitive to erogenous soft touch. The right kind of touch and care on my waist will feel very similar to more traditional erogenous zones. I’ve NEVER had this before, and was completely blindsided by it. I’m absolutely fascinated by what neural change caused that, but its really cool even if I don’t know the underlying explanation.

Second off, my libido spikes and hot flashes sometimes. I think this is pretty typical of anyone going under a hormonal change, and tbh I’m not surprised.

Third off is the weirdest one, and something that I’ve asked other transfemmes about, and none have been able to answer. My chest sensitivity seems to be going through very distinct mini-cycles, on the approximate span of time being one full “cycle” per week. Essentially, when I started HRT, my chest first got very sore, itchy, and sensitive to sources of pain and itchiness. It stayed like that for a few days, and then all sensitivity to the area cut out. My nipples pre-HRT were always more sensitive than other cis men, and in this phase, they were actually less sensitive than they were pre HRT. This lasted another couple of days… and then there was a period of massively increased erogenous sensitivity. Soft touches made me wild, and I started wearing  bra not for the support, but to block my shirt from rubbing against them and distracting me. Holy FUCK, this phase is insane. And then after that, they went back to sore again, and then dead again, and then erogenous again. Right now, I’m in the erogenous “phase” of what I think is the fourth cycle here since I started HRT. I have no fucking clue what’s going on. It’s not the period that some trans women report getting, its not a monthly thing. It might just be my body adjusting strangely to new hormones in general, but yeah. Its weird, bc it seems like a pretty unique thing. 

So yeah. That’s a journal thing. I had a LOT more thoughts about HRT starting beyond just the initial measurements, because so much hit me way faster than I thought it would, so I wanted to write something long form. I think I’m going to write something similar each month along with my measurements update, but I expect future writing to be much, much shorter. It’s been incredible so far, but I’m guessing less will be novel- I think things will only be different when I change aspects of my HRT regimen. We’ll see.