#I finally got some spare time for personal art again AND JUMPED ON MY CHANCE

[risto-licious]

steamy fresh art of the big sea man risto, cropped so I can show it here lmao. he's..............flustered.

[redpandaramblings]

The Art of Blind Dates. Deku x GN! Reader

This piece was written for @rat-zuki 's the deku agenda escapes no one collab. Happy Birthday to our favorite broccoli.

Content warning- This fic rated PG-13. Aged up characters, Allusions to sexual activity, swearing, gender neutral reader.

“You know, we really have to stop meeting like this.”

You jumped, the spray can you had been using left an unsightly streak of bright red across your masterpiece. You scowled behind your mask as you turned to face the man who had spoken.

“We do. You keep making me mess up my hard work!”

You smirked, pleased with yourself as you saw Deku, the number one pro hero, recoil at the sight of your mask. It had taken a few weeks to convert the All Might mask into an ahegao face, but it was worth it if it horrified your number one pain in the ass. Izuku blinked a few times, sighing and bringing a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. He was clearly choosing to ignore your choice of disguise.

“I wouldn’t have to mess with your work if you chose to do things that were, you know, actually legal? You’re talented, Brushstroke. You could get paid to do murals or something instead of…” Deku gestured towards your latest creation. You were rather proud of it. It had taken a good amount of planning to manage to paint a fifty foot tall mural of pro hero Dynamight mooning the city with the bold caption ‘The Hero Commision can kiss my ass.’ It would be perfect if not for the red streak from where Deku had startled you. With a contemplative hum you shook your spray can and quickly turned the offending mark into a cartoonish lipstick print. Midoriya sighed heavily. “I’m standing right here, you know.”

“I know.” You grinned behind your mask. The voice distorter you used did nothing to hide your chipper tone. “I also know you like it. And you can’t tell me Dynamight wouldn’t love it. He literally said that on live interview!”

“Yes, but not with his pants down to his knees.”

You bent over, throwing your cans of spray paint and climbing gear into your duffle bag. It wouldn’t do for your nemesis to get his hands on some of the tools you used. Mei’s stamp was all over it.

“Which is such a shame. The man’s got cake for days.” You chuckled as Deku pulled a face.

He observed you, hands on his hips. “And where do you think you’re going?”

“Away, obviously.” You said as you threw the strap of your dufflebag across you.

“And I’m just going to let you go?”

“Oh no. You’re going to chase me like you always do. And I’m going to escape like I always do. And it’s going to drive you crazy because you can’t figure out how I keep doing it.” You began stretching, exaggerating each movement.

“A teleportation quirk isn’t that hard to figure out.” Izuku began stretching as well, rolling his shoulders and popping joints.

“Guess again.” You sing songed, bouncing on your toes.

“Wouldn’t have to guess if you just told me.”

“But that’s no fun. Unfortunately, I do have to be going. Catch you later, hot stuff!” And with a sprint, you raced to the side of the building and jumped off before activating your quirk.

Time slowed around you. It was like you were hovering in the air instead of falling. Freeze Frame was a quirk you had learned to perfect over the years. Between the quirk and the assorted gadgets in your bag and on your person, it was definitely enough to baffle the number one pro hero. Speaking of, you better work quickly before your quirk wore off and splatted you across the sidewalk.

Freeze Frame was named after what your quirk looked like from the outside. It was as if you teleported, or you had frozen time around you for everyone except yourself. In reality, you were a speedster. When your quirk was active, you were able to move at speeds so fast you were undetectable to others, and to you it seemed like everything was paused in time. You probably could have been a phenomenal hero or villain if you wanted. But currently, it was much more fun to thwart a certain green haired man.

With a press of a button, you deployed a grappling hook, snagging it on the building across the alley. You swung over, keeping a countdown in your head. Would you be lucky enough and have time to…? Yes. There! A balcony door was cracked open slightly. You gracefully landed on the balcony and used the door to slip into what appeared to be someone’s bedroom, thankfully unoccupied at the moment. Taking no chances though, you slip into the closet just as the effects of your quirk wear off. The other reason you had never turned to heroism or villainy- no matter how much you trained, you could only keep your quirk activated for ten seconds at a time. It wasn’t a lot. Plus you could only activate your quirk a couple dozen times a day without getting seriously ill. But it still was usually more than enough to be able to give any law enforcement the slip. Just like now.

