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mimikilstories · 2 years

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Miracles of Arx Nubibus Chapter 8

It was a Saturday evening. Joey was on his way back home from a year-end party his friends had decided to hold. The party was only half-over, but Joey had seen everyone he wanted to see and didn't feel like getting into the drinks. His doctor had warned him against alcohol usage for the time being.

Besides that, most of them weren't 21 yet. Plus, he'd decided to be back earlier so he could get to bed early and wake up early to play games with Ned again. The kid had really gotten him into those things in the past year. To be fair, they felt like the most freedom he had had while he was in the early stages of recovering so there was good reason for him to feel attached to a couple of games.

Just above him, a movie theater was emptying. The 6:00 movies must have just finished. When he caught a glimpse of a gold mask in the crowd, Joey instinctively turned his head away. There was no way Achilles could recognize him, but he didn't feel like tempting fate.

Overhead, he caught the sound of some kind of uproar, so he glanced back up again, only to freeze in place at what he saw.

Olivia stood with her back to a wall, carefully looking over each person in the crowd. Achilles should come through any moment. The crowd would help conceal her until her work was done, and the disguise should keep anyone from recognizing her as the woman on the news.

She felt like she'd waited eons for this. The Miracle burned in her chest, begging to be unleased.

Only a little longer, and then we will see how much you can do.

Achilles began weaving his way through the crowd and she joined the swarm of people going up to him and fawning over him. It disgusted her to do so, but she needed her cover. The 'hero' himself smiled and gave out autographs freely. She smiled as brightly as she could command herself to and joined another couple of young women squealing over how strong he looked.

Achilles laughed bashfully, then at their request struck a couple poses. Onlookers cheered and took pictures, while Olivia kept her smile plastered on and met his eyes. They were a bit hard to see through the mask, but they were a lovely colour.

She continued laughing and cheering with the others, letting the flow of the crowd push her towards the back, never once taking her eyes off of Achilles. When she was back near the wall she'd started at, she activated her Miracle.

Goodbye, murderer, Olivia thought coldly, masking her hatred with a neutral expression.

Pride burned in Achilles' chest as he interacted with his fans. They all loved him, and it helped give him a sense of purpose. Not that doing good wasn't good enough for him, but the praise and adoration was the icing on the cake. And he loved icing.

One teenage girl came up beside him and asked for a selfie, which he cheerfully obliged. The phone screen showed the two of them, surrounded by others who made faces and held up peace signs, and Achilles smiled beneath his mask, even if no one could see it.

When the camera flashed, he noticed one person with a knife pointed at the girl's back. He quickly shoved her aside and grabbed the man's hand, wrestling the knife out of it.

"Hey! Give that back," the man demanded, leaping after the knife. Achilles held it up and away.

"I can't let you use something so dangerous here. What were you planning to do with it?"

"Huh? I wanted to take a picture too!" Achilles frowned in confusion before taking a second look and realizing that what he'd thought was a knife was in fact just a phone.

"Sorry. I mistook it for something else," he said, ready to die of embarrassment, as he handed it back.

"Did you now?" The voice echoed around him. He glanced quickly around him, suddenly noticing that everyone was smiling darkly, with knives strapped to their clothes.

"What...?" The crowd took out their knives and launched at him, brandishing the weapons. He held up his hands instinctively before remembering that knives couldn't hurt him. Instead, he lurched forward, trying to confiscate as many knives as possible before someone else got hurt.

Olivia held back the desire to laugh. Achilles was wrestling his adoring fans, stealing their cell phones and tossing them over the railing. This was perfect. Their unflappable hero would soon be criminalized for his actions here. A few people stood back, filming the entire thing.

What if she upped the anty a bit?

In a few moments, Achilles was fighting the civilians, knocking them out with punches to the stomach and holding one by the neck, causing tears to stream down the terrified man's face. One person near the back was calling the military.

"I don't know what's going on, but Achilles is attacking people! Please help. We're on Block 9-9-3."

Olivia could barely hold back her glee.

Joey made it to the top of the stairs and back down towards the commotion. Really, he should have been running as far away as possible, but things had looked bad from his last vantage point. Now Achilles was strangling some poor guy, who looked like he wouldn't hold out for much longer.

Someone had to stop this. Joey took a couple steps back and hid in a side street, hoping someone would stop this insanity.

"Barron! Pena! Sims! I need your squads to get to 9-9-3 immediately!" Lieutenant Galvan's voice boomed through the building. Larsen grabbed her gun and vest, preparing to head out with the rest of her squad.

"What's going on, Galvan?" Sims asked, his voice just as loud as the lieutenant's.

"Achilles is on a rampage! We have about five calls coming in about it. I want you all there five minutes ago!"

"Sir!" Sims' reply acted for all of them. Larson stood by the door, waiting for Barron and the others. Within thirty seconds, they were at the door and running down the street at full speed. 9-9-3 was two floors up and two blocks over, so it wasn't too far, but response times were vital. Especially if people were getting hurt.

Larsen just hoped they could make it in time.

Rayguns pelted Achilles' impenetrable body. The knives were all gone, but rayguns had appeared in their place. No matter how hard he tried, it was like playing Whack-A-Mole. Several people were groaning on the ground from the shots, and the man in his grasp was trying to reach a larger raygun meant for military use.

How had they gotten so many guns? And knives? Weren't they all from the theater? Why would the theater staff let so many weapons through their doors?

"Put down your weapons!" Achilles pleaded desperately. The crowd didn't oblige. A child who looked no older than five stared at him coldly, raising a weapon towards the man Achilles was holding on to and beginning to squeeze the trigger.

Achilles charged at him, letting the other man go, and swept the boy into his arms, wrestling the raygun hard enough that the kid screamed in pain.

I'm sorry, Achilles thought as he wondered if he'd broken the child's wrist. Even so, the onslaught didn't stop. A punch came at him from the side from a woman, along with screams.

"You monster!"

His heart quivered, but Achilles had vowed to pursue this path to its bitter end. He would make the one who had given him this Miracle proud of him.

A large number of footsteps came down the street, and Joey saw that the military had arrived. Relief engulfed him as he saw them. They would solve this. This was their job, what they'd been trained for. One of the officers directed the others to surround Achilles and get everyone to safety. The ring they formed around Achilles wasn't huge, but it was all they seemed to be able to do in this situation.

"Achilles! Stand down. You are under arrest for assault and terror." Officers continued to move people behind the ring as Achilles fought. Slowly he paused and looked at them. A little boy was in his grasp, tears streaming down his face.

"Mama!" the boy cried.

"Please save him!" The woman who seemed to be the boy's mother was clinging to one of the commanding officers, her hands wrapped around her arm.

"Please stand back, ma'am. We'll handle this," the sergeant replied, reaching for her raygun.

"I won't let you keep this up," Achilles muttered. "I can't stand down until everyone's safe."

"You're the one putting them in danger!"

"Release the boy."

"If you do not comply, we will shoot." Each of the sergeants spoke, as their subordinates finished emptying the circle. Joey couldn't tear his eyes away from the scene.

Why would Achilles do this? He'd seemed so easygoing and mellow. What was he attacking civilians for?

"I told you, I won't stand down. You're the ones who need to back off," Achilles growled, tightening his grip on the kid.

"Fine then. Officers, open fire! Do not hit the child."

"Sir, will rayguns work?" a female officer asked.

"Of course they'll work, Larsen. Now shoot!"

A cacophony of noise accompanied the energy beams that landed on Achilles' lower half. Aiming too high would put the boy in danger, so the officers seemed to be aiming for his legs.

"You think that'll work on me?" Achilles asked, pushing the kid behind him. Not a mark could be seen on him. The beams hadn't even damaged his costume.

Dread settled in Joey's stomach as he realized the military couldn't fix this. Achilles had a Miracle that rendered their efforts futile.

As she watched the chaos she'd wrought, Olivia barely kept from cracking a smile. Soon Achilles would find that he had no more oxygen, and then what would he do?

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kumkaniudaku · 2 years

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Prompt Request : “I’ve never wanted to lick the buffalo hot wings sauce out of someone’s mouth but here we are.” Reader x Damson Idris 😊

Dating for Damson was complicated. Star power had its drawbacks, and not dating like a normal 30 year old was at the top of the very short list.

He wasn’t afraid of the often talked about gold digger or meeting an overzealous fan. He was terrified of not living up to the expectation many women had concocted on internet forums and in his private messages. As charming as he usually was, the pressure to always entertain was stifling. He just wanted a good time. A chance match on an dating app had him hoping for the best and preparing for the worst.

She was a cute girl. The prompts on her profile painted her as an ambitious geek with a passion for baking and Call of Duty. He doubted the last one, but struck up a conversation solely based on a pair of Prada heels in one of her photos. The words flowed effortlessly for two weeks until she extended the invitation to a mini golf attraction. Standing in front of the building while a Spring chill in Atlanta tried to cool off the muggy evening, he was starting to believe that she’d pulled the greatest vanishing act he’d seen thus far.

“Damson?”

A pleasant Southern drawl caught his attention before bringing him face to face with the woman of the hour.

“Oh wow,” he uttered louder than intended. When her expression showed a bit of confusion, he straightened up and extended his hand. “I meant, yes. Damson. Alicia, right?”

“Yeah. Sorry to keep you waiting. Did you get my text?”

Confusion came before his embarrassment. Had he carried both of his phones, he likely would’ve received what ever explanation she’d sent. But the absence of his business phone killed any chance of that.

“Uh, no. I left my other phone at my place and-”

“Damn, I’m in the fake phone? We startin’ on the wrong foot already,” she laughed. When Damson let off an awkward chuckle in response, she gave him a reassuring smile. “I’m joking. If we’re gonna be out tonight, you gotta loosen up. I didn’t touch up these braids for nothin’.”

“Oh so, that’s why you were late? And here I was cancelling my hair appointment to be on time for you!”

Their shared laughter rang out in the crowded parking garage, drawing attention that only made them laugh harder.

Easy energy kept the conversation light as Damson and Alicia rolled through rounds of indoor mini golf. Her competitive streak led to back and forth tales of their days as athletes between lessons on British slang. For the first time in over a year, Damson felt comfortable enough to drop pieces of his public persona and slip into a more comfortable version of himself. Talking to her felt like second nature. Each corny joke and song lyric reference had him wondering what she’d be like on date two, three or more.

“So, how you likin’ the city?” Alicia asked after wiping hot wing sauce from her mouth for the 100th time.

“Eh, it’s alright. It’s not Peckham or LA, but it’ll do.”

Alicia studied Damson’s sideways grin before rolling her eyes. “You like seeing me fired up, huh?”

“What makes you think that?”

“Because ain’t no way you’d blaspheme my hometown and not think that I won’t pipe up.”

“Ooh, pipe up. I’ll add that to my Urban Dictionary research list.” He watched her roll her eyes again with a laugh. “One thing I will say is that wings here are top 10 in the world.”

“If we don’t do nothing else, we gone fry and sauce a wing! Stick around long enough and I’ll take you for some at one our local gourmet establishments.”

“Local gourmet? Is this a steakhouse or…”

“I’m sure they can throw a steak on for you down at The Flame or Magic.”

“The Fla…” Damson’s voice trailing made Alicia giddy with anticipation while he slowly came to a slow realization. “You’re trying to take me to a strip club.”

“And a couple other places if tonight goes as planned.”

The pair shared bashful stares across the table before diverting to get a look at their surroundings. Damson felt the long forgotten flutter or butterflies in his gut and chuckled at himself. Feeling for a random dating app link wasn’t in the plan. But Alicia felt like a change of pace that he was willing to explore.

“So, we sh-”

“Is it cool if I-”

Laughter took over the conversation to cover their embarrassing blunder.

Damson nodded to give Alicia the go ahead. “Ladies first.”

Alicia released a shaky breath to steady the words on the tip of her tongue before speaking. The corners of her mouth turned up into a flirtatious smile.

“Look, I don’t believe in beating around the bush. I’ve been thinking about kissing you all night. And I feel like we’re on the same page about that the way you keep looking at my lips, but let me know if I’m wrong about that.”

“I have been looking at your lips,” Damson admitted. “But mainly because you are smashing those wings and you have sauce all over your mouth.”

Alicia’s face morphed into a horrified expression while she rushed to get a look at her lips in her phone’s camera. Before she could finish the motion, Damson carefully gripped her wrist.

“I didn’t say entirely. I’ve never wanted to lick the buffalo hot wings sauce from someone’s mouth before, but here we are.”

The world around them seemed to slow as they searched for reassurance in each other’s eyes. A tentative move forward from Alicia led Damson to mirror her actions until there lips met and electricity made them tingle from head to toe.

Damson was the first to break the kiss and smile.

“Okay so, there are two things I like about Atlanta.”

#damson idris imagine #damson idris #request

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nobodyfamousposts · 3 years

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Chloe's Lament Part 2

Next part of Chloe's Lament. Chloe begins to learn of the changes to reality from her Wish.

She will not be happy about this.

____________________

When Chloe woke up, the first thing that struck her was the loud banging sounds from somewhere below her.

The second thing was pain.

“I have a headache!” She called out, laying an arm over her sleep mask-covered eyes. Her butler would hear her and respond accordingly, of course. He always did.

“And get them to stop that racket down there!” She flopped on her bed with a huff, waiting for the help to return with aid.

Really, the things she dealt with!

Normally, her butler would arrive immediately, with painkillers and fruit-infused water being presented to her within a minute.

But to her growing frustration, that minute came and passed.

Then two.

Three…

Not that Chloe was counting.

Eventually, it had been five minutes and there was still no word from the man. And to make matters worse, that damn banging from below was only getting louder and increasing her suffering.

“Ugh! Do I have to do everything myself?!”

She ripped off the sleep mask, only to wince at the level of brightness in the room. She was on the top floor with the best visibility but the windows were supposed to be tinted and covered to prevent this very thing!

Once her vision cleared, several things should have stood out as odd.

But the first thing to attract her notice was the sleep mask she had just removed—some cheapo dime-store brand. She tossed the rag away with a shriek.

“Is this a prank?!” She demanded. “That is not my personalized diamond-studded satin custom made facial mask! Jean? Jean!”

There was a ruckus from below. The sound of something being dropped. Footsteps—loud and fast and getting closer. Then the opening of a door.

“Precious! Is everything okay?”

She sneered at the sound of her father’s voice.

“No! My sleep mask was stolen, it’s too bright, my head is KILLING me and no one is getting me anything to help!”

He looked confused at that. “Are you out of Efferalgan in your bathroom cabinet?”

She gave him a look. Why would she have to get up and go to the bathroom for some painkillers when there should be someone to hand them to her?

He gave her a strange look in response. Like he was confused his daughter would expect someone to do something as simple as bringing her painkillers and water.

And water.

Preferably cherry-infused.

Was that really so much to ask? Or even require asking?

“Just…hang on a moment.” He said and left her her bathroom.

Finally.

With nothing to do but wait, she glanced around, noting that…this was not her room.

Not the one she knew, anyway.

The light that had blinded her before was from a central window overlooking the room that so obtrusively settled on her bed. In addition, there was a skylight placed above a nook set behind her bed, which brought more light into the room.

She vaguely recognized the room. Well, by its floor plan, at least. The layout and decor threw her off though. The furniture and items were clearly cheaper than her usual high end designer brands. But she saw aspects that were suited to her tastes. Minute indications of her own touch in the assortment of objects around her. Yellow and white as the themes. Black cushions and aesthetic.

It was…decent. But so beneath her it was embarrassing! These were cheap models! Practically plastic! The bedsheets were…ugh…cotton of all things! The lamps were dim! She was missing her boudoir! And her shoes! And her jewelry! She didn’t even want to imagine the nightmare that was her closet—it was practically a hole in the wall! There was no way it would fit everything!

“Here you are, dear!” Her father said, returning from her bathroom with a glass of water and a pill in hand.

She fought the grimace.

Was this tap water?

Gross!

By his expectant look, he clearly meant for her to drink it.

With her continuing headache and no better option for fast relief, Chloe reluctantly took the proffered items. She was unable to help the slightest grimace before she downed them both.

“Well, if that’s all, I’ll be getting back to setting up for the morning rush. Come downstairs to the bakery when you’re ready.” He looked almost relieved to be leaving.

Chloe barely took notice now that she had what she needed. Instead, she took to contemplating her situation and her new surroundings.

All the furniture aside, this room looked familiar. Not really well known, because Chloe was sure she had never been in such a place before. But…like she had seen it somewhere…TV maybe?

And her Daddykins was here. That meant…wherever she was, it was apparently expected for her to be here.

But where was here?

The last thing she remembered was…

She closed her eyes, straining to think past the pain.

That’s right! Hawk Moth’s offer! The Bee! She was Miracle Queen! And she had just won! She had Ladybug beaten…

Her fists clenched.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng…

It hit her.

This was just like her room!

She had only seen it a couple of times. Once for sure when Sabrina had snuck into her room per Chloe‘s instructions for blackmail material. She happened to glimpse a picture of the room here or there from other people’s phones of times that they had spent in this room—that she had really cared. It was a small and dingy room that had nothing on her glamorous abode at the hotel, which of course, was superior in every way.

She was vaguely reminded of that one show that Marinette hadn’t stopped talking about which had also apparently shown Marinette‘s room, but Chloe honestly hadn’t been bothered enough to watch it, so she didn’t have that to go on. But with what she did know, it was a safe bet to assume that this was some knockoff of Marinette‘s room.

So why was Chloe here? Why was her dad downstairs?

She… she had made the Wish, hadn’t she?

…

What…is this it?

She turned up her nose at the environment around her, completely unimpressed.

Was this dinky little room with its weird setup and tacky decor what the Wish gave her? Why would she be in any copy of Dupain-Cheng’s room layout anyway?

The Wish should have changed reality, that much was clear. There was no way she would be caught dead in Dupain-Cheng’s room otherwise—much less sleeping there like it was her own room!

…unless…it was her room?

Was it?

She had found some aspects of the room to her taste, but did that mean this was hers?

It would explain why she was there. And why her Daddy had come up. He had mentioned her bathroom earlier, then had gone through the nearby door to get a tablet and water from what she could only assume was the bathroom he had spoken of.

…he had mentioned a bakery.

Eyes wide, she stumbled out of bed and to the window. Sure enough, the school was just across the way. And there was a sign out front.

“Bourgeois Bakery”

Chloe stared.

Suddenly, it clicked. The banging from downstairs. Her Daddy talking about a ‘morning rush’. And to come down to the…

…no way!

This place was a bakery! Her Daddy was operating a bakery!

And given her location, it was the same bakery that Marinette’s parents owned originally!

This…

…wait…

…did this mean she was supposed to be Marinette?

She threw her pillow in a fury.

Stupid Wish! This wasn’t at all what she wanted!

You would think all-powerful Wish-granting artifacts would do it right!

“Where are those kwamis?!” She demanded, jumping out of the bed and looking around for anywhere she would keep such important jewels. “I’m going to give them a piece of my mind!”

She had a boudoir along with the various jewelry pieces kept there ranging among a variety of gold and diamonds—all fakes, much to her disappointment. And not a single Miraculous among them.

She slammed the final drawer in with a curse.

Nothing!

If she had the Miraculous, shouldn’t they still be with her? Do they just disappear after being used?

Ugh! Those things really were useless! Utterly useless!

It was when she stood back to full height that she noticed the monthly calendar. There were the standard holidays, but also a weekly appointment every Friday evening with some ‘Bridgette’. What was that? A spa day?

She shot a glance to her reflection in the mirror and grimaced. She definitely needed one. She could just feel all the oils on her skin!

But more to the point, there was one day circled on the calendar.

‘Start of School’

She grabbed her phone—an older, obsolete model with a glittery but fake casing—and checked the date.

That…

That was today.

It was the first day of school. A…

She checked the date again, and sure enough, it was a year ago!

Had the Wish taken her back in time?

She froze, realization hitting her.

This was the first day of school. The same day as the first akuma attack.

And when Ladybug first appeared.

That meant…she was sent back in time to the day Marinette would become Ladybug.

It was a year in the past. She wasn’t at the hotel. Her room was in a bakery. Her father was working as a baker. She was Marinette now.

That meant…

She giggled, feeling a giddiness rise within her.

Today was the day she becomes Ladybug!

It looks like the Wish did something right, after all!

Chloe grinned, spinning away from the mirror and to her closet.

She had to get ready! She had to prepare the perfect outfit! Something for the day she becomes a hero!

No. THE hero!

She knew how the Ladybug worked. Hell, she knew the akumas to come. With her prior knowledge and skills, she would know how to use the yoyo and how to use the Lucky Charm better than the old Ladybug ever did! She’d have every akuma in the bag!

Hell, maybe she could force the Ladybug kwami to tell her where the Guardian is so she can get the other Miraculous, too! That way, she could have both the Ladybug AND the Bee again.

And her Adrikens would be her partner! To support her! To stay by her side! Just as it should be!

She paused, something niggling at the back of her brain. There was something she was forgetting.

A glance around the room as she wondered

Of course, the full extent of the change and just what that meant didn’t really hit her until she went downstairs and actually saw her father.

The poor man was in the middle of retrieving a pan lined with croissants from the unbearably hot oven, his hair contained in…fishnet? Latex? Whatever the cafeteria cooks wore when she had no choice but to eat from the school’s lunchroom.

Gross! He looked like a lunch lady!

He didn’t seem to notice her, too busy dancing around the kitchen and checking over the…whatever pastries those were and just looking proud of himself.

Daddykins, no. You’re better than this! How could you be reduced to such a state?

He seemed to notice her staring. “Are you feeling better?” He asked, looking concerned.

“Er…yeah.” She replied. She wasn’t, really, but she couldn’t tell him that. He could try to have her stay home and how would she get to see the fruits of her labors from there?

“Ah good!” He said cheerfully. “It is the first day of the new school year, and you certainly want to…” He hesitated, “…start off on the right foot.”

A pause. He looked at her expectantly, but she had no idea what he was getting at.

He shook his head and turned away for a moment to grab a box before coming back and presenting it to her.

Clearly he wanted her to take it, so she sighed and took hold of the box. A peek inside revealed a number of macarons.

For her? Now this was what she was talking about!

“Oh, Daddykins! You shouldn’t have!”

“Yes,” he said with a nod. “I figured it would be a great way to start off the new year by sharing them with your classmates.”

Ugh. Seriously? All happy feelings vanished in an instant and she shot him a petulant look.

“Why should I have to share?” She demanded.

He hesitated.

She glared, tapping her foot in a clear indication of wanting an answer. Or preferably for him to just say they were all hers.

“It’s a new year and a new start.” Andre said, smiling nervously. “Maybe it’s time to just let bygones be bygones?“

It was a stupid question and she sure let him know it. She stared at him flatly, causing him to wilt.

Andre sighed.

“I know you don’t like her, but…” he hesitated. “Please, just try to get along?”

She blinked.

“Her?”

Wait.

Wait…

It suddenly struck her.

If she was Dupain-Cheng now…

That meant Marinette was in her shoes!

She grinned.

Marinette would be her bully! She’d be the rich bitch daughter of the Mayor and loathed by Paris while Chloe would be—

The one everyone rallied around.

The one Adrikens adored.

The one chosen as Ladybug!

She would have it all!

Part of her hoped the other girl would know about the previous reality…just so she could shove it in her face!

“Just take it slow,” he continued, unaware of her true thoughts. “And then you can report about it to Bridgette at your counseling session on Friday.”

Wait—counseling?

Seeing her expression, he held up his hands in a gesture of peace.

“I know you don’t like it, but it was part of the agreement. You need to make a better impression this year, sweetie.”

“What?”

“She’s the daughter of the Mayor. I’m not sure we can take another…” He trailed off before shaking his head and looking at her imploringly. “You understand, right?”

Oh.

She got it!

“Of course, Daddykins!”

