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honeylikewords · 3 years

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gifts (din djarin)

(a hanukkah fic about my Very Definitely Jewish Darling, Din Djarin. i left a few things ambiguous-- for example, Grogu is very definitely the baby/child/son being mentioned, but his name isn’t used so that he can be interpreted as either a human or alien child-- but it should still all make sense. also, Din and his beloved being a married couple. that’s about all you need to know! enjoy!)

“You have to actually at least try to wrap them.”

Din casts a narrow-eyed look over his shoulder at his wife, who is standing behind him in her pajamas, arms crossed over her chest with a playful smirk on her lips. She leans against the doorway to his work room and points at the small pile of presents laying in crumpled, crinkled, crushed lumps of misshapen paper, her eyes twinkling in the glow of his bench lamp.

“It’s hard,” he grumbles, turning back to the task at hand upon his workbench with a pout. “Besides, it’s not like he can even open packaging.”

“You can’t just give him unwrapped gifts, sweetness. The wrapping paper’s half the fun!”

“When I was a kid, I didn’t even get presents,” Din grouses, fumbling with a piece of tape stuck to his fingers. “It was just lighting the candles, prayers, and maybe dinner. None of this gifting stuff.”

“I know, hon.”

Walking up behind him, Din’s wife places an affectionate kiss on his temple and rubs at his tight shoulders, giggling to herself at his dour disposition. The corner of his lips twitch but he seems to suppress whatever emotion had intended to cross his face, instead allowing for the frown lines to form deeply on his forehead as he scrunches his brows and futzes with the obstinate tape again.

“But,” she continues, “We both agreed that the little guy was gonna get presents for each night. And if we’re going to be giving gifts, we ought to be wrapping them. Right?”

“Yeah, I know,” he replies, voice softly distant but accepting.

There’s a pause as she reassuringly massages her thumb along the neckline of his shirt and he makes that low, clearing sound, deep in his throat-- the ever-familiar noise of Din trying to gear himself up to say something he’s shy about-- then casts his eyes down at his hands, picking aimlessly at the affixed tape.

“Could you, uh… help me, please?”

His wife chuckles and rolls her eyes, bending down to kiss him solidly on the cheek, nodding as she pulls up a stool and sits next to him at the workbench. She lifts up one of the malformed paper-piles trying to pass itself off as a wrapped present and reaches over Din’s fidgeting hands to pick up his box-cutter, slicing through the masses of poorly-placed tape and crumpled paper to excise the gift within.

A Hot Wheels car in a plastic box sits before her, safely removed from its cocoon of wrapping paper, and, satisfied with her work, she turns to Din, flashing him a warm smile.

“What paper did you wanna use for this one?”

Din scuttles off his stool and procures a laundry basket packed with long tubes of rolled wrapping paper. He picks up one printed with chubby penguins wearing knit vests and pom-pom hats, and presents it to his bride proudly.

“I thought he’d like them,” he explains, pointing at one of the vested birds. “He loves animals.”

His brown eyes glimmer beneath the lamplight, and his eagerness to please gives him a puppyish sweetness, almost as if he’s waiting for her to praise his selection in paper. She can’t help it; leaning over, Din’s wife gives him yet another kiss, this time a light, brief peck on the lips, and feels him melt slightly into her touch, his tension from his earlier frustration ebbing away.

When she pulls back, Din’s face is clearly warmed-- a certain glow about his cheeks and ears, and a pleased expression overtaking him-- and he flashes her a sheepish smile.

He watches as she carefully unspools a length of the paper and measures it against the matchbox car, flipping the container this way and that until she has the correct proportions. Once she is content, she takes up a pair of scissors Din had long-since abandoned on the workbench and glides through the paper easily, slicing off a neat section of it before aligning the present just so and making her folds.

Entranced by the efficiency of her motions, Din stares as she makes neat fold after neat fold, enveloping the small box in a smooth, crisp layer of the penguin paper. She holds down the nexus of the folds with one finger and turns to Din, pointing to something further down the worktop surface.

“Could you hand me a piece of tape, honey?,” she asks, twirling her finger as if that will summon the tape dispenser closer. “I can’t reach it from here.”

Din gives a wordless nod and cuts her a small segment of the tape, taking great care not to get it tangled around his fingers again as he gingerly affixes it to the end of hers. Once she has it, she places it on the central fold of the paper amalgam, then extends her hand again; a silent request for another piece.

Once more, Din cuts off a length of tape and gently places it in her hands, and watches her with wonderment as she seals the gift into its paper, flipping it over so that the seams are concealed at the bottom. She looks up and down the table, brows knit, and sighs through her nose.

“Did you… not bring any bows or ribbon out, Din?”

“...We have ribbon?”

She lets out a huff of affectionate exasperation and gets up from the workbench to scour through the basket of paper and finds what she’s looking for wedged in at the bottom; out of the depths of the wrapping paper basket she procures a rather beaten-looking baggie of stick-on bows and spools of ribbon, shaking it as if to say “behold, Exhibit A” to her husband.

Din gives her a beleaguered shrug of the shoulders followed by what he clearly hopes to be a winning smile, and she acquiesces, returning to the bench and tugging out a blue bow and unpeeling the backing of it.

“I think he’s going to love this one,” she murmurs as she affixes the bow, placing it jauntily on one corner of the box’s flat surface. “I think he’s going to love all the presents you picked for him.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she can see Din sit up straighter, his chest pushed out a bit more prominently, pleased and prideful. She chuckles to herself and pulls out a marker from a “WORLD’S NO. 1 DAD” mug on the desk, uncapping it and handing it to Din.

“Write who it’s from on it so he knows, okay?”

Din grins and nods, almost childlike. Just below the bow he writes the words “FROM DADDY TO KID” in his heavy handwriting, letters slightly clunky but nevertheless legible. He recaps the pen and places it back in the cup, pleased with his successful signage.

“That’s one done,” she beams.

“Seven more to go,” he responds.

They talk quietly as they continue to wrap his gifts-- a picture book, a set of chunky, toddler-fist sized building blocks, a plush frog, a box of bathtub soaps, a few tubs of play dough, a thick-pieced jigsaw puzzle depicting a rocket ship, and his “big present”, a push-along bicycle-- and Din helps as best he can, holding down junctures of folded paper for her or cutting off strips of tape or signing this and that as he’s asked to.

The bike poses a particular problem to the couple and they sit on the floor and take turns shearing off thin, manageable pieces to try and coat the vehicle in a sort of woven cask of paper, and as they work their conversation continues, voices soft to match the hour of the night.

“I think I got some candy, one year,” Din says absentmindedly, hands busy wrapping the infant-sized handlebars in a layer of puppies-in-yarmulkes-print paper.

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Every so often there were the chocolate coins or those, uh, you know--”

He frowns for a moment, trying to conjure the words to mind, pausing midway through the mummification of the bike. When he catches the memory, he snaps his fingers, smiling with satisfaction.

“Like, the gummy fruit slices? You know? Where they were, I think, supposed to look like oranges most of the time, but some of them would be green or blue or--”

“With the little white strip kinda towards the outside edge?”

“That’s the one!,” Din grins, resuming his wrapping. “We’d have those from time to time. They were always at least a little stale, but I remember them being there when we’d have the bigger gatherings; if there was going to be a group of people over for the meal, usually someone would bring along a box of those fruit slices for us kids.”

“I don’t think I ever ate those,” she remarks, wrapping a thread of the paper around the seat of the bike with careful delicacy, “But I’d see them in stores all the time and wonder about them. They looked good in that sort of ‘imaginary foods’ kind of way.”

“We’ll get some next time we’re out,” Din says. “Gotta at least try ‘em.”

“And we’ll have to get him some applesauce,” she notes, adding to their mental list.

“Yeah, he seems to like the latkes better when we have applesauce with them. Takes after me like that, I guess.”

She looks up to see Din smiling to himself, and she knows that smile well-- it’s the expression he wears when he thinks proudly of his son, when he’s picturing that tiny little face and those big, dark eyes and sweet smile.

Overcome by affection, she reaches her hand out and lays it atop his, stilling him in his work. He turns his head up to face her, at first surprised, and then comforted. He cocks his head to the side and gives her another smile she knows: a smile of love, his eyes tender with attention, hazy with memories.

She interlaces their fingers and leans across the bike, coming face to face with him, and rubs the ball of her nose against his, feeling the tickle of his wispy mustache hairs and the smoothness of his skin. His breath is warm against her face and she sighs, contented.

“You’re a good dad, Din Djarin,” she whispers, feeling him tremble slightly at the words, at the ghost of her voice trailing over his skin.

She feels him nod and push slightly closer, hovering his lips over hers with an intended pause, a permitted distance.

“Thank you,” he rasps back, cowed by modesty.

He hesitates for half a second, a fraction of a moment, until he feels her putting her hand on the side of his face and becomes emboldened-- he presses forward and pushes their lips together, slow and deep and soft, unhurried in his indulgence.

Din allows one hand to tuck under the back of her head, cupping her close as he closes his eyes and savors the moment. He doesn’t care that they’re hunched over their child’s half-wrapped bicycle, nor that it’s well past midnight, nor that his legs and back hurt from sitting at an awkward angle at his workbench all those hours. No, all he can think of is this: her, warm and yielding and loving, her lips against his, a piece of his family, his clan.

They linger with one another for a long moment, then part, lazy and hesitant, hovering mere millimeters away. Din’s fingers trace softly along the base of her skull, brushing the hair at the nape of her neck to great effect. She brushes their noses together again and blinks up at him, gazing into the warm depths of his richly brown eyes as he scans her face with them, flitting from feature to feature to gauge her emotions.

He traces a hand down her shoulders and strokes faintly at the ridges of her spine that he can feel through her pajamas, his touch surprisingly dainty for a man so often entrenched in roughness and power and strength. Charmed, she lays her head on his shoulder, stretching slightly across the width of the bike still situated between them so as to wrap her arms around his neck and press her ear to his chest, both of them still and silent but comfortably so.

Din’s fingers continue to glissade up and down the column of her neck and back, every so often tantalizingly tickling at her sensitive hair and making her shiver, pleased. She squeezes him tight and nuzzles into his chest.

He makes that noise again-- muted but buried, but a rising clearing-- and he shifts, slightly discomposed as he tries to gather his courage. Looking up from his chest, she watches his face as he moves the corners of his mouth, readying himself.

“I, uh,” he starts, cheeks beginning to color slightly, “You know… I love, um, love you very much.”

She pauses, then grins.

“Of course I do, Din.”

