#my mom tried telling her “oh she de-stresses by staying home n reading” | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

s-and-n-writes · 3 years

Text

another long day

crimson and bluebell: part two

summary:

Marinette Rossi is tired of everything: from Lila’s constant berating and Madame Rossi’s preferential care of her ‘angel-like’ daughter, to how everyone at school (even Alya) seems to believe her evil stepsister over her.

It’s like she’s Cinderella, except without the fairy godmother and the happy ending. She doesn’t even have a prince.

Or so she thinks.

Between the appearance of a new boy who seems to have captured her heart, and a gala run by her fashion idol Gabriel Agreste, Marinette hopes for an escape the constant ignorance, workload, and bullying she endures, and get a blissful life of her own.

With the help of one tiny god and a meow-velous partner, she might finally get a chance, but not everything is that simple.

They say ladybugs are lucky, so will being the elusive Ladybug bring Marinette the luck she oh-so-desperately needs?

quick links:

< previous chapter | first chapter | next chapter >

| miraculous masterlist | series masterlist |

a/n: so hi again, it’s me, n! im so so so sorry that i didn’t post for a long time, school caught up with me and everything’s getting v stressful these days. regardless, my new year’s resolution is to post more of these, and i’ll actively make an effort to do that hehe, in the meantime, enjoy!

also i’m appalled at the fact that this was 15 pages long and took more than a month to write how are you doing

Marinette had thought that the whole coffee spill, glass breaking fiasco would be relatively easy to clean.

She was wrong.

It takes her all of 10 minutes to clean up the glass, and another 20 minutes to try and clean up the coffee.

Key word: try.

Marinette ends up at school 30 minutes late, the coffee-stained carpet rolled off to the side at home, effectively ruined. She hasn’t even thought about the cracked glass table yet, which she hid by placing a tissue over top of it after Lila left.

Needless to say, all of this puts a little bit of a damper on her day.

As Marinette walks up the staircase of Francois Dupont, the school she goes to, she spots Alya Cesaire inside. Alya is Marinette’s closest friend, and despite having moved to Paris only a year ago, it feels like Marinette has known her for their entire lives.

“Girl, girl, girl…” Alya sighs as Marinette walks through the doors. It’s a free period, and students litter the area. Marinette spots Lila walking with one of her friends on the other side of the school, and luckily, Lila doesn’t see her.

There’s one good thing about school that Marinette adores: she doesn’t have to see Lila. Lila’s always had Madame Mendeleev for homeroom, and Marinette’s had Madame Bustier. Because of this, their schedules never interact, which allows Marinette to avoid Lila for the duration of the school day.

“I’m so sorry!” Marinette pleads, running up to Alya and shrugging her backpack off her shoulder. “There was a coffee spill, and glass broke, and-OH GOD I MISSED THE MATH TEST!!!”

“Marinette, chill,” Alya laughs. “The math test got rescheduled, but Ms.Bustier is pretty mad about you being late,”

Marinette sighs. “That’s a relief,”

“But you still missed a lot of news~,” Alya says, singing the last word.

Alya aspires to be a journalist, so on the occasions that Marinette wasn’t late, Alya would give her anything and everything interesting she’d dug up that week.

"I know, I know," Marinette sighs, fingers loosely picking at her shirt again. The seams stay intact, but Marinette's mind doesn't. The coffee spill and the glass breaking is constantly on her mind; she's not sure what to do.

"Nice shirt, girl," Alya smiles, breaking Marinette away from her thoughts. Alya's good at that, and she notices when Marinette lets her mind wander, something that happens a little too often for her tastes. "Did you make it?"

Marinette bursts into a grin. "Yes! I used that gorgeous thread that Sabine bought last week for my birthday, you know, the one I kept talking about, and it was absolutely amazing! I had to make this! What do you think? Do you like it?"

The shirt is simple; a white base with flowers of varying sizes lining the edge. Marinette pairs it with her old, pink jeans (the fabric for the flowers on her shirt came from some leftover ones she had when making the jeans) and a dark-gray blazer that Lila used to own.

"It's beautiful," Alya smiles, "But hey, I’m more excited for you-know-who’s reaction,"

Marinette rolls her eyes, hiding her face as an involuntary blush rises to her face. "Alya! You know I don't like him like that!,"

Alya grins. "Just teasing,"

“Well, anyways, tell me what I missed during lunch, I’m off to the classroom, before Ms. Bustier comes looking for me,” Marinette smiles, turning and running up the stairs.

“Good luck, girl!” Alya says, waving goodbye and pulling out her phone.

The day passes quickly, and lunch comes sooner than Marinette expects.

She meets Alya outside of Francois Dupont, and they both head to Ville de Soirée, a cafe which isn’t nearly as expensive as the others in the area. They both order their usuals, and sit in one of the booths as they wait for their drinks.

Marinette sighs and leans back. “Ok, ok, tell me,”

Alya, who is most probably on the verge of exploding from her excitement, gears up. “Ok, so you know Nino, right?”

“You mean the boy you’ve been obsessing over since we met him?” Marinette teases. “Oh hey, I might have an inkling,”

Alya blushes, her cheeks tinting rouge. “Shut up,”

Marinette giggles. “Ok, go on,”

“Anyway, Nino texted me yesterday that his parents finally agreed, and he’ll be starting school starting Monday next week!”

“Ah! That’s so exciting! I’m so happy for you!” Marinette laughs. “Now you can actually make a move!”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, I’ll let you play matchmaker when the time comes,” Alya laughs, “there’s also something else, and this one I know you’ll be even happier about,”

The barista interrupts Alya, placing two steaming drinks in front of them. They both reach for their drinks, with Marinette holding the cup in her hand and Alya taking a sip. She grins.

“Nino’s friend, you know, Adrien Agreste, is also coming too,”

She pulls back, looking smug as she tries to read Marinette’s face.

The girl in question sighs, shaking her head. “Who even is Adrien, and why does everyone keep mentioning him to me?”

Alya facepalms, groaning.

“Girl, sometimes I swear you live under a rock,” Alya sighs, shaking her head. “How do you not know who Adrien Agreste is? His ads are literally everywhere!”

Marinette pouts. “Well maybe I just haven’t seen him,”

Alya rolls her eyes and shakes her head. “Ohh no, there’s no way you’ve missed him ,”

She pulls up her phone and momentarily scrolls as Marinette waits.

“Here,” she says, “That’s him,”

The photo on Alya’s screen is from last February, Marinette recognizes. She remembers how Lila bought a copy of the magazine it came in, although she wasn’t allowed to see it.

But the boy is familiar. His face is similar to someone’s, but Marinette can’t pinpoint who it—

Oh.

He’s Gabriel Agreste’s son.

Marinette leans back.

“That’s Monsieur Agreste’s son! I should’ve known, how could I have missed it when Madame Rossi told us about him?”

Alya squints her eyes. “Wait what?”

“There’s a fashion show that Adrien’s dad is hosting, and the embassy’s holding a huge event to greet all the fashion officials that are coming. Madame Rossi got us all passes to go,” Marinette says.

“That’s the one my mom’s cooking for! It’s next weekend right? She would not stop talking about it all weekend. I can try and score a pass, to you know, keep you company?”

Marinette gasps suddenly, burying her face in her hands, “Ah! I forgot! I won’t be able to go, since Li— I mean I, spilled coffee all over our new carpet,”

Alya raises an eyebrow.

“Fine, fine, I cracked some glass too,” Marinette sighs, face growing redder. “Madame Rossi’s gonna ground me for sure!”

Alya shakes her head. “Somehow I can believe it. You are the clumsiest person I know,”

She nods thoughtfully, fingers closing around the fox necklace on her neck. “Well I can’t deal with the whole glass situation, but maybe I can help with the coffee stuff? Happens to my mom all the time,”

Marinette perks up. “Really? Would you? Oh thank you Alya!”

Alya laughs. “No problem girl, I’ll come by after your shift at the bakery,”

Marinette pauses. After work would be...when Lila comes home.

Alya has always been a fan of Lila, but despite knowing Marinette, she’s only admired Marinette’s less-than-wonderful sister from afar. This means that so far, Marinette has managed to keep Alya and Lila separate.

Does she really want to risk that?

Weighing in the situation, she sighs. Would she rather have a shot at attending a potentially life-changing event, or safely escape Alya meeting Lila?

Knowing the both of them, Marinette remembers, they’d be a deadly combo.

But Marinette really wants to go to the event so, maybe this time, she might just give in.

“Great!” Marinette says, happiness laced with fear. “That’s...great!

Alya nods, smiling, watching as Marinette giggles.

“Now about setting you up with Nino…”

Alya turns away, blushing, “Marinette!”

Today

Lie-la 😒: sup loser

Lie-la 😒: im going to the mall with my friends after school

Lie-la 😒: if my mom comes in early

Lie-la 😒: you know what to say

Lie-la 😒: type, maribrat. use those lousy fingers.

You: yea, sure lila.

Lie-la 😒: good.

Marinette sighs and pockets her phone. For today, she is safe.

And that’s all she has ever wanted.

Marinette’s day ends with her feeling happier than when it began. Alya’s coming over to wash out the coffee stain, Lila won’t be there when she gets home, and she’s heading to her shift at the bakery!

It’s normal for work to not be exciting to most people, but for Marinette, it always is. Heading to the Dupain-Cheng bakery is always the highlight of her day, and working there is even better. The owners, Sabine and Tom, are like the parents she never had, what with them spoiling her with all the food they give and teaching her how to bake. Customers even tell Marinette all the time that she looks strikingly similar to Sabine, but she doesn’t see it.