Clearly Dupain-Cheng was abusing her influence, just as she thought!

She had to hand it to the girl…a part of her hadn’t been quite convinced that she would go quite that far. But that just proof that Marinette Dupain-Cheng wasn’t so perfect and that even she would be the same as Chloe once in her position!

Chloe knew she would have to bear with the mistreatment for now. No matter how much it would grate her. It would suck to have to have to accept it for any period of time.

Still, it would be worth it! It just meant even more ammunition to use against her once Chloe was Ladybug!

She didn’t even notice the look of concern he gave her or his weak goodbye as she left the bakery with the box in hand. She was too wrapped up in her own thoughts. Particularly her plans.

And what plans they were!

So what if Maribrat had Chloe’s wealth? It wasn’t like she knew the first thing about status or being a symbol. No, Ladybug did that for her and she didn’t even use it right! Not like Chloe would.

She smirked to herself, imagining the future.

Well, as soon as she got the Miraculous, taking the pigtailed down a peg would be the first thing on her list. Maybe a dip in the Seine? Or ‘accidentally’ getting her hit by an akuma or two?

Why limit it to her personally? If Ladybug spoke out against the mayor, who would vote for him? From what she remembered of Marinette’s dad, that oaf had no business being in politics anyway! Then there was the hotel, which would no doubt be a mess with him in charge anyway.

And best of all, she thought with glee, with a word from Paris’s favorite hero, Dupain-Cheng could be implicated as an ally of Hawk Moth.

Who wouldn’t believe it? If Marinette was in Chloe’s place, that meant she had to be a brat despised by Paris. Everyone would likely jump at the excuse to run her out of the city!

It was slightly disappointing that the former Ladybug wouldn’t know why the new Ladybug was so against her or that she had even been replaced, but she didn’t deserve answers anyway.

For once, Chloe was getting everything she wanted. It was like the Universe itself was on her side! Chloe would be the hero with all the Miraculous and status just as she’d always deserved. And everyone would automatically see it and love her while they would already recognize Marinette as the selfish bitch Chloe always knew she was!

It was a win/win for Chloe and all her fans—which was the best kind of win for Chloe.

Sure, it meant she would have to suffer the loss of her basic comforts like a butler, the latest in fashion and accessories, and easy immediate access to a luxury spa for now…but it would be worth it in the long run.

…maybe not the luxury spa. She would kill for the hotel’s oils and masseuse. But she would just have to deal with, ugh, scheduling with a four star locale in the meantime.

It’s for the greatest good, she reminded herself, looking mournfully at her chipped nails.

And besides, she didn’t have to suffer for long.

Today was the first day of school, which signified the first appearance of Ladybug! This was the day she achieved her destiny! Once she became Ladybug, she would be back on top!

So what if her dad was a baker instead of a hotel owner this go around? Who said it had to stay that way? Just as she could use her position to defame the Dupain-Chengs and ruin Marinette, she could endorse the bakery for free publicity. Do special promotions and deals for money. Or even better! She could make the city pay her for her work!

After all, how much was her Miracle Cure worth, really? How much would the city be willing to pay for her to fix the damage caused by akuma fights? It was only what she was owed; the least they could do is compensate her for her time.

Really, it was Marinette’s own fault for not taking advantage while she could. She could’ve been an idol or the city’s star. She could have used the Miraculous to create an army. Hell, Hawk Moth should have been nothing against her! And instead, she just…wasted her potential. On things like loose zoo animals or out of control helicopters, no less!

Chloe wouldn’t make the same mistakes.

And now that Chloe was set to be the city’s hero…

Even if Marinette was rich (for now), it would be nothing compared to what Chloe would have. She would be Paris’s hero! The BEST hero! And unlike that has-been, she at least would use Ladybug’s power and status right!

She didn’t need to be the daughter of the Mayor! Her Mother was still THE Style Queen, Audrey Bourgeois. Adrien Agreste was still her best friend. She was still Chloe Bourgeois, the best thing to happen to Paris! And now as Ladybug, she would still be back on top and ruling Paris in no time!

And it would all start once she got to school.

“Get out of my way!” She exclaimed, shoving some old fart taking his sweet time walking, sending him to the ground and out of her way.

Move aside, peons!

Her destiny awaits!

Back at the intersection, Chloe never noticed the way the elderly gentleman cast her a judging stare from his position on the ground. Or his muttering.

“No, definitely not.”

“Are you okay?” Came a voice.

“Ah, yes!” He replied, accepting the offered hand and taking stock of the girl it belonged to. She was young. In college, likely. “Thank you, young lady!”

“Of course!” She smiled, handing him back his cane. “Do you need help getting home from here? That looked like quite a fall.”

“But don’t you have somewhere to be?” He asked.

“Just school, but I can spare a few minutes if you need…?”

“There is no need for that.” He shook his head. “I will be fine, thank you for your concern.”

Yes, he decided with a smile as he watched her go, this one will do.

_________________

Ugh, walking. Who invented such a thing? She couldn’t wait until she had a personal limo again. This was so not good for her!

Chloe continued plotting as she walked, magnanimously choosing to consider this as part of the reason for revenge instead of its own thing.

And speaking of revenge! Let’s see…

She scrunched her face, trying to remember the events of the first day of school.

There had been that fight with Marinette over her seat. ‘My seat now’, she realized with glee. ‘Which means I’ll be back next to Adrikens!’

Where she should be.

And if she and Dupain-Cheng were now supposed to be switched, that meant ‘the horrible bully Marinette’ would be picking on ‘poor sweet little Chloe’.

She couldn’t wait!

‘Let’s see how you handle being in my shoes, Dupain-Cheng!’

She giggled to herself, ignoring the weirded out looks she was getting from some passing students.

Or the way the other students in general seemed to give her a wide berth.

As they should for the real Queen Bee of this school!

She was already imagining how this was going to go. And with the classroom only a few feet ahead, her vindication was already so close she could taste it!

Except when she finally arrived at the class, it was immediately clear that something wasn’t right.

Dupain-Cheng was there as expected. With her same kiddie pigtails and her pink and grey ensemble with polka-dots—what kind of designer was she anyway?

What wasn’t expected, however, was that Cesaire was already was there as well.

Originally, Cesaire defended Dupain-Cheng and they became friends. If things played out the same, shouldn’t Cesaire be coming in late? Or standing up to Dupain-Cheng here? If anything, they already seemed to be friends.

Unless Cesaire was Dupain-Cheng’s tool like Sabrina had been for her?

It made sense that this new reality would swap more around, she reasoned.

Except…

Chloe frowned. Now that she was actually close enough to the classroom, she could see the classmates gathered into a sort of half circle around Dupain-Cheng and her follower. And as she reached the doorway, she could more clearly hear what they were saying.

“—at the Le Grand Paris.” Marinette said, gesturing to Alya with a smile.

“Wow!”

“So cool!”

“That’s awesome! So you’ve just been staying at the hotel until you can get settled in?”

Alya nodded, smiling. “Yeah. At least for a little while until we could get our own apartment. Mr. Dupain-Cheng was really accommodating. Luckily, we didn’t need it for long before Mom found something. She didn’t want to take advantage of his generosity, but it’s just really amazing that he was willing to offer us room and board just to have Mom as part of his staff!”

Chloe raised a nose in disgust.

Who ever heard of such a thing?! What hotel made any profit letting people stay for free?

“We met when I was cleaning rooms and she offered to help!” Marinette explained brightly.

Chloe nearly gagged.

Cleaned?

Marinette…actually cleaned the hotel?

Why do something that gross?

That’s what the help was for! And Sabrina.

Speaking of, where was she?

Chloe glanced around, but Sabrina was nowhere to be seen amongst the classmates.

Maybe the Wish had done more than switch her with Dupain-Cheng? Maybe Cesaire and Sabrina had been switched as well? So that meant Sabrina should be the new transfer, right?

No wait, that didn’t add up. She had just walked in on Cesaire being introduced.

Sabrina was probably just her best friend, then.

She nodded.

That was good enough, she supposed. At least if she couldn’t have her necessities from the hotel, she still had Sabrina to take care of the more mundane tasks for her.

Unaware of her thoughts, Marinette had continued talking to the others unhindered.

“—said she would be coming to Francios Dupont, and I knew I had to introduce her. She’s new, so be nice.” She instructed, giving a stare to Kim in particular. “Kim.”

The taller boy raised his hands in surrender. “Fine, fine. I’ll give her a week before any challenges.”

Alya raised an eyebrow. “Challenges? Dare I ask?”

Everyone groaned.

“No dares.” Nino begged, covering his face with his hat. “Please. Kim is bad enough every year. I still can’t look at the hotel without remembering what happened last time…”

“Yeah, your dumb dare got us banned from the hotel’s pool for a month!” Alix said, pointing at Kim, who shrugged helplessly.

“Speaking of the hotel!” Marinette cut in, pulling out her tablet. “I convinced my dad to let us do this year’s work study at the hotel.” She tapped her tablet. “I have a little bit of influence over what they’ll choose as assignments, so we can try to come up with roles everyone will like.”

“Hey yeah! That sounds awesome!”

The classmates crowded the desk, chatting excitedly.

“So where will everyone go?”

“Maybe Kim and Max in security? Or Alix and Max in security, so Kim could work the pool area.”

“As a lifeguard?” Kim asked cheerfully. “I’ve done some training, after all.”

Marinette sent him a wry look and pretended to be thinking it over. “Hmm, I don’t know. Maybe as a pool cleaner?”

Kim pouted. “No fair, Mari!”

“Hey, it would do you some good to learn the cleaning process for the pools you use so much.” Mylene said, half jokingly and half pointedly, making Kim lower his head and groan.

Marinette giggled a little. “Well at any rate, I’ve set up a list of all the different jobs at the hotel so people can mark their top preferences. Between all the options, everyone is bound to find something that’ll suit them best.”

She sent Adrien a knowing look. “And of course Adrien will be in the kitchen.”

Adrien beamed at that.

Not that Chloe noticed.

“Kitchen?!” Chloe squawked. “You’re going to make my Adrikens work in a dirty old kitchen?!”

She had known Marinette would be bad, but how dare she punish Adrikens like that? She could just see it now! Her poor Adrikens, forced to slave away in a room meant for servants like…like he was a servant! Where he could get covered in grime and burn his precious skin!

Everyone frowned at her, as if she was the one being ridiculous!

The boy in question raised his hand.

“But I want to—”

“That is a flagrant abuse of power!” Chloe shouted, slamming a hand on the desk. “She’s making Adrikens work like a maid! What if his father hears about this?!”

Adrien wilted in on himself.

“The kitchen isn’t dirty or old.” Marinette said, sounding annoyingly calm with a terseness in her tone that Chloe had heard some service workers use when dealing with particularly difficult customers—though why they used it with her was beyond her. It was as if Marinette was acting like she the reasonable one dealing with an unreasonable customer or something. “They just finished the remodeling three months ago, we clean it regularly, and all of our utensils and equipment are taken good care of.”

“That’s not the point!” Chloe shouted. “How could you use my Adrikens in such a way? Gabriel Agreste would never approve when he hears about this!”

Because he would be hearing about this! Chloe would make sure of it!

“I could just explain to Mr. Agreste that this would be for good publicity.” Marinette suggested. “I’m sure he would allow it.”

She knew it! There were really no lows she wouldn’t go to!

“You’re really pushing this! And you call yourself Adrikens’ friend!” Chloe pointed at Marinette accusingly. “Just because your Daddy’s the Mayor doesn’t mean you can treat people like they’re lesser than you!”

Marinette frowned, looking uncertain as her gaze flickered between the others.

Hah! Even in Chloe’s position, Marinette still wavered easily and she couldn’t hide her insecurities to save her life. It was why she always gave in in the end! Anyone would roll over someone showing such an obvious weakness!

Hell, she may not even need to wait to see her taken down. This was a perfect opportunity to lead everyone in rising up against her tyranny.

After a few seconds, she turned back to face Chloe, no doubt to attack her for challenging her and show her true colors—

“Chloe, are you okay?”

Huh?

“My Dad just runs the Hotel. He isn’t the Mayor.”

What?!

“My Mom is. You met her at your…” She hesitated, sending the others a glance before lowering her voice, “…meeting, remember?”

She had to bite her tongue regarding the ridiculousness of Dupain-Cheng’s mother being the Mayor. Was that woman even a French citizen?

But it was the other part of Marinette’s statement that concerned her. What meeting? What was she even getting at? Why was she trying to be quiet about it.

Nevermind! She’d worry about that later!

“It doesn’t matter!” Chloe shouted, forcing Marinette to back away. “The fact is that you can’t just throw your weight around to get your way and treat people however you like! And I’m not the only one who feels that way!” She exclaimed, turning to the classmates in expectation.

…only to get a number of blank or confused stares in response.

“Um, what are you even talking about?” Alya asked incredulously.

What?

“Yeah, dude! Marinette doesn’t treat anyone that way.” Nino added.

What?

“The only one who pulls that sort of thing is you.” Said Nathaniel bitingly.

Since when does that loser talk?

And also, what?!

“And aren’t you supposed to be leaving Marinette alone?” Alix asked, giving Chloe a pointed look.

What even was that about?

“I thought that was the agreement.” Mylene said quietly.

Seriously?! Was everyone on her side?

They were supposed to be silent! Or judging the Mayor’s brat! That’s what they did with Chloe! Instead, they were jumping to her defense!

“Are you serious?” She demanded. “Like she doesn’t abuse her power and authority to push people around!”

“Of course not!” Marinette insisted. And then to Chloe’s rage, seemed to draw herself up even more, actually looking confident and self assured in a way Chloe herself had never felt in her place. “As the daughter of the mayor, I have to set a good example.”

Ex…

Example?

What even was that?

Unaware of Chloe’s short-circuiting, she continued. “And Chloe, I wouldn’t force anyone to do a role that they don’t want. That’s why I brought the list here for the class to review first.” She gestured to her tablet. “That way everyone has a chance to pick what roles they want and we can avoid the ones no one wants to do. How is that a bad thing?”

It wasn’t, admittedly. But Marinette wasn’t supposed to be the one doing it! That was the problem!

“And who put you in charge?!” Chloe demanded of Marinette. “Why are you deciding where we’ll do the work study? What, are you using the Class Rep position to flaunt your family’s hotel?”

It would make sense. Chloe had been the Class Rep for years originally. If Marinette was her…

Marinette just gave her a strange look.

“No. I’m not Class Rep, remember?”

Chloe balked.

“What?”

“Chloe, did you hit your head?” Marinette asked, sounding worried. She held a hand out in offering. “Do you need to go to the Nurse’s Office?”

Chloe jerked away from the girl’s outreached hand. Why would Dupain-Cheng still be acting…nice?

Clearly she must still be pretending!

“Nevermind that! If you aren’t the Class Rep, then who is?”

“Your benevolent dictator is here!” Came a voice. A familiar voice. The last one Chloe expected.

“Hey, Class Rep.” Marinette said, giving Chloe a pointed look while waving to the person behind her.

Chloe turned slowly. She had to force herself to move. The strain made it feel like her bones were creaking.

Behind her, Sabrina stood tall with a tablet in hand and looking…surprisingly well for a new reality as a lackey of someone other than Chloe. She almost didn’t recognize her.

Chloe stood straight, expecting the standard greeting.

To her shock, Sabrina didn’t even look at her, instead moving past her to…

“Wow, Marinette! Nice jacket!” Sabrina said first thing in greeting as she moved over to the other girl in interest.

Marinette blushed at the praise. “Thanks! My dad got me some new fabric and I was inspired to try this style!” She gave a wink. “Now this is just a test run to see how it works out.”

“It certainly looks comfortable.” Sabrina said in awe.

Were…were they ignoring her?

“I have some of the material left.” Marinette said. “I could make you your own for your birthday if you want?”

Oh gag! Why would anyone want Marinette’s tacky creations instead of the latest in season creation?

And there was Sabrina looking like that was something to be excited about!

Oh no! Without Chloe to guide her, she had lost any sense of fashion! No matter how much fuller her hair was or how she no longer looked like a strong wind could blow her away!

Clearly, her life was a tragedy without Chloe!

“And I checked like you asked.” Marinette continued, unaware of Chloe’s glare. “My Dad said we could do the work study at his hotel.”

“Thank you!” Sabrina cheered. “That’ll be one less thing to worry about.”

“Yeah, we were talking about that when you came in.” Marinette explained.

Chloe glared pointedly at the girl over the way she was blatantly ignoring that they had been in the middle of Chloe calling her out! Seriously, what was the point of getting to tell people off for their flaws if they were going to ignore you and pretend it never happened! Really! You can’t just ignore the truth like that!

“We were discussing what positions everyone wanted.” Mylene said. “Even if we can’t get the exact ones we’d like, there’ll at least be options.”

“Juleka and I can clean the ball room!” Rose exclaimed. “It will give us a chance to check the acoustics of the room. We’ve been wondering about the effects and what to expect if our band ever plays in such an area.“

Nino looked intrigued at that. “Hey, that does sound like a good idea. Maybe sign me up for that as well?” He asked, turning to Marinette before mumbling to himself about the echo effect on his beats.

Marinette gave him a nod before turning back to Rose. “I heard you guys just started, didn’t you?“

Rose nodded, beaming. “It’s so much fun!”

Marinette smiled and marked it down on her list. “Then I’ll suggest that for you.”

She paused for a moment, hesitating in clear unwillingness to continue before giving a strained smile.

“And Chloe...”

“How about trash cleanup?” Alix snarked, giving the girl a dark look.

“Excuse you?!” Chloe shouted in outrage. “Do you know who my daddy is?!”

The looks she was given were completely unimpressed.

“A baker?”

“And not even a good one.”

"Hey, his croissants are all right."

Chloe blanched, remembering that her father wasn’t the mayor in this world.

He wasn’t even rich.

He was just a baker now. A simple ordinary not even very good baker who was barely keeping his head above water trying to maintain his business and manage his teenage daughter.

And that made Chloe…

Nothing.

Her go to tactic now had no power.

But…but Sabrina! She realized in a flash that her minion was apparently the Class Rep! She could have her back her!

But when she spun around to look, the girl had actually just abandoned her and the gathering altogether to sit next to Mylene of all people! Mylene! And they were just…chatting! Since when did those two spend time together! And why wasn’t Sabrina there for her?!

“Chloe!” Came the only voice worth listening to.

Oh, Adrikens! Of course you would always be there for her!

She spun to him in expectation. Because of course her Adrikens would be on her side! Her savior! Her only ally against such cruel tyranny—

But he didn’t look happy. Or in any way amicable to her. “Don’t forget!” He whispered sharply to her. “You’re still on probation! You can’t start another commotion before the first class of the school year has even started!”

Chloe blinked.

Pro…

Probation?

…

Her?!

“How am I on—?!”

It was impossible! She had never had a criminal record! She’d never even committed a crime! Or anything that warranted getting in trouble over!

Regardless of what Ladybug said, since she clearly had it out for her.

“Just leave Marinette alone.” Adrien whispered, turning her away from the rest of the group and…her. “Please.”

She didn’t want to. There were so many questions and so many things she wanted to demand right now. She was very well inclined to make demands regardless, because she didn’t know what was going on and she needed answers.

But it was her Adrikens asking.

And she didn’t have much chance to say anything else as Bustier had chosen that time to arrive.

“Welcome back, everyone!” The woman greeted cheerfully. Her arrival cut off all other discussion as the students made their way to their desks. “I hope everyone had a good break and that we’re all ready to start the new year.”

A chorus of affirmations followed as everyone took their seats.

Everyone except Chloe, who was glancing around the room in confusion.

None of this was right.

She had expected to fight with Marinette over her seat to get to sit behind Adrien, but he was sitting at the back next to Nathaniel. And Marinette was sitting in the mid row on the other side from him, pulling Alya to sit next to her. But if she wasn’t sitting behind Adrien, what was even the point of challenging her for her seat?

…where even was Chloe’s seat?

She would have sad next to Sabrina, but that traitor hadn’t moved from her spot next to Mylene and left no room for Chloe! And nobody else was calling Chloe over—so if someone else had taken Sabrina’s place as her best friend, she had no way of even knowing who it was!

“Chloe,” Bustier called to her, ever so gently. “Your seat is up at the front, remember? As we discussed the last time we met.” She gestured to the bench at the front.

It was across the one Chloe had sat at previously, being the front desk closest to the door. And to her frustration, there was no one sitting with her! How else was she supposed to get her assignments copied? And wasn’t that the seat that loser, Nino, had been put in because he got in trouble? Chloe wasn’t in trouble though!

Adrien’s words about probation hit her, making her wince.

…was she?

She wanted to ask. She wanted to stomp her foot and demand the answers she deserved.

But Bustier was staring at her expectantly. And she could hear some giggles and snickering from behind her the longer she waited. She glanced back to Adrikens, but…he wasn’t even looking at her! He was conversing with Nathaniel over something on his sketchbook!

How could a sketchbook be more important than his best friend?!

With little other choice, Chloe slid into the front desk, blushing furiously in humiliation and trying to ignore everyone behind her.

It didn’t matter.

None of them mattered!

None of this would matter once she got the Miraculous and put Dupain-Cheng in her place! Then everyone would know SHE was the Queen Bee!

She was sure of it!

#ml fic #chloe's lament #chloe bourgeois #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #kwami swap #plagg #be careful what you wish for #chloe is not careful #chloe is a horrible person #miracle queen

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harrywritingsbyme · 3 years

Text

A Beautiful Day

Based Off Of This Ask

And This One

A/N: So he’s backkkk and I love him so much and y/n loves him so much and I wanted them to just have their moment. I also wanted to show y’all his cute and sweet and soft side bc he does have one and I can’t deprive y’all of that. But don’t worry, it’s filthy too😌…the ending sucks but you already knew that and this is the 5th installment of Sneaking Around but you already knew that too lmao. enjoy🙃

4.5k wordss

It was Harry’s turn to pick you guys’ date. While you were all for a cozy and cuddly night in with pizza and wine watching every movie you possibly could before either breaking for sex or falling asleep(eventually it turned out to be both), Harry had other plans. He’d spent a good part of his week planning for this date day turn night for you two. He even went as far as to take off for the entire day just so that he could spend as much time as he possibly could with you. See, even though he was constantly horny and dying to touch and be inside of you, Harry was quite the romantic. He loved having those lovey dovey couple moments with you. He loved making you smile and expressing to you just how much he loved you; and that was a lot. In fact, between the two of you, he was the first person to say I love you in your relationship. He’d been in love before, but it was never fully the way he was in love with you. With this being said, Harry made sure to do the absolute most and make it all incredibly special when it came this turn of his to plan your date together. It wasn’t a day that was marked on the calendar like a birthday or anniversary, but it was a day that Harry just wanted to completely be with you and just enjoy the time that wasn’t always readily available to you both.

Now Harry wanted to make it as special and as much of a surprise as possible. So the night before, all he told you was what you should wear and when to be ready. Even though you felt so bad that your best friend had a fully loaded day of classes, you were so glad that she’d be away from home and busy all day. You didn’t want her to ask about why you were getting dressed up and stuff. It’s just that you felt really bad for keeping things from her, especially this. So when she told you that she had a packed day right after Harry texted you the time, you were able to let out a big sigh of relief. Plus she was going to spend some time with her boyfriend for the weekend anyways so you’d be able to stay away a bit longer.