“Thank you for helping me,” he mumbles. “And for kissing me. And thinking I’m a good dad.”

At that, she laughs, and Din is taken aback, an abrupt embarrassment overtaking his expression. She sits up and shushes him, putting her hands on either side of his face and pressing pecks all across his cheeks and lips, giggling between kisses.

“No, no, honey, it’s not that,” she titters, amused by his indignant countenance, “It’s just so cute!”

He furrows his brow and frowns.

“You know I’ll always help you,” purrs his wife, brushing one of his downy cocoa-colored curls behind his ear. That seems to melt his icy stiffness, if only a little. “And that I love you so very much. Right?”

At that, he lumberingly nods. She smiles, and joyfully kisses the downturned corners of his pouty lips.

“It’s just so cute that you’d thank me for kissing you,” she says, a glittering edge of adoration tinting her voice. “We’re married!”

Din’s face flushes and he looks down at his hands, wringing his palms slightly. His boyish bashfulness has her heart aflame with affection, and she can’t help but push closer, tipping the bike over slightly as she kisses his face anew, endeared to him beyond words. She kisses the ticklish spot just under his ear and Din lets out a little half-yelp, half-laugh, and she beams up at him, watching his sullen sulk fade away.

“I know we’re married,” he mutters, trying to suppress his mirth. “But it’s still… it still surprises me, sometimes.”

“Oh, honey,” she breathes.

Looking away, Din fumbles a bit and tries to stand up, making it to his feet with some effort as his knees make a slight popping noise. His wife giggles and he casts a sharp look down, preemptively scolding her away from making a joke about his age. Extending a hand to her, Din lifts her to her feet as well, somehow managing to gracefully guide her up and around the bike and directly into his arms, holding her to his chest with no barrier between the two of them.

His fingers worry at the hem of her pajama blouse as he takes pause, his eyes flickering between her face and anywhere else in quick succession. He seems to be trying to take stock of what to say or do, judging his options internally and allowing a silence to grow externally as he assesses his next move. Making a judgement of her own, his beloved puts a hand on his cheek and strokes along the patchy line of stubble starting to form the barebones beginnings of a beard.

“I love you,” she says, clear and confident and unabashed. “Always have, always will.”

A light comes into Din’s eyes, and he ducks his head, pushing his face into the tender crook of her neck and burying himself into her warmth, demuring into her skin with mumbled words and kisses. She feels his hands squeeze at her waist and lift her to his chest, then--

“Oh!”

Din is lifting her and spinning her, a surprisingly excited move from a man usually so reserved and reticent, and she can’t help but let out a bright, cheery peal of laughter, which, she is even more surprised by, is met with equal laughter from her usually severe husband.

His laughter is soft but deep; arid, with a light rumbling chasing each building layer as he lets himself become more and more open with his joy. She can’t help but feel like a shy girl again, in his hands, listening to the sound of his beautiful, unmatched voice as he laughs, only for her, only in her arms; she floats with butterflies as he sets her down and gives her a kiss, his face heated with his characteristic sweet diffidence.

“Sorry,” he murmurs against her lips, not bothering to pull back from her as he speaks. “I just got a little excited.”

“Don’t apologize,” she stammers with a grin.

“And you look so pretty when I pick you up and--”

Pushing forward, she silences his ecstatic stutters with a genial kiss, and listens to him sigh contentedly out through his nose, the sound not dissimilar to that of an old dog being petted in just the right spot.

Just as they begin to mould their lips to one another more deeply, a noise from behind makes Din whip his head around. The monitor he has sitting on his workbench is chirping, relaying sounds from the baby’s room: he’s fussing, stirring in his sleep and making small, plaintive cries. Instantly, Din’s eyes become filled with worry and his countenance shifts from intimate husband to concerned father, and he turns back to his wife, brows knit.

She strokes his jaw and kisses his chin softly.

“It’s alright. He’s just waking a little. But,” she says, putting her hands on her hips and surveying the wrapped gifts, “I suppose we ought to hide these away before the little one can peek at ‘em.”

When the monitor registers another whimper from the baby and Din’s expression becomes even more distressed, she takes his hand and gives it a reassuring squeeze, not letting him slip through her fingers into a mire of his own worries.

“And then, right after, we’ll go check on him. Okay?”

Din nods, a modicum of confidence restored to him when the monitor falls silent and stays so for many moments in a row. He gives her a quick, fleeting phantasm of a smile-- warm and sweet, shy and docile-- and she falls just a little bit more in love with him, the same as she does every time he lets her see that perfect smile of his.

He moves to part from her to start picking up the presents, but she tugs at his hand slightly and holds him back. Casting an inquisitive look over his shoulder, he meets her eyes and has time to blink once before she puts her free hand on his chest and presses up on her toes to lock lips with him.

“Happy holidays, honey,” she hums as their lips part with a delicate sound.

Din blinks, then grins back.

And goes in for another kiss.

#long post #din djarin #original #YES i know it's late (hanukkah is already over) but i wouldn't feel good doing anything Christmasy until i'd done this one!

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purrincess-chat · 4 years

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Will You Be My (Fake) Lover? CH9

It’s finally finished! This chapter is a little angstier than all the others, but it is almost the end. Told you guys I’d be giving Marinette a pixie cut by the end :P I pinky swear they’re gonna be happy next chapter. I promise!

Read on AO3

Chapter 9

“Boo.”

Adrien poked his head through the skylight, and Marinette glanced up from the computer monitor she’d set up for movie night. Her face softened as he climbed up and presented a plate of fresh cookies, and he leaned in to peck her cheek.

“Got everything all set?” He asked, placing the cookies on the cable spool.

“Just about,” she said, flicking the monitor on and waving the mouse.

He held out his arms for her to crawl into his lap, leaning his head against hers while she selected the movie and closed his eyes as she nestled in. It was the perfect night with the perfect girl, and if he had his way, all of this would be real soon enough. He almost had everything he needed to put his plan in motion, and the more nights they spent like this, the more confident he became that she actually liked him back.

His feelings were growing every day. Their goodbyes stretching longer, their good mornings so much warmer, their kisses far more passionate. He loved Marinette so deeply, and he hoped more than anything that she loved him too. He couldn’t bare being rejected this time. Ladybug was one thing, but if Marinette didn’t love him, his heart just might shatter having come this far.

“What?” She asked, tilting her head to the side, and he blinked.

“What?”

“You’re staring at me,” she said, and he felt his cheeks warm.

“Sorry,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just can’t help it. You’re cute.”

Then it was her turn to blush, and a satisfied smile curled on his lips. Marinette had always flustered easily, but he liked to pretend that it was because she liked him too. He said things like that often just to see her fumble because for a minute he could hope. Plus, it was cute to see her cheeks flush as pink as the flowers on her shirt.

“I’m not even doing anything,” she said, her shrill tone conveying her embarrassment.

“You’re always cute to me,” he said, leaning down to peck her cheek. “You’re just cute.”

“You’re cute too,” she said, reaching to cup his face.

“Then I guess that means we’re perfect for each other,” he murmured, resting his forehead against hers and teasing her lips with his own. He sighed in breathy delight when she claimed them for herself.

Soon nights like this would be real. Soon he’d tell her just how breathless she made him. Soon they wouldn’t have to pretend. Soon.

***

Marinette laid back against her pillows that night with a sigh, face hot. She stared up at her skylight, picking at the necklace Adrien had given her until Tikki floated over with a questioning look.

“What’s wrong, Marinette?” She asked, lowering onto her master’s stomach.

“It’s Adrien,” she said, sitting up and cupping the kwami in her hands. “Lately, I feel like…he’s different. Like, he actually likes me, and I don’t know if it’s just that we’ve gotten used to this charade or if it’s just wishful thinking or...”

“You two have been together a while,” Tikki said pointedly, and Marinette flicked her gaze over to the picture she’d cut from their fairytale spread tacked to her corkboard.

“Almost 3 months now,” she said, pursing her lips. “I don’t want to get my hopes up. I mean, am I crazy thinking that he’s been different ever since the gala? First he started buying me all these gifts, which I thought was just guilt, but then he said all that stuff in the locker room, and I catch him staring at me sometimes with this look on his face like…like the way I used to look at him.”

“Maybe he’s fallen for you for real,” Tikki said and Marinette’s heart skipped at the thought.

“Do you really think so, Tikki?” She asked. “Do you really think Adrien is in love with me?”

“Why wouldn’t he be, Marinette? You’re smart and kind, and you’ve been by his side this whole time. I’m sure he feels differently about you now than he did three months ago,” Tikki said, floating up to brush her cheek.

Marinette’s cheeks flushed, and she smiled at the lucky charm he’d made for her birthday resting on her shelf next to his picture. They’d come a long way since then, and she had to wonder how effective that charm was if she’d gotten herself into this mess. But maybe this was how things were supposed to play out. Maybe Tikki was right, and Adrien was in love with her now. Maybe…if she was lucky.

She shot forward with a smile, crawling from her bed as an image formed in her mind.

“What are you doing?” Tikki asked as she moved to her sewing machine.

“I’m going to make Adrien a gift, and this time, I’m going to tell him how I really feel.”

***

Adrien hummed on the way to his locker, his fingers tracing over imaginary keys. Her song had been playing on loop in his brain ever since the gala, and he spent most of his free time perfecting it these days. It had evolved a lot since he played it for her the first time just like his feelings had since then. It would be his final gift to her as her fake boyfriend and the first gift he’d give her as her real one. Hopefully.

“My, my, don’t you seem happy,” a sultry voice crooned, and Adrien’s spine stiffened.

“What do you want, Lila?” He asked without turning around, busying himself with shuffling things in his locker.

She’d been avoiding him ever since the night at the gala, but it was only a matter of time before she came back. She wasn’t going to take what happened lightly, despite having got off easy. Her thirst for revenge was unquenchable in that sense, and unfortunately for Adrien and Marinette, it was personal.

“Oh, nothing,” she said, twirling on her heels and leaning against the locker beside his. The small hairs on the back of his neck prickled, but he continued to face his locker with a steely expression much to her amusement. “That’s not a very pretty face.”

“I’m not exactly in pretty company,” he said, pulling his fencing lamé from his bag.

“I’m insulted, Adrien! Is that anyway to talk to a friend?” She asked, placing a hand on her chest. “You did say we’re friends, didn’t you?”

“I think you and I have different definitions of what constitutes friendship, and to be honest, I’m not really that interested in yours,” he said, not bothering to mask the bite in his voice.

“What a shame. And here I thought you were trying to convince everyone that you care about Marinette,” she said, examining her nails.

