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adrenaline-roulette · 3 years

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Four Eighths

Pairing: Four x Eight (Reader) Word Count: 5.5K+ Warnings: Language *Disclaimer, Hi everybody. I first of all would like to apologise to those who have been waiting for months for a new chapter, this chapter has been partially written since September, however in that time, my aunt passed away. It has hit me very hard, and during this time, I needed to take a step away from writing, to be with my family, and also to take time to look after myself and my mental health. I’m doing better now, and with that means I am slowly updating my works which have been neglected as of late. So for those who are returning viewers of this series, I thank you from the bottom of my heart for coming back and waiting with me. And for those new to this series, welcome and I hope you stay with us. Much love to you all!

Chapters One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, and Nine can be found here! (That’s right baby, we’ve officially reached double digits for chapters!)

Chapter Ten: Darkest paradise I’ve ever seen

Flying into Noumea, your headphones pressed snuggly against your ears, you watch as miles upon miles of crystal blue ocean spans ahead of you. From just about every direction you look through the small aeroplane window, all you can see is blue. That is aside from the tiny speck on the horizon, which you can only assume is in fact, your destination. It seems awfully far away, and a part of you has managed to convince the less logical section of your brain, that you still have plenty of time before you arrive. Before the plan takes motion. Before shit goes down. Or you have months to continue planning your take down of the Lushnick’s…. But as you gaze out the window once more, the tiny speck growing ever larger, your rational mind takes over, reminding you that in less than two weeks, provided everything went according to plan, the Lushnick’s would be yours.

As the plane touches down at La Tontouta international airport, you await the captain’s departure announcement before standing up and stretching your cramping legs, feeling your joints pop, and muscles ache from having spent too long in one position. Once the initial rush of passengers have passed you, you reach up into the overhead compartments and retrieve the navy blue rucksack you had stowed up there. With the bag flung over your shoulder, you disembark the plane, and head towards the baggage carousel within the terminal. Within your rucksack, along with a few emergency items on the off chance your bags were lost, included five various ID cards, all hand made for you by One’s slightly shady yet reliable connection; a wad of Pacific Franc, the currency of New Caledonia, and of course your laptop. One had assured you that the apartment you would be using as a base had all the setup you required, however you felt more confident with your own computer, even just as a backup for an emergency. As you cross the tarmac, you recall the burner phone One had given you upon your departure, the only contacts held within were those of the Ghost’s, though knowing that you still have the ability to communicate with your team before their arrival helped alleviate some of your nerves. Switching the phone off flight mode, you held it firmly in your sweaty palm, half expecting it to buzz to life with missed notifications, as it would if it were your true phone. The influx of notifications never come, there is however one which does buzz through. ‘Are you safe?’

You scan over the message again and again, reading just about every possible subtext into it within a matter of seconds, before finally, you take a deep breath in, hold it for ten seconds, then release. ‘It’s Four, don’t be so dramatic. He actually cares about you.’ You remind yourself, just as your thumbs tap against the phone keyboard. ‘Just landed. Collecting bags then heading to the apartment. Should be there within the hour.’ You reply, pocketing the phone again and keeping your eyes peeled for you luggage.

The phone vibrates again, but this time you ignore it, opting instead to find the Taxi rank now that you had procured your bags. On you way through the airport, you discard you boarding pass into a trashcan, saying a mental goodbye to the alias of Ginevra Connelly. Of course you still kept the ID card with Ginevra’s details in your bag just in case, but the aim was to only use each alias once. One for flying, one for working, and one for personal business. The others were just there if any unexpected events should arise. Once outside, you only need wait a few minutes before a taxi pulls up, the driver popping the trunk of the car for you to deposit your bags. Once the trunk is closed, you slide into the back seat, sitting directly behind the driver. “Bonjour.” The driver offers with a small smile, meeting your eyes in the rear-view mirror.

You smile gently back. “Bonjour.” You greet, before reciting off the address to the apartment in Noumea which One had insisted you memorise.

With a nod of his head, the taxi driver speeds off, either ignoring or simply disregarding all speed signs which he passed. As he drove like a bat out of hell, you check your phone once more. ‘That’s good. Glad you’re alright.’ Four had replied, earning a small smile to creep over your lips.

‘Well, the flight didn’t kill me. Can’t say the same about my driver though….’

‘Axe murderer?’

‘Nothing quite as exciting. Or at least, I didn’t notice an axe when I checked the trunk…. Just a crazy driver is all. You’ll see when you get here. It looks to be a trend.’

‘Can’t wait!’ Before a rapid second response of. ‘Stay out of trouble until I get there please?’

‘I promise.’

‘Thank you.’

‘Love yo-‘ You begin typing, before frantically deleting the characters. As much as you wanted to send the message, you just couldn’t quite bring yourself to do it. Something about sending those words, via a burner phone while you’re in a totally different country, just felt wrong. Perhaps that was the nerves of the mission talking? No matter, you would saver the phrase for when you saw Four in person.

You put your phone away after that, not trusting yourself to continue the conversation with the direction it was headed. You knew Four was still, not necessarily mad at you, but disappointed that you hadn’t told him of your early departure. You were also acutely aware of his fear for you being in a foreign country all alone. You were positive that if it hadn’t been for the sudden announcement of your leaving, then he would have tried much harder to convince you and One to let him arrive with you. Of course, deep down you knew that despite Four’s protective nature, he understood why he was unable to arrive with you, or with the others. But it didn’t stop him from disliking the plan any less.

The driver watches as you put your phone away and takes this time to engage you in the typical taxi, passenger chit chat. “Parlez-vous français?” He enquires, and it takes you a moment to comprehend what he had asked. You had a slight knowledge of the French language, but it was very, very basic.

“No sorry, I don’t speak French.” You offer with a half smile, shrugging lightly as you turn your attention to the scenery blurring past you.

“Ah, a tourist then. Here for a vacation, are you? He continues, drumming his fingers along the steering wheel as he changes lanes in what would be considered a highly illegal maneuver literally anywhere else in the World.

Deciding that if you looked out the window any longer you may become motion sick, you turn your focus to staring directly at the back of the drivers head. “Mhm, I’ve always wanted to visit, go snorkelling, maybe go for a ride on one of those glass bottom boats? Who knows!” You ramble on, though nothing you say is quite a lie. In truth, you had always wanted to visit Noumea, and were supposed to when you were thirteen. You were supposed to go on a cruise to the South Pacific Islands as a birthday present, however that never quite happened. You suppose in the long run, it’s a good thing you never came here as a child, if you had, then this mission may not be going ahead. Or at least not with you at the helm.

“My cousin owns a glass bottom boat, he runs tours every day. Here, take this card, it has his details.” He pulls a crinkled business card out of his shirt pocket, and passes it back to you. You take it graciously, taking a moment to read over it before stowing it away in your bag.

“Thank you.”

As you drive through the city, the driver points out the occasional tourist attraction, to which you nod and play along with the façade you had created. Most things he says go in one ear then out the other, but there is one which catches your attention. “Over the is the hospital. Might be good to know where that is just in case.” He offers with a grin, gesturing to the large building on your left.

Your head whips around to face that direction in an instant, eyes growing wide as you drink in the sight. “That’s the hospital…” You whisper, mouth going dry as you watch the building disappear into the distance behind you.

The rest of the drive is kept in relative silence, mostly on your part. Having finally seen your destination for this mission, it all suddenly felt so real. Inside that building, which should be used for good, were two of the most vile and wicked people you know to exist. They had nearly two weeks left before they met they’re match however, and that thought alone set a chilling grin on your lips.

*****

Once you arrived at the apartment you were faced with a serious problem, a lack of keys to the front door. Surely One should’ve thought of this, he owned the fucking place! “Well that’s just great. Now what?” You hiss to yourself, glaring daggers at the wooden door that currently separated you from your new, temporary home and work space.

Reaching behind, you fish around in your bag in search of your phone. Muttering swears beneath your breath, until finally your fingers clasp onto the cool, smooth device. Scowling at the screen as you scroll through the limited contacts, you press call against One. Standing with your back leaning against the front door, one arm folded across your chest, and your left foot tapping the ground impatiently.

“Don’t tell me you’re already in trouble.” One grumbles after the sixth ring. His words causing your sour mood to only worsen.

“No I am not.” You hiss, lowering your voice to a whisper as you hear voices out on the street.

“What do you need Eight?”

“I want to know how I’m supposed to get into the bloody apartment! There’s not fucking keys!”

There’s a pause on the line for a minute or two, and for the first time ever, you realise that you’ve rendered One, the fearless leader, utterly speechless. “The keys are on the table.” His voice is mumbled, and you barely catch what he says.

“I’m sorry, what was that now?”

One groans, and you can almost picture his frustrated face, perhaps he would even be pinching the bridge of his nose… “I said, the keys are on the table, inside the apartment.”

He sounds disappointed in himself, and rightly so. “Well, that’s helpful isn’t it?”

“Don’t get sassy with me missy.”

“Why not? This is your house isn’t it? Shouldn’t you have a set of keys with you?”

“It’s one of my houses..”

“That doesn’t make this any better.”

“Did you bring your lock pick?”

“Of course I did. The question is, which bag is it in….” You mumble, gazing around at the bags you had discarded by the door.

“I think you know what to do. Good luck kid.” There’s a grin to One’s voice now, and you have half a mind to tell him off for his stupidity, however before you get the chance, the line goes dead.

With a deep sigh, you resign yourself to do the only thing you can, break in. Well technically it wasn’t breaking in, not when you were supposed to be living here, though you imagine that logic may not stand up in court if someone were to catch you in the act.

Withing ten minutes, all of your bags lay open on the ground, items of clothing strewn about the place, as you had frantically searched the brown leather pouch which housed your lockpick tools. Upon finding it, you groan at the mess you had made, stuffing everything back in the bags haphazardly, you would deal with the unorganised mess later.

Gazing around, you double then triple check that there is no one around to see you. The voices on the street had long since faded away, leaving only the sounds of birds chirping, and the distant crash of waves. Confident you’re alone, you bow over the door handle, and begin picking the lock. It occurs to you that perhaps this was One’s plan all along. After all, he was the one to provide you with said lock picking kit. You brush that thought off, and return to the task at hand, fiddling with the handle for roughly fifteen minutes until finally you hear a click. “Eureka!” You declare quietly yet triumphantly. The door swings open, and dusty air breezes out past you, causing you to cough and sneeze. Blimey, this place must’ve been closed up for months!

Inside the apartment, you don’t take too long looking around, you’ll have time for that later. You take note of where the master bedroom is, and claim that as yours by dumping your bags atop the bed, and seek out the bathroom. With everything in order as far as you could see, you take your laptop and bring it out into the main living area where what you can only assume is your area has been set up. There are three monitors set up on a large oak desk, which looked wildly out of place in the otherwise, holiday home themed house. The largest sitting in the middle of the desk, with two smaller screens on either side. It’s not a perfect set up, but it will work for what you need, and that’s all that really matters, especially considering most of your work would be done from inside the hospital.

Settling down at the makeshift study desk, you take a final moment to glance around the apartment, spotting a set of what you presume is house keys sitting on the dining table. “Well, at least One was right about where you were.” You mutter quietly, glaring at the object in question.

*****

Infiltrating the hospital database took far longer than you had initially expected. Over the past few weeks, you had made practice runs of worming your way into other systems for different hospitals around the world, however at no point had you thought to test your access to the hospital you actually needed entrance to. “It can’t be any different to any of the others.” You surmise, squinting at the screen before you, elbows propped up on the desk, and chin resting on your interlocked fingers. Truth be told it wasn’t that much different, not in the scheme of things, however someone, and goodness knows who, had made the entire system nearly impenetrable! Key word being nearly. However, if there was one thing you had learned after years of sneaking your way into systems you shouldn’t, it was that no matter how tricky a program may first appear, there is always a way in! And this system was no different.

One pizza delivery and three energy drinks later, the start of a migraine -which was either caused by your frustration, or the copious amounts of caffeine- and you were finally in! The hospital was, in every sense of the word, yours. The possibilities, oh the possibilities! Your first task only took a few moments, scanning through encrypted lists until you came across the one which housed the contact details for all members of staff. The list consisted of the staff members name, followed by their position of work, contact number and email, and finally a next of kin. Truly, this list looked to have been composed specifically for you and your needs. Copying the details you required for a one Mister Frank Sea, and pasting them momentarily into a word document, you move onto your second task. Page upon page you read through, jumping between links and praying that perhaps this time you had found the correct page, you finally make it to the hospital security system. You blame your caffeinated jittery hands for how long it took you to find. Once in the system, you begin changing over a few simple details, nothing too extreme that could potentially be cause for concern if anyone were to see, but the changes you made were imperative to the mission. The contact name for the security recruitment agency remained the same, however you now deleted out the previous phone number, adding in One’s phone number as planned. Finally came task three, which you had been dreading since you woke up this morning. The guilt of what you were about to do had been gnawing at you all week. You weren’t a bad person, not really; you kept telling yourself, hoping that perhaps if you said so enough, it would be true. You feared sending this email would ruin Frank, that it would destroy him… ‘It’s just business.’ You can hear One telling you, his exact words after you had both come up with this plan. “It’s just business, I’m just doing my job. It’s for the greater good.” You whisper, your voice catching in your throat. You don’t give yourself another moment to dwell on things, and instead quickly write up your email on the address you had created specifically for the mission. The email informs Frank of his urgent presence being required in Scotland to discuss the legalities of his and his wife’s separation, and custody of his children. Holding your breath, you hit send, watching impatiently until the message had left your outbox. By the time Frank would arrive in Scotland, the company you had pretended to work for would be closed for three weeks due to renovations. He would have no way of contacting them to find out why his presence was required, and of course try as he might, there was no chance he would receive a reply to any of his emails to you. So for three weeks, he would stick it out at home, arguing with his wife, all while you take over for him at the hospital.

*****

Soft pinks and oranges had begun to coat the evening sky as dusk rolled in, and for the first time in years, Four found himself staring up at the sky, envisioning a future. A future which didn’t involve hurting or killing people, no matter how evil and vile they were. Just a plain, normal future. He didn’t quite know what had brought these thoughts upon him, they were the types of thoughts he had managed to banish into the deepest parts of his mind. In fact, the last time he had thought about a normal life, was shortly after Six had died. They all mourned him of course, but the reality of losing Six had weighed down on him greatly. And for close to three months, Four had seriously considered abandoning the Ghosts, and starting a fresh life far away from them. At the time though, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He couldn’t leave the team. And besides, he had no where to go, and no one to run to. But now? Now was different, he had you. The two of you could run away together, leave the Ghosts, leave this life behind. Start over wherever in the world you wanted you, far away from One and his plans of revenge against those who had wronged the world….

He shook his head, the images of normalcy which had formed in his minds eye, fading away, just as the sun was. He couldn’t leave, not when this was the closest thing to a family he had had since he was a toddler. If there was one thing he knew for sure, you don’t abandon your family. His own parents had taught him that the hard way.

Carefully, Four pushed himself up from where he had been relaxing atop his trailer. His back was stiff after having been laid down for what felt like too long, but he paid it little mind. As he leapt down to the ground, a loud yell echoed throughout base.

“Will somebody answer my phone? I can’t get to it right now!” It was One, yelling at the top of his lungs from god knows where, his voice sounded muffled though.

Next came Five’s screamed reply. “Where are you then?”

“Garage!” One yelled back.

“Coming, I’ll get it!” Four watched as Five went darting across base, kicking up red dust in her haste.

For interests sake, Four made his meandering way towards the garage, just to see what was so urgent about this phone call, and why One couldn’t get it. He strolled in, hands in his pants pockets, and hood drawn over his head. His eyes darting between Five, who was reading from a script scribbled in an old notebook while on the phone, to One who’s feet were sticking out from beneath a silver Audi R8.

“Good afternoon, leader security how may I help you?” Five recited in what was either the worst or perhaps best Dolly Parton imitation Four had ever heard. “Oh sure, you need a new head of security? How soon do you need them to start?” There was a pause, and Four stepped further over to the Audi, titling his head to the left as he lifted a quizzical brow. “Asap? Well where are y’all located?... Oh I see, let me transfer you.”

“You alright down there mate?” Four smirked giving One’s foot a gentle kick.

“Yep, never better. Why do you ask?”

“Well it’s just, you’re only like, ten steps away from your phone… Not sure why you couldn’t get it yourself is all.” He shrugged, folding his arms across his chest, and rocking back on his heels.

One pauses for a few moments, selecting his next words carefully. “I just didn’t want to stop what I was doing midway through.”

Four crouched slightly, peering at the floor creeper One was reclined on beneath the car. One of the wheels had popped off entirely, while another on the same side was horrendously bent out of shape. “You’re stuck aren’t ya?”

“Yes I’m stuck.”

*****

Two hours later, your mobile rings with One’s caller ID flashing, grinning you answer with a bright smile. “Good afternoon, Leader security recruitment how may I help you?” You recite in an overly practiced voice, not that the person on the other end of the line could tell, but it sure made you feel better, knowing you weren’t about to trip over your own words. One had done just as was planned, and upon playing receptionist for the security company, had transferred the call directly to you, and now it was time to get yourself employed.

The female voice on the other end of the line begins speaking frantically, telling you about how the current head of security for her hospital had just left unexpectedly, and that they needed someone to fill in for him until they could find out when he would return.

“Ma’am, it will all be fine, I assure you. Now can you please tell me your company code?” You smile, while typing aimlessly into a word document. So long as the woman on the phone could hear you typing, you would not raise any suspicion, even if all you were typing was smiley faces. “I see, and this is a hospital based in Noumea New Caledonia, is that correct? – Mhm no problems at all. How soon do you require someone to commence?” You type out the few details she tells you which are actually important to you, before returning to the faces. “I will have to see who I have in area who may be able to assist you. One of contractors recently moved to the area I believe for a change of scenery. May I put you on hold and see if I am able to call her?” The moment the woman agrees, you place the call on hold and laugh to yourself. The temptation to have an actual conversation with yourself just to keep the charade up is there, however considering as it had only been a few hours of you living alone, you felt you should at least attempt to keep the bouts of insanity to a minimum for now. “Hello, are you still there?” You ask a few minutes later. “Anastasia Breaker will be available as of tomorrow morning, if you could please forward all details regarding her employment to the following email address, then she will see you in the morning.” The woman is nearly in tears as she thanks you, promising she would send the information within minutes. “Of course, no problems. Have a lovely evening, and once again, thank you for choosing leader security.”

