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marauderundercover · 3 years

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Taking Chances Ch. 19: Lack of Communication (Wayne Gala)

AO3

The shrill ringing of her phone tugs Marinette from her sewing machine. Glancing at the caller ID, she grins widely.

“Hey Uncle Jagged.” She says, pushing her chair away from her desk. It’d been a couple weeks since she last heard from the man as his tour had really picked up at the end. It was practically back to back concerts, so that didn’t leave a lot of time for phone calls or face times.

“Little Rocker! Glad I caught you. I have an event next week and I was hoping I could drop by the bakery so you could fix a tear in one of my suits.” He says. Marinette winces. That’s what she was supposed to do. Tell Uncle Jagged about...well, everything.

“Yeah, about that…” She trails off, wishing she’d thought to tell him about the whole ‘adopted’ thing the last time she’d seen him in person. “I’m actually not in Paris right now. I’m in Gotham spending the summer with my birth father.” She says, deciding to just rip the bandaid off. There’s silence for a minute. Then two. She looks down at the phone, frowning. Did he hang up?

“You’re in Gotham?” He finally says.

“Yup.” She says, sighing. “I’m really sorry I won’t be able to fix your suit.”

“What, no, this is great! See the event is in Gotham! It’s just a bunch of rich people and- hold on. Penny!” He yells. She catches bits and pieces of their conversation, Penny agreeing wholeheartedly with whatever it is Jagged has suddenly decided. “I have a rocking idea.” He adds.

“Okay? I’m listening.” She says, glancing at the new dress she’d started that was pinned on her dress form. She was having trouble with the shape and was quickly getting frustrated with her struggles.

“You could come with! As MDC, of course. You could wear one of your designs and get known in Gotham. The event is supposed to be highly publicized. Penny thinks it’d be a good way to get known in the US. So, whatdya say?” Jagged asks, and Marinette can just tell that he’s grinning widely, can hear it in his voice. She thinks for a minute, glancing at the dress form with a new sense of determination.

“I’ll have to double check with my dad.” She says, trying to think if they had any plans for next week.

“Of course! Let me know soon, okay? Penny says she wants to start publicizing MDC’s appearance if you’re gonna come.” Jagged says. Marinette agrees before hanging up, thinking. Would her dad let her go alone? Or would he insist on coming with? She knew Gotham was dangerous, it’s why she hadn’t gone anywhere by herself despite being a hero herself. She didn’t want to risk her Miraculous falling into the wrong hands, even if the person didn’t realize what they had. Making up her mind, she sets off to find her dad and ask about the event. She still wasn’t quite sure what it was, just that there would be plenty of big names and plenty of journalists- the perfect opportunity to build up a clientele outside of France. Checking his study first, she’s unsurprised to see he’s not there. Knowing chances were good that he was in the cave, she pulls a domino mask out of her purse. Her dad had asked her a couple days ago to wear one in the cave just in case they had unexpected visitors. Kinda like how her and Chat Noir had shown up unexpectedly that one time. Complete accident. Changing the time on the clock, she presses the button that opens the entrance, sliding in and walking through the passage. Glancing into the cave, she grins when she sees her dad, in costume, sitting at the computer.

“Hey B!” She says, knowing not to call him Dad while he was in the cowl. Something about it making him seem less intimidating, or something.

“Ladybird.” He nods. She frowns, glancing at the computer screen and wincing when she sees Superman on screen.

“Sorry, I didn’t know you were busy.” She apologizes, waving awkwardly at the man on the screen. He quirks an eyebrow.

“Hello. Ladybird, was it?” He asks and she nods.

“Er, yeah. Ladybird. Nice to meet you.” She says, rocking back and forth on her heels, eyes darting around the cave. Maybe she should just leave and ask later.

“Is everything alright?” Her dad asks, obviously confused at her presence in the cave. Not that she wasn’t allowed, she just didn’t spend a lot of time there.

“I was just wondering if I could go to an event next week with my Uncle.” She says, trying to stay vague. He’s silent for a moment before nodding.

“We can discuss details later, but that should be fine.” He says. Marinette grins, bouncing up and down in excitement.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” She cheers, resisting the urge to hug him. “Bye Mr. Superman!” She adds, waving before running back through the passage to work on her dress some more. This was going to be amazing!

---

Penny had picked Marinette up early the morning of the Gala. She still wasn’t sure what it was for, but that didn’t bother her. She was just excited that she had finally finished her newest dress in time for the Gala. Penny had insisted on her coming over early so that she could help Marinette do her hair and makeup, which she was thankful for. Selina apparently had something to do tonight and couldn’t help her, and she would’ve definitely been her first choice. Smiling down at her dress, Marinette looks at Penny with a grin.

“Could you take a picture for me without my face covering so I can show my parents later?” She asks. Penny nods, smiling back.

“That dress is amazing, Marinette. Truly one of your best designs.” She says. Marinette blushes at the compliment before smiling at the camera. She thanks Penny and takes her phone back, sending the picture to her Maman and Papa as well as her dad and Selina. She was extremely proud of the dress and wanted them to see her in it before she added her ‘disguise’ to protect her identity.

“Hey, Aunt Penny?” Marinette says, looking up at the woman. Penny hums, putting on lipstick. “What is the event for? All Jagged said was that it’s a Gala.” She says, Penny huffs.

“Of course that man didn’t give you any other information. Honestly, sometimes- you agreed without knowing what the event was?” She says, eyebrows raised. Marinette shrugs.

“Uncle Jagged said that it’d be fun. I trust him.” She says. Penny sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Remind me to read any contracts before you sign them, okay sweetie?” She says. Marinette nods and Penny smiles. “Good. Anyway, it’s a Wayne Gala. The family hosts several every year to help raise money for the Wayne foundation.” Penny says and Marinette freezes. Wayne Gala? As in, her father? Her family? Were they really having a Gala tonight without telling her? Or inviting her? Were they….were they embarrassed by her?

“Like, Bruce Wayne?” Marinette manages to ask, trying hard to ignore the way her heart breaks when Penny nods. That was why Selina couldn’t help her. She had to get ready for the Gala. And if she had to guess, the rest of her family was also going. What would they have done with her if she hadn’t had plans? Would they have told her then? Or would they have acted like nothing was happening. Where even was the Gala? Oh my god. It was at the Manor, wasn’t it. The thought strikes her and she winces, giving Penny a small, tense smile.

“Are you okay?” She asks, obviously concerned. Marinette nods sharply.

“Yes, one last question. Where is it?” She asks. Penny frowns, obviously not believing that Marinette was okay, but luckily not pushing it.

“Wayne Manor. The Galas are the only time the manor is opened to other celebrities. The family is usually very private.” Penny says. Marinette huffs out a puff of air, working hard to ignore the hurt in her chest. The feeling that she wasn’t enough. That they didn’t need her. Suddenly, she wasn’t excited anymore. She really wished she would have asked Jagged for more details last week, because now she was stuck going. And it was going to suck.

---

Feeling confident in her design and disguise, Marinette walks through the wall of journalists with Penny and Jagged at her sides. She was working hard to push down the intrusive thoughts that were threatening to take over. Instead, she tried to focus on the questions being called out by the journalists.

“Jagged! Jagged Stone, is this really MDC?” One of them asks. Jagged immediately stopping and shooting the reporter a wide smile.

“Of course it is! She designed all three of these outfits.” He says, gesturing between the trio. “Isn’t she rocking!”

“MDC, why did you pick the Wayne gala to make your first public appearance?” Another journalist asks. Marinette turns to Penny, trusting her to answer the question. They’d agreed before leaving the car that it was best if Marinette didn’t speak directly to any journalists. It would make it easier for them to place her age and where she’s from, given her accent.

“She was in the area and Mr. Stone insisted his favorite designer needed a chance to flaunt her skills in America.” Penny says, flashing the journalist a wide smile before gently pushing Marinette along down the line of journalists. Marinette nods to the man who’d asked the question before following Jagged and Penny closely, her stomach churning as they walk up the front steps of the manor. Of the place she’d been living since summer started. Where apparently they didn’t care to tell her about one of the biggest family events of the year. No big deal. She thought they were accepting her, that they were all getting closer. But maybe not. Her dad not telling her didn’t hurt nearly as much as her brothers not telling her. That felt like a knife in her chest. Trying hard to move gracefully instead of tensely, she follows Jagged into the manor and into the ballroom. Her jaw clenches as she spots her family across the room.

“Mr. Stone, I’m Clark Kent. Nice to meet you.” A man with a notebook and camera says, walking over and extending a hand. Marinette narrows her eyes. She thought the journalists were supposed to stay outside. And this man looked oddly familiar….

“Rocking meeting you man! You a journalist?” He asks, his calculating look hidden by a wide grin. Mr. Kent chuckles.

“Yes, sorry for being so forward. Mr. Wayne and I are friends, so he lets my wife and I have an exclusive pass to come inside the Galas.” He says, glancing at Marinette over his glasses. She watches as his eyes widen slightly before he schools his features back into a neutral expression.

“That’s pretty rock n roll of him!” Jagged says, clapping Mr. Kent on the shoulder.

“It is. Pardon me, but are you MDC?” He asks, turning to look at Marinette once again. She glances at Penny, shaking her head to let her know that she’ll speak for herself for this one. As upset as she was with her dad, he obviously trusted this man. So she would as well.

“I am. Pleasure to meet you, Monsieur Kent.” She says, extending her hand. He smiles, shaking her hand.

“And you, ma’am. I must say, I was not expecting to see you here. I was under the impression that in person events weren’t your forte.” He says, clearly fishing for something. She knew how journalists worked, she’d seen Alya at work enough times to understand that the man in front of her was looking for a story. One she wouldn’t be giving, no matter how much her father trusted the man.

“I like to occasionally surprise people.” She says, waving her hand in a noncommittal way. “Keep them on their toes.”

“I can respect that. Well, I’ll let you all get back to your evening. Nice to meet you all.” He says. She nods back at him, not missing the way he immediately darts off to her dad. She watches as the two start talking, a surprised look on her dad’s face before he turns and sees her. She knows he recognizes the dress. Knows that he knows as well who is underneath the veil. She turns, deciding to ignore him. He didn’t want her here, fine. She’d make sure she stayed out of his way.

---

Clark Kent was confused. He’d known that Bruce must have another kid, adopted in some way. He didn’t just work with random vigilantes, especially not in his city. So knowing that Gotham had a new vigilante named Ladybird, he put two and two together. Didn’t take the world’s greatest detective. But what was confusing was the fact that no new faces showed up with the Waynes as they walked into the ballroom for the Gala. Making a note to ask him about it later, Clark makes his way around the room, talking to familiar faces and names, writing things down that would help the story he was being forced to write on the Gala. These events were not his favorite to cover, hardly anything ever happened. Until he heard the commotion outside, other journalists calling out to MDC. He blinks in surprise. MDC had never made a public appearance before. This was an odd one to choose. Preparing himself to confront the designer, he’s surprised as she walks in behind Jagged Stone. He’s even more surprised when he realizes she had to be a teenager. He chats with the girl and Jagged, glancing down at her over the top of his glasses, shock immediately flooding him. The girl had injuries. Hundreds of them. Bones fused back together haphazardly. Quickly excusing himself, he rushes over to Bruce.

“Do you know who MDC is? Because that girl is definitely younger than Tim. And she has hundreds of injuries, Bruce. Hundreds.” He says quietly, watching as Bruce turns and glances at the girl, his eyes widening slightly.

“Shit.” He mutters.

“What?” Clark asks, trying to figure out if he should also be concerned. Bruce smiles, but it's tense.

“That is my daughter.” He says. Clark blinks.

“That’s the new one? Why didn’t she show up with the rest of the family?” He asks.

“I knew she had plans for tonight, so I didn’t tell her about the Gala. I was going to warn her about it, if she didn’t have plans. So she knew to stay in her room.” Bruce explains. Clark frowns.

“You were going to keep her locked up?” He asks incredulously. Not even the least social Wayne was kept locked away for the Galas.

“Of course not. It’s just- she hasn’t said she wants to be announced yet. She hasn’t even said anything about being MDC because she hates the spotlight. I couldn’t just throw her to the sharks. I’m just trying to do what’s best for her.” Bruce says, standing up straighter. Clark sighs.

“Did you actually talk to her about it? Or did you just assume?” He asks, Bruce huffs.

“I think I know my daughter a little more than you do, Kent.” He says.

“Really? Because from here it sounds like she’s about two breaths away from a panic attack. And Penny Rolling keeps reassuring her that they don’t have to stay long. Oh- and now she’s apologizing for not telling her it was a Wayne Gala until today, but she’s also clearly confused as to why it’s upsetting her. And now-”

“Okay, I get it.” Bruce snaps, cutting him off. Clark raises an eyebrow.

“I’m not sure what happened, but you should fix this.” He says with a pointed look before walking away. God knows the Bats all need a push in the right direction every now and again.

---

Jason frowns as he looks around the room for Marinette. He knew that she hadn’t come with the family, B hadn’t explained that one. But he had heard that MDC was there. And he wanted to talk to her, make sure she was doing okay. These things were annoying as hell and he knew he wouldn’t get through it if he didn’t have his brothers (even if they were little shits). He finally spots her near a wall, clearly trying to disappear. He grins widely, walking over and grinning at her.

“Well, MDC, fancy seeing you here.” He teases with a wink. He watches her for some kind of reaction, frowning when he doesn’t get one. “Pix?” He says, softer this time as he looks at his baby sister.

“Oh, that’s right, I wasn’t supposed to be here, was I? Well, sorry to disappoint.” She snaps bitterly. Jason flinches back, surprised at her tone.

“What’re you talking about?” He asks, eyebrows furrowed. Why did she sound so hurt? Why did she think they didn’t want her there?

“Clearly I’m not as much of the family as I thought I was.” She hisses under her breath. He starts to deny that, but she cuts him off with a humorless laugh. “Bruce didn’t even tell me that there was a Gala. None of you did either. A Wayne family Gala and I wasn’t told. I should’ve known better.” She says, turning to walk away. He grabs her wrist gently, stopping her.

“I promise you, we want you here. Dick, Damian, Tim, me- we all want you here. I can’t speak for B, I’ll definitely be having words with the son of a bitch later, but we want you here.” He says, frowning as he listens to her sniffle under her veil. “Pixie, we thought you knew. He told us you weren’t ready to come to this. I swear to you, we would have told you if we knew. I swear.” He adds. His heart breaks as he hears a hiccupped sob break free from her. He wants nothing more than to wrap his baby sister in a hug, but he knows he can’t. Media’d have a field day.

“Really?” She asks in a small voice. Jason nods.

“Hell yeah Pix. Tell ya what, I’m gonna go get the others and then we’re all gonna sneak out. Take one of the old man’s cars and get some garbage fast food. Who needs this lameass party anyway.” He says, hoping she’ll agree. He’ll let himself be mad at Bruce later. And boy was he gonna be mad. The old man had really fucked up this time. It was one thing to ask Mari to not go to the Gala, or to think she wasn’t ready for it. It was a completely other thing to not even give her the chance to decide, or tell her at all. Cause now she was hurt and thinking everyone hated her. Well, he wasn’t gonna let that happen. Not on his watch.

“Lemme just go tell Jagged and Penny real quick.” She agrees, scurrying off. The second she walks away Jason lets his smile drop into a scowl. That son of a bitch. Storming over to his brothers, he tugs them over to the wall. Better not to let B get word of where they’re going.

“What is the meaning of this?” Damian asks with a scowl.

“Pixie’s gonna tell her Aunt and Uncle that she’s leaving and then we’re stealing one of B’s cars to go to McDonalds.” He says simply. Tim frowns.

“And we’re doing this because?” He prompts.

“Because B apparently didn’t tell the kid about the Gala. And she assumed we knew, and that we all hate her.” Jason explains with a frown.

“Father said she didn’t want to attend.” Damian says, and Jason huffs.

“Yeah, well apparently he lied. She had no clue that the event she was going to as MDC was a Wayne Gala.” He says.

“I’ll go get the car and pull it up front.” Dick says, a determined look on his face. Sometimes his ‘we’re a family and we stick together’ shit annoyed the hell outta Jason, but he was thankful for it today.

“I’m gonna go grab Selina’s coat for her to put on. I saw her dress, and if any MDC fan sees her leaving with us it’s gonna start a media circus.” Tim says, walking away to the coat room. Jason sighs, watching Marinette from across the room. A cleared throat beside him tugs his attention back to his youngest brother.

“What?” He asks, pushing his frustration down. He’d go shoot something later, but right now he was determined to not take his frustration at Bruce out on his siblings.

“Why would Father intentionally keep her from the Gala? She is far more adept at social interaction than I am.” Damian says with a frown. Jason sighs, shrugging.

“No clue. But I’m not about to let her push herself away from the rest of us just because B fucked up.” He says, watching as she walks over to the wall, almost disappearing in the shadows. He nods towards her, making sure Damian follows. The second Tim has Selina’s coat, their small group is off, sneaking out one of the side doors and walking past the journalists, sprinting to Dick and the waiting car. They all jump in and she tears the veil off her face, making Jason wince slightly at her red, puffy eyes. Dick slams on the gas, eliciting a curse from Jason and a squeal of surprise from Marinette.

“So! We broke out of that stuffy party. Where are we headed?” Dick asks, glancing in the rearview mirror to make eye contact with Jason. Jason grins.

“We go get a shit ton of junk food from McDonalds and eat it in the car. Give it the old, fast food smell that B loves oh so much.” He says. Marinette snorts, and Jason grins at her. He’d give B hell later, but for now, he was going to enjoy spending time with his siblings.

---

Bruce frowns as he glances around the Gala, not seeing his daughter. Or any of his other children. He made a mental note to talk to them later. Perhaps keeping the Gala from Marinette wasn’t his best decision.

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folkloreguk · 4 years

Text

Paris (optional bias)

A/N: This is just something short I’ve had in my drafts for so long and I’ve finally finished it...there’s not much storyline but I swear it’s really sweet and I hope you like it x

genre: photographer!bias, suggestive themes, some kissing and cuddling, just two people on holiday and deeply in love tbh (pls send me some tissues)

words: 1.4 k

“Stay still baby,” he demanded, but not in a rough tone. It was gentle, a little sleepy. You chuckled, hearing the familiar click.

“You look so gorgeous in this light,” he mumbled, his face hidden behind his camera. The curtains of the hotel room were pulled away slightly, so the golden evening light could enter. You were going to get up, but now you fell back into bed, giving in to your boyfriend. Your hair was messy, your makeup even messier. Your clothes were everywhere but on your body.

For a moment you gazed at your boyfriend as he tried to photograph you from the perfect angle. He’d always preferred watching the world through a lens rather than just his eyes. Until you had come along. In you, he had found a new challenge. Oh, how many times you had heard him complain about how he couldn’t seem to capture your beauty in a photo. As if you were some part of nature that simply was too beautiful to fit into a picture. He had compared you to the night sky, a roaring waterfall, the light of the setting sun and fireworks – all his favourite things, basically. Although you didn’t agree. When it was hard to see your beauty in the mirror, one look at the collection of photos on your wall sufficed. Seeing yourself through his eyes made you feel like you were enough. More than enough, in fact. You understood a little better what he saw in you, and slowly you had also started seeing the good, beautiful things in yourself.

It had been a year since he had asked you to be his girlfriend. For your anniversary, you had booked a trip – your first holiday together, in fact. Now it was just the two of you, together, in a strange city. Without a care in the world. That’s what you had agreed on.

You spent your time in bed, exploring the streets where even tourists weren’t found, trying all of the local food and then spending more time in bed. As always, your boyfriend couldn’t put his camera down. Not even in his holidays. But you didn’t mind because you knew it made him happy. And when he was happy, so were you.

His hair was probably even messier than yours, but it made you smile to know you had made it that way. He grinned, watching you through his lens.

“Can I please go to the bathroom now?” you asked, stretching on top of the blankets.

“If you come back quickly,” he answered, and you laughed.

“Don’t worry,” you joked. Your legs were a little weak as you got up. You could still feel where he had touched you, making your cheeks heat up.

When you entered the bedroom again, he had taken your spot on the bed. The last sun rays were now catching in his sparkling eyes, tangling in his hair and dunking his skin in a golden, glowing light. His bare chest was rising and falling steadily and he had draped the sheets over his lower body lazily. He looked at you as if you were the rarest sight in the world, some mythical creature only the luckiest got the chance to encounter once in a lifetime and like you held all the answers to the universe all at once. An overwhelming feeling of love overcame you at the sight of him.

As soon as your leg touched the bed, he opened his arms for you. Smiling, you clung to him as he stroked your hair and kissed your forehead. Even though you were thousands of miles away, you had never felt more at home than in that moment. Your safe place was wherever he was.

