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Marinette lived and breathed fashion design. It wasn’t a secret nor a fact people didn’t know. In fact, it was one of the first things people learned about her; that and her long-standing adoration for all things pink and polka-dotted. While she had her own style when it came to designing, a certain flavour that could be observed in every stitch and drawn line, she always loved to challenge herself and create or coordinate an outfit completely antithetical to her personal flairs.
This was the perfect opportunity for her.
It was a completely inconspicuous request. A stray DM among dozens in her fashion blog’s inbox but Marinette knew that this was going to be the fashion challenge she yearned for. The request was for a series of outfits for an apprenticing journalist who would be attending New York Fashion week in a few months. The requestor was from a young man named Connor ‘Kon’ Kent and a quick internet search revealed that he was the son of the reporter, Clark Kent, and the stepson of renowned global journalist, Lois Lane.
There were a lot of things asked for in the request, from choice of colours, to desired jewellery, and Marinette felt sparks of creativity she hadn’t felt since she started styling and designing for super rockstar, Jagged Stone. There were many things Marinette wanted to do but not enough time to do it even with the deadline being months away.
First step was an initial consultation with her new client.
Arranging the meeting was easy, a quick reply here and a zoom meeting there was all it took before Marinette was standing face-to-face to the hottest person she has ever seen. And she’s seen actual models.
She was wholly unprepared to see him in person as photos from his internet profiles and the grainy video quality from their online meeting did him no justice. Fluffy black hair that blended into a sharp fade with an even sharper jawline. Piercing blue eyes with a more steel-like quality than hers and…was that eyeliner? Marinette was shameless enough to admit that she had a thing for guys in eyeliner. That of course did nothing to distract her from how much metal was on this guy’s face. From the eyebrow piercing to the peeks of a tongue piercing and the rows of studs that decorated his ears. All of that was just the preview to even more metal as spikes from his black leather jacket lined his very broad shoulders all the way down his very toned arms, ending at his wrists where multiple rings sat comfortably around sturdy fingers.
Marinette felt slightly faint, her throat dry and her brain vacating from the space between her ears.
“It’s nice to finally meet you in person, Ms. Marinette.” His voice was like the crunch of autumn leaves and the burn of bonfire smoke, ashy and intoxicating.
“Likewise, Mr. Connor.” She had to jumpstart her brain to not trip over those words, mind running slow like molasses. Cute guys were going to be the death of her it seemed.
“Please,” he said, arm outstretched for a handshake. “Like I said during our video call, I prefer to go by Kon.”
“Then call me Marinette,” she gripped his offered hand and returned the stronger the expected shake. Clearly his muscles weren’t just for show.
One meeting led to two as the months bled into each other. Now at the height of summer, Marinette and Kon had worked together to construct an entire catalogue of outfits. Daywear, eveningwear, outfits for the afterparties and everything in between. All that was left were the final fittings.
Which led to Marinette’s current predicament.
“Have you gotten beefier?” Her bewilderment left little room for her usual professionalism that she had just managed to get under control during the months of their acquaintanceship. Their initial politeness bloomed into a budding friendship that she hoped to maintain after the commission was fulfilled. Kon stood in the middle of her boutique’s showroom, arms outstretched and about to bust through the seams of the navy blue suit jacket. It was one of her personal favourites, silver stitching and faux zippers to shimmer under flashing lights, with the asymmetrical hem that complemented the extra padding in the shoulders. It was designed to accentuate his already sharp figure but now Kon looked like he was unfortunately stuffed into the suit. And not in any way flattering.
“Maybe?” He replied. He too seemed utterly baffled by the added muscle he gained as if it were anyone else’s but his own doing. “I never noticed with my other clothes.”
“Really?” The disbelief was thick.
“Really.” He looked like a kicked puppy and Marinette already felt her soft heart bleeding out forgiveness. She once again cursed herself and her weakness to cute guys.
“No worries,” she tried, forcing as much Ladybug resilience as she could to not delve into a full panic at the thought of retailing all of the clothes. “Let’s just see how all the other clothes fit and then we can decide on a new plan of action.”
“You’re the boss.”
One after the other, jacket on top of jacket entered the pile to be altered and Marinette’s hopes of finishing this in time diminished concurrently. Nothing fit the way they were supposed to. Every ripped seam, every popped button, and every torn stitch. How did one guy gain that much muscle since his last fitting? Was he a professional body-builder? But no, this whole thing started because he was an apprenticing journalist. Alya certainly never bulked up this quickly when Marinette fitted her for similar events so what was this guy’s deal? It would be absolutely hilarious if her work wasn’t at risk.
She needed options. And quick.
She observed Kon as he made his way through the final pieces of clothes. She watched as his biceps flexed and extended under the fibres of his compression shirt. She watched as his shoulder blades rolled and expanded like wings. She watched as his body unfolded like a blooming flower and suddenly ideas were raining down on her.