Adrien slammed the locker, meeting her taunting gaze head on with a glare. “If you so much as lay one finger on Marinette-”

“You’ll do what?” Lila asked with a laugh, but she shrank a little when he stepped toward her.

“I’ll end this little game of yours for good and tell everyone who you really are,” he said, and her shoulders relaxed, that crooked grin returning.

“Oh, I’m sure you will,” she said in a tone that was anything but convinced.

“Don’t test me, Lila. I’m done with your games and letting you walk wherever you please. If you do anything to Marinette, I’ll make sure you regret it,” he said, hands balling into fists.

Lila pushed away from the lockers, sauntering back up the aisle. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to do anything to Marinette,” she said, pausing at the end to cast a smirk over her shoulder. “You’re going to destroy your relationship yourself.”

“Lila-”

“Toodles!” She waved with a sadistic giggle, leaving Adrien seething in her wake.

Adrien suspected that Lila had only been biding her time, waiting for the right moment to strike, but he wasn’t going to let her get away so easily this time. If Lila tried anything, he’d put an end to her reign and make sure no one fell victim to her lies again. White lies he could ignore, but Lila was threatening the people he loved, and that he couldn’t forgive. But it didn’t matter anyway. She was too late.

“Adrien?” Marinette’s voice echoed from the front doors of the locker room, and she appeared around the corner. Her smile melted away the bulk of his anger, and as he stooped to kiss her, his shoulders relaxed. “You okay? I saw Lila walk out, and…I got worried.”

“I’m fine. She’s just being her usual self and trying to get in my head, but it’s not gonna work,” he said, shaking his head as if to sift the lingering dread like sand. “I’m working on a surprise for you.”

“Adrien, I thought we talked about all the gifts,” she said with a laugh, and she ran her hands down his arms until her fingers twined with his. “What’s the occasion?”

“Friday is our 3-month anniversary, so I thought that maybe you could come over for dinner,” he said, giving her hands a squeeze. “Nathalie already cleared it, so I mean, if you want to come, that is.”

“That sounds nice. I’d love to,” she said, and Adrien’s stomach filled with butterflies under her warm gaze.

When she looked at him like that, he truly believed that she loved him too, and in just a few days, they’d be together for real, far beyond Lila’s reach. Together. In love. Safe.

***

“You’re awfully smiley,” Alya remarked that afternoon in Marinette’s bedroom. Textbooks and notes littered the floor around them, and Marinette bit her lip, unsuccessfully masking the very smile Alya was teasing.

“Adrien invited me over for dinner on Friday to celebrate being together for 3 months,” she said with a shrug. “And I’m really happy.”

“Ya know, they say 3 months is when a relationship gets real. If a couple can survive 3 months together, then they’re statistically more likely to stay together long-term,” Alya said, leaning against her fist. “You two have been through a lot together, but it’s only made you two stronger. Honestly, you two are such relationship goals.”

“Oh, y-yeah, we just stay honest with each other, and things have just worked out,” Marinette said, and when Alya seemed satisfied, she averted her gaze. “I just…I really love him, and on Friday I…I hope I can tell him how much he really means to me.”

“Aww, girl, I’m sure Adrien knows your feelings for him are real. Nino says he talks about you a lot, and anyone with eyes can see how much you two adore each other.” Alya draped an arm over her shoulders. “You two are going to be just fine moving forward. Hey, let’s plan another double date soon. We can go ice skating, or I hear there’s a new painting coming to the Louvre for a little while soon, we can go-”

Marinette leaned her head against Alya’s with a contented sigh. For the first time since this started, she felt completely at ease. All of those schemes she planned never quite turned out how she wanted because she was always worried that Adrien would reject her, but as Friday approached, she didn’t feel afraid. She was going to tell him her true feelings once and for all, and she knew that this time would be different. On Friday, everything would change.

- - -

From the moment she woke up that morning, Marinette’s stomach fluttered with butterflies. Tonight was the night she finally told Adrien her most precious feelings. After dinner there would be no more secrets or lies, and tonight would be their first night as a real couple. She was sure of it.

Maybe it was the feeling hanging in the air as she walked to school, or the shy smile that Adrien gave her as he waited for her at the base of the stairs just like always. Their good morning kiss was soft, comfortable, familiar, and it carried all of her unspoken feelings waiting to burst free.

“Are we still on for tonight?” He asked when they broke away, lingering close.

“Of course! I’m looking forward to it,” she said, picturing the gift she’d slaved over for the past several days in preparation for this very moment. She’d known from the beginning that she’d have to tell Adrien the truth eventually, and tonight was the perfect time. She was ready.

“Me too. I have a Chinese lesson right after school, but you can come over around 6 that way we can spend some time together before dinner,” he said, pecking her cheek. “Is that okay?”

“Yeah, I’ll be there,” she said, and his gaze softened in the same way it always did lately. Those soft smiles were meant just for her.

“Earth to the lovebirds, but you still have a full day of school before the festivities,” Alya cut in, and she and Nino gave them chiding looks as the bell rang.

Adrien took her hand, twining their fingers together as they walked, and Marinette thought about Alya’s words.

Anyone with eyes can see that you two adore each other.

She paid attention to the way Adrien’s hand griped hers tighter just before he let go to take his seat. The longing look he gave her before he turned around when Mlle. Bustier entered. How often he touched her when they were standing together during breaks, reaching for the hem of her blazer or rubbing her shoulders, touching her hair, her cheek, her hand. He barely seemed to notice he was doing it, or if he did, he didn’t show it. Adrien really did play the part of devoted and adoring boyfriend perfectly. Too perfectly, and Marinette had to hold onto hope that it was because he’d dropped the act and fallen for real.

“I’ll see you in a little while, okay?” He said that afternoon, standing on the curb.

“Yeah, see you soon,” she said, stretching up to kiss him before he climbed into his town car.

She watched the car pull away, heart fluttering, then turned to head home and prepare for the evening. She needed to look her best when telling Adrien her feelings. She had to wash her hair, find her lucky socks, make sure that every single stitch was perfect for his-

“That’s her.” Marinette paid little mind to the girls outside the bakery until they stepped into her path.

“You’re Marinette Dupain-Cheng, right?” One of them asked, and Marinette blinked out of her trance.

“Uh, yeah, why?” She asked, glancing between them. Something in the way they stood put her on edge. Her spine pricked, and the little hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. If she was certain of one thing it was that these girls were trouble.

The girl in the middle sized her up, and Marinette squared her shoulders under her disapproving glare.

“I don’t get what Adrien sees in a girl like you,” she said, and her cohorts echoed their agreement.

“Excuse me?” Marinette bristled.

“Your parents own a stupid bakery, and Adrien is a famous model. You don’t deserve someone like him,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Yeah! You’re just using him!” Another sneered, and Marinette’s jaw clenched.

“Adrien and I were friends long before we started dating, and he’s not shallow like that. He doesn’t care where I come from. He likes me for me,” she said, surprising herself with how confident she sounded.

“Adrien is a perfect angel, and he’s too naïve to see when someone is taking advantage of him,” the leader said, and it took every ounce of Marinette’s willpower not to transform into Ladybug and string the three of them up from the Eiffel Tower with her yoyo.

“I’m not taking advantage of him!” She shot back instead.

“Oh yeah? Then what’s this?” One of the other girls yanked the chain around Marinette’s neck, snapping it free. “Looks expensive.”

Marinette rubbed the sore spot, reaching for her necklace with the other. “Give it back! That was a gift!”

“I’m sure it was. Adrien probably doesn’t think twice about buying you whatever expensive thing you ask for,” the third girl said while the other dangled her necklace tauntingly.

“Give it back!” Marinette grabbed for it, but they yanked it away.

“You don’t deserve Adrien, so do us all a favor and break up with him already,” one girl said.

“What’s going on out here?” Marinette’s father pulled open the door and placed his hands on his hips.

“These girls took my necklace,” Marinette said, pointing to the second girl who stuck her tongue out.

“Now, ladies, taking things that don’t belong to you isn’t very-”

“You’ll never deserve Adrien, you tramp!” The third girl screamed, shoving Marinette into the window.

“Hey! Get your hands off my daughter,” Tom said, stepping between them, and while his back was turned, the second girl knocked over the macaron display right inside the door, scattering tiny cookies across the bakery floor. “Hey!”

Marinette managed to throw off her aggressor, but with her father’s attention torn, neither one saw the ringleader with the scissors until it was too late. She heard the snip in her ear as black hair fell to her feet, and her hand flew up to the pigtail, now a prickly nub. The leader smirked, waving the black strands in her hands.

“There’s no way Adrien stays with you now, ugly girl,” she sneered before the three ran off with Tom in pursuit.

Sabine rushed out as Marinette sank to her knees, pawing at her hair. Hot tears trailed down her cheeks, and her mother pulled her in tight, whispering reassurances. She’d faced some backlash from dating Adrien during all of this, but not like this. Never like this.

“They got away on the subway,” Tom said when he came back, leaning against the door frame and panting. “Sweetie, are you okay?”

Marinette stared down at the broken chain among her hair on the ground, the shock wearing off, and she shook her head.

“Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up,” Sabine said, helping her to her feet. “It’s alright, sweetie. You’re alright.”

But she wasn’t. In that moment, Marinette was anything but alright, and her magical night with Adrien seemed lightyears away.

***

Adrien glanced at his phone again, pacing the length of the dining room for the dozenth time. Red roses lined the center of the table, flickering candles casting shadows on the walls. The house smelled of meats and rich chocolate, the kitchen clattering while the chefs worked just as they did every night, and Adrien’s stomach growled.

He glanced at the clock with a frown. Marinette was running late which wasn’t that unusual, but tonight of all nights, he really wanted her to hurry up. After fifteen minutes, he decided to give her a call. Maybe a playful bit of encouragement could get her there faster, but to his surprise, Alya answered.

“Hey, Adrien,” she said with a sigh.

“Alya?” His eyebrows knitted together. “Is Marinette with you?”

“Yeah…she’s here, and you might want to get over here too,” she said, and Adrien didn’t like her tone.

“Why? What’s wrong?” He stopped short.

“It’s…better if you come. Marinette’s really upset.”

His heart pounded the whole way, his leg bouncing while people crossed the street at a snail’s pace. As they approached the bakery, blue lights flashed in the windows, and Adrien leaned up to see a police car parked outside. Barley waiting for Gorilla to stop, he leapt from the car and raced to the front door where Mr. Dupain was talking to Officer Raincomprix. Mme. Cheng was sweeping broken glass and macarons, and when she saw him, her face fell.

