goldenlaurelleaveswrites - Tumblr blog

goldenlaurelleaveswrites · 9 months ago

Text

FIC: "When Did You Get THAT?" (MLB; Lukanette; LBSC Lukanette Month 2024)

@lovebugs-and-snakecharmers is doing a Lukanette Month for September 2024, and we all just kinda tossed some prompts in the disco to compile a list? We ended up with 71 prompts, so I decided I’d roll some dice to pick a prompt, do a twenty minute (ish, bc we all know sometimes they run away from me) sprint, and try to get some short fics out this month?

Also HUGE shoutout to @goldenlaurelleaveswrites , who is the Juleka Whisperer and absolutely saved this fic when my Get-the-Prompt-Donitis had Juleka sounding like a dyed Alya. You're the best, babes 🖤

Read on Ao3

Prompt 52: Piercing

Luka was…distracted.

Which really wasn’t saying much, because Juleka would argue he was usually distracted when a certain someone was around, but today was…worse than usual.

Because today was hot.

And had been set aside for a seasonal Mop Up Day – one of the few times a year the Captain actually tolerated the word clean on her ship. And Marinette had come over with the best of intentions, not realizing it was a Mop Up Day until it was too late. All Luka had told her, when she had first asked if it was all right to come over that day, was that they’d be busy all day and wouldn’t be able to have anyone over. He had also had the best of intentions, wanting to keep her from getting caught up in the chaos that was the Captain cleaning. He had also known that, because it was Marinette, she would totally offer to help, and while that was appreciated he had still wanted to save her from the Captain cleaning. So imagine his shock when she showed up bright and early – at least for them – with a box of pastries and some harried excuses about how I know you said not to come over but if you’re busy you’ll need sustenance and pastries are always a great pick-me-up, right?

It was just…Marinette being Marinette. Being the awesome girl she was. But it had, unfortunately, also completely blown his plans to save her from cleaning, because she was a helper. A doer. And the next thing he knew, she was hauling boxes and mopping decks with the rest of them.

And he wasn’t complaining, because he would never complain about getting more time with Marinette, but…it wasn’t really fair. For her, totally, because it wasn’t even her home. Sure, she spent enough time there and often joked that it was like a second home, but the Liberty still wasn’t her actual home. She shouldn’t be responsible for cleaning it up.

It also wasn’t fair to…well. Him. Because it was hot, and she had dressed appropriately for a late summer day, and sure he had seen her in shorts and swimsuits before but that never made it any easier when there was just so much Marinette on display.

…he was still a guy. A guy who was still stupid in love with her, even if he was pretty sure it was no longer mutual. A guy who was still stupid in love with her and had eyes.

Somewhere out there, up there, whatever (…probably hiding in her purse, or back in her bedroom but still somehow just knowing), the universe (or a tiny snake-shaped god) was laughing at him. Uproariously.

He was probably playing his pain on fucking loop.

So now Marinette was sticking around for the mop up, and while she wasn’t stuck with the more manual tasks Luka had been assigned – like how he was currently on the roof of the greenhouse, replacing some panes that had broken in the last bad storm – she was still…there. Distracting. Because, if you asked Juleka, Marinette was always distracting. At least for him.

She…really had a point.

Because he was always so aware of her, even when she wasn’t directly engaging him. He was drawn to her, as he had always been, like a magnet. Every time he heard her voice somewhere below. Every time Juleka said something stupid that made her laugh. Every time he looked up and saw the flex of her arms as she lifted something someone so tiny shouldn’t have been able to, or saw the curve of her ass on full display as she bent to pick something up off the deck. The way her white tank top was starting to stick to her skin with her sweat. The glimmer in her eyes when she called up to him and tossed a water bottle his way – “So you don’t overheat!”

…the little glimpse of something, something small and shiny, that he couldn’t be sure he was actually seeing every time that tank rode up just a little too high, which was happening more and more as the day wore on.

He couldn’t be seeing that right. It had to be his imagination, or a hallucination, or…something.

Because there was no way he was seeing what he thought he was seeing.

There was no way Marinette would have gone through with it.

There was no way in hell Tom would have let her.

And there was definitely no way she would have done it without telling him!

…right?