Deku curses as he runs to the edge of the roof. You’re nowhere to be seen. “Brushstroke! Get back here, you damn brat!” He shouted, running a hand through his hair in frustration. One of these days he was going to figure out your quirk and how to counteract it. And when that day comes he was going to take you over his knee and… No. He shook his head, blushing to clear his thoughts. What to do with you. Well, he wasn’t sure yet. You weren’t a villain, really. More of a public nuisance. The murals you did showed a lot of talent and a good chunk of the population agreed with the social commentary behind them. But that didn’t change that you had painted ten foot tall asscheeks on a building without permission. And, technically, it was within his job description to apprehend you. “Brushstroke!” Deku called again as he made his way down to the ground. There was no sign of you anywhere. Invisibility quirk maybe? Though it would be unusual if you could turn all the stuff you had been wearing and carrying invisible as well.

Meanwhile, as Izuku was getting lost in thought, you were getting naked. You stripped out of your gear and paint covered smock, moving as quickly as you dared while still remaining quiet in your hidden location. Just because the bedroom had been empty doesn’t mean the rest of the place was, after all. You shoved everything into your dufflebag, pulling out a clean set of clothing from a zippered pocket. Getting changed was a simple affair, as was ruffling your hair, messily getting it to look like a different style. One of your favorite tricks happened when you pushed a hidden button on the edge of your duffle bag. The previously dull gray bag quickly morphed into a loud riot of tye dyed color. Chameleon bags, Hatsume called them. Still in a prototype stage, your friend and employer would probably make a mint on them if you put them on the market. After a final brush off and deciding you looked acceptably civilian, you peeked out the closet door. The bedroom was still empty. You crept out slowly. The balcony wasn’t a feasible exit anymore. Not without the gear you had had to store away. You were going to have to sneak out the front door. You activated your quirk, feeling a little queasy at having to use it again so quickly in succession. It was simple to race through the apartment and out into the hall within your short time limit. In fact, with your speed, you were easily able to exit the entire apartment complex. You still had a few seconds to spare when you shot out the door. You grinned at seeing the number one pro hero standing in the middle of the street. You knew you shouldn’t do what you were thinking. Instead you should use your last few spare seconds to put some distance between yourself and the large, green haired man. Instead, you quickly dug around in your bag and found your tube of lipstick. You applied a nice thick coat as you waltzed up to him. With a giggle, you planted a firm smacking kiss on his cheek, leaving behind a clear and perfect lip print. With a grin, you hurried back to the apartment complex. It was easy to make it seem like you were just coming out of the door as time snapped back to its proper speed. You watched, hiding your smirk as you observed the clearly frustrated hero scanning the crowds for any sign of you. His eyes passed right over you, barely giving you a glance. You almost felt hurt that he thought your normal look was that unremarkable. But that was the point, after all. As Deku continued to call out for your pseudonym, you turned and walked away, blending into the crowd. You were almost out of earshot when you heard a loud cursing exclamation that would have been more in character for a certain blond hero. You bite your knuckle to muffle your laughter. Someone had informed Deku of the lipstick mark.

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

You sipped from a bottle of water as you watched Mei work her magic. It was strangely relaxing to watch her in her element. Though it seemed chaotic the first few times you had witnessed your friend work, there was a clear method to the madness if you just knew where to look. And you knew exactly where to look now that you had been working with her for the past three years. You were simply listed as one of her assistants. Most days that involved a random jumble of cleaning, paperwork, schedule management, and coffee making. The real reason Hatsume loved having you around however, was days like this.

“Okay! Set!” She chirped happily. “You good to go now?”

You nodded as you slid down, and walked into the testing area. “Remind me what I’m looking for again?”

“Well, obviously the usual. Make sure it’s not lethal, of course. And then I want to make sure the grid is deploying at the right time. Should be about a quarter second after detonation.”

“As long as everything looks good, want me to be full blown dummy this time?”

