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marauderundercover · 3 years

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Taking Chances Chapter Eight: Family Dinner (Pranks/Dad Jokes)

AO3

Bruce Wayne was not an emotional man. In fact, his emotional capability had once been compared to that of a teaspoon. He had emotions, obviously, but he didn’t express them. Or rather, he wasn’t sure how to express them. But staring down at the photo album in front of him, it was almost painful having no way to express his emotions. It was the most thoughtful gift he had ever received, and it was one that he would treasure forever. He didn’t have baby pictures of his other children. Dick’s were lost at some point while he was still with Haley’s Circus. Jason’s were lost when he had to live on the street. Tim...well, there were a few pictures of Tim. But they were all highly staged school pictures. And those didn’t start until kindergarten. And Damian….Talia wasn’t ever the type to be sentimental. Which meant there were no baby pictures of him either. But Marinette...her entire life had been catalogued. From sonograms, to her first Christmas and the first competition she won. Everything was laid out in order. Bruce turns back to the start of the book, prepared to close it, when an envelope catches his eye. He wasn’t focused on it when he first opened the book. He glances at Marinette and quirks an eyebrow. She frowns.

“Oh, that. Um, it’s the letter that Bridgette wrote to you. I haven’t actually read it, Maman said she hasn’t either. Your name was on the front and apparently she felt awkward opening a letter not addressed to her even with the situation and-” She stops talking, taking a deep breath before smiling. “Sorry. But, you can read it, if you want. I thought you might want to have it.”

“Thank you, Marinette.” He says, smiling slightly. He tries not to laugh when her face lights up seeing him smile. Note, try and show emotions more around Marinette, he thinks. Sitting back on his chair, he opens the envelope and stares down at the letter he should’ve received fourteen years ago.

Dear Bruce…

---

Marinette lets out a sigh of relief as Mr. Wayne sits to read the letter. Tugging Adrien over to her brothers and plopping down on the loveseat, she smiles.

“So Marinette, I noticed the last time you were here you had a sketchbook. Do you draw a lot?” Dick asks, eyeing the lack of space between her and Adrien. Marinette resists the urge to glare at her brother. Was he seriously plotting some way to get her and Adrien away from each other right now? After Mr. Wayne had invited him? Seriously?

“Well, kinda.” She answers, pulling out her mini sketchbook from her purse. “I actually design clothes. So I draw, but it’s mostly clothes. Sometimes I’ll sketch architecture or flowers or something for inspiration but..” She trails off, tentatively passing her sketchbook to Dick. She watches, bouncing her leg as the awkward silence stretches on while Dick looks at the sketchbook with Tim and Jason glancing over his shoulders. And Cass standing behind the couch was also looking at the sketches. Trying not to feel awkward the longer the silence stretches, Marinette jumps as Tim starts choking on his coffee. He jumps towards her and she yelps, leaping off the loveseat and to the side in order to avoid him.

“What the hell Replacement?” Jason huffs. Tim ignores him, staring at her with wide eyes.

“Holy shit, it’s you.” He says.

“Language, Master Tim. Dinner is ready.” Alfred says, popping out of nowhere.

“What do you mean it’s me?” Marinette asks, taking her sketchbook back and stuffing it back into her purse.

“You’re MDC!” Tim practically yells, waving his (not empty) coffee cup around, barely missing dumping it on her head.

“Um, yes?” She says, confused at his level of excitement.

“How are you not freaking out about this?” Tim asks, turning to Dick and Jason who were trying to get him to follow them to the dining room. Key word being trying.

“Am I supposed to?” Dick asks, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Richard Grayson! As a fellow Jagged Stone fan you cannot tell me that you don’t recognize the name of his personal designer!” Tim yells. Dick’s eyes widen in realization, turning to Marinette with a shocked smile.

“Wait, that’s you? Marinette, that’s amazing! I knew your sketches were good, but wow. That’s just- wow!” Dick says, his entire face filled with pride. Marinette laughs awkwardly, her face heating up with all the attention. It was….a lot. But also nice.

“Yeah. I mean, I haven’t done an entire tour wardrobe yet, but I’m proud of the pieces that I have done.” She says.

“Terribly sorry, but it might be nice if we moved our conversations to the dining room.” Alfred says, a twinge of amusement clear on his face. Marinette glances over at Mr. Wayne who was still frozen, clutching the letter from her birth mother. She looks at Alfred and raises an eyebrow. He simply shakes his head and motions for her to go on. Sighing, she nods and follows her brothers (and Adrien, who was suddenly in an intense conversation with Tim about Jagged Stone) to the dining room. As they walk into the dining room, Marinette darts around Dick to snag the seat on the other side of Adrien. Tim sitting on one side of Adrien was fine. Adrien stuck between Tim and Dick? Not fine. She gives Dick a look, and he just smiles innocently before walking around and taking the seat across from Adrien. Should’ve seen that one coming. Once everyone is seated (besides Mr. Wayne, who had sent Alfred back in and instructed everyone to start without him) the conversations taper off, leaving the dining room in an awkward silence.

“Marinette, I have a very serious question for you.” Dick says, his smile telling her that the chances of it actually being a ‘very serious’ question are slim to none.

“Okay, sure.”

“Where do fruits go on vacation?” He asks, a wide grin stretching across his face. “Pear-is!” Marinette just blinks at him. That was almost as bad as-

“Oh my god! That was amazing!” Adrien cheers, laughing so hard he has to set his fork down. Oh god. There’s two of them.

“Really?” Dick asks, his face bright. Oh dear god please no.

“Oh yeah. That joke was pun-derful.” Adrien replies with a snort. Please god. Make it stop.

“I’m glad you think so. Everyone else seems a bit pun-sive.” Dick replies. That’s it. She’d willingly give Hawkmoth her Miraculous if it meant she could leave this dinner and the awful jokes happening. She’d even listen to her Papa’s jokes for an entire hour. As long as she could leave this cursed dinner. The sudden blaring from both her phone and Adrien’s makes her jump, and her eyes widen. Okay, no. She didn’t say the thing about the Miraculous out loud, so she doesn’t actually have to give it up, right? No, it’s fine. Taking it back won’t lead to anything crazy, right?

“Uh, I’m gonna run to the bathroom.” Marinette says, jumping up, frowning at Adrien as he jumps up with her.

“Me too!” He says. Marinette frowns. Way to make it obvious, Kitty.

“I’m fine, I can go to the bathroom by myself.” She insists, rushing off to the bathroom before Adrien can argue. She’d figure something out.

---

Dick raises an eyebrow at Adrien’s shocked face.

“Did you need to go to the bathroom? We have more than one bathroom.” He says, worried that maybe the kid’s shocked face wasn’t because of Marinette’s hasty departure and instead because he really needed the bathroom.

“Oh. Um. No, I’m fine. Apparently.” He mutters the last word, dropping down into his seat and staring at his plate. Dick could see the boy’s hands twitching towards his phone like he wanted to check it, but was afraid of being rude. He was about to tell him that it was okay to check his phone when a blue circle of light appeared over the table. An arm covered in red spandex with black spots sticks out of the light (portal) and grabs Adrien by the front of his shirt. Before anyone can stop the arm, Adrien is through the portal. Gone. Well shit.

“Where are Adrien and Marinette?” Bruce asks, walking into the room and frowning at the empty chairs. Well shit!

Tag list: @maribat-bdbwm @vixen-uchiha @stainedglassm @liquid-luck-00 @jayjayspixiepop @jjmjjktth @mizzy-pop @trippingovermyfeet @queenz-z @thepaceperson @iloontjeboontje @waiting247 @laurcad123 @toodaloo-kangaroo @ritacrow-blog @deathssilentapproach-blog @kittenmywaythrulife @nerd-nowandforever @when-no-wings-do-broomsticks @imarivers8

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polnareffenjoyer · 3 years

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Uh unsure how many characters you’re willing to write for but can I have the SDC crew reacting to seeing their crush’s sketchbook filled with drawings and silly comics of them? On the case you do have a limit on how many, then I’m fine with either Polnareff, Kakoyin, Jotaro or Avdol (who can pick whoever if you want to!) Hope you’re having a lovely day!💕💕

This is such a cute idea anon, hope you like it. Also I don't really have a character limit, I wanted to do all of the crusaders but then I got tired and it already took me such a long time to finish it and ahhh. Sorry for all the grammatical errors, English is not my first language and it's already so late when I'm finishing it and it's just bleh. I hope you like it anyways, sending much love to you anon! ♥️

Stardust Crusaders finding their crushes' sketchbook

Jotaro Kujo

He notices that you've been spending most of your free time drawing in that sketchbook of yours. Truth be told, it bothers him a lot. Jotaro has had a big fat crush on you for a while now, and he secretly longs for your company. He can't admit that tho, he has a hard ass bad boy reputation to maintain after all. What would people say if the saw him all flustered for a girl? The fact that you would rather sit by yourself and draw than be around him and the others bugs him. So one day, when you're busy with something else, he takes your beloved sketchbook and decides to see what's in there. He knows he's being creepy, but he couldn't care less. Just trying to get to know you better, without actually talking to you. Exactly.

He's very flustered but would rather die than admit it. Has read through all of it, admiring every single little drawing. After he's done, he'll just put it back where he found it, it the exact same place just so you don't notice someone has been messing with it. You probably have no idea he had seen your sketchbook at first, but you surely notice the blush dusting his cheeks whenever he speaks to you from that day on. Probably avoids you for a little while because he's so flustered.

The rest of the crew also notices something is off, Jotaro is always lost in thoughts and smokes more frequently. He can't keep himself from thinking about those cute drawings of yours, reading through your comics was a true delight. It fills him with glee to know that HE, among all of the crusaders, is the one who's the main character in your stories. It makes him giddy on the inside.

His secret eventually comes to light one night, he accidentally admits to having read through your comics while a late night talk between the whole group. While you were talking, Kakyoin had brought up the topic of your sketchbook. Now it's your turn to be embarassed, blushing crimson while trying to get as much information out of him as possible. How much did he see? Did he read through ALL OF THEM?

The rest of the crusaders are shocked at first, but quickly they start to laugh at the scene. Jotaro is reluctant to give any information, but he eventually tells you that yes, indeed, he's seen EVERYTHING. However, doesn't admit what the content of the sketchbook really is. Despite everything, he would never embarass you like that.

After everyone goes to sleep, you catch Jotaro before he has a chance to fall asleep, lying on his sleeping bag while looking at the night sky. You want to apologize, say anything, just to talk to him, but you're unable to find right words. He just sighs.

"Yare yare daze, there's no need to be embarassed [Y/N], I'm not mad"

Your eyes light up at his words. You want to say something, anything, thank him, but before you get a chance to do so, Jotaro's deep voice cuts you off.

"To be honest, I think your drawings are amazing. I really liked them" you notice his face is slightly tinted red from underneath his cap "But if you wanted me to model for you, you could've just said so"

With that, he rolls over and away from you. Completely baboozled, you roll over as well and try to sleep, or at least pretend to be asleep. Honestly, neither of you had slept much that night.

Kakyoin Noriaki

Kakyoin had a thing for you since you joined the crusaders, and your sketchbook is probably the very first thing he had noticed about you. He's always been interested in art, his parents had signed him up to numerous art courses and whatnot through his life. He's always loved drawing and painting, using it as an escape from his daily problems, and seeing that you two might have something in common makes him incredibly happy, especially since he has feelings for you.

He'll try to approach you about your sketchbook very subtely, afraid that he might scare you away by being too pushy. Of course you get extremely flustered everytime he brings it up, but it doesn't discourage him. Kakyoin respects your boundaries and understands that you might not be ready to show him your drawings yet. Despite that, he's always willing to share his knowledge with you. He'll give you advices about proper shading while you two are waiting in the hotel lobby for the rest of the group to finish up picking rooms. During a long car ride, he'll talk to you about his favourite artists. If you want him to show you how to put certain shading techniques into practice, he'll be more than happy to do so. He'll just pick a random piece of paper and start drawing on it, you might want to lean in closer and maybe put your head on his shoulder to get a better look? He has no objections! Just sayin.

When he eventually gets to see your sketchbook, this man is so honored! He didn't mean to look, at first he though it was just some book lying around and wanted to take a look inside, out off boredom. Once he realizes what he's reading at, his face flushes with crimson. Your sketchbook is filled with sketches of him? This whole time you were actually drawing him, out of all people? He couldn't be more grateful that no one else was around, if someone saw him reading through your comics with this stupid smile on his face and red cheeks, they would've though he went mad.

Kakyoin wastes no time trying to find you. For a moment, he thinks that perhaps he should've waited a bit, just to get you alone and not embarass you infront of the whole crew. He can't think straight though, his mind filled with your cute little drawings, with his face drawn with black pen over and over again. With glee, he notes that you had used the very techniques he had told you about earlier. If you had drawn him so many times, does it mean that you have a crush on him too? It's too good to be true.

"[Y/N]! Can I talk with you for a minute?"

He goes to confront you immediately. Others give him a puzzled look, but he couldn't care less. He grabs your arms and leads you away.

"Don't be mad [Y/N], but I've seen your sketchbook and I have to say, I think your art is beyond amazing!"

You're at loss of words, your face red and you could swear that you've never felt so embarassed in your whole entire life. However, his reaction is making you feel a bit better. He's not mad, nor is he making fun of you. If anything, he seems enamoured.

"Please, [Y/N], we should draw together! Maybe next time we have a chance, I should paint your portrait?"

Despite the awkwardness, the whole situation turns out amazing in the end. How he's sure you must have feelings for him, and it makes him incredibly happy, hoping that one day, after your crusade is done, he'll get a chance to repay you and make that promised portrait.

Muhammad Avdol

With everything that's been happening lately, Avdol gets a little bit distracted from you. Before he would steal glances your way all the time, watching with curiosity as you would draw something in your sketchbook. Recently, he's been too busy fighting enemy stand users and... well, trying not to die. He still cares about you a lot and watches over you during fights, ready to shield you from danger with his own body, if it's what it takes to keep you safe.

It probably happens because of a mishap. While you are deciding on your rooming, you leave your sketchbook lying next to Avdol's things and go to the bathroom. After he's done helping Joseph with translating and getting everything done, he goes back and assumes that it's just one of his books that has fallen out of the bag. Not thinking much of it, he picks it up and leaves with Mrs Joestar to settle in their shared room.

You can imagine the panic and shock that nearly paralyzes you once you notice that your beloved sketchbook is gone, nowhere to be seen, reduced to atoms! You begin to look around frantically, looking under the furniture while sweating profusely. Other quests give you weird looks, but you don't even notice them staring. Polnareff is one of them, he asks if you're okay and tries to calm you down, but to no avail. After he leaves, you try to focus really hard and try to remember - when did you see it last time? It was on that chair for sure when you left. God, you can only pray that it doesn't end up in Avdol's hands somehow...

Meanwhile, Avdol is getting ready for shower and goes through his bag. He notices the book he picked up from the lobby isn't even a book, but a sketchbook! Now he's sure he must've picked it up by mistake, he decides it would be best to put it down and not look through it. It's someone's very personal art after all, it would be very disrespectful to - wait a damn minute, is that HIM?

Long story short, he goes through a good portion of your drawings before Joseph comes out of the shower and gives him a puzzled look, seeing how his eyes are literally shinning with adoration. He puts your sketchbook back into his bag, acting as if nothing happened and continues on with his nightly routine. Later on, when Joseph is already fast asleep, he contemplates about whether or not he should go to your room right now and ask about the sketchbook he had found. He's already suspecting it's yours, whose else would it be? He has seen you drawing often, could it be that you returned his feelings and had spent your time sketching him? Ultimately, he decides to wait until tomorrow to find out.

The very next day, he knocks on your door early in the morning. It startles you awake, running up to your door to look through a peephole, seeing a muscular man on the other side. Sighing heavily, you unlock the door and open it just a little bit.

"Excuse my intrusion, [Y/N], but I have found something that I think belongs to you."

Now that's embarassing. You see your sketchbook in his hand, a wide, knowing smile on his face. He knows it's yours. All it took is one look at your stupid red face to figure it out. God, he can read you like an open book, can't he? While you reach out to take it from him, your fingers touch just slightly.

"Don't worry, I swear I won't tell anyone about this" she winked at you, which almost made you gasp "If anything, I think I should maybe pose for you in private? So you can get a better look? You should think about it..."

Who would've thought this man could be such a flirt sometimes...

Jean Pierre Polnareff

You better watch out, because if this man has a crush on you, you bet he would go above and beyond to find out what's inside that sketchbook. I'm not joking. He forgets what personal space is, he's even worse that Jotaro, because while JoJo would make sure to be sneaky, Polnareff wouldn't even bother. He'll try to catch a sneak peak by looking over your shoulder while you're drawing, constantly asking you questions about art related things, everything always leading to your sketchbook.

He wants to know what's inside. Simple as that. You're like an enigma to him, I feel like all women are mysteries to him and he always works towards finding out what their secrets are. You are especially interesting to him, because of how secretive you are with your art. He's captivated, and while he never had any interest in arts himself, he had always fancied himself as a man with a great sense of beauty. That being said, he's always trying to get your attention while talking about how "France is a wonderful country for artists! You should come and visit after our crusade is over, [Y/N]! I'll show you all the greatest museums and art galleries!"

He's like a puppy, following you around and being just a bit too pushy. If you tell him you feel uncomfortable, he'll back off of course. He's not just some juvenile pervert after all! He's a honourable man who would never touch or bother a woman without her permission, no matter how desperate he seems sometimes.

When he finally sees your sketchbook, it's probably because he did it on purpose and not because of an accident. He wanted to make sure that it was him your were capturing in your drawing, and boy was he happy when he saw what's inside! It's all him, cute little sketches, little comics, it's better that he could've ever imagined! He's literally crying the tears of joy while reading them. Before it was all just wishful thinking, but now it turns out to be true! He's honoured, admiring every single little drawing with hit tears streaming down his face. He must look pathetic right now, if anyone was around they would think the was a mad man. He gets up and runs away with your sketchbook in his hand, trying to find you.

"[Y/N]! Ma cherie! Mon coeur! My love, my life! We need to talk!"

Did i mention that he doesn't shy away from nicknames? Yeah.

It's probably the worst confrontation compared to the rest of them, he's not subtle like Kakyoin and decides to talk with you about your drawings right then and there, in front of everyone. At first they're surprised, looking at Polnareff as is he was crazy, but slowly their shock is replaced with amusement. Joseph doesn't even try to hold back his laughter, while the rest of the crew is trying to keep it cool as not to embarass you any further while the Frenchman is just going on and on with his declarations of undying love. It's a bit dramatic, one of these moments that you will probably laugh about in the future, but you felt like disappearing right then and there.

"Your drawing are magnifique! [Y/N], my love, if you wanted to draw me, you could've just said so! Although I don't think I deserve to be potrayed by you, to be drawn by your skilled hands, ma cherie!"

You snatch the sketchbook from him. After that incident you probably try to avoid him, but he won't give up! He's more determined than ever, knowing that you feel the same way as he does fills him with hope, hope for a future life with you that is! He won't give up until he makes you the happiest woman on earth.

#jojo's bizarre adventure #jjba x reader #jjba x you #stardust crusaders #jotaro kujo #noriaki kakyoin #muhammad avdol #jean pierre polnareff #jotaro x reader #jjba imagines #stardust crusaders imagines #kakyoin imagine #polnareff x reader #avdol x reader #jjba headcanons #first request done!

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literate-lamb · 3 years

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can I kiss you on the dancefloor?

Steve Rogers/Reader

One year into a relationship, yet still dancing in secrecy. Steve thinks he’s protecting you.

When a civilian and a hero fall in love, anything could go wrong. But not in the way Steve would have thought.

Or how the media play with the lives of superheroes.

►word count: 7.6k

► warnings(!): slight angst, alcohol

A/N: My gift to @blue-like-barnes for the Hoelentines Fic Exchange! I’m sorry it took some time, giftee. I didn’t expect this to turn into a monster (yikes). Thank you for hosting @amythedvdhoarder @chrissquares @drabblewithfrannybarnes ! Dividers from @firefly-graphics and GIF from Giphy

On his day-offs, Steve Rogers was a man full of disguises.

When they first started, it was the baseball cap and thick-rimmed glasses. He liked it, it was simple, but he knew it wouldn’t be long before someone would notice. How could one not when his face was the one plastered in old war propaganda, in the museums commemorating his achievements, and even flashes on the telly when you walk past the local electronics store.

Hence, it wasn’t a surprise when the tabloids posted a photo of him in his disguise, waiting at a crosswalk on a cold night.

‘Captain America spotted on a midnight stroll’ came the next morning. It was taken after he was done walking you home, thankful they didn’t catch a glimpse of you.

“So capsicle, where were you off to last night?” Tony greeted him at breakfast, offending paper in hand. He unrolled it, opening and making a show of reading, displaying the front page for all seated to see. “Nice reading glasses, wasn’t aware you needed them.”

Striding into the room, Natasha came and snatched the tabloid. She gave it a critical eye, judging, before turning towards him.

“Hmm, recycling disguises, Rogers? I’m disappointed.”

Steve just groaned in reply.

The second time it happened, he had gone to the Black Widow herself for advice. He had expected sound advice coming from a former KGB spy who spent her paycheck on hair, but all he got was a stick-on mustache. Something about ‘needing to blend in rather than pointing the obvious’.

“I don’t know what you’re up to, Steve, but at least it’s better than that nerd get-up,” she smirked.

You had liked it. Giggling every time he kissed you, the fibres tickling your lips. He had ‘a caterpillar’ on his upper lip as you called it. And Steve had learned to get used to the itch.

But it wasn’t long before his new look was the star in barbershops.

‘Captain America’s new look takes the world by storm.’ They had caught him again in another paparazzi shot. Tony had teased him for days after.

He couldn’t shake it off easily, constantly reminded of it when he walked the streets. Seeing them on screens when he’s channel-surfing. Even when he’s training new recruits, his vision filled with a sea of unshaved cadets, their hairy upper lips a prominent fixture.

He knew he had to do something when Bucky and Sam came in one day sporting twin mustaches.

He discarded the strip of fibre in the bin. Reminding to pay Natasha a visit.

The third time he decided, he seeked out the help of Scott Lang, who was a master in keeping out of sight during his burglary days. Scott had given him a black beanie and told him to grow out his facial hair.

