#prompt: tenderness | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mochegato · 3 months

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Thank You, But No

“Oh no! Oh no! Oh no!” Marinette uttered in a combination of mutters under her breath and exasperated groans. She was running late to meet Tim for dinner, which admittedly, wasn’t new or surprising, for either of them. It had become so common for one of them to be late, they had a punishment for it, whoever was late had to pay for the meal, or the next one if they missed the meal entirely. Which was fine for M. Co-CEO of a billion-dollar company, but she could NOT afford another dinner. Not even a Batburger dinner.

Not that Tim would force her to pay. He’d brush it off and pay with a smile, but she didn’t want him to have to because he was being generous, which of course he always was. He was the single most generous, thoughtful, considerate man she’d ever met, and she’d met Adrien, Luka, Nino, and her dad, so that was saying something. He was brilliant and funny and understanding. He was an absolutely amazing person and even better boyfriend.

Which isn’t to say they didn’t have issues… such as their propensity for getting wrapped up in whatever they were working on and being late for dates or missing them entirely, as mentioned previously. But they always made it up to each other and made sure the other knew how important they were. Or at least they tried. Maybe they weren’t as successful as Marinette had thought. That would explain why there was still an underlying feeling that something was off. It was tiny but niggling.

That feeling always stopped her from feeling too secure in their relationship and her actions. She wanted nothing more than to build a life with Tim, but that niggling was holding them back. They were just short of fully trusting each other. She knew why she was holding some things back. She wasn’t ready to tell a man she didn’t fully trust about the nineteen little gods and innumerable troublesome monks that came with being with her. But she couldn’t figure out what was holding him back if it wasn’t that her constantly being late made him doubt her commitment.

So she needed to get to the restaurant before him, but everything that afternoon seemed to be colluding against her. She’d narrowly avoided having to go to the warehouse or to a customer to handle random issues several times throughout the day, the issues seemingly getting increasingly significant as the day went on. She’d spent the entire day putting out fires and now was running late.

But! She was only a block from the restaurant. She could see the awning as she ran and although she was late, she was still earlier than Tim typically was, so there was a very good chance she would be able to beat him. She grinned as she picked up speed, weaving between people as she flew toward the crosswalk.

However, that is when Gotham struck. Just as she reached the street corner, a car exploded in front of her. Everyone immediately backed away and lowered themselves closer to the ground as they edged away from the explosion. Marinette, however, froze after crouching down rather than backing away.

She studied the scene taking in every detail, searching for anyone in need of immediate help and calculating where her help would most be needed. But nothing appeared to need attention. The explosion was controlled and concise. Only the car itself was damaged. She couldn’t even see any bodies, not even the driver.

She cautiously moved closer to the exploded car waiting for the rogue’s next move. But nothing happened. She stood warily and moved slowly toward the restaurant. In all likelihood, it would still operate as normal. The incident wasn’t large enough to garner Bat attention. The cops would appear eventually. Nothing that any Gothamite would take note of the next day, really.

She kept her movements tentative as she crossed the street. Something seemed off, something she couldn’t quite identify and it was disconcerting. It almost came as no surprise when she felt herself suddenly drifting off into a black void mid-step.

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Sensation flooded back to Marinette with a drawn-out groan. Her head was fuzzy. Her limbs were weighed down. She snuggled into the luxurious sheets wrapped around her. She loved these sheets. They were silky and soft and… she shot up into a seated position, eyes wide… and they were definitely not something she would be able to afford.

She instantly fell back onto the bed with a whimper, clutching her now throbbing head, and looked around through her fingers. It took a few seconds for the scene around her to register. She was in a grand room. Her entire apartment could fit in this one room. She eyed one of the paintings on the wall. Just that painting alone was worth more than everything in her apartment combined.

There was only one family she knew personally who could possibly have a room like this. She sat back up slowly to examine the room again. It had to be Wayne Manor… some hidden, supremely pretentious room in Wayne Manor. Oh no! Did she pass out and Tim found her and took her home to Wayne Manor! Instead of his own flat for some reason… Oh, this was a catastrophe. It was so embarrassing.

She collapsed back onto the bed with an embarrassed groan, her eyes clamped shut. There was a lot more gold than she had ever seen in Wayne Manor before. Why would he have taken her to Wayne Manor and this room? What was she supposed to get from this? There had to be a message in this bizarre behavior, right?

“Finally awake I see.” Marinette’s eyes shot open. That was not Tim’s voice. That wasn’t even a male voice, so it definitely wasn’t Alfred’s voice or one of Tim’s brothers either. She sat up warily, eyes darting around rapidly to find the source of the voice, which was considerably more difficult than it should have been in the cavernous room. She froze when she finally located it.

A tall, lithe, impeccably put together woman sitting in a shadowy corner leaned forward, but didn’t say anything, choosing instead to stand gracefully and observe Marinette impassively. After a few long seconds under her scrutiny, Marinette shifted uncomfortably in the bed, pulling the opulent sheets tighter around herself. Her gaze broke away, nervously taking in the room around them in greater detail, now knowing with certainty that they were not in Wayne Manor. “Where am I?”

The woman stalked closer to Marinette, her movements intimidating in their precision and control. “Somewhere far away from any heroes. Somewhere nobody can find without a guide. Somewhere not even your dear Detective would be able to find you.” Her voice was without the cruelty Marinette would have expected considering the content of her statement.

It was that contrast more than anything that made her register her words. “Who’s ‘my detective’? Do you mean Sabrina’s dad! He’s not a detective! He’s just an officer. And he can’t even find his badge half the time. Sabrina has to stop over and find it for him most mornings. Saying I’m somewhere he can’t find doesn’t narrow it down. It could be his guest room… except for the whole,” she motioned to the gilded room.

