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violette-hue · 2 years

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Summary: Ushijima invites you to Paris with ulterior motives in mind.

Pairing: Ushijima x fem!Reader

Trigger Warning(s): Trust issues, mentions of being a player, cursing, clubbing, alcohol, not nice words(?), insulting, arguing, abandonment, love, unprotected sex, slight sub/dom, creampie, slight breeding kink, high heels

Word Count: 4.9k

A/N: Truthfully, I'm 50/50 about how I feel about this fic. I've been working on this for quite some time, and dont have the heart to proof read it (because I think I'll scrap the whole thing). I hope you guys enjoy it! I'm almost at 400 followers, and have been thinking about doing an event. Let me know if you guys would like me to do one to participate in ♥︎

500 Match-Up Event

**Minors Do Not Interact**

Ushijima Wakatoshi wasn't the type to stay with one person for too long. It wasn't his thing to have just one partner either. For a man of his status and wealth, people tended to throw themselves at him. Especially the women that followed the team around like groupies. That's why you kept a ten foot pole between you and him, no matter how hard he tried to get to you. No matter how badly you wanted him to get to you.

You met Ushijima some time ago, and despite his quiet nature, you became quick friends with him. Friends with attempted benefits—in his eyes at least. He had invited you to most of the extravagant places he went, and each time had tried to make a move on you. Of course you never gave in, but the free trips and hotel stays were very nice.

Perhaps if he was different, was maybe even someone else you'd give him a chance. He was too infamous, too much of a player to trust. If you caved, you knew you'd fall for him. And your heart couldn't handle that. So you tried your best to pay Ushijima back with your friendship and companionship.

But paying him back with a platonic relationship was growing harder with each invitation. Especially now that you had been invited to Paris. You had arrived in the city of love showered with gifts: a white fur coat, diamond earrings, and nearly four dozen roses in your hotel room. A hotel room that was conveniently right next to Ushijima's with a connecting door. You rolled your luggage next to the empty wardrobe and sighed. You had a feeling this whole trip would be dedicated to wooing you. This time you might cave in, and that scared you.

Suppose you let him in, what would happen then? His history in past relationships only brought you to one conclusion—he’d kick you to the curb once he was done with you. You didn’t want that, no one really did. That’s why you couldn’t allow yourself to budge on this. This was for your own good.

A knock sounded at the connecting door just as you had taken your shoes off. Your feet padded on the luxurious Parisian carpet towards the door and you turned the lock. A small smile graced your lips. At least he was thoughtful enough to have the lock on your side of the room.

"Yes?" you said, shifting your weight to one leg and crossing your arms.

Ushijima took a step inside the room. The hair on the back of your neck prickled as you tilt your head back to meet his gaze. You knew he was much taller than you, he was taller than nearly everyone. What you didn't know was how small you would feel next to him without your shoes on. He was still wearing the same outfit he wore to pick you up from the airport —a black cashmere sweater and black jeans. The sweater, somehow, clung on to his muscles like a second skin. It took you some effort to force your gaze back to his face, and when it finally met its destination, you were welcomed with a coy smirk.

"Change," Ushijima stated, his eyes trailing over your body. "Something nice to match the coat and earrings."

A shiver ran up your spine, your skin suddenly becoming sensitive to the casual sweater you wore. You arched a brow, but didn't say anything. You were shocked Ushijima had planned something out for you. No one had ever even attempted to plan dinner. Yet, here was this man, buying you gifts with the intention to utilize them immediately on a...a date? You felt heat rush to your cheeks at the realization. This was a date. How had he managed to rope you into this?

"And wear those heels I like," he added.

You nodded, rolling your eyes slightly. "Sir, yes, sir," you sighed, moving to your abandoned luggage. "What are you gonna wear?"

You hauled your luggage onto the bed and zipped it open. Your eyes caught on a familiar satin beige material, and you pulled it out. This dress should do, but you’d probably be freezing without the coat.

“Not that one, wear something black,” Ushijima interjected. “To match me.”

Both of your brows raised as you turned toward him. You pursed your lips and took a moment to collect your thoughts. He had picked you up from the airport with gifts, had the rest of the day—and probably night—planned, was requesting you were the shoes “he likes”, and now he wanted you to match? Every alarm went off in your mind, some good and some bad. This was definitely a date.

"...Alright..." you answered, tossing the beige dress on the bed. "What are you wearing?"

Your fingers grabbed the soft, silky, black material of another dress and unrolled the garment. There were a few wrinkles here and there, but it was nothing the steam from a hot shower couldn't work out. You pulled a velvet hanger from the closet with pursed lips. The more you pondered on your new choice of wear for tonight, the more you realized how bad of an idea it would be. The silk material was much more thin than the satin of the beige dress. The bitter winter wind would cut straight through the fabric to your bones if you didn't bring your new fur coat along. And even then...

You placed your dress in the bathroom on the back of the door and returned to your luggage. You felt Ushijima's eyes follow you, your skin tingling with the almost tangible gaze. You turned to him with raised brows. Was he going to stand here the whole time?

Though you were expecting a response, none came. Just a deep, toe curling grunt, and then Ushijima was gone. The door shut with a click and you didn't even bother to lock it.

A heavy sigh pushed through your lips. You were excited to finally visit Paris, but you knew this trip would be challenging. Making it past tonight without jumping into Ushijima's arms--or bed--would be the biggest challenge. You chewed on the inside of your lip and padded over to the bathroom. A cold shower it was--you'd find another way to work out the wrinkles in that damn dress.

By the time Ushijima knocked on your door, you were shoving an earring through your ear. With your permission, he entered through the connected door and leaned against the wall. You didn't bother to address him, not when your shoes were still packed in your luggage and your coat was still in its garment bag. You yanked the requested heels from your bag and shoved them on your feet. Luckily, those were your favorite heels, too. From so many uses, they were already broken in and comfortable.

After your shoes were on, you finally turned to Ushijima. “What do you think?” you asked, turning so he could see the full outfit. “Up to your standards?”

“You’ve always been up to my standards.”

You faltered mid turn, the tips of your ears growing warm as butterflies flew rampant in your stomach. You finished the turn and dared a glance at Ushijima. He was already looking at you, his eyes dark and promising worship. Those butterflies flew a little lower and it was hard to keep your composure. You slapped on smile and rolled your eyes. The movements felt wrong, but by the gods you’d be damned if you let him see your walls coming down.

“You can’t just say those things, Toshi,” you said, trying to sound nonchalant. “Especially if you don’t mean them.”

"I do mean it." Ushijima's gaze slid from your eyes to roam over the curves of your body. "Why wouldn't I?"

You shifted under his gaze and tried to find something to lock your eyes on. Your eyes landed on the garment bag your coat was placed in and you moved toward it. You chewed on the inside of your cheek and unzipped the bag.

"Well, y'know..." you trailed off, your fingers pausing in the soft fabric of the coat. "It's just that you've had so many other beautiful partners." You hoped your answer was just offensive enough to change the subject, but not offensive enough to ruin the whole night. Or even the whole trip.

"I've always wanted you." Though you weren't facing him, you felt his presence move closer. A hand grazed your waist gently as it trailed over the silky material of your dress to your abdomen. "Even now, I still want you."

You swallowed hard, the skin under his touch scorching. Your breasts felt heavy, your nipples perking through the fabric. Could he see that? The material was so thin, if it were a lighter color your areola would surely be visible. Thank the heavens for black fabric, for not much passing through the dense color.

You heard Ushijima chuckle behind you, his chest rumbling and the low timbre pushing into your body. Lower and lower until you were willing your thighs not to press further together. You had to create some space between the two of you before you never make it out the room.

Your flingers glide the zipper down further and free the luxe fur out its cage. You whip the material around you, forcing Ushijima to take a few steps back and remove his hand from your abdomen. You place the warm fabric on your shoulders and finally turn to him.

"You want a lot of people," you manage to say. "I'm no different from them."

You idly play with your hair and walk to the mirror in the corner of the room. You already know what you look like, can assume how the coat makes you look a part of high society.

Thankfully, Ushijima doesn't continue the conversation. Instead, he grunts his approval and walks to the exit. You follow him out the room and to a black sedan with tinted windows. The ride is awkward and silent and neither of you look at one another. When the car pulls in front of your destination -- a tall expensive building that looks mostly made of glass -- Ushijima gets out without a word. He, surprisingly, rounds the back of the car and opens the door for you, offering his hand. You stare at the large palm and long digits. Digits you've imagined coming around so many times you feel a pulse beat in your vagina. You shake those thoughts away and gently take his hand.

He leads you into the building, walking past a receptionist and to the elevators off to the left. Once inside, he presses the number eight and leans against the cool steel elevator wall. You chew on the inside of your cheek and steal a glance at him.

"What is this place?" you ask cautiously.

Ushijima is silent for a bit, but when he finally talks his voice is borderline cold. "One of the best restaurants in Paris. Bottom floor is an exclusive club the team is meeting at."

You raise your brows. “So dinner and a club,” you repeated, a small smile gracing your lips. “Sounds like a good time.”

And it was. Dinner was the best you ever had, would probably ruin other restaurants for you, too. Nothing could ever compare to the food you had eaten. By the time dessert came around, you had completely forgotten about what happened in the hotel, and it seemed like Ushijima had forgotten, too. Dinner was all smiles and giggles, and it had a part of you wishing it could be like this all the time. Only it couldn’t. Inevitably, he would break your heart and toss you to the side for a new toy. A less broken, insecure toy.

The club seemed normal enough, like any other club. The only difference was this club was filled with extraordinarily hot French people. Had Ushijima not been with you, you would have started dancing with the first person you could get your hands on. Unless... A light bulb went off in your head. If you showed even more disinterest by dancing with everyone but him, would he leave you alone? A part of your heart clenched at the idea. You wanted to be with him, but gods, you just didn't trust him with your heart. You stole a glance at him, butterflies erupting in every part of your body. Why was he so beautiful? You let yourself imagine a future with him -- extravagant, romantic dates; luxe vacations and hotel stays; lots of sex; fragrant bouquets of hydrangeas and sweat peas lining a white aisle. Your chest ached at the latter image and you willed your eyes forward. Dancing with random horny people it was.

You grabbed a champagne flute off a nearby tray from a club attendant and downed the bubbly liquid. You made your way to the dance floor, your hips swaying to the foreign music. You let the bass move through your body and soon enough you were locking eyes with a dark haired, blue eyed patron. Lust filled his eyes and you allowed him to run his hands up and down the curves of your waist. You turned sensually, your back arching to push your ass against the stranger's crotch. He was hard, the bulge rubbing against your backside. You should have been turned on. Should have been so wet and filled with sexual desire, but you weren't. This stranger wasn't Ushijima. It wasn't his large body embracing yours.

You slithered away from the club-goer dazed and dizzy. How many drink had you allowed this stranger to give you? All the other strangers that tried to dance with you? You looked around for a familiar head of brown hair, but to no avail. Panic rose in your chest, sobering you up. You made your way to the other side of the club. Ushijima wasn't here.

"You looking for Ushiwaka?"

You turned at the familiar voice, hope filling your chest. You looked up at his teammate and nodded, almost a little too eagerly.

"He left an hour ago. I'm surprised you didn't go with him."

Your eyebrows shot up to your hairline and your mouth went lax. He had left you? Without saying anything? You ran a hand through your hair and looked around. How were you going to get back to the hotel? You looked back to Ushijima's teammate -- whose name you, quite frankly, couldn't be bothered with remembering -- and knit your brows together.

"I don't have a ride back," you yelled over the music.

The teammate nodded in understanding and pulled out his phone. "I'll call you a cab." He brought the phone to his ear and cupped his hand over the speaker and his mouth. You heard him say a few words in french. He mouthed the words "ten minutes" and walked to a quieter corner of the club. Maybe the bathrooms.

You pushed pass the club-goers to the elevators and angrily pushed the bottom to the lobby. Ushijima had left you all alone in a foreign country, not able to speak even a sentence in the language. Angry tears burned your eyes. Why the fuck would he do this? As you rode to what you hoped was your hotel, you couldn't stop the tears from falling. Your aggressively wiped them away with your fingers and looked to the roof of the cab. It wasn't worth crying over, but god you were so angry. So angry and hurt and betrayed. Had he planned to do this all along? To spite you for all the times you rejected him? You scoffed to yourself. "I've always wanted you" my ass. Of course he would do this. This was his behavior, his normal way of treating his partners.

You got out of the cab, thanking the driver in what little french you knew and marched to the elevators. The ride couldn't have gone any slower. You pushed the button for your floor again impatiently. What would you even say to him? You tapped your foot and looked around the elevator. Did you even want to talk to him? Maybe you'd just pack your things and go home. You didn't have enough in your account, so you'd have to use a credit card...

The elevator doors slid open with a ding and you made way to your room. The door opened with ease and darkness awaited you. The only light that came into your room was the natural light of the moon, seeping in through opened curtains. You furrowed your brows. You hadn't left those curtains open when you left. You looked around the room and sucked in a breath when your eyes landed on a large, muscled shadow. A shadow that was lounging in the desk chair next to the windows. You watched as the shadow swung in semi circles in the dark and flipped the light switch.

Ushijima sat there, his arms crossed. His features were set in a frown and once his eyes landed on you, the chair stopped swinging.

"Surprised you came back," Ushijima drawled, his voice laced with resentment.

"You abandoned me," you spat, ripping off your coat and throwing it at him. "What?" he hissed, shoving the luxe fur off him and standing up.

"You left me," you reiterated. "You didn't even look for me."

"You made it hard," Ushijima seethed, his arms dropping to his side with clenched fists. "You were only shaking your ass with half of France."

You scoffed and threw up your hands with exasperation. "Oh, real nice--"

"You barely gave me a chance all evening," he interrupted, taking a step closer. "You didn't look for me. I fly you here, put you in this hotel and plan a whole day for us. I did this for you. Because I love you."

Your eyes widened and you took a step back. The sudden admission took you by surprise, causing your words to leave you. You opened your mouth to say something, but nothing came out. What would you even say? You had danced with a few people at the club, and you had lost track of time. Had even forgotten all about Ushijima. You were horrible.

Your eyes slipped to the ground and you wrung your hands together. In the process of trying to save yourself from alleged heartache, you ruined your chances at love.

"I'm sorry," you muttered, "there's nothing I can say that will excuse anything I did. Or how I treated you." Tears burned your eyes once more, but these tears were egged by shame and sorrow. You really fucked this up.

Ushijima let out a frustrated sigh and plopped down in the desk chair. "I'd at least like an explanation," he admitted, running a hand through his hair.

You shifted unforgettably and pushed a breath through your lips. "I didn't--" You took a deep breath and looked out the window. "I didn't want to give myself to you just to have my heart broken."

"Do you really think so little of me?"

Your gaze switched to him in an instant at the sadness in his voice. "No," you responded immediately. "Yes? You've only done that with every other partner."

Ushijima shook his head. "You're different. I love you."

There were those words again. I love you. Your heart fluttered in your chest and you couldn't help but smile. Maybe it was the remnants of all the liquor you consumed, or maybe it was the sincerity in those sweet words, but you believed him. And because you believed him, you wanted to give him everything. Your earlier arguments and battles were long forgotten.

"I love you, too," you uttered, barely above a whisper.

The smile Ushijima beamed at you gave you the courage to timidly walk over to him. You hiked the black silk material of your dress up to your thighs and slowly climbed onto his lap. You slid your hands up his chest and rest them on his broad shoulders.

"Say it again," he commanded softly, cupping your chin gently.

“I love you.”

The words were still passing your lips when Ushijima captured them with his. How long had you waited for this kiss? It felt like eons. His lips were gentle against yours, as if he were afraid you’d flee with the tiniest surprise. Something between a of cross of giddiness and undiluted list bubbled in your chest, and suddenly this gentleness wasn’t enough. A hand glided up to his hair, your fingers tangling within the soft brown strands. Your back arched, your hips moving against his lap as you pressed your chest closer to his and deepened the kiss. A groan pulled out of Ushijima and his hands gripped your thighs tightly. His hold wasn’t one that conveyed to stop, but rather that his control was slipping. His fingertips pressed into the flesh just under your ass and he ground up against you. His hardness pressed against your inner thigh and you couldn’t help but give him that friction he needed. That you also needed. Your hips rolled against his once more as you nibbled on his bottom lip. A delicious groan rumbled through his chest and your breasts tingled at the feeling.

"'Toshi," you mewled, trailing a hand between your thighs. Your fingers pushed the fabric of your panties to the side and slid over the slick lips of your pussy.

Ushijima sucked in a deep breath and looked down to your hand. "What is it, baby?" he asked, his voice deep with lust.

"Let me make it up to you," you breathed, climbing off of him and to your knees.

Your hand remained between your thighs as the other unbuttoned his jeans. He lifted a bit from the chair and pushed the denim down his thighs. You shuffled back as he kicked off the pants and tossed them across the hotel room. His erection remained trapped under his black boxers, but the size of the imprint still had you sucking in a breath. You timidly shuffled back towards him on your knees, your fingers now parting your pussy lips and lightly circling your clit. You bent forward and lightly kissed his clothed erection, your free hand moving to slip under the band of his boxers. Your fingers wrapped around warm, hard flesh and pulled his cock out. You licked your lips at his impressive length and wrapped the muscles around the tip.

A sharp hiss left Ushijima's lips as you pushed more of his cock deeper inside your mouth. You hallowed your cheeks and bobbed your head up and down, your tongue lapping around his length and tip. You smiled as Ushijima uttered a string of curses and tangled his fingers in your hair. Gods, the feel of his cock in your mouth had your clit throbbing with neglect and need. Need for his fingers, his mouth -- anything to receive the tension. You groaned against his cock as two of your fingers pushed inside you.

