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pengychan · 3 years

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[Coco] Mind the Gap, Epilogue

Title: Mind the Gap Summary: Modern Day AU. Tired of Ernesto’s snide remarks, Imelda decides to put him in his place and her husband is more than happy to help. It was supposed to be a one-night deal. Things quickly get out of hand. [OT3, mostly porn and humor. Plenty of instances of Ernesto being Dramatic, Imelda getting Sick Of His Shit, and Héctor trying to be the peacekeeper. Don’t expect anything serious.] Pairings: Ernesto/Héctor/Imelda Rating: Explicit.

Art by @swanpit.

[All chapters are tagged as ‘mind the gap’ on my blog.]

A/N: A family can be a mom, a dad, their baby, mom and dad's boyfriend who is also the baby's honorary uncle, a cat, and a total of five dogs.

***

“You know, you and your brothers had been baptized long before you were six months old.”

The speakers are not on, but Ernesto is still able to hear every word Imelda’s mother is uttering due to the disease that seems to affect many people the age of fifty - the certainty you absolutely need to yell into the phone for your words to be heard on the other side.

Imelda would very much appreciate not hearing them, if the way she drops the side of her head against the passenger side window with a thunk is anything to go by. “I am aware, mamá,” she almost groans. “But we’re doing it now, no? We’re on the way there, by the way, that’s what I called to let you kno--”

“And I am glad, but I cannot see any reason why you had to wait this long.”

Imelda’s head thunks back against the window just as Ernesto changes lanes to get past a car whose owner seems to be missing the foot that’s supposed to go on the speed pedal. Somewhere in the back, Héctor groans quietly.

“I had work to do, Héctor had work to do, and if we wanted to have the ceremony in Santa Cecilia we needed time to organize,” Imelda is gritting out. “I don’t see why we should have rushed things, considering that Coco is not at risk of imminent death. Nor has she had enough time to commit significant sins on the mortal plane.”

“Of course she has not, but you know it is important for babies to be baptized--”

“And besides, the Pope decided limbo is no longer canonical some ten years ago.”

“He also said it is no reason to delay--”

“Ah, we’re getting into a tunnel. Signal is bad. See you later,” Imelda snaps, and ends the call before dropping against the backrest with the expression of a luchadora who barely made it through the end of the match. “Remind me why cancelling the entire baptism out of spite is not a good idea?”

“Ceci worked really hard on the ropón and Coco looks beautiful in it,” Héctor speaks up.

“I already paid for the entire damn thing,” Ernesto supplies helpfully.

A chuckle. “Ay, we’re stuck, then,” Imelda says, and turns back to Ernesto. “... Sorry. What were you saying before the call again?”

“The concert next month. The latest piece Héctor wrote is a duet and we could use a woman’s voice. You should come with us, it will only be a couple of nights and you’d only need to be on stage for that song. Armando is already sold to the idea.”

It seems a very reasonable proposal to Ernesto, but Imelda frowns, pulling the car’s window down just enough to get some wind on her face. “I know he is, but I am not completely sold to the idea of leaving Coco in my brothers’ care for any amount of time.”

“It can’t be that ba--”

“You were not there when they came up with the self-rocking crib,” Héctor interjects from the back.

“The self-rocking crib?”

“Yes. Thankfully they tested it on Pepita first. She was not very happy about being ejected against the wall, but you know what they say about cats landing on their feet.”

“Ah.” Ernesto briefly debates whether he should tell them about the surprise the twins are planning. Not that he knows what the surprise actually is, they just briefly mentioned they were going back to Santa Cecilia a few days earlier than them to prepare… something.

Ah, it will be fine. Probably.

“Well, maybe we could find someone else to look after Coco,” he finally says instead. “Or keep an eye on them while they look after Coco. ”

Imelda hums. “I guess Ceci may be able to.”

“... Anyone else?”

“Don’t be like that, she’s her godmother.”

“Not yet she isn’t, you have time until tomorrow to change your min--”

“Your co-godparent,” Héctor pipes in. “Meaning that if anything happens to me and Imelda, you two will be morally obliged to step in and help her out. Together.”

“Uuugh. You both had better live long and healthy lives.”

A chuckle. “We’ll do our best,” Imelda promises, and for a time the car is quiet. Not for a long time, with Héctor speaking up again soon enough.

“Are we there yet?”

Ernesto sighs. And there he hoped he would stop asking. “No.”

“My leg is all pins and needles.”

“Wouldn’t have happened if you sat like a normal human.”

“But Coco needed me to hug the baby seat, she wouldn’t settle otherwise.”

“Well, she’s asleep now. You can let go.”

Sprawled across the back seat in order to keep his arms wrapped around the sleeping child on the baby seat, his left leg folded awkwardly beneath him, Héctor shoots a very offended look which Ernesto glimpses through the rear view mirror.

“No,” he declares with all the defiance of a father refusing to hand over his baby to King Herod himself to be slaughtered in the Massacre of the Innocents. Ernesto shrugs.

“Suit yourself,” he says, and keeps driving. A boring task right now, the road straight and mercifully empty. They should be in Santa Cecilia within a couple of hours, he estimates, give or take a few--

“Are we there yet?”

“Por Dios, I was prepared for the baby to be insufferable throughout the trip, but you’re worse,” Ernesto groans. On the passenger seat, Imelda rubs her temple.

“We could stop a few minutes, so Héctor can stretch his legs - don’t protest, you know you need it. I wouldn’t mind a break either,” she adds, and glances over at Ernesto. “Do you want me to drive the rest of the way? You’ve been at the wheel the entire time.”

“I can drive the rest of the way,” Héctor volunteers.

“Absolutely not,” Ernesto and Imelda say as one.

“Oh come on, if this is still about that thing with the level crossing in Colima, it was weeks ago and--”

“Coco is in the car,” Imelda reminds him, and Héctor promptly shuts up. When Ernesto pulls into a service station and stops the car in the small parking lot, he slowly disentangles himself from the baby seat. As Coco does not, in fact, bolt awake screaming in horrible pain the second he lets go, he finally gets off the car and takes a few steps.

Or rather, hops awkwardly on one foot while trying to regain sensation in his left leg. Imelda watches him hop towards the toilet with a chuckle, and turns to put a hand on Ernesto’s arm. “I’ll be getting coffee for both me and Héctor. Knowing you, I assume you’d prefer a beer.”

“I’m supposed to be driving--”

“Look at you, being all resonsible with a baby on board. But no, you’re not. I’ll take over from here,” she cuts him off, and Ernesto smiles.

“I’ll take two beers, then. One for me and one for the señorita in the back.”

Imelda laughs, and smacks his chest before she picks up her purse. “I’ll be right back. If the señorita in the back awakens and demands a drink, you know where the bottle and the thermos with her milk are.”

“I may have forgotten, Héctor only showed me sixteen times,” Ernesto calls after her, leaning against the side of the car. He arches his back to stretch, groans at the satisfying pop somewhere in his spine, and pulls out his phone. Sofía has sent him a photo showing the couch in Héctor and Imelda’s living room, currently occupied by four napping chihuahuas, an unimpressed-looking cat, and an upside-down Xolo dog.

Pet sitting them here is a lot better, she wrote. At least it’s not my shit they chew up. No shoes among the fatalities, though, so no need to castrate the big one. Tell Imelda that.

Ay, how unfortunate that Dante is getting the snip either way, Ernesto thinks, much like Diablo and Lobo did. He could have Clara and Zita spayed, true enough, but the procedure is more invasive and he’d rather spare them the ordeal if it can all be fixed, literally, by fixing Dante. They’ll book the appointment as soon as they get back, and then he and Héctor will have a drink in male solidarity. Soon, possibly before either Clara or Zita can--

“Bababababa!”

Ah, so the señorita is awake. Ernesto puts away the phone and sticks his head back into the car. “You called?” he asks, and Coco grins up at him with half a tooth, absolutely delighted. She reaches up with a squeal, and Ernesto grins back.

“You want me to pick you up? Is that it?”

“Aaaababah!”

“Is that a yes? I’ll take it as a yes.” Getting Coco out of her baby seat gets another delighted squeal out of her, chubby hands grabbing fistfuls of his shirt. He bounces her a bit and she gives a joyous laugh. “Ah, look at you. Don’t tell your papá I said it, but sometimes I get what he means when he--”

“BLEAGH!”

“Gah!”

Getting half-digested milk and apple puree all over his shirt is not what Ernesto expected to happen, but in retrospect he probably should have. To his credit he doesn’t give in to his first instinct, which is to drop the baby to tend to his shirt, so he will get to live another day. He just stands there, staring down at his ruined shirt, holding Coco at arms’ length.

Unaware - or maybe perfectly aware - of the mess she has made, Coco burps and laughs, legs dangling in what almost looks like a little dance. Ernesto sighs, and stares at her in the eye. “I take that back,” he informs her. Coco giggles.

“... I suspect I know what that look means. I will not be the one to change your diaper.”

“Paaa.”

“Yes, exactly. We’ll leave it to your--”

“She’s awake! She didn’t cry, did she? Coco! Papá is here!”

“Paaaaaaaa!”

Héctor takes Coco from Ernesto’s hands with a wide smile, not even noticing the condition his shirt is in, and twirls around with her in his arms, making her laugh harder. Ernesto would warn him not to spin too much, but it seems she’d already emptied her stomach, the little demon. In the end he just scoffs, gives her an offended look she absolutely ignores, and grabs a clean shirt from his luggage in the back of the car before he heads for the toilets to try and somewhat salvage the one he’s wearing. Maybe if he washes off the worst of it now, his mother will know how to fix the rest. He’s halfway to the toilets when Imelda calls out.

"Here's your beer, it's not as cold as you like it but-- ah. I see Coco got you."

Ernesto turns to meet her gaze, his expression solemn. “I am afraid your mother was right.”

“... Qué?”

“You’re too late. Your daughter has now definitely sinned on this mortal plane,” he declares. “Do you know how much I paid for this shirt?”

Imelda raises an eyebrow. “Ah, more than you should have. It doesn’t fit you that well. You should just arrive at your parents’ place shirtless. They’re used to seeing you shirtless by now,” she adds, and laughs at Ernesto’s indignant sputtering as he informs her that was low.

But then she kisses him and promises she will keep his beer in the ice box fridge until he’s back, and he can find it in himself to forgive the affront after all.

***

“... And this my mamá, see? Emilia. She is your other abuela, can you say abuela?”

“Abbwaba!”

“Heh. Close enough, querida. Close enough”

Sitting cross-legged before his parents’ grave, with Coco nestled comfortably in his arms, Héctor kisses his daughter’s head before turning back to the gravestone with a small smile. Ricardo and Emilia Rivera are smiling back from it, a few years younger than they were when they died.

Finding that photo was a struggle, because the gas leak that destroyed his home spared none of the family albums. Ernesto nearly tore down his own home, but in the end he was able to dig up a bunch of photographs from one of their very last Nativity plays - and among them was one photo of Héctor, looking a little embarrassed in his angel wings and fake halo, with his parents beaming at either side of him.

The original is now proudly displayed in the living room in Mexico City; Imelda’s parents have a copy, which Héctor always finds on their ofrenda when he and Imelda come to spend Día de los Muertos with them. Two cut-outs from a third copy are now gracing their gravestone.

I should make more copies. Just in case.

In his arms Coco squeals, and holds out a chubby hand towards the smiling faces of her grandparents. Héctor’s somewhat dampened smile brightens again.

“Mamá, papá, meet Coco. She’s very happy to meet you.” He bounces the child a little in his arms. “She crawls everywhere and puts everything in her mouth, just like you said I did. And she's got my eyes! Yours, mamá. Not the nose, thank God - no offense, papá, but… come on.” He laughs a little. “Ay, I shouldn’t complain. I mostly grew into it, like you said I would. I’m sorry you didn’t get to see that you were right. I’m sorry you don’t get to be here today.”

Héctor pauses a moment, and kisses Coco’s head one more time before he speaks again. “... I wish you were here to give me advice, but I’ll do my best to be as good a parent as you were. I, uh. Well, my family is not really traditional now, I guess. I don’t know if you’d approve. I don’t know if you’d understand. I’m both relieved and sad I may never get to know, and then sad I’m relieved at all because-- either way, I wish you were here.”

He pauses, and swallows. Oblivious to the painful lump in her father’s throat, Coco has managed to grab a flower and is trying to put it in her mouth. He takes it out of her hand gently, placing it back before the grave. “But I wanted to tell you, I believe I am doing the right thing. And I am very happy. We are all very happy, and doing our best, and that… that is the most important thing, I think.”

Their smiling faces stare back, forever unchanging. He never got to see their bodies - he was told it was for the best - and now he is glad of that. This is how he wants to remember them: whole, and alive, and always smiling. They would smile today seeing their granddaughter, he’s sure. He likes to think that somewhere, they still are.

Coco sure is smiling plenty for someone with only half a tooth, still babbling and trying to reach out for the faces on the gravestone. Héctor holds her a bit closer, and her hands press on the glass over the photos like she’s trying to grab those smiles for herself.

“Abbwaba,” she chirps, and laughs like someone just told a really great joke.

Must be papá. Mamá’s jokes were terrible, Héctor thinks, and when Coco turns to look at him again, laughing, he laughs just as hard.

***

“Oh, you look so handsome!”

That is something Ernesto usually appreciates hearing - he appreciates it very much, truth be told - but it does lose some of its appeal when the person saying it is your mother as she circles you to make sure your jacket looks absolutely spotless.

“Uh, yes. So, are we ready to--”

“Isn’t he handsome, Estéban?”

Estéban de la Cruz, who clearly needs help getting ready far more than Ernesto ever did - anything vaguely more elegant than an undershirt seems to make him ill at ease - glances over and gives him a shrug that probably translates to ‘I have to listen to this every day, now it’s your turn’.

“Looking good,” is all he says, causing Ernesto to blink. This kind of thing, his father looking at him and talking to him like a normal specimen of homo sapiens, is something he has yet to get entirely used to. He remembers times when he saw his father sitting on the couch while staring at the wall in an alcohol-induced stupor, and being both relieved and frustrated by it. A part of him rejoiced at the chance to just pass by unnoticed and spare himself one of his moods, while the other wanted to grab him by the shirt and shake him, knowing full well it would amount to suicide.

I am here, damn you. I’m right here. Look at me.

“So handsome,” Adela repeats for the eleventh time, snapping him from his reminiscence. “You know, you should find someone.”

As his father looks suddenly very busy fiddling with the buttons of his jacket, Ernesto holds back a groan. “Mamá, can we not--”

“You know Mirela’s son? He’s a nice boy too, and word is that he also may be--”

Oh no. No no no no no, this is not happening.

“Ay, look at the time, I really need to go! See you in church!” Ernesto yells, and sprints to the door, almost forgetting to pick up the sack of coins on his way out.

***

“That’s a very generous bolo.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me. Ceci would never let me hear the end of it if I gave anything less.”

“Ah, don't be modest. You wanted to be a good godfather and bring plenty of good fortune to your goddaugh--"

“No, it was definitely Ceci."

"Ah." As children swarm around them to pick up the frankly astounding amount of coins Ernesto has scattered around, Héctor laughs and puts an arm around his shoulders. “Ay, don’t worry, mi amigo. I have a song in mind that will more than make up for your losses.”

Ernesto, newly-minted godfather, snorts. “It had better,” he says, elbowing him in the ribs, but his lips are already curling in a smile. Héctor lets out a yelp that’s mostly for show, and looks over to where Imelda is standing, clad in a beautiful dress Ceci insists on tailoring just for her along with Coco’s pure white ropón.

“No, no purple, for God’s sake,” he remembers Ceci muttering as she took Imelda’s measures. “This is your child’s christening, not Lent!”

Imelda does favor purple over most colors, but she looks stunning in the blue dress as she speaks to guests, Coco squirming and giggling in her arms as Óscar and Felipe make faces at her. She gets to make some noise now, after being on her best behavior through… most of the ceremony, a few drum-shattering shrieks aside. Héctor finds himself smiling dreamily.

“She is beautiful, isn’t she?” he sighs, and Ernesto raises an eyebrow.

“Imelda, or Coco?”

“Both.”

“Heh. Yes,” Ernesto concedes. For a few more moments they just look on, side by side. For just a split second Héctor allows himself to wish circumstances would allow him to grab Ernesto’s hand, but he knows better than that; they will not go out of their way to hide, but they have got to be practical. If there is anyone present at the moment they may try to come clean to first, it’s probably-- ah, speaking of them…

“Ernesto?”

“Mmh?”

“The twins are planning something during the reception, aren’t they?”

“Of course they are. It may or may not involve explosive material.”

“Por Dios, tell me you talked them out of it!”

“Why would I? I like fireworks.”

To the boys’ credit, the display is pretty spectacular. The only casualty is a perfectly replaceable tablecloth, and Coco’s sheer delight as she claps at the lights, nestled in her grandmother’s arms, is well worth the loss.

It also causes enough of a distraction for the three of them to slip their arms under the table and hold onto each other’s hands for a few moments, squeezing tight.

***

“Home, sweet home!”

Héctor’s dramatic declaration would be more accurate as ‘bed sweet bed’, really. When they made it back to their apartment it felt anything but sweet, with a baby cranky from the long trip and five dogs, plus a cat, either very offended by their absence or bouncing off the walls, frantic for their attention after a grand total of two hours on their own after Sofía left.

It took about an hour to put down their things, feed the pets, feed the baby, take the dogs out and put Coco in her crib. Then, and only then, can the three of them collapse on the bed and breathe in a sigh of relief.

“We survived,” Ernesto mutters into the pillow.

“Seems like it,” Héctor groans. “Now we can sleep.”

And then, of course, Coco starts crying. It takes Imelda approximately half a minute to pick her up, decide she’s not going to be able to keep standing on her own two feet long enough to soothe her, and return to their bed with her. She lays down with her and Coco settles quickly, nestled securely in her arms. She never moves around when asleep and Pepita is keeping watch as always, so it’s safe enough, Imelda reasons with a yawn. She only realizes she forgot to close the door when Pepita jumps in, curling up next to Coco. She groans.

“For the love of God, close the door before--”

“BOOF!”

“Yip! Yip! Yip!”

“Agh-- Dante, no, wait--” Héctor trails off with a yelp when Dante jumps up on the bed, landing across his legs and just barely missing his crotch with a clumsy paw. Out of the corner of her eye, Imelda notices Ernesto reaching down.

No dogs on the bed, she wants to say, but Dante is already up and she is tired enough to admit defeat, at least this once. She sighs and shushes Coco while she falls back asleep, trying to ignore Ernesto’s little monsters as they snuffle around to find a spot to snooze. Once they finally settle, Imelda closes her eyes and tries to sleep. And tries. And tries.

On the pillow, Pepita is purring away. The dogs are mostly silent, except for the occasional twitch and half-snore. Coco is suckling on her thumb as she sleeps, Héctor is breathing with his mouth open as usual, and Ernesto is snoring softly behind her. She could blame any of those things for the lack of sleep, but she knows that’s not it.

Finally, quiet and careful to stir no one, Imelda half-sits and looks across the bed she used to share with Héctor and no one else, and that used to feel so large.

It’s quite crowded now, with the three of them and Coco resting on it, Héctors’ limbs splayed in all directions and Ernesto a solid presence behind her, their pets filling up all remaining space. Not a single gap left.

It is perfect. It is whole.

It is home.

Imelda nods silently, and leans back down. She tucks a lock of hair behind Coco’s ear, kisses her forehead, and closes her eyes with a sated smile.

***

Aaaand it's over, yet another fic that got out of hand and ended up at least three times longer than planned! Hope you enjoyed the read as much as I enjoyed writing it.

(Also, letting a baby sleep in the Big Bed with mom, dad, their boyfriend who is also a honorary uncle, their cat and their five dogs is really cute in fiction, but can go very wrong in reality if someone turns in their sleep. Don't do that.)

#pixar coco #ernesto de la cruz #hector rivera #imelda rivera #coco #mind the gap

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joonapeach · 4 years

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you, me & a little bit of the future [mlb]

summary: Marinette expects some disaster on her first outing alone with Adrien. She just doesn’t expect that disaster to be her future self passing off a baby for her to take care of with Adrien.

alternatively… two idiots obliviously in love cooing over their daughter while acting like they have no idea whose kid this is.

author’s note: i spent my birthday writing mlb fanfiction because that is my biggest source of serotonin. also, if you follow me for bts and have no idea wtf mlb is - first of all, sorry. second of all - give me your brain bc i really wish i could rewatch this dumb show for the first time.

also reposted on ao3

[11.2k words of a fluff/humor and time travel x accidental baby acquisition trope]

If Marinette was still breathing by the end of today… she decided that she would give her life to worshipping Alya.

The girl was a magician, maybe even an angel. There was no possible reason for Marinette to be standing here in an empty museum, waiting for Adrien to fetch a bottle of water for her and yet… here she was?

“Alya, first of all, how did you make this happen?” Marinette squeaked on the phone, looking around to make sure she was out of Adrien’s earshot. “And second of all - I don’t know if I can do this!”

Alya’s familiar laugh came through the call. “Relax, girl! Adrien wanted Nino to go inspect his new wax statue with him but of course, Nino just needed a nudge from your greatest friend in the world to give up his invitation to you.”

Scratch worshipping just Alya. If Marinette hadn’t combusted by the end of this museum outing, she would worship both Nino and Alya together.

“I love you.”

“Try to tell that to Adrien today.”

“I will,” Marinette nodded with so much excitement that it was a wonder her head didn’t spin off. “I promise. I’ll make the most of the opportunity you’ve given to me. You’re the best, Alya!”

Alya only laughed, clearly amused by her friend’s joy. “Well, good luck and tell me how it goes!” she said before cutting the call.

Marinette sighed dreamily. Alone in a museum of art with Adrien, the greatest work of art she’d ever seen… it all felt like a dream.

She paused, quickly pinching herself. The pain registered a second later and she laughed giddily. This was no dream. It really was happening.

From the corner of her eye, she spotted Adrien walking towards her. A bottle of water was clutched in one hand as he waved with another. Was it possible to melt from someone’s smile? Marinette hadn’t thought it likely till she traced the curve of Adrien’s lips with her eyes just now.

“Here you go, Marinette,” he said cheerfully. He reached for her hand, putting the bottle on her palm. It was a relief that the water felt like ice to her skin because Adrien’s bare second of a touch made her scared of combusting.

“Th-thanks!”

“No problem! Thanks for coming today. I know it’s such a short notice since Nino cancelled in the morning, but I really wanted to see the wax statue with a friend,” he said softly. “I’m glad it’s you.”

Glad it’s you? How could anyone say such things to a person with that heartstopping grin and then be so oblivious to the world falling in love with them?

Marinette did her best to yelp out a semblance of a response, giving a toothy smile in the silences of the words she couldn’t find. It seemed to satisfy Adrien enough who only laughed and said, “come on!” as he dragged her through the empty museum.

Adrien’s hand. Touching mine.

It really would be a miracle if she was still breathing by the end of today.

Things were going perfectly. Well, as perfectly as things could ever go in Marinette’s life.

In a total of ten minutes, their arms had brushed 13 times and he’d laughed 5 times at something she’d said. He’d given her his show-stopping, sincere smile 3 times and she’d come near to death from them 2.5 times - the 0.5 she subtracted was when she wasn’t looking and only caught sight of his grin at the very last second.

Despite the empty silence of the museum, Marinette was surprised at just how two people alone could fill the room. Of course, it helped that one of the two people was the equivalent to the worth of a country itself but still… something about the familiarity in Adrien surprised her. He’d left her speechless and lovesick but there was also a feeling in comfort in being with him.

There was only ever one other person she felt like that around.

“Hey Marinette, I’m just gonna go to the bathroom real quick!” Adrien said, with another friendly smile she chose not to look at it too closely. When she nodded, he ran off and she stood in the empty room.

Finally, her heart could take a break from racing.

She exhaled, looking around until a sudden flash of light almost blinded her. She jumped back, ready to say the words spots on at the sight of danger till she frowned at what she heard.

“Do you ever not make this more difficult than it needs to be, kitty?!”

Marinette stilled. She recognized that voice. Yet, it was still not as familiar as the one she heard next.

“You know I can’t paws an opportunity to be entangled with you, my lady.”

The other voice scoffed. “That was terrible, even for you. Now, get off me.”

There was a certain threshold of weirdness Marinette had learned to tolerate in her time as Ladybug. Evil butterflies around the city, mini talking God-pets, monsters popping up during her Physics class… that was all fine.

Hearing her own voice repeated back to her was not. This was treading on a new kind of weird.

Marinette hesitantly stepped forward, following the voices. Behind a big column, she could hear the two bickering people. She checked on Tikki in her purse, who was fast asleep. She couldn’t wake her up for a threat she still hadn’t confirmed.

“Now… she’s bound to be here somewhere,” the voice like hers said. “Chat, can you go bring Emma through another portal?”

“That’s an awful lot of faith you have in a fifteen year old girl to say yes without even asking.”

Marinette heard the amusement in her doppelganger’s voice. “I think I’d know my fifteen year old self better than you.”

Another flash of light came and suddenly, the conversation stopped. Marinette’s heart was back to racing, this time from apprehension as she looked behind the column.

She was certain. This was not in the threshold of weirdness she could learn to tolerate.

An older, fitter Ladybug was staring her in the face. Her raven hair was bunched in longer buns around her neck and she towered over Marinette in height. Everything about her exuded confidence and the presence of… a real superhero.

The only telltale sign Marinette could find of her being a person was the awkward, gaping smile she gave.

“Um… hi,” Ladybug said, giving a stiff wave.

Marinette blinked. Then she screamed.

Ladybug raced forward, clamping her hand over Marinette’s mouth. “Oh my God, was I always so easily frightened?” she mumbled to herself in distress. “Marinette, it’s me. I mean- it’s you. It’s you-me. Hi.”

Hesitantly, the hand over Marinette’s mouth slipped away. “What do you mean you-me?” she narrowed her eyes, an urgent distrust in her voice. “Who are you?”

Ladybug’s voice softened. “I’m you. From the future, ten years from now. I’m twenty six year old Marinette,” she grinned, fluffing her two buns. “Pretty cute, right?”

Marinette’s guard didn’t lower. She backed away slowly. “I don’t believe it. You must be an akumatized person… or a trick from Hawkmoth! What do you want with me?”

Ladybug stretched her limbs. “I can’t even blame you for being on edge. I know how tense things were when I was your age,” she mumbled.

“Hello? Who are you?” Marinette repeated. She put her hands on her hips, trying to make herself look more intimidating. “If you’re really me then you should-”

“How’s the Adrien-in-white poster project going?” Ladybug sighed, asking with a resigned shrug. “Right about now, the new spring shoots must’ve come out, right? That shot of him in the white polo by the trees is the prettiest. The green background makes his eyes pop and makes him look like an angel des-”

“Descended from heaven,” Marinette blinked, breathlessly. “Oh my God.”

“Still don’t believe me? Around last month, you broke your phone and asked for three months’ allowance to get it repaired instead of just buying a new one because you told everyone you had some design files that you forgot to back-up, when it was really just saved photos of Adrien from-”

“Okay, okay, I believe you!” Marinette cut her off, red creeping up her neck and turning her face into a bright tomato.

Despite her embarrassment, Ladybug only smiled wistfully. She ruffled Marinette’s hair. “Sorry to crash your date, little me,” she said with a grin. “But I have a huge favor to ask.”

“A favor?”

Ladybug nodded. “Yup. Straight from the future. Your twenty six year old self kinda depends on you right now.”

Marinette squared her shoulders. “What is it?” she asked determinedly. “Is Hawkmoth still causing trouble? What do I need to do?”

Ladybug laughed, suddenly looking sheepish. “Um… it’s a little less complicated than that,” she admitted. “You see… you- I mean, me… we kind of are in the midst of a little fight against a villain in the future. It’s crazy. We’ve been fighting for two days and he still won’t let go.”

“Do you need my help?” Marinette asked with confidence. A fight in the future… she could do that. Paris was her priority in any case.

Ladybug giggled. “Well, yes. But not in fighting. You see, in between all the battles, I keep having to go home and detransform because of a little thing. A very cute, little thing. Everyone is so caught up in the chaos of the city that I’m having trouble being Ladybug and Marinette at the same time. That’s where I thought little me could come in handy?”

Marinette raised her eyebrows.

“Little Mari,” Ladybug said with an adoring smile. “How would you feel about babysitting?”

Marinette’s jaw dropped. Her head turned left and right, scanning the empty museum before looking back at Ladybug. “Do I have to babysit Manon again on the only day I get to be with Adrien?”

Ladybug laughed. “Well, it’s not Manon this time. This kid’s a little younger. She’s almost one and she’s an angel. I think you’ll quite like her,” she grinned mischievously. “You see, it’s my daughter.”

Her daughter?

No words came to her mind except the phrase repeating. Her daughter.

Marinette was staring at a twenty six year old version of her, far more confident and chic than her and now, this woman had a daughter. Marinette would have a daughter in ten years.

A wide smile broke out on her face. At sixteen, she only ever knew the kind of love she could see around her, for her parents, her friends, Adrien, for her partner… but now, one day, there’d be more to that. Suddenly, she couldn’t stop smiling.

“My… daughter?”

“Yup. Congrats future-mom. We’re quite a good mother if I do say so myself,” Ladybug smirked. “Though I’m pretty sure our husband is half the reason why we’re so good.”

Now, a blush spread across Marinette’s cheeks. A husband. Marinette couldn’t even imagine having a boyfriend, not with how tongue-tied she got around every boy she liked but somewhere in the future was a man she loved who loved her back. A man who was raising a child with her.

At her shell-shocked expression, Ladybug laughed affectionately. “I didn’t even tell you a thing about our daughter or husband but you look like you’re already on cloud nine. You really aren’t ready for the future yet. Good thing you have ten years to prepare.”

“Who… who is my husband?”

Now, a twinkle of amusement flashed in Ladybug’s eyes. “No cheating. All I’ll tell you is… he’s a lovely man. You love him very much. A bit embarrassingly much.” There was a hidden joke somewhere in Ladybug’s words but Marinette didn’t laugh, still too shaken by the prospect of being married with kids of her own.

“What’s… can I ask my daughter’s name?”

“I’m surprised you need to ask.”

Marinette couldn’t fight a smile. “Emma,” she laughed. “Well, I’m happy our future husband wasn’t against our suggestion.”

“Oh, he can’t refuse a single thing we say. You’ll see,” Ladybug smiled. “Well, hopefully at some point. If we manage to end the fight and keep Emma from crying all in a day’s work… so can I trust myself to take care of her?”

Marinette nodded excitedly. “Of course.”

“Thank you little Mari,” Ladybug sighed in relief. “You won’t believe how badly I needed this help.”

Was it possible to be starstruck by your own future self? Marinette felt she was hanging off every word Ladybug was saying, drawn in by the assurance and ease she spoke with. She wondered if this was how the rest of the world felt now when she spoke as Ladybug.

“Anything for you!” Marinette blinked with glittering eyes. “You must… you must be doing so well. Ten years and you’re… wow. That’s me.”

Ladybug giggled. “You’re doing well too, you know. For one, I’m glad you haven’t combusted on your date with Adrien yet.”

Marinette flushed, before blinking in shock. Adrien. “Wait! I have to tell Adrien I’ll have to cancel! So I can take Emma home while you-”

“Oh, I don’t think you need to do that. You can keep her around with him,” an entertained look passed in Ladybug’s eyes. “I think it’ll be good practice.”

“Practice for what?”

Ladybug cocked an innocent brow, suddenly distracted by her surroundings. Marinette was about to repeat the question till the familiar flash of light from earlier came again. Chat Noir came tumbling out of the portal, a baby strapped to his chest.

Marinette blinked. If she was looking at twenty six year old Ladybug then… this was twenty six year old Chat Noir.

She swallowed. The years had been- would be kind to her kitty… if she could still even call him that in the future.

She was far too used to the flirty school boy under the name of Chat Noir but this was someone else entirely. For the first time in her life, Marinette found herself at a loss for words in his presence.

Chat’s eyes flickered from Ladybug, a glance filled with lasting adoration, to Marinette. A sudden amusement crossed his expression that Marinette had trouble deciphering. Somewhere between glee and satisfaction.

He inched closer, offering a hand to shake. “Well hello there,” he grinned before looking at Ladybug and saying, “you know, I almost forgot how adorable you were.”

Marinette squeaked. “You know who I am?”

“In the future, he does,” Ladybug reassured, poking Chat’s nose in an all-too-familiar way. “Don’t fret. He’s just playing.”

Chat looked almost offended by the statement. “I am not. I mean it sincerely. You were the cutest thing at sixteen.”

Ladybug cocked a teasing brow. “Is that really a thing to say about just a friend-”

Chat pressed a finger to Ladybug’s lips, throwing a smirk Marinette’s way. “You can’t be handing out spoilers like that for your mini-self. Look how innocent she is. We can’t deprive mini Chat Noir of the satisfaction when it all comes out in the open.”

