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staranon95 · 3 years

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DinCobb Week Day 5: Sharing Cultures (SFW)

for @dincobbweek with a wedding!!

@astrangebird drew some fantastic art and i decided to write a piece about it. that’s that. that’s all of it.

AO3 Link

Wait For Me Here

“We should get married,” Din idly said one day when they were in bed, side by side to wait out the worst of the day’s heat.”

“Oh yeah?” Cobb asks. He’s on his stomach, pillowed on his arms. Din knows this without even having to look because he knows Cobb likes sleeping on his front, usually one leg tucked up a bit, sometimes one arm stretched out for Din as if he’s reaching for him in sleep.

“Think about it. We live together.”

“Mm.”

“We cook together.”

“Mmhm.”

“We fight together.”

“Mm.”

“And we have a child together.”

Cobb snorts. “Sharing custody of your child with a Jedi might be putting it a bit generous.”

“There are also the school kids.”

“’cause half the time I have to tell them not to get into shit they shouldn’t.”

“Still.”

“Still,” Cobb says and breathes in. Then he opens his eyes and Din turns on his side to face him. “Marriage, huh?”

“Mmhm. Unless if . . .”

“Unless?”

“I don’t know what marriage customs are like on Tatooine, and the ones I’ve been invited to were Tusken in nature.”

“Well, shoot, partner, I reckon we go just as hard with our wedding flair as them Tuskens do.”

“Is that so?”

Cobb nods tiredly against his arms and closes his eyes. “Two-day affair most of the time. Eat and drink late into the night, sleep a few hours, and then get up in the morning for the breakfast feast. Everyone comes out with everything. Real big community thing as well.”

“I, I might like to see that.”

“What about you Mandalorians though?” Cobb then shifts suddenly, rising up long enough to lie himself across Din’s chest and hold him close with a leg in between Din’s. “I know you’ve . . . I know it’s not easy for you.”

Din sighs. The fallout from the survivors of his clan is still fresh. At least they didn’t strip him of his armour, but he doesn’t think they see him as Mandalorian anymore. He saw to their relocation on Tatooine with Boba Fett’s help, and finally they can live without the fear of being seen or being caught. But they will not accept Din as one of their own, not anymore, not after he gave up the Darksaber, allowed his face to be seen, and nearly broke every Creed he had taken on as a young adult.

“Well, the weddings were mostly, they were short,” Din admits. “Usually it requires an exchange, especially if one member were coming from a different clan.”

“An exchange of what?”

“Equipment. Weapons or armour. I once saw someone approach the Armourer to ask her how to show them to make a knife for their betrothed. It’s meant to be personal to a degree. Either you got this weapon in battle or you’re offering up a piece of yourself, your beskar’gam.”

Cobb hums. “Sounds very official.”

“Marriage is a pact. You raise warriors. You grow the clan. You protect the clan.”

“Mm. I can work with that.”

Din smiles. “You’re a very agreeable partner.”

“I try.”

…

What starts out as a simple comment quickly turns into nearly a town wide event. Neither Din nor Cobb know how the secret got out. They were thinking, originally, a small affair with their closest associates. Boba is even willing to host at his palace, and Din is fine with that. But then word gets out, as it always does, that the Marshal and the Mandalorian are planning to get married, and now here they are, eating breakfast at Werlo’s cantina, getting approached by one of the mothers in town who’s there after dropping her kids off at the school, no doubt, casually talking like Din and Cobb know what’s going on.

“Marshal! Have you decided on a date yet?”

Cobb blinks and looks to Din before looking at the woman. “Excuse me?”

“For the wedding! Gaia said you and the Mandalorian were planning to marry.”

Din chokes on his caf.

“Um, well.” Cobb reaches out to pat Din’s hand. “We were planning a small ceremony.”

“Nonsense! I know you’re both busy men. We can handle all the logistics for you. All you and your fiancé need to do is show up to the day!”

“Well, Lee, thank you for the offer,” Cobb says, and Din can see he’s trying to be polite about it, but Din knows Cobb has a hard time turning down any of the favours the townspeople show him.

“It’s my pleasure, Marshal. It’s been some time since we’ve had cause to celebrate! We’ll be in touch!”

“Yeah, Lee. See you.”

Once she’s gone, Cobb looks to Din, and Din tries to smother his smile behind his hand.

“Hey, this is your town too,” Cobb says.

“I know. I guess a small ceremony is no longer in the works.”

“They were going to find out one way or another.”

…

From how Cobb explained it, Din thought he had a good idea of what entailed a Tatooine wedding from the settler-slave population. Good food, good drinks, good company.

“Have you thought about a house yet?”

Din looks to Jo as he’s elbow deep in a speeder. “What?”

“You know,” she says like Din should know. “A house.”

“Why would I—”

“Oh. You don’t know. Right.” She pops her lips. “It’s a Tatooine thing. ‘specially for freed slaves and poor settlers. It’s a thing of pride to be able to provide a place like a home. I know my dad worked hard to get an apartment for me and my ma while he also worked to get our manumission. Tiny one bedroom place ‘til I moved out here. But he was very proud of that place when he had it. Point is—what are you bringing to the table, Din?”

Din blinks and reaches for a towel to wipe sweat from his brow. “I hadn’t thought of anything.”

“Let me give you the one up ‘cause I know the Marshal won’t be asking’ for it himself.” She slides down from her perch on a workbench to lean over the speeder. “Man needs himself a proper house. And I’m talking a proper house. Most of the buildings here are temporary. They’re not built for long term which is why they require so much maintenance. Houses underground are the way to be. They take a while, sure, but when you’ve got a village.”

He frowns. “I thought that was for raising children.”

“Villages are for everything here, Din. If you want to give him something good, really show you love him, come find me when you’ve got free time. I’m pretty sure I can help you out with that issue.”

She then leaves and Din tries to return to his work at hand, but he’s stuck on the thought of a house. Of building a house for him and Cobb and for Grogu when he and his Jedi visit. Where they can host friends and not feel too crammed in Cobb’s home as it is. Where they can actually bring their lives and interests together in one shared space. A shared unit.

Cobb enters the garage looking like he’s dressed up to head into town, and Din stands to greet him. “Hey, darlin’!” He kisses Din on the cheek. Din wrinkles his nose.

“I’m dirty.”

“We’ve been worse to each other. Now. I’m headin’ into town for a bit. Told Jo to hold down the fort and you’re here for back up.”

Din nods. “You don’t want me coming with you?”

“Baby, I know you don’t like to travel to Mos Eisley. Take it easy. I’ll be back shortly after dinner.”

“Okay.”

He helps Cobb push out his speeder onto the main street of Mos Pelgo and kisses him once more before Cobb pulls his scarf up over his mouth and nose and pulls his goggles down over his eyes and offers Din a two fingered salute and then he’s off.

Din trudges down the street towards where Jo is leaning against the wall of the cantina. “So. A house.”

She nods. “Come on. Let’s talk logistics.”

…

In what they originally wanted to be a quick and short wedding turns into a several month-long affair as Mos Pelgo comes out in spades to support their Marshal and Mandalorian in tying the knot. They plan for food and for drinks. They send out invites to the local Tuskens, who also seem enthused that Din is getting married. They think it a good match, and well, at least Din has their approval.

The building of the Marshal’s new house is quietly under wraps. All Cobb knows is that a new house is being built, but he thinks it for one of the families in town, even comes by to watch Din at work in the staked-out pit, helping to dig down and remove sand until they come to the more compacted ground that they can put stabilizers against and hold in place before they’re pouring the plaster and concrete for the walls.

Whenever Din has a spare moment, he plans with Jo for the interior. A nice open kitchen. A large room for the both of them with an en-suite bathroom. There is not only one guest room but two. One that will largely be Grogu’s when he’s here to stay, and also one for the Jedi if he plans on staying the night. Sometimes he does.

Then there’s the living room, circular in design that could hold a dozen people comfortably, and knowing Cobb, he’ll like the opportunity to entertain more. Din thinks it’s perfect, and he finds as he puts the work into making a home, he realizes he’s looking forward to it not just for Cobb’s promised happiness, but also his own. He can’t remember the last time he’s actually had a proper home like this. Not since Aq Vetina anyway.

“You’re in a good mood,” Cobb says that night when they’re finishing the dishes after dinner.

Din shrugs. “Just happy I guess.”

“Good.” Cobb kisses him quickly on the cheek. “You deserve to be.”

…

One of the next steps for the wedding is the clothes themselves. For Cobb it means he’s getting a robe made for himself. White, flowing fabric with a fancy gold trim around the hems. It’s a standard piece of Tatooine marriages, and Din feels himself sort of bereft that he doesn’t have something similar.

So he plans a visit to Boba’s because they have a shared lineage, and Din can’t exactly walk up to where his old tribe is and ask, “Can any of you help me dress for my wedding? Even though you see me as dar’manda and probably wouldn’t accept my marriage to an outsider?”

Best not to think of it.

He rides with Cobb to the palace, but Cobb isn’t planning on staying.

“I got business in town,” he says. “Might be a while. You okay staying here tonight?”

“Of course.”

“’kay. Kiss.”

He tilts up for Din to lean down and kiss him before waving him off. Then Din heads towards the palace and is let in by the guards.

It’s one of Boba’s work days, meaning he’s not seeing court, which means he’s pouring drinks for him, Fennec, and Din to enjoy. He always serves the strong stuff, which makes Din’s throat burn, but he’s getting used to it.

“So how is it anyway?” Boba asks, reclined on one of the sofa’s where Fennec can press her feet against his thigh.

“Going well,” Din says, keeping his eyes on the dark liquor in his glass. “The house is coming along.”

“You still haven’t told him yet?” Fennec asks.

Din shakes his head. “I want to keep it a surprise for him.”

“Sounds like you got it bad.”

“And you don’t?”

Fennec chuckles and Boba smiles amusedly.

“Fennec’s not exactly my queen here,” Boba says.

“That’s right. I’m an empress.”

“Still. A house sounds like a good idea. Putting down roots. Settling in.”

“It’s about time,” Din says, taking a sip. He smacks his lips. “But it’s getting close to the day and . . . the seamstress offered to tailor me something, but I was hoping for something more—”

“Familiar?” Boba offers. Din nods.

“I think you can help with that,” Fennec says. “Despite what he might say, Boba’s become a real fashion snob.”

“It’s not fashion when you have to wear it to impress people who won’t take you seriously otherwise. The battle armour doesn’t always work.”

“Sure,” she says. “We’ll go with that.”

“I’ll see what I got.”

They eventually move to Boba and Fennec’s shared private quarters where Din can examine the clothing in front of a mirror.

“If you’re looking for something more Mandalorian,” Boba says from within his closet. “I’d suggest the lavalava. Especially if you’re aiming for tradition.”

“Bring out the blue one if you have it,” Fennec says.

Boba returns holding what Din first sees as a skirt, but recognizes the design of it when he was first living in the Fighting Corps’ barracks as a child. It’s meant to be a more formal piece of Mandalorian wear for more casual settings if one didn’t want to dress up in full battle armour. It’s meant to just sit on the hips.

Boba gets him to try it on right there. “You’d probably just wear a light pair of leggings underneath,” he says.

“Oh, and then,” Fennec says, rising to her feet and entering the closet. She returns with a lighter blue cloak and a red sash. “Tie it off with this sash here.” She wraps it around his waist. “And then the cloak like this.” She lets it sit on one shoulder and brings the two ends together to pin at his other shoulder. “You know, I might have a broach that could fit this. Din, hold this for me. I’ll be right back.”

He does as he’s told and looks at himself in the mirror.

“Not bad,” Boba says. “Colour suits you.”

Din turns a bit to admire himself in the mirror. He looks at Boba in the reflection and asks, with his stomach fluttering, “Have you spoken to the clan?”

“Oh, uh, yeah. Last week I think.”

Din hums.

“They’ve settled in just fine. Getting along with the Tuskens just fine, but seems like they got more in common than they do the settlers.”

Din nods. “I had a feeling they would.”

“Have you . . .”

“Not since they relocated.”

Boba hums.

“Here we go,” Fennec says, coming back into the room with a silver brooch—in the shape of a Mythosaur skull.

“I didn’t know you had that, cyar,” Boba says.

“It was a gift from a long time ago. Guy who gave it to me certainly wasn’t Mandalorian, but I think it’s best to return it to someone it should actually belong to.” She fixes the brooch to the cloak and then turns Din to face the mirror directly. “There. Now you look ready to get married.”

Din runs his fingers through his hair. He might want to get it cut before the wedding, but he knows Cobb likes it when it’s longer and it holds its waves more. He should at least shave. The uneven scruff on his jaw isn’t all that appealing to himself.

“Stars, it’s going to be a mad house on the day of,” Boba says. “Seems like we’ll have to bring the good stuff, Fennec.”

“You’re telling me.”

…

In the days leading up to the wedding, Din sees to the final touches of the house, ensuring the furniture is in place with room for more when they make the final move. He plans on surprising Cobb that day.

They have a good celebration the night before at the cantina, drinks on the house, and then, in Tatooine fashion, the couple are separated the night before. Din is headed off by Boba and Fennec to Din’s new house, and Cobb is dragged away by his deputy Jo to his house.

“Rest up, vod,” Boba says. “You got a long day ahead of you.”

The next morning, Fennec helps him get ready for the day, making sure his hair is just right, and the cloak is sitting on his shoulders just so. Boba is there in his armour, and Din feels a sour note in his stomach that he’s not wearing any of his. He wouldn’t feel right after his expulsion from the clan.

“You still want the Mandalorian vows?” Boba asks.

Din nods. “If you can.”

“I’d be honored, vod.”

And then he’s led out with his friends on either side of him down the main street with everyone and then some—Tuskens, out of town friends, some of Boba’s closer associates—have come out in full force down the street as it’s been fully decorated for the day.

The ceremony itself is held at one end of the town where an arch of bone from bantha horns has been carved as a gift from the Tuskens. And that’s when Din sees him—Cobb, dressed in white with gold trim and with the hood up over his head, a red sash at his waist as if to match Din’s without even knowing. His back remains turned as Din walks up the aisle towards the arch and then he’s standing next to Cobb, shoulder to shoulder, with Cobb’s lifelong friend and impromptu wedding officiator Issa-Or standing before them. Din keeps his eyes forward for now, waiting for the right moment to face his soon-to-be husband head on.

“Now, I know ya’ll have come out and taken time off of your busy schedules,” Issa-Or says. “And we don’t have much time to dilly-dally like they did in the nicer districts in Mos Eisley and the rest. Time wasn’t a luxury for people like us, so we had to make do. Which is why we’re here to see that Cobb Vanth, Marshal here in Mos Pelgo, spends the rest of his days married to none other than a Mandalorian! Someone he chose to let into his life, his home, and share the rest of his time in this mortal coil with.”

Din feels himself blushing, feels a smile breaking out over his face.

“Cobb?”

He sees Cobb lift his head.

“Why don’t you take a look at your man?”

He feels Cobb reach for his hand and Din gently turns with a little prodding. And as he turns, he sees Cobb pushing back his hood, and Din feels as if he could cry at the sight of him.

He sees Cobb’s lower lip tremble before he smiles, as bright as Tatooine’s suns themselves. “Din.” Cobb lifts Din’s hand and holds it between both of his own. Then Cobb laughs despite himself. “First time I’ve been without words in a while.”

There are a few laughs among the crowd.

“Darling, my love. First day I laid eyes on you, I knew I couldn’t let you go. And I am a richer man for having you. Even if I don’t got much but my name and my reputation and the good will of the people before us, I hope to give you everything you could ever need.” Then he raises Din’s hand and kisses the back of it tenderly.

“At this point, we’d say a done deal and have a feast,” Issa-Or says. “But as it is, Din is a Mandalorian, and we want to respect that part of him, so he comes with his own vows.”

She steps aside to let Boba come up.

“If you’ll both repeat after me,” he says. “We are one together.”

“Mhi solus tome,” Din says, quietly, only enough for Cobb and Boba to really hear.

He watches Cobb smiles, the pink curl of his tongue before he’s repeating in Basic. “We are one together.

“We are one when parted.”

“Mhi solus dhar’tome.”

“We are one when parted.”

“We share all.”

“Mhi me’dinui an.”

“We share all.”

“We shall raise warriors.”

“Mhi ba’juri verde.”

“We shall raise warriors.”

“Oya, vod,” Boba mutters.

And Din finds himself feeling bashful, and that’s when Cobb pulls him closer by his hands.

“Now I consider that we’re well and truly hitched now,” he says, and Din rushes in to cup his face and kiss his riduur in front of an adoring and loving crowd.

…

The rest of the day is pretty much a blur of being at Cobb’s side, being dragged away from Cobb, of Cobb being dragged away from him. Dance until his feet ache and he’s dizzy. More food than he’s used to. More drinks than he can tolerate, and falling asleep in a tent when he’s imbued too much with a pink cheeked Cobb next to him.

A few hours of sleep later and they’re back at it again for a more restful filled breakfast and relaxed conversation before finally, the festivities are over and people begin to head back to their business.

“Do you want to go home?” Din asks.

Cobb stretches and yawns, looking exhausted but content with his station in life. “You have read my mind.”

They walk down the street together, their clothes in a state of disarray before Din is leading him elsewhere.

“Babe, where . . .” Then it dawns on him and Din can’t help but smile. “No,” he says.

Din nods. “Come on. Let me show you to our home.”

Cobb is speechless when they enter the new partially buried house. He’s taken by how large it is, how high the ceilings are now, and how cool and inviting it is. Then he rushes forward to kiss Din and hold him close. “Oh, you are full of surprises.”

“Jo told me it’s a custom.”

“Well, not always a custom, but we pride ourselves on being able to provide.”

“Then let me provide for you.”

They kiss again, deeper this time until Cobb pulls back to rest their foreheads together. “Mm. As much as I’d like to christen this place, I’m bushwhacked.” Then he’s pulling Din into the bedroom where they collapse onto the bed as husbands, as riduurs.

…

“Hey, Din. You awake?”

Din stretches out on the bed and opens weary eyes to find Cobb kneeling on the ground next to the bed.

“What time’s it?” he asks.

“Afternoon-ish. Just went out to get some things from the old place, and, um, I guess now is as good a time as any to give this to you.” He sets a bundle of cloth knotted off with string on the bed before Din, and Din rises up on one elbow to look at it.

“You didn’t have to get me anything,” Din says, tugging at the strings.

“Yeah, well.” Cobb rubs the back of his neck, a nervous tic of his. “I felt like I had to for this one.”

In the cloth is an ornate dagger with its own leather sheath. When Din pulls the blade, he’s mesmerized with how the blade shimmers. A single piece that looks like it’s been carved from onyx.

“Cobb, I—” Then he sees the mark in the hilt of it.

The mark of his tribe. The Mythosaur skull. On the other side is the mark of the mudhorn.

He looks up to Cobb. “Where did you get this?”

“Well, I, I went to your clan.”

Din breathes out and sits up in full with the dagger in his lap. Cobb comes to sit on the edge of the bed.

“When you told me about your customs, and seeing your armour just sitting in our wardrobe for months, I wanted, I wanted to confront your clan. I know things are rocky between you and them, but I went in there to just speak with them at first. Then next thing I know, I’m sitting on the ground drinking tea with your matriarch.”

Din closes his eyes for a moment.

“And I don’t tell her everything, I don’t ream her out or nothing. I know you hold her in high regard. But I told her I was intending on marrying you and I wanted to do it right by you. No one else. So, she said she’d show me how to make something. And each time I visited, she’d ask about you and I’d tell her that, oh, you were a guest speaker in the school today, or you had fixed the power generators. And she’d tell me my smithy skills were shit and tell me to begin again.”

Din laughs. “Yeah, that sounds like her.”

“Then she asked me why I wanted to marry you. And I told her I wanted to spend the rest of my days making you happy, giving you everything you could ever need. And she said, he deserves it.”

He lifts his head to look at Cobb. “She said that?”

Cobb nods. “I think she misses you. She won’t say it, but she does. I think it’s just taking some time for her and some of the others to come around to this new world order of theirs. But next time I go, I want you to come with me.”

Din nods. “Yes. Yes, I’d love that. Thank you, thank you, thank you.” He kisses Cobb several times and holds him close with the knife on the bed spread next to him.

They don’t plan the trip out to Din’s clan for some weeks yet. They have a house to settle into after all. But then one day, they’re setting out on Cobb’s speeder. This time Din is wearing his armour with the knife at his hip. And this time they are facing Din’s clan together as one.

#dincobb #din djarin #cobb vanth #mandalorian #dincobbweek #dincobbweek2021 #dincobb week #star speaks #star writes

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diamaker-moon · 3 years

Text

Moving Forward - Chapter 3

Chapter Three

nervous gut feelings

—————

The last thought that ran in his mind before he drifted to sleep was, why did she transfer? Was she unsatisfied with her progress in her old school? Or maybe something happened?

'Who really are you, Marinette Dupain- Cheng?'

— previous chapter... —

Despite being the Kwami of Destruction, Plagg has his moments. And today he had one.

His chosen, Adrien Agreste, a famous model for his father's brand: Gabriel, is ranting. More likely whining.

Plagg was in disbelief when he heard about his chosen's ridiculous advice, which was to take the high road. he didn't like that sausage-haired girl from the beginning, sure he was proud that his kid did something to get the young guardian back to school, but only to bend her morals and stay quiet.

Plagg looked at his chosen who was busy skimming through the book they had found before that got his deadbeat of a father, akumatized, together with a tablet.

He was sad that he'll lose his Camembert stash, but he had already gave word to Tikki. If the Cat Miraculous stayed with him, he might turn his back on Ladybug and Paris, and they can't have that. Besides those gooey cheese in bread were delicious in Plagg's opinion.

"Hey, kid? Why don't you sleep already? You kept rambling earlier that you were tired remember?"

Adrien stopped before looking at his computer's clock. He was shocked that it had gotten so late. He was so engrossed in what he found in his father's office. His thoughts wandered back to a certain pigtail girl. He was disappointed in her for not following his advice and pitied her when her sketchbook got torned up by their classmates due to a misunderstanding. But Marinette was a talented girl, she can re-do it in no time! That was his belief.

And then there's the other pigtail girl in his life, Ladybug. He didn't attend patrol tonight, he was giving her time to decide between being in denial to herself or finally admitting she loves him. They were Yin and Yang, they were destined.

He sighed before making his way to his bed, and immediately falling asleep.

Adrien didn't sense a kwami moving towards him and removing the silver ring on his hand that turned black with a paw print once it was in the kwami's paws. Wayzz then places it far from him, before he returned with a silver ring, it was similar to the camouflage cat miraculous but was only a plain silver ring replica and placed it where the miraculous used to be. Picking the real miraculous once again, Wayzz saw a book and a tablet on top of each other on the kid's desk. When he took a closer look, he immediately went to Ladybug, hiding in a nearby roof, trying to calm herself after finding out that her partner was the same guy who left her to the pack of wolves in Dupont.

Wayzz gave the miraculous to the young guardian, who stored it in her yo-yo in the meantime, then alerted the girl about the Grimoire and the previous Guardian's missing tablet. Ladybug panicked but immediately made her way to the young Agreste's room. She was lucky that the window was open, she quickly spotted the book and tablet on the desk, grabbed them, and gathered a bunch of Camembert, per Tikki's request for Plagg, then she left the room not even looking back.

It was a lucky night for the Guardian. But an unfortunate one for the young Agreste.

When Adrien woke up in the morning, he was shocked that there was no Camembert smell wafting around his room, when he opened the mini-fridge cabinet for Plagg, he saw it empty and reminded himself to refrain Plagg from eating all the Camembert in one go.

While showering, he felt nervous. He didn't know why.

Even after he finished showering, there were no kwami who approached him. No Plagg around. It irked him, but he pushed it aside and thought that the kwami must be lazying around and hiding. But he was in a panic when he didn't find the book and tablet on his desk, soon he calmed himself down, then he reasoned with himself that maybe Nathalie had gone inside his room and saw it, grabbed them and returned them to his father.

It was the most logical reason in his head.

It was eerily quiet that day, and the nervous feeling he had hadn't gone by. There was still no Plagg. But when he looks at his hand, the ring of the black cat miraculous was still there. There's nothing to worry about.

Yeah. Nothing. Nothing at all.

—————

The weekends have passed, and there was still no Plagg. Ever since he gave Marinette's advice, his friendship with his kwami has been strained, but he paid no mind.

When he was about to go to school on a Monday morning, he assumed that Plagg had made his way towards his bag. He didn't check. The moment he arrives in front of the school, he noticed some of the students, looking at him before whispering to each other than leaving. There was another gut feeling. He ignored it.

He climbed the school's front steps and saw Nino and Alya talking to each other.

"Nino! Alya!"

The two of them looked at him, smiled and waved.

"They still have the audacity to smile?!"

"I heard the student council was in trouble! The reservations made by the Akuma Class' deputy were never reserved!"

"So we won't have a school event?!"

Those were the few whispers Adrien heard while walking near his friends. He tried so hard to ignore the ominous feeling in his guts. Looking around the courtyard, most students were glancing at them then whispered to each other while leaving. It made Adrien wary, even Alya kept glancing at the other students while her brows are furrowed, and Nino was confused by his schoolmates' current attitude towards them.

The trio ignored them, Alya started dragging Nino towards their classroom.

"Hey, guys! Aren't we going to wait for Marinette?" Adrien asked.

"Why would we?! She kept bullying Lila! She won't even be civil around her!" Alya shouted back.

She ignored Adrien's wince and kept going on their way. Adrien looked behind him towards the bakery across the street. He tried to wait for her but when it was only five minutes before the bell rang. He sighed and made his way to his classroom.

When he entered the room, he saw their homeroom teacher sitting on her desk with piles of paper on top of the desk. She looked stressed. Lila on the other hand was spinning her lies in her seat next to his supposed seat.

He sat down unenthusiastically.