In truth, she’s only ever even thought about becoming a designer because of the Dupain-Chengs, and if it weren’t for their motivation, she’s sure that she would be in a much different place right now.

But that’s not what Marinette worries about right now. Despite school ending early and the bakery being right across the street from where she is, she still manages to be late.

She exchanges a quick goodbye with Alya, who chuckles at her frazzled state, and dashes off towards work.

“I’m here!” she shouts, running into the bakery, the familiar jingle of the store’s door’s bell ringing in her ears. “Sorry!

Sabine laughs as she hands a box of pastries to a customer, waving as they leave. “Just on time. Hello Marinette,”

Marinette winces as Sabine holds out her apron. “Sorry again, Sabine!”

Tom laughs from the kitchen behind the store, the sound booming through the bakery. “Marinette!”

“Tom!” Marinette says back, her lips curving into a smile.

Sabine eyes Marinette as she ties the apron behind her, quickly joining the older woman behind the counter.

“So?” she asks. “What’s new with you?”

Marinette sighs. “Not much, not much...oh! Madame Rossi has an embassy gathering to welcome a couple of famous people into France. And not just any people, people who work in the fashion industry!”

Sabine nods, smiling at Marinette’s delight. “And why exactly are these people coming?”

“It’s for the Gabriel event. I don’t know when it is, but apparently Gabriel Agreste is holding a huge gala, something about searching for a fashion assistant?,”

Sabine perks up at fashion assistant. “Marinette, you should enter!”

Marinette gasps. “I couldn’t! There’s no way! I mean, my designs are barely adequate, let alone Agreste worthy!”

Sabine shakes her head. “Everyone knows that isn’t true. Don’t put yourself down like that!”

Marinette blushes. “Thanks Sabine,”

The woman smiles. “Well, anyways, are you allowed to go to the embassy event? It’s a great opportunity, you wouldn’t want to miss it,”

“I mean, Madame Rossi did invite me and Lila, but Lila spilled a bunch of coffee on the carpet, and cracked the dining table this morning. It’s all a stunt, she did it on purpose. She’s blaming it on me, which means I’ll get grounded, and I won’t be able to go, and you know there’s nothing I can do about that,”

Sabine sighs, placing a hand on Marinette’s shoulder. “Oh dear. The next time I see Lila, I’ll tell Tom to get that girl and her mother arrested!”

Marinette laughs. “As much as I’d like that, where would I live?”

The rumble of the oven from behind the store dies down, and Tom walks into the main room. The room seems friendlier all at once, his large personality filling the space.

“Here, with us,” he declares proudly. “You’re like a daughter already,”

Marinette giggles, her cheeks growing red. “Alright guys, we’ll see,”

Sabine and Tom laugh as Marinette runs away to help a customer. Their afternoons with Marinette pass by quickly, and while they wish it was longer, you know what they say: time flies when you're having fun.

By the time Marinette gets off her shift, it’s 5:30 in the evening. Paris’s sky starts to fade from its normal cotton-candy blue to a marmalade orange. The hustle and bustle of the busy streets start to die down, and once she texts her address to Alya, Marinette makes her way to the bus stop.

While her time in the bakery is her favorite time of day, her time on the bus doesn’t prove to be too bad either. She likes the quiet silence, and enjoys her time away from the world around her.

The bus is probably her favorite mode of transportation (but her only one as well). When she volunteered to work at the bakery after school, Madame Rossi decided that ‘the streets were too dark at night for Marinette to walk alone’, and she was given a bus pass.

It was a small and random act of kindness that Marinette wouldn’t ever get again. It was also the only gift she ever got from her adopted mother, and despite not being too fond of Madame Rossi, she did treasure the gift.

Madame Rossi paid for her bus rides until Marinette was actually hired at the bakery. It was then that she decided to have Marinette pay her own bills, an action that most certainly helped Marinette for the future.

The sound of tires skidding against the pathway jolts Marinette out of her thoughts. She turns to see her normal bus waiting in front of her, and grabbing her bus pas, waits in line behind a couple others to get on.

That is, until she sees what’s about to happen.

Marinette watches as a man across the street tries to cross. He’s old, as his grayed hair and aged face tells, but his most identifiable quality is the red Hawaiian shirt he wears, embossed with a white hibiscus floral pattern.

Besides that, there’s also a car coming straight for him, and though it’s a little while away, there’s no doubt that he’ll get hit.

Marinette does the only thing she can think of. She runs.

The street is narrow, and Marinette manages to pull the man across the pathway before the car comes. She huffs, turning to the man to smile.

He has an odd look in his eyes, lips curved into a mysterious smile as Marinette quirks her eyebrow.

“Thank you, young lady,” he nods.

“You’re welcome!” she smiles, turning to look at the bus, which has started leaving. “Goodbye and stay safe, sir!”

The old man watches as Marinette just manages to catch the bus, stopping it and shouldering her backpack as she climbs on.

Marinette seats herself as the bus starts once more, and turns to her window to look for the old man.

But by the time she does, he’s gone.

Alya gets to Marinette's house at just the right time. When she reaches, Marinette has done a couple of her chores, cleaned up the living room, and put out the carpet in the first floor bathroom. Against the white rug, the coffee stain is obvious, and Marinette sighs as she inspects it.

How were they ever going to get it out?

There’s a knock at the front door, and Marinette knows it’s Alya. Smiling, the girl heads to the living room to open it.

Alya gasps as she sees the house. From the marble kitchen to the hickory-brown wood flooring, everything is pristine and clean, as if the Rossis live in a mansion.

(They don’t, but the house is still fairly big. Marinette sometimes has to clean it all as part of her chores, but luckily that hasn’t happened in a while.)

“Dang girl,” Alya sighs, “you rich or what?”

Marinette nervously laughs, cracking her knuckles. “Uh, I don’t know,”

“I’m joking,” Alya smiles. “But, random thing, where’s Lila?”

“She’s out. Doctor’s appointment for her, um, wrist,”

“Aw, that’s too bad. Tell her I said get better soon!”

Marinette sighs. She doesn’t like lying, but it’s far better than what would happen if she told the truth.

“Yea. Anyway, how are you getting the stain out? I tried all morning, but it was stuck,”

“Just watch me, girl,” Alya smirks. “Before we start though, you already blotted the stain,right?”

Marinette furrows her eyebrows. “Blotted? What do you mean?”

Alya demonstrates with her hands. “Like, did you take a paper towel and try to get as much of the stain out as you could?”

Marinette nods. “Yeah, that’s why I was late this morning,”

Alya nods. “Ok, so now we just have to make the cleaner,”

Marinette raises an eyebrow. “Make? This is getting a little crazy,”

“It’s really not,” Alya laughs, “I’ve done this a thousand times before. My sisters knock over my dad’s coffee way too much,”

Marinette laughs. “Alright then, show me what to do,”

Alya makes her way to the kitchen, filing through multiple cabinets. “Where’s your dish soap?”

“Bottom-left drawer next to the sink,” Marinette points.

“And your white vinegar?”

“Fridge. Anything else you need?”

“Just water,” Alya replies. “Warm, that is. And two cups of it,”

Marinette nods. “Got it,”

Alya takes out a steel bowl from one of the cabinets. “And can I use this?”

Marinette nods again. “Go ahead,”

“Great,” Alya says, pouring a spoon of dish soap followed by a spoon of vinegar. She waits for Marinette to get the water before adding that in as well, and then mixing. “That should do,”

“Work your magic then,” Marinette laughs.

“Just watch and see girl, I totally will,”

Alya finds a cleaning rag from a drawer in the island, and she runs over to the carpet. “Grab yourself a rag, Marinette, and let’s get started!”

Marinette laughs, and runs over to help. The time passes quickly, and by the time the coffee stain is gone and the carpet is dry, two hours have gone by. Their hands are sore and their legs are tired, but both can say that they had fun.

In the midst of it, Marinette almost doesn’t notice when Lila texts her.

Today

— 2 New Messages —

Lie-La 😒: open the back door

Lie-la 😒: im right by my house

Almost.

“Alya!” Marinette gasps, both sitting on the couch after the carpet was rolled back underneath the dining table. “It’s so late, don’t you have to go at 7?”

Alya tilts her head, confused. “No?”

“Oh well then I must have said it,” Marinette laughs nervously. “Yes that’s right! I’ve got work, haha. Bye!”

Marinette practically pushes Alya to the front door, while Alya looks lost and puzzled.

“Didn’t you already have work?” Alya asks.

“Yep, but gotta save up for uni right? Haha. Haha,”

Alya nods, squinting her eyes as she walks out the door.

“Um, bye? See you at school, girl,” Alya nods, quietly laughing.

“Bye!” Marinette smiles. Once Alya is farther away and out of sight, Marinette runs to open the back door. She can faintly hear the sounds of Lila’s friend’s car pulling into the driveway, so she dashes back upstairs as fast as she can. The last thing she wants to do is talk to Lila, much less be alone in a room with her.

She hopes that Lila won’t try anything while she’s in her room.

Sighing, she smiles when she stops at the attic door, and heads inside.

Before Madame Rossi found her and decided to take her in (how she came to that conclusion, Marinette would never know), the attic was all set to be Lila’s playroom. The entire room was painted pink from head to toe (even the carpet was a light shade of pink). There was a wooden wardrobe for all of Lila’s toys, and a desk with markers, painting supplies, and coloring pencils galore.

But then Marinette came along.

For one reason or another, she was given the attic as her own room. Out went the ideas of toys and tents in the room, and in came Marinette.

Madame Rossi didn’t give her anything. From the age of 2 till the age of 4, she slept on the ground, the lack of a bed present to her each night.