Ladybug scoffed. “This is why I didn’t want you to accompany me. You’re just getting a kick out of seeing me like this, aren’t you?”

“Can you blame me? It’s hard to keep a straight face when I now know what’s really going on in the sixteen year old pretty princess’ brain,” he said with a wink.

Marinette’s heart faltered at the display of adoration and comfort between the two future selves of her and her partner. She and Chat were always close but this… this was new. The doting expression in Chat’s eyes when he looked at Ladybug wasn’t new but the reciprocated devotion in her own future self’s eyes was.

He was still in love with her, ten years later - that was easy to tell. But she wondered how to interpret the feeling that made her feel like suddenly, she was too.

Ladybug reached for Chat’s chest, unwrapping a small sleeping baby from the blankets. Ladybug pressed a loving kiss on the baby’s forehead before looking at Marinette. The two shared a silent smile.

Gently, the baby was placed in Marinette’s arms. Her heart paced at the weight of a life cradling against her chest.

A sudden anxiousness pooled her thoughts. “Can I… do you really think it’s the best idea to give your kid to me?”

Chat was the one to answer. “It’s your kid too, Marinette.”

Her name, her real name, off his lips made her shiver. There was a future in which he called her by that. It sounded so pleasant to her ears that she almost wished that that future could be now.

“But… you know what I mean! Not sixteen year old, clumsy me! It’s your kid. The me who’s put together and… you know, can actually handle walking with a child and not tripping over air and-”

Chat’s laugh broke her rant. “The fact that you think you’re any less clumsy ten years in the future is adorable. I don’t think you’ll ever recover from that.”

“Chat! I’m right here!” Ladybug poked the tall, towering kitten away before turning to Marinette. “You’ll be fine. I promise. You can trust your future self’s judgment, can’t you?”

Marinette swallowed, glancing down at the girl in her arms. For the first time, she looked carefully at the daughter she would one day hold for the rest of her life. She was a beautiful sight. Her cherub cheeks stuck out in her sleep and strands of dark, midnight hair just like Marinette’s covered her face. She wondered whether her eyes were blue too, just like hers.

Marinette smiled. “Okay. I’ll do my best.”

Ladybug grinned, giving a squeeze to Marinette’s shoulder. “I owe you. Well, technically I don’t because future-you has a lot of good in store that current-you would never believe. But thanks,” she laughed. With ease, her hand slipped into Chat Noir’s as she walked away with a wave.

Marinette’s eyes zeroed in on the sight. At the last second, Chat Noir glanced back at her and a strange feeling leapt through her heart. He smiled. “Don’t worry Marinette. You’re a natural mother.”

The two disappeared in another flash too quick for Marinette to notice. She blinked, thinking of the words Chat had left her with and the intertwined hands… what ever was in store for her future with Chat? Surely… surely, what she was suspecting couldn’t be-

In her arms, the baby moved. Marinette stilled, glancing at her daughter as she woke from her nap. Her arms stretched and she showed a warm smile as soon as she looked up at Marinette. Emma.

“Maman,” Emma said happily. Marinette had never thought she’d find a word she loved the sound of more than Adrien. Now she had.

When she stared at her daughter, she memorized every small feature. This time, she got to see her eyes, wide and awake. While Emma had Marinette’s dark hair, her eyes were a deep shade of green.

Adrien had never considered himself a narcissist. But looking at the broad, tall body of his future self was making him reconsider his stance.

“Plagg. Are you seeing this? I’m so cool,” Adrien grinned excitedly, staring at the Chat Noir in front of him. “This is the best day ever.”

Chat grumbled, hiding his face with a few fingers. Even his fingers were big enough to cover his face. Adrien blinked at what ten years was going to do to him. Despite his title of a model, he hated to indulge in complimenting himself but at this second… he could only say that there was no way Ladybug could reject his twenty six year old self. Adrien grinned with the thought. He could wait ten years to woo his lady if this was the payoff.

“Can you listen, kid?” Chat sighed. “I don’t have much time to give you a pep talk before Ladybug starts panicking at why I’m not back yet,” he mumbled to himself.

Adrien could only laugh, still on a high. “You’re me! From the future!”

Plagg’s eyes narrowed. “What kind of diet plan is future-you on?”

“I don’t know, but isn’t it amazing?!” Adrien said with a grin. “Why are you here? Wait… you’re here to give me a message, aren’t you?”

Chat took a few seconds to stare his younger self in the face. Adrien wondered why it looked like he was on the verge of exasperation. “I wish I could give you ten messages. But even then, I don’t know if it’ll help your hopeless case,” Chat said with a snicker.

Adrien’s mouth dropped. “Plagg… is my future-self bullying me right now?”

Plagg shrugged. “I have no objections.”

“Listen,” a hand clamped down Adrien’s shoulder. Adrien squeaked an inhumane sound at the grip of his future self’s hand. “You know that girl you have a crush on?”

“Ladybug,” Adrien nodded with a lovesick smile.

Chat’s lips tightened into a thin line, unamused. “This is gonna be harder than I thought,” he sighed. “Was I really this oblivious?” he mumbled to Plagg, completely ignoring Adrien’s distraught confusion.

Plagg laughed. “Oh, this isn’t being oblivious. This is just denying the truth. You love acting like you have no idea. I hope you’re a bit better in the future, for my mental health’s sake.”

“Plagg, shouldn’t you be siding with the version of me that actually belongs in your time?!” Adrien whined. “What’s this about?”

Plagg and Chat shared a look. Chat fought a small smile before trying again. “Alright buddy. See, in a few minutes, I’m gonna head back to the future - we’re in the middle of an epic fight, you’d love it - and I’ve left my daughter to babysat by you. It won’t be too long… maybe three hours. Actually, make it four. I should take my wife out on a date after and thank her for putting up with me despite how stupid I was at sixteen. Can you manage four hours?”

Adrien gulped. In just one sentence alone, words like ‘wife’, ‘daughter’ and ‘future’ had left his mind in shock. He wasn’t sure which part to start with, when so much information had been thrown his way in a moment’s breath.

“I’m married?!”

Chat grinned proudly. “Happily.”

Adrien’s eyes brightened. “Am I married to Ladybug?”

Chat’s smile grew with delight. “Even better,” he sighed dreamily. “You’re married to the girl you have a crush on.”

“That’s Ladybug!” Adrien spluttered excitedly.

Chat sighed, part in amusement and part in resignation. “Even if I spelled it out for you, there really is no hope,” he mumbled. “But anyway. Just make sure Emma stays safe, okay? We’ll be back soon so there shouldn’t be any trouble. Not with Marinette taking care of her anyway.”

Adrien’s eyes widened. “Marinette? You’re giving her to Marinette?” he coughed out the question. “But she’s my daughter!”

Chat bit the inside of his cheek to fight a smile. “Well, that’s all the message I wanna give. Marinette’s going to be outside with a beautiful little girl and you just have to babysit for a short while. Whatever Marinette says, listen to her, okay? She knows best.”

Chat turned but Adrien quickly grabbed at the man’s hand. Was that rock he was gripping or really a human’s body under a suit?

“What?”

“Well… that can’t be all. There’s so much I have to know!” Adrien blinked innocently. “Like… does Ladybug end up being my first girlfriend? How long do I wait to propose to her, because honestly, I think I’d propose as soon as I’m eighteen, and am I a good dad? Do I quit modelling? And what the hell do I eat to become as buff as you?”

Chat hid the growing smile on his face. He gave a finger salute to Plagg before turning to open a portal. With one leg through the flashing light, Adrien yelled out in haste, “aren’t you gonna give your younger self any advice?!”

Chat laughed, looking back for only one last second. “How about you just try to figure out who’s the girl you have a crush on first, buddy?”

Maybe Marinette was a natural mother. It would explain why she was already ready to give her life for a girl she’d only known for minutes now.

At sixteen, Marinette was always sure she wanted kids but that dream always used to be a small piece of her bigger dream with Adrien. Her dream of kids and a hamster and a house in the South of France for them to retire together. Now with a glimpse into the future, her own plans didn’t look like they needed to be so small anymore.

Her future self hadn’t mentioned Adrien at all, apart from just casual teasing. What did that mean?

“What do you think, Emma?” Marinette cooed at the girl in her arms. “She didn’t seem to care much about Adrien but she was looking at Chat like he was her whole world… does that mean my future self isn’t in love with Adrien anymore?”

“Maman,” Emma said in response with a smile. Marinette’s heart softened.

She chewed on her lip in thought. She was holding a child she would eventually have with a man she’d call her husband… and unlike her sixteen year old self’s aspirations, her twenty six year old self hadn’t mentioned anything of Adrien being that man.

Was Marinette missing something? Was Adrien really not the boy for her?

But… her heart belonged to him, she was sure of it. There was no wedding, no kids, no house she could picture that didn’t have him in some way.

Marinette remembered how Ladybug’s touch lingered on Chat’s body, almost too fondly and affectionately to be considered the same as the relationship present-day Ladybug and Chat had. Like an ice-cold realization being dumped over her, Marinette froze.

“Oh my God Emma,” she said breathlessly. “I end up with Chat Noir.”

Emma giggled, mumbling something that Marinette chose to interpret as affirmation. Unable to stay stoic from Emma’s adorable smile, Marinette burst out in laughter.

“Oh my God,” she repeated. “That sneaky kitty… he must’ve done something. Did you see how future Maman was looking at him, Emma? She was saying his teasing was annoying but then she was touching him every chance she got… am I going to be like that? Me and… my Chat Noir? Is he going to be my…”

Marinette couldn’t bring herself to say the word. Fate truly had a twisted turn if she eventually gave into Chat’s wooing and was just as lovesick for him as he was for her. The thought made her giggle but her heart fluttered.

“He’s gonna have a field day with this one, little Emma. If he finds out I met our married versions, he might die of excitement before we get there,” Marinette laughed, brushing Emma’s hair from her face. “I wonder what it is about Chat that makes me finally fall in love.”

Marinette cradled the baby girl close to her, letting herself indulge in the guilty thoughts of love she would usually shut off for her loyalty to Adrien. “You know what the crazy part is, Emma? Little Maman doesn’t even have a problem with any of this. It would’ve been nice if it was Adrien but… I think I get it now. Adrien’s a crush but to really be with someone, I would want it to be my other half.”

Marinette sighed. Were her feelings so fickle? Suddenly, her heart was warm with the thought of a friend she never once considered before. It felt less like two years of feelings for Adrien had dissipated but two years of feelings for Chat Noir had come to the surface after seeing her daughter.

“What do you think, Emma? Is Chat a good papa?” Marinette giggled, joking with her daughter who only nuzzled into Marinette’s chest. She held her tighter, only turning around when she heard her name called.

“Marinette!”

The smile on Adrien’s face was so blinding that Marinette almost had to step back. The boy was definitely not this happy when he’d ran off to the bathroom.

Their eyes met and Marinette flushed from the sheer joy in his smile. He looked down, his gaze landing upon Emma.

“Oh! Adrien- um- this is… well, it’s a bit tough to explain. You see, I kind of just got asked by my… my aunt! My aunt came and dropped off my daughter- her daughter. My niece! She’s a bit busy so I just have to keep an eye out for her for a few hours and… you don’t mind, do you?”

Marinette watched Adrien’s eyes carefully for a flicker of annoyance at the sudden responsibility. She could only find warmth.

Surely, a boy couldn’t be this happy from having to babysit someone else’s kid?

He inched closer, giving a soft smile to Emma. For a second, Marinette forgot how to breathe. The sight of her first love and her first daughter meeting made her forget words.

“What’s her name?”

“Emma,” Marinette answered softly. Emma reached out for Adrien almost instantly, ready to be carried by him even at first glance. The familiarity she held for Adrien almost worried her when she remembered that there was a strong chance that Adrien and her remained friends in the future… Emma was likely recognizing her Uncle Adrien from another time.

“Can I hold her?” he asked hesitantly and Marinette nodded with a smile.

Adrien cradled the girl to his chest with a gentleness Marinette didn’t expect. It was hard enough seeing Adrien so out of reach every single day of her life but seeing him hold her daughter almost like… like she was his…

Marinette gulped painfully.

The future was beautiful and kind, but there wouldn’t be this. There wouldn’t be a beautiful, young man who got to be Marinette’s first love yet also hold the title of her daughter’s father. Still, she smiled. She had ten years to come to terms with it.

“Hello Emma,” Adrien laughed, a soft finger touching her cheeks. “You probably don’t know me yet but… I’m going to do everything I can to take care of you for as long as I can,” he grinned, almost too fatherly for Marinette’s comfort.

“Papa,” Emma said with a giggle.

Marinette’s heart squeezed. She didn’t blame little Emma for her confusion - Adrien did share the same hair and eyes as Chat that it might’ve thrown off the little girl. But she didn’t correct her daughter. She had a lifetime of parenting to do with her partner, so she’d let herself have today to pretend that it could’ve been her first love.

As she walked away in the museum, Adrien trailed behind with Emma in his arms. He said something to the little girl that Marinette didn’t quite catch fully. It sounded an awful lot like, “yes, Emma. It’s your papa,” but Marinette laughed. Her wishful thinking deluded her too much for her own good sometimes.

At sixteen, Adrien knew he was nowhere ready to be a father. He could hardly understand what it meant to be a good son, to be enough to earn the affections of his own father, to be able to start thinking about how to be a good father.

And yet… was it supposed to be this easy?

Adrien was scared his daughter would repulse at the first sight of him but she came willingly into his arms. She rested with ease, her eyes widened at everything around her - eyes he noticed looked an awful lot like his mother’s - and she laughed at the lame jokes he whispered in her ear, despite not understanding a word.

The apprehension Adrien felt in his chest was gone. This was slowly becoming the best day he’d had in a while.

Just as Emma kept calling him Papa, she called out for Marinette as Maman. At first, Marinette’s face paled when she saw Adrien hear it.

“Oh… uh, my niece, she… well, I look a lot like my aunt, haha! So, you know… she gets us mixed up. That’s probably why she calls you Papa too. You look an awful lot like her father. He’s got the… the same blond hair. And eyes. Even the smile at times,” Marinette blinked, her words trailing off.

Adrien only smiled. His eyes flickered between his daughter and Marinette. Her hair was exactly like Ladybug’s, smooth and dark like the night but it was also just like Marinette’s. He could tell what spurred his daughter’s confusion.

Yet, he still wondered… Why was Marinette the one who his future self had entrusted Emma to? Was it a decision that future Ladybug - his wife! - and his future self made together? Adrien chewed on his lip, unable to answer the question.

What had Chat Noir said before bolting for the future? Marinette knows best?

Adrien glanced at Marinette, the softness in her eyes when she looked at Emma and thought Adrien wasn’t looking. With the gentleness with which she cared for Emma in just a few moments, Adrien couldn’t deny that he had no problem trusting his daughter to her either. Marinette was always kind and there wasn’t a person in the world he thought higher of.

Except for Ladybug. But it really couldn’t get better than that.

“So what should we do now?” Adrien asked. “We checked out my wax statue so that’s done.”

“Well… I guess I should take Emma home. My aunt will be back after a few hours and I’m sure you have things to do so-”

When Marinette came to take Emma from Adrien’s arms, he backed away protectively. She blinked, frowning at his behavior.

“Adrien?”

“Uh… Sorry. I’m a little attached to her,” he forced a laugh. Glancing back at his daughter, he smiled. Chat Noir had said that she’d be his for four hours so why would Adrien have to give her up now?

His lips tightened. As trustworthy as Marinette was, was it fair to give babysitting privileges to her rather than Emma’s father? Did future Ladybug trust an old friend more than she trusted her own young husband?

At that second, Emma burst into sudden tears. Adrien blinked, taken aback by the shrieking sound but before he could do anything, Marinette swooped in and took Emma in her arms. She wrapped her arms around the girl softly, moving her as gently as the wind and whispering quiet words in her ears.

How was Marinette so… natural at this?

He could see just why Marinette was the right choice to babysit, with her soft heart and tender touch and yet… the thought still stung. Ladybug was his wife in the future but she thought more of a friend than she did of him, despite all his love?

How was the future Chat Noir so content with this? Adrien frowned, revisiting every word Chat had said in their short conversation to scrutinize it. His future self hadn’t had any problem with Marinette either - he’d told Adrien to willingly let Marinette handle it all.

When he spoke of his wife, he wore a smile that made Adrien think the future was perfect but surely, this was not the perfect he settled for. His future self had said he was happily married but in what world did a father have less right to his child than a friend of his wife’s?

A bitter taste crawled up Adrien’s mouth. He looked at his daughter to find some peace but when he did, all he could see was Marinette grinning and spinning the girl around. Emma now smiled, looking at Marinette with so much love in her eyes that Adrien wasn’t sure what to think next.

His wife… Chat had never said it was Ladybug. Perhaps Ladybug had dropped off his daughter in the past but Chat had never said it was his daughter with Ladybug. All he’d said was that he was happily married, to a girl even better than Ladybug, and to follow Marinette.

Adrien swallowed. Marinette brushed Emma against her cheek and laughed with a sound worth the brightness of a thousand suns. There was no girl on Earth who held that much love in her heart for a stranger’s baby. Not even Marinette, for all her goodness, could conjure up so much affection for a child she didn’t know.

A stirring feeling shook Adrien’s heart. Pretty Marinette, kind Marinette, Marinette with the shyness of a school-girl but the heart of an everyday superhero, Marinette with the passion of a youthful girl but the love of a woman who’d lived a long life… Marinette, the girl he’d buried his feelings for, for the fear he’d never be good enough to earn her affections back.

That Marinette… She was his future wife.

The smile that spread on Adrien’s face made him look like a fool, but he knew now that he was the same lovesick fool as the future Chat. This right here, in the comfort of the space between Marinette and him, and the daughter they’d one day have, was his family. He would find a family in this girl.

He had already found a family in her. Future Chat knew well enough, telling him to open his eyes and figure out the girl he had a crush on. Of course, Ladybug was his first love, built on admiration and respect, but Marinette was his future. She was the girl he’d become worthy of and the girl who’d give him a home after all his searching.

He blinked back the stinging feeling of tears. When he walked closer to Marinette and Emma, he smiled and rested his hand on Marinette’s shoulder.

“Hey Marinette,” he whispered gently, so not to distract her from their daughter. “Is it okay if I babysit Emma with you today?”

“Hm?” Marinette raised her eyebrows. Adrien fought the urge to brush down her forehead to smooth the crease. She smiled with a welcoming glance. “Of course you can Adrien.”

He grinned. “I guess we can go get ice cream. What do you think about that, little Emma?”

The girl only clapped, excited to see her two mini-parents together again. When she called Marinette Maman again, Adrien couldn’t hide his smile.

Whatever it was Adrien was doing to both her heart, and Emma’s, Marinette wished he would stop.

It was hard enough in the simple moments of Adrien carrying Emma and Emma calling him Papa, but now Adrien was doing even more to seemingly fit in the gaps of her life that belonged to Chat Noir.

For one, his smiles were becoming far too frequent and brightening for her. She started the day off at the museum by counting every time he laughed and grinned at her but now, it was an endless supply that she lost track of.

Not to mention… the hand holding.

Was Marinette truly counting the times their hands had brushed this morning? Because now, Adrien left no steps unturned to hold her hand in the streets of Paris. The three of them went around the city, stopping at little monuments and pretty spring sceneries, all together. It was too much like a family for Marinette to handle.

This was her future family and Adrien was creeping in. He was taking selfies of the three of them at every turn, spending money at random stalls for jewelry and snacks for Emma and he was even… blushing around Marinette?

“Here,” Adrien coughed, looking up at the distracting view of an empty sky. His hand was holding out a small box. “It’s for you.”

Marinette frowned, taking the box. Adrien was no stranger to giving gifts but Marinette was a stranger to the blushing, nervous delivery with which he handed her this gift. Inside was a small necklace with a flower charm on it.

“I just got it from the stall so it’s nothing spectacular, I know,” he laughed awkwardly. “But just to remember today. And I promise, I’ll get you a lot more great things in the future.”

“Oh Adrien, it’s lovely. You didn’t have to get me anything at all,” she blinked. For the sake of her racing heart, she chose to ignore the promise he attached at the end.

Adrien only gave a smile. When the three of them sat down at the bench near Andre’s ice cream stall, Marinette could only cry for relief from the relaxation.

“Wow. Carrying a baby across the city is more of a workout than I thought it’d be,” Marinette sighed. “Kids are a lot of work.”

Adrien nodded, taking Emma from Marinette’s arms. “Well, you don’t need to worry Marinette,” he smiled. “I think you’re a natural mother.”

Marinette’s breath hitched in her throat. The weight of Adrien’s words hung in the air and if she inhaled, she knew she would feel the effect of them crashing against her lungs.

Was today supposed to feel like a goodbye? Was it the reason that Emma appeared today, of all days? To guide her to Chat Noir… and to give her words from Adrien that she would carry forever?

Adrien thought she was a natural mother. It meant one thing to hear it from the man you’d marry but another thing to hear it from your first love. Marinette couldn’t help her heart from singing, from the thought that Adrien saw her so highly.

“Marinette?”

“Huh?” Marinette blinked.

Adrien laughed, brushing his hair from his face. “Oh, I was just saying… aren’t you glad there’s a long time till we have kids?” he rubbed the nape of his neck.

“Absolutely. I’m going to spend a good long while enjoying being sixteen,” Marinette smiled, biting the inside of her cheek. “But then… I think I’m also excited. To work towards getting married.”

Adrien blinked, suddenly flustered. “Do you… do you already have someone in mind?”

Marinette laughed. She was glad Chat could never hear the words she was about to confess to Adrien. Although maybe one day, when the two of them were married and in-between battles, she might confess that she realized she was in love with him on the first date with the guy she’d rejected him all this time for.

“Yup,” Marinette said with a smile, thinking of the kitty’s wide eyes and dramatic flair for romance. “I’m going to marry my best friend.”

Adrien coughed and Marinette noticed the tips of his ears turning red. “Wow… that’s… that’s really sweet, Marinette,” he said, fighting a smile off his lips.

“I know. We’ve gone through so much together that I think that the rest of our lives together will be a fun ride,” Marinette laughed. Before Adrien could reply, Emma suddenly began wailing, mumbling for an ice cream.

“Oh, I’ll take her,” Adrien said with a charming smile. “You should rest after carrying her all day.”

“No, Adrien, it’s fine-”

“We’re babysitting together. Let me handle it,” he said, pushing her gently down. Marinette didn’t protest any further, watching Adrien carry Emma down the bridge to Andre’s.

She was sure he’d make a great father one day. While it was a shame it couldn’t be to her kids, Marinette still smiled at the thought that somewhere in the future, Adrien would be there with her.

Adrien pinched his nose.

How the hell did future Chat battle villains with a daughter? Did he leave her alone with Marinette and run off? Did Marinette know about her husband’s crime-fighting identity? Adrien had a million thoughts running through his mind as he stared up at the blob of a monster, terrorizing the city.

He was certain there wasn’t much that could be done. If he were a little smarter, like his future self, he’d pass off the responsibility of his daughter to someone he could trust. Unfortunately, that wasn’t an option today.

Adrien searched the racing crowds desperately for Marinette, looking for any sign of her. For the first time, fear struck him cold at the thought of her safety. She wasn’t far from where the monster had appeared from… would she be okay?

Adrien shook the thought. She was strong. He was sure she’d be fine, wherever she was but… if only she were in sight. He hadn’t quite crossed the bridge with his wife-to-be about his secret identity but now he desperately needed Emma’s mother to handle her while he transformed.

“Papa,” Emma said, blinking.

“I know, Emma. I don’t know where Maman is… do you think Marinette would eat me alive if she saw Chat Noir fighting an akuma while holding her baby daughter?”

“Adrien, you’re worrying about the wrong Marinette. Do you really want to be on the end of future-you’s punch if anything happened to his daughter?” Plagg piped up.

“Hey! She’s my daughter too.”

“She’s his daughter. You’ve been too oblivious and stupid to deserve such a cute kid,” Plagg grumbled, flying around Emma with a kind of affection that Adrien had never seen from his kwami before. “Wow, she really looks like you.”

“And Marinette. She looks like Marinette too.”

“A little less oblivious now, are we?”

“Plagg, please. Back to the problem. What do we do?”

Plagg sighed. “Well… what else is there to do? Ladybug’s already out there fighting the akuma, Marinette’s nowhere in sight and you’ve got a daughter you can’t leave in the middle of a Paris alley. I’ll let your suit wrap her around your chest… just don’t bring me in the wrath of future Ladybug and future Chat Noir when they ask why Emma is covered in akuma goo.”

Adrien buried his hands in his hair. There was no wonder his future self was far more blindly trusting of Marinette. Marinette would be taking care of their daughter, far from akumas and danger and Adrien… Adrien was here, taking her into battle with them.

“Well?”

“I don’t want to hurt Marinette. I love Emma but…” Adrien cast a glance to the akumatized victim. “I can’t let my lady down. I’m sure they’ll understand.”

“For the record, I had nothing to say or do with this decision, I am a mere bystander-”

“Plagg, claws out!”

Trust Chat Noir to make the day Marinette was ready to give her heart to him as Ladybug the only day he arrived at an akuma fight ten minutes late.

“Took you long enough!” Marinette yelled as she bounced back on the ground from the akumatized victim’s shot of what seemed like jelly goo. “The akuma’s in his stick by the way!”

Chat nervously laughed, giving a hand to Marinette on the ground. “Um… my lady, I know we always fight as a duo but would you be opposed to an adorable sidekick today?”

“What are you talking ab- OH MY GOD! Chat, what the hell is she doing with you?!”

“Well, you see, there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation for everything-”

“Why is she with you?!” Marinette bellowed, trying to take her poor daughter from the strapped blankets around Chat’s chest. The grip of the straps was far too tight though. Marinette could almost cry. When she’d said she wanted to see her Chat look more like the Chat from the future, she’d meant his height or big build… not in the way they both appeared with her daughter strapped to their chest in danger.

“Look, my lady, listen, I couldn’t leave her in the streets! She has a better chance of being protected like this than if I’d leave her on a bench somewhere!”

“Why couldn’t you leave her with Adrien?!”

“Papa?”

“Not now, Emma!”

Chat blinked. “How do you know her name?” he said slowly. “And how do you know she was with Adrien? Oh my God, did future Chat Noir pay a visit to you too?!”

Marinette buried her face into her palms. Was he really the partner she was supposed to raise Emma with? She was glad that there were years to go before the two of them would reach that burden because right now, she was almost guiltily wishing fate had been kinder to her and put her in Adrien’s path instead.

“Chat, now is not the time! Please! We need to break the akuma and figure out how to keep Emma safe. Please just… just be safe with her, okay?”

Chat nodded, blinking. “Of course I will. She is my daughter after all,” he said with a smile down at Emma. His black-leather clad gloves gently caressed the girl’s cheek, careful of his sharp claws.

Marinette stilled. So wrapped up in the chaos, she forgot she was witnessing the sight of her daughter with the man she’d one day call her husband.

In her mind, Chat Noir had always been a little bit of a child himself, chasing after love and thrill like a lost boy. There were countless times she doubted his sincerity in his fluttering feelings for her.

And yet… Now, when she looked at him, none of that doubt was there. All she saw was a boy with radiating love in his eyes, a gentle heart, one that had been begging for her to be careful with him all this time because his affection was never insincere. It was just that he had so much to give.

Marinette blinked back the pooling tears in her eyes. He looked at Emma with so much love and when his eyes came to her, his gaze only softened.

“Are you crying?” he asked, puzzled.

Marinette quickly wiped the tears away under her mask. Now was not the time. “You… you’re gonna be a great father one day, kitty,” she settled for saying, running away towards the akuma without a glance back. Though he was out of earshot, Marinette still let herself say to the world, “I’m so glad you’re going to be the one for my kids.”

Adrien was fighting an akuma, with his future daughter wrapped to his chest, and his future wife somewhere out there in Paris. And first love had just told him that he was going to be a great father out of the blue.

Were all of the world’s gifts being given to him today?

“Chat, the light pole! If you cataclysm it, we can trap him!”

Adrien blinked, looking up. “Um… my lady, I would never be opposed to anything you suggest except- I don’t wanna give Emma vertigo by climbing all the way up there!”

Ladybug sighed. “Well, it’s not ideal to bring a daughter along in an akuma fight. For now, I’ll hold onto her while you go!” she said before mumbling, “we better find a way around this when the time comes. I might kill you if you bring Emma along into a fight in the future.”

In a quick swap, Adrien was now watching Ladybug cradle his daughter to her chest. His first love and his future daughter. He hated how his heart fluttered.

Before today, it was her he wanted to be a husband for. He dreamed of holding their children, of living together and growing old by each other’s side… Adrien hoped that the part of him that clung to that fantasy would go away soon.

He feigned a laugh. “Of course I won’t. I’ll leave her at home with my wife.”

Ladybug stilled, and amongst the chaos of Paris behind her, he could see her body freeze. Suddenly, she was glaring at him. “Like hell you will!” she pompously snapped. “You should be the one staying home taking care of her!”

Adrien blinked. “Then who will save Paris?!”

Adrien didn’t know what he was doing that only seemed to flame Ladybug’s temper. “I’m the one who purifies akumas anyway! You should be the one taking care of the kid!”

“I- I don’t understand!” Adrien threw his hands up in the air. The sudden argument between him and Ladybug made him feel like they were having a lover’s spat, but he tried not to dwell on that thought. “Why couldn’t my wife just take care of Emma while I’m out here?”

“Chat, if this is how you plan to be in the future, I swear I will make sure there is no Emma!” Ladybug argued. “I am not staying home to babysit Emma while you get to fight!”

“No one said anything about you having to babysit! You can fight!”

“You said you’ll leave Emma alone at home with your wife!”

“Yes! My wife!”

Ladybug blinked in confusion. “Well, your wife doesn’t want to stay home to babysit!”

Adrien buried his face in his hands. The city would burn to the ground at this rate, while he would still be stuck in a conversation he did not understand. He watched Emma’s eyes go from Ladybug to his as if she were lost on who to listen to.

“I don’t see why Marinette would have any problems taking care of Emma,” Adrien sighed exasperatedly. His body instantly froze after saying the words.

He’d just told the name of his future wife to a partner who had no idea about his identity… Adrien’s throat dried up. Had he just fucked up everything?

He swallowed, risking a glance at Ladybug. She mirrored his expression of shock and he mentally braced himself for the scolding of his life from her.

“You… you- did future Chat go and tell you my name?!” she groaned, shaking with a frightening temper. “I thought that was off limits! Future Ladybug didn’t even tell me anything about you! I had to figure it out all on my own that we were going to get married!”

Adrien stilled. Whatever confusion he was facing before, it only seemed to get worse now.

“M- married?” he sputtered out, suddenly coughing. His head echoed the chaos ensuing in the city around him. The logical part of his brain told him to get back to work, save Paris… every other part of him told him that he was stepping on unchartered territory right now with Ladybug and he shouldn’t dare move.

“This is a mess. Emma, did we mess everything up?” Ladybug mumbled, looking down at his daughter.

“Ladybug… wait, I think- I think there’s been a misunderstanding,” Adrien cut in, awkwardly rubbing the nape of his neck. “I’m… I’m going to marry Marinette.”

Ladybug blinked at him as if waiting for him to say something more. For a moment, only silence passed between the two. They both seemed to be waiting for the other to finish their unfinished words.

It was in this silence that Emma’s voice became the loudest. She looked up at Ladybug, laughing and reaching for her dark hair to grab. “Maman.”

Adrien glanced between his daughter’s familiar gaze at his first love and his first love’s hair that looked an awful lot like his future wife’s. Despite the tense atmosphere, Ladybug still smiled softly at his daughter as she continued to call out for Maman.

Adrien burst out laughing. Maybe he’d be a great father one day. But he sure as hell wouldn’t stop being an idiot.

Chat would make a very strange husband, Marinette decided. One second, he was yelling at her that she would have to stay home to take care of Emma and the next, after a very visible mental breakdown of laughter, he was back on his game.

Once the two of them had gotten past the weird argument, it took only a few minutes for Paris to return to normal and a little butterfly to fly away, harmless and pure. All in a day’s work… with a baby wrapped around her chest.

“Sorry little Emma,” Marinette sighed, rubbing her suit-covered fingers over her daughter’s cheek. “Maman took you into a fight. You must’ve been so scared.”

Emma only giggled.

“Well, you don’t really need to be scared. We’re just kids right now, but I promise once you come, Maman will be an even better superhero. And Papa too… if he ever sorts his head out. We’ll be good parents,” Marinette blushed before adding, “we’ll be a good husband and wife too, don’t you think?”

Marinette couldn't get sick of the bright, green eyes of her daughter. They really were beautiful.

Behind her, she heard Chat Noir’s feet land on the ground. He mumbled pleasant greetings to the Parisians walking by before coming to her.

“So,” he began. A new kind of smile Marinette had never seen before was playing on his lips. “Crime-fighting husband and wife?”

Marinette rolled her eyes. There it was. The smugness she knew she’d have to handle from the second she realized that the man she ended up with was Chat Noir. “This just sounds like a recipe for disaster.”

