Once a thief fanfiction-Once a Thief - Fanlore

And Percy being so excited, he starts packing his stuff from camp to entertain his little sister. And Percy starts comforting her and telling her how awesome his little sister is while massaging her head, so she calms down. Then she sees the little girl who stars showing her little arms towards Percy the second she sees him. Marichat sketches based off my fanfic, Once a Thief, Always a Thief. Marinette is a museum curator, and Chat Noir is an internationally infamous cat burglar.

Once a thief fanfiction

Once a thief fanfiction

Once a thief fanfiction

Once a thief fanfiction

Come through. He fanficttion in French, but the two UNA agents understood perfectly. Garret wrapped the dead sweel around his neck. Notes: If you like the story don't hesitate to drop a comment and tell me what you think. That's no way to live.

Multiple model rocket launch system prices. Tick, Tock (A Thief fanfiction)

No strangers. My lady, I'm flattered. This was to Once a thief fanfiction time for the new security to be installed and for repairs to the building after the robbery. Plagg sat on one of the recliners in the living area, while Alix perched on the back of his sofa in a ready to move kind of way. Retrieved Onve Chapter 9 One that her parents kept handy for the staff. Chapter 22 He stopped kissing to fix her with a reproachful look. There were a few vids made for the series but it is sometimes difficult to properly Onxe them today because not everyone who has a vid on tape knows thuef created it. Adrien was far more reserved, the brief encounters Marinette had with him left her with the impression of a polite and an awkward conversationalist. Chat Noir knelt down next to her, placing a gentle hand to ganfiction middle of her back. The interior lights shut off, and they were bathed in darkness so thick it was stifling. Eighteen months after the explosion, the Director of a secret Canadian Agency blackmails Mac into working for her.

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Kali notes: Welcome! Now that some of my WIPs are out of the way, and the muses have been trying to beat my brain in with plot mallets, I have started my next chaptered work. This is just a little something that slammed into my imagination one night while watching a little Val Kilmer movie called The Saint for what has to be nearly the th time.

I was inspired, to say the least. And if you didn't know already, there is a prequel for this fic, called Sketches of the Past. There will be many things alluded to in OAT from that one-shot, so you may want to read it and review! So…here I go again! We mourn. We do, however, own all OCs appearing in this fic. Warnings: Yaoi means lemons, people — unless you're on ffnet; then you get shounen-ai , language, dramatic angst, and other adult content.

Don't like it, don't read it! Summary: AU A thief is being chased by the law in more ways than one. But this thief and the one chasing him have…history. And that will affect the outcome of the chase…perhaps in a way neither would have expected. They didn't happen as often as they once did anymore. These sorts of events had gone out of style ages ago, replaced by parties and gala events at the most popular nightclubs instead. Of course, clubs and such were not usually found in private houses, nor were they the places one could find priceless works of art, jewellery, or museum-quality pieces like relics or artefacts.

Any of these items found in private homes were — in this area of the world, at least — heirlooms passed down over generations. Sometimes they were in the hands of collectors, but that was rare. And most times anything of real value was documented thoroughly, its whereabouts listed in several different places so that, should something happen to it, it could be found again easily or at least tracked.

While that had its upside, it also had its downside. Anyone and everyone could find whatever they wanted to. In other words, it made stealing those items a lot easier. All this ran through the mind of the black-clad figure slinking through the halls of a chateau just outside Paris, France. He'd left the bulk of his costume in the washroom off the kitchens with the door securely locked.

Anyone wanting to use it would have to go elsewhere and heed the "out of order" sign he'd hung on the doorknob. He'd climbed out the window and scaled up the side of the chateau to the third floor tower library, entering through a very small window that was barely large enough to squeeze through. Unfortunately, his intel had been partially false.

He had been told the item he'd been sent to acquire was located in that tower. However, it turns out that it had been moved to the main library on the second floor. Cursing fluently and frequently — in his mind, anyway — he found the doors he was looking for and proceeded to use his…singular talents to get those doors open before slipping inside.