Not that…not that she needed to. But they were friends – really good, really close friends – and they told each other stuff. He had told her before he’d gotten his first tattoo. And sure, that was partly because he’d been hoping she would design it, but…he had still told her. She was actually the first person he had told, when it was still just an inkling of an idea instead of actual ink.

So wouldn’t she tell him if she was planning on…on…

She turned back towards Juleka, lifting an arm to wipe some sweat from her brow, and there. Her shirt lifted just enough that her navel was in plain sight. And she wasn’t moving. And he could clearly see, glinting in the sun…

Juleka noticed it, too.

“Woah, Mari,” she said, her eyes widening. Her hand reached out almost automatically before she seemed to catch herself, and Marinette frowned as she noticed Juleka was staring at her…she squeaked and went to tug her shirt down, but Juleka put a hand on her arm and made her pause. “Can I…is that what I think it is?”

“It…ah…” Marinette stammered, but then she was looking towards the deck as she nodded, lifting her shirt up just a bit more to reveal…holy shit. Juleka gave her a Look, and she rolled her eyes and sighed as she lifted her shirt even higher. Luka swallowed, his throat suddenly too dry. There was a tiny, pink flower – a cherry blossom, he was sure, because what else could it be with her, made of glittering pink crystals – nestled perfectly in her belly button. A smaller white stone poked through her skin just above it. It was…it was…

…hot, a tiny, strangled voice somewhere in the back of his mind offered, most unhelpfully.

“When did you get that?” Juleka asked, her eyes widening even more.

“Not that long ago,” she said. She started to lower her shirt again, but Juleka shook her head as she reached out to stop her. She looked up at her with a grin, one Luka had seen too many times over the course of his short life and now had Marinette looking away anxiously, clearly uncomfortable with her scrutiny. There was a blush on her face. “It’s…it’s still new.”

“Not that new,” Juleka said, and Luka watched in something akin to amazement – or maybe just…bafflement – as she reached out to poke her fucking stomach. She seemed to remember herself just shy of actually touching Marinette, but Marinette – who was too familiar with such oversteps from other people who had called themselves friend over the years – flinched away all the same. It was enough to make his fists clench against the roof, and the next thing he knew he was making his way down to the deck and over towards them. He didn’t care if Juleka was his sister: she knew better, and even if she had opened up more over her time in lycée – mostly thanks to friends like Rose and Marinette – she knew shit like that wasn’t ok. He noticed she did pull back as his boots touched the deck, her hand moving to rub at her elbow as she looked at Marinette’s stomach. “…sorry. But it can’t be that new, Marinette. It’s not even swollen anymore.”

“Juleka…” she sighed, and Luka felt himself swallowing again when she glanced over at him. Her face turned several shades darker as she saw he was no longer on the roof, and that almost gave him pause. “Cut it…come on. It’s not a big deal.”

Juleka followed her gaze, and her grin turned positively wicked when she saw him, and that was around when Luka realized they were both fu…doomed. His swallow was more of a gulp that time as Juleka coughed and nodded towards him.

“…have you told Luka yet?” she asked, her voice just loud enough for him to hear as he walked towards them. There was a moment – an almost painful moment, as his boot landed heavy on the deck behind Marinette and her entire body seemed to tense before she spun around, her eyes wide and her face several shades darker than it had been moments before. And she looked up at him, her eyes wide and kind of terrified and so, so blue, but…she was still holding her shirt up.

It would have fallen, if she hadn’t still had her hands twisted in the hem so tight he was surprised it hadn’t ripped. If she hadn’t frozen upon seeing him right there, in front of her, with his eyes glued to the piercing like some creep.

“Did you know, brother dear?” Juleka asked, her voice entirely too innocent as she smirked at him from over Marinette’s shoulder. He swallowed, and her grin grew. “Me neither. But I must say: it looks hot. Don’t you think?”

“I think I liked it better when you were too shy to speak…” Marinette grumbled, her eyes dropping to their feet. Luka was pretty sure he was supposed to be yelling at Juleka – or corralling Marinette below, away from the ‘good-natured’ teasing and to the safety of his bunk, where she would be more comfortable.

…because they were friends, and she was comfortable with him, and this conversation was clearly making her so very…not comfortable.

“Come on, Jules,” she sighed, her eyes still on her feet. “It’s not a big deal. It’s just a belly button ring.”

