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#it's not a surprise that an italian parent would not understand a single thing about mental illness but it'd be nice if after all this time
chrashley · 10 days
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I really love your posts!! So here’s another headcanon prompt for you: what would the counselors’ backgrounds/childhoods be like?
The game doesn’t really give us backstory information for the characters so I would like to see someone else’s thoughts!
thank u so much!! <3
kaitlyn
- only daughter of 5 kids, 2 older and 3 younger brothers - her mother is a Chinese immigrant and her father is Korean, raised in the US kaitlyn was often overlooked as a child because her mother only wanted boys- she became close with her father and he's the reason she's so handy. her brothers are sporty and scholarly but she was mediocre in both but excelled in mechanics
jacob
- youngest of 3 biological brothers, 1 older stepbrother - his parents are divorced and he was never close with his bio mom as a kid jacob's father struggled financially being a single dad to 3 boys, but when he was 12, his father started dating a very kind woman who, along with her son mike, integrated seamlessly into their family
nick
- has one older sister, non-biological - he's half white Australian and half Māori, but he was adopted by Italian parents who were also born and raised in Australia nick was raised extremely catholic. he's extremely close to his sister- she's the biological daughter of his adoptive parents- and she's always been someone he can rely on. they moved out together about a year pre-game and they're helping each other process leaving the catholic church
abi
- oldest of three sisters - her parents are still together "for the girls" but it's honestly making things worse abi was raised by crunchy granola parents- that is to say, she was raised organic and free-range. the only thing that remains from this is that she's a vegetarian. her mother nearly fainted when she came home with a tattoo because "the ink could get into her blood and poison her with carcinogens"
emma
- only child - lovey-dovey dads who cherry picked a surrogate mother so they could have the perfect beautiful daughter emma was a spoiled child, this shouldn't come as a surprise- but there's a reason she was so spoiled. she was an extremely talented child, doing a lot of theater activities from around the time she was 6, and her dads have always been her biggest cheerleaders (and drama enthusiasts). her dads met while one was in school in France- mr. mountebank is a French immigrant!
ryan
- oldest of two, sarah is 6 years younger than him - considers his grandparents his mom and dad ryan's father died in an accident when he was 10 and his mother only stops by occasionally to butter him and sarah up on birthdays, so he's only truly felt parental love from his grandparents. they've always encouraged him in everything he does, even if they don't understand. sarah is having a difficult time with her teenage years considering the familial breaks but ryan does his best to make sure she always knows he's there
dylan
-only child - sperm donor baby it's always been just dylan and his mom! they're extremely close and do nearly everything together. she was there with him when he got his first tattoo and when he came out as gay to her she was incredibly supportive. his cat (an important family member) was just a kitten when dylan found him crying in a bush while walking to school. dylan proceeded to ditch school to take care of the kitty and now he's named after a well loved physics concept and in a happy family
laura
- oldest sister to a pair of boy-girl twins 5 years younger than her - happy southern parents laura was raised on a farm in south carolina where her family fostered rescue dogs, and it's where she developed a passion for animals. her mother is a businesswoman and her father is a charming, progressive southern man
max
- somewhere on the younger half of 8 siblings. he's 1 of 9 - fundamental southern baptist parents max's childhood was... interesting. he was mostly raised by his older sisters and was very easily overlooked due to his age and meekness. he moved out of his family home at 18 when his parents tried really hard to marry him off to a girl from another large family and he wasn't having it. he met laura while volunteering at a local animal shelter as he was trying to find his purpose
oof. this is quite a post
@hedwig123 - i got your ask, but didn't answer it because i thought it tied in nicely with this one! i hope you don't mind :)
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uhlunaro · 9 months
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hi hi heartrrot here, ok ok FIRST OF ALL HAPPY BIRTHDAYYYY <333 i hope you have a nice day :)) second of all... you ask for headcanons i will SERVE !
leon
hates seafood
nose, feet and ears are ALWAYS ice cold. yet he refuses to wear socks or a hat when it's freezing outside
he has one of those fancy watch boxes... secretly a big spender but like what else is he gonna spend his insane salary on
i actually think he's kind of fashionable (i cannot stop thinking about his of re2 concept art outfit) but he forgoes it for the sake of comfort and practicality... usually.
claire taught him how to ride motorcycles :)
definitely liked video games as a kid... doesn't really play them anymore but it was his fav past-time in the police academy
will comment on the inaccuracies of action/crime shows. impossible to watch tv with ngl
chris
allergic to seafood and fish AND peanuts. has to ask if you've had any before kissing (risks his life for the drama sometimes though)
utterly terrible at board/card games. always loses money when playing poker with his team and yet is angry and surprised every single time
has punched a wall at one point. redfield rage am i right
everyone always asks him to go on fishing trips cause he looks like the type but he'd honestly rather die than stare at a body of water for 5 hours in the hopes of catching something he can't even eat
enjoyer of cable knit sweaters secretly (manwhore)
pretty good cook! took care of dinner for him and claire back in the day considering she's hopeless in the kitchen. he doesn't have much energy for it usually though
he and claire are like. fanatical fans of a specific football team. they go all out. screaming in front of the tv (he has extra data on his phone so he can keep up with games when he has the time on missions) (it was probably their dad's favourite team)
he likes giving gifts hehe :) would honestly just buy you anything you want if it makes you happy (would impulsively buy cars, houses, you name it)
claire
loves seafood and is upset no one around her eats it
SWEARS shes not into girly stuff but she secretly loves pink and has a duvet cover with strawberries on it
not a sweet tooth but she puts 3 sugar packets into her coffee for ''energy'' (hates the taste of coffee)
is big on being clean, despite her often grimey job, she wants to smell and feel good so her shower routine takes ages
knows a lot about car and bike work, she had a part time job at a garage in high school
she listens to her parent's cassette tapes when she's sad, music is a big thing for her to remember people by. (she assigns people songs too, Leon's is the one they heard on the radio when they were flipping through radio stations on the way to raccoon city)
I'm pretty sure this is actually canon but she needs glasses hheheeh, always sat in the back of class though despite not being able to read... anything. didn't wear them due to vanity for a while but now she switched to contacts
looked up to jill a lot in her formative years
a natural mother but scared of pregnancies, after all the body horror she's seen something growing inside of her feels utterly wrong. doesn't mean it would never happen though.
luis
smokes half a packet a day (he would have been dead by 40 regardless)
cause of this vice he kind of smells bad (i mean. i don't mind it but he thinks he does) so he uses way too much cologne to compensate. it just ends up making it worse
huge bookworm !!!!! loves reading, especially historical novels but he kind of eats up the shitty romance novels too (like the vampire and pirate ones)
taking up on that he really loves love? hopeless romantic at heart he just thinks he's not good enough of a person to really deserve it if he's honest, still craves affection and attention more than anyone else so in that way he is kind of a ladies (people) man
vacations to those awful crowded Italian beach towns once a year (this might be a European thing but oh well)
detests pickles. does not understand why people eat vinegar
can't drive. walks or takes public transport
more sensitive than he lets on
LOOOVEEES touching. loves it. always needs his hands on you (but preferably you having his hands on him)
anyway,,, hope u enjoy MWAH i'll sign off with 📝 from now on hehe
OH MY GOD THESE ARE SO WONDERFUL AND LOVELY ARE U KIDDING ME!!!! IM FEASTING ON THEM EATIN EM UP!!!!!!!!
also THANK U SO MUCH BESTIE WAHHHHHH
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juwon-ah-moved · 3 years
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2nd time in less than 24 hours that i get told by my parents to get over my anxiety. well, okay
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erodasfishtacos · 3 years
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Not So Easy
prompt: Harry and Y/N have both had a rough week. Ivy is in the prime of her terrible twos. It’s a disaster waiting to happen.
word count: 6.2k
warnings: swearing, smut, a little angst
AN: Fulfilling this request ***. This is part of the CEO!Harry verse. If you enjoy please like, reblog, and come chat with me about it x 
*** <--- click for visuals
-----
It was a gorgeous, cool Saturday evening and Y/N had been cooped up in the house all week due to nasty rainstorms that lasted the whole week. All of Y/N’s friends had canceled plans for one reason or another. Anne came down with flu and couldn’t visit like she was suppose to.
Harry had an extra awful week at work - which was saying something - and hadn’t been able to let it go. The frustration and irritation he usually was good at leaving at the office at the end of the workday hadn’t been happening.
Ivy was in the midst of her terrible twos and quite frankly it was disaster for all of them.
They decided on one of their favorite restaurants about an hour outside of London near the beautiful, green countryside. ***
It was a family-owned Italian establishment with outside seating on the patio. The tables were filled but Harry always managed to squeeze himself into a non-existent reservation with his charm (and wallet).
When they’re escorted onto the deck, Ivy had Harry hitched up on his hip and wriggles her into her wooden high-chair with little difficulty - she had just woken up from a nap and was in a seemingly okay mood.
Y/N notices a few pairs of eyes watching them from the table close to theirs but decided that she was just being paranoid. And if she brought it up to Harry she knows he’d immediately tell them to fuck off and mind their business. 
They get Ivy settled with her favorite little sensory book and her plush baby doll ***, as they look at the menu, “I’m so hungry,” Y/N grumbles, unable to decide what she wants to eat, Ivy literally running her around all day with no time for refueling.
“Me too, y’didn’t let me finish my meal earlier,” Harry murmurs cheekily, looking at his wife over his menu with a raised eyebrow, “Guess I’ll just have to wait for dessert.”
“Baba’s asleep, she was out as soon as her head hit the pillow,” Harry tells his wife, trotting in their bedroom. He’s already stripping the shirt off his head and wriggling his running shorts down his narrow hips.
Y/N’s laying on the bed, too distracted by her romance novel to notice Harry’s actions - well until he yanks at her ankles until her bum skids towards the end of the bed, she lets out a surprise yelp at her husband’s strength.
He plucks the book from her hands and tosses it to the floor with a thump. His hands are hurriedly reaching to pull down her shorts and panties with impatience at having his wife bare before him.
“Someone’s a bit horny,” Y/N teases, raising her hips to let him slide them down before they join the book on the floor. He ducks down to bite at the soft skin of her hip bone, suckling a dark mark there in ownership.
“Have y’seen yourself, pet?” Harry replies lowly, unable to help himself as he dips down and swipes a long, languid lip up her center with no warning. It has her moaning and pushing herself into his mouth.
“We don’t have long, H. Need you in me,” His wife whines, pulling him up by his hair until he’s slipping his tongue right into her mouth, wasting no time to hike her hips up around his waist and pushing in with one strong, directive thrust.
Y/N blushes and darts her eyes back down to the menu, “If you’re good, maybe I’ll let you.”
Harry laughs, eyes wrinkling around the corners, “Y’know even when I’m not good, y’let me.”
It was very very true.
“Oops!” Ivy squeals when her doll falls to the ground. It was one of the new words she’s finally understood in context and it’s unbelievably cute to hear her high, little squeaky voice.
“S’alright, here you go bab,” Harry titters, reaching down to toss it back onto the table for his daughter. She looked so fucking adorable tonight in what Y/N had dressed her in a little Gucci jean jacket with matching jeans. ***
Ivy manages to keep herself pretty occupied until she needs a diaper change. The meals had just arrived, steaming hot and smelling like heaven, but Y/N slings their diaper bag over her shoulder and totes the baby off to the bathroom.
Harry watches them, like the protector he is until they make it to the bathroom safely. He can sense eyes on him (the same group Y/N thought was watching) but unlike his wife, Harry makes eye contact with the table who were staring directly at his wife and then him.
“Can I fuckin’ help you?” Harry asks bluntly, not hesitating to stare down every single person at the table. He didn't want anyone staring at them, staring at Y/N, staring at Ivy. He wanted to enjoy his dinner in peace with his family. He assumed they probably worked for him.
They avert their gaze from the intense man, acting nonchalantly and sipping at their glasses filled with wine as if they weren’t just staring at them. It makes Harry scoff loudly enough so that they can hear it.
When Y/N appears back with Ivy and attempts to plop her back into her seat, her limbs go wiggly and her eyebrow knits with refusal, letting out little kicks, “No mummy, no!”
“Baby, we’ve got to eat now. How ‘bout after we’re done?” Y/N hums in her daughter’s ear, attempting to steady the toddler’s legs to slide into the slots of the chair. 
Y/N knew it was going to be a struggle since Y/N told Ivy she couldn’t have the big stuffed animal that was in the gift shop on the way to the bathroom.
“Mummy! Don’t wanna!” Ivy protests loudly, her face pinched with her terrible twos anger as she squirms and twists in her mother’s grip.
“S’okay, give her to me,” Harry tells his wife, taking Ivy in his lap. She smiles with deep dimples up at her father before going to reach her little fingers into his pasta. “No, Ivy. S’hot, it’s goin’ to burn you.”
Ivy pulls her brows together, decidedly not liking what her dad had to say, because she’s reaching out once again. “Ivy, daddy said ‘no’. Be a good girl and listen.”
“Mine.” Oh god, her favorite word at the moment.
“Ivy Elizabeth, s’not yours. S’daddy’s. Mummy ordered you chicken, which she very nicely cut up for you. You need to eat that, lovie,” Harry uses a bit of a firmer voice with the little girl, pulling her plate of cubed of food over.
“Here, bub,” Y/N takes a small piece, bringing it up to her daughter’s full lips. Only to be met with a hand batting it away until it’s being flung limply to the wood floor with a screech.
“No, want that,” Ivy huffs, once again reaching for her father’s steaming plate. She’s nearly close to getting her finger into the burning sauce so Harry has to scoot his chair out a bit so she can’t reach it anymore.
The parents give each other a knowing look because of what is surely about to come. The baby was struggling with being told ‘no’ as of late, as well as claiming nearly everything as ‘mine’. Tantrums were in their prime right now and they thought the pre-dinner nap would have helped.
Spoiler Alert: It doesn’t.
When Ivy realizes she’s no longer able to reach the food, she furrows her brow and pulls back her little fist, hitting at her father’s shoulder. It wasn’t often she tried to hit, likely because most times it landed her on the step for two minutes, but it’s like she knew they couldn’t do that here.
“Ivy,” Harry takes her small hands between his, “We do not hit, do you understand Daddy? S’not nice. If you can’t behave, you’re not getting ice cream before we go home.”
At that point, the little girl would normally calm down a bit and readjust because she really loved ice cream but it didn’t do anything to quell her anger tonight. She shakes her head, curly hair bouncing, before the tears start rolling.
“Should we just get this to go?” Y/N asks, knowing that the whole restaurant doesn’t want to hear the sobbing baby throwing a fit over not being able to dig her hands into her father’s dinner plate. 
“Probably best,” Harry grunts when Ivy wriggles and twists in her father’s grip with a frustrated whine, “She’s not goin’ to settle.”
“Down, let me down!” Ivy demands against her father’s grip, like she’s the one running the show. 
“Here, give her to me,” Y/N mutters, wrangling the toddler into a tight hold while Harry gets the waiter’s attention to get take away boxes and the check. He’s pulling out his wallet to slide out his black amex and put it on the table.
“Ivy, I’m going to put you down so I can get the diaper bag and your toys. Are you going to stay right next to mummy?” Y/N asks her daughter firmly, making sure her daughter’s little green eyes are meeting hers. 
Ivy nods but as soon as her feet hit the solid ground, she lets out a giggle and dashes from beside her mother. She doesn’t get very far because she’s running straight into the legs of another patron and tumbling on her bum.
She’s not at all hurt but takes it as an advantage to throw herself onto the floor, screaming and tears - the whole dramatic show because she’s not getting her way and well....she’s a two year old - that’s all the reason she needs, right?
Harry’s in full dad mode now, “I’ll get her to the car. Y’got this, love?”
Y/N nods, sighing at the loss of their nice dinner as her daughter has all eyes directed on their family - the last thing she wanted to happen. But she just focuses on shoveling the still hot foot into the plastic containers to take home.
“S’enough of that, Ivy. This isn’t how we act, hmm?” Harry hums, pulling his daughter off the floor and into his arms  - “What’s gotten into you, bug?”
Ivy sniffles, knuckling at her wet eyes,  “Home, daddy.”
“We’re taking you home, don’t you worry,” Harry chuckles, smiling softly when she tucks her head into the crook of his neck, thumb finding her lips. His large palm came to rub at her back and bounce her lightly.
When Y/N finally gets everything together, one of the waitresses - an older woman, stops by the table, “How old is your daughter?”
Y/N smiles, “Just turned two a month ago.”
The grey lady has a kind, knowing grin on her face, “What an age, huh? She looks like a little replica of your husband.”
The girl laughs, they can’t go anywhere without hearing that from someone, “Oh, believe me. They have the same attitude too,” She jokes, slinging the bag over her shoulder.
“I wish you two luck. Two is a very hard age, I have five kids of my own. Just appreciate it, even though the tantrums are a pain in the arse,” She says, patting Y/N on the shoulder before heading back to a table who was waiting on her.
---
Both the parents were frustrated, more so than they usually are with Ivy’s tantrums. They thought she’d simmer down once they’d gotten home but it had just revved up again when she realized she really wasn’t getting any ice cream.
“Shouldn’t have even promised her ice cream in the first place,” Y/N mutters with frustration as they stand near the staircase. Ivy sat on the step for two minutes in timeout, kicking her little feet against the marble.
“Right, because I knew she’d decide to have tantrums all night,” Harry shoots back, matching his wife’s tone. The screaming was echoing through the house, high-pitched and it just made you want to cover your ears from it.
Y/N rolls his eyes at him, motioning towards their daughter, “Well, this is your doing because you reminded her that she wasn’t getting it. You deal with it, I’m going to shower.”
“You’re not doing much to help anyways,” Harry hisses, their voices both low so that their daughter doesn’t hear - not like she would over the screaming match she’s having with herself. 
They rarely fought to be honest. This wasn’t even a fight - really. It was hard raising a two year old and they were learning as they went along. The couple was good at communication and working through their problems most of the time.
“I’m not doing much to help?” Y/N asks in disbelief, “Then if I’m no help at all, why don’t you put her down for bed? You don’t need me, obviously.”
Harry narrows his eyes at her, his hand gripping the railing with a hard grip, “Don’t go twistin’ my words, that’s not what I said. Now you’re just lookin’ for a fight.”
“Yeah, because on top of a fussy two year old - I want to deal with a childish husband. I’m surprised you're not on the stairs, cryin’ about ice cream too with how you’re acting,” Y/N laughs - the sound crawling under Harry’s skin with irritation at her fake carefree attitude when she’s just as annoyed as him.
“You’re being an even bigger brat than our daughter right now,” Harry tells her, trying to keep his voice at a low volume but it comes out louder than intended. He felt himself straighten up and kept direct eye contact with his wife.
Y/N’s lips form into a tight line before gritting out, “Do not raise your voice at me. We agreed that no matter how frustrated we got we wouldn’t do that in front of our daughter.”
“Then don’t act so immature, ever think of tha’?” Harry bites, hating the he hears his work voice being directed at his wife when he never wants that. 
“How am I being immature? You promised her something that she didn’t get, then reminded her that she’s not getting it. I’m allowed to be frustrated with you!” Y/N whisper-shouts, Ivy is now distracted by taking her little shoes off and watching them tumble down the stairs.
“I have so many better things I could be doing right now than stand here and fight with you over our daughter having a stupid tantrum. I’ll be in my office,” Harry replies, because when he doesn’t know what to do and refuses to admit he’s wrong - he falls back to his best excuse, work.
And he automatically regrets it when he sees a flash of hurt cross his wife’s face. Harry wants to swallow back those words and wrap his wife up into a hug. Never wanting to make her feel like his work is worth more of his time.
Deep down, they both know she knows that it’s not the truth but in the midst of the fight it doesn’t sting any less. He opens his mouth to apologize, to tell her that he’d rather put their daughter to bed together any night than be in his office.
But he can tell she’s already past the point of being pissed when she replies calmly, “I’ll put our baby to bed. Go work on whatever is more important than us, Mr. Styles.”
Harry wants to reach out and grab at her arm, tug her into his chest, and murmur in her hair how much he loves her more than anything. He said that because he knows it’s hurtful and it’s his only way to win an argument with her.
However, she’s moving up the stairs, scooping the somewhat calmed down baby into her arms and trudging up  without another look at her still brooding husband.
Harry hears Ivy shout back down the stairs, “Daddy, come on!” 
He hears his wife tell his daughter, “Daddy’s too busy with work, Ivy. S’just mummy.”
But that has Harry absolutely fuming, storming up the stairs after then, “Do not make it seem like I’m ever too busy for my daughter. That’s completely uncalled for, Y/N.”
Y/N doesn’t turn back to face him, instead keeps walking, and says with a monotone voice, “Oh, but you just said you had better things to be doing than dealing with your family. So go take care of your work, hot shot. I’ll take care of our daughter.”
“Why are you making it seem like I put my work before Ivy? I’ve literally never let that happen and you know that. You’re blowing this whole thing out of proportion because Ivy’s been having tantrums and you can’t put on your big girl pants and deal with them.”
That’s when Y/N spins around on her heel, letting Ivy down and encouraging her to go play in her room for a little before bedtime. Her face is turning red - which rarely happens unless they’re really about to get in an argument. 
“Big girl pants? Really, I’m at home dealing with her tantrums twenty-four seven. You get to come home from work and only deal with it half on the time. Do not act like you know how stressful it is to stay at home with a toddler in their terrible twos all day.”
“Do not act like it’s harder than running a multi-billion pound business,” Harry scoffs, his voice becoming lower with frustration with an argument that was going nowhere. He had a cocky lift to his voice that made her want to scream.
“Oh, because it’s so difficult half the time?  Last week, you got to go on your private jet to Paris for three days for business aka dinner and golfing while I sat at home alone!” Y/N raises her voice, angry tears forming over her lids.
“Sat in our 35 million pound house with a pool, playground, plenty of shops in town, unlimited money doesn’t sound like a hardship, love,” Harry replies, jaw clenching but his fingers itching to brush the tears away.
“You know what? It’s Sunday tomorrow. I’m going out. You watch her for the whole fucking day and see how easy it is. For now, enjoy the guest room,” Y/N spits out, storming down the hall to Ivy’s room to get her ready for bed.
“With pleasure,” He tells her, retreating back into his office and slamming the door. He wasn’t a fucking inadequate father. 
He never put work before his family. He knew it wasn’t easy being at home and as soon as he sat his arse in his leather chair - he realized what a douchebag he was being to his stressed out wife. 
Harry didn’t want to sleep in the guest room, he wanted to be spooned up next to his wife, whispering apologies for letting the stress of the week get to him. Remind her what an amazing partner and mum she is to him. How lucky he is.
The issue was - Harry had pride issues. He wasn’t one to admit defeat even when he should. He thrived on challenges so he was eager to show his wife that he’d have no problem taking on his terrible twos daughter.
He sneaks into his daughter’s room after she’s fast asleep in her crib, checking on her to make sure she’s okay before hesitantly entering their bedroom where his wife is fast asleep but a pile of clean clothes for him on the floor tells him she was serious about him sleeping in the guest room.
It was torture, not being able to be in the same bed as his wife. The love of his life. He thought about it multiple times - going in and groveling but his stubborn brain wouldn’t allow it. After such a long week, he was looking forward to sleeping in and his head hit the pillow in no time.
--
“Rise and shine,” His wife's voice wakes him up, it wasn’t with her normally cheery tone but with the same irritation as the night before. She definitely hadn’t magically forgiven him yet - dammit. Her voice is nearly drowned out by a fussy curly-haired baby.
“Wha’s wrong?” Harry grunts, sitting up to see Ivy still in her pajamas with sheet wrinkles across her face. Skin pink and warm from her nice, peaceful sleep. 
However, she decided to wake up today with a massive chip on her shoulder.
“Ivy’s upset because she can’t find her ballerina doll,” Y/N replies.
 Harry notices she is already fully dressed *** and made up for the day. “Might want to get up and help her find it. I’m heading out  like we agreed on.”
“Fine,” Harry replies with a tight lip, rubbing his eyes as he’s still half asleep. “Y’look pretty.”
“Thanks,” Y/N replies nonchalantly, leaning over to kiss Ivy on the forehead, “I’ll see you later bug, I love you.”
Ivy looks at her mother in betrayal as she leaves Harry to manage their little ball of fury. He tries to tug her in for a big, warm hug but she shrieks and screams at her father, “Ballerina!”
“Ssh, okay. We’ll go look for y’ballerina, dove. No need to yell, s’too early,” Harry grumbles, sitting up and automatically being pulled by the hand off the bed to search for this doll that could be anywhere in this thousands upon thousands of square foot home.
After extensive searches, Harry realizes that he’d left it on the roof of the car when he was tucking her into her carseat last night. The cute little plush doll is now mostly likely roadkill on the country stretch.
“Ivy, y’literally got a whole room dedicated to stuffed animals and dolls. Let’s go pick somethin’ from there, yes?” Harry tries, his daughter’s arms crossed and glaring at Harry like he had just killed her hopes and dreams.
“No! No!” The toddler absolutely wails, plopping her little diaper-clad bum on the ground before kicking her feet against the marble. She had herself worked up until her cheeks were cherry red and tears were staining her shirt.
Harry couldn’t lie - he’d only been watching her for about two hours and he was starting to feel anxiety creep up in his throat over what to do. It wasn’t that he couldn’t parent her, but it was a lot of crying and he hated seeing her upset.
“Why don’t we go eat some breakfast? Does that sound good, lovie?” Harry offers hopefully, having to contain a laugh at how much she looks like him when he’s angry. The little crease between her eyes, the green in her eyes sparkling a little darker than usual.
Her eyes peek up at her father, “Yes, Daddy.”
Harry sighs in relief, scrubbing at hand down his face, taking her into the kitchen, strapping her in the highchair before whipping up some cheesy eggs for her.
When he puts down the plate in front of her, he has to say she’s surprised when she slaps it off the tray and onto the floor, spilling everywhere. “No, want mummy’s breakfast.”
Her father looks at her with a comically bewildered expression before turning on his dad voice, “We do not throw things on the ground. Do you understand me, Ivy Elizabeth?”
Her full little lips are drawn into a tight pout as she tosses her baby fork on the ground to join the still warm eggs in a heap.  
“Mummy’s breakfast.”
The scolding goes in one ear and out the other, she doesn’t acknowledge her father but continues on her demands.
He caves after trying to no avail to decipher what ‘mummy’s breakfast’ means.
Ivy threw her eggs on the ground. She’s demanding mummy’s breakfast.
She’s hated eggs for the past two weeks now. Vanilla yogurt with diced strawberries and blueberries in her red baby bowl.
He does as she says, arranges a nice little bowl of yogurt with the fruit. He couldn’t find the red bowl so he substituted for a blue one. 
It results in the yogurt also being smacked to the ground. 
She threw that on the ground too.
Did you put it in a red bowl?
I couldn’t find it, just put it in a blue bowl
She only wants to eat breakfast out of red bowls right now
Harry groans, he didn’t know his daughter was this difficult about breakfast time. He was usually gone by the time she’d woken up for the day. Y/N usually let him sleep in a bit on the weekends until ten or so.
After digging for the specific red bowl, doing up her breakfast again - Ivy happily begins eating until it drips down her sleep clothes, rubbed all over her cheeks, and it even manages up in her tangled locks.
