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whatsgoingoninsiderikkishead · 3 years

Text

Word Count: 3k+; smut with plot

Contents: smut/18+/MINORS DNI, Chubby Reader, Aged Up Characters, explicit smut, virgin! Reader, Angst, Angst with slight comedy, afab reader, female reader, explicitly chubby reader, virginity loss.

A/N: I have this special talent -I dunno if it’s special, I might not be the only one but I just think it’s special to me- where I can write a story using a song as it’s background song. Sooo, I with a wrote this listening to Mr. Loverman by Ricky Mongomery over and over again. I got this scenario of Hanta for a long time now and everytime I hear this song I was like, why don’t I just write it down. So I did. So here… You know what, why don’t you send me a song title and let me see if I can write a story out of it.

Y/n was Interning with Hawks in his agency at the same time as Fumikage was, where Y/n and Fumikage became good friends. Hawks was the one who babysat Y/n when they were still younger and acted as Y/n big brother when he was still at the Hero Public Safety Commission since Y/n mother was the President of the Hero Public Safety Commission and all.

One day, Fumikage invited Y/n to one of their events at UA, where she met Hanta and Fumikage’s other classmates.

Hanta was the one who instantly caught Y/n’s eyes, thinking he might not be the flashiest person like Katsuki but he is the most interesting among their squad. You two instantly clicked and the others started to tease you together. Eventually, you both fell in love with each other. To Y/n, Hanta was one of the people that has the coolest quirk and she adores him.

Hanta started courting you and was tested by Hawks which he passed in flying colors. But knowing your Mother, both of you decided to keep your feelings on hold as per Hawks’ advice. Wait until you both graduate, he said. So you two waited.

You two talked over the phone until dawn, texted everyday, went on dates in cover of training with Hawks or going out with Y/n’s friends. It’s like both of you were already dating but without the label. For four years, you two endured and waited. Until you and Hanta graduated.

On Hanta’s Graduation, Y/n came. As a surprise Y/n came. With Hawks of course as a chaperone as you know Y/n’s Mother will not allow her to go to UA all alone. When Hanta walked outside of the auditorium and immediately saw Y/n, he couldn't help himself to run to her. He’s so happy that she came. He couldn’t come to her graduation as their relationship was not yet known by her Mother.

Hanta lifted her up, twirling her around. Both of them laughed, giddy with excitement. Suddenly, Y/n grabbed his face and kissed him. Hanta froze, then he slowly slid Y/n down, lips still pressed together. Both of them can hear Hanta’s friends and classmates cheering.

They slowly pulled away, still dazed with the kiss. A clearing of the throat snapped them out of their trance and there she is, the President of the Hero Public Safety Commission standing by her limo service.

“Y/n.” she said, no order. She ordered Y/n.

Y/n slowly released your grasp on Hanta and murmured “I’ll call you.” which he answered with a nod. Y/n walked to the car and kept looking back.

“Mr. Sero.” said the President. She took steps towards Hanta and added “Congratulations on your graduation.” She holds out a card towards him. “If you want to join the Hero Public Safety Commission, you’re welcome to.” Hanta was surprised but still took the card and the President turned and followed y/n at the car.

Hanta was left staring at the card that was left by the President when Hawks tapped His shoulder. “Congrats kid.” he nodded. “I’ll just follow them.” Hawks didn’t wait for his answer as he swiftly lifted off to the direction of the car.

That might be the first sign. Hanta thought. He never saw y/n for a week after that. Hanta was getting distraught in worry but he tried to be positive. That might be the second sign. He was able to reach her after a week. Y/n apologize for what her Mother did, she told Hanta to disregard her Mother’s offer and it was not a good idea to join HPSC after what they made Hawks do.

They both said their ‘I love you's’ to each other. This became their routine, phone calls turned to face time, facetime turned to Zoom/Skype calls. This went on for almost a year. Hanta can only see you through screens.

They both know that Y/n’s Mother was very strict but they never knew how hard they were until that fateful day.

Y/n managed to get out of their home with the help of Hugo. One of her Mother’s bodyguards, who was almost like a nanny to her. She begged and begged Hugo to let her meet with Hanta as she knew deep inside her that her Mother was planning something. Something that they have no say to.

Hugo knew the consequences of his action but still allowed Y/n to meet with that boy Hanta. Hugo brought you to the apartment that Hanta stays with his friends. He gave you an hour and a half as the President will be on her way home by then so you didn't hesitate.

Y/n climbed down the car and ran towards the building. When she arrived at the elevator, she wished for it to move faster but a few minutes of waiting for the elevator to arrive at the first floor was like an hour. Y/n quickly get in and push the button to Hanta’s floor.

When the Elevator dings, she gets out immediately, the door isn't even open full yet and she sprints towards their door and knocks frantically.

Hanta pulled the door open, ready to yell at the person who disturbed his peace. He was trying to calm himself as you were not answering his calls and now there was a douchebag that was knocking on their door like there’s a fire.

“What th-mmph!” Hanta was knocked down by something soft, or rather by someone soft and it was kissing him. He slightly pushed the person away and gasped when he saw who it was. “Y-y/n?”

“Hi!” you smiled.

“Oh my god. Baby!” he wrapped you in his arms as you both still sat on the floor with you straddling him. “Oh my god..” he murmured, relishing the feeling of you in his arms. The door was still open, he used his tape to shut it closed.

“Where are the others?” you asked. “Oh my gosh! I missed you so much!” You exclaimed and gave him a kiss again. “Oh my gosh!” you giggled

Hanta smiled, “I missed you too.” He said as he tucked a fallen hair to the back of your ears. “How did you get here?” Hanta grabbed both of your thighs and stood up.

“Oh, Hanta! Put me down. You’ll hurt yourself.” you said. “I gained a few pounds when I was locked up at home.” you said, rolling your eyes. “I’m fatter than before.”

“Don’t say that.” He chastised, giving you a smack on your lips. “Don’t say that. You’re perfect to me in many ways.”

Hanta, the ever so loving boy you’ve ever met. You smiled at him shyly. “Show me.” You said as you cradled his face with both of your hands. You leaned your forehead against his. “Show me, Hanta.”

Hanta was surprised with your request but quickly recovered and carried you towards his bedroom, he almost dropped you when he tripped on his own feet in excitement where you just giggled at him.

Hanta slowly dropped you in his bed, both of you were all giggling until Hanta pulled off the muscle tee that he’s wearing. You slightly sat up and leaned on your elbows, watching him. Then he pulled down his gray sweatpants, leaving him in his black boxer briefs. You felt your mouth water.

You stood up in front of him with the bed behind you, you reached to the top button of your shirt but Hanta stopped you.

“Let me.” Hanta released one button of your shirt. He lifted your chin up as he leaned down to kiss you. His kisses now consist of nibbling, licking and sucking which makes you dizzy.

Hanta reached for the second button. You gasped as his lips went down to your neck towards the flesh that was now showing with two of your buttons undone. “Damn.” Hanta mumbled as he looked down at the cleavage that was showing. You remember, this will be both of your first times.

You pulled on the bottom of your shirt and whipped it off surprising Hanta. “Baby..” he murmured. “Oh baby.” He pulled you towards him. Skin to skin, chest to chest, lips to lips. You both crawled to the bed. You felt Hanta’s hands crawling on your back as he released the clasps of your bra effortlessly. You raised a brow as his maneuver. “I watch a lot of videos.” he explained, making you giggle. Whipping off your bra to the floor, Hanta gasped. You felt his hands shake as it slowly crept up to your tits. You grabbed one of his hands and placed it on your tit and squeezed. “Oh sweet baby jesus.” he mumbled. His hands slowly followed by his lips as he left nibbles, kisses and little bites all over your chest.

“Hanta..” You moaned as he sucked on one of your nipples and played with the other one. The skirt that you're wearing now was hoisted up your waist. Hanta released a groan when he looked down and saw the wet part of your underwear. He rubs a thumb on your covered slit making you moan. “Hanta, please..” Hanta looked up at you and you gave him a nod. He pulled down your underwear. You shivered as cold air hits your pussy.

“Damn. Baby” Hanta ran a finger to your now naked pussy. “I’ll eat this pussy next time, baby. I promise you that.” he promised and leaned in for a kiss while pulling his boxers off. He kneeled up the bed between your spread legs and you were stunned. His dick was long and thick standing proud over his trimmed bush. Damn, will that fit? You thought. “I’ll fit, baby. I promise.” He gave you another kiss and helped you take your skirt off.

Both of you were now naked. Hanta reached over his bedside drawer and reached on a condom and a tube of lube. “Uhhmmm.. What?” you pondered looking at the lube tube.

“I’ll tell you later.” he said sheepishly as he rolled down a condom and squirted some lube on his hand and rubbed it all over his cock and lather some on your pussy.

He slipped a finger in you and ran it up to your clit making you gasped and buck in surprise. “Hanta!” You slapped his arm as he chucked.

“Sorry. Sorry.” he snickers.

“I need your cock right now, not your fingers.” you said.

“Such a dirty mouth.” Hanta said as he positioned himself on your opening. “You want my cock? My cock you’ll get.” He slowly pushed in until he bottomed out, making you both moan and groan in sensation. “Fuck. You feel so good, darling.”

You pulled him down for a kiss while you waited for the sting to go away and adjust to his size and the motion made you moan as you felt his tip move deep inside you.

“I’m gonna move now, m’kay?” you nodded as Hanta slowly pulled out. Your eyes rolled up when he pushed back in. “Shit.” he cursed.

“Hanta..” you sighed as he slowly made love to you. His lips were everywhere, on yours, on your neck, or your chest and tits, sucking. "Faster." you added.

Hanta leaned up and pushed your thighs towards your chest. He’s seen this position in porn multiple times, imagining it was you and him but damn, looking down at you right now was definitely better than his imagination and the feeling of you with him deep inside was intoxicating. A groan escaped his lips as he started thrusting faster. He felt a bump inside you with the tip of his head and you gasped.

“Is that it?” he asked, making you gasp as he kept on hitting it again. “Found it.” he grinned down at you, leaning on his hands with your legs between your body.

Hanta’s thrust went harder and faster and deeper. Your moans and his groans echoed in his room with the slapping of your body.

“Ha-hantaa..”

“You coming, baby? You gonna make me feel you cumming?” He muttered in your ears. “Let me feel it..” Hanta reaches down between your bodies to your clit and rubs in sync with hids thrusts.

You let out a little scream as you feel yourself getting closer and closer. The feeling of Hanta’s body over you and inside of you as he continued hitting your g-spot was so good. Your hands were scratching down on Hanta’s back as you felt it. Your walls milked on Hanta’s length, throwing him off the edge. He felt the hot spurst of his cum shooting inside you, silently wishing that he was not wearing a condom so that you can feel it bathe your walls. Hanta was shaking over you but his thrust continued a few more moments making both of you overstimulate, then Hanta dropped onto your side and pulled you on his chest as you both rested after your heated session. You remained like that for a few minutes.

Hanta looked down to you and said “I love you Y/n.” holding your face in his hands.

You were teary in his confession. “I love you too, Hanta.”

He was rubbing circles on your back when a loud knock rapped on the door of Hanta’s apartment. Both of you were confused by it as you were not expecting anyone that night.

Hanta pulled on one of his gray sweatpants and went to answer the door. When he opened the door it was quickly pushed in and the 3 Bodyguards of your mother walked in. Hanta was held down against the wall by one and two went to the bedroom. Hanta yelled at them to not go there, to leave you. The guards do not care. Hanta heard you scream and he tried to buck off the guard that was holding him down but he was not as strong as this one. The two came back with you in one of the goon’s arms, unconscious.

This infuriated Hanta, he managed to push the guard away and automatically ran towards you but he was held by the second one who’s standing beside the one who’s holding you. Hanta managed to grab one of your wrists. He remembered you opening your eyes groggily. You called out to him but he felt the guard that he bucked off covered his nose and mouth with a cloth and he felt dizzy. The last thing that he saw before all went black was you reaching out to him in tears.

When Hanta woke up, he called out your name, running all over the rooms looking for you. He knew that you’re no longer there, his knees gave out and he dialed the first person that was on his speed dial.

"They got her." Hanta sobbed. "They got her man.. They- aaaaarrrrggghhhh!!!!" Hanta screamed, clutching his head as he let the phone drop. Hanta never felt so worthless. He felt weak and he hated it. He’s hurting everywhere and all he can do is endure it.

"What the hell are you talking about, soy sauce!?" Echoed on the phone. "Soy- HANTA!? HANTA!!" Hanta was in full blown crying that he didn't hear him "We're coming home. Hold tight."

Hanta was still crying when they arrived. Katsuki and Eiji pulled Hanta to the couch from the floor where he was left and still sobbing. Mina grabbed a glass of water and handed it to Denki who asked Hanta to take a drink.

They waited for Hanta to come back to his senses and when he managed to tell them what happened, the group’s expression fluctuates to surprise, confusion, anger, fear and back to anger. You don’t deserve this, they all agreed. They all wanted to do something their own way but they know that the Hero Public Safety Commission is not an easy opponent and as of that moment, they all can’t do anything.

Loud boisterous laughs snapped Hanta out of his thoughts. He sat on one of the stools at the bar, cradling his drink. It’s been three years since that fateful day. This was supposed to be a happy celebration. It’s Denki’s 22nd birthday and here he was sulking at the bar. A hand landed on his shoulder, he looked at the person and saw Denki giving him a sad smile. Hanta scoffed at him. He hates pity.

“Han, my man.” Denki tapped him on his shoulders again. “You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah.” he laughed sardonically. “Yeah, I’m good.” he added, giving Denki a small smile.

“I know you’re not.” Denki sat at the stool beside him. “It's okay if you’re not up to party, y’know.” Denki gave Hanta a little smile. “I know. She was supposed to be here, and last year, and the last year, but I understand if she can’t come.” Denki said. “You know how her Mother is.” Denki stated making Hanta gulp down his drink.

Hanta raised his hand to the bartender and ordered another drink. He knew her mother alright. He knew her so well. Hanta gave out a sigh and reached out to the glass the Bartender slid to him.

“I can’t even give her a call, man.” He gave Denki a rueful laugh “They blocked all of my way to reach out to her. Hawks can’t even give me anything anymore” Hanta scoffed. "After everything. After-" Hanta felt his chest closing up as he stopped a sob. “I did EVERYTHING they wanted me to do!” his voice cracked as he’s trying not to get any attention from the people around them “Everything.. and all I wanted was to see her...” Hanta whimpered. “I just wanted to see her… and be with her… and hug her.. and love her…” he sniffed. “Was that too much to ask!?!” he questioned Denki as he looked at him sorrowfully. “God damn it.” Hanta turned away to avoid looking at Denki's expression as it made what he’s feeling worse. “We had plans, you know…” he murmured to Denki. “I love her so much..” Hanta chugged his drink and brought it down hard on the counter. “Until now. I love Y/n until now… I never stopped.” Hanta ran his hands through his now cropped hair. “But I still feel fucking helpless!” he gritted. “I HATE FEELING FUCKING HELPLESS!!” He can no longer help his emotions as his voice gets loud. The noise in the bar went silent in his explosion. Hanta felt a rub on his back, he turned to face the owner of the hands to push them away “I don't need your-!” but he gasped as he looked at the owner of the hand.

“I never stopped loving you too..” Y/n murmured as she gave Hanta a small smile. “Hi, Hanta.”

Hanta slowly turned to face her. His hand reached out to her face as Y/n leaned to his palm. “Did I get too drunk?” he asked, making Y/n and Denki chuckled. “What the hell did you put on my beer, Denki?” he added as he caressed the face that he missed seeing and love. “Please tell me I’m not hallucinating and just imagining you here where I was really caressing Denki’s face because fuck…” Y/n laughed as she shook her head. Y/n’s laugh was like a sweet bell in Hanta’s ears. “Oh my love..” He pulled Y/n to him and kissed her. He kissed her how he was supposed to kiss her all this time. He kissed her like it was his last breath. He kissed her like his life depended on it.

I’ll be waiting on your songs rec..

Over and out,

~Rikki~

442 notes · View notes

ramzawrites · 3 years

Note

can i request an angsty sbi fic where sibling reader lost two lives saving others (maybe tubbo at the festival?) and they see everything falling apart (techno and phil destroying everything, wilbur dead and tommy focused on the disks) and they pretend to be ok while their mental health gets worse and worse until they decide to end it, and people only realise they weren't okay after the death message pops up and their reactions to seeing it? if not thats completely fine, ik its pretty heavy

Broken

Pairings: none

Characters included: Wilbur, Tommy, Philza, Tubbo, Technoblade

Warnings: depression, suicide (falling, non descriptive), angst

Series: a request!

Summary: Y/N just wanted their home back. They just wanted to live a peaceful life but instead all their hopes and dreams got ripped apart by the people they loved the most.

Words count: 3647

Authors Note: Honestly I could have shortened it quite a bit but here we are, it’s way longer than I wanted but I hope you guys enjoy this. I’m sorry if this went kind off of rails to what you might have envisioned. Also I hope that you guys know that you are loved and appreciated. I appreciate you for taking the time to read my stuff :] Here is m favorite video to cheer me up some times, hope it can cheer you up as well!

I’m also curious what your guys thoughts and opinion are on this or my writing in general! Can’t get better without feedback :]

Y/N loved their family.

They were all pretty chaotic but so was Y/N, following their siblings into trouble ignoring any possible consequences.

So when Wilbur proclaimed he would create an independent Nation inside the SMP that was owned by Dream himself, you bet that Y/N was standing right beside him.

When Wilbur would struggle with his tasks or was weighed down by doubts they would swoop right in and do their best to support him. Every time Wilbur would say “I don’t know what I would do without you sometimes.” While Y/N didn’t do it for praise but out of love for him it was still nice knowing that he appreciated them and that he took note of their work.

Tommy wasn’t really for heartfelt words but he too expressed in his own way how much he appreciated them being around. Most of his schemes wouldn’t have even happened without Y/N’s help after all. As a way to say thanks he would let them just take stuff fout his chets or when he heard they needed a specific resource he would wander out and get it for them. Of course saying something on the lines of “I was out there anyhow, so I brought some with me. It was on the way.” Y/N could read between the lines though. They grew up with him after all.

Y/N put so much energy into L’Manberg they couldn’t help but be in love with this little nation. They would do everything to protect their home.

When Y/N lost their first life it was together with their siblings protecting their nephew Fundy.

The Dream Team suddenly retreated after another battle against L’Manberg. While the group was celebrating what they thought was their first victory in ages, Eret appeared. She told the group of a small bunker with more resources.

Still celebrating Wilbur, Y/N, Tommy, Tubbo and Fundy made their way towards the bunker. The bunker that would later go down into history as “The Final Control Room.”

Inside they all looked at the labeled chests only to notice that they were empty. Eret then pressed a button which opened up secret walls with the Dream Team standing behind. She herself got into safety as Dream and his friends merciless attacked the L’Manberg faction.

As soon as Y/N understood what was happening they did their best to form a wall between the attackers and Fundy. Slowly pushing him out of the room while they made sure to block the exit, giving the Fox Hybrid enough time to run away.

When they woke up again it was inside their home. In L’Manberg. Sore from the respawning.

Once they did respawn though it didn’t take long for Fundy to barge into their room and throw himself against them, thanking them. Wilbur was close by, looking worse for wear as well but incredible thankful nonetheless.

After that and a few battles more Tommy challenged Dream to a duel in order to secure independence. He lost so instead he bartered his music discs for freedom.

After Tommy respawned a second time Y/N made sure to spent most of their time hovering around him. Making sure he was doing alright.

But with that L’Manberg was independent and it was Y/N’s time to shine. Sure, they worked hard on strengthening the infrastructure of the nation but now, maybe even because of that, they basically coordinated all the new builds.

Shops, homes and other things were being build with them overseeing it. Meanwhile Wilbur and Tommy took care of the political part only to come to the conclusion that they had to have a proper election.

At first it started innocently enough as well. New political parties were made that begun advertising themselves. Funny enough they would always come to Y/N asking them where they could hang up their posters. It was then that Y/N realized that the people saw them as some sort of authority, even asking them if they wanted to start their own campaign. They politely declined, saying they worked best as a support role.

Then Schlatt entered the stage and everything got thrown upside down.

In the end he managed to become the next president via a coalition and his first declaration as the president, or emperor as he called himself, was to exile Tommy and Wilbur.

As they ran for their life Y/N didn’t hesitate to follow. It hurt them so much to leave L’Manberg, their fruit and labor, behind. This only got worse once they realized that Tubbo was basically left alone back at the city under Schlatt’s rule.

Then Pogtopia got established.

Tommy, Wilbur and Y/N did their best to get a proper foothold again. Gathering resources and planning for ways to get their home back. And to accomplish this they soon called in the oldest sibling of the group, Technoblade.

Techno has been away for the longest time now. He moved out early to travel the world and apparently train himself. Somehow Tommy found a way to get a message to him, so he made his way towards Pogtopia.

He wasn’t big on words or emotions but as soon as he arrived he let Y/N hug him.

“This is a onetime deal, Y/N.”

With Techno they finally felt like they had a chance. Y/N could maybe return home someday. Back when they were children Techno always looked out for them so to have him back Y/N felt infinitely safer.

All the while Wilbur showed more and more signs that his mental health was rapidly declining. Y/N did their best trying to cheer him up but there was only so much they could do. Especially since they themself were struggling.

L’Manberg was their everything and now it was under the iron rule of Schlatt. They had to watch as Schlatt walked through the nation, ripping apart builds that they commissioned or even built themself. Every time he did something like that it felt like another stab wound directly into their heart.

Then the festival happened where Y/N lost their second life protecting Tubbo.

Schlatt wanted to apparently celebrate democracy and his amazing rule. Tommy and Wilbur weren’t allowed to join while Techno and Y/N received an invitation.

Y/N was very wary of that. They learned from Tubbo that Schlatt apparently was pretty interested in bringing them over to Manberg since a lot of the residents trusted them and saw them more as an authority than Schlatt himself, so bringing them over would probably also bring a lot of the residents around to his rule.

On the day of the festival Y/N made sure to stay close to Techno. Holding on to his arm and basically hiding behind him, not feeling up to talk with all the people in Manberg.

The people were happy to see them but Y/N was tired. They haven’t slept properly ever since the exile, too many thoughts that kept them awake.

Then the speeches started.

Honestly Y/N wasn’t really listening, their attention purely on a broken old building. It used to be the place where Y/N and the other residents would meet up and map out their plans for new builds. Discussing and even sometimes arguing on what materials should be used and where to get them. Now it was empty.

Their attention got pulled back towards what was actually happening once Tubbo begun speaking. It was a nice little speech Y/N had to admit.

Just as Tubbo was about to leave, Schlatt moved back in. Holding him in place and pushing him in something that Y/N had to describe as a cage with the help of Quackity.

“Techno, buddy. Come up here for a sec.”

Technoblade tensed up but still moved towards the stage. There Schlatt uttered the words that pulled the rug out from beneath Y/N once again.

“Kill him Techno. He is a traitor.”

“Don’t you dare!” Y/N yelled out, making their way towards the stage as well.

Y/N knew Techno couldn’t deal well with social pressure, especially when there were about ten people or more behind him that could attack him at any point.

Tubbo looked so scared as he pressed himself against the wall. There was no escape for him.

When Techno moved his crossbow up, aiming directly at Tubbo, Y/N let out another scream. Urging him to stop.

Explosions. Colorful explosions filled the place.

“Y/N!” it was Tubbo screaming their name out.

Just as Techno pressed the trigger Y/N managed to jump in front, the rockets hitting them instead of Tubbo.

Their older brother looked absolutely mortified “Y/N? Wha- What? Why? How?” staring at Y/N’s lifeless body that slowly dissolved. They were slowly respawning but seeing his siblings body was enough to send him in some sort of frenzy.

Filled with bloodlust he aimed his crossbow towards Schlatt and Quackity. Killing them with one press of the trigger only to turn around and aim his crossbow towards the people.

As this happened Tommy enderpearled over, screaming at Techno.

He helped Tubbo out of the cage who was still in a state of shock. He only saw Y/N for a second and the next they were laying on the ground in their own blood.

Y/N heard the details later after they respawned. Tommy had apparently been incredibly angry at Techno, even attacking him. Wilbur then offered that the two deal with their argument via a fistfight inside a pit.

Normally Y/N would have yelled at Wilbur for that. Would have told him that this was his dumbest idea yet but they were too shook from what had happened to them.

Technoblade always spelled safety to them but he killed them. Sure, he meant to kill Tubbo but that didn’t really make it any better. They gave him an out, they would have helped fighting off all these people so they could flee.

The next time they saw Techno they flinched every time he got too close to them and yet they still put on a smile “Never, do this again.”

Techno only nodded.

After this downward slope the momentum didn’t seem to stop for them. Wilbur dropped even more and more off. Falling victim to his paranoia. Y/N tried their best convincing him to not blow up Manberg, that they will fight to gain it back. At this point trying to gain back their L’Manberg was the only thing they could hold on to.

Though all that work was for nothing.

The war to take back L’Manberg went way differently than they all had imagined. Y/N fought with a viciousness most didn’t think they had it in them. This was the day for them to finally regain what they had wished for, for the longest time now.

Everything came to a halt once Dream surrendered. He showed them Schlatt who was sitting in the Carmavan. Drunk off his mind he yelled and screamed at people only to die of a heart attack which meant that the Pogtopia faction won.

The people begun cheering, they had their home back! They were free! Y/N was probably the loudest by far. It felt like a huge weight was lifted from their shoulders. All this hardship and they could finally return to working with the others and rebuild L’Manberg. Return it to its former glory.

Tubbo got appointed President and Y/N was happy with it. Tubbo had an eye for building and was a good person, with him they were sure they could do some amazing things.

Apparently Techno thought otherwise. Instead he pulled Soulsand out, holding onto the Wither skulls as a visible threat.

Y/N had somewhat forgiven Techno for what had happened. It was a stressful situation and they acknowledged it but seeing him there, threatening to kill all of them? That they knew they couldn’t forgive quite so easy. Especially since he made some sound points but it was their L’Manberg. The people didn’t like living under Schlatt’s rule, this wasn’t something that could be described simply as a coup. Technically he was right but only technically. There were so many things that came into play that could let you argue over that but Techno would have none of it. Yelling something about Tommy only wanting to be a hero.

When the first explosions rang Y/N thought it came from a Wither but Techno was still in the middle of putting the heads onto the structure.

When more explosions rang and the ground beneath their feet broke away, Y/N understood what had happened.

At some point Wilbur ran off and must have pressed the button. The button that set the TNT beneath the city ablaze, effectively destroying everything.

Y/N was too busy with finding hard ground again and then dealing with the Withers and Techno that they only noticed after the fighting ended, how broken the nation was now.

They had won. Why would Wilbur do this? He knew how much the nation meant to them and again, they had won, so there was no reason for blowing the place up!

And if that wasn’t enough to see how both their older brothers destroyed everything Y/N worked for, they also had to see how Philza, their father, stood next to the corpse of Wilbur. It felt like they lost everything.