“Lay off, Jules,” he said, finally tearing his eyes away from the piercing to glare at his sister. “You’ve had your fun.”

“Oh, I’m just getting started, brother dear. You, Marinette Dupain-Cheng, are pierced,” Juleka snickered, grinning at her. She nodded towards Luka. “You officially have more holes than that idiot.”

“Juleka!” they both snapped at her, but she just laughed – outright cackled, like the little witch she was – before looping an arm around Marinette’s shoulders.

“Seriously. Did you lose a bet or something? I wouldn’t have pegged you as a belly button ring girl,” she quipped. Her grin was almost feral, and Luka honestly wasn’t sure if the blush on Marinette’s face was from embarrassment or frustration. Probably both. He was starting to feel frustrated himself. “Probably some more on your ears. Maybe a nose ring. But your navel?”

“Juleka –” he started, but Marinette huffed as she tried to shrug her off. Juleka took her arm back, her expression wavering for a moment, and he was relieved to see that. Good. Maybe she was finally getting the picture.

“Shut up, Juleka. It wasn’t like that,” she said, her hands still twisting just enough in her shirt to keep the piercing revealed. He was trying his level best to ignore it. “I just…thought it was cute. And Rose agreed, and she thought –”

That was enough to catch her attention.

“Wait, Rose?” she asked, her eyes widening as she looked up at her. And that…that look on her face possibly made up for how much he wanted to throttle her, putting Marinette on the spot like that. Like she wasn’t finding her game very amusing anymore. That dawning look of horror and realization as she connected some dots in her head. “Son of a –!”

“No, Juleka, wait –!” Marinette called as she spun away from her, but it was too late. Juleka had the look about her of a woman possessed, and Luka knew nothing they said or did would deter her from her goal. “You weren’t supposed to know yet!”

“I need a break! Tell Ma I’ll be back soon – text me what you want!” Juleka called, and then she was gone. Marinette blinked before turning back to him.

“Did…did she actually say where she was going?” she asked, her fingers still twisting anxiously in the hem of her shirt. “I’m assuming she’s going to see Rose, I mean, but…”

“She’ll have to bring something back if she’s going to convince Ma she’s not just shirking her duties,” he said, shrugging. “Might as well take advantage of it. I dare say she deserves it.”

Marinette groaned and dropped her face in her hands – finally dropping her shirt in the process. Luka couldn’t stop the way his eyes flicked down, or the way he reflexively swallowed when he still saw a glimmer of pink along the strip of still-exposed skin.

“Rose is going to kill me,” she said. “It was supposed to be a surprise. She didn’t want Juleka to know until it had fully healed – hers got…why am I telling you this???”

She had squeaked out the last question, and she was peeking out over her fingertips at him. He shook his head, chuckling slightly as he smiled at her. It didn’t feel as easy as his smiles for her usually did, which was…weird. He hadn’t felt this off-kilter around her in…well.

That wasn’t fair.

He usually felt off-kilter around her.

He was just…usually better at hiding it. At least he liked to think he was.

“Because we’re friends? And we talk?” he hazarded. He reached out, laying his hand on her arm and rubbing…it was supposed to be soothing. Comforting. He hoped it was, for her. His skin felt like a livewire where they touched. That damn piercing was still taunting him, begging him to reach out and… “I’m a little surprised you hadn’t told me yet, honestly.”

“Because it was supposed to be a surprise,” she huffed, rolling her eyes. “It…I mean…I didn’t…”

“I’m sorry she kept on you like that,” he sighed, squeezing her arm before removing his hand. He shoved them in his pockets, where he was thankful to find a spare pick he quickly started flipping between his fingers. Anything to fidget with. Anything to keep him from… “She knows how much that sucks. She shouldn’t have embarrassed you like that.

“I’m not embarrassed,” she was quick to say. He lifted an eyebrow, and she pushed out a breath as she rolled her eyes. “I’m not. I just…she just…I was going to tell you, Luka. I was.”

“I know,” he said, because they told each other stuff like that. He had no doubt she would have told him. When she was ready.

“Do…” she glanced back down, her teeth worrying her lower lip in a way that was just as distracting as the damn piercing. “…do you like it?”