As the phone goes silent, you stand up and stretch, raising your arms above your head. You’d done it, you were in. Or rather Anastasia was in, but no matter who’s name was on the contract, you were the one who would be doing all the work.

*****

For the next few hours, you read through the multiple emails which arrived for Anastasia Breaker, advising you of where to go tomorrow morning, and who you would be meeting upon your arrival. It was nothing too unusual, or anything unexpected, the only downside was that you had been requested to arrive at 6 am. To some that may be ok, normal even. But to you, a perpetual night owl, it felt like torture. After laying out your clothing for the following morning, to allow for a slight sleep in, you lay down in the double bed you had claimed as yours. You knew it would likely end up being shared once the others arrived, but for now, it was all yours. The lights had all been turned out, leaving you in near complete darkness. The only light was that of the shining silver moon, peering down on you through a forest of thick trees. Try as you might however, sleep seemed to escape you. Perhaps it was nerves of tomorrow and your new ‘job’, or maybe it was just the fact you were sleeping in a new bed. No matter the cause, after tossing and turning for nearly an hour, you eventually gave up. Sitting upright, you grab the burner phone off the nightstand, having left it beside you with an alarm on for the morning.

You stare down at the bare screen, so used to your own which was filled with various apps. On this phone however, there was nothing of interest to do. Your thumb hovered over your contacts, and you bite your lower lip in thought. You knew One would be furious if he found out you were using the phone as anything but emergency contacts and an alarm, but at the same time, you found yourself having a rather difficult time caring about him and what he thought while he was so far away. Finally, you press down on the contact, and listen to the phone ring on loudspeaker.

“Hello?” Four’s distinct voice carries through, and you feel a wave of comfort roll over you. His voice alone felt like home, and it almost frightened you to think that, especially considering how brief your relationship had been so far.

“Hey, it’s me.”

“Oh, Oh! I’m sorry love I had no idea. This number isn’t programmed into my phone, I genuinely thought it was a telemarketer or something!” He was rambling, and you could almost see the pale crimson blush which would be creeping up his neck and cheeks, as he too realised, he was rambling.

“It’s totally fine, I’m not really supposed to be calling you. But I needed to hear a friendly voice.”

“Who says you’re not supposed to call?”

“One.”

“Fuck him and his stupid rules!”

“I would really rather not.”

“You know what I mean, you idiot.” You can practically hear his eye roll through his words, and you can’t help but smile at that. At how well you know his mannerisms these days. “How has day one gone? Everything going according to plan?”

You nod, before recalling that he can’t see you. “Yep, things seem to be rather smooth sailing for now. I’ll be starting at the hospital tomorrow morning, and from there I can get everything else set in motion.”

“That’s brilliant, at this rate it’ll all be over before we know it!”

You pause for a moment, resting the phone on the pillow beside your head. “Yeah, I suppose so.”

“What’s wrong hm? You don’t sound convinced?”

Rolling over, you lay flat on your back, staring up at the ceiling. “I suppose I’m just trying to come to terms with how quickly this is all happening, you know? Like, I feel it was just yesterday One announced who the targets were, and now suddenly I’m here? It’s all happening so fast.”

“I know exactly what you mean, I can’t quite wrap my head around it all either. But look at how far we’ve come. How far you’ve come! Remember that day when the targets were announced-“

“You mean the day I ran out of the briefing and nearly killed us both?” You interrupt, smirking slightly at the memory.

“Yes, that day. But look at you now, look at where you are! You’ve changed so much in such a short period of time. You’re far more prepared than any of us here at base are, and for us, this is either our second or third mission! For you, this is your first, and you’re already doing better than any of us could’ve imagined.”

“Do you mean that, or are you just saying it so I stop panicking?”

“I’ve never meant anything more in my life Eight, I promise.”

“Thank you, I – thank you.” You whisper, rolling to your side and looking down at the phone. You sigh deeply, closing your eyes tight before allowing them to slowly open. “Tell me something that no one else in the Ghosts knows about you.”

You hear him chuckle, a deep rumble which you wish you could wrap your arms around him and feel as it flowed through you. “Do you want something to laugh at?”

“Yes, I don’t want to cry tonight. Make it funny.”

Four hums to himself, and you curl around your pillow, cradling the phone near your chest. “Right, here’s one. Bet you didn’t know I have a criminal record as an arsonist!”

He sounds proud of himself, and for the life of you, you can’t fathom why. “You what now?”

“It was my first charge, long before the cops ever figured out I was stealing, which I had been doing for years before this occurred.”

“How long have you been a thief, Four?”

“A long while… But that’s a story for another time. This is about fire lord me!”

You groan, rolling your eyes at the nickname he had given himself, while leaving a mental note to ask him about his past one day, when you weren’t in the middle of a mission.

“I was maybe 15 or 16, and was with this girl who I thought was made of pure heaven. I practically worshiped the ground she walked on, and daydreamed about her all day every day. To her though, I was a kid who was a year or two younger than her, and she just loved the attention, not matter who it came from. I knew she only spent a month with each of her boyfriends, but naive young me thought that maybe I could convince her to be with me forever. Spoiler alert, that didn’t work out. One night I decided to surprise her when she came home from dance lessons, her parents were out of town for the week, and I figured I would make a romantic evening for the two of us, and would allow her to be my first.” He pauses for a moment, as if wanting to see if you wanted to hear where this was going.

“It’s fine Four, just keep telling the story.” You giggle, shaking your head softly at where this was all going.

“Well I got super fancy, ordered takeout because heaven knows I cannot cook, even managed to nick a bottle of champagne from the local liquor store. It was cheap nasty stuff now that I think about it, but at the time, I felt very grown up. I lit candles all over her townhouse, there were some in the kitchen, bathroom, bedrooms and even the kitchen. I think I went through an entire matchbook that night. So finally she gets home, and I’m nervous as hell. Legs jittery, forehead sweaty, and look the exact opposite of sexy like I had hoped for. She’s all smiles, and even thanks me for setting up a lovely evening. After we eat, she steps outside to have a smoke, and I clean up in the kitchen. The next thing I know, she’s shouting from the front door, and then the smoke alarming is blaring throughout the house. I run outside, and find her staring up at the second floor at her bedroom window, where billows of dark smoke are seeping out. Turns out, she had a cat I didn’t know about, and the fucker knocked down one of the candles, it landed near her bedroom curtains, and the flames engulfed pretty much the entire room. Cops and firemen came, shockingly they didn’t believe me when I said it was the cat. And the fact that I had been in her home without her for so long didn’t help my argument either….”

“Oh my goodness, so you were actually innocent? The cat got you a record?” You laugh, pressing your palm to your forehead.

“Yeah yeah, laugh it up. That cat is the reason I don’t do romantic anymore.” He grumbled playfully.

“Aw, and why’s that? Cat got your tongue?!” You chortle, you were definitely borderline tired now, because to you, that was officially the funniest pun in the world.

“Oh dear, oh no…. Eight that was terrible, please never say anything like that again.”

“Aww, come on! It was funny!”

“No love, no it wasn’t.”

There’s no use in arguing the point, you knew you were funny and that was all that mattered. “Fine, I’ll stop with the cat puns especially seeing as you’re not feline it…”

‘You are very annoying, you know that right?”

“Of course, but it’s part of my appeal!”

“Whatever you say. But I do think You need some sleep, because you sound hella tired right now.”

As if on que, a yawn slips from your lips, giving away just how tired you now were. “You may be right.”

“Good night love, good luck tomorrow. I know you’ll be amazing.”

You smile at his words, tracing your finger along the edge of the phone. “Thank you. I’ll see you soon, ok?”

“Ok.”

You end the call, and place the phone back on the nightstand. As you allowed your eyes to drift shut, you can’t help but feel just that little bit more confident that things were going just as they were planned.

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fritae · 3 years

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The Missing Piece - Ch. 13

Anticipation.

gang! au / ceo! au

characters: dabi x f. oc, lov

status: ongoing

read on ao3 here.

---

I let out a deep breath as I walk into my apartment, fanning my cheeks to calm myself.

This, I think with a smile, was a crazy day.

"Rina, is that you?" I hear Aliyah call from her bedroom.

I immediately straighten my face, hoping my cheeks still weren't flushed.

"Al, you're still up?" I put my hair in a scrunchie as I walk into her room. She's sitting on her laptop, reading glasses perched atop her nose. "Yeah, you weren't home when I came. Got worried. You usually get here first."

I rub my neck and lean against her door. "Yeah sorry, I got caught up with work tonight."

She folds her laptop and puts it away. "That's weird. I thought that Dabi guy was chill. It's like 3 am. You getting overtime?"

"Oh Dabi wasn't in today. Me and the others were trying to ensure everything was running smoothly when he comes in," I lie, so I don't have to spend time talking about him. Knowing how much Dabi hates outsiders knowing anything about him, even hearing his name outside of the Blaze somehow makes me feel uncomfortable.

Like I might say something I shouldn't.

Especially after tonight, discovering the things I have.

And what happened in his car just now...

Better to avoid talking about him at all.

Al watches me and shrugs. "Be careful. You're the type to overwork yourself. And that stress will affect your performance. Don't want to make the same mistakes you made at NNTV."

I grimace at the sound of "mistakes." I'm not sure if I'm imagining it, but there's something different in Al's voice.

Al's never criticized me before.

Not seriously, at least.

But her voice sounded almost...bitter.

I shake the thought out of my head. It wasn't a mistake. I was working hard and did what I thought was best for the company.

Even when I advised Mr. Lane to cut ties with the Todorokis. Sure, I was foolish to think he would listen to me.

But that wasn't a mistake.

Him not listening was the mistake.

And it'll bite him in the back one day.

"Right," I force a chuckle out. "How about you? Whatcha doing up so late?"

"Working on the programs for this week," Al sighs. "We're loaded. And Mr. Lane's on everyone's back these days. He's watching us personally.

"Oh?" I come in and sit at the edge of her bed. "Why's that?"

"We went down even further in the ratings. Mr. Lane wants something big. Something the whole country will be talking about."

"The Todoroki special?"

My heart is pounding so fast I fear she can hear it.

Aliyah looks up at me. "How do you know about that?"

"Mr. Lane discussed it with me before I left."

Al nods.

Does that mean they'll be broadcasting it this week?!

Al goes on. "And we're trying something new with The Midnight Show, we're bringing in Shoto Todoroki after the premiere."

My ears perk up immediately. Dabi needs to know this!

"That's good," I do my best to sound nonchalant. "That'll help your ratings a lot."

"I know." Al grins. "I just hope it goes well. Since you left, Mr. Lane's had us backing everything up directly to his computer to ensure everything runs smoothly. Has me going crazy."

An idea pops into my head immediately. Seeing the change in my expression, Aliyah tilts her head quizzically. "Rina?"

I nod. "Right, right." I tell her with a smile. "Hopefully he lays off your back after that. Only a week and the doc will be done with, right?"

Al nods. "Word about the case is spreading. This is the perfect time for us to release it. It'll help loads with the Todoroki's public image."

Hearing Al speak about their public image like this, like it was worth salvaging, like it was right to protect them from answering for their deeds made me sick.

But I merely nod, my mind already thinking up what I had to do next.

I tap my hand against her covers and smile. "Well, rest up Al. You have a long week ahead of you."

"You too," She sighs, leaning back into the sheets. I turn off the lights and close the door behind me.

My phone lights up with a new notification as I head into my room.

1 message from Mr. Dabi -----------------------------------------

Dabi?

He usually doesn't text me this late unless he has urgent instructions for work. I shut the door behind me and climb into bed before opening it.

Dabi: Is this going to be a habit from now on?

Hm.

Me: What is?

I send back.

My phone dings a moment later.

Dabi: You know

Dabi: The hugs

Dabi: The kisses

I blush at that.

Me: Hey

Me: It was just one kiss on the cheek let's calm down

Dabi: I thought you wanted just one hug the other day too and now look at you

Dabi: Can't keep your hands to yourself

I roll my eyes but there's a huge grin on my face.

Me: If it bothers you, I won't do it again, sir.

I giggle when he types back immediately.

Dabi: Who said it bothers me?

Me: Then why ask?

Dabi: At least give a guy a heads up next time

Dabi: Especially if you're gonna run back into your house right after

I bite my lip, typing and erasing - wondering if I should send this next text.

Eventually, I click send.

Me: What else was there to do?

He makes me wait a little longer before replying this time. My heart beats in anticipation. I close my phone, but keep my eye on the screen - waiting for it to light up again.

But he leaves me for a few minutes, until I think he won't reply. Maybe he got busy. Maybe he has nothing else to say. I sigh and put my phone down.

Until another ding has me pulling it back immediately.

But I feel disappointment when I read his reply.

Dabi: Good night, Rina

I think about whether or not I should say good night back. I shake my head and put my phone down again and get under the covers, my mind flooded with thoughts as I stare at the dark screen that sits on my nightstand.

I don't expect it to light up again a minute later but it does.

I reach for it to see what else he sent.

And his reply makes my heart skip a beat.

Dabi: If you stayed you'd have found out.

#dabi #touya todoroki #dabi angst #dabi x oc #dabi fanfic #dabi x female reader #dabi fluff #dabi fic #dabi bnha #dabi headcanons #bnha #mha #bnha fics #lov mha #league of villains #touya fanfic

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snowdice · 4 years

Text

Folds in Paper (Chapter 2: Green Light)[Folds in Time Universe]

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Relationships: Janus/Patton, Remus & Roman, eventual Logan/Virgil (maybe more)

Characters:

Main: Janus, Patton, Remus

Appear: Remy, Emile, Virgil, Logan, Roman

Summary: Janus, a disillusioned senior agent working for the Time Preservation Initiative, struggles to find meaning in a world where time travel could change everything about your life’s history in less than a moment. When time distortions start popping up, threatening the timeline and the fabric of reality as he knows it, it becomes a race against the clock to fix the damage before everything unravels. And the problem with time travel… you never how long you have before the clock strikes 12 and your time is up.

With a partner who has more mysteries in his past than Janus had anticipated and an enigmatic free agent time traveler mucking about time always with a clever pun or a time appropriate pet name on his lips, Janus will need to figure out what went wrong with time, and more importantly, how to fix it.

Notes: Time travel AU, mystery, enemies to lovers, alcohol

“Gatsby believed in the green light, the orgastic future that year by year recedes before us. It eluded us then, but that’s no matter – to-morrow we will run farther, stretch out our arms farther…” (F. Scott Fitzgerald in The Great Gastby)

This is a fic I’ve been writing on study breaks that you have probably all already seen at this point. I’ve slightly edited it for wording and grammar, but not for content from my previous posts. Feel free to send in asks to direct it because I’m not 100% sure where this is going and you can help decide if you feel so inclined! You can see the process I went through to build this at this link.

Part 1

The morning was just as torturous as Janus had expected it would be. He chewed through another pop-tart, this time bothering to actually check and see that it was a cinnamon-sugar one and drank three cups of caffeinated orange juice. Then, he waved his hand through the air and selected the first saved location on his device. He popped up directly behind his desk where he’d been standing the night morning before.

Someone, probably Remus, had shut his integrator down. He swiped a finger across the power button, and it flickered back on, scrolling through its morning start up routine.

The machine scanned through all of the data in the three main system it was connected to and sorted all information into things that concerned him, could concern him, and did not before then sorting the first two categories into order of importance. As it did, he set up his screen reader so he would hopefully not start the day with more of a migraine than he already had. It took about 3 seconds for everything to turn on and settle.

Sitting down in his desk, he dismissed the notification that Remus had finished and submitted the report from their mission the day before, before looking through the next things on his list. A mission had been scheduled for him today, and the details were in his inbox. A piece of time travel technology had been accidently dropped by an archology student in the 1890s during a trip. It was an earlier model of emergency time travel given to time travelers that would dump them back into the Registration Office in the year they originated. It wasn’t extremely dangerous, but could pose some problems, especially if someone who didn’t know what it was activated it.

Surveillance agents had tracked it down and found that it had been picked up by a local and sold. Though no one from that time had known what it was, they had identified that it was made out of a precious metal and it had been crafted into an expensive necklace. Janus and Remus were supposed to retrieve it today. It had been pinpointed that the most opportune time for the extraction was 1923 during a masquerade ball held by those who had bought the necklace. It was a fairly low stakes mission.

He wasn’t set to leave for another couple of hours, so he clicked through the rest of the important notifications and then set off to meet his missions coordinator, Rhi, in her office.

Rhi and Janus got along fairly well. She was a well put together woman who took her job incredibly seriously. It was fair as her job was to organize all information and materials from every other department and make sure the agents she was assigned to got and understood all of it. A mistake from her could lead to an agent’s death or something far worse.

This, of course, made her relationship with Remus… interesting to say the least. Janus could never place whether they were nemesis, frenemies, or mortal enemies, and he doubted he would ever know.

“Okay, but it’s the 1920s America,” Remus was already in her office arguing when Janus arrived. “There were so many gangsters! I could be a gangster. I would make a fantastic gangster! Just give me a gun, a snazzy suit with a white hat, and a buttload of alcohol. I will be running Chicago with Al Capone in five minutes.”

“Al Capone didn’t become a crime boss until 1925 and you are going to 1923,” Rhi said, sounding bored, “you aren’t going to Chicago, and as I have already stated, your cover is already decided.”

“But-”

“It is nonnegotiable, Agent Clockson,” she said firmly. Remus pouted, but seemingly accepted his fate.

“May I come in?” Janus asked.

“Please do,” Rhi said. “You have been to the 1920s before, correct?” she asked Janus.

“Yes ma’am.”

She tapped the screen on her desk in response. “In the last two years?”

“About two months ago,” he responded. She tapped something else.

“Any blacks, reds, or yellows?�� she asked.

“All green.”

“Great. Do you need a refresher course on basic cultural or linguistic procedures?”

“No.”

She pushed one more thing and then swiped the check-in document over to him. He glanced at the report stating he’d had no incidents of any level the last time he visited the 1920s and had opted out of the optional refresher course, and then pressed his finger against the screen to sign it with his fingerprint.