The beanie hid his golden locks and the beard made him look rugged. You loved it, your thighs quivered when it was him and you in the four walls of your room. Uncontrollable groans as he went down. ‘Beard burn’ you had called it. Whatever it was, he loved the sounds you let out.

Four months. That’s how long the disguise lasted. His longest disguise to date.

Before he became a trend.

‘Captain America is the new style icon.’ The internet sleuths found out where he got it too. ‘The sale of Walmart beanies skyrocketed by 70% thanks to Captain America.’

Tony had bought everyone in the compound a black beanie for Christmas, including the receptionist.

“Our grandpa’s a trendsetter, who knew,” he announced. Steve had smacked the back of Tony’s head with the beanie before retiring the disguise.

Now, sitting in The Sleeping Cat, Steve had opted for aviators and a Nasa baseball cap. He still kept his beard after your pleads, and he liked the look, he admits. It was back to basics for him and this was one of the only places where he was safe from prying eyes. Afterall, it was in this very café where he had met you.

The Sleeping Cat was a quaint little thing, a hole in the wall in a quiet part of the city. Not many knew of its existence, the entrance obscure, a blink and you’ll miss it. Which made it all the more perfect for him. The baristas knew him and minded their own business, offering him a smile every time he visited. ‘You’re safe with us’ they seem to say.

He could say the same about the patrons. Most that frequented were regulars like him, they seemed the same, looking for a place to get away from the overbearing world. They seemed to share an understanding, paying him no mind as if he was just another man they passed on the streets. And that’s how he preferred it.

Just a boy from Brooklyn.

Ding!

The chime of the door pulled him out of his thoughts. Facing the door, he saw you, smiling as you came through.

This was the best part of his days.

You had met Steve Rogers at the most unexpected of times.

Terminated from your previous job at a small gallery, dumped by an ex-boyfriend after a 2 year relationship, you were at an utmost low. To escape your roommates —in case of pitying or prying, but if you were honest with yourself, it was to escape your own humiliation— you left the apartment on weekdays under the guise of going to work. In reality, you were at The Sleeping Cat applying for jobs on your laptop.

It was during one of the afternoon hours when you felt a tap on your shoulder.

Turning to your left, you were greeted by a pair of startling blues. They were bright but worn as if they’ve seen too many. Looking at the bigger picture, you took him in. Hair hidden under a cap, a sharp jaw and an equally sharp nose, and if you looked closely, you thought you could spot a few moles on his cheeks. He looked familiar, but you couldn’t put a finger to it.

Eyes fleeting to his lips, you realized he was actually talking.

“Huh?”

“I was wondering if this seat’s taken?” He smiled, gesturing towards the empty seat opposite. He was clearly amused.

“Yeah, sure, sure,” you nodded, making room for his things.

The following days, it became a routine and an arrangement. You would be at the café as early as the owner would allow, laptop in hand. While he would come in the afternoons in a different jacket each day, a sketchbook in hand. You would be propped up, sending application after application, praying for luck. While he would quietly sit, churning sketch after sketch, in a relaxed demeanour.

Sometimes you would peek over your screen and watch him draw for a few minutes, lost in his strokes. When you look up, you’ll find his eyes locked with yours, and you’ll immediately reimmerse yourself behind the screen, embarrassed.

It was a comfortable routine. You came to expect him everyday. And on the days that he didn’t make it, you felt a bit forlorn looking at the empty seat. You both didn’t talk much, yet you were getting comfortable in his presence.

Until one day, he broke the silence.

“So, what is it that you do?”

You stared, dumbfounded. Looking around there wasn’t anyone nearby.

“Were you talking to me?” you asked.

“Yes,” he chuckled. “It’s just that you’re always on your computer…” he trailed off.

“I’m an assistant curator at an art gallery— or, er, used to be,” you explained. “Long story short, I lost my job and now I’m looking for a new one, that’s why I’m here.”

He seemed to ruminate before replying, “So you know a thing or two about art?”

You both started a new routine; one with a lot of communicating. He would ask you about your mundane weekends and interests and in turn, you would ask about his. Except, he was anything but mundane.

On the days he was absent, you learned Steve was away on a lot of ‘business trips’. When he returned, he had never failed to present you with a souvenir. From matryoshkas to sarongs, it was always a surprise accompanied by a tale.

“The pattern on the sarong is called a batik, and it’s amazing how they’re drawn using wax like a liquid crayon. It’s an interesting art form.”

Outside of your little routine, he was an enigma. You barely knew about the Steve outside of The Sleeping Cat. Sometimes he threw the names ‘Bucky’ and ‘Sam’ a lot —out of exhaustion— without giving away anything, remaining tight-lipped. While his mysteriousness should’ve been a cause of concern, you couldn’t help but gravitate towards him, wanting to peel more of his layers, like the shell of a matryoshka.

The routine went on for a few more weeks, with calls of interviews and business trips in between. Before you received a phone call.

“I got a job! At the Whitney!” you squealed, shaking his shoulders over the table, oblivious to the other patrons. Steve endured it, smiling.

“Congratulations,” he said when you’ve calmed down. “I guess this is the last time I’ll be seeing you?”

You froze, high coming down, realization settling in. After a few weeks of secret meetings, of getting to know him, of having lunch together, of sharing laughs, you’ve come to see Steve as a good friend. And maybe, there was the birth of something more.

“Let’s exchange numbers,” you said, opening your phone. “This way, maybe we can hang out again. Have lunch sometimes?”

“I’d like that.” He smiled.

And the rest was history.

Making your way towards The Sleeping Cat, you amused yourself with past memories. Memories from almost over a year ago.

Steve had come to give a speech at the opening ceremony of an exhibition at the Whitney. Your first exhibition as a curator. An exhibition on art from the war times. When they had announced his title, a loud ‘oh’ was the only thing you could muster.

The ‘ding’ of the bell resounded, announcing your arrival. Heading in, you saw a head perked up, beaming, baseball cap securing his golden locks and aviators hiding his mesmerizing blues.

This was the best part of your days.

But maybe, you were getting a little tired.

If someone were to ask you months ago if you were happy and content with your relationship, you would’ve replied with a swift yes in a heartbeat. No hesitation, no reservations, no doubt. Now, sitting in the same cafe, the same one you frequent on dates, the same one you both met in, you weren’t sure of the answer anymore.

As Steve gets up to order for you both, your eyes wander to his sketchpad. It was filled with sketches of random objects; the flower on the table, the pastries on display, sometimes the patrons of the cafe, and occasionally, you.

“You’re my favourite subject, so far.”

It was not for the lack of love or the lack of affection. Steve was the most loving; loyal in so many ways, gentle when asked, and protective to a fault. Maybe the protectiveness was the cause of it all.

Staring at Steve’s back, your mind shifted to a memory from the past week, when your roommate pulled you aside from a get-together at the ice rink.

“Hey,” she called your name, taking a hold of your elbow. “Can I talk to you for a sec?��

“Sure, what’s up?” you followed her, leading you to the sides.

Her eyes conveyed her worry. It amplified with the chewing of her bottom lip, a nervous tick.

“Are you and Steve… okay?” she asked, her brows perked. “I’m not sure if you notice, but today, it’s full of couples.”

You looked towards your group of friends. There was your roommate’s girlfriend tying her skates, your other roommate and her boyfriend talking to another couple —their friends— and they were all holding their significant other’s hand. Oh.

“I don’t want to throw you out of the loop, but there would probably be a lot of double skating involved today,” she said, widening her eyes, looking comical. “Do you want me to talk to Steve? Maybe I could convince him to come, y’know?”

Out of your two roommates, she was the only one who knew of your paramour. Having walked in on you and Steve making out on the couch. She was sworn into secrecy, with the promise of autographs from all the Avengers.

“Look, it’s okay,” you assured her. “I can handle skating alone, and you know why he can’t really come here with us,” you shrugged.

“Okay, but aren’t you tired? Of all this sneaking around? Don’t you want to shout to the whole world ‘I’m fucking Captain America!’” she flailed.

You shushed her, muffling her mouth with your gloved hand.

Part of the secret was how Steven Rogers was an engineered superhero. A superhero with many enemies, leading him to fear for his loved ones, and that included you.

You went into the relationship whole-heartedly knowing the challenges; discreet rendezvous, kisses in the dark, minimal contact in public. You were his secret and he was yours. It was for your own good, wasn’t it?

“What’s got your little head wrapped up?” Steve’s voice startled you, bringing you back to the café. On the table, two cups of coffee and a slice of cake was served.

“Hmm? Oh, just thinking about this party the museum’s throwing this weekend,” you took your cup, blowing, contemplating your next words.“Say, how about you and I, I don’t know, go as dates?”

Steve crunched his brows. “You know that’s a hard thing for me to do, especially with your colleagues around.”

“I know! But maybe… maybe, you can go in one of your disguises this time? Remember that one time we went to Central Park?”

Steve exhaled, he remembered that afternoon. It was the one-off that you both ventured on a date in the outdoors.

Decked in his beanie, casually strolling through Central Park with you beside him. Although he was still wary, keeping his hands in his pockets, fighting the urge to hold your hand.

No one had recognized him; not the ice-cream man, not the kids running around, not the mothers pushing strollers. No one.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

You leaned forward, pecking him on the lips multiple times. “Thank you!”

“You sure this looks convincing?”

“Trust me, punk. Grade A assassin here, thank you very much,” Bucky boasted while fixing the wig on his scalp, untangling the unruly strands.

Steve had sought Bucky for help, with the belief that assassins were good at hiding in plain sight (and maybe, he just didn’t want to go to Natasha twice). Bucky was also his most trusted confidant and he knew about you, Steve trusted him not to tell. But now looking at himself in the opposite mirror, he wasn’t so sure of that anymore.

Long dangly tresses hung on the sides of his face parting in the middle, a trimmed beard leaving a bit of goatee, and to finish it off, Bucky dressed him in a checkered shirt consisting of random coloured squares. He looked like he just stepped out of the 60’s.

“Oh, wear these,” Bucky handed him a pair of large wire-framed glasses. “Done.”

Steve took a look in the mirror. A seedy pimp was the first thought that crossed his mind.

“Thanks Buck, I owe you one.”

“Sure Stevie, just bring me around next time on one of your dates, I’d like to meet her,” Bucky winked. “Or make it double.” He wagged his brows. “Like old times.”

Steve snorted.

“Okay, I got—“ Steve’s words halted when an alarm blared overhead. It demanded their attention.

“Captain Rogers, Sergeant Barnes, your presence is required in Prep Room six,” called the disembodied voice. “There’s been a breach of extraterrestrial energy in the airspace of Sweden.”

Steve exited and rushed through the hallways, Bucky following close behind. He made it through the living quarters, trudging to the training wing before entering one of the many prep rooms.

“Nice costume, Cap. Halloween already?” Sam quipped. Almost everyone was present, they were equally amused.

Before anyone else could follow, Tony strided in immediately, grumbling. “Okay team, there’s been an E.T synthezoid putting holes in the ozone layer. I’ll fill you all in the quinjet. Suit up and meet me at the hangover in 10.”

Everybody gathered their equipment and hurried to leave, passing by him. Before Tony could, he took notice of Steve and did a double take. And then a third.

“What’s with the pimp daddy get-up, Capsicle?”

Steve huffed, ignoring the jab. “I have something that I need to attend. How important am I in this, Tony?”

“We need all hands on deck. We don’t really know what we’re up against, Fury’s still running recon,” Tony explained, squaring his shoulders. “Whatever it is you have, Cap. It can wait. Lives are at stake here.” With that, he left, not standing by for a response.

“Darn it,” Steve cursed, removing the glasses and the wig.

He left the prep room with his shield in hand. With one hand, he shot a text to you. He’ll make it up next time.

Loverboy [6:30 PM]: Emergency mission

Loverboy [6:30 PM]: Can’t make it, sorry

You switched the screen off, sighing. Around you, the party was in full swing. Invitees mingling with refreshments in hand, discussing the pieces on display tonight, and bidding on the pieces they find exquisite. Hors d’oeuvres and champagne were being served, brought around by servers on silver platters. You’ve been munching on them non-stop, grabbing one every time a server comes your way, needing something to occupy you.

Surrounding you, you’d see the occasional couple walking around, enjoying their time. The palms of their hands locked in each other’s as they navigate together, rarely straying afar.

You clenched your hand, reminded of how empty it felt.

It was inevitable, you were warned of this, you were told to expect this. Dating a superhero meant that he was never solely yours. You were sharing your boyfriend with someone, except that someone was the world.

“Hiiii!” a shrill voice broke your thought, calling you by name. A blonde woman, followed by a brunette emerged from the gathering of art-goers, headed towards you. “It’s been a long while!”

“Hey! Yeah, it’s been awhile,” you waved, recognizing the two.

When they reached you, you were aware of the slight tension in the air, leaving the three of you standing awkwardly. After all, these two were your ex-colleagues and you didn’t exactly leave the previous gallery on good terms. Tonight was a night with masks, it seemed.

“So, how are you two doing?” you decided to get it over with.

“We’re fine, everyone’s fine! But how are you? We heard you worked here now, pretty impressive,” the brunette —Claire— winked at you. You laughed.

“Yeah, it’s so nice seeing you again, and at the Whitney? The pay must be good, you know what I’m saying?” Hilda chimed, knocking her elbows with yours. You didn’t appreciate it but you endured.

“Say, what are you doing over here far away? Why not you join us over there,” Hilda pointed, towards a mounted canvas at the end of the hall. It was occupied by two men in a discussion among themselves. “Chat a bit to catch up, a bit of art philosophical debate in between. What do you say?”

You contemplated her offer, not wanting to seem pretentious, but thought about the false flattery and ego-stroking that would sure ensue in their company. The thought of it drained you.

“It’s okay,” you waved them off nervously. “I have to call my boyfriend sooner, gotta check up on him and let him know I’m... alright.” You held up your phone, playing on convincing.

“Oh? He isn’t here tonight?” Claire seemed to feign worry.

“No, he got caught up with something. He’s a busy man,” you cooked up an excuse. No one could know.

“Okay… In that case, we’ll leave you to it. Maybe we’ll bump into each other sooner.”

“Yeah, I’ll see you guys soon.”

They waved before backing away into the mass of patrons. You let out a breath you didn’t know you held in.

While the interaction was unexpected, this was what you had to deal with when it came to the question of your relationship. The excuses, they became second nature to you. The lies. The deceit. Anything to protect Steve’s identity, and inadvertently, you.

Throughout the night, you mingled with any clients interested in a work of art, all the while stepping out of Hilda and Claire’s line of sight. You didn’t wish a repeat of the earlier evening.

When the crowd started dwindling, signalling the end of the night, you were relieved of your duties. You headed straight for the restrooms after, one getaway before leaving. You huddled yourself in a cubicle, locking it shut.

Seconds in, you heard the creak of the restroom door followed by the clicks of heels.

“Can you believe it? Someone like that got the chance of working here.”

You recognized the nasally tone. It was Claire.

“Yeah? Not like she deserves it. I mean look at her? Demure, slow. It’s like talking to a mouse. I bet she’s a prude too.” That was Hilda.

The gushing of the faucet muffled their voices, but their sharp words were clear as day, your ear catching every snark and hiss.

“And when she was talking about her boyfriend? He probably doesn’t even exist, it was just to get off our backs,” Hilda paused. “Last time I heard, her boyfriend dumped her. So, I guess she’s creating imaginary ones now.”

They both cackled.

By now, you knew they were talking about you. Their words didn’t hurt as much, you knew the colour of their hearts beneath the masks. But was that how people viewed your hidden relationship? A facade? A farce?

Once the door clicked shut, and the tapping of their heels faded, you left the restroom, heart feeling heavier.

(y/n) [6:45 PM]: stay safe stevie ! remember to hydrate

(y/n) [6:46 PM]: punch those meanies

(y/n) [6:46 PM]: (`⌒*)⍟-(`⌒´Q)

Steve chuckled when he turned on his phone, amused at your texts. You always sent him good luck messages every time he went off for missions. Although he didn’t seem to get the emoticons that you sent, even after being taught by Peter Parker. He just didn’t get them.

Steve dialed your number, sitting on the edge of the bed as he dried his washed hair. Beeps ringed before you picked up, your smooth lilt permeating the speakers.

“Hello? Stevie?”

Steve smiled, missing the caress of your voice after a day filled with explosions and cries.

“Hello, sweetheart,” he greeted. “How’s my girl been?”

“Great, now that you called,” you teased. “But are ‘you’ fine?” you emphasized.

On the other end of the line, you mirrored his position, sitting on one corner of the bed. Picking the newspaper in your lap, you observed the front page: ‘Avengers saves the Arctic!’

“Same old, same old,” his voice carries. “Listen, about yesterday—“

“It’s okay,” you interrupted him, other hand gripping the newspaper. “You have to protect the Earth and that also means me. You don’t have to apologize, I knew what I signed up for.”

Did you? Or was it now a hollow statement to convince yourself?

“I still want to make up for it, my girl deserves that much,” he responded.

You slowly unclenched the paper. It left Steve’s form crinkled.

“If you want to sooo bad,” you exaggerated. “There’s a Valentines charity ball for our arts program in three weeks time. You think you could make it this time?”

“You know no promises, but I plan to, even if I have to do everyone’s laundry for a week.” You heard rustling on the other line. “What’s the exact date? I’ll put it on my calendar.”

“The 16th.” Scratchy scribbling filled your ear, the sound loud in the silence.

“Done. Can’t wait to see you all dolled up, sweetheart.”

“Me too, baby,” you said. “At least put on a nice moustache this time.”

He laughed. Your heart felt lighter. To him, it was probably nothing, but to you, it was a form of reassurance. A reassurance that what you had was real.

“Steve, you got a moment?”

The aforementioned man turned around, taking a glance over his shoulder. Sharon Carter slowed to a stop, a small smile on her face. As always, she carried an air of superiority, matching that of Steve’s wavelength. Yet today, it seemed dim.

“I think we need to talk, you have time for coffee?”

Glancing at his watch, he nodded. “Sure, Sharon. Lead the way.”

She took them outside of S.H.I.E.L.D and into the chilly air of DC, navigating through streets and crowds while huddling in their coats. They chatted, breaths puffing as they caught up, the familiar scenes passing by.

He hadn’t been in DC in awhile, it felt good to be back.

“We’re here.”

Sharon headed in first, holding the door for him. He thanked her. They ordered and got seated. A smile was shared, strained as it seemed.

“Better just rip the band-aid off,” Sharon sighed. “I miss us.”

“Sharon—“

“Please, hear me out first,” she insisted, showing her palm. “We probably shouldn’t have done what we’ve done after Aunt Peggy’s funeral. I just lost someone I looked up to the most, and you lost the woman that you loved. We were both grieving. It wasn’t fair to the both of us.”

“While I do miss us, I know that it wasn’t meant to be,” she continued, shooting a sombre smile. “I understand that now. I guess, what I wanted was closure.”

Her hand quivered on the table between them. Steve clasped his over hers, offering to soothe.

“I don’t regret what happened in Germany. While yes, it should have not happened, it was what we thought we needed at that time. We both lost someone we held dear,” Steve explained, hoping his words reached her. “None of it was a mistake, Sharon. You’re still someone I trust and hold dear, remember that.”

Steve clutched her hand tighter, running his thumb over her knuckles in circular motions, attempting to calm and show understanding.

In his efforts, unknown to the two, the shutter of a camera went off across the street.

Something felt off. Everything that could go wrong, went wrong. At first, you thought it was your own anxious mind running.

You woke up late on a work day, burned your eggs and toast, accidentally wore unmatching socks, and your roommate was acting weird. All jittery when you entered the hall, stammering her words, and performing this bizarre dance when you walked past the living room. You gave her no mind when you passed the threshold and slammed the door, phone gripped in hand.

Loverboy [6:00 AM]: Good morning, dear

Loverboy [6:01 AM]: [image]

A photo of Steve, sweaty after a run showed on the screen. He was smiling, shirt stained and clinging to his chest. You had taught him how to take selfies.

You [7:20 AM]: morning, handsome

You [7:20 AM]: 😍😍😍

The morning texts were the best part of your morning commute. It made the arduous and packed journey worthwhile. Even when you almost tripped at the doors, it couldn’t take away your joy.

You made it just in time and clocked in, meeting clients and discussions with artists throughout the day. It was uneventful, although the bad luck seemed to have followed when you spilled your coffee on the concrete.

It was when you left the museum that your day took a turn for the worst.

On the ride home, the man opposite you was reading a newspaper. Nothing unusual, but at a glance, you thought you saw a familiar face printed on the corner. Before you could take a closer look, the man folded it in half and got off.

A few minutes later, you arrived at your stop, exiting the station with the fast-paced crowd. That’s when you were bombarded.

Lining the streets, your vision was filled with the scattering of a crowd of papers. Every face you saw was plastered in them.

‘The Good Captain In Love?’

‘A Superhero & A Civilian Romance?’

‘Captain America’s Girl? Mysterious Woman Sighted’

The sight of them left you in a panic, your anxiety spiking through the roof. Your world started spinning, everything —buildings, trees, faces— blending altogether. Everywhere your eyes deflected, a headline invaded your sight, imprinting itself on your retinas. Had they found out?

Composing yourself, you headed towards the nearest news stall, mind boggled with too many questions and not enough answers. How? Why? When?

Only, it wasn’t your face they were publishing.

‘“Oh Captain, My Captain” America in love? Spotted last week in DC was Captain Steven Rogers with a mysterious lady. They seemed to be cozy with each other, an eyewitness told Us Weekly. Story on Page 11.’

The photograph showcased Steve with a blonde woman, sitting in a café with their hands clasped on the table. Your heart shattered at the sight, remembering how empty yours have felt lately.

Was he purposely out with this woman in public? What did that mean for you? Why were you shadowed?

“Are you and Steve… okay?”

“She’s creating imaginary ones now.”

“Aren’t you tired? Of all this sneaking around?”

“You know that’s a hard thing for me to do.”

“Hey lady, you gonna pay for that?”

You were shaken out of your stupor. Looking down, you were clutching the magazine too hard, ripping the image of Steve and the woman in half, right in the middle where their hands met.

You apologized to the man and paid for the magazine. Immediately discarding it in the next trash bin you saw.

“So… you and Sharon?” Sam had asked him after training.

“What?”

“You, and, Sharon,” Sam emphasized, pronouncing each syllable. “Are together. Man, when were you gonna tell me? I thought it was over.”

Steve froze before replying, “Because it is. A long time ago.”

“Well, this seems to say otherwise.”

