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selfaware-bungou-stray-dogs · 7 months

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Oh, this fun October!

Self-Aware! BSD Characters x GN! Reader

Description: BSD's Cast First Halloween in real world! Full of cute moments. You are sure, that you will enjoy this Halloween as much as them.

Fluff

Happy Halloween, everyone!

Warning: OOC. English is my second language.

____

Pumpkin

You walked inside the kitchen, looking unamused. The room was cowered in pumpkin pulp.

In the middle of the room sat the reason for the whole mess.

Akutagawa was clutching the pumpkin remains in his hands. Rasenmon was hovering above him, its maw was covered in orange pulp.

You left him for one minute. And now, only two pumpkins from seven were left.

You rub your forehead.

"What did I tell you?"

Akutagawa looked a tiny bit guilty. Just a little. Somewhere deep inside him, Ryunosuke regret not listening to you. Probably.

"Don't use my ability for pumpkin carving."

"And what did you do?"

"Used it. It's faster that way."

Akutagawa looked at the mess he created.

"Just let me get hold of it."

Rasenmon strike forward remaining pumpkins.

***

At the end, Oda and kids will do the carving. As for Ryunosuke's pumpkins... Well, backed pumpkin is delicious.

Ryunosuke wasn't good with pumpkin carving.

But, he is good at cutting food. At least, cutting pumpkin.

______

Leaves

You were carrying red maple leaves in your hand. Red, orange and yellow leaves were crunching under your feet.

Shibusawa, dressed in kimono, was looking near you. He was twirling a single maple leaf in his hands.

"Sorry, if it's not that interesting." spoke you, looking at Shibusawa. He smiled at you.

"Don't worry, [Y/N]. It is interesting." Shibusawa looked up. "This autumn full of imperfections... And it makes it so perfect. So interesting."

Shibusawa looked at you again.

"I heard, that there is a kiosk, where you can buy pumpkin latte. Let's buy some."

He walked further down the road.

You hummed and walked after Shibusawa.

_______

Tea party

You breathe in the tea aroma. Golden, warm liquid looked magnificent.

You taste it.

"Mm! Apple Cinnamon tea. You outdid yourself, Ivan!"

Ivan smiled, drinking some of his own tea.

"I am glad, that you liked it, [Y/N]."

For a few minutes, you two enjoy the warm drink with some bubliks¹.

Warm tea was perfect for October. Especially, if you are drinking it with a friend.

_______

Candy apples

"Ranpo, for the future reference, never try to make candy apples again." sigh you, trying to tear off the caramel-coated apple from Ranpo's forehead.

Detective just waved his hand and took a bite from the apple you already removed.

"Come on, [Y/N], it's not like it was completely my fault! You opened the door when I had the plate with caramel apples in hands. You startled me and made me drop apples on me."

You licked some caramel off your fingers and tear another caramel apple from Ranpo's cheek.

"Yes... But you were the one, who added so much caramel, that apples are practically became coated in thick sphere. And you are the one, who start carrying apples before caramel hardened."

Ranpo only tool another bite.

_______

Moonlight

The moonlight was bright tonight.

Under the moonlight, fully transformed Atsushi was running. Magnificent white tiger was fast.

And you were riding on his back.

It was a spontaneous decision, but, after learning, that Atsushi manage to fully control his tiger form, you proclaimed, that you want to ride on his back.

That's why you two were here.

Atsushi stopped running and start slowly walking.

You gently scratch behind his ears.

White tiger huffs.

______

Fog

Fog was heavy. So heavy, you could barely see your fingertips. Thankfully, Herman Melville was with you.

Old man was skillful in navigating through the fog. With small compass in his hand and will your phone's flashlight, you two manage to navigate through the woods near your house.

The road were destroyed because of the rain, so you two need to walk through the woods.

Soon you will be home.

______

Haunted

The screams of terror were coming from the "House of Horrors".

A few minutes later, Nikolai walked outside the attraction, whistling a cheerful tune.

Soon, people and actors start running away from the attraction.

He was holding your left hand. In your right hand, you were holding cotton candy.

Nikolai grinned.

"It was fun, Birdy, isn't it?"

You took a bite from your cotton candy. At first, Nikolai didn't like the "House of Horrors". So, he decided to join actors into scaring people. In his own way.

"Yea. Especially, when you pretend to be sewn in half by a fake saw... You didn't..."

Nikolai immediately stopped you.

"Ketchup and red paint, don't worry, [Y/N]. So... To the next attraction?"

You nodded and Nikolai start leading you to the next ride.

______

Black cat

You turned your back on one second and Fukuzawa was already done. How you could lose him? Where did he go?

You start searching for him through the nearest shops.

You found him in the pet shop.

Local animal shelter decide to show some of their animals, dressed in Halloween themed costumes, in hopes, that they will be adopted.

Fukuzawa, man, who was almost two meters tall, was cradling a small black kitten, that was dressed as a bat.

"Good little bat..."

It was so strange to see Fukuzawa, whose expression remains stern, tickling kitten's chin.

But... Should you really take the kitten?

***

On your way back, kitten was held against Fukuzawa's chest.

_____

Spider

It was in your house...

It was terrible...

It was awful...

The spider crawl at your direction. You jumped on the nearest person and hold to them for dear life.

"DAZAI, KILL IT!"

Dazai himself looked uncomfortable.

"I don't want to touch it!"

Spider crawl closer.

Dazai, with you on his back, jumped on the nearest person.

_____

Few jumps later

______

"CHUUYA! KILL IT!"

"And how do you expect me to do it?" asked Chuuya, who, somehow, still was standing, despite the fact, that you, Dazai, Kirako, Higuichi, Pushkin and Q hung on him like grapes on a branch.

***

Tetchou was the one, who killed the spider, while Tachihara and Teruko tried to make all of you let go of Chuuya.

______

Rats

"When I was little, I start feeding some rats from the alley, that I passed on my way to school. Soon, they start bringing me little gifts. Rocks, twigs, old paper. But, one day, they brought me money. So, I gave them better food. Rats quickly learned, that if they want good food, they need to bring me money... So, Fyodor, do you think, I could train a new rat pack to bring me something good? I have a sandwich" asked you, leaning towards Fyodor.

He pinched your nose.

"Stop it. Cake is for tomorrow's party. I won't steal you a piece of it. Even if you give me a sandwich."

You stuck out your tongue.

"You are no fun."

Fyodor chuckled and patted your head.

"Let's go, Al Capone from National Geographic Channel, let's play checkers."

_____

Vampires

Today, everyone woke up because of loud noises and sounds of something being thrown around in the library.

A quick check up reveals, that it was probably Bram. No one see Count Stoker since yesterday.

Or you were being robbed.

You (because, if it is Bram, you could calm him down) and Fukuchi (because if it is a robbery, he will calm thieves down), enter the library.

For the next ten minutes everything was quiet.

Then you opened the door. You looked slightly angry.

"Okay. Confess immediately. Who in the world gave Bram "The Twilight Saga" and called it a good book about vampires?"

____

Party

The party was a blast.

Pumpkin lanterns were lit.

Everyone was wearing costumes.

Kenji, Q, Elise, Kyouka, Katsumi, Kousuke, Sakura, Shinji and Yu just returned from trick or treating and were showing, what they got.

Food was delicious. Drinks were refreshing.

You heard Kaji's voice.

"Hey, everyone, the camera is ready! Gather around!"

You were stuck in the middle of the photo, surrounded by all of your friends. You were holding Karl in your arms, Ayatsuji's cats were sitting near your legs and Fukuzawa's new kitten was sitting on Fukuzawa's head. Kaji continued.

"Okay. On three. One, two, three..."

All of you, together, exclaimed.

"HAPPY HALLOWEEN!"

And another group photo was taken.

____

¹Bublik (also booblik or bublyk; Russian: бублик, tr. búblik, plural: bubliki; Ukrainian: бублик, romanized: búblyk) is a traditional Eastern European bread roll. Like a bagel, it is a ring of yeast-leavened wheat dough, that has been boiled in water for a short time before baking.

#self-awarebsd #self-awareau #bungou stray dogs au #bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd anime #bsd x gender neutral reader #gender neutral reader

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temporalbystander · 5 months

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Okay so I'm back (not sure for how long) but I need an answer to this and it amazes me I can't find it on the internet already. Seriously, everyone in the Miracuclass has to be subsisting on caffeine during some days right? How has NOBODY made a list of what their coffee orders would be? How is that NOT a widely available story writing tool?

I'd make it myself but, wouldn't you know it? I have no idea when it comes to coffee. I've even tried googling what stereotypical orders would be and still get nothing that helps... So I'm putting it out here. Further explanation under the cut.

Why do I need the entire class's coffee order? Because it's important in my story. Why am I being so obsessive for a story nobody else but me will ever see? Because if I don't get this exactly right it will completely ruin the scene and drive me insane.

Here's the setup, OC Faybon is in this new world with villain Chat and a very late night Akuma has kept everyone awake. Determined to make an impression on everyone that he's not the same Faybon they remember he got coffee for the class. Cue everyone being shocked at the guy they've all barely spoken to, getting every single one of their coffee orders exactly right, Ms Bustier and Lila included.

Here's my thoughts just based on the (very very) little I know about coffee:

Rose would probably have something naturally sweet but without any additives (Im thinking something with honey maybe?) Due to the fact she's sweet enough already and has health problems.

Juleka? I keep wanting to say a caramel machiato but I have no idea what a machiato is. I only say caramel because it's still sweet but a bit richer. Going for that "darker" tone of hers.... Okay just googled the machiato and I feel like that may fit better for someone like Mylene but I'm leaving that up to you anyway.

Speaking of Mylene I'm imagining hers to be a similar order to Rose (somebody's getting a similar order to Rose because she (or anyone really) needs to bring up that she doesn't take sugar only for someone else to say they do. Hey Faybon's sleep deprived in this too, he got the orders right he's allowed to screw up handing them out.)

I'm thinking Chloe would probably be the one with a frappuccino. What comes before that is anyone's guess.

Sabrina? Either just a regular coffee or maybe a latte?

This is where I start hitting the wall. Miss Bustier's is decaf something since she's pregnant in this world too. Max, Alix or Kim would probably also have a decaf or maybe an iced something? Max because of the whole caffeine isn't good for your brain and Alix and Kim because they're athletes.

I have no idea what Alya or Nino would want. Same with Ivan. Nathaniel may want something sweet as well? And Zoe may also go for either a latte or something simple due to her time in new York. With a splash of honey because she's currently coming off a very bad cold and her throat is killing her.

Lila is given a whole allergenic soy based thing, because Faybon just KNOWS she would pull something, and yet will not say a word when the cup she's given is actually her preferred coffee. Though she will look at Faybon warily.

As for the two heroes? Marinette gets hers early so it doesn't really matter but yes, it is stacked with espresso shots. While Adrien gets something almost as caffeinated but with extra cream. Not necessarily because it's part of his order but because Faybon just finds the idea of it hilarious.

#miraculous ladybug #mun post #ooc #story ideas #writing help #coffee orders #miraculous coffee orders #help #my thoughts #crazy mun

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stillgrows · 4 months

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starter for @decomposited

Sigma's heterochromatic eyes were focusing on the surface of their latte—the swirl in the foam was perfect save for some distortion on the side closest to them, where they'd already taken a sip. Ivan had started at the cafe shortly before they had joined the Armed Detective Agency. They were still a little unclear on some of the details that led up to that arrangement (something about him not being a threat on his own, something about the government not wanting to waste the resources necessary to keep him contained with that in mind), but the details didn't really matter at this point. He'd been thrilled to see them, and they found the presence of a familiar face nearby to be comforting.

No one had told him about Dostoevsky yet, and Sigma was not going to be the one to broach that subject. No one would.

The subject they were going to broach was different. "Vanya," they began, using the nickname they'd picked up from Gogol what felt like years ago, pronouncing it properly, "do you ever miss your old life?" Before Dostoevsky, they didn't add.

It was a loaded question. They knew that. But it was a loaded question for themself, too; they had no memory of their prior life to miss, and yet they still felt like they were missing something without the ability to know what. Even Dostoevsky didn't have the answers, like some part of them had furtively, foolishly thought he might. Were they different now? Or did they always have to contend with an innate lack of belonging?

Sigma only had the faintest of ideas about what Ivan was like before—hints gleaned from his interactions with Gogol, from the shared history those two hadn't parted from despite so much changing. They didn't even know how much Ivan actually remembered.

#sigma // in character #bsd // verse #ivan // decomposited #decomposited #haha hiiiiii cutely twirls my hair

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allegra-writes · 3 years

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"Upside Down Soy Iced Caramel Macchiato"

Aleksander Morozova x Reader

Coffee shop AU

Warnings: none, this is pure fluff.

I usually steer clear from physical descriptions, but this is a special little something for the Decaf Coven, @amayatheowl @cocoamoonmalfoy @seolaseoul and @chaoticpete @bleh-bleh-blehs just this once, this is a brown eyed, brunette!Reader. If you prefer, you can read the Darklina version on AO3

MY MASTERLIST | BUY ME A COFFEE

"Here, Ivan? Really??" Aleks raised an eyebrow, judgement clear in his voice as he glanced at the sign above their heads announcing the "Brewed Awakening" cafe, a new age, yoga friendly, law of attraction or some other hippie bullshit better suited for sunny, spiritual, hip Shu Han than for gloomy, cold, cynical, spartan Os Alta. And definitely not suited for the coldest and most cynical of Os Alta Business men, Aleksander Morozova.

Ivan shrugged, his stoic face carefully blank, as always.

"Fedya likes it. And they make a mean cold americano"

Aleksander let out an sceptical scoff, but followed his friend inside, there was no time for arguing and no time to look for another coffee shop, their next deposition beginning in less than twenty minutes, so he would have to, as Fedyor would say, suck it up. He was under no delusions about the quality of the coffee offered at this place, in his experience, these kind of venues were far more concerned with decorations and ambience than with the grounds they used.

Sure enough, the interior of the cafe looked like something out of a magazine, mismatched wooden chairs and tables artfully combined, royal blue couches on top of white plush rugs creating little cozy conversation spaces, empty cages hanging from the ceiling, candles in every available surface…

There was a small queue in front of the mahogany counter.

"Maybe we should leave, we'll be late"

"Non sense" Ivan replied, "if we have to sip our coffee on the way back, it will still be worth it, trust me"

Aleksander was about to protest, but the words died in his throat when a costumer stepped aside, and he saw her: Dark hair piled on a messy bun atop her head, warm coffee eyes and a smile that seemed lit up the entire shop, if not the entire city.

His mother had told him legends when he was a little kid, fairy tales about the Grisha, seductive creatures of supernatural beauty that could control the elements at will, often leading men to their downfall with their bewitching wiles. As he watched her, shinning brighter than the golden Firebirds painted on the wall behind her, there was no doubt in Aleksander's mind that this girl was one of them, a sun witch, like Sankta Alina, who had bravely walked into the shadow fold and faced the Black Heretic, breaking the spell and turning him back into a man with a true love's kiss.

The girl turned away from them to start making the drink for the guy in front of them.

"Sorry!" She called back, "The other barista bailed on us, so it's just me today. If you can give me five minutes, I'll be right with you"

Ivan made a face, opening his mouth to politely decline, but Aleksander beated him to it.

"No problem, take your time. We're not in a hurry"

Ivan frowned, but Aleksander was technically his superior, so he didn't say anything.

"Really? Thank you-" The girls eyes' met Aleksander's over the pastry display case, and froze, doe eyes making her look pretty much like a deer in the headlights. Aleks' heart skipped a beat.

The girl shook herself,

"Right. What- um… what would you like to order?"

"Just an espresso for me, and an iced americano for my friend" Aleksander announced.

"Zoya wants a soy latte" Ivan reminded him.

"And a soy latte" Aleks repeated, obediently.

"Perfect. I mean, sure, right away. Just let me finish this Macchiato here and I'll… make them. For you."

Aleksander felt bad for the obviously overwhelmed girl, but he would be lying if he said her flushed cheeks and nervous fumbling wasn't the cutest thing he had ever seen.

The time seemed to fly as he watched her, dainty little hands dexterously turning nobs and levers and pressing buttons, until she finally stepped forward, presenting them with two drinks on the counter, but Aleksander only had eyes for her, and the way a single, rebel curl escaped her bun right under his attentive watch. His hand twitched with the urge to reach out and tuck it behind her ear. And maybe, just maybe, cup her face on the way back, stroke those adorable pink cheeks, bring her closer to him, lean in and-

"What is this?" Ivan's stern voice tore him out of his daydream.

"Um, an americano and an upside down iced soy caramel macchiato…" The girl replied, "That- that was your order, right?"

Aleksander's heart twisted inside his chest at the uncertainty in her voice.

"Yes, that's exactly what we ordered" He reassured her quickly, closing his mouth around the straw of his designated cup for good measure. The girl gasped, eyes zeroing on his lips, making the butterflies inside his stomach take flight.

"Delicious" he declared, blindly handing her a bill that the girl distractedly took and stuffed into the register, eyes never leaving his.

Ivan wondered if either of them had realized his boss had just handed her a fifty. Gruffly, he grabbed his drink,

"Well, we should get going now. There's an important meeting and we're already late"

Taking his boss' elbow, he practically dragged him away as the barista girl waved them goodbye.

"See you soon" It sounded like a question. Aleksander threw her a smile over his shoulder,

"Very" he promised. Ivan was starting to think he had made a terrible mistake showing him this place…

…

There was a tall, handsome dark skinned boy next to his barista when he walked into the cafe the next day, poking her in the ribs and telling her something apparently very witty if the way she threw her head back laughing was anything to go by. Aleksander felt the strange impulse to bite his hand off.

However, his unexpected desire for violence left as suddenly as it had arrived, when the sunshine girl spotted him, her face breaking into an impossibly bigger and brighter smile.

"Upside down iced soy caramel macchiato guy!"

Aleksander beamed: she remembered him.

Well, kind of. She still had his order wrong, but to be honest, Aleksander was too happy to care.

"That's me" He laughed, "or, you know, Aleksander, for short"

"Aleksander" She repeated, and he could have died right there and then. His name was probably the most common name in the entire Ravka, but it sounded different from her lips. It sounded special. "I'm Y/N" she offered him her hand to shake. He took it, and swore he could feel sunlight fill his veins where his skin met hers.

"Y/N" he tried it, loving the sweet taste it left in his mouth. Sweeter than yesterday's macchiato. A throat cleared somewhere beside them.

"Right" She seemed to wake from the spell first, "Same as yesterday?"

Aleksander nodded,

"Of course! That was the best iced macchiato I've ever had"

Y/N smiled again, positively glowing as she made her way to the espresso machine.

