The first thing Marinette noticed about Kory Anders was how tall she was. Six feet, give or take, meant that Marinette had to look up at the model along with just about everyone else in the room.
It was an impressive view.
Adrien’s eating habits had left Marinette with the impression that models should be twigs, particularly women. Kory made that notion seem foolish. She was fit, without much fat in the way of padding, but not from slimming down. Instead she looked like some kind of barbarian warrior princess, her muscles clear even from a distance. That wasn’t to say that she was a bodybuilder, she didn’t bulge with muscle or anything. Rather, she reminded Marinette of a jungle cat. When she moved you could almost sense the power, but it wasn’t overbearing. It didn’t burst from underneath the skin, instead her strength seemed utterly contained underneath except for the moments when she put it to use, when you could see the grace and power coming through.
It was hypnotic, seeing the smooth interplay of her body as she moved into various positions. Kory had an innate confidence in her physicality that made even the most unintentional movements seem deliberate, and her skin seemed to reflect the glow from the vitality in her green eyes to the flare of her vibrant red hair.
If you told Marinette that Kory Anders had emerged from the Amazon jungle like Venus from the sea, arriving naked (albeit with hair wrapped around her, she certainly had enough) without a care in the world while still somehow looking flawless she’d believe you. And while Lila was a lying liar, maybe it was like broken clocks being right sooner or later because Kory genuinely did give the impression she’d emerged one day from the untamed wilds with the intention of conquering the heart of every person who saw her.
It was several things. First, the way she never used contractions or abbreviations and spoke English with a hint of an otherworldly accent. Kory also apparently picked up languages like she picked up broken hearts, because she’d been in Paris for a week now and gone, in front of Marinette’s eyes, from needing a translator to being an accomplished speaker. Well, except for the odd phrasing and accent.
Second, Kory had absolutely no shame about her body. Marinette had learned, from spending time around (stalking) Adrien and his model friends, that there was a certain bodily pragmatism required in the profession. You couldn’t really be ashamed of yourself when taking photos that would end up on gigantic billboards in the busiest sections of Paris. And after time a certain laissez faire attitude toward degrees of undress developed. When you had to switch shirts three or more times in half an hour, modesty about the process went out the window. But Kory took it to new heights, needing to be reminded several times by her camerawoman, Donna, that if she was stripping down to her underwear (when she even had it on) she had to either wait for them to put up a screen or go to the designated room. Kory didn’t even seem phased at the gentle rebuke, simply accepting the reminders with a smile, a comment about strange customs, and waiting for the screen to go up. Even then, she really didn’t seem to care if Donna saw things as several times Marinette caught the American looking away with a red face and murmuring about dick.
Evidently, she also needed a reminder she was straight when around Kory.
The fact that Kory made everything Marinette, well, MDC, created look unbelievably good was entirely unrelated. The way she’d squealed and exulted in the MDC logo below the back pocket on her custom jeans didn’t influence Marinette one bit. Particularly not when she twisted, arched her back and rolled one of her hips up so she could see it better in the mirror.
Not even when she’d tensed her… back muscles, sending a shiver down Marinette’s fingers as it created a tiny jiggle that simultaneously put the logo in better lighting for Donna’s camera and caused two of the male assistants to walk into one another like this was some children’s slapstick comedy instead of a professional shoot.
Marinette, of course, was simply excited that someone appreciated her designs. Her decision to secretly insert herself into the rest of the shoot in her absolutely vital capacity as the no-name assistant to the assistant to the assistant something or whatever had absolutely nothing to do with her sudden desire to know if Kory would find the tiny MDC stitched into the inside of her already low-cut blouse just inside the bust. Or anticipation for what the next few days might bring.
Really, it was just about seeing if Kory was the right model for her designs. Marinette hadn’t made anything for a woman of Kory’s height and physique before, and she needed to be around to keep an eye on her outfits. And anyone could make a simple pair of jeans look good, Marinette needed to know if Kory could bring out the best in her more specific and challenging outfits. Obviously, that meant paying the most attention when Kory was wearing them, that was a simple necessity.
Kory had the blouse half off when she found the logo, and upon Donna’s timely reminder that she couldn’t just take it off entirely to examine it she went back over to the mirror. Marinette, along with everyone else, was suddenly very interested in Kory’s interest in the logo. Anders bent over in front of the mirror, effortlessly smiling with such genuine delight that Donna had her camera out before she even looked up from the reflection.