They lost their trust in Technoblade.

They lost their hopes and dreams via Wilbur blowing up the freshly liberated L’Manberg.

They lost their trust in their own father who had slain his own son.

Y/N felt absolutely crushed. Family was so important to them and it was their own family that destroyed their hopes and dreams. They did everything for them and this is how they repaid them?

Once everything calmed down and Tubbo begun making plans on how to rebuild the nation, he immediately came to Y/N for help but they hesitated which worried him.

“Is everything okay? Usually you would have jumped on that offer, Y/N.”

Y/N put on a smile that didn’t seem to reach their eyes “Don’t worry Tubbo, of course I’ll help you. I’m just tired from what we have been through. I finally have time to take a breather and I think it all just crashed down on me.”

“Well if you ever need help you can talk to me.” It was an earnest offer that Y/N would never take advantage of.

Y/N mostly ignored Philza. He talked with them a few times and even explained what has happened but Y/N still made a wide berth around him. Seeing him just hammered back down the feeling of distrust and hurt. Their familial relationship took a hard hit from that point on.

With Ghostbur it was a weird situation as well. They enjoyed spending time with him but were also always incredibly sad around him. Ghostbur took notice of this and would always offer them to take some of his blue but Y/N declined every time.

“Don’t worry Ghostbur. Everything is still just fresh in my mind. I’ll be back to my old self in no time. You take care of yourself, you hear?”

“Of course Y/N! You have always looked out for me, thank you.”

L’Manberg slowly took on a proper form again but it wasn’t the L’Manberg Y/N knew. It felt to them like they were standing on top of a grave. A grave for their dreams and it was getting hard, real hard, to walk through it every day seeing places where they know specific buildings should be standing. Buildings they build on their own only to be destroyed by their brothers doing.

Then Tubbo exiled Tommy and Y/N felt conflicted. They felt obligated to stay in L’Manberg since they were the main person people came to for builds but that was their brother. Their only brother they still trusted and felt a need to protect.

Instead of following him into exile they stayed in the city. Visiting Tommy whenever they could, noticing pretty fast that he was struggling hard with his situation and for once they didn’t feel strong enough to properly support him. Y/N tried their best but once they noticed they couldn’t reach him completely they gave up a tiny bit.

It reminded them too much of Wilbur.

So while they visited him and helped them where they could, they spent more and more time alone in their home only coming out for work and other necessary things like food. Soon it was normal to see them with ever present dark circles beneath their eyes.

Before Philza disappeared to join Techno, he would stop by Y/N’s home all the time.

“Have you eaten, yet?”

“Yes, dad. I’m an adult. I can take care of myself.”

“I just haven’t seen you much lately and I got worried.”

“Don’t worry. I’m fine. Hey, if you go out, please, can you tell Ghostbur to stop coming around to throw Blue inside my mailbox? He won’t listen to me but perhaps he will to you.” And they would always carry the same big smile on their face accompanied by empty eyes.

The only time their happiness reached their eyes again was when Tommy returned from his exile. They crashed into their younger sibling holding him close to them and muttering apologies. He pried them off, embarrassed by all of this.

This short bout of happiness was destroyed by Doomsday. Dream, Technoblade and Philza once again made sure to set L’Manberg ablaze.

The second time Y/N’s fruits and labor got completely annihilated by their family but still they had some hopes this time. They still had Tommy on their side they could just finally build a home somewhere else and live in peace but Tommy had other ideas. He had it in his mind to get his discs back and he would do anything for it.

So while Y/N tried to ground themself with new hopes and ideas, holding onto the only constant of what was important to them, that being Tommy, Tommy ignored them. He was too busy with his own things and the worst part was that Y/N couldn’t even fault him for it.

They understood how much these discs meant to him and that this was something that had to come to an end but with this they lost another, and possibly their last, anchor point.

Yet you could still see them running around with a smile, tending to every one and trying to help out the best they could.

Then suddenly they were gone. They just disappeared one day. The few people who took note of that took some time to look around but there was no sign as to where they left. Y/N didn’t take their armor with them nor any weapons or food.

< Y/N succumbed to despair and fell of a high place>

When every ones communicators rung out with this message the SMP fell quiet.

Tommy couldn’t believe what he was reading. This didn’t make any sense. Y/N was fine! They would talk with them and everything looked fine! This must have been a cruel joke from Dream somehow, right? This couldn’t be real. Why would Dream do this? This didn’t seem to make sense.

Exactly there was no sense in Dream doing this.

While Tommy was battling with his thoughts Tubbo came running over to him. Tears streamed down his face.

“What happened? Why did this happen? Where are they?”

Tommy was visibly shaking “I- I have no idea. I don’t know. They looked fine. I’m- I’m not sure. Tubbo-“

Tubbo just slammed into him, giving him a proper hug, trying his best to help Tommy through his rising panic. He lost another sibling and by Ender that hurt.

Meanwhile in the snowy Tundra both Philza and Techno were staring at their communicators as well.

Philza was pale. So pale it almost rivaled the snow around him.

Techno had his brows furrowed. For anyone who didn’t know him well enough he looked at best displeased with this situation but Philza could see the small details that told a different story. Him sucking his breath in as he read the message, hiding his quivering lip in his cloak. He was heartbroken.

Sure the two weren’t on good speaking terms but Y/N was still his younger sibling. He still loved them.

Philza felt similar. He acknowledged that he screwed up and honored their wish to be left alone by him but he never imagined this could lead to their death. His knees buckled and he sank to the ground. Two of his children died, one directly by his hand and the other due to his inaction.

His eyes glossed over, the world became a blur and yet he continued rereading this message over and over. Y/N just lost their last life.

Philza could hear Techno walk closer to him and sat down on the ground as well.

“Y/N is-“ Philza begun but he didn’t know what he wanted to say. State the obvious to his eldest son?

“I have more fault in this than you, dad. Don’t feel guilty.” His voice was uncharacteristically weak. Wavering as he spoke. He wanted to cheer Philza up but it was a weak attempt.

“What have we done.”

Ghostbur was at first confused when he read the message. It was like he couldn’t connect the dots but it slowly dawned on him what this meant.

“Oh my.” His usual happy demeanor was suddenly gone.

He touched his face and as he put his hands back down he saw how they were smeared with blue.

“Y/N is dead?”

His usual ghost behavior seemed to break a bit. It was like through the warped version of Wilbur that was called Ghostbur for a moment the true version of him came through again. And he was hurt. Devastated.

“I think I need to find the others.” He mumbled to himself, making his way towards his family. All the while he held onto the blue wool of Friend like a lifeline. Combing through it nervously. Blue continuing to spill from his eyes.

#mcyt x reader #mcyt reader insert #mcyt fanfiction #mcyt x Y/N #dream smp reader insert #dream smp fanfiction #dream smp x reader #dream smp x Y/N #dsmp fanfiction #dsmp reader insert #dsmp x reader #sbi #sleepy bois inc #ramza writes #Anonymous #anon request

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spooky-z · 4 years

Text

MIDNIGHT SKY

I have three important warnings about the AU oneshot.

The first is that this story is a little different from what I have already written. What does that mean? It means that the story will have dirty jokes, (1) detailed french kiss and alcohol. And sexual tension. Yes. An ace trying to write UST. Ah! They are 18 here.

The second is, of course, language. There is nothing more explicit than what I have written in other stories. It's just that it's hard for me to write stories without cursing like a sailor. Sorry.

The third is that I didn’t tag anyone in this story for the reasons above. I didn't want to make anyone uncomfortable.

The two songs featured in the story are (in order of appearance): Gone by Charli XCX and Midnight Sky by Miley Cyrus.

9.6K (the story is under "read more")

Maribat by @ozmav

In that au, Alya and Marinette dated for a year at the Collège, but when they joined Lycée and Lila arrived, they broke up because Lila managed to convince Alya that Marinette was cheating on her.

Lila's obsession with Adrien in the canon is replaced by Marinette, that is, instead of Adrien, Marinette is Lila's target here.

Since Lila never lied about being friends with Ladybug, Mari never suspected the girl.

So, Lila comments to Alya that it was very strange Marinette's constant disappearances and how the girl made up weak excuses about it

Alya is hard to convince at first, but with Lila's time and persuasive words, she ends up giving in and believing in Lila.

Alya accuses Mari, Mari denies it, but it's no use.

They break up.

Everyone starts to exclude Marinette, supporting Alya who is heartbroken because she still loved Mari.

Except Adrien, who is a good friend for the designer.

So, while everyone was focused on Alya, Lila approaches Marinette and Adrien in the image of a concerned and supportive friend.

She offers a shoulder for Marinette to cry, and friendship to Adrien.

This is, of course, hidden from everyone.

Lila uses Adrien and Marinette for personal gain. Knowing that Adrien was too innocent and Marinette too kind.

Marinette falls in love with the Italian and with Adrien's encouragement, she confesses.

They start dating and Lila loves that Marinette kisses the floor she steps on

This is all hidden from the class.

Lila gives the excuse that she didn’t assumed her sexuality to anyone and that she is not ready yet

Mari and Adrien are quick and comfort the Italian, telling her that she doesn't have to force herself into anything. That they loved her.

Months go by, Kagami arrives at Dupont stealing Chloe's heart and befriending Adrien

Eventually she joins the pair (adrien and marinette) bringing Chloe and Sabrina together, who apologize to Marinette

They start to hang out together as friends and Mari is happy.

This makes Lila angry, since adrinette are no longer isolated and available to her all the time.

Lila accuses Mari of not having more time for her and not loving her anymore, trying to make the girl feel guilty

Mari fearing that the same thing that happened with Alya, happens with Lila, starts to isolate herself from her friends, giving her full attention to Lila

Kagami and Chloe notices Marinette's behavior and how sad the girl looked

Marinette can't take it, and tells the four friends what had happened and that sends red lights to Kagami who starts watching Lila closely.

That’s until Chloe and Sabrina find a mistake in one of Lila’s lies and tell the fencer

And so, Kagami investigates and uncovers all Lila's lies

Including why Alya broke up with Marinette and she tells Marinette

Marinette doesn't believe in Kagami and fights with her friend, because Lila would never do that to her

So, Mari starts to avoid Kagami and Chloe and Lila celebrate with the victory

Lila warns Kagami to stay away from Marinette, because Mari was hers, thinking that the Japanese girl was interested in Mari

Kagami becomes Onii-chan, exposing Lila to Chat Noir and Ladybug

Marinette again has her heart broken and she cries on her friends' shoulders after asking for forgiveness for not believing.

She breaks up with Lila the next day when Lila is alone without the class present.

Lila tries to make the girl change her mind, blame Marinette's friends, emotional manipulation, but it's no use and Mari leaves without looking back

Lila has an outbreak of anger, but surprisingly, no butterfly appears

She tries to win Marinette back throughout the week, but the girl pretends not to see her and the group of friends was also quick to repel the Italian.

Kagami being the most brutal

With that, Lila takes personal revenge and begins to lie about Marinette and her friends

About them bullying her and harassing her.

Everyone believes in the girl and the group of friends become the outcasts of the class

Even though Lila made their lives hell, she still believed that Marinette would come back to her

The same for Alya, who still liked the girl, but treated her badly for revenge.

That is, until Lycée's graduation party takes place.

▫▪▪

The fact is: Marinette was happy.

For a while she thought it would be impossible to be happy. When you discover that the two people you loved with all your heart were two fake ones, it’s kind of makes you think that you are actually the problem.

And for a while she thought just that.

When Alya, instead of asking her to talk privately to try to understand what was going on, decided that the best time to yell at her was in the middle of the courtyard with all the students watching the show; her thoughts were that she might deserve it.

It had been humiliating, yes. She never felt so much embarrassment and hurt as she did that time. But being honest, Marinette knew that something like that could happen, since she couldn't tell her secret to Alya. It wasn't much of a shock.

She tried to convince Alya, denied it, did what she could. In the end she gave up and ran home to lick her wounds, putting on her big girl mask.

It was really a surprise that there wasn't even a butterfly. For her or Alya. No sign of akuma for an entire week.

Or later, when she found out that the girl she loved, the same one she loved the floor she stepped on, was all the time lying to her and that it was Alya's cause to break up with her.

And that in the end she became a villain almost bigger than Hawkmoth in Marinette's life; leaving her isolated, almost without friends; making up lies or accusing her of things she hadn't done. Lila tried, and in a way, managed to ruin Marinette.

She thought this was her destiny: failed and illusory relationships. No sincere and passionate romance. Kisses that wouldn't make her blood boil or her heart race. Nothing that made her weak and wobbly legs.

Marinette had broken up with Lila just six months after they started dating. She was about to turn sixteen. Alya broke up with Marinette after a year of dating, she was fifteen.

Maybe it was a curse, she thought. Since she was lucky enough to have been chosen to be a hero; loving and concerned parents; wonderful friends (all four); talent recognized by powerful people (Audrey and Gabriel).

In the same way as Ladybug and Chat Noir, if she had one side too good, the other would have to be as bad as to balance the scale.

What Tikki had firmly denied and said that Marinette just needed to be patient, that the right person for her would show up. She just needed to mature and wait for it.

Marinette tried to be positive about the words of the little goddess. Really. She really tried.

So, when she turned sixteen and Adrien announced that he and Luka were in a relationship, Marinette celebrated for her friends. She was genuinely happy for them. But when Sabrina, not even a month later, appeared hand in hand with Felix, both with red cheeks and babbling about deciding to try a relationship; Marinette broke.

She broke down and gave up.

Seeing how Chloe changed when she was with Kagami or how Felix was opening up more and more because of Sabrina, showed Marinette that she hadn't been enough for Lila. Or Alya. She was the problem.

Then she stopped.

Marinette began to focus more on studies, friends, commissions, training as a guardian and life as a hero. Not looking once for romantic relationships. And she was like that. Increasingly strong and independent, not once bowing her head to other people.

For her seventeenth birthday, Luka - who had discovered he was Jagged's son and was now living with the man - invited family and friends to celebrate at the rockstar's mansion in Gotham. Trying to keep the group away from Paris and Akumas for a while. Everyone agreed, since it was a good idea.

(Gabriel who was leaving for a business trip in New York and allowed Adrien to go with them, like a long-delayed vacation.)

And it was there that Marinette met Damian. Tall, arrogant, beautiful green eyes, olive skin, broad shoulders, defined muscles, dark hair like the night and a permanent frown as a causal expression. She felt like air was being stolen from her lungs.

The second time they kissed - the first being just a brush of lips - Damian held her tightly. His fingers sinking into the flesh of her hips, the palm leaving feverish impressions on her skin, the fullness of his cologne soaking her senses, the sharp drag of his tongue against the roof of her mouth, pulling the tiniest delightful sighs from her lungs.

Marinette had been lost in Damian. She dragged her hands through his smooth, combed hair, as if she were drugged with passion. Her nails scraping over the bare skin on the back of his neck, never wanting to let go. The sounds that escaped, Damian swallowed fervently, looking just as drunk as she did.

Marinette was weak, wobbly, her blood was like lava, her heart was beating as if it wanted to break her ribs, she was short of breath and her brain was like goo.

It was there that she gave herself over to love once again.

They returned to Paris, Luka staying in Gotham, but promising video calls and visiting when he was off tour with Jagged; Adrien was sad, but he was also the musician's greatest enthusiast.

For Marinette, leaving Gotham and, consequently, Damian, had been painful. The chaotic, disgusting thoughts about how the relationship had been only a 'summer love', but in the end it was him who insisted on continuing. Then the same promise that Luka had made to Adrien, Damian made to Marinette.

Returning to Paris was fine, but returning to Dupont had been disappointing. Somehow, Ms. Bustier's class came to believe that Chloe, Adrien, Marinette and Sabrina had been absent for a week, just to get attention and as a result, the verbal attacks became more violent. Alya and Lila being the two most aggressive.

Aurore, a few days after the group's return to Paris, had told Marinette that Alya let slip that she was dating Nino just to hurt her. As revenge for being 'unfaithful', so that Marinette would regret having deceived her.

Marinette was really sad for Nino, as he seemed to really like Alya.

Thus, a year passed in the blink of an eye and in two days, there would be the graduation party for all classes of graduates.

The first idea - coming from the teachers - was that the party would be in the American style of prom. Beautiful dresses, king and queen and all that bullshit, but all the students who were graduating refused. They wanted something different.

Hawkmoth and Mayura had been defeated, they were all graduating, all of them of age wanting to leave the lycée in style. And Chloe - as always - at the meeting with all the class representatives, offered the Moulin Rouge as a graduation party.

Everyone loved it. Well, almost everyone, since the teachers thought that a graduation party at a nightclub would be overkill; but with all the students excited about the idea and the fact that they were of age, the school allowed it.

It was three months of organization. Selling tickets to non-students, buying drinks - alcoholic and non-alcoholic -, food - since no one would be able to stand all night without eating -, talking to the club's employees, making the guest list. It was exhausting, but it only increased general anxiety.

"What do you think, bug?" Chloe was wearing a yellow sequin bodycon dress with spaghetti straps and four-inch silver strappy high heels. "Kardashian or Paris?"

Marinette chewed the strawberry in her mouth. One side of the earphone to the ear, the phone in one hand on a video call with Damian and with the other hand, she wagged her finger, asking Chloe to turn.

"Hmm, I think it would be better to choose something that you won't have to fix up every time you move around a lot." The brunette considered after Chloe turned to her again. "We are going to a nightclub to drink and dance, so I think a bodycon is not the best idea."

Chloe pouted, looking at the back of the outfit in the mirror. “But that dress makes my butt so round. 'Gami would love it.”

Marinette looked at the phone in time to see Damian raise an eyebrow at the subject, an amused gleam in his eyes. "For sure, but choose something that you will be able to dance with me because I intend to leave that club without feeling my legs."

She was biting into another strawberry when Chloe put her hands on her hips, still looking at herself in the mirror. “Watch out, bug. You spend a lot of time without feeling your legs, an hour can become dangerous.”

Marinette frowned without understanding, but the wink that Chloe sent and Damian's laughter took the confusion out of her.

"Chloe!" She took the pillow closest to her on the bed and threw it at her friend. "No sexual jokes." The blonde was laughing as she returned to the closet, easily avoiding the pillow.

"Because actions speak more than words." Damian had a small mischievous smile on his face. "And I'm a man of action."

“Oh? We'll see." Marinette threw the second and last piece of the strawberry into her mouth, chewing it slowly as she stared at the camera. "I'm looking forward to your actions, baobei."

▫▪▪

While Marinette was eager to leave the lycée and forget her classmates for good, she was also feeling salty about everything. About how Lila would get away with it, go on with life as if she hadn't fucked Marinette's entire lycée life.

On the one hand, she wanted to unmask Lila so that everyone could see how rotten the Italian was. On the other hand, she no longer cared what others thought of her, much less wanted to help them get rid of Lila's slimy claws.

There were more cons than pros and she didn't know what to do.

"Marinette, why don't you let your hair down?" Tikki flew to the girl.

"I don't know, Tikki." She took the mascara, wiping it on her lashes. "My hair is too big and I'm going to sweat." Marinette turned her face away from the mirror, studying the makeup.

She had decided to dare that night. After spending years with just mascara and gloss, Marinette had smeared black eyeshadow on her upper and lower eyelids, a little highlighter above the pink cheekbones and a pink nude lipstick.

The makeup had become a spectacle, giving it a mature look.

"Just take a ribbon to attach." The little kwami pouted and Marinette rolled her eyes affectionately. "And it will also match your outfit."

"Okay, okay. Let me fix this mane, then."

Marinette thought about wearing one of the many evening dresses she had designed before, however, considering the same advice she had given Chloe, she choose something safer.

Skinny jeans with subtle rips in thighs and knees, lace crop top with spaghetti straps and sweetheart neckline, her loyal Louboutin daf platform ankle boots. All black except for the Chanel red – synthetic – leather jacket that Damian had given her as a gift.

She opted for different jewelry this time. Tikki and the earrings would stay with Sabine, and a small, discreet pink gold earring in the shape of a ladybug took place. On the neck, the choker that matched the earrings adorned the delicate skin, as well as the ring on the finger.

"There." Marinette announced. The hair was in uneven curls, giving volume. "What do you think?" She opened her arms for Tikki to take a closer look at the choice of clothes.

She had adopted the sexy and dangerous look with praise.

"You look wonderful, Marinette!" The kwami squeaked excitedly. "Damian will love it!"

Marinette smiled excitedly. "Do you really think?!"

"She's right, my love. You look stunning.”

The two jumps in surprise at the new voice and Marinette turned in time to see Damian enter her room. Tikki soon became scarce.

"Dames!" She quickly approached her boyfriend, happiness on her expression. “When did you arrive? I didn't get late, did I?”

Damian was quick to wrap his arms around her waist, pressing the smaller body against him. There was an evil smile on his face. "I just arrived and I missed my girlfriend a lot, so I decided to show up early."

Marinette wrapped her arms around his hunched shoulders, her fingers sinking into the short hair on the back of his neck. "Good, because your girlfriend was really missing you too."

"And what does she intend to do about it?" Damian dragged his hands under the leather jacket, letting his hands roam over the bare skin on her back.

Her eyes darkened with the touch and the proximity of their faces. They hadn't seen each other for a few months since Damian had been busy joining Tim in charge of WE and that took a toll on both of them.

The hunger for touch - Damian's touch - for Marinette had become unbearably difficult to control without him around to relieve. But now he was there, so close that every slight movement of their heads resulted in their noses rubbing against each other.

And she wanted more, much more. Damian didn't seem averse to that, if the warm look was any indication.

"What do you want-" He didn't give her the chance to finish her thought, his lips firm against hers in a passionate kiss.

And Marinette gave herself up again, as anxious as she was, to get lost in their own little world. She wanted it so, so much. It was disturbing how lost in Damian she was.

"I didn't want to disturb the love birds, but they are all waiting in the limo." The two of them reluctantly moved away.

Both were panting, Damian's lips red and damp with lipstick marks on his skin, his hair ruffled by Marinette's fingers; she was no different, lipstick had smeared the skin around her mouth, her lips were red and her eyes were blurry.

Adrien had been the one to interrupt the two, still standing on the stairs and leaning on the bedroom floor as if watching a very interesting movie. He had a mischievous smile on his face.

Damian sighed, regaining consciousness, frowning at being interrupted.

"Sometimes you are a pain in the ass, Agreste." He grunted as he helped Marinette adjust her clothes.

"And you still love me." Adrien showed his tongue in retaliation. “Don't forget to clean that lipstick stain. You know that if Jason and Tim see it, they won't be talking about anything for a week.”

“Thank you, Adrien. We will be leaving soon!” Marinette replied before Damian said something rude and dragged her boyfriend over so she could wipe his face with makeup remover.

The model took no more time in the room and went down.

"I think it's best not to apply lipstick again." Damian leaned against the dresser, arms crossed over his chest, watching Marinette fix her smudged makeup.

Her hand faltered over the lipstick tubes with his comment, rethinking the options, and decided to pick a strawberry chapstick.

"I don't think you're going to care about the artificial strawberry taste, are you?" She winked at Damian boldly and took a second look at what he was wearing.

"Not at all. Now let's go, before Chloe comes for us.” And he pulled her into the hatch on the floor.

The girl was so distracted by his presence that she hadn't even paid attention to what he was wearing. And she approved the choice of the set.

Damian wore a gray v-neck t-shirt folded inside his black slim fit pants - without a belt -; over the shirt, a graphite blazer folded below the elbows to show the inner print of the piece; polished black shoes on the feet.

And she thought seeing him in a three-piece suit was surprising.

They left the house without much fanfare. Sabine and Tom sitting on the couch with Tikki and Plagg watching some old movie on TV just waved their hands, telling them to have fun and call if they needed anything.

Chloe's limo was parked right next to the bakery exit. Luka leaning against the open door, talking to Félix and Jason.

Félix had - surprisingly - left his ties and waistcoats in the closet this time. Wearing a rare gray polo shirt, regular cut black jeans with leather belt and on his feet, Gucci loafers. Only the hairstyle remained the same, as he and Damian were two people who breathed hair gel.

Jason hadn't changed much. All in black, regular pants looking well-worn on his knees, combat boots, Henley with open buttons and a leather jacket. Hair looking much wilder than on a normal day.

Luka, on the other hand, wore almost the same as Jason. The differences were that Luka did not have a leather jacket, his shirt was a white button down and was wrapped around his forearms and his pants were leather. But that was not what caught Marinette's attention about her friend.

It was the first time she had seen Luka in person in months (almost a year) and she learned from Adrien, that he had adopted a new haircut and that he had gotten some tattoos. But she didn't think he would have both arms full with complex designs and colors.

His hair was short on the sides and nape, the natural tone left untouched in the shaved parts. With longer top totally dyed blue. She was able to see that there were more piercings in the ears, a dark ring on the nose and a black plug in each ear.

"Hey, guys! Sorry we are late." Marinette smiled at their friends who had stopped talking to look at them.

"Good night, Mari."

"Bugnette, what's up!"

"Ma-Marinette, your music is still fantastic."

"Luka, you're total rock 'n roll! Jagged must be proud.” She commented.

"I liked the Red Hood style, Bugnette." Jason pointed out the similarities.

"It would be interesting to see Red Hood kicking ass on a six-inch platform heel." Felix looked at Jason, considering.

"There is an image that I would rather not have in my head." Damian groaned as if in pain.

Jason opened his mouth to probably swear at his friends and brother, but was interrupted by Chloe, who came out of the limo snorting in irritation.

“Can you guys get in soon? I want to make a dramatic entrance and you are getting in the way!”

“Wow, Chlo. You are wonderful." Marinette ignored her friend's angry snort, preferring to look at the clothes the girl was wearing.

"Of course. I am always wonderful.” Posing with hands on hips.

Chloe's outfit was not the most outrageous outfit she had ever worn before. They were simple pieces, but together they made a fatal set.

She wore a black satin top with spaghetti straps, folded into a white high-waisted mini shorts, on the legs, four-inch black over the knee boots - Tom Ford's lace-up nappa she loved - and on the neck there were two chokers: the broadest was white with black print and the thinest was leather decorated with crystals; plus a gold necklace with bee pendant.

Her hair was in a messy ponytail and her makeup was simple; black eyeliner, shadow on the eyelids was a sparkling metallic - yet soft - there was a lovely pink on the cheekbones and her lipstick was nude.

"I'm getting more and more excited about it all." Marinette murmured, an evil smile on her face.

Chloe winked at her friend, having the same thoughts as her. "Come on suckers!"

▫▪▪

When they arrived at the club street, there was a considerable line at the entrance for people who had bought tickets; but as Sabrina, Adrien, Chloe, Marinette and Kagami were students, they were entitled to VIP entrance and could take two guests each.

"That's a lot people." Adrien commented sitting next to Luka and Chloe.

He wore an oversized pastel pink button-down shirt; the last three buttons open with the left end folded into the slim fit light blue denim pants. On the feet, off-white converse with white socks.

The hair, which he had let it grow - not too long, just long enough for a little ponytail - was parted on the side and messy, two kitten clips holding the right side of the bangs, while the left side fell textured over the eye.

