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wttf-if · 2 years

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Welcome To The Family

trigger warning(s): 18+ age rating, depictions of violence, gore, strong language, odd circumstances that is beyond anyone's control, sexual themes, death, and mature themes. Viewer discretion is advised.

If you're going to be honest, this wasn't your first choice.

Deep, deep in the forest of Idovale lies a mysterious mansion that houses the (in)famous family: The Varias Family. There were rumors of them to be bloodsuckers, witches, warlocks, psychics, or even creatures that lies beyond human comprehension. You're not normally someone who believes in the supernatural, but hearing the rumors that surround them would make anyone antsy.

You, a recent freshman that was admitted into Idovale University, weren't exactly strapped with cash. That, and they were renting out a room in their mansion at a very low, low price. You needed a room quickly, and so you venture your way to the family's mansion.

Upon meeting the family and living there for a few months, you're starting to think the rumors were...true. You think. You think they're true. They're still a huge mystery. But, nevertheless, they make your life, in a sense, very interesting.

But strange things are happening in the town of Idovale, and it's causing a stir. A strange murder that stars a corpse surrounded by flowers, a cold case that involved the Varias Family returns, and you're the one solving the murder.

Seriously, what the hell.

Welcome To The Family is an interactive-fiction novel influenced by The Addams Family, Kuroshitsuji (aka: Black Butler), etc., about family relationships, mystery, and intrigue. This will be made in Twine.

Welcome To The Family includes:

-Play as a broke college student that becomes involved with the Varias Family, a dynamic, twisted family that's to die for!

-Pursue a romance with the two family members of the Varias Family, the family butler, a retired detective, an old serial killer, or a mystery, romantic option! However, if you wish to pursue/continue with a platonic relationship, that option is also there as well!

-Have a wide, range of options to choose from for your character creation!

-Interchangeable POV’s between characters!

-Solve a murder. No, really. You're solving a murder.

-Something is happening in the town of Idovale...

"I can feel my heart melting when I'm near you, burning me from the inside as my body demands a release to free itself from this hellish pain. I don't particularly mind it."

Irina Varias (she/her, 23); One of the romantic options, she's the elder sister of Valentin Varias. She's cold, blunt, and mysteriously murderous at times, but she carries a dark humor that's followed by a sadistic, dark smile. She conducts herself as gracefully as her mother, but it makes you wonder what she's like when her walls are down.

Appearance: Black hair tied into medium-sized, wavy pigtails that hangs on the sides of her head. Her bangs just stops above her eyes. Her eyes are a dark, dark shade of black. She tends to wear a black dress-shirt with a long, black skirt that reaches her ankles. She wears black flats with white tights. She wears silver studded earrings and black gloves. She has porcelain skin, and her height is 5'8''.

"I love you! I really do! See, the bats from the attic are spelling out the words out for me! Huh? 'It says 'I loathe you' instead'? ARRRRGHH, IRINA! QUIT MESSING WITH MY AFFAIRS!"

Valentin Varias (he/him, 22): One of the romantic options, he's the younger brother of Irina. He's the opposite of Irina; bright, bubbly, and extremely demented/deranged. He conducts himself as intuitive as his father, and he would proudly hug his family members...while trying to kill them. Especially his sister.

Appearance: Black hair that's short and slightly spiky at the back, the sides of his hair are long, braided pigtails with white ribbons. His bangs just stops above his eyes. His eyes are also a dark, dark shade of black. He tends to wear a white, dress-shirt with a black vest and a black ribbon with white lines around his neck. He carries a black belt with packs, filled with items of massive destruction, weapons, and snacks. He wears black gloves and black slip-on shoes. He has porcelain skin, and his height is 5'6''.

"Do you...do you truly love me? A monster such as myself?"

Nicolae Dimir (he/him, 28); One of the romantic options, he's the family butler of the Varias Family. He's a gigantic man who intimidated you greatly with his deep voice, but he's in actuality, a huge softie. He loves gardening, he loves to read, and he loves to care for the Varias Family, who graciously took him in when he had no-one else. You do, however, wonder why it is he calls himself a monster.

Appearance: Long, white locks of hair that reaches his lower back. His bangs wisps around his head, but stops right above his eyes. His eyes are hazel-colored, but it turns into a beautiful, golden color when the light hits it. He wears a pair of black glasses. He wears a three-piece butler suit with white gloves. He has almond skin, and his height is 6'4''.

"Seriously, why the hell am I getting dragged into this? Just because I owe Adrian, does NOT mean I should--ah, what the hell. If I fight a frickin' sea monster again, I'm making Adrian pay for our dinner. C'mon kid, there's a mystery to solve."

Ash/Ashlyn Blackmore (he/him, she/her, they/them, 45); One of the romantic options, they're a retired detective that's old friends with the head of the Varias Family, Adrian Varias. They're grumpy, swore off of cigarettes for chocolate pocky, and they're loyal to a fault. Despite how they conduct themselves to others, they're an old, but well-known detective that used to live in Idovale. You wonder why it is that they'll offer to help, but not be the one to solve this case?

Appearance (Male): Has russet, red-brown hair tied back into a high ponytail. His bangs stops at his chin, with one of his eyes covered. His eyes are a shade of light violet. He tends to wear a white, dress-shirt with a loose, black tie and black slacks with black dress-shoes. He wears a large, black overcoat with fur around the hoodie. He has warm beige skin, and his height is 6'0''.

Appearance (Female): Has russet, red-brown hair tied back into a high ponytail. Her bangs stops at her chin, with one of her eyes covered. She has rounder features, compared to her male counterpart, who has chiseled features. Her eyes are a shade of light violet. She tends to wear a white, dress-shirt with a loose, black ribbon and a black, long skirt with a slit on the side. She wears black, high-heels. She wears a large, black overcoat with fur around the hoodie. She has warm beige skin, and her height is 5'6''.

Appearance (Non-Binary): Has russet, red-brown hair tied back into a high ponytail. Their bangs stops at their chin, with one of their eyes covered. Their eyes are a shade of light violet. They tend to wear a white, dress-shirt with ruffles around the collar area, and black slacks with black dress-shoes. They wear a large, black overcoat with fur around the hoodie. They have warm beige skin, and their height is 5'8''.

“You neeeee~d me to solve this case, my fair boss! So, why not listen to me? We ARE supposed to be a consulting with one another, are we not? Shall we discuss about our love affair, or shall we discuss about the body that's been laying there?”

Luca/Luna/Li Roman (he/him, she/her, they/them, 33); One of the romantic options, they're an old serial killer that was once nicknamed, 'The Moon's Marionette'. Whimsical, unpredictable, and deeply amused, they were the first to be suspected...until they weren't. Now, they're serving as your apprentice, in exchange for their death sentence to be lifted. They seem to have familiarity with the Varias Family.

Appearance (Male): Has long, messy black hair that reaches his shoulder-blades, the ends are dyed a deep violet. His bangs stop right above his eyes and frames his face, the tips dyed in a deep violet. His eyes are heterochromia, his right-eye being silver with his left-eye being gold, and he has bags under his eyes. In prison, he wears a customized prison outfit; a white and black-striped long-sleeve with frayed ends, black, tight jeans and he's barefooted. Once he's out, he wears a black, business suit with a white, dress-shirt and a tie with black, dress shoes. He has pale skin, and his height is 5'9''.

Appearance (Female): Has long, messy black hair that reaches shoulder-blades, the ends are dyed a deep violet. Her bangs stop right above her eyes and frames her face, the tips dyed in a deep violet. Her features are a bit rounder. Her eyes are heterochromia, her right-eye being silver with her left-eye being gold, and she has bags under her eyes. In prison, she wears a customized prison outfit; a white and black-striped long-sleeve with frayed ends, a long, black skirt that reaches her ankles and she's barefooted. Once she's out, she wears a black, business suit with a white, dress-shirt and a ribbon with black, dress shoes. She has pale skin, and her height is 5'6''.

Appearance (Non-Binary): Has long, messy black hair that reaches their lower back, the ends are dyed a deep violet. Their bangs stop right above their eyes and frame their face, the tips dyed in a deep violet. Their eyes are heterochromia, their right-eye being silver with their left-eye being gold, and they have bags under their eyes. In prison, they wear a customized prison outfit; a white and black-striped long-sleeve with frayed ends, black, tight jeans with a long, black skirt over it and they're barefooted. Once they're out, they wears a black, business suit with a white, dress-shirt with black, dress shoes. They have pale skin, and their height is 5'7''.

"To choose me is a terrible idea. But much like the others, you don't really seem to care, do you? Disgusting."

They have eyes, ears, and can be anywhere. Really, they're a horrible option. But does that deter you? Absolutely not.

Adrian Varias (he/him, 46): The head of the Varias Family, he's the husband of the beautiful, Rozalia Varias. His shenanigans makes your head dizzy, and he's already enlisting you as a part of his family.

Rozalia Varias (she/her, 44): The wife of Adrian Varias. She is often the one who calms Adrian's antics down, and is considered to be a very, beautiful woman. She is also enlisting you as a part of her family, so really, there's no huge difference between the two. You think.

Claude Varias (he/him, 44): The brother of Adrian, he's a jolly, nonsensical man who enjoys your company. A 'breath of fresh dust', is what he said. You don't really understand him, but he often brings you gifts. He has a beautiful husband and two children.

Isabela Varias (she/her, 43): The sister of Rozalia, she's the obligatory 'wine aunt' and often visits to see how the 'most normal of the Varias' is doing, aka: You. She sometimes makes a off-handed comment about how you should visit her, but you can tell she really does want you to visit her villa.

Augustine Varias (they/them, 20): The cousin of Irina and Valentin, they're a member of the extended family of the Varias Family that doesn't live in Idovale. They often come to check in with the family, and they're always accompanied by their snakes. They find you fascinating.

Mimi and Sisi Varias (she/her, 12 & 13): The cousins of Irina and Valentin, they're the twin daughters of Claude Varias. They remind you of another set of twins that stands at the end of hallways, but it's best not to dwell on it.

Valerica Varias (she/her, [REDACTED AGE]): The mother of Adrian Varias, she's an old witch that embodies the sense of a true, Varias member. She finds your company enjoyable, and often asks you to join in on her little extortion with others. Yes, you heard that correctly.

The pets...it's best not to dwell on them.

More characters will be added in soon.

Demo: TBA

#interactive fiction #twine game #cyoa #indie game #interactive novel #twine #dev log #if game #if wip #twine wip #twine if #wttf #wttf if

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hikunn · 2 years

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treasure's hair pt2!

nebly’s note : this has been in my drafts for like two months now 😭😭 only posting it now tho sorry 🙏 part one

YEDAM.

boa noona this is for you

a pigtails typa guy

has scrunchies on his wrist 🌝

likes his perm too much so he won't let you straighten it

wants you to put pins in his hair

for that y2k aesthetic u know

lets you play around with hairspray

yedam finds it funny when his hair turns crunchy bcs of the spray

"oooh! crunchier than the bag of cheetos i forgot to close!"

JAEHYUK.

RIBBONS AND BOWS RIBBONS AND BOWS :(((((

wants you to put anything and everything in his hair

headbands, bows (a lot of them), clips, etc.

STOPPP HES SO CUTEEEEE

might as well have a tea party while ur at it

playful but will teach you abt hair products

it's a very soft but memorable moment

"tea party in my closet later?"

ASAHI.

i bet his hair smells super nice

LIKE STRAWBERRIES

and it's SOOOO soft too

asahi loves it when you just touch his hair

loves when you brush through it

omg he's a sucker for scalp massages

what if hypothetically you find a bald spot

you ask him what happened right

"oh so you see jeongwoo accidentally shaved some off bcs he was trying to draw pengsoo on my head but yk that really didn't work out and now it looks like that! ha ha..."

JEONGWOO.

he bought himself a new razor right

tells you to sit back and watch him cut his hair all by himself

coMPLETELY messes up

cut his bangs super short

"hey y/n... think you can fix this?" LLLOOOLL

you sigh

disappointed but not surprised!

you try your best to thin and even out his bangs (w scissors not w a razor)

"you think you can give me a fade next?"

JUNGHWAN.

will probably fall asleep

ask him if he likes his hair

u get a snore and a “huh? what?”

has absolutely zero trust in you

very hesitant when you offer to cut his hair for him

surprised when it actually turns out good

you fail to tell him u actually had no idea what u were doing LMAO

“you and scissors don’t look good together…”

JIHOON

thinks ur doing everything wrong

"do NOT burn my hair. YOURE BURNING MY hAIR?? IM AN IDOL I CAN'T AFFORD BURNT HAIR??"

worries for absolutely no reason

ends up liking the finished product

which is just a ponytail... bcs he wouldn't let you do anything else 😢

but then posts it on weverse

"doesn't my hair look so good rn?? i had complete trust in y/n!!"

masterlist

#treasure #treasure headcannons #treasure headcanons #treasure fluff #treasure imagines #yedam #jaehyuk #asahi #jeongwoo #junghwan #jihoon #treasure jihoon #treasure yg #treasure scenarios #treasure reactions

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gluevah · 5 months

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I got a super exciting package today! Since I got into American Girl, I've wanted to design a Create Your Own doll to look like me when I was a kid. Growing up I always wanted an American Girl doll, but they were expensive and my parents absolutely refused to spend that kind of money on a doll. Being an adult with adult money means being able to grant your childhood self that one big unfulfilled wish, so I started a small collection and today my CYO arrived!

Seeing the box with my name on it was so exciting, and made me feel nostalgic for some reason. The box is a really nice, sturdy box with a ribbon tie. Definitely going to store this one in the closet for safekeeping!

For my lookalike, I chose the Josefina mold with the lightest skin tone, freckles, and blue eyes. I chose long, straight, brown hair. I wish bangs were an option, because I always had bangs as a kid. I chose pigtails as the style she came in, but I ended up re-doing them myself because they were kind of messy right out of the box.

I picked the "unicorns and mermaids" outfit specifically because of the shoes, they are SO cute and I want them for myself. I chose the "win the weekend" accessory set because the cat ear headphones are adorable. I also picked glasses, because even though I didn't have them as a kid, I do now and she looks so cute with glasses; and pierced ears, because I did have piercings when I was younger, but they're all closed up now.

Her backpack is really cute, it came with a little cellphone, a lollipop, and a cup of Boba tea. Her glasses came with a soft case, which is in her bag also. There's a closeup of her freckles, she's my first freckled doll!

When I ordered her, I also ordered some outfits for her. Here are two of them! The blue outfit is the December birthstone outfit, and the pink one is the October birthstone outfit. They're both super pretty, and look so nice on her!

I have no idea what to name her. It feels weird naming her after myself, but with her being a mini-me that would make the most sense.

#american girl doll #ag dolls #cyo doll #create your own

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ennaku-sirri-da · 1 year

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Who knows what lies in the hearts of Dolls? ( Hold on to this lullaby. Even when the music's gone.)

( Plain text: Who knows what lies in the hearts of Dolls? [Hold on to this lullaby. Even when the music's gone. ])

[ ID: Traditional fanart of the game Smile For Me showing Dr Habit, and fandom-created OCs Uncle Grigory and the Habit Twins, Forsaw and Bahd. It is all uncolored and any filled-in parts are with pencil. The style mostly follows the game but not exactly. Artist has taken divergent design interpretations from the game.

The main scene shows a younger Uncle Grigory holding an infant Habit. Grigory's hair is less dense and styled more closely to his head, a few curls framing his face. He has on some dark eyeshadow as well as nailpolish. He wears a half-sleeve shirt, pant, and pointed shoes, all dark. A heavy-looking cross necklace with three curving circular tips at its ends ( like a clovers head) hangs around his neck. He bottle feeds the small Habit wrapped in a blanket, held in his arms, as he sits bending with one leg spread a little away. The muppet Habit here has a teddy bear-like appearance when this young, with short curls of hair, big ears, and the usual big lashes with freckled cheek-patches. His eyes are closed. Grigory's face wrinkles as he tearfully smiles, "You are so beautiful." He says in Russian, with some hearts beside the floaty chatbox.

Beside them are the Habit Twins, just children as of now. They are both living ragdolls with splits in their faces, buttons for eyes, stitched-on mouths and cute lashes. Bahd Habit is in a dress with a pale apron. The dress is full-handed and topped by frills at the sleeves and hem. Bahd also wears mittens and simple shoes with socks. His yarn hair is tied down in two ribboned pigtails. Forsaw Habit wears a simple full-hand shirt with a small neck-bow, a heart patch design near it. She has on mitts, a beanie-like cap and puffy short pants that end in simple socks with shoes. Her own yarn hair is in a medium-length bangs cut. They both grin in delight, Bahd looking a touch more devilish. He stands on his toes, straining for height to look at Habit by pressing his hands atop his siblings shoulders. Forsaw holds her hands together. They both sing in unsion,

" Bayu Bayushki Bayu

do not lie down near the edge( of the bed)

Or the grey wolfie will come and BITE you by your tiny side...!~"

Music notes and hearts are drawn around their lyric lines. The crescent moon and simple stars in the background also seem to imply it's night.

On the other side of this scene, a huge furry plush heart is drawn. Thick letters embedded in it spell out, " I love you" in Russian.

Below it a sketch of the grown-up Habit is seen. He is closer to his canon appearance but with some of the artists own touches such as on his baby form. An X-stitch scar also runs up the side of his mouth, and he wears lipstick. He smiles sincerely, gratefully, tipping his hat down as his great lengths of hair billow out behind him, artistically filled in with swirls. In one scarred hand he holds the same heavy-cross necklace, looking at it. A red sketchpen etches a shaky line from the plush heart, crossing Habit and going to the far end of the page, "You and I'll be Safe and Sound..." is written, with music notes and hearts. Finally a bit of a simply styled flower border can be seen around the whole photo of the page.

The page is of a lined, rectangular notebook. The photo taken casts a soft, light shadow on swathes of the mildly warm-toned image. End ID]

Talk..and context.. under the cut, you know!!

Oh yes, many of my works are produced under musical influence! There's a fact for you. This is that one song that's known from the Hunger Games(Safe And Sound). Surprisingly I'd never heard of it, but when I did, the emotions washed over me in such powerful waves that I 1) Cried and 2) Drew. You'd be surprised how often those two things come in tandem for me.

Have I established by now that Habit's a dolly? I have! But I haven't said much else. I suppose now is as good a time as any for a dump.

Well, his father made him. Like, MADE him, all on his own. With a little magic and a little blood and sets of discarded teeth, haaa. Why, you ask....to bring happiness into his life. This is what Habit was always meant to be. A ball of sunshine, sunshine, forever. But...

[ ID: A screencap from the original Powerpuff Girls intro. A scene in mostly red and black shows Professor Utonium looking on in horror as Chemical X mistakenly pours into his formula for making the "three perfect little girls". End ID]

Oh shit, oh no!

There is more to this tale, but for now I shall focus on a few choice aspects.... when you make a doll, you give it a heart. And on it's heart, you shall write. These words will never leave your creation's very being. It is the final step to give them life.

All his father's sadness, jealously ( some towards his brother-in-law's strange satisfaction with his own morbid ragdoll children ), hate, boiling bitterness, selfish desire.... none of it left the doll in the making unscathed. Now, Habit is on his way to being well and truly human. A curse or a blessing, even we mundanely-born humans cannot decide.

( I want to clarify here that what I mean is that IMO humanity of an individual can not exist strictly only in positives, or any sort of clear cut thing like that. )

" я тебя люблю " ( I did not include this text in Russian script itself in the ID because it'd confuse predominantly English screenreaders ) " I love you " is a phrase and sentiment Habit has struggled to accept without suspecting a million unreadable, unreasonable requests hidden underneath. He must re-define his being for himself.

OK...now onto other things...I sure hope you enjoy long text...!

I cross checked the Russian in this a Lot but please tell me if something has still escaped my notice, not a native.

Incase it looks unclear, what Grig is saying is :ты такая красивая

Anyway yeah, Grigory was a more caring figure to Habit growing up I think, as is HC'ed. Specifically I think they'd visit when his mother went over to Russia for the summers or such. So he did not see him very much, but his few memories are precious. Speaking of, this whole picture is a bit inspired by when I first held my baby sister. I was LITERALLY CRYING WHEN FEEDING HER. I was like. Oh my god. Small human. MY human. Must protect!!!

Grigory in my headcanons is related to Habit through being his mother's brother. His father gradually grew more and more distant, disappointed with how Habit was turning out and frankly he's just a shitty parent, fuck this dude. So his mom had to go it alone raising him a lot. She has a sticky relationship with Grigory but she appreciated the help( not always though). I think Grig Grog Eggnog's definitely one of those relatives who go full on STUPID MODE trying to make babies laugh. It amuses me. He's definitely a recluse from most other people, but I guess The Cursed Baby Of 19XX caught his crusty heart. Another thing I think happened is he'd babble talk to tiny Hab when visiting like a lotttttt. I don't know if this would really be directly related, but later in life Habit says nonsensical things, sounds to himself as a vocal stim, for that mouth-feeling. I like to think I'm clever so I said these sounds can correspond to well, how the soundbytes in the actual game are. Example;

If he's picking up Kamal's sounds it'd be " baaaaa baa ba beep worp worp buhhh" OR WHATEVER ELSE OH MY GOD

ANYWAY the lullaby I wrote here is this one

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8f8WYvAo-RA

I thought it's tone fit the bedtime story segment of the game pretty well. And it fits the Twins' like, lightheartedly threatening nature. I suppose if he has good childhood memories associated with it, he would hum it to himself, or maybe ask someone else to sing to him during bad days, etc etc.

LAST thing, Forsaw and Bahd are like, kind of trans (?) IDK how to really explain it but one thing is they "swap" their gender presentations later in life.

Really do not what else I can add on here without making it a small novel!!! Thank you for reading the backstory of this impulse piece.

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betheal · 3 years

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You absolute little shit, say you like me back even though I've only confessed in my dreams

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kaihavoc · 3 years

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Cloud 29

a/n: inspired by my new two favorite videos: this��and this one

Lingering just outside the Chelsea locker room, I wait until I see the last person leave. Well, second to last. Christian passes me by with a toothy grin, telling me to “take good care” of my boyfriend tonight because he earned it. Laughing nervously, I just give him a polite wave, acting like he didn’t just give me that advice, and sneak inside the locker room. There’s only one person who hasn’t burst through the doors and come out to join the festivities. The superstar––the hero––of today’s match. Kai Havertz.

I know Kai; he’s got to be swirling with composed excitement, taking his time to revel in this momentous occasion without the chaos of overexcited screams and cheers. I can just imagine his humble smile, those crinkles rippling across his cheeks, that endearing overbite he’s always been so insecure about. The mere thought of him puts a smile on my face.

I only need to take a few steps when I see him. Considering he’s the only person left in the locker room, he wasn’t that hard to find. I pause in my tracks, absorbing the sight of him: sweaty, shirtless, head down with his back against the metal locker. I make no noise, but he must sense a presence because his head snaps up. Our eyes meet, and his face lights up as he bounds over to me, tackling me in a hug. He towers over me, but that doesn’t stop him from practically leaping into my arms. Yeah, as if I have the upper body strength to carry him. Sometimes I think he forgets I’m not as physically fit as his teammates.

I open my mouth, about to congratulate him, but the dullness in his blue eyes stops me. Something’s off. He’s happy to see me, that’s clear, but, otherwise, he’s not as ecstatic as I thought he would be. Why isn’t he? Not only did his team win the Champions League, but he scored the winning goal. His first goal of the Champions League, no less––he went out with a bang. He should be over the moon.

“You look festive,” Kai comments, playfully tugging on one of my pigtails. I wanted to try something new, so I had tied my long hair into pigtails with two royal blue ribbons. Aside from that, I’m just in my typical outfit I wear whenever he plays a game: one of his old jerseys that he gave me when we first started dating and black leggings. I had considered spicing things up by painting Kai’s initials on my cheeks with blue face paint, but when I brought the idea up to him over dinner last week, he just said he knew a better method to brand me as his. I left it at that without inquiring further, even though I was curious by what, exactly, he had in mind.

“You look… hot,” I gulp, my eyes traveling down his long, toned torso. No matter how many times I’ve seen him shirtless after a practice or a game, or in only a towel after a shower, I’ll never get tired of seeing him half-naked. Or fully naked, at that.

“You look hot, too,” he murmurs into my hair, still embracing me tightly. “I just didn’t want to say that because I was trying to be gentlemanly.” Cupping my face with his large hands, he proceeds to kiss me, feverish and rough. He nips at my bottom lip and doesn’t even wait for me to open my mouth before invading it, battling my tongue with his. His ferocity gets my blood pumping and the pit of my stomach tingling, but it’s all wrong. I’m necessarily complaining, but this isn’t how he usually greets me. He typically welcomes me with a soft, delicate kiss before anything else. Is this because I haven’t congratulated him on his win yet?