She had one hand on the glass, the other holding the blouse just right to expose the logo as half her hair spilled down over her lowered shoulder. The fact that it framed the sudden addition of another handful of cleavage was entirely irrelevant and not something Marinette was looking at. Her eyes were fixed completely on the logo, and perhaps a little bit around it. She had to see how her stitching was holding up against the hands of that six-foot redhead after all. And she had to check that the blouse wasn’t moving out of position just because someone was holding it. MDC didn’t make things that couldn’t stand a little wear, she’d be professionally embarrassed if something slipped and had to monitor the neckline accordingly.
“Look Donna! It is the logo of MDC! I told you I would track it down!”
Even her voice was infectious, the genuine joy it contained made the moment less sexy and more compelling. Marinette couldn’t imagine anyone seeing Kory and wanting to merely fuck her, not that she was gay or anything. It was impossible not to want her when Kory threw her hair back and laughed in joy upon hearing Donna’s wry response. Kory wasn’t the kind of woman you could think about mere sex with, although Marinette certainly wasn’t (she was just contemplating how others might see it). She was the kind of person you thought about connecting to, and sex was the excuse to get in close.
“Praise MDC,” one of the interns murmured slack jawed next to Marinette.
They’d both paused in fetching someone or something to watch Kory. Or maybe Kory had stolen their ability to do anything else, everything that had happened since she’d started taking off her shirt was a bit of a haze to Marinette.
Kory smiled at Donna, her whole face lighting up. Then she reached for the button up Marinette had tossed in as a kind of joke to herself, wiggling off the blouse almost before Donna could throw up the screen (Marinette wasn’t disappointed by that, not at all, rather she was impressed at Donna’s quick hands) and reemerging like some Amazonian butterfly. She’d shrugged off her bra, letting her almost-orange tanned skin shine underneath the collared shirt. When she lifted her hair over her head to shake it loose, Marinette cursed herself for picking an opaque color like purple.
She’d only put it in there because with skin like Kory’s you had to get creative with color combinations! Her eyes glared at the third-from-the-top button, wishing she’d had the sense to move it another couple fingers down. It would have looked better that way, obviously, providing more of a lift instead. That was her only concern with the damn thing, it had nothing to do with the way Kory innocently asked Donna if it would make more sense to take off her jeans to emphasize just the button up.
The fact that it was long enough to cover anything was irrelevant. Marinette certainly wouldn’t be looking southward, her eyes would be fixed firmly on the shirt itself. The important part was that Donna said they’d need to ask the designer and that she’d put in a note to pass the question along to MDC.
Marinette had a plan for which outfits she wanted to get noticed. A good one, that really didn’t involve a shirt she designed for men getting modeled by the most gorgeous female model she’d ever seen (emphasis on female, she was still (kind of) certain about Adrien). She’d originally stitched it for her father, before running out of fabric (thanks Lila) and needing to turn it into a slim, tall, option that fit exactly nobody she knew. The commission from this shoot was supposed to get her enough to buy more fabric and let it out for her dad, which was now right out because she’d literally never be able to get the image of Kory Anders slowly buttoning it up out of her mind.
Marinette let out a light whimper. Definitely because her plans were torpedoed, sunk, and completely akumatized. Definitely not from the sight of Kory absentmindedly toying with one of the buttons. It would take a miraculous cure to fix her schedule if she indulged her sudden need to see more of Kory in that outfit. Or really any of the outfits she suddenly had in mind.
Marinette scurried off to a room she’d had set aside just for her in case she needed to do Ladybug things. Behind her, Kory exclaimed in a cheerful surprise as she found the location of the logo she’d stitched into the button up. Marinette had to physically force herself to keep moving and not look back, the knowledge of exactly where she’d put that logo burning a sudden flame in her mind and on her cheeks.
Instead, she focused on her side room. It had been surprisingly easy to arrange, she just told everyone someone else was using it for something important but uninteresting and viola, spare room. Donna and the other photographers thought it was a spare changing room. The models all thought it was an extra darkroom for film development. Wardrobe was under the impression it was for last minute alterations, and alterations was under the impression it was the storage space for unused wardrobe pieces.