After finishing up with your early and luckily your only class of the day, along with getting some other work done, you spent the rest of the morning getting ready for your date with Harry. He said that he’d be picking you up around one so you were able to relax a little bit before getting into the shower and getting ready for your date. And as you’re getting ready, you make sure to keep Harry in mind. For starters, you made sure to use the body wash that had the scent that would just cling to your skin throughout the entire day. Whenever you used it and you’d be with him, Harry went absolutely wild. He was just obsessed with the way you smelled couldn’t manage to keep himself away from you. On top of that, you gave yourself a couple sprits of your perfume which just so happened to be one of Harry’s absolute favorites on you. For some reason, Harry was obsessed with your scents. He was always fixated on how good you smelled and for some reason it just made him even more attracted to you if that was even possible. And when you combined the scent of your body wash and your perfume, you struck gold. Harry had managed to supersede this obsession and become fully and even more entranced with you than he already was. And it was all because of how good you smelled. You felt similarly about Harry and the way he never missed the mark when it came to how good he smelled but he was on a pretty different level in comparison to you.

Anyways, aside from making sure you smelled heavenly for him, you spent a good bit of time figuring out what to wear. Since Harry told you to wear something that was pretty but not fancy the night before, when you were getting ready you pretty much raided your mini collection of dresses that were hanging up in your closet. It took you a while and a few times of nearly giving up to find the perfect outfit for your date. When you made it to the dress, you were absolutely floored when you looked at yourself in the mirror. You almost forgot that you even had this in your closet and you were so thankful you didn’t because it looked amazing on you.

When you put it on, it fit your body like a glove. The dress was a pretty and soft pastel yellow color that looked amazing against your skin and fell perfectly right below your knee. The skirt of the dress also moved right along with your movements which made you love it even more. You truly felt like a princess in this dress. Along with the color and impeccable overall style of the dress, there was one other thing that completely sold you on this one. It had more of a lower cleavage. The dress was a bit low cut in the front which allowed for you to give Harry a good view of his favorite part of your body. His number one would always be between your legs, but your chest was a very close second. He’d try to be all gentlemanly and say your heart but you always called bullshit on that one. Anyways, to take full advantage of the low cut front of your dress you make sure to properly adjust and lift your “chest” to give Harry the cleavage he’s constantly craving. You were certain that once he saw you, his mind would be racing.

By the time the clock struck one, you were all dressed, your hair and makeup was all done, and you were able to immediately answer the door when Harry knocked. When you opened the door, Harry was completely floored by your appearance. As the door in front of him opened to reveal you, Harry’s emotions and facial expressions did a quick 180. At first he was all happy and excited to see you. But once he did, he became even more excited, but for other reasons. He couldn’t stop his jaw from dropping at the sight of you. You looked absolutely stunning, Harry was in complete awe. He was so entranced with you that you had to snap him out of it, causing him to get all blushy and cute. After bringing him back to earth, he quickly gave you the small bouquet of flowers that coincidentally matched your dress perfectly along with a kiss to the cheek before whisking you out of your apartment and to the car.

During the ride to the undisclosed date location, Harry had to continuously refuse to tell you where he was taking you two for your date. No matter how much you pouted or tried to tease him, Harry wouldn’t let up. He wanted to keep this a surprise so bad and he refused to give in to his weakness; you. It was so hard to keep it all in but Harry was determined to do so. Luckily for him, the fight to keep his plans under wraps subsided a bit after about twenty minuets into the drive. After seeing that you weren’t getting anywhere with Harry spilling the beans, you decided to just sit back and enjoy Harry and the ride. You figured that he had a big surprise or something and you didn’t want to ruin it, so you just decided just wait and see what he had in store for the two of you. For the next twenty or so minutes that were left in the ride, the two of you sat next to each other and just talked. While the two of you went on and on about any and everything, you subconsciously toyed with Harry’s fingers that are intertwined with yours, giving you something else to do while you itched with excitement to see where Harry was taking you two as the drive continued on.

Eventually the car comes to a to a stop, signaling to you that you’d reached your destination. When you took in your surroundings and listened to what Harry had planned for you date, you couldn’t have been happier. Harry had driven you two to the most beautiful and the most romantic spots you’d ever seen to have a relaxing and incredibly romantic picnic together. It was absolutely perfect. It was tucked away from the masses but it wasn’t too far to make it uncomfortably distant. Again, it was perfect. After grabbing the pretty sizable picnic basket and blanket that he’d stashed away in the trunk, Harry grabs his hand in yours and the two of you walk down to the beautiful expanse before you to pick out the perfect spot to set up. After playfully bickering about where to settle down, you and Harry eventually agree on a spot before spreading the blanket out on the ground and unpacking the basket. As you help him take the food out, you realize that it’s everything he knew you loved. From the wine that you became obsessed with not too long after you two started dating to your favorite foods and little snacks, it was all in that basket.

After giving him a big hug, a series of many thank you’s, and a series of even more kisses, the two of you finally dig into the food Harry packed and pick up where your conversation in the car left off. The two of you blissfully sat on the blanket enjoying what Harry so perfectly organized and enjoying your time together. It was so nice to just sit there with the man you loved and enjoy your relationship and the stunning scenery around you. Seeing your face light up as you spoke to him and enjoyed the date he’d put together made his heart completely melt and made him feel extremely proud of himself. Eventually the two of you decided to call it quits on the food so you quickly packed up everything that was leftover back into the basket, leaving the two of you more room on the blanket to relax. After a little while though, a peaceful and comfortable lull fell over you and Harry. Leaving you both quiet in each other’s presence.

As the two of you silently sat there, Harry’s mind began to wander. He couldn’t stop the filthy visuals and ideas of the two of you from flowing through his mind. For some reason, the idea of just taking you right there in the broad daylight plagued his mind. The entire concept was nothing short of captivating to him given the fact that the two of you had to be so private with your relationship all of the time. Even though the two of you had to keep your plans for today under wraps, pleasuring you in such an open yet incredibly secluded space would break the monotony of being so private 24/7. It didn’t help that you looked absolutely beautiful today, and were just inadvertently begging him to touch you and make you feel good.

Now this is the moment when you can really see Harry’s duality and capabilities when it comes to taking a beautiful and beyond romantic moment, and turning it into a lust and pleasure filled rendezvous.

“Is it wrong that I want to do the filthiest things to you all because you look so beautiful.” He huffs, breaking the silence and trying to control the urge to just flip your skirt up and cram his cock into the depths of your cunt until the two of you just fall apart around one another.

“Oh my goodness Harry.” You softly laugh, completely bashful at the sudden compliment/admission. You also squeeze your thighs shut a bit because his words were a definite shock to your core.

“M’so serious Y/n.” He deadpans, moving in closer to you and bringing his hand up to your covered thigh.

“What would you do?” You whisper, changing the entire mood for the rest of your time together.

“Well for starters I’d dig into these beauties.” He begins, motioning right down to your breasts that were perfectly positioned by you to make them almost spill out of your dress. “They’re just so perfect. Just love playin’ with them. Can’t wait t’play with them when I knock you up. Gonna be so much bigger and even more sensitive f’me.” He fantasizes, continuing to stare at your breasts in front of him. Salivating at the idea of your entire body swelling because of him, thinking about how your body would become even more enticing and addictive. “You do know I’m gonna get you pregnant right?” He says in complete seriousness, bringing his eyes up to yours for reassurance.

“Mhm.” You hum with a small smile. “You remind me of it all the time even though I’m still in college, we’re not married, and our relationship isn’t even out in the open yet.” You pointedly remind him through chuckle.

“Well I’m sorry that my girlfriend, the love of my life, makes me want all of those things.” He playfully huffs, rolling his eyes in the process.

“Well luckily for you, I want all of that too.” You remind him, pushing your head forward to close the gap between you two and press a kiss to his lips. It was supposed to be a short and sweet little kiss to tell him that you loved him and that you wanted a future with him. But you wouldn’t be a relationship with Harry if he didn’t take it to another level, before you could realize what was going on, Harry had slipped his tongue into your mouth. As he kissed you deeper he lays you back against the blanket behind you, hovering over your body to continue moving his mouth against (and inside) yours. After gliding his tongue against yours and smacking his lips against your pillow soft ones, Harry finally lets up and lifts himself up from you. With you continuing to lie on the blanket, Harry sits down near your head and beckons for you to lift yourself a bit so that you could rest your head in his lap. “What would you do next?” You ask, wanting him to continue on and tell you all of the things he’d do to you.

“The next thing I’d do after playing with these tits of yours would be playing with your pussy.” He says, bringing the hand that was cupping you side down your thigh. He then brings his hand down to your knee before pushing it back up, only this time pushing it up underneath your dress. “You’d go crazy for how good my fingers feel inside of you. You’d just go on and on about how they’re hitting your sweet spot and how bad you need my cock.” He continues, slowly pushing his hand up between your legs. When he gets to the coveted area, Harry immediately feels around for your panties but is quick to learn that you’re not even wearing any. “No panties?” He asks, pulling the bottom of your dress up to get a look at you. He then turns his focus down between your legs to see your bare and plushy mound completely exposed to him.

“No.” You whisper, maintaining eye contact.

“You didn’t want to wear one those cute little thongs that always get swallowed up by your cunt an ass baby? My naughty girl!” He asks, thinking back to the times where he’s either pulled your pants down or lifted your skirt to find a thin piece of string pretty much, lodged between your folds and ass.

“I just wanted to breathe a little bit down there since I shaved and all.” You softly explain, pushing down the moan that was threatening to spill from your lips as you feel Harry squeeze your cunt in his larger hand.

“So pretty when you go all bare f’me sweets.” He admires, taking in how soft and squishy the area between your legs is. Absolutely perfect for eating and taking his cock. “I just hope you made the right decision with not wearing any panties at all baby. Don’t want you to get all that sticky cum on your pretty dress or on my seats.” He explains. Every single time he let go inside of you, Harry made a mess.

“Is that what you’d do next?” You huff, enjoying the way he’s massaging the area between your legs while telling you all of the filthy things he’d do. You could feel yourself becoming wetter and wetter as this continued on. If you had to be completely honest, it wouldn’t be much longer before you’re begging him to fuck you.

“Mhm.” He hums, giving your cheek a little pinch with his free hand. “ I just don’t know how I’d do it. I love watching you struggle and quiver while you to take all my cock, but I also love pinning you down and making you completely helpless.” He explains candidly.

“Maybe you could do it both ways.” You suggest through a moan. As you say this, you begin to buck up into Harry’s hand, signaling to him that you wanted more of what he’s doing.

“You want me t’wreck you two ways baby?” He asks, amusedly watching your eyes flutter shut below him as you enjoy his hand moving around on your cunt.

“So bad.” You moan.

“There would be so much cum too. Like you’d be overflowing with my creamy and sticky cum.” He continues, beginning to drag a finger up and down your slick folds. “When you think that you’ve pushed it all out, there will still be some in your tummy.”

As he says all of this, Harry’s cock is rock solid in his pants. With every word there was a vivid visual in his head and the desire to take and just ravish you right here right now was growing exponentially as he kept fantasizing with you.

“Sounds amazing.” You pant, continuing to buck up into his hand.

“Want me t’do that to you sweet girl?” He coos down to you removing his hand from your cheek and bringing it to the large bump in his pants.

“Please!” You whine.

“Then let’s go.” He agrees, immediately beginning to undo his belt. As he does this though, you move to get up from where you were lying. When you do this, Harry is quick to pull you back to where you were.

“We’re doing this right here baby.” He chuckles, continuing on with undoing his pants to release his cock.

“I don’t know about that Harry. We’re out in the open.” You express concernedly.

“I mean your filthy little cunt is already out, I don’t think me fucking my cock into it will make much of a difference Y/n.” He reasons with you, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Well what if someone comes?” You ask worriedly.

“The only people who are coming around here is me and you. Plus isn’t the thrill what makes it fun? If I remember correctly, you came really hard when I fucked you in that sex shop.” He continues, reminiscing on your other out in the open “excursions”.

“I guess you’re right. What about the car?” You propose.

“I need space for what I want to do to you. Plus you’re a squirter and I don’t want cum or your juices all over my seats. ” He replies bluntly.

“Fine, I just need you so bad.” You concede, whining out for him to fulfill his promises and bucking up into his hand.

“That’s it sweetheart.” He breathes out, finally pulling himself from his pants and giving his shaft a couple tugs. “Now suck on me, need t’get nice and wet for that tight cunt of yours.” He instructs. When he says this, your head turns right to his hardened cock. You’re instantly met with his large cock. Even though you’d taken him many times, it was still a bit daunting to see all of him before he pushes all of it into you.

“S’so big.” You admire, continuing to moan as Harry pushes a finger into you.

“And it can be all the way inside of your tummy if you just slobber on it for a bit.” Harry reminds. When he says this, you inch your mouth forward, taking the thick crown of him into your mouth. “Thats it baby, keep going.” He encourages, removing his hand from his cock and bringing it to the back of your head to push your mouth down further. As he does this, you begin to gag a bit. You were already panting from him fingering you, now to have his cock down your throat was making it even more difficult to breathe. “Just need you to slobber on it one good time sweets, just one good time f’me.” He reassures, continuing to push down on the back of your head. Eventually you manage to take all of him in your mouth and down your throat, your nose rubbing against the hairs that were surrounding his cock. When you’ve fully taken him and have held it there for a couple seconds, Harry pulls you off his cock, leaving you in a fit of pants as you try to catch your breath.

“Can I have your cock now?” You ask through your labored breaths, feeling the pressure between your legs beginning to mount even more.

“Yes you can doll.” He says, removing his hand from between your legs and using both to lift your body up from his legs. Before he lays you back down on to the blanket though, he unzips the back of your dress a bit just to loosen the top half up a bit.

He then lays you back onto the blanket and moves down between your spread and a little shaky legs. Before just going right in, Harry reaches up and tugs on the loose top of your dress, pulling it down to reveal your breasts to him. Latching onto one of them and using his other hand to push his pants down a bit more and guide his cock, Harry positions himself at your entrance. When you feel him against you, your hips immediately move up, pushing your cunt back and forth against him.

“Do you wanna get fucked or not?!” He asks sternly, immediately bringing all of your movements to a halt. “Okay then.” He huffs, going back to pushing his throbbing crown against your entrance. Wasting no time whatsoever, Harry pushes into you, sending a piercing sensation through your body.

‘Fuck Harry!” You shout as you try and push him back, feeling his large cock invade your body.

“That’s it baby, I love it when you try and fight my cock. Looks cute.” He chuckles down at you cynically, watching as your face tightens and contorts as you try to stop him from going all the way inside. Your efforts to stop him or push him away are futile because in seconds he’s all the way inside of you. And instead of giving you any time to adjust, he just goes right into pounding you. His hips are moving at lightning speed, slamming himself in and out of your cunt while you whimper and whine and squirm below him. You could feel him pounding at your insides as he relentlessly fucked you. And it felt amazing. The pain and pleasure elements of it all were perfectly balanced leaving you feeling absolutely amazing and in a completely euphoric trance below Harry. As he continues to slam into you, Harry watches as your legs shake from the force of his thrusts. He can see your breasts moving around on your chest from the force as well. They looked so good that he could help but to suck on them. So continuing to crash his hips into yours, he leans down and sucks one of your nipples into his mouth, keeping the other between his fore and index fingers. They were so nice to just suck on as he fucked his cock into your sopping wet and desperate cunt. Harry too was in a completely euphoric state of mind.

After switching over to the other breast and sucking on it for a little while, Harry felt like it was time to switch it up a little. He wanted to get at least one more position in before you were screaming and squirting all over him while he dumped a big load of his cum into you. So without any warning, Harry pulls his cock out of you and pushes you over onto your front. He is quick to push you down and mount you from behind so to speak. He sits on the backs of your thighs, pinning your lower body down and he cups your shoulder, applying pressure by leaning forward a bit to send you a subliminal message to stay down. And before you know it, he’s cramming himself back into your pussy, going right back to the same pattern of his original thrusts.

All you could do was whine and claw at the blanket below you. It felt so good to be pinned down and fucked hard by Harry. The way he just did what he wanted was so good and you could feel your release barreling towards you full speed ahead. After getting some good thrusts in from behind, making sure that you weren’t going to be trying to get up, Harry removes his hand from your shoulder and brings both to either side of your ass before pulling you apart. When Harry sees this, he just looses it. His cock looked so huge as he fucked your tight cunt, he could only imagine how it felt to be stretched out like that. He continues to watch as his glistening cock moves in and out of you, quickly pushing him towards his big and much needed release.

“I wanna hear you beg me to cum in your cunt.” He leans down and growls into your ear, continuing to slam his hips into yours, shoving his cock all the way up into you.

“I need you t’cum inside me.” You cry, feeling the warm, tight, and throbbing sensation intensifying more and more as the seconds pass by.

“Wanna be filled with me baby?” He grunts, continuing to fiercely hump you from behind.

“So bad! M’gonna cum!” You cry out, feeling like you could explode into a million tiny pieces at any moment.

“Cum with me sweets!” He pants, delivering more static and firm blows to your from behind. Keeping his eyes on his cock inside of you, Harry gives you both one more thrust that fires you both over the edge and into your releases.

The part of your legs that weren’t pinned down by Harry were shaking as you squirted all over Harry, the blanket, and your dress. Harry too let go of everything he had, letting go of all the cum that was stored up in his balls and ready to be released into you.

It was truly a beautiful day.

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pillage-and-lute · 3 years

Note

(For next time you’re looking for prompts) I really like your writing, and when I thought of this I wondered what you’d do with it: Geralt and Jaskier are together, but agree to pretend not to be for their next stop. Maybe one of them wants to win an old bet, or Jaskier’s not 100% sure his betrothal to a local noble has been officially dissolved, whatever, (not homophobia), fluff and high jinx ensue. Anyway I hope something unexpectedly nice happens to you today.

Hi Dahliavandare! Thanks for the blessing in my inbox 🥰

This ran away from me, tons of backstory about Jaskier’s family. Just, way too much.

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“Geralt, darling,” Jaskier said hesitantly. “I have an errand we need to run, and I’m not sure you’ll like it.”

Geralt hummed noncommittally. They were resting at their camp outside of Hagge and the warm summer air and the feeling of Jaskier curled against him had lulled him into a warm, fuzzy stupor.

“You see,” Jaskier continued, fiddling with the buttons at his cuffs. “I’m a noble, and you know that of course.” He laughed awkwardly. “And I’ve been lucky enough to pawn most of those responsibilities off onto my much savvier sister, but there are certain niceties that landed families observe that--”

“Spit it out,” Geralt grumbled, although not bad naturedly.

“I’m betrothed,” Jaskier said. “And we need to go to Gwendeith to break it off.”

Geralt turned to look at his beloved. “You’re engaged?”

“Betrothed!” Jaskier yelped, then saw Geralt’s expression. “Oh, dear heart, there’s a slight difference in meaning, especially to nobles. Engaged implies an intent to marry--”

“And betrothed doesn’t?”

“Well, sort of, but I’ve been betrothed practically since I was born, engaged would imply I’m sort of planning the wedding. It’s a contract, a social contract. My family and my betrothed’s are pretty minor nobles, so really it’s just a way of saying ‘maybe someday our kids could marry’. It isn’t the hard and fast marriage it might be if I were, say, a prince.”

“Then why do it?” Geralt asked. Most of the time he was happy to understand as little of the lives of the gentry as possible, but Jaskier was important.

“Honestly,” Jaskier sighed. “I think Papa arranged it because he cared for me, Mama too.”

“It takes away your choice,” Geralt began.

“It doesn’t. A betrothal like mine and... Iliana, that’s her name, only met her twice, it’s sort of social insurance. Especially for her, but for me as well. Nobles are supposed to marry, so, if at some point neither of us had found love we could marry one another. For Iliana there’s the security of having a husband, although from what I’ve heard she can handle herself fine, and for me its assurance of heirs if that sort of thing concerned me, and companionship for us both.”

It sounded...mostly sort of logical to Geralt.

“But I love you,” Jaskier said. “And I don’t want to be betrothed to anyone because I love you and, someday, whenever you get over you allergy to the concept of commitment, I’m going to put a ring on you.”

Geralt hummed gruffly but said nothing. There was a slim golden band hidden away in his bags and he be damned if Jaskier got to propose first.

“I will. Anyway, I need to tell Iliana. I’m sure she won’t mind. I met her once when I was seven and again when I was nineteen.”

“Nineteen, when?” Geralt asked. Most of Jaskier’s nineteenth year had been spent at Geralt’s side. Most of every year after that too.

“Just before I met you. I had travelled east to meet her originally, and was going back west when we met.”

“Tell me about her?”

“Illiana? Oh, well, she told me that she was fine leaving the betrothal in place because it’s standard, but that she doesn’t care for men in that way so she’d never give me heirs and would have my balls nailed above her door if I ever told her she had to.”

“Sounds like she’d get along with Yen.”

“I fear they’d take over the world,” Jaskier said. “Anyway, I told her no worries since, honestly, heirs just aren’t important to me. Then we agreed that when either of us found love we’d break the betrothal and that would be that.”

“Hmmm.”

“No, Geralt, tell me what that means. Is that a ‘okay, let’s go to Gwendeith’ hum? A ‘I’m angry that you’re betrothed’ hum?”

Geralt shifted to poke the fire. “It’s a ‘I think there’s more you need to tell me’ hum.”

“Ah,” Jaskier rubbed the back of his neck. “That’s the thing. We have to go in person because a letter would be rude, but also...we have to pretend not to be together, while we’re in Gwedeith.”

“Why?”

“It’s politics, dear heart. It would be shaming to Iliana, socially. Personally, I don’t think she’d care, but it’s a courtesy thing.”

“I don’t do a lot of lovey stuff anyway,” Geralt said.

“You think you don’t,” Jaskier said. He began to unroll their bedroll.

“What do you mean, Jaskier?”

Jaskier turned to him, smiling indulgently and gilded in the firelight. “Our lives have molded around one another, my love. When I stand beside you your hand goes to my back or my shoulder. You order dinner for me because you know just what food I like. When I’m tired you don’t have to ask what’s wrong, you just lift me onto Roach behind you.”

Geralt hadn’t even realized he did, but he knew it was true. Jaskier leaned over and pressed a kiss to Geralt’s slightly furrowed brow.

“When my boots are wearing thin you buy me new ones before I even notice. When I’m cold you give me your cloak. If I fall asleep with my head on your shoulder you’d rather sit like that all night than disturb me.”

Geralt shrugged awkwardly. “You buy me beeswax,” he said. It seemed a fair retort. Jaskier bought him beeswax to put in his ears when cities or sometimes monsters were too loud for Geralt’s senses. “You only buy light scents, even though I know you like bolder perfumes.”

“Yes,” Jaskier said, taking one of Geralt’s large, scarred hands. “We love eachother very much, and it’s obvious to people who care to look.”

“That could be dangerous,” Geralt began, his head spiralling towards worry for Jaskier’s safety, but Jaskier cut him off.

“No, dear heart. It’s obvious to those who care to look. The sort of people who would hurt me for loving you, well, most of them think you can’t love, so they don’t look for love, and they don’t see.”

Geralt sat back. People saw what they expected to see, it was true.

“We’ll travel to Gwendeith,” he said. “And unbetroth you.”

Jaskier kissed him and his lips tasted like the jerky they’d eaten for supper.

-- -- -- -- -- --

The trip to Gwendeith was long. It was at the very edge of any map, past Posada to the east, tucked into the Blue mountains. They traveled along the Dyfne river, taking the occasional contract but making good time. This far from anything, there were few people to be troubled by monsters.

They stopped in Posada one night, eating dinner in the corner of a familiar tavern. This time, however, Jaskier was much better received and the bread ended up on the table rather than down his trousers.

Past Posada, and almost to the end of the Dyfne river, Geralt asked, “Why did your parents pick Iliana? How did they know of her?” Lettenhove was entirely the other side of the continent, a tiny island off the coast of Poviss with two villages and a couple flocks of sheep.

Geralt only knew of it from Jaskier’s descriptions, which were mostly stories of the ice cold sea and rocky cliffs. He tended toward calling it ‘idyllic’ and ‘picturesque’ altough occassionally ‘the arse end of the world’ and ‘colder than an ice giant’s ballsack.’ The first time Geralt had taken Jaskier to Kaer Morhen he’d feared for his bard’s safety in the cold of the mountains, but Jaskier hadn’t even blinked an eye, merely bundling up in a hugely wooly cloak and mittens.