Sam showed him his phone, the screen displaying an article; ‘Captain America’s Girl Revealed. A Family Affair That Transcends Time.’ On top of the article was a photo of him and Sharon at the cafe in DC, his hand atop of hers on the table. A zoomed in version of their hands were provided, fueling the tabloid’s narrative.

Steve paled at the sight. This wasn’t supposed to happen. This was his fears manifested; his anonymity taken, his privacy invaded, but his worst fear was putting his loved ones in danger. And if it was due to their association with him, it would leave him racked with guilt.

While the tabloids were wrong, he knew that Sharon could defend for herself. You on the other hand…

His heart rate rose, a new wave of anxiety spiked. Steve wondered if you’ve seen this. No, you must’ve seen this.

Fishing for his phone, with clammy hands, Steve quickly dialed your number, anxiously waiting for the beeping to end.

‘The number you’ve dialed is not—‘

“Damn it!”

His outburst surprised Sam, shocking him. Sam gave him a look, inquisitive.

“Sorry Sam, I have to run.”

He left, heart in his throat.

When Steve arrived at your apartment, he was almost out of breath. He was still anxious, the ride here not doing much to his addled mind. But he was determined.

Rapidly knocking on your front door, Steve composed himself. When it opened, he was met with the sight of your roommate -- the one that he has never met before.

“Ca-Captain America?” she yelped, shocked to see him on the doorstep.

“Is your roommate in?” he steeled.

“Which one—”

“Steve,” a voice interrupted.

The door pulled further, widening the entrance. Steve was met with your familiar roommate. She was tense, arms locked across her chest, eyes full of fury. Steve detected something else in them; worry.

“You fucked up,” she said. He winced.

“I know,” he admitted. “And I’m here to make things right. Can I please see her?”

She sighed, stepping in, nodding towards your room.

Steve hastily walked in, stopping in front of your door. He knocked thrice, signalling you, before turning the knob. It was unlocked. The room was dark when he entered, every source of light switched off, except for your curtains.

Sitting on the edge of the bed was you, figure illuminated by the street lights against pitch black darkness. When he stepped in closer, you looked up, eyes meeting his.

Steve turned on the lights and closed the door. He took a good look at you; hair frazzled, eyes bloodshot and dry, nose red. You were the image of heartbreak.

“Are you ashamed of me?” you asked, eyes locked with his.

“What? No, I—“

“Is it because I’m not strong?” you cut him off. “I know she’s Peggy’s niece… a-and I know how much you loved her. She was your first love.”

“She and I, it’s all in the past. She moved on and lived her life, and I… did too.”

“But did you really, Steve? Move on?” you whispered, getting up. You stood in front of him. Steve could see how puffed your eyes were from crying. “Or was I just… a rebound?”

“No. No, you were never a rebound,” he took hold of your forearms. “I care for you, too much.”

“Then why?!” you shrieked, shocking Steve. “Why the secrets? Why the hiding? Steve, you’ve never even introduced me to your friends. Shouldn’t they know?”

“I wanted to protect you!”

“Protect me from what?!” you roared, eyes full of fury. “The Avengers? If they knew about me, they would protect me. Don’t you think so?”

Steve had no words to that, his mind a jumbled mess.

“I’m… beginning to think that you’re embarrassed with me,” you sighed. “We’ve never been on a date publicly, as each other. We’ve never held hands in public. I want you to meet my friends. I want to introduce you to them, and maybe soon, I want you to meet my family.”

“B-but, I’m tired, Steve. Tired of all the hiding. Of all the sneaking around. I want to tell the world that I’m in love with Steve Rogers, not Captain America,” you sighed, shedding a few tears.

You waited for his reply, only to be disappointed.

“You know I can’t do that.”

You saw red. All you saw was red.

You started pushing him, swatting him in the chest. Steve didn’t fight back, letting you unleash your anger, your disappointment. He took your hits, letting you release your pent up emotions. He began backing away when you started advancing, back against the door.

“Get out! Get out!” you screeched, pushing him.

When he unlocked the door and crossed, you immediately shut the door in his face. Steve heard sobbing from inside, his heart shattering at the sounds.

“This way, Captain,” your roommate approached him, showing him to the door.

Steve relented, shame flooding him. He fucked up.

You stopped visiting The Sleeping Cat, wanting to avoid him at all costs. You blocked his number. You immersed yourself in your work, prepping for the upcoming charity gala.

Sometimes you find yourself thinking about him when sleep proved to be difficult. It’s when you’re laying at night that you missed him the most.

But it was for the best, you reasoned. For you and him.

The Avengers PR had pushed for a fix-it, publishing a story that spoke a truth. ‘Just Friends: Romantic Allegations Proved False’. Steve had hoped you’d seen it.

He called you every day but found himself blocked from everything. He still tried, hoping you’d come around one day. He came by The Sleeping Cat every other day, sitting in the same spot, hoping to catch you.

But you never came.

You clasped the necklace in place, admiring how it sat on your clavicle through the mirror. You took a step back and took yourself in, smiling at what you saw. It didn’t reach your eyes.

Today was the day of the Valentines gala and you weren’t feeling particularly giddy about it.

Opening your phone, you stared at the one contact that stood out, finger hovering over his name. That name used to give you so many feelings, but today it was a reminder that you were going alone, again.

Sighing, you threw it in your purse and left. Another lonely night, and on an even celebrating love.

Days turned into weeks, and soon, before he knew it, the day of your Valentines gala arrived.

Steve stared at the calendar. The heart-shaped doodle he drew called out to him, reminding him of fond memories. Fond memories that seemed like a distant dream. But then, he went back to last week, and it all came crashing.

He had hurt you. While thinking he was protecting you, he hadn’t realized he was inadvertently pushing you away. He had no one to blame but himself.

He loved you. No, still loves you. You grounded him, gave him the normalcy that he craved. Reminded him of a distant time before he was Captain America.

You made him feel like the boy from Brooklyn again.

While he was ruminating in his feelings, Steve was caught off-guard when the door burst open with Tony Stark coming through. From his peripheral, he could see Bucky and Sam peeking through the frame.

“Heard from the Manchurian Candidate that someone has a case of the achy breaky heart,” Tony said, smug.

“Leave me alone, Tony. I’m not in the mood,” he grumbled, setting down the calendar.

“And leave you wallowing like shit while your girl is out there probably equally miserable? I know a thing or two about women, Rogers, and it’s that they don’t like to be kept waiting.”

Tony snapped his fingers and from behind, Sam came in with a tuxedo in hand.

“Thought you might need this,” Sam said.

Bucky came out behind him, with a brush and can of hairspray. “And I still know how to do hair.”

“And I have friends in places,” Tony quipped. “I can get you in.”

Steve was surprised. His friends had surprised him. You would’ve loved them. He was left speechless.

“What are you waiting for, Cap? Suit up.” Tony winked.

Swirling the glass of rosé, your gaze fell towards the dance floor. An upbeat song was being played as people flocked near the middle, letting their bodies take charge for the night. You saw your former co-workers among the throng, hands thrown around their significant others, having the time of their lives.

The gala was in full swing, if the crowd and chatter was any indication. Red and roses were the main theme, with a red carpet stretching from the grand staircase towards the main hall and roses lining every corner and wall. Taking it all in, you were proud to see your ideas visualized and work came to fruition.

You sipped your rosé, enjoying every bit of the gala as you could. From the sidelines, you spoke with a few potential clients and art collectors. Their presence made you feel your importance, and if you dared say it, a little less lonely.

It was during one of your little chats that you didn’t realize when the hall suddenly fell quiet. You turned around when you felt a tap on your shoulder.

“Hi folks, mind if I crash your party?”

Steve smiled at Tony’s antics. They both had arrived at the gallery dressed in their best, and with Tony’s connections, they were granted access.

Stepping down the grand staircase, Steve felt all eyes on him. He paid them no mind, the thought of you the only occupant of his racing mind. Gazing over the crowd, Steve spotted you to the side, occupied in a chatter.

Taking deliberate steps, Steve soon found himself behind you. He admired your gown and hair, it entranced him. You still hadn’t registered his presence, even when your partner had ceased chatting and was now staring at him.

With a tap on your shoulder, he was taken away as immediately as you spun around. Steve took in your whole image; your dolled-up face, your intricate dress, your styled hair. It left him floored.

You always did manage to take his breath away. Was this what he had been missing out all this time?

Taking your unoccupied hand, Steve pressed a small kiss before meeting your eyes.

“May I have this dance?”

Giving away your drink, you took his hand as he pulled your towards the centre, taking space among the crowd. A slow number started, and before you realized, you were swept in a slow dance. It didn’t take long before you felt the sensation of his two left feet.

“Sorry, a hundred years and you’d think I’d know how to dance,” he said.

A small smile lightened your face. Steve savoured it all he could. Gulping, he took the first step.

“I’m... sorry for what I’ve done. I realize now that you were right,” he started. “I thought I was protecting you, but now I see that all it did was push you away. You have all the rights to be mad at me. I was being an idiot, a selfish one. I didn’t think about how you felt about it.”

You winced. Steve had stepped on your toes again. He murmured an apology, resorting to swaying instead.

“Can we start again? No more hiding. No more disguises,” he breathed, keeping his eyes locked on yours. “ We can meet your friends, you can meet mine. Bucky’s been pestering me to bring you to the compound, he wants to meet you.”

You laughed. How Steve had missed the tune.

“How can I make it up to you? How do you want to take the first step? A picnic at Central Park? Dinner at the compound? A trip to the beach?”

You seemed to contemplate, a thoughtful look on your face. You both failed to realize all the eyes on you two.

“How about now?”

“Right here? Right now?” he asked.

“Yes, right here, right now,” you said, determined.

Without hesitation —no more— Steve dived in, planting a kiss on your wine-coloured lips for the whole world to see. Your first kiss in public, yet it felt as if it was only the two of you there, lost in the moment.

You both didn’t notice the gasping crowd nor the clicks of cameras from photographers nor the booming laughter of Tony Stark. You both only felt the other in your orbit, and that was all that mattered.

“Can you put that down? You’ve been staring at it for the past hour.”

You pouted, setting the frame on the side table, where it has been designated since its publication.

“I can’t help it, I think it’s a good shot. Don’t you think so, Alpine?” you petted the snowy white cat lazing on the arm of the sofa. Its’ purrs intensified.

“Dinner’s ready!” Bucky shouted.

You and Steve left the room, joining the others in the dining room for dinner. On the side table, the framed article sat neatly, showcasing the tale of the famed occurrence that took place at a charity gala.

‘America’s Girl: The Modern Woman of The Captain’s Dreams.’

Fin.

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fanfiction #fluff #angst #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers angst #happyhoelentinesday2021

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petite-ely · 3 years

Text

Afraid // JJ Maybank

Six - Too much to risk

Pairing: JJ Maybank x fem routledge! reader

Warnings: Mention gun, being shot at, swearing, slight mention of death, maybe some mistakes oopsie, tell me if I missed something

Description: A small improvised visits by Petekin leads to a hectic afternoon in the marsh.

A/n : Hellooo guys, gals and pals, this is quite a long part. I really wanted to finish the first episode. also I really don’t know how to had a little read mor thing I don’t know how. Sorry! hope you like it!

Previously next

Afraid masterlist

gif by @robinsbuckly

Song recommendation

It was now far later in the morning, meaning the sun had fully risen and it was a much more reasonable hour to be up at. JJ had left a while ago and John B was still peacefully sleeping (and loudly snoring). Y/n hadn’t been able to go to sleep after her talk with the blond boy and she was now sitting on the couch reading her book (actually reading this time). So, when she heard the front door open, she didn’t bother looking up, assuming it was one of her friends. Who else would just come in like that anyway?

"Hey, there’s coffee made in the kitchen if you want any,” she said, still not pulling her gaze of off her book.

“That’s kind of you to offer, but I’ve already had two cups this morning, I don’t think it would be reasonable for me to have more.” Y/n’s book fell to the ground.

“Sheriff Peterkin, I’m so sorry. I-I thought you were someone else-” she got up from her seat, “-do you, do you need anything, water or uh-”

“You don’t have to bother sweetheart, I’m not planning on staying that long. I just want to talk for a bit,” answered the adult.

“Okay,” she took a pause to swallow. “I’ll go get John B.”

“If you don’t mind, I’ll go get him myself.” Y/n nodded, watching as she disappeared into the hallway leading to her brother’s room.

She started pacing around the living room, ferociously biting the nails on her left hand. It wasn’t every day a cop showed up in your house. She had absolutely no idea why Peterkin would want to talk. Actually, she had about 25 different ideas, starting with the fact her uncle hadn’t been on the island for about 3 months. And the party last night, what if she knew about the gun? Would JJ be in trouble? Whatever it was, it wasn’t good, that she was certain of it.

The conversation went on for much longer than expected. Basically, Peterkin knew about their uncle being awol and she offered to help get dcs off of their back for a while if they helped her in return. She had also mentioned that it wouldn’t be good if they had seen a shipwreck, which of course they denied despite that being actually true. Y/n didn’t fully understand what Peterkin meant. But she knew that it meant there was something valuable in that boat. And Jonh B knew it too. Yet, he was afraid, which was understandable, considering everything. They were pretty much guaranteed to be put in foster care if they got caught. Not good at all.

“You know what? I'm calling it off,” announced John B.

Y/n raised her head from her sketchbook, dropping her pencil on the low table in front of her to listen to what her brother had to say. She had been drawing silently while the other pogues, all sitting in different ridiculous positions across the backyard, talked and did their own things. She was only half listening to what they were saying, sketching messily the outline of the château. It wasn't very good, but it was calming to do. When she heard the seriousness in her brother’s tone, she closed her sketchbook, otherwise she’d be too distracted.

“Peterkin told us that if we stayed out of the marsh, she’d help with dcs.” The girl grimaced remembering the woman’s words.

“And you believed her?” “Yes, JJ I believed her.”

“You really think that she’d help us?” asked y/n. “It’s been more than 6 months, bird. If she really wanted to help, she would have helped earlier, no?”

“Yeah, she’s a cop, an actual cop. And you think she’s telling the truth?” added JJ.

“Look,” John B glanced at y/n. “All we gotta do is stay out of the marsh for a couple days and she’ll help us.”

“I know, I was there.” Kiara snickered softly at her friend’s words. “But I don’t know, I feel like we’re getting tricked or something. What if she’s like trying to lure us out of there-” she gestured to the water behind them, “-because there’s something she doesn’t want us to see, uh? What if it’s about dad?”

J.B rubbed the back of his neck before turning his body slightly to face the ocean. “Look,” he addressed his sister. “I get that you’re curious and you want to know what’s down there, but I'm only trying to do what’s best for us. And I think it would be better if we listened to Peterkin. I’m just trying to keep you safe, to protect you, bug.” His voice softened as he finished his sentence.

“And it didn’t help that JJ was shooting a gun last night!” Y/n raised her eyebrows at Pope, her face clearly showing intrigue. She wondered where this conversation would lead, a fight between the two boys most likely. Her gaze shifted to JJ who seemed annoyed at the Routledge boy’s words.

“You know what, I should’ve let Topper drown your ass.” John B laughed. “Topper was gonna drown me?” “Sure looked like it.”

“Boys can you plea-” Y/n tried to stop the small bickers, miserably failing as her brother interrupted her. “Funny.” A loud sigh escaped the girl’s lips and Kiara beside her pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Have you looked in a mirror?” “Tell me some more. Come on.” “They always win don’t they, man?”

“Kooks versus pogues. They always, always win!” You could hear the frustration dripping from his voice. Which was understandable. He had a point, kooks always won, it was time for a change.

“Goddamn!” “Look, it’s okay!” Kie tried to reassure him. “No, it’s not okay!”

“He’s right,” agreed y/n. “They always win, or find a way to avoid the consequences.”

“Exactly, they don’t want us to go down into the marsh, that means there's something valuable down there and you know it.” He said to John B. “I know you do.”

“And I understand why you wouldn’t want to go,” he pointed to Pope. “You’re the golden boy, you got way too much to risk. And you,” he turned to Kiara. “I mean you’re already rich as fuck anyway.” Okay, that was an exaggeration.

“Why would you bother.”

“But us, you, me and y/n, we’ve got nothing to lose!” His eyes glowed with something y/n hadn’t seen in him in a long time. Hope. It made her sad to think about how JJ really had nothing in his life besides the pogues. But if he was hopeful, then maybe, maybe...

“We really don’t.” “Yes, we do have something to lose.”

“If something goes wrong and dcs comes in, y/n and I would be brought to the mainland in foster care. That means placed with families who probably only care about the check that comes in every month and her and I getting separated from one another and from you guys.”

Y/n thought about what her brother had just said. He had a point, if things went wrong, they could lose everything. Each other mainly and the pogues. It was the worst-case scenario. But if they didn’t get caught, it would make their life so much better. Was it worth all the risk though? That was the question.

“Do you understand what that means? How horrible it would be?” The girl got up from her seat and went to stand next to her brother. “I do,” she said. “I understand, bird.”

“I know that you’re scared and so am I. It’s a pretty big risk. If we get caught, we’re fucked, but listen to what JJ has to say. I think that it might be worth the risk. And if we do get caught-,” she put her hand on his shoulder and turned him around so that he faced her, “we’ll find a way to find each other again. We’re Routledges, we always find a way to solve our problems, don’t we?” Her hand squeezed his shoulder softly. “We’re gonna be alright, bird.”

A small smile drew itself on John B’s lips. “So, what’s the plan,” he said to JJ.

“You got the key to Cameron’s big boat, right?” “No,” J. B’s face scrunched in disagreement.

“There’s scuba gear. We borrow that and then we go down to the wreck this afternoon and that’s what’s gonna save you, man,” exclaimed JJ. “You don’t see rich kids going into foster care, do you?”

Y/n breathed out loudly. She was scared as hell. This was going to be pretty tricky, but she knew something was down there. And if it wasn’t money or something like that, then it was something related to her dad’s disappearance. She could feel it deep into her soul.

>>>

“This is empty, you took empty tanks,” announced Kiara to the group as she furrowed through the bag of oxygen tanks.

Y/n put her head in her hands. Their plan had seemed so perfect and now they didn’t have the one thing they needed for it to work.

“Okay this one’s a quarter full. It’s enough for one of us.” “Love it when a plan comes together.”

“Does anybody know how to dive?” asked the brunette but only to be answered by a chorus of shrugs and denying nods. “Anybody?”

“It’s kind of a kook sport,” JJ looked at her.

“I, … I read about it,” tried Pope.

“Great, Pope read about it, now someone’s gonna die,” exclaimed Kie dramatically.

“Look.” JJ’s gaze circled the group of friends. “You put the thing in your mouth and you breathe. How hard can it be?”

“I don’t think it’s that simple,” confessed y/n.

“Yeah,” agreed Pope. “If you come up too fast, Nitrogen gets in your blood and you get the bends.”

The girl’s eyes widened. She remembered a book she had read a while ago where one of the characters had the decompression sickness (and how tragic their death was).

“Bends like bend over?” JJ joked as he bent his body in a way to stick his butt up in the air. Typical JJ joke, weird and somehow always a bit sexual. Y/n slapped his arm as a way to tell him off.

“JJ, the bends is deadly,” she had a stern expression, “it kills you.” “Oh, right.”

“I can- I can dive,” announced J.B. “Yeah, you can dive I’m cool with that.” “Since when can you dive?”

“No, you can’t dive,” scoffed his sister. “I’ll do it, it’s fine.” “What? The hell?”

“Let’s do some calculations real quick.” Pope pulled out a pen and started writing some numbers. Y/n got up from her seat and went to stand beside him. “So, that boat’s about 30 feet down.” “okay.” “So, it’ll take about 25 minutes at most at that depth.” “Twenty-five.” “Which means you need to make your safety stop at about... 10 feet. Alright? For two minutes.” “Ten feet, two minutes got it.”

They all watched as Kiara jumped straight into the water, her shirt already removed. “Uh, what was that all about?” “I don’t know, but I liked it, a lot.” y/n nudged her brother on the shoulder to get him to stop staring. He cleared his throat.

“Uh, so.” “All righty.”

She sat down on the edge of the boat, waiting for her friend to resurface from underwater. “Yeah. Uh, when you- when you’re down there, you look for the cargo hold. You stick this thing inside and you twist and pull, okay,” explained JJ. “Stick it in, twist and pull.”

“You okay?” asked y/n, while the boys kept on rambling. “Needed a swim?” Kiara rolled her eyes, a small smile on her face.

“Hey!” she called to guys, John b more specifically. “I tied my t-shirt to the anchor about ten feet down. It’s where you need to do your safety stop.”

The Routledge girl admired her friend in the water. Her body moving gracefully as she swam back towards the boat. She seemed so, at ease. It used to be that way for her too, but now, even looking into the darkest part of the water gave her a feeling of vertigo. She wondered if she could still swim as good as she used to. It had been almost a year since the last time she had dove right into the marsh. It felt so far away. If only she was braver.

She hadn’t realised she had completely zoned out until she heard JJ speak. “Zen. Think Zen, you know.” She joined the group on the other side of the hms, her brother already suited for his dive.

“Hey, if we get caught out here in the marsh we’re basically screwed, so,” reminded Pope, “better get a move on.” “Copy that.”

Kiara got up and planted a small kiss on J. B’s cheek. Y/n looked at the two boys next to her with a confused expression. They both shrugged in answer, clearly just as confused as she was. “Diver down?” “Diver down.” She watched as his figure disappeared slowly into the water.

“All right.” “See ya, dude.”

She went to sit next to Kie. “I only love him as a brother,” she mocked her friend. “Yeah right, my ass.”

“It’s just a small kiss y/n/n, it doesn’t mean anything. I still mean what I said yesterday. It’s just that,” she took a pause, her eyes squinting at the sun, “I’m just worried for him, you know he’s going through a lot and then there’s the shipwreck and all.”

“Uh huh, I totally get what you mean,” ironized y/n. “Shut up,” Kie nudged her with her elbow. “No, but seriously-” started the girl before being interrupted by the sound of a police siren behind her.

“Shit, guys.” “Guys, that’s the police.”

“Oh no, no, no, no, no, that is not good. Not good at all.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” “Yep that’s the police.” “Just act fricking normal.”

Anxiety bubbled at the pit of y/n’s stomach. Hopefully he wouldn’t recognize her, otherwise she was dead. So dead. She sat down beside Kiara in a somewhat natural position, her legs crossed to keep them from bouncing.