Hatsume tilted her head, and considered a moment before nodding. “Yeah, should be fine. Have the explosive levels where they should be. If anything messes up it’s going to be the grid deploying too soon or too late and not restraining you right.”

You gave her a thumbs up as you got into position. She counted down, though that didn’t matter much to you, honestly. One of the best perks of your quirk was that it gave you insane reflexes. You waited until the moment you saw the detonation begin to happen and activated your quirk.

As usual, it felt like time slowed to a crawl around you. Hollywood directors would give a kidney to have access to the detailed slow motion you could experience every day for free. You walked around the device, looking it over. It was meant to be a capture aid for pro hero Cellophane, a small explosive that would shoot nets of tape in all directions. It had to be safe and effective. Better to have a few civilians stuck to the walls than to risk letting a villain escape, after all. You peered into the explosion that was slowly rippling outward. Everything looked good so far… Yep, there were the grids starting to deploy. Sure that everything was safe, you deactivated your quirk and instantly were thrown backward and stuck to a padded wall of the testing room.

“Looked great!” You called as Hatsume entered the room. “I think you’ve finally got it!”

While she cheered and began praising her baby for performing so well, you tried wiggling. No luck. You were stuck rather firmly. Apparently she had upped the strength of the adhesive. After a minute, Hatsume finally noticed your struggles.

“Oh good!” She chirped. “Looks like the new formula is holding up nicely. I mean, I still need to test it out against, like strength and fire quirks, but looking good so far.”

“Little help, please?” You ask, giving her a look.

“Maybe in a bit.” She said, turning her back and leaving you there, pinned. “Want to test how long it holds. Besides, I have some questions about your last escapade and how my babies held up.”

You let out a resigned sigh. Of course. Your friend had found out about your after hours hobby about a year and a half ago. Instead of discouraging you, it hadn’t surprised you that much when she blackmailed you. She wouldn’t tell the police or heroes…. If you used some of her experimental babies on your future excursions. You had been dubious. Hatsume’s babies could be a little dangerous in the prototype stage. But it ended up working great! Your pieces went from small tagging jobs to huge fifty foot murals. Though that had caught the attention of a few public figures, including a certain green haired pain in your ass.

“I didn’t use anything directly against Deku this time.” You sighed, going limp to test if the tape would hold your weight. It did. “Grappling hook works great. The painter drones are okay for filling in large areas, but aren’t able to do clean lines well. The gecko boots continue to be amazing, but the gloves need a lot of work. The control for when they release still isn’t great.”

Hatsume nodded, quickly making notes about everything you said. There was a bit of a quick back and forth where she asked questions and you answered. Though ten minutes passed and you were still stuck to the wall. She eventually sets her notes aside and turns to face you fully. “So,” she drawls. “You saw Deku again.”

“I always see Deku nowadays!” You groan. “I swear Mei, if I find out you’re tipping him off or something...”

“Aww, come on! He’s nice! Would you rather be dealing with Dynamight?”

You frowned, not meeting her gaze. “I mean, the variety might be nice?”

“You like that with the help of my babies you’re able to out fox the number one pro hero, admit it!”

“It might be a little satisfying,” you mutter.

“And it doesn’t hurt that he’s hot either! Heard you two get all flirty during chases. The tabloids loved the kiss mark, by the way. Enjoy finally kissing him?”

“Hatsume!” you groan. “Subject change, please! Anything else!”

“Anything?” she grins at you.

“Oh god, I’m going to regret this.”

“It’s not that bad, I promise! Just, would you be interested in a blind date?”

You blink. “A date?”

“Yeah! One of my friends from school has a lot of trouble meeting people organically. You know how the industry is. Ridiculous schedules, maintaining reputation, trying to make sure they like you for you and aren’t just a fan.”

“Yeah… I guess I can understand that.”

“Well, I just think you and him would be a great fit! He’s a huge nerd in a lot of the same ways you are, but a real good guy once you get past the awkward. Plus,” Hatsume dropped her voice to a conspiratorial whisper “I happen to know for a fact that he’s a fan of Brushstroke’s work.”

You sighed, rolling your eyes. “You know it’s extortion to try to get me to agree when you have me literally taped to a wall.”