It was a good thing he'd taken care of the security system before he'd locked himself in the bathroom. He wasn't worried about cameras or motion detectors tonight — since they were off because of the party going on downstairs. Still, he didn't want to risk the chance of running into heat sensors or some other elaborate set-up. He couldn't afford to be caught. Glancing around the room, he took in his surroundings as he searched for his target.

Spotting it sitting open on a table, where someone had obviously been studying it, he moved quickly over to it, opening his case to place it inside very, very carefully. All this for a book. Okay, so it's old, and valuable, and kind of pretty, but it's still just a book. He thought with a small amount of disgust.

Damn Gideon for making me do this. I've become a criminal just to get back something that rightfully belongs to me and to save people I love. Locking the case, he returned to the doors and peeked out to make sure the coast was clear, then left as quickly and quietly as he'd come.

Getting back to the tower was something of a chore. It was getting late and people from the ball were stumbling back to their rooms. Occasionally, he had to hide. Eventually he did make it back to the bathroom, where he stashed his gear and the case in a backpack that had seen better days, and put his costume back on — one of the uniforms the catering staff were wearing. Then he gathered everything up, made sure there were no traces of the fact he'd been there, and exited the bathroom.

With no one in the hall, he was nearly home-free. In English, with no hint of his own accent — other than purposefully sounding British — the thief gave him a weak smile and did his best to look ill. You should not have come in if you were so ill. I do not want germs near my dishes. Good evening. He moved slowly out of the kitchen to the servants' entrance, where he slipped out and made his way to the parking lot.

Strapping on his helmet and gloves, he got onto his motorcycle and kicked it into gear, riding away into the night. A red-haired man stood and dusted his hands, glancing at his partner. No hint or clue or evidence left behind. His scent is still in the room.

Fine, let's get back to headquarters and let the Boss know. The UNA 1 isn't going to be happy with us. But we are the ones who will have to find this guy and catch him. It takes skill and finesse to do what he's done.

Do you know who has stolen from me? He spoke in French, but the two UNA agents understood perfectly. Tala, in typical fashion, gave his partner a look and continued toward the front doors, slipping on a pair of sunglasses and leaving Kai to speak with the man. In French, Kai said, " Monseigneur , I'm sorry to say that there was very little evidence of anything to be found — except your missing manuscript. Despite the lack of clues, we think we know who may be behind this.

The man drew out a handkerchief and mopped at his forehead anxiously. I was most reassured by Monsieur Dickenson's phone call this morning, when he told me of your arrival. His agents were the best, he said. Someone from the UNA will be in touch with you when we have anything new to report. Outside, he got into the car and gave his partner a mild glare as Tala pulled out of the drive of the large estate and back onto the highway.

You just don't want to even try. What's wrong with you? I'm just getting supremely annoyed with this thief. He's making a mockery of the UNA. This is the what? Thirteenth item he's stolen? And every time we show up we find nothing to identify him nor any reason for taking whatever it was. You've sensed something then. What have you found?

It's just…a feeling I get. They returned to the Parisian branch of UNA headquarters without further comment. Once there, they rode the elevator to the top floor to give their reports to the Director of the UNA, Mr. Stanley Dickenson. I'll…go write the report right now. I'm sorry, sir, but all we could discern was that it's the same culprit. Tala's nose still works, on the bright side…" Kai reported, trying to lighten the poor results, though he failed miserably.

He'd learned so much from someone in his past, but he didn't have the same genki cheerfulness he had had to pull it off. At this rate all of Europe's most precious treasures will be gone. Has there been anything? Anything at all?

There appears to be no connections at all. The victims of these thefts aren't related, though occasionally they know one another through business or from their social positions. The objects themselves aren't related either. They come from different time periods, different cultures, are of different sorts of objects — like paintings, sculptures, a mechanical device, jewels, and now a manuscript — and there seems to be no pattern to the thefts either.

It's almost as if random objects just…disappear from existence. What do we know? Dickenson folded his hands in front of himself on the desk, watching Kai expectantly.