"I see Nath and Marc from your class coming." Kagami lays a finger on the window, showing the two boys to enter.

She wore a pleated red peplum off-shoulder knit top, black leather pants with golden zippers on both sides; and on the feet, six-inch silver gold peep toe platform high heels.

Her hair, now in a pixie cut, had her bangs pushed aside. The makeup, she just had a thick black eyeliner on her eyes, ruby lipstick on her lips and minimal blush. Accessories include a pair of diamond earrings.

"Aurore and Claude too." Sabrina replied. That night, she had left her glasses at home, opting for contact lenses.

Sabrina opted for a black backless bodysuit with spaghetti straps, a pleated two-tiered skirt with the first being gold sequin and the second layer was peach tulle. On the feet, five-inch black lace up bandage high heels.

Red hair in a French bob, with loose curls and messy bangs. A silver necklace with a fox pendant around her neck. The makeup the same as Kagami's, changing only the color of the lipstick, which was a wine purple.

"Everyone has arrived." Jason says, his eyes glued to the phone.

"Everyone?" Marinette asks, eyebrow raised.

"Yeah..." He looks up, feeling the sharp edge.

"Everyone who?" Damian asked, already knowing the answer to that question.

"You know..." Jason looks away before speaking again. “Artemis, Dick, Kori, Tim, Conner, Cass, Steph, Babs, Duke and Jon. Bruce and Selina didn't come because Helena cried every time they put her in the crib.”

Damian grunted and Marinette laughed, incredulous. Luka and Adrien were out of breath from laughing.

"My god, the entire Wayne family under one roof..." Félix gasped in horror.

"If Paris remains whole tomorrow, I will ask my father to declare a holiday." Chloe joked.

"Okay, I think we better get in soon because this is getting weird here." Marinette opened the limo door and let out a breath.

It was now or never.

▫▪▪

Lila was ready. This was the last chance she would have to mess with Marinette, before everyone followed the path of adulthood with colleges and jobs.

Was she a little obsessive? Yes. She would not deny it. But there was something about Marinette. Something that she couldn't name, that made her waste hours of the day thinking about her; feeling angry that the girl broke up with her and never looked twice at Lila again.

She simply pretended that the Italian did not exist, regardless of the lie that Lila told or accused her, Marinette did not even blink in her direction and that left her burning with frustration, a bitter taste in her mouth.

When Marinette broke up with her, the first thing she thought was that it was Alya's doing, but she soon gave up on the idea since Alya was her most loyal follower and didn't know about Lila and Marinette's relationship.

But she knew that Marinette would not have found it out on her own, that she had help and that the person who had done it would pay. It was only when she noticed Kagami's murderous looks that everything fell into place and she tried.

Lila tried so hard to ruin Kagami Tsurugi's life. At school, at home, with the girl's fencing partners. Everything. But somehow Kagami was untouchable.

So, she went around, attacking Chloe with gossip around the school, accusing Marinette of bullying, telling everyone that Adrien was gay, throwing suggestions to Sabrina's stupid father; everything she could do she did and in a way, she got some results, but nothing significant.

Not even when Lila talked – lied - about lovers or high society ex-lovers like Damian Wayne, Peter Stark, Princess Shuri to make the girl jealous, Marinette reacted.

It was frustrating. Marinette getting further and further away from her control, the days and months passing, the anger rising. But she had everything ready for that night.

Lila would recover what was hers for better or for worse.

Nino choked on his drink and coughed violently, drawing her attention.

"You're right, man?!" Kim asked worriedly as he hit the DJ on the back.

The whole class was sitting in a discreet corner of the club that filled up more with each passing minute, so the boy was soon surrounded by concerned colleagues.

Lila tried not to roll her eyes in annoyance.

Nino inhaled the air trying to compose himself, his outstretched arm pointing to a somewhere in the club. "Ma-MA"

Alya frowned in confusion before following the direction with her eyes, where Nino pointed. The reaction she had was almost identical to Nino.

"MARINETTE?!" She screamed; the club's music drowning out, but the class was able to hear without a problem as they were close.

Lila felt a sharp pain and burning in the back of her neck from the speed that she turned her head, but it didn't matter. With ‘Marinette, Marinette, Marinette’ singing in her mind, she rested her eyes on the sight of the gods.

There she was. Sin itself. Lila felt her mouth dry, feeling deeply dehydrated.

She had other people with her, but the Italian had eyes only for Marinette. For the way the pants hugged the curves like a glove, the contrast of red and black against the alabaster skin, the sudden ability to walk in heels.

The loose hair that she never showed anyone, just for Lila, but now everyone was seeing.

"Wow, Marinette looks beautiful." Alix sighed.

"I didn't know Sabrina could look like this..." Max commented back.

"Chloe looks beautiful, too." Kim's cheeks were flushed.

"... Mari..." Alya said again, her eyes glassy, unaware of Nino's grimace.

Lila felt her anger burn again.

Everyone was looking at Marinette. Everyone was coveting what was hers.

She swallowed the rest of the gin violently before placing the glass on the table and walked to the dance floor.

Tonight, Marinette would look at her, only at her.

▫▪▪

Meeting Damian's family on the sofas in the VIP area of the Moulin Rouge had been quite a scene, since the group of heroes - and vigilantes - attracted a lot of attention, even though they were doing nothing but talking and drinking.

Artemis and Kori, two tall and strong women, wearing simple clothes: Kori with a black lace trimmed silk satin mini dress accompanied by black shorts, and on her feet, four-inch open toe pump noir from Visage; Artemis, on the other hand, was more comfortable with blue ripped skinny jeans, a transparent black button-down blouse - a lace bralette underneath - and on the feet, Jeffrey Campbell's four-inch rodillo-hi wedge sandal.

Babs was also tall, but not quite as tall as the other two. She was wearing a scribbled multicolored Jeremy Scott mini dress and red YSL stilettos opyum 110 on her feet. Cass was the most casual, all in black wearing a black t-shirt with sleeves wrapped around her shoulders, denim and converse Chuck Taylor.

Steph was wearing a black Prada technical nylon jumpsuit with black Oxford heels and Marinette was never so proud.

She succeeded in just a year, making them understand that jeans and hoodies were not the solution for everything. Only Cass who was still fighting her, but Marinette was nothing but persistent. She was going to make it.

From the boys, there was not much difference from the ones she had seen before. All between Félix and Luka. Which was disappointing, honestly.

They were all sitting, talking and drinking, Jon had disappeared with Mirelle in the middle of the dance floor and Tim had gone to the bathroom when Adrien jumped off Luka's lap.

"I love this song!" He shouted excitedly. "We have to go!" He took Marinette and Chloe's hand, pulling both without thinking twice.

Chloe laughed excitedly, turning quickly just to wave goodbye to Kagami and Marinette blew a kiss to Damian who leaned back against the couch, relaxing to watch the girl.

They had to push some people out of the way to get a good space, but soon they were dancing.

‘Why do we keep when the water runs? Why do we love if we're so mistaken?’ Adrien sang for both of them, arms up as he moved his hips.

‘Why do we leave when the chase is done? Don't search me in here, I'm already gone, baby’ Chloe sings back shaking her head while tossing her ponytail over her shoulder.

‘Why do we keep when the water runs? Why do we love?’ Marinette shrugged to take off her jacket and do a slow body roll. The sharp and sensual hips.

She looked over her shoulder, catching Damian's eye across the dance floor. He smiled; his eyes dark. Tim catches the change and laughs hard. Damian looks at his brother, his expression irritated.

Marinette dances again with her friends, putting her jacket back on her shoulders, getting lost in the music. Feeling the melody vibrate under the skin. Dancing was really wonderful.

The three of them stayed on the dance floor for what seemed like hours. Jumping, singing or just playing with each other. At one point, Sabrina joined them, but she didn't stay long.

Adrien was flushed from the effort; Chloe had a wet neck and Marinette was scalding in that leather jacket. That's when they decided to stop and go back to their table.

Chloe and Adrien were quick to sit on the plush seats, leaving only Damian's lap free for her to sit on, which she didn't hesitate to do.

"Hey, big boy." She wrapped her arms around his neck. "You come here often?"

Damian hugged her waist. "No, but if you want, I can come." He kissed her neck, his arm stretched out on the table to pick up the water bottle. "But first you have to drink water and take that jacket off to cool off."

She made a face, but didn't complained when she took off her jacket - which Damian threw on the table - and took the water from his hand. She managed to drain the bottle without having to stop to breathe, the thirst she hadn't noticed, calmed.

“Water has never tasted as good as it does today. Wow." She sighed in delight.

"I know something much better." Damian whispered in her ear and lowered his head to place a kiss on the back of her neck, enjoying the goosebumps.

"D-"

"If you guys stop flirting for a moment and pay attention to me, I would appreciate it." Adrien caught their attention.

"Agreste." Damian growled as he pulled his mouth away from her skin. “This is the second time today. Second."

Luka laughed at his friend, blinking slowly. “Easy Wayne. He just wanted Marinette to see that.” He pointed discreetly at the dance floor.

Dance floor where Alya and Lila danced against each other, trying to sensualize. Trying was the key word, since Lila didn't seem to know what she was doing. But the worst was not them trying to sensualize, but trying and, on top of that, looking at Marinette waiting for a reaction.

"Do they really think this is going to work?" Sabrina asked really surprised.

"I wish I could unsee it. Jesus." Felix grunted.

"They can be worse than Tim." Dick stifled his laughter in Kori's dress and she stroked his hair.

"It's like a live trainwreck." Kagami had a glass of whiskey in her hand, trying to hide her laughter.

"This is disturbing." Jason raised his eyebrow at Alya twerking. "Very disturbing." He was sitting on Artemis's lap, his eyes barely open, almost asleep.

"I should sue them for this." Chloe was extremely irritated.

"Think on the bright side: at least they haven't started-" Damian raised his eyebrow, before rolling his eyes. "Forget what I was going to say."

"They really are- oh my god." Marinette put her hands on her face in disbelief.

Lila and Alya were kissing. Kissing in a very obscene way, if Marinette could add.

"Guys, this is worse than I expected." Cassandra commented without emotion. A beer in her right hand and her left arm on Stephanie's shoulders.

Marinette was not really believing the general situation of what was happening. Of course, she imagined that Lila would try some of her irritating plans to humiliate her in front of everyone, but she didn't think that Lila would be allying herself with Alya in such a rude way.

For God’s sake! Alya had a boyfriend and even though she didn't really like Nino, she should at least respect him. Nino was not a bad guy, perhaps too innocent for falling for the lies of the two girls, but he was still kind and fun. Quite honest.

Seeing Alya simply dismissing his feelings as if it was nothing, made Marinette disgusted.

If she still liked either girl, that would be the moment when the feeling would end.

"I feel so bad for her boyfriend." Steph said pointing to a dark corner on the other side of the club, where Nino looked devastated.

Marinette felt her anger burn at the sight.

She had arrived at the club determined to do nothing against Lila or Alya, but that changed when she saw Nino looking so heartbroken.

Those two would pay for thinking only of themselves.

Marinette turned to her friends, the miraculous team, with a stormy expression. “Bee, Cat and Fox-” Chloe, Adrien and Sabrina straightened up, their eyes hardening. "I have a plan and I think you will like it." She smiled like the devil, the three showing equal smiles.

"What about me, Mari-hime?" Kagami asked, eager to help.

"You and everyone are going to sit here and watch."

Damian squeezed her waist, reaching for her ear again.

"I love it when you look like this. Ready to bite heads off."

Marinette turned her face only to place an innocent kiss on his lips, before moving away to Damian's ear.

"Then you will love even more what I am about to do." And she bit the lobe of his ear, pausing only to appreciate the way his fingers dug into the bare skin of her waist, before getting up.

"Now if you guys excuse us, we have a show to do."

▫▪▪

Lila was about to open her mouth again to deepen the kiss with Alya, when the music was abruptly cut off and everyone started booing.

"Sorry! Sorry!" The DJ - Allan from Mr. Dubois' class - said into the microphone. "I know you want to keep dancing, but a very peculiar request came and I thought you would love it."

She looked at the spot where Marinette had been sitting - sitting on the lap of a man Lila had never seen before - but did not find the girl. Only Tsurugi and Couffaine were still sitting there with the strange friends. None of Marinette's other three minions were there.

The man who had been with Marinette before noticed Lila's gaze and raised an eyebrow in defiance and she had to look away back to the DJ booth.

"What do you think of a live show?" Allan asked, getting excited by the enthusiasm of the audience. "Great, great- because I have four friends here who want the high point of the night!"

Lila had a really bad feeling about what was about to happen.

He turned back, waving to the people in the back and when they reached the light, Lila's heart dropped to her stomach.

Marinette, Chloe, Sabrina and Adrien were smiling like a cat that ate the canary while waving to everyone.

"You must recognize them: Adrien Agreste, Sabrina Raincomprix, Chloe Bourgeois and Marinette Dupain-Cheng, from Ms. Bustier's class!" Everyone shouted excitedly. "The stage is all yours." He said to them when he handed the microphone to Marinette.

Adrien, Chloe and Sabrina already had microphones in their hands.

The melody started and Marinette, along with the three of them, headed for the stairs that led to the dance floor. The light following in their footsteps.

La-la, la-la, la

They leaned against the railing, posing. Marinette first, Adrien behind her, Sabrina next and Chloe at the top.

Yeah, it's been a long night and the mirror's telling me to go home (go home)

Marinette started to sing, her voice rocking everyone in the club watching her and the three friends doing backing vocals.

But it's been a long time since I felt this good on my own (uh)

She ran a hand over her bare belly before going up to her hair, pushing it out of the way. Marinette was breathtaking.

Lotta years went by With my hands tied up in your ropes (your ropes) Forever and ever, no more (no more)

Marinette rocked her hips to the side, shaking her head in denial and the other three did the same, but Lila's focus was only on Dupain-Cheng.

The midnight sky is the road I'm takin' Head high up in the clouds (oh, oh)

Her voice came raw, sensual. She slid while holding the railing of the stairs, never failing to move her hips. A wild glow in the eye.

I was born to run, I don't belong to anyone, oh no Don't need to be loved by you (by you)

She got up and the four started to sing together in what looked like the chorus.

Fire in my lungs Can't bite the Devil on my tongue, oh no Don't need to be loved by you

They started down the stairs slowly, still dancing to the melody of the song.

See my lips on her mouth Everybody's talkin' now, baby Ooh, you know it's true (yeah, yeah)

It was then that Marinette, for the first time in months, looked directly at Lila. To Lila and Alya, who was shaking next to the Italian.

That I was born to run, I don't belong to anyone, oh no Don't need to be loved by you (loved by you)

She raised her hand and with her finger, signaled a 'no' before winking at them and looking away again. Lila was having trouble assimilating everything.

La-la, la-la, la

They reached the dance floor, everybody making room.

She got her hair pulled back 'Cause the sweat's drippin' off of her face (her face) Said, "It ain't so bad if I wanna make a couple mistakes"

Side by side, they waved their hands in front of their faces as if they were hot.

You should know right now that I never stayed put in one place Forever and ever, no more (no more)

They started to walk in a circle, looking at each person around them and smiling.

Marinette took the lead again.

The midnight sky is the road I'm takin' Head high up in the clouds (oh, oh)

Her voice was raw, resonating through Lila's body like a charm.

I was born to run, I don't belong to anyone, oh no Don't need to be loved by you (by you)

The four returned to stand side by side, to sing together.

Fire in my lungs Can't bite the Devil on my tongue, oh no Don't need to be loved by you

Adrien turned to Chloe and Marinette turned to Sabrina, her back to Adrien. They approached, so close that any mistakes Marinette and Sabrina could bump each other's mouths.

See my lips on her mouth Everybody's talkin' now, baby Ooh, you know it's true (yeah)

Lila felt the hatred burn in the pit of her stomach, disgusted by the intimacy that Sabrina - the same girl who had scorned everyone with Chloe for years - had with Marinette, while she only had a quick look and worst, she had to share with Alya.

That I was born to run, I don't belong to anyone, oh no Don't need to be loved by you (by you)

They moved away from each other and started walking on the dance floor, messing with people. Marinette getting closer and closer to her.

Until she stopped in front of Lila.

Oh I don't hide, blurry eyes like you

And sang to her. Directly to her. Marinette inches from her. If Lila reached out, she could touch Mari's skin again.

Like you

Marinette looked up at someone - Alya - behind her for a moment, before leaving again.

The meaning in the letter does not go unnoticed by either.

I was born to run, I don't belong to anyone, oh no I don't need to be loved by you (by you)

They walked on the dance floor again singing and dancing together.

Fire in my lungs Can't bite the Devil on my tongue, oh no Don't need to be loved by you

Marinette approached someone, the same guy as before, the one she was sitting on the lap. He was a few people away from Lila, but even with the distance, she was able to see the way his eyes were dark with possessiveness.

He advanced, being pulled by Marinette, before she turned her back to him making him embrace her.

See his hands 'round my waist Thought you never be replaced, baby Ooh, you know it's true (yeah)

Lila saw his hands go over Marinette's hips, the comfortable way he hid his face in her neck and the swing of her hips against his. As if it were normal for them.

Jealousy was burning again in Lila's chest.

That I was born to run, I don't belong to anyone, oh no Don't need to be loved by you (yeah)

Marinette looked up, meeting Lila's. The lyrics of the song were like a knife in her skin.

La-la, la-la, la, la-la

She saw Marinette turn around in his arms and kiss him. Slowly and deeply, completely oblivious to the screams of the audience.

You know it's true, you know it's true Loved by you

The others finished singing the song and with the end of the song, the hope that Marinette would return to her died.

But Lila would make her regret that.

▫▪▪

"MARI, I DIDN'T KNOW YOU COULD SING!" Kori shouted over the applause.

"I didn't know the three of you sang." Conner commented in surprise.

"I think everything they do comes out well." Jon snorted.

"Thanks, guys." Marinette laughed sheepishly. It was still difficult to receive so much praise.

"You sang like a Rockstar, Bugnette." Jason raised his hand and she hit a hi-five.

"That's why I always invite her to be part of my music." Luka laughed; arms wrapped around Adrien.

"Damian doesn't seem happy about it at all." Tim commented, looking at his sullen brother.

"Oh no. He's like that because you interrupted us four times tonight.” Marinette replied.

"I'm surprised he hasn't tried to kill us yet." Dick laughed.

After the group of friends finished singing, they were approached by friends excited by the show. Damian getting annoyed at being interrupted for the third time that night.

Chloe had kissed Kagami, Adrien jumped into Luka's arms, Sabrina and Félix having a moment; but when Damian tried to monopolize Marinette, his family appeared to interrupt them.

"It’s because I’m without my katana here, otherwise I would have already killed you."

"Uh-oh here comes trouble." Adrien looked over Marinette's shoulder and she feared what it was about, but she turned nonetheless.

And for sure. There was a problem.

Alya, Lila and the entire class, even a constipated-looking Nino, walking up to them.

"And here they come wanting to be humiliated again." Sabrina shook her head in disbelief.

When the class reached them, Marinette was able to notice Alya's murderous look at Damian, as Lila had a smug smile on her face and Nathaniel's apologetic look.

"Good night, Marinette." Lila greeted, the fake sweet tone already taking Mari's patience.

"So, it's him, huh." Alya snarled, Nino looked like he was about to cry.

"He...?" Damian frowned.

"You must be Marinette's boyfriend." Lila doesn’t answer the unspoken question. "My name is Lila Rossi; it is a pleasure to finally meet you." She raised her hand to him, but he didn't react. Still looking at the group with contempt.

"Damian." He replied dryly.

The two had a silent dispute to face.

"Ah- hi, Juleka!" Adrien waved at the girl and she looked away, refusing to wave back. Luka had a sad gleam in his eyes.

Juleka was not part of the group of people who attacked them verbally, but she also remained neutral, since Rose really believed in the bullshit that Lila told. She didn't want to become a pariah of the class like Marinette, and it hit the Couffaine siblings hard.

Which got worse with the discovery that Jagged was Luka's father and that Luka was leaving Kitty Section to live with him in Gotham.

Juleka never forgave him for it and blamed Adrien for supporting Luka's departure

"So, it was with you that Marinette cheated on Alya, huh." Alix said without caring about anything.

"You aren’t that great." Kim looked analytically at Damian and Marinette felt Damian exhale heavily.

"Who said that?" Marinette asked Alix.

Ivan raised an eyebrow at her. "It's common knowledge that you cheated on Alya, Marinette."

"Don't act innocent!" Alya shouted. "I can't believe you exchanged a year of relationship to be with this... ugh."

Chloe stepped forward to defend her friends, but Marinette stopped her.

"Alya, whether you believe it or not, I never cheated on you." She said calmly.

Alya scoffed. "It seems to me that you got over it really fast, since you were exchanging spit with this one."

Marinette blew out an incredulous breath. “We broke up almost three years ago, Alya. Did you really think I was going to be single forever?”

Max frowned upset. "People who can't stay faithful shouldn't be dating."

"I agree with you, Max. I'm glad I was never unfaithful." Marinette responded as calmly as she could at that moment.

"You should have more compassion for other people, Marinette." Lila decided to get involved. "Knowing that Alya would be hurt to see you being cozy with your... boyfriend." A false expression of concern on her face.

She looked at the Italian, her face blank. Lila hadn't noticed the opening she left for Marinette.

"What are you talking about, Lila?" She asked, confusion on her face. "You didn't seem concerned about Alya when we dated for six months after she broke up with me."

Alya turned to face Lila, surprised by Marinette's words. The class was in the same state.

"What are you talking about, Marinette?" Rose asked, shock clear in her expression.

“Lila, after Alya broke up with me, came to me offering a shoulder to cry. She stayed by my side while I tried to forget about Alya and in the end, we started dating.”

"YOU WHAT?!" Alya snarled.

Marinette tilted her head. "I thought you told them, Lila."

Lila's eyes were wide, not knowing what to say.

“But why would Lila date you, if she was the one who said you were cheating on Alya? It doesn't make sense.” Nino pointed.

"Maybe because Marinette never cheated on Alya and Lila lied to you about everything." Felix replied.

Alya shook her head in denial. "This has to be a lie, because if it's true..."

"... If true, you broke up with your girlfriend just so that Lila would have the opportunity to date her." Nathaniel commented, a devilish smile on his lips.

"It's a lie, guys!" Lila shouted. "She's just saying that to mess you!"

Alya stopped shaking her head, considering Lila's words.

"I have proof." Marinette said and Lila stiffened. “But it doesn't matter anymore. Today is the last day I have to see you, so it makes no difference whether you believe me or not.”

"Last day?" Lila asked curiously.

"Yeah. I'm going to live in Gotham with these losers here.” And he pointed to the batfam, superboys - even if they were from Metropolis -, alien, amazon and the miraculous team behind her. "Today is our farewell." She shrugged.

"Oh." Alya sighed.

Lila didn't like what she heard. Angry again.

"So what? You are leaving just like this? Are you going to leave me to live with this nobody?! "

Damian snarled. "What did you call me?!"

"Damian." Marinette said and he stepped back. “And yes, Lila. I will leave just like this. I owe you no satisfaction from what I do or don't do. You decided to lie to me and I decided that you would not be part of it.”

She picked up the jacket on the table and took Damian's hand. The party was over for her.

“I grew up and you should do the same. Goodbye."

Deciding to leave as soon as possible, Marinette did not wait for Lila's answer and pulled Damian away.

She was an adult now; teenage intrigues were no longer part of her daily life.

When the two reached the Moulin Rouge's sidewalk, Marinette turned to Damian.

"So, how about a tour in your hotel room?" She winked at him.

Damian smiled beatifically. "I thought you'd never ask."

Tikki was right. Waiting was worth it.

BONUS #1:

"Hey, Damian did you saw Ma- oh"

“Okay, this is it. Run Agreste.”

"But-"

"Shut up and run."

"..."

"...!"

"LUKA HELP ME!!!"

BONUS #2:

Marinette picked up the phone, noting that there were two voicemail notifications.

She was surprised, since everyone who had that number was in the gardens enjoying Alfred's birthday party.

Marinette put the phone to her ear, curiosity eating at her.

"Hello, Mari?" She inhaled hard. How did Alya get her phone number? “Hi, it's me Alya, Alya Césaire. Hah of course you know who I am... You, uh, must be wondering how I got your number... I got it from Nathaniel. Don't be mad at him, please! I needed to talk to you, but it's like you moved to Narnia. You probably blocked me, hah.”

She felt tears prick her eyes. As much as Marinette held a grudge against Alya, she still missed the friendship they shared and hearing her voice like that was like putting salt in the wound.

“Mari- Marinette. I wanted to apologize. I'm sorry for everything.” Tears falling freely. “I know that just words won't undo everything I did or said to you, but I needed you to know that I regret everything. I loved you, I still love you, but I see that feeling has rotted and blossomed into the worst of me. You didn't deserve anything that we did for you. I want you to understand that I was stupid, childish and did not weigh the consequences of my actions, but that I am trying to improve-“ The signal for the end of the voicemail rang and Marinette immediately clicked on the second message.

“Sorry, I reached the time limit. Hah. After that night at the club, I came home and thought about everything a lot. Nino has been helping me daily and- I'm grateful Mari, because Nino was kind enough to forgive me for what I did. I think I'm really falling in love with him now that I'm not blinded by meanness. Lila is no longer in Paris. I may have... left some videos at the Italian embassy for her mother to see and even if she is of age, some things would be really harmful for Ms. Rossi at the embassy, so the two left Paris. The last thing I heard was that she was arrested for stalking a girl from university she was attending. Anyway. I thank Mari, for being my best friend, my girlfriend. I love you. Bye." The finishing beep rang again and Marinette put the phone down.

The tears came down salty, wetting the beautiful fabric of her summer dress. She felt light, relieved as if a heavy weight had been lifted off her shoulders.

Marinette knew it would take her a while to actually talk to Alya, but deep down she knew she had already forgiven the girl for everything.

"Mari?" She heard Damian's voice and the silent footsteps on the wooden floor.

She quickly wiped away her tears, trying to compose herself. "I'm here, Dames."

He entered the room worried. Her voice seemed unsteady. "Hey-" Damian stopped, observing the state she was in and ran to her side on the bed. "What happened, habibit?"

Marinette pressed her forehead against his, a shy smile on her lips. "I'm fine, love." Damian put his arm around her, pulling the girl onto his lap. "Really. I'm fine. No need to worry."

Damian kissed her lips tenderly. "Of course I worry. I will always worry about you.”

She pulled him in again for a kiss. Longer, but no less sweet.

"I love you, Damian Wayne."

"I love you, Marinette Dupain-Cheng."

#one shots #daminette #maribat #lukadrien #chlogami #felix x sabrina #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #luka couffaine #chloe bourgeois #Kagami Tsurugi #sabrina raincomprix #ml felix #ml salt #lila rossi salt #lila bashing #alya redemption #miraculous ladybug #ml x dc

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cryoculus · 3 years

Text

oddity - xiao/reader

one of my closest pals is celebrating their birthday, and i took it upon myself to write a little lantern rite piece! i don't usually post my stuff on tumblr, but it wouldn't hurt to try ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

pairing: xiao/gn!reader word count: 3,549 words premise: you and him are nothing but outsiders beneath the sea of lanterns — that’s all there is to it. ao3 link here!