“I know!” Hatsume chirped happily. “So are you going to agree? I made the adhesive pretty strong this time. Who knows how long it would take to wear off on it’s own?”

“Bitch!” You can’t help laughing. “Alright, alright, I’ll go. Just get me down from here!”

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

You fidgeted with the ring you were wearing as you stared at the building in front of you. Maybe it wasn’t too late to bail? You don’t know exactly what you had been expecting when Hatsume had told you about the somewhat shy, nerdy man she had set you up with, but you hadn’t expected him to choose the fanciest restaurant in town as your date location. You were wearing your best and still felt underdressed. Well, if the date was a disaster, at least you knew what building you were going to spray paint next. The glistening white exterior would make for a great canvas. You chuckled quietly at your own thoughts.

Squaring your shoulders, you took a deep breath and marched in. You could do this. You were an infamous tagger. You faced off against the number one pro hero regularly. Your day job was working with Hatsume. You’ve got this. With an air of newfound confidence, you gave your name to the maitre d. It was a surprise when you were led through the restaurant to one of their private curtained rooms. This guy you’d been set up with was apparently going all out. Maybe you were going to like him after all, you thought as you were ushered in. Then you looked up.

Fuck.

Standing to greet you with a stupidly flustered look on his damn stupid handsome face was your nemisis. The number one thorn in your proverbial side. The giant broccoli himself.

That BITCH had set you up with Izuku Midoriya!

You froze. In the back of your mind you were aware that your mouth was hanging open. The green haired man shifted his weight from foot to foot. “Hi,” he said quietly, scratching the back of his head.

You continued to stare.

He cleared his throat, glancing to the side. “Sorry about the secrecy, but I think it’s understandable.”

You nodded weakly.

Izuku bit his lip. You realized with a start that he might be even more nervous than you are. As much as you planned to murder Hatsume later, this wasn’t Midoriya’s fault. You could get through this date at least. Eat some expensive food, drink the best wines, make some meaningless conversation, say your goodbyes, and then go home to plot the demise of your former best friend. Long, slow painful demise. Good thing about being an artist, you had lots of traps, so clean up should be easy. Looking at the worried expression on Izuku’s face, you realize with a start that you still haven’t actually said anything to him. You open your mouth to offer some sort of generic greeting. But what comes out is-

“I’m going to fucking murder Mei!”

Izuku blinks. Blinks again. Then he starts laughing loudly. He leans one hand on the table as he cackles. You stare before starting to chuckle yourself. Soon you’re both wheezing with laughter. You both slump into your seats, trying to collect yourselves. Midoriya speaks first.

“Yeah, I… I get that. I’d think that’s a common emotion when hanging around Hatsume.”

You can’t help your smile. “Only at least half of the time. But that’s what makes it fun. No one else like her.”

“That’s for sure.” Izuku leaned back in his seat, looking you over like he’s studying you. “So, I suppose we should actually introduce ourselves. I’m Izuku Midoriya. I do hero work.”

You laugh. “Y/N Y/L/N. I work for Mei and freelance art when I can.”

“Art, huh? What kind of stuff do you do?”

You’re briefly interrupted by the arrival of the first course. After the waiter leaves, Deku apologies. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to order for you, but this is one of those places where you pay them and they tell you what you’re going to eat.”

“It’s fine.” You say as you stare at the delicate wisp of some sort of thinly shaved vegetable with a dollop of strangely colored foam on top.

“You were saying what kind of art you do?” Deku cautiously was poking at the tiny fancy appetizer.

“A few different things really, but my passion is mural work. Latest job was in a maid cafe. They wanted something cute and floral, but they let me do what I wanted within that theme.”

The night continued on and was surprisingly easy. The food was delicious, the wine was better, and you were pleasantly surprised by the company. Maybe it was the wine softening you up, but as you looked across the table where Izuku was animatedly talking about how influential All Might’s example had been for him, you admitted to yourself that the green haired man was very handsome. And funny. And interesting. And you were trying very hard not to think about the way Midoriya’s large scarred hand wrapped around the delicate wine glass. It was a surprise when the final course was finished and Izuku was quietly taking care of the bill. He escorted you out of the building and you both stood awkwardly outside. Deku cleared his throat.