'This is going to be a long day... I'd rather have Plagg complain about camembert right now!'

—————

Collège Françoise Dupont was in a frenzy, after finding out that Marinette has transferred schools due to the situation in her class.

They were saddened by the news that because of someone's incompetency to reprimand properly, the victim had to move on with her life. They sent her a private message on her social media accounts wishing her the best of luck at her new school.

When the bell rang indicating it was time for lunch, the other students of Dupont were purposely ignoring the reason for the Collège Françoise Dupont dilemma at the moment.

The whole Student Council was a mess, after finding out that the Deputy of the Akuma Class— Alya Césaire, hasn't made any reservations for the venue, catering, entertainment etc. for the school event. There were also no preparations for the venue's decorations. They were empty-handed.

The Drama Club was worrying about costumes for their play, some are wondering to do DIYs but others suggested going to Marinette's website and commission it. The website was created during her week's absence, in preparations for her career, she chose to hide her identity and be known as MDC the designer for MDC Designs. Only a handful from the drama club know about it and chose not to expose who the designer was outside the club, and most of the drama club members agreed and will look at the website then plan if it is fit their budget.

The Art Club was wandering the whole week when will Marinette come to the club and bring a bit of happiness inside the room, even their art teacher, was feeling down.

Some won't admit, heck even Chloé, was missing the ravenette.

Adrien was confused why everyone was ignoring them as if they were a bunch of pariahs in Collège Françoise Dupont. So he asked one of the other students what was happening. And due to his luck, he asks her— Aurore Beauréle.

"Uhm... Hey, can I ask why's everyone ignoring us?"

Aurore deadpanned at him. Everyone can see that Aurore was clearly annoyed just by looking at him, but the blonde clearly didn't get the memo.

"Haven't you heard?" She asked back in a cold tone.

"Heard what?"

"You're class... drove Marinette to transfer schools. All because of you guys." She said in an icy tone before passing by him then rest left him in the locker room— gaping.

Chapter 2 — Moving Forward: Masterlist — Chapter 4

#miraculousladybug #marinette dupain-cheng #moving forward #AO3 #class salt #adrien agreste

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namjooningelsewhere · 3 years

Text

British Jealousy.

Pairing : Kim Seokjin x reader

Rating : 18+

Genre : Lots of smut and little bit of angst and a lot of jealousy.

Warnings : A lot of jealousy, Unprotected sex, Smut

Word Count : 1776

Summary : You were fed up when Jin started almost avoiding you for a collab star of his and making you feel invisible when you were in a room with her. Sine you were secretly dating there was nothing much apart from giving him a taste of his own medicine. And exactly that happens when your equally handsome and sexy British Singer friend Stan arrives.

You were at the designers for the trial of the outfit for tonight's awards show, where you had a plan to be together with your boyfriend Kim Seokjin. But he was right here besides you but with someone else. It was the singer form his latest single Collab and somehow they had become inseparable since then.

It wasn't that you were jealous but somehow he had made it a point to rub it in your face that ongoing banter that he had with Lizelle. He did it on purpose or it was unintentional it was yet unknown to you.

You were losing your mind when they had started giggling giving random hugs to each other making it difficult for the poor designers to work it out. You glared at him but he didn't seem to take notice. You went to the trial room to try and he followed behind with his outfit.

"Having fun there, are we?" you said. Sensing the danger from your tone he meekly replied "Oh she's lovely i know but trust me its just a mindless bantering lee, I swear there's nothing more than that." "Okay" I said looking at him cautiously. It had been bothering you somehow that he had been acting all hung up on her, canceling on plans at the last minute and staying over late, Always having her besides him giggling, throwing hugs, telling her those dad jokes while fell at his chest laughing was something ypu just couldn't get over.

He pushed it under the rug saying we are just friends every time you bought it up had you driving you up the wall. It was not that he was cheating but pretending you didn't exist and bailing out on plans because she was there had you at the edge. You wanted to make your presence known, Let him know if he was going to act this way rather do it without you in his life. Would make it much easier with less thing to worry about.

"Lee, My woman you gorgeous little girl." You heard a booming voice across the hall, You forgot about your worries in a second seeing your very good old friend Stan standing right before you with open arms. You ran to him like a little girl and he swept you right of your feet enveloping you in a bear hug. "Stan My Man!!!!" I've missed you babe. You said still hugging him sideways.

Stan was your very good friend and he was a singer too and man that guy had looks that could get you drooling and worshipping the ground he walked. Lets say he was a perfect competitor for Mr. World Wide handsome. But you never saw him besides a friend and you shared a very healthy relationship with him.

You glanced at the mirror seeing a shocked Jin and Lizelle watching from their places. His expression had turned black since you wouldn't introduce him to Jin as you were secretly dating. "What are you doing here?" You asked still gleeful. "Oh i am attending the awards show tonight babe, You are right? " he enquired. "Of course i am sweetheart that's why i am here to get my fittings done, You say nudging him playfully.

He goes through the trials while you keep giving him compliments here and there. Strangely it was exact the opposite now, It was like Jin didn't exist in that room. It was lunchtime already and you were just looking for your phone to text Jin maybe you could introduce both of them, But you soon frowned when you saw the message that was already sitting in your inbox two hours ago.

"Babe, Guys are going out for lunch and have to take Lizelle with me. Make it up to you. xoxoxo"

Okay now this was the limit another cancellation, You didn't mind them as you were an idol too and sometimes it would become quite necessary but doing it every bloody time was unacceptable. You literally felt sorry for Jin as something cooked in your mind. You were going to get him good for this time. But you needed Stan's help with that.

"Babe I'm hungry, Lets go eat and I'm starving and besides we have a long lunch date pending. I am taking you for it, NOW" He said literally pulling you away from the room leaving almost ready to burst Jin. You felt bad but at least this was the way you had been feeling when he had been cancelling on you and going out with Lizelle for gods sake.

You sat opposite Stan in the restaurant chatting away, until he mentioned Jin. "So since when?" He asked. "Since when what?" You asked kind of ignoring his question. "Seokjin babe, That man would have killed me right there if looks could kill." He giggled but for sure looking for answers. "Been 2 Years but hes bit on a lets make her jealous spree" You replied curtly. "Oh lee, You're adorable when you're jealous". He said playfully pinching your cheeks" earning a playful scowl from you. "Well in that case Lets play along shall we?"

He was your wingman bestfriend confidante for a reason, He understood you very well. But tonight was going to be epic since your boyfriend who you loved to bits was going to get a taste of his own medicine.

Everybody was in a rush since it was the dday at the awards and your team was putting in together their best to move and work efficiently while the event. It was just some time left for you to start getting ready for the event before you decided to check up on Stan.

You were casually walking down the hall when you noticed Jin and the others sitting with Lizelle spread out on the couch. When Jimin called out to you, You just went to them to exchange pleasantries since you were on full fledge mission to avoid Jin for the rest of the evening.

"Where have you been Lee?" Jimin asked casually. "Oh right here just have a friend here from London so keeping him company" You reply eyes still looking for Stan. "Hey Sugar, Looking for me?'' Stan came right behind before he playfully pinched your cheeks. "Where have you been?" You ask. "Oh just making sure i had some one with me to accompany for the awards tonight you know, Might get lonely right there." He said looking at you fondly. You sweared you had heard something cough real awkward.

Since they knew each other, you didn't need to introduce each other. "So Stanie, Whos the lucky accomplice you're taking with you." Jungkook teased him. "Oh right here my gorgeous friend, Why would i look somewhere else when I have her right here?'' His response earned a hoot from everyone except Jin who looked like he was about to explode again.

You got ready for the event and you made sure you made no contact with Jin whatsoever for the rest of the evening. You reached the event along with Stan and were greeted by the media and he hosts. The event had been sailing smoothly until you went behind the stage to wish Stanie good luck for his performance.

You were yet to find his makeup room and walked close by to find it until you were pulled in one. "You were about to scream but a familiar hand held your mouth and you knew in a instant it was Jin. "What the hell?" you protested. "Really you're asking me what the hell? Am i invisible lee?" He asked anger fuming through him. You pretended as if you had no clue about what he was talking and that drove him even mad.

He pinned you to the wall and started to kiss you furiously, as if you were going to vanish right next minute and he needed to devour you asap. He nibbled your neck, marking purpled bruises quite clear. "Jin What the hell? these are visible." you retort. "I've left them there for a reason lee and don't you dare hide them, Let them be a warning YOURE TAKEN!!!! Nobody eyes my woman, He says kissing you hungrily while he kneaded your tits at the same time.

He turned your back against him and shifted your dress carefully before plunging himself right into you, Without a warning. You were already wet from the way he had kissed you. "Look at that, So wet. You are so wet for me baby, All you want is me to fuck you right ?' He hissed in your ears pounding from behind. This dirty talk was getting the better of you as you enjoyed the delicious pleasure go wild in your body before he increased his thrust right reaching your gspot. He was close and so were you. And this wasn't your adorable Jin making love to you, But this was the Jealous Jin fucking you who wanted to remind you, You were his and only his and boy you loved that.

He stared rubbing your clit roughly while he mercilessly drilled your pussy from behind and both of you came at the same time. He held you tightly to him before he started adjusting your dress for you. He looked up with a evil grin " Let my cum be where I've left it princess, and I'm going to make sure you scream my name for the entire building to hear, Looks like i have to remind you very properly today- Your mine Lee, Only Mine."

You didn't stop smiling for the rest of the evening as your plan worked but being more happy for the fact that he cared, He cared that you would be his no matter what." It was a relief watching him keep some distance between him and Lizelle. He had got the message alright.

You had a shit eating grin on your face, A Jealous Jin was a such a treat sometimes, Maybe you could try some Russian Jealousy next time:)

#bts smut #bts scenarios #bts imagine #bts x reader #jin #jin x reader #jin x you #kim seokjin #jin imagine #jin fanfic #bts fanfic #jealousy #makeupsex #your mine #mindless flirting is it

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lloydskywalkers · 4 years

Text

any port in a storm

Pixal and Lloyd and the evolving nature of friendship, as highlighted by the regular burning down of your city.

(desperately trying to break through writer’s block and classes again, this was supposed to be under 2k and it is...very much not hdfjkgh but! i’ve been meaning to write for Pixal and Lloyd for a while so here are a whole bunch of feelings about the two of them and s8)

Pixal meets — truly meets — Lloyd Garmadon shortly after his brother’s been blown to pieces.

She says truly, because if you ask her, Pixal will tell you she met Lloyd Garmadon at exactly 8:48 in the evening outside his father’s monastery, moments before a horde of nindroids led there by Pixal herself descended upon them.

But Lloyd argues that since they said about two words total to each other, it doesn’t really count as meeting, and by the time Pixal’s spending the better part of her day with him running high and low around Ninjago City, she’s learned that it’s easier not to press the point.

Lloyd can be stubborn, like that.

She’d first learned that when she’d met him, just after they’d lost Zane. That loss hadn’t lasted long, especially for Pixal, but the immediate aftermath of it had been devastating. She’d watched with blank eyes as the team had fractured, splitting at the seams as they all fled their separate ways, too heartsore and dizzy with grief to do much otherwise.

All of them had fled, save Lloyd. She hadn’t paid him much attention before that point, the surprisingly small bearer of the Golden Power. Of course, he wasn’t the bearer of that power anymore, but his eyes alone had shown the experience of it. There’d been a brief, lost look that had crossed his face as the others had mentioned leaving, before it had been swept under a mask of stubborn, determined blankness. He wouldn’t be leaving. Someone had to stay behind and watch out for things, he’d claimed, even as the loss had bled through his voice.

Pixal hadn’t quite grasped the concept of empathy at that point, but she’d felt something dangerously close to it.

At any rate, the only interaction they’d had alone was brief. In fact, the only one Pixal can truly remember — and her memory never fails — is the quick exchange they’d had in the hospital lobby directly after the battle. The hospital was for Mr. Borg, and for the ninja’s minor injuries.

There was nothing any hospital on earth could do for Zane.

Pixal had found herself next to Lloyd in the waiting room, trying to distract herself from those thoughts while Lloyd stared at the stark white tiling with dull eyes.

“They never mentioned what your power was,” she’d asked him, almost absently. Collecting data, processing information — anything she could do to distract from the crushing grief.

“Oh.” Lloyd had blinked, startling back into awareness. He’d suddenly looked painfully young. “It’s, ah, I guess it’s just green, now.”

It had been Pixal’s turn to blink. “Green.”

“Yeah.” Lloyd had bit his lip, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly, two habits he’ll never quite lose. “I mean — it’s more than that, but it’s like — energy, I guess, is the best way to put it?”

“Interesting,” Pixal had remarked.

“Yeah.”

They’d stared at each other in silence after that, before they’d both been called off to other errands — and then they were having Zane’s funeral and then Pixal was making realizations she never got to tell anyone, and that had been that in her early introductions to Lloyd Garmadon. Quiet, awkward, and possessing an incredible power he hardly even knew the name of.

Looking back, Pixal figures her introduction hadn’t gone much better.

They’d continued as passing acquaintances as time went on, separated by danger and the confines of Zane’s head, and Pixal had figured that’s all they’d ever be. But then their Sensei goes missing and, despite Pixal’s increasing disappearances on Zane as she rebuilds her own body, she’s been given the role of watching out for Ninjago city along with Lloyd.

She quickly learns that quiet is not a term fit for Lloyd Garmadon when you’re trapped alone with him.

************

“How is there not a single station playing actual music?” Lloyd seethes, flicking through the channels almost manically. “It’s two am, who’s gonna be listening to your stupid commercial for toothpaste now, are you kidding me?”

“Statistically speaking, this is the prime time for long-distance driving near Ninjago City,” Pixal supplies, her voice a hint scratchy where it comes through the his car’s radio speakers. “Or, if you factor in the construction in the east district, there could still be traffic from late-night bars.”

Lloyd groans, thunking his head against the steering wheel as another ad screeches through the small space. “Wonderful.”

“Your vocal tones suggest you find it otherwise.”

“Dont trust ‘em, my vocal tones are traitors.” As if to solidify his point, Lloyd’s voice cracks in the middle of his sentence, shooting up an octave higher. Lloyd goes bright red, and thunks his head against the steering wheel again.

Taking pity on him, Pixal aims for reassurance. “It is normal for your voice to break, Lloyd. It shouldn’t last too long.” She pauses, momentarily scanning through another article. “On second thought, this one suggests it could also take two to three years for your voice to stabilize.”

Lloyd gives a strangled moan. “End me.”

“Unfortunately, that would defeat the purpose of why I’m here in the first place.”

Lloyd tilts his head, cracking an eye open as he glances at the camera feed he knows she’s watching him from. “Unfortunately, huh,” he muses. “So you’re saying if Zane hadn’t made you promise to look out for me, you would end me?”

“That — no, that is not — of course I wouldn’t end you,” Pixal backtracks. An odd feeling flickers through her, almost as if she’s lost her place, floundering.

Or embarrassed might be more accurate, she thinks wryly. She briefly considers projecting a a glaring face at Lloyd from the monitor. This is his fault. She rarely stuttered before Lloyd started teasing her at all hours of the morning.

“I mean, you wouldn’t be the first,” Lloyd continues, conversationally. “And if we’re being honest, I’d definitely rather you be the one to off me, instead of like, random bad guy number eighty-five—”

“I know you think you are funny,” Pixal cuts over him. “But casually planning for your death is something Kai listed I was not to let you do. Also, it is not nearly as funny as you think it is.”

“Ouch,” Lloyd mutters, though he looks chastised. “Never mind, you just took me out in one sentence.”

Chastised might be the wrong term.

Pixal studies him through the monitor, then sighs. “I am, however, honored you think highly enough of me to offer the right to murder you,” she gives in.

She’s rewarded as Lloyd breaks into a bright grin.

He still looks painfully young these days, but it’s less obvious. His voice is pitching lower and he wears his hair different, and he’s gained a whip-like tendency to quip at people, as Pixal’s experienced firsthand. Kai calls it sass in grumbling but fond tones, and Nya calls it snark somewhere between the fourth book series she’s sent for Pixal to try.

The ninja have been kind like that, sharing the interests they have in an attempt to make her feel…well, more human, she supposes. Less confined to a voice in a computer. Of course, Pixal isn’t confined to a voice in a computer anymore, but they don’t know that yet. She’ll tell them someday soon, she promises herself. Any day now.

In the meantime, it’s easy enough to keep up with Lloyd by lurking in his car radio, as he spends half his time in there anyways.

************

“You’d think we’d have found their hideout by now,” Lloyd notes, as they wait in a darkened alleyway again. It gives them an excellent view of the major highways, so if the rumored biker gang does show up, they won’t miss it.

If they show up being the key point.

“Whoever their leader is, they certainly know how to keep a low profile,” Pixal answers, closing out another dead end police report in frustration.

“It’s weird,” Lloyd says, propping the notebook he’s sketching in on his knee as he squints at the paper. “Normally the boss types aren’t this quiet. They like to show off, y’know? Make a big scene, dramatic speeches and all.”

“Are you referring to the villains, or yourselves?”

“Touché,” Lloyd snorts. “But still, you gotta admit it’s weird they haven’t even made any demands. What’s their end game here, elaborate advertising for motorcycle design?”

“I would hope not,” Pixal says. “Their color coordination is lacking.”

Lloyd fights back a smile, his pencil scratching as he shifts his notebook again. “I don’t know, I kinda like the punk look.”

“I noticed that, when you tried to redecorate the car.”

“Hey, skulls are cool.”

“They are also conspicuous, especially when they come in acid green colors.”

“Everyone’s a critic,” Lloyd sighs, making a face as he scrubs the eraser across the paper. Pixal tries to tilt the camera further, to see what he’s drawing tonight, but the angle he’s holding it at remains just out of sight.

She could probably guess what he’s drawing, if she tried. The notebook is one they’ve been steadily working their way through on these late-night patrols, the pages filled with little hangman games and Lloyd’s sketches of animals and his teammates. He’s drawn her a few times from memory, and she’s been tempted to ask him to draw her in the new Samurai X armor more than once.

Soon, she tells herself.

“What are you drawing?” she finally asks, curiosity getting the better of her.

Lloyd’s cheeks tinge pink, and he quickly plasters the notebook to his chest, hiding it entirely from view. “Nothing.”

Pixal waits, letting the silence fill with her judgement. “Lloyd, I have seen your drawings before.”

He doesn’t reply, and Pixal tries again. “It gets boring, being stuck with the car monitors for eyes.”

“I know you can hack other cameras,” Lloyd mutters, but he sighs, relenting as he turns the notebook over. Pixal’s eyes rake over the detailed sketch — it’s a comical little thing of her and Lloyd, jammed together on a tiny lifeboat in the middle of a darkening ocean. She can spot the smudges where he’s redrawn her head several times, and the numerous attempts he’s made at his own hair. Pixal studies Lloyd’s portrayal of himself, which is noticeably lacking in facial features. While Lloyd draws the others plenty, it’s a rare occasion that he draws himself, and she can’t help but be curious.

“I thought you were drawing the others again,” she admits.

“They’re on the ship,” Lloyd says, absently. “I’ll draw them when they remember to pull us back in.”

There’s nothing bitter in his tone to suggest it has any bearing on their actual lives, but the lost expressions Lloyd ends up giving their tiny caricatures feel familiar nonetheless.

“Zane has assured me they will be back as soon as they can,” Pixal speaks ups quietly.

Lloyd finally looks up fully, and flashes the monitor a smile. “I know,” he says. “So we better have this thing busted by the time they do, or they’ll never let us run a city on our own again.”

“If only we were truly running the city,” Pixal grumbles. “I could do a better job in two days than the current leaders could do in a year.”

“I’d vote for you,” Lloyd says, sincerely.

It’s a sweet gesture, but Pixal is unable to resist. “You don’t know how to vote.”

“Yes I do, it’s not hard!”

“Really? Then why are you not currently registered in the Ninjago voting system?”

Lloyd makes a strangled noise. “That’s a thing?”

She’s unable to keep the smugness from her voice. “I make my point.” Lloyd scowls, and scribbles a mustache on his drawing of her in revenge.

Pixal thinks it looks nice nonetheless.

************

She can’t really hold it against Lloyd for talking as much as he does, considering she does the same. It gets dull, sitting on patrol for hours on end, and there are only so many hours of light reading they can do before the silence begins to drive them both insane.

Pixal finds herself talking about more useless things with Lloyd than she has in her existence, pointless conversations in circles with each other. She also finds she doesn’t entirely mind. She’s become quite good at quipping back and forth with him, at least. It’s different than the kind of talk she has with Zane, lacking in the depth of feeling with the love they share. Her exchanges with Lloyd are lighter, though that’s not to say they’re less sincere.

For example, Zane hasn’t tried to teach her how to redesign a gi in poor lighting in the early hours of the morning because he’s bored out of his mind, that’s for sure.

“I’m teaching you how to sew,” Lloyd corrects, wincing as he accidentally stabs himself with the needle. “And I’m not redesigning the whole thing, I’m just adding some designs to spice it up.”

“I did not know you were allowed to wear colors other than green,” Pixal comments.

Lloyd pauses, squinting at the monitor. “You’re teasing me,” he finally says. “You’re making fun of how much green this gi has in it.”

“I would never,” Pixal replies, her tone flat and even. “The intricacies of your human humor evade me—”

“Human humor, nice—”

“—unlike the unusually bright shade of green you’ve chosen will fail to evade any eyes of your enemies.”

“I knew you were making fun of me!” Lloyd accuses, then flinches as he stabs his finger again trying to point at her. “And bright colors are our thing. Being subtle is, uh…not. Usually.”

Pixal is losing the battle to laugh at his expression by the minute. “I am shocked.”

Lloyd glares at the monitor, shifting his sewing to rest on his knees as he slouches in the car seat. “How’d you even get so good at sarcasm, anyways,” he mutters. “Zane still doesn’t get it half the time.”

“Perhaps it is part of my glowing personality,” Pixal says. Lloyd gives a huff of laughter, relenting.

“Fair enough,” he says, shifting in his seat again. “Fine, you win. The green is probably too bright, but that’s not the point. I’m gonna show you how to do a backstitch."

Pixal falls quiet, letting Lloyd gesture with the needle as he explains. There are a hundred, a thousand tutorials she could pull up online, digitized knowledge instantly learned on all the countless types of stitches she could use, sorted and categorized in neat columns of use and effectiveness. All of them more detailed, more easily understood than Lloyd’s absent rambling and unsteady hands as he struggles with the end of a knot.

Not one of them will care whether or not Pixal learns the odd way Zane likes to loop his stitches, or will quietly add which stitches knit skin back together quickest.

So Pixal ignores her programming, and does her best to follow Lloyd’s rambling instructions, watching as his scarred fingers tug another thread of dull gold through the green mess of fabric, the city quiet around them.

“You never did tell me where you learned how to sew,” Pixal says, as Lloyd starts up a new thread of black on the other side of the gi. “Was that something the others taught you in training?”

“They’d have to know how to be able to teach it,” Lloyd snickers. “And, uh, no. I taught myself to back at Darkley’s.”

“Oh,” Pixal falters. She’s heard about Darkley’s, both from Zane and the legal reports she’s read online. Neither gave a positive impression of the place. Her mind is suddenly filled with images of a younger Lloyd trying to give himself stitches, and her heart twists.

Lloyd starts, seemingly having picked up on her train of thought. “I mean, I did it for fun, mostly. I like sewing,” he explains. “It’s useful. You can pull things back together, and fix ‘em.”

Pixal is quiet, but she hopes Lloyd takes her silence as agreement with his motive. She likes to think he knows her well enough for that, by now.

************

Pixal finds, somewhere during their fourth month alone, that she’s glad the team elected to stick her and Lloyd together. Not because she doesn’t want to be with Zane — there’s never a moment she doesn’t miss him, and with every day that passes her resolve to keep her secret from him grows weaker, as the longing for actual connection grows stronger.

But there are conversations she can have with Lloyd that she can never have with Zane, and the dangerous thing about spending time with Lloyd, Pixal finds, is that they’re more similar than she’s realized.

“Sometimes I think I’m jealous,” Lloyd whispers to her one night. It’s one of the bad ones, the ones where their enemies struck too sudden to stop, and the mission ends in the hospital. “I think I’m jealous of Zane, and I hate myself for it.”

Pixal is quiet, trying to pick apart the tone of his voice in the words he’s just spoken, and factors in the victims they’ve just left behind at the hospital. She finds herself no closer to an answer.

“Is it the metal skin part?” she finally asks, though she knows that’s wrong. “The, what was it, technical immortality?”

“No,” Lloyd shakes his head. “I’m not afraid of dying,” he says emphatically, his fingers fluttering at over the steering wheel, tapping incessantly with unspent energy. “I don’t want to, but that’s — it’s not what I’m scared of. I’m more scared of how I go out.”

He swallows, and his fingers move to dance over the woven bracelet on his wrist instead, twisting at the tiny beads and tracing senseless designs in constant, steady movement. It’s a motion he does often, and it had puzzled Pixal at first. She’d decided to write it off as an odd tick, a way to spend excess energy.

Now, she recognizes the desperate kind of reassurance that movement gives. She understands too well the need to remind yourself that you can move — that your body will obey you and you alone.

Pixal thinks back to the other factors in tonight’s accident, of the way the drugged man’s eyes had cleared when they’d finally turned him over to the police, the way he’d sworn he’d never do such a thing in his right mind. She thinks of the way the first victim had thrown themselves over their companion.

That victim hadn’t made it to the hospital.

“Ah,” Pixal says, quietly.

She’s silent again, and she thinks back to when she’d met him, the very first time. She recalls the way her programming had rebelled against her in favor of the Overlord, corrupting her body and forcing it against her, twisting everything she was and wanted to be into something different.

She thinks back again, to the searing-hot anger, the terror, the despair as she was torn apart, piece by piece like a machine, burning out at the whims of another. Her end purposeless, her demise belonging to someone else, just like every other part of her.