Yeah, Aleksander could drink overly sweet coffee drinks until he got diabetes, as long as he could see that smile every day for the rest of his life…

#aleksander morovoza #aleksander kirigan #aleksander morozova x reader #the darkling #the darkling x reader #fluff #coffee shop au

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jomiddlemarch · 3 years

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Point and Click

3. It was an immense relief that when Alina arrived for work the next day in jeans, a button-down shirt and a fleece vest, her hair in some complicated kind of braid, she still looked entirely like the twenty-six year old woman she was and not like the sixteen year old he’d spent most of the night fretting she would, forcing him to either feel like a lecherous monster or offer her a huge severance for letting her go after one day. He’d expected to spend the day at home, on-call for any questions that might arise or any emergency Papa-cuddles Mila absolutely couldn’t live without, but Alina had shooed him out the door and told him not to come back until 3pm at the earliest.

“If you don’t want to go to the office, you could try that new coffee-shop on Alta,” she suggested. “I’ve heard they make a mean matcha soy latte. Mila and I, we’re good here.”

He left, ready for his phone to buzz with a text from Alina within the next forty-five minutes, when the Mila was done being on her best behavior and insisted on a bowl of mint chocolate chip ice cream with extra sprinkles; Ivan and Matthias almost always caved at the sight of a tear or pout, so she’d learned to put up a fuss since the likelihood of getting a treat was pretty high. He wasn’t dressed for the office and he’d probably just freak out his employees with what would seem to be a surprise visit by the boss, so he headed over to the coffee-shop and ordered the latte to go, picking out a two-top by the front door so he could leave easily.

It took an hour for the phone to make a sound and when it did, it was Fedyor, calling to check on Aleksander. Calling, not texting, because Fedyor knew how old-fashioned Aleksander could be and how poorly he would express his emotions using emojis.

“Hang in there, Sasha, the first day will be the toughest,” Fedyor said, huffing a little, which meant he was out jogging. “It’s an adjustment for everyone—”

“It’s Mila I’m worried about,” Aleksander said. “This is the first time I’ve left her with a sitter since, well, you know—”

“I do, but kids are resilient and our sweet Mila is exceptional and Alina seemed to hit it off with her yesterday and omigod, that was an ill-advised choice,” Fedyor said, confusing Aleksander with the sudden pivot from reassurance.

“What?”

“No, not you. Just a woman wearing a matching bedazzled jogging suit along with her terrier, things you can’t unsee, you know?”

“Alina did seem to get along well with Mila,” Aleksander said, picking up the sensible thread of the conversation. “She told me to leave, she told me not to come home before three.”

“You didn’t go into work though, you’re not talking with your Aleksander-the-Architect voice,” Fedyor said.

“I have an Aleksander-the-Architect voice?”

“Oh yes, it’s glorious, all your Oxbridge comes out and there’s this feeling like blueprints rustling, slashing pencils…you don’t sound that way at all now,” Fedyor said. “You sound a bit at loose ends, if I’m being honest, darling.”

“I’m at a coffee-shop. On the corner of Alta and Gregory. Alina told me about it,” he said.

“She is an amazing nanny, she’s got you following her directions to a tee! Did she tell you what to order too?” Fedyor crowed. He’d take credit for finding Alina until the end of days but thus far, Aleksander couldn’t blame him.

“Yes,” Aleksander said.

“And did you?”

“Yes,” Aleksander admitted. “And it’s very good.”

He only made it until 2:30 and that was after listening to the grammar podcast Fedyor recommended, doing crossword from the Sunday Times in blue ink, checking his work email and sketching out an addition for Fedyor and Ivan’s house on a series of paper napkins. When he walked in the front door, the house was silent. He called out, “I’m home” just as Alina rushed up to him, shushing both politely and ferociously, no mean feat.

“Mila’s still napping,” she said in a low voice.

“You got her to go down?” he asked, picking up on the soft, staticky sound of the baby monitor and then the rich, spiced scent of freshly baked goods. For the past six months, Mila had only been napping for him if she had a cold or if he capitulated and let her sleep on his chest while he dozed in his study.

“Yes. Around 2. She was wiped out, we had a busy morning. I’ll warn you, she’s going to lobby hard for a muffin for dessert tonight,” Alina said.

“I try to be careful about how many sweets she eats,” he said.

“I know. It was on the job description Mr. Kaminsky gave me. They’re zucchini and carrot muffins sweetened with applesauce and just a smidge of honey. I only iced half of them with cream cheese frosting,” she said. “She helped make them, but she’s still working on saying zucchini properly in English, Mandarin and Spanish and she thinks they have something to do with giraffes at the beach. Zoos and bikinis, I guess.”

“You can take off early,” Aleksander offered. “I’m home. Don’t worry, you’ll still get paid for the hours.”

“I’d rather stay if that’s all right,” she said. “I told Mila I’d be here when she woke up and I want her to know I keep my promises. And you aren’t going to be home early every day. We need to get our routine set from the get-go.”

“Oh, yeah, okay,” he said. “I’ll just, I’ll be in my study, if you need anything—”

“I’m good,” she said. “You wanted dinner on the table at 5:30, right?”

“Yes, I mean, I can do that, you don’t have to—” he fumbled. She tilted her head to the side, a little like an inquisitive bird, and shrugged.

“Actually, I feel like I kind of do. That’s the job. I was going to make coconut red curry soup with sticky rice and some carrot sticks—I never asked, do you want me to submit a week’s worth of menus at a time?” she said.

“No, um, unless it’s easier for you, every meal doesn’t have to be vegetarian, too, I should have said that—” Aleksander broke off, baffled by his awkwardness dealing with Alina. There’d ever been an employee who flustered him so much and he knew, rationally, that she hadn’t done anything to merit his response.

“Oh, that’s kind of a relief, to be honest,” she said. “Every once in a while, there’s a day that just demands a bacon cheeseburger.”

#shadow and bone #darklina #hallmark AU #widower!aleksander #nanny!alina #romance #humor #fedyor #kidfic #sweetness and light #light on the angst #hallmark amirite?#sending aleksander to a coffee-shop #doesn't a coffee-shop AU make #darklinadaily

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kingpreciouswrld · 3 years

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I'll Be There For You

Fluff Prompt- “I just want to be there for you”

Pairing: Miranda Priestly/Andrea Sachs

Word Count: 3k

Summary: Andy just wants to be there for Miranda, even if that means she works behind the scenes to help the editor.

A/N: My first official fanfic. I haven’t watched The Devil Wears Prada a lot and to be honest, I think I’ve only seen it twice, but I love this pairing so much that I wanted to research and study both characters and the movie before I wrote this. Took about two days before I was finally happy with the whole thing :3

_______

It’s been six months since Paris Fashion Week. Six months since she decided to stay. Andy didn’t know why she stayed. Well, she knew why, but it wasn’t for the fashion scene.

It was for Miranda.

The commanding, direct, cutthroat, white-haired fashionista who stole her heart. Miranda said that she saw herself in the young woman: strong work ethic, driven, and devoted. Was it a compliment? Andy likes to think so, yet it intimidated her so much. So much so that she almost walked out on the woman. But Andy didn’t dare to think about life without seeing the editor daily.

So she stayed.

_______

“Go to Cartier and get 25 necklaces. Watch them pack it, last time they were tangled and Miranda fired at least three people that day. Then go to Calvin Klein, the showroom. I’ll give you the address. Ask for Ivan, tell him we’re doing a reshoot tomorrow, we need at least ten skirts. Stay away from Liz, she isn’t that helpful and on your way back, pickup Miranda’s coffee. Remember, one no foam skimmed latte with an extra shot and three drip coffees with room for milk. Searing hot”

Andy shooed off the new second assistant while she stayed back to man the phones. Miranda was out for the morning and it was Andy’s job to train the girl. This was the fifth assistant since Paris and each girl was slowly getting better than the last. Andy was promoted to first assistant when Miranda moved Emily to the art department. The job duties weren't different from when she was second assistant though the dynamic between Andy and Miranda was.

Miranda had changed once they landed back in New York. There were Emily’s and Nigel’s promotions, both of which were surprising, yet the two were very excited and very grateful to the editor. Miranda had also started to open up around Andy. For someone who wasn’t fond of small talk, the editor would make comments about how incompetent people were or how some articles of clothing were hideous. Whenever Miranda wanted coffee she’d “order” Andy to get a coffee for herself. There are instances where Miranda would forego her infamous catch phrase and replace it with a quiet ‘Thank you.’ Each time she heard it Andy would break out into a blinding smile and each time Andy swore that she saw a small twitch of Miranda’s lips before her stoic mask was back in place.

It was the small things that Andy noticed. That’s why it was a big deal to her. For Andy, Miranda respects and trusts her to the point where Miranda could speak freely around her. Andy felt honored to see through the small cracks of Miranda’s walls and she could feel herself falling even harder for the editor.

From the beginning months after Paris till now, Andy swore to herself that she’d help to make Miranda’s life easier. Not just because it was her job, but because she truly cared for the woman.

_______

Just as Andy finished setting down a scalding hot coffee in the office, Miranda came flowing through from the elevator. Lips set in a firm line, her heels clacked against the floor with her brisk pace, never stopping even as she threw her coat on the second assistant’s desk. She had just come back from a showing at James Holts’ studio, surely it wasn’t that bad? Her curiosity was quenched when she got a message from Nigel and she groaned mentally.

Miranda had just gotten off the phone from her ex-husband, Stephen, as she pulled up to the building. Going off Miranda's icy entrance, Andy knew that Stephen had canceled last minute. Again. It was planned that he was to watch the twins for the weekend since Miranda would be out of town for the weekend. Andy knew the man was flaky and usually his cancelling wouldn’t be a problem because the girls had their nanny Cara but the girl was out of town herself. Hence why Stephen was supposed to watch them and now Andy has to deal with the fallout but she was determined to make sure the girls were safe and taken care of for the weekend.

Andy followed the editor as they entered her inner sanctuary, notepad and pen in hand. Miranda had her hand nursing her head, massaging a headache away. “Confirm Demarchelier for tomorrow then pick up Patricia and her medicine from the vet. Pick up everything on the list, Patricia’s on a new diet. Then pick up the girls and take them home. Dinner is in the fridge, bedtime is at nine and don’t give them any sugar past seven no matter what they say.”

The brunette stopped her writing and looked up at the editor. Miranda continued to flip through the magazine in front of her as if nothing had happened.

What?

….What?

“Mira-”

“That’s all.”

_______

After the initial shock, Andy made the necessary arrangements to stay with the girls. Andy quickly got Patrick on the phone for Miranda before she told the second assistant the plans for the rest of the day. The girl was scared to death about being the only assistant in the office but Andy reassured her that she’ll still be available if she had any questions and she left Runway.

Andy and Roy went around town. She picked up the St.Bernard and got groceries for the dog’s new diet. As Roy pulled up to her apartment, Andy’s mind was still reeling. Miranda didn’t outright say it, but she basically asked (okay well maybe told) her to watch the twins. The question was, why? She highly doubted the woman would entrust a different nanny, a practical stranger, to watch her precious girls, but why her? She’s sure the editor wouldn’t even trust Emily to watch the twins. Andy wasn’t complaining though, not at all. She felt honored and touched that she had Miranda’s trust and she’d be damned if she’d let the editor down. After packing a bag, she quickly made her way down to the town car and the two of them, along with Patricia, were off to Dalton.

Upon seeing Andy instead of their father, the twins perked up and practically threw themselves into the car. The three of them had bonded a bit after the Harry Potter incident. Every night that Andy delivered the book, the twins would come down and talk to her about their day. She’d help the girls with their homework assignments and even give the occasional advice whenever they had troubles with friends. They would always ask how their mom was at work and Andy always reassured them that their mother was just fine. They made Andy promise to look after the editor and Andy was more than happy to do so.

Throughout the rest of the evening, they had a little girls' night. They watched movies, painted their nails, and did each other's hair. Andy and the girls even pampered Patricia, painting her little nails on her front paws and putting a bunny ear headband on the dog. It was a bit of a struggle trying to get the ears on the St.Bernard which ended up with Andy chasing the dog around the room while the girls just sat back and watched the whole scene unfold, recording everything. The twins were ecstatic to spend more time with Andy and they weren’t surprised that their mother let her watch them. Alright, maybe a little surprised but they weren’t complaining. At dinner the twins talked Andy’s ear off, spewing suggestion after suggestion about what they should do or where they should go. Although she was happy about their enthusiasm, she finally got them to calm down when they all agreed that they’d talk more about the details in the morning.

_______

Her blaring alarm bounced off the walls of the guest bedroom as Andy groaned herself awake. Once she realized where she was and whose house she was in, she stared up at the ceiling getting lost in her thoughts. The fact that she had slept over in Miranda Priestly’s house and that she’s in here now was still mind boggling. Seeing the townhouse in all its glory was as if she had a small glimpse of Miranda’s world and Andy stood all amazed. She was seeing a different side to the fashion editor. The interior of the townhouse was amazing. The color schemes differed from floor to floor yet it all worked together. Colorful and abstract paintings hung on the wall but there were also things that held family value. There were paper birds that were strung together that were draped around a bookcase on the second floor, pictures of the girls were situated on the coffee table in the sitting room and Miranda being a lover of flowers and their meanings, had multiple bouquets of different flowers on every other table.

Miranda had given Andy, this small town girl who dreamed of being a journalist but actually became an assistant, this ticket to see a of what the editor’s life was like and all Andy could think of was why? She knows what she hoped the reason could be, but Andy didn’t want to get ahead of herself but you bet that she dreams of it being true.

Tired of stressing and guessing, Andy threw on her clothes and made her way downstairs to the kitchen. It was decided last night that they will have crepes and french toast for breakfast and Andy thanked her lucky stars that she lived and dated a cook. She cut up some fresh fruit, freshly squeezed some oranges, and started to make both batters.

Andy was focused on making a good breakfast so she heard the twins come trudging down the stairs before she saw matching messy red hair come around the corner. As she platted the last crepe, the twins sat down at the kitchen island and started to dig in. Even though they just woke up and were currently stuffing their faces, the two were as energetic as they were last night, spewing out even more suggestions than before. Caroline wanted to go to the art museum and Cassidy wanted to go to the zoo. Both options sounded wonderful to Andy and even she couldn’t choose what they should do first.

After a heated game of rock, paper, scissors, and negotiations it was decided that they will go to the art museum and grab some takeout from Shake Shack on their way home. Miranda would never take her children to a place such as Shake Shack but the twins specifically asked for it and Andy just couldn’t say no. It’s okay, Miranda didn’t have to know.

_______

The art museum was fantastic. Although Andy has been to the museum multiple times with her friend Lily, she was amazed to hear Caroline’s knowledge of the art work and the artists who created them. Caroline became a little tour guide of the group, making comments and giving out fun facts here and there. She knew both of the girls were smart. They were definitely knowledgeable in areas that differ from usual kids their age, but it always amazed her to see how vast their knowledge really is.

The trio made their way home, cutting through the park before stopping at Shake Shack. She hoped no one would recognize the twins or else Miranda would hear about it within the hour and she knew the girls wouldn’t rat her or themselves out. They looked over the menu for a while, debating on what they should get. Cassidy and Caroline got the shack burger while Andy settled for the chicken bites. The twins couldn’t decide on what fries they should get so Andy just got an order of regular fries and an order of cheesy bacon fries. God, if Emily was here she’d have a heart attack just hearing about the cheesy bacon fries. They were almost out the door until Caroline stopped them and said that you can’t eat Shake Shack without getting a shake.

With the twins sipping on their shakes, the trio finally made their way back to the townhouse. They all settled around the kitchen island and dug into their respective foods; the twins even picked some chicken bites from Andy’s plate and Andy always tried to swat their hands away. Caroline continued talking about the paintings and sculptures they’ve seen with Andy listening intently and nodding along. The subject changed when they started to talk about tomorrow, and Caroline went on her own knowledge spree about the different habitats and animals that were at the zoo.

Seriously, these kids amazed Andy.

_______

And that’s how Miranda found them.

The twins and Andrea were talking around the kitchen island with their greasy takeout and sugary milkshakes topped with extra whip cream and she watched with amusement as Andrea tried to keep her food away from the girls. Miranda stood in the doorway taking in the scene. She’s never seen the girls take to someone so easily before, aside from Cara. The three never knew this but Miranda knew about the late night talks they had. She would listen to the hushed conversations and smile to herself from the second floor hallway. Every time she heard her girls’ voices with Andrea’s voice, her heart fluttered.

Andrea wasn’t like anyone she knew. She managed to weasel her way into the editor’s heart and Miranda wouldn’t have it any other way. The girl was kind and sweet, yet hard working and determined. Andrea was a force to be reckoned with when she was given a task and she would always get things done in one way or another. To Miranda, Andrea was ethereal; the brunette would walk in a room and the atmosphere would feel lighter. Hell, her presence alone had the power to calm the fiery editor. Andrea was the warmth that slowly melted her icy walls. Miranda cared for the girl, more than a boss should.

Before Miranda could make her presence, she caught Cassidy’s eyes. “Mom! You’re back!” Caroline looked up towards the doorway before letting out a squeal. Both girls bolted towards the editor as Miranda opened her arms. The force of the impact from the girls caused Miranda to stumble backwards a bit with a little ‘oomph’ as she was attacked by the redheads. Kissing their heads, Miranda hugged the girls tightly, “We finished early and Donna was nice enough to give mommy a ride home.”

As the family had their little reunion, Andy looked away from the scene in front of her and tidied up a bit. When Miranda’s presence was known, it came rushing back to her that she was Miranda’s assistant. That was her boss. This was just another task Miranda had given her as an assistant. No matter how different the task was or how different things had changed between them, she will still be seen as an assistant. Right?

“Andrea.”

Andy snapped her head up. She was so concentrated on her thoughts that she failed to notice the absence of the girls. It left her and Miranda alone. Alone. Together. In Miranda’s kitchen. Oh God.

Miranda walked closer towards the brunette, eyeing the takeout on the table, “I see you’ve been spoiling my children with... greasy calories and sugar.” Andy chuckled nervously as she fidgeted with her fingers.

“The girls asked for it specifically and they used their puppy eyes. It was a tough showdown and I just couldn’t say no.”

Miranda hummed in acknowledgement before letting a small smile play on her lips. She knew all too well about those puppy eyes. She fell victim to them many times. “Understandable.” Miranda picked up one of the french fries from the paper bag and plopped it into her mouth, leaving Andy to stand in front of her with wide eyes. The editor looked up at the assistant with a raised brow and a small smirk, “Surely you know that even I indulge myself from time to time?”

Andy tried her best not to gape at the scene as the editor started to pick at the bacon cheese fries, “Of course Miranda. It’s just...I’ve never imagined Miranda Priestly eating bacon cheese fries with her fingers. I mean, maybe with a fork but still.” Andy was even more shocked when the editor let out a laugh. Not one of those fake, dainty laughs, but a real laugh. It was beautiful. It was all Miranda. “Be as it may Andrea, I’m not the one with cheese on her face.”