The woman studied Marinette with a complete lack of emotion on her face except for a single brow arching. The effect was like being completely transparent before her, which was a feeling Marinette was familiar with from that glass akuma. But this was worse. This felt more invasive, more revealing. “Interesting.”

“I’ve never had someone creepy say that to me and not have it mean something bad,” Marinette observed petulantly.

The woman’s lips seemed to strain to stay in their perfect pout. “You may want to keep your mouth closed if you value your tongue.” Despite the war on her lips, her voice was even and commanding, bordering on cold.

“You guys may have kidnapped the wrong person then,” Marinette grumbled.

“Oh no, no, I don’t believe we did,” she hummed, her eyes twinkled with something Marinette couldn’t identify.

The urge to reach up and feel for her earrings was overwhelming, but Marinette refused to give in. If they didn’t know who she was already, the movement would signal the truth. It was a clue Marinette was not willing to give. A blank façade fell across her face. “And I would recommend speaking clearly and sparsely when you are brought to the throne room,” the woman advised.

Marinette’s façade immediately dropped as her brows furrowed. “The what now?”

“My father is not known for looking kindly upon fools,” she continued as if Marinette hadn’t spoken.

Marinette blinked at her. “Did you just sa…”

“You will put those on,” the woman interrupted sharply and motioned toward the clothes laid out on the bed. “There are no cameras or microphones in here, so you don’t need to worry about that, if my word means anything to you.”

“It doesn’t,” Marinette answered instantly but did turn in the direction indicated, noticing the clothes for the first time. Even without touching them, she could tell they were extremely high quality both in the fabric and in production. It would easily be the nicest, most ornate outfit she had ever worn. It was truly an inspiration for her. However, it would also easily be the skimpiest thing she’d worn in public other than her bikini. It was so tight and skimpy, it looked like something a comic book artist designed for a female superhero. It was most definitely not what she wanted to wear when she was brought to face whoever was behind all this. “Thank you, but no. No, I would prefer not to.”

“You will put it on, or you will wear nothing,” the woman warned firmly, “which I’m sure my father will also enjoy, both the result and the process of stripping your current clothes from your body scrap by scrap.”

Marinette’s eyes widened with every word, absolutely confident in the honesty of her words. She looked back at the clothes that she would be wearing. “Right… I will… put those on.”

“Wise choice, you may yet survive the night,” the woman nodded and turned. “The dressers will be in soon.”

“I know how to…” Marinette ripped her eyes from the clothes to the woman, but she was already gone, “… dress myself,” she finished lamely to the empty room. She finally allowed herself to reach up to her ears with a groan at the lack of earrings. She was going to have to do this, whatever this ended up being, without her powers and then somehow search what she was positive was a ridiculously large complex for her earrings.

She let out a long, deep breath and started putting the clothes on by herself. “It’s not like I’m a designer or anything,” she grumbled. “Not like it’s my entire job to come up with an outfit, accessories, hair, and makeup. What would I know.”

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Okay, so maybe she didn’t know what was expected for this particular occasion, because just like the room, there was considerably more gold involved in her outfit, accessories, and even makeup than she would have ever used on her own. And in all honestly, she wasn’t sure she would have been able to get the hair accessories actually stay in their artfully styled placement, especially with all the sharp movements she kept making around the women helping style her and the guards escorting her to their destination, the throne room, if the woman was to be believed, which Marinette was inclined to do, about that fact at least.

As soon as she entered the room, pushed at the end of a few very sharp swords was actually a far better description, she had to fight her jaw dropping. She’d thought the last room was ostentatious, but this new room made the last room look like a cheap, roadside motel that hadn’t been updated since the 70’s. The room was covered in gold details and ornately carved, deeply stained woodwork. The ceiling was far above her like the grand entryway of Wayne Enterprises. Operas could be properly sung in this room. Centered against the back wall, a raised platform towered, demanding attention in its size and ostentatiousness.

A single chair sat at the apex with an ancient man seated, just as impeccably dressed as the woman earlier had been. A step down and behind the chair was a line of other chairs, a few fille empty. One of the seated figures was the woman she had seen earlier. As before, the woman gazed impassively upon her, like Marinette’s discomfort and fear was beneath her consideration. The two others in line only vaguely resembled one another, some not at all, but Marinette surmised they were all his children and the empty chairs for even more of his children.

She stopped at the bottom of the short staircase to what must have been considered the throne and waited to be acknowledged. The man, who had to be the father the woman had spoken of earlier, stared at her with a similarly intense gaze as his daughter, but significantly more sinister and creepier. She had to stop herself from fidgeting under it.

The longer it went on, the more uncomfortable it became until she had to say something. “Um… hi,” she offered uncertainly, adding to her discomfort with a small, awkward wave.

“Hello…” he responded. His voice was exactly what she had expected from his appearance, bold but empty and dripping with smarm. “… Guardian.”

Marinette lifted her head slowly, eyes wide in horror. “Oh no,” she gasped, barely louder than a breath.

“Welcome to my throne room,” he stated with no indication of warmth or welcome in his voice. “You, my dear, you have the immense honor of becoming my bride.”

Her eyes somehow managed to widen even further at his words despite her actions being sluggish, the world around her not quite registering as real. “Oh… no. No, no, no, no… no. No, thank you, no. No, no. Thank you but no. No, no, no, no…” she shook her head woodenly then looked back up at him and pursed her lips. “Noooo.”

