Sure, Next Time.

Sure, Next Time.

Sure, Next Time.

Summary: Hobie only comes to you after trouble Characters/Pairing: Hobie x GN!Reader Word Count: 1.4k Warnings: Blood, injuries, dislocated finger, hurt/comfort A/N: Pls bear with me as I attempt his accent lmao

It didn't necessarily surprise you when Hobie accidentally let it slip that he was Spider-Punk. You could recognize the sticker abused guitar and stressed leather jacket anywhere. What did surprise you was the number of injuries he sustained and how easily he could hide them from you. If he had a limp his excuse was, "Tripped in my boots, luv." Any other injuries he used the excuse of having started a fight with some capitalist douchebag. And you believed it. It was only until he came back for you to patch him up after every battle that you began to truly let your anxiety feed into it.

Hobie had climbed through your window at 2am. The sun was nowhere to be seen, and the moon was shrouded in clouds. You had become a light sleeper as of late, the rise in crime getting on your nerves and preventing that precious rest you craved.

You woke up at the sound of those familiar heavy boots against your tiled floor. Squinting, you recognized the familiar shadow of a certain spider-man, or at least the shadow of the spikes on his head. "Hobie?" You reached to turn on your bedside lamp. Tired eyes squinted as the warm light enveloped the room. Your voice was scratchy from having been woken up at an ungodly hour. Your hair was all over the place, strands in front of your eyes and sticking out in ways that you didn't know it could. You thought this was a dream with how Hobie had frozen like a deer in headlights at the end of your bed.

Hobie thought he could just slip in and out, weaving his way to your bathroom and taking a couple of bandages for his trip home. He was wrong and now look at him. He had barely made it to your house in one place and there was no doubt that he was not making it back to his own. All his weight was on his left leg, he was using a web connected to your roof as leverage to keep him upright. You could see a dark stain seeping through his mask just above where you assumed his left eyebrow to be. You suspected there to be more than what you could see through his mask but would have to wait until you finally got him to the bathroom sink to find out.

The corners of his lips turned up as he watched you struggle to untangle your legs from the bedsheets. "Need some help, luv?" A shit eating grin adorned his face, but you couldn't see it. Even when he was injured, he still managed to make your cheeks flush in embarrassment.

You rolled your eyes. "I'm just fine." You huffed, finally finding the floor against your feet and taking steady steps towards the injured man. You didn't see him using your roof as leverage and silently cursed yourself for taking so long. "You better not pull out my roof with that web. Otherwise, you'll be the one dealing with my landlord." You huffed only half-joking. Humour seemed to be your coping mechanism. "Don't get all funny on me now, luv." He chuckled, sounding worn out and in pain. You helped him through your mediocre apartment, having draped his arm over your shoulders and letting him rest his weight against you as you walked (stumbled) to the bathroom.

With a slight huff through your nose and grunt that you wished was silent, Hobie was now sitting on your toilet, the lid shut. He was too tall when he sat on the sink (you found that out the first time he came over) and well, you didn't have much room up there to begin with. You crouched to the cupboard below your sink. In a Spider-Punk themed box (made by you to tease Hobie) was a consistent supply of bandages, disinfectant wipes, alcohol wipes, splints, etc. There was everything you could think of that someone would need when injured. You made this box not long after the first time Hobie came back with blood dripping from his forehead, and you didn't have anything to help. That night was filled with gentle apologies and worried glances.

"Can you take the mask off, Hobes?" You mumbled, having pulled the box onto the sink. You turned to watch him, tired eyes noticing just how he flinched when he moved his arms to push the mask over his head and tossing it to the floor. His hands were trembling, one of his fingers looking to be the slightest bit out of place. The cut above his eyebrow was bleeding profusely and it looked as if part of his piercing had been pulled on.

"'s not as bad as it looks." His hands gently moved to rest on your hips, eyes glancing towards the worried look on your face before moving to the roof. "Not as bad as it looks. Baby, you've probably got a concussion... No, you've definitely got a concussion." You mumbled, hands already digging into that spider-punk themed medicine box. You managed to pull out some baby wipes and a few alcohol wipes. Adrenaline was coursing through your veins, heart thumping in your ears. Your hands came up to caress his face, taking a baby wipe to gently wipe the blood dripping down his face. There was a visible wince and a hiss of pain that came from the touch. Hobie's long fingers gripped the fabric of your pyjamas.