“What’s going on? Where’s Marinette?” He asked, and she pulled him inside.

“There was a little incident. Some girls…Some girls didn’t think that you and Marinette were right for one another, and they made it known,” Sabine said, and Adrien glanced down at the pile she’d been sweeping. Broken glass, crushed macarons, and hair. “We had to cut a lot of it to get the sides even. Marinette is pretty shaken up. She’s upstairs in her room.”

Adrien’s stomach churned, and for a moment he thought he might be sick. But he put one foot in front of the other up the stairs. Nino was sitting on the chaise when Adrien climbed through the trap door, and he grimaced, nodding up to the loft where Alya sat rubbing a lump under the blankets. The soft sniffles grew louder as Adrien made his way up, and Alya glanced up with that same expression that Mme. Cheng had given him. They could try to mask it all they wanted, but Adrien recognized it for what it was: pity.

“She won’t come out. Mme. Cheng had to cut her hair pretty short,” Alya said, and the blob under the blanket wailed louder.

“Yeah, apparently some crazy fans of yours demanded that she break up with you then cut one of her pigtails off so that you’d dump her,” Nino explained with a wince. “Mega harsh, dude. I don’t envy you.”

Adrien cupped a hand over his mouth, and Alya reached out to him.

“It’s not your fault, Adrien. Don’t blame yourself,” she assured him, and he flicked his gaze to the lump she was comforting.

He crawled over to rub what he presumed was her back, but she recoiled at his touch, burrowing deeper beneath the sheets. His heart sank, and he bit his lip to hold back tears. Everything was ruined now. Marinette would never love the boy who dragged her into all of this. All he’d ever done was cause her problems, and he’d been a fool to think she could ever love him.

“I’m really sorry, Marinette. I understand if you want me to leave,” he murmured, shifting to crawl off the bed, but before he could move, a hand reached out to grab his wrist.

Her fingers shook, but she gripped tightly, silently pleading for him to stay. He eased back down, lowering his lips to her hand and lacing their fingers together. After a moment, she shifted and sat up, covering her head with the blanket but peeking her face out. Her eyes were red and puffy, bearing a look of defeat that would haunt Adrien for weeks.

No matter what anyone else said, he was the one that did this to her. Maybe not directly, but if he hadn’t lied to Nathalie then they wouldn’t be in this position in the first place. If he had just sucked it up and told the truth, then Marinette wouldn’t have gotten hurt.

“Can we see your hair cut?” Alya asked, brushing Marinette’s cheek with the back of her finger, but Marinette buried her face in her knees.

“No!” She cried, and Alya sat back.

“Your mom said it was actually kinda cute,” Nino offered, but when that seemed to make it worse, Alya shot him a glare.

“I look like my grandma,” she blubbered, and Alya moved beside her with a smile.

“But your grandma is cool,” she said, rubbing her back. “Come on out. Please?”

A hoarse whine rumbled in her throat, and Adrien nestled into her other side, resting his head on hers. She was small, he realized, so tiny and broken, and it was all his fault.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured in her ear, and she peeked around the blanket at him.

“Stop saying that,” she said, running a hand across her face. “It’s not your fault.”

“Yeah, but…” He glanced over at Alya and Nino and bit his tongue. “I still feel bad.”

Marinette eyed him a moment before slowly removing the blanket and fussing with her dark hair, not much longer than Rose’s now. She twirled a few short strands around her fingers with a frown while Alya studied her.

“It’s not bad. You do look cute,” she said, and Marinette shot her a look as if she didn’t believe her.

“You’re always beautiful to me,” Adrien said, cupping her face in his hands. “No matter what.”

She leaned into his touch and closed her eyes, breathing him in. After a moment, she wrapped her arms around his neck and rested her head on his shoulder. He held her close, and as he trailed his fingers through her hair, his chest tightened. He hated being so helpless and wished more than anything that he could turn back the clock. That he could be there to stop it. That he never asked her to do this in the first place. This was all his fault.

Maybe this was karma for lying to everyone. The universe was punishing him for being dishonest instead of just telling Nathalie the truth. Just like his Miraculous, he only brought destruction and misfortune everywhere he went, and perhaps it would be better for everyone if he kept his distance. At least then no one could get hurt because of him.

“Tell you what, you and I can go shopping for some cute hats this weekend. We can get all kinds of cute hair accessories too,” Alya said, rubbing Marinette’s back, and the girl in his arms gave a weak nod. “It’s gonna be okay, M. You guys have dealt with crazy fans before. You’ll make it through this time.”

“I’m gonna say something. I can’t sit by if people think this is okay,” Adrien said, shaking his head. “Anyone who would do this isn’t a fan of mine, and I won’t let them get away with it. I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

“Yeah, because this has moved way past mean comments online,” Nino said with a grunt, and at Adrien’s wince added, “but I’m sure if you clear things up, people will chill.”

“Just tell everyone the truth, and I’m sure they’ll back off,” Alya said with a nod, and Adrien and Marinette both stiffened.

Unbeknownst to Alya and Nino, the truth was a luxury neither of them could afford. Theirs was a secret that, if leaked, would only make things worse, and no matter if he told it or not, Marinette would always be at risk if she was associated with him. Real or fake, he wasn’t safe for her.

Nino’s phone pinged, and he held it up to Alya with a wince. “We’ve gotta go pick up Chris and your sisters.”

“Yeah, Nora has a training session tonight, so we have to go relieve her, but I’ll come over tomorrow, okay?” Alya said, giving Marinette’s hand a squeeze.

Adrien felt his own phone buzz in his pocket, but it barely registered. Nathalie was probably wondering where he was, and if he didn’t leave soon, his father would get antsy. Marinette seemed to recognize what it meant, and Adrien realized that even if their relationship was fake, the connection they’d formed over the past few months wasn’t.

Marinette knew him better than anyone. She knew his schedule, his nightly routines, what foods he didn’t like, which alarms meant it was time to go and which ones didn’t. It shouldn’t have surprised him when she sat up and nudged him forward with a small smile that glowed faintly with that gentle affection he especially didn’t deserve after this.

“I’ll be fine,” she said, and he wasn’t sure if that was for his benefit or her own. Both, he deduced. “Come on. I’ll walk you out.”

They were quiet on the walk down, even the clamor of their footsteps seemed muted. It might have been the hurt lingering in the air, or maybe neither one knew what to say. But Adrien was already piecing his thoughts together, and he knew that this charade had gone on long enough. That the costs had far outnumbered the benefits, and their relationship was far more trouble than it was worth. Even if he asked her to be his real girlfriend, trouble would always follow them, and he couldn’t put Marinette through that.

“Guess our dinner date got ruined,” she said finally once they reached the bottom of the stairs, and when Adrien stepped through the door, she leaned against the threshold. “Maybe we can try again tomorrow.”

Adrien lowered his gaze to his shoes, kicking at the pavement with pursed lips.

“Marinette…I don’t want to do this anymore,” he said, flicking his gaze up to hers briefly before looking away again. “I’m tired of lying to everyone and pretending that this is real when it isn’t. I never wanted any of this to happen, and I never would have asked you to do this if I’d known you’d get hurt.”

“Adrien-”

“I can’t do this, Marinette,” he said, taking her hands in his, desperate green eyes baring into hers. “You’re too important to me, and I don’t want you getting hurt because of me anymore. I’m so sorry I ever dragged you into this.”

“Adrien, I made my choice. We can still do this,” she pleaded, but he was already shaking his head. “I don’t want to break up. Please.”

“Don’t think of it like breaking up. This was never even real.” He shrugged. “I have to draw the line somewhere, Marinette, and I’m drawing it right here. You got hurt, and that’s game over. I’m done.” He reached out to cup her cheek. “For what it’s worth, I’ve really liked being your boyfriend, even if it was all pretend, and I’m glad that you and I have gotten so close. I just hope that when things settle down that we can still be friends.”

“Of course,” she said, leaning into his touch as a single tear sliced down her cheek. “We’ll always be friends.”

“I won’t tell everyone that this was fake. I don’t want everyone to think you pressured me into this or something crazy. I just want you safe,” he said, and she nodded, pressing her lips together and wiping her eyes.

“I liked it too,” she said, clasping her hands together. “Being your girlfriend, I really liked it. Spending so much time with you…made me really happy.”

He pulled her in for a tight hug, breathing in her scent one last time. What he wouldn’t have given to freeze that moment and live in it forever, but they’d run out of time. Marinette had never really been his, and she never would be. How could she ever love the boy who ruined her life?

“We’ll probably have to avoid each other for a while until the breakup fizzles out, but after that, I want to keep spending time together. All of this has shown me what a good friend you are, and I want us to stay that way,” he said, pulling away. “Thank you for everything you’ve done for me, Marinette. If anyone isn’t deserving here, it’s me.”

He stooped down and pressed a soft kiss to her cheek, lingering close for just a moment longer.

“Good night, Marinette.”

- - -

Hey guys, I know I usually keep these Instagram posts upbeat, but something happened that I need to talk about. For the past 3 months, I’ve been dating a good friend of mine, and tonight some people decided that they knew what was best for me, so I want to be abundantly clear: Marinette is a very dear friend of mine, and all of the rumors going around about her are false. She is a wonderful and genuine person, and someone I’ve deeply admired ever since we met. She didn’t deserve what happened to her, and it breaks my heart to see someone I care about get hurt. That is why I have chosen to end our relationship tonight because I can’t stand to see her get hurt anymore. Please be respectful and kind to her. She is one of my best friends and doesn’t deserve all the hate. I have all the love in the world for her, and I hope that she will forgive me for what I’ve done. -A

Marinette hugged her knees to her chest and sighed, letting her phone fall onto her bed. Friday certainly had changed everything, but not in the way she was hoping. She’d known for a long time that their relationship wasn’t sustainable, but the hopeful part of her had wished for a happily ever after with her prince. She should have known better. Adrien was just as far away as he always was, and she was no closer to a fairytale ending now than she was 3 months ago.

She didn’t blame him. He was only doing what he thought was best. It wasn’t his fault that she was really in love with him, and in a way, it was really sweet of him to protect her. Despite everything, she couldn’t bring herself to be mad at him even if she should be. She’d suffer through a world of demons for the sake of an angel.

When her phone rang, she glanced down at the caller ID – Alya – and lifted it to her ear. It was only a matter of time before everyone called with their condolences. After all, their relationship was real to everyone else, and Marinette had to remind herself that they weren’t done pretending.

“Hey,” she said, voice devoid of emotion. “I take it you saw Adrien’s post.”