“I’m so proud of you, Kai. You and the guys really deserve this,” I say sincerely, but he pretends like he doesn’t hear me, going in for another attack on my mouth. To that, I shrink a little and he catches on, sighing as he takes a step back, his thick eyebrows furrowed together. I notice that the ribbons in my hair are loose, so I quickly readjust them as I try to read Kai’s expression. He still looks… dissatisfied. Maybe some ego boosting would do the trick?

“Everyone’s raving about how you’re a tactical genius. How your skill and precision are unparalleled. How you’re on top and you haven’t even reached your peak yet,” I ramble, trying to recall every headline I’ve ever read in the news this past week. Oh, and also, you’ve got the cutest bum out of any football player in the history of football.

“Not everyone,” he growls in a dark voice, messing up his curly brown locks by snatching them with his hand. His face twists with irritation. “Right after the game, a reporter came up to me and asked me if I thought I finally paid back my hefty price tag.”

“And how did you respond?” I ask, curious. Usually he doesn’t get so riled up over post-game interviews, but perhaps his transfer fee is a touchy subject for him and he just never told me. In an attempt to calm him down a bit, I take his hand into mine and lead him to a section of the bench lined along the lockers. We sit so that we’re facing each other, and I weave my legs around his torso, nearly straddling him. But not quite.

“I think I said… ‘I don’t give a fuck of that. We just won the fucking Champions League’,” he says slowly, his nose scrunched up in concentration as he recalls his response.

I stifle a laugh. His cussing is not a regular occurrence, it’s not entirely uncommon either, but whenever he does curse, it catches me off guard. Maybe it has something to do with that pretty face of his, as if foul language shouldn’t be coming from it. “You’re right; you did just win the Champions League, so you shouldn’t be hard on yourself,” I say, lightly poking him in the bicep. He doesn’t seem to appreciate my stab at lighthearted reassurance, so I go for a different approach. Tough love. “Okay, fine. Chelsea may have paid a lot of money for you, but that’s because you’re worth it, Kai. You don’t have to prove your abilities to anyone––even though you already proved them tonight plus your whole career thus far. People are always going to have something negative to say, but you put in the work and it shows in every game. Don’t let anyone get to you, especially not a reporter; they’re just trying to get some dirt.” I’m not used to giving pep talks, so I’m not sure if I did it right.

I must’ve done something right because his frown is replaced with a slight smile. “Thank you, baby,” he says, pecking me on the cheek. One Kai’s best qualities is that not much gets to him; and if it does, it doesn’t take him long to get over it. Annoying interview question long forgotten, he traces patterns on my thigh and tells me, “The boys are going to a nightclub tonight to celebrate our win. Come with me.” To aid in his plea, he grabs both of my hands, squeezing them, his pale blue eyes gleaming with hope.

“A nightclub?” I repeat, making a sour face. “You know better than anyone that I don’t belong at a nightclub.” I want to suggest just a cozy night in, watching his favorite film of the Harry Potter series, Goblet of Fire, and cuddling, but I don’t want to take this celebratory night with his friends away from him.

“You belong with me, and it just so happens that tonight I’m being dragged to a nightclub,” he says. I don’t say anything, and his face falls, presumably because he recognizes his bid to get me to go is a lost cause.

“You go,” I encourage, trying to sound upbeat as I pat his thigh. “Have your fun.”

“Really?” he asks. “Are you sure?” He gives me a dubious look, one eyebrow severely cocked.

I squint at him quizzically. “Yes. Why wouldn’t I be?”

He looks me dead in the eyes. “Babe. Let’s not forget what happened the last time I went out for drinks with the team for Timo’s birthday. I came back home with a ripped shirt because a bunch of girls pounced on us, and you wouldn’t talk to me for a whole week. You didn’t believe me.”

“That’s because it’s an unbelievable story,” I mumble.

“You accused me of hooking up with another girl,” he reminds me, his mesmerizing eyes narrowing at me, causing my cheeks to heat up and my skin to crawl with guilt. Now that he’s mentioned it, I do remember that incident. Vividly. It happened around the beginning of our relationship, when I still didn’t know how serious Kai was about me, about us. Regardless, I should’ve known that Kai would never be unfaithful to me. That’s simply not who he is. He has never once given me an inkling of a doubt of his loyalty. I blame my foolish allegation on my insecurity over our blossoming relationship, but I’m long past that…

“You’re too friendly, Kai,” I sigh, ruffling his hair to make it seem more like a concern and less like an accusation. “It makes girls think they can have a chance with you.”

“Girls?” Kai scoffs, shaking his head in pure denial. How can someone so intelligent be such a dumb boy sometimes? “What girls? That happened one time, and it wasn’t only me who got jumped. The whole team did.” Like that makes the situation any better, Kai.

“I’m not dating the whole team! I’m dating you, and you’re only going to get bigger and I… I just want you all to myself,” I admit. My head falls, weighted by a vicious mix of embarrassment and shame.

“Well, I know something that’s big that you can have all to yourself,” he says coyly, with a self-righteous smirk.

“I’m serious, Kai,” I say, frowning at him in return. “You’re young, talented, attractive. Girls are going to be lining up for you, and soon I’ll just be chopped liver.”

“Chopped liver?” he hoots, obviously unfamiliar with the expression.

My frown deepens as I huff, “You’re going to forget all about me.”

“I think if anyone’s guilty of forgetting anything, it’s you. You’re already forgetting that I’m in love with you,” he coos, sliding closer to me, dusting my neck and collarbones with soft-lipped kisses.

“Get away from me. You’re all sweaty,” I complain––mostly so as to not give into his seduction techniques too easily––but it’s half-hearted.

“You’re about to be, too,” he growls, lifting me and dropping me on his lap. I can feel him harden underneath me, and I respond by rocking my body against his, inciting staggered, tense moans from the both of us at the same time. The sounds that come out of his mouth are music to my ears. With a hunger to hear more, I reach in between us, stroking his length through his thin shorts, loving how fully aroused he gets at my slight touch. His breathing quickens, but when I don’t hear anything from him, I look at him, witnessing his bottom lip in between his teeth, suppressing those sweet moans I so desperately want to hear him make.

Suddenly, he’s tugging at my leggings; he’s so aggressive that I’m afraid he’s going to rip them. After he shimmies them off, I kick them to the side, and Kai’s eyes ravage the bottom half of my body. I’m thankful I had the good foresight to wear lace panties instead of my go-to granny panties, but at this point they’re drenched. They have been ever since I walked in and saw Kai; just one look at him does unspeakable things to me. His ability to reduce me to a mere puddle with just his eyes is unnerving.

He removes my shirt and purses his lips when he sees that I’m not wearing a bra. My chest is ample-sized, but I can comfortably go without a bra––often doing just that––and it drives him mad. He says I shouldn’t go prancing around braless because I’ll be practically naked when ogling guys undress me with their eyes. I say that doesn’t make sense.

He yanks his shorts and boxers down in one swoop, and the heat between my legs intensifies. If his massive hands and long fingers were any indication of what he has to offer, the blanks fill themselves out––he’s glorious. I can’t help but gawk and admire him; Kai is perfect in every singular way. If I had no self-control, I’d lick every inch of his pale skin. I lower myself onto him and gasp with pleasure when just the tip enters me. Slowly, I bounce up and down on him, each time driving him deeper inside me until he fills me completely. My head rolls back as I continue the rhythmic movement, and I moan when he licks a stripe in the valley between my breasts. My fingers tangle themselves in his curly locks as he takes one of my nipples into his mouth, sucking on it while tinkering with the other between his fingertips.

“Oh, Kai,” I whine, feeling the intolerable pressure building up in my stomach.

“That’s it, baby,” Kai purrs against my chest as I tighten around him. “Say my name. Just like that.”

“K-Kai––” I cry, quivering against his body; my vision is blurry and I’ve lost function in my legs. Kai’s taken over, his fingers digging into my hips, thrusting into me, hitting my most sensitive spot time after time. I’m on the verge of seeing stars when it all stops. Before my brain can process what’s happening, I’m balancing on all fours on the bench as Kai positions himself behind me, his erection rubbing against me. With one thrust, he buries himself inside me, reaching around to rub my clit in a slow circular motion. I was not prepared for that. The combination of sensations is enough to drive me over the edge, but what drives me even crazier is the heat as he presses his firm chest up against my back.

“Who do you belong to?” he demands in my ear, humming. I tune him out, focusing on getting my fix and nothing more. I can barely get his name out, what makes him think I can have a coherent conversation? “I don’t like being ignored,” he warns sharply.

My arms and legs are shaky, and the only thing keeping me from crumbling to the floor are his hands, holding me steady as he rolls his hips. “You,” I finally breathe.

“Dunno who that is,” he drawls, and I could swear he’s purposely applying more pressure to his accent just to mock me.

“You. Kai,” I hiss and close my eyes to try to block him out, but that only heightens my senses to everything he’s doing to me.

“Kai who? There are many Kais,” he says matter-of-factly. His fingers slow down around my sensitive area, and I’m afraid he’s going to withhold euphoria from me.

“Kai––fucking––Havertz,” I half moan, half gasp as his fingers pick up their pace and he slams into me, the final push that sends me soaring into bliss. I never cuss unless I have a really good reason for it and lashing my frustration out on the infuriating tease that is Kai Havertz is a good enough reason for me. However, he makes up for his devilish nature by understanding every nook and cranny of my body. On cloud nine, I ride out the high to the fullest extent before my body goes fully limp. I suck in a breath when he pulls out, only to feel the warm liquid on my back coming in spurts.

“Fuck,” he moans, and I just wish I could watch him as he comes undone. I think it’s hot when he releases his load on me––I like it best when he does it on my chest. So I can marvel at him with his sweat-matted hair, throbbing Adam’s apple, and fluttering eyelids. He wipes my back with his/my jersey and pulls me into his lap.

“The way you moan my name, I’ll never be able to forget you,” he sighs, nibbling on my neck.

“How romantic,” I tease. But really, I’d be content calling out only his name for the rest of my life. Kai fucking Havertz.

“C’mon, baby, let’s get you cleaned up,” he says, rising to his feet cheerfully. His fingers lace in mine as he starts for the shower stalls. My heart thumps wildly in my chest as my feet pad excitedly across the tile floor alongside him. Another great quality about Kai: his stamina is unmatched, on and off the football field.

*a/n: if you do by chance read this, I’d love to know what you think of it!

#kai havertz #kai havertz imagine #kai havertz one shot #kai havertz fanfic #football fanfiction #kai havertz fanfiction #footballer imagine #footballer blurb #chelsea fc #football fanfic #football blurb #Kai havertz smut #smut #fanfic #fanfiction #one shot #imagine #drabble

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liquid-luck-00 · 3 years

Text

Seven Deadly Sins x Maribat

Medieval Au

@maribat-bdbwm

Based on this idea

~~~~~~~~~~

Ten years ago.

On the outskirts of the city of Liones, of the capital of the country Liones, in the land of Britannia, homes destroyed, and countless holy knights laid butchered in the streets.

That day will go down in history for its infamy, the day the Seven Deadly Sins betrayed the country of Liones.

---

This is a tale of ancient times, an era before the human and non-human worlds were forever divided. When the Holy Knights, defended the realm, wielding their magical powers they were feared and highly respected. But among them a group emerged, that betrayed the kingdom, and became mortal enemies to all Holy Knights. They were known throughout the land as the Seven Deadly Sins.

---

Present day.

Near the Kaynes Village, there was a new tavern that was a buzz with customers.

“Here you go, drink up.” A young girl placed five steins of ale on the table. She had dark black hair that shown blue, pulled into twin pigtails by two pink ribbons, and bangs that framed her face and blue eyes. She wore a collared off-white shirt under a black vest with green panels. A pink skirt over leggings that reached halfway down her calf. And wore black and green boots. As more people come in, she directs them all with a smile.

“For a little lady, she is one hard working waitress.” A customer acknowledges.

“Oh no, I’m not the waiter, Buddy” She turns around. “I’m the owner of this place.” She turns to walk away.

“She’s the owner?!? A young kid like that.” But she doesn’t hear them.

“Alright, fresh from the oven. The meat pie that made the Boar Hat famous. Enjoy.” Three patrons dug into the pie, and promptly got sick. “You should have known. Our reputation is for having really good booze, but the food not so much.” She said with a completely straight face.

“Are trying to mess with us you little punk.” One shouted ready to fight.

“Wait guys, she’s packing a sword.” Another of the three pointed out. The handle was an emerald green and looked like a dragon with ruby eyes.

“Well, you guys, looks like we have a problem.” Her smile fell and she snapped her fingers. “Now let’s fix it.”

“Come on you call that a mess.” Out trotted a shiny black pig, wearing an earring tag. “Really what do you need me for?”

“Wait!!! That pig. He’s talking.”

“Yes, I’m a talking pig, what a bunch of dum-dums.”

“Plagg, we need to get this floor cleaned.” She spoke.

“Ugh, what a hassle.” Plagg complained. “Scrap disposal is a tough business.” He ate leaving, but before he did, he retorted. “Next time there better be some decent sized scraps.”

“You know I have an old family recipe for whole roasted hog.” She spoke to no one in particular, but with a deadpanned expression. Which changed Plagg’s tune quickly.

Then someone barged in. “I saw it. I really saw it.” He sat down. “I swear to all that is holy. I saw the wandering Rust Knight.”

“That’s just a made-up story, like how parents get their kids to stop misbehaving. The Seven Deadly Sins will come in blood rusted armor, oooh ahhh.”

“The Seven Deadly Sins?” She asks from behind the bar.

“You’ve never heard of them? They’re wanted posters are hanging everywhere, like those over there.”

She looks at the board and there were seven faces and seven names. Marinette, Chloe, Adrien, Luka, Felix, Lila, and Kagami.

“How long has it been? Ten years. When all those holy knights were slaughtered so fast, they couldn’t defend themselves. It was the Seven Deadly Sins that did it. From what I've been told the way the holy Knights’ grandmaster was killed was too gruesome for anyone to look at.” They began to talk amongst themselves.

“They say their captain, Marinette, is the scariest of them all. It's even said that she's brought down whole countries on her own.” Everything went quiet.

Until another patron spoke up. “Well none of them have been caught yet have not a single one.”

“They’re dead, they have to be the new Holy Knights would never let them live after what they've done.”

“Yeah you've got a point even now with the kings sick. The Holy Knights are making sure that the Kingdom stays safe for all its people. But those notices up on the board get updated every single year. Doesn’t that mean those seven criminals are still out there?”

“Yeah well some spooky knight walking around in rusty armor sounds pretty ridiculous to me.”

“You’re right.”

A crash, scraping, and banging was heard just outside the Tavern door.

“That smells an awful lot like rust to me.” Plagg sniffed the air and then cowered behind the counter.

The door opened and there stood the rusted knight. “The Seven Deadly Sins…” Hhe moaned as he entered the Tavern.

Screaming, panic, and everyone rushing out of the Tavern ensued. Fleeing from the rusted knight.

The girl jumped over the counter and stood her ground defiantly looking at the Rust knight. “Now who are you?”

The Rust knight swayed and then fell to the ground collapsed. His helmet rolled off of him. And then they saw his face, his eyes shut tight in the pain and exhaustion, his black hair short and messy stuck to his face from the sweat. And he wore a singular earring, a true blue engraved with something in red and gold.

“This kid is one of the Seven Deadly Sins?” Plagg asked the girl, and they took him up to the room taking the armor off of him. “He's just a boy.”

“Let’s just make sure.” The girl went up to the boy and started poking him first on his thigh, then his stomached, his bicep, she was leaning over him and was about to poke his cheek when his eyes flew open. “Yep, he's a boy.”

“Um, pardon me but what am I doing here?” He was quiet and soft spoken.

“Oh yeah you came into my bar then you passed out cold.”

“Your bar?”

“Yeah, the Boar Hat, my Tavern.”

“You’re the owner?”

“Is that so weird?”

“I just saw that sword, so I naturally assumed.”

“Oh, this old thing.” She motioned and pulled the sword from its scabbard. “Ha ha ha. Yeah, I guess if you only see the handle, it can fool ya huh.” All that rose up and out with her hand was the handle and a small stub was left of the blade, which was practically worthless in a fight. “It makes guests think twice about skipping out on their tabs.” She put the sword handle back into its scabbard on her back.

Which was when they moved downstairs to the raven again. Marinette cooked up something for the boy, and set the plate in front of him.

“First you nurse me back to health, now you're feeding me, how can I possibly thank you enough.” He barely choked out.

“First before saying thanks you should probably try the food first.” Plagg’s nasally voice cut into his words.

“What do you think? Awful isn't it.” She leaned down on the bar now watching him eat with a grin on her face.

“Yes.” He responded.

Which caused both her and Plagg to respond in unison. “Knew it was.”

But then something shocked them, he started to cry.

“Still its delicious.” Tears fell down his face.

“So what exactly were you doing walking around in that old armor, anyways?” She asked the boy.

“I'm on a personal quest to find the Seven Deadly Sins.” He answered.

“Why would you do that? You don’t even know if those guys are even still alive or not, and they’re serious villains.” Plagg reasoned.

That was when banging was heard on the tavern door, knights banged on the door, and ordered them to open up for them.

That was when she noticed the boy got slightly afraid at the mention of Knights.

After a moment of the Knights bickering to themselves, that gave her just enough time to think. She went and opened the door.

“Who are you?” One of the Knights asked her as she opened the door.

“I'm the owner of this place. What do you want?” She was relaxed.

“The Rust Knight is in there, send him out!” The same knight answered.

“Alright.” She turned around and looked back. “You might want to come out now.”

They all looked past her and saw Plagg dressed in the armor that the boy was wearing walk out.

“You have some nerve mocking the Knights of this land like this.” He grabbed her by the shirt and lifted her up off the ground. She was small, sure but he still held her up a meter off the ground.

That’s when the boy had snuck out of the back and made a run for it into the forest. Unfortunately, he was seen. “Look a boy just ran out, after him.”

The knight threw her back to the ground and she and Plagg shared a worried look.

The two of them ran after the boy and the Knights, Plagg mowed down, tackling each and every one, while she went after the boy. The last knight got pushed down off of the cliff at the edge of the forest by Plagg. While she and the boy were safely out of the way in one of the trees at the edge.

“So why are you looking for the Seven Deadly Sins anyways?” She asked him once they were back on the ground.

“To stop the Holy Knights.” He answered.

“Are you serious!! Why in the world would you wanna do that?” Plagg exclaimed. “The Holy Knights are the king’s men, the knights are here to protect us they are heroes.”

“But what if they were behind a plot to start a war in our country. Except for the king himself, the entire royal family was arrested and is being held by the Holy Knights.”

“Does that mean the king isn't really sick in bed?” Plagg asked the boy.

“That’s just a cover story the Holy Knights are using. I don't know what they think they can accomplish by driving the nation to war, but now they're drafting people. Taking men wherever they can get them they're preparing for war everywhere you look. So their reach will even extend all the way out here.” He shook his head.

“Yeah tough break, huh?” She finally responded.

“Wow you don't have any empathy at all. How does this tie back to the Seven Deadly Sins again?” Plagg shook his head.

“If there's even the slightest hope of preventing the Holy Knights from doing this. I know they're the only ones who can.” He was resolute.

“Just checking here.” She Butt in again. “You’re trying to find those guys even though you know what kind of people they are?”

“The Seven Deadly Sins are the most vile Order of Knights the Kingdom ever produced, made up of seven vicious bloodthirsty criminals each one branded with the mark of the beast. Ten years ago when they were suspected of trying to overthrow the Kingdom the Knights of the realm launched a full force attack scattering them to the four winds.”

“Well if you believe the rumors they each died a long time ago.” She spoke distractedly.

“Such amazing people wouldn't possibly let themselves get killed!”

“But they are criminals aren't they causing the suffering of the people right now?” She asked confused.

“When I was small, only five or six years old, my father would tell me stories about them and that's when I learned they are the most powerful Knights!”

A rumbling was heard and then the edge of the cliff they were on started to crumble and fall beneath them, dropping them down.

“I did not confirm whether or not they were people named in the report. Conclusion two individuals of unknown origin dead. What do you think men that sounds about right?” A man wearing red armor, silver grey hair and mustache.

“But Sir Twiggle, one of our knights was still under the cliff.”

“Simply put three fatalities in the report then.” Twiggle answered haughtily.

“But Sir, you can't! That’s too far even for you”

“How about seven fatalities instead?” The knight in red armor moved towards the rest of his men, but that was also when she jumped back up on to the cliff with not only the boy and Plagg in her arms but also the knight who fell.

“When I give a signal to you run into the forest got it.” She spoke quietly to the boy.

“Which one of them would you believe to be a member of the Seven Deadly Sins. Neither bears any resemblance to the wanted posters?” He then noticed something. “God is smiling upon me today, the crystal earring you're wearing is from the royal family. Conclusion you are Prince Jonathan!”

“Wait hold on Prince Jonathan?” The knights shouted.

“You're a Prince?” She added softly.

“Orders from the Capital are to determine your whereabouts. the order was to capture you alive and in healthy condition, but if you lost your life in an unfortunate accident…” Twiggle spoke aloud.

“I can't allow myself to get captured not yet!”

“Conclusion accidental death.” Sir Twiggle let off a shockwave of air magic chopping the entire forest down to the ground.

“Hi there, you alright?” She had pulled him down and covered him from the blast. “Plagg?”

“Seriously I'm a shaved pork on a skewer.” He cried. A single small little twig had splintered in his back. And he went off crying and screaming Tikki.

Johnathan stood and started to walk towards Twiggle. “Johnathan. Hey! What are you doing?” She called after him.

“There’s no escape.”

“Wait hang on you just said you couldn't afford to be caught or to give up.”

“Maybe if I surrender myself peacefully, he'll agree to take me back with him and your life can be spared.”

Sir Twiggle sent off another blast cutting into everything again, but she was able to tackle him out of the way just in time.

“Please get out of here while you still can.” He begged her.

“I think he wants to make sure neither one of us gets out of here alive.” She noticed as She was above him once more. After the attack ensuring he was fine yet again, the only real damage done to her, and that was her left sleeve was completely torn revealing her entire arm from shoulder to fingers. A mark barely visible on her shoulder.

“I was so happy when I met you. Searching for the Seven Deadly Sins, I so scared alone in that rusty armor. There wasn't any help I could ask for. Then you show up and show me such kindness, someone that you've never met before. I don't wanna see you hurt my problems anymore when I don’t even know your name.”

Memories flashed behind her eyes and a smile spread on her lips.

“Marinette. If you really wanna know.” She grinned from ear to ear.

“I… I don't believe it you can't be you're just.” Tears threatened to fall from his eyes.

That was when the knight who fell with them regained consciousness jumping up. “Where's the girl the one with the sword. I saw it when she saved me from the cliff the symbol it was right there. The symbol on her shoulder it… it… it’s her.”

Sir Twiggle struck again now closer, right on top of them. The magic was unleashed but Marinette stood up and was now facing the Knight.

“How is this possible? My technique was flawless I am certain my blade struck her!” Twiggle began to look even more and more frazzled. “But I was the one who felt the force of the blow. How could it have hit me?! And what is that in your hand?! A broken blade! Broken blade… now your face is beginning to look familiar. Truly it can’t! How can you look exactly the same as you did then?!? No matter your time's up! How dare you still exist!”

Their blades clashed their magic erupted, which sent Twiggle and his men flying high, high into the sky almost like a meteorite.

“Extraordinary power.” Johnathan breathed.

“Captain of the Seven Deadly Sins, the Dragon sin of Wrath, Marinette.” She announced.

~~~~~~~~~~

Permanent Taglist: @itsmeevie01 @adrestar @miraculouspenta @vixen-uchiha @animegirlweeb @jumpingjoy82 @thedragonbug @astoriaandroses @icerosecrystal @t1dwarrior-of-earth @moon5606 @zalladane @midnightrosecrystal @myazael @prettylittlebutterflie @toodaloo-kangaroo @roseisred @galaxymoon @queenz-z @mystery-5-5

Event Taglist: @ladybug-182 @nerd-nowandforever @stelliones @trippingovermyfeet @thepaceperson @all-mights-asscheeks @another-cancer @alyssadeliv @mep-kittyjustkillme @ravennm84 @chocolatecatstheron @jayjayspixiepop @missanalysis @lost-in-the-world-of-maribat @aespades @when-no-wings-do-broomsticks @ritacrow-blog @frieddonutsweets @laurcad123 @ashbrea381writings @jjmjjktth @alexizlazy @ultimatetornshipper @kashlyn @how-to-function-properly

Story Taglist: just ask because after the bio dad even I won’t add the Event Taglist

#yes we won5 find out that Bruce is Mari’s father for a long time #but it’s there #sort of #maribat #dc x mlb #mlb x dc #dc x miraculous #miraculous x dc #miraculous x nanatsu no taizai #maribat x nanatsu no taizai #nanatsu no taizai x maribat #nanatsu no taizai #mdcu marinette #mdcu jon #mdcu plagg #bio!dad bruce wayne #bio!dad bruce #bdbwm2021

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soulmate-game · 4 years

Text

Bio Dad Bruce Wayne Month 2020

Day 2: Father Daughter Bonding

Marinette had known her father was Bruce Wayne since she was thirteen, and the man showed up on her balcony one day in full bat-attire exactly one month after Hawkmoth appeared. He had apparently spent the whole month sorting through all of his magical contacts and trying to figure out who the heroes were so he could offer help—only to realize that the apparent leader of the duo of heroes was his biological daughter that he never met or told about his existence.