“S’that just so yummy, Vee?” Harry hums after she’s finished. “Looks like it’s bath time.”
He really should have guessed at this point when she shakes her head and squeaks, “No!”
“Yes, s’bathtime,” Harry says sternly, traipsing upstairs with the wriggling toddler who is doing everything in her power to fight against her father’s hold. 
“No, no, no. Ballerina,” Ivy brings it up again, making it a near impossible task for Harry to wrangle her out of her clothes and diaper. 
While he’s running the bath, she darts from the bathroom and through the hallways, right towards the grand staircase where the baby gate isn’t closed. Harry really really didn’t want to yell at his daughter but she could seriously get hurt.
“Ivy Elizabeth Styles, if you don’t get your little bum over to Daddy right now, you’re going on the step and y’not having playtime at all,” Harry orders loudly, but breathing a sigh of relief when his daughter skids in her tracks to a halt.
The little girl turns on her heels, eyes wide in fright at her dad’s raised voice - which rarely ever happened unless she really wasn’t listening. She begins to cry but not in her now typical anger-induced haze but in a legitimate sad wail.
His heart aches as his daughter toddles obediently back over to him with her little head hung low in regret, “Daddy, hold me?”
Harry can’t deny her so he scoops her up into the crook of his arm, “M’sorry for yellin’, bug. But y’need to be good for Daddy? You could have gotten really hurt and that would have made Daddy sad, okay?”
Her eyes are watery as she looks up at him, her hand curling around his neck before burying her still yogurt-sticky face into his skin, hiccuping with sad whines, “Sad Daddy.”
“Mhm, now are you going to be nice and get a bath f’me? Y’dirty, bubby,” Harry smiles down at her to brighten back up her mood and it works because her dimples pop out of her cheeks and she flashes her small blocky baby teeth.
Ivy surprisingly does well in the bathtub, allowing her father to get her all cleaned up until she accidentally opens her eyes and gets baby soap in them, it’s another round of tears that cannot be controlled.
Harry totes the sobbing toddler into a cute little Moschino onesie and brings her into their bedroom. He’s so fucking exhausted and it was barely noon. His stress level was near a hundred as he couldn’t keep her from being pissed off for more than twenty minutes at a time.
Luckily, it seems like the screaming and crying for the last how many hours had taken a toll on her because as soon as she sprawled on her stomach on Harry’s chest, she’s out like a light. The cutest small snores coming from her as she smacks her lips together while she dreams.
He gives her a few minutes to fall into a deeper sleep before tiptoeing her into her nursery and laying her very carefully into her crib. She doesn’t wake, just whimpers softly and turns on her side, away from her father.
When he’s sure she’ll be okay, he goes back into their bedroom, and well...he just breathes. He didn’t realize how high his anxiety had been up to this point and his whole morning had been nothing but trying to get his daughter calm. He didn’t even have one moment to think about himself.
It really wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate Y/N being a stay at home mum - of course, he did. He already knew how bloody amazing and strong she was as a person, he didn’t need this to prove what he already knew. It was his stubbornness to not decline a challenge and they both knew that was the case.
Y/N really didn’t think that Harry doubted her abilities. He nearly spent most of his days telling her how proud he was of her and her abilities as a partner and mum. It doesn’t mean it didn’t sting when he brought up his job compared to hers.
Harry’s in his own world of thoughts that he doesn’t notice a figure leaning against the doorframe of the bedroom, “You got everything under control, H?”
His eyes darted up to meet his wife’s, “Not really. She’s a little terror,” He jokes (kind of).
“It’s easy compared to your job, right?” Y/N asks but it’s obviously rhetorical. She drops a few shopping bags on the floor before leaning down to unstrap her high heels, kicking them off along with throwing off the blazer to the floor.
“I never said your job was easy. Y’puttin’ words in my mouth,” Harry argues, sitting up straight and moving to sit on the edge of the bed.
“No, you’re right. It’s just not as hard as your job,” Y/N huffs, unbuttoning the tight jeans and shucking them off her thighs. She didn’t have any idea what she was doing to him right now, his mouth nearly watering when her thighs jiggle a bit.
“You’re right, it’s not as hard as my job,” Harry replies, studying his wife’s face when she looks up in surprise - that he was really going to take the fight that far.
“Wow, you re-”
“It’s not as hard as my job, it’s harder,” Harry murmurs, reaching out to pull his wife to stand between his legs, her looking down at him with her hands on his shoulders. “
What I’m doin’ is nothin’ compared to your job. Y’raising our little baby, shaping her into a good person, spending every moment of y’day with her, giving up a lot of who you are for her. That’s more difficult than what I do any day.”
“Har-”
“M’sorry, lovie. Y’know I think you’re the most amazing mum and wife. You do everything for the baba and I. I shouldn’t have taken my anger from my week out on you yesterday and then said the things that I did,” Harry apologizes, his face sincere and open as he leans forward to nuzzle at his wife’s stomach.
When her hands come to run through his unruly locks, he knows he’s forgiven, “I appreciate how hard you work too. I really do, H. You’re the best husband and daddy to Ivy we could ask for. I’m sorry I took my frustration out on you as well.”
“Do you ever feel like I put work before you or Ivy?” Harry asks softly against her thin tank top, his hands come to massage at her full hips. There was a hint of insecurity in his tone that made Y/N’s heart sink a bit.
“No, I really don’t. I was just...I was just upset and I knew that would upset you. I’m sorry, baby,” Y/N murmurs softly, leaning down to kiss at the top of his head.
“Y’going to let me show you how sorry I am, how good of a wife and mum you are?” Harry drawls, his hands going to tug up the fabric of her top and humming appreciatively when she lifts her arms to let him do so.
“Yeah, remind why I married your crabby ass,” Y/N teases playfully, reaching behind herself to let her bra fall down to the crooks of her elbows before tossing it to the floor with everything else. As she’s doing that, Harry takes it upon himself to shimmy off her panties.
“Y’sayin’ you just married me ‘cause I fuck you good?” Harry grunts, standing up suddenly and pulling her up into his arms until her legs are wrapped around his waist and arms around his neck.
“Mmm, mostly. Also for your bank account was pretty good-looking too,” She lies blatantly but he still rewards her with a bruising kiss to her lips as he backs her against the wall so he can use one hand to tug down his running shorts.
“I’d still have married you, best decision I’ve ever made,” Harry says, sobering up from their playfulness. He slows down to be careful as he slides up into her warm heat, her head falling back with a thud against the wall.
“Harry,” She moans approvingly, heels of her feet digging into his backside to goad him into moving faster, “Right there.”
“So bloody in love with you. Please tell me y’know that baby, c’mon, tell me,” Harry begs, leaning down to smear kisses against her collarbone.
“I know, H. You’re so good to me, I love you,” Y/N whines and Harry knows that whine like the back of his hand, she needs more. He reaches down to rub tight, rough circles against her swollen bud until she’s tensing and coming.
“You feel so good, every single time. Don’t know how you do it, s’like you were made just for me,” Harry chokes out, stuttering and coming with his lips suckling a deep spot onto her breast as he rides it out.
After they redress and are cuddled on the bed, murmuring sweet little apologizes and affirmations of love, they interrupted by an angry squeak from the baby monitor - signaling their daughter’s woken up.
“Ballerina!”
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ravennm84 · 4 years
Text
Damning Evidence
This story was inspired by the idea of a what would happen if a civilian tried to go after Ladybug or Chat Noir’s miraculous and it got caught on video. Origially, I was going to have Alya be the one recording, but I decided someone outside of the Akuma Class needed some love. Warm-Fuzzies and please enjoy!!
Aurore Borell considered herself a dedicated weather girl and journalist. She paid attention to leads, always checked her sources, listened to witnesses after akuma battles, and always minded her safety when there was an attack. The akuma of the day was a boy from her school, she didn’t know him personally but he was going by the name Stillshot. Aurore had heard on the news that he had the ability to freeze people in place if he took your picture. 
The battle had moved close to where she lived and she hadn’t felt safe in her home, seeing as the akuma was a street level type and she lived in a lower apartment with her parents. So, she had moved to the roof of her apartment building with her phone to record everything she could see from her vantage point. 
And boy, did she see a lot.
Ladybug and Chat Noir were barely keeping clear of the beams that were shooting from the camera in Stillshot’s hands. They were even more encumbered because they were carrying a civilian around with them. Aurore recognized her as Lila Rossi, another student from her school. She didn’t know her well, but was pretty sure that the girl was a total liar. She’d once heard her say that she used to be a junior weather girl in Italy, which was admittedly impressive. But when Aurore looked her up, she couldn’t find a single news or radio station that ever listed her as an employee, intern, or even a volunteer; so she was pretty sure that it was a total lie.
Looking down, her phone in hand, she could see Stillshot shouting at the two heroes for protecting the girl. To her surprise, Ladybug and Chat Noir didn’t look thrilled by the situation either, but were still doing their best to protect her. When Ladybug called for her Lucky Charm and got a can of hairspray, Aurore was excited to see how the heroes would use it to save the day. 
Lila was quickly tossed to the side, Chat Noir used his Cataclysm to destroy the top spray button, and then Ladybug chucked the can at the akuma. Hairspray practically exploded all over him, covering his lens with a thick coat of the sticky substance and making it impossible for the camera to focus enough to take a picture. Then the yo-yo shot at the camera, breaking the lens and freeing the little purple butterfly to be caught and purified. 
Seeing the magical ladybugs swarm around the city always made Aurore smile. So much so that she almost missed Ladybug and Chat Noir jumping over her roof and landing on the building next to hers. It was a story lower than her apartment building, which gave her a good vantage point to look over at them. It was a bit surprising to see that they had brought Lila with them… and they appeared anything but happy with the girl.
“Thank you so much for saving me! I was so scared, and I have no idea why he was coming after me-”
“Will you stop lying already? There’s no one here to show off for.” Ladybug snapped at the girl, surprising both Lila and Aurore. “We know that you told that poor boy that you would get him a personal interview with Gabriel Agreste to become one of his photographers, and he believed you because you're a Gabriel model. Then when he went to the mansion, at the time you told him to, he was arrested for trespassing!”
Chat Noir put a hand on his partner’s shoulder in an attempt to calm her down, but he didn’t look any happier. “This has got to stop, Lila. We’ve heard about all the things you’ve been doing; lying about having disabilities, sexually harassing Adrien Agreste, getting Marinette Dupain-Cheng expelled from school because she called you out on your lies! Do you not care that your lies are hurting people?”
The facade that Lila had been wearing at first faded into a cruel scowl that caused a cold shiver to crawl down Aurore’s back.
“Do I look like I care? I only tell people what they want to hear. If they’re stupid enough to believe me, then that’s their own fault.”
“And what about the danger you’ve put your family in?” Ladybug asked, seeming almost desperate. “What if Hawkmoth sees that fake interview on the Ladyblog of you claiming to be my best friend? He’ll target you or your family, just to get leverage to get out miraculous!”
Lila let out a manic laugh before stepping closer to Ladybug. “Like I would care about that? If anything, I would gladly help him if it meant taking you down!”
That’s when the girl lunged at the red and black spotted hero, her hands reaching for her ears as Ladybug was knocked back onto the roof in surprise. But before she could rip the jewels from her earlobes, Chat Noir had grabbed Lila by the back of her jacket and flung the girl away from his partner. The italian landed hard on her shoulder and Aurore could see scrapes on her cheek and knees from the impact as Chat helped Ladybug to her feet and checked her ears to make sure her miraculous were still in place.
Aurore made doubly sure that she was out of sight as she kept recording, barely believing that someone would dare try to take Ladybug’s earrings while knowing what would happen to Paris and its people without Ladybug. Lila’s smile reminded her of a feral animal as she stood up. “Now I’ll make both of you regret ever challenging me! Everyone saw you carrying me away, I’ll tell everyone that you beat me up.”
“And why would we even do that?” Chat snapped at her.
“I’ll think of something,” she continued to grin. “A few tears, tear my clothes a bit more, you’ve already given me a few marks to make it more believable. By the time I’m done with the two of you, you’ll be just as infamous as Hawkmoth.”
Chat and Ladybug were alerted by their miraculous that they were down to their last minute and had no choice but to flee, glaring at the girl before jumping away. Aurore continued to record as Lila grabbed the sleeve of her jacket and ripped it at the shoulder, then slapped herself across the face to leave nail marks on her right cheek, opposite of the scrape on the left . She paced around for a moment, muttering to herself before she began crying.
“I don’t know why they did it. *sob* They carried me to the roof, I thought it was to make sure I was alright, but then they started blaming me for the akuma, said that they should have just let it have me and then they wouldn’t have to deal with me anymore. *hicup-sob-hicup* I tried to get away but Ladybug slapped-” she stopped crying suddenly, giving her head a shake “No, I can do  better than that.” Then she started crying again “I tried to get away, but Chat Noir grabbed me and threw me down, it hurt so bad. Then Ladybug slapped me and said that if she ever saw me again, she’d do worse than just scare me. Chat Noir even said he would gladly use his Cataclysm on me. Please, I’m so scared, I don’t know what to do!” 
Then Lila’s face went back to that manic look that gave Aurore the creeps before skipping over to the fire escape and began climbing down. She stopped recording as soon as the girl was out of sight and then played the recording back. She’d never been so relieved to have a good quality phone, the camera had caught everything that happened and picked up every word that was spoken.
She was nearly in a state of panic, indignation, and urgency as she raced inside and down the stairs, calling her producer at KIDZ+ news to call an emergency meeting and get some police there as well. The producer sounded skeptical at first, but when Aurore went on to say that she had proof of someone that was not akumatized trying to steal Ladybug’s earrings, that got her moving.
~oOo~
The entire upper level staff of KIDZ+ and TVi News were present when Aurore arrived. Officer Roger Raincompix had come, along with Mayor Bourgeois. They had been in a meeting when Roger received the call and the mayor insisted on coming, saying that if someone was threatening the heroes of Paris, he wanted to be in the know. She began playing her recording from the beginning, attempting to prove how recent it had been made and that she’d of had no time to doctor the footage. When it came to the footage from the roof… the reaction to her recording had been immediate and about what she had expected; shock, horror, fear, and disgust at the girl’s actions.
“Are you sure this recording is accurate?” Officer Roger asked, looking like he was about to be sick.
“I’m sure,” she said before sliding it towards him. “Check it, put it through every test you can think of to see if it’s authentic. I recorded that video from the roof of my building, it was right by where the akuma battle ended. I’ll give you my address so you can make sure it’s right.”
“I can also say, from a preliminary look, that I didn’t see any cuts, skips, or changes in color or texture which would indicate that this recording has been altered.” Nadja Chamack stated as she restarted the video and looked it over with a more critical eye. “At this point, I’d say that this is authentic, but I agree that we’ll want to run some tests to be absolutely sure before putting in on the news.”
Just then, Roger’s phone rang. He mentioned that it was the station and that he had to answer it. Stepping away, Aurore watched his back go stiff and his brows crease into a deep scowl. “I understand. Are her parents present?” Another pause and he nodded. “Put her in a private interrogation room, and don’t let her talk to anyone else. Tell her that we cannot do anything or properly take her statement unless she has a guardian present. Do what you can to keep her at the station and her mother present. I’ll be in touch very soon.”
Hanging up his phone, he turned back to the group. “Apparently, a Mlle. Lila Rossi has just come to the police station claiming that she was assaulted by Ladybug and Chat Noir. Her injuries that Officer Laurent told me, match the ones that were shown in the video.” He then looked to the President of TVi News. “How long will it take your people to inspect the recording?”
“Since it hasn’t been uploaded to any social media sites and we have the date, location, the phone that recorded the video, and the person who recorded it; not long, maybe a few hours.” She glanced at the clock, reading 11:27am before looking back at Officer Roger. “It could be ready and verified in time for the 6 o’clock news tonight.”
“Get started,” Roger nodded, “I’ll be sending a few of my people from our tech division to observe and double check the work. Once it has been verified, I want copies made for evidence.”
“I will also need a copy,” Mayor Bourgeois spoke up, finally finding his voice after the shock of the video. “If I’m not mistaken Mme. Rossi is employed by the Italian Embassy, meaning this could result in an international incident. If this turns out to be true, I will not allow this horrid girl to remain in my city or to ever set foot on French soil again.”
The TVi President nodded, writing down notes while Officer Roger called his best tech people from the station to drop whatever they were doing and come to the TVi station immediately. Then he turned to Aurore, took her statement, her address, and had her send him a copy of the recording before calling another one of his officers to meet him at that address to compare the video to the scene. As well as sending officers to the Dupain-Cheng Bakery and the Agreste Mansion to get corroborating statements. 
~oOo~
Lila was beginning to get tired, she had been fake crying for hours and really wanted to go home and take a nap. It had become even more taxing when she was forced to call her mother to the station or else the police wouldn’t be able to take her statement. At least her mother had bought her story hook, line, and sinker and was already talking about filing charges against the city of Paris for allowing a couple of vigilante teenagers to run around and hurt her daughter.
It was just after 5pm when Officer Roger, Sabrina’s dad, entered the interrogation room along with Officer Laurent. The younger officer had taken her statement not long after her mother arrived at the station but had told them that, due to the serious accusations being made, it would be best to take this up the chain of command to make sure that nothing was overlooked. That had made Lila nervous at first, but she was confident that they would believe her. After all, she was the one that had been hurt and Ladybug and Chat Noir were nowhere in sight to contradict her story.
“Hello Mme. and Mlle. Rossi, I’m Officer Roger. I want you to tell me what happened.” He said as he placed his tablet and a notebook on the table and pulled out a pen.
“Do I have to do this again? Just thinking about what they did scares me.” Lila squeezed her eyes shut as she pinched her inner thigh to draw tears. Her mother wrapped an arm around her shoulder in comfort, eating it up.
“I understand that this must be difficult, but I need to hear your statement.”
Giving a shaky nod, Lila went into her story again, making sure that her voice trembled a bit and to keep her shoulders hunched. “I don’t know why they did it. *sob* They carried me to the roof, I thought it was to make sure I was alright, but then they started blaming me for the akuma, said that they should have just let it have me and then they wouldn’t have to deal with me anymore. *hicup-sob-hicup* I tried to get away, but Chat Noir grabbed me and threw me down, he even kicked me. It hurt so bad. Then Ladybug slapped me when I was trying to get up and then grabbed my face, it felt like she was going to crush my chin. She said that if she ever saw me again, she’d do worse than just scare me. Chat Noir even said he would gladly use his Cataclysm on me. Please, I’m so scared, I don’t know what to do!” 
Officer Roger nodded as he continued to write everything down. “And you’re willing to testify to this in a court of law?”
Mme. Greta Rossi was already nodding to the affirmative. “Yes, those incompitent vigilantes are going to pay for hurting my daughter. I want to file lawsuits against them for assault and intimidation.”
Roger nodded in understanding but then gave Mme. Rossi a curious look. “I understand that you are upset, but I don’t see how Ladybug and Chat Noir could be labeled as incompitent. They have always defeated the akumas sent by Hawkmoth.”
“That’s not true, my daughter’s school was closed for months, months, because those two couldn’t beat the principal of her school after he was akumatized and damaged the school.”
He blinked at her. “Mme. Rossi, I’m not sure if you are aware of this, but our daughters are enrolled in the same school and attend the same class. There have been days when an akuma will cause the school to open a bit late or close early, but it has never been closed for months. And as for M. Damocles being akumatized, that occurred after school hours, with the majority of the battle taking place off of school grounds, and he was returned to normal before the end of the night. It did not interrupt the school at all.”
Hearing this, Mme. Rossi’s mouth dropped open before turning to look at her daughter, who had gone suspiciously quiet and was ducking down a bit in her chair.
“And as for the lawsuits that you wish to file, you should be made aware that there lawsuits being filed against your daughter by three different parties for assault, slander, intimidation, sexual harassment, and a few other charges.”
“WHAT!?”
“Yes, Madame. Some of those charges are being filed by the city of Paris, itself.”
“How dare you!” Mme. Rossi yelled as she stood so quickly that she knocked her chair backwards onto the floor. “My daughter was assaulted by those two and the city has the nerve to blame Lila? I won’t stand for this!”
Officer Roger stayed calm as he turned on his tablet and played the video he’d queued up. As Mme. Rossi watched the video, her anger ebbed away into surprise at the things the two heroes  said and how Lila didn’t deny it; then shock when Lila attacked Ladybug for her earrings only to see that she was injured because Chat Noir had protected his partner; back to anger as she watched her daughter rip her clothes, scratch her own face, and then practice the lines she had told the police, almost word for word. Officer Laurent was forced to come around the table to steady Greta before righting her chair so she could sit down. 
“For the record, Mme. Rossi, multiple people have inspected this recording, including TVi News and members of the Paris Police Department, and have come to the conclusion that it is authentic. No tampering whatsoever. Your daughter assaulted Ladybug in an attempt to steal her miraculous, which is designated as a terrorist act as she and Chat Noir are the defenders of Paris, and currently our best defense against the known terrorist, Hawkmoth.”
Lila had been silent since giving her statement again, she hadn’t expected her mother talking about the school being closed or Officer Roger destroying that lie so easily, but that was something she might have been able to recover from if given the chance. But now with that recording, actual hard evidence that proved that she’d been lying, had attacked Ladybug, and had faked her injuries and lied to the police… there was hardly a single thin straw for her to grab at, but she had to try.
Lila turned up the tears as she desperately gripped her mother’s arm. “Mom, you don’t actually believe them, do you? You know I would never do the things they’re saying I did. That video has to be a fake! Please, you have to believe me!” 
To her dismay, her mother removed her grip on her arm, stood from her chair, and began pacing the room. “Who are the other parties that are filing lawsuits against her?”
“Mom!”
“Be quiet!” Mme. Rossi snapped at her daughter, glad that her mouth snapped shut before slumping lower in her seat. “Who else has she hurt?”
“M. Agreste is planning on filing lawsuits for sexual harassment and slander. The Dupain-Chengs are filing lawsuits for slander, intimidation, and harassment. I have looked into the school and found that Mlle. Dupain-Cheng was indeed expelled after your daughter accused her of assault and theft, but later recanted her story while claiming that she suffered from a disease that makes her lie uncontrollably. Mlle. Dupain-Cheng also claims that your daughter has been bullying her by spreading lies and rumors about her to isolate her from her friends.”
“She’s lying! Marinette’s the one that’s been bullying me!”
“I SAID BE QUIET!”
Lila jumped in her chair that time before cowering, she’d never seen her mother this angry before. It was actually kind of scary, but even worse… she was sure that her mother wasn’t going to support her or back up her lies. She was on her own.
~oOo~
When the news broke an hour later, Mme. Rossi had never been more humiliated in her life. The Embassy had called her as well, saying that she would be on leave pending an investigation, meaning that she would be lucky to still have her job by the end of the week. After leaving her daughter at the police station to face the charges against her, Greta had made a beeline for the school, demanding to know why they had never contacted her about the truancy, the disabilities, or her daughter’s supposed tumble down the stairs. The teacher and principal had given her less than satisfactory answers like “Lila said you were busy and we didn’t want to disturb you” and “she promised that she would get us those doctors notes”. She was on the phone with the Board of Governors before she was off the property. Since they had also seen the news, she could easily say that they were almost as upset as she was and the two incompitent educators would be lucky if they were still employed at the end of the week. 
The visit to the Dupain-Cheng Bakery was even more enlightening. From the stories Lila had told her during the past few months, she expected Marinette to be cold, callous, and rude. But that couldn’t have been further from the truth. Sabine Cheng had invited her up to the livingroom to speak and Marinette soon joined them. She was a shy but sweet girl that offered to get her a glass of water and whatever she would like from the bakery. To be honest, she had wanted to try the pastries from the shop months ago, but had made the mistake of believing her daughter when she said that they were terrible. So she asked for a berry scone and Marinette gave a kind smile before going down stairs and coming back up with the scone, a few different macaroons, a croissant, and a chocolate chip cookie. 
When Mme. Rossi looked at her in surprise, Marinette gave her a kind smile. “You look upset, I thought having a variety of sweets might help cheer you up.”
The sincerity on the girl's face nearly brought tears to her eyes. She couldn’t believe that her daughter had been tormenting this sweet girl just because she had called her out on her lies. She asked the girl honestly, what her daughter had done to her. And although hesitant, Marinette told her everything; from the threats and lies, to acting like she had been pushed down the stairs and planting her necklace in Marinette’s locker; if it could even be called that since it didn’t lock. 
After that, Marinette asked to be excused and Greta proceeded to speak with Sabine. She admitted that she’d had no knowledge as to what Lila had been up to, that the school had never contacted her about any of the incidents, she had already filed a complaint with the Board of Governors, and recommended that they do the same. Despite Lila’s terrible treatment of Marinette, Sabine accepted the advice with gratitude but informed her that they would still be filing the lawsuits against Lila. Greta stated that she hadn’t come to change their minds, but to hear Marinette’s side of the story.
Just before she left, Marinette hurried down the stairs with a small white silk square with royal purple flowered embroidery. In one corner, the initials G.R. were stitched in elegant script and looked to be hand sewn. “It’s a handkerchief, my way of saying ‘thank you’ for hearing me out. Other than my parents and the police officers that came by this morning, you were the first person to really listen to what I had to say about Lila. Thank you.”
Not bothering to hold back tears this time, Greta accepted the gift and asked the girl for a hug, which she easily gave. Then turning to Sabine, she told her. “You are wonderful parents, I am so sorry that my daughter has put you through so much. I just hope after this, she’ll learn that actions have consequences.”
After that, Greta jumped in a cab and made her way over to the Agreste Mansion. This was a completely different experience compared to the Dupain-Chengs. She never actually spoke to Gabriel Agreste, only Adrien and Gabriel’s assistant Nathalie. Adrien explained that he discovered that Lila was lying on the first day when she claimed to be best friends with Ladybug and the descendant of the wielder of Fox Miraculous. That was when Ladybug had shown up and chastised her for lying about her. Adrien agreed due to the danger of tempting Hawkmoth. 
He went on to say how Lila claimed that she was traveling the world with her mother and was friends with all sorts of celebrities. If Mme. Rossi wanted a more complete list of her lies, to check out the Ladyblog, as she had done several interviews. Adrien also went on to talk about how during their first photoshoot together, Lila wouldn’t keep her hands off of him and it made him uncomfortable. Lila had told him that unless he wanted Marinette to suffer even more, he’d stop complaining.
When Greta mentioned that she was told that the photoshoot was a relationship announcement between the two teens, and that she’d had no idea that she was a Gabriel model, Nathalie pulled up Lila’s contract on her tablet. The one that Greta had supposedly signed to grant her underaged daughter permission to work as a model. Mme. Rossi told the assistant at a glance that it wasn’t her signature and Lila had never shown her any such paperwork. To which Nathalie informed her that Gabriel would also be adding forgery and fraud to the list of charges being filed against her daughter, Greta simply nodded in acceptance. After all, forgery and fraud weren’t nearly as bad as assault, sexual harassment, or terrorism. 