“Yeah, and that’s not the only thing I saw,” Alya said, and Marinette traced the caution in her voice. “Someone recorded your convo with Adrien outside and uploaded it. Why didn’t you tell me your relationship was fake?”

“What?”

#miraculous ladybug #marinette dupain-cheng #adrien agreste #adrinette #adrienette #my writing #fake dating au

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sofreakinmanyfandoms · 5 years

Text

November 14 - We’re Gonna Go Flirt with Superheroes

Some important notes:

1. Thank you to my amazing friend Dean for letting me use their delightful self as a character in this fic. You may all be jealous that I actually know this person.

2. Because Dean does not have the cleanest of language, this fic has significantly more swearing than anything else I've posted here. I still only put half as much language as normally spews from their mouth. Love you, babe.

3. I've never actually been to a hipster bar and it's been years since I've been to Portland. Please forgive me for any obvious errors.

4. I normally shy away from describing the reader too much, but honestly? I needed this. I needed to explore a bit what it's like being straight but looking gay, because while it's nothing compared to what the LGBT+ community goes through, it's something I get a lot of grief for from my conservative Christian extended family. I needed a fic where the main girl has short hair, okay? Okay.

Thanks for letting me vent myself in this fic.

Word count: 2416

Warnings: Language, mentions of cheating, if you’re homophobic you’ll hate this one so go suck an egg

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X short haired!hipster!Reader

“Ah, Portland,” Sam said with a sigh, looking around at the bar that was definitely owned by someone very hipster. “Remind me again why we’re here?”

“It was the closest city with the material Stark needs to fix the jet,” Steve reminded him. “He’ll have it ready by morning and we’ll be on our way back to the compound.”

“Friends,” Thor declared cheerily, throwing his arms around their shoulders, “despite our transport’s destruction, we have won a great victory this day! Let us celebrate, even if your Midgardian drinks are weaker than mother’s milk.”

Bucky followed behind them, feeling out of place as he took in the décor. The floor and ceiling were concrete, but the walls had been coated in what looked like disassembled pallets with wooden booths build out of the walls. The free-standing tables were giant spools and he was pretty sure no two chairs in the whole building matched. Whoever had been in charge of decorating had even taken the chalkboard menu trope to the extreme, making the whole wall behind the bar a blackboard instead of just hanging one up. Everything was decked out in old – sorry, “recycled” – netting and buoys, presumably ones that had seen actual use based on their condition. Also, Bucky had never seen so much flannel in his life.

He settled into a booth with Sam as Steve and Thor went to get their drinks. The other man was looking around, a determined expression on his face.

“Here’s where we get to the hard part,” Sam whispered to him. “Now we’ve gotta figure out which women are gay and which are just fashionable.

Bucky furrowed his eyebrows at his friend. “I don’t understand.”

Sam leaned back and nodded to the bar. “Well, normally you see a woman in skinny jeans, a plaid flannel, and a beanie? She’s a lesbian. But we’re in Portland, where that’s everyone’s style, so it gets harder. Like the chick on the end of the bar? Pixie cut, slouchy beanie, band tee that’s probably for some local group her friend is in under her open flannel, black jeans that look painted on, and totally ignoring the prime male specimens currently ordering our drinks in favor of her cell phone? Definitely gay. But that chick over there,” he subtly pointed to a nearly identically-dressed girl, shorter and with longer hair, who had definitely noticed Steve and Thor’s presence, “is either straight or bi. I can work with either of those.”

Snorting at his friend’s explanation, Bucky flashed a quick look back at the woman at the end of the bar. Sam was probably right. Too bad; she was beautiful, and he wouldn’t have minded getting to know her better.

----------

You sighed at your phone and shifted on your seat at the end of the bar. Your friend was late again; they were always late. According to the text chain you were receiving nearly non-stop, they were also probably already drunk, not that that was surprising anymore.

“Come on, Dean,” you muttered under your breath. “I need you here before he shows up.”

Five minutes later, your friend stumbled through the door, giggling madly at, well, you didn’t want to know what. They stumbled their way over to you and collapsed onto a stool.

“Why are we here?” Dean immediately began complaining. “I stick out like a sore thumb. I’m more goth than hipster, you know that.”

“We’re here because I nanny for the owner part-time so the drinks are free,” you pointed out, rolling your eyes. “You know fully well that any place becomes your scene when you don’t have to pay for alcohol.”

“True,” Dean replied with another giggle. “I didn’t have to pay at the last place either, because I’m fucking hot. Three guys and two girls bought me drinks.”

“Aaand, that’s it, you’re cut off for the night,” you sighed, asking the bartender for a coffee for your definitely drunk friend. “You did kill your makeup tonight, though. It looks great.”

“Damn right it does,” they slurred. “Hey, how come you didn’t tell me? I’d have gotten here a hell of a lot sooner if you’d told me there were Avengers in the building.”

You followed your friend’s line of sight to where there were in fact four members of the Avengers seated in a booth.

“Oh… I didn’t notice them.”

Dean scoffed and gave you that knowing look that you really hated. “You got lost in your phone again, didn’t you? Just in case he showed up.” The blush on your face was enough of an answer. “Damn it, woman, he’s a fucking asshole who never deserved you and I’d have killed him already if you weren’t so fucking concerned with whether or not things are legal.” They downed the rest of their coffee with a grimace and pushed themselves off the bar, grabbing for your hand. “Come on. We’re gonna go flirt with superheroes.”

Your eyes widened in horror. “Oh no. I am not going to talk to the Avengers with you while you’re drunk.”

Dean’s eyes narrowed as they looked at you. “Then you have to promise me you’ll sing karaoke tonight. You haven’t done it since that bastard criticized your voice, and I miss hearing it. You’re fucking good, and you let that fucking moron rob us all of your beautiful songbird-ness.”

“I hope you realize how drunk you sound.”

“Do we have a deal or not? Because if I’m going to give up a shot at fucking Thor, it had better be for a good reason.”

You sighed. Your friend was always stubborn like this. “Fine, we have a deal.”

“Awesome! I get to pick your song.”

“Aw, hell, no…”

----------

Your ex showed up right before karaoke started as he always did.

“Look at the smug asshole,” Dean muttered into the drink they’d somehow managed to get despite your best efforts. They put on a comically feminine voice and mimicked, “I must sing every chance I get, for my voice is God’s gift to mankind and to deprive people of the joy of listening to it would be blasphemy of the highest fucking order!”

“Dean,” you sighed, “please behave. You’ve already gotten me to agree to singing again. You don’t need to start a scene with him, too.”

“I should cut off his fucking dick for cheating on you.”

Because you knew Dean, you were concerned they meant it. “Don’t. He did me a favor, helping me realize he wasn’t worth it. Now, did you sign me up for karaoke already, or do I need to do it?”

The grin they flashed you was even more concerning when paired with how much they’d had to drink. “I signed us both up. After you sing your mystery song – yes, you’ll have enough of an intro to figure out what it is and come in on time, they put the lyrics up anyway, you’ll be fine – I’ll blow your performance out of the water with a spectacular rendition of ‘Bang, Bang.’ Your ex won’t know what hit him.”

“I’m sure he won’t,” you said dryly, only to be horrified when your name was called first as karaoke started.

Dean laughed at the glare you threw them. “Go blow them all away with your magical voice, darling!”

“Y/N,” the bar’s owner said into his mic when you stepped up on stage. “It’s been far too long, m’lady! Ladies and gentlemen, for the first time in a few months, it’s the lovely Y/N singing ‘Shake It Off’!”

“Really, Dean?” you asked, picking up your mic. “All the songs in the world to choose from and that’s the one you picked for me?” The regulars laughed at your teasing as Dean raised their beer in salute. Almost before you had a moment to collect yourself, the music was off and you could feel your ex studying you from his seat near the back with his new woman draped across him. You shut him out of your mind and focus and launched yourself into the song, determined to have fun even if you weren’t really drunk enough to do a Taylor Swift song for karaoke.

----------

Bucky hadn’t been paying attention to much other than his beer until the karaoke started. Their booth was set up at the perfect spot for watching the stage, and he chided himself for the way his heart jumped when you stepped on stage.

“Really, Dean?” you joked, shooting a look at your friend who did not look like – he? She? Bucky couldn’t tell which – would be interested in hanging out in a bar like this. Then you took a deep breath and wow, your whole demeanor changed as you started singing. It was like the song took over you and you had an entirely different energy about you.

“I go on too many dates, but I can’t make ‘em stay,” you sang, and Bucky watched you work the stage, using the mic stand to your theatrical advantage even as you held the mic in your hand. He’d say you were hamming it up for the crowd, but there was something about your performance that said maybe some of the words were hitting a little too close to home for you to be too flippant with them.

“My ex man brought his new girlfriend,” and he didn’t miss the way your eyes flickered to a couple in the back. “And to the fella over there with the hella good hair, why don’t you come on over baby? We can shake, shake, shake.”

He almost choked on his beer, because he could swear that during that last line you had looked over and winked at him in a very “I’m not a lesbian and I want to climb you like a tree” type way. Bucky’s eyes quickly flickered to Sam to see if the other man caught it, but if he had, he wasn’t giving any indication of it.

It had to have been the performance, right? You were just working the audience. When the song ended, he made sure to applaud, and soon your friend (Dean, the announcer called them) was on stage singing like they were, well, as hammered as they looked.

----------

“Come ooooonnnn,” Dean whined, tugging on your sleeve. “Y/N, they’re in town and they’re in this bar and Thor’s so hot I’m surprised I don’t have a sunburn yet. I can’t talk to them alone. Come flirt with me.”

Your friend wasn’t going to give up anytime soon, so you slammed back the rest of your drink and stood.

“Fine,” you said, “but if you look like you’re going to puke on an Avenger at any point I’m dragging you home.”

“Yay!” they cheered, immediately pulling you over to their table and sliding into the booth next to Thor. “Hello, gentlemen of the Avengers. My name is Dean, I’m genderfluid and pansexual and would gladly climb any of you. This is Y/N and she’s a straight prude but if you give her enough alcohol you might be able to get a nice make-out session with her.”

You groaned and rubbed your face with your hand. “Sorry for my friend here. They passed merely being drunk an hour before karaoke started.”

“Pleasure to meet you both,” Captain America (YOU WERE TALKING TO CAPTAIN AMERICA?!?) said. “I’m Steve, and this is Bucky, Sam, and Thor.”

“Hi, Thor.” Dean batted their eyelashes and you choked back a snerk.