Softly, his hands wandered across your skin, drawing random patterns. Sometimes he touched you as if you were artwork at a museum. Too fragile and too precious, maybe even forbidden to lay his hands on. Other times, he dug his fingers deeply into your skin and pulled you flush against his hot body, trapping you under his weight and making it hard for you to breathe with his feverish kisses. His light chuckle rang ever so delightfully in your ears as he noticed the dark hickeys on your chest. His personal masterpiece, only for you to see. If he was the artist, you were his muse and his canvas. The touch tickled you a little. When he traced the dark shapes on your skin you shivered, and when his fingertips came close to your nipples your heart skipped a beat or two. Softly, you swatted his hand away.

“Still haven’t had enough?” you asked.

“I’ll never get enough of you,” he said. You didn’t blame him. If anything, you had never related more. You had just closed your eyes, trying to listen to the way his heart was beating underneath your head, when he rolled over on top of you. When you looked up at him, he had already lowered his head to kiss you. Without your control, your lips curled into a smile. Compared to earlier, when his kisses had been so full of passion and need, they now felt soft, like candy cotton clouds on your skin. Your lips moved slow enough for you to consciously notice every little sensation. The way his hair tickled your forehead, his nose brushing against yours, and his hand intertwining with yours next to your head. Deeply, you breathed in, only to sigh because his scent overtook all your senses with a rush you thought one could only receive from consuming drugs.

His bare chest against yours was warm and your legs tangled with the blankets by your feet. Through the gap in the window you heard the lively song of birds and chatter of both other tourists and residents in the city. Physically, they were just outside, a few levels lower, on the street. But your head was miles away from it all. It was all heart eyes and lips practically quivering with the need to let him know how much you loved him. He beat you to it.

“I’m in love with you,” he whispered. “So much. All of you.”

He peppered kisses on your neck and squeezed your hands in his. How come your heart could never get used to these words? Why did it have to jump the way it did, every single time? Not once had you been able to stop the big smile on your face upon hearing the confession – not that you tried hard, because why should you have – and each time you had to regain your composition for a few seconds, until you could return those words.

“So am I,” you said. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“Yesterday you said the ice cream shop downtown was the best thing that’s ever happened to you,” he teased, a smile evident in his voice.

“That was an exaggeration, obviously,” you said. “If you hadn’t been there with me, it would have only been a fifth as delicious.”

“Thank god,” he said, exaggerating. “I almost thought I had lost against some chocolate ice cream there.”

“Come here, silly,” you said. He raised his head from your neck and grinned. Sometimes you were nearly convinced he could have cured any problem with his handsome smile. But the look he was giving you was reserved only for you. It was saying words without having to speak and held countless memories from the past.

“You’re my favourite person in the whole universe,” you said. “And yes, I do know that none of the aliens out there could possibly be better than you. But I do hope we go back to that ice cream shop tonight.”

His eyes had gone from loving to amused and back to loving. Gently, his lips met yours again. The kiss only lasted for a short while, but it said enough.

“We can go back there,” he said. “Do you wanna go for dinner now? Down by the river?”

“Let’s stay like this, just five minutes longer, alright?” you asked. You weren’t quite ready to lose his warmth on your skin and to leave this little, perfect world inside the hotel room just yet. In fact, if it was possible, you’d drag out the moment forever. And he seemed to agree. He hummed and nodded quietly. The next time his lips met yours, you didn’t let him pull away so fast. Five minutes, half an hour, an hour, what even was time when you were with him?

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7-wonders · 3 years

Text

The Trouble With Wanting

Summary: Though life has changed for you, for the rest of the world, everything remains the same.

Word Count: 1.3K

Author's Note: Hello yes it's the beginning of Act II of Mad Love. Buckle up. Special shoutout to @mrslangdonn for being so pumped for this and making an actual meme. Really hope I didn't let you down with this.

Mad Love Act I here!

In the grand scheme of things, life has been oddly normal lately. Since being kidnapped by witches, saved by your Antichrist husband, admitting that you actually do love said Antichrist husband, and realizing that you’re potentially the only thing that can stop the end of times, the world continued turning and the days marched on. Michael did what he normally did during the days (you don’t really know what it is he does, to be honest. Probably just talking to rich people all day), and you did too. Life continued as it had been, even though it felt like your world had been changed numerous times lately. Honestly, you had expected things to be a lot more dramatic.

But no, life was almost boring now. Mallory had gone back to New Orleans to handle being the Supreme and running her coven, so besides the texts and phone calls with her to try and figure out how to convince Michael that ending the world wasn’t the right course of action to take, the vigilante talk was almost non-existent in your day-to-day life. That was also because neither of you had any idea how to actually put this plan into action. There had been ideas, of course, but none that held any weight. That may be because the best idea either of you had had was a Powerpoint that showed all of the reasons why ending the world was a bad idea, but in your opinion that was still an idea that was on the table.

Also, you assumed that professors wouldn’t take “preoccupied by your husband’s plans for world domination” as a proper excuse for you not completing your work or showing up to class. At the very least, with how turbulent your life had been, you had expected far less homework than what you’re staring at right now.

You’re sitting in your room, doing some reading for class. Surprisingly, the reading isn’t that boring. It’s certainly not fun to do, which is probably why you hear the music right away; your attention absolutely is not all that focused tonight. It catches you entirely off-guard, considering that there’s no speakers in your room and you definitely did not have any music playing from your phone. You listen for a moment, trying to place the melody.

“Is this Frankie Valli?” you question, standing up from your bed and trying to find the source. Opening up your door to see if this is an isolated incident, you find that the music is drifting throughout the house. ‘Drifting’ is probably the wrong word, since it literally sounds like there’s speakers playing “Can’t Take My Eyes Off You” that are installed in every room and hallway.

“Hi,” you say, finally coming across Michael in the living room. He’s standing there nonchalantly, which you automatically know means that he’s involved in this.

“Hi,” Michael says right back.

“Uh, what’s with the music?”

“Well, I was on my phone earlier, and I came across an article.”

Smiling, you step towards him. “You did?”

He nods. “I did, and it was extremely informative. Did you know that married couples typically have a reception after they officially get married? Apparently, they share a first dance at the reception.”

“And you believe everything you read on the internet?”

“Sometimes, if there’s some truth to what I’m reading.” You stare at him, biting back a laugh. “We’re married.”

“We are married.”

“We didn’t have a first dance when we got married.”

“No, we did not.”

Finally, Michael sighs, tired of you playing dumb. “(Y/N), may I have this dance?”

You grab Michael’s outstretched hand, letting him pull you towards him. One hand goes onto your waist, the other intertwined with yours. He begins to lead you in a simple waltz, and you’re thankful that he knows how to dance because you sure don’t. “I didn’t know you knew this song,” you comment when you realize he’s humming.

“I enjoy the classics.”

“There’s this scene from a movie, where one of the main characters--”

“You’re talking about 10 Things I Hate About You, right?” You raise an eyebrow in questioning, and he chuckles. “Madelyn loved ‘90s rom coms, and sometimes I was bored enough that I would watch them with her.”

“I’m a little impressed.”

Michael spins you around. “You should be.”

The romanticism of the whole situation is almost overwhelming. It doesn’t matter that you’re in your living room instead of a reception hall, wearing sweatpants instead of a wedding dress. You’re here with Michael, and just that is romance enough for you. You could stand here like this, with him, forever if he asked you to do so.

“What if we had an actual wedding?” Michael asks.

“We did have an actual wedding.”

“I mean one where you actually have a say in it.”

“Well that’s sweet of you, Michael, but you still haven’t taken me on a proper date.”

“My apologies.” He dips you, kissing you before bringing you back up. “How’s Paris for a first date? Maybe Greece?”

You gasp. “Seriously?”

“Absolutely. Wherever you want, whenever you want, however you want.” He punctuates each scenario with a kiss, making your body melt into him. The song ends, the house falling into silence before the music begins to repeat. But neither of you are paying attention to that any more, not when he’s staring at you in a way that makes heat pool in the bottom of your stomach.

“Michael,” you whisper, tilting your head up to kiss him again.

He reciprocates, trailing kisses down your jaw and onto your throat as his hands move up and down your sides. All too soon, he pulls away, making you groan in disappointment. “We shouldn’t, you know…”

“I know,” you lean your head against his chest with a sigh.

Of course. The main issue that’s been prevalent on both yours and Michael’s minds for weeks now: you’re married and you love each other, but sex is...not going to happen for the time being. You both absolutely, 100% want to, but, as with most things in your life, Satan seems to be the major roadblock. You just never thought that your father-in-law (who you’ve still never met) would end up cockblocking you.

Just because Michael made sure that you wouldn’t be under Satan’s influence, that didn’t mean that he wouldn’t stop trying. If anything, he’s going to try even more now that both of you had openly defied his will. And what was the one thing that Satan wanted besides the end of the world? For Michael to have an heir. And you didn’t trust any sort of contraception when it came to the supernatural powers that you had been married into. Michael completely agreed with that, especially since he knew first-hand just how easily material things (like condoms and all of the various forms of birth control) could be manipulated. So for now, until you could figure out a way to safely get it on, sex was off the table. Unfortunately.

“I’m going to go finish my reading, then.” Slowly, because neither of you particularly want to, you disentangle yourself from him.

“And I’m going to...take a shower. A cold shower.” You laugh at him, but you’re really in the same position that he is.

“Have a good night,” you say, bounding up the stairs before you can stop yourself.

“You too.” Michael also goes up the stairs, and you shut your door before you have to say something to him again. You still keep separate bedrooms, partly because you really enjoy your space and partly because you know that, given the opportunity to be laying in a bed with Michael when you’re both horny, you would totally let him fuck you.

Sliding your back down the door, you groan as you hold your head in your hands. Saving the world from the apocalypse is definitely difficult. Having to stop yourself from having sex with your incredibly hot husband? Well, that feels impossible.

Tag List (starting from scratch because I need a new tag list so message me if you want to be tagged!): @michaellangdon @trelaney @xavierplympton @hecohansen31 @blakescoven @we-did-it-joe @thatonehumanbeing05 @michaellangdonstanaccount

#mad love #michael langdon #michael langdon imagine #michael langdon imagines #american horror story #american horror story imagine #american horror story apocalypse #ahs #ahs imagine

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thatbangtanbloom · 3 years

Text

we’ll always have paris | kth

we’ll always have paris

characters: kim taehyung x reader

genre: idol!taehyung, reader

categories: fluff, angst, smut (pls forgive me it’s my first time)

warnings: dirty talk (tae loves it ngl), oppa kink???, taehyung is absOLUTELY WHIPPED for reader, unprotected sex (pulling out - do not do this ok; wrap it up kids!!!!), curse words

word count: 9.8k

Talks of traveling from Seoul to Paris were a frequent topic between the two lovers for the first two years of their relationship. Paris was a place of new beginnings, for strolls all the Champs-Elysses, and kisses under the Eiffel Tower. Renowned for its beauty and culture, any couple intending on forever had to travel to this as a form of pilgrimage.

Nevertheless, the duty of an idol did not align with that of a student. The number of times Kim Taehyung traveled to Paris for touring could not be counted on his fingers, for his trips were numerous. The love for ARMY was not the same for his girlfriend (and soon-to-be fiancée) so the feelings that Edith Piaf sung in ‘La vie en rose’ left him misty-eyed in anticipation for the moment he would finally do so.

“I’m going to Paris!” were the words that greeted Taehyung on his daily virtual call from his girlfriend, YN. Her chubby cheeks were filled with light as she crossed her legs in her dorm room. It was reassuring to see she was happy: her bed perfectly fixed behind her and the Tata plushie he brought him tucked under her arm. “Well.. Lyon, but my exit flight is in Paris.”

Her excitement is infectious to Taehyung. “Wait.. you are only going to Paris for your exit flight?” He asks with a frown on his lips.

“Yes.. I am traveling to Lyon for an engineering conference for spring break, but I will be going to Paris via train for my flight?” She exclaims with a giddy smile.

Her words paired with her excitement makes him think of last year when they watched the Hollywood golden-era classic, Sabrina. “자기.. Paris is not meant to be an exit flight..”

“I don’t have the money to stay longer.. Paris is expensive.” She pouts before shrugging. “Traveling like a native and then to the airport is enough for me!”

A slight frown settles into Taehyung’s soft features. As much as he loved her, he sometimes wished that she would depend on him more. For lack of a better word, he wanted to be needed. It were times like this when he wondered if she would always be a immobile rock evading his offers. “You should experience Paris properly for your first time.. with me.”

“With you?” She asks in surprise. “But what about your practice and preparations for the new album?”

Taehyung shakes his head. “We are getting a two week break.. I can just work a bit more now and I can meet you after the conference, my sweet engineer.” He is shy as his boxy smile comes into view. “We always talked about backpacking across Europe, right? Let’s start in Paris and go wherever the wind takes us.. and be spontaneous.”

Spontaneous was definitely a word to describe Taehyung. She heard him numerous times to considered doing things with him to be more adventurous; it even led to a few arguments from time to time.

“Well.. if it is not too much of a burden for you..”

“It is not.” He smiles at her brightly. “It would be so nice for us to spend this time together too.. I miss my tiny little spoon.” He leans his cheek against his palm.

As YN usually disagreed with being a little a spoon, she concedes without a struggle. “Your little spoon misses you too... 오빠.”

“Then let’s do this.” The familiar gleam of mischief that she has always loved has reached his eyes once more. The anticipation is rising. “How does that sound?”

“I’ll start packing.” YN concedes with a wide grin. Paris and Taehyung? It’s a love story for the ages.

The warmth of a lover is the most fulfilling experience in the world. For others, it may be success and money, but such things can be replicated time and time again. The effects of true love are unwavering and everlasting in ways that no dictionary in any language can attempt to emulate. This much passion and fortitude remained elusive to be defined, but YN knew that she felt it.

Her heart was beating loud in her ears as she sat on the bed of their hotel room; the key to their shared suite living her heart in circles. She was greeted with rose petals on the bed and a small card from Taehyung that made her wonder if they were soulmates that transcended time. It were the little things like this that made her realize their love was eternal.

자기야 (Honey)

I can’t wait to see you tonight. I seriously haven’t been able to sleep at all, thinking about what this next week has in store for us.. I’m so happy that you’re letting things go as they do. I’ll be there soon. This first night, let’s rest. Tomorrow? We run!

나는 너를 사랑해. 보라해💜 (I love you.)

너의 김태태 (Your Kim Taetae)

She smiles down at the card and plops down onto the fluffy comforters. Taehyung never filled to fill her lungs with roses and make a garden blossom for him. It were times like this when she realized the deepest realization of love was embodied by him. Her Taehyung.

Falling for Taehyung on that winter night in 2016 was the first time that she learned to go with the flow and follow her heart. Apprehension was a common practice when it came to her distinguishing the crush from mere admiration, but once she let it settle.. it began to grow into eternity. It did not fester and cool like the raisin in the sun she worried it would be.

“어... 왜 그래? 자기?” The familiar deep timber whispers, sending tingles down her spine as she shakes away from her daydream to be met with chocolate orbs. He sends her a smirk, clad in his mahogany brown day coat and black beret. He knew Parisian fashion like an atelier at Chanel.

Her heart instantly flutters as she pulls him on top of her to take him into a tight hug and steals a kiss from his soft lips. “Taehyung!”

“What were you thinking about? You didn’t even hear me come in.” He chuckles into her ear as he settles all of his weigh on her with a smile. His fingers toy with the bow of her white sundress absentmindedly. He had missed her so much that he felt light headed just being around her. He was on cloud nine. With his girl.

YN blushes as she takes off his beret to place it on her own head and strokes his hair. He lays his head on her chest, holding her in his arms. “I was thinking about how lucky I am to be with you.. you’re the man of my dreams, you know?”

“어?” Taehyung turns slightly red at the confession. “And not Park Hyunsik-ssi?” He teases, knowing the many occasions she fawned over his hyung while they watched his drama.

YN giggles, “Yes. You have all that I want..” She begins to caress his cheek as he places a kiss on her clothed tummy. “The fact.. the fact you came all the way to Paris and we are going to spend the next week together backpacking makes me excited.”

“I can’t wait for our cottage in the Netherlands. I finished the reservation this morning,” He confesses while stroking her hip. “If we could.. maybe.. maybe we could extend our trip?”

“I wouldn’t say no to that.” YN doesn’t miss a beat. Taehyung’s boxy smile spreads across his face as he climbs up to kiss all over her lips in appreciation.

Taehyung smiles as he pecks her lips quickly. “Let’s drink some of the champagne and spend tonight coolly. I want to enjoy this. And you.”

“We should shower first...” she agrees with a smile as she wraps her arms around his shoulders to peck his lips. “I can order the room service too. Strawberry cheesecake?”

“And steak.” He chuckles as he thinks of their fruit: strawberries had been a deciding factor for the two of them. “I’ll head in now.”

“Mmm~.” She sing songs to him before brushing her nose against his.

Two showers, one call to the front desk, and a knock at the door later, the two lovers sit across from each other cross legged as they feast on steak, potatoes, chocolate covered strawberries, and champagne. It is nothing short of a midsummer night’s dream and a memory that neither of them had wanted to get. The lilting tone of Sarah Vaughn plays in the background as YN listens intently to Taehyung talk about the latest episode of Adventures of BTS. He was so talkative when he was excited about something.

“And Jimin-ah! He could tell that Yoongi-hyung was falling a bit behind so he decided to stop walking. It’s a surprise that hyung had tolerated this much from us.” Taehyung laughs as he takes a sip of his accompanying soft drink, Coca Cola, while smiling. It was rare that he felt this comfortable when someone outside of Bangtan or his family, but this was why he loved YN. He felt safe and secure and he knew that her commitment to him was unwavering just as his was to her. “I’m talking too much about them.. aren’t I?”

YN shakes her head with a giggle. “Tae.. I know how much you love them. I don’t mind.” She beams as she steals another chocolate strawberry despite Taehyung whining earlier about wanting the dark chocolate one.

“Yah! You are just saying that to eat all the dark chocolate ones.. you haven’t even touched the white ones.” His smile crinkles up into moon crescents are how much of a baby she was. He always liked how youthful she was. It was reinvigorating for him to be unapologetically himself with someone who did the same.

YN is chewing on the tarty delicacy, “What? Ngh, no-“ She says as she pops another in her mouth. Taehyung only stares at her blankly for a moment before the smile returns to his face.

“Since you look cute wearing my shirt as you eat my food, I will let it slide.” He says with small chuckle. His free hand taps against the small nightstand table that they had turned into a restaurant platter.

YN shifts in the ribbed chair and leans forward. “Then let me feed you!” She bats her lashes in her particular way that makes Taehyung go weak in the knees. She takes the initiative to bring her chair closer to his and leans forward, “Say Ahh~”

“Ah~” He song songs to her back to her in perfect key as his mouth makes a circular shape. His eyes are large and doe-like when they make eye contact. Her heart flutters like the first time.

YN picks up a medium-sized strawberry dipped in chocolate and brings it to his mouth for him to bite into it. The action is so innocent, but Taehyung aims to tease his baby whenever he can. He purposely bites into the tart fruit so that the juice coats her her fingers and his mouth before taking her fingers to lick the access chocolate-infused strawberry residue.

“Delicious,” He whispers as his eyes never leave hers. He knew how easy it was to charm her. She was wrapped around his finger.

YN bites down on her lip. If it were not for his teasing nature, she would have been perplexed by the blatant act of submission from him. The two of them often tried to outdo each other, but Taehyung’s strength and habit of spanking had considerable influence. “Do I taste good?”

“Show me.” He plays along, but he raises a brow knowingly as though to provoke her. The reaction his sly move elicits comes in the form of her returning her gaze back to her steak and bubbling on it shyly. His baby.

A few glasses of champagne later, Taehyung is tipsy. Despite not being one for alcohol, there was a certain charm about champagne and the girl that he loved that made the night all the more wondrous. Her presence in itself was intoxicating, but the sparkling alcohol softened the edge.

“Let me show you a trick, jagi.” Taehyung chirps to her as he opens the bottle with his signature move. It takes a mere flick of the wrist and a smug grin to make her laugh at how dorky, but cute he was. “Was Oppa cool?”

“Mmm. Was he?” YN likes to tease him, tapping her cheeks. She had no interest in drinking, but she was always eager to look after Taehyung if the time was right.

The lack of a compliment makes his lips pout; the small action complementing his hair that falls over his eyes. “You don’t think Oppa is cool?” His voice becomes higher in tone and he squeezes her hand to pull her closer.