~oOo~
When her daughter was brought to trial two weeks later, Greta Rossi sat dutifully behind her daughter but refused to testify on her behalf, not that it would have helped her. Between all the charges that were filed against her by the city of Paris, the Agreste family, the Dupain-Cheng family, and the investigation into the school and Lila’s actions by the Board of Governors; her daughter had no leg to stand on. She also made the mistake of lying to the judge on the first day and committing perjury, which only added to the charges.
The trial lasted for three days due to all the evidence and testimonies brought against her and the fact that Lila was the daughter of a diplomat. However, the evidence was overwhelming and the Italian government had already revoked any immunity that Lila might have had. The jury found her guilty and the judge declared that the sentencing would lie in the domain of the Italian government. Although it was decided that Lila would not be permitted to return to France.
Mme. Rossi made it clear to the court that she was already preparing to send her daughter to a juvenile corrections center in Italy, where she would remain until her 18th birthday and the courts would decide further sentencing. 
Lila had screamed at her mother, accusing her of betraying her only daughter and that she was not her mother anymore. She had also hissed and attempted to attack Marinette for “ruining her life because she couldn’t keep her nose out of her business” and “why couldn’t you have just killed yourself”. Greta did her best to ignore the cruel words, but found herself pulling out the handkerchief that Marinette had given her. It was a small comfort, but it was more than what she deserved after Lila had hurt so many people.
Taglist:
@7-sage-7  @fantasiame  @seraphichana
@t1dwarrior-of-earth  @ghostmaster83  @izang
@ulmban  @plushbookworm  @corabeth11
@ramos123  @darkened-flame  @caffeinetheory
@iamablinkmarvelarmy  @abrx2002
@delightfulcookiesrecipespizza 
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tenthgrove · 3 years
Note
yess thank you for letting me ask you about the lore >:3c so I have to get my absolute favorites outta the way first— what kinda lore and thoughts do you have for sorbet or gelato ( <- before they get together and the earlier years of them getting together if you need a specific period ) I have to also ask are you ok if I go down the “line” and get your thoughts in other asks about the rest of the la squadra babes? Thank you sm 💖💖 I hope you’re having a wonderf day/evening
Ah! Now this is one of my absolute favourites! Apologies to anyone who has already heard me ramble about my Sorbet and Gelato backstory ad nauseam on multiple occasions, but this is really an area where I can't help myself. Besides, this is my opportunity to go more in depth where I haven't before:
(Note after writing this: It's stupidly long. I'm sorry I just can't help myself with these backstories. I couldn't decide what to leave out so I decided nothing.)
(Also please feel free to ask me more lore questions because I love doing this)
We'll begin with Sorbet, born in Naples in February 1967 if you follow the canon timeline (although by default I write in modern AU so move the dates 20 years later). His situation at birth was absolutely dire, the eldest child of an incredibly vulnerable woman and one of her clients as a sex worker. Sorbet's mother was by all means a decent woman but her severe mental illness and drug addiction made it impossible for her to be a good mother, which of course had a bad effect on Sorbet growing up. After Sorbet, she had 5 more children, all through clients, and Sorbet was saddled with much of their care.
Though he loved his siblings, Sorbet was pretty much done with this life by age 12 and was easily swept up by older boys from the local street gang, who paid him well to peddle drugs when he should have been in school. This was a very underfunded neighbourhood so nobody questioned his truancy, and within the next couple of years he had stopped going to school entirely. Shortly after this, having acquired sufficient money through his crime involvement, Sorbet left his family to stay with his new friends, moving between them on a regular basis. He also discovered his sexuality around this time and dated a few male friends, though none of these relationships got very far.
By age 16, Sorbet had earned a reputation in the street gang for skilled and passionate violence, and was selected by the ringleader to commit the group's first planned murder, in exchange of course for a lucrative reward. Sorbet accepted, succeeded, and became the group's de-facto assassin whenever needed. He continued to hoard considerable money for the remainder of his adolescence, though continued to be functionally homeless since he didn't see it necessary when sofa-surfing was suiting him fine.
Before resuming with Sorbet, let's explain the life that Gelato came from. Gelato was born in October 1967 in St. Petersburg, Russia, (Note- I previously used the city of Minsk, unaware that this is in fact, in Belarus) to an upper-middle class businessman and his Italian wife, a distant relative of French Monarchy. Gelato's relationship with his parents was rocky from the start due to the fact they would have preferred a girl after three successive sons, but any parental love they had for their youngest child broke down entirely after he was diagnosed with both Autism and ADHD at age 5, in an evaluation intending to find the cause of some behavioural issues that were really, just a response to emotional neglect.
When Gelato was 13 he, his parents, and two of his three brothers (the eldest was already an adult by this time and elected to stay behind) moved to Italy to escape some allegations of corruption in the father's business. They moved to a rural village in North-West Italy where the community was very middle-class and quite stifling for Gelato, who had enough social rules to remember in the familiar, economically-diverse city he grew up in. His behavioural issues got worse and began to include things he would later regret, such as attacking and stealing from younger children, and things he would absolutely not, like attacking and stealing from teachers. By this point the family had largely written him off as a failure, revering instead their academically successful, well-behaved older children, which absolutely contributed to the spiralling cycle of behaviour issues Gelato faced.
Then, at age 17, Gelato failed a crucial exam and was expelled from high-school. His parents kicked him out on the spot, and with no other family in Italy Gelato had very few options on what to do next. He recalled, however, one older friend having links to a street gang in Naples, and decided to see if this boy might have a route out of destitution for him. Indeed, the friend did know of a man in Naples needing assistance within the gang, but could offer no help in getting Gelato there. Seeing no other way, Gelato walked the whole journey.
Arriving in Naples, the friend's associate announced that the position Gelato was after had been taken, but taking pity on his distress, informed him of another friend who needed someone to look after an unlicensed bar that served as one of the group's main meeting points. He agreed to arrange for the small apartment above the bar to be given as payment.
Gelato accepted, but although he had now solved the problem of homelessness his life was still incredibly miserable. For one, with his pay being the apartment he had to rely on measly tips to get by, which rarely left him with enough to eat let alone anything else. Additionally, as an outsider with little understanding of the way gangs work Gelato was an easy target for abuse, and was treated like absolute shit by the bar's patrons.
By this point in time, Sorbet had just turned 18. He was, incidentally, in the same gang Gelato had joined, and a regular at the bar he worked in. For a good couple of months they took no notice of each other, until Sorbet came to be in a coincidental feud with one of the men who was violent to Gelato at the bar. When Gelato witnessed the two of them in a fight, he made the spur-of-the-moment decision to join in on Sorbet's side, knocking the patron unconscious and leaving him too afraid to visit again. For his trouble, Sorbet gave Gelato a portion of the money he looted from the fight's loser, and flirted with him lightly before going about with his evening. Unknown to Sorbet, he had just sent Gelato falling head over hills in love.
Gelato found out about Sorbet's sexuality from other patrons and, delighted, attempted to flirt with him the next time they saw each other, but his attempts came off very poorly and Sorbet actually thought he was being insulted. Angered, he dragged Gelato into the cellar to demand what was going on. Gelato, terrified, admitted having a crush, which Sorbet found to be the sweetest and most genuine thing he'd ever heard. While he couldn't promise a relationship, he did agree to show Gelato more attention in the future. But, it was only a matter of days until Sorbet found himself loving Gelato back.
This whirlwind relationship continued happily for three weeks, Sorbet greatly improving Gelato's situation through his saved money and helping him fend off the abusive patrons. Gelato, in turn, offered Sorbet a permanent place to stay in the apartment, which he accepted. Sorbet was in the process of moving his things, and they had plans to refurbish the place to make it actually habitable.
But then, everything came crashing down. One night the bar was subject to a surprise raid by the police, operating by the false assumption it was empty. Sorbet and Gelato attempted to flee but were caught, and in a panic, Gelato shot a policeman dead. Rushing to his defence Sorbet killed two more, but a fourth escaped to tell the tale. The couple knew they were screwed. Running to the headquarters of their gang they begged for protection but were informed the small group simply could not save them from a charge this serious, and gave them only a single night of shelter to plan their next move. Gelato, who remember had never committed anything more serious than minor ABH before, had an absolute breakdown over this predicament that night, and whilst comforting him, Sorbet devised a blood pact with him to stick together no matter what came.
Over the next few days, Sorbet and Gelato fled north, avoiding the police through Sorbet's skills as a criminal and Gelato's very convincing Russian tourist impression. They were almost at the French border when Sorbet awoke one night to find Gelato missing behind him. He chased his tracks to the driveway of a rural house, a tearful Gelato clutching a knife at the shut door and trembling. He informed Sorbet that he had intentionally led him to the village where his family lived, with the intention to break in and kill them as revenge for the years of abuse. Sorbet warned Gelato that this would not be good for their attempts to flee, but said he understood fully and would help him if this is truly what he wanted. Gelato agreed, and together they broke into the house and slaughtered Gelato's mother and father, additionally killing one of his brothers after he woke from the noise. The other brother, the youngest other than Gelato, was spared, as Gelato felt his role in the abuse had been comparatively more minor and he did not deserve to die. This of course, left another witness.
The massacre in the village was quickly linked to the one at the bar and Gelato was promptly identified from a comparison of DNA found at the scene to his surviving brother's. Sorbet, a known criminal, was identified soon after. Not only were the pair now known but the police figured out what their plan was and informed the French police as well, making things exponentially harder for the couple.
They made do for a while by hanging low and keeping on the move, living off money stolen from the parents' house. Eventually however, they needed more, and began making deals with local crime organisations to carry out assassinations in exchange for money or temporary shelter. While Sorbet was already a pro at this, Gelato found himself a fast learner, and soon realised he shared Sorbet's adoration for the act of killing. He felt as though he was finally coming to meet his true self.
Though the assassination deals were lucrative, they did not help the couple keep a low profile and the attacks from police were relentless. Several times, they barely escaped capture. All this was not good on their mental states, and after two years, Sorbet knew it needed to end. He and Gelato returned to Naples in the hope their old gang might reconsider protecting them, but they were met with a surprise as their old gang had been completely overtaken by Passione. Even still, the new mobsters had heard a lot about Sorbet and Gelato's exploits and agreed to get them an audience with a local Capo, Pericolo, who was impressed by the men's skills and moved by the sense of honour suggested by their love for each other. He agreed to initiate them into the gang.
Soon after this, Sorbet and Gelato recieved stands which, although not very powerful, assisted them greatly in the art of assassination. Soon, they were natural choices for Passione whenever a hit needed carrying out in the Naples area. At some point a few years in, they befriended a man named Prosciutto who had been recently forced into Passione due to his heritage. Prosciutto was also funnelled into assassination jobs and, with less of a reputation for impulsivity than Sorbet and Gelato, was the one given the order to form a new assassination squad when the need arose, around 1993 if we're following canon.
(Note, I hc La Squadra was created by Passione in response to a real life government crackdown on the Italian mafia around 1992-93, in response to an incredibly scandalous series of assassinations. In such a climate, it would make sense for Passione to want to consolidate an elite squad of its best hitmen, do avoid future problems.)
Due to personal commitments Prosciutto did not want to be the captain, so attempted to give this responsibility to Sorbet, a request the boss promptly denied. Prosciutto was, however, allowed to add Sorbet and Gelato to the team's ranks, cementing the three of them as the first members of the team.
Prosciutto would, soon enough, find another person to give the title of captain to, but that's a story for another time.
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volturiwolf · 3 years
Text
The Volturi Princess - A Felix Volturi x fem!Reader Story (part 3)
No of Words: about 5313
Mentions of: Abandonment, Abortion, Anxiety, Blood, Bruises, Coma/Comatosed State, Death Emotional Abuse, Emotional and Physical Pain, Gaslighting, Greece/Greek Language - with translation, Heartbreak, Italian Language - with translation, Manipulation, Murder, Pain, Panic Attacks, Pregnancy, Suffering, Suicide/Suicidal Thoughts, Swear Language, Throwing Up/Puking, Witches/Wizards/Witchcraft
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part 1 part 2
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"The Volturi Princess " Tag List (reply if you want to be tagged or removed):
@felixvolturisprincess @singerj2002 @mrtony-stank1 @ikissedthescarsonherskin @alecvolturiswifeforever @hshehdyhd
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Felix’s POV:
We have been traveling for over a year now, Demetri tracking Carlisle and us following behind him. Demetri located him across the Atlantic, so we swam across the ocean to reach him. Almost a year and a half after leaving Volterra, we tracked Carlisle while he was working as a doctor somewhere in the northern United States. He was surprised to see us, but we kept our austere facade to maintain our sovereignty towards him. He welcomed us gladly in his small house.
It was a two-story building, and it smelled of old wood and mold, but I guess that was the best he could do for now. The living conditions around here did not seem to be ideal. Apart from the Volturi and the Egyptian coven, no other vampire lived comfortably, in castles, mansions, or even big houses; most vampires were nomads, traveling around and living by hunting whenever they could. So, Carlisle actually living in a house, even if it looked like this, was way better than living the nomad life.
“Jane, Alec, Demetri, Felix. To what do I owe this pleasure? Can I offer you anything?” Carlisle had always been one of the kindest of our kind, too compassionate for a vampire.
“No, Carlisle, thank you, we’re good. We are on a mission, and we have a few questions for you.” Jane took it up to herself to start the conversation.
“Please, sit down so we can talk.” Carlisle offered us to sit around the table that was in the middle of the ground floor. We each took a seat at the table. “So, may I ask what it is all about? I don’t think I have personally acted in a way to upset the Volturi.”
“No, indirectly, you haven’t.” Jane continued. “We wanted to ask you a few questions regarding (Y/N). We think that you may have heard by now that she has left Volterra.”
“Yes, word came around. I met a few nomads from Europe some time ago, and they told me that (Y/N) left Volterra, probably permanently.”
I tried to suppress a sob that was fighting to leave my throat. Carlisle knew that (Y/N) left, everyone knew that (Y/N) left. They didn’t know she left her mate behind, and they shall never find out that she was my mate. I didn’t even want to think about the possibility of (Y/N) being in danger if anyone found out that we were mates. I had too many targets on my back to risk anything happening to her.
It was my turn to intervene. “Have you seen her? Has she ever come around here?”
Carlisle turned to face me. “I did. Once. She stayed with me for about a year; that was about 6 or 7 years ago. She tracked me through her memories. She has become quite skilled at that.” Demetri and I looked at each other confused. (Y/N) could track as skillfully as Demetri now?
Carlisle continued. “Anyway, she seemed concerned. She told me she had been traveling for quite some time, but she felt like she was missing a piece of herself, of her past. For a few months, she wanted to learn more about me, my job, how I was doing with the whole “animal blood” diet, simple curiosity really. She had been training herself to abstain from human blood, so it was easier for her to go hunt with me. She told me..”
Carlisle turned to look at me now. “She told me about your bond, Felix.” So, she has felt our bond, too! “She told me that she was scared for you, for your safety within the Volturi. She was worried about all of you, but particularly you, Felix. Being her mate means you are basically a target for anyone who wishes to harm (Y/N). She told me she ran away to protect you. As long as no one knew of your bond, you were safe. The traveling and meeting the world was just an extra benefit for her and her gift.”
“Her gift?!” We all exclaimed in unison. (Y/N) never claimed a “gift”, so how could this be possible? Did she lie? Did she even know about her gift?
“Before you say anything, she didn’t even know what her gift was. It is way more complicated than you think. I guess she’d appreciate it if I gave you an idea about it.” Carlisle paused for a few moments. If my heart was beating, I swear it would have stopped by now.
“You know how, for example, Jane, you can induce mental pain, or you, Alec, can restrict anyone’s senses?” The Twins nodded at Carlisle. “Well, (Y/N) can do both, and so much more.” We were kind of shocked. No one has ever had a gift similar to the Twins; that’s why they were in the Volturi. Because they were unique.
“(Y/N)’s gift is copying others’ gifts. That’s why she could also track me; she had copied Demetri’s gift.” Carlisle pointed at Demetri, who looked utterly shocked now.
I would lie if I said I didn’t feel the same way or scared even. I was not scared because of (Y/N); I was scared for (Y/N). This newly-found discovery meant she would be way more important to Aro than we ever thought. He wouldn’t just let her go - not that this was his intention before, but now, she would be even more precious to him and his cause; she would now be the perfect weapon for him to use against other vampires. I had to find her and warn her.
“Do you know where she is now?” My voice came out more stern than I intended it to be.
Carlisle nodded his head slightly. “I may know where she is now. Before she left, she was trying to find out as much as she could about her parents. I assume that was the “missing piece” she was referring to? Anyway, she may be after her parents. I mean they do know her nature better than any of us does. Don’t forget that (Y/N) is half-witch. No one could ever teach her how to be one; only her father could be the one to do so. So, if I stand corrected, she is looking for them. And there’s only one place that (Y/N) has ever linked to her parents.”
“Greece.” Demetri stepped in. Demetri was the only one who could understand (Y/N)’s connection with Greece; it was their birthplace, their origin, their true home.
“Exactly. If you find her parents, you’ll most likely find her. Even if she’s not with them, it will be easier to track her if you have her parents’ assistance.”
We nodded and we stood up. “Thank you for your help, Carlisle. You were most helpful.” Jane spoke for all of us.
“It was my pleasure.” Carlisle led us to the door, but before we left, Jane turned to him one last time. “We think we can trust you that this conversation stays between us.”
“Of course, Jane. Have a safe trip and take care of yourselves.”
“You too.” Alec smiled at Carlisle.
What Carlisle said at the end had me worried for (Y/N). “I hope you find her soon. Her parents never had the best reputation around.” What kind of people was (Y/N)’s family anyway?
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Tracking (Y/N) proved to be way more complicated and debilitating than we thought it would be. We assumed that the closer we were to Greece, the easier it would be for Demetri to pick up her tenor. We were wrong; we were going around blindly, not a clue about (Y/N)’s whereabouts. Even when we finally set our feet on Greek ground, we still didn’t know where to start looking for her. Nobody had a clue where she could be; we didn’t even know her birthplace.
Demetri took it upon him to start his research in a place he knew well enough: Athens. Athens was the capital of Greece’s civilization for many centuries, but, at the time of Demetri’s birth, during the Byzantine times, Constantinople emerged as the center of the Eastern Byzantine Empire, while Rome remained the center of the Western Byzantine Empire.
Athens was not regarded as highly as it used to, during Pericles’ “Golden Century”, as the 5th century BC was known. It still was an important and historical city, but it has lost its title as the “capital” eons ago. The city was taken advantage of by both “allies” and Ottomans and seemed to have lost part of its previous glory. Still, it was beautiful; I may have been quite “old” myself, but I could still admire the history around me.
It reminded of (Y/N)’s stories and books; knowing Ancient Greek history was one of the first things she took an interest in. The fact that she was able to travel to Athens, with or without Aro, quite a few times also developed her fascination regarding the Ancient Greek arts, philosophy, and overall way of living. Of course, it wasn’t easy being a woman then, or ever really, but she was more financially privileged than the average Athenian - vampire wealth had always been an actual thing, and Aro always prided himself to be a “collector” of wealth (and talented vampires for the matter).
We arrived in Greece at a transitional stage; the country has been experiencing a war against the Ottomans for a few years now, and it was evident around the city of Athens. There were many casualties during the war, many damages around the streets, the houses, and there seemed to be a climate of misery and decline.
Yet, the country had recently elected a prime minister, who declared Nafplio, a city in Peloponnese, as Greece’s capital. That was our next stop, as we couldn’t find anything in particular that could indicate (Y/N) being in Athens. Apart from the poor living conditions, the country was experiencing a plague pandemic wave, which killed even more people, but authorities worked hard on containing the cases, and it seemed to have been working.
Still, without a single clue about (Y/N)’s location, the only thing we could do is go around searching for any possible information. We could only travel at night, and hide during the day; Greece, just like Italy, had always been blessed with sunny days, for the majority of a calendar year.
It wasn’t ideal with us being vampires, but Volterra was an ideal strategic location for the Volturi to travel across the vampire and human world, rule, and impose their laws whenever it was needed. Just like always, we now also had to be secretive about our existence.
I thought about how lucky (Y/N) was in that situation; being a non-fully vampire, she didn’t “glow” in the sun like us. She had a more healthy-skin-like glow, a healthy and subtle glow that made me even more attracted to her - if that was even possible. That basically meant that she could technically go anywhere and everywhere; the weather did not affect her, the sun did not affect her.
I started getting frustrated and disappointed. It wasn’t only (Y/N) I had in my mind; apparently, during the years of the Greek Revolution, many vampires, Greek or non-Greek, started secretly fighting to claim territories for themselves.
We knew that it wasn’t part of our duty, but it wouldn’t hurt if we could actually claim Greek land for the Volturi. Having both Italy and Greece under our control could mean more power, more resources, more blood. It only seemed natural; the three Volturi kings were born in Greece, all three of their wives were born in Greece, Demetri and Chelsea were born in Greece. (Y/N) was born in Greece.
Greece could easily become an extension of our territory - Italy was already ours in its entirety - and it would only be the start. It would be easier to control and deal with any possible riots from other covens - the Egyptians and the Romanians in particular. We didn’t fear either of them, but the Romanians have been holding resentment towards the Volturi for a couple thousand years, so anything could be expected from their side at any moment.
I shared my thoughts with the Twins and Demetri. They all agreed that it was a plausible plan; it would show others that the Volturi are still as powerful as they have ever been, and should be feared. Besides, we knew that just the four of us would be able to subjugate any vampire that crossed our paths. With the Twins’ powers, Demetri’s tracking skills, and my strength, it would be impossible for others to resist or challenge us.
We started interrogating any vampire we found wandering or hunting at night; none of them worthy enough to fight us or even gifted enough to join the Volturi. It was quite easy to find the leaders of these “newly-made” covens, or alliances, as they seemed. Because none of them inspired loyalty to each other; none of them was a coven in the sense the Volturi were. They were more like vampires who came together to fight for territory control; I doubt if they would even manage to stay together for one more day. They did not only lack loyalty towards their "leaders", but also discipline, principles, and basic rules of survival and solidarity towards the other members.
It was quite easy to take over any “coven” in Southern Greece, including the island of Crete. We started moving north, taking over the territories of Thessaly and Epirus, something which the Greek humans did not manage to acquire from the Ottomans yet. We were to take over Macedonia and Thrace next, but we were met with an unexpected obstacle.
Every vampire we would interrogate regarding these two territories would say the same thing: none of them knew who owned them, but whoever tried to claim the territories never returned back, dead or alive. The mystery that surrounded the person or people behind the leadership of these areas made their skin crawl; they all refused to “help” us any further, no matter how much Jane, Alec, and I tried, which made me kind of worried, or more like curious, but I didn’t want to show any weakness or let them question my effectiveness.
Every one of them was just a “normal” vampire; we were better, stronger, gifted, and we have proved that we can bring results every single time. No other vampire has ever dared go against us; we wouldn’t allow them to question us now either.
We continued traveling up north, determined to face whoever it was behind the territories there. I didn’t pay attention to the slight pain in my guts as we were traveling through the country, but it was becoming more and more intense as we continued going north.
We didn’t know how we would find the vampires behind this “operation”, so our plan would be to act in any way possible to provoke them into coming out of their “hiding spot”. For a few days, we were rummaging any small village we could find, killing the villagers and draining them of their blood - not a very “Volturi tactic" may I say. We were supposed to hide our existence, not challenge our luck by killing so many people; yet, this was the only way we thought that could possibly lurk the vampires out of their “comfort zone”.
As we were traveling through Macedonia, we came across a rather developed town, compared to the villages we have seen before. The city was surrounded by tall stone walls. There were a few rivers on its western side, forests and mountains on its northeastern side, and swamps and marshes on its southern side. We couldn’t hunt freely here, at least not during daylight; there was no way we would go unnoticed if we started hunting anywhere in the area. We decided to run through the forests, see if there was a place we could stay for a while; if there was a human or more we could feed off of; if there was a sign of the vampires or (Y/N).
During the last few weeks, I’ve been thinking that our mission has been more about expanding our power and influence, and not as much about locating (Y/N). Actually, it felt more like locating (Y/N) was more of an afterthought now. We lost the purpose of our mission; the reason we came together all along.
It wasn’t as if we would actually be directly benefiting by the territories we claimed; we were still working on behalf of the Volturi. We didn’t ask the kings to claim Greek territories; yet, we did, because we felt obliged to consider their own good once again, this time at the expense of finding (Y/N). Once again, we became the victims of the influence they had on us, and we played their game.
“Why are we even doing this?” I yelled frustratedly. My friends turned to look at me.
“What do you mean, Felix?” Jane seemed slightly annoyed. “We’ve come here to claim the territories, to show these savages who the boss is here.”
“No, Jane, they are not savages, we didn’t come here to claim territories, and we don’t have to show them “who is the boss”. They already know that the Volturi rule the vampire world. No. No. We came here to search for (Y/N). Not to “claim territories”. Not to “show them”. We came here for (Y/N). We..We lost our purpose. We lost the true meaning of our mission. We just started claiming the land for the Volturi, for Aro. We..We forgot about her.”
My eyes were stinking with venom. I felt weak, I felt as if I betrayed her. I promised to myself that I would bring her back home, that I would protect her. It’s been so long and we still haven’t found her. We just kept wasting time on things that shouldn’t matter to us. We should not care about expanding our influence, our territory, our power. We should care about bringing the Princess back.
Jane lowered her head apologetically. “I’m sorry, Felix. I didn’t know you felt this way. I have to admit it though; we did lose track of time and we forgot about the actual purpose of this mission. We once again forgot that (Y/N) has always been way more important than any power in the world. I’m sorry. We all are. I promised you we’ll start searching for her right away, okay?”
I nodded affirmatively. We had to find (Y/N) as soon as possible. We were not only running out of time but also out of hope that (Y/N) was in Greece or anywhere else, that she was alive. We got so distracted by our conversation that we didn’t notice we were being watched until we all started screaming in pain. I fell on my knees, the pain on the back of my head unbearable, and that’s when I blacked out.
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I didn’t know how much time passed being unconscious. It felt like a new sensation to me; being a bit over 2000 years old, I haven’t lost my senses once - except for the times Alec liked to play games on me. I didn’t feel like myself; it didn’t feel right. I didn’t like being restricted of my senses, especially now, especially here, in an unknown place. My mind was blurry and I couldn’t see anything distinct around me; I couldn’t see almost anything. I tried to move my hands around but I couldn’t as if the tightest rope in the world was holding me in place.
“No need to fight, sweetheart.” I heard a woman’s voice. “There is no way to escape.”
“Who are you? Why am I here? Where are the others?”
“Felix? Is that you?” I heard Demetri’s voice on my right.
“Demetri? Is that you? Where are Jane and Alec?”
“I am here.” I heard Alec’s voice on my left.
“Me too." Jane replied.
“Alexandre, please, I cannot start with this again.”
Suddenly, I could see again. I was still physically restricted, but my eyes could see them crystal clear and my mind was in order once again. The woman in front of me was very imposing, though of average size. Her long, curly hair framed her face beautifully and her piercing red eyes were piercing through my soul. The man standing next to her was only a few centimeters taller; he had short, straight hair, and his eyes were looking between the four of us sternly. Who were they even? Why were we even here? Why us? As if she read my mind, a woman spoke to me.
