breathe store

Breathe (Laf x Reader)

AN: another late and short one! my bad!

Tag Crew: @huffleheyguys @artisticgamer @theoverlordofeverything @hmltntrsh51 @iamnotthrowingawaymyshit2 @hamilton4starwars @megabooklover18 @jantales

Request: Anonymous- 94 with laf? (94. “I had a bad dream again.”)

Warnings: death ish 

Word Count: 1,481


Gilbert was two hours late from work, without a call or text about why. You were curled up on the couch nursing a mug of tea, trying to stay awake. These were your least favorite nights. Anything could have happened to him. All you could do was run through all of the possibilities until he got home.

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do you wanna touch me (there) - Isaac Lahey one shot *smut*

Summary: After an exhausting day of running errands, you were disappointed to return home to an empty loft. Or so you thought.

Pairing: Isaac Lahey x reader

Rating: Mature for graphic sexual content, heavy swearing

Originally posted by smutdiaries

“I’m home!” you announced as you entered the loft, struggling to carry a week’s worth of groceries. Thinking you could hulk it out, you had grabbed all the bags from your car at the same time. Second trips were a bitch.

One of the bags slightly teetered against your arm, threatening to topple over. “Anyone here? I could use some help!”  you desperately requested. You were met with silence.

“Guys?” you squeaked. Still nothing.

Yeah, you regretted everything. 

Feeling like a rejected soccer mom, you huffed against a lock of hair that had fallen over your face. You trudged across the loft and into the kitchen, gingerly setting the groceries onto the counter. 

“Children,” you grumbled bitterly to yourself. Even though you were all the same age. Well, excluding Derek.  

“Everyone just runs around town chasing their little monsters, trying to save the whole damn world when they can’t even take care of themselves… So I’m just supposed to cook, clean, AND do their shopping for them… Which, okay fine, I don’t even mind that much. But it’s not like anyone has ever offered to help me with anything… “ You continued to mumble grievances under your breath as you stored the food away.

You placed Stiles’ favorite Cap’n Crunch cereal into a cabinet and Isaac’s cookie dough ice cream into the fridge followed by Lydia’s fat free Greek yogurt and Derek’s ample selection of lean meat and vegetables. Then, you put Scott’s specially requested three different flavors of Lay’s chips into the pantry and arranged Allison’s vegan cheese and bread on the counter.

You sighed as you leaned against the counter to relieve your sore feet. 

Suddenly, you heard a crash followed by a swift “fuck!”

You swiveled around, startled by the unexpected outcry. Sounds like someone was home after all.

Irritation bubbled under your skin as you set off to track down the source of the noise. You were rather curious as to who it was and what they were doing because apparently it was far more important than responding to your cries for help.

One by one, you kicked open the doors lining the hallway. You were feeling dramatic. 

All of the rooms were vacant so far, but there was one left at the end of the hall.

It belonged to Isaac.

You narrowed your eyes at his door, ajar and unsuspecting. You marched forward, ready to FBI his sorry ass when suddenly a deep, guttural moan broke through the air.

“Fuck… yes…”

You froze. Was he…? 

No. No way.

But it couldn’t hurt to confirm.

Creeping towards his room, you carefully nudged his door, peeking inside. What you saw caused your jaw to drop to the floor. 

It was Isaac, laying naked on his bed with a fist wrapped resolutely around his cock. He was a sight to behold with his mouth gaping, eyes screwed shut, face twisted in ecstasy as he stroked himself up and down. A sheen of sweat was visible on his forehead and chest. His cheeks were tinted bright pink. He looked divine, ethereal even, a sharp contrast to the filthy moans that tumbled sporadically from his lips. 

Irritation quickly forgotten, you stood dumbly outside his door, transfixed by his movements. Well, this explains why he couldn’t hear you earlier. Looking down at his floor, you saw a broken lamp discarded by his bed. You thought back to the loud crash you’d heard. Perplexed, you wondered how in the world this kid managed to break his lamp trying to have a wank.

A faint whimper redirected your attention to Isaac. His bed was positioned against the wall of his doorway, so he was facing away from you, but you had a full shot of his body. You couldn’t help but just stare at him. You knew it was wrong, lurking like a creep behind him. Even though basic human decency would dictate that you leave immediately and give your friend his privacy, you physically couldn’t turn away, too afraid to miss a single moment. 