It was rare, but seeing Taehyung as a clingy boyfriend threw her heart into triple time. His grip on her hand was light, but still firm when he pulls her close and holds her in his arms. “Oppa.. I think you are cool..”

“아? 맞아요?” He asks with a small grin spreading across his face as he admires her soft features. The little debbtails about her are endearing and makes him want her even more. He giggles - a rare feat that he feels only with her.

“오빠가 예뻐요.” YN whispers to him as she pecks his lips faintly. It is the times like this: when YN is in his lap and her arms are wrapped around his shoulders in a tight embrace that he feels the safest.

The compliments makes him turn even more red and his face scrunches up into the sweetest arrangement possible. “아이고... 하지마..” The satoori drawl is evident when he speaks; the Standard Seoul accent that he picked up after years of living in Seoul gone from how flustered he feels.

“My baby boy is so pretty,” She presses on while stroking his cheeks gently. Each touch leaves a trail of scarlet and Taehyung thinks he might faint from how charming she is. “Oppa is my baby boy.. right?”

Under normal circumstances, he would never give in to being her baby boy. He liked to think of himself as her protector, her lover, the one who was her equal and caregiver. He had been raised where the man always took control and stepped up to the plate when necessary, but taking a break from that was something he liked to do once in a while. Especially with her.

“맞아..” he whispers into her chest so that he can hear her heartbeat. It beats to the same cadence and he wonders if he has ever felt this alive before.

YN smiles alluringly in his direction and begins to push his hair back from his forehead to kiss his hairline. “Are you tired baby? We can rest-“

“No! I want to be awake for every moment with you.” He whispers as he nuzzles his face between her breasts before looking up at her. “I want to do something fun.”

YN hums, “Something fun?” This earns her a quick nod. “How about this.. remember the Van Gogh paint set I bought? Let’s work on that!”

His eyes immediately light up and he nods. He had been eyeing the set earlier, but figured waiting until Seoul when YN was no longer there would remind him of the lovely excursion in Paris. “Let’s do that!”

The excitement Taehyung feels bubbles through him as he carries her to the bed and then rushes to his luggage to take out the set she had tucked away. He moves so fast that his white shirt bunches where his plaid pajama pants begin before walking back to the bed where YN lays in one of his white shirts and briefs.

“You can do Almond Blossoms and I’ll do Cafe Terrace at night!” He exclaims as he begins to move the table and lay out the protective paper onto the floor.

YN watches him with a smile before rushing to the bathroom to retrieve water for the brushes. “You remembered how much I love Almond Blossoms.”

“I know you love Rococo paintings the most.. and that one reminds me the most of it,” He admits shyly as he lays out the two canvases and mixed the colors eagerly. “Jagi?”

YN gives a noncommittal hum in response as she sits down beside him. “Mm?”

“사랑해.” He whispers as he lays his head in her lap as he stares up at her. “I love you.. so .. so much.” He whispers while kissing her hand.

“I love you too. More than anything or anyone else in this world.” She whispers to him quietly before pecking his forehead. “Let’s paint.”

Taehyung giddily paints with his head in her lap the warm hues that contrast with the cool color to create a nice depth in perspective. Still bubbly, his right hand never leaves her while he paints with his left. The little things like this made him happy that he was ambidextrous.

“You paint so well, Tae!” She exclaims as she looks over from her own painting to take a glance at his. It mimicked the original perfectly and she is reminded of the immense talent that Taehyung has into everything.

Taehyung blushes at the compliment and wraps her hand over his heart. “Do you know how fast my heart beats whenever you say things like this?”

“I say it from my own heart to yours.” She replies with a small giggle as she brushes her nose against his own repeatedly. “I love you~.”

Taehyung giggles as he shifts to paint his initials onto her palm. “Mmm~ and now you are mine.” This prompts her to use her own brush to draw on his cheek.

“And now you are mine!” YN chirps in reply as they both burst into fits of laughter. His heart was racing instantly. “We are even now.”

Taehyung sits up before attacking her with tickles, while still being careful not to ruin the paintings as he climbs on top of her.

“Tae-taehyung!” She says in a fit of laughter as she holds on to him while trying to get away from him, but she never goes too far.

The next morning, YN awakes from her slumber with Taehyung spooning her tightly. He always was a late sleeper, but he slept like a baby when he did. It makes her happy to see him content when they would exchange their struggles amongst each other in the best way an idol and a student could.

Being the little spoon had its own merits when it came to having warmth and the security of having someone there, but it also proved a struggle when trying to get get out of the bed in the morning. It is even more pressing when Taehyung snuggles himself deeper into her neck with a small whine of “아닌데..”

“Tae.. I have to pee.” She whines in response as she shifts to look at his sleepy eyes. Once more, the pout from last night is there and she remembers the cute displays of aegyo paired with Taehyung’s whining that kept her amused the entire night.

Not one to judge, Taehyung says two words only: “Hold it.”

She bursts into laughter before squirming out of his embrace and wiggling out of the bed to stand up. “I’ll just order breakfast for us after, okay?”

Taehyung opens one eye of defiance and nods. “Okay.” He says simply as he cuddles the pillow to envision that it is her.

Eating together was the staple of their time together as Taehyung often asked to be fed and desired to feed her at every moment. His love language made him eager to give, but being in the receiving end made him happy too. The little domestic things, such as eating crepes in bed while they talked excitedly about what they should do for the rest of the day set both of their hearts aflame.

“Let’s go shopping.” YN suggests. The three words make Taehyung do a double take. For as long as he had known her, he knew the rarity in YN desiring to shop. “I want to buy you a present..”

Taehyung pouts slightly. “Yah.. I don’t want you to spend your money on me.”

“Tae.. I am buying you something.” She chirps as she feeds him another crepe and leans forward to wipe the powder from his upper lip.

Not to be outdone, Taehyung holds up his finger. “On one condition.. I buy you something too.. I have a date planned for us tonight and you need a new dress.”

“A new dress?” She raises a brow to her hairline. Being in Paris was one thing, but with the style that Taehyung had, the dress would no doubt be a more than a month’s salary.

“Let me spoil you... please?” He asks in a soft tone as he takes her hand in his and kisses the back of it. “You will love it. I promise.”

Always one to give in, she only nods when he sends her his boxy smile. “Fine..”

Unbeknownst to her, Taehyung knew that tonight would be one to forever change their lives. Tonight was the night that he would propose to her and she would be his forever. The cross between lover to fiancée was what he anticipated the most each time he thought of the diamond ring burning a hole in his suitcase.

“I think you look beautiful,” Taehyung says as he loops his fingers into the fabric of the little black dress. The pout on her lips is evident from the knowledge of the price tag. She knew Taehyung and his appetite for fashion knew no bounds, but this?

YN turns slightly red as she looks in the mirror to turn slightly. “You really think so? The price.. Ah..”

“You don’t have to worry about it.. do you know how happy you have made me these passed three years as your boyfriend? No monetary amount can be put on that.” He whispers in her ear as he snakes his arms around her. “You look absolutely beautiful..”

“When did you learn to speak so prettily?” She asks with a visible pout as they sway from side to side. He has long discarded his tan jacket to feel more of her warmth.

Thank the heavens that the personal shopper had sensed the emotions running rampant and took an exit stage left.

“I wanted to sound like a native speaker.. you started learning Korean too.” He chuckles into her ear as he pulls back to spin her around. “I think you look amazing.. you have to wear this tonight.”

YN hums in reply, “Oh? You like this that much?”

“I love it,” He says with a small grin. The dress was simple, yet elegant. It was her style and complimented the more bold choices that Taehyung wore. “It’s classy and chic... just like you.”

YN turns to face him and bites her lip. “Sometimes it feels like you do all the giving and I just receive.. you wouldn’t even let me buy you that scarf from Gucci.”

“Jagi, I told you I don’t want you spending your money.” He whispers as he strokes her cheek gingerly. “Besides, your curves look amazing in this dress.”

YN plays with the hem of the dress. “I’m surprised you chose this one.. you are usually more.. traditional.” She raises a knowing brow.

“It’s only because I know you will look better without it on.” He whispers into her ear before clicking his tongue. His tone drops a single octave, making her feel weak in the knees as he tilts his head to the side.

YN stares into his eyes, instantly detecting the seduction he was doting out for her. The tension was real and never was it more prominent when his hand danced along her thigh. “Then make haste on your promise.”

“We’re done shopping here!” Taehyung exclaims as he is greeted with the familiar Coco Chanel mnemonic.

“Wow,” is all that Taehyung can say as he watches YN step out of the bathroom. For years, he had seen her as his darling girlfriend with the adjective ‘adorable’ enshrined with every thought of her. The allure of her charms manifested whenever she taught him something new, such as the sun’s ray of light is only what we feel eight minutes after it has passed, or her being flirty while toying with his hair and calling him his favorite honorific. However, this? The level of beauty that she was presenting to him was transcendent and left him resorting to the darkest parts of his desires.

And who was he to say no to them?

YN feels a bit confident when she sees the surprised look on Taehyung’s face. She watches as it contorts from surprise into a look of satisfaction with the slightest hint of smugness. “I look good, don’t I?”

“So good,” He whispers as he crosses the path to snake his arms around her to draw her flush against his chest. “Almost do not want to leave here.. What if we just stay here?” He asks while pulling her to his lap and toying with the excess fabric of the dress. It’s amusing to him how it hugs her in all the right places and is reminded of what he has always known. She is beautiful both inside and out.

YN laughs, “The restaurant you booked for us will not take kindly to your cancelling.” She jokes playfully as she smooths out his blazer and pecks his lips. “Which… you still have yet to tell me which one it is or where it is?”

“Because I know you and that you would micromanage every detail and I can’t have my little jagi doing that~” He sing songs to her with a small smirk pressing on his lips. “Just now that we are not overdressed and tonight is going to be perfect.” And he means every word of it.

The drive to Le Jules Verne is nothing short of eventful, just as everything has always been when it comes to Taehyung. He could barely keep his hands off of her; the moment the taxi driver arrived, he was snaking his arms around her waist to hold her close and drawing small circles over her thigh absentmindedly. The nibbles along on her ear led to the string of giggles that never seemed to end the more that he kissed her and the caress against her bum was enough to make her turn red and whine to him the the taxi driver would see.

Taehyung could care less.

Tonight would be the night that he would pop the question, completely unbeknownst to her. He knew that Paris was the place for lovers, the place where reality and fantasy intersected in the west way possible. He also knew of her eagerness to practice her French while turning back to look at him and ask, ‘Did I look cool?’ as he smiled back to her in reassurance. Just seeing her smile was enough to bring him to his knees, but the way that she loved him ardently and never sacrificed what they had for the thoughts of others - that was what made him get on one knee to propose.

Their relationship had not been an easy one. Time and time again, insecurities flared during the long periods apart. Furthermore, despite ARMY being very loving and accepting in general to any and all of the loved ones that Bangtan adored, there had been many who loathed her with a passion and wanted to depreciate their love for each other with every possible excuse. Hoards of ARMYs swearing she did not love him enough when she did not attend a Korean university to be nearer to him. A long list of people complaining how she spent only the summer in Seoul for the sole purpose of keeping Taehyung away from the fans and the sole reason for his frowns when the smiles did not appear fast enough in interviews. The worst of it all had been them flooding her social media with hate comments, demeaning her personality, looks, and intellect to the point where private seemed the only viable option and even that opted for screenshots of her (rare) stories.

The fights had been terrible, especially when Taehyung began to question if she wanted him as much as he wanted her. Her worries of ‘not being good enough’ often fostered in her offering to set him up with other people or ‘let him go to find someone to make him happier’. His own insecurities began to flourish when she admitted that she did not turn to him first when it times of need and it festered when she told him that he no longer made her happy: nothing did.

Nevertheless, the two persevered to be where they were now: Paris in the springtime. With his fingers entwined with hers while walking through the entrance of the Eiffel Tower to the second floor haute French restaurant, nothing could compare to the giddiness he was feeling. He is keenly aware of the coruscating lights that dot the beautiful structure, the epitome of Paris, and how bright her eyes look when she sees it It was her first time. It was her first time and she was able to experience with him.

“It’s.. It’s beautiful!” Her voice almost falls completely silent while staring up at the breathtaking structure built of iron widgets and the soul of France. Years of imagining her life in the romantic city is more than enough to bring her to tears and she covers her mouth. “Taehyung..” She whispers chastely as she turns to him.

Taehyung sends her a small boxy smile, just as he always had. The reliability of his grin was more than enough to make her feel more secure than ever. He does not budge when she throws herself into his arms and kisses the top of her forehead repeatedly. “I’m so glad that I get to experience your first time here… You look so beautiful when you’re happy.” He whispers as he shifts to peck her lips, “Now.. let’s get inside and we can walk around a bit more. Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She smiles warmly as she holds on to him tightly with a fluttering heart and they make their way up the stairs and to the elevator.

After ordering their finest wine and the specialty, YN is left under the watchful eye of Taehyung. His stare was dark and alluring as he initiated hooky under the table. There was nothing that he loved more than to see her flustered because of him. There was something endearing about the way she was innocent to his dark desires.

Sexual encounters were not a forgotten moment for Taehyung the few times that they happened. The chemistry was there, no doubt, when his hand ghosted over her hip and he gave her the look prior to his voice octaves dropping. Her soft voice murmuring Oppa was more than enough for him to lose all control.

“You’ve been staring at me,” YN murmurs with a blush as she brings the caramelized onion to her lips.

Taehyung chuckles as he looks at her and unbuttons his suit as he returns back to his coq au vin. “It’s hard for me not to.. you look breathtaking tonight, just as you always do.”

His words send a flame across her cheeks and she finds herself growing even more shy in the process.

“I don’t think I will be able to control myself tonight.” He confesses after a sip of champagne and leans forward. “I couldn’t stop thinking about our time in Seoul.. after the final concert.”

She did not know that it were possible, but she becomes the definition of red. She knew exactly what he meant: the concert adrenaline has rushed through Taehyung the night as he brought her back to his hotel room and ate her out for hours. He even refused to let her reciprocate after tugging at his hair repeatedly from the overstimulation. He let her fuck his face until she cried and murmured something about it not being the last time before falling asleep.

“I remember how pretty you sounded.. moaning 오빠 like the good girl you are. I even taught your stubborn self manners..” he drawls as his knee parts hers with a seductive purr. “I bet you’ll sound even prettier tonight.”

It takes everything in YN to not choke in reply to words of a siren. That was what Taehyung was, eager to make her his and submit to him. “I think it’s time you sound pretty too.”

“I want to.” He deadpans once his wine is finished and nods for the waiter to bring their dessert. “Let’s have dessert on the patio.”

“Patio?” YN asks with furrowed brows prior to dabbing the napkin across her lips for any excess residue.

Taehyung nods as he takes her hand and brings her up. “Yes. We have to go right now.” He sing songs as he guides her to the biggest surprise of her life.

The proposal.

The ground is peppered with pink roses making a makeshift trail as Taehyung walks with their fingers entwines and his head is beating in triple time. Violins greet them with ‘winter bear’ playing lightly in the background to contribute more to the overall serenity. He had meticulously thought of everything by from the strawberry cheesecake dessert in the center of the patio and the flowers surrounding it. Would she say yes? Surely she would.

“Taehyung.. is this for us?” She asks, never letting go of his hand as she walks to the table with him and rests her arms in the table.

Taehyung nods as he picks up a fork and lifts a small bite of cheesecake to her mouth to feed her. “It is.. I thought you may enjoy the scenery a bit more.”

“You can see everything from here.. I would have never expected to be blessed with this view.” She confesses with a flustered look on her face. “I mean that ardently.. you make me feel secure.”

Taehyung smiles as he leans his head on her shoulder to feed her more. “I hope that I can always give you that security.. for the rest of our lives.”

“I hope so too.” She whispers as she picks up a strawberry that looks much larger than the others and her brows furrow. “This one is cute.”

His heart races. His ring was placed in the makeshift strawberry: this was the moment. “I think you should cut it, first.”

YN nods as she cuts into the juicy strawberry. She is careful to do so, having already an inkling of where this would be going. Was he proposing to her?

She nearly faints when she sees the silver band in the strawberry and to turns to see a beaming Taehyung. Her voice cracks in her throat, “T-taehyung.”

He sends her a warm smile as he gets down on one knee and he takes his hand out of his pocket. “YN-Ah..”

YN’s own heart is racing faster than ever as she fights back the tears that were beginning to well up in her eyes. “Tae.. Taehyung-Oppa..”

“Since the first moment I laid eyes on you, I knew that you were someone special in my life.” He begins as he thinks back to the words he spent countless times reciting to sound like a native speaker. “In the beginning, I thought of you as someone who I needed to take care of, to protect, and love, because you were so fragile.”

“But I was wrong.. you were so much more than a girl that I wanted to love. You were your own person and you never let me or anyone else dictate your life... I was never your only goal.. you loved me for me and continued to be yourself authentically whether or not it the outlook was pretty.” He licks his lips as his grip on the forehead velvet box tightens. “We had our own ups and downs, but that was what made us stronger. I showed you the ugliest parts of myself and you did the same. We learned to love each other as people first and then lovers.”

“They say love is blind and can change your perception of the world if you are not careful, but my vision became perfect when it came to you. You learned to read my emotions, understand the little things about me that I did not understand myself, and reminded me what it meant to be Kim Taehyung, not V. You gave me the normalcy that my job took away.. you even gave me that card.” He laughs as he tried to think of the name. “Bend.. bend a.”

She can’t help but smile with the way he looks at her knowingly. She always would correct him. “Ventra.. and you loved the CTA.” She laughs in the midst to stop herself from being on the brink of tears. How could he be charming even while cracking a joke?

“The experiences we have had together helped me grow.. the times I felt isolated and alone, you were there to be strong even when you struggled too.” His thoughts drift back to her wiping away her own tears to console him, the reassurance that he needed was given to him. “You taught me how to be strong.. you taught me how to continue to go on when I no longer could fight anymore because as long as I had you, I had someone worth fighting for.”

“My parents.. they love you.” He says with a small grin on his face. “My family has been the only consistent entity that I have had since I became an idol. That was what I thought until I met you. You even began to learn Korean just to communicate with us at family dinner.. when you did that, I knew that I needed you as my wife.”

“The sacrifices you’ve made to be with me have been great and not once have I ever thought of taking them for granted. Jagi.. you’re one in a billion and I am never going to let you go.” He smiles warmly. “I love all your little habits. I love how you overplan everything and even included me in them.” This earns him a shy chuckle. “I like how you treat Yeontan like our baby and swaddle him despite him hating it.. I like when you wake up at six in the morning to bake me cakes just because you feel like it.. the times you smile without reason and how infectious your laugh is.”

“It is the way you ask me about little decisions just to remind me that my opinion matters and how you keep me grounded.” He has to bite back his lip. “When I felt like giving everything up, you put my head in your lap and held me as I cried. You told me that you would always be there for me and that you would love me no matter what my decision was. I learned you loved me for me when I could not love myself that way.”

“So with this ring, I am asking you to not only be my wife, but to continue being my best friend, the mother of my children, and soulmate until our last breath. I will love you until the day I die.. for.. I love you more than yesterday but less than tomorrow.. so YN LN. will you marry me?”

YN is brought to tears when he finishes. The trip down memory lane has made her feel all the more tied to him and she never wants to let go of him, ever. “Yes.. yes.. a million times yes!” She says as Taehyung stands to his full height and places the ring onto her finger.

“사랑해.” He whispers into her ear as he kisses her deeply. He wants to transmit every bit of emotion that he feels for her into the kiss with a shaking heart. He wants her to know that she is his first and his last. “정말 사랑해. 난 절대 널 떠나지 않을 거야.” he whispers quietly into her ear and rubs the small of her back.

(trans. I love you so much. I never will leave you. )

After the engagement, the two lovers spent a few moments admiring the view of the Eiffel Tower for a few solemn moments. It was in this moment that they felt infinite and that the world could not throw anything in their way to stop their happiness. How many people were blessed to find their soulmate? Their better half? And all without compromising themselves as people? It was transcendent.

The ride back home goes off without a hitch; the two eagerly embracing each other in every way possible in the backseat as their emotions begin to bubble up. They had taken it to the next level: engaged to be married!

“I want you so bad,” He whispers into her ear with a grunt in the elevator as his hand finds chase on her thigh. All he can think about is making love to her as his fiancée. The dress wraps around her curves like a glove and he thinks she will look so much better without anything on. “Want your pretty mouth moaning my name as I eat you out.”

She gasps as he presses her against the mirrored elevator with his face buried in her neck to leave a hickey. Taehyung had a terrible habit of marking her, especially where anyone could see. She once loathed turtle necks, but with his habit, there was no choice but to give in the the made her feel so good.

