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cowgurrrl · 11 months

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From the Dining Table

Pairing: rockstar!joel miller x actress!reader

Author’s note: I feel like I should just leave the author’s note blank because there’s nothing I can do to make it better

Summary: “The love was there. It didn’t change anything. It didn’t save anyone. There were just too many forces against it. But it still matters that the love was there.” [4.5k]

Warnings: oh it’s so sad, mentions of bullying, hard conversations, goodbyes, June ruining everyone’s night yet again

Red Dirt Girl becomes the number one movie in America the first weekend it's in theatres. Box office numbers are insanely high, promising a high payout for everyone involved, and people are already talking about sweeping the competition during awards season. Peter sent flowers to your house to congratulate you, and you and Lilly are scheduled to do as much press together as possible before you leave for Ireland. It's the best-case scenario. So, why can't you let yourself feel good about it?

Instead of basking in your accomplishments and the pride you feel for this project or going out to celebrate on the clear Friday night that settled over LA, you're packing boxes. You're only taking the things you can't live without, but going through your stuff and deeming what you need and don't is exhausting. The rooms in your house feel especially empty as you silently walk around, thinking your way through the tasks. You consider calling Ryan or your mom to fill the eerie quiet but decide against it. You'll have to talk about Joel if you call either of them, and you don't think you're ready for that yet. So, you open your notes app and try to find the strength to do at least one thing on your list of boring, necessary things that need to get done.

Your to-do list feels never-ending and daunting every time you glance at it. You haven't even thought about finding another manager despite it being the most pressing issue besides your move. You'd been with Mel since you came to LA and thought she'd be your manager for at least another four or five years. She wasn't perfect, but she always made sure your name was being spoken in the important rooms and fought tooth and nail for you. She was ruthless on your behalf. She got you to where you are today. That's not nothing.

You sigh and pull your hair into a ponytail, debating on going through your books or closet, when a loud knock sounds from downstairs. To call it a knock is a little generous. It sounds like someone is pounding on your door, but you're not expecting anyone. You grab the baseball bat from your bedroom closet before walking down the stairs and approaching the front door. Your knuckles turn white around the grip as you peek through the peephole to see who could possibly be pounding on your door at nine pm. The second you figure out who it is, you drop the bat and scramble to open the door.

"Ellie?" You ask, cutting her off mid-raised fist. Her hair is in her face, and she's wearing her glasses, your porch light casting shadows over her eyes. A big backpack is slung over her big hoodie, and she looks distraught.

"My dad said I can still talk to you if I want. Is that true?" She asks breathlessly, and you look behind her to see if Joel or Sarah dropped her off but find nothing. You take a deep breath and nod.

"Come in," you say, opening the door wider for her to come in. She takes two long strides over your threshold and into your home while you wrack your brain about how to handle this. Is there a handbook out there for talking to your ex-boyfriend's daughter? "Please tell me you didn't ride your bike here."

"No, I took an Uber." She says nonchalantly as you follow her into your living room. You chuckle and turn to ask her if she wants water or a snack but stop yourself short when you finally get a look at her black eye.

"Oh, my God! What happened?"

"It's not a big deal." She says as you force her to sit at your dining table, put her backpack down, and carefully take her glasses off her face. She winces when you put your hand on her chin to turn her face so you can see her eye better. Under the glow of your kitchen lights, you find a swelling bruise on her jaw and a cut on her nose. How did you not see her injuries in the dark?

You rush around, gathering ice and a bandaid for her nose. She doesn't say anything as she sits there, looking pretty miserable, and your heart aches at the pout of her lips. You hand her an ice pack to hold to her head while you clean and bandage the cut across her nose. None of the bruises look especially scary, and despite a little blood staining her cheek, she's perfectly fine. You take out your phone flashlight and shine the light across her pupils, watching them dilate accordingly.

"Are you a nurse all of a sudden?" She asks, and you smile as you put your phone face down on the table in front of you.

"No, but I've played them enough on TV to know how to check for a concussion."

"Oh, is that the requirement?" She asks, and you hum. She fights a smile as she breaks eye contact with you to look down at her hands, which you notice are also bruised and cracked. "Dad told me you guys broke up." She says quietly. She looks so defeated with her slouched posture and nervous foot tapping. You know now is not a time to lie to her.

"Yeah, we did."

"Why?"

"It's complicated."

"That's exactly what Dad said," she says. The idea of you and Joel parroting each other from opposite sides of the city pulls all the air from you and leaves you floundering. "I'm not a kid. You can tell me what happened." And she's right. She's fourteen. She's old enough to understand how relationships work, but you don't know if it's your place to tell her what happened. You don't know what you're allowed to tell her. You don't know if you're overstepping or how to fix it if you are.

"Sometimes," you start uncertainly, hoping the words will find you along the way. "Sometimes, two people can really care about each other, but that doesn't mean they'll be together forever or even good for each other." You say, and she makes a face.

"That sucks."

"Yeah, it does," you sigh. "Now that I told you that, can you tell me why you're showing up at my doorstep at nine o'clock at night?" You change the subject, and she bites her bottom lip as her foot tapping speeds up.

"Dad and I got into a fight."

"Does it have anything to do with your shiner?" You ask, nodding in the direction of her black eye.

"He didn't even try to hear my side of the story!"

"Which is?" You ask, and she very quickly dives into a story of a kid who's been picking on her all year. She said she told Joel what was happening, and he said something about ignoring it or talking to the teacher, which wasn't working. Apparently, the kids' parents are some big-shot tech people the teachers don't like dealing with, so they were just gonna let him do whatever until the end of the school year. Today, he said something along the lines of Sarah's mom coming back and Ellie's mom never being able to.

"And I never even knew her! But that's still my fucking mom, and I know how sensitive Sarah is about Angela, and I just got so angry that I hit him. A lot." She says like she's waiting for you to argue with her, but you can't even imagine yelling at her after hearing that. You open your phone and open your notes app.

"What's your teacher's name?" You ask. She tells you, and you have to take several deep breaths to stop yourself from finding the teacher's phone number and calling him to ask him if he thinks it's acceptable for a student to taunt another student's dead mother. "I'll call the school on Monday, okay? That kind of behavior is disgusting, and you were justified in what you did." You say, grabbing her hand and squeezing. She nods and smiles softly as she looks at you, her dark brown eyes looking right through you.

"You know, I don't usually like most of the people my dad dates," she says. "But I really liked you." Her use of the past tense cuts deep inside you, and you swallow thickly.

"Yeah. I like you too," you smile. "But, just because your dad and I aren't together anymore doesn't mean we can't still hang out or talk. I still care about you and your sister, and I've got quite a few movies I still need to watch." You say, and she nods, but there's something sad in her movements. You wonder if Joel told the girls about Ireland and how they reacted. Even if he didn't, Ellie is smart. She sees the boxes in your living room and the stuff piled together. She knows something is happening. Something that will impede future movie nights and emergency visits in the middle of the night. She shifts in her seat and lets go of your hand to tug at her ponytail, effectively retracting from you.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Anything."

"Did you love my dad?" She asks, and you bite the inside of your cheek, shaking your head. You think about lying or just not answering her question altogether, but that's not fair. She opened up to you. She trusted you, and you know what it feels like to have that trust broken or not reciprocated. You stare into her eyes and try to not get emotional.

"Yeah, I did."

"Did you break up because of us?"

"Honey, no. No, not at all," you say, perching on the edge of your chair so your knees are touching. "Your dad and I... have very different lives and schedules, and we tried. We really, really tried, but I don't think the timing is right for us. I don't know if it'll ever be right for us, but you and your sister had nothing to do with why we broke up, okay?" You say, slouching a little to get in her eye line, and she nods. "When I found out about you guys, I wasn't scared or intimidated. I was excited because your dad only ever told me how beautiful, and brilliant, and amazing, and kind his daughters were, but when I met you, you exceeded all that. You and Sarah have become two of my favorite people on this planet, and there will never be a time when I don't cheer you guys on or want what's absolutely best for you. I mean, if I didn't like you, do you think I would've opened the door?" You ask, and she laughs. The sound makes you smile, and you put your hand on her knee.

"You, Ellie Miller, are going to do incredible things, and I can't wait to watch it."

"Thank you." She says softly, and you nod. There, in your kitchen, you share a quiet moment with Ellie where neither of you needs to say anything more. The love says everything you can't bring yourself to voice just yet. If you squint, you can imagine what her mother must've looked like. All big eyes and toothy grins and wavy hair. But even without any actual Miller DNA flowing through her veins, you see Joel, too. You see how he raises his eyebrows or can't hide what he's thinking to save his life. You see his smile. You see his kindness and anxiety. You see all the best parts of him. This time with her feels like a warm hug, as much as a goodbye. Nostalgic and sad and welcome all at the same time. You don't know when you'll be able to sit at a table with Ellie Miller and just stare at her again, but you know if you never see her again, you can count yourself lucky to have met such an amazing young woman. She must make her mom so proud.

"You know I have to call your dad to tell him you're here, right?" You ask quietly, and she nods. You sit there for another second before grabbing your phone and walking into the next room to call Joel. Your heart pounds in your chest as you stare at his contact information, a picture of him with his tongue out still set as his contact photo. You took it on Facetime when he was still in Texas. He was complaining about how his stomach hurt from eating too much barbeque, and he was pretending to be dead. Even after everything, it still makes you smile. You press the call button before you lose the courage to do so. He picks up on the second ring.

"Hey, I can't really talk right now. Ellie and I got into a fight, and she ran off, and I don't know what to do. Has she talked to you? Do you know where she might be?" He says quickly, sounding frantic as he shuffles with something on the other end.

"Yeah, she showed up on my doorstep about thirty minutes ago. She's fine. A little upset, but she's safe." You say and hear him sigh with relief.

"Thank God. Okay, I'm comin' to get her. Can you keep her there until I can get to your house?"

"Of course."

"Thank you," he says. Neither of you immediately ends the call, but you don't say anything either. You can hear him breathing and imagine him standing there, flush with worry, and grinding his teeth despite the number of times you've told him to stop. It's the closest you two have been in weeks. "I really fucked up." He finally says, and you take a breath.

"All the best parents do."

"Yeah?" He asks, that familiar lilt returning to his voice. Your heart squeezes, and you nod.

"Yeah. Reminds your kids that you're human too."

"I guess," he says. It's quiet for another five seconds before he clears his throat. "Thank you for takin' care of her."

"She's a good kid."

"Yeah, she is."

"I'll..." you start. You know you're talking in circles but don't want to get off the phone. He waits you out. "I'll see you soon." You finally say, and the phone moves against his ear.

"See you soon." He says, hesitating before ending the call. You exhale and stare at his contact photo for another second before locking your phone and walking back to the main living area. Ellie has moved from the dining room table to the couch, an old leather-bound book in her hands. You tilt your head to read the title. Much Ado About Nothing. One of your favorite Shakespeare plays that you never got to do. You perch on the edge of the couch near Ellie and smile when she puts her book down to look at you.

"That book looks older than you."

"That's 'cause it is. It was my dad's in high school." She says, and you look at her, confused.

"What?"

"Yeah. He said his music teacher bought it for him or something. Dad really liked him. Wrote his name down in the acknowledgments in his first album and everything." She shrugs like it's nothing. Suddenly, you're back in New York with Joel, his hand over your heart as he listens to you recite a centuries-old monologue.

"He told me he didn't study Shakespeare in school."

"He probably didn't want you to know he's a massive nerd. He loves it. He made us go to the Globe Theatre when we were in England. It was actually pretty cool," she yawns. "I'm tired. Can I go lay down in one of the beds until my dad gets here?"

"Uh, yeah. Yeah, that's fine. My room is up the stairs and to the left. I just got new pillows, so that'll probably be the most comfortable." You say, your brain still struggling to piece together what she just said. She yawns again and gives you a thumbs-up before standing with her book in hand and disappearing up the stairs.

Joel told you he didn't know anything about something you, apparently, both love. Why? Was he quizzing you? Was he trying to figure out if you actually know what you're talking about? Or was he trying to get another perspective? Did he pretend not to know so you could explain it to him in your own way? How the fuck did you not know? You want to call and ask him all these things, but you don't. You wait.

You rotate between anxiously pacing your living room, checking on Ellie (who's snoring in your bed with the book open next to her), organizing and reorganizing your stuff into boxes. Anything to keep your mind busy until Joel can get there. From the time you ended the call to when your front door opened and closed quietly, twenty minutes had passed, but it felt like a lifetime. Joel walks into the living room like it's his own house and smiles when he sees you, looking around the room for Ellie. He wearing his own glasses and a plain black shirt with jeans. The bags under his eyes are prominent, and his hair is messy. He looks exhausted.

"She went upstairs to lie down and fell asleep. I didn't want to wake her up." You answer his unspoken question, and he nods, his shoulders visibly dropping.

"No, that's okay. I'm glad she's gettin' some rest," he says, sighing deeply. "Did she tell you bout our fight?"

"A little bit, yeah," you say, and he grimaces. You glance between the place where you and Ellie were sitting and him. "Do you wanna sit?" You ask, and he nods. Carefully, without even grazing each other, you sit across from him and stare at him. You don't know what you're supposed to say. You don't know if you're supposed to say anything.

"You still doin' that movie with Pike?" He beats you to it, and you nod. There's no frustration or anger in his question, only curiosity.

"I leave for Ireland in two weeks."

"Ireland's beautiful."

"It is." You say, not sure how else to respond. He shifts in his seat and looks at his hands as he nervously taps a rhythm into your table.

"Thank you again for takin' her in and makin' sure she was safe. I really appreciate it." He says.

"I'm just happy she knew she could come here."

"Me too," he says. "Can we... do you wanna... I just need to say I'm sorry. I never wanted to hurt you, but I did, and I'm sorry. I should've been better and more honest and less of a dick. You didn't deserve that." He word vomits, and your fingers twitch to reach for his. You take a deep breath and stare at him, watching his emotions play out behind his glasses.

"Thank you for apologizing," you say. "And I'm sorry, too. For everything. I wish things could be different."

"We could start over. Maybe try again," he says, his voice sad like he's trying, but he knows your answer won't change. "I don't... I don't know how to do this. But I wanna learn. I wanna learn for you." His words cut straight through to your heart, and your eyes flutter shut. You pinch the inside of your thigh to stop tears from forming, and take a shaky breath. He doesn't rush you. When you open your eyes, he's staring at you like you hung the moon and the stars.

"Sarah's gonna need you as she figures her mom out. It's gonna be hard, and she loves you more than I've ever seen a teenage girl love her dad. Ellie's gonna feel out of place, and she's gonna need you too. It wouldn't be fair to any of you to add this," you gesture between the two of you. "To that mix. It'd be too much. None of us would feel good about it. We'd all walk away a little burned and lot pissed off. I don't want that for us." You say, and he nods.

"It's a nice dream." He says sadly.

"It is," you agree. "Can I ask you a question?"

"'Course."

"When did it stop being fake for you?" You ask. He shakes his head, and his Adam's apple bobs.

"It was never fake for me. It just took me a little longer to figure out," he says, and you pinch your thigh again. "What bout you?"

"Texas," you admit, only a little ashamed at how late your answer is in comparison. "When you called me every day from Texas. That's when it stopped being fake for me," a tear spills from your eye, and Joel wipes it away before you can. His thumb is warm and familiar, and you almost lean into his touch before it can disappear completely. "This sucks."

"Yeah, it does."

"Do I, at least, get to know what songs on the newest album are about me?" You joke, and he laughs. He presses his lips together and rests his head on his hand as he looks at you.

"All of 'em," he says. "All of 'em are about you. Bout meetin' you or the way you talk in your sleep, but a lot of 'em are about New York."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"That was a good time," you say. "Ellie, um... Ellie told me about your trip to the Globe Theatre. Told me all about how much her dad loves Shakespeare," he chuckles like a kid caught with candy, and you smile. "Why'd you tell me you didn't know anything about it?"

"I don't know," he shrugs. "I really don't. I was thinkin' bout it the other day, and I just remembered seein' how much you loved it. Your eyes got real wide, and you got so excited, and I just... wanted to hear you talk about it. I think I would've stayed there with you all day if I could've." He says. You have to look away from him to hide to tears pooling in your eyes.

This shouldn't be this hard. You're supposed to meet someone you love, and nothing else matters, and you get to be with that person forever. It's hard, but you get your whole lives to figure it out together. Who did you hurt in a past life that took this opportunity away? It's not fair. You want to rip the sky apart and scream at God and demand an explanation. You want someone to blame. You want more time. You want him, and not just the good parts that made you fall in love with him. You want the broken and ridged parts he's still hiding from you. You want the parts he hates. You want to lay them out on the table and show him you don't flinch when they catch the light.

He puts his hand on your shoulder as tears fall from your eyes, and you sniffle. His thumb presses soothingly into your skin, and you let him. You shouldn't, but you do. You don't fall into his arms and sob like you want to. No, just like every juncture of your life thus far, you let yourself cry quietly and without fuss because there are things to do. And when you're done, you turn to look at him and see tears staining his cheeks too. You cover his hand with yours and squeeze his fingers, and he takes a deep breath.

"What are we gonna do now?" He asks. You pull his hand off your shoulder and hold it in your lap, both your hands covering his large one. You smile through your tears and kiss the top of his hand.

"I'm gonna go to Ireland, and you're gonna release your album. It'll hit the top of the charts overnight, and people will be singing your praises from the rooftops and speculating on what different songs mean like they always do. I'll lie in interviews and say I haven't listened to it, but I will because it'll be yours. You and the girls and Tommy'll go on tour, and I'll be there filming, and we'll try to talk when we can, but our schedules will get in the way until we don't think about each other all the time. I'll probably lose my mind because it rains so much in Ireland, and you'll go from selling out stadiums to crying at Sarah's graduation. And we'll both work way more than we should. And life'll go on like we were never really here," you say. "And maybe one day, when we're in LA at the same time, and nothing is stopping us and our schedules align, we'll get a coffee. And we'll talk. And we'll try again." You wipe Joel's tears away and try to keep yourself from falling apart.

"I'll mark it on my calendar." He says, and you laugh. You squeeze his hand and nod.

"I'm counting on it, Miller."

You sit there for a few more minutes before you stand and hug him. It's quick. It has to be, but it's enough to settle your heart for a moment. Joel goes upstairs, scoops Ellie in his arms, and carefully carries her out to his car. He buckles her in and turns on the air conditioning so she doesn't get too hot in the California night. You stand outside, watching him be a dad, with your arms crossed over your chest. He shuts the door quietly and walks over to you.

"I hope you have a lot of fun in Ireland." He says sincerely.

"Thank you," you say. "I hope you have a great tour."

"Thanks," he nods. He looks over his shoulder to check on Ellie in the passenger seat before turning back to you. "I should get her home. She's had a long day."

"Of course."

"I'll, uh... I'll see you around, okay?" He asks, and your heart jumps to your throat.

"I'll see you around, Joel." With that, he walks to the driver's side door, and you walk back toward your house, the space between you growing and growing as you get further away. Your chest hurts, and you know you're gonna go inside to cry some more, but you don't turn around. Not until he calls your name.

"I love you," he says from where he's standing in front of his truck. "And I don't expect you to say anything or change your mind, but I wanted you to know. I love you." Your hands are shaking, and your throat feels like it's tightening, but you manage to give him a weak smile.

"I love you, too."

And then, he gets in his car and drives away with his daughter in the front seat. You go back to your empty house and your piles of stuff, and you cry, and in the back of your mind, you think, if I never speak to Joel Miller again, I think that's okay. I think it has to be.

#one for the money two for the show #rockstar!joel #the last of us #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel tlou #the last of us x reader #joel miller fic #joel miller the last of us #tlou au #the last of us au #I can’t believe I forgot my tags

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heliads · 3 years

Text

Never Trust Your Friends

Y/N might have feelings for Newt, the newly arrived blond runner. Newt might have feelings for Y/N, the second in command who’s been in the Glade longer than anyone except Alby. When Minho and Alby assign them both to work together on a project, they’re sure it won’t end well.

masterlist

If he were smart, Newt would not be staring. He would be focused on his friends, on the bubble of chatter surrounding him. He would most certainly not be staring at the girl and boy across the Glade who stand together, speaking in hushed tones. They’re leaning against a wall of the Homestead, exchanging words as their eyes cut across the Glade, lingering on different people. Alby gestures towards the scraggly woods of the Deadheads and says something, Y/N nods and counters his point. But Newt doesn’t know any of this, because he is decidedly not looking at them. Not at all.

There’s a laugh from behind him, and Newt belatedly turns to see Minho striding up next to him. “If you spend any more time focusing at Y/N instead of your food, Frypan’s going to burst into tears.” Newt glares at his friend. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Minho just grins. “I’m sure you don’t. Are you obsessed with Alby instead? Is that why you keep looking over at them?” Newt shoves Minho, but the dark-haired boy just laughs harder.

Maybe Newt’s not exactly being subtle. Yet even after Minho walks away, still chuckling quietly to himself, Newt’s gaze flickers back to Y/N and Alby. Their heads are bowed in conversation as they talk over every aspect of life in the Glade. Alby’s first in command and Y/N is second, and between the two of them, they’ve managed to make life here in the Maze make sense. At least, as well as you can when you’re a group of teenagers living in a giant bugging labyrinth.

Alby was the first one to show up in the Glade. Newt can’t even begin to imagine what it must have been like to arrive in the Box, utterly alone except for the shrieks of the Grievers at night. Y/N came up next, and the two of them had to figure out how to survive with no one else around. They don’t trust anyone as well as they trust each other, although that’s no surprise. They had each other’s backs when nothing made sense, and their friendship has only grown as more and more people arrived at the Glade.

Some days, Newt wonders if he could have been able to do the same- show up in the Glade with only one other person and not lose his bloody mind. No matter how hard it was, how many times they came close to giving in, Y/N and Alby still managed to set up the Glade and all of its rules, which have lasted the months until now. Newt came up a couple months after them, and he’s been able to watch as Y/N and Alby shape the very lifestyle of the Glade.

Somehow, it doesn’t surprise Newt that Y/N and Alby were the first ones sent up through the Box. He doubts anyone else could have managed the daunting task of running the Glade and keeping everyone in line. Newt can still see them now, where they always meet at the end of the day to run through everything that happened and make mental checklists of what needs to be accomplished tomorrow. Newt is lucky he’s a runner- all he has to do is keep moving. Y/N and Alby have to consider the wellbeing of every single one of these poor shanks, and Newt just wears holes in his trainers alongside Minho.

Newt stands up, stretching. He hands his empty plate to Frypan, heading back towards the Map Room to make sure the day’s run has been properly catalogued. Just before he disappears into the only half-completed wooden hut, Newt glances over his shoulder one last time. A slight smile appears on his face when he sees Y/N. Of all the Gladers, she might just be his favorite.

You’re considering a tomato plant in front of you when you first see them. Today, you’ve been directed to work with the track-hoes: some slinthead was fool enough to mess with the builders and now he’s spending the day under the watchful gaze of the Med-jacks. There are barely enough track-hoes as it is, so you’ll be filling in the spot until the guy heals sufficiently to garden once more. That’s the role of a second-in-command, you suppose, doing whatever needs to be done.

The tomato plant in question is finally ripe. You’ve been eyeing it for a couple of days now, and you think it looks good. You reach for a makeshift basket, propping it up on your hip while you pluck the crimson red vegetables (or is it fruits?) from the stem. A sudden movement beyond the rows of plants distracts you, and you look up to see the figures of two boys running through the Glade, having just left the towering walls of the Maze behind them. Newt and Minho, done with their day’s work as Runners.

They spot you and smile, and you raise a hand in greeting. You do your best to look casual, effortlessly cool, but you’re not sure that you’ve succeeded. Your eyes linger on Newt for maybe a second longer than they should, and you watch as the boys head towards the Map Room while their path is still locked in their memory. You thought no one else was around to witness the blush creeping onto your cheeks, but if there’s one thing you should have learned throughout all of your months in the Glade, it’s that nothing will ever go your way. Ever.

Alby leans a hand against the tomato plant in front of you, startling you from your thoughts. You do your best to quell your flinch of surprise, but it’s no good. He’s already grinning with barely suppressed laughter. “I thought you were supposed to be staring at the tomatoes, not the Runners.” You hit him with your gardening glove, but it does nothing to staunch the gleam of triumph in his eyes. “Am I not allowed to greet my friends? Should I turn my back and ignore them instead?”

Alby crosses his arms on his chest. “I didn’t realize greeting your friends involved watching the blond one from the second he entered the Glade.” You look around frantically, making sure Zart and the others can’t hear you, before reaching to swat Alby once more, although this time he’s expecting it and dodges out of the way. He frowns at you. “Hey, rule number two. Never hurt another Glader. I thought you were the one who came up with that.”

You shoot him a look. “I wrote that rule before you started making fun of me. If you’re not careful I’ll revoke it.” Alby shakes his head. “Afraid not. I outrank you.” You mutter something under your breath. “Not if I get rid of you first. I’d have to replace you.” Alby just grins. “If you kill me, you’ll have to explain a homicide to Newt. How would he like you then?” You can only hope that Newt is still in the Map Room, because otherwise the blond boy would see you chasing a laughing Alby out of the gardens with an outraged shout.

It’s a new month, a new day. Newt hears the loud alarm of the Box before he sees it show up, and he and a few others make their way to the center of the Glade to see what new Greenie has been brought before them. He and Minho had managed to get through their section early, so they get to witness the arrival of the latest Greenbean along with the others. About ten minutes later, there’s a shuddering jolt as the Box locks into position.

Newt helps the others fling the doors to the Box open, and just like clockwork, a boy lies on the ground, flung back by the force of the Box coming to a stop. He squints up at the Gladers lining the edge of the Box, blinded by the sunlight. Gally jumps into the Box, offering a hand and the usual declaration- “Day one, Greenie. Rise and shine.”

The Greenie looks as confused as anyone else. He’s tall, with dirty blond hair and a faded off-white t-shirt. The guy’s apparently got the chops to be a runner, as he takes off in a sprint the second his feet touch the ground of the Glade. He doesn’t go far, though, too stunned by the looming walls of the Maze to leave the grassy clearing. Later, Newt hears him shout out his name in a stunned gasp- Ben, Newt thinks he said.

Some Glader arrives to take the Greenie on a tour, so Newt turns his attention back to the Box and the crates awaiting attention within. Newt sees Minho head over to Alby, and the Runner says a few words in a low whisper. Identical, crafty grins spread over both of the boys’ faces, and a sudden feeling of dread rolls over in Newt’s stomach as the boys glance over at him. Alby steps forward. “Okay, you know the drill. Time to check the contents of the Box. This time, the lucky shanks will be, uh, Y/N and Newt.”

Newt stares at Minho in barely suppressed outrage, while his friend does his best to contain a laugh. Newt can practically read the boy’s mind- You won’t talk to her yourself, I’ll do it for you. After a second’s hesitation, Newt strides over, jumping down into the Box and landing with a mild impact on the metal floor. Y/N leaps down a few moments after him, and Newt can hear the sound of the other Gladers returning to their usual jobs above them. Within seconds, it’s just Newt and Y/N in the Box. What is he supposed to do now?

The only thing he can do is what Alby asked him to do- unload the crates of supplies. Y/N pulls a worn pad of paper from her pocket, flipping to a fresh sheet and beginning to jot down the contents. Newt helps to pry open some boxes, checking what’s inside and reporting back. After the fifth box or so, Y/N groans, leaning against the cool metal walls of the Box as a reprieve from the boredom of the tasks. “Shuck, I hate Greenie Day.”

Newt smiles in spite of himself. “Because of the Box or because of the greenie?” Y/N glances over at him. “Both. Too many boxes, and now some new guy’s going to follow me around all day asking questions.” Newt leans over a nearby crate, trying and failing to drum up the energy to continue cataloging the supplies. “Hey, you made Alby go take the tour with the Greenie. That puts the majority of the questions on him.”

Y/N smirks at that. “It’s what he deserves for making me do manual labor.” Newt frowns. “You work with the track-hoes all the time.” Y/N flashes him a grin that makes Newt’s heart freeze in his chest. “That’s different.” Newt returns her grin. “Is it, or are you just complaining?” Y/N sticks her tongue out at him, but she stands up and continues on to the next crate. “I’m ignoring that.” When she hands him another box, their hands touch briefly, and Newt’s distracted from all thoughts of greenies and track-hoes or anything in this bloody Maze. Maybe Minho isn’t so bad after all for sending him down here.

You’re going to kill Alby. There’s no question about it. You’re going to kill him, and there’s nothing he can do to stop you. He knew exactly what he was doing when he sent you down here, and that triumphant smirk on his face when he announced you’d be working with Newt was just the icing on the cake. Of course he’d send you down to the enclosed box with the boy you’ve been crushing on since he arrived here- Alby’s out for blood. Why would he pass up such a golden, perfect, absolutely ruthless opportunity?

It’s all you can do to focus on the crates. You’re gripping the pad of paper like it’s a lifesaver, and honestly, it just might be. Every moment that you spend meticulously copying down the supplies is a moment that you don’t spend looking over at Newt, and the way his golden hair flops down just slightly over his eyes, or the way his arms move when he’s lifting the boxes, or that slight curve of a smile when he looks over at you-

Yes, there’s no question about it- you’re absolutely smitten. If you weren’t sure before, you’re positive now. You do your best to focus on the work at hand instead of the unfairly attractive boy next to you, but it only does so much. That being said, there are enough crates to last far longer than you’d want. The light of late afternoon is shifting into dusk, and by the time Newt is tossing the final crate out onto the grass of the Glade, it’s dark enough that the walls of the Box seem to melt away into the dimly lit air.

Newt stretches his arms. “Well, I’m glad that’s over.” You can’t help a joke. “I can’t wait for next month.” He frowns. “You’re the second in command, aren’t you? Just write us out of this job in particular.” You roll your eyes. “Even second in commands have to follow the rules, even if I’d rather break them.” Newt grins, leaning casually against the wall. “I’ve seen the amount of stuff you and Alby have to handle. I think it would be alright if you skipped out on Box duty every now and then.”

You consider him for a second. “I like the way you think. Honestly, I think you would make a good second in command. If you ever get tired of being a Runner, the position is always open.” Newt shakes his head. “What about you? I can’t take your job away.” You shrug. “I’d step aside for you. You’re the only one in this entire Glade that I think could handle it.”

Newt straightens up, stepping away from the wall to move closer to you. “You mean it?” You stare at him, at the few inches separating him from you. “Yes. I trust you.” Newt nods slowly, his eyes never leaving yours. Then, as if on an impulse, he leans forward and kisses you. You barely have a moment to realize it’s happening before he breaks away, something like regret beginning to color his eyes. “I didn’t mean to- I’m sorry-”

You cut off his whispers by kissing him again. This time, he doesn’t lean away, not for a while. The two of you stay there, arms wrapped around each other as the darkness falls fully against you, until the lights of the bonfire begin to blaze through the night. Newt smiles down at you, eyes shining with the starlight. “We should probably go before Minho and Alby come to see why we’re taking so long.” You laugh at that. “I’d hate to give them the satisfaction of being right.” Newt shares your laugh, then bends down to kiss you one last time before jumping out of the Box. You watch him as he stands there, silhouette barely visible against the dark, and when he extends a hand down to help you up, you take it without a second’s hesitation.