Until Lila outgrew her bed of course, which was then given to Marinette.

It was simple. Since Marinette was smaller than Lila, and slower at growing, she was often given Lila’s old things. All the clothes that Lila didn’t want, Marinette had. From her bed to the old beanbag in her room (one of the only things Lila gave her as decoration) everything was a hand me down from Lila herself.

Marinette sighs, and then flops into the bed. She’s lucky that Lila doesn’t bother if Marinette doesn’t get on her nerves.

Hopefully, until she can get out of this place, she’ll manage without angering Lila too much.

Standing up, Marinette locks herself in the attic, a faint click of the door behind her, and gets out her phone. Opening up Spotify, she starts her playlist, and goes over to the desk.

For the next hour, she does homework and finishes a project, all while sketching out designs for new dresses.

And hey, if she’s lucky, she might just be able to make one for the gala.

Marinette shuffles through her desk drawers, pop music playing through her earbuds. It’s nearly 8 PM and she’s searching for the special gold thread she had bought a couple weeks ago. It cost nearly a month's pay, and she’s been saving it for a special occasion.

With the dress she was sketching, she wanted to know if it was now.

She’s still searching through the drawers on the left side of the desk when she finds a box.

One that she feels might not have been there before.

(Then again, she rarely looks through all her drawers, so there’s always a chance that it could’ve been.)

Marinette feels confused. The box is made of a dark brown wood, and shaped like an octagon. The top of the box is embossed with a red design. Glimmering red circles meet wavy, thin lines, but Marinette is preoccupied with figuring out what the box is for.

In the end, she decides to open it. There can’t be much inside, can there?

Turns out, Marinette is wrong.

The moment she opens it is a frightful one. In that second, there’s a bright flash of light. It swirls around her as Marinette gasps, dropping the box onto the carpet as two solid-black earrings fall out.

That’s not the amazing part of it all though. After a second, Marinette comes face to face with a spotted red creature.

Needless to say, she screams.

“Hi Marinette!” the spotted creature says. “My name is Tikki! It’s nice to meet you!”

“Mouse!” Marinette hollers, “Bug! Bug-mouse! Talking bug mouse!”

Marinette scooches back, her hand grabbing books and papers off her desk as she throws them at Tikki.

“I’m here to help!” Tikki says, dodging the objects. “I’m here to help you!”

“Liar!” Marinette calls, searching for more things to throw. “This must be Lila’s version of a joke ! I can’t believe her!”

She takes her water-bottle from her backpack, and quickly moves to trap Tikki in it.

“It’s ok Marinette, I won’t hurt you,” Tikki smiles. “But if this makes you feel better, then this is ok!”

There’s a pause, and then Marinette sighs and chooses not to answer, leaning back, and quickly grabbing her school tablet off her desk. She points it at Tikki, trying her best to look intimidating.

“Who are you?” Marinette asks, “and what do you want?”

“Like I said, my name’s Tikki! I’m a kwami!” the tiny bug says, (still trapped in the bottle but floating in midair, Marinette notes) “And I want to help you!”

Marinette sighs, lowering her weapon tablet. “Did Lila send you somehow?”

Tikki furrows her forehead in place of her eyebrows. “No? Who’s Lila?”

Marinette bitterly chuckles, standing and throwing her arms into the air. “This. This. This is why you can’t help me. No one can. Anyone who meets Lila thinks she’s an ‘absolute angel’, and no one else knows her. How is someone supposed to help me if no one knows that my problem exists?!”

“Marinette,” Tikki sighs, “I promise you, I can help, if you’ll listen to me. Please let me explain, and then you can decide if you want to trust me or not, ok?”

Marinette pauses, considering the situation, and sits a fair distance away from Tikki, keeping her tablet in her hands.

“Ok,” she responds, facing the little bug. “But you have 5 minutes,”

Tikki smiles again. "And that's all I need,"

quick links: < previous chapter | first chapter | next chapter >

a/n: i resolve to post the next chapter soon lmaoo, thanks for reading! have an absolutely amazing day, you deserve it!

taglist:

i’ll be tagging the people that i had tagged before, along with a couple others who liked the previous chapter for this series. if you don’t want to get tagged, i’m very sorry! just shoot me a private message, and i’ll take you off the tags. if you do want to get tagged, just tell me with a private message or an ask and i’ll add you to the taglist. thank you!

@reddragonofemeraldflame @nomiegnome @18markers @katbab @emmathedestroyer @bluesesameseed @cyborgcandy @karukofox21 @aestheticnpoetic c @magnificentcrapposts @miraculouslylee @lonestarfangirl2014 @lambdaarietis @miraculous-twilight @miraculous-twilight @silver-twilight @emmarosemary11 @whiterosequeen23 @whatschooldoesntteachyou @shaykaleen @itswelphereiamuniverse @seraphichana @ladynoirotphell @tinynuggetofterror @tinkabella256 @coopermaggie

#ml #mlb #fanfic #marinette-dupain cheng #miraculous ladybug #miraculous #adrien agreste #adrienette #adrinette #nino lahiffe #alya cesaire #lila rossi #lila rossi bashing #lila #lila exposed #lila rossi tag #marinette tag #crimson and bluebell

54 notes · View notes

queenmylovely · 4 years

Text

Joyeux Noël

Summary: Gwilym lee x fem!reader. Will this perfect Parisian vacation with Gwil ever come to an end?

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: fluff, angst, cussing, Rick Steves and Marie Antoinette are mentioned

A/N: This is my gift for @local-troubled-writer for @dtfrogertaylor Thank God It’s Christmas event 🎄 I’m so anxious/excited for you to read this, and I hope you enjoy it! This is my first time writing for Gwil, and although there’s not a ton of dialogue and stuff, I hope his loving nature really came through in the story! I hope you all like it, and any feedback including likes, replies, reblogs and asks are greatly appreciated! Especially replies, messages, and asks are super helpful for my writing ‘cause I get to hear what you think! Remember to check out all the awesome stuff everyone’s creating for tgic!!

Masterlist

(from left: Champs-Élysées, Palace of Versailles, Eiffel Tower, Gwil, Parisian Christmas market possibly at Notre Dame, Arc de Triomphe, & gardens at the Palace of Versailles)

🌲🌲🌲

Going to Paris during the Christmas season had been a dream of yours for a while. It was always shown as so pretty during the holidays in movies and on TV, and there was no lack of influencers and celebrities in your Instagram feed posting amazing pictures of themselves there over the years. So, when Gwilym told you that he had the entire month of December free and that he wanted to take you somewhere before going to spend Christmas with your family, you immediately suggested Paris. Luckily, Gwilym thought it was a great idea and agreed right away. The two of you booked for the 15th through the 21st, making sure to pack well for the weather, but leave enough room in your suitcases for any souvenirs or gifts you would bring back.

The lead-up to the trip was filled with excitement, and the night before the flight, you could hardly sleep. As Gwilym tried to fall asleep, you kept waking him up for different little things that you should pack or that you were excited for in Paris. Every time he would remind you that “you have indeed already packed that,” or that “yes it is all very exciting,” but quickly tried going back to sleep. Finally, you settled down and fell asleep after he held you in his arms tight enough so that you couldn’t get up and check on your suitcase and had no choice but to fall asleep with him.

The flight was of course early and very long, but neither you nor Gwil were able to fall asleep on the plane. You hoped that you wouldn’t end up being too jet-lagged when you first got to Paris. After a layover or two, the plane landed in Paris at 8:00pm local time. The two of you got a cab to the airbnb you were staying at and immediately crashed in the bed. Which meant that you woke up promptly at 5:00am, much earlier than either of you would’ve, but it did mean you got to go have fresh, warm bread at an actual French bakery, an experience totally worth the lack of sleep.

While you had researched and suggested a bunch of places you wanted to go to while in Paris, Gwil, ever the planner, had been the one to make it into an itinerary. So, you were on a strict schedule each day. The first day was exploratory since you were staying in the 8th arr., about a block away from the Champs-Élysées. You walked up and down the famous avenue, stopping in chic boutiques, visiting the Champs-Élysées Garden, stopping in cafés when you got hungry or wanted a hot drink, and finishing the day out at the Arc de Triomphe. The entire lane leading up to it had been strung with lights that gave it the perfect atmosphere for the holiday season and made for some great photo opportunities too.

_____

The next three days were spent going to different Christmas markets, including Le Village de Noël at Les Halles, Abbesses Christmas Market at Montmartre, and the Villages de Noël at Champs de Mars and La Défense. All of them were similar, but each one had something unique that you hadn’t seen at any of the previous ones, and every one had its own special atmosphere that couldn’t be replicated.

Your fifth day there was spent almost entirely at the Louvre. Normally, an entire day at an art museum might’ve become a little boring, but Gwilym seemed to know a little something about every exhibit and display you went to and managed to keep things interesting the entire time. It wasn’t until more than halfway through the museum that he let it slip that he had listened to all of Rick Steves’, of Rick Steves’ Europe fame, audios about the museum on the plane ride over. It was still pretty impressive that he had managed to retain all of that information and deliver it interestingly, but he said that as an actor it had been a breeze.

For your last stop before going back to the apartment, you went to the Eiffel Tower, feeling the magic of Paris and the holiday season wash over you.

The sixth day started with a fantastic brunch at a nice restaurant and then you went shopping, trying to find the more hidden locally-owned shops off the beaten path. You went back to the airbnb with many bags, successful in finding gifts for everyone on your list. Then, you got all dressed up because you had booked tickets to see a production of The Nutcracker Ballet. You had dinner at a fancy restaurant and then went to the performance. The dancers were amazing, as were the lights, music, and sets that made the whole thing a magical experience and the perfect cap to your week in Paris.