“Can’t wait to fill you up with my cum,” He grunts into her ear as he parts her legs with his knee to grind his hard member against her clothed sex. Normally refined, Taehyung was a man starved. “You’re not going to remember any other name but mine when I am done with you, jagi.”

He grips her hips to grind her forward to show how hard he was, “Look at how fucking hard oppa is for you. You like seeing your oppa wanting you?” He does not stop his ministrations when the elevator door opens and guides her to their Parisian suite that he seemed to know like the back of his hand.

“I love it so much, Taehyung.” She moans as he presses her against the door and fumbles to get the room key from his blazer. The lack of honorific makes him growl before leaving another love bite on her shoulder. “I-I mean oppa.”

He chuckles darkly once the door is open and pulls her in swiftly to pin her against the door. “I guess I have to remind you who you belong to then.. huh?” He asks smugly.

“You’ll look so good with my cock buried inside of you..” He whispers before hoisting her up and carrying her to the bed. He moves at the speed of lightning, kissing along her inner thigh while undoing her shoes without much trouble. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted to make love to you? And now I get to do it as my wife.”

“Wife-to-be…” She corrects as he lifts the dress over her hips and makes her sit up.

Taehyung scoffs, “Wife.” He repeats quietly before attacking her with another kiss. His hands roam around her body, focusing on each crevice and curve that entices him more while grinding his cock against her wet sex. She was practically dripping when his fingers slipped between her satin underwear. “You’re so wet for me already?”

“Mmm.” She moans while looking at him, “Let me take care of you first.. oppa.”

Her purr makes Taehyung stop for a moment. As a man who loved to be in control, he did not want to stop himself from eating her out for hours and then thrusting into her tight cunt for the first time. Yet, the offer is far too enticing when he remembers how her pretty lips look wrapped around his cock and he can’t say no.

So he doesn’t.

Taehyung rolls off of her to admire how she looks in her lacy black bra with matching panties. Every curve of her body is evident and he knows that he has hit the absolute jackpot. How could anyone be that intelligent, charming, and sexy? Her worries of always being the lesser in the relationship were ill-founded.

“I bet oppa can’t wait to get his fat cock sucked by his princess, can he?” She provokes him with the vulgar language while unbuckling his belt and tossing it to the side. He sits back, amused, at the seductive sway of her hips. “Lift your hips.”

She does so without problem.

She remains on her knees as she begins to stroke the underside of his cock through his boxers. Her eyes then avert from his nether regions to his eyes with a shy smile, “You should tell me how it feels.”

“And let you know how good you are making me feel? Aish..” He groans, the satoori lacing into his words while grinding his hips into her palm for more friction. “Don’t tease me…. I want to feel how tight you feel around my big, fat cock when you clench so hard around my fingers.”

YN remains amused as she rests an elbow on his knee and lets her head rest on her left hand, “You like knowing that you’re the only person to be inside of me.. don’t you?”

“I fucking love it,” He grunts when she flicks her wrist just the way he likes it and it has him jutting his hips slightly more forward in the process. “Want to fill you up so badly… I want to cum inside of you.”

The lewd confession makes her turn red, but it only ignites her confidence to push forward as she tugs his boxers down to her ankles to be met with his standing cock that slaps his stomach. His dress shirt is crinkled and the blazer at his shoulders sags down as he stares at her knowingly.

“Be a good girl and suck my cock, won’t you?” He asks with the tone of a siren. He is alluring in all ways, the dark stare I this eyes and the smug look from looking down at her. It turned him on to see the girl with such high standards and work ethics reduced to his good girl wrapped around his finger.

And he knew she liked it too.

YN hollows her cheeks as she begins to pump the base of his cock. She can almost feel how wet she is when small moans of pleasure begin go erupt from Taehyung. She loved how his deep voice sputtered with each stroke of her tongue.

“Fuck, fuck, just like that.” He grunts in pleasure as his hips buckle forward to hit the back of her throat. “Such a good girl and all for me.” He rasps before slapping her ass.

Taehyung has to wonder how she’s gotten better at sucking cock for a few moments before he pushes her off when he feels a knot begin to form in his stomach.

“Want to eat your pretty pussy out,” He says as he picks her up and pins her against the satin sheets. Her cheeks flush red at his lewd words and he asks himself how he managed to be so lucky to have a girl like her.

He quickly discards the black lingerie that adorns her skin and he mentally thanks himself for sneaking it in last minute. It hugs her every curve and he only wants more of her. All thoughts of before disappear once he spreads her knees and places an open mouthed kiss over her wet cunt.

“아름다운,” He whispers before spitting onto her cunt and takes her fully into his mouth. The reaction is instantaneous when she nearly folds into two and he laughs in response. It sends a vibration against her clit which only makes it more amusing to him when he has to hold her still. “Baby, stay still.”

Before she can protest, he flicks her clit with his tongue and never looks away from her with such intensity that she feels like she will faint. Kim Taehyung was a force to be reckoned with and she had no qualms learning how to reckon him. He draws figure eights over the hem of nerves to elicit a string of whimpers from her.

“Tae - tae -taehyung-“ she chokes out when he decides she is to his liking and begins to thrust a finger inside of her tight, wet cunt.

Taehyung pins down her leg to rest his chin on top of it. “How do you call me properly?”

“Taehyung!” She cries when he adds another finger and thrusts deeper into her. She was so tight that it made him wonder if he would fit.

“Taehyung.. what..” he provokes in a darker tone. “Be a good girl and say it. Just me and you here.” He adds another finger and increases his speed. She’s almost a sobbing mess when he purposely brushes against her g-spot. “자기~.”

She squirms more in his embrace to cause more friction, but it is to no avail. “Taehyung.. 제발..” she whimpers to him. “오빠..” she cracks.

“Good girl,” Taehyung whispers before curling his fingers inside of her and soon she completely becomes putty in his arms. She cums all over his fingers, her hips still twitching with he brushes the inside of her folds. “괜찮아?”

YN nods as her chest rises and falls periodically. “Yes..” she sits up before wrapping her arms around his shoulders and pulls him on top of her. “I’m ready,”

“I know you are.” He teases as he shows her the white substance that coats his fingers and licks it slowly. “You taste like you’re ready too..”

“I want to be on top.” She says before using all her pressure to climb on top of him. Despite knowing her nature, it still throws Taehyung for a loop.

Taehyung thinks she’s sexy when she takes charge. He likes it even more when she lets him guide her hips onto his throbbing cock that was beginning to drip precum .

“I’m on the pill,” YN says with a blush on her cheeks.

Taehyung chuckles for a moment as he continues to stroke the base of his cock for a few moments with the remainder of her cum. “So you knew this would happen?”

“No.. I just thought..” she turns as red as a tomato.

“I’m not really a fan of condoms.” Taehyung confesses with a chuckle. “So I like the idea of fucking your tight pussy raw.. but I’ll pull out just to be sure.”

“Mmm,” she nods as she finally sinks down so just the head of his cock was pressing against her folds. “Fuck..”

“You can take more..” Taehyung coos as he pushes her hair behind her shoulder to begin leaving kitten licks across her collarbone.

“I can.. you’re so big..” she whimpers as she places her hand in his shoulders to take more of him. Taehyung has to take a sharp breath when she clenches around him so hard. She wasn’t even at half of his cock yet and he felt like he was seeing stars.

Taehyung smiles at her, “Your pussy is all wet and tight.. just for me, yeah?” He asks with a click of his tongue. He was growing a bit impatient with this; how could he focus when she was clenching around him so tightly?

“Shit..” she whispers one last time before sinking onto his cock completely. Her walls cling around taehyung tighter than ever, making him want him to take all of her.

“Can I thrust up?” He asks, eager to move. She felt so good around him that he struggled to keep his self control.

She gives him a commital hum of approval, “Mm,” She can barely think straight when his hands up both of her hips to piston his hips deeper into her tight sex. She can feel his pulsating cock as it begins to fill her walls, “Fucking hell Taehyung-“

“You sound so pretty when you take my cock like the good girl you are,” He rasps prior to slapping her ass. His grip only tightens with each thrust; each of his actions only embolden when he hears her soft mewls of pleasure. “Who knew you were a good cockslut for me, huh, baby?”

“Oh - shut up -“ She can barely choke out the words when Taehyung brushes against her g-spot ever so slightly.

What a fucking tease he was.

Taehyung is not fairing any better than her, especially not when her walls clench around his throbbing cock. As generous as he is, it’s hard for him to not chase after his own high when she makes him feel this good. He seriously thinks he must have saved the country in his past life to have all of her to himself.

“Just like that, babygirl. You feel so tight around me. I bet you’ll be cumming all over my fat cock soon. Huh?” He remarks cockily as his fingers find her clit to draw figure-eight’s on the sensitive bud. She nearly doubles over from how well he seems to know.

Each time he thrusts into her, he bottoms out inside of her to the point of no return. “T-taehyung-“ She stammers out, “I’m close-“

“Fuck, me too baby.” His voice lowers an octave from the pleasure that was soon to arrive. “Can’t wait to cum all over you,”

His thrusts become quicker in speed as he repeatedly begins to hit her g-spot; each time sending her into another wave of pleasure. Her hips ritochet from how good it feels.

“I’m c-cumming,” She chokes out as her arms wrap around his shoulders, holding him tighter from the impending euphoria. No one even came close to making her feel this good. Ever.

Smirking, Taehyung knows all too well. “You can’t wait for me like a good girl, huh?” It’s a shock that his voice manages to stay stable when his cock is seconds away from exploding with pleasure. “I’m close too baby-“

“Fu-fuck!” She stutters out with another thrust of Taehyung’s hips into her wet core before she soon cups all over his cock. She wilts into his arms while lazily lifting her hips to the same cadence of Taehyung’s pistoning hips.

The wind is nearly knocked out of him as he pulls out of her quickly as his own high rapidly rushes toward him. Her pussy was so wet and tight that it was milking him for all that he had, “Fuck-“ He grunts as he pumps his cock once, twice, three times before spilling onto his stomach.

Only the sound of heavy breathing fills the suite as Taehyung pulls her close into his arms and kissing her temple.

“You’re sticky,” She whines with a pout as Taehyung only laughs in response.

“You should help me clean up.” He provokes with a brow raise at the girl.

Never one to back down from a challenge, she only rolls her eyes in faux disapproval. “You know where that will leave us..”

“I do,” He whispers as he stares into her eyes with that longing look of his he had always sent her. “It’ll leave us together. Here. In Paris,” He always had been too romantic for his own good, too romantic for her to say no to any of his ideas.

“And if we end up spending all of our time on top of each other? Instead of actually exploring Paris?” She presses on; the chase was always fun between the two of them. The push and pull only end up right back with one another.

“Mmm. We’ll always have Paris.” Taehyung whispers lazily before closing the distance between the two of them with a full heart and a new petal of lust blooming in his chest.

- - - - -

Don’t be a stranger and let me know what you think! Let me know if there should be another part too.

#taehyung smut #taehyung fluff #taehyung angst #taehyung x reader #bts x reader #v x reader #v x you #taehyung x oc

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axwalker · 3 years

Text

Creep 2: I don’t care if it hurts

HIGH SCHOOL AU

Pairing: Drake Walker x MC (Lexie O’Brien) Book TRR

MASTERLIST HERE

Synopsis: Drake and Lexie are star-crossed lovers. Her father hates him and forces Lexie to stop any contact with Drake. Lost and heartbroken, he “bullies” her for two years until he discovers the truth of Lexie’s behavior.

A/N 1 This came up to me after I got an ask from @nestledonthaveone to write a fic based on the song CREEP.

I used to hear this song when I was a teenager, so when I read this ask, I immediately wanted to write something angsty but situated in high school.

A/N 2: Because they’re younger than usual, I decided to change my FC.

Words: 4,110

WARNINGS: Parental abuse, domestic violence, toxic love.

THIS IS NOT YOUR USUAL MARSHMALLOW DRAKE. He was abandoned as a boy, he’s tortured and he doesn’t know how to express his love. His behavior is not excusable.

This is a dark love story. If you’re not comfortable with it, PLEASE do not read it.

ALL MY FICS ARE 18+

TAGS ON THE COMMENTS

As this is darker than usual; I’m only tagging the people who commented in the previous chapter. If you want to get on or off the list for this fic, please do not hesitate to ask!!

DRAKE

Even if she never looks at me or speaks to me again, she’s mine. Even if I’ve been a horrible jerk to her for two years and she pales every time I pull into the parking lot on my motorcycle, she is mine. Just seeing her with him enrages me, so I walk straight toward my usual seat, directly behind Lexie, and slam my textbook down onto the desk.

Startled, Rys looks up at me, “Hey, Walker. What’s up?”

It’s not the first time he tries to make a move on Lexie. Last time –two years ago, we almost killed each other. Pretty boy might be an entitled ass, but he knows how to fight. Maybe he thinks Lexie is game again after all this time. He couldn’t be more wrong.

“Don’t you have a class this period?” I ask him. Liam cocks his left eyebrow, adjusting the straps of his backpack.

“I fail to see why that concerns you, Creep.”

My smile is murderous. “Get the fuck out of here before I break your face, pretty boy.”

I think he has a death wish because he looks at Lexie when he talks, “See you after class, Alexis, when your watchdog will be busy mowing my lawn.” Finally, he just shakes his head and gets out of the classroom. I resume my daily routine. Staring at the back of Lexie’s head, tracing the curve of her perfect neck, my cock getting hard over her perfect cherry scent.

“So that’s what you like,” I say, leaning forward to speak an inch from her ears. “You like them with blond hair and pink polo shirts. Prospects for Cambridge or shit. A huge trust fund. Don’t you? A brat like you needs someone who can spoil her. I bet you’d introduce him to daddy, wouldn’t you?”

She doesn’t respond. She never does. Her eyes stay stubbornly on the front of the class where the teacher has started writing today’s lesson on the board—my hands fist in desperation. I’m dying for her to talk to me. To look at me. Anything. “Too bad, Lexie. I’ll scare every single one of those fucking entitled boys off. You’re going to sit alone in your house on prom night, crying into your designer sheets like a baby. And I’m going to enjoy it.”

The only sign that she hears me at all is the quickening rise and fall of her shoulders. Even that tiny display that I’ve upset her is agonizing, floods me with self-loathing, but I can never stop. She ripped out my fucking heart, and I can’t deal with the consequences of that alone. I can’t let her go. I’ll never let her go. This toxic feeling is the only thing left between us. My hands shake with the urge to take her in my arms, to stop the trembling I caused. To protect her from everything. Even myself. I’d love to move my fingers up into the silky, brown hair that reaches the middle of her graceful neck. I don’t have a lot of money; most of the cash I earn as a handyman goes to food and fixing my dad’s cabin, but I’d give every last cent for her to turn and lock those soft brown eyes on me, just one last time. Sometimes when I jerk off, all it takes is fantasizing about Lexie looking at me, giving me one of those shy smiles, and I lose it. One stroke. Maybe two. Done. I can’t breathe without having her close. And I can’t breathe with her close. It’s a strange condition, this obsession, but she’s an addiction that I just can’t give up.

How could I? She’s intelligent, strong, and so damned gorgeous. Once upon a time, I thought she had a good heart too. But that was before she broke my pathetic heart only because I’m poor. I’ve been hurting since then, and I need her to hurt too. To know what it feels.

“Do you actually think that dumb rich boy would be a good choice for your first time, Lexie?” I grip my desk so tight it nearly breaks down, just thinking about her being kissed –touched by someone else. “At least that’s one thing us poor motherfuckers have going for us. We know how to fuck. If you went out with Rys for a while, you’d eventually give in and come slumming it one night, wouldn’t you? Knock on my rundown cabin door, begging me to fuck you as we both know you’d like.”

A pretty blush is starting to climb her neck. I have to take a deep breath to keep from kiss her pink cheeks. But I think if I got to touch her skin, my wall of bullshit would crumble. I’ve only fucked one girl. Since seeing Lexie for the first time freshman year, there’s been no one but her. I want no one else. She owns my cock as sure as she owns my heart. How easily she’s forgotten about both leaving me in agony.

“Stop,” she breathes. I freeze. Did she just speak to me? It’s the first time in two years that she’s even remotely acknowledged my existence.

“Lexie,” I managed to say. I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. That’s all it took. One pleading word out of her mouth, and I’m done.

“Just stop,” she says again, turning her head slightly. “Please.”

I fall back in my chair, my heart thundering on my chest. If we weren’t in the middle of class, if I didn’t feel like a monster, I would pull her into my arms right now. I’d hug her until she stopped struggling, then beg her to hit me, bruise me, make me pay for every shitty thing I’ve ever said to her. But before long, the class is over, and she’s leaving the classroom to get out of here. To put distance between us as quickly as possible—and I have no choice but to watch her because I feel physically ill. Still, I manage to get out into the student-packed hallway, my plan to apologize for being crude and a jerk and torturing her for so long.

My head is telling me not to apologize, though. It’s telling me she deserved it for being such a snob, for breaking me, for valuing money and status like everyone else. My damned heart is telling an entirely different story. It’s insisting there is an explanation for her behavior. Am I going to apologize or not? The decision is taken out of my hands when Lexie opens her locker, and the little gift I left before class falls down. It’s a picture I cut out from our last yearbook. In the photo is a gorgeous smiling Lexie above the caption Most Likely to Succeed. Except I’ve crossed out the caption and added my own. Most Likely to Be a Trophy Wife. Watching her read it, I almost get sick right there in the hallway. Usually, she’s perfectly composed, not betraying a trace of emotion where I’m concerned—a real Ice queen. I’ve always thought she honestly didn’t care. Today, though… she’s not pulling it off. Something is not okay with her, and I don’t like it. She has to bite down on her bottom lip to stop it from quivering as she puts the photo back into her locker, out of sight, her bright eyes finding me briefly, massacring me where I stand. Betraying with one single look how much she has been affected by my actions. Christ. She hasn’t been indifferent at all.

Before I can react, before I can call her name, she’s gone, vanished into the crowd of wild students excited to be leaving for the day. And I know what I have to do. I have to see her. To apologize. To get an explanation for everything. Tonight. I’ll return to her house for the first time in two years.

LEXIE

I’ve known this was coming all day. Sitting on the couch in my living room, trying to make myself as small as possible, I watch my father pace. He rants, gesticulating noisily. This isn’t new, my father’s rage threatening me. But it’s going to be worse than usual. Business has declined for him and it’s put his temper on a trigger. Dad’s new wife, Nancy, hates to be on a budget, and she’s been spending his money like crazy all over Paris --where she’s now. When dad gets home from the office, he’s rarely in anything but a horrible mood. A tornado eating up everything in its path. Completely terrifying. At least dad’s temper makes me forget what Drake told me today, the ugly words he said to me, the boiling anger in his eyes when he looks at me.

“Are you even listening?” The slap across the face comes as a shock because I’d momentarily disappeared into my thoughts, but the sting quickly brings me back to reality.

“Yes, sir,” I say, my ears ringing. “I’m listening.”

“This C on your algebra test is going to drag your whole average down.” He’s waving the test in my face. “What a disappointment you are, Alexis. Your teacher shared my disgust.” I nod solemnly, but I’m listening for the rain outside. “I guess you’re your daughter’s mother after all. A poor Mexican girl who could barely count.” It’s not true. My mom learned English and Greek by herself, and she was a great Spanish teacher in Portavira, but my father would rather die than acknowledge how smart she was.

“Don’t talk like that about her,” I retort.

My father snorts. “I beg your pardon?” He takes a step towards me, and I can see the threat in his eyes.

“I’m sorry.” I hate to be such a coward, but I know what he can do to me.” I’ll do extra credit. Something to bring my grade back up to an A.” I wet my lips. “Even if I can’t manage to raise the grade, it’s not going to show up on the college transcripts I sent off with my applications.” That’s the reason I let my focus slip a little in algebra. The finish line is in sight for everyone, and we’re just waiting to find out where we’ll be accepted for college. It’s a wonder I’ve been able to maintain my focus this long in any class, considering Walker sits behind me in every period, brooding making me feel … something. At the reminder of him, I want to close my eyes and dream about him. I replay that night in my garden when he kissed me two years ago, so tenderly and passionately, when he spoke to me so sweetly and honestly before he became the second villain in my story. Someone I dread, as much as I crave the sight of him.

At least that’s one thing us poor motherfuckers have going for us. We know how to fuck. If you went out with that punk for a while, you’d eventually give in and come slumming it one night, wouldn’t you? Knock on my trailer door, begging me to ride you right.