“Traveler, what brings you here?”

The wind whistles through the reeds of Dihua Marsh when you hear his voice. The yaksha emerges from the shadows that cloak his form, piercing yellow eyes studying you with rapt attention. Your chest heaves as your sword glimmers out of existence before wiping a sheen of sweat off your brow. A smile graces your face — one that makes him arch an eyebrow.

“Xiao,” you acknowledge him with a nod. “Just clearing out hilichurl camps for a commission.”

“And your friend?” he asks, arms crossed. “The loud one that floats around?”

You immediately think about how quick Paimon ditched your daily commissions just to get a head-start with the festivities down at the harbor. You didn’t particularly mind the fairy’s excitement, but it was a little lonely without her squawks of encouragement as you shilled monster after monster for the sake of scraping up some mora. But the peace of mind offered by Paimon’s absence is something you liked to indulge in every once in a while as well. Instances like this could bring about new experiences.

Such as running into the Vigilant Yaksha himself, for example.

“Paimon’s gotten quite engrossed with the Lantern Rite.” A lone sigh flees from your lips as you your gaze rivets upward. South from here, the lanterns offered to heavens can be still seen — even all the way in Bishui Plain. They dot the sky even brighter than the stars, burning through the darkness of the night so the heroes could find their way home.

Somewhere much nearer is Wangshu Inn, its massive tree rising above the fog that began to roll in come sundown. You aren’t too far from his stronghold, but what reason does Xiao have to crawl out of his seemingly-eternal solitude? Last you’ve seen him was during that whole Starsnatcher fiasco, and you didn’t think you would cross paths again so soon. But the curious glow of his eyes — devoid of the indifference he’s worn like armor — tickles the back of your head.

If you’re able to…could you try to convince Xiao to go with you?

Right. Verr Goldet asked that specific favor the last time Huai’an commissioned you to repair the Inn’s rickety staircase (again). You took her request without a second thought, despite being wholly unsure of how you’re even going to drag an adeptus back to Liyue Harbor. Though the rift between the land’s guardians and its people has long been mended, Xiao’s hostility wouldn’t be so easily quelled. But it’s as if the stars have guided your fates to intertwine tonight — holding each other’s prudent gazes as you both waited for the other to speak.

Xiao is the first to break the silence.

“I see,” he murmurs, resting his back against a sturdy tree. He draws his eyes up for only a moment before meeting yours once more. “Don’t you have a festival to celebrate, Traveler? If my memory serves me right, there’s only a few hours left before they release those pyro flowers into the sky. It’s…a popular spectacle among humans.”

You crane your head slightly, not quite catching his drift. Pyro flowers? A popular spectacle among…

“You mean fireworks?” you snort.

“Yes, whatever those are.” Though his face doesn’t bear any hint of being flustered, the tips of Xiao’s ears turn the lightest tinge of red — barely visible in the lacking light, but you see it regardless. The yaksha mumbles something under his breath before saying, “I assume a lot of people await your return. What are you doing squandering your time here in the marsh, then?”

If Paimon were here, she would have swooped in and taken this as her one and only chance to make good on your unspoken promise to Verr Goldet. Even in the absence of your floating companion, you begin to consider your chances as well. It’s not like you assured the brooding adeptus would be present during the Rite. Just that you’d try to make sure he was there.

And try, you did when you ask, “I was wondering if you’d want to come along, actually.”

You’re more than aware how…forward your invitation just sounded, but it’s not like you minded whatever answer he’s going to give you. In all honesty, it’d be easier if he rejected the offer and went on his way — doing whatever retired adepti do with their thousand years’ worth of free time. But as you steel yourself for his typical, cold-hearted dismissal, Xiao tilts his chin in the direction of the lanterns released en-masse in the south, gaze softening with a tenderness that’s all sorts of foreign to you.

“I suppose I can spare a few hours.”

The lights down the docks seem a little too bright, and the jovial music rings a little too loudly when you’re conscious of an introverted companion. Xiao’s aversion to human interaction is no secret to anyone, but the adeptus manages to play it cool as you wade across a throng of festival-goers. He flinches a little when strangers bump into him, but does nothing to antagonize them. (Although you do hear the slightest hint of a growl when the stranger in question doesn’t apologize for the inconvenience.) Nonetheless, you make sure to hover around close to make sure you don’t lose him in the crowd.

You consider holding his hand for but a sliver of a moment before chucking the idea out of the window. Xiao would probably hurl you into the next world if you touched him unsolicited, and the mere thought sends an unpleasant shiver down your spine.

It doesn’t take long for you to spot Paimon in the midst of it all — wearing one of those peace talismans around her neck as she nibbled on a stick of grilled tiger fish. The fairy perks up at the sight of you, but she nearly gapes when she sees who it is on your trail.

“You managed to drag that loner here?!” she shrieks, but the shock in her voice was thankfully obscured by the loud music. “How much almond tofu did you give him? Paimon bets it takes an army to make enough almond tofu to convince him to go out of hiding!”

“No such coercion happened for them to bring me here,” Xiao clarifies. “I simply want to witness how things have been faring in the harbor since Rex Lapis’ departure. Hmph. Humans still do so much all in the name of traditions that have long lost their meaning.”

Paimon gasps, as if personally offended. “Lost their meaning…? You! You have no idea how important the Lantern Rite is to Liyue Harbor’s citizens, do you? Come on, Traveler!” The fairy huffs, tugging on your arm insistently. “Let’s enjoy the rest of the festival without the immortal party pooper.”

You gulp. “Paimon—”

“Honorary taste-tester, there you are!”

The familiar lilt of Xiangling’s voice pierces through the deafening melodies of the Rite. She bounds towards your little group with a devious smile curled across her lip — eyes shining with enough intent to scare you. Paimon is a bit more oblivious to the young chef’s intentions. Your companion even greets her once she was close enough.

“I have a huge custom order for the Qixing dinner at midnight, and I was wondering if you could try out my stuff!” She hums, spinning Paimon around gleefully enough to make the fairy forget that she was even frustrated with Xiao. Xiangling, however, notices belatedly that the said adeptus is in her company. “Oh, the guy from Wangshu Inn! What brings you here?”

“Nothing that would interest you,” the yaksha grumbles with a clipped tone. “Didn’t you say something about taste-testing for the Qixing?”

“Ah, right! Traveler!” Xiangling turns to you. “Can I borrow Paimon for a while? I’ll make sure my dad doesn’t turn her into emergency food. I promise!”

“Hey!” Paimon protests. “Who’s turning who into emergency food?”

With the slightest nod of your head, however, the chef is already on her merry way — dragging poor Paimon back to Chihu Rock despite her plethora of complaints. You sigh, telling yourself you’d make it up to her after you’ve attended to Xiao. Speaking of which…

“Is there anything you’d like to do?” you ask, eyes darting around for anything worthwhile to show the adeptus. When you spot Ruijin somewhere at the end of the baywalk, your brain clicks in place. “How about you and I play a few rounds of Theater Mechanicus?”

Xiao’s nose wrinkles at the unfamiliar name. “Is that another one of those strange human contraptions?”

“Uh… You can say that.”

You’ve played a couple of rounds with Xingqiu yesterday when the Feiyun heir practically dragged you here after collecting your rewards from the Adventurers’ Guild. So to speak, tower defense games were not your strong suit. At first, dozens of imaginary enemies have slipped past your elemental wards all because of your poor strategizing skill. It’s a good thing that Xingqiu was quick to pick up on the rules, though. He managed to win you both enough peace talismans to make the Xiao Market turn maximum profit.

Your current comrade, however, is probably just as terrible as you are.

“I don’t get this,” Xiao snarls, banging a fist on the wooden table. “Why can’t I just attack the enemies myself when they arrive? The towers are too weak to defend anything.”

Ruijin chuckles, ruffling the yaksha’s hair as if he was a child. “Patience. The more you play, the stronger the mechanici become. Besides, warriors grow to be more powerful the longer they stay on the battlefield. You know that pretty well, right?”

You have to nudge Xiao’s leg from underneath the table to keep him from pouncing at the game master right there. When you manage to catch his gaze, you shoot him a stern look to keep him in check. Deep inside, though, you’re actually panicking. What if he turns the harbor into some anemo wasteland all because of a silly board game? If that happens, Zhongli might just declare you persona non grata even if he was already retired.

Thankfully, Xingqiu’s knowledge about Theater Mechanicus has rubbed off on you enough to win you a round. Ruijin rewards you both with only half the amount of talismans you garnered when teaming up with the Feiyun heir, but Xiao doesn’t really need to know that. He stares at the jade-carved sigils disinterestedly before pocketing them in his garbs, walking away without a word. As your shoulders droop, you sigh and shoot Ruijin an apologetic look before chasing after your charge.

“Sorry if that wasn’t really your type of past time,” you tell him, matching the adeptus’ pace as he marches forward. “We could always try other—”

“If you’re going to play diplomat between myself and the harbor, listen here,” Xiao interrupts, shooting you a yellow-eyed stare. “Neither of us belong in this city. You’re an outlander, and I’m an adeptus — two creatures that aren’t meant to delve too deep into human affairs. And if you have even an ounce of respect left for our respective origins, you won’t tell me off for being needlessly hostile.”

Huh. So he’s aware that he’s being needlessly hostile.

Though he spoke each word with an even-toned seriousness, all you could hear was a boy that didn’t want to be scolded at. You were a bit surprised to see him lose his patience over such a trivial thing earlier, too. Your mouth quivers into a soft smile, marveling at how human Xiao can be despite insisting he was anything but.

“I’m heading up to Mount Tianheng for a while,” he announces once the two of you reach the end of the road. “Are you coming or not?”

You have half the mind to tease him for checking in on you despite the fact that he can pretty much leave you in the dust if he wanted to. Xiao glances at you impatiently when you don’t give him an answer, and you decide to push away any thought of discouraging him for another time.

“Sure. What are you going to—”

Several things happen all at once. Xiao cuts your words short when he dons his mask, clouds of miasma curling around his form in black wisps. He scoops your knees from underneath you, cradling you to his chest faster than you can blink. And you can only gape in disbelief as he princess-carries you across the city — jumping from roof to roof with the grace of a feline. Xiao doesn’t spare you any looks the entire time, keeping his eyes forward as he holds you securely in his grasp. This reminds you a little of the time he saved you from falling to your death when the Jade Chamber collapsed, but you dared not think of it too much.

You resign yourself to the fact that there isn’t much you can do when Xiao is in Bane-of-All-Evil form and observe the way the tattoos on his arm glow with each precise movement instead. In spite of the corrosive energy emanating from the rest of his body, the aura that those blue-green marks emit is…serene. It’s not all that different from the feeling you get whenever you stand near a Statue of the Seven in Mondstadt. Hm. Maybe Venti’s personally keeping an eye on this one.

The yaksha only stops when he’s gotten to a high enough vantage point, setting you back to your feet. You’re just about to thank Xiao for the ride, but you notice the way his knees buckle once his mask dissolves from his face.

You’re quick to rush to his side, supporting his weight with yours as he shoots you a disgruntled look. All those millennia of keeping to himself probably made Xiao unused to your efforts, but you don’t give him enough room to complain.

“You’re hurt,” you observe as you help him down to the grass. “I thought I was just seeing things when we went to the karma-heavy cavern, but that obviously isn’t the case. Does that have anything to do with the Abyss?”

“You think I’d let myself be tainted with that kind of corruption?” Xiao scoffs, chest heaving as he catches his breath. “This miasma…is all my own. This is the price I have paid for eons of endless slaughter — I’ve already told you that, haven’t I?”

You shoot him a pointed look. “Hasn’t anyone told you that you’re too hard on yourself? No wonder Zhongli is still worried about you until now. The medicine he asked me to give — it’s for that…miasma, isn’t it?”

Xiao closes his eyes, sighing. “Traveler, I don’t wish to discuss this.”

“Well, you don’t have to.”

That makes him stare back at you inquisitively. Xiao’s gaze narrows slightly as you lift your hands — palms facing the clueless adeptus before you. Your eyes flutter closed, recalling the way you purified a dragon’s tears all those months ago. This is essentially the same, right? Xiao is a creature who has borne the weight of suffering for countless millennia, much like Dvalin when the Abyss manipulated him into their favor. You managed to purge the murky tintage of their corruption despite the odds being against you.

Who’s to say that easing Xiao’s suffering — even just for a moment — is impossible?

Flecks of starlight dance across the tips of your fingers, glowing in time with the marks of anemo he bears on his arm. Xiao watches you, stunned into silence as he lets you do as you please. He spots a brush of qingxin flowers just a few meters away, but the gentle breeze that wafts across his face makes him feel like he’s not sitting atop Mount Tianheng, but on another peak entirely. When the yaksha closes his eyes, the qingxin blooms have morphed into gentle cecilias, dancing to the rhythm of a lone bard’s lyre.

Peace, he thinks. He hasn’t known peace in a long, long time.

When Xiao opens his eyes again, it’s to the feel of his head resting on top of a plush surface. The moment his mind registers your face staring down at him with a kind smile, he nearly scrambles out of your lap out of reflex, but you keep him securely in place.

“You napped for quite a while there,” you inform him, one hand smoothing down his hair. “Any interesting dreams you want to share?”

He relaxes back onto the grass when he realizes there’s no escaping you. This oddly reminds him of the quieter days of the Archon War, when Guizhong would let him doze on her lap for hours on end.

“I’d like to…apologize,” he whispers.

“For what?”

After a few moments, Xiao sits upright and this time you don’t stop him. Demonic yellow eyes turn to the vastness of harbor before him — reminding him that the war has long ended, and a new era is in bloom.

“When I told your friend that these traditions have lost their meaning… I bear no ill will to the words,” he murmurs, fingers grazing the blades of grass beneath the both of you. The lanterns have grown in number this year, and they’re much more beautiful compared to when he watched them every year from his balcony in Wangshu Inn. “They offer their lanterns, they offer their wishes to lead their heroes back home. But humans have always enjoyed the leisure of being blissfully ignorant.

“Only a handful of adepti have survived to this day. The heroes they sing their praises to have long passed — unable to hear a word of their gratitude. So forgive me if I deem such traditions pointless.” He closes his eyes and thinks of all he’s lost — his fellow yakshas and the gods that have fallen to defend Liyue alongside Rex Lapis. Though he’s convinced himself he’s already desensitized, Xiao still feels the slightest twinge in his chest. “It’s not as if we ever expected recompense for our deeds. We protected what needed protecting because it is our duty. Nothing more, nothing less.”

He expects you to wear the crestfallen look that Verr Goldet always shows him whenever he rejects her invitations to come along to the Lantern Rite. Xiao has been faced with that expression year after year by countless others, and he thinks it would be no different if you look at him the same way, too. But instead of a tight-lipped frown, your mouth twitches into a grin — barely containing your own laughter as the adeptus starts to glare at you.

“Oh no, I didn’t think someone like you would take that so literally,” you say, wiping a tear off your face. “Xiao, listen to me. The Lantern Rite isn’t just for thanking those who protected Liyue; it’s also to honor their memory. Sounds to me like you’re really downplaying how much the people respect the adepti. Isn’t that little truce with Ningguang enough proof of that?”

Xiao stares at you listlessly, and gets the feeling that he’s being made fun of. “I…might have failed to consider it in that light.”

You sigh, pulling your knees to your chest as you rest your chin on top. “So Zhongli isn’t the only adeptus who has rocks for brains here.”

“What did you say?”

“Nothing! Say, do you want to let me hitch another ride and we can craft some lanterns down at the harbor? My treat.”

He decides to overlook the backhanded insult you just made about himself and his lord. This is an era of peace — everyone jokes about things like that more often now. And though it comes as quite the pain to him, Xiao thinks it was time he learns the way of the people from this era sooner rather than later.

As you scribble your own wishes on the sides of the lantern you crafted, Xiao watches attentively on the sidelines. You told him to write down his own as well, but people like him only wish to serve the purpose he’s been summoned to make. Xiao has already fulfilled that eons ago.

When you both let the lanterns drift up above, the pyro flowers — fireworks, he mentally corrects — bloom across the night sky. They come in dazzling colors that make even him, an adeptus, wonder how human craftsmanship has evolved to this day. Perhaps you were right. Xiao does downplay many a detail about the people of Liyue, and that goes beyond their utter respect for the adepti.

However, the citizens are the last thing on his mind as his yellow eyes continue to observe you — the soft gasp that escapes your lips when the display of fireworks has reached its end; the golden lanterns shining across your eyes as you beam with delight. Xiao doesn’t remember the last time he’s ever thanked anyone — fearful that they’ll react the same way he does when faced with pure gratitude. Would you turn away indifferently? Would you dismiss his sentiments even after quelling the darkness in his heart with a single move? In the end, he decides that none of it matters.

You and him are nothing but outsiders beneath the sea of lanterns — that’s all there is to it.

#genshin impact #genshin impact xiao #xiao #sfw #omg im posting my writing again #this is the first and last time

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nepenthendline · 4 years

Text

Pulling Away - Tendou

This was a commission for @dont-mind-me-imjustpassingby with permission to post. I hope you enjoy it! My commissions are open if you would like one too! (3.1k words)

Since the start of high school, you’ve shared your classes with Tendou - someone you would call a good friend of yours. He was different from some of the other people you’ve met: unfiltered, honest, and so, so bright. You heard around the school of some of the opinions against him, ones you never thought to be true. How could someone so kind, so supporting be a monster?

He was intriguing and you couldn’t help but want to get to know him more, and he seemed to want that too. Your first experience with him was when the teacher asked you to speak to the person next to you about a passage in the class book, and you were fascinated by his thoughts and personality. Over the next few years, you got to work with him more and hang out from time-to-time. There was never a dull moment with him, whether you were out late getting ice cream together or laying on his floor, side by side, talking about your thoughts. You trusted him; you wanted to be a big part of his life, just like he was for you.

He had grown to have the same love for you. You were one of the first people who listened to him, who spent time with him and learned about his interests. You never seemed scared of him, or disgusted by the way he spoke or acted, or the way he looked, that he was so used to. You always gave him so much care and affection, hugging him or encouraging him during class or practice. Since he met you, he thought of you as the most caring, loving and accepting person he had ever met, and that’s exactly who you were – to everyone. He always thought of you as stray cat rescuer, saving people like him who no one else wanted to be around.

The two of you were waiting in the long queue at the school cafeteria since Tendou said he’d treat you to a snack. It was only halfway through the day, but you were exhausted already, just wanting to get some food in you.

“Why is this line so long?” you whined, dragging out your words and leaning your head on his shoulder. He chuckled, a wonderfully warm sound, and loosely wrapped his arm around your back.

“It’ll go down soon, and then you’ll appreciate your food even more,” he tried to comfort you, but you sent him a glare. You were about to speak when a group of your classmates approached you, asking you a question about your next class. You quickly straightened yourself up, pulling away from Tendou and letting his arm fall back by his side. One of the guys in your class talked about some of the analysis he did as part of his homework, and you stared with wide eyes, praising him for his impressive work. You were too focused on your friends to notice the way his smile faded, and how he pulled himself further away from you. You were always so kind to everyone, friends or not – he’s noticed this over the few years that he’s known you. You never held back from complimenting others or being a friend if they needed someone to speak to or if they were alone.

At the weekend, Tendou had invited you to go shopping with him since he wanted to get some more hoodies. Of course, you quickly accepted, wanting to spend more alone time with him. You trailed through a bunch of stores as he flicked through the racks, making comments about each garment that had you giggling. He picked up some options he liked and left to try them on. A few moments later, he stepped out of the changing room and gave you a twirl.

“Whaddya think?” He asked, looking at you with a nervous smile.

“You look so good! It compliments your hair nicely,” you state with enthusiasm, giving him a thumbs up. Honestly, he wasn’t expecting to hear that from you; his cheeks started burning a little and he nervously rubbed the back of his neck. ‘No, don’t get carried away,’ he thought, ‘she’s just being nice. She’s always nice. That’s just Y/N,’. It was hard enough to accept a compliment already, but it overwhelmed him a little at the possibility that people might be lying, people might just be being nice, and he’s not going to make a fool of himself on top of the comments he already gets.

He gives you a weak smile, and a ‘thanks’, before heading back into the changing room and putting on his regular clothes. As he came out, he saw you lift your head from your phone, your expression changing from a smile to confusion.

“Are you not trying on the others?” you asked, looking at the other 3 hoodies he brought in with him.

“Nah, it’s fine. I’ve got plenty already,” he waved your question off, giving you a bright smile like always, then heading off out of the store once he put the clothes away. You two talked to an ice-cream café that was nearby since you knew he loved chocolate ice cream. He didn’t speak too much, less than usual, but you got the chance to watch him as he looked at the sky and surroundings. The warm sun radiated off his skin and hair, making him glow and glisten. His wide eyes looked so bright in the sunlight, and his soft hoodie was so inviting. Without thinking, you reached over a grabbed the edge of his sleeve, feeling the heated fabric between your fingers that brushed against the skin on his arm. This wasn’t the first time you’d done this so Tendou had gotten used to the feeling, but it still shocked him every time. You held onto his sleeve until you walked into the café, then dropped your hand as you looked over the menu board.

“Let me guess, chocolate ice cream for you? With chocolate sauce and chocolate shavings?” You teased, looking over to him.

He gasped dramatically, putting a hand over his chest, “how did you know?”. You let out a chuckle at his drama and replied,

“I just know you well Satori,” you gave him a warm smile, before walking to the till to order. His mind seemed to glitch a little at your words, did you really learn to know him well? No, you came here often, of course you would remember, anyone would after that many times hearing him say his order. He took a deep breath, then moved closer to you.

“And what can I get for your boyfriend?” The young, perky girl at the till asked, looking between you and Tendou.

“O-oh he’s- he’s not my boyfriend,” you panicked, stuttering through your words as your cheeks burned hot. Boyfriend? You’d thought of it many times before but hearing it out loud was different. Could Tendou really be your boyfriend? As much as you wanted to play along with the idea that he was, in fact, your boyfriend, your embarrassment stopped you. What if it made him uncomfortable at the idea?

He watched you as you defended yourself to the cashier, his eyes losing their shine that they had before. He expected you to quickly reject the possibility, but it still hurt. That was what he wanted to be, what he wanted to hear people ask, so that he could wrap you up with a grin and say confidently, ‘yes, I am her boyfriend’ and douse you in his love. He knew it would be bad for your reputation, your image to be associated with the likes of him, and he never expected you to want him in that way either, but witnessing you pull away from him was 100 times worse than his own thoughts he played in his head.

You ate your cold treat together, mostly in silence. You were still recovering from thinking of Tendou as your boyfriend, but you noticed him being oddly quiet and slower than usual, moving his ice cream around with his spoon.

“Are you ok?” You ask, leaning over to tap his arm and tilting your head. He looked up suddenly, his face first lifeless, his cheeks were pale, and his eyes drooped. After he acknowledged your question, he pushed out a wide smile,

“Hmm? Of course! I’m fine, no need to worry,” he said in his typical joking tone, patting you on the head. He started quickly finishing his ice cream, finding a way to cover his low expression and have an excuse not to speak. You noticed though, you really did know him well, and you knew that he was holding back. It was hard to get through to him, to get him to open up though. He always built a wall around himself that not even you could get through.

“Would you like to go walk in the park?” You asked as you both stepped out the café. His eyes widened slightly at your question, then looked towards the ground.

“Actually, I think I’m gonna head back. I’ve gotta help Wakatoshi with some volleyball stuff. Um, see you later,” his voice broke as he talked but he tried hard to be convincing. He gave you a wave and a grin, before heading off in the opposite direction.

You hadn’t heard from him at all over the rest of the weekend. You had messaged him once to see how things were going, but he hadn’t even read your text. You kept telling yourself that maybe he was just busy, or asleep. Maybe he really was helping the volleyball team sort some things out, but you knew this was unlikely.

When you got back to school, you thought things would go back to normal and that as soon as you saw each other, you’d be able to talk like normal, but he didn’t even acknowledge you when you walked in. He kept his head down, fiddling with a pen.

“H-hey Satori,” you sat next to him in your seat, leaning over a little and speaking quietly. He lifted his head towards you briefly, offering you his usual bright smile, a ‘hey’ then tucked his head back down. You were about to ask what was wrong when the teacher entered, sending students scattering to their seats. The whole time in class went without a single interaction between you and Tendou – he even asked the guy in front of him questions about the topic rather than you.

During your lunch break, he headed off as soon as the bell rang and sat with his teammates. You watched him from across the cafeteria – he seemed like his bubbly self, although that wasn’t usually much to go by since he was a master of covering his emotions. You tried to ignore the possibility that he was avoiding you on purpose, throwing yourself into your conversation with your friends, though you couldn’t help but look over towards him every few minutes.

It continued like this for a few days; you approached him a few times each day, saying hello or asking a question about his day, but he always found some excuse not to talk to you, ending with him running off and you being alone. You just wanted to know what you did wrong, what you did to make him hate you?

If only you know how much he loved you, and how he was doing this to protect you and himself? He thought that if he distanced himself, if he tried to forget how perfect you were to him, then he wouldn’t feel so strongly towards you and mess up your friendship. The worst thing he could think of happening would be for you to reject him after he poured his heart out to you, so he removed himself before you could.

After a week of this distance and many hours of lying awake wondering what was going on, you gave in and pulled up your phone. It read 10: 38pm; the bright light straining your eyes in the dark as you lay in bed. You pressed call under his name, and anxiously awaited as the phone dialled. You didn’t think he was going to answer, but you heard the accepting click of the line just before it went to voicemail.

“Satori? Hey,” you questioned across the phone as he hadn’t spoken.

“Hey, what’s up? It’s late you know, you should be in bed,” his tone teetered between being caring and forced.

“I… I just wanted to talk, are you free?” You heard him shuffle around a little as he stayed silent for a few moments,

“Actually, I’m just in the middle of helping Wakatoshi with some chores so-” you cut him off,

“I know you’re alone. Please just talk to me,” you weren’t opposed to begging at this point for him to speak to you, you just wanted to fix things. He went quiet again for a little while, then let out a sigh that rattled through the receiver.

“Ok,” you barely heard him speak.

“Ok? Can you meet me somewhere? At the park we used to go to behind the big tree?” You rushed out before he could change his mind. He agreed and hung up, leaving the pit of anxiety in your stomach to churn.

You quickly got ready and head out, making your way to your meeting spot. He lived closer than you did, and you saw his red hair standing out under the light of the streetlamps nearby. He was wrapped up in layers of hoodies, tucking his legs close to his chest. You sat down quietly next to him, keeping a little distance that felt so unnatural. Neither of you spoke for a little while as you settled in to being close to each other again.

“What did I do wrong?” You asked suddenly, gazing at the side of his face. He let out a deep breath and looked back at you.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” it almost sounded like a question, as if he had no idea why you were asking.

“Then why won’t you talk to me? Why are you avoiding me like you hate me? I thought we were friends, and that we could come to each other when we had a problem,” you voice was unsteady as you spoke as your mind rattled through various emotions.