The police boat parked itself beside the hms. Officer Shoupe behind the wheel. “Evenin’ officers,” greeted Pope. “Evening.”

“How you kids doin’ ,” asked Shoupe. “You know the marsh is closed.”

“No.” “No.” “No, wow.” “I didn’t know that.” They all feigned ignorance, hoping to fool the two adults. “Why- why is it closed?” questioned Pope, adjusting his cap nervously.

“Well, we’re conducting a search out here,” informed the man. “Boat went down.” “Oh.” “Oh, no.”

“Seen’ anything?” asked the deputy.

“No.” “No, boats. No.” Y/n’s fingers tapped rhythmically on the boat, trying to keep herself from looking at her brother in the water.

“Where’s your friend you always hang with?” The pace of the rhythm fastened. “He here?” She opened her mouth, trying to think of a good excuse for the missing presence of her brother, but nothing came out.

“He’s working,” lied Kie. All of their heads nodded softly.

“I’m gonna check your little boat out,” announced Shoupe before hopping on the hms. “Yeah.” “Yeah, hop aboard.” The rhythm stopped, y/n’s nails digging into her palms.

He picked up a safety jacket. “You got another one of these?” “Yeah, yeah.”

“Of course, it’s uh, it’s in the hold,” JJ pointed to where the girls were seated. They both got up quickly. “Show him,” instructed Kie. Y/n’s joints were turning white.

“Okay.” JJ opened the hold and pulled out one of the jackets. “Yeah, here we go.” “All right.” The latch closed loudly. Shoupe’s gaze inspected the teens suspiciously. The tension could be cut with a knife.

He climbed on the flat part of the boat. “Be careful.” “Be careful out there, you don’t want to slip.”

He put his sunglasses on, staring at the exact place where John B and the ship were. The pogues exchanged worried glances. Hopefully, he wouldn’t see anything. He stood on the very edge of the boat, his figure towering over the water of the marsh.

“All right,” he finally turned around. Y/n breathed again. “All right.” “All right.”

“Beautiful day, innit?” “Sure is.”

“You let us know if you see anything on your way out,” he ordered as he started the engine. “Will do, will do.”

“We’ll be gone soon, sir.” “Yes, you will,” finally said the man before he vogued away.

Once he was far enough, the group hurried to the side of the boat, all worried about their friend. He’d been under for quite a long time now, there was no way he had any air left.

“He’s definitely out of air,” declared Pope.

At that exact moment, John B surged out of the water. Y/n felt relief take over her body. She felt her whole body unclench and let go of the grip her nails had in her hand.

“There he is!” Exclaimed JJ. “Oh god, Jesus Christ.”

“God damn it, Bird. I’m so glad you’re okay,” spoke y/n.

“Don’t scare us like that!” All of the pogues exclaimed, all so happy that their friend was all right.

“How’d it go down there?” wondered JJ. “Uh,” John b groaned and his sister hurried to the side of the boat to help him get in.

“Did you find anything?”

“Did I find anything?” He repeated throwing a large duffel bag onto the boat.

“Yeah there we go, that’s my boy!” JJ exclaimed excitedly.

“Are you okay?” Y/n asked as he coughed rather loudly. “Yeah, I’m good, but I ran out of air.” Her eyebrows scrunched together on her forehead. God, they were so lucky, what if J.B had ran out of air earlier? Or what if Shoupe had figured out what they were doing? Things could have gotten so bad.

But they didn’t, the girl reminded herself.

“You scared the shit out of me,” confessed Kiara, though it sounded more like a reproach.

“Yeah, same for me,” replied y/n. “Need a hand?” she stuck her hand out at him which he gladly took. The contact of the water with the cuts her nails had made in her hands burned, but she clenched her jaw and ignored the pain. She didn’t want to bother anyone.

“Yeah, the cops were up here but uh, took care of ‘em,” informed Pope.

“My bad.” “You’re all good.” “Yeah, you kinda missed the show, brother.”

“Hey guys?” Kiara’s voice was tinted with worry. “Guys, bogey, two o-clock.”

“What?” They all turned in the direction she was referring to. In the distance they noticed a strange looking boat heading towards them.

“Do you recognize that boat?”

“I’ve never seen it.” Kie put her hand above her eyes to hide herself from the sun. “What are they doing back here? The marsh is closed.”

“Honestly, they could ask us the same thing,” pointed y/n.

“Well, I think it would be better if we didn’t stick around and find out,” said JJ.

“JJ, get the bowline.” “Yeah.”

“Should we wait on ‘em?” asked Pope.

“Uh, I don’t think that would be a great idea,” responded y/n. The boat was coming in very fast and the people driving it looked angry and dangerous. It was much safer to just leave. “Go get the stern, go!” Hurried John B.

The blonde pulled the rope as fast as he possibly could. “Guys, don’t wait for me. Go,” he said. Y/n inspected the unknown boat in the distance, nothing about it seemed familiar. Who could these people be? And what did they want from them? “Let’s go.”

She kept her eyes glued to it as the motor started. “I have a really bad feeling about this,” she confessed, turning her head to John B. behind the wheel. “Yeah, I don’t like this either,” agreed Pope.

“Are they coming for us?” asked JJ. “Sure looks like it.”

“Maybe they’re fishing?” proposed Pope. Y/n’s gaze paused on the two men. They were intimidating, to say the least. And their eyes, both had looks filled with something threatening. It wasn’t anger or hatred, no, it was the eyes of people who would do anything to get what they wanted and that was scary.

“Go, go, go, go!” “Go into the marsh.” “Let’s go!”

“I’m going. Act natural,” stated John B as he directed the hms towards the nearest channel.

The white boat sped up, the motor roaring loudly. “Hey guys, they’re following us,” announced y/n. “Oh, this can’t be good.” “Shit”

“Dude, you gotta go faster!” “I’m going!” “Gun it!”

The sound of a gun shooting in the air echoed in the silence of the marsh. The pogues all went down instinctively. “Holy shit, guys!” “Oh my fucking god, what the fuck!”

JJ grabbed the back of y/n’s shirt with his hand, bringing her closer to him. “John b get down!” almost hissed the girl. Another shot fired, y/n clung onto JJ.

“Oh my god, we’re gonna die!” yelled Pope. A third shot fired. Y/n’s eyes caught the net at the back of the boat and an idea sparked in her head. She looked at Kiara, who clearly had thought of the same thing.

“Pope, move,” ordered the brunette as her friend stood to go grab the green net. Another shot flew into the air beside her, the bullet barely missing her.

“Get down, y/n!” shouted her brother desperately. She headed towards the back of the boat and threw the net into the water. It slid down the current and got caught right into the motor of the men’s boat, making the engine come to a halt abruptly. It clanged loudly and the two men shouted in anger. A sigh of relief left the girl’s lips. Her plan had worked.

“Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!” hurried Pope. A last gunshot was heard but the hms was too far away to be reached.

“Oh my god!” “Whew!” The pogues all cheered and laughed at their small victory. They were all so glad to be away from these men and all in one piece. Kiara pulled y/n into a hug.

“Y/n, don’t you ever do something like that again. You fucking scared the crap out of me,” said John B as they approached the dock of the château. “I can’t promise anything. Who knows when someone else will shoot at us?”

They all hurried themselves onto the dock, excited to know the content of the bag. “What do you guys think it is?” “Maybe it’s like jewelry? Would be a weird place to keep it but who knows?” “Gotta be money, right?”

“That or a couple of keys with street value to the low- to mid-mils!” JJ’s eyes glistened with excitement. Y/n smiled softly.

“Can we please just open the bag?” burst Pope. The group all started at him.

“Wow Pope,” y/n giggled. “That was a rare outburst of emotions.”

“You guys are literally killing me with anticipation. Open the bag. We almost died over this.”

John B. pulled out a smaller bag which contained a metal canister. Every pair of eyes was fixed onto it as he pried it open and revealed a compass. Y/n kneeled next to her brother not believing what she was seeing. They exchanged a look, neither of them saying anything. They both knew what that object was and what it meant to their father, but what the hell was it doing there?

“Oh, wow. Yup, that’s about right.” Pope was clearly disappointed by their findings. “Good job, everybody. We found a compass.” Y/n raised a trembling hand to the compass, carefully taking it into her own hands to examine it. Was this really what she thought it was? How could it be? It didn’t make any sense.

JJ removed his hat in frustration. “Dude, what? It’s not worth anything.”

A small smile creeped on Jonh b’s face, his eyes still not looking away from the compass. “This was,” he started.

“This was our father’s,” completed y/n.

Taglist:

@kaelyn-lobrutto24 @poguestyle17 @im-a-stranger-thing @lasnaro @thoughtsofthestars @briandaflores19 @lunaposey @allycat449-blog @ifilwtmfc @kitty084 @coloradogirl07 @ponyboys-sunsets @chaoticbisous @p0gue420 @sloaneemily @babygal-babygal

Tell me if you wanna be added or removed!

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aphrodite-would-be-proud · 3 years

Note

hello! how are you? i hope you're doing fine, um i'm here because i wanted to ask if you can write about armin falling in love with someone who's related to art, like a painter and suddenly discovering a whole new world. i will be so happy if you can do it.

thank you and please, stay healthy! 💗

Hi💛 of course! I really love that idea! Plus as a painter myself the struggle is real man, just yesterday i was having an overwhelming meltdown over what type of brushes to buy.

You seem really lovely so here's a mini fic! 🌸

Armin falling in love with a Painter!reader

{ Armin x reader | tw: none | fluff, pinning | modern }

{ "The Cathedral of Saint Jacques le Mineur, Liege" 1846 by Jenaro Pérez Villaamil 1807 - 1854 }

Reading is Armin's best friend, it always has been. It kept him company on countless sleepless nights as a child, and now it offered the escape his soul needed when overwhelmed with troubles of being a living human in this current world.

"It's just captivating," he explained to you one day while walking together, happily clutching the bags of books he just baught. You like how they smell. For someone who reads a lot, he surely seems to be out of words when it comes to describing things he's passionate about.

The winds picks up, your steps slow down. Armin is staring at your face, but it's not your eyes he's looking at. You smile and it brings him back to reality, he looks away, shifting his weight from one leg to the other.

You offer to hold some of the heavy bags for him, he gives a warm smile. You think the faint color on his cheek is a really nice shade of pink, it looks lovely under the sun.

The more he took you with him on trips to the far away bookshop near the Riverside, the more you started to understand how a rearranging of words can pull him inside an entirely different world.

It was like he could be his true self when there, carefully reading the description at the back of the books. Frowning whenever he finds a review instead of a summary. you didn't mind tho, because it ment he'd have to read a few pages into the book and the shop had a nice corner couch you two would sit in.

He'd apologise for troubling you, you'd say he's never a bother for you that and reassure him that you enjoyed every last second.

Ah, there it is, that nice shade of pink again.

In some way he managed to share his love for books with you, as you spend entire afternoons just sitting near each other. Your sketchbook in hand, the sound of your pencil lightly scratching the paper. Him next to you, his book in hand and reading just loud enough for you to hear.

You think he has a nice voice, so you say it out loud. For the rest of the evening, he stuttered through half the book.

You laugh at the funny moments together, be it a clever joke the author weaved in a serious moment or an incredibly redundant cliche trope that while predictable, was still as enticing.

He would always look at you whenever you let a chuckle escape, staring just for a couple seconds longer than necessary.

That sketch ended up getting turned into a painting when Armin walked you home that day.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to!"

Blue glass shards are scattered on the table and floor, what remained of Armin's favourite mug. The puddle of coffee already sweeping into the canvas you left to dry there this morning.

It took you three days just for the layering.

It was a big canvas, cotton paper and natural wood. It cost a lot.

You know this feeling when you're so so broken about something that your brain just skips the denial and anger and jumps straight into depression? To say you were mad was an underestimated, and rightfully so.

Armin is trying to remove the coffee stains with the nearest towel he could find, it only smudges the paint more.

He looks terrfied.

"It was an accident I swear, I'd never..." his voice takes a higher pitch, hands shaking. "I'd never, ever mean to do this...I..." he hiccups, Voice quivering..

And just like that, all you anger fades away.

"Armin, hey" you take a step closer, carefully avoiding the broken glass.

He doesn't look at you, he's still desperate wiping the canvas. "I'll fix it, please I'll figure out a way."

The clutch he has on the towel only intensifies when you put your hand on his shoulder. "It's okay," you say "it's fine really, look at me."

And he does, with shame filled eyes. "No no no, it's not. I ruined it, your worked so hard on this and I just..." He looks down "it's NOT okay."

"Yes it is." You try to guide him away from the glass. "That's just a material object Armin, what's important is that you're okay."

He reluctantly follows, you both sit on the couch. His hands are clutching his knees. "I'm really sorry, it's okay if you want to yell at me you have the right to."

You cup his face in your hands, "don't say that, that's not true. It was an accident, I'd never ever yell at you."

Shock is clear in his eyes, his arms leave his knees to wrap around you, pulling you closer. His face buried in your shoulder. You stroke his back. Both of you stay like this for a long while, neither of you seems to want to let go.

At night, when he's getting ready to leave and go back home. You walk him to the door and he kisses your cheek as a goodbye.

the shade of pink you grew to love really goes along with his smile.

"Close your eyes and hold out your hand."

With the sparkle in his blue eyes and his hands hiding something behind his back, how could you say no.

So you do, and you feel his hand brushing against yours before a light weight is dropped on your palms. He gives you the okay so you open your eyes, an envelope.

It's cream white with a straw ribbon around it, it looks too good to open but you do anyway.

"Is that..." his smile grows as you pull out the card and paper inside, "a membership card."

"For the art course you've been saving up for! You seemed really excited when talking about it." He takes a step closer, tilting his head to the side as his blond hair brush against his neck. "Do you like it?"

"Armin I love it!" You're so happy that you don't dwell on it before pulling him into a hug, he eagrly hugs back and his hand lingers on you when you pull away. "But...isn't it too expensive ? How did you.."

His lips press into a thin line as he looks to the side, "don't worry about it, I've been also saving for a different reason."

Oh...yeah you know the reason, Eren’s been telling it to everyone after all. The three of them agreed to go on a trip overseas, even Mikasa seemed genuinely excited.

You look at him, you look at the envelope containing the art course of your dreams, you put the card back inside.

"I can't, " you hold it out for him, "you can still return this, they're very lean with their policies."

He doesn't take it. "Yes, yes you can. This isn't just because I feel bad for what i did, it's because..." he holds your hand in his, "because I want you to have it, you deserve the world and if i can I'd give it to you."

"But what about Mikasa and Eren, you know they've been looking forward for this."

"They'll understand that i can't come, and if they don't it's okay, they'll still enjoy it by themselves." He cups your face, looking at you like you're the only person in the world, "It's just a material thing after all, you aren't."

Armin likes to get out of his comfort zone evey once in a while, he likes to try new things no matter how intimidating they look.

Which is why, seeing him hesitantly entering the art classroom was not a surprise. His wide eyes switching their focuses between all the different objects in the room, from the canvas with a glaze shine on them, ready to get painted. Or the different shapes and sizes or brushes, the ones near the water jars looking softer than the rest.

You should've seen this coming, with Eren and Mikasa away on their trip, Armin has been hanging around you all the time. Not that you're complaining.

Looking at your still drying canvas, you quickly cleaned off your brush before using a towel to wipe your hands and elbows from paint stains.

"Armin," you said, amusement in your voice at seeing the blond out of his usual element. His curious eyes focus on you and he says a small hi with a wave.

You walk him through the basics, he nods while you explain the pros and cons of each paint type, what type of paintings it goes with and which techniques are the most common.

After a couple minutes of him asking you to show him to use certain things and hold some brushes, he settles down for watercolors. You think it's adorably fitting.

While picking his brushes, you explain how in order to not damage the cotton papers, they have the softest hairs. To make your point, you take his arm in your hand and run a soft brush against his palm. He laughs softly saying it tickles, it's contagious and you're laughing too soon.

He picks the seat next to you, looking lost with the short brush in his hand and the already wet canvase. But it's a nice kind of lost, like the way a child would look at a new toy.

While he expriments at the corner of the canvas with different brushes and swipes the colors, other people start filling the room and soon enough everyone has taken their seats.

The instructer begans setting up today's study object, a couple of pink Camellias in a tinted turquoise vase, creating a nise color contrast.

You stare at them for a while, wondering where did you see that fimilar faint of pink. The question answers itself when Armin taps your shoulder and ask how to start layering the paint

It's around sunset when the two of you are walking together, he's talking about all the new things he never knew about art that he just discovered today. You're listening to him while nodding occasionally, it's when he stops mid-rant that you look at him.

"I just realised something" he says, before facing you.

"Oh? And what is it"

He looks at you, really looks at you. The sun is shining behind you as it says its last goodbyes for the day, making you look heavenly. "I realised that...I'm deeply in love with you"

#Armin #armin arlet x reader #armin x reader #armin x y/n #armin arlert #armin reader #armin🕯#mini fic #fluff #painter!reader #i like this :)#pinning #friends to lovers?#aot #snk #aot x reader #snk x reader

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lovelykhaleesiii · 3 years

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More than a Friend

HEADCANON

PAIRING: Adult!Bill Denbrough x fem!Reader

Words: 1228

Summary: Inseparable in the past during your time in the Losers Club, you find yourself years later in Derry the same town you eagerly fled... Now reunited with close friends and an old flame.

Warnings: pure fucking fluff

A/N - as if no one saw this one coming HA... Happy to say I’m back and plan to make imagines more of a regular thing. Taking requests for this man and Tom Holland characters :) (I’m discontinuing previous imagines so don't ask for new chapters sorry x)

Receiving the call from Mike Hanlon was something you’d been dreading in your distant memory, and had sudden sinking feeling upon hearing his voice.

As Mike explained the details of the recent happenings in your hometown Derry, the memories of your childhood jolted back into your mind as you pictured the Losers Club. In addition to Mike, there was Eddie, Richie, Ben, Beverley and Bill…

Bill, you whispered… Your once partner in crime and longtime childhood friend. Besides Beverly being the closest friend you had in the group, both Bill and you shared this bond that was to some degree, absent with the rest.

He understood you in ways the others lacked. You found that he was much more mature than most boys his age.

In return, he relied on you for sole support, especially after the disappearance of Georgie.

The memories began to flood your mind: you were the one that would often visit Bill on days he didn’t expect to see anyone. It was you that made him laugh and smile amid the times he thought that would be the last thing he’d achieve. You genuinely made him happy, as he did for you.

As the call ended, you knew there was no choice however to uphold the vow you had all made 27 years ago. You were just hoping that same old Bill would uphold his end…

Returning to Derry sent shivers through your body the moment you drove in. As the minutes went by, slowly your memory began to piece itself together like a puzzle… The more the memories you shared with Bill began to fill your mind, feeling a small sense of excitement despite the unfortunate reason for your return.

Walking into the diner where Mike had made reservations for the inevitable reunion, and being directed towards a group of strange adults, you were the last to arrive.

Everyone made their way towards you, ecstatic that you’d managed to make it.

First Beverly rushed to your side, embracing you in her arms, the next was Eddie who still seemed quite anxious meeting you despite being to hell and back with him. Then Richie followed, cracking a joke on how much of a gorgeous woman you’d grown into from the tomboy he had envisioned. Mike was relieved the most to see you, grateful you upheld the promise… And of course, Bill.

He stood in the back, as he watched you approaching them from afar. He seemed shocked to say the least, however he had changed himself, he was a man now. Yet his mesmerising blue eyes, still fed that familiarity.

“Y-Y/N, God. You-You’ve grown… I-I��m really glad y-you came.” He breathlessly stuttered: and just then it had clicked that Bill did stutter as a child, however that never phased you before nor did it now.

“Likewise… You look good, Bill.”

For a brief moment you both just stood still and stared mesmerised in the presence of one another. You both were taking in each other’s friendly gaze, smiling brightly up at each other, as he firmly held you in what was initially a friendly hug.

“Uhh-You guys good over there?” Richie exclaimed, breaking the intimate silence between you two.

Seating yourselves, despite sitting apart you’d caught glances of Bill watching you as you’d watch him.

You had to admit to yourself, Bill was as handsome as ever. He’d obviously grown in height and size, he was quite muscular and well-groomed. He’d grown into his features, and yet he didn’t feel at all like a complete stranger.

And amongst Beverly and yourself, after having noticed your tendencies to stop and stare at Bill, even she agreed that Bill had aged finely.

Amongst the long-overdue conversations during dinner, you’d realised that you hadn’t really been separated from Bill all along.

“Those were all my books… I-I can’t believe y-you read them without kn-knowing-”

As you caught up in each others life-stories, you hadn’t realised just how much you’d missed him, all these years apart.

As the haunting events of Pennywise unfolded, Bill being the same leader he was naturally matured to be, was protective… Especially over you.

He absolutely hated seeing you frightened, sad, or distraught, and would want you to confide in him always. As children, he was there even when you didn’t realise you needed that shoulder to cry on, and despite the distance of growing up apart, he was still there to guard you.

Throughout this unwanted adventure, it seemed Bill and you would always find your way back to one another. If he was in trouble, you were there, vice versa.

At one point you’d found yourself sitting on the curb alongside Bill, after finding your token (which btw is a sketch Bill drew of you, that you’d kept in the clubhouse) facing the building he’d once called home. You knew how difficult it was for him to be there, the unforgettable tragedy of Georgie was something Bill just could not escape and you’d helped him come to terms with that.

“Y-You were always th-there for me, Y/N. I never s-said anything b-before but, you really did h-have a special p-place in m-my heart.”

“I’m just sorry I didn’t stick around, Bill… No one should ever go through what you went through with Georgie,” You softly responded, instinctively caressing his broad back, feeling his muscles relax under your touch.

“I-I should’ve though… I-I wanted to after y-you left, Y/N. Y-You were m-more than just a friend b-but I was too late.”

Without even having to explain himself further, you knew. You knew exactly what Bill meant and where this conversation was going… You’d felt the same. In fact, you were devastated when you’d left.

Having been caught up in your thoughts, you hadn’t realised Bill gradually closing in on you, as you felt his hand against your cheek, your lips locking into a passionate kiss.

“That was truly overdue-” You joked, smiling childishly at one another, as he helped you up effortlessly, not wanting to keep the others wondering and waiting.

Returning to the Neibolt House, you’d noticed that Bill kept a close eye on you, making sure he was always in lead of you, as means of taking precautions. He hated the fact that you with the rest of the gang had accompanied him.