She thinks of the last glimpse she’d caught of Zane, bright and beautiful as a supernova. Burning with the terrible brilliance of his own, determined choice. Terrible, because the death of something always is. Beautiful, because it was his own. Zane died, not a machine, not a weapon, not a tool of anyone or anything, but as himself. Zane died to save the ones he loves. Pixal could’ve died for spare parts.

Never again, she promises herself. If she goes out, she goes out on her own terms. This time, they choose the end of their own destiny themselves.

In hindsight, it’s the kind of promise they’re both too young to make, but neither of them have ever seen themselves as such, and promises like that are easy.

“Love can be terrible, sometimes,” Lloyd murmurs. Pixal watches him scrub at the blood on his uniform, and thinks how ironically well-timed it is that he finished the stitching on his new gi this morning. “Sometimes I forget how ugly it can be.”

************

The end of their nighttime stakeouts begins with a break-in at Mr. Borg’s tower. Lloyd argues that she should get to call it her father’s tower, if she wants, but the ninja aren’t the only ones Pixal’s hiding herself from.

And then Lloyd gets very tense at the thought of fathers very fast, and they never finish the conversation.

They stay at the edge of the bridge long after the parachute, emblazoned with the unmistakable visage of Lloyd’s father, disappears from sight. Pixal wonders if it’s burned into Lloyd’s eyes, like the way she’s read black spots linger in humans’ vision after they’ve looked at something too bright. The way Lloyd stares at the river, his shoulders tense and his teeth worrying at his lip, she thinks she might be right.

They’re waiting on the report from the commissioner —they’re waiting for anything, anyone who can offer them any explanation of what’s going on. Pixal’s reminded of how much she loathes this kind of waiting.

“It could be—” Lloyd begins, then breaks off, his voice wavering. He swallows, and Pixal can see the way his fists clench tightly from the cameras they’ve put in his car. There’s a fierce part of her that longs to reveal herself, to meet his eyes herself and offer some semblance of comfort. But there’s a time and place for things, and Pixal isn’t ready.

“It could be anything,” Lloyd finally continues, his voice small. “It could — it doesn’t mean anything. It could mean nothing, right?”

Pixal is silent, her mind racing. She’s run the calculations over and over in her head already, scouring the internet for anything related to the bikers. She’s been foolish, she realizes — they both have. Letting the gang go unnamed for so long, thinking nothing of it. Now, with the name flashing vibrant across Pixal’s vision, a part of her wants to let them go nameless just a bit longer.

Before she can answer, Lloyds phone goes off with a sharp ping, just as Pixal’s sensors alert her to the message from the commissioner. Lloyd snatches for his phone like it’s on fire, and Pixal’s already scanning the message frantically, as if she can salvage this if she’s fast enough, save Lloyd from this one pain.

Lloyd’s gotten much better at reading quickly though, these days.

She can pinpoint the moment he reaches the last paragraph, because his breath hitches. There’s a long, pressing pause of silence, Lloyd’s hands trembling as they clutch weakly at his phone. Then it’s punctured by a reedy, wheezing gasp, and Pixal’s suddenly wishing she’d revealed herself after all.

Instead, all she has is her voice as Lloyd crumples, crouching over in visible distress. Pixal’s mind races, recalling everything Zane’s ever told her about his team, the way their panic manifests in different shades. Lloyd’s is quiet but desperate, rapid breathes that stutter as his eyes slide more and more into a frightening kind of blankness.

“Lloyd, please, listen to my voice,” she begs, trying to reach him in the only way she can. “Please, you have to breathe—”

“He’s gone,” Lloyd rasps, unhearing of her words. “He’s s’posed to be gone, it’s supposed to be over, I’m supposed to be done—”

Pixal fights back the sense of overwhelming helplessness. She knows loss. She knows how to finish his sentence. He’s supposed to be done grieving, done mourning, done clinging to false scraps of hope that his father isn’t lost forever only to be met with heartbreak.

And now, to be met with the possibility of something so much worse.

“We’ll stop them,” she tells him, unflinching. “We won’t let it happen.”

Lloyd’s eyes are a vivid green where they stare at her through the monitor, almost ghostly in the misting light reflecting from the river.

He’s silent, but Pixal is, too.

Pixal remembers the way her head had spun when she’d first picked up the traces of Zane in the system, how the world had rushed then steadied, flooding with color as she’d realized he might not be lost after all. She remembers the surging, overwhelming flood of joy, that someone she’d thought she lost might live after all. She remembers being so happy, at even the smallest chance to get him back, because the voice was Zane’s, without a doubt.

She watches the color seep from Lloyd’s expression as his shoulders shudder, the words from the commissioner’s message almost echoing through the air. Watches the terror as the both of them fill the silence.

Will we?

The radio scratches, as if echoing Pixal’s anxiety. Love can be terrible, sometimes. She’s underestimated how it also be so cruel.

************

She’s also, apparently, underestimated how the universe on the whole could be so cruel.

She should’ve revealed herself to them from day one. That way, when Harumi’s corrupted programming suddenly ravages through her like an electric shock, she could be reassured they’d at least be familiar with the person they were fighting.

Instead, she doesn’t even get to scream. Pixal’s only able to force out a desperate, broken warning before she’s lost again, drowning in her own body as she’s forced under. Furious panic grips her as she screams without lungs, bashing herself against the overwhelming helplessness that’s taken over her.

Not again, not again, not again—

Her limbs creak and jolt against her will, lashing out at the people she cares most about, and Pixal can’t even rage back in her own voice. She’s sworn, she’s promised herself she’d never let anyone do this to her again — she’s sworn she’d die before she let someone reach into her head and snatch control away, and yet here she is, frozen as her body’s used to target her friends.

If she could cry, she might.

There’s not much more to say than that. She breaks free, her body her own once again, but by then it’s too late.

************

If Pixal had the same gift of foresight that Zane did, maybe she would have seen it coming. Maybe she’d have remembered how similar her and Lloyd are, and that this kind of pained desperation always yields impulsiveness and mistakes.

She doesn’t, though. She barely even manages to do what she’s trying to, which is convincing Lloyd to join the others while they celebrate their victory. Their off-key singing is something he normally wouldn’t hesitate to join in on, she thinks, and she hates Harumi a little more.

Maybe she’ll try his mother next. The expression on Lloyd’s face screams unapproachable, and remains fixedly sullen.

Almost to her surprise, he meets her eyes as she draws near— it’s odd, being able to meet his back — and his own eyes are dark, from despair over Harumi or despair over his father, Pixal isn’t sure. She’s thinking it might be both, when his eyebrows crease, and a flicker of concern cuts through them instead.

“You good?”

It takes her a moment to realize why he’s asking, but the answer is obvious. Her head tilts downward, and she watches as her fingers curl and uncurl. Her movements, her choices. She lets out an even breath.

“As I can be,” she replies. Lloyd nods, and his eyes are understanding. His lips twist in a scowl.

“She shouldn’t have done that to you. That was a low blow.”

Pixal’s mouth curves into a humorless smile. “That it was. She’s rather good at those, isn’t she.”

Lloyd’s eyes shadow again, and he looks away, crossing his arms. “This isn’t supposed to be about me,” he mutters.

“Yes, it is,” Pixal counters. “It is why I came over here, in the first place. She hurt—”

“All of us, and who’s fault is that,” Lloyd snaps, his arms crossing tighter.

“I would hope you know it’s hers,” she says, holding firm.

Lloyd looks away again, biting his lip, and Pixal shifts anxiously, rolling her wrists. The sensation of control sliding away still haunts her, worse than it had the first time. She should be better than this, she tells herself hotly. She’s lived without a body long enough that losing it so briefly shouldn’t effect her this much.

Curse her programming, she thinks, tapping agitatedly at the banister. She knew she should have reinforce it sooner.

“Hey, um.” Lloyd is looking at her again, hesitant. He twists at his bracelet, and his eyes lose a fraction of that darkness. “Kai made this for me, after Morro,” he says. “I kept shredding the sleeves of my uniform, so he told me to mess with this instead, when I needed to remember that…that I was in control.”

He shrugs, hesitant. “We could make you one too, if you wanted. It helps, having something.”

Pixal lets out a steady breath, despite not actually needing to. The action is grounding, she’s found. “I would like that.”

Lloyd gives her a ghost of a smile in return. “Soon as this is over, then.”

There’s a heavy weight to his words, and Pixal’s eyes narrow.

“Lloyd,” she says. He looks at her, his eyes dark. “Don’t do anything foolish.”

He’s quiet, not meeting her eyes, and this is where Pixal should stop him. This is when she should see the end of the road they’ve been on since they started this, and force him to turn before it’s too late.

“I know what I’m doing.”

She doesn’t.

************

Lloyd is battered and bleeding by the time they drag him onto the ship, a gruesome portrait of cruelty. Pixal is frozen as she watches him writhe in Kai’s hold, his screams cracked and wet as he thrashes erratically like a broken thing.

Nya is already barking orders before they’ve even gotten Lloyd fully on the ship, and Zane is running scans with a horrified, wavering focus. Pixal follows Cole as he carries Lloyd to the medbay with a blank numbness, the rush of wind streaming past the Bounty sails thunderously loud in her ears.

This isn’t Lloyd, she thinks, staring at his crumpled form. Lloyd isn’t this battered, broken shell of a person. Lloyd isn’t hazy eyes that fail to recognize them and frantic murmuring through bloody lips. Lloyd is bright-eyed and gentle and would rather die before he screams the way he does when Cole moves him to the table.

Lloyd is her friend, and this is where that promise they made has led them. She knows why Lloyd set out for the prison, hot on the collapse of his own star. She also knows he wouldn’t have chosen to burn out like this.

Cole calls out for Zane, his voice ringing in panic as Lloyd screeches in pain again. Pixal thinks of quiet words in the safety of his car, and she feels sick. This is the ugliness of love, the terrible, hideous side of it.

And Lloyd would hate it, if he could see himself, if he were any semblance of lucid. He’d hate to know just how much better he was at breaking himself than Morro ever was.

Zane is gentle as he pushes past her, but Pixal can feel the tremble in his hands. He’s every bit as rattled as she is, if not more so — Zane’s heart is larger and softer than hers has ever been, and he cares about each and every one of them with a painful intensity. It’s a cruel thing, to have to pull those same people back together with your own hands.

Kai’s eyes are streaming as he clutches at Lloyd’s wrists, pinning him in place. Zane’s hands waver again over one of the jagged wounds near Lloyd’s ribcage, the green of his uniform already dyed dark in blood, soaking over the careful stitches Pixal watched him put in himself.

Pixal finally finds her footing, reminding herself of the solid wood beneath her feet. She recalls the steady, smooth stitch Lloyd’s scarred fingers traced out for her.

“Here.” She takes the needle from Zane’s hands, squeezing his briefly before letting go. “I can do it.”

She sets the needle against Lloyd’s skin and wonders what kind of stitch it’d take to pull your heart back together.

************

Pixal cannot cry. It’s one of the features Mr. Borg spent hours debating, weighing the pros and cons of giving her the ability before he was truly sure how rust-proof she was. He’d never gotten the chance to, as the Overlord had interrupted him, then Pixal had lost any body to give the ability to cry to, which had eliminated the need entirely.

She cannot cry, but she can hurt, and the rain that streams through her hair, dripping down her forehead spotting raindrops on her cheeks, could be tears if she pretended.

She doesn’t, though, because tears are a waste of water and overall useless in the grand scheme of things. She doubts they’d have helped her fare any better in the battle with Colossi, either.

Tears won’t bring anyone back.

Lloyd cries anyways. She can’t see him, but she can hear it in his voice, the way it wavers and breaks over the radio, nasally tones pronounced.

He’s barely able to gasp a few coordinates to her before he cuts the radio off abruptly. Pixal’s spent enough time with him to envision his scarred fingers snapping it off with a particular desperation, green sparking from his hands in distress.

She reminds herself those sparks are gone, now, bled away into nothing like the vivid green of Lloyd’s eyes had. The thought makes her sadder than she’d expected. She had a joke, about his eyes, she had wanted to make. Now that she has a body, and her own set of glowing green eyes, she’d — there was something he would’ve laughed at, she thought —

It doesn’t matter, now. Neither of them are likely to laugh anytime soon.

The coordinates blink brightly in her vision, and she’s almost surprised she managed to key them in. She’s running on autopilot, she supposes. It could be ironic — she’s been so desperate for control, it’s been so important that she’s the one feeling. Now, she’d give anything not to feel at all.

She lets out a shaky breath, dispelling the mist in her vision left from the rain. She leans forward, just over the edge of the building she’s crouched on, and her loose hair falls forward, silvery and synthetic and horribly tangled. Irritated, she reaches for another hair tie, and her hands falter around her wrist.

Lloyd had promised her a bracelet there. But he’d promised Kai would make the bracelet, hadn’t he, and Kai couldn’t make the bracelet if he was dead, could he.

Pixal blinks, her breath hitching. She’s been so numb to the pain of Zane’s loss, it hasn’t yet occurred to her that she’s losing Kai, too. And Jay, and Cole, and—

She sucks in the same shuddery kind of breath she’s seen Lloyd do, and carefully fists her hand in the area of her uniform above her chest. Her fingers dig in tightly, clutching in a hopeless attempt to feel some sort of comfort she knows she’ll never find.

But perhaps, for these few seconds, she can pretend the action is holding her together.

************

“It was inevitable,” Pixal tells Lloyd blankly, as he rasps out his third apology in the dark cover of their small hideout. “That one of us would fall, eventually. It had nothing to do with you.”

Lloyd swallows thickly. “It could’ve — it should’ve been—”

He doesn’t finish, but he doesn’t need to. Pixal’s hand shoots out, clamping tightly around his wrist, and there’s a beat of gratitude that she doesn’t need to rely on her voice alone anymore.

“Don’t.” Her voice is strung tighter than the tension in their shoulders. “You cannot change anything. You can’t, Lloyd, and you should not wish to — to change it that way.”

Lloyd jerks his hand free, wiping miserably at his eyes. He sets it back down within her reach, though, and if Pixal were any different, she’d take it.

But Pixal isn’t that different from Lloyd at all in the end, and neither of them reach for the other’s hand, no matter how desperately they crave the contact. Fear is more familiar, and it’s easier to give into it than it is the clawing need for comfort in your chest, after all.

“Still,” Lloyd finally whispers. “Still.”

Pixal swallows. She doesn’t disagree. If one of them had to fall, she knows she gladly would have taken it upon herself. She knows the others care for her, certainly, but she also knows her place in the grand scheme of things. They were six before she came along, and even now she’s kept far too many secrets to be fully counted among them.

She listens to Lloyd’s quiet, cracked voice, and she wonders if he’s thinking that they were five before he came along, younger than Pixal got to know him as.

Now they’re three, hollow and heartbroken. Though counting herself as one whole feels like cheating, right now.

Pixal squeezes her eyes shut, and wonders what it’s like to cry. Perhaps it helps, though Lloyd doesn’t look any less miserable.

************

“I was thinking,” Lloyd tells her, during one of the precious few quiet moments they have while trying to overthrow Garmadon and Harumi. Pixal’s turning the tiny tea flower he’d given her over in her hands, a part of her mind already marking articles about flower-pressing, another part wondering if it’s already too late to save the blossom. “About that promise we made, before all this.”

Pixal finally tucks the flower into the pocket of her uniform, pressed close to her chest. If anything, it can be a reminder of the lives that are safe — the life that’s coming back to her, if she has to drag him back from another realm herself. “And?”

Lloyd’s hands twist together. “Maybe we should focus more on staying alive.”

Pixal coughs out a laugh, breathless and startled. Lloyd wrinkles his nose at her, but his eyes are amused, even with their light lost. “I mean, the emphasis would be on keeping everyone else alive, but it’s kinda hard to do that if we’re dead, so…yeah. Priorities.”

“Staying alive should always be a priority,” Pixal corrects him, but she tugs the edge of his armor out of place with a smile.

“Why didn’t you teach me how to graffiti?” she nods at the designs on the green leather. “Or was this another Darkley’s tradition.”

“This is a refined art, called whatever I had on me that showed up on dark green,” Lloyd grumbles, fixing his armor. “I’ll teach it to you when we get out of this.”

“Another reason why staying alive would be a more productive focus,” Pixal points out. “I’ve heard teaching is easier when you’re alive.”

“And I’ve heard you’re a real riot,” Lloyd mutters. “It’s a promise, okay? I promise to teach you how to do cool armor design if you promise not to disappear into another realm on me.”

Pixal nods, adjusting her own armor tighter as screams ring out from a street nearby. “A promise, then.”

She keeps both the promise and the flower, the tiny blossom dried and faded by the time she’s escaped from the prison, heart racing with leftover adrenaline as Zane sweeps her into his arms. She clutches back every bit as tight, listening to his breathless laughter as cheers rise from the streets behind them, the smoke drifting across the early morning sky above them pale against the lightening blue. Pixal buries her face in his shoulder and breathes, tucking the moment away in her heart where it won’t fade. There’s a future stretching out before her, and she’s got the limbs to walk her path on her own, but all she wants right now is the steady ground beneath her feet and the bright laughter of what she’s managed to keep.

Lloyd meets them shortly after, his own promise kept as he tears his gaze from his father, handing him off to the authorities before sprinting for the others. Pixal barely snags a moment alone with him, and even then no one’s particularly keen on letting him out of their sights.

He meets her eyes as they pick their way through the wrecked streets, the city more alive around them than it’s been in weeks. In the dark of the early morning, Pixal’s eyes glow a bright green, reflecting oddly in the windows they pass. It’s always been her preferred color, in contrast to Zane’s bright blue. Lloyd glances at her, his own eerily green eyes glowing back. He bites his lip, but it’s to hold back real laughter this time.

“My eyes were green first,” she tells him.

“Sue me,” he shoots back, before Kai’s throwing an arm over his shoulders again, tucking Lloyd neatly in between him and Nya. Pixal smothers a laugh at the look on his face, and tightens her own arm further where it’s linked firmly in Zane’s.

It’s going to be an easy promise to keep, she thinks.

#lego ninjago #ninjago #lloyd garmadon #ninjago lloyd #pixal #there was a point to this but it got lost in pix and lloyd do arts and crafts #either way i'd die for both these characters #ninjago where is the pixal love i miss her #my fic

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hinatastinygiant · 2 years

Text

Chapter Thirty Two

Pairing: Mitsuya x Fem!Reader

Wicked Games Masterlist

For the night of the rehearsal dinner, you had asked Hakkai to give you a ride since your bike is absolutely demolished. He agreed and explained that along with him he will also have Yuzuha and Mitsuya.

You step yourself into a pretty ruffle dress you found laying in the back of your closet just in time before the doorbell rings. When you're ready, you walk over to the door and open it up to see Yuzuha's bright smile beam on the other side.

"Oh my God, Y/N, you look super cute!" she gasps as she takes your hand and spins you around. She's got on a knee-length light blue dress that looks just like something Mitsuya would design.

After the two of you exchange compliments, you look past her and see Mitsuya through the driver's window. He's closely watching the way you move as you show off your dress to your friend.

Once you grab your belongings and lock your door behind you, Yuzuha begins to lead you towards the car. "Do you think you could talk to Takashi tonight?" she hums in a whisper.

"Huh? I'm not ignoring him or anything... Did it seem like I was?" you ask worriedly.

"No, no, it's not like that. He's just been kinda... down lately. I'll explain more later," she tells you as she opens the car door for you.

You slide in and smile at the two guys in the front while Yuzuha shuts the door. Then, on the way to the dinner, all you and Yuzuha can talk about is how exciting it is that Emma is actually getting married. It makes you happy that you're able to be genuinely excited for your friend without having guilty thoughts plague your mind any longer.

When you arrive on site, a new, modern-looking brewery, you are absolutely awestruck. The inside is lined with green and pink flora throughout the walls and furniture while four round, wooden tables are spread out across the private room you're walking into.

The first people you meet are Emma and Draken. Emma squeezes you tight and whispers a "thank you for all of your help and support" while the hug you give Draken is still somewhat awkward. However, the compliment that he gives you causes your cheeks to swell and heat up.

"Thank you, Y/N. I really appreciate how you did your best to look out for me even after I called you a traitor. Like Mitsuya said, we really should have put our faith in you more," he breathes.

"It's nothing," you smile up at him as you pull away.

You're then suddenly ripped away from him as Yuzuha takes your hand and guides you over to an empty table. The second you sit down, an employee comes by and places two champagne glasses before you.

"Thanks," Yuzuha giggles as she accepts the unexpected drink.

"Thank you," you hum as the employee nods and walks away. Almost immediately, Yuzuha takes a sip from one of the small glasses. "Do you think it's a good idea for you to be drinking?" you ask, a bit worried that she might get carried away after the insane week she just had... Not to mention that this was supposed to be her rehearsal dinner.

"Please, Y/N," she sighs. "With the week I had, I need it."

"Just don't go too crazy, alright?"

"I won't," she promises. "But if you're going to be worried about someone, you should worry about Takashi. He's been staying over at my and my brother's house since the incident. The worst part, though, is that he hardly says a word.

She then takes a second to look around before lowering her voice into a hush. "I've been trying to comfort him as best I can, but I don't know what to do. I thought maybe you could get him out of this funk. Maybe you even know what's bothering him."

"I have no idea," you admit to her. All this time you thought that he was the one comforting her, not the other way around.

Just then, Hakkai sits down beside Yuzuha with a glass of wine and a big smile across his lips.

"Woah, look at you Hakkai," Yuzuha teases. "Plan on getting wine drunk?"

"No. I'm going to drive on the way back so it's just this one glass for me," he nods before taking a sip from the glass.

"What about Takashi?" you ask. "He drove us here."

"That dude needs a drink more than anyone else. I mean look at how worked up he is over here," Yuzuha nods to him behind you.

The three of you look over and see Mitsuya desperately attempting to talk to Mikey, who's just not having it. Could they possibly be having the same conversation you wanted to have with Mikey?

"I'll go talk to him," you tell the two of them as you rise from your seat. "I'll be right back."

You walk over and interrupt the conversation between Mitsuya and Mikey with an innocent "Hey, guys. What's up?!" Something that sounds totally fake considering that the last time you saw Mikey he almost punched your lights out.

The two of them both look back at you with a deadpanned expression, as though you really did just walk in the middle of a weighty conversation. However, you do your best to act as though you're completely oblivious to it in the hopes that maybe you can casually ask Mikey the questions you're yearning to ask.

Mitsuya nods. "Uh, hey, Y/N."

"What're you guys talking about?" you wonder politely.

"Nothing," Mikey shakes his head. "The conversation was over."

"No, wait, please," Mitsuya calls to Mikey as he grabs his shoulder, a gesture that makes you stiffen in fear. "Mikey, I really need to know."

"What's, uh, goin' on?" you chuckle nervously, wanting to hear the answer as well.

Mikey looks directly at you as he chooses to ignore Mitsuya for his own benefit. "The Second Division Captain needs to get it through his head that the incident from the other day is over. Hanma got rid of Chikao for us and Kisaki is gone. It's over."

With that, Mikey ripes his shoulder out of Mitsuya grabs and walks off.

"What was that about?" you ask Mitsuya who sighs in disappointment.

"Something's off about Han-" he begins, only to stop as he looks over at you. At just about the same time, an arm wraps lazily around your shoulders. You look to your side and find Hanma hovering right above you.

"Hey, you two. What's goin' on?" he grins. Mitsuya narrows his eyes at Hanma. "Calm down, dude. We're cool now, I've righted my wrongs. And Mikey, Emma, and Draken are all fine with me being here, so you should be, too. Besides, I missed my inconsiderate little girlfriend who didn't ask me for a ride tonight."

Your blood begins to boil but evaporates into thin air as Hanma pats you on the head before just casually walking off. Mitsuya, however, still looks as though he'd love to punch him again.

"You got a second?" you then ask him, secretly hoping to calm him down a bit, too. "It's been a few days, I think we should catch up."

He collects his breath as he turns back to you and nods politely. "Yeah, that sounds good."

Wicked Games Masterlist

Taglist: @darkmess0 @wakasa-wifey @plaggi @daiserenade @lunastellanova @sseorin @jinchuriki-hunter @sh4gree

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moriarty-bibliotheca · 3 years

Text

—✧ ❝𝐢 𝐰𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐢'𝐦 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞❞ ✉

— 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 ✉

𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒏 𝒔𝒂𝒚𝒔: hello, if you don’t mind - I’d like to request a story where the reader is catching it BAD for Albert but that goes direCTLY in contradiction to her bad bitch independent woman thing so she keeps trying to push it down but unfortunately he just happens to be in love with her and is 100% ready to take that wall down as smooth and kindly as possibly sliding into her dms?? If that makes sense??

❝ 𝐚𝐥𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐭 𝐣𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲 ❞

— 𝗳𝗲𝗺𝗮𝗹𝗲! 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

— 𝗻𝗼 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀

— 𝗺𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗮𝗶𝗻 𝘀𝗽𝗼𝗶𝗹𝗲𝗿𝘀!

— 𝗴𝗿𝗮𝗺𝗺𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗰𝗮𝗹 𝗲𝗿𝗿𝗼𝗿𝘀 𝗮𝗵𝗲𝗮𝗱!

☎ 𝒃𝒊𝒃𝒍𝒊𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒚'𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔: why hello, dear! this request is adorable i hope you like it! i really had fun writing this, thank you for waitinggg! <3 a note to new readers, please check the request status before sending in a request, i have linked it in both my bio and the rules! thank you! now go ahead and check the story out~

“Y/N,” said Louis as he approached you, “brother wishes to speak to you.” You nodded at him and walked your way to the lounge where William usually is, you sat at a chair across from him as you waited for the male to speak up. “Oh,” finally taking notice of you, William placed his newspaper down and faced you, “there’s a ball tonight, you’ll be coming with us.”