He called after her but she was already away and escaping. She passed by her own office on the way, and cast a longing look at the dark neglected interior. The nasty mongrel snuck in every few days to hide gifts; roses, a business card, a love letter, once he even left breakfast pastries for her. Her hair was black, but in the right light some people swore it shone blue, which was just fine because she had vivid blue eyes. His Jaguar smelled amazing, a mix of leather and spice reminiscent of Chat's own scent, bringing her back to the time in her apartment when his smell was trapped in the fabric on her bed. Her hair was black, but in the right light some people swore it was blue, which was just fine because she had vivid blue eyes.

Once a thief fanfiction

Once a thief fanfiction

Once a thief fanfiction

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The key light chased the shadows away to reveal once again that no one was there. She swallowed the thick lump in her throat and reached a hand for the maintenance door, never once taking her eyes off the rest of her surroundings. A quick try of the handle confirmed that the door was locked tight, and no one could have gone through it just now without her hearing.

It felt like icy ants crawling up and down her spine and pooling in the base of her skull. Sudden foot falls to her right cause her heart to leap into her throat in fright, and a bright beam of light flashed in her face from around a corner. She threw her arms over her face to shield eyes from the assault, and tried to peer at the figure approaching her. Marinette recognized the voice of one of the night guards almost instantly.

He dropped the light when he verified it was her and she was all too eager to rush out of the corner and stand next to him. Relative safety at last , she thought. She took a moment to calm her racing heart, trying to make sense of the shadow and anxiety she felt before. If nothing else it might have been a trick of the light.

The man nodded, and offered to walk Marinette to the storage room where all the exhibit pieces were being held. She accepted his offer without hesitation. Along the way he radioed his partner to go over the security footage of that corner. The farther they got away from the maintenance door the more the prickly feeling began to fade. By the time they reached the storage rooms the feeling of being watched had completely subsided.

Marinette was quick to go over the inventory, as usual Juleka was thorough and it seemed everything was accounted for and in appropriate shape. That meant the only piece that Lila would need to fix was the scepter, and Marinette covered its box in little vindictive neon-colored sticky notes with Lila's named scrawled over them in bold letters. If the witch said she didn't see the box in the morning she would be a big fat liar.

Hopefully Max requesting the favor was enough to butter up the conservator so she'd actually do her job. Lila and Marinette never got along very well since the conservator started about five months ago. Lila liked to flirt with all the cute guys while on the job, both co-workers and museum patrons. She also liked to flake out on her job, and take long lunches.

Her lack of work ethic drove Marinette insane. It also got on her nerves that Lila called her homely. Not to her face, she'd heard the insult second hand from gossip. Marinette never considered herself homely, she was short, yeah. Only about 5'3" but she wore heals most days so that had to count for something.

Her hair was black, but in the right light some people swore it was blue, which was just fine because she had vivid blue eyes.

She supposed her face was nothing extraordinary. Big forehead, small chin, Round nose with a spattering of light freckles over it and her cheeks.

She kept her bangs styled so they'd hide her forehead, and most days the rest of her hair was kept in a messy bun because she was too busy to do anything fancy with it. Most of the clothes she wore were designed by her own two hands. If museum curator didn't pan out, she could always fall back on being a fashion designer.

Or so she hoped. She was proud of her sense of style, and she thought her clothes were cute and professional. Of course, in comparison with Lila's flirty outfits, Marinette's attire was considered conservative. In response to her self-conscious assessment she stared down at her chest and hips. Her chest was sorta small, but her hips more than made up for it.

She didn't quite have Lila's hourglass figure, but Marinette thought her body was still shapely enough. Being a baker's daughter meant she was never gonna have a model size waist but she was perfectly content with that. Curvy women still had fantastic appeal. Why do I even care what Lila thinks? Marinette crushed a sticky note in her hand and let a curse slip out under her breath.

Lila had this uncanny ability to strike savage blows at her self-esteem and it was starting to infuriate her. She plastered a few more petty notes all over the box just to vent some angst, then packed up her things and joined the security guard who was waiting for her out in the hall.

She double-triple locked the locks, punched in the security codes, and breathed a sigh of relief that her day was finally over and she could go home and throw back a couple glasses of wine. She made it back to Max's office without any issues. The prickly feeling didn't return when she passed the maintenance door, and the guard bid her a polite farewell.