The two of you went to bed early on that last day, ready to get up in time to pack up, have a quick breakfast, and make it to the airport with plenty of time before your flight. It had been an amazing week, but you were excited to go back home to see your family. That is, until you woke up the next morning to a message from your airline stating that all flights out of Paris were canceled due to an inversion that covered the entire city and trapped the fog in the air so there was zero visibility for pilots during take off and landing. There was no word on when the airports would be open again because it all depended on the weather.

“Oh my gosh, Gwil, what are we going to do?” you asked him after reading the message to him off your phone.

“I don’t know, darling. Maybe it will just be closed one day and we can fly out tomorrow,” Gwilym replied hopefully. “I’ll reach out to the airbnb host and ask if we can extend our accommodations. You should call your family and let them know what’s going on.”

Gwil walked to the other room so that you could make your call without interference. You called your mom and let her know the situation, and that you would keep her apprised of any updates. She told you to make the most of your extra day in Paris and not to worry too much about the flights. You would get home eventually, and no one was going to hold the weather against you. After thanking her and telling her to tell the family that you love them, you hung up, and went to join Gwilym in the other room.

“What’d your mum say?” he asked as you walked in.

You joined him on the couch and leaned your head on his shoulder, “She just said that they understand and it’s not my fault. She told me not to worry too much and just try to enjoy another day in Paris.”

“She’s a smart one, your mother,” Gwil commented and you nodded.

“What about our host?” you asked.

“Well there’s good news and there’s bad news. The bad news is that they already have people booked for later today. But the good news is that they have another place in the area, and they’re going to give us a discount, you know, in the holiday spirit,” he told you, rubbing his hand up and down your arm soothingly.

“That is mostly good news. Well, should we get up and pack our stuff? Isn’t check out in an hour?” you suggested, moving to stand up.

Before you could stand fully, Gwil pulled you back down, hugging you closer to him, “Just five more minutes of relaxing on the couch, and then we’ll get up, yeah?”

“Fine, but just five minutes,” you acquiesced, settling back into him.

True to your word, after the five minutes were up, you made Gwil get up with you and pack up all of your things. Luckily, it only took about half an hour, giving you plenty of time to do some last minute tidying up of the place. The two of you left and immediately went to the new airbnb, not wanting to have to carry your luggage around the city.

As soon as you got in the door, you noticed that this apartment had been decorated all-out for Christmas. The last one hadn’t been, for unknown reasons, but it felt good to at least be in a decorated apartment so close to Christmas. It had lights everywhere, little Santa figurines, garland, and even a medium-sized fake tree that was decked out with more lights and ornaments.

Once you set down your things in the bedroom though, you got another notification on your phone from the airport.

“Shit!” you cursed after reading it.

“What’s wrong?” Gwil called from the other room, jogging lightly to see what was up.

“The airport is officially closed for the next two days, and there are warnings past that. We’re stuck here for sure until at least the night of the 23rd,” you explained, feeling your voice getting shaky with worry and stress.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Gwil said, pulling you into a comforting hug. “I’m sure it’ll all work out.”

“I just-- just really want to spend Christmas with my family and you all together. It’s not going to be the same without all of them. No offense,” you added quickly, not wanting to make him feel unappreciated.

“None taken, love,” he said with a laugh. “I know you’re very close with your family. I’m looking forward to spending the holiday with them too.”

Gwil just held and comforted you for a bit and then he spoke up, “I’ve just had an idea. You know how we wanted to go to the Palace of Versailles but it didn’t fit in the schedule? Since we know we’ll be here all day, why don’t we take the train out there tomorrow?”

“That sounds perfect. You always know how to cheer me up,” you responded, pulling back from the hug and going on your tip-toes to give him a sweet kiss.

“It is my most solemn duty,” he said with a mock serious face before breaking into a grin and laughing. You joined his laughter, feeling much happier and more relieved than when the day started.

The rest of the day was spent doing a quick grocery shop to get supplies for the next two days and then on a walk to get acquainted with the different neighborhood you were staying in. It was called Ternes and was just outside of the Champs-Élysées, and as such was a bit more residential and less busy. There were still lots of cafés, shops, and people around though.

The next morning, you took an early train to the Palace of Versailles. The grounds themselves were gorgeous covered in snow. Not to mention the actual palace. Growing up, you had read a princess book about Marie Antoinette, and it was wild to see where she had actually lived. Each of the rooms was so decadently ornamented with the finest fabrics, furniture, and paintings. It was like stepping into a painting or history book, it was almost a surreal experience to see it all. This time, it was you explaining things about Marie Antoinette’s life to Gwilym, with his rapt attention.

The train ride back was sleepy and relaxed. The two of you had an early night, falling asleep cuddled up under the blankets.

The next morning, the morning of the 23rd, there was yet another update from the airport: no flights until Christmas day. The news left you a bit of a wreck, and you spent a tearful hour being comforted by Gwil. You facetimed your family to tell them once you had collected yourself and they offered love and promises that the holidays weren’t completely ruined and that you would all see each other soon.

After the call, Gwil suggested that you take a nice, hot, long bath in the tub that the apartment had in its ensuite. As luck would have it, your wonderful hosts had provided a couple different bath salts, bubble bath, and even a bath bomb for free use. Gwilym ran the bath for you and told you to get in and relax while he went to pick up all the food the two of you would need for the next two and a half days. He wanted to stock up a bit since most places would close early on Christmas Eve and not be open at all on Christmas.

You got in the bath and let the hot but not too hot water and pleasing scents wash the stress right out of your body. It was like a big detox of all of the negative feelings that had been pervading your mind. By the time Gwilym was back, you were practically falling asleep in the bath, but his yell of “Honey, I’m home!” pulled you from your doze. You got out of the tub and dried off, pulling on a silk robe you packed with you, and by the time you made it into the kitchen, Gwil had already unpacked and put away all of the groceries.

“I could’ve helped you with those, you know. We have an equitable relationship,” you said with a smile, greeting him with a kiss.

“I know, but I thought the sooner those got put away, the sooner we could move onto… other things,” he said with a sly smile, holding you close to him in his arms.

“Yeah? What other things?” you asked coyly.

“Mmm, well I guess I’ll just have to show you,” he responded, slowly undoing the tie to your robe.

“I guess you will,” you said, letting your robe fall open and then grabbing his hand and leading him into the bedroom, giggling along with him.

_____

Waking up on Christmas Eve tangled up with Gwil in a comfy bed wasn’t a bad way to wake up. The day’s itinerary was mainly to drink hot chocolate and watch Christmas movies on Netflix, some of which you watched in French with English subtitles since there weren’t enough English ones to get through the whole day. There were food breaks every now and then, but most of the day included some snacking. For dinner, the two of you did your best to recreate the fondue you had had at that fancy restaurant. It didn’t quite melt smoothly, but it was still tasty enough to eat enough to feel a little sick.

With all of the yummy food and warmth and cosiness that you two had conjured up over the course of the day, you ended up falling into a food coma around 9:00pm and passed out for the rest of the night.

The Christmas morning wake-up was something different. You woke slowly, first with your nose, as weird as that seems. In your dream, you could smell your brother’s cinnamon rolls baking, but as you woke up, you realized that couldn’t be true. But the smell was still there. You were in Gwil’s warm embrace, but you could actually smell the cinnamon rolls. Your eyes opened slowly to see Gwilym looking down at you with a soft smile.

“Morning, darling,” he said, kissing your forehead lightly.

“Morning,” you said quietly, your voice still not quite awake. “Is that-- what am I smelling?”

Gwil chuckled in response and then answered, “I may have gotten the recipe for cinnamon rolls from your brother. They’re in the oven now.”

“What? How? When?” you asked confusedly.

He laughed for real this time, “Well, when you took your bath, I called your brother back and got the recipe from him. It took some convincing, but he agreed that it would make you happy so he finally sent it to me. Then I bought everything while you were in the bath and put it all away before you could see it. I was planning on staying up late to make them last night, but since you fell asleep at 9:00, I was able to be in bed by 10:30, so thanks for that. Then I got up about half an hour ago and put them in the oven. Does that answer all of your questions?”

“I guess it does. All except for one,” you replied.

“Oh, what’s that?” Gwil asked genuinely surprised.

“How did I get so lucky to be with a guy as amazing as you?” you said with a grin before capturing his lips with yours.

Once he pulled back from the kiss, he said, “Alright, shall we go check on those cinnamon rolls?”

The morning was wonderfully lazy, filled with eating the warm cinnamon rolls, warm cups of tea, and a little gift exchange. Both of you had picked up little things for each other in the Christmas markets. You had gotten Gwil a leather bound notebook with a French filigree designed burned onto it. He had gotten you a delicate necklace with a fleur-de-lis pendant, France’s crown’s symbol.

Right after you finished giving each other your gifts, you got one last update from the airport. This time, it actually made you smile because it said that you were booked for a flight in three hours. The two of you packed up quickly and headed to the airport. The atmosphere in the airport was one of relief since everyone was going to reach their destinations soon. Everyone was much kinder than usual and luggage check then security was a breeze compared to normal. In no time, you were seated together on the plane.

Gwil took your hand in his and said to you excitedly, “Just think, in less than 24 hours, we’ll be celebrating the holidays with your family!”

You grinned along with him. You couldn’t wait.

🌲🌲🌲

Permanent Taglist: @drowseoftaylor @caborhapch @riseetothesun

If you would like to be added to a taglist, just send me a message or ask!