"I'm sorry, Hobie..." you muttered, trying to be as gentle and careful as possible. Once the cut was cleaned and a bandage was placed over it, it was time to move to his finger. "I'm even more sorry about this. We're gonna need to put it back in place, okay?" You were kind of glad you took that health course in high school now.

Hobie let out a groan, too tired to respond with words, but it was clear he was not looking forward to it. His hands released their grip on your hips and instead were placed in your palms. "Okay, we're gonna count to three and I'll put it back in. That good, baby?" You asked.

The suspense was killing Hobie, he was already in pain as it was. He's had dislocated digits before, so he understood the importance of getting the limb back in its socket as soon as possible, but that didn't mean he was going to enjoy it. He nodded. "Yeah, okay." He hummed in response. Except you didn't even count. You waited until he spoke up and quickly pushed the digit back into its socket, earning a muffled (still loud) groan of indescribable pain. "I'm sorry! Fuck, I'm sorry. It's over now." You apologized, wrapping his swollen wrist in a compression bandage. The tears brimming in his eyes and the sick pop of his finger had you feeling queasy. You felt your stomach flip and not in the usual happy way it did when Hobie was around. However, you pushed the feeling aside, hands resting on his cheeks as you leaned in to press a small kiss just to the left of his bandage.

"Let's get you to bed..."

After finally fixing up his injuries the two of you had found yourselves lying in bed. Hobie was next to you, one arm drapes over your stomach, the other resting under his head. His lips brushed against your cheek.

"I worry about you. About what you're doing." You spoke quietly, glancing back into his eyes for a moment. "I know it's for the greater good, but seeing you come home in the middle of the night half dead every day is- It's not nice." You rambled quietly before finally going silent.

He huffed through his nose, although it wasn't angry. "I know, luv. Gonna give you a heart attack one day." he joked, pressing his lips to your temple. "I love you." The words came out quiet, barely leaving his lips before you turned to face him.

"I love you too, Hobes. But next time you get a dislocated finger just go to a doctor. I literally felt sick from that." You mentioned, earning a small nod and a deep chuckle.

"Sure... next time." He mumbled in response, closing his eyes and wrapping his arm around you securely. There was no need to worry about the outside world as long as you were in his arms.

More Posts from Blue-sky336 and Others

1 year ago

ASTV Master list

Hobart 'Hobie' Brown

Fics

Sure, Next time

Patching Hobie Brown up after a more dangerous encounter with a supervillain. (Hurt/Comfort) (gender neutral)

I'm not a role model. I was a runway model.

Hobie models your own designs (fluff) (gender neutral)

Accidents Happen.

Hobie's piercing gets stuck between your septum ring, leading to a sticky situation (fluff) (gender neutral)

Baby Fever

Hobie calls you over while babysitting Mayday (gender neutral) (fluff)(drabble)

Unresolved Feelings

Hobie has been nothing but nice to you, but you can't do the same in return (gender neutral) (ft. Gwen) (angst)

Head cannons

Touch Starved! Hobie

Things touch starved Hobie does to you (gender neutral) (slightly suggestive)

What the ASTV boys love about you

Ft. What Hobie loves about you (gender neutral)

Flirtatious! Hobie

Things flirtatious Hobie does to you that he can't get enough of (gender neutral) (fluff)

Miles Morales

Fics

Come home with me.

Asking Miles to come with you to your dimension ends in a little more than you expected (fluff) (gender neutral) (coming soon)

Unknowing and Unexpected

When Miles is taken to dimension 42 he doesn't expect to see an old friend.. or at least a version of one (series)(angst)(gender neutral)(cannon violence)

Headcannons

What the ASTV boys love about you

ft. What Miles Morales loves about you (fluff) (gender neutral)

Gwen Stacy

Fics

I missed you

Headcannons

Gwen struggles with keeping her s/o safe (request) (gender neutral) (angst)

Partner

You need a break and Gwen is determined for you to see that (request) (gender neutral) (comfort/hurt)

