#while chloe is too wary around her to turn her back for even a moment

[theatre-mqn]

“Why should I trust you?”

“You probably shouldn’t. But you always do anyway.”

The time loop au fuckers have me in a chokehold

(Little detail: every killing blow from past loops leaves a scar. Hence the… jagged mess around her throat. Execution by beheading is not pretty.)

[artxyra]

The Return of the Premier Chaotique

Marinette was only eight years old when her primary school life changed for the better.

On that fateful day, in Mlle. Gilbertine’s classroom was the introduction of a new transfer student. He introduced himself as Damian; there was no last name. And if there was one, Gilbertine made sure she didn’t say a word of it.  

To Marinette, Nino, Chloe, Nathaniel, and Kim, he was an odd boy. Someone that would fit right into their group after a push, as Damian stressed for no social interactions with anyone.

During the early weeks of his stay, Marinette had caught him several times engaging in lonesome activities, whether they were in the classroom or out in the field messing around. Marinette, being the outgoing child that she was, began to plot.

Created from that plotting period was her life’s mission to befriend the emotionless kid.

It was hard at first.

She and the others tried tricking the young man into hopscotch matches, and when that didn’t work, it was a game of red light, green light. Occasionally, Nino and Kim would challenge Damian to dance battles.

Damian was very much against the childish games claiming that they were beneath him, but humored them into defeat.

That was until Marinette decided on a shooting game with water guns and makeshift go-carts out of bike parts. Damian’s eyes lit up with excitement, and Marinette knew right then and there that she finally fulled her goal.

After being soaked from head to toe and laughing amongst friends, Marinette and the others swore Damian into their friend group, thus changing their lives forever.

Soon newer and crazier games began to take over the classroom of Mlle. Gilbertine.

The moment Nino would bring out his portable CD player and the music began to boom out of the speakers, everyone knew what was about to happen.  

One day, while the group was in the school’s pool area pretending to be sea monsters attacking each other with kickboards and pool noodles, they were officially dubbed the “Premier Chaotique” cult. As they were youthful and the material they came up with was more chaotic than anything the future Hawkmoth could ever create.

Everyone knew that Marinette and Damian were the leaders. Together they oozed power, as Marinette was their strategist while Damian was the chief.

Chloe was their lawyer and location scout. The blonde knew what areas had cameras and heavy guarding. Kim was their chaotic developer. He knew what methods were more chaotic than the rest. Kim never failed to disappoint. Nino was their sound design and videographer in some cases. His love for filmmaking and DJing started here and continues to grow. Nathaniel was the tagger as he made sure every graffiti they did was perfect.

Nothing could ruin these kids.  

Mlle. Gilbertine, bless her soul, was determined to get the Premier Chaotique cult under control, but they were slick and made plans at random. She remembers the day when empty ice cream cups filled her classroom. Every desk was covered, and nothing could explain the appearance of snow sleds in the class.

It was no rumor that the mini cult managed to create their own little snow resort using ice cream and shave ice. It was a pain to clean up.

Marinette remembers the days when the mini cult would paint the city red with flowers and chaotic goodness. Or turning the entire city into a roller skate derby.

It’s a miracle that the cops never brought their parents into the investigation. Then again, with a child as pure as Marinette in the lead, people would fall over when they saw her smile.

Their significant achievement was when the school’s kitchen managed to catch on fire during a lunch period. During the evacuation, the group somehow managed to slip through the adults and back into the cafeteria.

Kim had brought marshmallows that day.

When the firefighters entered to put out the flames, the six children greeted them with wooden sticks eating s’mores and telling scary stories.

That fire had been their last valuable success because they experienced the worst nightmare a couple of days later, Damian had to go back to his home country.

It was heartbreaking for everyone within the cult but groundbreaking for the city.

Marinette fell into depression along with the others. After a month without Damian, they vowed to never speak of the best year of their life unless they were ever to meet Damian again.

It was no secret that Marinette had a crush on the foreign boy, so the cult disassembles along with any memories of Damian and the cult.

Years passed since that day.

Chloe took it upon herself to bully Marinette when they had entered college, as those who knew them in their younger days forgot that they were ever friends. Marinette took up fashion designing and making her seem like the perfect student. Nathaniel started working on comics based on their adventures. Nino stayed friends with all but Chloe and continued with his calling in music production. Kim began busying himself with sports, specifically swimming.

Soon the name that used to strike fear in the hearts of the Paris citizens began to fade away into a false memory.

Little did anyone know, the spirit of the Premier Chaotique cult lives on and would ignite in a blaze of fire.

At sixteen, Marinette works her butt off to make their end-of-the-school-year trip a reality.

The trip was not for the approval of her classmate, which has gone stale but for her sanity. Three years of being Ladybug have put a toll on her, and she plans to take advantage of the lack of akuma attacks going on.

When the acceptance letter landed in her hands, her parents swear they saw a boulder lifted off their daughter’s shoulders. She was smiling more and appeared less stressed than she had ever been since finding out the school board decided to move teachers with their students as a handful of teachers left Paris, some even left France altogether.

Her allies (remaining friends) were the first to know about the trip to Gotham, New Jersey, and they cheered happily for her. Lately, someone else has taken the credits for her work.

The day before the trip, Marinette rundown the patrol routes, and emergency protocols with Luka and Kagami, ensuring the safety of Paris if and when Hawkmoth decided to go active while the rest of the team was away.

She then goes on to convincing Kaalki to come with her to Gotham only to be used as an emergency. Marinette was ready to leave Paris and head to Gotham.

Upon entering the streets of Gotham, a cold chill runs down everyone’s spines aside from the former mini cult members. Too Mme. Bustier, the chill was all too familiar, bringing up memories of the kids that terrorized the streets before Hawkmoth. She looks around to see nothing out of place before promptly calling out her students so they would make it to the hotel.

Everyone who felt that chill had every right to be wary.

On the first day, everything seemed fine, but when you leave nearly all the members of Premier Chaotique alone for a moment, well, chaos was sure to happen.

Chloe and Marinette had put aside their differences during the Lila era of the classroom reign. Even after it was over, they managed to remain friends, rekindling the essence of primary friendship. The boys joined in on them not long afterward.

Plans were made but not yet enforced. It did not feel right, and they knew why– it was because they lacked their chief, the one and only Damian.

~☾★☽~

All Marinette wanted was a cup of coffee, but instead, she got something--someone much more pleasing.

Frozen in place, she calls out a single name, “Dames?” The dark-haired male turned around; she couldn’t breathe. Her eyes soften at the sight of her first crush. He hadn’t changed by much, though he was now taller than her.

“Mars?” That nickname sent the French-Asian teen running into the arms of the Ice Prince himself. Instead of pushing her away, he wraps his arms around her.  

Time froze in that café for several reasons, but the main one was definitely because they just witnessed Damian Wayne hugging someone willing.

Their embrace ends with them staring into each other’s eyes. It felt surreal. They couldn’t find the words to say, but they didn’t have to.

Life continues in the cafe as Damian leads Marinette away from the flashes of lights. It wasn’t long before Damian’s phone began to blow up with notifications. He turns his phone off and stuffs it back into his pocket.

With a mischievous glint in her eyes, Marinette pulls Damian in closer. Lifting herself onto her tip-toes, she whispers, “The others are here too.” into his ear. She steps away to see what she has unleashed, hoping that nearly a decade away from each other hasn’t altered their relationship.

This time it was Damian who smirks, bringing Marinette closer to him. “Mm, shall be bring Gotham to its knees?”

They share a smirk that ends with an explosion, thus, reigniting the Premier Chaotique cult with a burning passion for mayhem.

They decided to meet that night after hours.

Music blared in the streets of Gotham, seemingly close to the classroom’s hotel near Wayne Enterprise.

The members of Premier Chaotique strut down the middle of the streets in inflatable dinosaur suits dancing to the remixes that played from the boombox on one of the dino’s skateboards (Nino’s).  

Jamming to Bats @crazyforbats Did anyone else wake up to music and dancing dinos last night?

Bearbe @Bearbe Replying to @crazyforbats THAT WAS REAL!!??? I THOUGHT I WAS HULLACINATING

Krazie Kay @gokaykaer [A one-minute video with various strobe lighting colors flashing around and six dinosaurs doing the Cha-Cha-Slide] I swear I just saw @thebloodwayne for a split second.

Vera Pitts @vera_pitts [A short video of inflatable dinosaurs chaotically dancing to the Harlem Shake.] I thought this trend of over and done *crying emoji*

By the morning, Twitter was blowing up with various videos and gifs of the events that happened the night before. The only people who weren’t affected by the popularity were the people who were a part of it.

At Wayne Manor, Bruce could already feel a migraine coming as his two oldest play the videos repeatedly in the main room.

Damian scoffs at his family members, while Dick complains about why they haven’t thought of that for a family outing. It’s all about class, Dick; it’s all about class.  

Alfred, being all-knowing, takes notice of Damian's hidden smirks and recent purchase from his account at a party store. Nothing to worry about in this household. However, Damian asking him about where to find used pocket bikes (mini motorcycles) and wire rope reels was troubling.

The next night began the fears of every Parisian that experienced the reign. Blessed that it wasn't not happening in their city for once.

Per their plan assignments, Chloe and Kim found the buildings necessary for the zip line. Nino was in charge of setting up the equipment with the help of Nathaniel. Damian’s task was to get the bikes and zip line wire. Marinette’s job was to keep the class and others from finding out their plan.  

Once everything was ready, the Premier Chaotique entered their playground wearing hooded leotards (or bodysuits) with matching latex masks stretched over their eyes.

Kim went first down the zip line as Damian race down the streets on the bike. Initially, they were going to use the bikes, but the zip line couldn’t hold the weight of the bike and the person on it, so they turned it into a race instead. Of course, they put challenges throughout the route to make it more even.  

Their mayhem took a turn for the best when someone had called the cops, causing the for once silent night into a regular night of crime. Instead of stopping, like normal people, the mini cult went on a high-speed race against the GCPD.

Gotham’s Twitter users were having a blast with the events. It was the best and bravest thing to surface since Batman, though some were very vocal with their opposing thoughts.

The GCPD never caught the Premier Chaotique members, and they went on as if nothing happened.  

It was during the tour of Wayne Enterprise that the Premier Chaotique members learned Damian’s last name. He was an effing Wayne.

Marinette had asked Damian what his last name was when they were eight, and he replied nonchalantly with something along the lines of not being a Wayne until he was ten. Afterward, they continue hanging out and plotting throughout the tour.

After seeing their younger brother interact with teens his age, Dick specifically begs Bruce to invite the group while the rest stands there in shock. The sight of seeing Damian doing what they thought was impossible needed to go into the history books.

While it was a momentous occasion for Damian’s brothers, it was a reality check for Mme. Bustier. Her screams echo against the halls of WE as buried memories of the chaos awakens.

She stared pointedly at Marinette in denial. There was no way her star student was in the cult that did so much damage all those years ago. When Chloe, Nino, Kim, and quiet Nathaniel joined her, Caline started to feel faint. She immediately excused herself to call her therapist. Her wails for help could reach the lobby.

Bruce unknowingly invited even more chaos into his household that night.

It didn’t take Chloe and Marinette much to convince their teachers to let the five of them stay with Mr. Wayne for the night in hopes of “catching up” with Damian.

After getting the approval from Mr. Wayne and their parents, she agreed, secretly ecstatic that they wouldn’t be in her care for the next several hours.

~☾★☽~

“I’m bored. Let’s play a prank?” Kim randomly shouts, playing catch with himself, when they were all staring out the TV waiting for something good to come on.

“What do you have in mind?” Marinette asks, making her way over to Damian. He pushes her away, knowing that she’ll use him as a throne.

“Hey Dames, do you own go-carts are something of a familiar nature?”

Damian thinks about it for a minute, “Tt, father wouldn’t dare let those things in the house. We can prank my brothers. Scaring them would bring me joy.”

“Well I have a few ideas, we can use.” Chloe states, pulling out the book of mischief from her purse.

They all huddle over the book with smirks on their faces.

-----

A retouch version of Request #9.

[dessarious]

How the Sirens Adopted a Ladybug Pt6

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Ladybug continued to cling to Chloe and the other girl seemed both grateful and slightly panicked. “You’re welcome? It’s the least I could do after everything. If you give me a list, I can make sure it’s stocked with food for all the Kwami as well.”

“Here you go bee.”

“Plagg!” The Kwami had once again just appeared, this time with a piece of paper to shove at the girl.

“What? She asked!”

“If you don’t stop popping out like this, I’m going to renounce you. I have enough stress without wondering if you feel chatty at any given moment.” Ladybug had pulled back and began rubbing her forehead. Whether it was just annoyance or she had a headache was anyone’s guess. Chloe took the paper gingerly, eyeing the Kwami like he was going to explode. So apparently Ivy wasn’t the only one wary around the creatures.

“I’ll get everything this afternoon.” She was frowning at some of the items and Selina could relate. It was a very mixed bag. “Why does it say ‘no shellfish’ at the bottom?” Ladybug let out an aggravated sigh and pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Damnit Plagg, have you lost your mind?” The Kwami just ignored her.

“The kid has an allergy. Best to not chance it.”

“Huh, that’s weird. Marinette is allergic to shellfish too. Guess it’s more common than I thought.” Ladybug’s eye twitched and Selina could feel something poking at the back of her mind, trying to get her to focus on what was being said. Her thoughts felt oddly sluggish.

“Yeah, weird. How do you know Marinette is allergic?”

“I was the class rep before Marinette. Allergies were one of the big things to take into account when planning events. Not to mention my father has always stressed the need to know both your constituents and opponents. I have dossiers on everyone in the school.” Ladybug’s lips twitched upwards but didn’t quite make it to a smile.

“I’m more surprised by that than I should be. I assume that you’re the reason I haven’t seen Lila for the last few months?” Chloe winced and nodded.

“I’m sorry I didn’t do anything about her earlier.”

“The adults in charge should have done something, not you.”

“Maybe, but I could have stopped this and didn’t. Just like Adrien, I ignored her because she wasn’t my problem. Just like Adrien, I could never see past what I wanted when given the opportunity to wield a Miraculous. I… I never really understood why you hated me so much until I saw how Adrien acted after he lost his ring.”

“I never hated you Chloe, I just couldn't trust you. But at least with you I knew the risks. The others… I didn’t know until it was too late.” The last seemed directed at herself rather than Chloe. Selina was so busy trying to read Chloe’s body language that she didn’t notice Ladybug swaying until it was too late. Chloe caught her as she fell and they all watched as the hero detransformed. Selina ran towards them before she could think it through, and could hear the others behind her.

“Tikki, what happened?” Chloe was staring at the girl in shock, not even noticing their approach.

“The transformation was taking too much of her energy. I had to drop it before it harmed her irreversibly.” Both Tikki and Plagg were hovering over the girl. “She can not transform again until she’s recovered.”

“What do we do if there’s another Akuma? Hawkmoth hasn’t been letting up lately. It’s… it’s like he’s trying to cause this.” The last was said in an almost horrified whisper.

“That’s exactly what he’s doing. Unfortunately right now we’re more concerned with you knowing who she is.” Plagg had flown directly into Chloe’s face and was scowling at her. She just hugged the girl tighter.

“I won’t tell anyone. I meant what I said about helping her. Both of her.” Suddenly the pieces of their earlier conversation clicked together in Selina’s mind.

“Hang on, this is the girl you were talking about? The one who’s been missing?” That finally caused Chloe to look up at them.

“Who the hell are you?” She caught sight of Ivy and set the other girl down to step between them. “And what the hell are you?” Selina could admire her spirit at least. The girl didn’t stand a chance against them but it was apparent that she wasn’t backing down.

“We’re friends and we’re here to help.” She looked ready to argue but Tikki spoke up.

“They’re telling the truth. They’ve been nothing but supportive so far and if that changes, Plagg and I will handle it. Right now we need to get Mari back to your hotel so she can rest. Then we need to discuss what to do when an Akuma shows up while she’s still recuperating.” Chloe didn’t look happy with it but she did nod.

“I’m not entirely sure how to get us all in there undetected. I have a feeling you three don’t really want to be noticed and I certainly don’t want to cause a scene bringing Mari in like this. Bringing attention to ourselves will only cause problems.” Well she was certainly right about that. Selina shared a look with the other two but both just shrugged at her. Before she could suggest anything Tikki and Plagg started whispering together before Plagg flew back to Chloe.

“Can I trust you to use a Miraculous to get where you need to go and then give it back?”

“Yes, I’ll do whatever you need me to.” Plagg continued to study the girl but Tikki Flew into Marinette’s bag and returned with a pair of glasses. Chloe looked sad for a moment but her determination overrode it as Tikki started whispering in her ear. As soon as they finished Chloe put on the glasses and muttered something, causing another flash of light. When it faded Selina wasn’t sure what she was looking at. The outfit was definitely horse themed but at the same time she couldn’t really explain why it was. The suit was a deep reddish brown but everything else about it felt unsettling. Her hair was in a braid but seemed to be attached down her back because it didn’t move. The suit itself wasn’t skin tight but moved with her body as if it were. The longer Selina stared at it the more uncomfortable she felt. She blamed that for why she didn’t notice the swords crossed on the girls back until one was at her throat. “I’ll only give you one warning. Marinette has already been betrayed by everyone around her, minus her family, and I won’t hesitate to do what is necessary to keep you from doing the same.”

“Everyone including you?” Selina expected her to flinch but her gaze just hardened.

“Especially me. I tormented her and took advantage of her forgiveness more times than I can count. I know very well I do not have the moral high ground so don’t expect me to act like a hero.” Selina felt the blade make contact and couldn’t help the grin that appeared.

“Oh I like you. This should be fun.” Chloe slowly lowered the weapon. She tried to hide her confusion behind annoyance but Selina saw it before the girl turned to pick up Marinette. She heard Ivy suck in a sharp breath when a portal appeared out of nowhere.

“Well, are you coming or not?” She stepped through the opening without giving them time to respond. Selina debated for a fraction of a second before following, even as Ivy started cursing under her breath. The chances that Chloe would leave them behind if they weren’t fast enough were high, and she had a very bad feeling at the thought of being separated from Marinette. Her instincts had kept her alive this long, she wasn’t about to discount them now.

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Ko-Fi

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[consumeconstantly]

Speak My Name In Tongues

1| 2(you are here) | 3 | 4  

Summary: Bruce Wayne is determined to get his daughter to safety and aid (read: take over for) the Parisian heroes in capturing their supervillains of over six years. Unfortunately, these two goals are in direct conflict. (all of biodad bruce things can be read as stand alones but I do post in chronological order)

________________________________________________

Let it be said that Bruce Wayne is a persistent man. 

When he wants something, he does not stop on the first or second failed attempt. It doesn’t matter if the world believes something to be impossible. It doesn’t matter if he fails spectacularly to achieve his goal multiple times, in fashions that would likely result in any man of lesser wealth becoming the laughing stock of the global community for months. In order for him to cease his pursuit, he must come to the realization that whatever he’s pursuing is not worth the effort. This is a very rare occasion. Most times when Bruce comes to this conclusion, his decision can be traced back to the trauma of his parents death and the subsequent consequences of his vigilante life style (read: not pursuing Jason’s death, letting Barbara get shot.)

Thus, when Marinette turns down his offer of a safer life, he will not take her rejection at face value. A lesser man might. But Bruce is not any such thing.

Anything that Marinette is involved in-- and he finds that she does a lot-- all oh-so-coincidentally happen to be things that Wayne Enterprises invests in as well. He marks down each and every charity event and gala that she is scheduled to attend and makes an appearance there as well. When he finds that she supports all of her collége friends in their pursuits, he attends too.

Somehow, she manages to skillfully evade being drawn into any long conversation with him and always ensures that there’s a third person involved when he even says hello. If Bruce weren’t trying so hard to have a talk with her, he’d say that her ability to do so was really quite impressive and spoke to the reach of her network. But again, Bruce is trying to convince his daughter that he’s not safe in Paris by herself when the League most likely has a bounty on her head. If Talia finds out that he had a daughter not borne by her-- she’s certainly changed in recent years, becoming more volatile and much less like the woman he fell in love with all those years ago.

He half believes that with Marinette’s wit, intellect, and escape abilities, she may even be able to hold her own against the League. Unfortunate that the League has weapons training and she does not.

“Marinette,” Bruce approaches her at a Bourgeois evening party. She has friends in high places, that’s for certain. Chloe Bourgeois works at her company in the public relations department as does Adrien Agreste, which definitely turned a lot of heads in the fashion industry as nobody expected the boy to work for anybody but his father, nor did they expect him to stop his modelling career in the prime of his life. For modelling works, she turns to Juleka Couffaine and occasionally Olympic hopefuls Kagami Tsurugi, Alix Kubdel, Ondine and Kim Le Chien.  Thanks to her connections to Rose Lavillant, she’s produced an entire line of scents that go with MDC’s evening wear. MDC is extensively covered by Aurore Boreale, one of the youngest talk show hosts in the industry, Alya Cesaire, a young journalist who’s won international acclaim with her writing, and Nadja Chamack, a Senior Executive producer of TVi. Though Bruce is rather impartial to the music industry, she’s well known for working with international singers Jagged Stone, Clara Nightingale, and Luka Couffaine as well as an up and coming EDM artist named Nino Lahiffe. In the film sector, she works closely with Tom Astruc and Graham Industries, with Adrien’s cousin, Felix. 

As the saying goes, Who you know is everything.

Marinette smiles, teeth bared. Even the way she stands is sharp. 

It’s difficult reconciling the girl in front of him with the pictures he saw while doing background checks on her, or even the girl he saw at the bar just three nights ago. At least, it’s difficult for Bruce to reconcile her when she’s around him; Marinette seems to be very much the same girl around her friends, which is almost just as frightening. When she’s with Adrien or Alya of Kagami, it’s as if her parent’s death didn’t even happen. All smiles and sunshine and good will. She still attends all of the charity events she signed up for, has increased the amount of hours she spends volunteering at homeless shelters and akuma shelters-- and Bruce has no clue in hell how Paris’ supervillain situation has gone unchecked for so long, but he already has several agents tracking down Hawkmoth and the Miraculous team to no avail-- and goes to work on a normal schedule. Since Tom and Sabine’s death, she’s taken no time off. 

In the presence of Bruce Wayne, however, there’s a great shift in her demeanor. There is nothing warm about her, and despite the fact that Marinette is his daughter and that she’s more than a full foot shorter than him, he finds himself wary of her. That says something, considering the types of people he faces down as Batman near daily.

For the first time, she allows him to approach without dodging him. 

“M. Wayne.” Marinette begins to meander to a less public place, all while maintaining a pretty media smile and waving to acquaintances as she passes them. The moment the door closes behind him, a flip is switched. 

“Leave me alone,” she growls. “I don’t want or need your protection.”

“Your parents were murdered.”

“You don’t think I know that? I was the one who found their corpses.”

“They’ll come after you, next.” The League of Assassins never leaves their jobs half done. Marinette is more of an achilles heel than Tom and Sabine were-- despite not being in her life, he cares for her. He can’t deny that if she were murdered, he’d probably get caught up in a fit of rage. The Lazarus Pits have not been good for his mental state over the years.

Marinette crosses her arms, sleeves fluttering around her. “You think you know who did it.”

“I don’t think I know; I’m sure who did it.”

“No,” Marinette says in a strangely detached tone. “You think you know who did it. You don’t actually know, do you, Dark Knight?”

Bruce’s stomach fills with dread. Something about her statement makes him feel nauseous. Queasy, even. “I do. The League of Assassins--”

“You think everything revolves around you, don’t you? Bruce Wayne and Batman are not the only ones with enemies.”

“You’re suggesting that you have enemies who would be willing to kill your parents?” Bruce isn’t sure how to take this. Marinette does have a fairly large following, runs in the most powerful and influential Parisian circles, and has money to spare. But as far as his research told him, she didn’t do anything to egregiously offend anybody, besides maybe one Lila Rossi and Chloe Bourgeois, though the latter of the two rectified their relationship eventually. 

“I don’t,” Marinette denies. “But Ladybug does.”

“The superhero.” Is his age finally catching up to him?

“The superhero,” Marinette agrees, looking at Bruce contemplatively. 

“Ladybug and I-- we’re close,” Marinette settles on. “Close enough for our bakery to become a safe house of sorts for the Miraculous team. Hawkmoth--no, Pavona. She either acted out of anger for her past with me or just wanted to strike a blow at the Miraculous team.”