“You will join me, and I will make you my queen.” The sinister glint in his eye and eerie curl to his lips suggested he believed this was an incredible honor. Marinette could not quite see what proof he had to back that up, but she suspected he was one of those men who based their personal value on delusion rather than evidence.

She was sure a statement like the one he had just uttered was supposed to be a request, but it was stated like a command. A statement of fact, like ‘the sky is blue’, ‘water is wet’, ‘this situation is messed up.’ “Que…Oh, no. No, I’m not really the royalty type. Queen? I wouldn’t be… I hate velvet!” she finally exclaimed. She stomped her foot and crossed her arms over her chest to accentuate her point.

His vile smile dropped, his lips instead forming into a hard, thin line. “I realize you may believe you are unworthy of me. Your ability to realize your inferior status is one of the reasons you will become a perfect wife.”

“Oh… no,” she muttered, shaking her head, her eyes unfocusing. “Adrien warned me something like this would happen if I moved to Gotham.”

“But I assure you,” he continued, completely oblivious that she had said anything, or that she was no longer listening, “you are not as far beneath me as you may believe, Guardian. With your given powers and my natural strength and intelligence, we will have many strong brilliant children.”

Marinette’s eyebrows disappeared under her bangs. “Oh… no. No, thank you. No. I think we should reevaluate that decision… maybe tweak it… just a bit. I can’t… I’m already dat...” She stopped short, offering a strained smile instead. It was a decidedly terrible idea to mention Tim to a madman.

What she wouldn’t give to have Tim there with her. She wanted nothing more than to be able to bury her face in his chest and have him wrap his strong arms around her. But at the same time, she couldn’t imagine anything worse. He was safe where he was, far away from what was happening to her. No, she didn’t want Tim with her. What she wanted was to get out of that room, find her earrings, and get back to Tim’s embrace and not leave it for a week.

She shook her head to try to concentrate back on where she was. “How about…” she forced air out of her lungs, “no. No, no, no. You have kids!” She motioned toward the seats behind him. “You already have MANY kids. You do not need me to have ‘many.’”

“I need better,” he bellowed.

Marinette gasped and straightened up to her full height, which granted, even if the man had been on the same level as her and standing, would not have been much against the towering man, but she refused to accept his statement unmatched. “Okay, rude. I think maybe they need a better father.”

“Silence!” he thundered. His voice echoed throughout the chamber with a ferocity and strength, she was surprised nobody except her flinched.

The woman from earlier almost imperceptibly shook her head, just enough to catch Marinette’s eye but not enough to catch anyone else’s. “Right. Silence. Shutting up, sir,” Marinette grumbled grudgingly.

“Start the ceremony,” he commanded.

In the blink of an eye, Marinette was shoved forward and up the stairs, tripping frequently on her skirt she hadn’t been given time to gather up, a skirt that managed to cover almost nothing of her legs but still drag under her feet, until she was next to the ancient man while another man in a significantly less ornate outfit was ushered into the room in front of them. “Wait, now?” she exclaimed, looking around frantically. She could not get married! Not like this. Not to him. It was supposed to be Tim. They were supposed to build their relationship, develop their trust, then get married.

No, this couldn’t happen. “Oh, no. No, this is all happening a bit f…” the word died in her throat when quicker than she could track, a dagger dug into her throat, hard enough for beads of blood to appear at the knife’s edge, but only that much. She wasn’t sure if the restraint was luck or because he didn’t want his ‘wife’ to bear visible scars, and she was not willing to find out. Especially considering he was able to do it without standing and she still had no clues where her earrings were.

The new man cleared his throat and looked between the two of them anxiously, his eyes begging Marinette for forgiveness she was too dazed to be able to give. He cleared his throat when she didn’t respond and continued anyway. “We are…”

“Skip to the important part,” the ancient man growled. Marinette tried to back away from him but the guards behind her must have anticipated the response as before she could move a millimeter, she could feel the points of their swords digging into her bare shoulder blades.

The man offered a strained smile. “Isn’t the entire ceremony the imp…” he froze as the dagger that had been at her neck, suddenly appeared at his, drawing rivulets of blood.

“Do you wish to continue your insolence?” her soon-to-be-husband hissed. He waited a few beats while he stared down the petrified man. “Do you?” he demanded louder. When the man shook his head sloppily, the dagger disappeared so quickly Marinette couldn’t say where it went.

The other man’s eyes darted between the two of them again, sweat mixing with the blood running down his neck and staining his collar. “Do you…”

“I do,” the ancient man barked impatiently.

“Right…” The other man nodded anxiously and turned to Marinette. “Do yo…”

She shook her head so rapidly the man in front of her blurred. “Oh… n…”

“She does,” her betrothed cut in loudly.

“Okay, yeah, I suppose that can… can count,” the other man stammered. He was slowly inching away from the couple, putting as much space between him and them as he could before he was able to sprint out of the room, and Marinette had never been more jealous of anyone in her life. “I now pronounce you husband and wife.”

“What?” she exclaimed. No. No, no, no, no. No. She could not be married. Not to this man. This was not the future she planned. Her heart sank as the man’s lips puckered and he pulled her closer against his body.

His predatory grin dropped when an explosion sounded nearby. “What,” he seethed. He glared at the wall closest to the explosion like it was solely responsible for the disruption and hissed when the sounds of fighting carried into the room. “Impossible!”

The sounds increased in volume until it was so loud, they could almost make out the words being screamed in the fight. It quickly became apparent the fight would breach the throne room in moments. The ancient man shoved Marinette away with such force, she sprawled on the floor and scrambled to keep from falling off the stage, but his eyes never left the door to check on her, not that she would have expected him to. He pulled out his sword from wherever he had secured it, she still wasn’t sure where that was, and wielded it in preparation.