“Oh, deary. We’re not going to tell you who we are. But you are going to tell us what you, Volturi guards, are doing in our territory!”
“How do you know who we are?” I exclaimed. Of course, everyone knew the Volturi as the authority of the vampire world, but not all vampires around here have ever met us specifically, or any other member of the coven for the matter.
“Your crest, dear. I have known that crest for far too long. Way before you were even born. I see that dear Aro never changed it. He does like to remain in his same, old ways after all. Never changing, never moving forward, still imposing his “laws”, I’m assuming?” The woman seemed to know way far about the Volturi and Aro. She became a danger for our coven, from the moment she and the man abducted us. She should have never done that; they both would be punished for their actions.
“Dear, I won’t get punished..for anything. You, on the other hand, are in a pretty difficult situation. You see, my husband and I are not going to let you get away until you tell us why you are here.”
“Pain.” I heard Jane saying. The woman turned to look at her but she didn’t even flinch. I heard Jane screaming in return.
“Oh, sweetheart. Your powers won’t work on either of us. You see, I am a shield, so don’t even try to hurt us. On the contrary, WE can hurt you just as much, if not more.” The woman smiled evilly, while Jane was writhing in pain.
“Please, stop hurting my sister.” Alec pleaded, unable to use his gift against the couple.
“So, you are the “Terror Twins”. Alec and Jane, I see.” The woman knew their nickname? “Oh, yes, I do, dear.” She turned to look at me. “You see, I was once part of the Volturi. Technically, still am. However, I left, way before any of you joined the coven. To put it into perspective, I was there when Didyme lived but I left way before she was killed. Dear Marcus has never been the same ever since. I still feel somewhat of a connection to the coven, though I am able to make my own decisions because I managed to escape them. We were actually passing by Volterra a few times. I wonder how you never noticed us, though our powers would practically make us mentally invisible from Demetri, over here, or any other vampire, really.”
She knew Demetri, too?
“Felix, dear, I know all of you and about you. You see, my dear daughter has a special connection with all of you, a kind of friendship neither my husband, nor I quite understand. It wasn’t easy for her to keep her memories secret; though she is an amazing shield - which makes me so proud, she is kind of “vulnerable” when she is sleeping. And my husband’s magic is quite strong and easy to penetrate her mind and memories when she does eventually sleep.”
Her daughter? Could that be…?
“WHERE IS SHE?” The question slipped out of my mouth without even thinking about it first.
My anger could not be controlled right now. I was pushing myself to my limits to break my fetters, to no avail. Were that woman and that man (Y/N)’s parents? I started making some connections here and there; they looked similar to (Y/N), though so different at the same time. Their immortality, their red eyes, their confidence, and their aggression did not remind me of (Y/N). She had a pure face, a face of kindness, she was not like them.
“You think so? Alexandre, can you please call (Y/N), agapi mou?” The woman turned to the man, and the man started moving his fingers in front of him, creating some sort of a wave around him.
Within a few seconds, the door burst open and the first thing I saw was a red silky fabric flowing around the air. When the fabric settled down slowly, I saw her for the first time after so long. She has changed..a lot. Her (Y/E/C) eyes were replaced by piercing red ones, with a slight hint of (Y/E/C) around the pupils. Her eyes apathetic and stern; her facial features more defined; her hair reached a little below her shoulders, straight and shiny, like her father’s. She still looked as beautiful as ever.
She stared at us, focusing her eyes mostly on me. Her heartbeat sounded steady and strong. I was relieved; she was still human, they had not turned her fully vampire yet. She took a few steps farther into the house, her feet bare but surprisingly clean, no dirt, no grass had stained them. She stood right beside the woman, who I now knew was her mother and Aro’s daughter.
“What are they doing here?” Her voice came out stern, yet it was music to my ears.
I missed her voice so much. I missed her so much. Our mate bond, weakened by the distance and time spent apart, slowly started forming again. I felt it; I felt my existence becoming meaningful again. I felt my breath hitching in my throat, her presence provoking so many different feelings and emotions inside me. However, she still seemed cold and distant, and I couldn’t quite read her face. Did she not feel the same? Has she forgotten me? Does she hate me now?
I saw her gaze getting softer, even compassionate? She approached me and bent down slightly, placing her left hand carefully on my right cheek. She stared deeply into my eyes and I closed mine, leaning on her touch. It was the purest moment I have experienced in my 2000 years of life.
I opened my eyes and stared at her. I saw golden flakes scattered in between the red in her eyes. Once again, she took my breath away. It felt as if I fell in love with her all over again, a unique feeling of refreshment. We were lost in our own little world. She smiled slightly at me, the first time she did after such a long time.
“Enough! (Y/N) get away from him, now!” (Y/N) was forcefully removed away from me by her mother. She was looking at me pleadingly and then turned to look at her parents with such hatred. I’ve never seen her like this ever again, not even with Aro.
“YOU. WILL. NOT. TELL. ME. WHAT. TO. DO!” If looks could kill, (Y/N)’s parents would be dead by now. Her hands started lighting up, bright purple flames rising up. She was trying to intimidate her parents, but neither of them looked concerned in the slightest. She turned to us and with a dance-like move of her hand, we were finally freed of our fetters.
It was her father’s turn to speak. “(Y/N), let’s take this outside.” With a jerking motion of his hand, we all found ourselves, outside, in their house’s front yard.
“They’ve come to take you back to Volterra, back to Aro! Don’t you see it? They don’t care about you! They just want to please their master.” The words came bitter out of her mouth. She had a clear resentment towards the Volturi. “I will not let them take you away from me! Not again!”
“I know, mother, I’ve read their minds, too. Yet, I don’t see why YOU seem to think that you can make the decisions for me. I am my own self. I can make decisions for myself. And I get to choose what I do with my life.” (Y/N)’s voice was certain, powerful, in control. “They are not bad people, mother. They just have to follow orders, just like you followed Aro’s orders, just like I followed yours. That’s not going to happen anymore. I am taking control of my life!”
The sweet, little girl I got to see my whole life was becoming a strong, powerful woman right in front of my eyes. She was radiating power; she was taking control of her life. She was..my everything. She was becoming independent, her own self. To say I was proud of her, would be an understatement. She has always been special, but this newly-found power has clearly given her way more confidence and trust in herself.
She would finally be able to rule the Volturi. If she decided to come back to Volterra, she could definitely take over the coven. No one would be able to resist her or her gift. My thoughts were quickly interrupted when her dad started shouting in Greek.
Demetri, who was standing right next to me, saw the look of total confusion in my eyes. “I’ll translate for you.” I nodded at him. “So, her father says: Enough with this nonsense, (Y/N). Your place is here, with us. You owe us; we taught you what you needed to know about your magic. We taught you how to use it, how to develop it. You didn’t know enough to defend yourself back then.”
“Now, (Y/N) says: I don’t owe you anything. Yes, you did teach me how to use my magic, which I inherited from you. But, you gave me away to Aro. You couldn’t defend me or yourselves against him. You just offered me to him, as if I was a present for his birthday or something.”
“Now, her mother says: You, at least, owe it to yourself to get away from these tyrants. You know they don’t deserve you, so why are you still defending him? It’s that man, isn’t it? Now, (Y/N) says: That man has a name. Now, her mom says: You know, his name means “lucky”, "happy" in Greek. Yet, he hasn’t been that lucky or happy at all, has he? We read his mind, (Y/N), he’s not worthy of you.”
“Now, (Y/N) says: Guess what? I have also read his mind, and I have also read the two of you, as well. Don’t you think that it is only you who can read my mind while I’m sleeping! I’ve been reading your minds any chance I get! I know how you’ve been planning to use me, as a weapon against the Volturi! Guess again! I’m not going to let you manipulate me anymore! And that man deserves EVERYTHING in this world!”
“ENOUGH!” Her father shouted and threw a dark red glowing sphere, hitting (Y/N) and knocking her on the ground. My heart dropped at the sight, but she quickly stood up and gathered so much energy in her own hands, attacking her father with a powerful hit.
He got wounded, his face slightly cracked from his forehead to his jaw, yet he didn’t give up. He was about to attack her once again when his wife stopped him. She was looking at me and nodded to her husband. I heard (Y/N) screaming, but I didn’t make out what she was saying, as I started screaming myself and felt myself getting tossed in the air. Then, everything went black once again.
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sisterspooky1013 · 3 years
Text
As Ethan Sees It
Author:SisterSpooky1013
Rating: Mature
Words: 3698
Read it on AO3 Here
Tagging @today-in-fic
The first thing I’d noticed about her was how self-assured she was, particularly in contrast to her diminutive stature. I’d been grabbing lunch at a local deli between classes and some high school kids were picking on a third boy who may have been a classmate. Everyone in line was just ignoring it, looking away, when this tiny redhead steps out of line and walks up to the tallest, bulkiest guy in the group and tells him to fuck off, in so many words. She barely reached his shoulder and was probably 100lbs soaking wet, but she had no problem standing up for the little guy. After I picked up my order, I noticed her sitting alone at a table near the window and asked if I could join her. She was hesitant, but agreed and listened politely while I told her how impressed I was by her bravado with those kids. That’s when I noticed the second thing about her; her incredible smile. It was like the first burst of sunlight over the horizon in the morning, blinding in its beauty. I introduced myself and learned that her name was Dana, and she had just moved to DC to accept a job with the FBI. We talked for so long I missed my class, but I didn’t care. I was fascinated by her. Aside from being strikingly beautiful with rich auburn hair and porcelain skin, her blue eyes some intoxicating shade of blue I had never seen before, she was also wickedly smart. She seemed to know about everything, any topic that came up she could speak to, and I learned more during that 90 minute conversation than I probably would have if I’d made it to class. She was a doctor, and a scientist, and even the way her voice sounded was enchanting to me, the S’s softly sibilant as they poured from her pouty pink lips. She had realized the time and stood suddenly to leave, and I was so flustered by our impromptu date ending so abruptly that I stupidly forgot to get her phone number. The sinking feeling in my gut when I realized this fact, right about the time her cab disappeared into a sea of other cabs, still ranks as one of the worst moments of my life.
I thought about her every single day for two weeks. I talked about her every single day for two weeks, until my roommates begged me to either figure out a way to get in touch with her, or shut the hell up. All I knew about her was her first name, that she had recently graduated from Stanford, and that she works at the FBI. First I tried calling the FBI and asking for Dana, but they had more than one Dana who worked there and were unwilling to let me try them one by one. Next I contacted Stanford and was able to have a list of the last two classes of graduates faxed to me. Thankfully, there was only one Dana on that list; Dana Scully. I called back to FBI headquarters and asked for Dana Scully, and the next thing I knew she was on the line, her sing-song voice saying “This is Dana Scully.” My mouth went dry, I forgot how to speak, how to breathe.
“Uh, um, hi, hello.”
“…Who is this?” Her tone was the one I’d heard her use with the high school bullies
“Uh, this is Ethan? From the deli, a couple weeks ago?”
“Ethan from the deli? The guy who’s getting his masters in journalism?”
“Yep, that’s the one.”
“Oh! Hi! How…how did you get this number?”
“Well, I hope this isn’t too weird but I forgot to ask for your number and I remembered you said you worked at the FBI, so I kind of tracked you down.”
“Oh. That’s kind of sweet.”
I let out huge breath of relief.
“I’d really like to see you again, if you’re interested. It’s alright if not, I just couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t at least ask.”
She was quiet for a moment but he had a feeling she was smiling.
“I’d love to, Ethan. Do you have something to write with? I’ll give you my number.”
**********************************
The first real date we had, I took her to a fancy Italian place that my buddies said was sufficiently romantic. She let me pick her up at her apartment in Georgetown and when she answered the door, I nearly passed out. She had on a strapless blue cocktail dress and tall black heels, her hair down and soft around her face. Her lips were red and plump and I wanted to kiss her right then, but I knew it was too soon. I held doors for her and watched closely for her reaction, unsure if she was the kind of woman who found chivalry insulting, but she seemed to appreciate it. She was so petite and delicate, like a beautiful bird, but also had this incredible air of confidence that made her so captivating. I was careful not to outright stare at her, so I didn’t make her uncomfortable. She told me more about herself as we ate, what she had studied in school and the things she was doing now at the FBI academy, working in forensics. She asked me about my school and my plans for after graduation, and she really listened when I talked, asking thoughtful questions and wanting to learn more about journalism and broadcasting, so eager to know as much as possible about everything she could. I told some stupid joke, and she laughed, and I think that’s when I fell in love with her. That laugh worked its way into my bones, vibrated in my blood stream and sent a shiver down my spine. I had to imagine that the only reason she was single was that she was so new to the area, because a woman like this was never single for long. I didn’t want the night to end, so I asked her out to drinks afterward and to my delighted surprise she suggested that we have them back at her place. I didn’t want to assume anything, so I didn’t make a move, just talked with her more on her sofa, learned about her family and her childhood as an army brat, her love of reading and bubble baths, her fondness for children and animals. When she leaned in and kissed me, I thought that I may be hallucinating. Maybe I was having an intensely long, lucid dream. How did someone like Dana Scully cross my path of all the places on earth she might have been, and how did I have the nerve to approach her, and how was she interested in me, and how was it possible that right then she had her tongue in my mouth on her sofa?
We didn’t have sex that first night, but it wasn’t too long before we did. And it wasn’t too long after that that we decided to be exclusive, and 6 months later that I told her that I loved her. Two weeks after that, she said it back, and for two years, we were happy. It’s typically the case that when you’re newly in love with someone you have that divine infatuation that makes you see everything about them as perfect, but over time it wears off and the things that were once cute become annoying. That never happened with Dana. I was obsessed with her, everything she did was the most incredible thing a human could accomplish or be. Aside from the megawatt smile and musical laugh, she had this sweet little beauty mark on her lip that I loved to kiss. She was witty and skilled at debate, and we’d spend evenings arguing over something like the moon landing conspiracy before fucking like animals over the back of the couch. And the sex. Oh my god the sex. She was an absolute vixen in the way she played, teased, and ultimately delivered on every promise she made, and she would smile in this self-satisfied way when she came, looking me right in the eye like she’d tricked me out of my last dollar. She could be dominant, or dismissive, sometimes one then the other in the same night. She could be anything and everything, and she was.
I loved to hear her talk about her work and new assignments she was getting, and I was so proud of her and her goals and dreams. I wanted to be right beside her as she climbed the ranks at the bureau, and knew that she would be anything she set her mind to. She was equally supportive of me as I graduated and then worked my way up at a local broadcasting company with dreams of being a news anchor. She made me feel important and worthy, showed interest in the things that I cared about and was so loyal to me that she cussed out one of my friends for making jokes at my expense. We never moved in together technically (her choice) but we slept together at one or the other’s apartment every night, rented a movie every Friday, had dinner with her parents every Sunday. Her sister, who she was close to, seemed to like me okay, and her friend Ellen confided in me that she thought I should propose soon, that Dana was ready for that step. I picked out a ring, a slender gold band with a princess cut solitaire, only half a karat because I knew she didn’t like to be flashy, and hid it in my sock drawer. Our anniversary was coming up on March 23 and I decided to do it then, which was a little ways away, but I wanted it to be perfect.
For her birthday, I took her out to dinner and she had exciting news to share. She’d been offered an assignment with an obscure unit at the FBI, requested specifically by Section Chief Blevins for her background as a scientist. I didn’t fully understand what the unit did or why they’d want Dana for it, but it was something about unsolved mysteries, by the sound of it. She was so happy and felt like this was a great sign, her big break, the fact that Blevins even knew she existed and wanted her on this team was an indication of the reputation she was building for herself there. I bought a bottle of champagne, told her how proud I was and that I couldn’t wait to hear more about it. She let me know there would be travel, it was a field agent role, and that she’d be on the road sometimes. As much as I didn’t look forward to being away from her, I couldn’t help but share her excitement at this new step in her career. That night we had the most incredible birthday/promotion sex you could imagine. I made her come three times before she finally tapped out and told me how much she loved me, and how excited she was for the rest of our lives together, how much she appreciated that I understood that her career was important, and that I supported her. If we would have been at my place, I would have grabbed the ring and proposed to her right then, but we were at hers. So I just kissed her and told her that I was the luckiest man on earth because I had the opportunity to be her partner in life.
The first day of her new assignment, she was nervous. She’d heard some stories about the agent she was going to be working with, her partner, a guy named Mulder. He sounded like somewhat of an oddball, and a ladies man to boot. I made a joke about him staying away from my woman and she rolled her eyes, had me help her choose between the plaid suit or the maroon one, kissed me goodbye and told me that she loved me and I didn’t need to worry about this or any other male agent, or male person for that matter, stealing her away. That afternoon at the station I got a message from her saying that she had to fly out to Oregon for a case they were investigating, which caught me by surprise. She had said she’d be on the road, but I didn’t expect it to happen that fast. I heard from her only once in the three days she was gone, and when she came back, she was different.
It’s hard to explain in what way she changed. She was distracted, spacey, staring into nothing when we watched TV in the evening, not really listening to what I was saying when I told her about my day. She told me a little bit about the work she was doing, but she was suddenly guarded and defensive about what she did all day, most of her sentences starting with “Mulder says...” The phone would ring at odd times, she worked late or was out of town almost constantly. I felt her slipping away. I did all I could to make things easy for her when she was home. I did all the cleaning, all her laundry. I cooked her dinner each night, though half the time she would say that she had already eaten with Mulder. She didn’t seem as interested in kissing or sex, but she would let me go down on her and I did, every night, trying to hold on to her attention and her affection with my tongue on her clit. I tried to talk to her, to ask her what was wrong, if I should be doing anything differently, and she’d say “no, of course not. Everything’s fine, I’m just tired.”
Then it was our anniversary, and I made a reservation at the same place we’d gone to that very first time. I picked up flowers for her, dahlias which I knew she loved. I went by her apartment at the agreed upon time, but she didn’t answer the door. I used my key to enter and it was quiet and cold, no sign she’d been there anytime recently. I called her office at work and Mulder answered, said she was up at Quantico performing an autopsy and could he take a message. I just hung up the phone. I went to bed at her place, and when she finally crawled in at 3am she was startled to find me there. The way she looked at me made me feel like she’d forgotten I existed, and I didn’t even bother to remind her that it was our anniversary. I decided to start fresh the next morning, with a new plan. Maybe I was being too demanding, expecting too much. Maybe this Mulder was difficult to work with and she didn’t want to bother me with horror stories. I would just have to be the most supportive, accommodating, wonderful boyfriend possible, and we could come through this together. When I woke up, she was still snoring softly beside me. I slipped my head under the covers and pushed her legs open gently, sliding her nightgown up over her hips. She stirred and moaned as I pressed my lips to her clit, kissing her there before beginning to lap at her labia, two fingers sliding inside just how she liked it. She responded readily, flexing her hips and pushing her hands into my hair, and I flipped the blankets off my head so I could see her face. I loved the way she liked to watch me, to hold my eye as she went over the edge, so intensely intimate. To my disappointment, her eyes were closed, head back against the pillow. When she came, she didn’t look at me, didn’t say anything. I crawled back up to lie beside her and when her eyes met mine they were so full of sadness it sent me into a panic.
“Dana, what’s wrong?” I implored, seeing tears welling under her blue irises.
She shook her head and scooted up so that she was sitting with her back against the headboard.
“Ethan-“ her voice caught under a sob that she quickly swallowed down.
My stomach dropped. No, this can not be happening.
“Ethan” she began again. “I care about you so much.” Tears were falling now, trailing down her alabaster cheeks and dripping off of her angular chin. “I just don’t think I can give you what you need right now.”
My mind was racing, I looked around the room like there might be something, or someone, who could help me.
“I think it might be best if we took a break for a bit. Took some space from each other.”
I sat up on my knees and grabbed her arm, suddenly regretful that I had chosen to sleep naked.
“Dana, what are you talking about? We don’t need space. I don’t need space from you!”
She closed her eyes. “Ethan, it’s not fair to you. I can’t be available to you right now. My new assignment, I’m just so busy-“
“No, it’s okay, Dana. I know you work more now but I don’t mind, I’ll always be here when you come home. I support you, I support your work, you know that.”
Pulling her arm from my grasp, she stood and went to her dresser. Pulled on panties and then jeans before stripping off her nightgown and putting on a bra and sweater. “Ethan. Please don’t make this harder than it needs to be. It’s just not a good time for me, right now.”
“Is it that Mulder guy? Is he making moves on you?” I hated how desperate my voice sounded.
“No, Ethan. This has nothing to do with Mulder, he’s been nothing but professional. This is about me, and what I need right now. What I’m capable of. And I’m just not in a good place for a relationship, I’m sorry. I need some time.”
She was standing near her bedroom door, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed. She was ready to walk out.
“How much time? How much time do you need?”
She looked at the floor and whispered “I don’t know.”
I slid off the bed and went to her, dropped to my knees on the floor, wrapping my arms around her hips as I pressed the side of my head into her belly.
“Please don’t do this. We can work through it. I love you, I love you so much. I’ll do whatever you need, just tell me.” The humiliation of begging on my knees while nude makes my skin crawl to this day.
She put her hand on my head, petting my hair as she often did. I felt hot tears drip from her eyes and fall against my scalp. “What I need is for you to let me go” she finally said, and she sounded very sad but also very resolute.
“I’m going to go to my mothers for the day, and I’d like you to pack up the things you have here. You can leave your key on the table. I’ll call you soon, to see how you’re doing, okay?”
“Dana, no, I won’t let you go. Please let me try to make this better.” I clung to her like a child, physically keeping her from leaving me. She crouched down and kneeled in front of me, taking my face in her hands. She kissed me softly on the lips, once.
“You have been a wonderful boyfriend, Ethan. You have loved me so well. I don’t want you to think that this is your fault, okay? You are the best. I just can’t be with someone right now. I know you’ll be okay.”
She stood and walked out of her apartment, pausing once at the door to look back at me, naked and destroyed on the floor in her bedroom doorway, and then she was gone.
She didn’t call me, not in a day or a week or a month. She deleted me from her life like a file she no longer needed. I didn’t know how to explain to my friends what had happened, because I didn’t really know myself. I thought about her every day, ate at restaurants around her work and apartment hoping to catch sight of her, so we could chance a meeting and maybe she’d be willing to talk. When I finally did see her, it was at a sandwich shop a few blocks from the Hoover building. She walked in looking like…well an FBI agent. Now in a black, tailored skirt suit that fit her perfectly, her hair cut shorter and more styled, her heels tall and her posture confident. A man was with her, and my stomach turned at his hand on her back, the familiar way they stood close as they waited in line. He was remarkably tall with dark features, handsome in a kind of mysterious way. I wondered if that was Mulder, assumed that it was. They sat down and I watched her face, the intensity in her eyes and the curl at her lip, recognized the way her features danced as she talked about something she found interesting, the rapturous way she listened while her male counterpart spoke. I remembered when she used to look at me that way. She must have felt my eyes on her because she looked at me suddenly, registering surprise and then sadness, offering me a tiny wave as the man turned to see who she was looking at. I gathered the rest of my sandwich and chucked it in the trash can as I stalked out, suddenly having lost my appetite. I wanted to hate her, to be angry at her betrayal, her abandonment. I wanted to hate him, for taking her from me. All I could muster was the same hallow acceptance that I had my chance, and somehow let it slip away. I just hope that he appreciates her smile as much as I do.
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unmaskedagain · 4 years
Text
Yeah, I’m done
I got in this prompt in November, if I remember right. I didn’t really look at it because… What the hell is a fall out fic?!!! I thought maybe it meant Lila exposed but I’ve done quite a few of those. However, I don’t really think I ever focused on it too much; usually, I stray to all the wonderful things Marinette does without them. This came from someone anonymous so It's not like I can just ask the sender… SO I decided to wing it.
Marinette could honestly say she had waited a very long time for Lila to be exposed as the liar she was. Over a year in fact. A very long fourteen months.
           If Marinette was honest with herself, she would also add that she stopped waiting for any reason other than the fact she hated lies about… seven months, three days, and seven hours ago.
           Why did she remember that so well?
           That was the moment Marinette stopped trying to save everyone. Don’t get her wrong; she was still Ladybug. Ladybug was still a kickass hero. She did her job better than ever before.
           However, Marinette decided to take a step back, breathe, and let the chips fall where they may.
           Her fellow students, her once friends, had been trapped in the spider web of Lila’s tales; awestruck and utterly hypnotized into believing everything the Italian girl had to say. Even the ones about a girl most had known their entire lives.
A bully, they called her.
A selfish jerk.
A jealous bitch.
           Her! Marinette! The girl who had done so much for them; had gone to bat for them more times than she could count, and obviously more times than they could remember.
           Slowly, one by one, her friendship with each and every member of the class withered and died until there was nothing left but ashes.
           It was then Marinette realized some things weren’t worth saving.
           Marinette had no trouble forgiving them; it was who she was. But she promised herself she wouldn’t forget.
           And if they could treat her like this, after everything, that she didn’t want to be friends with them anyway. Not now, not ever.
           When Marinette stood up and announced her resignation from being Class President at the end of the prior school year, the entire class cheered. Like they did when Chloe was forced out of office. (…That only broke Marinette’s heart a little.)
           The bluenette changed her number the day after school officially let out for summer. It wouldn’t matter, she knew. She doubted they’d even realize. Most hadn’t so much as texted her in months. Unless they needed something; a favor.
           But Marinette was done with favors. Done with free commissions that no one ever seemed to realize cost her an arm and a leg; the fabric was expensive, art supplies for banners were expensive, designing was time-consuming. She was done with any free babysitting. She was done to bring in free sweets on big test days or when the class had a hard week prior. Marinette was done fundraising for class trips and events Bustier would exclude her from at the behest of the rest of the class for her “poor attitude” and “negative energy”. She was done with planning birthdays, making special presents, when no one in class even bothered to wish her a happy birthday.
           And most of all, Marinette Dupain-Cheng was done fighting for people who didn’t fight for her. She had tried for months and months to get them to listen to her and what did she get in return? Deemed a green-eyed Liar! As far as she was concerned Lila and Chloe could have at it; do whatever they wanted.
           She didn’t have a single friend in class.
           They weren’t her concern anymore.
           It took about a month into the new school years for the class to really understand that. Lila had originally voted in as class president, and had feigned a few tears while thanking the class for the honor but had declined due to being too busy. So Alya was voted in next.
           Alya handled the first two birthdays, Ivan’s and Alix’s, really well; she decorated their desks, gave them a birthday card. However, the usual tray of baked goods that were usually brought in for every birthday never showed.
           When Alya inquired if Bustier had forgotten to order the cupcakes, the teacher had looked confused.
           Marinette tried not to smirk as she sat in the back of the class, pretending to look over her sketchbook.
“I’ve never ordered any before,” Bustier said. “Marinette always did. She was class president. It was her job.”
           The two looked back at Marinette; expectant looks on their faces.
           The Asian girl snorted. It was never the class president’s job. Chloe never did it in all the years she ruled the class with an iron fist. Marinette had done it because she had been their friend. And she didn’t order them. She bought the ingredients and made them herself.
“It’s the job for the new class president,” Marinette corrected and watched Alya’s face fall. Normally, at that point, Alya would try to ask Marinette for a favor; for Marinette to do it instead.
           However, the glasses-wearing girl had taken to ignoring her ex-bestie as much as she could.