Bruce feels a migraine coming on. It’s on days like this when he wishes he were a drinking sort of man. “Why would Pavona be upset with you?”

Marinette laughs, humorlessly. “World’s greatest detective, huh? Maybe you’ll figure it out eventually.”

He gets the feeling that their conversation is quickly coming to a close, and figures that whatever issue Marinette and Pavona have is something he can decipher later, “It doesn’t seem like Pavona has done much with this information. The Miraculous Team seems to be in high spirits, and there haven’t been any akumatizations in the past two weeks.”

Another dry laugh. “Wrong move at the wrong time. And besides Ladybug and you, nobody else knows.”

Marinette pushes past him, back to the door, back to the party. She pauses at the door. “I’ll put the two of you in contact. Until then, keep a lid on you and your operative’s emotions. I’m sure trained agents like yourselves can restrain yourself from feeling anger or sorrow for a while.”

Bruce is left with two horrifying realizations: Marinette is in a situation where she’s in over her head, and Sabine and Tom’s deaths have not been publicized.

#

Batman and Bruce have never liked magic or metas, and Ladybug seems to be both. It doesn’t help that she’s so high strung and seems to be inexplicably angry at him from the moment that he steps foot at their prearranged meetup.

“I sent you the ground rules if you want to operate in Paris. Forward it to your operatives. Follow the rules or leave.”

“I’m here to take down Hawkmoth,” Batman says with a bone-weary tiredness. 

Ladybug crosses her arms in a fashion that’s achingly familiar. “I know that. That’s why I’m giving you and your people the ground rules and a chance. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be allowed here.”

“Ladybug, you and your team have failed to catch Hawkmoth for six years now.”

“You and your team have been fighting the same set of villains for over thirty years. I wonder which one of us is really worse off.”

Batman grimaces. 

The heroine looks out at the night sky and sighs. “Look, this is a very stressful situation. Pavona acted out in one of the worst ways possible, and even though she and Hawkmoth seem to be MIA, it’s still not ideal.”

He remembers that Marinette said Ladybug and her parents were close. Batman stumbles over his words. He’s never been the best at comforting people, and healthy coping mechanisms simply don’t run in the family. There’s definitely a reason why he and all of his children take to vigilantism so well. “Tom and Sabine-- they were great people.”

Ladybug stills. 

Batman doesn’t know how old she is, or how old any of the Miraculous team is, besides from Chloe Bourgeois, who used to be Queen Bee. Something in the way her shoulders hunch, how her jaw trembles, and eyes water makes Batman feel like she’s just a child. But she can’t be. Not if she’s been protecting a city for six years. If he had to guess her age, he’d put her in her mid to late twenties, maybe even early thirties. 

“They were the most loving people I’ve ever known,” Ladybug says. “It was a privilege to know them.”

He’s not sure who made the decision to not release Tom and Sabine’s death to the public, but Batman recognizes it as a tactical decision. It only took a short amount of time to hack into security cameras near Marinette’s residence and filter through the sighting of the Miraculous Team at Tom & Sabine’s Boulangerie, stopping to chat with Marinette or one of her parents, sometimes eating there, sometimes staying the night, using their living room as a gathering point. From there, it’s not difficult to realize that Marinette or Ladybug is keeping this information from the rest of their team in order to ensure that their civilian or superhero identities don’t get compromised by an akuma or a sentimonster.

In comparison to the Scarecrow, who makes his victims fight their worst fears, Batman can’t help but think that turning people into their insecurities and angers is worse. At least with Scarecrow, there’s a chance that people can win against whatever they’re fighting. Once a Parisian is turned into an akuma or sentimonster, they just have to hope that somebody else will come in and save the day. Victimhood with the cruelest twist, similar to when the Joker tried to make Dick into the Joker Jr.

“Pavona. What’s her deal with Marinette?” 

Ladybug’s laugh is hollow and familiar. “Didn’t Marinette tell you to figure it out on your own?”

“I need to know,” Batman insists. “I want to protect her. I don’t want her to get hurt like that again.”

“You have noble intentions, Batman,” Ladybug says quietly. “A kind heart. But you are mistaken in thinking that Pavona can hurt Marinette anymore. Even if Pavona tries to, she won’t be able to. Tom and Sabine-- they were the weak link. Everyone else she loves is safe.”

Ladybug pauses, looks sideways at Batman, then stares out at the Parisian skyline again. “Everyone except for you. You’re not safe, here in Paris. You know that, don’t you?”

“She--” his mouth dries. There’s a lot of information to process, but he focuses on one thing. “She loves me?”

He doesn’t think he’s heard those words come out of any of his kid’s mouths. He knows that all of them do love each other in their own messed up ways and knows that his sons and daughters are more likely to show their affection in actions instead of words, but Marinette is a biological child that he’s never interacted with before this month. How can she love him when all he’s done is push her away?

“She loves you.” Ladybug closes her eyes. “But that makes her a fool. She’s clung to the hope that she’d get to know you for years. Look where that’s gotten her. She gets to meet you at the price of her parents' lives. So please, don’t mess this up. The best way to protect her is by making sure that you’re safe. Really, I’d want you to leave Paris and forget about her. She’ll be okay. We’ll keep her safe.”

Batman says nothing for a time. Ladybug is right in thinking that Marinette shouldn’t love him, but she’s not right in her belief that she can protect her. After all, Tom and Sabine are still dead. “But I can make sure no one hurts her. I may not be someone she interacts with normally, but I can’t see her die.”

Ladybug makes a keening sound in the back of her throat. “I know, Batman. We’re not as trained as you and your team. I know you want to keep her safe. That’s why I’m letting you and your team help us. Because we’re just not enough.”

“You’ve done a lot to keep this city safe.” He wants to be mad at her for involving a civilian family, but he can’t find it in him. She seems so young. Does she have parents? Do her parents know that she’s Ladybug?

“But not enough.” She wanders to the edge of the building, yoyo in hand. “When this is all over-- maybe the two of you can spend some time getting to know each other.”

Batman stares at the spotted heroine. “Maybe someday.”

“That’s not very convincing.” Ladybug turns so that he can’t see her face. “Be kind to her. She’s alone.”

“She has you. She has your team.” Neither Bruce nor Batman has been very good at comfort during a time of loss. 

Ladybug fiddles with the chain around her neck. Two rings as a pendant. She clenches her fist around them and goes still for a moment. “We’re too similar to comfort each other. And we both agreed that telling the team… it would be disastrous. Tom and Sabine were parents to all of us. Pavona is scheduled to come back soon. If we tell them now, it might end in another mass akumatization. That’s something we have to avoid.”

Pavona is coming back? How did Ladybug even know that she left? How— 

Batman stills. The muggy Parisian warmth is only alleviated by a brief breeze that makes Ladybug’s hair ties fly in the wind. Anger wells up in the back of his throat, and he feels the Lazarus in him spike, knows that behind the white film of his cowl, his eyes are turning green. “You know who Pavona is. Why hasn’t she been brought in yet? Why—”

Ladybug could have prevented Tom and Sabine’s death. She could have saved Marinette the loss of her parents. 

Marinette could have retained her innocence. Been kept out of the world of superheroes and supervillains, been kept safely on the sidelines if only Ladybug weren’t so selfish, wasn’t so foolish to bring in a civilian family with no training and no background.

“Marinette and I have known for a long time,” Ladybug cuts him off, and he’s ready to put his hands to her throat, but no. Justice, not vengeance. He will make sure that Ladybug’s wrongdoings are brought to light. He will right her wrongs.  “For four years, it was Hawkmoth and Mayura. Once Pavona showed up, we thought-- we thought that between her and Hawkmoth that she’d be the lesser of the two evils. We had no clue who Hawkmoth was, but we knew that they were working together. Pavona was left free to roam in hope that she’d lead us to Hawkmoth. That we could finally end the fight.”

 Ladybug’s back straightens. She turns, and her eyes are all blue steel and pain. It’s then that Batman realizes that Ladybug truly did love Tom and Sabine with her whole heart.

“I see that I was wrong. Hawkmoth kills indiscriminately. But Pavona-- her grudges run deep. Mayura was the kindest of the three. The reason Pavona killed Tom and Sabine was petty.” Ladybug’s voice crumples, as do her legs. She hunches in on herself, hugging her knees. Batman watches on from a distance. 

What was it she said? That she and Marinette were too similar to comfort each other? One day, Batman may find himself furious at Ladybug for making the decisions she did. But right now, all he sees is a child. 

“I’m sure you’ve looked into Marinette’s past,” Ladybug starts. 

Batman makes a noise of affirmation, but she clearly wasn’t looking for permission to go on. She was trying to collect herself in order to tell a story.

“There was a transfer all the way back in collège. She was very popular amongst her classmates. Beautiful, well connected, charismatic. There was no way people wouldn’t love her.” 

Ladybug glances back at him. “Come, sit, Monsieur. I do not know you well, but I don’t bite.”

Bruce��� Bruce does not want to sit with her. But Batman says that he has to hear her out. To give her a chance, at least. Batman has made mistakes over the course of his career as well, his actions and inactions affecting too many for him to keep track of. He would be a hypocrite if he didn’t let Ladybug speak, even if Sabine and Marinette are two people he never would have dreamed of involving. Still, he keeps one hand firmly on a batarang. The videos shows that not much damage can be done to the superheroes when they’re suited up, save for attacks with magic, but nothing is absolute. There’s always a way to bring an opponent down. “Is it that shocking of a story?”

“No. Not at all. If anything, it’s a typical story of teenage drama, except perhaps a bit more than that. But I need the reassurance that you won’t run off once I finish.” She lets the two rings go, gentle thud of the two rings pressing against each other and her collar bone. The rings seem familiar. 

Batman sits, albeit warily and at least five feet away from his companion. Ladybug hasn’t proven untrustworthy so far, but she is still part meta and a magic user, from what he’s gathered. He wouldn’t put it past her or one of her team, particularly the one who creates illusions, to do something. He just doesn’t know what.

“This beautiful, charming classmate easily swayed Marinette’s class to her side.” Ladybug peeks at Batman through her bangs. “Understand that the classmates are children. Children in a class where power means that trouble and responsibility never stick. They learned that taking action meant you would be blamed.”

Batman wonders how Marinette and Ladybug met. Maybe it was through this very class she’s talking about now. If that’s true, it does not bode well for his perception of her.

“Marinette recognized this classmate for what she was. A liar. She promised all sorts of beautiful things-- things that played to their classmate’s biggest dreams. Working with their favorite artist. Meeting olympic athletes and musicians. Trips to impossible places. Perhaps if Marinette wans’t who she was, she would have believed her, too. But this classmate lied about two things Marinette knew were false. She lied about being a hero. She lied about me.”

“How do you and Marinette know each other?” It was incredibly difficult to find the video evidence of the Miraculous team going to Tom & Sabine’s Boulangerie. Batman had to call in a favor from Zatara and avoiding her questions as to why— he’d much preferred it if he were able to go through any normal channel instead. 

“We’ve known each other since the beginning.” Ladybug fiddles with her yoyo, refusing to look him in the eyes. “Marinette tried to get her friends to realize the truth. But everybody wanted what she was saying to be real. It’s hard to say otherwise when everything they ever wanted could be found in a single person. And Marinette didn’t pick the smartest ways to try to reveal her lies. 

“That beautiful, charming classmate didn’t like Marinette trying to debunk her entire persona. She grew to be very cunning. She hurt Marinette in so many ways. I lost track over how many times Marinette got suspended or temporarily expelled, only for her to be brought back at the behest of the one other person in her class who knew the truth. Her designs were stolen. The boy she loved grew into a shell in order to protect himself. Her friends drifted away-- not that they were cruel or anything,  they were taught inaction above all else, to not say a word about whatever happened in class ever since ecole-- but Marinette was really lonely. 

“It was sort of a blessing in disguise. During this time, a lot of the Miraculous Team went on a break of sorts, and it was only Chat Noir and I. We had to get stronger and smarter and Marinette and her family provided relief and moral support. If her friends were close to her during that time, things may have ended really badly. Hawkmoth may have caught on to more secret identities than he already knew.”

“Does Marinette know who you and Chat Noir are underneath the mask?” To put the weight of their alter egos on a civilian is cruel. It’s why his own was so closely guarded. He’s not a fan of Marinette knowing his existence as Bruce, let alone Ladybug. 

“The more people who know our identities, the greater a chance Hawkmoth has at taking our Miraculous.”

A non answer. Clever wording on Ladybug’s part. Although he can imagine Sabine agreeing to put up a bunch of teenage superheroes in her bakery, he knows that it’s impossible for anything to escape from her eyes for very long. He’d bet anything that she figured out the majority of the team’s identities. And by extension, anything that Sabien finds out, Marinette is bound to find out as well; her past indicates that she has an equal, if not higher level of intelligence and creativity that Sabine had.

Had. They went for so long without patching anything up. Why was he so foolish? So Hard headed? She offered him so many chances to reconnect, to connect with Marinette, to be a second father to her. She didn’t have any romantic feelings for him left, that much he knew, what with how utterly in love she was with Tom, and he was happy for her. Happy that she found somebody more stable than him. 

If he and Sabine were closer, could he have prevented their deaths? Would he have been clued into the situation of a magic supervillain in Paris sooner? 

He can’t be mad at Ladybug. Not when Batman, a hero with decades of experience on her, failed to step in. Refused to look old problems in the eye. Let loved ones die for his own inability to communicate. 

“For a while, Marinette didn’t fight back. She didn’t want the boy she loved, her best friend, to get in any more trouble than he already was, trying to protect her. She laid low. But the classmate was very interested in this boy as well. The classmate tried to break him to get him to love her.”

Ladybug smiles wryly. “You can imagine that was the end of her rope. Marinette thought that the only person the liar was targeting was herself. After three years of bearing the weight, she finally snapped. She started using the resources she had. And the wasn’t any grandiose thing, though in retrospect, perhaps it should have been. She wouldn’t have ended up in prison, no she’s too young, and one of the two main victims was under lock and key, and Marinette was never hurt to the point where the liar would face real consequences for her actions. All that happened was a restraining order and her removal from Marinette’s school.”

“The girl’s name is Lila Rossi. She was already a suspect for working with Hawkmoth at the time by helping him turn people into akumas. Then Mayura stopped showing up and Pavona took her place. Pavona was clearly targeting everything and anything near Marinette. I should have seen the signs, but I had years of experience on her, and the Miraculous Cure--” Ladybug breaks off. “From one point of view, even Hawkmoth is better than her, because at least he didn’t cause any irreversible deaths.”

The Miraculous Cure is cruel. It only reverses the damage done with a Miraculous or while Ladybug is transformed. When Tom and Sabine were murdered, Pavona and the Peacock Miraculous were nowhere in sight.

Batman can’t say whether Pavona is better or worse than Hawkmoth. But Lila Rossi-- he recognizes the name. He knows what she looks like, since her image came up when he was doing a background check on Marinette. It’s quite possible that she has some type of mental disorder. Now is not the time to think about that. Hawkmoth’s identity needs to be revealed, and quickly. “How did you connect the two with the magic protecting your identities?”

“I used a little magic of my own.”

Beneath them, more and more lights begin to flicker out. Even though Paris is nicknamed the City of Lights, due to the extensive drain on energy, shops are required to turn off their exterior lighting after 1AM. 

“Please,” Ladybug says. “Please help me find Hawkmoth. Please help me put them in prison. I-- I’ve been fighting for so long, and it was a duty I didn’t even want for the longest time. I just want all of this to be over. I want to be able to scream and cry and mourn without Hawkmoth and Pavona trying to manipulate me. Please.”

Batman has never been one for physical affection, but he pats Ladybug awkwardly on her back. She launches herself into his arms, curling into him and sobs as he awkwardly rubs her back. He keeps his eyes trained at a distance, watching for any akumas or amoks.  

“Please,” she warbles, eyes watery. “Be good to Marinette. Be a good father. Be someone for her to lean on.”

His muscles tighten. He’s never claimed to be a good father, let alone a good man. He tries to do right, but Marinette is different from all of the other kids he’s taken in over the years. She’s not from Gotham. She had parents who were kind and stable and normal. He doesn’t think he can be a good father to her.

Somehow, Ladybug guesses exactly what he’s thinking. “You just have to be yourself. It may be stupid and foolish, but she loves you. She really does.”

For a long time, the two of them stay on that roof, Ladybug buried in the crook of Batman’s arm.

_____________________________________________________

@biodad-bruce-month

Maribat tag list(to be added onto this pls send me an ask/dm): @our-precipreciousss @my-dear-friend-anxiety 

Who Are You (and what will you become) tag list (to be added here just comment): @anjuschiffer @theunquiet-dead @certainmuffinbagelcalzone @cresentmo0n @allulily @myazael @zalladane @rebecarojas07 @keepingupwiththemalfoys @frieddonutsweets @all-mights-asscheeks @thornalchemist23 @trippingovermyfeet @jiso-lee @redscarlet95 @ira-sairain @screechingflapbiscuitpeach @ramos123 @cutechip

also if i missed you please just lmk in the appropriate place again! and is it a me thing or a tumblr thing that some of these tags just wont WORK AUGH. thank you all for the support on the fics i’ve posted so far! i’m quite bad at posting regularly because all sense of time has been stripped away

hahahaha consistent chapter length? what’s that? (jokes on you these aren’t chapters just loosely related chronologically told one shots. what even makes a cohesive story a story)

[straightlikewetspaghetti]

Rancho Love

Pairings:

Main: Poppy x MC (Bea Hughes)

Secondary: Chloe x Veronica, Zoey x ??

Warnings: none

Love is a strong feeling, a bond, an interpersonal relationship that is difficult to clearly define and explain.

Hate is sometimes contrasted with love and described as an agonizing feeling, resulting from pain associated with feelings of hurt, revenge, hostility and deception.

It’s funny how thin line separates these two feelings...

At the beginning of the vacations, Bea went to her grandmother's ranch to prepare it for the arrival of unexpected guests. Today was the day of their arrival and the brunette sat on the porch, nervously shaking her leg.

It wasn't long before a black SUV belonging to her best friend pulled onto her property. In a flash, Zoey jumped out of it and locked Bea in a firm hug, even though it hadn't been that long since they last met.

Out of the corner of her eye, the brunette noticed Veronica and Chloe standing behind the black-haired girl. Bea and Veronica exchanged knowing glances, sparing each other unnecessary closeness, unlike Chloe, who had been acting like an overexcited puppy ever since she and Veronica got together. The blonde threw herself at Bea with a squeal and hugged her with a strength she would never have suspected. Despite the odds, it was a pleasant feeling.

When she released herself from the hug, she knew someone was missing. She glanced at Zoey, who only sighed. Bea took note of the dark circles under her eyes and obvious fatigue that was showing on her friend's face, which could mean that the princess had given her quite a hard time during the trip. "And what is the name of this little cutie." Chloe dropped to her knees and began exaggeratedly petting the overjoyed dog that magically appeared next to the brunette.

"Drake."

"Like the rapper?" the puzzled blonde asked.

"Never change, Chlo" Veronica laughed placing a soft kiss on Chloe's head.

"No, like a dragon, because his breath is murderous." the brunette playfully snapped her mouth and put emphasis on the last word as if she were talking to a small child.

The girls laughed and all the tension that was hiding inside Bea dissipated like a bad weather. She had forgotten that without Poppy, Chloe and Veronica were actually very bearable.

"How can you expect me to function under such conditions?" speaking of the devil, a clear high-pitched squeak pierced the silence of the ranch, causing even nearby grazing Sheridan to lay his ears down. Bea's head twitched involuntarily, a tic she had developed at the sound of that particular tone of voice. "Zoey! Come here!"

The girl looked pleadingly at Bea and mouthed silently "Help me." The brunette smiled in understanding and headed towards the car Poppy was standing by. Bea approached quietly, causing the preoccupied blonde to not even notice her. She took advantage of the peaceful moment to take a closer look at her.

Poppy was rummaging through the trunk, probably looking for something. Bea couldn't help but notice the way the girl's jeans perfectly framed her well-defined curves. In an instant, memories of that one night when Poppy had proved to her that she had to dominate on every level, began to flow into her head.

The girl standing before her was the picture of perfection. Her silky blonde hair was tied up in a heavy knot, revealing a slender neck that Bea loved to tease. Her entire outfit perfectly exemplified her sense of style and elegance, which she always groomed to a fault. Against the landscape of the countryside she stood out like a sore thumb.

"Do you want to go to the bathroom or do you always have such an idiotic expression on your face?" the malicious comment from Poppy snapped her out of her reverie and worked on her like a bucket of cold water.

"It's good to see you too Pops." she said in a calm voice, as if she hadn't literally fantasized about the girl standing in front of her a moment ago.

Poppy turned her head towards her and smiled flirtatiously, though Bea knew that smile hid disdain and annoyance. "I didn't feel the need to lie." she shrugged and went back to her previous activity.

Bea laughed under her breath and nodded. The audacity of this girl will be the death of her. "How can I help you?"

"You finally offered? What a wonderful woman you are!" Poppy sneered, placing an amount of baggage in Bea's hands that nearly knocked the brunette to the ground. "Jesus Christ Poppy, you came here for a month, not a lifetime!" Bea's voice was barely audible over the amount of suitcases crushing her person. Trying to take in the situation, her muscles tensed visibly and out of the corner of her eye she noticed a familiar glint in the blonde's eye. Poppy giggled innocently, but her gaze was wary and sharp. She scrutinized Bea from head to toe and a mischievous smile appeared on her face. "You wouldn't handle me, Farmsville." "Is that a challenge?" Bea stood sideways and tensed as much as possible to dominate the blonde with her stature. A shiver of indefinable fascination ran through her veins at the thought of competition.

Poppy just rolled her eyes, but as she walked away, she ran her fingertips gently, almost imperceptibly, over the brunette's shoulder, which, along with the amount of baggage, made Bea's legs buckle more and more. With an idiotic grin on her face, the brunette watched Poppy's hips move mesmerizingly. In any normal situation she would have thrown her luggage and pounced on the blonde like a predator, but somewhere in the back of her mind she remembered that the girl was a first class manipulator. Only around Poppy did Bea feel that showing any emotion besides lust was a weakness. Their game of hot’n’cold had gone on for so long that Bea's feelings were lost as she herself was. And even after so long of their physical closeness, they hated each other to the marrow of their bones. Poppy Min Sinclair was one big game Bea felt she was losing. After less than an hour, each of the girls was put in their own rooms and once again they all met on the porch to come up with some common activity, much to Poppy's displeasure. "Howdy ladies! You are a blessing to the sore eyes of a man." Their conversation was interrupted by a low male voice and the clatter of hooves. They all fell silent and looked at the intruder, who was watching them from the back of his powerful steed with an all too friendly smile. Bea was the only one who reciprocated the smile and ran up to him with Drake faithfully at her side.

"Alex you corny chum! I didn't even know you were around." excited Bea waited patiently until the boy slid off his horse and embraced her tightly and a little too long, which didn't escape the girls attention, especially the peculiar blonde. The brunette pulled away from her friend and looked at the slightly amused girls "Ah, but where my manners are!"

"They don't exist." muttered the bored blonde, eyeing her manicure carefully, not even lifting her eyes to the brunette

Bea just rolled her eyes, but didn't let Poppy's grumpiness ruin the moment for her. "Girls, this is Alex, Alex this is Zoey, Veronica, Chloe and Satan, I mean..." she took a dramatic pause to make sure the blonde was paying attention. "Poppy." "The best thing for last." Poppy's voice was low, much lower than her typical squeak.

Bea sensed what was going on and stood between Alex and the blonde, creating a safe space. She looked at Poppy with a scolding look, but the corners of the girl's mouth were only twisted in a minimal mischievous grin that no one else noticed. "Keep it in your pants, Sinclair." Zoey spoke up with disdain as she observed the blonde's pathetic behavior. Alex, hearing this, laughed sincerely and then smiled coquettishly at Zoey. When she looked at him, he squatted closer to her, causing an outline of a blush to appear on her cheeks. She returned the smile. “Can we like, not fight for a sec?” Chloe shy and concerned voice broke through the tension. Veronica stood behind her, proudly holding her around the waist and measuring Poppy with a cautious, almost warning look. Poppy rolled her eyes and scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest, but remained silent. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Chloe smiling in her direction and even her emotionless facade couldn't ignore the smaller blonde puppy eyes. She felt weird, fuzzy feeling inside. "What brings you here pal?" Bea finally spoke up when the situation had calmed down somewhat and nobody was threatening to jump down each other throats. The boy tore his gaze away from a still blushing Zoey and looked at the brunette as if he had only now discovered that he had actually come to her with a reason. "Yeah, right..." he laughed nervously scratching the back of his neck and reluctantly stepping away from the black-haired girl. "Judy asked me to bring Spot." he pointed to a black and white mare that was nibbling the grass, looking with interest at Sheridan, who was grazing nearby.