Bucky pushed at Sam and the two slid a little further back in the booth, making space for you to sit next to the soldier. He motioned to the seat and you slid next to him hesitantly.

“Sorry for interrupting your evening,” you apologized quietly, although Dean had long since tuned you out in favor of attempting to seduce the god of thunder. “Dean gets an idea their head and I’m basically stuck along for the ride.”

“It’s no problem,” Sam said smoothly. “I do have one question, though. Are you really straight?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, and Bucky thought that might be the nicest sound he’d ever heard. “Yes, I’m really straight. Most people are surprised, but my sense of style wasn’t enough to keep jerks from hitting on me so I got a haircut and fell in love with the style. It’s let me fly under the radar a lot more frequently, which is nice.”

“I can’t imagine how,” Bucky said, a blush creeping up his cheeks. “You’re beautiful.”

Before you could thank him, a voice to your left made you freeze.

“Y/N.”

Dean’s attention was snapped away from Thor and they stared down your ex. “Listen, asshole –”

“Dean.” You held up a finger to stop your friend before they made too much of a scene before entirely turning to your ex. “What do you want, Daniel?”

“It’s free karaoke time,” he crooned, ignoring how unwanted he obviously was. “I thought maybe we could do a duet together, for old time’s sake?”

You affixed him with a glare that would whither a plant. “Why on earth would I want to be reminded of our time together?”

That seemed to shake his confidence a bit. “I’m just being friendly,” he snapped.

“You don’t know how to just be friendly. We’re over, Daniel, so get over it already. If you really wanted me, you wouldn’t have cheated.”

“I believe you heard the lady,” Thor cut in before Daniel could reply. “She wishes for you to leave her alone, and I suggest you abide by her wishes.

For the first time he seemed to notice who you were sitting with, and he sulked off back to his date.

“Well,” Sam broke the silence that had fallen over the table, “I’m guessing that relationship being over is a good thing?”

You nodded. “Thank you,” you told Thor. “I appreciate the support.”

“Anytime, m’lady.”

----------

“Do you want to talk about it?” Bucky asked you softly a few minutes later when you had yet to join the table’s renewed conversation.

You shook your head. “He was a jerk who cheated on me so I got out. It was a long time ago.”

“How could anyone throw away someone like you?”

The earnest way he said it made you blush.

“His loss,” you whispered shyly.

Bucky only paused a moment before asking, “Could I make his loss my gain?”

“I’d like that,” you said with a smile. “I’d like that very much.”

#30 days of avengers one shots #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #Winter Soldier #reader #reader insert #portland #portland oregon #hipster #bar #karaoke #taylor swift #language #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #masterlist #i still suck at tagging

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gigiree · 7 years

Text

Ch 5: #No R-Agrestes. I don't always make friends

But when I do, I make sure to give them a bodily injury to remember me by. -Adrien Agreste as The Most Interesting Man in The world.

🙃🙃🙃🙃

When Gabriel Agreste comes home, it is without much fanfare...typically. The night will fall, the dark tracing delicately across every corner of the Agreste home. Maybe finding itself a little threatened by the warm light dripping out from underneath the crack of Adrien’s door. (Never Felix’s. He sleeps strictly at 9:30 PM, sleeping mask and all.)But besides that, there isn't a sound. The morning will bring with it the day’s newspaper, a few fashion magazines, and perhaps one or two of the local tabloids all piled on the dining table in alphabetical order.

Adrien really hadn't factored in his father's reaction to keeping Felix the cat. He'd supposed he could keep him hidden well enough for a while. His father was never home and the house was big enough for someone to get lost in. It shouldn't have been that hard. But ever since Marinette came into his life, he's been finding that his luck has devolved into a series of close calls. This time, they're might not be any call to make when Gabriel’s eyes look so flinty, they could cut through any web of lies Adrien can try and weave in this moment. “Apologies, Father. The cat belongs to me.” Felix (the brother) seems to coalesce from the shadows himself, wrapped in gunmetal gray silk pajamas, his sleeping mask pushed over his unusually messy hair.

Adrien shivers. His brother does not look amused...except, he notices the slight edges of Felix’s mouth curl the slightest bit, his gray eyes are impassive, but they shine with amusement as he takes in Gabriel’s ruined pants. Gabriel asks for an explanation and Adrien is almost entirely forgotten when Felix spews out the most amazing dribble of a story. “He reminded me of the stories Mother used to tell me about her own black cat...remember, the one named Pancake? I simply saw the poor little stray and he looked exactly as I'd always imagined Pancake..and so on a whim, I brought him home...I didn't think he'd find his way into your room. I'm sorry.” At the mention of Mother, Adrien feels his heart twist in his chest and sink to his feet. He's almost sure the same thing is happening to his father, because even Gabriel’s cold expression falls and he looks contemplative. “I see...make sure this doesn't happen again.”

Felix’s expression remains carefully neutral as he nods. “Yes Father...and welcome home.” “Well then...goodnight to the both of you.” “Goodnight.” Adrien and Felix say in concert, both of them wincing at how lame it sounded. Adrien watches on as Gabriel makes his way back down the hallway and it may be his imagination, but his father looks a lot more off balance than usual. But that always happened whenever someone mentioned Mom. The sadness that clings onto their house is a lot less vulnerable to light than the dark...Adrien thinks it's a shame that Marinette isn't around to distract him with another mishap.

Felix stays behind for a bit. Sleep is a difficult thing for him to piece together once it's been broken. He stays in Adrien’s room, sprawled across the messy bed as he stares up at the glow in the dark stars that Adrien had stuck there over a decade ago. “I don't remember that story about Mom’s cat?” Adrien points out as he absentmindedly pets the cat currently purring on his lap, perfectly content with the events of the night. “That's because it wasn't a cat. It was a hamster.” “Oh...well...I don't remember her talking about a hamster named Pancake?” “That's because I named it Pancake after the story.” “Why did you call it Pancake?” Adrien sighs, finally looking up at his brother from desk chair. “Did you just basically lie to Dad for me?” Felix fixes his gaze on the stars, his fingers flat against the green duvet as he thinks for a moment. “I named the hamster Pancake because Mom accidentally ran him over. And not for you.”

Adrien rolls his eyes, but a grin tugs at his mouth and he feels affection for his older brother swell in his chest until his heart is bobbing up and down again. “Of course not for me. It was for the cat.” Felix closes his eyes and smiles for once. “Yes, the cat. He did me a favor by destroying one of Father’s hideous pairs of red pants. So, I paid him in kind.” “Well, Felix really appreciates it.” Annoyance lances across Felix’s serene expression and his gray eyes snap open to glare at a laughing Adrien. “The fact that your girlfriend gave him my name is bad enough. The fact that the cat itself feels entitled to the same privileges as me because of said name cannot go unattended. He's become a plague on my peaceful lifestyle, Adrien.”

“Sure...sure.” Adrien chuckles, rubbing his cheek against the cat’s soft fur. “You're such a plague on this household...such a cute little plague.” Felix’s annoyance turns to satisfaction when he pulls out a fish shaped biscuit from his pocket and calls out in the most beguiling voice. “Come here Plague...come here...come get your treat.” The cat is a simple creature. Names are things that do not matter to cats. What matters most is what comes attached to the name, and currently, a treat is being offered with the name Plague...the cat thinks it's a great bargain and it leaps off of Adrien’s lap and prances up to Felix and the biscuit with a meow of satisfaction. “There...he likes his new name.” Felix says with finality, and Adrien watches in awe as his brother actually nuzzles his face into Plague’s fur.

“Fine...but I'm renaming your cactus Felix.” Adrien quips. He stifles his laughter behind his hands when Felix glares at him. Adrien thinks that moments like this are the ones that deserve to have a little light shone on them. --- For an arrangement so hastily made and with an equally hasty excuse, this fake dating thing is surprisingly mellow. She’s been waiting on tenterhooks, waking up way before her usual alarm just because her anxiety has rendered her incapable of sleep. She had tried hinting at Adrien, prodding him with a thinly veiled calm about just when she should uphold her end of the bargain. One cute date at a relatively obscure cat cafe does not seem like the most efficient way to spread the word about a relationship. Even if it a fake one.

And then it happens. Adrien makes an attempt to uphold his end of this haphazard deal of theirs. She’s glad he told her through text, because her knees are trembling and she has to sit down on her bed to reread his text message. From: Adrien Paindrien Hey...ummm...my father’s home. He’s invited you to dinner. Would Friday night work? I'm sorry. I didn't think you would have to meet him this soon...if it helps, you can bring samples of your work? Her hands are clammy. Her fingers too cold and leaving gross sweaty prints on the screen of her phone as she types out several different replies and then deletes them without sending. This is her opportunity. But she hadn't expected it to be so abrupt or unplanned. She wonders if Adrien knows anything about decorum or how not to look desperate...because she's sure if they're going to keep up this charade, she cannot come off as a girl selfish enough to use her boyfriend as a stepping stone to opportunity.

Her stomach is twisting into knots, a veritable Ouroboros of an organ as it feels like it's digesting itself and taking the rest of her organs with it. The window is open, a slightly muggy breeze blows past her gauzy white curtains and whispers across the loose strands of air falling from her bun. She heaves a breath, letting the scents of the city ground her. She decides to take things slow. She figures that her first method of introducing her work would be best. With that, her anxiety lessens a smidgen, and she texts back with more confidence than she feels. “Sure. Friday is perfect.” ---

The week passes by with a cheerful alacrity that's not very welcoming. Marinette clings onto the days with sheer determination, still casting disappointed glances at the last minute gifts she'd decided to work on. All three of them are nearly done. A few spools of fine silk thread and several square feet of expensive creamy fabric had gone into making these. The last of them is still stretched across the embroidery hoop, a short strand of black thread marking where she'd left off in her work. “It's all wrong.” She cries out to Tikki, who sits nestled in the middle of a droopy cosmos, probably gorging herself on the fat aphids common this time of year. She traces the expertly stitched patterns on Adrien’s embroiders handkerchief, lets her fingertips linger on the raised emerald of the black cat’s knowing eyes. “Maybe this isn't thoughtful enough? I don't know much about any of them.” She picks at a few fraying threads, wondering if she should just order a fruit arrangement and call it a day. The memory of a red, puffy faced Felix being rushed to the hospital instantly negates the thought. She'd rather not expose them to another potential allergen.

These little tokens of gratitude and well wishing have to be enough. Her tired fingers and less-than-ideal point work will have to be enough. It's a matter of pride that she gains recognition by her own effort, and it's with an apologetic smile that she sticks to her guns and texts Adrien. “I’m still coming, but I don't need your help.” --- It's raining when he comes to pick her up. His face is contorted into an anxious grimace, his fingers twisting together in his lap as Gorilla parks the car cross the street from of her apartment.