“Father,” the woman from earlier said quietly but forcefully, “we must leave before he comes.”

“I am not afraid of him,” he hissed, his eyes still glaring at the door in anticipation.

“No,” she agreed, but Marinette could see the roll of her eyes behind her father’s back. “But a battle that need not be fought is a foolish one.”

He hissed and tucked his sword away as he whirled toward the back of the room, rushing with his daughter toward a hidden door, his other children already long gone. “How did he know?” His voice was lower than it had been since she met him, but still managed to carry through the room.

The woman pointedly ignored Marinette as she moved behind her father. “Likely a tracker. Did you check her for a tracker?”

“Of course I checked for a tracker!” he thundered and turned on her, attempting to stare her down.

The woman raised an eyebrow but refused to cower at his vitriol. “Then I suggest having your men do a better job next time.”

The man growled but moved through the door his daughter had been urging him toward with a final flourish of his cape. And just like that, he was gone and the room empty as his guards had all disappeared without a sound and through some mysterious, possibly magical means, because they certainly hadn’t gone through the door at the front of the room or the door the man and his daughter had disappeared through.

She searched the room for their escape route, hoping to follow their lead. Following that man and his family seemed like an absolutely terrible idea. The last thing she needed was him remembering she existed and trying to take her with him. Going out the front door would lead her straight into the fight, which without her earrings, seemed like a worse idea. But she needed to get to her earrings and she needed to get them now, before anyone else found them. And that was all assuming the man didn’t realize she was Ladybug as well as the guardian and take the earrings with him.

She started down the stairs swiftly, intensely inspecting every centimeter of the side wall as she moved. She had just caught a slight irregularity in the wall when the front door slammed open and several figures rushed in. She squawked and attempted to find a place to hide, but she had managed to position herself directly in front of the stairs when the door opened. She could not have selected a more exposed location in the room if she tried. Even if she’d been at the top of the stairs, she would have been closer to the back door and would have had the chance to get to it before they could get to her.

It took a full few seconds for her to register that the figures rushing toward her were not a threat. In fact, she recognized them. The Teen Titans were there. The Teen Titans had come to rescue her. She furrowed her brow. No, that couldn’t be right. There was no way they’d come just for her. There had to have been something else going on and she was just a collateral bonus.

Red Robin rushed ahead of the rest of the team, directly toward her. He reached her in mere moments and reached out for her like he was afraid she would disappear if he didn’t, but he stopped just short of touching her, his hands hovering over her body as though he would be able to sense any damage that way. “Marinette! Marinette, are you okay?” She blinked at him and nodded numbly. Maybe she was wrong. There was no way for them to know her name if she wasn’t the objective. “Are you sure?” he asked again.

She quirked her head to the side to consider his voice, his lips, his expression as he examined her. The way his brow furrowed just slightly and his lips pursed a touch, like he was afraid of showing too much emotion and giving away his hand. She wished she could see his eyes. She could almost picture the frantic darting of his panicked blue eyes hidden behind the white lenses of his mask.

Her eyes widened as her subconscious realization became fully conscious. “Oh my… Oh no. No, no, no. Really?” she exclaimed, taking a step back to get a better look at him and yep, there was definitely protective padding built into the suit, but she knew those arms, she’d spent a good half an hour tracing her fingers over the edges of those biceps, triceps, and deltoids just the night before.

“Mar… Mademoiselle?” he asked cautiously.

She closed her eyes and dropped her head back with a heavy sigh. “I’m never going to live this down.”

He raised an eyebrow at her response, but his eyes quickly zeroed in on her newly exposed neck, almost reaching toward her neck, but diverting his hand to run through the hair she’d brushed out of his face that morning. “Are you sure you’re okay, Mademoiselle?”

“Mademoiselle? Really?” She righted her head to look him in the eye, raising an incredulous eyebrow at him until his shoulders fell slightly and he smiled sheepishly.

He finally allowed himself to reach out and touch her, starting by tenderly tracing the skin around the cut on her neck, his touch so tender and cautious, she almost couldn’t feel it. She slowly stretched her neck to give him a better view without ever taking her eyes off his, waiting for him to satisfy his fears and assure himself of her safety, knowing he wouldn’t be able to move on until he had.

His eyes slowly moved from her neck to her clavicle, arms, stomach, and legs, his fingers trailing the path his eyes forged. His brow furrowed at the goosebumps that trailed his fingers. His eyes jumped up to meet hers, realization dawning. He quickly removed his cape and draped it over her shoulders. “It’s insulated,” he murmured. “I know how cold you get.”

He pulled the cape closed around her and ran his hands down her arms a few times, his eyes never leaving hers. He took a breath and slowly reached up to remove his mask. The look in his eyes took her breath away. There was such a depth to them, almost boundless with emotion, almost limitless with devotion. “How did you know?” he asked softly, close to a whisper.

Marinette cupped his face tenderly. She gently traced the skin around his eyes where his mask had sat. “I’d know you anywhere,” she answered in the same breathless tone.

He searched her eyes, hoping it conveyed all the relief he felt at finally having her in front of him. “I’d find you anywhere,” he whispered. Her eyes suddenly watered and she collapsed into his arms, body shaking as she cried and digging in deeper when he wound his arms around her.

“It’s okay. It’s okay. I’m here. You’re safe,” he repeated over and over in her ear like a mantra. He kept repeating it until her tears eased. He pulled back just far enough to meet her eyes. “I’m here and you’re safe. I’ll always rescue you. I’d tear the world apart to protect you.”