He was somehow more beautiful than you’d imagined. His body, splayed out in careless abandon, was something straight out of a Michelangelo painting. His arm strained to maintain his pace, muscles taut under glistening skin. A light smattering of hair adorned his chest, followed by a provocative trail leading down to his considerable erection.

Captivated by its sheer size, you swallowed your gasp, inspecting all the prominent lines and veins that decorated his cock. You licked your lips, mouth dry with desire. You’d never been so turned on before. 

It’s not that you weren’t sexually experienced, but those other guys barely lasted thirty seconds before they finished without you, leaving you unsatisfied and underwhelmed. Seeing Isaac pleasure himself was getting you off more than any of them ever had. 

You closed your legs, rubbing your thighs together in a feeble attempt to quell some of the tension pooling in your stomach. You weren’t even in the same room as Isaac and he was sending you over the edge. At this point, oxygen was becoming an issue as your struggled to even out your breathing. In response, your heart rate spiked, trying to restore equilibrium to your wanton state. 

Passively, you wondered why Isaac hadn’t sensed your body’s reaction yet, what with his werewolf hearing and smell. He should’ve heard your heart pounding or at least caught whiffs of your arousal. You were embarrassingly drenched. 

You strained your ears, trying to listen to what Isaac was saying. For about a minute, all you heard were soft moans until a rather strangled grunt caught your attention.


Your mouth fell open, eyes widening in shock.

Did he just say your name? Did Isaac Lahey just moan your name as he jerked himself off? It seemed more likely that you had finally reached the point of being horny where you just straight up start hallucinating.

In your everyday life, Isaac never regarded you as more than just a friend. You let him copy your Chemistry homework and he helped you train, running miles with you and teaching you fighting techniques, insisting you needed to learn in case he “wasn’t there to protect you.” 

Sure, every once in a while, he fell asleep with his head in your lap and you pretended that he didn’t nuzzle your inner thigh with his nose. And sometimes, he pulled you towards him and wrapped his scarf around your neck because he said he liked knowing you were warm and you ignored how good he smelled up close. 

But just because you fancied that there could be something deeper between you two doesn’t mean that he felt the same. It was impossible that Isaac was getting himself off thinking about you, especially because he was seemed so engrossed in his actions that he didn’t even notice that you were standing less than six feet away from him.

You were definitely hallucinating. 

“[y/n], fuck,” Isaac grunted again.

Or not.

He was louder this time, rubbing himself more aggressively. You sucked in a breath. Nope, definitely hadn’t imagine that.

This was real. Isaac was saying your name. Not Allison, not Lydia. You. 

You leaned pitifully against his doorway, your knees giving out at the realization that you were the driving force behind his euphoria. Out of all the resources at his disposal, he chose to think about you. You were the reason he was panting like a dog, gripping his sheets and muttering obscenities, one hand still deliciously twisting around his engorged shaft. 

“God, fucking dammit,” Isaac gritted, his voice quivering with desperation. He was close. 

You started to bounce on your toes, all of a sudden torn between your feelings. Fear hit you first because all you wanted to do right now was straddle him and help him finish, looking directly into his eyes as he repeated your name again and again. But what if he got angry that you’d been spying on him? You were currently in major violation of his privacy and if this went south, your friendship might not sustain the awkwardness.

A wave of courage surged through you. What if you decided to be bold? And what if he actually reciprocated your feelings? It seemed your lust, combined with your infatuation and dangerously inflated ego, had fostered a new brazen personality. You were tired of always putting others first, never pursuing what you wanted. 

Fuck it. What did you really have to lose? If he rejects you, you could just tell him to go fuck himself. Literally. While moaning your name.

Also, not only did you really want to do this, but you’d always considered yourself a good friend. If Isaac wanted to get off, then you were going to help. 

Taking a deep breath, you confidently strode over the threshold of Isaac’s bedroom, slamming the door into the wall. Your sudden intrusion alarmed Isaac out of his reverie. His unfocused eyes met yours, then widened in bewilderment.