"Fuck," he breathed, his hips jerking up. "You're gonna make me cum baby." His hold in your hair loosened and he threw his head back against the chair. "Just like that."

You hollowed your cheeks against him some more, your mouth a vice around his cock. When you felt him twitch inside you, you pulled your mouth away from him. Ushijima whined softly, his eyes meeting yours as you pushed yourself to your feet and licked yourself off your fingers. You were far from your orgasm, but that was okay. You didn't want to orgasm on yourself. You wanted to come hard on his cock, wanted to feel your walls flutter around him.

"I'm going to ride you," you stated with surprising clarity. "I'm going to come hard on your cock. Then I want you to come inside me and make me yours."

The sudden dominance was odd to you, but you liked it. Liked the way his entire body reacted to your plan -- a plan only you could fulfill. Courage rose in your chest and you smirked.

"Take off your clothes and touch yourself. Slowly."

"No." Ushijima stood, his presence overshadowing and overpowering yours. A hand moved to cup your chin firmly and he gave a wicked smile. "Tonight, you obey me."

You crinkled your nose and rolled your eyes slightly.

"Oh?" Ushijima drawled. He brought his hand down to the scoop neckline of your dress. "Don't be a brat now, baby."

His fingers glided over the silk neckline to the thin strap on your shoulder and tugged roughly. The material broke, sliding down your chest to expose your left breast. His fingers pinched your nipple roughly and you gasped at the contact. The smirk that was once displayed on your lips was now transferred to Ushijima.

"I want you to take off your clothes. Slowly." He took a fraction of a step back to allow me the space to disrobe.

You stared at him, expecting him to make the move to disrobe you, but the move never came. He stood there with expectant eyes. You slid the intact strap off your shoulder and shimmied the silk dress off your body. It slid down your curves and made a black pool at your feet. You pulled your panties down and moved to take your shoes off, but stopped at the grunt Ushijima made.

"Keep those on." He took a step closer to you, closer than he was before. "Sit at the edge of the bed and spread your legs."

You obeyed, spreading your legs wide for him. You propped the heels of your shoes on the small ledge of the bed frame and met his gaze. One day, you’d have him on his knees begging to shove his cock in you. Today, you were more than happy to do the begging. You never could have fathomed how hot this scenario would make you, and you felt beyond dirty.

Ushijima’s gaze darkened as he slowly started to undress. “You’re so wet for me,” he rumbled, stalking towards the bed in full, naked glory. “No foreplay.”

Your brows furrowed as he pumped his cock once, then twice. No foreplay? You were so looking forward to feeling his tongue on your clit. Your walls clenched around nothing at the thought and you shifted. You pressed your eyes shut and took a deep breath, the wanton need nearly unbearable. You imagined his breath fanning over your wet pussy, imagined his body heat between your legs— You opened your eyes and let out a wanton mewl as the tip of his cock subtly pushed against your clit. He gripped your chin once more, forcing you to look at him and not the pre-cum dripping of the tip of his penis on you.

His usual light eyes were dark and almost opaque as he watched you lick your lips. “I want to see your face when I bury myself in you,” Ushijima encouraged, the head of his cock trailing down to your entrance.

With a quick snap of his hips, he was buried deep within you, the girthiness of him straining your slick walls. You cried out loudly, your finger nails digging into the luxe sheets around you. Your shoulders slumped and your head strained against Ushijima’s grip on your chin as you adjusted to his size. Or at least tried to. He snapped his hips again, his balls slapping against you with a squelching noise. You felt his calloused thumb move to circle your clit roughly, and within a matter of minutes your orgasm rolled through you intensely.

Ushijima’s grip on your chin transferred to your leg, pulling the limb over his shoulder to thrust deeper in you. He bent his knees, pulling you closer to him until he was practically dragging your body to thrust against him. Your pussy thoroughly worked and wet, it was all you could do to hold on as another orgasm rushed though you. Your hands gripped his wrist, the other covering your mouth as your screamed your release.

No one had ever made you feel this good. No one had ever managed to elicit two orgasms from you. Yet here Ushijima was, this god—this sex god—about to pull another orgasm from you. The sounds that came from the two of you were lewd, his skin slapping against your wet skin, your needy moans and his deep grunts.

Ushijima nudged your leg off his shoulder and gripped your hips tightly, his face scrunching up deliciously. Sweat dribbled down his temples to his chest and he breathed heavily. He was pushing his limit, no doubt minutes, maybe seconds away from spilling himself inside you. The thought of his hot come inside you had your walls clenching around him, eliciting a breathy moan from him. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist and crossed at your ankles. You wanted him to release inside you, wanted to feel the intimacy that would bring.

Your heart pound in your chest as you pulled him down for a sloppy kiss.

You loved him.

His lips moved fervently against yours, his moans and yours mixing together. You tugged on his short brown locks.

And he loved you.

You found release again, your arms and legs tightening around him and he swallowed your cries with his mouth. You felt him spill himself inside you, the warm bursts of his come filling you so sweetly.

It was a while before either of you moved from the position, your breaths mingling together. Warmth spread along your body at the realization of what just happened.

This wasn’t a good fucking sesh.

This was what love felt like.

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gunraekae · 6 months

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love transcending time - aka the ikemen vampire prologue unnecessarily narrated

>ikemen vampire

>everyone x reader

>a/n: as i've promised, here's the lil project I was working on, where I wanted to write the ikemen vampire story, with as much convergence between the routes as possible. this is the first chapter for now (since I'm not sure how much text tumblr allows rip). thank u again for reading, have a wonderful day darling!

Chapter I: The Mysterious Gentleman

I thought amethysts would match the luxury of the Louvre, but as every destination I’ve visited in Paris so far has shown me, I am once again below their standards. One thing that can validate my presence in this opulent establishment is my equal fascination with the historical wonders in its deluxe walls. Leonardo Da Vinci’s “Mona Lisa” in one room and Jacques-Louis David’s “Coronation of Napoleon” in another, there was an abundance of legendary pieces and an unfortunate lack of time to fully appreciate each one. The museum itself was a work of art, the Parisian sunlight dappling the rooms in a way that only flattered the inside art. Ever since my aunt had treated me to this trip, the Musée de Louvre was the location I was most eager for, hence the destination being saved for last. In my excitement, I left my aunt back at our hotel to secure myself as much time as possible to explore its vast curation. My travelling blog was one step away from its virtual death without its recent updates, but the Paris trip had revived it like no other, and if I was to be writing its last issue for a while, it had to be on the Louvre. “Two Hours at the Louvre: what you have to see.” The little mascot that my friend had created for it, Mousette, dangled around my purse strap, and with a playful gleam in its beady eyes, it seemed to beckon me to a specific painting. A gangle of curious tourists crowded around almost every painting rendering otherwise pleasant dispositions into polite shoving. Still, the Coronation, an expansive painting that spanned across a whole wall, was particularly compelling. If I stepped closer it’s almost as if I can be in it. However, a particularly stubborn group persisted in staking their territory around it, and I would have faced my second embarrassment for the day if not for a last-minute saviour. Elegant long fingers held my arms upright in a comfortingly secure grip, and just in case gravity would have been more unkind, he stood near enough where I could descend into even stronger arms.

“Pardonne-moi mademoiselle, vous allez bien?” A rich French accent wrapped in dulcet tones broke me out of my stupor. In hopes that warmth had not shown my embarrassment, I answered assuredly and quickly brushed myself off (I’d worn my most exquisite outfit after the last couple of days of falling short). I chanced a peek at the kind stranger and my previous efforts of saving composure were as ungraceful as my fall was. A vision of a gentleman seemingly carved from gold with eyes that held endless tragedy and romance stared worriedly back. If all the time in history was dedicated to creating perfection he would be immortalized in the man in front of me. Aside from his Adonis-like features, he looked out of place, as if he very clearly did not belong in this time. A vicuna suit in the rich colours of gold and brown framed his figure perfectly, but the very style of it was the sort that a vampire in a gothic romance might have worn. “Ah, mais vos boucles d'oreilles.” he knelt to retrieve my fallen earrings and in the same graceful motion, cradled them in his palm. “Améthyste… charmante,” he mused. A small grateful smile came to me and still entranced by his aura, I allowed him to step closer. Bergamot and cedarwood enveloped me. “Puis-Je?” Once allowed, he swept back the hair from my shoulder with delicate fingers. His breath fanned the juncture between my neck and my shoulder, his Aurelian gaze trained on my face. When our eyes met, a delightfully dizzying sensation brushed over me, as if a finger silenced each of my senses. I know we are in Paris but this is too amorous an act to be coming from a stranger. “That’s a lovely fragrance,” he commented.

“Thank you, I got that perfume here in Paris,” I gulped, my breath unsteady.

“Oh… but I wasn’t referring to your perfume.”

His accent, which I surmised was dominantly French, had more depth to it; like it was a melangé of a hundred different accents. After securing the amethyst earrings, he tucked my hair behind my ears and with an almost reluctant exhale, he stepped back. Whatever spell I was under broke. “Exquisite,” he whispered under his breath. A gasp that sounded more like a croak received his praise, which at least earned me a chuckle from the mysterious gentleman.

“My rogue earring is certain to behave itself now. Merci.”

“Not at all. It was thanks to the earring that I was granted the good fortune to meet you.” I escaped his dizzying charm by glancing back at the painting that caused this scene. “Did you know that it’s the second-largest painting in the Louvre?” Perhaps in addition to my article, I can write tips on how to stumble upon handsome gentlemen. Just trip clumsily in front of them and you too can win a conversation! His old-world sort of manner was enchanting, and it urged me to hear more of his voice. “This painting marked the turn of the modern empire and it was highly regarded as this masterful piece of propaganda,” the way he spoke of the painting was almost intimate as if it was a nostalgic memory he could muse about rather than a fragment of history.

“You seem to be well acquainted with this painting monsieur,” I replied. His eyes crinkled at the edges, and a deep chuckle rose from him again.

“More than you could ever know,” he cryptically joked. Despite the strangeness of it, I found myself politely laughing along with him. The gentleman gave a parting glance at the image, granted me a longer one, and with a resigned smile, bid me farewell, “Bon voyage, Mademoiselle.” His beige overcoat majestically flowed after him as he headed down a hallway, presumably to view the Mona Lisa next. When he left my sight, all good reason returned and I hastily checked the time. It’s been an hour and a half already? If I was to meet up with my aunt in another half-hour for brunch at the hotel, I needed to at least see the Mona Lisa as well. Believing that the cryptic gentleman knew the quickest way there, (and perhaps wanting to see him again) I naturally followed where he went.

A dark oak door with intricate carvings was at the end of the corridor, presumably where the gentleman would have entered. And though it was unlikely that a closed door would mean that another exhibit would be beyond it, or that a visitor should even come upon it, a nagging instinct in me compelled me to step towards it nonetheless. I peeked in between the cracks of the door and it was only broken clocks, dusty vases, and concealed paintings that furnished the hallway beyond it. A whiff of time forgotten. Perhaps this was a hidden treasure that the Louvre set aside for visitors with more arcane tastes. My hand on the door handles, I opened it, and unlike what its wood suggested, it gave way almost too easily. The hallway itself was smaller than I’d observed, barely wide enough to fit two people inside. Unlike the rest of the Musée, none of the artefacts had labels or descriptions, likely being a storage area. And yet, the nagging feeling told me to explore further before I should turn around. I’m already in too deep to back out now. A sense of unease did settle upon me when I realized that the deeper into this hallway I ventured into, the narrower and darker it became. Soon, the comforting drawls of the tourists from behind were much more desirable than the dank atmosphere of this tunnel. The reward for this reckless curiosity was a light at the end of this tunnel, and I ran towards it only to escape the constricting air of this place. I ran, but even without that, a force was already pulling me towards the light. Much too late, I fought against the confines of this invisible force, but it seemed that even gravity was against me in this battle. With every struggle, the light seemed to grow wider until it flared angrily and enveloped me. I shut my eyes as tightly as I could but the brightness overrode all my senses and imprinted itself into my mind. I let out a final desperate gasp before my consciousness gave out.

A more merciful light invaded my senses next, this time coming from old-fashioned chandeliers hanging from a white ceiling. A hallway with mahogany wood and a red carpet spread out in front of me, dark oak doors with the same intricate carvings as before spanned the right wall, and tall four-rowed windows sported the opposite wall. I brushed aside the mahogany curtain beside me and looked at what I was leaning on. The same dark oak door I had entered was behind me, so naturally, this had to be another hallway in the Louvre, right? The style was completely different as if this exhibit was in an entirely different time than the rest of the Musée, and frankly, looked more like a private mansion than a museum exhibit. I whipped over towards the window as a sudden sense of alarm hit me. It’s night… A splatter of gleaming stars spread across the canvas of the raven sky, the crescent moon seemingly mocking me with its smile.

“It can’t be,” I muttered in disbelief. I may have been distracted by the gentleman, but there was absolutely no way that a whole day had passed. The last pitiful source of rationality left inside nagged at me to find a way out, but a gnawing fear prevented my body from moving.

“... What are you doing there?”

“Who’s there?” I yelled in a panic. I whirled around, only to be met by a tall, imposing man with dark hair and silver tips. He sounded clearly French but carried a deeper accent, almost Italian. His features were remarkably alluring but darkly prominent, the sort where you notice its charms in a more intimate distance. Despite his intimidating aura, there wasn’t anything too frightening about him. But the way he’s dressed is certainly… interesting. Maybe it’s some sort of costume for a play the museum is holding? The man wore a dark soldier’s suit but dressed down with an unbuttoned front, an untucked button-up shirt, and a ruffled collar. Sheepishly, I decided to ask for his help, “Pardon. I’m trying to get back to the musée, can you help me open this door?”

“What’s that? ‘Get back?’ You’re not telling me you came from that door?” Though baffled, his voice softened its initial cautious edge.

“I’m sorry, I know I may be trespassing but I got lost and saw light through this door,” I apologized, grasping at the last bouts of my sanity through this conversation. The mystery of the time aside, if I can get back that’s all that matters. Despite the confusion of the situation, a softer expression melted the man’s face. I was grateful he didn’t seem to doubt my story but felt uneasy at how he looked at me curiously—as if he couldn’t believe his eyes that I was there.

“Just what are you?” he murmured in fascination. From down the hall, I could hear the clicking of Oxford shoes and heavy leather boots. Could that be the gentleman?

“Excuse m–” The dark-haired man clapped a hand over my mouth and wrapped me in his large arms. He tugged the two of us behind a curtain, with his back shielding me from view. What the hell is he doing?

“That blasted Count is certainly taking his time this visit.”

“You’re too harsh on him, my friend. Perhaps he was distracted by a little bird.”

“I suppose under that pretentious façade he’s still a man.”

Two deep voices with thick European accents gradually came closer from the end of the hallway. Rational me knew that asking for their assistance would benefit me, but the fear inside yelled that it would be the worst idea possible. Their conversation continued unintelligibly as panic continued to surge through me.

“... to my Broer,” the huskier voice huffed. This one had a distant Dutch accent, but his English was so localized it was almost difficult to discern. His footsteps quickly faded away and presumably left the other man. This one instead had a silkier character and a silver-tongued English accent.

“You call me a dog, but between the two of us, you’re the dog and your brother’s clearly the master.” The voice was scarily close, and by instinct, I stuck myself closer to him for safety. The thud of Oxford leather footsteps was in front of me now, and I held my breath in a pathetic attempt to hide myself. “I do believe I hear a little bird fluttering her wings where she should not be,” the man whistled wolfishly, “and this bird is quite adorable thinking that she could hide from me.” I trembled in his arms. But he held me gently. His jade eyes met mine. They were powerful. Earnest. The fear in me slowly subsided in his presence. I don’t know what’s going on, but I want to trust him. I nodded to show that I would be quiet, and he uncovered my mouth. When the sound of his footsteps faded away, we stepped out from the curtain. He took my hand in his firm grip and quickly led me away.

“You need to escape before the others find you. It’s already bad that he knows you’re here, so we need to move quickly.” Escape? What kind of place is this that I need to escape from? “Don’t let go,” he reassured me as he squeezed my hand. As I watched his wide shoulders in front of me, the fear soon washed away. The rational side of my brain knew that I shouldn’t trust a man I just met, but so far, he’d done nothing but help me. And in this mysterious place, there didn’t seem like many choices anyway.

“By Jove, this is what you were hiding, Leon?” Azure eyes with a wolfish twinkle were the first things I noticed. This man was devilishly handsome, with a proud grin and a mole above his chin. His well-tailored navy suit had an unbuttoned collar, giving the otherwise sharp getup a more wolfish feel. He raked his eyes down my body and swiped his tongue across his lips. His gaze grew darker as my breath staggered. “You’re a lovely one,” he breathlessly sighed. I shivered in disgust. His eyes crinkled in amusement, not at all intimidated by my display of courage.

“Did the Count bring you back as a little treat for us?” he mused, slowly inching his face towards my neck. “Truly exquisite…”

My saviour clicked his tongue. We’re caught.

“From what I can deduce, you’re trying to help her escape,” he said, “Now why would you go and do that, Leon? I rather fancy her type, you know. She looks absolutely scrumptious.” He leaned forward and tried to get close, but “Leon” blocked me from his fascinated gaze. He blocked off our possible exit in the smoothest of fashions.

He caught my wary gaze. “Ah, maybe you fancy me too, judging by the way you’re looking me over.” He may look completely like a gentleman, but he’s a rotten flirt!

“It just had to be you,” “Leon” sighed in stark irritation.

“Why do you want to help her escape? Let’s invite her to the banquet. She deserves a warm welcome, don’t you think?” he interjected.

“That’s not up to me or you.”

“Don’t be so stodgy, old boy! I can’t think of anyone who’d complain about having a lovely girl at that drab table. It would really bring some colour to this mansion.” Mansion? There’s no mansion connected to the Louvre. What is he talking about?