The brunette blanched in horror and faced away from the editor to try and wipe the leftover cheese off her face. How long has it been there? Why didn’t the girls say anything to her before? Did Miranda know the whole time? Why couldn’t she have said anything before?

Her thoughts were stopped as she felt a hand lift her chin up and wide brown eyes met soft and amused blue eyes. Miranda stood in front of her with a napkin and a small smile, “Silly girl.” As Miranda wiped away the cheese, Andy held her breath. She could feel her skin tingle under the editor’s hand. All of her senses were heightened and her sense of smell was filled with Chanel No.19. The two were closer than they ever were before and Andy was scared to move. Scared that if she did, whatever this moment was would end.

“Why?”

Andy’s brows furrowed ever so slightly. Miranda’s eyes flitted across the young woman’s face before searching her chocolate brown eyes. “You didn’t have to watch them. You could have declined. Yet you didn’t.” Andy held her breath. “Why?”

The brunette searched the editor’s own eyes and watched as the softened ever so slightly, a twinkle of vulnerability showing through and Andy knew that it was now or never.

“I just want to be there for you.”

A moment of pause followed, the two of them communicating through their eyes. Andy just wanted to show Miranda that she cared. She cared more than an assistant should. She cared about the woman’s life outside of work and that included the girls. It included everything and anything that crossed Miranda’s path.

Satisfied and a bit relieved with what she found, Miranda slowly moved her hand to caress Andy’s cheek, lightly rubbing her thumb along a soft skin.

“Thank you.”

______

A/N: I didn’t want to end it with dialogue but I felt like if I continued it, it would be too long for a prompt fic. Anyways, I tried lol BUT feedback is always welcome whether it’s negative or positive, both help with the writing process :)

#mirandy #miranda priestly #andrea sachs #the devil wears prada

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alfredosauce50 · 3 years

Text

You’re gonna go far, kid [Punk! England x reader]

Synopsis: Ever since coming to England to study, you haven’t had the time to do what made you come in the first place--tourism! The only friend you have is an exchange student from Russia, Ivan, so why not kill two birds with one stone? He schedules a little playdate with Arthur, a local, so he can show you around the hottest spots in London. You two immediately hit it off. Ivan is quick to notice his interest in you, so he starts teasing the poor man and making things hard for him. Camden is the last destination, and there’s no saying when he’ll ever see you again. Will he be able to get over himself and ask you out before the night ends? Note: Attractions are italicized and have a link to a picture. Wordcount: 4,641 The reader is referred to as she/her.

This was the day you had been dreading, and yet, looking forward to. The first part was easy to explain. Picking up your hot latte, you set it down after a quick sip. You didn’t even have time to enjoy it. Not when you were typing away at your keyboard like a speed demon. You promised your friend you would finish your assignment before today’s meet-up, but your procrastination habits were a bitch. Nevertheless, you were eager to uphold your side of the deal, even if it meant stressing your hair out to get it done.

So long as he didn’t show up before you were done, right?

After burning your tongue for the second time that morning, you let out a small groan at the sting you felt but gasped at what you saw outside the window. It was a sound made from genuine terror--rather than the quiet streets of London at seven AM, you spotted a man pressing his face right up to the glass. And he was staring at you, menacingly.

Anybody would’ve been creeped out by the sight, but you knew the guy. “Aha--Ivan! Hey! Morning?” You began rather awkwardly.

He waved in response, and his glower melted away in exchange for a childlike smile. “Dobroye utro, (F/N)! I hope that’s not your assignment you’re doing.” He hummed, placing two hands on the glass to peer at your screen from outside. Oh shit. Glancing briefly at said screen, you turned it away before clicking the upload button.

“Of course not.” You grinned, shutting your laptop immediately after. “I was just... Surfing the net. Checking Instagram. You know?”

“Is that so? I’m gonna check.” He made his way inside. And in no time, he was looming over your shoulder to start browsing through your internet history. You, on the other hand, were sweating balls.

“You’re so funny, (F/N). Who checks Instagram on their computer?”

It seemed like only yesterday he was the oblivious exchange student from Russia who had no concept of social media. He had been a country bumpkin through and through, but a few semesters after befriending you, your influence rubbed off on him. Even you had no idea what went through your head when decided to talk to him, the intimidating new kid who spoke broken English, but there was no turning back now. He was attached to you by the hip and picked up on your habits faster than you could deal.

He only became more of a menace when he discovered Twitter.

A displeased expression contorted at his expression when he saw that there was no evidence of you ‘surfing the net’. Google Docs couldn’t possibly count, after all. “... Hm... Apparently, not you. Why didn’t you finish this yesterday, sunflower? Remember our promise?”

You sighed. “Look, I’m sorry. I passed out last night. But hey, I technically finished it before you came, didn’t I?”

He craned his head from side to side in thought. “Maybe. But if you hadn’t, you know what that means.” Ivan coiled his arms around your neck and a sickeningly sweet smile curled up at his lips.

“You will come with me to Moscow for Christmas!”

A chill ran down your spine at the thought. Going to Russia was bad enough. But during Winter? You were never good with the cold. If you could barely handle London, Moscow was out of the question. “Oh God, please no.” He nodded giddily. “I’m never going to Russia. Maybe I’d consider it during Summer, but--anyway, that’s not the point here! I didn’t break any promises so I won’t be turning into a popsicle this year. Got that?”

He pouted. “Aw...”

“You damn sadist.”

“Hehe.”

“I wonder how you even became friends with him. Arthur, was it? Poor dude.” You mumbled, but he didn’t look all too offended.

He tapped his chin and hummed. “Now that you mention it.” Then, he let out a short laugh. “It’s a long story. Let’s just say it was a happy little accident.”

“Unfortunate.”

“But don’t worry! I don’t plan on bothering you as much as him today.” Ivan clarified, earning a slow nod from you. Phew. The clock was inching closer to eight and you weren’t much of a morning person, so hearing that was like music to your ears. “That’s why I wanted you to finish your work yesterday. I want him to be the only one making mistakes! It’s interesting to see him mess up and get embarrassed.”

You had to wonder if he was using ‘interesting’ as a synonym for fun because he was clapping. “... Ivan, you really are a sadist.”

The two of you stayed in that café for another hour or so, ordering some breakfast during your stay. Once the table was cleared and the bill was paid, you and he caught a bus to the London eye. You could marvel at the iconic ferris wheel for a few minutes as you walked up to the London aquarium next to it, your first stop. The building was huge to start with, and it didn’t look like they’d be storing fish in there considering how fancy it was. But wasn’t everything in England fancy?

“He should be waiting in the front. Look for a short grouchy man with a bad taste in fashion.” You shot him a weird look, beckoning him to elaborate.

“... And blonde hair.”

“Alright. I guess I’ll try my best.” Glancing around the sea of people filled with tourists, couples, and families, you skimmed the crowd for someone who fitted the description--but to no avail. It was only when they walked up to you both did you find the guy. He had short and choppy blonde hair that framed a heart-shaped face, and under his fringe was a pair of lime green eyes staring on with a neutral expression. And did Ivan say he had bad taste?

You couldn’t agree. Yes, his charcoal pants were ripped and he had a bandana tied around his neck with a Union Jack on it. But he still had a kind of style you liked. Under his black leather jacket was a gray shirt, and combined with the piercings in his right ear, you couldn’t help admiring him for a second.

“Arthur! I was wondering if you were trampled because we couldn’t find you.” Ivan began, causing the said man to furrow his brows. And boy, were they thick.

“You just arrived, so don’t start now you twat.” He grumbled. Ivan never teased you for your height, even when you were a little shorter than the Brit. He always found it cute, but you figured it was only because you didn’t care. The Russian always found amusement in poking fun at others, after all. “Anywho, I’m glad I won’t be spending the whole day alone with you.”

Turning to you with a soft smile this time, he held out a hand for you to shake. “Kirkland. Arthur Kirkland.”

You shook it, but not without a laugh. It hadn’t even been a minute since meeting him, and his personality seemed to clash violently with his appearance. He sounded so prim and proper, but his outfit screamed punk rock.

“(L/N). (F/N) (L/N).”

He released you from his grip. Placing his hands on his hips with an accusing stare, he felt a grin upturn his lips. “Are you copying me, (F/N)?”

“I don’t know. Do all British people introduce themselves like James Bond?”

Arthur clicked his tongue. “... Not all of them. Just a force of habit.”

“Mhm. Right, right. Well, it’s nice to meet you, Arthur. I’m a student here too and I could only imagine how busy it gets for you--so thanks for coming out today!” He didn’t respond to those comments and simply nodded.

Ivan stayed quiet in the back, but he was probably reading the atmosphere like he always did when he didn’t speak.

“It’s nice to meet you too.” The blonde turned on his heel and closed his eyes. “As much as I’d like to stay out here and chat, we can do that in the aquarium. Wouldn’t wanna waste our tickets, do we?”

While the group of three wandered slowly through the establishment, Ivan lingered in the background while you walked in the front with the Brit. For the first ten minutes, you’d look at him expectantly, gesturing for him to join in the conversation. As the mutual, wasn’t he supposed to be the icebreaker? He’d shake his head every time, offering you a smile as if to say, go and make some friends. But soon, this brief spell of irritation morphed into gratitude.

“I’ve been here probably a hundred times, so don’t take it personally when I don’t seem as excited as you.” Turning to him to watch his face as he spoke--which was filtered through a bluish tinge from the Antarctic setting-- you only caught a brief glimpse of it before he turned away. Huh. Maybe it was just you not paying enough attention.

Either way, what came out of your mouth next would surely grab his.

“Don’t worry about it. But hey, this is the first time you’ve been here with me, so look alive, won’t you?” It happened to be a slip of the tongue, something bold and improvised, but luckily, he reacted fairly quickly before the regret set in.

“Oi, you better not be flirting with me already,” Arthur grumbled, feeling another smile come as he heard you chuckle. Since when was he this expressive? He pinned it on the fact that he was starting to have a little fun himself.

“Couldn’t imagine it.” Before he could add anything else, you hopped in front of the penguins and started waving your friend over with great gusto. “Ivan, c’mere. Arthur, mind taking a photo of us?” Once he joined your side, the two of you held up peace signs for the Brit to snap a photo.

“Ivan, change your pose. We can’t have both of you doing the same thing.”

The said man moved his peace sign to the back of your head so he could stick two fingers over it. “Is that better?”

“... Better.” Trailing his emerald eyes to you, he felt his cheeks heat up a touch at the sight of you grinning ear to ear. What the fuck, Arthur. Just take the damn photo. And that was exactly what he did, showing you both right after. Whatever just happened, he boiled it down to him idealizing a stranger. That was right. He had yet to get to know you, so his perception of you couldn’t be any better at this stage.

But there was one thing he couldn’t deny.

“Damn, I look really ugly in this. You two better not post this anywhere.” You settled a hand over the screen to lower it with a nervous laugh. Then, you looked away, and what was that? You looked a little flustered.

You were cute.

Hanging his head to look at the photo, he knitted his brows together. You? Ugly? He couldn’t imagine it.

“... I bet I could take an even uglier one of you.”

Spinning back to him, you folded your arms. “What did you say?”

“Nothing.” He shook his head slowly, and the amusement in his voice made it blatantly obvious he was lying.

“That’s what I thought.”

Walking off at that, Ivan followed. Because he was behind him, he could brush his shoulders against his. Arthur looked up at that, but almost wished he didn’t. Ivan was smiling down at him so shrewdly, it was threatening. Then, he raised a hand to his mouth so he could laugh softly. “Huhu. You like (F/N)~”

His eyes flew open and blood rushed up to his face. “What the hell gave you that impression? I literally just met them!” As adamant as he sounded, he knew deep inside he liked you, but only platonically. Your personality was refreshing, and talking to you was as easy as breathing. Even if it wasn’t platonic attraction, he was endlessly frustrated the other figured it out earlier than he could.

Whatever it was, he was certainly more sociable than usual, even to the point of being a tease. And not to mention the rosy cheeks. Maybe he should’ve just kept his trap shut--otherwise, his huge outburst let Ivan milk the obvious. Fuck. He even started to giggle like a schoolchild.

Giving him a rough shove, he muttered a string of curses under his breath. “I bloody hate your arse, you know that?” He hissed, his face now redder than a tomato. God, why he did have to be born so pale? Every slight change to his complexion was jarring, and it was embarrassing.

“Don’t hate me because I’m right,” Ivan hummed, joining his side as your back came into view. “Once you realize, it’ll be too late. I’m not letting you have (F/N). I will always be (F/N)’s number one.” Lighting up at that, he skipped off to you in the front. “Wait for me, sunflower! Don’t leave me alone with Arthur!”

Arthur stopped in his tracks and clenched his fists. How annoying. If he was going to continue being a little tyke, then he figured he’d up his game as well. He didn’t know what that exactly entailed yet, but he’d do it. Ivan didn’t even sound like he wanted anything more than friendship, so what was with that? Pointing a finger at him as he walked off with you, his face scrunched up.

“What did you even call me out for then, you idiot? I’m supposed to be guiding you both!” Picking up his pace at that, he slotted himself between you and him. Flashing you a brief smile, he gave Ivan another push without breaking eye contact. “It’s a tight fit for three, so he’ll stay in the back.”

“Hey, no fair!”

By the time the whole aquarium was toured, you and Arthur were laughing to yourselves while leaving through the exit.

But the joyful atmosphere was short-lived.

The Ferris wheel just outside was the next stop, and the Brit offered to splurge a little to have a carriage without strangers. That way, you could run around as much as you wanted, even if that meant leaving the two men to sit in their lonesome. While Ivan was sitting on the bench in the centre out of his own volition, the same couldn’t be said for him.

Sitting back to back to the other, he pressed his legs firmly together and leaned over in a hunch. Then, he dug his hands through his hair, all while keeping his round eyes fixated on the ground. His heart couldn’t stop pounding, and his head was spinning like a carousel. What was he thinking, taking you here? That was right. This was an iconic destination you couldn’t miss, that was why. He was initially planning on staying back there on the ground, but you were so excited, he couldn’t help but hop on with you.

Fuck. Maybe Ivan was right about him. But he wouldn’t let him know it. Speaking of the guy, he didn’t know if he was sitting there by choice, or just rubbing it in. While he was incapacitated by fear so he couldn’t even stand, he was sitting there because he wanted to.

“You should’ve stayed on the ground if this was going to happen.”

Arthur screwed his eyes shut and tightened his arms around his stomach. “... Shut up.”

“I was just saying.” Ivan murmured, looking at him over his shoulder. Poor guy. He really was down bad, wasn’t he? Down bad for you, that was. Too bad Arthur was hoping he wasn’t convinced--but it was too obvious. So all Ivan wanted was to prove his point, and later on, keep you away from him. But maybe he’d save it until after the ride was over. “... This ride is thirty minutes long. You’ll live.”

He heard the other groan. “Thirty minutes? How long has it been?”

“Mm... Ten.”

“Fuck me.”

Unfortunately, it wouldn’t be long before you would pull away from the railing and return to the company of the two. Arthur had been praying that somehow, you’d leave him alone sitting there, pathetically, but he couldn’t expect something so cold from you. So while he hung his head, he wasn’t surprised to feel your hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, you okay?” He heard you ask, but he never looked up.

“... Yeah. Just give me a minute.”

“I have. Ten, actually.” Taking a seat beside him, you leaned down to peer at his face, which was a few shades paler than normal. He didn’t even have the energy to respond, and kept his eyes fixed to the ground. Concern immediately contorted at your features, especially when he looked so shaken. “Arthur, you look a little sick. What’s wrong? Can you talk?”

He shook his head slowly before managing a weak smile at you. “Sorry, love.” It didn’t even faze him he just called you that. He was far too uncomfortable to feel the embarrassment from a nickname he should’ve saved until a little later.

“I’m not... Too good with heights. Never have been... I was hoping you wouldn’t notice.” His voice was slow and faint, and you were beginning to suspect he was having a panic attack. “... Sorry if I seem a little lame.”

“No, of course not.” You frowned. “Things like this happen. Just breathe with me, okay? You can do it. Just count to ten.”

Arthur took a deep inhale. “... Okay.”

Around ten minutes later of these exchanges, he calmed down some, especially when you kept on reminding him that the carriage was finally descending. Once the ride was over, you had to help him up and walk him out. Now that he had his two feet planted firmly on the ground, it didn’t take long for him to recover. Even then, you remained rather cautious and stuck with him on your journey to Soho. By the time everyone took their seats in Circolo Popolare, a beautiful Italian restaurant Arthur so kindly booked, you were still looking out for him.

Leaning over to rest your head on the table, you glanced up at his face with a soft smile. “... You okay now?”

A light blush dusted his cheeks and he nodded. You didn’t need to be this observant with him considering he was well now, but he loved your attentiveness. It wasn’t something he was used to. “Yeah, I’m fine now. Thank you. Now quit worrying about me, alright?” Rubbing the nape of his neck at that, you couldn’t help lingering on his body language for a moment.

It didn’t matter what he dressed like, or what his personality was. He could be endearing when it came to it, and a total softie too. And the thought made you smile even wider. If he thought you were cute, then you thought he was adorable. “Fine. I’ll leave you alone.” You slowly turned to Ivan, the action making Arthur tense up a little.

Reaching out to your hand, he took it. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

The feeling of his warm fingers around yours made your heart skip a beat. Did he just? Your thoughts manifested into your look of shock, and you darted your eyes over his neutral expression to try and decipher it. Before you could come up with anything, there was a phone in your face, followed by a flash.

“Wha--?”

He turned the screen to you to reveal a photo of you, and in your opinion, it was the least flattering picture anybody had ever taken of you. “I said I’d take an uglier photo of you, didn’t I?” Arthur grinned, the words acting like a cold splash of water to bring you back to reality.

“... You sneaky little shit.” You growled. “Delete that right now!”

“How about no?”

“I’ll never forgive you for this, Arthur.”

“I think you already have, love. You’re smiling right now.”

You stared at him wordlessly for a few seconds. Then, out of nowhere, you reached out to snatch his phone right out of his hands. Tapping furiously on the screen to get rid of it, you heard his chair scrape back violently as he tried to retrieve it. “Why, you--”

But it was too late. Gone forever. Lost in the abyss of cyberspace. And so, he immediately channelled his frustration by jabbing his fingers into your sides. “If I can’t have that photo of you, at least let me do this!” You burst into a fit of laughter so loud, nearby patrons turned their heads. Only then did he pull away, leaving you to recover through breathless wheezing.

“Fuck you, Arthur.” You whispered, but it was on an affectionate note more than anything. As you glowered at him from your seat, you never noticed Ivan doing the same thing, but he was glaring at the Brit for an entirely different reason. Arthur had to be the most self-aware person out there, and to make a scene in a restaurant like this? He really fell for you, didn’t he?