“If it’s not presuming too much, I’m not quite ready for tonight to end. Is it alright if I walk you home?”

“I’d like that. Like that a lot, actually.”

He smiled at you, and it was like the sun. You walked and talked animatedly. The conversation was so easy and fun, and a little flirty. Somewhere along the way your hands brushed together and holding hands became the most natural thing in the world. Time flew by as you walked together, your true destination long forgotten. You were only brought back to reality when out of the corner of your eye you saw a massive mural of pro hero asscheeks. When Izuku saw what you were looking at, he groaned.

“Could you please not check out my friend’s ass while we’re on a date?” He joked, gently elbowing your ribs. You laughed.

“I mean, you can’t blame me. It’s hard to miss.” You made a mental note to tell Mei that her paint formula was holding up beautifully.

“It’s a little embarrassing. Brushstroke is talented and all, but every mural is a time I couldn’t catch them.”

Maybe it was the wine still buzzing through your system. Maybe it was the thrill of it. Maybe you just wanted to see those beautiful green eyes widen. But you couldn’t help the next words out of your mouth.

“Well you might have an easier time if you ever actually figured my quirk out.”

“Yeah I…” He stopped. Stared. “You…” He stared harder, pulling away slightly as he looked your figure up and down. “You!!!”

“Surprise?” You laughed, and grinned at him. He was always so handsome when he was angry. You weren’t scared at all as he hauled you close.

“Do you have any idea how infuriating you are?”

“Pretty good idea, actually.”

“You’ve been leading me on goose chases for months!”

You grinned “Yes, will be our anniversary soon.”

Izuku groaned as he wrapped his arms around your waste. “You irredeemable brat!”

You would have replied, but in the next second he was fiercely smashing his mouth against yours. The kiss started harsh and desperate. The results of months of teasing and flirting. It gentled as the two of you stood there in the night, soft and sweet and full of affection the two of you had yet to put into words. The thought occurred to you that you’d have to thank Mei later. Your eyes opened as the two of you pulled away for breath. You started giggling almost immediately. Izuku pressed his forehead against yours.

“What’s so funny, darling?”

You smirked. “I never thought we’d have our first kiss while being mooned by Dynamight.”

Izuku groaned loudly before sweeping you up into his arms. You squawked and clung to him.

“That’s it.” He rumbled. “I’m going to spank you when I get you home, you fucking brat.”

“Promise?” you giggled.

You didn’t mind in the least when he shut you up with another kiss.

[lightsovermonaco]

His Good Sweater: Chapter 13

Masterlist

Thanks to @acollectionofficsandshit​ for being my bestie and beta reading! This would have never happened without her ❤ Make sure you read Roman Profile, set in the same universe!

Word Count: 6.7k

Recommended song: "Cupid’s Chokehold/Breakfast in America” by Gym Class Heroes

"I have to go."

"Can't you stay five more minutes?"

"I wish."

"Come on, just a few more minutes to cuddle." Pierre flings back the fluffy duvet and holds out a hand. "Please?"

"I have an exam," you say with a sigh but bend to press a kiss to his upturned palm. "I can't skip."

Pierre groans and slings an arm over his eyes. "What am I supposed to do all day?"

"I don't have a sim but I have an old PlayStation you're more than welcome to use. I think I still have one or two games."

"That won't keep me busy."

"I'm sure you'll find something. Just stay out of trouble okay? I'd like to get my security deposit back when I finally move out of this hellhole."

"Okay," Pierre grumbles, sitting up to give you a quick kiss. "What time are you getting back?"

"Four. We can go out to dinner or something." You smooth a hand over his hair, smiling lightly. "Or we can go for a picnic and take a walk through Saint James Park."

"Sounds like a plan." He turns his head to kiss your palm. "I'll be counting down the minutes."

You roll your eyes but your smile contradicts the sass. "I'll be home before you know it. Love you, champion."

"I love you too, mon coeur."

He was endlessly grateful for how easily the two of you had fallen back into each other. When he had shown up at your doorstep he had expected there to be awkward pauses and minutes of tense silence, but there had been blissfully little of either. As the days bleed into each other, your relationship only gets steadier, closer and closer to what it used to be. Maybe it was because you had been the one to break the silence or maybe it was because he had thrown himself into his career into someone's bed- whatever the reason, it didn’t matter. He was simply grateful to be welcomed back into your life. He didn't plan on leaving any time soon.