“Messieurs.” A cool-toned voice interrupted. A man with a neutral expression entered the hallway. He was dressed in a grey butler’s garb, his posture immaculate and his steps measured. “It is time for supper. Everyone’s gathering in the dining room now if you please.” I peeked out from above “Leon’s” shoulder, and his steely grey eyes locked onto mine. “You too, Mademoiselle.”

Finding my voice, I croaked out, “There’s no need. I’m not planning on staying for supper. I was, uh, actually just trying to get back.”

“But the lord of the manor is eagerly awaiting your presence.” “The lord of the manor?” Is this really someone’s place?

“How does he know I’m here?”

“He can answer your questions at supper.” I’m really not getting any answers until then.

“Or will you refuse his gracious invitation after breaking into his house?”

“I…” I wanted to defend myself, but knew that there was really no excuse. It was my own curiosity that I couldn’t quell, and ultimately, my fault that I ended up here.

“Allow me to escort you.”

The butler led me down winding velvet-carpeted hallways. Memorizing the direction proved quite difficult with its identical doors, windows, and mahogany walls. A complicated mess of shame and lingering fear settled in my stomach, but voicing any concern seemed like it would end badly for me. Staying polite and pleasing to the master of the house may prevent an incoming lawsuit for trespassing, and I’d be a fool to go against his wishes. I studied my guide; his crisp suit and spotless white gloves gave him a sophisticated air, one almost too graceful for a mere butler. His earlier statements proved he was a “no-nonsense” and stern man, and I could tell the master sent him to ensure I would comply. As our makeshift party continued down the mansion’s halls, a piano's delicate, tinkling keys softly touched the air. The elegant melody grew louder as we neared a set of double doors.

“Sounds like Wolfie’s in a sprightly mood,” Arthur hummed. He leaned down towards me and whispered conspiratorially, “Very uncharacteristic of him, I’ll say.” The butler closed his eyes for a split second as if he was bracing for something terrible.

Then, he cautiously rapped three times on the door, “Pardon me. I know that you are there. Please come join us in the dining room.” The ethereal song cut short, and its pianist revealed himself.

“Go away.” The pianist carried a faint Austrian accent in a gruff voice, perturbed at the interruption. He was a beautiful man. His hair was the colour of starlight and softly fanned across his deep-sunken, lavender eyes. His delicate, doll-like face and graceful figure were the manifestation of his dreamy music. Unlike the other three, his suit seemed like it was from the Classical period, with a ruched tie and a feather in his breast pocket. Despite the elegant aura he exuded, he conversed with the butler in such a rudely familiar way.

“It is time for the banquet.”

“Why was everyone so loud?” His eyes narrowed as they zeroed in on me. “It’s her fault, isn’t it?” My fault? I just want to leave!

“It’s not like I planned to be here,” I muttered.

“Who cares? Why don’t you just go back then?” He sighed haughtily. “Unless you enjoy the idea of being everyone’s food,” he quietly said, slipping past me. …Food? He bent slightly away as if repulsed by the thought of making contact with me. “... As if the banquet wasn’t bad enough,” he murmured under his breath, loud enough so I could hear. His cold voice, a stark contrast to his music, hung beside the beautiful melodies in the air.

We descended a grand staircase, a marvel with its winding gold handrails, marble floors, and lush carpet spread on it. At the end of the steps was the gentleman in the museum, almost glowing with how perfectly he fit in this mansion.

“It’s poor manners to keep those who’ve arrived on time waiting.”

if you've made it this far, thank u once again! please leave a like/reblog/comment if you've enjoyed it <3

#cybird ikemen #ikemen series #ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikemen vampire napoleon #ikemen vampire mozart #ikemen vampire arthur #ikemen vampire x reader #ikevamp x reader

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imeternallylove · 11 months

Text

Moulin Rouge Sous le Ciel Bleu - S.Strange

Red Mill under the Blue Sky: the roaring '20s era

Pairing: Stephen Strange x Reader

Genre: angst and fluff, mostly bittersweet 💔✌️

Warning: forbidden love, sexual content

Word: approx 4k

main mastetlist | request | prompts

theme song (im very rec to listen while reading this)

A brilliant red mill stood out among the other buildings in the Jardin de Paris, at the foot of the hill in the Montmartre neighborhood, commanding attention with its vibrant color and unusual façade. Large metal letters spelled out the word Moulin Rouge over the entryway to the colorful venue. The Red Mill, because it was exactly what the building looked like. It certainly drew attention to itself, and Monsieur Strange had no doubt that this was the proprietors' goal. Moulin Rouge had grown infamous in Paris, and he had no doubt that it was also infamous throughout the rest of France.

The building's bright scarlet façade contrasted with the pristine blue of the sky above it, making it stand out even more on clear days like today. Stephen would not have imagined, looking at the red mill, that this was the edifice known as The Bastion of Pleasures in the city of love. It wasn't visually appealing, but it was a novelty, and the mill at the entryway was one of the reasons for the establishment's notoriety. That, and the female cabaret performers.

Stephen Vincent Strange, heir of an eastern trade enterprise and an expert in oriental goods, was known as "young Monsieur Strange." He had been sent to France by his father a year before starting university to acquire the French language, and now, years later, he was studying for a degree in Orientalism at the famed Sorbonne. He'd become a go-to man for Parisian socialites, advising them on real Chinese and silk textiles, among other things, all sourced from his family's import business.

But, underneath the elegant and wealthy heir, he had become enthralled by the revolution, a movement that began in the middle of the last century, a stride towards freedoms and liberties that he had never known in his own home of New York.

That's how he ended himself in the Moulin Rouge cabaret. Stephen adored it. The excitement of doing something that would be considered inappropriate in his own nation was exhilarating. He wished he was an artist or a poet some days. Of course, he was brilliant at both due to his considerable schooling, so it wasn't that he couldn't do either. Nonetheless, he wished that he could live off his riches and do whatever he pleased, composing poetry, creating watercolours on rice paper, and attending the cabaret.

Most crucially, in those crazy daydreams, he could freely love you.

You'd met when he came to consult with you about some costumes you were working on for a Moulin Rouge performance. The surroundings were supposed to be inspired by the Orient, interesting, exotic, and beautiful all at the same time, and you required assistance with the designs. Young Monsieur Strange had paid you a visit in your sewing chamber as an orientalist. He was impressed by the attention to detail you had placed into the costumes and was eager to help you in perfecting the ideas.

He was back in your workrooms a few weeks later, checking the finished product as well as the music hall stage set. Because your lodgings were close to the Moulin Rouge, he stopped by to see you and your fellow seamstresses on his way back. He had admired your outfits and had recommended you to the proprietors.

That's how you met and then kept meeting, each one ending with you smiling a little brighter, his smile getting cheekier and cheekier.

Stephen often assumed that falling in love with one of the dancers would be simple. Monsieur Strange, on the other hand, was not one to take the easy way out. He had been unimpressed by the dancers' charm, flirty manner, and womanly figure. He was an orientalist visiting Paris from his hometown, and he had no interest for the loud women of the cabaret, famous for their cancan.

Instead, he had chosen the difficult path. He fell for you.

It was an impossible love. Hopeless in more ways than one; not only had he fallen head over heels for you irrevocably and explicitly, but there was no future in which he could do so. Your love was ephemeral, not because the sensations vanished, but because you couldn't freely love each other in this world, neither in France nor anywhere else. It was a forbidden love.

Something forbidden.

It's a hopeless love.

You knew it wouldn't last, you wouldn’t; but nothing does, so you loved him the same way he loved you.

Stephen would never marry a mere seamstress. He was a class above you, and he was certain his father had already picked a merchant's daughter for him, one from New York, just like him, just like his father wanted.

Tonight, he could spend naked in your arms, snuggled in the warm sheets of his bed, listening to his heartbeat while his long fingers combed through your hair.

"The sky was falling," you said as his heat cock finally came out, weary, clogged, and squeezed all the air out of your lungs. The palm of his hand lingered warmly on your exposed breasts, like a boy's toy.

Your hair is wet, and so is his. You look at the mess on the bedsheet, it's like a war, so criminally. Unless, of course Stephen's sharp smile, the top of his chest breaths heavily, and the bottom is buried beneath his blanket, but you pull out it to cover yourself so you can glimpse his entire body again. "And I'm falling for you, amour."

It was a quiet night. He'd snuck you into one of his smaller homes, where no servants could spy on you two. You had a glass of dry red wine and a baguette with camembert and red grapes. It was a basic dish by his standards, but it was everything the two of you could have desired for dinner tonight.

You had been kept busy by the continual repairs of Moulin Rouge costumes, as well as other work sent to you by higher and middle-class women, in the heart of balmy summer, with the sun shining down in all its splendor, warming you up and making all proper ladies sweat under their garments. You made no complaint. It was good job, and there was always additional money, which you could never have enough of.

Stephen did all the whining for you, about how you didn't have time for him, about how he felt neglected, about how you were too gorgeous to spend the days in a workroom instead of on the garden outside, enjoying in the sun and definitely keeping him company.

Finally, your work was completed, and you decided to take the day off, and now, at the end of the day spent in his arms, you were falling asleep in his arms, his gentle breathing feeling like a summer breeze in your hair, and his golden skin was warm on yours. Because of your body heat and the warm night, you couldn't sleep beneath a blanket, so you slept on a light linen sheet.

"Mon plus cher amour," he said into the air, that’s the way he called; "my dearest love." And you had responded to his call through the thin veil of sleep, turning in his arms to face him, your lips brushing against his as he spoke, the delicate touch sending thrills down Stephen's spine.

"Mon cherrie?" You'd wondered, laying a sly kiss on his pouty lips.

"I cannot imagine living without you." He engaged, his eyes staring into yours with such affection that you wondered if a mortal man could be filled with so much love. Such deep feeling was surely destined for something more holy than you; for ladies whose beauty lived on in legend, a kind of beauty caught by poems, songs, and prayers. Not you, mortal, frail, and average.

"Don't say such things." You murmured softly, your tone echoing Stephen's love in his gaze. His breath caught, and you could feel his heart rattling against your chest, its steady beat matching the pace of your own. "They make me fall in love with you even more." Your lover grinned at your comments, his long fingers reaching to gently hold your hand before bringing it to his lips, kissing your knuckles delicately, his lips smooth like rosebuds, flushed a deep pink as blood flowed through him, red and strong. His aquatic eyes never left yours for a second.

Hopelessly, you loved him so badly, too.

The days passed without him, and eventually, after all work was finished, Stephen decided to take you to the premiere of the new cabaret show, the one you had spent months sewing costumes for, and now he would allow you the pleasure of seeing the fruit of your labors, and you had a feeling it would be sweet.

Tonight, he had taken you to the cabaret. The moulin rouge was full with patrons, their cacophonous banter before the show was like the beginning of a birdsong, someplace deep in the rainforest, their words, not always French, rang throughout the room like a flock of tropical songbirds, unorganized but cheerful. You sat at a table for two, he in a magnificent black suit, you in your best dress, your hair done up in a stylish style you had seen many of your clients wear. When you looked in the mirror before leaving the house, you couldn't believe the lady in the reflection was you. You wondered if he had always thought you were beautiful.

"You are lovely to look at. Never forget that, mon amour." He leaned in to whisper into your ears, the dim light shimmering golden against his skin, making the shape of his nose and the plushness of his lips even more refined, even more seductive. Your heart skipped a beat despite your will. As the dancers entered the stage, the flock fell silent, leaving only the melody of the orchestra. Stephen relaxed in his chair, entirely at ease, sipping champagne.

The show was spectacular, but no one expected less from the legendary Moulin Rouge. The dancers glided around the stage in perfect synchronicity. Even their most frantic routines were carried out with beauty and precision. others gowns were shorter than others, and others were more scandalous. You hadn't skimped on the feathers and sequins. Each costume was meticulously fitted, with every thread perfectly in place and every color carefully chosen.

"Something like this would never be tolerated where I come from." Stephen whispered in your ear. Even without looking at him, you could tell that his gaze was drawn to the dancers and his lips formed a sneer against your ears. You knew he wasn't talking about the cabaret. "I'm glad it's allowed here." When you didn't react, he whispered, and you felt a delightful chill down your spine.

"They look gorgeous." Instead, you stated that your gaze never leaves the stage. The dancers span, their skirts swirling with them, exposing more of their legs, and the audience couldn't stop gasping.

He questioned as he took another sip from his flute. "The dancers?"

"Pretty women look good in pretty clothing." When another round of cacophonous delight rippled through the audience, you responded with a nod, a smile on your lips.

"Are those your dresses?" Stephen smiled, his eyes twinkling as he examined the colorful outfits, feather plumes, and embroidery on the bodices and skirts.

“Oui.” You sipped your drink, allowing the buzz of alcohol to enhance your enjoyment of the evening. "What's the point of staring at me?" After a while, you said, the feeling of Stephen's deep ocean eyesight staring at you becoming uncomfortable as the night progressed, your second flute of champagne now standing empty in front of you.

"I can't stop myself. You are like the moon." He smiled, turning his head to look at you from a fresh perspective. "So attracting me." He spoke, and his hand moved across the table to grip yours, his long fingers weaving through yours.

You stayed like that till the end of the show.

When the night was done and he had draped your coat over your shoulders like a gentleman, a cheeky smile graced his lips, his eyes bright with mischief.

"We went to the pleasure palace, and yet my greatest pleasure was watching you." He told you, tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear, savoring the crimson that warmed your cheeks, both from the champagne and from him.

Another week passed, and you were again in his chambers, laying among the lovely covers, holding a book as Stephen dressed. He was dressed in a suit identical to the one he wore to Moulin Rouge, but he had changed the jacket to something more suited for dinner. You liked his straight brows and heavy lashes as you combed his hair back away from his face.

"How do you think I look?" He approached, tying his black bowtie in front of the mirror above his dresser.

Looking at his tiny figure over your book, you told him. "Handsome as always." You said that when he turned around and winked at him. "You will be fine, Monsieur Strange."

"Whatever you want to say, Mademoiselle." He smiled as he walked over to the bed and knelt down. His plush lips were on yours in an instant, and you melted into the kiss.

When he turned to slide into his jacket, he looked back at you, his eyes filled with concern. You could tell he was tense by the clench of his jaw and the strain in his shoulders.

"Enjoy yourself." You smiled at him, attempting to cheer him up. Whatever was on his thoughts was weighing heavily on him. Enough to make him wary of telling you about it. It was a rare occurrence.

"It's just another business meeting; I'm recommending teapot purchases." He muttered, presumably to himself, and you sprang from the bed, wrapping your arms around his torso and staring into his eyes. Their maritime blue reminded you of hot coffee and chocolate in the morning. "New York ceramics have grown in popularity among those who can afford to import them." He spoke, his arms wrapping over your shoulders. Stephen buried his face in your hair, and you gave him a minute of silence. He pressed you against him, and you listened to his heartbeat, sure and steady like him.

"Selling a lot of teapots, then, mon cherie." You told him, and he let you go with one more farewell kiss.

"Don't worry about missing me too much, mon plus cher amour." He called out as he walked out of the room, and you couldn't help but smile as you watched him go.

Sadly, you do.

The dinner was drab. The hosts were rich, as they always were, and they loved to gossip, as they always did. Normally, Stephen avoided the ladies' gossip, preferring to sit and drink whiskey with the males, but tonight he found himself in the center of it. Not because he was really interested, but because he was the topic of it.

Many guys stood around the room conversing, and some women avoided the host's wife, who was a nasty gossip who could run her mouth like no other. Unfortunately, Stephen was on his way to meet his business partner, Monsieur Holmes from England, when he overheard the conversation.

The guests sat on luxurious sofas, with a tiny wooden mahogany coffee table in the center, containing a lovely tea set, white porcelain with delicate lotus blossoms painted in red for adornment. Last summer, it was one of the models they carried. Surprisingly, it was not a high-end set.

"I heard he went to the cabaret with his mistress last week. I'm curious who she is." The harsh voice of one of the ladies pierced his eardrums. Stephen could tell she was one of your clientele based on her attire. In your shop window, a similar dress, however green rather than the caustic salmon color this woman was wearing, was shown. He could recognize your work from anywhere right now.

"There will be no high standing." Another woman interrupted him, and he wanted to stop listening. Morbid curiosity kept him quiet, listening to those women criticize you, his blood boiling under his skin.

"A Frenchwoman and a New Yorker. In public!" Stephen tried to stop himself from cursing after hearing the woman in salmon scream.

"How are you doing, ladies?" Instead, he put on a happy face and walked right into the women's chat, interrupting their gossip. "I heard you ordered two tea sets, Madame." He turned to gaze at an older woman sitting between the two who were chatting about you.

“Yes. My daughter is marrying into a good family, and I want to make sure she brings only the best to her new home." She had spoken, her nose turned almost comically high as she tried to gaze at him with contempt.

"I hope you will be pleased with the quality of our products." He had bowed lightly, a sickly-sweet smile lingering on his lips, as rage had no doubt poked through his eyes. When you glanced into his eyes, you stated you could tell he was upset. He would have spoken more, but Shrr had come to his rescue, his cheerful attitude brightening the mood of the women.

"Ah, Monsieur Strange, I was looking for you." He talked, his rich voice filled with joy as he tried to pull Stephen away.

He pushed him to the side and handed the shorter man a tumbler of scotch. Sherlock's massive body towered over him, hiding him from the gossips' gaze. His huge hand reached out and squeezed Stephen's shoulder in reassurance.

"Young men are young men regardless of where they come from." Do not listen to old rumor." Sherlock's powerful voice slowed to a mumble, and Stephen assumed his companion was growling rather than speaking.

"Thank you, Sherlock." He mumbled, gulping the scotch down, too frustrated to taste it. He found the burn of alcohol to be a pleasant distraction.