When he realized Ivan’s scorching gaze burning into him, he froze.

Not just out of how intimidated he was, but the epiphany that he was right all along. Why else was he acting so out of character? The only explanation was this--in the short time of being with you, he may or may not have developed a little crush. But that was no problem, right?

All he needed to do was to ask you out.

But that would prove a task easier said than done, especially when Ivan decided to attach himself to you by the hip after that stunt. That cunning bastard knew what he was doing. After a little window shopping around Bond street and Mayfair, he stuck to you like a tattoo, and kept it up until night fell. While the group walked around Camden, Ivan kept you by his side with a firm grip on your hand.

When you asked why he was suddenly so clingy, he simply justified it with, “It’s dangerous for small people like you to wander around at night!”

But Arthur called bullshit. Especially when the other went ahead and smirked at him right after saying it. Maybe he liked you too, but was refusing to admit it. How hypocritical. If not, then he probably didn’t want you making friends when you were the only friend he had. Whatever it was, he wasn’t about to back down so easily. Camden may be the last destination for the night, and perhaps, the last time he’d see you again for God knows how long, but it was his trump card.

If this didn’t sweep you off your feet enough to get you to pull away from Ivan, nothing would.

As a town famous for its thriving nightlife and punk culture, it encompassed everything he was passionate about, and he’d give anything to show it to you. So he included a visit to the bar here on the agenda today, one that hosted live music. While you and Ivan got comfortable in your seats, Arthur never made a move to sit down.

It was already dim inside, so you never noticed him leave. The next time you saw him, it was a few minutes later when he was on stage with a few other musicians. Leaning forward with surprise, you watched him strap on a bright red electric guitar. Walking up to the microphone, he adjusted that. No way.

You were still trying to process him being a professional performer, but a lead singer as well?

The second he strummed the strings to start a guitar riff, he opened his mouth to start singing.

Play this while you read

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Show me how to lie, you're getting better all the time

And turning all against the one is an art that's hard to teach

His fingers never stopped moving as he belted out note after note. His voice was so different to how he talked, you had to do a double take. He sounded a little more rasp, a little more punk. To say you were impressed was an understatement.

Now dance, fucker, dance, man, he never had a chance

And no one even knew it was really only you

While he jammed out on stage, he was electric. The energy in the bar exploded, and he had everyone singing along. You could almost see the confidence in him shoot up from the excitable crowd, because he was smirking.

Nice work, you did.

You’re gonna go far, kid!

Turning his head to you as he sung that line, you raised a hand to your mouth. Whether he did that on purpose or not was a mystery. But no words could describe how attractive it was. Hell, it even made you mind blank for a few moments. This was Arthur? He was like an entirely different person! Needless to say, you were completely star struck.

You couldn’t even make out what Ivan was telling you when the music was blaring in your ears. But you didn’t care. Arthur had you caught in a trance with his voice and guitar all until the end. When the song finally ended, the band bowed graciously and threw up hand signs as the audience erupted in applause and cheers.

When he stepped off the stage, you didn’t hesitate to run up to him. There, you practically pounced on him for a tight embrace. “Oh my god, you were amazing! I didn’t know you could play so well! And sing, too! Why didn’t you tell me!?” You exasperated, pulling away to be met with his dazzling smile. It was the first time you’ve seen him so energetic, as if performing sparked a fire inside him that burned with youthful intensity.

“I was dying to show you all day. I wanted it to be a surprise, and I had to save the best til’ last, didn’t I?” He grinned, feeling his heart swell up with warmth as he watched you light up.

“Well, good on you! I loved it!” Squeezing him again, you felt his chest shake under his laughs. When you pulled away, you reached up to cup his face. But it felt so natural in the spur of the moment, even he didn’t seem to care.

“Thanks again for today, Arthur. I really appreciate you taking us out today. You completely blew me away.”

The way how you phrased it reminded him of why he was here in the first place. That was right. He still had to ask you out. And with Ivan watching on from afar, this was his chance. The thought reddened his cheeks, but while you had his face in your hands, he couldn’t feel more comfortable. “Is that so? If that’s the case, how about I take you out again?” His expression grew serious. “A proper date, I mean.”

It was your turn to blush, but you managed a quick answer.

“No need to look so serious, love. Of course I’ll go on a date with you.”

He chuckled and leaned in to peck your lips. “Stealing my vocabulary now, are we?”

“Stealing kisses now, are we?”

“Touché.”

Now a third wheel of the group, he breathed out a soft sigh and rested his cheek on his hand. “I guess my job here is done.” It didn’t really look like it, but he had been trying to play the wingman all along. Arthur was always one to go a little crazy when he wanted something, and only more so when he was desperate. So all he gave him was a little push in the right direction.

Maybe he would thank him later, but for now, he’d leave you two be.

This is a request. Thank you for requesting.

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fridayfirefly · 3 years

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Cowboy Like Me

Read Cowboy Like Me on AO3

Masterlist

Written for Maribat March Day 5 - Last Time

Now I know, I'm never gonna love again

Marinette was a terrible sentimentalist. After such a bad breakup it might have been cathartic to tear up the pictures of them, but Marinette just couldn't do it. No, she could bring herself to destroy the evidence of her six-year relationship. Marinette kept all the pictures, all the movie tickets, all the handwritten notes and put them in a shoebox at the top of her closet, somewhere that she couldn't reach without the help of a stepstool. Maybe the pads of her fingers could brush against the smooth cardboard if she stood on her tiptoes. But Marinette could never open it again. Inside that shoebox were the memories of being in love, kept safe, locked away, just out of reach.

As Marinette boarded the plane, she looked back on everything that had gone wrong. Though the cause of all the destruction in her life was uncertain, Marinette could pinpoint the effects exactly. There were a few things Marinette knew for certain: Marinette would never fall in love again, the city Marinette once loved now only held bad memories, and once the plane took off, Marinette would say goodbye to Paris for the last time.

Never wanted love, just a fancy car

The socialite scene of Gotham was dreadfully boring in the winter, Marinette learned. The weather was so brutal that anyone who could afford a second house in Key West or Malibu left as soon as the first snow-fall hit. Marinette stayed inside her penthouse apartment for weeks, designing her wardrobe for the next few months. It had been so long since she had been able to design for herself, without input from anyone else. It was freeing, to work with the colors, the patterns, the styles that she wanted. Marinette had forgotten what freedom felt like. For so long, she had worked for the whims of others, crafting to someone else's design.

Marinette made her first friend two weeks after the move. Silver St. Cloud was Marinette's neighbor in the apartment to the left. Silver was a model and influencer, and a self-proclaimed expert on all of the rich single men in Gotham. Upon their first meeting, Silver offered to show Marinette around Gotham and introduce her to the socialite scene. Marinette, hesitant but hopeful, accepted.

"Bruce Wayne is the best that Gotham has to offer," said Silver as they leave Starbucks, lattes in hand. "But there are plenty of men who are worth your attention - women too, if that's what you prefer."

"Bruce Wayne is the best?"

Silver nodded. "The Waynes have owned this city for as long as Gotham has been on a map. I wouldn't set your sights on him completely, though. Bruce Wayne doesn't date anyone, not even a former member of Kitty Section."

Kitty Section was known around the world, the biggest band to come out of France in the last decade. Their songs topped charts. Their albums won awards. Their well-crafted image of reclusive, mysterious artists led to a media sensation over the members of Kitty Section. Everyone wanted to know them - Luka Couffaine and Marinette Dupain-Cheng, the lead vocalists whose relationship enchanted their fans. Rose Lavillant, the backing vocalist and keyboardist, and Juleka Couffaine, the bass guitarist, who were unashamed of their love for each other. Ivan Bruel, the mysterious drummer who had the name Mylène carved into his drumsticks. They were famous. They were at the top of their game. They were unstoppable.

Marinette ruined it all when she left the band. Her split had been big news, exposing a dark side of Kitty Section that their fans were never supposed to see. But after their breakup, Marinette quickly realized that she never loved music. She loved Luka, and once that love faded away, she loved nothing.

"I guess I'll find someone else," said Marinette, but it was a lie. There was Luka Couffaine, and after that, there was no one else. She might be able to love fancy dresses and expensive cars, but Marinette would never love a person again, not the way she loved Luka. When it came to love (deep, true love, not just the infatuations of childhood) Luka was her first time, Luka was her only time, and Luka would be her last time.

Perched in the dark, telling all the rich folks anything they wanna hear

Marinette quickly learned the art of charming everyone she met, either through her impressive resume (founding member of Kitty Section) or through her newfound ability to flirt. It turns out, once you turn off your feelings it becomes very easy to pretend that you can still love.

Marinette and Silver became thick as thieves. The girls became a popular pair, charming every birthday brunch and charity dinner. For Silver, it was all about networking. As she explained to Marinette, "I'm trying to create a brand. I'm trying to turn my own name into something that can be sold, and for that, I need connections.

For Marinette, it was something to do. As long as she used her money wisely, Marinette had enough saved to comfortably live out the rest of her days. The real problem came in finding something to pass the time. Marinette rarely felt joy in living her life, the way she used to back when she was a child, the bright-eyed girl who aspired to be a designer. Now, everything from charming a billionaire to designing a new dress felt like a chore.

"Come meet Bruce Wayne," urged Silver as she grabbed Marinette's hand. "He just got back from Nepal. It's his first time in Gotham in six months. He skipped his own New Year's Gala to go soul-searching in the Himalayas. It's my job tonight to convince him to stay in town for longer than a week."

There was a determination to Silver's voice. From everything she had heard about Bruce Wayne, Marinette doubted that Silver could make him change his ways. However, that wouldn't stop Marinette from helping her new-found friend.

Silver's whole body-language changed, shifting from a determined march to a delicate float as she made her way over to a dark-haired man in a well-fitted tux. "Hello, Bruce. It's so nice to see you again."

"Silver." Bruce acknowledged her, sounding bored. "Who's your friend?"

"This is Marinette Dupain-Cheng. She was the lead singer of Kitty Section before the band split up a few months ago."

"Kitty Section... I might have heard of them before. The band was... French?"

Marinette nodded. "Yes. All the members were born and raised in Paris. Have you heard of any of our music?

"I'm certain now that I have. It was very... commercial."

Marinette ought to have slapped him across the face right then and there. Not only was commercial not a compliment, but it also wasn't even true. It was the biggest criticism of Kitty Section, their reticence to work with popular music trends. Despite her overwhelming desire to assault the most wealthy and influential man in the ballroom, Marinette instead steeled her face and gave Bruce a pleasant smile. "Thank you. So what do you do for a living, Mister Wayne."

"I travel."

Marinette resisted the urge to roll her eyes. He spoke two words to her. The conversation was anything but interesting. "How interesting. Have you ever been to Paris?"

"I'm not a tourist, Miss Dupain-Cheng. I travel to much more interesting places."

Marinette officially gave up on the conversation. She would let Silver (who looked to be itching to have her turn to talk to Bruce) try and fix the train-wreck of a conversation that Bruce created. "You sound like a man with a lot of stories to tell. I hope you can tell me them over lunch someday."

"Perhaps."

Marinette gave Bruce her politest smile. "I have to excuse myself. Silver, why don't you tell Bruce about your new sponsorship from Lululemon."

Silver lit up. "Oh, you have to hear about this email I got last week. It was amazing, it's so good for my brand..."

Marinette walked away, letting her distaste towards Bruce leave her. Secretly, a little part of her hoped that Bruce would leave Gotham, as he was well-known for doing. Though Silver was her friend, Marinette didn't think she could pretend to like Bruce.

"He's intolerable, isn't he?" joked a voice from beside Marinette.

Marinette turned to face the stranger, a beautiful woman, taller than Marinette by quite a few inches, with dark hair, dark eyes, and tanned skin. She wore a dress of royal blue silk, so elegant it reminded Marinette of the sort of thing she always dreamed of making. "Who?"

"Bruce Wayne. Who else would it be?"

Marinette let out a quiet laugh. "He is quite unpleasant. I take it you know him."

"I accompanied him on some of his travels. Bruce is a good friend of mine, but these parties tend to bring out the worst in him. He hates this city and he especially hates the wealthy of this city." The woman grabbed a glass of wine off of a server's tray and handed it to Marinette, who gratefully took it.

"Then I doubt Silver will have any luck convincing him to stay." Marinette tried to keep the satisfaction out of her tone, but the woman laughed anyways, an indication that it didn't work.

"You're quite funny..." The woman paused for an introduction.

"Marinette Dupain-Cheng. And you are?"

"Diana-"

The sound of shattering glass interrupted Diana's introduction. The crowd started to get frantic, and Marinette was pushed one way while Diana was pushed the other. The glass of wine was knocked out of Marinette's hand, staining the fabric of her dress. Marinette struggled to stay on her feet, desperate to not twist an ankle in her four-inch heels.

"Listen up!" shouted an oddly-dressed man. "You're all going to listen to me, and no one will get hurt."

Marinette had a very odd feeling that this would be a moment she remembered for the rest of her life.

Never thought I'd meet you here. It could be love

"They're calling him a supervillain. Apparently, his name is The Riddler," reported Marinette, looking up from her phone, where she was reading about the events of the night before.

Silver glanced up from her seat on the sofa across the room where she was painting her nails a delicate shade of pink. "It's about time Gotham got its own supervillain. Metropolis has had Superman and all the villains that follow him around for years."

Marinette snorted out a laugh. "You think that a supervillain is a good thing?"

"Sure. It means that Gotham will be getting a superhero of its own soon." Silver brightened up. "Plus, the hostage situation from last night meant that I got to spend a whole two hours with Bruce."

Marinette groaned. "I can't believe that you two are going on a date. Bruce Wayne is one of the most insufferable men I've ever met."

"It's not a date. Bruce specified it as just dinner between friends. You should come too, Marinette. I'm sure that once you spend some time with Bruce you'll warm up to him."

Marinette gave Silver a skeptical look. "You want me to come with you on your date with Bruce?"

"Again, it's not a date. Bruce said that he would be bringing one of his friends along as well."

Marinette finally understood Silver's intentions. "You want me to come with you so that I can partner up with Bruce's friend, and you can get some alone time with Bruce."

"Well it doesn't sound very nice when you put it that way," huffed Silver.

Marinette giggled. "I love devious plans. We'll just have to make it look natural."

It took a little time to get all the details, but Marinette and Silver got their plan in order. Silver would arrive first and meet Bruce and his friend. Marinette would arrive later, strike up a one-on-one conversation with Bruce's friend, and spend the night engaging Bruce's friend in conversation so that Silver could flirt with Bruce. Marinette's only concern about the evening was that Bruce's friend would be just as unbearable to talk to as Bruce himself.

The restaurant that Bruce picked out was very fancy, but Marinette didn't mind. It allowed her to wear her new dress, a pale blue and silver creation meant to mimic the shimmering quality of ice. Marinette thought it might be a little too experimental for the old-fashioned Gotham society, but Silver approved of it, and Marinette trusted her friend.

As soon as Marinette walked through the doors her eyes caught sight of Silver's white-blonde hair. Then she noticed Bruce sitting beside her friend, his eyes trained on Silver with an odd intensity. Finally, Marinette noticed Bruce's friend. She was shocked to see that it was Diana, the very woman that Marinette had met at yesterday's gala, the very woman whose introduction was interrupted by the untimely arrival of the Riddler. For a second, Marinette was shocked into stillness. The chaos of the night before had overshadowed her meeting with Diana to the extent that Marinette had forgotten how very charmed she had been by Diana. Now, it seemed Marinette had the perfect opportunity to get to know the charismatic woman from the night before.

"Marinette," the surprise in Diana's tone told Marinette that she was just as blind-sighted by their meeting.

"Hello, Diana. Fancy meeting you here," said Marinette with a smile.

Bruce raised one eyebrow. "I didn't know you two knew each other."

"We met last night," explained Diana. "I wanted to let her knew that you aren't usually so insufferable."

Bruce looked affronted. "I wasn't insufferable."

"You lied about having listened to Kitty Section," piped up Marinette. "There are a lot of valid criticisms of Kitty Section. However, our music being too commercial is not one of them."

Bruce had the decency to look guilty. "I apologize, then. I'll make sure to take the time to give your music a real listen."

For Silver's sake, Marinette was willing to forgive him. "Maybe next time you can give me some real criticism."

Bruce nodded graciously. "I'll do that."

Diana took that moment to bring back up their introduction the night before. "So Marinette, I don't believe we got the chance to finish our introductions last night. I'm Diana Prince, newly a curator at Gotham's Art and History Museum."

"I'm Marinette Dupain-Cheng, former member of Kitty Section, currently taking a soul-searching sabbatical."

"Soul-searching for what?" asked Diana.

"I suppose I'm trying to figure out what I'm going to do with the rest of my life. When I was younger I was so passionate about fashion. I made my own clothes, entered my creations into design contests, spent years creating a portfolio. I'm trying to rediscover that passion."

"Maybe you could show me your designs some time," offered Diana.

"I would like that," agreed Marinette.

"Actually," chimed in Silver, "Marinette made the dress she's wearing right now."

"Really? I would have assumed that it was professionally made. It's a gorgeous dress," praised Diana.

Marinette blushed, a warm fluttery feeling stirring deep within her. The rest of the night passed in a blur, with Marinette hanging on Diana's every word. It was easy to talk to Diana. She was so naturally charming that Marinette couldn't help but enjoy herself. As the evening winded down, Marinette felt only regret that they would have to part so soon.

As Marinette stood outside the restaurant, waiting for a taxi, she felt Diana's hand settle on her shoulder. It had been a while since Marinette had felt such an intimate touch. "I had a nice time talking to you tonight." The feel of Diana's fingers gently trailing down Marinette's arms was almost more than Marinette, touch-starved and hungry for more, could bear.

Marinette smiled. "I did too. I hope to see more of you."

"I'm sure you will." Marinette took comfort in the certainty in Diana's voice.

And in the back of her mind, Marinette began to rethink her policy of never falling in love again. Something about Diana made Marinette think that Luka wouldn't be her last time after all.

And the skeletons in both our closets plotted hard to fuck this up

Marinette could not believe he did this. After everything they had been through together, Marinette's one final request to Luka was that he not release a song about their breakup. But there it was, top of the charts, the lead single of Luka's new solo album, Different Cities. And if it wasn't bad enough that Luka broke the only promise she asked him to keep, included in the song was a snippet of the last voicemail she sent to him. She left it for him weeks after they broke up, as an explanation to him, to let him know she was leaving Gotham.

In the last few seconds of the song, Marinette's voice is hesitant as she speaks. "I know that you wanted me to stay so that we could work things out, but I don't think that our relationship is fixable. So I guess I'm calling to tell you that I give up. I'm leaving Paris next Friday. I've already bought the plane ticket. You can't change my mind. Goodbye, Luka."