Should I be ashamed of the way my body reacted to those words? I grew uncomfortably damp in the hard plastic chair, the center of my body clenching, seeming to beat like a heart. His breath on my neck made me shiver, head to toe. Even the way he scared off Liam Rys did something to me. Aroused me. Deeply. It got so bad that I broke the rules and asked him to stop. I can still hear him saying my name in that tortured way after. That shocked, uneven sound. Lexie. And whether I’m ashamed of myself for it or not, I know I’ll think of it when I touch myself tonight. His voice, his hands, his eyes obsess me.

“College?” My father snorts, tearing the test in half. “You’re not going to college.”

This grabs my attention. A horrible feeling is making me cold. “I’m…what? What do you mean? I applied to nine different schools. I have a four-point five GPA.”

For the first time, I notice his red face is about more than just rage. There’s…humiliation. I’ve never seen him display that emotion.

“None of the American colleges that accepted you offered scholarships.”

“I’ve been accepted?” I gasp, sitting forward, heart pounding in my chest. “Where? I didn’t see the letters—”

“All the mail in this house goes through me, Alexis. I read them. And you failed to get academic scholarships. You failed. Not that I’m surprised.”

I don’t point out that his refusal to let me participate in any extracurricular activities is more than likely to blame for that. I’m too worried about what he’s saying, what this means. The blood is draining from my head, making the room spin around me.

“Okay, I’m sorry about that. I’m sorry. But…we have money. We can pay tuition, can’t we? Or colleges in Cordonia are almost for free. I can go to any of them; I don’t have to go to NYU.” I have to get out of here. I have to get out of here. This is my way out. College is the escape route. I counted on going back to New York, but I can stay here and go to college in Cordonia City.

“Listen to you, so quick to spend my hard-earned money—spoiled brat. And of course, you can’t go to college in Cordonia. What for? To end up being a schoolteacher like your mom? A housewife as Nancy?” He laughs bitterly. “No, you’ll stay here, and I’ll help you find someone suitable to marry.”

I shake my head. “There’s financial aid, then. Loans or I can get a job and go to college in Portavira…”

“You want to leave, just like her, don’t you? You’re all the same.”

I don’t even flinch when he yanks me to my feet, shoving me into the wall. In fact, for the first time, I took him right into his eyes. And I can see the violence burning on them has nothing to do with me. It never had anything to do with how I behave, my choices, how hard I worked in school. How welcome I made Nancy feel or cooked a roast. It’s about him and his self-loathing. It’s his sickness. Not mine. I can also see that he was never going to send me to college. Because he wouldn’t be able to control me from a distance or stop me from sharing what I’ve been subjected to since my mother died. Not like he does now. He wasn’t physically abusive all the time. Especially not when his new wife is around. But she traveled often, and then he’d push me. Shove me. Slapped me several times. I’ll graduate at the top of my class for nothing. He knew I would all along.

That’s when I realize I’m free. I don’t have money, but college is free in Cordonia. I can work, save a little and go to college in one or two years. I’ll be a writer; it’ll just take more time than I thought. “Go to hell,” I whisper.

He steps back, giving me the momentary satisfaction of his shock. “What did you say?”

Liberated, I scream it this time. “Go to hell!” From the moment I sat down to have this conversation, I knew tonight would be worse than usual, but I’ve just bought myself a ticket to hell. Usually, I can retreat to the untouchable place inside of me as he unleashes his rage, but not tonight. He doesn’t stop at one or two slaps. He punches and kicks, and I’m present for every punch and kick. Every yelled insult. Finally, I start to get scared. I’m crawling across the carpet on my hands and knees, searching for a weapon I can use in my defense when I glance out the window and see Drake staring back at me, his face a mask of horror.

Drake

What I’m seeing just isn’t possible. It can’t be real. My head won’t accept it. Not until her terror-filled eyes meet mine through the window and the truth pounds on my chest, leaves no doubt that this is real life. Lexie’s father is beating her. Her mouth is bloody, one of her eyes beginning to swell, arms and legs visibly weakened. I can barely fucking process it before my body is springing into action, desperate to protect her. To put a stop to the worst thing I have ever seen. What the fuck. Scorching hot rage takes over. I kick in the front door and throw myself between Lexie and her father. His fist is raised, but it pauses when he sees me, his momentary confusion giving me the time I need to knock him out cold. It only takes one right uppercut from someone his own size, and he goes down, his blank, glassy eyes staring at nothing, mouth opened. It’s not satisfying enough.

Nothing will ever be satisfying enough. I want to kill him, destroy him, but my Lexie is struggling for breath behind me, and she’s all I can think about. Turning, I approach her, my heart threatening to jump off my chest. As gently as I can, I catalog all of the cuts and purpling skin. No. No. Who could do this to her? Who could lay a finger on her in anything but reverence? Get her out of here. Calling her name, I reach down to pick her up, but she flinches and hurries back, bringing her body up against the wall.

“Don’t touch me!” Those words filled with fear rip the soul clean out of my body. My hands drop limply to my sides and two years come rushing back, hitting me in the chest like a hammer. Every word, every action. Everything I did to make her life harder when this is what she’s been dealing with at home? Fuck me.

“Lexie…” My voice is as kind as I can. I feel broken. “I’m sorry. I came here to apologize. For everything.”

She puffs a humorless laugh, testing her cut lip with the tip of her tongue. “Bet you weren’t expecting to see this.”

“If I knew this was happening, I would have been here a long time ago. I would have stopped it. I swear Lex.”

Her expression can only be described as stunned. Maybe even a little pissed. “You are not my savior, Drake. You are my enemy. You’ve been for two years, and I want nothing else from you now.”

“I am not your enemy.” Those words barely make it out of me, my chest hurts so fucking bad. “Don’t say that.”

Unsteadily, she uses the wall to try and stand. I try to help her, but she recoils, and it’s a dagger straight into the center of my throat. Nothing less than I deserve, though, isn’t it? Her distrust of me is entirely my fault. I’ve made her hate me. There has to be some way to fix what I’ve done. Please God, let there be away. But right now, my main concern is her physical safety. Knowing she’s been in danger all along is unbearable. I only decided to come here tonight a few hours ago. What if I didn’t? What if I arrived an hour later? The possibilities are going to haunt me for the rest of my life. From the floor, her father groans, shifting slightly.

“We need to get you out of here,” I say, anxious to get her free of this place. “Now, Lexie. I need to get you somewhere safe.”

She’s standing now. Leaning against the wall and cradling one arm to her stomach, regarding me warily. “How do I know I’m safe with you?” It’s so much worse that her question is honest. Not meant to hurt me. She honestly doesn’t know if I pose a threat. It guts me where I stand.

“You are the safest with me,” I say thickly, cursing myself. Wanting to erase the last two years so badly, my hands shake. “Please believe me. I’d die before hurting you. I’d never, Lexie. I’d never do something like that.”

Her father rolls over onto his back and slurs a few words before losing consciousness again. Still, the sound of the older man’s voice seems to scare Lexie, “I…maybe you can just give me a ride to…a motel maybe?” She pushes off the wall, her step uneven as she walks toward the stairs. “I need some things from my room.”

It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell her we don’t have time, but I’m just grateful she’s trusting me enough to leave with me, so I don’t argue. I just wait until she’s halfway up the stairs, then tie her father’s hands behind his back with my belt in case he wakes up before we leave. I have no problem knocking him out a second time, but Lexie has seen enough violence for one night. Cautiously, I walk up the stairs toward the light coming from a room halfway down the hall. This place is a far cry from my home. It’s elegant and clean, and tasteful, but it lacks any warmth whatsoever. It’s cold, like a museum. Turning the corner into Lexie’s room, it’s time to hate myself all over again. There is nothing on the walls, none of the expensive furnishings. Just four white walls, a bed, and a dresser that doubles as a desk. Several textbooks. She looks back at me over her shoulder as if judging my reaction, and I keep my features impassive, though I’m dying on the inside.

“What can I do?” I ask.

“How long do we have?”

“As long as you need.” It’s physically painful not to pull her into my arms when I’m standing this close, and she’s hurt. Sad. Yet full of more inner strength than I’ve ever witnessed in another human being. I’m lucky just to be in her presence. I fucked up royally. And if she allows me back in, I’ll never do it again. It’s probably, definitely, too much to hope for. Being allowed back in. She doesn’t even look sure about having me in her room. Let alone her heart. I was trying to protect my own heart, but I lost it instead.

“Um…” She closes her eyes to focus, a familiar trait I’ve seen in class countless times. “There is a black bag in the hallway closet. Can you just stuff anything into it from the bathroom that looks useful?”

Ask me to bring you a unicorn. I’ll find a way to do it. “Sure.” We work in silence, Lexie taking things out of drawers and adding them to the bag, which I’ve left open on the floor. I add toiletries from the bathroom, and once it’s zipped, I wait, watching her hesitate in the doorway.

“Lexie?” Conflicted chocolate eyes meet mine.

“I can’t just leave, can I?”

“You’re not safe here, baby,” I say softly, trying to keep the residual rage at bay because it’s the last thing she needs. Not to mention she’s had her fill with negativity from me. No more. “How long…how long?”

She shrugs, the saddest expression in her eyes. “My mom died five years ago. Ever since then, it’s gotten worse and worse. Although I never had a chance to talk to anyone about what happened behind closed doors, you know? I don’t think a person can evolve into a monster. It’s inside him.”

“I don’t know,” I say. “I became one, didn’t I?”

That gives her pause, forms a line between her delicate brows. “Yeah. I guess you’re right.”

She starts to walk past me, stops, standing close enough to fill my nose with cherry. “He told me if I ever spoke to you ever again, he would hurt me. Ruin you, have you evicted. Make sure you never got hired again. I didn’t mean to…hurt you. Or hurt your feelings, if that’s what happened.”

That revelation destroys me, sets me on fire. “Jesus, Lexie. You were protecting me? And I…I tortured you for it?” I twist the neck of my T-shirt, trying to calm down, but it doesn’t work. I’ll never be calm again “I’m so fucking sorry.”

She glances at the doorway, then back at me, eyes closed again in that way that says she’s thinking. “All I want from you now is a ride out of here, okay? And on Monday morning, you’ll stop.” She opens her shining eyes again. “No more bullying, Drake. If you’re really sorry, you’ll do that for me.”

Fuck. I couldn’t say one more single shitty thing to her if my life depended on it. Put me at gunpoint, and I’d rather get shot at than torture this girl for one more second. But I’m highly, painfully aware that with an end to the bullying comes an end to the possessiveness. No more scaring off guys who show interest in her. No more getting close enough in class to count the hairs on her head, to smell her sweet fragrance. And to tell the truth, I’m pretty fucking worried I don’t know how to give those things up completely. I don’t think I can physically do it. This addiction with Lexie isn’t something I can cut off. A leg would be easier to sever. But my hesitation is causing her eyes to worry. If I don’t agree to, essentially, let her go… she’s not going anywhere with me. And that means her safety won’t be guaranteed. I need it to be. More than anything.

“No more bullying,” I say, finally. A moment later, I follow her out of the room and down the stairs, trying desperately to count the hairs on her head before I no longer have the chance.

#tw domestic violence #toxic relationship #tw bullying

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ur-favorite-queer-queen · 4 years

Text

Enemies to Lovers

For Maribat March day 23 theme enemies to lovers

Master List

“Kent’s coming over.” Damian stated at breakfast, none of the other Wayne’s seemed phased by this, none but one.

“Again?” At Damian’s nod she continued, “I’ll be in my room or the Batcave so don’t bring him there.”

"He will also be bringing a friend over from that exchange program his school did with the one in London." Damian added, Marinette tensed a little bit but didn’t say anything else.

"Is Jon bringing a stranger over a good idea?" Tim asked.

"Tt, Kent said that he would make sure the boy wouldn't wander." Damian answered, after 9 years in the manor he still hadn't gotten rid of his tt habit.

"I'll be in my room then, I don't want Jon or his friend bothering me." Marinette announced to no one's surprise.

“Marinette,” She turned to look at Dick, “Why don’t you like Jon? This has been going on for almost a year now. Surely you could give him another chance. Or at the very least his friend?”

“Not interested.” And with that she finished her breakfast and went to go help Alfred with cleaning the dishes, like she did every morning.

Damian watched his younger half blood sister go, frown evident on his face. Marinette Wayne had been living with them for over a year now. While she was now 16, her opinion of one Jonathan Kent still had not changed.

After Bruce had a one night stand with her mother she had been born 9 months later, Sabine having no intention of telling Bruce. What she did not expect was that 15 years later she and her husband would be guilty of negligence and emotional abuse of Marinette and custody would be handed to her bio father. Aka Bruce Wayne.

Marinette changed her last name to Wayne and left her life in Paris behind. There was not much left for her there anyways. But she had never told her new family why she was so insistent on leaving Paris behind. More specifically who she was leaving behind.

The Waynes had gotten used to her bubbly personality in the manor, so they were shocked that when they sent her off to Gotham Academy she was dubbed the ‘Ice Princess’ the next morning.

Turns out after what happened in Paris, she refused to open up to anyone. Most days she was found sketching in her sketchbook, always alone. She still got straight A’s and even participated in a few clubs but never made one friend. It was concerning, how much she resembled Damian in that sense.

One day after patrol, after Marinette headed off to bed they started discussing Marinette's social life. Tim had joked that since she's such a ray of sunshine around them that she should meet Jon.

This idea was met with positive reactions, all of them agreeing that Jon would be a good influence for her. He was also her age so that was a plus. And he was Damian's first friend, perhaps he could be Marinette's.

That weekend they were proven wrong. Very wrong. Marinette refused to be in the same room as Jon, and when trying to gently push the boundaries she had set, she grew hostile. Something they had never seen from her for as long as they had known her.

One of their first thoughts was that she was scared of Jon, since he was half Kryptontian. But that idea was quickly shut down after Jason brought up the time she roasted Superman to his face. And had no regrets.

Then they figured it was because he was still a stranger to her. So they had him over more often. But after 2 months they realized that wasn’t the case either. Yet, none of them had the slightest clue why she was so against Jonathon Kent.

Not even Jon knew. All Jon knew was that whenever he walked into the same room as Marinette she grew annoyed. He knew she disliked him but that wasn’t what he was confused about. What made him confused was that he could sense her fear. She was scared of him, and he had no idea why.

He thought about telling the Batfamily, thought about telling Damian, but how would it go over that the latest addition to the Batclan was scared of him. Especially knowing how paranoid and protective they could be. So he just stuck to avoiding her at all costs, it wasn’t that big of a deal anyways.

Marinette didn’t see Jon as an enemy per se she saw him as an enemy, but he was just someone she strongly disliked, she had her reasons. And while Jon definitely didn’t see Marinette as an enemy, the more she ignored him, and he would need to ignore her, started to grate on his nerves. If she was in a room that he was going to enter he would have to wait for her to leave and vice versa. It was getting tiring and he was starting to dislike her more and more to the point she almost became his enemy.

Today would be no different except for one detail. That detail being a blonde haired, green eyed, sunshine child that reminded Jon of himself. While Adrien was a little too naive for his taste, they had gotten along great and he wanted to introduce him to Damian.

Adrien had seemed intrigued by the idea of meeting a Wayne. Apparently his father used to be a businessman and despite the fact he was from France and only moved to London a year ago, he knew of how famous the Waynes are.

Now here they were, in his dad’s car going to Wayne manor.

“Okay, you remember what I told you right?” Jon questioned Adrien, he was making sure the boy was prepared and didn’t accidentally stumble upon the Batcave or anything relating the Waynes to the Bats.

“Yes I know, no wandering around the manor, it’s too big and I’ll get lost. No staring in awe at the Waynes, they’re not the celebrities the press makes them out to be. And if I see a girl with dark hair, blue eyes, and looks to be a head shorter than me, I am to walk away immediately in the other direction and pretend I didn’t see her.” Adrien listed off.

“Perfect!” Jon, exclaimed he was going to add more but his dad interrupted him.

“Okay boys we’re here, I hope you have a good time Adrien.”

“Thanks Mr. Kent, I will!” Adrien cheerfully replied as he followed Jon out of the car. Sometimes this boy reminded Jon too much of himself.

“Master Jon, lovely to see you again. Is this your friend?” Alfred greeted them at the door.

“Yep! This is Adrien Graham de Vanily, Adrien this is Alfred, the Waynes butler but is more like a surrogate grandfather if anything.” Jon introduced.

“Nice to meet you Mr. Alfred.” Adrien stuck out his hand to shake.

“It is nice to meet you too Master Graham de Vanily, please just call me Alfred.”

“Then you can just call me Adrien, Alfred, my last name is such a mouthful.”

“Of course Master Adrien, now will you two be staying for dinner?”

“I don’t know, is it okay if we do?” Jon answered, secretly asking if she would be okay with it.

“It’ll be okay Master Jon. I will inform the others we will be having two guests stay with us for dinner.” Alfred led them inside, “Master Damian should be in the gaming room.” And with that he left.

“Come on, Damian is probably setting up some games for us to play.” Jon grabbed Adrien’s hand and started dragging him down a hallway.

Marinette could hear when Alfred had opened the door for Jon and his friend, she didn’t have super hearing but she had trained her ears for listening for certain things. Like the front door opening.

After a few minutes Alfred had come to tell her the two would be staying for dinner. It wasn’t ideal but she could live with it, all she had to do was give Jon and his friend the cold shoulder for at most an hour. Nothing new to her.

Now a whole hour had passed and she was getting hungry. She still had another hour till dinner so a small snack would be fine. But leaving her room posed the risk of running into Jon or his friend, and she didn’t want to risk an interaction with either of them.

Both of them are with Damian right now. There are no bathrooms near her room or the kitchen. If she hurries it will only take her 10 minutes to get to the kitchen, grab the cookies she made earlier, and come back to her room. And since Damian was banned from the kitchen this week, and both of his new friends are stuck with him, they shouldn’t be anywhere near the kitchen.

Of course when was the universe ever on her side. She was about to open the kitchen door when someone she thought she would never have to see again uttered her name, “Marinette?”

She knew the voice. It was the same voice that told her to stay quiet all those years ago when a vicious liar ran her mouth. The same one that said he was on her side then abandoned her the second things got too tough for him. The same one that didn’t speak up whenever she tried to defend herself, instead saying not to rock the boat. And now the owner of that voice was in her home.

She steeled her face into something cold and emotionless, despite the fear she felt in her stomach and turned to face him, “Agreste.”

“It’s Graham de Vanily now.” He corrected, both forgetting/not noticing the two other people there.

“Pretty sure it’s Agreste, you know, just like your father.” She bit back, venom laced into every word.

“He’s not my father, not anymore.” He replied, fists clenched at his sides, staring her straight in the eyes, confusing the other two boys.

“You sure, because you’re exactly like him, you know.” She raised an eyebrow and matched his gaze.

“I am nothing like him.” Adrien took a threatening step forward and that’s when Damian immediately stepped in front of Marinette, wanting to protect his little sister from this person who just threatened her. Damian was about to ask something but was cut off when Marinette moved around him to face Adrien.

“Really? Both of you put your own wants and desires above the well being of other people. Your father the people of Paris, and for you it was me.” Jon saw she was visibly shaking, from fear or anger he wasn’t sure. Both emotions were pretty strong for her, and when he focused on Adrien all the boy felt was guilt.

“Look Mari I’m-” He was cut off by Marinette’s angry shout.

“You would think that after all you put me through you would at least have the dignity to not call me by a nickname that friends are only allowed to call me. You know, people who actually care about me!”

“Marinette, I’m sorry okay, that was really dumb of me!” Adrien shouted back.

“Save it! You can pretend to regret your actions all you want, but people like you don’t change! That’s something you taught me!” Snack forgotten, Marinette ran back to her room and slammed the door. Locking it, she slid down the back of it and just cried.

“You’ve got a lot of explaining to do Graham de Vanily. How do you know my little sister? Why did she react to you like that? What did she mean by ‘all you put her though?’...” As Damian kept spitting out question after question Jon followed Marinette. Her cries were the only thing he could hear right then and there.

As he made his way closer to her, the cries stopped, only tiny sniffles coming out. “What do you want Kent?” He could hear the shaking in her voice no matter how much she tried to cover it up.

He sat down, his back resting on the closed door thinking about what he should say. “I wanted to see if you were okay.”

“I find that hard to believe. You wanted answers didn’t you?” She hiccuped in between words.

“A little bit.”

“Well once upon a time there was a teenage girl who wore rose colored glasses all the time. She saw the world in rainbows and sunshine, never knowing of the darkness. Then one day a lying fox came into her life, spreading her tall tales. The girl tried to warn her friends and family but they didn’t listen. The fox ripped off the girl’s glasses and forced her to see the world for what it really was. The girl’s love at the time came to her and told her to keep silent, after all the fox’s lies weren’t hurting anyone. It was then she noticed that the boy wore the same glasses she did, only his were much stronger than hers had ever been. But she loved him, so she believed him, that everything would turn out okay, that if it didn’t he would be by her side.