"Better to love one woman than to hate one woman." When his pal looked down on him, his teal eyes were soft.

Stephen asked shifting the conversation from one unpleasant issue to another. "Any news from my father?"

“None yet. I’m not sure he even knows about her.” Sherlock reassured him, a small smile playing on his lips. He sipped on his scotch.

"If he knew," Stephen said, his heart pounding wildly against his chest, making him dizzy, before Sherlock cut him off.

"You'd have been on a ship back by now, and that merchant's daughter would have been waiting for you at the docks." He finished for him, gulping down the rest of his scotch before proceeding to refill their glasses.Stephen received an increasing number of inquiries for imported pottery as the evening continued. Tea sets, plates, and bowls were among the items requested. By the end of the meal, his notebook was full of names and catalog numbers.

Stephen had removed his coat and unfastened his bowtie when he returned home. His white shirt had a few buttons undone, displaying his golden collarbone. He sat on his living room sofa, sipping more scotch from a crystal glass. When he arrived, you tossed the book and sat alongside him on the couch, your head resting on his shoulder. The fabric beneath you was velvet, far more expensive than you could possibly afford. You could see he had it built to order.

Stephen had remained silent other than greetings and a couple brief kisses. Despite the drink he consumed, the worry shown on his face had not subsided. From the corner of your eye, you noticed his jaw clenched and relaxed.

"Are you ready to tell me now?" You asked him, and he turned his chin towards you. His gaze was drawn to your lips first, then up into your eyes. He'd always assumed they were sapphires. Not because they were blue, but because they reminded him of the sea, deep and uncharted. They hid your heart, so they gleamed like valuable stones and reflected light like the tumultuous waters of the sea. Deep, so deep that he lost himself in them and found himself in them as well.

"I'm worried about my father." His heavenly voice broke, heavy with uncertainty, and he mumbled.

"We knew about your father from the start,” you told him as you pressed your palm against his cheek, allowing Stephen to sink into your contact and relish in how warm he felt against you. “We knew how this was going to end before it even started."

"What if I don't want this to come to an end?" He asked whether and you were the one to lose yourself in the depths of his irises this time.

You kissed him with your other hand on his cheek. Passionately and uninhibitedly. It didn't matter if the end was coming or if it was already here. You had feelings for him. You were hopelessly in love with him.

Stephen went violet when you touched him. He felt it seep into him when he pressed his lips to yours with bruising force, and again when you grabbed him in his bed, and again when you left purple marks over his collar bones, each one a visible stain on his body; something to remind him he was yours, something to remind you that you were his.

Days flew by in a blur of color. You awoke in his bed, went to work, and spent the evening at Moulin Rouge. Every night was spectacular; every night was the same. You had grown fond of Moulin Rouge. Stephen could sit by you in public and flaunt your devotion for him. In Montmartre, most people were preoccupied with the concept of liberty and freedom. You shared their hopes, that the world will be a better place to live one day. Both you and he fit in. It was simple to be at the Bastion of Pleasures.

After one of the shows, when you had finally returned home to recuperate, an unexpected guest appeared.

Sherlock had come in one evening, just as Stephen was falling asleep in your lap, your voice calming him. The British man had arrived with a letter. It was obvious that it was from Stephen's father. Because the characters were strange, you were illiterate and blissfully unaware of the contents.

"Not good." Stephen had risen from your lap and was pacing as he read over the letter. Sherlock had taken a seat near you, his form looming over you. You weren't bothered because you were used to being in his shadow, but the expressions on both men's faces made you nervous.

Sherlock told them. "He wants you to return by the end of the next year." His strong voice boomed through the room, and his loving brown eyes looked down at you, and then at Stephen, with such sadness that you couldn't tell who was more saddened by the news.

"I understand." Stephen paused his pacing and requested that one of his assistants bring them some cognac. "To one more year." When the vodka was poured into crystal glasses and delivered to the three of them, he toasted.

You raised your glass with a cheeky smile, toasting with him. Sherlock raised his glass reluctantly and witheredly, the amber liquid shimmering in the faint light, before taking a gulp.

You lay wrapped in Stephen's arms that night, a pleasant breeze blowing through the open window, drifting over your naked shoulders as you glanced up at your sweetheart.

"Let us leave. Just… Run away with me." Stephen mumbled, his eyes gleaming in the dim light of his room, more pensive than you had ever seen him.

"Is this? …New Americana proposal’s? Where’s my ring?" You commented, a broad smile on your face, as though pondering of the possibilities, soon, your shoulders jolted down. "Where shall we go?"

"Wherever my father won't find us." You pressed closer to him, further into the protection of his arms, as he aware you. “Italy?” You sought out, considering locations too far away for the Strange business to pursue you to.

“Britain? Erm-”

"French Indochina?" You kissed his forehead, with an awkward smile on your lips.

"I don't care… literally. Where we go; my heart goes to loving you everywhere." He spoke softly, and you knew he loved you now more than ever.

Stephen was ready to leave everything to be with you, where his father could not intervene, and you were ready to leave with him, you knew you would; for anything even your cabaret flora life here; for one condition… just be with him.

"Then let's go anywhere." You gave in, putting a kiss to his lips and whispering love words into his ears as he held you. He whispered them back, breathed love into you with his kisses, was firm and soothing alongside you, and despite the frost in the air, you were warm.

His lengthy fingers knead over yours, enveloping them. You know he staked his entire future on it. You are mindful of this. "Whether it's an ice-covered world or warfare, I'll be the one that burns it." Your lips curled together, his words so sincere, and his rich tone melt with every emotion you've ever beheld. "Like frost and flame; hot and cold both evaporated."

You draw stars on his chest, another one, another one… Attentively paying attention to his heartbeat. The galactic cosmos feels incredibly near whenever you're with him, your Monsieur Strange, yours.

"Trust me?"

"Always have."

Love was occasionally hopeless, but maybe this time, just this time, there was hope.

And this is hope that you want would be go on survived.

For everlasting.

a/t: how was it 🥹 idk why but the plot comes while i listen this so bitter, tortured but sweetener so it’s challenging me to write 1920’ era. Well… in fact, the forbidden love is my first time writing… so erm yk what i mean? just please give love to it bc Monsieur Strange is watching you 😂🥹🤭 the core of this story is foreign man who has love affair with the owner of cabaret and he bet everything on it to stay with his heart, so fucking romantic yeah? this side is so rare to see from Stephen x reader ff and that’s why, so sorry to bring him out of character again bc it’s not my first time actually HAHAHAHAHA xD well next story we will see new youtuber Stephen who open YouTube channel so bright the boredom of quarantine by corona, he’s doctor right? let’s go romantic comedy yahooooo

#multiverse of madness #doctor strange #stephen strange x reader #doctor strange x reader #stephen strange fanfiction #doctor strange fanfiction #doctor strange one shot #stephen strange one shot #marvel fanfiction #stephen strange #doctor strange imagine #doctor strange smut #stephen strange smut #dr strange smut #mcu x reader #doctor stephen strange #benedict cumberbatch #imeternallylove

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knifedancer · 7 months

Text

Falling in Autumn

The miraculous causes side effects. Marinette picks up the hibernation instincts of a bug: seasonal exhaustion, seeking warm and dark spots to burrow into… I think you know where this is going.

Hibernation trope, Felinette style. Gratuitous Fluff.

Originally posted on AO3.

Silly Thoughts

~~~~~~~

It was a rare frigid autumn where even the daylight hours felt cold regardless of the amount of sun peeking through the clouds. It was so chilly that Paris had already gotten an unseasonable snowfall that week! Not enough for snowball fights, but just enough to leave everything sporting a thin layer of white. Parisians were already bundling up in coats, scarves, and mittens to stay warm. One resident took this bundling to the extreme…

Marinette had known the miraculous, when worn for long periods of time, would rub off certain intrinsic effects on their holders. Tikki had first told her about it when Chat Noir started being able to purr and seek out pets on her balcony during his night-time visits to the bakery. The Ladybug kwami told her that the effects varied from holder to holder but one thing was always common among those that wielded bug-themed miraculous: winter dormancy.

At first the idea of going into a hibernation-like state seemed silly to the teenage bug-heroine. Then the first fall since attaining the magical earrings drew nigh. Marinette noticed that no amount of sleep seemed to leave her feeling rested, she was more affected by the cold, and she tended to try burrowing into dark but warm places unconsciously. Her superhero outfit changed to be slightly thicker and lined with a mysterious, unknown furry material to trap in body heat. Marinette likened it to fleece or velour, it acted like super strong thermals under her suit. Even then, Ladybug would find herself occasionally curling up against Chat’s side during particularly chilly night patrols out of desperation.

Fortunately for the Parisian heroes, it seemed Hawkmoth was also impacted by the insect miraculous effects. The period from Fall to Spring had proven to be a much quieter time for akumas. Tikki had explained that not only would the butterfly holder be impacted, but his living butterfly counterparts as well. The fluttering wings of a magic-powered butterfly were no more impervious to cold and turbulent weather than your common garden variety. If Hawkmoth was attempting to send out an akuma, they could be blown entirely off course by strong storm winds or slow to a mere crawl when the temperature dropped too low. This was a boon for the heroes and all of Paris. It meant an attack happened less frequently but the akumas were usually stronger than the rest of the year. The two heroes joked that it was probably because old Hawky was frustrated with the miraculous effects!

During the school days, Marinette would double or even triple up warm layers. There was even a box of handmade scarves and mittens packed away solely for this purpose. Then she would sleepily cuddle up next to Alya and partake of her warmth on their shared classroom bench. The two friends were always affectionate with each other, so it didn’t seem too odd to the casual observer. Doctors had excused the syndrome as some sort of odd thyroid or seasonal narcolepsy condition. However all tests came back normal and it did not appear to be harming her overall health nor development. Ultimately, she was advised to take extra vitamins and the Dupain-Chengs were to keep an eye on her condition in case things worsened.

Unfortunately, this year, Marinette had been moved to the back of the classroom and the friendship with Alya strained to the very limit due to Lila’s interference. There would be no friendly cuddles or shared warmth this year. The sleepy girl had made do so far by adding a ludicrous fourth layer – a second non-bulky removable jacket liner – and using disposable heating packs to keep her core temperature up. It had worked well since the end of September but, now that it was mid-November, it was getting harder to stay warm and awake in class. Even Tikki, who snoozed more like a real ladybug rather than the omnipotent personification of creation that she was, shivered in Marinette’s interior breast pocket.

‘If only Alya was still my seat mate, then I wouldn’t have to worry!’ Marinette thought sadly. She looked at her current seat mate from the corner of her eye and sighed. ‘He’d probably push me to the floor.’

Along with the seat reassignment, another drastic change had entered her school life in the form of Adrien’s cousin: Felix Graham de Vanily. The same uptight, monochrome fashioned, and grouchy boy that tried to kiss Ladybug and caused three akumas was now in her class. Marinette was suspicious of him at first, afraid he was working for Hawkmoth or looking to cause trouble. In a way, Felix was. He had joined back in August and immediately took the open seat next to her with that mocking smile of his. Within the first day, he had pushed her buttons until she snapped. Marinette won the battle that day but Felix left with a smile that seemed entirely too pleased. He had tried to needle her every day after that and, while she did not lose her temper as explosively as she had then, they wound up trading quips almost daily. Their constant bickering had eventually formed into an odd companionship and understanding. Not quite friends, not really enemies.

Unfortunately for Marinette, her stock of hand warmers had finally run out and they were on backorder. She had tried her mother’s favorite reusable heating pad but it cooled too quickly and the lavender scent enticed her to doze. As the day went on, the pigtailed girl noticeably drooped in her seat as she slowly succumbed to her hibernation instincts.

~~~

It was a typical Tuesday for Felix. He arrived at school early, spent an agreeable amount of time reading his newest novel, and avoided the idiots in class. All but one anyway, although she hardly counted. After their first argument and the subsequent trouncing he received, he had come to realize there was more to Dupain-Cheng than met the eye. He had tried to provoke her again but was pleasantly surprised that she was stronger than he expected and possessed a lightning quick wit. Felix came to the decision that she was an adequate enough individual to associate with while he was stuck in this hovel. He had learned she did not like liars; in turn she respected his personal aversion to being touched. Their developing camaraderie was cordial. They had paired up for almost every project and, although she was often tardy, the dark-haired girl had always completed her work in a timely manner.

He chanced a glance at his seat mate and noticed she seemed to be doing her best impression of a melting snowman in summer. Felix clicked his tongue softly as he returned his attention to the board, ‘Dupain-Cheng has been more lethargic these last few weeks. She’s hardly cognizant of any of our classes, yet somehow still manages to receive satisfactory scores. She must be the embodiment of luck itself to pull that off!’

He picked at a piece of lint off his black cashmere peacoat and straightened the lapel. It was warm but did not do enough to stop the icy gusts from traveling down his neck. Sadly, most of his winter wear was still stuck in London as this change in the weather was unanticipated and his mother was still shopping for an acceptable abode for them to live in. Felix spared his table mate another quick glance – today she was wearing a bright red coat and a knitted scarf the color of his favorite caramel hard candies. She always seemed to have a different colored set of scarves and mittens that complemented her outfit. They did not look to be from any fashion brand he had heard of and he knew she fancied herself a designer. If the items were handmade, they were of excellent quality. Perhaps he could commission a piece from her…

Felix was lost in thought, contemplating how he could broach the topic with the girl, when he felt a weight land against his shoulder. He jerked at the disturbance and turned to find Dupain-Cheng slouched against him. He frowned down at the slumbering girl before attempting to jostle her awake. When she did not move, he managed to lift his arm out from beneath her and grabbed both her shoulders in an effort to re-orientate her towards her side of the bench. Felix soon realized his mistake when Dupain-Cheng unconsciously dove into his side and slipped her arms around his midsection with a muffled hum.

He stiffened at the action and hissed quietly between his teeth, trying not to draw attention to his plight. Felix had always detested physical contact, so much so that he could barely withstand hugs from members of his own family. To have Dupain-Cheng, a mere acquaintance, touching him in such a way was disconcerting and confounding. However, being this close allowed him to more closely observe her unimpeded. She smelled faintly of lavender and honeysuckle. Her black hair seemed to shimmer blue when the light hit it just right, like a raven’s wing. Her lashes were long and fluttered like butterfly wings as she slept. Across her small nose and cheeks were a charming array of freckles that could only be seen at this close proximity. With his arms still slightly raised, he twisted a bit to examine how to disentangle her from his person. Unfortunately, due to this action, one of her hands accidentally slipped beneath his coat and found purchase on his knit sweater.

He froze as the sleeping girl seemed to temporarily come to life, wiggling herself under his coat and latching onto his waist. Within mere seconds, Felix had half of Dupain-Cheng draped across his lap and the other half tucked securely into his side. Dumbfounded, he looked down at the girl in disbelief. Was she seriously snuggled against him right now? Did she inherently trust him not to molest or pester her? He tried to unlatch her arms and hands from his person to no avail; her grip was tighter than leather pants in August. As he looked on, a small smile formed on her lips and she nuzzled closer with a contented sigh. ‘Well, at least one of us is comfortable,’ he huffed in resignation before settling his left arm over her slumbering form, having nowhere else to put it.

Felix looked around, noting that no one had noticed the sudden disappearance of his seat mate nor the struggle he had just gone through. As the class period wore on, the boy unconsciously began to relax into the warm embrace of the teen asleep in his lap. It was not until an hour had passed that Felix realized he had become accustomed to her presence and the intimate closeness of their bodies. He glanced down and watched the peaceful look on her face as she slept. With his free hand he tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear with a silent chuckle. ‘Seems I can handle being touched by you, not that you gave me much choice in the matter…,’ Felix mused to himself. He lifted the double-breasted lapel of his coat and settled the material over her with a fond smirk. ‘It’s a good thing I have a packed lunch today. I don’t think I’ll be moving any time soon.’

~~~ Time Skip to the End of School ~~~

Marinette was disturbed from her nap by a loud ringing noise, scrunching her face until it passed. She smiled and burrowed deeper into the warm, sandalwood scented pillow she had wrapped herself around. It was the softest, most comfortable pillow she had ever laid on. The pillow shook as it chuckled. ‘Wait…pillows don’t chuckle!’ Her eyes flew open and she jerked back slightly, her eyes slowly rising up a sweater covered chest until she met Felix’s amused face. “I see you’ve finally awoken, Miss Dupain-Cheng. I was starting to think I was going to have to bring you home with me.”

“Eep!” Marinette cried out as she jumped away. With the force of the movement, she overshot the bench entirely and was launched towards the aisle. She braced for a painful impact...that never came. Instead, she felt herself held up by a strong arm that was wrapped around her waist. She opened her eyes to find a set of shocked green mere centimeters away. Felix had lunged to grab her, planting one hand on the desk to steady them, giving the appearance that he had executed some sort of elaborate dip. They stared at each other in stunned silence for a moment before he finally pulled them both to their feet, clearing his throat as he let her go and looked away.

“I-I-I’m so, so sorry, Felix! I wasn’t aware of w-w-what I was d-doing!” Marinette stuttered, turning a rosy shade of pink as she attempted to hide in her fluffy scarf.

The boy in question was suppressing a blush with all his willpower. They had been in such a suggestive position mere moments ago when he caught her, luckily there were no students left in their classroom to witness it! Coupled with the unexpected feeling of loss he was experiencing when she abruptly retreated, he was entirely too flustered for his own comfort. He cleared his throat, “It’s quite alright, Miss Dupain-Cheng. You were unable to be woken and seemed quite comfortable. However, if you feel obligated to make amends to me…”

Felix allowed a pregnant pause to form as a devious smirk spread across his face. Marinette felt her stomach twist with trepidation – she knew that look meant trouble. ‘What could he possibly ask for?’ She thought wearily, her mind beginning to whirl with increasingly ridiculous predictions.

“…I find myself lacking in essential warm winter accessories,” he finally finished nonchalantly. The girl stared at him dumbfounded as her spiraling thoughts ground to a halt. It dawned on her that Felix was attempting to make a joke to break the awkward atmosphere between them, relying on their usual banter to do so. She choked on air and then burst into giggles. Felix felt a new warmth bloom in his chest at the sound. He had never made her laugh like that before!

“I think that can be arranged, monsieur,” she replied slyly. “I know an up-and-coming designer in high demand. But, for the great Felix Graham de Vanily, I’m sure she could make an exception.” They exited the classroom with smiles on their faces and a warmth in their hearts, no longer feeling the brisk breeze that whipped at their cheeks.