It was the rawest emotion Marinette had shown since the breakup, and Luka exploited it for his own gain.

Marinette spent the day joylessly deleting emails from various news outlets begging her to tell her side of the story. As if she would give Luka the satisfaction of giving free publicity. Everyone loved drama, so Marinette was going to make her reaction - or lack of reaction, in this case - as boring as possible.

Every time her phone rang, Marinette ignored it. The voicemails started to stack up, and eventually, Marinette found herself going through them one-by-one. One from Alya, letting Marinette know that she was there for her when she wanted to talk. One from Adrien, more joking in tone, trying to cheer Marinette up. One from Ivan, directly threatening to punch Luka in the face if Marinette wanted it (and that was the only voicemail that actually brought her spirits up). One from Juleka, an apology.

In the voicemail, Juleka's voice was rough, like she had been crying. "I'm so sorry, Marinette. I begged Luka not to release it, but he wouldn't listen to me. He said- he- he said-" Juleka broke off into a sob, and Marinette couldn't help but sniffle along with her. "I can hardly recognize him anymore. Rose and I aren't on speaking terms with him now. He's no longer my brother."

Marinette wished that she could pick up the phone and tell Juleka that it was okay to forgive Luka, but Marinette couldn't. The wound was still fresh, still bleeding out.

One step forward, one steps back. Two days after Marinette considered the idea of loving again, and she was right back where she started - in too much pain to even consider friendship, let alone love.

Speak of the devil, Marinette's phone rang, Diana's name lighting up on the screen. Part of her wanted to throw her phone across the room and curl up under her blankets. The other parts of her answered the call. "Hello?" spoke Marinette, wiping away the moisture at the corner of her eyes.

"Marinette, are you okay?" Diana's voice was soft. It was the most comforting thing Marinette had ever heard.

"Not really. I can't decide if I want to punch Luka in the face or if it would hurt too much to ever see him again."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Marinette sighed. "I met Luka when I was fourteen. He was my classmate Juleka's older brother. Luka had his own band, so all the girls in our class thought that Luka was so cool, but he mostly ignored us. Then one day his backing vocalist got bronchitis and he needed someone to fill in. I was a soloist for the school chorus, so I volunteered. Luka was hesitant to let me join his band until he heard me sing. He told me I had the voice of an angel. Two days later he kissed me, and I fell in love with him so hard and so fast I didn't have a chance to consider if he was really the one."

Marinette took a deep breath, then continued, "It was a whirlwind after that. We started dating. We started a new band and named it Kitty Section. We started writing songs together. The weird part was, he never asked how I felt about any of it. He never asked me if I wanted to date him, he never asked if I wanted to join the band, he always assumed that I wanted what he wanted."

"And what did you want?" asked Diana.

"Back then, I thought I wanted a future with Luka. Now, I guess I just want to feel passion again. I've felt so empty since I left him."

"You might feel better with some company. Do you want me to come over to your place?"

Marinette looked around at her empty apartment, at the way the shadows filled the room, at the way seemed to lurk in every corner. "Sure."

"You could show me some of those designs you were telling me about the other day," suggested Diana.

Marinette glanced over at her sketchbook, which had laid empty for months. "That sounds good."

As she hung up the phone, Marinette realized that talking to Diana had made her feel a bit better. The knife wound that Luka had left in her heart had begun to close up at the edges. Marinette took a deep breath and picked up her sketchbook. If she wanted to rediscover her passion, she needed to work for it.

Now you hang from my lips, like the Gardens of Babylon

Marinette let out an appreciative noise as Diana re-entered the room, modeling one of Marinette's creations. "Give me a little spin."

Diana turned herself around, letting the red fabric swirl around her legs. Something about the way that the dress looked on Diana made it so much prettier in Marinette's eyes. Suddenly the fabric wasn't just red, it was carmine. The dress wasn't just being worn, it was being modeled. It didn't just move, it flowed. "It's a gorgeous dress," complimented Diana as she looked over her shoulder at the mirror behind her to admire it.

"It is nice, isn't it." Marinette had been so caught up in her head she had forgotten to truly admire her creation. Suddenly an idea occurred to her. "You should keep it. One of Bruce's charity galas is coming up in a few weeks. You could wear it there."

"I couldn't," protested Diana.

Marinette shook her head. "It looks best on you. I could never pull off such a vibrant shade of red." There was a second part to the sentence that was left unspoken. If Marinette made the dress knowing that it wouldn't look good on her, she must have made it for another reason. She must have made it with Diana in mind.

Diana smiled, seeming to have caught those unspoken words. "Well if I'm going to wear the dress, you'll have to put up with me gushing about how talented you are all night long."

Marinette flushed. "It's no big deal. It's just a dress."

"It's not just a dress. It's your passion." There was truth in Diana's words that Marinette couldn't deny. It was so much more than a dress. It was the passion for design that Diana had helped her rediscover. It was the newfound friendship with Diana that chased away the loneliness and despair that had taken over her life. It was the glimmer of hope for a future with Diana.

Takes one to know one, you're a cowboy like me

Diana looked beyond gorgeous in that carmine dress. Marinette could keep her eyes off of her as they mingled around the ballroom. Marinette's dress was nice, made with the same passion that Marinette had in her younger years, but it paled in comparison to Diana. However, Diana made up for this disparity by gleefully explaining that Marinette was the creator of the dress every time it was complimented. By the end of the night, Marinette had spent so much time blushing over compliments that she worried her face would become permanently flushed.

The gala was a complete success for everyone involved. The charity, which happened to benefit Gotham Child Protective Services, raised twice their goal amount. Marinette got to spend time with Diana. Even Silver had spent the night looking very pleased with herself, her hand resting on Bruce's forearm as they walked through the ballroom together.

As the night winded down, Marinette and Diana found themselves walking out of Wayne Manor towards Diana's car. Diana had offered to drive Marinette there and back, and Marinette had eagerly accepted. Marinette hated driving in Gotham, as Gotham was known for its aggressive drivers and high rates of automobile accidents.

Marinette sat down in the passenger seat with a sigh, kicking off her heels. "Tonight was nice."

"It was nice," Diana agreed. "We'll have to attend galas together more often."

"You just want an excuse to get your hands on another one of my dresses," teased Marinette.

Diana laughed. "I wouldn't say no to another dress. But really, Bruce's rich friends are much more bearable when I have someone to make fun of them afterward with."

Marinette shuddered. "And to think I thought that Bruce was bad. His friends are intolerable. I never want to talk about golf again in my life."

The two women chatted as they drove through the dark streets of Gotham, back to Marinette's apartment.

"Thanks for driving me home," said Marinette as the car pulled up in front of her apartment building.

"It was no problem." Diana hesitated, before continuing. "I was wondering if you would like to go out to dinner with me tomorrow night."

"Dinner sounds good," Marinette replied, strapping her shoes back on.

"I'm asking for this to be a date." Diana finished.

Marinette looked up at her, surprised. Her friendship with Diana had been so easy that Marinette had forgotten that it could be anything else. She had half a mind to decline, to stay in the familiar, but that little bit of hope in her heart urged Marinette to take a leap of faith and accept. "I would like that. What time will you pick me up?"

Diana smiled, her whole face lighting up. "How does six sound?"

Marinette smiled back, her heart feeling lighter than it had in years. "Sounds great. I'll see you tomorrow."

And as Marinette got ready for bed, she realized that all of the sadness that lingered in her heart since the breakup had gone away. All that was left for her to feel was hope for the future.

@maribatmarch-2k21

#maribat #MaribatMarch2021 #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #Diana Prince #wonderbug #dianette #my work

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canyouhearthelight · 3 years

Text

The Miys, Ch. 130

I am pretty excited for this chapter, not just for how it turned out but for what it sets up in the future. I don’t want to spoil it by saying anything more, but once y’all have read it, I would love to know your thoughts on it.

That said, I once again want to thank the people, coast to coast, who keep me going on this story: @the-raven-fae for being the original instigator and current podcaster of the story (check it out here!), @anotherusrname for being the best big sister a girl could ask for and for being the first person to publish any of this story in physical form (on a BLANKET no less), @baelpenrose for being my mutual beta and really egging me on more often than should probably be done, and @charlylimph-blog for... well for just being Charly. The real Charly, who is more chaotic than fictional Charly. And really, all 4 of the above for making sure I take care of myself.

“There’s some changes to the vendor list this year,” Hannah greeted as she arrived in my office.

I was still resisting the urge to cough, knowing that Noah had gotten all the chili powder out of me but nonetheless struggling against an imaginary itch in my throat. Apparently she could tell, because she got a chai latte from the console for me as she took a seat and handed it over without acknowledging it.

“From this list, I am going to guess that there is a huge fusion cuisine moment happening right now,” Parvati suggested.

“What gave it away? The Greek-Korean vendor, or the Brazilian-Icelandic?” Hannah joked.

I was extremely glad I had stopped sipping my latte as soon as Parvati spoke, or I would have choked on it. Yes! I thwarted the nefarious beverage! I thought to myself. “Do I even want to know how much fermented shark we are talking here?”

Parvati scrolled through her document and back to where she was, head tilted in scrutiny. “Probably not.”

“I’ll make a note to put them on the opposite end from the natto,” Hannah murmured. After doing that, she tipped her head back with a sigh. “This feels… I don’t know, empty?”

“What do you mean?” I asked, scrolling through a list of upcoming cultural seminars that we were considering. Jokul’s suggestion to more aggressively share cultures had been a phenomenally well-received one, and the Council had even recognized him for the way it had taken off. At this point, there were more than anyone could attend, and several requests for repeats.

My entire thought process came screeching to a halt when Hannah explained.

“We’re talking about a huge community event while also in the process of planning how to defend ourselves in the event that space pirates try to wipe out the last known members of humanity,” she pointed out. “While also being on a list of phrases I never thought to even consider being something I thought I would never say - it’s that far out there - the fact that we are still facing potential annihilation makes the Food Festival seem more like one last hurrah. It’s kind of morbid, isn’t it?”

“I’m pretty sure the information Arthur and Charly got us demonstrated that we are more likely to be enslaved than exterminated,” Parvati added helpfully, earning a scowl from both of us. She just shrugged. “I’m just saying.”

“Yes, Vati, because that is so much better, thank you for reminding me,” Hannah quipped. “It still makes the Festival feel insignificant.”

“Maybe we should just cancel it - “

I slammed both my hands, palm down, on the table and surged to my feet. “Absolutely not.”

“Sophia - “

“No. This event is too important, we aren’t even humoring that notion.”

“I know that this is your baby, but hear us out…”

I shook my head vigorously. “I will not. This isn’t about me.” I pointed to both of them. “What you’re feeling right now? That’s exactly how nearly everyone on this ship feels. We are scared, and angry, and tilting ever closer to being despondent and just giving up. And that’s exactly why weeeee…” I gestured to the three of us, “can’t. We need stability, and something familiar, and a reminder of what it is like to live. To have fun. To be as human as possible and stuff ourselves silly. So if you think for one second I am going to let our own personal culinary Mardi Gras get cancelled, you are delusional.”

Hannah still looked reluctant, but Parvati’s expression changed so fast that it was actually terrifying. “You’re talking about raging against the dying of the light, aren’t you?”

There it was. The guerilla protester was starting to show.

Gracefully, she flowed to her feet, one finger tapping the side of her chin as she started pacing. “That’s an angle I don’t think we considered.” Without looking, she held up a hand to stop Hannah when the quieter woman opened her mouth to argue. “The Festival has always been about coming together, sharing, being peaceful. But, what if it isn’t this year?” She whirled, hair flying and eyes blazing. “The Festival will be two weeks into the next night cycle. We planned on soft emitters, retro style lamps and braziers for light. And we can still do that for the first two days. But day three…”

“Go all out,” Hannah ventured slowly. “Full on, wild, bright…”

“Yes! Blacklights, glow in the dark, fluorescents… Heavy bass in the music, the kind you feel in your chest more than you hear. Only the best dishes from each vendor, what they consider their finest achievements. Defiantly, loudly human.”

“Costumes encouraged?”

She scoffed. “Of course. Like those music festivals Before, only with food. This isn’t our last hurrah, it’s going to be our rallying cry.”

Hannah seemed to be coming around to the notion, starting to nod with a focused expression on her face. “That would work. I can completely get behind that idea. We’ll need Ivan.”

“And Charly Harper,” Parvati confirmed.

“Do tell,” I asked, not seeing where they were going with this.

“Ivan can help us with some of the metalwork we’ll need to reinforce the vendor’s booths. We want it to fit in with the theme, but still be functional.”

“And I don’t know where else to get enough glitter, or blacklight paint that doesn’t show under normal light.”

“Glitter…?” That terrified feeling was returning, and swiftly.

“So much glitter,” Parvati nodded seriously. “The kind that doesn’t set off sensory issues, and I know she has it at all times, I’ve seen it. And flavorless food color, that stuff she uses in her ice cream and popcorn. I need all of it.”

I rubbed my temples as a headache started just from imagining what this was going to look like. She’s an artist, it will work. She’ll make it work, I know she will. “I put the Festival in your hands, you can do whatever you want except cancel it.”

“Just give Tyche a heads up so she can plan good costumes for you and the guys,” Hannah reassured, enthusiasm ignited at the idea of truly making the event their own.

The frown on my face actually gave me a cramp. “Why does someone else get to plan our costumes?”

“Because you wear really nice scrubs every day,” she pointed out without looking up.

“They’re comfy! But I’ll have you know I actually do know how to put together a costume, much less an outfit.”

Both of them eyed me skeptically, provoking a sigh of exasperation. “I am going to show you two, and you are both going to eat your words. Just wait.” Deep down, under all the indignation, I was hugely relieved to have averted a crisis, especially since it wasn’t a matter of life and death for once.

I also could not wait to see their faces on night three.

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#the miys #humans are space orcs #humans are space fae #hfy #haw #aliens #food #found family #apocalypse #post apocalypse #post post apocalypse #science fiction #sci fi #original science fiction #original sci fi #original writing #my writing

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winterromanov · 5 years

Note

AU idea- college athlete Bucky and he’s really popular and all that but very sweet and he meets this girl who’s sweet and a little quiet in one of his classes and he just keeps trying to be around her, study with her, buy her coffee and she likes him but she’s just like.... why is this cute popular boy paying attention to me lol

pairing: bucky x reader (also SUPER tempted to do a part two of this, let me know if you’re interested)

You recognise the guy staring at you from across the table in your Russian lit tutorial. You recognise him because everyone knows Bucky Barnes, the football star, certified big name on campus and best friend of fellow football star Steve Rogers. He’s the guy that every girl on your corridor gossips about, the one all the professors love, the one who gets hundreds of likes on his Instagram pictures.

(You don’t follow him but you have to admit, you’ve scrolled through his feed a few times. Just to see what the fuss is all about, you know. And you know. Boy, you know.)

You’ve never actually interacted with him before because your circles aren’t the kind that usually interlink, but now you’re sat in a seminar on Tolstoy’s Anna Karenina, and Bucky Barnes is definitely staring at you.

When your eyes eventually flicker up from your laptop--just to double check you’re not making it all up, that he’s not looking at the much prettier girl next to you--he grins, pen between his teeth. Your cheeks involuntarily catch fire and you deliberately snap away. Because this is Bucky Barnes you’re talking about, who dated Natasha Romanoff in his freshman year before it all very publically...fell apart. Who could have literally any girl he wanted worshiping at his high-tops. Who would never look at a girl like you because, well.

You’re you.

You’re trying to buy coffee in the campus shop next to the library when he actually speaks to you directly for the first time. Emphasis on the word trying, because you left your damn purse at home and Apple Pay is not being your friend and you can feel yourself getting more and more embarrassed the longer the cashier has to wait. You eventually resort to rummaging round your backpack for loose change in order to pay the poor guy, but an arm with a contactless debit card reaches out and beeps the payment through for you.

“I’ll get a latte to go, please, Mario.”

“Of course. Anything for you, Mr Barnes.”

It’s Bucky Barnes. Of course it’s Bucky Barnes--only someone like him would take the time to know the server by name. He’s wearing his faded red Columbia jersery and a baseball cap. His grin is kinda crooked and yes, yes you know it’s one of the many reasons all the girls go wild for him.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you say, stepping aside so he can go to the front of the queue. He merely shrugs. “Here--let me pay you back, I know I’ve got a couple of dollars in here somewhere...”

He shakes his head as he taps his card once again, the server handing him his latte in a reusable mug with a wink. “Don’t worry about it. Honestly, your idea about interior monologue in Anna Karenina in Ivan’s class the other day actually inspired my paper, so I do owe you one.”

You blink, kinda dumbstruck at the thought of Bucky Barnes remembering any input you’d given in class. Or anyone remembering any input you’d given in class. “You liked my point?”

“Oh, yeah.” Bucky sips his coffee, grimacing slightly as the liquid burns his lips. “Tolstoy finding humour in death. It’s so dark and beautiful. All your points, actually--you see a lot in literature than I’ve never picked up on in a first reading.”

“I...Uh. Well. Thank you.” You’ve always been quite reserved in class, scared to say anything in case it’s stupid or outlandish and the other students laugh at you. In reality you know it’s you being paranoid, but old habits die hard.

Bucky looks at his watch before hissing a profanity under his breath. “Gotta run. Cold War study group across campus in three minutes. Catch you later?”

He phrases it like a question rather than a generic add on, a necessity of politeness. His blue eyes look at you expectantly, actively waiting for you to reply.

(They’re so blue, his eyes. Blue like the sky in the summer back home, bright and cloudless and stared at from a meadow.)

“Yeah, of course! See you in class.” You raise your coffee cup sheepishly in his eyeline. “And thanks for the coffee.”

And like that he vanishes, bustling out the door and stepping purposefully in the opposite direction as the sun blazes on his back.

You see his backpack before you see him, slammed down on the bench next to you in the lecture hall. He sits down with a long exhale of breath, like he’s ran here--this time he’s dressed in sportswear so you assume he’s been to the gym. Veins ripple and flex up his ridiculously toned arms. Being a football hero probably does that to you.

“Crime and Punishment,” he says, instead of a greeting. “What did you think?”

You smile, spreading your hand across the heavily annotated and dog-eared copy you have in front of you. “Long, dark, often psychologically challenging, but ultimately an interesting perspective on nihilism. And you?”

“Oh.” He nods in faux seriousness. “I thought much the same. Reckon I’d like to go for a beer with Dostoevsky.”

“That would be an interesting encounter.”

Bucky rests his laptop and his copy of the book on the bench and looks as though he might say something else until the professor enters the room, hushing the hall to silence. When the lights dim so you can see the projector, you wonder if Bucky can hear how furiously your heart beats in your chest.