Okay, so the majority of the month was actually spent on him trying to figure out how to deal with the daughter he had never met becoming a superhero, even a leader of a team, without his assistance or influence whatsoever. But. Regardless. It ended up with him taking a Zeta tube at midnight in Gotham, and ending up on Marinette’s balcony as she got ready for school.

That was when Marinette learned about Bruce Wayne being both Batman and her biological father. After, of course, a brief heart attack at seeing a stranger outside her trap door.

But besides that short visit, Bruce had largely respected Marinette’s order request to stay out of Paris. He understood, after all he held a similar policy for metas in Gotham. Didn’t mean he was happy about leaving Marinette to deal with her supervillain without any reliable backup, but he stayed out of the city nonetheless.

But, there was Marinette’s lack of training to see to. She was not completely untrained, she knew at least two types of martial arts pretty well and her gymnastics ability was second only to Dick himself. But for a superhero? No, she needed a lot of teaching still. So Bruce had arranged for her to spend some holidays and a weekend or two that she could get away with over at Gotham (via Zeta tubes or other portal of course) for him and the other Bats to personally instruct her. Now, three annoying years later without any solid evidence to land Gabriel in the brig (though they all knew by then that he was definitely Hawkmoth), Marinette decided to switch things up.

She landed on a gargoyle’s head, on one of her rare patrols with Batman. She wasn’t Ladybug there, instead deciding to go by the simple name Rouge Wing, as both a play on her native language and the fact that red bats are considered lucky in China. She didn’t wear her Miraculous on these patrols, instead using the rare opportunity to develop her natural skills. And prove once and for all to her stupid brother that, yes, she could keep up with him. And, no, it didn’t matter if she didn’t grow up in a temple learning how to kill, she can still hang him upside down by his ankles if he upsets her one more time—.

Right. The gargoyle.

Batman landed on the rooftop behind her, raising an eyebrow under his cowl. “Don’t you usually make fun of me for perching like that?” He asked, crossing his arms. Robin landed on that same rooftop a moment later, choosing just to sit on the lip of the building and swing one leg lazily over the edge. He and Marinette tended to get along at least half the time nowadays, which Bruce considered An Accomplishment. Marinette only hummed, blue eyes hidden behind her red domino mask as she gazed over the dark city.

“I’ve just been thinking—“

“Nothing new there,” Robin interrupted. “Should I be on the lookout before you run into a wall again?”

Marinette tossed one of her batarangs at him, which he only had to duck to dodge. Sticking her tongue out like a Mature Teenager, she continued. “You guys do things really differently here in Gotham. Which makes sense, of course, because Gotham is a lot different than Paris. But…”

“But?” Batman prodded, deciding to sit on the rooftop and lean one arm on the lip of it so he could lean towards his blood children.

“But it’s been three years. You hardly ever get out of Gotham besides JL meetings or missions, Dad. And, well, if you promise to keep a handle on your emotions—“

Robin snorted, before realizing where this discussion was going. His eyes widened behind his mask in disbelief. “No way.”

Marinette glared at him half heartedly for a moment before completely turning around on her gargoyle and facing Batman. “We don’t see each other enough. And it’s not easy for me to come to Gotham all the time. So maybe, just this once, you can come to Paris and patrol with me? Next week, maybe?”

Bruce couldn’t talk for a moment, just staring at his daughter with his mouth slightly agape. Marinette had been very specific: no non-miraculous heroes in Paris. Period. Not him, not Robin, nobody, because she wasn’t sure she and her partner would be able to win against an Akumatized hero with years of experience.

Robin tossed a birdarang at Batman, which he dodged on instinct. “Well, he’s still alive,” he remarked to his sister. Rouge Wing had scooted closer somewhere during Batman’s shock, looking minorly concerned.

“What brought this on?” Bruce finally asked, making his daughter sigh in relief at the proof of his consciousness.

“Well, multiple reasons. For one, I know now that I am capable of at least restraining you until I have the chance to break an akumatized item, so there aren’t too many worries there anymore. And I only see you once every month if I’m lucky—“

“And her birthday is next week,” Robin supplied easily, smirking at the glare his sister sent him at that.

“Traitor,” Marinette grumbled, puffing out her cheeks a little. Considering the two of them were only a month apart in age, with Damian being the older of the two, it wasn’t unusual for Bruce to forget about one or the other. Summer birthdays in general were hard for him to remember, what with all the spring birthdays that he strained to keep up with.

“Oh, oh,” Bruce sighed, rubbing a hand over his cowl-covered forehead. “That’s right. I’m sorry, of course I’m more than happy to visit Paris next week. Maybe we can even do more than one day?”

Marinette relaxed, nodding. “That would be nice. Just, not in your civilian persona. Bruce Wayne is too recognizable, even in Paris, but a visit from Batman would be shrugged off as just us getting help. But, in order for everything to work, it would probably have to be a day patrol.”

Batman flinched a bit. That’s right— his daughter was a day hero. He wasn’t looking forward to patrolling in full daylight, but he owed her this at least.

“I’ll be there.”

—*—*—*—*—*

When Batman arrived on Marinette’s balcony (actually expected, this time), it was to see the poor girl covered head to toe in ribbons and balloons that all had some variation of “sweet sixteen,” “happy birthday,” and “16!” On them. She hadn’t even been able to transform yet, her Kwami just munching on a cupcake and giggling at her expense. She even had a party hat on her head, but judging by the way she was trying to wrestle it off it hadn’t been put on her head willingly.

“Need help?” Bruce asked when he entered her room, peeling his cowl back and grinning a little at the awkward sight she made. Marinette groaned, looking at him with the most pitiful expression ever.

“Please! Maman and Papan always like celebrating my birthday, and they’ve gone over the top a few times, but I think they went a bit…” she pulled at one of her pigtails, releasing a waterfall of glitter. “Crazy this year.”

Bruce chuckled, walking over and helping to untangle the various ribbons, streamers, and other celebratory restraints that had trapped the petite Parisian. Then, once she was completely untangled and only stubborn confetti and glitter remained, Bruce hung a small box to one of her pigtails by one of it’s bow-loops. She let out a surprised laugh, rolling her eyes at him before pulling it off and looking at it properly.

On a little white card it said: “Happy 16th, Marinette!” In Bruce’s handwriting. It was a small, black box with silver ribbon tied around it in a bow. Marinette couldn’t help but snort at the color choice, sending her dad a knowing look that he dutifully ignored. Carefully removing the bow and unwrapping it, she opened the box to see two little silver, bat-shaped hair pins. Carefully taking them out, she could feel that they were real metal, and surprisingly sharp.

“You can wear them however you want in your hair, to hold your bangs back or in your pigtails,” Brice decided to explain. “They have trackers in them—no, don’t give me that look. They only activate if you tap SOS on one of them. If you hold down the back of the clip, you can extend small blades if you ever need to cut yourself out of a trap or defend yourself.”

“You gave me mini batarangs for my hair,” Marinette teased, but immediately clipped them to her pigtails. “I love them. Ready for patrol?”

“Whenever you are,” he agreed before pulling his cowl back down.

One transformation and some travel later, and they were at the Eiffel Tower to plan their route.

“Obviously, Paris is too big for me to patrol the whole place on my own alongside school and Akumas,” Ladybug explained. “Even with Chat Noir’s help, it’s too big. So, just like you guys back in Gotham, we have routes that we rotate out. But the police here actually do their job and can handle most criminals, so our patrols follow a different logic than in Gotham.”

Batman nodded, holding his chin as he considered that. “That makes sense. Instead of focusing so much on the more crime-heavy parts of the city, especially since Hawkmoth hasn’t akumatized any criminals yet, it makes more sense to focus on areas around schools, tourist sites and other hotspots for recreation, and the general residential area.”

Marinette nodded. After talking a bit more about how she and Chat normally patrolled, and why, they actually hit the rooftops. It only took thirty minutes before Marinette had to intervene, grabbing Batman’s shoulder before he could punch a purse snatcher. The criminal in question, clutching a sparkly holographic purse in utter terror, couldn’t even muster the courage to run in the face of the famous Dark Knight. Ladybug glared at the older hero for a second before turning to the thief and shrugging with a lopsided smile.

“Sorry, he’s still not used to Parisian crime stopping. I’m reigning him in though, no worries,” she assured him. Just as the thief began to back away though, her yo-yo sprung out and wrapped him up head to toe, allowing Ladybug to grab the purse with a smile. “Thank you, I’ll take that. Remember Batman, minimal force. This isn’t Crime Alley.”

Batman grumbled. “It was just gonna be one punch,” as he zip tied the guy and dragged him to the corner for the police to pick up. Ladybug returned the purse.

“See? A daytime patrol isn’t that bad,” Ladybug remarked as she ran over the rooftops with Batman, deciding that sticking closer to her dad was more important than going as fast as possible. Batman grunted, but Ladybug saw his minuscule grin.

“I still prefer the night.”

“Only because you don’t stick out like a sore thumb at night,” she teased. And then the Akuma Alarm went off.

—*—*—*—*—*

Marinette panted as she lay sprawled over her bed, catching her breath. Bruce was slumped in her computer chair, cowl off and head curving over the top of the headrest. After a moment, Marinette spoke up;

“You look peaceful.”

“When I’m winded?” He cracked an eye open to shoot her a tired but still deadpan look. She snorted.

“No. With your eyes closed. And cheer up, it was only Gigantitan. Not anywhere near the worst we could have gotten.”

“I think you’re forgetting that I don’t have magic helping me out. Fighting giant children is not something I do often.”

“Oh please, you’ve fought way worse.”

“... that is true.”

“Dad?”

“Mmhmm?”

“Thanks.”

“Of course. Want to go back to Gotham with me and get ice cream before you have to be back for dinner?”

“Read my mind.”

—*—*—*—*—*

hi! Let me clarify something real quick guys. These one shots are for Bio Dad Bruce Wayne Month. Meaning, there are 30 prompts, one for each day of september. These one shots will NOT be connected unless previously stated! This one, as you could probably tell, has NOTHING to do with the story for Day 1. I’m just exploring a bunch of possibilities and letting my imagination run wild for these. Nonetheless, I will definitely tag you if you want. Thanks!

@momothefemur @ladybug-182 @starlightshield @trippingovermyfeet @greatcatblaze

#maribat #ml x dc #mlb x dc #b!dbwm2020 #bio dad bruce wayne #platonic brucinette #platonic daminette #B!dbwm #Day Two

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dewykth · 4 years

Text

SWEET SEPTEMBER.

a @periminkle and @dewykth collaboration.

synopsis. for many, september symbolizes new beginnings. but for namjoon, this month never fails to send him back into the past. though this time, something seems different.

pairing. kim namjoon | female reader contains. fluff, angst, slice of life au, ballet instructor!reader, single dad!nj word count. 7.5k+ warnings. death mentions, mature audience

dae’s note. surprise !!! this fic is dedicated to my favourite virgo karla @guklvr !! happy birthday bae i hope you enjoy this lil thing me n vira whipped up for u!! (i stress wrote a lot of this ha.) also sry for lying & keeping you up but hopefully this makes u forgive me. but i hope ur day goes amazing ILYSM DUDE !!! <333 and a huge thank you to vira for hopping on board for this idea bc i cld not have done this without her !!! pls give her all the love !!!

vira’s note. KARLAAAA!!! i always gotta scream ur name it’s mandatory to start with a good scream ykno? bUT HAPPY BIRTHDAY GIRL 🥳 i already told u this too many times today but ILYSM !! like that full day without saying a single word to u felt so weird and i kept going into our chat and rereading our mssgs and wishing I was talking to u??? which is weird to admit?? but that literally how much i missed u idk how but im addicted to u so if you leave me I will literally die :))) aNYWAY have the bestestestest day ever and i hope u love the fic bc I ignored all my uni work to finish this !!! (also i feel reallyreallyreally bad about last night sO IM SORRY AGAIN BUT I HOPE THIS IS WORTH IT) 💖

Despite the papers carelessly stuffed into his leather briefcase, the dark coffee stain on his black slacks, and his unkempt locks resembling that of a bird’s nest, Namjoon’s become accustomed to the hectic nature of his mornings.

The kitchen table is practically buried under stacks of files, yet he brushes them aside to allow one corner of the glass surface to peek through. He plops the toddler in his arms onto a high chair before racing to the counter and sloppily pouring some honey nut cheerios into a small bowl, handing it off to his daughter.

“Daddy?” her voice squeaks, a patient smile stretching across her lips. Her brown strands are tied up into pigtails at the crown of her head with pink ribbons that flutter with the movement of her tiny head.

“Yes, angel?” He scurries around to their bedroom, peeling the stained fabric off his body and threading one leg through another pair of slacks fresh from the laundry.

With Namjoon’s focus pinned on checking off the mental to-do list in his head, he misses the gentle, reassuring smile that stretches across her rosy lips. The adoration for her father is clear in her gaze. “You forgot to pour the milk.”

At the reminder, he squawks and hops back to the kitchen on one foot as he maneuvers his other leg through the pant hole. Swinging the fridge door open, he grabs the carton and sloppily pours the milk into her bowl—white droplets leaping out with their newfound freedom and forming perfect domes on the glass tabletop.

Cleaning the mess falls to the bottom of his priorities at the moment, and so he speeds off to the bathroom to ensure that his appearance is presentable for work while Dasom reaches over to pluck a tissue from the box, swiping the milky beads away before diving into her breakfast. She shoves as many cheerios into her small mouth as she can, rushing because she refuses to finish her meal in the car with their wild driver behind the wheel.

Despite her mere four years of age, she knows from experience that a bowl of cereal and a shaky vehicle is a recipe for disaster.

Namjoon races over to his briefcase with most of his hair sleeked back, only the locks of his bangs hanging out to frame his forehead. As he slips his dark blazer on to complete his form-fitting suit, Dasom scoops the last few brown rings into her mouth and slurps the remainder of the liquid.

“Did you finish your milk?” he questions while cramming the edges of the loose leaves that peek past the seam of his briefcase, hurriedly zipping it up and turning to face her.

Dasom flips the edge of the bowl up to display its empty contents, gulping the last of her breakfast down her throat. As per routine, she scans her father for any inconsistencies in his attire, landing on his odd fitting bottoms.

“Daddy, your pants are on backwards.”

His eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets, glancing down to affirm that the pockets at his sides are no longer at the front of his hips. Hastily, he shimmies out of his slacks once more and twists the fabric around to the proper orientation.

Dasom hops off her chair, her bowl and wet kleenex in hand as she waddles over to the sink and waits for him to deposit the dirty dish into the sink and the sullied tissue into the trash. Although her short arms couldn’t reach over the countertop just yet, she’ll diligently drink every last drop of her milk in hopes of growing tall enough to take some of the load off of her father’s back.

He hoists Dasom up at the sight of the red car pulling up to the driveway, squeezing into the back seat. Namjoon doesn’t have to tell the driver to book it, as the calm man in front has learned to keep his foot pressed on the pedal. The car weaves through the morning traffic with concerning speed, snaking through the other vehicles littering the road as if they were no more than stationary pylons, simply there for practice.

Dasom remains on her father’s lap with his arms looped protectively around the seatbelt over her torso. She sinks into his embrace, fiddling around with his long, slender fingers as she watches the blurs of colour speeding past the window.

“Did you put your ballet shoes into your backpack, angel?” Namjoon loosens his grip on her, unhooking one hand to rummage through his own briefcase in order to confirm that he had indeed slid his laptop within the chaos inside. To keep her entertained, he playfully extends his digits out of her reach.

“Of course!” she chirps, a wide grin revealing the gaps between her teeth. The pads of her fingertips brush against his palm and tickle the sensitive skin there when she realizes that her arms lack the length required to latch onto his hand. “I can’t wait for class, we’ve got a new teacher coming in today!”

Humming absentmindedly, he sighs in relief at the sight of the silver device and packs the crumpled papers back in. “What happened to Ms. Kim?”

“She’s teaching the older class now.” The pout on her lips can be heard within the muffled lilt of her voice when she continues, “I asked her to stay until my birthday next week b-but she didn’t.”

Namjoon’s breath hitches at the reminder, but attempts to compose himself for his daughter’s sake. “It’s out of her control, angel, plus she’ll probably swing by anyway.”

His mind starts to fog up with the emotions he thought he buried last year–they swarm his every thought and nibble away at his sanity. He knows better than to believe that they would ever disappear. September will always be an insurmountable month for him.

“I might be a bit late to pick you up later, just sit tight and wait for Daddy, okay?”

She eagerly nods in response, noticing the dull red bricks of her school coming into view. “Okay, bye Daddy!”

Namjoon unlocks the seatbelt, wistfully watching his toddler bounce out of his arms and onto the asphalt below. No matter how many times he drops her off, it’s always difficult to be separated from her bright smile, but he reminds himself that it’s all for her; it makes things a little easier to bear.

“Have a good day at school.” He reciprocates her frantic waving through the window, craning his neck to watch her adorable form become smaller and smaller with the increased distance. Her full cheeks and crinkled eyes are engraved into the back of his mind.

Before long, Namjoon finds himself rushing into his office after an earful from his surly boss about everything from the late hour to the long list of meetings scheduled to all the work he’s got piled up. With his lips pursed and his head bowed, he somehow manages to make it past another lively morning.

Namjoon has a habit of overthinking. He figures it’s normal when you have a stressful job and a four year old full of energy to balance all by yourself. Not that overthinking about his daughter does him any good, because that is far from the reality. If anything, it just makes him, what you’d call, a bit... overprotective (over worrisome if you asked Jin). But it’s something he can’t really help. Even when she had just entered his life, so small and so blissfully unaware of the awful and evil things in the world, all he wanted to do was hold her in his arms and shield her from it all as long as he could.

Though he’s very aware of the fact that it won’t be much longer, that won’t stop him from going over every single little thing that could go wrong in the meantime.

So, of course, when Namjoon’s asshole of a boss makes him stay two hours over his shift, all Namjoon can think about is Dasom. Is she okay? Has she eaten anything? Did she drink enough water today? She’s always dehydrated after her classes too. He usually calls Ms. Kim to check up on her, but his calls went straight to voicemail, which definitely wasn’t helping his hectic mind. Perhaps something had happened to her?

Oh god, maybe someone broke in and had injured Dasom?

The doors are thrown open, the sound of the doorknob hitting the wall reverberating through the room. The receptionist wearing her usual polka-dot dress jumps in her seat, eyes lifting from the intense scene on her phone to the entrance of the building. An unsure smile stretches across her ruby red lips at the familiar figure, though a bit disheveled and breathless. But before the customary ‘hello’ can even form on her tongue, the figure is rushing past her, leaving only a gust of air in his wake. The papers on her desk fall to the ground, and she sighs.

Namjoon is prepared to fight the (fictional) person who thinks breaking into a toddler ballet class is a good idea, but the scene in front of him once he pushes past the doors of the studio is one he is wholly unprepared for.

He sees Dasom first, and the relief that fills his body is indescribable. It’s far from the usual sight he’s greeted with when he picks her up late. She’s not sitting on one of the chairs in the far corner of the room. His heart doesn’t feel heavy, which comes with seeing his daughter so glum. This time it’s her laughter that greets him, not one provoked by him but by the figure standing in the middle of the room with her.

Dasom doesn’t seem to be aware of the presence of her dad yet, but the figure twirling her around turns, and her eyes land on Namjoon.

The reaction is immediate. The carefree smile that had been on your face slips off, a look of embarrassment and surprise overcoming your features. Namjoon only catches a glimpse, and somehow finds himself wishing that won’t be the last time he sees it. You let go of Dasom’s hand, quickly making your way to the stereo on the other side of the room. And that’s when-

“Daddy!”

Dasom wastes no time running into her father’s open arms, and Namjoon suddenly can’t remember why he was so worried in the first place. “Hi, angel.” he says, just loud enough for her to hear. She pulls back. “I’m so sorry for getting here so late. I promise i won’t do it again.”

But of course, Dasom holds nothing but forgiveness in her heart for her hard-working father. She does love teasing him, though. “Don't say sorry to me, say sorry to her.” she giggles, pointing behind her and Namjoon furrows his brow until he remembers they’re not the only ones in the room.

His eyes immediately move to where you stand awkwardly near the stereo, eyes moving around the room as if you hadn’t been watching the whole exchange. Namjoon sighs, realizing he definitely can’t avoid talking to you now. He stands straight, holding onto Dasom’s hand as he makes his way over to you. You only seem to grow more nervous as he nears, and Namjoon distantly recalls Jin telling him he came off as intimidating to most people. Something about his ‘beefy’ arms, in his own words. (“And that stupid and unfairly attractive face!”) He goes for a smile because it's not like he can control his physique.

“Hi, I’m so sorry about…”

Namjoon stops.

Maybe it was the overwhelming distress before, or the really shitty lighting of the studio, but he hadn’t realized how pretty you were before. But now he’s standing right in front of you and he can’t seem to form a coherent thought. Pretty can’t be the right word. He realizes how creepy he probably looks, running in here like a madman and then downright staring at the (very beautiful) woman who looked after his daughter? Not cool, man.

You clear your throat, before extending a hand to him. “Hi, I’m ____, the new ballet instructor.”

Your voice sounds just like honey.

Namjoon stares at your hand dumbly, before the sound of Dasom snickering (very discreetly) behind him snaps him out of it. But instead of introducing himself, or apologizing, or just taking your fucking hand, he says-

“What happened to Ms. Kim?”

He mentally face-palms.

Not. Cool. Man.

Your face falls, and Namjoon has never wanted the ground to open up and swallow him whole more than he does now. “Uh, she’s instructing the teen class now.” you chuckle awkwardly, dropping your hand.

“Oh-”

“Daaaad,” Dasom's voice sounds annoyed, and perhaps it’s a bit silly of Namjoon to feel like he’s being scolded, but that is exactly how he feels right now. “I told you this. In the morning. Remember?”

He doesn’t. “Ah, right of course,” Namjoon scratches the back of his neck. It wasn’t like he meant to forget, he had just been too busy thinking about the other things every September would bring. “Sorry, I’m Kim Namjoon. Dasom’s dad.”

This time he offers his hand, and he thanks the skies above that you don’t seem to hate him because you fit your hand against his. Warm, like honey. How long had it been since he last made a fool of himself in front of a pretty girl?

Too long.

“I’m terribly sorry for arriving so late it’s just that my boss, who’s a huge-” Namjoon glances at Dasom, who is now in her own world, singing some song she learned in school, “jerk, decided to assign these reports last minute and the printer would just not work and then traffic hour-”

Your hand comes up to cover your mouth, but Namjoon can see the amusement bubbling in your eyes. He flushes a deep red, eyes falling to the floor, realizing he started ranting.

“It’s okay. Really.”

When he looks back up, there’s a smile on your face. Not like the one before, this one was more reserved, but genuine, reassuring. And just like that, he’s sure you don’t hate him.

Namjoon’s not sure he likes this feeling though.

“Straighten your arms out, girls!” you belt over the classical music that floods the studio’s walls, scanning your army of toddlers in tutus whose arms immediately tense at your command. Making your way through the row, you poke and prod everywhere from their shoulders to their ankles. “Arch your back more, Somin.”

Their muscles violently tremble in response to the strenuous routine you’ve introduced, facial features scrunched in concentration and a resolute will to uphold their positions despite the hyperextension of their limbs. A mix of pity and pride swells in your chest at their effort. “Keep your chins up, the annual recital is only a couple of days away.”

Cheers erupt throughout the small room, disrupting the focus and spoiling their perfect form, yet you refuse to quiet excitement because of the renewed vigour buzzing throughout the room. The next hour depletes all of their built-up energy with demi-piles, pirouettes and sautés.

A glance at the analog clock in the corner informs you of the five minutes remaining before the end of class, so you pause the speakers and instruct the girls to stretch themselves out as they wait for their guardians to trickle in. They collectively sigh in relief before dropping to the floor like flies.

You snort at their dramatics with an amused smile playing at your lips. “I said to stretch, not to lay down and nap.”

“Can’t we nap and stretch at the same time?”