"Even nana knew you were here and she didn't tell me?" Bea didn't hide her surprise at Alex's words.

"What a wonderful friend you are." sneered the blonde under her breath.

Alex chuckled, but stopped immediately when Bea flashed him a menacing stare. "Look, I wanted to use the element of surprise." "Of course." the brunette sighed. "While you're here, why don't we give the girls a tour of the ranch?" Bea looked smugly in Zoey's direction and Alex immediately caught what she meant.

"There's no way my foot is going to get anywhere near these... Stinky animals." Poppy wrinkled her nose with visible disgust on her face.

"I'm pretty sure they don't want it as much as you do." Zoey retorted, earning a nudge in the shoulder from Chloe. "All right..." Bea pushed Alex, Zoey, Chloe and Veronica towards the stables. "Go on now, and we'll join you in a moment."

It couldn't be without a mischievous smirk from the boy, but he didn't say a thing. Obediently he began to head towards the stables with the rest of them, Zoey noticeably walking closest to him. Bea lifted her eyes up and counted down to ten in her head to calm herself down. If it wasn't for Poppy's parents' pleading, she would never have agreed to her coming here, but somewhere deep down she hoped the blonde wouldn't be so problematic. She began to wonder for whom this was the bigger punishment.

She turned on her heel to say something to Poppy, but her voice froze in her throat when she saw, one of the most adorable scenes of her life: Poppy was kneeling beside Drake and vigorously scratching his stomach. Her voice was soft and gentle as she whispered sweet nothings to him.

Despite herself, the brunette smiled softly, remembering that even such a cold person had a weakness for dogs.

"I should charge you for looking." Poppy didn't look away from Drake, but Bea saw the gentle smile dedicated to her and not the dog. "I like this side of you." she began, slowly walking toward her. "The gentle and happy one. Why are you forcefully trying to make our lives difficult?"

Poppy's hand hovered over Drake's stomach and there was a heavy silence. Bea gulped nervously, expecting an outburst from the blonde that never came. Instead, Poppy rose from her knees and looked blankly in her direction. "There is no such a thing." her voice sounded incredibly flat, which was much more threatening than her typical screech. "I didn't ask to be here." she put her arms around her waist and turned dramatically to her side. For the first time Bea saw the real Poppy, the one she tries to hide under her harsh persona. She looked extremely lost and hurt, but the brunette couldn't be sure without knowing what was hiding in her head. And for the first time Bea wanted to know what the girl standing in front of her was thinking and feeling. And it was terrifying.

"You wouldn't have to be here if you weren't trying to act like a brat." it wasn't the most pleasant thing she could answer, but it didn't miss the truth.

"Trying?" Poppy looked at her with rising curiosity. "By what do you assume that I'm trying and I'm not like that?" she asked without waiting for an answer. "Since when do you know anything about me, other than the size of my underwear?" As much as she hated to admit it, Poppy had a point. She couldn't be sure which one was the real one, but she tried to go on. "Because you sound like a coward. And I know..."

"You know nothing about me." she snapped, unable to listen to the cruel truth.

"And I know..." Bea continued ignoring her and coming face to face with the blonde, who now seemed much, much smaller and dimmer. "That somewhere deep down, there is a real Poppy that I could..." fall for. The brunette didn't finish that sentence, again settling an awkward silence between them.

Poppy looked straight into her eyes, probably searching for something there. After a moment, she lowered her gaze and trembled. She sighed quietly and carefully grasped the brunette's hand. "Focus on the me you see there..." she pressed it to her chest, where her heart was pounding like a herd of galloping horses. "Because she's focusing on you too." Before she could answer anything, Alex's voice rang out: "Are you slowpokes gonna finally come here?"

"We're coming!" replied Bea, tilting her head toward him but not taking her eyes off the blonde. She felt Poppy withdraw her hand from her in a flash and put her typical look of annoyance on her face.

"You don't have to miss me like that!" The blonde almost purred those words and walked towards the stables, leaving an even more confused Bea alone.

[ultimatetornshipper]

Daminette December Day 5

@daminette-december2019-2020

I can’t believe I’m doing this oms, Sweaters didn’t exist okay? I had no choice!! lmaooo no regrets tho, I’m loving where this fic is going. 

Anyway thank you for everyone who left such lovely comments on the previous chapter I literally almost cried thank you!!

Princes and Pedestals

Chapter 5 – Sweater

Previous

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“Oh I can’t wait to show you the stables, we each have our own horse. I named mine Lavender, since my favorite color is purple. Cass's is named Rose, Dick's is Robin, Damian’s is Ace, Tim named his Cloud and Jason...,” Stephanie stopped walking and released Marinette’s hand, turning around, she sighed, “Well, you should know, Jason was ten when he got his and the horse had been sick and well... it resulted in him naming the poor animal Sweater. He refuses to change it,”

Marinette laughed at Stephanie’s clear annoyance with this fact. She’d come to her room this morning and simply insisted that she show her the stables before negotiations regarding their alliance took place. Marinette had agreed, she was coming to quite like this girl and her energetic nature.

Stephanie kept walking, this time at a slower pace, she lead Marinette out of the castle and greeted the gardeners. The servants they passed greeted her back and smiled widely, everyone was clearly fond of her. Marinette couldn’t blame them, Stephanie’s energy was contagious.

“You’ll probably get your own one-,” she started, before interrupting herself, eyes widening, she laughed nervously, “I mean if you stay long enough you’ll practically be family so I wouldn’t be surprised, if you got one, that is,”

Marinette thought her behavior was strange but she’d found that questioning Stephanie’s actions only led to more questions.

“Hey Steph, wait up!” someone yelled. Marinette turned towards the voice, seeing Prince Richard approaching them. He was the only brother at the summer castle she hadn’t informally met yet.

When he caught up to them, he nodded his head to her, “Your Majesty,”

She returned the gesture, smiling, “Your Highness, feel free to call me Marinette,”

She saw approval flicker across his eyes, he smiled back, “As long as you agree to call me Dick. Where are you two ladies going this fine morning?”

Stephanie rolled her eyes at him and started walking again, “Calm down, worry wart, I’m just taking her to the stables. Wanna join us?”

“I’d love to,” Dick replied, walking along with her and Stephanie. He looked towards Marinette, “She tell you about their names yet?”

She nodded slowly, “Yeah, she did. Do you mind me asking why you named yours Robin?”

“Robin was my mother’s nickname,” he said, a sad smile on his face, he shrugged, “I guess when I first got here I just wanted something to remind me of her, naming my horse after her... it helped ease my grief,”

Marinette felt as though a knife was being twisted in her heart, the black dress she wore suddenly heavier than usual. It was then that she realized that she only had two days left before her mourning period was officially over. Two days before a year was over since it had happened.

She realized they were both looking at her, she needed to respond. She looked up and smiled at him, nodding, “I can understand that,”

Stephanie touched her shoulder and looked her in the eye, “I-,”

Marinette gave her a meaningful look and shook her head. Stephanie searched her gaze for a few seconds before she nodded solemnly and opened the door they’d stopped in front of. She walked through and started pointing out which horse was which.

The atmosphere was heavier than it had been, but as they progressed it seemed to lift. Marinette zoned them out slightly, making all the right faces and noises. She wouldn’t be surprised if they knew she was faking it, given their demonstrated ability to read people, but she couldn’t bring herself to care in the moment.

She thought back. There really only was two days left. A year ago today they’d been laughing, playing card games and pretending that everything was alright. They'd known the end was near and wanted the last few days of his life to be happy.

Outside his room the atmosphere had been sad, Rose was crying while Juleka softly scratched her back. Nino had been torn apart, clutching on to Alya's hand for dear life, the red head trying to console him. And Marinette... Marinette had held herself together. She held all of them together.

And when he finally faded, she’d made herself go numb, but people looked at her like she was seconds away from falling apart anyway. And maybe she was.

She hadn’t been able to take it, though. She’d disappeared for a week under the guise of going on a mission. She went to their base near the north western shore and there she cried more than she thought anyone should be able to. Chloe and Luka had kept everyone away at her request and she’d screamed and mourned and grieved. But after that week she didn’t shed a single tear again.

She returned and refused to speak about what she’d done during her week or where she’d gone. She’d comforted everyone else and after a few days they stopped asking questions. She’d organized his funeral and worn her black dresses.

And she’d been wearing them ever since, they were the only outward sign that anything was possibly wrong.

She never spoke of it. But she only had two days left. Tomorrow a year ago he died. And she had no idea how she was going to make it out alive.

After half an hour in the stables listening to Stephanie and Dick's stories they made their way inside and had breakfast before she met up with Master Fu to finalize their thoughts and preparations for the negotiations of the alliance.

She sat next to him on one of the many benches in the castle hall. After a few seconds, she broke the silence, “He’s my match,”

Master Fu nodded slowly, “I sensed it too, you have the ring then?”

She nodded and removed said object from one of the many pockets in her gown. She curled her fist tightly around it.

“I assume you wish to offer him the position?” he said, still only staring straight ahead.

“Yes,” she replied, her heart heavy, responsibility weighing her down.

“I trust you, Guardian,” he said, pausing, he looked at her, “I am proud of who you’ve become Marinette,”

The words meant more to her than she wanted them to, she didn’t want to care what he thought. It was because of him that the ring had been given to the wrong person in the first place. He hadn’t even told them when he’d realized and it lead to the boy she’d loved’s death.

They reviewed the terms of the alliance and headed over to the room where negotiations would take place.

When she entered everyone inside stood, proper greetings were exchanged and everyone sat. The king and all the children she’d met were sitting on one side of the table, she and Master Fu sat down on the other side.

The atmosphere was different here. Stephanie smiled at her but it didn’t really reach her eyes. They had something on the line, Marinette was itching to know what.

Had she been wrong in thinking they didn’t need this alliance as much as she and her court did?

They discussed the terms and though a few compromises were made, it all went over rather smoothly. She and King Bruce did most of the talking while the others rarely spoke.

“Right, now that we have most of the details sorted out, we have a proposal for the type of alliance we wish to establish,” King Bruce said, she noticed all the siblings tense, Damian's destruction and chaos spiked. That was strange, did they know something of this proposal?

“Yes?” she replied warily, all eyes were on her, but she kept her gaze locked on the King.

“I propose we strengthen this alliance with a marriage, between you and my son,” he said simply.

The room held its breath. She saw Fu move, about to reply but she held her hand up to stop him. She was intrigued by his offer, and if could easily work out in her favor if she played her cards right.

She held the King’s gaze, she had a feeling she already knew the answer but she asked anyway, “Which one?”

“Damian, my youngest,” he replied immediately. She’d been right, this would make her life much easier. It also showed her that, for some reason, they needed this alliance too.

She looked at where the siblings were sitting, they were all staring at her, clearly trying to gouge her reaction. But she kept her face perfectly blank.

Then she made the mistake of meeting his gaze. The green eyes flung her back in time and for a second she felt the façade slip.

Live for both of us, m’lady. The words rung through her ears. The words had been haunting her for almost a year. One of the last things he had said to her, a different kind of desperation in his eyes, he wanted her to move on, to be happy, to live.

She quickly snapped back to reality and put back her mask, but they’d seen it, the dent in her armor. Their reactions were varying levels of confusion, curiosity and understanding.

She turned to the King, “I have one condition,”

The entire room tensed again, even Fu didn’t know what she was going to say, but she didn’t let it stop her.  

“Which would be?” he replied, he was intrigued, but wary of what she’d said. That was good, she had his attention.  She just needed to phrase her words right, she needed to give Damian a choice in this too, somehow.

“Anyone I marry needs to be able to rule alongside me. In order to do that, he needs to wield a miraculous, but it can’t be just any miraculous. He needs to be able to accept the responsibility of wielding the Black Cat miraculous,” she put it down on the table and their eyes jumped back and forth between her and the ring.

She turned to Damian and fisted her dress in her hand when his eyes met hers, she needed to explain further, she needed to speak, she could freak out later, “I’ll give you a day to consider my condition, in that time I’ll entrust you with the miraculous, you can get to know Plagg, the miraculous’s kwami,” he nodded. She stood and pushed the ring forward so that he could take it.

“Does this mean you accept?” Dick asked, eyes now fully focused on her, the tension still there.

“If Damian accepts my condition, then yes, I accept,” she said simply, hoping that would ease his worry.

It didn’t. He stayed tense, his siblings all in similar conditions as the silence stretched after his words. Marinette looked over them, what could be worrying them so much?

“Um... Marinette, I – we,” Stephanie said hesitantly, gesturing to her and her siblings, “We were wondering if you'd be able to stay in Gotham instead of him moving to – well we know you lead the whole Order and everything but we don’t want to lose him, you know. And I know it’s a lot to ask but...,” she looked at Marinette, and she could see her desperation. So that’s what it was. They didn’t want to loose Damian.

She considered her options. She liked these people, and it wasn’t like she ruled a country, she wasn’t tied down to one place. It wasn’t like them and Gotham where they had to stay in the country.

All she’d have to do is move home base to Gotham and have her court travel and live here, she wanted to be near them. She also wanted to find a place as close to the Castle as possible, but it wouldn’t be hard considering Damian would be her husband.

She pushed the association she’d once had with the word away.

Maybe it would do them all good to move on. To make new memories in a new place. It would certainly do her good not to be somewhere she had made memories with him.

She turned her focus to the siblings. She was pretty sure Cassandra was holding Damian’s arm under the table, Damian was toying with the ring, but his face was resigned. Jason was staring at her as though through willpower alone he could convince her to let Damian stay with them. Dick and Stephanie both looked hopeful and desperate. The King had a blank look on his face but she had no doubt that he, too, was on the edge of his seat.

She met Stephanie’s gaze and gave her a soft smile, “Sure,”

“Sure? What do you mean? Like sure he can – you two- you'll both stay with us like at home?” Jason said, already standing, hands on the table. The others stared at her in varying degrees of surprise and shock. Cass was smiling at her.

She nodded, “I just need to move my Court's home base to Gotham. If he accepts the ring and its responsibilities, I’d be willing to have them move here too,”

Steph stood and ran around the table, grabbing her in a tight hug, “ Thank you,” she said softly.

Marinette felt her heart warm at how much they cared. Damian was staring at her in shock, his mouth slightly hanging open. Dick had a huge smile and Bruce was looking apologetic for Stephanie’s actions.

Marinette looked at this family of people, who she doubted would be related in most situations, and how well they fit.

She watched as Jason squeezed Damian’s shoulder and Dick hugged him from behind. Cass ran a hand softly through his hair and said something to him that made him smile.

She felt her heart long for that kind of familiarity. 

Stephanie pulled back from the hug but held on to her arm. The blonde smiled at her fondly, and Marinette suddenly had a feeling that maybe, it was only a matter of time before she’d have it.

Taglist:

@animegirlweeb @loysydark @toodaloo-kangaroo @forgottenfriends @wolf-for-life @heyitsbugette 

[kalaluchi]

chapter 03: Game Night

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Marinette found that she could say no to a lot of things.

She could say no to Chloe’s attempts to give her a makeover, she could say no to Kim’s challenges to a 50-meter freestyle race, she could say no to Nino’s invites to a movie screening with a bunch of friends. (Especially on a school night. Waaaay too much work to be done, sadly.)

And usually, usually, she could say no to her best friend Alya’s elaborate schemes.

But apparently not when it was disguised as a harmless game night with some of their classmates.

And definitely not when her best friend got her super ultra crush, the gorgeous Adrien Agreste, to be the one to invite her.

“Hey, Marinette,” he said, walking up to her one day. “I heard from Nino that Alya’s planning a game night this weekend. A sort of class bonding activity, I’m guessing. Seeing as you’re Alya’s best friend, I take it that means you’ll be there, right?”

Marinette suddenly wanted to strangle said best friend. Alya most definitely did not say anything about a game night the last time they talked. This invitation reeked of “Alya Césaire’s Half-Brilliant Plan #143” or whatever the brunette liked to call them. Marinette was fairly sure her best friend would try to pull something to get her and Adrien together.

(Not that she was complaining. She appreciated it, of course, but one still had to be wary when dealing with the great fairy godmother Alya Césaire.)

But more importantly-- how dare Alya not warn her that Adrien would talk to her that day. Then Marinette could’ve at least worn the new top Alya had said looked cute on her.

“Uh,” Marinette hedged, trying to come up with a reasonable excuse to avoid all embarrassment , “I’m actually not sure if I can be there since I have… things… to do. I also have...stuff.” She gulped. “Yup, that’s… that’s what keeps me busy… things and...stuff.” She smacked herself internally.

“Oh, that’s too bad. I was looking forward to seeing you there. I heard you’re a master at board games.” He chuckled, and, no, Marinette’s heart did not flutter and her cheeks didn’t burn at the sound. “But I get what you mean about… things… and stuff. Life of the busy, eh? Try to take breaks when you work, though, ‘kay? Good luck with… things and stuff. Uhm, see you around, Marinette!”

Marinette forced a smile as he turned away. Don’t cave, it’s for your own good, don’t cave, don’t cave, don’t--

“But!” Marinette added suddenly, causing Adrien to turn back in surprise. “If that’s the case, I mean, psh, what’s one weekend, right? I could… probably push my schedule back a bit, have some fun for once. I think I deserve this,” she said firmly, talking mostly to herself.

Adrien grinned, and her heart skipped a beat at the way his eyes shone with excitement. “That’s good to hear! I agree, you deserve this break. See you Saturday night, then!”

With that he walked away, leaving Marinette imagining that he’d said those words in the context of a romantic first date, perhaps a candle lit dinner after a cheesy film, and not in the context of a seemingly harmless game night where she was almost sure her luck would abandon her only for the fates would laugh in her face.

.

.

.

Alya told everyone the game night would start at 8pm. Naturally, this meant Marinette had to be at Alya’s place at 7:30pm, helping set up.

“So, what game are we playing,” Marinette asked, trying for a nonchalant tone as she opened a bag of chips.

Alya laughed aloud. “Ha! Nice try, Mari. But no spoilers. You’ll find out at the same time as everyone else. Now can you pass me those vases? I’m betting Kim’s gonna knock them over if we don’t put them away.”

Marinette handed them over with a sigh. “Okay, that’s fair. But I already know you’re up to something. Isn’t it just easier to tell me your plan so I can mentally prepare for it? Who knows, I might even choose to play along.”

“Plan…? I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.” Alya turned away, but not before Marinette caught the mischievous gleam in her best friend’s eyes.

She was about to press further, when there was a knock on the door. “Yo, Alya!” Nino’s voice. “Open up, will ya?”

“Coming!” Alya shouted back, carefully stepping around the pillows she’d set up on the floor. Just like that, the matter was dropped as the guests started pouring in.

There were about 10 of them, all talking lively as they sat on the floor around a table. Marinette started passing around bowls of chips while her best friend got the stuff for the games from her room. She tried to hold on to one last bowl though, eyeing the pillow-seats at the far end of the room and trying to come up with an excuse to go over there and hand Adrien the bowl herself.

She was halfway there when Alya suddenly appeared. “Esteemed guests!” she announced in a loud voice. “I have, behind my back, the game we will play tonight. We’ll be playing--” She paused for dramatic effect, making sure everyone’s eyes were on her. “-- the Modified Game of Life, aka Game of Life: Alya Césaire edition!”

Marinette inwardly groaned, her own plan forgotten. Handing the bowl of chips to a seated Juleka, she made her way to a pair of empty seats in one part of the room -- one for her, one for Alya of course. Despite her initial want to approach Adrien that night, a part of her told her she should be grateful she wasn’t seated next to him.

“Alright, everyone, settle down!” Alya said, obviously excited to be facilitating. She took her place next to Marinette and grinned. She moved to open the box… and paused. And looked around the room as if deep in thought. “Actually,” she said, “I kind of want to sit beside my boyfriend.”

Marinette’s eyes widened, knowing where this was going. “Alya,” she hissed, “don’t you dare--”

“Adrien!” the brunette called across the room. “I was wondering if I could sit beside Nino, but I don’t want everyone to move one seat up just for me. Is it ok with you if we switch places?”

“Sure,” the blond said easily, getting up.

All Marinette could do was open and close her mouth as her best friend gave her a wink and a squeeze of the hand. “Good luck!”

Luck? Why would Marinette need luck?

“Hey,” Adrien greeted as he sat down beside her. “You ever played this game before?”

“No,” Marinette said through gritted teeth, “I actually have not.”

“Ah. Me neither, of course. May the best… Life-er win, I guess?”

Despite her apprehensions about the game, Marinette had to laugh. “May the best Life-er win!”

The first few rounds, Marinette had to admit the Alya Césaire edition was pretty fun. Instead of the careers you might normally see in the game (doctor, engineer, accountant, etc.), this one had all sorts you could pick and choose from. 30 minutes into the game, Marinette was quite satisfied with her life as a professional fashion designer who lived in a 3.5 story all-pink cottage-house with her pet ladybug, turtle, bunny, cat, horse, and snake, and who loved to fight crime in her spare time.

Naturally, that was when everything went wrong. Okay… not everything. And not wrong, if Marinette had to be honest. But still.

Of course it was Adrien’s turn to draw a card (right after Marinette got her fifth paycheck. Score!). And of course it was one of those marriage cards. But with a twist. Of course.

“Congratulations!” Adrien read aloud. “You’re married to the love of your life, the person on your right. Collect 2000 for your honeymoon.” He turned to the right, where Marinette was staring straight ahead, stiff as a board, trying not to let the blush on her cheeks spread.

So that’s what Alya meant when she said good luck-- good luck, I hope Adrien picks up the marriage card. She turned to her in-game husband, and forced a smile. “Woah, look at that. Married. Fun.”

“Uh, Adrien,” Alya called out. “I think there’s an additional note at the bottom.”

“Huh, you’re right.” He read it silently, then chuckled. “It says, ‘call your new wife ‘babe’ to get another 500.’” He grinned at the blue-haired girl. “What do you say, babe? Do you want to live the rest of our lives together?”

The only thing Marinette wanted at that moment was to melt into her shoes from embarrassment, but instead she managed to force out a, “Sure thing. Babe.” For a second Adrien looked shocked, and she thought she saw a light dusting of pink on his cheeks. But then he laughed and it was gone.

Which obviously left Marinette wondering whether she imagined it or not. So much so that she lost focus on the game until it was her turn again. And just like real life, the game proved yet again to be full of surprises.

She began to read aloud, “Woo-hoo, you got kids! Spin the wheel to find out by how many your family has grown. Married? Get more people pegs to put in the car you share with your spouse. Unmarried? Get more pet pegs to put in your car, and maybe some doggy wipes while you’re at it.” She spun the wheel. Three.

“Perfect,” Adrien said good-naturedly, reaching for the bag of pegs. “I’ve always wanted three kids. What’ll it be? All boys? All girls? Two boys, one girl? Vice versa?”

Marinette mumbled something under her breath, trying to fight back a blush.

“Hm?”

“Y-you can choose,” she stammered. “I, uh, I think I want more… food.” She turned away, pretending to scan the room. It was only half an excuse. She really had wanted something 10 minutes ago, but she couldn’t at the moment remember what.

“You want popcorn? It’s right--” Adrien stopped abruptly, caught off guard to find himself nearly nose-to-nose with Marinette.

How cliché. Horribly, horribly, absolutely cliché. Marinette felt her face heat up, though she was frozen in place.

“Honey,” she breathed out, finally remembering what she’d wanted to get. Honey to go with the cereal in her bowl.

“Yes, honey?” Adrien replied without missing a beat. “What was it you wanted?”

“Uh, n-no, not, no, I meant,” Marinette sputtered, unable to finish a coherent sentence for a full 10 seconds. She was pretty sure her face was beet red, right down to her neck. She cleared her throat, and stood up. “I’m gonna go look for the honey,” she said, praying he didn’t notice her blush.