31 notes · View notes

marinette-sky · 7 years

Text

Cigarettes and Leather Chapter 7

A/N: A lot goes on in this chapter, both good and bad. This is my longest chapter yet, finishing at a whopping 5,832 words! I am NEVER doing that again. Detail is, like, my private prostitute at this point and i wish it weren't ;-; I am a filthy liar btw, I said this chapter would center on an Adrienette trip to the bar and shit, but that sure as hell ain't the truth.Also, I know I said this would be a slow-ish burn, but....well you have to read the chapter ;)

Summary: Marinette, and other things, are falling apart at the seams (and oh, how she wish they were as easy to stitch back together as clothing).

Wednesday Morning

Marinette woke up before her alarm in spite of the exhaustion dragging at her eyelids. The sleep she had gotten could be described as fitful at best, events from the previous evening to blame for her poor condition. After getting home, the heroine had all but collapsed in a sniveling, self-pitying heap on her bedcovers, replaying what transpired between Chat Noir and her until she was no longer conscious enough to dwell on the persisting anguish.

Though, it is certainly still with me. She pressed a hand to her chest, dully noting the ache that pushed back.

Heaving a big sigh, Marinette sat up and blinked a few times for her eyes to adjust to the dim light filtering through her skylight. The skin around her eyes was slightly puffy from crying, but nothing a few dabs of concealer couldn’t fix. Hopefully.

Alya has eyes like a hawk, so maybe I’ll do full face makeup today.

With this in mind, the female crawled down from the bed, (snagging the neatly ironed uniform from its hanger hooked on the bedpost), and made her way to the bathroom to get ready for the day. When she had showered and dressed, true to her word to applying full face makeup, she snuck back to her room to find Tikki waiting by her school bag.

The kwami looked at her with apprehension.

“Marinette, we need to talk about last night.” Tikki said firmly, crossing her arm-like appendages. Because of her small stature, she made for almost a laughable sight if not for the serious nature of her words.

“There’s nothing to discuss, Tikki. I was just stressed and Chat made it worse by mentioning working with someone else as a civilian. That’s all.” Marinette ducked around the little creature to grab her bag, purposefully avoiding eye contact as she spoke. She recalled Tikki once telling her that eyes betray the truth, so she should always look at someone head on when talking to see if they are lying or not.

“No, that’s not all, Mari. You cried. I know it has something to do with the fight between you and Chat Noir.” Tikki insisted, moving to block access to the trapdoor handle. “I feel everything you feel when transformed, and it wasn’t just stress.”

She’s not budging on this, is she?

“Well, my feelings are dumb and so are you if you believed them.” Marinette retorted weakly, glaring at her character shoes. “I need to leave for school.”

“Now you are just being childish. And you are not leaving this room until we talk about last night.” Tikki was resolute. “We both know that you have feelings for Chat Noir, and I know first-hand how you get when his female fans get too snug with him.”

“I—”

“You may think you protect him inside the mask, by keeping him by your side only, but outside the mask is different. You both make your own decisions, and he seems to have made his. Tell me I’m wrong.”

Marinette tried her hardest to not recoil at Tikki’s accurate observation, however vague it was. Although it stung, she was right. Chat Noir was never hers to begin with and no amount of jealousy or tantrums could change that.

What I did last night was selfish.

I was selfish.

He was only trying to help them both and the situation at hand by taking action in his civilian form and teaming up with someone else to investigate what happened to Kim and Ivan.

And Marinette scolded him for it.

But…

“You’re not, Tikki.” Marinette admitted. “But that’s not the whole picture either.”

Tikki’s gaze softened when she saw the raw look on the female’s face. “Then what is, Marinette.”

Marinette played with the hem of her shirt, hesitant at voicing her real concerns to the kwami. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she met Tikki’s stare with a heartsick one of her own.

“Its just…well, I’m hurt that someone else caught his eye, and not me. We’ve known each other so long that I figured we’d eventually end up together, and I defended this notion by making sure no one else could get close to him in the mask. So when Chat Noir told me he found this girl, and talked so fondly of her, it made me angry.” Marinette bit her lip, the fire in her stomach spreading to her lungs.

She waited for the suffocating feeling to subside before continuing.

“And then he even told me she reminded him of me. How am I supposed to interpret that? It was like getting told that I wasn’t good enough for him, but the girl who reminded him of me was. Like giving someone a gift only for them to return it in exchange for something similar to the original.”

Tikki nodded sympathetically, smiling sadly at her.

“I think he meant that he found someone with a good heart like yours. It was a compliment, sweetheart.”

Marinette silently agreed with Tikki’s insight, suddenly abhorred by her actions from last night. A despicable sensation crashed over her, like she had just been covered in acid and it was eating through her skin, her muscle, only to congeal itself around her bones and harden so she couldn’t tear it off. It felt worse than guilt, but lighter than heartbreak. There was no word that could possibly label the sensation and Marinette just had to live with it for now until it faded.

Tikki was alarmed.

“Marinette, what is it?!” She trilled, flying up to her face and cradling one of her cheeks.

“…I can’t believe I was so horrible to him. I’m a horrible friend. Tikki, I’m a horrible friend.” Tear pinpricked at her eyes, but Marinette refused to cry. She could cry and cry and cry and cry about how lowly she is; but, as the philosopher Heraclitus once said, the sun is new each day, but sadness will stay the same and she will not cry over the same sadness she felt yesterday as she does now.

I don’t deserve to.

“Marinette, just because you did something bad doesn’t make you a bad person.” Tikki attempted to comfort her, “You are not horrible.”

Yes I am, she wanted to explain, I’m a horrible friend because I was horrible to him and I realize this. But, just because he likes someone else, my feelings for him will not just disappear, and thus the jealousy I harbor will not either. I can’t tell him about my feelings for him because it would further complicate the situation, and we already have something much bigger and more important to worry about.

As wise as Tikki is, she would never understand what Marinette truly meant by her words.

Putting on a strong face, Marinette lifted her trapdoor open and went downstairs; past the kitchen where her mother was cooking breakfast, past the bakery where her father was taking care of early bird orders. It was only halfway to the school when the heroine realized something.

Chat Noir is shy, but his shyness did not make him a coward.

Ladybug is brave, even to the point of reckless abandon, but what she did made her a coward.

Thursday Afternoon – Lunch Break

“Girl, I know I’ve asked you this a hundred times since yesterday, but are you okay?” Alya asked around a mouthful of Bruschetta de Flageolets, balsamic vinegar dribbling down the corner of her mouth. “You barely touched the salad Niçoise my mom made for you.”

Marinette, who had been distractedly watching Adrien chat with Nino and Lila across the courtyard, snapped her attention back to her worried friend. They were seated on one of the newly installed benches that happened to be beneath a tree in the school courtyard, having thought it was an appropriate setting to dine on the meals that Alya’s mother had so kindly delivered to them out of the blue.

(Though the ravenette knew it was because Alya had begged her to make Marinette’s favorite lunch to try to cheer her up).

Marinette picked up her napkin and reached to clean the vinegar from Alya’s chin, causing her friend to giggle.

“I’m fine, Alya. I just have a lot on my mind right now.” She resigned herself to watching Adrien again, smiling emptily to herself when she saw he had lit a cigarette and was now shamelessly smoking in front of their lunch monitor, Ms. Mendeleiev.

The professor looked furious, but knew better to hold her tongue with Adrien.

Alya followed her stare and laughed easily.

“Is that why you keep watching Adrien? I thought you were saving yourself for Chat Noir.” Alya nonchalantly stuck a fork in Marinette’s salad, hiding her smirk behind the piece of lettuce.

Marinette blanched and blushed hard at her friend’s implication. Only Alya knew of her adoration for Chat Noir and absolutely loved teasing her about it every chance she got. The teen tried to look amused by the redhead’s attempt at romantic humor, but the look she was giving ended up being pained.

“I did, too.” She replied honestly, not noticing Alya drop the fork onto the autumn-leaf covered grass as she went back to staring at Adrien.

Adrien, dressed in the usual black leather jacket, chose to wear a short gray vest with a white-collared button up underneath it. The jeans he had on were gray-blue and tight, reaching just where his black oxford shoes started. Before, he always wore a white tee and ripped gray jeans with torn up converse.

She absently wondered what had changed.

Adrien caught her staring and grinned. He too had noticed the funk Marinette was in, but knew that there was caution tape surrounding the subject that only Alya dared to cross, so he left it at that. Instead, he subjected her to endless unfunny and suggestive jokes until either Nino or Alya would have to threaten him to stop.

That, at least, got her to smile and laugh.

Friday Night

Tikki tutted at the menacing clouds overhead from her alcove in the pocket of Marinette’s red trench coat, poking her head out to glare at the foreboding weather. Thunder shook the darkened windows of the Dupain-Cheng bakery, prompting Marinette to retreat farther under the establishment’s decorative awning. A heavy gust of wind disturbed the high ponytail she had tied her impossibly frizzy hair into, the promise of rain not far behind.

“We should really wait inside for Adrien, Mari!” Tikki hissed, glancing at the bakery doors.

“Shh! Someone might see you! Besides, my parents would only ask more questions if they saw Adrien come in alone, given that I told them I was going out with friends.” Marinette pushed the kwami back into her hiding place just as a couple giggling and holding hands rushed by them, giving the teen a strange look in passing.

Oh, well.

“Well, it’s getting dark, so he better hurry up.” Tikki continued to fret, shivering slightly from her chosen’s cold fingertips.