Once you’d reached the sewers beneath Derry, in the place Pennywise had inhabited, you did however get separated from one another and it killed Bill.

Each in your own nightmares, he was desperate to escape.

Once again reuniting, he made sure he was in close proximity of you.

Having finally defeated Pennywise (Eddie still alive), you’d never felt this deep sense of relief before, as you both were now free to be in each other’s company.

Everyone knew and was expecting you two to come to terms with your feelings, accepting the mutual love that was there.

“We’ve been knew guys, we knew it from the moment you’d first started walking each other home from school!” Richie exclaimed, sighing with relief as if he was the ultimate matchmaker.

This time leaving Derry wasn’t so despairing, for you were not alone… Bill was and will now always be by your side, no matter what you’d face.

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miraculousmarifan · 3 years

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Felinette Month 2020 - Day 12: Reunion

The prompts on @felinettenovember are gold and everyone should check out what the others are doing for this month!

Theirs are also most likely on time, and this one is only 3 minutes away from being posted on the wrong day... but it’s still the right day for me!

Approximately 3100 words of absolute Lila salt. Her character is poorly enough written in the show that I had to make her villainy almost cartoonish to a certain degree.

Also before anyone takes my word for it at the silk part, just know I have the bare minimum of knowledge about the intricacies of fabric as I’m just a data analyst. I did however read a really interesting article earlier this year discussing the difference in modern and ancient forms of fabrics (it was specifically discussing cotton, if I remember correctly) and how industrialization of fabric production had drastically reduced both the initial quality of the fabric and the durability. Which they were using as an explanation of why it’s still possible to find cloth artifacts in archeology, whereas it’s suspected that the “same” fabric now wouldn’t have survived due to the poorer quality. So I willy-nilly applied this logic to silk weaving. If you are an expert in this stuff and want to pass along actual knowledge, I’d love to hear about it.

Marinette had found that going to university for fashion design was both easier and harder than it had been doing it during school. There were similarities with the existence of homework and specific class times to schedule around. Working at a smaller fashion house had been another beast entirely. Marinette had been offered a 5 year contract as the only pupil to the head designer, working both with the team of designers and working apart from them. Her ideas first needed to gain the approval from the head designer before she could put them through peer review with the team. She was required to have her designs be closer to a final product before she would get approval to proceed to peer review than the designs of many designers on the team had after multiple reviews. Marinette kept her head high, as her designs often went through fewer changes in the review stage as a result of this additional standard.

However with less than 10 designers doing all stages of the process, from researching ideas and sketching to actually assembling the final product and altering them for the models that would wear it, they were always busy. As a result, Marinette found herself more devoted to work outside of their standard hours, sketching variations on most outfits for potential changes she thought may be suggested while she sat at home.

At 25, Marinette found herself married to her career, with only two nights per week that she had set aside for her friends and her family and refused to budge on that time. This had left dating relatively untouched outside of some short high school relationships and a few first dates that never went further.

Alya never could understand why Marinette was so content on her own. She married Nino at 22 and had been happy in her marriage, but she was able to have her career and her relationship. Sometimes her journalism interfered but often she would just finish typing up any articles or notes she had while home and returned her attention to Nino.

Marinette often didn't disconnect from her sketchpad until late in the evening and then she simply wanted to eat, relax a little, and sleep. Dating required too much effort and time during the week and she only had so much time on the weekends, especially because of the occasional work event on a Saturday night.

This Saturday was one such event, a black tie party in a ballroom, where many designers were getting together under the pretext of a party, however most realized it was an important networking event. Designers would be discussing the styles that were in currently, some boasting about what they expected the next trend to be, and many would try to woo the various models in attendance to sign on for a certain number of shoots or shows in the upcoming seasons.

Marinette knew that she had to show her best at this, as she was entering the fifth year of her contract and would need to get her options in order. She was determined to have at least one outside offer waiting at the end of her contract, so she felt more free to decide if her current company was the best fit.

She had invited Alya over before to help her solidify her outfit by reassuring her choice in dress and accessories, as well as providing suggestions with make-up choices as requested. Marinette really needed a hype woman to get her in the right mindset for dealing with pretentious models and designers for her entire evening.

The ballroom hosting this event was as decedent as Marinette had anticipated and each designer eyed the others' appearance critically. Many of the compliments bestowed on others were backhanded, in the most subtle manner possible. The more inexperienced often missed the jabs but Marinette had expected them. Her mentor had arrived shortly before her and gestured for her to join his conversation upon seeing her entrance.

For nearly an hour, her mentor paraded her around, introducing her to each designer he personally knew and discussing with them her strengths. She was grateful for his support when he could have easily left her to flounder. The designers that had taken a liking to her brought others to meet her the moment he left her side to fetch a new drink. After dealing with their undivided attention for a while, she tried to find a polite way to excuse herself so she could breathe and let her face rest a moment.

The opportunity to slip away came when Gabriel Agreste entered, accompanied by his assistant and three others. The designers commented on his boldness to bring three young models and speculation started about which of the blond men was Gabriel's heir and if they knew the woman with them. He had brought Lila, Adrien, and Felix. She should’ve expected to see at least two of those three here. Time had allowed her to forget about their presence in this world.

Marinette murmured to the closest person that she was going to grab herself a beverage, then quietly slipped away while the designers speculated amongst themselves. She wouldn't contribute with an explanation of any person in that group, let alone bring an opportunity for her past relationships with them to come up.

She instead had snuck around, hiding amongst the various crowds filling the room to get to the hallway where the bathrooms were located. Rather than going into the bathroom, she walked around a turn in the hallway past them and stopped, leaning against the wall to take some deep breaths and think.

If Lila was here, she was definitely still employed with Gabriel and in good standing. She had cut contact with Alya and Nino after the graduation day incident so Marinette hadn't heard much about her since then. Luka didn't talk much about Juleka outside of their time together at the houseboat or in Kitty Section, but Marinette was sure he wouldn’t have let any news of her reach Marinette anyway. Mr. "High-road" Agreste was here so she would likely need to stay hidden or leave so he didn't try to be overly friendly with her. She didn't want to deal with his attempts to catch up and accusations about not staying in touch, even though he hadn't been a great friend of hers after trying to convince her to be a doormat, even if it nearly got her akumatized. Ice King Felix was a wild card. In school he had been a strange mixture of harsh and quietly supportive (primarily in dealing with Lila or Chloe). If Marinette had to deal with any of those three, he would be her preferred. He had potential to be on her side simply on the conditions that Lila still despised her and that Felix still disliked Lila or/and Adrien. Regardless, Marinette preferred if she could just make it through the night without needing to speak with any of them. Slowly she was considering going back to attempt navigating the party. Pushing herself off the wall, she took one more deep breath with her eyes shut.

And promptly fell to the floor due to the unexpected force of something ramming into her. Her head bounced off the carpeted floor and she felt like her brain was trying to restart.

“Oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t see you around the corner and ran into you. Are you alright?” The man leaned down next to her, while Marinette blinked a few times, trying to get her bearings. Then she slowly started to sit up. He spoke again, “Do you need to have your head examined? It looks like you may have bumped it and messed up your hair.”

Her hand came up and ran across the back of her head, over the hair, still blinking as her brain started running again. She turned to look at him and felt a little bit of dismay.

“Felix. I’m okay. My head is just pounding a little bit. I should really check to see what I need to do to make myself presentable again,” Marinette slowly moved towards getting up, hand reaching out to the wall. Felix took her hand and offered his other for more support. She took it without thinking, balancing herself as she stood. Then she turned her body, releasing his hands, and leaned against the wall again. “Thanks. It is Felix right?” Maybe if I play my cards right, he won’t recognize me and will think I just know from his ads.

“Yes Marinette. One and the same,” he smirked at her efforts and she groaned inside. “Did you know that you’re the hot topic in that room? Well actually you’re right behind whether Adrien or I will inherit Gabriel. As if the man is even considering retiring at this point.” Felix leaned one shoulder against the wall next to her, grinning like a cat.

“It seems that you made a splash socially, then disappeared right as Gabriel Agreste showed up. They’re speculating and Lila seems to have convinced enough of them that the two of you are friends. She’s so sure you have a surprise planned for her, even if she hasn’t figured out that you’re the same person yet. That only brought more speculation as to why you aren’t working at Gabriel. ‘Is it perhaps because she has an indecent relationship with an heir? Or is she the victim of nepotism?’ If you don’t make an appearance again soon, these rumors may live on past the evening.” His eyes had narrowed slightly as he brought up Lila and the rumors starting around her, trying to read the slightest reaction. Marinette just deflated. She had just been ready to go back before their collision and now she just wanted to curl up in a ball. With this last statement, she let out a little sound of exhaustion.

“Why did she have to be here? And how is it that even the people that are used to dealing with snakes don’t recognize her as one?” she groaned out, hands pressing her eyes. After a moment she straightened her back against the wall, breathed deeply and sighed. “Alright. We’re adults. Might as well act like it.”

“You’re going back now?” Felix stood, sounding more curious than before. Marinette had stood straight up, and was taking a step from the wall to walk back into the main hallway and looking at Felix as she replied.

“Of course I’m going to go back. I’m a professional that doesn’t lie and pretend to get places. I do the hard things and succeed--” she raised her eyebrows and smirked back at him “--Of course I need to fix my hair first, since you messed it up. Are you going to hide here longer?”

Felix faintly blushed at her expression as she told him he messed her hair up and thought about another way he could mess it up. As she slowly walked he turned to follow her. “Did you have a companion with you tonight? It’s not uncommon for designers to bring one…”

“I did not. I have been networking. Why do you ask?” Marinette slowly stepped towards the restroom door, nearly laughing at his stalling tactics.

“Would you like one when you’re finished fixing yourself up?” Marinette couldn’t believe how warm he was being with her, even with his mocking way of warning her what she was walking into. Is this really the Ice King I knew in school?

“I guess you’ll have to wait if you want to see…” Marinette pushed into the bathroom, walking up to a mirror. Luckily my hair wasn’t too extravagant and the back is just a little messed up. With a little bit of water on her fingers and some adjustments of her bobby pins, her hair looking untouched and she was exiting the bathroom.

Felix had moved to stand against the wall near the bathroom, and straightened to join her. Marinette liked the way he was acting with her now and made a split second decision that at worst, she didn’t need to keep him around if he changed his tune. She could push him back out of her life. She reached a hand out to beckon him and he offered her an arm. Their strides matched as they walked back to the party.

Whispers started in the groups closest to the door as they saw their up-and-coming sunshine designer enter on the arm of the model known for his aloofness and cold professionalism. Felix’s face slipped back into it’s icy indifference, looking harshly at specific individuals that dared to make too inappropriate of a comment in his earshot. Marinette smiled and nodded at different individuals that she hadn’t spoken enough with at length. A small squeeze to his arm and twist of her head had the pair walking towards one of Marinette’s first choices for her next employer.

Other groups had taken notice of the pair, drawing more eyes, and conversations turned to theories about their relationship. The two ignored stares and managed to strike up a pleasant conversation with a woman that could drastically improve her prospects. With the increasing curiosity of most guests, one young woman noticed and began to formulate a plan.

“Marinette! Over here! It’s me! Why didn’t you tell your best friend that you were coming?” Lila loudly exclaimed as she began prancing across the room and waving a hand wildly like a child trying to catch attention. Her dramatics went unacknowledged as Felix used his most winning smile, describing Marinette’s designs throughout their school years and then drawing attention to the dress she was currently wearing. She couldn’t help but blush that he had recognized her craftsmanship even after years apart. The woman seemed to be swept up in the warmth and friendliness he was using, as well as the atmosphere those two formed around their group. Others paid particular attention to the hand Felix had rested on her side.

Marinette had been gaining attention up to this point, however the entire party noticed the atmosphere tense as Lila appeared to trip, right as she was about to reach the designer. Felix moved behind Marinette, having her twirl in front of him to show off the patterns embroidered into her dress, and felt the liquid on his back before Lila collided with him. Felix had made note of Lila as he was gesturing to Marinette’s dress and guessed at her plan with a fair bit of accuracy. Marinette was completely dry and far enough forward to avoid being bumped by Felix when the force from Lila’s impact pushed him. The icy glare returned to his face as he turned to deal with her.

A few men from nearby moved over to help Lila, who faked a sob story about how clumsy she was, because she was just so excited to see Marinette since “our schedules have just been so busy that we haven’t gotten to see each other!” when Felix interrupted her.

“Strange that you say that. I actually remember Marinette getting a restraining order on you after graduation, when you tried to poison her food. You claimed to be allergic to shellfish and said she was trying to slip clam broth into your food. However you had the broth container in your bag, it was slipped into her food, and according to her up-to-date school medical records, she’s severely allergic to mollusks so she wouldn’t come near the container. At the time, you were supposedly diagnosed with a disorder that causes you to compulsively lie. Regardless, the courts didn’t seem to believe that a disorder like that, which was unknown to and unheard of by medical professionals, wouldn’t have been grounds to explain trying to harm her and granted the order. Do you not remember that?” Felix recited the story almost impassively, as though it was simply a reminder of what she ate for breakfast, however he gave a mock confused look with his rhetorical question. The crowd had gathered around with her fall and were well within earshot as Felix described one of the worst incidents of Marinette’s life. The pale expression she wore and the Lila’s furious expression as he described it convinced even those that would’ve been inclined to side with Lila.

With one final look of distaste, Felix turned to Marinette and reached for her hand. The onlookers were surprised at the obvious tenderness as he spoke to her, “We should get you away from here. Do you want to stay at the party and talk to some more people or would you prefer I escort you home? We can see about getting some contact information before we leave, if you’d like.”

The room was deathly silent, even Lila having the sense to wait, in case she broke the tense quiet that had formed. After a deep breath and a shaky smile directed at Felix, Marinette turned back to the woman she had been speaking with before Lila’s act and politely said, “I enjoyed our conversation and hope we have the opportunity to speak again soon. I would love to hear more about your work to more effectively create silk patterns by hand. I know you said it before but hand weaved silk really is so much nicer than the machine weaved and I’ve read that it’s much more durable. Thank you for your time this evening!”

Felix moved to her side and Marinette slipped her hand into his before stepping towards the coat room. With coat in hand, the pair swept out of the ballroom to leave behind the drama of the evening.

Suddenly the room burst into chaos and Lila was escorted to a private room to wait for Gabriel to decide how to handle this revelation. He knew he would lose the respect of his peers if he kept a young woman on staff that they all knew had tried to murder another one. The cherry on that cake would be that the would-be victim is an up-and-coming designer that nearly all were considering making an offer to. It was clear to him that Ms. Rossi would be fired. Now it’s just a matter of the other clean up that would follow. Additionally, it seemed Ms. Dupain-Cheng also had a close relationship with his son, considering the show that he was putting on since they arrived. He would have to dig into his sons’ involvements with the designer's misfortunes, as that would impact how they looked to the public. There was one other aspect that Gabriel Agreste was rather certain of, one of his son’s was smitten with a good match and if they were happily married, it would help their careers immensely.

Marinette’s night out ended with a private car pulling up to her building, a kiss placed on Felix’s cheek, and her hand slipping a piece of paper with her phone number into his jacket pocket. She was pleased to find he messaged her immediately to make sure she made it into her apartment alright.

Felix was too lovestruck to sleep that night.

#felinette month 2020 #felinette month #lila salt #felinette #miraculous ladybug

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jaeminlore · 3 years

Text

To Live and Let Go | Renjun

summary: if there’s something left to be learned, then my time is running. why would i waste it all, wasted on you?

words: 2.3k+

category: librarian!renjun x tutor!reader, fem!presenting!reader, adventure au, a bit meta, what’s going on idk ur guess is as good as mine, some sections are written better than others, reader is a tutor for prince jaemin, this sucks so bad i’m so sorry.

note: this was a commission for @yrb-reads who donated to a charity of their choice. thank you :) i’m terribly sorry it took so long and it's definitely not up to par the way it should be. if you want something else written to make up for it let me know. there was depression, full time job, and a death in the family i would like to blame, but i should’ve prioritized this story more for you, and for that i’m sorry. thank you so much for donating, and i hope this serves as a holiday gift for you. again, sorry about the short length

To Renjun, libraries feel like home. Especially the castle’s library, located just west of the kitchen; a hidden gem unknown to most people. Really, only known to Prince Jaemin and Renjun, if he really thought about it. Perhaps a few tutors and scholars as well.

But these factors don’t make it home. Instead, it is the wooden walls of thick cedar trunks, built long before the castle walls were put up; when the builders didn’t have the heart to tear such a piece of architecture down. It’s the way it smells like a forest at all times, and how the inside walls are chipped and falling onto the bare floor. It is the large shelves, made just decades ago, crammed up against each other and overflowing with the royal family’s books. Each piece of literature is practically an heirloom, save the small shelf in the corner where the prince hides his new romance novels he gets delivered straight from the village of Rubin.

The library feels like a bridge between the kingdom and the village. Inside these four walls, wooden and chipped, Rubin feels like one entity, undivided by classes or rank.

It also happens to be the one place Renjun is allowed to hang his paintings.

Ever since he was younger, it has been Renjun’s dream to be a portrait artist. To be able to place his thumbprint in Rubin’s history by painting the royal family or a few important nobles, is all he has ever wanted. But the King and Queen prefer a man of nobility to do the work, so Renjun was shot down. Since he sold everything he had to come and shoot for his dream, the royal family had offered him a pity job.

Correction: Prince Jaemin had begged his parents not to turn Renjun away empty-handed and convinced them to let him earn his pay here in the castle.

Prince Jaemin does a lot for Renjun. He had introduced him to his friend and closest servant, Donghyuck, who has a sharp tongue but no real malice to back up anything he ever said. Renjun had moved in with him, and used his side of the house as his painting room. Donghyuck barely even complains about the scent of oil paint anymore.

Prince Jaemin also got him his current job as a bookbinder. Which, in itself, is a very lonely and tedious job. Perfect for a boy like Renjun who only wants to work with no outside distractions. Aside from his friends in the castle, that is. Or the prince’s tutor, who comes in for study material.

Most importantly, Prince Jaemin lets Renjun hang up his portraits in the library. He had said that they deserved to be hung up, even if it couldn’t be hung up in the royal hall. Renjun had nearly burst into tears in front of the hyperactive prince.

They had met during a touchy time in the prince’s life. He had just returned to the castle after a trip to the village. There, he was hiding from potential assassins, but for some reason, the prince seemed more upset about coming back.

It was in the quiet of that library that Jaemin let Renjun, a complete stranger at the time, in on the secret that he was in love with a girl from the village. For the young artist, it wasn’t hard to imagine. Prince Jaemin was known for his free spirit and hyperactive personality. There was no way he could become attached to a noble raised under discipline.

Of course the prince was raised under the highest of discipline, but he somehow found a way to rebel against it all and stay true to himself, even if it meant hiding the portraits he liked the best in a forgotten library, or befriending the healer and servant of the castle instead of the lords.

He was wonderful, and Renjun couldn’t wait for him to be king.

The library was home because Prince Jaemin made it home. He had crafted a place between the castle and the village — a place of seclusion — just for Renjun and his thoughts.

“I just want them to listen to me,” Jaemin moans, dropping his chin onto his open romance book. “I’ve been asking them for almost a year and a half to let me go back to the village, but they refuse to listen to me.”

Renjun hums non-committedly. “Chin up, please. I’m not finished.”

Jaemin glares at Renjun through his eyelashes but obliges, a pout still evident on his face. He returns to his casual pose of leaning his cheek against his fist and turning the pages of his book. “Anyway, I really want to go back to the village.”

“I know,” Renjun sighs and dips the tip of his paintbrush into the copper-colored paint he had mixed. “Right now, you have to obey them. You may be the prince but obviously they’re the king and queen.”

“I’m about to be nineteen,” Jaemin mumbles angrily.

“And when your coronation arrives, you’ll have more freedom to do things like visit the village.”

“Her grandmother died, you know,” Jaemin says, morose. “I could’ve been there for the funeral, at least.”

Renjun grabs a slimmer paintbrush and begins to note the details of Jaemin’s face. “I know, Your Highness. But if she’s anything like you’ve told me, then I’m sure she understands.”

Jaemin bites his lip and looks at the book sadly. “I just miss her.”

“It’s your duty to stay here. I’m sure she realizes that.”

Jaemin rolls his eyes, albeit sadly, and goes back to posing.

“Your Highness! I’ve been looking everywhere for you!” Renjun’s brush shakes slightly as his mind registers the new voice. It is Jaemin’s tutor. You, a servant the same age as the prince, seem to be the only one he will actually listen to. Perhaps because you entertain his many ideas. Perhaps because Renjun had begged him to keep you around.

Because you not only entertained Jaemin’s ideas, you also praised Renjun’s art. You are a no-nonsense tutor, but as a friend, you have had neverending praise and encouragement to the two boys.

Renjun longs to be around you as much as Jaemin is. In fact, you are the only real reason Renjun finds himself being jealous of the prince. He often wonders how Jaemin could even think about a villager he only knew for a week, when you are right there beside him, every day.

Just the blossom of your smile could make Renjun’s mind freeze in all it’s concerns. Suddenly, the portrait in front of him means little to nothing, and all he could really think about was how many different shades of pink and brown he’d have to mix before he matched the color of your lips. “Hello, Y/n.”

“Good day,” you greet, bowing slightly. “What are you painting today?”

Renjun almost forgets to breathe when you walk toward him and lean your head over his shoulder to inspect his art. He can smell the amber musk on your collarbones and feel your soft hair tickle his cheek. “J-Jaemin.”

“You always paint him,” you murmur, almost in boredom. “Say, do you do favors?”

“Come again?”

“Like, if I paid you, would you draw a portrait of me? I think my mother would really like it— she’s always asking me to get a portrait done.”

Renjun feels his tongue rest heavy in his mouth. Before he can speak, Jaemin grabs your arm. “He can do it! Now let’s get to my lessons!”

And that was that on that.

The stream trickles loudly, leaping down and over the rock formations and falling into the pool with grace. This is where Renjun comes to find inspiration. It’s also where he comes to practice his art.

It’d be nice to do it into the library, but Renjun knows that he would abandon all his actual duties — the ones that he gets paid to do.

He eyes his oil paints, color coordinated from lightest to darkest shade. He dips his brush in pure white, to lay a foundation coat atop his canvas.