Interacting with Spider-Woman while dating Gwen

Ft. Playful banter with Spider-Woman (gender neutral) (fluff) (angst)

Miguel O'Hara

Fics

You Don't Deserve Me

Miguel fucked up. (angst) (gender neutral) (short)

Headcannons

What the ASTV boys love about you

Ft. What Miguel O'Hara loves about you (fluff) (gender neutral)

Possessive! Miguel

Things possessive Miguel enjoys doing to you (NSFW) (explicit) (gender neutral reader)

Peter B Parker

Fics

Temptation

Peter longs for you more than you think (drabble) (nsfw) (Fem reader) (explicit)

Headcannons

What the ASTV boys love about you

Ft. What Peter B Parker loves about you (fluff) (gender neutral)

E-42 Miles Morales

Fics

Cat and Mouse

E-42 Miles realizes he's fallen in deep with his enemy (angst) (fem reader) (coming soon)

Silence

Sometimes all Miles needs is a good hug and some silence (hurt/comfort) (grieving) (gender neutral)

AP Chem

Miles is still a teenager, and you can't help but admire him as he does his AP chemistry homework (fluff) (drabble) (fem)

Headcannons

Soft!42 Miles

Things soft Miles loves about you (gender neutral) (fluff)

Pavitr Prabhakar

Fics

Coming soon

Headcannons

What the ASTV boys love about you

Ft. What Pavitr Prabhakar loves about you (fluff) (gender neutral)

Dating Pavitr Prabhakar

He's a little awkward, but it's okay because you love him


Tags
2 months ago

Rotten || Part 2

Rotten || Part 2

Summary: Second chances only come to those who deserve it. You aren't sure if your husband should be considered as a deserving person. Characters/Pairing: Miguel x GN!Reader Word Count: ~900 Warnings: angst, A/N: This was asked to be turned into a part 2 by @bat1212 a while ago and I completely forgot :(( sorry for keeping you waiting!!

Ever since you had walked out, a bitter taste had left its permanent place in Miguel's mouth. He had done nothing but watch the love of his life walk out of their house as if they were nothing to him. He had already lost his old life, and then there was the one he stole from his alternate self. An alternate version of him who was happy, who lived with you and your daughter... up until the incident. When he met you in this world, he swore he wouldn't let anything hurt you. Yet here he was being the soul reason that your chest ached and heart broke.

Your phone was hot, ready to blow up with the number of calls and texts that your husband had been spamming you with. Most ranged from 'call me', to extensive apologies and begging for forgiveness. It would never be worth it.

How could you forgive him after he threw away everything he promised to you?

As your phone rang for the tenth time that night, you finally decided to answer. it wasn't an easy decision, already knowing that the sway in your silent treatment would break your faux confident demeanour. "What is it?" The sigh that slipped past your plump lips was pathetic, a giveaway to how upset you truly were. You could sense Miguel's hesitation before he even spoke.

"I am sorry," he began, "I wasn't fair to you.."

That pathetic excuse of an apology wasn't enough for you. You shook your head, standing in the street as the cool air dug its cold claws into your skin. You shivered and had to fight off another sigh. "Miguel, sorry doesn't cut it anymore. I have had enough of your treating me as if we aren't a team, as if we aren't literally married!" Your voice began to raise, the rush of emotions forcing you to pause before you say anything else that you would regret. Typically, Miguel would have scolded for you for raising your voice at him in his own brash way. Tonight, he chose not to. He was too hard on you, too distant and it was eating away at your once beautiful marriage.

"You're right.." He sighed softly, leaning his back against the headboard of your bed, "Sorry doesn't cut it anymore." He admitted quietly. His eyes shut and his hand came up to pinch the bridge of his nose. He'd neglected his partner for too long. "Come home, my love.. Let me apologise in person. Even if that isn't enough, you deserve to hear it." His words sounded sincere, but they still made your stomach churn. Were you seriously about to go back on your own words and crawl straight back home into his arms? It had only been a few hours since you left and yet you already missed the warmth of your shared bed.

"I can't, Miguel." Your words were stern, even as your bottom lip quivered. If you were to come home, fall into his strong arms and listen to his words you knew exactly what would happen. You would listen to his apology, the sweet little words of your lover professing his undying need to have you in his life as if it was the last thing he'd ever do. You would break, falling back into the cycle of leaving and crawling straight back at the drop of a hat.