Strolling over to the source of the voice, you cluck your tongue at her limp form sprawled across the wooden floor and cross your arms, struggling to keep your giggles from breaking your angered facade. “And how do you suppose we do that, little Miss Dasom?”

She flashes her toothless grin up at you. “Like this!” With one leg bent over the other and her hands looping around to hold her twisted limbs to her torso, she shuts her eyes and exaggerates her snores.

At this point, it’s nearly impossible to withhold your snickers, and the rest of the class joins in your laughter. You pick up on Dasom’s tinkling giggles between each of her heavy breaths. The lighthearted jokes continue as kids are signed out with bright grins on each of their faces.

You wait for the rest of the toddlers to file out one by one, waving goodbye and checking them off your list until, as usual, Dasom is the only toddler left. Her tiny feet still clad in her faded ballet shoes waddle up to you, tugging on your blouse.

“Your pirouette was a bit wobbly today, do you want to go over—”

“‘M tired,” she interrupts, slouching her shoulders with an adorable frown marring her lips. Her exhaustion is justified, since the routine is rather exhausting, and with their recital right around the corner, you worked them to the bone today.

The odd timing of the switch between you and Ms. Kim left you with a little under a week to tweak and perfect their current choreography. A sloppy routine is not the way you want to present your skills to their parents for the first time, thus you were stricter with the kids than normal.

Your sympathy wins out, and so you gather Dasom’s lithe figure into your arms as you head to the closest wall. With your back supported, you spread out your legs and place her in your lap.

“My birthday is this Thursday.”

“Mhm,” you hum, bobbing your head to signal for her to continue her train of thought.

Her back faces you, but when her head tips down to stare at her hands, you know she’s contemplating her words carefully. Rather than encouraging her to speak freely, you wait for her to feel comfortable enough to reveal her thoughts; and surely enough, her shell cracks open just enough for you to peep through. “Do you wanna come?”

“I would be honoured.” A giddy smile splits across your lips. “Is Daddy picking you up again today?”

She flips around in your hold, wrapping her arms around your waist and snuggling her head to your chest. Her words are muffled into the fabric of your thin shirt, but her tone indicates her affirmation.

Suddenly self-conscious of your heartbeat—that Dasom can definitely hear with her ear pressed up against you—picking up pace at the mention of her father, you suppress your thoughts with a guilty conscience. You internally chide yourself for harbouring feelings for the charming, taken, man, defying arguably one of the most important fundamental rules of becoming an instructor.

Do not develop silly crushes on your student’s parents.

“Ms. ____?” her faint question snaps you out of your reverie, attention brought back to the present moment. While preoccupied, your hand took on a mind of its own, gingerly patting the space between the little girl’s shoulder blades at a slow rhythm.

She gazes up at you when you halt your rhythmic movements, sharp eyes boring into yours. “Are you gonna ask Daddy to come see me dance?”

The edges of your lips flip up in what you hope to be an encouraging smile as you nod your head. Subconsciously, you begin to stress over another encounter with Namjoon, formulating a script to hopefully avoid the stiff, tense atmosphere that lingered throughout all your previous interactions.

“Daddy’s always really busy,” she slurs, drowsiness coating her words and weighing down on her lids. Grumbling under her breath about her numb legs, Dasom crawls onto the floor beside you with her head resting on your thigh. “He’s always working hard for me.”

Your eyes soften at the fetal position she’s taken up on the ground; not only was Dasom lucky to have such a dedicated father, but Namjoon was also blessed with a caring daughter. “You don’t think he can make it?”

“It’s okay,” she whispers and you have to crane your ears to listen. You stroke the strands littering her forehead, gingerly caressing the crown of her head. “It’s okay if Daddy can’t come. I know him, he’s trying to do it all because Mommy’s not with us anymore, but it’s okay. I still love him even if I can’t see him lots.”

A knot forms between your eyebrows, a bittersweet ache forming within the creases of your heart. The painful constriction of your chest ebbs and flows with your shallow breaths that can’t seem to make it past your throat. You bite your lip to subdue the plentiful liquid gathering at your waterline.

No more than a croak escapes your lips before the door to the studio flies open, meeting the adjacent wall with a bang!

“I’m so sorry, my meeting ran late and I couldn’t—” the rest of his speech gets stuck in his windpipe at the sight of you, eyes rimmed red and sniffling, with Dasom, ostensibly dead asleep, on your thigh. “Did she…?”

You blink away your incoming tears, although your dignity has been completely thrown out the window, seeing as he believes that his four-year-old kid made a grown woman, who just so happens to be her ballet teacher, bawl her eyes out.

As you go to gently shake Dasom awake, she sluggishly lifts her head off of your lap and starts to scale your torso like a koala on a tree. Your confusion is vocalized through the high-pitched hum in your throat, but your efforts to pry off her limbs, tightly wound around the small of your waist, are futile.

“Uh, Dasom? It’s time to go home now, angel.” Despite his firm words, Namjoon’s tone is unsure and shaky; he can feel cold sweat build up in the lines of his palms. He knows his daughter, and she can be periodically stubborn and insistent the way children are at her age, thus even as you come to stand, she’s stuck to you like glue. “Would you, uh, did you need a ride?”

You mimic the sheepish smile on his face, hoping the flaming blush you feel on your cheeks isn’t as visible as it seems. “Sure.”

With Dasom latched onto you, both of you make your way to the red car outside after you lock up the studio. Namjoon courteously opens the car door for you, what with your arms supporting his clingy toddler; although, with the brute force he uses, you worry for the state of the hinges. Thankfully, they stay intact and he’s able to slip into the backseat after you.

Before an awkward silence can settle, you clear your throat and prepare to ask him about his day, but you’re interjected by Namjoon’s sudden stammering, “D-driving’s such a hassle for me so Jin drives us everywhere. Jin knows how to drive though, so, don’t worry.” He finishes with a deep chuckle that dies off nearly as quickly as it began. Oh, that’s unexpected.

“You don’t to drive yourself?” Rather than being processed in your brain and logically thought through, the question immediately enters your mouth without any prior scanning for dumbass-content. You instantly regret it, feeling as though it’s much too invasive. “You don’t have to answer that, I—”

The hearty laughter that meets your ears is “No, I do. Sometimes. But its easier raising this one like this.” His tone turns sweet at the mention of Dasom as he reaches over to pat her head, and you’re overcome with an intense desire to prod more into his personal life. Why does he have to work so much? Which shirt in his closet is his favourite? How does he like his eggs in the morning?

“I’m not sure if you already knew about the annual recital on Saturday, but Dasom’s been practicing really hard for weeks and the kids are all really talented, so it would definitely be worth your time...”

As he’s gazing at his daughter, galaxies of devotion and longing swirl within his cocoa irises. The cool light of the moon shines through the windows of the car, illuminating his sharp jawline and strong brows. You’re absolutely mesmerized by the sight in front of you. “You must be really busy, huh?”

“More than I’d like to be.”

You rip your entranced gaze away from Namjoon, willing yourself to steady your frantic breaths.

The remainder of the ride still drips with awkward tension, although with a definite lighter tone than before. Jin pulls up to your apartment with your direction and you dislodge a sleepy Dasom from your torso, which is much easier now that her limbs have gone slack with sleep. Handing her off to Namjoon, who practically engulfs her tiny form with his broad chest, you rush out of the vehicle with a quick, “See you!”

You slam the door closed before he can say anything, racing into the comfort of your home with your heart in your throat.

The last thing you had expected to do on a Thursday evening was to go to a birthday dinner. Thursdays are your days off, your in-days. The ones you spend lounging on your couch with a face mask and some wine. And yet, here you are.

When you received a text this morning, the last person you had expected it to be was Namjoon. Much less Namjoon asking you to come over for Dasom’s birthday. You weren’t going to say yes, hell, you had thought of downright ignoring it. It was weird, wasn’t it? But Dasom had quickly carved a toddler-shaped hole into your heart. Truly, you had said yes before the message was even typed out.

And so now you stare at the tall apartment building in front of you, definitely feeling more nervous than before. You knew that Namjoon had to be well-off to afford a weekday chauffeur, but damn did you not expect him to be this well-off.

It seemed today was the day to expect absolutely anything.

You enter the opulent building, signing in at the front desk before entering the large, mirrored elevator. The beating of your heart picks up the more floors you pass, and you can’t help but fidget with your appearance. Namjoon had said it would only be you three, which you guessed was supposed to calm your nerves but really, it did anything but that. The mere thought of eating dinner with Namjoon was nerve-wracking. But now you were about to eat dinner and enter his home; you had no fucking clue what you were getting yourself into.

The doors slide open, and you step into the hallway. A single door could be seen at the end of the hallway, so you quickly make your way over. You stop right in front, taking a deep breath in before pushing the doorbell. A beat, a crash, another beat, then-

The door swings open, and your breath catches in your throat.

Namjoon looks heavenly as always, but seeing him in clothes other than his usual black slacks makes your heart do a cartwheel. God, this is dangerous.

“Ms. ____!”

Before Namjoon can form a hello, Dasom is running past him and wrapping her small arms around your legs. “You came! See daddy! I told you she’d come.” her tongue pokes out of her mouth, aimed straight at her father and you stifle a laugh.

“Did he think I wouldn’t?” you ask, eyebrow arched as you glance at Namjoon, who seems to have a permanent pink hue on his face.

“He said you wouldn’t!”

“Oh, really? What else did he say?”

“He said I had to help him clean either way!”

“Alright, Dasom. That’s enough.” He says firmly, clearing his throat and trying to act as unaffected as possible. His eyes shift to meet yours. “Why don’t you come inside?”

As much as this day really sucked for Namjoon, today had been… different. Not all too much. Of course, getting up was the hardest part, but he had decided to make Dasom her favourite breakfast meal instead of her usual cereal. He had also made sure to get her all the toys she had been wanting, and planned their day out to do Dasom’s favourite things. Namjoon just wanted this day to be special for her. That was all he cared about.

But when Dasom had asked him to invite you, he had hesitated.

Dasom had never spent her birthdays with anyone else but Namjoon. Not that it was intentional, but Namjoon liked to have this day just for the both of them. Because that’s how it’s always been. He didn’t know what it was about you that made his daughter talk about you all the time. Or why she wanted to spend a birthday with you. But how could he deny her? And so, the text was sent.

And now, as Namjoon puts away the dishes while you sit on his couch, he realizes he hadn’t thought of her today. Not as much as the years before. Dinner had been so... nice. It felt nice to have someone else around. Namjoon loves Dasom, but he hadn’t realized how distant he had gotten from everything that had once seemed to be the centre of his life.

Namjoon closes the dishwasher, exiting the kitchen and making his way to the living room. He places the two glasses on the table before pouring the dark red liquid.

“I hope you like Merlot.”

“Oh, please. Anything’s fine.”

You take the wine glass, sending him a thank you before taking a drink. “So,” you lean back, “remind me how to play this again.”

“Ms.____ I told you. You have to take a block without knocking the tower over,” Dasom shows you by pushing a middle wooden block out, “then you have to place it on top, like this.'' She places the same block on top of the tower.

“Ah, right! I just need to make sure if I want to win.”

“You can’t! I’m the best!”

“Oh really? And what about you?” you turn, brow raised and eyes playful.

“Pshh,” he scoffs, leaning forward. “Who do you think she takes after?”

He doesn’t think he’s ever lost a game so quickly.

Namjoon watches as you close Dasom’s door quietly from the hallway before you make your way back to the family room. “She’s out like a light. I guess all that tower building got to her.”

Namjoon snorts. He feels oddly disappointed as he watches you gather your things to go. Was it weird that he wanted you to stay? “Do you need me to get you a ride? I can call Jin to drive you home.”

“No, it’s fine! Really! I already ordered an Uber anyway.” You grab your coat near the door. Before Namjoon can unlock the door, you touch his shoulder. “Listen, thank you for inviting me today. I know you probably wanted to spend this day together instead, but I... “ you inhale, because you aren’t sure of what you want to actually say “thank you.”

Would it be weird to say how much better you made today? Probably. “You don’t… have to thank me. I think I should be the one doing the thanking. I really wanted this day to be special for Dasom and you… you definitely helped. So, thank you.”

The door opens, and the light of the hallway fills his dim flat. “Guess we’re even then.” you smile before turning, making your way to the elevator. Namjoon shuts the door once the sight of you is gone, but the smile on his face remains

“Guess we are.” he whispers wistfully

Perhaps stopping at a flower vendor when you’re already running late was a bad idea, but Namjoon wasn’t thinking about time. He had seen the bouquet of flowers and imagined the huge smile that would stretch across Dasom’s face, and that was all he needed to swerve into the left lane.

Now, though, as he anxiously watches the cars in front of him move a foot forward after thirty minutes, he’s sure he should have just left the fucking flowers alone.

Namjoon doesn’t know how long he’s been shifting his eyes from the traffic to the watch ticking around his wrist, but by a miracle, the cars start moving. Slowly, then he’s speeding down the highway, praying to the skies above he’ll make it in time. Even if he arrives in the midst of the dance, he can’t miss this recital. He won’t.

He sighs in relief when he sees the familiar glass building, though it’s cut short when he sees the parking lot. No available place in sight. Fuck. Namjoon is sure he looks insane right now, swerving around the parking lot in search for an empty spot, or really just any fucking spot that looks like it could fit his monster of a car.

Then the clouds seem to open up, and right near the entrance is a vacant spot. Namjoon swears his mouth almost waters at the sight. Quickly speeding around the lot, he parks, but not before flipping off the angry parent who tries to beat him to it. Namjoon exits his car, quickly grabbing his coat and the large bouquets of flowers from the backseat. He runs to the entrance, practically throwing the shriveled paper at the ticket clerk.

Namjoon slows as he nears the theatre doors, taking a deep breath before calmly opening it. He had completely forgotten to book seats in advance, so he’s not surprised to see the velvet seats filled to the brim. When he looks to the stage, he’s relieved to see that there’s still time until Dasom comes on.

Now, Namjoon knows he’s not the most… balanced person. It’s common knowledge that he trips over his feet and knocks things over sometimes. (Oh, but definitely more than the average person.) Now, if you were to ask Namjoon if he pays attention to his surroundings, he'd say yes.

But if you were to ask Namjoon what he tripped over, he wouldn’t know. It doesn’t matter, because now there’s a furious mother with a horrendous bob cut glaring at him, and what he thinks to be a broken camcorder on the floor. The only thing he can manage is an awkward smile and an even more awkward apology. Namjoon offers to give her the cost for repairs, hell, even offers to buy her a new one. The woman snatches the bills from his hands but she doesn’t go back to minding her business like he thought she would. No, instead she starts to argue with him, in the middle of her child’s recital, no less!

Namjoon can’t do anything but stare at her as she blabbers on about how horrible he is for throwing her camcorder on the floor. (Not like it had much life left, that thing looked like it was from 2007.) She’s damn near spitting on his face, and causing other parents to turn around and glare at them. As if it was his fault. Who knew she had such an attachment to the damn thing!

A hand lands on his shoulder, and for a second he’s sure it’s security ready to escort him out of the building. But when he turns, he’s surprised to see it’s you. Like an angel had ascended from the clouds to save Namjoon from the wrath of a ballet mom. And just like that, you’re leading him away, taking a seat two rows before the stage. Namjoon’s eyes widen at the sight of the empty seat beside you.

It’s that feeling again, and Namjoon’s palms start to get sweaty as he takes a seat. “Jesus, thank you for that,” he whispers, relishing your quiet laughter that follows.

“Of course. She was probably a blink away from going full-blown Karen on you.” you tease.

“Oh, and that wasn’t?”

“Oh, Joon, you haven’t seen how angry ballet moms can get.” you both laugh, huddled together as if you’re sharing a special secret. It seems so natural. As if this is where he’s supposed to be. So much that Namjoon almost doesn’t catch the nickname, but how could he miss it when you say it just like she used to?

The stage lights darken, and Namjoon is grateful for the excuse to look elsewhere. He’s sure if he would have stared at you for just a bit longer, he would have done something completely and utterly stupid. “This is her.” you whisper, and Namjoon buries the thought away.

A blue hue shines across the stage before the soft melody begins to play, filling the room with the sounds of strings and keys. One by one, tiny swans begin to come into view, prancing around the stage. Namjoon catches sight of Dasom, looking adorable in her white tutu and he can’t help the proud smile that makes its way onto his face. He watches with adoration as she does her pirouettes, and maybe there’s some water overflowing in his eyes as they finish their dance, bowing towards the audience.

You both stand, clapping and cheering the loudest, uncaring of the stares from the snobby rich parents because you’re both too damn proud of Dasom to care. For a moment, Namjoon pretends that it’s different, simpler. That it’s not only his child on stage but yours. Ours. He thinks he likes the sound of that too much.

Once the show ends, you lead Namjoon backstage where the buzz of dozens of girls talking fills the air. You tell him that you need to check in on the other kids and disappear through a hallway. He spots Dasom quickly, or rather, she spots him.

“Daddy! You came!”

Namjoon lifts Dasom with his free arm, twirling her around before placing a big kiss on her forehead. Her giggles fill him with delight, and he doesn’t care that his cheeks hurt from how hard he’s been smiling. “Of course I came, angel. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

He places her on the ground before he grabs the bouquet of sunflowers from his other arm. The sight of her favourite flower makes Dasom jump with joy. She takes the flowers, and Namjoon silently coos at how much smaller they make her look. Then she spots the other bouquet of flowers in his arm. She scrunches her brows together, about to ask who those are for before her eyes catch something behind Namjoon.

“Ms. ____!”

“Dasom!”

Dasom jumps into your arms, and you laugh at her enthusiasm. “You did so well! I’m so proud of that pirouette!” You twirl her around once her feet hit the ground, smiling as you watch her stumble slightly. Namjoon can’t help but smile too.

“Look what daddy got me, Ms. ____! Look!” Dasom lifts the flowers up, almost shoving them into your face.

“Wow, these are very beautiful, Dasom!”

“Look! He got you some too!” she giggles, and you look at her confusedly then at Namjoon. He sighs, looking pointedly at Dasom despite the cherry hue making its way across his cheeks. She giggles once again before running to her friends. “Dasom!” but it's futile.

If it weren’t for the consistent chatter, Namjoon’s sure there would be an agonizing silence to fill the space between you. You walk closer to him, looking down at your shoes bashfully. “Ah, these-” he takes the bouquet from his arm, “these are for you.”

You looked surprised to say the least. Eyes wide and glassy, your mouth falling ajar. “Wow, uh, really?” you ask, glancing up from the bouquet. He nods shyly.

Listen, he had only planned to buy Dasom her favourite flowers. But then he caught sight of these beautiful yellow roses, tips painted a light amber orange. Somehow they reminded him of you. And the way you had left him with his heart feeling lighter for the first time in years the other night. Maybe it was a way of saying thank you. He’ll admit, he didn’t think it all the way through, but the way you’re smiling at him right now makes him think it wouldn’t have mattered anyway.

There’s a moment where it seems to just be you and him, despite the tons of parents and children running around. He’s only focused on you, and the way your eyes drop to his lips, if only for a millisecond. Namjoon wants to say it. God, he wants to say it so badly. “Listen I… I’ve been meaning to ask you,” his voice fades away as his eyes catch yours. Hopeful. Beautiful. Glimmering.

Just like hers.

“Do you, uh, need a ride home?”

And the bubble bursts.

You step away, looking at anything but him and he hates it. He despises it. He wants you to look at him like that again. He wants nothing more than to pull you back and kiss you senselessly, like his mind is screaming for him to do. But he can’t. He can’t do it for some fucking reason and he almost wants to cry in frustration because why can’t this just be easier? Why is it so hard to move on? You don’t deserve this. You deserve so much better than what he can offer you. And that thought keeps him still.

“Uh, sure.”

Quiet.

Say something, idiot! Tell her what you’ve been dying to say! Just fucking say it!

Namjoon hates himself for the next words that tumble out of his mouth.

“Let’s find Dasom.”

The drive to your house is just like it was before, except this time there’s no chatter to fill the emptiness. Dasom is sound asleep in the backseat. You've never seemed more distant than now, facing the window, body pressed against the door. You had almost begged to go in the back with Dasom, and Namjoon doesn’t know why he didn’t just let you.

How did it come to this? This wasn’t what he wanted. This night wasn’t supposed to go like this. Everything should have gone differently.

He doesn’t know how he’ll ever fix this. If things will go back to normal. If he completely ruined it. But he’s too afraid to ask. Too afraid to know.

Namjoon has never hated the quiet more.

The sight of your apartment complex fills him with dread. All he can think about is all he wants to say, all he should have said, all he wants to take back. God, Namjoon wishes he could take it back. If only there was a way to turn back the time. Why had he been so afraid to make a move? Why did it hurt so much? But he knows going back wouldn’t help. Not when he doesn’t know if he would have done it differently.

His car comes to a stop, and the doors unlock. He faintly catches the small thank you before the passenger door slams shut. Namjoon watches as you make your way up the pathway, feet moving briskly and it feels like he’s watching you walk away from him.

You’re shuffling through your bag, looking for your key. And fuck, is he really just going to this go? Is he that stubborn that he can’t see past himself? He can’t. He can’t let you go. Not like this.

Well do something, dumbass!

The door of his car is thrown open, and before he can overthink it-

“____!”

You still. You turn.

Namjoon shuts the door. He walks up the steps and stops a few feet away from you, but he feels like he’s miles away. You look up at him, questioning. Your eyes aren’t the same ones. Not like you looked at him before. Yet they’re still warm. Inviting. Namjoon is tongue-tied, and all those words he wanted to say are gone now.

“Are we… good?”

“Why wouldn’t we be?”

“I just…” he scratches the back of his neck. “That moment back at the recital. I… I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” you say, simply. When he looks at you, he can’t tell what you’re feeling. You’ve blocked him off. “Namjoon, really. It’s fine.”

But is it really? He wants to ask. But he doesn’t. It’s quiet again, this time the sound of the wind rustling the browning leaves above filling the space. Still.

“I… god, I don��t know why this is so hard. Ever since, you know,” you don’t. “I… I didn’t think I'd ever get an opportunity to…” he inhales, unsure of what he wants to say first.

“I just feel like I ruined it so carelessly.”

You don’t say anything for a few moments. You only stare at him, really stare at him. Like you can see through his mirage, through the walls he’s spent so long building up. You’re taking it all, but there’s nothing he can take back from you.

“You didn’t.” you whisper it so quietly, Namjoon would have thought his mind had taken pity on him. But a smile slips onto your face. Unlike the other ones. It doesn’t fill him with joy. It doesn’t give him butterflies. This one hurts.

And he knows you’re telling the truth.

“This… It might take a while.”

The wind picks up. The leaves rustle. The cold, biting.

“That’s ok. I’ll wait as long as you need me to.”

Your lips are bittersweet on his tongue.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY AGAIN TO KARLA !! ILYYYY <3

#bangtanhq #btsbookclub #ficswithluv #btsguild #btsgoldnet #cypherwritersnet #namjoon x reader #namjoon angst #kim namjoon x reader #kim namjoon x you #bts x reader #namjoon fanfic

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plush-rabbit · 4 years

Text

Let’s Split A Taxi

Warning: Non-Con

Word Count: 4.2K

A/N: Rappa is a big boi who wants love

You’ve known Kendo for ages- always the big brother that you never had. Someone who is so sweet to you, always protective and careful of his strength around you and even if he was a brash child, always getting found in fights- always the victorious one- he never once made you feel unsafe, never once threatened you. He held you in his strong arms, face buried into your shoulder and hugging you tightly, telling you that he would be careful next time- always a promise that he would never get hurt and somehow he took it as a challenge from you, to fight whoever gave you dirty look and always making sure he come out unscathed, not a single strand misplaced and only slightly out of breath. He only ever hurt himself when you cupped his cheek once, tutting at him that he had a scrape and you kissed it to make him feel better; his face flushed and freezing under your touch and you merely giggled, telling him to be careful. He was your big brother and he couldn’t get hurt, not when he still had to protect you. You had him a ribbon tied in your hair, it’s a dark blue color, rich and shimmering and you wrap it around his wrist. It’s a promise ribbon that he’ll be safe, you explain and you peck at his wrist and he’s over the moon.

Kendo Rappa has known you since you wore pigtails in your hair and held hands to cross the street, always begging for him to push you on the wings and giggling as he would send you soaring through the air, your hair ties loosening and falling off in the process. You were something so small and innocent, so pure and soft compared to his brutish self. He had to protect you and would do so. As you both grew, you both became different people, no longer needing to hold hands as you crossed the street and he would miss the warmth, the way you felt in his hand- as if you were always meant to fit there. The ribbon stayed hidden in his room, in a secret box, your lingering kiss still against it as a testament for your love to him. Swinging turned into trips to the convenience store to buy snacks- Kendo often stealing alcohol and giving you a cheeky grin. You always denied the beverage and he never pressured you- never wanted to force you to do something you were uncomfortable with- everything that you did, you did it with your consent. He wouldn’t force himself on you. And he wouldn’t allow anyone to force themselves on you either.