In reality it was an on-site sketch room, designing chamber, and transformation area (not that it needed anything special to allow Marinette to say, “Spots on!”). Fortunately, Hawkmoth hadn’t turned anyone in at least a week. Since Kory arrived. Marinette knew logically that one person didn’t make that kind of difference across a whole city, after all she’d been trying to do just that for literal years, but a part of her just felt like Kory’s arrival made the whole of Paris much brighter.
She just seemed so connected to her emotions, there was no uncertainty when she felt happy to share it with others. And when she was upset, the one time Marinette had seen it happen by way of a particularly snobby agent telling her that no fashion model should weigh what she did, she wasn’t afraid to express herself and work through the emotion before moving on. Marinette hadn’t even needed to stop the butterfly trying to akumatize her, it simply hadn’t arrived fast enough before Kory was done with the negative feelings.
That kind of emotional freedom and intuitiveness, how long had Marinette wished she could have something similar? Holding herself tight in to avoid akumatization, holding all those negative feelings so they couldn’t spill over, it was exhausting sometimes. Seeing the easy way in which Kory dealt with them didn’t make her feel jealous, no she felt admiration.
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
It was inspiring. And not in the metaphorical sense, Marinette found as she sat down with a sketchpad and some needles.
Kory had such a unique color, such rare size, such understated strength, that traditional designs wouldn’t allow her to shine. Marinette realized, as she worked, that her usual designs almost subconsciously emphasized her own body type. Skinny, small, with long thin limbs. Kory wasn’t like that, and neither were a whole lot of other women out there.
She was tall. With full arms and toned muscles. Legs. Period (they earned their own sentence). Kory most certainly had legs. So, so much of them. And they deserved to be more than just hidden away, Marinette wanted to see them in the worst kind of way. See them displayed properly, that was, her interest was strictly professional.
But what really turned on Marinette’s imagination was the thought of what she could do by cannibalizing some elements from her male designs for Kory. Her body was so unfiltered and present that Marinette immediately rejected the notion of hiding it underneath loose clothing, but just as catching the edges of a panther running through the jungle gave a greater impression of the cat’s sheer grace and power, so too did Marinette want to display Kory strategically to emphasize her qualities.
A short dress that flared wide a few daring inches above the knee would create the jungle as she moved, the cacophony of dark green colors letting flashes of that vibrant skin flicker through. Thin stilettos, because Kory was a challenge thrown at the eyes of anyone watching who thought they measured up and making her taller was just the metaphorical gauntlet. And while putting a six foot woman on thin heels normally was a recipe for disaster Marinette had absolute confidence that Kory would move like a panther leaping from tree to tree with each step.
Up top Marinette repurposed one of Jagged’s leather jackets, creating a sharp contrast with the innocence of the dress that would make Kory look like the last rays of sunset against the oncoming dark sky. The look made the most of Kory’s long hair, letting it hang free and wild like the vintage Jagged Stone logo the locks fell against on her back, ending just above her hips. Together the ensemble was innocence flaming away, a good girl going bad in the best way.
And that was just the first thing Marinette worked on.
By the time she left her hermitage, it was almost midnight and everyone else was gone. And after sending a few quick texts to her parents to reassure them that she wasn’t dead in an alleyway she got prepared to head home.
Only to freeze with the sudden realization that she’d forgotten something crucially important. Kory Anders would be looking for her MDC logos. The thought of denying her the genuine pleasure she’d expressed upon finding the first set from today sent a spike of hot disappointment through Marinette. Yes, definitely disappointment. That tingling feeling was certainly not anticipation at the thought of seeing her reaction, or anything else. She couldn’t, no, wouldn’t let Kory down.
It was, clearly, just a necessary precaution. The model might process her emotions effectively but she did wear her heart on her sleeve. If Marinette disappointed her she might be akumatized, and it would be an absolute tragedy if Ladybug had to do anything that might mar her untamed body. Even if the miracle cure would restore any damage, Marinette wasn’t personally certain she could bring herself to do something like that.
And as for relying on Chat… well he tried his best (in his own, sometimes unhelpful, way) and he was a decent partner but he wasn’t infallible by a longshot. The safest thing, the only good choice now that she’d found herself in this mess, was simply to head back in and make the logos in time for tomorrow. It was just the logical choice to keep Paris safe. And that was the only thing that motivated Marinette, because she was a silent guardian. A watchful protector. Not a hero.