#newt #newt imagines #newt x reader #newt oneshot #maze runner #maze runner imagines #maze runner x reader #maze runner oneshot #maze runner newt #maze runner newt imagines #death cure #scorch trials #tmr #tmr imagines #tmr x reader #tmr oneshot #tmr newt #tmr newt imagines #tmr newt x reader

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darling-i-read-it · 3 years

Text

Together

Ethan Winters x reader

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: violence, cuss words, spoilers for re7,

Author’s Note: I changed up the ending of the request a tad I hope you don’t mind. I hope you enjoy! I love writing for Ethan so this was a pleasure.

Requested: by @drinksomecoco, So I’ve just had these two fic ideas floating around that I wasn’t able to commit to. For Resi7, the idea is that the reader is someone Lucas had kidnapped and trapped in his weird saw games. They managed to escape while Lucas was distracted with family things and had found their way into the main house right before Ethan escaped his first family dinner, so they end up with him through the whole sordid affair. After everything is over, Ethan now has to choose between his wife, who he now knows lied to him their whole relationship, or the reader, who admitted at some point that they didn’t have much of a home to go to. Obviously wouldn’t expect anyone to rewrite the whole game’s plot, maybe more reflection while they recover and Ethan has to make his choice

Summary: the request

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director/creator

(not my gif)

When you woke up your head was throbbing. You felt like you hadn’t known a moment's peace in days. You should have known, you kept telling yourself. You should have known that going this far out into the wilderness would only bring bad things.

A whole family of bad things.

Lucas was the one who found you out wandering by yourself. Honestly, you wished it was anyone else. He was a sadist and he kept putting you in these sick games. You had beaten him so far but you weren’t sure how much longer you could take.

You sat up in the cold empty stone room and rubbed your head. You looked around. There was a single bulb light above your head, illuminating the room. You walked up to the door and grabbed onto the door handle, not expecting it to work.

To your surprise, the handle turned, opening the door up. You stood there for a moment in awe. You had tried that every time you woke up but it had never worked. You had to be careful. There was a possibility it was all part of Lucas’s games. You took a step forward and looked around warily.

Nothing and no one in sight. He must have just made a fatal mistake. Your breath picked up as you started to walk around his little hellscape. It was a winding place, filled with twists, turns and trip wires. You wanted to run but had to make sure you kept your pace. You couldn’t move too fast with the traps littered around.

You took a deep breath as you opened another door and stumbled outside. You wanted to cry from relief. Air. Outside air. You looked around eagerly, making sure you didn’t see anyone else. It was dark outside. There was a trailer and then a large house to your right. You weren’t sure if you would be able to get away if you didn’t go through the house. Everything else looked pretty fenced in.

You went into the trailer and was pleased to find a gun and some ammo in there. You loaded the gun, thankful for the shooting classes you had taken years ago. You put the gun safely in your belt loop and carefully approached the house. You opened up the door a bit and glanced inside the large room.

You took a deep breath as you stepped inside. It was a large room with two staircases on either side of the room. You took in your surroundings. Just had to find a way to the other side of this house. That was all you had to do. The task didn’t seem so daunting when you put it that way.

Suddenly the door on the same floor you were on opened carefully. You took out your gun and held it up as a man opened the door and shut it carefully behind him. He had nicely cut dirty brown hair and he was wearing a green jacket that was covered in black and red liquids.

He turned around and noticed you which caused him to raise his own gun.

“Who are you?” he asked, voice shaking.

“Who are you?” He walked up to you, gun not wavering.

“Answer my question.”

“I...are you part of the family?”

“No. Are you?” You shook your head. You both kept your weapons up though, noticeably untrustworthy.

“I’m Y/N. I was trying to find a nice place out here in the wilderness to take some pictures but Lucas found me and put me in his little hell of games,” you told him. “Who are you? How did you get here?” He thought about whether he was going to answer you and took a deep breath before lowering his gun. You lowered yours as well.

“My wife went missing three years ago. She sent me a message...I found her here. But she’s crazy she tried to kill me and then this fucking family tied me up to a chair and…” He showed you his hand which seemed to be stapled on. You scoffed.

“I can take a look at that if you want. I know a little bit about medical stuff,” you said warily. He nodded a bit.

“I have to get my wife.”

“I have to get out of here.”

“Me too. Eventually.” You nodded a bit. You put your gun in your waistband again and Ethan walked closer to you. He still didn’t entirely trust you but he liked you enough. “Your wifes a lucky girl,” you told him. He smiled a bit. There was some unspoken truth there. Ethan could help you and you could help him.

“You mind telling her that? She’s still trying to kill me.”

=====

You and Ethan walked over to the trailer to get some sort of peace. You couldn’t stay there long but it seemed like it was a place where they didn’t look often. Plus, there was only one door to monitor. He sat on the bed as you knelt in front of him. You were carefully examining his hand.

“The staples were a choice,” you muttered. He chuckled dryly.

“At least it’s back on,” he told you. You nodded and sat down on your knees.

“It looks like you’re able to use it well enough. Once we get out of here we’re gonna have to make sure you get it looked at further. Here’s some more meds if the hand starts hurting.”

“You’re a Godsend.” You gave him a kind smile and stood back up.

“Alright, now where’s your wife?”

“I found a video of her going out to the old house. I have to assume she’s somewhere out there but you know, it’s a working theory.” You nodded. “I talked to Zoe. She said there was a cure here, for Mia.”

“And I assume you’re going to find it?” “If I can.” You took a deep breath and nodded.

“Alright. We’ll probably find it when we go and deal with Marguerite.” He nodded back at you.

“That was what I was hoping for.”

“You dealt with the old man?” He nodded.

“Barely.” You cocked your gun.

“Perfect. Then let’s go give mom a taste of what we got.”

====

“This house is fucking disgusting,” you whispered. Ethan nodded as he crouched down beside a nest of some sort.

“I second that.” He stood up and you quickly moved with him. You were quiet, trying to gauge where on Earth Marguerite was. You kept yourself together as you ran into large bugs and places that made you need to backtrack and find other things.

As you walked through the house you eventually made it up to a small window.

“Ethan?” You turned around, met face to face with some woman you hadn’t seen before.

“Mia!” Ethan ran over and put his hands against the barrier between the two of them. You found yourself hiding a bit of jealousy but you had bigger problems.

“Hey Ethan!” Lucas yelled, grabbing Mia around the neck. Ethan started to shake the barrier. Lucas met your eyes as he pulled her away. “I’ll get you bitch. Just you wait!” You turned to Ethan as Lucas and Mia disappeared. He gave you a nervous look which you returned.

Eventually the two of you made it out to some sort of greenhouse where Marguerite was waiting. She transformed herself into a disgusting, drooping and dangerous form.

Ethan handed you one of his two shotguns which you took with care. You raised it up to where her most vulnerable place was and shot.

Ethen came at her from your side. When your gun got knocked down Ethan put himself between you and your foe. He put his hand on your hip, turning you so you were effectively behind him as he shot his handgun. Together you were able to take her down, after much effort. As she fell and died you suddenly realized how exhausted and in pain you were.

“Are you okay?” Ethan asked, more worried then he thought he was. You nodded a bit and used his shoulder to steady yourself.

“Just a little woozy. We gotta move on.” He nodded and grabbed your other arm, holstering his gun.

“You’re gonna pass out.” You shook your head.

“I am not.” He gave you a look. “You know Ethan Winters, you’re kind of a badass. I would be scared if you were pointing a gun at me.”

“I already did.”

“And I was scared,” you joked weakly. He scoffed and put your arm over his shoulder.

“Let’s get to the trailer and give you a minute before we hit Lucas with all that we got,” he muttered. You nodded.

“That motherfucker doesn’t know what's coming,” you whispered.

“Yeah, a guy with one hand and a girl who’s about to pass out. He’s gonna tremble in fear.”

“Hey now, don’t you underestimate us. We’ve made it this far. Just gotta get him, get your wife and get the fuck out of here.” He didn’t get the same pleasant feeling when he thought of Mia. He decided not to bring it up or dwell on it.

“Alright. I believe you.” ===

Ethan sat on the bed beside you. You were resting for a moment. You promised him only five minutes and he watched the door. He didn’t mind much. You fell into sleep easily, clearly exhausted. He grabbed your hand and held it for comfort.

Your face was so peaceful when you were asleep.

“Ethan,” you whispered, eyes still shut.

“Yeah?” he asked.

“We have to keep moving,” you told him as you squeezed his hand groggily.

“If you pass out Lucas will kill you.”

“Yeah? You would let that happen?” He scoffed. Ethan realized suddenly, he wouldn’t let that happen. You couldn’t get hurt. He chastised his own thoughts, looking down at his ring finger but he couldn’t see it. You were holding his hand and blocking the view.

“Not if I can help it.”

=====

Lucas paid special attention to you. He wanted to make sure you suffered for getting out and killing his parents. You and Ethan were forced to play his little game.

You and Ethan stood together in a locked couple of rooms. He grabbed your arm before you could walk too far into the room.

“Y/N-”

“This is just like the ones he kept me in. I saw the footage of someone else doing this, I know how to do it,” you whispered to him. He watched your eyes. He was sweating and exhausted. He was relieved to hear that you knew what you were doing.

“Go on then.”

You were able to work through that puzzle which did piss Lucas off but you were already gone before he could complain anymore. Now you had the serum and you had both made it out alive.

You found Mia after an aggressive amount of fighting with the Bakers. The more you saw of this family the less you were surprised by the sight. She was stumbling and scared but at the sight of Ethan her face lit up .

“Ethan?! Ethan!” she called, throwing her arms around her. He held her wordlessly for a moment as he dragged her quickly to the boat you and Ethan had found.

“We have a serum, to cure you,” you told her. She gave you a scared look.

“Who are you?”

“She’s a friend,” Ethan said. You held each other's gaze for a moment and gave her a kind smile. “I didn’t see Zoe. Did you find her?” he asked Mia. She shook her head.

“I haven’t seen Zoe in ages. We need to get out of here. We can’t dwell,” she told you both.

“She helped me get this serum.”

“Yeah and that’s much appreciated. But we have to leave,” she said. “We can come back later.” You eyed Ethan. He looked over at you for permission and you shrugged.

“She helped us get this. It seems stupid to leave her.”

Mia was trembling, worried about the escape. You all were. It was right then that Zoe emerged from the darkness.

“Zoe!” Ethan called. She ran over.

“You got the serum?” You gave her a curt look and then had to turn away.

“We..we only have one,” Ethan said. He was holding the only one there. You had to use the other one fighting Jack. You looked away from Mia as she noticed that he was going to have to make a choice.

“Well then you’ll have to choose one of us to give it to,” Zoe said evenly. Mia looked over at him and Ethan just looked at you. You shrugged from behind Mia.

“It’s up to you Ethan.” You could practically see his gears turning in his head. On one hand, Mia was his wife. He came here for her. But on the other hand...Zoe could help them get out. They could try and replicate the serum if they were able to leave sooner.

He grabbed Zoe’s arm and stuck the needle in. Mia gasped, shocked.

“I’m sorry. I truly am. Zoe will be able to guide us to safety,” he told her. You stepped into the boat, helping Zoe inside beside you.

“I’m staying here,” Mia said, disgusted.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Ethan countered. “My place is here. With her,” she told him. You watched as Ethan got into the boat in front of you.

“We’ll come back for you,” he promised. Mia’s face was shrouded by the dark shadows as the boat went down the river.

=====

Eventually you came up to a much larger boat. You ended up on the boat, where Eveline was. You had known about Eveline, only through Lucas’s complaints about her. You didn’t realize she was a child or that she was like the way she was. When Eveline realized that Mia might not want to be her mother, she wondered if you would be a candidate.

She knocked you and Ethan out.

You woke up with a start. Your head hasn't stopped hurting since the last time you woke up. Now you had no idea where you were. You stood up shakily. Eveline hadn’t taken your weapons.

“Ethan?! Zoe?!” you called out but there was no response. You looked around at the dark and grimy metal of the boat. You pulled out your gun. “Ethan?!” you called again, hoping that he would answer. Nothing.

You had to start walking around to find them. Your feet started to get wet from the damp atmosphere but you could barely notice. You ran into different mold monsters but were able to keep them down enough for you to pass.

You felt like you had walked for almost an hour before you saw Ethan. He ran into you, breath heaving, gun out.

“Fuck, I almost shot you!” he yelled. “What’s going on? Where’s Zoe?”

“She’s dead! Mia!” You furrowed your eyebrows and then saw that Mia was chasing him down with a weapon. Your eyes went wide. The shots you figured at her merely slowed her down.

“Run!” you told him and both of you started to book it away.

“We need to find Eveline!” he told you as you ran.

“Where is she?”

“I don’t know! But we need to find her!” You nodded, taking a sharp turn.

“Lead the way!”

====

You had to watch Ethan kill his wife. You watched him as his love for her was broken down to pieces as he shot her. You helped obviously. But he fired the last shot, as she asked him why he had chosen Zoe over her. Even you felt your heart clench up a bit and you didn’t love her like Ethan had.

“Mia,” he whispered as she crystallized and then dissipated. “Why?” You walked up to him and put a hand on his back. He turned to you and hugged you tightly, burying his face in your neck. You held him there for a moment and then pulled away. You put your hand on his cheek gingerly.

“We have to keep going. We have to find her.” Ethan nodded and backed away to reload his gun. His face glossed over with grief and rage.

“Let’s go.”

=====

The last fight with Eveline was dirty. You had to get the shot into her and it happened but not after she erupted into screams. She looked like she was just a child. How could just a child do all of the chaos she did?

As your back landed harshly on the ground after being shot out of the house, you felt relief. Relief and pain. You could see the sun rising. For a moment you just laid in the grass as your ears rang.

Then Ethan turned to grab your hand. You turned your head to look at him. His face was dirty and tired. You would probably both sleep for a week after this ordeal. Your hearing came back and you could hear him try and talk to you over the sound of helicopter propellers.

“What?!” you called, probably far more loudly than you intended.

“Are you okay!?” he screamed. You nodded quickly.

“Are you?!” He nodded back.

“Ethan Winters and Y/N Y/L/N?!” You both looked up to see a large man standing over you. You sat up and he held out his hand for both of you to take.

“Yes?!” Ethan called.

“I’m Redfield. I’m glad we found you.”

Chris and his team helped the two of you into a chopper. You sat next to each other as it lifted off. You saw Ethan pull out his phone, miraculously uncracked. A video of Mia was playing on it.

“She lied to me the entire time we were married,” he told you quietly.

“I’m sorry. You don’t deserve that.” He gave the phone one last look and took a deep breath before tossing it out of the helicopter.

“You could have just deleted the video,” you told him, laughing dryly. He scoffed and nudged you.

“Now is not the time,” he said but his voice was miraculously light hearted.

“You’re right. I am sorry though. Once we have a two day long nap we’ll talk more about it.” “Where are you going? After we get back.” You shrugged.

“I don’t have much of a place to get back to honestly. I guess we’ll just see where the wind takes me.”

“Isn’t that how you ended up here?” You nodded sheepishly. He looked down at the house for a long moment before looking back at you. “Stay with me. We can help each other get out of this rut. You can monitor my stapled on hand.” You smiled, brushing a piece of your hair behind your ear.

“You sure?”

“I have room for one more now. I’d like it to be you.” You grabbed his hand tightly. He squeezed your knuckles, looking you in the eye.

“Alright,” you breathed. He nodded.

The two of you fell asleep in the helicopter not long after that, leaning on each other for support. You would heal, over time. Together.

Re8 Part 2

#ethan winters x reader #ethan winters imagines #resident evil imagines

177 notes · View notes

celestial-fucking-weeb · 4 years

Text

Anonymity be Damned

Hi, everyone! This is my first ever fic, and it’s a part of the Citrus Server collab! I’m so excited about it, and I know it’s super self indulgent, but I worked really hard on it and I hope you like it. Please give me feedback and tell me what you like and what I can improve on; also, please be nice to me, I’m a baby.

MASTER LIST IS HERE Go check out everyone’s hard work!

Warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, AGED UP (mid twenties), fluff, brief angst, insecurities, smut, body worship, chubby kink, marking (hickies), Papi kink

Pairing: Sero Hanta x chubby!female reader

Taglist: @reinawritesbnha

Prompt: "Masquerade balls were something you’d only ever heard about in movies. You couldn’t deny the prospect was intriguing; donning your most elegant attire, confidence boosted by your anonymity and the intoxication brought on by such a magical atmosphere. You and your fellow partygoers were almost doomed to desire, inhibitions washed away long before the wine and spirits started to flow.

The mystery, majesty, and potential for mischief were far too enticing to resist.

So, when you received an invitation to Midnight’s Masquerade, you didn’t think twice about accepting…"

—————————

Of course, not thinking twice about accepting came back to bite you as soon as the realization set in that you would, in fact, have to go. Suddenly hyper-aware of your need to buy a dress, and knowing how little you enjoy shopping, you call your best girls for the job. A quick text to the groupchat had Mina and Yaomomo screaming with excitement that you were actually asking to go shopping. Jirou and Ochako sharing your apprehension, and Hagakure and Froppy bowing out due to their schedules, but wishing you luck with sweet emojis.

Yaomomo chose the dress shop, under the enthusiastic offer that she’d pay to ensure everyone would receive something from her favorite designers. You knew this was a place only Yaomomo could frequent- beautiful gowns lined every wall, display mannequins donning the most gorgeous dresses, made of the best fabrics with jewels perfectly beaded in, none of which had price tags so as to not “ruin the material” as she had told all of you. Whisking you all into dressing rooms bigger than your entire apartment, the staff practically fawned over each of you, offering assistance, refreshments, recommendations, and- oh fuck- measurements. Nerves shot through your entire body and made you nauseous, ready to make a stupid excuse to leave before your insecurities were announced to your girlfriends. You’ve always been...bigger.

The word tasted bitter on your tongue. The consultant made barely a sound as she pulled out her tape, but you heard it. That little “hm” noise, indicating judgement, knowing that most of their stock isn’t going to fit you properly, what with your plump thighs, soft tummy, squishy arms, the rolls that seemed to stay no matter how many workouts you do..

“We don’t carry plus size gowns, but I’m sure I can find something for you.”

All is confirmed when she says those stupid fucking words with that Joker-esqe smile and that hint of disgust in her tone. ‘I shouldn’t be here, I never should’ve accepted that invitation, why did I even think this was a good idea, the whole thing is for beautiful skinny girls like your friends, this is all a mistake,’ you think to yourself, insecurities and anxiety flooding your brain. Mina’s voice snaps you out of your spiral.

“Excuse me, I don’t believe we asked for your personal opinion on her body. In fact, I believe we only asked for you to do your job, but if you can’t complete such a daunting task, I’m sure there are 20 other people who’d love to take your place.” she grinned, in a tone too perky for her threatening choice of words.

“Also, as I happen to frequent this shop, I know your entire inventory. As such, I know that you do, in fact, carry gowns for each of our sizes. If you can find one to fit my chest, I know you have a variety of gowns to fit my beautiful friend, y/n. I suggest you begin pulling them, as I’m sure you’ve gotten the measurements you need. Now.” This time it’s Yaomomo, handling the situation with dignitary-level finality, before gracefully walking to you with a comforting smile. Ochako wipes a tear you weren’t aware had fallen, attempting to comfort you with false empathy, saying how you two are “practically the same size”, but you know you’re not. It’s comforting nonetheless, having the support of your friend group. Jirou cracks self deprecating jokes to lighten the mood, complaining, “If I have to wear a frilly gown to this bullshit, so do you, y/n. You’re not getting out of this that easy,” and you absolutely know she means it.

With your spirit slightly renewed and the consultants carrying in a multitude of dresses, you all end up having a blast laughing about how the pink ballgown does not fit Jirou’s aesthetic and the skintight green satin number Ochako tried on would quite literally have Deku passed out on the floor. You giggled with Yaomomo about how certain dresses looked risqué and nearly pornographic on your respective figures. Mina whined about how each dress didn’t have enough glitter, her complaints falling on deaf ears. Over the course of two and a half hours, each of the girls had secured a dress. Mina, in a teal mermaid-style dress with enough sparkle woven into the tulle to blind. Jirou, in a simple deep purple velvet gown that gracefully fell off her shoulders. Ochako, deciding, after much peer pressure, to opt for the green satin to make Deku drool. Yaomomo, in a red gown with beautiful beading, and a deep V neckline. You, on the other hand, were struggling to find something that doesn’t have you hyperfixating on one aspect of your body or another, limiting your breathing and movement so as to not further sink into the mean thoughts swirling around inside your head. The girls have gone into full support staff-mode, bringing you dresses of every cut known to man, offering more champagne to dull the anxieties, Yaomomo even offering to make you a custom dress with her quirk. Jirou sheepishly comes into the room, head down, hoping no one brings attention to the fact that she just sifted through dresses for a good 15 minutes and didn’t hate it, before nudging your soft side. You turn to her, defeated, and ready to give up, when you realize what she’s holding. She’s picked a dress for you, even though she hates shopping anywhere that isn’t blaring music through the speakers and dimly lit. You smile sweetly at her shy offering, reaching out to take it before she pulls back.

“No, I have an idea… I know it’s easy to look at your insecurities before the dress is all the way on, and I think you should let us help you into it with your eyes closed… Then, when you turn around to the mirror, you can see all the beautiful parts, like we do!” She looks down at the floor as she mutters the words, as though she’s embarrassed to be so soft and sweet.

“THAT’S A GREAT IDEA, JIROU! OH MY GOD, Y/N, YOU HAVE TO LET US DRESS YOU, IT’LL BE JUST LIKE CINDERELLA WITH THE BIRDS AND THE MICE, COME ONNN…” Mina bounces up and down, grabbing your hands and pleading, knowing you never say no when she gives you such excited eyes.

“Uh… fine… Yeah, I guess it couldn’t hurt. It’s not like I have anything to lose.” You shyly whisper, looking away.

If it were anyone else, you’d never want them to see you getting dressed, soft tummy and extra squish uncovered, leaving you vulnerable to their judgement. But these are your best friends, you’d known them for years. They’d held your hair on your 21st birthday, and cuddled into bed with you when you were crying over unrequited love. They’ve had your back, they’d never make fun of you, and Jirou chose this dress all special for you, you couldn’t say no. With that, you turned around and closed your eyes, arms out and waiting for them to help you into whatever Jirou had deemed right for you.

“Okay, y/n, almost done, just have to zip this last part up and… DONE!” Mina and Yaomomo stepped back from their positions holding the sides and pulling the zipper, respectively. Finally admiring the you in the dress, there was a moment of absolute silence. You started shifting uncomfortably, wondering just how horrible you looked if they didn’t even have words to describe it. Ochako was the first to break the quiet and a teary-sounding “You’re so beautiful, y/n.”, followed by Mina’s signature squeals of excitement. Yaomomo clasped her hands together and began ranting about “how gorgeous you looked” and “how perfect the dress was” and “how she didn’t even know they had this one yet”. Jirou, sensing your anxious shifting, finally told you to open your eyes and turn around with a hand on your shoulder, the satisfied smirk on her face audible in her now assured voice.

“Oh… wow…” was all you could manage to say, eyes wide as you saw yourself in the full length mirror. This was, in all honesty, the first time you felt beautiful in years. The dress did nothing to hide your body- no- it somehow managed to accentuate every single curve in the most beautiful way possible. The gown was black, made from silk and taffeta, with some built in structure, and oh so soft. Simultaneously comfortable, secure, and elegant, the strapless gown mimicked a one shoulder, right side jutting up in an asymmetrical style and the left dipping just low enough to show your cleavage before cascading down your curves, hugging each roll of your body gently, showing off your figure and flowing down to the floor with a slit up your thigh, only visible when you walked and showing the ample flesh of your hip and thigh. God, it was perfect. You felt strong and classy and sexy and beautiful. Turning to Jirou, you pull her into your chest and hug her, thanking her a thousand times for finding it.

“Whoa, hey, okay… I’m glad you like it, you look absolutely beautiful. But- um- hey, can you let go? I’m suffocating in titties here.” Jirou laughed, genuinely struggling to breathe in your embrace.

“Oh shit, sorry, Jirou! I’m just so happy, I love it so much! I kinda forgot you can’t breathe when I do that…” You chuckle nervously, releasing her from your embrace.

“Yay! Okay, now that everyone has a dress, let’s go purchase them and get some food. I’m starving!” Yaomomo pitches the idea, and everyone agrees, excited to hurry out of the shop for a meal.

_____________________________________________________________

The day had finally come, and your nerves felt fried. The other girls all had dates; Momo and Jirou deciding to go together, Ochako with Deku, even Mina was going with Kaminari. But here you were, riding in the car service alone, makeup absolutely flawless, complete with falsies and red lipstick that was the perfect shade to stand out against your skin. Such a shame no one was going to be benefiting from your efforts tonight, although the thought that your longtime crush, Sero Hanta, would be in attendance was enough to urge you to adjust your carefully placed mask, ensuring your anonymity and polishing your confidence. Sero had been in your friend group since high school, and was the first person you truly warmed up to upon your acceptance into the group. You quickly became the “shy little sister” to the loud ones in the group: Bakugou, Kaminari, Kirishima, and Mina. Jirou and Sero were more your speed; quieter, more laid back and chill, with great senses of humor that not everyone was privy to. With Jirou as your designated best friend, Sero was proclaimed the unrequited love interest. You friendzoned yourself almost immediately, assuming Sero wouldn’t go for a girl like you, not when he was tall, dark, handsome, and muscular. A budding pro hero wouldn’t want you, not with your shy insecurities and soft body…

Little did you know, Sero had been pining after you since the beginning, flirting with you subtly in hopes that you’d express your interest. Eyes wandering down your curves during movie nights, taking in your too-small shorts and how your oversized shirt would raise just enough to see your little tummy pouch, wishing his face was buried between your plump thighs, praying he would be able to leave hickeys on every delicious roll, pleading he could see those cute chubby cheeks covered with tears while your plush lips wrapped around his cock… No- he couldn’t think of you like that. After all, you never returned his flirting, and there’s no way you’d like him when you could crush on manlier guys like Kirishima and Bakugou. ‘He was just a “dollar store Spiderman”, as Bakugou liked to call him, just a guy… Nothing special…’ he thought to himself as he adjusted his own mask in the bathroom mirror at the gala. His friends had all confirmed that you were coming, and that you were coming alone (said by Kaminari while wiggling his eyebrows). Every other person in the group had a date, including Bakugou and Kirishima, who had to practically drag the former to the event in the first place. He was the only one “stagging it”, aside from you, who would no doubt attract attention and end up going home with some flashy hero higher ranked than he was. He sighed, adjusting his tux jacket and cufflinks, and exited into the main ballroom to get a drink.

You walked into the venue, checked in, and stood frozen outside the ballroom entrance. You adjusted your mask, steeled your nerves, and squared your shoulders, reminding yourself how absolutely gorgeous you looked and donning your best “bad bitch” aura. You strut into the place like you own it, suddenly very aware of how many people there are, scanning for familiar faces as you sway your luscious hips to maintain your balance in your heels.

“Holy fuck... “ Sero utters, jaw slack and eyes locked on you. You’re so perfect, breasts bouncing with every step, thighs and tummy jiggling, soft smile gracing your face. He’s staring, and Kaminari has to elbow him to wipe the drool from the side of his mouth before you get there. You’re equally as enchanted, seeing Sero in his black fitted tuxedo, crushed velvet lapels, tapered pants making his quads look positively biteable, crisp white shirt tailored over his pecs, black bowtie (slightly crooked, very fitting of his personality) and mask obscuring his face, leaving him as nothing more than a handsome stranger. A yellow pocket square catches your attention, reminding you of your favorite hero in his costume. You smirk to yourself, knowing you chose yellow gold heels specifically because they reminded you of him.

“See something you like, Sero-buddy? You’re staring so hard, you’d think she was God.” Kaminari punches Sero in the ribs, trying to break the spell. “Maybe you should talk to her, finally get over your crush on y/n by getting under someone else.” he winks, completely unaware that he’s talking about you in both respects.

“Uh… I don’t know, man. I think I’ll give it a minute, maybe grab another drink and enjoy the party for a while. I’m not trying to start hitting on some random chick just yet, though hot she may be.” Sero laughs, rubbing the back of his neck like he always does when he’s nervous. He diverts his eyes down to his drink, downs the rest of the liquid, then focuses back on you. You wait at the bar for your drink of choice, aware of that beautiful stranger still staring and leaning against the counter just enough to push your ass out. You hear him nearly choke on his drink, and move around the party satisfied with yourself.

A few drinks later, you find yourself on the dance floor, watching from the edge and lightly swaying to the music. A masked man with shaggy black hair, who you can only assume to be pro hero Grand, given his mask barely covered a fourth of his face probably only worn to fit the theme, approached you for a dance, hand extended and bowing at the waist.

“A lady as beautiful as yourself shouldn’t be a wallflower. Care to dance?” he asks, voice low and alluring, looking down at you with a mischievous glint in his deep brown eyes.

“I might…” you smile shyly, taking his hand and letting him lead you.

Once out on the dance floor, he pulls you into his chest with a hand on your lower back. It’s nice to be wanted, to dance so close to a man who finds you beautiful, especially one as chiseled as Grand. ‘Wait- is he…? Are you fucking kidding?’ Your fight or flight response kicks in as soon as you feel his hand drift lower and lower onto your ass. You pull away, ready to ask him what the hell he thinks he’s doing, but before you can get a word out, he puts a hand over your jaw, fingers tightly snapping your mouth closed. Unable to speak and too shocked to move, you feel helpless as he whispers in your ear.

“God, I love fat girls. Your self esteem is so low, I can do whatever I want and you’ll fall for it. So stupid, so fun.” His laugh is so dark, and you start to panic before a large, strong hand reaches between the two of you and wraps around Grand’s throat, yanking him back and off of you.

“Listen, this is a classy place, so I’ll give you a choice. Either you apologize to this absolutely gorgeous woman and get the fuck out of here, or I beat you to a bloody pulp right here and ruin both your suit and your face.” The handsome stranger who had originally caught your eye growls, voice so low and intimidating you didn’t doubt for a second he meant every word. ‘His voice sounds so familiar, but I can’t quite place it. He’s so angry, and he’s speaking so low, I can’t figure out where I’ve heard that before.’ Thankful for his saving assistance, and trying to calm yourself from hyperventilating, you watch Grand’s retreating form before turning to the man who is quite literally your Prince Charming of the evening.

Voice still low and angry, “Listen, I need you to distract me. Calm me down so I don’t turn around and kill that guy.” he seethes. “You are stunning, absolutely gorgeous. He was so wrong. He’s an asshole, absolutely vile, and he never should’ve even had the nerve to approach you, much less touch you. God fucking damn it, I should-”

You cut him off by pulling him close, placing your hands on his chest and letting them roam up to fix his still crooked bowtie.

“Thank you…” you whisper, tearing up as you put your head on his chest. His cologne is so calming, his scent enveloping you as his arms instinctively wrap around you and his hand finds the back of your head, holding you to his chest.