He would beat anyone if they grew too close to you, boys whose eyes wandered, riding the train together and getting off stops later, giving you a halfhearted excuse, as he followed the man who took pictures up your skirt. He’d protect you. You could never protect yourself, you were too delicate to do any of the sort. He never looked at the pictures either, stomping the phone because he hadn’t wanted to invade your privacy- he wanted to wait for the moment that you let him see you, that you would lie on his bed and interlock your hands in his hair and beg for him to be gentle. That thought was really all it took for him to be content- to always reach his high as he stuttered your name.

But then it wasn’t enough as you two grew older. He went into cage fighting, drool and blood seeped into the floor and his opponents a mess underneath him and you went to school, wearing tight clothing and a sweet smelling perfume.

He’d complain that you two weren’t as close as you once were- you had been studying more and more and wouldn’t make time for your best friend. He’s pout and let his hair fall to his eyes, and flop on your bed. You, of course, would shake it off and counter that he spent time fighting and it was always accompanied by a pout. He’d feel happy that you still cared about where he fought or not, rising on the bed and taking your hands in his and when did his hands get so rough and yours so soft? When was the last time you two held hands? Not since you were kids.

Kendo Rappa might be a brute, bloodthirsty and ready to swing his arm back but he’s also noble and desperate for you love, his words rolling out of his mouth eloquently and somehow he always ends up spending the night, each on one side of the bed with no barriers because he’s your big brother- he’s nii-san- he’s not going to make things weird even if you two are older.

He spends the night with you curled towards him, back pressed against his chest and his hips rutting into your backside, erection straining against his sweatpants, hands groping at your breasts, rough fingertips toying your nipples through the fabric and he’s grateful that you’ve always been a deep sleeper, grateful as he licks at your neck and watches your chest bounce when he flips you onto your back, and rubs at your clothed cunt, cock in fist as he muffles his moans. He always hesitates as he cums, shaking as he rises above you and pulls your shirt up, exposing your belly while his seme paints in white, hastily cleaning it up before you wake.

You agreed to sleep next to him, allowed yourself to sleep next to the man who loves you, who goes through your under drawer when you’re not home, and let him rub himself over your things like a dog humping the next bitch in sight. But you aren’t a bitch- you aren’t a common slut- you’re his love- his true love, the soulmate that he knows he belongs with but yet you haven’t realized yet. And when you wake up, buried in his chest with your slick gone cold and clinging to your entrance, you believe his words that you must have rolled over to him. But that still doesn’t explain why your breasts are sore, nipples rubbed raw and painful against the cushion of your bra. But your honorary big brother isn’t going to do that to you- he loves you but never anything romantic and least of all sexual.

Kendo Rappa loves you. You just haven’t realized your own feelings. You haven’t figured out yet that you love him. And that’s fine because subconsciously you do. You rest next to him, you let him slip his thickness between your thighs when you sleep, you gave him a key to your house and let him enter when you aren’t home- you welcomed him to do it even! Told him, your voice giggly and bubbly as you handed him the key and told him to make himself at home. And he did. He walks straight to your room and sprays the perfume he loves so much and jerks off to dirty articles of your clothing. You wouldn’t let him do that if you love him. He can understand that it’s dirty, that what he’s doing is filthy but he loves you so much and for so long and he’s gotten nothing but kisses on the cheek and simple hand holding.

He’s a patient man but even then it runs thin as years go by.

He’s going to confess to you. He’s going to tell you how he feels, no doubt behind it, no friendly “I love you too Kendo” said to him in response, it’s going to be met with a kiss and his hands on you and yours on his.

You two are going to go out for drinks and he’s going to look his best. He’d invite you for drinks at his place or even bring some over to yours but then you’d just think of it as a hangout- you wouldn’t think of it as a date. You’d smile softly at him and call him the best as you two watched old movies and you eventually slipped into a deep sleep where he can jerk off next you, where he can grab at your limp hand and touch his own cock with it, melting at the size difference, you sleep as he kisses your thighs and rests before your heat and he’s so desperate to see what you have hidden beneath, so desperate to taste and feel, but he can watch the slow breathing of your chest in the meantime. He’s grateful that you can’t hold your liquor. Grateful that you trust him so much to drink next to him.

He dresses his best- the best that he can at least. Jeans that aren’t ripped, boots that don’t have dried blood on them, a shirt that hugs his body and shows his muscles, and his soft, long hair that’s tied into a bun, bangs still falling to his face and covering his eyes like a mask. He waits patiently at the bar, bouncing his leg and waiting for you to make your appearance, a half empty bottle in front of him- a quick drink from liquid courage. He doesn’t think he’s ever been this nervous. He’s confessed to you before, told you as young as the age of eight that he loved you, blushing and thinking he might die until he hears you say it back- but it isn’t the same- it’s gone in that horrendous cycle over and over again, each time feeling his heart break. But he should have realized it sooner. Should have known you were the dense type, oblivious to feelings when it came to you. All you needed was the right set up, the perfect push that this friendship wasn’t just a friendship- it was a relationship that you’ll love because you already love him but it’s just mistaken as platonic.

He leans in his chair, hand wrapped loosely around the bottle, drops of water collecting in his palm, the inter hand stuffed in his pocket, toying with the now faded ribbon that you had given him all those years ago. When he hears the server say welcome and he looks up, eyes wide and full of hope and there you are- stunning as always. Hair done nicely, wedges on and body wrapped in a little black dress, hugging at your curves. You, as always, take his breath away. He waves his hand in the air and you perk up, walking swiftly towards him and he rises immediately, pulling out your chair. You give a puzzled grin and sit down, thanking him. He’s sure he has a dopey grin on him because when he sits back down you giggle.

“What happened to you Kendo? You look all happy,” you cross your legs under the table grab at a menu left on the table.

“Can’t I be happy spending time with my favorite person in the world?” He’s cheery around you- softer than usual, always wanting to compliment you and smile at you.

You shrug and call a waiter over, raising your hand and sitting straighter when noticed. A young man comes around, side swept brown hair and eyes to match. Kendo doesn't really care what’s being discussed, it’s an order of a drink, what is he going to miss. All he does is focus on how cute you look, smiling politely and handing the menu off to the wiater.

“Are you hungry?” Kendo asks, scooting closer to the table. “I can order us something to eat if-”

“Nah, I’m okay Kendo.” Your fingers drum on the table. “I had a quick meal before heading over. You know me, I can’t hold my alcohol and I heard that putting something in your stomach helps you last a bit longer.”

“Oh.” His shoulders deflate and he rubs the back of his head.

“If you’re hungry, you can get something, I’ll help peck at it if you’d like,” you offer.

He shakes his head. “No, it’s fine. I ate too-” a lie, he wanted to share a meal with you- something he’s seen lovers do before- “I only asked because I didn’t want you to go hungry around me.”

You smile at him and it's gentle. “Aw Ken, that’s sweet.” Your arm extends and you reach over to hold his hand. “Always looking out for me.”

“I have to,” he replies quickly. “I’ll always look out for you.” He nudges your leg playfully under the table.

You give him a cheeky smile and nudge his leg back. “Yeah, you always have, haven’t you?” You have a wistful tone to you. “Why don’t you tell me about your day, huh? It’s been a while since we talked. How’s the whole fighting going? Still being careful?”

He nods. “Of course! You know me-” he pauses and your drink is placed in front of you. You thank the waiter and he continues to talk. “I’ll always be careful. We promised each other I would be.”

You take a sip of your drink and laugh. “Oh my god, you still remember that promise? Oh man, we were so young,” you shake your head, reminiscing the memories. “And you’re still picking fights,” you give him a sharp grin and he smiles. You’re flirting with him. That’s all that he needed as a boost.

“And winning them,” he adds.

“You were always a good fighter. Even without your quirk.”

He can’t hold it in anymore. He can’t wait another second- he can’t wait for the perfect moment, he has to make the perfect moment and with you taking a sip of alcohol, a red tint already appearing on your face, the glow of the lights above illuminating you, he knows that whatever perfect moment he’s supposed to wait for is now. He puts his hand over his jean pocket, the silky ribbon barely making an impression and he takes a drink of his beer.

“I love you,” he tells you, voice honest and tight, eyes peering through his hair and into yours, heart pounding in his chest and trying so desperately to calm himself as he waits for your answer.

“I love you too Ken,” you reply, cheerfully, taking another sip of your drink, ready to move on from the conversation.

“No.” His voice is stern and you look up at him. “I-” he clears his throat- “I love you. As in I want us to be more than friends.”

Your shoulders raise an inch and you blink at him, lips parted. “Oh.”

“I know, I know,” his hands appear and they rest on the table, palms facing the ceiling, waiting for you to slip your hands in his. “Not exactly the most romantic place to confess but I’ve loved you since we were kids and I thought that the location of me confessing didn’t really matter since it’s all about love and shit.”

You swallow and put your glass down, the amber liquid suddenly burning as it goes down your throat. “You,” you hesitate, “love me? Like love, love?” He nods and has this wide grin on him. “Wow, um- since we were kids?” You ask incredulously.

“You know, at this point, you’re supposed to say it back.” His tone is teasing and his fingers curl inwards.

You uncross your legs and stare at the lipstick stained rim of the glass. “Kendo?” Your voice comes out scared and you cough weakly into the crook of your elbow. You can’t quite meet his eyes and instead stare at his hair. “I- I’m sorry,” you watch as he deflates in front of you and it hurts you but you don’t want to lead him on, “I don’t feel the same way. I- You’re like a big brother to me Kendo- we've been friends since we were like six,” you laugh nervously but it dies quick at his silent demeanor. “Kendo, I’m-” you reach your hands over to hold his own but even with the separation you can feel his warmth, and you flinch away.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, his loud demeanor suddenly gone.

“No, Kendo, it isn’t your fault. It’s just-” you sigh and let your head fall, “I think we should just go home.” Your hands push themselves against the edge of the table. “Come on, we can split a taxi.”

“No, no,” he says, shaking his head, smile returning albeit a bit forced. “I invited you to get some drinks- I made this weird, come on- we’re still friends, aren’t we?”

A genuine smile makes it way on your face, curving your lips upwards and making you appear softer than before. “Of course we are,” you tell him, slipping your hand into his and giving him a reassuring squeeze. “We’ll always be friends.” You slip your hand out his just as his was about to grasp onto yours.

“Then come on, let’s drink and then we can split that taxi,” he gives you a lopsided smile, immediately hidden by a bottle and you return it.

The night goes on spent in a bar until the numbers start to dwindle. He asks for the waiter to remove your glasses each time you finish one, some of them gone when they’re half empty, but he keeps buying you new ones, encouraging you to try a new fruity blend that has such a pretty color, your favorite color and won’t it look nice on your social media page- come on, you have to drink it since he bought it for you. He takes baby sips from his drink, watching as your movement grow heavier, your speech slurring and your eyes grow heavy. He only smiles at you, pushing another glass towards you, telling you it’ll wake you right up and of course, you listen, drinking it greedily, flinching at the bitter taste and he orders you something sweeter.

“I love you,” he says again, tilting his head and a soft smile appearing on his face, making his eyes narrow in the process and glint with deviance.

You giggle and lean forward. “I-” you giggle, “love you too Kendo,” your words slur and lean back against your seat, your legs parting. “I love you so much,” you smack your lips and take another sip of your drink.

“Are you tired?” You nod, eyes starting to close as if you barely realized that you were tired. “Let’s split a taxi, yeah? We can go back to your place and slip into bed.”

You nod lazily and when you rise you stumble, but he;s right there to catch you, his arms hooking underneath your legs and you’re pressed against his chest, eyes heavy and breath stained with amber.

Your bedsheets are pink, pillowcases white and a brown teddy bear on it that’s been toppled over with his movements. Your room glows and the bed creaks as he moves. You’re on your back, face turned and eyes closed, a puddle of drool spilling out of your mouth and creating a dark stain.

Your dress was taken off as soon as he entered your home, clumped near the entrance and the rest of your clothing thrown around your room. You were still as he placed you on your bed, chest rising as you slept peacefully and he stood above you and wasted no time. His own clothes promptly discarded and tossed to the side, the edge of your ribbon peeking out of his pockets, and he kissed you as he entered you- a declaration of his love- sealing the deal with a kiss and you tasted of fruit and bitter all at once.

He made sure that you were prepped, whispering to you how he wouldn’t hurt you, that the first time as a couple was going to be done right- no pain and all pleasure. He pressed his fingers inside, massaged at your walls, kissed at your neck and murmured about how hot you were. He’s going to take care of you- protect you forever and ever.

He moves inside of you, feeling your body tighten and drip around him, your mouth parted open and breasts moving softly. He peppers you in kisses, drowns you in love bites, worships you as he hooks an arm under your leg and curses as he goes deeper in you.

“I love you,” he repeats, chanting it breathlessly, beads of sweat dripping down his forehead. He pants and sighs. Your sex is much better than anything else he’s ever fucked of yours. Better than your underwear, better than our thighs, better than your hand wrapped around him and he presses himself deep, clenching his legs and suckling on your neck. He cries as he ejaculates inside of you, his semen filling you and making you oh so wet. “Thank you for loving me back,” he sighs and he continues to move.

He doesn't know how long he’s there, time moving slow and too quick all once until you start to shift and he stills for a moment.

“Are you okay?” He whispers. “Do you feel sick? Do you want me to get you water?”

He watches you as you groan, kicking your legs in a desperate, tired kick, your brows furrowed and eyes opening only to squint back shut at the presence of light.

“Ken-” you yawn and your head lolls to the side. “Kendo, where-”

“You’re place baby,” he presses a kiss to your temple and continues his movements slowly, not wanting to upset your belly. “You had a bit too much drink,” he answers honestly.

“My place,” you mumble.

“We shared a taxi,” he tells you, pressing a kiss on the corner of your lips.

“Shared,” you repeat. But then your lips pout. “No… No, we split a taxi.”

“Split baby,” he reaffirms, hissing as he moves inside of you.

“Ba,” you whisper, letting the word fade. “No,” you shake your head and you open your eyes despite the discomfort. “What’s going on?” You try to peer down and your eyes widen, heartbeat increasing gradually. “Kendo, what are you doing?”

“Shush,” he croaks out, “you humped me in the ride home, practically flipping your dress in front of the taxi driver,” he lies through his teeth, letting it roll off as if it were the truth. “You wanted this. You wanted my love.”

You shake your head and try to push him off of you, your hands weak against him and you end cupping his chest in your hands. “That’s- No, Kendo, I didn’t,” your mind is still foggy and you want to sleep. “I- You’re a friend- a big brother- Kendo,” you shake your head and your mouth tastes of acid. “Kendo,” you whine, tears slipping down your face, your chest heaving, bottom lip wobbling. “Stop,” you beg.

“It’s okay,” he kisses away your tears, lips salty and uncomfortable as they press against your face. “It’ll feel good for you too, I promise.”

“It doesn’t,” you sob as your childhood friend assaults you, his weight and strength too much for you and you’re suffocating under him.

“It will.”

A course hand runs down your body, sliding between skin and you flinch as he grazes your clit. You whine under him, and he ignores your pleas. He moves at a gentle pce, not wanting to harm you or cause you sickness, his fingers massaging at your pearl and tongue running flat against your neck. Your chest jumps and voice croaks, kisses placed generously over your collarbone and leading to your nipple, nursing on a breast, mouth wrapping around you whole and he nips at your nipple, soothing it over with a kiss when you sob harder.

He’s close again, feeling himself pump inside of you faster, your gummy walls around him slick with yours and his arousal and he can feel your clit twitching under his finger, pulsing with desire. He groans above you, moaning your name, aching as he reaches his high, cursing under his breath, loving you in the next sentence, coating you in spittle, wiping away tears and he pinches the bundle of nerves between his fingers, eager to finish with you, wanting to feel how you would tighten around him, how your walls would spasm and you’d moan against him.

All it takes is a simple kiss, his tongue pushing past your closed lips and hooking your legs over his arms and he can feel you twitch, your body going rigid for a moment while your velvety walls convulse around him, aching to be filled again, milking him and when he lets his seed fill you, he hears you cry, your arms falling limply at your sides and he keeps the kiss, your name muted between lips.

He pulls away, wincing as he removes himself and he cups your face in his hand, thumb brushing away a stray tear and he has this gentle smile that a monster should never have- that someone as bloodthirsty and horrible should never let a smile grace his face and yet- there it is, smiling down at you.

“I’m going to love and protect you.” There’s a wild glint in his eye and your reflection peers back at you. His tone is anything but sweet, anything but promising and the sick feeling in your stomach only grows stronger when he kisses against your slack lips. “And you’ll love me back.”

#kendo rappa x reader #rappa kendo x reader #the rapper x reader #rappa x reader #rappa kendou #i did this in a day #so sorry about mistakes lol #hope you like it!!#ive been listening to a lot of metal lately and i wanna scream #ahhh

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little-bee-draws · 3 years

Photo

“Any elf who’s lived among humans knows the grief of outliving those you care for, but that doesn’t mean you can’t carry them with you…”

(tap/ click for better quality)

ID: A 5 panel comic arranged with the large main panel above four small square panels of equal size, bordered in white.

Panel 1: A large rectangular panel with a textured blue background. On the right side a brown skinned elf is shown in profile facing left, eyes downcast. They wear a simple yellow shirt and have long reddish purple hair that is braided back into two low ponytails, one of which is mostly hidden behind their head. Four ribbons, white, red, blue, and green are woven into the braid and fall freely with the loose hair. A yellow band secures the ponytails. Another red ribbon flutters out from behind their head. A simple yellow flower is painted on temple, one of the petals outlining their eye. On the left side of the image a white text bubble contains the words, “I keep my ghosts close..”

Panel 2: A red monochrome drawing of a bearded human man in profile facing to the right.

Panel 3: A yellow monochrome drawing of an old woman facing forward with her head wrapped in a scarf.

Panel 4: A blue monochrome drawing of a little girl with dark bangs and pigtails. She is smiling and facing slightly to the left.

Panel 5: A green monochrome drawing of a woman turned slightly to the left Her long hair is also blowing to the left and partially obscures her face.

end ID/

#ask me about their backstory!#character art #dnd art #character comic #summer eladrin #dnd elf #digital art #digital painting #my art #Cypress

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thewritingstar · 4 years

Text

Enchanted For a Moment (revamped)

Pairings: Reds, Blues, Greens

Fandoms: The Powerpuff Girls

Rating: T (might change with chapters)

Word count: 7755

Summary: A royal au that showcases three different types of relationships. As Blossom, Bubbles and Buttercup work for Princess Eliza Morbucks, they have a secret they want to keep but when a trial of suitors comes for the princess, everyone is going to discover something they never intended too.

Note: This is a rewrite of my story "Enchanted for a Moment". Its much longer and in depth and I hope you all enjoy. Huge thank you to my wonderful and stunning beta, Miss Cilla @creativecilla for helping me bring this to life. Another thank you to my other betas Aves @avesthetea and Lisa @lisathefan for coming along on the journey.

Chapter 1

---

The sun rose gently on the horizon as a new day started in Townsville. It was a simple kingdom filled with simple people who lived simple lives. The town was small yet full of life. There was the bakery that filled the air with an aroma of vanilla and sugar. The library and school house where little minds grew big. Not to mention the busy harbor that had an excellent array of fish, meats, and vegetables.

Everything and everyone within the kingdom had their place. They had a job and a status to uphold and the princess was no exception.

The daughter of King Morbucks, Princess Eliza, was the fairest lady in all the land. At least, that is what they said in order to keep her peace. In all honesty, Eliza, who demanded to be referred solely as Princess, was a menace.

She was anything but a graceful girl. Demands came from her mouth the second she was born and no one had ever told her no. She could manipulate anyone with a blink of an eye or a bribe. She wasn’t one for genuine smiles or doing charitable work, no. She cared about her crown more than anything else in the kingdom, why bother with anything else?

Yes, Townsville was a peaceful kingdom for the most part, yet hidden within the walls of the castle was a secret that few had known.

♛♛♛

“Princess. Please hold still!” Bubbles winced as she tried to measure Princess for a new gown. The blonde stepped back, avoiding the elbow coming towards her face and blew out her bangs. “Your majesty.” She groaned but Princess was in the mirror staring at herself as if she was the most beautiful creature on the planet.

“Quit your whining, maid.” She spat at Bubbles, who only tightened her lip and grabbed the basket full of fabrics and sewing needles.

“I’ll return tomorrow then.” She said defeatley as she saw the sun setting through the glass windows. Another few hours wasted and she had gotten practically nothing done.

“Whatever.” Princess said without taking her eyes off her mirror.

Bubbles finished packing, feeling her own temper rise out of anger and irritation. She shoved her hand into the basket to hide the small blue glow coming from her palm and quickly walked towards the door.

“Excuse you.” The princess snapped and gave her a scowl.

Bubbles’ shoulders tightened and she pressed her hand further into her basket. She sighed before giving a small bow towards her. “Until tomorrow.” She bit her lip. “Your majesty.”

Bubbles closed the door to the room and roamed down the private wing that belonged to the maids and servant quarters.

She made a right at one of the hallways towards her own room, the one she shared with her two sisters, Blossom and Buttercup Utonium. Ever since she was a little girl, Bubbles dreamed of the life of royalty.

Her father would read her stories of princes kissing their princess in an act of true love. They would live happily ever after in a castle just as grand as this one and all was well. How she dreamed it would be like that.

However, it was far from it. The only reason her sisters lived within the palace walls was due to something she would rather forget.

She was fifteen when it had happened. Her eldest sister, Blossom, came through the door, a soft look on her face that she had never worn before. Tears lay on her water line as she hugged Bubbles to her chest telling her of their fathers passing. Buttercup returned from the docks as the news swarmed the town and the three of them stood before their father's grave dressed in the ink black fabric as their sobs rang like the church bells.

Bubbles could remember the way Blossom stood. Her shoulders pulled tight as her fists clenched together and she tried to be strong, she hardly smiled after that. The next thing she knew, they were being set up in the castle. A private room that the three would share and all they had to do was work there.

Buttercup worked as a private guard and occasionally helped with supply income from the docks. Bubbles’ ability to make a dress out of pure scraps lead her towards the seamstress route. As for Blossom, she was appointed as Princess’s tutor and main maid. Bubbles never knew how she had managed to replace the woman with that role as Blossom would constantly bicker with the princess, yet when she asked, her question was brushed aside.

Bubbles made her way into the servants wing. It wasn't as luscious as the rest of the castle but still held some elegance to keep up with the look. She pushed the door open and placed her basket on the nearest chair in the room as she rubbed her palm making the blue glow die down.

“Blossom, she is killing me.” Bubbles complained before flopping on her bed. “I pricked my finger five times because she wouldn’t stay still!” Bubbles held her index finger that was much redder than the others.

The red head looked up from her book. She gave her little sister an innocent look, one that knew exactly how she felt as she also had to deal with the spoiled brat on the daily.

“I'm sorry. Then again, I am not surprised.” Blossom turned the next page. She was sitting on the window sill, a place Bubbles found her on the daily.

“How hard is it to stay still?! I swear, I’ve made dresses for babies that don’t squirm as much.” She blew out some air before reaching up and undoing the two pigtails wrapped in blue ribbons. Her soft blonde hair fell just past her shoulders, much shorter than her older sister. “Oh Blossom, you should have seen the way my hand glowed. Do you know how hard it was to keep a smile?” She pointed towards her cheeks. “Extremely difficult.”

“And yet, you have one of the most stunning smiles in the land.” Blossom responded as another page turned in her book.

Bubbles stared at her, slightly entranced by how peaceful she looked. Although, she didn’t miss the slight darkness under her eyes and the subtle crease in her brow. Even with the clear toll of taking care of her sisters, Bubbles thought that under the soft glow of the light, her sister was the essence of beauty.

Ever since they were little girls, Blossom had always caught the eyes of everyone around her, but never on purpose. She was the most quiet of the three, with Buttercup being brash and Bubbles’ loud personality shining through. Yet she could captivate anyone she walked past.

She had taught herself to read and then her sisters, something not many could do. Bubbles always believed she would be married first, she was the oldest afterall and there was no shortage of suitors looking for her hand.

In fact it was one of the reasons why Princess wasn’t a fan of her, among other things as well.

A sad smile came onto her lips as the blonde laid on her back and looked up at the tall ceiling. She had always loved the painted flowers displayed there. She could spend hours tracing her finger in the air among the patterns and wondering what they’d smell like if they were to bloom in the gardens, unfortunately magnolias never grew in the kingdom, but she could dream.

“Do you remember when father would read us the stories?” Bubbles said out loud. It wasn’t rare to speak of their late father, but there were times that were easier than others. Even after two years of not having him here, Bubbles missed him as if the wound were fresh.