Slowly those around the girl turned on her, despite her doing nothing wrong. The boy who she once loved left her the second things got tough, never letting her stand up for herself. Soon the lying fox had gotten to her parents, things escalated from there. Now the girl moved to live with her bio family and everything was fine for a time. But then a boy who saw the world in sunshine and rainbows came around, and she was reminded of her past all over again.” Marinette finished her tale, her hiccups had faded away.

“You don’t like me because I remind you of Adrien?” He hesitantly asked.

“You don’t just remind me of him. Every time I see you I see him. But you’re also different from him. I don’t know. When you’re all happy and optimistic you're like him, but you also know how to be serious, which is something he could never do. I don’t know how to explain it but I thought if I kept you away from it would be alright. I really messed up didn’t I?” Marinette tried to keep the tears in her eyes from falling.

“Kind of. But if you want we can start over.” Jon suggested, he wouldn’t mind getting to know the Marinette Damian talked so fondly about, not that Damian would ever admit it.

He heard the lock unlock and he stood up as the door opened. He turned around and there was Marinette, her eyes were a little red and she had tears stains on her cheeks but she looked much better than before.

She stuck her hand out, “Hi, nice to meet you, I’m Marinette Wayne.” She looked up to look in his eyes and wondered if they were always so blue. And oh god please say she didn’t start blushing!

“Nice to meet you Marinette. I’m Jonathan Kent, but you can call me Jon.” Jon took her hand and shook it, his eyes looked into hers and he couldn’t help but think they looked so beautiful when they weren’t glaring at him. Unfortunately, Damian’s scream broke them out of their daze.

“ANSWER ME!!!”

“We better go help him.” Marinette pulled her hand back.

“Yeah we probably should.” Jon replied but Marinette was already racing to where they left the boys. Jon ran to catch up with her, mentally berating himself for thinking his friend’s sister was cute.

Marinette on the other hand was mentally berating herself for thinking that someone she used to dislike so much was now cute. Not to mention he’s her brother’s best friend. Well, Damian doesn’t have to know she thinks that.

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I’m back from the dead! As I said before in What If... (which you can find on my master list day 22) school sucks and has been burying my grave so I had to focus on that for a while. But I have this and What If... done and am planning on doing the other days I have not crossed off on my Master List.

This took so long to write and I’m already planning a part 2. Anyways hope u enjoyed!

@maribatmarch-2k21

#maribatmarch2021 #maribat #maribat march #marijon #enemies to lovers #planning a part 2 #stay tuned #marinette wayne #little sister marinette #big brother damian #adrien graham de vanily

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olivia-anderson-fanfic · 3 years

Text

Stalker X Stalker, Part 13

First

Perma taglist: @nathleigh @peachmuses

Stalker x Stalker taglist: @aespades @jayjayspixiepop @blueslushgueen @fan-written @seraphichana @nerd-nowandforever @toodaloo-kangaroo @khneltea @raeuberprinzessin

Tim was in the middle of a particularly boring meeting when a tiny buzz in his pocket alerted him that Marinette had left the house.

He blinked a little and, after mumbling a quick apology, pulled out his phone to silence it.

He couldn’t tell where she was going right then, it was too early to tell, but he noted absently that she was walking a little faster than normal. He shook his head to himself and resolved to check again once the meeting was over.

But he didn’t have to!

His secretary rushed in just as his last business partner left. She looked frazzled. “I tried to keep them out but they insisted and --!”

“Who? What? Janet, what’s wrong --?”

His attention was quickly pulled away from her, though, because Marinette was stumbling through the threshold.

He rushed forward to catch her on instinct, slipping his arms around her tightly. “Bean?”

She pulled her face out of his chest and smiled awkwardly at him. “Uh… hi, darling. Hate to disturb you during work, but...”

Tim frowned, concerned. He didn’t think she was clumsy (and he would have noticed by now if she was) and, now that he was looking, she looked a little pale. Was she sick? Did she even get sick?

And then he noticed someone standing in the doorway she had stumbled through -- no, she had been pushed through it, he thought as he took in the blond’s cold expression. Tim’s frown deepened and his grip tightened on his girlfriend.

Then, the blond sighed. “I’m Adrien, her friend from Paris. Don’t know if she’s told you about me, though.”

Tim’s eyes narrowed just a little. “Janet, it’s my lunchtime, right?”

“Yes, sir,” she said, looking between the three of them with barely concealed interest.

“Great. Lock the door behind yourself, please.”

Janet seemed a little put out but nodded and went to do what he asked without complaint. He made a mental note to give the poor girl a raise.

He waited until he heard the familiar click of the lock before turning his gaze back onto Adrien. The blond’s scowl had deepened. Tim bit his lip anxiously, considering what deescalation method would be best, but he didn’t know enough yet. He decided to just wait a little longer before doing anything. Marinette was safe in his arms and Adrien was still a little away so there wasn’t any immediate danger as far as he was aware.

“So, you do know his schedule, then?” Adrien asked.

Marinette wouldn’t quite look at the man. “We live in the same house.”

“Did you know before you were living in the same house?” He pressed.

She didn’t answer.

Adrien scoffed a little, shaking his head. “Of course. I knew I should have kept you in Paris where I could see you.”

Well, that’s a little controlling, a tiny part of Tim piped up. He would have said it aloud, too, but there was something bugging him about the blond. He couldn’t place it, but he was pretty sure he recognized him from somewhere...

It clicked and he took a half-step back with Marinette still silent in his arms. “Agreste, right?”

The blond winced. “Dupain-Cheng now,” Adrien said carefully. “In everything but name, at least, I’m still waiting to see if I can get a name change.”

Tim glanced down at Marinette for confirmation and she quirked her lips upward, which was bat for ‘yes’.

He relaxed just a little and let her go now that he knew it was safe. Okay. So, this was just her friend -- no, her brother -- and apparently he was annoyed about something. Their relationship, maybe, since he had brought her to Tim’s work.

… oh, shit, maybe this was Chat Noir. Tim’s eyes flicked down to where the ring usually was in pictures and, yep, that was the same ring but in white. That explained how he’d gotten there quickly despite the fact that he had to be on the no-fly list with a father like that.

But his anger seemed focused on Marinette, which was odd. Tim had figured it would be pretty even.

Tim cracked a grin. “Nice to meet you. You could have just called, though.”

Adrien looked a little sheepish, now, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “What I need to tell you isn’t really the kind of thing you can tell someone over the phone.”

“I meant a call for an appointment. You’re my girlfriend’s brother, I obviously would have wanted to meet you in person.”

He snickered. “You’d be the first. Most people don’t want to meet the family for a good long while.”

Tim shrugged. “I would have liked to know when you’d appear. Easier to prepare that way.”

“I see.”

There was a beat as the two men sized each other up before Adrien sighed and leaned back against the door. “I guess it’s easier to show you than explain it to you.”

Tim watched with interest as Adrien pulled an object from his ear and tossed it over. He caught it easily and turned the object in his fingers. It was like his comm but it was red with black polka-dots.

Oh. He knew what this was.

He handed it over to Marinette without even bothering to listen (Who wants to hear their own voice? No one. Ew.).

“Yeah, she listens in on all of my conversations, I know.”

Marinette and Adrien both froze up, then turned their gazes on him in shock. Tim might have laughed if Adrien’s expression didn’t morph into a horrified look.

“You… you know I planted bugs on you?” Asked Marinette tentatively.

“I’ve known since day one -- I think. Or, at least, near day one,” said Tim with a shrug. He pointed over at the flower on his desk, the bug hidden in the petals. “I don’t mind, though, that’s just part of being a vigilante, in my opinion.”

“You’re a --? Nevermind, that’s not the point here.” He sighed and shook his head. “No, it’s not. She does this to all her crushes.”

“I do it to anyone I care about.”

Adrien seemed to think he was insane.

Marinette, however, was nodding vigorously. “See?! I told you! It’s a thing!”

“It’s a thing,” agreed Tim. “Everyone in my family does it, too, though we tend to prefer trackers and following people to auditory bugs…”

“What the heck?” Muttered Adrien.

Tim continued on despite this: “Even Duke does it sometimes, and he’s the closest thing we have to sane, so it’s probably okay.”

Adrien pinched the bridge of his nose and glared at nothing for a while, clearly thinking hard about how to approach this. Tikki floated out of Marinette’s purse to go over and pet his hair in an attempt at comfort. It wasn’t working, but at least someone tried. Eventually, he pulled out his phone.

“Stalking: the act or crime of willfully and repeatedly following or harassing another person in circumstances that would cause a reasonable person to fear injury or death especially because of express or implied threats.”

“... I haven’t followed or harassed him,” said Marinette.

“And I’m trying to prevent injury or death. Have you met Marinette? Leave her alone for too long and she will find a new way to get herself killed.”

Marinette huffed. “Like you’re any different. I can already count at least three major villains that you regularly piss off and I’ve only lived here a few months.”

“One of the first things you said to any of us was that you had broken your leg but it was fine. I have reason to be concerned.”

Adrien groaned. “We’re getting off topic here, guys. The point is that this is the textbook definition of stalking --.”

“But neither of us feel even a little bit uncomfortable about it,” Marinette argued.

“That would cause a reasonable person to fear injury or death. Clearly, neither of you are reasonable.”

Tim shook his head. “That’s not really what the reasonable person clause is for. It’s for people that are trying to get money over nothing.”

“It still applies!”

Tikki shook her head. “Adrien, they’re not going to get it.”

“But they need to.”

“We’re still here, y’know,” said Tim. Marinette waved her arms in the air to see if they had somehow gone invisible.

“They don’t want to,” Tikki explained gently, ignoring them.

Alright, they were going around in circles it seemed and Adrien and Tikki weren’t responding well to their current arguments… so, new arguments were needed. A short recess was called so the two teams could discuss their rebuttals in opposite corners of the room. When had this turned into a debate? Who knows.

They decided to go after morality first (it seemed like the best bet since they were all vigilantes): “Bean, you’re happy, right?”

“Yep. You?”

“Of course. Happier than I was when I was single, that’s for sure.”

Marinette blushed a little and laced her fingers with his. “Great. Me too. Now, Adrien, don’t you want us to be happy?”

Adrien scoffed. “Okay, no, you don’t get to do that. I obviously want you to be happy but I don’t want you to be in an unhealthy relationship. Because that’s what this is: unhealthy.”

“Unusual doesn’t necessarily mean unhealthy,” said Marinette with a frown.

“No, it doesn’t, but… listening in on his private conversations? Following and tracking her? Don’t you think that maybe you should be setting more firm boundaries with each other?”

“... nah,” said Tim.

“How about this: if he crosses a line I’ll tell him.”

“You don’t have lines and that’s the problem!”

Tim shook his head. “Adrien, I can tell you’re trying to help but, really, it’s fine.”

… fine. Time for their last real argument.

“Would you prefer we ‘stalk’ some random civilian?” Asked Tim. “Or you? Don’t you think it’s best we’re together rather than with some person who wouldn’t be able to deal with ‘stalkers’?”

“Sure, but it would be better if you worked on yourselves before getting into relationships,” said Tikki with a sigh.

Marinette groaned. “Gods, this is never going to work. It’s a love language, Adrien, why can’t you just understand that?”

“Love?!” Tim and Adrien said in unison, though the expressions on their faces couldn’t be more different.

“You love me?” Asked Tim.

Marinette’s face flared red. “I -- uh -- um --... yeah…?”

Holy shit, he's won at life.

“I love you, too,” he said quietly.

“It’s only been a few months, what the heck?” Adrien whisper-yelled. They ignored him.

Marinette pulled him down by the front of his shirt for a short kiss. Then, she split into a grin. “I said it first.”

“Not really, I did,” said Tim, smiling fondly.

“No no no I did. I have two witnesses to testify. You said ‘too’, I win.”

“Hm. Nope.”

“You can’t just --!” She huffed. “Stop smiling like that, it's hard to argue with you.”

He only smiled wider. She pouted until he pecked her lips.

Adrien dropped into one of the business chairs and hung his head.

“... I think I made it worse, somehow.”

Tikki patted his hair again.

Adrien ended up accepting them, albeit a little reluctantly. Marinette and Tim were right, after all: it was better that they ‘stalked’ each other rather than some random person who could/would take it worse.

Now, apparently, it was time for the shovel talk.

“Her parents are huge softies so this falls to me. You’d better not hurt her. She may be an idiot and a stalker --”

“Hey!”

“-- but she is still my sister.”

Tim gave a tiny smile. “Yeah, I get it. You’ll kill me if I hurt her and, since you have the power of destruction, there won’t be any way to bring me back.”

“Oh, not quite. I’m going to ‘randomly misplace my ring’ and whatever happens while my ring is ‘missing’ is up to whoever happens to find it. You’d better hope that whatever you did was small enough that Mari would be merciful.”

Tim swallowed thickly. “Ah. I see.”

Adrien smiled a smile worthy of the model that he was and clapped Tim on the back. “Welcome to the family!”

“Yeah… yay…”

Marinette crossed her arms over her chest. “Are you done threatening my boyfriend?”

“No. If she --.” Adrien cut himself off with a laugh at the glare she sent him. “Kidding, kidding. Do you want some of Pere’s food.”

“Obviously. Tim, do you want some?”

Tim hesitated. Marinette tried not to laugh at how carefully he considered the question, as if he thought it was some kind of test and not two people trying to make up for taking up his lunch period.

“... sure?”

“Cool. Macaroons?”

Marinette scowled. “If you get us passionfruit macaroons I swear to the kwamis --.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’ll implement a systematic takedown of both me and everything I love, I get it. I’ll grab the tea ones you like.”

Tim raised his eyebrows. “You have contingencies for your friends? What’s mine?”

“... you do realize you have no powers, right?”

“Can’t believe even my own girlfriend underestimates me --.”

“I could drop an elephant on you and call it a day if I really felt like it.”

Tim paled. “I regret asking.”

Tim was sick the next day. That was kind of on him for forgetting that America has weirdly intense food safety standards, which meant food from other countries would likely mess him up. Also, he had no spleen. Wild that he had forgotten that but, nonetheless, there he was.

He groaned and buried his face in the pillow. How was it possible to feel cold and hot at the same time?

He heard the quiet creak of the floorboards and carefully opened one eye.

Marinette stood at the end of the bed, frown on her face, glass of water and a bowl of soup in each of her hands.

He reached a shaky hand for her and she handed him the water. He grumbled a little but his mouth was pretty dry, so he took it.

Once she was satisfied with his water-drinking, she took a seat beside him with the soup. When he made no move to eat it she rolled her eyes and set it aside temporarily in favor of pulling him on top of her. He smiled and rested his head on her stomach.

“You’re cute when you’re sick, maybe Adrien should bring over Pere’s food more often.”

He frowned. “But... work.”

“Don’t give me more reasons to do it,” she teased lightly.

When he pouted she leaned down to press a kiss to his lips. He stopped her with a hand.

“I’m sick.”

“And I’m a meta with an enhanced immune system that wants to kiss her dumbass boyfriend.”

He huffed a little but he didn’t try to stop her when she tried to kiss him a second time. He smiled and buried his face in her stomach, looping his arms around her like she was a pillow.

“How’d you know I was sick?” He asked after a few moments.

She snickered. “Well, I woke up and you were really warm instead of cold.”

“I’m cold?” Tim asked and, despite knowing that it was just a fact, he felt extremely insulted. Damian’s insults had nothing on the fact that his skin was, apparently, cold.

She smiled a little and pet his hair despite the fact that it was probably pretty gross at the moment. “It’s fine. I’m usually pretty warm so it balances out.”

“Awwwww, we reach thermodynamic equilibrium together,” he joked quietly. He let himself sink into her, closing his eyes.

She gave a tiny laugh. “Wow. Romance.”

He smiled. “It is.”

“Hm.” She pet his hair for a few moments longer before pulling them away. “Right, c’mon, get up. I made Alfred teach me to make your favorite kind of soup.”

He blinked an eye open. “Alfred? He knows?”

“Alfred knows everything, I think,” Marinette half-joked. She handed him the bowl and he sat up to eat some. “But I’m pretty sure everyone else at least suspects it, too. I followed all of you bats on Twitter, after all, and I only know a few of you out of costume.”

He nodded his understanding. “So all the secrets are out.”

“Yep. Now I don’t have to worry about accidentally calling people the wrong names when we’re all just hanging out. Still don’t know how you keep it all straight.”

“Nicknames, mostly. Less likely to slip up. Also Dick’s name works for both.”

Her lips twitched. “Yeah. I’m sure that’s why he uses the name Dick.”

“He never answered, y’know, when I said he had a degradation kink. You might be onto something,” he joked.

She grinned now. “I’m always right.”

“Hm. Sure.”

“Glad you agree. Now eat your soup.”

His grin dropped into a pout. “But my stomach hurts.”

“You’re sick, you need your energy to heal. Eat.”

He groaned but reluctantly took the soup when she pushed it into his hands.

She glanced over at the kid that they had taken in. They liked to stick around while Marinette made the food and, if possible, make it herself. She was pretty sure she was checking to make sure they didn’t drug her but Marinette didn’t mind. If it made the kid feel safer then she didn’t see why she wouldn’t allow it.

Now, the kid was mumbling curses in Russian.

She tipped her head to the side. She could chide her about her language but, considering the fact that it was in a language that she couldn’t conceivably understand, she let it go in favor of asking: “What’s wrong?”

“… I can still smell jalapeño on my fingers but my eye itches.”

“Oh.” Marinette handed her a towel. “Alright, Rordan, rub your eye with the side your hand hasn’t touched.”

Rordan wasn’t their actual name, obviously. It was actually Robin (it wasn’t an uncommon name in Gotham or anything, but she and Tim had both had to fight back their amused grins when they had… magically figured it out through completely legal means).

“Yeah, obviously, I’m not stupid.”

She grinned. “I can never be too sure anymore. I’ve cooked with rich kids before and you would be stunned at how little self-preservation instincts they have.”

The kid rolled her eyes. “Can’t be that stupid.”

Tim chose that moment to get off work. He stepped through the door, blinked at the second person in his house, then split into a grin.

“Hey, R...Ronda?” He greeted.

Robin smiled. “Still no.”

“Darn, maybe next time,” he said as if he wasn’t getting it wrong on purpose. He set his scarf on the coat rack and then walked over. “What’s for dinner?”

“For you? A microwaved meal that I’m going to try and pass off as my own cooking.”

Tim huffed. “Bean, come on, it was one time --.”

“And that ‘one time’ is enough to never let you in the kitchen again. C’mon, darling, three steps back.”

Tim groaned but stepped back until he was sitting on the kitchen island.

Robin turned off the burner. “Fajitas are done.”

He pouted playfully. “Can’t believe the kid is allowed to cook and I’m not. I’m an adult!”

“A hazard, that’s what you are,” Marinette teased, smiling. She let Robin set half of the food in her tupperware. “Want to eat with us this time?”

“No thanks.”

Tim nodded. “Alright. See you later?”

Robin glanced back at them from the windowsill. She gave a two finger salute, grinning. “Sure. Bye.”

They watched tiny fingers shut the window behind her before slipping out of view.

She reminded Marinette of an outdoor cat. Kinda just does what she wants and then drops by for food every once in a while; might want affection but probably not, do not approach unless approached; gets in a lot of dumb fights and then comes back with a messed up nose but acts like nothing happened and you’re insane for bringing it up…

Yeah. So, they now have another cat. At least they were both cat people?

Tim grinned as she handed him a plate. “Thanks, Bean. Any progress?”

“Nope,” Marinette said, taking a seat beside him and resting her head on his shoulder. “But she’ll see that we’re safe eventually. I can wait for that.”

He hummed his understanding. “Can’t wait until we make enough progress to be able to eat with her.”

She grinned. “Your bar is too high, darling. It’d be nice if she gave us her actual name.”

“Yeah… I’m still holding out for it, though. She has, what, six years before she is able to legally get a job and won’t need us? We should be able to have food with her once in six years, don’t you think?”

Marinette smiled. “Kwami, I sure hope so.”

Tim rested his head on the windowsill, a tiny frown on his face.

They were on a stakeout. According to Sources there was supposed to be a handoff within the next week.

Marinette sat down beside him and pushed himself up some to send her an awkward grin.

She offered him some Oreos from the packet she held.

There was a long silence as they sat there, listening to the warehouse through their comms. The most interesting thing so far had been the fly buzzing past one of their bugs.

“This feels like cheating,” she said with a sigh.

“I know, right?”

She rested her head on his shoulder. “Also you guys’ bugs are better quality than mine and I hate that.”