“[y/n], shit,” Isaac scrambled around, seemingly trying to stand up and cower away at the same time. You swiftly made your way over, mounting his thighs and pushing his shoulders back down. He looked up at you, stunned in disbelief. You were both surprised by your dominance. 

“Hiii,” you chimed, your mouth tugging up at one corner. “What’s up?” 

You affectionately brushed away some curly tendrils stuck to his forehead. Isaac stilled at your touch, almost imperceptibly tilting his head into your palm. He swallowed, still unsure of what was happening. Frankly, you didn’t know either, improvising as you went along.

“[y/n], what’s going on?” he asked nervously, still panting a little. 

“I could hear you from the kitchen.”

“Oh–wait the kitchen?! You heard me… all the way from the kitchen. Great,” he finished lamely. “Was anyone else with you?”


“Okay, that’s–that’s good. Yeah,” he stuttered. “Um, did you hear everything I said?” 

“Yeah, I was standing outside your door,” you bluntly confessed. His face turned a deeper shade of red.

“Shit, okay, you know that I wasn’t being some creepy guy just jerking off to your name, right? I mean, I was jerking off… and saying your name… But it isn’t like that, I promise. You’re more special than that, okay? I didn’t even know anyone was home! Fuck, [y/n], you have every right to hate me–” 

You swooped down suddenly, pressing your lips against his, cutting him off mid-rant. Isaac sharply sucked in through his nose, going rigid under you in shock. You kept some distance between your bodies, supporting yourself on your hands to avoid overwhelming him all your weight. You lingered for a few moments, your hair curtaining your joined lips as you waited for him to recover. Hesitantly, Isaac responded, parting his lips as he leaned up to meet your movements.

Gradually gaining confidence, he lifted his hand to the back of your head, fisting your hair and bringing you flush against him. He cradled your jaw, holding you in place as he kissed you back emphatically. 

Your hands instinctively gripped his shoulder, clinging to him as your mind swam in delight. But when Isaac started to grind his bare hips into yours, you swiftly pulled away, surprised that you’d gotten carried away so fast. You sat up, taking in the flustered expression on his face, his eyes half-lidded in disorientation. You bit your lip, stifling the laughter bubbling in your chest.

“So, I guess I don’t hate you,” you remarked casually, gently caressing his cheek with your knuckles. You brushed your thumb against his bottom lip, which was still very red from your previous ministrations. 

Isaac blinked, absorbing your words, his chest heaving up and down. He looked forward at where your clothed sex hovered a few millimeters above his still erect cock that now rested against his stomach. 

“Christ, [y/n],” Isaac breathed out. You could tell he was still wrestling with his emotions just like you were earlier. His eyebrows were scrunched in concentration. Patiently, you waited for him to sort out his thoughts.

“Let me get this straight. So you just barged in here, fully aware of what I was doing, then climbed on top of me, seemingly oblivious to the fact that I am naked.” Isaac’s voice inflected at the end as he flippantly motioned to his persistent erection. “Then, you kissed me. And pulled away like ten seconds later!”

You nodded thoughtfully, then burst into giggles, amused by how baffled he sounded. If this is how people reacted when you stepped out of your comfort zone, you never wanted to play it safe again.

“And your point is?” you inquired innocently, a smirk teasing your features. 

He raised an eyebrow at you, locking his jaw. 

“I mean, was there a problem with what I did? Because if you’d prefer to just take care of yourself, you can tell me. I’ll just leave you to it,” you shrugged nonchalantly, slightly lifting off the bed. You were abruptly pulled back down by Isaac’s large hands clasping your thighs, squeezing the flesh as he held you down. You huffed out a breath of laughter, placing your hands on his torso to balance yourself.

“You shouldn’t start something you’re not going to finish,” he warned evenly, his thumbs tracing circles on your inner thighs. You sobered at his tone, now trying to hold back a whimper. 

“What if I want you to finish?” you challenged. “What if I want to watch you finish, hear you say my name over and over like you were doing earlier.” 

He raised his eyebrows, an amused smirk pulling at his mouth. Neither of you had ever experienced your smug side before.