She could hear the page turning stop and looked towards Blossom, who was now looking out the window.

“Every single one.” The red head responded, her own lips turning up into a smile that Bubbles wished she could see more.

“Would you tell me one?” Bubbles asked as she toyed with the hem of her dress.

Blossom marked her page and closed the book, setting it on the small table and walked towards her sister's bed. “You should get ready for bed and perhaps when you’re done, Buttercup will be back to join us.” She brushed a light blonde lock out of her sister's face and watched as Bubbles left to the small bathroom attached to their room.

She heard the water begin to run and returned to her seat at the window. Her eyebrows drew together as she looked up towards the sky. The moon had begun to rise as stars speckled the sky.

“Where is Buttercup?” She asked, as her younger sister was usually back by now.

♛♛ Earlier that Afternoon ♛♛

“Captain, the shipment crew spotted something along the far shoreline, hidden beyond the trees. They suspect that it’s an undocumented ship from another kingdom or worse, pirates.”

Captain Lumpkins, an older man who had seen more passing moons than most, was one of the most trusted men in the kingdom’s service. He was short and stout with a thick beard and with a loose temper like his, and his face always seemed to be a nice shade of pink.

Lumpkins faced in the direction that his crew member told him of, a squint in his eyes as he tried to look for a sign of the ship but it was blocked by the rocky formations of the cliff side. The wooden pipe that constantly hung from his lips let out a thick puff of smoke that the crew had gotten used to. He scoured his crew, looking through the few faces to pick from until he settled on the girl with the jet black hair.

He snapped his fingers before pointing towards Buttercup. “Little Lady, take the lead and go find out what all the fuss is about.” he grumbled, before turning his back, giving her no time to protest.

“Alone?” Buttercup questioned. She was more than capable of handling her own but it was better to travel in pairs, especially if the threat of pirates was around.

The Captain looked back before blowing on his pipe again. “Problem?” He grinned and showed his more than yellow teeth that were probably better to be made of wood at this point.

Her eyes narrowed and she bit her lip. She knew he was only doing this because the first time they had met, she had accidentally hit him with a door and sent him flying towards the ground, not to mention she almost broke his banjo.

“No sir.” She spat and felt a hand on her shoulder.

“Be careful.” Mitch said, before giving her a nod and following the captain.

Mitch was a simple guy. Dark brown eyes and messy brown hair, he was nothing special but was extremely skilled with a bow and arrow. They had lived in the same part of the village before she moved to the castle and he had been drafted into the captain guard by the time he was fifteen. She considered him to be one of her only friends, even if he was slightly annoying. However, he never once doubted her skills.

Buttercup sighed before stalking off, boots hitting the dock with a little more anger than she intended. She threw her hands in her pockets so the small spark of green they emitted went unnoticed by the people in the area. In all honesty, she didn’t care that she went by herself. If anything, she was as good with a sword as she was sassy, and hardly anyone tried to mess with her.

It took more than half an hour to reach the hidden beach. She didn’t mind the stroll since it gave her an excuse to not be around the annoying stare of her captain. It blew her mind that some old fat man was the captain. Some of the other crew mates had told her that he once owned a farm and even a cabin in the deeper parts of the woods. After an accident with flooding of the crops, he had been put into the guard service and moved his way to the top.

Buttercup stood on the small cliff. She could see the ship below and it took her breath away at how massive and stunning the beast was. The ship was made of dark wood that looked like squid ink against the blue sea. The masts held thick, white cloth and a smaller flag that was decorated with a skull and crossbones. It was a typical sign for pirates to have, but this one had a dark green trim.

It looked like a classic ship. She had seen many sailing on the sea when she had accompanied the navy team for a few deliveries, but what had intrigued her most was the statue on the forepeak. Most of the time, a mermaid or maiden was craved and crafted onto the front; something about the ladies of the sea or the fact that the only people on board were horny men who could barely please their wives.

Instead, this ship had something different. She slipped down from the cliff and jumped the shore. She noticed the ship was much larger than she had thought as she approached the front. She looked up at the statute. A beautiful craving of a fairy was displayed. Her face was round and looked soft with large wings curving around the ship, each wing held an intricate design.

Buttercup had never seen something so expertly crafted, and the words below it were just as fascinating.

“The Empress.” She whispered to herself. She had a keen knowledge on the many famous pirates that roamed the sea. Each of them in search for their own thing, be it treasure or the destruction of anything in their way.

A gasp left her lips as she realized that docked on this beach was one of the most viscous groups of pirates around. Legends had told that a fearless captain commanded the ship and the water around him. Wherever he went, danger and death followed. Her father once told her that if you ever became a prisoner among his deck, your life would drip out slowly and painfully and there was no mercy in his eyes. It was said that his gaze alone could strike fear even into the bravest of hearts.

She should have turned back to warn Lumpkins of what was here. She should have left with a shiver down her spine, but she had gotten closer to the ship, her fingers gliding along the wood and she felt little to no fear.

The ram to the deck was down and when she looked around, she found no crew members in sight, an odd occurrence, really. Her foot was on the ram and she had begun walking up without realizing.

If Blossom were here, she would have lost her mind. She could hear her voice now.

“Buttercup Utonium, what were you doing near a pirate ship? I don’t care that it was an order, you are only eighteen!” She said in a tone, mimicking her older sister.

The deck was spotless as she stepped onto it, still no one in sight and she wasn’t sure if she should be grateful or even more suspicious. As she walked, there was nothing around her that screamed ‘pirate’. Sure there were some cannons and weapons lying around, but nothing that had shown any sort of activity for a few weeks.

She had decided to head back, hardly anything to report, and wondered if this ship had been overthrown and abandoned. As she went to leave, her eyes went towards a door that was no doubt made for a captain. She got closer, there was a plaque inscribed with a single word, or rather name on it.

“Butch.” She muttered.

One hand went onto the door knob while the other rested on her dagger, with a swift push, the door opened. She took one step inside before her eyes widened. Leaning against a large oak desk was, no doubt in her mind, the captain of the very ship she now realized she was trespassing on.

The man looked up from where he was sharpening a knife before flashing her a wicked smile that revealed slightly sharper teeth than a normal person should have and piercing green eyes that challenged her own lighter ones.

“Well, what do we have here?” He questioned, before throwing the knife towards a wall behind him.

Buttercup froze in place, unsure of what to do. She hadn’t expected anyone to be here and now she felt like she had walked into a lion’s den. She hadn’t even noticed that he walked towards her and when she snapped back to reality, one arm had snaked around her waist and the other held her wrist above her head, keeping her dagger out of reach.

“Quiet now, are we?” He smirked. They were mere inches apart with their chest flushed together, but she noticed that his grip wasn’t rough enough to hurt.

“Not quite.” She responded. “I would be careful holding a lady hostage like this.”

He laughed. “You’re the one who came onto my ship, sweetheart.” He reminded her. “I’m just making sure my property is safe. What are you doing?”

“Scouting out dirty pirates.” She sneered before glaring at him. “And I think I found one.”

“I'm rather clean, doll. But I can get dirty, if that’s what you want.” He whispered in her ear.

There was something within her that shuttered and she couldn’t quite place what was happening, but the more she stayed in his hold, the more she didn’t mind. She fell silent and studied him. He was slightly taller than her, just enough to have an edge, and a mop of black hair that looked to have a natural spike, if that was even possible. In her lifetime she had encountered many men but she was certain that he was by the far the hottest man she had faced, and she hated it.

“Dirty pirate and a disgusting pig, what’s new?” She looked away and tried to search the room, but instead she was now being dipped by the so-called dirty pirate.

“Eyes on me only, doll.” He said and her gaze hooked to his again. She felt a sudden fire in her stomach as he brought her closer to him. “Can’t have you running to your little captain and telling on me.”

She furrowed her eyebrows. “How did you know that I worked for the royal crew?” She demanded.

“Lucky guess.” Her glare narrowed. “Your dagger is engraved with the symbol, dummy.” He said as he took her dagger and threw it across the room. “Oops.”

A feeling of fear sparked through her body as she watched her weapon slide against the wooden floor.

“So now what?” She asked. “Gonna kill me?”

He chuckled before pulling up from the dipped position but still holding her to him. “Nope. You have this spunk, I like it. I also have no need to kill you, too messy and honestly, kinda lame.”

“So what, you’re just gonna hold me?”

“Ehh, I was thinking we could get to know each other, doll.”

She gave an eye roll that he thought was amusing, before she lifted the heel of her foot and locked it with his, twisted his arm to send him flying towards the ground. He landed on his back with a thud before she placed her boot on his very tone chest and the sound of metal sliced through the air as her sword pointed towards his flushed face.

“You have a lot of nerve flirting with a royal guard member, ya’ know that? I should have broken your hand the moment you laid a finger on me.” She spat.

Butch chuckled and she felt the virbation from beneath her foot. “Can’t blame a man when you look like that.” He said, as he looked at her with no shame.

She felt her cheeks heat but she held her ground. “What are you doing here?” She questioned him.

“Can’t a man sail on his own?” He responded, but was met with a harder push of her heel.

She scoffed. “You’re no ordinary man.”

“And you’re not a fair lady, guess we all have our own issues, babe.”

She ignored what he said and initiated her search, foot still on his chest. She sent her sword piercing into the collar on his leather coat. “Stay still.” She sneered before stepping over him.

“Yes Ma’am.” He purred.

Behind his desk was a giant map of the main spread of kingdoms. Thick black lines connected some routes but she decided not to ask. Towards her right was a bed with fine silk sheets and a wardrobe. To the left, were cabinets filled with all sorts of stuff. Glass bottles and sea shells. Sea glass and parchment scattered around. It looked similar to Lumpkins’ private quarters, but with more skulls and less reek of tobacco and hay.

Placed on a random shelf was a photo of two other men. The ink was black and white yet she could tell that their eyes and hair were much different from each other. The taller one had a scowl and a cold gaze while the shorter one was smiling brightly and looked as innocent as a puppy. She said nothing about it and moved on, looking at the items and weapons that hung on the wall.

She turned to look at the man on the floor and he hadn’t moved an inch from where she left him. Instead, he began whistling as she looked through his desk and found more scrolls and random objects. There was nothing out of the ordinary that screamed ‘danger’ and perhaps he was telling the truth, just sailing because he can.

“Where’s your crew?” She asked.

“Back home. Like I said before, I just was sailing and stopped on by.”

“Where’s back home?”

“Not too sure, left there a long time ago. This is my home.” He said, gesturing his ship. “What’s your name?” He asked.

“I’m asking the questions here.”

He let out a bitter laugh. “This is my ship, so I’d watch the attitude and answer the question.” He poked at the sword.

She turned towards him and then back at the map. “Buttercup.”

“Seems a little soft for you.”

“Well, ‘Butch’ seems to fit you fine.”

Buttercup looked around more until she came back to him and grabbed the handle of the sword. With a swift pull, the sword released its grasp on the fabric and was put back into the holder hidden in her boot. She leaned down before placing her knee on his chest and placed her fingers along the leather collar and yanked hard causing his head to snap towards her.

“I’ll believe you for now, but if I catch you doing anything suspicious, I won’t hesitate to put my sword through you.” She threatened.

He raised his eyebrows. “I’ll behave, doll. Promise.” He batted his eyelashes. “You should know that offering to stab me is a real turn on, too.” He gushed, and before he could see the reaction to the statement, she was off of him and moving to grab her dagger.

He got up and dusted his coat off, not caring that there was a small tear. “I’ll cut you a deal Buttercup. If you don’t go running your mouth that a pirate ship is here, granted I’m, let's say off duty, I’ll answer any question you want. Maybe even let you take this beauty for a spin.”

“You’d let me sail your ship?” She asked with caution.

“I was talking about the bed but the ship will do.”

Her face morphed into what most would say, unamused. But she contemplated his offer. If she stayed quiet then she would gain information on other pirates and other useful things.

“Alright, you have a deal.” She held out her hand. “I’ll keep quiet for now.”

He took her hand and shook it. “Can’t wait for your return, Buttercup.”

She pushed past him and tucked the dagger into her pocket and walked out the door. Something within her wanted to go back to the castle and bury her head in her pillow and scream. Her boots hit the sand as she began to walk but before she got any further, the statute of the fairy somehow made her stop and ponder things.

The boot twisted in the sand and soon she was back at the door with her hand gripping the handle. As she opened it, Butch directed his attention to her and she noticed the bottle of amber liquid on the desk and two glasses already full as if he had expected her not to leave.

“Back so soon?” He raised a brow and offered her a filled glass.

With caution to the wind, she came towards him and sat on the desk.

“I’d like that tour now.” She said before taking the glass and downing the liquid. “Captain.”

There was a spark in his eyes as he finished his own drink and gestured to the vast room. “And here I thought you came back because you missed me.”

She laughed and accepted another pour of the drink. “You’re going to have to do a lot more than yapping and drinking to get me to miss you.” She winked, and he felt a tingle roll down his spine.

“Well, I guess I’ll have to work hard to impress you then?”

She bit her lip. “Guess so.”

They shared another drink, glasses clinking as they tilted their heads back and drank it all in one go.

“Shall we?” Butch prompted, and she responded with a firm nod and matching grin.

♛♛♛

Bubbles stepped out from the bathroom, her cotton nightgown hugging her body as she walked towards her bed and began to brush her hair. Blossom had also changed into her night time attire as the door to their room opened.

“Buttercup, there you are.” Blossom said. She looked over her sister whose uniform was slightly wrinkled and a few buttons missing. “Where have you been? You were off duty hours ago.”

The green eye girl shrugged as she made her way to the bathroom. “I was taking care of other orders, relax.” She reassured her older sister but something didn’t sit well with Blossom as the bathroom door closed.

“Well hurry up, Blossom is gonna tell a story!” Bubbles whined, as she picked up her stuffed octopus her mother had made her when she was little.

Buttercup came out of the bathroom and sat on Bubbles’ bed. “Ooh, which one?” She asked and Blossom set her books aside and came over to sit in front of the girls on a chair.

“Bubbles requested the one of the princess and-”

“You always tell that one!” Buttercup complained.

“It's cute!” Bubbles defended her beloved tale.

The middle sister pushed her shoulder lightly. “It’s boring. Choose a different one. Like the pirate king.”

“Pirates are scary!”

“Not all of them.” Buttercup whispered under her breath.

Blossom narrowed her eyes. “What was that Buttercup?”

“N-nothing, just tell the stupid princess one.” She grumbled with flushed cheeks.

Blossom only blew up her bangs and rolled her eyes. “Alright, but first I need to tell you something. Tomorrow begins the process for the Princess to meet her future husband. That means that a vast amount of suitors, from all over the land, will be here.”

A small gasp came from Bubbles. The red head shot her a glare. “Which means: no interfering. We are here to serve whether you like it or not, so don’t go poking around for some attractive man.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice.” Buttercup groaned. “I’m so thankful I’m not a maid.”

“I’m not worried about you Buttercup. But you.” She looked at her little sister. “Be good. I know you are a beautiful maiden and kind hearted but I would rather not have your head on a platter because you made Princess jealous.” Blossom frowned.

Bubbles nodded and toyed with the hem of her dress. “I understand Blossy. But what if he falls in love with me?” She pouted out her lips and gave her big puppy dog eyes. “It wouldn’t be very nice of me to deny a lovely man his heart.”

“Be good.” Blossom restated and flicked her sister’s head. “Now, listen closely.”

Buttercup and Bubbles squished together as their sister started the story.

“Once upon a time…”

♛♛♛

The morning sun came shining through the windows. Over in the mirror, Blossom was finishing getting ready and fencing her long copper hair into a bun, finishing with her red ribbon tied. She had stopped wearing her childhood bow for many years. She was approaching her twentieth birthday this year and had thought it had been a little silly. That was until her mother passed when she was eleven, around the time she had stopped.

Blossom started in the mirror at the bow, deep with a rich red color and her mother's words played in her mind.

“Everytime I see your bow, it takes me back to the first time I held you in my arms.”

The next time she had placed the bow in her hair, her mother was being buried before her.

Blossom came back to her thoughts as Bubbles exited the bathroom dressed in her blue outfit and ready for another day.

“Good morning Blossy.” Bubbles smiled brightly. Her giggles were infectious to say the least and it was almost a miracle that she hadn’t lost that laughter after so much tragedy.

“Good morning Bubbles.” Blossom offered a small smile and she could see the hope in her sister’s eyes. “Buttercup just left, she’s on duty to welcome the suitors.”

The blonde nodded before spinning around in her dress. It was a simple blue bodice with a fluffy skirt. Even though Princess could be a royal brat, she did demand that her maids and suitors looked better and not shoved into black clothing like other castles.

“I’m so excited! This means that I can start designing dresses for the gala.” Bubbles gushed and she held her cheeks as she continued mumbling about the patterns and fabrics.

“Bubbles?” Blossom called.

“Oh, maybe she’ll want something red or purple!”

“Bubbles?”

“Or maybe gold, made of silk? No, that's tacky.”

“BUBBLES!”

The blonde's eyes snapped to her sister who was tapping her foot.

“Yes?”

Blossom pointed above her. “Your bag is floating.”

Bubbles tilted her head up and surrounded in a soft blue glow was her sewing basket with the contents floating around it. She looked towards her hands which were still emitting the light before blushing embarrassingly and making a motion with her finger. The basket came back to the ground softly.

“Oops.” Bubbles whispered.

The smallest laugh came from Blossom as she came towards her and kissed the top of her head. “I know you are excited but please, remember that your magic can not be seen. Ever.” She said cautiously.

“I know Blossy, it was an accident.”

Blossom grabbed her own small bag before opening the door and letting Bubbles walk out first. “I’ll see you for supper, and remember…”

Bubbles turned on her heels. “I know. I know. No falling in love with handsome men.” She giggled. “That goes for you too.”

The red head only shook her head before parting ways at the hallway. “Don’t prick your finger too much.”

Bubbles stuck out her tongue playfully. “Don’t make Princess mad.”

♛♛♛

Buttercup hated ushering duty more than anything else. Carriage after carriage came, each one to a different family or prince. Apparently royal status didn’t matter as long as you could pay the entrance fee, then, you were in.

“Damn, how many men are here?” Buttercup blurted. She had been standing next to Mitch for the past hour waving and guiding in the horses.

“I lost count after fifty.” He frowned. “Turns out this thing is a contest, so they should be sent home left and right.”

“Eh, that means the place is going to be filled with snotty assholes.”

Another wave of men came in, each carriage fancier than the rest.

“They all look the same at this point.” She laughed and Mitch joined in.

Just as she said that, a carriage pulled up. Unlike the other golden and bronze ones, this one was made of black steel. She caught a glimpse of the men inside. A blond man with blue eyes and another with ginger locks and eyes the shade of crimson.

They passed by just as quickly as they arrived and she couldn’t place the feeling, but they seemed vaguely familiar.

“I can’t wait for this day to be over.” Mitch groaned and she hummed before looking back at the black carriage that had just past the gate.

♛♛♛

“Boomer, pay attention.” Brick spat at his younger brother. “We aren’t here to fool around.”

Boomer, who was currently jumping on the plush bed, stopped and rolled his eyes before grinning. “Come on bro, look at this place!” He gestured to the room they were staying in while the competition took place. “I mean, I know we live in our own castle but this place is almost twice the size!”

Brick frowned and went back to unpacking their things and making sure everything was in place. “Just settle down. Keep jumping like that and you’re going to damage something.” As soon as he said that, he heard a tearing sound come from behind him.

“Boomer!” He shouted, as his little brother stood there with a ripped sleeve in his nicest dark blue jacket.

“Oops?” He shrugged and watched his older brother’s face morph into anger.

“Eighteen years old and you still act like a child. Go see if the seamstress can fix your jacket before I punch you in the face.” He pointed towards the door.

“Fine.” The blond huffed. “But seriously, lighten up. No girl is gonna wanna marry a dude with the personality of a wet sock.” He said before shutting the door.

He heard Brick shout something on the other side of the door but he couldn’t make out the words through the thick walls. With his jacket under his arm, he walked through the hallways trying to find the seamstress’ room.

“Excuse me?” He asked a passing maid. “Where is the royal seamstress room?”

She stopped in her tracks, the small cart she was pushing was filled with an array of sweets and treats. She pointed towards the direction without a word and he smiled.

“Thank you!” He looked over at her and noticed the swirl of pink in her iris. “Woah, has anyone told you that your eyes look like rose petals?”

“No.” She hummed before walking past him with her cart.

“Oh… Well, thank you anyways.” He called after her before carrying on his way.

Blossom rolled her eyes. “Boys.”

Boomer finally found the door at the end of the hallway with a picture of a sewing needle engraved on the door. “Must be the one.” He said, before giving a swift knock.

He heard a voice call for him to come in and did just that.

“Excuse me, I don’t mean to be a bother but I ripped my jacket and needed it to be mended.”

A woman with long brown hair came over. She took the jacket and examined it, noting that the rip was quite large.

“Hmm.” She looked on the inside.

“Can you fix it?” He asked, now worried.

“I can’t but I know someone who can. Bubbles!” She shouted and he watched as a girl looked up from her station and their eyes locked.

Bubbles stood and made her way over. The moment her eyes locked to the man, she felt a blush instantly rise on her face. She was almost taken back by his charming smile and deep blue eyes. She had become lost in his eyes and almost forgotten what she was called over for.

“Bubbles?” Robin whispered and handed her the jacket.

She shook her head and returned to her senses as she looked at the rip.

“I can fix this, no worries.” She smiled and turned quickly to avoid his gaze. She suddenly felt very hot and light headed.

Boomer stood in his spot before realizing he was meant to follow her. Quickly, he caught up to her and watched in awe as she was almost done.

“So, how did you do this?” She asked.

“Oh uhh-I fell off a horse?” He lied.

“Fell off a horse?” She giggled. “Interesting.” She lifted the jacket before handing it to him.

He took the jacket and saw how the new seam was practically invisible, as if it had never ripped before. “Woah, you did that fast.”

“She's the best seamstress in the kingdom!” Robin shouted from across the room. “She also made the dress she's wearing.”

Boomer looked towards her and marveled at her dress. “It's pretty.”

“T-thank you.” She blushed.

They stood looking at each other with soft smiles before he looked at his feet then back to her. “I have to get going, but thank you so much, Miss Bubbles.”

“Oh, it was no trouble, just glad I could help.”

“I’m Boomer, by the way.” He took her hand and placed a kiss on it. “Your work is impeccable M’lady.” He said, before his cheeks turned red and he turned on his heel and hastily walked out the door.

A hush fell over the room as he left. A low whistle came from Robin’s lips as she looked at Bubbles with a smug look.

“I thought Blossom said not to fall in love?” She teased but Bubbles stood in place as if she was frozen and kept her eyes locked on the top of her hand where his lips had been moments before.

“Bubbles?” Robin asked her.

The blonde said nothing but grabbed her basket and headed towards the garden entrance. “I’ll be back.” She said quickly and left before Robin could protest.

“Oh, maybe she did fall in love.” Robin whispered to herself then shook her head. “No, that’s not it, right?” She said to the empty room.

♛♛♛

The cart filled with trays was placed out front of Princess’ private room, tucked far from the rest of the castle. Blossom took a deep breath before knocking a few times and entering with the cart.

“Princess Morebucks, your afternoon tea and treats.” Blossom said, as she started to place the many items onto the small table.

Princess sat at her mirror looking at her crown and placed it on the top of her head. The wild curls of copper puffed just at her shoulders.

“It's about time.” She complained and Blossom held in her scoff as she was used to the behavior of her, she had been here for a few years now.

Princess grabbed a tea cup and drank with as much poise as a badger, at least, that’s what Blossom thought.

“You know what’s funny, Blossom?” Princess said as she took a cookie from a silver platter.

“What?”

“Isn’t it just grand that all these men are traveling far and wide just for little old me?” She snickered.

“Oh, very grand.” Blossom said with no enthusiasm at all.

Another cookie was eaten. “It’s a shame Blossom, you really should be married by now. But instead, you flaunt around knowing how to read and write, it’s kinda annoying.”

“Well those are very useful skills to have, you should be grateful you possess them.”

“Could you fetch me those earrings?” Princess said, pointing towards her vanity.

Before Blossom could take a step, a finger snapped drawing her attention back to the princess.

“With your powers.”

Anger fested within Blossom as she held out her hand as commanded for the pink glow to rise. The ruby earrings became surrounded with the faint glow and soon floated up and over into Princess’s palms.

“There.” Blossom said with a bitter tone. She hated using her powers in general, a sad reminder of what she had lost and yet, Princess didn’t care. “Anything else, your majesty? Or may I take my leave?”

A dark chuckled came from her lips and Princess set her tea down. “Just one thing. You may not be seen during this time, nor Bubbles.”