She was no longer crying but her eyes were red rimmed and broken. He suddenly felt overwhelmed again and pulled her to him to reassure himself she was still there. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry he took you,” he muttered into her hair.

She shook her head. She could feel his lips rub against her hair with each shake. “It’s okay. It’s not like it was your fault.”

He pulled away to meet her eyes again so he could convey how earnest he was. “It… Marinette it was,” he affirmed, regret and guilt bleeding from his voice. “He knows who I am and… has a bit of an obsession with me. He took you because of me.”

She met his eyes firmly. “He didn’t. It wasn’t about you. He thought I would produce good kids for him.”

Tim jerked his head back and wrinkled his nose at the thought. “Ew.”

“Right?” she exclaimed with a false lightness.

“But Marinette…” He groaned and removed a hand just so he could run it through his hair and immediately settle it back at her waist. “…you have to know, you came to his attention because of me. It really was my…”

“It wasn’t your fault,” she repeated more forcefully. “It wasn’t Tim. I can’t exp…” she let out a frustrated groan and met his eyes with renewed determination. “It wasn’t your fault. I need you to believe me even if I can’t say why. Not yet. Not here. But soon.”

He shook his head, his lips pursed unconvinced. But, instead of focusing who to blame, obviously him, he focused on her; her safety, her health, her emotions, her in his arms when he was terrified he might never see her alive again. His eyes traced her face, his fingers trailed after in a tender embrace until he slid them over to tuck her bangs behind her ear. “How are you? Really?” he whispered.

Marinette dropped her head onto his chest again and nuzzled into his arms, letting his warmth and security seep through her skin and into her bones. “It was horrible. I didn’t know when I would see you again.”

He tightened his arms around her as if it would protect her against that possibility. “I’ll always come for you,” he reassured, his voice just loud enough for her to hear… and Superboy, but that was irrelevant. “Are you hurt anywhere else? Was it just your neck?”

She shook her head against his chest, refusing to reduce any contact between them. “No, nowhere else.” She suddenly jerked back and looked up with wide eyes. “But he… we’re married.”

Tim blinked at her. “Wait, what?”

She shook her head blankly as her mind started running through the repercussions. “He… there was a ceremony,” she rushed out. Her words were coming out so quickly, they almost merged into a single word. “There was a ceremony and a holy person, I think, that didn’t want to but he did…”

“Did you say I do?” Tim cut in before she could spiral too deep.

She shook her head as she blinked, her mind still racing but on a different track now. It was all a bit cloudy, but her mind ran through all the events of the past hour as well as she could remember it. “I didn’t… it didn’t seem to be an important factor.”

“Then you’re not,” he assured her confidently.

“But…”

“She married?” he asked over her shoulder. Marinette whipped around but Tim kept her in his arms, pulling her closer when Marinette squeaked and tried to jump away from the figure behind her.

“No,” the woman from earlier confirmed. “Father skipped through that part. Don’t worry my dear. You’re not my stepmother. You are uncorrupted.”

“Uh…” Marinette tried to edge away from her, unsure how to respond. But Tim held her tight, which had to mean he didn’t think she was a threat; Marinette however still wasn’t convinced.

“And I’ll keep him away. I’ll convince him he is wrong about you… though we both know he’s not, don’t we? Speaking of, here are your things,” she handed Marinette a Hermès bag filled with her clothes, “all of your things,” she said pointedly. Marinette took the bag and looked in warily to find her clothes, but more importantly, her earrings at the very top.

“Thank you,” Marinette gushed, offering the woman a smile for the first time.

The woman nodded. “Keep the bag and the outfit. You’ve earned it.”

“Oh… no,” Marinette deferred and held the bag out away from her. “No, thank you.”

The woman scoffed. “The bag is mine, go ahead and keep that for yourself. No association with my father. Used Bruce’s money, actually, so no guilt.” Marinette was so overwhelmed by everything happening she almost didn’t register Tim’s snort at the woman’s comment. “Sell the gold from the accessories or donate it. I suspect that’s the kind of thing you would like. Father won’t notice.”

“Thank you, Talia,” Tim offered with a nod.

“You’re welcome, Tim,” the woman, Talia apparently, nodded back. “Keep her safe. She’s more valuable than you know.”

Tim looked down at Marinette, his gaze swimming in adoration. “I intend to.” When he looked back up the woman had disappeared again. “Should I be worried about that? About her interest in you?” he asked Marinette lowly.

“I am,” Marinette grumbled. “It’s probably the smart move.” She leaned her head back on his shoulder and let out a relieved sigh when he tightened his embrace and guided her out of the compound and toward their plane.

“She’s the one that told you where I was?” He nodded without looking at her, his eyes scanning the area to ensure all threats had been removed. His team seemed to have fallen into step behind them, keeping a bit of a distance to give them privacy, but Marinette could feel their eyes darting to her frequently. “She mentioned Bruce. You know each other well?”

He nodded. “A bit too well sometimes. Other times…” he kissed her temple letting his lips linger and pulling her closer when she melted into it, “other times I couldn’t be more thankful for her.”

Marinette cocked her head to the side with a hum. “She’s a bit creepy. Sexy!” she added quickly. “But creepy… which is usually a combination I hear about from booktok men, not real women.”

Tim snorted “Booktok, huh?”

“Zoé,” Marinette shrugged. “I know far more than I want to.”

“Ah, yeah, I can see that,” he snickered. He urged her on ahead of him up the plane’s rear ramp, following close behind her, making sure he had at least one hand on her at all times. He waited until she was at the top before speaking again. “She’s Damian’s mom.”

Marinette whirled on him instantly. “She’s what!”