The two of you slow dance in silence, his head resting on top of yours, the scent of your shampoo and hairspray comforting him and taking him to a dream where he was dancing with the y/n he knew, feeling your soft body pressed against him, imagining how you’d look in the dress on the girl he was actually dancing with. ‘Oh fuck, y/n would look so fucking perfect in this. Her curves- fuck, this dress is soft- I would absolutely love to run my hands along her body in this dress, press her up against me like this, fuck her thighs- wait… SHIT-FUCK-NO’ Snapped out of his thoughts by the increasing tightness of his tux pants, he prays to god the sexy girl pressed against him doesn’t notice.

You notice something nudging against your thigh, breaking you out of your daydreams about the mystery man being Sero Hanta, opening your eyes before you realize exactly what you’re feeling. ‘Oh… OH. Holy fuck, did I make him hard just dancing? He- uh- feels… big… Maybe if I just-’ you subtly shift your hips, thigh brushing up against him and slotting between his legs just enough. A deep groan rises from his chest, and he leans down to your ear.

“Babygirl, if you keep doing what I think you’re doing, I’m going to have to return the favor~” His voice sounds so familiar, but the lust clouding the low rumble has it taking on an entirely new timbre. You lean in, feeling emboldened by his words, swiping your tongue along the shell of his ear with a simple “Oh really?~ And what if that’s the goal?”

With that, he crooks his finger under your chin and presses his lips to yours. What starts as a sweet and simple kiss quickly evolves into a deep, passionate kiss that left you breathless. His fingers gently resting on your neck, just above your collarbone, and tongue swiping at your bottom lip. You sigh into him, granting him access and letting his tongue explore your mouth, relishing in his deep rumbles and pressing impossibly closer, hoping he’d get the message and take you somewhere more private. Luckily, it seems he seems to read your body language and leads you to a side hallway by pressing his hand on the small of your back, possessively guiding you. Pushing you up against the wall, he leans back in to resume kissing you, with an arm steadying himself above your head. In a simply embarrassing display of clumsiness, your hand reaching for his cheek goes slightly off course, accidentally knocking off his mask and causing you to fumble to the floor to retrieve it. Upon looking up, you see Sero standing with a flushed face and his hand reaching up to the back of his neck, the endearing nervous tic you’d learned from him over the years. Oh God, if your heart wasn’t beating fast enough before, it sure as fuck was now… The man you had yearned after for years not only swooping in to save you from some low-life creep, but also having you in a kabedon against the wall of the fanciest place you’ve ever been in. He laughs, nervous now without his anonymity, and reaches down to help you up.

“I- uh- sorry, I might’ve gotten carried away. I hope you’re okay, I know I’m probably not the hero you wanted. I really do think you’re beautiful, you actually remind me of someone I know and- wow- I’m rambling…” He goes on like this, panicking that he’s somehow ruined your fantasy and disappointed you by existing. He only shuts up when you stand back upright and kiss him softly.

“You’re exactly the hero I want… The hero I’ve always wanted.” You blush, staring up at him with the most loving doe eyes you can manage.

‘Wait… Her voice… Is that- ?’ Sero came to quite possibly the best and utterly terrifying realization; that the girl he’d been lusting after all night and the girl he’d been wanting for years could be the same girl. He hesitantly brought a hand to your face, lightly grazing your mask as though asking for permission. You nod, never breaking your gaze on his concentrated expression, and parted your lips. He gingerly lifts the mask from your features, damning your anonymity, and each of you hold your breath in anticipation. The way he looks at you is like something out of a movie, or one of those shōjo manga you love to obsess over: pure relief, adoration, lust, love. Oh, you want him to look at you like that forever.

“Y/n, I-... You have no idea how happy I am that it’s you. I have been wanting to kiss you for years, and to finally do it, and with you looking… Wow- you are so fucking stunning, I have never seen anything as beautiful in my life. Fuck, I just- I wish I could tell you how perfect you are, express in words how flawless I’ve always thought you were- still do… “ Sero breathed all of this as though he had to get every word out before you disappeared. He held your face in both hands, lightly squishing your cheeks and stroking his thumb over your lips, taking in your hopelessly enthralled expression. “You know what? Fuck this. No- I mean- not ‘fuck this’, I just… I want to do this right. I want you, I need you. I want to express how important you are, I need to show you that you’re everything to me. I want to worship you, kiss every inch of your body and make you feel so incredibly complete and full and whole and appreciated. Do you understand?”

“Hanta… I- Yes. Yes. Please take me home, I need you. I want you. You’re the only one I’ve ever wanted.” You lean into his touch, wanting to be ever closer to his warmth.

You yelp as he suddenly picks you up, bridal style, as though you don’t even provide a struggle.

“HANTA, you can’t be carrying me, I weigh more than you, no no no, I’m too heavy, you can’t-”

“Y/n. I’m a pro hero, are you seriously telling me I can’t carry you? I can carry 3 people at once while hanging from a strip of tape in midair. I’ll hold you up forever if you’d let me.” He squeezes you in his hold, emphasizing his point.

His cocky attitude was majorly driven by how good you felt, soft tummy and jiggling tits against his torso, the perfect squish of your thighs in his powerful arms, chubby hands and cheeks tucked into his chest and the crook of his neck. He swore he could die happy right there. In the elevator, he took a moment to take in your entire figure, but upon reaching your feet, something turned him absolutely feral. Your shoes. You were wearing his colors. Every single piece of clothing matched his hero costume. ‘Holy shit… You knew. You wanted him before this even happened. You were his.’ The possessive growl that tore from his chest startled you as he adjusted you in his hold. He had your legs wrapped around his waist, hands unapologetically on the ample crux of your thighs and ass, lips on yours in a desperate kiss that was all tongue and teeth, grinding his hard cock against you. You whimpered against his lips, shocked by his sudden change of demeanor.

“Fuck, you’re wearing my colors, aren’t you? You want me to claim you? You want to be mine? I’ll give you anything you want, babygirl. I just need you to ask for it.~” He growled against your neck, nose tracing the column of your throat.

“Hanta, please, yes- ah~. I want to be yours. I only want to be yours. I need you. Please, please, please.” Normally, you’d be way too shy to beg this much, embarrassed about how desperate you sound, but fuck he’s making you so needy. The gasp that escapes you when Sero licks a stripe up your neck turns into a moan when he starts sucking a hickey over your pulsepoint. He feels so good, the heat between your thighs steadily building with every nip of his teeth and roll of his hips. You thread your fingers through the hair on the back of his neck and pull gently, earning a groan and a buck of his hips. He works his way up to your jaw, leaving pretty little marks in his wake, and returns to your lips like a safe haven. He strokes your tongue with his own, committing your taste to memory. He never wants to forget this moment, especially not when you lightly suck his tongue and pull him in further with those perfect fucking thighs. You’re so soft, being wrapped in your plushness with his fingers digging into the pliable flesh of your ass is too much. Sero’s sinful thoughts are interrupted by your fucked-out voice, so small and innocent, as though you’re afraid of his answer.

“Um… Can I- can I touch you? I mean- I- can I mark you, too?” You sound so unsure, not used to someone wanting to show you off. You’re so breathless, and he’d be lying if the pleading in your voice didn’t make his dick twitch in his pants.

“Awwww~ is my babygirl shy now? You want to mark me, too? Go ahead, mi amor, sí se puede. I’m all yours, just like you’re mine.” Sero cranes his head to the side, baring his neck to you, waiting for you to bless him with those full lips, waiting for you to make a show of him finally having the most perfect girl he’s ever known.

If he could’ve taken a picture of your face in that moment, he’d look at it every day. Squishy cheeks blushing, eyes wide with surprise and excitement, gaze clouded with lust. You were so pretty, he couldn’t wait to ruin you. Sero moaned as you sucked a small dark mark onto his skin and happily carried you from the elevator to his room. You tighten your arms around him when he reaches for his key card, involuntarily pushing your chest together and pressing up into him.

“Oh, mi corazón, if you keep pressing into me like that, voy a tener que lamer cada parte de ti y puede que no te deje ir…” His threats sound more like promises when he’s carrying you through the threshold and placing you down gently, though his hands never leave your body. Tracing your sides, memorizing your curves, squeezing any part he can get his hands on. His right hand inches down your torso, resting on the pouch of your tummy and making you flinch. Sero notices and worries he’s hurt you, or that you don’t want him to touch you. The hurt in his eyes is obvious when he takes in your tense muscles and eyes squeezed shut, realizing it’s your own insecurities holding you back. He wishes you could see how beautiful you are, see yourself through his eyes. He was going to make you feel so fucking loved, he just had to show you what he couldn’t express in words. You stripped him of his jacket as he unknotted his tie. With nervous hands, you unbuttoned his shirt and slipped it past his broad shoulders, fingers trailing down his sculpted chest and lean abs, admiring the enticing adonis belt and pretty trail of coarse black hair disappearing into his pants. Sero, with his ego now boosted by the lustful look in your eyes as you took him in, returned your gaze to his face with an intensity that made you shiver. He kept eye contact while sweeping your hair to one side, and slowly unzipping your gown. Your breath hitches in your throat as he leans down to place open mouthed kisses along your shoulders as he pushes your dress down your body, kissing down your arms as it falls, and places a sweet kiss to your hands. Pushing you onto the bed with a soft thud and climbing over top of you, he moves the hands that raise to cover yourself , grasping your wrists in one hand and cupping your cheek with the other, as he softly reassures you.

“Princesa, please don’t hide from me. I’ve waited for you for so long, and I want to worship every inch of you. I’m going to make you cry out my name, and show you just how perfect you are while you cum on my tongue. You will not say a single bad thing about mi amor, you understand?” he says lowly, so loving yet commanding.

“Yes, Hanta… I- I’ll be good for you, I promise.” you whine, praying your submission would please him.

The sound of his given name in that pleading tone has him painfully hard, but he’s too focused on hearing his name from your sweet lips again to care. You pull him down into a passionate kiss and roll your hips against his clothed cock when he laves down your neck and leaves love bites across your chest. He sucks your nipple into his warm mouth and rolls the other between his forefinger and thumb, earning a high pitched keen from you. He switches to give the same attention to the other side, tongue swirling around the peaked bud and relishing the way your chest heaves just from his mouth on your tits. ‘So needy… Fuck, how did I ever wait this long to see y/n like this and hear her sounds?’ Sero thinks to himself, so ready to watch your eyes roll back in your skull the minute you feel his cock fill you. The thought of you bouncing on his dick, watching you jiggle with his thrusts, letting him grip the fat on your hips and help you fuck yourself on him, feeling your lovely thighs straddle him, has him impatiently rutting into the mattress. He needs to taste you, leave marks all over your delicious tummy and thighs, and feel you coming undone beneath him. His large hands slide down your sides, rubbing back up under your breasts, gripping the extra flesh over your ribcage, the soft love handles on your sides, caressing the perfect pouch of your belly and settling on your hips. His mouth follows the path of his hands, kissing and licking every place you had deemed undesirable like they were the sexiest pieces of you, leaving dark hickeys on the front of your hips to remind you that all of these parts were now his to love.

“Lo siento, babygirl, pero no puedo esperar más, necesito mi lengua en ese bonita coño jodidamente ahora. Estas necesitan estar en el suelo ahora.” If his panting growl of Spanish didn’t already have your pussy gushing, his strong fingers ripping your panties and hoes off your body had you dripping onto the bed. Your shocked squeak turning into a moan when he parted your legs and nipped at the soft skin of your inner thigh, Sero is beyond delighted by feeling your beautiful thighs squishing against his face. If he could choose his end, it would undoubtedly be suffocating between this plush heaven. He snaked his arms under your parted thighs to hold your hips, squeezing and marveling at the feeling of your warm body protruding between his spread fingers, trying to fit as much of you in his grasp as he could and never getting enough. You’re just about to plead for him to touch you where you need him most when you lock eyes and hear the teasing lilt in his voice when he groans “Itadakimasu~” and flattens his tongue, licking a long, slow stripe up your slit.

“So wet for me, princesa, is this all for me? You’re so thoughtful to give me a meal so sweet.”

“Hantaaa, please. I want you, please don’t tease me, please touch me. I need- ah~”

Your begging is interrupted by his tongue diving into your sex, lapping at your slick like a man starved. The moans coming from the man between your thighs were sinful; in this moment, Sero Hanta was no longer the friend you’d watched superhero movies with and silently crushed on for years- he was a man, a lover, all you’d ever wanted. Wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking the sensitive pearl into his mouth, he pulled one hand from your hip and slowly slipped two long fingers into your sopping heat. The callused pads from years of hero training now rubbing perfectly against your walls have you crying out for him and grasping his hair, begging him to go faster. He suddenly props himself up, bringing his palm up to grind against your clit and slowing his thrusts, wanting to hear you beg for him and watch your desperate facial expression.

“What is it you want, babygirl? C’mon, you’re going to have to use that pretty little mouth of yours. Tell me what you want, baby, use your words. I wanna hear you beg for me.” That normally dopey smile was replaced with a lewd smirk, hungry and covered in your juices.

“H-Hanta, please please please. I need you, need your mouth. Please I wanna cum, please let me cum, I want you to fuck me! Please please pleaseeeee~” Hips bucking forward, sweat lightly covering your skin, hair splayed out, body covered in his marks, begging for him… Shit, he’d give you anything you asked for. Oh, he’ll give you what you need- don’t you worry.

“Good girl, such a good girl for me. I’ll make this pretty pussy cum. Hold onto me and just relax, princess.”

His lips returned to your clit, flicking his tongue and sucking lightly, and increased his pace. He curled his fingers just right, finding the spongy underside of your clit and he chuckles darkly to himself when your back arches, head falling back onto the pillows.

“There it is~, there we go, babygirl. Cum for me, just like this. I’ve got you, let go, cum on my fingers.”

It doesn’t take long after his mouth goes back to nursing on your clit and his fingers continuously hitting your g-spot for the coil in your belly to finally snap. You climax hard, eyes screwed shut and screaming out his name as his tongue works you through your high. Once you’ve come down, you open your eyes and see Sero sucking his fingers clean of your release and unbuckling his belt with the other hand. You sit up to kiss him, tasting yourself on his tongue, and unbuttoning his pants. He grows impatient with your pace, shoving his pants and tight boxers down at once. ‘Fuck, his dick is pretty’ you think to yourself, marveling at the masterpiece before you. He’s long, maybe 8.5-9 inches, thick enough to stretch your walls so deliciously but not too thick to fit in your mouth, prominent vein running along the underside and leading from the neat crop of black hair to the leaking tip, begging for your tongue. You start to rise to your knees before being pushed back into the duvet, looking up at him in confusion.

“No, no, mi amor. As much as I want to see your beautiful lips wrapped around my cock, that’s gonna have to wait. I want to be inside you, I need to fuck you until all you can think about is me and how fucking beautiful I think you are.” His eyes are so sincere. He looks down at you with the most loving stare you’ve ever felt, so calm and safe in his presence. You’re lulled into submission, every doubtful argument you had died on your tongue, and a soft moan escaped your lips. He leans over you, bracing himself on an elbow with his hand on your jaw to keep your eyes fixated on him. The other hand wraps around the base of his cock and teases the head along your slit, pressing on your clit just enough to have you squirming, trying to impale yourself.

“So needy for me, so wet. You’re so perfect, babygirl, I wouldn’t want to go too fast now. I want to savor every inch, feel you stretch around me while I watch those e/c eyes roll back in pleasure.” He holds back from thrusting into you when you whine in response, breathing heavy and struggling to get him inside. “Damn, baby, if you’re that desperate, why don’t you tell me exactly what you want? Beg for my cock, mi amor.”

“PLEASE, I need you inside me, please! I need your cock. Please fuck me, Papi~” You gasp out in succession, trying out the name you had once heard Kaminari teasing him about. It was a desperate attempt to get him to move, one your fucked-out brain decided was your best shot at getting him feral. And holy shit were you right. Sero fills you in an instant, hard length thrust to the hilt in your tight hole, causing you to cry out, eyes rolling back just as he promised.

“FUCK!” He’s losing restraint, driven mad by the filthy name coming from your angelic lips. The squeezing and fluttering of your walls is the only thing grounding him to Earth as he smirks down at you, baring his teeth while his other hand comes to wrap around your throat and apply light pressure to the sides. “Oh you know what you’re doing, don’t you? You have no idea how many times I imagined you calling me like that with these soft thighs wrapped around me; trust me, it’s nothing close to how sexy the real thing is. If you want to play dirty, princesa, don’t blame me when you can’t walk tomorrow.”

He backed up his statement with a few deep strokes that had your mouth falling open and eyes unfocusing, still unable to look away from the man about to wreck you. In a weak attempt to ground yourself, you reach up and place your hands on his back to feel the flexing of his muscles as he gave you slow, deep thrusts. Running your hands along his shoulders had your pussy clenching, and the groan pulled from his chest accompanying a harsh increase in his pace had your nails clawing at the corded muscles, causing him to put more force into fucking you into the mattress. A cycle of reactions, spurring the other on to continue and escalate.

“You feel so good, babygirl. S-So tight, you feel like you’re fucking made for me. I love you so much. I love everything about you. God, I fucking love your body- I love your curves, I love your legs wrapped around me, I love your sexy fucking thighs, I love your cute tummy- love how you feel pressed against me, I love running my fingers up your arms and kissing back down, I love gripping your hips when I hold you, I love watching you jiggle when you walk and bounce when I fuck you like this. You’re so fucking beautiful, so perfect for me.” Sero babbles out praises like he’ll die if he doesn’t get them out. You’re a blushing mess, knowing these words are completely true, tumbling out of his mouth unconsciously as he thinks them. “I love that expression, angel. Still so shy at my praises, even though I can feel you trying to milk my cock at every word. Such a good girl for me. Why don’t you tell me who makes this pretty pussy feel so good, huh? Say it, angel.”

“Hantaaa~ you feel so good. Please don’t stop!! I’m so close, please. I wanna cum, I wanna cum on your cock, please Papiiii~. You make me feel so good. I love you, I love you, I’m all yours. Please, I’m yours-ah~, I wanna be yours. I need you, I love you so much. Only you could make me feel like this-fuck- it’s only you. Please make me cum, Papi~” Your moans and pleas are getting louder and louder, chasing your impending climax. Every emotion flowing out of you, combined with the wonderful overstimulation, had tears rolling down your pudgy cheeks. You hadn’t yet realized you were crying when Sero leaned down to kiss and lick away the salty streams.

“Okay, princesa, I’ll give you what you need. How can I say no when you're being so good for me? Such a beautiful mess, all for me. So perfect. My good girl~” His right hand smoothes down your torso and settles between your thighs, rubbing tight circles on your clit. “Come on, babygirl. Papi’s got you, I’ll take good care of you. Cum for Papi. Cum on my cock.”

Your final orgasm has your back arched off the bed, eyes crossed, tongue lolling out, screaming out a string of “Hanta”, “Papi”, and “I love you”. Sero keeps his pace steady, fucking you through your climax and trying to prolong it as long as he can. The feeling of your doughy pussy clamping down around his cock like a vice, the gloriously wrecked ahegao face, and the sound of your cries as you creamed on his dick had him right on the edge of his own high. He started to pull out, not wanting to cross any boundaries, when he felt your legs pull him in even further. He looks back to your face; hazy, loving eyes drawing him in with that innocent look.

“Please cum inside me Papi, I want it! I’m yours, I want you. I want you to fill me up.” The permission to claim his longtime love and the aftershocks of your orgasm having you still pulsing around him finally push him over the edge. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, sucking and biting in a feeble attempt to muffle his moans of your name as his hips stuttered, thick ropes of cum warming your insides and painting your walls white. You feel so full and so content. Staying inside you, Sero rolls the two of you over to lay on his back, still holding your sweaty bodies together as he kisses your forehead and strokes your hair, telling you how good you did, how happy he was, how proud he was of you.

No one has ever made you feel so good, so wanted. Normally, your post-sex thoughts are plagued with insecurities, but instead all yoou can think about is Sero and how perfect this was. How beautiful he made you feel… and how you didn’t want it to end.

“H-Hey… Um… Sero?” you timidly get his attention.

“Y/n, I’m gonna need you to start calling me Hanta if we’re gonna be together. It’s a little weird to call your boyfriend by their family name, isn’t it?… Unless you wanna call me Papi, of course~” He says, his normal goofy grin and teasing tone returned.

“Wait… You- you really want to be with me? You don’t want me to keep it a secret? I will if you tell me to… I don’t want to embarrass you, I know I’m not exactly the ‘trophy wife’ the other heroes go for… I just really like you- um- actually, I’ve been in love with you for years now, and I just got really excited that you wanted me and-” Your nervous muttering is cut off with his lips softly pressed against yours, his hand moving to intertwine your fingers with his.

“Mi amor, I’ve been in love with you for just as long. You are my trophy, the greatest part of me. Every single thing I said is true, and I’ve thought those things for our entire friendship. If you think for a second that I won’t be walking around shirtless, showing off all of these marks to Kirishima and Kaminari, you don’t know me at all.” He winks at you and brings your hand to his lips, placing a gentle kiss there. “Princesa, babygirl, mi corazón… Nunca te dejaré, yo nunca te dejaré salir, yo prometo. I am yours, and you are mine.”

“I love you, Hanta.”

“I love you, too, y/n.”

You fall asleep on his chest to the calming rhythm of his heartbeat and steady breathing. Upon waking up, you assume you had just dreamed the entire affair, chalking it up to your vivid imagination and drinks at the ball. That is, until you realize you’re trapped in a tangle of limbs with Hanta, leg hiked over his body and arms encompassing each other. You try to shift slightly to see his sleeping face, but he stirs and rolls over on top of you with a groan. The jolt of his muscles jerking awake told you he also thought he had dreamed the entire thing, believing that the prospect of your mutual pining actually coming to fruition was too good to be true.

“Good morning, angel. I’m so glad you’re real… And that you’re all mine.” Sero softly sighs, voice rough from sleep, nuzzling his face into your chest and squeezing your soft midsection to hold you closer.

“Good morning, love. I’m so so happy, but there’s one thing…” You say, trying to hold back your giggles.

“What is it, baby? Is something wrong? What did I do?” Sero starts thinking of every possible scenario as you soothe his thoughts with a cheeky smile.

“I- um… I think I need you to carry me to the shower, you weren’t lying when you said I wouldn’t be able to walk in the morning.” Both of you erupt in a fit of laughter. He scoops you up in his arms and carries you to the shower, so content in finally having his girl.

___________________________________________________________

A/N: WHEW okay… I’m actually really proud of this, and I hope you guys like it. The Latin Sero headcanon hits me so hard and I just absolutely simp for this sweet tape boy. Huge thank you to @reinawritesbnha for inspiring me to write this matchup, @lemonlordleah-shinzawa-kitten for encouraging me and giving me the courage to post, and my dear, sweet Sage for reading it to make sure I don’t embarrass myself and inspiring me to write in the first place. <3

#sero x reader #sero hanta #hanta sero #sero hanta smut #bnha #mha #mha sero

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thedanceronthestreets · 3 years

Text

PEDRO PASCAL GQ GERMANY - OCTOBER 2020

Original text by Esma Annemon Dil

Fotos by Doug Inglish

Styling by Simon Robins

Translated by @thedanceronthestreets

Intro: A broken tooth could almost have been the reason for our meeting with Pedro Pascal to be cancelled - and with that our conversation about roots, his new movie and times of change.

Interview: It is almost eery how empty the streets of Los Angeles are under the gleaming sun. While Europe is finding its "new normal", people in L. A. are cutting their own hair even without being neurotics. Many of them have not seen their friends in half a year. The pandemic is out of control. So are the reactions to the situation. Inviting someone to a "distance drink" in the backyard can lead to the same consternation as proposing a relationship partner exchange.

All the more of a surprise was Pedro Pascal's immediate confirmation. To the drink, not the partner exchange. He is one of the winners this year - and if Corona had not forced the movie industry to go on a holiday, he probably would not have had the time for this drink. After "Game of Thrones", the series in which his head was squished, followed 2015 the leading role in "Narcos" as a DEA agent on the hunt for Pablo Escobar, and now the leap onto the big Hollywood screen. As of 1. October the Chilean will appear in the blockbuster "Wonder Woman 1984". Furthermore, the second season of the "Star Wars" series "The Mandalorian" will start in October with him as the main character - unfortunately underneath the helmet. But we all seem to be under the same helmet in 2020. It is this man we want to meet, who worked as a waiter in New York a couple of years ago. Whose parents are political refugees that settled in Texas, and one day their son decided to walk into a drama club in high school.

And then the cancellation. While we were preparing the house and garden for Pedro's drink and fashion shoot, which isn't an easy task under L. A.'s restrictions, his management called in with terrible news: Pedro has - no, not Corona - had to receive emergency surgery due to a sore tooth and is now lying in bed with a swollen cheek, making talking or shooting impossible. The sun shines onto empty streets. And our empty garden.

A few days later, he stands in front of the door anyway, no huge bulge in his face, but stitches in his gum. No limousine service that dropped him off, he arrived in his own car and picked up his makeup artist on the way. He helps her to carry in all the equipment and states first and foremost: "I've got time today!" What a star! It does not seem like we are about to ask him how he managed to become a Hollywood sensation, but rather him asking us that question. Pedro Pascal! So, what kind of star is he then?

Pedro Pascal: Sorry for ruining your plans. The operation was a total emergency.

GQ: Really? We were wondering whether the swelling was the result of a secret trip to the plastic surgeon. Apparently, because of the quarantine in Hollywood, their schedules are packed.

Sorry to disappoint you. A few days before our appointment I raced to the hospital with a tooth fracture and the worst pain I've ever felt - a hospital where the severe Corona cases are treated. I was unable to contact any dentists! Right before I parked, a specialist called back. I'll spare you the details of the surgery, gruesome. The pain was excruciating despite the 10 anaesthetic shots. The doctor said I wasn't the only one going through this, a lot of people grind their teeth at night thanks to stress.

What are you most afraid of at the moment?

The way the government is handling the pandemic scares me more than the virus itself. The lack of intelligent crisis management is a moral disgrace. The leadership crisis makes orphans out of all of us - we're left to fend for ourselves.

How have you spent the last few months?

With frozen pizza in jogging trousers in Venice Beach. I live in a rear building that's in the garden belonging to a family. In reality there are enough good takeout restaurants around that area, but for some reason I like salami pizza from the supermarket.

That doesn't exactly sound like the movie star lifestyle. What does it feel like to be forced from top speed to zero?

Considering the things happening in this world, my own state really isn't the top priority. But I would have to lie, if I said I wasn't disappointed. The entire cast and crew of "Wonder Woman 1984" put so much heart and soul into the production. We had so much fun on set. I had hoped to carry this feeling of exuberance around the globe to the openings of this movie.

You are part of a political, socialist family that fled the Pinochet regime in Chile. What do you remember from back then?

My sister and I were born in Chile, but I was only nine months old when we claimed asylum in Denmark. From there, we moved to San Antonio in Texas, where my dad worked as a doctor in a hospital.

Texas isn't exactly considered to be socialist utopia. How well did you settle in?

San Antonio isn't a cowboy city but rather very diverse with large Asian, Afro-American and Latino communities. In my memory it's a romantic place, culturally inclusive. The cultural shock only hit when we moved to Orange County in California later. Suddenly, the environment was white, preppy and conservative.

How were you welcomed in California?

To this day I'm ashamed when I think about how I let my classmates call me Peter without correcting them. I'm Pedro. Even without growing up in Chile, the country and language are part of me. I was quite unhappy in that place. At least I was able to switch schools and visit one in Long Beach, where I felt more comfortable. With its theatre programme, I found my path.

Could you visit your family's homeland as a child?

Yes, after my parents ended up on a list of expats that were permitted to re-enter the country. First, there was a big family gathering, then me and my sister were parked at some relatives' place for a few months while my parents returned to Texas. They probably needed a break from us. They'd had us at a very young age, had a vibrant social life, and my mother was doing her doctorate in psychology.

Was your mother a typical young psychologist that tested her knowledge at home?

You mean whether I was her lab rat? Absolutely. I can remember weird sessions camouflaged as games, where someone would watch my reactions to different toys. Even though I couldn't have been older than 6, I knew what was happening. My favourite thing was to be asked about my dreams. That was always a great opportunity to make up fantastic stories.

Was that your first performance?

Definitely! My strong imagination alarmed my mother, because I'd rather live in my fantasy world than in real life. I didn't like school. I ended up in the "problematic kid" category. At some point the subjects got more interesting and my grades improved. So many children are unnecessarily diagnosed with learning disabilities without considering that school can be daunting. Why is it acceptable to be bored out of your mind in class, when there are more stimulating ways to convey knowledge?

With everything happening in the world this summer: Do you believe that social hierarchy structures are genuinely being reconsidered?

Hopefully. After the lockdown my first contact with people was at the Black Lives Matter protest. The atmosphere was peaceful and hopeful until the police got involved and provoked violence. At least during these times we can't avoid problems or distract ourselves from them as easily as we usually do. It seems that the pandemic provided us with a new sense of clarity: we don't want to go on like this.

The trailer of "Wonder Woman 1984" represents the optimism of the 80s. That almost makes one feel nostalgic nowadays.

That holds true. It's two hours of happiness. Patty Jenkins, the director, managed to make a movie full of positive messages. We shot in Washington, D. C., then in London and Spain - which now sounds like a different time.

Do you miss travelling?

I've only now realised what a privilege it is to just pack up your things and fly anywhere. With an American passport you can travel freely. And that's why the small radius we live in now is kind of absurd. Over the last few years I often retreated in between takes, because I was always on the road and overstimulated. Friends complained about how comfortable I had become. We all took social interactions for granted and realise now how reliant we are on human connection. Now, I wistfully think about all the party and dinner invitations I declined in the past.

In L. A., people spend more time indoors or in nature than in other metropolises. Could this city become your safe haven after New York City?

My true home is my friends. Ever since I was young I've lived the life of a nomad and haven't set roots anywhere. Until recently, my physical home was a place for arriving and leaving and hence I didn't want to overcomplicate living by owning lots of things. The opposite actually: Without having read Marie Kondo's book, I got rid of all the stuff that was unnecessary and lived a very minimalistic lifestyle.

Is there something you collect or could never say goodbye to?

Books! I still own the literature I read during my teen and university years. Recently I found a box of old theatre scripts and materials back from my uni days at NYU. I can't separate from art either, same as lamps or old pictures. Furniture and clothes are no problem though, they can be chucked.

Do you remember any roles that were defined by their costumes?

Yes, "Game of Thrones" comes to mind immediately. During that time I first understood what it means, as an actor, to be supported by a look. I owe that to costume designer Michele Clapton. She developed these very feminine robes and brocade cloaks for my role that looked very masculine when I wore them. I felt sexy in them. And very important were of course Lindy Hemming's power suits and Jan Sewell's blond hair for the tycoon villain Maxwell Lord in "Wonder Woman 1984". Relating to the style, I couldn't really see myself in the role since the shapes and colours of the 80s don't really fit my body. My type is the 70s.

Do you adopt such inspirations into your private closet?