“Excuse me?” Blossom challenged. “She’s a seamstress-”

“And there are others to take her place for now.” Princess cut her off.

“Why?”

“I don’t want you or your sisters encountering any of the men. Could you imagine the horrors if one of you lost your temper and they found out?”

Blossoms fists tightened at her side. “I can assure you that would never happen.”

“Your mother thought the same thing and yet…” Her voice trailed off as she looked innocently at her.

Blossom prided herself on keeping her temper at bay, but when it came to her family, that was much harder to control. “You know very well that bringing up my late parents isn’t very kind of you.”

A scoff came from Princess. “As if I care about being nice.”

“For the record Eliza.” Princess bristled at the use of her first name. “I am not jealous at the fact that men are paying to fight for your hand. I hope that one day you realize that love conquers the cost of affection.”

Princess didn’t bat an eye but instead yawned. “How enlightening, but that's where you lose Blossom. You’re foolish to think that in this world love can be more valuable than riches. Even with your beauty and brains, those powers are going to scare everyone off.”

“I-” Blossom tried to fight back, red in the face and her hands sparking bright pink.

“That’s why no one would ever love a poor orphan like you. Once people find out you and your sisters’ powers, you’re history. A true abomination, just like your mother.” Princess said before opening her door. “Now you may take your leave.”

The heavy door embellished with gold and jewels was slammed behind Blossom. She brought her hands to her face and wiped the start of her tears, trying not to let what she said get to her.

She took a deep breath and felt the tension in her palms from her magic. It was almost criminal that the princess would hold her magic against her, but nonetheless, she smoothed her skirt out before straightening her shoulders and walking away.

Her fists clenched at her side, diminishing the faint pink glow and she couldn’t stop from hearing Princess shrill voice over and over again.

“That’s why no one would ever love a poor orphan like you. Once people find out you and your sisters powers, you’re history. A true abomination, just like your mother.”

“And she calls herself a princess. Nothing short of a spoiled toddler.” She sneered to herself as she continued to walk aimlessly through the vast hallways. She found herself walking towards the library, one of the few places in the castle that didn’t feel foregin or made her feel like she had to walk on eggshells.

The grand doors opened and the smell of books filled her nose, providing her a sense of comfort she desperately craved. Thankful she was one of the only people who cared enough to enter this place, it was like a secret oasis that only she knew.

The vast library held rows upon rows of books, each one a different world for her to explore and she was only a small percentage of the way through. Her fingers laid on a shelf as she let them fall along the spines and feel the various textures. She mindlessly grabbed one and went towards the plush velvet chairs that sat beneath a set of tall windows letting herself get lost within the passage of words.

♛♛♛

Brick walked through the hallway set up for the suitors. He thought, with extreme confidence, that he was by far the best of the lot. He rolled his eyes towards a group of men who probably had money but nothing on his level. He didn’t have time for the foolish and meaningless chatter. He wasn’t here to make friends, maybe business partners, but his goal was clear.

The crown.

Of course he already had a kingdom of his own, but he wanted more. If he got the princess’s hand now, Boomer could take over their land and that just meant that the Jojo name would spread further and further, just like their late father wanted.

He never truly cared about who the princess was. This was about business, that was clear. When the invitations for the suitor competition came out, the only thing he’d learned about her was that she was beautiful with dark brown eyes and ginger hair. That was more than enough for him.

He took himself away from the other men and headed aimlessly about, just trying to find a quiet place to be alone. A large set of oak doors caught his attention and the scribe on the wall showed that this was indeed the library.

He doubted anyone else would be inside so he went in and closed the doors behind him. Without thinking, he grabbed a random book before seeing that there were many chairs placed around. As he came up towards the windows that went from the ceiling to the floor, he spotted a figure already in one of the chairs.

He approached the chair and noticed that it was a girl. His eyebrows furrowed as she was reading. There were not many women who knew how to read. She wore a soft pink dress and had a red ribbon tied up into her hair. Ginger hair. His eyes widened as he realized just who was sitting before him.

With a smirk, he stood in front of her and bowed.

“My apologies for interrupting, but it's an honor to meet you, your majesty.” Brick said.

The woman looked up at him. Her lips slightly parted and she had a look of confusion. He thought he was prepared to see the brown eyes from the description but instead he was met with a sensational and breathtaking view of pink.

“Your majesty?” Blossom said with shock.

♛♛♛

This was a monster to write and I hope you all enjoyed!!! this might be the only wipe's that I finish lol

#blossick #boomubbles #butchercup #reds #blues #greens #royal au #ppg x rrb #rrb x ppg #brick x blossom #boomer x bubbles #butch x buttercup #thewritingstar

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enternalempires · 3 years

Text

Those Eyes

This is a Ladynoir/Adrienette fic. It has switched Miraculous and a reveal and Marinette purring, lol. Lots of fluff. Hope you enjoy! Haven’t figured out how to use links yet but my Ao3 username is the same!

We all know that Plagg with Marinette would be chaotic as all hell, like she’d mention a very very bad course of action that would have us all going ‘second-hand embarrassment, no!!’ but that sarcastic little shit of a Kwami would be like, “Yes!! Do it!!!” because like, after eons of being alive and literally killing the dinos off along with various other disasters you just learn to not care anymore. And Adrien with Tikki would be chaotic in a different way. They’d be so?? Productive??? Like, they’d agree on so much and just vibe that it would be pure sunshine magic. Like, there’s a reason why they got the humans that they did.

Marinette shrieked, scrambling past a car that was picked up and thrown in her direction— successfully dodging any debris and sharp objects left over from the Akumas wake.

At eighteen years old, she knew better than to take off her earrings.

She knew she shouldn’t have, even if it was Adrien Agreste who asked her to change them out, promising with his life (as she made him do) that they would be safe in his bag. She knew that having a photo shoot with him and she in her original MDC designs shouldn’t have made her heart flutter but it did.

They were modeling together.

God, if the fifteen-year-old her could’ve predicted this, she would’ve melted in her spot.

But she didn’t.

And she also didn’t predict that Hawkmoth would choose absolutely the worst time to put an Akuma out into the streets of Paris, but she wasn’t surprised. Her luck as Ladybug never passed over into her life as Marinette— ruler of clumsiness and bad decisions.

Marinette knew she needed to get back to Tikki, she needed to find her earrings and quickly put them on.

She just didn’t expect to find the car that Adrien’s bag had been in to be completely destroyed with its contents spewed around the street.

Oh, she was screwed.

“Tikki,” She hissed, getting onto her knees and ignoring the glass that stuck into her palms as she shifted through all the now unrecognizable car’s contents. “Tikki, where are you?”

“Oh, this is golden,” A voice cackled from behind her and Marinette whipped around— coming face to face with a tiny black Kwami with glowing green eyes and a long tail. She blinked once, twice, and then noticed the bright silver, almost white ring he was carrying. “You’re Sugercube’s babybug, huh? Oh, loverboy is going to get a kick out of this.”

She gaped, unsure about how to continue.

“Do you have cheese?” He asked, scowling when she shook her head. “Great. What use are you then?”

“Uh…”

This was Chat Noir’s Kwami?

He seemed… completely opposite of Tikki.

“Well, aren’t you going to torture me now?” He asked, floating up to her face— his sardonic tone deepening as he lazily landed in Marinette’s palms as soon as she offered them up to him. “I’m Plagg, by the way. Why did you take the earrings off?”

“Urm, I’m Marinette and Tikki didn’t want me to but I kinda… I had this photoshoot thing that I had to switch them out for. So I did.”

“Oo! A rule breaker! I like you. My human is a goodie-goodie, unless it comes to you. He’s so in love that it’s revolting.”

“Not good at the emotional stuff, huh?”

“Nah, cheese is my love.”

“Oh,” Marinette raised an eyebrow. “Not the tiny goddess that calls you Stinky Socks?”

Giving her an eyeroll, Plagg huffed out, “Can you just say ‘claws out’ already?”

“Is there anything I need to know regarding Chat’s powers?”

“Be careful when you’re jumping around and moving, it’ll look a bit different than usual and you’ll be faster.” His voice was so bored that she couldn’t help but to giggle. “I’m awesome, so you’ll also be able to hear a lot better and see in the dark. Also, people will smell.”

“Excuse me?” Marinette blinked. “Smell?”

“Yep.” The black cat yawned exaggeratingly. “Loverboy says you smell good or whatever. Also, don’t ruin everything.”

For whatever reason, that made her cheeks flush and Plagg laughed, his cackle creating goosebumps to go over her skin.

He felt powerful— like destruction and death and sadness. He felt like he could destroy the whole world, like he could send it into a proverbial darkness, and Marinette was reminded of Paris drowned in water, and the moon cracked in half in the sky.

It was terrifying.

Plagg was terrifying.

Tikki felt light, like home.

Like life and warmth and creation and happiness. Her power was intimidating, it was skin-tight and heavy and weighed down her shoulders with a burden she never wanted but bore anyways.

Marinette wondered how his magic would feel after she transformed and looked around. The destruction still damaged around her, but she was hidden by three toppled over cars and couldn't see anyone through the cracks.

“Plagg,” She slipped the ring onto her middle finger, watching as it turned smaller and shone in a soft sky blue color. “Claws out!”

The power that overwhelmed her made her feel unbalanced, her head swarming like she was twenty feet underwater, the pressure pounding around her in all directions.

Being Ladybug felt suffocating sometimes. It felt like responsibility and trauma walked beside her every day.

But wearing the Black Cat Miraculous?

That felt like drowning.

Like devastation was clinging to her.

How did her kitty deal with this? With feeling demolition wreck havoc through his veins on an almost daily basis?

Ladybug— or well, she couldn’t be ladybug anymore— sucked in a harsh breath and looked around. The world was just… in ruins around her but it was more vivid than anything she experienced. The sun shone on everything brighter, the shadows almost nonexistent and the details— god, she was starting to see why Chat stared so much.

Taking her baton into her hands, the young heroine saw that the silver was the same color that the ring had turned into, a soft sky blue, and noted that in the light it glowed with an azure flicker.

Strange.

Turning around with a flinch as a loud boom followed by multiple screams rang throughout the street, the heroine had full intention to join in on the chaos and to hopefully find Chat— until she caught sight of herself in an upside-down car’s windshield.

She stood there gaping.

Unsure.

What the…

She wasn’t really sure what to expect, maybe an exact replica of Chat’s outfit, maybe her outfit as Ladybug but cat-themed but not… not this.

Her eyes were the same color but brighter, the iris having a deep blue ridge to them and the white part of her eyes were a slightly lighter shade. And her pupils— her pupils are slitted!

Wait.

Does that, does that mean that… that Chat’s eyes are normal now?

Ignoring that thought, she looked at the rest of her.

The suit was still the same black leather that her partner wore but with an azure shine to it. Around her neck, there was a dark blue bow with three loops made out of what seemed to be a soft and a baby blue bell in the middle.

Around her waist was the same blue ribbon that wrapped around her twice and then swished around her hips and extended towards her ankles in her ‘tail’.

Tail.

She had a tail.

Her eyes flew back up to her hair and her hands instantly shot up to her ears— leather ears exactly like Chat’s but they had light blue tips. They flicked and she felt it. She grabbed them with her hands and she squeaked.

How does he live like this?!

Instead of her pigtails, her hair was down to her shoulders with two thin ribbons going down to her shoulders. Her bangs were still present but the little hairs that used to frame her face on either side of her head and in front of her ears were now three curved whisks of hair that almost made her think they were supposed to resemble whiskers.

Her hands had claws, her wrists had ribbons and a small bow on them, as did her ankles— and her feet were shaped into paws!

Hopping on one foot, she saw the ‘toe beans’ on the bottom of her sole and squeaked rather loudly again.

She was a cat— a cat!

Her panicking came to an end when the car she was looking at herself was suddenly picked up and— thrown at her.

She heard it moving before she saw it, her ears perking up and dragging forward, her body leaping out of the way as the tension in her body raised. She sensed it coming towards her, somehow being able to feel the immediate area around her— she couldn’t stop observing it all.

Oh. Oh. It all makes sense now.

How Chat was always able to see the Akuma or any objects that were about to hit her before she did.

That and she could get so stuck in her head so much that it could be problematic.

Like now, for example.

The Akuma— a giant doll version of Reflekdoll, poor Juleka probably got akumatized again— was throwing things at her and, well, she tried her best to dodge, using her baton and newfound speed and agility to avoid being dangerously squished.

Unfortunately, she was rather clumsy with her new suit and powers.

She tried to listen to what Plagg had said, to be careful, and to be slower but she couldn’t. She never got hit by cars or building debris or the giant doll's hands but she flinched at her roars of rage and collided with building edges or other things she underestimated her own ability to stop with.

It would be so much easier if she had her yoyo or her wings to help guide her.

Where was her Chaton when she needed him?

Across town in a shady alleyway, Adrien Agreste was smiling brightly at the tiny red and black Kwami who was giving him a soft smile of her own— blue, almost purple eyes twinkling.

“I can tell why my babybug likes you so much,” Tikki said, having found and calmly explained the situation to the blond who she found calling out for Plagg mere minutes before. “You’re very polite and sweet, Stink Socks probably complains so much!”

“Thanks,” Adrien flushed slightly, wondering if he heard the miniature goddess correctly when she said that her Babybug, Ladybug by omission, liked him. “He’s not too bad as long as I give him enough camembert.

“Him and his cheese,” Tikki rolled her eyes before focusing them back on him, her smile turning encouraging. “I’m sure Plagg has found M— Ladybug by now. All you have to do is say ‘spots on’. I’m positive you’ll be able to handle it, Adrien! You’ve proven to be an amazing Chat Noir, I’m sure you’ll be an amazing Ladybug as well!”

“You’re… nothing like Plagg.”

“I know,” The Kwami giggles and strangely enough it reminds him of his lady’s giggles— that is until a loud shattering boom went through the air and shook the ground around them and a flash of black and blue went past the alley. “Ready?”

“Not really, but I’ll do my best!” Adrien gave a nervous chuckle and then took the earrings into his palms, then turning a darker sheen of red then what the black glowed with originally and the part of them that would go into the holes turned into cuffs.

When he put them on, he tugged, delighted in the way they were tight enough to never fall off unless physically torn from his ears.

“Alright, Tikki, spots on!”

Adrien didn’t expect the warmth that encased him.

Usually, the magic that he got from Plagg felt cold and secure, like a protective darkness hiding him from the loneliness, giving him the freedom to run through the night without fear of the isolation waiting for him at home.

Tikki’s magic felt heavy, like burning alive— and suddenly he understood the burden that had been placed onto his lady’s shoulders and the strictness in her eyes.

There was no room for mistakes.

The world was in her palms, she had become Atlas at thirteen and never complained once. She had taken up the mantle with wariness and a proud stance and she held it so tightly that she never dropped it once.

He sucked in a breath, almost doubling over with the weight of it all.

Ladybug— for five years— felt this unyielding responsibility? She did this and put up with him, him who teased and goofed around and made mistakes? Him who had admittedly gotten better over time but still flirts and is playful on the field?

How did she deal with that?!

Fortunately, he didn’t have to think long about that being a giant doll stopped at the edge of the alleyway, turned to him as he shuffled back and roared.

He saw his own reflection in the shiny face— a maroon suit with black details and a black mask, his hair the same mess, and the yoyo around his waist. Thick wings were on his back, he could feel them twitch and scuffle as they opened in surprise. Ladybug had wings, he didn’t know why he expected not to.

His eyes were wide and so normal that it took him a second too long to realize they were coming closer.

Because the doll was moving closer, making his reflection do the same.

Why couldn’t he sense it?

Why did everything look so… so familiar? No extra sight, no extra hearing. How did Ladybug do this— how could she fight while being so normal?

God, he always had a lot of respect for her but now he has even more.

Shooting into the air, the yoyo automatically swung in his hand as he used it to volt himself into the sky, having seen his lady do so so many times it was almost second nature. Once he got over the doll, she shrieked in agitation— looking like Reflekdoll— and moved her clanky, large body to try and grab him.

Chat, however, if he could even call himself that anymore, opened his wings with some experimentation and flapped them a couple of times, not expecting the power they held and went so far into the sky that the sight could rival their rendezvous point on the Eiffel tower.

He tried to drift right but ended up volting upside down and catching a large gust of wind that sent him backward, wings snapping painfully straight.

The hero yelped and desperately, yet futility, clawed at the air.

Where was his lady when he needed her?

The young heroine was just thinking she got the hang of how to run across the rooftops with her accelerated speed— having failed and either trip or face-planted into a chimney here or there— but a masculine yelp came from above her and she looked up just in time to see the panicked face of her partner before the deep red-suited boy with long wings crashed into her.

They went flying, both rolling as their bodies tangled together, the cold tiles of the roof underneath them not hurting but definitely not pleasant as they came to a stop a couple of seconds after.

She groaned, feeling his familiar and hard body underneath hers.

She wanted him to be there with her, of course, but that didn’t mean she wanted him to tackle her after being airborne.

“Chat,” She struggles to detangle her arms from around him, his wings crowding them more than the usual present-battle entanglement. She was grateful though for this moment, he was warm and soothing and Tikki’s magic felt like a breath of fresh air. “Why would you—”

Why would you try to fly?

She was going to ask, seeing as that’s most likely how he literally fell out of the sky and onto her but then, then something horrifying happened.

She started to purr.

“Eek!” She shot up, arms painfully pulling out of their spot as she desperately tried to crawl away from her partner. “No, no, no, no—”

“Milady,” Chat’s teasing voice froze her but, unfortunately, made the purring all the much louder and she snapped her eyes up to meet his startlingly normal eyes. “Are you doing that because of me?”

“N-no! No, of course not, that would be, that would be, uh—”

She tried to focus on what she was saying, her lie so obvious, but then that stupid cat put a gentle hand into her hair and started to massage her scalp, petting her so softly that her purrs echoed.

Why did that make her feel so warm inside and why did it feel so good?

“Aw, my little kitten.” Chat cooed out. “So adorable. You’re happy to see me, hm?”

“Hm— ah, n-no.” The heroine leaned into his palm, forgetting about their surroundings as she melted into his touch— that is until a prickling sensation shook her whole body and she heard the faintest scrap of metal against the ground.

Her eyes flew open again and she jerked back into a sitting position, eyes snapping to the right as her hackles raised. Another stupid car was coming right at them! Without much thought, the heroine pushed her partner down onto the opposite side of the roof, rolling down after him just as the vehicle smashed into the building.

Okay.

So this Akuma was the murderous kind.

Not the trap or trick kind.

Nice to know.

“Okay, we have to lure her towards the Seine,” She jumped into her usual serious mode, jumping to her feet and unaware that her tail was swishing behind her. “That way there’s less of those stupid cars to throw. I’m pretty sure everyone is to safety by now but we still don’t want her damaging buildings due to the people inside.”

“Ladybug— er, I mean… what do I call you now?” Chat asked, standing up and stretching his wings, and then almost falling over again due to the wind and some building chunks the muttering Akuma was chucking at them.

“Uh, I don’t know, you pick.” She said half mindlessly, blocking hits for both of them. “It looks like a bigger version of when Juleka got Akumatized but I haven’t seen anything that could be the object and trust me, I’ve been thrown around enough to catch all of her.”

“Bluebell Kitten,” He said, pointing to the bell in the middle of her bow. “And are you okay? Did you have trouble using the baton?”

“No, the baton is easy, it’s the stupid senses thing! How can you focus on anything?” The apparent kitten asked, pointing towards the Eiffel tower. “And for the record, I regret giving you the choice to choose, Scarlet Beetle.”

“Ah, nice name.” He grinned, heeding to her signal, and started to run in that direction. “I don’t know, it just comes naturally. Makes sense it would be overwhelming for you, though. You get no extra senses at all, I don’t know how you fight like this.”

“Quite easily,” Bluebell Kitten quipped. “And just wait until you use my charm, it’ll definitely knock you off your feet.”

“That’s okay,” Scarlet beetle helped her keep the right face and sent her a wink that sent her tail wagging embarrassingly. “It’ll just be another way I fell for you.”

“Whatever.” She rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the smile that made its appearance. “You ready for this, buggy?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be, kitten.”

The battle went by with a little struggle— Scarlet Beetle having to help Bluebell Kitten with her speed, showing her the best way to stop or how to adjust her eyes to focus properly on what she was doing and about the new depth perception she had. In return, the bug turned cat helped the still flirty boy fly better, teaching him how to find the right air currents and how to land— but the heroine could tell her partner struggled with the Miraculous.

It was a different kind of struggle than she had with his.

Sure, Plagg’s magic was uncomfortable and too light and just wrong against her skin but Tikki with her kitty? Not a good mix.

He struggled to understand that he couldn’t take any hits for her— that that was the Kitten’s responsibility now.

That, no matter how much he wanted to save her, he couldn’t do anything that would put himself incapacitated or at a greater risk. They could defend each other but he was the last line of defense— they were a team but he mattered more.

He was the only one that could heal those hurt, that could fix things that were broken.

“Minou,” She had sighed out, blue eyes sparring her partner a glance as she distracted and he tried to figure out what his lucky charm meant. “No self-sacrificing today, okay?”

“What do you mean?” Scarlet Beetle had asked, frowning as he spun his yoyo in a circle to block some rumble from hitting him.

“It’s not your job to protect me right now. It’s your job to survive long enough to defeat the Akuma and fix everything.”

“But—”

“No buts. You can’t put yourself at risk, even for me. Understood?”

Begrudgingly, the blond-haired boy nodded and they settled their full attention back into the battle. Within minutes it was done, both of them having used their powers and able to return poor Juleka back to the Couffaine boathouse after fist-bumping and answering Alya’s question when she stormed up to them for a report on the Ladyblog.

The heroine could tell that her poor bug was still upset, having witnessed her take a couple blows that he hadn’t seen coming— being more unattentive than usual and not able to sense as much.

She had broken ribs but still fought by his side.

Broken ribs were nothing compared to what he went through before, she had told herself. He had died before, she wasn’t as unlucky.

“Chaton,” The Kitten grabbed his wrist, stopping him from where they were running on a roof, his earring cuffs beeping letting them know he only had three minutes left, her ring was at four. It had been roughly twenty minutes since they used their powers; more time from being older and getting more powers and mature suits. “I’m sorry that today was bad for you.”

“I’m just… I’m not used to not being able to protect you, milady.” He grumbled with a pout, crossing his arms over his chest. “I don’t like it.”

“It was only for today,” She reminded softly. “And I know how you feel but you just— you have to remind yourself that what happened, how I was hurt, wasn’t your fault. I know you would’ve protected me if you could have. That’s one of the burdens of having the Ladybug Miraculous.”

Scarlet Beetle just frowns at her and she sighs, reaching up a hand to softly cup his cheek.

“It’s okay, Kitty,” She smiles. “I’m fine now, aren’t I?”

“Is this how it’s like for you?” He questions, shiny green eyes flickering between her own. “Feeling helpless? Just watching and unable to save… I was unable to save you. I can’t, I can't do that again—”

Scarlet cuts himself off with a choking sound, hand clenching by his side with tears in his eyes. He trembled slightly and the Kitten felt her ears press flat as she recognized the terror in his eyes.

“Come here,” She holds her arms open, offering a hug and her boy is quick to take the opportunity and wrap himself into her gentle hold. “I know that was a hard fight but you’re not going to lose me, okay? Never. You’re stuck with me now, I’m not going to leave you or get hurt and not be there. I promise.”

“Promise,” He wiggles until his arm is free and holds out his pinky, the action so adorable that she can’t help but to giggle as she lifts her own hand and interwinds her pinky with his.

Beeps echo through the night and Bluebell pulls away, running a hand through Scarlet’s hair to make it even messier. She ruffled the spots his ears would normally be and smiled when the strands fluffed up and stuck up into different angles.

“We have to go, Minou.” She boops his nose. “Meet me in our hotel room tower tonight, we’ll switch back to normal.”

“Okay,” He gives her a goofy smile. “What does Tikki like to eat?”

“Chocolate chip cookies, or just sweets in general. Plagg likes cheese, right?”

“Really! Cookies are so much better than stinky camembert— which I’m guessing he mentioned. Do you, urm, even have that?”

“My dad’s secretly a cheese fanatic, I’m sure I can smuggle some of the good stuff from him.” Bluebell tilted her head slightly, eyeing his wings. “Don’t fly if you’re going into a window or something narrow because, and no offense, you're not good enough to avoid smacking into it and breaking something.”

“I take full offense,” He winks. “See you Milady.”

“See you, kitty.”

“Can you keep me?” Plagg asked, staring dreamily at the gruyere cheese that the young heroine had given him shortly after she detransformed and made it back home— and after he laughed about the pictures of all her friends including Adrien and Chat Noir on her walls. “I know I called you mushy and sentimental but this is even better than camembert!”