Pierre allows himself a half hour of lounging in bed before forcing himself to get up and shower. Off weeks were hard; all he wanted to do was rest and recharge but he still had to follow his workout regimen and sleep schedule or he risked falling out of the habit, making it that much harder to get back in the groove come race week.

First order of business: clean the clutter you had shoved in closets and the spare room prior to his arrival the day before. Folding the three baskets of clean laundry took an hour, washing dishes another thirty minutes, and vacuuming the entire flat took twenty. Once the counters are spotless and there isn’t a stray sock to be found, he takes stock of your pantry and notes what staples you were running low on.

Two hours later he trudges back up the three flights of stairs to your apartment, arms laden with reusable bags packed to the gills with food. His legs burn and he's slightly winded from the excursion; at least that could count as his work out for the day.

He's just about to start slicing vegetables for dinner when his phone chimes with a text from his PR agent, Sylvie.

You're supposed to be in an interview now. Where are you?

"Oh shit." He scrambles for his laptop which of course was dead. He manages to plug it in at the dining room table and angle it so the background is mostly neutral, just a band poster framed behind him. He checks his hair before logging into the interview.

"There's the star," the interviewer says, far too chipper to be entirely genuine.

"Sorry, I was having connection issues." He queues up his signature sweetheart smile that gets him out of any squabbles. It works, the woman's irritation melting into a more easy expression.

"Let's just get right into it. Since we're low on time I'll jump right in, if you don't mind."

Pierre leans back. He had an inkling where this was headed. "By all means, please."

"We just saw news of your deal with Christian Horner- if you take seventh in this year's drivers championship, it looks like you're at Red Bull Racing next year. How does that feel after being publicly demoted mid-season in 2019?"

A smirk tugs at Pierre's lips. He had known this exact question was coming. He had debated how to answer it without starting waves and still remaining truthful. If there was one thing he prided himself on, it was his ability to be diplomatic when others may have let their egos get in the way.

"Obviously I'm grateful that Red Bull has recognized the hard work I've been putting in at Alpha Tauri," he starts. "I think I've been able to push the car as far as I can but I still have pace in me, personally. So moving into the Red Bull would let me loose, so to speak, and give me a chance to prove that Red Bull is where I belong."

"Right, you have had quite a spectacular season so far with a race win under your belt and a few podiums for good measure. What do you attribute that success to? Why is it so different now in an Alpha Tauri versus that coveted second Red Bull seat?"

Pierre purses his lips. The answer he was expected to give wasn't one he was willing to voice. Instead he opts for neutral. "I've been able to focus and hone my driving this season. I've found a groove that works for me and with it has come an insane amount of confidence, which is something I struggled with for awhile after going back to Torro Rosso. I think it's really just that I'm finally comfortable in the car and with my team and that makes a huge difference."

"Thank you for that," the journalist says and Pierre nods. "Shifting gears, I have a few questions about your personal life if you don't mind."

This was the part he always dreads. Questions were often prying and he had to subtly skirt around them in a way that offered a satisfying answer without giving away too much. It was an art he liked to think he had perfected over the years but still didn't enjoy.

"As long as you don't mind me staying silent if I don't want to answer."

The woman laughs, the sound sharp and grating. "Of course. Unless I can bribe you into giving me an exclusive."

"Likely not. But you ask the right questions and we'll see."

"You've been seen hanging around a certain London neighborhood lately- that wouldn't have anything to do with you and your lovely lady, would it?"

He had been waiting for that one, too. When the two of you had returned from Red Bull headquarters he had noticed the man taking pictures across the street. He hadn't said anything to you at the time because really, there was no point in getting you worked up when he had a plan to handle it.

The question played right into his hand, in fact. 

Pierre sits forward, folding his hands in front of him. "Actually yes. We recently got back together and if you'll let me, I would like to make a request."

The woman leans back and checks her notes. "Well it's not quite what I had planned but please," she gives a flourish with a hand, "you have the floor."