His glee was painted across his face. He couldn’t stop grinning. “On the contrary, I think it’ll be quite the dream. You, me, our kwamis and our little kids. Aren’t you glad future-you finally decides to fall for me and have that life?”

“I don’t know. Doesn’t sound like much is in it for me.”

Chat fought a cocky grin. “Well, you get a piece of twenty-six-year-old Chat Noir and I think you’d quite like him, my lady.”

Marinette had to hide her flushing cheeks by looking down at Emma. “I’m stuck with sixteen-year-old you right now. Let’s start one step at a time, okay?” Marinette mumbled. “We have a long way to go before we become good parents.”

Chat laughed. “Me maybe. But you’re a natural mother, bugaboo. You’ll be great.”

Marinette giggled. What was that her future self had said? That she’d be a good mother, but her husband was half the reason why. She wouldn’t tell Chat that now, but she was starting to think it might be true. He’d done something risky today but he had her back as always.

In unison, both of their Miraculouses beeped, reminding them of their time limits.

“Oh! Gotta go,” Chat glanced at his ring before looking up at Emma. “Will you be able to handle her?”

Marinette smiled. “Papa’s done enough,” she teased, poking him away. “I’ll be fine.”

Chat laughed, pressing a kiss onto Emma’s forehead. “See you when I see you, little bug,” he whispered to the happy baby before looking at Marinette with a mischievous smile. Marinette almost jumped from the sneaky kiss he pressed onto her forehead too.

She still felt his lips on her skin, long after he’d leaped across rooftops away. Cradling Emma carefully against her, she sneaked into an alley quickly to de-transform.

“You did great Marinette! You took down the akuma and took perfect care of Emma,” Tikki smiled. “Chat Noir’s right! You really are a natural mother.”

Marinette laughed. “Thanks, Tikki. Adrien said that too- oh my god! Adrien!”

Tikki hid a knowing smile before going back inside her purse. Marinette instantly took off, running back to the bridge where she’d last seen Adrien leave with Emma. The poor boy… he probably was frightened to death, thinking he lost Emma and Marinette in the crowd.

Standing in the middle of the bridge, Marinette panted. “Oh Emma,” she chewed her lip. “You don’t think he’ll be too panicked, will he? Adrien?”

“Papa?” Emma only asked in response, blinking widely.

Marinette laughed. “Not Papa silly. You just saw Papa. Do you already miss him?”

Emma pouted, nuzzling her face into Marinette’s neck. “Papa.”

Marinette sighed. “Is this how it is in the future? Do you like Papa more than me?” she grumbled playfully. She didn’t think she’d even mind if little Emma gave all her devotion to Chat.

The two laughed together till Marinette heard her name called. As she turned, she hated the way her heart skipped at the sight. Adrien came rushing down the bridge, two ice creams clutched in his hands and a wide smile on his face. It was a scene she thought she’d recall in every dream from now on.

Ten years Marinette… you have ten years to get over that.

“Sorry! I went to get ice cream, then the akuma happened, then Emma-”

“It’s fine, Adrien!” Marinette forced a laugh. “You’ve been a great help today with Emma anyway!”

Adrien’s smile slipped into something softer. She almost wished she didn’t have to see it.

“Papa!”

“Hey Emma,” Adrien laughed, giving the ice creams to Marinette before taking Emma into her own hands. “You weren’t scared, were you?”

Emma shook her head happily. She nuzzled affectionately into his touch, still calling him Papa.

“Sorry about her,” Marinette smiled, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “Looks like she likes her Papa more and you remind her of him.”

Adrien nodded, biting back a smile. “Well, that’s okay. I think her Maman already has someone who loves her far too much. It isn’t fair for her to get all of Emma’s love too.”

“Hm?”

Marinette blinked. That smile on Adrien… Why did it look both new and familiar at once? And why was he leaning in with a glint of amusement in his eyes, as if this were something ordinary between the two of them? And why, despite every better part of herself, was Marinette’s heart racing from being the focus of those eyes?

“Wouldn’t you agree, future wife?”

The ice creams dropped. Two cones sat planted in the ground and Marinette squeaked. The smugness she’d seen minutes ago on Chat’s face now appeared on… on Adrien’s. He laughed, sharing the joke with Emma in his playful stare. Her first love, the love of her life, and her future daughter… all in one sight.

“Adrien!”

“Uh oh Emma, your Maman is mad at me,” the boy laughed. Marinette chased him down the bridge but when she caught him, it was Adrien who pressed his lips to her forehead this time.

“You took… our daughter into an akuma fight?!”

“Hey! She’s our daughter too. And don’t tell off Marinette,” Adrien pouted, jumping in front of Marinette from the towering Ladybug who had her hands on her hips. Hips he was having a hard time looking away from.

Adrien couldn’t tell Marinette - he wouldn’t dare - but while ten years would make him as Chat Noir just a bit more handsome, ten years would make her deadly.

He had to gulp a heavy breath when she appeared in Marinette’s bedroom, with her own Chat Noir on her tail. At first glance, he almost tripped from Marinette’s sofa. When he shared a look with his future self, his future self only feigned an innocent smile, fully aware of the inner workings of sixteen-year-old Adrien’s mind and how the stunning woman had short-wired it.

“I am allowed to tell myself off, Adrien,” Ladybug sighed. “Move away.”

“No way. It wasn’t her fault anyway!”

Ladybug shared a look with Chat. “Were you always this stubborn?”

Chat grinned. “Only when it comes to you,” he said with a wink and then with a glance at sixteen-year-old Marinette, “and her too, I guess.”

Adrien frowned. “Hey! Flirt with your own Marinette,” he grumbled, shooting daggers at his future self. For as hard as Adrien had worked to disguise his starstruck reaction to the future Ladybug, Marinette had put no effort into the same for the future Chat Noir. Her eyes were glued to him this whole time. Every time he moved or turned and the muscles strained against the suit, Marinette turned a little bit redder.

Adrien wasn’t sure whether to be jealous or flattered.

“Like I can’t see you ogling me,” Ladybug muttered before looking at Marinette. “Anyway. I’ll take Emma back now. While it wasn’t… ideal for you two to fight with her on hand, I know why you did it. Thank you for taking care of her.”

Marinette beamed. “Thank you for letting me have her today. I… I’m gonna work really hard,” she promised, her eyes bright and glittering. “To become a mother and superhero as good as you.”

Ladybug smiled, but before she could respond, the two boys answered in unison, “You’re already good.”

Marinette blinked, looking between Adrien and Chat. “Wow. This is trippy.”

“Tell me about it,” Ladybug sighed, before glancing at Adrien. “Thanks for taking care of her- well, me, Adrien. There’s gonna be a lot of tough times in the future but there’ll be a lot of good too.”

With a look at Marinette, the words came out of Adrien before he could stop them. “I think they’ll all be good.”

Chat sighed, picking up Emma. “I would make fun of you. But I’m exactly the same. Guess we’re even,” he grinned, offering a fist. When Adrien reciprocated, his fingers stung from the sheer force of a simple fist bump.

“Seriously man, what are you eating?”

“Nothing healthy. My wife’s family owns a bakery after all,” Chat said with a wink at Marinette. He turned to open a portal and Adrien squinted from the flash of light.

“Thanks for babysitting kiddos!” Ladybug smiled with a wave. Adrien could hardly wave back before the two of them were gone and the room was left with him and Marinette and their two sleeping kwamis.

And a hundred or so posters of Adrien.

“I really thought you’d be more into me,” Adrien mumbled in the empty room. “But you couldn’t stop gawking at Chat Noir!”

Marinette scoffed. “You weren’t slick about your staring at Ladybug either.”

Adrien rubbed the nape of his neck. “I was just… looking at how your suit would change. Very interesting, you know.”

“Really?”

“Oh yeah. You have less spots in the future. It’s fascinating, right?”

“I guess. Your tail was longer too.”

“Is that so?”

“Yep.”

Adrien bit back a smile. “Well thank you for admitting you were checking out my future ass, Marinette.”

Instantly, he dodged the pillow thrown his way by her that he’d anticipated. Her face was flushed and he couldn’t get enough of how adorable it was. He’d have to soak it all up before she became all cool and confident like she was in the future.

With all the laughing and pillows being thrown around, Adrien didn’t hesitate in grabbing Marinette’s waist and pulling her closer to him. The two were wrapped together now on the couch and while the proximity was familiar, the racing heartbeat he felt at being so close to her was new.

“You really have Emma’s eyes,” she muttered, staring at him.

“You have Emma’s hair.”

“You have Emma’s nose,” she answered with a playful flick of it.

Adrien smiled, letting his eyes wander down her face. “You have her…” he trailed off, bashful of even saying the word.

Someday, he’d have a kid with this girl. But for now, he couldn’t even bring himself to get past the initial awkward shyness of two sixteen-year-olds around their first loves.

“What do you think?” Marinette asked hesitantly. “Of our… Our future together?”

Adrien grinned. “I love it.”

“Do you really think I’ll be a good mother one day?” she asked, suddenly leaning in closer. Adrien was sure she could hear the hitch in his heartbeat, pressed against him like this.

His partner, his best friend, his first love, the love of his life… how did he get so lucky? All in a day, he’d found all these people with just a little bit of the future.

Adrien brought his lips to Marinette’s cheek and pressed a kiss at the corner of her lips. “I think you’ll make a great mother,” he kissed the other corner. He leaned back for a second to share a smile before pulling her close enough that no distance remained. “But I think you’ll make an even better wife.”

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threecrowsinatrenchcoat · 3 years

Text

Paint My Spirit Gold

Dukeceit Week Day 2: Green/Yellow

Fans of the YouTubers "Deceit" and Remus "The Duke" Sanders start to suspect that maybe, just maybe, the two of them are more than simple internet pals.

AO3 Link: [here]

Word Count: 2187

Warnings: n/a

@dukeceitweek <3

[ID: A screenshot of a Twitter post by user @CallMeDukie. It features a watercolor-style painting of a snake. The snake appears to be made of melting chocolate, and there is a large bite taken out of its tail. Cherries and jam are leaking out of the snake at the bite wound. The snake's expression of horror is overly-exaggerated to the point of comedy. The caption reads: "liked your snake boi, @SerpenThyme. thanks for the inspo." /end ID]

A notification ding cut Janus off mid-sentence.

“Wow, someone left their cell phone on, so professional,” he said, giving the camera a dramatic eye roll. That someone was him, of course, because he was the only one in the apartment- just him and the running livestream- but that was no excuse not to be a drama queen about it. He finished wiping flour off his hands and grabbed his phone to silence it; but the notification made him pause. He flicked his eyes up toward the camera and gave a slight smirk.

“My goodness, I’m famous,” he drawled. “The Duke himself has graced little old me with some fan art.”

Most of the comments in the chat wanted him to show it, so Janus opened up Twitter to see the full post he’d been tagged in. It was a watercolor painting of the coiled-snake chocolate sculpture- lovingly named Jake by his viewers- he’d made for his YouTube video last week; it was wearing an expression of such comedic horror that Janus had to stifle a laugh. He flicked his phone screen toward the close-up camera on his counter so his viewers could see.

“How kind of you, Remus,” he said. “All of you should go scold him for what he’s done to poor Jake here.”

Most of his viewers would know he was joking- after all, they were the ones to nickname him Deceit when he provided neither a real or fake name for his online persona. They knew full well what he was like by now.

The oven timer dinged. Janus silenced his phone and set it aside.

“And our first batch of cookies is done. You know, why don’t we show the Duke some appreciation?”

[ID: An Instagram post by user @SerpenThyme. The photo is an artistically-framed shot of a stack of sugar cookies with green, yellow, and pink icing. Propped up against the stack is another cookie, with an intricate icing-drawing of an octopus. The photo appears to have been color corrected to have high contrast, low saturation, and a dark vignette at the edges. The Instagram user @OctoDukie is tagged. No caption. /end ID]

“You know, I have often been accused of actually being a little old lady, what with my fondness for knitted jumpers, rocking chairs, and incredibly fucked up murder mystery books. Today I am doing nothing to dispel this accusation, by making soup.”

The studio was dark and empty aside from Remus' workspace. Everyone else had left long ago, even his own brother, which meant that it was officially ass-o'clock in the morning (or, as most people called it, somewhere between 1 and 2 a.m.) But Remus was stuck in hyperfocus, honed in on putting the last touches on a commission that he'd been putting off for weeks. It's not that it was a tough painting- once he'd gotten started, it was actually a very creatively satisfying piece- but man, executive dysfunction could go suck a dick

“French onion soup, specifically. Because while I do like to pretend I am a classy bitch, I am also, regrettably, a lazy bitch with a distaste for anything that takes longer than one bottle of wine to make.”

Remus hated working in silence. It was stifling, almost suffocating. His brain needed noise like his lungs needed air. So when the studio had grown still and silent, Remus had flipped open his laptop and queued up some YouTube videos.

“So we have here three pounds of onions that we need to slice up, pole to pole. You’re going to cry no matter what, so if you have any memories you’ve been repressing since middle school, now is an excellent time to dredge those up.”

And if it happened to be 90% SerpenThyme videos, well. Sue him.

“Now the first rule of caramelizing onions: fast and sloppy is always better than slow and thorough… at least, that’s what every man I’ve ever slept with tells me.”

Remus choked and glanced over to his laptop screen just in time to catch Deceit's trademark smirk directed at the audience just for a moment. It was the deadpan delivery that always got him. Remus could barely hold onto a joke long enough to get through it without cackling mid-punchline, but this fucker could say the funniest shit like an off-hand comment.

He wiped his hands off on his jeans (what use were clothes if you couldn't use them as paint rags?) and pulled his laptop across the table. He typed out a quick comment, citing the timestamp of the joke, and after it was posted, he shut his laptop.

'Cause ass-o'clock was short for "get-your-ass-home-or-I’ll-kick-it" o'clock.

[ID: A screenshot of a YouTube comments section. The first comment is by user TheDuke, and reads: "10:42 wow, rude." The second comment is a reply by user SerpenThyme, and simply reads ";)" /end ID]

Janus plopped down on the couch with a slight groan. He didn’t need to stream today, but he really hated missing days. Besides… he was fine. Really.

He adjusted the camera until he was happy with the framing, and then checked the settings on his streaming software. Satisfied, he started the stream, and watched as his usual viewers rolled in.

“What do you mean I’m not in my kitchen?” Janus drawled, addressing the chat. He glanced around with an expression of faux-shock on his face. “My goodness, when did that happen?”

He chuckled, and then gestured to his surroundings. “Yes, we are in my living room today. If you must know, my closest and most trusted friend tried to murder me today- yes, Virgil, it was attempted murder and nothing less- and I survived with nary a scratch… and a broken foot, but that is beside the point. Anyway, I’m not allowed to stand for long periods of time, and I may or may not be somewhat inebriated by pain pills and couldn’t stand even if I wanted to. So we are cooking from my couch today.”

Janus paused for a few moments to read the chat messages as they popped up. A few get well soon’s, a few theories about the “attempted murder,” Virgil- who moderated his chat for him- vehemently denying the “attempted murder” but otherwise refusing to clarify the event, and a large volume of wtf why are you streaming today, take care of yourself comments, which made him smile. But one particular comment caught his eye, almost lost amid the torrent of an active chat: wait this kinda looks like the Duke’s living room?

“Oh, VampSuga,” he said, addressing that commenter in particular with a slight smirk. “I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about. Anyway, since I can’t reach my oven from here, I thought some no-bake cookies were in order. For these you will need-”

[ID: A screenshot of a Discord conversation. The text reads:

“VampSuga: Ok ok hear me out. Dukeceit.

Starstruck96: who?

IneffableSnek: lmao

FeralBeauYasha: lol

VampSuga: Deceit and Remus Sanders! They’re totally dating. I will die on this hill.

FeralBeauYasha: Isn’t the duke w/ PatPat?

IneffableSnek: no thats his brothers bf

FeralBeauYasha: ohh

VampSuga: Did anyone see Deceit’s stream today? I swear that’s the Duke’s livingroom.

StarStruck96: idk that seems like a stretch

IneffableSnek: no wait i kno what u mean

IneffableSnek: im watching the duke’s old videos and that one where he shows off all his old weapons he’s in a living room kinda like deceit’s

FeralBeauYasha: They were acting all cute on twitter too

VampSuga: DUKECEIT” /end ID]

"Hey guys, been a while since you've seen my face and not just whatever my hands are busy with, when it's within YouTube's terms and conditions I mean. They used to be way more lenient…" Remus trailed off for a moment, then shook his head sharply and plastered on a grin.

"Anyway! In June me and a few other creators did a fundraiser for the Trevor Project, and y'all smashed the goal, so I let you decide what video I'd make this month." He paused, and gestured to the mountain of clothes piled behind him on the bed. "And you had so many juicy ideas to choose from, but you decided to dress me up like a Barbie instead."

Remus paused to scroll through his phone for a few moments. "Ah, ok, here we go. Twitter user YoonIsMyCat- oh, BTS, nice- sent in this first outfit. Uh… future Remus, put up the post here somewhere." He gestured vaguely to his right. "Y'all went with either a fuckton more clothes or a fuckton less clothes, which I respect. Apparently this outfit is called…” He squinted at his phone. “Amish chic? I take it back, no respect at all.”

Remus cycled through the outfits his viewers sent in, which ranged from the aforementioned “Amish chic” to “2008 rave attire” to “ok now you guys are just fucking with me” (which consisted of one of those big puffy snow coats, lime green in color; booty shorts with the shrug text emoji across the ass; fuzzy pink boots; and a yellow cowboy hat to top off the whole thing. It was awful. Remus loved it.) The mountain of clothes on the bed gradually became a mess of clothes spread across the floor instead, until there was just one outfit left.

“Ok so Twitter user VampSuga sent me this outfit that I’m gonna call ‘sexy librarian.’ I couldn’t find this exact sweater online, but-” he paused for dramatic effect, before brandishing a sweater toward the camera like a bullfighter. “My boyfriend had something that was close enough.”

Remus hopped up from the bed and switched off the camera so he could change.

“They’re going to lose their minds,” a voice drawled from the doorway. Remus threw his shirt at him.

“Shoo, I’m getting naked.”

[ID: A Twitter post by user @CallMeDukie. It features a selfie of YouTuber Remus “The Duke” Sanders, a Hispanic man with his hair dyed green and styled into a spiked mohawk. He is wearing a yellow knitted cardigan over a black button-up shirt. He is grinning widely at the camera. The caption reads: “my viewers pick my outfits! now live on youtube. go see what i look like as a sexy librarian!” /end ID]

DukeceitStan

first and only dukeceit shipper ig

DukeceitStan

wow there’s so many of you now! Hi!!

DukeceitStan

i want this to be canon so bad omg

DukeceitStan

i mean just look

[image]

how

[image]

cute

[image]

[ID: A series of three gifs featuring Youtubers SerpenThyme, aka Deceit, and TheDuke, aka Remus Sanders. Deceit is a black man with long, dreadlocked hair, and vitiligo patches along the left side of his face. Remus is a Hispanic man with green-dyed hair styled into a mohawk, many ear and facial piercings, and tattoos covering both arms. Each gif is edited so that the highlights are tinged yellow when Deceit is seen, and tinged green when Remus is seen.

The first gif depicts a close-up shot of Deceit’s hands as he carefully decorates a cookie with green and yellow icing. The cookie art he is working on appears to be a half-finished octopus. The gif then fades into a mid-shot of Remus, with his back to the camera, facing a canvas. The canvas is blank, and Remus appears to be laying out paints on a table to his left.

The second gif depicts Deceit seated at his couch, facing the camera. He has many ingredients spread across his coffee table (including oats, cocoa powder, and butter) and appears to be in the process of laying out several more. The gif fades to show Remus seated at a similar couch with a similar coffee table in front of him. The camera is angled slightly downward to better show the myriad of knives spread out across the table. Remus is gesturing wildly with a morning star held in his hand.

The third gif depicts Deceit in his kitchen. He is pulling on a bright, yellow knitted cardigan, and smirking toward the camera. The gif fades to show Remus in his bedroom, seated on his bed. He is holding up a similar-looking cardigan toward the camera and grinning. /end ID]

“Remus, it’s almost two in the morning. Come to bed.”

“I’m coming, sorry. Twitter distracted me.”

“Mm. I can’t believe the bird app is more distracting than I am.”

“You should try harder.”

“Come to bed and maybe I will.”

“Ok, ok, I’m coming. Hang on though, is it cool if I post this?”

“Sure. They figured it out anyway.”

“Sweet. Ok, Jannie, I’m coming.”

[ID: A screenshot of a Twitter post by user @CallMeDukie. It reads: “Dukeceit is canon.” /end ID]

#dukeceit #dukeceitweek #remus sanders #janus sanders #sanders sides fic #kye writes

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whump-town · 4 years

Text

A Cumbersome and Heavy Body

Chapter Four: How to Disappear Completely

Summary: Stubborn until the very end, Aaron Hotchner isn’t going to go down without a fight. It’s just getting hard to tell the difference between fighting them and fighting the cancer.

Word count: 2,670 (not very long but I’m getting back into the swing)

Author’s Note: I know it’s been like freaking two months but this felt nice and I remembered how much I actually enjoy this fic. You can find the first chapter here!

Warning: the subject of this fic is cancer and it’s treatment, cursing, maybe out of character (idk, man. hotch is weird) bonus: I’m 19 and a humanities major so obviously I don’t know anything about medicine so I’m doing my best out here

I'm not here I'm not here This isn't happening I'm not here I'm not here

She’s not allowed to go with him to treatments-- radiation treatments, he never said anything about chemo. You’d think she was the ex-lawyer but really she’s just mastered the art of annoying him. “That’s a straight flush, eat it!” She lays the cards out for him to see, grinning as his face falls and he realizes that he’s lost to her, again. “We totally should have played strip-poker.”

He rubs a hand over his face, digging his fingers into his eye socket. “That’s the last thing I need,” he mumbles, leaning back against his chair. He’s exhausted and freezing his ass off despite the long-sleeved t-shirt he’s wearing under his flannel and the blanket Emily’s tucked around him. There’s no point in bringing it up, no point in talking about it. No one can do anything about it. He’s just cold and he can handle the clump of hair that fell in the sink this morning and the fact that all foods, even foods that he’s considered safe for decades, betray his body. This being cold all the time thing though? It’s pissing him off and it makes him feel even more helpless because he can’t control his emotions.

Nevermind, most of his control over everything is gone. He’s stuck in this chair until the toxic whatever they have hanging above his head enters his body. The whole bag and a two-hour, maybe longer, wait. For comfort, he’s got an endless supply of blankets, all as thick as paper, and a popsicle. He likes popsicles but he’s certain he’ll throw up anything he eats right now. So he sticks to lightly sipping his water. At least he gets to control the water most of the time. Occasionally they even get to veto his decisions there.

“I’ll give you a break,” she offers. She can see he’s having a hard time. He knows he’s lucky to have her as his shadow but that doesn’t do much for the temper he’s struggling to control. “I’m going to go call JJ,” she knocks her hand against his knee and he hums his understanding. He’s moved his body up, sitting up enough to tilt to the left, his head in his palm, and his fingers moved to block her view of a pained grimace. Trying and failing to keep her distracted with his silence.

Knowing that crouching down beside him would create far more attention to his discomfort that is such grave importance to him to hide, she just lowers her voice and quietly asks, “do you want me to get some more water?” He shakes his head, just rocking his forehead into his palm. His attention lost to a sea of pain. “Okay,” she mumbles, feeling utterly helpless. A feeling she’s becoming quite familiar with.

The worst part is knowing there’s nothing she can do physically for him but there are some people that never fail to draw a smile to his face. So she texts Spencer and Penelope, hoping Reid will numb Hotch out with never-ending conversation and Garcia will lighten his sludge. She hesitates to ask Jessica to bring Jack over. After the night they watched the Chronicles of Narnia he’s been a little outwardly disruptive. Acting out and it’s to be expected, this isn’t easy for anyone and it’s impossible for a child who has already lost his mother. But it will be good for Hotch and Jack so she risks it and Jessica seems to agree.

“You’re back early.” What she does not account for is Derek Morgan beating them back. They walk in and hear a racket, and though their training should have them reaching for guns not strapped to their hips, they both just glare at the direction in which it’s coming from. Derek stands up, eyeing them both over, and motioning to something out of their sight. “Was just fixing the sink.” He’s covered in dirt and sweat, it’s evident he was fixing something though the state of his shirt looks more like he breaking something.

Emily is opening her mouth to inquire but Hotch beats her to it. His tone and his mood are not in a good place and if she’d known Morgan was here ahead of time she would have warned him. Morgan has no warning when Hotch’s already firmly placed scowl turns even crueler and he grumbles, “the sink wasn’t broken.”

She’s stuck standing between them, Hotch walking away and Morgan watching his back and looking hopelessly at her to explain what just happened. She’s not sure if she’s allowed to follow Hotch or if she’s better here explaining his behavior. It’s just like old times, she thinks bitterly. To Foyet and his pain and she can’t say she’s surprised, he really held out. She can’t blame him for being in a bad mood, he’s in pain. It’s his cancer, he’s allowed to be pissed about it.

“He okay?”

She is surprised to find that Morgan isn’t angry. That he looks nearly sad standing there, torn between going after him and being reassured by her. “He’s…” she won’t tell him about the drive back. Hotch silent but in so much pain he’d been restless, incapable of sitting still in the car. Or this morning how he’d needed her help just putting on a shirt. The hair she’s noticed falling out but he’s not commenting on it so she certainly won’t breathe a word. That they’re up all night, the sound of Hotch’s pacing making her too worried to rest or barreling through the house to find him curled around the toilet looking miserable. That he’s losing weight rapidly and she doesn’t struggle to help him up anymore-- but she tells herself it’s because she’s getting stronger because she has to.

“He’s Hotch,” she reasons, foolishly. “Of course, he’s okay.”

-------------------------------

Garcia would lay her own life down in a heartbeat to protect the team if they’d let her. She owes them all so much for the quality that they have given her life over the past few years. They have built a family around her, from the ground up, and accepted her through all her flaws and misadventures. No one as much as her suit-clad, knight in shining armor boss. Hotch has been there for her since before there was even really a team. When no one else would, he gave her so much more than a chance-- he believed in her. When no one else, when no one had even tried since her parent’s death. Even when time and time again she made mistakes, pushed rules, and on his last nerve. He never tore her down.

He commends her strangeness, even if she suspects he doesn’t fully understand it. Smiles good-naturedly when she brings him holiday-themed ties so they can match and allows her silly days out for conventions beyond his own taste. He’s never grasped a full understanding of her but he’s never given up trying. He commends her abilities to do this job and also reminds her how proud he is of her, to have her on his team, and to call her a friend. So, yeah, if Hotch needs a little pick-me-up, she’s his man.

“Are you two fucking?”

Garcia freezes. The key Hotch gave her half-way in its retreat from the lock and the door only slightly opened. She’s technically coming in unannounced but Hotch had given her this key under the same pretenses as the one that gave her access to his and Haley’s house-- in case she needs him. The situations are flipped now, he needs her, but the sentiment is still the same. She’d prepared for the Hotch’s thousand-word frown upon entrance just not the verbal assault of “are you two fucking”.

She hesitantly makes her way into the room, peeking around the corner of the wall that separates the kitchen from the living room. Emily and Morgan are standing there, both looking equally disgusted and annoyed. She watches Emily fluster, mouth opening and closing like a goldfish. “What?” she barks out in pure surprise. “He’s-- NO!”

Morgan reciprocates his own franticness, waving at Emily’s clothes, “you’re-- you’re... matching!” He’s grabbing at straws for the most part. His own anxieties and fears coming into play to create this monster of a beast he can’t stop thinking about. To distract himself from the panicked thoughts he has about watching his friend die he’s conjured a reality in which it makes sense that Emily and Hotch would be boning. Really, it’s only bothering him because he has no idea what he would do if the two of them were… doing something. It’s just-- just disgusting. Hotch is Hotch, he doesn’t… do that.

Emily rolls her eyes, “Derek, I see him every day. I live with him.” She makes an exasperated throwing motion with her hands, tossing them upwards. “It’s going to happen occasionally, alright? We own similar articles of clothing.” She motions down to her clothes, “we’re ‘matching’ because we look a lot alike and he knows green is his color just like I know it’s mine!”

Of course, that’s what she says now but this morning when she was working the tiny ass buttons of his shirt together she’d given him endless shit about managing to pick out the one shirt the two of them both own. He couldn’t change-- that day’s appointments needed full access to his chest and the easiest way to do that is to wear easily opened and shut clothing. She could change but simply refused-- it was far more entertaining to tell him they looked like those preschoolers whose parents dressed them to match.

He wasn’t amused.

“Besides,” she adds just to a rise out of him, “he’s not supposed to be doing anything strenuous until the rash on his chest clears back up.” She tucks a strand behind her ear, nonchalant. “Even then I would have to be on top.” She smiles as he sputters, satisfied with her own work.

Morgan frowns, “No!” He momentarily covers his ears, shaking his head. “Why do you even-- How do you know that?”

Emily shrugs, “Oh… well, his doctor thought we were… you know.”

Garcia isn’t sure where her allegiance should be. If Hotch and Emily are… she’d prefer not to know the details. Well, she’s interested because it’s Emily but it’s also Hotch. She makes a face, the thought… it-- Hotch needs to lighten up. He needs someone back in his life that can bring some fun but Emily is, well she’s Emily! It f-

“Is she done tormenting Morgan, yet?”

Garcia reels around, caught off guard by a sudden deep but unimpressed voice behind her. When she turns, she finds Hotch. He’s dressed down, out of the attire Morgan and Emily had been talking about. Now, in a simple Hanes t-shirt and black sweatpants. Comfortable-- she likes the way he looks. It may not be his usual attire but it makes him look more… dad-like. More himself.

Garcia looks back over her shoulder and finds herself grinning. Her boss may seem like a boring, hardass but he can have his fun too. No doubt, he either gave Emily the idea to go torment Morgan (never direct but planted the seedling idea) or, at the very least, gave her permission. “I don’t think so,” she answers honestly. “She’s not going to let it go if she knows it bothers him that much.” Which is completely true.

Hotch smiles, softly. A dimple making a guest appearance as he shakes his head. Only Emily Prentiss. He looks Garcia down, lifting a brow at the sight of all the things in her arms. “Can I help you with that?” he offers, motioning to the filled Tupperware clutched to her chest so that they don’t topple over.

She remembers, suddenly, the armful of goodies she has. “Oh yes, sir!” She lets him take a few off the top, telling him what they are as he acquires them. “Those are macadamia nut cookies! This really nice woman--” she follows him as he takes the containers and directs her to the kitchen. “She moved in across the hall from me. She loves to bake and so she’s been giving me all these little recipes.”

He moves right past Emily and Derek, smiling to himself at the panicked raise in Derek’s tone as they catch sight of one another. He directs his attention back to Garcia, making sure she knows he’s listening. Though he doubts his own abilities to dig into the delicacies Garcia has brought, he knows that Jack and Emily will rip them to shreds. Which is the honorable way Garcia’s cooking should go, straight into very gracious mouths.

“I really hadn’t been able to test them out,” she continues. “So, I thought why not try them all right now and bring them to you!” She smiles cheerfully up at him, their height difference more apparent when he looks down realizes she’s not wearing her signature heels. She’s wearing pink converse, perfectly complimenting her pink sweater and pink glasses and jewelry. He thinks she looks positively amazing but knows any compliments will have him smothered in kisses and, well, he’s already been accused of sleeping with one coworker...

Mind still wandering off on the subject of his height and when the last time he saw Garcia in shoes other than heels, he settles a soft smile on her. She keeps talking, showing him each container's contents. It’s the exhaustion that leads him down the path beaten path of dissociation, his mind simply slipping out from beneath him. Someplace warm and fuzzy where his body doesn’t ache.

“Aaron--” He blinks, startling at the sudden touch to his shoulder. He looks down to find Emily and an anxious-looking Garcia. He’s sure Emily and Derek’s conversation about their relationship is now going to seem more damning as her hand slips into his. She squeezes his fingers, “you okay?” Her eyes flick between his, searching for an answer that’s going to be far more honest than the one he produces on his own.

He clears his throat, forcing himself not to blush. “Yeah,” he croaks. “I don’t… I don’t know what that was.” He bashfully averts his eyes to the kitchen floor, very aware of their attention on him now. Too much attention. It’s impossible to hide the way he shivers, the paling, near purpling of his arms. He knows it’s inevitable that they’ll notice but… he’d like to think himself some mastermind. Impervious to the tests of cancer and his treatments. That they don’t affect him. He can hide the central line under layers of clothes. Wear hats to hide the hair. Fake a smile and force his way through the day.

But he’s failing miserably. They see it. The radiation rash now sitting at the base of his neck, red and angry. Peaking out through his shirts. The bulge of the central line under his normal shirts. The nose bleeds that never stops, he’s scarred Reid and Morgan for life with those. The tinnitus that’s recently come back with a vengeance. He’s affected, good and proper, and he hates it. Hates that he has to be so blatantly mortal in front of everyone. Never gets a say in if today is good or bad. If he’ll be too weak to get out of bed or too sick to eat. He hates it.