After than, some sort of unspoken agreement develops wherein every Russian literature class, his place is a spot next to you. You always seem to arrive first--he’s always rushing from somewhere--but he clocks you and instinctively walks over, sliding into a chair adjacent to your own. The conversation is usually the same. Always about the books.

You’re not sure what any of it means but you’ve somehow found a friend in the famous Bucky Barnes, and people start to notice.

“Since when have you and Bucky been so close?” Wanda Maximoff asks as you queue for the canteen lasagna, the flourescent bar lights doing nothing for the food presentation. “My brother is in your lit class and he says you two sit together a lot.”

You shrug, spooning lasagna onto your plate. “We just sit together.”

“You don’t just sit together with Bucky Barnes, (Y/N). That’s not a thing that happens.”

“Honestly, Wanda, we just talk about books.”

Wanda narrows her eyes, swiping her meal card at the end of the belt. “Sure, okay. I believe you. For now.”

She has to believe you, because you know what she’s insinuating. And when you look across the canteen and see Bucky laughing with Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson and his ex girlfriend Natasha Romanoff, you know this cute, handsome boy and his often insightful observations of Russian texts are so far out of your league that it’s kind of embarrassing.

so, (y/n). what did you think of the master and margarita?

i think pilate suffering for his sins for two thousand years is pretty rough tbh

but he deserves it?

i mean. probably. his suffering is necessary for the redemption arc

just what i was going to say. obviously.

see you tomorrow :)

“Do you want to come to a party?”

Bucky asks you this as you come out of your seminar on Chekov’s Uncle Vanya and, admittedly, it kind of knocks you off guard. When you lamely blink back at him blankly, he decides to elaborate.

“It’s my friend Sam’s birthday. It’s just at our dorm--should be fun. Although we’re very competitive when it comes to beer pong, so beware.” His smile is wistful but he quickly comes back to earth, falling in step with you as you walk along the hall. “So what do you say? You interested?”

“You’re inviting me to a party?” you reply, as this is a very big step in your friendship. This is assuming he’d happily see you outside of class amongst his equally popular and attractive friends.

“Yeah, I think so,” he laughs bemusedly, pausing at the door that leads to the quad. He has his Cold War class across campus. “(Y/N), I’d really like you to come.”

You look at him and expect him to reveal this--him--as a joke, but he’s earnest and certain and honest, with an almost shy smile on his face. His eyes are hidden by his usual cap but you know the colour of blue so well by now. And not just because you’d zoomed in on his Facebook photo in a moment of ridiculous late-night longing.

(You follow him on Instagram now, too, but only because he followed you first. You were still too uncertain to initiate it, worried that he’d ignore you.)

“Okay,” you say, swallowing nervously. Wondering if this might be a mistake. That you’d turn up and no-one there would like you. “Who else will be there?”

“Don’t worry about that. I’ll introduce you.” He pauses, chewing his lip for a second, before gesturing at the door. “I’ve got class, so I’ll...I’ll see you later.”

Your hands tighten round the straps of your backpack. “See you later, Bucky.”

Bucky shares a floor with Sam Wilson and Steve Rogers at a block about a ten minute walk from your own, and you use the walk in the chill New York air to calm your jangling nerves. You’re wearing your favourite navy blue dress and have braided your hair and made an effort with your makeup--and you’re not totally sure what for, what you’re expecting. You’re just the quiet girl in Bucky Barnes’ literature class. You don’t know how it got to this.

You’re too awkward to press the buzzer so you message Bucky to let him know you’re outside. Scrolling through your Facebook inbox, your messages have become...quite frequent. Especially at night. You lie on your bed and frantically type until the early hours, only realising it’s 3am before it’s too late.

That’s what friends do, right? Friends.

(God, you’re so fucking in love with him, aren’t you?)

Bucky’s on the edge of a laugh when he answers the door, but his expression falters into muted surprise as soon as he lays eyes on you on his doorstep. A silly gold party hat is positioned at an angle over his head.

“(Y/N),” he says, and you flush, because the way he says your damn name. He steps aside so you can step in under his arm. “I’m glad you came. Finished The Idiot yet?”

“Onto the last fifty pages.” His house is decked out with balloons and paper chains and the loud pumping of a bass stereo carries from the lounge, alongside the chatter of laughing of guests. You recognise Columbia’s only archer and Olympic hopeful Clint Barton rush up the stairs, holding the hand of a brown haired girl. Bucky rolls his eyes at him and yells already? “I think it might be one of my favourites on the module.”

He leads you through to the kitchen which is empty other than various bottles of alcohol on the table and Natasha Romanoff sitting on the counter. Her red hair hangs effortlessly across her shoulders, lips painted scarlet, wearing a classy black jumpsuit. Natasha Romanoff makes you feel nervous because a) she’s the kind of girl you could never be and b) she’s the kind of girl Bucky Barnes dates. She’s sipping rose out of a wine glass, her eyes discretely looking you up and down.

“Is this the famous (Y/N)?” Natasha asks, her tone intrigued, her lips curved. Bucky laughs bashfully, scratching the back of his head. “Honestly, this guy doesn’t stop talking about you.”

“Sorry?” you gape, looking between her and him. Bucky sends Natasha a glare that signals for her to shut up which only makes her more amused by the situation, leaning back casually. “Uh, I don’t know--”

“Ignore her. She’s insatiable.” Bucky quickly swerves, pressing a glass into your hand. “Would you like a drink? We have pretty much everything imaginable. Natasha has plenty of wine she’d love to share.”

Natasha is totally unaffected, already looking at her mobile phone. She flicks a hand at a line of bottles next to the microwave. “Feel free, honey.”

You’re not a big drinker as you don’t often frequent cool college parties and you’ve been drunk a grand total of one time after one too many glasses of champagne on new year’s eve. Bucky seems to see this in your face.

“You don’t have to drink, obviously,” he says kindly, “But if you mix a bit of soda with rose it actually tastes kinda nice. Much better than beer, anyway.”

“Okay,” you nod, letting him mix the drink for you. He’s remarkably careful, pouring the tiniest amount from one of Natasha’s bottles and topping it up with sprite. He grabs a beer for himself, cracking off the lid with his teeth.

“You know you’re not impressive when you do that,” Natasha says drolly, even though she hasn’t looked up from her phone.

“(Y/N) was impressed,” Bucky says with a wink. You try and keep straight-faced but yeah, come on. You were.

“Of course she was impressed,” Natasha interjects, “You’re both stupidly in love with each other but too polite to make a move.”

Bucky flips her off before pressing a gentle hand in the small of your back, ushering you away from her. “She’s drunk.”

“I’m not drunk!”

You sip your drink, wondering if your palms will ever stop sweating. Natasha can’t be right. She isn’t right. Or is she? No, she can’t be, because this is Bucky Barnes and you’re you.

Bucky’s friends are actually kinda nice. Really nice, in fact. You’ve always been intimidated by Steve Rogers’ reputation on campus but he might be one of the sweetest guys you’ve ever met, instantly welcoming and eager to get you involved with the games he’s beginning to set up. Sam Wilson is bold and blunt, but he grins mischievously and gives Bucky a pointed look when he introduces you and snaps a party hat to your head. In various corners of the apartment you see people you vaguely recognise from school, names burning at the edges of your memory but ultimately escaping you.

Steve sets up the table for beer pong and Bucky clutches your wrist, beckoning you over to play (and cutting short your conversation with a very interesting business major called Pepper). Steve and Sam are on one side while you and Bucky are apparently on the other--Steve’s positioned himself so he’s directly in view of a British exchange student with big eyes on the other side of the room.

(Aside from your own, you’re actually pretty observant when it comes to potential romantic encounters.)

“Just so you know,” Sam stares hard at the two of you, pointing with two fingers, “It’s my birthday, so I have to win. It’s the rules.”

“I don’t think you have to worry,” you reply, looking up at Bucky. His expression is warm, his arms desperately close to yours. “I’m probably going to be pretty rubbish at this.”

“Buck’s a good teacher,” Steve says, grabbing a ping-pong ball and handing it over to Sam. He rolls it between his fingers, his face scrunched in mock seriousness. “But we’ve all had plenty of practice.”

“Too much practice, arguably,” Bucky drawls. “And Wilson, don’t you think for one second that (Y/N) and I are going to let you win under any circumstances.”

“I don’t need you to let me win,” Sam says, before perfectly throwing the ball into one of the cups near the front. He stands back smugly, crossing his arms over his chest, as the rest of the room whoops. “I think you’ll find I possess the skills for victory, fair and square.”

You laugh as Bucky rolls his eyes, picking up the plastic cup filled halfway with lukewarm beer. He keeps eye contact as he knocks the whole thing back, wiping his lip emphatically once he’s done. “That’s it. The game is on.”

Admittedly, it get’s to a point where it’s pretty close. You almost visibly bristle as Bucky tries to show you the ropes, positioning your hips with his hands and following your aim as you try (and often fail) to pit the ball in one of the opposite team’s plastic cups. Whenever you score he yelps dramatically, high-fiving you, and his grin is borderline magical.

(Natasha watches bemusedly from the sidelines, making dry comments here and there. It’s like she’s checking you out for herself. Assessing you.)

It get’s to the point where there is only one cup left on either side and the tension is palpable. Limbs are floppier from downing liquor, the aim repeatedly more off--your stomach is warm and your feet feel light--and Bucky’s palms ghost your waist as you concentrate on what could be the winning put. Sam and Steve try and distract you by dancing ridiculously to an ABBA track playing out the speakers, but Bucky’s words of encouragement are what filter through. You take a deep breath and throw, only exhaling when your ball lands with a triumphant plop in the central solo cup.

Bucky throws his fist in the air before grabbing you and spinning you round, his laugh ecstatic in your ear. You cling onto his neck, your fingers barely millimeters from entangling in his hair, before he plants you down on the ground again. Well. You think you’re on the ground. You might as well be in the clouds.

“A round of applause for the winning shot,” Bucky says, holding your hand and lifting your arm so you can take your bow (which you do with pleasure). Steve and Sam pretend to be reluctant, but they clap anyway.

“I’ll allow it, this once, (Y/N),” Sam answers bemusedly, coming round to the other side of the table. “But if you try and upstage me on my birthday again there will be consequences.”

You feel more confident now, more like these people are your friends. So you grin, feeling the magnetic pull of Bucky to his side from next to you. “I’ll try not to. Promise.”

Sam hums, before clapping Bucky on the shoulder. “Come on, Barnes. You can go mix me a drink.”

Bucky shrugs, asking if you want anything from the kitchen while he’s on his way there, but you shake your head. You’re happy right now with what you have.

Natasha approaches you while you’re waiting outside the bathroom. Someone--you think he’s called Rhodey--emerges and offers you a salute and you’re about to go in, but Natasha grabs your hand and pulls you in with her and locks the door behind you.

You’re so astonished you’re not sure what to say. She brushes the hair away from her neck, back facing you.

“I need someone to unzip me,” she declares like it’s obvious, indicating towards the zipper halfway down her back. “Do you mind?”

“No,” you blink, hand nimbly reaching forward to drag the zipper down her back. Even her back is flawless, like porcelain, a tattoo of what looks like a spider curling up from her waist. “Of course not, no.”

She sits on the toilet unabashedly and doesn’t ask you to look away but of course, you do, because this whole situation feels very strange indeed. The wall is plain and blue and spotted with mildew, probably damp from the shower. Like all student accommodation. It feels weird looking at damp while Natasha Romanoff, beautiful as she is, literally pees behind you.

“I care about Bucky a lot,” she says suddenly, “I’ve known him a long time. Way before college, way before we--dated. I love him, but not in the way you think. And I know what he’s like, what the signs are.”

You shift your feet uncomfortably. “The signs of what?”

She audibly sighs out of frustration. “Honestly, it sounds like you’re both as bad as each other. I know--I know when he’s falling for somebody. You’d think, I know you think, that somebody like him...he’d have no problem with it. And maybe if he cared a little less and felt less intensely he wouldn’t.”

“I’m not sure...”

The toilet flushes. Natasha rises and turns back to you and you dutifully zip her back up while she washes her hands, looking at your reflection in the mirror. When you’re stood side by side like this it really does emphasise the differences between you, but also the similarities. She’s a girl. So are you. Girls, despite what every atom of her being exudes.

“You know exactly what I mean, (Y/N).” She smiles crookedly, wiping her hands on a towel. “Just--treasure him, yeah? He deserves it. I get a feeling you both do.”

She doesn’t look back at you as she leaves, closing the door behind her.

Bucky gives you one of his old football jerseys to walk home in because it’s past midnight and you didn’t bring your own. He also insists on walking you home. And you feel nervous, not just because you’re alone with him for the first time this evening, but also because Natasha’s words circle the back of your mind like a tape cassette stuck on loop. You know exactly what I mean, (Y/N).

“Can I ask you something?” you question, arms crossed as your steps echo on the sidewalk. The street is surprisingly deserted--it’s usually crowded with students, all sorts. Tonight, it is quiet.

Bucky looks over at you quizzically, but intrigued. “Yeah. Shoot.”

“Why me?” When he looks perplexed, you laugh awkwardly and continue on. “Connie Taylor is in our Russian lit class, too, and she’s way prettier than me and like...she’s been trying to get you to notice her all semester and yet.” You scrunch your nose as you look up at him, examining his features. His jawline. The hair that falls into his eyes. His naturally flushed cheeks. The party hat he’s yet to take off. Him. Him him him. “You always come to me.”

He bites the inside of his cheek. “Connie Taylor seems perfectly nice. But Connie isn’t you. I like you.” You arrive at the door of your block and he pauses, shoes scuffing into the ground. “She’s not prettier than you, or smarter than you, or any of the reasons you’ve inevitably thought in your head as to why you think she’s more deserving of anything than you. And I find it vaguely insulting that because...I don’t know, play football, that I could only be interested in one kind of person.”

You look away. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“No, I know.” He steps closer so that the toes of your shoes are almost touching. His hand searches in the darkness for your own. Squeezing your small fingers between his, scarred and scraped from football practice. “(Y/N), I like you because you’re funny and kind and intelligent. I like it when you message me about books, I like it when you save me a seat in lectures, I like it when you explain every single point you make so everyone in the class can understand it. I like so many things about you, and you need to get it out your head that because you’re not Connie Taylor that this can’t be true.”

“No-one ever notices me, Bucky,” you murmur quietly, “And I don’t say that for sympathy, or whatever. I say that because that’s how it’s always been.”

You both stare into each other and for one agonising, aching moment you think he might let go of your hand, snuff every spark out like a candle. But instead--instead he ducks in, covering your lips in a soft post-midnight kiss, his mouth warm and tasting faintly like beer. He snatches the breath from your lungs.

“Do you believe me now?” he whispers, hands curving round your jaw. You want to close your eyes, remember this feeling forever. Trap it all in a polaroid. “You are so fucking special. Everyone but you can see it, and it’s so frustrating.”

You kiss his palm, letting your lips linger on his skin for a moment longer. “Thank you for inviting me tonight. I had a really great time.”

His smile is faint but there, nonetheless. “I knew you would. I hope this means you’ll be willing to come out with me again sometime.”

“I think I would like that.”

He unravels from you, not before ducking in for one last sweet, beautiful kiss. “Goodnight, (Y/N).”

“‘Night, Bucky.”

Your hands remain clasped together until he’s far enough away from you, dropping your hand and grinning as he’s eventually lost in darkness. You have to hover for a second with your keycard in your hand, trying to gather your thoughts, process the events of the evening. Bucky Barnes like you. He likes you, not in spite of you, but because you’re you.

When you collapse on your bed you map the constellations of cracks on your ceiling, your heart thumping and your mind almost one hundred percent him.

“you and i, it’s as though we have been taught to kiss in heaven and sent down to Earth together, to see if we know what we were taught.”

y/n. it’s 2am and doctor zhivago is making me cry.

also sam has made me drink sambuca

i wish i was crying over russian books with you

even though ur probably asleep

that’s cool

hope ur having sweet dreams

miss you

my masterlist

send me a request

#oh my god im so sorry for this #it got a bit out of control #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x reader #marvel #mcu #marvel cinematic universe

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custardcove · 3 years

Text

Here’s a fifteen-questions meme I stole from my splat-blog!

I’m not tagging fifteen people, but if you’re a mutual of mine that wants to take part, consider yourself tagged.

1. Are you named after anyone?

Pansy: A flower, if that counts! It’s a family tradition for the firstborn.

Ivan: Not exactly. I share a name with some video game character Alice liked the sound of.

Queenie: Sadly not. While I appreciate that my name stands out, sharing a name with one of my ancestors would’ve been a mark of pride.

Taylor: Mmmnope. I like ‘Taylor’ enough because it starts with a T like Tomiichi, but I wasn’t named after anybody—though you know, as a point of interest, it was meant to rhyme with my brother’s name!

Neo: I was named after my grandmother.

2. When was the last time you cried?

Pansy: Aw, man… I try to stay positive around Prim, but I do cry about silly stuff sometimes. Maybe a week ago? Sometimes the past just catches up to you.

Ivan: Longer than I can remember.

Queenie: What an invasive question! I don’t think that’s any of your business. I do not cry frequently.

Taylor: Now why’d you want to know a thing like that? I think I’ll keep it to myself!

Neo: Mind your own business.

3. Do you have kids?

Pansy: Have you met Primrose? That’s my daughter. She’s really sweet, but she’s also quite shy, so please keep that in mind.

Ivan: This is a difficult question to answer. I’d say no. I don’t think granting someone’s wish makes me a father.

Queenie: Not yet. I intend to.

Taylor: Woah, no! Do I look responsible enough to be a dad? Ahah…

Neo: No. I would rather not.

4. Do you use sarcasm a lot?

Pansy: I try not to, er, I’m not so great at it. And it’s kinda mean.

Ivan: I get reprimanded for being sarcastic. It happens regularly.

Queenie: What do you think?

Taylor: There’s always room for some well-placed sarcasm!

Neo: Any time I make a joke.

5. What’s the first thing you notice about people?

Pansy: I try to get a good read on folks—so, I guess their whole profile? That’s before I start looking at their individual features. If something sticks out to me from there, I’ll focus on that—but not in a mean way! Like, seeing someone’s smile, or if they’re carrying something, or their size, or claws. That’s what I mean.

Ivan: Their aura. It’s not difficult for me to discern a person’s moral alignment, and that’s important for my role.

Queenie: Their posture, how they walk, how they talk. It’s important for a first impression and can often be an indication of status. Or, perhaps more importantly, an indication of their intent…

Taylor: Their mood! I don’t want to step on the toes of anyone that’s angry, and happier people are more likely to give you the time of day, you know? Improving someone’s low mood is great too, but I have to gauge my limits.

Neo: I’m not known for noticing people. How social they are, I suppose.