Well, that was a surprise. “Your dress is in your room,” said William as he smiled and leaned back on his chair to continue reading, “brother Albert will be there.” There he is again, teasing you about Albert as if you had any feelings for the older male. You scoffed as you rolled your eyes and stood up, “I’ll be going only because you told me to.”

The blush was evident and of course, William noticed this. He gave you a smirk and cooed an ‘okay’ before letting you leave and head to your room. Somehow, he knew about your hidden feelings for Albert even if you did not tell anyone about it, this man sometimes scares you with the amount of knowledge he has.

You huffed as you entered your room, the heat on your cheeks slowly faded away as you spotted the beautiful dress that you were supposed to wear for the ball tonight. Is this a mission or is it just a normal ball? You couldn’t tell but, you weren’t one to complain. You looked at the (chosen color) dress as the skirt flowed down to the floor, it was pretty long and you reckoned you might trip by accidentally stepping on your dress.

The intricate designs on the fabric were well-made, you could say you liked this dress and the Moriartys went out of their way to tailor this for you. You noticed a folded piece of paper on your bed, it must’ve arrived with the dress, you picked it up and unfolded the letter to read its content.

“Y/N,

The ball will be at Lord Oliver’s estate, I’m sure you’ve heard of him since you were paying attention during our meeting. You will be attending with us, make sure to bring your tools and hide to where no eyes can see, burn this letter right away once you’ve read it.

- WJM”

Ah, so it was a mission after all. You folded the letter and burned it using the fire of your candlestick that was placed on top of your study table, you threw the ashes away and started preparing for the ball.

Minutes later, you decided to relax at the lounge and have some tea. You left your room and went to the kitchen to prepare some tea for yourself for you did not want to bother Louis into making one for you, you hummed a soft tune as you poured yourself some tea and grabbed a few snacks to nibble on, and placed it on a tray.

You carried your tray to the lounge and set it down on the table, you sipped on your tea as you grabbed a book that was placed on the table. You enjoy your alone time as your eyes were stuck to the book and your mouth was filled with hot tea. what a lovely “me” time. isn’t it?

“Fancy seeing you here,” the voice immediately made you stop your reading process and choked on the tea by accident, you weren’t expecting anyone to see you here and if ever someone did, why would they scare you like this. “I’m sorry, did I scare you?” asked the voice, your intense gaze shifted from your notebook to the person who dared to distract you from your self-time.

“Albert,” you said as you let out a sigh and continued on reading, you heard his footsteps getting louder as he walked closer to you and sat on the chair beside you, you felt your heart beating louder and your focus on the reading material was slipping away, you ignored it as you cursed to yourself to stay calm.

“Are you coming to the ball tonight?” asked the older Moriarty as he looked at you, it was almost like he was observing you. You dared not to have eye contact with him and continued reading your book, despite your quick beating heart, slight sweaty palms, and pink dusted cheeks. You almost thought you were ill. is there something about Albert that made you feel sick every time he’s around?

“Yes,” you replied, you tried to keep your conversation short as you were starting to feel like your heart was about to burst out of your chest, you took note of how wonderful his scent was, but you couldn’t tell what perfume he was using. You cleared your throat as you distracted yourself from your thoughts and tried to focus on reading, he just stayed there as he eyed you with a smile.

You were starting to wonder why he was just smiling at you, you broke your gaze from the book as your wonderful eyes met his emerald ones, his smile grew a little as you raised a brow. “Why are you smiling?” you asked, he shook his head as he leaned on the chair and heaved out a sigh, “nothing.”

“I just saw something beautiful,” added the male as he looked at you from the corner of his eye to see your raw reaction. Your blush darkened and he noticed, your brows furrowed as your lips formed into a pout and huffed, you continued looking at the book to distract yourself despite the ineffective means of distraction.

Albert chuckled as he stayed there, you wouldn’t admit it, but it was nice to have some company even if it’s just sitting in silence together. While Albert was enjoying the silence with you, you were sitting there staring at the word “love” that was engraved on the piece of paper, your thoughts mindlessly took over you as you stared at the book.

Was he flirting? He kept sending compliments lately and while they were sweet, you were also a little confused. There was no way he liked you more than a friend, it’s not like you would want to pursue a relationship with him either way. You were fine on your own and you were contented, you don’t need a man to make you happy.

So then, why is he making you feel otherwise? Even the slightest mention of him drives you on the edge, you’re immediately interested in any conversation that involves him and you tried not to make it obvious. You let out a sigh as you tried to push away your thoughts and go back to reading, he must’ve noticed that you were stuck on page 29 for the past 10 minutes now.

Hours have passed and it was already time for you to leave for the ball. You grabbed your choice of weapon and strapped it around your left thigh, you made sure it wasn’t loose enough for it to fall, but not too tight to make you feel uncomfortable.

Your hair was styled in a neat and beautiful updo with a few loose strands of hair by your ear, your dress perfectly hugged your beautiful figure, and your choice of heeled shoes were comfortable to walk on and the color perfectly complimented your outfit. Once you were ready, you left the room and went to the front gates to where the three brothers were waiting, they smiled upon seeing you as Albert walked closer to you and held his hand out for you to hold on to while stepping inside the carriage.

You thanked him as you sat inside the carriage with the other three following afterward, they complimented you and you did the same in return. The whole ride was quite silent, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Suppose, you all already knew what you are supposed to do once you stepped into the huge estate of the earl that was hosting the party.

A few minutes have passed and you have arrived, you entered the huge ballroom with the brothers and looked around the area. You were amazed despite being to several manors before, the shiny items in the room were eye-catching and the chandelier made the entire room so bright in contrast to the night. The four of you separated ways and went on their own and enjoyed a little bit of their time without being suspicious, you stood nearby the window as a waiting staff approached you and served you some snacks and drinks, you thanked them and grabbed one glass of wine.

You sipped on your drink as you stood at the corner alone, you didn’t bother mingling with others for you were doing well on your own, you weren’t planning on randomly talking to some strangers anyway. Your eyes scanned the entire ballroom and your eyes first landed on William, he was seated at a table a few feet away from you, he was also enjoying himself with some drink and looking around, waiting for the perfect time to execute the plan.

Next, your eyes landed on Louis who was not too far from where William was sitting, the younger Moriarty was standing at a nearby corner and observed the host of the party whilst one bloke was trying to have a conversation with him. You can already feel Louis’ desire to be left alone.

You tried to look for the older Moriarty, but you couldn’t spot him among the huge crowd of upper-class ladies and gentry. You let out a soft sigh as you gave up on searching for him, you weren’t exactly worried for he can take care of himself. I mean, he is a fine grown man.

You continued sipping on your wine and minding your own business until you heard the waltz music start to play, it wasn’t the usual fancy waltz melody for it seemed to give a little bit of dark masquerade vibes, but you did not mind; you liked it. You did not want to dance so you continued sipping on your wine while looking out the window.

“May I have this dance?” It seems like you were going to end up on the dance floor so long as some fancy bloke took an interest in you, you let out a sigh as you placed the wine glass on a table and shifted your gaze to the man who dared to disrupt your time.

Once again, it’s Albert. He seems to be disrupting your “alone time” a lot, you didn’t mind though. You nodded at the male as you took his hand, he smiled at you as his hands intertwined with yours and his other hand stayed on your waist, you placed your other hand on his shoulder, but did not dare to initiate eye contact for you knew your cheeks will end up red again.

You started dancing to the sound of the music that echoed across the room, he retracted his hand from your waist and used it to grab your chin to make you look at him, your eyes immediately landed on his beautiful emerald ones, he smiled at you as he placed his hand back to your waist. Your cheeks were dusted in pink and you hoped it won’t be noticeable with the make-up that you have just applied, your eyes stay locked with his as you two continued dancing through the night.

It was like nobody was around, nobody mattered at this moment, it was just you and him. The music was long tuned out and all your focus was him and only him, he pulled you closer as you continued dancing. Being this close to him was unintentionally making you nervous, while you did think that you have no feelings for this man that you were dancing with, your mannerisms were saying otherwise.

Your heart started beating a little fast, you weren’t feeling uncomfortable and in fact, you were enjoying your time with him. You stood close to the male as you continued dancing to the beautiful melody, your eyes stay locked with his as you once again took note of his scent. His scent was heavenly, it makes you forget about everything and wished to dance the night away.

“Y/N,” called the male in a soothing voice, “are you enjoying the night?” You nodded as your eyes stay locked with his, he smiled at you and continued dancing with you without knowing that his two brothers were observing you a few feet away. “You look absolutely breathtaking,” mumbled the male, you blushed and smiled at him as you spoke, “thank you, I do think you look quite fit.”

You were being friendly, at least, you think so. There was no way this is considered flirting, he was just being nice.

After the dance was over, he excused himself out of the ballroom with you and stayed on the balcony. You looked out and eyed the beautiful scenery that was illuminated by the street lights and some darker places were a bit visible by the moonlight, you watched as the leaves of the tree danced to the wind, the townsfolk walking their way back home after a busy day, and some stores closing up for the night.

Albert stood next to you as he observed the same scenery that you were admiring, you looked at Albert and asked him why was he out here with you. to which he replied, “I wanted to watch the stars with you.” You stayed silent as you stared at him for a bit before continuing on your admiration for the view, the past few minutes have been silent as usual, but the silence wasn’t uncomfortable as it feels safe for you to be with someone you know in this elegant ball.

“You’re beautiful,” said Albert while his gaze stared at the sky, you did not dare to face him and continued admiring the view. “You said that earlier,” you said as you watched the twinkling stars up ahead in the sky. “I will say it over and over to remind you how stunning you look in my eyes,” is he teasing you right now? Well, you’re not having it.

“I’m well aware of that, Albert,” your response was deliberately cold, but it didn’t seem to affect the male at all. My, he seems to be even more interested instead of feeling offended like most blokes do when talking to a confident woman. “I’m glad you acknowledged it yourself,” you let out a hum as a response and continued observing the view of the city from the balcony. “Aren’t you going back inside?” you asked the male as you took notice of how he was standing right beside you and tagging along with you.

“And leave you alone? No,” said Albert as he looked at you, your gaze remained on the view of the city and tried to brush off his stare. “I can take care of myself,” you answered as you let out a soft sigh and looked at him, he was smiling at you, and at this point, you have no idea why he kept on smiling around you.

“I’m well aware of that,” his smile never left his features, does he not feel pain for smiling all the time? You stayed silent as you looked at him, he let out a soft sigh before looking back at the view. “I wanted to spend some time with you,” confessed the male as he looked at you from the corner of his eye, you blushed a bit as you tried to ignore his gaze.

Despite the evident blush, you wanted to know why he was sticking around you so much and went as far as complimenting and teasing you with every chance he gets. “Why is that?” you asked, the male did not expect you to ask for an explanation and you can tell from his sudden reaction. He let out a chuckle and said, “it’s not my fault that I fell for you.” Are your ears playing tricks on you? Perhaps it was your mind? There was no way you heard Albert confess to you.

“What?”

“It’s not my fault that I fell for you, you tripped me.” My, the man was being a little bold with his remarks, the blush on your cheeks darkened as you tried to ignore his gaze and think of a perfect reply. “Are you joking?” you asked in surprise, you wondered if he intended to let you know his feelings or if he was just joking around.

“I do not jest, my dear.” His eyes were now on you as you stood there, shocked from what was happening, he grabbed your hand and kissed it without breaking the eye contact. “I’m glad to have spent the night dancing with a beautiful lady like you,” said he, you did not know what to say and you tried to think of the perfect response, but nothing seems to come to your head.

“It’s time for us to get inside,” said Albert as his eyes stay locked with yours, you nodded as he offered his arm for you to hold, you wrapped an arm around his as you returned to the hall and walked back to where you were originally staying.

As you arrived at your station, you looked at Albert who smiled at you and never seemed to break his gaze away from you. “Till then, my lady.” He winked as he placed another kiss on your hand and stood straight, he was about to walk away until you grabbed his wrist and said, “I’m glad I spent the night with you too.”

He looked at you and smiled, “I would give you a kiss, but I’ll reserve that for when we get home.” He gave you another wink before walking away to William whilst you blushed and tried to distract yourself by drinking another glass of wine.

☎ 𝒃𝒊𝒃𝒍𝒊𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒚'𝒔 𝒄𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒆: thank you for the amount of Albert requests! requests are still closed so please do wait until they are open before you send in anything! i have already stated it in the rules to check the status before requesting! <3 thank you so much, love! i hope you enjoyed! come back again! we’re always open for a good read <3

#yuukoku no moriarty #yuukoku no moriarty x reader #moriarty anime #moriarty #moriarty the patriot #ynm #ynm x reader #mtp #mtp x reader #albert james moriarty #albert james moriarty x reader #albert moriarty #moriarty the patriot x reader #moriarty x reader #x reader #x female reader #anime x reader #憂国のモリアーティ #moriarty bibliotheca

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boldlyanxious · 3 years

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Dance 10

Apologies for the long update delay. I'm easily distracted.

Masterlist for dance like no one is watching

All fic masterlist

Alya and Marinette spent all evening together. Marinette met her straight from work and they went to all the specialty fabric stores in Paris. They compared samples of lace and beading as well as all the color variations available. Rather than stopping for dinner they had appetizers at the nearby restaurants that catered weddings to help get an idea for the wedding.

Alya was giddy. When the places heard that she was looking for catering for her wedding, they were more than willing to help her celebrate. Alya kept trying to get Marinette to drink more with her. She was trying it but Alya was in a celebrating mood by the time they went to the last place. Marinette dragged her out and they filled up on street food since the appetizers hadn't really been very filling.

Alya kept a constant stream of plans and ideas flowing out of her about just what she wanted the wedding to be like. Marinette kept her sketchbook close so she could help keep track of them and doodle any design ideas. There were far too many samples for Alya to have picked just one yet but Marinette was getting a good idea of what she liked so she could help direct the focus of next trip a little better.

They were getting ready to split off and head home when they passed by Andre who was closing up for the night. They decided to be his last customers and he was delighted to hear that 2 more of his customers were happily in love. He requested pictures of the happy couple for his collection.

While they ate the lovers ice cream Alya for Marinette to talk about the new man in her life. She was delighted to hear about how they met and how they had been doing since. Marinette told her all about the time they had spent together and the shock of learning that his family now owned the company she worked for.

"Only you, Marinette." Alya said laughing.

"I know. My life could be a TV show."

"At least you are better than you were in collége. Can you imagine trying to work when you couldn't talk?"

"I already lived that with school work. No thanks." Marinette laughed at the image in her head.

They soon headed there separate ways with plans to see each other again. If not just them, they were planning to get together with old school friends soon and celebrate the happy couple.

---

Marinette had probably stayed out too late with Alya but she still felt pretty good and was in a great mood. She always felt great after they got a chance to catch up. Since she had been busy with the show and commissions and Alya had been working hard at her job, it had been too long. Also she was going out with Jason again tonight so her mood couldn't really get any higher.

She headed to Tim's office to see what he has called her for and he had her shut the door behind her. That didn't seem great. She would expect him to give her instructions and then have her move on. The work atmosphere had been tense despite reassures that there were no expected staff cuts. Marinette closed the door and turned back to where Tim gestured for her to sit. She didn't know him well yet, but she thought he seemed a bit apprehensive too.

"Marinette, I'm sending you on a fake errand to get you away from the office," he said.

"It's something happening? Are you firing me?" she asked.

"No. No, I'm doing this badly. You are great. But Jason is unexpectedly going back to Gotham for a bit. He probably messaged you."

"I've not been on my phone since arriving."

"He wanted to see you before he left. I thought you might feel the same but that you might not want to meet at the office."

Marinette nodded. She had a million thoughts in her head. She didn't know if he would be coming back or what it would mean for them. She really liked him and he seemed to help the same but a new romance would probably not survive extended long distance. She knew it would be a possibility eventually but so soon was jarring. Tim seemed to understand but he ignored platitudes and handed her an envelope.

"This isn't technically requiring the security of being hand mailed rather than the usual courier, but it's close enough. Just send it before you return from lunch and it's a legitimate reason to be away from the office."

---

Jason cursed his luck. He hadn't been overly excited about doing business in Paris but he went anyway. They knew the business decisions were not his forte or preference so they didn't expect much of him except getting a basic understanding. So being called away from Paris would but have been a big issue. His work in Gotham was far easier for him to manage because he knew what he was doing and he was good at it.

He didn't want to leave Marinette. He was half tempted to try to get her to go with him but he expected he would be very busy in Gotham for a bit and it wouldn't necessarily be safe. She probably wouldn't want to anyway. She wouldn't be happy just to sit around and wait for him while he used his access to the Wayne fortune to pay for everything. She had a life and plans in Paris and he couldn't ask for her to give it up.

He got up to meet her at the door of his hotel room when he heard her knock. He opened the door and pulled her in. He pressed her against the door as he kissed her desperately before she had a chance to say anything. They were breathless when he pulled back. She wouldn't let his pull away. She buried her face in his chest and wrapped her arms around him.

He guided them over to the bed and sat down. He pulled her close and tried not to count down their minutes together, preferring to enjoy them while they lasted. She shifted to pull back from her clinging hug and he kissed her forehead before they separated. He immediately missed her arms around him so he lifted her to his lap and then laid back into the bed so she lay on his chest.

She kissed him soundly before laying against him to cuddle. They laid like that for all the time they had remaining. She was a against his side with her head and hand resting on his chest, one leg thrown over his leg. His hand rested against her hip occasionally running it over her side or arm. They talked about everything they could think of except for what this would mean for them. Neither one wanted to bring up the subject.

They moved slowly when it was time to leave. Marinette pulled at a tear in his motorcycle jacket.

"What did you do here to tear through such good leather?" she asked

"It's old. It snagged on something. It's still works fine though."

"Let me measure you. I'll make you a new one."

"You don't need to do that."

"I'm a designer. I'm going to make you things. It's just who I am," she pulled out her measuring tape. "It will only take a moment."

She took slightly longer than usual. Her fingers traced over his skin gently. He seemed to realize her reluctance to pull away so he pulled her close and kissed her again. It was passionate and desperate and far too brief.

A sob caught in her throat when they pulled apart. She tried to keep it in. She didn't want him to remember her in tears. All the emotions she had been avoiding through their time together crashed over her and he held her close.

"I don't want you to go," she took a breath before asking the avoided question. "What is going to happen now?"

He kissed her forehead and then looked into her eyes. His hands held her face as he spoke.

"I have never wanted to stay in any place as much as I want to stay here right now." He placed a gentle kiss on her lips before continuing. "I know we met recently but you mean a hell of a lot to me. I will be back as soon as I am able."

She pulled herself up to kiss him and then she left. She forced herself not to look back because she would either beg him not to leave it to take her with him.

Did not mean to make it quite so sad at the end. But to be fair I just write the scenes. The characters make all the decisions

Tags

#maribat #jasonette #boldlyanxious

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jetaime-jespere · 3 years

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Prompt #15

#15: Don’t Tempt Me

Smut.

A special thank you to @sweetsecretskeptinside for the inspo pic (and the 3:30 AM conversation that led to this little thing)

In 7.21, Emily says, No, I don't have a fear of owning stuff. Turn me loose in a shoe store, I'll prove that. So, we know she loves a good pair of shoes. Well, what would happen if Emily were in fact turned loose in a shoe store, only to come home to a curious Aaron?

Aaron is about three quarters of the way through a basketball game on TV when he hears the door open, announcing her arrival. “I’m back,” Emily calls through the narrow hallway, keys jingling from her wrist as she closes the door behind her. “Aaron? Where are you?”

He hears the thump of her shoes coming off, the soft swish of her jacket being hung up. He smiles, because even though it’s only been a few hours, he’s much happier now that she’s back. “In here,” he calls over the hum of the game as he finishes the last of the beer on the end table. “Watching the game.” Not that he actually cares too much - but there isn’t much else on at the moment, and it’s been just a little too quiet.

“Someone had a busy day,” Emily says in jest when she takes in the sight of him sprawled across the couch, while taking note of the spotless living room with appreciation. All the toys normally strewn about are cleaned up and tucked away, blankets neatly folded on the back of the couch. There’s a bag dangling from each of her slender wrists - two long white handles, brown and nondescript, with elegant white lettering across the side. Emily sets both down next to the couch, coming up next to him and looping her arms around his neck. “Hi,” she murmurs, kissing the sharp ridge of his jaw. “I’m sorry I’m so late getting back. Traffic outside McLean was awful.”

“That’s Northern Virginia at rush hour for you,” He quips, looking slightly amused, because she was supposed to be home almost an hour ago. “Did you have fun shopping at least?”

“Yeah,” she says casually, settling on the couch beside him, draping her legs over his lap. “It was crowded though. You’d think it was a holiday.”

“Get anything good?” Aaron massages her ankles, trying to appear interested in whatever she’d purchased. She’d gone out with JJ and Penelope a few hours before, giving him a few hours to run some desperately needed errands. There’s hardly any food in his fridge - they’ve been slammed with cases one right after the other for the last two weeks - and his place was in dire need of a cleaning. With Jack at a friend’s house for the afternoon it was perfect timing, but he’s expected back home at any time. There are dinner plans to figure out; Aaron promised his son the three of them would watch a movie, one that Jack gets to pick.

“You could say so,” Emily says coyly, reaching for the magazine in his hands. She flips through a few pages, even if her attention isn’t on it at all. Instead, Aaron feels her stare from across the couch, the subtle shift of the weight of her legs in his lap. The smile on her face and the lift of her eyebrows tells him she wants him to ask just what she got.

He relents, because her insistence has his interest piqued, and he wonders just what could be so fascinating about a standard day of shopping with JJ and Penelope. It’s something they do fairly often, sometimes coupled with drinks and dinner, or sometimes with brunch. Those trips usually end with her slightly tipsy, something he finds endearingly adorable. And while he still isn’t completely comfortable with the fact this his name most definitely comes up more than once, he looks past it now. “What did you get?”

“Some shoes.” Emily says casually, with a slight shrug. “I didn’t see much else.” But she’s reaching for the bags on the floor, the brown paper crinkling under her fingers. “Want to see? You think you can tear yourself away from the TV for a few minutes?”

There are two boxes in Emily’s lap. Both are brown, matching the bag, with the same logo embossed in the middle. Each box is wrapped with a red ribbon on the ends, and he frowns, thinking the whole presentation is a little … ostentatious.

But she’s already undoing the ribbons, popping the lids off the boxes. The first box contains a pair of high heels, black, with high sharp heels and an unnatural looking arch. They look ridiculously uncomfortable, yet something tells him she’d pull them off without question. The other pair are even less than practical - a pair of slingbacks with bows on the back, with even higher heels. They look like the kind of shoes that could break an ankle. And yet she’s watching him intently, gauging his reaction with an expression that he might label as pleased.

Where the hell would she ever wear those? His mind starts to wander with possibilities, and it dawns on him they’re not supposed to be practical. They’re fuck me shoes. “Are they supposed to …” Aaron blinks with confusion as he studies the ridiculously impractical pairs of shoes, nestled in wrapping paper, both with red painted soles. “Are the bottoms supposed to be red?”

Emily laughs lightly, and Aaron can’t help but wonder if this is one of those things he’s just somehow supposed to magically know - not that he knows remotely anything about womens’ fashion. Haley’s taste in clothes had always been relatively practical, and given their line of work, he can count on one hand the number of times he’s seen Emily actually dressed up, much to his chagrin. “It’s the designer’s trademark, Aaron.”

He narrows his eyes with confusion. “Red soles?”

“Mmhm.”

“But no one sees the soles of your shoes,” he points out logically. “Besides, don’t you have a few other ones that look just like this?” He isn’t quite sure he sees the need for multiple pairs of black high heels that basically all look the same, even though the more he stares at the shoes, the more he can’t help but think about what she’d look like wearing these particular pairs.

“So? Emily looks very pleased with herself. “They’re an investment piece, Aaron. Christian Louboutin is timeless and classic.”

“Christian Lou - what?” He completely butchers the word Louboutin, struggling with the French pronunciation that seems to roll off her tongue so easily. Emily laughs softly, patiently pronouncing the word again, and then again. Something about hearing her speak French makes his mouth go dry, and he swallows thickly as she neatly wraps the shoes back up in the boxes.

Something else catches his eye - the pricetag - and he makes a conscious effort to keep his jaw firmly closed. “Emily,” he says evenly, even though he’s certain he’s seeing an extra zero he shouldn’t. “Tell me those shoes were not seven hundred dollars.” He pinches the bridge of his nose with disbelief, a slight shake of his head. “You bought two pairs.”

“Actually,” she says with an air of indifference. “The ones with the bows were seven hundred. The others were on sale for six.”

“Six hundred dollars for a pair of shoes?” He sounds incredulous, probably because he is. He’s no stranger to the fact that Emily was raised with an abundance of wealth and with that, probably comes some appreciation for the finer things. And not that he cares one bit about how she spends her money, but the thought just seems completely absurd to him.

“You know,” she begins slowly, batting her eyelashes with a mere shake of her head. “I’m sure you’d appreciate them more if you saw them on me.” And then her fingers drop to her shirt, beginning to undo the top button, then the next. “What do you think?”

It’s his turn to smirk, the slightest lick of his lips with his tongue as he meets her gaze with a look in his eyes that matches her own. “What are you -”

“Daddy?” The excited voice coming from the foyer tears them out of the moment completely, and Emily practically bolts off the couch in surprise, as if they’ve been caught doing something they shouldn’t. Shit. She hurriedly buttons her shirt, taking a few precautionary steps away from Aaron out of habit. Jack is still hanging up his coat, chattering animatedly about his afternoon, running through a rather long list of potential movie options. Aaron gets up from the couch, pecking Emily on the cheek with a slightly apologetic look. “Next time?”

“Next time,” she agrees, practically purrs in his ear, pressing her body up against his. She stands on tiptoe to kiss his cheek, letting her teeth scrape against his earlobe as she disappears with the boxes in her hands, putting an extra sway in her hips along the way.