“Tell me what this is, [y/n], and we’ll do anything you want. Tell me what happens next,” he demanded, his voice so commanding that you felt it rumble through your core.

You exhaled, considering the implications of his questions.

“Well, I don’t know what ‘this’ is… but I know I don’t want to stop,” you offered candidly. 

“Yeah?” Isaac murmured with a small smile, kneading his hands up and down your thighs. “I don’t want to stop either.”

“That’s good,” you whispered airily, shivering as his fingers trailed the bare skin just below your ass. “And as for what happens next…”

You crossed your arms over you body, grabbed the hem of your t-shirt and lifted it over your head. 

“That depends on you telling me exactly what you pictured me doing while you were touching yourself.” 

Even though you spoke confidently, you secretly wished you’d worn a different bra. Maybe something lacy or black, just anything that wasn’t white and cotton and thrown on in haste. But Isaac didn’t seem to mind, staring open-mouthed at your chest. 

He looked at you, rendered speechless by your initiative. He quickly regained his composure, his eyes a darker shade of blue than before. 

“This looks about right, actually,” Isaac approved. He folded his hands behind his head, propping himself up. He observed you, cocky and thrilled that you were giving yourself to him. “We’re just missing one thing…”

You frowned, cocking your head to the side. What did you forget? 

He chuckled lightly at your questioning look, answering you silently by gently tugging you forward to slam his lips against yours. Oh. 

You smiled into the kiss, giddy with contentment, thinking back to before when you’d pulled away a little too early. You were eager to act out all of Isaac’s fantasies, but you would’ve also been happy if this is all he wanted to do tonight. 

Because right here–you wrapped in his embrace, his hand in your hair, your tongue in his mouth–was exactly how you pictured it.

When I Lost You - Part IV - Jaehyun x Reader - Fuckboy HighSchool!AU

Part I - Part II - Part III - Part IV - Part V

This is from Y/N’s POV. So! A lot of people seem to enjoy this heavily angsty series for some reason, and I really wanted to thank you so much for all the continuous love and support you give this writing <3

Word Count: 1765

Trigger Warnings: Offensive Language

Genre: Fuckboy HighSchool!AU, Angst

Dedicated to [and requested by]: @taeyongbelviso , I hope you’re enjoying your vacation, sweetie <3

You had finally finished the group assignment that was due your already most hated class, and you thought that this project would be a good start to boost your marks up.

All of that, and it was just the first week of senior year. This was really no joke.

Submitting it last night via email, you had gotten the first proper amount of rest since the year had started, finally feeling like you could breathe.

On the plus side, it was now a Friday, and that meant that after this one day at school, you could enjoy your well awaited weekend and do nothing as you relaxed.

The alarm went off but you had been awake for a few minutes, relishing the little time left before you had to drag yourself out of bed.

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Phil’s ASs

Pairing: Phan
Genre: Smut, Fluff, Humor
Word count: 4,122 words
Warnings: Smut, food, body image
Description: Dan can’t help but worship Phil’s perfect posterior

a/n: happy birth month, nikki @pinofs! read it and weep. :)))))


It must have been because he was turning 30.

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day before yesterday i saw a betta belly up and barely breathing at the pet store so i bought him and like… its seriously amazing the difference warm, clean water and some aquarium salt can have!! im so happy, i still need to name him though :’)

Bloodline - Carl Grimes & Negan Imagine

Part 2

Part 3

request: Hey, I know you’re probably really busy with other fanfics and stuff, but if you could, would you write a fic were the reader is dating Carl in Alexandria and Negan is her father/step-father but they got separated in the beginning of the apocalypse and she highkey hates him? This would probably take place after the lineup. Thanks loads!

pairings: father negan x reader, carl x reader

a/n: not exactly what you asked for but i’m thinking about continuing this :-)

word count: 1,199

tagged users: @deeindarkwonderland @namelesslosers

The mere thought of Negan sharing the same blood as you made you shake with anger. He brought you nothing but sadness, and you had yourself convinced that you could never consider him your father again. Not after all he did to you and your family.

For you, family wasn’t your blood. You had no genetic connection to any of the people who were always there for you, whether you needed them or not. Abraham was your family. Glenn was your family. Daryl was your family. Because of Negan, your family was torn from you. 