Perhaps that's why you found yourself in the cab, still talking to Miguel. You heard his sigh of relief as you muttered your address to the driver, smiling shyly as you sat in the back seat.

"So, you are coming back?" His voice was borderline teasing, poking at your buttons until you'd huff and tell him to be quiet.

"I won't if this is how you're going to be," your grumbled. For a moment you paused, closing your eyes as the car began to move. "Will you run me a bath? I'm cold..." You admitted, only to hear the gentle rumble of his laughter. Although you were both still on edge, neither of you could deter yourself from the need that panged your chest.

It wasn't long before you were home, clothes thrown to the floor as you sunk deep into the bath that Miguel had drawn for you while he impatiently waited for you to come home. His fingers rubbed against the top of your calm, caressing your knuckles as he leaned his head against the edge of the bath. While you basked in the warmth of the water, he settled in your presence outside of the bath.

"Let me make things right.." he whispered, kissing your palm. As you looked down at him, you couldn't help but nod.

"Okay.." you sighed, finally forgiving your husband.


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1 year ago
Possessive! Miguel Who's Hands Are Always Gripping Your Hips The Slightest Bit Too Tight, Leaving Bruises

Possessive! Miguel who's hands are always gripping your hips the slightest bit too tight, leaving bruises the size of his palms.

Possessive! Miguel who enjoys watching you squirm in his lap, keeping you secure with his large hands and staring daggers at any man who dares looking at you.

Possessive! Miguel who loves the startled look on your face as he pushes you against the wall, hips rutting into yours.

Possessive! Miguel who has you begging for any touch, asking (telling) you who you belong to. "Who do you belong to, mami?"

Possessive! Miguel who enjoys seeing your pathetic pout as he teases you, placing lingering touches that has your hips bucking into his rough hand. "Oh, mami, look at you... You're just begging for me to take you.."


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1 year ago
Flirtatious! Hobie Brown Who Can't Help But Lean In Close To Your Ear And Whisper The Sweetest Of Compliments

Flirtatious! Hobie Brown who can't help but lean in close to your ear and whisper the sweetest of compliments just to witness the blush on your face.

Flirtatious! Hobie who knows just how much you love it when he calls you by pet names and will use it to his advantage. "You got a sec, sweet pea?"

Flirtatious! Hobie who enjoys the way you throw back the best comebacks to his pickup lines

Flirtatious! Hobie who shamelessly flirts with you as Spider-Punk to the point where news articles are written about spider-punks mystery s/o.

Flirtatious! Hobie who loves the feeling of your breath against his ear when you whisper back how stupid that pick up line was.

But most of all, Flirtatious! Hobie who can't help but smile every time he sees your blush because he knows he's the one who caused it <3


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1 month ago

Would anyone be interested in some House x reader x Wilson content??? I fear they're eating at my brain. House is whispering devious things through my ear and Wilson is doing nothing to stop him smh


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4 months ago

Mountain

Mountain

Summary: You're sick of being Peter's therapist Characters/Pairing: Peter x Fem!Reader Word Count: 420 Warnings: light angst, use of the word mum once A/N: why are all my old fics so short :((

"I cannot keep doing this for you." Your words started soft. The conversation was inevitable. The lost sleep, stolen from the spider itself, the trauma and consequences that followed were catching up to the both of you. Peter knew it was coming sooner or later.

"I can not keep taking care of you every night. You can't expect this from me." You placed your bag down on the kitchen counter, the contents beginning to fall out.

"I never expected it from you-" He tried to say. Your hands gripped the counter, knuckles white in pure anger.

"But you did! Every single night you came through my fire escape, bleeding out and sobbing, delirious! And single every night I would fix you up. Even when I was sick, or in pain or hurt, I always patched you up. It isn't fair that you expect this from me." Your words came out rushed, heart hammering against your chest. Rough hands touched your shoulders, trying to calm you down but you pushed them away. Your words were finally caught in your throat, a sob bubbling in your chest like an unruly potion in a cauldron.

"I am not your fucking therapist!" You yelled, "I am not your own personal nurse, or your mum!"