The water dashes against the windows, cold and marking time in a way that's sort of pretty and sort of melancholy. He'd been so excited to have her meet his father. In some ways, it felt almost real. If he let himself believe in her smiles and their newly established friendship, perhaps this could almost be a pleasant thing. The truth of the matter is that he's lonely. And he had been selfish to pull Marinette into something like this arrangement, even when she'd been the one to lie first. And then she’d sent her cryptic text message “I don't need your help.” The problem with texting is that it's hard to read someone's tone. He'd sent her sporadic messages after that, receiving the usual cheerfully chagrined responses. She'd acted like nothing had changed, but her words echoed in his head until he couldn't think about anything but that for the next three days.

Even his father’s ever looming presence had faded back into the numerous shadows that plagued (haha) the Agreste home. Adrien has had very few people he can call friends, much less close friends. There isn't anyone besides Felix he can ask for advice, and Felix would have kittens if he knew just how transactional his relationship with Marinette actually was. Regardless, there's a harrowing mixture of relief and anxiety that wells up in his chest, and he's not sure if it's that or the lovely gauzy red dress she wears that steals his breath. She stands under the awning stretched out over the entrance of the apartment complex, her trench coat is fashionably wide open, the edges flapping softly in the wind. Her dark hair is down, spiraling delicately across the tops of her shoulders. And her lovely face is contorted into an expression of worry as she eyes the rainy skies disdainfully.

She reminds him very much of Plague. Precious, preening, scared and angry at the rain for threatening to ruin their pretty coats. Her arms are full with three gift bags, and his stomach lurches with fear at what they might contain. Still, he's a gentleman by training and a kind person by his very nature, so he doesn't think much as he grabs his trusty old battered umbrella, and rushes across the empty street to offer her portable shelter. He doesn't open it right away, not really caring if his nice green sweater and collared shirt get a little wet. “Your knight in shining armor is here, My Lady.” He calls sweetly, and her glare turns from the sky towards him, but it's softened by the bemused smile she graces him with. “You sound like one of those guys online who wear fedoras and complain that girls won't fall for them because they're nice guys.”

He winces a bit, but takes it all in stride, brandishing his umbrella playfully as he steps under the awning with her. “I'm not that bad.” He says plaintively, and the playful pout on his lips makes her think that the world really isn't fair because some people get everything. She looks down at her brown ankle boots, little droplets of rain bouncing off of them harmlessly. “No...you're not that bad.” She says quietly, warmly. When she looks up at him again, her smile is earnest. Her eyes large and soft. He swallows thickly. He thinks the world really isn't fair because Marinette is everything he could fall for, and...this isn't real.

They could barely be termed friends and any friendship they could build would be marred by this silly farce he proposed because he'd been so lonely and bored. He hadn't lied when he told her he was bored...but he hadn't meant it in the way she'd taken it. Marinette was vibrant, silly, ambitious...things he used to be...a long time ago. So his thoughts are a bit scattered when he holds out his umbrella to her, and accidentally presses the button. There's a brief metallic swish sound, the old rusted handle groaning as it angrily shoots out to full length and punches Marinette squarely in the nose.

“OW SHIT!” Marinette yells in pain. “OH FUCK!” Adrien yells in horror, dropping the umbrella. “DID IT HURT YOU?” “No! It FREAKING tickled!” She's dropped all her bags in favor of cupping her nose. Adrien tries to get close, but she shakes her head and winces, waving him away. “I'm fine. Just...owww...just let me deal with it.” She tells him in a nasally tone. She drops her hands and presses the bridge of her nose. “The presents...they shouldn't get wet!” A trickle of blood has made its way from her nostril, and Adrien panics as he bends down to retrieve the sodden gift bags from the ground...at the same time that she does.

He gathers up two. She gathers up one, and he stands up way too fast, knocking his head into chin and he ends up biting his lip. He lets out a hiss and his eyes water in pain as she starts apologizing. He waves her off, and is finally able to speak after a moment or two. “You're still bleeding.” “It's slowing down.” She says, looking ridiculous as she tilts her nose up and keeps pressing on it. He clicks his tongue in disapproval and then decides that that was stupid because it's still sore. But regardless, he's sort of irked by her sudden push for independence. He hangs the bags off of one arm, and uses one hand to gently cradle her face. She protests weakly, but she's too caught up in his proximity. Adrien doesn't even realize it as he uses the cuff of his sleeve to carefully wipe away the blood from her nose. “There...that's better. Right?” He says cheerfully when he's done. She seems a bit speechless, before pointing up at his mouth and saying- “You're bleeding too.” She tells him, and he watches with something like tenderness as she digs through one of the gift bags and pulls out a gorgeous silk handkerchief. “Here...use this.” He takes it from her and upon seeing the expertly embroidered black cat surrounded by little stars, he feels something entirely too debilitating seize his heart in a vice like grip and squeeze until he's hurting worse than just his stinging lip.

“You...you made this...for me?” “Yes.” “I...thank you so much, Marinette. It...I'll keep it safe.” He tucks it away in his pant pocket, gingerly folding it so that it doesn't wrinkle. He gives a brilliant smile, the dried blood on his lip cracking disgustingly. His tone gives her pause...as if he can't quite believe that someone would put effort for him...she's not quite sure where this idea comes from. He's an Agreste. There are people with three times her status in society who would trip over themselves to put in effort for him. She tries not to show how much his appreciation moves her. “Well yeah...I mean I made one for Felix and for your Father.” She shrugs. “It would be weird if I didn't make one for my boyfriend.”

“Oh…” She feels her heart sink. He looks like a kicked puppy, crestfallen expression, messy damp hair and all. She swallows back her acerbic replies and somewhat roughly steps up and uses the sleeve of her coat to wipe away the dried blood from his lip. “There...now you look presentable.” She says softly, and steps back for a bit, clutching the now empty gift bag to her chest. Adrien's mind has skittered to the far reaches of comprehensible thought, the signals that were shooting through his neuronal network did not match up with the memories of her terse messages. The clumsy carefulness of sleeve against his lips...the slightly angry replies that she'd given him. “Why...why did you say you don't need my help?” He sounds sad...so sad.

Marinette wonders why a simple message could have hurt him so. She still here. She's still keeping up her end of the deal. “I didn't want to succeed in that way. I have to do it through my own efforts.” She fiddles with the edges of the wrinkled red tissue wrap peeking up from the rumpled bag. “I have very little pride left...but it's enough for this at least. Bringing my designs to this dinner would have looked really bad, Adrien.” “Oh...that's it?” He blinks owlishly, relief making his shoulders sag until he looks like a dropping sunflower. Too bright in this rain. “That's it….were you worried I was dumping you or something? I said I was still coming.” She looks a bit miffed that he'd doubted her word. “N-no...well yeah. I'm not good with this? This friend thing?” He says sheepishly, smiling nervously at her. Marinette feels a page of understanding turn in her thoughts and she laughs.

“Friends...okay...well you're lucky I am.” She tells him blithely, and bends down to pick up the umbrella. She shakes it out a bit, and opens it carefully over the both of them. She looks at him once more and smiles back. “I can show you how to do the friend thing. So...let's get going. I think we've kept Go...your driver waiting too long.” They head out into the rain together, feeling the budding of something warm and true curling in their hearts.

#adrienette #miraclous ladybug #miraculous snippets #help me this is so much of a crack story

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khymer-vulture · 7 years

Text

It’s 7/24, and holy...shit...I’m still giddy that SnT is getting it’s own anime <3

Happy Birthday to Zack and to us as well!

Late July, the weather was starting to get much hotter as August was just around the corner. Zack was not faring very well with the unbearable heat, even with Rachel trying to help relieve the discomfort, they had to make more stops in the shade, or not even travel at all. Ray knew Zack’s heavy attire to conceal his appearance was the issue, but what could she do? Getting him to roll up his pant legs was the only thing she managed to convince Zack to do, and unzipping the hoodie provided only minimal relief, there were still his body wrappings taking in and trapping heat, which made things worse.

Something needed to be done, last thing she wanted was for Isaac to collapse or suffer from a heat stroke.

Another hot day approached, Zack was forced to camp out in the shaded alleyways as he chugged down both soda and water bottles in an attempt to cool off and stay hydrated, Rachel lightly gave Zack a pat on the shoulder to get his attention - he was listening, but he was more focused on his drinks.

“Zack, I’m going to go run a quick errand, stay here…and please do take care of yourself,” she spoke.

Zack grumbled under his breath, “Yeah, yeah…quit babying me…”

“I’ll bring some of your favorite soda, okay?”

She could see Zack’s odd colored eyes light up, now she knew for sure that Zack was going to behave himself.

Ray left the man with a wave, seeing him lazily wave farewell in return. She exited the back alleys, memorizing small details to help her find her way back to Isaac when she was finished with her errand. Something to keep Zack concealed but lessen the burden of the summer heat. She recalled some people wearing long sleeved shirts as they passed by a couple beaches on their travel, it did seem odd to wear it on hot days, but perhaps some clothing stores could state the reasons why.

That was her first stop, a nearby clothing store to inquire of recommended coverage for the summer. Apparently, the long-sleeved shirts were not ordinary cotton clothing, but made with synthetic material to keep the clothing light and breathable, while shielding the body from harmful rays of the summer sun. If she could get that, and maybe breathable bandages too, perhaps Zack would do better in the summer heat.

Rachel managed to find a hoodie, and from her good judgement, she seemed to memorize what size Zack would wear - something large, but with enough baggage for breathability and comfort.

It wasn’t cheap, but not too expensive either. With the abundance of tourists during the summer season, mugging during the night times became so much easier, which gave them a nice surplus of cash to indulge in. Ray picked out the hoodie, then brought it up to the counter, from there, she saw the date on the register – it was July 24th.

She recalled that it was an important date to remember, then it hit her, Zack once said that he assumed that it must be the day he was born on. Assumption or no, it was a birthday nonetheless, and Rachel wanted to give him a gift in return for the surprise he gave to her on her own birthday.

“Um…sorry if this is too much trouble…but…could you put it into a gift bag?” Ray asked the woman behind the counter.

“Oh, of course. So, this is a present?” the woman asked.

Ray nodded with a small grin, and watched as the woman slid the hoodie into a decorated paper bag, then stuff some colorful tissue paper inside. Rachel thanked the woman and made her way out of the store. That was one item down, and a few more to go.