You and your father were as close as you could have imagined. It was just the two of you against the world. When your mother passed, you clung to your father for support. He clung to the new world, finding comfort in violence. He wasn’t always that way, though. 

Your dad sat you down on the countertop of an abandoned convenient store as he scavenged through the remains of the shop. The shelves had been rummaged through, but he was able to stock up on some non-perishable food and drinks. 

“Here, kid,” he said, handing you a packet of jerky. You handed him a strip, and he happily took it. He smiled at you, then rubbed your hair teasingly. You giggled, pushing his hand off you, but he pulled you in for a hug. “I’m so happy I have you.” 

You didn’t know it at the time, but your father was slowly morphing into a villain; someone who you would grow to hate. You were only a kid, so it took you a while to realize why he was so upset all the time. You didn’t have as much to miss from the old world as he did. 

There was one event in particular that made your father a completely different person. It didn’t mean much to you at the time… You had no concept of what was right or wrong. You had been taught to kill the dead, but your father was always against harming the living. 

You stood close behind your dad, your knife firmly grasped in your hand. He taught you how to defend yourself early on, once he realized that he couldn’t protect you forever. You were good with your hands and even better with a knife. Although, your skills with a gun were unbelievable in your father’s eyes. 

He used a rusted crowbar to force open the door to an old gas station. There was a small market attached to the inside which seemed untouched. The shelves were relatively full, and they were all stocked up fairly well. Your father smiled at you when the door popped open, swinging out towards him. 

“Stay close,” he whispered. You nodded, sticking to his backside. Your eyes darted around the room, which was seemingly empty. Your father went one way, and you went another. Before you knew it, a hand was cupped tightly around your mouth, and you were being dragged towards the back of the store. 

Your breathing was heavy, and you couldn’t remember much after that. When you woke up, the room was silent. Your father was covered in blood, as were the four bodies that surrounded him. The only difference was that your father was breathing. 

Your mind was blank, numbed by the wave of shock that took over you. His eyes held yours for what seemed like hours. Neither of you dared to make a sound. You weren’t scared. You knew your father would never hurt you. You were confused, though. He always told you to be kind to the living. 

That was when everything changed. He was able to remain himself after Lucille died, but when those men tried to hurt you, he snapped. His will to be kind left the same night you did. You never planned on running from him, but his violent tendencies only grew more and more gruesome as time went by. 

You left when he was sleeping, an old bat he had found in a house you raided tucked by his side. You didn’t leave a note or anything for him to remember you by in hopes that he would move on. You weren’t sure how old you were when you left, but you couldn’t have been much older than fourteen. 

After being on your own for a while, you found a group. They took you in and cared for you to the best of their ability, but they were weak. They were discovered by a group called the Saviors, who claimed to be led by a man by the name of Negan. 

You told yourself that you left because of their willingness to give up half of their supplies, but you knew the true reason. Negan was an uncommon name, and there was no way in hell you were willing to figure out if it was the same man you had grown to hate. 

You fled that community just like you fled from your father. You left in the middle of the night and found shelter wherever you could until you stumbled upon a small community. You were out scavenging for food when you came upon a man by the name of Jesus. 

He took you back to the Hilltop, where you were taken care of like never before. All was well until the Saviors established their dominance once again over a group you had joined. You did what you did best, and left to restart your life again. 

Alexandria welcomed you with open arms. You met Carl, who quickly became your best friend, and eventually became more than that. Your bond was unbreakable, and you didn’t see yourself running away from him any time in the near future. 

You were on the run. For once, it was towards people, not away from them. Maggie was pregnant, and something was going wrong. You didn’t know if she was going into labor, if she had had a miscarriage, or maybe if there were any unknown complications. 

You and Carl were leading the way through the woods as the other members of your group carried Maggie behind you. Your dim flashlight flickered as its battery began to run low, but you still managed to weave your way through the complicated maze formed by the tree roots. 

You were across Carl, on your knees. You really tried your hardest to be scared, but you weren’t. You didn’t have the willpower to be scared at that point. Your body shook unknowingly, and your head seemed to grow heavier and heavier with each breath you took. 