~~~

In the coming weeks, Felix began sporting new scarves, mittens, and even coats in charcoal grey, caramel brown, pine green, indigo blue, and garnet red – which was oddly his favorite. Their classmates seemed curious by his sudden change of color preference, mistaking it for an opportunity to befriend the derisive boy. Some questioned him, attempting to find out where he had bought such luxurious garments. He brushed them all off in his usual dismissive manner, deciding not to divulge any information.

Felix’s lip quirked upwards as he silently stroked the silver monogram on the tail of the scarf on his way to the classroom. The monogram itself was an ornate shield containing his initials but, integrated within the vines that clung to the edges of shape, were the letters ‘MDC’. His small smile reached his eyes as they met the friendly bluebell ones at the back of the room. A hidden message, a reminder of that one cold day that brought two souls closer together.

Perhaps, together, they might stave off more than just the cold weather.

#felinette #marivanily #marinette dupain cheng #felix graham de vanily #felix fathom #felix x marinette #drabble #fluff #miraculous ladybug #one shot #alternating pov #enemies to friends #hibernation #open ending #implied friends to lovers #pre-feelings

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vintage-retro-queen · 2 months

Text

Paris Reacts to Watch Us Work

Akuma Class

Another weekend, another week without any way to watch a new episode of Total Drama.

They all were at the park, sitting there, bored out of their minds. That was until they heard a crash far away behind them. They turned to see an akuma attack from Copycat happening.

Even though Alya was excited and wanted to get great material for her blog and get Ladybug's trust to have her endorse the blog again. But when she realized and remembered that her phone was still confiscated by her parents, her excitement and happiness both went down the drain.

That was until a lava red portal appeared, and there came out Ladybug, and now seeing her new look, it looked like she combined two miraculous, one which was obviously the Ladybug earrings and the black cat ring. And along with Ladybug, was an unfamiliar girl that is dressed in a very odd outfit. They then hear the unfamiliar girl talk aloud in a deep-strong British accent. "Oy! Are you talking about us?" "And who are you?" "Your worst bloody nightmare."

The girl then throws something at Copycat that wraps around the Copycat's waist and holds him tightly. "GET OVER HERE!" the girl yelled, pulling Copycat over to her. She then aimed her hands at Copycat, which froze him into ice. The class looked shocked, surprised, and amazed at the scene they were watching.

However, the whole class was not as shocked as Adrien was when he saw Ladybug using both hers and his miraculous at the same time. And if that wasn't shocking enough, she has a new, different heroine fighting along with her and not having him have his miraculous back and save the day with her and not with some stranger.

After returning everything to normal and Theo returns to a normal Parisian citizen, Ladybug, and the unfamiliar girl does a fist pound, saying something that the class couldn't hear. They tried to head over to Ladybug, but a lot of people beat them to the punch.

"Ladybug! Who is this with you?" "All you mates, can call me Anarchia." The unknown girl, Anarchia, said, introducing herself. "How did you meet Anarchia?" "She was there for me when I was on patrol." "An armed picket-pocketer was spotted, and I quickly caught 'im 'round the same time she showed up." "She was very useful for a lot of other things aside from akuma attacks." Adrien couldn't believe that Ladybug trusted a heroine who might not be from Paris without even telling him and ever getting his consent first. "Is it true that you stopped endorsing the Ladyblog?" "Sadly, yes. Only because of various reasons. One of them is one person claiming that she is my 'best friend', which is not true because I never have any time hanging out with civilians." Alya's eyes widened after hearing that. After hearing those words come out of Ladybug's mouth, it felt like her whole world started to fall apart. However, Alya was not as shocked as Adrien was when Ladybug exposed Lila's lies. 'I thought she was going to let that go. Why can't people see that it doesn't hurt anyone?" He thought. That was until they heard Anarchia talk, "Some cottonheads never understand what the real world works and never fact checks like they are supposed to." hearing that felt like a stab to the gut to both Adrien and Alya. "Not to mention, some bloody cottonheads always lose their minds over what wanker tells them what they want to hear. That, and they never got to wake up and smell the real scent of tea to face reality." A couple of eyes widened in shock hearing that. However, before they can say anything, Anarchia continued, "However, speaking of facing reality, I do recommend this brilliant site and app I have endorsed back in London. It is called Face Reality. Because I have heard they are having some of their best reporters start here in about the next week." Alya's eyes widened upon hearing that. Face Reality was one of the world-known news blog-media industries for children, teens, and young adults. Not to mention her competition for the title of Best Blog-Media in the news world. "Are you kidding me?!" she gawked in disbelief. They all tried to get to Ladybug to see what she was doing with a different heroine. But as soon as they got to the two, the sun was already setting, and Ladybug's earrings started beeping. "Well, I say it is time for us to leave. Good day." Anarchia said, grabbing some keys, pressing one button that summons a black motorcycle, automatically driving to her, and stopping and staying by her side. As Anarchia gets on, she drives off along with Ladybug, as she uses her yo-yo, saying a quick 'Bug out', and the two leave. "Ladybug, wait!"

Unfortunately, it was too late, and the two were gone.

When Monday came around once again, they all heard the rest of the students chattering about the new episode of Total Drama.

"I'm so happy for Marinette!"

"I know, she's now one of them. That's amazing!"

"Her mom and dad must be very proud of her right now."

"Yeah, and her diary box was such a blessing in disguise."

"Yeah, and thank goodness too. Who knows what would've happened if it didn't trap Heather's hand."

"And Harold's music playing was awesome. Sure beats you know who's."

"And the MetaBetas performing there? They were amazing."

"Yeah, especially their hoodies. They look so cool!"

"More like epic if you ask me."

"You should've seen Duncan's face when he saw Marinette onstage."

"Yeah, the guy looked like one of those guys who has his eyes on the girl of his dreams."

"Not to mention the drooling he was doing."

"Honestly, I think Trent would be a perfect match for her."

"Yeah, he snagged an extra muffin for her."

"And he sang a song all about her. And it was actually for her too! So romantic!"

The class groaned and whined about how it was unfair that they got to watch the new episode and they couldn't. Even Adrien thinks it is unfair. Not to mention that Ladybug has his miraculous and has a new partner siding with her. And if that wasn't bad enough, Ladybug exposed Lila in the worst possible way. He knows that when the time comes, he will have his miraculous back and try to make Ladybug see the light and ditch that wannabe partner, Anarchia.

Celebrities + Friends and Family

It was another special weekend for all of the celebrities, friends, and families in Paris, France.

They're all getting together at the hotel, getting ready to watch the new episode of Total Drama. As they were all getting together, they were not even unaware of a familiar blonde ponytail girl getting ready to watch the new episode herself.

Two weeks ago, she noticed a lot of people coming to the hotel very often. At first, both she and her father thought that the people needed a place to stay, but when Chloe started to hear that Marinette was sent to a camp in Muskoka against her will by their classmates, that was where she drew the line. She even gives Adrien a friendship suspension until he learns to grow up and face the real world after demanding the whole truth from him, which causes him to fess up everything to her and Sabrina. Sabrina couldn't even believe it herself after hearing the whole truth from Adrien. And since Chloe was still mad at Adrien for letting Lila get off scot-free without any consequences, she decided to give Sabrina a break from everything and deal with things her way. Sabrina was surprised since this was the first time she saw this new side of Chloe, but Sabrina knew that it was only because of Lila's tactics she took it. However, Sabrina was still surprised about this new side of Chloe. Chloe told her father everything, and he couldn't believe it himself. As a result, he sent out the board of governors and education to investigate College Francois Dupont and sent the students of the school to another school that has the highest security and staff members that will have students full-on under surveillance until then. The mayor and Chloe herself were surprised to know that they were not the only ones who had called the board since a bunch of other concerned students and families were aware of it all as well. And since Sabrina once told the mayor about most of their classmates talking down about some people and some things both in person and online via social media, he not only sent temporary transfer notices to the families, he also sent another notice to all the families about checking on their kids and their electronic devices to see if they're doing anything bad without any of them knowing. 'I can't believe I'm going to say this, but Dupain-Cheng definitely deserves better than all of this. Besides, nobody messes with Dupain-Cheng's life but me! What those losers did was ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous!' she thought to herself with a huff while changing channels to the one that shows Total Drama.

Meanwhile, with everyone else, as they are getting ready to watch the new episode, Luka is talking to Zoe, Mirelle, Aurore, Kagami, Marc, Soqueline, Jessica, Aeon, and Fei about their call with Marinette and her friends in Muskoka. They all talked about how amazing Marinette was doing there and how the campers there were really good friends for her. All except Heather since they now know her true colors. However, they were glad that Lucy was officially the one to put Heather in her place, even if it was with her anger getting the best of her. After their talk, the show finally starts.

"Last time on Total Drama Island, the Killer Bass finally dodged their pathetic losing streak against the Screaming Gophers. There were bruises, tears, risky moves, and dangerous alliances. And in the end, it was Noah, the Know-it-All, who didn't see it coming." "Well, I can understand that he's not a sports person, but he could've shown some spirit or something at least." one of the fame-rising football (soccer) players said, shrugging their shoulders. "Well, everyone has their own opinion and choice of things." another one said. "This week, another challenge will send one more camper on a cruise to Loserville, population...four. Who will sink and who will stay afloat? Find out right now on Total Drama Island."

After watching its usual theme, they watched as they now see Lucy and Marinette on the steps of the Killer Bass cabin, reading, scribbling away on a sketchpad, and listening to music. "There she is! There's my favorite little lady!" Jagged cheered. They then hear someone speak on the radio. "Alright! That was Start Again by Alayah. This next one was from 1995. A love song for the late lucky girl and New Rustale's beloved sweetheart, Luci Grassette. This is Our Perfect Love by Perfection Division in 198.5 EPIC!" "Oh! I love that song!" "I hear it's good." "I haven't heard that in a long time." "Man, I miss hearing Perfection Division." a lot of the celebrities, parents, grandparents, and other adults explained, remembering the song and band. Hearing all of that from the adults got all of the children and teenagers now intrigued about the song and band. They then quiet down as the song starts on the show.

This one's for you, Miss Grassette!

Our love for you is like the most perfect,

Your face reminds us of your gorgeous self,

Together, we are like Vicki and J.D.

Oh darling Luci,

Our beautiful,

Our glamorous,

Our perfect companion to our longing-yearning souls.

Roses are red,

Violets are blue,

We love our perfect times,

But not as much as we love being with you!

Oh darling Luci,

Your eyes are like our favorite candy that will never fail, You're like the most beautiful princess to ever walk New Rustvale

Your loving pretty face,

Your breathtaking soul,

Your gorgeous eyes,

Your glamorous princess being...

How can we look at another when our perfect love is so strong?

We love you Miss Grassette!

"Man, it feels good to hear Perfection Division, their singing, and Our Perfect Love again." "I know, right? It's been years since I heard their songs." "Years? For me, it feels like centuries." "Luci was so lucky to have a song about her." "She was." "That was pretty catchy." "It was, wasn't it?" "I can see why our families love it." "Yeah." Socqueline smiles as they all complimented about the song and band she and her family listened to back at the family store.

"Alright! That was Perfection Division! Can you feel the love? Because I certainly can."

"Yeah, that was a great song," Marinette commented. "Yeah. That Luci girl must've been so lucky to be featured in a song like that." "Yeah...she was." all of the teenagers and children in the room then turn to notice their families and other adults' faces looking down and sad. Some with sad smiles and some with a single tear or two falling from their face and onto the floor. Before any of them ask what happened to Luci Grassette, they hear the guy on the radio talking still. However, the guy talked in a heartbroken, melancholy, and grieving tone. "You know, it's hard to believe that it's been twenty-something years since we lost all the five members of Perfection Division in a horrific hit and run." The teenagers and the children were shocked to hear that. "That's awful." one of the girls said, putting her hand to her heart in a heartbreaking way. "It was," Nadja said mournfully, holding her daughter Manon tightly. Manon felt sorry for the people losing a great boy band and a girl who was a respected member of the community and loved by all, even people from all over the world, along with her (Luci Grassette) older brother. After a moment of silence for the late girl and the late boy band, they all hear Chris McLean talking on the loudspeakers. "All right, campers, enough beauty sleep. Time to show us what you're made of." "Welp, time to get going, Nettie," Lucy said, getting up and closing her book with a 50s diner-themed bookmark in the pages she was in. Marinette nods and gets up from her spot as well. They all then watch as the scene changes from the girls getting up from the steps of the Killer Bass cabin to a stage. "Are we gonna see a musical? I love musicals. Especially, the ones with singing and dancing." Lindsay said, feeling excited. "Um, that's exactly what musicals are, Lindsay." "Marinette, saved you a seat." Trent said, making Marinette and Lucy walk to him and Gwen. "Oh, thank you, Trent," Marinette said happily. Marinette sat down next to him while Lucy sat down next to Gwen, and the two girls started having a conversation about their favorite horror films. The four of them were not even aware of Cody trying to impress the girls but ended up falling on his seat, yet still trying to look cool.

Chris then got everyone's attention and talked to them: "Welcome to our brand-new, deluxe, state-of-the-art outdoor amphitheater. Okay, this week's challenge is a summer camp favorite: a talent contest." "Yes! Awesome," said Owen. They all then see Lucy's eyes widen in surprise. They all looked confused about why she looked surprised until they then watched her confessional. "Well, that was unexpected. I haven't performed in a while since the last tour incident when the MetaBetas and I were performing in a small town. We were finished with our performance and when my friends and I were ready to head into the bus, some people were talking while we were walking. They were talking about, I don't know what, but frankly, I don't even want to know. At least, and as long as it doesn't involve me in any more dramatic situations than it did back in freshman year. But anyway, it sure has been a while performing. I honestly can't remember the last time I performed, really." "Huh, that is weird." "Yeah, I wonder what those people were talking about." "I guess we'll never know." "Yeah, but I do know that it's true that it sure is a while since Lucy and the other MetaBetas performed." "That's right. I think the last concert the girls did was last summer, I believe." Penny said, trying to remember when the last time the MetaBetas performed. After that, they continued watching the show.

"Each team has eight hours to pick their three most talented campers. These three will represent them in the show tonight. Sing, dance, juggle. Anything goes as long as it's legal." Chris explain, signing a 'Got my eyes on you' to Duncan, causing him to snap his fingers with a frown. "I wonder what Duncan was thinking about doing?" "I don't know. I just hope it's nothing bad." "Hope not." Chris continued, "You will be judged by our resident talent scout, former D.J., V.J., and rap legend, grand...Master Chef who will show his approval via the Chef-o-Meter. The team that loses will send one camper home tonight. Good luck." with that, Chris headed off the stage.

After that, they watched as Heather blew a whistle. "Okay, I'm the team captain, so here's how it's going to work," she said until Gwen cut her off. "Wait, who said you were team captain?" "She did. Just now," said Lindsay. "Lindsay, Beth, and I took a vote, and I won." "Threatening them to vote for you isn't exactly democratic." "I'm with the bambina on that," Lucy said, agreeing with Gwen. "You said it, girls." one of the celebrity girls said, crossing her arms. That was until they saw Trent walk over to Marinette, holding a muffin in his hand. "Hey, snagged you an extra muffin." "Oh, thank you," Marinette said. They all smile at that scene until Beth then walks over to them, talking to Marinette and Lucy. "Hey, Lucy, Marinette. Chris was hoping to talk to you about something. He's saying that there's an urgent call from someone." "Oh, jeez. It better not be about Slick and Brutus trying to get all the action figures in stores to find another legendary collectible again. I swear those two just won't knock it off." Lucy said, unamused, as she and Marinette headed over to the location Beth gave them. After they leave, Heather starts talking to Trent. "Trent, you're cool with me leading this project, aren't you?" "Right on. Go for it." Trent said with sarcasm. "Good. Beth, Lindsay, and I will be the judges."

After watching some of them do their special talents, the celebrities, families, and Marinette's friends suddenly heard a crash coming from outside; they all looked to see that it was another Akuma attack happening from none other than Copycat. Again. As they all watch as the akumatized person attacks the city, demanding Ladybug and Chat Noir's arrival and surrender, they notice a lava-red portal appearing. There, they see Ladybug come out of it. They looked surprised to see her come out of a portal that they had never seen before. Not to mention that she has a different look because, from the looks of it, they see that she is using both her miraculous and the black cat miraculous.

They understand that she's using both of them only because she announced once that Chat Noir is permanently retired due to various personal reasons. Of course, a lot of people respect that since someone shared video proof of Chat Noir being incompetent and not saving others in the past akuma attacks, such as the Syren debacle, the second Gigantitan incident where Gigantitan threw Ladybug's Lucky Charm at a room in the Dupain-Cheng bakery, which turned out to be Marinette's bedroom, and the last one where the akumatized person shot some bullets that stopped people and make them freeze like statues, unlike him, Ladybug saved some from getting shot and getting them into safety while he just did nothing but pout and sulk about Ladybug not accepting his love. Looking back, some felt disgusted about themselves for thinking that the two were a cute couple and they were an item. After all of that, Ladybug got the cat miraculous back from Chat Noir and has used it along with her miraculous ever since.