Finding the other things were easy, a pharmacy often carried wrappings that Zack normally used, she got a spool of it and a spool of wrappings made with lighter fabric, then picked out a couple bottles of both water and soda from the refrigerated areas. That marks more items off the list. Rachel seemed a bit eager to return to Zack’s side and give him the gifts, even tell the man that she wished him a happy birthday. If he was able to make her happy on her birthday, in his own way, then she wanted to give him that same feeling.

Rachel quietly walked down the town sidewalk, passing by different alleyways until she could spot the familiar details of the entrance, the one they took shelter in had a couple of empty boxes and pallets stacked against the walls of the buildings, and she made her turn into the shaded gaps of the structures. Ray peeked her head around the corner and noticed that Zack was still where he was, but she noticed the man’s eyes were shut. She wondered if he was simply taking a nap, but also worried that maybe the heat did get to him.

She carefully approached the man and knelt down to his level, he was softly breathing with a bit of calmness, so it meant that Zack was simply taking a nap. Ray let out a sigh of relief, then pulled out a bottle of soda and snuck it into Zack’s hand. The man let out a startled snort as his eyes fluttered awake, he felt a cold sensation in his palm, then brought his hand up to investigate. It was his favorite brand of drink, which meant Ray was back.

Zack lazily turned his sleepy attention to the girl beside him, and noticed her with a cheerful expression. Sure, she was smiling, but still not exactly the kind of smile he was looking for.

“What’s with the dumb grin?” he grunted.

“Oh, I’m just glad that you were doing okay without me,” Rachel replies.

“Yeah…still kicking, it’s still fucking hot though…thanks for the drink…” Zack mumbled as he twist the cap open to take a drink, “find the shit you were looking for?”

Ray nodded, “I did. Close your eyes.”

‘Huh? Why?”

“It’s a surprise…so, please do this real quick?” Ray asks.

Isaac scowled a little bit before doing a small yet annoying request, he set his drink down, and could hear the sounds of paper crinkling until something was set on his lap. Once he was given the okay to open them, Zack saw the medium sized bag stuffed with tissue paper.

“Th’ fuck is this?”

“Dig into the bag to find out,” Rachel replied.

Zack raised a brow as he yanked out the colorful paper and tossed them aside, in the bag, he could spot a couple spools of body wrappings, but something else caught his eye. He reached in and pulled out the clothing and noticed how remarkably light it was compared to his usual attire.

“Ya’ got me a hoodie?”

“Yes, it’s supposed to be light and easier for you to wear in the summer weather,” Rachel replied. “I felt bad that you had to endure the heat all the time.”

“I’m used to it…but damn…I never thought this kind of shit was real,” Zack mumbled, then ripped the tag off the clothing.

She saw the man change out of his thicker attire to slip it on, large with plenty of baggage, just how he liked it.

“Damn, just my size too,” Zack prattled with amazement. “Shit, I can actually fucking breathe now.”

This made Ray very happy, Zack approved of the gift she got him. The man noticed her smile had changed to a happier one, but he still wondered why she went through the hassle.

“Hey Ray, what gives though? Ya’ really didn’t need to go through the trouble for my stubborn ass,” Zack said.

“Well, of course I had to…don’t you know what today is?”

She saw the man simply cock a brow at her.

“It’s the 24th, you once said that it might be your birthday,” Ray answered. “so, consider this a birthday gift as well.”

Zack was surprised, then tugged at the new piece of clothing given to him. It was a nice gesture, very nice, but he had this feeling that a guy like him shouldn’t have been bothered about it. Rachel noticed the grim look on the man’s face and began to grow worried.

“…Do you…not like it?”

Zack grumbled a bit, “I do. It’s nice…but I’m not somebody worth the trouble getting a gift over, Ray. I’m…a killer…somebody that people wouldn’t fucking celebrate anything over, not unless I’m six feet under…ya’ know?”

Zack felt unwanted, he’s always felt that way since the beginning. The only time he was wanted was to be used as a tool, but not once was he ever wanted as a person. Ray thought otherwise, she knew what it felt like to not get the feeling of acceptance a person would crave for the longest time, but today, she wanted to change that for him.

“Zack…I got you a gift, and I wish to celebrate this day, because…I’m very grateful that you were born,” she softly spoke.

Isaac froze for a moment, he felt something inside him crack as her words hit him like a wrecking ball, the man focused his heterochromatic eyes at her as he gazed at her expression.

She did not lie, her face showed the happiness and gratitude for his existence.

“…R-repeat that?”

“…I’m very grateful that you were born…”

Another crack.

Never had Zack heard something like that be said to him, all his life the only words he heard were of disgust, hatred, and rejection.

‘Disgusting freak. Monster. A filthy thing like you shouldn’t even exist.’

Every day, was the same jeer and taunt directed in his way. A child, burnt and starving. Treated as an abomination. Treated as a tool. When he made his freedom, he was treated as a monster.

Where he went, every soul he claimed, no one saw any redeeming qualities in the man. Zack was nothing more than a person who could easily be forgotten if he was to finally die the next day. Rachel was different, she treated him different, she saw that Zack was still a human being, and deserved to be regarded as such.

He was not a monster. He was a human. He was Zack. For that, Rachel was grateful.

More cracks began to form in the man’s fortified mental wall, as if something he was protecting deep inside was trying to break out. Zack could feel something sting the corner of his eyes, he had shed a couple small tears before – perhaps one or two, but what he was feeling now, was a strong welling. Isaac grit his teeth as he quickly turned himself away from her, god, he didn’t want her to see what was going on with him. His inner child was weeping, he had craved this kind of mental affection and acceptance for so long, and he finally got it. This made Zack’s heart hurt with both sadness and joy, and he quickly brought his hand over his mouth to stifle any noises that threatened to come out.

Rachel was confused to Zack’s behavior, she could see the man trembling as he huddled against himself, then she heard muffled whimpers, followed by continuous sniffles. Isaac was sobbing, no matter how hard he tried to hide it, his body gave it away.

Zack had never felt himself get this emotional, not ever. It wasn’t him, he was too tough for this, yet here he was in the back alley with this mentally mature girl and he’s crying his eyes out.

Rachel wanted to comfort him, tell him that it was alright to cry, but she also worried that it might upset him even more. So instead, she brought her hand up to gently rub at his back as she leaned against him, letting him know that she was there to calm him when he needed it. The wrappings in Zack’s face were damp, he sniffled a couple more times until he felt it was finally safe to uncover his mouth.

Ray could hear a choked and slightly mocking laugh coming from him.

“Jesus Christ…look at how pathetic I’m being…a grown ass man…and I’m blubbering like a fucking baby,” Zack murmured.

Ray continued to rub the man’s back, knowing that he wouldn’t dare to face her at the moment. Zack felt he was being weak to break down like this.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of, Zack…” Ray spoke, “…it’s normal, it’s also healthy…crying doesn’t make you pathetic, it makes you human. Now that you’ve shown that you’re capable of shedding tears like that…it further proves that you are indeed a human being.”

A human being. Monsters would never cry.

Zack bit at his bottom lip as he felt more of the salty tears stream down his face, even his voice quivered.

“God damn it, Ray…”

Ray brought up her arms to hug the man from behind, but she felt him quickly yank her onto his lap, and hold onto her tightly. Rachel was caught slightly off guard, but she was glad that he was accepting her embrace, and wrapped her arms around the man’s shoulders. She felt Zack bury his face in the crook of her neck as he continued to feel his inner child weep, it felt so damn comforting to have her this close. This warmth and acceptance he felt was chasing away so many dark memories in his head, and filled it with a sense of thankfulness of ever coming across Rachel Gardner. She may be a brat to him at times, but she always seemed to brighten his days.

They held onto each other like this for a while, even Rachel slid her fingers up to run through Zack’s hair as she softly hummed to him, and soothed him. Slowly, but surely, Zack was finally calming down, his body stopped trembling and he felt the flow of tears dry up.

“…Are you going to be alright?” Ray softly asks.

Zack took a couple deep breaths before sitting up straight to look at her, he wiped at his eyes a couple times before he could put words in his mouth.

“Y-yeah…fuck…I never thought a person like me to just break like that…” Zack muttered. “…I must’ve looked pretty stupid, huh?”

“Not at all…you looked like you really needed to let it all out…” Rachel replied.

Zack glanced at the ground for a moment, “…You’re the first…and probably only person to have ever said that. Ya’ know…being grateful about me being born. Fuck…I don’t know what came over me.”

“It must’ve made you very happy,” Ray replied with a sweet smile.

“…Yeah…yeah it did,” Zack said, “…like I actually belonged for once…shit…”

He felt Ray hug him again, and he responded with letting his fingers comb through her hair.

“Jeez, Ray…why couldn’t I have met ya’ so much sooner?” he rambled.

Soon, her blue eyes glanced up at him, “…well, I wasn’t born yet.”

This made Zack let out an amused snort before letting out a chuckle, then he retorted with a small pinch.

“You cheeky little brat.”

Ray winced from the playful pinch, but she giggled to hear him be amused to her small bit of humor.

“Happy birthday, Zack…”

“Thanks, Ray…” Zack replied, “hey…lemme give you something too, alright?”

Rachel appeared curious, then felt Zack cover her eyes. He knew he was going to do something out of character, but he felt it needed to be done, Rachel was someone he trusted deeply to deserve this, for he was also grateful that she existed too. Isaac leaned down to Ray, and was within seconds of pressing his lips against her forehead, until something else came to mind that stopped him - No, somewhere else. He leaned a little closer now, then pressed his lips against her cheek, letting it last a few seconds. Isaac could feel the skin on Ray’s cheeks start to swarm with heat, which amused him, he slowly pulled away and saw that she had indeed turned a deep shade of red. Now, he pulled his hand away to let the girl see.

Rachel was stunned, she wanted to speak, but no words could be formed without the risk of stutters and fumbling.

“Ya’ don’t have to say anythin’ Ray…” Zack said, he knew she was unable to speak, “…you put me in a good mood…so you deserved that…and thank you again…”

Zack slowly got up to his feet, then offered his hand to Ray to help her get up as well. The sun was setting, and it called for them to retire to a motel room to escape the mugginess of the summer night.

Isaac may have never found reason to celebrate the time of his birth, but now, Rachel made him feel like he was damn glad to be alive. He couldn’t give two shits if the world didn’t care that he lived or died, but he had someone who was grateful that he existed, and that one person was all he would ever need.

#satsuriku no tenshi #angels of death #angel of slaughter #happy birthday zack! :D #khymer's fanfics

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