Well played, Alya. Well played. From then on Marinette swore to never go near a Game of Life again.

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[kinglivv]

Justice

Beth Latimer x Reader

Summary: Set after series 3 epsiode 3. Mark drops some stuff off at the house for Lizzie one night and you let him in while Beth's asleep. However, Beth wakes up and chaos erupts.

Warnings: Mention child death

A/N: I finally feel I've seen enough of Broadchurch to post a proper Beth Latimer fic, so here you go! The beth x reader tag definitely needs more love.

Beth's fast asleep, lying on top of you with her arms wrapped around your shoulders like a vice in her usual clingy manner and her hair tickling your chin. ('I am not clingy!' You can hear her voice reply). You slide a hand under her shirt and breathe in the familiar smell of head and shoulders shampoo, holding her a little tighter.

You had been watching the TV - some corny game show repeat - but when she'd fallen asleep against you, you'd turned it off and pulled a blanket up over her, allowing her some peace. She'd been in a strange mood all evening - you could tell as soon as you'd gotten home from work. So was Chloe, both lost in thought and with an idenitical grim expression on their faces. You had decided not to press them.

It's coming up for midnight and you'd been dozing off yourself when you suddenly hear a key in the door.

You tense, frozen with Beth in your arms as you watched through the doorway of the living room to the front door where in the clouded glass you can see a dark figure. The door unlocks and you brace yourself...

It's... Mark. It's bloody Mark.

"Mark," You hiss, careful not to wake Beth. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"I needed to drop some stuff off!" He whisper-shouts back as if it was the most normal thing in the world to be breaking into his ex-wife's house. He looks you both up and down, and there's a slight envy in his gaze.

"It's bloody midnight! We've told you about letting yourself in."

It should be slightly awkward that he's your girlfriend' ex- husband, but you'd always maintained a respectful if not slightly wary relationship with the man, never quite sure what to think of him. He respected you too, though - you were kind to Beth and that's all he cared about. She had wanted to keep a friendship with Mark after they split, especially for the kids, and you'd always tried to not put yourself in the way of that. You knew what Danny's death had done to them all, and you realised that him coming over for tea every so often and getting to see the kids was a vital part of their lives.

However, you couldn't excuse him breaking in in the middle of the night.

"I was on a late job, I just needed to bring back the stuff Lizzie left at mine the other day." He held up the peppa pig backpack in his hand. "I didn't expect you to be awake."

"Look - fine," You resist rolling your eyes. "If Beth wakes up to find you here, she'll kill both of us."

"I know."

You shift slightly, gently moving Beth off of you. She stirs a little, groaning in her sleep, and you run a hand through her hair.

"Sh, love, it's alright." You mumble softly and she stills again as you stand up, leaving her dozing on the sofa alone.

Mark watches on with a poorly hidden jealousy. Once upon a time, Beth would have woken up at the mere fact he was present in the room. Now, she barely stirred at the sound of his voice. You had everything he had once loved. Everything he had ruined.

It hurts to know that you're better for her than he ever was.

"C'mon then." You say to him, giving him a funny look and making for the stairs, no idea what he's thinking.

He follows obediently, backpack in hand. Silently, you open the door to Lizzie's room, checking the toddler's still asleep. She looks tiny in the twin sized bed amoungst her peppa pig covers (she was going through a phase), and her star projector glitters over her dainty features.

You step aside to allow Mark in, and he quietly sets the bag down by her wardrobe before going to the bed. He leans down, presses a gentle kiss to her head, and stands up. He gazes for a moment around the room, a sadness on his face and you look away, feeling like you're intruding on something. You know that when he looks around Lizzie's room, he only sees Danny's.

"Dad?"

Lizzie's voice is small and sleep roughened. Shit. You'd woken her up.

"Hiya darlin'," He coos, and you glower at him.

"Mark!" You hiss. He waves a hand towards you dismissively and kneels down next to her.

"You should be asleep." He tells her.

"I don't want to be asleep!" She says excitedly, loudly, and you cringe. "Why are you here?"

"Lizzie, you're going to wake up mummy!" You whisper, but you're ignored by her as she continues to chatter away. Mark of course, doesn't make any effort to stop her.

"Y/N?" You hear Beth call from downstairs and your head thumps against the wall with a resigned thud. Well that's you done for.

Mark steps back out into the hallway just as Beth reaches the top of the stairs, her mousy hair pulled back in a messy ponytail, her t-shirt hanging loosely off a shoulder.

She freezes.

"What are you doing here?" She asks flatly.

"I needed to drop some stuff off for Lizzie."

"Mark, it's the middle of the night!" She tells him angrily, before turning to you accusingly. "Did you let him in?"

"He let himself in!"

"I can't believe you!" She exclaims to him, her accent thickening, and you mentally thank Chloe for staying away at a friend's house tonight. "You come in here with that bloody lawyer this morning and now you decide it's a good time to start visiting your kids in the middle of the night?"

Bloody lawyer? What bloody lawyer? You hadn't heard anything about a bloody lawyer. You'd been at work all day.

"Beth, I just needed to drop stuff off for Liz! And we need to talk about that lawyer anyway."

"No we do not!" Beth practically yells. She's worked up and you can't help but wonder where this had come from. What had happened today that had set everything off? It's at this point Lizzie chooses to come running out of her room to involve herself in the excitement. You quickly scoop her up into your arms before she can get any further.

"You're giving up so easily, Beth, we need to take our every chance at getting justice."

"Mark, we are not getting justice and you know it." She hisses, tears in her eyes.

"How do you know? You're givin' up on Dan so easily!"

"I have spent three years of my life not giving up and I've realised that we're never going to get what we want." She snaps. "You need to stop chasing Danny like it's something we're in control of. You need think about me and Chloe and Lizzie, because we're still here."

It's then that you decide to intervine.

"Mark, go. Please." You tell him shortly before he can continue. You didn't know what this was about, but clearly Beth was angrier with him than usual. Much angrier.

He simply glares at you, and then turns roughly to the stairs, elbowing past Beth as he does so. You stare at her, holding her eyes while he clatters down them and then the door slams behind him.

"Go to bed." You tell her quietly. "I'll put Liz back to sleep."

She nods wearily, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek as she passes.

---

"What was that about?" You ask as you close the door behind you. Lizzie had gone to bed without a fuss, practically back asleep before her head hit the pillow.

"Mark being a dick." She replies, her back to you as she lies on the bed, probably glaring at the wall.

"Well that's nothing new, babe." You tell her, earning a light chuckle as you lie down behind her, wrapping an arm around her waist. She rolls onto her back to look at you.

"He turned up to the house with one of the lawyers from the trail today." She explains, and you hold your breath. "Says he wants to open a civil case or something. Another messy trail to try get Joe Miller in jail again."

"Do you want that?"

"No!" She says exasperatedly. "I know it's impossible. Me and Chlo have finally healed from it - as much as we're going to - yet he just keeps kicking at it and digging things up, scratching at it like a scab. I went and told him that by the harbour this afternoon after he pulled that stunt, and he won't take no for an answer. He's only thinking for himself and not the other three people in his family."

"I think he just wants closure."

"We got closure," She replies firmly. "'Not guilty.' And then we stuck him in a taxi to Sheffield."

"He doesn't see it like that though, does he? He's always going to feel guilty for hitting Dan. He's always going to want more."

"Do you not think I feel guilty?" She asks, tears stinging her eyes and suddenly she looks so, so small. "I wish I'd checked on him that night. I wish I'd went through his phone, just once, maybe I could have spotted-"

"I know darling," You whisper comfortingly, trying to stop her from going into a spiral you'd seen her fall down countless times. Pressing a brief kiss to her lips, she softens beneath you. "We're not going to let him drag it up again, okay? If you think it'll do more damage than good, then we'll be no part in it. I'll see to that."

She nods, although you can see a slight uncertainty in her hazel eyes. You know Danny was always a sore spot for her - it had taken months for her to properly start talking about it when you'd first started dating, and even now, occasionally she justs completely closes up. You wondered if that was what she was doing now. Did she truly believe they'd never get justice, or was she just scared of the pain that would come with it?

"It's tomorrow's problem, yeah?"

"Yeah." She agrees. Sleep tonight, worry tomorrow.

Then there's three taps at the door.

"Mummy? Y/N?" She says your name a little sloppily - she can't pronouce it properly yet. Beth jumps up.

"Hiya darling." Beth coos, picking her up when the toddler pushes open the door.

"Where's Dad? Why did he leave?" She asks both of you as Beth sits down on the bed next to where you're lying and crosses her legs, Lizzie in her lap. You reach up a hand and Lizzie grabs onto it, grinning down at you with gapped teeth.

"Dad was just dropping by." You tell her kindly.

"Why did you shout at him, Mum?"

Beth sighs.

"Do you remember Chloe telling you about Danny, darling?" She asks.

"Yeah."

"Well Dad keeps bringing him up, and I don't want to talk about him. Neither does Chloe or Y/N."

"Then I don't want to either." She huffs, folding her arms. She looks so much like her mum and you snort a laugh.

"Good girl." Beth says smiles, her eyes sparkling. "Do you want to sleep here tonight? I'm sorry you had to hear all that between me and daddy."

She nods, shuffling off of Beth's lap and slotting in between you two easily. Beth lies down, wrapping an arm around you both and tugging the covers up.

"Goodnight. I love you." You tell her and she presses a kiss to your cheek.

"I love you."

You half wonder if she'll actually sleep.

Taglist: @truthbehindthemysteries @queerconfusionthings @xenteaart @actuallyanita @ateliefloresdaprimavera @persephonehemingway @fabulous-jj-style @anteroom-of-death

[letsbenditlikebennett]

Too Much || Ariana & Chloe

TIMING: Current PARTIES: @chloeinbetween & @letsbenditlikebennett SUMMARY: Ariana checks in on Chloe and they have a bit of a disagreement.  CONTENT:  Lydia plot CW, gun use mentions, domestic abuse mentions, sibling death mentioned

More time than she would have liked had come and gone since they got everyone out of Lydia’s home albeit not everyone made it out alive. Ariana had meant to check in sooner, but life had been more hectic than she would have liked and she wasn’t even sure Chloe would stay. Her only memories made here were those in Lydia’s prison of a home which were decidedly not pleasant ones. Since she had decided to stay, Ariana knew she could still help and make sure she gets properly acquainted with the town. She walked up to Chloe’s new place with gingerbread cookies in hand and a little hand drawn map in her bag to give Chloe a good run down of the town and where to avoid. She knocked on the door and waved when it opened. “Hey,” she said with a small smile, “Cookies as pr- expected? Not sure that works any better, but hey, cookies!” 

 Chloe had braided her hair so that it sat over her shoulder, tickling her collar bone. Agatha’s place was nice, and when she was at the office the peace and space it offered was a treasure. Lydia’s home had always been too perfect, their living areas impersonal and without trinkets. Whereas Agatha’s felt like a home should, like Agatha herself. Even the couch was soft and comfortable. It wasn’t permanent, but it felt safe, and after four years of sleeping in the same room with other people, being someplace completely by herself felt… wiggy. Which sucked, Chloe could admit to herself, but it was also true. Her foot bounced as she waited for Ariana to arrive, and still startled at the knock on the door. Her first instinct, still, was to hide to avoid the burning retribution of a fae promise broken, but Chloe forced herself to unlock her knees and stand up, walking over to the door and swinging it open. “Hey. Cookies sounds great. Come on in.” She hoped Ariana couldn’t hear her nervous heart trying to escape her chest. 

 Ariana was coming far too familiar with the fact there was no true fix for grief or trauma. Not only was it so different for everyone, but they were also both things that had to be felt through. Subdued with whatever little scrap of solace or hope you could find. It left her all too lost on how to help Chloe in moving forward. Being out of that horror house was a step in the right direction, but she was not naive enough to think it could all be that simple. She could hear the way Chloe’s heart rattled nervously in her chest as she came inside. “Thanks,” she said with a small smile as she walked in. This place was much cozier than Lydia’s home that felt all too cold in all it’s luxury, or maybe that was just because she knew how cold a woman Lydia was. She set the cookies down on the coffee table and gestured for Chloe to try one before fishing a map out of her bag. “So, I made this for you. It’s a little map of town with big red X’s over all the sketchy places… given like half those sketchy places are mime places.” She cracked a smile toward the end. Somehow the mimes managed to be scary and comical all in one. 

 Chloe stepped back stiltedly, revealed her nerves as she gave Ariana a wide berth to pass her by. There were two pictures of Ariana in her mind. There was the blue haired girl under the trees whose dimples sometimes caught the moonlight, flitting around with bats in her hands. That was the image that Sammy had painted for her. Then, there was the other, the monster with fangs and a horrifying maw, that had bitten awfully into Sammy’s thigh. Had done something so visceral to him that sweet, soft Sammy had become frightening to Lydia. Werewolf. Fundamentally dangerous. Chloe couldn’t quite shake that thought, nor make it align with the tiny, young girl in front of her. “You made-” Chloe cut herself off, clutching the back of a chair with a tight grip before lowering herself into it, taking one of the cookies and nibbling at the edge. “That’s… very thoughtful.” Chloe said. There were so many red lines on the sheet of paper. “Mime places, huh? That’s not a phrase you hear everywhere.”

 The day at Lydia’s, Chloe had said her name in a questioning way. It made Ariana wonder how much Sammy had been able to tell her. What harsh words Lydia had likely said about her. She had the feeling Chloe didn’t hold too much stock in Lydia’s opinion. Or maybe she did. Sammy had before he died. The thought made her stomach turn and she opted out of having one of the cookies for now. “For sure,” she said easily, “There’s been a lot of trial and error on that, but I’m pretty durable.” She laughed a bit at the mime part. Somehow, the mimes managed to be a more chilling aspect of the town, especially since they’d even tainted the town’s soccer ball supply. Or football as Kaden would downright insist. “Didn’t you know? White Crest has the most mime per capita of any town in the world.” Her faux enthusiasm faded and she added, “But trust me, I know. I’ve lived a lot of places and most of them don’t have mime establishments.” She looked around the place. It had that distinctly home-y vibe to it. She could see a coffee mug on the counter that had likely been used earlier that day. She was pretty sure she spotted some games on the shelves, too. “How are you adjusting though? It seems nice here,” she asked more seriously now. 

 Chloe looked over the map, her chest squeezing. Sammy should have had this. Sammy had nearly had this. If he’d crept out and stayed out until he was something Lydia had been forced to respect, maybe. If he’d been more careful, if she’d been less cunning. Chloe looked at Ariana without being able to hide how wary she was, wondering if whatever change he’d been offered would really be better. “I keep hearing about that. People talk about their mime hatred online. If I didn’t know- well, it would be pretty funny, if it really was just regular humans dressed up and doing work as regular mimes. Just not… whatever these mimes are.” Chloe shuddered, imagining mimes as just another type of fae, perhaps even more dangerous in their trickery because they never spoke and only listened, so would hear more of the mistakes she knew they could use. “I’m… adjusting. It’s… it’s hard, remembering that I can make choices. Staying with Agatha has been good while I find my feet a little. She’s very… understanding, and very kind.” She looked around, squeezing her hands into her thighs as if that might hide the trembling. 

 Despite the fact she’d experienced a fair amount of pain, Ariana couldn’t even begin to imagine what Chloe was going through. Just that one instance of her free will being taken from her had been damaging and left her filled with dread. That had to be so much worse for Chloe and she wished she could take it all away. But that wasn’t how pain or trauma worked and she hated how easily she could understand that. Focusing on mimes was easier even if they were frightening in their own way. “It would be much funnier if they were just people who were way too enthusiastic about their craft. Since they’re not, better to avoid them… or anything black and white. The soccer balls at the rec center once turned into a bunch of those mini mime monsters which was a big old yikes.” She leaned into the back of the couch and listened as Chloe spoke. All of this sounded incredibly difficult, but she was glad she had a safe place now. “It must be. If it helps to talk about it you can. I know I go back and forth on whether talking feels helpful, but like-- Here if you ever want to and all. I’m glad Agatha has been good. It definitely seems cozy here.” 

 “The soccer balls did what?” Chloe repeated faintly, sitting down by the kitchen table. She traced her finger over the most dangerous zones on the map, watching her fingers tremble. Today, her joints were painful and stiff, it would hurt to hold a pencil to add anything more. When Ariana spoke, Chloe nodded, but when she answered only spoke about Agatha. How could she tell Ariana that the young werewolf made her as nervous as anything else, that the tremors in her hands were because she kept thinking about the bloody stains on Sammy’s clothes even before Lydia had killed him? “It is cosy. I’ve been looking at a couple places so that I don’t overstay my welcome, and because I currently sleep in her office, and I’ve seen some potential places too. Next step is just working out the income, but turns out the unemployment rate around town is very small. People keep going missing, apparently, so there are a decent number of vacancies,.”

 “There’s a mime monster that hangs outside of Yours, Mime, and Ours. I’ve avoided it, but the soccer balls turned into like, mini versions of that. Melted into the same black goo. Wouldn’t recommend,” Ariana said with a shudder. With Lydia gone, the mimes had returned to their rightful place as the most unnerving thing in town. She noticed the slight tremor in Chloe’s hands and frowned for a moment. She wondered how much Sammy had told Chloe about her. Or if maybe Lydia had painted her to be this frightening thing. She shifted and looked around the room. “It is,” she said easily now, “I kind of lucked out with the pricing on my place, but I’m sure there’s other affordable options with… well, vacancies like the jobs. Were you looking for a certain type of job?” It wasn’t what she really wanted to ask. There were so many questions, but she knew how difficult it was for Sammy. The lighting outage in her building and the conversations they had through Blanche were indication enough of that. She bit her tongue and opted to listen instead. Maybe she’d open the floor for questions or whatever it was normal people did, but she still felt so unsure of how to help Chloe. She couldn’t help but wish Sammy was there with them. His awkward rambles to fill the quiet were much preferred to her own inner turmoil around the way things shook out. 

 “A mime m-” Chloe gulped, trying not to envision the paler version of herself that had wrapped her striped fingers around Chloe’s neck, promising an easier escape than the one she’d been granted. “Um, okay. Avoid the mime zones. I won’t forget!” She said, folding up the map to go into her purse, so that she wouldn’t have to look at it any longer. 

 “Yeah, I think I’ll find somewhere soon enough. I have some savings that did okay after not being touched for several years, which I guess is a plus in the being kidnapped column, I kind of feel like I’m intruding.” Chloe could feel herself rambling a little, talking too fast and too high for her lungs. She forced herself to lean back in her chair and take a deep breath, but could not imagine it made her look more relaxed.

 “I- I don’t know. I used to teach elementary students music, but… that has lost its appeal in pretty much every possible way. Even if it hadn’t…. I’m not exactly a desirable hire for working around kids, even in this town. But there are lots of possible jobs, so just applying as they make sense to apply to.” She wrung her hands, idly tracing over the ridges of her swollen knuckles. “What… What do you do? Are you a college student or something like that?”

 It was only natural for the mime stuff to make Chloe uneasy. Hell, most days it made Ariana uneasy and she had a lot more going her way when it came to self-defense. Even so, they were creepy fuckers and she would rather not deal with them if possible. “Good, glad I don’t have to convince you to stay away from them. Some people think it’s a joke.” She let out a nervous laugh. This all still felt strange and being around Chloe brought up some guilty feelings she wasn’t quite sure how to process, so she shook them off. 

 She made herself a bit more comfortable on the couch and listened as Chloe spoke. The small benefit definitely didn’t outweigh the trauma or what she’d been through, but it was good to know she had that small thing going for her. “That’s a good thing to have. Probably one of very few pluses, but you know, still glad it’s there to help you get back on your feet. And I’m sure Detective Keen wouldn’t have offered if she minded. People can be… surprising like that sometimes. My apartment also has a pull out couch if you ever wanted to crash, too. My girlfriend and Sammy’s ghost are both there a lot so uh, full house and all, but you know.” 

 “That makes sense. I can’t imagine there’s much joy left in the whole music thing… which fucking sucks, but it’s kind of one of those things that is what it is. There’s definitely always a lot of job openings so I’m sure you’ll find something soon enough.” Part of all those openings was how often people went “missing”, but it seemed a little bleak to say considering how bleak both of their lives had been. She found herself holding one of the pillows on the couch a little tighter as she tried to shake away that thought. “Trade school student, actually, but I coach kids’ soccer and I have an Etsy shop for my woodworking so I keep pretty busy. Managed to find a steal of an apartment, too.” 

 Chloe smiled with her lips closed, tugging at the fraying end of her sleeve end. “Detective Keen is a good woman,” Chloe agreed quietly, and opened her mouth to politely refuse the teenager’s offer when Ariana mentioned Sammy. Her mouth clicked shut, stunned, even as Ariana kept talking. Chloe knew better than most that young adults responded terribly to dire circumstances, and that this kind of black humour was to be expected but… Chloe had watched Sammy’s brains spatter the walls like goddamn confetti. His ghost wasn’t here, it was haunting the back of her eyelids every time she blinked. He shared the scope of her nightmares in equal measure with Anneliese and Todd and everyone else who had died in that palace if horrors. 

 She nodded along to whatever Ariana said, barely taking it in. She could barely hear it over the ringing in her ears, the grief rising in her chest like a tidal wave. It was as if the conversation had continued without Ariana waiting for Chloe to laugh at her joke, like she’d just slipped it into her conversation like a quiet barb. Maybe she hadn’t even noticed how much Chloe was revealing. “An etsy shop? That’s cool,” Chloe echoed emptily. She squared her jaw. “You shouldn’t joke about Sammy like that.”

 Ariana could feel Chloe disconnecting from the moment as she spoke. Maybe mentioning Sammy had been a bad idea, but his ghost was still hanging around, a fact she needed to speak to Blanche about. While she had regularly visited him for rooftop chats, it had to still feel isolating that he couldn’t respond with one of his signature rambles. It dawned on her how she’d give just about anything to hear one of them again. “Yeah, it’s pretty cool,” she said as she fumbled with her hands, not sure how to address the last part of that. “I wasn’t joking,” she stated albeit somewhat nervously, “My best friend and neighbor is a medium. We’re uh… well, we’re trying to help him move on. Find peace and all that. A little easier said than done considering. I know he’s relieved you’re out of there though.” 

 “Don’t,” Chloe insisted, Ariana’s flat suddenly shrinking around her. The softly decorated walls no longer felt inviting but suffocating, like the curtains might themselves wrap themselves around her throught. “Don’t,” Chloe insisted again. “I know you knew him and that he mattered to you, but you don’t just get to assign feelings to him. He’s dead, Ariana, you can’t just pretend he’s hanging around here like this. You don’t-” A lump in her throat promised to choke her, so Chloe stopped talking, looking at her swollen knuckles.  “This isn’t healthy, Ariana. I think you should probably leave for now.”

“Okay,” Ariana said quietly as she decided against pushing this. Part of her felt frustrated, she hoped maybe helping Chloe would help Sammy move on, but ghosts were too hard to believe in a world filled with fae and werewolves. She didn’t have the energy for this fight, the energy to push that this wasn’t just grief. It’s not like she was seeing Todd or Celeste, not that she saw Sammy, but she trusted Blanche did and there was no way she could have known about him otherwise. “That’s not what I’m-” She started to defend herself before slumping her shoulders and simply nodding. “Yeah, I should go. Just- I don’t know, let me know if you need anything.” And she walked away somehow feeling even more lost than when she arrived. Was it too much to hope that for once her efforts to help would actually be helpful?

[thesaltyoceanwaves]

Good Intentions

Ao3

Based off this post. You guys really seemed to like it, so here you go.

The plan to ruin Marinette Dupain-Cheng’s reputation and credibility was well under way. And while there had been a bump in the road with Bustier undoing her seat switch plan at the end of the day, Lila still considered the day a victory. After all, she managed to sow the seeds of distrust, and the class managed to believe her over Marinette. She gave the baker girl maybe a month, tops, before everything came crashing down on her, and with no way to prove that Lila had anything to do with it.

Of course, there was still the issue of Adrien, but he was a pushover. All he wanted was to make friends! He had no spine, and it would only be a matter of time before she had him twisted around her little finger.

That night, maybe an hour or so before retiring to bed, she hatches her next plan and hits up Alya with a text:

L: Hey, Alya? Could I have Marinette’s number? I’d like to work things out with her and maybe even get her opinion on some clothes??