“Ah, well,” Jaskier said. “Long story, but Papa was in Temeria, see, since nothing ever happens in Lettenhove, because we have more people than sheep, he get’s sent on diplomatic missions a lot. He’s good at it, and he can be spared. He loves it too, even though he’s sort of retired he still does them. Takes Ma, calls the trips his little “sunshine vacations”.

“You get your personality from your father, then?” Geralt asked. Jaskier didn’t talk about his family much, and Geralt got the sense that, rather than this being because they were horrible, Jaskier simply missed them too much.

“Definitely. Ma’s lovely, and brilliant with just everything to do with her hands, but she’s not good with people. I got her looks, though.”

“I should thank her, then,” Geralt said, smiling.

Jaskier chuckled. “Yes, she’s the reason for the long lives, too, fantastic story.”

“Finish the one about your father and Gwendeith first.”

“Right, so Papa was in Temeria, and so was Iliana’s father, sort of the mayor of Gwendeith, as I understand, although not back then. He’d gotten robbed, though, and Papa had won a horse and quite a lot of gold in a card game. It might have been Gwent, I can’t remember. If you ever meet Papa you should ask him. Anyway, he gave the extra horse and gold to Iliana’s father.”

“So your betrothal was a debt?”

“Goodness, no. This was years before I was born, Papa hadn’t even met Ma yet. No, they struck up a friendship, because when Iliana’s father got home he had a mage send a message to Papa to thank him and they struck up a friendship.”

“Sending messages by mage? That’s expensive for a penpal.”

“Ah well, that actually ties in to the story about Ma. Ma’s got magic, just a little, she’s a hedge witch of a sort. The issue is, hedge witches mostly use plants, and Ma couldn’t grow grass, so she mostly works with wood. Anyway, she has a friend, her very best friend, is a mage. They grew up together, and my Auntie Szarlotta sent my Papa’s first few messages back to Iliana’s father.”

Geralt smiled atop Roach. Jaskier’s storytelling pace was as familiar as Roach’s saddle, and it was calming in a way.

“So, Auntie was sending Papa’s message when Ma came in to visit. That’s how she met Papa, because she’d only just moved to Lettenhove. Auntie says it was love at first sight, but Papa insists that Ma turned up her nose and ignored him for months.”

“Which one is it?”

“Knowing Ma, probably both. She’s a little like you, so the second she realized she liked Papa she ignored him so she wouldn’t have to deal with it.”

Geralt huffed good-naturedly.

“Anyway, Auntie Szarlotta agreed to send Papa’s messages for free, and she even included a way for Iliana’s father to send them back, so long as he wrote his response on the back of the same paper. She always timed it though, so that Ma was over when Papa was there. And I guess the rest is history.”

“Except the immortality.”

“Right, well, Ma got really sick when she was pregnant with my sister, I was little so I barely remember but Papa was so worried, and Ma looked really pale. Well, Auntie got really worried, freaked out a little, and she found all these old spells to try to make Ma well again. I remeber the light, she was working in a room of the old lighthouse and I could see the light of her spells from my window. Anyway, eventually she tries some on Ma, but they don’t work, and she just keeps trying.”

Geralt had an image of a frantic sorceress being watched by a young Jaskier through a crack in a door.

“But I suppose some of those old spells need a little time to work because nothing at all worked and then they all sort of worked at once. There was this big, bright light and then Ma was well, and she and Papa haven’t aged a day since then.”

Geralt glanced at his lover, who looked the same at fifty as he had at twenty. “And you don’t age? What about your sister?”

“Ksenia hasn’t aged either. She looks like Papa, just so you know, grey eyes, blonde hair. She’s got two kids, now, but I haven’t met them.”

“Do the kids age?”

“Right now they’re very young,” Jaskier said. “I didn’t stop aging until nineteen or twenty, so I suppose we’ll have to wait and see.”

“How do you know she has kids?”

“Oh, well, Auntie Szarlotta sends letters to me, but we travel and it’s hard to send them right to me, so I just pick them up at Oxenfurt.”

“Hmmm,” Geralt said. He needed to go to Lettenhove. Jaskier had met his sort-of-family, he should meet Jaskier’s.

“I’d love to go see them...” Jaskier said, wistfully.

“Who?”

“My niece and nephew, they’re almost two and three years old now.”

Geralt picked Jaskier up by the collar of his doublet and placed him onto the back of Roach.

“We’ll spend the winter in Lettenhove this year,” he said as Jaskier wrapped his arms around Geralt’s waist.

“Really?”

“Hmmm.”

Geralt needed to ask Jaskier’s father for his hand in marriage, anyway.

-- -- -- -- -- --

They made it to Gwendeith just after mid summer, riding into the little town at noon. Despite the season, the little mountain valley was shaded and cool. Jaskier shivered slightly and Geralt had to resist the urge to pull his cloak from his pack. From that point forth, they weren’t supposed to be in love.

Fuck.

They had to request a meeting with the mayor, which didn’t surprise Geralt. In a town such as this, logging and mining were the main industries. Trading for food to last over the winter began early and was of the utmost importance. That left Geralt and Jaskier, unfortunately, sitting with a man who introduced himself as Sir Boris.

Apparently he was a retired knight who acted as a sort of captain of the guard, except there wasn’t much of a guard. His wife Lady Olenka joined them and the two of them talked about their grandchildren until Geralt could feel his eyes rolling back in his head.

At any other time, Jaskier would have placed one gentle hand on his wrist, which would have fortified Geralt, but they couldn’t.

“But you’re here for Iliana,” Sir Boris was saying. “Dreadfully sorry you can’t see her today, I’m afraid there’s been an issue with the lumber trade to sort out. You’ll just have to have my darling Lenka and I as company until that’s done.”

He sent a huge wink to his wife, a slim, elegant woman, who chuckled and playfully hit him on the shoulder, to which Sir Boris pretended to be wounded before throwing back his head and laughing hugely. Everything the old knight did was huge, he was a large man with a round, red face and large belly and a laugh that could shake walls.

“It’s no trouble,” Jaskier said. “I’m sure preparing for winter is a year round project here.”

“Oh of course,” Lady Olenka said. “But once it’s here we can all relax, and spend time with family.” She leaned forward as if imparting a delightful secret and said in a stage-whisper, “Boris has been our town’s Father Winter for the last four years.”

Jaskier made impressed ‘ooh’ noises and Geralt tried to at least look like he understood that.

Boris laughed again. “It’s this lot,” he said, slapping his round stomach. “Better than some old geezer with a pillow down his shirt, eh?”

Geralt hummed in agreement.

“And you must make a lovely Mother Winter, Lady Olenka,” Jaskier said politely.

She smiled, lines crinkling around her eyes as if drawing a road map. “It’s not as important as Father Winter, of course, but I rather pride myself that I plan a very good Midwinter festival.” Geralt got the sense that behind the modesty she was quite proud, and, he suspected, with good reason.

“But, you must tell me,” she said, modestly changing the subject. “Is there to be a missus Pankratz, now that you’ve come to see Lady Iliana?”

“I am a man in love,” Jaskier said. “And I am hopeful that an engagement will come soon, yes.”

“Oh dearie that’s just lovely,” Lady Olenka said, patting Jaskier’s cheek. “And you’re such a nice boy too, little young looking to be betrothed to our Lady Iliana anyway, although she’s a very dear woman.”

“We just love her,” Sir Boris said. “She’s a great mayor, not keen on marriage, but nobody minds, she just seems to have adopted the whole town as family.”

Lady Olenka patted her husband’s broad shoulder. “It was smart of you not to bring your love here, though. There’s some nobles here from Lyria, that’s who she’s been trading with, and I think they’d like any excuse to disparage here.” She lowered her voice again. “You know how those lot are about having women in charge.”

“I can’t relate,” Sir Boris laughed. “Lenka’s the ruler in our house.” That got a laugh because it had to, and because Sir Boris’s laugh was surprisingly infectious.

“Good on you bringing a bodyguard too,” he said once the laughter had abated. He slapped Geralt companionably on the back, which was like being hit by a friendly battering ram. “Witcher too, don’t get many up here, but I bet you’re the safest man in a hundred miles.”

“Oh, dear, don’t you know?” Lady Olenka said. “Lord Julian here is a bard as well, he goes by Jaskier and sings all about witchers.”

“Really?” Sir Boris said, looking at Jaskier. “Blimey, imagine that. Good on you, finding a niche in the market.”

Geralt’s ears were beginning to ache. Friendly though Sir Boris might be, he didn’t seem to have a volume level below ‘deafening’. He was tired and overwrought and he just wanted to cuddle up with Jaskier in a bed. It wasn’t even suppertime, though.

They sat through another hour of hearing about Boris and Olenka’s eighteen grandchildren.

“And three great-grandchildren,” Boris added proudly.

Geralt was thankful Jaskier could carry the conversation. He longed for a kiss, though. Now that he knew he couldn’t have one, his lips fairly ached for one.

Supper was a large affair, with one of Boris and Olenka’s children’s family over for dinner as well. Geralt was seated across from Jaskier between two small children who, apparently, needed to be separated at dinertimes to prevent bickering. They contented themselves instead by asking Geralt every question they could think of, often making him wrack his brain for child appropriate answers.

It wasn’t just witchering questions, either. He answered such questions as “Why is the sky blue?” (Because it’s Melitele’s favorite color). Immediately before answering “How big are dragon scales?” (The small ones are like pebbles and the big ones are like shields.)

Jaskier smiled at him over his bowl of stew, eyes sparkling. Geralt loved children, and Jaskier loved seeing them adore Geralt.

“So, Lord Julian,” Boris and Olenka’s daughter began. “Your lady love, tell us about her?” She smiled Lady Olenka’s warm smile and Jaskier did a good show of seeming bashful.

“My love is unlike any other,” he began. “And if you’ll pardon my saying so, I’m a poet, and so must wax poetic.”

“Wouldn’t settle for anything less, lad!” Boris bellowed cheefully.

“My darling has fair hair, like moonlight,” Jaskier said, and the table oohed appreciatively. Geralt felt his ears get hot.

“And eyes like summer,” the bard continued. “I could get lost in them. No eyes could compare.” Geralt kicked him under the table, but Olenka was sighing sympathetically.

“But of course,” Jaskier said slyly, my heart is best held by my love’s lips.”

Boris chuckled knowingly. “I’ll bet it is, my boy,” he said, winking. Olenka slapped his arm, but she was smiling. Geralt felt hot.

“I’m afraid, however that my lover is quite modest, and won’t appreciate me extolling too many virtues,” Jaskier finished. “So I must finish with, I love them very much, and it is for them alone that my heart beats.”

Therewith leaving every person at the table (those above the age of twelve, at least) with misty eyes, Jaskier helped Lady Olenka clean up supper. Geralt helped put the dishes away.

After dinner they were led back to the mayor’s house. “I’m afraid the negotiations don’t seem to be finished,” Lady Olenka said. “I had hoped they would be quick, but it seems not. If the issue wasn’t resolved today, I wouldn’t bet on them being resolved too early tomorrow, either. You two don’t have pressing business elsewhere?”

“No, my lady,” Jaskier said, although if they lingered too long they wouldn’t make it to Lettenhove for the winter, as it was, it would be close.

“I’m sure she’ll be able to see you soon,” the lady said. “Here’s your room, and Master Witcher, your room is just at the far end of the hall.”

She said goodnight and Geralt hoped she couldn’t see the slump of his shoulders.

Separate rooms.

Jaskier smiled ruefully at him and they parted for the night. Geralt’s bed was large and comfortable, with clean linens and feather pillows, but he barely got a wink of sleep.

-- -- -- -- -- --

The next morning found Jaskier and Geralt breakfasting in the tavern, owned, apparently, by another of Boris and Olenka’s grown children.

“Did you sleep well?” Jaskier whispered over a plate of sausage and eggs.

“Fine,” Geralt grunted.

“I couldn’t sleep a wink,” Jaskier said. “Want my last piece of bacon? I’m stuffed.”

Geralt took it gratefully, slipping Jaskier his fried slice as a trade. No matter how Jaskier protested that he was stuffed, he always had room for a fried slice.”

“Terrible woman,” said a nasal voice at the next table. “Just impossible to do business with.”

“I agree, overemotional, you know how they get,” agreed another voice. Jaskier made eye contact with Geralt. The accent was Lyrian.

“Not even married,” said the first speaker. “What a disgrace. If my daughter got to her age without children I’d just die of shame.”

Geralt pitied his daughter.

“Oh of course,” said the second man. “Attractive, though, for an old maid.”

The first man snickered cruelly. “Thinking a little wooing might soften her up?”

“It always does, women like that, they’re just angry because they haven’t found a man.”

“Won’t your wife mind?”

“Are you going to tell her?” Both men laughed unpleasantly.

A serving girl, maybe sixteen or seventeen, came around the tables, presumably one of Sir Boris’ many granddaughters. She took their plates onto a tray and smiled when Jaskier slipped a few coins onto the tray as a tip.

At the next table one of the Lyrian’s snapped their fingers impatiently. The girl rolled her eyes. Geralt was pleased to see that, although she served him professionally, as she walked away she ‘accidentally’ tread on his foot.

“What pathetic pieces of shit, the pair of them,” Jaskier said as they stepped out into the sunlight.

“Hmmm,” Geralt agreed. Then he looked around quickly and pulled Jaskier into an alleyway, urging the bard deeper into the shadows.

“What? Geralt di-”

Geralt smushed his lips gracelessly to Jaskier’s, crowding him up against the wall. Jaskier’s hair between his fingers was so familiar and comforting, as was the little sigh Jaskier let out.

They pulled apart and Geralt rested his forehead against Jaskier’s. “That’ll tide me over for a while,” he whispered. Jaskier smiled.

“Are you master Julian?”

The pair sprang apart, looking in alarm at the red headed boy at the far end of the alley.

“Yes...?” Jaskier said.

“Only, Pa said to come find you, and he said you’d be with a big man dressed all in black.”

“And you found us here?” Jaskier asked.

“Didn’t know you’d be here, did I?” Said the boy, stuffing his hands into his trouser pockets. “It’s the shortcut through to the tavern, but then, I figured he’s the only big man in black around.”

Geralt inclined his head, feeling his ears go hot.

“Lady Iliana has time to see you now,” the boy continued, oblivious to the awkwardness.

“By all means...lead the way,” said Jaskier.

They were led out of the alley and back to the mayor’s house by the messenger boy.

“Out of curiosity,” Jaskier asked. “Is your grandad Sir Boris?”

“Yeah, that’s him,” said the lad. “He made me a toy sword for my tenth birthday too.” He pointed proudly to the wooden sword tied at his hip with some string.

“It makes you look a proper hero,” Jaskier said. Then he pulled out his coin purse. “A copper for bringing us the message and...another to not tell anyone what you saw.”

The boy looked between the two of them shrewdly.

“Not even my best friend? I tell Mikhail everything.”

“Not until Geralt and I have left.”

“Three coppers total,” the boy said promptly. Jaskier handed them over good naturedly and the boy flashed a gap toothed grin before taking off.

Geralt and Jaskier shrugged at each other, before finding their way to the main room of the mayor’s house. A broad shouldered woman of about fifty poked her head out of a door.

“Julian?”

Geralt and Jaskier went inside.

“You look well,” Iliana said, sitting behind a large desk and gesturing to a couple chairs. “You havent’ aged a day.”

“And you look as lovely as I remember,” Jaskier said.

“Flirt. Come to ask me for heirs?”

Jaskier shuddered. “No, my lady. I remember your threat well. I think you know why I’m here.”

The two Lyrians barged through the door.

“Did I ask you to enter?” Iliana said, coldly. Geralt felt an unusual curl of fear set up in his stomach, she was a distinctly fearsome woman.

“Well,” said the first Lyrian.

“You were so beautiful, I couldn’t wait on seeing you again,” said the second, slimily.

“Oh I say!,” Iliana said, standing. She placed her hand over her chest in a delicately offended way, which was ill suited to her. “You sir are too bold, and in front of my betrothed too!”

The Lyrians looked, panicked, at the people sat in the chairs. As Geralt was seated in the chair nearest the door, and therefore nearest them, they came to the wrong conclusion. The blood drained from both their faces.

“What an insult!” Iliana continued. “You should be ashamed! What a lack of diplomacy!”

Beside Geralt, Jaskier snickered. She was laying it on a little thick.

“Why,” she continued. “I ought to write to your king! I’ve never been so insulted. And I’m sure my beloved will want to sort out this insult too.” She fluttered her lashes at Geralt.

Geralt nearly jumped out of his seat, but thankfully his brain caught up. He stood, growling a little theatrically and placed one hand on the hilt of his steel sword.

“Our apologies my lady,” the first man said hurriedly.

“Our mistake, we’ll just--” they dissappeared out the door.

“What a fearsome couple,” Geralt heard whispered as the door swung shut.

Iliana sighed satisfactedly and kicked her feet up on her desk. “It seems I should thank you,” she said. “That is going to make negotiations much easier.”

“I’m sure you always get good deals,” Jaskier said.

“Yes. I get the deals I want.”

“You know why I’m here,” Jaskier said.

“Yes.”

“Do you agree?”

“To disolve the betrothal? Of course. Never found a lover for myself so I never bothered but, well, I just don’t do romance.”

“Some people don’t,” Geralt said, thinking of Eskel.”

“Indeed,” Iliana said, smiling warmly at him. “Not all of us have a soulmate to sing us songs.” She laughed at their surprised faces.

“Oh you fooled them, and you may have fooled Boris and Olenka, but I’ve heard your songs, Julian. It’s written right into everything you do.”

She began rummaging in one of the drawers in the desk. “I don’t mind, of course. So few people know we’re actually betrothed...there it is.” She pulled out an old piece of paper. “I’ll just rip it up if that’s fine by you. You’ll have to do the same to yours of course.”

“We’re going to Lettenhove this winter,” Jaskier said. “I’ll do it as soon as I find it.”

Iliana smiled again. “Father always did say that your dad had a horrible filing system.”

“He filed all his papers on the floor, yes, although I imagine my sister is neater.”

Iliana tore the paper in half without ceremony and placed the contract in the waste paper bin. “Lettenhove is very far away, Julian, will you get there in time?”

Jaskier glanced at Geralt.

“I don’t know,” Geralt said.

“No matter,” said Iliana. She began writing something on a new sheet of paper. “Our logging teams float lumber all down the Dyfne and Pontar rivers. Show this to the dockmaster at the tip of the Dyfne and our riverboat captains can get you to Novigrad.”

She pulled out another sheet of paper. “Once you’re in Novigrad, show this to the harbormaster and he’ll get you to Lettenhove.” She looked at their shocked faces and smiled. “Our lumber is the best, and it’s used in everything, including ships. I’m willing to cash in a favor in order to get rid of a useless betrothal.”

“Thank you, my lady,” Jaskier said bowing deeply. “I’ll have my Aunt Szarlotta send a message once our betrothal is fully extant.”

Iliana stood and shook his hand. “I’d appreciate that.”

“Our fathers were penpals,” Jaskier said. “Perhaps we should keep up the tradition?”

The mayor inclined her head. “I’d like that. I may be too busy to write often.”

Jaskier waved a hand. “I can only pick up messages when I pass through Oxenfurt, but I like to make friends with powerful people.”

The two of them shared a smile.

“Not to rush you out my door,” Iliana said. “But I do have a lot to do, winter comes early up here, and I know it does as well in Lettenhove. even with my help, you two should leave soon.”

Geralt and Jaskier left that afternoon, just after a hearty meal at the tavern.

-- -- -- -- -- --

Across the continent and some weeks later, Jaskier and Geralt stepped onto the docks in Novigrad.

“I don’t think Roach liked the river boats,” Jaskier said as Geralt led her off. Roach whinnied and shook her mane emphatically.

“Sorry, girl,” Geralt said. “You’ll have another long boat journey, and this time I doubt we’ll stop so you can run about on land.”

“Nah,” Jaskier said, as they walked toward a tavern for supper. “Boats from Novigrad to Lettenhove stop around the coast on the way, she’ll get plenty of exercise. It’s something to do with the currents.”

He petted Roach’s muzzle softly as they stabled her at the inn beside the tavern and Geralt felt his heart go out to his bard. Jaskier cared so much for Roach. Geralt thought again of the gold band in his pack.

“C’mon,” he said. “Let’s eat.”

-- -- -- -- -- --

Slightly more than a month later, after a slow, coastal boat journey, and then another between Inis Porhoest and Lettenhove, Geralt, Jaskier, and their faithful horse, stepped off the final boat.

“Welcome home, Master Julian,” said a fisherman on the dock.

“Does everyone here know you?” Geralt asked.

“Pretty much, there’s only about three hundred people here.”

News spread fast among three hundred people and Jaskier and Geralt were greeted enthusiastically at the door to the very small castle. A blonde woman who could only be Ksenia, Jaskier’s sister, flung her arms around him, and withing a moment Geralt was being gathered into the hug by a slightly older looking couple.

“Julek,” said the blonde man, pulling back. “My boy, you’re home, and you brought this stunning man, wow, what a looker.”

“Papa, don’t be embarrassing,” Jaskier said. Geralt flushed clear to the roots of his hair. Apparently when Jaskier said he had his father’s personality he meant all of his father’s personality.

They had dinner as a family, including Jaskier’s niece and nephew, Cecylia and Prot. They had questions for Geralt, and he was grateful for the practice he’d had in Gwendeith. It was an enjoyable meal over all, and afterward Jaskier was distracted by his Aunt Szarlotta while Geralt slipped away to ask Mr. Pankratz a very important question.

The two of them returned to the main hall to see Jaskier pretending to be a dragon, while Cecylia and Prot bravely fought him with butterknives, but he straightened up when he saw the look on Geralt’s face.

Geralt took his hand and Jaskier squeezed it three times, it was their code, asking if Geralt needed to go somewhere that wasn’t so hard on his senses. Geralt smiled and shook his head, swallowing nervously around the lump in his throat.

He got down on one knee and pulled out the gold band. “I’m...I’m not good with words.” Geralt swallowed again, wishing he could borrow Jaskier’s eloquence for five minutes or so. “Marry me?”

The words were barely out from his mouth before Jaskier was tackling him to the ground, pressing kisses all over his face.

“Oh Geralt!” he said. “Wait--”

Jaskier looked up at his mother, who smiled and was handed a paper by his Aunt Szarlotta. Mrs. Pankratz ripped the betrothal contract in half.

“Yes,” Jaskier said, laughing. “I will marry you!”

Then they kissed on the chilly stone floor.

-- -- -- -- -- --

Dear Lady Iliana, Mayor of Gwendeith

The former contract has been voided.

Szarlotta of Lettenhove

P.S. Geralt and Jaskier are engaged and send their love.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Holy Cow. 5603 words. I...I don’t even know what to say. I hope you like it.

#the witcher #geraskier #reverse fake dating #fluff #geralt #jaskier #ask box answers

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aliensunflower-fics · 4 years

Text

Marinette Changes Schools: A funny little Lila salt prompt

So, there are a lot of ‘Marinette changes schools’ au’s and I love a whole bunch of them don't get me wrong. BUT the one thing I haven’t seen yet is Marinette changing schools not because of Lila or salt but simply because her parents are moving and they want her to attend a school close to home. So without further ado let me sell you on my little idea:

Lila has been plotting weeks worth of plans and lies, she’s thought up some sob stories about being stalked, about near death experiences, about celebrities that are like her family. She has plans for Marinette all the ways she could make the girl look bad and all the ways she could force Adrien to see her. That all goes out the window one day when she gets to school and it's a sob fest. There is a clear air of dread and dismay, the blue skies she saw on the way to school replaced with heavy storm clouds. And when she gets to class it's worse. Marinette and Alya are hugging and crying, Adrien looks like he's been shot, Nino and Kim are demanding to know ‘why’ even Chloe looks upset, her blue eyes a little glassy. Lila quickly learns why, Marinette’s parents' business is doing GREAT so great in fact that they have decided to open a second location! The twist? They also decided to move INTO the new location and with it being on the other side of Paris and her parents fears for their daughters safety that means Marinette is moving to a new school!