Peter stood dumbfounded at your words. There was no going back from this argument, and he knew it. Besides, you were right. He had expected you to help him. He believed that since you were his forever loving and caring partner that you were willing to risk your own mental health over his physical health. Yet, you couldn't. There was no universe where this would end well.

Attempting to reach out once again, Peter exhaled shakily and gently touched your shoulder. "Please..." He spoke, squeezing your joint through the fleece jacket, "I can fix this. I promise, I can fix all of this. Just give me another chance." The brunettes' words were beginning to sound panicked, yet you couldn't care anymore. He was the cause of your emotional turmoil for the past year. You were no longer willing to be the one to bear the consequences of his actions, especially when you were on the brink of your own emotional demise outside of your relationship with the man.

"No," you shook your head, "I'm done."

The corners of your lips turned up in a hateful and tight-lipped smile. Seeing his distraught expression made you feel powerful, your decision to leave now set in stone. Peter felt you slip through his fingers, watching with nothing but helplessness now as you walked towards the front door. Reaching for your keys, you turned back once more.

"Goodbye, Peter."


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1 year ago

this isnt an ask, but i just wanted to let you know i love your work SO MUCH like tis just SFOSHERIGURSIUGBESRILBGSLERI

Omg pls this is so sweet!! Making me motivated to finish the 35 drafts I have fr!!! You're actually so sweet anon <33 kicking my feet and squealing!!!


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1 year ago
Touch Starved! Hobie Loves To Have His Hands On You. His Hand Might Be On Your Hip, In Your Back Pocket,

Touch starved! Hobie loves to have his hands on you. His hand might be on your hip, in your back pocket, fiddling with your ring finger, etc.

Touch Starved! Hobie who doesn't care who sees him kissing your neck, marking and biting just to get any taste of you.

Touch Starved! Hobie who leans in every time you pull away. Your touch lingers against his cheek, leaving soft sparks against the tinted skin.

Touch Starved! Hobie who lets you do his eyeliner because he loves the feeling of being close to you. Having you in his lap with his eyes closed and the most dazed look on his face. He's in heaven.

Touch Starved! Hobie who sprays his pillow with your perfume because he finds your scent so attractive.

Touch Starved! Hobie who's always got his arms wrapped around your waist from behind when standing around HQ. No one has ever seen you two apart, you're practically attached at the hip now.

Touch Starved! Hobie who is desperate for any touch you're willing to give him no matter if it hurts...


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1 month ago

I need to pass my Chem exam 🙏

Reblog And You’re Guaranteed To Be Successful At Whatever You Do Next!

Reblog and you’re guaranteed to be successful at whatever you do next!

4 months ago

Origin || Part 2

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3

The little black box that rested in your palm left you intrigued. Tracing the intricate carvings of gold-stained wood your mind wandered to how it ended up on the floor in the first place. You didn't notice the old man dropping it earlier, yet he was your only suspect. Maybe it would have that old man's number engraved on it? You couldn't be completely sure until you opened it.

Shaking those thoughts away you mustered the courage to open it, as much as you wished to return it to its rightful owner, something else was selfishly drawing you closer. A soft white glow emitted from the case as a gold necklace with what seemed to be an angelate pendant rested on a cream cushion. What you were yet to notice was the small creature floating right behind the open box. Your fingers caressed the gem, it had always been one of your favourites due to the gentle shimmer it held compared to the harsh contrast of an opal or chrysocolla. You had a vast knowledge in gemstones.

Your eyes flickered upward at movement, only to widen. You gasped and took a step back. You didn't scream or speak as the floating blue and tan bunny stared you in the eyes. With a sweet smile they opened their mouth to speak. "Good afternoon! I'm Cece." The creature flew close to your cheek, almost expecting a warm welcome despite your shocked expression.

"What the fuck— I have to be high." You muttered, placing the opened box down and immediately rubbing your eyes. You did take your medication earlier, but hallucinations weren't a side effect that you were aware of.