The document returned to her side of the desk automatically. “Okay,” she said swiping another document from her left over to be in front of her. She twisted her wrist to copy it and slid copies to Janus and Remus. “Here are exact details on the time, place, and event you are going to, as well as details about your cover.” Janus scrolled through his quickly. It wasn’t as detailed as some he’d had considering this was a brief in-and-out mission, but he still took care to memorize everything on the page.

As he and Remus read through their things, Rhi got to her feet and turned to the storage compartments behind her desk.

She grabbed out two packages and when they’d both signed that they’d read and understood the paperwork, she slid them across the desk to them. “These have everything you need,” she said. “Clothes, money, and an invitation to the party you’re off to attend. You are to get changed now, have a last check in with costuming to make sure everything is in order, and then report to decontamination in 23 minutes. You’re set to leave in 38 minutes. Any questions?”

“How much-?” Remus started.

“None, agent,” Rhi said.

“But-”

“No alcohol,” Rhi said. “It is the prohibition era in the United States anyway.”

“Like there’s not going to be alcohol at the rich people party,” Remus said sullenly.

She pressed her lips together. “It is an in-and-out mission,” she said to both of them, and then turned to glare at Remus. “Do not get arrested.”

“I don’t know,” Remus said joyfully. “I think I still have room for a 1920s mug shot on my wall.”

“Behave,” she said, “or I’ll report you for the cat you smuggled in from the 1800s.”

“You’d never,” Remus said. “You enjoy the cute pictures of Diesel Fuel I send you every day too much, and you know it!”

“Just… don’t get arrested.” She turned to Janus. “Don’t let him get arrested.”

“I’ll do my best,” Janus promised, standing. “Now come on, Remus, we need to get changed.”

“You just want to see me naked,” Remus replied with a wink, but he did stand.

“If I see you naked one more time in my life Remus, my eyeballs will fall out of their sockets,” Janus said, waving to Rhi as he pulled Remus out of the door.

“Kinky.”

Janus’s eyeballs almost did fall out right then and there with how hard he rolled them.

They got changed quickly, Remus complaining and saying if he couldn’t dress like a gangster, he should at least be allowed to wear a flapper dress. Janus had long ago learned to ignore his ramblings. He did seem enthused about the included mask for the masquerade. It was a silver fox shaped mask with green accents that reminded Janus of the Egyptian God Anubis.

Janus’s own mask, on the other hand, was only designed to take up the left half of his face. It was mostly golden with a black swirled design. Attached to the side, there was a plume of golden tipped white feathers. He had to give it to the costuming department, they did have good taste.

Once they were both dressed, they were poked and prodded by one of the costumers to make sure everything was accurate, fit right, and had been put on correctly.

After that, they went to the decontamination area to have themselves and everything they were taking with them sterilized so they didn’t accidently take any pathogens to the 1920s. They also received an oral vaccination to be sure they didn’t pick up anything from the 1920s and bring it back.

Then they were ready to go. The correct time-space coordinates had already been sent to their timepieces. With a push of a button, they were off.

Want to read more? Click below!

AO3 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

#sanders sides #janus sanders #patton sanders #remus sanders #moceit #analogical #(eventually)#virgil sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #remy sanders #emile sanders #folds in paper #folds in time universe #adriana writes

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cupofteaguk · 4 years

Text

what you want

pairing: jungkook x fem!reader

genre: post breakup au | fluff

warnings: depictions of alcohol consumption

word count: 5k

a/n: taken from “things you said while we were driving” on my old blog

In a way, Jungkook knows you’re on the other side of the line even before he answers the phone. One could argue that it’s because he remembers your strange and cute and endearing habit of always calling him at ungodly hours of the evening for absolutely no reason at all, or how its been a few months since things ended between the two of you and he still jumps at the notification of text messages and still catches glimpses of you on the street.

While all those things are true, he probably knows it’s you because he has yet to change the ringtone on his phone that corresponds to your calls. That way, his action of leaping off the couch and making a dive for his phone is slightly more justified as he slides the answer button and presses the device to his ear. “Hello?” He exclaims breathlessly, cursing himself out just a moment later because he didn’t even think to cover up the eager quality in his tone and probably sounds like he had been waiting around for your call—which he has but you didn’t need to know that.

“Hey! Jungkook!” You exclaim from the other end, a concerning amount of time between his question and your response that he can already feel his eyes narrowing and can already feel a little voice in the back of his head telling him that it doesn’t matter how he reacts to your call.

You’re likely way too drunk at this point to notice.

Jungkook furrows his eyebrows, bringing a finger up to tap at the crease as not just a means to calm himself but also a means to give himself a better handle on the situation. You were never the heavy drinker, especially when the pair of you were dating, so he doesn’t have any sort of default speech or words of caution to throw at you during this kind of specific predicament. From that, the only thing he can properly manage to say back to you is: “Are you drunk?”

A pause. “No of course not!” You shout back over the line and Jungkook sighs because the pieces are just beginning to connect in his mind. You only ever shouted when you were drunk, when your mind and vocal chords couldn’t process the depth or volume of your tone. “Why would I do that?!”

“Y/N, you’re shouting,” He points out, looking down and despite everything, despite the fact that he should really be pissed at you for disrupting his evening, despite the fact that your wellbeing shouldn’t be a priority in his life anymore—he can’t help but allow the corner of his lips to quirk up in the smallest smile. A smile of relief that you’re here and well and talking, a smile of relief that stops the flood of questions from escaping his lips.

Another pause, and he imagines you tilting your head to the side, imagines the drunk gears turning like a wheel over and over again in your mind as you comprehend his words and attempt to adjust your own lifestyle accordingly. “I am?” You return, but your voice has lowered significantly from grand yelling to soft whispering.

Jungkook can’t help it. A noise of laughter escapes from the back of his throat. “You’re insane,” He speaks without an ounce of remorse in his tone as he straightens up and off the floor, continuing to unconsciously cradle the phone against his ear, pressing it closer as if pulled by a desire to hear every curve of your voice. “Though I didn’t know you were the type to drunk dial…”

“M’not drunk dialing,” You point out, your voice still retaining that hushed quality but there’s something different about it, something sensual and vulnerable and it only captures Jungkook’s attention more. “Jungkook, I need you.”

The statement forces Jungkook into an immediate frenzy as he allows himself one second of completely disregard for the situation, for the fact that you were drunk and likely just spewing nonsense, the fact that the pair of you weren’t dating anymore, the fact that it has been months since your last conversation—all thoughts seems to fling itself out of the window. This leaves Jungkook alone in the living room, choking on his words. He swallows thickly because drunk words were sober thoughts, were they not? “Y-You need me,” He repeats back slowly.

You whine at that, a vulnerable noise Jungkook hasn’t heard in so long that it makes his heart tighten slightly in his chest. It’s not a reaction that comes out of need or physical desire, but more so as a deep unconditional sort of longing. He misses you, misses you definitely a lot more than he should be missing an ex-partner but he can’t help it.

“I need you for a ride,” You reply back, the addition of those last three words to that sentence doing little to diminish Jungkook’s attention on your voice. It doesn’t matter that you seem to have only called him for your own personal reason. “Karly dragged’m to this party and I don’t trust anyone else to pick me up.”

“So you need me… to pick you up from a party?” Jungkook echoes, gradually lowering himself onto the couch. He doesn’t know the protocol of open lines of communication between someone who use to (and still does, but people didn’t need to know that) mean the world to him. He doesn’t know if he should be more watchful, more careful, more aware of its hidden implications or if he should take situations like these with a grain of salt.

His genuine cluelessness about relationship norms has come to bite him back in the ass, yet he’s not too sure if it’s a bad thing or a good thing.

However, his restating of your request seems to click something in your mind because you let out a groan. “Oh god,” You say, letting out a big sigh. “I can’t ask you to pick me up.” It’s hard to tell if you’re talking to Jungkook or convincing yourself otherwise.

So Jungkook just leans against the couch, continuing to press the phone against his ear, closing his eyes just enough to the sound of you breathing lightly on the other side because holy shit it feels like lifetimes. “Well, why not?” He asks, lowering his gaze to stare down at his leg, the texture of his jeans. His finger comes out to trace at the denim mindlessly, desperate to keep you on the phone partially because he’s long since forgotten the lapsed sound of your breathing but also because that part of himself that’s always been protective over you longs to ensure your safety.

“You must be busy, right?” You grumble, voice slightly muffled and he imagines you leaning heavily against a wall to maintain your balance. “I don’t want to bother you… I just need to figure out how to get home.”

“N-No, it’s okay,” Jungkook reassures, pushing himself off the couch and already starting to rummage around for the important belongings such as his wallet and his keys. “Do you think you could drop a pin for me? I need to know where you are so I can come get you.”

You hum. “R-Really?” You manage. “You would do that?”

He swallows down the part of himself that almost admits he would do anything for you, not because he fears you retaining that statement but because he knows that speaking the words out loud would mean facing the truth he’s spent months trying to bury away.

So he reaches over to lightly scratch the back of his neck. “Yeah, I mean…” He starts, biting his lip, trying to find the right words that don’t give away too much of his feelings yet can still convey his desire to look after you. “I still care about you.”

He closes his eyes after the words escape, a wave of curses and frenzy and something akin to smashed keyboard lettering piling up in his mind. Fuck, fuck, that was definitely not what he was trying to go for.

Yet on the other side of the phone, you laugh softly and quietly and it sounds more tired than anything else which only gives Jungkook a greater incentive to go out and find you. “You’re too good for me Jungkook. I don’t know how I can return the favor.”

He feels himself practically melting at your words, at your ability to say the right thing without even having to try and it makes him wonder. His mind wanders to where it all went wrong, what happened between the two of you, why he’s here on the other side of the phone line in an apartment that feels much too empty and lonely rather than at that party with you and hearing your voice directly in his ear and not through some hazy reception. Or even better, just spending the time alone within each other’s company—playing video games or watching movies or cooking meals or just anything in general that involved being within each other’s company. Those things, once so common and mundane to the average day-by-day playback of his life, have quickly become his favorite things to reflect upon in his spare time. At least, until the realization of his lingering feelings for you and the fact that a breakup didn’t equate to breaking apart the remnants of his emotional connection.

He simply smiles. “Text me where you are. At least drop a pin.”

“Okay,” You manage and he can practically hear you nodding your head furiously to showcase the depth of how hard you were going to work to ensure that would happen. “I will. I really will.”

The pair of you hang up shortly after, and Jungkook finds himself letting out a breath. He hadn’t realized how nervous he would be at getting to converse with you after so many long months of silence; just a proof of testament to how you still had the full capability of continuously inching yourself underneath his skin.

His phone buzzes, capturing his attention as he reaches the device to his line of sight and sees the text message from you.

from you: [PINNED LOCATION]

from you: did tiowork

from you: jgnkook plaes tell me oyou got htaht

from Jungkook: I got it, just stay where you are okay?

from you: holy sih t did i use tehncaoloy coreectly im ga fucking genius

from you: jungkok guhryy up im tured i mgith

from you: fall sasleep

from Jungkook: DON’T

from you: jungkook ure too godoo for me

from you: what did ideo to derserve you

He pockets his phone after that, because although your messages are more than enough to send him into another burst of uncontrollable emotions, he knows immediately that his absolute first priority is to get to the party before you dropped your guard even more. He can’t even begin to imagine what would happen—his thoughts getting the best of him given that Jungkook doesn’t trust a little more than half of the overall human population and those fragments of alternative realities is what forces his feet to slam on the gas pedal and his eyes to frantically scan back and forth on the street to ensure that he would most definitely not miss the house.

He doesn’t. He gets the house right, and luckily doesn’t need to be double checking his work because not only are there long rows of cars parked along the sidewalk, but also a handful of people are littered outside along the porch. Given the quiet neighbor, their hushed voices make sense, but they’re all holding bottles and cups that leaves little to the imagination. Jungkook parks, steps out of his car, shuffles towards the house and his approaching figure is barely spared a glance as he makes his way up the steps and into the house.

Inside, the conversations are a little louder, a little more rowdy—the laughter is freer, a mixture of different voices are heard ringing down the hallway and the rooms that individuals have gathered in. But none of those things matter to Jungkook. He doesn’t care about the prospect of drinking with strangers, the typically alluring temptation of free alcohol. The only thing he cares about it—!

“Jungkook?” A voice sounds from one of the couches in the empty living room, the familiarity of the tone forcing him to stop completely in his tracks as he whirls around towards the source of the noise. His heart does that painful stuttering thing it always does when he sees you and he can practically feel the desperation and overwhelming swell of emotions erupting throughout his body—like that time you stepped out his bathroom for the first time in his clothes or the first time he woke up next you and saw the golden rays of morning light hitting all the curves and angles of your face. Or one instance post-coitus tangled with one another atop the mattress, deep breath matched into the evening, his fingers and eyes developing an intense fixation on your lips; that was the moment he realized he was in love with you.

And now those emotions seem to be hitting him like a wave the longer he stands there staring at you, taking you in because even though you are curled up on the couch half asleep, you’ve never looked more beautiful and months apart definitely does not change that.

“H-Hey,” Jungkook manages, taking the few steps towards you, quickening his pace slightly when he notices you struggling to sit yourself up on the couch. “Wait, don’t do that, you’ll hurt yourself,” He instructs lightly, kneeling before you yet you still attempt to pull yourself up. You are somehow able to get your arm underneath yourself, using your strength to push your body. Your head almost falls to the side but Jungkook starts forward to hold the side.

Your eyes slowly find his, flickering upwards until they land upon his face and the corner of your lips quirk up in a tired yet gorgeous smile. “Hi Jungkook,” You whisper, your voice that low huskiness that always takes form when you’ve drank too much and yelled too much. He remembers bits and pieces of your drunken facade and knows this particular one to be your tired and exhausted shell. “It’s been awhile.”

You sound significantly less drunk than you had been over the phone, which he takes to be a good sign and that you’ve spent the few minutes it has taken Jungkook to drive from his house to this to sober up and start the process of trying to make yourself as well as you possibly could be in this state.

“I know,” He returns back.

You laugh, a mere exhale through your nose, eyes drifting close for a second before they open again. “This is’not how I wanted you to see me after all this time.”

He smiles softly. “Pretty sure I’ve seen you through worse.” And it’s true. He definitely has. “C’mon, my car is right outside.”

For a second, Jungkook is not entirely sure what to do with his hands. Under normal circumstances he would have no doubts about gathering you in his arms and leading you to his car himself, but these are not normal circumstances so he just settles with bringing a hand down to the curve of your waist.

“Can you stand up for me?”

Keeping both hands on his shoulders, it helps propel you upwards and although you aren’t completely uncoordinated, you still cling to him and Jungkook allows you to lean on him heavily as he holds you close in order to guide you out of the house and down the lawn.

You hum quietly under your breath, eyes fixated downwards to watch your footing. “Do you remember…” You start slowly, the exhaustion from the alcohol starts to eat away at your system. “Do you remember my house… like, where it is?”

“Yeah, yeah I remember where it is,” He answers, slowly open the passenger door and leaning over to help you sit down. You practically slump against on the seat, providing the further fluidity of your bones and muscles, still doing enough in dragging out the sheepish laugh from Jungkook. As if by instinct, he reaches over to tug the seat belt over your frame, crossing over your body to lock the buckle in place. This forces himself closer to you, forces him within such a close proximity to your frame that he can smell the lingering after effects of alcohol fill up his nose. But underneath that, he can still smell your perfume and the lavender scent of your shampoo. He clears his throat. “Uh, you good?”

You nod slowly, gaze unwavering from his face as he pulls away far enough to meet your eyes. You are unwavering, orbs flickering back and forth with a scary intensity that he momentarily questions the level of intoxication you are under. The only way he can know for sure is through the glassy complexion of your eyes.

“What?” He speaks, feeling too self-conscious to ignore the look across your features.

You inhale slowly. “You smell the same.” There is a sense of longing in your voice that Jungkook is almost sure is just the alcohol talking.

Almost.

He takes in a breath. “Y/N, you’re drunk,” He says, not sure if he’s trying to convince himself or you more. “Just try to get some rest, okay?” You look like you’re about to open your mouth to further explain your situation—because a tired you equates to a rambling you—but he pulls back and slams the car door shut without a word.

Not for long though, because he reappears on the driver’s side, sliding into place and sliding the key into the ignition to start the car up.

“Being drunk has nothing to do with how you smell the same,” You note quietly, shifting to stare longingly out of the window.

“Being drunk means everything,” He returns, making sure to keep his grip tight on the steering wheel keep himself focused on the road rather than you. “It means you’ll say something you’ll probably regret in the morning.”

“I highly doubt that,” You say, but he doesn’t believe you. Even when you readjust yourself once more to stare at his side profile. “Jungkook, I missed you,” You start. “So, so, so much.”

Despite his increasing heart rate, he manages a weak laugh. “You’re just saying that because I’m picking you up from a party.”

“No, no, no,” You protest, shaking your head. “Not true. I mean it. I missed you so much.”

That statement forces his mind into a complete 180 rotation as Jungkook is so startled at your confession that his foot accidentally slams down on the gas, forcing the pair of you to dart forward at such a speed that both heads slam against the back of the seats. Jungkook curses loudly, managing a right turn just before the overhead light turns red.

Jungkook’s breathing picks up as he tightens his grip on on the wheel. “Fucking hell—Y/N don’t say things like that!”

“Why not?” You protest, leaning back against the headrest of the seat. Your eyes slide shut and stay closed for a few seconds. “It’s true…” You let out a gentle sigh from between your lips, grumbling something that he can’t make out and Jungkook decides to take advantage of your incoherent nature to just fix the rest of his attention back on the road. Seriously, if you could keep your mouth shut for the next five minutes, he could actually maintain some semblance of his sanity to prevent any further potential accidents.

Luckily, aside from the occasional hum that leaves your lips, you are quiet which allows Jungkook to carefully navigate the streets before finally pulling up to the curbside in front of your apartment complex. The sight definitely brings back memories, but he swallows them down long enough to take himself out of the driver side and make his way back around to your side of the vehicle.

You’re still hunched against the seat when Jungkook opens the door, eyes closed and lips parted and bombarding him with memories of good times, better times, that he almost doesn’t reach him to shake you awake.

Key word: almost.

He leans in to gently grip your shoulder. “Y/N, we’re here.”

You open your eyes just as he’s reaching over to unbuckle your seatbelt, but Jungkook doesn’t get far because just as he’s about to pull back, your hands dart out to grasp at the hem of his jacket. Despite your sleepy facade, your grip is surprisingly strong and it keeps Jungkook within a close distance to your face.