Night was falling faster than usual because of the gloomy weather, along with the temperature. Marinette regretted turning her nose up at her old blue jeans in favor of wearing the black tights that matched her red ankle boots. Unfortunately, where her tights lacked in warmth, so did her coat; the inside of the trench coat was lined with silk, not felt, which failed at trapping heat.

I’m going to freeze for the sake of fashion. She thought ruefully, squinting as another big gust of wind swept across the street.

More pedestrians hurried by them as the minutes ticked by, all of them having enough sense to seek shelter from the impending storm. In no time Marinette was the only one left standing on the corner, save for a patrolling police woman who had stopped on the opposing street corner to smoke a cigarette. Despite being Ladybug herself, it was oddly comforting to know she was in safe company in case it grew too late and the Friday night crowd took to the pavement.

Marinette had already locked eyes with the woman twice by the time a dark green Renault duster pulled up to the curb near the bakery. The heroine tensed, warily watching the figure behind the vehicle’s tinted windows as the car engine was killed. When the side door opened and revealed the figure to be Adrien, she immediately relaxed; the police woman was now watching them with interest.

Marinette began walking to the car, shouting a stiff ‘hey’ in greeting.

“Hey, sorry for the wait, my father was bein’ a pain in the ass.” Adrien apologized, meeting her halfway.

“It’s fine; at least you got here before I turned into a human popsicle.” She brushed his excuse aside, taking a brief survey of his person.

His hair was parted on one side of his forehead and smoothed back into tasteful blonde waves that tapered into a low buzz cut which perfectly showed off his ear piercings. He had zipped up his leather jacket partway to his chest, enough so that his V-neck gray shirt was still visible.

How can someone still manage to get a tan in October, when it’s the middle of autumn?

Models. A voice whispered back like it was the most obvious answer.

Much to her inner fashionista’s delight, Adrien had chosen to wear ripped denim jeans to offset the blending of neutral colors, which flared out around his black combat boots. All in all, a good look to slip into an adult bar unnoticed.

…unlike her rather noticeable appearance.

Well, shit.

Something in her gut told her that Adrien would not be too happy if she went back inside to change.

“Too bright of a color?” Marinette asked upon seeing the odd look the male was giving her.

“Yeah, but don’t worry about it. We should go now, the bar is kind of far from here.” Adrien quickly ushered them into the car, shoving the key into the ignition and impatiently running his fingers along the steering wheel as the engine roared to life.

No sooner had Marinette buckled herself in the seat, they were speeding away from her home and into the murky dusk. Unlike the methodical and careful driver she had been taught to be by her father, Adrien was the exact opposite. He threw caution to the wind as he weaved in and out of traffic, going above the speed limit and slamming the brakes when they came across a traffic light. If Marinette was normally a klutz on two legs, that made Adrien a total disaster behind the wheel.

Instead of watching the dizzying scenery zip by in the passenger window, she took the liberty of inspecting the car’s interior. Its sleek design and touch-screen radio indicated right away it was an expensive model, and judging by its contemporary appearance, a new one at that. There were mint and pine candle clips attached to the air vents above the front console, so the scent of stale cigarettes was faint. Everything in the vehicle was so pristine and clean-shaven, one would have thought the owner was a ghost.

He’s going to be if he keeps driving like this!

“I thought you had to be 18 to legally apply for a license and drive a car?” Marinette pointed out as they rounded a particularly narrow corner.

Adrien glanced at her in the rearview window before shrugging.

“And?”

“And you have been driving to school since the beginning of the year. Illegally.”

“My birthday is next week, darlin’, its not that big of a deal.”

Marinette started and gave him a sharp look.

“This is news. What day is your birthday?” And why didn’t you tell me?

“’The hell you looking at me like that? It’s on Monday, yah know, the 20th.” Adrien grumbled, screeching to a stop at yet another red light.

Wait that’s…Chat Noir’s birthday too.

Marinette felt her stomach plummet.

“Oh.” She hadn’t given her partner much thought that evening until then, too distracted by their plans.

Chat Noir.

We never did make plans to hang out on his birthday, not that it matters.

There is too much to do now as it is.

Marinette fiddled with her hands, violently repressing all the memories and emotions she had been wallowing the past couple days. Right now, her sole focus was the crime scene and Adrien Agreste. She could lament over Chat Noir when she was alone, in the safety of her room.

Adrien needs Marinette’s help right now, not her drama and baggage.

If Adrien noticed the drop in her mood, he didn’t say anything.

Lifting her head, Marinette had not noticed they entered a seedier part of Paris until the car lurched to a stationary position on uneven cement beneath a flickering street light, Adrien announcing unceremoniously: “We’re here!”

She shot him a skeptical look as they both got out of the car, taking great care to step over the cracks in the pavement. The area they were in was small and crowded with buildings, most of them being rundown warehouses that were transformed into nightclubs. Judging by the amount of shady people already loitering outside the establishments and the loud music that could be heard beyond the thresholds, this was definitely not a place for adolescents to be.

Yet, here we are. She thought ruefully, pursing her lips.

Marinette made her way over to where Adrien stood, trying to ignore the way the claps of thunder overhead and the screams seeping from the nightclubs around them sounded alike.

“Is this the place?” She addressed the unsuspecting building in front of them, gaze snagging on the open space between itself and an abandoned duplex on the other side.

“The one and only.” He replied, eyeing her sideways.

The structure was made up of a jumble of red and tan brick, with a stone staircase leading to the bar’s entrance. On a huge, rectangular window off to the side of the entrance displayed the bar’s open and close times, along with a distorted view of the contents behind the hazed glass. There, above the window and entrance, read the name of the bar in neon red cursive:

Dust Devil.

“Interesting name.”

“Yep. Shall we go in?” Adrien held out the crook of his elbow for her to take, astonishingly.

Marinette arched a brow at this gesture.

“I don’t know if this is the right time or place to be a gentleman, Adrien.” She told him bluntly, searching his face for any sign of illness. “Are you feeling okay?”

She placed a hand on his forehead to check his temperature. It felt cool to touch from the humidity.

“For safety purposes, darlin’. Plenty of assholes around here know my face, and they’re goin’ to wanna know yours, too. For different reasons, I’d imagine.” Adrien reached up and enveloped her hand in his. “Not that I’d ever let that happen.”

This sent Marinette reeling backwards mentally, her insides heating up at his consideration.

That’s…actually pretty sweet of him.

She peered at their interlocked hands.

And this is kind of intimate.

Something pleasant and warm settled in her chest, in spite of the chilly weather.

To hide her discomposure, Marinette swiftly curled a hand around the hardened muscle of his upper arm and the other in the steeple of his elbow.

“F-Fair enough. If shit hits the fan, you’ll be the one people will hit because you’re taller, at least.” She mumbled, pulling them stiffly forward.

Adrien laughed at this as they ambled up the steps, a smile dangling from the corner of his lips.

“Oh, the fuckers would never get the chance.” He mused, pushing open the door so they could enter.

Once inside, there were three things that stood out to Marinette.

One: It was desert themed, with goddamn cactus-shaped string lights outlining the perimeter of the ceiling.

Two: Every piece of furniture, that including the bar and stools, appeared sanded and rustic (much like if they were hit by an actual dust devil).

Three: There was a legitimate jukebox tucked away in a corner by the elevated bar.

Now the name makes sense.

Adrien maneuvered them around numerous gruff looking patrons who laughed merrily and drank from dark bottles she could only assume was alcohol. Exhausted wait staff buzzed around the room taking orders and balancing platters, some of them even waving to them in recognition. As they drew closer to the main bar, her ears picked up soft, twangy music emanating from the jukebox in a language Marinette did not quite understand.

Her stomach was doing flips of impressive feats by the time they situated themselves on barstools, arms still entwined. Now that they were higher up from everyone else, she was sure that more than a few people were watching them. Their dubious stares dug into her back like thorns. She opted to ignore them for the sake of acting natural.

“So, who do you know here again?” She asked, staring at the vast assortment of liquor on the wall across from them. “The owner, I hope?”

The smell of alcohol is so strong, it’s making me nauseous.

“Sort of. The owner’s daughter is a bartender here, and a talented one at that. She’s also a fan of mine, not surprisingly, which comes in handy if I need favors.” Adrien winked, flashing an arrogant grin. “Such as this one.”

Marinette decided she disliked the implications behind his words.

I’ll ask him about it later.

“Okay…?” The heroine gave their busy bartender a deadpan expression. Although they had their back to the counter, she could tell it was a woman because of how petit their build was. There was something naggingly familiar about the way the woman’s blonde hair was done up in twintails.

It almost reminds me of…

The woman turned around, and Marinette was shocked to see a familiar face.

Aurore Beauréal!

After the Stormy Weather incident, Aurore transferred out of their school and hadn’t been seen since. She never tried to pursue her passion for meteorology, Alya had told her once, because no news channel wanted to put an akuma victim in the impressionable and influential position of weather girl. It had infuriated Marinette at the time, but there was nothing to be done about the judgement of others.

Aurore’s glacial blue eyes brightened when she saw Adrien, nearly dropping the mixer she had been shaking to greet him.

“Adrien! What the hell are you doing here so early? Let me finish this order, and then we can talk in my dad’s office.” She inclined her head to a sharply dressed woman sitting at the end of the bar.

“Sounds perfect. This is Marinette Dupain-Cheng, by the way. You used to go to Collège Françoise Dupont with her…”

Aurore inspected Marinette with an insightful stare, lingering on their interlocked arms. She smiled haughtily, and reached under the counter without breaking eye contact.