Truth be told, he could paint you from memory. But if he told you that, he’d have to admit to his crush on you, and that’s far too embarrassing. No, thank you.

Renjun takes off his sandals and plants his feet on the soft grass. The blades tickle his toes, so he tries to relax his muscles. He has the canvas stretched out on his knees, which is a bit unconventional, but it works. He looks up at the afternoon sun; his straw hat scrapes the trunk of the tree he’s leaning against.

“Sorry I’m late. Jaemin needed help with Latin...” You wander in and trail off, looking at the pool in wonder. “This is beautiful.”

You’re dressed in silver shades — Renjun wonders if you intentionally made yourself look extra beautiful, or if that’s you, in the reflection of the water. He clears his mind and his throat. “I figured It’d be a nice background for a portrait.”

“How do you want me posed?” Your lips are upturned, soft, and Renjun starts a mental list on how to keep you smiling.

“Whatever you’re comfortable with,” Renjun hurries. “We’ll be here for an hour or so each session until it’s finished.”

You sit in the grass, atop your knees, and smooth out any wrinkles in your garments. “My Mother is going to be so thrilled, Renjun. Thank you so much for doing this.”

His tongue feels heavy at the compliment, so he settles for a simple nod. The foundation coat is still drying, so Renjun pulls his sketchbook and a pencil out of his bag. “Do you mind if I start with a few sketches?”

“Of course not,” you say. Your eyes clip to his, bright and clear, and Renjun thinks this is going to be a lot harder than he initially thought.

(The next session, Renjun is so focused on getting the outline of your back right that he doesn’t even notice you moving towards him.

“You’ve got paint on your brow,” you say.

Renjun reflexively wipes at his face, feeling himself blush at your observation. “Is it gone?”

You grin — looking straight at him — and reach up. Gently, you use the pad of your thumb to scrub off the paint. “Now it is.”

Renjun thinks he’d rather melt into the floor than finish the rest of this session.)

Renjun threads the spine of his latest project: scribe records from the recent knighting tournament and ceremony. Even as he pulls the last thread tight, his finger raw and screaming, he’s thankful that he wasn’t the one editing these records.

Jaemin hasn’t been to the library in awhile. His current betrothement has him in a frenzied mindset, and Renjun is sure he has more important things to do than hang out with his friends.

Still, he misses the company.

He sets the glue along the spine and aligns the pages with the leather backing. He’s so busy focusing on making sure the lines are straight that he doesn’t notice someone walk into the library. “Hello, Renjun.”

Renjun jumps, and the spine of the book misaligns. He leaves it on his table, and when he turns around, you’re there smiling at him. “Hey, Y/n. I didn’t know you tutored Jaemin today.”

”I don’t,” you admit. A bashful look overtakes your face and you focus on one of the books in Renjun’s return pile. “I wanted to thank you for the portrait. My mother loved it.”

“I’m glad!” Renjun says, brightening up. He notices that you still look rather distant. “Is something wrong?”

”it’s just...” you bite your lip. “Do, um, do I really look like that?”

Renjun wants to ask what you mean. But he sort of knows. “Your portrait? Is it not to your likeness?”

You furrow your brows. “I just... You made me look very beautiful.”

“You are very beautiful,” Renjun replies, voice low and steady. “Surely, you know that.”

Embarrassment paints your face and you shrug. “I dunno...”

“I know,” Renjun says, surety building in his voice. “Whether you believe it or not, it’s a fact that you are very beautiful. I hope my painting portrayed even an inch of your beauty.”

You look aghast at his words, mouth open in shock. “Are you… Are you serious?”

Renjun stares at the way your lips look, pursed in confusion. “Why on earth would I lie to you?”

“I don’t mean to insult your integrity,” you say, eyes wide. “It’s just that no one has ever been so upfront with me.”

This is it, Renjun thinks. This is my chance to confess. He takes a deep breath, steps closer to you. Toe to toe, so that your chest is brushing against his. And the outside air lessens it’s chill, so that Renjun is sure he’s sweating, nervous and hot and wanting.

His luck hasn’t run out yet. “Can I be upfront again?”

Your breath hitches, leaving Renjun’s own words isolated, suspended in the air between you. “Yes,” you finally say, honeyed lips nearly brushing his own.

“I’m in love with you,” Renjun allows himself to say. “And I want to kiss you. Selfishly.”

“Then do so.”

Your lips are honeyed; candied peonies against his own cruel briars and thorns. Renjun wonders if he’s good enough for you. If book binding and tutoring go hand in hand. If he’ll be stuck forever in the royal library, giving you books to read to the prince. He wonders if this is the life of a peasant, always one step behind the nobles.

Two people in service to a prince can never truly serve each other.

But Renjun doesn’t hold on to that thought. Instead, he surges forward, holds your body like it’s falling, kissing your mouth and your chin and your neck and your skin and—

“Hey,” you cup his face in his hands. “This isn’t the last time you’ll have me. There’s no need to be urgent.”

So he slows down. Gentle touches and warm gazes. Tastes you as much as touches you. All lips and no teeth. Memorized the palm of your hand against his jaw.

You’ll still be here, you said so.

Renjun decides to let go.

#the last paragraph is good but the rest sucks srry #renjun fluff #renjun angst #adventure au #nct dream fluff #nct dream angst #nct dream au #renjun au #destwrites

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asterthemom · 3 years

Text

Tímida: Roger Taylor x OC series

sorry guys i’ve been m.i.a. with second semester starting i’ve been stressing with class and all that but i had this chapter for awhile now and i decided to finish it. also i’m trying to work on “wounded” the kylo ren series but i fell into a bit of a writers block for that one. .-. i’ll work on it soon. but here is this roger taylor fic you can use ben hardy’s version of roger if you would like. :) thanks for reading.

MICKEY

Waking up groggy you checked your alarm clock, 12:00 in the afternoon you have definitely seen worse you groaned as you got up from your bed.

You had always followed a very specific routine in all honestly it just made sense living on your own had definitely impacted you and your mental health so sticking to a routine made it feel like your life was always on track, when it certainly was not.

The first thing on your non-existent schedule was coffee, no matter the time you always needed some sort of caffeine when you are tight on cash it was tea at home, but when you were able and that was most of the time you went to a small coffee shop that was about a fifteen-minute walk from your studio apartment.

After doing the basic self-hygiene you grabbed your tote bag filled with your work stuff and started walking to the directions to Beachwood Cafe.

The walk is always quiet and calm, but it always gave you little bits and pieces into other people’s lives. Like the old lady watering her plants or the way, the housewife takes her toddler for a walk in his stroller. The sense of familiarity comforted you.

“Hello there.”

You whipped your head toward the direction of the voice, this was not part of the routine you had never seen this man before, his shoulder-length blonde hair and ridiculously blue eyes were unfamiliar yet comforting. He was confident yet nonchalant with his greeting.

“Hello,” you said with a small smile he looked down at you smiling.

You continued to walk seeing Beachwood in the distance.

“Were you going to get a cuppa?” you nodded your head “That is so crazy because so was I.” he picked up his pace so he can open the door for you.

You muttered a small thank you and walked in, Beachwood was a small but very popular coffeeshop the owner Dayla has became a very good friend of yours and always brightened up your day with a joke or two.

“Mimi, how are you love?” she asked from behind the counter.

“I’m good Day how are you?”

“Can’t complain if I say so myself.” she said grinning “Let me guess Caffe Latte and a pastry?”

“Yes ma’am, it’s late in the day you didn’t run out of the pastries yet?”

“I just took out a fresh batch right now, I knew you were going to have a late start today.” God, you loved this woman.

You stepped aside to get your wallet from your bag

“What would you like young man?” Dayla asked the man who walked in with you.

“I’ll just get a cup of tea please, Oh! I’ll get her order as well” he said as he saw you handing money to Dayla.

“That’s okay!” you said feeling the heat rise to your cheeks.

“Please I insist.” He said practically throwing the money to pay for your order at Dayla.

“Please let me-”

“Mimi! he said he insists go sit down,” Dayla said looking at you wide-eyed.

You looked at both of them and walked to the seat you usually sat at and what a surprise the man came with you.

“Do you mind if I sit here?” he said motioning to the seat across from you.

“Go ahead,” you said

He sat down looking out the window and then back at you. “I’m sorry I realized I never introduced myself I’m Roger Taylor.” he said extending his hand out to you, you grabbed it.

“I’m Mickey… well it’s not really Mickey but it’s just easier to pronounce.” Stupid you should’ve just said Mickey.

“May I ask what your real name is?” Roger said still holding your hand

“It’s Mikaela but Mickey is fine.”

“Can you say it one more time, I want to make sure I got it right.” he rubbed his thumb across your knuckles.

“Umm… yeah it’s pronounced Me as in me and you, Ki like eye but with a K in front of it and Yella like yell with an A after… That sounded really complicated actually you don’t have to-”

“Mikaela?” he said slowly looking up at you for confirmation.

“Yeah!” your heart skipped a beat it is so nice hearing your name.

“Nice to meet you Mikaela” he said as he brought your hand up to his mouth and pressed a soft kiss on your knuckles.

Fuck.

Of course, at the exact same time as that happened, Dayla came with your drinks. She set your drink down smirking and left without saying another word.

“Is it safe to assume that you are not from here?” He asked while blowing on his tea before taking a small sip.

“Yeah, you can say that. What gave it away.” You said smiling from your coffee cup

“You’re just different from everyone not in a bad way either I like it. Where are you from.”

Oh god, I can die happy right now.

“Well, it's a bit of a long story.”

“I don't have anywhere to be.” He said his blues eyes burning into yours

Oh wow, he's so hot

“Oh in that case. I was born in a small town in Spain. Spanish was my first language so that’s why I talk funny.”

“I like the way you talk.”

He did not. Your face was definitely red.

“How does a girl from Spain come to London?”

“Ummm sheer luck I suppose.”

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure”

“Was it hard learning another language?”

“Learning English was super difficult sometimes I feel like I dont know what I’m saying, but English is my third language my second was Italian.”

“Italian? Where do you find the time to learn two extra languages?” He was genuinely in disbelief

“Well my mom was from Spain and my dad was from Italy so I just needed to know both and they’re pretty similar to each other so it wasn’t that hard.

“What do you do for fun?”

“What do I do for fun?” I repeated thinking hard

“Yes, you obviously must have loads of friends.”

“Well… I do have friends, I just can’t think of one at this second.”

This is embarrassing now he thinks I’m a loser

“Don’t worry I don’t have many friends either but consider me as your friend Mickey.”

“What about you? What do you do for fun?” I need to change the subject oh my god.

“Well, I’m in a rock band.”

“A rock band?!” You said a little too loudly

“What about me isn’t rock and roll Mickey?” he said laughing

“Not in a bad way of course you don’t seem like the type to be singing in front of a crowd,” I said shaking my head

“Well, I suppose you got that right I’m on the drums in the back so the audience can’t really see me anyways.”

“I’m sorry I’m not trying to make fun of you I just got caught off guard, does your band have a name?”

“Sm- Queen,” he said shaking his head.

“I like the name Queen, are you playing soon I would like to see what I’m missing out on.”

“We’re actually recording our first album right now, the recording place is not too far from here about a block or two further down. So we’re going on a small break until we’re done with the album but I believe the next one is in three weeks.”

“I’ll keep an eye out for it then.” You said sipping your coffee

“Actually I was hoping to see you earlier than that.”

You immediately choked on your coffee, making a scene by coughing into your napkin.

“That wasn’t the response I had hoped for,” he said passing you his napkin so you can wipe your tears with.

“Oh, I’m so sorry I wasn’t trying to be mean I just- well I would like to see you again as well.”

“Really?,” He said smiling, and you swear you could melt from his smile alone.

“Yes, of course.” You smiled back.

He then prompted to drink his cup of tea until it was finished and left money on the table.

“Great then I’m going to leave before I can mess up this perfect first moment. By any chance do you have a pen on you?”

You shook your head yes and looked through your bag handing it to him.

“This is my number, we’re recording until 6 today so anytime after that call me and I’d love to talk to you more.”

You felt your head spinning with how fast he was talking and moving.

He plucked your hand up and gave you a small kiss on it again, he then walked to the door before saying.

“Promise me you’ll call me,” he told you while he grabbed the door handle.

“I promise I’ll call you,” you said softly

“Perfect,” he said while he winked at you and then left.

He gave you one last look through the window and then left, once he was out of view Dayla came to the table.

“Who was that?” she said, collecting her tip that Roger left her.

“His name is Roger. I met him today.”

“Today! You’re joking.”

“I swear Dayla I met him minutes before coming here?”

“He can be a psychopath! And here you are chatting with him after knowing him for 30 minutes.”

That stopped you.

“He is not a psycho he was so nice and funny, and did you see how hot he is Day?”

“Yeah well murderers can be funny and hot.”

“Do you really think he’s a murderer?” you asked in a exsperated way.

“No, I was just kidding he is really hot and besides who would want to murder you?” Dayla said as she wiggled her eyebrows.

“Wow that doesn’t really make me feel better.”

She stood up grabbing Roger’s empty cup “Girl you know I was just playing I say go for it and have fun, anyone would be lucky to have you.” she bumped your shoulder with her hip and left.

Your mind felt overwhelmed with all the excitement from today you even almost forgot that you had some work orders to do you tried to push Roger from your mind as you grabbed your journal and sketchbook from your bag. You looked back at your notes reading on what your client wanted: a floor-length gown but not something too flashy something to show off their arms and their cleavage. Perfect. You spent your time designing the gown having fun with it since you probably wouldn’t have another gown piece for months. After finishing you went on to your smaller orders feeling yourself getting into the groove of things.

Looking up from your sketch you noticed how dark it got outside and how empty it now was in the cafe. You decided to call it a day, well that was until you go home, and then you would start making the gown. You noticed the clock when you were telling Dayla good night. 6:58 Damn time really flew by and then you remembered the number you had in your bag.

The walk home went by to fast your thoughts about what you would say to Roger once you called made you nervous to the point that your keys kept slipping from your hands as you were trying to open the door to your apartment.

You purposely threw your jacket on the phone hook so you didn’t have to see it and went to the bathroom you looked at your appearance baggy jeans, an oversize t-shirt that you also slept in, hair a mess, and no makeup. You shook your head, no way Roger was being serious about you calling him he was so much more put together and out of your league completely. You could just imagine all the beautiful women that he has been with, no way you could compare. You sighed walking out the bathroom ready to get started on your order. You grabbed the different fabrics you needed for making the gown and when you went to grab your sketchbook Roger’s number fell and slowly fluttered down to the floor like it was taunting you. You stared at the paper hard groaning when you opened it reading that he wrote “Roger <3” following his number. You did promise him you would call…

Your heartbeat picked up when you approached the phone dialing each number slowly wishing a catastrophic event would happen and end the world so you didn’t have to finish dialing. It didn’t happen. You put the phone to your ear and hear the first ring, and then the second. This was stupid calling him in the first place you removed the phone from your ear and were half a second away from hanging up when you heard “Hello?”

Shit.

You couldn’t just hang up now.

“Hello, is this Roger?”

“It took you long enough.”

#queen band #queen smut #queen imagine #rogertaylor #roger taylor imagine #roger taylor smut #roger taylor fanfic #queen imagines #borhap #borhap smut #ben hardy #ben hardy smut #ben hardy imagine #ben hardy fluff #queen fluff

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angellbarnes · 4 years

Text

Moonlight

summary: Steve can’t help but draw you whenever he can. You’re both oblivious to each other’s feelings but it’s funny how things can work out.

pairing: Steve Rogers x reader

words: 1.7k

warnings: some language but just a load of flufff

A/N: my first Steve x reader! I had this idea and thought it was cute? Let me know what you all think🤍

The chilled breeze of the evening pricks at your skin as you lean on the upstairs balcony of the compound. You admire the stars and the feeling of fresh air against your flushed face, after stepping out of another of Tony’s parties. As fun as they are, they could get a little much for you.

So as you stared out into the evening, you didn’t take much notice to the others around you, stood or standing, on the balcony. Especially not one certain super soldier, who held a sketchbook and pencil, admiring you and capturing your beauty within its pages. He watched you as you got lost in your thoughts, with the wind rippling through your dress and the way your eyes held the glow of the moon.

He finished his sketch with the last stroke of your hair and looked over the drawing once more. He’d picked up quite the habit of drawing you when you weren’t looking, whether it was sitting in the common room or whilst training or even on the jet to and from missions. His favourite was the one he’d done the other evening, when you were sat on a stool in the kitchen, with a cup of hot chocolate in your hand as you read your favourite book. Your hair was in a messy up do and you were wearing an oversized jumper; he thought you looked adorable and he couldn’t help but capture that moment.

He quickly snaps his book shut as he notices you walking over to him.

“Hey, Steve, beautiful view, isn’t it?” You say and your soothing voice almost sent Steve into a complete daze. He swears he could just listen to your voice for hours.

“Oh, uh, yeah. It really is.” He rubs at the back of his neck whilst sporting a sheepish smile.

“Can I see?” You ask, gesturing down to his book.

“See my drawings?”

“Yeah, I mean, I’ve always wanted to look at them but I’ve just never got around to asking.”

“Oh, you don’t want to see these. They’re not even proper drawings, just little things here and there.” He replies anxiously. He doesn’t know what he’d do if you saw those drawings, whether you’d run straight in the other direction and never speak to him again, or actually appreciate it. He didn't want to take that chance, though.

“Okay, well, you don’t have to show me if you don't want to. Maybe one day, though.” Your sweet tone almost makes Steve melt and when you place your hand on his shoulder before leaving, he knows he’s done for.

He’s been harbouring a crush from you for months, slowly falling more and more for you each passing day. Only Sam and Bucky know, though. At least, they’re the only people he’s told. What he doesn't know, though, is that you’d taken a liking to him the first day of joining the team. Since then, you’ve hidden your feelings quite well by not telling anyone and pretending your feelings don't exist. The only flaw in that plan is that the more you act like they aren't there, the more evident they become.

~~~

The next morning you make your way through the halls of the compound, heading to the kitchen for some food. As you turn a corner, you overhear Sam talking to Steve, before they’ve realised you’re there.

“Come on, man. You’ve got to tell her sooner or later. I’m telling you there’s no way she doesn’t feel the same. I’ve seen how she looks at you when she thinks no one’s paying attention. I’m willing to bet on it.”

There’s no way he could’ve been talking about you though, right?

“You should listen to the birdie over here, Steve. Tell her. Whoever she is is a lucky girl.” You comment as you stride in, showing as much confidence as you can muster. You grab a bowl from the cupboard and place it on the island the two are sat at, before taking a spoon from the drawer.

“How- uh, how much of that did you hear?” Steve asks timidly.

“Just the end. So... who is it?” You ask eagerly, though you can feel your heart unwillingly begin to race.

“Oh, you don’t need to worry. Just someone.” He adds a nervous laugh and you eye him and Sam dubiously.

“Cut the bullshit, Cap, just tell her who it is!” Sam nudges Steve and you lean forwards on the counter, wiggling your eyebrows and grinning. You pray for the answer you’re looking for, and it seems more and more possible as he looks at you, deep into your eyes. Your smile softens and he still hasn’t said a word.

“Come on Rogers,” you say as a final push, “just get it out in the open-”

“It’s Sharon.” His reply is blunt. Straight to the point. No hesitation. You abruptly stand back up straight and clear your throat, mentally cursing yourself for actually getting your hopes up.

“Oh.” Is all you can say, trying not to sound disappointed. It hurt, you can’t lie. You wanted him to say your name and he didn’t. Sharon. The word sounded like poison to your ears. “Well, she does seem very nice. On second thought, I’m going to go out for breakfast. I’ll see you two later.” You say as brightly as possible before rushing out of the room.

Steve lets out the breath he didn’t realise he was holding and turns to face his very unimpressed looking friend.

“Seriously?” Sam deadpans.

“I panicked.”

“Yeah, well, good job, Mr I like this girl but I just told her I like someone completely different-”

“Sam, don’t you think I realise what I did? I was the one who said it.” Steve replies, exasperated.

“Nuh uh, I’m not finished. And now she won’t know how I feel because I’m a dumbass and ruined my chance of finding out whether she likes me back.”

Steve replies with a groan, covering his face with his hand.

~~~

When you return from your breakfast out, you head straight to your room. You’d had some time to think about everything that had happened. You concluded that it made sense for Steve to like Sharon over you, seeing as they’ve spent more time together and knew each other way before you did. It was stupid to think Steve could possibly feel the way you do about him because-

“Shit, sorry!” A male voice rings out. You were too in your head to notice the tall blonde walking in your opposite direction.

“Oh my god, Steve, I wasn’t paying attention, I’m so sorry!” You stumble over your words slightly and you look up to Steve, with an amused grin on his face.

“Me too, I should’ve been looking where I was going.”

“No, I had my head in the clouds as usual.” You avert your eyes from him, sheepishly looking to the ground when you notice his sketchbook that he must’ve dropped. You bend down to pick it up for him, noticing it had opened up when it fell.

“Oh, here’s your...” Your voice trails off as your eyes scan over the led covered pages. It’s beautiful you think, letting your gaze wander over every hard and soft line that marks it.

“I’m so sorry, you weren’t meant to see those. It’s just- it’s-”

“Me.” You finish, breathlessly. You finally tear yourself away from the artwork and back to him. You smile, confused, as you hand it back to him. You would think that he’s suddenly lost the ability to speak as his mouth hangs open, looking for anything he could say to explain himself.

“They’re gorgeous.” You admit, and his adams apple bobs as his mouth closes. “I mean, it’s strange to say, seeing as they’re drawings of me but, Steve, you’re so talented.” You continue, flashing a reassuring smile and giggling slightly.

“You- you like them? You don’t think it’s creepy? Strange?” He asks quietly, fiddling with the corner of the leather binding.

“No, I think it’s sweet.” You reassure and you can see him visibly relax, releasing the tension in his shoulders and letting out a laugh of relief. You take your hand and place it over his. His eyes meet yours briefly but they quickly fall back to where your hand lies atop his.

“Maybe I could see the rest? In your room?” You pose.

“Sure, yeah.” He smiles brighter and leads you to his room silently.

When you hear the clicking of the door behind you, you spin around to say something, though your words disappear into the feeling of another mouth on yours. His lips are soft, delicate, held back, even. It’s short but sweet when he pulls away but his face is still close enough to yours that you can feel his breath fan over yours.

“I’m sorry. It’s just... I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time.” He admits.