…

“Not here,” Aaron tells her for the third time, this time more firmly. They’re milking drinks at a roundtop table in the middle of an ALS Benefit a few days later. They’re there for Dave, like every year, and for some reason, he’s just not feeling it tonight. It’s warm in the room, he doesn’t feel like dancing, and not to mention, Emily has been goading him since they arrived.

“Come on,” Emily coaxes him with a wink from across the table, a glass of red wine in her hand. “You’re no fun, you know.”

“In case you haven’t noticed, our colleagues happen to be in or around the vicinity of this room.” Aaron takes a sip of his drink, this time downing most of the glass. The drinks are a little too strong, the music is a little too loud, and he’s already having trouble concentrating on anything, thanks to the fact that Emily has stayed within his line of sight almost all evening. It’s intentional, that much he knows. The rest of the team has dissipated, spread out amongst the crowd, mingling with the other guests. He knows they should probably do the same. After this drink, he tells himself.

“But I’m wearing the shoes.” It’s the way she says it, locking her eyes with his. But he already knows - he’d noticed as they walked into the hotel two hours before.

“Don’t tempt me,” he hisses just a little more forcefully, wishing he had a fresh drink to occupy his hands. “We’ve got another two hours at this thing.” He’s doing his damn best to keep his eyes forward instead of staring at her, but that’s getting harder. She’d decided on the black dress after a careful deliberation, showing him the various options she’d pulled from the depths of her closet. They’d barely made it out the door on time.

“There’s plenty of open rooms,” she tries again. “Nobody will notice we’re gone.” As if to prove her point, Emily tips her head in the direction of the band, where Strauss and Dave are all but tearing up the dance floor. “Look at them.”

Aaron nods, stifling a laugh in his fist. “Sometimes I still can’t believe they’re together.”

“It’s been going on for years,” Emily snickers. “Dave used to think he was subtle about it. He wasn’t. But good for him.” She tips her head back, exposing the side of her neck. Something inside of him snaps, his mind made up, because before he can stop himself, he’s wrapping his hand around her elbow, giving her a gentle shove through the crowd of people.

“Aaron, what are you -”

“Let’s go,” he growls in her ear, pressing a hand into the small of her back to lead her closer to the door. It’s risky at best and a bad idea at the worst, but what the hell? He thinks, leaning forward to get a trace of her perfume on the back of her neck.

Emily grins to herself, her eyes locked on the door just ahead of them, and she’s grateful for the dimmed lights in the ballroom - no one will even notice they’re gone. The hallway is hushed quiet compared to the booming of the music on the other side of the door, and they stare at each other for a brief moment. “Here,” he says, taking her hand. There are multiple closed doors that lead to empty conference rooms; Aaron leads her to the one at the far end of the hall.

“I thought I wasn’t supposed to tempt you.” Emily flutters her eyelashes, her fingers lingering on his face as she slips past him through the doors. This is a bad idea, they both think, not for the first time, and yet, neither of them are about to put an end to it.

“Too late.” Aaron closes the door and adds the lock for good measure, spinning on his heel to face her. Emily licks her lips, backs up until her back is against the wall, all but cornering herself as he nearly rips his own suit jacket off, throwing it against the table. He’s eying her almost ferally, staring at her legs and the damn shoes. His jaw is set in determination as he moves toward her. “I’m going to take you apart.”

Damn, Emily thinks, her eyes widening as Aaron gets a hand around her waist, pulling her into him. He bypasses her mouth entirely, going right for her neck. She gasps as his teeth drag over her skin, his hands impatient as he goes for the zipper at the back of her dress.

“Don’t rip it,” she breathes, arching her back as his fingers dance down her spine, pulling the little metal tab down to the small of her back. “It was expen-”

“Shhh.” He covers her lips with his own, smiling a little when she moans into his mouth, her body bowing into his. Aaron gets his hands around her hips, walks them back and around until he can lean her against the large credenza in the corner, pulling the dress down over her shoulders. Her breath hitches as the cool air hits her skin; it pebbles as his hands slide around to work the clasp; it snaps free in one go.

“I’m impressed,” Emily drawls with a grin as it falls away.

“This isn’t my first rodeo, you know.” He leans her back even further, going with her as her back hits the top of the table. He takes one breast in his mouth, alternating the pressure of his mouth until she keens into the air, her hands pulling at the fabric of his expensive dress shirt. Emily gets a hand in his hair, urging him to keep going. He switches to the other breast, repeating the same pattern with his mouth. “You’re perfect,” he breathes, cupping his hands around her jaw when he stands straight to kiss her again. “So perfect.”

Emily smiles, already starting to work the buttons of his dress shirt. “There’s lipstick on this,” she murmurs, finding the imprints of her lips on the collar. “I guess we weren’t very subtle earlier.”

“I don’t care.” He gets the shirt off his shoulders, then lifts her up just enough to get the dress past her hips and over her head. She’s left in nothing but those damn shoes that make her legs look endless, and some impractical, lacy underwear that matches the bra that’s now discarded on the floor. He stands back to look at her, an equal mix of adoration and lust. It takes little effort to lift her up, setting her on the top of the credenza, coming to stand between her legs. He runs his hands over her thighs, down her calves, closing around her ankles, admiring her, smirking when he sees the shoes again. Emily rests on her elbows, watching as he kisses the insides of her knees, her stomach quivering with effort to remain semi-upright.

“The shoes,” he says as he props her legs on his shoulders, watching her for a few moments. “Stay on.”

All she can do is nod, her heart fluttering in her chest as he tugs on either side of the lace at her hips, dragging it down over her legs. On the pile it goes, and when she’s finally completely bare before him save for a ridiculously expensive pair of high heels, her legs bent around his shoulders, does she seemingly realize where they are, her eyes sparkling. “If anyone hears us,” Emily breathes, “I’m blaming you.”

“Then keep quiet,” he says with a wink, spreading her thighs even further open with his shoulders. He kisses each thigh, taking his time to build her up until Emily presses the spikes of her heels into his shoulders. He only smiles against her, one long, slow lick of his tongue follows a moment later. Emily whines as he drags her closer to his mouth.

“Hurry up,” she pants with anticipation, and as if on cue, he touches his lips to her clit just enough to make her back arch and her eyes fall shut. “Fuck,” she groans, tugging at his hair with both hands, and when his tongue becomes an insistent pulsing rhythm, Emily lets out a loud whimper, one that reverberates through the conference room. Aaron pushes her over once; she comes against his mouth hard, her legs shaking on his shoulders as the heels nearly pierce his skin. He rears back, encircling her ankles with gentle fingers, staring down at her.

“So much for keeping quiet, Sweetheart.” He’s taunting her, loosening his hold on one ankle as he pulls at his belt. Emily’ head rolls back against the table, biting her lip when his pants are added to the pile. He palms himself in his hand, lining himself up with her as Emily wraps her legs around his waist. Aaron smiles when he feels the spikes of her heels dig into his lower back; he kisses her in tandem with the initial thrust inside of her. Emily whimpers into his mouth, bringing a hand to grip his shoulder for leverage as he pushes all the way in one smooth press of his hips.

“Oh fuck,” she whines, and he runs a finger over her lips to remind her of volume. She’s making these little noises, clenching around him, tilting her hips forward to meet his shallow thrusts. “Harder.” She tightens her legs around his back, bringing him impossibly close, and he’s more than happy to appease her. And he does, driving into her deliberately and forcefully as she hums in pleasure around him. Her nails scrape down his back, he winds an arm around her waist to keep her steady as those damn shoes remind him of how tightly her legs are locked around his hips.

Jesus Christ. “Emily.” Each drive of his hips sends the table into the wall. “Come for me.” He gets a hand between them, swipes his thumb over her clit a few times and it’s all it takes to send her over again, the near scream in his ear. She clenches around him like a vice, her moans muffled by the seal of his mouth around hers. He kisses her through her second climax, his own coming quickly, and one final push of his hips and the rasp of her name on his lips. It takes more strength than he anticipated to keep himself upright, and his arms shake with effort as he cleans her up with a tissue from his pocket. Aaron helps her down, making sure her legs don’t give out beneath her in the unforgiving shoes, beginning the now arduous task of searching for their clothes. Even with the closed door they hear the boom of music, indicating the party is still going strong.

“We should make this a yearly thing,” Emily says with a wicked grin, tossing his jacket in his direction. “No one even missed us.”

He pretends to consider it, wondering if there’s any truth to her words. They’ve been gone awhile; certainly by now someone might be wondering. His jaw flexes as he watches her rearrange her bra, getting the dress over her head and past her hips. And as his eyes wander down her legs to the expensive shoes, the ones with the name he still can’t pronounce, he knows he’ll never be able to deny her. “Fine. But only if you wear those again.”

#hotchniss #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss #hotchniss fanfiction #smut #writing smut at 5 am what else is new #i'm making myself late for work with this one but oh well

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mochegato · 4 years

Text

Pixie Spy

Chapter 3

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

Adrien was resting lightly on the hotel couch as he waited for Marinette and Constantine to return from their mission. It probably would have been wiser to just wait until the morning to check on Marinette but he wanted to be available to leave immediately in case something happened. Plus he wanted to see Constantine before he went home so he could make sure they all agreed on the next steps. Which led to his current position in their base of operations, covered in popcorn from an overturned bowl, in front of a table full of caffeinated drinks that hadn’t been as effective as he was hoping, the credits for the latest movie in his movie marathon rolling by on the television, and Plagg snoring loudly atop the overturned bowl.

Their Base of Operations was a penthouse room in Le Grand Paris Hotel next to Chloe’s room. She had convinced her Daddy she needed to have the extra room so she could have a gym and meditation area nearby. After all, was she really expected to share a gym with other people and their germs? Did he have no concern for her health at all! Did he want her to get sick? And with the whole Hawkmoth situation, she needed to meditate to relieve stress. Did he really think there was any way she could relax sharing a meditation area with other people!? Stressed people had trouble focusing in school. Did he want her to fail out of school? Did he want her to be stressed out and stress eat? To be sick and unhealthy and uneducated and miserable and get AKUMATIZED? Again? Is that really what he wanted for his only daughter?

The speed at which he caved was a personal best for Chloe and will forever be used by the team as a measure of speed, “yeah, that was fast, but not like meditation room fast”. And if the room she selected just so happened to have a balcony the heroes could use to swing in on and an extra bed they could use to collapse into after a tough fight and gym mats that could be used for sparring and a fully stocked refrigerator and pantry with the snacks the kwamis liked best and soundproofed walls (I mean honestly how was Chloe supposed to be expected to meditate in an unsoundproofed room?), it’s not really anyone else’s concern, now is it.

However, after hours of watching bad movies, the resolve he had earlier in the night of staying up until they returned had waned and he had involuntarily drifted off to sleep. It was almost sunrise and not long after that was when he would normally wake up for the day. Thankfully, he didn’t have anything scheduled for the day to ‘work on a large project’ with Chloe all day, so he would be able to sleep in and try to catch up. But as it was, he was running on almost no sleep for about 24 hours, after a full week of late nights and early mornings preparing for tonight, and consequently he was a little out of it. So perhaps he should be excused for having a very loose grip on reality at the present moment.

As soon as the portal opened behind his couch, he bolted up sensing the change in pressure more than reacting to any actual sound and immediately collapsed back on the couch when the sudden rush of blood made him dizzy. He blinked heavily as he watched Marinette and Constantine walk through the portal. He kept his focus on the portal behind them, mesmerized by the shimmering waves it created and still trying to get his hazy brain to focus on the present even after the portal had closed. He rubbed his eyes and squinted, still not sure if he was dreaming or conscious or if the two were bleeding together. “Is that… did you bring me a cat?” he asked in an uncertain voice still trying to make sense of what he was seeing.

��A what?” Marinette asked whipping around. “Oh for God’s sake. Seriously, cat. You’re not allowed to eat the kwamis,” she chastised the cat who dutifully ignored her and jumped onto the coffee table in front of Adrien to get a better look at the new kwami he had discovered, knocking over a few of Adrien’s drinks along the way.

Constantine huffed out a single laugh and tossed a cigarette into his mouth as he made his way toward the balcony, “Persistent little bugger. Good luck with that. I’m going out for a smoke.”

The cat cocked his head to the side and stared at the kwami. He cautiously raised his paw toward him as if to bat at him and started making chirping noises at him. When Plagg didn’t respond to the chirping, the cat moved a few steps closer to the black cat kwami and tried meowing at him.

“Back off fleabag,” Plagg hissed eyeing the infiltrator hostilely, “there’s already one cat here and I don’t share.”

“Only one?” Tikki asked amused.

“He doesn’t count his isn’t a real cat,” Plagg spluttered out motioning towards Adrien.

“Neither are you,” Adrien pointed out blithely.

Plagg flew into Adrien’s face to glare at him, “Look here you little…”

“Relax Plagg, I’m sending him back now,” Marinette interrupted rolling her eyes. “Voyage,” she called out picturing the Batcave and moving her arm to create a much smaller, cat sized portal she could push their stowaway through. She attempted to pick up the cat, but he apparently had other ideas. He twisted smoothly out of her hands, struggling to stay near the kwami. “Ugh,” Marinette grunted after a few more failed attempts, “Stop being a liquid!” she ordered the cat who continued to ignore her, but still rubbed against her legs on his way past her. “Tikki, Trixx, can you help out here?” she asked exasperated.

“Sure thing,” Trixx chirped and Trixx and Tikki flew around the cat’s head, gaining his attention. Once they were sure the cat was paying attention to them and willing to follow their movements, they both flew toward the portal at top speed, splitting up just before going through the portal. The cat raced after them but wasn’t quick enough to change his direction in time to avoid the portal. His momentum and Marinette’s well timed push caused him to slide through the portal. As soon as he was through, Marinette closed the portal, sealing him on the other side. They may be data thieves, but they were not cat thieves and she was not in the mood to deal with Plagg’s territoriality.

Marinette called off her transformation and collapsed into a large arm chair, letting out a long, tired sigh as she pulled off her shoes and tossed them on the floor. She rested her head against the back of the chair and closed her eyes, trying to meld with the chair and become one. She was ready for this night and this mission to be over. She didn’t even want to check that they got the data, she just wanted to go to sleep and never think about this night or blue eyes ever again. The gala was the past. It had no place in her future. Except that after all the information she had so stupidly shared both in the cave and at the gala, to a member of the Batfamily at that, they could definitely expect an immanent visit from the Batfamily and they would have to be prepared for that.

Adrien glanced over at Marinette amused at her exhaustion. He hoped her exhaustion was due to her having fun at the gala. Maybe she had met someone, at least for the night. Or maybe she had been able to network a bit. With the dress she had… his eyes widened as he suddenly noted her dress. That wasn’t what her dress looked like when she had left. That wasn’t a good sign. She was in the escape plan version of the dress, the shit-went-to-Hell version of the dress. It was supposed to be a last resort option. Well shit… On the bright side, that version of the dress was a lot more appealing and would have gotten more attention, so she might have gotten something out of the night after all. He shook his head and plastered on a fake smile, “So, how did it go? Was the mission a success?”

Marinette opened one eye to glare at him, the effect of which he thought was quite impressive considering she was only using one eye, honestly. “How did it go?” she repeated back to him in a belligerent tone opening both eyes to fully glare at him. “How did it go? How do you think it went?” she asked moving her hands up and down over her body indicating her dress.

“It looks like you got to show off that amazing design. So… any commissions? Get any phone numbers? Get the data?” He tried again still with a forced optimism.

“Oh he got the data alright,” her voice was dripping in false sweetness before switching to venom. “From the batcomputer in the Batcave as he was stealing it from Batman.” She replied intentionally avoiding the commission question because like hell was she going to hand him that win.

“What?!” Adrien exclaimed in shock.

“Yeah, that was the mission. Keep eyes on Batman while Constantine stole from him.”

“But you were supposed to keep an eye on the Waynes…”he commented confused.

“Exactly,” she confirmed with an acerbic smile.

“Wait… what! Bruce Wayne is Batman!!” he jumped up off the couch.

“Yep” she said popping the p.

“Shit,” he ran his hand over his face and collapsed back on the couch.

“That was roughly my response as well but with a lot more hostility and cursing.”

“But, I don’t understand… doesn’t he know Batman? Haven’t they worked together before? Why would we have to go through all of this if it was his friend?” his brain was still waking up and this was a lot to process and clearly his brain was not ready to do so.

“That is an excellent question my young Padawan,” she stood up moving closer to him.

“I’m older than you,” he interrupted with an annoyed look, but Marinette continued on ignoring him.

“And who does Constantine avoid at all costs?”

Adrien thought about it. They didn’t know Constantine extremely well, but they had managed to get a pretty good feel for him, “Legal authorities, debt collectors, his exes…”

“Exactly,” she interrupted “and since he doesn’t consider Batman a legal authority based on having worked with him before, and he doesn’t owe him money…”

“Oh my God!! He was screwing Batman!”

“It would seem so,” she nodded picking up one of the drinks on the table and contemplating the benefits of drinking it vs just saying fuck it and going to bed now.

“All that stuff we did? All that prep work, all that studying, the planning, the stress, the lost sleep, it was all because he wanted to avoid his ex?” Adrien needed clarification on this because they had gone through a lot in the last few weeks, unnecessarily so if that was true. Why had they allowed Constantine to help them again?

“He wanted to avoid him but get him involved with us. He figured this little undercover operation would achieve both.”

“Wait, how was you going to the Gala supposed to help?”

“Oh that’s another brilliant part of this clusterfuck of a night. The whole ‘stay undetected’ proviso was a fake out. The entire point was to get noticed. That’s why he sent me instead of you.”

“But, I’m famous so me going would have done that better.” Adrien couldn’t figure out if none of this made sense because his brain was still turned off or if it really didn’t make any sense, but Marinette’s reaction seemed to confirm that it wasn’t just him that was struggling with this.

“He didn’t just want us to get noticed, he wanted one of the bat boys to get invested, and he thought that was more likely if it was me rather than you. Apparently I look a lot more pathetic than you, so I worked better in his little plan,” she grumbled before smirking at him. “Personally, I think he vastly underestimated your ability to flirt and apparently the oldest brother is something of a slut so you could have possibly gotten a date out of it or at least a make out session. You should talk to him about that.”

Adrien stared at her as she ranted, trying to process everything she was telling him. One phrase caught his attention though, “which one is the oldest one again? Is he the one with the hair and the eyes and the…” he motioned toward his shoulders trying to indicate broad shoulders and firm body, “the gymnast?”

“Yep, that’s the one,” she nodded.

“Shit.” Adrien looked dejected. But turned back to her with a rakish smile. “So did his plan work? Did one of them ‘invest’ in you?”

“Not in me… ugh” she fell onto the couch. “So, on top of everything else, the brother we thought was dead? He’s very much alive. A wonderful fact which Constantine knew and I discovered WHILE I WAS DANCING WITH HIM! I mentioned the Hawkmoth situation to him in a very vague way before I knew who he was, which I would never have done if I’d known who he was, and I would have known if Constantine had fucking TOLD us about him.” She shouted toward the balcony.

“So…” Adrien prompted her.

“He seemed invested in stopping people getting hurt when I ran out, not in me.” She clarified, though whether she was trying to convince herself or him, she wasn’t sure.

“… you were dancing with him?” Adrien cocked his head to the side and gave her a smirk. “How closely were you dancing, exactly?”

“It wasn’t… that’s not how… It wasn’t like that. I was using him as a cover to get onto the dancefloor to observe the Waynes.” She floundered, her cheeks starting to turn pink as she forced down the ‘not close e-fucking-nough’ that wanted to break out.

“Don’t let her lie to you like that,” Constantine said coming back into the room. “She and Jason were getting cozy.”

“You were not there. We were NOT getting cozy,” she lied through her teeth, pointing a threatening finger towards him. And they certainly hadn’t been as cozy as she would have liked, so it isn’t really a lie, only kind of a lie.

“How cozy were you getting? Should I start planning a shovel talk?” Adrien grinned, enjoying every second of this.

Marinette sputtered at him, her blush turning darker, “This is not about my non-existent love life, this is about Constantine’s fucked up sex life. It is about him going though all this so he could avoid having to talk to his ex. He could have just asked Wayne for the information if he wasn’t so focused on his stupid little lover’s spat.”

“It wasn’t a lover’s spat.” Constantine corrected offended by the suggestion.

“Just a prank on your boyfriend then?” Marinette hissed at him, “at the expense of our time and Parisians’ sanity.”

“He isn’t… we aren’t… I have never and will never sleep with Batman. God, of all the vigilantes to suggest… I mean not the worst but not even when drunk and desperate.”

“You’ll screw a shark but not a bat?” Adrien asked with a cocked eyebrow.

“Okay, first I didn’t screw a shark, I got screwed by a shark, a lot. There is a difference. I highly recommend it actually... well maybe not to you two sunshine children… but the loud, blonde one seems like she might be into having fun.”

Adrien made a gagging sound and Marinette turned away quickly, shuddering and closing her eyes against the thought of Chloe and… anything. She didn’t want to think about Chloe doing anything with anyone. “I think I need to scrub my brain with bleach.”

“Second,” Constantine continued on, pretending he wasn’t enjoying their reaction to his statement, that it wasn’t the exact reaction he was trying to illicit, “ew. Too much drama involved. And, I’d still like to know how you found out about that anyway.”

Marinette looked over to Adrien to answer but noticed he was completely lost in thought, probably still trying to think of something to take his mind off of Chloe before glancing over to Plagg. Plagg looked up from the pillow he had settled on and shrugged, “you smell like fish.”

Adrien cocked his head to the side still deep in thought. “So… does that make him a Furry?”

“What the hell, Adrien! Is that really the focus here?” Marinette exclaimed hitting him on the shoulder. She was desperate to stop thinking about Chloe but Constantine doing anything with anyone was not an improvement over that. On the bright side, she wasn’t thinking about the gala anymore but God, at what cost?

“I mean, sharks don’t have fur so… finny?” he said still looking at nothing while he thought through the implications. “But furry is a reference to their skin and shark skin is made up of denticles, really tiny scales, so… scaly? No, that doesn’t sound nice. ‘Furry’ sounds cute, being into non-mammals should get a cute name too. Yeah, finny is definitely better. But since, a bat is a mammal, sleeping with the bat would’ve made him a furry. So he’s a finny, not a furry.” He said with a nod, proud of himself for working that out.

Marinette stared at him incredulously and ran a hand over her face, “Never has your scientific experience been more inappropriately utilized.”

“Oh no, you don’t know the conversations Red Cap, Glasses, Skater Girl, Monkey Boy, and he have. It gets much more inappropriately utilized and quite often.” Plagg said with an evil grin.

“You’re both wrong. Furry refers to people in costumes meant to evoke an animal. One really is a shark and the other isn’t trying to actually look like a bat so neither qualify, if we’re getting technical.” Constantine said leaning against the arm chair, arms folded over his chest. “As much as I like to discuss people’s sexual proclivities, is that really what you want to discuss before I leave? No better questions you want to focus on before I go?”

Marinette was almost grateful for him voicing his concern and changing the topic. Almost. Because she knew his concern wasn’t with staying on topic. The waste that the last two weeks were stood as testament to that fact. He didn’t care about wasting time. He had a point he wanted to make and he wanted their attention for it.

She wanted to get mad at him. She wanted to lecture him, but everything about this night was messy and frustrating and aggravating and it was all his fault so he didn’t get a pass even if she knew he was trying to help. At this point in the night… morning? God it was so late. At this point in the morning, she just wanted to drop it and let sleep wash away the night and the memories. Thankfully, she had Adrien. And Adrien takes Parisian suffering just as personally as she does.

Adrien looked at Constantine in feigned naïve confusion, “What did you want to focus on? How you made us unwitting accomplices to stealing from a superhero? How we are now on the Justice League’s radar as possible villains? How you lied to us the entire time you’ve been working with us? How you manipulated us against our express wishes to try to force our hand? How you ignored all of our expertise and thought out conclusions and instead of talking with us, played games with ours and other Parisians’ lives? How you wasted our time? During which time approximately 3 million Parisians died as a result of 8 akuma attacks. Which one did you want to focus on right now?”

Constantine rolled his eyes and huffed out a breath. “Dramatic much? Two weeks and one or two more deaths for someone who has already died a dozen times isn’t going to make much of a difference, but getting Batman involved might.”

“It makes a huge fucking difference to the people going through it. One more on top of so many others can be enough to cause a break that might take years or decades to recover from, if they ever do, to drive someone irrevocably insane. It makes a difference to the child who lost their innocence because of it.” Marinette hissed at him, suddenly very much awake.

“You swore to keep the Justice League out of this,” Adrien growled next to her. “That was the one condition. We were very clear on our opinion on the matter. You agreed. You swore you would abide by our rules.”

“I agreed to abide by the rule. I never said I agreed with it. I swore I wouldn’t communicate anything with or to them. I didn’t,” he said pointing to Marinette, “Spots did. And us being there did. I didn’t break anything… I just bent it a bit and if you’re asking me for my opinion…”

“We didn’t,” Marinette snarled.

“…I think that rule needs to be finessed. An exception made,” Constantine finished ignoring Marinette’s interjection.

“You don’t get to make that decision, you don’t even get a say. This is our city. You don’t dictate the terms here,” Adrien gave Constantine a dark look, rising from the couch to his full height. “You’re welcome to give advice. You’ve certainly had more experience with magic and fighting, but you didn’t do that. You didn’t offer your opinion or advice. You manipulated us and the situation to force us to do as you want. You involved Batman. That is...”

The rest of Adrien’s rant was interrupted by the sound of Constantine’s phone ringing. Constantine pulled out his phone and grunted as he saw the caller id, “Bollocks, speak of the Bat and the Bat shall appear. Took longer than I expected. He must be slipping or he isn’t worried about you.”