Usually, for texts like these, she gets a pretty immediate response. She even gets the animation indicating that Alya is typing a message, only for it to stop and no message to be sent. Frowning, she places the phone down on her desk as she goes about browsing social media profiles of her classmates and the stars she’s supposedly schmoozed with, checking to see if there are any new updates. About thirty minutes pass when Alya finally responds, and Lila can’t help but roll her eyes at what might have possibly kept Alya for so long.

A: heyyy, i think it’s great u want to get along w Mari, but i think it’s better 2 give her some space after 2day. but if it’s an emergency, i can ask her 4 u!

Squinting her eyes, she gives the text a long, hard glance before realizing that it’s real. It has to be some sort of joke. There’s no real reason Alya should be hesitant in giving her something like this. 

L: I was worried about this. Marinette must really hate me if she doesn’t even want to give me her number!

A satisfied smirk spreads across her face as she waits for the inevitable anxious reply. Surely, Alya wouldn’t want her new friend to feel so left out and targeted, right? Once again, the texting animation is quickly evident, and she can practically hear Alya apologizing for making her feel so bad about it. 

A: i swear it’s not like that!!! just give her some time & she’ll warm up, i swear!! so how about those outfits!?

Scowling, she quickly responds with a half-hearted “never mind, I’ll ask Clara’s designer instead,” and tosses the phone across the room onto her bed with a sigh. Perhaps it’s just a fluke, and maybe tomorrow, when Lila comes face to face with Alya, she can corner her into giving up Marinette’s number. It’s not something she should be this worried about anyway, but if she’s going to forge fake messages, she needs to make it look like they had contact with each other.

For now, that idea is on hold. Still, there’s plenty of ways to shake things up the next morning.

---

While having a position of power made you respected, it also made you stress out over every other little thing, and put you in a position of criticism. Thankfully, Lila doesn’t have to contend with the responsibilities of Class Rep, and can instead content herself to push Marinette’s buttons instead.

“...And the class vs class picnic will be happening next Friday,” she says, finishing the morning announcements, “Please make sure to bring athletic attire to change into, because we will  be getting messy. Does anyone have any questions?”

Oh boy, does Lila ever. She meekly raises her hand, making sure at least one or two other classmates note the wary expression on her face. Biting back a sigh, Marinette points to her and asks, “Yes?”

“Um, well, I’m not sure I can handle anything outdoorsy,” she pouts, holding out her hand, “My wrist is busted and I can’t really throw anything.”

“Oh, you don’t have to worry about that,” Mylene interrupts, smiling cheerfully, “We made sure to include some non-athletic activities, like making friendship bracelets and writing nature haikus! If you don’t want to use pen and paper, you should be able to bring your tablet!”

With her lips curling inward, Lila has to bite back a dark glare. Something was definitely up. She’s not sure what, but Marinette must have told them something about the previous day. It’s difficult to tell because Marinette doesn’t have a very distinctive expression, but Lila would be a fool to believe otherwise.

And she would certainly not be that.

“That’s very nice of you to think of me,” she says, trying to bite back tears, “But, um, I don’t even know if I’ll be able to go that day, anyway. I’m supposed to be volunteering at a charity event to help reduce carbon emissions. Is it possible that we could have the picnic a day earlier? Or the next week?”

Some glances are exchanged in the rows before conversation breaks out. As she expects, Marinette’s face contorts with annoyance, and she opens her mouth to say something, but she’s cut off by Alya, who places a hand on her shoulder, and shakes her head. Turning to Lila, she says, “Actually, me and Mari spent a lot of time organizing this event with the other student reps, and it wouldn’t be fair to suddenly reschedule like that. But I assure you that we have some other events in the future that we’ll be more easily able to take your schedule into account, just as long as you tell us ahead of time, Lila.”

“Oh,” she pouts, blinking as rapidly as she can. “That’s too bad. I was really looking forward to going too…” she says with a sigh.

“Well,” Mylene offers, “We can always throw you a picnic another day. That way, Marinette and the other student reps don’t have to worry about all that rescheduling, and you can still have fun hanging out with us. Right, guys?”

The chattering, the annoying, annoying chattering grows more excited, as if they already have it planned in stone. As though they no longer have to give Lila anymore thought or concern. Of course, she’d have to be gracious and just accept it, right?

There’s still no sign from Marinette that she’s in on it, or that she’s satisfied with the turn out. For someone who hates lying so much, she must be pretty good at it. There’s no way she’s innocent.

Still, Lila has no choice but to playfully bat her eyes and practically coo at the suggestion. “You’re all just so wonderful! I would love that, of course!”

A pen snaps in her hands, and the ink covers the knee of her leggings. But her forced smile doesn’t falter for a second, lest she want to draw unwanted attention.

---

Marinette is naive to leave her backpack by itself, without a single eye to watch it. It seems that Chloe failed at her job at instilling fear in the school, if Marinette was going around carefree without any sort of protection. But that leaves Lila free to sneak into her bag and plant the answers for the test that they finished taking-

A sudden, squeakish voice interrupts, causing her to drop the paper.

“There you are, Lila!” Rose says cheerfully, “What are you doing?”

Jumping, it takes her a moment to realize she’s dropped the paper. She unfortunately can’t see where it landed, and she finds herself sputtering, sputtering, her response, “O-Oh, Rose! I-I was just… I found Marinette’s backpack!”

“Oh, she was looking for that!” Rose says, picking it up and hugging it to her chest, “That’s awfully nice of you, Lila! Marinette was looking for that.”

“It’s not a big deal! I just wanted to help out a friend, you know?”

“You really are a sweetheart, you know?” Rose says, patting her shoulder, “Still, I think we’re better off just telling Marinette it was in the lost or found.”

She blinks. “What? Why?” 

“Well, we don’t want to give Marinette the wrong idea,” Rose points out, “You might be trying to help her, but knowing her, she’ll probably think you tampered with her stuff.”

“I can’t believe she thinks so little of me,” Lila sniffs, “I’m only trying to help.”

“Oh, we know,” Rose says, patting her shoulder, “And someday she’ll be able to see that. But I think she’s really coming around. Just a little more time and she’ll see just how cool you really are!”

As they leave the area, Lila waits for a moment to sneak back into the backpack, but the opportunity never presents itself. Soon enough, Marinette is reunited with her backpack, and Lila knows from her narrowed leer, she’s bound to search through the bag to make sure it wasn’t tampered with.

--

There is no doubt in her mind that this is deliberate sabotage. Marinette said something to get these goons to follow her around and interrupt at the most opportune and least convenient moments. Plan after plan, ruined because they “don’t want Marinette getting the wrong impression of her!” 

Well, with any luck, that was going to stop today.

She is quick to follow Marinette into the bathroom and pin her against the walls.

“So, you think you’re so smart, huh? Getting your friends to keep an eye on me and keep you out of trouble?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Stop lying!” Lila shouts, “Playing stupid isn’t your forte! I know you said something about me to them to ruin my plans! Well, guess what? I have plenty of methods that’ll get you expelled.”

“Just what the hell do you think you’re doing, Lila?” Alya’s booming voice calls out, holding a phone in front of her. Behind her are Alix, Mylene, Rose and Juleka, who all share darkened expressions and are ready to voice their distaste. She has to think of something quick if she’s going to recover and get control of the situation again.

“A-Alya,” she stammers, trying to force a smile, “M-Marinette was just, um, she was bullying me! Can you believe it?”

“No, I can’t,” Alya retorts, “Because I just captured footage for the past few minutes of you attacking Marinette in the bathroom and threatening to get her expelled! And after everything we did for you, trying to help you get along with her, especially at Adrien’s suggestion!” She clicks her tongue. 

Blinking, she looks from Marinette back to Alya. Adrien? Adrien was the one to calculate this plan? She supposed it would make some degree of sense - Adrien was hardly the type to get his hands dirty when he had assistants and money to do that for him. Still, there was no way the boy with the least amount of backbone in the entire school would go out of his way to sabotage her, especially not for Marinette.

“You’re a liar,” Lila hisses, before trying to smile again, “Adrien would never suggest something so diabolical.”

“Since when was trying to help people get along diabolical?” Alix points out, “If anyone is headed toward the realm of villainy and bullying, it’s you. Anything else you want to confess to?”

And for once, Lila’s out of stories to spin.

[beca-mitchell]

now our hearts are racing (1/1)

summary: Beca and Chloe in a failed exercise of self-control.

word count: 6.4k

Rated M/E for sex. Smut. Coitus.

Read below or on ao3.

There is a very specific look in Chloe’s eyes all night. If Beca had to describe it, it’d be the kind of look she could write songs about, sure, but she’s not exactly certain her label would be too happy about the content exactly.

It’s a look that sends a very specific rhythm rushing through Beca’s body, ending somewhere between her legs—a myriad of emotions and a very specific heat coming together with the promise of sweet, desperate relief.

Fuck.

Her thighs clench together.

“Stop it,” Beca murmurs. She fixes her gaze on the scenery beyond the window to distract herself, but she isn’t seeing. Instead, she sees Chloe’s smile, the barest hint of it within the window’s reflection.

“I’m not doing anything,” Chloe responds. “You, however, look beautiful.”

“I know what you’re doing,” Beca says immediately, turning to face her girlfriend—her fiancée—and fixing her with a stare.

Chloe’s smile is radiant and disarming and it makes Beca feel all kinds of sentimental. Gross. “What am I doing?” Chloe asks.

“Being all—“ she gestures vaguely. “—you know.” Beca lowers her voice, glancing surreptitiously at their Uber driver who is paying no attention and chatting away through his earpiece. “Like that.”

Chloe’s smile becomes a grin and Beca decidedly does not like that. “Like how, Mitchell?”

“Like…how we almost got kicked out of Aubrey’s housewarming just two weeks ago,” Beca says very quickly, her ears choosing that exact moment to grow hot.

Chloe snickers—the audacity—and runs a comforting hand over Beca’s knee, just under the hem of the, as Chloe put it, “very pretty and totally you” red dress Beca is wearing. “I don’t think that was my fault at all.”

Beca’s jaw drops. “Yes it was!” She shoves Chloe’s hand off her knee before pointing an accusatory finger. “You were doing that stupid thing with your—your face and then—“

Chloe sighs, almost wistfully. “—and then Aubrey somehow figured out why we were in the bathroom.” She moves her hand back over Beca’s knee, this time sliding up a few inches. “Tense?” she questions innocently, noting the very stiff way Beca is sitting.

“Wary, you heathen,” Beca mutters, but makes no move to get Chloe’s hand off her skin again. Instead, she sighs and gently flips Chloe’s hand around so their fingers can intertwine.

For a few moments, the car is silent. Beca takes the blessed opportunity to breathe and not look at how cute Chloe looks in her jacket and shorts. Or how nice her neck looks, framed by loose tendrils of soft, red hair.

“I bet you won’t last an hour,” Chloe says, breaking the silence.

“Chloe.”

— — — — — — — — — —

It’s honestly kind of rude, the way Chloe just assumes, correctly, all these things about Beca. From the moment they met, she has slowly and systematically torn down all of Beca’s walls at a comfortable-enough pace that Beca hadn’t even realized it had happened until suddenly she had her hands tangled in Chloe’s hair and their lips pressed firmly and desperately together.

(It’s a story for another time, but it is a story that Beca will never forget. Beca can recall everything about their first kiss, from the salt she could still taste on Chloe’s lips and tongue from the tears they shed together and the way Chloe’s hands had clenched tightly into the fabric of her t-shirt, like she was afraid to let her go. To this day, Beca is still amazed that Chloe clung on that tightly, so much so that she hadn’t given up hope in any regard.)

Chloe assuming that Beca wouldn’t last an hour isn’t necessarily right, but it’s not far off the mark either. Beca just knows she’s in for it when Chloe decides to take off her jacket and check it as opposed to carrying it with her like she would usually. Beca opts to leave hers on, keeping her eyes trained on the way Chloe’s necklace sparkles when it catches the light, nicely accentuated against incredible collarbones.

Beca swallows nervously, taking Chloe’s hand as they make their way through the crowded area. The space, alive with people and music, is shockingly spacious for a New York City bar. Though the lights are dim, Beca catches the assortment of drinks and food scattered on various tables and mismatched chairs. It vaguely reminds her of college and though the thought makes her nose wrinkle, she pushes it down because Beca had promised her one of her co-producers she’d attend his going-away get-together (“not a party”, she was promised) and she really just can’t have a reputation for being the label buzzkill as much as the tabloids would love that.

It also helps that pretty much everybody with whom Chloe comes in contact is immediately enamored by her and amazed that Beca could land that. It’s honestly a weird concept to Beca, that most people these days would say the opposite as her fame continues to grow—that Chloe is the lucky one—but how wrong they all are because Beca knows (and Chloe has confirmed) that time was just on their sides. Beca is amazed that Chloe loves her every day and Chloe has expressed a similar sentiment—her amazement at how they continued to be in each others’ lives so significantly and powerfully.

(Most recently, a similar expression from Chloe and just the morning before: kissing the side of Beca’s face and the corner of Beca’s eye as they both slowly woke from slumber. Chloe’s fingers gently pressing against Beca’s stomach, holding her close. Beca never felt more content to awake in the midst of a dream. Then, Chloe had murmured just how much she loved her—how lucky they were that their paths crossed again after everything—before tilting her head gently to press the sweetest of good morning kisses against her lips.)

But really, it’s more that Chloe doesn’t know how much she exudes sheer sexuality (or maybe she does and Beca’s just a fucking chump) by simply existing. It’s in every smile and every brush of her hand against Beca’s arm like a ghost intent on haunting her for the rest of her life (she can hear Chloe’s voice already: “But I’m a cute ghost, right?”).

Or that she does know and she really doesn’t care (as much as she claims she does) about Beca’s well-being. Beca makes the mistake of looking at Chloe briefly as they near the too-small table her coworkers have commandeered. She has to quickly look away because Chloe is smiling at her—leering at her, really—and slowly licking her lips in a completely inappropriate way for their public setting.

Beca is already thinking before she gets to the table.

The thing is, being intimate with a person regularly, as awesome as it is, just means that Beca knows things now. Knowledge she had not been privy to before (back when she had her head firmly buried in the sand). One of those new nuggets of wisdom happens to be that she knows how much Chloe likes having her ears touched. It had surprised Beca at first, when she had grazed Chloe’s ears a little bit roughly during a heated make-out session, but Chloe hadn’t complained. Quite the opposite—the whimper she had let loose, right against Beca’s neck had been enough of a tell.

So naturally, Beca as a quick and adept learner is keen to apply her knowledge with precision.

These days, ear-touching? It’s almost a surefire way to get Chloe riled up in a pinch.

As Beca nears the table, she tries to school her expression into one of total innocence, but she knows Chloe has already picked up on a shift in the air because her eyes immediately narrow on Beca.

“Hi,” Chloe greets, reaching up to accept the drink from Beca’s hands. “Thank you—oh.” She is not prepared for the way Beca immediately plants herself right on Chloe’s leg and drapes an arm over her shoulder. “Hello,” Chloe greets again, though with a noticeably different tone. Beca tilts her head to smile at her.

“Hi.” Chloe’s hand slowly comes up to hold her hip. Beca refuses to falter even though it’s like every little touch she gets from Chloe is enough to set every last nerve aflame. “You wanted a rum and coke, right?” she asks in the steadiest voice she can muster.

Despite that, Chloe’s eyes narrow in suspicion, though the gaze is offset a little by the various lights dancing across her face. “Yeah. Thank you.” She relaxes for a moment, this time tilting her head up to press a quick kiss to Beca’s lips. Beca resists the urge to deepen the kiss immediately for a multitude of reasons, one of which is that there are many pairs of eyes attentively on them at the moment and the other being that she doesn’t want Chloe to know exactly what she has planned.

Sighing, Chloe settles back and leaves her arm around Beca’s back comfortably. Beca takes a sip of her drink innocently, shifting discreetly on Chloe’s leg. The faintest thrum of heat rushes through her body, but she pays it no mind for the time being. Instead, she carefully lifts her hand from where it rests just over Chloe’s shoulder and lifts it to first play with strands of Chloe’s hair near her ear. Chloe stiffens, but relaxes as she pinches Beca’s hip gently in warning.

“I have to know, Chloe,” Beca’s (extremely intolerable and annoying) co-worker, Dean, begins to say. Beca briefly tunes in but focuses primarily on twirling the wisps of Chloe’s hair. “What is Beca like at home?”

At that, Beca shoots him an annoyed expression while Chloe shifts a little uncomfortably. “What do you mean?”

“Like is she constantly attached to her computer? Working? Outperforming us all the time even when she’s not in the studio or office?”

Beca can just feel Chloe’s protective hackles start to rise. She rolls her eyes. “He’s joking,” she says loudly, finally speaking. “He’s just jealous because my album’s being fast tracked and his isn’t.” She tilts her head just enough so it barely leans against the side of Chloe’s head and bares her teeth in a blinding smile. “Isn’t that right, Dean?”

Chloe giggles, relaxing a little bit. “I don’t know,” she admits, a playful lilt to her voice. Beca groans internally. Chloe and her penchant for dramatics. “You’re so attached to your headphones and laptop.” She drums her fingers against Beca’s hip. “Like...super attached,” she says, adding a raised eyebrow for effect.

Beca raises an eyebrow of her own, barely stifling the way her body seems to clench involuntarily at the ever-so-subtle tightening of Chloe’s fingers against her hip. She slowly lifts her hand to Chloe’s ear, gently running the tip of her index finger against the soft, delicate skin of her earlobe. Somehow, Beca is still vaguely aware that the conversation continues around them, but the strikingly hot expression that flashes through Chloe’s eyes at that exact moment sends the most peculiar rushing sound through Beca’s ears.

She strokes her finger down around the curve of Chloe’s ear, watching as even under the dim lights, a visible flush rises up Chloe’s neck to her cheeks.

Stop, Chloe mouths.

Beca grins, shaking her head ever so slightly.

“Brat,” Chloe murmurs, just low enough for Beca’s ears to pick up on.

— — — — — — — — — —

They end up in a secluded corner after Beca’s coworkers end up engaging in a rowdy sing-off across the way from the bar. Totally and completely not by Beca’s design, she and Chloe are engaging in a heated make-out session probably a touch too inappropriate for a very public space. Beca can’t bring herself to care, not when Chloe’s lips glide over hers with purpose. Not when Chloe’s teeth catch onto her lips gently at first, then firmly.

A gasp escapes her when Chloe tugs her lower lip with force. Beca finds herself further breathless and intoxicated off Chloe’s touch when Chloe’s hand curls posessively around her back and onto her waist with such a solid, precise grip that Beca can do nothing more than press herself further into the oversized chair and Chloe’s body.

Beca fumbles with her drink, letting the empty glass drop to the table by their side. She doesn’t hear glass breaking so she immediately refocuses on Chloe’s lips on hers. Chloe tastes sweet and sharp, like the perfect mixed drink on a hot day.

She grabs Chloe’s wrist, sliding Chloe’s hand roughly up the inside of her thigh, moaning softly when Chloe’s fingers graze the rough lace of her underwear. It takes a few seconds of languid, soft kissing before Chloe fully realizes just where her hand is. Her hand shifts, her knuckles brushing against the front of Beca’s underwear. Beca is so far past being embarrassed and yet she still finds it in her to blush when Chloe’s hand pauses the moment she realizes exactly how wet the fabric of Beca’s underwear is.

“You’re filthy,” Chloe murmurs, low and quiet against Beca’s mouth. Beca barely registers that, nodding a little frantically before pulling Chloe’s face back against her own. Still, Chloe pulls back, breathing heavily. “Here?” she questions. Her knuckle grazes Beca’s clit, causing her hips to jolt. “Right now? Where everybody could see?”

Beca almost says yes.

She almost agrees.

Almost begs Chloe to fuck her hard right in that fucking arm chair. She could give in. She can see it in her mind’s eye: Chloe’s hand and arm lewdly displacing the fabric of her dress—a dress perfect and fitting for such an occasion—and just sliding her hand up her thigh until she hits the apex of Beca’s thighs. The soft exhale of Chloe’s breath when she realizes how wet Beca is already. The flash in her eyes—a combination of determination and lust—which Beca would struggle to see; she would struggle to hold on to Chloe’s gaze in the darkness and she would struggle to simply keep her eyes open long enough.

Instead she steadies herself and stands abruptly, casting a surreptitious glance around to ensure nobody had caught them. As if she is completely unaffected, Beca smooths out the crinkles on her dress and tries not to smirk at Chloe’s mild slack-jaw. Instead, she reaches out to tuck an errant strand of hair behind Chloe’s ear.

Chloe stands as well, a little abruptly for all her usual grace and care. “Where are you going?” she demands over the bass all around them.

“Bathroom,” Beca says without bothering to check if Chloe will follow her.

— — — — — — — — — —

(But she knows she will.)

— — — — — — — — — —

Chloe doesn’t follow her immediately, which Beca finds both disappointing and relaxing. She quickly takes a steadying breath as she grips the sink with both hands.

“Stop it,” she hisses at her reflection. “Calm down.”

It normally isn’t this bad when she and Chloe go weeks without seeing each other. It’s hard knowing that Chloe still has to finish this last year of veterinary school while Beca’s stuck in Los Angeles putting the finishing touches on her second album. It’s hard being apart for long stretches of time, especially after the exhilaration of their engagement. Especially knowing that they have the rest of their lives together.

But Beca’s impatience tends to run thin these days.

Her eyes flick up to the door when it pushes open slowly, revealing Chloe’s carefully-neutral expression. Slower still, Chloe lets the door close behind her before reaching out to lock it behind her.

“Unlocked?” Chloe asks in a light tone. “What if I were a stranger?”

“I’d tell you to get out,” Beca replies.

“You would, huh?” Chloe says in a tone that suggests she’s done talking. Still, she takes the time to wash her hands slowly, making Beca’s eyes zero in on the action. She licks her lips in anticipation. “Are you telling me to get out now?” Chloe asks, making her way over as if they have all the time in the world.

In a sense, they do. They always will, when it’s just the two of them.

Beca’s breath catches immediately when she feels Chloe’s hand slide around her waist before settling firmly on her belly. She grunts when Chloe’s body pushes tightly against her back, trapping her against the sink.

“You’re terrible,” Chloe mumbles, lifting her chin to hook over Beca’s shoulder. Her breath is warm against Beca’s neck. “I know what you’re doing.”

“What am I doing?” Beca echoes faintly.

Chloe reaches under her dress abruptly to snap at the elastic of her underwear. Both the sound and the sensation immediately cause a flood of wetness between Beca’s legs. Instinctively she tightens her thighs and presses her legs together, but only for a moment because Chloe uses her own leg to gently kick her legs apart. Beca groans at the sensation of cool air hitting the sticky, wet skin between her thighs, embarrassed at how soaked she is and how much she aches for Chloe to just touch her.

“You so want me to touch you right now, don’t you?” Chloe asks. Her free hand, the one decidedly not holding Beca’s limp form up against the sink, slides up the bare skin of Beca’s arm, right to her shoulder before gently reaching up to ghost over Beca’s neck. Like a feather, Chloe’s fingers gently brush against Beca’s skin, never lingering in one area too long. Beca longs to clamp her legs together again, but Chloe’s foot is still firmly planted against the inside of her left foot. “Right here?” Chloe rasps, voice thick and hoarse right against Beca’s ear. “In this bathroom of all places? Where anybody could see?”

“I’ll be quick,” Beca blurts before she can even stop herself. She’s too fucking turned on to be embarrassed. “Fuck, baby, just two fingers, please—”

Chloe’s fingers are suddenly on her neglected, swollen clit, firm and unforgiving. Like floodgates, Beca feels everything all at once—the stickiness between her thighs, the steady, muted pulse just between wet folds, and the incessant ache that cries out for Chloe’s fingers, her tongue. All of it, all at once, like a freight train of arousal.

Beca yelps, her head hanging forward as her hips immediately bear down on Chloe’s mercilessly still fingers. She’s aching and desperate and just so ready to fucking come—since Chloe fucking looked at her when they left Beca’s apartment. All those fucking glares and heated gazes from across the bar—

Beca whimpers, rocking her hips just right so that Chloe’s fingers slip against the soaked fabric of her underwear, right against where she aches for Chloe to sink her fingers. Gasping then, her eyelids flutter shut and she loses herself in the sensation of rocking wantonly against Chloe’s fingers, reaching out to brace herself against the sink. She can almost see it in her mind’s eye, not unlike earlier: the way her dress is displaced indecently, how flushed her cheeks are, Chloe’s lips ghosting along her neck.