Garcia is the first person to properly break the tension. She playfully knocks Hotch in the shoulder, more of a tap than anything. It’s careful and his throat tightens with the realization of how weak he must look to make Garcia afraid she could hurt him with a simple tap. “It’s all good, sir.” She settles a small smile on him, “but you can make it up to me by eating?”

Eating. He runs his tongue along his bottom lip, swallowing thickly around the sick twist of his stomach. “Okay,” he answers softly, forcing a smile to match hers when she beams. Thinking she’s won against his unruly stomach.

Emily glances at him but ignores it.

He just wants to be normal again.

@laiba-the-person, @emily-hottie-prentiss, @unionjackpillow, @clockedstar, @baumarvel, @blakeprentiss, @qvid-pro-qvo, @aaron-hotchner187, @ssalavellan, @lazyhater (Just lmk if you don’t want to be tagged anymore)

#tw cancer #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #penelope garcia #derek morgan

34 notes · View notes

chrisjake-cp · 3 years

Text

History 3 Trapped Filming Diary (full English translation) - Days 61-66 (final part)

Masterpost here.

I don’t own the book so I can’t post my scans of the pictures that came with it. So I posted some other pictures of the scenes that were being filmed. These pics belong to LINE TV or Choco Media, or I’ve taken screenshots.

Read days 61-66 (final day) under the cut.

Day 61

In the final days before the end of shooting, we were finally scheduled to film in Zhaozi’s house.

Zhaozi’s house basically only exists to let him and Jack be able to court each other. Every scene is just sweet and unbearably cute. In the drama, Zhaozi’s house is one that his late grandmother had left him. Mounted on the wall was a small framed picture of an older lady, and the protagonist of this picture was really Tingxuan’s [Kenny’s] living (maternal) grandma. His grandmother is already over 90 years old but she keeps in very strong health and can walk around in the park without having to use crutches. Kenny has a good relationship with his grandmother. When he took this photo out and introduced her to us, his eyes were full of happiness that we didn’t see at other times.⁕

An apron-wearing Jack is like the embodiment of a handsome chef coming to your house. Even if what he prepares are only super simple instant noodles, he could flirt with Zhaozi (and the hearts of many girls).

I don’t know if Zhaozi’s grandma, looking on from the picture frame, would be satisfied with this young idol wearing her apron though.

⁕ Kenny, why so cute? 😭

Day 62

That’s right. Today was also a whole day of kissing, hugging and rolling on the bed (I’m flustered) in Zhaozi’s house. The Sanzhi Little White House B&B has featured as the location for many famous commercials and idol dramas. The inside of the house feels warm and sweet, which is why it was selected as this drama’s setting for Zhaozi’s house.

Zhaozi’s room is located on the second floor. Young people have good physical strength, because they had to kiss from the first floor all the way up to the second floor (if I’m not careful almost all of today’s pictures will be kissing pictures, hahahahaha), then in the room on the second floor they were rolling around in the bed and then back to the first floor to roll on the table.

When you look at the pictures of the table scene, maybe it was cut to a short moment in the show, but the positions and the movements for this scene were rather complicated. The two needed to first practice the chemistry between their positions and the camera, and many different camera angles as well as bloopers happened during filming. The two of them lingered at the table half the night, their rolling around started from dinner and went on until they had a midnight snack. We really can’t but admire the two’s good core strength.

Day 63

Actually, the fighting scenes in the car and after they get out of the car after Tang Yi and Shaofei are being seized were filmed on different days. Therefore, what was filmed today was after Shaofei pulled the handbrake (right, I use this as the dividing point [between the scenes]) and the two of them rushed up the mountain. The weather that day was really cold, so it was also a test for the crew to go shooting in the mountains.

That same day we also shot the plotline of how Shaofei fantasizes about how to get off the mountain. The crew used branches to make a scarecrow for Tang Yi and Shaofei to hang their clothes on. But during the filming process the art team made a total of three scarecrows. When asked about it, it was not because they wanted to have a back-up prop, but because one of them was snatched away by a dog from the mountains to use as a toy.

The art crew went: “Doggie, you bastard, come back here” (in Shaofei’s elevator voice)⁕

⁕ When Shaofei was cuffed to the handrail and Tang Yi stepped out of the elevator, Shaofei said almost the same thing to Tang Yi. (”Tang Yi, you bastard, get back here.”)

Day 64

It’s two days before the end of shooting, and I already can’t think anymore about how many times these two have kissed. And today was another whole day of kissing. I’m not exaggerating. Early in the morning we filmed that Shaofei grabbed Tang Yi’s hands when they got to the courthouse. When Director Qingrong arranged the scene, she figured that the plot allowed for them to kiss again, so a kissing scene was added on the spot.

In the afternoon we switched sets and went to the balcony at the hospital. On the balcony Shaofei confessed his feelings and also stealthily kissed [Tang Yi]. How could someone confess like that and kiss straight after? Our boss Tang hadn’t even responded [to the confession] yet! Counting on my fingers, one camera angle takes 8 takes on average, and for one scene we would approximately change angles four or five times. So for all the scenes from morning until in the afternoon, they at least kissed 70 times, and that’s only today. ⁕

⁕ Listen, I need to see aaaaaaaallllll the taaaaaaaaakes.

Day 65

Tang Yi and Shaofei have finished filming!

They spent 68 days of wind, sun and rain together, they went through being chased by men in black and hit by bullets, together they spent [a night] in an abandoned cabin on fire, the two went from being strangers at the acting and martial arts classes to gradually developing a deep connection with each other and hand in hand, they overcame all kinds of difficulties.

Different from the other “HIStory” series we have made before, <Trapped> was the first story to break free of having a school campus as its setting. The plot was much more complicated and the actors were faced with more and bigger challenges. Regardless of whether it were psychological challenges concerning their acting, or psychical challenges of being involved in numerous fights and constantly sustaining injuries, it was all very tough on them. The last day of filming, with good weather, was also spent in a fight. They fought 8 hours straight, from 9am in the morning until the sun set in the mountains, which was a major test of physical strength. The sun shone brightly, there were high temperatures and the rays of the sun dazzled the eyes. Tang Yi fought bravely in a suit and leather shoes, and Shaofei’s left eye was hit during the fighting process. He immediately returned to a state of readiness for war after a quick break to apply some ice to it. Thank you, all actors, for your dedication and the beauty of each frame that you presented, and thank you to the crew members behind the scenes for their hard work. You can leave the rest up to us now.

Boss Tang was finished with shooting a little earlier than Shaofei, because in the evening, Unit 3 continued their scenes in the restaurant. Unexpectedly a group of people arrived earlier at the restaurant and waited for our arrival. It turned out to be our senior colleagues from <Crossing The Line>, Yanze (Zach Lu) and Menglin (Nick Yang) who were visiting the set. When they saw their younger ‘brothers’ working hard to film this show, and them being riddled with scars from filming, the original mood of being there to supervise softened. Senior Zach patted junior Jake on the shoulder, saying, “Seeing you taking this so seriously, I can pass the baton to you guys with an assured mind.”

Day 66

On the last day of shooting, the crew was divided into two groups to carry out the work. One group was responsible for returning to the international conference office and for going up the mountains to shoot some more final material to fill up some gaps; the other group in turn stayed behind at Zhaozi’s house to shoot scenes for the final episode, namely the fight and bed scenes after Jack took Zhaozi home on his motorbike (or should I say ‘transported’ home?). The evening’s bed scene called for Jack to do a lot of push-ups. Each time after “Action” was yelled, Jack huffed out sounds like “Ah” and “Huh” while doing his push-ups, which rendered the crew at the scene unable to stop laughing. After shooting the ‘official’ scenes, to increase the sound effects from under the covers, the two actors were asked specifically to use the blanket to create some more needed sounds for the show. After confirming that the sounds were okay, Director Qingrong yelled “We can pack up! <Trapped> has finally finished shooting.” Because there were other houses in the neighbourhood of Jack’s house and it was night time, everyone cheered a little bit but immediately said “shhhhhh”, reminding each other to be quiet.

To be frank, practicing how to say goodbye is definitely not a simple thing. When you continue doing the same thing for 21 days, it would slowly become a habit. But with <Trapped>, from when shooting started until we finished filming, we went through 66 work days together. We were used to getting along with everyone, we were used to getting up early and eating breakfast together, or eating a snack in the middle of the night. Meeting with this whole team every day had become a kind of habit. In these 66 days, we experienced Yilan in 10 degrees and 30 degrees, we climbed mountains together and jumped into swimming pools together, we may have accidentally slipped on the mountain and gotten injured, we were shot at by airsoft guns (BB guns), and the thick smoke in the abandoned cabin made our nostrils turn black. All of that will become memories now. Finishing shooting [a show] is like the feeling of attending a graduation ceremony when you are a kid: you look forward to it, but the closer to the day it gets, the more you feel like you don’t want it to end. We hope that everyone who reads this diary will feel the warmth brough by the crew of <Trapped> and we also hope that these memories that left a deep impression, will forever remain in everyone’s hearts.

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freebooter4ever · 4 years

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Semper Fi

Sledge and Snafu walk into a tattoo parlor, what happens? For @diasimar short sledgefu one shot that deals with the - ahem - sexiness of Snafu getting that inner thigh tattoo while in the Marines stationed overseas (suggestive nudity but nothing explicit)

Snafu gets the tattoo on Hawaii during one of the lulls in action sometime after his second stint on Pavuvu. He’s been carousing almost every night, gambling a lot, winning money, sending quite a bit home to his baby sister, spending even more on booze, meeting the finest of the fine in Hawaiian polite society. For the first time in months Eugene and he aren’t attached at the hip in a foxhole anymore, and Snafu’s going a bit wild. For some reason though, no matter how late Snafu returns to their tent, Eugene is still awake, his lamp turned on, his long nose in a book. Even if it’s 3am Eugene greets Snafu as he stumbles into bed, and then calmly continues reading until Snafu passes out. Snafu’s beginning to worry Eugene doesn’t sleep at all. Yet every time Snafu asks Eugene if he wants to come out with him, Eugene politely turns him down.

When it comes to gambling, Snafu tries to stick to branches of the military that aren’t the Marines. He already has a reputation amongst the first and the fifth, and almost every single one of his friends refuses to lose money to him anymore. It’s when Snafu discovers how easy it is to part Navy sailors with their money, that Snafu starts seeing the tattoos. Snafu asks around and discovers there’s a guy who will do it for cheap for armed forces, who is an artist with ink, and who even has some Marines flash to choose from.

Snafu announces his plans for a tattoo to Sledge that evening, who glances up from his book and replies that this is exactly why he takes the night watch these days.

“You’re drunk, Snafu,” Eugene says, “Go to bed. We’ll see if this tattoo is still a good idea in the morning.”

Snafu doesn’t tell Gene that he’s pretty sure this idea has been brewing in the back of his head for days. Instead he goes to bed. And he also realizes that there’s some part of Eugene stuck in those foxholes, still keeping watch, even though they’re on Hawaii where the worst that can happen already has. Gene shouldn’t be worrying about anything, and he certainly shouldn’t be watching over Snafu while he sleeps. If anyone should be looking after anybody it should be Snafu. He’s the one half in love.

“If I get a tattoo on my own, will you hate me?” Snafu asks Gene the next morning.

“Why would I hate you?” Eugene replies, genuinely confused.

Snafu shrugs. He always assumed Eugene would one day.

Eugene rolls his eyes, satisfied that Snafu is back to his normal enigmatic sober self, and then rolls over in his cot and goes back to sleep.

This time Snafu stays awake, studying Sledgehammer’s sleeping face, munching on a chocolate bar while Eugene snores. By the time Snafu finishes his breakfast, and Eugene is properly awake, Snafu gets an idea about how to put Eugene’s watchdog tendencies to good use.

“Why am I coming with you to Chinatown?” Eugene asks that afternoon as they make their way across Honolulu.

“Because that’s where Jerry’s shop is,” Snafu answers, “It’s art, Eugene, you’ll love it. Trust me.”

“Who’s Jerry?”

“I’m gonna pretend I didn’t hear that, Gene,” Snafu sighs, “How are you even a Marine? We need to get you out more.”

“I get out plenty,” Eugene gripes and gets that cute nose wrinkle between his brows that happens whenever Snafu teases him too much.

Snafu grins.

“Just because I don’t drink, doesn’t mean I judge anyone else for it,” Eugene says defensively.

“I know you don’t, Boo, and all the guys respect you for it, but they’ll love you for it if you also join us from time to time. You don’t gotta do anything, just be there,” Snafu says.

“Huh,” Eugene says, and thoughtfully considers Snafu’s suggestion while they walk. It baffles Snafu sometimes, how Eugene actually take Snafu’s opinions into consideration. Gene listens, and thinks on it until he understands, and then adjusts his behavior as he sees fit, and he puts a hell of a lot more stock into Snafu’s judgement than Snafu could ever have imagined him doing. “Are you included in this?” Eugene asks after a period of silence.

“What?” Snafu holds the door open to the tattoo parlor for him.

“Will you love me if I hang out from time to time?” Eugene asks and hesitates in the doorway.

“I already love you, Gene, you don’t gotta work on that,” Snafu winks and playfully pushes Sledge’s ass the rest of the way into the shop.

Eugene looks endearingly uncomfortable standing in the middle of the tattoo parlor. Gene’s eyes go wide and they keep sliding over to the corner of the shop where a sailor with bulging muscles is having a delicate bird tattooed onto his bicep. Snafu slides his arm across Eugene’s shoulder to help the poor guy relax while they wait their turn to be helped.

“What am I doing here?” Gene hisses lowly in Snafu’s ear as he leans against him.

“I want to get the tattoo on a sensitive area,” Snafu whispers back and leans closer. Any excuse to hold Gene tighter.

“How sensitive?” Sledge is looking at Snafu like Snafu’s situation has gone from fucked up to total insanity.

“On a part of me that might make things a little too hot, if you know what I mean,” Snafu elaborates.

“Shelton, what the heck are you getting at?”

“I’m getting the eagle and globe on my inner thigh and I want you to be here to make sure nothing turns raunchy,” Snafu explains.

Eugene pulls away and stares at him for a full minute. “What the hell do you think is going to be sexy about a man sticking a needle in your skin for a couple hours?”

“I dunno, Sledgehammer, I’m just concerned he’s going to be nose to nose with certain areas of myself I like to keep private,” Snafu says.

“Then why not get it on your arm like a normal person?” Sledge whispers accusingly.

Snafu shrugs. He swears Eugene looks fiercely jealous, but maybe he’s just seeing things. “Hate me yet?” he asks.

Eugene just glares in response. And crosses his arms in a bit of a huff. But he doesn’t leave the shop. Eugene doesn’t say another word. He silently inspects the art Snafu picks out. And when it’s Snafu’s turn, Eugene stands beside him. He silently watches as Snafu drapes himself over the bench and splays his legs open. A strategically placed thin blanket keeps Snafu’s dignity intact, but his ass is otherwise as bare as the day he was born.

Eugene was right about the artist being professional and too focused to do much else. The guy doesn’t even treat Snafu like he’s a body made of flesh and bone, just canvas. The artist is firm, and calm, and certain of every mark he makes.

And the only thing Snafu finds distracting is the unexpected intensity of Eugene staring at Snafu’s crotch while the tattoo is being done.

At first it’s fine. The tattoo starts almost inside his hip and the pain is next to nothing. And certainly nothing Snafu can’t handle. Until the needle goes lower, into sensitive fatty areas, and the pain explodes.

“Fuck!” Snafu grits out as he tries to keep his body from reacting.

That gets Eugene’s attention on Snafu’s face, finally. Gene turns to him and takes his hand gently.

Snafu isn’t having it. He grips Eugene’s hand so hard his knuckles turn white and Eugene’s eyebrows shoot up on his face in shock. Snafu almost growls with the pain, and tears prick his eyes. In all Snafu’s half baked plans about giving Eugene something artsy to admire that they can both share, and by coincidence letting Eugene watch over Snafu’s dick for a couple hours, Snafu had never considered he might end up looking ridiculous in front of his crush.

“Hey, look at me,” Eugene whispers softly right beside Snafu’s head. Gene crouches down beside the bench so they’re eye level, and gently slides his fingers across Snafu’s cheek. He turns Snafu’s head to face him, away from the work being done on Snafu’s leg, and suddenly all Snafu can see is the adoration and concern in Eugene’s eyes.

“Sledgehammer...?” is all Snafu can manage to say.

Eugene holds Snafu’s hand tight and cups Snafu’s face, and whispers sweet nothings about how beautiful Snafu is. Something about Snafu’s stubble and square jaw, and something about the rain. And Snafu can barely pay attention, but if he watches Eugene’s lips form around the words long enough he almost forgets the pain.

‘Just fucking kiss me,” Snafu wants to be able to say, ‘I’ve been waiting for you to do it for months.”

He doesn’t say it.

He does, however, manage to survive his first (and hopefully only) tattoo experience thanks to Gene’s helping hand (Literally. Snafu hopes he didn’t maim Gene’s drawing hand.). The artist wraps Snafu’s leg and gives him instructions on how to care for the tattoo in the first few days. The artist also gives him and Gene a considering look, but says nothing. Snafu supposes the guy’s probably used to all sorts, what with him tattooing mostly Navy boys, a branch of the armed forces where what Snafu wants to do to Gene is almost legal. Almost.

Snafu’s leg doesn’t hurt too much, but he plays it up a bit for sympathy. Eugene steadfastly allows Snafu to lean on him the whole walk home, with Gene’s arm strong and secure around Snafu’s waist. To be fair it is hard to walk with a giant bandage around a guy’s inner thigh. Snafu is reduced to an awkward hobble. He is relieved when he can finally stagger into their tent and flop onto Gene’s cot.

“Snafu, wrong bed,” Eugene points out helpfully. He tries to help Snafu stand back up.

Snafu refuses and goes limp.

“Snaf, you’re on my book.”

Snafu does move for that.

Eugene rescues his book and then sits down at the foot end of the cot. “So how long is it gonna take to heal?” he asks conversationally.

Snafu grunts.

“I’ll bring you dinner,” Eugene announces. He pats Snafu’s ankle lovingly and stands back up with a sigh. A few hours of silence and he returns with rice. “I figured simple was better for now,” he explains.

Snafu makes no comment on his freely given dinner, and eats his rice quietly while Eugene carefully peels the bandage off Snafu’s thigh.

“It’s gonna look better in a few weeks,” Snafu assures him.

With his head still bent over Snafu’s crotch, Eugene looks at him skeptically from underneath his brow.

“Hopefully,” Snafu adds, his confidence faltering a little.

Snafu spends the next three days wallowing in comfort with Eugene at his beck and call. Somewhere in town Eugene picks up an odd smelling cream that Eugene swears on his life will help. Snafu agrees, not because he’s in pain or worried about the tattoo becoming infected. But because he just enjoys it when Eugene leans across Snafu’s legs on the cot to get a good angle, pushes down Snafu’s pants, and then rubs little feather-light circles over Snafu’s naked thigh to massage the cream in.

“Think you can walk now?” Eugene asks on the fourth day after he’s rubbed the cream into Snafu’s skin.

It takes Snafu a minute to remember that he never mentioned to Eugene that walking was no longer a problem after the bandage came off the first day. “Oh...probably,” Snafu says while keeping his voice deceptively light.

Eugene sighs. He’s been doing that a lot lately. “Better not try,” he says, “Just to be sure. It’s starting to scab.” Eugene trails a finger down the tattoo. He barely brushes the tiny portions of scabbed skin, but it sends a strange tingle up Snafu’s spine.

Snafu swallows. “Think it’s supposed to do that,” he opinions, “The scabbing.” - not the tingling.

“I might get Jay to bring you your dinner tonight...” Eugene trails off, his thoughts clearly elsewhere. All of Snafu’s focus is on Eugene’s hand still resting over the clothed portion of Snafu’s leg. Till he hears what Eugene said.

“What???” Snafu demands.

“I’ve been thinking of going out with the guys. Burgie says it’s Stringbean’s birthday or something,” Eugene says.

“What? No!” Snafu yanks his pants back up over his crotch.

“You said I needed to spend more time with them...”

“Yeah, but not without me!” Snafu exclaims, “I’ll come along...”

“Not so fast,” Eugene holds Snafu’s chest down on the bed with his hand, and briefly fulfills one of Snafu’s many fantasies, “If you get that tattoo infected, you might be stuck here even longer than if you just wait it out now.”

“But I...” Snafu is realizing his subterfuge in getting Eugene to wait on him hand and foot is coming back to bite him in the ass.

“Jay’s staying behind tonight to write a letter to his folks,” Eugene concludes, “He won’t mind bringing you food, honest.”

“But it’s pork chops tonight!” Snafu says as Eugene gets up to leave.

“I think Jay can handle carrying some pork chops,” Eugene chuckles.

Snafu’s losing him. He’s almost out the door. Eugene’s gonna find a replacement caretaker and that’ll be the end to Snafu monopolizing his time.

“Gene!” Snafu calls desperately. He scrambles out of bed and grabs Eugene’s wrist.

Eugene blinks at him in surprise. “I thought you were in pain...?”

Snafu opens his mouth and casts his eyes anywhere but on Gene so maybe Sledgehammer won’t see his guilt. In his haste, Snafu forgot to button his pants. They’re falling down his hips again.

“You were never in any pain, were you?” Eugene asks.

“Maybe for the first...” Snafu thinks hard, “...three...or four...hours...?”

“It’s been four days Snafu,” Eugene starts advancing on him like he’s gonna give Snafu some real pain to think about, “I help you limp to the toilet four times a day. I’ve been giving you sponge baths!”

Snafu trips backwards and falls onto Gene’s cot. “I’ve been reading your books aloud for you!” he protests, “You like it when I do the heavy accent.” As if that makes them even.

“You. Owe. Me,” Eugene emphasizes. And shoves Snafu flat on his back

“Semper Fi?” Snafu says with a grin.

“Get your own damn pork chops, Shelton,” Eugene shakes his head in disgust - the worst expression Snafu could imagine being on his face, “And get out of my cot. You are perfectly capable of using your own.” He moves as if to tip over the cot and dump Snafu out of it.

“Wait!” Snafu sprawls across it like a heavy starfish. “True, my leg doesn’t hurt, but I don’t want to move too much and risk breaking open the scabs,” Snafu protests, “Remember! Potential infection!”

Eugene stops, and considers this carefully. “Fair point,” he says.

“Fuck...” Snafu groans and pushes himself up on his elbows. “You listen to my advice too much, Hammer. Don’t go out with those guys. Stay in tonight. With me. I’ll even read to you from that dumbass history book you love so much.”

This gets Eugene’s interest. He knows Snafu prefers the fiction novels over the dry facts. But Eugene’s a sucker for timelines and dates.

Snafu’s got him on the edge. He just needs one last enticement to tip Eugene over.

“C’mon Sledge, help me out with this and when it’s all healed, I’ll let you and only you kiss it,” Snafu jokes, hoping that if he entertains Eugene enough, Gene won’t kick him out of his cot. Snafu wiggles his leg enticingly. It makes the tattoo jiggle. The Marines Corps eagle flaps it’s wings. Snafu smiles beguilingly.

Except Eugene’s not laughing. His eyes are devastatingly serious as he thinks over Snafu’s words. He sits down on the cot again, on top of Snafu’s feet. And leans forward, sliding his hand up Snafu’s leg the whole way. His fingers grip Snafu’s thigh just below the marred skin of the tattoo, as if he’s waiting for the day he can touch that skin without hesitance. He stares Snafu straight in the eye with an uncompromising look and says, “Deal.”

Snafu is hit with flashes of fantasy - of Eugene’s head bending down, his lips replacing his fingers, Eugene kissing his way up the tattoo straight to Snafu’s...

“Shake on it,” Eugene insists, holding out his hand.

Snafu shakes wordlessly.

And Eugene marches out of the room to fetch Snafu his pork chops.

Snafu drops back onto the cot again and wonders desperately if jerking off would reopen the wounds, or stretch the tattoo beyond recognition.

#sledgefu #bad germs

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itsbenedict · 4 years

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I didn’t post about everything I played this year, so here’s my opinions on the stuff I played that I didn’t make a rec post for:

Raging Loop

Raging Loop is one of them twisty meta Zero Escape-y branching-path visual novels where an ensemble cast is trapped in a mysterious circumstance where people are dying gruesomely, and you have to find out what’s happening and stop it by looping a bunch.

I can’t wholeheartedly recommend it, because... it tries to have its cake and eat it too with the supernatural elements. Clearly magic is real and has important impacts on the scenario, but then other parts are trickery you’re supposed to see through, and it’s entirely uninterested in cluing you in to how that trickery was accomplished. Not exactly a fair play mystery, in that regard- you have to kind of just be along for the ride, rather than try to figure it out.

That said, it’s a good ride- pretty strong character writing, and the central conceit of the Werewolf/Mafia-style murder scenario creates really interesting drama. It’s more concerned with making itself feel clever than letting the player feel clever, but it’s still well-paced and gripping and has a pretty decent resolution.

Detective Grimoire

I recommended Tangle Tower, the sequel, pretty strongly- and this one, while obviously a little rougher around the edges with the art and mechanics (the suspicion tracker system is a total dud; I didn’t even realize it existed until I realized I was missing an achievement for using it), it’s still pretty darn good. Really fun character designs and animations, fully-voiced, and a solid whodunit backing it all. Plus- while the two are more or less self-contained, the continuity threads with Tangle Tower raised some really interesting questions.

Contradiction - the all-video murder mystery

This one was pretty fun, largely on the strength of the actors. The main mechanic of interrogating people on evidence and using their own statements against each other was some good stuff, too. Definitely had that Phoenix Wright quality to the deductions, and Jenks is a really fun character. (Had a few points where progression was just linked to standing in a certain previously-abandoned area of the map where a clue was suddenly there for no reason, there- good thing it had a hint system.)

As a mystery, it could use a little work- most of what you end up finding out is sequel bait (for a sequel that never actually came together, unfortunately), and the actual whodunit is just sort of hiding in the cracks of all that. And... cornering the culprit just sort of happens out of nowhere once you’ve got your hands on the right piece of evidence, without much fanfare. You’re following up on leads like usual, you find a little lie in someone’s testimony, and then- oh, shit, they’re just confessing everything! Unlike all the previous times you questioned them and they were super evasive like everyone else! And then the game is over.

All in all, it’s pretty meaty and entertaining and I’d recommend it, but unfortunately the creators have moved on to other things, so there’s not going to be any follow-up on the stuff it left unresolved.

Ikenfell

Ikenfell is a tightly-designed RPG about kids at a magic school, with Paper Mario-style action command mechanics and a battle system that makes a big deal out of careful positioning and movement, which was really enjoyable. The difficulty’s a little high (I recommend always always always speccing into max damage because killing things before they kill you is worth more than any amount of defense, speed doesn’t work, and healing is cheap), but I found it really satisfying.

There’s... something... off? About... I don’t know how to put it, it’s... doing that “yes, everyone is queer and mentally ill, deal with it” thing, which, sure, okay. But for a lot of them it’s such a background thing, like... half the playable cast is unambiguously nonbinary, but like... I don’t know if it’s trying to make some statement on how there are no rules to being NB and you can 100% perform a particular binary gender presentation but still count, or if they wrote the whole story and then changed the pronouns of some of the characters for Representation Points, or what. Probably the former? I dunno, it just feels weird. Maybe I’m just not woke enough to Get It.

(unrelatedly: why the heck is the official art they use everywhere so... off-model? none of them look like they do in-game- they look like the creator commissioned someone to draw a group shot with one reference image each and didn’t tell them anything about the characters. how much you wanna bet they commissioned a friend and it came out wrong but they were too polite to say “sorry, no, this is wrong, can you do it over?”)

Trails of Cold Steel IV

Hoo boy. It’s... not great, and it’s not great in a pretty predictable way for an even-numbered entry in the Trails series. It happens every time- first there’s a game in a new engine with new characters and a new world to explore, and it’s really nice and does interesting things... and then it ends on a cliffhanger, and then there’s a sequel game in the same engine with the same characters and the same world, reusing as many assets as possible. Also the League Of Generically Evil Anime Supervillains is there causing trouble for reasons they refuse to explain, and the plot is a storm of magicbabble and macguffin-chasing that makes little to no sense.

Cold Steel IV is that for Cold Steel III, full stop. Welcome back to all the same places you visited last game, except this time there’s some stupid magic apocalypse happening (not that it stops you from taking the time to do random sidequests constantly, of course). The whole “oh, the evil curse mind controls people and that’s why they do stupid bullshit that’s in no one’s interest” plot point is leaned on super hard, and it’s just a big yawn the whole way through.

It’s still really fun, though, because the battle system remains really well-designed. (The same battle system that was just as fun in Cold Steel III, mind you, but it hasn’t gotten old.) And- though they’re struggling to square it with the dumb mind control apocalypse plot, the NPC dialogue continues to make the world feel believable and lived-in. They don’t slack on the parts that make Trails good- it’s just the parts that make Trails bad are making themselves more evident than ever.

did finally get to date Towa though so that’s a win

One Step From Eden

OSFE is... uh. It’s fucking hard is what it is. It’s sort of a deckbuilding roguelike, and there’s this combat that takes place on a grid, and- wait, it’s like Mega Man Battle Network, it’s exactly like Mega Man Battle Network. Man, I forgot about that, but the mechanical influence is extremely obvious. It’s MMBN meets Slay the Spire.

Except it’s super duper hard as hell, because unlike MMBN you can’t pause and swap out chips or anything- everything is just always happening so much, all at once, everywhere, and you have no recourse but to git gud and learn all the enemy patterns and the behavior of your own spells and develop the twitch reflexes necessary to not fucking die from all the shit that’s on the screen always.

(What’s the story? Uhhhh, there was some kind of magic apocalypse, and some anime girls are trying to reach a city for some reason that doesn’t really get explained ever. The game doesn’t really care to build its world at all- it’s all mechanics plus a little token character dialogue that doesn’t say much.)

The point is it’s really frickin’ hard but I am an epic pro gamer and I got ALL THE ACHIEVEMENTS, MOTHERFUCKER. If you’ve played it, I expect you to be really god damn impressed with me, okay???

A Short Hike

This one was really relaxing! It’s a platformer where you explore an Animal Crossing-y island of cartoon animal people, collecting mobility upgrades- but like, mainly it’s about straight chillin’. The flight controls are fun and there’s lots of little secrets to find and it’s just a nice time that doesn’t drag on too long. Not too much to say about this one.

Pokémon Sword

Ehhhhh.

I’m not here for the hot takes about how Dexit is good actually. Development hell happened, they had to make cuts for time, I get it. It’s disappointing and makes the game a little bit worse, but it’s not the end of the world.

Apart from that... perfectly serviceable? The Wild Area could’ve used a little more technical polish (as could most things in the game, really) but was a step in the right direction, giving the player a wider array of early-game team-building options than ever before. No HMs is good. Story and characters were kind of nothing, but that’s par for the course. “At least this time they’re not shoehorning in some kind of stupid evil-team-wants-legendary-pokemon-to-destroy-the-world apocalypse plot”, I thought to myself before they managed to shoehorn one in at the last minute with zero buildup- but, hey, beats wasting half the game on it.

It’s nothing special and it’s missing a lot of polish, but its problems are mainly due to being rushed, and presumably next gen they’ll be able to reuse a lot of the models and animations (maybe even improve the animations so they’re not so boring??? a man can dream) and make something interesting. SwSh seem like they were testing the waters for something else, and not taking too many chances in the meantime.

(yo why would you sell all these cosmetic items and then turn them all off during gym battles, though)

Hades

Hades is- oh, who am I kidding? Everyone knows Hades, it’s the game of the year, greatest thing since sliced bread, Supergiant are heroes, yada yada yada. I’ve played almost 300 hours of it and I’ve completed everything except all the Resources Director levels (currently a Sigma Wraith), it’s extremely fun and you don’t need me to tell you that.

Petal Crash

It was that thing the Paranatural creator helped on? It’s, uh. It’s a block-sliding puzzle game thing, sort of in a Puyo Puyo vein. It has fun character designs and some good dialogue, like you’d expect from Zack’s involvement, but it didn’t really leave an impression otherwise (besides how got dang infuriating some of its Turn Trial puzzles can be.) The story is... kinda heartwarming, kinda didactic, kinda childish, not especially deep or interesting. Hard for it to be, when it’s told through little bits of fluffy character dialogue that exist to set up a puzzle battle as quickly as possible. Not super recommended unless you really really like block-sliding puzzles.

Hollow Knight

Man, why’d I sleep on this for so long? It’s a metroidvania platformer with heavy Dark Souls inspiration, in terms of tone and difficulty and death mechanics and environmental storytelling. And it’s... apart from all that, just really good as a game, with tight controls and juicy movement and great animation. Progression is linked as much to mastery as it is to upgrades collected- I found myself in lategame areas facing down things that would’ve killed me ten times over at the start- not because I had the best gear, but because I’d learned the game’s language and understood how to move in ways that wouldn’t get me killed.