Definitely not a hero, because a hero certainly wouldn’t fantasize about handing someone a miraculous just for the chance to see them in a skintight jumpsuit. That would be unethical. But on the other hand, Kory paired with Roaar might make for an unbelievable combination. The tiger kwami giving her literal stripes, claws to careen through the concrete jungle with her long hair contrailing in the wind as she hunted down an akuma at Ladybug’s side…
It was a mental image that left Marinette in a daze for a few long seconds before she let out a squeak and snapped to attention, dropping everything in the process. Thankfully the set was long since closed for the night. Although, glancing at the clock, Marinette realized that she might actually be better off just sleeping here tonight. Particularly if she wanted to get out the sudden rush of inspiration the thought of Kory in skintight, ah, dressed like an animal.
That was something she could channel. A tiger stripe print miniskirt with a plain white tank top to be the second look paired with the leather jacket. Something for going to one of Jagged’s concerts. Paired with clawlike nails and a pair of comfortable heels made for movement the look would be complete. This one wasn’t going to be Marinette’s best, she could already tell that from her exhaustion, but it was proof of concept.
It was a springboard, to prove to herself she could use Kory’s exotic looks in a way that other designers weren’t. Oh, they were happy to put her in the same old things everyone else wore and let her otherworldly good looks shine through, and before she’d met the woman (well, more like seen from afar) Marinette would have done the same thing. There was nothing wrong with that, it was impossible to understand the sheer presence of Kory without seeing her in motion.
But once she did, she quickly came to realize that Kory Anders should be the world's most famous supermodel. Right now she was popular, in-demand, but not often talked about as a supermodel. Part of that was Kory herself, she wasn’t keen on long shoots or spending much time away from New York or Gotham. Nor was she open to working with many photographers, Donna and her were almost exclusive. And there were rumors that the both of them occasionally just left sets for a few days or canceled at the last minute.
Those elements were all inconvenient, but if Marinette was being honest with herself, she’d done the same thing. Akumas didn’t wait for anything, after all. That was the main reason she’d crafted her MDC persona to be so reclusive (oh and also, Lila). If people didn’t expect they could get into contact with her, then they wouldn’t be surprised when she didn’t respond immediately. So while Kory’s quirks weren’t ideal, Marinette wasn’t going to throw stones when she lived in a glass house of her own.
Plus, every top model had quirks. For goodness sake, Lila was a model (thankfully not a super, although with Gabriel’s backing it was probably just a matter of time) and she was a horrible person! And Adrien, the few times she’d mustered up enough courage to try contracting him, was surprisingly flakey too, constantly taking forever in changing rooms or leaving the set early. And he had extremely detailed and strange nutrition requirements, seriously what did he need with all that cheese?
So Kory was underappreciated. Marinette could fix that, particularly if she kept bringing that same exuberant energy to her work and found ways to show off her logos. But she couldn’t fix it with however many days were left in the photo shoot (seriously, was it past midnight or not yet, Marinette couldn’t find a clock and she was a little afraid to pull out her phone in case her parents were still awake and wondering where she was). The emergence of Kory Anders and her reintroduction to the world of fashion done right would need planning and a lot more than some last minute pieces made in a frenzied haze of inspiration.
Kory was the kind of woman you built a line around. And, boy, didn’t that thought just leave Marinette spinning? Her work was a little eclectic, not that it was her fault. It was hard to build on a central theme when you kept needing to spend time away fighting akumas or doing guardian things or (attempting) graduating high school. Sometimes, Marinette felt like a mother to all those kwami who wanted to spend more time out and about in the world despite how dangerous it was. But Kory Anders was inspiration walking, something different from the usual fare of size 0 emotionless husks that did nothing to bring out the inherent joy in fashion that Marinette felt.
Sure, sure, those models were all great at just letting the clothing speak for itself. But it had to be said, clothing wasn’t meant to sit limply on a body. It was meant for action, for motion, for all the things you could go out and do with it. A new look was a new possibility, something that being a miraculous wielder constantly reinforced for Marinette. Ladybug wasn’t just magic powers and a mission, she was the suit.