“Yep,” he answered, popping the p.

“With Bruce?” she clarified.

He let out a deep sigh. “My family is a bit of a mess. This is really just the tip of the iceberg.” He shook his head and motioned toward some seats, finally removing his hand to pull out a strapped in container, pulling out a few blankets and pillow. “Ready to go home?”

She nodded tiredly and collapsed back against him, sagging against him until she would have fallen down if he hadn’t wrapped his arms around her waist. He sat down, pulling her down into the seat next to him and wrapped the blankets around her with tender, gentle movements.

She watched him move, her affection for him growing with each soft pat and caring rub. “Will you stay with me?”

Tim looked up from the blankets to meet her eyes with a fond, understanding gaze. He brushed her cheek softly and opened his mouth to respond but closed it quickly with a furrow of his brow. “Why don’t you stay with me? Forever?” he added hesitantly.

She blinked at him. “Tim! Are you…”

“Yeah, yeah, I am. Asking you to move into my home, I mean. Well, no, it would be our home,” he rambled. “I’ve wanted to ask you for so long. The only thing holding me back was,” he motioned toward his suit and then around them. “And now that you know…”

Marinette stared at him; mouth slightly ajar in shock. Her mind tried to process all the possible implications, the benefits and dangers. Was it too soon? They hadn’t been dating too long, but they’d been dating long enough for her to know him and know that she loved him and that’s what mattered, wasn’t it? The emotion, not the time.

Was it too dangerous? If she moved in with him, it was going to be difficult to hide the kwami, and yeah, he was probably in a better position than most to understand what it meant to be a Guardian, but it still wasn’t a secret she was willing to share. He would only be the third person she’d ever told. Alya and Adrien were the only people she’d told and the prospect of adding another person to that list was terrifying.

Was she in the right place mentally to make the decision? And if she wasn’t and if she made the wrong choice, would it destroy their relationship? If she said yes just because she was in need of some stability in that moment, but then after a few weeks needed space, would going backward in their relationship harm it? But then, it really wasn’t an in the moment decision. She’d wanted to take the next step in their relationship for a while but had been too afraid. It felt like Tim was hiding something and now she knew what it was.

But all the processing meant Marinette was dead silent for a while too long. Tim’s arms loosened around her, not dropping, but not as tight as he started backtracking frantically. “I mean, if you need some time… This was probably the wrong time. I shouldn’t have…”

The uncertainty in his voice kicked Marinette into action. “Tim?”

“Yeah?” he asked tentatively. She could feel his hands clench almost like he was fighting pulling them back.

She pushed forward and placed a firm kiss on his lips, pulling away after a moment just far enough to whisper against his lips. “Shut up.”

“Yeah, I can do that,” he grinned moments before he pulled her closer to kiss her deeper. He wound his fingers into her hair as hers found his shoulders to hold him against her, reveling in the feel of him, the assurance that he was there, it was him and not someone else. He seemed to need the same assurance, his hands running over her and squeezing her frequently. They didn’t part until one of his teammates passed them and cleared their throat to remind them they were not alone.

Marinette settled back into her seat with a giggle and rested her head on his chest with a contented sigh. “Please take me home… to our home.”

He grinned and dipped down to place a tender kiss against her forehead. “Are you sure?”

She smiled brilliantly. “Oh, yes. Yes, please.”

#maribat #timari #timinette #Timari January #Timari January 2024 #prompt - tender

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finkinthisfrew · 7 months

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I have a request for a smaller story like blurb. Smutty jealous Matty is always hot lol

Yessss!! I looooove smutty jealous Matty! Here you go- hope this is up your alley :)

cw: 18+ in public kinda just a little

I love the thought of Matty taking you to some event, like the Grammy’s or the Brit Awards. Matty gets stuck in conversation with someone. You’re stood to the side, hands clasped politely as you try to follow along with whatever they’re talking about, your attention eventually drifting to the two children a few tables away from you. They’re dancing and giggling, and it’s an adorable sight to see. Several people have already turned to watch. “I reckon they’re paid actors, don’t you?” You hear come from behind you. You turn, coming face to face with the friendly face of a handsome man, his smile warm and genuine. “Definitely- far too cute to be authentic,” you say with a grin, grateful for some lighthearted conversation after several hours of introductions and forced pleasantry. You stand together, cracking a few more paid actor jokes as you watch the children in adoration, their laughter and joy so genuine it hurts your heart.

Only a few minutes into chatting, a man in coattails breaks you up, ushering everyone to their seats before the lights dim, the awards ceremony about to start. You wave farewell to your new friend and he winks at you, making you blush from shock right as you feel a familiar warmth wrapping itself around your waist. “If I got a pound for every man that fucked you with his eyes tonight, I’d be filthy rich,” Matty says teasingly, pressing a kiss into your cheek as he stares daggers into the back of the handsome man who sat down just a few tables away from yours. “You’re insane, Matty. We were talking about children,” you laugh defensively, the red of your cheeks deepening. “I have no doubt in my mind he was imagining them as your own children. Names picked out and everything,” Matty says with a cheeky grin as he pulls your chair out for you to sit in. His voice is light-hearted, but you can hear the tone of huffiness underneath- he’s jealous. “Matty, the woman you were just talking to was flirting with you in FRONT of me,” you say pointedly as you sit down. “Oh, she’s nightmare,” he shudders before joining you in the seat next to you, “but that man seemed far from a nightmare with that dashing smile of his. Such a handsome boy he was. Was that a wink I caught?” Matty’s teasing, but you don’t take any of it personally. In fact, you kind of enjoy it. Matty always gets territorial when he’s jealous.