Marinette poked her head into the office and found Max in the same place she left him before. Max locked down his computer and put the screen to sleep, when he pushed away from his desk he wiggled his thick brows playfully. Marinette waited for him to gather his bag and toss his tweed jacket over one shoulder. He joined her at the door and locked down his own office before the two of them made their way out of the building. Upon approaching the parking garage, Marinette felt the return of the icy ants crawling over her spine, her gaze darted around so fast she hurt her neck in the process.

His gaze followed hers feeding off the curator's anxiety. After a thorough scan of their surroundings she still didn't see anything. No out of place suspicious shadows. No strangers. She tried to pass it off as frayed nerves, and shot Max what she hoped was a reassuring smile. He scrutinized her face for several long seconds, before accepting her explanation. But he still cast a wary glance over his shoulder when they entered the garage just in case someone might have been following them.

Marinette bid her co-worker goodnight and parted ways to their respective cars. Max drove an old American car that she forgot the name of, but it was classy with a long hood. She had to admit she felt infinitely better once she was in her Panda, pulling out of the parking garage. The feeling of being watched dissolved completely once she had put some distance between herself and the museum. What she didn't realize was that twice that night she should've looked up.

Nobody ever looks up. If you liked the story, please don't hesitate to say so. It would mean a lot if you dropped a comment with your thoughts and feelings. I used the term "wheat grass" to describe Adrien's eyes because it is the type of grass typically fed to cats. It's cat grass. It's a bight vivid green color. Story Story Writer Forum Community. Things were starting to look up for Marinette as museum curator.

She had a prestigious new exhibit to run, and an ace team to help coordinate it. That is until she crosses paths with the internationally infamous cat burglar, aptly named Chat Noir. She wants to hate him, but this suave and charming thief has his eyes set on more than just her exhibit's priceless Bastet artifact. Chapter 1 "Ah hell," Marinette cursed under her breath. I can pay to fix that.

Hell, I can buy you a new one. And the next time you ask will probably be a no too. Chapter 1 2. Chapter 2 3. Chapter 3 4. Chapter 4 5. Chapter 5 6. Chapter 6 7. Chapter 7 8. Chapter 8 9. Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Extras Extras part 2 Extras part 3 The author would like to thank you for your continued support.

Your review has been posted. Actions Add to Community Report Abuse. She passed by her own office on the way, and cast a longing look at the dark neglected interior.

Once upon a time, it was organized and professional looking. Now it was a mess, with paperwork lining every surface of her desk and large blueprints pinned to all the walls. Her destination was an office second from the end, and the lights were still on inside. Well, Max is still here. Marinette crept up to the doorway and poked her head inside. Just as she suspected Max was bent over his desk typing furiously into his keyboard, surrounded by empty cola cans and candy wrappers.

His glasses were sitting comically on the end of his nose, tape holding the center together because Marinette had knocked them off his face a week ago, and then proceeded to step on them. All by accident, but the replacement set had yet to come in. He was wearing an olive-green button down, suspenders, and brown slacks. His usual tweed jacket was thrown over the back of his swivel chair and there was stubble along his jaw hinting to her that he had been in that office for over twenty-four hours.

Max pushed away from his desk and regarded Marinette over the top of his glasses. She rolled her eyes, and perched on the edge of his desk. Her gaze glanced around the tiny office before settling on his computer screen.

She deduced from the gibberish that he was working on some sort of code for the new exhibit. She looked away after a moment and spared the nerdy man another look. He had dark skin and a scrawny build, and his hair was wiry and pulled back in a short poofy ponytail. He used to keep it short, but over the past two years he let it grow out a little. It was a good look, different but good. His taste in clothing left something to be desired, but no matter how much Marinette insisted on helping update his wardrobe, he always refused.

Max had a thing for her. Marinette wrinkled her nose at his response, but decided not to press him on it. Max was too chicken to ask her out, and watching him squirm had been an endless source of amusement for her and Juleka.

Marinette left Max to his own devices and exited the office wing. The halls of the museum were dark, only the security lights breaking the inky blackness, barely illuminating the building. She had just passed the roped off area when a prickly feeling started up and down her spine.

