the summer after finishing university in New York, Marinette gets invited to a camping trip with Alya and Nino and his best friend. which, honestly, is for the best. at least she has more time than the four years she's already had to figure out how to reach out to her one-time superhero partner, with whom she fell out of touch after the reveal.
only, it's Adrien Agreste waiting for them on the meeting point, beaming so hard at her that it's blatantly obvious they know each other well. in her panic, what is Marinette supposed to tell Alya and Nino to protect their identites, if not that they used to date?
(fake exes AU x there was only one tent)
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Maedhros and Maglor for @feanorianweek.
Inspired by a scene from my fic, What Fades Away.
Excerpt:
Maitimo swallowed hard. It was disconcerting to be so near one of the Powers. Though he had been taught that the Valar loved Eru’s Children, he could not help but be aware that such a being could reach out and crush him or one of his family if it so desired.
Oromë’s head turned to Maitimo suddenly, as though he knew his thoughts, but the Vala only blinked his bright yellow eyes, watching Maitimo curiously for a long moment before turning back to Atar and Amil.
Makalaurë had squeezed his hand hard when Oromë glanced over, and Maitimo looked down to see that his little brother’s face was pale with fear. Despite this, Makalaurë moved around so that he was standing in front of Maitimo, as if to shield his older brother with his slender frame. Maitimo wanted to whisper reassurances to him, but he did not want to draw the Vala’s attention again, so he settled for lifting Makalaurë into his arms.
Makalaure’s thin arms wrapped firmly around his neck, nearly choking him, but he could feel the frantic beat of his brother’s heart against his own chest, so he did not try to loosen his hold.
“What is his name?” Oromë asked in a voice that was both as deep as thunder and as soft as a breeze. The air shook with it but quickly settled.
“He will be called Turkafinwë,” Atar said, an arm now around Amil’s shoulders.
Maitimo was amazed when Oromë stooped down and lifted a hand toward Amil’s belly. He glanced between Amil and Atar and asked, “May I?”
Atar gave a curt nod, holding himself proudly, but Amil smiled when she nodded her consent.
Maitimo took a step closer, but he stopped when Makalaure twisted around with a fearful lurch to see what was happening.
The Vala spoke again, his voice quieter this time, so that it seemed as if whisper wound around whisper, only hinting at words beneath the hiss of the sound. Then the Vala smiled wide.
“His spirit is fierce and bright like wildfire,” Oromë said, looking pleased as he stood, towering above them again.
Amil looked like she did not know what to think of this pronouncement, but Atar raised his eyebrows a little, and Maitimo wondered what he would say.
“He is my son. My fire burns in him as it does in my other sons, and as it will in all of my children.”
“Yes,” Oromë said. His smile did not fade, though his eyes changed somehow, as though seeing something not here. Maitimo had seen this look on his mother’s face before, and it always unsettled him when she fell into solemn contemplation afterward.
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