“What are you doing? Turn your phone off so they can’t track you.” Marinette ordered hurriedly jumping up when he didn’t immediately turn it off only calming down when he had turned it off. “And why wouldn’t he be worried about me? I am very worrisome.” She defended herself.

“I can attest to that,” Adrien nodded from her side.

She glared at him, then shook her head and cleared her throat, “I mean, good. We don’t want them to show too much interest. The less interest the better. Maybe if we make it hard to find us, they’ll just move on.” She winced as she finished saying it, not even believing it was an option herself.

“Yeah, that’s not going to happen and they’re going to know I’m in Paris.” Constantine scoffed.

“Probably, but they don’t have to know you’re in this room. Just leave it off until you leave. And remember you aren’t going to tell Batman anything.” Adrien ordered him pointing his finger towards him and levelling him with a steely look.

“Oh well thank you so much for your permission,” he snarked at him. “And just to be clear, I’ve been abiding by the no speaking rule… more or less, but this is Batman. It’s a losing battle. He’s going to find me and I’m not getting tortured by one of his kids for you. They’re all pain and no pleasure.” He opened his coat to put his phone back in his pocket and discretely sniffed the air between his body and his coat and furrowed his brow. He looked up and saw the two watching him. He stood back up nonchalantly. “And my advice is it’s a good idea for you to talk to him. He can help.”

“Does Batman have some insight into magic that we don’t? Or the ability to control his emotions? Would he respect us and listen to us? Is he trustworthy?”

“No, God no, that’s laughable, and fuck no. But what he does have is detective skills and a shit ton of backing money.”

“But we can’t trust him,” Marinette clarified.

“Sweetheart, you trusted me so… your judgement is suspect to begin with. I would have trusted him before I trusted me.”

“We needed you for your knowledge of magic, the history, the limits, how to wield it, how to manipulate it, where to find more information on it… and how to steal that information.” Marinette conceded the last bit. “That offset the trust factor. Batman doesn’t have any of that to offer.”

“I’m just saying…” he sighed quietly, “think about it. Or one of his kids. You could let one of his kids come or help you from a distance. They really are good detectives and you kids really do need a break. You’ve been doing a good job, but until you find Hawkmoth, this isn’t going to end. You won’t be able to move on. You could use a good detective for that. They don’t call them the world’s greatest detective for no reason.” He stopped to consider the title for a minute, “although Tim might actually be better than Bruce and better at controlling his emotions too.

“But your best bet might just be Jason,” he grinned devilishly at Marinette as she fought her blush. She was not going to blush just at hearing his name. She had more control than that, damn it. “It sounds like you’ve gotten his interest in the project already. He’s a good detective too, some experience with magic, and if he trusts you, you can trust him. He’ll have trouble with his temper so you’ll have to keep an eye on that, but you won’t find a better fighter.”

“Oh, that sounds like a great combination to have here, amazingly skilled fighter with no capacity for anger management,” Marinette bit at him. “That’s not Hawkmoth’s ideal candidate or anything.”

“Hard to control though, the best have tried. Even if Butterfly Man tries, he’s your best bet at resisting it,” he said knowingly. “And as tough as he looks, and is, he’d give the skin off his back to help someone in trouble, especially a kid.”

“Isn’t the phrase ‘shirt off his back’?” Adrien asked with a raised brow.

“He’d be more upset about the jacket. Just consider it. Maybe the information we got will be enough, but you can use all the allies you can get on your side. And maybe you could use a new approach, a new perspective.” Constantine sighed and looked back at the two teens noting the darkening bags under their eyes. “Now, get some sleep, you look like hell.”

“Personal knowledge?” Adrien quipped at him.

Marinette rolled her eyes, “You better be careful. If anyone were to hear you now they might think you give the slightest care about someone other than yourself. What would happen to your reputation then?” He huffed at her and she smirked back at him.

“I’ll just have to be extra careful to show my true feelings around other people, so nobody gets confused.” He responded.

Marinette hummed in response. He wasn’t fooling anyone and everyone there knew it. She sighed and stood up, calling for her transformation. “Voyage” she said quietly and motioned near Constantine to open a portal to his next destination.

“Let me know when you get it deciphered. I’m just a voyage away if you need anything. And if you need someone to talk to… definitely don’t be afraid to think better of calling me,” he said gruffly. Marinette rolled her eyes at him. “And think about what I said,” he said looking her in the eyes with a meaningful look. She nodded in understanding and offered a quiet “Good Night and thank you” to him. He turned to give a small nod to Adrien before walking through the portal.

“Want to talk about anything?” Adrien asked coming up behind her and bumping her with his shoulder.

Marinette shook her head, “We can talk about everything later. There isn’t anything you need to know right now. Let’s just go to sleep. It’s been a rough night.”

<><><><><>

“Constantine turned off his phone before I could get his exact location.” Tim called out loudly not bothering to look up from his spot in front of the computer in the Batcave. He hadn’t left his seat since returning from the gala. He had barely waited until the limo was stopped before jumping out and reporting immediately to the batcomputer. Unlike the rest of the family, he hadn’t even bothered to change out of his suit from the gala yet, too focused on trying to glean all the information he could from the breadcrumbs Constantine had left behind.

They needed to track down that girl and figure out how much of a threat she was to them. She had already proven herself to be a clear and present threat and they needed to establish if she needed to be neutralized. First priority was Constantine though. He seemed to be pulling the strings and had broken into the cave for a very specific reason and they needed to know what he knew and why he did it. That meant figuring out what files he had accessed and where he was hiding.

“Were you able to get a general vicinity before he turned it off?” Dick asked coming up behind him. Unlike Tim, he and the rest of the family had changed out of their suits and into pajamas before they started the post mortem on their night.

“Of course,” he scoffed at the audacity of the doubt. “He didn’t turn it off that quickly. He’s somewhere in Paris.”

“He likely left it on so we would know where to start our search,” Bruce nodded knowingly. “Did he leave us any messages?

“Just this note,” Tim motioned toward a section of the screen with a typed message, ‘You need to up your security. Your move, Bats.” Bruce sighed and rubbed his temples.

“What did he get?” Jason demanded from his spot leaning against a wall.

“A file on something called a ‘Miraculous’.” Tim responded.

“What the fuck is that?” Jason asked annoyed. Something had to make sense tonight, just one thing. Sooner or later, something had to make some fucking sense.

“I’m not sure. There isn’t much here. Or rather there is a lot here but only a small portion of it is in a known language. The part I can translate says the Miraculous are magic jewels that grant powers that are potentially devastating on a global scale. The rest is in a language that neither the computer nor I have ever seen. I’m running translation algorithms but not getting anything... yet” Tim answered distractedly, still trying to read as much as he could as he was talking.

“It says they wield a lot of power. The League had plans a couple hundred years ago to try to steal them from something called ‘The Order of the Guardians’ but before they could enact their plan the Order’s compound was destroyed by an unknown force. The League surmised it was a power of the miraculous. They found no evidence of survivors or the miraculous. They were able to gather some texts from the ruins, scans of which is what is in the files, but without the miraculous themselves, it isn’t much good. There isn’t any translation offered so either we didn’t get that file from them, they weren’t able to translate it, or they gave up on trying to translate it.

Magic. Mother fucking Hell. There went any hope Jason had of anything making sense. Nothing ever made sense or went their fucking way when magic was involved.

“Any indication what that has to do with this girl or Paris?” Dick asked.

“None, but if I had to guess, which I do, I would say they are being used in Paris.” Tim responded.

“It isn’t like the League to give up, especially on something that could grant them power on a global scale.” Bruce noted.

“Agreed. And there would have been reference to a translation here if there was one, so they likely were never able to translate it.” Tim nodded.

“That isn’t a good sign for us.” Jason commented.

“They aren’t me. I’ll translate it. Give me a week.” Tim said confidently.

Dick stared at the video of the earlier events in the cave playing on the far side of the screen. “What do you think the odds are that the portal thing was somehow related to the Miraculous? She seemed to have to transform to use it.” Dick noted.

Bruce nodded, “Good point. Tim, go through the information in the files and the video and write up a summary,” Bruce ordered Tim. Turning to Jason he said, “What do you know about her?

He snorted, oh now they fucking trusted his intuition. He thought through the night with her. She hadn’t said too much during the first part of the night, but he was a detective damn it, and a damn good one so he didn’t need words to figure someone out. She had been fidgeting, she took care of the sexual assaulter quickly and discretely but hadn’t tried to fight Jason when he grabbed her later, she helped cheer up the kid with him, she kept up with his banter, she had a brilliant smile and looked gorgeous when she blushed… that probably isn’t relevant… accurate but not helpful in this particular situation. She had figured them out after just observing them for a few minutes, she had cursed the hell out of Constantine and was damn sexy doing it, she said people were depending on her, she had somehow arranged a way to change her dress unnoticed with people around and looked hot as hell in both dresses. It all came together to help form a personality profile in his mind and make the room feel significantly warmer.

“Has Anxiety. Can protect herself but doesn’t like using violence. Kind. Witty. Creative. Smart, like Tim level smart. Dick Syndrome, shouldering the blame for everything that happens around her. Does not like being lied to or manipulated. Not wealthy. Don’t think she was invited and she definitely didn’t want to be there.” He listed off.

Tim nodded along with the last part using it to springboard into another way to track her and Constantine, “Likely acquired by someone else who gave it to her, probably Constantine. But since we would have recognized Constantine’s name and clearly he was trying to go under the radar on this, he asked someone else to get it.” He rolled the chair to the left and focused on a different monitor while starting the search for the list.

“Do we know if anyone asked for a ticket last minute?” Dick asked jumping on Tim’s train of thought. If they could figure out who Constantine was working with they could ask them questions, get some leads.

“I’ll look through the invitation list and see if anything stands out,” Tim responded.

“This seems like a waste of effort, whoever that is probably doesn’t know anything more than Constantine wanted a ticket,” Jason countered. Why was this the focus? The more important thing to focus on was what she said about Paris, not how she got in.

“Whoever it is may be working with them as well and may know something. It’s worth at least a look,” Dick explained. “Anything else?”

Jason rolled his eyes, at least it meant they were looking into it and finally taking it seriously. “She said there has been a supervillain in Paris for the last 5 years. The data Constantine was getting was related to that. That data was supposed to help them fight the villain. She said people were counting on her, which makes me think she’s a hero there….” he turned toward the sound of Damian scoffing as he made his way into the cave. “And Alfred likes her better than Demon Spawn.” Jason smirked turning back towards the rest of the family.

“I will get my katana and gut you. I only just succeeded in calming Alfred enough to rest.” Damian glared at Jason.

“Yeah, because he was upset he wasn’t still with her,” Jason snarked quietly, but loudly enough for his words to be heard by everyone in the cave.

Tim chortled from his spot at the computer, “she does seem to have a way with demonic creatures, doesn’t she? Constantine, Alfred… maybe we should send Demon Spawn to her too. She can tame the Hell Spawn.” He kept his focus on the computer as he made his comment missing Damian’s face shift from anger to rage. Jason snickered at the comment, pushing Damian over the edge after all the comments and events of the night.

Damian jumped up from his chair to rush toward Jason, yelling something about a hussy and sullying. Honestly, Jason couldn’t make out his exact words. Tim only glanced back with the briefest of looks before returning to the computer. Damian attacking Jason was nothing new. It always ended with them getting separated before any real damage could be done and Jason chastised for defending himself because ‘Damian never meant to actually kill or seriously damage anyone during the attacks. It was more of a venting session for him’.

Damian lamented that he hadn’t prepared properly for a confrontation as he rushed toward Jason. He had prepared for bed, like the rest of the family and had left his katana and weapons in his room. The weapons he used for patrol were on the other side of the cave, too far away to be of use right now. But he was confident he didn’t need weapons to best Jason.

Damian jumped on the meeting table just at the last moment, using it as leverage to add height to the flying kick he sent towards Jason. Jason anticipated the kick, Damian had been dumb enough to announce his attack, expecting everyone to react as they normally did. What he didn’t anticipate, what none of them anticipated, was for Jason to not be in the fucking mood. This was a long night already and the only good part of it they were belittling and to top it off Damian was attacking him again and no matter how it ended, he was going to get in trouble for it.

Just as Damian’s foot was about to land on Jason’s face he pushed it to the side and twisted, redirecting Damian’s momentum, causing him to crash harmlessly to the floor. Damian jumped back up and ran at Jason. He threw a punch to his side just a beat too slowly. Jason twisted slightly again, just enough for the fist to fly past him then encouraged Damian’s momentum with a slight push of his own causing Damian to slam face first into the ground. When he stood back up, ready to try again they could hear Dick in the background starting to intercede but Jason was too pissed to listen or to back down peacefully and Damian was still looking for a way to vent his frustration.

“Stand still you giant oaf,” Damian screamed at Jason, running at him again. Jason squared up against Damian and punched him in the center of his chest. Damian went down hard as all the air left his lungs. Before he could take a breath Jason pulled him up by the back of his shirt, bringing Damian’s face close to his own, “how many times do I have to tell you, don’t start a fight you can’t finish, Shorty” he hissed at him before letting him drop.

Dick was next to Damian before he hit the ground checking him to make sure he was okay. “What the hell, Jason! Was that really necessary? He wasn’t trying to hurt you. You didn’t have to hit him that hard. He was just letting off steam.”

“Then he should have gone after a practice dummy, not me. And he should stop acting like a little jealous, elitist bitch. I don’t understand why you dislike the galas so much, Damian, you’re right on track to be exactly like all those people there. And for the record, if I’d wanted to hurt him, his sternum would be shattered right now instead of just bruised.”

“How dare you, you dimwitted, boorish, buffoon!” Damian hissed out, still breathing heavily and unable to yell. “You’re so ready to defend that uncultured streetwalker over your own family. You have no loyalty and no honor.”

“Way to prove his point, Demon.” Tim muttered from the computer.

“Alright, enough,” Bruce glared at Jason and Damian. “We don’t have time for this. Jason and you too Tim, Damian is a kid. You’re adults. Stop baiting him.”

“Y’all are going to have to decide if he is a kid or a vigilante assassin because you seem to blur the lines a lot. Is he a kid or a tool to achieve your vengeance?” Jason seethed at the two older men in the room.

“As amusing as this show is and as much as I would love to hear the answer to that question,” Tim interceded, “let’s bring the focus back to the matter at hand; Constantine exposing us and bring a stranger into the cave. I started looking for evidence of heroes in Paris and whatever she may have told you, I can’t find any news on any villains or superheroes in Paris or even France. The only thing I have been able to find is a note on an official Paris city calendar about a Heroes Day to celebrate heroes. But, it doesn’t specify particular heroes though so it could be everyday heroes or even heroes anywhere on Earth. And we have to consider the very real possibility that she played Constantine. If there was anything going on in Paris, let alone for 5 years, we would be able to find something, anything, but there is nothing.”

“Whatever else you want to say about him, Constantine is a good judge of people, when someone is playing an angle and when they are on the level, when that angle is really bad and when it’s just ‘bad’. He didn’t break in here and leave that message for no reason. The Miraculous is in play in Paris. We need to decide what we are going to do about that.” Jason retorted.

“That inept excuse for a hero clearly isn’t doing a proper job of handling it. We should intervene and handle it for her. Show her what a hero really looks like.” Damian responded snidely still hunched over a bit. Jason glared at him.

“I’ve already taken you down once today, kid,” throwing the term in Damian’s face as a taunt, “I’ll do it again. And if you believe that, then you also believe there is something going on there. You’re admitting she was telling the truth.” Damian scoffed in response and looked away.

“We know almost nothing about the situation in Paris. The League’s notes said the Miraculous’ power could potentially affect the entire planet. At the very least, we should gather as much information as we can on it, talk to the heroes there if there are any, see what we can do to help.” Dick suggested calmly.

“Them,” Tim corrected. “The files indicated there is more than one miraculous.”

“And each one can affect the entire planet?” Bruce asked concerned.

“It is unclear from the data available.” Tim responded.

“Constantine’s phone was definitely in Paris, he left it on so we would know to go there. He’s too experienced to make that mistake. It was a clue about what our next step should be. We should follow it.” Dick observed.

“So we are deciding to do exactly as the deranged dullard wanted us to do and playing into his plans,” Damian muttered from his spot at the table. After everything that had happened that night they were going to just let him win. “Brilliant plan.”

“There is too much at stake to ignore it. We follow the leads we have. So we go plain clothes as reconnaissance, see what we can pick up by being there, but bring the suits so we can meet with the heroes there if we find something. Dick, you and Damian can stay here and watch over Gotham while we are gone.” Bruce ordered, standing up to end the conversation.

“I’m going too. Someone has to keep that wench from turning Todd against the rest of us.” Damian responded coldly.

Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose. He was not in the mood to deal with this right now. There were too many unknowns. “Fine. I’ll ask Clark to be on call as backup for you Dick. The rest of us go to Paris tomorrow. Use the rest of today to get ready.”

“I’ll make the arrangements, Master Bruce.” Alfred announced from the doorway.

Chapter 4

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artxyra · 4 years

Text

The Secret Life of MDC | Part 5

Part 5 – Haha, wait you’re serious?

Fun fact: This rewrite was supposed to be five parts, but as I was writing and changing things, I have no idea how long this is going to be.

Parts 01 | 02 | 03 | 04

What a relaxing evening the couples group plus one was having. Everyone but Jon and Damian was wearing a disguise of some sort. Marinette in her usual lace netted veil, Chloe with her hair down and sunglasses on, and Adrien with a dark wig and punk clothes. It was never easy being out and open like this, but it was relaxing.

“I’m telling you, she’s not worth it.” Marinette states before taking a sip of her ice coffee beverage. She doesn’t know how or when their conversation regarding the upcoming gala turned into a revenge plan to reveal the liar that has made her life miserable back in Paris.

“Angel, she is making up stories about me. How can I not make her suffer any more than she had made you?” Damian asks taking her hand into his own. Marinette huffs unsure what to say.

“C’mon buggy, even Luka agrees with him. Let him take over for a moment.” Adrien comments showing the designer his phone with a series of messages from Luka on the screen.

Marinette still doesn’t reply. Instead, she looks up to the sky as of it hoping for a miracle. Nothing was working.

“Kagami even she said she’ll help hide the body. Just give me the okay and she’ll be on the next flight here or I’ll go get her with Kaalki.” Chloe adds in taping away on her phone as if she wasn’t paying attention.

“Absolutely not. Look, guys, we have three weeks left here and I don’t want to spend it worrying about the class despite being the damn TA for this exchange. I already need to finish the touch-ups on our dresses and grade like a shit ton of assignments.” Marinette groans leaning into Damian’s chest. He places a kiss on her forehead before resting his chin on her head.

“Why are you guys even like this?” It’s Jon’s turn to cry out in frustration. Everyone turns to him with an eyebrow raised. The half-Kryptonian should no better by now than to question anything his boyfriend and friends do. “Alright, alright, I fold. What do I need to do?”

“Stay my handsome hero.” Adrien absently adds swooning in Jon’s arms looking upward to the hero. Shaking his head, Adrien turns to Marinette and blinks. “Did I really just say that?”

Marinette tries to hide her giggles, nodding. However, Chloe didn’t even try to hide her laughs causing the model to blush.

“I actually liked it,” Jon says before placing a kiss on the blonde’s cheek furthering his blush to a deeper red.

“Ooh, Gami just replied back to me, she wants to see if we can do a movie night stream?” Chloe asks on behalf of her girlfriend. Planning movie nights are often frequent amongst the group especially when they are missing each other.

“I know my father wouldn’t mind, but depending on who’s staying at the manor tonight it might turn into a family affair,” Damian responds gently pushing Marinette off of him and stand up to stretch.

“She’s fine with that.”

“Good; I’ll message Alfred to set to the theatre room.” Damian pulls out his phone and immediately proceeds to message the family butler.

“You know he’ll probably send a message with an image of the theatre room decked out with pillows and blankets with the caption: already have, young master.” Marinette jokes but little did she know her guess was actually right.

Damian’s phone dings with a message from Alfred. It is indeed a photo of the theatre room with pillows and blanket gently piled together. Underneath the photo is the message “Already done, young master, just be home before dark.”

“How does he do that?” Adrien wonders before adding, “It’s witchcraft?”

“You know as well as my brothers that we still do not know that answer.” Damian murmurs sliding his phone back into his pocket. He then holds out his hand for Marinette to take as she pushes herself off the wooden bench.

“We should head back then…” Marinette is then cut off by her phone along with her blonde sibling’s phones simultaneously buzzing. The three Parisians grab their phones and see the answer.

It’s the Headmistress of Gotham Academy calling her. Confused, Marinette answers the call just as Adrien and Chloe read the variety of messages from the classmates or at least those that still have their numbers.

Damian and Jon look to one another cautiously. It’s not every day that the trio’s phone would go off especially when they are not in a group chat with the others. Damian takes a step closer to Marinette as panic rises her eyes.

When the call ends, Marinette takes a series of deep breaths. “First the Riddler and now this shit. They better be damn glad to stay on this trip once we find them.” Was the only thing that would come out of the designer’s mouth.

Chloe and Adrien stop reading. “Ridiculous, utterly ridiculous.” This really draws two teens to their friends. Adrien stays silent which is unlike him especially when there isn’t a battle or around them.

“Um, care to fill us in?” Jon asks knowing that Damian would not as he tries to get answers from Marinette.

“Apparently Mlle. Bustier and the GA staff are losing their heads.” Chloe starts.

“Nino messaged me that something had happened after we left,” Adrien adds shuffling his feet against the ground.

“Yeah; Alya and Lie-la are missing. The headmistress says that no one has seen since we left and asked if we, more specifically I, knew about their whereabouts.” Marinette shakes her head, “Which I have no clue about. I’m not a sheep’s keeper.” The noirette sighs, face-palming.

“I guess movie night is off then.” Jon ponders.

“No, no, we can still find them before it gets super late. By we, I mean Robin and Superboy along with the Gotham’s miraculous team.” Marinette counters before anyone could get a word in.

“Wait, you’re serious?” Chloe asks in disbelief.

“Yeah, let’s just hope the liar’s big mouth didn’t get her in trouble with the Joker or any other Gotham villain,” Marinette grumbles as if all happiness crash and burned right in front of her.

“And here I have thought that after last week, they would stay on the down-low, but no~ they just had to disappear. This will really put a stick into Mlle. Bustier’s teaching qualifications.” Chloe groans as she starts packing her stuff up with looks ready to kill.

“I’ll see you in a bit, suit and all. I have damage control to handle before we make our next steps.” Marinette and Adrien give their significant others a peck on the lips. As much as Damian hates the veil covering her eyes, he knows the pain the reset inside them.

“I’ll talk things through with the family. Maybe even hack into the security cameras for some leads.” He whispers into her ear holding her arms. Marinette looks up to Damian and nods.

~*~

If those phone calls didn’t give light to the current situation, it would have been like walking into the middle of a war zone. Everywhere you look there were teachers asking questions, normally this would never happen to Gotham Academy, but when the exchange happens it like the school turns on its head.

Chloe, Adrien, and Marinette decided to split up. Adrien went to speak to Nino to see if he had knowledge of his girlfriend. Chloe sneaked into the security room while Marinette takes on her teacher assistant role to speak with Mlle. Bustier and the GA headmistress.

Marinette could tell how heated the conversation is from just a few feet away. The closer she got the more she could tell that Caline was sweating where she was standing.

“Marinette doesn’t belong in conversations like this.” Caline tries to get Marinette removed from the conversation the moment she sees the girl, but the headmistress wasn’t having that.

“Marinette is allowed to be here, Ms. Bustier, she is apparently the only one with the contact information regarding your students.” The headmistress states and it was true. Even though Marinette is technically the class representative despite no longer being a student of the school, she still holds vital information regarding the class.

“Hold on, you didn’t contact our parents?” Realization began to hit. “We were nearly killed last week and today, not even a full week since we have arrived, you have lost two students.”

“Marinette, you guys made it back safely, and I just didn’t have time to call everyone’s parents or guardians.” Caline is really trying to save face here.

“We’re in a whole another country. It is your duty to inform parents and or guardians about any situation, mishap, whatever happens to them.” Marinette nearly screams at the teacher. Anger could not even begin to be Marinette’s main emotion.

“I’m sure they’ll show up, Alya and Lila are very responsible.” Seriously? She cannot be for real.

“Mlle. Bustier,” Marinette takes a deep breath, clasps her hands together. “They can be killed here. I may not like those two but even I know the importance of safety here in Gotham.”

“Marinette, I’ll take it from here. How about you go help the others in finding the two missing girls.” The GA headmistress says placing a hand on the designer’s shoulder. Marinette calms down and nods. It was for the best.

Marching down the halls, everyone avoided Marinette. How could they not, she was a woman on a warpath. The Paris exchange students have never seen Marinette so angry before it was causing them to quake in their shoes.

Adrien was finishing his conversation with Nino when he joins Marinette’s side on the march to glory. Chloe had just finished up with the security room before she joined her crew. Together, the three exits the school grounds knowing exactly where they are heading to.

It was no secret that everyone knows each other identity between the Batfam and the Miraculous crew. So, when Alfred pulled up in a disguised car, with the window rolled down he simply raises an eyebrow. The trio gets in as the school just watches in shock. Nothing was making sense to them.

“So, I found that they did indeed leave minutes after we did. The cameras lost them upon walking across the streets towards this building.” Chloe states pointing to the screen with confidence.

“From what I had gathered from Nino, they had missed their check-in time at least three times before the flags were raised. As you know the class aside from us needs to check-in with the teachers at least once an hour after what happened last week.” Adrien then adds in.

Marinette nods before she turns to Tim, who was surprising on his fourth cup of coffee.

“Tim, what did you find?” She asks before sliding a coffee flavor “health” bar over to the hacker. Tim takes it and slides the bar into his pocket.

“Let’s just say its not the Joker behind their missing appearance. We got Gordon on the lookout, but you know what they say when it comes close to nighttime here in Gotham.”