At this point in time, I'll choose any comfortable outfit over a cool look. Sometimes I mourn the days when I defined myself with fashion. It's a bit mad when I think about how, in the 90s as a teenager, I would go to raves; a proper club kid with crazy outfits: overalls, chute trousers, soccer shirts and a top hat like in "The cat in the hat knows a lot about that!" by Dr Seuss. Later in NYC I was part of a group that placed immense value on wearing a certain style. The fact that I only walk around in joggers nowadays is actually unacceptable!

Normally, actors who work on comic screen adaptations become bodybuilders and eat ten boiled chicken breasts per day. You don't?

My body wouldn't be able to handle that. I find it difficult enough to maintain a minimum level of fitness. As of your mid 40s, you suddenly need a lot more discipline. Until the tooth incident happened, I worked out a couple of times a week with a trainer to keep the quarantine body in shape.

What would annoy you the most, if you were your own roommate?

I can be very bossy. I have to gather all my goodwill not to force my movie choice on to everyone else. When I want something, I'm not passive aggressive about it, I attack head on. Also, I can get caught up in tunnel vision: When i feel down, I can't imagine that I'm ever going to feel better again. I have difficulty with seeing the bigger picture when experiencing problems or emotions. Method acting really wouldn't be my thing. That's why I try to only work on projects that feel good and where people encourage and lift each other up.

While you were trying on the outfits you pointed out a lack of self-esteem. How does that coincide with your career?

Isn't it interesting how traits and circumstances go hand in hand? Self-esteem comes from the inside, but it's also influenced by what society believes. We use critical stares from the outside against ourselves. I lived in New York for 20 years, I studied there and worked as a waiter up until my mid 30s, because I couldn't live off acting. It was always so close. The disappointment of always just barely missing a perfect part or opportunity is exhausting. When is the right time to stop trying and what's plan b? That's not just a question actors ask themselves, but anybody who struggles to earn a livelihood - unrelated to how much potential they have or how close their dream may seem. We are beginning to see now how our narrow definition of success is destroying our communities. At the same time, it's becoming obvious that, until this day, your family background and skin colour determine your chances of living a dignified existence.

What are the positives of becoming a leading man later in life?

I have the feeling that I've got control over my life - without the pressure of having to accept projects or be a social media personality. That surely also has to do with the fact that I'm a man. Women are surely pressured to appear quirky at any age.

Life is always a management of risks - especially at this time. For what would you risk losing something?

Usually, if you don't play the game you're not going to win anything. That applies to friendship, love, work, creativity. Anything that really means something to me, is worth the risk.

Wonder woman 1984 will appear in cinemas 01.10. The 800 million dollar earning DC comic franchise is moving into the New York 80s with its sequel. It looks spectacular - only Pedro Pascal with blond hair in a three piece Wall Street suit looks better.

#pedro pascal #gq germany #Gq

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sassyhobbits · 4 years

Note

Could we have an oln extra from elorcan pretty please *doggy eyes*

it would be my pleasure ;)

this takes place about a year before the ons epilogue!!!!!