“Me too.” You whisper, biting your lip, and he takes that as a signal to lean down again. This time the kiss is deeper and you sigh into it. He pulls you right into his body and you let him snake his tongue into your mouth. Breathlessly, you both pull away, letting the moment linger in the air a little longer.

“I don’t like Sharon, I never did. I said it because I panicked and didn’t think you felt the same way. I’m an idiot.” Steve lets out, gazing intently at you.

“Yeah, you are,” you giggle, “but we’re here now. That doesn’t matter anymore.” You smile at him and he mirrors it.

Slowly, you draw the notebook from his hand and take a seat on his bed, letting him come over in his own time. You flick through more of it, commenting on how amazing they are each time you turn a page, earning a shy ‘thank you’ each time. You reach the last drawing; you on the balcony last night and let out a small gasp.

“Steve, it’s wonderful. This is what you were drawing when I came over to you? This is why you wouldn’t show me?” You marvel over the way the pencil strokes looked so effortlessly placed on the paper, then reading where he’d written ‘Moonlight’ underneath. Each sketch had a word or a few to go along with it, something to do with the moment he had drawn them.

“Yeah, I didn’t want to show you in case you would run away or something and never want to speak to me again.” You place the sketchbook down, cupping his face in both of your hands.

“I will never run away from you, only towards.”

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve x you #steve rogers x you #steve x reader #steve rogers fic #marvel fic #captain america #captain america x reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fluff

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melioramercy · 4 years

Text

i didn’t mean to, but i know it still hurts

spencer reid x nonbinary partner (afab) (they/them/theirs)

in which spencer accidentally misgenders his partner

this is my first fic ! how groovy is that ?

note: misgendering is defined as the following: [to] refer to (someone, especially a transgender person) using a word, especially a pronoun or form of address, that does not correctly reflect the gender with which they identify.

if you’d like to chat about gender (respectfully) my asks are open xx ruby

dating spencer reid was wonderful. truly, you had no idea how you’d gotten so lucky. he was kind without trying, attentive to your needs, and would never do anything to hurt your feelings. not on purpose, anyway. but when he did, he was quick to apologise, curling up on the couch with you and kissing your head. he knew you typically brooded in silence, choosing to let what was bothering you wash over you in full before attempting to sort anything out. this way, you didn’t say anything you didn’t mean. you two always sorted out conflicts peacefully, and only ended up crying because you loved each other so much and you never wanted to be mad at the other. because of this, he was more than happy to sit with you in silence, weathering your storm together.

spencer didn’t know you were nonbinary when you first met. that was ten months ago, back when you only knew him as the cute, clumsy guy who frequented the same park as you. he liked to play chess, you learned, while he noticed you practicing complex yoga poses just a stone’s throw past him. the two of you maintained a respectful distance from one another, though you snuck glances at him, admiring the way his tongue poked out between his lips, and how quickly his hands darted around the board. he never noticed you staring, the same way you didn’t notice his eyes bashfully skating over your figure, sucking in a breath as your shirt rode up, revealing your colourful sports bra and soft tummy.

you’d existed in the same space, bearing witness to one another’s leisure activities for nearly four months before you interacted beyond a slight smile or shy wave. some days, he sat propped against a tree, reading a thick book or sketching. you were physically closer than ever when he sat under the tree, but you couldn’t have felt further apart. on the days he had a notebook in front of him, pencil sliding across the paper, his gaze never wavered, and you couldn't help but secretly hope he was drawing a portrait of you. spurred on by your daydream, you decided to try out more skillful poses, subconsciously trying to break his concentration, but no dice.

it wasn’t until you fell out of a handstand and face-planted that the force field between you two broke. he jumped up from his spot under the tree and ran over to you, wiping dirt off your forehead and holding your face as he checked for any scrapes or bruises. you hoped his warm hands couldn’t feel the way your cheeks burned as he scrutinized you. you let out a breathy laugh mixed with a gasp as you realized how close he was. from here, you could see the green around his pupils, blooming into a gorgeous hazel. the wind teased the curls you’d longed to run your hands through. as if jolted by an unseen presence, he realized how close he was to you, quickly dropping his hands from your face and pulling away.

“uh, sorry,” he said, brushing off his pants as he stood.

“no, no, really, it’s okay. thank you. i usually practice my handstands at home, with lots of cushions around.” damn, he was so cute. you tugged your shirt down, suddenly feeling self-conscious in your tight, printed leggings, toes wriggling into the grass.

you stared at each other, unsure of what to say. was it wrong to want his hands back on your face, kissing you like his life depended on it?

“i’m y/n,” you offered.

“spencer.”

“well, it’s lovely to meet you, spencer. thank you again.” shit, was this really going to end here?

“yeah, uhm, you too. y/n.” the words brought a smile to your face, and you loved the way your name fit in his mouth.

he rocked on his feet, as if he were working up the courage to say something.

“okay... bye.” and just like that, he turned to leave. no, no no no no. fuck, think, y/n, think!

“hey!” you shouted, loud enough to startle him. as soon as he turned around, you were blurting out, “do you wanna go out sometime?”

***

you told spencer about your pronouns, along with your gender identity, on the date you’d scheduled for the following weekend, pending his schedule didn’t change. he didn’t offer up any information about his job, or what made his schedule so wonky, and you didn’t ask. you wanted to know anything you could about the man you’d seen at the park so many times, but you didn't want to push him.

you’d agreed to take a walk in the park before heading to a nearby restaurant for dinner. you wanted to give him an easy out, in case he changed his mind about you. you wore a simple top with linen pants and sandals, while he wore a more casual version of what you’d seen him wearing before. slacks, a button-down sans sweater vest, and converse. you met up at the tree you’d seen him reading under before, savouring the way he complimented you. beginning to walk the path, you worked up the nerve to confess your truth.

“so,” you began. “i’ve gotta get something out of the way.” you saw a flash of panic in his eyes, opting to continue before he could ask any questions.

“i’m nonbinary.”

he stopped walking, letting out a breath before turning to you. fuck, you thought. this is it. he’s gonna be scared off just like everyone else before him. considering how long you'd hoped for this moment, this would be the hardest loss of them all. but you couldn't compromise yourself, in the same way you wouldn't be able to change his mind if he thought your gender identity was too much baggage.

you were so caught up in your thoughts that you didn’t see the smile on his face. you also realized neither of you had said anything since your initial admission.

“spencer?” his name sounded like a plea, with a tinge of hope lining your voice.

“okay.”

“okay?” that’s it?

“what pronouns would you like me to refer to you with?”

the question was one you’d heard before, but it sounded so much... better coming from him. you felt a flutter in your heart, a smile budding on your face as he slipped his hand into yours.

“y/n," you reintroduced yourself. "they/them/theirs.”

he nodded at that, beginning to walk again. you didn’t expect him to speak again, and you definitely weren't expecting what he said next.

“spencer,” he said. “he/him/his.”

you squeezed his hand, the flutter in your heart replaced with something different, something... warm. you really hoped this would last.

***

ten months later, you were sat at the kitchen table, having breakfast for dinner, with your boyfriend recalling some conversation he’d had with the team.

“and i told morgan, y/n always stays up waiting for me on the couch, but sometimes she falls asleep and-”

he immediately froze, not missing the way you flinched behind your coffee mug. for a second, he thought he should’ve just kept talking, quickly correcting himself and continuing with the story. he knew you disliked when people made a big deal out of messing up your pronouns, but he couldn’t help himself.

“y/n, i-”

you were quick to cut him off.

“spence, it’s okay. it was an accident.” your voice didn’t reveal your hurt, but spencer didn't miss the look in your eyes, the way your brow furrowed as you tried to keep his slip up from getting to you. it wasn't personal. it was an accident. but it still hurt.

“y/n, i’m sorry. i’m so sorry.” he started rambling, leaving you no room to interrupt. “i’m sorry, i know your pronouns. i would never misgender you on purpose or do anything to hurt you.” he reached across the table, grabbing your hands and squeezing them tightly. “you’re my y/n/n, my beanie. i love you so much. i’m sorry.”

he'd started weeping at the initial mess up, but now he was fully crying, harder than you'd ever seen. it scared you more than it confused you. why was he so upset?

“spence, baby, it’s okay,” you begged him to believe you, but he only dropped his head against your hands, his tears wetting your skin. “spencer,” you said, more insistently.

you sighed, realizing he wasn’t letting up. you pulled your hands out from under his head, hoping he’d look up at you, but he dropped his head onto the table instead. what was up with him? seriously, people called you “she” all the time, and it was rarely malicious. you were used to it, but he was always bothered, correcting people so you didn’t have to. he really was the perfect boyfriend.

abruptly, you stood up, grabbing his arm and pulling with all your weight. he gave in, letting you drag him to the couch. you sat down, the worn leather squeaking as you tucked your feet under yourself. you tugged him down to sit next to you, cradling his head against your chest like he'd done with you so many times before when you were upset. you kissed his forehead and stroked his hair until his breathing slowed down.

“you okay, baby?” your words were met with a murmur, but it was better than nothing. “spence?”

you tilted his head so you could look each other in the eye.

“what’s going on, lovey?”

it was his turn to sigh, his nostrils flaring as his big ole brain searched for the right words.

“i’m sorry.”

you didn’t say anything, waiting for him to continue.

“i’m sorry. i didn’t mean it, but i know it still hurts. your pronouns are part of you, and i’ve seen first-hand how much it bugs you when someone refers to you as ‘she’ or ‘her.’ i know you take it personally, and i don't blame you. i know i'll never understand how much it affects you, or why, and i never, ever, want to be the person who makes you feel that way.”

“i know, spence, it’s okay.”

“but it’s not, y/n!” his words were frantic, but he took a deep breath to try and calm himself. “i’m sorry. i just, i’ve never messed up before.”

so that’s what is was. god, on the one hand, you were grateful he took it so... personally? no. you couldn’t put your finger on it, but the fact that he cared so much made you feel loved, and seen. he knew how much it hurt you, and it hurt him just as much.

“baby, thank you.”

he looked you right in the eye, confused as to why you were thanking him.

“thank you, for loving me. for being you. spence, i... i’ve never had anyone who’s cared so much. you’re right, it does hurt, but i love you. i know you didn’t mean any harm, and i know you would never do it on purpose. you don’t have to beat yourself up, okay?”

he still seemed upset, so you reached around, hooking your pinky with his. his lip quirked up at that, and he adjusted so he could press his palm to yours, entwining your fingers.

“i love you, beanie.”

“i love you, too, baby. so so much.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x nonbinary!reader #spencer reid x yn #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #ruby writes #nonbinary writer

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emy-loves-you · 4 years

Text

Wrong Numbers and Useless Gays Chapter 4

Sad Boys and Fun Facts

Patton’s a sad boi but Virgil has a distraction

Chapter 3 | Masterlist | Chapter 5

Three weeks had passed since Virgil had first texted Roman. In those three weeks, Virgil had learned a lot about his new friends.

First, there was Patton. God, did that man love puns. Virgil also loved puns, but he preferred reading Patton’s puns over making his own. Remus had caught Virgil blushing at his phone and made a comment about his new “friends with benefits” (Virgil had been unable to respond. He was too busy trying to hold back his giggles from one of Patton’s pun tangents). Patton also made it clear that he was the “Dad Friend” of the group. Virgil couldn’t type a single self-deprecating comment without Patton threatening to physically fight him. It was rather terrifying, really. He also made sure that everyone was taking care of themselves. Once they learned that they were in the same timezone (They hadn’t shared cities yet. Friend or no, Virgil was telling where he lived in that quickly) Patton made it his goal to check in and make sure that Virgil ate at mealtime. One last thing about Patton was his… struggle with technology. He tended to send almost everything directly to the group chat instead of private messages. Logan said that he tried to teach Patton how to do so, but the lessons never seemed to stick.

Speaking of Logan, the nerd had his own quirks. He didn’t type much, usually only responding when someone required everyone to respond. The other time that he typed was during debates. Nine days into their friendship, Virgil had mentioned saying “you too” to a cute barista and claimed that he ruined any chances with his new crush. While Patton and Roman offered words of encouragement, Logan remained silent. Virgil had assumed that Logan agreed with him but didn’t want to upset his boyfriends. As soon as their conversation ended, Virgil received a private text from Logan, requesting to debate. They argued over cognitive distortions for a whole hour before they reached a compromise. Logan had called the debate “lit” and asked if they could debate again in the future. That was another thing about Logan. Apparently, he had vocabulary cards for slang words. When he was talking out loud, he would hold the card up so the others knew what slang word he was attempting to use. When texting, he would put quotation marks around the word. It was adorable, in Virgil’s humble opinion.

Then there was Roman. Princey was known for his dramatic flair and Disney references. When he was feeling especially Extra™ , he would use “thees” and “thys” and call people peasants. He also had a love for nicknames. Patton had very few personal nicknames, with most of them being terms of endearment like “honey” and “amor.” Most of Logan’s nicknames pertained to him being a nerd, such as “pocket protector” and “Microsoft Nerd.” He seemed to have a limitless number of nicknames for Virgil, with most of them referencing his emo-aesthetic (how Princey had discovered that so early in their friendship, Virgil had no clue). He never repeated Virgil’s nicknames; the only exception was “storm cloud,” which he tended to use at least once every conversation.

Virgil had become extremely close with the trio over these three weeks. That wasn’t the only thing he did, just the thing he did most often. The Dark Sides had finalized their contract with Thomas, who set up a tour almost immediately. Virgil really should have seen that coming. Their band had become extremely popular over the past few years, and they had only done one tour before this. Performing across the country would help boost their popularity even further. Virgil sighed, his anxiety spiking at just the thought of seeing all those faces in the crowd. That was why he used the persona Anxiety. Anxiety wasn’t afraid of anything, he was fear. Being Anxiety allowed Virgil to be confident and suave without worrying about judgment. They judged Anxiety, not Virgil. The case was similar for Janus and Remus. Deceit was elegant and mysterious, while Duke was loud and over-the-top. They didn’t have to be rejects wanting to fit in with society. No, they were Rockstars. Society wanted to fit in with them. And Virgil was just fine with that.

Bzzz

Vigil glanced over at his phone. He was in Los Angelas right now, around halfway through his tour, which put him 3 hours behind his new friends. He glanced over at his clock, 9:45 PM glaring at him through the dark. He turned back to his phone. Why are they up at 12:45 in the morning? I know Logan keeps them on a rigid sleep schedule.

P- (9:45 PM) Ro? Are you still up?

V- (9:45 PM) Pat, why are you still up?

P- (9:45 PM) Why are you still up, kiddo? It’s almost 1 AM! Don’t you have a hangout with your friends today?

Virgil sighed, thinking of the concert he had tomorrow. He glanced over to his sketchbook. Patton had been really impressed with his sketches, so he had been practicing less gory drawings to show him. It had evolved into something almost therapeutic. Knowing how he worked, Virgil would probably sketch until around 2 in the morning, then sleep until 8 AM. The concert wasn’t until 7 PM, so he had enough time to sleep in if necessary.

V- (9:46 PM) First of all, you know I’m in California right now. It’s 9:46 for me. Second of all, we’re not hanging out until tomorrow night, so I can sleep in if needed. Third of all, you’re avoiding the question: What are you and Roman doing up at 1 in the morning? I thought you guys had work in the morning.

P- (9:47 PM) We do. Roman got a burst of inspiration at around 10, and he usually refuses to sleep until he writes it all down. He probably fell asleep at his desk, that silly billy!

V- (9:47 PM) That doesn’t explain why you’re still awake. And why didn’t you get up to check on him? I thought you guys lived together.

P- (9:47 PM) We do! I just couldn’t fall asleep tonight. And the bed’s too warm to get up!

V- (9:48 PM) Well, Princey’s probably being a “sleeping beauty”

Virgil frowned at his phone. Patton hadn’t responded to his text. Sure, that wasn’t a very good pun, but it was still a pun. Patton laughed at every pun he saw, or at least followed it up with another pun. He could be asleep, but didn’t he just say that he had trouble sleeping?

V- (9:50 PM) Pat?

P- (9:50 PM) Yeah, Kiddo?

V- (9:50 PM) Are you okay?

V- (9:52 PM) Patton?

V- (9:52 PM) I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. Just because you didn’t answer my pun doesn’t mean that there’s something wrong with you. I’m sorry that I sounded like an asshole.

P- (9:52 PM) No, Sweety. It’s fine! It’s nice to know that someone cares about you!

P- (9:53 PM) I’m just a little sad today.

V- (9:53 PM) Do you wanna talk about it?

P- (9:54 PM) I’m fine, Kiddo! This just happens sometimes. No need to worry!

Virgil sighed, thinking about how much Patton reminded him of Janus. Janus grew up neglected, and was taught to convince everyone that his life was perfect. By the time Virgil had met him, Janus was 19 and a compulsive liar. Virgil wasn’t much better, having just gotten kicked out of the foster system. Virgil lived with Janus (and soon Remus) until The Dark Sides had enough income for Virgil to live on his own (technically Janus had more than enough money for that- his parents were loaded. But Virgil wanted to have something that he earned. He wasn’t just some charity case). When they first lived together, Virgil could never tell what Janus was actually thinking. It took a lot of time and trust to separate Janus from Deceit. Now, he was still heavily sarcastic, and he tended to close himself off when he got upset, but Janus had come a long way.

Virgil looked back to his phone. Patton didn’t seem to have it as bad as Janus did, but you could never tell. At least he acknowledged that he wasn’t okay. There is the chance that something really is bothering him, but Virgil had to trust Patton on that note. It is entirely possible that Patton is just feeling down today; God knows how many times Virgil would question why he should get out of bed. He bit his lip. What helps me when I feel sad for no reason? He smiled, remembering when Remus would spout the most obscene things to distract himself from his own negative thinking. A distraction.

V- (9:56 PM) Did you know that giraffes can clean their ears with their own tongues?

P- (9:56 PM) What?

V- (9:56 PM) “Rhythm” is the longest word in the English language that doesn’t have a vowel.

V- (9:56 PM) Elephants are the only mammals that cannot jump.

P- (9:57 PM) More like Elecan’t!

V- (9:57 PM) Haha :)

V- (9:57 PM) Without food coloring, Coca Cola would be green.

V- (9:57 PM) A 3-year-old boy was elected as mayor in Dorset, Minnesota

P- (9:58 PM) No way!

V- (9:58 PM) Yes way! His name was James Tufts.

V- (9:58 PM) 7 different dogs have been elected as mayors in the US.

P- (9:58 PM) I love dogs! They’re such good boys!

Virgil smiled, adding Loves Dogs to his mental list of Quirky things I like about Patton Morale. They continued to talk about dog mayors for a while until Patton ended it abruptly.

P- (10:14 PM) Why are you doing this?

V- (10:14 PM) Doing what?

P- (10:15 PM) Why are you going out of your way to try and cheer me up? You should’ve stopped talking to me 20 minutes ago. Instead, we’re laying here at 1 AM talking about dog mayors! I would have been fine on my own. Why are you wasting your time on me?

V- (10:16 PM) Pat, if you tell me that I’m wasting my time talking to you, I’m going to have to physically fight you. You are my FRIEND. I care about you. When you’re sad, I WANT to cheer you up. When you’re happy, I WANT to laugh along to your punny jokes. Because I know, at the end of the day, if I was sad and needed someone to cheer me up, you would do it in a heartbeat. You, Lo, and Princey are amazing people, and my time spent with you will NEVER be a waste. I swear.

Virgil sighed, dropping his phone on the bed. He might’ve been too forward with that last text. But it was true. While the four of them weren’t nearly as close as Virgil was with Janus and Remus, he still cared about them a lot.

P- (10:18 PM) Thanks, Virgil. That really means a lot to me

P- (10:18 PM) I’m gonna try and get some sleep now

V- (10:18 PM) Alright Patton, Goodnight

P- (10:18 PM) Goodnight

The next day, Virgil saw a postcard in the window of a gift shop. It had a puppy with sunglasses on the beach, with cartoonish letters saying “Having A WonderFUR Time!” He took a picture and sent it to Princey.

V- (1:08 PM) What’s your address or PO? I wanna send this to Patton.

R- (1:09 PM) Say no more, Hot Topic!

V- (1:09 PM) Aw, you think I’m hot.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Taglist: @bisexualdisaster106 @self-taught-mess @itawalrus

#sanders sides fic #useless gays #LAMP fic #virgil sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #texting fic

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chocoluckchipz · 4 years

Text

Will You Help Me, Marinette?

Read it on A03, FF.net, WattPad

Halfway into her walk to work, Marinette’s phone chimed. An amused smile tugged at her lips. A new record. Usually, he’d text her first thing upon waking up. Had been for years. She was already starting to suspect something had happened.

Adrien: Help!

She rolled her eyes. If it were anyone else, she’d panic. But it was Adrien, an overgrown man-child to whose overly dramatic, exaggerated ways she was used to by now.

Marinette: I’m bringing you croissants. Don’t worry.

Adrien: U rock!

Adrien: But that’s not it. Can I ask you for a favour?

She stopped at the lights, looking around for cars and quickly ran across the street.

Marinette: Coffee? I’m about to walk by our café.

Adrien: Thanks, but not today. My photoshoot relocated at the last moment, so I won’t be in until much later in the day.

Adrien: I’ll still meet you at our cafe for lunch. Don’t order without me.

Marinette: :thumbs-up:

One end of her scarf got loose and seeing as Adrien was still typing, Marinette stole a moment to fix it, swaddling her neck away from the crispiness of cool air on the early April morning.

Adrien: Marinette, you’re my best friend and the luckiest girl I know, and you’re super smart and creative, so if anyone, you’d know what to do, and I really can use help now in something super important.

Adrien::puppy eyes: Please?

She didn’t bother suppressing a giggle, attracting a few glances from a morning crowd around her. Turning the corner, Marinette inhaled a warm aroma of fresh baked goods from a nearby café. She grew up and still lived in a bakery. She should've been used to this kind of thing. Yet this one was special. It was close to Gabriel’s office, and Adrien and she loved to frequent it during their lunches.

One of the servers waved at her, wishing her a good day. Marinette waved back, asking how their new kitten was adjusting. A brief exchange later, she walked on, a buzzing device in her hand reminding her of an unintentionally abandoned friend.

Adrien: T_T

Adrien: Are you ignoring me?

Adrien: Five minutes had passed. No answer. :sobbing:

Adrien: I thought we were friends? Friends help each other.

Adrien: …

Adrien: You do still like me, right?