Now Lila doesn’t even have to school her face into a practiced expression of shock. She genuinely is shocked here she’d been planning months in advance picturing the ways she would destroy her rivals life and steal her friends! And now just like that Marinette is MOVING? Of course Lila quickly decides this is a good thing! After all if Marinette is out of the picture ruling the school will be that much easier. Sure Chloe might be queen bee but with Marinette gone people will be looking to replace her! In walks Lila Rossi, a gorgeous upstart model with a heart of gold and connections coming out of her bangs! She’d rule the school and Adrien would fall for her, then Marinette would probably come crawling back desperate for her old friends only to learn she’d snatched them all up! It was brilliant! And with Marinette gone she could probably do it in record time! So Lila covers up her smirk and says she’s devastated to hear that the twin tailed girl would be leaving and begins plotting.

In the month that follows Lila leaves Marinette alone letting her have her friends for what would be for the last time. After all if everyone still loved the designer when she left they’d be all the more eager to replace her with a new and better version. Of course just because Lila is playing nice doesn’t mean she enjoys it. Alya is practically glued to the girl and ignores Lila even when she’s not trying to sabotage Marinette. Adrien is acting like his life is ending and all anyone will talk about is Marinette. When she checks social media it's all just pictures of ‘old-great times with Marinette’ or new photos and videos of helping the girl pack up and move into her new room, which Lila seethes about for a week when she sees the photos of the spacious luxurious room with a private bath. Apparently the Dupain-Cheng’s new bakery was in a pretty ritzy rich neighborhood. During school Marinette is mobbed by a constant stream of people begging her to stay and when they accept that not happening they all at least beg her to ‘come back and visit’ Marinette promises and Lila has to hide her snort. Fat chance of that actually happening.

Finally the last day arrives and Lila has to hold back the urge to gag as everyone fills the nearby park giving Marinette gifts and heartfelt goodbyes. Adrien is the last one to offer his gift and Lila seethes as Marinette gingerly opens the box with a gasp and pulls out two brand new pink hair ribbons, and Adrien goes on to say that they’re made of imported silk! SILK, as if the little baker brat deserved silk! The whole exchange is cliche and romantic as Marinette removes her current hair ribbons to tie in the new ones and Adrien ties the old ones around his wrist like some idiot who doesn’t realize what a love struck longing look he's giving his ‘good friend’. But Lila just keeps reminding herself its just a bit longer and sure enough not long after the hideously gooey exchange between Adrien and Marinette is over the designer is leaving with more tears and farewells. FINALLY Lila thinks she can get back to what matters! Ruling her empire.

As it turns out ruling her empire is not what she thinks. For the first month after Marinette leaves all anyone will talk about is the photos she’s posted online. The first week its ALL about HER new school is a private well known academy with uniforms, and isn't Marinette cute in it? And look at her in her custom black kitty thigh highs? Lila wants to scream, but not as much as when she catches Adrien drooling over the photo of said thigh highs and twirling the old nasty hair ribbons around his wrist. The second week its all about the video tour of her new home and school that Marinette sent Alya. Lila glares the whole time as Alya puts the video on the projector at lunch so everyone can see the big new gorgeous bakery and the beautiful house on the second floor and her stupid big bedroom that should belong to someone like herself and not some bratty bakers daughter! By the third week Lila has had enough and fakes some nasty texts from Marinette hoping to speed up the process of helping her classmates move on to HERSELF. It backfires spectacularly with Alya going on the warpath to learn who would dare frame Marinette now that she’s gone. Lila is starting to realize that somehow Marinette has reached a higher level of popularity now that she’s gone. But she reminds herself it won't last forever that in ‘just a little bit longer’ everyone will forget the baker. Right?

A little bit longer. Never happens. Lila asks the girls to hang out that weekend with plans of winning them over with some juicy celeb story? Alya says they all already made plans to hope aboard the train to spend the whole weekend at Marinette’s new place! Lila tries to corner Adrien into a date after a photo shoot. He disappears and all she hears from the workers on set is that he's been looking up some new bakery on the other side of town. [Marinette is suddenly being visited by Chat Noir every other night but she figures she must have moved closer to where his civilian self lives if hes dropping by so much.] She tries to throw a party for the class? They can't. Marinette will be coming out to the park today! With her new school friends!

AH HA! Lila see’s opportunity and decides to tag along. After all if Marinette has new friends Lila can twist it! She’ll whisper about her replacing them all! Make them hate Marinette’s new friends! Fill them with jealousy till they hate Marinette! It's BRILLIANT! And, it fails in less than two minutes, with Alya learning about Aurore being a ballet dancer and the two girls bonding over their mutual love of DANCE?? How the heck was Lila supposed to know Alya had been a champion ballet dancer in her younger years! Then Nino is bonding with some kid named Allen or whatever about classical vs modern music and how to blend the two! And some kid named Claude is joking with Kim, Max, and Alix! And this is definitely not how things were supposed to go!

The worst part is Adrien, who is passive aggressively fighting for Marinette against Kagami AND Felix who are both all too eager to show how ‘close’ they’ve gotten to the baker's daughter while Adrien’s been across the city. Kagami is all to happy to show off that she ALSO bought Marinette some new silk hair ribbons [in a red shade that happens to match her fencing uniform] while Felix eagerly wisks Marinette away the moment Kagami and Adrien are distracted the two fencers find him openly flirting with an oblivious Marinette her hair down because ‘oh felix was nice enough to help me get some leaves out of my hair and said i should leave it like this!’ [while both Kagami and Adrien agree she looks beyond cute they know this means war.] Needless to say Lila didn’t realize that Marinette was that damn popular with men and woman.

The week after the meet up Lila is worn so thin she’s ready to snap. Not only did the class not get jealous but they actually became FRIENDS with all of Marinette’s new buddies and were planning many more meet ups including a paintball war over the baker girl that saturday. Adrien had taken to openly mumbling to himself about changing schools and how he ‘cant believe’ his own flesh and blood would so openly flirt with HIS very good friend! And what was with Kagami showing off how easily she can pick up and carry Marinette? And why did she invite Marinette to watch their next tournament! He needed to train, what if he lost?? In front of Marinette?! And then she thought he was too weak to keep her safe like all good friends are supposed to do! Clearly Kagami was trying to replace him as Marinette’s very good friend! Poor Nino who was sitting next to the boy had actually volunteered to switch with Lila but she came up with a lie to avoid it, she’d had enough of hearing about Marinette from Alya and Juleka and the rest of the girls, she didn’t also need to hear it from Adrien!

It all comes to a head that Saturday during the paintball tournament when Lila now at her wits end her plans out the window her schemes barely thought out hopes to find something ANYTHING to ruin Marinette’s day and reputation and everything. But Lila just so happens to get completely pelted with paintballs everytime she so much as moves and then later gets ignored when trying to wow Marinette’s new friends, and then gets called out by Felix and Kagami snaps and finally she snaps and SCREAMS and runs off and not even a dark little butterfly comes to help her ruin the perfect day. As it turns out Hawkmoth was a little preoccupied with trying to save his business after all the computers and data involved in his precise scheduling were mysteriously corrupted suddenly freeing up his son's time and schedule so he could spend more with HIS very good friend and no one else's. Kagami and Felix apparently had the same idea as when he gets to her new house their already their doing their best to get on her parents good side.

Basically just give me some comedic, fluffy, Lila salty, Marinette changes school fics. Because I love them ok.

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#lila salt #ml salt prompt #lila salt prompt #adrinette #alya sugar #marichat #miraculous ladybug #miraculous fanfic #miraculous salt #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #protective Adrien #my fic #kagaminette #felinette

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separatist-apologist · 3 years

Note

Um can I have a part 2 to Lucien finding out about solstice? Pretty please?

You can have a part 2. I was not planning a follow up to yesterday's little sass-a-thon but apparently everyone likes bratty Elain and irreverent Lucien.

Lucien woke wondering if he’d imagined the entire night with Elain. It certainly didn’t seem real. She’d barely said one word to him for a good year and some months only to turn around and tell him to eat shit. He wondered what it said about him that he liked it. Lucien groaned, kicking the blankets off his sweaty body like a petulant child. He was tired of waking up alone and more tired still having seen the fire lurking behind his mates’ eyes.

Lucien padded to the bathroom suite, still naked from sleep. He perched on the edge of the tub, turned on the hottest water he could possibly stand, and sank into the scalding water until everything but the top of his head was visible. He was supposed to leave today, back to the mortal lands. Back to sniping with Jurian and arguing with Vassa and daydreaming about Elain when no one looked at him too closely. He still had his apartment in Velaris. Perhaps, if today went well, he’d spend a week in Feyre’s starlit city.

He took his time dressing and grooming, still more than a little irritated with Azriel from the night before no matter how his angry outburst had worked in Lucien’s favor. He certainly would not be outdone in the one arena he knew he could run circles around the male in. Lucien had always had a sense for fashion and what worked well. He didn’t need to know Elain well to know it was something she appreciated about a male.

If Rhysand was surprised to see him that morning, he gave no indication as he handed Lucien the morning paper at the breakfast table. Their silence was companiable enough, sipping coffee while Lucien tucked away tiny pieces of information about Night Court he thought might use as leverage at some point. It was nothing the High Lord wasn’t willing to risk, given how he prized information himself, but Lucien never passed up an opportunity to keep himself well informed.

He felt strangely content in that moment until Elain swept in wearing a gown of pale, shimmering gold that was altogether inappropriate for the softly snowing day around them. Rhys glanced up at her from his cup of coffee, one eyebrow raised for all Elain seemed to notice. She had tea and a scone and, without a word to either of them, sat across from Lucien. Lucien’s eyes roamed what part of her body she could see; the long-sleeved dress seemed to be made of paper and exposed her shoulders and collarbone to him. His fingers twitched around his own mug as the mating bond woke with a vengeance.

Touch her touch her touch her touch her—

“Lucien,” Rhys interrupted Lucien’s musing. Elain kept her eyes focused on the wall behind him, her big, brown eyes framed by too-long lashes. Was she wearing make up, he wondered? Or had her lips always been so pink, so—“Feyre mentioned you were considering staying for a few more days.”

Elain’s eyes focused, glancing towards the High Lord. Had Feyre said that? He certainly hadn’t made any promises outside of his own mind.

“I have some business in the city,” he agreed, well aware Rhysand must know his only business was his mate.

“Are you planning to stay here? You are welcome to, obviously.”

Lucien shook his head as color began to creep into Elain’s cheeks. What was she thinking, he wondered?

“No, in my apartment,” he replied, catching how her eyebrows raised. Did she not realize he had one?

Rhysand’s violet-colored eyes shifted to Elain, his mouth curving into a smile. “I’ll have your things sent over, then. Please, feel free to stop by for dinner if you’d like. I know Feyre very much enjoys your company.”

Yeah, yeah, Lucien thought, still thinking of how Rhysand had shut Azriel down the night before. Not out of friendship, but politics. Still, it was better than tacit approval and, in some stupid, small way Lucien could appreciate the shrewdness.

Elain excused herself leaving Lucien to finish his breakfast and dress for the cold before making the trek towards his apartment. He’d try at dinner, he told himself. It would be easier to corner her somewhere alone, to let her lobby insults at him and, perhaps, kiss her on the mouth if she held still long enough for him to capture her face.

Lucien turned the lock to his apartment to find two things wildly out of place. His bags were sitting just inside the foyer next to a long, silver cape that was too feminine and small to belong to him, hung on the hooks beside the door. Just at the end of the hall, Lucien saw Elain in that same golden gown, arms crossed over her chest.

“I didn’t know you had an apartment,” she accused as he unwound his scarf.

“You never asked,” he reminded her patiently, his blood thrumming at the sight of her in his apartment. He could practically taste the argument floating between them.

Give me your worst.

“Must I do everything?” She asked him, arms crossed over her chest. He had to look away; she’d inadvertently caused her breasts to swell beneath her arms and Lucien was struck dumb at the sight.

“Not everything, no,” he replied, walking to the living room where she waited. “But perhaps something might be nice.”

She scoffed and Lucien dropped onto the cream-colored loveseat, stretching out his long legs as she watched her from the corners of his eye.

“I don’t owe you—”

“Yeah, yeah,” he interrupted, bored. “Why are you here, again?”

Because it was her, after all, standing in his apartment. She shifted, her boots still wet from the snow. She’d created a little wet spot on the hard wood beneath her feet. He would normally have cringed at that, but it was Elain, if she wanted to ruin her floors, who was he to stop her?

She bit her bottom lip. “To tell you how hideous you looked at breakfast this morning.”

Lucien laughed as he ran a hand down his chest. Elain’s eyes followed the movement. “Liar.”

She scoffed. “I’m surprised you fit in this little apartment at all, given the size of your ego.”

He couldn’t help himself as he leaned forward, carefully watching her expression. “You know, Elain, they say it takes one to know one.”

Her mouth dropped open again as she stood, stunned into silence for a moment. “You find me ugly?” She asked, dropping her arms to her side.

“Impossibly ugly,” he agreed, the lie rolling right off his tongue. Her cheeks flushed as he took a step towards her. He was going to kiss her, he decided. “And ill mannered.”

“It is your manners that are offensive,” she retorted hotly. ��Though not nearly offensive as your face.”

Lucien hesitated, surprised by how her words stung a bit. It was a game and yet…she’d touched on something he’d privately feared from the moment Amarantha gouged out his eye. He could still recall, in the early days, how people recoiled when they saw the scarring, how even now people stared, surprised at the brutality etched into his face. He’d spent more than one night wondering if Elain too found him abhorrent to look at.

He arched a brow, his heart hammering in his chest. He didn’t know what he’d do if she truly thought him ugly. It would wound him far more than anything, short of a flat-out rejection of the bond. “Oh?”

Her eyes drifted towards his mouth. Lucien blinked, some of his fear ebbing. “Disgusting,” she murmured, inching closer. He held himself exactly where he was despite his muscles screaming in protest, demanding he yank her into him and kiss her senseless. “The ugliest man I’ve ever seen.”

“Liar,” he told her again. She blinked, head tilted, eyes half-lidded, her lips parted ever so slightly. This was what had gotten Azriel in trouble, wasn’t it? This moment, right here. He suddenly felt immense sympathy for the male. Lucien was also rooted in place, desperate to touch her, too.

“I know,” she whispered. Her eyes fluttered closed the moment he reached for her face, holding her just as she was so he could kiss her. Words failed him the moment their lips touched, the world melting into nothingness. Whatever he’d thought, however he imagined that moment paled in comparison to the real thing. She was soft, her lips sweet. Every single piece of her seemed to radiate an invisible heat his blood recognized by contact alone.

Mate. Mine. His body sang, urging him to take things further, to strip her of her clothes and mark her with his scent so thoroughly no other male could get within a mile of her without smelling him, too. He had to stop himself, unsure what she wanted.

“You’re a shitty kisser,” he told her, forehead pressed to her own. Elain giggled, the sound ringing through his chest.

“You’re so rude,” she responded with a sigh. “How can anyone stand to be in your presence?”

“And yet here you are,” he reminded her, poking her in the stomach. “In my apartment.”

She looked around, her eyes taking in his furniture, his shelves of books, his artwork. “Why don’t you stay more often?”

He shrugged, unable to meet her gaze. “There is little for me to do here.” That was partially true. Why torture himself and sit around waiting on a female who had no interest in him? He wasn’t that much of a glutton for punishment. Elain stepped away, walking towards the wall length windows and pushing back the curtain. Gray, snowy clouds did little to hide the cheery day around them as fat snowflakes were carried along in a winter wind.

“I have been cruel,” she said after a moment. Lucien came up behind her, resting his hands on her delicate shoulders.

“Perhaps. But not without cause.”

She blinked, twisting her neck to look up at him. “It’s just a lot…even now.”

He nodded. “I could help, you know. I’m not your enemy.”

“What kind of help are you offering?” She asked as she turned around, letting him twine his arms around her body. His heart stuttered for a minute. Pretty, she was so pretty—

“Whatever help you’d like,” he managed to choke out. Elain smiled slyly.

“What if the help I want has nothing to do with being made?”

He was going to die, he thought. He cleared his throat. “Could you be more specific?”

She was mocking him. “I often struggle with the laces of my dresses, for example.” She gestured towards the back of her gown, neatly laced with a golden ribbon. Easily undone, he thought, his fingers twitching. It would take one pull to have her dress pooled at her feet. He brought his face closer to hers, well aware that his thoughts were likely not well aligned with what she really needed. Time. Space. Room to get to know not just him but herself.

“Sounds like you need a friend,” he murmured, brushing his lips across hers before dropping his arms and stepping away. She huffed a sigh.

“Do you treat all ladies so poorly?” She demanded. Lucien was back on the couch, legs stretched out as he willed himself to calm down.

“Only the ones I like,” he replied with a grin. Elain plopped down beside him and took his hand, much as she’d done the night before.

“Lucien?”

He’d never tire of hearing her say his name. “Yes, Elain?” She scooted a little closer, her eyes locked on his. She was looking at the scar, he realized. Panic flooded into his throat.

“I lied when I said you were ugly,” she confessed. He exhaled the breath he’d been holding. “And I like the scars. You’re beautiful.”

He reached for her chin, caressing her sweet face. Lowering his mouth to hers, Lucien told her, “Ah, well. It takes one to know one, now doesn’t it?”

#elucien #elucien fic #elucien prompt #elain x lucien #lucien x elain #elain archeron #lucien vanserra #i think we all know a third part of this would just be smut #so perhaps we call it good here?#and if you want to see them bicker more #just send me an ask bestie

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ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes · 3 years

Text

Darklina Fall Fest Day 3

Football/Sports AU | Back-to-School | College AU

Summary: Russian teacher Aleksander Morozov is the bane of his students’ existences. Art teacher Alina Starkova is beloved by her classes. A scheme is launched to get the two together to make their students’ lives a lot easier.

Summer was bleak. Alina hated the heat, hated the mosquitos, hated the sunburns. But most of all, she hated waiting two months to see Aleksander Morozov.

A couple of weeks before school started, teachers went in to set up their classrooms and go over lesson plans with one another. But Alina never saw him during this time. Frankly, she couldn’t find a strong enough link from Studio Art to Russian. So, she usually didn’t see him until classes started up again.

New freshmen rolled in and it was inevitable. Everyone had a crush on the Russian teacher. Until they realized what a hard grader he was then the affection faded.

Alina’s class was always full with a waitlist. She was fun, light-hearted, and casual with her students. But she also inspired them to really become interested in art.

The two seemed like opposites, but had gotten along well in the five years they’d known each other. Aleksander was already working at the high school for a couple of years when Alina came in. He offered to help show her around and from then on, she was head over heels.

Being around teenagers all day made her a little susceptible to the corny, young adult romance cliches. But Alina really did value him as a person. He was tough on his kids, but in a way that encouraged their success. He was sweet, even if some students thought he was Satan incarnate for the amount of homework he assigned.

Alina’s heart fluttered when she saw him in the teacher’s lounge. Apparently, she’d struck gold this year and some of their breaks coincided.

He was taking notes on something on one of the couches. A mug of coffee was slowly cooling on the table in front of him.

“Zdraste.” Alina greeted in Russian before sitting down next to him.

He smiled. “Someone took up Duolingo this summer.”

“Well…I tried.” She tilted her head to the side with a wince. “I had a two-week streak and then I went on a weekend trip with my friends and forgot. Now the little owl will not leave me alone.”

He chuckled and took off his glasses. “Perhaps you’d do better with an actual teacher and not an incessant owl.”

“Perhaps.” She echoed with a smirk. “Do you know any good teachers?”

He just shook his head. “Apparently not. Last year, a senior on my teacher survey said that I was a ‘hard-ass who has never had fun once and needs to get laid’.”

Alina snorted. The comment sounded so funny from his proper accent. “Oh no, I’m so sorry. That’s just…wow they really get ballsy when they’re anonymous and know that they’re on their way out, huh?”

“It’s like they don’t remember that I’ve been staring at their handwriting all semester.”

“Is that what the glasses are for?” She pointed to the simple black frame glasses that he hadn’t had the year prior. “Trying to figure out who’s bullying you in your surveys?”

“Ha, no. No, these were a long time coming.” He admitted. “I just held off on them because I didn’t want my students to think I’m old. They think I’m cranky and tough on them but at least I still have some youth left.”

“We’ll always seem old to them.” She pointed out.

“We all can’t look forever twenty-five.”

She whacked his arm. “For your information, I’ll be thirty in two years. And you’re not that much older than me.”

“I’ve never told you how old I am.” His eyebrow quirked up.

“No, but you told me when you graduated college. I did the math. So, in five years we should do something special for your fortieth.” She gave him a mischievous look as she stood up.

“I’m not listening.” He watched her walk out of the lounge with a smile on his face. Yeah, it was good to be back.

~~~~~~~~~

“Alina, can you tell Mr. Morozov to get a life?” One of Alina’s seniors pulled a dramatic pout.

The art teacher couldn’t help but laugh softly. “He has a life. His life is the Russian language and he wants to make you all fluent.”

“Who even uses Russian outside of high school?” Another one piped up from behind an easel.

“You could find yourself stuck in a remote village in Russia and discover you’re the only person who speaks English.” Aleksander’s voice came from the doorway. They all jolted like he was a ghost. “And on your way to the embassy, you’ll be so thankful for all I’ve taught you.”

The students who had been bemoaning his class went pale as a sheet. The senior sank back into her chair with a sheepish look.

“Miss Starkova, could I see you for a minute?”

“Sure.” She wiped her hands on her apron and walked out into the hallway with him. “Aleksander, you’re the only one in this school who calls me that. Even my students call me Alina.”

“Yes.” He was raised with unbearably strict rules that you always respected your elders. Calling a teacher by her first name certainly wasn’t okay, according to his mother. But Alina could do what she pleased in her classroom. “I don’t mean to interrupt. I was just going to ask if you had gone to the National Ravkan Gallery recently?”

“You’re asking an art teacher if she’s been to an art museum recently?” She teased.

“Ah, yes.” His face reddened a little. “Well, I just wanted to recommend the Russian art exhibit that just started a few weeks ago. I thought you might like it.”

His interest in her interests was possibly the hottest thing about him since his face. “Okay, I’ll check it out.”

There was a faint smile playing on his lips. “That’s all I wanted to say. I won’t keep you from your class too long.”

“See you later, Aleksander.” Alina returned to her class. She thought she looked inconspicuous but her students were eyeing her.

One of her favorite students, Tanya, leaned forward with an intrigued look. “Alina…” She said in a sing-song voice. “What’s that smile about?”

“Hey, concentrate on your still-life, Miss Tanya.”

“Do you like Mr. Morozov? I didn’t think anyone liked him!” The senior girl was relentless. She knew that Alina rarely yelled or punished her students even when they pried into her life.

“Mr. Morozov is a very nice man. Just because he gives a lot of homework doesn’t mean he’s unlikable.”

Tanya gave her friend a look. She leaned over to whisper. “Maybe if they started dating Mr. Morozov wouldn’t be such a pain in the ass.”

“Tanya, gossiping has no place in art!” Alina called from her desk.

The girls giggled and went back to painting.

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

News spread like wildfire in the school. The theory was that if they could pair up the most serious teacher with the most fun, she would balance him out.

“It’s a yin-yang situation.” Penelope, the junior class president, lectured at her lunch table. “Once everything is in balance, our lives become a lot easier.”

“We can’t exactly force them together. They’re teachers, they would tell us to knock it off. Morozov would probably give us detention.” Her vice president, Samuel, added. “And I can’t have that on my record.”

“Then we need to subtly suggest it to them. Like subliminal messaging. They won’t even notice what we’re doing.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

Usually, when Aleksander entered his classroom, all his students went hush. They learned early on that he didn’t tolerate messing around. Frankly, most kids were scared of him. He had a constant expression of “fuck around and find out” on his face.

But that day, he apparently had lost some of that energy.

“Mr. Morozov?”

“Yes, Penelope.” He got himself situated with his lesson plan and notes.

“Are you married?”

There were some teachers at the school who were okay with telling their students a bit about their personal lives. Alina basically put it all on display, she had no cares in the world. But Aleksander was the complete opposite. He even tried to make it so they didn’t know his first name until they got their report cards. Reasonably, a lack of a ring on his finger would be an answer enough. But Aleksander was the kind of teacher who, if he was married, wouldn’t wear a ring to class. He didn’t want his students asking about his relationship or potential wife.

“I’m not.” He responded curtly.

“So, you have a partner?”

“That’s irrelevant.”

“What’s your ideal date? Hypothetically speaking?”

He looked up at her. A perplexed look mixed with his disgruntlement that his students were prying. “My advice, Miss Cooper, would be to focus less on your teacher’s ideal partners and more on your studies. Besides, if you’re going to get away with the hypothetical excuse, you need to be more subtle about it.” He turned to the whiteboard and began his lesson.

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

“So, Alina, you agree that Mr. Morozov is the hottest teacher, right? I mean everyone in the school thinks that.”

“Geez, Samuel, he’s a little old for all of you.” She giggled and shook her head. “But really, that’s inappropriate. You shouldn’t call any of your teachers hot.”

“He’s around your age, right?”

“About, yes.”

The junior boy was staying after school with a couple others to help Alina set up for an art show in the school’s atrium. He was holding a box of tacks so the teacher could hang pieces up.

“I don’t know, I was just talking to a couple of girls who thought he needed a girlfriend.”

Alina laughed sometimes her students were just too funny. “Maybe, but that’s up to him to figure out. You can’t play matchmaker with your teacher.”

But that was the goal.