“He winked? I didn’t notice,” you lie. Matty’s eyebrows raise, clocking your smug grin and avoidant eyes as you sip your champagne. You’re sat a couple feet away from Matty, the chairs evenly spaced around the round table, but you see Matty lean towards you, and all of a sudden your centre of gravity shifts unexpectedly, your chair yanked below you. Suddenly your thigh is touching his thigh, and his breath is hot in your ear. “Oh you didn’t, did you?” he says, his voice low and gravelly, sending a shiver through you. But it’s not a shiver of fear. It’s a shiver of anticipation, because you love this game, and he loves it even more. “No,” you say bluntly, “But I can ask. Would you like me to go over and ask him if he was flirting with me?” You lean towards Matty as you speak, your low neckline leaving little to the imagination- even less the more you lean towards him. You watch his eyes, drooping with lust, flit down to your chest, back up to your eyes, down to your lips, and repeat. You can feel yourself growing wet from the candor of his gaze. He leans back to your ear, his breath tickling the bare skin of your neck as he speaks quietly. “Needn’t I remind you that you are mine. And I don’t like to share. Have you forgotten that, darling?” You feel his hand on your lap find the high slit of your dress. His fingers slip under the fabric stroking your now buzzing skin, his touch sending a swarm of butterflies down south. But his fingers don’t stop. They’re tickling the inside of your thigh as he innocently kisses your cheek- the entire room unaware of what’s happening behind the tablecloth below you. Matty leans in closer, draping his arm casually around your chair, his fingers lazily trailing along your shoulder. “You have trouble remembering that, don’t you baby?” He whispers. You turn to look at him, but he’s smiling innocently at you- beaming, in fact. Anyone looking would think ‘Oh, what a sweet couple, so young and in love, gazing into each other's eyes!’. Meanwhile, Matty’s hand only travels higher up the inside of your thigh, dangerously close to where you're most desperate for his touch. You turn to look at the person who’s stepped on stage, trying to look as composed as Matty, too aware of how gloriously you and your red cheeks were failing. “I don’t like you forgetting that,” Matty growls in your ear. You can feel the heat from his fingers- they can’t be more than a couple millimetres away from the now soaking-wet fabric of your panties. “How can we make sure you never forget that? Any ideas, darling?” He whispers sweetly. Your eyes are glued to the host giving their introductory speech on stage, but all you can see is Matty, shirtless, muscles gleaming with sweat, and his eyes, dark beneath the curtain of thick curls, piercing through you with lust. “Maybe I should marry you so everyone knows you belong to me,” he says quietly, watching your chest cave with desire. You both were desperate for marriage, only waiting for a full year of dating to hit so you wouldn’t freak out your friends and family. “Or maybe I should fuck it into you,” he breathes. His fingers finally make contact with your panties and you stifle your gasp, biting down on your lip. You can feel Matty’s eyes on your face just as clearly as you can feel his finger running up your slit, just enough pressure to send shockwaves of pleasure through your body, but not enough to feel satisfied. “Do you think if I fuck it into you hard enough,” he starts quietly, “enough that you can’t walk for, I don’t know, let’s say… 2 weeks? Maybe then you won’t forget?” His voice sounds innocent, but his actions are downright devilish. His finger stops on your clit and you freeze. He presses down and you stop breathing. Slowly, he begins to rub circles through the fabric. “I’ll make you cum so hard, I won’t let you stop cumming. You’ll cum so hard, you’ll forget your own name. The only one you’ll know is mine, because you’ll be screaming it so loud. Maybe then you’ll remember it while talking to these drooling dogs.”

Suddenly, the room erupts in applause, and Matty’s hand is gone. You realize you’re practically hunched over, panting in desperation. You straighten your back, shooting Matty a poisonous glare as you join in on the applause, but he’s looking up at the stage, smiling politely as he claps for the new speaker, about to announce the first award of the evening. As the applause dies down, Matty picks up his glass of wine, taking a small sip before wrapping his arm back around you, your clit now furiously starved for attention. You take your champagne flute and down the entire glass, uncertain how you’re going to get through the whole night. With Matty now politely listening to the new speaker, you let your eyes wander away from the stage and down to your laps, both covered by the tablecloth. You casually set down your champagne flute on the table, then as if to place your hand on Matty’s lap, you push back the tablecloth slightly- just enough to reveal the straining erection pushing against the pants of Matty’s suit. You look up to see Matty smiling at you, a twinkle in his eye. He places his wine back down before leaning into your ear, whispering just loud enough so only you can hear. “Don’t worry darling, intermission is only an hour away. I’ll fuck you nice and good in the hall closet then.” You feel his hand sneak its way back between your thighs and you sigh in frustration before leaning across the table for the Champagne bucket. You ignore Matty’s smile as you pour yourself a full glass, down it, then pour yourself a second, leaning back in your chair before sighing again. It was going to be a very long hour.

#lovers #at their very best #love #matty the 1975 #bfiafl #tender #the 1975 #fanfiction #fanfic #matty healy #matty #matty 1975 #matty healy smut #matty x reader #the 1975 fanfic #smut #fic prompt #brit awards #grammys

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possibilistfanfiction · 11 months

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post top surgery bea was so !!!. so many feelings, just like when you first wrote about it a few months back. would love to read more if you’re ever feeling inspired. maybe ava observing her feel even more at home in her body?