(Usually. Sometimes I’d walk into a room and sit on a bench and suddenly there’d be a boss fight and I’d get slaughtered. Ain’t that just the way it goes?)

Anyway, on top of all that it’s just charming as hell, with a really unique and well-realized world full of little bug people. I love how, like, your character is clearly some kind of eldritch abomination, but it’s small and cute and so everyone (besides enemies that attack you on sight because they’re possessed by some kinda evil mold) is like “awww, who’s this little guy? want some help, little guy?”

(except Zote, who is just an ass hole. i love him.)

#game rec #also some game non recs #long post

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detectivedreameater · 3 years

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Off The Record || Metzli and Marley

TIMING: Current PARTIES: @deathisanartmetzli and @detectivedreameater SUMMARY: After a very expensive painting is stolen from Metzli’s gallery, they run head first into the perfect person to help them. Marley’s ready to get back into the game. CONTENT: Blood, Death, A fuckton of sarcasm

The key slid into the lock with a satisfying click, and Metzli made their way to their office to shut off the security system. Everything was in order, everything was in its place. As the air conditioning blew on their face, they grabbed their clipboard, and began their daily ritual. Everything had to be perfect before the curator could open the gallery in 15 minutes.

Making their rounds around the gallery, something was definitely amiss. Section one, check. Section 2, check. Section 3, che—wait a minute. The print out with their fresh check marks must be in error. No, there’s no way Metzli would have made a mistake like that. Upon further inspection, they discovered the Murakami painting they acquired two weeks ago, was gone. “No! No, no, no!” They exclaimed and began to pace angrily.

From the outside, people could see Metzli yelling expletives, but they didn’t care. All that mattered right now was finding the culprit and tearing them apart. How did they get through their security anyway? No, focus. Track. Charging furiously outside, there was plenty of cloud cover thanks to the snow to spare them any pain. Blinded by their mission, they ran into something, no, someone.

Today was routine. No, really, it had been, up until someone had run headlong into Marley, sending her stumbling back a few inches in the crusty snow that had hardened on the sidewalk. She hadn’t really been paying attention to where she was walking, so maybe this was her fault, but she’d had other things on her mind. Namely, Erin. And also that place that her mind kept going back to, with the man and the water and the tree.

She’d been so out of it, she hadn’t even realized she wasn’t wearing her sunglasses. The cloud cover made it enough so that she didn’t feel sluggish or heavy in the afternoon light, but looking up, she found herself blinded for a moment by the glare of sunbeams off of snow drifts. She squinted through it, towards the person they’d plowed into (pun intended) and ruffled her brows. “Slow down there, speedracer,” she grumbled, rubbing her shoulder where they’d collided. “Got somewhere to be?”

Sputtering nonsense for a few moments, it took Metzli everything they had to calm down. Their curly black mane was disheveled from the impact and it took a hand brushing through to set it back in its perfect place. “Yes, I have somewhere to be! One of my most expensive paintings was stolen!” Any attempt to keep cool was out the window and continued to pull their hair in frustration.

Many more expletives were shouted as they gathered themselves together and they took a deep, unnecessary breath. Metzli already had their plate full and now they had to pretend to be polite. Great. “Apologies. The painting is one of a kind by Murakami. So…I’m quite frazzled at the moment.” This time their tone was much more put together and sounded like they were actually sane.

Marley watched with a bored expression, groaning only a little bit internally when it was announced that something had been stolen. And she, as a cop, had a “duty” or whatever. She rustled through her pockets for a moment and picked out her sunglasses, sliding them onto her face as the person in front of her fussed, rather anxiously, with their hair. “Careful,” she said, speaking in her normal deadpan, “you don’t wanna ruin that perfect head of yours.” She couldn’t help but chuckle at the back track, stuffing her hands in her pockets once again. “You don’t have to apologize to me. In fact, I’m probably the best person you could’ve run smack dab into.” She held out her hand, and in it was a business card. “Marley Stryder, Detective.”

She hadn’t wanted to work on an off day, but, hey, duty call or whatever. And a missing painting was much more exciting than the five or so cases that had crossed her desk today about public defacing and noise complaints. Sometimes, on low weeks, White Crest was more boring than Albany. “So, you wanna slow down and tell me what happened? I think I might be able to help.”

With widened eyes, Metzli took the business card, analyzing its legitimacy. Lo and behold, it truly was legit. “Marley Stryder, I’m Metzli Bernal,” Their tone now was a stark contrast to their earlier more frantic one. It was a total one-eighty. The dull and cold tone Marley had did wonders on their little episode.

“I opened maybe fifteen minutes and during my routine checklist, I noticed the Murakami was missing. No security trips, no tapes, and now a 1.8 million dollar painting is just gone!” Metzli was getting worked up again. “I’ll rip apart whoever did this!” Running a hand through their hair once more, they forced air out. “I’m cool, I’m cool. Sorry. This doesn’t happen to me. It’s never happened to me.” There was a certain layer of defeat that coated the last sentence. They felt bested, and that wasn’t a feeling they were familiar with or liked.

Tilting her head as the other person examined her card, Marley waited. She could be patient when needed. It wasn’t like she had anything to do today, really, besides muse on her own misgivings and what she was supposed to do about it all now. “Nice to meet ya, Metzli Bernal.” She tapped the card. “You can keep that.” A glance around the street showed Marley that it was that time of the afternoon where people slid into lazy comas, waiting for time to breech into evening. Aside from dusk, when eyes went from dull to red, it was her favorite time of the day.

“Alright, why don’t you show me the gallery and where the missing painting was hung up,” she offered, pointing down the street from the direction they had come from. “Maybe I can see something you didn’t. And, hey, if we happen to find them, say, before the rest of the squad arrives, I’ll give you a go at ‘em.” Especially because this sounded like something supernatural, and Marley wasn’t interested in coming up with a lie today. “Today’s your lucky day-- I’m the best on the force at finding missing things.”

A smile slowly formed on Metzli’s face. Marley had already proven to be not only a strong ally, but a fun one at that, in a short amount of time. “You’re not a typical detective, are you?” They asked, already knowing the answer. Without saying anything more, the vampire moved back into the gallery, holding the door for Marley.

“The painting was taken from the area over there,” Metzli pointed as they walked. “If you’re the best, I will be forever grateful. Will this reach the news? I don’t think Murakami would be pleased to find out that his painting was stolen, even if it was recovered.” If it were up to them, no one but the two of them would know about this. They would eliminate the culprit and take the painting back. No loose ends, no breaking news.

“Depends on what you consider typical,” Marley answered evenly, following the other person back towards the gallery. It looked fairly new, Marley certainly didn’t remember it ever existing on her nightly rounds of the city. She didn’t mind new places, though, and she certainly didn’t mind new cases, as long as they were interesting. It was a little sad that her most interesting case right now was an art theft. She’d take what she could get. She followed Metzli’s instructions and headed over to the spot where the painting had previously been hanging up. The only clue that anything was missing was the empty gap in the wall space between two other pieces. Marley traced her hand along the way, but it felt as smooth and cool as she expected it to. Nothing had touched it. “Any flickering lights or weird, unexplained events before this?” she asked, bending down to look at the space beneath the painting. No trace of anything on the ground, either.

“Besides some annoying ass ravens that kept following me everywhere? No. Those pendejos were taken care of a while ago. Yesterday was no different from the others either.” Metzli answered confidently. Being able to sense danger and take care of it was in their nature. This had to be a filthy, good for nothing human.

Metzli scowled at the spot where the painting once hung, grinding their teeth together in anger. “If you’re thinking it was an abnormal thing, I doubt it. It smells…too human,” They admitted, thinking out loud so that the two could collaborate together. “Don’t know why an abnormal entity would want such a human thing. The only thing it’s worth is money in most people’s eyes. Then again, they need money too.”

“Ravens?” Marley asked, standing back up and glancing around once more. “Just normal ones or--” she lifted her hands for air quotes-- “ravens.” There were quite a few supernatural species’ that it could be, if it were ravens, but Marley wasn't’ versed in the more critter-like beings. But corvids were her favorite type of bird, so she knew enough about them and the ones that shared the same world as her. A brow rose. “Smells human?” There were a few species that could smell well, vampire and werewolf among them. Marley wasn’t exactly excited to have to deal with a moody maneater, though, if that was the case.

“Not sure a human could’ve walked in here in broad daylight and not leave behind a trace,” she pointed out. “Could’ve been motivated personally. Maybe they really like the piece, or maybe they just really don’t like you. Made any enemies in town yet?”

Metzli quirked their head in curiosity. Marley definitely smelled off, but they couldn’t quite place what species she was yet. “Valravyns. Wouldn’t get off my ass for weeks.” They answered truthfully. “Took a bit of research but I finally figured out what they were and got rid of ‘em.” Shoulders rose and fell in a shrug, dismissing the event as if it were a typical thing.

“Haven’t made very many enemies yet. Give me a few more months though. I’ve kept to myself for the most part. You’d be surprised how well prepared these humans can be in this place. Especially since they’re surrounded.” Metzli didn’t particularly care for humans, but they especially didn’t care for human art criminals. And with such a prestigious piece of work on the line, they were ready to kill.

“I’m assuming they did this in the middle of the night. But what do I know? You’re the detective.”

“Valravyns? You had valravyns on you?” Marley asked, a bit surprised. She hadn’t encountered too many of them in White Crest, but it wasn’t that rare, really. It wasn’t them, though, then. Valravyns had no need for a painting. She didn’t have her duster with her, but that might not be necessary. She held out her hand. “Get me some tape,” she demanded, “clear, if you have it.” There were other ways to dust for fingerprints, and find the proof she was looking for. If nothing showed up, it was likely supernatural.

“Where are all the doors? That’s the front entrance, is there a backdoor? If they picked the lock, which they must’ve if no alarms went off, I’ll be able to tell.” And if it was a human, it’d be easy enough to tell.

“Yes, the cretins ruined a bit of my business, but they’re no longer an issue. Must’ve eaten a body I ate first.” They thought aloud, and mentally shrugged. “Okay, your majesty, I’ll get that for you.” Metzli mocked a little, showing the side that disliked authority and being commanded.

Due to the activities necessary to run an art gallery and be a curator, they were prepared and retrieved clear, artist grade tape for Marley.

Watching as she worked, they answered, “Front entrance, back entrance, and a large delivery door. But that one only has a lock on the inside.” Metzli appreciated the transparency of Marley’s investigation. Her thinking out loud helped them put everything together alongside her. Piecing everything together fueled their anger and they growled. “Will you actually let me get a piece of them before contacting your friends? Or can I actually take the trash out? That’s what I’m used to doing.”

It was becoming increasingly clear what kind of person Metzli was. Marley used to be that way, she supposed. Cold, closed off, angry with and at humans. Maybe she still was like that, some days. If a human knew what she was, what she did, they would hate her, call her a monster. And maybe she was, and maybe she’d been leaning into that for a while now, but it still hurt, sometimes. Here they were, the two of them, so human looking, but probably so far from it. She peeled the tape away and stuck it to the wall near where the edge of the painting would have been, then did it with a few more pieces, lining them up on the edge of a stand before examining each one in turn. “There’s definitely prints here,” she said, “human. Let’s check the front and back doors, see if anything matches.”

She paused at Metzli’s last questions. Marley hadn’t killed anyone in a while, and this was a case that the police could actually get their grubby hands on and punish the culprit. But what good had they been to her lately? Through broken ribs and interdimensional portals and a crushed skull, they had told her she couldn’t be the detective she used to be. Marley stood up and brushed the front of her jacket off. “Friends? Oh, I don’t have any friends at the precinct. Obviously, you happened to find the culprit before I did. Maybe I wasn’t even here,” she shrugged, “maybe justice took it upon itself to deal with this.”

Marley was quickly becoming a character that Metzli liked. A cop that was not only supernatural, but absolutely willing to throw away the rule book. Good. Rules were meant to be broken anyway. Or so the vampire believed. They caught on easily to what Marley was implying and appreciated her offer. “Justice is funny that way. Coming and going at the most opportune times. I do like your style, Marley.” They smiled wickedly and began walking back towards the back entrance. “I doubt they used the front to break in. Too much foot and car traffic to be discreet. Let’s check back here.”

Expensive shoes clacked on the white tile floor, and hands were clasped behind their back. Anger still brewed within, but with a plan and distinct goal, Metzli’s anger was much more structured. Vampiric hands would rip apart the criminals and they’d retrieve the artwork, and maybe they’d have a friend to join in on the fun. “When we catch this imbecile, or even imbeciles, will you be partaking in the justice?” They asked rather excitedly. Killing alongside someone was something they actually missed about being in a clan. The teamwork could and would always get fun.

Marley followed Metzli towards the back door, holding onto the tape as she did, stopping at the door and wrapping a few pieces around it to try and lift some more prints. As she worked, she was relatively quiet, listening to what her companion was saying. She was still uncertain of Metzli’s species, but she supposed it was something that preyed on humans. They all sort of did, didn’t they? That’s what made them monsters. She pulled the tape away and found more prints. “Looks like your human theory is panning out.” She held the tape up before depositing it on the stand next to her. She pulled the door open and checked around the outside, examining the ground, the wall, the space in the alley.

A smile spread across her own lips as she stood up. It was never the hunt that excited her, but the chase. In that way, she supposed, perhaps they’d make a good team. The hunter and the killer. She glanced back at Metzli. “Depends, I suppose,” she shrugged, “I can probably get what I need from them without bloodshed. I’ll save that part for you.” She supposed just finding them might even provide her enough fear to feed from. She pointed down the alley. “Footprints, leading this way. You good?”

Having their theory proven correct seemed like it was a given to them. Of course it was correct. They’d lived long enough to know, to smell when an event was done by a human. “Figured as much. Though it’s nice to have it confirmed by a professional such as you.” Metzli said politely, and with no indication of the thoughts they carried internally. Pleasantries needed to continue if Marley was going to help them. That and she seemed like genuine fun. Fun people deserve pleasantries. At least the people they deemed fun.

“Blood will be all mine if that’s the case. Preferred too. It tastes best when the feeding is full of vengeance. I’ll leave the chase to you and reap the reward. But by the sounds of it, we’ll both benefit from this.” They peered down the direction Marley pointed and nodded. “I’m good. Getting excited, actually. The fun part starts now it seems.”

Metzli could smell them now. They could smell the trail growing stronger, the scent matching exactly what was in the gallery. “You’re right. Let’s head down this way. Can’t stay too long in the sun though. I try not to do it for more than twenty minutes.” It wasn’t likely that they’d stay out very long, but they wanted to be on the safe side. Watching enough crime shows, Metzli figured they’d find some sort of tire tracks from the getaway vehicle.

“Oh, you’re so very welcome,” Marley deadpanned, “I live to validate others.” She adjusted her sunglasses before they headed out into the sunlight, feeling it drag on her once again, longing for the shadows that clung too close to the walls. The mention of sunlight and blood clicked it together in Marley’s brain-- Metzli was a vampire. That checked out. They had the brooding, grumpy facade down. She wondered what might lie beneath that, or if they still had that shiny, fun thing called a soul. She’d met enough vampires-- soulless and not-- in her life to not care much either way for them. They were the lucky ones, after all-- they’d been human once before. They understood what they lost. Marley had never been human, only forced to pretend to be. She would never know what that felt like.

“Don’t worry,” she tapped the side of her head, “nothing escapes my eyes.” Even in the shadows, her vision was perfect. The steps led not to a car, but an old abandoned building. A warehouse. Marley peered through one of the broken windows and found a truck inside. It was loaded with more than just the painting. “Smugglers,” she announced quietly, pointing inside. “Looks like you’ll get your meal and dessert, if you want it.”

Metzli couldn’t help but laugh at Marley’s sarcasm. She was a total delight, and they enjoyed her personality greatly. “God, you’re a lot of fun. After this, I think I’ll buy you some drinks if you’re up for it.” They offered, fully meaning every word. People like Marley weren’t easy to find, and if they could befriend her, they felt like they could make their life that much more exciting. “If more people were like you, this place would be better and I’d probably have more friends.”

It was true, they firmly that. The compliment was rare in that it was genuine and honest. “Son of a bitch.” Metzli peered inside, needing to look away before they lost whatever composure they had collected. “What do you get out of these humans anyway, if not the blood or meat?” They asked, wanting to focus on something else now. The urge to explode was too great to think about what was inside the warehouse.

Avoiding the subject was no use, though. And they began to fume internally. Smugglers. Fucking smugglers bested them! Not for long though. Metzli was sure they’d get the last laugh. They were going to savor every drop.

At that, Marley had to smirk. A rare display of emotion crossing her face. It wasn’t that she tried to seem so blase and deadpanned, but she couldn’t really help it at this point, it was just how she was. Except around certain people. She used to savor the thought of killing, especially those who thought they could get away with abusing their power. Smugglers weren’t exactly in her repertoire, but there was a sheen about this one that made Marley almost able to feel the smuggness. If they weren’t careful, they’d expose a side of this town no one wanted to know about. Therefore, they needed to be stopped.

“Wanna watch and find out?” she grinned, maliciously, before removing her sunglasses and pulling the door open. The shadows were her home and she nearly faded into them, wishing it were darker, even. Nighttime was her home, but these would do for now.

The clack of her boots alerted one man. She didn’t have the ability to sense or smell which one was the painting smuggler, but she didn’t really care. All he had to do was look into her eyes as she smiled and waved and he crumpled to the ground. It was nice to be back, she supposed. She hadn’t been able to drop someone like this in months. His fear tasted like salty candy and she liked her lips. The man in the car hopped out, fumbling for his weapon. “Oh, good,” she said, standing up straight, hovering over the screaming man, “seconds.”

Watching Marley work was like watching a beautiful live art piece. A personal show just for Metzli to marvel in. The men dropped like flies, a striking show of her power that made their mouth hang slightly open. As thoughts raced in their mind, they tried to figure out just what Marley was until they put it together. A Mara. A sweet, dangerous, and efficient Mara. It took a few moments, but they gathered themselves enough to remove their suit jacket and dress shirt so they they wouldn’t get blood on them. Pants and binders were easy enough to replace. Suit jackets were the expensive part.

Leaping forward, Metzli’s face contorted to bare their now showing fangs. A predatory show of power and the fate that was to befall the criminals. Screams bellowed from their first victim. Blood gushed as they tore through arteries and consumed, quickly leaping onto the next victim. “You really know how to put on a show.” They said with bloodied lips. Making a mess didn’t matter, not right now. Not when scum was being taken care of and no one would miss them.

“Who knew a mara and a vampire could work so well together?” Another bite into a man, who’s groans were fading into nothingness.

Marley stepped back, sliding her glasses back on, as she allowed Metzli to partake in her prize. Honestly, she wished it had been harder, but humans were often careless, and with a bloodhound vampire on her side, finding them had been easy. She stuffed her hands in her pockets as she watched the bloodshed and wondered if she should feel bad. What would Erin think of her? They were criminals, though, and they needed to be stopped. It stood to reason that they were probably even part of a larger ring, but she could worry about that later. Maybe it would even lead her to a supernatural body sitting at the top, extorting humans and human objects to make money in a town that already took so much from others. She frowned.

“I’m nothing if not dramatic,” she said, raising a brow. Where she was quiet and restrained, barely lifting a finger to drop her prey, Metzli was messy and efficient, reveling in their kill. Marley admired it, a little. A mara could not sip blood from a body, but stealing breath was just as tantalizing. “Must be our collective appreciation of the night,” she went on, coming over to the dead body Metzli was still drinking from. She prodded him with her foot. “Guess they got their comeuppance, huh? Feel better? Bet your paintings right here in the back.”

Both hunger and the thirst for vengeance had been sated. Getting rid of the bodies would come later, as Metzli knew the warehouse was clearly abandoned. Cleanup could easily be done under the cover of the night. “Presentation and drama has always mattered to me, so I appreciate your showmanship. Much cleaner than mine, but I like to represent brutal strength. It’s messy, but fun.” Blood covered lips smiled, finally done feeding. Their lips were then promptly wiped by the back of Metzli’s arm. “I feel almost euphoric, thank you.”

Taking a moment, they took in a big gulf of air and practically ripped open the big crate they smelled the painting in. Metzli eyed the box, noticing they were just about ready to ship everything. “We got here right on time. Looks like they were packing everything to ship. Probably a much bigger organization. Art theft is common thanks to the money in it.” The painting was surrounded by packing materials to prevent any wear and tear, but it was all the wrong materials. “Fucking idiots,” Metzli spat angrily, splintering the wood underneath their hands. “What now, anyway?” They decided to distract themselves with whatever Marley had to say for now.

“Hence why you’re an artists, huh?” Marley chuckled. Sometimes people were pretty transparent, and she didn’t mind that. While mystery intrigued Marley, sometimes she didn’t mind having the answers presented to her. Sometimes it was a relief not to have to psycho-analyze everyone and everything, even if her brain never shut off about it. She took in a deep breath, almost sighing when the fear in the air dissipated, signaling the death of both men. She was almost disappointed but it was a satisfying snack and she could grab a real meal later, under the cover of dark. “Brutal strength is something to display. I prefer the more...subtle method.”

She strolled over behind Metzli as they tore into the truck, and the crate that held their prized possession. The Murakami painting. Admittedly, Marley had no idea who that was. Art wasn’t much of an interest of hers, but she could appreciate it all the same. “Not damaged, is it?” she asked, tilting her head. “Don’t think I have enough to compensate for that if it is.” She rolled the idea around in her head. “Well...I doubt anyone’s coming back here. When the shipment doesn’t show up, whoever was expecting it is likely to come looking. So we can do one of two things--” she lifted her hand, two fingers raised. “Clean up this mess and leave them wonder what happened. Oooorr--” she drew out the word, a wicked smile curling up her lips-- “we come back and wait for them to find the mess. Take a real meal.” And maybe she was a little excited to have someone gawk at her abilities again. It wasn’t every day you got to watch someone suffocate on air.

Marley was intriguing Metzli in all the right ways. She had not only gotten them a large meal, but helped them locate the painting. For once, they wanted to make sure someone was repaid appropriately. “Subtle is a valid route. And no, no damage done. There would have been though. The idiots don’t know how to properly package shit.” Hands waved to the packing nuts they used, the only thing they used. It was an insult to any artist of notoriety.

Fingers tapped as thoughts swirled in Metzli’s head. Both options were great, amazing even. “God, you’re so full of good ideas. I like the meal option. We can even prepare to cater to us, and maybe get you that fear you actually want.” Working with someone was out of character, but Marley made it hard to pass up the opportunity. She was just too fun and so powerful. Things that Metzli could actually admire in a person, and they had no problem admitting that to her. “What do you say we do that, and with my gallery so close, I’ll keep an eye on the place. Keep you updated. We do make one hell of a team. Deal?” Their hand extended, ready to shake Marley’s. It was a really good idea, one that both of them can get behind happily.

“Good,” Marley nodded, even if she hadn’t actually planned to compensate for anything. It wasn’t her job to do that, but it had felt nice to actually have done some part of her job. She missed it, fuck, she missed it. But until her seizures were under control, the Captain still wasn’t letting her into the field. Yet she’d done this perfectly fine, even caught the culprits and was planning on coming back to finish the job. She ruffled her brows. “Better get that back to your gallery, before someone else shows up. Maybe get some better security, too.”

She waited patiently for Metzli’s answer, pleased at the idea that they thought so highly of her. “Deal,” she answered, without hesitation, reaching out to take their hand. It was cold, and even if she’d expected it, it was still strange to feel. People were usually warm, even she was warm. But she gave them a firm handshake before nodding at them. “You keep an eye out and just gimme a call when you see something, yeah? I can be there in a jiffy. I always feel much better at night. Don’t you?”

Metzli let out a laugh, enjoying Marley’s input to the conversation. She seemed like she had just as much fun as they did, and were excited to do it again. “Yes, I do. Thank you again, Marley. I’ll be seeing you soon for a night of fun.” Picking up their clothes after wiping their hands on the gentleman’s clothes, Metzli made their way back to the gallery, but before doing so, they stopped at the warehouse entrance. “You really are a creature to marvel at. I’m looking forward to watching your little show again.” With that, they disappeared into the alleyway.

#chatzy #wickedswriting #chatzy: metzli #off the record #metzli

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cutesuki--bakugou · 4 years

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a/n: I 1000000% know that unless you’ve read my fic The Dragon Kings Treasure, this is going to be TOTALLY out of context and you will likely have literally no idea about what’s going on or their history. I’ll be posting this little snippet in my AO3 post at the end of the story if you feel like you’d rather read the full thing first before you read this. There’s some spoilers in this, so if you’ve been planning on reading TDKT and haven’t yet, I’d suggest doing that first for context

Main Pairing: Katsuki Bakugou x Koge Naegi (OC) (Fantasy AU)

Story Rating: Explicit

Genre: Fluff / Romance / Domestic / Fantasy AU

Story Warnings: Sex (vaginal), hand job, inhuman extremities (yes, dick) and mutations (dragon), size difference, rough sex, dirty talk, name calling, breeding (sorta), stomach bulge, Bakugou’s insecure, Koge’s horny

Words: 5,110

Written for the @bnhabookclub ‘s members bingo event!

Crossed off: Mirror Sex

Bingo Masterlist

Art in banner by me

“I am actually going to kill you, Koge.”

“Just do it gently, okay?”

Bakugou grumbled at the completely unbothered response from his lover, glowering at her through a mirror. Laying on his stomach, sprawled out on their bed, the young Lord found himself beyond agitated with himself and with his wife, but not for any regular old reason. No, the problem was something that no one could have ever predicted, and it was something that couldn’t be stopped, either. Reversing the process was also out of the question, so he was condemned to adjust himself to the changes of his body, both internal and external. But, compliance didn’t correlate to happiness in this situation, especially not when paired with the pain and frustrations that came with the changes.

It didn’t help that his wife was more that ecstatic about his newfound dragon extremities. The thick, dark red tail that protruded from the base of his hips and horns perched atop his head were the current bane of his existence, as the past few months of them growing into place were like putting him through daily torture. The changes to his hands and the horns, he had gotten used to long ago, but the currently swaying scaled appendage that protruded from his hips had been the most difficult to accept. It was large and cumbersome, always knocking things over, hitting people, or even causing him to trip over his own feet. Even now, as it knocked annoyingly against his own legs, he wished that he could just cut the damn thing off. Why did it even have to grow in the first place?

Well, he knew why.

His wife. The absolute love of his life and mother to his son, the woman he had chosen to be always by his side and Queen of his land. She was the reason this had happened to him, or, at least, a large percentage of it. The rest was his own bloodline, his family and heritage, but this wasn’t exactly something he had expected to happen. His wife, being a dragon halfling, had always sported her dragon features when in her human form, and had the presence, scents, and mannerisms of one at all times. Sure, she could fit in with humans, outside of her inability to register their words if they weren’t dragonborn of some kind, but in the end, she was a dragon. That fact is what prompted these changes in him that he couldn’t control.

It all went back to his bloodline. His family had always had dragon blood, but the last that had dragon features, that he could remember, was his great grandfather. Since then, each royal child born didn’t have physical dragon features, nor could they change into a dragon. All they had was the magic. Until now. Just being with his wife had prompted a change within him, starting out small at first with the ability to purr and his senses more enhanced than they had already been. Then came the changes to his hands, red scales coating the top and down along his wrist and half of his forearm, with thicker skin along his palms and long claws. This change was quick, only a few days of inability to use his hands or take care of the horrible itch that came with it on his own, though Koge was more than willing to help him with that. In truth, Bakugou didn’t think he could have gotten through any of the changes without her help. She knew how to soothe the pain of his horns growing in and massaged his back and tail as it grew over many weeks.

Now, there was no pain. All that was left was to adjust. New clothes, new sleeping positions, new feelings beneath the now sensitive skin of his fingers and palms. The new smells, sounds, and urges, they all required a huge adjustment, but the tail. The tail was the worst of them all.

“Why a fucking tail?” Bakugou whined into the sheets, turning his face into the soft plush fabric to keep his glare off the swaying appendage. “The horns are fine. The hands suck. But a fucking tail?! Koge, I hate it.”

“It did grow in quite big in the end, but it’s really pretty-”

“-Don’t call it pretty-!”

“-And handsome. Rugged. Who knew you had such strong dragon blood that it would come out looking like this!” Scooting her petite body closer, Koge’s fingers traced lightly down his spine, purring sweetly when she breached the hump of his tail. “I love it. I can’t wait until you get more control over it so I can cuddle in it.”

“Tch, and what the fuck is wrong with my arms, huh?!”

“You can’t tell, Katsuki, but your tail is way warmer than your arms.”

In agitation of her argument, his tail swished about roughly, making Koge giggle softly as pillows were knocked from the bed. To avoid getting hit, Koge flopped down to lay up against his side, wiggling and nudging herself beneath his arm until he was forced onto his side, hugging her to him tightly in an attempted punishment. Nuzzling his face into her hair, he felt instantly calmed by the sweet sounds of her purr, which radiated through his mind like a million bees, making his heart and stomach flutter. Then, within no time, his own deep rumbling began, his purr completely swallowing hers in intensity.

“Ooh see, you can’t be that mad if you start purring so easily.” Koge nuzzled her face up against his neck, her tail falling to rest over his legs, intertwining with his as he calmed. Holding her body in closer, Bakugou scoffed quietly, lifting his head so he could see her face.

“You use that against me. Because I can’t help it.”

“Why can’t you help it?” Koge nuzzled her nose against his tenderly, smiling at the sight of his reptilian pupils dilating in pleasurable response to her affections. “You can’t hide your mushy feelings from me, now. Of course I might take advantage of that sometimes.”

“I can’t help it for obvious fucking reasons.” Bakugou’s snarl and growl of his voice didn’t match his touch or change in the pitch of his purr, spurred on by Koge letting her leg rest over his hips so she could be closer to him. “I love your stupid ass, of course I’m going to start up if you do.”

“It’s so cute!” She placed a soft kiss on his lips, though found herself trapped for more than just a few moments as he refused to let her pull away, his hand even slipping up her back to rest against the back of her head. “Mm… I didn’t expect your dragon blood to make you so… affectionate.”

“The fuck does that mean?” With a growl against her lips, Bakugou rolled them over so she was beneath him, taking both of her arms to pin them up above her head, fingers lacing with hers tenderly. “I’m not any more affectionate than I was, dumbass.” Squeezing his hips playfully with her knees, Koge’s smile grew sly.

“I just expected you to become more aggressive and territorial. But instead you’re super sweet, purring, and cuddly. Just like a little pup.”

“Excuse me?!” Bakugou’s purr was cut short with his rush of agitation, his voice booming through their large chambers as Koge laughed. “I’m not a fucking whelp! You take that back!”

“What are you gonna do about it, pup?” Koge couldn’t resist a grin at the flushing of his cheeks, baring her fangs to him playfully. “Gonna whine and spew a little fire out of your nose? Or are you gonna put me in my place?”

With a frustrated growl, Bakugou could only glare down at her for a moment before pulling away, sitting up turning to sit on the edge of the bed, once again facing the mirror. “Oh fuck off! You know I can’t!”

Frowning as guilt began to creep up on her, Koge sat up as well, placing her hand gingerly on his back. “Ah Katsuki, I’m sorry. I… I’ve just been feeling a little frisky lately, especially since that… new change happened. I’m… It’s a bit hard for me to control myself.”

“Tch… It’s fine.” Bakugou’s glare was once again locked on his own reflection, though the center of his focus was his hips. There was another change to his body, one that he had been doing everything he could to hide from her until recently and had continually hoped that it would just vanish. It happened at the worst time, too, as Koge had just gotten to where she was comfortable making love to him again after further recovering from her trauma as a slave. They had almost gotten back to normal, and then his bloodline had to make the biggest dick move ever. Quite literally, in fact.

His manhood had changed to further match his outward extremities. It wasn’t all that extreme, but it was enough to not only make him horrifically self-conscious about it, but fear that he would never properly have sex again. It had grown, in length and girth, with mostly human characteristics, outside of scales at the base that wrapped back around his hips to his tail, a series of ridges along the sides, and a more angled tip. The foreskin he had always sported did little to hide the changes, even when completely flaccid, though hiding it at all was impossible at this point.

With heightened senses and urges, Bakugou found himself craving Koge’s attention, affection, and body more frequently than he had before. They had gotten used to it when his dick was normal, but for a few weeks, now, he had to suffer through the urges without being able to satisfy himself in any way. At first, he came up with excuses as to why he didn’t want to or couldn’t, mostly concerning the pain of his tail - which wasn’t completely a lie - just so that he could avoid the situation all together. But much to his dismay, Koge was quite clever, and she picked up on his odd behavior quickly.

“Your dick changed, didn’t it?” She had cornered him one morning when she had tried to come onto him right before he got into the bath. “Let me see it!”