“I got it!” She yelled, jumping out of her seat and rushing for the steadily growing pile of clothes. Then she collected her scissors and avoided crashing over her chaise that wasn’t even in the way.
She spent the next few hours in a daze, snipping and restitching garments together, switching one material for the other and running back and forth between her sewing table and Kon himself. She may have gotten a bit handsy with her hasty measurement taking– and she will definitely revisit those moments only in her dreams– but for now she was too preoccupied with the voices in her head directing her to create, create, create.
What was most certainly the next day saw Marinette still awake but putting the finishing touches on the final outfit.
“Hurry and try this on!” Decorum has long since left the boutique as Marinette tossed the thrown together outfit on the sleeping Kon. To his credit, he did not in fact laser the suit on instinct but Marinette herself would never know how close she was to losing the clothes in a pile of ashen scraps.
Kon wasted no time in changing, still being extra careful with the delicate materials, and now he posed in the center with the drapes of fabric around him.
“Good! Now pose!” Marinette instructed. She felt equal parts jittery and exhausted but her brain wouldn’t allow her to rest until she knew that everything was perfect. The piece he was wearing was inspired togas, the wrap and twist and flow of the fabric allowed for many adjustments to be made incase of any more sudden body changes in the coming weeks. Kon followed Marinette’s orders and posed, arms slightly flexing in front.
“Again.” Now he flexed his muscles, arms propped up by the side of his head. He casted Marinette a sly grin doubled with a wink, all ego and pride as the clothes flowed like water across his body…except all her attention was on how the material moved with each configuration..
“Now change.” She was in full designer mode, completely ignorant to the puppy-like pout of her client. On and on they went through every outfit planned for the week-long event.
“You know,” Kon started, carefully eyeing her as she adjusted the collar of the final shirt, “most people usually wait until the third date to get this close to me.”
That was enough to pause Marinette in her tracks, standing on the very tip of her toes, creasing her very worn sneakers, and her arms still around his neck. Blood flooded her cheeks and the heat radiating off of her could fry an egg in her embarrassment. Like a thawing icicle, she slowly turned her head only to brush her nose against the faint stubble on his chin. She stumbled back in a panic, completely blind to the fond eyes that gazed upon her as a firm grip grabbed her by the waist to prevent her from completely wiping out on her hardwood floors.
“Uhhh,” very smooth of her, truly. Righting herself, she stepped out of his grasp and composed herself properly.
“Sorry, I didn’t think you would react that badly.” She watched as he brushed off imaginary dust while she got her blood pressure under control. She had to play it cool. This wasn’t actually the first time they had been in close proximity over the course of his several fittings but she still reacted so violently to any and all of his flirty remarks. It always made her feel like a middle schooler but she was an adult, damn it, she should be able to handle it.
Pulling on some Ladybug charm, she squared her shoulders and looked him in the eye. Steel blue met ocean blue.
“No sorries needed,” with deep breaths and silent prayers to the kwamis, she powered on. “Although, a third date usually implies a first one.”
“I suppose that does,” Kon picked up on the banter, standing to his full height and looking down the slope of his nose to stare at her face. “Would you be interested?”
It felt like a challenge and that was the only way she knew she would survive. Marinette has never lost a challenge.
“That depends.” She turned around to start picking up the discarded clothes, feigning disinterest, and placing them on their respective hangers. With her back still turned she continued. “It depends on if that first date included a nice lunch at the new Greek bistro down the street.”
“That could be arranged,” he chuckled. She couldn’t see him; she knew her bravado would crumble if she did. “Name a time and I’m yours.”
She caved, eager to go out and accept this challenge she has recently posed for herself. She spun like a top and faced him with glowing eyes and a rosy blush.
“How about now?” She watched as concern crept into his features, in the crease of his brows and downturn of his lips. Before she could overthink herself into an aneurysm he responded.
“How about once you’ve slept for nine hours, hmm? Unless you’ve forgotten that I just witnessed you being up all night working on these outfits.”
Embarrassment turned her joyful blush into a burning sear across her cheeks. Giving her condition more than a second of thought allowed her to feel the exhaustion weighing her bones down. She finally noticed the burn of the bright lights on her tired, overworked eyes.
“That’s– That’s fair,” she stuttered. She tried again, not completely losing her momentum. “Then how about this weekend?”
“Saturday at noon sounds perfect to me.”
“Great,” She looked up at him from the curl of her eyelashes, hoping she looked cute but knowing she looked ten seconds fresh out of the grave. Oh well. “It’s a date then.”
“It’s a date.”
“Now take off these clothes before you rip them”
“Damn, now that sounds like a fifth date request at minimum”
“Kon!”