“Out of everyone, it had to be the two of them. If my job wasn’t also kind of on the stake, I would have just left them to figure it out and stay out of it.”

“You know that’s not true Mars; you love to save people even those who let deserves it.”

“Who asked you, Kitten, let him bitch about things that we know would never happen.”

If it wasn’t for the growing tension in the room, everyone would have burst out laughing.

“We got movement,” Jason calls out while cleaning one of his guns.

Everyone catches the other’s eyes before simultaneously nodding. It’s going to be a long night ahead of them.

Tag List: *View my Tagging System guidelines for how to to be properly tagged or removed.

Note: The SPECIFIC Tag list is officially closed. If you wanted to follow the story please mark the tag fic:The Secret Life of MDC.

#maribat #daminette #ml x dc #mlb x dc #ml crossover #dc crossover #fic:The Secret Life of MDC #teacher assistant Marinette AU #ta marinette

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mldrgrl · 3 years

Text

Broken Things 22/24

by: mldrgrl Rating: varies by chapter, rated R overall See Chapter 1 for summary and notes

His room is now their room, and the timing is perfect, considering the surveyor is due any day. When he opens the wardrobe now, her blouses and skirts and underthings live next to his. Her tin of hairpins sits next to his comb at the washstand. Her shawl hangs next to his jacket on the hooks behind the door.

They haven’t been physically intimate since the morning that Mary arrived and she tells him she’s having her women’s time. He only has the vaguest notion of what that means, but it must be why she’s paler than normal and a bit subdued. He’s asked her a few times if she feels okay and she always tells him she’s fine, but he knows that women’s time can bring pains and sickness, so he tries to be comforting in the ways he knows how. He rubs her back when they lay in bed together and he will embrace her when they find they have a moment alone. He always breathes a small sigh of relief when she embraces him back.

He notices she’s deeply concerned with the new horse and he doesn’t blame her. He has his own concerns. He’s rehabilitated and trained dozens of horses, but he’s never dealt with a pregnant mare and Melvin seems to think the poor gal is in some kind of danger and might need to be put down. He doesn’t want to have to do that, especially since Katherine is so taken with it.

The surveyor arrives, a Mr. Sean Pendrell. He brings maps and equipment with him that Katherine takes immediate interest in. His wife is actually a very shrewd advisor when it comes to the planning. She’s able to help design a layout for the new space which will give them a better access road to the town and save them a bit of headache when it comes to the new pasture. He didn’t think it would be possible to join the old with the new, but she found a way and even Mr. Pendrell was impressed.

As the days go by, both Mulder and Mr. Pendrell begin deferring to Katherine over certain elements of the plans. ��When they tour the old Goodwin property, she advises that the water pump should be considered central to where and how the additional buildings will be placed. There are times when Mr. Pendrell does speak up and step in, given his experience, and Katherine listens and insists that Richard be brought into the conversation and the three of them start speaking an engineering language that sounds like gibberish to Mulder and leaves him scratching his head most of the time.

Sheriff Doggett rides out with his boy, Luke, and Mulder shows them around the ranch. He can tell that the Sheriff is hesitant about letting his son come out and work for him and he tries his best to allay any concerns the man may have. It happens that Mr. Pendrell is working with Richard on a design the ranch hand wants to incorporate into the plans that looks like a small railroad to Mulder, but Richard has explained it’s a way to move feed and grain from place to place without a lot of effort and Luke gets himself involved in the conversation and suddenly he’s the one with the pencil marking up the sheets and explaining elements of woodworking that will help or hinder what Richard has in mind.

“Now, son, that’s not your place,” Sheriff Doggett says.

“No, please,” Mulder says. “If he’s going to be the one building things, he should have his say as well.”

Mulder thinks the respect the two men show to the younger boy is what may tip Sheriff Doggett over into agreeing to let him work the ranch. That, and the fact that he says himself he’s never seen his son so animated. Mulder shakes both of their hands before they go and says he looks forward to seeing Luke come December.

It takes roughly a week for Mr. Pendrell to do his surveying and to give them a rough draft of the plans for the expansion. He seems almost sad to leave them and says it was truly a pleasure to have worked on the designs. The finished plans will be sent to Mulder by way of a courier in a few weeks time.

With their guest gone, Mulder notices that Katherine returns to the subdued and distracted state she’d been in just before he arrived. She spends almost all her free time in the stables tending to Mary. Melvin, who has been just as watchful, thinks the foal might drop within the next few days.

Every night after they go to bed, Mulder slips quietly out of Katherine’s arms, dresses in the other room in clothes he’s hidden in the wardrobe, and goes out to the stables to check on the progress. Melvin has been sleeping just outside of Mary’s stall every night.

“How are things?” Mulder asks.

“She’s restless,” Melvin says. “I think whatever’s gonna happen will be happenin’ tonight.”

“You still think something isn’t right?”

“Usually a foal dropped this late in the year is smaller. Her belly is bigger than I ever seen a horse get and she drags her legs like it’s burdensome to her.”

“Should I have tried to call a vet up from Abilene?”

“Don’t think it would’ve done any good either way. I expect she’s either going to drop a dead foal or she’ll die trying.”

Mulder sighs heavily when he spots Melvin’s pistol at his hip. Mulder has only had to put down one horse in his life and it was one of the worst things he’d ever had to do, but he knows that if the alternative is that the horse had to suffer, it was the right thing to do. If the time comes, and Mary needs to be spared, he only hopes that he can prevent Katherine from having to witness it.

He sits with Melvin for a bit and they share a thermos of coffee. Mulder tells him about the plans for the expansion and how his vision has changed based on what Katherine and Mr. Pendrell had devised. He reveals to him that Katherine has moved her things into his room and Melvin gives him a look that can only mean he’s stating an obvious fact.

Mary snorts softly and they get up to check on her just as she folds her knees and starts to lay down. She rolls to her back and kicks her feet and snorts.

“Is she alright?” Mulder asks.

“She’s laborin’ alright.”

They wait as the horse writhes and then she stops and rolls to her side. She stays that way and lets out a sigh. She’s still for so long that Melvin opens the door to the stall, muttering to himself.

“No, no, no,” he says. “Come on, girl, you can’t stay down there.”

“Melvin?”

“Go get Jesse and Jimmy, we gotta get her on her feet, and I mean now.”

Mulder sprints out of the stables to the bunkhouse. He calls for Jesse and Jimmy who groggily sit up in their beds and then jump up and start pulling their trousers on. When Mulder runs back he sees Katherine, in her nightdress and robe, coming out the back door.

“Go on back,” Mulder calls to her.

“What’s happening?” she asks.

“Mary’s laboring. Go on back to bed.”

Katherine doesn’t listen, she runs to the stables with him and he tries to stop her, but she pushes past him to Mary’s stall. Jesse and Jimmy come tripping into the door behind her, shirts half-buttoned and shoes unlaced.

“What’s wrong?” Katherine asks.

“We’ve got to get her up,” Melvin says. “Boys, get in here and help me.”

The men file into the stall and stand behind the horse with Melvin. He directs them to push, and they put all their energy into it, but she doesn’t budge. They push again, and again, and Mary just sighs and snorts. Katherine watches through the bars on the stall door.

“Come on, girl,” Melvin says. “Come on.”

They push and push and Mulder is sweating and grunting, but the horse refuses to move. Finally, Melvin waves them to stop and he strokes the horse’s neck a bit and then feels her belly. He wipes his forehead on the sleeve of his shirt and then looks at Mulder and gives a small shake of his head. Mulder looks at Katherine through the bars.

“Go on to bed, honey,” he says. “You don’t want to be here.”

“No!” she cries, and rushes into the stall. She pushes Mulder’s arms away when he tries to block her and drops to her knees beside the horse. “Don’t give up, Mary,” she says. The horse snorts a little and Katherine strokes its cheek gently. “I know it hurts, I know you’re tired, but you have to get up. Get up, Mary. Get up!”

“Kate,” Mulder says.

“Push,” she orders. “Get back there and push. She’s not done fighting.”

The men bend down again and on Katherine’s order, they push and Mary lifts her head and kicks her feet a bit. Again, Katherine demands, and they push and Mary flails and gives a bellow and drops her head to Katherine’s lap.

“Don’t you quit on us,” Katherine tells her. “Get up, Mary. Get up! Push!”

Mulder puts everything he has into pushing on the horse’s shoulder and by some miracle, Mary rolls to her belly. She stands slowly, flanks quivering and glistening with sweat. Melvin tells Jesse and Jimmy to get him some towels and blankets. Mary drops her head to Katherine’s shoulder and breathes hard. Katherine strokes her neck and speaks softly to her.

“That’s a girl,” she says. “You did it.”

Mulder leaves the stall and doubles over with his hands on his knees and breathes hard. Melvin comes up next to him and takes a backwards glance at the stall and then down at Mulder.

“We ain’t outta the woods yet,” Melvin says.

↭

Katherine knows that Mulder has been sneaking out to the stables every night. He may think he’s doing a good job hiding it from her, but she’s been on to him from the very first time he slipped out of bed and the spare clothes were easy to find in the wardrobe in her old room. She lets him think he’s getting away with it though so that they don’t have to have a conversation about it.

The window in the kitchen offers her a decent view of the stable door and she’s taken to moving a chair from the table to sit and keep watch. Most nights, he’s not out there long. An hour, maybe a bit more. Tonight, she waits almost two full hours for him to come out of the stable and when he does, she knows immediately that something isn’t right. She watches him race across the yard and nearly take the door off the bunkhouse when he bursts in.

By the time Katherine runs to put on her robe and her shoes, Mulder is racing back to the stables and she’s right behind him. He tries to get her to go back inside, but there’s no way she’s going to keep back when she knows something is wrong.

Seeing Mary on the ground, lying still as though she’s already given up before she’s even started, puts a vice on her heart and squeezes the breath out of her. The men want to quit and Mulder wants her to leave, but she’s spotted the pistol at Melvin’s hip and she won’t let any of them give in so soon.

If there is a higher power, she begs that it gives Mary the strength she needs to get back on her feet. She begs God for his mercy in her mind and begs the horse out loud to not give up. And it works. They get Mary to her feet and she prays that the worst is now over. Jesse and Jimmy go back to bed.

Melvin rubs the sweaty horse down to keep her from getting a chill and drapes a horse blanket over her. He tells Katherine it’s best to let her be and let nature take its course from here. Katherine is reluctant to leave, but she joins Mulder and Melvin outside the stall where they sit and sip cold coffee from a thermos together as they wait.

Katherine prays, only instead of rubbing her thumbs and index fingers together in a phantom rosary, she silently twists her wedding ring. Mulder puts his hand over hers eventually and tucks her close to his side and under his arm.

Mary whinnies softly and they all jump up from the floor. The horse is stomping one foot on the ground and craning her neck to bite at her hindquarters. Her tail is swishing like mad. She stomps her foot again and stretches her neck up as she whinnies and bellows. She shifts to the side of the stall and starts to lean on it and stomp her foot.

“Is she supposed to be doing that?” Mulder asks.

“No,” Melvin answers, with a slightly frustrated growl.

Katherine goes into the stall. A horse may not be a woman, but the concept has got to be the same. She knows the clinical stages from the textbooks she’s read and if she can apply that knowledge here, she’s going to do it. She runs her hand down Mary’s neck and shoulder.

“You be careful, now,” Melvin says. “A horse in distress is liable to lash out.”

That sends Mulder into the stall after her. She glances at him and moves slowly back along the horse’s side.

“I’ve heard people say you know how to talk to the horses,” Katherine says. “Talk to her. Tell her we’re here to help.”

“I’ll try.” Mulder leans close and puts his cheek next to Mary’s and whispers to her.

Katherine eases her hand across the horse’s backside. She’s afraid of getting kicked more than anything and doesn’t want to do anything that might startle the horse. Her tail is swishing like mad and she can see there’s a protrusion forming at the ‘birthin’ exit’ as Melvin had called it. There’s a sudden gush of fluid and she steps back a little to avoid getting splattered.

“Melvin,” she says.

“The sac’s busted,” he says. “It’s good. It means the foal’s comin’. You see any hooves yet?”

“I think...yes, I think there is a hoof here.”

“Pointed up or down?”

“Down”

“Good, good. She just needs to push now.”

Katherine looks at Mulder and runs her hand along Mary’s back and belly. He stares at her as he whispers to the horse and she can feel the horse’s ribs almost undulate. Mary strains hard, but the hoof that had made its way out of her disappears.

“No,” Katherine whispers. “Come on, Mary.”

Mary shudders and a hoof appears again and more of a leg. When she strains again this time she kneels and both Mulder and Katherine have to jump out of the way as she collapses onto her side.

“It’s alright!” Melvin calls, before either of them start to panicking. “With the foal broke through now, she might stay down.”

Mulder crouches by Mary’s head and rubs her cheek as Katherine crouches at the back of her and keeps her eye on the progress. The laboring continues and Mary rolls and snorts a few times, each time bringing only just a bit more of the foal into view. And then she stops rolling again and takes a deep breath. Her eyes close and she just breathes.

“Don’t let her stop,” Melvin says. “She’s got to keep going.”

“Come on, Mary,” Mulder says. “You want to meet your little one, don’t you? We all want to meet your little one. You can do it.”

Mary snorts a little, but doesn’t move. It’s clear she’s exhausted. Katherine’s chin begins to quiver and her eyes fill with tears.

“Come on,” Mulder pleads.

“Please,” Katherine murmurs. “Please, Mary.”

Mary takes another deep breath and rolls to her belly. She lifts her hind end up and her hindquarters shiver with exertion. Her hooves start to slip under her and Katherine knows she’s going to go down any minute and if she does, she may not get up. Without thinking too much about it, she reaches out and grabs onto the foal’s leg and then slides her arm up and into Mary’s body.

“Tell her to push,” Katherine yells. “Push, Mary.”

“Push, Mary,” Mulder says. “Come on, girl.”

Katherine can feel Mary strain hard and she pulls at the same time. She pulls as hard as Mary pushes, but the foal is slick and there isn’t much purchase to take. She digs her knees into the ground and clutches the knee of the foal into her chest and pulls as hard as she can.

Mary gives a whinny and Katherine starts to fall backwards with the foal sliding free and into her lap.

“I’ll be dadgummed!” she hears Melvin cry.

“Oh my God,” Mulder whispers.

Mary shudders and then throws her head back to see her baby. It’s then that Katherine realizes that there’s not just one foal draped across her lap, there are two. They’re small and almost twisted together, both squirming to get free. She starts to laugh out of sheer relief and slides out from under the foals so that they can get free and learn how to stand on their own.

“Twins!” Melvin marvels. “That is rarer than a hen’s tooth right there.”

“Kate, you did it,” Mulder says. He starts to try to hug her, but she’s covered in gore and he hesitates.

She looks down at herself and at the blood and slime that covers her hands and she laughs harder. Suddenly though, she takes a shuddering breath and begins to sob. She cries so hard that she nearly falls to her knees, but Mulder catches her and lifts her up and takes her out of the stall.

“You did it,” Mulder tells her. “Honey, you did it. What’s wrong?”

It takes her some time to catch her breath and though she feels weak and like her throat is too pinched to speak, she looks up at him and whispers, “I’ll tell you everything.”

#i wrote this #broken things #chapter 22 #MSR #AU

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barkkletshunt · 3 years

Text

Those Worth Fighting For Part four

Have you ever seen a fic update so fast? Four updates in two days?

Part one

Part two

Part three

Part five

Part six

Part seven

Part eight

“While I like the idea of them having a red, green, and gold colour scheme going on, don’t you think it would have too much of a christmas theme and take away from the magic of their wedding?” Marinette sat on the same couch as Felix did, across from Kagami and Adrien who, despite their careful appearances, looked frazzled.

“But those are our favourite colours,” Adrien tried, but Felix held his hand up to stop his cousin.

“Your wedding is in late spring, if you think for a moment that christmas colours are appropriate for that time of year then you need to hand over your fathers fashion industry to me right now.” Felix sipped at his now cold cup of coffee. “If anything, we could do red and gold and have green accents if we used things like leaves and give it a more rustic feel.”

“But that wouldn’t go well with their general aesthetic. They need to look like a king and queen, not a cottagecore couple.” Marinette countered. “I think we could go with a green, gold, and cream theme. That way they both get one of their favourites while keeping with the posh style. Either way, no matter what gold has to be a part of it. That I will not budge on.”

“If we made Adrien’s tie green it would bring out his eyes more.” Felix hummed, looking over at his co-planner. “You have good tastes, Marinette.”

“Why thank you, Felix, your tastes aren’t so bad yourself.” She said back.

The two planners had successfully gotten their way with the wedding with everything they had put forth. Marinette’s ideas were either on point with Felix’s or close to it so the planning was going a lot easier than either of them had expected. Both had spent enough time with the bride and groom to know their likes and dislikes and due to their fashion background they knew what they were doing.

They were unstoppable, not that Kagami and Adrien even tried. They saw the fire that was lit behind their companions' eyes and knew better, and it wasn’t like they didn’t like anything their friends had said. In fact, the more the two spoke the more excited Kagami and Adrien felt about the upcoming event.

“Why don’t we make the groomsmen wear gold ties, just so that Adriens tie doesn’t fade in with the rest of them.” Marinette rambled, showing Felix the designs she had tucked away in her portfolio that she refused to show Kagami. “If you wear green too your eyes will stand out and Adrien is supposed to be the one people are paying attention to.”

“Should the bridesmaids wear green then? If that dress design is anything to go by we don’t want Kagami to blend in with the other girls.” Felix hummed, sliding closer to Marinette without thinking about it. “Can’t have you stealing the show from the bride, you know.”

Marinette’s face grew warm at the compliment, even if it did match her unintentional flirting moments earlier. The added proximity didn’t help, but she could pull herself together. This was Felix, after all, and despite how nice he had been that evening she still needed to see more of him before passing a proper judgement on him.

The two planners missed the looks between the future Mr. and Mrs Agreste.

“Well, after the akuma attack today I feel exhausted. I think I shall turn in tonight, since the two of you have it covered.” Kagami said as she stood from her seat.

“Did you want me to make you a coffee?” Adrien asked innocently enough, but was immediately shut down.

“No, if I have a coffee now I won’t sleep.” Kagami raised her brow at her fiance, wondering if he had caught her drift yet. “And you have business to take care of in the morning. Let’s leave the planning to these two, shall we?”

The blonde man abruptly stood up, realizing what she was getting at. “Oh, oh! Yeah! Of course! They don’t really need our input for any of this stuff anyways, and I’m definitely beat after that sentimonster. We should go to bed.”

The owners of the house bid their goodnights and quickly escaped from the room, leaving Marinette and Felix sitting there dumbfounded.

“Have, have they always been that obvious in their plans?” Felix finally asked, breaking the silence that had stretched on after their friend's departure.

Marinette shook her head, “I have only seen them like that once when they were trying to plan a surprise birthday party for me.”

“And how well did that go for them?”

“Adrien ordered the cake from my parents bakery over the phone, but didn’t realize that I was the one taking his order.” Marinette recalled the look of horror on Adrien’s face when he had come to pick the cake up the day prior, and had begged Marinette not to tell Kagami he blew it. “For someone so smart he can be really oblivious, you know.”

“I did live with him for two years, I am well aware of how he can be.” Felix snorted. He shifted positions so he was facing towards Marinette. “I think it actually turned me into a better person, to be honest.”

“What do you mean?” Marinette mirrored his position on the couch. Adrien was an open book to her, she could ask him anything about himself and he’d answer her, and when she asked about his time in England he never said much about it. She couldn’t miss hearing about it from a second party, though. Especially when her friend was the cause of someone becoming a better person.

“Well, as I’m sure you are aware I was a terrible teenager.” Felix started.

“What? You? The man who deleted my love confession and mocked our friends?” Marinette jokingly pushed his shoulder. “I don’t believe it.”

Felix grinned, “I know, I know. I’m such a saint now. I wasn’t sure if you had even recognized me at first.”

“It was a bit difficult without those devil horns you used to wear.”

“Oh those? Those were natural. Grew them myself. Kind of miss them, actually.”

The two laughed for a moment, enjoying their friendly banter that seemed to come so easily to them.

“Okay,” Marinette giggled, “tell me how our sweet sunshine child managed to change the demon known as Felix.”

“Well, when he first moved in I was sent into a whirlwind of emotion.” Felix started, “I was still angry that Adrien had abandoned me when my father had died because his father wouldn’t let him call or text us, but I also knew how terrible it was to lose a father even if it was only to a lifetime imprisonment. I had so much baggage that I took it out on him. I think I made the first few weeks of his stay with us hell.”

The blonde man shifted, no longer wanting to look her in the eye as he confessed to his crimes. It didn’t take a trained psychoanalyst to see the regret he felt coming out and causing him to fidget.

“It was when he transferred into my school and started to get bullied that I changed my tune.” Marinette was shocked. Adrien was so loveable and kind, how could anyone have bullied him? Then it donned on her. He was a terrorist's son. “People would shove notes in his locker with butterflies on it, or draw on his desk, and he’d just smile and say that they must have been doing it because of his fathers fashion symbol being a butterfly. Perhaps he wasn’t oblivious to it, but purposefully ignorant. No one would want to believe their father was the supervillian of Paris after all.”

“It was then that I decided to switch my targets from my cousin to those bullying him, and oh was I ever brutal. I had a few of them expelled for harassment, some I actually got physical with since they assumed I was Adrien. Either way, it was my school and I wasn’t going to let anyone insult my cousin. That was my job.” Felix’s brows pulled together. “It was the fights that got Adrien to step in. He reminded me that the emotions of people were complicated things, and that they were acting out more out of fear than actual hatred towards him. He told me what he actually needed wasn’t another bodyguard, but someone to lead his PR campaign.”

Marinette remembered when Adrien’s image in the media had changed the first time, when he went from brilliant model to the heir to Hawkmoth's legacy. It had taken almost another full year of Adrien working harder than he ever had before to show the world that he wasn’t a monster, and it still took a live interview from Ladybug herself to convince the rest of the public that there was no way Adrien was involved in any of his fathers crimes nor was he a holder of a miraculous. It had been a wild ride from start to finish, but all considering it only took two whole years to get Adrien back in the world's good graces when the sunshine boy didn’t think he’d ever be able to live it down.

“I spearheaded Adrien’s redemption. We donated to so many relief funds, I used our similar appearances to go onto talk shows to give a more calculated interviews. I did everything in my power to make people realize how inherently good Adrien is, and it worked.” Felix let out a long breath before turning a kind smile towards her. “But by the time all of that was done I had changed. I had become a person Adrien was proud of, and now I am here planning his wedding with his best friend. Whom, might I add, he talked about almost as much as he did his own girlfriend.”

“Now if you could have told me that, say, five years ago I would have been ecstatic.” Marinette set her portfolio down on the coffee table as she remembered how intense her crush for Adrien used to be. “But I am long over my crush on Adrien.”

“I am sorry about that, by the way.”

“Hm?” Marinette tilted her head to the side, not sure what he was talking about.

“Deleting your confession.” He explained. “It was wrong of me. I was jealous and petty and I’m sorry.”

Marinette wasn’t angry anymore, even if she wanted to be. Felix wasn’t the same as he was all those years ago and neither was she. It was silly for her to hold onto all that anger when he had changed himself so completely.

“I am, however, not sorry you didn’t end up with my cousin.” He grinned. “Now I might have a chance.”

Maybe not so completely.

“In your dreams, devil boy!”

#TWFF #Those worth fighting for #felix x marinette #marinette dupain cheng #marinette #felinette #fanon felix #felix graham de vanily #kagami tsurugi #adrien agreste #Im definitely making adrien dumb but he has a heart of gold #Part Four

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fridayfirefly · 3 years

Text

Lost and Found [Part Eleven]

Masterlist | Ao3

Despite the fact that he didn't get to bed until 2 AM that morning, Damian still woke up at 6 AM with the sunrise. Sleep deprivation was the last worry on his mind when his Soulmate - beautiful, breathtaking Marinette - was sleeping just one hall down from him.

He met Alfred in the kitchen, already preparing for the meals of the day. The waffle batter was already mixed, coffee was already brewing, and butter was already softening on the counter. "Do you need any help preparing breakfast?"

Alfred shook his head. "Thank you for the offer, but I pride myself in my ability to keep this kitchen under control, no matter how many visitors we have. Besides, I'm sure you would rather spend your morning getting ready for your day with your Soulmate than in the kitchen with me."

Damian nodded. "I'll see you at breakfast, then."

"I look forward to meeting Miss Dupain-Cheng."

Damian left the kitchen and made his way to the gardens, thinking about the night before.

They had gotten back to the Manor at 1:30 AM, too late for the Parisian guests to meet the Wayne family. Damian walked Marinette to her room to let her get some rest, wishing all the while that they could stay up together until the sunrise. Rationally, he knew that Marinette needed her sleep, especially with the drastic time change, but his emotions refused to let her go so soon. However, logic won out in the end, and he kissed her cheek and wished her goodnight. As Damian walked Chloé to her room, taking over for Jason while his brother packed his bags back in his Gotham apartment, Damian asked Chloé for a favor. There was a certain plan he wanted to put into action, that he needed some assistance with. Chloé agreed to help him out and their plan was set: in the morning, Chloé would bring Marinette to her room so that the two girls could get ready together, while Damian brought to Marinette's room a vase of fresh-cut flowers and a handwritten letter asking to take her on a date.

Chloé called his plan "sickeningly romantic", but said it with the sort of wistful smile that made Damian send a text to Jason advising his brother to bring flowers for his own Soulmate. Maybe it was sickeningly romantic, Damian thought over the concept, but he knew that it wasn't a bad thing. Emotions had been difficult for him at first, growing up the way he did, but he now knew better than to try and hide that part of himself from Marinette.