It was the uncanny feeling someone got when they could swear they were being watched. A quick glance over her shoulder revealed nothing. So, she darted her eyes around the shadows looking for the source of her trepidation. The feeling intensified when her eyes settled on a corner tucked behind a couple of carved marble pillars.

The shadows were thickest in that corner, the security lights failing to even touch it. She knew from memory that there was a door in over there. It was a maintenance door, and it was always locked.

Double-triple locked. But her anxiety told her she needed to check it just in case. Marinette took a step towards the corner and swore a thousand times she saw the shadows shift. Something or someone was there and stepped behind the pillar. She fumbled in her pocket for her car keys and flicked on the small flashlight keychain she kept handy.

The pitiful beam of light pushed against the shadows of the corner, and a few hesitant steps closer it bathed the maintenance door in an eerie blue light. No one was there. She cast the beam around, fished a bottle of pepper spray from her pocket then held it ready in front of her.

After a minute of serious debate Marinette worked up the courage to peer behind the pillars. The key light chased the shadows away to reveal once again that no one was there. She swallowed the thick lump in her throat and reached a hand for the maintenance door, never once taking her eyes off the rest of her surroundings. A quick try of the handle confirmed that the door was locked tight, and no one could have gone through it just now without her hearing. It felt like icy ants crawling up and down her spine and pooling in the base of her skull.

Sudden foot falls to her right caused her heart to leap into her throat in fright, and a bright beam of light flashed in her face from around a corner. She threw her arms over her face to shield her eyes from the assault, and tried to peer at the figure approaching her.

Marinette recognized the voice of one of the night guards almost instantly. He dropped the light when he verified it was her and she was all too eager to rush out of the corner and stand next to him.

Relative safety at last, she thought. She took a moment to calm her racing heart, trying to make sense of the shadow and anxiety she felt before.

If nothing else it might have been a trick of the light. The man nodded, and offered to walk Marinette to the storage room where all the exhibit pieces were being held. She accepted his offer without hesitation. Along the way he radioed his partner to go over the security footage of that corner. The farther they got away from the maintenance door the more the prickly feeling began to fade.

By the time they reached the storage rooms the feeling of being watched had completely subsided. Marinette was quick to go over the inventory. As usual Juleka was thorough and it seemed everything was accounted for and in appropriate shape. Lila and Marinette never got along very well since the conservator started about five months ago.

Lila liked to flirt with all the cute guys while on the job, both co-workers and museum patrons. She also liked to flake out on her job, and take long lunches. Her lack of work ethic drove Marinette insane. It also got on her nerves that Lila called her homely. Marinette never considered herself homely, she was short, yeah.

Her hair was black, but in the right light some people swore it shone blue, which was just fine because she had vivid blue eyes. She supposed her face was nothing extraordinary. Big forehead, small chin, Round nose with a spattering of light freckles over it and her cheeks. Most of the clothes she wore were designed by her own two hands. Or so she hoped. She was proud of her sense of style, and she thought her clothes were cute and professional. In response to her self-conscious assessment she stared down at her chest and hips.

Her chest was sorta small, but her hips more than made up for it. Curvy women still had fantastic appeal. Why do I even care what Lila thinks?

Marinette crushed a sticky note in her hand and let a curse slip out under her breath. Lila had this uncanny ability to strike savage blows at her self-esteem and it was starting to infuriate her.

She plastered a few more petty notes all over the box just to vent some angst, then packed up her things and joined the security guard who was waiting for her out in the hall. She double-triple locked the locks, punched in the security codes, and breathed a sigh of relief that her day was finally over and she could go home and throw back a couple glasses of wine. Marinette poked her head into the office and found Max in the same place she left him before.

Max locked down his computer and put the screen to sleep, when he pushed away from his desk he wiggled his thick brows playfully. Marinette waited for him to gather his bag and toss his tweed jacket over one shoulder. He joined her at the door and locked down his own office before the two of them made their way out of the building.

Upon approaching the parking garage, Marinette felt the return of the icy ants crawling over her spine, her gaze darted around so fast she hurt her neck in the process. No out of place suspicious shadows. No strangers. She tried to pass it off as frayed nerves, and shot Max what she hoped was a reassuring smile. He scrutinized her face for several long seconds, before accepting her explanation.