However, the only thing they don't understand is how the portal appeared and why Ladybug was using it. That was until they saw an unfamiliar girl walking out of the portal after Ladybug.

"Who is that?"

"I have never seen this one before?"

"Is she a new partner of Ladybug's?"

"I don't think she has a miraculous on her."

They then quiet down their chatter when they hear the new girl calling out aloud in a deep-toned, strong-British accent. "Oy! Are you talking about us?" "And who are you?" "Your worst bloody nightmare."

The girl then throws something at Copycat that wraps around Copycat's waist and holds him tightly. "GET OVER HERE!" the girl yelled, pulling the Copycat over to her. She then aims her hands at Copycat, which froze him into ice.

Everyone looked shocked, surprised, and amazed at what they were seeing with their very eyes. "Whoa! Did you see that?!" "She stopped the akumatized villain easily and faster than ever!" "That's a new record right there!"

After Ladybug turned everything back to normal, all of the celebrity newscasts, media, and press quickly ran out of the hotel for a quick interview of Ladybug and her new partner. When they got to her, they asked the two a lot of questions. "Ladybug! Who is this with you?" "All you mates, can call me Anarchia." The unknown girl, Anarchia, said, introducing herself to them all. "How did you meet Anarchia?" "She was there for me when I was on patrol." "An armed picket-pocketer was spotted, and I quickly caught 'im 'round the same time she showed up."

"She was very useful for a lot of other things aside from Akuma attacks." they were all very impressed with this new heroine, even when she seemed to be from another country, and whether it was an Akuma attack or not, Anarchia was very useful to stop it. "Is it true that you stopped endorsing the Ladyblog?" "Sadly, yes. Only because of various reasons. One of them is one person claiming that she is my 'best friend', which is not true because I never have any time hanging out with civilians." hearing that was very understandable. Knowing that Ladybug would never have time for anything else. Mr. Ramier and others who were having their troubles, maybe, but a civilian saying that they are best friends, which is not even true, and possibly putting a target on themselves without even knowing, that was another story that was a whole other bad level. Anarchia then tsks, saying, "Some cottonheads never understand what the real world works and never fact checks like they are supposed to." 'Ain't that the truth.' one of the news interns thought. "Not to mention, some bloody cottonheads always lose their minds over what wanker tells them what they want to hear. That, and they never got to wake up and smell the real scent of tea to face reality." 'You said it, Anarchia.' another one thought to himself. 'Tell it, girl.' the third one thought to herself. "However, speaking of facing reality, I do recommend this brilliant site and app I have endorsed back in London. It is called Face Reality. Because I have heard they are having some of their best reporters start here in about the next week." they were all intrigued with the recommendation Anarchia told them. They continued with the questioning with Ladybug and Anarchia until sunset, and Ladybug's earrings started beeping. "Well, I say it is time for us to leave. Good day." Anarchia said, grabbing some keys, pressing one button that summons a black motorcycle, automatically driving to her, and stopping and staying by her side. As Anarchia gets on, she drives off along with Ladybug, as she uses her yo-yo, saying a quick 'Bug out', and the two leave. The newscasts, media, and press also left, happy that they had an interview with Ladybug and her new partner Anarchia, not even aware of some people running and stopping behind them.

As they all head back into the room, satisfied with their interview with the two heroines, the show was still on. However, they missed almost half of the show. "What did we miss?" one of the intern reporters asked. "Not much, really. Although I think the Killer Bass are going to lose this one for sure." one of the wunderkind rappers said, crossing their arms. They then see that Trent is next. "This one goes out to someone special here at camp. Last name initials, D and C." everyone's eyes widened in surprise hearing that. Even though they can tell that most of the campers on the show are more focused on winning the challenge, the celebrities, families, and Marinette's friends know who Trent is talking about. Luka and Kagami could tell that Gwen knew about it as well after seeing her smile proudly at him while crossing her arms. After hearing the song, they were all amazed. They were so amazed that they even applauded Trent along with the other campers. They all then decided to take a quick snack break and continue watching the show later. As they snack down, they talk about Trent's song for Marinette.

"That song was amazing."

"Yeah, Trent did wonderful there."

"That was so sweet of him singing a song for Marinette."

"Marinette must be really lucky by now."

"Yeah, and I wonder what's taking her and Lucy so long though."

"I don't know. They're sure taking a while with that phone call."

"Maybe it is about those two Slick and Brutus guys and the action figures."

"Oh boy. I can't imagine what that phone call is like right about now."

"It's probably for the best we don't wanna know."

"Agreed."

After their opinion and the snack break, they continued watching the show.

"Welcome back! Okay, so in a strange turn of events, Bridgette's chunk-blowing test registered two thumbs up by Grandmaster Chef." "Bridgette's what blowing?" "I think it's best to leave that unquestionable." "But it's not enough to pull ahead of the Screaming Gophers who hold the lead with Trent's love song. So without further delay, here she is for the leaders...Heather." when Heather appears, she explains that she's going to read something. And then, reveals a box that is holding a book. Tom and Sabine's eyes widened when they realized what that book really was... "THAT'S MARINETTE'S DIARY!" they all gasped in shock and fear, worried that Heather might read something humiliating from Marinette's diary. However, as Heather places her hand on the diary, the box quickly closed in a milisecond, trapping her hand inside along with the said diary. And when it did, Heather started screaming. Even though they should wince from Heather's hand getting stuck, Gwen, the celebrities, families, and Marinette's friends all sigh in relief, knowing that Marinette's secrets are safe from Heather's scheming grasp. They all then watch Marinette's and Lucy's confessionals.

"Probably should've warned the girls that I have a box for my diary. But in this case, I'm glad I brought the box with me." "Glad you did, Marinette," Socqueline said, with Luka, Fei, Zoe, Kagami, and Tomoe nodding in agreement. "I guess one of them must've told her what happened while she and Lucy were having that phone call." one of the gaming celebrities guessed. "See, that's exactly why I don't bring a diary around me anymore. What Heather did, that's the reason." "I can't imagine what happened."

"Alright, it's down to the final act of the night," Chris announced. "Can Geoff and his rad stunts turn it around?...I seriously doubt it. Let's find out." "Why would he think that?" Just then, they see Geoff jump and break his skateboard. "Oh, that's why." "Now what? We have to send someone out there, or we're going to lose this." Bridgette said. They then watch as Marinette walks in. "There she is!" "Boy, that must've been a really long phone call." "Hey, guys." "Marinette! Thank goodness you're here. You and Lucy got to help us!" Bridgette said. "Katie and Sadie are covered in barf." "That only leaves Tyler, Duncan, or Harold. We already know Tyler stinks. What can Duncan do again?" "Carve a picture of his own skull into a tree?" "Oh, that's what Chris was talking about." a famous nature activist said, now understanding. "How the heck is going to do so in a stage when the trees are planted to the ground?" one of the wunderkinder questioned, looking not surprised. "What are we going to do?" Courtney asked, panicking. Geoff then noticed. "Wait, where's Marinette?" Bridgette and Courtney now noticed that he was right that Marinette wasn't there anymore. "Where did she go?" Just then, they all hear music playing. They watched Bridgette and Courtney look to see Harold start playing some music with his keyboard. The spotlights then shine on four girls, which turn out to be Marinette, Lucy, and the two girls of the MetaBetas, Angie and Malviña. Who are otherwise known as Miss Maleficent and Queen Red Hood. Everyone looked shocked and surprised to see them onstage. That was when the girls started singing.

Lucy: Never gets old no matter how much I'm told I'm amazing

Angie: You're amazing

Lucy: It's hard to get tired when I'm always on fire I'm blazing

Angie: Ooh, you're blazing

Malviña: All my greatness. It doesn't come for free. All my talent. It doesn't grow on trees. Take a breather. They'll take it all away.

Marinette: If the top is where you wanna stay

All Four: You gotta work hard. To make it look easy. You gotta live fast. To keep making that money. If you want to be as famous as me. You gotta work, gotta work, gotta work. Watch me work.

Everyone looked surprised and amazed, seeing Marinette perform with the MetaBetas, while the campers, too, looked surprised. Their singing and dancing were all in sync. They were even surprised with their outfits. They were wearing hoodies in their colors. Angie in purple, Malviña in black, Lucy in navy blue, and Marinette in pink. On the back of their hoodies have their logos in silver, and their stage names in rhinestones.

Angie: Haters want to be me or be with me yeah, they're fr-fr-fr-freaking

Lucy: Yeah, they're freaking

Angie: I just keep on working, lurking, smirking when they think that I'm peaking

Lucy: Never peaking, yeah

Malviña: All my greatness. It doesn't come for free. All my talent. It doesn't grow on trees. Take a breather. They'll take it all away.

Marinette: If the top is where you wanna stay

All four: You gotta work hard. To make it look easy. You gotta live fast. To keep making that money. If you want to be as famous as me. You gotta work, gotta work, gotta work. Watch me work.

After they ended their performance with a pose of their choice, there was a quick pause in the audience in front of them until the campers all started to cheer for their performance. Everyone else also cheered and applauded the five for their outstanding performance.

Chris then walks up to them, clapping. "Wicked music playing, dude. And MetaBetas, a very outstanding performance." "Hey, it's what we do." Malviña said, "And a perfect way to help endorse Total Drama." Angie added. "Especially with our newest member of the MetaBetas. Our very own Knitting Fairy." Lucy happily announced, wrapping an arm around Marinette. Marinette giggles as she waves to the others, causing them to cheer more about Marinette now being a new member of the idol group. Everyone cheered as well. "Alright, Marinette!" "Our little girl, a new member of an idol group!" "That's my Marinetta!" Marinette's friends cheered, feeling very happy for her. "And we would like to thank Harold for taking part in aiding our performance." Harold smiled and nodded to the girls as thanks and a way of saying 'happy to help.' "Congratulations, Marinette, for now being in their group. And check it out. Grandmaster Chef has declared his winner. Even though they held the lead, the Screaming Gophers have been trampled by the Killer Bass."

After a while of cheering, they all headed home for the night, still feeling happy for the girl for both winning the challenge for the team and being a new member of the MetaBetas. Meanwhile, in her bedroom, Chloe still watches the show, not surprised to know that Heather got some of the campers to vote off Justin. But she then watches Gwen's confessional. "If that evil little cow thinks she's getting away with this scot-free, she has another thing coming." Chloe then watches as Gwen knocks on the guys' side of the Killer Bass door. Harold answers, and Gwen asks him, "Did you say you brought a red ant farm with you?" "Yes." After that, while everyone was asleep, Heather ran out of the Screaming Gophers cabin, covered in red ants, screaming and trying to get them off of her. Chloe then laughs at Heather while she trips and falls. "Serves you right, Heather! Nobody messes with Dupain-Cheng but me!" she said.

??? & ???

The two of them watch as Lucy squints her eyes, trying to sleep while Heather is still screaming. "Man, I thought I was done with this when I was at that sleepover with Kit, Mills, Jade-Jade, and Sonya." she whisper-mumbled while putting her pillow over her head in order to drown the noise. "I can never forget the time she ranted on about what they did." one of them said, remembering the times she ranted. The second one nodded as they looked at the tablet that showed the account of Lucy and the rest of the MetaBetas. "At least we now know how to get in touch with her. Call the number. With this, we will finally get to her." "Of course."

Desc Prologue Get to Know My OC Chpt 1 Reactions Pt 1 Chpt 2 Reactions Pt 2 Chpt 3 Reactions Pt 3 Chpt 4 Chpt 5 Reactions Pt 5

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artzychic27 · 8 days

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Part 2 for this:

*Rouge’s ears perk up at the sound of a melodic organ echoing just outside of Palais Garnier. Whipping out her grappling hook, she shoots it and the hook attaches itself to the railing before she pulls herself up to a window. Peering through the glass, she finds MalevoLyricist, once again in a different outfit, sitting before a grand organ on a stage under a spotlight*

Rouge: What do we have here? *She opens the window ever so carefully as the melody reaches its climax*

*With a dramatic sweep of his cape, MalevoLyricist faces his invisible audience and bows*

MalevoLyricist: Thank you! Thank you! Oh, you’re too kind! With the satellite in my control, soon all the world will be singing my praise!… And of course, making me rich so I can buy my demon prince a promise ring. Just as long as-

*A long shadow suddenly falls over him. Rouge stands perfectly positioned in front of the full moon casting its light through the window, creating an intimidating silhouette that would make her mentor/father proud*

Rouge: That show’s gonna have a long intermission, MalevoLyricist. Twenty years to live.

*MalevoLyricist grits his teeth in anger. Why can’t they just leave him alone?!*

MalevoLyricist: Rouge! Always Rouge! Always driving villains BATS! *He slams his fingers down on the keys of an organ, and smoke whooshes out from the pipes in a dramatic display. Rouge’s vision becomes obstructed as the smoke takes over the grand room, and the villain escapes out of a door using his scooter that’s in the shape of two beamed eighth notes while doing a series of outfit changes*

She was just a sidekick,

Some girl wonder at HIS call!

Her utility belt holds everything,

Can't find that at the mall!

*As MalevoLyricist speeds through the streets of Paris, civilians hear his hypnotic singing and fall under his spell and try to apprehend Rouge while she’s gunning after him on her motorcycle*

Her motorcycle’s super fast,

There no vehicle that is surpassed!

It's a good thing we've got Arkham,

'Cause she really drives us bats!

*His singing projects all the way to L’asile d’Arkham, where the teenage villains immediately fall under his thrall and grip and shake the bars of their prison cells*

Villain Kids: Drives us bats!

Drives us bats!

He really drives us bats, bats, bats!

He drives us bats!

*The musical villain gracefully waves his way through and over the streets. When he rides off of a building and onto a telephone wire, Rouge leaps off of her motorcycle and grabs on to the back of his note scooter, only for it to split apart. They resume after him while riding on the other half*

MalevoLyricist: Whether dancing the Batusi,

Or using an array of tools,

She’s always got the answer!

She makes us look like fools!

*When Rouge attempts to lunge for him, MalevoLyricist surprises her once more by revealing that the half scooter also has a flying function, and he takes off toward the asylum*

MalevoLyricist: Has got no super powers,

She’s just a flying rat!

It's a good thing we've got Arkham,

Cause she really drives us bats!

*While the Parisians are keeping Rouge busy, MalevoLyricist makes his way to L’asile d’Arkham. The louder he sings, the more relentless the villains become, and they attack and disarm the guards with their powers and abilities. Adrien, displaying his gymnastics skills, easily dodges the guards and pushes one down the stairs. Rose summons an army of vines to restrain several of the guards while Max hacks into the security system to free any other inmates. Grown to twenty feet, Nathaniel gathers some guards in his hand and places them in one of the cells. Myléne spreads her fear gas, forcing many of the guards to thrash and writhe on the floor as they see their greatest fears in their heads*

Villain Kids: Drives Us Bats!

MalevoLyricist: Taught by the greatest detective!

Villain Kids: Drives Us Bats!

Ivan: Foiling every evil scheme!

Villains: She really drives us bats, bats, bats!

She drives us bats!

*After MalevoLyricist shoots the door with a blast from his conductor’s baton, the villains break out of the asylum. The heroes quickly arrive on the scene and try to stop them while still stuck singing*

Juleka: Even without shark repellent...

Kim: ...They’re tougher than they seem.

Aurore: Other heroes often ask.... *She fends off against Alix and Rose who try to snatch her earplugs*

Alix: Get her earplugs!

Gia: *Loading an arrow* ... Why is he always the top cat?

Everyone: She drives us bats, drives us bats, drives us bats!

@msweebyness @imsparky2002

#miraculous ladybug #miraculous #mlb au #Arkham au #dc comics #dc au #dc villains #dc heroes #akuma class #science kids #mlb ocs #Batman #batman the brave and the bold #SoundCloud

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samstclair · 11 months

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Nathan Fielder’s Frenchie

Nathan Fielder X Reader

Anonymous Request - "Hello Sam! Okay, so this might be a bit weird, but I think you're the one that can take this on. I have this fantasy of meeting Nathan in Paris, and we're just Parisian lovers. It is the city of love after all! Could you make that work? Thanks, keep everything up!"

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

They say that there are seven wonders of the world, though you don't know exactly who the "they" that said it were, or if Paris, France, is even one of those seven. But in the end it's still something definitely said, it's definitely something you would say...

Or perhaps, would have said.

Of all the things you would've never expected in this wee world, you truly didn't expect to want to leave Paris. Because it's literally Paris.

You've known since you were a wee child that it's a place you were destined to go to - from those shitty Michael's French-inspired decorations almost every girl in middle school had plastered all over her room, to those buttery hollow croissants, striped mime-ass outfits, and red lipstick-stained cigarettes - you always knew Paris was the place for you...

Or was it?

Your experience had been anything but exceptional. You thought you would ditch all your problems behind back home. Oh, how you wrong you were. No hate to the city, but nothing seemed to be going right, it was always one thing after another and another and another and another and another and another.

First of all, you had a layover flight that would stop in London and then Paris, booking it literally the night before. But you underestimated the power of those little pink Barbie Benadryl pills you popped in your little pink Barbie mouth just moments before.

"London, and then Paris," you remember muttering to yourself, smirking, "here I come."

Click. Click.

Flight. Secured.

You then remember falling soundly asleep, thankfully not getting a visit from the Hat Man. Those pills were put to work.

But your dumbass inebriated self actually got a flight to London, Ohio. And you didn't realize this until you landed in that godforsaken state, (shout out Ohio, no hate!).

So that's one. Next, when you finally got to Paris, you got to your empty apartment, which had been advertised online to be a wee bit bigger. Instead, you got the full French experience of living in a replica of Linguini's home from Ratatouille. But where was your rat? Let's be real - you had no friends and you definitely didn't want little rodents around. A girl all alone in Paris? Oh no.