She could come just like this.

Right against Chloe’s hand and Chloe wouldn’t have to take off a single item of clothing. Right there, in the heinously lit bathroom, right against a white, porcelain sink, Beca Mitchell—Grammy nominee, chart topper, Chloe Beale’s fiancee—could come—

“Fuck!” Beca hisses when Chloe removes her hand abruptly. She takes a moment to breathe heavily, panting while her clit throbs in the absence of Chloe’s fingers. She can’t bring herself to look up in the mirror’s reflection (even though she’s pretty certain that Chloe is smiling, the fucker).

Chloe’s breath comes out in a sharp burst against her ear, startling her. The arm around her waist tightens ever so slightly, holding Beca upright. It is the warm breath that warns Beca, but she can do little to prepare.

“I could let you do that, you know,” Chloe murmurs. Her voice is low—lower than her usual tone—and dripping with all kinds of promise. “Just rub yourself desperately against my hand until you come.” Beca whimpers in desperation. “But then nobody wins.”

“I don’t give a fu—” Beca chokes, splutters then. Chloe’s hand is back between her legs, cupping her dripping cunt delicately over the ruined fabric of her underwear. She groans at the sensation, finally lifting her eyes to stare reproachfully at Chloe through the mirror. Chloe’s eyes are dark, almost impossibly so.

And hungry. Beca knows she could get Chloe to cave, if she would just shove her damn underwear to the side and—

“I love seeing you like this,” Chloe rasps, her voice still low and thick against Beca’s ear. Her eyes seem to brighten when she realizes Beca is paying attention to her; that Beca’s eyes are fixated on her; that Beca is, and always will be, completely trapped by Chloe Beale in more ways than one.

“Chloe,” she whispers, spinning around as best as she can in Chloe’s arms. She winces when her hip and lower back hit the sink, but the pain is soon forgotten when she reaches up to pull Chloe in for a wanting, messy kiss. Moaning softly, she keeps her touch light, cupping Chloe’s cheek and jaw and slanting her lips just right. “Don’t stop.” Chloe’s hands are suddenly smoothly sliding under her thighs, lifting her firmly onto the edge of the sink. Disregarding the precarious balance she has, Beca quickly wraps her arms around Chloe’s shoulders, pulling herself closer to Chloe’s warmth. She shudders, breathing out a stuttered breath against Chloe’s neck. “Please.” She nips at Chloe’s jaw. “Chlo,” Beca murmurs. She’s not in control of her own actions anymore. She just needs Chloe to touch her—to take care of her like she always does without fail—before she combusts on the spot.

“Make it up to me when we get home,” Chloe mumbles against Beca’s mouth. “Because we’re going home after this.”

“I promise,” Beca whispers. “I—” she is cut off by Chloe’s fingers bypassing the ruined fabric of her underwear and slowly sinking into her. Two, as requested.

Chloe’s mouth immediately covers her own again, stifling the cry that leaves Beca’s lips. Three weeks without feeling the familiarity of Chloe’s fingers pressed inside her, having to make do with her own hands. Left to her own devices.

The pressure is enough, so much so that it is almost overwhelming. Beca bucks up against Chloe’s hand as best as she can while Chloe attempts to hold her upright lest she fall right into the sink. Beca manages to grunt through the force of Chloe’s thrusts, gripping hard to hair at the back of Chloe’s head: “More.”

Chloe makes a strangled sound, somewhere between a whimper and a moan and her wrist twists so she can accommodate one more finger between Beca’s legs. Trapping her lower lip between her teeth, Chloe pulls back to watch Beca’s face for any discomfort and to observe the sheer pleasure that crosses her face at the exact moment Beca feels it.

“Oh fuck,” Beca whimpers with the little breath she has remaining. She drops her hips against Chloe’s hand immediately, eyes crossing at the feeling of three fingers pressed tightly inside her. She clenches, barely, and rocks her hips against experimentally. Chloe’s fingers twitch inside her. “Fuck,” Beca whimpers. “Fuck, Chlo–”

Chloe pants against her ear, pulling Beca as close as she can—as close as she dares—with her hand trapped between their bodies. A high-pitched whine sounds from Chloe—a tell that Chloe is on the verge of her own orgasm or at least somewhere close—and that alone is enough to set Beca off. It’s too much.

Finally, sweet aching relief courses through them both. Beca, more than Chloe at the moment, if the expression on her face is anything to go by.

“Breathe,” Chloe whispers, pressing a lazy kiss against Beca’s jaw. “You’re okay,” she promises with her own shaky breath.

Beca takes a deep breath to steady herself, trying not to gasp too desperately. She likes that Chloe’s hand lingers for a moment between her legs before she pulls her fingers out achingly slow. Beca’s body thrums, clearly not finished with the night.

Eventually, Chloe steps away and helps Beca slide off the sink, both of them demure and muted in wake of their very public and very inappropriate lust-fueled sex.

Chloe begins washing her hands and Beca figures she should do the same to just take her mind off things and offer herself some relief in the form of cold water. But it is Chloe’s voice who breaks through her haze once more.

“You had a promise to fulfill, right?”

— — — — — — — — — —

Beca makes good on her promise and then some—she figures it’s the least she can do.

And how much she can do, she thinks, gazing at Chloe’s wet and swollen folds between mercifully-spread legs.

“Beca,” Chloe says in warning.

Before Beca can wonder exactly why her brain is so hardwired to respond to Chloe’s voice when it’s like that, she simply succumbs to the feeling of being wanted and needed—being wanted and needed as much as she feels for Chloe (as she does always, but tonight has been an excess of emotions just a bit more than usual).

Chloe’s lips part in an exhale, momentary desperation flashing in her eyes when something in her façade crumbles at the sight of Beca on her knees between her legs. “Please,” she whispers, reaching out to tangle her fingers in Beca’s hair. She does not tug or pull, simply holding Beca’s head in a show of affection and love amidst the heat.

This is all Beca needs.

— — — — — — — — — —

Beca rotates her sore jaw around for a moment before she licks the taste of Chloe off her lower lip. Chloe’s body is so far up the bed at this point, her legs bent and spread with an obscene amount of wetness streaked along her thighs. Beca tilts her head, admiring a visible bite mark along the soft skin of Chloe’s thighs.

Even though the muscles in Chloe’s legs continue to twitch and spasm for a few more seconds, Beca can’t resist as she reaches out to trace her fingers lightly up Chloe’s legs, starting from her knees and ending just at the crease of her thigh. Her fingers catch on the come streaked along soft skin, the sensation alone sending heat rocketing back between her legs.

Already, the memory of the club is far in Beca’s memory, but the phantom memory of Chloe’s tongue between her legs jolts her arousal again, reminding her of the ache between her own legs.

“You’re so pretty,” Beca murmurs, smiling at Chloe’s slightly dazed expression. She musters an innocent expression and bites her lip, waiting for Chloe to respond.

Chloe doesn’t respond for a moment, lifting a hand to comb through her own hair. Her body is covered in a thin sheen of sweat, her hair is plastered to her forehead, and her cheeks are rosy—visible even under the dim light of their bedroom—with some exertion. Beca just admires the view, specifically the rise and fall of Chloe’s chest and, as Beca rises on her knees to crawl over her girlfriend’s body, the prominence of her collarbones.

Just as Chloe starts to settle down, Beca sits astride Chloe’s waist and bites her lip when her clit licks up against Chloe’s skin. Chloe’s eyes open and she tilts her head with interest to see Beca gazing back at her.

“Hi,” Beca says, attempting nonchalance.

“Hm,” Chloe hums, making no move to do or say much else other than move her hands up Beca’s thighs.

“Chlo,” Beca murmurs.

“Beca,” Chloe responds. Her voice is barely above a whisper. “C’mere,” she mumbles, sitting up to meet Beca for a kiss. Beca takes her time languidly tracing her tongue over Chloe’s lips before slipping her tongue inside Chloe’s mouth. Softly, Chloe moans, tightening her grip on Beca’s hips in a brief show of possession even in the privacy of their bedroom. The kiss is lazy, but Chloe’s lips and tongue are thorough, like she is trying to taste herself off Beca’s lips.

Chloe nips at Beca’s bottom lip before releasing it. “It’s not fair,” she murmurs.

“What isn’t?” Beca asks, distracted. Chloe’s hands are allowing her to start a slow rhythm, back and forth in her lap.

“You still have your dress on,” Chloe replies, pulling at the tight fabric at Beca’s waist.

“Should I take it off?”

Chloe chuckles. “It might be more fun if I take it off.”

The ache between Beca’s legs only intensifies when Chloe tugs the dress over her head. With her eyes still on Beca’s face, she tosses the dress aside before her hands trace a familiar path up Beca’s stomach to her breasts. Beca exhales, low and heavy, keeping her eyes on Chloe’s as best as she can, no matter how much she wishes to close her eyes at the sensation of Chloe’s thumbs flicking across her painfully-stiff nipples. An answering sensation pulses between her legs again, feeling less and less like an ache and more like a want.

A hot, desperate want making itself known with every press of Chloe’s fingers against her skin.

“Having fun?” Beca asks, less steady than she’d like. Her breath catches on the second syllable and her eyelids finally flutter shut when Chloe’s fingers pinch at her nipple.

“Kind of,” Chloe says simply, before moving to press a hot, open-mouthed kiss to Beca’s chest, circling around her nipple before finally enveloping pebbled flesh. Beca’s hips jolt at the sensation, canting down into Chloe’s lap.

Chloe moves her ministrations to Beca’s collarbones, her kisses becoming soft and slow—her kisses eventually become languid nips and sucks along her neck, eliciting a series of coos and breathless whines from Beca’s throat. Clearly pleased at the sound, Chloe lifts her head and giggles before capturing Beca’s lips again, clearly intent on being frustrating.

But the want Beca feels isn’t quite satisfied.

She wants Chloe again.

Before Chloe realizes what is happening, she shifts so she is pushing Chloe onto her back. Chloe’s eyebrow rises in interest as her gaze flicks between Beca’s eyes and Beca’s kiss-swollen lips. The determination and fire in Beca’s eyes stokes the heat between Chloe’s legs more and she shifts, rubbing her legs together, ever-mindful of the way Beca’s gaze tracks over her face and body with rapt attention.

Beca kisses her. Hard.

One of Beca’s hands slips between Chloe’s legs. Chloe doesn’t notice it at first; she is too preoccupied with Beca’s tongue to feel her fingers sliding along Chloe’s thigh, lightly slipping across soft skin until they tap against Chloe’s clit in a sudden, incessant rhythm. The action causes a full-torso jolt and a quick, quiet grunt to leave Chloe’s lips.

“Chloe?” Beca asks quietly.

“God, please.” Chloe would be remiss if she didn’t acknowledge how much she had been craving Beca’s touch all night. She is only aware of just how much she wants her now, with Beca’s hips cradled between her legs; with Beca’s hair tickling her shoulder as it drapes over Beca’s shoulders messily; with her aching cunt pressed against Beca’s midsection without any real discernible pressure.

“How,” Beca starts, licking her lips, “do you want me to touch you?”

Another question, another spike of heat between Chloe’s legs. The pleasant reminder and even more vivid memory of Beca eagerly eating her out just moments earlier float to the forefront of Chloe’s conscience.

“Your hand,” Chloe says instantly, her hips twitching in anticipation already. “Your fingers,” she clarifies, clearing her throat at the instant darkening of Beca’s eyes.

Beca’s hands are quick to obey, one arm sliding around her back in a loose, easy hug, while she trails her other hand down Chloe’s stomach, fingers skimming gentle abs and soft skin. Beca’s nose comes up to brush against Chloe’s, a gentle barely-there kiss following. The gentle, comforting weight of Beca’s body atop hers shifts into more than just pleasurable warmth. Chloe can feel every last nerve-ending alight with the sensation of Beca’s warm body against her own; every last sensation of sweat-slicked skin against sweat-slicked skin feels like another jolt of pleasure.

Beca’s touch is so light and her affections are surprisingly gentle. Chloe’s body thrums incessantly with so much heat and desperation that she almost loses it right there, at a gentle graze of Beca’s teeth against her lower lip. Finally, Chloe’s head tilts back as Beca’s hand reaches her clit, deft fingers gently scissoring around swollen flesh.

A loud whimper escapes as Beca presses the heel of her hand to Chloe’s clit and her index finger runs up and down Chloe’s wet slit. Chloe’s hips rotate in a slow grind against Beca’s hand—lazy, deep circles—following the press of Beca’s hand. The ever-present throbbing deep in her belly makes itself known even more. Hot and wanting, the sensation dips with each swivel of Chloe’s hips; with each dip of Beca’s fingers.

And finally—

Chloe cries out, unable to refrain from restraining herself. Her head drops to Beca’s shoulder, eyes falling shut quickly.

Beca’s fingers are so warm, dipping just barely into Chloe’s entrance as a warning of sorts before Chloe’s hips shove up impatiently and she’s slipping inside even more. Chloe is keenly aware of how wet she is now—how easily Beca’s fingers are gliding through her folds (but not in where Chloe’s cunt aches for her love greedily).

Beca’s breath is hot against her ear. “Fuck, Chloe,” she exhales with reverence. “You’re soaked.”

An obvious statement all things considered, but it is the way Beca says it with pure sex and want dripping from her voice. Her voice is low and raspy, like so much emotion sticks in her throat, unwilling to escape just yet.

It makes Chloe want to elicit more sounds from her—makes her want to draw out every last ounce of pleasure from Beca until she is hoarse from screaming Chloe’s name.

(But Beca can try again later.)

All Chloe can focus on is how her world has started to blur at the edges. The build-up doesn’t take long. Chloe’s body feels so fucking full, like she burst at any moment. She clutches at Beca’s shoulders, digging her fingers into soft muscle and prominent shoulder blades.

Beca’s wrist twists and her fingers slide all the way inside Chloe.

“Fuck,” Chloe hisses. “Bec, right there.”

Chloe comes very close to feeling tears in her eyes. Her eyes sting, nothing more, but she feels momentarily overwhelmed by how well Beca’s fingers fill her. She thought she had felt full before, but now—“more, baby,” Chloe grunts, pushing her hips to the limit of how far Beca’s fingers can fill her. She tries to shift to afford Beca more room and together, they work in a third finger into Chloe’s opening—a reminder of how it had felt when Chloe had three fingers inside her fiancée not too long ago.

A strangled groan erupts from Chloe’s throat. With Beca’s three fingers pressed so tightly together inside her cunt, she begins to finally see white around the edges of her vision. Gasping, she rocks her hips back and forth before lifting herself and dropping herself back down on Beca’s fingers. There is no rhythm, Chloe thinks. Not here—not in this bed with Beca Mitchell of all people. For once, neither of them can fathom a rhythm, not when all Chloe knows is Beca’s body pressed against her own.

“That’s it,” Beca rasps. “You’re so fucking tight, Chlo. I can feel you around my fingers.”

It takes a moment to formulate words, particularly as Beca is not typically prone to being verbose during sex. “I wanted you all night,” Chloe whimpers in response. “God, I’ve been thinking about this since you fucked me in the bathroom. Fuck, Beca—fuck—you’re so good to me.” Words are tumbling out of her lips at an incredibly fast pace until she is nothing but a mess in Beca’s arms, incomprehensible sounds and bitten-off words echoing into the air around them.

Chloe sees it fully now, the white light and forces herself right into it.

She closes her eyes tighter and pushes out a harsh breath. Beca’s fingers press and circle—her thumb on her clit, her fingers pressed tight inside her—and then Chloe sees white and breaks.

Her body coils tight, muscles along her abdomen and thighs contracting as she shoves herself against Beca’s body; as she clenches hard around Beca’s fingers. Even if her fingers aren’t quite as deep as Chloe typically likes, the fullness and the stretch burns through her, white hot like the best of adrenaline rushes. She grunts, a high-pitched sound escaping her unbidden, and comes hard with Beca holding her close.

Beca’s whispering in her ear, something calming probably but Chloe is still falling and flying all at once as Beca strokes out the last of her orgasm with a steady hand.

Beca pants harsh breaths against Chloe’s neck as she flops to the side. She slips her hand the plane of Chloe’s stomach, enjoying the jolts that flutter beneath her palm.

Chloe, breathless, tilts her head to press a kiss against Beca’s forehead. “You’re so good at that,” she praises.

Beca hums a response, kind of. “Just that?” she asks. She feels Chloe laugh breathlessly, hot air coming out across her shoulder. Chloe follows it up with a kiss to sweat-slicked skin, both of them taking a moment to just breathe together. Chloe’s hand scrapes up her back to gently trace Beca’s tattoo before her grip tightens and she is pulling Beca closer to her body.

“So much more,” Chloe promises.

“Thank you,” Beca mumbles. She sighs and leans up on her elbow so she can see Chloe’s face. “I love you,” she says quietly before she gently presses her forehead against Chloe’s.

Chloe smiles, gently pulling Beca’s head down so she can kiss her thoroughly. “I love you too,” she replies through soft, sticky kisses. Beca sighs against Chloe’s mouth, immediately feeling her body warm from the feeling of Chloe’s fingers tracing pleasant patterns against her back. “Even if you were totally impatient tonight.”

Beca musters a grin, harnessing energy from the pleasant tingle she feels when Chloe’s lips touch her skin. “Who said we were done though? I think we have all weekend.”

[screamingatanemptyroom]

I Refuse to be a Named Character Pt 6

Hey Everyone I’m back! New job has definitely kicked my butt, but I’m kicking back! I’m going to try to write more and maybe post smaller updates in the meantime! So probably another part or two to finish off this tale! 

Master post linked here! 

Enjoy!

________________________________

“The others are fighting for all the advantages they can get prior to the first party tonight.” 

The masked servant knelt on the cold floor without any sign of discomfort, reporting in a dispassionate tone. His master sat on the windowsill, staring out into the gardens, a single finger tracing patterns in the condensation on the glass.

“How many keys do my brothers control?” Luke’s voice was cold, as if he didn’t care much about the answer that every nobleman in the city would give all their possessions to know.

“None. Prince Graham’s mother has bought over some relations of the third, fifth and eighth Lords, and Prince Fetter has been blackmailing every servant in the city, but the Ten Lords themselves have not given their loyalties to any prince.“

“Holding out for the highest price?” Luke sneered, his eyes searching the gardens as he spoke. “I can’t imagine those greedy old men having any notions of loyalty or fairness.” 

The servant bowed his head silently.

“So it will actually depend on the three parties? My father should be pleased that his final test will be carried out so well.”

“… Your Highness?” The servant hesitated a long moment before finally speaking up. “Why are you participating in this ridiculous trial? It’s a complete farce! With your forces…”

“It is none of your concern.” The chill in his voice seemed to freeze the air between them. 

“…Very well, Your Highness.”

“She still sees something worthwhile in me.” He muttered quietly. “I won’t betray that.” His eyes caught a glimpse of a figure walking along one of the garden’s pathways through the glass, and his gaze softened, a gentle smile tugging at his lips.

“If there’s nothing else, let’s end it here.”

“…” The masked servant didn’t move, staying in his kneeling position. Although his expression couldn’t be seen, his discomfort could be felt as he fidgeted in place. As the silence dragged on, Luke reluctantly looked away from the person in the gardens, turning towards the masked man with a frown.

“What is it? Something important?”

“I’m… not sure.” The man’s brows knitted together. “It’s a little… unusual more than anything.”

Luke waved a hand. “Well? Go ahead.”

“There’s been a… movement? A religion?” He shook his head. “Perhaps ‘cult’ would best describe it… spreading amongst the servants and craftsman in the capital.”

“I see.” Luke raised an eyebrow. “And why is this my concern?”

“Well, partly because the majority of your servants have taken part… but also because of its source.” The servant looked away from the prince’s gaze, uncomfortable. “You see… it’s a peculiar belief system, that states that by casting off one’s name and identity, one can avoid the deadly trouble and world and live a happy life.”

“…” Staring at the kneeling man for a few stunned moments, Luke couldn’t help but throw his head back and laugh loudly. “How many have joined this cult?”

“Well… it began with just a handful among the areas she lived in… but it seems to have spread like a wildfire.”

“Of course.” A grinned tugged at the prince’s lips. “She can’t help but draw you in.”

“Your Highness…”

“Leave it be, unless you judge there’s any danger to her.” He turned back to the window, a finger tracing over the glass outlining the person in question. “Go make sure all my forces stand ready in case something goes wrong.” 

“Yes, Milord.” With a brief nod, the masked man quietly exited, leaving Luke alone.

“I’ll play by the rules while I can, but I won’t let you get hurt.”

He whispered a name, so quietly even he could barely hear it.

________________________________

“So you’re saying that in our story, all important characters are doomed to die bloody, violent deaths?” The servant girl stared up at me with an awed expression, making me slightly uncomfortable.

“All except the main hero and main villain, yes.” I nodded my head slowly.

“And that’s why you don’t have a name?” The young man next to her smiled with understanding.

I hesitated at his expression, but finally answered slowly. “Yes. I’m just an unimportant, nameless side character. Fading into the background.”

“A nameless side character.” The small group of servants repeated reverently after me, their eyes bright and excited. 

“…” 

Something’s… off. When I had originally been asked by one of the servant’s in Luke’s quarters why I didn’t have a name, I hadn’t thought much of it. Without mentioning the “transported into a book world” bit, I had explained my theory that all important characters died terribly.

 It had apparently struck a nerve. 

Ever since that day, that servant had been bringing small groups to talk to me, sometimes up to several times a day. They all seemed eager to listen, despite my increasingly wary replies. Even stranger, I had noticed that the servants in the household no longer called each other by name. 

What is going on?

“There you are!” A pleasant voice called out, interrupting my uncomfortable musings. 

“Luke!” I turned with a smile, waving goodbye to the group I had been talking to earlier.

“He has a name…”

“Fool! His Highness is a main character!”

I thought I heard some muttering behind me, but right then Luke reached out, grabbing my hand and distracting me.

“Having fun starting a new religion?” 

“Pardon?” I cocked my head to the side, confused. He stared at me for a few moments before laughing, the delighted sound making me grin back . 

“Never mind, as long as you’re happy.” He squeezed my hand gently. “Ready for the party tonight?”

“I’m going?” The thought made me nervous. It would be the final trial, so all the princes would be there. Fetter…  Graham… I swallowed uncomfortably. I hadn’t seen Graham or his mother since our last run in, and I wasn’t looking forward to it. 

“Who else would be willing to stand by my side?”

“And you… you’re participating?” I couldn’t help but ask; feeling confused. In the book his character hadn’t taken part in the parties at all, simply attacking the city at the night of the third party instead and trying to take the throne by force. It had been a vicious, bloody attack, every horrifying detail described. It was the final straw that made me unable to finish the fourth book Chloe had lent me.

Now I wished I had finished it despite how awful it was to read. I don’t even know what happened to Luke after the attack on Western City. Was he successful? Had he gotten hurt? Anxiety pierced my chest at the thought. He was so different from his character in Deadly Crown, but I wasn’t sure if it would help or hurt him.

How much have I changed the story?

Luke pulled me over to sit next to him on one of the benches in the garden. “It’s true, I don’t have the strongest political skills… that’s Fetter. And I don’t have a large base of support… that’s Graham. It seems like a hopeless cause.” Despite his depressing words however, he was smiling brightly at me.

“Then why are you so happy?” 

“Because you’re by my side.” He chuckled. “Winning isn’t important. We just need to stay alive, and then once they no longer see me as a threat, you and I can go live a life of obscurity in the woods together.” He paused, thinking it over. “Or the desert, if you like, since Blade has named you her successor.”

I shook my head, ignoring the outlandish statement at the end to focus on the point of his words. “So you don’t want the crown?” My tone held some disbelief as I studied his eyes. If he truly never wanted the throne, he could have abdicated at the very start.

Luke didn’t look away, meeting my gaze head on. “I did once.” He admitted it openly, his smile sad. “But it was never for me. It was for my mother.”

“Your mother.” That surprised me. The book had never mentioned her.

“She was from the desert. She and Blade grew up together, but while Blade is a fierce warrior… my mother was the opposite.” He stared down at the ground, a bitter expression taking over his face. “She was kind, loving… far too trusting to be a woman in the Royal Court.”