“Nothing’s wrong, I’ve just been busy,” he hated lying to you, but he didn’t want to get into this – this was exactly what he was trying to avoid.

“Stop lying to me! Just tell me what I did wrong? Let me fix it. Or at least tell me that we’re not friends anymore so I know,” your eyes filled with tears, shocking Tendou. He didn’t know you cared this much about your friendship, not enough to cry over him. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out, so he pulled his head down and held it between his palms.

‘I don’t want to be your friend,” he murmured, loud enough that you still heard. Your eyes grew wide as tears rolled down your cheeks. You were speechless, but he continued.

“I don’t want to just be someone you hang out with because I have no one else, I don’t want to just be someone you try and make happy. I want to be so much more than that,” his voice was muffled in his position, but you heard him clearly.

“What do you mean?” He shook his head at your question, looking up at the dark sky.

“It doesn’t matter. I’m never going to be enough anyway, not that I blame you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, but you are more than enough.” He let out a sarcastic chuckle at your words, not believing you at all. You moved from your spot to sit in front of him and held his hands in yours. “I think you’re amazing, Satori. You’re so bright and intelligent, you always make me happy and I love how generous and caring you are. You’re my best friend and I don’t want to lose you. I can’t lose you, Satori, you mean too much to me. I love spending time with you and talking to you. I… God…I love you.” You didn’t really think about what you said, letting your heart take over and spill your thoughts. He stared intensely at you, frozen in his spot. He went to speak but stopped himself and pulled your joined hands close to his face, resting just in front of his lips and closed his eyes.

“I thought if I distanced myself from you I would stop having feelings for you, because I don’t want to ruin what we have, and I don’t know what I’d do if I told you and you said no. I thought I was making things better for us,” his voice cracked as he spoke quietly, keeping his eyes firmly shut.

“You-you like me?” you asked hesitantly, watching him for a reaction. He nodded slightly and covered his whole face with your linked hands, but you pulled yours away. Instead, you lunged forward and pulled him into a tight embrace and let out a breath you had been holding. “Oh my god, I thought you hated me. I like you Satori, I really do. I have for a while I just had no idea you liked me.” You could feel him shaking slightly in your grasp, but he didn’t settle into your touch. In fact, he pulled away a little to see your face and spoke.

“You do? You mean it? Please tell me you really mean it.” His eyes were red, and he spoke so weakly you barely heard him. You placed one hand on his cheek, cupping it and stroking his skin with your thumb.

“I mean it, I promise,” you rested your forehead against his, “I want you in my life, and I want you to be such a big part of it,” you gave him a gentle smile as you looked in his eyes. He smiled back at you, one so genuine that his eyes scrunched up and they seemed to glow. You admired him for a moment, then slowly leaned in, kissing him delicately. Your lips barely brushed against each other’s, but you felt the sparks that tingled their way through your skin. Both of you paused after pulling away, revelling in this state of bliss.

“I guess I have some making up to do but thank you for being mine.”

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu headcanons #haikyū!!#haikyuu fanfiction #commission #tendou satori #Tendou satori x reader #Tendo satori #tendou x reader

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a-fluffer-nutter · 3 years

Text

The Fox And The Turtle

A/N - Hey guys, this was such a fun fic to write! This was prompted by a lovely anon who commissioned me on my Kofi! To that wonderful anon, I really hope you enjoy and thank you so much for helping me out a bit, my boyfriend and I used the money to buy a celebratory dinner after we got accepted for an apartment! If anyone else would like their own amazing fic, let me know or head on over to my Kofi and let’s get the process started.

This is a Miraculous Ladybug fic featuring Nino and Alya. Please Enjoy.

Word Count: 4,034

The first time was unexpected, an accident really. She never expected to get that close to him, to want to be so close to him.

Alya Césaire had invited Nino Lahiffe to a nearby café to talk. She had arrived early in the morning, wanting to finish some schoolwork and to get started on a new blog post. There was so much she needed to catch her blog up with, especially with what had happened the week before.

Lady Wifi.

She never wanted it to happen, why would she? She idolized Ladybug, most of her blog was dedicated to the hero, but she had been the cause of another fight Ladybug and Chat Noir had to undertake. It all happened because of her.

The autumn breeze rustled the sleepy trees, sending leaves of orange, red, and yellow floating toward the ground. The air was just beginning to have a chill bite at the bare skin of passersby, but this didn’t faze the people of Paris, most of them thrilled that the summer heat was fading, and autumn was taking over again. Kids had just returned to school, most of the teens excited to spend their weekends at the mall hanging out with their closest friends.

Nino was on his way to the café to visit Alya. He hadn’t seen much of her that summer, though had followed her online presence closely. It was hard not to, when Alya seemed to run a major blog in basically every topic. In fact, Nino had been browsing online forums about Donkey Kong a few days prior, wanting to prove some sort of point to his younger brother, when he stumbled upon a Donkey Kong fan blog Alya had made a few years before. Sure, she hadn’t touched it in a long time, but the fact that Nino had accidentally found something made by her had made him laugh at the time.

Humming to himself, Nino danced between small puddles of water that speckled the sidewalk. Staring at his phone, he tried to think of a good playlist for the next school dance. It was that time of year again; the dance wasn’t going to DJ itself.

“Britney Spears or Lady Gaga?” Nino muttered to himself, staring at the blank note page he just opened on his phone. He may have had Lady Gaga playing in his headphones at the moment, but that didn’t mean Britney Spears wasn’t a favorite of his.

A church bell chimed in the distance, Nino looking up from his phone in panic.

“Oh no,” Nino said to himself. He was late to his meeting with Alya. Nearly tripping over a stroller with a screaming toddler inside, Nino jogged toward his destination, still considering what Lady Gaga song would be the best to dance to.

Alya recoiled as she burnt her tongue again. She had just sat down with her steaming mug, her third pumpkin spiced latte of the day. She might have enjoyed making fun of people who drink pumpkin spice lattes, but they were too good for her to resist.

“Ow,” She moaned, her tongue sticking out slightly between her plump lips. She had a habit of just rushing into things, being impulsive. From risking it all to get the next big scoop to instantly taking a drink of something she knew would burn her tongue, Alya had a penchant for impulsivity.

The chime above the door rang, Nino throwing it open with so much force that it startled everyone inside in the café. Giving an embarrassed smile, Nino gave a short wave to the older lady who spilt a bit of coffee down her dress. Looking up from her computer, Alya rolled her eyes at the sight of Nino, though she couldn’t help the smile on her face.

“Hi Alya,” Nino grinned, pulling off his headphones and slipped them down his neck. “Sorry I’m late, I got distracted.”

“It’s fine,” Alya replied, waving her hand, motioning for him to sit.

“Before we start,” Dropping his backpack to the floor, Nino plopped down into his seat, sitting across from Alya. “Do you prefer Britney Spears or Lady Gaga?”

“You can’t choose between the two of them,” Alya let out a laugh, thinking about her fan blogs she has created for both of them in the past.

“You’re no help,” Chided Nino, Alya simply replied by sticking out her tongue, still numb from burning it.

“Anyway, I wanted your help with something,” Alya quickly changed the subject, getting down to business. Nino smiled expectantly, tilting his head ever so slightly. “I need to update my blog about Ladybug, but I don’t really know how to do it.”

“Oh, I thought this was going to be something important,” Nino laughed, laughing harder when Alya shot him a death glare. He lifted his hands, “I kid, I kid. But how can I help you with your blog? You know more about Ladybug than anyone else I know. Wait, this isn’t about Chloe, is it? If so, I’m not helping you snoop on her more. I don’t want to get into trouble.”

“Oh no, I’m definitely never snooping on Chloe again, she definitely isn’t Ladybug.”

“Then, what do you need?” Nino leaned back, glancing up at the drink menu above the front counter. He may have been interested in whatever Alya was talking about, but he was torn between whether to order a strawberry smoothy or a chocolate caramel latte.

“Lady Wifi,” Nino’s eyes shot down at her words.

“Why are you asking me about her, you are her,” His voice dropped, glancing around to make sure no one else could hear him.

“That’s the thing,” Alya looked down at her keyboard, fingers circling the keys. “I don’t remember it at all. I guess that’s good, because I could’ve hurt someone really bad and I would have to live with remembering myself doing that, but I don’t, which is really weird. I just feel bad about battling my idol, like I could have really hurt her! I don’t want to do that, besides, what would I do if I can’t blog about her?”

“Work on your other eight hundred blogs. Or you know, schoolwork,” Nino rubbed the back of his neck, letting out a short laugh when Alya shot him another glare.

“Come on, Nino,” She sighed, leaning back in her chair. “Please help me.”

“Okay, sure thing,” Nino smiled, leaning forward, placing a hand on her knee, giving it a small squeeze. “What do you want to know?”

Instead of replying, Alya let out a stream of giggles, instinctually scooching back in her chair. Shocked, Nino pulled his hand back, lips parting.

That was adorable.

“Don’t tickle me, Nino,” Alya said, rubbing her knee, numbing the area of the ticklish shocks that just jolted through her muscles. “This is serious.”

“Sorry,” Nino rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed by the blush he could feel painting his cheeks, crawling up to his ears.

“Anyways,” Alya went on, ignoring Nino’s discomfort, and went on talking about Lady Wifi. Nino answered as many questions as he could, but he couldn’t stop the image of her giggling face from being at the forefront of his thoughts. Nino wanted to see it again but didn’t know when he would have the chance to.

“Nino!” Alya giggled, attempting to curl into herself.

The attack had come unexpectedly, but there was not much she could do. Fighting back could give herself away, and it wouldn’t be for another few months that Nino would learn the new truth about her. She let him get away with the attack, though with her new strength, it was much harder to hold back.

Nino sat over her, his knees straddling her thighs and hips, putting just enough pressure to pin the legs to the bench without crushing her. He sat triumphantly on her thighs, fitting perfectly between the hem of her jeans and her knees, which happened to be exposed that day thanks to the fashionable tears that came with them. He held her wrists together in one hand, surprised by how tiny her wrists were in comparison, he laughed victoriously once he had them pinned to the wooden bench, her hair messily entangled beneath.

“Something wrong?” Nino teased, his free hand resting on her knee, feeling the short stubbly hair on her skin. Why shave in the winter when nobody was going to see it?

“What are you doing?” Alya asked, voice trembling. The skin on her legs were coated with anticipatory goosebumps.

Nino simply responded with a curt grunt and a slight shrug, then proceeded to squeeze the knee cap. Giggles filled her belly, rising to her throat like bubbles blowing in the wind. Alya bit back the laughter, her teeth pressing into her plump bottom lip, ruby lipstick painting a thin layer of gloss onto her teeth. She managed to hold back the laughter for a bit as he focused on squeezing just the kneecap but lost her composure a bit as he slipped his hand through the hole and hooked his fingers beneath her leg and scratched behind her knee.

“Nino,” Alya squeaked before the vast number of giggly bubbles slipped through her control and turned into one of the most beautiful sounds Nino had ever heard. She squeezed her eyes shut, turning her head away so he couldn’t see her smile as well, though she fought the urge to tug at her arms.

“Wow, Alya,” Nino cooed, his short nails still scratching at the skin, his fingers moving swiftly as if helping her scratch a persistent itch she couldn’t reach. “If you’re this ticklish here, you must be super ticklish everywhere else too.”

Letting out a little yelp, Alya continued to giggle as Nino crawled his hands a little further up the leg and lightly traced swirls into the back of her lower thigh.

Alya decided not to give him the satisfaction of conceding at all, of begging. Ladybug had just given her own Miraculous, which hid beneath her shirt, but she wasn’t afraid at this moment that Nino was going to see it. It would have to take a lot of thrashing for it to make an appearance, and Alya knew that wasn’t going to happen. Speaking of her Miraculous, Trixx was still hiding in her fanny pack, which thankfully was sitting next to her backpack on the ground below the bench. Lucky for Trixx, as he would be crushed by Nino if Alya hadn’t taken the fanny pack off before this all went down.

“How about here?” Nino let out a small laugh as he quickly reached forward and latched onto her hip bone. Despite it not being that ticklish of a spot, Alya still let out a giggly gasp and a short kick. She dug the heel of her shoes into the bench, giving her something to focus on, grounding her just a bit.

“Her giggle is adorable,” Nino thought, ecstasy flowing through his bloodstream, her smile and giggle like a drug to him. Though she was hiding her face, he could still see enough of her face to take in the beauty of it all, her lips curled up into a smile bright enough to rival all the stars in the sky.

Needing more, Nino walked his fingers up just a bit to poke at her sides. Each poke elicited a giggle of a slightly higher pitch led Nino to the conclusion that this spot was a bit better than the last. Curling his fingers into a mimicry of claws, he pressed them into the softer flesh and began to vibrate his hand. This turned out to be a great technique.

“No!” Alya nearly screamed, the dam finally collapsing and out flowed her wonderfully boisterous laughter. She let out another kick, then dug her heel back into the bench, trying hard to get control again.

Ticklish shocks resonated through her body, sending surges from her side through her chest and into her throat, which continued to pour out waves of contagious laughter. Despite all this, she still did not tug at all at her arms. This was not satisfactory, not at all, to Nino. He wanted to watch her struggle, to writhe and laugh underneath him, under his ticklish touch. Alya, though, could not let this happen. She was a heroine, after all. A new hero, but still a hero that shouldn’t be taken down by something as silly as tickling. She knew she could fight it until Nino grew bored, she had to.

“This a good spot?” Nino beamed, tempted to pull his other hand down to do the same to her other side, but thought against it. He won’t let go until she pulls free or begs.

Nino didn’t know why he was being so sadistic all of a sudden, but he liked it. He liked seeing Alya like this, so flustered, so adorable...no. He didn’t want to admit it yet, he couldn’t like her like that, at least he didn’t think so. But she was so pretty, with eyes that glowed like gold coins and her lips as beautiful as rubies.

“It tickles,” Alya broke Nino out of his thoughts, bringing out a laugh from him.

“Well, I hope so,” Nino grinned, fingers stilling briefly before walking up to the base of her ribs. “That’s kinda the point.”

Alya let out a squeak as he gently prodded between her bottom two ribs. Nino’s grin spread wider as a devious idea flickered into frame in his mind.

“Do you know how many ribs the average person has?” Nino asked, mindlessly tapping the same spot between the two ribs over and over, enjoying the small flinch each poke provoked.

“Twenty-four?” Alya asked after a moment of thinking it over. Something like this should’ve come quickly, but she was a bit distracted at the moment.

“Yep,” Another poke. “Let’s see if you have twenty-four, too.”

Without a second to protest if she had wanted, Nino scratched at the lowest rib. Alya let out a breathy giggle, turning her head back so she could see him.

“One,” Nino said before walking his fingers up to the next one. “Two.”

“Three,” Alya found herself saying between nearly silent giggles. Nino raised an eyebrow, surprised by her participation. He briefly wondered if she was enjoying it but thought otherwise. Though maybe.

“Four,” Her giggle became a bit more desperate. “Five.”

“Six,” Alya startled Nino again, though pressed her face into her arm, hiding from him as much as she could.

“Seven” Alya cackled, wiggling a bit in anticipation.

The next three were in her armpit, which is standard anatomy. Alya knew this was going to be hard but tried to hold back as much laughter as she could. Unfortunately for her, it was not much.

“It tickles!” She squealed, beginning to hysterically laugh as Nino counted the eighth rib. She couldn’t help but toss her head back, laughter pouring from her widely grinning mouth.

“Nine,” It was hard for Nino to hear himself over her laughter, though he didn’t mind it all that much. That and he knew he wouldn’t be able to count a proper twenty-four. Alya likely didn’t know this fact, or at least Nino hoped so.

Hands tightly balling into fists, her nails dug into the palms of her hands. It took a lot of effort to not struggle, her armpit being ruthlessly attacked by now, Nino having just announced the tenth rib, but didn’t really seem to be attacking it. Instead, he just scratched all five fingers along the exposed area. Nino was lucky that the day had been unusually warm for the end of autumn, as Alya opted to wear a tank top under a light jean jacket today, which she had taken off earlier into their hangout. This left nothing to protect her sensitive bare skin from his dull, scribbling nails raking up and down this one armpit.

“Want me to stop?” Nino asked, wanting to see what she would do. She responded by glaring daggers at him, though due to the current situation, these daggers were more like pencils, not very dangerous, but still hurts a little if stabbed by one.

“Sure,” Was all Alya could say. She wouldn’t beg for him to stop, not wanting to concede. She could take it, but she wouldn’t mind at all if Nino was bored and wanted to stop. This, however, was definitely not the case.

“That wasn’t very convincing!” Nino let out a laugh as he wore a goofy grin. “If you want me to stop, you have to say, ‘Yes, Nino the Great and Wonderful, please stop tickling me!’”

“Never,” Alya exclaimed, then let out a shriek as he suddenly attacked her other armpit. The pads of her fingers teased the shaved skin, the sensitivity of this armpit higher than the last thanks to the long anticipation Alya had to endure. She knew it was coming, but still could not brace herself for it.

“Well, that’s no fun,” Nino pouted, sticking out his lower lip ever so slightly. His fingers stilled for a moment, contemplating his next move. “Hm…how can I make you beg for mercy?”

“You can’t,” Alya chided, stretching her fingers as she breathed heavily, glad to have fresh air circulating through her lungs once more. “You can’t do anything to make me beg.”

“Is that a challenge?” Nino sneered, raising an eyebrow. “Alright then, I accept that challenge.”

Sucking in as much air as she could in anticipation, Alya tightened all her muscles and clenched her fists once again. Her heels dug back into the bench, ready to be a physical support in this endeavor.

“Hm…” Nino poked the tip of his tongue out, contemplating his next move. Her armpits were a good spot, but she would probably expect that. He could sit on her arms and attack both at once, but that wouldn’t give him any other options for tickling her, except for her neck. Her neck seemed promising, but for some reason, he just felt something was telling him not to, like something in his brain nudging him another way.

He glanced down at her stomach, a very easy spot for him to reach in this position, and one she couldn’t defend whatsoever even if she tried.

“Does this tickle?” Nino asked as he reached down as if to tickle her armpit, but then withdrew his hand quickly and went for her belly.

“Yes!” Alya let out a snort after a shrill scream, her heels pounding against the bench. Nino’s hand teased at the softer skin from her hips to right below her naval, poking at just the right spots to make her cackle and throw her head from side to side. “It tickles so much!”

Nino was shocked by how toned her stomach was, the faint outline of abs could be felt through her shirt.

“Have you been working out?” Nino admired her belly, tracing his fingers over the muscles. “I’m a bit jealous. Maybe we can work out together. But oh well, it sure isn’t stopping you from being super ticklish!”

“Shut up!”

“Are you going to beg me to stop?” Nino asked, his nails now skittering over an overly sensitive spot just beneath the left side of her rib cage.

“Never,” Alya repeated, her hands hurting just a bit from how tight she was straining her fists. It just tickled so much; her belly being one of her worst spots. That and… “No!”

“Aw, does Alya have a ticklish little belly button?” Nino cooed, single finger wiggling in her belly button like a worm wriggling around on a fishing hook. Alya’s laughter was loud, likely heard by all who resided in Paris. She flailed her legs, not able to steady or ground herself any longer, her heels bashing the wooden boards beneath her. Her hips bounced as she thrashed and turned, trying to get her wrists free without hurting him, but Nino wouldn’t let go. She still knew she could get free, but she didn’t want to use all of her newfound strength, not wanting him to know that she was as strong as a heroine now.

“It’s so ticklish. It’s so cute!” Nino’s voice was cutesy, adorable, as if he was talking to a puppy. As his index finger swirled around in her navel, his other fingers scratched at her tummy, Alya letting out a howl of ticklish mirth and agony. “How can such a tiny little thing be so ticklish?”

“Shut up!” Alya let out another snort as she shot her retort.

“You want me to stop?”

“I’m not begging.”

“Fine,” Nino grinned, devious plan forming in his mind. Without any hesitation, Nino let go of Alya’s wrists and thrust his hand down under her arm and began to tickle her armpit at the same time as her belly was being obliterated.

“Stop!” She finally let out, bringing her arms down, trapping his hand in her armpit.

“I will only stop if you say the magic words,” Nino laughed, dipping his middle finger into her belly button to help his index finger. Letting out another few snorts, Alya shook her head.

“No,” Alya repeated over and over, smacking his chest, though not very hard. “Stop.”

“Nah,” Nino let out a chuckle as he bent over, his fingers on her belly stopping momentarily to lift her shirt up to the bottom of her ribs. Sucking in the deepest of breaths, Nino planted his lips onto the skin around her belly button and blew the largest raspberry he could.

“Mercy!” Alya tapped her fingers against the bench, tapping out.

“You’re welcome,” Nino winked, thinking his pun was pretty funny. Alya simply responded with a half assed glare. He pulled his hands and face away from her body and looked over her, his head tilted a bit to the side. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Alya said as she gasped in more air, her lungs trying to catch up from the lack of oxygen she has had for the last half hour or so, or at least she thinks it was that long. Her current perception of time was definitely a bit messed up. “That was a lot.”

“Sorry,” Nino let out a sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. He lifted himself off her, standing up next to her. “I guess I went a little overboard.”

“You think?” Alya smacked him with the back of her hand, finally feeling like she had the strength to sit back up. She rotated around to face him and put her hands on her hips. “I’m going to get you back, Nino. Mark my words.”

“I’ll remember,” Nino winked, but he didn’t remember for that long.

“You’re so mean!” Nino cackled, his head thrown back, his armpits being tickled by Alya, who was sitting behind him, her legs crossed, wrapped around his torso.

“This is revenge, Nino,” Alya teased, quickly blowing a raspberry against his neck, eliciting a loud laugh.

“It tickles so much,” Nino squeaked, wiggling around, but despite being the superhero, Carapace, he is not nearly as strong as Alya. She has been in the game for much longer, which he had just learned and was amazed that she didn’t literally kill him when he last tickled her. He was incredibly fortunate, but here he was, getting the worst punishment of his life.

“That’s the point, Nino,” Alya grinned, slipped her left hand down and reached forward, grabbing at his knee, and squeezed.

“Stop!” Nino yelled, his laughter louder than ever. “It tickled too much!”

“Well, maybe you should have thought about that when you tickled me first.”

“That was months ago,” Nino wheezed, too ticklish for his own good. While Alya had, quite possibly, the most ticklish belly button in the whole world, Nino was definitely more ticklish overall. Every inch of his body was ticklish, and his knees were quite bad.

“Well, I like to hold grudges,” Alya gave a villainous laugh, now attacking his ribs and thighs.

“I give, I give!” Nino let out a snort, unable to take any more tickling. “It’s too ticklish!”

“Say that I am the best tickler in the world.”

“Alya is the best tickler in the world,” Nino repeated, though thought about being snide, though thought against it. He really couldn’t take much more.

“Good,” Alya said, withdrawing her body from his and stretched. “I think we’re pretty even now. Don’t you?”

“Definitely,” Nino replied, unable to shake the phantom tickles he still felt. “We’re even.”

#commissioned fic #miraculous ladybug #tickle fic

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carrioncrows-readers · 3 years

Link

You may not be good at a lot, but damn if you don't know business and numbers.

Content Warnings: major content warning for sexual harassment, explicit violence

When Jacob first brought you to the brothel, you thought he'd genuinely lost his mind — you made it quite clear you weren't interested in fucking him for money. With his arm around your shoulders, you were prepared to make quite a lot of fuss if he tried anything — but he didn't. Instead, he offered you a bookkeeping job for steady pay, with room to take "freelancing" on commission should you so desire. It was unexpected. It was — nice. The place is nice. A bit gauche, and good lord, those curtains are tacky, but you didn't expect prostitutes to be so…

Well. Nice.

Come to find out, the woman who left a lipstick stain on Jacob's cheek (you aren't jealous; you aren't) is named Jenny. Jenny is in the elected position of being madame (you didn't know madames were elected?) of the establishment. Which also happens to be the name of the brothel itself. The Establishment. Tongue-in-cheek, but effective.

She's full-bodied and impossibly soft, brown hair piled into curls on top of her head. The pearls she wears are gifts from clients, apparently, and it's become so much of a running joke that for her birthday, the girls saved up to get her a new set of pearl earrings for fun. You have no idea why she wears them all at once.

She peers over your shoulder as you scribble in the ledger, writing down dates and numbers, trying not to get a headache putting it all together. Unfortunately, you haven't had time to sharpen up your sums.

"Ms. Jenny," you glance at her from the corner of your eye, looking for a way to fill the silence since no one is murdering the pianoforte, "can I ask why you haven't done the bookkeeping yourself?" She hums and smiles at you. You notice dimples in the roundness of her cheeks, like craters on the moon.

"Well, dearie, it's because I can nary read nor write. Neither can any of the others — been meaning to hire a bookkeeper for a bit, just never got 'round to it, I suppose." Suddenly and for, of course, no reason at all, you want to disappear into the floor. You should have guessed. Now you feel awful.

You look at your notes. You had all the girls tell you a rough estimate of their earnings for the past six months; some were more accurate than others, but you get the feeling that Jacob just wanted to find you something to do. He doesn't take a massive percentage anyways; usually, it fluctuates depending on how much they've earned that month. Always enough for a comfortable living after expenses, always favorable towards the brothel residents. You've no idea why, just that he somehow manages to supplement his own income enough that it doesn't put him in the red.

"I see," you say, pausing to add up all the earnings for July, minus overhead. Jenny leans in with her eyes narrowed and pokes your side, making you jump so high your ass almost hits the ceiling.

"You're a right hard one to read you are; what's that supposed to mean? Hm?" She pokes you again, and you feel your cheeks burn bright red.

"Nothing! Nothing, I just — felt terrible for asking, I suppose. Ow." You rub your side — does the woman have knives for fingers, or is your skin just made of paper? She pokes your arm — definitely knife fingers.

"Well, no harm done."

You sit quietly, shuffling papers in the ledger until everything is tight and up to date — it's not doing too terribly for a Whitechapel brothel. Still, there are some improvements to be made — namely, the settlement of customer debts.

How ironic that you have become the creditor now.

You set your pen down and lean against your steepled fingers, a plot crawling up the back of your mind and settling in. You ask Ms. Jenny, since she is much more familiar with the Rooks than you, to find you a few burly men. And to tell them to bring weapons. Blunt ones.

This is your job now — you'll be damned if you're not going to do it well. Besides, this isn't something you should bother Jacob with.

It isn't tricky to track down your debtors; one look at you smiling in your silks and velveteens, a train of rugged brutes behind you, and people scrape the ground to tell you where your targets live. They know what's coming, and they're not eager to try and quell the storm. You knock very politely on the door to an apartment in a run-down shack of a building, watching it crack open a hair's breadth. That is all the opening your boys need — they muscle in and push Mr. Curtis to the ground. You ignore him swearing to shut the door, folding your hands in front of your stomach.

"Mr. Curtis! I believe we have business."