He swallows down his heart threatening to crawl its way out of his throat.

“I’m not… fucking around Jungkook,” You insist. “The months when you’re not with me suck. They really fucking suck and…” You aren’t drunk but you definitely still are battling with the remnants of alcohol clouding your mind and judgment and Jungkook wants you to stop, wants you to put a halt to something you will surely regret in the morning, but he also knows that you would chew him out for continuously trying to interrupt you. Even if it’s for your own personal benefit. You’re funny and stubborn and adorable and endearing in this sense.

Back to reality. He blinks, biting his lip, hoping you cannot hear his rapidly increasing pulse drumming underneath the skin. Rather than put a stop to it, he can’t help himself this time around. He encourages your drunken mind. “What are you trying to say?”

Your gaze dances across his face, eyes still glazed and shimmering underneath the light of the car and the lights from the building behind the pair of you.

Then, without a warning, you lean forward and dust your lips against his.

For a moment, everything seems to leave Jungkook. Everything: from his sanity to his state of mind to the ground behind his feet to his sense of balance and belonging, leaving him alone with his raw and infinite love for you and a desire for more more more. He barely processes the way your hands move up from the hem of his shirt to the collar until you’re luring him in again for another kiss, one a little bit more firm and a little bit more intoxicating.

Jungkook practically whimpers at the kiss, a little noise of desire escaping from the back of his throat, because holy fucking shit, it may just be because he hasn’t kissed anyone over the past few months or maybe just because he hasn’t kissed you that’s making him feel this way, making him realize just how much he really fucking misses you and how perhaps breaking up wasn’t the best idea. For a split second, he longs to forget that you’re drunk, that you’re definitely not in your right state of mind, that you broke up for a valid (unfortunate) reason, that this is wrong. So very absolutely wrong.

Although it hurts every bone in his body, Jungkook has to force himself to turn away and pull back from you. “W-Wait,” He manages, processing the fact that his voice is low from the events that have just happened. His cheeks feel warm and he feels lightheaded, but he forces himself to stay focused on what is the right thing to do and definitely not trying to notice the way you look: from the flushed cheeks to the darkened lips to the distracted eyes. “We shouldn’t do this. It’s not right.”

The light once flickering so hopefully in your gaze dies down at his firm words, as you cast your head downwards in a mixture of utter shame and embarrassment. He can hear the gears turning frantically in your mind, can feel the way your hands pull away from his frame to settle tightly on your lap, can see the way you press your lips together as if you’re trying to keep yourself from saying anything further.

But his eyes widen as you inhale sharply before a heart-wrenching sob tears itself from your throat. Your hand flies up to cover your mouth, but it does little to stop the hiccups and Jungkook can only watch helplessly as you crumble apart right before his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” You admit quietly, such a soft whisper that he almost doesn’t hear you but he does and you are so broken that Jungkook’s own heart cannot be protected as he kneels down with eyes like a deer caught in the headlights. Questions swarm around his mind, desperately trying to figure out what to say because he should have known this would happen. He should have remembered that at the end of the day, after the laughter and the exhaustion have taken their phase in your identity like passage of the moon—it all ends with this. It all ends with the emotional part of you, when the alcohol gets to your head and leaves nothing but a sobbing mess behind over anything and everything. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” You start to ramble, each word broken up by a sharp inhale for air like your tears are drowning you. “I’m so sorry Jungkook, I’m so stupid, I’m so sorry…”

“Hey,” Jungkook starts. “Hey, stop apologizing. Why are you apologizing? Why are you crying?”

The questions do little but prompt further crying as another strangled sob escapes your throat and you turn your head with a refusal to even look in his general direction. Your jaw is clenched together, your hand is still at your mouth as if attempting to muffle your whimpers to little success.

“B-Because,” You stammer, your whole body shaking with the effort to contain the wave of your sufferings. Jungkook’s heart stutters painfully in his chest, sinking down to his stomach, as the words of how this was all his fault ring like a bell in his mind. “Because you probably hate me. You hate me, d-don’t you?”

He scoots a little closer. “No, no, of course I don’t. Y/N, where did you get that idea?”

You shake your head, eyes slamming shut. “H-How could you not hate me? I just kissed you and we’re not even together anymore, we haven’t been together for months and it just hurts so so much because I’m stupid, I’m so stupid…”

“Y/N, take a breath, you have to calm down,” Jungkook speaks gently, bravely reaching over to rest his hand on your knee, attempting to draw soothing patterns over the denim and hoping more than anything that you can feel the warmth and reassurance of his touch against your skin. “You aren’t making any sense. Why would you call yourself stupid?”

You pull your hand away from your mouth and you glare at him through your tears. Your face is bright red and wet with tears, but still so beautiful it really hurts. “Because I’m still in love with you,” You speak, swallowing down your uneven breathes and forcing yourself to make the statement as clearly as possible. “Because I’m still in love with you, and I’ve been trying to get over you this entire time to no luck. A-And I thought going to that dumb party would help me, but I-I guess not because I’m here being an asshole and trying to kiss you even though you hate me…” Your face crumbles and you look like you’re on the verge of tears all over again.

“Y/N,” Jungkook speaks up, leaning forward. “Y/N, please, stop beating yourself up for this. I don’t hate you. I could never hate you—you were the most important person in my life. I mean… you still are.”

You sniff, reaching up to wipe at your nose. “What are you trying to say?”

“I miss you too,” He replies quietly, gazing down for a moment to study the rest of your body. “I miss you so much all the time it hurts. If I had to give up a penny for every time I wanted to call you or text you… well, I’d probably be broke.”

You blink away the layer of tears clouding your vision. “D-Do you mean that?”

“I would never lie to you,” He admits, looking down and gently reaching over to grasp your hand. He runs his thumb over your skin, momentarily basking in the skin-on-skin contact with you.

Your body jolts with the occasional hiccup as you quietly try to let the previous wave of sobbing pass over you. “I’m sorry,” You whisper again. “I probably made a mess of your evening.”

He shakes his head before he even realizes what he’s doing. “No, it’s okay, I’m just glad to see you home safely.”

You look down at your joined hands. “S-Since you miss me, and I miss you,” You start, biting on your lip. “Can we start over?”

He gazes up at you. Every nerve in his body screams YES, because goddamn, it has been too long and he’s sure that if the universe was willing to give the pair of you another chance, you both would do anything and everything to make it work and not fall into those same traps that broke you apart last time. He has wanted a lot of things, but never has badly as this and he wants to hold you tightly and crush you to his chest and inhale your lavender—and yet.

The sinking sensation seems to hit him in that moment that you’re still drunk and under the influence and thus, not in your right state of mind. He doesn’t want to get his hopes up. He doesn’t think he can handle that.

He lets out a sigh. “If you remember this tomorrow,” He says. “Then we can.”

You start fading again as he takes you out of his car and helps you up the stairs to the correct floor of your apartment, helps your roommate in guiding you into your bedroom, and leaves with a prompt ‘just… take care of her, please…’ with such a sad edge to his voice that Karly gives him a sympathetic pat on the back and a request to drive home safely.

He does, but there is a longing in his chest, a doubt, a warning not to expect too much from this situation.

He loves you too much for the disappointment.

The next morning, he wakes up to surprisingly sunny skies, golden rays, and a text.

from you [7,18am]: Since you miss me and I miss you, can we start over?

He doesn’t think he’ll ever get use to your unpredictability, your determination—and for the first time in months, his smile is brighter than the outside.

#bangtan bookclub #bts writing cafe #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #jungkook scenarios #jungkook fluff #bts scenario #bts fluff #bts x reader #traci writes

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liujinhee · 3 years

Text

[Team]

Word Count: 1,403

Summary: When the team goes overboard with their “group chat without Leeteuk” joke, it's gonna take more than a few buttering up attempts from Heechul to get them back in the man's good graces.

After so many years of being around each other, the Super Junior members like to think they have each other figured out. Mostly. Or at the very least, what makes them tick, so they'll never make the mistake of stepping on a landmine.

But there are still times, of course, where they push, stretch, and overstep. Those are the times where they rely on the rest to help patch things up, tightening the seams till they're back to what they were before. It's just unfortunate that none of them are good at dealing with such a situation when it comes to the eldest Jungsoo.

It all begins, as it tends to, with a joke. Harmless teasing on camera, something that can be edited into a highlight clip to increase viewership when the episode airs. That's what they're here for, after all. To promote.

“We can't talk about these things with Teukie hyung around,” Hyukjae is saying, smiling wide. “So we do it in the group chat without him.”

Jungsoo prepares to react to the joke, the same one they've been using throughout their recent show appearances. That's when something slightly different from the norm happens—Heechul joins in, sounding excited. The real kind of excitement, where he's bouncing on his feet, gummy smile a mirror of Hyukjae's.

“Yah, I get exactly what you mean! Like, remember when we wanted to eat jjamppong just before a recording? Teukie would've killed us if he'd known.”

Even more unexpectedly, Hankyung speaks up as well, the words falling from his lips fluently, as it always does when the situation suits him. “Ah, I remember that! It's amazing how we managed to finish all that food within ten minutes.”

As the other members mumble some form of agreement, doubt begins creeping into Jungsoo's mind. The rest shared a memory he doesn't recall in explicit detail. It's not in their style to make a running gag this believable—unless it's not a lie?

He makes a grab for the nearest member, who so happens to be Kyuhyun. “Kyuhyun-ah, give me your phone.”

Kyuhyun just blinks at him, a tiny crease between his brows, and Jungsoo wonders if he sounds as hysterical as he feels. But he's fixated now, and he won't rest till he gets a definite answer. Jungsoo musters his tone of authority and repeats, “Phone, now.”

Someone grabs his arms then, grip loose, and he lets himself be held, remembering that they are still on camera. It's Sungmin. “Hyung, don't worry, we're just playing around. Of course we don't have a group chat without you!”

“Really?”

Sungmin squeezes him, once, sincerity dripping from his voice as he promises, “Really.”

Jungsoo manages to smile, and even crack a few jokes, but unlike the previous times, their reassurance doesn't work its magic, doesn't clear that fog of doubt from his mind. It eats at him even after shooting ends and they're about to go their separate ways till their next schedule, so he sets his eyes on the member he's sure to be able to get an honest answer from.

“Siwon-ah!” Jungsoo calls out, crowding the man into a corner. “What was that all about?”

“What was what about?”

“The group chat!” Jungsoo lowers his voice to a hiss, not wanting to draw unnecessary attention. “I thought it's fake, but the story just now seemed too real. Is there one after all?”

Siwon, bless him, gives Jungsoo a firm pat on his shoulders, looking directly into his eyes as he explains that it is indeed a real story—“Excuse me?”—but that it didn't happen in any group chat. It had been a starving Heechul, a few scheming managers, and other members who were in on the little affair.

“I swear to God that we don't have a group chat without our leader. We would be lost without you.”

Would you really? Jungsoo bites back the urge to ask. They may not have a group chat without him, but they seem to be going behind his back regardless, aren't they?

Leeteuk is an angel, but on some days, Park Jungsoo would knock on the door of his mind, needing an out. This time, he lets it happen; a sporadic decision he makes after careful consideration. Even the leader deserves to be a little petty when he's hurt, doesn't he?

It's two weeks before anyone even notices the man's changed his number, and for the first time, not a single member has access to the new one.

Hyukjae's the first one who opens up their group chat after the filming that seemed so long ago, just to notify the rest of a few things to note for their upcoming dance practice. He's nearly done with his draft when he realises the number of people in the group doesn't add up.

🐵 Wait, who left the group this time?

It’s a few seconds before a reply comes in from Jongwoon.

☁️ Teuk hyung isn’t inside anymore. There’s no notification that he left though?

🐵 Did he change his phone number again?

☁️ No idea, I didn’t hear anything about that.

🐵 Guess I’ll ask the manager to relay the message to him then…

Not thinking much of the relatively common occurrence, Hyukjae relays what he’s originally intended to, and tosses his phone aside, returning to his task at hand. Heechul’s text comes in much later, still blissfully ignorant.

🍒 What did you punks do to Jungsoo this time???

See, the thing is, it’s impossible for any member to avoid another completely. Not when they're a contract bound idol group currently actively performing and filming for their comeback. Let alone when it's the leader who is, for the lack of a better word, brooding.

Jungsoo is undoubtedly a professional in every sense of the word, performing his duties without a hitch at their next group activity, where he so happens to be the host. No one else would've noticed how things are off; the way Jungsoo's smile is a little too bright, his words a little sharper, his posture a little stiffer.

They confirm it when Youngwoon makes an attempt at a jab but is cut off by Jungsoo. It's done smoothly, both parties reacting suitably in a way that it seems intentional, but the message is clear: somehow, somewhere between the two schedules, they've pissed Jungsoo off. Their guard is immediately up, unwilling to take any risks at worsening their situation when they don't have all the facts yet.

Jungsoo, being him, notices the change in his members immediately. Well, good. They can suffer for a bit for once without knowing anything. Meanwhile, he intends to make the most out of the three hour filming.

And he does.

Of course, Donghae brings up the issue the second they arrive back at the waiting room during filming break, as usual too small for a group as large as they are.

“Hey, isn't something awfully wrong with Teuk hyung today?”

“Yeah, he seemed pretty mad somehow,” Kibum agrees with a frown, eyeing the doorknob as if Jungsoo will come barging in with a lecture any second. They all know Jungsoo doesn't take breaks when filming, though. “Should we apologise to him?”

“How can we apologise when we don't even know what we did, if we even did?” Ryeowook points out from the chair he's claimed, a half empty bottle in his hand. He sets it down on the table with just a tad too much force, his next words spoken with a pout. “If anything, we should be asking why he changed his number without telling any of us.”

From where he stands in Ryeowook's blind spot, Kyuhyun rolls his eyes, no doubt remembering the man's wails about the time he called Jungsoo's number to have a stranger pick up. His words seem to have an effect on Siwon, however, the man's eyes widening as he straightens from where he's been leaning against the wall.

“Ah!”

“That's never a good sign,” Shindong mutters, on point as he always is.

“I think I have an idea of what Jungsoo hyung is mad about—…”

“Fuck's sake,” Youngwoon groans after Siwon recounts his previous encounter with Jungsoo. Someone slaps a palm over their forehead. All heads turn to Heechul, who's been tapping away on his phone the entire time.

“What?”

“Fix this.”

“Me? We're all to blame!”

“Yeah, but you started telling the story!”

#sj #sjteam #sj2k

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carmenlire · 6 years

Text

Higher than the Big Trees Ch. 27

First of all, check out this BEAUTIFUL edit for Alec’s single Carousel that the amazing, talented @kindaresilient created <3 :’)

read on ao3

Walking into his loft, Magnus tosses his keys into the bowl he keeps in the foyer for just that purpose. He’s smiling-- has been since he left Alec’s place less than an hour ago.

Toeing off his shoes, he makes his way into his apartment. It’s still early and he goes directly to his french doors where the sunlight is streaming through the windows.

It’s a beautiful day. He feels light. Happy.

He hadn’t been anticipating seeing Alec for a few days, at least. He’d climbed out of bed yesterday at a dastardly early hour and thrown on the closest outfit, intent on going to Uptown, drinking his weight in coffee, and catching up on his work.

What a coincidence that he’d run into Alec. They’d only talked for a few minutes but it’d filled Magnus with warmth, an almost giddy feeling rising in his chest. God, he was so gone over this boy.

He really hadn’t been angling for a dinner invitation but Alec had extended one anyway and Magnus was helpless to resist. He’d spent the better part of the day at Uptown, working and trying to ignore the looks Luke had been casting his way.

Finally, when getting a refill, he’d asked Luke why he was looking at Magnus like he was trying to smuggle the Mona Lisa out of the Louvre.

“We’ve been friends for what, three years,” Luke had asked.

Lips quirking, Magnus had agreed. “That sounds about right.”

“You don’t strike me as particularly shy, Bane.”

“That’s because I’m not.”

“Or cowardly.”

Growing more confused by the second, Magnus had replied, “I try not to be.” Tilting his head, his voice had been dry as he’d slowly asked, “What’s this about, Luke?”

With a piercing look, Luke answered, “How much do you know about Alec?”

Blinking at the change in subject, Magnus’s shoulders had come down instinctively at the safe topic. “I know that he’s kind and intelligent and has a work ethic that most would envy.” Smiling, he adds, “His ass isn’t half bad either.”

Barking out a laugh, Luke nodded to himself like his answer was what he’d been wanting. “So you’re good friends, then?”

Magnus couldn’t stop his wistful look. “I think we’re getting to be great friends, actually.”

More perceptive than Magnus would like, Luke had asked, “But you want to be more?”

Considering, Magnus had stared at him for a minute. He couldn’t forget that Luke was extremely close to Alexander, like family. Was Luke about to warn him off?

“Why,” he’d asked warily.

Shaking his head, Luke muttered under his breath what sounded like, “Dumbasses, the both of you.”

Looking up from the espresso machine, he’d taken one hand, pointing a finger in Magnus’s direction. “All I’m going to say is that if you want something, you should go for it. It’s what you do best and at the rate things are going, you’ll both be dead before one of you gets your shit together.”

Nonplussed, Magnus asked, “What are you talking about?”

Sighing like the weight of the world was on his shoulders, Luke said, “So you’re friends with Alec, right? And you’re getting to know him. But it’s still early yet, Magnus. There’s a lot you don’t know, things that can only come from time and continued familiarity. But I’ll tell you one thing.”

He leans closer and Magnus echoes the action, feels ridiculous as he does so.

“Alec is a good man but he’s an expert at denying himself. The media likes to paint him as a playboy with more fluff than sense in his head. They’re dead wrong.” Before Magnus can agree, Luke continues. “He’s hyper-aware of his reputation and knows better than anyone that it’s as much curse as blessing. He’d never do anything to push that onto someone else.”

“Okay,” Magnus drawls out, trying to piece the obvious hidden meaning behind Luke’s words together.

Looking impatient, Luke says, “All I’ll say is that if you like Alec-- in any way-- you should tell him because he’ll never tell you first. He wouldn’t want to put you in an awkward position. That boy has the tragic and extremely annoying habit of backing away just when things mean the most.”

Unable to ignore Luke’s pointed emphasis, Magnus finally starts getting the picture. Hope blooms in his chest as his mind reels.