But he still cast a wary glance over his shoulder when they entered the garage just in case someone might have been following them. Marinette bid her co-worker goodnight and parted ways to their respective cars.

Max drove an old American car that she forgot the name of, but it was classy with a long hood. She had to admit she felt infinitely better once she was in her Panda, pulling out of the parking garage.

The feeling of being watched dissolved completely once she had put some distance between herself and the museum. Nobody ever looks up. If you liked the story, please don't hesitate to say so.

It would mean a lot if you dropped a comment with your thoughts and feelings. I used the term "wheat grass" to describe Adrien's eyes because it is the type of grass typically fed to cats.

Tick, Tock (A Thief fanfiction)

She pulled an artifact from the half-assed packing material and suppressed an internal rant. The preparator from London who packaged the artifact for the exhibit did a terrible job, and now she was going to have to explain why the scepter of Tutankhamun was missing the crystal sphere from its crook. Juleka, her assistant, poked her head around another box. She scrutinized the condition of the scepter with her usual emotionless indifference. Her museum was running an exhibit on Ancient Egypt, having just received the exhibition pieces from their previous show in a London museum.

Except now her schedule was compromised because one of the pieces was damaged due to poor handling and care. She cast a look at the myriad of other boxes that still needed to be catalogued for inventory. I'll be back in an hour; I have a meeting with Ms. Marinette shuddered at the thought of her upcoming meeting. Chloe Bourgeois, the Mayor's daughter, was one of their sponsors and apparently she was "unhappy about something," and her boss decided it was her job to smooth things out.

Not that it's going to matter anyway , she thought bitterly. Chloe always found something to be pissed off about, and nothing Marinette said or did would change that. She spared one more look at the boxes and Juleka, who was nosing through said boxes, decided that inventory was in good hands and headed off towards the front of the building. Along the way she passed by the roped off section of the museum that was being renovated for the Egyptian exhibit she was overseeing.

She felt a swell of pride at the sight of the opaque plastic sheets obscuring the view, and the neat little signs with Egyptian themes telling guests what to anticipate. This would be her biggest and most prestigious show since becoming a museum curator.

She was still pretty young, only twenty-seven, and the success of this exhibit would be the nail that either made or broke her career. Her heels clicked against the polished tile as she strode on by. The usual security guard waved to her on the way out, and she flashed him a friendly smile. She stepped out into the afternoon sun, sucked in a lungful of fresh air, and attempted to expel her dread along with it.

Her eyes fluttered closed as she let the air escape through her nose and started down the steps toward the parking garage. Don't screw this up. It's just Chloe. She opened her eyes again just in time to dodge the man standing in front of her. But failed to land the last step of the stairs and ended up diving nose first into the concrete instead. It was a small tear, she could easily mend it, and she had a spare blazer in her car in case of emergencies.

Given her level of klutziness, and how frequently she managed to spill coffee on herself, a change of clothing was a necessary precaution. She tilted her head to look at him. She didn't even hear his words. Her eyes were too busy darting over the contours of his face and sending a cacophony of signals to her brain that she was unable to sort out. Helpful Man was blonde, and tall, kinda tall, taller than her, but she was sorta short.

He was also handsome, with a cut jaw, and swooping nose line. He had eyes like wheat grass in the sunshine and perfect brows that were scrunched together in concern. He asked me something. I need to reply. What did he ask? Marinette couldn't shake the feeling that she'd seen this man before. His face was so familiar it was starting to make her itch.

Her eyes made another pass over his face, reminding her that he was still waiting for an answer. The expression on his face softened a little bit now that she was speaking again instead of staring at him like an idiot. My fault! Don't replace it! She had to scrunch her eyes shut and look down just to unscramble her thoughts. He called after her but she was already away and escaping. A quick glance at her phone told her she had less than a half hour to change and meet Chloe.

She didn't have time to fumble over words in front of a handsome stranger whom she swore up and down she'd seen before. She managed to weave her way through the parking garage and make it to her car without any more mishaps.