[idk how many ppl love this headcanon but it's rly lovely? to me at least lol. so a little gentle mama s & bea pov for u]

you've gotten better at caring for your children in different ways as the years have gone on — fostering passions, listening carefully, allowing them to expand into who they were meant to be, within and beyond the order. you've fought a holy war with so many of them — some you have lost forever; some have come back, in one way or another. love, god's love, the highest form of grace, is full of grief and sorrow, and you know that better than most.

but — 'you're sure you've got it?'

you fight back the urge to sigh because ava's eyes are big and earnest and you're reminded of when they were nineteen, and terrified, and so so brave. 'yes, ava. we'll be fine in the brief amount of time you're gone.'

ava nods, more to reassure herself than you;.she's just going to get groceries — a task you had bullied her into, mostly to get her out of the house for a brief moment — and beatrice has mostly slept on and off this past week. it's a joyful time, so deeply, but you know also that seeing beatrice in pain, even for the best reason, is hard for ava. perhaps, you admit, hard for all of you.

but beatrice smiles when ava kisses her forehead, pausing the season of some reality tv show she and lilith appear to be quite invested in that, reluctantly, you have watched enough of at this point to follow along with something slightly more than disinterest. she smiles still when you sit down next to her on their big couch in their sundrenched living room, and you feel peace settle in your soul the way you really only do when you see your children happy.

'okay,' ava says from the door leading to the garage, 'text me if anything happens.'

beatrice rolls her eyes, the soft smile still on her face. 'just make sure to get the proper chocolate.'

'that was one time.'

beatrice laughs. 'bye, ava.'

'love you.'

'i love you too,' beatrice says, then turns to you when ava closes the door softly.

'you are feeling okay, right? i've known you for too long for you to lie to me.'

beatrice touches your wrist gently, in some kind of thanks. 'i'm feeling good. sore, but they took my drains out yesterday so i finally got to shower.'

'well i came at the perfect time, then.'

beatrice huffs a laugh. she shifts a little, sitting up more, and there are freckles all along her shoulders, muscles toned and visible without a shirt on, a blanket over her legs. 'i — uh, i have to let my skin breathe for a few minutes, is it —' her brow furrows — 'is it okay?'

you have known her for so long, seen and still do see so much of yourself in her, and so you understand. 'of course it's okay, beatrice.'

she nods, just once, and then reaches to undo the tight surgical binder. you had read all about top surgery diligently after she had told you — with a nervousness in her voice that had made you ache — that she had a date scheduled for her procedure, even asked one of jillian's surgeon friends to explain the details. you know the expect the bandages over her regrafted nipples, the stretch of the new scars across her chest. there's old scars along her abdomen, but these are different: these are imbued with joy, and care, and a becoming that is so quietly holy you feel blessed to witness it. the deep breath she takes in, the way her shoulders relax and she smiles when she looks down at her chest — it is all you have ever wanted for any of your children.

she looks over at you, a little shaky, a little unsure, and so you offer her what you know she needs, after so many years. 'these were the results you were hoping for, yes?'

she swallows, but it's still impossible for her smile to fully slip. 'beyond what i had hoped for, honestly. it's hard — it was hard to imagine, just how much better i would feel.'

'i'm quite happy for you.'

her smile grows — less shy, more certain — but then her brow furrows in a way you recognize by now that means she's been sitting on something for a while. 'are you — are you ever disappointed?' she pauses, then clarifies quietly, 'in me?'

when beatrice was recruited to the order years and years ago, you recognized quickly that she would be more than fit to run it in your stead. she always had been: brilliant, organized, kinder than you could ever hope for. generous. forgiving. devout. she hasn't changed at all, only grown brighter in her faithfulness.

'i am so proud of you, beatrice. profoundly.'

beatrice sniffles, and you turn toward her fully.

'you have been a beacon for god's love the entire time you have known you, through a great deal of pain. i'm proud of you for finally starting to give that love to yourself.'

as you expected, she does start to cry; it's not uncommon even though she still tries to pretend it's a rare occurrence.

'i'm deeply sorry if i have ever made you to feel that way, especially after you renounced your vows.' you worked with her to bring ava back; you won a war; you walked her down the aisle. 'i am in awe of who you have become, beyond what i ever could have hoped for you.' you look pointedly to her chest, flat and tender and, in the ways you have learned matter most, beautiful.

she wipes tears and then huffs a laugh. 'you haven't,' she says, 'made me feel like that. not since i was brand new at the order and couldn't properly shoot a pistol, at least.'

you laugh fondly, remembering how horrible a shot she had first been, too tightly wound to breathe through the kick properly.

'i've just been in my head, a little. it happens when i'm high.'

you raise a brow, just for fun, and she seems to realize what she's said, blanching.

'not that i've ever been high, ever, other than, you know, pain medicine after surgery or injuries. not once, not one single time.'

'it's still a sin to lie. you know that, right?'

beatrice eventually laughs, happily. 'ava's not particularly subtle, is he?'

'neither is the smell of weed.'

she laughs even harder.

'i wasn't always a nun.'

she calms, quiets. 'thank you, for being a really wonderful mother.'

it fills your chest unlike anything else — ava and their halo; mary and lilith finding their way back home; your new girls getting to train in peace — and you squeeze her hand. 'thank you for being a really wonderful daughter.'

she nods, another layer of peace settling against her skin. when it comes time, a few minutes later, for her to have to put her surgical binder back on, you help with gentle hands.

#wn #wn fic #avatrice #avatrice fic #butch bea 🥺🫡#i could go on & on about how trans care can definitely be lifesaving but also the nuance of like....#it doesn't need to Save Your Life for u to want to feel happier & better & more at home in ur skin!#anyway love them #again so so so normal during pride abt found family lol #i have a rly angsty prompt fill coming up like tomorrow or sunday but to tide us over this is v tender

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