Luke knows Alec. Is he saying that Magnus’s feelings aren’t unrequited?

Thoughts preoccupied, he’d absently offered his thanks as Luke had handed him his drink. He’d walked over to his table, sitting down heavily and taking a sip.

The rest of the afternoon had passed in a blur. He hadn’t gotten any more work done, too busy thinking over the past few weeks. He could see where things may have meant more than either of them had said, could feel hope cling stubbornly.

He’d left Uptown Java resolved. Luke was right. He was Magnus Bane and he’d never hesitated a day in his life, not when he wanted something. He’d let Alec into his head and forgotten just who he was. After a quick stop home to drop his bag and freshen up, he'd left again shortly. Following his phone’s GPS he’d gone over to Alec’s, making a note to catalog anything that seemed more than just friends.

Magnus couldn’t deny that it felt good to know that he was the only one Alec had ever invited over, the only person he’d trusted enough to give his address to, to let in to his private sanctuary. It was a heady feeling.

He could listen to Alec talk for hours, about the piano or obscure German philosophers or how to make spaghetti. The man was endlessly interesting and his celebrity was the least of it.

He couldn’t help himself from asking a leading question, affecting a casual tone even as his heart had thudded almost painfully in anticipation.

And that’s what I am? A friend?

Alec’s startled look had been adorable and Magnus’s heart had turned over, that damned hope igniting further when he’d heard his answer.

As long as that’s what you want.

He couldn’t help but read more into that careful response.

Later in the evening, when he’d finally just said an internal fuck it, he’d been sure. He was no longer afraid that Alec would see him as just another fan, a leech onto his fame. They were friends and that foundation grounded Magnus.

Alec’s reaction to his not-so-innocent question had been enthralling. The rush of heat to his cheeks, his stunned expression, the way those beautiful eyes had darkened when he’d registered the connotations.

Magnus had felt a wave of overwhelming heat lick up his spine as Alec had strolled over to him, bringing arms up to surround Magnus with his strength and scent and feel.

He’d been breathless before they’d even kissed and what a kiss it had been.

No doubt about it, yesterday had been eventful. Magnus’s smile widens as he realizes that it’s already seared onto his memory. Whatever happens with Alec, its beginning was perfect.

Turning away from his balcony, Magnus pulls out his phone, notes absently that it’s almost dead. As he unlocks it, he sees dozens of notifications.

Shaking his head a little, he’s surprised at himself all over again that he’d suggested they try to fuck with the press. In the back of his head, he knows that they don’t stand a chance but he thinks that he’s finally accepting that it’s okay. He’ll shoulder whatever happens as long as he has Alec to guide him.

His follower count on Twitter has increased by another hundred and he taps on create tweet without pause.

I think my new favorite food is spaghetti.

He hits send, wry twist to his mouth.

He’s almost thirty but he’s had this account for years. It’s an eclectic mix of mini history lectures, obscure observations, and whatever else catches his eye. A random declaration of food isn’t out of the normal for him, though he wonders if Alec will see it-- and what he’ll have to say about it.

Moving over to Instagram, he sees that his follow count has almost doubled in the past week.

He goes to Alec’s profile and sees that there are several hundred comments on the wine glass picture from last night. Tapping on the post, he scrolls through a few, brows raising higher at each comment.

Omg who do you think he’s with??!!

I bet he’s with his new “friend”.........

Dude he has to be so into this guy. Alec Lightwood doesn’t stay in for just anyone

This looks so domestic. Do yall think he has a secret bf??

There are a few spare mentions of him, but mostly people seems to be speculating in general. He has a handful of notifications from Twitter after just a couple of minutes. When he reopens the app, he sees that there are already a dozen likes on his spaghetti tweet with a few comments. He can’t help but notice that all of the usernames-- he rolls his eyes, except one-- has a reference to Alec.

Fkjfhgksjdf I bet he drank WINE with that spaghetti.

Tbh any food would be my favorite if I was with Alec.

No one cares.

That last comment is from Raphael and Magnus knows that his friend isn’t stupid. They hadn’t met since Raphael had seen them together at Columbia’s diner-- between work and Magnus going to London, there’d been no time.

Tomorrow was going to be interesting, to say the least. Undoubtedly, Raphael had already told Cat and Ragnor what he’d seen on campus. With a sigh, Magnus knows that he’ll be walking into an inquisition at family dinner tomorrow.

He locks his phone and goes into the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of water. Drinking half of it right then and there, he heads to his bedroom, plugging his phone into his charger.

That done, he strips, throwing his clothes into the hamper before padding into his bathroom.

He takes a quick shower, throwing on a clean pair of sweats and crashing onto the couch half an hour later. He spends the rest of the day working. He grades discussion posts and enters grades online, catching up on his emails, too.

It’s hours later, early in the afternoon, when he stands up, stretching his back with arms overhead.

He retrieves his phone and sees a text from Alec.

My driver will pick you up at seven. You don’t have any allergies, right?

With a smile he knows is too fond, Magnus replies, Seven sounds perfect. Will you be in the car, too, darling?

And no, I’m not allergic to anything.

He doesn’t even have time to put his phone down when it lights up with another text.

I’ll meet you there. There was an issue with my schedule and I’m working with my team to smooth things out.

I can’t wait to see you tonight.

Biting his lip, trying to keep the smile from becoming a grin, Magnus just texts, I hope everything works out. I’m excited, too.

Looking at the nearest clock, he sees that he has a few hours before it’s time for dinner. He throws on a pair of tennis shoes, deciding to go for a run.

The next hour flies by. He has a route he follows in the city that’s a mix of sidewalks and park paths and as his shoes slap against pavement, Magnus’s mind is distracted. He wonders about tonight-- where is Alec taking him. He puts together and promptly discards a dozen outfits as the city blurs together.

When he finishes his run, he comes to a stop in front of his apartment building, breathing harshly with hands at his hips.

After a few minutes, he heads inside, taking the elevator to his loft. He goes directly to his balcony, grabbing the yoga mat he keeps by the door. He spends the next little while emptying his mind, going through poses on autopilot as he relaxes and cools down.

Finishing his workout for the day, Magnus feels clear, free in a way he hadn’t managed since before the UK-- traveling was hell on his workouts.

He hops into the shower, taking his time and using all of his favorite products. He brushes his teeth, padding into his closet wrapped in just a towel. Going through his clothes, he gives each article a considering look. He finally decides on an outfit that could work anywhere except Burger King and moves to his vanity where he applies makeup and styles his hair.

When he finishes, he moves to his floor length mirror, gives himself a thorough onceover. He looks good. Sharp, elegant.

He’s ready for this date, can feel the thrum of anticipation wind its way through him. As far as first dates go, this one is almost guaranteed to go well and that takes a lot of the pressure off. He’s not worried about making small talk or gauging interest. Really, it feels like any other time he’s seen Alec except for the knowledge that they’re both ready for this next stage, for more.

He puts his watch on, seeing that he has just a few minutes until he’s due to be picked up. He’s wondering how he’s supposed to know that the car is here when his cell rings.

“Hello,” he asks, picking it up.

“Good evening. Is this Mr. Bane?”

“It is,” Magnus says, curious.

“Hello, Mr. Bane. This is Dave, Alec’s driver. I hope you don’t mind, but he gave me your number. I wanted to let you know that I’m downstairs.”

“I’ll be right down,” Magnus says. They say goodbye, hanging up and Magnus raises a brow, thinks to himself, We’re not in Kansas anymore.

With a last minute to make sure he has his wallet, keys, and phone, Magnus leaves his apartment. He sees a car pulled in front and as he walks outside, sees who is presumably Dave standing near the back door.

“Mr. Bane?”

Smiling warmly, he says, “Magnus is just fine. Dave right?”

Dave smiles as he opens the door, gesturing Magnus inside. ‘That’s right. Are you ready for your date tonight?”

Chuckling, Magnus replies, “More than ready.”

He climbs into the backseat of the late model Lincoln town car and can’t help but marvel at the ride. Rationally, he knew that Alec had money-- he’d be a fucking fool not to-- but it’s quite another thing to experience a uniformed driver picking him up in a hundred thousand dollar car.

It’s a smooth ride and only takes twenty or so minutes before they’re pulling up to a restaurant that Magnus has never been to. Dave shifts into park, comes around and opens the door for Magnus.

Magnus gets out, shooting an appreciative look to the driver. “Thank you, Dave.”

Dave tilts his head, grinning. “Sure thing, Magnus. Alec is probably already inside but just in case he isn’t here yet, I’m to tell you that the reservation is under Lightwood.”

With a murmured thanks, Magnus nods and turns toward the front doors where a doorman is standing at attention. As he starts walking, the doorman smoothly opens the door, carefully expressionless.

Going through the doors, Magnus takes in the interior. The light is muted and the decor is dusted in dark wood and gold accents. It’s timeless, sophisticated, and while Magnus is well-traveled, he can’t help but feel the slightest bit out of place, a touch gauche. He heads to the maitre d, who looks up with a warm smile at his approach.

“Good evening, sir. Do you have a reservation with us?”

Returning that smile, Magnus answers, “Yes, I believe it’s under Lightwood?”

Like a magic word, the man straightens, eyes widening. His smile-- already friendly-- turns up a notch as he looks at Magnus, a little stunned.

“Of course, sir. Follow me, please.”

Magnus follows the host to a table in the corner. There’s already a bottle of wine breathing on the table as he’s guided to his chair. He takes a seat and a second later, a waiter is heading over to his table.

He’s given a menu and as he scans it over, he sees that it’s contemporary American fare.

The waiter pours a glass of the wine and with a smile, leaves him to his own devices. He has barely enough time to finish reading the appetizers when from his periphery he sees a figure walking towards him.

“Sorry I’m late,” Alec says, hurried. “Traffic from Manhattan was obnoxiously busy.”

“It is New York City on a Saturday night, Alexander,” Magnus teases.

Alec just rolls his eyes before giving Magnus a warm, slightly stunned look. He clears his throat. “You look great.”

Smiling, Magnus replies, “No need to sound so surprised. You sound like I regularly look like a vagabond roaming the countryside.”

Magnus works to muffle his laugh as he watches Alec’s face grow slightly panicked. That laughter turns to liquid affection when Alec reaches out, seemingly on autopilot, covering Magnus’s hand in a supposed gesture of reassurance. “Of course not. I didn’t mean anything like that. You-- you always looks amazing, but tonight-- wow,” Alec breathes, coming to an abrupt end.

Magnus flips his hand, interlacing their fingers. “Wow yourself, darling.”

Alec’s wearing a crisp, snowy white button down with an open throat, paired simply with black slacks. His hair is going every which way and he looks good enough to eat.

The two of them are gazing at each other, surroundings disappearing into the background, when their attention is snagged by a clearing throat.

Both of them snap their heads up and see the waiter standing at their table, menu in hand. Alec takes the proffered menu with his free hand, not letting go of Magnus.

“Gentlemen,” the waiter starts.

“Hey, Jeff, how’s it going man?”

Breaking his perfect posture, the waiter grins. To Magnus’s amused surprise, Alec and Jeff share a fist bump.

“Hey, Mr. Lightwood. I’m good. Graduated from high school a few few months ago and I’m taking classes at Tri-C while I work here.”

Settling back, Alec asks, “Major?”

“English Lit,” Jeff says, looking excited.

“Well, I’m happy for you, man, you’ve always loved obscure seventeenth century novels.” With a look at Magnus, Alec introduces them. “Jeff, I’d like you to meet Magnus. My boyfriend,” he adds, smile softening at the designation.

Jeff looks happy and holds out a hand for, presumably, Magnus to fist bump. Which he does with alacrity. “Nice to meet you, Jeff.”

Alec looks between the two of them, grinning and looking more at ease than Magnus thinks he’s ever seen him. “I’ve known Jeff since he was a snot-nosed middle schooler. His brother and I went to high school together and when Joey-- the brother-- told me that he was opening a restaurant, I invested in it. I come in here every few months, whenever I’m in town and it just keeps getting better. The food is to die for.”

Shaking his head, Jeff looks pleased at Alec’s effusive praise. “We do the best we can,” he says modestly.

“Well, I can’t wait to eat, then,” Magnus says.

Jeff goes over the specials before leaving them to look at the menu. Magnus tries to concentrate on the entrees but he’s too aware of eyes on him.

“Alexander, I’m not on the menu,” Magnus says cheekily, not looking up.

“Too bad,” Alec says, unrepentant at getting caught staring. “You look good enough to eat.”

Lips quirking, Magnus shoots him a look. “Funny, I thought the same thing about you earlier.”

Their looks are more heated this time around and Magnus is hopelessly caught in Alec’s gaze. He can’t help but wonder at how easy things are between them. He’s never been such good friends with a date before. He doesn’t know if that’s the reason why they’re so comfortable with each other, but whatever it is, he’s glad for it.

He can admit privately that he’s never felt like this before. It’s an enthralling mix of interest and desire, all of it overlaid with warmth-- it’s almost too sweet but Magnus can’t get enough.

He doesn’t know how, but the two of them manage to cobble together an order, without seeming to look at the menu for more than a few seconds at a time-- their eyes keep returning to each other-- and once that’s done and the menus are taken away, Alec’s hand returns to Magnus’s.

Distantly, Magnus realizes that they fit together. Alec’s hand is warm in his, a familiar weight already, and the two of them talk about everything and nothing. They pass a couple of hours at the table in the corner. It’s a leisurely meal and by the time dessert rolls around, Magnus is full, feeling light and sated with a combination of good food, excellent wine, and perfect company.

After ordering dessert-- a perfectly American banana split-- Magnus settles back in his seat. His eyes take in Alec sitting across from him. He’s beautiful, Magnus thinks, taking in the way the candlelight dances across sharp cheekbones, a full mouth, the way it casts shadows over a face that looks like it could be carved from marble.

Without thinking, he slides a foot forward until it nudges gently into Alec’s. Alec’s mouth tilts, though he moves, hooking a foot behind Magnus’s ankle.

There have been a handful of silent stretches during this dinner but none of them have felt foreign, strained, like one of them was trying desperately to latch onto a topic. It feels more like an established relationship than a first date.

Magnus has had a question on the tip of his tongue all evening, but it’s only now that he thinks to voice it. “Alec?”

“Yeah?”

Taking another look around, Magnus sees that every table is full. The place is doing great business-- but no one is giving them a second look.

“Not that I’m complaining, but isn’t this a little bold for a couple who’s trying to stay under the radar?”

Alec chuckles before leaning forward. In the meantime, his thumb is sweeping over Magnus’s knuckles. “Jeff and his brother have a strict no-camera policy. Plus, most of these people are wealthy or famous. They don’t want anyone to bother them and they pay the same courtesy to everyone else.”

Nodding, Magnus looks at the dining room with new eyes. Now that he’s looking for it, he can see the signs of wealth-- the flash of a Rolex, suits that probably cost more than Magnus’s rent, a handbag that is definitely from next year’s spring line.

“Interesting,” Magnus says slowly.

Smiling, Alec agrees. “Yeah, interesting. When Joey first had the idea for this place, I was venting about how I was stopped wherever I went. I couldn’t get a burger without the paps tailing me. So, he had the idea to turn this place into a celebrity-friendly establishment.”

Magnus narrows his eyes. “How did he get the clientele for that? I can’t imagine that people in the one percent would flock to a newcomer’s place when he had no reputation or even experience.”

With his free hand, Alec rubs the back of his neck. “Since I was a silent partner, I had a vested interest in the success of the business. I might have put the word out. Joey used to make dinner for the team after games and I knew he could cook. With a little bit of financial help, I knew he’d make it. I just spread the word.”

“Yeah,” Magnus says softly. “You were just looking out after your investment.”

Before Alec can respond, Jeff is placing dessert in the middle of the table, laying down spoons. “Enjoy gentlemen,” he says formally.

Alec and Magnus wait a minute before laughing at the snooty accent. “I hope you don’t mind Jeff. I’ve known him and his family so long that he’s a little more relaxed when he waits on my table.”

Magnus shakes his head. “I don’t mind at all. I like that people don’t cower before you. It speaks well of your character that people-- especially those that know you-- aren’t intimidated or hesitant.”

The two grab their spoons before diving in. It’s good, though that’s mostly because it’s hard to mess up such a simple, traditional dessert. The two of them eat in silence for a minute, enjoying the ice cream and hum of the restaurant before Magnus looks up, gaze zeroing in on the bit of hot fudge smeared on Alec’s mouth.

He debates for a minute, but ultimately Magnus reaches out, thumb sweeping over Alec’s full bottom lip, wiping away the chocolate. Meeting Alec’s eyes, he pops his thumb into his mouth, licking it clean.

Though his expression doesn’t change, he’s smirking internally when Alec looks to stop breathing for a minute, eyes glued to where Magnus’s thumb is still in his mouth.

“Christ,” Alec mutters.

“Something wrong, Alexander?”

Alec glares at him. “You’re a menace.”

“I’m sorry,” Magnus says innocently. “Did you want to walk around with chocolate all over your face?”

Alec tries to maintain his glare but his lips tilt and he’s smothering a laugh behind his hand. “You could have just let me know,” he says dryly.

Grinning, Magnus replies, “And what’s the fun in that?”

The two of them finish dessert and Alec’s signing the check when Magnus realizes he still has something to tell him.

“Alexander?”

Alec doesn’t look up from where he’s presumably calculating the tip. “Yes?”

“How’d that song with Catarina turn out?”

Absently, Alec starts, “Pretty well, actually, I’m recording next week--”

His head snaps up as he looks at Magnus incredulously. “How did you know that? That’s confidential information.”

Arching a brow, Magnus answers, “A little birdie told me.” When Alec’s expression doesn’t change, Magnus adds, “Didn��t I tell you? I’m Madzie’s godfather.”

Alec splutters, getting out, “What?”

“Small world, huh?” Magnus grins. “I’ve known Cat and her husband Ragnor since college-- Ragnor is actually a professor with me at Columbia.”

Falling silent, Magnus gives Alec a moment to process.

“Small world, indeed,” he murmurs a few minutes later. Shaking his head, Alec continues, “What are the chances that the one artist I’ve collaborated with so far is your best friend?” It’s then that Alec covers his face with his hand. From behind his palm, Magnus hears, “Oh God, I ranted to you about how much I loved her and how much she intimidated me.”