elorcan ons oneshot pt1

~~~

Lorcan Salvaterre considered himself to be a level-headed man. He had immense patience and rarely let his emotions, positive or negative, get the better of him.

That’s why it was so surprising that anxiety had been roiling in his gut for the past week.

In the two years he had been living in Terrasen, so many things had changed.

Aelin had given him a job in security at the palace and he had recently been promoted to the head. His relationship with Elide had been growing stronger and stronger with each passing day. They had recently moved in together, Elide moving away from her native Perranth to work more closely with her family in the capital.

Lorcan never would have expected that the chore of traveling to Terrasen with Remelle would lead to so many wonderful things in his life.

He knew that he was in love with Elide. It was like nothing else he had ever felt in his life. He had never cared for anyone the same way he cared for her. It only meant one thing.

Which was why he was anxious.

Lorcan held no doubts about the fact that Elide loved him just as he loved her.

Yet the idea of proposing to her was utterly terrifying.

It hadn’t been a dramatic moment when he realized he wanted to marry her.

It had been a lazy morning in the apartment, and Elide had started on some eggs. Lorcan remembered leaning back on the kitchen island, admiring how she looked in his shirt, her dark hair glistening in the golden morning sun. And… he had just known. That he wanted to marry her. It hadn’t felt like a new idea, instead something he had discovered deep inside of him, as if it had always been there. Elide was it for him, that he knew.

But to propose to her, he would first need to get a fucking ring.

It was much more daunting a task than he would have expected.

Lorcan didn’t truly have an eye for finery, he never had, but he knew Elide deserved the very best.

Which was why he was calling for backup.

He made the call as he was driving towards the palace for work, dialing the number of someone he knew would be there. The other line rang for a few moments, and Lorcan wondered if he wouldn’t answer. But, there was finally a click and an irritable voice barking through the speaker.

“What the fuck do you want, Lorcan?”

Lorcan couldn’t stop himself from grinning at Rowan’s anger. There were only a few times when his friend would give in to his frustrations.

“I’m sorry, was I interrupting something?” Lorcan asked coyly. Rowan had confided in him earlier that month that he and Aelin had finally decided to try for a baby. Which meant they were having a ridiculous amount of sex.

“You know you did, you ass,” Rowan grumbled. Lorcan heard a soft, feminine laugh from the background followed by the shifting of sheets. It seemed whatever had been happening was now over. “What do you want?”

Lorcan simply blurted it out. “I need to buy a ring for Elide so I can propose but I don’t know where to start.”

There were a few heartbeats of all-encompassing silence on the other end of the call. “Oh. Wow. That’s big news, Lor.”

“Yeah… but, are you busy today? Can you help?”

Rowan released a long sigh. Lorcan could practically envision him running a hand through his short, silver hair. “I would, but to be honest, I wouldn’t know what to do either. I didn’t even pick out Aelin’s engagement ring myself.”

Damn. Lorcan had forgotten about that. They were so damned in love with each other that it was easy to forget about the rocky start to their originally arranged marriage.

“But,” Rowan continued. “I know someone who could help, if you want to call in the big guns.”

“Yeah. Anything. I need to get this right. Elide deserves it.”

“Damn right. I’ll let her know.”

…

The big gun’s Chanel heels clicked noisily on the marble floor of the jewelry shop she had picked out. As princess, Aelin Galathynius held a lot of sway and managed to get them a private shopping appointment at the shop she insisted would have what he needed.

She had spent the morning and the entirety of the ride to the shop giving him a basic understanding of jewelry and what women wanted. He hadn’t even thought about how the band color should compliment skin tone or that there were better ways of cutting diamonds. Some women didn’t even want diamonds as the main stones. Aelin’s own was an emerald. It was far more complicated than he had hoped.

Lorcan had never really spent much time one-on-one with the princess, but he liked her well enough. Her attitude had grated him the wrong when they had first met, but it soon found out that she was actually a good person. Tough as nails, too. She would make a fearsome queen one day.

“I’m not going to pick the ring out for you,” Aelin said shortly, smoothing out her silk skirt. “Elide deserves better than that. But, I can point you in the right direction.”

“Whatever you say.”

The princess gave a curt nod and motioned towards a glimmering display, filled with stunning, beautiful rings. He watched as Aelin ran an expert eye over them.

“These are the best designers,” she explained. “The rings are beautiful and crafted perfectly. Quality. If you want to get Elide something nice, this is where you’d get it.”

Lorcan nodded slowly, looking back towards the countless rings. He felt his nerves build up again as he looked towards them, wondering how the hell he was supposed to know which one was the right one. He felt Aelin’s eyes skipping back and forth from the jewelry to him, and he had no doubt she had already decided which one Elide would like best. He didn’t know if he wanted to thank her or strangle her for not telling him which one it was.

Lorcan took a deep breath, trying to tame his pounding heart. He studied the rows slowly, attempting to find one that he knew would encapture the woman he loved. He was just beginning to think that it was hopeless, that he’d fuck it up no matter what, when his gaze finally caught on one.

It was made of a bright, gleaming silver that twisted gracefully, supporting an oval-shaped diamond. A few smaller diamonds embraced the middle one each side. It was simple, but elegant. Lorcan knew Elide wouldn’t want the ring with the largest diamond on it, wouldn’t want it to be too loud or ostentatious. But this… this was perfect. He could already practically see it perched on her finger.

“That one,” Lorcan said confidently, pointing towards the ring. “That one is perfect.”

He looked towards Aelin, finding her lips spreading in a slow smile. She gave a pleased nod. “That’s an excellent choice. Elide’ll love that one.”

It was in that moment that it fully settled on Lorcan that this was real, that this was happening. He was going to propose to the women he loved. And hopefully she would say yes.

“I’m happy for you, Lorcan,” Aelin said earnestly. “For some reason, your miserable ass makes Elide very happy, and I can see she does the same for you. I’m glad you found each other.” With that, her eyes narrowed slightly and she leaned closer, lowering her voice. “That being said if you hurt her, what I’d do to you would make what I did to Hamel and his men seem merciful. Understand?”

It was easy to forget that under that golden hair and pretty clothes, Aelin Galathynius was a certified bad-ass. One that even Lorcan didn’t want to get on the bad side of. Not that he would ever admit that to her aloud. It would make her already enormous ego that much bigger.

“Believe me when I say,” Lorcan began. “That I am going to do everything in my power to make Elide happy until the darkness claims us.”

Aelin seemed satisfied with that answer. “I do believe you. Now, let’s get that ring.”

…

Buying the ring was only half of the struggle. Now Lorcan had to figure out the best way to propose to Elide.

It was constantly on the back of his mind, no matter what he was doing. At work, in the shower, lounging around the apartment with Elide… it wouldn’t leave him alone.

Neither would Aelin fucking Galathynius. Every time she saw him in the halls, she would bother him with questions about it. Whether or not he had picked a time, or if he was ever going to pull his head out of his ass and ask her at all. It was annoying as hell. He wasn’t going around asking her every thirty minutes if Rowan had finally knocked her up. But… although she was mildly infuriating, it was somehow a pretty good motivator.

After a week and a half of the idea of the ring burning a hole through his mind, Lorcan finally decided it was time.

It was Lysandra’s birthday, and they had all gathered at the palace to celebrate with friends and family. It was a small, private affair, but it didn’t make it any less enjoyable. In fact, Lorcan preferred it over large parties any day.

They enjoyed a nice dinner, everyone wishing Lysandra a happy birthday. She was beaming the entire night with Aedion by her side. Their own wedding was only two weeks away.

Lorcan had struggled to pay attention to the others around him all evening. His attention had been pinned on Elide the entire time. She looked lovely tonight in a silky, violet top and high-waisted white trousers, dark hair falling down her back in a gleaming sheet.

If anyone noted his distraction during dinner, they didn’t say anything. By the time desert had been consumed and they had moved to the parlor for cocktailing, he was nearly jittery. Or as close to jittery as he would allow himself to become.

He had finished one drink before he decided it was time. He was done with playing around.

“Elide, love?” he murmured into her ear from where he was sitting next to her on the couch.

“Yes, Lor?” she asked, turning towards him. Her fair cheeks were flushed from either the wine or laughing with her friends, dark eyes practically sparkling with happiness. The sight made his heart swell.

“Will you come with me for a bit?”

Elide raised a dark brow in question but nodded, placing her glass on the low table before her. Most of the room was too lost in conversation to notice them slipping quietly away, but Aelin’s sharp eyes landed on him. She was tucked under Rowan’s arm, lips spreading in a slow, knowing smile. As soon as Elide’s back was turned, the princess mouthed, Good luck.

Lorcan refrained from scowling at her, slipping his hand into Elide’s and guiding her gently out of the parlor.

The halls were dark and quiet, the light of the full moon bathing the marble floors in a pale glow. It almost felt as if they were the only two people in the world. Lorcan wouldn’t have minded that one bit.

The ring box felt like a massive weight in his pocket as he held Elide’s hand tighter.

“What are you up to, Salvaterre?” Elide asked playfully, leaning into his side.

“You’ll see soon enough.”

“A surprise?”

“You’ll see.”

Elide narrowed her eyes suspiciously. He could practically see the wheels turning in her mind. She was too smart for her own good. It was one of the things he loved about her. Lorcan wouldn’t put it past her to figure out what he was about to do before he did it. He could only hope that the gods were on his side tonight.

Lorcan led Elide outside towards the gardens. They were a beautiful space, taken meticulous care of throughout the year, filled with trimmed bushes and aromatic flowers. The summer air was comfortably warm, filled with the scent of night-blooming jasmine. With the light of the stars above them and the privacy, it was a perfectly romantic spot.

Lorcan led Elide over to a low, white stone bench situated before a tinkling fountain. He urged her to sit, taking the spot beside her, refusing to release her hand. He rubbed his thumb in slow circles over the smooth skin of her knuckles.

Lorcan tried to will words to his mouth, but it seemed the nerves had finally taken hold, making it far more difficult than he was used to.

“Elide,” he finally managed to rasp out, lifting his gaze to meet hers. “You mean the world to me. I love you more than I have ever loved anything in my lifetime. You know that, right?”

Elide smiled softly and nodded, placing her palm on the side of her face and looking deeply into his eyes. “I know. And I love you just the same.”

He didn’t think ELide would ever understand just how much those words meant to him. He was undeserving of a woman like Elide, but he would try every day of his life to become worthy of her.

“Elide…” Lorcan breathed. “You’re the love of my life. I treasure every day, every moment, I get to spend with you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you… if you’ll have me.” With that, Lorcan slid from the bench to the ground, getting down on one knee on the soft grass. He pulled the velvet box from his pocket, prying it open and holding it out towards Elide, feeling as though he was holding his very heart out in his hands.

Elide gasped and slapped a hand over her chest, eyes wide.

“Elide Lochan…” Lorcan said lowly, watching her face as her lips pressed together tightly and her eyes began to glisten in the silvery moonlight. “Will you do me the honor of marrying me?”

The single second of silence that followed his question was excruciating. But, eventually Elide relieved his suffering by choking out a sob and nodding.

“Yes, Lorcan,” she gasped. “Yes, of course I’ll marry you.”

Lorcan released a breathy laugh, almost unable to believe that she had actually said yes. He recovered from his shock quickly, taking Elide’s hand within his own and slipping the ring on to her finger. He had been right, it did look perfect on her.

“It’s beautiful, Lorcan,” Elide whispered, looking at the diamond for one more moment before launching herself at him. Her arms wrapped around the back of her neck as her lips came crashing down upon his. Lorcan didn’t hesitate before sweeping her up in his arms and rising, kissing the woman he loved, his fiancé, deeply.

“I love you so much,” Elide murmured against his mouth, laughing and crying and kissing him.

“I love you too, Elide. So much.”

Lorcan’s heart had never been fuller.

…

They stayed in the quiet gardens for a bit longer, lounging in the peace and privacy they provided. Lorcan held Elide the entire time, whispering in her ear about how beautiful she was and how excited he was to marry her.

But, eventually they decided to head back inside to their friends and break the news.

Elide wore a smile on her face the entire walk back. Lorcan had a matching one of his own.

As they reached the threshold, the low murmuring of voices faded away, all eyes on them. Neither he nor Elide said anything at first, only wearing those grins.

Eventually, Aelin sat up straighter, and demanded, “Well?!”

Lorcan looked down at Elide as she slowly raised her left hand higher, showing off her new ring. “We’re getting married!”

The room erupted into shouts of surprise and congratulations. Not all of them had known what Lorcan had planned to do. He figured the less people who had known the better, especially since Fenrys had a big, fat mouth.

Lorcan dealt with the attention the best he could, accepting a hug from Lysandra, clasping forearms with Aedion and Rowan, and shoving Fenrys away when he placed a smacking kiss upon his cheek.

Once the initial surprise had gone away, they all moved to sitting down once more. Aedion grabbed a bottle of champagne and popped it open to celebrate.

“Being engaged is all fun and games until it comes to the wedding planning,” Lysandra sighed dramatically. From across the room, Rowan gave a tiny grunt of agreement as Aedion nodded solemnly. “It’s so much work. You just want everything to go perfect. I’m still stressing about ours.”

“I’m sure everything will be great,” Elide assured her. “For both of us.”

“Yeah, and just think about it,” Aelin added, running her fingers through Rowan’s short hair. “No matter what happens at either of your weddings… it won’t be nearly as bad as our first one.”

A beat of silence.

Lorcan watched as Rowan looked up towards his wife disapprovingly. “That’s still not funny, Aelin.”

“It’s a little funny. It’s okay to laugh.”

Although Rowan didn’t take her up on that offer, the rest of them released tiny chuckles. It wasn’t much longer that they were back to rapid-fire conversation and rambunctious laughter. Rowan and Aelin as well as Aedion and Lysandra shared stories about the woes of wedding planning. Although it did seem daunting, Lorcan held no doubt in his heart that they would persevere.

He glanced back down at Elide, the woman that he loved, before brushing a kiss over the top of her hair. She leaned deeper into his side, snuggling close.

Every minute of work would be worth it to call Elide his wife.

#elorcan #one night standards #ons one shot #my writing #throne of glass

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calpops · 4 years

Text

reverse revival | c.h.

Calum didn’t have the right words to restore the past. He couldn’t reverse time and make himself realize what he knew all along any sooner. There would be no going back and fixing the moment; there was no way to make it come before the night where nothing went right. Just one night was able to bring back all of the defining moments in Calum’s relationship. The good and the bad, the love and the heartache, the maybes and the somedays.

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A seething silence sat in every inch of Calum’s home. A winter moon was just a sliver in the sky, every empty corner inside echoed back words said in the heat of the moment. His back pressed to the hallway wall, head thumping lightly against it as his hands came up; fingers tangled in his hair. His palms pressed into his forehead and his teeth sank into his lower lip; brown eyes burned without remorse and an involuntary sob that built from his chest up escaped. He fought off the urge to slide down the wall, collapsing in on himself and warding off problems. It was innate to Calum to shut down and close off when the world became too much; he thought he had broken the self destructive habit when he met her, she was one of the few people who could shatter the self imposed silence and make him open up.

Calum took in a shallow breath though he intended for it to be deep. His chest was tight and his throat felt as if it was closing, body pushing off the wall and moving on instinct to the door at the end of the hall. He didn’t knock though it stood closed with reason. His tense hold on the doorknob faltered, his shoulders rolled back and he gathered courage. She was behind the door, waiting in her own world of self imposed silence that would warily welcome Calum and bring him to a sudden stop. The door swung open and Calum stood motionless, her back was to the door, chin resting on her hands and elbows atop her knees, legs hanging off the bed and body still.

Calum managed to get out her name though it was bittersweet as it rolled off his tongue.

There was still a deepset burn that ached through his chest, a night of harsh words and miscommunication haunting them both. She turned to take a peek at him, tired eyes watery and nose twitching. Her hands were shaking and restless, fingers digging into the sheets and eyes flickering away from Calum’s gaze. Calum furrowed his eyebrows, forehead creasing and hand coming up to pinch at the bridge of his nose. His breathing was thought out; forced and painful as his throat continued to feel as if it was closing in.

She licked at her bitten raw lips; in times of distress her teeth sank into her lower lip, leaving reminders of peril in their wake. “What?”

Calum let out a huff and dropped his hand. The one worded question was enough to prompt him to go to her side. The word was softer than those exchanged just minutes earlier. It encouraged him to sit on the edge of the bed, inches between them and uncertainty clinging to his next words.

“Let’s go for a drive.”

An incredulous look crossed her face, one that had doubts plaguing Calum’s mind, regrets running rampant over five small words. Maybe his plan was foolish. Maybe the time he spent behind a closed bedroom door in silence had concocted nothing helpful. He swallowed nervously and waited for her response though he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear it anyway.

“Alright,” she said between a strained breath with eyes that pooled tears and hopes and fears for all that a silent night turned to a drive were worth.

Calum nodded; too scared to speak and break the delicacy of agreement. He was too nervous and unsure to reach for her hand as he usually would, but he could almost feel her fingers locking with his, could almost trace the lifelines on her palms and knew they matched his. Instead, he put one hand in his pocket and stood, the other timidly guiding her with a separation; it stayed in midair, too overwhelmed to press to the small of her back to lead the way. They stumbled around each other and to the bedroom door, sneaking glances as they walked out; taking deep breaths and keeping them in with chests and hearts wound so tight they didn’t know if they’d ever be able to let them go. Only when they reached the front door did a blast of cool air force their exhales; lungs crying in relief and harmony, hearts hanging in silence and tandem.

They reached for their shoes and coats and pulled them on over pajamas; hers reached lower past the short nightgown clinging to her body. Calum’s was leather and smelled like her—so often it found a way to her shoulders on nights when he told her to bring a coat but she never did. Calum stayed silent as they got in the car, only the click of buckles and the hum of the engine coming to life accompanying them. Headlights cut through the night, small flurries of snow lit up and glimmered in the distance. She stayed quiet in the passenger seat; slipped on a mask that bid glossy eyes goodbye and shrouded her in a facade of calm. Calum couldn’t do the same. He couldn’t keep his grip on the wheel from white knuckles or the plummeting feeling from crashing through his stomach. His jaw was set and terse. Eyes distant and yet they took in every minuscule detail of the night; contemplating all that was ahead and all they could leave behind. He wore his heart on his sleeve and emotions on his face. Only with her. Only for her.

They drove on, minutes passing in a blur of headlights and hums. Calum was rigid and unrelenting in his resolve to fix what was breaking. He knew his emotions were heavy and diluting rationale. He knew his heart was yearning for an easy way out and simple fixes to bigger problems. He still felt tight and breathless, winded and uncertain he should let go. From the corner of his eye he saw her shift, saw the mask of calm crack with concern.

“It’s okay. We’re going to figure it out, we’re going to work through this.”

Her comforting words collided with Calum’s hopes. Knowing she wanted the same eased some of the aches, took away some of the uncertainty and helped to build more hope in stained glass walls around his heart.

“Breathe,” she reminded in a whisper and everything bottled up inside of Calum began to let go in fractured pieces that caught the light.

Pressure released slowly; first with a breath, then with dropping shoulders and a relaxed jaw. The road was desolate; the late hour and cold temperature keeping people inside. The path Calum drove was familiar. Turns led to a place that was once considered home to them both. A small apartment complex came into view as Calum eased on the breaks and stopped the car. It stood lit up by the headlights; old stone and ivy climbing the building brought back memories in droves. But one moment stood out in Calum’s mind more than any. It was a night filled with hope and doubt and fears drowned out by desires that a question he’d been dying to ask finally fell from his lips.

“What are we doing here?” She asked and Calum could hear the hitch in her voice and found nervous eyes taking in the old building.

“Remembering,” Calum mumbled and shrugged as he put the car in park and undid his seatbelt; hoping it might alleviate the task that breathing normally was becoming. “I never officially lived here with you, but I realize now that it always felt like our first home.”

The crack in her mask of calm expanded, breaking away entirely as she took in his words and softened; once hardened gazes melting into something much more familiar and welcoming. She nodded, understanding the feeling that Calum was trying to explain. Reminiscing in much the same ways. Missing times when their world was confined to a five hundred square foot studio apartment. Before complications. Before miscommunications made them breathless from words exchanged and hearts finding uncharted doubts.

“I felt that way too,” she said in a whisper and finally met his gaze.

He laughed at the insistent memory forcing its way through his mind. The scattered pieces laid out in a gleaming and familiar pattern, yet it taunted him, was daunting and left his skin prickling with ambivalence.

“It took me months to finally ask if you wanted to live together,” he admitted and noted the way her fingers curled into her palm. He shook his head at the intrusive memory but accepted it into his mind anyway. “And I didn’t even do it in the way I wanted to. My whole plan failed.”

“You had a plan?” She asked, voice teetering on calm and intrigue.

Calum had never shared the failed plan with her; tucked it away into the recesses of his heart and mind and left it alone with the shadows. Her question begged to bring it into stained glass light; to see the reflections of color and failure in dazzling bursts of a past that never was. Calum sucked in a shaky breath and ran a hand through his hair before clearing his throat. He took in her curious and waiting eyes, the way they didn’t falter when finding his gaze and wouldn’t let go.

“I was going to make it a big thing to make up for the last attempt at a romantic gesture,” he explained and watched as recognition flickered in her eyes and turned a taut frown into an easy smirk. “I had the whole night planned. I was going to surprise you when you got home from work; but a storm brought you home early and knocked out the power. There would’ve been string lights and music and dinner. It would’ve been perfect. Instead it was what it was.”

She smiled, hand releasing and fingers relaxing as she too became immersed in a moment neither could forget.

“I thought it was perfect,” she said in a low tone, hand daring to reach for his; always being the first to cross uncharted territories and reach for the things they both wanted. He reveled in her touch and words; felt himself let go of pieces of the past. “I don’t think I could ever forget opening the door and having you immediately blurt out ‘let’s live together’ when I thought we already kinda were.”

Calum laughed through a tight throat and burning eyes. “You’re always one step ahead of me.”

“That’s the problem,” she mumbled and Calum felt those words cut through him.

Though she meant it in a way to paint a light of fault on herself Calum took it to his heart and let it glimmer against the things he felt were his fault instead. They were fine tuned to each other but always running on different circuits. She was a step ahead, a second before him, a plan to a fleeting thought. Sometimes he couldn’t keep up; not in the ways that mattered. Five words came as a revelation to them—even though they both knew it deep down it shocked them both into silence. Instead of saying something, anything, to help bring them back to the moment and the struggles they were facing—Calum falling behind as she watched with what he assumed was silent resentment—he peeled out of the parking spot and headed further into their past.

The night was cold and the streets were lined with fresh snow from the small storm the night was bringing. Calum drove them away from the apartment building, past a failed attempt at a question and to a place of admission. They exited the car, tugging coats closer around them as winter wind bit at their skin. Lights that would usually flicker with life were dulled from the storm.

“Do you remember?” Calum asked into the thick silence; his body was tense and unsure, waiting for a response that could make or break him.

“Of course I remember, Cal.” She was soft spoken, voice drifting to a time long past.

Calum let out a small laugh, one that slipped through the cracks of his resolve at the absurdity of the memory. It wasn’t funny, yet he stood with her by his side, frame shaking from the guffaw that spilled out of him. “I messed it all up.”

The sentence brought Calum back to the first time they had walked through an imposing wooden door. He had showed up forty five minutes later than he should have though he was the one to pick the time. He’d been held up at the studio, been pushed back even further by the snow that began to fall from the sky. There’d been an apprehension in Calum as he had made his way towards the restaurant, he contemplated if all those mishaps had been signs. If maybe what he was going to say was better left for another day. But he had stopped short as he entered and she sat waiting; one hand was pressed to her cheek, lips puckered and patient, her hair was perfectly disheveled from the winter wind and impatience for styling and Calum’s heart skipped a beat. All the inhibitions and second thoughts melted away as she turned and caught his eye, her eyes were bright and gleaming against the lights; content to pull him in and keep him under.

“I was late. You were patient,” Calum started again, recounting the misfortunes the night had brought them. The added meaning weighing heavily in the air between them. “The waitress hit on me. You laughed it off. I hated what I ordered so you offered me your plate. They were out of dessert. You said you’d make cake at home. And when the time came for me to finally say what I should’ve said months before; I messed that up too.”

She shuffled her feet and let out a tight giggle, it was strained and Calum could hear the attempt to replace tears with laughter. She pressed the smallest bit closer to Calum and let out a breath to recollect herself before they would forge their journey onward and deeper into the past.

“You love me?” She repeated Calum’s words verbatim, only her voice had gained confidence and control after laughter that threatened to break them both. Calum’s voice had cracked and spluttered as he realized his mistake.

Calum shook his head in disbelief, breath leaving his body in a plume as it collided with the cold. “I couldn’t even tell you that I loved you right. I said ‘you love me’ instead and all you did was nod. I did it all wrong with the right person.”

She sighed, smaller than Calum had and grabbed his hand with a timid reach. “It wasn’t wrong. You did everything you could, the best you could.”

Calum shook his head solemnly, no matter how many times he thought back to that night it never sat right. No matter how many times she had reassured him it was okay it never felt like it was. He couldn’t count the times he had wished for a do-over; for a second chance at a first confession.

“It was snowing,” she spoke up, catching Calum’s attention once more with a squeeze of the hand and never wavering eye contact. “You left the studio as soon as you possibly could. Inspiration couldn’t wait—I could. You were worth every minute.”

Calum shrugged, eyes burning and throat tightening as she continued justifying a night that always sat like the weight of the world on Calum’s chest.

“You couldn’t help but be charming, it’s in your nature. It’s part of why ‘you love me’ had me nodding. I didn’t even question it. Because I did—I do. And I knew what you meant when you said it. Someday had arrived. You finally loved me too.”

Her choice of words ripped the breath from his lungs, scattered it into the cool night air and let it hang with hurt and doubt and months of guessing. He knew well before he said those words that she loved him. Could tell by the way she looked at him, by the things she did and the patience she wore on her sleeve. She was ahead of him again, waiting for him to catch up—left to wonder if he ever would. Or if he would leave her ahead, veer off course and find a new path and pass her at a parallel. He couldn’t imagine those months of uncertainty and wonder. He didn’t want to try to comprehend the pain that must have sat with her as she knew what was in her heart but questioned if the same was in his.

Calum didn’t have the right words to restore the past. He couldn’t reverse time and make himself realize what he knew all along any sooner. There would be no going back and fixing the moment; making it come before the night where nothing went right, he couldn’t change the circumstances. All he could do was tell her how he felt. Try to make up for the spaces between them and the paces he fell behind on.

“I know you say it’s all okay,” Calum began, nervously licking his lips to buy time he wasn’t sure they had and brushed his thumb across her knuckles. “But I’m sorry for how it happened.” That it didn’t happen sooner.

She nodded, expression contemplative and calm. “There’s nothing to apologize for. I wouldn’t change any of it; even if we could.” They couldn’t.

He interlocked their fingers and led them back to the car. Away from a piece of their past made of jagged edges and transparent regrets. They drove away in a somber silence, Calum dove head first and trench deep into the reasons for the complications as a winding road took them further into their past. To a place that highlighted all that was wrong and spun their emotions with whirlwinds of mistakes. To a place of the past that Calum hoped would help them heal their present and keep them together in the future.

The car was parked and the headlights lit up Calum’s old house. They had spent years there together. Her place was more of a home to them but Calum’s still made way into their memories; moments burned with regrets and lessons learned. They discovered many pieces of themselves and each other within the walls of the house. It stood empty now; on the market to be sold again. Through the glare of the headlights on the windows Calum could see shadows dancing along the hardwood floor and painted walls. But all he could remember was one certain night; stepping around each other and away from their problems.

“Why did we come back here?” She asked and Calum knew the memory in his mind must have worked its way into her thoughts as well.

She was still in the seat next to him and couldn’t tear her gaze away from the house; couldn’t get her mind off the moment that almost broke them. A moment just like this night had brought them; silence and uncertainty was entangled in their past so intricately they couldn’t be forgotten. Words were left unsaid and emotions ran so high they escaped them completely.

“I don’t think we ever really worked through it,” Calum mumbled and she sighed in a knowing way. “Maybe we wouldn’t be here right now if we had. Maybe we need to now.”

Pain flashed through her eyes; nose twitching and forehead creasing as she considered his words. She nodded, hand now gripping the seatbelt as hard as his hand had gripped the wheel at the beginning of the night. Heat poured through the car but an icy feeling washed through Calum’s veins. Snow still fell in flurries outside and Calum could recall leaves drifting in the night air years ago. It wasn’t a night he wanted to remember or revive. They had brushed it away, left it in a corner of the house to be forgotten when they finally moved in together. Their problems sat abandoned in empty spaces and hollowed hearts. Digging up broken pieces of their past was a necessary pain. If they didn’t, they may never be whole again.

“It’s my fault,” she said and shocked Calum; his mouth hung open in his surprise and his body went still.

He faltered at her admission. Neither had ever taken blame for that night. They were both much too stubborn and content to let fault and blame simmer and boil between them with silence and heartache. Calum stole himself and shook his head; tried to come up with words and a way to shift her feelings but came up empty.

“I shouldn’t have—I can’t—expect you to be on the same page as me. To feel the same as me. I need to give you time.”

Calum’s chest was tight and he couldn’t help the shaky breath that escaped him in a painful force. He looked at her; took in her form highlighted by white winter moonlight and yellow headlights. Her eyes fluttered closed and stayed shut; pained breaths lifted her chest and shook her body. Calum shook his head, refusing to let her take the blame though he knew she couldn’t see the motion. His fingers curled into his palms and dragged across his sweatpants; hands clenching and jaw getting tight.

It had been a night of harsh words exchanged and questions going unanswered. She had wanted more than what he was giving; a promise, an inclination that they were going somewhere, anything more than what already was. More than dates Calum tried to write off as casual, more than hookups and half assurances and lingering wonder eating at her. Calum always knew she deserved more than that. Before the tears and screams and self doubt plagued them on a night when the world was too calm and quiet for such an event. She just wanted to know it was more than what she thought; or at the least that it might be someday. She only ever asked about someday.

“I shouldn’t have made you wait,” he began and knew she would jump in if he spared even a breath. He shot her a glance as her eyes opened and begged silently for her to stay quiet so he might speak his piece. “It wasn’t fair for me to want everything except commitment from our relationship. I didn’t want anyone else. I was being an idiot. Maybe I was just too scared to really have you… because if I had you I could lose you.”

“I wasn’t going anywhere,” she soothed and reached a hand out for his, the touch punctuating the meaning of her words. “I’m still not.”

The night brought them back to a memory that first defined them. A first date was now desolate in the winter weather where once it had been vibrant and abundant with life and hope. They stayed in the car this time, letting the heater keep them warm as the memory of awkward brushes of their hands and blushing cheeks made way into their thoughts. Calum knew they needed the contrast of a time so simple and sweet to the haunting memories of a fight that bit with venomous teeth. They could hear the waves lapping against jagged rocks in the distance, and took in the foreboding height of the lighthouse standing on a rocky cliff. Night clung to the sky but brightened by a roving light. Fights melted away in favor of first experiences. Heartache eased with memories of fluttering nerves and breathless conversation.

Calum tore his gaze away from the foreboding image of the roving light calling out to life and cutting through the spattering of snow the coast was receiving. The air was thick in the car but nothing compared to when a door separated them. They had ventured through the darkest parts of their story, dove head first into regrets and came up to the surface with hearts and lungs seeking breaths of relief and comfort. They found all of that within each other; in reached for hands, forgiveness and promises. With hope for a future together looming on the horizon of an ocean guarded by rocky edges and happy moments. Calum finally felt he was able to breathe without a crushing force of guilt sitting on his chest and weighing him down; without anxiety that the night might be their last.

“How long has it been since we were here?” She asked and Calum saw her eyes glossed over, highlighted by moonlight that rippled off the waves and shined when tears finally fell.

“A while,” Calum answered; fully knowing it’d been years since they first and last visited the lighthouse.

“You always said we could come back,” she reminded and quivering lips forced a smile. “I’m glad we finally could.”

Calum nodded his agreement and let a moment of silence and contemplation sit with them. It was his idea to go to the lighthouse for a first date—he tried to think outside of the usual dinner and movie first date cliche. He wanted something scenic but the likes of a picnic in the park seemed too ordinary for her. He wanted to impress but not admit the thought and effort put in; he wanted it to seem effortlessly perfect in a sense. He thought with all of himself, sometimes with too much of himself and for too long; often dubbed an over thinker, and sometimes finding it coming back to bite him. He overthought their first date and everything after that. Every moment and aspect of them. He questioned and writhed over answers that only time could give him. He realized now—with eyes on her lit up by their first date years after it happened—that he should have been living every moment with her and not questioning what the next would be.

“Should’ve been sooner,” was all Calum could say in response. A lot of things should have been sooner. “It’s hard to believe it’s been years.”

She laughed; less strained than before but still with a touch of melancholy in the rise and fall of the giggle. She wiped the tears off her cheeks and sniffled. “Sometimes it feels like yesterday… I can still remember everything.”

“Remind me; about all of it?” Calum requested; knowing he was too inside his own head to remember the finer details. He wanted to know the moment and see the memory from her point of view.

She had a way of taking things in and recalling them; words outside a closed restaurant easing Calum’s woes and instilling a sense of safety and love inside him. She let out a small sigh from the passenger seat, neck slightly craning to look out the driver’s side window and to the once grassy area just off the structure and rocky paths. She looked right past Calum but he knew she was conjuring up images of him from that day in her mind. Another small smile begged at the corners of her lips, a great contrast and compliment to the tears that had fallen moments before. She was somber and serious but her touch to his shoulder was soft and light and a reminder of all their times past.

She licked her lips and let her teeth sink into her bottom lip for just a moment. It was less peril that drove the motion and more a feeling of helpless want; a want that couldn’t be met, she couldn’t actually go back to that moment made only of happiness. Her lip sprang free and she finally turned back and caught his eye.

“It was such a nice day. The sun was out and the water was calm. I showed up and you told me you’d been waiting for me for a while; I don’t know if you actually were but I remember it got me to blush. You’ve always had this way of saying things that are so ordinary but feel so much more than that. I guess that’s why I fell so much faster than you. You never gave me time to slow down.”

Calum’s eyebrows furrowed and his mind spun. He could remember that moment and those words, in the moment they were fleeting and reactionary, a way to see her get flustered and note her reception to him. Looking back now he realized they were true; he had been waiting, in more ways than just at the lighthouse for a first date. He’d been waiting for someone like her, someone who could shatter his perception of what he had always known, challenge him and his heart. It was unfortunate she was the one to wait in the end.

“You planned everything. The view, the food, the flower you gave me,” she started to regale again, voice lost in the memory and drifting in and out of the moments they lived and were living. “It all seemed so perfect. I’d never been on a first date that had so much thought put into it.”

She saw through his facade of effortlessness and seeing the truth. He considered that might be why he could never get away with brushing off his feelings and hiding from his own heart with her. She knew him, could see through cloudy stained glass and straight to his heart. She knew before he did.

“And then it started raining,” she said through a laugh and threw her head back to the headrest of the seat. She let out a breath and let her hand trail from his shoulder and down his arm, slowing where she knew tattoos stained his skin before lacing their fingers together. “You accounted for everything—except the weather. One moment the sun was out and you were leaning in to kiss me. The next it was downpour and I was laughing against your lips.”

Calum warmed at the memory though he could almost feel the bite of unexpectedly cold summer rain against his skin. He nodded to himself as the memory broke like the storm clouds in the sky. Snow still fell in light flurries and the night was starting to fade, tinged of deep purple trying to rise on the horizon. Calum didn’t say anything else as he put the car back in drive and headed off once more. There was one last place to visit. One last memory to relive and one more question to be asked.

Their last destination of the night had them climbing out of the car and tugging their jackets closer to them, standing pressed together for warmth. They parked down the block and walked through a haze of snow to familiar windows with remnants of flowers left from a season passing. This was where Calum first spotted her, through the windows in just a glimpse. He had stopped in his tracks as she disappeared in a split second. He did a double take and she came back to him; flowers in her hands and hair and a smile worn so brightly it rivaled the beauty of bouquets. It was days before they officially met and time stood still when he caught the first sight of her. He didn’t know it then, wouldn’t understand it through most of their time together, but now—stood with a night of memories floating through his mind and heart—he realized it was love at first sight.

“You came in with the worst excuse for needing a bouquet I’ve ever heard,” she mumbled and Calum laughed; knowing his reason was a thinly veiled excuse to have a conversation with her. “I forget; was it your mom or sister that ended up with it?”

Calum grinned. “I did, actually.”

There was no way he could give away a bouquet crafted by her. His shoulders slumped at the admission, finally feeling some weight lift from him; the air was cold but welcome against his heated cheeks. The snow had stopped but the biting chill of winter kept on. He wondered how she wasn’t shivering; her layers so minimal and legs completely exposed. Usually he shrugged off his jacket and draped it over her and she’d sink into the material with a smirk and a blush. He never realized she wasn’t cold and she never denied the offer. Wind whistled past buildings and trees; swept through the small town and curled around them, her hair blowing back and her jacket opening. She didn’t mind the breeze or the cold at all.