“Fine!” Alya huffed. “I’ll do it myself.”
           The next thing the class realized had changed was when Bustier announced, “Maybe it’s time we start planning for any class field trips?”
           Alya had nodded earnestly, and started making outrageous plans for all the trips the class could take; one to Paris Disney world, another to England, New York, L.A, and so many other very costly ideas.
           Ideas, when Marinette was Class president, she would’ve quickly shot down as being impractical, expensive, dangerous, impossible, and any whatever other reason she could think of so the class wouldn’t get their hopes up.
           Alya did no such thing.
           Marinette just shook her head, and let her ex-friend dig her own grave.
           The announcement happened in the morning. Alya had stayed behind when the bell rang for lunch to talk to the teacher and had blatantly glared at Marinette as she said so
           And Marinette knew exactly what Alya was planning on talking to Bustier about.
           Sure enough, at the end of the school day, Bustier had made another announcement; in front of the entire class.
           Marinette really hated how unprofessional the teacher was.
           Bustier made it clear that, once again, Marinette was excluded from the class trips that year until her behavior changed. This caused half the class, specifically Lila and Alya, to send her smug looks.
           Marinette had nodded, “I understand, Miss Bustier. I can’t say it won’t be a relief not to have to help fundraiser.” The smug looks didn’t entirely disappear but a few faces looked confused instead as if they didn’t realize that meant Marinette wouldn’t help. “I always hated all the planning it took,” And doing all the work, she didn’t add. “Fundraiser after fundraiser. Coming up with the budget, making reservations, clearing it with the school board, clearing it with the parents, getting chaperones, actually raising the money.” She gave a fake sad sigh. “Oh well. Hope you guys have a blast though.”
           Then it came time to plan for the first fundraiser. A bake sale.
           Marinette had nearly fallen out of her chair laughing when Alya brought it up. Because the bluenette had always hated doing bake sales as she was the only one who ever brought in any baked goods. It was like the entire class thought that just because Marinette lived in a bakery it would be easy for her to get all the food needed.
           It wasn’t. She made most of it herself and bought the rest with her own money.
“So who’s going to bring what?” Alya asked. She looked straight at Marinette and seemed to wat for the bluenette to speak. Only for Marinette to raise an eyebrow as if daring her to ask. Alya looked surprised for a moment before she seemed to remember that Marinette wasn’t going to help out. “We’ll make a list.”
           No one said a word.
           Marinette leaned back in her seat, with a smirk on her face. Alya had said they needed to raise at least $2,000 for the bakery. A highly unrealistic goal. Marinette had only ever raised $423 from a bake sale before.
“I can bring in cookies,” Alya offered once the silence and confused looks continued. “Anyone else? Nino?” She asked her boyfriend.
           Nino’s eyes went wide, “Uh, I usually just play the music.” Alya glared at him. “But my mom has a killer blondie recipe. I can ask her to make some.”
           Alya nodded, “Sweet. Rose?” And then, one by one, Alya called on each member of the class to see what she could force them to bring.
Even though all but one person in the class promised to bring something; it still wasn’t enough. It wasn’t a very big class. Theirs were the smallest in the entire school which was why new kids always got stuffed with them. In addition, flyers and a banner still needed to be made to promote the fundraiser.
It was clear as she looked at the list that Alya knew they were in trouble. And again, her eyes went to Marinette, a little bit more pleading now. Marinette just shook her head and started sketching a new dress.
She was done with always coming to the rescue.
Marinette didn’t go the bake sale. However, she heard about how much of a disaster it was from Aurore, her new friend from Mendeleiev’s class.
Half the food was burnt and overpriced. The flyers were terrible. And then it rained halfway through.
Suffice to say, the fundraiser was a bust.
And so were the fundraisers that came after it. Never once did the class meet their goals; though admittedly, their goals were never realistic, to begin with.
Marinette knew for certain by December that there was no way the class was taking any of the “oh so amazing trips, and it’s such a pity you can’t go, Marinette” they had planned. Or any good trip for that matter.
It took months for the school board to approve big trips; weeks to approve small ones. Paperwork needed to be filed with detailed plans ready to present. If a big trip got approved, and then for some reason, they couldn’t go and decided to do a smaller trip instead, new Paperwork would need to be filled out. The new trip would need to be approved. It wasn’t like Bustier could take the class somewhere without permission. And if it wasn’t done in time, there would be no trip.
In late October, Marinette posted a flyer on the class board, and around the school, promoting her new website. It got curious glances but only Adrien asked about it.
Adrien, who was neither enemy nor friend, but a neutral party who refused to get involved. His version of the high road, Marinette guessed.
“What’s that?” He asked. “You starting your own business?”
           Marinette nodded, “MDC designs. I designed a bunch of clothes over the summer and got a few friends to model them; Aurore, Marc, Luka,” Juleka looked up at the mention of her brother “Kagami, Ondine, Claude Mireille; and a bunch of girls from the fashion club. People can choose the premade designs already promoted on the site and I can send it to them in their size. Or they can contact me for a custom piece; dresses, scarfs, nearly anything really. That’s a lot more expensive, though. Not at much as it would’ve been, say last year, but now that I’ve stopped doing free commissions, I could lower the price.” She said the last sentence louder than polite but she wanted the entire class to hear.
           No one in class blinked twice at her statement. However, Marinette knew they would.
Adrien nodded happily, “Cool, that’s kind of what my dad did in the late 90s when he was starting out. Computers were like barely a thing he said.”
           Marinette couldn’t picture a time without computers or her smartphone and couldn’t imagine a life without the internet. She shivered at the thought. “Aurore’s become really well known as an Instagram model. I gave her a few outfits in exchange for her promoting my stuff. She even got a few of her model friends to promote my clothes as well. It’s going really well. If the trend continues; I was thinking of doing a live, online, runway show. I’ve already been scouting places.”
           That got some envious looks. Whether it was because Marinette was doing so well or because others would be used as her model, she didn’t know. She didn’t care.
           Marinette was done caring about every stupid little thing.
           The blond just nodded with enthusiasm, “You’re a great designer. I’m sure you’ll be a hit in no time.
“Hopefully, rather than later,” Marinette smiled. “It’ll go even better when Nadja promotes me on her show. I just have to babysit Manon for free for five random days of Nadja’s request that she could request … any time.” It had been a steep price but Marinette had been willing to pay. “She’ll even promote my runway show if I ever have it.”
           The first time someone, Mylene, realized just what Marinette had meant when the drama club inquired to her about getting more costumes for the school play and she had no one to turn to. She took one look at commission prices for local tailors for custom pieces and nearly threw up. Marinette’s website, while still expensive, was a much better deal. Still, Mylene couldn’t afford it.
           Nino needed a gift for his mom and remembered how much she loved the scarf he got her last year. He thought it was a good idea to get her something similar. But then he remembered Marinette had made the scarf. And Alya would kill him if he bought anything from Marinette’s website. So Nino settled on something small.
           When the school dance came, for the first time the majority of the girls in class would have to buy their own dresses. They came from a store, were cheaply made, and were not nearly as amazing as the ones they previously wore.
           All in all, it wasn’t the greatest year for Bustier’s class. Midterms had taken a heavy toll. It tense and everyone was clearly frustrated. So were Marinette’s friends from other classes. So during Lunch, Marinette surprised her table with delicious baked goods as a pick me up. The ones she normally would’ve brought just for her class.
           Marinette pretended not to notice the hopeful looks on her classmates faces when she walked by with the iconic light blue Dupain-Cheng bakery box. And ignored the crestfallen looks on their faces when she headed them out to just her friends.
In April, it was clear that the trip to New York had fallen through as they didn’t have enough money. Alya had to rush to get something small approved before the end of the year; a trip to the local amusement park. Marinette didn’t laugh when Alya announced it to the class who looked really bummed all their hard work didn’t pay off. She didn’t even blink twice. It had nothing to do with her after all.
           In May, the truth finally came out. It happened on a Thursday.
           Lila had forgotten her lunch bag at home. Her mother brought it. Lila’s eyes went wide at seeing her mother and she did everything she could to get her out of the class as soon as possible.
           Rose asked Mrs. Rossi, “How the meeting in Achu went?”
           To which Lila’s mother replied, “A what now? I’ve never been to Achu.”
           Marinette had merely leaned back in her seat to watch the fireworks.
           And it was beautiful.
           It was an even bet as to who had the bigger meltdown.
           Mrs. Rossi: when she learned just how much her daughter had been lying; to her, to the school, to her classmates, and basically everyone she met since moving to Paris. Apparently, it wasn’t the first time and it caused a lot of trouble in the past which was why they had to move to France. Mrs. Rossi was quick to refute any rumors about celebrity meetings, traveling around the world, and ever meeting any royalty. And that Lila had no medical issues whatsoever and didn’t participate in any charity organization.
           Lila: she had nearly been Akumatized when her mother started to reveal the truth. Luckily, Ladybug had been nearby to catch the little butterfly. (Marinette had just left to the bathroom, not that anyone had really noticed). The hero refuted ever knowing Lila outside of stopping her akuma forms.
           And Finally Alya: who had burst into an angry rant and furious tears at being lied to. It was another near akumatization. Alya had to be physically restrained from attacking Lila once the realization hit her about her blog being discredited for lies.
           A lot of the class yelled and made accusations but no reaction was nearly as extreme as the other three. Lila had taken advantage of her classmates for almost two years. They carried her books, remade plans so she could be included, took notes for her, threw parties to celebrate her newest accomplishments.
           However, Marinette noted, not one of them mention the friendship they had destroyed because of their belief in Lila. She shouldn’t have been surprised.
           The bluenette had long since realized she wasn’t ever as important to her ex-friends she once thought.
           The entire class was still angry the next day. Lila didn’t show so vented to each other.
           Marinette still sat in the back of the class, content to come up with designs to present to a nice lady who wanted a killer dress to wear to her sister’s wedding, and let the class deal with its own drama.
           Unfortunately, some people didn’t get a clue.
“Marinette,” Adrien said brightly. Marinette fought not to look up at the sky and ask god why. “What do you think about the Lila situation?”
“I don’t really care,” The bluenette said. “I was done with the whole thing a while ago.”
           Suddenly everyone remembered Marinette was there. Marinette who swore Lila was lying for months. Marinette who they had ostracized and exiled. Marinette who they had ignored. Marinette who had once been their friend.
           Rose gasped, her hand over mouth, tears welled up in her eyes, “Marinette! I’m so sorry,” She cried.
“I can’t believe we were so mean to you,” Juleka said.
“Dudette, I had no clue what I was thinking,” Nino said.
           More apologies came, each one more heartfelt than the last. Alya had been last. She looked like she had been stabbed from the pain her face. Eventually, the glasses-wearing girl cried, “I’m so sorry girl! I’ve been the worst bestie ever. I should’ve believed you over Lie-La.”
           Marinette looked at her classmates, shrugged, and said, “Okay.” Then she went back to looking working.
           That was it. However, clearly by the silence that came from the class. They had been expected a bigger reaction. Tears of joy and relief. Happiness to have her friends back. Anything but they got nothing.
           Alya frowned, “Didn’t you hear us? We’re sorry. We should’ve trusted you, we know that now. We’ll make it up to you, we promise.”
           Marinette sighed but shook her head. “No. Thank you. I don’t need you to make it up to me,” She said. “I don’t want you to make it up to me. Just keep doing what you’ve been doing.”
“But, but…” Rose looked around for help. “We’re friends again.”
“Yeah,” Adrien said brightly. “It can go back to the way it was.”
           At that, Marinette put down her pencil. She gave the class a hard look. “Let me make this clear because I have no intention of repeating myself: we are not friends. None of you,” She gave pointed looks to her ex-friends, the longest to Adrien and Alya. “Are my friends. You were mean. You called me names. You spread nasty lies about me because Lila told them to you. You excluded me from all class activities; despite the fact that last year I did the majority of the fundraising, the planning, and the work. You hurt me. Things will not go back to the way they were. I don’t trust you. We are not friends. And we will never be friends again. No amount of apologies will change that.”
           Alya went to protest, “Girl, we’re-”
           Marinette interrupted her, “Just move on. I have.” Then put her headphones in until Bustier managed to get control back over the class. As far as Marinette was concerned there wasn’t anything left they could say.
           …
           That didn’t stop them from trying.
           No one in the class seemed to believe that Marinette, their everyday Ladybug, wouldn’t forgive them. Lila had been withdrawn from school and no one knew what happened to her. And without Lila’s presence, the class was sure Marinette would have no problem moving on from the drama the Italian girl had caused.
           They never even considered the fact that Marinette had never been angry at Lila. She hadn’t been happy at her lies. But she had been furious that her friends had fallen for them so easily, particularly the ones about the bluenette.
“Hey,” Alya said brightly stopping in front of Marinette’s desk the following Monday morning. She thought Marinette just needed the weekend to calm down. “All the girls are planning a slumber party at Rose’s on Friday, you in?”
“No,” Marinette said firmly. “I’m busy,” She offered politely.
           And she would be “busy” every time they wanted her to do something.
           Too busy to go to all the parties she had been previously excluded from. Her ex-friends still hadn’t realized Marinette had never wanted to go after she realized they just weren’t worth it anymore.
           Too busy hanging out after school. Or go to Adrien’s photoshoot. (Alya just wouldn’t understand that Marinette was so done with her crush on Adrien.)
           Too busy to help with the school play.
           Too busy to watch Kitty Section preform.
           Too busy to go play video games.
           Every day, every moment they could; her ex-friends were trying to pressure her into being their friend again, hanging out with them again, forgiving them. They just wouldn’t take no for answer.
           Honestly, Marinette was just done with their antics.
           Particularly the incessant need to make sure Marinette was on the “big” class trip; as if they believed if Marinette went it would make up for everything.
           Marinette made it clear she really, truly was way too busy to go some random beach trip. She really did have plans and she couldn’t back out of them. They were too important.
           But her ex-friends kept bringing it up, with Alya leading the charge, over and over again. They didn’t care what Marinette wanted at all. And once more, Marinette was reminded why she was glad they weren’t her friends anymore.
Eventually, once again, they got the teacher involved. Bustier had so “nicely” announced in front of the class, that Marinette was more than welcome to go on the class trip with them and that they looked forward to coming along.
And as far as Marinette was concerned that was the final straw.
“I’m good,” Marinette said. “Seeing as my behavior hasn’t changed. I think its best I don’t go; right Miss Bustier? That was what you said? And obviously to you thought it was a good reason.” She reminded the teacher. Bustier flushed a pink color at being called out. “It wasn’t like you, an adult woman, caved into peer pressure from your students and a childish need to avoid confrontational situations.”
           Silence from the class. No one had expected Marinette to react as she did. In their minds, she was still their “everyday ladybug”; the nicest and sweetest girl in school. The idea made Marinette scoff. Where was that mindset when Lila got ahold of them?
           The bluenette glared at the teacher, the woman who should’ve never let the Lila issue get as far as it did; never let Marinette be ostracized and bullied. “I mean, you called me out in front of the entire class to tell me I couldn’t go. Not the first or last time, by the way, you did something so… crass. Not the most sensitive way either.”
“Well, I think-” Bustier had tried to say but was cut off.
           Marinette wasn’t going to let her have a word in, “I’m so glad I started to record lesson last year, for you know notes? You know after that expulsion incident? I worried about what I’d miss. It made it so easy for my parents to understand why I was excluded from class events because they could watch it. I mean I have months and months of video evidence they just… loved. They got to see exactly what this class is like on an everyday basis, and exactly how you run it. So did our lawyer, who seemed rather interested in my school. It turns out that physically harming, via tripping or pushing them into walls as you walked by just hard enough for it to hurt. Or destroying private property; like a phone, spilling water on a laptop, or sketchbooks filled with work for commissions. Or verbally bullying someone. Or sending horrible texts daily, all of which I saved and printed out, can be considered harassment. Which is illegal and the perpetrators involved could face criminal charges as well as be sued for the destruction of said property and for emotional ramifications I suffered. But a teacher would never let anything like that happen in front of them so it wouldn’t be on any of the videos I have, right?”
           She let the words fill the room. Bustier had paled dramatically and looked ready to faint. The rest of the students who had taken to bullying Marinette instead of ignoring her looked sick. Marinette had no sympathy for any of them. They got themselves into this mess.
           Marinette shook her head, “I asked them to chill for now because you’re the teacher. You did what you did for a reason. It’s not like you’d shirk your responsibilities on the class representative. Or force some poor student to be a model example and mediator for all class issues. Or god forbid, cater to the bullies and blame the victim; allow one of your students to be verbally and physically harassed daily. The videos I have surely would never show anything like that; let alone prove it in a court of law… No matter what my lawyer says. But again, you don’t have to tell me why.” Marinette already knew why after all. And she was so done with Bustier. “You had to have had a good reason. Otherwise, I would have to take this to the school board. And a judge in a court of law. And see if you can explain it to them. Maybe I’ll even send them to my mom’s best friend Nadja so she can put them on her show and the world can see too. And we can find out what everyone thinks of you and your teaching methods.”
           The threat was clear to all.
           Bustier better back off. Or Marinette would make her back off.
           The teacher only had to slip once, and she was done for.
“Enjoy the trip,” The bluenette smiled cheerfully, in a way that reminded them eerily how she used to smile at them when Marinette was still their friend; still their “everyday Ladybug”. But instead of bringing warmth as it used to, all they felt was shivers. “It might our last one altogether. After all, who knows where we’ll all be in September. May be separated into different classes. Or different schools. With the way Damocles expels students with no procedure whatsoever, you never know. Or have a new teacher. We can only guess. I think its best if we just… leave things alone. With the way things are, if you push, you might get pushed back… right off a cliff.”
Marinette was done playing games.
           When the class left for their “big” trip, Marinette had finally let out a sigh of relief. Next, she was so transferring to Mendeleiev’s class.
           She was done with Bustier’s class.
           While the students of Bustier’s class were playing at the beach and plotting their next move to get Marinette to forgive them, Marinette was fulfilling one of her biggest dreams.
           The bluenette did have for her online runway show. She had spent weeks and weeks promoting it on her website. Aurore, some of the fashion club, and other rising Instagram models walked the runway in Marinette’s new line. Jagged hosted. It hadn’t been Marinette’s idea, but Jagged complained to Penny when Marinette turned him down the first time and Penny talked to Marinette.  
Chloe made a deal to her mother to watch the runaway show to review in exchange for Chloe being one of the models. Again, Marinette expressed concerns but couldn’t turn down the chance of Style Queen seeing her clothes.
Marc helped designed the runway; to give it an artistic, futuristic, edgy look. Claude brought in a smoke machine and his laser machine that the used for his short films to make everything really pop.
Clara Nightingale let Marinette use her music as the runway music. The superstar performed a song during the show and promoted it on her social media feed in exchange for a few custom pieces and Marinette getting Ladybug to do some selfies with her. (Tikki had to be bribed with an entire tray of chocolate chip cookies, and to be left alone with the TV in Marinette’s room for the night; something about finally catching up on Game of Thrones.) Marinette was quick to agree. Though Jagged had been in a huff until Marinette agreed to let him close out the show.
           The world took notice, albeit mostly because of Jagged and Clara. But Audrey, the Style Queen herself, had raved about how cutting edge it was. She claimed that an underground, exclusive, fashion show was the new big thing in fashion. The clothes were marvelous too. All in all, MDC’s runway was exciting, sophisticated, and fresh, just like her new line.
           Not long after Style Queen’s review posted, the orders had come flying in on her website. Everyone who was anyone seemed to NEED to be seen wearing the MDC brand.
           Marinette had smiled ear to ear for the rest of the weekend. She looked forward to what the future would bring.
           It was a new day.
           Which was great because…
           Marinette was so done with yesterday.
4K notes · View notes
greeksorceress · 2 years
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Could I have an outsiders ship pls? Physically: female, dark brown curly hair, 5’4, thin but athletic body type, blue fox-like eyes, Caucasian, sharp cheekbones and jawline, come from an Italian and German family. Personality: INTJ, determined, health Queen, loves fashion, and shopping, feisty, reserved, “intimidating”, has a rbf, a bit uptight, good grades, sarcastic and witty, responsible, dresses in dark/neutral colors but in a chic way lol, would be a soc but not hang out w them. Ty<3
oh gosh baby! i'm sorry it took me this long to reply. it's been three days since i tested positive for covid and my body and mind have been turning themselves on and off irregularly, so it's taking me a lot to check my messages... but i'm here now! <3
this was so lovely! you sound like a very lovely, interesting person and honestly i can think of more than one of the boys having a crush on you! i think two-bit would feel physically attracted to you, and that soda would love how you dress and how healthy you are... and i think that darry would probably appreciate your kind of personality and how smart you are, oh dear architect, but i honestly think that, overall, your perfect ship would actually be one ponyboy curtis!
pony runs for track as a school activity and you are a health queen with an athletic body, so i feel like he would be interested in practicing sports together so you can both help each other to keep healthy and have fun while doing so. you would run through parks as if they were track fields and will go jogging all over the neighborhood, pushing and pulling at each jokingly, and sending shy, playful smiles to each other during it all.
i also think that he would be so interested in your heritage. he would ask you so many questions about your relatives and he would want to know if you can speak german or italian, and if you say you do, he would be so up for you to teach him how to say a few things here or there. his personal goal would include being able to talk to your parents using the language of your ancestors.
your personality is one of the things that attracts him the most, and he would find you mysterious and daring and smart and hard-working, which are his favorite characteristics in the world, so he would be completely smitten with you from day one. he would not be intimidated by the rbf, he would even find it amusing and would joke about it.
fashion is a kind of art, he would gladly go with you shopping and try to understand what is exactly what you prefer about fashion so he can compare notes with himself later. this would lead to an exchange of opinions, ad he would always ask you if you have liked this movie or read that other book. debates about the things you like are always on the menu and you both love that.
sarcasm and wittiness is probably the first thing that ponyboy noticed about you and he loved it. he feels it translates into how smart you are.
your dates would be epic; pony would never have enough with the typical ones in the park or in a café, and he would always try to do surprising things like picnics in the middle of the forest surrounded by little lights and books or taking you to a cliff so you can jump together into the lake.
he would always pick you up from whenever you are, specially if you're in school. if he's not in school that day or has already finished, he will still jump over the fence and go see you.
would completely, absolutely, feel embarrassed in front of his brothers 'cause they would have no mercy on him and would tease him about you and about how much of a goner he is, but it's all so endearing that you just watch and smile sweetly at him while he whines at his brothers.
sharing food is a yes, specially if it's something he knows you like a lot.
will tell you how pretty you like every single day.
doesn't mind hanging round with your friends, he basically becomes the group's boyfriend at some point.
has already written a poem about your blue eyes but you don't need to know that.
holds your hand everywhere, and brings your knuckles to his mouth to kiss them whenever you're distracted or serious.
café dates, library dates, cinema dates... those are his top 3 of normal dates when you have them.
calls you by a diminutive of your name, and sometimes, he says things like honey or darling.
late nights staying up together to watch the stars and see everything happen, from the sunset to the breaking dawn.
calls you his lucky charm.
and many, many more <3
so, here it is! sorry for taking so long, i hope you liked this <333
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lolzwaitwhat · 3 years
Text
Lullaby
Della smiled as she looked over the stolen plans of The Spear of Selene, which was a special rocket ship that her Uncle Scrooge was having built for her for when her baby boys hatched. It was beautiful, she couldn’t wait to take it out for a spin… but it was clear based on the hastily scribbled note on the side of the plans that said that she was not to even know about it until after her boys hatched.
She rolled her eyes, ugh, it was bad enough dealing with Donald being so over-protective and sensitive in regards to her and her unborn children, but now Uncle Scrooge too?
Don’t get her wrong, she loved her twin and he was just as excited for her kids as she was. He was going to great lengths to learn all the things he could to be the best Uncle-slash-father-figure her boys would ever have. It was really sweet, but she felt like he was going overboard with all this concern for the boys’ safety when they haven’t even hatched yet. Heck, the guy went into a panic and baby proofed the entire mansion, magic artifacts and all, within a week after hearing she was pregnant. He even strapped pillows to her, telling her that with how reckless she was, he wasn’t going to take any chances with hers and the boys’ well beings at stake.
For Selene’s sake, SHE was the one who was supposed to have the overprotective and nesting tendencies, not him, what the heck?!
Speaking of nesting, she should go check on her boys.
She slipped the plans into a drawer, making sure to slip them under a false bottom, just in case anyone realized that the plans were missing, and got up to stretch, smiling.
It felt SO good to be able to walk around again, carrying three eggs for that long was awful. She could hardly walk or move very much for at least a month. Donnie was a huge help there, but she hated feeling so helpless, she was used to being a woman of action, constantly on the move. But during that time, she was a lump.
An irritable, emotional lump.
Laying the eggs had been hell and she broke poor Donald’s hand doing it (not that he said a single non-encouraging word the whole time she did it, best twin ever). She was so glad the hard part was done and that she now just had to wait for them to hatch…
All three of them.
At once.
She swallowed.
Donald had taken her to several parenting courses and how to care for baby classes and talking with doctors about possible complications with having triplets and taking her to first aid classes and he’d been helping her look into daycare and helping her get all the stuff she’d need for three babies.
Scrooge had been talking to her about what she wanted to do for college funds and medical insurance and such…
There was so much stuff she never really thought about when it came to taking care of a kid.
And she was going to have three.
Growing up, she thought if she ever did have a kid, if she loved them and showed them that she cared that it would be enough. But there was SO much more to it than that just to raise and care for one child.
And she was going to have three.
And there was a chance that, even if she did all this stuff the way she was supposed to, her kids wouldn’t turn out well or could hate her by the time they’re grown up.
And she was going to have three!
She sucked in a breath as she got up and walked to her door.
Donald said he’d help and he’d meant it. She knew he would do anything for her boys because, that’s just how he was. He loved and took care of his family, he did things even if he didn’t want to because she asked him to or needed him…
Scrooge would be there too, and Ducksworth…
But Scrooge didn’t really raise them, honestly, he gave them a home, made sure they had good education, made sure they had access to good health care and paid for anything they needed. But he didn’t raise them, per say. Their parents had raised them to be how they were. Scrooge didn’t really know how to help them with emotional stuff and he honestly wasn’t the best to go to when it came to ethics. He believed in earning one’s keep and doing so ‘square’, but that didn’t mean that his business transactions hadn’t delved into the grey area every now and then to get what he wanted or that he always did the right thing just because it was the right thing to do.
And then there were Scrooge’s enemies.
Inside the mansion was safe, but what about everywhere else?
Della suddenly wished that Donald hadn’t already baby proofed everything because now she had all this anxious energy and had no outlet to channel it into.
Nothing constructive anyway.
She quickly walked into the hallway and began picking up her pace to the nursery. Why was it so razza-frazzin’ far from her room anyway? Oh, right, because she wanted the nursery to have a nice big window for her kids to be able to see the stars from and to see the lights of Duckburg below at night.
She wondered if Donnie could help her move all of the baby stuff to the room next to hers with the very small windows… wait, no! No! That would make the nursery more like a prison. She wanted it to be bright and sunny and the mansion had great security. And she and Donald and Scrooge would keep them safe.