…he would have told her he liked XY, with the way she was looking up at him like that. He was amazed she even had to ask.

Like it?

Did he like it?

He didn’t like it.

He loved it.

He was…actually having some very inappropriate thoughts about just how much he loved it. Thoughts he probably shouldn’t be having, considering…

“Yeah,” he finally said, swallowing thickly as he nodded. Her smile turned a bit easier, and he reached out to flick a finger against her shirt. When she didn’t flinch away, he lifted it just a little. Just enough to fully reveal the little flower glinting up at him. His eyes flicked up to her, his smile growing as his finger brushed the warm skin stretched out in stark contrast to the cool silver of the piercing. It had to be his imagination, but he would have sworn she shivered at the touch. “It’s pretty cool, Marinette.”

The smile she gave him at that was one of his favorite things, and he found himself smiling back as she ducked her head, a pretty blush on her cheeks.

“C-cool,” she stammered, reaching up to tuck some hair behind her ear. Her other hand reached out, her fingertips brushing against his until she had pulled his hand towards her, and his breath caught as she threaded her fingers through his. As she held his hand and smiled up at him like…he twisted their hands, pressing their palms together and brushing his thumb against hers. Her smile turned easier, and she took a step closer. One more step, just one, and she’d… “Cool.”

#miraculous ladybug #luka couffaine #marinette dupain-cheng #endgame lukanette #lukanette endgame #juleka couffaine #they’re idiots your honor

21 notes · View notes

goldenlaurelleaveswrites · 9 months ago

Text

Piso’s guide to writing Luka music metaphors that make sense

Now I know what you’re thinking: “Luka’s shtick is that his music metaphors go over people’s heads.” In canon, certainly, Luka will just say something poetic about how music works. However, what he says may or may not follow how music actually works and that disconnect from reality can be jarring for the audience (the wind cannot play like it’s a bow no matter how you hold your violin up to it). What I prefer to do instead is to write music metaphors that would be an authentic part of Luka’s musical experience and it only goes over people’s heads because he assumes that everyone knows what he’s talking about and doesn’t think to explain what he means.

For example, Luka might say something like “We have an incomplete rhythm section” to say that someone foundational to the group is missing. Does the average person know what a rhythm section is? No. (It’s the people on drums, bass, and keyboard (usually) and they provide the basic groove that the other performers build off of). But Luka lives and breathes this stuff, so he’s going to overestimate how much other people know unless he’s actually asked to explain.

There is, however, a potential pitfall for writers trying to do their research to keep Luka accurate: music isn’t a monolith. If you try to look up something like “music terminology,” you’re most likely to end up with only words from classical music because it’s such a rigorously defined music tradition. Luka, however, is a kid in a rock band—yes, he does have experience with making violins as well, but his default musical experience is popular music, not classical. Kids in rock bands usually do not go to music school to learn music theory, they just listen to what other bands are doing and get inspired to make their own music—it’s not even necessary to know how to read music, given that many highly popular music icons didn’t bother to learn. With this in mind, it would not make sense for Luka to use words like “madrigal” at random, given that that is a form of vocal music from the Renaissance and completely outside of what he spends his time thinking about. Instead, he’s going to think about things like how it feels to get in the groove, experiences of being onstage, needing to deal with a broken string after playing too hard, etc. And those sorts of things are not likely to be found by looking up words you don’t know, it’s going to be found listening to people who have experience in this particular area of music.

But that still leaves the question: if what Luka is talking about is supposed to go over people’s heads, how is the reader supposed to follow what’s going on? That is where you plant just enough context clues for the reader to get the basic gist. To use our earlier example (where Luka likens his situation to an incomplete rhythm section), you can then add a more comprehensible line to help interpret it, “and it’s going to be difficult to find the groove without all the players here.” You might even forgo the terminology altogether and just describe the situation more plainly—for example, “the audience started clapping on the on beat” might not sound like a bad thing for non-musical people, but calling it the “wrong beat” is going to make the problem clearer (even if they might not fully understand why misplaced clapping is so annoying). The point is that you give the non-musical reader enough to go on to understand the thrust of the conversation, but if you do have knowledge of what Luka is actually talking about, it makes what he says all the richer.

#writing advice #writing reference

100 notes · View notes