Red among darkened gray and timid spatterings of white caught Calum’s eye. A fallen flower sat in the snow; petals holding on for dear life. He moved to it, bent down to pick it up and held it in a loose pinch. His eyebrows furrowed as he turned back to her and saw interest run across her face.

“A peony,” she declared and reached one hand out to softly brush her fingers over the petals. “Just like in the bouquet.”

Calum wasn’t sure what it was—the night of memories, the warmth she instilled in him with just a look, broken stained glass barriers sitting in fractured pieces, or the coincidence of a flower laid in the snow. Whatever it was, thoughts that couldn’t be ignored screamed through Calum’s mind. With a breath and a heart made of hope he fell to one knee.

“Marry me?” Calum asked, knee pressing into the cool concrete below, sweatpants dampening from the slush lining the sidewalk. The flower he had picked up was now a symbol and an offering in place of a ring he’d been eyeing through a shop window. He held the flower out to her with all of his heart and hope etched into every petal.

“No.”

Her answer was startling and sure. Voice unable to be swayed and the one word enough to knock Calum forward, body lurching into the weight of his knee and his other leg giving, foot slipping on the sidewalk as he fell to both of his knees. Flower in his hand dropping to the ground.

“No,” she continued and the repeated word struck another chord deep in Calum’s heart. She bent down, settled with bare knees on the concrete to be directly in front of Calum. Gentle fingertips brushed through his hair and trailed along his jawline. “Not yet.”

“Not yet,” he repeated and was unsure if it was a question or an agreement.

She nodded, eyes glossy and shining against minimal light of new day. “Someday. When we’re both completely ready.”

“What if I am ready?” Calum asked before he knew if he was. Dropping to one knee and two words escaping him had been rash and not at all the way he might have planned it. Nothing had ever gone as he had planned.

“What if I’m not?” She wondered aloud and inched closer to him; trying her best to communicate without words.

“You’re not?”

“Maybe… I don’t know yet.”

“Isn’t that what the fight was all about?” Calum whispered with strained breath and burning eyes. “I thought you wanted this. You’re always a step ahead of me. You always lead. I thought I should this time.”

“Cal, I never expected a proposal. I just wanted to know if we want the same things. When we’re both ready. I just needed...” she trailed off and her nose scrunched as she contemplated the right word. “A solid answer. Something other than a maybe; to know if we were walking the same path—together. I just wanted to know if you wanted it to happen someday.”

“It will,” Calum promised, content to be the one to wait this time. A reverse revival of their love told him it would be worth it. “You love me?”

“You know I do. And I know you love me too.”

If you’d like to be added to my tag list just let me know!

Tagged: @rosecolouredash @irwinkitten @golden-hood @who-do-you-love-5sos @caswinchester2000 @wildflowergrae @empathycth @cuddlemecalx @malumsmermaid @babylon-corgis @outerspaceisbetterthannothing @mariellelovescupcakes @xhaileyreneex @goth5sos @gosh-im-short @feliznavidaddycal @loveroflrh @findingliam-o @flowerthug @g-l-pierce @talkfastromance4 @cashtonasfuck @sc0ttish-wildfl0wer @wastedheartcth @calumscalm @notinthesameguey @akafeliznavidaddy @myloverboyash @treatallwithkindness @haikucal @wiildflower-xxx @calum-uncrowned @egyptiangoldhood @mantlereid @drarryetcetera @allier59 @megz1985 @idk-harry @dinosaursandsocks @wildflower-cth @idontneedanyone @everyscarisahealingplace @myfavfanficsever @hemmingslftv

#calum hood #5sos #5 seconds of summer #calum hood blurbs #calum hood imagines #calum hood angst #5sos blurbs #5sos imagines #5sos angst #calum hood x you #calum hood x reader #5sos x you #5sos x reader #calum hood blurb #calum hood imagine #5sos blurb #5sos imagine #chblurb

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marionettejones · 3 years

Text

Headcanon: Ojiro has face blindness (Prosopagnosia)

I just think it’s an interesting concept so I’ll write down some of my thoughts and some canon convergence.

He's not entirely struggling since almost every active character in bnha is unique.

He relies on voice, hair, body shape, body language, clothes, etc. to recognize individuals.

Might be jumpy at first when someone recently acquainted tries to talk to him. He'd greet back and smile just to give himself time to deduce from what he remembers. He'd wonder who this 'stranger' is then categorize if it's worth memorizing their features. People will just think he's polite.

Actually had to be more polite because he realizes that pausing awkwardly to recognize someone or asking who they are makes people think he’s a snob and usually ignore him thereafter.

Having to recognize an individual when they are in hero costume vs school uniform vs casual is a daunting task, but he manages by recognizing voices and quirks.

He’s the first one to notice a change in someone’s costume coz it doesn’t feel like that person. He forces himself to associate new things to his existing memories of said individual.

Probably a reason to be avoided or bullied earlier in life, making him naive in some aspects. (Probably never got porn shown to him or allowed to join "those" kinds of conversations in middle school. He doesn’t get lewd jokes.)

His martial arts training focuses more on looking at the body and anticipating movement. He uses that to differentiate people most times.

Is afraid to tell people he has this disorder.

Long post ~

Midoriya: med to low recognition

Broccoli

That mumbling kid with the big red shoes that don't seem to wear out. Kinda jealous of his footwear.

Weird t-shirts

Keeps upgrading costumes!!!

If he’s in a stretcher with broken bones after something bad happens, it’s him.

before: Danger! Do not approach. later: an ok friend with fancy stuff coming out of his fingers. Scary, but most protect coz friend.

Kaminari: medium

Zigzag streak of black lightning on bright yellow hair

That blond dude behind him that plays with his tail too often.

Both fearless and a bit stupid, but a very fun guy to have around.

Kirishima: low

Spiky red hair with shark teeth. Sidon but rockfish (says Kaminari. Doesn't actually know who that is coz he doesn’t have games. Doesn’t get how they are similar coz Sidon has a tail on his head)

Kirishima without hair gel! : Ojiro being weary, tail twitching, till anyone of the bakusquad calls his name.

Has a twin but silver

Has absolutely no idea who he is when his black hair grows out. Excuses himself for going into the wrong room to borrow dumbbells. Comes back and realizes he went into the right room but doesn’t recognize Kirishima.

Confuses Kirishima sometimes but Ojiro doesn’t want to talk about it.

Ashido: high

very pink (that’s about it)

Would love to learn how to break dance from her.

Hagakure: high

Invisible! (invisible, not naked. end of discussion, brain!)

He's hyper aware of her at first mostly because she doesn't have a head to even focus on. But he knows there is a face nonetheless so he sees a general graph of where the features should be.

Seems to always know where her eyes are.

Feels relief because he does not need to analyze minute changes on the face that indicate mood. Tooru makes it easier for people to read by making big movements and tones of voice.

Ojiro suspects that she’s just acting cheerful.

Feels not as calm now that she keeps teasing him. (might have actually kissed him-- Team Up Mission chapter 6)

hc fic: Recognizes her gestures and school bag when she got hit by a quirk nullifying bullet. Is not affected by how beautiful she is. (Horikoshi says that she’s the most beautiful girl there if she were visible.)

Confuses him when she wears a mask

Everyone is equally beautiful. charot!

Would like it more if she stays invisible.

Fukidashi Manga: med

Doesn’t understand, and he thought it would be as easy as Hagakure.

Sometimes, he thinks he’s going crazy coz the manga pages are starting to talk to him. Later realizes that he is alone in his room, and it’s 3am.

Sometimes gets pulled into Tooru’s pranks. Talking to an emoji feels better than he thought.

Shinsou: med to high

That purple haired guy who brainwashed him.

Gets irritated by seeing purple for some time till he realizes that isn’t logical and just stresses him out.

Not Mineta, but should avoid nonetheless.

Joint Training Battle: “ACK!” AAAAAAAAAHHHH! (Sports festival/war flashbacks Ah shit! Here we go again) “SHINSO!”

He finally apologizes so I guess it’s ok. Admits that his quirk is actually powerful. (BNHA Official Character Book Ultra Archive)

hc: Still somewhat recognizes him even with the voice changer and different hair style coz of that specific shade of purple. (it really hit him hard)

Would buy him gifts with the same color.

Mineta: high

Grapes. Violet, not purple. small person.

They all seem to rely on Ojiro to watch over him.

Should have hit him when he tried something in Hagakure’s room but Sero was quicker.

Is actually ok when he’s not perving out

Sero: medum

Office supplies Spider man

Weird elbows

Loves napping in his hammock.

Would have to take a while to recognize him if he ever changes his hairstyle

Bakugou: med to high

Explosive person overall, even his hair!

King of corny nicknames

Same with Mineta but watching over him for different reasons.

Great sparring partner. Good practice for drowning out voices coz he cusses a lot at the beginning of sessions. Gets quiet once he gets serious.

Had to stare at him for some time when he got a hair cut. Immediately recognizes him once he talks.

Todoroki: high

Ice cone with chili sauce on one side

Very expensive clothes

Ojiro realizes he holds grudges coz he easily recognizes him and Shinsou

Tokoyami: med to high

Has no problem differentiating birds

on second thought~ Oh right, the other one doesn't have a body

Shoji: high

hard to mistake anyone with that many arms

Looks like a Hindu god when doing meditation

Sato: med

Sometimes forgets that he isn’t part of the staff when in costume. Mistakes him for Vlad-sense sometimes.

Sometimes calls Vlad, Sato-san.

Aizawa: med to high

Sometimes a caterpillar, sometimes an old rag

Didn’t recognize him on tv when he shaved and had his hair up

#ojiro mashirao #ojiro headcanons #bnha headcanons #bnha students #mjfic #mha #mha headcanons

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petri808 · 4 years

Text

A Sun-Kissed Getaway

My artist partner @reishichi beautiful companion piece to my story. Rei was awesome to work with, sweet, go check out her art!!! 💜💜 This was for the @todomomo-mini-bang-2020

The scent of the salty ocean air held hints of life and notes of esoteric mysteries swirling through the breezes that wrapped along the sun-kissed beach they stood on. He couldn’t have picked a more perfect spot to bring his wife Momo to. Secluded and peaceful compared to the hectic city world they lived in. The skies were radiant with different shades of blue as far as the eye could see and embraced at the horizon into the covetous waters like a lover returning home.

But as beautiful as this landscape was, it didn’t hold a flame in his heart like the gorgeous woman before him. Her dark raven tresses float behind her in gentle wisps and flurries, only tamed in part by the loose clip that binds it up. He watches her pause and bend down to pick up a shell, turning it in her hand before placing it back where she’d found it. Always the curious bookworm, cultured and mindful of her surroundings. She turns her attention to the ocean and closes her eyes.

He smiles at her upturned expression as she soaks in this entrancing milieu. It was one he could understand and appreciate too.

Their work as heroes was a daunting task at times. Not just physically taxing but emotionally draining when you’re dealing with the dregs of society. Villains and the victims left in their wake. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if these degenerates could just stick to battling with the law rather than dragging innocents into the mix. But he digresses. This was not the time to brood upon the negatives of their chosen professions.

“Shouto,” a soft melody crosses his hearing, and he shifts his focus to its source. He sees her outstretched hand, beckoning him to her.

He smiles once more and closes the gap between them, taking hold and entwining his fingers with hers. She squeezes and runs her thumb soothingly over the skin, wiping away the dissolution as if it’d never taken place. This is why he loved her so much. With just a tender touch, she could send away the weary and brighten his world anew. He lifts her hand and places a chaste kiss to its back. “Shall we,” he questions, gesturing to the stretch of coastline. She smiles with a light blush filtering onto her cheeks and nods in agreement.

They walk along the beach hand in hand in mellow conversation. The warm white sand speckled with various shades from corals of long ago cushion each step they take. It was nice, like a massage for their bare feet, and he appreciated that nature was kind enough not to burn today. No other souls were around to disturb them, except for the occasional call of a seabird or the skittering of a hermit crab. Just the tranquil roil of the waves ebbing and flowing against the sand or the shifting leaves of the trees that dot the edge of the shoreline.

It takes about an hour for them to make it to the end of the beach where a sheer cliff face rises up an unknown amount of stories and blocks their way. This beach was carved from a valley and only accessible with four-wheel drive. Of course, for those with a quirk like he had, travel to a remote location wasn’t so much of an issue. But to make it a day when they could forget about their quirks and just be normal for once, he’d borrowed a friend’s truck to get through the forest trail.

With no reason to hurry, they simply turn around and enjoy the stretch of paradise, making their way back to their little camp for the day. It was almost lunchtime and his wife had prepared bento meals for them to fuel their day off. Along with an oversized blanket and small cooler with drinks, it was the perfect set up for a relaxing picnic by the sea.

How unexpected, he mused as she produced a kitchen knife and began cutting into a small watermelon. It was the perfect refreshing treat for this warm summer day. He makes her a small table of ice to cut the fruit on and lay the pieces out to chill. “Lunch was delicious Momo, thank you,” he kisses her cheek as she finishes chopping.

She blushes lightly in a smile, “you’re welcome Shouto.”

He was a lucky man that his wife was such an amazing cook. Cooking was one skill that he could never master no matter how many times his sister Fuyumi tried to teach him. But he’s always been just a simple man, nothing fancy required, and content with a cold plate of soba. His wife was a different story. Raised to be the perfect balance of elegance and sophistication, used to the finer things in life, yet never pretentious or snobby.

Though they’d come from the upper echelon of society, their families couldn’t have been more different from one another. It was strange to him at first. She was so settled and worldly compared to him, a top-ranked student and yet adorably self-conscious. While he came from a broken home life, an overbearing father, while still managing to develop his own identity. But he digresses. They did have one thing in common. He leans back on the blanket and closes his eyes to the memory.

All through high school they’d been completely clueless, and it wasn’t until after graduation, with the help of their friends pointing out the blaring reality of their feelings for one another.

“What are you smiling about?”

Her voice pulls him back. “Just you,” he takes the piece of watermelon she holds out to him, “and how happy you make me.”

“Aww,” she giggles and hides her smile behind her hand, “you make me happy too.”

Even after all these years he could make her blush with the simplest of compliments. Her bright smile and the twinkle in her eye whenever she laughed or giggled always made his heart flutter wildly despite the stoic expression on his face. She’s the only woman who could pull these emotions from him. Others had tried and failed in the past, and maybe it was with that realization that he was finally able to process their friend’s words all those ages ago. ‘You love her…’

‘Yes, I do…’ It was because of her kind encouragement that he was truly able to forgive his father for all the man had done to their family. Her support gave him strength and her love gave him fuel to be the best hero he could be.

He feels a weight on his shoulder. It was Momo resting her head against it while she nibbles on a piece of watermelon and stares out over the ocean. He kisses her temple and wraps his arm around her, leaning his head against hers. This would make a for a perfect picture, but he couldn’t bring himself to spoil the moment by pulling out his phone. That was okay, such memories will always live on within them.

A light sigh and a shift by his wife to further wrap her arms around his mid-section. She was so content it was a shame that they would have to leave this beach soon. One didn’t need a watch to know the time, as the sun slowly made its trek across the sky towards the horizon, and the shadows from the tree line washed over their picnic spot. He of all people understood the power of the elements, yet in that moment, even the roar of the waves was but a peaceful undertone to relax away all the painful toils of their lives and send them away to the depths of the sea.

“So beautiful,” the words wisp out from Momo’s lips as she stared at the sunset.

How often do they ever get to enjoy this natural phenomenon, and today seemed even more spectacular than he remembered? The reddish orange ball of fire sent colored heat waves stretching out along the horizon, like a distorted image on a television screen, and darkening the further it settled below the sea blue threshold. But above it, the colors blended wildly with the sky to produce brilliant purple and blue hues broken up between the spattering of pink orange clouds travelling across the heavens.

“It’s time to go,” he kisses his wife and gives her arm a gentle squeeze.

“I know,” she sighs.

“We’ll come back again. I promise.”

She smiles, “thank you for today Shouto, I really needed this.”

He leans his forehead to hers and closes his eyes, cradling the back of her head. There was nothing he wouldn’t do for her. She was everything to him. “No. I’m the one who’s thankful,” he leans in and places a lingering kiss on her lips. “You make me the happiest man in the world.”

“I love you Shouto.”

“I love you too Momo.”

And as they make their way over to the car, he wraps his arm around her shoulder to guide her, taking one last look at the expanse of sand and sea. Growing up, he’d never expected to be as happy as he was with moments like this one. Nevertheless, just like that setting sun, old childhood wounds dissolve away into the abyss, leaving just the starry skies that blink of possibilities. There may not be any photographic chronicles of their adventure today, but the memories will forever be ingrained in their hearts and the love of a woman who helped him get here.

❤️🤍❤️🤍❤️🤍❤️🤍❤️🤍❤️🤍❤️🤍❤️🤍🥳🥳 Bonus Birthday add on: @reishichi Happy Birthday!

As he lay there in the early morning hours, the sun’s rays were just barely peeking through the sheer curtains. Shouto smiles as he gazes lovingly over his wife’s face imagining how lucky he was to have her in his life. It had been a few weeks since their little beach outing, and oh how he wished they’d had more time for such moments. To relax and pretend all the cares of the world had disappeared. If he could spin their world into a perfect utopia for her, he would do it in a heartbeat.

He gently brushes away the stray ebony hairs that have drifted over her face, careful not to wake her. Momo’s shift the evening prior had been a long one, and he wanted to let her sleep in as long as possible. She looked so peaceful lightly curled against his side, trusting of his protection. Her porcelain skin coming alive with the light of the sun.

There was only one thing he could think of to make their lives better than it already was, but it was something that brought trepidation and fears along with the excitement and bliss. He was afraid to bring up the topic of starting a family. Was he ready, were they ready? Oh, who was he kidding, Momo would be an excellent mother. It was he and his poor childhood that caused him the greater pause.

She would probably tell him the opposite, Shouto you’ll be an amazing father… he chuckles in his head as he remembers the long-ago recertification exam. As the baby of the family, he had no experience dealing with children. They were like strange creatures to him that he couldn’t understand. Some people take to parenting naturally, but he just knew that wouldn’t be him. And yet despite those concerns, the desire to have a child with Momo outweighed those fears.

Imagine it… going back to that beach with a little one in tow. Watching him or her scurry after crabs or chasing the waves as they ebb and flow along the sand. Building sandcastles and napping under the sun after a yummy lunch prepared by his wife. A picture of pure bliss that he would love and cherish and give the child all the love he never received growing up with his own father. Bet his siblings would be thrilled to be an aunt and uncle.

When the time feels right, he’ll broach the question. He kisses Momo’s forehead and rests his chin amongst her tresses, closing his eyes with a smile. Sleep my love, as we dream of a sun-kissed future.

#todomomo #todomomo fan fiction #todomomo fan art #bnha #todomomo mini bang 2020 #todoroki shouto #yaoyorozu momo #shouto todoroki #momo yaoyorozu #todomomo fan fic #aged up #married #beach #picnic #landscape scene #petri808 #petris chronicles

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avehi-the-adamant · 3 years

Text

The Chosen Champion

[[ Co-written with @kidcatgemini / @kaiekasunwhisper. ]]

Acclimating to Maldraxxian life was easy. Scary easy. It wasn’t a scene Avehi ever thought she’d feel so accustomed to, but here she was; working with the Necrolords to unite Maldraxxus again for the good of the Shadowlands. A realm like this, dedicated to protecting all other realms beyond the veil, couldn’t do so divided. Avehi had worked hard to that end, making great progress with the House of Rituals during an ongoing entanglement with Revendreth. She’d leave for that realm soon enough, but not until this mysterious Champion of the House of the Chosen Melosh had told her about was dealt with.

She scowled at the thought; who from Azeroth would support the enemies of unity, rather than fight against them? It infuriated her that someone from her world - another Death Knight, no less - would voluntarily be so detrimental to the already-daunting task that lay before them. But that’d be set straight soon enough.

Epitaph made for the Theatre of Pain with haste; they served Avehi well on Azeroth, and just as well here beyond the veil. Such were the benefits of a spectral steed, she supposed. The familiarity was a boon in this strange and unsettling land. Which… wasn’t all too unsettling, as she looked around. Gruesome and savage, but… familiar, somehow. She couldn’t explain it, but she felt she belonged here.

Was this where her soul would’ve ended up, if her death were permanent?

Finding the answer to that question would have to come at a later time. Epitaph came to a stop at the entrance to the Theatre-- the cheering and clattering of bone and steel filling the air around her. She dismounted, sending her steed to vanish once more into nothingness, before stepping inside.

~*~

Blood gushed out into the Champion’s face as a hooked blade tore through her opponent’s neck, slicing open the artery. She kept her momentum going, spinning around completely as the challenger grasped at the fatal wound, pathetically trying to stop the bleed. Not that they’d have time to bleed to death. Both of the Champions blades came in horizontally now. The first hit cut through the midsection, while the second cleaved the upper half of the body clean off with a sickening crack!

Kai’eka grinned. She couldn’t have wished for a better time in the afterlife than this! Winning her benefactors the anima they needed time and time again to help mend the Shadowlands? Oh, how she loved when violence was the answer to everything.

She harnessed her blade, before slamming a plated boot into the dead body’s neck, coating it in ice. The warrior then reached down, grabbed the head by the hair and, with unholy strength, broke the head off and held it up into the air in victory.

The crowd went wild!

“KAI! KAI! KAI!”

The Draenei’s brow raised as she wove through the crowd. It couldn’t be… could it? As the chanting grew more and more feverish and excited, Avehi hastened to get a better look. She began to push, knocking patrons aside or pulling them back to give way as she slipped between them. She was… stunned… when she finally laid eyes on the champion in the center of the ring. Yep-- it was Kai’eka alright. She wasn’t entirely sure if she should be amazed, disappointed, or proud of the fellow Death Knight she’d raised. Regardless, she wasn’t surprised.

“The Indomitable Champion of the House of Chosen claims another hapless victim!”

Announced the Grandmaster, feeding the crowd’s frenzied excitement.

“Is there none who can stop this master of disaster? This whirl of blades? Who dares to challenge Kai’eka the Butcher?”

‘Tch…’ For a moment, Avehi forgot this was why she’d come. The traitorous House of the Chosen had recruited Kai’eka, it seemed. Surely she simply didn’t know the true intention of her newfound allies. Kai’eka had to be set straight. But in an environment like this, she was unapproachable in all but one manner. Avehi contemplated simply waiting until the day’s fighting was over. And yet her body continued to move as it had been, cutting through the crowd to get to the stairs.

“I do!” she declared, unabashed.

The crowd’s eye turned from Kai’eka to the challenger as she descended the bloodied and fractured stairs leading into the heart of the amphitheatre. Free from the tightly-packed mess of spectators, Avehi was free to draw her hammer as she focused her gaze on Kai’eka. A smirk tugged at the corner of her lips, the memory of the first time she’d faced this unusually muscular elf crossing her mind. Kai’eka had only grown stronger since then, in undeath.

This would be fun.

The warrior tossed the head aside and turned to face the new challenger. She was surprised to see Avehi, though the only indication of such was a raised eyebrow. A grin tugged at the corner of her lips, though.

Avehi had been the one to kill her, and raise her. Kai’eka knew how strong the Draenei was, and wouldn’t underestimate her again. The thought of facing her again in battle was an exciting one. A test to see how far she’d come in her training as an Ebon Knight.

Kicking the top half of the fresh corpse aside, she made her way to the centre of the ring to meet her opponent.

“Didn’t know you were in Maldraxxus too. Surprised the Chosen haven’t recruited you as well,” she spoke simply, honestly.

Though, the more she thought about it, the more she realized she never really spent much time outside the Theatre.

"Kai'eka." Avehi nodded, stopping short of the elf in the center of the arena. "Is this the start of a trend? Or have you always been so careless to whom you pledge your allegiances?"

She slung her hammer up over her shoulder, loosely counter-weighing the glowing crystalline head by draping her forearm over the hilt. Her lichfire eyes flared, the neurotic energy welling up within her. As it always did before a fight. There wasn't a choice here; even if she could talk Kai'eka back from her error in judgement, the Maldraxxi were here to see a fight! The notion immediately reinforced as the Grandmaster's booming voice filled the stadium once again.

"How exciting! These two tiny titans know one another from distant mortal planes! Reunited here, in the crucible of destruction and glory! I couldn't have arranged a better matchup, myself!"

The chanting reached a fevered pitch, as the various denizens shouted and roar with excitement! Clearly Kai'eka had impressed them greatly; what would another like her be like as her opponent?

The warrior raised an eyebrow. Avehi’s words piqued her interest.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

The question was asked, but it was time to fight. The crowd would most likely get upset if all they did was talk. A blade in each hand, Kai’eka shifted her stance, and charged at the Draenei.

“I win fights, they get anima to help protect the Shadowlands,” she informed Avehi as she swung her blades at the Draenei’s knees, “It’s not complicated.”

Avehi leapt back, playing it safe for now as the two conversed. Shrugging her hammer from her shoulder, she took a ready stance and frowned.

"You're under the misconception that the House of the Chosen are protecting the Shadowlands!" she replied, as Rokaa's crystalline head began to swirl with neurotic energy. "Margrave Krexus is dead. And Vyraz killed him!"

Before letting Kai'eka reply, Avehi thrust her hammer forward, sending a death coil at her! It moved quickly, aimed squarely for the center of the elf's chest!

Kai’eka didn’t try to dodge the blast, but instead brought her large sword up to intercept it. The runes on the weapon glowed as it absorbed the necrotic energy, before the warrior swung it and deployed it back towards Avehi, her other blade following up with a horizontal strike for the Draenei’s midsection.

“What the fuck’s a Margrave?!”

Seriously? Avehi was less shocked as her death coil was returned-- able to lean out of its trajectory without much trouble. But Kai’eka couldn’t be so… clueless, could she? She was starting to think Kai’eka joined the Twilight Cult by accident! The House of the Chosen were at least former allies. But is that as far into it as she read? No question as to who led the House? Sloppy and foolish. Something she’d expect of Raetos, certainly-- but not Kai’eka!

Momentarily baffled by the show of overall situational unawareness, the elf’s follow-up strike landed! For being so poorly informed, she still fought well; Therein was the problem, after all! Her strength needed to be properly implemented, not wasted here working for the enemy!

Avehi hissed, powering through the sudden pain as the runeblade sliced into her armor to retaliate immediately. She thrust the head of her hammer out to bash Kai’eka’s face!

“Fool! I’m telling you that you’re on the wrong side! Again!”

“Since wh—“

Kai’eka barely managed to lean back on time to avoid a broken nose.

“Son of a bitch…”

She continued with the momentum, jumping up to kick Avehi in the jaw as she performed a backflip and landed on her feet. Immediately, she took on a defensive position.

“Since when?!” She growled, “That Baroness chick, Draka, she led me to them herself. I’ve been doing all the fighting for them here ever since! Where the fuck have you been?!”

Avehi snarled, bringing her gauntlet to her mouth. She eyed a bit of blood her fingers had connected from her lips; courtesy of Kai’eka’s parting kick. Her grip about her hammer tensed.

“If you had peeked your head out of this arena every once in a while, you would’ve seen what I’m talking about!” she scolded the elf! “The other Baron, Vyraz, killed the Chosen’s leader in a power grab! He’s in league with the Jailer, you idiot!”

She rushed at Kai’eka, before jumping up into the air. She spun, bringing her hammer up from behind her-- at the same time, reaching out for Kai’eka with a deathgrip. But rather than rip the elf towards her, the shadows coiled around the elf’s boot to pull and trip her down into a vulnerable position for the blow to land!

“Why would—“

Kai braced herself for the grip, but not for where it was aimed. She cursed as her foot was yanked and she lost her balance, but her quick reflexes saved her from the blow as she rolled to her right.

“Fuck! Why would I leave the arena?!”

She growled, literally throwing one of her large blades at Avehi as she continued the rolling momentum and got to a crouching position.

“All I need to do here is rest, train and fight! I’m perfect for this! You should see all the anima I’ve won!”

It was the last thing she expected Kai’eka to do; mostly, because it was foolish! While the blow landed as intended-- cutting into Avehi’s shoulder-- throwing one’s weapon was a desperation tactic. Ill advised for anyone, especially a Death Knight. As the Draenei staggered back from the force of the blow, she picked up the tossed blade and stared Kai’eka down. Her hand tensed around the hilt of the broadsword as its tip dug into the ground at her feet. The other tightened around the grip of her hammer. It seemed there were two lessons she’d have to teach her, today.

“Are you truly so short-sighted? I’m not arguing that you’re earning anima here.” she snarled. “But you’re doing it for the enemy!”

She brought her hammer up, and swung down hard onto the blade. It cracked… then shattered from the impact in front of the Draenei!

Kai’eka’s eyes grew wide as she realized her mistake, too late. In life, throwing her swords had worked exceptionally well as a surprise attack. She’d forgotten, however, how important a rune blade was to a Death Knight.

She took a few steps, hand outreached as the weapon shattered. The effects were felt immediately. She cried out, falling to her knees as pain coursed through her system. The pain was followed by what she could only describe as ‘void’. Part of her had been torn away as her runeblade was destroyed. Her hand tightened on the hilt of her remaining weapon as her body trembled under the shock of what had just happened.

“F-fucking bitch…” she growled, but was otherwise too weak to continue.

The crowd went silent.

Avehi cast the hilt of the blade down, freeing her hand to grip her shoulder. Violet blood oozed from her arm, the perforation in her armor cutting clean and deep. It wasn’t all her blood anymore, but still retained its bluish hue just the same. Slowly, her hemomancy set to mending the gash as she stepped towards Kai’eka.

The silence was deafening in a place like this. Thankfully it didn’t last long, replaced soon with hushed murmurs and whispers from confused and anxious fans. Avehi didn’t want to do that to Kai’eka. She knew the pain of a shattered blade all too well-- it was a pain she’d inflicted upon herself once, in misguided desperation. Both then and now were lessons, at least. She stood over Kai’eka frowning in disappointment.

“I know you’re smarter than this, Kai. And if you weren’t before… you are now.” she berated the elf. “You’re here to help-- not to be another problem I have to deal with. You want to fight in the arena? Fine. You want to earn anima? Great. Just have the cognizance to know who you’re really fighting for. Understand?”

With that, she pulled her hand from her wound, and extended it out for Kai’eka in an offer to help her back up.

Kai’eka glared up as Avehi spoke, teeth clenched as she struggled against the aftershocks of losing her blade. Thankfully, she had two, and she didn’t even want to think about how horrible it would have been if that had been her only one.

To say she was angry and frustrated would be an understatement. Not necessarily towards Avehi, but towards herself. She’d made a horrible mistake in dedicating her entire life to the Twilight Cult, and she’d just found out she’d been doing the same since her arrival in the Shadowlands. Twice now, she’d fought for what she thought was the right cause, only for Avehi to keep coming in to correct her.

She hated it. Hated being wrong. Hated that she couldn’t trust herself to know the good guys from the bad.

Of course… admitting all of that out loud wasn’t about to happen. Having been beaten in battle was bad enough.

Her hand reached out to grab Avehi’s. The woman who had raised her seemed to have a full picture of things.

“Fine,” she growled, the closest she would get to admitting she was wrong, “Then point me in the direction of whoever’s ass I need to kick.”

Once she tugged Kai’eka up out of the dirt, she placed her hand over her arm once more to sustain the healing. She nodded, relaxing a bit, and offering the elf a more amicable expression. Not quite a smile, but… hints of one.

“Still plenty of asses to kick here in the arena. But make it clear you’re not fighting for the Chosen anymore.” she replied, motioning to the crowd-- still murmuring and whispering in confusion. “Your anima winnings should go to support restoring order to the Shadowlands. You fight for the unity of Maldraxxus. You fight for the Undying Army!”

“The Undying Army,” Kai’eka repeated the name before giving a firm nod, “Well, sign me the fuck up.”

#character story #co-writing #kidcatgemini #Avehi the Adamant #Kai'eka Sunwhisper #Warcraft #Shadowlands #Maldraxxus

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thegoodprincess · 3 years

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Together We Are Apart, but Apart We Are Together | KTH Ch. 3

Author: thegoodprincess

Pairing: Kim Taehyung | Original Female Character

Genre: romance, fantasy, action, forbidden love, human KTH | angel of death OC, supernatural au

Word Count: 1.7k [series, ongoing]

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Mentions of blood

Summary: After admiring a handsome boy from afar, an Angel of Death reluctantly rescues him from his own demise. As a result of going against her better judgment she inadvertently invites him into her world.

Author’s note: A character named Malachi appears in this chapter. His dialogue is italicized for the purpose of demonstrating that he has the ability to telepathically communicate with the main female OC. Just thought I’d point that out. 😉

Together We Are Apart, but Apart We Are Together

Chapter 3. Rescue

'Cause all I need is the love you breathe. Put your lips on me and I can live. — Mika

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In an instant I was completely submerged with a few feet of water above my head. I was met with the piercing feeling of the water right away. It was so severely cold that I was sent into a brief state of shock from the almost unbearable pain. Every muscle in my body simultaneously tensed, my throat felt as though I was being asphyxiated, and my eyes burned.

As ironic as it sounds, I took a few moments to ground myself. I tried as best I could to endure being suspended in the water. All four of my other senses were completely numbed out, forcing me to feel the full extent of the water.

Willing myself to focus on something else, literally anything that would momentarily distract me from the pain that had activated my fight or flight response, was when I noticed how eerily silent it was underwater. It was so much more strikingly different than it was on land.

The silence above the surface felt like being alone; blissful, refreshing, and introspective. But underneath the water it was lonely; pressurized, desolate, and suffocating.

Being beneath the darkness of the ice only amplified the absence of sound. This in turn made it seem as though the frantic thoughts in my head were the only thing I heard; they were deafening.

Once the initial shock wore off, I identified the pain as being equivalent to repeatedly being stabbed by a million extremely sharp blades all at once. The pain only intensified as I moved through the water. Every stroke of my arms and kick of my legs transformed each penetrating stab into an agonizing slice that tore deep along my skin from what felt like the inside out. Although I could not die, the sensation was excruciating as it traveled through every nerve ending of my body. I couldn’t imagine what it felt like for him.

Fighting through my discomfort, I adjusted my eyes in the dark water so that I could search for him. I spotted him slowing sinking further and further down, making no effort to swim. His eyes were closed and his face was serene as if he were sleeping. The water surrounding him was tinted scarlet from the blood oozing out his wound. It was safe to assume that he blacked out on impact from shock. If I didn’t get to him quickly enough, he was going to drown.

Using all the force I could muster I aggressively swam to him and was able to grab ahold of his wrist. After tugging him towards me, I did the only thing I could think of that would save his life. I kissed him, giving him my breath. Upon my lips meeting his, a blindingly bright light was emitted and my wings came around him engulfing him in a bubble of my aura. I closed my eyes and we ascended upwards near the surface of the water. Both of our heads broke to the surface. I took a big gulp of air, but he remained unconscious. Tucking my arms under his and gripping him tightly to keep his head above water, I swam to the edge of the river. Once I reached the edge I hauled the both of us up out of the water.

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I dragged his limp body back to the cold pavement. I tried as best I could to find an area that wasn’t coated in a copious amount of snow and gently laid him down on his back. In an instant my lips were back on his to breathe life back into him. I then pressed his chest to push out any water that he may have swallowed into his lungs. Immediately he began coughing up water, sputtering out between choked breaths. He was just barely conscious. His eyes flicked rapidly beneath his heavy eyelids. He barely managed to open them after I gently slapped at his face, but he only looked at me with a glassy stare. He wasn’t fully aware of what was going on or of my presence. His body was only instinctually taking in oxygen to fight for survival.

Taking a moment to assess his state, it was the first time I was able to fully take in his appearance. His skin was pale white, it almost looked translucent. His lips were already tinged blue and ice was beginning to form on his eyelashes. His hair was completely drenched and sticking in clumps to his face and scalp. I moved his bangs off his forehead.

He was shivering. I placed my hand on his cheek. His skin was ice cold to the touch. The water had gone through every fiber of his clothes despite the layers, throughly soaking his body down to the bone. The air around him only intensified the heat loss, bitting viscously at him. He was softly moaning and whining in pain.

It was then that I noticed the snow that was near his shoulder was beginning to stain crimson. Anxiously I brought my hands from where his collarbones were up to my face. The opaque ruby fluid clung to my skin thickly coating my fingers. His clothes were not only soaked with freezing cold water but an excessive amount of his blood. The wound was bleeding at a rapid rate now.

The odds of him surviving were stacked highly against him. Even though I had saved him from drowning, my efforts were going to be in vain. If I didn’t act soon he would imminently die in my arms from either hemorrhaging or hypothermia.

Taking two fingers I palpated his neck to check his pulse. It was sluggish, indicating his health was rapidly declining. His breathing was slow and labored. He was beginning to slip in and out of consciousness.

I used up a lot of my aura already saving him under the water, but had enough to temporarily mend the wound. However, it came with a catch. On the condition that I did heal him, it would result in me not having enough energy to teleport us back to my home where I could finish reviving him. Going on foot would take too long as it would surely run the risk of him dying before we even reached half way there. And on the off chance he did survive the journey, I’d first have to restore my own spirit before I could properly attend to him. Time was of the essence.

Weighing my options I decided to tackle one task at a time, that being to heal his wound, then worry about effectively warming him up after. Placing the palm of my hand gently against his shoulder, I closed my eyes concentrating, willing the golden light energy to flow out of me and into him. In my mind I could see the threads of his being fixing themselves, my aura weaving together the broken pieces. Thankfully his bleeding stopped, but he was still shivering. I felt weaker but it was important that I stay focused. Now I needed to call for help.

“Malachi!!!” I screamed using a little more of my aura to reach out to him, summoning his aid.

Suddenly the shadows that surrounded us quickly came together rising up from the ground and morphed into an intimidating silhouette that towered over us. Before us stood a figure shrouded in what could only be described as the shadows of darkness. They wore a oversized hood that covered a majority of their face. Using their blacken fingers, they removed the garment allowing me a clear look at their face. A boy’s daunting face was revealed.

He had ashen skin that looked as though he rubbed soot into it. Despite the gray coloring of his skin his face was handsome with sharp angular features like his nose, cheekbones, and jawline. All made him appear traditionally masculine. His chin-length hair was straight and the color of the midnight sky missing the glimmer of the moonlight. It fell haphazardly over one of his pale gray eyes, one of his only “light” features. Long billowy black silk robes cascaded down his lean frame further cloaking him in the shadows. Some may have easily mistaken him for the grim reaper, but he wasn’t such a being. He looked at us bemusedly stunned trying to assess the situation. Pity swam in his usually aloof abalone irises. His eyes nervously moved between the two of us as I laid embracing the mysterious boy’s body.