6. What’s your eye colour?

Pansy: Psychic pink! They do that thing where they get more vivid when I use my powers—just the psychic ones, though. And I don’t use those too much ‘cause I risk a headache… still, I like my eyes.

Ivan: Brown, orange.

Queenie: Smoky Quartz.

Taylor: Brown. You know, like coffee? If I were a coffee, I think I’d be a Caffe Latte. … But, yeah they’re darker than that.

Neo: …I don’t mind my eyes being green as much as my hair.

7. Scary movie or happy ending?

Pansy: Don’t mind either one, but I’d prefer a happy ending, even in a scary movie. That said, there are scary movies I just won’t watch, so I guess happy endings win out.

Ivan: I don’t waste much time watching films unless I’m asked to, but I prefer a happy ending. A good story is the most important, though.

Queenie: Happy endings are far too sappy and saccharine, but I can’t say I receive much thrill from horror either. That’s not to say I don’t enjoy watching them … my favourite part of a movie is criticizing it.

Taylor: Happy endings, please! I can’t understand why anyone would want to scare themselves – unless it’s silly fun, but that’s different. Y’know, not that I scare easy or anything…

Neo: Scary movies tend to be more interesting, but… I don’t have anything against happy endings. Horror isn’t my genre, either, unless it’s psychological.

8. Any special talents?

Pansy: I have a bit of a green thumb!

Ivan: That all depends on your perspective.

Queenie: I’m an excellent piano player.

Taylor: People tell me I’ve got a lot of charisma, and I consider that a talent!

Neo: I suppose converting myself into digital matter could be considered a talent.

9. Where were you born?

Pansy: A town not so different from Erryton, actually! It’s not far.

Ivan: Great question.

Queenie: Enigma Island, not far from Thorn’s Peak.

Taylor: Would you believe me if I told you I couldn’t remember? Aha. I know we moved when I was really young.

Neo: Doesn’t matter.

10. What are your hobbies?

Pansy: Well, like I mentioned, I quite like doing plant stuff. I used to sketch ‘em and make notes about ‘em too, but I stick more to the practical side these days. I also like to bake! Mainly pies, cakes and cookies.

Ivan: I play the flute and cithara. Next question.

Queenie: I have a wide array of hobbies. I enjoy painting, reading, and playing the piano—as I have already mentioned. While I’m not … particularly adept at sewing, I practice cross-stitch on occasion. I also like to write poetry, and take a bit of interest in botany…

Taylor: Most of my hobbies have some aspect of music tied to them—I like playing the guitar, mixing tracks, and just listening to albums. But I also like playing videogames and taking apart machinery for fun. I can even help people fix things! Er, sometimes.

Neo: I read comics and watch movies, like most people. You wouldn’t be interested.

11. Do you have any pets?

Pansy: Not anymore, but I’ve had two cats – Mr Ravioli in my childhood home, and then Kiki later on. I’ve considered getting another, but I think I should wait until Primmy is a little older…

Ivan: No.

Queenie: Estelle! She’s a darling little kitty-cat and I love her so. <3

Taylor: One dog, a shibe—my father bred his, and I got a puppy. Tadashi!

Neo: My brother makes robots, and we have one of those roving floor cleaners. I would consider that a pet. We call him V.I.N.CENT.

12. What sports do you/have you played?

Pansy: I’m not really big on sports – I like magic fights? But I don’t do that a lot now.

Ivan: I may have taken part in some sport or another, but if I did, I did not commit it to memory.

Queenie: I like to swim, though I have not played any sports as such. I have also been horse riding—oh, and I’ve played badminton once or twice.

Taylor: Alice likes table tennis, and we play together sometimes. Apart from that, um… I’ve been asked to play football and baseball before?

Neo: I like to run. Parkour is fun too.

13. How tall are you?

Pansy: Five foot seven, and I’m the shortest in my family…

Ivan: Depends.

Queenie: A reasonable five feet and ten inches without heels.

Taylor: Ahaha … let’s just skip this one, shall we? You don’t need to know that.

Neo: Taller than you.

14. Dream job?

Pansy: I’ve pretty much got my dream job, all things considered! I guess I’d like it if I could get paid to do plant study, but I never really had the grades to do that as a job.

Ivan: I’m working on my rank.

Queenie: I have entertained the possibility of having a career before. Hotel management seems like an interesting prospect … or a jeweller, perhaps? Oho, I don’t know if I could be trusted to sell anything. Either way, I’m comfortable enough managing my home and finances.

Taylor: I’ve always wanted to be a big-name tv presenter—hell, even a small-name gameshow host! I’ve not given up on my dream yet, but being a radio show host is close enough. I can use it as a stepping stone. Yeah, a music quiz show would be great…

Neo: I don’t know. Even when it comes to things I like doing, I’m not sure I’d want to make a job out of it. Coding is just convenient.

15. Favourite subject in school?

Pansy: Science! I also liked geography, ‘cause I was pretty decent at it.

Ivan: I have never attended school.

Queenie: I’ve both been to school and had private tutors, but my favourite subjects were history and literature. They rely on eachother, so were easy to write papers on.

Taylor: Apart from the obvious ‘music’, it was mathematics—and yes, I’m serious! I also liked science and IT.

Neo: From what I remember of school, I liked science and computing classes. The rest of what I learned was from online courses.

That’s… that’s it? It just ends? Alright then.

#Pansy #Ivan #Queenie #Taylor #Neo #OC Questions

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marziyoudumbass · 4 years

Text

dates with the Allies

pairings: america x reader, england x reader, france x reader, russia x reader, canada x reader

synopsis: what kind of date would the Allies take you on? (also I didn’t do china, but did do canada. I’m sorry, I can’t write him)

============

alfred f. jones

100% would take you on a classic movie date

It’s probably a horror film too

Picks you up and drives you to the theaters

Tickets were already aquired so you just walk straight to get some snacks

Loads up on popcorn, candy, chocolate, ect

Are you looking at xyz snack for too long? He buys two

Gets slushies (or soda if you want, or water)

You’re scared for his bank account (movie theater food is expensive)

It ends up being a bit hard to carry but you both manage

You go to the back of the theater

You share a mega huge container of popcorn

You brush hands like in a cliche movie

Half the popcorn is gone before the movie even starts

He starts off all confident

“Its not gonna be that scary.”

“If you get scared I’ll protect you”

His brave acts crumbles at the first jumpscare

Lowkey clinging to you

If you’re scared, though, he’ll toughen up on the outside

He’s still a baby though

He’ll protect you as much as he can

Stress eater? Stress eater.

By the time the movie ends he’s calmed a little

Has a death grip on your hand (but not too hard bc he doesn’t wanna hurt you uwu)

Drops you off and probably kisses you on the porch

Overall 10/10 would recomend

arthur kirkland

Hmmmmm

I’m thinking he’d do a nice romantic dinner date

He’d be all gentlemanly

Picks you up at 7

“You look amazing, love.”

He’ll open the car door for you and other little things like that

The restaurant is really fancy but not super snobby

There’s a valet and everything

You end up having a nice table

Its kind of secluded and overlooking the rest of the restaurant

It’s a classic candle-lit dinner

You order and do all that stuff

While you wait for your food you talk

He’s as charming as ever

Compliments compliments compliments

It’s a fairly intellectual conversation

But you also joke around together

Your food comes and you eat

The main draw of this type of date for him is being able to talk to you

He gives you a pretty necklace

It goes by rather quickly :((

He’ll take you to his house afterwards

You continue your date there

OVerall 9/10, nice conversation and atmosphere, not super eventful

francis bonneyfoy

Okokokokok

You’d expect him to also do a cliche dinner date, BUT

I think he’d take you on a longer date then the rest would

It might not even be considered a date with how extra he is

You’re 100% going to France for this one

I think he’d take you to Disneyland in Paris

Maybe you’d drive, maybe you’d fly on a private jet, same dif

You’d go for Parc Disneyland first

You go to Phantom mannor, tour Sleeping Beauty Castle, go on Big Thunder Mountain, and even Space Mountain.

It’s a fun packed day!

You skip out on the food in Parc Disneyland

“It is nowhere near what you deserve, mon cher!”

(The food isn’t even good anyways)

After the park closes he takes you on a sweet picnic

Has a few candles but most of the light is from the moon

Probably bought you jewelry beforehand and presents it during this time

Loads of delicious, homemade-gourmet French cusine

Wine is a given

He might feed you

He compliments you but in the most extra ways

Makes you blush

Overall 100000/10 take me to Disneyland Paris please

ivan braginsky (baby)

He’s so sweet with his date

Like France, it would be more of a day out--just not as extravagant

It starts off as a simple walk through town

I like the idea of it snowing lightly

It's early mornimg

You’re both wearing coats and gloves, he’s holding your hand

You can’t really see his face, from your angle his scarf covers it

He’ll take you into little shops, if you want something, he’ll buy it for you

Would totally take you into a little clothing shop and buy you your own scarf

It’s probably a bit too big, but it’s the thought that counts

I think you’d mostly be in silence, just enjoying each other’s company

Small talk does occur, but only once in a while

You also window shop a bit, just looking through the big glass panes to see if anything interests you

He’s super considerate

“Are you having fun?”

“Would you like to go inside, любимый?”

“Are you cold, подсолнух?”

He just wants you to be happy

You then go to a small coffee shop

You sit in a corner and have coffe/hot chocolate/tea

I think he's not really a normal coffee kind of guy? Like, if he drinks coffee it's rarely coffe, cream, and sugar

He likes more lattes and macchiatos but doesn't mind a good cup of coffee

He's a huge softie for you

Stares at you across the table but lovingly

Like, he adores you

He can't believe you're his, his little sunflower

Overall 11/10 vv good and sweet

matthew williams

I think it is possible he does something like Russia, an early morning cafe date, but not at a cafe

He takes you to a cute little breakfast place

It has a very welcoming feel from the outside, like you just want to go in as soon as you see it

It's probably cold outside, so when you walk in, the warmth hits you like a freight train

To the far end of the dining area, there's a little fireplace, it's not real but still radiates immense heat

I think he'd take Kumajirou with you unless he wants it to be special or you don't like Kuma you monster

A nice big, cozy booth? Yes, only the best for you bb

Matthew, in contrast to Russia, likes a good, strong cup of coffe. A nice, simple one; two sugars, cream if he feels like it.

Honestly all these boys spoil you, and Mattie does it with pancakes

The place has some of the best pancakes in Canada, second only to Matthew's own

Everything you want, he'll pay for it

He orders the 'Unlimited Pancake' meal for himself (with unlimited syrup and butter)

He might be sweet but he's not the pancake eating champion for nothing

He thinks you're so amazing

So sweet, kind, mindful, you can see him

Even if that's not how you describe yourself, he makes you out to be an angel

The conversation is never lacking

He's an incredible listener

Baby is so whipped, everyone can see it by the way he hangs onto every syllable that comes out of your mouth

Even though he doesn't talk much, he does ask questions

"How have you been?"

"Are the pancakes good?"

"Do you need more syrup?"

When you're finished, he'll pull some strings to get dessert from the dinner menu

He lets you get what you want, but not too much because he cares about your health uwu

You get home and riddle

Overall 9.9/10, such a sweet date but I like waffles more than pancakes (don't tell him I said that)

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cheeseeatingtrashmonster · 5 years

Text

Sweet and Sour Secrets

Surprise! I’m not dead!

Ao3

Day 3: Date Night

"Marinette? What are you doing here?"

Marinette's head snapped up. One of her hands had a death grip on the arm of the chair hidden in the corner of the lobby of the Bourgeois's hotel. The other was compulsively smoothing her skirt, creating more wrinkles than it eliminated.

"O-oh! Adri-hi. I mean, hi, Adrien."

He glanced around the mostly empty lobby. "Are you meeting someone?"

"Yes." She froze, her eyes widening. She hadn't meant to say that. "Sort of. No. I mean... yes?"

"You look nervous," he said, glancing at the few people in the room with concern. "Do you want me to wait with you?"

"No!" She knew this was a bad idea. "No, thank you. Um, I'm sure you need to get home, or to a photoshoot or something, right? I'm fine."

It took another minute or two for Marinette to convince him to go, and in that time, Chloe had stepped out of the elevator and spotted them. Chloe had disappeared around a corner and Marinette hadn't seen where she was hiding, so when Adrien left, she sent a text.

"What was he doing here?" Marinette whispered, arms flailing with sharp movements when Chloe crept her way around the perimeter of the room to her.

Chloe grabbed Marinette's wrist to pull her out of the hotel, whispering, "He showed up out of the blue and whined for an hour about Nathalie not letting him see his dad. I love him, but I was ready to shove him out the window!"

"That's the third time he's showed up right before we had something scheduled." Marinette found herself shoved in the back seat of one of the hotel's limos. "Do you think he's onto us?"

The moment the car door was closed, Chloe wrapped Marinette in her arms and kissed her. "He didn't notice when you had a crush on him. You really think he's figured us out?"

"Hmm. Probably just a coincidence?"

"We can hope." She kissed Marinette's cheek. "Now, I'd like to treat my girlfriend like the spoiled, rich girl I am."

The driver dropped them off at a cafe. It was new enough and small enough that they were confident they could have a date there without seeing anyone they knew.

They had forgotten that Alya had recently taken up food blogging.

"Marinette? Chloe? Did you two walk in together?" Alya had paused mid-picture of her latte and cookie and was staring at the two young women.

"Ran into each other on the sidewalk," Marinette said.

At the same moment, Chloe said, "I asked her if she could spot me for a cup of coffee because I forgot my wallet."

"Oookay," Alya said. "Well, Marinette, if you want to sit with me..." She gestured to the open seat at her table.

Marinette felt Chloe move away from her and towards the counter.

"I, ah, can't stay. I have to go... look at hamsters with... with Rose! Yeah, she's thinking of getting one for Luka for his birthday, and- and I love Luka. I mean, I love hamsters!"

Chloe watched Marinette stumble her way through an excuse while waiting for their drinks. Marinette joined her, and with some sleight of hand, Marinette "paid" for their drinks with Chloe's money.

"I'll wait around the corner," Chloe muttered. She took her drink and left without saying goodbye to Alya.

"Rude," Alya said under her breath as Marinette stopped at her table.

"Hahaha, yeah, right?" Marinette said. "Well, gotta go look at those hamsters with Luka!"

"You mean, for Luka?"

Marinette's eyes widened. "Yeah! That! Um, bye, Alya!"

Alya snapped a picture as Marinette stumbled out the door, spilling some coffee on her arm. She composed a text and attached the picture.

To: Nino <3 and Adri-dork

Has M been acting weird lately?

She got back a shrug emoji from Nino.

From Adrien, she got a question that he refused to explain.

Was she with anyone?

What did that boy know?

“That was close!" Marinette said through giggles when she met up with Chloe. "Thank you for paying."

"Only the best for my Honey.” She turned her cheek to Marinette for a kiss. Her smile grew when she got it. “So, did you want to walk around the park? Daddy was just saying that the maintenance on this park was less expensive than he expected, so I wanted to make sure it’s still up to par.”

Marinette giggled again, linking her arm through Chloe’s and resting her head on her shoulder as they walked. “You know, you don’t actually have to do the job of the mayor until you’re elected.”

“And let Daddy give our family a bad name before I can come in and make it grand? Ridiculous, Marinette. Utterly-”

Marinette pulled her arm away and dove off the park path and behind a bush.

Chloe started to walk around the bush, looking for Marinette. “Um, what are you-”

“Chloe?”

She barely held back a groan as she turned to Ivan, Mylene, and Alix. “Hey. What are you all doing here?” Try though she did, she knew her tone of voice fell flat from the face Alix made.

“Enjoying the public park that is for the public?” Alix snarked, her arms crossed and chin jutting out.

“Oh.” Chloe reminded herself that these were her future constituents and took a breath. She might have gone a little too far into the political mindset. “What did you think of the new trash cans? Do you think they’re accessible enough? And are the trees looking a little ragged? I keep saying the trees here aren’t well maintained, but no one-”

A sweet, familiar voice cut Chloe’s rambling short. “Hello, citizens!”

“Ladybug!” all four classmates said, looking up to the lamppost where Ladybug was perching, her yo-yo swinging in one hand and a coffee cup in the other.

“If you’ll excuse us,” Ladybug said, “I need to borrow Queen Bee for some Miraculous business.”

Chloe looked at Ladybug like she was crazy. Ladybug winked.

“Oh! Oh right.” She opened her purse and brought Pollen into the dimming evening light. “These spur of the moment meetings. So ridiculous. I’ll see you guys later!” She gave her teammates a little wave, then backed off the trail into the grass before transforming.

Watching Ladybug lead Queen Bee off towards the sunset, Mylene asked Alix and Ivan, “Are they dating?”

Alix snorted. “I hope not. Ladybug has taste. Also, I’d lose a bet with Marc if they are.”

“Wait…” Ivan said, squinting after the blurs of color they could barely still see of the heroes. “Chloe likes girls?”

“Good save, Ladybug.” Queen Bee grabbed Ladybug’s hand and raised it above her head, spinning her around before looping Ladybug’s waist with the hand holding her coffee cup and dipping her back.

“That’s me,” Ladybug said, letting Queen Bee pull them upright again. “Full of good ideas. Kinda my thing.”

Queen Bee laughed. She shifted her arms to a loose hold around Ladybug’s waist. “Did you want to race, now that we’re all caffeinated?”

Ladybug nodded and dropped their empty coffee cups into the extradimensional space in her yo-yo. “We haven’t had a good race in ages. You pick the end point.”

They set their destination, readied their weapons, and on a joint count of three, took off. The city at dusk flew by and they left their shrieks and laughter behind as they went.

A few hours later, they were laying under the night sky on a random roof. Their hands were clasped and their heads bent together, giggling and whispering.

“I can’t believe that the first time we try a date in public, planning all sorts of things like cafes and parks our friends don’t frequent and making sure no one was at the hotel-” Ladybug giggled again, cutting herself off. “-I can’t believe we end up transforming and running off.”

“I can’t believe you dove into that bush when you heard Mylene and them coming.” She sighed. “Think of your poor dress. It’s probably wrinkled and dirty now!”

They dissolved in giggles again. It felt good, Ladybug thought, to just lie here and laugh and breathe with her girlfriend. She leaned over Queen Bee and placed a slow, gentle kiss on her lips.

“I had a really nice time tonight, Chloe.”

Queen Bee slid a hand up her arm, over her shoulder, and cradled the back of her head, bringing her down for another kiss.

And another.

“Me, too, Ladybug.”

#Chlonette Week #chlonette #chloinette #miraculous ladybug #marinette dupain-cheng #chloe bourgeois #sweet and sour secrets #my writing #events #so uh #i have nothing to say for myself

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in-the-name-of-the-manga · 5 years

Text

Burning Bridges, Building Confidence Chapter 1: A New-Old Face

Special thanks to @bigcheeseyboi for being my beta reader on this!