“I might have seen you around, Marinette. You were the do-gooder, right?” Aurore was nonchalantly pouring the concoction from the mixer into a martini glass, the fruity-alcoholic fragrance filling the air between them. Marinette felt her stomach roil in disgust from the strange beverage, face pinching into a grimace.

I feel a gag coming on.

“Well, yes? If that’s what you want to call doing the right thing.” She leaned away from Aurore and the martini, pressing firmly against Adrien’s side in the process. The scent of leather and sweet cigars infiltrated her nostrils, and the teen gladly embraced this change.

“Yeah…excuse me for a moment.” Aurore pasted on a friendly smile before bringing the martini over to the business woman. While they were conversing, Adrien looked down at her expectantly.

His eyebrows started to wiggle insufferably.

“If you wanted to cuddle, you could of at least waited until we were alone, darlin’.” He patted her hand fondly, smirking.

“Oh, but it’s more exciting this way…” Adrien faltered for a moment, and she chuckled. “Kidding! The smell of alcohol makes me sick to my stomach, and that martini didn’t help anything—hey, quit giving me that look!” Marinette swatted his arm, the smile she had on betraying her true thoughts.

Adrien coughed and turned his face away, the tips of his ears going crimson. Making him flustered was certainly not her intention, but the results were fruitful.

“Uh, I’ll keep that—um, in mind next time we, well, go out.” He mumbled to his hand, and Marinette pinked at the suggestion.

‘Go out’…he means to like another outing to look for leads to the culprit?

Yeah.

“Are you jokers done? If you are, then feel free to follow me to the office, it’s ‘round back.” Aurore suddenly materialized next to Marinette, lightly laying a hand on her shoulder. Through the fabric of her coat, she could feel how icy Aurore’s hands were. It reminded her of Stormy Weather’s cold winds. “Unless, of course, you need a few more minutes.”

Aurore tightened her grip on Marinette’s shoulder, leering at Adrien in a knowing way. She noticed the slope of his jaw clenched almost imperceptibly.

What was that about?

“Fuck off, we’re right behind you.” Adrien shoved off his stool, jerking Marinette off of hers as well. The weight of other’s gazes did not stop dragging at her back until the creaky wooden door of the office shut behind them.

Aurore sauntered around the desk towards the back of the small room and flopped down in a worn leather armchair. She gestured to the loveseat placed directly across from the desk, suddenly serious. Marinette noted the open laptop off to the side of the blonde and the scatter of Manilla folders beneath where she had rested her hands. It all seemed very official.

When they took their seats, Aurore spoke to them in a whisper.

“A friend of a friend managed to smuggle me copies of the main case files. Mostly photographs of the alley right after the attack, but feel free to read the descriptions too.” Aurore slid the files over to Adrien.

Marinette watched as Adrien began to open the first folder, but almost immediately after a manicured hand slammed down to keep the flap shut. Tikki shifted in her coat pocket, probably as startled as she was by the sudden noise.

“What the hell, Aurore?!” Adrien exclaimed, emerald eyes flashing in warning. “What’s your deal?”

“Before you open them, explain to me why you brought Marinette Dupain-Cheng with you.”

“She’s—” Adrien started to explain, but Marinette briskly cut him off.

“I’m here to help. Adrien asked for my aid, so now I’m here. You can trust me.” Marinette smiled at Aurore reassuringly, employing the same tone that Ladybug used to calm down civilians.

Aurore looked to Adrien to confirm, who nodded with contempt. Her hand retracted back to her side.

“Fine. Whatever.” Aurore waved her hand, giving them permission to proceed with the files.

The duo secretly glanced at each other with triumphant simpers.

They both then endeavored to comb through the files, bouncing comments off the other occasionally. Many of the photos depicted remnants of the encounter; most notably, the small blood splatters on the ground and a demolished dumpster. From the substantial damage done to the dumpster, Marinette was sure it was an akuma’s doing. Though, she dare not voice this assumption to the others.

As Marinette was scanning the last file over, one photograph in particular snagged her attention. It was apparent that it was taken by a phone camera, given the elongated stature of the picture and poor resolution. Yet, it was the only one of its kind compared to the professionally snapped photos stapled around it, which made it suspicious. The image exhibited a small group of indistinguishable figures crowded in an alley from afar, but that’s all that could be made out. Beside the photo was a neatly printed comment that said “Nearby witness was able to capture all four attackers on camera. Their identities are still unknown”.

Marinette was in shock. There were not one, but four attackers?! How could that be?

That is so vile! Poor Kim and Ivan…it wasn’t even a fair fight.

I need to tell Tikki about this as soon as possible. Chat Noir definitely needs to know, too.

“A-Adrien…look.”

Marinette brandished her find to Adrien, who hastily inspected the report. All the color drained from his face.

“Aurore, what the hell is this?!” Adrien thrust the offending file to her. “Why the hell did you not tell me sooner?!”

“Hey, calm down! I figured it would be better to let you find out on your own, okay?” The bartender typed something on her laptop, pushing the file away.

“You wanted me to find out that my two friends got their asses handed to them by four goddamn people on my own?! Don’t you think that is kind of a bad move?!” Adrien seethed, crossing his arms. Marinette winced at his harsh wording, her own anger starting to surface.

“Okay, when you put it that way, yeah it was a bad idea.” Aurore admitted and turned the laptop to them to reveal a video recording. Adrien stilled beside her.

“What is that?” Marinette asked curiously, trying her best not to sound irritated. “And why are you showing it to us?”

“It’s the security feed from the night Kim and Ivan were attacked. We have a camera in the alley way, but there’s no audio and there’s a huge shadow over the fight from the building. But, it’s the best close up you’re going to get.” Aurore replied somberly, gaze flickering to Adrien. “I didn’t want to show it to you until you fully had a grasp on the situation. Just watch it and I’ll explain everything else.”

Adrien said nothing as he reached over and pressed the play button. Marinette watched with horror and disgust at the scene that unfolded in the video. Kim and Ivan were thrown around the alley way by four figures until a smaller but commanding figure held up a hand for them to stop. The video may have been darkened, but she recognized the build of the akuma to be feminine. The last thing to be caught by the film before the group vanished into the night was that all of them were wearing the color orange.

But why? Why Kim and Ivan? And why did they all have orange on?

This just brings about more questions that have no answer.

Adrien shut the laptop with a glower.

“Explain.” He barked at Aurore.

“Gladly. My guess is there’s a new gang in town, and this was their entrance. This could be interpreted as a warning, but I think their actions were too specific. If I were you, I’d watch your back, Adrien.” Aurore rested her chin on her steepled hands, pausing so the information could digest.

An akumatized gang leader with willing cronies, huh? She pondered morbidly.

Hawkmoth had certainly gained an edge to his plans on obtaining their miraculouses. It was brilliant and meant trouble for both Ladybug and Chat Noir. They would definitely have to be more vigilant than ever, for there could be eyes everywhere.

“Do you know anything about them? Besides what you already told us and what we’ve seen?” Marinette blurted out, a sinking feeling in her chest.

Aurore shrugged and shook her head.

“I know that when the news channel and media outlets find out about this, they’ll blow it way out of proportion. I also know that, for some ungodly reason, that blame is being pinned on Ladybug and Chat Noir. Whoever is spinning rumors like that must be good to turn people against our damn saviors of France.”

“Yeah, well, they’re a damn idiot if they believe that this is Ladybug and Chat Noir’s fault. I know Chat Noir would never allow such violence to persist.” Adrien said with a flourish. “He would give his life to protect the people of France.”

“Exactly! Ladybug has done so much for Paris and its people, so why would she ever allow something like this to happen? She would kneel over and die before she would willingly let someone else get hurt.” Marinette had felt the burning desire to defend her alternate persona, and Adrien’s fierce claim gas-lighted a fire inside her.

I wonder if he’s a fan of his.

Their gazes met and something secretive yet intangible passed between them, like an understanding of some sort that both receiving ends could not make heads or tails of. It was extremely gratifying and alleviated some of the pressure on both their shoulders.

Aurore stared at them in near disbelief before coughing loudly to get their attention.

“It’s getting late and I don’t want to keep you guys long. Normally, I would let you stay, but in light of recent events I cannot.” She held up a hand as Marinette and Adrien stood to leave.

“I meant what I said, though. Watch your back, Adrien. As for you, Marinette, I hope you understand what you’re getting yourself into.”

Marinette looked up at Adrien. “I do.”

“Good. It would be a shame if you got those nice hands of yours dirty.” Aurore responded cryptically, and Marinette raised a brow at the metaphor. Adrien gave Aurore a mildly threatening glare.

What is it with these people and metaphors?

She chose to let it go for now and they left Aurore standing in the doorway.

Outside, it had already begun to sprinkle.

They were almost to the car when Aurore shot out of Dust Devil and yelled after them.

“Hang on! One more thing I forgot to tell you! Those bastards in the video, the people around here have given them a name.” The petit blonde flitted over to them, quickly checking the area before whispering

“Vixens.”

Adrien walked Marinette to her door, even though it was pouring rain outside.

“You okay?” She placed a hand on his back, concerned for his mental health after their rollercoaster of a night. He had been quiet the entire car ride back.

“Yeah…” Adrien let out a shaky sigh. “Yeah, thanks for asking. Are you okay?”

“Me? I just feel sad for Kim and Ivan. Whatever happens to those people that attacked them, I hope it’s well deserved.” Marinette replied softly, unconsciously moving her hand down Adrien’s shoulder and resting it on his forearm.

Adrien suddenly grabbed her hand on brought it to his lips, kissing her knuckles tenderly. Marinette yelped and pulled her hand from his grip, a blush dusting her cheeks.

“What was that for?!” She demanded, thoroughly surprised.