Magnus laughs, endeared at Alec’s embarrassment. “Don’t worry, darling, I won’t tell her just how nervous you were about meeting for the first time. Plus, your session went well, right? Nothing to worry about.”

Dropping his hand, Alec looks at him for a moment. “What are the chances,” he repeats.

Magnus doesn’t have an answer, any possible response he could think of vanishing when Alec brings their joined hands up and kisses the back of Magnus’s fingers.

Goddamnit, he thinks absently. I’m falling for you.

The topics move on to discussing other friends as they stand and make their way to the exit.

As they walk through the front door, Alec says, “I was thinking we could walk for a little bit? The park is just a few blocks away and it’s a nice evening. If you’d rather not, though, Dave can be here in a few minutes--”

Magnus gives Alec’s hand one last squeeze before releasing him as they get to the sidewalk. “A walk sounds perfect, Alexander.”

The two of them start walking at a meandering pace. Close, but not too close. Magnus immediately misses Alec’s hand, feels the phantom sensation of where they’d been joined just seconds before.

They talk about inanities as they stroll down the block. Magnus is looking ahead, giving an impassioned diatribe on Dippin’ Dots of all things, when his voice cuts off as he’s whisked into an opening between storefronts.

“Alec, what on earth-- oomph.”

His voice cuts out for the second time as he lands solidly against the brick wall of the alley, immediately surrounded by Alec and being kissed to within an inch of his life.

Everything disappears except for the feeling of Alec’s hands on his waist, the feel of having him so close more intoxicating than the wine they’d drank with dinner.

Magnus loses track, has no idea how many times they break apart for a desperate breath before diving back in. He doesn’t care that the brick is no doubt ruining his silk blend shirt, not when the contrast between the wall behind him and the long line of Alec at his front is so delicious.

His head tilts back, noise escaping him as Alec bites down on the column of his throat. Fuck, right over the mark he’d left last night and Magnus’s hips buck up when he freezes.

Even with his eyes closed, he sees a flash, hears the distinct sound that can only be the shutter of a camera.

He wrenches away. He barely registers Alec’s dazed and confused look before his head is turning to the side where he sees a teenager lowering her phone. Alec follows his stare and freezes, too.

There’s no denying what they’ve been doing. Their breathing is labored, Alec still has one hand wrapped around Magnus, and the back of Alec’s shirt is untucked.

Magnus has no idea what to do. His brain is blank. He can almost hear the chirping of crickets as he tries desperately to grasp onto a thought. Between being so close to Alec just a moment ago and the sudden jarring of the camera, he literally can’t think.

Alec doesn’t look better, though after a moment he shakes his head, frowning. The girl, for her part, looks startled herself.

“Hey,” Alec says easily.

Magnus looks at him, a touch incredulous. Hey?

“Hi,” the girl replies, sounding unsure.

Alec clears his throat, taking a step back and running a hand through his hair. “What’s your name?”

“Carla.”

“Hi, Carla,” Alec says, warm smile on his face. “As you undoubtedly know, I’m Alec. This--” he tilts his head towards Magnus, “Is Magnus. I know the answer is probably pretty obvious, but did you just take a picture of us?”

Carla swallows. “Yeah?”

“What are the chances that I could get you to not post that picture and not to tell anyone about what you saw?”

Narrowing her eyes, Carla replies, “Pretty good, actually.”

Magnus’s brows raise and a quick looks at Alec finds that he looks just as surprised at the easy agreement.

“Really,” Alec asks.

She shrugs. “Really. I was walking when I saw you duck in here and I couldn’t stop from getting a pic. But, like, you’re a person? If you ask me not to do something, I won’t do it. After thinking about it,” she continues sheepishly, “I probably shouldn’t have even come over here in the first place. You’re a celebrity but you deserve your privacy.”

Alec’s shoulders slump in relief. “Thanks, Carla. We really appreciate that. What do you want in return?”

Carla bites her lip before shaking her head. “You don’t have to bribe me not to say anything. I know that you have no reason to trust me but I’m not, like, a crazy fan. I’m not going to blab to the first person I see. Promise.”

This time Alec’s eyes warm with his smile, turning it genuine. “Thank you. It means a lot. That doesn’t mean that I’m not willing to make it worth your while though,” he laughs. “So what can I do for you?”

She hums, narrowing her eyes. “Can I get a photo with you? And an answer to any three questions?”

Alec narrows his eyes right back, giving her a considering look before muttering, “Done.”

“Is Magnus your boyfriend?”

“Yeah,” Alec says easily, shooting him a smile. Magnus can’t help but return it, foolishly.

“Was he who you were talking about at you GMA concert?”

Alec nods. “He was,” he confirms.

Taking a minute to consider, Carla asks her last question. “Will you ever perform Carousel acoustically again?”

Alec barks out a laugh. “You know what,” he says. “I think I just might do that at my next New York show.”

Looking satisfied, Carla hands Magnus her phone. Alec walks over to her, throwing an arm over her shoulders as Magnus takes the picture, getting a few takes so that she has options. When that’s done, Alec turns, leaning down to give her a hug. From where Magnus is standing, it looks like he whispers something to her, though at this distance, he can’t hear it.

A minute later, they’re breaking apart and Magnus hands Carla her phone back. “I took a few,” he says, smiling at the girl.

Carla grins. “Thanks, Magnus. Sorry, again, for interrupting. I promise I won’t say anything." With a last look at both of them, she turns around and walks away without a backwards glance.

Alec and Magnus gravitate to each other, stepping until they’re leaning against each other. Alec wraps an arm around his shoulders as Magnus's goes around his middle.

“What are the chances she was telling the truth?”

Alec hums. “I’d say fifty-fifty. I think she has good intentions, but it might be too juicy for her to keep to herself.” He looks over at Magnus, gives him a considering look. “Are you going to be okay if she does spill the beans?”

Magnus barely thinks about it. He’s tired of the weight of expectation dragging at his heels. Que sera, sera.

He knows what he signed up for and, after all, if he wanted to go out with Alec then he wanted to enjoy it. He didn’t want to be constantly looking over his shoulder for a wayward camera.

“Yeah,” he says. “I think we’ll be okay.”

“Good,” Alec says, voice unimaginably warm.

He takes Magnus’s hands, pulling him out of the alley. It’s dusk now, sun setting, and after just a minute, they enter the park, strolling along meandering paths. In the dark, it’s hard to see anyone and the two of them enjoy the relative anonymity.

Magnus debates but ultimately reaches out and grabs Alec’s hand. Alec shoots him a look, soft smile on his face as he intertwines their fingers.

Biting his lip, Magnus looks away, grinning. So, they’re not subtle. He doesn’t care, can’t, not when it feels so good to hold his boyfriend’s hand.

They continue on the path, taking a pretty damn romantic walk. Magnus can’t help but think that this is the best first date that he’s ever been on. He hopes, quietly yet fervently, that it’s just the first of many.

#httbt #my writing

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whitebear-ofthe-watertribe · 7 years

Text

That Which Holds Us - Chapter 1

Fandom: Miraculous Ladybug (Sequel to A Brand New Dawn)

Pairing(s): Adrien / Marinette, Nino / Alya

Summary: It’s been several months since Ladybug and Chat Noir discovered their true identities. Now that they aren’t trapped by secrets, they can finally be their full selves around each other and have never been closer. Marinette is going into her final year at university, Adrien is exploring new classes and passions, and their friends Alya and Nino seem to be moving towards a happy future together. It all feels like things couldn’t be better.

But of course, nothing in life is quite so perfect.

When Adrien starts having vivid nightmares and visions about his mother, old questions begin to resurface. Will he be able to find the answers, or will these ghosts from the past tear apart the heroes of Paris for good?

Reminder, you can also read / follow this fic at AO3 here, and FF.net here.

Word Count: 6,817

Enjoy!!!

The late August sun beat down upon Paris from a brilliant, cloudless sky. The city was full of bustling noise as its inhabitants tried to take advantage of the last days of Summer. Cars drove with the windows rolled down, blasting upbeat music as they passed. Hordes of people explored the many kiosks, strolled along the river banks, and flew kites in the refreshing breeze that blew through the parks and along the busy streets.

Alya sat perched at a small round patio table of an open-front bistro just off campus. The computer before her displayed the latest article she’d been commissioned to write, and her overflowing notebook and third coffee of the day rested beside it. She tapped her pen on the paper impatiently, trying and failing to find the right words to fill her introduction. Letting out a sigh, she set the pen down and reached up to nudge her glasses onto her forehead. Pressing her fingers against her eyelids, she enjoyed the cool wind that played across the back of her neck, momentarily dispelling the day’s heat.

As she sat there, Alya began taking in some of the chatter of the people surrounding her. A couple of women walking along the sidewalk were gabbing about a dinner party they were planning. A little girl was asking her uncle questions at a neighboring table as he patiently tried to teach her the rules of chess; Alya smiled at the girl’s names for each of the pieces, including “Princess Pony” and calling the pawns “prunes.”

An irritated voice caught Alya’s attention. She curiously peeked through her fingers to see a man around her own age standing in line for the bistro’s counter, clearly in a heated phone discussion.

“No, Mother… Mother I’m fine… No, I’m not moving back home. School’s starting and… Yes, I understand you’re worried, but as I told you last week, I like my job. I mean I’m honestly used to the Akumas at this point! Everyone is!”

‘Ah,’ thought Alya, suddenly realizing what was going on.

It was a familiar discussion that she’d heard a dozen times in recent months. A number of people she went to school with had already left the city in favor of transferring to places where the threat of supervillain attack was a bit less common.

For the people of Paris who’d lived with it for nearly a decade, the Akuma attacks had sort of become standard news. Sure, there were still plenty of people who experienced a thrill of fear every time they heard some bangs and explosions in the distance. However, most folks planned the risk of attack into their daily schedule, much like leaving their house early to account for rush hour traffic. And when friends or family called to check in, it was not unusual for them to insist their loved ones move out of the city at once. Or, at the very least, ask for updates about the escapades of their favorite superheroes and villains.

Alya had always considered herself pretty good at keeping a cool head during attacks; after all, she’d been directly involved in enough of them. She’d had a deep love for superheroes ever since she was little, and the excitement she got from running straight into the heart of battles always overshadowed any fears she might’ve had.

It wasn’t really until Puppet Master’s attack in January – when Marinette had been so badly injured – that she finally started to see these attacks as truly dangerous. And it seemed as though the rest of the city was of the same mind.

Ever since that incident, Paris had been rallying behind their heroes with a new intensity she’d never seen before. To learn that their beloved heroes were not perfectly infallible – that they couldn’t always set everything back to normal after every attack – made them all realize that there was actual risk involved.

There had even been a lot of anger towards the city’s law enforcement and politicians for not doing more to bring this villain to justice. A new chief of police had been appointed, replacing the father of Alya’s old schoolmate, Sabrina Raincomprix. From what she could tell, this new guy – Chief Thomas Benoit – had actually been extremely helpful to Ladybug and Chat Noir. Multiple times, he’d done an amazing job of getting civilians to safety so that the heroes could focus on the Akumas. He’d even contacted Alya about her old Ladyblog, asking her for permission to use it as a civilian hotline and resource in tracking down Hawkmoth himself. The Ladyblog was more popular than it had been in years as people tried to take matters into their own hands and bring the villain to justice.

A soft ding from her computer’s speakers brought Alya out of her contemplation.

Pulling her hands away from her face and repositioning her glasses, she grimaced as she shifted to unstick her thighs from the wooden seat. As much as she loved Summer, she was really ready for some cool Autumn weather. The notification in the corner of her screen told her that Adrien had just sent her a large folder. Clicking on it, her mouth drew into a smile when she saw the page full of picture thumbnails from last week’s camping trip.

Adrien had spent a week and a half earlier that Summer in the American Rocky Mountains, participating in a photo campaign for the prAna company. He’d joined a small team that climbed a handful of the 14ers closest to the city of Denver. When he returned home, he’d brought a huge assortment of backpacking gear for himself and Marinette, and enthusiastically insisted that the four of them go out for a camping weekend before school started up.

Nino and Alya were no strangers to hiking adventures. They both enjoyed traveling regularly for their jobs, and there was no better way to see a new place than to walk it.

By the end of that weekend, though, it was clear that Marinette was a city girl through and through. While she kept a good face about sleeping in tents, carrying heavy loads, and doing business in the woods, all of them could see how relieved she was to be back in urban civilization.

As Alya clicked through the pictures, her smile grew.

Adrien had done amazing work photographing their trip, capturing stunning shots of the wilderness and wildlife they’d encountered, sprinkled with plenty of excellent shots of the four of them. Of course, no small number of pictures featured Marinette as their focus.

Alya snorted affectionately as she clicked through several in a row of Marinette blushing furiously and laughing as she tried to snatch Adrien’s camera away from him.

Her two friends had become next to inseparable in the past months. Alya had the sneaking suspicion that the near-death incident, as horrible as it was, had caused Marinette to finally break out of her comfort zone and take the next step in her relationship with Adrien.

‘Well, at least one good thing came of that horrible time,’ Alya thought.

She and Nino were beyond thrilled about this turn of events; it had been something they’d all be waiting for ever since their years in middle school.

“And speaking of waiting…” Alya muttered under her breath as her eyes flicked down to the clock on her computer screen.

Her friends should have joined her at the restaurant for lunch a while ago, and now they were all officially late.

Frowning slightly, Alya reached under her chair to grab the phone from her purse, preparing to message Nino. She was halfway done with her text when a flash of movement outside the patio gate caught her eye.

Alya looked up to find Nino and Adrien hurrying up the path between tables, looking gently frazzled.

“It’s about time!” Alya called, waving them over. “What’s going on with you two? You look like you’ve just seen –”

“An Akuma?” Nino offered, coming over to her as Adrien scanned the patio. “Well, you’re not wrong.”

“Really?” Alya raised her eyebrows, quickly closing her computer and feeling more awake now than she had from any of her three coffees.

“An attack just started a couple blocks down,” Adrien confirmed. “Where’s Marinette?”

“She hasn’t shown up yet,” Alya replied, shoving her stuff into her bag and leaving payment for her coffee on the table.

Adrien craned his neck to peer up and down the street when they got to the sidewalk.

Alya could hear distant screams and what sounded like a man shouting. She couldn’t quite make his words out.

“I should go look for her,” Adrien said, turning to face Alya and Nino.

Nino smirked at him, nodding in agreement.

“Give us a call when you find her, kay?”

Alya quickly pulled out her phone, opening up her camera and turning on the spot to try and see where exactly the battle was taking place. The commotion sounded like it was getting closer.

“We’ll meet up here when all of this is over, kay?” Adrien called, starting to head off down the street in the opposite direction of the noise.

Nino nodded. “See you in a –”

“LOOK OUT!”

There was a loud humming noise and a flash of bright red.

Suddenly, Alya’s breath was knocked out of her. A sharp pain in her shoulder told her that she’d just been knocked against the restaurant’s stone siding.

Nino had his arms wrapped protectively around her.

Looking over his shoulder, Alya saw Adrien was nowhere to be found. She caught a glimpse of Ladybug swinging around the corner at the end of the block. It looked like she was carrying someone, but before Alya could get a better look, she heard a strained grunt come from Nino. Quickly she pushed him off her and placed her hands on his cheeks to see where he was injured.

“Babe! Are you ok–”

The words died on her tongue as she took a better look at him. It was as if time had been set on fast-forward; where one moment Nino stood there looking perfectly ordinary, the next his hair had turned grey, and he’d grown a bushy beard to match. Wrinkles framed his amber eyes as he looked back at her, worry streaking across his face when he saw her surprise.

“What? What’s happened?!” he exclaimed, his voice coming out a little deeper and hoarser than before.

“Well, I guess this means we know what the Akuma’s powers are.”

Alya ran her fingers through his silver hair, and Nino frowned at her.

“What are you talking – ” Nino stopped dead, staring at his reflection in the window beside her. He let out a yelp as his hands flew to his face. “WHAT THE HELL?!”

“Hun, calm down. You look fine!”

Alya fought hard against the laugh that threatened to burst out, pressing a hand to her lips as she watched her boyfriend closely inspect his new, sagely features.

“I look like my grandfather.”

“Yes,” Alya snorted, unlocking her phone and opening the camera once again as she hurried down the street towards the sounds of the battle. “Well, haven’t you always said that you wanted to grow up to be as suave as him?”

“I mean, I expected it to happen over the course of decades, not seconds!” replied Nino irritably as he finally turned away from his reflection to hurry after her.

“Don’t worry babe, you still rock a beard better than anyone!” Alya shot over her shoulder. “Oh, by the way…”

She spun on her heel and raised her phone up to him. When the sounds of the camera shutter went off, Nino scowled.

“Why?” he grumbled.

“For the Ladyblog!” Alya said brightly, turning around to continue running. “And for your Mom. You know she’s gonna get a huge kick out of this!”

*******

Adrien felt a great lurching in his stomach, and opened his eyes to find himself soaring through the air. Looking around, he discovered that he’d been flung over Ladybug’s shoulder, and she had an arm wrapped securely around his waist. She used her yo-yo to swing around a building’s corner and up onto the rooftops of a block of department stores.

He smiled affectionately at the back of her head, realizing that she’d just saved him from an Akuma’s attack so that he could be sure to fight by her side.

“Sorry to snatch you up like that!” Ladybug called to him. “But we’ve got a monster to stop!”

Coming to a halt, Ladybug made to set him down, but Adrien grinned devilishly and wrapped his arms around her neck so that she had no choice but to hold him up, one hand under his knees, the other supporting his shoulders.

He beamed up at her, and she raised an eyebrow.

“Adrien, what are you –”

“Wooow, Ladybug!” Adrien gushed, fluttering his eyes at her. “You saved me! You’re so cool and strong…”

“Oh for the love of –” Ladybug rolled her eyes and let her arms drop down.

With a whoomph, Adrien sprawled at her feet, flinching to keep his exposed skin from touching the roof’s hot tiles. He let out a bark of laughter as he gazed up at her.

“Wait, nooo!” He reached out to her playfully. “You’re my hero, Ladybug! You’re so pretty and brave and awesome and –”

“And ready to smack you if you keep this up,” Ladybug cut him off, but he could hear the amusement in her voice as she stepped over him and out of his reach. Her cheeks had taken on a shade of red that had nothing to do with the sunburn she’d gotten while camping. “Just transform, you idiot cat.”