I pulled his hand into my lap, holding it between my two hands. It was cold, despite the warmer temperature in the garden around us. 

“She loved the king, despite his faults, his many women… his cold nature.” Luke’s eyes closed slowly, hiding the pain I could see in his eyes. “The man cares for no one but himself, but she gave her heart to him. She always hoped that he and I would get along, but I was only ever a disappointment to His Majesty.” He laughed softly, but it was not a happy sound.

“How…?” The question I wanted to ask died on my lips, I couldn’t say the words. I didn’t want to force him to remember, to make him hurt anymore than he already was. But even though I stopped myself, he understood what I wanted to know. Taking a deep breath, he continued to speak, his tone flat, as if discussing a long forgotten history, or the weather, rather than the death of his only family member.

“Poison. I still don’t know who did it. Plenty of people with reason to. My mother was beautiful, favored by the King more than most of the other woman who had born him children. She died slowly, fading away in front of me into skin and bones, and there was nothing I could do. But no matter how much it must have hurt her, she continued to smile, to hope I would live happily without hatred or fear.” His voice cracked towards the end, his eyelashes damp from the tears he was trying to hold back.

I reached out, hugging him tightly, and slowly he lowered his head, resting it on my shoulder. His ragged breath felt warm on my neck as he slowly regained his calm. “So you decided to win the crown to avenge her?”

I felt him nod at my words. “They threw me into the Ninth Lord’s household after her death, beat me, cursed me, humiliated me. A useless prince with no backing. But I didn’t give up. I was going to take everything they wanted. The crown, the country, their power and wealth… I would crush it with my own two hands.” His tone was dark. 

“I had planned it out. Get their guard down by participating in the first two trials, and strike while they are fighting and squabbling for power in the final party. Even if only one of them was the one who murdered my mother, they all stood by and watched, seeing it as one less opponent to fight with rather than the death of an innocent woman. I was going to kill them all.” 

And he had… or at least he had tried in the book. I licked my lips nervously, stammering out my next question. “Umm… Are you still going to do that?”

He lifted his head, his tear stained gaze meeting my own. “Would you hate me if I did?”

“Hate?” I didn’t want him to be a villain. I was horrified still at the thought of him becoming a merciless killer like I had read about before. But even so, I couldn’t help but smile at him. “I can’t hate you. If you choose to turn against this world… I’ll fight them all with you.”  

Maybe I’m the real villain in this story.

A hand reached out and brushed the hair away from my eyes. “I don’t want to see you fight the world for me. So win or lose… I’ll play this game until the end.”

I breathed a small sigh of relief, separating from him and standing up, brushing the dirt from my dress. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” His whisper could barely be heard, “That’s only as long as I can keep you safe. If they try to hurt you…”

I met his gaze, seeing a darkness that I didn’t recognize there. “Luke?”

He sighed, standing up and hugging me briefly, before turning back towards the castle. “Let’s get ready for the party.”

________________________________

 By the time the first party started I was already mentally exhausted. Before we had even left, there was a brief fight over what I would wear. My initial suggestion of wearing camouflage and hiding in the bushes was vetoed, not only by Luke, but the entire service staff. Luke’s suggestion of a purple gown, the color only worn by royalty or those married to royalty was also rejected. We went back and forth a few times before deciding on a low key but expensive gown.

As I walked in a few steps behind Luke, I stared down at my ball gown. It was a little too fancy for a nameless side character, which made me nervous, but looking around at the other women in the room, I felt slightly relieved.  Bright colors, large gems and very low necklines seemed to be in style. The dark green color of my gown was less eye-catching, but reminded me of my previous hunting gear, with a high collar open only at the throat, where a simple silver star necklace lay. The sleeves were long and loose, the skirt billowing out but less voluminous then those around me, the style choices allowing me unrestricted movement.

It wasn’t a bad compromise.

As I looked around the room, I realized that the room had separated into groups, each centered around an older man or woman wearing a red sash with a  golden key attached.

The Ten Lords. 

Now that I was looking at them in person, the plot, which had evaded my memory in the past years suddenly, was more clear. In the book, Graham had used the knowledge gained from all his followers he had saved along the way to sway the Lords to his side. Each girl he had rescued, who was desperately in love with him, conveniently knew how to convince one of the Lords.

At the time, it had irritated me. I thought it was the author’s way of explaining why Graham’s harem and terrible treatment of the girls who cared for him was necessary. But now…

I knew exactly what to say to get the Lord’s on Luke’s side.

Feeling excited, I started walking towards the first group, only to be stopped by a gentle tug on my hand.

“Luke?”

At my questioning glance, he bowed with a bright smile. “May I have this dance?”

“Sure.” Fortunately the dances in this world were fairly simple, not unlike a waltz back in my old life. Finally that ballroom class I took comes in handy! As we danced, we settled into an easy rhythm, and I cast a worried look around the room. 

“Shouldn’t we be… you know…”

Luke chuckled. “Scheming?”

“Yes!”

He shook his head. “It’s only the first party. They’ll use this one to feel us out, see what cards we’re holding. If we’re too eager, they’ll be less likely to side with us in the end.”

“… If I told you, I knew exactly what each of the Lords wanted in exchange for their key, would you believe me?” I felt nervous. Graham believed that Chloe and I had psychic or prophetic powers, which was easier to explain then the concept of living in the world of a fantasy book series, but I had never used the knowledge in front of Luke openly before.

Luke’s gaze was serious as he continued to lead me through the dance. “I believe you.”

“Aren’t you going to ask how I know?” A girl who had been trapped as a slave in the Ninth Lord’s household, and then spent years in the forest hunting. How could I explain my intricate knowledge of the Ten Lord’s motivations?

I could just tell him the truth.

Even as I considered that tempting, terrifying option, he shook his head slowly. 

“I don’t need to know.” Seeing my confusion, he added. “You’re allowed to have secrets.”

“But…”

“So relax during the first party, and we’ll figure out recruiting the Lords in tomorrow night’s event.

The song ended, and Luke stepped away with a small bow. I curtsied in return, but as I straightened up, someone had stepped between us with a wide smile.

“I claim the next dance.”

Graham.

________________________________

Luke shook his head, reaching out to pull him away. “Don’t think about it.”

“Careful, brother,” Evading his grasp, Graham stepped closer to me, grabbing my arm. “If you make a scene here over a woman, it will be hard to gather support from the Lords.”

Luke rolled his eyes at the warning. “Like I care about that. Now let go…”

“It’s fine.” At my words, both men turned towards me, confused. I smiled at Luke, trying to reassure him. “It’s just a dance.”

“Are you sure?” Luke’s eyebrows furrowed as he stared at his brother’s hand which was holding on to me.

“Wait for me.” Pulling my arm from Graham’s grasp, I positioned myself across from him, a much more formal distance than what I had danced with Luke. “Your Highness?”

Graham frowned, but took my hands and began to lead. “Why are you treating me so coldly?”

“… Are you an idiot?” I stared at him as we danced. “You do remember that you tried to drug me last time we met?”

“Only because I love you so much.” His gaze was intense, with more than a little obsession brewing within. It was uncomfortable to face. “And I didn’t succeed, anyways. You drugged me in the end, so actually you owe me.”

I stepped on his foot. Hard. “I owe you nothing. So let’s pretend we don’t know each other.”

“Don’t fight the inevitable, Darling.” His smile widened. “We’re destined to be together.”

Is this the confidence of the main hero of a story? I remembered that in the book he had innumerable women falling in love with him. Perhaps it had messed with his head? Realizing it would be impossible to convince him through logic, I stayed silent, hoping for the dance to end. Unfortunately, Graham kept talking, and was difficult to ignore.

“After the third party, I’ll have the token back, we can announce our engagement then.”

“Don’t be delusional.” I stepped on his foot again, smiling as he winced with pain. “We’re not even friends, much less in a relationship.”

“You’re mine.”

“I’m no one’s. And you have at least eight women who would love to marry you.”

His hands tightened on my own, the grip painful. “I don’t want them.”

“And I don’t want you.” I shrugged. “That’s life.”

“Do you want my brother?” He tried to pull me closer, but I stopped on his foot hard enough to stop the motion.

Yes. “It’s not any of your business who I want.”

“Fine.” He snarled. “I’ll become King, and then you’ll have to listen.”

The song ended, and I gave a sigh of relief. Graham kept holding onto my hands, despite my less than subtle attempts to pull them free. Just as I was considering a more drastic escape strategy, which would involve kneeing him in the testicles, a voice interrupted our silent struggle.

“Brother, how good to see again! How about we trade partners for the next dance?”

I looked over to see an unfamiliar smiling face. He was obviously younger, at most seventeen or eighteen years old, his golden hair and green eyes similar to Graham. But his face was more angular, giving him a sharp, severe look, and his eyes seemed to roam around the room, stopping seemingly at random as he assessed everything before him. I felt his gaze crawl over me, and shuddered with disgust at the delighted light in his eyes.

There’s something wrong with this man.

“Fetter, what are you…?” Graham started to question him, but trailed off in shock as he saw the man’s partner. A very familiar woman.

“Hello, Your Highness.” Chloe, dressed in a long, purple gown, smiled sweetly at him.

“Chloe, you joined Fetter’s side?” I was shocked. As far as I knew, she had disliked that character in Deadly Crown, obsessed over Graham instead. 

At my question she shot be a glare, before recovering her expression. “I happened to get lost in the castle, and Prince Fetter was kind enough to offer to escort me.” She fluttered her eyelashes at Graham. “Shall we dance, Prince Graham?”

I watched, shaking my head as Graham took her hand slowly, studying her dress with a cold expression

He might be an obsessed, egotistical prick, but he’s not an idiot. Graham had been involved in intrigue since he was a small child. His mother was a scheming force to be reckoned with. Did Chloe really think he would trust her once she had shown support for Fetter?

 “Let’s dance.” As i thought it over, Fetter took advantage of my distraction, grabbing my hand and pulling me towards the center of the room, ignoring Graham’s look of anger at his gesture.

________________________________

The music started up again and we began to dance.

“You don’t seem excited.”

“Why wouldn’t I be excited?” I answered in a flat tone. “I get to dance with all three princes today. I’m honored beyond all expression.”

Fetter smiled, the expression making my skin crawl. “Between dancing with the princes in a beautiful ball gown and drinking poison…?”

I thought it over. “I guess it depends on the poison. There are a few that might rank lower than this.”

“I see it.” He laughed. “I wondered why they were so desperate. But I see it now.” He leaned closer. “It’s your eyes. We’ve grown up crooked thanks to that worthless old man on the throne, never knowing what it would be like to have someone treat us as people instead of a tool to be used. Your eyes are refreshingly free of greed and desire. It’s almost as if you have no expectations from this world.”

I followed his lead silently. He was right. I didn’t have any expectations. This world was nothing but a nightmare for me, with the exception of Blade and Luke.  I honestly wasn’t sure how I had gotten here, and if or when I would return. “Your point?” After a long silence, I asked coldly.

“My brothers covet that in you. Want to preserve it, or at least steal it away and hoard it for their own.” 

I lifted an eyebrow. “And what do you want?”

“Me?” His smile grew vicious. “I want to destroy it. Break you into a thousand pieces, and watch them cry as they try to put you back together, only to break you again.”

My blood ran cold. “You’re insane.”

“We all are crazy, darling. Each and every one of us in the Royal family.  Our father wanted it that way.” He shrugged as he danced. “Even your precious Lucien hides his own madness deep down so as not to scare you off. I’m just the most honest about it.”

Stepping away, I ignored the fact that the dance hadn’t ended, I ignored the political implications and the gossip that would be spoke about an unknown woman rudely interrupting her dance with a prince. My mind, my body, my entire being was overwhelmingly consumed by a single need.

To get away from him.

I felt it strongly. A sense of danger. A certainty of death. It hung over Fetter like a cloud, and the longer I stood next to him the more certain I was that I would not escape. I walked quickly, not noticing the mix of concerned and angry stares, until a familiar hand reached out and grabbed my own, startling me.

“Are you okay?” Luke’s face was pale as he studied my own, he looked over at Fetter and I saw hatred flare up deep within his gaze.

We all are crazy.

I shook my head silently.

“We’ll leave early.” Pulling me along, I was surprised, barely able to keep up with his pace.

“But the test...”

“It doesn’t matter.” He didn’t hesitate as he walked away. “None of it does.”

As we moved along, I heard Luke add under his breath. “As long as you’re okay.”

Feeling warm, I squeezed his hand in return, following him back to his rooms. 

________________________________

We sat down, in the dark and silent rooms, facing each other. The rooms were cold with the evening chill, the only light from the moonlight streaming in from the window. But it was enough light to see Luke’s face.

He watched me, his expression concerned, his eyes studying every inch of my features as if to etch them into his memory. There was a hint of panic in his gaze, one hand clutched tightly at his chest as he watched me, as if he was worried that I would disappear the second he looked away.

“Should we run away?” He asked quietly, his voice serious.

“Would they let us?”

“…” He leaned his head forward, laughing bitterly. “This late in the game? They’d be more likely to have us hunt down for fear it was part of a scheme.”

“Then why would you ask?”

Luke stared at me in silence for a few moments, the pain and panic becoming more clear with each passing second. “I don’t want to lose you. I won’t let them even have the chance.” 

Even your precious Lucien hides his own madness deep down so as not to scare you off.

I couldn’t escape the feeling that something terrible was about to happen. Remembering Graham’s obsessed words, Fetter’s undisguised violence… I shuddered, and reached out to hold his hand. 

He was shaking. I held his hand between both of mine, feeling him slowly calm down.

I had run away tonight. I was still afraid of dying. Of being involved in the plot too much. But I wasn’t going to run away again. 

I took a deep breath, letting it out in a long, tired sigh. “We need to talk, Luke.”

He blinked. “About what?”

“About how I got here, why I know so much, and why I refuse to have a name… it will sound crazy. You may not believe me.” I swallowed uncomfortably. “But I think it’s the key to surviving all this madness. Winning the crown if that’s what you want. But... If…after… you want me to leave, I’ll understand.”

“...”

After a brief silence Luke smiled, the expression startling clear despite the fear I could still see in his eyes. “Nothing could be crazy enough for me to want that.”

I didn’t smile back. “Then I’ll tell you about a story… called ‘Deadly Crown.’”

[dessarious]

How the Sirens Adopted a Ladybug Pt5

AO3  Beginning   Previous   Next

They ate mostly in silence with Ladybug refusing to look at any of them. The Kwami were all cuddled up against her obviously trying to offer emotional support. Every time she managed to calm herself down Selina would look over at the girl and her rage would build up again. She was going to have to find an outlet for it in order to stay here.

“So why haven’t you asked for help from the European Justice League?” The full body flinch she got in response gave her a target for that rage. She mumbled something that Selina couldn’t hear. “What was that?”

“I don’t think they believed anything was happening. Eventually they just told me that if I couldn’t handle butterflies I shouldn’t consider myself a hero. They had real problems to deal with.” Oh she was definitely sicking Bruce on those idiots once she figured out what was going on. “In their defense once I cast my cure there’s no visible damage so unless one of them had been here during an attack it really doesn’t seem real.” Great, now she was making excuses for heroes who absolutely should know better.

“I don’t care what they thought, that’s unacceptable behavior. You mentioned something about others that were helping you?” She flinched and curled in on herself.

“You should tell them. Plagg’s right, I think they can help.” Most of the other Kwami looked surprised at Tikki’s words. Ladybug somehow just seemed to get smaller.

“Kiddo, the three of us are the last to judge, trust me. We just want to help.” Harley’s voice was gentle and the girl peeked at her before looking back at her hands. Plagg flew up to her shoulder and was whispering in her ear. Eventually she took a deep breath and pulled her knees into her chest.

“At first it was just Chat Noir and me. It was okay for a while. He was always goofing around and flirting but he was there. But things happened and he didn’t want there to be secrets even though it was for our own safety. The Guardian chose what information we got when and he trusted me more than he did Chat, especially the more he pushed. He let me choose temporary holders and that just pissed Chat off more. He started becoming unreliable. Not showing up to fights, spending patrols trying to convince me to reveal my identity. Then he revealed himself to the other holders and got them to do the same. I refused and he convinced the others that I wasn’t trustworthy. I had to take his Miraculous. Too many people knew who he was. After that I couldn’t use any of the others even if they had been willing and I didn’t know anyone else I could trust. Then the Guardian… he got sick and turned his responsibilities over to me. So now I use whichever Miraculous I need for any given battle.”

“And what about your living situation?” She shook her head but it seemed more like an automatic reaction than an answer.

“That could compromise my identity.” Plagg and Tikki both flew in front of her face with their arms crossed.

“You need to tell them. Keeping your identity from Chat and the others was necessary and as we’ve seen showed good instincts on your part, but this is different.” Tikki’s voice sounded encouraging but strained. Their worry was obvious.

“But-”

“No buts Kit.” Plagg pointed to Selina. “She’s one of mine and there’s no malice toward you in any of them. We’re done watching you suffer alone. Not to mention you haven’t had a chance to breathe in months let alone grieve properly.” Selina shared a confused look with the other two. Plagg referring to her as theirs was odd but she was more worried about the grieving comment. Tears welled in Ladybug’s eyes and she shook her head again.

“I can’t.” The words were choked and the rest of the Kwami cuddled further into the girl while Plagg and Tikki just looked at each other.

“Will you let us tell them?” She hunched in further on herself but before she could say anything Tikki let out a string of what sounded like curses. Selina had no idea what language it was in. “There’s an Akuma.” Ladybug let out a tired breath.

“What time is it?”

“School just started. Which one do you think it is this time?” Plagg’s snark just got annoyed noises from all the Kwami. Ladybug stood and started towards the window. “Kit you’re not transformed.”

“Oh right.” Tikki disappeared and there was another flash of light around the girl.

“Why don’t we go with you? I’d like to see exactly what’s going on.” She frowned in thought.

“If you want, but I need you to stay back and not interfere. It’s bad enough trying to keep the others out of harm's way and I really don’t have the energy to look after anyone else and still defeat the Akuma.” As soon as she said it she was out the window.

“What do you think she meant by others?” Harley sounded like she had a guess at the answer, but wanted someone to give her a different one.

“I have a bad feeling that her former help are still trying to pretend they’re heroes. That or they’re actively trying to sabotage her. Or possibly both.” Given what had been said about Chat Noir, she wouldn’t be surprised.

“We should head out and find a good vantage point.” Ivy was just staring out the window but it seemed like she was looking inward.

“I just need to grab my jacket. And for now we respect her wish for no interference, unless it’s a matter of life and death for her, agreed?” Harley and Ivy both gave a nod but neither looked happy about it. Ten minutes later, as they stood on a roof watching Ladybug taking hits for a bunch of idiots who wouldn’t leave the area, Selina wasn’t either. As soon as the fight was over they moved in closer to see what the morons had to say for themselves.

“Looking a bit ragged there M’Lady. Are you ready to admit you were wrong yet? All I want is an apology and a reveal and things can go back to the way they were.” Selina had to grab Harley to stop her from lunging at the boy who spoke but Ladybug shot him a flat look.

“Go back to what exactly? You refusing to respect my boundaries and throwing tantrums during a fight, or you just not showing up at all?” The boy sputtered indignantly and she turned to leave but a different one, the one who’d been possessed started yelling at her.

“Aren’t you even going to ask what upset me so much I got Akumatized? You used to actually care about people.” Ladybug just crossed her arms and waited. “Someone I thought was my friend just moved away without telling anyone! Can you believe that?” That just brought a confused look from the hero as she scanned the others assembled. For some reason that seemed to annoy the girl more. “Marinette! She just up and left without telling anyone!”

“I’m sorry, did you all just now notice she was gone?” Disbelief was the main thing in her tone, but there was hurt there as well.

“What do you mean just now? Don’t act like it’s our fault she decided to bail on her friends.” Ladybug was just staring at all of them like they’d lost their minds.

“Some friends considering it took you six months to notice she was missing in the first place.” There was a blonde girl leaning against a nearby building that Selina would swear wasn’t there a minute about.

“She’s not missing. Her parents sold their business and the family moved.” The blonde looked like she was going to fire back but Ladybug spoke first.

“Believe what you want, you always do. This is not something I’m going to stand here and argue about. I’m sorry you feel hurt but there’s nothing I can do to help the situation.” She tried to leave again.

“Wait!” The blond practically jogged up to her. “I need to speak with you, alone.” Ladybug hesitated. “Please, it’s important.” The hero searched the girls face for a moment before giving a small nod. The others immediately started shouting at her so she grabbed the other girl and headed to a nearby roof. They followed silently and Selina watched as they both stood awkwardly.

“So what do you need to talk to me about Chloe?” There was a wariness to Ladybug's tone and stance, almost like she expected to be yelled at or attacked. The other girl just seemed nervous.

“A couple things. You knew Marinette was missing, do you know where she is?” Ladybug’s entire body tensed up at the question and Chloe saw it. “I’m not asking you to tell me I just… I just want to know if she’s okay. The police are refusing to look for her, claiming she went to live with relatives out of the country even though her passport hasn’t been used, and she hasn’t touched her back accounts since the day after…” She trailed off, obviously not wanting to finish the thought.

“How do you know she hasn’t… you’ve been using your father’s accounts to check the police progress haven’t you?” She just gave a sheepish shrug. “Why? You hated Marinette.” Chloe flinched.

“No I didn’t. We were rivals sure, and I was overall a bitch yes, but I never hated her. We were just so different and… I mean you’ve met my parents. I was taught from a young age that I was above everyone else and that they should be grateful for my notice. Mari… I couldn’t understand for the longest time why she stood up to me. I know it sounds stupid and I can’t really explain it better.” She sounded frustrated but it actually seemed to calm Ladybug down for some reason. “Look, I understand why she wouldn’t want to come back to school. Those ungrateful peasants made her life a living hell, but it’s like she completely dropped off the face of the earth. I can’t even imagine what losing both her parents in an accident like that must have done to her.”

“She’s okay. She just didn’t want to be sent out of Paris, or put into the system.” It didn’t sound like a lie but Ladybug was refusing to look the other girl in the eye for some reason. Chloe was just frowning in thought.

“If you see her again… tell her I can help if she wants. I know I’m probably the last person she wants to deal with but if she needs a place to stay no questions asked, I’m offering. Daddy has a few judges that owe him favors as well so we can probably get her emancipated so she can at least get to her money without worrying about someone tracking her and putting her somewhere she doesn’t want to be.” Ladybug nodded but from her position Selina could see her fighting back tears. “The other thing I wanted to talk about…”

“Yes?” Chloe still hesitated. She looked worried.

“That comment Adrien made, about you looking ragged… he wasn’t wrong.” Ladybug curled in on herself and Chloe panicked. “I’m not say it as a criticism! Ever since those rejects abandoned you it’s obvious things have been getting worse. I don’t know what you home situation is like but it’s kind of obvious it’s less than great.”

“If you’re going to try and convince me to give you a Miraculous-”

“No! No, it’s nothing like that. I just… here.” She pushed something into the hero’s hand and Ladybug just looked at it in confusion.

“What…” Chloe cleared her throat nervously.

“I had part of my floor renovated into a sort of efficiency apartment. That key is to get in through the balcony. The door that leads to the rest of my suite has multiple locks, including bolts that go into the floor that can only be accessed from the inside.” Ladybug blinked at her, not seeming to process what the girl said. “It’s a safe place… if you need it.” There was a long pause then Ladybug lurched forward, pulling the other girl into a hug.

“Thank you.”  The words were soft, almost inaudible, but the emotion behind them was heartbreaking.

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Ko-Fi

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@asrainterstellar @scorchdragon88 @arty-shadow-morningstar @toodaloo-kangaroo @solangelo252 @smolplantmum @jayjayspixiepop

[adragonhoardingstories]

Daminette AU (Part 8)

"Marinette Dupain-Cheng." She laughed. "Pleased to finally see you coherent."

A deep flush rose up his neck and she giggled. "Thank you for that by the way but advice for the future, it's not prudent to just help out strangers like that in Gotham. It could be a trap."

"Well thank you for the concern. I know it may not seem this way but I can take care of myself."

He seemed like he wanted to argue but thought better of it. Instead, he changed the subject. "Oh, you said you were already to heading to Wayne Tower weren't you? Can I ask what business you have there?"

She smirked. "Well I would tell you but someone just recently told me to be wary of strangers in Gotham."

He laughed. "Okay you got me there."