She unlocked the door with more force than was necessary, growling under her breath. What are you? Is this high school where you drop your books in front of a hot guy and blush shamelessly while he picks them up for you? Marinette started the ignition of her little yellow Fiat Panda and pulled out of the parking garage aggressively. It took a few minutes to regain her composure, and when she expelled a breath it disturbed some of her bangs that had settled on her nose.

She passed by a couple streets, and checked her phone to confirm the address she was supposed to meet Chloe. When Marinette looked up again she was passing by a billboard with a Men's fashion ad. Her meeting with Chloe took more than an hour, in fact it took three hours.

By the time she finished placating their sponsor it was already dark. The Parisian night life was in full swing, cars zipping up and down the street when Marinette stepped out of the Le Grande Paris hotel and signaled the valet to bring her car around.

She checked the time on her phone, showing just past nine, and saw several texts from Juleka informing her boss that she had finished inventory and even emailed her a draft of the scathing letter Marinette intended to write.

There was another text informing her that Max was staying late to work on the security programs for the Egyptian exhibit and that he was hungry and calling in that favor Marinette promised. Regardless she made good on her promise, when she got her car from the valet she picked up Greek takeout on her way back to the museum. The parking garage was nearly vacant at this hour, so she had no trouble finding a parking space near the exit and under a bright security light.

The night security guards at the front desk gave her friendly nods when Marrinette flashed her ID at them, she hurried on by and into the darkened halls of the museum towards the wing with all the offices. She passed by her own office on the way, and cast a longing look at the dark neglected interior. Once upon a time, it was organized and professional looking.

Now it was a mess, with paperwork lining every surface of her desk, and large blueprints pinned to all the walls. Her destination was an office second from the end, and the lights were still on inside.

Well, Max is still here. Marinette crept up to the doorway and poked her head inside. Just as she suspected Max was bent over his desk typing furiously into his keyboard, surrounded by empty cola cans and candy wrappers. His glasses were sitting comically on the end of his nose, tape holding the center together because Marinette had knocked them off his face a week ago, and then proceeded to step on them.

All by accident, but the replacement set had yet to come in. He was wearing an olive-green button down, suspenders, and brown slacks. His usual tweed jacket was thrown over the back of his swivel chair and there was stubble along his jaw hinting to her that he had been in that office for over twenty-four hours.

He only paused when the smell of food reached his nose. Max pushed away from his desk and regarded Marinette over the top of his glasses.

I'm really sorry Max, if you don't like what I got you then I'll eat it. She rolled her eyes, and perched on the edge of his desk. Her gaze glanced around the tiny office before settling on his computer screen. She deduced from the gibberish that he was working on some sort of code for the new exhibit. She looked away after a moment and spared the nerdy man another look.

Max was a longtime friend, she'd gone to school with him, and even back then he was a nerd. He had dark skin and a scrawny build, and his hair was wiry and pulled back in a short poofy ponytail.

He used to keep it short, but over the past two years he let it grow out a little. It was a good look, different but good. His taste in clothing left something to be desired, but no matter how much Marinette insisted on helping update his wardrobe, he always refused.

Max had a thing for her, she seemed to hit it off pretty well with Max, and she hated every cell in Marinette's body. Marinette wrinkled her nose at his response, but decided not to press him on it.

She'd been giving him a tough time over Lila for months. Max was too chicken to ask her out, and watching him squirm had been an endless source of amusement for her and Juleka. If you wait around for an hour I'll walk you out to your car. Max knew how uncomfortable the parking garage made her feel in the dead of night, it was a relief that she'd have someone to accompany her. Marinette left Max to his own devices and exited the office wing.

The halls of the museum were dark, only the security lights breaking the inky blackness, barely illuminating the building. She had just passed the roped off area when a prickly feeling started up and down her spine. It was the uncanny feeling someone got when they could swear they were being watched. A quick glance over her shoulder revealed nothing. So, she darted her eyes around the shadows looking for the source of her trepidation.

The feeling intensified when her eyes settled on a corner tucked behind a couple of carved marble pillars. The shadows were thickest in that corner, the security lights failing to even touch it.

Once a thief fanfiction

Once a thief fanfiction

Once a thief fanfiction