He had let her, of course, but that only made things worse for him. She wasn’t put off by the changes in the slightest, nor was she concerned that it would be an issue. But he was, and he couldn’t quite get the fear out of his head. Of course, he knew that he would have to come to terms with it eventually and try to do something with this change, even if that jump was going to be difficult. Each time Koge offered to work with him or try anything, he’d back out, leaving him with a very painful experience of having to let his raging boner settle on its own. He couldn’t quite find it within himself to masturbate to get rid of the buildup or his urges, as even the feeling and pleasures were different and way more intense than what he was used to. Out of everything, his dick was the last thing he expected to change, and it had oddly taken the biggest mental toll on him.

His erections were impossible to hide. Any touch that wasn’t his clothing or taking a piss felt like white hot lightning sparking through his body. Sitting or laying were made even more awkward when paired with his tail. He couldn’t properly make love to his wife. He couldn’t pleasure himself. He had to learn how to not walk awkwardly. Any clothes that could accommodate his tail still couldn’t handle his new manhood.

He was different from head to toe, and that bothered him more than he was willing to say out loud. In the end, he didn’t need to say anything. Koge could see it all, but that didn’t make it any less frustrating for her, too. She wanted to help him adjust, more than anything, but it was impossible if he continually blocked himself off like this. Even now, he was trying to hide his obvious boner with his arms, and the discomfort on his expression was worrisome. He may be too reluctant to do something about it himself, but Koge knew that eventually, she’d have to show him that it was okay. By ‘eventually’, she knew that it would have to be now, while the subject was brought to the front and they had no chance of being interrupted.

“Katsuki,” Koge purred near his ear softly, resting her body against his back while her arms came to rest over his broad shoulders. “Let me try-”

“-Koge-”

“- Just a little. You can’t keep going like this. We can’t keep going like this. Sooner or later, you have to let me face the dragon dick. If you just let me try, you’ll see that it’ll be okay.”

Bakugou glowered at his lover out of the corner of his eye, still hunched over his own body in reluctance and worry. “You haven’t seen it erect yet, Koge. It’s… You can’t take it.”

“You underestimate me a little, I think.” Koge nuzzled her nose against his cheek, giving him a firm kiss on the flushed skin. “I’m not human, remember? And your body is reacting to me. I’ll show you that I can take it just fine. Please?”

“I’ll feel like shit if it doesn’t work out…”

“Or you’ll continue to feel like shit if you never try. Right?”

“Tch… You’re right.”

Scooting off the bed, Koge stood in front of him, holding both of her hands out towards him. “Well? Let me help you, Katsuki. I promise it will feel good for both of us.” Although he wanted to take her hands immediately, Bakugou still hesitated, glancing over her body before catching her gentle gaze. Just looking at her like this, clad in nothing but a white sleeping gown, so flushed and unexpecting, had him immediately struggling not to snatch her off her feet and pin her onto the bed beneath him. The thought had his manhood straining, and he knew that he wouldn’t be able to take this type of painful tension any longer. He needed to get past this, so he shifted himself to sit up, taking both of her hands tenderly in acceptance of her help.

Smiling, Koge stepped in closer to stand between his legs, letting her hands slide up his arms with a slow and gentle touch that had goosebumps prickling along his skin. As she caressed the sides of his neck, his hands took hold of her petite hips, scooting himself closer to the edge of the bed to be able to pull her body flush against him. It was so incredibly difficult to hold himself back, the feeling of her body beneath his hands and the scent of her arousal completely overwhelming him, but the tender kisses she placed on his lips helped keep him grounded. Her purr soothed him, almost to the point that he felt as if he were floating, not noticing her hands slip down between their bodies until they sneaked beneath his pants to grip the source of his problems.

At first, the hiss that escaped from between his teeth was from the chill of her hands, until her fingers traced along the prominent ridges, each little bump feeling as if she were stroking his tip. Or, what he remembered stimulation to his tip feeling like when he still had a normal dick. Then, the hiss grew into a deep growl, his entire body stiffening and his hands slipping around to grip her backside as she stroked him with both hands, up and down the aching shaft while avoiding the tip. “Mm, fuck- Yeah, tighter. That’s it-!”

“My hands can’t even wrap around it all the way, Katsuki. And you’re dribbling so much cum already. It’s so warm.” Taking half a step back, Koge shifted his pants down out of the way to free him completely, keeping a little space between them so she could see her work. She wasn’t the only one watching, Bakugou’s eyes locked on the way her hands moved, displacing the slowly flowing precum with each firm stroke up and down his shaft. With the liquid acting as a lubricant, Koge was able to increase her speed, stroking all the way from the base to right before the tip. Before long, Bakugou’s entire body was trembling, his face shoved into her shoulder as he struggled to control his urges to pant and moan.

“Stop teasing me, Koge!”

“If I go there, you’ll cum really quick.”

“Do it!”

The growling demand made Koge bite her bottom lip, stroking from the base all the way back up to the tip, which immediately forced a trembling moan from his lips as he pulled her body back in closer. He was throbbing in her hands by now, each new stroke across his sensitive tip sending him further into an uncontrollable ecstasy. Within no time, what Koge had warned came to fruition, with Bakugou cumming after a few teasing strokes of her thumb around his tip. The petite woman didn’t expect it, of course, nor did she expect Bakugou to tug her body back up against him while rutting his hips forward so his cock stroked against the silk of her gown and soft form of her stomach. Within seconds, the front of the gown was drenched with his cum, the load much larger than either of them could have really expected. It stuck fast to Koge’s skin, hot and thick, coating her fingers and soaking through the thin fabric of her gown to dribble down her stomach.

Panting as he came down from his high, Bakugou kept his face shoved into her shoulder, his entire body tingling with the weight of his release. “Fuck… That’s so much more than before…”

“If you mean cum, then yeah, that’s a lot.” Koge moved back from him a bit, prompting Bakugou to sit up himself and observe the damage. One hand still lightly stroking up and down his still hard shaft, Koge brought the other to her lips, licking the cum from her fingers. “Mm, yummy. You even taste better, Katsuki.”

“That’s a weird thing to notice.” Bakugou glowered up at his lover as she took another step back, first wiping her hands on her already ruined shift before pulling her arms inside and out through the neck opening. With it being so oversized, and with the added weight of the liquid that soaked it, it fell around her feet, leaving her bare. Just like nearly every time he saw her like this, Bakugou felt a lump grow in his throat, the glow of her pale skin in the dim light bringing on the urge to just touch and squeeze. Though, even as the chance presented itself to him with her crawling up onto his lap, he felt frozen, the nerves of still not being able to do this properly creeping back up on him. “Koge-”

“Shh,” Holding onto his shoulders for support and facing him, Koge straddled his lap, knees firmly dug into the mattress. Not quite sitting down onto him yet, the halfling arched her backside out, turning her head a bit to look over her shoulder at the mirror behind them. “Look, Katsuki. See how wet you make me? How badly my body wants you?”

Tearing his eyes off her collarbone area to look over her shoulder as well, the fire in Bakugou’s chest grew hotter from the view she presented to him, having to clench his teeth together to keep him from acting out. Dripping with her essence, Koge’s pussy was incredibly enticing, puffy, and pink with the need for the attention she had been denied all this time. Even still, she was so incredibly small compared to him, and her petite body just didn’t seem like it would be able to take him comfortably. “Koge… It won’t-”

“It will,” Shifting her hips up, Koge let his cock rest between her legs, lowering herself down just enough to be able to grind against him. “I want your cock inside me so badly, Katsuki.” Cupping his cheeks, Koge kept her lips close to his, moaning softly with the stimulation to her clit. “Please let me. I’m begging you. Can’t you feel how hot my body is for you?”

Gripping onto her hips tightly, Bakugou lightly dug his claws into her skin in frustration, which only prompted more vigorous efforts from his wife. Of course he wanted this. He wanted to fill her up to the brim and fuck her until she was an absolute mess. And he could. She wanted it. Then, with a teasing swipe of her cunt along his tip, she broke his restraint, and all he wanted was to be inside her. With a low growl, he reached up and took a fist full of her hair into his grip at the base of her head, firm enough to make her gasp and stop the rolling of her hips.

“Fine.” Bakugou growled against her jawline, keeping her head firmly pulled back to keep her submissive and in place. “But you’d better be able to take it.” With that, his other hand guided her hips up and back, his tip slipping inside of her with ease. Immediately, a sharp gasp erupted from her throat, both of her hands moving back to clutch onto his shoulders while it took every ounce of Bakugou’s self-control not to slam her down all the way. Instead, he urged her down inch by inch, her chest heaving and body trembling as she took him in. By the time he was completely sheathed inside her, Koge was already nothing more than a panting mess, eyes rolled back, and nails dug into his skin. “Look at you. Fucking ruined already.”

The sound of his voice helped pull her back, biting down onto her bottom lip when he released her hair and catching his gaze. “I-I can take it, though. See? I just… Mm, it feels so good, I can’t… I can’t move.” Koge looked back over her shoulder again to see them, her cheeks flushing bright red at how huge he looked stretching her out like this.

Smirking, Bakugou pressed his lips against her temple, his eyes on their reflection as well. “Let me help you.” Finding that they were sufficiently lubricated, both from her and from his still present cum, Bakugou was easily able to pull her hips up and back down again, using his strength to make her bounce on his cock. The moans that escaped from her lips were like none he had heard before, the pure ecstasy drowning out all rational thought she may have had left. Within no time, she had taken over the rhythm, slamming her hips down onto him from tip to base with only the pleasure driving her forward.

Resting back on his hands to keep them supported, Bakugou couldn’t get his eyes off their reflection, just seeing her body bounce and the way his cock vanished inside her hypnotizing him completely. She could take him, and the feeling of being one with her again like this was beyond what he would consider to be euphoria. Though, it was when she began to grind her hips that he nearly lost his control, tearing his eyes away from the mirror to look down at her. Leaning back with her hands supported on his knees, Koge rolled her hips with just as much effort as she had been before, though her eyes were locked on her stomach.

“F-fuck-!” Overwhelmed with the pleasure, tears began to roll down her brightly flushed cheeks, though they were of little consequence. “Fuck! It’s so good! Your cock is so good! So deep inside me! You can…- ah! You can see it!” Sure enough, with each passing roll of her hips, a bulge was visible in her lower abdomen, instantly bringing a deep growl of satisfaction from Bakugou’s chest.

“Yeah? You like seeing that while you fuck yourself on my cock, Koge?” One arm still behind him for support, his other hand came up to grip her hip, urging her to be more aggressive. “How I fill up that slutty fucking pussy?”

“Yes!” Koge’s voice squeaked and trembled, struggling to keep up the momentum against the pleasure. “I love it!”

“Well here, let me give you a better view.” Simultaneously standing up and scooping her body up off his cock, Bakugou made his way over to the mirror, turning her so that her back was pressed against his torso while supporting and spreading open her legs. Puzzled, Koge could only stare at their reflections, watching his cock twitch and her essence leak from her cunt that was aching for his return. With this view, she could truly see the size of him compared to her, making her feel suddenly so small and vulnerable, yet she wanted his cock back inside her more than anything in that moment.

“K-Katsuki-!”

“What, baby? You want it back inside you?”

“Please!” Koge flexed her feet and toes impatiently, sniffling against her stuffed-up nose that came along with the tears. “Please, Katsuki! Put it back inside- a-ah!!” Clenching her eyes shut tightly, Koge leaned her head back against his shoulder at the feeling of his tip slipping back inside her, though her reaction was cut short by Bakugou’s deep and demanding growl in her ear.

“Lift your head up and watch, you horny bitch. I want you to watch how my cock stretches out that tight little cunt.”

Taking in trembling breaths, Koge weakly lifted her head, teary gaze locked back on their reflections. She watched as demanded, gasping and hiccupping as each inch vanished inside her, until he had filled her up to the base. In this position, the bulge in her lower abdomen was even more visible, though she didn’t have much time to take it all in before he started to thrust his hips up into her. A squeal escaped her parted lips with the first rough thrust, sending more pleasured tears cascading down her cheeks as he fucked her. With him in control, it felt like a completely different experience, her mind no longer having to focus on attempting to move.

Now, all she had was him, fucking her relentlessly while she rested secure against his chest. The visual of them only made her hotter, able to see the way his cock ravaged her, his large hands supporting her legs, her breasts bouncing with the movement, and even his expression. That is what she loved to watch the most, how his expression was contorted with the pleasure and he was absolutely lost in it. Though, his eyes were on the reflection as well, and they eventually caught hers staring at his face.

Bakugou felt himself immediately overwhelmed with the state of her ruined body, limp in his grip and completely drunk with pleasure. He wanted to destroy her more, to sink his teeth and claws into her silky flesh until she was marked head to toe by him. And yet, he wanted to hold and caress her, just to feel her tender touch along his burning skin. He wanted all of her and more. “What, Koge? Is it too much for you?”

“N-no-!”

“No?”

“No! I-I love it! I love it! Fuck-!” Koge leaned her head back, eyes rolling up as Bakugou adjusted the position to slam even harder into her. “Yes! I-I haven’t stopped cumming since you put it inside me-! I can’t think!”

“You’re such a good girl. You want my cum, baby?”

“Yes! Yes, I want it! Please fill me up! Breed me! I’m begging you!”

Something animalistic snapped inside Bakugou with her plea, and without a second thought, he turned and shoved her face down into the bed, keeping her hips up in his firm grip as he fucked her mercilessly. Koge’s voice once again peaked, clutching onto the sheets as she moaned and cried into them. The new aggression and dominance he was displaying had her entire body screaming to have his cum inside her, the urge to mate with him so strong that she couldn’t ignore it. All she could sense was him, from his scent to the taste his cum had left on her lips, and without him she knew she would surely go insane.

“Such an obedient little mate,” Bakugou’s grunts and moans began to mix with a deep growl, sending prickling goosebumps across Koge’s flushed and sweaty skin. “I’ll fill you up, slut. I’ll make sure you get what you’re begging for.”

Within the next few moments, Bakugou’s thrusts became erratic as he shifted his body closer to hover over her, digging himself in as deep as he could as he released inside her. With each rough buck of his hips into hers, Koge could feel the hot, thick liquid fill her, struggling to find room beside the large presence of his cock. Still, she couldn’t move or say a word, her entire body twitching and pulsing with the remnants of her final orgasm, squeezing his cock and forcing a sharp hiss from his behind his teeth.

“That’s it, baby. Take it all in.” Taking hold of her ass in his hands, Bakugou spread her open, smirking in satisfaction at the sight of his cum leaking from her cunt around his cock. Slowly, he began to pull out, giving a deep purr at the mess his cum made with his exit, dribbling from her and onto the bed. “Fuck. Your cunt’s too small for all that cum, Koge.”

Panting as she tried to recover some feeling in her limbs, Koge weakly reached down between her legs, using her petite fingers to stroke along her cum stained pussy, pushing them inside her and spreading herself open. “C’mon, Katsuki… Don’t let it all drip out. I told you to breed me.”

“You think I’m done with you?” Grabbing her by the arms, Bakugou pulled her upper body back against his, one of his hands caressing her neck while he kissed her flushed cheek tenderly. “My pretty mate… I’ll make sure you’re bred properly.”

Smiling, Koge placed her hand on his cheek, guiding his lips down to hers. “Mm… you’d better. Now shove that big cock back inside me. And make sure to use your teeth this time. Don’t be gentle with me.”

“Only if you beg.”

#bnhabookclub #bnha imagines #bnha scenarios #bakugou x oc #bakugou #katsuki bakugou #bnha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #oc #original character #koge #bakugou x koge #bnha fanfiction #bnha writing blog #cutesuki-oc #bingo #cutesuki scenarios

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primasveraas-writing · 4 years

Text

Finnpoe Modern AU- Single Dad!Poe- PART 3

AHH here it is!! I’m really happy with how it turned out; thank you again to the darling Eliane who sparked the orginal idea. The brunt of the story is done, but I hope (and suspect) that I will be returning to this AU soon, in the form of more headcanons or one shots.

I hope you enjoy! All requests are currently open.

Part One l Part Two l Part Three

XXX

Poe buys Finn a drink

...then Finn buys Poe a drink, then Poe buys them both drinks because Finn is on a teacher’s salary and the only gay bar within a reasonable distance gets away with overpriced beer

Poe learns rather quickly that Finn is more than just an incredibly attractive teacher who’s good with his son- Finn is also shy, and humble. Kind and honest. Slightly giggly when tipsy and rather close in proximity after 3 beers

There comes a point when Poe’s chest aches from laughing and he almost puts his hand on Finn’s knee- he almost leans in- then he remembers himself

Buying his son’s teacher a beer is fine- he likes Finn and so does BB

Kissing his son’s teacher is an entirely separate matter

Poe clears his throat abruptly, and he can feel the heat rushing to his already-warm cheeks as he straightens, pulling away from the other man

Finn pulls back too, a split second of hurt flashing across his face

“I’m sorry,” Poe says thickly, wondering how quickly he can flee the scene without seeming like a total ass, and Finn shakes his head

“Don’t worry about it,” Finn says, unable to fully meet Poe’s eyes. “I should probably get back to Rey, anyways”

Finn stands, and Poe blurts out “it was good to talk with you-” before he can think any of it through

Finn stops, turning back to look at him. He smiles, briefly, then says: “it was”

Poe is still sitting at the bar when Rey and Finn leave

Poe pretends he’s not watching them go

The upside to the next day is that his hangover is very mild, and that BB waits until 7am to wake him up instead of jumping into Poe’s bed at his usual 6am

Small blessings, even on a Saturday

They have a good day, and Poe is able to bury all his worries and regrets about Finn until BB does his homework

(he has to color in a hand turkey and he and Poe are both covered in glitter and ink by the end of it)

But the craft is enough for BB to start talking about school, which he does, pieces of glitter falling to the floor one by one as he signs

We do lots of art in Luke’s class and Finn helps me. He is nice and he brings in candy sometimes. He never rushes me or worries like Mr. C does and he is learning ASL very fast and sometimes he lets us stay out for recess for an extra three minutes and he will push us on the tire swing-

So Poe adds to his list of the way he can describe Finn- adored by his son. Generous. A total sucker for cute kids. Endlessly patient, a quick learner, a sweet tooth… off-limits.

What does he know about Finn, from a few hours of talking and stories from his son? Is it enough to justify his pining?

It doesn’t matter, in the end. At best, he and Finn are friends, and Poe has only BB’s best interests in mind- everything else is secondary to his son

The guilt and ache fade, for the most part. He sees Finn here and there, and the two men keep it friendly and brief

At parent-teacher conferences, Finn barely looks at Poe

It stings in the fall, but even that wound has healed when spring comes. Finn is still removed, a little less open, but he manages a small smile when Poe catches his gaze during the last conference that year

Summer arrives, and Poe has almost stopped dreaming of kissing Finn entirely

There’s a small celebration to celebrate the end of the school year, hosted by one of the PTA moms

BB takes off with some of the kids immediately, leaving Poe to his own devices

He’s half-heartedly participating in a discussion about gluten-free sugar cookies with some of the parents while watching BB chase his friends around the yard

He feels a light touch on his arm and turns to see Finn standing there, smiling

“I wanted to tell you what a delight it was to teach BB this year,” Finn says, “and that I’m sorry I won’t have longer with him.”

Poe starts, brow furrowing in surprise. “What do you mean?”

“I’m teaching preschool next year,” Finn says, looking down at his feet before glancing up at Poe again. “I originally applied to work with younger kids, but they didn’t have an opening until next fall.”

“So you’re not teaching BB anymore?” Finn shakes his head. “He’ll be devastated.”

Finn frowns, sadness filling his eyes, but Poe nudges him with his elbow, grinning softly

“I’m happy for you Finn, really. BB loved working with you.”

“I loved it too.” Finn is quiet, serious, and his voice falters before Finn goes silent. He blinks rapidly, and Poe realizes just how much Finn cares about his students

“We’ll have to have you over for dinner. To thank you.”

Finn’s eyes widen, wetness replaced with a brilliant spark. His mouth opens, then there’s the unmistakable sound of children colliding, a solid thud followed by squeals, giggles, and shouts

Poe sighs, looking around for BB, despite knowing in his heart of hearts that BB is almost always involved in whatever shenanigans are happening

“I should go.” Poe rests his hand on Finn’s arm. “We’ll work out a date later,” he says, winking before he turns around to chase after his son

When the time comes, BB is excited as Poe is nervous- he insists on helping with the cooking, which slows things significantly, if only because Poe has to sign each recipe and he runs circles around the small kitchen hovering over his son

BB has little regard for things like measurements or cation around a hot stove- about halfway through cooking the pasta needed for an old family recipe, BB tries to grab a noodle out of the boiling pot

Poe pulls his hand back just in time, rambling warnings and curses in Spanish and signing his worries and reliefs rapidly in ASL

BB stares up at him innocently, and Poe melts

He also puts his son on his back, so Poe finishes the cooking with a seven-year-old pointing where to go and what to do

They both have to squeeze in a shower before Finn arrives, as they’re each covered in sweat and sauce and flour

(Poe finds a bit of salsa behind BB’s ear as he towels his son off, and he sighs)

Poe is dressing when the door rings. First, he hears BB tearing down the hall, his feet thundering, then the door opening- Poe follows his son, finishing the last buttons on his shirt, then Finn is in his living room, BB tugging on his hand to bring Finn into the apartment

“Hi,” Finn says, kneeling down to hug BB

“Hi,” Poe says, and his heart flutters like it did a year ago, when he saw Finn for the very first time

It progresses from there because BB loves Finn, and Poe believes in love at first sight, even if he can’t admit it yet

(He loves Finn too)

Dinners with Luke, Leia, and Finn resume, in addition to meals whenever BB demands that Finn eat with them

(It’s been too long, Dad, BB will say. You and Finn are lonely without each other)

Poe doesn’t know how much he can disagree with his son, partly because BB is largely right, and partly because BB has Poe wrapped around his finger

Even so, it’s nearly a month before Poe asks Finn out properly, with no children or bosses to accompany them

Finn accepts in an instant

Dating Finn is nice- for one, he fits into Poe’s life easily- but he also validates the months Poe spent dreaming of the impossible scenario where he and Finn could finally be together, because dating Finn is better than Poe ever imagined

Finn is funny, more sarcastic than Poe had realized, direct and curious and teasing. Deeply loving and loyal and defensive and stubborn, and also a good kisser, with perpetually warm hands that always find their way into Poe’s grip

That summer is glorious, and none of them- Poe, nor BB, nor Finn- want it to end. It is the beginning of all wonderful things

Poe accepts quickly but with relative uncertainty, that Finn will be Poe’s boyfriend long before he will become one of BB’s caretakers

Finn is good with BB- he speaks ASL and understands his son better than most, and Poe is forever grateful he never had to navigate a wide dating pool as a single father, mostly because he’s certain there’s very, very few people worth bringing home to BB

Even with adjustment periods and the time it takes to figure out how exactly Finn fits into their lives, BB is wildly fond of Finn, who spoils him and makes him laugh

You smile lots when Finn is around BB says one day

Is that good? Poe signs back. Do you like when Finn is around?

Finn makes me happy BB says, and Poe knows that’s all that ever matters

November comes with an with the first snow; BB complains that he misses seeing Finn at school, but he sees Finn every weekend and most weekdays, so he’s satisfied, even if Mr. C is stuffy and old, but nice I guess

They are comfortable together- things are calm, settled into the new school year- and Poe figures he knows what to expect from life with a hyperactive seven year old and a boyfriend he’s hopelessly in love with

What’s unexpected, however, is the call he gets at 3am on a Friday night- or rather, the 6 missed calls, and the one that Poe finally picks up, his heart pounding wildly when he sees Finn’s name on the screen

He hit a pole, Finn explains, because he swerved to avoid hitting a cat

“I’m fine, honestly, Poe, the airbags went off and I was wearing my seatbelt and most of the damage is on the passenger side-”

Finn is fine, he promises, but his car is damaged fairly badly and also Finn rescued the cat, who is also fine, and they have no way to get home

So, Poe wraps BB in a blanket and carries him out to the car, and together they pick up Finn off the street in the dead of night

In five months of dating, it’s the first time Finn spends the night at Poe’s apartment with BB there

Finn sleeps on the couch, next to the makeshift nest of blankets where the kitten finally falls asleep

BB spends his Saturday writing a list of names for the kitten, who is entrusted to his care (and Poe’s) while Finn makes endless calls to a towing company and his insurance, and the bank and the local vet

Finn spends the next night, too, because he doesn’t want to move the cat, who is young and probably scared, and very attached to Poe and BB already

On Sunday, Finn goes to the vet to see if the cat is missing or chipped, and Finn leaves with a purring kitten that belongs only to him

BB is then allowed to name the cat officially; he becomes D-O, much to Finn’s amusment and Poe’s exasperation

(BB doesn’t deign to explain this decision, and Poe cannot bring himself to ask BB why this name was chosen more than ten times)

By then, they’ve also agreed that Finn will stay with BB and Poe until Finn’s car is fixed, so Poe can drive Finn to work, and so that D-O can stay with BB a little longer

Finn sleeps on the couch Sunday night, but BB sneaks out of bed to cuddle with the cat, and Poe finds them Monday morning, BB curled in Finn’s arms, D-O snuggled at their feet

Poe takes a picture before rousing them for school, and the picture is first the background on his phone, then printed and framed on the wall of their first home together

A smaller copy is slipped into his wallet, too, so that the three of them are with him, always

BB cries at the end of the week, when Finn has his car again, and he and D-O are ready to go home

(By Christmas, Poe has given Finn a key to the apartment, and by Feburary, they’re looking for a place to share together)

When BB turns eight, the three (four) of them move into the apartment that becomes their first home as a family, and it marks another beginning for them all

When BB turns ten, his father gets married, and he with his grandfather walk Poe down the aisle

Poe and BB are a family. This fact was slow and learned, but absolute all the same and Finn, still gradually, but just as certainly, becomes their family too

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quickspinner · 4 years

Text

Killer Combo Ch 7 - The Final Showdown

I sincerely apologize to everyone who prefers short chapters, as this is another really long one. Pace yourselves as necessary, and thank you so much for persevering to the end with me. I'm so grateful for everyone who has read and liked or reblogged or replied, and I hope though the journey is uh, long, you will find it satisfying. You can search *** for the scene breaks if you need to stop and come back.

Kagami, predictably, was not happy when Marinette returned alone, but Juleka’s vindictive smirk when she heard what her brother was doing was enough to convince Kagami to delay any plans of vengeance she might have been making. “I hope he gives that bitch the earful she deserves,” Juleka muttered darkly, and then snorted. “But knowing Luka, he won’t. He’ll be all gentle and patient and she’ll keep arguing for way longer than he should let her before she realizes she might as well be talking to a brick wall.”

“You don’t think,” Marinette began, and then stopped, reaching up to smooth her hair self-consciously, shifting her weight on her feet and feeling like a fool as several pairs of knowing eyes turned her way.

Juleka arched an eyebrow, but her smile was sympathetic. “I definitely don’t think,” she said warmly, reaching out to squeeze Marinette’s shoulder in a move that reminded her strongly of Luka. “Luka’s very perceptive and empathetic. It makes him too gentle sometimes, but he’s no pushover. She might think she has a chance, but he’s been over her for a long time. Even if he hadn’t... met anybody , she wouldn’t get anywhere with him.” She grabbed Marinette’s hand and pulled her towards the dance floor, reaching out her other hand to snag Rose on her way. “Now enough about my stupid brother, we only have like an hour of party left, let’s go have fun.”

Marinette giggled, grabbing Kagami’s arm and pulling her along.

Kagami had offered to let her stay overnight at the mansion, but Marinette had declined in favor of a ride home. She crept into her room as quietly as she could, sent her parents a text to let them know she was home just in case one of them woke up and worried, and went to wash her makeup off and get ready for bed.

Her phone beeped just as she was drying off her face, and she picked it up to find a text from Luka. Just letting you know I made it home. Sorry for leaving so suddenly.

Marinette sighed, and smiled slightly as she answered him. It’s okay, I understand. Did you get everything worked out in the end? She chewed her lip as she sent the message, but she needed to know, and there really wasn’t any good way to ask the question. She finished up with her moisturizer and climbed the stairs up to her bed, wincing at the ache in her feet.

She sat cross-legged on her bed to read his reply. As much as it can be. She’s not happy, but making her happy isn’t my job anymore. She got the message, finally, and that’s all that matters to me.

Before she’d even finished reading that one, another message came in.

I know it’s really late and I’ll understand if you don’t want to, but I’d really like to hear your voice one more time. Is it okay if I call?

Marinette really wanted to hear his voice too. Before she could second-guess herself too much, she hit the call button.

He picked up immediately. “Hey,” he said softly, voice a little rough and tired-sounding but still enough to make her feel warm and remember the soft touch of his lips against hers.

“Hi,” she said shyly, suddenly breathless.

“Marinette,” he sighed, and she had to smile at the way he said her name, like he was relieved and happy and exhausted all at once. “I just wanted to say I am so, so sorry about how everything went down tonight, and also...thank you. I think I got some closure tonight that I really needed, and it was really thanks to you and your friends, and...and I’m just incredibly grateful. And I totally owe you a rain check on the party date because I was having a great time until—” he sighed again. “All that other stuff. Your friends are pretty cool.”

“Yeah,” Marinette smiled, picking at the hem of her pants. “They really are. We’ve had our ups and downs, but the ones that have stuck around, they’re really amazing.” She sighed slightly through her nose, brow furrowing in annoyance. “And I’m really sorry you haven’t had the same experience.”

“Well,” Luka said, and the smile in his voice made her smile too, “I got a taste of it tonight. It’s nice to know friendships like that really exist. I mean, I know they do, I’ve had some...still have some, even if they’re far away, but...okay, I’m rambling and I’m keeping you awake and you’re probably just as tired as I am, but I just, um...I wanted to…” He took a deep breath, and went on a little too quickly, “When I kissed you tonight, I wasn’t, I didn’t do anything right and I was kind of overwhelmed and not thinking clearly, but I want you to know I really—”

“Wait,” Marinette said quickly, her heart suddenly pounding. “Wait. I think...Luka, if it’s okay with you, I think I’d rather talk about this in person. Maybe when we’re both a little clearer headed than we are right now?”

“Yeah,” Luka said slowly. “Yeah, okay, I guess that makes sense. So...when can I see you in person?”

Marinette winced, turning and pulling down her schedule. “I have so much to do this week,” she nearly moaned, fisting a hand in her hair and tugging hard.

“Hey,” he said, and something in his voice made Marinette cringe. “It’s okay.”

“No, I want to, I promise I’m not blowing you off, I really want to talk about this with you, it’s just—of course everything always has to happen at once and…ugh, timing. ” Marinette chewed her lip, scanning across the week, trying to find some time. Surely she could spare him ten minutes somewhere...but was the conversation they needed to have something that she really could rush? What was she even doing, why didn’t she just let him say what he wanted to say, why was she...she was…

Hesitating. Why was she hesitating? Marinette chewed her lip and blew out a frustrated breath, forgetting that Luka was still on the phone. She jumped when he spoke again.

“Marinette,” Luka said, his tone gentle, and she made a distracted noise of acknowledgement. “Listen. Don’t sweat it. I know you have your presentation this week and the tournament, right? If you’re busy and you need some space, that’s fine. Don’t worry about it. We can settle this afterwards. I’m not going anywhere. Well. Not until we talk, at least.”

Marinette’s eyes landed on the weekend, colored in red and outlined in black. “The tournament,” she said softly. “The championship. We could...we could talk there? Maybe after?”

Luka was silent for a moment, and Marinette heard him take a deep breath. “Is that the best time?” he said cautiously. “Do we really want to have that on our minds?”

“You know what,” Marinette said, beginning to smile. “I think it’s the perfect time. It’s where we met, afterall.”

“Well,” Luka said, and she could tell he was smiling too. “There is a certain poetry to that.”

“Okay,” Marinette said, her smile growing into a grin. “After I’m done kicking your ass in the finals, then.”

“Oh, brave words from the lady with the forty percent win rate against me,” he laughed, and Marinette made a face.

“You’ve been spending too much time with Max,” she accused.

“Max is a fun guy,” Luka chuckled. “Not as much fun as you, but you know, he has his moments.”

Why was she so pleased at that, that he preferred her company over Max, ugh she was pathetic. She covered a giggle anyway, but it turned into a yawn.

“I’ll let you go to sleep,” Luka said, amusement clear in his voice. “Good luck this week, Marinette, and I’ll see you this weekend and...we’ll talk.”

“Yes,” Marinette nodded decisively, though he couldn’t see her. “We will.”

***

Two days later and elbow deep in unfinished clothes that were supposed to be runway ready in less than twenty-four hours, Marinette was actually feeling good about her decision to defer her talk with Luka.

Not everyone agreed, however.

“ Girl ,” Alya screeched from Marinette’s floor, where she was hammering rivets into a jacket. Max winced from where he was sitting at Marinette’s desk, pliers in his hand and a spool of jewelry wire next to him. “Why did you do that?”

Marinette sighed, and bit her lip. “Because—”

“Because what? ” Alya demanded.