“Please Malachi, I don’t have enough energy. You have to get us home so I can help him. Hurry, he’s dying,” I yelled panicking.

Malachi looked at me confused. His hauntingly beautiful voice echoed in my head. “Mistress you are not allowed to get involved in human ordeals such as their death. It is against our nature.” He cautioned, but his warning was laced faintly with sympathy.

“I know but he wasn’t supposed to die tonight. Death was meant for another. He just so happened to get involved,” I defended hastily. The longer we spent discussing the events that unfolded tonight, the more this boy’s life force ebbed further away.

“Then that is his doing, we must not concern ourselves—,” Malachi argued coldly before I abruptly cut him off.

“Malachi! I beg you. Please.” I groveled in distress at his feet. I don’t know what convinced Malachi. It may have been the way my voice had cracked at the end of my plea, the continuous tears that brimmed over my eyes obscuring my vision and left trails down my cheeks, or how my body curled in anguish as I desperately clung to the boy in my arms, but he reluctantly succumbed.

“Fine. But if there are to be repercussions, you are to take responsibility,” Malachi negotiated bluntly, void of almost all emotion. Wearing a somber expression he knelt down, encircling us both in his arms. The shadows that had previously flowed around him had stretched out towards us. Swiftly they began to envelop us, shielding us from the scene of the river before us. With that we were transported home.

#taehyung fanfiction #taehyung fanfic #kim taehyung #taehyung x oc #bts supernatural au #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts army #taehyung #my writing

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nev3rfound · 5 years

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waiting to unpause : s.r

brief summary: everyone has a soul mate. some just take a bit longer to find theirs than most.

word count: 1.9k requested: nope, just another idea I had in work lmao warnings: mention of blood, some swearing.

* masterlistin’

* commissions

Even before everything in his life changed, Steve knew of soulmates. He witnessed people he grew up with walking hand in hand with theirs whilst he trailed behind Bucky. He would watch Bucky go from one girl to the next, claiming each of them was potentially the one. Steve knew none of them ever were but went along with it for Bucky’s sake.

Part of him always wished he would find his. He knew the signs of a soul mate. You would feel their pain. You could see what had hurt them, a mark, a cut or a bruise would appear on your body. The slightest of injuries would occur to most, but never to Steve.

“It’s official, I’m broken, Buck.” Steve would sigh as Bucky walked him to his front door, hanging his arm around his best friends shoulders.

Bucky shook his head whenever Steve tried to deny his chance of happiness. “All you gotta do is find a girl who looks like she’s dying, can’t be too hard.” Bucky joked, trying to catch a smile on Steve’s face. Sometimes it would work, other times the weight of loneliness became too intense and he shrugged it off, shutting his door behind him.

When Steve went to the war and met Peggy, he thought that was it. Inside he wanted it to be her, the loving woman who was so powerful and seemingly fearless. Who wouldn’t want her?

But when he glanced down to see a cut on her wrist, he never felt that happen. He didn’t have a mark across his skin like hers. Steve flicked his skin multiple times and watched redness burn, but as he would glance to Peggy she remained still. There wasn’t anything on her.

Looking ahead as he crossed the ocean he sighed, realising his options. “I’ve got to, Peggy.” Steve spoke with a heavy heart through the radio, unaware of the tears forming in Peggy’s eyes as she sat alongside Howard. “There’s nothing left for me. No family, no friends, no soulmate.” He sighed lightly as he neared the ice. “Take care, Peg.”

Closing his eyes, he hit the ice and felt everything drain. All Steve felt was the cold bury underneath his skin as he drifted off, never to open his eyes again.

When you were born, you were freezing. It didn’t matter what the Doctors did or tried, you couldn’t warm up. Within the first few hours of you being born, you nearly died due to the lack of warmth in your body. Your Mother cried, not understanding why this was happening to you.

If only they knew why.

For the first ten years of your life, you were kept wrapped up. You were forever cold, never able to feel truly warm. The risk of hypothermia was always a constant in your life.

Even in the midst of summer, you remained in layers; a scarf around your neck whilst everyone else wore vest tops and sweated. You wished you weren’t different, you wished you could be normal.

At twenty, you woke up in a hot sweat. You looked around your bedroom in case it was on fire, but there wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. You rushed out of bed and went straight to your bathroom where you saw beads of sweat. Actual beads of sweat running from your hairline. You laughed and you cried as you didn’t shiver for the first time in your entire life.

You called for your parents, none of you understood, but you were relieved to feel warmth at long last. For once, you felt normal.

If only that sense of relief lasted longer than a year.

You would forever wake up with bruises and cuts lining your skin. Whoever your soulmate was, they sure as hell didn’t live an easy life.

Once the marks started, your parents explained to you what it meant. How everyone in the world has someone they can be with. You listened as they tended to the newest wound, a bullet scrape as they wiped away the pain as tears formed in your eyes.

“My soulmate is fucking suicidal aren’t they?” You cried, a laugh escaping your lips mid sob as your parents exchanged a worried glance, fearing to agree with you.

Over the next few years, you grew to hate your soulmate. They were never calm or without some form of injury. Twice you woke up with a black eye causing your friend to jump out of her skin when you walked into the kitchen.

“I’ve had enough.” She sighed loudly before typing something into her phone as you sat with a bag of frozen peas over your eye. “We’re getting tattoos.”

You simply blinked out of your good eye. “A tattoo?” You spoke quietly, watching as she nodded in response.

“Obviously your soul mate can feel the pain, and they’ll get the outline of the tattoo as well. Who knows, pick something unique you’ll find them.” She suggests and you sit, contemplating the idea as you finish breakfast feeling the peas defrosting over your bruised skin.

Leaving the tattoo parlour, you looked down at your upper arm. It was a stem of lavender and a snowflake settling alongside the side. You smiled at the design, pleased as you walked home.

You only managed to get halfway when you saw the news reports. Everyone began to run in all directions as fear ignited in the crowds. “What’s happening?!” You yelled to your friend who gripped your hand tightly as she pulled you inside of a coffee shop.

“It’s happening again, another invasion.” Her voice dripped in fear as her eyes widened at the sights outside. She held you close, feeling your clothes begin to dampen as blood-stained your top and jeans. “Y/n, you’re bleeding.” She stammered, looking down to see you unconscious in her arms.

After the battle of New York, you decided to find somewhere quieter to live. You couldn’t leave the city, it was your home.

You ended up in an old apartment block. It was heavily dated, but the rent was within budget, unlike the majority of places you found. You could get comfortable, despite the chipped paint that you would find flakes of on your floor every day or the neighbour you never met.

One of your neighbours, you met simply by chance. You were walking out, about to go for a drink with an old friend when she caught you off guard. She introduced herself.

“Sorry, I’m Sharon.” She held out her hand, a small scar across her index finger.

You began to notice the small marks more and more. Part of it was paranoia, the other was mere curiosity. “Y/n. And I’m sorry for staring.”

The two of you became close friends. With Sharon’s long disjointed hours, you would find time whenever you could. It became a routine of yours as she mentioned her neighbour, the one you’ve heard across the creaking floorboards but have yet to meet in person.

It was only when there was an intense heatwave in New York that Sharon asked about your soul mate. You couldn’t bear to be kept in layers, so you walked around in your bra and shorts.

You could feel Sharon’s eyes widening as she saw the scars covering your skin. “Gotta blame good ol’ soulmate.” You would joke, knowing humour is the only way to cover the pain of it all.

Sharon sat down with you on the small balcony, designed clearly for a single person alone. You sat and spoke for hours about the reality of having someone out there destined for you.

“I’m at a point where I think it’s bullshit.” You tell her as you sip your drink. “I was born with hypothermia, lived the first twenty years of my life as an icicle and now I’m forever being battered.” You shake your head, glancing over to see something change in Sharon’s expression. “You alright over there?” You ask with a smile.

Sharon snaps out of her realisation with a curt nod. “Yeah, yeah. Just thinking.” She tells you, listening as you carry on but in her head, all she’s thinking is how she can get you and him in the same place at the same time.

It took months for her to get you both to be in at the same time. Sharon learnt neither of you were easy people to pin down. She anticipated it with Steve, but there was still so much of you that remained a mystery.

When her Aunt Peg died, she told her to make sure Steve found his soul mate. It sounded like a daunting task, but finding someone covered in scars from battles they’d never been in couldn't be too hard, right?

“Y/n, you in?” Sharon knocked on your door loudly, knowing Steve would be in, listening to his old music. “Y/n, I really need your help. I’ve been locked out again.” She sighs loudly, hoping to hear his door open.

Just like that, Steve walks out of his apartment. He stands tall, his eyes slightly bloodshot as he forces a small smile. “Hey Sharon, you alright?” He asks as he stands by his door, crossing his arms.

Sharon nods. “Yeah, I got locked out.” She laughs uneasily, continuing to knock on your door. “Y/n has my spare, I hope she’s in.”

Steve doesn’t reply, he stands unsure what do to. “I’ll leave you to it then,” Steve replies and turns around, only stopping when he feels a light pain spread across his right shin.

“-shit sorry!” Your voice sounds loudly through your door, and suddenly Steve isn’t so desperate to go back into his apartment.

Opening your front door, you rub your right shin as you stand in front of Sharon, holding up her key. “What’d you do this time?” She laughs lightly, looking down.

You roll your eyes. “I just tripped over my shoes. Hit my shin once again.” You tell her with a small smile before glancing over her shoulder, seeing a stranger stood to observe. “Hi, I don’t think we’ve met?” You call out, stepping forward toward the broad man.

Hesitating, Steve watches your smile falter as you pass Sharon.

Steve glances to Sharon who nods, giving him an encouraging smile as he steps closer toward you, shaking your hand. He focuses on your face, noticing a scar above your left temple. It’s just a coincidence, it must be.

“I’m Steve.” He introduces himself, his hand still in yours as you nervously laugh before pulling away.

“Y/n.” You reply, stuck in a moment as you stare into his eyes.

Lifting your arm up, you run your fingers through your hair and Steve’s eyes wander to the pastel tattoo on your inner upper arm. He tries to encourage his heart to not plummet, but he’s caught staring by Sharon.

“Anyway, I’ll drop the keys back to you, Y/n?” She calls out, knowing you can’t hear her as you smile to Steve, feeling a sense of comfort cross your body as you stand in front of him.

Closing her front door, Sharon smiles to herself knowing she would’ve made her Aunt Peg proud. She finally helped Steve find his soul mate, and prove there is someone for everyone.

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dadolorian · 4 years

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Just like me - Part 4

A/N: Something sweeter Credits: Thank you @oloreaa for being my Beta reader/editor !

Title: Just Like me Fandom: Prospect (2018) Ship: Ezra/Reader Warning: Mentions of PTSD symptoms Word count: 2K + Master List Request status AO3 Link Previous part Next part - coming soon

Okay, so the couch sucked. It was old, lumpy and you had no idea how Ezra had managed to sleep on it the night before. It was who knows what time in the morning when you gave in, conceding that you probably weren’t going to get any sleep that night. To pass the time you grabbed one of the many books that were strewn around the place, attempting to read by the soft glow of the lamp beside the couch, your heavy eyes protesting, demanding you sleep but you knew there was no way to get comfortable, even with the blankets Ezra had so carefully tucked you in with.

You were all but ready to sleep on the floor as you re-read the same sentence of the book for the fifth time in a row, still failing to understand what it said. You were preparing the blankets, ready to throw them to the ground when a small, muffled noise caught your attention. Closing your eyes and holding your breath to focus in on the noise, you concluded it was coming from the wall right behind the couch. Ezra’s room. It sounded like... soft whimpering, and perhaps you were a little too enamored by him, because your mind immediately conjured up some rather adult images to the sound.

You felt guilty for those thoughts immediately however, not just for thinking of your friend that way, but because a strangled, muffled yell corrected your assumption, reminding you of one of your first, truly personal discussion with your friend. He has nightmares. You quietly, but quickly put your leg on before you even comprehend what you were doing, not wanting to listen to him suffer. You gently padded over to his room, letting yourself in silently. You couldn’t see him too well in the dark, a small amount of street light let in through the blinds only allowing you to see enough detail to make out his outline in the darkness. He was tossing and turning, panting heavily in his sleep and mumbling incoherent thoughts, but because of his frantic tone you couldn’t make any of them out. Every now and then he let out a desperate whimper or startled yelp, it broke your heart to listen to it. You could only imagine what he was seeing in his dreams. You were sitting on the edge of his bed before you even thought of a plan as to how to help him, you knew better than to wake him, and while you didn’t believe the myth that waking someone from a nightmare could kill them, you did know it could be equally as startling. But you just couldn’t bear to listen to him suffer. You reached across him and took his hand from where it lay on his chest, gently caressing his knuckles. Brushing the hair from his face with your other hand, you smoothed the hair from his forehead, not bothered by how he was sweaty to the touch. His thrashing stopped at your touch, but the poor man was still whimpering and calling for help in his sleep. All you could think to do was shush him and comfort him with words. “Sshhhh, Ezra, it’s okay, you’re safe, I'm here,” you repeated in a whisper, the hand you were holding tightened for a moment, before his frantic mumbles and whimpered slowly died down. You weren’t sure how long it took, but you could feel him relax physically. “Angel,” he mumbled in his sleep, it sounded like a mix of relief and pleading. “Yeah, it’s me,’ you whispered back. “Just settle down, you’re safe, you can sleep.” He rolled onto his side slowly, his back turned to you, you had to relent and let go of his remaining hand as he did so, but his quiet, even breathing let you know that his nightmare had passed. You smiled in the dark, happy it was over for him. Getting up, you paused to look at his sleeping mass, you felt the urge to kiss his cheek goodnight. You knew he wouldn’t mind for you to do such a thing, he did not shy from sweet kisses to your forehead or hair when he comforted you after all, and you could imagine his smile if you were ever bold enough to try such a thing while he was awake. Perhaps it was because he was asleep that you felt so bold, stroking his hair again as you leant down to kiss his cheek. He sighed your nickname again and nuzzled himself further into his pillow. “Sweet dreams,” you whispered as you let yourself out of the room, careful not to close the door too loudly as to wake him. You collapsed back on the couch with tired grunt, trying to settle down before remembering your previous issue. Cursing quietly you threw the pile of blankets Ezra had given you onto the ground so you could situate yourself more comfortably, too tired to even bother with your leg. ‘It’s better than the couch at least’ you thought as your body slowly surrendered to sleep.

“Morning, Dad,” Cee’s voice cut through the small living area, rousing you from sleep. “Shhhhh, she's still asleep,” Ezra whispered. “I don’t think she slept well last night, she's sleeping on the floor. I don’t want to wake her.”

You smiled into the pillow, he was so considerate. “The couch is uncomfortable,” Cee replied, whispering too. “I know, but she refused to let me take it. Stubborn woman,” he murmured as he moved about the kitchen. “That makes two of you,” Cee teased, snickering at something, Ezra’s expression you imagined. “Are you going to work today?” she asked, changing the subject. “Not until tonight, i’m only working at the port this evening,” he answered, a soft sizzling sound filling the kitchen for a moment. “Which is why, little lady, I am up and making you breakfast.” “Pancakes again?” she asked. “You only make them when you’re in a good mood.” “Well, there’s plenty to be happy about now,” he whispered, you could hear the smile on his face. “I’ll bet,” the young girl snickered again. You could hear him flipping the pancakes, the smell made your stomach rumble. “I must enquire, Little Bird.” Ezra sighed after a short while. “I believe I had one of my terrors again last night. Please tell me I did not wake you up again?” You heard the fridge open, followed by the sound cutlery. “Yeah, I heard, but you stopped pretty quickly.” Ezra sighed and hesitated a moment before asking, voice even quieter. “Do you think I kept her up too?” “I think she's the reason you stopped,” Cee murmured back, you could imagine the quizzical look Ezra was no doubt giving her, prompting her to continue. “I heard her moving about shortly after they started.” she admitted quietly. “I think I heard her go into your room.” Their conversation died down after that, both trying to keep as quiet as possible as to not wake you, but you couldn’t help drifting awake every now and then as they went about their morning routine. Things were silent once more when Cee left for school, Ezra seeing her off at the door. You could hear him shuffling about, trying to be respectful of your sleep. You woke up properly close to noon. Groaning loudly as you stretched out on the floor between the couch and coffee table before struggling up onto your feet. You were glad you kept your leg on, getting up off the floor without it would have been annoying. You made your way to the bathroom, hearing Ezra shuffle about in his room. He greeted you as you came back out of the bathroom, now standing in the kitchen. “Good morning, Angel,” he smiled cheerfully. “May I interest your weary soul with some breakfast?” “Pancakes?” you asked with a tired smile, nodding your answer to him as you were trying to brush the tangles out of your bed head with your fingers. “How did you know?” he asked with a chuckle, taking the batter out of the fridge. “I heard from a little Bird that you only make them when you’re in a good mood,” you joked, sitting yourself at the counter. He paused and looked at you. “Ah, you heard Birdie and I this morning? I’m very sorry about that, we did not intend to rouse you from your slumber.” You shook your head. “It's fine, you weren’t being loud,” you reassured. “It's just I didn’t have a proper sleep last night.” Mentally you scolded yourself at your slip, you were trying to reassure him, and here you were implying you had a terrible sleep because of your sleeping situation. He looked to the ground in shame and guilt. “Because of the couch, or because of me?” he asked. You sighed, “Travel lag catching up on me,” you lied, wanting to spare his concerns. “I was already awake last night when you had your nightmare.” He swallowed and turned back to his task of making the pancakes. “I am sorry you had to see me like that-” he began. “Stop,” you said firmly, putting an end to his self pity. “I understand Ezra. I already knew you had them, I've had them too. I know exactly what it's like. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.” He looked back at you, guilt etched on his face. “I-I imagined I would be rid of them by now.” he admitted. “It has been almost two years, there's no reason for me to-” “Keeva, stop, Ezra,” you sighed. “You went through something horrific, you had a traumatic injury, and not only that, had to deal with the result of that injury while conscious. No one expects you to be over it.” He distracted himself with your breakfast. “You know,” you said, bringing his attention back to you. “I still get them too sometimes? And I lost mine long before you had.” He looked back at you again, eyes wide. “Still?” he asked. You nodded. “Of course, there's no set timeline on recovery Ezra,” you said, giving him a soft, sympathetic smile. “In fact, most of us spend the rest of our lives dealing with it. You give yourself too high expectations, you know?” He returned your smile. “Once again, Angel, you have made it seem far less daunting, thank you.” You beamed at him as he plated up your food. “Enjoy your lunch!” he teased as he placed the plate in front of you. You rolled your eyes at him before digging in.

Your clothes were still wet, but Ezra gave you some more spares of his for you to wear for the time being after you took a quick shower. He was getting himself ready for his shift that night as you came out of the bathroom again. He wanted to make sure everything was ready to go so he could spend as much time as possible with you before he had to race off. Once the two of you were ready you both sat on the couch while you let your leg dry out. “I am merely sitting at a desk watching monitors, Angel,” he explained when you asked what he had to do at work. “They do not allow me to act as a proper security guard doing rounds. They say I have no formal training, and apparently getting into altercations on the Green does not count as an adequate experience,” he chuckled. “And I think of course the arm plays a deciding factor in that regard. But,I suppose I am fine with that, I don't want to be a security guard after all. I’ll take what I can get for now.” You stared at his stump for a moment from your position arm hooked over the back of the couch and resting your cheek on your arm. “Physically, you should be able to get a prosthetic now yeah?” you asked. He nodded. “That's what my doctor said. But I regret that the option is out of my reach for now. Central is an expensive place, even in this industrial district. Every point I save goes to keeping a roof over Little Bird's head, providing her with an education and food in her belly. Everything I had saved up beforehand went to medical expenses and securing this place,” he gestured around. You smiled, tucking your leg up so you could rest your chin on your knee. It was so sweet how he was giving up everything for her but you couldn't help but feel the smallest amount of pity for him because he had to give up chasing his dream. “I could help?” you offered. He smiled, ruffling your hair before kissing your temple. “You have already helped me more than enough Angel.” “I want to help more,” you said, raising your chin in challenge. “Keep your points, save them for something important,” he encouraged. “I think a prosthetic is pretty damn important Ezra.” you challenged. ‘You’re important’ you added in your head. “Angel,” he sighed. “You don’t have to-” “You’re right, I don’t have to. I want to.” “Keeva you are incredibly stubborn you know that?” he chuckled. “I’ve been told once or twice,” you smiled. He chuckled more and shook his head. “I mean it Ezra, let me help.” “I couldn’t ask that of you,” he said. “And you’re not, I'm offering,” you said, he was about to protest some more but you pressed on. “Look, I'm in a good financial situation. I haven’t had to pay for medical or living expenses while in physical recovery, I don’t have to hire pods or lodging when I work. I don't spend much when I arrive back in Central and I just had two successful trips in a row consisting of multiple jobs. So if it's the points. We’re good.” He hesitated, you could see in his eyes that he was considering it. “If this was the other way around, Ezra, you wouldn’t hesitate to do the same thing,” you cut into his thoughts with a poke to his chest. His shoulders dropped as he sighed. “I must concede that you are not wrong there, Angel.” You gave him a cheeky smile. “Then it’s agreed, I'm buying you a prosthetic!” you cheered. “Only a standard model,” he said sternly, “ No fancy robotics or anything too high end. And I must insist that once Little Bird is off to college and I am back to prospecting that I pay you back.” “You really can be just as stubborn as me,” you chuckled. “But, it’s a deal. We can take a look at options when you get some time off work.” He sighed, leaning back on the couch. “I am afraid that won’t be for a few days Angel. I took a day off yesterday for you, my days are not usually so free.” “It’s okay, I understand,” you said with a smile. He patted your thigh, looking back at you with a smile. “I hope you can keep yourself entertained while Little Bird and I are away. I think we have a spare key should you want to venture out at all. I would hate for you to be cooped up in here all day all alone after all.” You smiled wider, trying to ignore the way his casual touch made your heart soar and cheeks heat up. “I might just do that. I haven't had the chance to spend my spoils yet. Might treat myself.” “You deserve it,” he smiled back before getting up and rummaging about one of the kitchen drawers. He laughed in success as he pulled the key out and tossed it to you on the couch. “Cee gets back mid to late afternoon. I won’t be back until late at night. I’m sure I can trust you two ladies to arrange your own dinner. Although I am afraid there is not much in terms of food in the fridge, I have not had the chance to-” “I’ll go shopping,” you interrupted, getting up off the couch and making your way over to him. “And, before you start, yes, I do have to. You are letting me crash here free of charge, It’s the least I can do,” you said, poking him in the chest again. “I don’t know why I even bother trying to argue with you, Angel,” he sighed, rolling his eyes, a smile giving away his true feelings. “Fine, just don’t burn the place down.” “Hey, I can cook!” you pouted as he ruffled your hair again and kissed your forehead. “Of course you can, Angel,” he smiled.

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quicksilversquared · 4 years

Text

The World’s Most Obvious Trap

As the new Guardian, Marinette wants to get a solid advantage over Hawkmoth, or- even better- defeat him for once and for all. That sounds like a really daunting task, but with a little creativity- and a little magical help from the long-lost Order of the Guardians- it might just be possible.

References S3 finale spoilers

Links in the reblog

Hawkmoth raced along the rooftops, eyes trained on Ladybug as she ran along in the street below. She was dodging between cars, clearly trying to throw him off and lose him, but with no luck on her end. She just wasn't fast or slick enough to give him the slip, which meant that soon enough, she would mess up and he would win. He would get her earrings and the Miracle Box soon enough, and then his akuma would take down the cat and get his ring.

Why Ladybug had made such an amateur mistake as to actually bring out the entire Miracle Box Hawkmoth didn't know- maybe she hadn't decided what other holders she would need to tap yet and panicked enough that she had just grabbed the entire thing- but frankly, he didn't care. All that mattered was him getting his hands on that box.

And then Ladybug tripped.

Hawkmoth could hear the gasps from the few foolish onlookers as she fell face-first on the pavement and the Box- if it could even be called that, it looked more like an egg now, or perhaps an strange attempt at a replica of her yo-yo- slipped out of her arms, first bouncing and then rolling away. Ladybug yelped and tried to scramble to her feet, but Hawkmoth was faster. In a flash, he was down on the street, snatching up the Miracle Box and racing away before Ladybug could come up with the presence of mind to try to stop him with her yo-yo. Back to the rooftops, then leaping over one street, two, three, racing along.

He wasn't going to lose the Box this time. No more handing it out to anyone else, except for Nathalie. That way, no dumb mistakes would be made, and he could make full use of the range of powers that the entire box of Miraculous would give him. He already had plans for several of them, power combinations that Ladybug and Chat Noir wouldn't be able to do anything about.

Second Chance, for one, would mean that their very next fight could very well be their last. Hawkmoth could keep resetting things until they went the way he wanted to. Voyage would let him pop up behind the superheroes without them noticing, too. And the Rabbit would mean that he could help himself in the battles, pulling a future him and Nathalie in to fight alongside their present selves, probably with different Miraculous. As for the others...

Well, Hawkmoth would look at them with Nathalie tonight, and between the two of them, they could come up with the best combinations for them to use. Perhaps they wouldn't get the other two Miraculous today- being too hasty to act could mean losing the Box again, just like they had before- but it wouldn't be long.

Several streets back, Ladybug dusted herself off and rejoined Chat Noir where he had been hidden in an alleyway nearby, ready to step in if Hawkmoth had gone after Ladybug himself. The two of them exchanged a triumphant look and subtle fist bump, trying to hide their smiles.

Hawkmoth thought that he had won this battle, but instead, he had fallen straight into their trap. It wouldn't be the supervillain's victory that would be happening soon, but theirs.

And they couldn't wait.

It started several weeks after Marinette became Guardian of the Zodiac Box, after she spent an evening brainstorming ways to end the war with the flock of kwamis now under her guard. It was a big task, and a daunting one after only really countering Hawkmoth's attacks for so long, but it was a step that Marinette thought that they had to take.

After all, Hawkmoth had made gains with his thief of Master Fu's tablet (which Marinette had told her mentor to at least password-lock, but of course he hadn't), his fixing of the Peacock Miraculous, and his knowledge of most of their backup team. Meanwhile, the superheroes had lost their mentor and his knowledge beyond what he had passed down to Marinette. She had gotten a copy of the notes from his tablet to study before it was stolen, at least, so they hadn't lost everything, but there had been even more knowledge in Master Fu's head before he had gotten memory-wiped after renouncing his role as Guardian.

(And that whole bit was definitely a concern of hers, but- like a lot of her personal troubles and worries- it would have to wait until an undefined later to be dealt with.)

Their careful balance between superheroes and supervillains had been disrupted, and it was getting more dangerous for them to continue as they were. She and Chat Noir had to make some headway in figuring out who Hawkmoth and Mayura were, so that they could start some of their own offensive strikes before it was too late and so she wouldn't have to be so stressed out about balancing her superhero and civilian lives.

Thus, the kwami war-meeting.

"I would say to add more permanent holders, but you're still testing out new teammates," Ziggy said, sighing. "And it would probably be a good idea to find some people who aren't in your class, since Hawkmoth's going to have a close eye on you guys."

Marinette groaned. She knew that, in the back of her mind, but she had been ignoring it. After all, she had only been kind-of friends with people in other classes in previous years and didn't know them well enough to assign a Miraculous to them, so she had more or less defaulted to giving Miraculous to her friends. "That's a good point. Though!" She perked up as a thought hit her. "If people really switch up their transformation- because I know that the Miraculous can change what people look like- I might still be able to re-use some of our old teammates! Not Chloe, obviously, and they wouldn't be able to keep their Miraculous, just in case," she added. "But they have battle experience, which is helpful."

The kwamis considered that.

"It could work, but maybe give them some time to think of a new look," Wayzz finally told Marinette. "They'll want their hair color and style changed, for sure- and the suits! Those have to be changed up for sure. No two people are the same, and their suits will reflect that. It will have to be quite the conscious decision to change them."

Marinette nodded, writing that down on her to-do list. That made sense. "Okay. I'll try to do that this week- and since Chat Noir knows everyone, he can help, too. I'll just have to make it clear that we're definitely skipping Chloe. There's no point in getting her hopes up again, not when she made such a nuisance of herself last time."

There were noises of agreement at that, and even Pollen nodded her head sadly. She had clearly had hopes for Chloe, but Chloe just wasn't willing to let herself grow and learn at the moment.

"But that's still just a stopgap," Marinette mused, tapping her chin. "We tried following the butterflies back to Hawkmoth last summer, but that was a no-go. It's impractical to try to spot the akumas before they possess people, because it would take forever to even figure out where they were coming from. If we could make some sort of trap, one that we could deploy whenever Hawkmoth comes out, something where we could be sure that we wouldn't just accidentally trap civilians as well- that would be nice, but I don't know how practical that would be to even try."

The kwamis considered that.

"Well, you would definitely want something that relies heavily on magic," Trixx told her, spinning around in thought. "There's probably a spell that could do that somewhere! Not in the grimoire, though. It wouldn't be related enough to the Miraculous for that."

"And spells like that would take an experienced spellcaster," Wayzz chimed in. "I don't know if Master Fu would have been able to pull some of those off. He hadn't gotten to that part of his training when... well, when the temple was destroyed."

Marinette slumped, discouraged. "Well, it doesn't help much if I don't have the spells and wouldn't be able to cast them, either. I wish I had more mentors. I mean, Master Fu was great, but he had only been an apprentice, and now-"

"The temple is back!"

All of them swung around to stare at Kaalki, who was prancing around in clear excitement. After a second, Ziggy gasped and joined her, zipping around in circles. "The temple is back! The temple is back!"

"I- yes?" Marinette managed, blinking at them as two more kwamis joined the excited chant. "But it's in Tibet, and we don't know if the temple being back means that the monks are, too- oh, and if they aren't, that probably means that it would fall on me to make sure that the other Miracle boxes don't get stolen, and oh gosh, it's been weeks, people could have already raided the temple- but I can't leave Paris to go check on it, Hawkmoth could attack again and I can't leave Chat Noir alone, but I can't hope that Hawkmoth won't go over there unannounced- or what if he has Mayura do it? Ugh, this is too much to consider-"

"The old Guardians were brought out of limbo, too!" Pollen chirped loudly, snapping Marinette out of her spiraling. "We've been in contact with the other kwamis, now that they've been restored. We did tell Master Fu, but I guess we forgot to mention it to you."

Marinette settled back on the floor, suddenly boneless with relief and whiplash. "They- they are? Oh, good- but do they know about Hawkmoth? I mean, that footage of the temple was broadcast all over Paris, multiple times- he knows about them, I bet that he's planning on attacking them, too, and if they're not expecting it-"

"They know, and they've protected the temple!" Longg practically shouted, cutting off Marinette's second spiraling panic attack in just as many minutes before it could really get going. He waited for her to stop hyperventilating again, then continued. "They gathered up all of the boxes and scrolls and everything from the temple only hours after coming out of limbo and hid in their emergency cave nearby until they could get wards and traps up to protect themselves. I'm surprised that the news didn't say anything about the temple vanishing again after a couple days, because it's now shielded from the outside world."

"But I still don't see how that helps me," Marinette said, frowning. "They're in Tibet, and it sounds like I wouldn't be able to find them anyway, even if I could leave Paris."

Kaalki gave a delicate cough, and Marinette blinked at her for a moment before groaning. "Right, right, Voyage! But...the temple would still be hidden. And there would be a language barrier, too. I doubt that they would just happen to speak French."

"We could give them a heads-up that you would be coming, and then they can let you in," Sass told her. "And the kwamis could translate. We can make it work, for sure."

Marinette perked up at that, finally letting hope well back up. She wasn't alone anymore, not really. She could get new mentors, ones that were well out of Hawkmoth's range, were more than able to defend themselves, and had more training. She would still miss Master Fu, but she could soften the loss at least. "Oh! Great! But I want to come up with a trap idea before I go there. Maybe it's just a pride thing, but it's going to be my first time meeting them, and I'm a Guardian, too, and, like..." She let out a long breath. "I don't want their first impression of me to be of a blundering hero who doesn't know what she's doing."

"They won't think that, Marinette!" Wayzz assured her quickly. "They understand that the role of Guardian was thrust upon you when you weren't ready, and you were trained by a mentor whose training was less than complete. But if you want to go in with a little more planning in place, that's understandable. We can brainstorm more."

And so they all puzzled. Marinette tapped her pencil against her lips, trying to think of what kind of trap she could use. The kwamis had assured her that whatever kind of trapping spell she could think of, the monks at the temple either had a spell that fit that bill or would be able to develop one. She wanted something that could be portable, because Hawkmoth just turned up wherever the akuma fights were and those could be anywhere in the city. It had to be clever, because anything obvious Hawkmoth would figure out right away-

-or would he?

Marinette frowned at that. Hawkmoth had akumatized the same people over and over, with the same powers instead of adding on. He had missed really obvious openings, and given akumas powers that would destroy or hide the Miraculous instead of trapping them on more than one occasion, and not just when they were all just starting out. He had set-ups that seemed complex and like they should guarantee a win for him, but they fell apart around him. He got cocky and then messed up.

So something a bit on the obvious side could work.

Her fingers tapped at her notepad, trying to think. Best-case scenario, Marinette wanted to get both Hawkmoth and Mayura trapped at the same time, to finish up the fight for good. That meant that her trap would have to have a spell that wouldn't make it obvious that it was a trap- like, Hawkmoth couldn't be visibly contained- and the containment had to be in such a way that Mayura couldn't just let him go. Which meant that if Hawkmoth could be sucked into a sort of limbo, maybe, which suggested that he would have to touch something, maybe.

It hit her like a thunderbolt. What did Hawkmoth want- well, besides their Miraculous? The other Miraculous, which would give him a huge advantage. Obviously she didn't want to endanger any of the other Miraculous at all, so maybe she could make replica Miraculous to use in their place, and possibly a replica Miracle Box, too. If she could get some sort of trapping spell that would activate upon contact with skin, and then some sort of locator spell on the box, all the superheroes would need to do once the supervillains got their hands on it would be to wait for a bit to make sure that the supervillains weren't still roaming free, then stroll on in and collect it. Then, once they had had a bit of a rest, they could free the supervillains to defeat them and collect their Miraculous one at a time, in a time and place of their choosing, with all of the backup heroes they wanted. It was perfect.

Now, all they had to do was figure out how to make it work.

Chains and cording and beads and clay and resin came together to one faux-Miraculous after another, banged out between akuma attacks and homework. Some pieces Marinette just bought from the store- the Ox's nose ring, the Horse's glasses, the Rooster's ring, and a pocket watch that she could modify into a decent enough replica of the Rabbit- but for most of the pieces, she put the pieces together herself.

Marinette still hadn't decided if she wanted to try to make a faux Miracle Box or if she just wanted to empty the real Miraculous into a temporary container and just use the real thing. If the box had stayed in the same shape as before it might have been straightforward- difficult and fiddly, but straightforward- to make a copy, but with her new box...

Maybe it was kinda cool that it was the same shape as her yo-yo, but it wasn't nearly as convenient.

"I think I should go visit the Guardians now," Marinette said, two weeks after coming up with her plan. "I mean, I'm nearly done with my Miraculous copies, and most of a plan in place. It seems like it's actually enough to show that I've done some of my own work, and I'm not relying entirely on the Order-"

"Which still would have been completely fine and entirely understandable," Tikki reminded her. "Which we did tell you. Are you going this afternoon?"

Marinette nodded. "Yeah. I don't have anything going on, I've told my parents that I'm studying at the library, and Alya is busy with Lila and the other girls. I don't have anything going on- and yes, I'm positive, because I've turned down stuff or canceled it ever since I came up with our plan so that I could get stuff done." She let out a long breath. "I'm ready to meet them. I just- I hope they aren't too strict, and that we can come up with a solution, and- Tikki, is it dumb if I'm worried about them wanting to come in and take over our fight in Paris? Like, it would be a huge weight off of my shoulders, sure, but it's been Chat Noir and I for ages leading the fight and doing it on our own, and for someone else to finish it..."

"I understand," Tikki assured her. "You've been the authority on the akumas since the start. But I don't think you'll have much to worry about! The other Guardians will probably be happy to play support. Just because they're older doesn't mean that they'll automatically assume that they know more about the situation."

"Good." Letting out a long breath, Marinette climbed up to her bed and unlocked the trunk where she was keeping the Miraculous, punching in the code for her inner box, then pulling out the Miracle Box. Three minutes later, Marinette was standing in the middle of her room with the Horse's glasses on, facing a last-minute bout of nerves.

"I have to know where I'm going to use the Horse, though," she fussed, fiddling with the top of her bag. "And I know what the temple looks like, but the wards will keep me out, I thought, and what if an akuma pops up- I mean, I know we just had one this morning, but two in a day isn't unheard of, just uncommon."

"I am also connected to the akuma alert system," Tikki reminded her. "Sure, your phone might be out of range, but I'll know. And Plagg can contact me, too, there's not a range limit on that. As for the temple, well..." She gestured to Kaalki. "She can explain better than I can."

"My last holder used coordinates, because that was a system that he was comfortable with," Kaalki told Marinette. "And sure, it you can picture a location, that's great, too. But for this- I would say just listen to your gut, and you'll end up there."

That sent Marinette into a round of giggles. "I'd rather not end up inside of my gut, thanks. That sounds cramped and probably breaks some rules of, like, time and space."

"Oh, you-" Kaalki swiped at her, clearly not upset at all. "You know what I mean! Just follow your gut feeling, and I'll get you just outside of the temple's wards. Let's go!"

Marinette nodded, letting out a long breath before calling on her dual transformation. Maybe it wasn't necessary- she didn't need to be transformed with Tikki, after all- but it was comforting to have her normal transformation and her yo-yo at her side when she was going into unfamiliar territory.