“As M’lady commands,” Adrien said, smirking as Plagg emerged from his pocket to hover between the two of them.

“Do you two have to be stupid and lovey-dovey every single time?” he wined.

“Excuse me?” Ladybug scoffed, looking over her shoulder and putting her hands on her hips as Adrien sat up and rested his arms on his knees. “I’m the one trying to act like a professional over here!”

“Seriously?” Plagg drawled. “You’re the one who didn’t have to save the idiot cat’s ass in the first place.”

Adrien nodded stoically.

“He’s got a point. I mean it’s almost like…” He let out a theatrical gasp, his hands flying to his cheeks. “Does the beloved heroine of Paris like me?!”

Ladybug rolled her eyes again and turned back to fully face him. She opened her mouth to retort, but her words were drowned out by a shout of alarm from below.

Forcibly reminded of why they were on the rooftop in the first place, Adrien leapt to his feet and cried, “Plagg, transforme moi!”

Plagg’s final muttering of, “Idiots” faded with the burst of green light that momentarily surged around them, and suddenly Chat Noir stood beside his Lady, flashing her his usual Cheshire grin.

“So, Bugaboo, what exactly are we dealing with?”

“Well…” Ladybug peered over the building’s ledge, and Chat followed her gaze to see a tall, elderly man in a tweed patterned suit and homburg hat walking purposefully along the street.

He held a polished wooden cane in his hand, and Chat’s ears picked up the sharp crack it made with his every step. For all the world, this man could have simply been enjoying an afternoon stroll in the sunshine, except for the fact that his skin was as pale white as parchment paper, and nearly as translucent.

Before either of them could move, the Akuma caught sight of a couple young men hurrying away from him.

There was a loud hum and Chat felt a sort of static pulse shoot through the air as the Akuma spun his cane and brought it against the ground.

CRACK.

Chat Noir gasped as he saw that the two young men suddenly weren’t so young anymore.

“This’ll teach you!” the Akuma cried. “This’ll teach ALL of you! You can’t just throw the Sage away because of old age! Not when everyone else is old, too!”

“From what I can tell, this guy didn’t get a promotion or something because he’s a bit older,” Ladybug said beside him, and Chat looked down at her as she tapped her chin thoughtfully. “If I were to guess, I’d say the Akuma is inside the cane. Thoughts?”

“Makes sense to me,” Chat nodded as she glanced up at him. “That does look like where his power seems to be coming from. Do you have a plan yet?”

“You go low, I go high?” Ladybug suggested.

“Come from behind? I’ll keep his attention,” he offered, shooting her a wink before they both dove in opposite directions.

Chat lithely made his way down the side of the building to land on all fours in the middle of the street, several yards from the Sage. He noticed a few civilians peeking out from behind the shop windows on either side of the street.

“Aren’t you a little old to be acting so childish?” Chat called, standing up and rolling his shoulders. “I mean, I know they say, ‘act the age you feel,’ but this seems a little counter intuitive, dontchya think?”

The Sage turned to face him fully.

“I am really, really tired of children telling me what to do,” he growled, the grip on his cane tightening.

“Um, rude!” Chat scoffed dramatically, catching a glimpse of his Lady making her way along the roof behind the Akuma.

She was holding what seemed to be a large, elaborate kite. He assumed that must be her Lucky Charm.

“I mean, I think I should get a little more credit,” he continued, “for the fact that I know how to file my own taxes, thank you very much.”

Before the Akuma could retort, Ladybug flew off the roof. Holding the kite above her head, she brought it down with a cry of “Take that!” and effectively trapped his arms between the fabric and string.

The Sage, however, twirled the cane between his fingers and caught her ankle in its hook.

Ladybug let out a yelp of surprise and tumbled to the ground.

Chat hurried towards her.

“You ok?”

“The Akuma!” she cried, glancing up.

He spun to see the Akuma throwing the kite trap to the side.

The Sage began to swing his cane over his head, and a hum filled the air again.

Chat let out a battle cry and launched himself forward.

Trying to direct his attack, the Sage turned to follow him, but in a fluid motion, Chat flipped into the air, soaring right over the top of the Sage’s head and snatching the cane out of his hands.

In another swift motion, he snatched up the kite and thrust it firmly back over the Akuma’s head, this time wrapping his arms together with the kite’s string.

“A gift for you, M’lady,” Chat said, moving towards her and offering her a hand, helping her to her feet.

“Aw!” Ladybug gushed, taking the cane with a dazzling smile. “You shouldn’t have, Kitty! It’s not even my birthday.”

“Anything for you, my dear,” Chat swept into a low bow.

Ladybug raised the cane high and brought it down onto her knee, splitting it in half with a loud snap.

As she caught up the dark butterfly and quickly restored the world to its former normalcy, Chat turned and made his way over to the old man sitting on the ground where the Akuma had just stood. The man was gazing around in confusion until he spotted them. A look of understanding flashed across his face.

“I didn’t mean to get so upset,” the man said sadly as Chat helped him stand up. “I was just… angry. The company I helped build said they wanted to replace me with someone younger, and I guess I just…”

“I’m so sorry,” Chat said gently. “It’s not right that they were prepared to just get rid of you like that after all the work you’ve done to get your company where it is today. Is there any way you could still participate in how things are run?”

The man looked at him thoughtfully before shrugging.

“Eh, we’ll see what happens. I’m sure my husband would be thrilled to have me finally considering retirement.”

“I hope you can find a way to transition on good terms,” Chat offered kindly. “Don’t let them bully you into anything, yeah?”

Chuckling, the old man offered Chat a hand and he shook it. “You know, young sir, you’re alright . Thank you for helping me out of that vile darkness.”

“My pleasure, Monsieur. Good luck.”

Ladybug appeared by his shoulder and offered the man his un-Akumatized walking cane, which he took gratefully before turning to go.

“Everything ok?” she asked, looking between the two of them.

“Yeah,” Chat said. “I just… I wish we could help more, sometimes.”

“I know what you mean,” Ladybug said, putting a hand on his shoulder. “But we can’t solve everyone’s problems.”

Just as he heard her earrings give off their tell-tale beep, a small flood of news reporters appeared and quickly approached them, cameras and notepads in hand. A jumble of questions reached Chat Noir’s ears.

Before he could open his mouth to respond, Ladybug had stepped forward to address them.

“Sorry to be rude,” she said kindly but firmly. “But we really must be going!”

The two of them hurried off, launching into the air and soaring over the crowd until they found a secluded corner a couple blocks away.

Detransforming, Adrien looked around to see Marinette catching Tikki out of midair. The angry lines of her camping trip sunburn were made even more apparent under her navy sundress. Where her spotted suit had hidden the worst of it, these thin straps did not.

“Well, at least that was easy,” he said fanning himself in the heat, and she shrugged.

“Too easy,” she muttered, pulling her phone out of her pocket to check the time. “Crap, we totally missed our lunch window. Have you seen Nino and Alya yet?”

“Yeah, they were going to try and get some footage of the fight last I knew.”

Plagg was staring at Adrien pointedly, so he began rummaging in his pockets for cheese.

“Did they say where to meet up?” Tikki asked over the bit of pastry Marinette had just fished out for her. “There’s still a few minutes before you guys have to head back to work.”

“They should be back at the restaurant,” Adrien nodded.

Taking Marinette’s hand, they hurried out onto the street which was once more filled with people going about their business. They wove their way down the block, and rounding the last corner, they heard a familiar voice calling their names. Looking around, he saw Alya waving them over to where she and Nino stood waiting.

“Are you guys ok?” Nino asked, giving them a sweeping look, searching for injuries.

“We’re fine,” Marinette smiled. “I just had to save Adrien’s butt from getting blasted by the Akuma, but other than that…”

“Oh please, you’re the one who fell over.” Adrien exchanged an amused glance with her before turning back to their friends. “Did you get any good footage for the Ladyblog?”

“Ohoho, I did better than that.”

Alya pulled her phone out and Nino let out a huff beside her as she flipped through it to a particular image, holding it out proudly for Adrien and Marinette to see.

“Wait… is that…?!” Marinette gasped and Adrien burst out laughing.

“Man! You got blasted?”

“Ha ha ha,” Nino rolled his eyes, crossing his arms indignantly.

Adrien could tell he was fighting to hide a smile.

“Alya, please send that to me,” he demanded, grinning as he pulled out his own phone. “This is absolutely going to be your new caller ID picture.”

“Done!”

“Dude!?” Nino exclaimed.

“Don’t fight it, babe,” Alya patted Nino gently on the arm. “Do you guys still have any time left to grab a bite?”

“No, I’m sorry,” Marinette wrapped her arms around Alya’s neck apologetically. “I really need to get back to the bakery. The afternoon rush is probably just starting.”

“Shall we raincheck, then?” Nino suggested. “We can figure something out for tomorrow?”

“Sounds good to me,” Marinette smiled, quickly giving both Alya and Nino a peck on the cheek before taking Adrien’s hand. “We’ll have more time to catch up then, anyways.”

They waved goodbye, and Adrien gave her hand an affectionate squeeze as they headed off in the direction of the Dupain-Cheng bakery.

“How long do you work tonight?” he asked, and she shrugged.

“I’m closing.”

“Didn’t you open this morning?” Adrien raised his eyebrows.

“Yeah,” she sighed. “And I closed last night too.”

“Isn’t that a bit much?”

Marinette shrugged again. “That’s what my parents said too. I’m just trying to get in as many hours as I can before school starts, you know?”

“I guess,” Adrien looked at her sideways. “But you look kinda tired. Are you sure you’re not pushing it too hard? I’m pretty sure they expect you to go back to school rested.”

“It’s fine,” Marinette grinned up at him. “Although I think I’m going to skip patrol tonight, if that’s ok?”

“That’s fine, Bugaboo. Are we still going to Master Fu’s tomorrow?”

“Yeah of course,” she nodded. “I have a new shirt for him.”

“Tropical?”

“Always.”

They paused at the top of a set of stairs leading down to the underground subway system.

Adrien leaned down to give her a quick kiss.

“Be sure to get some good sleep tonight, kay?”

“I’ll text you later,” Marinette said, giving his hand a squeeze goodbye as she turned to go.

Adrien watched her walk away, admiring how the sun reflecting off her dark hair made it look exceptionally blue for a moment. He smiled to himself before heading down the stairs to find the train that would take him back to his office.

The remainder of Adrien’s afternoon was filled with video calls and meetings. By the end of the day, he was thoroughly tired of work. He’d barely gotten to see his friends that afternoon, and he’d been counting on spending a little more time with Marinette than just taking down yet another villain.

He stayed late into the evening, though, enjoying how quiet the building got when the day lights had been turned down and most of the people had left. He cherished times like this when he could actually finish things up without interruption.

The moment he left his office, his feet made his mind up for him. He climbed up a few flights of stairs until he emerged onto the roof.

The night sky was lit up with the orangey glow of the city. A warm breeze ruffled his hair as he breathed in the delicious smell coming from a nearby restaurant.

Plagg flew out from Adrien’s shirt pocket and perched on his shoulder.

“So, we’re going to the girls’ place, huh?” he inquired, and Adrien grinned down at him.

“I think the city can survive without a patrol for one night.”

Plagg gave a little whoop of enthusiasm, spiraling off Adrien’s shoulder to loop happily through the air.

“Beautiful cheese, here I come!”

Adrien laughed, amused at how much his catty Kwami had grown to love Marinette. As much as Plagg had tried to hide it, justifying his enthusiasm with the excuse of loving the cheese she always had, Adrien could tell how deep his affection for Marinette ran.

He rolled his shoulders before taking a running leap off the roof’s ledge. In a burst of light, he landed as Chat Noir on a neighboring building and sprinted off in the direction of Marinette and Alya’s apartment, his tail fluttering out behind him.

It only took him several minutes to make his way over the busy roadways and loud street corners where people enjoyed the pleasant evening. Even though the air was cooling off with the absence of the afternoon’s blazing sun, by the time he flipped onto the building across from their apartment, he was feeling uncomfortably hot.

Pausing for a moment, he carefully observed his destination through the living room windows.

Alya was pacing in the kitchen, her phone held between her cheek and shoulder while her hands were occupied with a spoon and a pint of ice cream. She let out a laugh, and from what Chat’s sharp ears could pick up, she was talking to Nino.

He smiled as his eyes slid over to Marinette’s window, which sat open to let in the night air.

She was standing in front of her mirror wearing only some sleep shorts and a sports bra, twisting her arms around uncomfortably to try and reach her back.

Chat tilted his head in confusion until he noticed the bottle of Aloe Vera laying atop the bureau beside her, and suddenly understood what she was trying to do.

Springing across the street, he soared easily through her window. As his boots hit her wooden floor, Marinette let out a yelp and jumped back in surprise.

“What the– ?!” she exclaimed loudly, stumbling into her bureau with a loud crash.

Chat was before her in a swift, fluid movement, one hand catching her around her waist to stop her fall, the other pressed over her mouth.

“Shh!” he hissed, grinning. “Alya is still in the kitchen!”

“Mar?” came Alya’s voice through the door. “Is everything ok?”

Chat widened his eyes imploringly.

“Is everything ok, Princess?” he whispered.

Marinette reached up to pull his hand away from her face with a huff, though he was pleased to note that she held onto it, weaving her fingers between his almost unthinkingly.

“I’m good!” Marinette called out. “Just tripped. No worries!”

“Ok, goodnight Ms. Clumsy!”

Chat noticed the kitchen light shining through the crack under in Marinette’s turn off.

“Goodnight!” Marinette said distractedly over her shoulder, before turning back to him. “What are you doing here?” she asked softly, raising her eyebrows.

“I missed you,” he shrugged.

Marinette let out a dramatic gasp. “Does this mean the beloved hero of Paris likes me?!” she said, making fun of his words from earlier.

Chat was only half successful in stifling his laughter as he dropped his transformation.

Plagg appeared to hover in the air beside them, looking rather expectantly at Marinette.

“Hello Plagg,” Marinette smirked, glancing sideways at him. “Let me guess...”

Stepping away from Adrien, she reached for the insulated lunchbox that held a permanent place on her bookshelf.

“Hello!” came another familiar voice, and Adrien turned around to see Tikki perched on one of Marinette’s bedposts, happily munching on a cookie that was easily twice her size and already halfway gone.

“How’s it going, Tikki?”

Adrien reached over to give her an affectionate pet on the top of her head with his thumb.

“Great,” she chirped. “Marinette was just talking about how she wished she could’ve seen you more today, too.”

“Was she, now?”

He grinned, feeling thoroughly pleased at his decision to come over.

Marinette turned towards him away from Plagg, who was already filling his cheeks with a rather odiferous cheese.

“Yeah, yeah, so I missed you too.”

She returned his smile, though.

He reached out to cup her cheek again, this time leaning in to brush his mouth against hers. He felt her hum happily against him, but as he trailed his hands gently over her shoulders, she broke away and hissed in pain.

“I’m so sorry!” Adrien threw his hands up in alarm. “I totally forgot!”

“No, no!” Marinette gave him an apologetic look, grabbing his hands and holding them tightly. “You’re totally fine!”

“I guess this means minimal cuddling still, huh?”

“Correct,” Marinette said, moving gingerly back in front of the mirror and grabbing the Aloe bottle again. “I’m just glad these burns are finally starting to get better.”

Adrien thought her use of the term “better” must be very loose in this situation. The lines where her normally pale skin met the deep red of sunburn still stood out in high contrast. Now it looked almost worse than before, as the damaged areas were beginning to blister and peel. He really, truly felt sorry for her.

Despite their best efforts to be responsible with the sunblock during their camping trip, they had spent their last afternoon playing in a river, which must’ve washed a lot of it off. But where his, Alya’s, and Nino’s sunburns had already faded into healthy tans, Marinette it seemed would only every transition between the tones of “porcelain ghost” and “cooked lobster,” as Nino had put it. None of their burns even hurt anymore, really. It was only poor Marinette who was stuck with the worst of it.

“I just can’t – reach – this – one – spot!”

Marinette tried and failed once again to reach an elusive point on her back with her fingers covered in the soothing gel.

Adrien chuckled, reaching out to push her arms down.

“Don’t worry, I got your back.”

Marinette gave him a grateful smile and moved away from her mirror over to her desk.

As Adrien quickly stripped out of his work clothes down to a t-shirt and briefs, she switched on a small fan near her window. It slowly started to rotate, pulling the cooler air from outside into the warm room. Adrien sighed in relief, enjoying how the temperature was already beginning to drop.

Tikki and Plagg bid them goodnight (mostly Tikki, as Plagg was still stuffing his mouth with cheese) and flew up to the top of Marinette’s tall bookcase. She had set up a sort of mini pillow fort in the space between the bookcase and the ceiling; it was their Kwami’s favorite place to hide away and get some privacy.

Marinette climbed onto her bed and slumped face down on the mattress, letting out a tired sigh.

“Busy day, huh?” Adrien asked, moving to sit cross-legged beside her and putting a dollop of Aloe on his hands.

“Yep,” Marinette grunted her voice muffled through the pillow before she turned her head to look at him. “I’ve been helping Mom and Dad train the new kid.”

She yawned hugely, and Adrien could tell that she was fading fast now that she’d lain down.

“Edmund, right?” Adrien gently traced the skin of her back with the lotion, feeling how much heat the burn areas were giving off and trying his best to be delicate. “How’s that going?”

“Mmm,” she sighed, reaching out for his free hand and gently tracing the cat tattoo on his forearm, her eyes closing lazily. “It’s going fine. He’s a fast learner and seems to do really well with the customers.”

“Do your parents like him?” he asked, smiling as her warm fingers left tingles on his skin.

“Yeah. I think my Dad is a little disappointed that I won’t be around to help with the decorations as much,” Marinette sighed, “but I’m sure they’ll train him up for all that in no time.”

Adrien reached out to put the lotion bottle on the desk and turned off her lamp light. Stretching out his legs, he laid down on his side, facing her.

“I have a hunch that he’s more disappointed that you’re going to be so wrapped up in your final year that you won’t have as much time with them.”

“Hmm,” Marinette mumbled. “How ‘bout you? How was your day?”

“Eh, fine I guess. The usual. I got all the pictures from our trip edited.”

“I saw those. I wanna hang some of them up.”

“I’ll get you some prints this week.”

“Mmm. Good.”

Her breathing was already slowing to a soft rhythm.