“Because I need to be the one to say it,” Marinette sighed, as she rearranged the fabric on her sewing machine. “It’s just...it’s something I need to do, Alya. I don’t expect you to understand.”

“Oh I understand,” Alya sighed. “I just think it’s silly. You could be making out right now if you’d just let him say his piece.”

“First of all,” Marinette grumbled. “You don’t know that, you’re making assumptions. He could have been about to say he really values my friendship and he doesn’t want anything to change. Second, I have way too much to do this week. I wouldn’t have time for making out even if I did have a hot new boyfriend to do it with. Third, I just...I told you, I need to do it. I need to know that I can put myself out there and tell a boy I like him and not just...let it happen to me.”

“You must have done that lots of times, Marinette, what about all those guys you made out with that last year of high school?”

Marinette rolled her eyes, glancing at Max with a blush, though he was studiously ignoring the conversation, focused on the task in front of him. “It’s not even close to being the same thing.” She felt a little ashamed, actually, of the way she’d used some of those guys, even though they were usually more than happy to be used and she’d never been dishonest with any of them. “This isn’t about just kissing and proving to myself that someone can like me and be attracted to me. It’s not just as simple as asking a cute guy to a party, I just…” She sighed. “It’s the first time I’ve really felt like this since then, with all the butterflies and the fear and the...the…”

“Passion?” suggested Alya smugly, and Marinette rolled her eyes again.

“Whatever. The point is, I just need to be the one to say it, and I want to do it face to face.”

“Well, maybe you’re right and I don’t really get it,” Alya sighed. “It sounds like he’s pretty into you, so it seems like you’re splitting unnecessary hairs. But I guess you do what you have to do, girl.”

“I will,” Marinette said firmly, “And what I need to do now is get these garments finished for my presentation so I can put that to bed and focus on beating my gorgeous potential boyfriend this weekend before I confess my—”

“Yeeees?” Alya teased.

“Feelings,” Marinette finished with a flush. “Look, can we be done talking about this now?”

“Fine,” Alya rolled her eyes and put the hammer down, stretching her fingers. “I’m going to go grab some water, do you guys want some?”

“Yes, please,” Marinette and Max chorused together, and Alya stood up. Before heading to the trap door, she crossed the room to look over Max’s shoulder at the wire he was twisting to match the sketch Marinette had given him.

“Wow, Max, you’re surprisingly good at that,” Alya commented, and Max gave her a look over his glasses.

“I know my way around wires and a pair of pliers, thank you very much,” Max sniffed. “It’s not that different from wiring a circuit board.”

“Well, the next time you need help with something like that, count me in,” Marinette said, frowning as she tried to untangle the mess her bobbin had mysteriously become. “I owe you guys sooooo much for this.”

“I will give your offer due consideration when the time inevitably comes,” Max replied. “Incidentally, do you happen to have another ticket to the show? I seem to have misplaced mine.”

“Max, really?” Alya sighed, heading towards the trap door. “You’re going to ask her that now? Have you checked under your piles of nerd crap?”

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” Marinette said, reaching over to grab a decorated box on her desk and rummage through it. “Here you go, Max. Kagami can’t make it so I had one more than I needed anyway.”

“Thank you, Marinette,” Max said, with a grin that would have made her look twice if she hadn’t been so preoccupied.

As it was she barely noticed it, and forgot it entirely until much later, when her presentation was over and the high of achievement and the exhilaration of her first really professional fashion show were finally wearing off and she was about to fall into bed for the night. As she fumbled to plug her phone into the charger, she noticed a text on the screen and paused.

It was from Luka.

You were fantastic up there. Sorry I couldn’t stay long enough to see you after. Congratulations, all the hard work paid off.

Marinette gaped at the phone for a moment. You were there? she texted back, and then berated herself for not checking the time first. He was probably asleep, he must have sent that text hours ago.

Even as she thought it, her phone pinged with a response.

Yeah, I hope that was okay. Tell Max thanks for the ticket. ;)

Marinette gaped again, and then pouted for a moment before hitting the call button.

Luka picked up right away. “Surprise,” he said, laughter in his warm voice.

“Max is a sneak,” Marinette pouted, though she was trying not to smile. “And I’m going to kill him.”

“Max is a sneak,” Luka agreed. “But don’t be mad. I ran into him the other day and asked how you were, and we got to talking, and I let it slip that I really wished I could be there, and he gave me his ticket on the spot. Made me promise not to tell you until after, though. I would’ve stayed to say congrats but I had a gig I had to get to, and...well I didn’t want to make things weird.”

“I’m glad you were there,” Marinette smiled, and then added shyly, “You really think I did well?”

“You did amazing,” he said sincerely, and Marinette felt a thrill that made her wiggle a little in place. “I know a thing or two about stage presence, and you’ve definitely got it. I’m really glad I got to see you present. And...well I can’t claim to know much about fashion, but I really liked what you did.”

A hot flush raced up her face and she slapped a hand over it even though he couldn’t see her.

“Marinette? You okay?”

Marinette made an affirmative noise. “Sorry. I just...that makes me really happy. That you think so. That you liked it. I—” She made a high pitched whine. “I’m not making any sense.”

“It’s late and you’re tired,” Luka chuckled. “It’s fine. I don’t want to keep you up any longer, I just wanted to let you know I was there. Juleka said it was creepy to show up without telling you.”

Marinette giggled. “Well, she maybe has a point. I would have gotten tickets for you and Juleka both if you had asked.”

“Sorry,” Luka sighed, and she heard a thump that she thought might be his head hitting a table. “I promise, I didn’t mean anything by it, I just...I knew it was important to you and…I know you needed space and I didn’t want to confuse anything and—” He cut off with a strangled noise and sighed. “Okay, I’m going to tell you good night now and hang up before I dig myself any deeper.”

Marinette had to bite her lip to stop her giggling, “You don’t have to be sorry. I’m really glad you were there, Luka. Really. That...it was important to me, and it’s an important part of me, and I didn’t think about it before but...I’m really glad I got to show you that. Seeing you play on stage, I felt like I really got to see an important side of you that I didn’t know anything about, so...I hope maybe tonight was like that for you.” She bit her tongue, feeling like she wasn’t explaining herself well.

“It was,” Luka said, his voice softening a little in a way that made her shiver. “It really was, and…” He paused, and cleared his throat. “Well. I know you’ve been working hard and I don’t want to keep you up any later. I just wanted to tell you I thought you did great tonight and I’m super impressed, as always. Get some sleep, okay?”

“Sleep,” Marinette repeated, hand still over her face. “Sleep would be good. Maybe for like a week.”

“You’ve really been running hard, huh,” Luka said sympathetically. “Once all this is over, we’ll take some time and just hang out and relax. I’ll play for you.”

“Really?” Marinette perked up.

“Yeah,” Luka chuckled. “Just like that day on the boat.”

“That was nice,” Marinette smiled, finally letting her hand slide down off her face.

“Mm. It really was.”

There was a long pause.

“I should—” she began, just as he said, “You should—” and they both laughed.

“Good night, Marinette,” Luka said at last. “Rest well.”

“Good night, Luka,” Marinette murmured. “See you soon.”

“Soon,” he repeated, and hung up.

A few minutes later her phone beeped with one final text.

Can’t wait to see you this weekend.

Marinette sent back a single pink heart and fell back giggling onto her bed, kicking her feet for a second in a brief burst of energy before she crawled under the covers and fell asleep with a grin on her face.

When Max showed up for practice the next day, she punched him in the arm, and then threw her arms around his neck. “You’re a great friend,” she mumbled into his shoulder. “And I hate you.”

Max just chuckled and patted her back.

***

The morning of the UMSIII Master League Championship, Marinette was a fluttering, nervous wreck. That wasn’t totally unexpected, and her parents put up cheerfully with her clumsiness, absentmindedness, and confusion, giving her gentle encouragement and moving the breakables quietly out of her path. Finally they kissed her goodbye, handed her the bag she’d been about to forget, and promised that they would be in the stands with the rest of her friends.

She leaned her head on the cool metal rail of the subway and tried to breathe. There was a lot on the line today. Marinette was fairly confident she could place, but...she wanted to win. There was a steep drop in the prize value between first and second place and an even sharper drop between second and third. She wanted to do well, yes, but really she wanted to win.

Luka wanted to win too, and that made her stomach twist. She hadn’t seen him in person since the night of the party. Other than their brief conversations, Marinette had been trying not to think too hard about him, to focus on the competition in her practice sessions with Max, but she wasn’t entirely successful. A lot of things had fallen into place for her since she’d seen him on stage. Now she understood how he played to the crowd in his interviews, the way he could project his voice in a crowd, the calm, easy going demeanor he kept up even in the heat of competition. He was used to pressure, he was used to crowds, he was a trained vocalist, and he enjoyed having an audience. Marinette felt like she had a much better picture of him in her mind now, a better understanding of who he was, and everything she knew just made her want to know more.

She was determined to tell him so.

But first she had to get through the tournament. And some small, ugly little part of her was afraid. Would he still want to talk to her if she beat him?

Of course he would. It was ridiculous to think otherwise. It was just a game, after all.

A game with both their dreams on the line.

She almost missed her metro stop.

Marinette swallowed hard as she walked up to the huge stadium and showed her player pass to the guard. She was on her own for the moment; the individual finals would be held in the afternoon and the team competition in the evening, so Max couldn’t come with her. Marinette was the only player in the finals for both the individual and the team championship. Well, and Luka. Technically he was still part of the team, even if he wouldn’t play.

She was escorted to a small lounge area where other players had already begun to congregate. She scanned the room but didn’t see Luka. Marinette wandered back and forth aimlessly, growing more and more restless the longer they were stuck waiting, her thoughts growing scattered and fragmented and her hands starting to shake slightly. She wished she’d brought her sketchbook, or some knitting. Something, anything, to vent her energy on and focus her mind.

A touch on her shoulder made her jump and she whirled around to find Luka behind her, looking surprised and then apologetic, shoulders hunching slightly. “Sorry. I called your name, but…” He shrugged and held out a bottle of water, a slow smile spreading over his face. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Marinette smiled shyly back. “Sorry, I guess I was zoned out.” She took the bottle and twisted off the cap. “Too much energy and nowhere to spend it.” She took a sip, peeking at him around the bottle. He wasn’t wearing his Viperion hoodie, but his old one, with her red stitching at the seams. She focused on the logo on his chest as she lowered the bottle. “New shirt?”

“Yeah,” Luka rolled his eyes. “The league sent it to me. Apparently they don’t want their vintage branding on the livestream tonight, so they asked me to wear the new logo.”

Marinette huffed a quiet laugh. “Naturally.” She wrinkled her nose slightly. “The old one was better.”

“Right?” Luka groaned. “I almost wore it anyway, but…” He shrugged. “Wasn’t worth the fight, to be honest.”

Marinette started to ask why he hadn’t worn his Viperion hoodie, but changed her mind, not sure that she wanted to know the answer. Instead she blurted, “You look good,” and promptly wanted to kick herself. He did look good; the new shirt fit him better than the old one, his hair was styled more deliberately than usual and the color in it looked recently touched up, bright and vibrant. He was freshly shaved and, she was pretty sure, wearing a touch of makeup, probably to keep from looking washed out under the lights. Of course he would consider those things. Was that peach lipstick? It was a good color on him.

Oh God she was staring.

“You do too,” Luka smiled, reaching up to brush her pigtail back behind her shoulder. suddenly he winced and jerked his hand back quickly. “Sorry, I shouldn’t—sorry if I’m—”

“It’s okay,” Marinette said, catching the hand he was pulling back. “Really, Luka, I don’t mind. I know it’s how you connect. I know you won’t do anything inappropriate, and I don’t mind the rest, so just don’t worry about it.”

Luka relaxed, and she squeezed his hand before letting go of it. “Thanks,” he said, reaching up to run a hand through his hair and stopping just in time. He tilted his head slightly, looking at Marinette, who found herself beginning to fidget again. “Are you okay?”

Marinette smiled, but her face felt like wood. “I’m fine. It’s fine.”

Luka raised his eyebrows slightly, and Marinette noticed absently that he was wearing eyeliner. “You don’t look fine,” he observed, and nudged the hand holding the water bottle. “Drink. It’s going to be crazy once things get going. Better to start hydrating now.”

Marinette drank, more because she didn’t feel like arguing than from actually believing she needed it. “How can you be so calm?” she asked with a gusty sigh after she lowered the bottle.

Luka shrugged and flashed a grin. “Don’t forget I’ve done this before. Helps that I was practically raised on stage, so the lights, the effects, none of that really bothers me.” He put a hand on her shoulder and massaged gently. “I’m honestly a little surprised to see you so tense. I didn’t think anything would rattle you after seeing you up on stage before. You owned it and you didn’t look nervous at all.”

“That was fashion,” Marinette hissed, glancing at the other competitors. “And I was busy. I didn’t have time to freak out. Not like this, with all the...the waiting. ” She tugged at her pigtails and resisted the urge to whine. “I just want to get started already! Just—all this—” she flapped her hands, trying to indicate the pent-up energy inside her. “There’s nowhere for it to go.”

“Ah.” Luka glanced away, and then looked at her again. “I don’t know if it would help, but...want to meditate with me? I always try to meditate for at least a few minutes before I have to go on stage. Or into a competition.”

Marinette blinked at him, for a moment and he shrugged. “But if you don’t want to, it’s fine, I know it’s a little weird, to think about sitting still when you’re so worked up—”

“No, I—that sounds good.” Marinette glanced around. “But where—”

Luka tipped his head to indicate a direction and Marinette followed him to a corner of the lounge where there was an old, battered, but currently empty sofa. He sat down and Marinette sat next to him. She glanced around a little self-consciously but most of the competitors were focused on their own pre-game rituals. The nervous chatterers were congregated together, fidgeting back and forth as they all talked over each other. Several others had headphones and closed eyes, a couple were pacing, and the only other female competitor in the room was staring at the ground, mumbling with her eyes closed and her weight shifting from foot to foot. No one was paying the two of them any mind at all.

“Everybody’s too worried about their own game to care what we do,” Luka murmured, slipping a guitar pick out of his pocket and rotating it in his fingers. “Don’t worry about them, just focus on you.” He held the pick between his thumb and forefinger and breathed in slowly, and then out, closing his eyes.

Marinette watched him for a moment, then placed one hand over the other in her lap, palms up, and did the same. It took some effort to keep from fidgeting, to force the circumstances from her mind and bring her scattered focus to her breathing and the flow of her energy, but Luka’s calm presence and the slow, regular swell of his ribs moving his arm against hers, helped her settle her mind.

As she breathed, the nervous flutters ebbed. She felt more solidly in her skin than she had all day. The tension was still there, but it was more focused now, less chaotic. She felt worlds better...but a little guilty.

“You shouldn’t be helping me so much,” Marinette murmured, her eyes still closed.

Luka’s shoulder vibrated against hers as he chuckled. “Have you looked at the brackets? Clearly the marketing geniuses have been at work because we don’t face each other until the finals. I want you to be there, not flame out from nerves in your first matchup.” After a moment he added quietly, “And you’re my friend. I can’t see you unhappy and not help. You’ve done a lot for me too, you know.”

Marinette unfolded her hands and fumbled blindly beside her. She found his forearm and slid her hand down to slip her fingers through his and squeezed.

“I’m really glad I met you, Luka,” she whispered. “Whatever happens today, I hope we can...” She hesitated, not wanting to say stay friends, because that wasn’t what she wanted. She opened one eye and peeked at him, and saw his eyes open as well as he smiled at her. His thumb caressed the back of her hand lightly.

“I hear you,” he said softly, and the drop in his voice made her insides quiver pleasantly. She was suddenly extremely aware of the rough skin of his hand enveloping hers, the warmth of where their shoulders pressed together. “I’m glad we met too. I want you to be in my life, no matter what happens today.”

Marinette had to press her lips together to contain her smile. “Yeah...me too.”

Luka glanced at the other players and gently extracted his hand. He took Marinette’s wrist and put her hand back on her own knee before curling his fingers back together and closing his eyes. Marinette understood, folding her hands back together and deepening her breathing again. It wouldn’t do for them to be cuddling too obviously in front of everyone else. There would already be talk, she was sure, if Ladybug and Viperion began dating after the tournament was over, no matter who won.

But before she could think of that, she had to win.

And before she could even think about beating Luka, she had other competitors to worry about. He was right. She needed to focus and not let the situation get the better of her.

She stayed there, meditating alongside Luka, until the handlers came to get the players and walk them through their entrances and the procedures between matches. The sight of the jumbotron overhead and the giant stadium full of currently empty but soon-to-be-packed seats made Marinette’s nerves flare up again. Luka’s hand squeezed her shoulder, bringing her focus back to the moment.

“Hey,” he murmured when she looked up at him. “It’s just another match. The livestream’s just a little more up close and personal than we’re used to.” He grinned at her. “They’re all coming to see Ladybug and Viperion face off.”

Marinette grinned back, and then brought her attention back to the handler explaining the procedure and reiterating the rules.The quarter finals and semifinals would be best two out of three, and the finals best three out of five. Matches would be held simultaneously using the pyrapods set up at ground level, and at the back, an elevated stage contained two pyrapods that would be used for the finals.

None of this was news and Marinette was back to shifting from foot-to-foot impatiently, checking the time. Luka seemed as calm and relaxed as ever, but she could see the tightness beginning around his eyes and knew he was ready to get started too.

Finally they were dumped back in the lounge, and Marinette went to the restroom. She’d done the rest of her routine at home, but she wanted her makeup mask fresh and bright. The ritual of putting it on, dusting the red mask across her eyes and drawing in her spots, calmed some of her resurging nerves, and when she straightened up from the mirror, Ladybug looked back at her.

Ladybug was not going to lose because of stage fright.

Marinette reached back into her makeup bag and hesitated as her hand found her tube of black lipstick. She bit her lip and looked at her reflection again. The championship seemed like a bad time to be making changes, but…

Marinette swapped the black lipstick for red and painted her lips with quick, decisive movements, and then snapped the cap back on with a quiet click. She made sure her pigtails were still tight and secure, tapped her lucky earrings three times, and then zipped up her bag and went back to the lounge, already feeling more confident and ready to compete.

Luka caught her eye immediately when she stepped back inside, and she saw him grin at the change, but then the competitors were being herded out of the lounge and into the tunnel they would take into the arena.

In the chaos, she felt Luka’s hand wrap around hers and squeeze, and quickly let go. The competitors milled around in the tunnel aimlessly, well back from the fog machine spewing smoke near the entrance, until two production assistants dressed in black brusquely took charge and lined them up in a supposedly randomly generated but very important order, warning them to not, under any circumstances, shuffle the order or cross the line before their names were called or move from their place in line. Marinette found herself in the middle of the line, with Luka right beside her. “Random, huh,” Luka chuckled. “Yeah, right.”

“They’re really hyping us up,” Marinette agreed.

“Guess we better not let them down.” Luka and Marinette exchanged a look, and then a fistbump. “See you in the finals, Ladybug,” he grinned.

“I’ll be there,” she grinned back. “You better not stand me up, Viperion.”

“Never.”

“Oh my God, get a room,” muttered the guy on Marinette’s other side. “You two are disgusting.”

Marinette flushed, but Luka just chuckled again. “Aww, Pharaoh, you know I love beating you too, it’s just not in the cards today, man.”

Pharaoh scowled over Marinette’s head at him. “Kiss my ass, snake boy.”

“Oh, when Ladybug here’s done kicking it you’re gonna need somebody to,” Luka said, winking at Marinette. “‘Fraid I’ll be busy, though. Tagger can do it for me, he’ll be free.”

“I hate you so much,” Tagger, Luka’s first round opponent, grumbled from down the line. “Fucking cocky bastard.”

Marinette giggled, and Luka nudged her shoulder playfully with his. She looked up into his face and she could see the thrill of competition beginning to get to him, in his pirate grin and the sparkle in his eyes, and the challenge there sparked Marinette’s own competitive spirit.

“He’s not wrong,” she said, arching an eyebrow. “I thought the very same thing to myself during our first match.” Luka feigned being struck in the heart.

“Betrayal!” he laughed. “I’m not cocky, I’m right. It’s not boasting if you can back it up.”

“You can back it up all the way to second place.” Marinette poked him in the chest and he grabbed her hand, leaning down over her with a grin.

“Don’t make me break out Max’s win percentages again.”

“The numbers can’t help you now,” Marinette shot back, pulling her hand free. She stepped up close to him and looked up into his face, shoulders back and hands on her hips. “We’re starting with a clean slate today and all that matters is here and now. I hope you enjoyed winning all those matches, Viperion, because it’s only going to make it sweeter when I finally take you down.”

Luka bit his lip, and Marinette quirked her eyebrow a little higher, and then Pharaoh coughed, making them both jump. “We’re still here, you know,” he said sardonically as Marinette and Luka turned away from each other, Luka clearly fighting a grin, pink coloring the high points of his cheeks, and Marinette turning a brilliant red that she could only hope would fade before she was announced.

Mercifully the announcer began calling names, distracting everyone as a murmur of excitement went down the line.

Suddenly there was no one in front of Marinette and her heart began to pound.

“Ladybug!” the announcer roared, and the crowd erupted into a deafening roar that startled her. Marinette wasn’t given time to hesitate, though; the production assistant planted a hand in the middle of her back and shoved her forward into the fog. For a moment she was blind and confused, but then she stumbled out of the fog and into the bright lights of the stadium. Marinette quickly pasted on a wide smile and raised her arms to wave with both hands to the crowd, though her knees felt like jelly at the sight of so many people and her own promo picture on the jumbotron, smirking at the camera in full makeup and a challenging posture.

Somehow she made it across the field to her mark next to Pharaoh, and then the announcer was calling Viperion, and she turned her head, clapping automatically as Luka emerged from the fog and waved, looking completely at ease with his usual relaxed smile as he sauntered over to stand next to her. Part of the stadium started up a chant for him and he waved again, ducking his head slightly. Suddenly a competing chant of Ladybug! Ladybug! came up and Luka nudged her with a grin. She raised a slightly shaky hand to wave back, and then Luka made a settle down gesture with his hands. Marinette copied him and the chants died down so the announcer could call the next player.

Marinette curled her fingers together, willing herself not to take Luka’s hand or grab onto his sleeve. Beside her, Luka folded his arms, and she wondered if he was fighting the same urge to touch her. He glanced at her and then quickly away, and her cheeks warmed, and she quickly aimed her suddenly much more sincere smile at the crowd, waving again.

“You’ve got this, Ladybug,” Viperion leaned down to whisper when the announcer dismissed them to their pods. “I’ll be cheering for you.”

“Worry about yourself,” Ladybug grinned and winked. “Like you said, I’ve got this.”

Viperion grinned and shook his head as they separated.

Marinette was still nervous but smiling as she stepped into her pod and picked up her headset. “Viperion’s going to be so disappointed when I beat you,” Pharaoh said as soon as the channel was active. “Poor little Ladybug’s about to get squashed.”

Marinette snorted. “I hope your game is more interesting than your trash talk,” she snickered. “If that’s as creative as you can get this is going to be really boring.” Pharaoh spluttered and Marinette grinned as the countdown began to blink. The controller in her hands felt like a part of her by now, and she bounced on her toes a little, eager for things to finally begin.

It wasn’t easy; crappy trash talk aside, Pharaoh was a highly ranked player and skilled enough to be a challenge. It was a perfect first match for her, actually, because she had to think to beat him and once her mind was focused and fully immersed in the game, she overcame the few mistakes she’d made early on. She was grinning broadly as she stepped out of the pod and raised her arms to acknowledge the cheers that followed when the announcer boomed out her name as the winner. Even as she did, though, she was looking for the leaderboard on the giant screen above them. At first she saw only her own flushed and happy face, but then the leaderboard reappeared, Viperion’s name blinking and then advancing to the next level.

“Yes!” Marinette squealed, jumping up and down in place. She whipped her head towards Luka’s pod and watched him emerge. He looked up immediately just as she had, and punched the air and looked back at her with a broad grin. They both stood and watched as one by one the other players turned red or blinked green and advanced.

Like Kagami’s party, like her presentation and fashion show, everything seemed to go by in a whirl and a blur. Months of preparation and planning and practice and the slow-motion waiting of the morning gave way to a heart-pounding, adrenaline-pumping whirl as she faced down match after match, dominating some and barely squeaking by others. Before she knew it, she was staring up at the jumbotron while the crowd screamed and the announcer cried, “And this is what we’ve all been waiting for, this is what we all came here to see! The final matchup in the Master League Championship will be! Ladybug! Versus! Viperioooooooon!”

Marinette raised her arms and waved with both hands again as the crowd cheered then she was being ushered off the field, back into the tunnel and then to the backstage area to wait while the runners up duked it out for third and fourth place and the crew made sure everything was set up for the final.

Marinette stared up at the steps to the stage and felt herself start to shake. She didn’t even notice Luka speaking at her side until he took her arm and turned her to face him.

“Marinette, are you okay?” he asked, the grin quickly dropping from his face as he looked at her.

“Yeah,” she said, trying to smile. “I’m f-fine.”

“You’re pale as a ghost.” Luka’s expression was grave and worried and he pulled her over to a chair and pushed her into it. “Sit. Breathe, Marinette. Are you dizzy?”

“I’m fine,” Marinette said, trying to take his advice and slow her breathing. “I’m okay. I just...I need a second.”

She felt Luka move away, but he was back in moments, kneeling in front of her to press a bottle of water into her hand. “Drink,” he ordered, helping her sit up. “Look at me.” He put his fingers under her chin and gently tipped it up so he could look into her eyes. “You’re sure you’re okay? Do you need the medic?”

“No,” Marinette said, taking a deep breath before lifting the water to her trembling lips. “I’m all right, Luka.” She drank and then sighed. “That was just really intense.” She shot a sardonic smile up at him. “It felt really good though.”

Luka grinned as he took her hand between both of his and rubbed it gently. “It’s a rush, no doubt.”

Marinette took another drink and mumbled weakly, “Gonna be even better when I beat you.”

Luka laughed softly and leaned forward, resting his forehead on hers. Something about that touch was very comforting and she leaned into it. “I’m gonna give you a fight, I hope you know that,” Luka told her. “I’m not going to just hand it to you because you’re—” He paused, and Marinette back to look at him. He brought a hand up to cup her cheek, and Marinette wasn’t sure what might have happened if the production assistants hadn’t come looking for them just then. Luka stood up quickly, turning away from her for a moment, and Marinette put a hand over her chest, feeling the frantic flutter of her heart against her palm.

“Head in the game, Ladybug,” Marinette murmured to herself before she shoved up out of her chair, shaking out her limbs and noting that at least her hands weren’t trembling anymore.

It was time. The handlers lined them up shoulder to shoulder, in front of a fog-covered arch similar to the one on the field.

Luka caught her hand and Marinette let him lace their fingers together. His hold was tighter than she expected and she glanced up at him. That competition spark was in his eyes and she could see the tension across his shoulders. He really was pumped up for this.

He let go of her hand before they walked out together through the fog, waving at the cheering. The lights were hotter and brighter on the stage and Marinette’s nerves increased. She turned to shake hands with Luka and met his eyes, feeling like she was standing outside of her body, but simultaneously hyper aware of his touch and the blue of his eyes and the quirk of his smile before his hand slid away and they each turned to get into their pyrapods.

Marinette came back to herself a bit when the pod slid closed behind her, shutting out the lights and the noise. She became aware of how fast she was breathing and made an effort to slow it down before she picked up her headset and put it on.

“Hanging in there, Bug?” Luka asked, and though his voice was teasing she knew he was checking on her.

“You wanted it,” she replied, “I’m gonna bring it.”

“Show me what you got, Ladybug,” he chuckled, and Marinette grinned, pleased that he remembered after all this time. “I can take it.”

The countdown flashed on the screen, and Marinette took one last deep breath. “It’s been a long time since that first match,” Marinette pointed out with a smile. “I’m not the same newbie you played back then.”

“I know,” he said, and she could see his pirate grin in her mind (and she was kind of glad she couldn’t see it projected on the big screen outside; at that magnitude it might actually kill her). “I can’t wait.”

Once they started playing, there was no time to think about anything but the game.

Luka won the first match, and Marinette couldn’t help her sigh, annoyed with herself. She’d been nervous and jumpy in the beginning and it had cost her. She and Luka were so evenly matched at this point that both knew they couldn’t give an inch or make a single mistake. She was going to have to do better.

“It’s just the first match,” she heard Luka say over her headset, and she wasn’t sure if it was meant to comfort her or steady him.

“I never thought it would be easy,” Marinette replied, and then smiled. “So let’s give the people the show they came for.”

“You know it,” he laughed.

The next match was closer but Luka won that one too, and Marinette bit her lip hard, fighting the churning feeling in her stomach. If she lost the next one, that was it; she couldn’t afford to lose any more.

Luka groaned as the third match ended. “Man, how do you do that. I was sure I had you there.”

“I’m full of surprises,” Marinette replied, putting down the controller and shaking out her hands. They trembled slightly from the close call; he really had almost had her, and that would have been the end.

“You really are,” Luka chuckled. “Playing you is never boring, that’s for sure. Okay, just one more match to go.”

“Oh, don’t count your trophies before they’re in the case,” Marinette muttered, narrowing her eyes though a smile tugged at her mouth. “No way I’m letting you take it that easily.”

“We’ll see,” Luka said, and then the countdown started again.

The fourth match turned out to be an easy win for Marinette; Luka misjudged his timing early on and Marinette gave him no time to recover.

Marinette had to take a few more deep breaths as they prepared for the fifth and final match. Her stomach felt like jelly but her hands were steady. One more. She just had to beat him one more time. Either way, all of this would be over soon. She wasn’t sure how to feel about that so she pushed it aside, needing all her focus for the game.

It was close, it was so close. Both of them had just a sliver of health left and Marinette was starting to panic. She’d managed to deflect his first venom strike, but the fight had gone on long enough that the ability had recharged and she hadn’t been able to dodge a second time. He didn’t even have to land another attack; if he held her off long enough, he would win with the recurring damage from the venom strike. She needed to take him out, but he kept interrupting her attacks, taking low level damage from her defensive moves to prevent her from getting a combo attack together. He was gambling that he could hold out until the venom strike wiped out the last of her health bar, and it was a bet he was going to win if Marinette couldn’t get off a decent attack.

She bit her lip and tried to think. His armor has always been his weak point; she just needed to get one killer combo off and he’d be finished. Luka knew it, too. If he failed to interrupt her even once she’d take him out. Every time he attacked her directly, though, he took damage from her shields and counterattack. He could keep gambling on his health to hold out until the venom strike, or if he timed it just right, he could get his stun attack off and freeze her. If he could get the move off, she’d be held just long enough for the venom strike to finish her.

But he couldn’t interrupt her attacks while he was charging the ability. If he tried it, and she was fast enough...she’d have to be so fast. It would have to be bug bombs, they were the fastest, and they should be enough. She’d have to be ready and watching, and...

Will he still want to be with me if I beat him? Or will I just be another girl that ruined his dreams?

The thought was both terrifying and unwelcome but even as it hit her, she saw Viperion draw back and begin to charge a glowing ball between his hands. Marinette had no time to deliberate, no time for hesitation. Her fingers moved and her mech exploded into action. She executed the attack and dropped the controller, grabbing her hair with her hands as she watched.

The stun left Viperion’s hands—and her bug bombs landed. Even as her mech froze in place, Viperion went down in a series of dramatic explosions.

The screen flashed GAME OVER. It flashed up a picture of her mech with the word WINNER over and over.

“Holy sh—,” she heard Luka whisper, but the channel cut off.

She won.

Numbly she reached up and took off her headset as the pod door slid open behind her.

She stepped out shakily, looking up uncomprehendingly at the crowd.

Across from her, Luka’s pod door was sliding open. The second there was room, Luka exploded out, leaping out with one of his deafening whoops as he caught her up in a bearhug that nearly took the breath from her. He swung her around.

“That was amazing,” he shouted, nearly in her ear to be heard over the crowd. “I thought there was no way you could get an attack off fast enough, but you knew—you knew I was going to do it, didn’t you, you were ready, you’re so incredible—”

“Luka,” Marinette gasped, and laughing, Luka set her down on her feet.

Before Marinette could do more than gasp in a breath, he had ducked down and—well she wasn’t sure exactly what he did, but suddenly she shrieked as he ducked his head under her leg and somehow managed to lift her onto his shoulders despite her flailing. He caught her hands and steadied her, and then let go of one hand to pump his fist in the air and cheer for her. Marinette kept a death grip on his other hand but she managed to smile and reach up to wave at the crowd, letting out a breathless laugh once the shock wore off. The crowd was cheering and her face was on the jumbotron, smiling but still looking more stunned than victorious. Luka turned in a slow circle so she could wave at the whole crowd until her arm was sore.

It took her a minute to realize the announcer was trying to get her attention. “Ladybug, you are the Ultimate Mecha Strike III regional champion! Congratulations! How do you feel right now?” A slightly hysterical giggle escaped her at the way he had to hold the microphone up above his head to catch her answer.