Also AO3 link if you want to follow it there.

A few days later, Marinette moved up the stairs of the school, far before anyone else had even arrived. Dark bags were barely concealed by second day foundation as she walked into the classroom, taking her seat in the far back. She felt Tikki roll in her sleep inside her purse; it had been a hard night for both of them, a stubborn akuma combined with Chat’s constant flirting caused them to spend the entire night fighting the akuma. They got back just in time for a twenty minute power nap before they had to get ready.

The Chinese-French girl yawned, curling up on the bench for an attempt to get a few more minutes of sleep, using the pushed in bench to get some dark and quiet space. She hoped that no one would mess with her, she’d even taken to putting locks on her bags, hiding the keys on a piece of twine in her purse next to Tikki. Less chance for Lila to steal something and/or plant evidence to frame her because the designer wouldn’t put it past that vile liar to do just that.

Marinette wasn’t sure when she drifted off, but either way she awoke to a large amount of noise and someone gently tapping on her shoulder. She turned over on the bench to see someone leaning over her.

“It is time to wake up, the class will start soon.” The person was speaking in awkwardly pronounced French, with a twangy hint and strong ‘r’ sound that Marinette remembered was an American accent. She rubbed her eyes and sat up, somehow missing the desktop. With her vision clearing, she turned to the new person.

She was easily taller than most of the class, save for maybe Ivan, with skin that was slightly tanned, likely by the sun. Her hair was a caramel colored mess that obscured her right side of her face, leaving her vivid green left eye to peek out. Marinette blinked for a second before breaking into a smile.

“Right.” She sat up, scooting over and patting the bench on her right side. The girl sat down, pulling out a notebook and pencil from a cool looking backpack. She then pulled a cord from the side and wrapping it around, snapping a lock shut once it was wrapped securely around the backpack. Marinette rubbed her eyes again and stole a glance around the room, noting her classmates crowding around Lila, throwing glares and stares at the two girls every once in a while.

Her phone vibrated in her pocket, alerting Marinette to a message. She pulled the phone, now with a tough case and screen protector, and unlocked it. There was a Discord message.

Cat-with-a-Bat.jpeg : u ok?

She turned to the girl next to her, eyebrows in a ‘really?’ face before turning back to her phone.

Stitches-and-Swatches : v little sleep

Cat-with-a-Bat.jpeg : want sum o my coffee?

Marinette nodded wearily, the girl slid a tall travel mug over to her. The heroine sighed in relief and took a huge swig of the warm liquid. The caffeine rushed through her system and within a few moments she was more alert.

Stitches-and-Swatches : thank u

Cat-with-a-Bat.jpeg : np. surprised 2 c me?

Stitches-and-Swatches : maybeso.gif

Cat-with-a-Bat.jpeg : i was planning on picking u up and walking here together but ur mom said you left early :(

Before Marinette could reply, Mme. Bustier walked in. She placed her stack of papers on the desk before surveying the class, noting the two distinct groups. Most of the class around Lila, while the two girls up top and Chloé were the other group.

“Class, time to start,” Mme. Bustier announced. The class wandered to their seats. “In case you haven’t noticed, we have a new student. Please introduce yourself.”

The girl next to Marinette, surveyed the class with a bored glare. “My name is Collette Sullivan.”

Mme. Bustier’s mouth set in a frown, “Won’t you tell the class a little about yourself? Are you sure you’ll be alright back there? You had mentioned your ”

“There is not much to tell. I am from America. I hate nicknames from strangers. That is all.”

Mme Bustier sighed before starting the lecture, this one on Shakespearean play Hamlet . About halfway through, Collette perked up. She nudged Marinette, who had begun to doze off again.

“She knows she’s recalling Othello, right?” Collette said in english. Marinette paused for a moment before nodding.

“I stopped listening once she mentioned Gertrude being in love with Claudius and called ‘Romeo and Juliet’ a love story.”

“Marinette, Collette,” Mme Bustier called. “Do you have something you’d like to share with the class?”

Collette glared back. “Yes. You do realize that you have been quoting Othello for the past fifteen minutes right? And Hamlet isn’t simply crazy, there’s been centuries of debate on that. I think you need to fix your notes a bit, you must’ve mixed something up.”

Mme Bustier blinked for a few moments, as did the rest of the class. No one had ever spoken to her or any teacher like that.

“So it seems I have,” Mme. Bustier noted, looking at her notes. “Well, give me a few minutes class while I go get a full copy from the library.” The teacher spun on her feet and walked out of the room.

In an instant all eyes were on the new girl.

“What?” She asked as deadpan as can be, giving each of them a bored gaze.

“You can’t just talk to teachers like that!” Alya exclaimed.

“She asked if I had something to share so I did. Got a problem with that?” Instantly there was an uproar, Rose and Mylene were wondering how she could be so mean and insult Romeo and Juliet like that; Lila was lying (something about meeting a student who she had to save after talking back to the teacher or something stupid like that); Max was reiterating the statistics of how likely she was to get in trouble for talking back like that and Kim and Ivan were simply glaring at her. Nino was saying how much of a buzzkill she was while Alya began yelling again.

Cole noticed that the only ones who weren’t crowding around her were a blonde girl a few seats over with earbuds and music playing, a boy with red hair in his face, and a blond down in front. So complacency with the latter two, great.

Mme. Bustier came in a few moments later with a proper copy of Hamlet and a relieved smile across her face, which quickly turned to a frown when she saw her class ganging up on the new girl and said new girl moments away from murder.

“Back in your seats class,” her voice held all the class needed to return to their seats, giving one last glare to the new girl. Class went on as well as it could have until the lunch bell rang. As she strode down with Marinette close behind her, Cole leveled a glare at each student, stepping over Kim’s purposefully outstretched leg and signalling Marinette that it was there.

They weren’t anything but sheep, and what was a herd of sheep to a human being?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chloé wasn’t sure what to think of the new girl. When she walked into the class and gave zero indication of anyone else in the class, even her, Chloé was intrigued.

If the new girl’s tousled hair, vivid green eye, cropped jacket, fingerless gloves, multiple ear piercings and ripped jeans set her cheeks alight, then it was no one else’s business but hers.

As she watched Dupain-Cheng, no Marinette , lead Collette around, Chloé followed at a distance. Sabrina had long since ditched her for Lila’s flock of sheep, so she had no one to worry about following her.

"No way Nettie," The new girl teased in english. The duo ran past the rest of the class who, like the sheep they’d become, surrounded Lila to hear her garbage fire of lies. Chloé ignored the arrogant Italian and followed the two girls.

“I’m telling you Lettie,” Marinette replied. They passed the glaring sheep and went out the door. Marinette had long since stopped staying at school for lunch, opting to go home for lunch instead. “There’s this really cute cafe two streets over, you’ll love it!”

Cole’s laugh, twangy and loud, echoed down the hall. Chloé easily caught sight of the new girl’s backpack, with a wrap around cord and a lock surrounding it, it was a dull gray and black contrasted by her cropped leather jacket, brightly colored bandana, silver earrings (with an ear cuff that just kept distracting Chloé during class), or the mess of hair that was likely styled to be a bit sharper and oh no she’s rambling .

“Really?”

“Yeah, they have that spicy chicken you like,” Marinette gave a cheeky grin to the girl. “Even if it pales in comparison to a nice pastry.”

The taller girl gives her an edgeless glare, before giving a theatrical laugh. “As if! Your sweet and flaky pastries are weak against the fires of my spicy chicken! Does your friend back there want to come?”

Chloé jolted as she realized she’d been caught. She steps out from behind the pilliar she’d ducked behind.

“Chloé?” Marinette asks. “I thought you’d be in the cafeteria already.”

Chloé tsks and and looks affronted. “And be assaulted by the lowering IQ of our class and the attention whore that is Rossi? No thank you.”

“I wholeheartedly agree,” Cole replied, her French no longer stilted and formal. “It takes all I have to not just toss her out the window into the dumpster where she belongs. Oh where are my manners,” she holds out a hand. “The name’s Collette Sullivan.”

“Chloé Bourgeois,” The blonde replies, shaking the taller girl’s hand. They shook briefly before Marinette spoke again.

“Chloé, do you want to join us for lunch?”

“If you’re extending the invitation, sure.” Cole smiled as the three walked out. To Marinette’s surprise, Chloé didn’t call for her car, opting to just walk with them.

They found there way to the cafe about seven minutes later, the hostess seating them kindly. They ordered their drinks, latte for Chloé, cherry soda for Marinette, and water for Cole. As they sipped their beverages, Cole pulled out a notebook, writing things down as her left arm bumping against the wall of the booth.

“You’ve got guts Collette, I’ll give you that.” Chloé said out of the blue. “No one would ever talk to Bustier like that, let alone call her out, even if she’s wrong.”

Cole looked up from her notebook, and ran a hand through her bangs. “Thanks I guess. I just really like Shakespeare and I hate when people don’t give it the thought it deserves. Especially the Romeo and Juliet thing. It always drove me up the wall.”

Marinette smiled, looking to Chloé. “She takes her Shakespeare very seriously.” She turned to Cole. “Didn’t you play Hamlet at one point?”

“I memorized his soliloquy, yes,” Cole took a big sip of her water. “Shame the only time I can remember performing it was in class standing on a rolling chair and wearing a recycling bin on my head.” Chloé let out an unladylike snort of laughter, the two other girls looked to her.

“Do you happen to have video of that,” Chloé laughed. “I’d love to see it.”

For a moment Marinette feared that Chloé was reverting to her old ways, but Cole lit up, pulling out her phone and unlocking it at lighting speed. It was a few taps later that Cole passed Chloé the phone, offering her the earbuds. After a few moments Chloé began to snicker. She burst out laughing a few minutes later. She put the phone down and took a few moments to collect herself.

“That’s...amazing,” Chloé gasped out, still recovering from her laughter. “You definitely put a lot of work into that.”

“Thanks.” The waitress came back and the three girls ordered their food. “I was running on about two hours of sleep when I did that, I’m surprised that I got it right.”

“Just as Shakespeare intended,” Marinette joked. Cole nodded and laughed aloud.

“Shakespeare was crazy,” the brunette replied. “And you can add so many spins to the stories when you’re performing.”

The waitress came back in near record time, dropping off Cole’s spicy chicken, Marinette’s croissant sandwich, and Chloé’s sushi. The three girls began to eat their lunch when Chloé asked a question,

“I’ve been meaning to ask, Mme Bustier mentioned a vision problem you had, but you refused to move up front. Why?”

Cole looked uncomfortable for a moment before replying. “It’s nothing that affects how I see out of this eye,” She pointed to the visible green eye, before pulling back her bangs and clipping them back. “This eye however is a bit...MIA I should say.”

“Whoa,” Chloé gasped. She took a moment to look at the eyepatch that covered Cole’s eye socket. It was black, with embroidered begonias, rhododendron, and mint leaves on it, while beneath it, some medical gauze and padding peeked out from behind it.

“How does the eyepatch fit?” Marinette asked. “Does it hurt?”

“The eyepatch is fine Mari,” Cole replied. She put a hand on Marinette’s shoulder. “Thanks for embroidering it for me. You’re the best cousin ever.”

“Wait,” Chloé interrupted. “You two are related? No wonder you got along so quickly.”

The two cousins nodded in unison, before bursting out laughing. Cole added, “Yeah, my mom and her dad are siblings. But I lived in America for a long while. I’m glad to be here though, I missed being with my family.”

Chloé looked between the two, the resemblance was there, faintly. The same freckles, same ears, similar noses too. And from what she remembered of Gina Dupain, her eyes matched her granddaughter’s, the hairstyle and clothing was also an indicator.

“Well I hope you have a good time in Paris,” Chloé replied. “And if you ever want to hang out, well, you know where to find me.”

“I’d be glad to hang out with you if you want. And Chloé?”

“Yes?”

“You can call me Cole if you want to.” Chloé nodded, feeling quite warm inside. She remembered Cole’s introduction earlier that day ‘I hate nicknames from strangers.’ Chloé must not be a stranger anymore then. Marinette’s smile seemed to confirm it.

They paid for their lunch and began to walk back to the school. As they got there, they heard a commotion from the cafeteria.

“MARINETTE!” Alya’s screech rang out. The blogger came storming down the stairs and right up to the designer. “How dare you! Bullying Lila when she went to the bathroom! Threatening to take away her friends! How could you be so selfish!? And you!” She spun to Cole. “Lila knows what you did! She heard about you faking a vision problem to try and get attention! You should be ashamed!”

Before Marinette could say anything, Alya was backpedalling, followed closely by Cole, whose aura had changed to be downright threatening.

“I’m sorry,” Cole’s voice was as sharp as a knife, sending chills up the spine of all three other girls, and the students hiding in the doorway. “I don’t recall asking the opinions of sheep and shower scum. If you just want to bitch, go somewhere else. But when you have a quality source, come talk to me. Because even with a vision problem, I can see this situation clearer than you could ever hope to. Now run along, you sheep. We have class to get to.”

Chloé and Marinette quickly followed the taller girl, who used her height and threatening aura to part the crowd like the Red Sea. She sent Mylene scampering behind Ivan, while Rose and Juleka peered around his other side. Kim gave her a glare, only to back pedal when she leveled her glare on him. As she passed Lila, clinging to Adrien like a lame sloth, she stated,

“And Rossi, if you have problems with someone with an actual disability, maybe you should shut your mouth. After all, you seem to stick your foot in it every time you open it.”

She leveled a glare at the Italian, who seemed genuinely scared, but more infuriated than scared. What a fool.

“You’re just mad I outed you.”

“Foot, meet mouth.” She pulled her cousin along, Chloé following not far behind. The three girls walked by and went to the classroom with little struggle, settling in the back. Chloé sat down, she noticed Cole tapping away on her phone before pocketing said device, turning to her cousin with a wink.

Class passed by with a tense air, whenever Cole spoke in class, Lila began to put on a show of waterworks. The rest of the class, sans Marinette and Chloé, would glare at her. As class was dismissed, the trio made plans to walk home together, she heard M. Damocles call out her name.

“Great,” She turned to Chloé and Marinette. “You guys go on ahead. Head wherever, just text me when you get home safe.” She handed Chloé a folded piece of paper, which when unfolded, had a phone number on it. “I’ll see ya later.” She headed up the stairs to the principal’s office. The two girls waved goodbye to the third. As she disappeared, Chloé turned to Marinette.

“We should get going, I don’t know about you, but I’m losing IQ points just standing here.”

“Sure,” Marinette replied. They made it down the stairs before anyone else could catch up to them, and as they walked into the bakery Sabine looked up from the counter.

“Hello sweetie, hello Chloé,” Sabine smiled. Marinette had told her how much progress Chloé had made since she decided to be a better person. It made the woman proud. “How’d you like your surprise at school Marinette?”

Marinette smiled sweetly. “I loved it! I’m so glad Lettie is here. It’s been so long since I’ve seen her. Is Nonna coming by anytime soon? They haven’t seen each other in years. ”

“She mentioned during her last phone call that she’d be back from Spain in a few days,” Sabine replied. “Why don’t you two girls head up? And take some snacks with you.”

“As much as I’d love to,” Chloé replied. “I have to go, my mother is headed out on a business trip and I want to see her off.”

Sabine and Marinette looked sadly at the girl. Despite accepting that she’d never get it, Chloé still held a bit of hope for her mother’s approval.

“Alright, but take these for the road,” Sabine replied, handing the blonde a box of honey and lemon flavored treats. “And text let us know when you get home safe.”

“I will, bye Ms Cheng, bye Marinette!” She waved to the two Chinese women as she gladly took the box and left the bakery.

“She’s come a long way these past few months,” Sabine observed.

“Yeah, even if she still has her moments,” Marinette replied, she joined her mother behind the counter, hugging her. Her mom smelled like the bakery, warm baked pastries and hints of butter and fruit.

“How did class go for you and Cole today?” Marinette frowned, even as she felt Tikki nudge her in her purse.

“It was decent,” She admitted. “Lettie didn’t make a good impression with the class, but I don’t think she cares.”

“She never was one to care, what was that thing she used to say?”

“‘Those who mind don’t matter and those who matter don’t mind’,” Marinette recited. Sabine hugged her daughter again. After a truly rough day, Marinette had admitted how her classmates were changing, and it wasn’t for the better. Sabine had been livid, and her daughter just managed to calm her down. She trusted her daughter to come to her if there was anything she could do, and Marinette admitted she had one idea. Transfer classes at the beginning of the next school year.

“Are you alright though?” Sabine asked, looking her daughter in the eye. “I know you used to really care about the class.”

“I still do to an extent,” Marinette admitted, tracing patterns in the flour on the counter. “But I’ve been wronged so much by them these past few months, that I don’t think I can ever return to the way things used to be.”

“And I’m glad you’ve come to that decision,” Sabine pressed a kiss to her daughter’s forehead. “You’ve listened to your emotions, and made the decision for yourself. I’m so proud of you.”

Marinette wanted to cry. She loved her mom so much, Sabine had been a lot like Marinette when she was younger, a people-pleaser, overworking herself, changing herself to fit others’ demands, it was when she met Tom that she finally began to work past those issues. Sabine knew a little bit of what Marinette was feeling, but Marinette wished she could tell her more. About Ladybug.

“I know Mom,” Marinette replied. She broke the hug reluctantly. “I’ve got to go get my homework out of the way.”

“Alright sweetie,” Sabine handed her a plate of croissants and cookies to eat. “Don’t forget to take a break or two.”

“Okay Mom.” she took the plate and went upstairs to her room.

As she climbed up to her room, Tikki flew out of her purse. “Cole seems nice.”

“Yeah Tikki, I really missed her. I haven’t seen her in years.” The teen dumped her bag at her desk and sat in the chair. “I just wish she didn’t get a first hand look at Lila’s lies on her first day.”

“It was inevitable Marinette,” Tikki replied. “The longer Lila keeps lying, the more the class will turn against you. Since Cole is related to you, even if they don’t know it, Lila must consider her a threat.”

“She is,” Marinette replied. She typed out a message to her cousin on their discord chat. “We’ve been told we’re a lot alike, except I got most of the sweetness. She’s very good at planning. I think she’s more of a threat to Lila than I am.”

Suddenly there was a crash heard throughout Paris. Marinette looked up, seeing a cloud of dust rising from the ground and hearing the yells of panicked civilians.

“Of course,” She sighed. “Let’s hope Chat actually does something this time. Tikki, spots on!”

#Marinette Dupain-Cheng #marinette dupain cheng #ml salt #ml salt fic #ml fic #BurningBridgesBuildingConfidence #anti lila #lila rossi gets no rights #just saying #Collette 'Cole' Sullivan (OC)#chloe bourgeois #sabine cheng #ml tikki

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