He snickered. “I can… ‘lose’ some bugs for you if you want.”

“You’d end up ‘losing’ too many.”

He thought for a minute, then shook his head. “Not if we put it in my watch.”

“Doesn’t it get stolen every other week?”

“Sure, but B replaces it all the time. Still more sustainable than bugging every item I wear.”

She thought about it for a minute before smiling at him. “I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

Marinette sat in a coffee shop, sipping a cup of coffee as she tried to explain to Kagami Tsurugi that, no, a full ball gown wasn’t possible in three days and that she should have given more warning. The power in their apartment building had gone out while she was talking to a client and her phone had low power so… nearest coffee shop. There was free wifi, places to plug in her phone, and, of course, coffee.

A glance at the time showed that Tim would be off work in about half an hour. Hm. She went alone. She figured she’d see him there, anyways.

She blinked as a hand tapped her on the shoulder, expecting to see Tim, only to find the friendly barista that had given her her coffee. She whispered to Kagami that she needed to hold and lowered the phone a little.

“Here, ma’am, I’m sorry I forgot this earlier. Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?”

Marinette stared at the new drink that had been shoved in her hand. There was some writing on the label.

Dont look now but theres a man watching you.

And an arrow pointing to her right.

Marinette smiled up at the woman. “It’s alright. Thank you.”

The woman didn’t seem all that convinced, so Marinette spun around in her seat. “Darling, you’re being a creep, get over here.”

“I’m not a creep! You were on the phone!” He complained, but he walked over and took a seat across from her.

“Excuses, excuses.”

The poor barista looked so confused.

She sent her a smile. “Thanks for looking out for me.” She handed over a twenty. “For the drink. Keep the change.”

The woman left and Tim pulled out his computer to do some extra work while Marinette finished up her phone call. Then, she smiled at him.

“A random lady found you. You’re off your game.”

He pouted. “I was being obvious on purpose. Wanted to see if you could find me.”

“Maybe I just think you’re cute when you don’t know people are watching you.”

He did little more than raise an eyebrow at her disbelievingly. She grinned and leaned across the table to kiss him on the nose.

After a few second’s thought she pulled out her phone and changed Tim’s name to Spy-derman.

He snickered at the tiny notification, rolling his eyes. “Great.” Then he squinted at the name. “I never asked: why Spiderman?”

She grinned. “Well, the first time we met we met on the roof of a super tall building… but the door was super creaky and loud so all I could imagine was you swinging up there like Spiderman… wait, actually, did you?”

He rolled his eyes again. “You were just too concentrated on your work to hear me.”

“... oh. Well. that’s less fun. I’m choosing to ignore that.” She grinned. “Still can’t believe you called me Frenchie of all things. Did you use all two of your brain cells for that one?”

He gasped as if offended. “It was a reference to that character from The Boys.”

“Of course it was. Fucking nerd.”

He pecked her on the lips. “You love me, though.”

“Hm. Yeah. I do.”

#i almost feel bad for ending it without getting them professional help #but like #they were never going to do that as characters #and there wasn't a natural way to change it #so...#happy?? ending #stalker x stalker #maribat #marinette dupain cheng #ladybug #tim drake #red robin

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thomaslightwood · 4 years

Text

“What if Paris was the first time we’d met?” || Thomastair University AU

I wrote this because 1) anxiety and 2) the idea of what would happen if Thomas and Alastair had met for the first time in Paris is killing my soul so here you go

•

Thomas closed his notebook with a sigh.

“I know you want to say it,” Thomas grounded.

Lucie looked at him with big innocent eyes. “Say what?”

Thomas rolled his eyes.

Lucie smiled at him and while they both stood up, she said with a grin, “Okay, I will say it. I told you not to drink last night. I told you.”

Thomas signed again. “Yeah, you did. In my defense, that guy was cute and I was nervous!”

“No excuses!”

“Mr. Lightwood.”

Thomas stopped on the exit and looked at the professor. “Yes, Mrs. Jahanshah?”

Sona Jahanshah handed him a list. “Your paper. I wished to give it to you yesterday but well.” You weren't here was left unsaid but they both knew what she meant.

Thomas felt ashamed. His Farsi class was his favorite and Mrs. Jahanshah was an awesome woman. Strict and rarely allowing compromises but amazing teacher. Thomas didn't want to let her down by missing her classes to get drunk. Especially on the second day of the new semester.

He hesitatingly took the paper and looked at it. A small smile appeared on his face.

“Thank you Mrs. Jahanshah,” he said. He hurried to Lucie who was waiting for him at the door.

“Well?” she raised an eyebrow.

Thomas grinned but only said, “Nothing.”

“Come on, let me see!”

“Nope.”

Lucie tried to grab it from him but she was too small compared to him. And in general. In the end she gave up but said this wasn't the end.

“One day I will read your work, Thomas Alexander Lightwood, remember my words.”

“Yeah, of course,” he said with a smile.

Together they left the university and went to the near coffee shop where they were supposed to meet with Lucie's friend, Cordelia.

Thomas was a little jealous how Lucie could find a soulmate so fast. It has never been so easy to Thomas. It will never be. Maybe he was just too awkward. Sometimes he felt like his insecurities were written all over his face.

Lucie's smile widened. “There she is. It seems her brother is also here.”

•

“I have work,” Alastair said.

“We all have,” Cordelia said.

“Okay, I have a lot of work.”

“Come on,” Cordelia arched an eyebrow. “You should take a rest from time to time. Or else your brain would explode.”

“Sure,” Alastair said sarcastically. “Tell me again, why am I here? To rest? By meeting people?”

“It's just Lucie! And one of her friends, Thomas, who is a really adorable guy. It would be fine!”

Alastair wasn't convinced but didn't say anything. Cordelia was determined to make him talk with people for some reason.

“Oh, I see Lucie. She's right there.”

Alastair followed his sister's look. He spotted her friend, Lucie Herondale, a small but lively girl. They have spoken a few times but Alastair didn't really know anything about her except the things Cordelia told him.

Next to Lucie was a tall, broad-shouldered guy with a shy smile that was laughing at something Lucie said.

Alastair felt like someone kicked him in the stomach.

“Fuck,” he breathed. “You didn't tell me your friend is so cute.”

Cordelia blinked at him and smiled playfully. “I didn't know he is your type.”

“He is now,” Alastair stated.

Cordelia couldn't help but grin.

“Fuck,” Alastair said again looking at Thomas.

•

Thomas and Lucie sat on the table with Cordelia and Alastair. He was introduced to the Cordelia's brother and Thomas got worried he'd do something stupid and would make fool of himself in front of the beautiful guy next to him and-

Thomas forced himself not to space out too much but to listen to what the rest were talking about. He did his best to join the conversation but it wasn't easy to concentrate.

At some point Alastair said he's going to the bathroom and Cordelia went to ask for more coffee. Thomas breathed out and turned to Lucie.

“Why didn't you tell me your friend's brother is so cute? You know I don't know how to act around cute guys!”

“You are doing just fine,” Lucie said, trying to calm him down.

“Well, I was drowning in anxiety. But... I think it was sort of... the normal anxiety?”

“You mean...”

At this moment Cordelia returned to the table and Lucie didn't finish her sentence. Thomas was grateful. He was diagnosed with social anxiety and didn't feel comfortable talking about it in front of strangers. Only a few close to him people knew and Thomas did not want too many people to find out about it. It made him, well, anxious.

When Alastair got back he said he should hurry up for his next lecture and said goodbye. Thomas was a little disappointed.

Cordelia, Lucie and he had almost an hour until their next class so they remained in the cafe. Thomas wanted to know more about Alastair Carstairs but he thought asking Cordelia may look creepy and out of place. He may ask Lucie to do it. Or he himself to ask. Some day.

•

Thomas was nervous. It was his first time in a new class where he didn't know anyone (he didn't know many people in the university as a whole but still).

As he entered the room he tried to calm down. Took a deep breath. His anxiety was still there but after Thomas took his seat he felt like he wouldn't get an anxiety attack in front of the whole class and will survive this. Probably.

He prepared to take notes, took out a few pens (just in case) and tried to breath normally. He reminded himself no one was paying attention to him. There were a lot of people in the room, he was just another guy in it. It was going to be fine.

“Hey, can I sit here?”

Thomas turned to the person talking to him and blinked. Alastair Carstrais.

“Sure,” Thomas said after a second.

Alastair smiled a little and Thomas couldn't help it - he returned the smile.

“The room is just so full. I was worried there weren't any left seats.”

The room was indeed full. Thomas was happy he got here early so he could sit at a place he liked.

“Cordelia didn't mention you like history.”

“Cordelia is awesome but I'm not very close with her,” Thomas said. “And I'm a little bit of history buff,” he admitted.

“Enough history buff to take a class for it, it seems,” Alastair said with a small smile.

Thomas laughed. “Yes, apparently.”

The professor walked into the room and it got quiet.

Thomas listened with interest to the lecture, taking detailed notes. But he was also excited because of the person sitting next to him.

•

Thomas wasn't sure how much time had passed but he knew he was hungry.

“Hey,” Thomas turned to Alastair who had a little strange expression as he said this. “Wanna, like- I mean if you're not busy, to have lunch with me? Or even just coffee if you don't have a lot of time?”

Thomas' stomach did a flip but it was a good kind of flip, nervous and excited.

“I would be happy to have lunch together.”

Alastair smiled. It was a real, warm smile. “Okay.”

They went out of the university and Alastair said he knew a good place in the area. Thomas followed, careful to remember the way to it. He may need to come here again, hopefully.

As they sat, menus appeared in front of them almost immediately. Thomas ordered tea, Alastair - coffee until they waited for the food.

They talked about the lecture. It was about the history of the Ancient Near East. Alastair was half Persian and Thomas was fascinated to hear a few curious history facts about the Persian culture from him.

“I admit,” Alastair said. “My love of the Persian stories and songs is influenced by my mother. Sometimes she says it's her duty as a teacher to tell us, Cordelia and I, as much as she could about our heritage. Which of course has nothing to do with her profession but we don't say anything," Alastair laughed a little.

“Your mother is a teacher?” Thomas said curiously.

“Yes, for a few years now. She's a professor here.”

Thomas' eyes widened. “Wait, your mother is Sona Jahanshah?”

“The same,” Alastair said before drinking from his coffee.

“Whoa,” Thomas said with a smile. “I should have thought about it earlier. You have the same eyes.”

Alastair's eyes sparkled at this. He looked amused. “Most people would say we share the same temper not eyes.”

“This too,” Thomas laughed.

The conversation went in different directions a few times. They found out they share a great love for music. That Alastair's favorite book is The Prince by Machiavelli. Thomas in returned said his is Rubaíyat́ of Omar Khayyaḿ. They promised to read each other's favorite books because they haven't read it before. Thomas found out Alastair can play a piano and sing. Thomas wanted to hear him.

“What made you choose to come to France?” Thomas asked at some point.

“It's mainly because me and Cordelia wanted to study here. Paris is one of the cities where we were the happiest. So we moved here.”

Thomas wanted to ask about his father but he knew from Lucie Cordelia and Alastair's father was a sensitive topic so Thomas decides to leave it alone.

“How about you? Are you a big fan of France?”

“Not exactly,” Thomas laughed nervously. “Actually, coming to France doesn't seem very wise. My father wanted me to go study in Spain or Wales. Which would be logical because I know Spanish and Welsh. My father has connections in Spain and Lucie's father is Welsh. I started to learn French only a year ago. But...” Thomas tried his best to explained it. When he was saying it out aloud it sounded like a stupid decision but it makes sense Thomas' head. “It's about the university. The history of this city. I admire it. Lucie and I talked about it and our parents let us study here only because they know we're together.”

The waiter came to serve them the food and Thomas paused. He even didn't remember ordering a second time.

“You probably think I'm silly," Thomas said, feeling stupid.

“No, no," Alastair shook his head. “Not at all. I think I understand.”

Thomas looked at his eyes. He believed him.

“Also, you speak Spanish, Welsh and learn Farsi and French? I'm impressed.”

Thomas smiled a little shyly at that. He didn't mind compliments but coming from Alastair felt different.

The time was passing and they barely noticed. They both missed their lectures but as much as it was unusual for Thomas he barely cared. He did not regret the time spent with Alastair.

They exchanged numbers and social media. Alastair promised to send him more book recommendations. Thomas kept smiling the whole day.

•

the tree: sorry luce i can't have lunch with you today

small bean: ooooh, and why is this, little john?

the tree: i'm just not hungry

small bean: yeah yeah and i'm cinderella

small bean: are you seeing someone? someone dark haired maybe?? 👀

Thomas blushed a little and put his phone back into the pocket without answering.

“Ready to go?”

“Yep,” Thomas followed Alastair through the exit and together left the university.

They sat in the same place as the last time. Even on the same table. Thomas liked that.

“Okay, I suggest not to miss our lecturers this time,” Alastair said.

“Agreed,” Thomas said, laughing. “I can't survive this class only on Lucie's notes.”

They talked about books. They both have read each other's favorite book now and had thoughts to share. Alastair passionately talked about one quatrains of Rubaíyat́ of Omar Khayyaḿ while Thomas was eating from his toast. Since he left London he has forgotten the pleasure of talking about books with someone who was as much investigated in it as Thomas.

Same as the last time the conversation went in different directions. They talked a little about themselves.

“I miss my friends and family,” Thomas admitted. “We were always together, very close to each other. It was weird at first when I came here, without them being around.”

“Tell me about them.”

With almost every other person Thomas would think they were trying to make small talk. Alastair though, Thomas knew, didn't speak things he doesn't mean.

So Thomas told him. He told him about his sisters but not much about Barbara who had passed away because he felt like this was too personal. About the Merry Thieves and a little bit about how they're families were friends.

In return Alastair told him about the cities he had traveled to and what he likes about them, which places were beautiful, the history of them. After his parents' divorce when Alastair was almost 18, he, Cordelia and Sona moved to Paris because the siblings wanted to study here.

They could talk for many more hours but an alarm sharply interrupted them. It was Alastair's phone. He shut it down.

“This is for me. My lecture starts after ten minutes.”

“Oh,” Thomas couldn't hide his disappointment. “Okay.”

“Hey, do you want... to meet tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow is Saturday?” Thomas said, confused. “We don't have classes.”

“I know,” a strange look appeared on Alastair's face. Thomas in shock realized it was nervousness. “Actually, I... I’m asking you to go on a date with me.”

Thomas' heart skipped a beat. It was impossible to stop the smile on his face.

“Okay.”

•

“You're nervous.”

“I am not,” Alastair said defensively. Cordelia arched an eyebrow. “Okay, maybe a little bit.”

“Try not to freak out too much. He's just a guy.”

“A guy with a cute smile.”

“Yeah,” Cordelia laughed. “But you're cute too.”

Alastair frowned at her. “Don't you have homework?”

“I have,” she admitted. “But I also have a brother who has a date.”

Alastair sighed. “He is far from the first guy I have a date with.”

“But he's the first after you-know-who.”

Alastair shook his head. “His name is not a trigger. You can say it. And it doesn't matter. It was a long time ago.”

It wasn't too long ago and Alastair maybe wasn't too happy about his situation with Charles but Cordelia didn't need to know this.

Alastair out on his shoes and coat. The weather wasn't too chilly.

“Actually, I meant... Doesn't matter,” Cordelia said. “Just have fun, remember he is just a guy as nervous as you and don't break his heart because he's Lucie's friend and I like her.”

Alastair couldn't help it but smile. He kissed his sister's forehead and went out.

•

Thomas saw Alastair coming and tried not to look too anxious or look if his clothes were okay.

And he tried his best not to stare at the gorgeous view Alastair was.

Alastair led them on the way to the place he had in mind. It was far from the center, in a small alley that had one beautiful fountain. As they entered the small restaurant Alastair said a few words to the staff member and she immediately led them to their table.

It wasn't what Thomas imagined. They went upstairs. This floor was definitely emptier than the first one - the tables were farther from one another, with only a couple of people on them.

Their table was on the balcony. Thomas' breath stopped when he saw the view. He barely noticed as they sat and the waiter put menus in front of them.

Paris was beautiful during the night. The city of lights. The Eiffel Tower stood gold and sparkling.

“It's beautiful,” Thomas said and turned to Alastair. He caught him staring at Thomas with a smile on his lips.

“It really is,” Alastair said and also looked at the view before opening his menu. “I got lucky to reserve a table here. Part of which was that my mother and the owner are good friends,” Alastair laughed.

Thomas smiled and also opened his menu. “So. What do you recommend?”

Alastair carefully scanned the page he was on. “The toast is awesome. And the desserts are unique. Here is the best tiramisu in Paris.”

“You really like coffee, don't you?” Thomas said with a smile.

“Yes,” Alastair said. “I admit, I do love coffee a hella lot.”

Soon the waiter came to take their orders. After he left, Thomas said, “I'm curious about something. How did you come out? Wait, are you out to your family? Is this a sensitive topic? Oh god, I'm so-”

“It's okay,” Alastair laughed. “Do you always ask every guy such questions on the first date?” he teased.

Thomas blushed a little. “Well. Sometimes,” he cleared throat. “Anyway! Answer my question. Or don't if you don't want to.”

“I'll answer,” Alastair said, trying to hide a smile.“I came out to Cordelia first, a few years ago. Then she convinced me that coming out to Mâmân wouldn't be a disaster. And she was right. It was difficult at first. But it's mostly fine right now.”

The waiter came with their drinks - ginger beer for Thomas and black decaffeinated coffee for Alastair.

“How about you?” Alastair asked after they were alone again. “Are you out?”

“I am kind of out to my family and friends too, yes.”

“Kind of?” Alastair arched the eyebrow.

“It's a funny story actually,” Thomas said. “At first, one of my cousins, Anna, came out as non-binary lesbian. Not long after this Matthew, one of my best friends, came out as bi. And you see, in some way they cleared the path for me. When I came out no one was even surprised. I think they kind of expected everyone to come out as gay at some point,” Thomas laughed.

He didn't mention how sickly anxious he was to come out because he was worried his parents would react bad. Or how he worried his friends and sisters won't understand. Or the irrational, freezing fear to let even one person know something so personal about him.

They talked more about London. Alastair said he was there only once but would like to visit again. They joked that Lucie would drag Cordelia there for the first holiday that appears.

At some point they started to talk about Paris. Which museums they have visited so far. Alastair was scandalized Thomas hasn't visited the Louvre yet. They agreed they should go to one museum together some day.

It was a beautiful night, warm, with a nice breeze. They talked for long, so long they were the only ones left in the restaurant. In another time, in another life the same was happening. They were both different people, with different pasts and so different memories, unsaid words and broken hearts. But as the city of light was watching over them tonight they had this sweet memory, echoing through the centuries.

#thomastair #thomas lighwood #alastair carstairs #tlh #tsc #the last hours #the shadowhunter chronicles #lucie herondale #cordelia carstairs #tsc fanfiction #university au #feel good fic #sav's writing #paris #tsccreatenet #my post

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writer-panda · 3 years

Text

Hit on the groom and what became of it - chapter 2/Take me out maybe (with a sniper rifle)

Disclaimer: I don’t own Miraculous or Batman (and other DC characters). This is just a fanfiction.

Chapter 1 -|- Next

--------

As much as Marinette disliked the meeting with the female entourage, when the time came to start working on Adrien’s suit she wanted to scream. She could clearly see that he was uncomfortable with even the gentlest touches. She did her best to make it as non-invasive to him as possible.

They had absolutely no privacy whatsoever. The Bodyguard (Gerard; His name was Gerard) and Nathalie observed their every move. Marinette was half-convinced it wasn’t her who was under watch.

The professional atmosphere was far cry from her usual working environment. When Uncle Jagged, Clara Nightingale, or even Diana Prince came to her for clothes, it was always very informal. They would joke, gossip, or exchange stories while she worked. Now? Now she was wary of even speaking with Adrien.

Likewise, the boy refused to meet her eyes or open his mouth.

At some point, when she was trying to find the right shade of white for the undershirt, she noticed a make-up stain that was not there before.

“I’m sorry, but I will need to request you remove the makeup. It is staining my materials.” She informed Nathalie and Gerard coldly. It was all she could do to resist calling the police there and there. Sadly, the commissioner was good friends with Gabriel, so it would most likely just end her career and make it worse for Adrien.

“I was assured it would not leave stains on materials. Please accept our apologies. We will cover the costs of destroyed materials,” Nathalie informed her in an equally cold voice.

“I see…” Marinette’s lips thinned. Inside, she was screaming. But there was nothing she could do. The hit was in place. Soon Adrien would be safe. It would go without a hitch. It had to.

As the group was leaving, she could’ve sworn the Bodyguard gave her a mournful look. As if he shared her sentiment, but was powerless to stop it. She’d know that look. She saw it in the mirror all too often.