Besides, maybe the Guardians would be more likely to take her seriously if they saw superheroine Ladybug instead of normal civilian Marinette.

With one last deep breath, she relaxed and called on the feeling inside of her. "Voyage!"

The portal opened, and Ladybug stepped through. Her bedroom vanished, and suddenly she was standing at the edge of a valley bottom, looking out at mountains and a very, very empty field of green grass.

The portal closed.

"Okay, so I'm in Tibet now," Ladybug told the air, releasing the Horse part of her transformation. Kaalki spiraled free. "Uh. I guess I'll just...walk forward?"

"No, just wait!" Kaalki insisted. "Some of their wards aren't the friendliest, so you want to wait for a guide. They'll have a lookout who should see you soon enough. In the meantime- a snack?"

Ladybug nodded, reaching into her yo-yo to pull out the baggie of apple slices that she had stored there. "Of course. Here you go- oh, look, there's someone there!"

The old man who had appeared seemingly out of nowhere smiled, stepping closer and holding out a hand. "Greetings. You must be the newest guardian. Welcome to our temple- please, come in. We have a lot to talk about."

The monks of the Order were friendly, if a bit formal, Ladybug decided as she talked with several of the eldest members of the temple. Their words were a bit stilted- apparently there was a translation spell in play- but they wanted to help her in any way they could. She had explained her idea for a trap right away, and already they had their best spellcasters on the job, looking through books and scrolls to find something suitable. While they waited, the monks answered some of Marinette's questions, getting a feel for what she had been taught and what Master Fu had not yet had a chance to touch on.

There was a lot that she still had to be taught.

"Not all of it is critical, of course," Master Tenzin told her, smiling. "I think that your plan to trap Hawkmoth will work well, and then you can call on your backups and us as well to defeat him and his assistant at your leisure. But it's good knowledge to have, so that we can build upon it and not lose it in the future, in case it's needed."

"Of course," Ladybug agreed. Everything was really interesting to learn, really, and it was nice to know what was possible so that she would know what was an option for plans in the future. "It will be nice to learn at my own pace, too. With Master Fu, we were rushing because we didn't know how much time we would have, and lessons with him plus my schooling plus akuma attacks and my regular civilian responsibilities..."

The monks around her nodded.

"That is why historically, we took in children and taught them here full-time," Master Sonam commented. "But I can see where that would be unpractical in this day and in your situation."

Ladybug smiled and nodded. She couldn't come here and learn in the same way that Master Fu had, even if she had wanted to. She had her own hopes and dreams beyond the Miraculous, and she wasn't going to give them up just because she had been picked to be Ladybug.

Before any of the other Masters could say anything else, one of the spellcasters stuck her head in, beaming. "We found a spell that's a perfect fit for what Ladybug wanted. It activates upon contact with skin and will suck the trapee into limbo. It's a fairly simple spell to release, and we can control how many people are let out at a time. And it will work with a small object such as the replica Miraculous."

Ladybug grinned, unable to help herself. "Oh, that's fantastic!"

"Will the replicas be ready soon, Amrita?" Master Tenzin inquired. "Or is it a multi-step spell?"

"It will take a couple days to cast the spell," Amrita told them. "There's a potion to soak the pieces in before the spell can be cast. But it will be less than a week, for sure. And we wanted to know, Ladybug- would you like us to create a replica Miracle Box with magic? It will take one more thing off of your plate. All we will need is a drawing. And the fake Miraculous, of course."

Ladybug perked up, flipping open her yo-yo so that she could pull out her baggie of replicas. She had finished the last one right before she came, which meant that everything was ready to go. "That's easy enough. Chat Noir and I found out recently that we can print out photos from our weapons, so if I just hit some buttons..."

The monks watched with interest as Ladybug punched several buttons, swiping to find the picture she had taken of her new Miracle Box. Another couple of buttons, and soon enough the yo-yo was spitting out a small photo, just like a Polaroid.

"Oh, that's different," Amrita commented as soon as Ladybug handed the photo over. "It looks kind of like your yo-yo! The spots aren't in the same places, of course, since there's a different number of them, but I can see the intention behind it."

Ladybug had to laugh at that. "That sounds like a nice way of saying that you don't like the design that much."

"No, it's just- I've gotten used to the Miracle Boxes looking a certain way, that's all." Amrita considered the picture. "We can do that, though. The kwamis will let you know when we've gotten everything ready."

"Thank you."

"On that note, we should probably let you go," Master Tenzin told Ladybug. "I had lost track of the time! We've been talking for quite a while. I can walk you to the edge of our wards."

"Of course." Ladybug sprang to her feet, making sure to do a quick bow to each of the monks and Amrita before following Master Tenzin out of the temple. He moved quickly for an older man, though she wasn't that surprised considering how speedy Master Fu could be when he wanted to.

"I am glad that you were able to come to us today," Master Tenzin told her as they reached the boundary of the wards. "It was great getting to meet you, Ladybug, and to learn more about the situation in Paris. I look forward to seeing you again."

"I- I had one more question before I go," Ladybug said quickly, trying not to sound as hesitant as she felt. It was just- well, maybe it wasn't exactly a pressing issue, but she had to know about the memory thing. "When Master Fu passed the role of Guardian down to me, he lost all of his memories. And I- I was wondering... I mean, I can understand it being for safety, but..."

Master Tenzin smiled, understanding. "Ah, yes. With Ladybug being such a big part of your life for so long and defining who you are, I can understand how the prospect of losing your Miraculous-related memories would be intimidating. But one size does not fit all; not all situations can be solved with the same solution. Likewise, there are many ways that a Guardian can pass on their duties, and most do not include full loss of Miraculous memories."

Ladybug's heart leapt. "There- there are?"

"Correct." He considered her, head tilting slightly to the side. "In this situation, Wang Fu knew your identity, and Chat Noir's, and the identities of a number of temporary superheroes as well. His identity, if the kwamis relayed the information correctly, was compromised. You were facing an active battle situation. If he did not renounce his Guardianship when he had the chance with you, he ran the risk of being taken hostage and being drilled for information. So he did a full wipe- which, I might add, is the type that we first drill into our trainees, because it is the most straightforward. In other situations, Guardians could opt for partial wipes or, if they were not in danger, no information wipes at all. We can cover different options the next time you visit, if you wish."

"That would be great, thank you." Ladybug bowed to him. "That is a load off of my mind. Thank you for taking the time to teach me today."

"It was our pleasure." Master Tenzin smiled at her. "Good day, Ladybug."

With one last bow, Ladybug called Kaalki to her, then summoned Voyage. In a flash, she was back in her bedroom in Paris. She was beaming as she detransformed.

"I take it that things went well?" Tikki asked, smiling. "You look happy."

"It was nice to get my questions answered," Marinette told her, grinning even wider. "It's a load off of my shoulders. And to have that last bit of the puzzle with the spells figured out- that was great, too. I have a whole support network there now."

Tikki spun in a happy circle. "That's great! I could tell that you got comfortable pretty quickly when you were there. I'm happy for you. What's next?"

Marinette considered that. "Well, I need to bring Chat Noir up to date for sure. He needs to know the plan, and that we're going to be ending the fights soon. I'd love to bring him along next time I go to the temple, too. He's my partner, after all."

"I think he'll like that," Tikki assured her. "And two heads are better than one! Maybe you'll have the temple to go to when you need it, but it's always nice to have backup that's close by, too."

With the full power of the Order of the Guardians behind her and on the case, it was barely a week before Ladybug got the message that her trap-box with all of the cursed Miraculous replicas was ready to go. She and Chat Noir popped over to pick it up and visit the temple (and introduce Chat Noir to all of the monks, because he had been super curious and Ladybug wasn't going to deny her partner the opportunity to learn more) before being pulled away mid-visit by their akuma alerts going off.

It seemed as though they might have an opportunity to set their trap earlier than they had thought.

"Let me stash the box for now," Ladybug said, letting Kaalki free as she dropped the Horse part of her transformation. She smiled at the kwami, then took the glasses off and popped them in her yo-yo for the time being. "We don't know if Hawkmoth will come out or not this fight, so there's no point in carrying it around until we've seen it."

"Yeah, but where?" Chat Noir wanted to know. "It's not like your... yoyo...is..." He trailed off, staring in disbelief as Ladybug tucked the Miracle Box into her much smaller yo-yo. "How?"

"Magic?" Ladybug suggested, snapping her yo-yo shut before dangling it from her fingers, ready to throw. "I don't know. I wanted it to work, so it did."

It didn't take long for them to catch up to the akuma. There was no sentimonster to go along with it this time, which was nice, and it just seemed to be a rather run-of-the-mill akuma. It was strange that they could say that about an akuma that seemed to be directing an army of rubber ducks down the street, but- rather unfortunately- it was pretty similar to something they had seen before.

Of course, Hawkmoth had come out that time, too, so maybe it wasn't a bad thing after all. The sooner they got the faux-Box to him, the sooner they could bring all of this to a close and the sooner they could actually have at least some semblance of a normal life again.

Ten minutes into the fight, there was a shout from a civilian in one of the windows above, and the superheroes glanced up to see Hawkmoth on the rooftops, poorly concealed by a chimney. He sneered at the civilian, who slammed their window shut immediately, and Ladybug and Chat Noir took the opportunity to dash off, "retreating" onto a side street and then continuing their run away from the fight. Both akuma and supervillain let out shouts of frustration, and they ran faster.

They had to make it look convincing that Ladybug could have gone home and gotten the Miracle Box. If they could lose Hawkmoth for a few minutes, then zip back into his field of vision "accidentally", it would look much more convincing.

Hawkmoth might be dumb, but he wasn't so incredibly dumb as to think that it wasn't at least a little suspicious for Ladybug to vanish for only a minute before reappearing with all of the Miraculous under her arm. They couldn't drop the ball and take the easy way out now.

After a couple streets, Ladybug and Chat Noir took to the skies to move faster, then converged as though briefly discussing a plan before separating and dropping into different streets. Ladybug ducked down a manhole, following the sewer system for a short distance. Chat Noir joined her, wrinkling his nose slightly as they worked their way to another street. He would get into position a couple blocks in front of her, and then be on hand in case anything went wrong with their trap.

Her yo-yo beeped to let Ladybug know that Chat Noir was in place and hidden, and she checked her yo-yo to make sure she knew where he was before pulling out the fake Miracle Box and bounding out to the street, using her yo-yo to swing up into the sky a couple times to get Hawkmoth's attention before swinging lower, still fast but not as visible, and then dropping to straight running on the ground.

Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Hawkmoth landing on the rooftops and starting to give chase. Ladybug sent a "panicked" look over her shoulder, then upped her speed, dodging and weaving among the abandoned cars in the street as though she was trying to confuse him.

She was closing in on Chat Noir's block. It wouldn't be the end of the world if Hawkmoth got the box early, but Ladybug would feel safer if she "fell" where Chat Noir could help if Hawkmoth decided to come after her instead of going for the box. With another glance behind her, Ladybug sped up. She could see Chat Noir's alleyway ahead of her, closer, closer-

Considering how often Marinette tripped over her own two feet, it was no great difficulty to do a convincing flying stumble, her arms flailing and sending the trap-box spinning through the air. Ladybug hit the ground with an oof and laid there for a second before scrambling to her knees, doing her best to look like she was doing her best to get the box again before Hawkmoth.

Hawkmoth looked thrilled as he scooped up the box, sending a smirk over his shoulder at Ladybug as he took off. Ladybug made to go after him, but as soon as he was out of sight, she dropped the act and headed for Chat Noir, making sure that they were out of sight of everyone in the street before exchanging a triumphant look and fist bump.

"Hook, line, and sinker," Chat Noir proclaimed, grinning. "Nice planning, my Lady. Now, what would you say to going and defeating that akuma to kill a bit of time?"

"I think that sounds perfect."

Hawkmoth made sure to lose Ladybug on his way back to his lair, dashing through back alleys and hiding in several spots. It wasn't until a glimpse at the news told him that both superheroes had returned to the akuma battle that he felt comfortable making the final dash back inside, retreating to his lair and abruptly releasing his transformation. His akuma had been defeated, after all, and there was no point in holding Nooroo in any longer. Besides, it would be better to try out the extra transformations individually, in order to get a better feel for them.

"What to try first," Gabriel mused, tapping his fingers against the box. He pressed each individual spot-section, smirk growing wider as one drawer after another popped out with a Miraculous in it. The number of Miraculous at his fingertips... it was incredible.

There would be no trusting spoiled, irresponsible teenagers with the entire chest of magic jewelry now. Miraculously, the universe had given him a second chance with the Miracle Box, and he wasn't going to waste it again. Gabriel and Nathalie- and perhaps an akumatized minion, and a future Gabriel and Nathalie come back with the Rabbit to help out- would be the only ones using these extra Miraculous this time around.

There was the Fox, the Turtle, the Bee. The Snake, the Dragon, the Horse... Gabriel tapped his lips, trying to pick one. After another long pause, Gabriel reached for the Dragon. That was a nice, strong Miraculous, and the powers presented some interesting possibilities. His fingers closed over the Miraculous, excitement building in his veins-

-and then there was a flash of light, and then nothing at all.

Nathalie checked the news feed on her tablet as the Gorilla drove her back to the mansion. She had had to take Gabriel's place at the latest Gabriel staff meeting, which had meant that she hadn't been on hand to help with the latest attempt to get Ladybug and Chat Noir's Miraculous. That was unfortunate but not avoidable, really, and Nathalie could only hope that Gabriel wasn't in too sour of a mood. Still, it wasn't looking promising- from the sounds of it, the akuma battle had been relatively short and Hawkmoth's appearance had been just as brief, with him vanishing almost as soon as he had arrived. That suggested that the superheroes had gotten the drop on him, perhaps, and he had had to retreat to make sure that he wasn't defeated. There wasn't much else that would cause such a short appearance, really-

And then Nathalie spotted a blurred photo of Hawkmoth dashing across the rooftops, a rather familiar-looking box tucked under his arm. The new Miracle Box, unless Nathalie's eyes were deceiving her.

Somehow, Gabriel had gotten his hands on it again. No matter how the rest of the fight went, if he had managed to get more Miraculous, he was bound to be in better spirits than normal. It was surprising that he hadn't texted her yet, perhaps, but it could very well be that he was too excited and focused on trying out all of the new Miraculous to remember to let her know.

Trying not to smile, Nathalie tapped her fingers against her tablet impatiently as the car picked its way through the midday traffic, brainstorming ways that they could incorporate their new powers. It wouldn't take more than a fight or two for them to take the superheroes down now if they played their cards right.

The car pulled through the mansion gates, and Nathalie thanked the Gorilla quickly before sliding out of the car and walking as briskly as she could up to the front doors. Through the doors, across the atrium- Adrien was still out of the house, right? Hopefully she wasn't meant to be checking in on him and forgetting- unlock the office doors before heading inside, re-lock them as soon as they clicked shut. As soon as she was sure that they wouldn't be interrupted, Nathalie strode over to the hidden elevator and punched in the combination for the lair, tapping her foot impatiently as the machinery whirred into motion and brought her down, over, and then up, up, up, slowing down slightly as she approached the lair.

The lair, which was empty.

"Gabriel?" Nathalie called, frowning as she stepped forward. He had left the window open and as Nathalie watched, a couple butterflies escaped. Based on the number that were fluttering around, either Gabriel hadn't harvested more lately or a lot of them had gotten free. "Gabriel, are you here?"

There was no response. Nathalie's frown deepened for a moment as she considered the scene, trying to figure out what might have happened. And then, all at once, it hit her.

Of course Gabriel hadn't been able to wait to try out his new powers, since they hadn't had the chance to do a test run of any of the other Miraculous the last time they had the box. He had probably picked one out and transformed, then gone out for a run or something. Maybe he had grabbed the Horse Miraculous and used it, and so he was somewhere else in the city altogether.

The smart thing to do, of course, would be to wait for Gabriel to return so that he could play the part of lead supervillain, the head of their team, and Nathalie could be the obedient sidekick. But what Gabriel didn't know couldn't hurt him, and Nathalie rather wanted to try out a couple of the Miraculous on her own. The Bee's powers, for instance, looked like they could be promising in the right hands (and the right hands were not those of Miss Bourgeois), and the Fox could be used for distraction, and then there were several Miraculous that they had yet to see in play...

With one more glance around, Nathalie knelt down next to the box. Her fingers tapped the side in thought, and then she reached out for the Bee Miraculous. That would be the best place to start, probably, and then while she was transformed she could try to figure out where Gabriel was. Plan decided, Nathalie grabbed the comb.

She didn't even have a chance to scream before she, too, was gone.

Ladybug and Chat Noir had recharged and let the Guardians know that the box had been deployed, then retreated to a secluded rooftop to wait for the signal that both supervillains had been trapped. There was no small amount of excitement in the air, giddiness at a successful trap set making both of them a little giggly.

"I didn't think it would happen so soon," Chat Noir said again, leaning back on his hands. "I mean, sure, Hawkmoth has been coming out for fights more and more often, and Mayura too- who knows where she was today- but I thought that we would have to wait a couple days. And I was just kind of like, how am I meant to sleep if we're waiting for that to happen? I would be too wound up to actually fall asleep."

"I'm still not going to be able to sleep," Ladybug admitted, fiddling with the strings of her yo-yo. "Especially if we don't get the signal today. Like, what if one of them gets sucked in, but the other doesn't? If they're in the same room and are actually cautious about it, the second person might decide not to risk touching anything."

"And then we're kind of left in limbo ourselves," Chat Noir finished. He flopped onto his back. "Okay, that's fair. Ugh. Now I'm going to worry about that, too."

"Sorry."

They fell into silence again, eyes occasionally scanning the Paris skyline. They had been told- or, rather, shouted to- that once both supervillains were trapped, twin magic beams of light would be shot into the sky, no matter what barriers stood between the box and the sky above. The spells would use the lingering magic from the Peacock and the Butterfly to identify the two supervillains, so that they could be sure that it was actually Hawkmoth and Mayura who were caught, not just random unlucky civilians. It was a complex, multilayered set of spells, and they were lucky to have people on their side who could manage that.

"What's the first thing that you're going to do once this is over?" Chat Noir asked, his voice quiet and barely carrying over the sound of the normal Paris traffic below. "Do you have plans?"

Ladybug huffed out a laugh. "I've been too busy to come up with plans. But I guess..." She trailed off, thinking. "I want to spend more time with my friends and family. Recently, I've really been holding off on making plans with people because they notice when I have to leave, and it stinks to have to miss things. I want to spend more time on my hobbies, because I don't know when the last time was that I designed anything and that stinks. I know the Guardians want to teach us stuff, too, but I might need a bit of a break before I go jumping into more Miraculous stuff."

"Being a normal teen sounds nice," Chat Noir agreed. "I mean, with my family- I've never exactly had that normal to start with, but more normal than what I have now would be nice-" His voice trailed off with a choke, and then Chat Noir raised a trembling hand, pointing at something behind Ladybug. "Bugaboo, the- the light has gone off. Look."

Ladybug perked up, spinning around. Less than an hour after their akuma battle had ended, they had the supervillains trapped! Her excitement rose-

And then crashed to the ground, shock and horror taking their place as what she was seeing sunk in fully. Twin beams of purple and blue shot into the sky, unmistakably coming from the Agreste mansion.

Apparently their earlier theory about Hawkmoth's identity hadn't been wrong after all, even though she had hoped that they might be, just for Adrien's sake.

(Arresting her crush's father had definitely not been in her plans for the day.)

Ladybug sighed, pushing herself to her feet to join Chat Noir and pulling out her yo-yo to let the monks know that they had already been successful. There was no point in putting off the undeniably unpleasant task of retrieving the trap-box and getting the supervillains out and arrested, no matter how much she wanted to.

For now, she would focus on the positives- Paris, and by extension Adrien, would be far safer with Hawkmoth and Mayura behind bars. Their days would be less interrupted, everyone would be less on edge, and, well, maybe without an overly controlling father overseeing every part of his life, Adrien would be able to do more things that he actually wanted to.

Things would be good. They would all get past this together and come on top, she was sure of it.

#Miraculous Ladybug #My writing #S3 finale spoilers #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste

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lycorogue · 4 years

Text

Love Square Fluff Week: Part 2 - Flowers

UPDATE (2/10/20): I finally had the time to go through and edit. All typos, mispunctuation, and incomplete sentences should be fixed now. Please let me know if you catch any others.

Technically this is the day 3 prompt, written as part 2 on day 4 of @lovesquarefluffweek 2020, and published at 2am on day 5.

Needless to say, I’m all sorts of behind and backwards in this project. I did decide to loosely tie all the prompts together into one cohesive story though, so we’ll see how that goes....

My biggest issue is that I seem to be coming up with super-angsty stories for these prompts, so dialing them down to try to get to Fluff leaves them closer to “warm feelings and happy endings”?

I’m good at this Fluff thing... >_>

Anyway, along with having it posted in full below, you can also read this story over on AO3, on FFN, or on DA.

Let Me Help You

Summary: Chat Noir struggles to help Marinette out with a major last-minute project. If only his darn claws weren't in the way.

Word Count: 3828 Rating: General Audience Spoilers: Minor “Reflekdoll” and “Troublemaker” spoilers Love Square Side: MariChat with secret Adrienette Romance Level: Sweet Friendship

It was late. Adrien probably shouldn't have been out running through Paris as Chat Noir. And Marinette definitely shouldn't have been frantically pacing her room.

The light caught his eye first. He had no clue how late Marinette stayed up, but Chat Noir wasn't expecting her top-floor room to shine like a lighthouse in the otherwise dim quarter of Paris. Then he saw her jump up from her floor, rake her fingers through her hair, tugging strands out of her pigtails, before pacing in a tight circle. She shook her hands out, stretched her arms, then plopped back below her window.

Wanting to check that everything was alright, Chat Noir leapt over to one of Marinette's windows and gently tapped on the pane.. Inside, she jumped, wheeling around in every direction before zeroing in on the window. Her face then scrunched in confusion. Chat Noir simply pointed up before climbing to her balcony to wait.

A few seconds later, Marinette opened the skylight hatch to her room and poked her head out. “Chat Noir? What are you doing here? Is everything alright?”

“I was about to ask you the same thing.” Marinette blinked at him, so Chat Noir continued. “Sorry. I just saw you pacing, and it's so late-”

“Oh!” Marinette broke eye contact. “No, I- I'm fine.”

Chat Noir cocked his head to the side. “Didn't look fine. You sure you're okay? You know you can tell me.”

Marinette quickly blinked. “I can? I mean, I do? I mean- Yeah, I know.” She gave him an awkward little smile. “Thank you.”

“So?”

Marinette sighed, then pulled herself up onto the balcony to sit beside Chat Noir. “Sorry, I'm just such a mess right now.” As if it reminded her how literal the statement was, she quickly pulled each half of her hair down, combed it back in place with her fingers, and then re-tied her pigtails.

“Something I can help with?”

“Oh, no. It's late. You probably have superhero-y things to do, or you were heading home-”

Chat Noir held up a hand to pause her. “I offered because I'm free. What's up?”

“It's nothing. I just- I didn't-” She shook her head. “I'm sorry, Chat Noir, I really need to get back to my project. I can't spare any more time.” She slid her feet back through the window, but Chat Noir caught her upper arm.

“Hey, hold up. There's no way I'm going to let you shoulder something that's clearly overwhelming you. What can I do?”

Marinette pursed her lips, again hesitating. “Really, I couldn't take up your time with this.”

“Marinette.” Chat Noir shifted his hand to her shoulder. “Seriously, I want to help. Please let me.”

Marinette simply stared at him for a few more seconds. He shrugged in return, encouraging her to open up. Submitting, she audibly exhaled.

“I was supposed to make three-hundred paper carnations for Kitty Section's music video shoot tomorrow, but I just- I ran out of time. Or, I will if I don't get back to it right now.”

“How close are you?”

“I think I've finished the first hundred.”

“Marinette.” His voice was soft; soothing, non-judgmental, and dripping with sympathy for her plight.

Marinette rubbed the back of her neck, a grimace on her face. “Between school, helping out my folks, finishing up my friend Alya's birthday gift, and- and other responsibilities I have, I just-” She shrugged. “Not enough time in a day.”

“Why didn't you ask for someone else to make them, or help you make them?”

“We all had our own job for the music video. I couldn't just dump more on them.”

“And you can't ask for them to give you a few more days because?”

“Because everyone else is ready for the shoot tomorrow. It wouldn't be fair.”

“Okay, and you took on making flowers for the video in the first place because?”

“It's for my friends. How could I say no?”

Chat Noir chuckled. “Okay, so you couldn't say no to a project you didn't have time for?”

“Exactly.”

“And you couldn't ask for help.”

Marinette shook her head.

“And you couldn't finish the project because you didn't have the time.”

“I have even less because I'm talking to you.”

“Which is why the one thing you can do is let me help.”

“Chat Noir, no.”

“Chat Noir, yes.” He rested his chin in his hand, trying to give Marinette a suave and debonair glance. “What kind of hero would I be if I didn't help a damsel in distress?”

She rested her hands on her hips and cocked an eyebrow. “I might be a bit overwhelmed right now, but I'm hardly a 'damsel in distress'.”

“Are you a damsel?”

“Well, I mean, technically-”

“Are you currently in distress?”

“I wouldn't put it in those words exactly.”

“Then you are a damsel that is currently distressing: aka, a damsel in distress. And it is my duty to assist any way I can.”

“Chat Noir-”

“Come on,” he gestured towards the window, “show me the way. Let's make those flowers.”

They stared each other down. Clearly no one told Marinette that you can't beat a cat in a staring contest. Finally, she caved, and waved him to follow her inside.

A rainbow of crepe paper scattered across the floor, and a mountain of green pipe cleaners were stacked on top of Marinette's chaise. A large cardboard box was butted up against Marinette's floral trunk. Over half of the box was still empty.

Chat Noir whistled at the daunting task before them. “Okay. So, how do we make these paper flowers?”

Marinette sighed again before kneeling among her nest of paper. She gestured for Chat Noir to join her. Then, she peeled a piece of crepe paper off her stack, handed it to Chat Noir, and peeled another off for herself.

“First, we need to cut the overall paper down to about twelve centimeters, then we need to fold it accordion-style like this, five times.” She showed him about how large each fold needed to be, then cut the excess off. She then showed him how to cut the folds to make a stack of sheets, and folded accordion-style again. Finding the center of her accordioned stack, Marinette tied on the end of a pipe cleaner, leaving the majority tailing below like a stem. Once secured, she fanned open each side of her stack, then slowly unfolded and fluffed each layer until it looked like a full carnation.

Nodding that he understood how to help with the craft, Chat Noir cut his own section of crepe paper, and started folding. Marinette was half way done with her next flower before Chat Noir finished his initial five folds; taking care not to rip anything with his claws. She was done with two more flowers by the time he started tying on the pipe cleaner.

Marinette chuckled.

“What?” He pouted at her, and delicately began to unfurl the sheets of thin paper.

“Nothing.” She smirked as she shook her head and refocused on her own works.

“No, what is it?”

“Nothing. It's just-” She shrugged. “I dunno. It's amusing to see you sitting in my room, doing crafts with such concentration and care.” She shrugged again before fluffing her current flower.

“Yeah, I guess it is kind of- Shoot!” Chat Noir looked down at his nearly completed first craft. His claw had torn right through one of the petals. “So sorry, Marinette. Can we save it?”

Marinette's tongue peeked out of the corner of her mouth as she inspected the flower. She fluffed the other petals, and finished the side Chat Noir was working on. “It's not perfect, but maybe if they tuck it in the back of the shoot no one will notice.”

Exhaling, Chat Noir nodded, and started on his next flower. For every three Marinette could finish, Chat Noir barely completed one. He was so careful with his claws, but he still kept snagging the paper, asking Marinette for help each time.

“I thought you were supposed to be the one helping me,” she joked as she fixed another flower. “We can't keep too many more of these, or there won't be a point in having the full three-hundred.” She scrunched her face to the side as she thought.

Chat Noir leaned heavily on his crossed legs, his chin in his hands as everything about him deflated a bit. His assistance was becoming more of a bother to Marinette than any sort of aid. He had to find a way to make it right. “What if I fold the paper, and you fluff it into a flower? Then I can't tear it.”

They tried that for a couple more flowers, but it still didn't help. Making sure he didn't tear the paper when folding it in the first place took just as long, and Marinette would still manage to get one of her own flowers made by the time Chat Noir handed his project to her.

“I'm sorry, Chat Noir. I appreciate you trying, but this isn't really helping much.” She chewed her lip as she tucked the scissors by her thigh, keeping them from Chat Noir as he tried to start up another sheet of crepe paper.

“It's because of these claws.” He looked down at his gloved hands and wished he could retract the extended nails. “If I didn't have them I wouldn't have to worry about the paper being so thin.”

“I know. It's not your fault.” She reached out and patted his knee. How did she become the one to comfort him? “I really am grateful that you offered. It means the world to me.”

“Yeah, but you still have so many to make and-” He looked around her room. It was late, and Marinette was already starting to yawn. He couldn't leave her to handle all of this on her own. Maybe he could show up to the shoot the next day with his own box of the flowers? He could do them a lot faster as Adrien than he could as Chat Noir.

That wouldn't work. Adrien wouldn't have known that Marinette needed help with the flowers, she'd probably be embarrassed that he covered for her like that, and it wouldn't stop her from trying to finish them that night, even if she had to pull an all-nighter. Adrien wouldn't be able to help her any better than Chat Noir could.

Or, could he?

Chat Noir's eyes lit up as he spotted some clothes Marinette had piled in the corner of her room. Her pink gym bag was tucked under her vanity sink to her left. This part of Paris was comparatively dark, and Marinette's room was fairly high up.

Plagg was going to hate this plan. So would Ladybug – if she ever found out.

“I've got an idea!” Chat Noir jumped up, skirted the paper carpeting the floor, and grabbed Marinette's gym bag. “Marinette, what are the largest pieces of clothing you own?”

“My largest-? Why do you need-?”

“I can't help you because my claws are in the way.” He held up his hands to showcase his artificial nails. “But, if I didn't have them-”

“No! No way! Nuh-uh.” Marinette was also on her feet now. “You can't transform back! I can't know who you are! No one is supposed to know!”

“And you won't know. It's fairly dark outside, so I'll take some of your clothes, go to your balcony, transform back, change into your clothes so my own can't give you clues on who I am, and if I wear a mask as well, you'll be none the wiser. Do you have a Halloween mask I could also borrow? Or a pillowcase you no longer use and wouldn't mind eye-holes in?”

“Are you serious right now?”

Puffing out his chest, and crossing his arms in front of it, Chat Noir gave a single nod. “Marinette, you are putting too much on your shoulders. I said that I am here to help, and I will. I've figured out how to keep my identity a secret, so what's the problem?”

“The problem is what if I figure out who you are?”

“You won't.”

“What if I look when you're detransformed?”

“You won't. I know you won't.”

That stopped her for a couple of seconds.

“Okay, well, what if the mask falls off?”

“Then you won't look until I put it back on, and I'll pay attention to whether or not it's coming loose.”

“What if-?”

“No. You said so yourself. Time is of the essence, and there's still a ton of flowers to be made. We don't have the time to waste on you arguing with me. I know you won't look, I know you want to keep my secret safe, and I know that we can get these things done in just a few hours if I do this. So let me do it.”

Another stare down. Marinette again lost. Probably because of how tired she already was.

“This is crazy. This is crazy. This is crazy,” Marinette muttered as she rummaged through the trunk. She tossed him a pair of black pants, and a black sweatshirt. She then walked over to a pile of fabric she had tucked over by her desk.

“Thematic. I like it.” Chat Noir held the pieces up against him to make sure they'd fit.

“Here.” She motioned for Chat Noir to hunch down, and when he complied, she wrapped a strip of black fabric around his eyes. “Keep your eyes closed for a second, and let me know if I press too hard.”

“What are you-?” Chat Noir felt pressure along the side of his nose, then on the other side. In a flash the blindfold was off his head. Marinette then cut the fabric, starting at the chalk mark she had made when she measured his nose.

Once done, she slipped the mask back on him. “Can you see alright?”

Chat Noir adjusted it slightly before giving her a thumbs up. Making sure Marinette didn't have time to argue further with him, Chat Noir quickly scooped the pants and shirt up, shouldered her gym bag, and jumped to her rooftop.

“What are you doing?” Plagg scolded once Adrien detransformed.

“I'm helping out Marinette.” Adrien pulled out a wedge of Camembert, and tossed it to Plagg before stripping out of his clothes.

“Ladybug isn't going to like this.” Plagg gulped the cheese down in one bite.

"Which is why she's not going to find out." Plagg quirked an eyebrow at him. "Come on, Plagg, I thought this through. Marinette isn't going to figure me out, and even if she does, she'll keep it to herself. It will be fine." The pants and shirt fit perfectly, as if they were made for him. Adrien wondered for a passing second why Marinette had clothes that fit him so well, but focused instead on the task at hand.

“I hope you really do know what you're doing,” Plagg whimpered. He then zipped over to Adrien and started mussing up his hair.

"Oh! Right! I forgot about that." Adrien shook out his hair, then slid his homemade mask on. Now donning his makeshift superhero suit, he tucked all of his belongings inside Marinette's gym bag, and hid the bag under the lounge chair she kept on her balcony. As he did so he spotted his ring. Marinette had seen Adrien's ring before. She also studied his look for her own design inspiration, so she'd probably recognize his Miraculous while it was deactivated. He couldn't chance tucking it in the bag, not after the Reflekdoll fiasco. He had to make sure he could transform on a moment's notice.

"What are you doing?" Plagg hissed as Adrien began pulling his ring off.

"I can't let her see it. She might figure out I'm Adrien this way."

"Told you this was a bad idea."

"Don't worry, Plagg. I'm not going anywhere without my Miraculous again. I promise." He tucked the ring in his front pocket and patted it. "See? Safe and sound."

Plagg simply glared. Ignoring him, Adrien double checked his mask was secure before padding back to the skylight in his stocking feet.

“Back.” Adrien climbed down the ladder and took his spot on the floor across from Marinette.

She snorted down a laugh, and then another, before she finally let herself giggle.

“What?”

“You look ridiculous, Chat Noir.”

“Yeah, maybe, but you don't know who I am, do you?”

She studied him for a minute before shaking her head. “No, I guess you got me there.”

“Exactly. So,” he clapped and rubbed his hands together, “ready to see how quickly I can actually make these flowers?”

She handed him the scissors with a playful smile. “Care to race to see who can make them fastest?”

“Well that's just not fair,” he protested, “you've had more practice!”

“Oh, don't be a sore loser before we even start,” she teased.

He prepped his paper; she hers, and the race was on. She beat him easily, and he challenged her to a rematch. She again won. And again. And again. And again. The two began laughing as they sped through the project, the piles of paper and pipe cleaners slowly dwindling.

Along with their races – which eventually died off; Chat Noir just could not overtake Marinette's mad crafting skills – the two began to just chat. They avoided anything terribly personal on Chat Noir's part, and he didn't bother asking anything too telling on Marinette's side as well. It was only fair that if he kept his secrets, she could keep hers.

They talked about how the weather was a lot more mild than they were expecting, and how skilled Kitty Section was for an up-and-coming band. Marinette told Chat Noir the concept Nino came up with for the music video, and that the paper carnations were going to be used to make the band members look more like dolls living in a child's imagination.

As the night wound on, Chat Noir and Marinette shifted along her floor, searching for more comfortable positions. Eventually, they ended up side-by-side with their backs against the chaise; the pile of pipe cleaners tucked between their hips, and a small stack of paper to each of their sides.

“And three-hundred.” Marinette declared as she finished fluffing the last of the tied-off crepe paper. “I can't believe we did it!” She pulled out her phone. “And it's only about one-AM. I could actually get some sleep tonight!”

Chat Noir smiled as he watched her pack up the box, quadruple-checking the number of flowers they had made. They were both a bit exhausted, but it wasn't anything he hadn't gotten used to as Chat Noir. Still, the over-tired giddiness in Marinette's voice was infectious. Plus, the sleepy wobble to her steps was kind of adorable.

“Aren't you glad you let me help you, then?”

She turned to him with heavy eyes, and a drowsy smile. Slowly, with a little bob to her head, she nodded. She was clearly minutes away from passing out. Chat Noir wanted to scoop her up, and tuck her into bed. That was probably a bit too much help for one night, though.

“Yeah. Thank you for pushing for me to accept your offer. You truly are my hero.” She toddled over to him, stretched up onto her tip-toes, and pecked a kiss on his cheek.

His cheeks instantly burned with a flash of a blush. Clearing his throat, he skipped away from Marinette, and bent down behind her chaise. When he stood back up he had one more paper carnation in his hand.

“Oh no!” Marinette squeaked. “Did I miss one? I could have sworn I counted right.” She whipped her head over her shoulder, looking at the box.

“No no. This was an extra one,” he twirled the pipe cleaner stem between his fingers before holding the pink paper flower out for Marinette. “For you.”

“Me?”

He nodded. “For the fun evening. For... for teaching me a fun new craft. For the temporary costume. For letting me help. For... I dunno, for being you. I don't know if your friends realize how much effort you put into your relationships, and it was amazing to see. So, to remind you how amazing you are-.” He let the sentence die on his tongue as he again gestured for her to take the flower.

It was her turn to blush as she took the flower from him. Staring at it instead of Chat Noir, Marinette also twirled the flower stem in her fingers, watching the flower spin hypnotically.

While she was distracted, Chat Noir leaned in and gave her a kiss on the cheek, startling her to catch his eyes with her own. He gave her a playful wink and pulled away. “Your friends are really lucky people to have found you. Always stay as fantastic as you are now. And don't forget to ask for help as well sometimes, 'kay?”

Dumbly, she nodded, and watched Chat Noir climb up to her roof. With a quick solute-wave, he climbed through her window.

He pulled her gym bag out from under the chair, and stared at his clothes tucked inside. He had dozens of those shirts, and the jeans and shoes were easy enough to replace. Would it be all that bad to “accidentally” leave them all behind and just transform with Marinette's costume still on?

“Psst,” Plagg hissed at Adrien, “did you fall asleep? What's the hold-up?”

No. As great as it would be for Marinette to know who Chat Noir truly was, he couldn't betray Ladybug's trust like that. He also couldn't chance putting Marinette in danger, no matter how much he had faith that she wouldn't say anything to anyone.

"So much for having someone new to talk to about the superhero thing," he muttered to himself before sliding his ring back on, stripping out of his loaner costume, and pulling his own clothes on. Tucking Marinette's clothing inside her bag, he dropped it onto her bed, and transformed back into his proper Chat Noir costume.

A couple of seconds later, he heard Marinette climb into bed and whisper “Goodnight, Chat Noir.”

“Goodnight, Princess,” he whispered back. Then he headed home, trying to come up with an excuse for Adrien to also make a paper flower for Marinette.

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