You moved pretty impulsively, deciding to spend your student loans on the trip rather than going back to school, which you were inadvertently dropped from for not showing up for an entire semester. Oops your alarm didn't work, who cares. Last you heard, something or someone called the "IRS" was at your apartment door? You weren't sure what that was, at first you thought it stood for "It's Ronnie and Sam" and that Jersey Shore was initially at your doorstep, but it wasn't. In a way you were glad, Ronnie and Sam were NOT something needed to come back.

Anyway it was something about applying for scholarships that you were well not qualified for, that they wanted to see you for. Apparently you committed 'fraud' by opening a GoFundMe for your supposed 're-contractment of the Bubonic plague'? You weren't sure, it was a lot of adult words being thrown around, too much for your little brain to comprehend, and to be quite honest, it's all in the past now. Those $30,000 that you were able to raise was all yours now, and now out of your old country, there's nothing they can do about it now. If this was the medieval times, that GoFundMe could've saved billions of lives. Plus, fraud probably doesn't even exist in France. So if you look at it that way, where's all the harm in that?

After leaving your apartment to get some of that croissant, you felt a deep craving, an itch, for yogurt. You weren't sure what it was, there was nothing around you that had anything remotely to do with yogurt, but you just needed it. It was something needed. You felt your heart race at the thought, mouth watering and beads of sweat dripping down, forming a puddle at your feet.

"Mommy. Wants. Her. Oui. Yogurt." you thought.

But alas, for it being French yogurt, every store employee looked at you like it was Covid all over again and you just coughed in their face - horrified. None of them had it.

"What's a girl gotta do to get some Oui yogurt around here, God!" you screamed at the French man. You then stomped out, ground shaking, searched for a curb not littered with cigarettes, found one and sat.

You looked around, trying to take advantage of the ambience like one of those four hour long YouTube videos.

But you realized - this isn't Paris. This is just some recreation of Epcot's France. No smell of baguettes in the air, no mimes harassing you in their silence, no escargot sliding along the pavement, no women wearing berets - nothing.

You felt water well up in your eyes, your head falling between your knees in defeat. Nothing was going as you planned, and you'd only been here for less than two hours. What more could go wrong? You picked up an old, squashed cigarette beside you. You placed it between your lips, trying to envision yourself as the Parisian you always wanted to be...

"Se vu me plah gyasoh pwezi cha que son gee."

You jumped up at the voice behind you, accidentally throwing the cigarette to the street, hitting a bicyclist in the face and causing him to topple over.

It was a man who came to you. A French man. He just spat some French jargon at you and had no idea what the actual fuck he was telling you. He looked a bit concern, and you probably thought he was checking in to see if you were okay. You didn't know how to say no thank you, you're a stranger and this is stranger danger, so you said the only French you knew embarrassingly exceptionally well.

"C'est la vie," you mumbled, through wet boogers and wet tears.

You rose up, as if those words brought a new life into you, and left. He stood there, still worried, watching you walk away.

But you weren't walking for long.

It was late. A little too late. You couldn't read French time but it was dark so that meant it was late. You needed to get back soon, so you did what you knew best, next to those three little words in French: you ran.

You started running, the most you ever ran you just ran. The tears morphed into sweat and your limbs began to ache not long after a couple blocks. The wind rushed past your eyes and it was so cold it began to make your nose numb. Fuck this running shit - you needed a taxi.

You called and called, waved down and waved down, but no yellow car would stop.

"What's a girl gotta do to get a cab around here?" you screamed again, this time at a pigeon. He didn't respond. "What's a girl gotta do to be a mere femme fatale?!"

And just like that, as if the pigeon was a genie, one finally appeared.

A loud, deafening screech came from your right. You whipped your head over, giving yourself whiplash.

Screeeeeeeeeeech.

While making a sharp, extremely dangerous turn at the corner, a busted yellow taxi hauled ass over to you and pulled over to the side of the pavement right where you stood, blocking traffic.

"Oh my god yes, finally!" you exclaimed, running around back to the back seat and plopping your booty in. Once the door slammed behind you, you were off.

You felt your body slump deeper into the chair, succumbing to the comfort and warmth. Before you knew it, you nearly strangled yourself from the seatbelt forming something like a noose around your neck because you went down so low. You sprung back up.

"No way I'm dying in Paris", you thought. You wondered if Jay-Z and K*nye would write about who was in Paris then if that happened.

The driver pulled up to a less busy corner, put that baby in park, and looked back to face you, hand behind the passenger's seat headrest.

"Where we off to, pretty lady?" he asked.

You looked out the window, admiring the view. It was a trash can overfilled with trash, little Remys and Emiles scattering around. Though not traditionally visually appealing, there was something quite coquette Pinterest about it.

"Home." you said. "I'm going home."

You turned to face him after delivering that femme fatale line, but all the femme fatale dropped out of your system like the opposite of constipation when you're shitting - it's Nathan fucking Fielder.

"Oh my god, aren't you Nathan Fielder?"

His face dropped so fast it was inhuman. He whipped around back facing forward like a dog who got caught eating toilet paper.

"No," he said lowly. He cleared his throat. "Erm, no." he then said more confidently, with a strange accent attached. "No, I am, um, I am jus taxi drive, no field. I, um, I eatta the baguette."

His accent was a mixture of Borat, Jacques from Finding Nemo, and just an overall shitty (and maybe offensive) Italian impression put together.

"No way that's what a French sounds like talking English", you thought. But, not wanting to be rude and offend the man's impersonation skills, you stayed quiet. This isn't America's Got Talent, and you're not Randy or Simon.

"Why are you working in a taxi? Why are you in Paris?" you asked as he started driving. "Wait, is this Rehearsal? Am I on the Rehearsal? Is this the 'IRS' trying to do a rehearsal with me?" you asked, butterflies filling up in your stomach at the thought. You began scoping out the car for any cameras, but instead you looked slightly mentally deranged with a big frightening Joker smile on your face and your head clocking it in different directions.

"I sorry, I don know who dis, dis Natan Field is, no? Um, c'est la vie? I'm just happy to be in Pari!" he chuckled nervously. His driving became more erratic as well as his breathing.

"Oh my god that like rhymed you should be a poet." you complimented. Your mother always told you, honesty is the best policy. Except for his impersonations that was dog shit.

He began to slouch in his seat, an attempt for you not to identify him. Every time you looked over, he got lower and lower. You didn't want to say anything, you felt it best to mind your own business. It wasn't long until he eventually stopped and stood up straight as he almost got into several mini collisions because he couldn't see over the wheel.

"So how long have you been working in a taxi?"

"Look, I'm gonna be honest with you," he said, now speaking with a regular English accent, "I am Nathan Fielder. I'm sorry I lied, I just don't want people knowing who I am. That's why I moved to Pari, because French people aren't that funny so they wouldn't know me, you know what I'm saying?"

"Of course, Nathan," you said, "I understand. I understand completely. Did HBO fire you?"

He didn't reply for some time. That some time went on for about forty minutes.

"They did. But I don't want to talk about it."

You were nearly in your REM stage when he finally answered, forcing your eyes awake. You forgot what you asked, and didn't realize how far you ran from your apartment as you two were still driving.

"So do you know any fun facts?" you asked, attempting to keep the conversation flowing.

"I do, actually!" he said, an excited smile growing on his face. He seemed to be bottling this in for some time, waiting for a person to ask. "Did you know OJ Simpson was nicknamed 'Stinky' in prison?"

"No I didn't. Where are you from?"

"Vancouver. British Columbia." he answered.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry about the Queen. She was a queen," you said.

"Do you know this song? It's one of my favorites," Nathan asked, seemingly intentionally ignoring what you just said. He turned the radio up, and familiar whistles echoed through the car. It was Moves Like Jagger by Maroon 5. "I love this song, it just brings out a boogie in me that I've never experienced in my lifetime before."

"I actually don't like this song, can you shut it off?" you said. His excited face dropped, and he turned off the radio at your command.

Your eyes began to close again, but you couldn't help but feel another set of them on you. Something was watching, and it wasn't Nathan - he's watching the road, being a safe driver - no something was watching you. You crank your head over just a bit, still hurting from the whiplash from the screeeeeching. Your brain couldn't process what was in the seat beside you.

"Are those...." you gulped.

One was all white, had blue beady eyes, a yellow beak, and a long tail that went all the way down to the floor, cosplaying as the Pope.

Another was all black, had purple beady eyes, a yellow beak, piercings and a large pentagram necklace on its chest.

Another was modded out to look like a giant moth, like a final boss in some World of Warcraft shit, head too small for its torso that seemed to resemble the size of a medium-sized dog.

Another was covered and smothered in cold baked beans. It also had a yellow beak.

Another was also all black but eyes blood red, still with a yellow beak.

Another was molded into the body of a centipede, crawling all over the interior of the car.

And lastly, perhaps most disturbing, were two that had been sewed together to resemble conjoined twins.

You gulped again. Your body was in shock, immovable. You would've rather seen the Hat Man.

"Sweet furb collection." you were able to muster up.

"Ahh, yes, my customized furby collection! No ones noticed, you're the first!"

You weren't sure how that was possible. The only way of that being the case was if one of the customers he drove was blind.

"How have they not noticed? They take up the entire back row?" Before you knew it, you were pushing some extra furbies with your feet as they had taken up and overflowed the entire floor, pushing against you.

All their heads were facing you - their beady eyes making you the center of their attention, their world...

There was an uncanny valley vibe to them that made you want to incinerate them. It brought a sense of violence in you that you had never experienced before. They were unnatural and made you queasy.

"I don't know, they just don't. They've never complimented me. You know, they're hard to come by, especially the custom ones. During World War II, the Germans stole them, you know, it wasn't just those paintings they took, but they don't teach you that in history. They don't want you to know the truth,"

As he began rambling on about the seizing and burning of the historical documents on the Great Furby Siege of 1942, the staring contest between you and the modded out robots became intensified. Eventually, your ears started to ring. Those balls of sweat returned. Your hands got clammy and your chest started to hurt.

There was a presence to them, something that made them force your eyes onto them. They had the full authority of that back seat, and you were the next contender to challenge them. They dared you to keep staring, but you had no choice. Their magnetic forces and gravitational pulls towards their direction was too powerful. Your fight or flight mode was now on full activation.

"..And so that's how German officials actually got the baked beans one to be made, apparently they were a big fan of that cuisine, but weren't a big fan when they had to auction them off to pay reparations to all the countries they destroyed. Personally, I'm not a fan of baked beans, but I still needed to buy it. I mean, how could you not? Look at the little thing!"

Nathan turned over to you several times, looking for validation. But he hadn't realized that you were currently locked in a battle with the furbies.

Finally, from after what seemed like hours, Nathan pulled over to your apartment building. He fully turned to you, concerned like that French man.

"Hey, you don't look so good," he said. You didn't. You looked like you had just gone through a withdrawal.

Safe to say, you were able to break free from the chains of those furbies. You rubbed your eyes so hard you saw those little purple and pink stars. Your consciousness was regained.

"I'm sorry," you said. "They're just, they're just like, really strong."

He laughed anxiously. "Hey, do you mind if," he spoke lowly, "do you mind if I get some food from your apartment? I spent my last three hundred dollars on this furby from Russia, it's supposed to be RuPaul themed. I'm really hungry."

"Yeah sure, I actually didn't have any money on me to pay for the fare, so I guess me feeding you will call it even?"

"It's even." He smiled, extending his hand for you to shake. You wanted to, but your hands were too moist and clammy. You couldn't embarrass yourself in front of him by touching him with the state your hands were in. Gross.

"Um, uh, I don't know how to shake hands," you spat. "Anyway, let's go!"

You climbed out of the car and ran into your apartment. He did the same, sprinting.

You two finally got to your wee teeny apartment.

"Wow, this is pretty spacious," he said, looking around in awe.

"What do you mean, are you blind?" you asked.

"No, I can see pretty good. What do you have to eat?"

You started to realize that since you just moved, you literally didn't have anything in the fridge, instead hopeful for that crate of Oui yogurt. You checked anyway, as if a charcuterie board would just randomly appear.

You flung that door open and oh my god it's a charcuterie board.

"Perfect!" you thought. Nathan was gonna love you so much.

"Here, voila! That's French for a charcuterie board!"

You plopped it on the table, the only furniture you had. Nathan, without thought, started to rummage through, nibbling away at the cheeses and slices of ham and grapes and salami and olives and crackers. You watched, smiling to yourself all warm inside. Something about taking care and feeding him brought you such a sense of fulfillment, a sense of comfort.

"Is this what Gusteau felt like?" you thought. "Is this what Linguini felt like he when he literally triggered Anton Ego into a revelation he had back thirty years before into his childhood?"

As he made a little nibbling noise as he ate, holding the food with at the top of his little fingers, it resembled to you something of a mouse...

A mouse...

A little rodent...

A rat.

It hit you, hit you so hard you felt yourself light-headed and took a seat on the ground since there were no chairs in your empty apartment. You felt as if the furbies had casted their demonic spells onto you again.

Nathan was just that. He was your rat, your friend, your Remy.

He was that companion you needed, the little rodent in your life to live out the rest of it in Paris with. Something had finally gone right.

Nibble. Nibble.

He continued to eat, lost in his own world, half the charcuterie board empty.

Nibble. Nibble. Nibble.

You pondered deeper on the thought. If you didn't know this was Nathan Fielder and wasn't already comfortable with him, then getting into a taxi man's taxi and seeing an entourage of furbies would be pretty weird. But since it was Nathan, you weren't weirded out? Despite those customized furbies having a psychological grip on your subconscious and concept of what it was to be a human in control of themselves, they were separate from Nathan. He probably never experienced that from them. Or maybe he did? Maybe he's under their influence, that's why he spent his rent money on a Russian RuPaul? Because those furbies had altered his paradigm shifts. Those paradigms were shifting.

But, never mind that.

The point is, had that been any other person, you would've been alarmed at the niche and fear that commenting on it would result in you getting yourself on some girl's unsolved crime mukbang video on her YouTube channel. But you didn't fear that with Nathan, no, you had to let him embrace it. You had to be his safe space. And God so help you, you would be.

Nibble. Nibble.

"Oh my god, that was delicious, Y/N," Nathan burped, so loud and forceful the empty charcuterie board flew off the table.

"Wait, how'd you know my name was Y/N?" you asked.

"The furbies told me, silly," he laughed, lifting his shirt and rubbing his belly. "I'm so full, that was the best meal I've ever had!"

"I'm glad you liked it, Nathan. You're like my little Remy!"

"Thanks, Y/N! Can I live here?!"

"Of course, Nathan!" You jump up to hug him, he hugs tightly back, he then throws you on the hard floor and you feel his member pressed against your leg. He begins kissing you, his tongue licking your lips for entrance. You let him in. Your tongues fight for dominance but you let him win. He eventually starts going down on you, taking your "Paris, Je t'aime" shirt you got at the Ohio airport off, and starts kissing your labia.

"This...this is a labia" he says.

You lift your legs as he begins to eat you out, his wet breath on your cooter. He holds your foot up and raises himself, ready to press his member intro your entrance. Your eyes are closed, ready to take the boy from British Columbia in. This is it. No furbies, no IRS, no college, nothing - just you and Nathan.

Your new life was about to begin. You were now sure, Nathan was that seventh wonder of the world.

Hope you enjoyed! xoxo, ~Sam St. Clair

#nathan fielder #fanfiction #imagine #paris #parisfrance #france #xreader #nathanforyou #the rehersal #ratatouille #adult themes

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blackr23 · 2 months

Text

AHN JOOYOUNG

Stray Kids Felix x Louis Vuitton - Innocent charm that provokes

Felix from Stray Kids captivates with his multiple talents as a rapper, singer and dancer. She herself went to the Paris show and was inspired by Louis Vuitton's spring/summer women's collection.

BY HARPER'S BAZAAR JPRELEASE DATE: 02/2024/19

Stray Kids is an 8-member Korean boy group that continues to be active on the world stage and even went on a successful dome tour in Japan. Felix, a Korean-Australian member, has been a Louis Vuitton ambassador since last year. Regarding the shoot, in which she showed a variety of expressions each time she wore various looks, she said, "I was able to express a new self in front of the camera. I was able to express a new self in front of the camera." camera. I remembered the look and aura of the models, as well as how they dressed beautifully at the show." I wanted to match the feeling and photograph wearing the spring/summer collection with Zaho de Sagazan's music playing at the show. "I also wanted to show Nicola how great I looked," he says.

AHN JOOYOUNG

Vintage style codes are expressed in a sophisticated white sleeveless leather jacket. The harsh but soft elements echo Felix's innocent but strong humor. Jacket ¥918,500 (estimated price) Louis Vuitton

"When I saw photos of myself wearing clothes designed by Nicolas Ghesquière, I realized that I could express myself in this way. I was able to take wonderful photos of each outfit, so I love them all. To be honest, each one has a different personality and atmosphere , so it's difficult to choose just one outfit if you clearly like it. I think the appeal of Nicola's creations is that they are tough, but also express confidence. We are on stage. Many of the costumes and expressions that Wear are tough , but I feel like it has a different, cool vibe.”

AHN JOOYOUNG

Louis Vuitton's spring/summer collection combines the essence of Parisian fashion with vintage. The configuration accented with nostalgic jewel buttons invites you on a fashionable trip back in time. Jacket ¥898,700 (estimated price), Pants ¥356,400 (reference price), Shoes Reference product Louis Vuitton Recalling their first meeting, Félix says he felt a special connection with Nicola from the moment he met her.