Yeah, she would be a great mom! No, the best Mom! She could do this! So it was scary, so what? She’d faced dangers most people would only have nightmares about and came out on top! She was Della Duck! And nothing stops Della Duck!
Not even three boys.
She stopped outside the nursery and smiled. Yeah, everything was safe and fine, she and her family would make sure it would be and then when the boys hatched, they’d all go on adventures again and show them the world!
She was then about to open the door when she heard the sound of a guitar from the other side of the door.
Donald.
She opened it and saw him sitting next to the massive pillow where her eggs sat in the warm sunlight. A serious expression on his face, his guitar on his lap and a few sheets of lined paper around him and a pencil by his side as he began strumming a few notes and mumbling something to himself.
“What are you doing?” she asked, making him jump and fall and smacked his head against one of the changing tables they had set up in the room.
He grumbled something about how she needed to learn how to knock as he rubbed the back of his head. He then checked to make sure his guitar was still in one piece (it was) and then looked at her, embarrassed.
“Hiding something Donnie?” She teased.
“…I was working on a lullaby.” He admitted, “I wanted to surprise you with it. I’m making it for us to sing to them whenever they feel lost or upset or scared. To let them know that their family loves them and that everything will be okay.” He stared at her eggs with a determined expression. He was going to make sure those boys always knew they were loved and if anyone dared so much as look at her boys funny, her brother would throw hands, among other things.
Not that she wouldn’t too, but his fights were more amusing to watch.
She smiled and walked over and picked up one of the pages to see it was one of those papers people wrote music on, although what the notes on the page sounded like was a mystery to her. She couldn’t read music. She could read English, Italian, French, German and several ancient and dead languages, but music was a whole other animal.
“Can I hear it?” She asked.
He looked sheepishly at his guitar, “I’m not done yet…”
“That wasn’t what I asked.” She said plainly, trying out a new ‘I’m a mom, I’m in charge’ expression that she’d been working on for a few days now on him.
He gave her a flat look and mumbled about how ‘you still don’t understand a musician’s soul, Dumbella…’ but still played a pretty, gentle tune for her that made her smile.
“I love it.” she said when he finished. He blinked, surprised at the praise. Growing up he’d written many songs, many of which were not her kind of music, so hearing her say she liked it was surprising to him.
“T-thank you.” He said softly, “But I still need to work on the actual words of the song. I wanted it to be like mom’s lullaby to us when we were little, you know? What she wanted us to never forget. The things that are most important. That kind of stuff.” He looked down at the papers spread out before him.
“Can I help?” She asked softly. He looked up at her, surprised that she’d want to work on anything music related.
Rude. She liked music too. She wasn’t as into it Donald, or you know, good at playing anything or anything like that, but she liked it.
“What? If it’s like Mom’s, then shouldn’t I be the one to help with the lyrics?” She argued.
He considered her point, then sighed, “Fine, but I have the right to veto anything that sounds bad.”
She stuck out her tongue, then motioned for him to give her a fresh sheet of paper and the pencil as she took the seat beside him.
“Okay, so how do you write a song, Mr. Bigshot?” she asked him.
He paused, as if trying to think of a way to explain his oh so complicated process, “Honestly, when I do it, I just play a melody and just say how I feel. Or what’s on my mind.”
Huh, that was simpler than she thought. With all his grumbling and pouting, she would have thought there was more to it.
She leaned back a bit and closed her eyes.
What was on her mind… something important… how I feel…
The Spear of Selene popped into her head.
The stars…
The unknown…
Adventure…
“Della?” Donald called, “Della? You there?” He called, “you’ve been out of it for a while now and you’re scaring me.”
She scowled and swatted at him before opening her eyes, “I think I got an idea… Donnie, can you play the song again? But slower this time?” She asked.
He nodded and played as the words left her beak;
‘Look to the stars my darling baby boys
Life is strange and vast
Filled with wonders and joys
Face each new sun with eyes clear and true
Unafraid of the unknown
Because I’ll face it all with you’
The gentle thrum of the guitar faded on the last word and the two of them looked at one another, smiling broadly.
It was perfect.
“Not bad for your first time.” He said as he began playing the song again. She punched his arm and they chuckled as he rubbed his arm.
“Hey Donnie?” She asked.
“Yeah?”
“You think I’ll make a good Mom?” She asked.
He looked at her, surprised by the question.
“It’s not that I don’t love them or something like that!” she assured him, “It’s just, there is just so much to do and they’re not even here yet. I don’t know how I’ll handle one baby, let alone three. I’m scared that I’ll mess up or that they’ll hate me.”
Donald moved his guitar off his lap and put his arm around his sister, “You’ll be fine! And you have me and Uncle Scrooge and Ducksworth and we can ask Grandma and Gladstone and Fethry. We have Gus and Abner if we’re desperate.” She chuckled a bit at that.
“And we can ask Jose or Panchito or Mickey or Minnie, and Goofy’s got a family too! He’s great with Max, maybe we could ask him for pointers. Maybe we can have play dates? I bet he’d love other kids to play with when we have our get togethers!”
“Max is pretty energetic.” She agreed, “Maybe they can wear each other out?”
“Yeah!” Donald laughed before giving her shoulder a comforting rub, “You’ll be a great mom, Della, the boys names not withstanding.”
She scowled at him. There was nothing wrong with the names she picked! Jet, Turbo and Rebel were awesome names! What kid wouldn’t want them when they grew up?
“And we have lots of people who can help us when we need it.” He finished, ignoring her glare, “Everything will be fine, Della, you’re not alone in this. These Ducks don’t back down, remember?”
She smiled, glad he was talking reason, “Yeah. Thanks Donnie.” She said, starring at her eggs.
“Family is the greatest adventure.” She recited, trying to crush this uneasy feeling that had been growing since she found out she was a mom with the words.
“Family is the greatest adventure.” Donald agreed, his glee sparkling in his eyes, “And these boys are in good hands, just you wait and see!”
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artxyra · 4 years
Text
The Secret Life of MDC | Part 3
Part 3 - Welcome to Gotham, now get out!
Part 1 | Part 2 |
Arriving in Gotham was just an absolutely massive mess, that quickly turned into a several page report for Marinette to send to the school board the moment she arrived in her temporary dorm at Gotham Academy.
Let recap back to the airport. When everyone got off the plane, Lila was quick to make up an excuse about Bruce Wayne sending her a private limo that she’ll be happy to bring the class along. Of course, Caline Bustier, absently believed the long-time liar telling her students to gather their belongings and for Lila to call the Waynes. It was as if she had completely forgotten the arrival procedures. Arriving in Gotham, proceed to find the bus driver, and meet up with the Gotham Academy Headmistress to retrieve the rest of the plans for the month. Marinette tried to tell Caline that what they were doing was against the procedure, something that she had to memorize for moments like this, only to be lectured about behavior the second she finished talking off to the side.
Then when they finally arrived at the school, Caline had the nerve to lecture her again about not informing her about the bus before being dragged off by the Gotham Academy headmistress, who clearly was not happy with the decisions made before they could even step foot onto the school grounds. Gotham is not a place to dilly dally unless you know the area or a native.
“Do you think, she’ll be fired after this?” Chloe asks while setting her things into the wardrobe as Marinette clicks the save button on her laptop.
“Maybe, no matter what happens, we’re here for a month regardless of the decisions the GA headmistress and Principal De La Fontaine decides in the coming days. All I know as the class president and temp. TA; my job is to help her overlook you guys.” Marinette sighs and closes the laptop's top before giving Chloe her full attention.
“I still can’t believe you graduated early. Though Adrien and I are grateful you managed to stay despite everything.” It was rare moments like these that made Marinette glad that she gave Chloe a second chance. Chloe had apologized one winter when she was freezing to death outside because her parent went on a tropical vacation on her request and decided to allow the staff to take a few days off. It was Sabine and Tom that took the former bully into their arms and made her feel loved, a love that she rarely receives from her parents. Since that day, Chloe takes pride in the honor of being Marinette’s sister just as Adrien did when they took him in also.
“I couldn’t leave you guys to perish in that class. Also, I just didn’t want to give Lie-la the satisfaction of winning.” Marinette says as her phones with the familiar sounds of “The Other Side” by Ruelle. Instantly, Marinette picks up the phone and smiles. “It’s Damian, he wants to go out tonight. Think I have time before—”
“Go, I’ll keep you from trouble, maybe even invite Adrien over if he isn’t doing the same with Jon.” Chloe pushes the noirette out of their room before closing the door behind the designer with a smirk on her lips.
As Marinette makes her way out of the dormitory, little did she know that Lila was just doing the same but for a different reason.
~*~
Damian Wayne @therealbloodheir I had a wonderful night with my beloved. I can’t wait for more nights like these. [Attached is an image of two hands intertwine with each other with the moon shining between them.]
Nette @GothamsFashionSense Replying to @therealbloodheir That sounds like a marriage proposal. Missing you too.
~*~
In the halls of Gotham Academy, conversations buzz around the single fact that Nette was back in Gotham for the first time in weeks. Groups of students gather around a single person, whose phone is out in the open, all gushing about theories on how the date went.
The same can be said for GA’s exchange students who crowd around Lila Rossi like she was the air.
“Gurl, spill, how was the date? You’re tending on twitter, again!” Alya squeals, gripping Lila’s arm.
“Oh you, it was truly romantic. Damiboo took me on this romantic dinner, but the first place we went to didn’t serve any vegetarian meals, and as you know I’m one but he’s not. We left and found another place that was just right.” Her high pitch voices drive a shiver down people spines, well anyone that is in clear hearing distance to the Italian teen's voice range.
“Do they truly believe that she’s Nette. Bitch please, we all know that Nette has dark hair from the back of the head photos on twitter.” A random student scoffs behind the trio.
The trio turns around looking at the person in a new light. The student had long braided blonde hair and wearing the GA uniform. “You’re not fooled? I was pretty sure that she would try and convert you the moment you step foot into the building.” It was Adrien that spoke first.
“I'm Allegra, besides me is Claude and Allen.” The student says shaking hands with Adrien before continuing with, “Anyone with brain cells can tell you that she is not Nette from @GothamsFashionSense.”
Allegra then takes the empty seat beside Marinette.
“Name’s Marinette, these dorks are Adrien and Chloe.” Marinette says, “About the brain cell thing, we’ve been saying that since she joined our class a few years back.”
“It ridiculous, utterly ridiculous, as to how they manage to hang on her every word. And one of them is a self-proclaim reporter. The bitch hasn’t reported anything remotely true since the liar had joined us and don't get me started on her early years.” Chloe places her two cents into the conversation.
This was the start of a blooming relationship.
Claude, Allegra, and Allen were quick to understand the environment that the Paris Trio was living in. An irresponsible, enabling teacher and a class full of idiots. With the Gotham Trio, the Paris Trio was able to understand how Gotham Academy works and learn the ins and outs of specific places. Despite the fact that Marinette vaguely knows just about much.
~*~
“So, how were your first three days at GA?” Dick Grayson asks as the Paris trio who are sitting on the couch inside the living room of Wayne Manor. "Is it about the same as it was when I went?"
“Dicky, I am this close to making heads roll.” Chloe’s fingers are teaching as a look of crazy twitches in her eyes.
“It wasn’t all that bad the first couple of days and then Lila tried to convince GA students that she was me by photoshopping our twitter photos. Other than that, I’m more worried about when Bustier announces that our class has been invited to the upcoming Wayne Gala. I’m already booked with mine and Chloe’s dresses along with Selina’s and Cass’s.” Marinette says, resting her head on Damian’s shoulder as their hands' interlock. Damian places a quick peck on her forehead.
The room was once again oddly silent before Adrien let out a loud giggle.
The family turns to the model who was staring at his phone with the biggest smile on his face. Adrien was no doubt in a group chat with Luka and Jon about upcoming meetings and plans.
“What?” Adrien asks, looking up to the group of extended family members staring at him. They all quickly look away, some whistling while others mess with the person they are next to. “Seriously guys, what?” The whining in Adrien’s voice just made it harder for them to pretend to do something as they hold in a laugh.
“Nothing,” Marinette snickers as Damian brings to play with her hair by braiding strands of it. She always liked it when Damian messed with her hair, he sometimes does something nice, surprising everyone with his styling skills.
“Hey, Pixie-Pop and Pixie-Pop’s friends. When did you guys get in?” It’s Jason, to which majority had forgotten about even though Tim was a close second as he is hovering over a half-full cup of coffee trying to stay awake but isn’t with them in reality. Maybe Marinette should make her special concoction that would knock anyone out for quite some time.
“Hey Mari, can you make the switch?” Dick whispers in the designer’s ear. Marinette huffs agreeing to the older sibling’s request. Damian nearly groans as his girlfriend gets off his lap and walks into the kitchen.
Marinette comes out nearly ten minutes later with a steaming coffee mug in hand. She walks over to Tim and pushes his cup out of his hand and replaces it with hers. Tim, absently, takes a sip. Within seconds he is knocked out, cold.
“I’ll never not be amazed at how fast your drink can knock Tim out,” Dick says as he picks up Tim and exits the room. Marinette shrugs and takes her seat next to Damian.
“When does Cass get back from her trip?” It was Chloe who decided to break the silence between them.
“Before the gala, that’s for sure,” Jason answers as he pulls out the controllers for the game console. He gives Marinette a knowing look, who smirks with mischief in her eyes. He should know better than to play against Marinette.
~*~
It was times like this that made Marinette wish that the school board had investigated Mlle. Bustier years ago, like for example when the liar first tried to get her expelled in college. Yeah, that was such a long time ago.
Today was supposed to be an easy-going day, but for some reason, Lila managed to convince the teachers, Mlle. Bustier specifically, to allow the class to visit a nearby street mall. Mlle. Bustier, of course, agrees despite the GA teachers telling her that it was a bad idea to let the student go out unsupervised in a place they still don’t know much about. Caline laughs it off stating that they’ll be fine, and it’ll be just like walking down the streets in Paris. That added another dash to her inability to be a proper teacher.
Which brings us to the street mall. Lila was going into stores left and right proclaiming to be Damian Wayne’s girlfriend or stating that she is the niece of some high profile celebrity in hopes of getting free or discounted items. That doesn’t dwell well seeing as Gothamites are not as gullible as Parisians.
The Paris Trio along with the GA Trio watch the mess that she was drumming up from afar. Chloe had invited Allegra to join them which then extended to Claude and Allan who wanted to go for the arcade.
Lila even had the nerve to ask Adrien to join her and Alya shopping trips with the underlying message of making him pay. Once being denied on numerous occasions, Alya managed to steal Nino’s wallet in hopes of paying for all their stuff. Yeah, that didn't help their relationship status.
“Alya I told you that money wasn’t for you,” Nino screams into his girlfriend’s face as she tries to come up with an excuse. He was infuriated.
“Nino, baby, if you love me you would have just given me the money. Lila really needed those items for her date with Damian.”
“I don’t care about Lila’s need; she is not my responsibility. In fact, neither are you, Alya. You just spent the money I had saved up for this trip.” Nino had wanted to go into a DJ shop that sold the equipment he wanted and started saving the moment the trip was announced the year before.
“Stop bitching, it was only a couple hundred dollars.”
Oohs and side-eyes make up the crowd they were drawing. It was a free drama tv for them.
“Ooh what do we have here, a lovers quarrel? Now would be the perfect time to spring my new trap.” Suddenly, it was like time freezes.
~*~
Chloe B. @QueenBeeOfParis The best thing about my idiotic classmates is television drama. #savemefromthem
Tina @thepinkmistress I was finding my own business when this shit happens. [Attach is a video clip of a couple arguing and goons dress in green takes over the streets]
Tim Drake’s Bish @rachelcovefe The nerve of this group. Just finished my shift only to be told by some foreigner that she was @GothamsFashionSense like bish please I know you ain't her. #anotherdayingotham
Kimmy @kimmyontheblock Replying to@rachelcovefe OMG same but she then added in that she was Jagged Stone's niece. Um excuse you but we all know that it's @MDCfashion
Mari Needs Coffee @MarinetteMemes So the first relaxing day in Gotham ruined by the Riddler and Lie-la’s fanatics. Yup, so good to be back. #memescomingsoon #goodgrief #imabouttoheadout
Part 4 >>
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687 notes · View notes
themetaphorgirl · 3 years
Text
in which Emily makes a poor choice
HEY Y’ALL I AM BACK!!! WITH A PATRON SAINT DRABBLE!!
Y’all can thank @linguinereid for this one!! Sweet Bee suggested this and I ended up writing part of it while I was in line for rides at Epcot. 
I’m excited to be writing and posting again!! Please tell me what y’all think of this one, and tell me what I’ve missed in the past couple of weeks!!
---------
Emily poked at her ear, trying to twist around to get a better look in the mirror. “Shit,” she mumbled, wincing as she prodded a sore spot. She leaned across the bathroom counter, almost sitting in the sink. “I think I fucked up. Shit.”
“That looks infected.”
She jumped in surprise and fell off the counter, hitting the faucet on her way down and splashing water across her shirt. “What the fuck!” she exclaimed. Spencer stood in the bathroom doorway, head tilted and eyes wide like a very small owl. “You little gremlin, you scared the shit out of me! What are you doing in here?”
“You left the door open,” Spencer said. “What’s wrong with your ear?”
She fumbled to turn off the faucet and pick up Hotch’s knocked-over toothbrush. “Nothing.”
“It’s red and swollen,” he said. “That’s a sign of infection. What did you do?” His eyes went wide. “Did you get that piercing after Hotch told you it was a bad idea?”
She smoothed her hair down over her ear. “Nope,” she said. “Why would you think that?”
“I heard you guys arguing about it,” he said. “Hotch said it was against dress code, and you said you didn’t give two fucks about dress code, and he said you were shit at cleaning the piercings you already have and you’d fuck up your ears, and you said-”
“Okay, okay, you and your eidetic memory can stop at literally any time,” Emily said, rolling her eyes. “It’s not that big a deal. There was a girl at the party last weekend who said she’d pierced like everybody’s ears at camp last summer, and she’d always wanted to try an industrial, and-” She paused. “Why am I explaining myself to you? You’re ten.”
“Nine.”
“Close enough. Why are you here, anyway?”
Spencer shifted his weight. “I have to pee,” he said.
“All right, I’ll get out,” Emily said. “But not a word to Hotch, understand? Not a single word. He cannot know about this. You know how smug he gets when he right about something.”
“Is he right, though?” Spencer said. “Did you fuck up your ear?”
“Okay, no swearing either, Alex will murder me if you pick up on me swearing,” Emily said. She stepped out of the bathroom and gave Spencer a little push inside. “Seriously, though. Don’t tell Alex either. You know she’ll be pissed at me too. I’ll- I’ll buy you that Star Wars lego set you want as long as you keep your mouth shut.”
Spencer brightened. “The Millennium Falcon?” he said.
“Sure, sure, why not, just keep your mouth shut!”
She closed the bathroom door and went back down the hall to the common room. It was Derek’s week to pick for movie night; he was having a great time with whatever Will Ferrell comedy he’d chosen, but Hotch was focused on his homework and Alex was reading a book. Emily sat down in her usual spot, tucking her legs underneath her. Her ear was still burning, but she brushed her hair over it surreptitiously. She could keep it a secret, as long as Spencer did. It would be fine.
By Tuesday, she realized it was not fine.
Her ear continued to swell and throb, the skin red and stretched tight around the barbell in the cartilage. She’d had to actually style her hair every morning instead of throwing it up in a messy ponytail or bun, or asking JJ or Alex to braid it for her. It wouldn’t take long for Alex to catch if she kept this up- she was famous for rolling out of bed at the last minute, getting up early to do her hair was drastically out of character. But she wasn’t sure who to be more afraid of catching her, Hotch or Alex.
She sat down at their usual table in the dining hall and pulled her hair back behind her ear, hissing when her nails brushed the irritated skin. “Oh, fuck,” she mumbled under her breath. It wasn’t good. It really wasn’t good. 
Spencer climbed up on the chair beside her. “Are you doing okay?” he asked. 
She sighed heavily. “How bad does it look?” she asked. 
Spencer knelt on the chair so he could lean his elbows on the table. “Pretty bad,” he said. “Ew, is it oozing? I think it’s oozing.” He wrinkled his nose. “You should tell somebody.”
“Like hell I will,” she said, pulling her hair back into place. “This is a hill I will die on.” She paused. “This...this won’t kill me, will it? I won’t actually die on this hill?”
“Probably not, but infection was one of the leading causes of death during the Civil War,” he shrugged. “Try rinsing with saltwater, that might help.”
“Really?”
“Couldn’t hurt. I mean, in a manner of speaking. It’ll probably hurt a lot.”
Emily blinked. “That wasn’t reassuring, babe,” she said.
Hotch walked over to them and set his tray down. “What are you two talking about?” he asked as he sat down and cracked the top of his yellow Red Bull.
“Nothing,” Emily said quickly, dropping her fork in an effort to pick it up fast.
Alex set a glass of milk down on Spencer’s tray. “Sit on your butt or you’re going to fall on the floor again,” she said. 
Spencer tilted his head back to look up at her. “I wanted chocolate milk,” he objected. 
“Plain first, darling,” she said, bending to kiss his forehead. “Now sit down before you fall out of your chair.” Spencer obeyed, sliding down from his knees to sit down. 
Emily poked her fork around in her scrambled eggs. They were way too yellow and a little watery around the edges, and her stomach turned. “Emily, are you okay?” Hotch asked. 
“Yeah, fine, why do you ask?”
He gestured towards her tray with his Red Bull can. “I don’t think I’ve seen you eat anything since you came back from the party on Friday night,” he said. “Are you still sulking because I told you not to pierce your ear?”
“I don’t sulk,” Emily scoffed.
“Yes, you do,” Hotch said. “You’re pissed because you know I’m right, and it would be a terrible idea to get an industrial. Especially since you don’t have a guardian over eighteen to sign off on it, so it’d be illegal.”
Emily stabbed her fork into the eggs. “I’m fine and I’m not sulking,” she said. “But you’re wrong. I’ll be fine if I get my ear pierced.”
She met Spencer’s gaze. His hazel eyes were wide, glancing over first at Hotch and then at Alex, but he kept his mouth shut. Her ear throbbed, but she wasn’t going to give anyone the satisfaction of knowing they were right. 
By Friday, she knew they were right, and she hated it, but damn, her ear hurt. 
She huddled in the corner of the library sofa, her history textbook open on her lap but long forgotten. Her ear was an ever-present pain now, too sensitive to touch, and oozing something disgusting. 
The library was quiet and peaceful, rain tapping steadily on the window. James was sorting through his anatomy flashcards while Dave pretended to write a paper while he was really working on the novel he claimed he wasn’t writing. Spencer was lying on his tummy on the floor, absorbed in a book far above his grade level. The rest of the kids were at clubs or practices, and Alex passed by in her own paths as she shelved books and answered questions.
She glanced up to see Spencer watching her poke at her ear; she dropped her hand and glared at him. “Don’t say anything,” she said to him sharply in Russian. “Remember the Millennium Falcon.”
He sighed heavily. “Your ear looks really bad,” he said. His Russian wasn’t as strong as his Italian, and his accent was terrible, but at least James and Dave wouldn’t understand them.
“Not a word!” she said.
Alex plunked down on the opposite side of the couch, jostling Emily and making her scowl. “I’m taking a break,” she sighed. “The sophomores are working on their poetry projects and I don’t want to discuss Ezra Pound anymore.”
Spencer pushed himself up from the floor. “Alex?” he said. “Can I ask you something?”
“Of course, dearest,” she said, taking his hands in hers. “What’s up?”
“If I told you I wanted to do something and you said no, and I did it anyway, would you be mad at me?” he asked.
Emily shot him a dirty look, but he ignored her. “Well, I might be a bit disappointed, but I don’t think I’d be mad,” Alex said, squeezing his hands. 
“If I did the thing anyway, and I ended up getting hurt, would you be mad at me?” he asked. 
“No, I wouldn’t,” Alex said, drawing him onto her lap.
“And you wouldn’t tell me you told me so? And you’d help me?” he continued. 
She frowned, clearly concerned over this line of conversation, and hugged him. “Of course I’d help you, baby,” she said. She stroked his hair away from his forehead. “What’s wrong? Did something happen?”
Spencer leaned around Alex’s shoulder to make direct eye contact with Emily. She sighed heavily. “So...you know how I wanted to get an industrial piercing, and you and Hotch said it would be a bad idea?” she said hesitantly.
Alex’s eyes narrowed. “Yes,” she said. “Why?” Emily tucked her hair slowly behind her ear. “Emily, holy shit!”
“It’s pretty bad, huh?” Emily said glumly.
Alex moved Spencer hastily off her lap and leaned over Emily to take a better look at her ear. “Oh my god,” she said. “James, can you come take a look at this?”
James pulled his headphones off. “Hm?” he said. “Oh shit! Emily, what did you do?”
She submitted reluctantly to his poking and prodding. “So a girl at the party last week offered to pierce my ear,” she said. “And it...kind of went wrong.”
“That looks like it hurts,” Alex said, smoothing her hair. “It looks super infected.”
“Yeah, that’s the medical term for it,” James said. “Holy shit, Prentiss, I can’t believe you pulled a Parent Trap.”
“A Parent Trap?”
“Yeah, when Hallie pierces Annie’s ear with a sewing needle, an apple, and...you know what, never mind.”
Emily winced as the earring shifted. “Can you just...make Hotch promise that he won’t say I told you so?” she said. 
“I think he’ll agree that you’ve suffered enough,” Alex reassured her. 
Spencer hovered at her elbow. “I would have said something sooner, but Emily said she’d buy me the Millennium Falcon set,” he said.
“Please don’t scold me for bribing the baby, either,” Emily said. 
“Okay, I might scold you about that one.”
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jasmine-the-fox · 4 years
Text
Phantom thieves of hearts go after Lila Rossi
So... i was looking in my notifications to see what the ones I follow were posting and then someone sent a prompt of a crossover of miraculous ladybug and persona 5, but the person who received the ask refused cause they don’t do crossovers... So why not give it a try?
“I totally know the Phantom thieves of Heart! I was the one who helped be who they are in the first place” Lila claimed like always, it was time to eat there lunch and Lila was telling her “friends” yet another made up story of her’s that they believe in... Meanwhile Marinette was sitting with her friends who know Lila is lying, Kagami, Luka, Aurore, Mireille, Chloe and Adrien.
After Lila lied about a dance that would make Ladybug come see Chloe, the girl decided to change and apologized the group of friends for her actions, when Aurore asked about miss Bustier’s class, Chloe simply shrugged it off “There the bullies’ now, until they apologize to us I have nothing to say to them” she had said making them agree and she joined there group.
Adrien on the other hand... Was harder, his father had Lila hang out with Adrien for whatever reason she wanted... And he realized that the high road wasn’t going to work with her, Kagami also helped him further by making him understand that while he might want Lila safe and happy... He was allowing Mari to be closer to being akumatized then Lila... She also made him see that his desire to date Ladybug was only a fantasy and so he apologized to Mari who forgave him.