---------

The Wedding (even the narrator started to capitalize it) came faster than Marinette wanted to accept. And there were still no words about the kidnapping. She made sure to specify that they were to take him before he was married or no payment. Did she not make the money enticing enough? Were there already attempts that were stopped without media coverage? Maybe she forgot to check some boxes?

A million scenarios ran through her head as she wandered through the alleyways.

The whole event was happening in Gotham Botanic Garden. Whatever the weak excuse was given to the press, Marinette knew the real reason: it was one of the few places in the world where Gabriel could marry his son to Lila legally without messing with courts. And bribes were said to be cheapest there.

As the designer for both the bride and the groom, she was invited to the main ceremony.

Lila was kind enough to even give her a seated place… right next to Chloé Bourgeois.

Marinette had a hard time deciding if it was bigger punishment to her or the mayor’s daughter. Ultimately, the two girls did their best to not look at each other during preparations. At first, that is, because the first chance she got, Chloé to drag the designer to a remote garden gazebo in a secluded corner when she was least expecting it.

“Wha-!” Marinette was about to protest, but the blonde covered her mouth. She seated her on the bench and took the seat on the opposite side.

“I’ve been friends with Adrien since we were kids.” She announced in the usual ‘I’m-better-than-you’ tone. “I also know that you’re not always an idiot.”

“Gee! Thanks, Chloé… I’m honored with your praise.” Marinette deadpanned, interrupting the heiress. “Now get to the point”. She really hoped her dress wasn’t damaged or she might just turn to murder.

“Fine. You worked with Adrien on his suit.” She paused, and for a moment, just a brief moment, her mask fell. That was not what Marinette expected. She has never seen Chloé so… so… The designer’s brain lacked the word to describe how her childhood bully looked like. “How is he?” The blonde asked, her voice almost trembling.

Marinette opened her mouth, but no sound came.

A moment passed.

“Not good.” She finally admitted. “During the measurements, he winced even at delicate touches. Plus I was called in last week to make some adjustments to his garments. He lost weight between then and now. And he wore makeup on his right arm. On both occasions.”

“Makeup?” Chloé’s eyes widened.

“Yes. I would’ve probably missed it if I didn’t soak my fabric into makeup removed beforehand.” She thought back fondly to her brilliant idea.

“They hurt him!?” Chloé burst out after few seconds. “I will show those… those…”

“Believe me, I share the sentiment.” Marinette nodded sagely. She needed plan B and needed it fast. There had to be something… “I slipped him a burner phone on his way out. I doubt they found it. If it gets really bad, he can try calling the police.”

“You are devious sometimes, Dupain-Cheng.”

“Thanks. I try.”

“So… they are coercing him into it?”

“I think so. He is resigned to his fate it seems, but he tries to show some rebelliousness. It wasn’t his father’s idea to hire me and Lila would rather walk to the altar naked than wear anything by me.” Marinette cringed. Any interaction she had with the Liar made her feel almost dirty. And forcing politeness was physically painful sometimes.

“I got that much from the fact he hasn’t reported it yet. That burner phone was a good move, but Adrikins was always too obedient.”

“And I’m sure you had nothing to do with it,” Marinette muttered, but Chloé didn’t hear her. The heiress somehow managed to derail her rant into telling the story of her entire childhood.

Marinette listened only with one ear, filtering the information for something useful. The rest of her consciousness focused on something else. She started to seriously entertain the idea of using Miraculous to get Adrien out. She would need a combination of several powers though. Trixx was the obvious choice. Illusions would be a great asset. Maybe the Tiger, for the Power Up? If Roaar didn’t exaggerate her power, she would be able to put a distance between them and the city before anyone even realized what happened. She would need to time her illusion right though. And there were the American Heroes to watch out for…

If she didn’t use miraculous immediately, she might get a drop on the bodyguard(s) and then make an exit using Kaalki’s power when they were alone. Disable cameras, take out the guards, get in, portal out. It was feasible but still involved too many risks. If anyone connected miraculi to the operation, Ladybug would be in great trouble. She couldn’t endanger Paris like that… not even for her partner and best friend.

Then, there was the most dangerous plan. Don’t use Miraculi at all. She was confident enough in her skills to enter undetected. Maybe even sneak out. The question was, would Adrien make it. She could sneak him Plagg’s ring. Chat Noir would have no problem leaving any prison. But… there would be the same risk as when any other Miraculi was connected and the whole point was not to use them in the first place.

“Ugh!” She let out an angry sound that startled Chloé.

“What’s with you, Dupain-Cheng! Don’t you see I’m opening my heart to you!?”

“Shut up, I’m trying to do something productive.” She snapped at the blonde.

“Why, I…”

“Silence. Your tale was entirely unhelpful. Let me focus.”

Gotham. What was in Gotham that could help her? The most corrupt city, famous for its high crime rate, mad villains, and eternal gloominess. Even now she could feel some of it resonate in the air. As if the whole city was one big Akuma. Probably no help from the establishment… The police were more likely to put a bag on her head and deliver her to one of the crime families…

“What in Gotham can help…” She voiced her musing loudly, causing Chloé to peak up.

“Waynes!” She proclaimed. “That serial adopter would jump at the chance to get another orphan…”

“Adrien isn’t an orphan… Yet.” Marinette grumbled. “But he will be married by then, so I would need to plan a double homicide… Meh. No great loss.” She said without a shadow of care. It was like the thoughts about the murder were completely normal for her.

Chloé shivered. “Remind me not to get into your way when you’re in that mood.”

In the distance, the orchestra was starting to play, signaling the guests that the ceremony would start soon.

“Ugh! Hawkmoth it!” Marinette raged as she ran to the clearing. She no longer had the time and if she was the only one missing, Lila would make her prime suspect for anything that happened. Blast it. She would get one more chance. Screw the career. She could survive living somewhere in Argentina if it all went to hell.

-------

Adrien already accepted his fate. His father and Lila made sure that all avenues of further rebellion were closed. He exhausted everything there was.

To this day, he was grateful for that burner phone from Marinette. He made sure to hide it but always have it somewhere nearby. It became a form of a lifeline for him. A one-off save-your-life ticket. It would only work in short term, but at the rate everything was going, it could potentially save his life…

He missed his life before the mess with The Wedding started.

Hell! He even missed Plagg’s stinking cheese. He would maim for some camembert.

“Adrien,” Gerard spoke solemnly. There was no need for more words. They both knew what was about to happen and Adrien took just a bit of solace in the fact that he was not entirely alone, even if no one could help him.

“I’m ready.” He spoke, barely above a whisper.

Before he realized it, the ceremony was undergoing. Lila, in her stunning dress, held the attention on herself like a pro. No one even thought about looking anywhere but at them. The dress was similarly just so… Lila. It made all of her features all the more proponent. Yet, there was just a small, barely noticeable, stitch that said Marinette. A smile ghosted his face. There was some good out of this. He managed to make his friend famous. After today, no one would deny her style.

“Should anyone present know of any reason that this couple should not be joined in holy matrimony, speak now or forever hold your peace.” The marriage officiant spoke. Adrien didn’t even care what convention the wedding was in.

The silence swept across the garden.

No one dared to even breathe loudly.

Adrien lowered his head. Here, the last…

There was a rustle somewhere close to the front. He looked up, a small glimmer of hope appeared in his eyes.

Marinette was standing there, her backs straightened and one finger held up. “I…”

She felt the gaze of hundreds of guests on her. They were the most influential people in the world of modern business. Waynes. Luthor. Queen. Burgeiose. Agreste… And they all kept staring at her.

She tried to swipe the hall with a glance, but something attracted her attention. A glint of light somewhere in the distance.

“Watch out!” She shouted, tossing a chair she was sitting on just a moment ago.

The metal item sailed through the air until it crashed in the middle of the alley.

With an arrow sticking out of it.

For a second (which felt much longer) everyone stared at it.

Then the mass panic started. People got out of their chairs and started trying to get out of there. They trampled one another as each considered themselves to be the most important, hence first to evacuate. It was chaos.

Among the mass of people, Marinette tried her best to make it to the altar. She saw that Gerard and several other hired bodyguards were of similar minds.

She managed to squeeze through the crowd the fastest, only to find Lila knocked out and Adrien and the Officiant missing. Adrien’s cousin (best man) and Alya (bridesmaid) were both nowhere to be found. They probably ran away. There was still no trace of the Groom. That is until she saw a giant mass of brown mud dragging the boy away.

The sad thing? Adrien wasn’t really protesting much.

Gerard was the next to make it through. He noticed Adrien a tad quicker and tried to chase whoever it was that tried to kidnap Adrien, but a fist made of mud slammed into him, sending him flying away.

“Holy Hawkmoth!” Marinette cursed once more. Okay, so far, it was only a curse for her, but he deserved it.

In the distance, police sirens could’ve been heard, but with how fast the mud was escaping, Adrien would be long gone before the police arrived. Marinette had to do something.

Wait… Why am I trying to stop the kidnapping I ordered? She suddenly questioned herself, freezing in place.

Two guards rushed past her and started firing at the mass, but the bullets seemed to be about as effective as Parisian police when dealing with Akuma.

The last Marinette saw of Adrien he was being taken into the sewers.

-----------

After the police arrived, Marinette was of course first to be interrogated. (“Gee… Thanks, Lila”). They wanted to know how she noticed the arrow, did she see the attacker, how did the kidnapper looked like, and dozens of other questions. By the end, she was exhausted. Somewhere after the sixth question, her phone pinged. Luckily, the police didn’t bother with checking it and believed that it was just a worried friend.

Not the kidnapper trying to contact their employer.

Finally, after the police released her and informed her that no further information was needed, she could contact her Maman.

“Sweety? Are you okay? I’ve seen the news!” Was the first thing that came through

“Yeah. Don’t worry. I’m perfectly fine. The police held me back for questioning a bit. I’m going back to the hotel and be back in Paris first flight tomorrow, okay?”

“Stay in Gotham! I’m coming to pick you up!” Her mother informed her.

“Wha-!? But there is no need! Seriously Maman! There’s no need to trouble yourself.”

There was a silence on the line for a moment and Marinette could feel that her mother was trying to glare at her through the phone. It worked.

“Fine… I’m at Wayne Plaza, room 30-14.” She relented, not wanting any more arguments. She would still have several hours to sort the mess with Adrien. What could possibly go wrong?

Trying her best to be careful, Marinette left the site of crime and traveled to the industrial district. The taxi driver couldn’t be bothered less about why she wanted to go there. He just wanted to get paid and leave.

The only-slightly-creepy aura of the completely silent area full of factories and warehouses served as a perfect background to contacting the kidnapper. Marinette, after making sure she was truly alone, activated the voice-scrambling app on her burner and dialed the number that sent her the text about successful work. Her Maman showed her that, thinking she wanted it for a prank. Or that’s how Marinette presented it anyway.

“Who is this?!” A voice on the other side of the call asked.

Marinette took a deep breath before answering. “I was led to believe you have what I wanted.” She tried her best to channel Chloé into her voice.

“Ah… Yes… There’s been a… complication.”

“What do you mean ‘complication’?” She hissed into the phone call.

“Um… I had the package… But then someone stole the stolen package…” Whoever that was informed her.

“Who?” She demanded.

“Last I checked, Lawton was the one who had ‘im… But it might’ve changed. But don’t worry, Boss… lady?” They asked. Marinette didn’t give either confirmation or scolding, so they continued. “I’m still in the game.” With that, they hang up.

“What did I just get myself into…” She moaned. Then, the realization hit her. “What did I just get Adrien into…”

Elsewhere, Adrien was starring into a pair of curious sea-green eyes.

----------------

#maribat #miraculous #miraculous ladybug #batman #dc #DC comics #MLB #mlb x dc #BAMF Marinette #villain marinette #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste

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scapegrace74-blog · 3 years

Text

New Ways of Turning into Stone, Chapter 3

A/N As promised, Jamie returns in this chapter. He has an appointment to keep, after all. Because I can’t think of anything more creative, this chapter is entitled “Second Appointment”. For previous chapters, your best bet is to check out the story on my AO3 page.

The week both crept and flew past, like one of those dreams in which she ran until her lungs burned, but never managed to get anywhere. Kinetic motion trapped in amber. Claire never did tell Geillis about her excursion to Corstorphine Hill over the weekend, embarrassed by how it had ended.

And now it was Thursday. She’d opted for a protein smoothie for lunch, a meal with no chance of leaving leafy residue between her teeth. It was likely wasted vanity. As two o’clock drew near, she bargained with herself to abandon any hope she may be harbouring. Jamie Fraser had shown no interest in participating in the psychiatric process during his first appointment. Fraternal obligation had brought him to her office once, but he didn’t strike her as a man who yielded the reins of his life easily. It wasn’t likely he would return.

When it came his distinctive knock, crisp and insistent, caught her unawares, even though she’d just been staring at his name in her planner. She hastily pushed the items on her desk to one side, patted uselessly at her curls, and called out for him to enter.

“Good afternoon, Doctor Beauchamp,” he greeted cautiously. “Miss Duncan told me tae come straight in.”

There was something different about him today. His clothing, certainly. Instead of casual wear, he wore trousers and a button down, wet splotches over the shoulders attesting to the fact that it had begun raining again. And while he still took up an inordinate amount of space in her small office, he seemed... diminished, somehow. A paler echo of the fireworks display of his first visit.

“Of course. Please have a seat, Mister Fraser.”

“Jamie, if you will,” he corrected as he settled gingerly into the armchair. “Mister Fraser was my Da.”

Something about his tone and the fact his laser blue eyes wouldn’t meet her own as he spoke the words caused her to lean into his statement.

“Did your father pass away recently, Jamie?”

A moment, an indrawn breath of panic, and then it was cleverly masked with a wry glance.

“Aye, last year. An’ yer no’ very subtle, doctor.”

“I didn’t realize subtlety was called for,” she parried. “You made another appointment, and I specialize in grief counselling. Why else would you be here?”

Despite the fact that it wasn’t productive from a psychiatric point of view, she enjoyed his reluctance to hastily expose his inner demons. Too often, her practice required her to work carefully in order to avoid shaping the pliable emotions of her patients. While obviously hurting, Jamie had an unflinching, unalterable quality that she admired. Not to mention that the intellectual game of cat and mouse they were playing was wildly stimulating.

“I suppose I enjoyed our conversation,” Jamie teased. “An’ Miss Duncan’s shortbread.”

With an awkward squint that she imagined was meant to be a wink, her patient rose to investigate the current offerings on her tea table.

“Och, petit fours!” he exclaimed with childlike glee and perfect French pronunciation. “There was a café none too far from my flat in Paris tha’ made these. I’d often grab some on my way tae the office.”

He returned to the desk with a small plate of the pastries, pushing it towards her as he settled into his seat.

“No, thank you. I’ve just eaten.”

Like a searchlight, his bright eyes didn’t miss much. He glanced significantly at the half-empty plastic smoothie container to one side of her desk. Rather than chide her for her austerity, as Geillis frequently did, he instead made a show of biting into each of the four little squares until there was nothing left but crumbs. Her stomach muttered in complaint.

“What did you do in Paris?” she asked as he finished his snack with a contented sigh.

“Oh, a wee bit of this and that,” he demurred. In response to her exasperated look, he continued, “I started out at the Bourse. Futures, options, arbitrage, that sort of thing. I have a good ear fer languages, sae from there I went into foreign exchange. Import export, and the like.”

“You’re a financier?” she asked, somewhat more incredulous than she ought to be. She wasn’t certain what she had pictured James Fraser doing for a living, but greasing the wheels of capitalism definitely wasn’t it.

“Was,” he corrected. “I quit an’ came home tae Scotland last year.”

“When your father died,” she guessed.

“Aye.”

She once again had the sense of standing in front of a locked door that Jamie had no intention of opening. Rather than hammer uselessly on its stubborn surface, she nimbly diverted the conversation sideways.

“What do you do for work now?”

A slow blink followed by a dawning smile indicated he was aware of her stratagem.

“I’m a carpenter.”

It was rare for Claire to be truly surprised by people. She made a living reading their unspoken cues. Twice in the same conversation was unheard of.

“A carpenter?” she repeated as though she hadn’t heard him perfectly well the first time.

“Aye. Like Jesus, ye ken?”

With a quicksilver grin, Jamie launched into a description of his current occupation, which involved the making of reproduction antiques and custom pieces for clients around Scotland. She realized with a start that she’d read an article about his business in a popular local magazine.

International financier. Self-made entrepreneur. Tall drink of water. James Fraser had a lot of things going for him. And yet here he sat, paying her by the hour to listen to him avoid talking about whatever hardship had befallen him.

She mentally composed a list of the topics he was deftly avoiding with his charming anecdotes. His father’s recent death. The reason behind a radical change in career. Living in the city on account of unspoken ‘family obligations’, even though his verbal reminiscence of the Highlands was so poetic it damn near made her cry. There was something raw just below the surface of his nonchalance, and her innate curiosity cried out to find out what it was.

“You told me last week that your sister, Jenny, insisted you attend counselling. But you said that you’re handling matters fine on your own. Can you tell me why your sister believes otherwise?”

It might have been amusing to see such a large man squirm in different circumstances. His left hand furrowed through his hair, setting the autumn waves on end. His mouth, so recently relaxed and mobile as he eagerly shared the details of his craft, froze in a pained frown. She considered whether she had pushed too hard too soon.

“I gave a lot of thought tae what ye said when we parted last week,” Jamie began at last. “Tae be honest, it haunted me. Jen kens me better than anyone, an’ while I like tae complain tha’ she meddles where she doesna belong, the truth is she’s truly scared fer me. An’ even if I dinna agree tha’ my lifestyle is cause fer concern, I owe it tae her tae try tae sort myself out. I owe her far more than that,” he finished with a rueful shake of his head.

“What kind of lifestyle has your sister so worried?” she probed.

“Whisky, women and song,” he quipped, before adding, “Weel, I canna carry a tune, but twa out of three isna half bad.”

He tried to smile away the awkward tension that descended on the office, the air ripe with unspoken words. Claire felt disappointment whirlpool in her gut. Just another charming rake, after all. It really shouldn’t matter, and yet somehow it did. More than she dared to admit.

“Yes, well, the road of excess leads to the palace of consequences, ” she sniffed at last, angry at herself for sounding like a schoolmarm. What a bore she must seem to him, with her regimented behaviour and rigid morals.

Jamie rose abruptly, and for a half-second she imagined he might lunge at her, or storm from the room. Instead, he spun around to face the door. Without a word, he untucked his shirt and began to expose his lower back.

Claire was momentarily stunned silent. Just as she managed to draw a deep enough breath to censure Jamie for his highly inappropriate strip tease, the golden velour of his lower back transformed without warning into a furrowed landscape of scar tissue, ripples and craters left by some massive trauma. The air left her lungs on a questioning sigh.

“I ken all about consequences, Doctor Beauchamp,” he stated. “I live with them every moment of my life.”

Her fingers found the knotted skin, surprisingly warm and mobile beneath her touch. A shiver shimmered over the unmarred muscle of his flanks.

Before she could find any appropriate words of apology, the office door opened and Geillis stuck her head in. She barked a cough upon seeing Jamie’s state of undress and Claire’s position, leaning across her desk. Doctor and patient jumped apart like opposing magnets.

“Sae sorry for the interruption, but yer three o’clock is here. Should I tell her ye’ve been... delayed?”

Jamie muttered an obscenity under his breath which Claire whole-heartedly seconded. There was no way Geillis wasn’t going to be utterly insufferable about this.

“Mister Fraser was just leaving, Geillis.”

With a lewd wink and a nod, the door closed.

“Look, Jamie...” she began just as he apologized. “I’m sae sorry, lass.”

They both laughed nervously. Jamie finished tucking his shirt into his pants and turned to face the desk.

“I hope this willna cause ye any difficulties with Miss Duncan,” he began, eyes wide with concern.

“No more so than usual,” she sighed. “Geillis is a good friend. She just... doesn’t know when to quit, sometimes,” she explained.

“Sounds jus’ like my sister. Perhaps we should introduce them.”

She smiled, struggling to find something else to say to move past the moment. She could hear Geillis and her next patient conversing just outside the door. There was no time left for subtlety.

“Will I see you again next week, Jamie?” she asked, giving up on finding a more oblique way of phrasing the question that was reverberating through her mind.

Jamie’s bashful smile dipped towards the floor, causing his hair to fall in front of his eyes.

“Aye. I’ll even keep my clothes on, if ye ask nicely.”

It was that smile, that hair, those eyes, that carried her through the rest of her week, aloft on the anticipation of something utterly forbidden.

#my writing #outlander

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