"When I first met him at the after-party of a pre-fall show in Seoul, I was so happy when he said to me on the spot, 'I definitely want you to come to Isola Bella's next show.'" I always thought he was a cool person. nice, kind-hearted, big and wonderful, and from the moment we agreed to go to the show on the spot, we hit it off even though it was our first time. I look forward to seeing him again in the future. I definitely felt like there were a lot of opportunities

AHN JOOYOUNG

A knitted sweatshirt full of sports essence. A graphically updated initial branding makes a stylish statement on the chest. Top 486,200 yen (estimated price) Louis Vuitton That hunch of trust came true and they have built a mutually inspiring relationship.

"At the Spring/Summer 2024 show held last October, the looks on the runway were very cute and impressive. After the show ended, he was taking pictures with other celebrities and met me. As soon as our eyes met, He said, "Huh? Please come here quickly." I was touched by the way he called me so familiarly and made me realize that he cares about me, cares for me and takes care of me. We were taking pictures together and he said, "I'm happy to that you have come Let's keep wearing different clothes together. You are truly an inspiration to me." However, Nicola inspires me the most. I feel that I am confident wearing her clothes and I would like to express my gratitude to my fans for allowing me to show them my new look."

AHN JOOYOUNG

A fantastic all-in-one with a striped print and houndstooth ruffles, it is a symbol of this season, which has seen many soft materials and shapes. Felix's flexible way of dressing brings a new charm. Louis Vuitton all-in-one reference product Even when he steps off the stage and returns to his natural 23-year-old self, he says he still wears Louis Vuitton items.

"When I spend time casually, like when I go to dance practice, I like to wear a slightly thicker and more colorful parka in the winter. Lately, I like loose and baggy pants. Hop style fashion "Pairing it with a Louis Vuitton bag gives A very modern and modern look, and it is a fashion that suits the MZ generation. "I feel like I can complete my own natural style."

AHN JOOYOUNG

The presence of monograms attracts people in a timeless way. Arrange this iconic motif into a sleek top with a flowy silhouette to create a sleek new look. Add a fun monogram pattern to bucket-shaped bags and bulky sneakers. Both the top and the pants are reference products, bag ¥372,900 (reference price), belt ¥198,000, sneakers ¥204,600 (reference color) Louis Vuitton

Félix's translucent androgynous gaze that makes you feel even fragility, and his cavernous voice that makes the songs more addictive are essential accents for this group. There is no doubt that Stray Kids, who continue to increase STAY (fan name) with their rare self-production ability, will continue to make great strides around the world this year.

“Stray Kids would like to show our fans as many stages and performances as possible, as well as new looks, images, music, etc. Right now, we are preparing a lot, so we hope to have many STAYS. I would like to tell everyone that they are looking forward to it. Personally I have some goals. If it's something simple, I would like to continue making sweets that I started making again last November. Banana cake. It was the first time I tried it. , I gave it to many friends and they told me it was delicious, so I want to keep trying it. It was originally a hobby, but I'm looking forward to making delicious treats for the first time in a long time. "I want to send my warm heart to the people around me."

AHN JOOYOUNG

What would happen if Parisians took to the streets? A casual take on Parisian chic with jeans and a pop cap. A monogrammed shoulder bag is the perfect finishing touch to your street style. Top 468,600 yen, pants 225,500 yen (both expected prices), hat 81,400 yen, bag 621,500 yen Louis Vuitton

He says volunteer work is his goal, not only for this year, but for the future. In the past, Felix has provided regular support to the international aid organization Save the Children. As an idol with great influence, he is also known as a kind-hearted young man who focuses on charity works.

"I donated 100 million won to children in Laos, which is something I really wanted to do. I had many opportunities to do volunteer work in the past, but I was very busy. I didn't have much time. The first thing I could do was donate , but if I had time, I would like to volunteer and help children and people who really need help. I want to help people around me. I have received a lot of warm love from my fans, so I want to return that love. And "I want more people, not just those around me, to be loved and happy. Through volunteer work I hope to help those who need help and love."

Felix

He was born on September 15, 2000 in Australia. He made his debut as a member of Stray Kids in March 2018 with the mini album "I am NOT" and debuted in Japan in 2020. He will serve as an ambassador for Louis Vuitton starting in August 2023. Japan's first video work, “Stray Kids 2nd World Tour “MANIAC” ENCORE in JAPAN” is now on sale on Blu-ray.

Model: FELIX from STRAY KIDS Photos: AHN JOOYOUNG Styling: KWON HYEMI, SONG HYUNSOO Hair: TAK SEON A in LULU Makeup: KIM MOON HEE in LULU Production: LIKESTUDIO Text: MIKA HOSOYA

#lee felix yongbok #felix #lee yongbok #stray kids #louis vuitton #harspersbazaarkorea

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soapkaars · 2 months

Note

For the ask game: 31, 61, 62 and 98?

Asks come from this post: https://www.tumblr.com/soapkaars/742324378777403392/weird-asks-that-say-a-lot

31. what outfit do you wear to kick ass and take names?

I think I love this question now because I went through my selfies and I found so many fun outfits I’ve worn that I feel so much better about myself now! It’s hard to pick a favourite, but I think my favourite outfit range is between divorced Parisian femme and con-artist/disgraced nobility masc

61. favorite line you heard from a book/movie/tv show/etc.?

Oh there are so many great films I’ve seen that it’s hard to choose one but here are few that I often mutter to myself:

‘Impossible? Napoleon said that word isn’t French!’ (Dr Gogol, Mad Love)

‘Morirá!’ (He will die) ‘murió’ (he died) ‘ha muerto’ (he is dead) from a video art installation by two old Spanish artists who shown sitting on two plastic chairs and listing off all the celebrities who had died or who will die

‘Tell their mother they’re doing quite well and they will leave us soon, yes they will be going on a journey… how did Shakespeare say it? Ah yes, From which no man returns.’ (Abbott from The Man Who Knew too Much, said with a typical Peter Lorre shit-eating grin)

The whole cerulean sweater speech from The Devil wears Prada

62. seven characters you relate to?

Definitely Abbott from the Man Who Knew too Much, that man is goals… as well as David Suchet’s Hercule Poirot. I’ve even got the arrogance and grandiosity down pat! For the rest I relate too much to loser men like Marcello Mastroianni in Eight and a Half and Joel Cairo from the Maltese Falcon. Other characters would be terrible women like Miranda Priestly from the Devil Wears Prada, Cruella de Ville (she only wanted to fulfill her vision of a fur coat made from puppies!), and Helen Sharp from Death Becomes Her (played by Goldie Hawn!)

98. favorite historical era?

Oh definitely the Weimar era - I am in love with Dadaism and artists like George Grosz and Otto Dix from that period of time. It fascinates me to no end and almost all of the art movements from that time have been a huge influence on my own style of drawing and art. Other close contenders are late 17th century Netherlands (1672, the ‘disaster year’ when the country was invaded by the French and a prime minister was eaten up by an angry mob who were also part of a coup d’etat carried out by the Prince of Orange), the French Revolution, and the Cold War era, particularly from the 70s to the 80s with the rise of counterculture and the fall of the Berlin Wall which released an explosion of art, design, architecture (post modernism babeyyyy!!)… I have this fascination with periods of transition and I always love learning more and more about them!

#ask soap #ask game #weird asks #thanks for the ask!#soapbox #my weird interests

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madlixxxx · 2 years

Text

The Princess of Books

The request :

Five takes the reader out on a date and she loves books so he takes her to one of those massive, gorgeous libraries that looks straight out of a fairytale and its just this cute lil library date

I totally didn't just get this idea based off of Howl's Moving Castle theme. And it also got me thinking of dark academia theme with like…a color aesthetic of dark gold and burgundy/ruby

This is for you @seconds-not-decades ^^ ❤️

Advertisment : None, fluff

(Don’t use my aesthetic edit please !)

Five knew it very well, Y/N loves books and he too, it gave them a great point in common despite the many they already have. He thinks for a moment, he wanted to please her so much today, it doesn't look like that, but Five is a great romantic men ! After the Kugleblitz disaster, he had promised her that they would live together their retirement in Paris, he promised her the Eiffel Tower and Notre Dame. It was a dream for her and he kept his promises, they currently live together and happily in Paris. But what Y/N absolutely wanted was to visit one of these great Parisian and magical libraries and that's where Five comes in, he had a brilliant idea, to take his sweetheart to one of these magical libraries.

"Y/N are you ready ?”

"I'm coming soon !"

Five waited patiently for his sweet love at the front door as she got ready for their date. Five, hadn't really changed his style of clothing, his black suit suited him very well, but when he saw her coming down those stairs with that beautiful flowered dress, he was speechless, she was incredible, the boy's smile broke extended without him even realizing it. She remains in front of him motionless like a flowerpot, blushing then she turns on herself to still show him her outfit.

"What do you think about it ?"

"You are..."

Y/N used to read people's eyes but she never quite got around to figuring out Five Hargreeves. The young woman's smile begins to fade.

"It's too much, is it ?..."

"No ! You are breathtaking..."

He said dreamily before placing both hands on either side of her waist. Y/N regains her wonderful smile, she wraps her arms around Five's neck.

"I would never disrespect my princess"

"Haha of course, it's better for you... so where are we going tonight ?"

"Surprise"

He said simply before opening the door for her to let her out first.

~~~

"Keep Your Eyes Closed"

"Where are you taking me like this ?"

They both stop in front of a large building while Five gets behind her to hide the nice surprise he had reserved for her. He leans slightly into her ear and whispers to her :

"Are you ready ?..."

She didn't even dare to speak anymore so all she could do was nod and trust him. Suddenly, she could see the light of the moon shining in the evening as her boyfriend removed his hands from her eyes. The young woman took a long time to realize and she had such a hard time believing it that she suddenly began to hop and scream with joy as she jumped into Five's arms, who delicately, placed his hand on her lower back always with that little smirk as a sign of victory.

"You knew it !"

"But I always knew"

She kisses his cheek with so much love and then she rushes to the doors of the large library as Five follows right behind her with his hands in his pockets.

~~~

A long evening ensued in this large library, Five and his sweetheart had already made the three floors but they had both stopped at the shelves of romance novels... it made Y/N dream. Currently her head was resting on Five's shoulder as she read aloud, somewhat tiredly, one of the novels she had found in French. As she read, Five couldn't help but stare at her thinking that she was dazzling and her French accent was so pretty and sweet as she read. He quickly noticed that she was starting to fall asleep on his shoulder, he had the reflex to recover the book which was going to fall on the ground Five does not bother to put the book away, he carries his sleeping girlfriend in his arms, kissing her forehead.

"We're going home my princess..."

This evening was absolutely perfect for Five but especially for Y/N, Five could fulfill all her dreams without flinching, he would win the moon for her and Y/N knew it very well and that's why she loved him so much...

~~~

Five gently lays her down on their bed as she begins to open her eyes.

"It was amazing..."

"It's true"

He strokes her soft hair as she gazes at him in pleasant silence.

"Five ?..."

"Mmh ?..."

"I love you..."

"I love you too my lovely princess of books..."

He gently kisses her lips, closing her eyes as he did the same before they both fell into Morphee's arms...

~~~

#five hargreeves #umbrella acedmy #the umbrella academy #five hargreaves x reader #imagines #request #hargreeves

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hanaasbananas · 9 months

Text

Power to Play Chapter 2

A series of ficlets each based off a song from the McFly album Power to Play

AO3

Prev//Next

Land Of the Bees

“Thousands attended a vigil last night to–”

Click

“-relying on these so called superheroes has crippled our city and now we are seeing the conseq–”

Click

“hope for their safe return–”

Click

“-where are Ladybug and Chat Noir?”

Sighing frustratedly, Delphine switched off the TV and threw the remote across the sofa where it landed with a soft thunk. Ladybug and Chat Noir, Ladybug and Chat Noir. That was all anyone wanted to talk about these days and frankly, it was getting ridiculous. Nobody had seen them since that disastrous akuma fight atop the Arc de Triomphe when the heroes and the akuma had disappeared in a strange blaze of light, leaving the city in ruins behind them.

Months later and people were still speculating about what had happened that day. Numerous articles and think pieces had been written, even more late night programmes had dissected every inch of footage available and still no-one seemed ready to accept what Delphine had believed from the very first day.

Ladybug and Chat Noir were gone. Whether they were dead, or something else had happened, it was clear to her that they would never return. It had been too long, for one thing, and even after they’d gone, there had been no miraculous cure to set things right. That, more than anything, had cemented her belief as she’d watched the city begin to slowly rebuild itself in the days and weeks that had followed.

The only saving grace was that Hawkmoth had seemed to recognise what Delphine did and had mercy on the Parisians, holding back on the akumas once it became clear that the heroes would not be coming out to play.

That grace period had come to an abrupt end last week, however, and Delphine had once again become used to hearing screams of terror as people ran for their lives from an akuma.

I wonder what would happen if someone is actually killed by an akuma now , she wondered. With no heroes and no cure… Delphine shuddered, trying to shake off the thought. Though there had been plenty of casualties, there hadn’t been any deaths so far and she hoped it stayed that way.

Picking up her phone, Delphine checked the akuma alert app to see if anyone knew what it was doing yet. So far nobody knew what the akuma looked like, but there was a worrying amount of people posting about hearing loud buzzing sounds. Ew, Delphine grimaced. She was suddenly very glad that it was her day off.

No drama for me today, she decided. I’m just going to lie in bed and read a book. Maybe two! If I don’t fall asleep first…

Just as she began to rise from the sofa, a blinding flash of light erupted in the middle of the room, knocking her back down. The light seemed to blaze brighter for a moment, and Delphine squeezed her eyes shut against the glare, tamping down her curiosity as she heard a tussle break out between whoever it was that had somehow landed in her flat.

“Oi–stop that get–”

“Aargh! Let go of me—”

“Can you–don’t bite me! Oh for– Cataclysm!”

Delphine blinked. Chat Noir? No, it can’t be… she blinked again, then rubbed her eyes to get rid of the dark spots dancing across her vision.

“Wh–”

Chat Noir was in her living room. At least, she thought it was him. The man standing in the middle of the room with a disintegrating akuma butterfly clutched in his fist was not dressed in the distinctive skintight outfit for which he was known. Instead, he wore a buttoned up vest over a shirt that was tucked into a pair of smart high waisted trousers. Even his signature unruly blonde hair was combed back neatly. If it wasn’t for the mask covering half of his face–the only familiar thing about him– he looked as though he’d stepped right out of a history textbook.

As quietly as she could, Delphine pinched the inside of her elbow, wincing when it hurt. Yep, this is definitely happening. As she watched, dumbstruck, Chat Noir finally seemed to take in his surroundings, startling when he met her gaze.

“Oh! Uh..Hi!” he waggled his fingers at her in an awkward wave. He smiled sheepishly, gesturing to the unconscious akuma victim by his feet. “Sorry about that. There wasn’t a building here a hundred years ago so … I’ll get this guy out of your hair in just a second but uh..you haven’t seen Ladybug have you?”

“Seen Ladybug?” Delphine echoed, “nobody’s seen either of you in months!” her voice rose higher and higher with each word.

Chat Noir’s gaze sharpened. “Months?!” he exclaimed “wh–oh!” Slapping a hand to his forehead, Chat swore under his breath. “Fucking…time travel akuma.”

“Okay, okay…” he started pacing back and forth, seeming oblivious to Delphine’s eyes following his every move. “I’m gonna go ahead and assume that things are absolutely insane out there,” he jerked his thumb towards the window. At her nod, he sighed. “Great. Fantastic. This is just what we need. Ladybug, where are you?”

As if summoned by his words, there was another flash of light, followed by a pained grunt as Ladybug appeared in midair and fell to the ground with a pained grunt.

The change in Chat’s demeanour was instantaneous. Rushing to her side, he helped her to her feet, hands hovering by her waist as she regained her bearings. Heads bowed closely together, they murmured quietly to each other. Trying not to eavesdrop, Delphine only caught a few of their words–something about recharging , and months (presumably Chat filling her in on how long they’d been missing from Paris)– as she took the chance to note the changes to Ladybug’s costume.

She was dressed in a similarly old fashioned way to Chat Noir, her bright red outfit exchanged for a burgundy skirted blouse, belted at the waist where her yo-yo rested. Her trousers were buttoned at the knee just above the tops of her sturdy boots. Even her signature pigtails had been replaced, her pulled back in a soft chignon instead. Just like her partner, the only thing that remained unchanged was her mask.

After making sure that Ladybug was alright, Chat Noir stepped back with a grin. “Did you miss me, my lady?”

Ladybug rolled her eyes, but Delphine saw the smile tugging at her lips as she replied. “I saw you five minutes ago.”

“Really? It felt like one hundred and six years to me.”

“Well then…” Ladybug teased “we’ll have to make up for lost time later then, won’t we?”

Eyes wide, Delphine cleared her throat loudly. Struggling not to laugh when Ladybug actually squeaked at the interruption, her face turning as red as the mask on her face, she waved her phone at them. “Sorry to interrupt you guys but uh… there’s actually another akuma attack happening right now.”

Regaining her composure, Ladybug sighed, her shoulders drooping. “Of course there is.”

“It’s good to be back, huh?” Chat grumbled, dodging out of the way when Ladybug went to swat at his shoulder.

“Yes,” Ladybug said firmly. “We’re back where we belong. I for one, can’t wait to wear my own clothes again.”

“Ooh, good point.”

Ladybug ignored him, turning her attention to Delphine again. “Do you know anything about the akuma?”

“Not really…it might have something to do with bees? I think?”

“Great, thank you!” Ladybug smiled sincerely at Delphine, making her cheeks flush in response. “Sorry we were gone for so long, but don’t you worry, we’ll get all this fixed in no time!”

Delphine could only nod in response, watching as the heroes made their way to her open window, waving goodbye to her again before they leapt out to save the city once more.

#banana writes 🍌#ml fanfic #ladynoir #ladybug x chat noir #mlb #power to play

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