“I can’t believe she’s lying like that... But then again I can see her plan” Kagami said as the group nodded “If Lila claimed she knows the Phantom thieves, then one of them will go to the Phansite to demand they steal Mari’s heart, after a while Lila can claim Mari got a calling card and then the next day claim Mari came to see her to admit everything she did bad” Chloe said making Adrien nod “Once they believe her, they will go to Mari thinking there all friends again... And Mari will have no choice but to play along or Lila will destroy her again” Adrien said as Mari giggled.
“There’s no way i’ll play along, i’ll deny it like always and think there all crazy to think that” she said making them nod to her in understanding... As Alya glared at Mari while pulling out her phone “Alya... What are you doing?” Nino asked as he saw her on the Phansite “I’m going to ask the Phantom thieves to steal Mari’s heart... They need full names right? So i’ll give it to them” she said as she believed what Lila said about all people connected to the bad guy must have there full names written... What she didn’t know is she was giving them Lila on a silver platter.
Alya smiled as she wrote the request, once she tells Lila what she did her BFF will thank her for the help. Once she finished writing it, Alya looked it over before sending it to the site for the Phantom thieves to see “Lila will thank us! Once Mari has a change of heart will be friends” Alya said as Nino nodded... But wondered if it wouldn’t bite them in the end, he wondered... If what Adrien said was true... Was Lila really lying? Adrien did tell him to look into what Lila claimed online, but Alya wanted to go on dates with him... He never got the chance but now he could, so while Alya was focused on telling Lila about the nice thing she did... Nino searched Lila... And only found the Ladyblog... Lila lied from the very start... They were lied to.
He had to fix things with Mari and the others right now.
In Japan, at Leblanc...
“Did you guys see the post from Paris? Something sounds weird from it” Ryuji codename Skull said as he looked at his phone “Your right, I looked over the post and did some research online... And I can tell that the “Victim” she claims is lying” Futaba codename Oracle said as she typed on her laptop “Why am I not surprised?” Akechi codename Crow sighed as he looked at the request “The title is: Marinette Dupain-Cheng needs to stop bullying Lila Rossi” Ann codename Panther read ���In Paris, a class got a transfer student names Lila, she was sweet and had many stories to tell them all but Marinette was jealous and ended up bullying her” she read.
“As it turns out, she would do anything to Lila and make her cry... Not once wanting to be her friend... So the class decided to bully Marinette back to avenge Lila, but it wouldn’t change her ways... She kept going and it got worse” Ryuji reads making the group sigh “It was then that Lila told them she’s our friend and that she was the one who made both our team and the Phansite” Haru codename Noir says with a glare as she looks over the post “So Alya who made the post and bullies Marinette decided to ask us for help since Lila is scared of telling the school when she wants to fix things with Marinette... How disgusting of lie” Yusuke codename Fox finishes “What do you think Ren?” Morgana codename Mona asked as Ren codename Joker thinks it over before nodding.
About a week had passed since Alya sent the request... Lila worried for nothing in the end, she thought they would come but it looks like they weren’t coming “Alya... I think you should take down your request” she said as she acted like she was sad “What!? But why!?” she demanded “Because... It doesn’t look like there coming, there wasn’t a calling card here at all and Mari still hasn’t changed” Lila explained which was a lie... The truth was now she didn’t need to worry about getting a calling card... She did remember meeting a girl who asked her questions about the school and so did her friends which she thought was weird but nothing more.
“LILA!” Rose yelled as she rushed over “Calling cards! The Phantom thieves of heart placed calling cards at the school!” Rose claimed as Lila’s eyes widen while Alya grew excited “See! I told you! Now Mari will have a change of heart!” she claimed as Lila faked a smile “Um” hearing Rose made them turn to her “It’s not Mari there after... There going after Lila’s heart” she explained making there eyes widen as they rushed into the school to find calling cards all over.
“Lila Rossi” they turned to find Mari reading out loud the calling card “You who enjoys making those who won’t follow your lies suffer will stop now, we the Phantom thieves of heart have read the request filled with lies and know you are the true villain. So we will be stealing your heart and make you admit all of your crimes from your mouth. From the Phantom thieves of heart” she finished as Chloe laughed “Looks like someone really did send them a request and it backfired” Chloe laughed as Adrien glared towards Lila “Guess will just have to wait and see when it happens” he said as the trio headed for class while Lila grew furious... All the while her shadow self was enraged at the Phantom thieves planning to destroy all her work.
Meanwhile the Phantom thieves were inside Lila’s palace, Lila saw the school as her empire... Filled with those who believe her lies... While the ones who knew she lied were punished and then end there lives, Lila was at the top with her golden eyes as all shadows had with a distorted voice, she wore a modern but Italian style of a goddess dress with a veil covering her mouth, she had her followers attack for her while Adrien stood by her side like she wanted him to be as her lover... But she still lost her staff... That became her journal that contained every entry of every single lie she ever made... Including her thoughts on those who believed her.
That day, Lila ended up going home feeling the need to admit to her lies... Starting with her own mother who came to greet her... Miss Rossi was furious towards her daughter for lying to her, the next day Lila went to see the principal to admit to him her lies and then went to class to tell before her classmates and her teacher all her lies... And how she saw her “friends” in reality making the class and Caline look at Lila in horror... At the fact they were tricked for two years... Not that Marinette Dupain-Cheng was right this whole time... The class screamed and attacked Lila without mercy... Forgetting that they destroyed so much of Mari’s stuff that she noted how much it all costed and was planning to send the amounts to each classmate who destroyed something specific.
For the next two weeks, Police came to question the whole class and anyone who encountered Lila in any shape or form... It took a long time and Mari was the last one to be questioned... But what she had to say shocked the police “She had the whole class under her control” she had said “It was so bad that they would hurt me and destroy my stuff because Lila claimed I did something to her... I have so many pictures of some overly damage things and kept everything they destroyed that the total would make one of them be in debt if it was only one of them” she explained, this caused the police to push the school to get security cameras and to make sure there is no bullying.
At the end of the day, the class thought it was over... They were wrong, after Mari was questioned the police asked for the destroyed items and pictures to be organized by the student who destroyed it, the police then got the totals for each student and they went to see there parents to present them the proof and totals of money they owe Mari... There parent’s showed no mercy to them as they began confiscating things for months while forcing them to work in order to pay Mari back... And that wasn’t easy for most of them in reality.
Nino, Rose and Nathaniel were the only ones who barely destroyed anything... Just one item and it was easy to pay back, Alya, Kim, Max, Alix, and Sabrina had destroyed the most and were taken out of activities and forced to get jobs while Mylène, Ivan and Juleka while things were taken from them they paid most of what they destroyed but the kindly asked Mari to give them a week or two to pay the rest... Mari gave them a month to pay her back, by the time the year ended Nino was there friend and he worked very hard to be forgiven, Max was still working on fixing things between them after what he did... Rose on the other hand has been giving them a bunch of gifts thinking she wasn’t forgiven when she was since after she paid Mari back.
Ivan and Mylène don’t forgive themselves for allowing themselves to be tricked by Lila so easily and so they transferred schools and both go see a therapist with the hopes to see them again in the future... While the others mostly Alya don’t realize how bad there actions towards Marinette was, there parents are forcing them to get mental help because of that and so they have yet to graduate but Mari and her small group of friends (minus Nino, Rose and Max) but since then Mari has been seen talking on the phone with someone for some strange reason... And during the summer Alya was pissed when she saw Mari with a model named Ann Takamaki.
Even so it is believed that the Phantom thieves of heart are friends with Ladybug and Chat Noir and have agreed to help them defeat Hawk Moth from within his palace... Gabriel fears the day it will happen since he saw the video Ladybug made with Chat Noir on Aurore’s blog Bugout.
Let’s just say... He’s screwed in the end.
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hecate-hollow · 4 years
Text
Maridami Transfer
A fic for @abrx2002​
Dunno if this is what you were looking for, but enjoy. 
Damian is transferring into the Paris class and he’s giving a single warning to anyone who thinks they can continue to target his beloved in his presence. 
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Lila was having a good day, special emphasis on was. She’d been on her way to meet up with Alya for a late lunch when she noticed Marinette sitting outside a little café with a boy. It wasn’t anyone Lila recognized because, if it had been, they would have known better than to be around Marinette. Who wants to be around a bully after all?
The guy in question didn’t look like a nice guy. Dressed in all black and a leather jacket, with dark skin and black hair? He looked a bit like a biker, she figured, not that it was important. What was important was that he was with Marinette, and Marinette wasn’t supposed to be with anyone. So, she snapped a picture and sent it to Alya playing up a story about how she was worried about Marinette and how she couldn’t believe she would get with someone so dangerous looking in an attempt to make Adrien jealous. The reported bought it hook line and sinker, and all Lila had to do was wait until school arrived the next day.
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Marinette was both nervous and excited for Monday morning. She hated school because everybody seemed to hate her no matter what she did. It was isolating and she found herself in the art room most of her free time because students not in the art program weren’t supposed to be in there (not that it ever stopped them). Still, Marinette hopped it would be more bearable now. There was a new exchange student transferring into her class, and Marinette knew for fact he wouldn’t fall for Lila and her blatant lies.
Of course, that didn’t stop them from trying.
Marinette had been asked to show the new student around before class began, later dropping him off at the principal’s office so a few more things could be finalized, which she did. She left him with the principal and made her way to class. People usually ignored her when she walked in, but not today.
“Girl, I can’t believe you would stoop so low!” Alya called, shoving her phone too close to Marinette's face for her to be able to see anything. She took a step back and scanned the photo in front of her. It was a grainy shot of Marinette at the café she’d gone to for a date over the weekend. It was clear she was the girl sitting there, but the guy she was with was questionable at best.
“I didn’t realize you had taken to stalking me now, Alya.” That sent the teen reeling.
“It’s not stalking! Lila saw you on her way over to my place. I can’t believe you would cheat on Adrian like this?”
“I’m sorry, what?” Adrien in question was sitting in the back of the room doing his best to ignore everything and everyone.
“Oh please. We all know you two have been secretly dating. How else do you explain the way you both sneak off together all the time?”
“I’m sorry, what?” He repeated, trying not to laugh when he caught Marinette’s exasperated look. They definitely weren’t dating. They were close friends, sure, and they spent a lot of time together outside of class for a plethora of reasons, one being superheroing, and another being the fact that they were some the only people in class not under Lila’s spell, but they weren’t dating. Adrien didn’t have a death wish. He knew who Marinette was dating, and he would be a dead man if the guy ever learned he’d even thought about making a move on his beloved.
“I’m not dating Adrien,” Marinette assured them.
“Oh, so you’re just making the rounds then?” Lila suggested. “That would explain so much. I heard a rumor from a few guys on campus—”
“I would suggest you stop talking now.” Lila felt a chill go down her class. Actually, the whole class did. Standing in the doorway was—
“Holy shit? Is that the guy from the photo?” Alya whispered, trying to compare the two.
“Oh, Damian, I didn’t think you’re meeting with the principal would be done already.”
“We just had a few scheduling things to alter, it didn’t take long, and I remembered how to get back to the classroom, so I decided to come back and find you early.”
“Okay, but why?” Alya asked. “You’re literally one of the most attractive people I’ve ever seen, why would you want to meet up with Marinette of all people. She’s a bully and a liar.” Damian did not look impressed. He raised a single brow in the reporter’s direction before his eyes drifted around the room.
“Agreste,” he greeted noticing the model.
“Long time no see, Damian.” That was the most the two interacted before everyone’s attention returned to Alya.
“Angel, is this the girl who’s been spreading rumors about you?”
“Yes and no, it’s mostly Lila and Alya. The others just don’t…I dunno. They don’t fact check, just buy into it.”
“So, you’re stuck in a class of idiots.”
“I wouldn’t call them idiots.”
“I was being nice.”
“Excuse me? I don’t understand who you think you are to call us idiots.”
“A smarter individual? I mean? Mari’s told me all about the Italians little reign of terror. I’m surprised Marinette’s parents didn’t transfer her out of this pathetic excuse of a school already. Lord knows there are better schools she could easily get into.”
“If you don’t like the school, why are you here?”
“Because I like Marinette.” He kissed her cheek. “Wherever she is I want to be there as well.”
“So, you’d rather be around a bully than someone nicer like Lila? I guess that’s a match made in heaven then since both of you seem to get off on looking down on the rest of us?” Damian laughed. It was more of a quiet huff, but Marinette had heard it before and knew what was coming.
“The fact that you think Marinette is a bully is laughable. More importantly, the fact that you can’t tell you’re a bully is even more laughable.” The comment was directed at Alya and Lila because those two had been the main perpetrators of this entire ordeal. Lila took that moment to spring her usual tears, trying to gain the sympathy vote, but Damian ignored her and continued. “I’ve been compiling evidence. Marinette saved all the messages you sent her before she changed her number, those fake accounts you made to trash her design site with bad reviews? Yeah, we traced those to the IP addresses, and low and behold guess who we discovered they belonged to. We have security footage of physical assault on campus grounds, and there’s an entire slander campaign running on the Ladyblog against Marinette which is not quite legal.” Damian threw his arm around Marinette and pulled her protectively against him. “I figured I would give you a warning and a chance to stop before I release the flood gates.”
“You want to sue us?” Alya screeched while Lila simply paled at his revelation. “What gives you the right?”
“Well, considering I intend to marry my beloved sometime in the future, I’ve decided to take it upon myself to go ahead and do what I can to protect her now.”
“Wait, Damian, what is this about marriage?” Marinette stared at him, but Damian only shrugged.
“I’m not proposing now. I won’t for a few years, but when I do, you’re not going to see it coming, Angel. I love you.”
“I know but—”
“No buts. I love you and—” his glare returned to the two teens who’d been leading this conversation, “If I learn you haven’t stopped harassing my beloved, I will bring down the might of the entire Wayne Enterprises Law team on you, and I promise, you will have no future after they are done.”
“You shouldn’t threaten your new classmates, Damian.”
“I just wanted to make sure we are all at an understanding,” He smiled. “By the way, I’m your new classmate. My name is Damian Wayne, I transferred her from Gotham Academy, and there are three people in this room who I’m willing to talk to casually. You know who you are, if you have to guess if it might be you, the answer is no. And I meant every word I just said. Harass my beloved again and I will end you in court. Cease and desist notes have already been sent to your families as of today, so I’m sure they’ll like to have a few words with you as well.” He gave them a chilling smile and headed towards the back of the classroom where Nino and Adrien were already sitting.
“Should have known better than to think you wouldn’t make some kind of dramatic entrance,” Nino huffed, barely looking up from his tablet. “Good to see you again though.”
“How’s the music going?”
“Better now. Thank’s for your help with getting me in contact with some celebrities. They let me shadow them over the summer, it was an awesome time.”
“And my father’s letting me look after more of the business aspects of the company after spending the summer with Tim and Bruce,” Adrien added. “Feel like having the chaos kids in one place again is going to be a bad time for everyone who’s not us.”
“But it will be a good time for us,” Marinette teased, pushing Damian into the seat. “Welcome to Paris, Damian.”
“Thank you, Angel. There’s nowhere else I would rather be right now.”
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varietysunsets · 3 years
Text
My Right Hand Man
Pairing: Diavolo/Kira Yoshikage Rating: T Tags: Domestic AU (with stands!), canon-typical violence, vague descriptions of murder, fluff, enemies to lovers? 👀 Word count: 7700
Description: Kira gets blackmailed into spending Christmas with his new neighbours.
A/N: happy holidays @doctorrosalia, here’s your @jjba-secret-santa ! sorry that this is so long, i havent written since last year’s secret santa so i was a little backed up lol. try to stay safe and relax in these bizarre times 🍹
Read on AO3!
August 28th, 1999
It all began when Kira spotted the moving truck next door.
It was fancy—a name brand with about three or four men in matching uniforms hauling furniture inside the house. Nice-looking furniture, at that. Mostly black leather or white suede, practically new. Modernist style.
Kira couldn’t imagine why someone would move into their Morioh subdivision if they could afford furniture like that. Either they were broke and trying to overcompensate for the fact, or they recently came into money but still weren’t sure how to handle it. Personally, Kira hoped it was the former; if this new neighbour had exorbitant amounts of money, they would probably try to remodel the house. Kira dreaded to think about listening to a construction crew for weeks at a time.
Kira watched the moving crew for a good fifteen minutes while he sipped his coffee. The crew hauled in a large, plastic-wrapped mattress, followed shortly by another, much smaller one, too.
Kira nodded his head. His new neighbour had a child. That wasn’t surprising. A lot of people in the neighbourhood had families. This was a relatively safe place, after all.
The thought made Kira smile a bit. With another sip of coffee, he checked his watch. Almost time to leave.
The movers continued to do their work, steadily unloading the huge truck. As Kira went and rinsed out his mug, he realized that he hadn’t yet seen his new neighbours. And then, it came to him that he would need to learn the schedule of these new neighbours, too. That left a sour note in Kira’s mouth—before, an old man lived there with his extremely young girlfriend. It was easy to bypass them and do what he needed, because the man was senile and the girlfriend was never home, probably partying or seeing other men.
Kira drew a steady breath, calmed himself. He turned to the table, where his girlfriend sat. Stiff, perfect, angelic, almost. All negative feelings washed away from him.
Lovingly, he scooped her up and held her to his face. He kissed the back of the corpse hand, savoring the feel of her soft, cold skin against his lips. She was fresh and delightful; really, he didn’t need to worry about the new neighbours for now, his current girlfriend would last for a good week or so. Maybe longer.
With another quick kiss, Kira wrapped his girlfriend back up and returned her to the fridge. He straightened his tie, collected his briefcase, and went for the door.
He took his time locking the door outside, if only hoping that he might catch a glimpse of his new neighbour. Unfortunately, the curtains were drawn tight and there was no sign of them outside, so Kira began his commute to work curious and unsatisfied.
—30—
September 5th
A week passed. Still, Kira hadn’t seen any sign of life from his new neighbours’ house. Kira tried to break it down rationally, to find clues to tell him anything about these new people; he assumed there was only one parent, given the fact that the furniture brought in was near-immaculate, but missing any feminine touches. Possibly a single father. The problem with that was Kira hadn’t seen a parent or even a babysitter come or go yet. Given the time of year, the child would be out of school, so someone needed to be watching it.
There was so much mystery surrounding these people that it made Kira nervous. He tried to mind himself and rationalize his anxiety, but every time he passed a window, he found himself staring out at the neighbours, desperately grasping for anything he could find.
The only thing different he could see since the neighbours moved in were the slightly open purple butterfly curtains in one of the second-floor windows. Every other set of blinds or curtains were drawn, blocking the inside off from the rest of the world. It was frustrating, so frustrating.
After waking up, Kira did as he always did; he dressed, went to the kitchen to start his coffee, and pulled his girlfriend from the fridge. A rank smell followed her; black rot began to take the edges of her wrist. Kira’s heart sank with despair and disgust.
He couldn’t focus on this right now, otherwise he would get frazzled. Kira shut the fridge door and walked through the house, all the way to the back porch.
The early-morning air was fresh and warm outside. Calm emotions ebbed through him as he breathed steadily.
Then, from the corner of his eye, Kira caught movement in the neighbours’ backyard.
Kira tensed, though he knew he wasn’t in any danger. Killer Queen materialized behind him, set and ready as it peered over Kira’s shoulder. In the neighbours’ backyard was a young child walking around, easily only a kindergarten student or younger, with bright pink hair wearing a sundress.
Kira relaxed, even laughed inwardly at himself. He waved Killer Queen away, though the Stand stayed where it was. Curious, Queen drifted to the porch railing and leaned over, as if closely observing the child. At this point, Kira could have gone back into the house, but there was a strange nagging feeling inside him that made him stay put.
A quick survey of the neighbours’ backyard told Kira that this little girl was completely alone and unsupervised; no one was on the back porch, and as always, the blinds were drawn. Kira knew that he was the most dangerous thing in Morioh, yet he felt uncomfortable leaving the girl alone. Odd, because she wasn’t his responsibility in the slightest. Perhaps only to keep his illusion of being a good person, Kira quietly observed the girl a little more.
She explored around the yard, plucking grass and dandelions. Her curly hair was cropped short around her head, bright pink. Kira had never seen anything like it. Queen beside him stared intently, unblinking, like a cat watching prey.
The girl knelt, scooped another handful of flowers, then happened to turn around. Kira jolted slightly as they made eye contact. Queen jumped to hide behind Kira; the cold feeling of its hands grasped Kira’s shoulders. Without any idea of what to do, Kira waved at her gently.
The girl didn’t smile. Her chubby cheeks perched in an almost-frown, but her yellow eyes were bright. She raised one grassy hand and waved back.
Kira thought she was cute for a child. He never caught onto the baby craze or any particularly paternal instincts, but perhaps now he could understand why women swooned over them. He waved again, smiling softly, then lowered his hand. The little girl put her hand down, too. She kept staring, then decisively started walking towards Kira.
There was no real divide between their yards, only a small grassy slope leading to a shallow valley. Kira kept his yard immaculate and mowed, the neighbours’ grass was almost to the girl’s knees.
The girl made it within three feet of the divide when a man came around the corner of the house. Killer Queen dematerialized, and Kira stood up straight again.
The man was tall and lanky, but despite that, his arms were obviously defined under the sleeves of a black rock band t-shirt. He had a wild mat of long pink hair, and a sharp face with dark circles under hard set, black eyes.
At first glance, Kira could tell the man was his age, but somehow, he seemed much younger.
“Do you have a problem?” The man asked sharply, with an obvious Italian accent. He walked past the little girl and stood partially in front of her.
Kira was taken aback, but he kept his cool. He smiled slightly and bowed his head a little.
“No problems,” He assured the man. His mouth felt dry. “I was just standing here.”
“You were watching my daughter, like a pervert.” The man accused.
Kira almost reeled. His stomach curled at the accusation. “I wasn’t watching her... That way. She looked alone; I was just making sure that she didn’t wander off. No ill-intentions, I assure you.”
Kira sweat bullets under the hard, distrustful stare of his neighbour. It felt like forever before he finally spoke.
“You mind your business next time.” There was no threat attached to the end of the man’s statement, but Kira felt it in his tone.
Shivers rushed up Kira’s spine. Nothing normally scared him, certainly not people, but this man made him feel things. A little bit of fear, maybe excitement at his audacity. It wasn’t the type of attitude people usually took in Morioh, especially not with mild-natured Kira Yoshikage.
“Welcome to the neighbourhood.” Kira offered, trying to recollect his composure. “I apologize that this is our first meeting.”
The man narrowed his eyes. He glared Kira up and down.
Kira forced a smile, even as he held his breath.
Without a word in reply, the man grabbed his daughter by the shoulder and ushered her back towards the house. “Come on, Trish,” he mumbled, so quiet Kira almost didn’t hear.
Trish went willingly, but not without casting one last glance at Kira. Expressionless, she waved.
Kira considered waving back, out of politeness, at least. But soon Trish and her father disappeared into the home again.
Killer Queen’s presence radiated behind Kira’s shoulder. Glancing back, Kira saw that Queen had its hand up, waving back at Trish. Kira rolled his eyes.
“Stop that. She can’t see you.”
Kira returned to his own house. Queen lingered a second longer, staring out unblinking at the lawn, before dissipating and following Kira.
—30—
October 12th
Summer fully ended, and with it came mild Autumn days. As always, Kira went to work, did his errands and chores, and over time he stopped thinking about his odd neighbours as much. He caught glimpses of them here and there, but hardly enough to focus on. Sometimes in the morning Kira saw Trish leave the house for school and join the other neighbourhood children for the commute. Other times, just after dusk, Kira caught glimpses of his strange neighbour creeping to the mailbox.
Through vague conversations with the mailman, Kira pieced together that his neighbour went by the nickname Diavolo. That was about the extent of what Kira really cared to find out; he knew this Diavolo’s schedule and that was all he needed.
So, life went on as usual for Kira.
He met a waitress at a restaurant with exceptionally beautiful hands. He stalked her home to a bustling apartment and strangled her before she had the chance to scream. Killer Queen disposed of the evidence, and the TV playing perfectly hid the sounds of carnage. The exhilaration from killing carried Kira all the way home as though he were walking on air. Kira kept his new prize nestled in his suit pocket; the lingering warmth from the corpse hand was delicious, and her skin was so soft when Kira stroked her.
Kira’s new girlfriend was exactly what he needed in his home; she fit in perfectly, like the missing piece to a puzzle. For the first time in what felt like forever, Kira was completely at peace.
Though every day of the following week was identical, Kira savoured it. Perfect peace in his quiet life, unnoticed and left alone—he couldn’t ask for anything more.
Before work on a Thursday morning, Kira checked his mailbox. He flipped through, sorting the junk from the important letters, almost mindlessly, until he got to an unmarked manilla folder at the bottom of the stack. Curious, Kira pursed his lips. He set the rest of his mail aside and opened the folder.
His heart stopped.
Inside were photographs. Photos of himself, taken through a window, kissing his girlfriend in his kitchen. Photos of him lovingly painting his girlfriend’s nails. Even photos of his girlfriend, from all angles, sitting out on the table and in the fridge, taken from inside his home.
Violent nausea washed over Kira. His stomach twisted into a knot, his chest clenched with anger. He wanted to collapse and scream and throw up all at the same time. Not only was he being watched, but whoever took these photos was inside his home. They touched his things and invaded his space, handled his girlfriend.
As Kira slid the photos back into the folder, he noted a letter tucked inside. Despite the waves of sickness washing through him, he managed enough coordination to read it.
And then he read it over again. And again. And Again.
The letter detailed extremely specific instructions for Kira. A time and place to be, down to the minute, and a gracious description of a man Kira was to kill, “however he usually does”. Then there were threats at the end—promises that Kira’s life would be upturned with the photographs and more if the task wasn’t completed, or if he tried anything suspicious. And that there would be more tasks to come later.
Kira couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think. Almost in a daze, he brought his mail into the house.
Sitting at the kitchen table, Kira gnawed his nails until blood seeped down his fingers and dripped onto the table. Easily, Kira could see himself falling into a slippery slope, constantly running around killing for this blackmailer until he either got caught or got himself killed. Unless he figured out who the blackmailer was and struck first.
When Kira snapped back to consciousness, his hand was covered in blood. He licked his lips, and then went to wash up.
He called out to work that day, his first sick call in months. Kira faked a cough and apologized profusely. His boss wished him well and told him to get some rest and feel better soon.
Kira had no intention of doing either. He spent the day fretting, thinking and mulling over the letter—one part on how to kill and another on how to find his blackmailer.
—30—
October 20th
All things considered, the kill was easy; the target was passed out drunk when Kira arrived. Kira rigged the home with bombs as instructed, and quickly he discovered why his blackmailer wanted this man killed.
The target’s home was littered with photographs—ironically, Kira assumed they were to be used for blackmail, too. He took a moment to examine a few and found that both his and his neighbour’s homes were pictured. Another showed his neighbour leaving the house, in one of his mad dashes for the mailbox.
Though he had many questions unanswered, some of the mystery clicked. Kira finished his task and fled the scene. He was long gone by the time firefighters arrived to put out the blaze that was the target’s home.
—30—
October 22nd
Another letter arrived mysteriously in Kira’s mailbox. Just as Kira feared, the slippery slope had begun.