Marinette laughs and shakes her head, “Sorry Plagg, I prefer Tikki. I don’t like smelling like cheese.” Even if gruyere smelled quite a lot better than camembert.

“Ugh, humans.” The Kwami grumbles. “So fickle. You just wanna smell good for loverboy. I think that cheese smells amazing, for the record.”

“Your opinion has been noted.” She nods to him. “And I don’t want to smell good for Chat!”

“Mhm,” Plagg rolled his eyes. “Sure.”

“I’m not!”

“I totally believe you, kid.”

“You’re horrible,” She grumbles.

“Yeah, yeah. Feed me some more.”

“No.”

“Feed me!”

“Stop yelling or I’m telling Tikki you were being mean to me.”

“Hey!” Plagg turned to her with glaring green eyes. “Don’t bring Sugarcube into this.”

Marinette turned to him and raised an eyebrow, “Then don’t bring my kitty into this.”

“Aw,” He snickered. “You called him your kitty. He’ll get a kick out of that.”

“Plagg, claws out!” Marinette flushed a bright red and a green light encased her.

Time to go visit her kitty— because he is hers, no matter Plagg’s teasing.

Across town in a lonely room, Adrien was laughing so hard his stomach was hurting and tears were coming out of his eyes. He was practically wheezing at this point, curled up as he tried to catch his breath— something that, at this point, was useless.

He had managed to convince Tikki to try some of Plagg’s camembert.

And the little Kwami quite honestly looked like she was going to throw up, cheeks going almost a purple as she grimaced and gagged.

It shouldn’t have been as funny as it was but Adrien couldn’t help it.

Tikki was so different than Plagg and the simple fact that she looked like she was ready to die right then and there from the mere taste of the black cat’s favorite food was one of the funniest things he has ever seen.

“Haha,” She said, voice light but disgusted as she tried to cover up the taste with chocolate— which, by her expression, he could tell did not blend well. “Now you have to try it. Fair is fair.”

“No!” He choked on a chuckle. “Plagg has tried to feed me it so many times and succeeded. I don’t need to smell like that cheese more than I already do!”

“Hmph,” Tikki crossed her arms and floated up to his face. “I’m going to tell baby bug you tried to poison me.”

Adrien gaped, “You wouldn’t.”

The miniature goddess giggled, “You’re right, but your expression was worth it!”

“You’re so much nicer than Plagg, I can see why Ladybug loves you so much,” He commented, blinking slightly at the little Kwami’s stupefied expression. “She’s talked about you before. I didn’t know your name or anything but a couple of times during patrol she mentioned how, well… how she was so grateful you were her best friend.”

“Really?” Tikki gave an excited smile that only widened as Adrien nodded.

“Really really.”

“Well, she’s the best Ladybug I’ve had. The youngest too.” Her smile goes softer with a tender look only a being as long as she had lived could have. “I don’t know how she does it all, but despite all she thinks about herself, she’s a very resourceful little bug. I couldn’t be prouder of her. Or of you, Adrien! Plagg loves you, even if the stinky socks won’t admit it.”

“Thank you. He purrs when I hug him, even if he yells at me.”

“Does he really?” Tikki laughed joyfully. “I’ll have fun teasing him about that.”

“I thought you were the one that got teased?” Adrien tilted his head to the side.

“It goes both ways,” She reassured. “He’s just better at it.”

“I see. Did he really kill all the dinosaurs?”

“And the doo-doo birds.”

“No!” He gasped. “Evil.”

“Laziness and distractions,” The kwami corrected, lifting a solemn paw. “He was different back then. Less happy.”

“Less happy?” Adrien questioned.

He always assumed that cheese was the only thing that made Plagg truly happy, well, until he met Tikki and she had shared a couple of stories, telling him about all the interesting things they’ve been through together.

“Yeah,” Tikki gave him a sad smile. “We’ve been around since the dawn of creation, Adrien, we’ve seen countless civilizations and being rise and fall, empires turned to nothing more than ash. We’ve seen evil rise and good defend time and time again. My bugs… they are always smart, always compassionate people. Sometimes gentle and sweet like your lady is. Sometimes not. But they all— each and every single one of them— see horribly traumatizing things that Plagg’s holders do not, they get torn apart from the inside out. But his kittens? They get hurt more. They risk more. They die more and they die first. Always. And he dies with them a bit each time.”

“That’s…”

Adrien didn’t even know what that was, the only thing that came to mind was— sad.

“I know,” She gave him that motherly smile of hers, tone soft and soothing but with a note of sadness to it. “You don’t have to say it. Plagg takes a long time to open up to someone. He doesn’t like acting close, he doesn’t like being close— he said that it hurts less that way. But I know that it hurts the same, that it hurts even more. That he wants more time with them, I know I always do.”

“I can’t speak for anyone but myself,” The young hero says. “But I know that whenever I go, I will want more time with him, too.”

Tikki fixes him with a sweet look in her eye, “That’ll mean a lot to Stinky Socks. Could you tell him that?”

“Of course,” Adrien gives her one of his bright smiles— one that’s actually real. “It’s almost time to meet Milady at our room, are you all energized?”

Their room was at Le Grand Paris, paid for by Major Bourgeois after he assured the two heroes that there would be no supervallince, no one allowed on that floor (the very top) without their explicit permission and that they could come there at any time, the balcony always unlocked.

Chloe told them that it was a gift to her favorite superhero and ‘friend’ of all time.

Ladybug gave a weak smile and scowled once whom she considered to be a nuisance looked away.

Besides Chloe beings, well… Chloe, Adrien had no clue what she could’ve done to make his lady hate her so much. They interacted once every couple months due to her causing an Akuma, so maybe that was it but the dislikement Ladybug had for the girl seemed to go beyond that.

It seemed personal.

“Yep! Take me back to my baby bug, please.” Tikki smiles at him.

Returning the look, Adrien calls out, “Spots on!” And is encased into a burning, dark red light before the same maroon suit and dark wings flexed against his skin.

Scarlet beetle sighed.

Oh, how he couldn’t wait to see his lady.

Arriving at Le Grand Paris, Bluebell Kitten knew that her partner was already inside based on the precariously left open door and an album from Jagged Stone that she could hear extraordinarily well even from outside.

She, expecting to be able to stop, landed onto the balcony and put away her baton— only for her clumsy feet to stumble due to her speed and she crashed right through the open door, thankful that he left it open.

Then for the second time that day, the two heroes crashed into each other before slamming into the floor, the Kitten on top of the beetle and both bright red, bodies tangled up and so close that she couldn’t tell where she ended and he started.

“H-hey, Milady.” He, for some reason, chuckled and cupped the back of her head, holding her gently as he shifted slightly underneath her. “That eager to be bugged by me, huh?”

“Chaton,” The heroine scowled, pushing herself onto her elbows as she rests peacefully against his chest. “Aren’t you punned out for the day?”

“When am I ever punned out, little kitten?”

Bluebell shrieks as a purr loudly announces her appreciation— that she otherwise would’ve been able to hide— for the pet name and she scrambled back as that stupid blond started to laugh.

“Chat!” She covers her mouth with both hands, desperately trying to stop both her blush and the noise coming from her as it only grows thanks to her useless partner pulling her back onto him with a wicked grin. “Make it stop! How do I make it stop?”

“I don’t know if I want to help you with this, Milady,” He bites the inside of his cheek. “I quite like you not being able to hide how you feel.”

The purr in her chest turned into a soothing, almost constant rumble and she pouted.

“Yeah, well, I don’t.” The words seemed to vibrate in her throat and she swallowed the odd tickling feeling down. “I purr, Chaton. Purr! And every time I look at you my stupid tail wants to act up! Why? Because it hates me.”

“No,” He grinned. “Because you loooove me.”

Flushing deeply, she buries her head into her hands— deciding that's not enough and then buries it into his chest to hide the red-stained cheeks but Scarlet Beetle only laughs, telling her he saw it already.

“Come on, Bugaboo. I’m just teasing you.”

“I don’t like this.”

“But you like me.”

“Chat!”

“What? I didn’t do anything.” His laugh deepens and she can feel it in her own chest, being that close to him. That traitorous purr only gets louder. Stupid, stupid cat instincts. Why can’t she enjoy the sound of his laugh without him knowing? Was that too much to ask?

“Just give me my miraculous back, you silly tomcat,” Bluebell grumbles, successfully sitting up this time, the purr quieting when Scarlet Beetle puts his hands back to his sides. “And don’t tease my purring!”

“Why not?” He pouts. “You tease my purring.”

“That’s different,” She whines. “You’re cute when you do it. It’s just weird for me too! I don’t want to be able to hear your heart beating— wait!” She stared at him in wide-eyed horror. “Do you… do you usually hear that good?”

“Yeah?” The hero gives her a weird look. “But I learned to ignore it, why?”

“No reason.” She sighs, looking away from her partner as she scrambles off of him, both standing up and a foot apart. “Point is, I’m a cat person but I don’t want to be a cat.”

“I rather like seeing you as a cat,” His comment earns a dry look.

“I’m sure you just love seeing me prance around in leather but I like being Ladybug, not a kitty.”

“But you're my kitten,” Beetle’s pout returns, and his green eyes widen innocently— almost as bad as Manon’s when she wants something.

The longer she stared into his eyes, the more familiar they became.

Not because they were Chat’s eyes, no— she’s seen her partner’s slitted gaze thousands of times. She’s seen him look at her a thousand times with that look in his eyes, too. The look that got her heart racing and the ‘what ifs’ to drag through her mind.

But these eyes?

And that expression?

She saw it somewhere else, on someone else.

All she can do is stare blankly at him, mind reeling.

No… no, it can’t be him— Chat can’t be—

But he could.

The missed classes, the poor excuses, the exhaustion, the secret gaze, the trusting of her civilian self. Blonde hair, green eyes. Bad father. Kind, selfless, smart. Lonely. The gentlest soul she has ever met.

Everything just clicked.

The thing they had been dancing around for years just fell into place looking into those eyes— eyes she used to be too nervous to look into. Eyes she tripped over, eyes she used to be in love with; eyes she still was in love with.

Raising a shaking hand to his cheek, she caressed it softly before bringing it up to his hair and brushing the strands back. He watched her, curious gaze intense as they locked eyes.

“Adrien?”

The name passed her lips so softly, so assured, and her kitty flinched in surprise, wide eyes filling first with confusion, then panic, and then with questions.

“How did you…”

She fell for him once under the hood of an umbrella and a sincere apology, with thunder and lightning crashing around them in the downpour but she didn’t mind. She wasn’t the only thing in Paris that day that felt so heavy that she could scream and she didn’t mind. She fell in love with the sweet boy with good grades and a sadness trapped into a smile. She fell in love with the boy who did everything he could to make his father happy, to help people. She fell in love with the boy beyond the good boy, perfect model facade he put on.

She fell in love with Adrien Agreste at fifteen.

She fell in love with him again at eighteen but it was different this time. There was no lightning, no quick strike of feelings and amazement and warmth. No, it was like swimming in shallow waters only to get swept up in the tides, completely trusting the water to keep her safe.

She fell in love with the puns, with the goofy smile and flicking ears and curious green eyes. She fell in love with her best friend, her partner. She fell in love with the boy in the mask, the one who supported her whenever she needed it and held her even when she didn’t. She fell in love with his sensitive heart and sharp mind.

She fell in love with Chat Noir.

And ever since then she’s been falling all over the place, enamoured over everything he did. She fell and fell and fell. There were so many things to love about him— both sides of him.

How couldn’t she see it before?

Because, honestly, who else could’ve been good enough to be Chat Noir?

“Your eyes,” She murmured almost absentmindedly, looking between the verdant orbs. “They’re usually darker and slitted. Cats eyes. But… but these eyes? These are Adrien Agreste’s eyes. I know these eyes, they’re beautiful.”

She could hear his heart racing and she could see the almost begging way he looked at her. She could see the tension in his body, the way he could so easily shrink in on himself.

“And is… is being Adrien okay?” The hero questioned, wincing slightly as he looked away from her. “Are you disappointed that it’s me?”

“Of course not,” She giggled and that stupid purr still hadn’t left. “You’re you. How could that ever disappoint me, Chaton?”

“I don’t know... I’m not, I don’t— do I know you?” Adrien— Chat— questioned, shuffling on his feet as he leaned into her touch. “Outside of the mask, I mean?”

She felt the purring stop and her ears went back. She retracted her hand slowly to her cheek and hugged herself around the middle. She looked down at the wings opened anxiously against his back, not wanting to see the disappointment on his face.

“Yeah,” The heroine nods. “We’re friends.”

Friends.

That’s all they were.

Chat Noir and Adrien were in love with Ladybug— not her.

She wasn’t elegant or agile, she tripped over her feet three times a day and could be so unorganized and forgetful that she drove herself insane. She wasn’t too confident and she was far from brave.

Marinette wasn’t like Ladybug.

She wasn’t… she wasn’t that perfect girl Chat made her out to be.

Adrien was her friend, they hung out and could have good conversations but she noticed that he avoided her slightly, almost like he was disgusted by her. Like she made him uncomfortable.

Like he couldn’t stand her, even if he was polite.

It was almost like how she acted the first year they knew each other but he seemed more… wary, like she had done something to offend him and he was just waiting for her to realize or talk to him about it.

Would he be disappointed that she’s Ladybug?

Angry, even?

“Why do you look so sad, bugaboo?” Adrien asks, concern touching his tone. “Did you— do you not want to be my friend?”

When she looked at him, her poor partner looked ready to drop with worry and she gave a watery chuckle, just realizing there were tears in her eyes.

“Sorry,” She rubs the wetness away, almost poking herself with the claws. “I just… you don’t like me much. The civilian me, anyway. I don’t want you to be upset that it’s me.”

“There are very few people I don’t like,” He frowned. “And none of them have blue hair, or blue eyes, or your smile. Who are you?”

Bluebell lowered her eyes, “You won’t hate me?”

It’s always been a fear of hers— Chat finding out who she actually was and leaving her, being disgusted. How could an insecure klutz like that protect Paris? How could he trust the girl who couldn’t get three good sentences out to him to talk down an Akuma or soothe one of the victims with her tone?

How could he still love her, knowing the girl underneath the mask?

Ladybug was stunning.

Marinette was just… Marinette.

“I couldn’t even if I tried,” Adrien reassured her, wringing his hands together in such a cute, unlike-Chat way that she giggled. “Can I detransform?”

“Sure,” She took a step back again, nervous for no reason at all.

It was just Chat, just her partner. Just the boy she’s been in love with for the last five years.

No big deal.

None whatsoever.

“Are you sure?” He asked. “You look like you’re going to cry. Oh no, I’m so sorry! I knew you wouldn’t like that I was Adrien! God, I’m so stupid—”

“Stop being mean to yourself!” She snapped. “I care about you, both sides! I care that you’re Adrien because you make me a little nervous but it’s nothing bad, I promise! I just have, urm… it’s a lot to process.”

“...Understandable.” He swallowed, then said, “Spots off.”

A flash of red consumed Scarlet Beetle and in his place stood Adrien, hair neater and muscular body less accentuated in his, ironically, ladybug-themed sweater and jeans that she knew he wore to school.

It was Adrien Agreste.

Her friend Adrien Agreste.

Bluebell knew that— of course she knew that but seeing it… it took her breath away.

Tikki floated between the two heroes with wide eyes, glancing to her baby bug and then back to the blond. She had no clue what was happening and her holder dreaded the lecture she’d get later of the importance of keeping their identities a secret.

With slightly narrowed eyes but an encouraging smile, Tikki went over to the other side of the room where the cookies were at and started to eat.

She could feel the Kwami’s eyes on her and the anxiety creeping around her veins pulsed viciously.

Taking a deep breath, she looked Adrien in the eyes— and then purred.

Loudly.

Horrifyingly loud.

When will this nightmare end?!

“Eep!” She stumbles back, flushing. “I don’t mean to, I swear!”

Adrien gives her that bemused smile, one usually reserved for Marinette after she did something weird or awkward, and chuckles, “It’s okay, Milady. No judgment here.”

“Thanks.” She said, still covering her cheeks.

“Are you, um… going to detransform, too?”

She knows that Adrien— Chat— has wanted to know who she was since the day they met. She wanted to know too but the fear of Hawkmoth getting to them outweighed the desire.

But thinking about it and actually telling him were two different things.

“I meant what I said,” Bluebell told him, voice steady but wary. “You avoid me and… and the way you look at me— we’re friends but just don’t… don’t get your hopes up that I’m someone you’ll like.”

“I already know I like you, with or without the mask.” He reassured, that usual comforting smile on his lips that got him that sunshine-boy reputation. “So please, bugaboo? I really want to know who you are.”

She bit her lip, holding her breath for a couple of seconds as she held herself in place too, leaning against the wall besides the windows.

She felt trapped, worried, but also excited.

She wanted him to know, even if she was scared.

She was far enough away from him, she could probably make it to the window and escape if he looked absolutely revolted by her.

She’s faced rejection before.

She could do it again.

Even if it would hurt really, really bad.

“Claws in.” She said, face turned to the ground as she trembled.

Oh God, there was no turning back now.

The soft baby blue light surrounded her, the drowning, beating wave-like power of the Miraculous leaving her as Plagg appeared in the air next to her arm— him being tackled by Tikki before he could even say anything, followed by a loud ‘shush’ from the Kwami.

Marinette stood there, shoulders raised with tension and her heart pounding behind her ears. She had the strongest urge to hide her face from view, to run away from all of this.

From his reaction.

“You’re… you’re Marinette.” Adrien said this slowly. He got a nod in reply. “And you think that I— Adrien Agreste— don’t like you?”

She gave another nod, not trusting her voice to speak.

She couldn’t even look at him. How pathetic could she get?

“I don’t hate you, Mari,” He said this and Marinette shyly looked up, flushing at the look of adoration on his face. He could still look at her like that? How? “I always noticed how uncomfortable I made you, I was just giving you space. I didn’t mean to make you upset, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” She rubs her arms and looks away again. “You don’t make me uncomfortable, just nervous.”

“Why?” Adrien questioned, voice almost cracking. “Do I intimidate you or something?”

Marinette couldn’t help it. She laughed.

“Intimidate me?” This is said with a giggle and she makes her amused eyes meet his. “You think you’re intimidating? Cute.”

“Hey,” His tone turned slightly offended and she bit her lip as he pouted. “I can be intimidating and scary.”

“Yeah?” She teases, leaning forward with that twinkle in her eyes— playful like how she could be with Chat. Because this was Chat. “Do it. Be scary. Intimidate me, ‘o frightening one.”

“Urm, I d-don’t think I can right now. You’re you.”

“Does your brain feel like it’s going to explode?” Marinette asks, blue clashing with green as she tilts her head to the side.

“Kinda.” Adrien admits sheepishly. “I’m still trying to understand why you get nervous around me.”

“Uh,” She blinks, a sheepish smile coming onto her face. “I know you’re in love with Ladybug but— but I’m not her, I’m not that great. I’m just me. And you think of me— Marinette— as a friend. But… I’ve kind of been in love with you since Dupont?”

“You what?”

“Been in love with you,” Marinette’s face burned. “Since I was about thirteen. I hated you at first, you were friends with Chloe and the gum on my seat didn’t help but then I noticed how kind you were. Smart, selfless. Lonely, too but you don’t like talking about that so I’m sorry for mentioning it— I just, I fell in love with you and that’s why you always made me nervous because I didn’t think you could love me back.”

“Marinette,” Adrien looks at her, tenderness and seriousness oddly mixed in his gaze as he slowly walked towards her. “I’ve been in love with you from the second we met. And don’t say that you’re not Ladybug because you are, both inside and outside of the mask. You help people, you protect them. You’re passionate and strong and stubborn and I love you. I don’t know how many times I’ll have to say it before you believe me but I’ll do it until then and even after. I love you. I love you so much that it hurts— mph!”

With slight tears pricking her eyes, Marinette closed the distance between them and wrapped him into a tight hug, his now familiar body both making her feel calm and make her heart race.

“I love you too.”

Adrien sighs contently, wrapping his arms around her too. He held her gently but tightly, not willing to let her go but not risking hurting her— not that the silly kitty could.

Suddenly he chuckles and says, “That explained why you purred.”

“I said not to tease me!” She whined, pulling back enough that she could look up at him with narrowed eyes. “You’re so mean, Chaton.”

“And you’re stunning, Bugaboo.”

The comment made Marinette squeak and dunk her head, desperate to get her blush out of his eyesight— but a soft yet collapsed hand holding lightly onto her chin stopped the action, Adrien bringing her eyes back up to look at him.

“You believe me when I say that, yes?” He asks. “Because I mean it. Everything about you is gorgeous, I don’t know how I didn’t realize the two girls I fell in love with were the same one.”

“It’s because we’re both stupid,” She giggles, stering the converastion away from compliments, unsure of how much warmer her face could get before she combusted. “But I also blame your hair.”

“My hair?” He raises an eyebrow.

“Mhm,” She hums, reaching up to play with the soft strands as she had done so hundreds of times before. “You always have it so neat but as Chat it’s messy.”

“I like it better that way,” He explains, a slight purr to his voice. “It’s more comfortable.”

“Both styles are equally cute, so you’re lucky.” She murmurs absentmindedly, still focused on his hair, ruffling it slightly with a smile. Then she notices the ear cuffs he had on and blinked in surprise. “Are those my earrings?”

“Huh?” Adrien blinks his eyes open and Marinette giggles at his dazed expression. Even without the ring he was her silly kitty who liked to be pet and cuddled. “Oh, yeah. They changed when I touched them.”

“Your ring did too,” She shows him. “It was weird, I thought it would’ve stayed silver.”

“Yeah, me too,” He poked the ring and then gently slides it off of her finger, putting it on his own before reaching up for the earrings and giving them back to their rightful owner who puts them off and sighs in relief.

This magic was familiar— this magic was warm and like home and tight enough to keep her safe, not like swimming in an open ocean and gasping for air only for her lungs to fill with water instead.

“Mari?”

“Yes?” She looks up at him, seeing questions in his verdant eyes.

“Have you, um, seen something bad that I haven’t?”

It was admittedly a weird question, one that through her off guard but one that also made her think of the word drowned in water and dust, of the Eiffel tower toppled over, of watching herself crumple and fade, of seeing the moon cracked open in the sky and a boy in white with blue, crying eyes and a broken soul.

It made her think of how she saved him— but how she hadn’t saved her Chaton all those times, how she watched him die and fade and get captured and tortured and taken control of.

It made her think of the trauma of watching her city burn and the people in it all relying on her since the tender age of thirteen to save them all.

It made her think of all the times she had to protect everyone by herself because she lost Chat after he risked everything to save her.

Realizing she got lost in thought, Marinette startled and focused back onto her partner, “Yes, but don’t worry Minou. I can handle it.”

“I want you to be able to talk to me about those things,” Adrien murmured softly. “Tikki told me that all her Ladybugs live through things Chat Noirs don’t— but we’re a team. I want to share that burden with you.”

She sighed— and then she told him about Chat Blanc, she told him about how Paris drowned under the weight of their love three years ago and she’s been scared for him ever since, she told him about all of it.

By the end, they were both in tears and holding onto each other.

A weight feels like it was lifted off of her shoulders, like she was light enough to just float. It felt good talking about it, to let go all of that terror and heartache she accumulated over the years.

“You’re stronger than I ever knew,” Adrien kisses her forehead and her heart flutters. “I’m so proud of you, my little kitten.”

“Adrien,” She whines, hiding her face into his shoulder. “Stop.”

“Stop what?” He chuckles, lightening the mood. He always had a way of doing that. “Complimenting you?”

“Yes, I’m not used to it!” Marinette exclaimed. “You’re making me blush too much!”

“What if that’s my goal?”

“Then it’s a bad goal.”

“Meow-ch, Princess.” Adrien puts a hand over his heart. “You hurt me so, but fine. If that’s a bad goal, then what’s a good one?”

Feeling brave, she shoots him a wide smirk, “Kissing you until you’re breathless.”

He just stares at her, gaping as he blinks.

“What, Kitty?” She teases, leaning closer. “You flirt all the time but can’t take it?”

“No, it’s j-just… I completely support that goal.”

Laughing, Marinette rolls his eyes before cupping his face and kissing him— the feeling of his soft lips on hers sending a shiver down her spine. It was passionate and slow and loving, a kiss that told both of them all they had been feeling for these years.

It was a kiss that told them no matter what happened, they’d be okay.

So they kissed, again and again until they lost reality.

Going through the pain of having their Miraculous switched was worth it.

#switched miraculous #adrien x marinette #adrienette #adrien agreste #ml ladybug #ml adrien #mlb fanfic #miraculous ladybug #miraculous kwami #kitten #purring #Chat Noir and Ladybug #marinette dupain cheng #mlb fic #fluff #fight #akuma attack #long post #long fic

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