“Let’s meet the man,” a man clothed in gray from head to toe said. Your eyes remained focused on the gravel beneath your knees, and the RV door was busted open. The voice you heard made you release a sob you didn’t know you were holding in. 

Your dad had grown a beard the colors of salt and pepper, and he sported a fine leather jacket with gloves to match. He scanned the row of your friends before his eyes met yours. You saw him quickly come towards you, and that’s when your eyelids became too heavy to hold open. 

Originally posted by marythenurse

Inspired by this post, I made a crossword of things related to only Mistborn. Clues below: 

1: Burning this metal makes you a rioter
2: Feruchemy stores this trait in steel
3: This type of person has access to all the allomantic metals
7: Feruchemy stores health in this metal
9: The planet Mistborn takes place on
11: Burning this metal makes you a thug
13: Feruchemy stores weight in this metal
14: the act of drawing out stored feruchemical traits
16: Lestibournes is better known as this
17: The Metallic Art born of Preservation
22: Burning this metal makes you a Leecher
24: This Allomantic metal is seen as useless since it removes all your reserves when burned
25: A Coinshot burns this metal
27: This term is given to both Aluminum and Duralumin Mistings
30: This metal stores Breath in Feruchemy
32: An Iron Misting is also known as this
33: The Survivor of Hathsin
35: A talented Soother on Kelsier’s crew
36: This Terrisman becomes the Hero of Ages
37: A Misting who burns Electrum
38: A talented disguise artist from Era 2
39: Book 1 of Era 2
44: Book 3 of Era 1
46: The metal stores senses in Feruchemy
50: In Feruchemy, this metal stores memories or knowledge
52: Wax’s Fiance in Era 2
54: This noble house ran the Pits for the Lord Ruler
58: A Gold Misting is called this 
60: A Misting who burns this metal is called a Soother
61: A Misting who burns tin is called this
63: A person with access to only one Feruchemical metal
64: Steris’ half-sister who is a great shot with a rifle
65: This Misting burns cadmium
66: These creations have two spikes and are called the Faceless Immortals
67: These people train to fight Mistings even though they lack Allomancy
68: The bracers supposedly used by the Lord Ruler

2: Feruchemy stores this trait in Pewter
4: Title of Book 1 Era 1, or the Age began by the Lord Ruler
5: The Metallic Art that allows one to store a trait and later draw it back out og metals
6: In Feruchemy this metal stores wakefulness
8: The capital of the Final Empire
9: A Brass Misting is called this
10: This God Metal turns anyone into a Mistborn
12: These people have one Allomantic power and one Feruchemical power
13: This trait is stored in Aluminum by Feruchemy
15: This Thug is on Kelsier’s Crew
18: This man ran Fadrex City after the death of the Lord Ruler
19: A Copper Misting is called this
21: A Zinc Misting is called this
23: This noble house is second only to House Venture at the start of Era 1
24: This God Metal allows a person to see the future
25: A Feruchemist must do this before tapping a metalmind for power
26: Allomancers do this to metals to use them
28: Title of Era 1 Book 2
29: She is called the Lady Mistborn or the Survivor’s Heir
30: This Smoker reluctantly joins Kelsier’s crew
31: This man is later discovered to be an Atium Misting
34: The Lord Ruler’s true name
35: This metal stores nutrition in Feruchemy
40: These constructs use four Iron spikes to be made
41: These men are famous for the steel spikes that protrude from their eyes
42: This Worldhopper is infamous for being everywhere
43: Allomancers do this to “heat up” their powers
45: This Metallic Art comes from Ruin
47: Mistings who burn this metal are called Nicrobursts
48: Another name for Marsh during Era 2
51: Leechers do this to metals; the opposite of push
53: Another name for Pewterarms
55: Burning this metal consumes all of your metal reserves currently burning in one massive pulse of power
56: An Iron Misting is called this
57: A person with only one Allomantic power
59: This gunsmith invented the Vindicator (Era 2)
62: A Bronze Misting is called this
64: Kelsier’s brother who infiltrates the government
65: The opposite of pull

Let me know if there are errors. I’ll try to fix them soon. 

Just Let That Sink In


Title: Just Let That Sink In
Author: Reyxa
Rating: T

Adrien’s day begins like any other.