~~~~~~~~~

“The children are scheming.” Zoya, one of the history teachers, reported one day.

Alina was in the lounge pouring her third cup of coffee of the day. The rainy nature seemed to be making the teachers lethargic but the students were more wired. “They’re teenagers, Zo, I don’t think they appreciate being called children.”

“I’ll stop calling them children when they stop drawing dicks on the desks.” She replied. “But they are scheming, Alina, did you not hear me?”

“Scheming? I don’t know what you could possibly mean by that.” Alina poured in her creamer and could hardly wait for the coffee to cool down.

“I heard them whispering around setting up you and Morozov,” Zoya replied bluntly.

“Oh…yeah, they’ve been kind of weird about him, lately.” She admitted. “I hadn’t realized that’s what they were getting at.”

“Thoughts?” Zoya leaned against the counter, watching her friend’s reaction to the news.

“Well…”

“No way.” Zoya could read Alina’s face like a book. “No way! You like him.”

“Okay, now you’re the one who sounds like a child.”

“Please, Alina, it’s clear. You’re into him. I mean I thought so earlier but I didn’t want to embarrass you.”

“Well, thanks for sparing my feelings,” Alina mumbled into her coffee, practically burning her tongue in the process.

“I could see that happening.” Zoya shrugged. “I mean you’re the only one he remotely tolerates.”

“That’s not true.”

“Is it?” Zoya smirked and walked away, always leaving with the last word.

~~~~~~~~~

“Alina?”

She jerked out of her thoughts. “Hm? Oh, Aleksander, I’m sorry. I was spacing out a little.”

It was December and the campaign to get Alina and Mr. Morozov together was starting to become a bitter battle. Alina’s students were tasked with trying to hype up Mr. Morozov to her.

“Doesn’t Mr. Morozov look so good in black, Alina?”

“Alina, did you know Mr. Morozov knows four languages?”

“My older sister said that they found out he played football in university. Did you know that, Alina? Do you like football?”

Aleksander’s students didn’t need to hype up Alina. She was already an open book and outgoing enough. Their goal was to pry as much tiny little tidbits of his life as they could to feed to Alina. It was tough work and Aleksander was starting to become frustrated with what he perceived as a lack of respect.

“The next person who asks me a question about anything other than adverbs will go straight to the office.”

But they just tried again the next day. All they had was his word. The man had no social media and such a small footprint on the internet.

“Are you still copying?”

Alina realized she was standing right in front of the copier in the faculty lounge. She’d been standing there long enough that her papers weren’t warm anymore. But she’d been a little scatter-brained. With all of her students constantly bringing up Aleksander, and the rest of the teachers being less than inconspicuous, she was seriously considering making a move.

“Sorry.” She gathered her papers but paused. “Hang on, did you just call me Alina?”

“That’s your name.”

“Duh, but you never call me that.” She reminded him.

He shrugged and lifted the top of the copier. “Would you prefer Miss Starkova?”

“What gave you the change of heart?” She responded with her own question.

Aleksander didn’t want her to know that his students had been talking his ear off about her. “I think you’ve asked me enough times to call you that. It’s about time I fulfilled your wishes.”

Alina stepped back and watched him copy his paper. God, her students were right; the man looked damn good in black. “So, I was wondering if I could take you up on that offer for Russian lessons?”

“Sure.” He nodded. There was no reason to ask why. He didn’t need to know the reason. All he knew is he could finally have an opportunity to impress her. With all his students going on and on about her, he realized he ought to take a shot in the dark. For years, he thought so highly of Alina. But he was so worried she would turn him down and things would become weird working in the same school. But things seemed to be going in the right direction and he was going to take advantage of that. “Would you want to come over to my place this weekend?”

“Sure.” She smiled and glanced down at the papers in her hand. Truthfully, she was worried if she kept looking into his dark eyes she would burst into flames. “You have my number, so just text me when you want me to come over.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Aleksander hadn’t been on a date in a couple of years. He tried a few times when his prospects for being with Alina felt grim. He figured if he could find someone else, then he wouldn’t stay so hung up on her. But none of the women he ever went out with could hold a candle to her.

Now he was rusty when it came to dating. And it was just his luck that he’d break his dry spell with the woman of his dreams. At least she wasn’t a stranger to him. They knew each other well.

Still, Aleksander’s palms were sweating a little bit when he went to the front door to let her in.

“Hi.” She greeted warmly. The cold December night made her cheeks red.

“Hi.” He smiled and felt his nerves calm. This still was the woman with who he had many lovely, down to Earth conversations. “Please, come in.” He offered to take her coat.

She looked around his home and found it to be inviting. There were a few framed photographs in the entrance hallway. Most looked to be travel pictures. There was one toward the end of the hall, it was an older photograph of a couple standing in front of St. Basil’s Cathedral in the Red Square.

“My parents.” He explained.

“You look a lot like your father.” She remarked. “When did they come here from Russia?”

“They didn’t. They still live there. I came here for university and stayed.” He walked to the living room with her.

“Oh, I didn’t know you don’t have family here.” It made her a little guilty knowing he probably spent most of his holidays alone if he didn’t spend them with friends. If she’d known, she would’ve invited him over. She certainly would in the future, she was sure of that.

He didn’t comment. “Are you hungry?”

Alina caught a whiff of something savory from the kitchen. “I am now. That smells amazing.”

Aleksander went into the kitchen to check on the chicken dish in the oven.

She couldn’t believe what a warm and tidy place he kept. She didn’t expect him to be a slob, but she…well she wasn’t sure what she expected. “So, you just came up with the ruse about Russian lessons to get me to come over for dinner?” She teased.

He chuckled as he returned from the kitchen. “You approached me. I think you had your own ruse.”

“Oh?” She sat on the arm of the sofa.

“I don’t think you intended on really learning Russian.” He moved a little closer to her.

“You don’t know that.” She retorted. “I very well could have wanted to learn.”

“Really?”

She huffed out a sigh. “No. It was really hard, okay? Those two weeks of Duolingo were hell and it was only basic level stuff. I’m shit at learning languages.”

“Well, if it makes you feel better, I was raised speaking it. It’s much harder to learn a language that’s not the dominant language of your country and when you’re an adult.” He pointed out comfortingly.

“I know, I just wanted to impress you.”

He smiled at her. “Well, for the record I’m trying to impress you with my cooking.”

“I’ll be impressed when I taste it.”

“After all these years I still underestimate your level of sass. I get less attitude from my students.”

She just smirked. “I think it’s because I know you can’t give me detention. And if you tried, I would just give you detention right back. We’re constantly at a stalemate that way.”

It was nice being able to have a conversation without being interrupted by the normal school day. Plus, they weren’t being watched by their coworkers and students. They could just be themselves. “So, you just like to push my buttons.”

“I like knowing that you like it.” She shrugged, not willing to apologize.

He just chuckled. “Charming, Miss Starkova, charming as always.” He walked over to the liquor cabinet.

“Oh, so we’re back to Miss Starkova?”

“It fluctuates, depending on my mood.” He crouched down to find a good white wine.

She chewed on her lip and decided this was the night she wanted to be honest. “Aleksander…I like you a lot.” She said softly.

He walked back over with the wine and two glasses. “I like you a lot too. You’re witty and cheerful.” He handed her a glass and popped the cork. “Before you started working at the school, sometimes I would have these days where I didn’t even want to get out of bed. Facing the day seemed so daunting. But since you started there, I’ve never had a day like that. Even the possibility of passing you in the hall was enough to motivate me.” He poured the wine in her glass and then his own.

She was radiant as she beamed at him. She tapped the rim of her glass against his and took a sip. “Remember when you got the flu last year?”

“How could I forget?” It was a miserable time; Aleksander had never felt so awful. He was out of commission for at least a week.

“That was the worst week of my professional career. I just wanted to leave my class and come take care of you.”

He was certain that if she had been there to take care of him, the recovery wouldn’t have been so terrible. “I would’ve gotten you sick, though.”

She just gave a one-shoulder shrug. “The things you do for…” She caught herself and found herself in an embarrassing panic. “Um…”

“For love?”

Her heart pounded in her chest. God, was he going to think she was a creep? It was their first date and she was talking about love. “I mean…”

“It’s alright.” He reassured her. And that was that. They knew how each other felt, but in a way there was no need to put a word to it yet. They would have plenty of time for labels in the future.

~~~~~~~~

“So, I didn’t know you spoke four languages.”

“I don’t recall telling you that.”

She smiled slightly between bites. “Some of our students have been…advertising you to me, so to speak. I don’t know if they were just making things up or if they were digging into your past.”

“You know what they ought to do?” Aleksander set down his fork to make his point. “They should just wipe the internet of all information every ten years or so.”

Alina giggled. “Why? People might find old pictures of you as captain of your football team?”

“Christ.” He sighed and cursed out his university for letting images like that linger. If he had the technological know-how and determination, he’d wipe out every existing picture of him from university. But since he failed at figuring out Twitter, he decided it wasn’t worth the energy.

“To be fair, they were the ones who printed the pictures out, not me.” She was enjoying the way he was squirming. It was a little unfair to work with someone so attractive and calm and collected. Seeing him get a little hot under the collar made the last five years all worth it. “I bet you still look good in those shorts.”

“Alina…”

“So, four languages? Was that true too?”

“Yes.” He allowed her to get away with the shorts remark, at least for the time being. “That’s true.”

“Okay, Russian and English. I’m going to guess you also know…Italian and Japanese.” She came up with the languages on random.

“I taught French when I was student-teaching and I picked up Polish from a neighbor. It’s close enough to Russian.”

“Why would you want to keep that from people?” She asked softly. “Aleksander, you’re such an interesting person. I don’t know why you close yourself off so much from everyone.”

Her big brown eyes and gentle nature disarmed him. Normally, he was so used to throwing up his barbed-wire fence any time someone tried to get close to him. It didn’t matter if it was a student, coworker, or stranger. The less people knew about him, the safer he felt. “I guess it just makes my life easier.”

“Don’t you ever feel the need to confide in someone?”

His eyes softened on her. “You’re probably the closest thing I’ve had to a confidante.”

“Well, I’ll take on that role with pride.” She beamed. “As long as you keep making me dinners because this was amazing.” She glanced down at her clean plate.

“Do you cook much?” Aleksander offered to pour her another glass of wine.

Alina accepted, holding the glass up for him. “I’ve tried learning so many times. My friend Genya, who was my roommate at Ravkan U, every so often she’ll drag me down to the community center for some Italian or Thai cooking class. She does pretty well but I do terribly. I guess she’s more free form with everything, I heard cooking is about feeling and less about accurately measuring things which I fall victim to.” She took a sip of the wine and realized he was watching her with a faintly amused smirk. “What?”

“You just told me like six things completely irrelevant to the question.”

“I felt they were relevant.” She asserted with a confident smile. “Try as you might, Morozov, you’re not going to tighten the lid on me.”

“Mhm, yet at the same time you’re trying to loosen my lid.”

Alina burst out laughing. “Okay, that analogy might not work, but I appreciate you humoring me.”

Aleksander felt so blessed to have heard her laugh so many times in one day. It felt like a rarity but he knew he would strive to make it a more frequent occurrence. “Can I ask why you’re so open with your students?”

She shrugged and swirled the wine around in her glass. “I feel like when I’m open, I can control what they know. You might think I’m a loose cannon but I’m strategic.” She winked at him. “The less I try to keep secret from them, the less likely they’ll go looking for unanswered questions. I can tell them I played field hockey in university; they probably won’t go looking for pictures of me playing. You practically put a sign on your back that reads ‘try to uncover who I really am’. Teenagers are bored constantly and they love a challenge.”

Aleksander hated that her logic checked out. He huffed. “I suppose. But I never had a problem until they got it in their heads that I should ask you out.”

“True. But did they bring you any pictures of me from university?”

“No.”

“Then whose strategy worked best?”

He just smiled and shook his head. “Yours.”

“I rest my case.” She stood up and cleared the table.

“I can do that.” He stood up quickly but she was much faster and brought most of the dishes to the sink. “Alina, honestly, I can clean up.”

“I know.” She stopped him before he could get to the sink. “But not right now.” She grabbed onto his collar and led him back into the living room. Aleksander followed eagerly.

After five years of pining after one another, it felt like they’d been together for a long time. Even if it was their first date, they had such a strong history. Soon enough, Alina found herself making out with Aleksander on the couch.

After all the times she imagined being with him, she never imagined he’d be so damn good. But he kissed her like he was being shipped out for war the next day. The pent-up passion and adoration spilled out.

As he was kissing her neck, she moaned softly, “Sasha…”

“Someone was looking up nicknames for Aleksander.” He accused playfully.

Alina’s mind was mush by that point. Her response was weak, “Someone was hiding how good of a kisser he was.”

If he looked smug, she couldn’t see as he kissed her shoulder and collarbone.

“Our students are going to have a field day when they find out.” She realized.

“They don’t have to know, malyshka.”

Alina had heard him speaking Russian sometimes when she passed by his classroom. It was hot to her then and he was saying phrases like “I want to go to the zoo” and “Is your mother a doctor”. But when he called her baby, she was putty in his hands.

“You trust me to keep a secret?” She toyed.

“I trust you entirely.” He murmured and brought his lips back to hers.

~~~~~~~~

“Good morning. Hope you all had an enjoyable summer.” Aleksander walked into the first class of the year. It was his senior class, the same kids he’d had for four years.

And instantly, some of them noticed something different about him.

“Mr. Morozov…did you get married?” A girl in the front row exclaimed loudly. Those who hadn’t been paying attention all zeroed in on his left hand. There was confused chattering.

“Yes, yes, alright.” He held up a hand to bring them down a couple of notches. “I did get married over the summer. There’s no need to make a big deal out of it.”

“But…who? Were you dating someone this whole time? Did you lie to us!?”

“Jamie, there’s no need to be dramatic.” He replied.

�� “How could you do this? Alina really likes you!”

“Well, I should hope so because she married me.”

There were many audible ‘what!?’s across the room.

Penelope, who had retained her seat as class president was struggling to find the words. “But-you-we didn’t even know you two were dating!”

“There’s a subtle art to lying to your students.” He responded. “Since you were all so keen to meddle, I should be allowed to choose what I want to tell you all.”

Suddenly, questions were being hurled at him. Far more questions than he’d ever been asked in one class.

“Where did you get married?”

“How long had you been dating before you got married?”

“Are you going to have kids?”

“Can we see pictures of the wedding?”

Aleksander spoke over them. “There is only one person who is willing to tell you anything about my marriage and it won’t be me. If you want to talk about my wife, very well. We’ll do so in a way that relates to actual schoolwork.”

They groaned.

“Abby, if you are going to refer to Alina by her last name, which you all should anyway because it’s a sign of respect, how would you address her?”

“Mrs. Morozova.” She answered. The girls around her all giggled with joy that their attempts had actually worked. And it had worked so well. No one expected to come into the new school year and find the two were already married. It already seemed to be working because he hadn’t threatened to send anyone to the office.

“Good, why?”

“Because Russian last names are gendered.”

“Excellent.” He began passing out papers. “This is an assessment.”

Another grumble echoed through the room.

“It’s not graded. I’m not that heartless. It’s just to see how much you all remember from last year. Which I expect to be a good deal. I’m not wasting time reteaching concepts you all should know by now.”

~~~~~~~~

Penelope stormed into the art room. “Alina, your husband is insane! He assigned us three chapters for this weekend!”

Other students in the room who hadn’t heard the news all gasped.

“Alina, you’re married to Mr. Morozov?”

She smiled sheepishly. “Yes, we got married in July.”

They all flocked to her desk like little ducks looking for bread crumbs.

“It’s not that insane!” Alina fielded their questions. “We started dating in December.”

“December? And you didn’t tell us?”

“You know him, he likes his privacy and he’s entitled to it. But yes, December.”

“So, you got married after eight months?” Samuel looked shocked.

“I know it’s sudden. But…we’d been friends for so long. It felt like we’d been together for years, honestly. We moved in together in May. When we went on vacation in July, we just decided to get married. But none of you go elope until you’re much older.” She warned. “I don’t want to get calls from your parents.”

“Can we see pictures?”

“It’s not much to see…”

“Please?” They begged.

“I promised him not to…”

“PLEASE?”

Alina knew that she wouldn’t be getting anything done that day unless she caved in. “Alright, but you did not see this.” She took out her phone and pulled up the picture.

Alina was in a white, strapless sundress. Aleksander wore jeans and a white button-down. They were married on the beach with just the official and witnesses. One of the witnesses took the photograph. Aleksander cradled her face in his hands as he kissed her so tenderly.

The girls squealed and swooned.

“So, he does have a heart.” Samuel joked.

“He does.” Alina laughed and put her phone away before they demanded to see more pictures. “Alright, let’s get some work done.”

~~~~~~~~~

“Hey, I want to thank you two.” Zoya strode into the lounge.

Alina and Aleksander were sitting on the couch together, Aleksander’s arm loosely wrapped around her shoulders.

“For what?” Alina looked over the back of the couch as Zoya went straight for the coffee.

“For two things. One, for inviting me to your wedding. Oh wait, never mind about that one.”

Aleksander looked amused. “Oh, don’t mention it.”

Alina elbowed her husband. “What’s the second one, Zo?”

“For distracting my kids!” She snapped. “All they can talk about is how you two got married. I couldn’t get two sentences in without them asking something else. How should I know if you two are going to have kids? Like do they think I break into your house and check your drawer for condoms?”

“Christ, Zoya, we get it.” Aleksander asserted.

“We didn’t think it would be such a big deal,” Alina admitted.

“They spent about ten minutes of my class trying to figure out what your dating name would be like you two are damn celebrities.” Zoya rolled her eyes. “Little bastards didn’t get very far because your names both start so similarly.”

“I don’t even want to know.” Aleksander decided and went back to his book.

“Just please tell me they’ve been pestering you as much as they have the rest of us.”

“Yes,” he said.

“They’re excited.” Alina admonished them both. “They’ve been advocating for this for a while.”

“So, how long is the victory party going to last?” Zoya sat down with her coffee.

“Much longer if my wife keeps sharing photos of our wedding.”

“Damn it!” Alina groaned. “I told them not to tell.”

“They’re teenagers, they can’t keep secrets.”

“Neither can my wife.”

Zoya pulled a face at his response. “Okay, Morozov, you call her your wife one more time and I’m making you buy lunch for us.”

Aleksander shut his book and looked up at the history teacher. “My wife would be upset if I dropped that much money on food.” He said deadpan.

“That’s it. Lunch is on you tomorrow.” Zoya decided.

“Buy your own lunch.” He stood up and kissed Alina’s hair.

“You need to do something about your husband.”

Alina just smiled. She didn’t want to take sides. But damn it if she didn’t love Aleksander calling her that over and over again. “Where do you want to get lunch from?”

Zoya smiled. “That’s my girl.”

~~~~~~~~~

Things died down and another school year ended and after a scorching hot summer, another began.

Alina walked into the classroom and was met with shocked silence. “Yes, I’m pregnant.”

The seniors who were sophomores when Alina and Aleksander began dating all screeched.

“How far along are you?”

“Is it a boy or a girl?”

“Is it twins?”

“What will you name them?”

Alina quieted them down. “If you don’t make a big deal out of it the rest of the period, I’ll show you the ultrasound.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

It worked but not for Aleksander’s class. By fourth period, everyone had seen Alina or heard the news.

“Mr. Morozov, congratulations!”

“Thank you, Sarah, that’s kind of you.” He replied politely. “Now, we’re going to pick up where we left off last year and talk about-”

“How far along is she?”

“Five months. Okay, reflexive verbs-”

“I heard you were having a girl, are you having a girl?”

He sighed. “If you want to ask a question, you have to ask in Russian. If any grammar or pronunciation is incorrect, I won’t answer.”

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

In January, Aleksander entered the classroom but didn’t put his things down. He seemed strangely flustered and move quickly. “I wanted to just leave these worksheets with you all. Your substitute will be here in just a moment.” He passed out the papers.

“Why do we have a substitute?”

“Because I need to leave for the day.”

“Is Alina having the baby!?” Some super sleuth asked.

Aleksander longed for the days when students were terrified to ask him personal questions. “Yes. Now, please be good for the substitute and don’t bother him about questions about me. Have a good day.”

“Good luck, Mr. Morozov!”

When Aleksander returned from paternity leave, the vultures descended. He didn’t even try. He entered the classroom, opened his bag, and pulled out a photograph. “His name is Emil, he’s perfectly healthy as is Alina. You have five minutes to discuss this then you have a test.”

His students all bemoaned the restriction. But it was the same old Mr. Morozov. Even though, when the class left, he sat behind his desk and picked up the photograph of his wife holding his son. He smiled.

#darklina #darklinafallfest2021 #darklinadaily #aleksander morozova #alina starkov #shadow and bone #shadow and bone fanfiction #darklina fanfiction

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syndianites · 3 years

Text

A Queen Serves and Protects

Chapter One

Current --> Next Chapter!

Summary: Post-Style Queen, Pre-Queen Wasp.

Chloe finds the Bee Miraculous, but instead of finding an obliging, subservient Kwami, she finds the Kwami of Order and Subjugation, and Pollen is not about to let herself be used like Nooroo was.

Granted, the only danger in a teenage girl is the damage she poses to herself. Can Pollen shape Chloe into a hero? Or will she stubbornly refuse to change and remain the bitter, harsh person the city has long since known?

[My take on how Chloe's character could have developed]

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The tap tap tap of nails on a desk was all Chloe could think about as she blankly stared at the board in front of her. This all was tiring. Notes were tiring. School was tiring. English was tiring. How could someone be expected to sit still and pay attention to something so boring for hours on end?