Adrien cracked a genuine smile and took a few steps back.

“Thanks for coming with me tonight. I mean it.” He smirked, and added, “That hand kiss was me showing my gratitude, by the way. Text you later.”

With that, Adrien dissipated into the rain, leaving Marinette to wonder what the hell that made their relationship.

#my writing #cal #cigarettes and leather #ml #ml fanfic #miraculous ladybug #miraculous ladybug fanfiction #ml badboy #ml badboy au

13 notes · View notes

thorne93 · 7 years

Text

What Are We Gonna Do? (Part 10)

Prompt: Imagine that you’re Spencer Reid’s wife, and you get the news of his arrest in Mexico. But you’ve been keeping something from him and the team. How will it affect Spencer?

Word Count: 1833

Warnings: Language, violence, anger, drama, angst

Notes: This picks up right at the beginning of Season 12, episode 13. Spoilers from here till then. Thanks to my beta @like-a-bag-of-potatoes

Tags: @ultrarebelheart @cocosierra94 @marvel-imagines-yes-please @demongodess @brooklhyn

~~~~~~~~~~~~

A few days later, you got the bad news from Fiona - his case had been moved back six weeks. She offered to meet you at the jail to tell Spence face to face.

“Six weeks?!” he nearly screamed. “I thought we were on the rocket docket?!”

“I know,” Fiona started, “but there are delays because of the arresting officer’s limited availability.”

They talked for a few more moments until you said, “This could be a good thing, Spence.”

“Good? How is this good, Y/N?” he demanded angrily. “The longer I’m in here the more like them I become. The less of a father I am. The less of a husband I am. I’m no good to you in here!”

“Because it could give us more time to find out who that woman was in the hotel room. It may even give you time to remember more.”

“Could I talk to Y/N alone?” Spencer requested to Fiona.

“Sure.” She nodded and left.

“Y/N, how can you possibly say that this is good?” Spence demanded once he stood up to face you.

“Because we need to get you exonerated,” you reminded desperately. You sighed. “Spence, please don’t fight me on this. Do you want to see the video from the baby doctor?” you asked hopefully, praying he’d want to take his mind off of it.

“No...I don’t. It’ll just remind me of the failure I am here.”

“Spence,” you started, but he cut you off.

“No, don’t ‘Spence’ me, Y/N! I’m in here! You’re not! I’m the one who has to fear for his life! I’m the one who’s life is on the line! Not yours! I asked Tara to make sure you all stayed away because it’s bad for me in here and you all keep coming.” He was belligerent, and you’d never seen him that way.

Your blood suddenly ignited. “Fuck you!” you nearly shouted. “Do you have any idea what it’s like? What it’s like to find out you're pregnant only to hear a day later that your husband has been arrested? I can’t even be happy over this because you’re in prison! Meanwhile, I’m trying to work because you lost your job, clean the house, make sure I eat and sleep to keep our child healthy, take care of your mom, who hit me by the way,” you informed. Shock crossed his face as his eyes went wide. “Yeah, your mom hit your pregnant wife. She’s fighting me about Cassie. All while trying to work to get you freed, and not break down. Everyone is telling me to be strong for you, but you know what? I can’t. I can’t fucking do it. And I don’t need you pouting. You’re in here. I get that. It fucking sucks, I’m aware. But man up! Because it’s not just your life on the line, it's mine and your kid’s.” You went to the door and knocked so the guard could let you out. He opened the door and you turned back to your husband. “So sit in here and fucking mope.”

His face was a mask of disbelief, confusion, and pain. You had never yelled at Spence. Hell, the most you’d ever argued was whose turn it was to clean something, when you usually compromised and both cleaned it together. There was no fight when he said he wanted to move his mom in. There was no fight when he said he wanted to go down to Mexico...Now you were thinking, maybe there should’ve been.

With that, you stormed out, telling Fiona she could go back in.

You were so beyond pissed at this point. You couldn’t imagine what he was going through but this was less and less like a partnership. He was sitting in there moping, gripping, feeling sorry for himself, and meanwhile you were dealing with everything outside.

So he could sit in there and just have his pity party.

You stopped by the office and told Emily you needed to take leave for at least two weeks.

“What’s going on?” she questioned with concern.

“I just need time,” you assured. “I just saw Spence and...well, we had a fight, and I think for right now, it would be better if I didn’t see him.”

“Y/N,” she said, tilting her head, starting to chastise you.

“No, Em. I mean it. Between the baby, Spence, and his mom, I can’t work and see him every day in that prison. I just can’t.”

“I know this is hard. I can’t imagine what you’re going through, but you have to be st--”

“Strong? Seriously, Emily? Spare me. I get that it’s hard in there. I get that he’s scared, but he said he didn’t want to see the video from the doctor’s. He’s losing his grip in there and I won’t pander him for it. He has to get his shit together just like I have to.”

“But not visiting him, he needs you,” she tried.

“If he needed me, he wouldn’t be acting like a child in there. So, please just work his case, and unless you have something for me, I don’t want to hear about him.”

She nodded and squeezed your shoulder.

You left her office and stopped by Garcia’s office on the way out.

“Hey,” you said gently as you knocked.

“Oh, hey mama bear!” she greeted as she spun in her chair.

“I just got back from seeing Spence,” you explained.

“How is he?” she asked.

“He’s a fucking dick, that’s how he is,” you spat.

“Oh, woah. What happened?” she asked as she lead you to her spare chair.

You shook your head and sighed. “I went to tell him that his case had been pushed back six weeks. Which, I understand, at first isn’t good news but I tried to tell him there was a silver lining and he blew up on me.

“That doesn’t sound like him,” she countered softly with a frown as she touched your knee.

“I know, but since he’s been in there he’s almost a different person. I offered to show him the doctor video and he refused. He’s being a giant baby and I can’t do it. I can’t be strong for him and help him if he’s going to act like that.”

Garcia frowned at you. “So what are you going to do?”

“I just took two weeks off. I’m going to take care of Diana, the house, start working on what I need for the baby and that’s it.”

“So you aren’t going to visit him any more?” she questioned, worry crossing her face.

“Nope. Not for two weeks, at least.”

“Oh, Y/N, don’t do that. He needs you, he’s just stressed.”

“And I’m not? I have to stay de-stressed for this baby, but everytime I go in there...Garcia, everytime I go in there, I just want to hit him for being so stupid. He let this all happen. He’s moping, he’s getting beat up because he can’t keep his head down.”

“That’s just who he is, Y/N, you can’t hold that against him.”

“Garcia, I’m pregnant, and he’s choosing risky shit. He’s being reckless with no regard for our family. He’s got to start putting our child first. It’s just best, for now, if I don’t see him.”

“But, what will everyone think? What if they think you’re abandoning him?”

“Then they don’t fully understand the situation,” you answered as you stood. “Thanks for letting me vent. But don’t tell me how he is and don’t ask me to come see him, I don’t care what he says. Just tell me if there’s a break in the case. But right now, he needs tough love.”

She nodded, a tear rolling down her cheek.

“It’ll be okay,” you assured as you hugged her.

You drove home, heaviness in your heart. It killed you to think of not seeing him, but for now, the stress was dividing you two and you couldn’t have that.

When you got home, there was a new girl there, not Cassie.

“Who are you?” you questioned to the young girl.

“I’m Carol Atkinson,” she introduced. “I’m Cassie’s replacement.”

“Replacement? Why?” you wondered, looking over to Diana who was sitting on the extra chair in the living room.

“Diana called our company and requested a new nurse.”

“Oh, well...alright. Do you have much experience with her type of issues?”

“I’ve had one or two patients. I will make sure all her medical needs are met, that she gets her pills on time, that she gets meals on time.”

You smiled. “Great. Well help yourself. I’ll be home for the next two weeks. My husband is...preoccupied for some time,” you explained. Carol nodded and you went up to Diana.

“Hey, Diana,” you greeted. “How are you?”

“Stacy? Is that you?”

You sighed. “No, Diana. It’s Y/N, Spencer’s wife?”

She stared through you though, nothing catching. You sighed and stood up. You decided to take a look at the barely-ever-used office. It could make a good nursery. You’d paint it with all sorts of pretty colors. Disney and solar system sounded good for a theme. It was just then that you realized, you never talked to your child. You never thought of a future with the child. You’d been so focused on Spence, the idea of child rearing never came into your mind.

You stepped into the disorganized office, your hands on your hips.

“Well, little one,” you finally said as you looked around the room, imaging a nice nursery. “This will be all yours. We’ll get you a nice crib. And when I say nice, I mean a super safe one. Know what I call cribs? Baby prisons. Yep. I just always think you little ones will put your little arm in there and fall.” You shuddered. “But don’t worry, I won’t let that happen. Know why? Because your mom and dad are super heroes. We take out bad guys every day. Well, I do, Daddy’s a little indisposed at the moment. Even if he is a jerk, he’s still a good agent.” You smiled to yourself. “Your dad is going to love reading to you. If he even does read!” You chuckled. “He will probably read something and summarize it for you.” You shook your head, smiling. “Yeah, I think this place will do just fine. See, I want to make sure your room is covered top to bottom with Disney propaganda, your dad will probably demand some sort of brainiac activity. Which, is good… But I think a kid needs to be a kid for as long as they can. What do you think?”

You spent the rest of the afternoon shopping online for everything baby: books, cribs, rockers, toys, clothing, changing table. You didn’t buy any of it, but it was sort of fun to start. Whenever Spence got out, you’d have something for him now to look at.

#what are we gonna do #reid #reid fic #reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fic #criminal minds fic

42 notes · View notes