“Plagg,” he groans, lungs burning as his nostrils are blocked by a small black ball of stink. Adrien sits up, Plagg sliding from his place and into Adrien’s lap.

Plagg whines softly, curling up into a ball. “Let me sleep, kid. We wake up at 5am every morning.”

Adrien sighs, shoving a hand through his knotted hair before nuzzling Plagg affectionately with a single finger. “Yes, but you also sleep all day anyway. Also I think we need to give you another bath.”

Plagg shoots up, eyes wide. He flings himself under Adrien’s bed as Adrien himself snickers. “Don’t you love me, Adrien?”

“I’ll love you when the smell of camembert isn’t choking me in my sleep.” he rolls his eyes, hopping out of bed and stretching.

“And your new habit of not wearing a shirt to bed isn’t doing anything for your ego, Chat Noir.” the exasperation is evident in his voice. “You’re either shirtless or clad in leather all hours of the day, give it a rest.”

Adrien tips his head back and laughs, a laugh that is the most genuine laugh that has bubbled in his throat in weeks. “You’re just jealous of my hot body.” Adrien boasts as he nudges Plagg with his toe.

“Please, those heavy mortal bodies are nothing to be jealous about.” Plagg quips, clawing at Adrien’s toe.

He can’t keep the smile off his face as he heads into the bathroom.

Plagg is the greatest friend any sheltered kid could ask for. The kwami was grumpy and cantankerous but he kept Adrien company through many of his lonely years and Adrien would be forever indebted.

The smile he woke up with slips from his face as he stares at the darkness beneath his eyes. Maybe early photoshoots and late night patrols aren’t the best combination. He sighs, attempting to tame his wild blond tresses.

Saturday is his favorite day of the week. Saturday means no photoshoots, no obligations, no duties. Saturday means waking at 8am rather than 6. Saturday means catching his cute neighbor as she stumbles down the steps that lead to their floor at exactly 10 every week.

She is nameless, that girl. But her blue eyes hold a passion he wishes he could see in his own green ones and her blush is all kinds of adorable. And her stammering and babbling could tug at his heartstrings. More than once he wondered about pursuing her. Every time, guilt caught his heart in its iron grip. That guilt, unlike the girl who lived next door, is named.

Guilt’s name is Ladybug.

His heart is Ladybug’s and that is that. Whether she wanted it or not, she held it in her gloved hands because he had shoved it into them. Take it, you’ll take better care of it than I ever could.

Adrien grimaces at his reflection before shoving a toothpaste-dressed toothbrush in his mouth.


“I mean, I don’t know!” Marinette is babbling again, gesticulating wildly.

“Every Saturday, Marinette!” Tikki laughs, touching Marinette’s nose affectionately.

Sighing, Marinette flops onto her couch. The old cushions creak under the sudden weight. “Someone like him wouldn’t be waiting for someone like me, Tikki.”

Tikki tucks a strand of hair behind Marinette’s ear. “Don’t say that! You’re perfect! Anyone would be lucky to have you. You are Lady Luck after all!”

Her dramatic sigh flutters past her lips. “Ladybug is amazing, Tikki. But without the spots, I’m just Marinette.”

Silence from the tiny red kwami. Then, “You’ll be late, Mari. It’s 9:58.”

“No!” Marinette cries, shooting up.

A smile lights Tikki’s face as giddiness takes Marinette over. “Wait for me!” she shoots into Marinette’s bag as Marinette stumbles out the door.

Marinette steels herself as she locks her door behind her. She stares into the grooves of her door as she thinks, You will say words today. And coherent sentences maybe? But don’t push yourself! Baby steps!

But as she turns to the steps to begin her trek to the grocery store, breath is torn from her lungs. He’s there.

His vivid eyes are turned to the phone in his hand, a secretive smile on his face. His features are delicate and she again finds herself itching for her sketchbook. He’s leaning against the window, light catching the blond waves of his hair.

He’s pretty.



As terribly infatuated as she is, Marinette has yet to know his name.

A tug from her bag jolts her from her reverie. Marinette shakes her head, clearing it before beginning her descent down the stairs.

Towards him.

continued on ao3