"I don't know what you're fucking talkin' about," he spits. A simple nod of your head is all the excuse one of your enforcers needs to start walloping Mr. Curtis about the head until he begs you to stop him. You do, the smile on your face ever so slowly becoming a genuine manic grin.

"You owe my employer quite a bit of money. Do you have a wife, Mr. Curtis? I assume not if you visit brothels so often, but I wouldn't put it past you to cheat, either." Curtis rolls onto his side and covers his weeping nose, and you're fascinated by the slow drip-drip-drip of red into a puddle on the floor. "You have one month, which I find very generous. Can you read?" You don't receive an answer, just a low groan of pain that sends a tingle up your toes; you pull a piece of paper out of your pocket, the ink already dry as you sit it on a side table. On it is a sum of money, a date, and Curtis' name.

You leave him to lick his wounds, damn near skipping out into the darkened street. You visit three more houses in short order before returning to the brothel to see Jacob leaned over the intake desk, talking with Jenny. They both have lit cigars between their fingers. You had no idea Jacob smoked. He turns his head, and you suddenly feel self-conscious of where you've been.

"Done terrorizing the whole of Whitechapel?" He asks, but he doesn't sound unangry. Not that it doesn't stop you from worrying that he's simply putting on an air of calm. You quail and fiddle with the ends of your gloves, staring at your shoes.

"I apologize-"

"Think nothing of it," he says and comes over to pat your shoulder. "Debts need to be paid, and I appreciate you looking after my people. Your people now, too, I guess." Your people. You stare at Jacob and his toothy smile around his cigar, his hand still settled on your shoulder like it belongs there. You clear your throat and shrug it off, hurrying to the desk to note down when your debtors are supposed to send in their payments. It's mostly just to keep your hands busy.

Your people.

You've never really belonged to a group before. You exist in the gray strata between the middle class and the aristocracy, scathingly referred to as the nouveau riche by your would-be peers and mistrust by the working people of London, you belong nowhere. Unwelcome in the clubs and symposiums of the genteel, nor the pubs and coffeehouses of the mercantile caste. You didn't even have that many friends among the newly rich, either. Even for them, you were too… off. Violet Morvell was someone who tolerated you enough to call you acquaintance. Or so you thought.

The idea of having people is foreign and exciting, and terrifying all at once.

***

Your time at the brothel is well-spent. You buy yourself a math primer with the salary you get and brush up on your sums. With that knowledge in hand, you are brutally efficient with the finances of The Establishment. You set up a sign-in sheet and record every name that comes through the door, much to the patrons' shock and chagrin. The burly doorman you recently hired on is insistence enough they give you their real names, which in and of themselves are insurance. Occasionally he has to throw out a tirading customer, but they usually come back for their fix of unfortunate women. Sex, you suppose, is at the root of most vices.

At the end of the month, all four of your debtors turn their money into your capable (you hope) hands. You didn't have to visit them a second time — they either respect Jacob Frye too much, or they're too terrified of him to keep skimping on his money.

You begin educating a few of the girls on manners, etiquette, and how to properly play a pianoforte without sounding like they're torturing a cow. When you suggest that the brothel start serving tea and coffee to waiting customers, Ms. Jenny happily converts one of the rooms into a small kitchen. It makes more overhead, but in the end, the payout is astounding — it makes the patrons feel special, and men who feel special are pleasantly inclined to give more in terms of tips. Pun intended. Jacob would be proud of that one, you think.

It also attracts wealthier clientele, whom you are more than happy to charge extra for the pleasure of pretty company. The Establishment prospers with you holding the purse strings; you almost dare yourself to feel proud. The Rooks have taken to calling you bookie, of all things. Sometimes they even invite you out for drinks.

You've never had a nickname before. You think you might like it.

The English winter drudges on and turns into an English spring, and you settle into a rhythm. You moved into an apartment in Whitechapel, a nicer one (in comparison — it's still poverty when set beside how you used to live, but you think you're slowly acclimating to it) closer to work. You spend most of your time with Ms. Jenny and the girls anyway — most nights, you find yourself passed out at your desk until Ms. Jenny shoos you to a couch in a dark corner by the stairs. She begins to insist that you call her Jenny, just Jenny — but that seems like a breach to you, a line you're just not ready to cross yet, no matter how many times she covers you with a blanket and lets you sleep in the receiving room.

At the end of every month, you meet Jacob in a pub to hand over his cut and go over the ledger. He always lingers to talk with you after, and you've gotten to know him, you think. As much as you can know someone who somehow manages to head both a crime syndicate and an alleged, shady reactionary freedom movement. At least that's what you can glean from the whispered conversations he's had with you when you ask after it.

"I think I know that look," he says, pointing his glass at you, "what are you thinking about?"

Damn him and his sharp eyes — you really must be more careful about your expressions.

"I realize that I don't actually know you at all," you say, swirling your glass around in your hand to slosh the wine inside. Frye's response is a dry chuckle and little more than that, grabbing the bottle of wine and refilling his own cup. You know he's not partial to wine. You know he prefers milds to bitters and finds that lager doesn't have the malty taste he enjoys, but he drinks it when he goes to Evie and Jayadeep's. But beyond that? He may as well be a ghost to you.

"Perhaps that's for the best," he says. You watch him chug half his cup before he sits it down again, wipes his mouth, and clears his throat. You sit your glass down, a companion piece. You'd threaten to kick him over not savoring it, but the wine they serve here isn't worth savoring.

"Do you have any hobbies?"

"Hobbies?" He seems utterly baffled by the idea.

"You know — things you enjoy. That you do on your off time."

"I think it's so incredibly, endearingly bold of you to assume I have off time." He smiles and then leans his chin on the heel of his hand and makes a show of thinking. "I do enjoy a good game of cards."

"Does that count as a hobby?"

"Why wouldn't it? Not everyone can afford to learn croquet or whatever they teach at Fancy Lads and Lasses School for Fancy Lads and Lasses." That stings — you take a drink of wine to lessen the bruise that puts on your ego, and Jacob visibly softens with an apologetic smile. "Sorry. That was unkind of me."

"No — no, you're right." You look down at your hands, smooth and uncalloused, and rub your thumb against your palm to keep them busy. "I'm coming to learn that the world is very different from what I thought."

You don't know why you said it. Or why Jacob Frye touches his fingertips to yours after a long, pregnant pause. You startle, and you look up to see him with that softened smile.

"It's a lot to take in." He pulls his hand away; you find yourself missing the brush of it. Your fingers curl into your palms of their own accord.

"When did you first learn about all this Assassin and Templar business?" You ask.

"About four minutes after Evie, right out of the womb. We were raised in it. Our parents were both Assassins, so were our grandparents, probably their grandparents too. It's a good thing we keep dying young; otherwise, we'd be twice as inbred as Her Majesty and company." You gasp.

"That is the queen you're insulting!"

"She's a right shit old bird, is what she is," he plants a hand on his chest, looking wounded. "She almost took Evie's knighthood! Because we dared ask politely for her not to steamroll over all India and probably gleefully kick puppies in the process."

"Evie was knighted?"

"Henry and I too, but I didn't want the damn thing."

"You're a knight?" He curls his lip, topping up your glass and sighing. He nods his head as though it's a burden, and you snort into your wine glass. The dismay strangely suits him — he doesn't seem the type to want or even know what to do with a knighthood. You can't imagine him in a suit and medal either, no matter how hard you try.

You're about to ask him what his parents thought about him being here when someone grabs a chair and muscles their way to your table. You're pushed damn near into the wall, scowling and moving if only to keep your wine from spilling. You recognize the idiot who stuck his nose in — his name is Smith, and he's a bastard.

You've had to throw him out of The Establishment more than once; you'd entertain the idea that he has some sort of vendetta against you, but he's not worth the effort of thinking about. He downs his bottle of lager and sits it down onto the table, swaying in his seat. His eyes are bloodshot under the greasy, unwashed blond mop of his hair. He grins at Jacob with all his teeth after he greets him warmly. Loudly.

You cow in the corner as the whole bar turns to look at your table, trying to hide in your skin. For the most part, Jacob seems annoyed. Still, he greets Smith with the impatient smile of a father whose child interrupted an important meeting. You can see a muscle twitch in his cheek when Smith leans on you, his hand wrapping like an uncomfortable snake around your waist.

Your heart freezes, and every muscle you own goes rigid like stone as he spreads his palm over your hip.

"Didn't know you visited the Judies, boss! How much does ol' bookie go for these days? Gold or silver?" You grip your wine glass until your knuckles threaten to split, hot behind the ears as he leans in. His breath smells like a month's worth of stale beer. You fix him with your eye and pull your lip away from your teeth, speaking through a tight jaw. Usually, that is enough to get the handsy ones to back off; not tonight, apparently.

"You know very well that I work the desk. Nothing more, Mr. Smith."

"Yeah, with that stick up your arse, I bet you don't get many Johns. No room." He winks at Jacob, who simply sits and lets you wallow in your misery, the smile gone from his face. You look at him, pleading, as Smith leans even further in and plucks your wine glass out of your hands. You can't move. You can't stop him.

"Aw, c'mon, poppet! Give us a smile." Jacob grits his teeth until his jaw is white, a warning snarl curling his lip away from his teeth.

"That is enough, Smith."

"What? Boss, I'm jus' havin' a little fun. Hazin' the greenies, you know how it is." Smith turns back to you, leering ever closer, the rank of his breath falling across your cheek. "You're having fun, aren't you, darling?" The world melts away, candle wax as his hand travels down to rest on the outside of your thigh. You can only think of Thomas Fucking Morvell. His hand around your waist. It feels so suffocatingly like he's there instead of Smith, and something-

Something in you.

Snaps.

You think you might be seeing yourself outside your body, your hand wrapped around the neck of the beer bottle as you slam the motherfucker into his big mouth. It explodes in a haze of glass. The force pushes him backward, out of the booth, onto the floor, and he covers his bleeding face with his hands and screams, screams, screams.

"You stupid fucking cunt!" Smith wails more obscenities at you, but you aren't listening. Your ears ring. The bottle feels oh-so-right in your hands, perfect. Jacob stands when you do, eyes wide and eyebrows high, but he's not quick enough to stop you from straddling Smith's chest and grabbing his lacerated jaw with your hand. Glass cuts into your fingers. He stares up with one eye swollen shut with blood and the other ballooned in horror. You raise the shattered, razor-sharp bottleneck over your head. You feel like an animal.

You wish you could say something clever — but your teeth are pressed so tightly that your words wither and die at the pass. Smith shrieks when your arm falls towards his eyes in a violent arch.

Aren't you having fun, poppet? Gimme a smile.

Something firm and solid stops your arm and wrenches you up with so much force you spin, and the bestial part of you uses the momentum to try to punch out at whatever's caught you. You've never thrown a punch in your life, but by God, are you going to throw one now. Something grabs that arm too.

You force yourself to refocus, panting hard and covered in blood from a million tiny cuts, splattered in Smith's gore and stale beer.

Jacob is staring at you, holding your wrists tight and firm to keep you from hurting someone else — or yourself. Then, finally, the horror dawns on you that the bar — the entire bar — is staring at you. You drop the bloodied bottleneck; your chest feels like it's going to implode. And yet Jacob keeps staring.

"You," he says, more to himself than you, "are full of so many interesting surprises."

***

You are cleaned up, bandaged, and taken to a private room above the bar. You spend minutes (hours, feels like) pacing. Back, forth — back, forth. You chew at your bandages and lament that your nails are covered, gnashing like a beast to try and bite them to the quick.

When Jacob opens the door, you want to throw yourself at his feet.

"Jacob," your voice wobbles, your breath coming out in short gasps, "I am so, so sorry-" He cuts you off with a raised hand.

"No, I'm sorry."

...What?

Whatever for?

You stare in stunned silence while he rubs the back of his neck. "You were obviously uncomfortable, and he just — kept touching you. And I didn't stop him. I'm sorry."

"You — You told him to stop." You want to laugh. This is a trick — this has to be a trick.

"That is not enough." He sighs. "Considering I know what it feels like." He grimaces at the floor, arms crossed, and you collapse back to sit on the bare mattress, hearing the frame creak its protest under your weight. The two of you exist in oppressive quiet until Jacob pipes up from the door.

"But — that was impressive, back there. And you've shown a lot of initiative and drive these past few months. I think you should join us — the Creed." It sounds like a speech he's rehearsed for months, shocked into pulling it out now at the most inopportune of times. It's damn-near comical, but you can't bring yourself to laugh.

"Again, with your crazy cult of conspiracy theorists." You sag, running a hand over your face. "Fine. I'll join you. What else do I have to lose?" The silence that follows is awkward and strange, so you try to fill it with conversation. "What did you mean when you said you knew what it felt like?" Jacob leans against the wall, watching a patch of the floor behind you with great interest. It takes him a moment to speak, but he sounds distant. Weather vaned to a place in history far away.

"His name was Maxwell Roth."

"The old leader of the Blighters? The one that set fire to the Alhambra?"

"The very same." You try to conjure him in your mind from what you remember. You come up with a shadowed figure in a mask and a cruel grin; you only know that he was much older than the two of you. You pull your knee to your chest and block out the thoughts as Roth slowly mutates into a figure you know far, far too well, and hate far, far too much.

"I'm sorry," you mumble.

"Don't be — it was a lifetime ago."

"A year," you smile; it doesn't reach your eyes. "But those can feel like lifetimes, can't they?"

"Sure as the sun shits gold, are you right." He moves to sit beside you, his hands folded between his knees, back bent. "He — I loved him. At least I think I did, afterward. After he died. He'd call me darling and my dear, and he made me feel so — so damn good about myself — all the things I'd accomplished like I was special. But I think we both loved a man who was," he trails off, trying so hard to find the words. You finish for him, hauntingly familiar with the feeling.

"Different from who the real man was," you say. "You loved the image you had in your head." And afterward, Jacob fell in love with the nostalgia.

"Right." He pauses and then coughs, the tips of his ears red. "We never had sex. I mean, afterward, shit — yeah, there were men. But for Roth and me — he was just touchy-feely. I thought I didn't mind then, but looking back on it now…" You feel nausea coil in your stomach; it's like looking in a mirror.

You never would have known. Or maybe he's just not as broken as you.

But to hear that you're not alone — you can find some measure of comfort in that, even if you're horrified to see your doppelganger sitting by you. You ask Jacob if Evie knows — she doesn't. She never will, if he has anything to say about it; all she knows is that something changed when he killed Roth, maybe for better or maybe for worse.

You don't know what to do — so you hesitantly lean against him, hoping that you're a comforting weight. He lets you. You stare straight ahead to keep from crumpling like a paper crane.

"I'm glad you said yes," he says. "This isn't — it's not a life I ask you to join lightly."

"What do I have to lose?" You repeat yourself, finally feeling brave enough to glance up, watching Jacob light a match and catch fire to the end of a cigar — the same one he's been smoking for a week, you realize. He must be saving it. "Does your mother know you smoke those things?" Not that it'd make much of a stir — they're meant to be healthy for the lungs anyhow. It's just unfortunate about the smell.

"Didn't know her," he says, almost as a throwaway comment as he takes a deep drag of smoke. You jolt, the shock of it filling your bones. "What?"

"Nothing," you say, fiddling with the selvage of your bandages. "I simply realized that we have much more in common than I thought."

#dig yourself a hole #ac syndicate #jacob frye #m #general #multichapter #i will say. you DO get to hit someone in the face with a beer bottle in this one #catharsis <3

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consumeconstantly · 4 years

Text

Small Buff Girl Sightings Ch 4.

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | ao3 ___________________________________________________________

Marinette is not surprised when she receives a text message from Lila two days after she speaks to Damian. She’s been expecting Lila to contact her.

After all, Damian refuses to listen to common sense and transfer, and since he hasn’t been brought into the fold with the rest of the class, he clearly must be against them. This causes the rest of their classmates agitation. Marinette is afraid that Damian might end up like the rest of the transfer students; pushed away and aggravated to the point of akumatization.

It doesn’t matter that Marinette brushes off Damian’s attempts at conversation. All it matters is that there is one (1) Very Attractive Boy that is not under Lila’s thumb and is associating with Lila’s supposed enemy. Surely, the Italian girl knows that the current situation holds all of the possibilities for a disaster.

Marinette isn’t sure how Lila has her phone number, but she supposes it doesn’t really matter. Since Marinette didn’t run for class president this year, Lila was elected because of everybody’s adoration for her. Being Class president is a good resume boost, so Lila accepted, and appointed Alya as her Vice Deputy (and of course, allowed the faux reporter to do all of the legwork for her.) So, it’s highly likely that Lila just looked up her number in the class registry.

7:45AM | Unknown number: it’s lila. i’ll meet you at the corner cafe near the louvre at 4 today. we need to talk

8:05AM | Marinette: okay

Unknown number: youre not going to ask why

Marinette: we both know why

11:02AM | Unknown number: be on time

On his part, Damian isn’t the kind of person who is heavy handed in conversation, which is good for Marinette. He makes snide comments when annoyed and asks questions about assignments that reference lessons he wasn’t there for, but is quiet otherwise. He doesn’t bother much with pleasantries and also doesn’t bother asking to hang out after school, which Marinette is very glad for. Hawkmoth is sending out akumas more frequently than he has in a while, and she has a lot of work to do with commissions-- mostly received through word of mouth-- and homework. She does want to get into a good college, after all, and it’s not exactly like she can put I am the superhero, Ladybug on her admissions essays. Or maybe she could, as some sort of joke?

Still, his obvious denial of Lila’s advances is all too apparent to the class, and even without Lila’s instigation, gossip spreads like a wildfire. In fact, it spreads despite Lila’s desire for it not to. The class doesn’t talk about it when Lila’s in earshot, but Lila knows what’s going on. Lila sees the pitying looks that are thrown her way, the whispers in her ear about the bully, Marinette, getting her claws into another, poor transfer student.

At first, Lila attempts to divert the class’s attention by pushing her relationship with Adrien. Lila gets even closer to Adrien, who, weirdly, smells like some sort of old cheese, especially when she gets close to his breast pocket.

“Oh, Adrien, I think it’s so sweet that you’re going to be taking me to dinner tonight!” Lila finds that Adrien’s forearms are surprisingly muscular. Not that there’s anything wrong wth that-- she likes her boytoys to be strong, but sort of stupid.

It’s a pity that Adrien isn’t stupid, just a pushover. The two of them have an agreement, just like she and Marinette do; Adrien will play along with Lila during class time so her empire remains as strong as ever, and Lila gives Adrien an out for model related things. She doesn’t know where Adrien continually disappears off to during photoshoots, but Gabriel trusts her for some weird reason she hasn’t figured out yet. Which means that Lila is the perfect, ever constant excuse. Occasionally she goes out with Adrien on a “date” to keep up appearances, but it’s hard to date someone who doesn’t follow her every whim. Lila also doesn’t know anything about gaming, or anime, or anything that Adrien has interest in. In return, Adrien dislikes fashion, manipulation, and lying. Really, they have no common ground.

When the American transfer showed up, Lila had been hoping that he would be dumb. He is wonderful eye candy-- more muscular than Adrien and definitely more filled out, that’s for sure. Lila knows that Gabriel has Adrien on some god-awful model diet, but that boy can metabolize like there’s no tomorrow. But it’s not Lila’s place to intervene. That’s family matters-- that’s show business.

Damian Grayson is not stupid, which is either a blessing or a curse, because that means theoretically this man is the whole package. He’s tall, dark, and has a sharp tongue. Exactly Lila’s type. But nothing that’s actually good ever comes her way, and the moment she meets him, she can tell that he dislikes her. Not for the first time, Lila regrets telling such bald-faced lies her first year. Prior to that year, her mother and she hopped countries nearly every year. Apparently, her mother decided that having Lila in the same school throughout high school would be beneficial. Maybe if Lila hadn’t made such a huge mistake in her first year at Francois Dupont, she would be friends with Marinette, who has more of a spine than the rest of the class combined.

Lila knows a losing battle when she sees one. Damian doesn’t like her, though she’s not sure why. She gets the feeling it’s not just because of her past lies. She’s good at telling what people feel about her, has been trained to since a young age. Since her mother is a diplomat, business dinners and charity galas have been her playground since childhood. Figuring out people’s relationships started as a game, at first. Then Lila learned she could turn her knowledge into a tool. As she bounced around from school to school she got more and more adept with manipulating the relationships that she saw. But she’s seen her mom lose before. She miscalculated, thought that she could change somebody who was too headstrong. It hadn’t been pretty-- and it was high stakes, too. That’s why her mom and dad are now divorced.

She recognizes the same bullheadedness in Damian that Marinette has, and Lila knows that with Damian and the class at odds like they currently are, things will go south. Unlike the other transfer students, Damian looks like he will not be easily cowed and will not transfer just because his classmates say mean things to him. They certainly won’t be able to hurt him physically. Which is why she needs to meet up with Marinette. Do damage control. Make sure that she is safe, and that nobody can hurt her. Nobody in this stupid class can hurt her, really. Except for maybe Marinette, but she is too kind to do so. And now, Damian. Which means Lila needs to get a lock on him, and Marinette is her way to do that.

That’s why Lila is here, now, at this cafe near the Louvre, far, far away from anybody who goes to Francois Dupont. None of her dogs will find her here, and she can work something out with Marinette.

Marinette slides into the seat across from her after ordering something, and Lila begrudgingly admits that the girl is pretty and fashionable. She has a fluid grace to her motions, as well, which is why Lila found it weird that she had been so klutzy when they first met. Puberty, maybe?

“So,” Lila starts. She doesn’t really know how to talk to Marinette. Marinette is not one of her dogs. Marinette is smart, and loved, and good at what she likes; she is, at the very least, Lila’s begrudging equal. “Damian Grayson.”

“Damian Grayson,” Marinette repeats, knowingly. She smiles and jokes, “It almost sounds like we’re meeting up to talk about who we have a crush on.”

There are times when Lila wishes that Marinette took her up on the first option of the truce she presented. She wouldn’t have minded a partner in crime, and Marinette is everything that Lila lacks. That’s why Lila offered it in the first place. She knew that Marinette wouldn’t take it-- she was far too morally inclined too-- but it was worth a try.

“I’ve tried talking to him,” Marinette says, “But he’s not the type to listen.”

“He’s smart.” Smarter than the rest of the class, Lila thinks, so of course he won’t ally himself with her. People who follow who are always disillusioned dreamers who don’t have enough common sense to use Google. “I don’t mind if he’s not on my side. He just can’t be against me.”

Lila doesn’t care much about her classmates at Francois Dupont, but she can’t give them up, either. She still has the rest of this school year and the next, and it’s easier having her classmates fawn over her and drop everything at the flick of her wrist. It makes being class president very easy. If Damian exposes her lies, the end of her lycee years will inevitably end in an unpleasant altercation with Gianna Rossi, her mother. And while her classmates are inarguably dense and too trusting, their attentions aren’t altogether unpleasant. They invite her to go to mundane places and she agrees to, when it’s not too much of an inconvenience.

Marinette nods, sagely, then sips her Cafe au Lait. “There’s nothing to worry about there. He doesn’t like dealing with classroom politics, so as long as you don’t mess with him, he’ll stay away.”

“Good.” But also-- Lila hesitates. She doesn’t think that Marinette will agree with this, but she’s a little bit desperate. As useless and unthinking their classmates are, Lila doesn’t want to lose them. They’re all that Lila has. And they’ll think it weird that Damian isn’t on her side. They might start messing with him, and by extension, Marinette. On Lila’s short list of who she has tried and failed to take down is Marinette. The girl is slow to anger and has seemingly unending patience, but she’s unquestionably talented and charismatic, which means Lila does not want to see her mad. She’s been accepting of the new classroom dynamic in which her classmates ignore and ocassionally insult her because the whole school knows the two of them have bad blood, but some days Lila catches Marinette looking at Alya, Nino, and Adrien with a distant fondness. If they totally turn on Marinette, it won’t end well.

Apparently, Marinette can see the hesitation on her face. Lila is surprised at how good the other girl is at reading people. She definitely should not have the same experiences that Lila does. She has too bright of a disposition to have experienced a life constantly embroiled in politics and poor personal relations. But somehow, Marinette is almost as good at reading people as Lila is.

“If you think the rest of the class is going to do something, I’m pretty sure that Damian will be fine with you shunning him. He doesn’t like liars, but as long as it gets him out of dealing with the rest of the class, he’ll be fine.” Marinette knows how little Damian cares for their classmates. She can ask him for permission after talking to Lila, and then act accordingly.

This is surprisingly easy. Though, most things with Marinette are. Even the first time that Lila confronted her, they only needed to speak a few words before everything was resolved neatly.

“I’ll let you know what I decide to tell them.” Lila figures that it’s easier for her to tell Marinette what she’s planning and not get an unexpected surprise at the last second where the girl opposes her.

“Sounds good.”

Marinette’s phone is on the table, and it buzzes itself to life. Lila sees her lockscreen: a picture of Marinette and her family. Lila thinks of her own lock screen. It is much less personable. A lock screen that is one of the many that are preinstalled.

Marinette picks the phone up, which comes off as uncharacteristically rude. Marinette doesn’t seem like the kind of person who is constantly attached to technology, and she does have better manners than most of her classmates. Lila doesn’t think she’s ever seen Marinette pick up her phone when talking to somebody, and Lila wonders if Mariette picks up the phone because she thinks so little of her.

But Marinette looks pale and worried. She says, “Sorry, but it looks like I have to cut this short. If there’s anything else, just text me, okay?”

Then, Marinette dashes out the door, wide-eyed.

Lila wonders if Marinette’s statement extends to things outside of their classroom situation. Maybe she can get Marinette’s opinion on Gabriel’s Spring line.

“What’s wrong, Renee?” Marinette is worried. Renee never calls without texting, first. Normally, he calls when it’s nighttime, right before he goes to bed. He’s calling in the middle of the day, and something feels wrong.

Renee is taking shuddering breaths on the phone, and Marinette feels her stomach drop. “M-ma-maman,” he wails.

“Did your maman do something?” She’s making her way to Renee’s grandparent’s residence. Marinette visited Renee once in the past week, and he was settling in fine. His grandparents really love him. They said that after their son died, they were rarely able to contact Renee because his mother always had him so busy.

“Maman, she, she hurt Nonna.” Everything that Renee says is punctuated by sniffles and held-back tears.

“Is Nonna bleeding? Can Nonno come to the phone?”

“N-no, I don’t know, Mari, I’m scared, Maman, she’s never been this angry before, Nonno made me lock the bathroom door, I can’t hear them anymore, she’s not going to hurt them, is she? She can’t hurt them, Mari, what am I supposed to do? I’m sorry, I’m sorry for being so bad, I’m sorry. Please--”

“Stay right where you are, okay Renee? Can you use your phone to call the police to Nonno’s house? I’m going to be right there. Nonno and Nonna are going to be okay.”

Renee lets out a shaky, “Yes,” and then Marinette hangs up the phone, darting into an alleyway to turn into Ladybug. She thinks that this might be the fastest that she’s made her way through Paris, and her heartbeat is so fast, Marinette feels like she’s about to vomit.