Damian already picked out which flowers to cut days in advance, fragrant purple wisteria and delicate white roses, which he got from the garden before the morning dew had burned off of them. He placed them in the glass vase, arranging and re-arranging them the whole way up to Marinette's room. He knocked on the door, and when there was no reply, he nudged it open. A flash of red by the window caught his eyes, but by the time his eyes focused on the spot, nothing was there. Shrugging it off as a trick of the light, Damian placed the vase of flowers on her bedside table and set down the note beside it. The note, which despite its simplicity had taken several drafts to perfect, read: Dear Marinette, I hope you slept well last night. Breakfast will be served at 8:00 AM. With your permission, I would like to spend today showing you around the city. Once the wedding approaches, I'm certain that we will both be busier, so I would like to get as much time with you now as possible. Sincerely, your Soulmate, Damian

With his plan completed, Damian left the room to go get ready for his first day with Marinette. He quickly sent a text to Chloé, giving her the all-clear to let Marinette return to her room.

Damian had just gotten out of the shower when he saw a note sitting on his bathroom counter. In what was unmistakably Marinette's handwriting, Dear Damian, I would love to go on a date with you today. Sincerely, your Soulmate, Marinette.

Damian breathed out a sigh of relief as the lingering doubt that Marinette might have changed her mind in the last six hours faded away. It is a silly fear, one that Damian wasn't used to indulging in. However, Marinette seemed to bring out all the little human characteristics that the League of Shadows had trained out of him when he was young. A younger Damian would have hated Marinette for it, but in the present day, in the privacy of his room, Damian smiled and let the feeling of relief wash over him.

——————————————————————

Marinette, Chloé, and Nino were all at the dining room table with Jon when Damian entered the room. Marinette brightened up as soon as she saw him. "Damian!" If Damian thought that Marinette looked beautiful last night (which he did) with tangled hair and tired eyes from a seven-hour plane ride, she looked downright breathtaking that morning, in a pretty pale pink dress, with her hair done up in a bun, tendrils curling around her face.

"Good morning, Marinette. I hope you slept well."

"I slept great." A look of annoyance took over Marinette's face. "Even though someone woke me up early on someone else's orders." Marinette's expression shifted from indignation to a bright smile. "I did appreciate the flowers, though, so thank you for those."

"You're very welcome." Damian was pleased that she liked them. He was a little troubled by how intently he was watching her facial expression. "Concerning our date tonight-"

Damian was cut off by the sound of voices coming down the hallway. Richard walked in beside Babs in her wheelchair, the couple having a lively debate about what to do for their respective bachelor and bachelorette parties. "We have to hire one. How often in your life do you get the opportunity to hire a stripper?" argued Babs.

"Alright," conceded Richard, "We get one stripper, and we have him split time between both parties. Now onto decorations - I'm thinking we each pick the decorations for each other's parties, and then it's like a surprise when we get there. And I'm not only saying this because I found the best bachelorette decorations on eBay and I already placed a bid."

Chloé broke the silence that followed in the dining room, as a muffled laugh escaped the hand she had pressed over her mouth. "I'm sorry, but aren't you Waynes billionaires? Can't you afford to hire two strippers?"

"Not billionaires," Tim chimed in as he walked into the room with Connor. "Every time Bruce comes close to being a billionaire, he increases the wages of all Wayne Enterprise employees except for himself and donates a ton of money to charity."

"I suppose we could hire two strippers, but then what if one of them is better than the other. That wouldn't be fair," mused Barbara.

"We could have them switch halfway through, that way we each get the same experience," Richard added.

"How about, instead of arguing the logistics of strippers, you greet the Soulmates who just arrived last night?" asked Jon, with a tone of voice that very clearly demonstrated how absurd he felt their conversation was. Damian had spent too much time with Richard and Babs over the past few weeks of wedding planning - nothing that came out of their mouths phased him anymore.

"Oh, hello Soulmates of my brothers and Soulmate of my brother's Soulmate's brother. I'm Dick."

"Babs," said Babs with a wave.

"Tim."

"Conner."

Richard started pointing to each of the Parisians. "You must be Marinette, Damian's Soulmate. You're Nino, Jon's Soulmate. And you are..?"

"Chloé, my platonic Soulmate," said Jason as he walked into the room.

"I can introduce myself," snapped Chloé, glowering at Jason, who looked a bit sheepish as he sat down in the chair next to her.

Jason picked up his fork and waved it between Chloé and Marinette. "So you two know each other."

Marinette nodded. "We've all known each other since we were kids. Chloé, Nino, and I have been in the same class since maternelle - which you call kindergarten in America. We've been best friends for years now."

"Now that's a coincidence. Both sets of three Soulmates knew each other before they met up with their other halves." Richard nodded, looking the three Parisians up and down.

"Coincidence is putting it mildly. Statistically, it's incredibly improbable. I didn't run the numbers, but I'm sure if I did, it would be in the range of one in a trillion," Tim piped up.

"Good luck, I suppose," said Marinette with a shrug.

"Luck, coincidence, statistical improbability - call it whatever you want to call it. It's still mind-boggling that out of 7 billion people, you three - best friends who go to the same school - end up with Soulmates who are all family."

The conversation turned to other topics as the table waited for Bruce to arrive before they started breakfast. Richard got Marinette talking about her aspiring career as a designer, and it instantly brought Marinette out of her shell. Her passion and enthusiasm were contagious; Damian couldn't help but smile softly to himself as he watched her explain to Richard and Babs the inspiration behind her latest collection of dresses named The City of Lights, which incorporated elements of Parisian fashion throughout the ages, with a focus on finding innovative ways to incorporate light into the dresses. As Marinette was explaining in depth the pros and cons between tea candles and real candles (according to Marinette, an open flame near your hand-crafted creation is a very big con, but she felt so strongly against tea candle that she would rather her dress catch on fire than ruin the integrity of her design), Bruce walked in, wearing a bathrobe with the words World's Best Dad on the back, plaid flannel pajama pants, and fuzzy slippers. Overall, he looked nothing like the intimidating Batman and everything like a regular Dad on a Saturday morning. Damian had to admit, it was a good strategy for putting their new houseguests at ease, especially Marinette and Chloé, who were meeting their Soulmates' father for the very first time.

"Good morning everyone," said Bruce. He grabbed his coffee mug off the counter, filled it to the brim, chugged it all in one go, then refilled it and took it to the table. "What's for breakfast?"

"Pancakes," Alfred replied as he walked in with a platter stacked full of them. "Please don't spill any syrup on the tablecloth, it's a pain to get out. And before you ask, yes, I am talking to you, Richard."

"One time," Richard grumbled. "You spill an entire bottle of syrup on the tablecloth one time, and suddenly that's all anyone remembers."

Marinette laughed. "I take it I'm not the clumsiest person at the table, then."

"I'm not clumsy. I'm just sporadically situationally unaware," Richard defended.

"Clumsy," teased Babs, flicking Richard's nose and stealing the last bite of pancake off his plate. They were so effortlessly domestic, affectionate with each other all the time in a way Damian was beginning to envy. Damian kept his expression still as he sat in internal shock at the realization that he was jealous of what Richard and Babs had together. Damian was a naturally private person; he had assumed he would despise public displays of affection. However, with Marinette, he could see the appeal. Marinette had flipped his whole worldview on its head. Now he wanted romantic outings and for everyone to know that she was his. It was a strange and foreign feeling, but deep down it felt right.

——————————————————————

As breakfast winded down, Damian offered to show Marinette around the house. The first place he took her was to the gardens. Damian knew that Marinette didn't like surprises all that much, so he planned on explaining to her exactly what they would be doing for their date.

"The gardens are so pretty!" exclaimed Marinette. "Is this where the wedding will be held?"

"Yes. The ceremony will be at the gazebo in the center of the rose garden."

"I'm sure it will be lovely," said Marinette with a soft smile on her face.

"For our date today, I was hoping I could show you around some of my favorite spots in the city. If you would rather stay at the Manor, I understand but-"

Marinette cut him off. "I would love that. I might need to change my shoes though." She gestured to the three-inch heels on her feet."

"I would advise bringing along a pair of good walking shoes. I would hate for you to get hurt."

"It would be a shame to break my ankle on our very first date," agreed Marinette. "I'll just go grab a change of shoes and my purse, and then we can go."

Damian smiled at her. "I'll wait for you here."

Damian watched Marinette leave, thinking of all his favorite things he could finally show her, and all of her smiles he could finally see.

Taglist: @fanboy7794 @mikantsume @hetalia-lover-is-here @howtoshuckatlife @you-will-never-know-how-i-think @redscarlet95 @derpingrainbow @friedchickening @melicmusicmagic @beautym3 @kunstner1 @shizukiryuu @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @crazylittlemunchkin @black-streak @darkshadowguardian @mystery-5-5 @trubel43 @fandomfan315 @vincentvangoose @royalchaoticfangirl @mooshoon @drama-queen-supreme @kae690 @unabashedlyswimmingtimemachine @zoerayne2426 @littleredrobinhoodlum @lunar-wolf-warrior @dani-ari @sam-spectra @be-happy-every-day-please @xxmadamjinxx @interobanginyourmom @northernbluetongue @eliza-bich @romanoff-queen @scribblinggraveyard @dur55 @jeminiikrystal @sassakitty @miss-mysterys-blog @aegyobutpsycho2 @pirats-pizzacanninibles @chaosace @pepelachanel @sturchling @amayakans @athenalovesredsblog @boxercity1

#maribat #daminette #maridami #miraculous ladybug #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #Damian Wayne #marinette x damian #lost and found #my work #fanfic #miraculous ladybug fanfic

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earthfire-75 · 3 years

Text

Kashmir

Chapter One, Part One: Kashmir (The Trick is to Keep Breathing)

Author’s notes: co-written with @nature-and-music, beta-ed by @lady-jane-revisited

I had fallen asleep listening to KIashmir as I fell asleep. It was all I could think about after that strange woman had told me that I would find myself in a distant place, that I would hold the fate of three hearts in my hands. I tried not to think about it much, but as the day grew later, that was proving more and more difficult, until I finally fell asleep.

I had no idea how right that woman was and I wondered if she was psychic.

I woke in an alley, laying flat on my back and I felt like I wanted to scream. I didn’t know why it even fazed me anymore. Three, three times now… Did the universe hate me that much? Who was I going to meet that I would get my heart broken over this time? Who knows, maybe I wouldn’t this time, but I was not holding my breath. In both previous times I had found myself in a different universe than my own, that was exactly what had happened. I fell in love and just as I was ready to accept that I wasn’t going anywhere, the universe had other plans.

I picked myself up from the ground and found I wasn’t far from the mouth of the alley. Dusting myself off, I sighed as I noticed my already threadbare Zeppelin shirt now had a couple of tears in it, I headed out of the alley. I wasn’t paying as much attention to my surroundings as I should have been, trying to just keep my head down and find a place to stay and worry about everything else in the morning. But I ran into someone as I rounded the corner. I quickly apologized, but the person had my arms in a gentle hold.

“Are you alright, love?”

The familiar-ish English accent made me look up. Holy crap! Jimmy fucking Page! He chuckled at me, letting go of my arms.

“While it’s good to be recognized, I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage.”

“Dear God, I said that out loud… sorry. I’m Anjelika,” I replied, my heart starting to slow down.

He chuckled again, smiling at me. “It’s quite alright, love. Come to the studio with me, at least get you a new shirt.” He tilted his head as he took a better look at the shirt I was wearing. “I see you’re a fan, but I don’t recognize this design.”

Shit! “I, uh...made it myself. One of my many talents.”

“Ah. Well, shall we?” He asked, gesturing to a building a little further down the street. I nodded and we walked together in silence, feeling Jimmy’s eyes on me now and then, until we reached the building. He opened the door for me and followed me in. “Straight down the hall and the first door on the left will take you to G’s office. You can wait there while I find you a clean shirt.”

“G?” I asked half distractedly. I was busy taking in my surroundings in awe when I heard Jimmy chuckle. “What?”

“Nothing,” he chuckled again. “G is our manager, Peter Grant. He looks intimidating, and I admit, he can be when needed. But for the most part, he’s just a giant teddy bear.”

“Alright. I’ll see you there, yeah?”

“Yes. G might already be in his office, I’ll go with you to make an introduction. The rest of the band should be showing up soon as well.”

I nodded and headed down the hall to the first door on the left, as instructed. As I entered, sure enough there was a large man sitting at the desk in the middle of the room. The man I assumed was “G” looked up at me with a confused expression until Jimmy came in behind me.

“Jimmy! You’re early and I see you’ve brought a guest. Welcome, miss!”

“Please, call me Anjelika.”

“Morning, G! I came across this poor girl about a block away. Offered to get her a clean shirt at the least. I’m going to go find one, figured she’d be safe with you. Just keep Robert away from her.”

“I’m not sure that’s possible, but I can try.”

After that exchange, Jimmy left to find a clean shirt as promised. I started to look around the office, a bit fascinated by all the gold records. As I look around, Peter silently takes stock of me. The man towers over me, though I’m of average height.

“Anjelika?” He called to me, getting my attention. I turned to face the large man again, humming in acknowledgement.

“Forgive me saying, but you look like a sturdy woman. If you’re interested, we have an opening for a roadie. Specifically, someone who knows their guitars.”

“Well, I’m far from an expert, but my dad taught me quite a bit growing up. I know how to tune and play acoustic, electric and bass guitars. As for my interest, how about an enthusiastic hell yes!?” I wouldn’t mention that it was basically a lifelong dream, plus, this took care of how I was going to live while here.

Peter’s face lit up with a bright smile and stuck his hand out to me. “Welcome to the crazy life we call Rock n’ Roll!”

I laughed and took Peter’s hand to shake it, but before I could respond, another voice came from the doorway. “Did I hear right? You found the last roadie we need?” The accent was light and soft even in excitement. It was that and the feeling of another of my kind present that made me turn toward the door. There stood Robert Plant, John Paul Jones and John Bonham, a.k.a. Bonzo, who seemed to be eyeing me. Robert was as well, but their expressions were quite different. Bonzo was curious, if a little cautious, Robert had a clear interest in me, like a lion sizing up its prey.

I smiled to myself as I observed each of them. Bonzo’s cautiousness was a little surprising, but everything else about them was everything I had heard.

“Yes,” Peter replied. “Jimmy brought her in, but yes, I asked her if she would be interested in the job and she accepted. Anjelika, meet Robert Plant, John Paul Jones and John Bonham. Boys, meet Anjelika.”

John Paul was the first to step forward. “I trust Peter’s judgment, but have you ever played guitar before?”

“I have, granted, it’s been a few years, but I think I remember a thing or two.” I responded with confidence.

“Don’t worry Jonesy,” Peter said. “I’m sure Jimmy will want to test her skills.”

“Who’s skills will I want to test?” Jimmy asked as he came back with a clean shirt, walking in and handing said shirt to me.

I took the shirt, my cheeks burning in embarrassment. “Mine, apparently. Mr. Grant offered me a job.”

“Well then, what are we waiting for? There’s a party tonight and the American leg of the tour starts tomorrow.” He announces and starts back out the door.

“Tomorrow?! That’s cutting it a bit close, don’t you think?”

Robert approached now, taking my hands in his. “Sometimes that’s just how it works out. If you need anything let us know, for now, we should join Jimmy in the studio.”

I nodded , slowly pulling my hands out of Robert’s and followed Jimmy until we reached a recording room. “Alright, let’s see what you can do, love.”

Without a word, I picked up the acoustic guitar and tuned it with ease, then I did the same with the two electric guitars. Finally, I turned to the bass guitar and tuned it, but I didn’t stop there. Something in me needed to sing too, to show them all of the talent I had to offer. Even if the song wasn’t my own. I stood up, pulled the guitar strap over my head, and stepped in front of the microphone.

I began a strong bass line and then, feeling a combination of nervousness and excitement , I began to sing.

“She’s not the kind of girl

Who likes to tell the world

About the way she feels about herself.

She takes a little time

In making up her mind

She doesn’t want to fight against the tide.

Lately, I’m not the only one

I say never trust anyone

Always the one who has to drag her down

Maybe you’ll get what you want this time around.

Can’t bare to face the truth

So sick you can not move

And when it hurts

He takes it out on you.

Lately, I’m not the only one

I say never trust anyone

Always the one who has to drag her down

Maybe you’ll get what you want this time around.

The trick is to Keep Breathing.”

I was about to continue when I saw five shocked faces looking back at me. Jimmy seemed to recover faster than the rest, Robert soon after. “Oh, we’re keeping her,” The singer announced.

Jimmy shook his head at his friend. “She’s not a pet, Rob. But yes, I think she’ll do nicely for the job.” He turned his attention once more to me. “Congratulations, you’re hired!”

I couldn’t help myself as I did a little dance before setting the bass back in its place and rejoined the others. In my joy, I ran up and hugged Jimmy and then Peter. “Thank you! But, if you all don’t mind, I’d really like to change my shirt now.”

“I’ll show you to the bathrooms.” It was Bonzo who spoke now, holding out his arm like a gentleman for me to take.

As we walked down the hallway, my eyes wandered at the sight before me. The studio environment was unlike what I had ever seen, the space was brimming with creativity as the sounds of instruments filled my ears. I could have only imagined what sorts of sounds would materialize here within these walls.

My attention was brought back when Bonzo spoke to me, “‘Ere you are Anjelika, love. I’ll wait for you out here since the studio is a bit big and well it’s your first day.”

“Thank you,” I said with a smile.

I looked at myself in the mirror after replacing my shirt. The material fit snugly against my torso and the design was so colorful with the band’s logo printed in bold letters that practically jumped off of the garment. Aside from admiring the clothing, I couldn’t help but stare at the woman looking back at me with a sense of wonderment and confusion. A new life was about to begin for me: accomodations taken care of, decent pay, and an opportunity to work alongside one of the biggest, if not the biggest, bands in the world right now. I felt happy and yet, something was lingering inside of me. Doubt? Worry? I was jolted from my thought process by the sound of hard knocking.

Bonzo’s voice was muffled, “Everything alright?”

“Coming,” I answered back.

Jonesy was fiddling with a mandolin when we returned to the recording space. Long fingers turning the tuning keys as his other hand made use of the strings. Jimmy was beside Grant going over the business aspect of the tour and Robert was occupied with his novel.

Bonzo leaned over the lanky singer, “How goes the little fellowship Percy? Are they about to fight a dragon again?”

Robert’s eyebrows quirked from over the pages, “Wrong book there Bonzo, this is the one where they venture out to destroy the One Ring. That is until everything goes wrong for the group-”

Jonesy butted in with a chuckle, “What is this, the tenth time you read the book this week?”

“Sod off,” Robert replied, “Just because you don’t find it interesting, doesn’t mean it’s a bad story.”

I glanced over and saw that he was reading The Fellowship of the Ring by Tolkien, a favorite of his judging by the tone in his voice, “What part are you on now? Have they just left Rivendell?”

Robert’s eyes lit up as he put his book down for a moment, “Yes, they have actually. You’ve read Fellowship?”

I smiled, “All of them, including The Hobbit.”

“Looks like you’ll have someone to talk nerd with you Percy,” Bonzo chortled as he grabbed his drumsticks.

Grant cleared his throat, “Alright settle down everyone, come on you lot have more to record. Bonzo get in there.”

Like an excited schoolboy, the man rushed in and made himself comfortable at the drum kit. Lightning fast reflexes created the thunderous booming of his instrument. I thought the glass was going to shatter from the sheer force of his playing alone. To hear him through headphones was one thing, but to actually see the man at work was something else entirely. He was like a beast letting out everything within himself, the raw power echoing from the percussion instruments. He was swift in his ability to move from one part of his set to the next, his fists holding on tightly to his drum sticks as he went from cymbal to snare to Tom. His footwork on pedals was quick as his entire body followed a musical rhythm.

As the boys began to record their song, Peter approached me once again, sitting in the chair beside me. “You know, what Percy said earlier…if you need anything, just ask. I know this was a bit sprung on you.”

I smiled a little and nodded. “Literally everything I own right now, I’m wearing. And technically, the shirt is borrowed.”

“Nah, you keep it. We can provide you with some shirts that were made for the tour. They’re for the roadies. As for anything else you might need, I can give you a small advance on your pay.”

“I…don’t know what to say. Thank you!”

He patted my hand and stood up. “It’s no problem at all, love. Wait here, I’ll be right back.” He left the room and I turned my attention to the boys. I recognized the song and couldn’t help but sing along from my side of the room.

“It is the springtime of my loving

The second season I am to know

You are the sunlight in my growing

So little warmth I've felt before

It isn't hard to feel me glowing

I watched the fire that grew so low, oh

It is the summer of my smiles

Flee from me, keepers of the gloom

Speak to me only with your eyes

It is to you, I give this tune

Ain't so hard to recognize, oh

These things are clear to all from time to time, ooh”

I had to hold back the tears that threatened to fall. I did not need Robert, or any of them really, to see me cry. Peter returned shortly after and handed me $100. I was in a bit of a shock, to say the least. “This is too much,” I said.

“Nonsense. Get yourself what you need, maybe a couple of dresses for after-parties. Anything left, consider it to be spending money.”

“Thank you, again, Mr. Grant.”

“Please, call me Peter. Or G, if you prefer.”

“Alright,” I smiled up at him, “thank you, G.”

The boys finished up the song and Peter stopped the recording. “I think you boys got it this time.”

“What did you think of it, Anjelika?” Robert asked, sounding a little shy.

“You all did wonderfully, it’s beautiful.”

Robert beamed like a ray of sunshine and the others seemed to approve of my opinion as well. Setting their instruments down and joined Peter and I on the other side of the studio.

“The party starts in a couple of hours, love. You should probably get your shopping done, there won’t be time for it tomorrow. I’m sure one of the boys will be happy to go with you, New York is a large city.”

“A guide seems like a good idea, especially since this is my first time in New York.” I turned to the boys only to see four sets of eyes looking imploringly at me. It seemed they all wanted to get out for a little while. I chuckled and shook my head. “You all look like lost puppies. Come on, let’s go. Robert, you can be my fashion consultant.”

Jonesy laughed. “You’ll regret that.”

“At least she didn’t give the job to Jimmy,” Bonzo laughed back.

Jonesy raised his hands up, “Fair point.”

“Oi!”

* * *

The city of New York was truly the picturesque place of all that was new and grand, while simultaneously being the same location that would change its image once the sun began to set. While not exactly a local and there was still a fair amount of daylight left, Robert insisted that I should stay close to him

“It’s a short walk from here, come on.”

“Robert, I think I’ll be okay. Besides, we'll go in and find a couple of dresses, some jeans and such. Shouldn’t be that hard,” I noted.

Sure enough, we made it to the boutique in no time. The place had all manner of outfits that were either displayed on their mannequins or hung from the racks. A number of the garments seemed to appeal more to the current generation with its float patterns, striped pants, button up blouses and skirts, big collared shirts, sweater vests, and corduroy suits. The shoes were something to marvel at as well. Robert had a big smile across his face and was about head to the nearest rack, that is until I cleared my throat.

“Right, dresses, sorry love.”

I raised a brow with a smirk, “It’s fine, I just have no clue where to start… Excuse me, ma’am?”

An employee turned my way, “Yes, how may I help you?”

“Could you help me find a couple of dresses for a party tonight?”

She answered with a smile, “Yeah, follow me to get your measurements first.”

She had me stand before a mirror, using her measuring tape to get my exact numbers. I noticed Robert’s eyes in the reflection examining me as she wrapped the tape around my bust. He bit down in his lip and tried his best to hide his smirk as I scowled at him. After the measuring was finished, she brought over a small collection of dresses and led me to the changing room.

She moved the curtain aside, “Just leave whatever you like inside the room and let me know if you need anything else.”

“I also need some work clothes. Jeans, mostly, under-things…and work boots.”

After thanking her, I made sure to keep the curtain closed up keeping my eyes out in case I see those ocean blue eyes peering at me. Everything looked really lovely, yet my perception changed the moment each time the outfits were on me. Everything seemed in place and the colors were beautiful, but nothing looked right to me. Even when I lifted my hair up in a makeshift ponytail and turned around, it hardly made a difference.

Robert cleared his throat, “Anjelika, how are you doin’ in there?”

“Um, well…”

“Come on, let me see you. I haven’t seen you in any of the dresses yet since we got here,” Robert mentioned.

“I don’t know, I don’t think… maybe…”

“Please, come out,” he begged.

I stepped out wearing a thin strapped red dress, the flowing skirt piece reached down to my knees and was cut asymmetric.

Robert eyed my look, “You look beautiful in red.”

“You think so? Thank you. What else should I get?”

Robert walked over and examined the other ones, holding up each one by the hanger’s metal hook. Positioning them in a way so that he could see what they looked like on me. He handed over the orange dress that was a bit longer and had a low v-neck cut. I was skeptical to wear it again, but tried it on once more and showed him.

The boutique employee returned with a small pile of jeans, a pack of underwear and a few bras, handing them over to me. “What’s your shoe size, dear?”

“9 ½ to 10, depending on the shoe.”

The woman nodded and left again to find shoes for me. I went back into the dressing room to try on the jeans and found they actually fit. As I came out once more, I found Robert had followed the woman to the shoe section. So I sat with my items until they returned. I tried on the work boots first, finding that the 10’s fit better. Robert had apparently picked out a pair of heels to go with the dresses. In that case, it was the 9 ½ that fit.

When we got to the register, the woman had also managed to fish up some makeup and jewelry to go with the dresses as well.

@salixfragilis @brownskinsugarplum76 @firethatgrewsolow @lady-jane-revisited @princesspagey @tremble-and-shake @tangerine-page @m-faithfull @jimmys-zeppelin @timetraveller4 @callmethehunter @tophats-n-lespauls please let me know if I missed anyone or if you would like to be added.

#led zeppelin fanfics #robert plant fanfiction #roger daltrey fanfiction #the who fanfiction #robert plant x reader x roger daltrey #alice cooper fanfic #no smut #yet #fem!roger daltrey

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