"Oh, dear! You aren't high, or I hope you aren't... Miraculous owners are supposed to be well behaved." The bunny spoke once again, taking that small floating hop backwards to regain some space between you. Your eyes widened once again. Miraculous... You'd heard that word before watching a live video of Ladybug and Chat Noir. They referred to their jewellery as Miraculous', but there was no way that was what this necklace was. No. It had to be a prop, a stupid prank even from a random Parisian who just wanted to cause trouble to the foreigner. "Are you alright?" The petite voice spoke up once again, its large eyes staring curiously into your own, yet you couldn't bring yourself to speak.

Finally gathering the courage to make your presence one of relevance, you nodded. "I am... okay. You said 'miraculous holder'... Right?" Your voice was hesitant, nervous even as you swallowed down the nausea and word vomit that the anxiety of the situation pushed upon you. As the creature went to speak again, you interrupted them, earning a small frown. "Because I can't be a miraculous holder. I can barely walk up the stairs on a good day and on a bad day I'm bedridden. I can't save anyone if I can't save myself—" Your words were full of sincerity and truth, showcasing your true worry to complete a job that you weren't even sure was meant to be for you. It had to be some form of mistake. Your face, full of worry simply expressed your concern for everyone else, a prominent frown on your face while your hands gestured while you spoke.

"Calm down," the small being smiled, a soft paw caressing your shoulder, "You were chosen not for your physical ability but your use of sympathy and empathy for others. If you choose to be the holder of the bunny miraculous, all you have to say is 'Cece, let's bounce'."  Cece understood the weight of the decision; it was one she had witnessed over the course of thousands of years. Each one of her holders had their own select difficulties that held them back from accepting at first, but each one always found their way back.

You swallowed hard, the decision weighing on your shoulders. "I don't know. How is this real?" You muttered rhetorically before turning to sit at your desk, spinning so you were facing away from Cece. The idea of becoming a hero was fascinating and thrilling, but what would happen if you couldn't save someone in time because of your own inability to do things? Dwelling on the thought for a few moments, you took your time before turning back to Cece. Maybe this would be worth it, give you a reason to look forward to the day rather than see it as a hindrance. Cece's ears flopped against her face as she tilted her head. A gentle smile flashed across her small face as she watched you turn around. "You are the chosen one, brace it." The way she spoke your name made you smile, filling you with a comfort and the assurance that you certainly needed in that moment. She trusted you and hoped that you would do the same.

Letting out a shaky breath and offering a small nod. You stood up and reached to the small stool that you'd left the miraculous box on, carefully pulling the gold necklace from its resting place before placing it around your neck. It was lightweight and simple, matching your own style yet bringing more personality. "Cece, let's bounce," you flashed a small smile towards the creature, watching with slight fright as it was absorbed into the necklace. Five swirls surrounding a white dot appeared on the centre of the necklace, indicating the amount of time you would have before turning back after using your special ability.

Blue and tan wrapped enveloped your body, a suit that was adorned in white swirls and golden accents appeared against your warm skin. Your hands moved across your eyes as a blue and gold mask concealing your identity spread across your face before a small staff-like object fell into your gloved hands. You recognised it to be similar to Chat Noir's staff, one that you'd only seen in videos but paid close enough attention to recognise the few buttons that made the staff extend. However, your staff didn't extend as much as his. When you pressed the button, it extended to double its length, with a curved blade on one side. The other came to a sharp point, decorated with angelate jewels and iridescent swirls, it was both beautiful and dangerous.

Looking in the mirror you were amazed at the way the suit morphed to fit your body. You no longer looked like the weak little kid your parents envisioned you as. Your hair was pulled into two low buns, your natural colour being hidden through baby blue and white highlights that matched the pale rabbit ears pinned into your hair. It was an odd sensation at first, watching as they flopped each time you moved your head from side to side, but eventually it became rather fun.  An immense pressure had been lifted off your shoulders, the weight of your suit feeling non-existent compared to the overwhelming empowerment it gave you. 