“I feel amazing, but my day isn't over yet,” she laughed.

“That’s right, we’ll see you as part of Team Lucky Charm in the team competition later tonight! We’ll be looking forward to that. Viperion, you and Ladybug have had quite the rivalry going on and you were heavily the favorite to win coming into this event. How do you feel about taking second place tonight?”

“I can’t be sore about a loss like that,” Luka laughed. “Of course I wanted to win, but—” He shook her head. “You can’t deny that was brilliant.” He patted Marinette’s leg on his shoulder. “Congratulations, Ladybug. The best player definitely won today.”

“All right, look for more exclusive interview content with Ladybug and Viperion on the blog later tonight,” the announcer said into the microphone, looking up into the crowd. “We’re going to take a short recess to get things ready here and then we’ll be back to bring you the Master League team championship. “Congratulations again, Ladybug and Viperion.”

He gestured them back towards the arch, and Luka carried Marinette back through it, both of them waving at the crowd as they went.

Marinette’s legs felt like jelly as she scrambled down from Luka’s shoulders, and he held her elbows as she swayed slightly, and when she was steady he hugged her tight. “Congratulations.”

“You’re not mad?” she asked softly, looking up at him through her lashes.

Luka curled a finger under her chin and tipped her face up so that she was looking at him more directly. “I’m not mad,” he promised, and the soft smile he gave her and the gentle look in his eyes made her believe him. “I’ll be disappointed, probably, tomorrow. I’ll have to scale back my plans. But that’s okay. I took a chance and it didn’t work out in my favor. You played your best. No regrets here. I’m so happy for you, too, and impressed, and…” he paused, and took a deep breath. “I’m definitely not mad.” His hand moved up to cup her cheek, and his thumb brushed over her face for a moment.

“Viperion, Ladybug! Press room, let’s go.”

“Oh,” Marinette gasped, but Luka just chuckled and put a hand on her arm. She went with him a little numbly until they were separated for the post-game interviews. Marinette wasn’t sure anything she said was coherent, but she had enough presence of mind to work in a mention of the bakery and her fashion business, so hopefully it wasn’t a total loss.

“I’m sure you did great,” Luka told her as they walked out.

“I hope so,” Marinette sighed, putting a hand against her forehead and flapping her hoodie to get some air under it. “But it’s over now, so no point in worrying about it.”

“Yeah,” Luka smiled, and then nudged her shoulder with his arm. “I guess you better go. You’re not done yet, remember?”

“Yeah,” Marinette nodded, turning to face her. “But...you’re going to stay, right?”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Luka grinned. “I’ll be cheering you on, no fear. And...I’ll be here after. Assuming you still want to talk?”

“I do,” Marinette said quickly, blushing.

“Okay then. You go get ready and find Max, and I’ll see you soon, okay?”

“Okay,” Marinette whispered, and rose on her toes to quickly kiss his cheek before following a production assistant with a clipboard back to the player lounge.

Max nearly knocked her over in his enthusiasm as soon as she walked in, and she clung to the back of his hoodie, laughing incredulously. “I still can’t believe it,” she whispered.

“I believe the evidence is irrefutable,” Max pointed out, and Marinette rolled her eyes, pushing him away.

“You changed your lipstick,” Max observed as she looked up at him, and Marinette’s fingers flew to her mouth.

“Oh, I forgot. I can—I can go change it back, if you’re afraid it’ll jinx us—” She knew how Max would react as soon as she said the words and pouted while he snorted with laughter.

“I appreciate the thought, but I don’t think the color of your lipstick will be the deciding factor,” Max snickered, and Marinette shoved him, making him stagger.

“Jerk,” she muttered.

“I bet Luka liked it,” Max observed smugly, and Marinette’s face flamed red.

“We’re not going to win this tournament if I break your arm before it starts,” she threatened, punching Max (lightly, as she knew her skinny friend bruised easily) in the arm.

“I’m sure Luka would comfort y—ow!”

The waiting dragged on again but at least this time she had Max to talk to and strategize with. Once they walked out of the stupid fog tunnel, the whirl began again. It wasn’t any easier, Marinette found, but this time it was Max, confident in his calculations and their abilities, who was her steadying influence. She had more leeway, too, with Max there, they could cover for each other's mistakes. It felt like only moments before they were ushered into the backstage area, waiting to face their final opponents. Marinette felt a bit shaky and weak in the knees again from the rush, but this time she sat herself down and breathed through it while Max paced, muttering strategy and calculations to himself.

Someone cleared their throat beside her and Marinette looked up to find Luka standing there. Now he was wearing his Viperion hoodie, his face made up in a very good approximation of the mask Marinette had put on him when they played together, and he grinned widely at Marinette’s staring eyes. “Surprise.”

Marinette sputtered for a moment, leaping to her feet as Max reversed his pacing and came over. “What are you—how did you even get back here?”

Luka shrugged, still grinning. “I’m on the team roster so I’m cleared to be here. I just wanted to wish you good luck,” he said, addressing them both though his eyes kept coming back to Marinette. “Not that you need it. I um, I hope this is okay.” He gestured vaguely at himself, and Marinette shut her gaping mouth with a snap. “I didn’t feel right wearing it while we were going head to head, but I just...I wanted to be here and support you guys as much as I could.” He held out his hand to Max, though he sent a worried-looking glance at Marinette, who couldn’t seem to move.

“Absolutely,” Max said, stepping forward to meet Luka’s fistbump as if he didn’t notice Marinette was suddenly paralyzed next to him. “You’re a part of this team, and it wouldn’t feel right doing this without you.”

Luka shifted uncomfortably. “I didn’t do that much.”

Marinette’s mouth dropped open again, this time in outrage, but Max beat her to it. “Don’t conflate the magnitude of the effort with its importance,” he told Luka, reaching out to pat his arm awkwardly. Luka’s eyes flicked to Marinette for a moment and she could see his amusement, though he kept a straight face. “Without your assistance we would never have finished the tournament in such an advantageous position for the finals,” Max continued, drawing his hand back to adjust his dark glasses. “We are indeed grateful and your position as a teammate is by no means honorary. I hope when we emerge victorious, you will join us in the awards ceremony.”

“Oh, I—” Luka looked thrown, but Marinette nodded enthusiastically, catching his arm and squeezing it.

“Max is right. You belong up there with us.” She aimed a reassuring smile at him. “I’m glad you’re here.”

The tension left Luka’s shoulders and he started to say something, but he was cut off.

“Team Lucky Charm!” the man with the clipboard shouted without actually looking at them. “Prep for entry. Go up the stage steps but do not cross the yellow line until you’re announced.”

Marinette’s eyes widened slightly, and her whole body tensed. Once again she put a hand over her wildly beating heart and tried to breathe. One more time. She just had to face the lights and the screaming one more time.

Luka’s hand covered hers on his arm and Marinette realized she was digging her fingers into his sleeve. “Hey,” he said, gently detaching her fingers from his sleeve. “You’ve got this. Just like before, right? Own it.” He drew her hand to his lips and kissed her fingertips lightly. Warmth spread from her fingers down her arm and through her body, pooling in her face and stomach. “Come on, before Max leaves you behind,” Luka said, letting go of her hand and placing his on her lower back, pressing gently until she began to move. He walked with her to the bottom of the stage’s metal stairs behind Max, who was marching forward with determination, confident that the numbers were on their side and determined not to be swayed by something as illogical as stage fright.

Marinette paused at the bottom of the stairs, Luka’s hand still warm on her back, her heart beating wildly in her throat.

“Remember,” Luka soothed from behind her. “All you have to do is get across the stage and it doesn’t matter how. Once you’re in the pod you’ll forget everything else, just like before. Besides,” he grinned. “They’re just people. You’re the champion.”

Marinette turned impulsively and hugged him tight. “Thank you,” she muttered, not quite daring to press her face into his chest. Luka’s hands went to her shoulders and squeezed. “Thank you for everything today.

“You’ve got this,” he repeated, sliding his hands down to her arms and shifting her gently back until she stepped up onto the first step, and once her eyes were level with his it became a little easier to breathe in the face of his calm confidence. “Whatever’s gonna happen is gonna happen, right? So just get out there and play.” He grinned. “Good luck, Ladybug.”

Marinette felt an answering smile growing on her face.

“Marinette!” Max called from where he was waiting near the top of the stairs. “Hurry up!”

Marinette looked up at Max as Luka let go of her, but she turned back quickly, grabbed Luka’s face in her hands, and pressed her lips hard to his. He made a startled noise, and when she would have pulled back his hand came up to cradle the back of her head, prolonging the kiss as he swayed after her. Max hissed her name again from the top of the stairs and Luka let her go, breathing hard, something kindling in his blue eyes that made her flush and grin stupidly back at him.

Then Max was grabbing her arm and hauling her, stumbling, back up the stairs with him. “The sooner you two have that talk, the better,” he muttered as they went up the last few steps together, Marinette trying to contain the stupid grin that kept wanting to break out on her face. "May I remind you we have a competition to win? The sooner it’s over, the sooner you two can go make out in a supply closet.”

“Max!” Marinette whisper-shouted in horror, and Max just grinned.

“Win first,” he told her, adjusting his horseshoe pendant. “Kisses later.”

Before she could retort, the announcer roared out, “Team Luckyyyyyy Chaaaarm!” and there was no more time to think about anything besides the bright lights and roaring crowd, and then the blink of the countdown and the hard plastic of the controller against her palms.

***

Luka was waiting when Marinette came flying down the stairs, a laughing Max following in her wake.

This time she leapt into his arms, making him stagger, and her feet never touched the ground as he laughed and spun her around. He bounced her a couple of times before she let her feet drop to the floor and gave him enough room to share a fistbump and back-slapping hug with Max.

Then everything was a whirl again, as all three of them were ushered to the press room for interviews and soundbites, and Marinette wasn’t sure whether she managed to get out anything coherent or not. She and Max both kept a hold on Luka, dragging him into the interviews with them, and they presented as a team. Luka’s experience bailed them out a couple of times when unexpected questions gave them pause, and his hand on her back was steadying when she started to stammer. Marinette paused and took a breath and steadied her voice before answering the next question.

“You guys did great,” Luka murmured when they were finally released, and then there was another flood of bodies on them, and Alya was screaming in her ear and Max’s mother was screaming in his and then Kim wrapped his arms around both Max and Mrs. Kante just as Marinette’s dad did the same to her and Alya, and for a few moments it was a fight to breathe. Marinette saw a flash of Juleka’s purple hair and heard the Captain’s voice boom but everyone was talking at once and Marinette was too overwhelmed to focus on any of it.

Finally, the families were ushered back out to the stands with instructions to be back in their seats in forty-five minutes for the official awards ceremony. As the room began to clear out, leaving the top players milling around with varying expressions of elation and exhaustion. Marinette looked around and found Luka. He was looking right at her, and when their eyes met he tipped his head slightly and indicated the doors. Marinette nodded, heart suddenly in her throat, and Luka flashed her a quick grin before turning away.

“Max,” Marinette whispered watching Luka slip out of the doors, “What are my odds?”

“The human heart is impossible to calculate, Marinette,” Max said, putting his hand on her shoulder. “Although that kiss would argue for a positive response.” He squeezed her shoulder lightly. “No matter what happens, I support you one hundred percent.”

Marinette’s brain was already humming, giving her a list of excuses and reasons why it would be better to put this off, starting with the looming awards ceremony and moving on from there, but Max’s hand on her shoulder and Kagami’s words in her mind got her moving forward. No more hesitation.

Marinette wormed her way through the bodies between her and the door and slipped out. She nearly collided with Luka, who was clearly waiting for her. He flashed her a grin and caught her hand, tugging her down the hallway.

“Luka, where are we going?” Marinette hissed as he walked quickly, pulling her along.

“Somewhere we can talk,” he told her, keeping his voice quiet. “Just don’t make too much noise, okay?”

Marinette frowned. “We better not really end up in a supply closet.”

“What?” Luka nearly choked trying to muffle his laughter. “No, I promise, I can do better than that. My mom’s played this arena a couple of times, I know my way around.”

“But—” Marinette began, but then closed her mouth as Luka opened the door to a stairwell and started up it. “I don’t think we’re supposed to be up here,” she whispered as Luka checked the floor number and peeked through the window of the door.

“Nope,” he grinned, opening the door and motioning her through. “Do you trust me?”

She did, so she went through. “We’re not going to the roof this time, are we?” she asked skeptically, and Luka chuckled.

“Not this time.” She followed him down a dimly lit hallway and did her best not to squeal in incredulous dismay as he jimmied a door lock with a credit card.

“All the security on the entrances, and crap locks up here,” he said, swinging the door open. “Typical.”

“I didn’t realize you were a cat burglar in your spare time,” Marinette muttered as he took her hand and drew her inside what turned out to be some kind of private viewing lounge. She could see through the big windows down into the stadium, and the room was scattered with couches and cocktail tables.

“Nah,” Luka laughed quietly through his nose, slipping his wallet back into his pocket. “I’m a pirate.”

Marinette looked at him, and he winked at her with that grin, and she couldn’t help breaking into giggles. “You are, aren’t you,” she laughed, covering her mouth. Luka snickered with her, and for a moment they could only stand there trying to stifle their laughter. Luka made no move to turn the lights on, probably to keep anyone from noticing that the room was occupied, but there was enough light from the windows that they didn’t need it, and eventually their laughter died down, and they were left just looking at each other.

Luka cleared his throat, pulling two bottles of water from the pockets of his hoodie. He held one out to her and she took it gratefully, suddenly aware she was parched.

“I feel like you’ve been taking care of me all day,” Marinette said, stifling more slightly hysterical giggles, and Luka grinned at her.

“Sorry. Big brother thing I guess. Or...well, maybe not,” he blushed and looked away. “I just know you’ve been pushing yourself a lot lately, and today was…” He blew out a breath and shook his head with a grin. “A lot. It can really take it out of you if you’re not taking care of yourself, so...sorry if I’ve been pushy.”

Marinette smiled at him over the rim of her water bottle as he reached to twist the cap off his own. “I didn’t mi—whoa, are you okay?” she reached out to steady him as he suddenly fumbled it, spilling water over his hands.

“Fine,” he said, a little too quickly, shaking the water off his hand without looking at her. “I’m fine.” He took a drink and then coughed, and Marinette pounded his back, concerned.

“Geeze, slow down,” she said, torn between amusement and exasperation. “Maybe somebody ought to be taking care of you.”

He coughed through an embarrassed laugh. “Sorry. God, you always catch me off guard.”

Marinette blushed, though she didn’t understand exactly what he meant. Getting control of himself he added quickly, “Congratulations. You and Max both did amazing. I think I screamed myself hoarse cheering you on.”

Marinette hunched her shoulders slightly with a pleased smile. “You did really great too. I can’t wait to watch the replays, I heard you destroyed Desperada in the second round.”

Luka winced. “Yeah, that was rough, our skills just…” He shook his head. “She’s an amazing player with what she’s got but she’s basically never beaten me because of the way our stats stack up. She’s done so well, I hated for her to go down like that, but…” He shrugged and grinned. “I did what I had to do. Wasn’t going to miss going up against you in the final.”

Marinette grinned back, and then dropped her gaze, a silence falling between them that threatened to become awkward if one of them didn’t find a way to start. Determined that it would be her, Marinette began in a rush. “Um. Well I wanted to—we haven’t really talked, a-about, and we said we would, and I know maybe it might seem like we don’t need to, and, well this might not actually be the best time but if we wait for the perfect moment it’ll never happen, and I know we, uh, before, and then tonight, and so maybe we don’t need to but I just, I hate it when there are all these misunderstandings because people don’t talk and we should talk and—stop laughing!”

“Sorry,” Luka said, bringing up a hand to cover his mouth as he continued to chuckle. “I can’t help it. I’m happy and you’re really cute.”

“Damn it,” she hissed, reaching up with both hands to pull on her pigtails in frustration, “I’m so bad at this!”

“You’re doing fine,” Luka said, taking the bottle of water from her and setting both hers and his on one of the tables. He stepped closer and put both hands on her shoulders, and rubbed lightly. “I can go first if you’d rather.”

Marinette groaned and buried her face in her hands, suddenly mortifyingly close to tears. She was being an idiot. He’d kissed her, and let her kiss him, and acted like he wanted to keep kissing her, and with the texts during the week, and the way he’d been smiling at her all night, and he came to her fashion show, and bringing her up here and the way he was acting now, he really couldn’t be more clear, so why was she still so terrified?

“Marinette,” he said, his voice soft and affectionate, “Listen, I think you’re—”

“No!” she yelled, throwing out her hands and stepping back from him, breaking his hold on her shoulders. “No, I have to do this, please.”

God, she was going to ruin everything, he must think she was insane. There was no way that she could explain to him the utter train wreck that had been her years-long crush-obsession with Adrien Agreste, all the things she’d said and completely failed to say, all the time she’d spent analyzing their least little interactions, all the times she’d practically stalked him only to lose her courage and lie at the last minute, until finally, finally, the words passed her lips in a jumbled wreck and were met with—

She peeked one eye open and could see that Luka was looking at her with concern. His eyes were blue and not green, his hair dark and not blond, and the expression on his face was concern and empathy and not blank confusion.

It wasn’t the same. She could do this. It wouldn’t be the same. It wasn’t the same. She wasn’t the same.

“Are you sure?” Luka said hesitantly. “If it’s this hard for you, then—I mean I thought you’d know by now that I—but you don’t have to say anything you’re not ready for, you know that, right?”

“No, it’s not that, and it’s not you, it’s me, and I need to deal with it. Please, Luka,” Marinette added desperately. She needed to put this ghost to rest and this was the only way she knew how.

“Okay. Okay, Marinette.” He reached up and took her hands, tugging them gently away from her face and then pulling her over to sit on one of the small couches. “I’m listening. Do what you need to do.”

“I’m sorry,” she sighed, slumping back for a minute. “It’s just, the last time I did something like this it...it didn’t go so well and I know this is different, I do, but it’s...it’s hard. But I want to. I want to do it. I...I kind of need this, Luka.”

“Okay.” Luka slid a little closer, his hands still wrapped around hers. “I hear you. Take your time. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Right,” Marinette whispered, half to herself. “Okay.” Luka squeezed her hands and she realized they were shaking. She needed to get this over with before she went completely to pieces. Why did he always have that effect on her?

No.

Adrien had that effect on her.

Luka—Marinette forced herself to raise her eyes to Luka’s, and saw only warmth and encouragement there. She straightened and put her shoulders back and took a breath to steady herself, though the shaking didn’t stop.

“I r-really like you, Luka,” she began, wincing slightly at the stutter and feeling her lips begin to tremble too. “You’ve been a wonderful teammate and a good f-friend, but you’re—” She swallowed hard; this was too close, too close to the words she’d used back then, but it was too late, she had to keep going. “You’re so much more than a friend to me,” she went on in a rush. “At least, I—I want you to be. S-so maybe, if you, um, if you want to, maybe we could go out. Sometime. On a date. A real date, not a just-friends date.” She squeezed her eyes shut and looked down quickly, face burning, suddenly feeling totally inept and like a complete fool and what had she been thinking—

“Yeah.”

Marinette looked up. “What?” Luka was grinning broadly, and he looked oddly...proud. Of her?

Maybe he really was as perceptive as Juleka said.

Shit he was talking, she should listen.

“I said yes. Yes, hell yeah, I’d love to go out with you.”

Marinette blinked at him uncomprehendingly. Luka laughed at the look on her face. “You’re unbelievable,” he chuckled, shaking his head. “Smart, sassy, gorgeous, tough, incredibly brave, why wouldn’t I go out with you? Do you really think I’m that big an idiot?”

She gaped at him like a fish.

“Can it be my turn now?” Luka asked, when she didn’t find anything to say, and she nodded dumbly, not entirely sure her soul was still inhabiting her body.

Luka leaned toward her and gently framed her face in his hands. “Marinette, these last few months have been the best I’ve had in a long time and you’ve been a huge part of that, as an opponent and a friend and...honestly the more time I spend with you the more amazing you are to me. I know there’s probably still a lot we don’t know about each other, but I want to. I want you to know me, and I want to know you. All of you. I want to be an expert in Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

Marinette had to giggle at that, slapping her hand over her mouth in horror at the high-pitched girly sound of it. Luka’s grin widened as he shook his head and pulled her hand away from her mouth, threading his fingers through hers and lowering their hands to his lap. “Don’t cover it up, it’s so pretty,” he told her, and his slow grin set off an entirely different panic as he tipped her chin up with his free hand, brushing his thumb lightly across her lips. “I was right about the red,” he said, and when did his face get so close, oh no, but also yes, but wait was this too soon or should she—but she wanted to and if he wanted to then that was good enough, right? ”Can I kiss you now?”

“Okay,” she said shakily, and he leaned in slowly, watching her face.

“You sure?” he said, pausing and sitting back a bit. “You don’t look like you—”

As she stared at Luka frowning with concern because he thought she didn’t want to kiss him, there was almost an audible snap in her head as the past settled back where it belonged and the now became sharp and clear. What the hell was she doing?

Marinette grabbed the front of Luka’s hoodie and dragged him forward. “Get over here,” she ordered, though the breathiness in her voice took a lot of the force out of it. It was enough, though, Luka closed the distance with a desperate little noise and their lips met once, twice, three times in hard, passionate kisses, before finally settling together into something softer but no less heated. The hand under her chin slid up to flatten along the side of her throat, and then slid farther back to curl around the back of her neck, Luka’s thumb brushing her jaw as he tilted her back. He was kissing her like—like—

Like he really did like her as much as she liked him, like he meant all those things he said to her, like he’d been thinking about it for a while now—

And he was really good at it, she acknowledged dizzily as his lips began coaxing hers to open.

But hell if she was going to let him run the show. She nipped his lower lip and he startled slightly. Grinning in the small space that granted her, Marinette wrapped her arm around his neck and pulled the other free from his hand to grab the back of the couch and pull, forcing him back as she straightened and rolled up to her knees so that he was the one with his head tilted back, and only then did she part her lips and slide her tongue into his mouth, hands moving to hold his face at just the right angle. The strangled noise he made and the way he grabbed at her hips was very satisfying. It felt so good to get some payback after all the time she’d spent agonizing over her crush on him. She wasn’t even sure he was aware of the way his hands were scrabbling against her, trying to pull her into his lap.

She broke the kiss, laughing when he tried to follow her to prolong it. “Easy, we still have to go back in public after this,” she teased, and Luka groaned, letting his head fall back against the bench.

“Fuck me,” he muttered breathlessly, and Marinette snorted, leaning against him.

“What kind of girl do you think I am?” she scoffed, and Luka’s eyes flew open.

“No, no, God, no, I didn’t mean, I wouldn’t—”

Marinette let him stammer for another few moments out of pure revenge for all those times he had grinned at her while she tripped over her tongue, before she leaned in and kissed him, softly this time. “Shut up and put yourself back together, Viperion, we still have an awards ceremony to get through.”

“ Shit. ” Luka let go of her and covered his face with his hands. “I’m gonna need a minute.”

Marinette put her hand over her mouth and tried not to laugh but she couldn’t help it. She was just so happy. Luka dropped his hands and grinned at her, reaching out to snag her around the waist and pull her close, kissing her even as she continued to laugh, pure joy singing from her soul as she pretended to dodge him. He planted kisses on her jaw and her neck as she squealed and tried half-heartedly to wriggle away before giving up and turning to kiss him again on the mouth, and then again, and then again, slow, deep kisses.

“What?” she asked as Luka chuckled against her mouth.

“Nothing,” he sighed, nudging his nose against hers. “Just feeling lucky I guess. I’m so happy, Marinette.”

Marinette smiled, but they did need to be getting back, so she pushed his hands away for real and slid off the couch.

She bit her lip in amusement when Luka whined, leaning his elbows on the back of the couch and letting his head hang back. “Do we have to?” he groaned. “I really hate ceremonies.”

“Yes,” Marinette grinned, grabbing his hand and pulling him up off the couch. “I want to see you up there, right in the number two spot where you belong.”

“Oh, low,” Luka laughed, dragging his feet as she tugged him towards the door. “Wait, wait.” He pulled his hand free and turned back to grab their water. “Never leave evidence behind,” he said, handing her one of the bottles with a wink. “Especially not evidence with lipstick stains.”

Marinette giggled. “Wait, is that why you—”

“No comment,” Luka said, cheeks reddening as he threw the incriminating evidence in the hallway’s recycling bin.

They weren’t very sneaky coming back down the stairs, giggling and snuggling and nearly tripping more than once because they were standing too close together.

When they emerged into the full light of the hallway outside of the lounge, Luka looked at Marinette and smirked. “Hey Ladybug.”

“Hmm?” Marinette raised her eyebrows.

Luka leaned in and kissed her until they were both breathless. “Fix your lipstick,” he whispered against her lips, and laughed as Marinette cursed and jerked back, slapping a hand over her mouth. Her red lipstick had held up to the relatively innocent kisses backstage, but now it was smeared all over his mouth, blended with the peach he’d been wearing, and her face couldn’t possibly look any better. Luka burst out laughing at her expression, and Marinette began to giggle again too.

“Here, I have some wipes,” he managed to say at last, pulling a packet of makeup remover wipes from his back pocket. “Let me help.”

“You should, since it was your fault,” Marinette shot back, taking the packet from him and pulling a wipe free. She pouted as Luka snatched it back from her fingers, but she didn’t really mean it, and she let him take her chin in his hand and tilt her face up.

“I’m not even sorry,” Luka chuckled, eyes on her lips as he gently wiped away the smears. “I’ll buy you a better brand.” He winked, and then his humor settled into a quiet contentment that shone in his face. “That was pretty amazing, Marinette. I hope we can do it again sometime soon. Maybe I could take you out to dinner and—”

“Marinette!” Max called, bursting out of the doors down the hall and looking around for a moment before spotting them. His shoulders slumped in relief. “There you are! You weren’t answering your phone, I was getting concerned. It’s almost time.”

Luka winced, going to work quickly on his own face. “Busted,” he murmured, and Marinette could hear the laughter in his voice.

Marinette snorted. “Like he didn’t already know. He’s been teasing me about you since we met.” She raised her voice and called, “We’re coming.” She took Luka’s hand and tugged him along with her back to the doors where Max was waiting.

Max adjusted his glasses and looked at his phone. “We’re due for the ceremony in two minutes and forty-five seconds.”

“Thanks for the heads up,” Marinette smiled. “I’m good to go, I just need to grab my makeup bag and fix my lipstick.”

Luka made a noise that sounded suspiciously like choked laughter, but Marinette didn’t look at him, squeezing his hand tight enough that he winced.

“Oh, you left it on the drink table earlier, I picked it up for you,” Max said, pulling her lipstick tube out of his pocket and coming down the hallway to meet him. “It looks good to me, though, are you sure you want to take the time?”

Luka coughed into his hand, obviously trying not to laugh, but Max didn’t even glance at him.

“It’ll only be a second,” Marinette said, taking the tube from him. She opened it and paused as they reached the doors, using her reflection in the window to apply her lipstick over her naturally reddened lips. She could see Luka over her shoulder finger-combing his hair back into place. She capped the tube and handed it to Luka with a wink. “Hold onto it for me? I have a feeling I might need it again later.”

“Sure,” Luka grinned, and reached around her to pull the door open. “Just find me whenever you’re ready to need a touch up.”

It was Marinette’s turn to choke on a laugh, while Max threw Luka a slightly puzzled glance, but clearly dismissed his odd phrasing in favor of ushering them all back into the ceremony. Marinette grinned. Max might think he’s all worldly, but when he’s focused on something he doesn’t notice anything.

***

They made it through the awards ceremony and almost an hour of the afterparty, accepting congratulations and fistbumps and handshakes and ribbing (mostly good-natured, some not so much, but Marinette had never cared less in her life than she did at that moment). Then someone on the game committee stood up to make a speech and Marinette saw her opportunity. She grabbed the lapel of Luka’s hoodie and tugged lightly. He met her gaze and grinned, following her pull willingly.

She ducked into a shadowed hall, pulling him just beyond the light from the party, and as soon as she leaned back against the wall he was bending over her, though the kiss he laid on her lips was soft and gentle and over much too quickly.

“Sorry,” he murmured, with a lopsided grin. “That was kind of presumptuous I guess.”

Marinette grabbed the lapels of his hoodie and pulled him in for another soft kiss. “Maybe. I don’t mind though.”

“I really like you, Marinette,” Luka said, one hand finding her hip while the other leaned on the wall beside her. “In case I didn’t make that clear before. Not just kissing you, though, for the record, I really like that too, but. You. It’s you.”

Marinette smiled, a happy flutter in her stomach making her wiggle a bit. “You should probably know I’ve had a massive crush on you for weeks,” she admitted shyly, still holding on to his hoodie.

Luka’s grin got wider, his eyes lighting up. “Yeah? Weeks?”

Marinette pouted at him. “Don’t lie, you knew.”

Luka chuckled and looked away. “Maybe. I just...I didn’t know what to do with it for a while. I didn’t want to lead you on if I wasn’t...but then I was, and...” He looked back at her and grinned slowly. “Just weeks, huh?”

Marinette shrugged, looking somewhere over his left shoulder. “Weeks. Months. Something like that.” She twirled her finger in the string of his hoodie, still not quite looking at him. “So I’m maybe not at all opposed to—presumption.”

“That’s, um…” He was clearly trying to keep his smile under control, but it wasn’t working. The grin on his face was rapidly crossing into idiotic. Marinette giggled. “That’s really good to hear,” he continued, “because I’ve been getting really stupid over you really fast since we started working together, so...I’m kinda glad you got a head start. It’s actually really flattering coming from a girl like you.”

Marinette frowned slightly. “A girl like me?

Luka gave her an amused look. “Maybe you haven’t noticed, Marinette, but you’re kind of a catch.”

Marinette blinked at him, startled, and Luka buried his face in her shoulder to muffle his laughter. “Oh my God, you really hadn’t noticed. You’re so damn cute.”

“Cute!” Marinette huffed indignantly, but Luka lifted his face from her shoulder and nudged his nose against hers with a low chuckle that made her shiver.

“Adorable,” he told her, with so much affection that she couldn’t be offended. “Also really, seriously hot, which, I don’t even know how you manage to do both of those at once, but—” He cleared his throat. “Can I—”

“Yes,” Marinette giggled, tugging on his hoodie, and he bent, closing his eyes and kissing her with a slow heat that made her weak. She slid her hands up his firm chest and over his shoulders until they met behind his neck, savoring the pleased noise he made. Luka broke from her mouth and laid soft kisses along her jaw.

“When can I see you again?” he asked, his voice so deep it was practically a growl, and Marinette shivered again. Luka cocked his head slightly. “You okay?”

“I, um,” Marinette bit her lip. “I really like your voice,” she admitted in a rush.

“Yeah?” That idiotic grin was growing on his face again and she was rapidly falling in love with it, with the way that he looked at her…

With him. She was falling pretty hard for him. And her only consolation was that he seemed to be tumbling head over heels along with her. The idea of loving someone who loved her back was...heady, to say the least. Not even the most euphoric moments of her ill-fated pining compared to this.

“Marinette?” he prompted, nudging his nose against hers. “I’m serious. I really want to see you again soon.”

She kissed him again, just because he was so close. He chased her when she would have ended it, and she smiled against his lips before letting him coax her into a much longer, deeper kiss.

“Wednesday?” she said, when he finally drew back.

“Hm?” he blinked slightly glazed eyes and Marinette giggled. She straightened up off of the wall and leaned into him instead, fingers sliding up to play with the short hair at the nape of his neck.

“Wednesday,” she repeated. “You can pick me up at seven. Bring your guitar, you promised to play for me again.”

“I did,” he agreed, voice dipping low again as his hand slid around to the small of her back. “I can’t wait.”

“Bring your A-game,” she told him. “I expect to be swept off my feet. But come hungry and plan somewhere light for dinner because my parents will freak when I tell them I have a boyfriend. There will definitely be appetizers. There might be cake. Maybe even a souffle. You tell Papa his rematch will have to wait though because I’m not sharing you this time.”

The dopey grin returned. “I’m your boyfriend?”

Marinette blinked, and then blushed hotly, which both made him grin wider and limited her ability to play it off, but she did her best. “You’re on trial. Think you can handle it?”

“Oh, definitely,” he chuckled, and that dopey grin turned into the pirate grin that always made her melt. “The question is, can you?”

“Oh that’s how it is,” Marinette managed, raising her eyebrows.

“Yeah,” he murmured, freeing one hand to slip it behind her neck and tilt her face up. “That's how it is. So you let me know when you’re convinced.” His lips descended on hers and his body pressed hers in the wall and by the time he was done kissing her Marinette was pretty thoroughly convinced.

Not that she planned to admit it anytime soon.

She was pretty sure she was going to like this game.

#quickspins #killer combo #lukanette #endgame lukanette #lukanette endgame #gamer au #luka couffaine #marinette dupain-cheng #miraculousladybug #miraculous ladybug #ml fics

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