Ladybug swings to the suburbs where Renee currently resides, detransforms, and sprints into the house. The door is left wide open, which is a bad sign. It signals to Marinette that Celia was violent from the start, and that the elder Monsieur and Madam DeVries did not even have time to close the door.

She is unfortunately right; Madam Devries is on the floor with her arms over her head, body in a fetal position. Celia is barely restrained by Monsieur DeVries, who has deep scratches on his arms.

“You,” Celia snarls when she sees Marinette come through the door. “You bitch! Your stupid intervention made me lose my chance at a promotion. Now I’m on probation! I could be demoted, all because you thought that you could teach my child.”

Celia’s stiletto heels slam onto Monsieur DeVries’ bare foot, and he flinches from the pain. It gives Celia just enough slack for her to escape his arms and storm up to Marinette. “Everything I do is for Renee. I work so he can go to school, so that he has a roof over his head, and so he can go to all of those stupid lessons that his father wanted him to do. And what do you do? What gives you the right to take him away from me?”

She tries to claw Marinette, but misses. All Marinette has to do is sidestep, sweep Celia’s already shaking legs from underfoot, and then pull Celia’s arms sharply and backwards. Marinette’s shin is locked over the back of both of Celia’s knees, and Marinette contorts the woman backwards so Marinette can speak directly into Celia’s ears.

Marinette is glad that there are no cameras rolling here, though she has gathered so much evidence against Celia for charges of child abuse and corporate fraud that there is no way that Celia isn’t going to jail. Sine there’s no video evidence, if Celia wants to bring this instance up, she can just claim self defense.

“You starved Renee when he didn’t want to go to the lessons that you arranged. You beat him if he did anything wrong. You made him think that it was normal for kids to go weeks without seeing or hearing from their parents, prevented him from contacting other family members and from making friends, and humiliated him just because he wanted to hug you in public.” Marinette pulls Celia’s arms back even more sharply, so that her spine was over Marinette’s other knee. Celia let out a gasp and a muffled cry of pain. “You can’t pretend that you did all of that for Renee. You certainly can’t pass off the laundering of Silverstein and Company’s money as something necessary for you to take care of Renee.”

Marinette abruptly pushes Celia onto the floor, letting the leg that wasn’t restraining Celia’s knees onto the woman’s lower back. It’s a lot easier to restrain somebody who’s unconscious, but Marinette wants Celia awake to realize how quickly her life is going to go down the drain. So that Celia knows how much evidence she has stacked against her.

It takes Marinette longer than it usually does for her to restrain her victim with zip ties, but she gets it done well before they even start to hear the police sirens.

“If you think you can use your late husband’s name as an excuse for what you’ve done to Renee, you have another thing coming. I will see you in court this Thursday and not only will you be out of a promotion, you will be out of a job. I’d like to see you try to get a job in France when you have charges of child abuse, violence against a teen and family, fraud, and money laundering on your record.”

“But I love Renee! He is my and Jean’s child. The last connection that I have with Jean. How could I ever hurt him intentionally?”

This only makes Marinette feel more disgusted. How twisted Celia’s vision of love is. Is this how Gabriel feels towards Adrien? Does he also delude himself into believing that his constant isolation of Adrien is a form of love?

“Sometimes, intent doesn’t matter.” Marinette says softly. “The consequences of your actions make you accountable. If you truly love Renee, let him be happy. Let him be safe.” Maybe one day, Celia will learn to be better. To love better. Marinette isn’t sure if Celia should ever be let back into Renee’s life, but that isn’t a decision she can make. That’s something that Renee and Monsieur and Madam DeVries must decide. She hopes they wait on it.

Celia cries, and Marinette can feel the woman’s shudders underneath her fingers. Her face is to the ground now, but she’s lost all color and Marinette can almost believe that she is ashamed and doesn’t want to look at anyone. But as good as Marinette is at partial and half-truths, she’s never been good at lying. Not even to herself.

The police come, and Celia is escorted out in a solemn procession.

Madame and Monsieur DeVries do not thank Marinette, but the way they look at Renee with such concern and affection as they embrace him is all she wants, anyways.

The trial is a quiet affair. There is little to no media coverage because Monsieur and MadameDeVries want it that way.

Since Celia’s physical assault on her son, the case was expedited. Instead of testifying Thursday next week, both Renee’s grandparents and the Silverstein and Company insisted that the date be moved up, and somehow, they managed to get the case to be heard on Friday of the same week.

Renee attaches himself staunchly to Marinette and Damian at the trial. After they visited him at the DeVries house last week, Renee never stopped talking about the best big brother he could hope for. Now, after he has seen his mother launch herself at his Nonna and Nonno, he only has his grandparents and the two of them.

Monsieur and Madam DeVries take this in stride. They are thankful that they helped in getting Renee away from his mother and supportive of Renee forming an attachment to the two of them.

“Damian,” Renee asks when his Maman is on the stand, “Is Maman a bad person?”

Damian is not sure how to answer this. He is no expert on people and his experience with parents is limited and unusual. His mother is an ambitious assassin who raised him to be cold-hearted and brutish. There is little love lost between the two of them. Still, Damian can’t bring himself to think of his mother as a bad person. A villain, maybe, but she had her moments--as brief and few as they were-- of kindness. As far as Damian can tell, Talia really thinks she is doing right by the world. All she wants to do is make the world a better place, though how she goes about doing that is... less than savory.

He shoots a look at Marinette. She shrugs and says, “Just tell him what you’re thinking.”

“People aren’t bad.” The words feel shaky on his tongue. Talia and Bruce both have very different ideology that they’ve espoused to him, but neither feels right to say to Renee. It’s weird to say there are no bad people in the world, when he is a vigilante who fights villains on a daily basis. To say that people like the Joker are not bad, when he has so much blood on his hands. He looks at Marinette, and she’s giving him an encouraging smile. It makes him feel like he’s saying the right thing. “Misguided and twisted, yes. There are also people who are bad for you. Their decisions and actions can be bad, and they can be hurtful.”

Marinette smiles, and it makes Damian feel good. He’s never really expressed his feelings on the dichotomy of people being good or bad, but he thinks about it often enough. His siblings and father all have pretty varying views on the matter, so he can’t claim that he is right, but if Marinette agrees with him, he can’t be all that wrong.

If this view isn’t wrong, perhaps he’s needs to reevaluate his relationships with the people surrounding him, and his feelings towards himself. Dick has tried for a very long time to make Damian believe that he is not a bad person, but Damian has never really believed him. Dick says Damian was just misguided in his youth, following the instructions of someone who should have known better. That so long as Damian tries to be a better person and do better things, that he will be a good person.

Being a good person has never sounded right to Damian. He knows that his hands have taken lives and if he’s being honest, he’s not that unwilling to take more. Father believes killing people is a bad thing and refuses to do it. When Todd went off on his own and killed people, Father said it was unacceptable, and that it didn’t matter that the people he killsed were doing bad things. Thus, if Damian killed in the past, Dick’s logic simply doesn’t make sense. He cannot redeem himself from the lives he has taken; they cannot magically resurrect themselves.

But if people aren’t good or bad and only their actions are, then maybe Damian is a hero, as Dick has continually tried to convince him. He has faced consequences for his past actions, and though he’s not sure that the consequences will ever be enough, the decisions he makes now are better. As Robin, he goes out of his way to help people. As Damian, he ocassionally tries to mediate.

“Still, even if people aren’t good or bad,” Marinette whispers into Renee’s ear and squeezes his hand, “That doesn’t mean you have to be with them. If they’ve hurt you, it’s your right to avoid them, and you shouldn’t feel bad for doing that.”

Celia shivers on the stand and the few times that she brings herself to look at Renee, Marinette can see the beginnings of remorse on her face. Realization and remorse are the first steps to change. There is a future out there that will let Renee and Celia be together again, though Marinette personally doubts that it will ever happen.

After the trial, Renee is released to the custody of Monsieur and Madame DeVries, and Celiaa is sentenced to 14 years in jail, with a possibility of parole in 7 years. Many of the scandals th Silverstein company has under their belt was pushed onto Celia. Marinette can’t say she’s pleased with that, but it’s not as though she’s willing to fight for a shorter jail sentence for this woman.

The five of them go out to celebrate the result of the trial filled with quiet joy.

One week after the trial, three since Damian arrived in Paris, and Marinette and Damian are engaged in a wrestling match in Marinette’s living room.

“Come on Marinette, don’t be such a sore loser.”

Marinette finally manages to flip and pin Damian onto the ground. “I would not have lost if you didn’t knock the controller out of my hands with thirty seconds to go!”

“That was just poor strategy on your part. You could have knocked my controller away too, instead of chasing after yours.” It’s surprisingly difficult for Damian to get himself out from under Marinette, and it’s even harder for him to flip her back and cage her. “Besides, it’s not my fault that you have such sweaty hands. Should keep a better grip, Pigtails.”

Marinette sputters. “Don’t insult my hairstyle choices!”

“I wasn’t insulting them. It’s a--” nickname. But Damian doesn’t give people he’s not close to nicknames. When he doesn’t know someone’s name, or doesn’t care for them, he calls them by distinguishing features. But Damian knows Marinette’s name and thinks that she’s a decent person. The way Pigtails rolled off of Damian’s tongue feels more like an endearment than anything else. He thinks that her pigtails are pretty cute, after all. They fit her childish persona when she is relaxed.

Sabine comes up the steps from the boulangerie and smiles at the two of them.

“You two are getting along well,” she says so nonchalantly that Damian feels a flush growing. He lets his weight off of Marinette, and she bounds up, onto her mother’s arm.

“Maman, tell Damian that my pigtails are great. He’s insulting them!”

Sabine smiles lovingly at her daughter and shakes one of the pigtails with her hand. “Definitely the tails of one very cute pig.”

“Maman, you can’t call me a pig. I’m your daughter.”

“I said a very cute pig.” Sabine looks at Damian and winks, and his flush grows even more. “Now isn’t it about time for the two of you to go back to school?”

Marinette groans. “Don’t remind me. Madame Mendeleev is going to give a physics test today.”

She grabs another pastry and her bag before kissing her Maman and heading out to the streets with Damian.

“Bye Maman, we’ll see you after we go visit Renee!”

“Bye, Sabine.” Damian inclines his head as Marinette’s mother waved them goodbye from behind the bakery counter.

It’s nice being friends with Marinette. The days go by quickly, and there’s rarely a dull moment. Somehow, the two of them kept meeting each other after akuma attacks, and between all of their accidental run-ins and their scheduled visits with Renee, Damian finds that he’s more often in the presence of Marinette Dupain-Cheng than he is alone.

At first, Marinette is prickly, but after Lila spreads the lie that he doesn’t speak French well and feels anxious when in big groups, and oh, did she mention that he wants to leave and not be friends with any of them, the class doesn’t really bother with him much. She’s much more willing to be around him once that occurs.

Surprisingly, what Lila said isn’t even that much of a lie. He wants-- or at least wanted-- to leave Paris because he thought that Hawkmoth wasn’t that big of a deal. He certainly doesn’t want to befriend anyone who is imbecilic enough to believe Lila. His French is a little bit rusty, but it’s definitely passable.

Now that Lila is not constantly trying to hold Damian’s forearm, he relaxes a lot. Marinette is a calming, level-headed person who balances out Damian’s doom and gloom with cheer and optimism. She’s good at catching him up on the classwork, though not the best ad science, and is a responsible person that Damian trusts with most things.

Lately, he’s been thinking of trusting her a little more and fishing for information on Hawkmoth, Chat Noir, and Ladybug. For some reason, Damian thinks that she will be a very good source of information if he approaches it the right way.

He aces the physics test. It’s a good day.

They’re walking back to Tom & Sabine’s Boulangerie when they come across Nicolette, the girl Marinette saved from Fraser.

“Marinette! Damian! I’m so glad I ran into you two. I never got a chance to thank you guys for saving me.” Nicolette looks infinitely happier than when they had first met her. She’s so different than when Damian first met her. He’s never been good at reconciling people in extreme situations of stress with how they are normally, so Damian supposes this is just par for the course.

“Can I get you guys coffee? It’s really such a relief that Fraser’s finally off my back. He was hounding me for a long time.” Nicolette’s voice trails off towards the end. She’s ashamed.

“I’m free. I’d love to have coffee with you. Damian?”

Damian doesn’t have any real reason to refuse. Research on Hawkmoth is important, but he’s hit a dead end as of late, and stressing about the lack of information-- Damian curses magic, for the umpteenth time-- will do nothing. It doesn’t help that he can hear his older brothers in his head, telling him that he needs to get a life.

“How’s your new job going?” Marinette falls into conversation with the girl, and the two of them manage to drag him into the conversation as well. Having a rapport with someone he barely knows is unusual, but surprisingly pleasant. There’s no need to go into depth over things he doesn’t care for, and anything that a party doesn’t seem interested in or doesn’t like is glossed over immediately.

Perhaps his brothers are right, and Damian does need to get a few more friends his age.

“My boss says that if I keep performing the way I am, I’ll get a promotion before the end of the year! Can you believe that?”

“That’s amazing! I’m so happy for you. And your coworkers?”

“They’re pretty amazing. I’m so glad that I decided to work for Dior instead of Silverstein and Company. Silverstein was what really sent Fraser off, and they’re not even in fashion. They’re in real estate or something. Dior always reminds me how valued I am, and that’s something I really needed after dealing with Fraser for so long.” Nicolette looks around the cafe and lowers her voice. “There’s not a lot of information out about it in the media yet, but I’ve heard that Silverstein is going to be in pretty hot water soon; someone high up in their Paris branch really messed up. Apparently she was doing all sorts of illegal things under the table, and let a lot of those who were under her get away with the same thing.”

Marinette and Damian exchange looks. They know exactly who she’s talking about, but they come to the joint decision that they don’t need to talk about it. Because talking about how they know means talking about Renee. And even though Nicolette is friendly, there is no reason to expose another person’s life story. Especially not when they’re as vulnerable as Renee is. Marinette gently redirects the conversation back to fashion.

“Oh, I love Dior! Their ready to wear line was to die for this year.”

“Definitely, a lot of my friends like Gabriel better, but I simply adore the way that Dior emphasizes femininity. I don’t think that women need to emulate men in their fashion; we’re amazing the way we are, and should be appreciated.” Nicolette looks Marinette up and down. “Speaking of, I love your outfit. It doesn’t look like it’s something from a ready-made store.”

“I like to design my own clothes from time to time,” Marinette waves off the compliment. “Both Gabriel and Dior’s original missions are founded on principles that I greatly admire, though I have to admit that I’ve had some personal run-ins with Monsieur Agreste that have reflected poorly on his recent choices, and I am no longer the biggest fan of his work. It’s sad that he’s deviated so much from what he originally wanted to do-- give his wife and women the power to be treated as an equal.”

Marinette isn’t exactly sure how Gabriel treats Adrien in his entirety, but what little she does know is enough for her to despise the man. For the past year, Marinette has wanted to emancipate Adrien, and that desire has only gotten stronger in the past few months. In her gut, Marinette knows her initial suspicions are correct: Gabriel has to be Hawkmoth. More recently, even their moods seem to be interconnected. Gabriel has been hounding Adrien more than usual-- more photoshoots, late nights, less correspondence with his friends, more of a diet, and those are only things that Marinette has observed. And Hawkmoth has been coming after her and Chat Noir with a vengeance. He’s released an akuma every single day for the past month, and it’s taxing on her, though Marinette can’t say that his newest strategy is any weirder than the other ones he’s been trying out during the past half year. At least the akumas aren’t that strong, but it’s worrying because Chat Noir feels more obligated to come out to at least half of the akuma battles, and it’s clear that he’s too tired and too busy to do so.

“What about you, Damian? Do you have a favorite courtiere?” Marinette smiles sheepishly. They’re talking about fashion, and she��s not sure that he enjoys the subject all that much.

“I don’t know much about fashion, but all my brothers can talk about is this new designer that’s been working with Jagged Stone and Clara Nightingale. They’re completely obsessed, but I can’t remember the name.” Damian thinks the designer’s name had an M in it, but he’s not sure.

“Oh, MDC! They’re so elusive, but their designs are stunning. I’d love to work with them, if I ever get a chance. It’s a pity that they’re so secretive.” Nicolette whips out her phone. “I have a whole file on all of the designs that they’ve released so far. They have a great eye for color, and their construction is flawless. I even have a few designs that they haven’t claimed, but I’m pretty sure they made it. All of them have a pretty distinctive--”

Nicolette narrows her eyes. “Wait.”

Marinette looks down at her cup, and then back up into Nicolette’s, calm and steady. “I love MDC too. Since I’m an aspiring designer, I reference everything she makes pretty often. I based my jacket off the one she made for Clara, with a little bit of Dior Spring 2017 for flair.”

“No. Way.” Nicolette’s eyes set themselves on the lapel of her blazer. “No, no, no, there’s no way.”

Damian raises an eyebrow, looks at Marinette and then Nicolette. Nicolette’s mouth hangs slightly ajar while Marinette holds her cup of coffee. He feels like he’s missing something here, but he’s not exactly sure what. MDC. Marinette. MDC. Marinette.

He pauses. What is Marinette’s last name again? He thinks he’s heard it at least once before-- must have, because they needed to state their full name for the court records-- but what?

Nicolette squeals and takes Marinette’s hands. Still, she knows when to keep things a secret; since Marinette hasn’t revealed her identity yet, there must be a reason why she wants to keep it a secret. Marinette saved her, so there’s no way that Nicolette is going to betray her trust. Plus, this might give Nicolette a huge break if she plays her cards right.

Apparently, Nicolette deems Damian either to be nobody important, or somebody who’s already in confidence with this secret that Marinette is keeping, so she lowers her voice just enough so that the three at the table can hear. “I cannot believe that I’ve met you. I can’t believe that you saved me! Do you know how kickass that is? Half of the designers who are working for us look like they’re fragile enough to blow away if one more needle stabs them. Oh my god. I can’t believe this. This is one of the best days of my life.”

For her part, Marinette looks confused, with an underlying current of either amusement and possibly anxiety. “They are pretty new to the industry. It’s rare to meet another fan!”

“Don’t play me like that. I got my job for a reason. I was one of the top scorers in business school and might have been hired for my background in technology, but the reason why I had an emphasis on fashion is because I am obsessed with couture. And when I get obsessed, it’s pretty easy for me to see when it’s one of my favorite designer’s styles.”

“Thanks for thinking that I copied them so well!” Marinette smiles, and Damian almost doesn’t catch the hint of tension in her shoulders. “I do have a lot of free time on my hands though. High school student and all.”

Marinette has learned to lie very well. After years of hiding life-altering secrets, she has to be. There’s a lot riding on her ability to keep silent. Paris, for example.

Unfortunately for her, the two people at the table aren’t fooled by her act. Damian pieces it together from context clues and a quick glance in his contact list, where Marinette is listed as “Marinette Dupain-Cheng.” Nicolette, on the other hand, is very well versed in MDC’s past designs, and also has the conviction to follow through with her beliefs.

Marinette’s denial of her alter-ego is not outlandish. She’s a teenage girl, and perhaps not ready to face the media storm that would come after outing herself to the public. So Nicolette drops the issue, and Damian doesn’t comment. She hums, pulls out a business card and says, “Well, your construction on your blazer is much better than we see with interns usually. If you’re ever interested in coming to Dior, just shoot me a message. I’d be glad to give you a referral or help in any way. It’s the least I can do.”

“Wow, that’s amazing! I’m not sure, but I’m thinking of trying to intern this summer.” Marinette isn’t sure that she can, what with her duties as Ladybug that will inevitably pull her away from her internship and will not reflect well on her work ethic (she really needs to take down Hawkmoth before she gets into college, or at least before she gets into the working world), but it would be nice to intern for one of the biggest fashion companies. And honestly, after knowing how awfully Gabriel treats his own son, she’s not sure she wants to find out how he treats his interns.

“Please Marinette,” Nicolette says, eyes twinkling. “With your skills, I can land you more than an intern position. But it was nice catching up. We should do this again, sometime.”

“It was nice,” Damian says, and he finds that he means it. More than nice, actually. Damian knows more about Marinette now, and he’s sure that there’s even more for him to discover. She certainly keeps things interesting, that’s for sure.

“Definitely.”

“Eugh. Damian, would you please throw out that shirt of yours?” Marinette wrinkles her nose. “Mustard yellow is not your shade. How is it that the one colored shirt that you have in your wardrobe is also the ugliest thing you own?”

Since they now see each other on an almost daily basis and Marinette’s proclivity for fashion has been outed, she voices her distaste with Damian’s limited fashion sense more often than not. The boy knows how to work a good black t-shirt and jeans, but not much else. She asked him if he was trying to go for the emo look, yesterday, and when he said no, she demanded that he wear something with color the following day, So, Damian flipped through the clothes that he brought with him to France, and found that the only colored clothing he brought was a t-shirt he doesn’t even remember packing.

“I’m wearing something colorful,” he says. “You told me to.”

“If I knew that this was the only thing that you owned in color, I would have gladly let you remain in your emo phase.” Marinette sighs. “Now that I know this is your only option and that you are not an emo, I have no choice.”

In the time that has passed since the two of them met with Nicolette, Marinette has not acknowledged the elephant in the room. She has said nothing of her relation to MDC, but it’s not hard to figure it out. Damian spent the night after they met up with Nicolette looking at a collection of all the things that MDC has designed and found a very distinctive logo sewn into each. This logo is also found on all of the things that are up in Marinette’s room, but he hasn’t mentioned it. Thus, the two of them pretend that she is just an aspiring designer, rather than one who already has high-end clientele.

With a dramatic swoon and an intake of breath, Marinette says, “I suppose I must help you with your wardrobe. The reformation of one Damian Grayson has now been entrusted to me, Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

The mention of Damian’s fake last name makes him bristle more than the jab at his clothing colors.

“My wardrobe is fine. I don’t see anybody else complaining.”

“Damian. You interact with maybe five people on a regular basis in Paris. Renee doesn’t think you can do a single bad thing in the world, and his Nonna and Nonno aren’t going to say anything about your fashion choices. The barista at the cafe is head over heels for you and clearly doesn’t think about anything but your pretty eyes and the muscles under your t-shirt. Maman and Papa just think that you’re a teenager who doesn’t have more than one outfit, and that you’re possibly emo.” Marinette pauses. “You do have more than one outfit, right?”

Damian scoffs. He may not know fashion, but he can certainly afford more than one outfit. Still, Marinette doesn’t know much about him in terms of family or finance. They’ve kept everything very surface level, though he’s sure that she has her own assumptions. He has his own about her, though he does have more information to work with. He can’t shake the feeling that he’s missing something big, though. The way they keep meeting up after akumas and the way she’s able to take people down so easily when Damian knows that she doesn’t actually go to the martial arts class down the street from Francois Dupont. But every time he tries to think about it for too long, something else draws his attention. His train of thought always slips away.

“Don’t you scoff at me young man. I am now obligated to help you, you poor, misguided soul. I am going to dress you to impress.” Her grin broadens. “I bet that I can get that barista to ask you on a date. What would you prefer; for her to leave her number on a cup, for her to silently drool over you, or for her to try to work up the nerve to ask you out directly?”

“I don’t want her to ask me out at all.” He leans back onto the armrest of the sofa and assesses her.

“Come on, Damian. You need to make more friends. Go out. Live a little!”

“This, coming from you,” Damian says amusedly. Marinette and his brothers would get along splendidly, if they ever met. Not that they will.

Marinette huffs. “I certainly have more friends than you, and I definitely interact with way more people than you do.”

“That’s what you get for working in customer service. And also for having some sort of moral obligation to save the world.”

At this, Marinette almost stutters. Her mind instantly goes to Ladybug. But Damian can’t know. All of the times that she’s seen him on scene after an akuma attack, they were all coincidences. They have to be.

“I don’t know why you feel the need to save everyone and their uncle from stalkers and continue to intervene in random street fights, but where I’m from, that certainly doesn’t happen very often.”

Oh. Oh, he is talking about her civilian form. He doesn’t know. It’s fine.

“Funny, because you always seem to step in to help whenever you see me.” Marinette frowns. “Say, where are you from, anyways? I know you’re from America, which explains why you have such horrible fashion sense, but where?” Marinette cracks a smile, thinking of Damian in American stereotypes.

“So what was it? A surfer? A cowboy? Oh my god, a skater boy,” she cackles. She can totally see it. The slightly rebellious slightly punk combo. There’s no way that Damian wasn’t a skater boy back in the states.

Damian looks insulted. “I was not a skater boy. If you must know, I’m from Gotham.”

Is that too much information? He regrets it almost as soon as the words are out of his mouth, but he has gotten too relaxed in her presence. That isn’t good. He can’t let things slip like that. He should have redirected her, let him think that he was from New York, or that he was a skater boy. If Marinette decides to look up Damian and Gotham, there are a good number of photos of him alongside his real last name. Then she’ll wonder why he lied to begin with. That will be bad. That can’t happen.

She considers him. “You’ve really got it rough, don’t you? Moving from one crime infested city to the next. Gotham’s worse, though. At least here, we’ve only got two overpowered villains and a bunch of victims. Over there… the likes of the Joker and Two-Face? They hurt people, and there’s no Miraculous Cure from Ladybug to fix the damage they’ve done. Honestly, I’m surprised that you don’t avoid danger at every turn.”

Gothamites do tend to avoid danger much more than their Parisian counterparts. Gothamites walk with purpose and are rarely out on the streets longer than they absolutely have to be; they’re a smart bunch, who don’t want to get involved if they don’t have to. Most people keep their cards close to their chest, and don’t let people know that they care.

Damian doesn’t think it’s bad, though he does have to admit that Paris is less dangerous. Frustrating, because he can’t do much when a situation arises, but it’s almost nice how normal he feels in Paris. That’s something he hasn’t gotten to experience much of, and while the first few days were weird, he’s settled into a sort of routine. He gets along with Marinette a hell of a lot better than any of his classmates back in Gotham, except for maybe Kent, but he and Kent rarely see each other during school hours.

Marinette breezes back to talking about fashion, almost as if she knows that she’s getting into territory that neither of them are quite ready to go into, and Damian gladly accepts it.

She claps her hands and says, “We’re going shopping. Let’s get you a wardrobe that makes your loved ones proud.”

It doesn’t escape Damian’s notice that she says loved ones instead of parents, and wonders if she knows more than he thinks she does. He wonders if she already knows that he’s Damian Wayne. Somehow, he doubts that she knows or cares that he is the son of an American billionaire with mommy issues. But it does feel good to have someone that doesn’t assume things about the state of his family. She’s been incredibly noninvasive and patient, backing off as soon as she thinks there’s a possible limit if he ever says more than he means to. Damian wonders if this courtesy is because she doesn’t want her own secrets to get out. It doesn’t matter, whatever the reason.

He’s glad for it.

They’re in her bedroom.

Damian lies on her chaise, tossing a stress ball that he finds on her desk. Marinette sits in her rolling chair, working on a commission.

“Ever thought of opening up a website?” Marinette’s room is nice. It has a feminine charm to it, but nothing overwhelming. Very different from Barbara’s chaotically organized room that has cold cases and theories lying around on every open surface and Cassandra’s weapon filled one.