Movement in her purse reminded her that it was what good students do. Sit and pay attention. Do their own work. Put in their own effort.

Chloe grit her teeth.

Well it was too hard! Being a better person shouldn’t mean taking notes and being studious in class! It should mean saving people from getting hit by a car, or stopping people from kicking puppies, or having people look to her for inspiration! Not this boring shit.

Surreptitiously, she took a deep breath.

It was all going to be worth it, she reminded herself. If she had to sit still and be a good student and do all her work herself, it would be nothing compared to being a superheroine.

But as she grew more restless, her mind wandered towards what got her into this situation in the first place....

///////

One might have called it a stroke of luck to find a magical item on the sidewalk. Of course, after a day as shitty as that, anything positive would be considered lucky. Such was not the case for Chloe.

She didn’t know what it was at first and had almost passed it by when she second guessed herself. It looked old, but well cared for. Most of all, the box looked priceless and a quick peek into the box showed a luxurious comb.

Her mom had walked away with a dismissive ‘Come along, Cassandra,’ which had her shutting the box and hurrying to not be left behind.

A limo ride later and she found herself back in her room, ignored by her mother and forgotten by her father as he fussed over Audrey. Typical. But sure, her mom furiously turns her dearest Adrien into a gold statue, then does the same to Chloe when she tries to help him!

Chloe pursed her lips. It’s not like Audrey would have remembered how close she was to Adrien after being away for so long. If she had, surely she would have spared poor Adrikins? Her hands tightened into fists.

Except, she was still holding something.

The box with the comb. It had slipped her mind as she’d arrived home. Barely made a dent against the sickening feeling that curled up in her stomach as her mother hemmed and hawed, not sparing even a glance at her daughter she’d betrayed.

Which was fine. She’d been akumatized. Surely the stress and aftermath of being taken into Hawkmoth’s fold would cause her to forget about her beloved daughter. Later, when Audrey had properly taken her wrath out onto the proper people, she would come up and fuss over Chloe and ensure she was alright.

Or she’d send her daddy to do it.

Returning her attention back to the box, she lifted the lid once more. It was a lovely shade of golden yellow, with black detailing. Upon closer look, taking in the fine detail of what seemed to be insect wings, Chloe realized that she was looking at a beautifully crafted bee comb.

She ran a delicate finger on the edge of the comb only to be met with blinding light. Cringing away, she brought her hand up to shield her eyes. When the light dissipated, she glanced up.

The box and comb clattered to the floor.

A bee was floating in front of her.

A bee with a big head, and big eyes, and arms, and a big stinger, and Oh. My. God.

She screamed.

///////

Eyes flicked towards the window to catch the dying rays of dusk. A trembling hand brought a delicate porcelain mug up to a man’s face. He finished off the now lukewarm tea and let it sit for a moment.

Peering into the remains, he observed the major remnants of the tea leaves. Lazy, wavy lines dominated the cup, with a scattering of imperfect triangles. Finally, a grouping of mountains to one side.

Master Fu hummed in thought.

“What do you think of the fate of the Bee, Master?” Wayzz spoke up from where he sipped his own drink.

Turning back to the nearly navy darkness of the sky, Fu replied, “We will have to see, my friend. Only time will tell us now.”

///////

“Please calm down My Queen. Surely Ladybug informed you of what you needed to know?” Pollen reassured quickly. Except, the small being felt something was off. She was floating safely in an apartment with a girl she’d never seen before, no akuma in sight or mind. Her Chosen was clearly surprised to see her.

And there was no Ladybug in sight.

Still, she kept a smile on her face.

“What are you! What do you mean Ladybug told me what I need to know? Wait,” Chloe broke off with a gasp, “Are you how Ladybug gets her powers?”

Ah, a red flag.

Pollen was plenty aware that Ladybug had chosen her to assist in an akuma fight. If she had not been delivered by Ladybug then something must be amiss. For now, she would watch her words carefully.

“No, My Queen. But I am an ally of Ladybug,” Pollen continued. “I am here to help grant another the power to assist Ladybug and Chat Noir in their quest to defeat akumas and stop Hawkmoth.”

The girl’s eyes lit up. “Does this mean I get to be a superheroine? I knew it! I knew Ladybug would see she needed my help!”

Pollen stopped her there, “On the contrary, My Queen. With Ladybug absent it is my duty to uphold order and ensure you are a good fit to be bestowed my power. Since there is no immediate threat, I see fit to judge your character as you go about your day.”

“What!” The girl griped at her, “Clearly Ladybug knew what she was doing. If you can make me become a superhero I demand you do it!.”

There was a harsh pull in her gut and Pollen fought to bite her words back. She knew she had to obey her holder, but she also knew enough to pull through some loopholes. Poor Nooroo has been stuck in a terrible enslavement for far too long for the rest of the kwami to not prepare for such an occasion.

“You must be a good person to be a superhero, first.” The pull in her gut lessened, but remained. “If you can prove to me you are worthy of holding my power, I will make you a superhero.”

Pollen received a scoff in reply. “I am a good person! Just ask anyone at all. My daddykins always tells me I’m doing good, so why wouldn’t I be?”

The pull began to intensify again. Worry started to drum through her. If Pollen couldn’t convince this person to let her check her history first, she wouldn’t have time to find and return to Ladybug- or, at least, inform Ladybug who possessed her Miraculous.

A low, angry buzz started in her chest. A Queen never let her hive be hurt by her own actions. If she did not stop this girl now, she could harm the rest of her kind, as well as Ladybug and Chat Noir.

And, well, who was she to let that happen.

She faked a sigh, “Yes, of course My Queen. Now listen closely.” Pollen risked floating closer to the girl, who leaned in in response. For a moment, she felt bad. The girl seemed earnest enough, if conceited and arrogant. A good Queen would have these traits in modesty, just enough to benefit and little enough to avoid harm. Then the pull in her gut worsened and she chose to make her move.

With a sweet smile, Pollen leaned forward slowly. Then she turned in a swift movement and struck the poor girl in the junction between her left arm and shoulder. The girl let out a choked screech before her body came to a full stop, paralyzed.

Floating back so that she could be seen in full view, Pollen gave a more genuine smile. “That, my Queen, is one of my powers. Immobilization. Now,” she paused, watching the girl’s eye twitch for a split second. “You will listen to me. My first loyalty is to Ladybug. If you are not fit to be her ally, I will not allow you to use my Miraculous. From what I can tell, you stumbled upon my Miraculous by chance.”

A quiet part of her whispered that Master Fu could have had a hand in this, but she dismissed it.

“Ladybug chose me to help her with the latest akuma, and they are gone. However, I am willing to give you a chance. While I serve both my Master and Ladybug, I am my own being. If you can prove you are good enough to help Ladybug and Chat Noir, I will grant you my power to help them. If not, I will reclaim my Miraculous and return to Ladybug, telling her that you are not fit to wield any such Miraculous.”

Pollen clasped her hands behind her back and puffed up her chest, portraying an image of regality in such a small body. “So I will offer you a deal. You will not ask me to make you into a hero. You will not order me to do anything. Most importantly, you will not reveal me or my Miraculous to anyone other than Ladybug or Chat Noir, or my Master. In return, I will spend time with you to decide whether you are fit to be my holder- and if you are, I will see to it that you are trained and informed as much as I can do for you before you go into the fight with Ladybug and Chat Noir. If at any point you break this deal I will immediately take my Miraculous back and you will never be allowed to see it again.”

She lowered her eyes to look down upon the still frozen girl. “Do you accept the terms of the deal?”

The girl, for her part, didn’t move. Rather, her anger and impetulant thoughts swirled in her head. While Pollen was no Kwami of Emotion or Mind, she could feel her inner chaos. As the girl realized that she would not be set free unless she made the deal, her fire wore down.

Pollen broke out into a smile. She floated forward, ready to let her free of her grasp. This was a risk. If she didn’t accept the deal, this girl could turn the tides on her in an instant. If the girl realized she could command her to do whatever she wanted, it would be over. Just under her display of confidence, fear swam in her stomach.

But she was nothing if not determined. With a tap to the young lady’s face, she was unfrozen.

For a moment, the girl fumbled over her words,” I- you- how did you- how dare you!”

When Pollen pointedly swept down to pick up her Miraculous and floated back, the girl stopped.

In her head, her mind ran on the idea of being a hero. Being beside Ladybug. Being loved by all of Paris. Being good enough for her Mother to remember her name. This was her chance! Her chance to change everything! To prove herself! If she just said yes and passed the stupid little test, she would get to be a hero.

Besides, she could bend and break the deal if she needed to.

Brushing down her capris, the girl stood up straight. With all the dignity she learned from being the child of the mayor, she calmly spoke, “I accept your deal.”

Pollen fought down a crushing smile. Instead, she reached a paw forward to shake on it. The girl, to her credit, only eyed her a moment before giving a finger to shake.

“Excellent. My name is Pollen. For the next twenty-four hours I will be watching you go about your life as normal to determine if you are deserving of my power.”

“Well, Pollen, I am Chloe Bourgeois, Ladybug’s closest ally, I can assure you that you will find nothing but good things about me!”

////////

Above the Dupain-Cheng Bakery, a sleep-deprived girl sat up hastily working through homework as the night ticked on. Perhaps from the late hour, or her finally caving under all the stress of her life, she felt like laughing. Giggles escaped her to the alarm of a sleepy Tikki beside her.

“Marianette, are you okay?” The kwami asked in concern.

“Yeah,” Marianette stifled a laugh. “I just suddenly had the thought that something super funny happened.”

Tikki shook her head disapprovingly. “You need to sleep. Staying up this late is not good for you.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” she sighed, “It has been way too long a day after losing the Bee miraculous.”

Tikki patted her shoulder in sympathy as Marianette got up and began her bed routine.

A long day indeed.

#miraculous ladybug #miraculous tales of ladybug and chat noir #chloe bourgeois #pollen (ladybug)#ml fanfic #ml

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shewhowillnotbenamed1 · 3 years

Text

I wanted to get this ‘Valentine’s Day’ piece out, even though it’s massively, supremely late. 😭It’s part of a longer piece (because I couldn’t stop writing it😶) and I’m still not sure whether or not it’s not terrible.😖

prompt list

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This couldn't be right.

Damian almost did a double take, his cool smirk withering when he glanced up, transfixed by the sleek storefront at the cross streets where he stood. Why on earth would Raven be in a place like this?

The building towered above the tottering sea of gray, black and blue below. And the mannequins in the display lorded over their dominion, propped loftily on their perches, arms and legs of impractical proportions, stilted at absurd angles.

And why would she summon him here?

His trousers began to buzz audibly and the shifting crowd of passersby jostled him closer to the glass. Damian delivered the faceless caricatures of the female form a final foreboding glare, before he reached down to free the device vibrating in his pocket. New Message. Raven. Apparently, it was urgent. He tapped the speech bubble icon with a fingertip and his jaw went slack.

I Need You.

The three words seemed etched into the surface of the screen. And they were more than enough to get him to take a deep breath and grasp the curved door handle, his jaw set, and wingtips marching determinedly onward.

The atmosphere inside the store was even more unexpected than the outside. When translated, the pounding music and low lighting read as more nightclub than boutique. It was completely impractical in Damian's view—how could anyone locate a price tag, let alone see the item they were intending to purchase? Although, after a few minutes of skulking around in the dark, he could see how the implementation of such a design was advantageous. With stealthiness like his, he wasn't in danger of being accosted by overly helpful employees hungry for commissions, before he located the heading of a dramatic script that read Dressing Rooms, and turned underneath it.

Down the row each stall had a flood light stationed above it, but only one appeared to be presently occupied: the corner room at the farthest end of the hall. And as he got closer he noticed it also appeared to be the largest. Damian glanced behind him and rapped on the door with a knuckle. And just as he began to wonder if he'd needed some sort of special knock or password prepared, the lock glowed black and unlatched itself.

"I'm here." The door creaked open and the floor groaned under his solid weight. Damian turned swiftly to shut it, growing steadily concerned.

"So what is it? What's the—big emergency..." He started, but his tongue began to feel heavy and leaden inside his rapidly drying mouth. And his eardrums began to beat violently until they matched the thumping of his maddened heart.

Red.

Blood red.

Burning. Blinding. Blazing.

In the carpet, the walls, the curtains, the chandelier.

It was everywhere—even in the deafening pounding hammering away at his head.

Thundering images suspended before him, going in and out of focus. They were searing his eyes, blearing his vision. In sinful shapes marred over pale flesh, it was red repeating over and over. Criss-crossing crimson. Damian had to dig his fingernails into his palms to ground himself with the tangibility of a familiar sensation.

And suddenly he realized that all the times before were incomparable, this was what it meant to be blindsided by a breath-taking blow. This was what it meant to receive a rush of blood to the head…

…or a rush of blood to the—

"I'm glad you came so quickly."

And the silhouette of Raven turned where she sat on a velvet ottoman, leaning forward in a way that was guaranteed to diffuse away the rest of his brain's processing ability. It was all he could do not to goggle at her like some cartoon character. Tawdry and tactless. Damian inwardly cursed the merciless Goddess above as he took in the cleavage created by cups, a series of straps and bows and elastic and he didn't know what. Only that he shouldn't have been so disarmed by it—by Raven's breasts pushed up to high-heaven. Like they weren't perky enough or distracting enough in their usual sheath of simple black cotton.

His wide emerald eyes strayed downward in spite of themselves and onto shapely, stocking clad legs folded one over the other, with a lace-up heel tapping out the bass of the synth pop bleeding into the background. Raven slid to her feet seamlessly, swaying slightly to the song. She took a single step, allowing the shadows to part for her as she did so.

There was a muted click, clack, click of her heels on the carpet as she drew near. He'd never seen her in stilettos, and he stared at them through slits.

Gods, they had to be four inches at least. Their impressive height only seemed to serve to make her look even more powerful. Just about as powerful as the force rooting him to the spot.

The deep panging in Damian's chest carried on, a racehorse charging from the starting gate, galloping faster and faster, as she grew closer and closer.

Suddenly he'd become aware of the fact that it was far too warm in here for the dead of winter. Or was it simply that Raven radiated such an intense heat?

Most definitely the latter.

The garnet colored lace gracing Raven's skin was a perfect match to her chakra stone. The semi-sheer fabric of her bra offered up a playful glimpse of the darker skin of her nipples beneath. When his gaze wound down her tapering waist, it appeared that the lack of opaqueness carried over to the front of her panties. He could just make out a little shadow—a promise laying underneath a tempting, well-kept diamond shape in plum wine. And last, but certainly not least were the thigh highs trimmed by garnet lacings and affixed to a red and black garter.

Damian's throat had somehow gone even drier. He tried to swallow with great difficulty, then tugged at his turtleneck for a reprieve.

However, there would be no such alleviation for his trousers.

"There's no emergency, Damian..." Raven assured him with a tilt of her head, lilac tendrils skating across a valley between pale peaks. "You'll have to forgive me, but I had to get you here. I had to know..." She paused, folding her arms as she prepared to pose a question to him. "Tell me... what do you think...of my outfit?"

Damian froze, fingers mid-tug and blinked several times as if he'd been struck dumb.

What?

That wasn't...

There was no way...

Was that a serious request?

She was being facetious—she had to be. It was the only explanation, unless Raven was somehow messing with his mind and Damian sincerely doubted that. But how could she ask him this with such bold-faced sincerity? Even if the wooden arch behind her housed a funhouse mirror and had been reflecting distorted proportions back at her. Or was there actually some warped reality in which they weren't looking at the same picture?

Although...

If he could muster up a voice to speak he would have asked, what outfit?

Lackadaisically, she trailed a hand down her body, tugging at the cups spilled over with supple skin. "The bra—do you like the pattern?" Raven traced the gorge between the swell of her breasts. "It's tulle and...French lace," she confirmed, squeezing the scant, semi-sheer embroidery molded to her chest. And Damian grimaced as though in physical pain.

"No?" she assessed, seemingly marking off boxes on a mental checklist. Raven smoothed her hands over her hips for a moment, appearing to be lost in thought. She paced slowly, revolving a full three-hundred and sixty degrees to pause with her back to him.

"And what about..." She swept a purple curtain over the nape of her neck to glance over her shoulder and he saw—of all things—a bow below the dimples on her back, nestled into the heart-shaped curve of her ass. "My panties...?"

Damian gritted his teeth, though not before letting a sound escape, like a hiss coupled with a wince.

"Are these okay?" The soft profile of her lips pressed.

Gods, it was almost as if she were seeking to offer all of this up to him. And who needed to clarify anything when she was all wrapped up and presented? Covered in the finest cardstock wrappings in gold-flecked marble, then laced up with champagne silk ribbon to await her unravelling.

Though his own would be more likely.

Right now, he'd forsake all his names, both Wayne and Al Ghul to get her to stop. Stop slinking closer, stop speaking in that sweet, scratchy undertone, and stop directing his focus to her various attributes, more than it already was.

It would only make his growing pain more pronounced.

A pale hand dangled down and spread across a smooth, silken thigh. "My stockings, then?" Raven hummed.

Though, Damian didn't speak. He wasn't entirely certain he was still breathing. Somehow, he'd managed to remain motionless and drag his unwilling eyes toward the floor. All his carefully constructed control was necessary to keep himself calm and centered in this moment. He could do this—he had to do this. Otherwise, what was the point of all those long years of training he'd endured?

Shiny purple strands bobbed; she'd started to shake her head slowly at the stony silence from the stoic cashmere wall standing before her, as if she expected as much.

"I bet you're still wondering why I called you here." Damian heard her voice go up in the middle, which it did whenever she was apprehensive or unsure. "I wanted you here to find out what you like—exactly what you like." When he arrived, Raven was blushing a delicious pink, so by now it had to be a violent red. "I wanted to get it right because...you're the first person, or only person I've ever been intimate with in any world, dimension, or universe..." She lingered.

And once again, Damian said nothing, and she resumed speaking.

"I do know that this is something that one does traditionally." Raven paused to worry her already cherry-red bottom lip. "That couples do... Buying underwear for your significant other is supposed to be something special, particularly for this holiday."

He was a mountain, immobile, unwavering...

"Oh, I see..." Her mouth set into a line. "Perhaps, it's the fit—or is it the color...?" Raven's large amethyst eyes swept over the room and landed on her reflection. "I thought dark red was classic. I knew I shouldn't have listened to Donna. I should have gotten something in black." She dragged a distraught hand through dark purple. "It's too much...or maybe it's not enough..."

"Don't," Damian growled low. His inflection was level and gave nothing away. If Raven was surprised by the outburst, she didn't let on, instead she continued.

"I bet the old string of socialites shuffling in and out of the manor were never caught dead in skivvies that weren't Kiki de Montparnasse or at least Agent Provocateur. But this..." Raven lifted her chin toward the mirror. "It's not your taste though, is it?"

That was far more than enough.

Far more than he could stand to hear and far more than he could stand to bear.

When his eyes flew back to hers at last, they weren't steely anymore, they burned—whittling her retinas down like they were wicks on candlesticks. As if he were all but telling her he dared her to do that again, to say that again.

"It's okay. I'm glad I found out before I bought—"

"I said...don't." Damian placed his hands on her wrists and whisked her right up to his chest. And he closed his eyes. He skimmed his lips along the length of hers like it was something sacred, his mouth trembling as Raven muffled out a note denoting her surprise.

He murmured to her, "you're brilliant, deadly beautiful—an empath...and for some reason unbeknownst to me, I'm your blindspot." Damian sighed resolutely. "But Raven, can't you take pity on me? I'm still a man." One that had been barely keeping it together since he arrived, but... "And you're you, so..."

There was no way in any world, dimension, or universe that he could ever resist.

Purple eyes grew wider as he told her and lifted a finger to her chin. Then it was Damian turning the tables and tipping her mouth towards his own. And though he hungered for her, he took slow and sweet and gentle grazes. It was tortuous, but he should only have a little at a time. This was an excess of an impossibly decadent dessert, an indulgence he was undeserving of. It was like the power in his sub zero freezer had short-circuited and he had no choice but to guzzle down that buried pint of vanilla caramel gelato.

Though who could blame him for being greedy when he had all of this spread out before him? And when her ass in those panties even resembled two round, creamy spoonfuls.

To hell with it then.

Damian lunged, face forward, longing for more of her. In an instant, he was inhaling her pulse, intaking the scent of leather-bound books with aged pages and the nectar from plums she'd probably narrowly avoided dripping on them. He dipped his tongue along the hollow of her collarbone as if he sought to test this.

"Mmm, that's nice."

"Nice?" Damian scoffed, his eyes on hers. "That's not what I was going for. Surely you didn't wear this because you wanted me to be nice." At the present, he wanted nothing more than to rip the tiny pieces of lace into twos, but Raven had selected them specifically for him. So he would continue to be patient and continue to savor this.

Let the pieces of fabric hold up for as long as he could hold out.

"Wait a moment," Raven gasped, quickly clutching his arm. "So your present...?"

"Present? Tch..." Damian's lip curled under his front teeth and he let out a piercing click. "If you're seriously considering getting me a present..." His palms glided down her chest and he gathered a scoop of softness in either hand. "Then these are perfect," he whispered in her ear.

And then Damian's mouth pushed back into hers and he was kissing her in ways that would make it impossible to return this lingerie after trying it on. He nipped urgently to gain entrance to her castle, then trapped her lip between his teeth like it was a drawbridge, at last releasing her tongue to collide with his own. All the while, his thumbs were sliding over her nipples, which puckered and pointed at his touch. He pushed up the cups of her bra for better access, head inclined towards his goal, soon to be met by a full mouth.

Each brush of his lips on Raven's chest made her fingers clench further and further into his shirt like it was a life preserver, and she was in danger of losing herself to the depths.

And after all, wasn't this the answer that she'd wanted from this—that she needed from him?

A chance to lose herself.

To stand in a dressing room in his arms, moaning his name like a breathy spell, her body bending until her back was arched under the avid swipes of tongue. He tugged her nipples between his teeth and they reddened, their response a glowing rave.

Yes.

Raven's eyelids squeezed, her pink face contorting in pleasure while Damian enjoyed the full weight of her breasts in his hands. He continued polishing the plush, pink rings. Left then right—until they were glistening.

"Gods, Damian..." Raven groaned. "Just—"

Just as sudden, there was a wet noise, a slip of suction. Damian had released a rosy nipple, taking note of Raven's expression. Hungry and dazed, and all his doing. Whether unconsciously or not, she pressed her legs together, clenching them as she watched Damian slip off the left sleeve of his coat and let it crumple to the ground in a heap.

The glaze of her gaze, her diaphragm's continuous rise and fall, her fingers digging into his arm, she needed this.

So why deny her?

"Yes, these are beautiful..." He whispered as he admired his handiwork under the chandelier light. The way the red nips and bites were like Damian Wayne watermarks upon the pale flesh. "But perhaps..." Damian's hands glided freely down the small of her back, just over the hill of her ass and stroked the burgundy bow, like an X marking the spot. "This."

When Damian glanced down at Raven, she was barely biting back another mewl, and moving restlessly in his arms. "I wonder what would happen if I were to pull this bow... Raven what do you think?"

"Damian... We shouldn't..." Raven murmured, sounding somewhat apprehensive and holding the fabric at his back tightly.

"Yes, we should Raven," he rasped darkly. "Right now, I can't seem to think of a reason why not..."

"Well, there's the fact that we're in public—"

"Public," Damian repeated flatly. "What of it? The outside world ceased to exist the second I entered the door of my own little version of Narnia."

Raven's jaw had unhinged in unmasked shock and Damian supposed this was an instance to take her remaining breath away by kissing her. Yes, he'd walked through a door and suddenly he was laying eyes on his half-naked demoness dangerous in dark red. So clearly nothing else in creation mattered.

When he pulled away her lips opened and closed, while her eyes remained shut, like a thirsty traveler prematurely cut off from a longer drink. And even though it seemed her body knew the truth, a darker part of him wanted her to beg for it.