After a moment, Adrien realized she was already asleep. He grinned as he watched her in the soft street light that came in through her curtains, moving his fingers to deftly pull a soft strand of hair from her face and tuck it behind her ear.

“I love you,” he whispered, and closing his eyes, he too let himself drift gently out of consciousness.

He was in some sort of room. He could barely make out the walls in the darkness. There was no hint of a door or windows. Just endless walls and corners, trapping him in a box. He trailed his hands frantically along the paneling, turning this way and that.

There had to be a way out.

There had to be an escape.

And he only knew, with absolute certainty, that he had to escape.

In desperation, he threw his shoulder against one of the walls. He’d rip apart a hole with his bare hands if that’s what it took. Again and again and again, he beat at the dark material. Yes, there! The sound of splintering wood met his ears. It was working!

“Adrien, my love.”

Adrien froze, his heart jumping into his throat. He knew that voice. He hadn’t heard it in nearly a decade, but there was no way he could ever forget. Slowly, hardly daring to believe it, he turned around. There, standing in the middle of the room, illuminated by a strange blue light, was his Mother.

“Mom?”

“Adrien, you can hear me?” Her eyes softened as she smiled and raised her arms, welcoming him in. “Oh honey, I’ve missed you so much.”

Adrien ran towards her, stretching his hand out in front of him, trying desperately to reach her. But she never moved closer. As hard as he tried, his feet were not carrying him across the room. He sprinted with all his might, but she only seemed to be moving further away.

“Mom!” he cried, his voice feeling raw in his throat. “Mom wait!”

“I love you,” she whispered.

“Mom please don’t go! Don’t leave me!"

Adrien’s foot landed on nothingness and he lurched forward. There was no floor. He was falling, down, down, down into the endless darkness.

“I love you, my son.”

Adrien woke up with a gasp, his eyes blowing wide to take in Marinette’s dark room. The fan that sat on her desk slowly turned to blow a soft breeze in his direction.

Beside him, Marinette slept on, her breathing steady, and her lips puckered as she squashed her cheek into her pillow.

Carefully, so as not to wake her, Adrien pushed off the mattress and came to a sitting position, running his hand through his hair. He realized he was trembling. His heart was still pounding from the dream he’d been having moments before. He frowned trying to recall more clearly what had been weaving through his mind.

“It happened again, didn’t it?”

Adrien looked up, just barely making out Plagg peering over the top of the bookshelf, his slitted eyes reflecting the soft golden glow from the lights beyond the window.

Ever since their battle with the Puppet Master, Adrien and Plagg had shared the residual effects of absorbing the Akuma’s dark energy. Things had gotten much better over time, especially when they both spent more time with Marinette and Tikki. But it was not unusual for them to get a violent nightmare every now and then. And when that happened, linked as he and Plagg were, they would always feel the same darkness. It was a burden they shared, but because they were in it together, they could at least offer each other understanding and solidarity.

Adrien frowned. The dream he’d had was far from the normal night terrors. Usually they had something to do with Hawkmoth or some monstrous Akuma. But this dream had been no Akuma, so why…?

‘It’s the anniversary,’ he thought suddenly.

They were approaching the anniversary of when his Mother disappeared from his life nearly a decade ago. He’d had dreams about her before, whenever this time of year came around. He supposed it was just another one like those before, but he still didn’t understand why Plagg would have sensed anything when it was simply a dream about his Mother.

“What time is it?” Adrien whispered, looking around for Marinette’s clock.

“A couple hours till dawn.”

“Is Tikki asleep?” Adrien whispered.

“Yeah.”

Plagg floated down from the shelf to hover beside him.

“Good. Let’s let them rest. I need to run for a bit. Transforme moi.”

Welcome to the official sequel of 'A Brand New Dawn'!!! You guys, I've been planning this story for about a year now, and let me tell you I am SO FREAKIN EXCITED to finally begin sharing it with you!

Now, if it's not quite clear, TWHU takes place between Chapters 12 and 13 of ABND. I really wanted to have fun exploring our dorks' relationship while it was still a bit new during that missing year, plus there's a lot I wanted to address regarding... *ahem* other things in the Miraculous universe ;}

As far as this fic goes, I currently have a whopping 16 pages of this story outlined chapter-by-chapter, with several different conclusions I have yet to decide on (but as with ABND, I'm pretty sure the right ending will present itself as I work through the story) so we'll see how that goes. I will try and update fairly regularly, but there's this pesky thing called a "day job" that I am pouring most of my energy into, as well as commissions and other aspects of a busy life, so please forgive any hiatus-type moments in advance! Just know that I'm fully committed to sharing this whole story, and with some much appreciated patience from you all, TWHU will get done eventually!!!

Thank you everyone who supported ABND and took the time to send in comments! Without you guys, I never would've gotten this far! This one is for you <3

#a brand new dawn fic #miraculous ladybug #ml fic #chat noir #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #alya cesaire #nino lahiffe #ladynoir #marichat #ladrien #adrinette #adrienette #djwifi #carapce #rena rouge #abnd #twhu #college au

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onesandzcros · 5 years

Text

reflection.

It was the middle of freshman year, and Tara’s fingers messed with a few strands of long hair as she sat in literature class, waiting for the period to come to an end. When the bell finally rang for recess, she got up and stretched, easily picked out in a fitted t-shirt and blue jeans. It meant that when Alyson came to find her, she grinned easily. “Hey, see you made it through without falling asleep. Thought I was going to have to throw something at you.”

Alyson’s expression then was one of wounded dignity with mischief hidden behind. “It was pretty damn close. Hope that not all of high school literature classes will be like this.” That was when she made a face. “Gym class after this, ugh. Why is it mandatory and where can I hide until it goes away?”

Tara’s stomach plummeted. The school’s changing rooms were a nightmare, enough to make her anxious, palms sweating as she tried to change with her back turned away from everyone, t-shirt moved to cover her front. Rather than highlight that, though, she shrugged and walked alongside Alyson, pulling a hairband from around her wrist to tie her hair up into a messy ponytail. “Tell me about it. You won’t catch me dead in there. You should just skip with me.”

“I can’t, I’ll get caught, and you’ll get detention.”

I’d rather get detention than be in there. “Guess we’ll find out,” she replied with a smirk, only for her gaze to wander across the quad where the football players were practicing once they left the building. For February, the weather was still incredibly mild and most of the student body were taking advantage of it. Alyson caught the direction of where Tara’s attention was at and chuckled, almost immediately misinterpreted. “You know, I thought some of the others were bad when it came to checking out the football players, but that wasn’t remotely subtle. Who are you looking at?”

Caught, Tara blushed, a rare enough occurrence that it made it look like what it wasn’t: unrequited crush. “No one,” she said quickly. It wasn’t true, but she wasn’t looking over there for the reasons that Alyson probably expected either. It wasn’t about seeing a handsome boy and wanting to be kissed, though that had crossed her mind before. No, instead, it was curiosity; wondering how it felt to move the way that they did, how it would be to live in someone else’s skin just for a little while.

To not look in the mirror and feel strangely distant.

To want to look in the mirror at all.

Spring fling. Of all the stupid dances that the school could come up with, it definitely numbered among the lamer ones. Her mom had been thrilled that she was going, of course, happy to see that she was going to go out and have fun, and had taken her shopping for a dress. Tara hadn’t been able to protest, had endured at least an hour of trying dress after dress until she finally just picked one so that it’d be over. Sarah hadn’t known that it would be a problem, but had given her a measuring glance when her hands had folded over her middle in clear discomfort, hadn’t looked at herself directly in the mirror for too long. “Honey, you know you don’t have to have this one if you don’t like it, right? You look beautiful in all of them.” She hadn’t had the heart to tell her mother that there wasn’t a single dress anywhere that would make her feel okay or less confused, so she’d grinned and talked fast, over-compensated. “No, I love this one, Mom, it’s great and it’s not too expensive.” It was a dark shade of blue in a silky material, flared out at the waist, but no matter what she tried, everything was fitted on the top half, enough to make her want to cross her arms over her chest. Seemingly convinced, her mom had smiled, and Tara exhaled inwardly in relief even as her fingers still plucked uselessly at the skirt of the dress, unable to keep still.

On the day itself, nothing convinced her that she hadn’t made a terrible decision in deciding to go. Sat in a room full of her friends, who were getting dressed, trying to follow make-up tutorials off of YouTube only halfway successfully and curling their hair, Tara felt positively claustrophobic. Why did I agree to do this again? They’d all agreed to get ready together at someone’s house, but she could barely think of putting the dress in the nearby garment bag on, let alone doing her hair and make-up. Roxanne, looking effortlessly gorgeous even with her hair only half-straightened and wearing old sweatpants frowned in her direction. “Hey, did you want the curling iron? I think Jessica had it.” That was when Tara shook herself, reached down to extract her make-up bag. “I’m good, I was just wondering what to do on my eyes,” she said. She hadn’t been wondering any such thing, and it didn’t look like Roxanne believed her either. “You know, you’ve been weird for a few days. Is there something wrong?”

I hate being a girl wasn’t something Tara could say out loud, but the urge was overwhelming. I’m so confused, why am I like this? wasn’t something she could admit to either, because that would mean that she’d have to explain what she was confused about. Instead, she pressed her lips together, shook her head. “Don’t worry, I’ll get over it, probably just PMS or something.” Roxanne nodded sympathetically then, as though that solved it instantly, and then smiled at Tara. “Is there anyone you like who’ll be at the dance tonight? Maybe that’ll take your mind off whatever’s going on. Or is that the problem and you just don’t want to say?”

Please drop it. That was the only thought in Tara’s head. “Promise you won’t tell?” Roxanne leaned in eagerly then. “I like someone, but he’s out of my league. Older, has a girlfriend, the works.” No, she didn’t. She didn’t want to be someone’s girlfriend. What she felt when she looked at boys was confusing. On the one hand, there was the potential of butterflies, but there were also more conflicting signals. Wanting to ask where they got that shirt from so she could get the same. Wanting to be strong enough to throw around a football as casually as they did. Wanting to look like that, strong jaw and tall and broad shoulders. But that wasn’t normal. This, talking about boys as crushes, should be what was normal.

Roxanne had grinned. “Secret’s safe with me. Unless it’s someone from your Glee club, in which case you might want to rethink your options. It’s not, right?” It was no secret how half the school thought of the Glee club, but Tara and Alyson had joined anyway. Tara was quick to deny it anyway, shook her head. “No way,” she said with a laugh.

Was it worse that she lied, or that she didn’t know what was going on with herself well enough to even make an attempt at the truth?

What’s happening to me?

It was past midnight. The dance had been over for hours. Tara was at home, and she was exhausted from dancing, from smiling, from thinking about the boy who had asked her to dance and then for her phone number. She’d had a great time with her friends. Everything was perfect.

Except for her Google search history, stared at and restlessly scrolled through as she lay in bed with the lights out, unable to sleep.

Except for the fact that avoiding being honest with herself was starting to take its toll.

A girl who feels like a boy.

What does it mean if I feel like a boy and still like boys?

Transgender.

Gender dysphoria.

The list went on and had been steadily increasing every night for weeks, until it was the first thing that started to appear in the search history on her phone. Tara had never been able to bring herself to look at the search results for long; it was as difficult as looking in the mirror. Tonight, though, she’d managed to get up the courage to actually click on a couple of links before she froze up and backed out of it, feeling like she was going to itch out of her skin.

Nothing fit. Nothing ever fit. Not the pretty dress exactly her size that had wound up in a crumpled heap in the corner of her bedroom. Not how she felt, as though everything was a terrifying lie, especially her body and the way it said girl. Setting her phone aside on her bedside table, Tara stared up at the ceiling, wrapped arms around her stomach beneath the covers. With relentless, almost bruising fingers, she pressed out the shape of her waist, her hips, and there was no comfort to be found there, only something undeniably missing and lacking. The knowledge that she couldn’t ignore any more: the outside of her didn’t match the inside.

Mirror, mirror on the wall, who’s the fairest of them all?

He wouldn’t have asked you to dance if he’d known you’d rather be wearing a suit than a dress.

I’m so scared.

This wasn’t a fairytale. She cried herself to sleep.

The next day, she woke up far too early and took a listless glance at her phone when she saw the screen lit. A couple texts, one from the boy from last night, one from Alyson, some tags from Instagram. Tara didn’t open any of them. She just swiped away the notifications from the screen and rolled over with it in her hand, her back to her bedroom door, stared at the wall. This had been her Saturday mornings for a while now, and she didn’t really want to think about why staying in bed and not moving until almost midday was the better option than getting up and doing anything. Maintaining the outward appearance of feeling and behaving normally when nothing in her felt that way was exhausting, and occasions like dances just meant Tara had to amplify it until people were sold on the fiction that she was having a good time.

She could hear her mom in the kitchen downstairs, always an early riser, but getting up would mean having to talk about the dance and Tara just couldn’t do it.

Instead, she returned her attention to her phone, and tentatively, she began to tap a different search into it.

How can I make my chest look flat like a boy’s?

Almost immediately, there was a wealth of information suddenly available; websites that showed selections that talked about sports bandages, sports bras, binders, and nervously, she hovered again. I’m just looking. It doesn’t have to mean anything.

That didn’t explain why when Tara eventually exited the house, she got the bus and went to the nearest big department store on her own, without texting any of her friends. No one could know about this.

There hadn’t really been a plan, only a few nervous glances around as she headed for the floor which held all of the men’s clothing. If anyone asked or there were any accidental run-ins, she could just say she was looking for a birthday gift for her dad. No one would be the wiser. No one would guess it meant anything else, they had no reason to.

Strolling through the aisles, Tara’s gaze roamed over t-shirts, pairs of trousers, and it was with a sinking heart that she realised the sizing was a new obstacle to conquer. It meant that all of the t-shirts she casually picked up as though browsing were in a size small, and the pair of jeans grabbed as an afterthought were a guess at best. Thankfully there was only one attendant at the changing rooms when she made her way down to the women’s section, barely paying attention to the fact that Tara had a sports bra that clearly wouldn’t fit for its intended purpose slung over her arm with items from a completely different area.

Tara hated changing rooms, hated the full length mirrors, the unforgiving lighting and the way every flaw seemed magnified. She hadn’t enjoyed dress shopping at all, so that begged the question of why she was putting herself through this instead. Why was it any different?

Confirmed, the sports bra was too tight. But it was meant to be, flattening her chest into something barely there. She could bear the discomfort just to try this out.

The jeans by some miracle were about right, and when she pulled them on, they hung on her legs completely differently to the others that she owned. Shoving her hands in the pockets, the movement felt natural, to have enough room to do that a novelty. It felt good. After debating which t-shirt to choose, she picked up one in a shade of dark red and pulled it over her head. The last touch was to impatiently gather up her hair and shove it out of the way in a hair tie in a knot.

What are you doing?

Her eyes flashed up to the mirror, and the shock of what she saw, however fleetingly, made her suck in a breath and flinch a little.

Without the make-up she’d worn to the dance the night before, her hair looking almost short from a certain angle, chest almost completely flat and the clothes, she could have easily been taken for a boy. But that was exactly the point, wasn’t it?

I feel like me.

It was a revelation. Slowly, uncertainly, Tara smiled with no one there to see.

#( reflection ).#( glee | au ).#( franklyn & terence ).#( self para ).#para

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snowdice · 4 years

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Finding the Time to Study Fic 2 [Day 10]

Here is my starting post for today’s study break stories session. See this post for more details and feel free to send me asks to keep me going! It’s been a lot of fun so far! I will reblog this post with the story as I write them today. I’ll be constantly looking for ideas of times and places for Janus to have missions, so feel free to send in any you can think of at any point!

If you are a new follower or just don’t want all of these posts clogging your dash, please feel free to block the tag “study break stories” as all posts and voting about it will go there. You can still see the finished product of the story even if you are blocking that tag as I will not tag the edited chapters with “study break stories” but with the tag “folds in paper.” See edited chapters below. Chapters 2, 3, 4, and what I have of Chapter 5 are under the cut.

My Masterpost Part 1

I also have a playlist on youtube (because Spotify didn’t have one of the songs I wanted). It’s short, and not really for serious listening, but I had fun with it.

It’s going to be stop and go for most of the night because a lot of things will interrupt me, but I hope to do a good amount of this today.

Chapter 2

The morning was just as torturous as Janus had expected it would be. He chewed through another pop-tart, this time bothering to actually check and see that it was a cinnamon-sugar one and drank three cups of caffeinated orange juice. Then, he waved his hand through the air and selected the 1st saved location on his device. He popped up directly behind his desk where he’d been standing the night morning before.

Someone, probably Remus, had shut his integrator down. He swiped a finger across the power button, and it flickered back on, scrolling through its morning start up routine.

Sitting down in his desk, he dismissed the notification that Remus had finished and submitted the report from their mission the day before.

A mission had been scheduled for him today, and the details were in his inbox. A piece time travel technology had been accidently dropped by an archology student in the 1890s during a trip. It was an earlier model of emergency time travel given to time travels that would dump them back into the Registration Office in the year they originated. It wasn’t extremely dangerous, but could pose some problems, especially if someone who didn’t know what it was activated it.

It was a fairly low stakes mission. He wasn’t set to leave for another couple of hours, so he clicked through the rest of the important notifications and then set off to meet his missions coordinator, Rhi, in her office.

This, of course, made her relationship with Remus… interesting to say the least. Janus could never place whether they were nemesis, frenemies, or mortal enemies, and he doubted he would ever know.

“But-”

“It is nonnegotiable, Agent Clockson,” she said firmly. Remus pouted, but seemingly accepted his fate.

“May I come in?” Janus asked.

“Please do,” Rhi said. “You have been to the 1920s before, correct?” she asked Janus.

“Yes ma’am.”

She tapped the screen on her desk in response. “In the last two years?”

“About two months ago,” he responded. She tapped something else.

“Any blacks, reds, or yellows?” she asked.

“All green.”

“Great. Do you need a refresher course on basic cultural or linguistic procedures?”

“No.”

The document returned to her side of the desk automatically. “Okay,” she said swiping another document from her left over to be in front of her. She twisted her wrist to copy it and slide copies to Janus and Remus. “Here are exact details on the time, place, and event you are going to, as well as details about your cover.” Janus scrolled through his quickly. It wasn’t as detailed as some he’d had considering this was a brief in-and-out missing, but he still took care to memorize everything on the page.