Marinette hums. “I’ve thought about it. I don’t know if I want to. I don’t really have the technical expertise to make it happen.”

“You’ve got Nicolette. I wouldn’t be opposed to helping you with the technological aspect, either.”

At her desk, Marinette’s hands still. “The commissions I get just from word of mouth are pretty amazing. They’re also pretty time consuming.”

Damian can’t tell if he’s pushing too hard. If she’s uncomfortable with what he’s saying. Not for the first time since he’s been around Marinette, Damian wishes that he could read people better.

“But you want to be a fashion designer. You can only do so much with word of mouth.”

“I’ve got plenty of time,” Marinette counters. “I’ve got years before I can even think about making it big.”

This… annoys him for some reason. Marinette doesn’t have to wait for years before making a splash in the fashion industry. She already is. And she can make an even bigger one if she just makes a way for people to contact her reliably.

He sits up. “You are perfectly capable of achieving your dreams now.Why are you putting what you’re passionate about on hold? It makes little sense to limit yourself when there are celebrities around the world vying for a piece of yours. Even my brothers like your designs, and it’s difficult to catch their attention.”

Briefly, Damian wonders if his words would mean more to her if she knew he is a Wayne. That his brothers are Waynes-- the impossible to please, highly irritable Waynes. He shakes away the thought. Thanks to her everyday hero attitude, she’s gotten to meet a surprising amount of famous people or people on their way to fame, and she treats them no differently when she finds out.

What goes on inside the brain of Marinette is far beyond him. Every time he thinks he has her pegged, she does something that makes his assumptions wrong. It’s frustrating how little he knows about her when he is supposed to be one of the world’s greatest detectives. The one thing that doesn’t change, the only common thread that he can follow is that Marinette cares for people far better than most care for themselves.

It’s only been one month, but Marinette is passionate about everything she does, from helping out her parents at the bakery to all of the random acts of kindness she does around town. The good will she shows people on the streets, whether they’re down on their luck that day or are going through a rough patch is unconventional and awe-inspiring. Anyone she meets who’s in a really bad situation is immediately swept up into endless love and affection and she always continues to meet up with them when they need it. If she comes across a situation where she can help,Marinette always follows through. She drops everything for complete strangers that she meets.

So why can’t she take a stab at her own dreams?

“I don’t have time,” Marinette manages. Damian doesn’t think that he’s seen her breathe since they’ve started this conversation.

“Marinette. Look at me.”

She turns to him, eyes downcast and mind clearly elsewhere.

“Marinette.”

She looks at him. Damian is taken aback at the kind of blue her eyes are. Layers of different shades of blue with flecks that almost look silver surrounding her pupil. Even her eyes have freckles.

“You need to make the time.” And then, she looks so helpless, her eyes full of regret and confusion and anxiousness.

Damian wants to do something. With his hands, or feet, or something. He wants to move, he wants to hold her. He settles for running a hand through his hair, a highly unusual action. He likes his hair neat and doesn’t like tics. They make him feel weak. But if running his hand through his hair can stop him from reaching out to Marinette-- for what, Damian thinks, a hug?--then he’ll do it.

“I’m busy, Damian,” she says plaintively, like she’s begging him to believe her.

Why, though? Damian doesn’t understand. Why can’t she just make a website? God knows his brothers would be all over it. The only reason Tim hasn’t figured out her identity is because he respects the fact that MDC clearly does not want to go public. He’s been trying to hunt down an alternate way to get an MDC commission for months now and has only just stopped short of reaching out to Jagged himself. Damian doesn’t understand why he feels so frustrated at her lack of effort, either. He’s seen plenty of people around him in Gotham give up on their dreams in favor of more practical ways of life. People he knew that were talented and could make it, and he never, ever pushed them. Because it was their life. Their decisions. So why?

Why does it hurt so much when Marinette doesn’t follow her dreams?

“I see. Then if you’re so busy, maybe I should stop taking up your time.” The words taste like blood in his mouth. What is he doing? Being with Marinette makes him feel good. Like he’s worthy of being Bruce Wayne’s blood son and that he’s a good brother. Why should he give that up just because Marinette doesn’t want to grow up?

He drops through the trap door and closes it behind him. He goes back to the apartment his father bought him for his stay in Paris. It is empty, cold, and impersonal. For the first time since he’s met Marinette, Damian desperately wishes that the Justice League would give him permission to be Robin.

2:02 AM | Marinette: Damian?

Marinette: hey im sorry for

Marinette: honestly i don’t even know i

2:06 AM | Marinette: will you help me make a website?

2:10 AM | Damian: ok

Damian: i’ll come over tomorrow after school?

2:12 AM | Marinette: yeah

Marinette: that sounds good

3:30 AM | Marinette: im sorry i don’t really know what for but i’m sorry

Marinette: i felt really horrible

Marinette: im sorry

3:37 AM | Damian: you need to learn how to take care of yourself before you take care of others

Damian: please.

#miraculous ladybug #dcu #mlb x dc #maribat #daminette #damian wayne is robin #sbgs #original content #adrien agreste #lila rossi #marinette dupain cheng #damian wayne

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tv-music · 3 years

Text

Umbrella Academy 1.06 Review

The Day That Wasn’t

Episode 6 begins with a look into what the past 10 months for Klaus have been like, he disappeared from the bus and was dumped slap bang into the middle of a war zone. In the midst of the war, Klaus found love and looked genuinely happy for the first time since we met him. Back in present day he appears to be flushing his stash when Luther interrupts and announces it’s time for a family meeting - yeah cus they always go so well. Luther then brings all of the siblings (apart from Vanya) up to speed, announcing the world's ending in 3 days, also dropping on them that they have technically already tried, and failed to stop it. Luther's not much of a leader, the meeting ends with not one of them on board to try to stop it, and all deciding to spend the time they have left dealing with their own issues

Hazel and Cha Cha arrive back at their motel, bickering like an old married couple, having just been played by some of the Hargreeve siblings. To make things worse they receive a message that they are no longer trying to kill Five and are to wait for further instructions. The moment Hazel leaves the motel room however, Cha Cha gets those further instructions - exterminate Hazel.

Cha Cha leads Hazel out to the woods, ready to complete her next assignment and kill her partner but she can’t do it - maybe she’s not as heartless as she seems.

She seems to regret that decision when she realises that Hazel is falling for Agnes - was this romantic jealousy or simply the fact that she has no one but him and he’s clearly planning to leave the business (I can’t imagine Agnes would be interested in his life as an assassin)

The Handler is giving Five the grand tour of the Commission's headquarters, and in turn we get a look into how this all works. It was definitely easier to follow than I thought it would be. Five is given his case and The Handler leaves him to it, seemingly happy with how things have played out - surely she doesn’t think it will be that easy

Five is seen to be working hard, and making it abundantly clear that he does not want to make friends. As he goes to send a message to the field agents, The Handler stops him and checks what it is he’s up to, she doesn’t trust him, which is fair, but in this instance, he was simply doing his job, or so it would seem. That is of course until he steals a file on the Apocalypse trying to gain information on the situation, well no one can say Five isn’t trying

Five finally puts his plan into action, knocking poor Gloria out, sending individual instructions to Hazel and Cha Cha to take each other out, before stealing a briefcase, destroying the Commission’s storage locker full of them to make sure he can’t be followed and blowing The Handler up in the process. He also saw the original message that Gloria was supposed to send to Hazel and Cha Cha - protect Harold Jenkins

Vanya arrives at The Umbrella Academy, while her siblings are still having their ‘meeting’, having not been invited - that’s just going to push her further into Leonard’s grip. Leonard of course makes an excuse to go back into the house and steals one of the action figures of Reginald - I’m starting to get the feeling that his plan has more to do with the academy than it does with Vanya.

Vanya’s understandably angry when she leaves the house, and while she walks down the street, ranting to Leonard, she’s causing all kinds of mayhem in the process - the girl has some power behind her. Later in the day she finds her Dad’s journal, documenting that she has ‘uncontrollable power’ and that he has begun sedating her.

Klaus wants to get sober in order to speak with Dave, but being aware of the hold his addiction has on him he asks Diego to help him - and of course by helping him he means to tie him up as tightly as possible so that he physically can’t get high. One of my favourite moments of the episodes - and possibly the series so far - was seeing Klaus and Diego open up to each other, it was a really touching moment in what has been a crazy show so far. Klaus is a hilarious character who is often the one providing the laughs - it's a testament to the actor that he can pull on the viewers heartstrings just as easily. Another Klaus scene that got to me this episode was Dave’s death, it was heartbreaking to see Klaus desperately shout for a medic when we all knew it was too late, not going to lie, it brought tears to my eyes. He finally got sober enough to see Dave but as the title told us, this was never going to stick.

As Five finished causing chaos at the Commission, he used the briefcase to return to his siblings, arriving in the middle of the family meeting from the beginning of the episode and in doing so, reversing everything we have just seen - the only person’s day that actually happened now, is Five’s. He hands them the instructions for Hazel and Cha Cha that he intercepted and they respond with, ‘Who the hell is Harold Jenkins?’ - I would put money on the fact that it’s Leonard’s real name, and that every viewer put two and two together when watching the episode

Extra Thoughts:

I know she’s a supposed to a villain, but I love The Handler, I hope she’s not gone for good

I know I haven’t mentioned Luther and Alison’s ‘day that wasn’t’ but that’s because there is nothing about that part of the episode I want to remember - still gives me the ick

Reginald sent Luther to the moon simply to ‘give him a purpose’ - seemed like a polite way of saying get rid of him if you ask me. Reginald really was a cold bastard

The Handler has sweets that actually tastes of specific decades - I wonder who decides what the decades taste like

Five’s clearly a much better leader than Luther, it took him less than 60 seconds to get his siblings to agree to stop the Apocalypse

#tua #the umbrella academy #five hargreeves #ben hargreeves #diego hargreeves #luther hargreeves #alison hargreeves #vanya hargreeves #pogo #reginald hargreeves #hazel #cha cha #the handler #tua review #review

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talesofarcadiafancon · 3 years

Text

Tales of Arcadia FanCon: FAQ

--FREQUENTLY ASKED QUESTIONS--

(Will be updated regularly)

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Will this cost money to attend?

Not at all! The event will be completely free to attend.

Is there an option to donate to charity?

Of course! We gently suggest that attendees make a donation to the Anton Yelchin Foundation in memory of Anton Yelchin, the original voice actor for Jim Lake Jr. However, this is not required to attend the convention.

Is this an official Dreamworks event? Nope! Tales of Arcadia FanCon is run by and for fans. We are not associated with Dreamworks, Netflix, or any corporations. What website/format will the convention use?

Tales of Arcadia FanCon will be hosted through Discord, in its own server that’s being set up to accommodate all of the features we’ve talked about. You will need to create a free Discord account well before the convention in order to access the convention. When is this happening? Tales of Arcadia FanCon is being held in 2021, before the release of the feature film Trollhunters: Rise of the Titans. We are still working with our special guests to work out an exact date, so be sure to follow this blog for more updates!

If the convention is being held in 2021, why are you announcing it so early?

The short answer: we want to be fully prepared as soon as possible.

The long answer: Because we don't have an exact date for the con yet (we'll figure that out once we get closer to the movie premiere date and work it out with our special guests), we want to be ready as if the convention is happening in January. For that to happen, we need to gather data from the interest survey, answer your questions, get artists and authors on board - keep an eye out for applications opening soon! - approve merchant shops, etc. Although the convention has been in the works for several months now, we want to keep up the pace so that everything is ready to go well before the con date. What safety features will the con have? Tales of Arcadia FanCon has multiple verification processes in place to prevent bots, as well as a team of staff to make sure everything runs smoothly. The events with special guests have additional safety measures in place. If you have a specific concern, please don’t hesitate to reach out to us!

Is Tales of Arcadia FanCon associated with other Tales of Arcadia fan servers on Discord?

No. Tales of Arcadia FanCon is being held in its own independent server and is not affiliated with any other Discord servers. You will not need to be a member of any other server to attend Tales of Arcadia FanCon.

This sounds cool! How can I get involved? You can fill out our survey to help us refine the convention even more and indicate your interest in attending!

Check our pinned post to access the interest survey!

The interest survey is only open until December 15th, 2020. Be sure to fill it out as soon as you can!

If you’d like to take a more active position in the convention, you have options as well.

If you’re an artist or author who creates fan content for Tales of Arcadia, you can apply to be a Featured Artist or Author - if accepted, this will give you your own “booth” at the convention to show off your works and advertise commissions! Follow this blog to get notified when applications open.

If you create original merchandise related to Tales of Arcadia, you can apply to be a Merchant and be able to advertise your wares at the con! Follow this blog to get notified when applications open.

At this time, we are recruiting Staff members by invitation only. We may open applications for Staff in the future depending on the results of the interest survey.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

UPDATE #1:

Are Staff members eligible for the Featured Creator application process?

No. Members of our Staff team are automatically disqualified from applying to be a Featured Creator to ensure fair judgement of applications. We are looking into alternative ways of showcasing art and writing from our talented Staff, but this will not in any way affect the Featured Creator process.

What if I want to help out as a Staff member?

As stated, we are currently not actively seeking out new Staff members (list of all current Staff can be found here). However, this may change in the future depending on the needs of the FanCon, as determined by data from the Interest Survey. If you feel strongly about your interest in joining the Staff, please send a private DM to this blog. We may or may not process your request right away, and the decision-making process will be highly selective out of an abundance of caution.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

UPDATE #2:

If I am an Artist who is not a Featured Artist, will I be able to advertise my commissions at the FanCon?

If you are not a Featured Artist, you will not be permitted to directly link your commissions in the FanCon. If someone directly asks for your commission information, we ask that you take the conversation outside of the Con. The Tales of Arcadia FanCon is not intended purely as a self-promotion event, and content provided by Featured Artists will be vetted by Staff prior to the event to ensure that it meets our standards and guidelines for the FanCon (see below). As such, Staff will not permit any external links sent in the Con that were not arranged beforehand, such as Merchant shops and Featured Artist and Author pages/commissions.

How will Featured Artists and Authors set up their “booths” ahead of time?

Featured Artists and Authors who pass the application process will be allowed into the FanCon Discord server ahead of time to set up their personal channels with their creative work and commission information. Staff will oversee the process.

What kind of content will be allowed in the FanCon? Can I share NSFW or [insert ship here]?

Tales of Arcadia FanCon is a SFW event. There will be no content that includes nudity, gore, sexual content, or “dead dove”. This includes romantic content between adult and minor characters. For the purposes of the FanCon, Staff will consider Draal and Douxie to be adults.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

If you have a question that hasn’t been answered here, please feel free to send an ask or DM!

#tales of arcadia #toa #trollhunters #3below #toa wizards #toawizards #3 below #toa trollhunters #toa 3below #faq #toafancon

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liquidcryptogoldcash · 3 years

Text

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yukiwrites · 3 years

Text

Balthus, Ruining Everything

Thank you so much for the support and the patience as always, @xpegasusuniverse! I hope you like it~

Summary: Khalid had returned home ready to work hard to become a worthy King so as to strengthen relations with Fódlan. However, bringing Balthus along was a terrible mistake, no matter how much of his own word he had given in the past. How could he ruin even a traditional sport of Almyra?!

Commission info HERE and HERE!

______________________________

Despite the eventual skirmishes against Fódlan, it wasn't as though the entirety of Almyra was focused on their shared border. It was a large country, with hundreds of thousands of people going on with their lives despite the war.

As diverse as its culture was, however, all of Almyra joined together to celebrate and participate in their most popular sport: the national Yağlı güreş. It was a practice Khalid had had little contact with throughout his life (especially after enrolling in the Officer's Academy), apart from watching his father's eventual matches during his childhood, so he was looking forward to organizing everything for this year's tournament.

He came back after the Yağlı güreş season had started around the kingdom, though he still had time to prepare for the Kırkpınar that would occur at the capitol, a few weeks from now. Since he was also accumulating more and more duties for the eventual ascension to the throne, Khalid welcomed the responsibility readily.

He would be in charge of overseeing the quality, quantity and storage of the oil; ordering the fields to be cleaned for the matches; sending out invitations to honored guests; preparing the venue; separating the budget for the eventual prize and so on.

The Grand Championship consisted not only of the winners from the provinces but also of wrestlers that lived in the capitol per se, with the last one standing to challenge the current Baspehlivan, Nader. Should they win, they would be allowed to choose between the prize money and a favor from the King -- though the former had so many restrictions barely anyone chose it, prefering to go with the money instead.

Khalid was almost humming to himself as he scratched his chin with the feather pen he was using to sign some reports.

His small bubble of joy burst the moment the door to his office opened with a bang, revealing the one 6'6'' oaf Khalid did not want to see for at least another decade.

"Hey there, bud!" Balthus greeted, already making himself comfortable on the chair in front of Claude's desk. "I got kicked outta the field just now 'cause they're terraforming or somethin'. You know anything about it?"

"Annnd my peace is gone, isn't it. I can feel it." Khalid muttered to himself, though loud enough for Balthus to hear and ignore. Sighing, the prince straightened his back, not even bothering to look at the man who's come to make a mess out of his family. "In a month, we'll be hosting the Grand Championship of Yağlı güreş, and I want everything to be done beforehand so there are no complications."

"Yagli- what's that? I saw some huge barrels being unloaded on my way here, too, do they have anything to do with this? Is it a party? Booze!?" Balthus got more and more excited as he prattled on, almost banging his huge hands on Claude's table.

Groaning, the prince finally put his pen down, afraid that that oaf would destroy anything, or worse -- mess up the piles of 'read' and 'unread' reports, which would take at least another day of work to organize again.

"Yağlı güreş means 'oil wrestling'. It's the oldest sport practiced in Almyra and also a national sport."

Balthus snorted, then placed his fist atop his palm, as though remembering something. "Wait, I saw some dudes doing something like that back in some underground arenas! I didn't know it was an almyran sport, though, nice."

"Yeah, 'nice'." Khalid rolled his eyes, intent on going back to his work.

Balthus didn't move, though, and just made himself comfortable on the chair, as though he intended to spend the time he couldn't spend training, bothering Claude instead. "Anything else?"

"Muh? Nah, I'm good, thanks."

"..." Khalid narrowed his eyes to the large man, placing his chin atop his clasped hands. "Hey, you know what? Why don't you try it?"

"What? Oil wrestling?" Balthus was so focused on rubbing the dirt from under his nail he had to blink to look up to Claude. "What's in it for me?"

"For one, you can train for it so you'll have your training grounds back. I'll even introduce you to an old Master who doesn't have ciraks so he can teach you everything about oil wrestling."

Balthus twisted his lips, shifting his weight towards Khalid as though waiting to hear something more. "Yeah? Sounds fun."

"... There's also prize money if you win."

"Oh yeah, babey, now you're talking!" Balthus jumped up, the action shaking Claude's table, threatening to mess up his papers. "Where's that Master?"

Khalid quickly slapped his stacks of documents before they all scattered due to the oaf's rough movements and sighed. "Call the attendant standing outside, I'll have him send word for you."

Balthus was taken outside the palace, to the Master's residence. From the looks of it, that man had been competing since his youth, but never found a pupil worthy of his skills -- though now he had to accept Balthus due to the royal decree, so he wasn't too happy about all of this.

However, once the master saw Balthus' physique, his attitude did a 180º change.

"I will show you the ways to win quickly. You're big, but your opponents will be more experienced, so you'll want to quickly slide your hands into their kispets to pin them down."

Balthus sputtered. "I gotta wha-"

"Of course, it is forbidden to get actually intimate with your opponent -- you'll have to be respectful! -- but as long as there are no genitalia touching, you'll do great." The man brushed his beard with one hand, waving to a servant with the other. "Now go on, change into your trousers. I'll show you everything I know."

"This is insane. I love it." Balthus gurgled a laugh as the master pushed him to follow the servant.

Truly there was no time for Balthus to learn the actual techniques, though him being a former soldier with stamina to spare was a major plus. These matches could go on for hours or even days, so one had to be thoroughly prepared before every single one of them.

Balthus even stayed over the master's manor for the duration of his training, which made Khalid incredibly thankful. The prince never thought the oaf would actually go through with it, but he wasn't about to complain about the peace and quiet he finally got, no way. Nope.

On the eve of the championship, the master invited Balthus for dinner, feeling excited about Yağlı güreş for the first time in a few decades. "Truly, the only worthy foe to ever enter the field was His Majesty Arash, though he was still only a prince back then."

Balthus stopped his fork immediately, his interest piqued. "... oh yeah? Arash was good at this back in the day, huh?" he licked his lips. "Can I fight him?"

"Pftt-ahah!" The old man snorted, coughing a laugh along with the tea he just drank. "You want to challenge the King to a bout, boy? Don't be ridiculous."

"No, I'm serious. How can I fight him?"

If he could get himself all over Arash while covered in oil, wouldn't that be amazing or what?!

Twisting his lips, the old man started thinking. "Well, if you really wanted to, I don't think there are restrictions about that if you use it as your prize from winning the championship."

"What? Wasn't it just money?"

"Technically it's all people pick, but you can choose between that or a wish for the King or Queen to grant. Though there are so many restrictions it's just easier to go with the money."

"Oh, fuck yes. I gotta win this." Balthus rolled his shoulders in anticipation. His chest even got all hot and bothered just by imagining his hands going down Arash's- hnn!

"Haha, that's the spirit, boy! Winning against Nader will be hard, but I wouldn't have trained you if I didn't think you couldn't win!"

The two shared a loud laugh before gulping down their drinks, both of them hopeful for tomorrow's events.

Khalid hadn't heard from Balthus ever since he'd sent him to train, so he was actually surprised to see him amongst the competitors -- even more so to watch him climb the ranks so quickly despite being a foreigner who just got introduced to the practice.

The audience murmured amongst themselves, wondering where that strange man had come from; a mix of not wanting outsiders to meddle with their beloved sport along with the right amount of excitement about the fresh meat on stage.

When Balthus, already so greasy he actually reflected light, started the match against the defending champion, Nader, Khalid felt a foreboding premonition.

What could it be? Why would he feel like that?

Was it because, no matter the outcome, Balthus would just return to the castle and keep bothering him? Or was it due to something else? Usually, his gut feelings were always right, but this time he couldn't quite pinpoint what it was warning him about.

Since everything pertaining to Balthus was just a big disgrace in Khalid's eyes. What else could that man do to ruin the prince's days?

"We have a winner! What a surprising turn of events! The outsider, Balthus, defeats our champion by paca kazik!"

"Paca kazik? How did he get so good?" Khalid murmured as Balthus kissed Nader's hand as it was customary before helping the older man up and giving him a huge thank you hug.

The announcer started the usual speech about allowing the competitor a choice, though was already meaning to introduce Khalid so the prince could handle the prize money to the winner when Balthus took a step forward.

"I want to have a wish granted!" He spoke in a loud voice, which reverberated through the open field as though he was using amplifying magic. The audience gasped in unison followed by the sound of all heads turning to the King and Queen who sat beside Khalid.

Tiana narrowed her eyes, always wary of the libertinous man. "Speak."

"I want to challenge the former Baspehlivan, His Majesty Arash, to a match!"

Loud gasps of surprise from all sides echoed around the field, the eyes alternating between the bold foreigner and the silent Royals.

"I will not-" Tiana started to reply immediately, but Arash's hand on hers stopped the Queen's words. Surprised, she looked at her husband, intent on not allowing that man near Arash, when the look on his face made her lose the air.

He was smiling so excitedly! It had been years since he had participated in a match and Tiana knew the sport meant a lot to him, especially since he held the title of Baspehlivan for over a decade before stepping down to ascend the throne. The Queen's shoulders sagged, though her frown remained.

"Dear, that man has no pure intentions-"

Arash ran his thumb through Tiana's hand. "I know, my dear wife. Worry not; I'll put him in his place."

Then it all clicked for Khalid.

That foreboding he felt wasn't about Balthus returning to the castle, but about him slathering himself with oil and rubbing it all on his own father! Gods, he was about to gag. "Father, you're not planning to-"

"I will accept your challenge!" Arash spoke in a loud voice, cutting his son and any curious murmur around the spectators. "Shall we being right away, contender?"

"Oh hell yeah, sir." Balthus rubbed his hands, hopping in place to get his blood flowing.

"Allow me to change," Arash got up from his seat, placing a kiss on Tiana before turning back to the changing room right outside.

Khalid shot up from his spot, stomping towards Balthus, who had gone into a tent to hydrate himself.

"What are you thinking? You could've just accepted the money and finally rid yourself of your debts-"

Balthus raised his index as he gulped the water. "Hah, and miss getting into your dad's pants? No way in hell, kid!"

Khalid took a step back, his face entirely pale. In your dad's pants, in your dad's pants, in your dad'-

"Ugh, yuck, I-" the prince gagged, covering his face with one hand lest he threw up there and then.

"Catch ya later, I'm about to get laid!" Balthus slapped Claude's back before stepping out of the tent, heading back to the center of the field just as Arash approached.

Khalid couldn't watch.

He just couldn't.

Once the referee signaled the start of the match, both men threw themselves at one another, sliding around the greasy grass from all the oil that slid down from the competitors.

Balthus almost broke the 'no intimate touching' rule three times in less than ten minutes, his huge hands not being of any help as he tried to literally get into Arash's pants.

That man was built like a rock! And Balthus had wrestled against many tough guys back in his day.

Gods, just feeling Arash's rasped breathing by his ear and feeling his hands try to grab his trousers made him-

"I'm having the time of my life here, Arash." Balthus panted as they slid off of each other for a moment before joining together one more time.

"Stop, stop, stooop, I can even hear it from this far!" Khalid covered his face with both hands, groaning so loud it looked like he was in physical pain.

The worst part was yet to come, however.

The match simply didn't end!

Both sides were almost evenly matched to the point that one couldn't get a definite grab on the other's trousers, stretching the match for one hour. Two hours.

When it was about to tick three hours, Khalid was already sure he was dead. He had died and came back to life at least five thousand times just by watching that pervert roll around his father for so long. The few times he stole glances at them, he could clearly see Balthus trying to break the rules, though Arash was always fast enough to counter it before being violated.

"Let this end, let this end, let this-" Khalid chanted under his breath with closed eyes, praying to every single god he knew of.

"Annd match! It seems like our former Grand Champion hasn't lost his edge yet, folks! Let's give a round of applause to our King, folks!" The announcer quickly got up from the place he had been sitting since one hour ago, dodging the greasy spots on the grass to approach the combatants.

Arash smirked to the fallen Balthus as the young man faced the sky with wide eyes.

"I lost?" He babbled as he watched the King walk away, the memory of that winning smirk etched into his mind. "That was... hot! What the fuck, and I thought they couldn't get hotter? This couple is turning out to be the best investment I've ever done in my life. No way I'm leaving this place now."

Too far away to hear Balthus' monologue, Khalid shuddered with yet another foreboding feeling. What else was Balthus going to ruin next?!

#fire emblem three hourses #fe3h #balthus fire emblem #claude fire emblem #khalid fire emblem #balthus #khalid #claude #my writings #Yuki's commissions

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