No longer feeling like a little kid, overwhelmed by pain and exhaustion 24/7, you decided it was time to explore. You had arrived in Paris almost over a month ago and you were still yet to truly discover the extent that the city had to offer you. You'd always wanted to try Andre's ice cream, so perhaps that would be your plan for this afternoon, not necessarily taking the moment to realise that you may look like an akumatised villan stalking around in your costume.

~~~

Launching yourself from roof to roof with the assistance of your staff, you relished in the light feeling of your body. Nothing hurt anymore. In some ways this unexpected opportunity was becoming much more appealing than your everyday suffering. Landing on a tiled roof, you momentarily close your eyes. The sun provided you with it's warmth, reflecting off the white swirls that decorated your suit and illuminating you in golden light. There was something so oddly satisfying about witnessing the glow of those white swirls.

Your ears twitched, standing up straight as the heavy thump of multiple footsteps fell behind you. There was no moment to react as leather clad hands grabbed you, pushing you down against the concrete tiles. You hissed in pain, hearing your own attacker grunt as you both landed uncomfortably. You went to speak, only to be immediately cut off by a vaguely familiar voice.

"Who are you?"

It was stern and commanding, lacking the usual humanity it held towards regular civilians. You recognised it to be the voice of the leather clad heroine, Chat Noir. Your wide eyes studied his face, your lips not moving to answer as you attempted to analyse the harsh expression the young man held. Eventually you spoke up, his rough hands shoving your shoulders slightly deeper into the concrete. You flinched, this was going to bruise later. "I am the holder of the bunny Miraculous." You spoke, trying your hardest to keep a brave face, "I understand that seeing a new face might make you antsy."

Perhaps your choice of wording wasn't the best, feeling the claws of Chat Noir's suit digging into your shoulders. You expected him to puncture the baby blue fabric of your suit, but a certain red and black yo-yo pulled him back. The bug themed hero placed her hand on his shoulder, their conversation falling on deaf ears. All you noticed was the disappointed tone of her voice and the apologetic glance Ladybug offered you. Slowly sitting up, you rubbed your right shoulder.

In the blink of an eye, the young woman was walking towards you. Each move of hers was decisive and cautious of you. "I was told that you would be joining us soon." The hero flashed a friendly smile at you, "But I suppose my dear friend here didn't quite catch that message, did you, Chat?" Ladybug glared at him, watching as the corner of his lips turned downward. You noticed the way he took her words and felt your own frown forming.

She held a hand out to you and you cautiously took it. While you trusted Ladybug, that interaction with Chat Noir had left you a little bit on edge.

"What's your name?" Your thoughts were interrupted as the bluenette held her hand out for you to take. You smiled slowly and carefully placed your own gloved hand in hers, letting her help you up as her feline friend stood there with his arms crossed. He held a defence position, the scowl on his face never leaving.

"Thank you." You smiled with gratitude, watching as she returned it. Thinking on her question, you simply shrugged. "I don't know yet. I'm still trying to decide." You hummed nonchalantly. It was as if Chat Noir's horrid introduction didn't bother you anymore, although on the inside you felt horribly shaken up by the whole ordeal. You wouldn't want them to think that you might have been weak, or an accessory to Shadow Moth's master plans. This newfound ability to express your feelings more clearly through words made you feel somewhat calmer after the feline hero's attack. 

Chat Noir stood a step behind Ladybug, his arms crossed over his chest. He didn't trust you. Something had to be off, surely Ladybug would have told him there was a new hero being thrown into the mix. He scowled at the thought and his frown deepened as he watched the friendly interactions play out before him. This wasn't fair. None of this was fair. His brows furrowed and he shook his head. He shouldn't be thinking like this, there was no point in dwelling on the moment just in case he was to fall victim to an akuma. The blonde boy noticed your hand brushing against the young woman's shoulder, watching intensely as you steadied yourself once again. Little did he know, this was the first time you had properly distributed your weight across both legs. And God, did it feel perfect.  

He was yet to notice the way you turned to face him, eyes running from his leather ears to those emerald eyes of his. Offering a friendly smile and a hand, you spoke once again. "Maybe we can start over," you began, "I wouldn't want to get off on the wrong foot with you, Chat." You hummed. He tensed and inhaled sharply; his eyes flickered from your smile to your hand. "Whatever..." He finally exhaled with a huff, lazily pulling his arms down and finally shaking your hand. He pulled your arm, forcing you to lean in close as he began to whisper into your ear. "This doesn't mean we're friends. Got it?" he hissed. Your shoulders tensed. 

"I understand..." 

Word Count - 2111


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