"But, that's not what I asked," he said with a hard smile that wasn't. Damian drummed a divot on her lower back. "I fear I've gotten ahead of myself again. Tell me about the bow, Raven. What happens if I pull it?" His hand jutted out, he made a motion with his fingers, in mimicry of it.

"Why ask when you know the answer?" Raven asked him, her brow rising shakily.

"I could have asked you the same earlier. But..."

"But?"

Raven bit her lip but made no motion to stop his hands from climbing onto the curve of her ass. He taunted her twice, by tugging lightly on the tulle, until at last... The bow in the back came loose, and her panties slid down her legs with ease. She secured one pale thigh tightly over the other to hide herself.

No bottoms and bra half-undone, she was nothing short of delicious.

Though that scrap of fabric had barely covered much of anything, so why bother to tease? Or hadn't that been the sole purpose of this outfit?

A devious smirk sidled onto Damian's face as he realized something: these were the exact kind of underwear that one put on simply to take off.

"I pulled the bow, Raven," he murmured almost mockingly. "Don't I at least get to see the rest of my present?"

She stared up at him through her soot colored lashes and slowly opened her thighs.

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jipuragi · 3 years

Text

la nostra casetta (our little house)

Summary:

“An Italian child can cook better than him.” Vincenzo cast a disapproving look in Chef Toto’s direction.

“Does that mean you can cook too?” Chayoung playfully nudged his knee under the table.

“You never asked,” he shrugged before taking a delicate bite of kimchi.

Ship: Hong Chayoung x Vincenzo Cassano (Gen)

Word Count: 2876, AO3 link

A/N: Written by @soulofevil and @the-marathon-continues-nip , beta’d by @sunalsolove , banner by @acerobbiereyes

“I can’t believe we’re eating kimchi fried rice at an Italian restaurant,” Chayoung commented as she lifted her chopsticks to her mouth, laden with rice. “Mmm, it’s delicious.” She ate her bite then eagerly dug in again. “Chef Toto is an amazing cook.”

Vincenzo snorted as he carefully picked away the mushrooms and placed them to the side.

“He’s passable at Korean food. Terrible at that contrivance he calls Italian.” Vincenzo cast a disapproving look in Chef Toto’s direction. “An Italian child can cook better than him.”

“Does that mean you can cook too?” She playfully nudged his knee under the table. “And why hasn’t the great Vincenzo Cassano offered to make spaghetti for his dearest partner Hong Chayoung? Hmm?” She folded her arms in mock anger.

“You never asked,” he shrugged before taking a delicate bite of kimchi.

“It’s a date then. You cook, I’ll bring the wine,” Chayoung lifted her water glass in a salute. “Call me when you get home.”

“Hey, you can’t pick the wine,” Vincenzo said, sitting up straight. “You’d probably get something French.”

Chayoung’s heart skipped a beat when she realized he didn’t argue about it being a date. “What’s wrong with French wine?” she asked, eager to change the subject. She could feel her cheeks burning. “Don’t they make the best red wine?”

Vincenzo’s chopsticks clattered to the table, thankfully oblivious to her blushing.

“The French make the best red wine?” He raised his voice at the horror of it all. “Do they make the best pasta dishes too? Why would I want French wine with Italian food?”

Chayoung couldn’t help but lean forward, placing her elbows on the table to watch him fondly. Vincenzo was always so attractive when he was engrossed in a subject he loved, whether it was fighting or talking about food and wine.

After agreeing to cook for Cha-young, Vincenzo now had the dilemma of what to cook.

He took stock of the contents of his refrigerator, wanting to put his imported Italian goods to use but unfortunately, he didn’t have much.

Babel kept them busy and restocking his luxury items had been pushed to the wayside.

But didn’t his adopted mother always say that the best dishes were often the simplest?

Inspiration struck and he began moving around in his small kitchen, pulling out the flour, eggs, olive oil, and salt.

It was a simple recipe, one he’d been making since he was a Korean-only speaking youth, and needed to stand on a chair to reach the countertop.

His adopted family used cooking as a chance for them to bond and teach him those Italian words that had felt so foreign in his mouth. Soon, mixing and kneading the dough had grown into a simple but pleasant experience, one that had become a weekly habit in Italy.

Maybe that was part of the reason he was feeling at ease now?

He hadn’t bothered cooking anything that required more work than boiling water since coming to Korea but now, as he tossed flour onto the counter and worked his hands into the dough, he felt different. Until recently his apartment had been little more than a hotel room, a temporary place to sleep until he could obtain his gold while he and Ms. Hong fought Babel.

His kneading slowed as he thought about Chayoung, a ghost of a smile touching his lips. She frequently crossed his mind these days making him feel... lighter. It was a foreign feeling that he couldn’t name yet but found pleasant and refreshing.

He dropped the dough before he could overwork it and wrapped it in plastic so it could rest, and then moved on to start his prep work for the carbonara and the scene for dinner. With an eye on the clock, he sent a quick text to Chayoung telling her to arrive in an hour before he settled back into the kitchen.

Running on autopilot Vincenzo went to work mincing shallots and garlic while remembering his earlier conversation with Chayoung.

She’d called this a date, maybe setting out a candle would be appropriate? It was also cliche as hell and she’d probably make fun of him, but he wanted to make her happy, to feel just a fraction of the warmth he did when he was in her presence. He smiled softly, glad to be in the privacy of his apartment so he could be alone with his thoughts and away from the rest of Geumga Plaza.

His smile disappeared, and his eyes widened in horror. Would Chayoung compare his table setting to Chef Toto’s garish setup?

A small sigh escaped him as he moved onto the next step of dinner. He didn’t question how Chayoung would react to their revenge plans against Babel which involved actual murder but something as simple as a candle for dinner made him… nervous?

It was such an unfamiliar feeling after being the Cassano consigliere for so long.

The alarm on his phone went off as a timer he didn’t even remember setting finished. He stared at it blankly before shaking his head, half an hour had already passed and he didn’t even notice.

He finished dicing up the pancetta and turned his eyes to the resting pasta. Asking ‘Chef’ Toto for his pasta machine would’ve saved him time but his pride demanded that he do it by hand, especially for Chayoung.

Besides, it was easy enough that he could go back to thinking about Chayoung, a soft smile returning to his face.

Chayoung loved alcohol and would drink soju, beer, and makgeolli, but she didn’t know much about wine.

It bothered her that Vincenzo didn’t think she was sophisticated enough to know what wine to choose, so she took it as a challenge.

She was going to surprise him with the best Italian wine.

Chayoung remembered Vincenzo saying that the wine store near her house was better stocked than the one near Jipuragi. Initially, she’d thought he was merely giving an excuse to walk her home but he did have a point.

The wine store in her neighborhood was a large one that stocked drinks from all over the globe.

“ Sforzato di Valtellina,” her tongue tripped over the Italian. According to the label, it was an intensely scented red wine that had an interesting origin of Nebbiolo grapes that had been left to wither.

Wasn’t that like her and Vincenzo? On the outskirts of society, left for dead as outsiders?

She bought the bottle of red wine, and white wine, just in case.

The knock at the door was right on time.

“The door’s open!” Vincenzo made sure he was loud enough to be heard, too engaged at the stove to leave it. He did take a look behind him, not wanting to miss Chayoung’s animated reaction to the amazing smells filling his apartment.

He wasn’t disappointed.

“Omo!” Chayoung sniffed the air dramatically as she entered Vincenzo’s apartment. She eagerly kicked off her shoes in the foyer and slipped into house slippers. “Am I at a Mafia’s house, or an Italian Chef? It smells delicious!”

“Don’t be silly,” he grumbled, stirring the pot, though his mouth curved upward in a smile.

“If Babel puts us out of business, we can always open up an Italian stall in the night market.” Chayoung stepped into the kitchen. “You can cook behind the scenes, and since I’m the pretty one, I’ll attract customers and sell.”

“Are you finished with your wishful thinking?” Vincenzo asked, rolling his eyes, though he agreed with her assessment that she was the pretty one.

“Never.” She poked his side and eagerly peered at the pot on the stove. “Can I taste?”

“No, it’s not finished.” Vincenzo batted her hand away though it was more playful than anything. “What’s that?” He gestured to the bags she’d left on the table.

“I hope you like it.” Chayoung blushed, uncharacteristically shy. “I wasn’t sure what to get,” she mumbled, tucking her hair behind her ear, feeling self-conscious. “I don’t usually drink wine and-”

“Don’t worry. I’ll like it,” Vincenzo said softly. His heart skipped a beat, as it always did when Chayoung seemed vulnerable. He wanted to hold her, to reassure her that everything was okay, and he’d never make her feel inadequate.

He helped her unpack the bags. “You bought Italian wine and not French?” His slight smile turned into a grin. “And two bottles?”

“And soju. And makgeolli. Just in case.” Chayoung’s cheeks were flaming now because she felt silly.

“It’s perfect,” Vincenzo said, not taking his eyes off her. “Thank you.”

She dipped her head in acknowledgment, then changed the subject.

“So, if times get tough, can we cook Inzhagi, or is he a family member now?”

Vincenzo couldn’t move two steps without Chayoung being behind him. She wanted to see what he was doing, taste the sauce along the way, whilst commenting on the process.

Normally, he was able to adapt to her being around, but this time, he was getting nervous.

Suppose he didn’t cook it correctly?

Suppose he did it right, but it wasn't to her taste?

Suppose-

“Ooh, Mr. Cassano, are these candles?” Chayoung interrupted his thoughts.

Vincenzo turned around. Chayoung was at the dining table, holding the tea light candles he’d fished out from a drawer, probably left there by the previous tenant.

“Are you planning to seduce me?” she smirked. “How naughty!”

“Ms .Hong -”

“They’re scented,” she made a show of holding the candles and sniffing them. There were about half a dozen of them, in an opened package, smelling faintly of vanilla. “How romantic!” She scrunched her nose at him playfully.

Vincenzo didn’t even hide his smile as she meandered off. He was happy and enjoying it. Just then, the timer for the pasta began beeping, and attention diverted, he left her to her own devices.

While he was distracted with marking dinner, Chayoung slipped into his bedroom, looking for a lighter.

His room was dark, smelling faintly of Vincenzo’s cologne and her breath caught, wondering if he’d thought of her in his bedroom if he ever thought of her as he showered and dressed. Her gaze moved to his bed, tucked in the corner, plain and neat as a pin, and begging to be messed up.

Unbidden, an image formed in her mind.

One of her leading Vincenzo to the bed and making him sit quietly, hands to his side so he could watch her slowly disrobe.

Would he like to be teased? Or would he prefer to take the lead, pushing her on the bed and pinning her arms above her head, kissing her deep and rough, like he wanted to-

“Lighters are on my dresser. If that’s what you’re looking for.”

Chayoung yelped, almost dropping the candle. Vincenzo was right beside her, watching her intently.

“Of course that’s what I’m looking for,” she gathered her wits. “Why else would I be in your bedroom?”

“Why else indeed,” he smirked, as he gestured to his dresser, on the other side of the room. “Make yourself at home.” He abruptly turned and left.

Chayoung’s face flushed. He couldn’t have guessed her thoughts, could he?

But she forgot about her embarrassment when she came across his lighter collection.

“How beautiful,” she breathed.

There were six golden lighters set upon a navy blue cloth with different sheens from bright lusters, to worn patinas. She gravitated towards the one that looked like a pocket watch, as it was the only round one, but then she noticed the plain lighter with no engraving. It wasn’t as eye-catching as the rest.

It made her think.

When did Vincenzo start collecting lighters? What made him choose one above the other? Did they have to be gold? If she gifted him with a lighter, would he accept it?

She chose the plain one, then returned to the kitchen where the pasta was already drained, the sauce finished, and Vincenzo was now setting the table.

Chayoung’s chest tightened as she clutched his lighter and blinked back tears.

She remembered life before her mother passed away, and the mundane things that made them a family. Cooking her father’s favorite food, and buying her mother’s favorite dessert, and spending time together in their kitchen.

How did it all go wrong, where she was now an orphan and alone?

Just then Vincenzo looked up, his eyes widening in alarm as he saw her face, before softening.

“Light the candles, Ms. Hong?” he asked, gently. “While I pour the wine?”

She nodded, choked up.

With the food done, wine poured, and Chayoung lighting the candles, the atmosphere was almost set for their evening.

The silence between them was a comfortable one, however, Vincenzo wanted more to fill his apartment.

His music library was limited to the soundtracks of his favorite operas, one of the few comforts he’d allowed himself when he was homesick for Italy. Some Wagner, a Mozart, but it was Pucci’s Tosca that his fingers settled on.

It was hard to pick a favorite opera but Tosca was easily his favorite soundtrack.

He put it on, turning down the volume so it would fill the background with the pleasant soprano of the titular Tosca before taking his seat across from Chayoung.

She smiled warmly, her eyes sparkling, and his breath caught. This was life and joy, and he wanted to experience every moment.

He picked slowly at his food, twirling his fork in the pasta, eating at a leisurely pace.

“This is so good,” Chayoung moaned, closing her eyes. “You’re such a good cook.” She opened her eyes, grinning mischievously. “What else are you good at, Mr. Cassano?”

Vincenzo took a sip of wine as his heart thudded.

“I made this for you , so I’m glad you like it.” He avoided her flirtatious question, raising his glass in a toast, though his face grew warm. “I want you to be happy.”

Her smile faltered as her gaze drifted to his lips, and then his hands which were clutching his wine glass.

“I love it,” she said, dipping her head before she attacked her pasta again.

The tea lights had burned down and the first bottle of wine had been finished off along with the carbonara when Vincenzo and Chayoung moved to the couch bringing the second bottle of wine.

Music played softly in the background, filling the comfortable silence that stretched out between them. He was at ease, not just physically but mentally and emotionally as well. It had been a long time since he had felt this level of peace with another person and Cha-young…

She was something special.

He didn’t know the words to describe how she made him feel or the way she affected him. But Vincenzo knew he wasn’t ready for her to leave just yet, even as their drinking slowed and Cha-young’s head rested on the back of the couch with her eyes closed.

It was foolish to sit there, savoring the way she looked like he savored the Sforzato in his glass but he had no choice.

She looked peaceful in that half-asleep state with only a small frown resting on her lips and not all the tension and worry of the Babel case etched on her features.

“What are we listening to?”

He tried not to jump when she spoke up, masking his surprise with a hum. Cha-young didn’t seem to notice as she continued on.

“It sounds terribly depressing and sad. I can’t imagine how bleak the words must be.”

Vincenzo chuckled softly, she wasn’t wrong.

“It’s Pucci’s Tosca ,” he said. “We’ve been listening to it since dinner started.”

“No wonder I’m sleepy now,” Chayoung snorted, snuggling close to Vincenzo, her head laying on his shoulder.

“I can turn it off,” Vincenzo offered. He settled into the couch, making room for Chayoung, and following her lead, he wrapped his hand around her waist so she could cuddle closer to his side.

“No. I can like it ‘cause you do.” Chayoung melted into his side, closing her eyes. “Stay.”

Vincenzo exhaled as he looked down, her silky hair fanned across his chest, and her long eyelashes dark against her cheeks. He gave in to the feelings of tenderness that had been creeping up all evening and letting it wash over him.

“I’ll stay as long as you want me to,” he murmured. It was hard for him, letting his guard down, and being vulnerable. But he would do it for her.

“I think I could fall in love with you, Mr. Cassano,” Chayoung whispered, burrowing even more into him. She was now laying on his chest, listening to his heartbeat, her legs tucked under her as she fell into a deep sleep.

And just like that, Vincenzo knew that his plans had to change, that he couldn’t leave Korea without considering this woman who’d been at his side, showing him light and love, and a better way to live.

He stroked her arm, waiting for her breathing to even out, and when she started lightly snoring, he smiled, closing his eyes and resting his head on hers.

“I’m already in love with you,” he confessed, deliberately speaking in Italian.

Curling up into the couch, and around Chayoung, he fell asleep as well.

#chayenzo fanfic #vincenzo #vincenzo kdrama #hong cha young #vincenzo cassano

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fowl-fox · 3 years

Text

The Ivy, and After

(Yes, it’s another Artemis Fowl fanfic I’m writing that focuses on the lesser-liked Artemis Fowl, but also Angeline. All the same, I hope you’ll give it a read and let me know what you think.)

Artemis Senior gripped the ladder’s rung with such force that the wood creaked. He opened his mouth to speak, but then seemed to change his mind.

Now Artemis himself grew worried. “Father, you must tell me.”

“Of course,” said his father with a start, as if just remembering where he was. “I must tell you...” A tear fell from his eye, dropping onto his shirt, deepening the blue. “I remember when I first saw your mother,” he said. “I was in London, at a private party in The Ivy. A room full of scoundrels, and I was the biggest one in the bunch. She changed me, Arty. Broke my heart then put it together again. Angeline saved my life. Now . . .” (Artemis Fowl: The Time Paradox)

Part One:

Artemis Fowl did not so much enjoy parties these days. He tolerated them.

Perhaps a few years ago, he’d be having a decent time. These big money functions may not be known for being particularly lively, but the food and drink was almost always divine, and there were always connections and deals to be made, far away from the eyes and ears of the common rabble. His father had taught him how to make many a beneficial deal over the years, but it was his mother who had really shown him just how to enamor himself with his peers for selfish gains. The cunning french woman had possessed a way with words and behavior that endeared everyone to her, and when he was younger he would watch carefully as she even managed to endear his openly bitter, despicable father to others.

But she would not be at these parties with him anymore. Instead, across the table sat his father with his second wife. The attractive and decently clever middle-aged woman wasn’t the real reason for his parent’s messy divorce in his late teenage years, but she was the reason his mother would no longer attend these functions on her own.

The Fowl family and their bodyguards had momentarily retreated from the crowd so Mr. Fowl could rest- his health had been declining steadily in the past few years. Artemis watched with a degree of exasperation as his stepmother feigned sympathy for his father’s fatigue with a delicate hand on his shoulder and a bat of her eyelashes. He did not hate the woman, but he felt no warmth for her. Overall, her presence was inconsequential. His father was too entrenched in tradition to give away his only remaining son’s inheritance to the woman who was comfortably riding out the last few years of his life. Once his father finally passed, she’d move on to the next opportunity, and Artemis doubted he’d see or hear much of her again. His father brushed her hand away, lighting a cigarette while complaining about the humidity in the room.

Deciding it best to turn his attention to anywhere else, Artemis lit a cigarette as well and casually looked about the room at the other party-goers who had separated themselves from the larger congregation in the center. An old oil baron sleepily reclined at the table next to them, a heavily chewed but unlit cigar dangerously close to falling from his lips. A little further down, two very old women occupied themselves by snidely commenting on the state of the party over wine. One of them clocked his gaze and sniffed haughtily, and Artemis respectfully held back a sneer before purposefully turning his attention to the other side of the room.

That was when he saw her.

She was a slim woman. Elegant, dressed in a dark blue evening gown that was the definition of tasteful yet alluring. Her facial features stood out to him among the many other women he’d seen at the party that night. Her cheekbones were high and pronounced; her nose could not be described as petite, but he realized that it was attractive in its own right. Artemis wished he could make out the color of her eyes. Were they green? Brown? Hazel? The light made it impossible to tell from where he currently sat.

A delicate gold chain fell around her neck and into the dip of her pronounced collarbone. Her bare arms were thin, but toned, and Artemis’ gaze followed from her shoulders down to her strong wrists and long fingers that made him wonder if she played piano. The rest of her body was obscured by the table she sat at, so he allowed himself to look back up at her face, and her hair.

Heaven, he thought. Her hair.

Her hair color danced along the fine line between blonde and brunette, and in an unexpected moment of primal lust, Artemis imagined those silky tresses curtaining his face as he nipped at the soft skin of her neck. He imagined those toned arms wrapped around his torso, her long, thin fingers trailing up and down his back before running through his hair as he worked his own hands down, down, down...

The young heir ashed his cigarette over the crystal ashtray and looked away, discretely flexing his thighs under the table and praying that nobody near him would notice the flush he felt blooming on his pale face.

“Are you feeling well, Artemis?”

Artemis silently cursed his stepmother as his father turned his dull grey eyes over to him.

“Perfectly fine, Margaret. A bit warm, that’s all.”

“Hmm,” hummed Aodh Fowl, “Is that all?”

Artemis clenched his jaw. It was a habitual response to stress and anxiety that was (and forever would be) the ruin of many a night-guard. He knew when his father was purposefully pushing his buttons. He sometimes wondered if the old man considered it friendly.

“Yes, sir. Please excuse me.”

Artemis had decided retreat was his best option to avoid further stress. It would do no good to be poked and prodded into losing his temper at such a crowded event. He continued to excuse himself through the crowd of aristocrats and socialites idly chatting over champagne and cigarettes. He knew without seeing that his bodyguard was following him. Reaching the bar, he requested glass of water and tried to calm his nerves.

Looking throughout the crowd, he saw her again, this time no longer seated. An angel, he thought, as she gracefully wove her way towards the bar. A rare feeling of panic pooled in his stomach. He immediately wished his water was scotch, or even a glass of wine. Anything to somewhat quell the anxiety that threatened to overwhelm him.

Too late, he thought, as he realized that not only was she headed towards the bar, she was headed towards him. And soon enough, she was before him. Like a man suddenly face to face with a growling tiger, he dared not move.

“May I ask your name?”

Her voice was soft, silky. He immediately wanted to hear it again.

“Of course.” he responded, praying to gods that he did not really believe in that his voice would remain steady. Now that she stood directly before him, her beauty threatened to swallow him whole and spit out his bones. He resisted the overwhelming urge to take in the entirety of her figure. His mother would have pinched him if he had behaved so poorly, and even in her absence he feared that pinch of disapproval, almost as much as he had feared his father’s hands before age and illness took their toll.

“My name is Artemis.”

“That’s an interesting name.” She smiled, and Artemis felt his heart catch fire in his chest.

“What is your name?” he asked, realizing he had never cared more in his life for an answer.

“Angeline.”

Angeline. Angeline. It was perfect. It was deserved! An angel on earth, a beautiful creature from the heavens whose presence and beauty struck fear into his mortal soul.

“It suits you well,” he swallowed, deciding to take a bold risk. Her smile widened, and triumph fed the flame in his heart. It threatened to consume him, to burn him thoroughly inside and out. And it was wonderful! God, it was wonderful. In the twenty-four years of his affection-starved life he had never wanted for anything more than this woman to look at him warmly.

“Your last name is ‘Fowl’, isn’t it?” she asked. She looked him over, before settling back on his strikingly bright eyes. She snorted, and somehow managed to do so delicately.

“That suits you very well.”

Her smile vanished, and instantly the flame in his heart was extinguished. What was left was only a brittle, burnt lump that was crumbled into ash in her elegant hands.

“I’ve heard all about your family,” she continued, ignoring his desperate glacier blue eyes as he silently begged forgiveness from the angel he’d just met. “And I saw you staring earlier. So I want to be very clear. Keep your eyes to yourself.”

And then she was gone, weaving gracefully back through the crowd towards her table.

Despite the crowded room, Artemis felt completely alone.

---

Artemis did not speak to anyone else for the rest of the night. Even his father, who normally didn’t care about his son’s emotional state, seemed to know better than to ask about his silence. When the family returned to Ireland, he immediately immersed himself in the ever-increasing workload his ailing father left up to him, resolving to forget the angel that destroyed the hope he had foolishly allowed himself that night. And he almost did, until nearly a year later, when he saw her once again.

---

This is the end of Part One! I give no promise as to when Part Two will be finished and posted. I have an important surgery coming up very soon and I have no clue how much I feel up to writing anything. Thank you for reading.

#artemis fowl #artemis fowl fanfiction #fowl senior #angeline fowl #fowldom

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