Once again, the letter listed everything down to the minute detail; Kira was to leave his home at 1:35pm that day and arrive at a nearby park by 1:48. Apparently, the sender had measured the exact time window it would take to get there. As with the last letter, this one was incredibly detailed and well-written, until the very end, that is. The final line read,
Find a young man named Doppio.
Talk soon.
Kira was given no description, no call to action, nothing. What was he to do when he found this Doppio? How was he even supposed to find him? What if he couldn’t?
Worry wrought Kira’s body. He chewed his nails the entire walk to the park, despite trying his best to remain calm. The signs of a beautiful fall day were around him; golden leaves tumbled from the trees and danced in the gentle breeze. All he could think about was whether his not-so-secret blackmailer would expose him completely.
Kira got rushed by violent thoughts of what he might do to this Doppio person when he found him. He wanted nothing more than to use Killer Queen and erase this fool completely, but he couldn’t. There was too much he didn’t know yet. And there were people walking around everywhere in this park.
Most notably, a younger guy with purple hair and a matching sweater struggled to keep a little girl, wearing a backpack and child-leash, in check. He laughed nervously to himself and chided the child gently.
At first, Kira paid them no mind, until he looked closer; the child looked strangely familiar. He paused to observe and realized that the little girl on the leash was his next-door neighbour.
Trish noticed Kira staring first. She glanced over her shoulder and stopped tugging on her leash; instead, she waved her hand at Kira, expressionless and silent. The man with her glanced back as well.
He looked Kira over, then his eyes lit up.
“Oh! Oh!” He said. “You’re mister Yoshikage? Um— Kiri— No, Kira, right?”
Kira bristled slightly. He dug his nails into his palm, in an attempt to soothe the desire to chew them. “Kira Yoshikage, yes.”
The boy sighed deeply in relief. He smiled a weary grin and dropped his shoulders. “Oh, thank god. I’m Doppio. The boss told me to come find you. He said— ha! He said I’d find some old blond guy in a suit walking around the park like a creep. But you’re not— you’re a lot younger than I was expecting.” Doppio laughed awkwardly.
Kira stared at him. His expression slipped into something intense and unimpressed.
Doppio’s laughter petered off. He cleared his throat. Trish tugged viciously on her leash, in a desperate attempt to chase a stray cat strolling by.
“Um... Should we... Walk and talk?” Doppio offered. His body jerked as Trish pulled. “The boss gave me some stuff to talk about with you.”
Kira couldn’t explain the feeling inside his chest. It was a seething anger; not only was he being blackmailed, he had to deal with someone like... This. It was almost insulting, in a very specific way.
Outwardly, Kira tried to seem calm. He bowed his head briefly to Doppio.
“Yes. Let’s go.”
For the most part, Trish led the way. She jerked Doppio every so often, in some violent pursuit of this or that, and without fail every time Doppio laughed awkwardly and gave Kira a ‘what can you do?’ sort of glance.
There were a few people in the park, strolling around and enjoying the day. Normally, Kira blended in well with the crowd, but he felt now that walking beside Doppio and the unruly child made them the centre of attention. Kira’s palms sweated; Doppio remained oblivious that people may be staring at them.
“So... You got the boss’ letters pretty easy, huh?” Doppio said, as though he were making small talk. Trish jerked his arm again, as she rushed towards a small playground in the middle of the park.
Everything about this felt surreal to Kira, like he was living in a fever-dream, or inside a carnival mirror. Maybe this was an elaborate prank, or Kira’s tailored personal hell.
“I did.”
Doppio waited a second for Kira to say more, but when it became obvious that he had finished his statement, Doppio awkwardly filled the silence.
“Well, the boss told me he respects how quickly you got the job done. And effectively! He’s really impressed by you, mister Kira. He thinks you have a lot of potential.”
“That’s... Good.” Kira approached the conversation carefully, lest he accidentally offer unknown information.
Together, they approached the edge of the playground. Doppio knelt and unclasped the leash from Trish’s bookbag.
“Stay where I can see you,” Doppio said to her, but the moment she was free, Trish took off in a sprint towards the jungle gyms.
“If I can ask... Why didn’t your ‘boss’ come out here to meet me?” Kira inquired.
Doppio rolled the leash up in his hand and stood straight. “Oh, uh— he doesn’t really like being out in public, he’s kind of a hermit. But! This is confidential, I promise you can trust in me. I know everything, I won’t rat you out.”
Doppio led them over to some benches on the outskirts of the playground. No one else was around. Despite his weariness, Kira sat beside Doppio.
“I know I don’t seem very trustworthy, and you probably think I’m kind of a dork,” Doppio continued. Kira side-glanced at him. “But I’m Diavolo’s right-hand man. The only reason he sent me out here is because he doesn’t want any more paper trails, get it? This whole ordeal is pretty hush-hush.”
“Diavolo.” Kira repeated softly to himself. That confirmed it. He crossed his legs and leaned his elbow on his knee. “What does he want from me?”
Doppio fiddled with the leash in his hand. He watched Trish run around closely, in case she made a break for it.
“More jobs. The boss has a lot of enemies, you know? But he’s lying low right now, he can’t risk dealing with it himself.”
“Then why would he pick me, a complete stranger?”
Doppio laughed a little. “It’s not like you’ve never met. You live right next door, after all. It’s easier to keep track of you and everything.”
Silence settled between them. For a long second, Doppio and Kira stared at each other. In the background, gravel crunched as Trish fell off the monkey bars, only to quickly jump up and try again.
As the silence and its implications seeped in, Doppio’s expression dropped. Horror etched across his face.
“Oh, shit. I wasn’t supposed to say that. I— I...”
“I already figured that out,” Kira offered. His methods were always perfect, he had no enemies, no reason for anyone to suspect him; it only made sense that his new neighbour, Diavolo, the only new thing in his otherwise perfect life, was the cause of it all.
Doppio seemed slightly relieved, but still there were some hints of terror in his expression. He fiddled more with his hands and glanced around nervously. Then, he started to mutter, “Ring, ring, ring...”
Kira blinked. Doppio got up and paced, all while muttering to himself.
That was one way to leave a conversation cold, Kira thought.
“Ring, ring... Where is it...?”
Almost triumphantly, Doppio picked up a crushed, empty soda can. He put it to his ear and said, “Hello? Doppio speaking.”
Despair settled in Kira’s stomach. He was supposed to trust this man? This entire interaction already felt like a slap in the face, but this was too much. Kira hoped even more now that this was an elaborate prank, or maybe even just a long dream that he would soon wake up from.
Doppio’s eyes lit up. “Boss! Oh— yeah, yeah, he’s here. One sec.”
Doppio turned to Kira and held the can out.
“He wants to talk to you,” Doppio said.
At this point, Kira didn’t know what to think. He felt a thousand eyes staring at him, even though there were only a few people walking around, ignoring them.
Despite the absurdity of this, Kira took the can. Under Doppio’s expectant gaze, he put the can to his ear and said, “...Yes?”
“Yoshikage.”
Kira jolted. Directly in his ear was the voice of his neighbour—Diavolo. Deep and calm, yet heavy and serious.
Kira jerked his eyes to Doppio; the man stood there smiling, waiting patiently. Only then did Kira notice that one of Doppio’s eyes wasn’t quite right—the pupil was darker, twitching, in an uncanny familiar way.
“Listen to me, Yoshikage.” Diavolo whispered to him. Kira watched Doppio’s face the entire time; his lips moved with the speech. “You’re going to do exactly as Doppio says. If you lay a hand on my Doppio or my daughter, I will ruin your life in such a specific way that you will wish you were dead.”
Panic and fear gripped Kira’s lungs. He couldn’t breathe.
“Doppio has more power than you realize, and he will not hesitate to use it against you. And don’t forget, I have your life in the palm of my hand. Check your mailbox when you get home.”
Kira lowered the can from his ear and stared, shocked, at Doppio.
Doppio smiled back innocently. Both his eyes matched again, the irises a bright golden colour.
Kira couldn’t find the words to speak even if he wanted to. Doppio’s smile was almost haunting.
“Let’s talk about your next task then, mister Kira.”
—30—
November 1st
A woman this time, and a pretty one, at that. She had beautiful skin and excellent, gorgeous hands. Manicured. Adorned in expensive rings and a bracelet. Kira imagined she was a pianist, or even a harpist. Something about the delicate nature of her hands led Kira to believe she played an equally regal instrument.
Even though he was there on business, Kira saw no problem with keeping her hands. It would be a waste otherwise, he thought. After some quiet contemplation, and comparing them both, Kira settled on taking the left hand; her right index finger had a broken nail, while the left was completely intact.
Kira finished the job with a quiet blast from Killer Queen. He went home satisfied, with his new girlfriend safely tucked into his blazer.
As soon as Kira stepped into his home, the phone rang.
Confused, Kira glanced at the time; it was late, far later than when he usually got calls of any kind. Wearily, Kira moved to the phone on the wall and picked it up.
“Hello?”
“Hello, Kira Yoshikage.” Diavolo greeted. “Did you have fun tonight?”
Kira felt shivers go down his spine. He considered hanging up, but something kept him standing there, waiting for Diavolo to say more.
And he did.
“I assume you did. Did you bring home a souvenir, by chance?”
Kira’s stomach wretched a bit. “What do you want? Can’t I have an evening in peace?”
Diavolo laughed. “Oh, sure. I don’t have another task for you yet, I just wanted to thank you for your work. Based on your reaction, I assume you got my gift.”
“...What do you mean?”
“I picked her out special for you, couldn’t you tell?” Diavolo stated, as though it were obvious. He laughed again, a haunting sound. “You’re a despicable man, Yoshikage, pretty perverted, but your taste is obvious.”
Suddenly, the corpse hand in Kira’s pocket felt impossibly heavy.
“No need to thank me,” Diavolo continued. “I’m sure you’re beyond grateful. I have nothing else for you right now, but we’ll be in touch. Ciao.”
Diavolo hung up, leaving Kira standing there, stunned into silence. Up until now, he assumed that everything about Diavolo was despicable. Weird and despicable. This, however, felt bittersweet; possibly the strangest gift anyone had ever gotten Kira, but also... The most thoughtful.
Kira didn’t want to dwell on it for too long. He did his best to push it out of his head, to Zen out while he went about his nightly routine.
Still, his mind wandered back to Diavolo. The strange gift. His deep voice.
It all haunted Kira, but not necessarily in a bad way.
—30—
December 10th 1:15pm
Over the course of the next month, Diavolo’s tasks shifted from murderous in nature to more... Domestic.
It was frustrating and borderline insulting at first that Kira was expected to go around collecting dry-cleaning and groceries—Kira was much more than someone’s errand-boy—but at the same time, Diavolo found intriguing ways to reward Kira for his service. Money and dropped hints to help him find new targets, always beautiful and model-worthy, in Kira’s opinion.
Though originally he despised Diavolo, now Kira couldn’t help but see some merit in the strange man, at least as far as his taste went and little else.
That being said, Kira’s next task was... Unexpected.
Kira got the call while he was at work, which jarred him, but he supposed that he shouldn’t expect any less from Diavolo at this point.
“Hello, Yoshi.” Diavolo’s voice pierced through Kira, giving him a gut-reaction shiver.
“Please don’t call me that.”
“Why not? Does it make your skin crawl? You should consider it a term of endearment. I think more people should call you it.”
Kira sighed. “These calls are recorded, you know.”
Diavolo sounded amused. “I figured. I need a favour of you.”
Kira glanced casually over his shoulder. Though his expression remained calm, his palms started to sweat.
“A favour?” Kira ventured carefully.
Diavolo hummed in his ear. “I need you to pick Trish up from school today. And then take her to go get Christmas decorations for an hour or so.”
Kira furrowed his brows. As Diavolo spoke, Kira poked his pointer finger to his lips and chewed the nail.
“This is an odd favour from you,” Kira muttered, choosing his words carefully.
“I know. But you’re the only person I trust to do this.”
Kira wanted to laugh. Diavolo trusted him? Given the chance, Kira would strangle him and chop him to bits, then use Killer Queen to erase all evidence that he existed. He wouldn’t hesitate.
Yet at the same time, deeper down, Kira felt hesitation. He tried to play it off as self-sustaining worry, but he knew better.
Eventually, Kira replied, “I get off work at four.”
“Good. I’ll see you later tonight, then.” Then, Diavolo teased, “If anything happens to Trish, I’ll skin you.”
Kira chuckled at that, even though he knew that Diavolo was completely serious.
—30—
December 10th 4:25pm
Trish had no emotion and no expression when Kira came to pick her up. She left the other children playing on the playground without looking back and willingly approached Kira’s car. She was bundled up warmly in a jacket with matching splash pants and a knit hat.
“Hi Yoshi.”
Kira pursed his lips. “You ought to call me ‘mister Kira’ instead.”
Trish frowned and took an attitude to her tone. “Papa told me to call you Yoshi.”
“It’s more respectful for you to call me Kira.”
Trish paused a long moment. She pulled the knit hat off her head, revealing a tangle of short, frizzy pink hair.
“I’m gonna call you Yoshi,” she said decisively.
Kira couldn’t believe the audacity of this brat.
“At least call me ‘Yoshikage’.”
Trish wrinkled her nose. “Yoshi.”
Kira gritted his teeth. His mind was plagued by violent thoughts, and his hands twitched at his sides. Inside his chest, he felt Killer Queen itching to be released.
“Didn’t your father teach you to respect your elders?” Kira asked calmly instead.
Trish glanced up at Kira. Her expression soured further, and she stuck her tongue out.
“He told me I’m not s’pposed to go anywhere with strangers. Where’s uncle Doppio?”
“I’m not sure,” Kira said, holding in his annoyance. He opened the car door and ushered Trish inside. “We’ll have to ask your father later.”
Trish crossed her arms and pouted. After getting buckled in and settled, she stared angrily out the back window as they drove.
“...Is your ghost still following you?” Trish eventually asked.
Kira glanced back at her through the rear-view mirror. “I’m sorry? My ghost?”
“Yeah. The pink one.”
“I don’t have a ghost following me,” Kira lied.
“It waved at me,” Trish continued to say. She stared hard at the back of Kira’s head, as though it would make the ‘ghost’ in question appear. “It was big and pink and had kitty ears.”
Kira’s hands were clammy. He felt Killer Queen swell inside his chest, almost desperate to materialize after being talked about. Kira pushed it down.
“You have a wild imagination. There are strange things in this world, but I doubt ghosts are one of them.”
Trish didn’t seem satisfied with that answer fully, but seemingly she took it. To stave off further questioning, Kira turned the radio on. It worked well enough, until they reached their outlet mall destination.
Normally, Kira avoided the mall whenever possible, especially around the holiday season. It was too busy for his liking and the appeal of Christmas never really resonated with him personally; if anything, it felt like a waste of time. However, his anonymity laid on the line, so Kira put forth a forced smile.
“Your father wants you to pick out some Christmas decorations.” Kira told Trish. “Do you have any ideas of what you’d like?”
Trish shook her head. She intentionally looked away from Kira as they walked through the bustling mall.
Kira seethed quietly. He led Trish towards a specialty knick-knack store and shooed her in. “Well, think about it. Let’s look around.”
There was no shortage of Christmas decorations in the store. Everything was covered in red or green tinsel, doused with fake foam snow. Sparkly ornaments and colourful decorations flashed and sang everywhere. Kira couldn’t help being a little overwhelmed by the amount of pure, unadulterated Christmas spirit he was surrounded by.
Finally, Trish’s expression shifted slightly. Though she didn’t smile fully, she did seem mildly impressed by everything. She wandered further into the store, following singing snowmen and dancing Santa’s.
Kira tried to follow, but easily became distracted. For the most part, he wondered about how anyone could find these annoying traditions endearing. Personally, Kira preferred modest, if any, Christmas decorations and quiet nights by himself throughout the holidays.
While Kira wasn’t paying attention, Killer Queen materialized. It lingered behind Trish, glancing around and inspecting her as she admired a wall of Christmas tree ornaments. Curiously, it reached its hand out to swat her shoulder.
Kira caught the movement out of the corner of his eye. Before he could stop Queen, a separate entity appeared. All Kira saw was a flash of hot pink before it reeled back and punched Queen full force in the mouth.
At the exact same time, Kira also felt the punch being delivered on himself. The force made him reel, lose his balance, crash to the ground. Thankfully, no one else was in the aisle to stare and gape. Pain ebbed through Kira’s face, anger and confusion welled up inside his chest.
Kira stared at Trish in utter disbelief, clutching his jaw.
For the first time since Kira had met her, Trish emoted. She decisively picked a sparkly, pink disco-ball ornament off the shelf and held it close to her chest. She looked Kira over, and then said with a smile, “I have a ghost, too.”
—30—
December 10th 6:01pm
Kira wanted to drop Trish off on the doorstep and vacate. However, before he could he even ring the doorbell, Doppio threw the door open. He seemed flustered, his face slick with sweat and his smile wild and nervous. He had his sleeves rolled up his elbow. Kira noted a small, dark stain on the bottom hem of his sweater.
“Oh! Mister Kira, perfect timing. I was just cleaning up. Come inside, won’t you?” As Doppio spoke, Trish took the chance to slip inside. She brushed by Doppio, and he acknowledged her by ruffling her hair and saying, “Welcome home, sweetheart.”
Kira awkwardly held a paper bag of assorted ornaments and decorations by his side. His jaw still throbbed from the assault earlier.
“I don’t want to impose,” Kira said, though deep inside he wanted nothing more than to see the inside of Diavolo’s home; even just a glimpse would suffice.
Doppio opened the door further. He ushered Kira inside. “Not at all! Please, come in. Make yourself comfortable.”
Kira did come inside, and though normally he felt uncomfortable in barrages of social settings, he felt quite relaxed now. Maybe it was the relief of moving from a bustling mall to somewhere much, much quieter. Maybe it was that in combination with the excitement of finally seeing Diavolo’s home.
Doppio motioned Kira in and closed the door behind him. He smiled, and led the way towards the living room. The walls were crisp white and mostly clean; Kira noted a few criminal spots where crayon was smudged low on the walls.
“Did you want a coffee or a tea or anything?” Doppio asked. Obviously, he was just as excited about having guests as Kira was to be there.
“Tea would be nice. Whatever you have.”
Doppio grinned and nodded. “Okay! Sure, one sec. The boss’ll be right down, too.”
“No rush.”
Kira glanced around the living room, openly taking in everything that he could see. There was an odd dissociation between the niceness of the furniture and the children’s toys laying around on the floor. A collection of Barbie dolls lay discarded in the middle of the floor, along with an open case of pink glittery makeup, dangerously close to spilling on a lovely white carpet. In the very-most corner of the living room was a tall, fake Christmas tree; unsurpising, Kira doubted Diavolo would manage to find a real Christmas tree in Morioh. Upon closer inspection, Kira noted that there were drops of blood on one of the branches. And below, the floor was sparkling clean, but still wet; obviously recently cleaned.
Kira couldn’t help wondering what happened here. Potentially something to do with the fact Diavolo needed someone to pick up and distract Trish.
“Good to see you again.”
Kira twisted around. Diavolo stood in the doorway of the living room, and it occurred to Kira then that he hadn’t actually seen Diavolo since their first meeting. Kira’s heart skipped a nervous little beat, which he chose to ignore.
Diavolo looked much more well put-together than he did before. His hair was combed and fell neatly across his shoulders, his lipstick looked rushed but still befitting. Kira noted that along with a mesh shirt, he wore the same pants as Doppio.
“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” Diavolo continued. He offered out a mug of tea to Kira. “Sit down. Make yourself comfortable while you’re here.”
Kira took the mug cautiously. Kira couldn’t help noticing that Diavolo painted his nails black; sloppily, at that. Kira tried not to let it linger in his mind, but as he sat down on a white suede chair, he couldn’t help thinking that, given the chance, he could have painted Diavolo’s nails much nicer. That thought, Kira realized, would probably haunt him for a while.
Diavolo took the paper bag of ornaments and brought it to the tree. He rooted through it, nodding his head.
“Excellent. I appreciate your help, Yoshikage.
“You know, you’re the only person who calls me by my first name.” Kira stated over the lip of his tea. “Everyone else has enough respect to call me Kira. I don’t even know how you found my full name.”
Diavolo grinned. He procured a box of white Christmas bulbs from the bag and turned it over in his hands.
“I respect you,” Diavolo said. “People I don’t respect don’t get referred to by name at all. And it wasn’t hard; I have my ways.”
“The same way you found my work phone number?”
“Exactly. You’re quick, Yoshi. That’s why I like you.”
Diavolo opened the box of bulbs. Kira’s eyes followed his hands; they were slender, with long fingers and smooth skin. Hands that hadn’t seen a day of hard labour in a long time, Kira figured. Aesthetically, they were perfect.
Kira forced himself not to stare. Live hands seldom intrigued him, but something about Diavolo’s seemed different. Perhaps it helped that he was an attractive man, even if his personality could be annoying and almost abrasive.
“Doppio said you liked me because I’m easy to control and watch over.” Kira said, to distract himself. He looked around the room, away from Diavolo’s working hands.
“Give yourself more credit. That’s only part of the reason.” Diavolo said. He placed another bulb on the tree. “You’re self-motivating, and handsome, too. I like surrounding myself with beautiful people.”
Kira sputtered on his tea. That wasn’t the response he was expecting. It left a mixed-feeling in Kira’s chest, wherein he felt pleased by the acknowledgement but also startled.
Diavolo looked back over his shoulder. “And look, you’re good with children, too. I took a chance on you with that, but I didn’t have many options today.” He smiled. “Work related business, you see.”
“I see,” Kira muttered, still processing this all. Deep down, Kira felt... Giddy. Excited, almost. He shouldn’t have, but he did. He couldn’t help it.
Little footsteps came running down the hall. Trish appeared in the living room door, having ditched her school uniform and winter clothes in favour of a princess play-dress.
“I wanna decorate the tree.” She said, intensely.
As if nothing had happened up until then, Diavolo nodded. “Go ahead. It’s all yours, sweetheart.”
Kira then sat there, quietly processing the entire interaction, while Diavolo helped Trish decorate the tree with sparkling, mis-matched ornaments.
—30—
December 24th
The phone rang. Thinking nothing of it, Kira pulled himself up from his seat and went to answer. He kept his eyes on his TV program the entire time.
“Hello, Kira residence.”
“Ah, so you are alone tonight.”
Kira pursed his lips. “Can I help you, Diavolo?”
“I want you to come over.”
“Right now? I’m in the middle of something.”
“You’re watching TV by yourself. Christmas is a time to spend with friends and family.”
Kira quirked a small smile. “Are we friends and family? Also, it’s considered rude here to spy on your neighbours.”
“Close your curtains next time. Are you coming?”
The TV shifted into a commercial. Kira turned towards the window instead; through a crack in Diavolo’s curtains, Kira spotted a sliver of pink hair peeking back at him.
“Why not come over here and ask me in person?” Kira inquired. He picked up the remote and flicked his TV off. “Or leave a letter under my door.”
“This does just as well, doesn’t it?” Diavolo shot back. His smirk could be heard through his tone. “I’ll see you shortly?”
Kira hummed. “I suppose.”
“Good.”
Life was certainly strange for Kira right now. He hung up the phone and slipped his shoes on instead. Over his shoulder, he casted a glance towards his girlfriend, sitting still on the table in front of the TV. Kira blew her a little kiss; he didn’t want her to become jealous, after all.
Snow blanketed the ground outside; it crunched under Kira’s shoes as he crossed the lawn to his neighbour’s home.
With Kira’s help earlier that week, Doppio had outfitted the porch and doorway with sparkling Christmas lights. They glittered and glowed as Kira knocked on the door.
Diavolo appeared almost instantly. He was dressed nicely in a dark button-up and matching pants.
“You could have just come in,” Diavolo said, stepping aside.
“It feels more professional to knock, I think.” Kira replied.
Diavolo smiled. “This is a professional visit?”
Kira quickly looked Diavolo up and down. “You’re dressed like it is.”
“I enjoy looking nice. And you look...” Diavolo stepped close, more into Kira’s space than Kira would allow from anyone else. He plucked the shoulder of Kira’s purple sweatshirt. “...Comfortable.”
Diavolo’s fingers only barely brushed Kira’s shoulder. A small shiver ran through him, unnoticed.
They stood close to each other for only a moment, before Diavolo took a half step back.
“Glass of wine?” He offered.
“I don’t drink, really.”
“It’s wine, Yoshi, not hard liquor. Children drink wine.” Diavolo said that as he slipped into the kitchen.
Kira followed him with his eyes and said, puzzled, “No, I don’t think they should.”
Diavolo laughed at that. Kira smiled to himself, pleased, as he went for the living room. He sat on the couch, facing towards the TV and the twinkling Christmas tree.
“Trish is asleep, I take it.” Kira said.
“Long asleep.” Diavolo replied, as he came into the room. He sat down beside Kira and stretched his arm across the back of the couch. His hand laid close to Kira’s shoulder; close enough that Kira almost felt its presence. “Waiting for Santa now.”
Kira nodded towards the plate sitting on the coffee table. “That explains the milk and cookies.”
“Trish insisted. I can’t stand sweets, so help yourself.” Diavolo sipped his wine, then said, “Maybe next year we can leave Santa a bottle of ‘92 vintage.”
Kira chuckled. Diavolo’s hand was in the very corner of his vision, close enough to touching him that it made Kira’s heart race. He tried to play it cool, though he had no doubt Diavolo knew exactly what he was doing.
Diavolo lifted his glass to his lips again. Kira glanced, then shifted his gaze between Diavolo’s perfectly painted black lips and how delicately he held the glass stem. Effortlessly. Kira wanted to stroke and hold Diavolo’s fingers the same way he held the glass.
“It’s not... Easy for me to make genuine connections with people,” Diavolo admitted. Kira quirked his brow with interest. “But meeting you... It’s been nice.”
“Meeting is a bit of a stretch,” Kira commented. Despite this, he still clung to every word Diavolo said. “Blackmail is more accurate.”
Diavolo waved his hand dismissively, dangerously close to Kira’s face.
“It still stands. I’m glad I met you, Kira Yoshikage. I feel like we’ve helped each other in a lot of different ways.”
Kira nodded his head. “You aren’t wrong, I suppose...”
Diavolo grinned. He raised his glass of wine and shifted ever-so closer to Kira.
“Here’s to another year of violent success for us,” Diavolo said.
Kira leaned forward and took the glass of milk left out. He raised that and clinked it against Diavolo’s.
“No pun intended, I hope.”
Amused, Diavolo drank. His lipstick left a black mark around the rim of the glass. Then, with a sigh, Diavolo leaned forward and set his glass down. When he came back, he gave Kira a cocky look.
“...Would you believe me if I said that there was a mistletoe above you?”
Kira scoffed with a smile. “No, I wouldn’t.”
Diavolo smirked. “Would asking for a kiss be out of place?”
Kira, amused, lowered his glass. Diavolo did the same. With a carefully practiced elegance, Kira swept up Diavolo’s hand in his own. He wrapped his fingers beneath the wrist, his thumb stroked the soft flesh there. Likewise, he felt Diavolo’s pulse pump.
“Not... Per se.” Kira sighed, his heart racing to hold such a warm hand. It was unusual, but in a new, exciting way. He brought Diavolo’s hand up to his lips and adorned it with a kiss.
Diavolo smiled. Kira smiled back.
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