She couldn’t hold back a chuckle. Such a drama queen and an incorrigible dork. Though, no one would ever believe her if she’d say that out loud that because in the public eye a supermodel, part-time CEO of a fashion empire Adrien Agreste was perfect in every sense of this word. Only his closest friends knew better.

Marinette: I beg your forgiveness, Your Highness. I was distracted by Pierre. How can I help you?

Adrien: :D You like me after all!

Marinette: I wouldn’t put up with your insufferable antics otherwise. Now, spill because I’m about to walk into the office and you’ll lose me five minutes after that.

Adrien: Okay.

Adrien: So…

Adrien: I’ve decided…

Adrien: To confess to the love of my life.

Marinette froze in her path, her heart sinking. Tightening her grip on her cellphone, she stared at the screen in shock. Adrien was in love with someone? Why didn’t she know about that? They’ve been friends for years, so how did she miss that the love of her life was in love with someone else? Her quickening-its-pace heart ached as Adrien continued to type.

Adrien: I tried to confess to her on my own many times but chickened out every single one of them because I’m terrified of ruining what we already have if she doesn’t feel the same for it’s amazing and wonderful and absolutely beautiful, but I’m also at a point where I NEED more. It’s getting too hard to be just a friend.

Adrien: So, I’m risking it and I need you to help me. As my oldest and best-est friend ever you must help me. Please, say you’ll help me?

A knife Adrien didn’t know he’d stuck into her heart twisted, ripping through tender flesh. Marinette bit on her tongue and closed her eyes, breathing in deeply. She needed a moment before she could reply, so walking into Gabriel’s building, she proceeded to the elevator and didn’t check her phone until she was safely in her office, settled in her chair.

Adrien: Marinette?

Adrien: I hope I didn’t ask for too much. You’re the only one I can trust with this.

Adrien: If you’d rather not, though, it’s fine. I’ll figure this out somehow.

Adrien: Are you upset with me? I’m sorry. I didn’t think this would be a big deal.

Adrien: … Please, say something.

Marinette read over the messages a few more times before dropping her head in her hands, propped on the table. This hurt. It ripped and crushed and devastated her, but as much as she’d love to run away and scream her pain out right now, Adrien was her friend first of all, and as his friend, she’d be supportive of him even if it hurt her.

Marinette: Sorry. I got distracted on my way. In my office now, so you have my full attention.

Adrien: T_T Don’t scare me like this. I already thought you hated me.

Marinette: Why would I hate you?

Adrien: Idk. Just a thought. So, you’re in?

Marinette: Are you sure you want me involved? Love confessions are kind of personal.

Adrien: Mari, please. I’m twenty-three. I don’t want to die an old maiden because I’m too chicken to confess to the most amazing, gorgeous girl around.

Marinette stared at the phone. She was also twenty-three, and ten of those years, she’d spent loving Adrien. All in vain, it seemed now. And yet, she couldn’t find it in herself to regret a single moment because Adrien had been brightening her days ever since their mothers became friends at a random book club meeting all those years back. She couldn’t desert him now, even if she wanted to.

Swearing under her breath, she cursed her inability to say No to him once again and typed.

Marinette: Alright. Let’s start with the name of the lucky lady.

Adrien: Can’t tell you.

Marinette: Seriously?

Adrien: Yes.

Marinette: How can I help you if I don’t know who she is?

Adrien: Keep me accountable. Bug me until I confess. Remind me every freaking minute that I can do it. Idk, threaten me or something. We’ve been friends for what? Almost fifteen years now? You know how I work and how to make me do things. That’s why I’m begging you and not Nino.

Marinette wished he’d asked Nino instead because helping Adrien confess to some girl was the least of Marinette’s desires.

Marinette: It’s going to be hard to suggest anything specific if I don’t know who she is, but fine. We’ll think of something. I get the front row seat at the wedding, though.

She wanted nothing less but Adrien couldn’t know that.

Adrien: Thank you! I’ll save you the best seat in the house… IF she accepts.

Marinette: Oh, please! You’ve got looks and money. Who would refuse you?

Adrien: See, that’s the issue: she knows me too well. She won’t be swayed by my looks or money. T_T Why do you think I’ve been stalling?

Marinette: Your dorkiness is finally catching up with you?

Adrien: Meanie.

Marinette: :P I’m sure everything will be fine. Now, is there anything you can tell me about her?

Adrien: She works at Gabriel.

Marinette tried to swallow the knot in her throat. Of course. Adrien must be in love with one of the models. He worked amongst the most beautiful girls in France every day, and who was Marinette? A junior designer in his father’s company? Not ugly or a failure per se but she was nothing to be proud of also. Marinette was just a girl whom he’d known her for most of his life and whose every fault he’d witness more than she’d like to admit. Nothing new and exciting to catch his attention. She was an idiot to ever dare to dream of him.

Yet, gritting her teeth together and pushing the thought aside, Marinette typed a response because he was her friend and he needed her help.

Marinette: You can ask her out to lunch for starters? Take her to our cafe. I’m sure she’d love it there.

Adrien: …

Adrien: But we always have our lunches together. I can’t betray you like that.

Marinette: I’ll be fine. I have a few designs I need to finish today, so I’ll eat at the work cafeteria.

Adrien: They don’t have your favourite.

Marinette: I can survive one lunch without an eclair. Or I can call Alya and meet up with her.

Adrien: Shoot. Gtg. Ttyl.

Marinette: Good luck.

Adrien: <3

Marinette put the phone away. dropping her head onto the table. They’ve been so close for years. How could she have missed that Adrien was in love with someone? Was she that blinded by her own feelings for him? If she wasn’t, maybe then she would’ve noticed and could’ve prepared herself and not feel this excruciating pain in her chest now.

Her phone chimed again. This time it was Alya, reminding her of their Friday night plans. Marinette briefly responded, not paying close attention to what she was saying, adding an invitation for lunch at the end. Not that she was eager to be in anybody’s company today, but it was better than sitting alone and obsessing over who Adrien’s lady-love was. She knew herself and right now she needed a distraction not to fall apart. So, pushing misery aside, Marinette pulled her work files and started on finalizing her sketches due by the end of the day.

Closer to noon, Adrien texted again. As he always did.

Adrien: Guess who’s all done and who’s so nervous about today, it showed in pictures and drove my photographer insane?

She bitterly chuckled. Classic Adrien.

Marinette: Nothing to be bragging about. I thought you were a professional?

Adrien: I am. That’s why I’m done already. All you have to do is to imagine spaghetti. :3

Marinette: Dork.

Adrien: Proudly so.

Adrien: Marinette, thank you. I REALLY appreciate you being with me on this one. Honestly, I just can’t do this alone, and I wanted to do this for so long now, I’m desperate. So, your help means a lot.

I don’t want to help you, Marinette grumbled to herself.

That’s what friends are for, right? she wrote instead.

Adrien: She’s just so amazing, it terrifies me to lose her, but I can’t imagine myself being with anyone else. We’re perfect for each other. I hope you’ll agree with me once you’ll see who I’m talking about.

Adrien: Okay, I’m downstairs. I’ll drop by after I see Father.

Marinette: Cool. See you soon.

She put her phone on the desk, pushing her designs away. Tears, successfully withheld by the distraction of work, surfaced at the corners of her eyes, as the reality of what was going on hit again. Adrien was in love with someone and that person wasn’t her despite Marinette’s most daring hopes because otherwise, Adrien wouldn’t be asking her for help.

Someone opened the door, walking in without an invitation. Marinette quickly wiped away the lingering moisture in her eyes. Adrien couldn’t see her crying or he’d know she was less than happy about this confession of his. She was heartbroken, but for his sake, she'd keep a brave face and smile until the end.

“Lila?”

“Didn’t except me?” The woman walked closer and settled in a chair opposite Marinette, a mug of coffee in her hand.

“Not really,” Marinette replied coldly. She hated Lila for lies and manipulations. Why M Agreste hired her as a model was beyond her. “What do you want?”

“I’ve come to warn you,” Lila said, ceremonially checking her nails.

Marinette quirked an eyebrow. “About what?”

Lila smirked, putting her mug down on a table. “Adrien and I are going public today, and we’d like you to stay out of it.”

Marinette inwardly growled. There was no way that could’ve been true! Yes, Lila was not so subtly trying to get Adrien’s attention for a while now, but as far as Marinette knew, Adrien was tolerating her antics only out of innate politeness and kindness of his heart, not affection.

“You’re lying,” she seethed. “Adrien had never mentioned—”

“That’s because he knew you don’t like me, and he wanted to spare your feelings since you’re his friend and all.” Lila shrugged. “But we’ve been secretly dating for a while now. Not anymore, though.” She smirked. “Adrien’s taking me out for lunch on our first official date today. But, to make it easier for everyone, I thought I’d warn you”—Lila’s face became stone-cold, her voice and glare matching—“stay out of my boyfriend’s life or you’ll regret it, Marinette.”

“What if I won’t?” Marinette barked without thinking twice. “He’s my friend. I have a right to—"

“You have absolutely no rights when it comes to my boyfriend.”

“I won’t believe it until I hear it from him personally.”

“You shall see it on the news tonight."

Lila’s sly smile promised nothing good as she stood up, picked up her coffee, and turned around to leave. Her hand swayed. Marinette’s blood ran cold because the mug in Lila’s hands tipped over, all of the coffee inside spilling all over Marinette’s desk, her sketches and her outfit. “Oops! Clumsy me.”

“You!” Marinette rushed to save what she could of her work.

“Stay away from Adrien or this will only be the start,” Lila whispered, leaning closer. “He’s mine.”

“Oh my gosh! What happened here? Marinette, are you alright?” Adrien suddenly appeared by her side.

“Adrien,” Lila cooed. “You’re just in time. We have to help Marinette. She spilled her coffee all over her hard work.” She picked up a few coffee-drenched papers, making a show out of trying to save them. “You’re such a klutz, girl. Let me help you before you do any more damage.”

Marinette glared at Lila, pressing her lips into a thin line.

“Marinette, are you okay?” Adrien took her by the shoulders and turned to face him.

“Of course, she isn’t,” Lila interfered. “Just look at her: the poor thing’s all soaked. And doesn’t she look pale to you? She might be getting sick. We should ask your father to give her a day off. Or better yet send someone to do that. We don’t want to be late for lunch. I'll go call someone.”

The moment Lila stepped out of the room, Marinette looked at Adrien and asked, “Are you really taking her out for lunch?”

Adrien pressed his lips together, looking away as he nodded.

Lost for words, lost for actions, lost for anything, all Marinette could do was to stare at the ground.

“It’s not—”

“Oh my gosh! Marinette, what happened?” Alya pushed Adrien to the side and took her friend by her shoulders. “You’re all soaked.”

“Found her wandering down the hall,” Lila looped her hand around Adrien’s arm. “She’s here to pick up Marinette for lunch which reminds me that we need to go now or we’ll be late for our reservation. The girls can take care of this mess by themselves, right Marinette?”

Marinette wanted nothing more than to slap Lila and take Adrien away. He deserved so much better! How could he fall for Lila? Didn’t he see what kind of a person Lila was? Didn’t he know how she felt about her? How could he ask her advice on this? Tears pooled in her eyes. Adrien was her best friend. She loved him, but this hurt too much. It felt too much as a betrayal, and if Adrien cared for her so little as to ask her for advice on how to woo her enemy, then Marinette didn’t want him to see how much that pained her.

“I’ll be fine with Alya.” Marinette turned away to gather her papers. “This is my mess; I’ll clean it up. You should go.”

“What’s going on here?” Gabriel Agreste himself appeared behind them.

“Marinette spilled coffee all over herself and her work,” Lila rushed to explain.

“Father, I think—”

“You should clean up and take a day off,” Gabriel interceded. “I’ll give you an extension on those. Now, Adrien. Why are you still here? Don’t you have lunch to go to?”

Adrien glanced at Marinette, then to his father. His lips pressed into a thin line. “Yes, I do.”

"Then off you go. Mlle Dupain-Cheng would be fine without you.”

“Right.” Adrien reached forward to lightly touch Marinette’s elbow. “I’ll call you later,” he mouthed and walked out the room with Lila Rossi on his arm.

Adrien didn’t contact her until the very evening when exhausted from the day, Marinette put the work she took home away and went for a stroll.

Adrien: Hey. Sorry, I had a few things to settle. How are you?

She closed her eyes for a moment, before looking back at the Seine. The gentle lure of waves calmed. It mesmerized and relaxed. Marinette always came here when she was stressed, or tired, or needed a pick me up. She couldn’t explain it, but there was something soothing and healing about gazing at the passing-by waters of the Seine. Her own safe haven, a little oasis in the desert of stress and chaos. Today, Marinette needed it more than ever.

Adrien: Marinette? Is everything okay?

No. Nothing was okay, and she’d rather not talk to him now, but… years of friendship and her treacherous heart demanded otherwise. He hurt her, but it was also him, who she wanted to comfort her right now. Pathetic, she knew that, but better texts than face to face.

Marinette: Everything’s fine. Taking a walk.

Adrien: Where are you off to?

Marinette: [image 1509]

Adrien: Pont des Arts?

Marinette: You know your Paris well.

Adrien took five minutes to reply, but when he did, he did so in person. “I know you well. You always come here when you need to calm down or to think things over.”

Marinette whipped around. Adrien was standing just a few meters away. Trying to catch his breath, he ran his hands through his dishevelled hair to fix it back in somewhat decent shape.

“Adrien? What are you doing here?”

“I need to ask you something.” He walked closer, stopping only when Marinette was pressed flash against the bridge, his hands on either of her sides, his face inches from hers. "Why didn't you expose her?”

Marinette blinked. “What?”

“You didn’t spill that coffee. Lila did. And don’t even try to deny it. You never bring drinks in your office unless it’s in an air-tight container because you think you’re too clumsy.”

Marinette shifted her eyes to the side. “I am clumsy.”

“Just a tiny, adorable amount. Nothing serious.” He cocked his head to the side. “So? Why did you let her get away with it?”

Marinette looked away. She hated Lila and Adrien knew that. What did he expect her to say? Why did he even come here? He should go back to that liar girlfriend of his.

“It’s so unlike you. I want to know what’s going on.”

She didn't know what to answer him, so she remained silent.

“Marinette, please? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not.”

“Then look me in the eyes and repeat that.”

She tried and failed. Adrien sighed and pulled her into his arms, whispering into her ear. “Marinette, please. Why did you allow her to walk all over you? You never did that before. What’s happened? You know I won’t leave you alone until you tell me.”

She closed her eyes. The gentle tone of his voice, the comforting wrap of his arms around her, his body’s warmth so close to hers… It stirred those damn butterflies at the pit of her belly, ripping through her heart at the same time… because he’d betrayed her. He’d fallen in love with the only girl whose guts Marinette hated more than anything and there was nothing either of them could do because who could control their heart? Adrien couldn’t help loving who he did… which, however, didn’t mean he could be so inconsiderate of her. He knew she hated Lila!

“Marinette?”

She pushed him away. It hurt to remain in his embrace any longer.

“Mari…”

“Leave me alone. Go to your girlfriend.”

His eyes widened as he stared at her in shock. “My girlfriend?”

“Lila.”

“Lila?!”

“Yes, Lila,” Marinette huffed, turning her back to him, her face to the Seine. “Can’t believe you had the audacity to ask me of all people for advice on that. You know how I feel about her!”

Her eyes focused on the rolling waves as Marinette waited for an answer that didn’t come for a few moments and not until Adrien walked to stand beside her, searching her face with his eyes.

“Just to make sure I understood you correctly: you think I’m in love with Lila?”

“Aren’t you? You took her to lunch just as you said you would.”

Adrien laughed, leaning on his arms to rest on the bridge. “Marinette, you know me better than that. I took Lila to lunch only because my father blackmailed me to do so.”

Marinette rolled her eyes. “A likely story.”

“No, really. He said Lila dug some dirt on him and her price for silence was me. And Father, knowing you’re my friend, threatened to fire you if I won’t comply.”

Marinette looked at him, her eyebrows knitted into a frown. “What?”

“Don’t worry, your job is safe, and I made it clear to both of them that I’m not taking part in any of their bullshit. If Father wants her silence, he’d better pay for it some other way.” Gently, Adrien cupped her shoulder, turning Marinette to face him. “Seeing what she did to you… it made me angry. I wanted nothing more than to protect you at that moment, and the best way to do that was to deal with the cause once and for all. So, I trusted Alya to take care of you, and I went with Lila only to ensure she won’t be troubling you again. And after that, I visited Father and we had a long talk about the situation. He won’t be bothering either of us again as well.”

Marinette stared at him for a few seconds before muttering without thinking. “What did you do?”

“Nothing significant. I explained to Father how serious I was about quitting Gabriel the moment you’re fired and we both know he can’t afford me walking out. Not with me owning half of the company in my mother's shares. Lila, though, was harder to get through. She kept dismissing me until I pretty much avenged you. Then she got the message loud and clear.”

As in a haze, she echoed, “What did you do?”

Adrien grinned. “I might have placed my plate of spaghetti in a strategic place for it to be accidentally tipped over and end up all over Lila.”

Marinette gasped. “What?!”

His grin widened. “I only placed it in the spot. She did all the job herself, and”—he leaned closer—“there might have been a reporter close by and he might have taken pictures if you are interested.”

“What? How?”

Adrien chuckled. “Lila hired someone to ‘witness’ and report on our ‘first date’. The guy reached out to me later to see if I wanted to buy the embarrassing pictures of ‘my girlfriend’ from him. I wasn’t interested, but I saved his card in case you are.”

Marinette stared at him for a moment, then erupted with laughter. “You’re horrible.”

“She deserved so much more after what she did to you.”

“Still, spaghetti?”

“Just using her own methods against her, and only because she wouldn’t listen to me when I was nice.”

Marinette chuckled. “Dork.”

“And you like me that way, don’t you?”

“I do,” she smiled, relaxing against the railing. She looked up at the stars and breathed in. So many worries for nothing. She should've trusted Adrien more.

“Marinette?”

She hummed, turning to him.

He looked hesitant, moving closer. “Were you jealous?”

Marinette squeaked, her face flaring crimson, as she shook her head. “No! Why would I be jealous? I—”

“You looked like you were jealous.”

“No, I wasn’t!” Her face burned hotter with every moment.

Adrien chuckled before turning serious and reaching out to cup her face in his hands. His touch, gentle and warm, sent electrical current down Marinette’s body. He slowly started to lean in. Her eyes widened with realization, fluttering close the moment his lips hesitantly brushed against hers.

“The girl I’m in love with is you, Marinette,” Adrien whispered, searching her face for a reaction. “You’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met, and I’m the fool who couldn’t find the courage to confess to you for years without asking you to keep me accountable because I’m terrified my feelings will ruin our friendship, but I can’t keep it in anymore. I love you, Marinette.”

Dumbfounded, Marinette stared back at him wide-eyed. “Me? You love me?”

His lips tugged in a hopeful smile as he nodded. "Will you give me a chance? I promise I’ll make you happy if you’ll let me be more than just a friend.”

Marinette forgot how to breathe. “Adrien—I… I don’t understand. You said—I thought—”

She froze, seeing his face saddened, and shook her head. No! What was she doing? She’d dreamed of this moment for years and now that it was finally here, why was she stalling?

He slowly pulled his hands away.

She couldn’t let him misunderstand her even if her reaction was puzzling to her herself, so she grabbed the collar of his coat and pulled him down, crushing her lips against his.

Adrien stilled. Then wrapped his arms around her and angled his head to deepen the kiss. She let him press forward, pushing her against the railing of the bridge as their lips moved heatedly in tandem, years of pinned-up love and desire spilling out. It was only when the air became a necessity, she pulled away breathless and smiled at him.

“I love you too, Adrien. Have been for years.”

His face lit up.

“And just like you, I was too scared to confess. Looks like we’re both hopeless idiots.”

Adrien pulled her closer, burying his face in the crook of her neck as he pressed a lingering kiss to a patch of exposed skin he found there.

“I’ve wanted to do this for years,” he whispered.

“You could’ve if you’d asked,” Marinette replied, running her fingers through his hair.

He leaned into her touch, almost purring from the pleasure. “Can I now?”

“Yes.”

He growled lowly, tightening his hold on her. “Mine.”

She giggled, wrapping her hands around his neck. “Possessive much?”

“Very.” He grinned. “Marinette?” Without letting her go, Adrien pulled a key with a ladybug keychain on it out from his pocket. “Will you also consider moving in with me?”

“What?” Marinette blinked. “Right away?”

He shrugged. “It’s not like we need time to get to know each other better. We grew up together. We know what makes us tick and what we like. Why wait?”

Marinette smiled. Adrien was right. They did know each other well. And it wasn’t like she hadn’t dreamed of sharing her days, her nights, her happy and sad moments, her dreams and fears, her life, her everything with him for years. Why wait indeed? “I’d love to move in with you.”

Adrien grinned harder and pulled her in for another kiss. Slow and sweet, filled with longing, and need, and desire.

“In that case,” he added, his voice raspy as he drew away and, pulling a small box out of his pocket, dropped on one knee. “Will you also consider marrying me?”

Marinette gasped as Adrien revealed a gorgeous ring inside.

“Adrien, you’re insane. What are you doing?”

“I thought I’ll ask everything in one go,” he admitted. “It took me years to confess, and I don’t want to wait that long for the next step. So why not? We can have a long engagement if you want, or you can say No now and I’ll ask again la—”

“No, you really are insane,” Marinette kneeled beside him, cupping his cheeks and kissing him slowly. “How can I say No to you?”

He grinned. “Is that a Yes then?”

“That’s a Yes.”

He held her gaze for a few moments, giving her that goofy, happy smile of his before shaking off his stupor and sliding the ring on her finger. “I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy in my life.”

“Me too.”

“I already looked up hamsters in my local pet store. They’re keeping a few for us to choose from until next week,” Adrien murmured. “You did want a hamster, right? Three kids and a hamster. We'll start with the hamster and add kids later—"

Marinette laughed and grabbed him by his coat’s collar again, pulling him closer.

“As much as I’d love to talk kids and hamsters with you,” she whispered. “Right now, I need you to kiss me senseless. Leave the rest for later.”

A lovesick smile tugged at his lips. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Marinette echoed, weaving her arms around his neck, losing herself to the caresses of the man she loved more than anything.

#miraculous ladybug #adrienette #adrinette #mlb #adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #fluff #dorks #miscommunications #but quickly solved #engagement #short #shortstory

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