She giggled. "Well, I'm here on a school trip, we're visiting Wayne Enterprises today."

She barely noticed his eyes widening before he asked another question. "Where is the rest of your class then?"

She snorted. "Believe it or not, they left me behind."

"In Gotham!?" He said outraged.

"I know right." She agreed. "If it was someone else, they would probably have been terrified, lost, in trouble or all three."

He looked thoughtful. "You said if it was someone else and yet I have a feeling you're not just being cocky. "

She raised an eyebrow. "Caught that, didn't you? Well, not many people know this but I'm actually a Gothamite, CPS is what got me to Paris." She winced, changing her accent to her American one. "Couldn't escape them." 

He seemed excited by this revelation. "That certainly explains why you seem so at ease here, only a native can be. Well, on behalf of all of Gotham, welcome back."

"There is no other place like Gotham." She laughed. "This will always be home."

He laughed with her for a bit before resuming his interrogation. 

"How did you get left behind anyways?"

Her smile turned wry. "I know it seems pretty unbelievable, but there's this girl, who's got the whole class along with the staff wrapped around her little finger, which would be fine if she wasn't a liar. I'm literally one of the only persons who can figure out she's lying which is ridiculous because her lies aren't even good ones. I tried to call her out on it and ended up becoming her favourite target. Anyways, she somehow convinced the class to leave an hour earlier than the time we were supposed to. My only friend in that class is jetlagged and probably as tired as you are right now-" she raised the second coffee in her hand for emphasis. "Which is why she didn't notice and warn me until it was too late. I prepared everything for the trip as class president so I know all the details and well I decided why not take the opportunity to take a stroll in my favourite city?"

"Wow." He said and she was happy to note that seemed genuinely to believe her. "Sounds rough."

"Oh, you have no idea." 

Tim pushed the door open for her and she smiled, realising that they were finally at Wayne Tower. 

The building was as if not more impressive than she remembered and she fought the urge to take out the sketchbook and start drawing. 

"Well I guess, this is where our ways part Tim, it was nice meeting you. Please get some sleep." 

He laughed. "Are you so impatient to get rid of me? Just, wait here for a second, I need to have a word with Theresa-" He motioned to the secretary. "-and then I'll escort you to your class, it's the least I can do after youvey helped me."

"Oh, that's not necessary."

"I insist." He gave her disarming smile and walked away before she could protest. 

She sighed and looked around, leaning against the wall. Her hands itched and she finally gave in, taking out her sketchbook from her bag and letting the inspiration guide her. 

She became so absorbed in her work, she didn't notice when Tim made his way back to her. Only once she was done and went to keep her sketchbook back, did she notice the man waiting for her. 

"Oh I'm so sorry, this place is so beautiful, I just needed to get this down. I'm sorry for keeping you waiting." 

He smiled down fondly at her. "It's alright. My little brother is an artist too, I'm used to it. Plus, you didn't take long. I'm a bit surprised actually."

She smiled shyly. "It's just a draft design, I jotted down the things I wanted to go into detail for later."

"You're into design?" He asked while he held another door open for her. 

"I'm a fashion designer actually." 

"Oooh, well I'm not that interested in those things but I've been trying to get an MDC special since a while. I love their work." Marinette flushed a deep red and hoped Tim wouldn't notice it. Fortunately, he didn't, continuing to babble about what aspect of her work he loved. 

Maybe she'd get him VIP tickets to her show. That would be a nice surprise…

"Hey, listen Marinette." Tim stopped in his tracks. "There's something you need to know before we reach your class."

"What is it?" His voice made her wary. 

"I'm ah kind of your tour guide." 

"Oh." She said, and Tim gave her a moment to absorb that information. "Oh." 

He grinned sheepishly when she turned a glare at him. "Surprise!" He did the jazz hands hands and Marinette could help the snort that escaped her. 

"So you're not mad?" He asked. 

"No, but I'm guessing you figured it when I mentioned we were the school from Paris, huh? Well you could've told me before I started ranting to you but eh I guess it's good that you're warned."

She looked at him solemnly and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Good luck, may the Gods be with you."

They stared at each other for a while before they both burst out in a fit of giggles. 

"Okay, so anything else I need to know."

She hummed. "Well Mrs Bustier is not the best teacher, she has too much of a passive attitude and tends to support the offender rather than the victim. Other than that I guess, the only people that'll cause you problems is Miss Lie-La Rossi. I'm willing to bet she says something about knowing one of the Waynes within her first five sentences to you."

"I'll take that bet." He placed a hand on her back and gently pushed her forward. 

"If I win, you gotta come to dinner at mine, I feel like we can be great friends and I feel like all my siblings will love you!"

She raised an eyebrow.

"Okay, but if I win, I'll give you an address and a date you need to show up at without question."

"Seems fair to me." 

She laughed. "What happened to trusting strangers?"

"I think we blew that phase when you gave me the coffee." 

She was about to retort when she heard a very shrill and very familiar voice. 

"I can't believe Marinette has gone to such extents just to get attention. Doesn't she know how dangerous Gotham is?"

She muttered a quick prayer for the Gods to give her strength and caught Tim's face of complete disbelief as the rest started cussing at her.

"I'm guessing that's Lila." He said. 

Marinette offered him no answer, just a grimace as she walked in the room. 

***Italics is for french

"Thank you for your concern." She drawled out. "But I do believe it isn't my fault that you changed the schedule and did not inform me and before you start accusing me of lying, let me remind you that I was the one responsible to plan all of the activities on this trip and as such I have a copy of all the times and places we need to be at."

She ignored the seething crowd and passed Chloe her coffee before turning to Mrs Bustier. "And you, Madame? While I can understand the... excitement of the others to visit such a prestigious industry, as teacher it is your job to ensure that all of your students are there - not to mention the inconvenience you undoubtedly have caused the staff here due to your early arrival."

Her teacher flushed. "Now Marinette, I know that you are more than capable of taking care of yourself and the staff didn't seem to have a problem so please refrain from ruining this day for everyone."

She heard Tim mutter his disbelief, she guessed that he spoke French which is also why he was their tour guide. No one had noticed him yet but she decided not to stretch this out. 

"They are professionals Madame." 

Before things could escalate, she stepped to the side and gestured to Tim. 

"This is Tim Drake, our tour guide."

"Bonjour," He smiled even though to her it seemed strained. "Welcome to Wayne Enterprises. We are honoured to have you with us. The portfolio your class president sent to us was impressive. It's nice to know that the youth of today is interested in helping the world around them and during this trip, well Wayne Enterprises aims to help you in your future career."

It was very obviously a practiced speech to Marinette and Tim didn't seem eager to repeat it but the rest of the class ate it up. 

He caught her eye and they shared a look of understanding as the others started babbling excitedly. 

"Please, I will ask you to remain quiet as we tour so as not to disturb the other employees."

Everyone fell in line and obediently stayed quiet. That lasted for about twenty minutes which was fifteen more than Marinette had expected before Lila started spewing her stories again.

Tim had just finished telling them about the work they did at WE and what they were going to visit. He mentioned that certain labs were off limits to them. That's when Lila started saying that she of course had visited these labs before because the Waynes trusted her.

She could see Tim doing a good job to keep his fury contained. The Waynes were obviously very loved if that's the kind of reaction an employee got after hearing lies about them. 

He seeked her eyes as if to ask whether this was all for real and she offered him a small encouraging smile in return. 

Tim turned to Miss Liar and her entourage and cleared his throat. "Miss Rossi, I presume, as... entertaining as your fictional stories might be, please refrain from speaking about them here. Also, I do remember telling you not to speak up like you are right now so as not to disturb the other employees."

"She looks like she's going to blow." Chloe snickered and Marinette had to agree, Lila was getting redder. 

"How dare you?" She screeched and Marinette had a really good feeling that today was the day Lila was going to start her fall from grace. "My stories aren't fictional. You're probably just a lowly intern but I know all the Waynes personally. I can get you fired!"

"Oh?" Tim's face went blank. "Who do you know in the family?"

"Oh, I know all of them - Dick Drake, Jason Grayson, Tim Todd and Damien Wayne." She felt a surge of anger go through her at the last name but closed her eyes and tried to calm herself. Fortunately, she had more than enough practice to control her emotions and opened her eyes just in time to catch the derisive snort from Tim. 

At that moment, she remembered why exactly he seemed familiar to her and let herself smirk. Chloe nudged her. "You know something." She said knowingly and she only smiled innocently in return. 

She raised an eyebrow in disbelief but turned to watch the drama unfold. 

Tim opened his mouth to speak but someone called out to him. "Mr Wayne!" Marinette turned her head to watch a harried woman come their way. "I'm so sorry for interrupting you through this tour, I know you wanted to deal with this class yourself but something came up with the deal with the Luthors, we need you there asap!"

"Alright, I'll be there in five minutes. I know Jason is here, get him to come take over for me, tell him that I'll owe him one - that ought to convince him."

He turned his attention back to Lila, eyes sharp and in that moment, she couldn't recognize the same sleep deprived man she had helped that morning. 

"And you, Miss Rossi, if you haven't guessed it yet - I am Tim Drake-Wayne, the CEO of this company and I can guarantee all of you that neither I nor my brothers have ever met you."

"How do you know that your brothers have not met her?" Ever so stubborn, was Alya. 

"Because, Miss Cesaire, my brothers names are Dick Grayson and Jason Todd and before you ask, I know all of my youngest brother's friends and she is not part of them. I'm afraid to tell you that she has been lying to you."

Alya looked pissed right then and Marinette couldn't help but feel a bit vindicated. 

"So Miss Rossi, please do continue spreading your lies about us and next time, you'll be contacted by our lawyer."

"Now, now." Miss Bustier intervened and Marinette wasn't even surprised that it was now that she decided to intervene.

"Isn't a lawyer too much? She only said a few lies."

"Her lies can be considered defamation. Those labs she said she had access to are for dangerous or top secret experiments. The fact that we just let a teenage girl in there can damage the reputation of our company and raise question on our policies, so no it isn't too much. We can and will sue her if she lies again and for you Mlle Bustier, I am not impressed with your behavior with your class, I will be pushing for an investigation against you."

Marinette could frankly say that the she found some pleasure in seeing her teacher floundering. She pitied her a bit, but it's what she got for siding with the opressor every time.

And then Tim turned to her, harsh expression fading away to give place to a genuine smile as he walked towards her. 

"As for you, I can't thank you enough for this morning." 

"It was nothing." Marinette waved it off  but then, she smiled teasingly, piecing together what he was doing. "Well if I knew you were a Wayne, I'd have made you pay for the coffee."

 Tim laughed, taking it for the joke it was. "Can you give me your phone?"

She raised an eyebrow but handed it over silently; when he returned it, she had a new contact under Sleep Deprived.

"You won our bet." He said as an explanation. "But please, if you have any trouble in Gotham, feel free to call me."

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

A Miraculous TikTok Account

Part 8

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Chloe really didn’t know how they’d lost Carapace.

They’d talked about borders for a while and he’d been perfectly fine keeping out of the conversation, and then they’d gotten distracted by Ladybug and Rena saying that fairy lights weren’t necessary, and then he was gone.

… maybe they’d lost Carapace when they were debating exactly how important fairy lights are to the aesthetic. Who knows.

Still, it had been a bit weird when she had casually turned around and not seen the turtle following along behind them.

Had they left him behind? He walked kind of slow, it was entirely plausible… or had he wandered off on his own free will?

One of those was a problem. The other was not.

Chloe pulled out her phone and pulled up the hero group chat.

Queenie: Hey, Carapace, where’d you go?

She doubted she’d get an answer. No one under forty ever has their ringer on --.

Chat’s phone dinged and Chloe rolled her eyes. Someone needed to revoke Chat’s Teen Card.

Chat’s eyes flicked over his phone and then a frown graced his face. He looked around.

“Oh. You’re right. He’s gone…”

Ladybug blinked and looked up. “Should we try and find him?”

“I mean… he is an adult…?” Said Rena slowly, though she didn’t seem all that sure what to do either. The two self-appointed responsible ones started debating quietly.

(Chat used this chance to drop some fairy lights into the cart and hide them under some things. Good for him.)

None of them were all that concerned, of course. Carapace was just as capable a hero as the rest of them, and what kind of trouble could he really get into at Home Depot?

Still, they eventually split up to look for him. After all, they were ready to check out. They’d get whatever Carapace had found, pay, and leave. Simple as that.

Except things never were simple for them.

Chloe frowned as she came upon Carapace and… someone. She was a lot older than him. She hoped he wasn’t trying to chat the lady up.

She pulled out her phone to alert the others.

Queenie: Found him by the paper stuff still.

She leaned back against the nearest wall and started scrolling through her phone absently. It was fine that he was talking to someone, Chloe could wait until he was done…

Wait, no, something was wrong. She lowered her phone a little to look at them.

They were talking in relatively pleasant tones, but there was a tenseness in both of their shoulders that gave Chloe pause.

“A kid like you shouldn’t be left alone…”

A kid like him?

Her eyes narrowed.

“I can handle myself, thank you. I’m Carapace.”

She scoffed lightly. Really? Was he really pulling the Carapace card? Lame. Only she could pull stuff like that.

“And I’m Ladybug,” responded the lady, apparently just as unimpressed about the attempt as Chloe was…

But Chloe couldn’t help but be uncomfortable about the interaction. Something was deeply wrong, she just didn’t quite know what.

“Okay, ma’am, help would be nice, I guess…” Carapace caved.

She frowned a little at that. Honestly, how was he a hero? So meek and quiet, sometimes she found it odd that he would even face the akumas.

But, hey, if he wasn’t going to stand up for himself then she’d be glad to do it for him. He was the only tolerable one in the house and she wasn’t just going to let people walk all over him.

She pulled her mask off (hers was really only for aesthetic purposes, to make them look like a matching set, anyways) and set it in her bag and fluffed her hair a little. There. Now she should look like she usually did on TV.

She marched over, pulling an annoyed frown to her face (this wasn’t hard). “Hey, idiot, I looked everywhere for you.”

The lady’s eyes went wide as they landed on the mayor’s daughter and the only out hero of Paris.

“You’re actually… I’m so sorry, sir, I didn’t know!”

Carapace’s forced smile dropped into a more sincere, almost apologetic smile. “It’s okay, ma’am. I wouldn’t have believed me, either.”

Chloe, however, didn’t soften in the slightest. “Oh, so now that you know he’s Carapace you’re sorry?”

“Chloe, it’s fine.”

“Is it? What were you going to do if he wasn’t Carapace?”

The woman looked uncomfortable as she mumbled another apology.

Chloe was about to go off on her some more, but a hand on her arm made her stop.

She turned to look and saw that all the other miraculous holders were there, too, and they looked to be bracing themselves for a fight. (Ladybug had even transformed, though it was hard to tell the difference.)

She squeezed her eyes shut. She hated everything that was going on in that moment, but she hated the idea of being the first to get akumatized since moving in even more.

So, she pulled herself together. Once she was sure that her emotions had dulled to a low enough hum that Hawkmoth wouldn’t detect it, she sent the woman a cold look.

“I hope you have a safe weekend, mademoiselle.” She settled for mild passive-aggression. Paris was full of that at this point. She was sure the woman caught on.

She whipped around and pulled Carapace away by the sleeve of his hoodie.

“You really shouldn’t let that kind of stuff slide.”

“It’s fine,” he said calmly. “I’m used to it.”

“That’s even worse!”

He rolled his eyes a little and waved to Rena and Ladybug as they got closer. “Hey, guys, it’s time for my favorite game! Do you think she was racist, classist, or just wary of teens?”

Rena laughed a little. “Did you SEE her? Definitely racist.”

“Well, if she was a classist she’d have to think you were pretty low. She’s working at Home Depot,” said Ladybug after a second’s thought. “Could still be a teen thing, though.”

“No way! She singled him out.”

“That makes sense.” Carapace gave Chloe a shrug. “See? It’s normal.”

Chloe was steadily getting more and more horrified. Why were they so… casual about it all? Carapace was joking? Rena was laughing? Even Ladybug seemed a little amused? Even if it actually was normal for them, it definitely shouldn’t be…

Her eyes met Chat’s and she was glad to find that he also seemed to think what was going on was absolutely insane.

But could they really say anything about how they were dealing with it? They weren’t exactly in a marginalized group.

No. Probably not.

“Why’d you run off, anyways?” Said Rena.

Whether the change in subject was intentional or just her natural need to know everything, Carapace seemed happy to indulge her. He held up some purple butterfly cut-outs. “We can use this for the board.”

“Oh. That would be cute,” said Chat slowly.

Ladybug had gone a little red behind her mask, and if anyone else noticed they didn’t feel the need to comment.

“Ready to go?” Said Rena.

Ladybug sifted through the things a little to make sure they had everything they’d need, much to Chat and Chloe’s dismay. When her eyes landed on the fairy lights she blinked a little…

And then she pressed her lips together and continued searching.

Chloe and Chat beamed.

“I think we have everything. Let’s get out of this place.”

~~~

Taglist

@nathleigh @mialuvscats @sassakitty @th1s-1s-my-aesthet1c @blueslushgueen @woe-is-me0

[imthepunchlord]

Colors of Grey: Villains

@felinettenovember

It was done.

He was on the floor, out, exposed, and his miraculous lying far away from him. There was no more threat of him making the wish, of having both. 

The ring was safe with Adrien, and the earrings were in her hand. They made it, it was finally over. 

It was done. 

Till she had a hard push at her back, sending her to the ground, the earrings falling from her hands. She turned, looking up to see Adrien picking them up, turning his gaze to her, apologetic but firm. 

“I’m sorry,” he uttered as he put the earrings on...

.

.

.

Sometimes, it doesn’t feel like life was right. Like, it was... off. 

Which, honestly was crazy. How could it be off? Life wasn’t fair, but her sense of reality shouldn’t be off. But, sometimes, it felt that way to Marinette, and it felt the most like it whenever she got to see the Agrsete family. The latest ad for their upcoming magazine was on a stand, Adrien Agreste modeling with his mother, looking like he had the whole world of happiness with him. 

And Marinette, she felt a little envious. And something about seeing him just... upset her? An echo of hurt and anger that she couldn’t place. 

She never followed through with the emotion, had no reason to. But she can’t deny that there was a... want to. 

There was a growl above, and she felt Nooroo peek out from her purse, turning his big eyes to her. “You need to hurry,” he whispered, “you don’t want it to rain on the flowers, do you?” 

“No,” she agreed, moving on quickly to the hospital. She was able to make it in time, just missing the rain. She started to head to the room, only to stop, feeling a rush of upset in front of her. Moving a little ways out of sight so she won’t be caught on camera, she murmured, “Wings rise.” 

She slipped out quietly into the hall, coming across a woman at the desk, her shoulders sagging, face in her hands. She didn’t cry. She didn’t make a sound, just taking the moment to wallow. 

“What’s wrong?” 

The woman jumped, looking up and gasping at the girl before her, dressed in purple. “Y-you’re...” 

“Just a visitor,” the girl eased, pulling a chair over and seating herself down. “What’s wrong, if I may ask?”

The woman stared at her, wary. Rumors of this phantom were all over Paris, bringing “fairies” to the city, fairies that came and went. They were reported, but nothing was made official. Seeing her now, the woman can say for sure that this phantom truly did exist, before her now, peering at her with gentle violet eyes. 

With those gentle eyes and the reassuring aura this phantom, the words slipped out easily. “The mayor’s cutting our funding.” 

Those eyes sharpened, narrowing. “Why is that?” 

“He says he there’s not enough, but we all know its to fund his daughter’s party.” 

The phantom closed her eyes, lips pursing a bit, and the woman felt anger starting to trickle in. “We need that money. Lives are at stake. He can’t just...” the woman cut herself off, her breathing uneven.

“He can’t,” the phantom agreed. “But you can do something about.” The woman looked up, seeing a glowing little butterfly like creature in the phantom’s hand. It took off, flying towards her, starting to flutter around her. 

“You can be a fairy, for the day,” the phantom said. “You can have the power to do what you need to.” 

“I can make a change,” the woman whispered, reaching for the little sprite. 

“You can do what you need to,” the phantom encouraged, her voice growing fainter to the woman’s ears... 

.

.

.

Life was perfect. 

Is what Adrien would want to say, but it isn’t as perfect as he expected. This mother was back, and with it, his confinement.  She stood strong that he was to stay inside, that all he needed was in the mansion. And his father, no longer a villain, still lacked the warmth Adrien hoped he would see. 

There was no one from his old life that he could see aside from Chloe, and he was back to the long, lonely, stifling days. 

It didn’t get better when his mother thought having Felix coming to live with them would help make him less lonely. From what he remembered from the previous life, Felix was the last company Adrien wanted. And yet he was here, and there was little Adrien could do about his dark shadow. 

Especially now, where he also had Chloe for company. With these two, it was unbearable. He missed his friends. He missed his lady love. 

Marinette. 

He had assumed getting his perfect life meant he could find her again, that she’ll fall for him this time and they’ll be together like they’re meant to be. Even in this life, it doesn’t change that they were Ladybug and Chat Noir, two halves of a whole bound to be together. And now that he knows who she is, he can take a more correct approach in winning her over. 

There was a jab at his shoulder, and Adrien had a start, looking over to see Felix’s frosty grin. “We’re here,” he said. 

“M Bourgeois,” Adrien called out, coming into the mayor’s room, Felix right behind him, silently judging him. “Chloe’s ready for you to make your...” 

Adrien trailed off, stiffening up with a gasp, feeling cold and scared. 

There was the mayor on the ground, moaning in pain with an akuma prowling around him, whispering and mocking him. “It’s a shame that the funding for the hospital got cut. We could’ve helped you, if we had that money instead.”

Adrien didn’t sense Felix backing away, more caught up in the old instinct he had to seeing an akuma. He called to it, jeering, “What a way to kick him while he’s down.” 

The akuma had a start, and Adrien heard Felix hiss, “What are you doing?” 

As it turned to him, Adrien he didn’t have the ring. He had no way to defend himself. 

But the akuma didn’t charge at him, luminous pink eyes taking him in, a butterfly symbol coming to hover over her face before it left, as if disinterested. “He needs to be kicked down, little Agreste. He’s kicked so many down, even when they were at their lowest, haven’t you,” the akuma cooed with vile jeer, bending down to pat the mayor’s head. 

When Adrien took a brave step forward, willing to do what he can, warning, “Step away, akuma.” 

The akuma glanced his way, brow raised. She stood, head tilting to the side. “Akuma?” she repeated, “I am no akuma, I’m a fairy. And my thirteenth hour is coming to an end. But fear not, I will be back to see you again.” 

“Y-you don’t have to!” the mayor cried out. “I won’t cut the funding! T-the hospital will have its funds back! And more!” 

The fairy smiled, pleased. She dispersed into a glowing pink smoke and went out the window. When she was gone, the mayor sagged in relief, no longer tortured. Adrien followed after it, watching that smoke drift down into a crowd. He couldn’t see who the “fairy” was, but he did see a glowing butterfly drift away, then turned into a rush of white-pink-purple light, zipping away, way too fast for Adrien to follow. 

He frowned, realizing that Hawk Moth has returned, though he didn’t think it was his father... But an optimistic hope followed it. If Hawk Moth was back, Ladybug and Chat Noir will need to answer the call once more. 

They’ll be Ladybug and Chat Noir again! 

He’ll get his freedom! 

And he’ll win her heart properly, this time. 

This was going to work out after all, Adrien thought contently as Felix helped the mayor back to his feet behind him. 

.

.

.

Marinette gently moved the flowers about, making sure they were perfect. Nooroo floated near, helping her a little bit. He turned, seeing his magic return, coming to rest on Marinette’s shoulder, earning a soft smile. 

“Well done, little fairy,” Marinette praised as her miraculous, a gift from her Nonna (a little fairy for her fairy), glowed softly and the butterfly was gone. To the patient before, she reassured, “We got our funding back. Now you and everyone else that needs it will have it.” 

The patient made no comment, sleeping deeply and soundly, his warm green eyes now kept close. It was a blow to see her Papa like this, so still, near lifeless except for his slow breathing. 

She’s tried everything, but not even fairies will wake him up, Nooroo confirming that this is a force that not even his power can get a leg up on. 

“Just hold on a little further, Papa,” Marinette murmured, coming around and grasping his hand, seeing it start to go a little hollow, the bones far more defined than they should be. “I’ll find a way to wake you, I promise.”