And say what you will about Kory, that she was a challenge at six feet something, that she gave off a feeling of being inhumanly cheerful, that she wasn’t always the easiest to work with, but for all that the woman was so much herself, so emotionally and physically present in the present, she couldn’t imagine her walking down a runway with a blank expression. Kory Anders was action, motion, and all the other wonderful things fashion could enable. It was simply up to Marinette to give Kory the chance to bring them to life.
Just like that, ideas started spinning in her head. What if she designed an outfit for each miraculous? Kory’s emotional intuitiveness immediately brought Daizzi to mind. What would she look like with a diamond anklet and a pink themed silk sarong? Ankle length, the knot tied high so one leg could slip through when she walked and bring a mimicry of Daizzi’s miraculous to the fore. It would shimmer as it caught the light, drawing the eye and bringing something exotic to the outfit. Against her deeply tanned skin it would create the impression of a dancer, someone who skipped across the sand and waves kicking up mischief. Something that could fit in at the beach or on a casual day in the sun, easy to get into and out of for access to the water (and nothing else) or to feel the wind on a walk. Comfortable, flexible, but not the kind of thing where the possibilities of the outfit would immediately jump out unless the model was capable of bringing them out. And that was crucial because it was something to be worn on sunny summer days when the possibilities were ripe, not hanging limply on someone cut off from the emotional joys of life. It would be an outfit to live in, one that needed Kory’s vibrancy.
Or a playful tight dress paired with Trixx’s necklace. Something like edge-of-the-flame orange that, on Kory specifically, would almost give the impression of being a scorchingly hot nude color. Marinette could almost feel the heat of it under her fingers now, how it would sear through the dress at the gentlest touch…
Maybe a ring of white at the hem to draw attention too! And lined black patterned up top crossing over her bodice to give the impression the dress was more daring than it was. Perhaps a sash around the middle that would bend into the impression of a tail in the back. An illusion from a distance, up close a mirage that would let Kory emerge from the colors. Something at home at a masquerade ball, not that you could really conceal the sheer presence that was Kory Anders. But it was playful, illusions wrapped up in one another that would let the wearer toy with the eyes and expectations of everyone watching. The type of illusion that would work for a woman who nobody could take their eyes off.
And now Marinette was stuck here, because she couldn’t just envision something like that without wanting to make it. Plus, she wanted Trixx and Daizzi to be present to help her with ideas and give feedback on the themes. She obviously couldn’t do that somewhere someone could walk in and discover them all. Marinette was just being sensible, it wasn’t her fault the kwamii couldn’t always see that.
“Marinette!” Tikki squeaked at her indignantly, “you need to rest!”
“In fifteen minutes Tikki,” she replied absentmindedly as she lined up two pieces. She'd just found the right tone of orange to match Kory's skin a few minutes ago, or what seemed like a few minutes ago, and the Trixx dress was a few stiches from complete.
“You said that half an hour ago! Marinette!”
Tikki’s high pitched voice went a half-octave higher in worry, something Marinette wasn’t quite certain could actually happen until it did. Either way, she took her foot off the pedal of her sewing machine with a contented sigh. She was done. At just the right time too, if she kept going she’d never hear the end of it.
So Marinette stopped and moved on to scribbling a few notes for Donna, leaving them in the main area where Kory’d been standing a few (many) hours ago. She also left her completed test outfits for tomorrow, giving them a satisfied look as she put the clothing bag in Kory’s preparation room. There was a note pinned to the outside, her trademarked logo on the outside so it wouldn’t be missed.
She nodded, satisfied, as Tikki practically dragged her (and just how did the tiny goddess have that much strength?) out of the studio. Blinking in the subtle brightness of morning, Marinette realized she’d vastly, vastly underestimated how far past midnight she’d stayed out. This situation would require certain skills she’d acquired over years of fighting Hawkmoth. Skills that made her extremely dangerous to parents like her own, who had a tendency to turn in early and trust their daughter’s promises to be home at a reasonable hour.
A couple of hops, a skip, and a jump she’d never have even thought about attempting before spending time as Ladybug, she’d slipped through her skylight and was safely away in bed. Ready for what tomorrow could bring, particularly if it involved watching Kory Anders modeling her creations. Really, if you thought about it, Marinette’s hands were the last things that touched those garments, and they’d be touching Kory’s skin tomorrow. So by the transitive property of indirect kissing (a universal principle every teenage girl knew by heart), she was practically feeling up the woman.
And just like that, Marinette lost another fifteen minutes of sleep.