"I know driver's personal lives are something that a lot of people are interested in and that's great. I don't mind sharing things with my fans or letting them get the inside scoop, but there's some things I would rather be left alone. My relationship is one of them. I know you all took note that she hasn't been around the past couple months and if I'm being honest, it's because of comments and press coverage that invaded her privacy. I think some people forgot she was more than just a name on a screen."

Pen poised to take notes, the interviewer prompts, "You said you had a request?"

He doesn’t stop to assess the damage he had already undoubtedly done. Sylvie was probably already on the phone doing damage control with every news outlet she could get her hands on, if her muted and black square at the bottom of the screen was an indication. 

"All I'm asking is that you leave her alone. If you have questions or comments you have to make, just direct them at me. Don't follow her around asking about me. Don't comment on her posts unless you're capable of being a decent human. Just… let her live her life in peace."

Maybe he was a love sick fool, but honestly he didn't care if he lost some support from fans. If they had such strong opinions on his personal life, he would be better off without them anyway. And his team could cut him and even if he was unable to secure a seat in Formula 1 after next season, he would survive. 

But if he lost you again, he would be broken. It had taken being apart from you for him to realize it and he'd be damned if he was ever disconnected from you like that again.

"That's quite the speech."

Pierre shrugs. "It was. She's the most important thing in my life, right up there with racing.” Now that he had started down the road of truth, he found it impossible to hold his tongue. “I lost her once because people couldn't be bothered to remember that their words have consequences. I won't let it happen again."

"So you see yourself with her for a long time then?" The woman's eyes glitter with the potential of getting an even juicer tidbit from him.

Pierre’s jaw sets, muscles feathering. "That's not something I'm prepared to discuss."

The woman purses her lips and tips her head to the side. There was clearly more she wanted to say. "Well, I have to thank you for what you've given me here. My boss is gonna love the exclusive. I won't push any further. Thanks for your comments, Pierre."

"Thanks for actually being respectful."

“We aren’t all monsters.” The woman shrugs. “I can’t say I haven’t had my moments but I try to be straightforward.”

“Right, yeah. I get that you have a job to do.”

“Anyway. I look forward to seeing what you can do the rest of this season. Good luck.”

He signs off and instantly anxiety washes over him. If she twisted his words he was screwed. Sylvie would be on the phone as soon as the article was printed, no doubt trying to soothe sponsors and investors. She'd give him an earful about being respectful and not poking the bear but he'd tune it out like he always did.

The sooner he got away from Red Bull, the better.

Instead of dwelling on it he busies himself with cooking. It was one of his guilty pleasures. He always requested a full kitchen when he was staying anywhere more than a few days so that if he had the chance to make a home-cooked meal, he had the option. For tonight he had selected his favorite recipe. Parmesan-Cesar chicken wasn't normally something you would ever touch with a ten foot pole but as long as he was making it, Pierre knew you'd at least give it a try.

Music blasting in the background, Pierre sings along quietly as he unpacks the rest of the ingredients and gets to work. He does a little spin between the island and the sink, rinsing the dishes and putting them right in the dishwasher as he uses them. A clean kitchen is the mark of a great chef, his mom had told him, drilling the phrase into him when he was young.

In the middle of cutting potatoes Pierre gets a call. He only has an hour until you're home so he doesn't bother stopping, just puts it on speaker and continues measuring spices.

"Hey Daniel."

"Heard you're in London," Daniel says, Australian accent thick. "And a little birdie told me you and your lady got back together."

"We did," Pierre says, a smile splitting his face. "Finally."

"Thank god, now I don't have to listen to your drunk woe-is-me rambling anymore."

Pierre laughs and sets aside the measuring spoons. "It's not that bad."

"Oh please." Pierre could practically hear the eyes rolling. "The number of times I had to send an uber to a bar after a grand prix is insane. Charles and I should be entitled to financial compensation with the amount of babysitting we've been doing."

"I can handle myself!"

"Not after a martini you can't."

He was right there. "Is there a point to this conversation?"

"Oh right- I'm actually in town today too, got some stuff to shoot for McLaren before we head to Austria for the race next week. You guys wanna come out with us tonight? We're heading to a bar or two."

"I actually had something planned-"

"She already said she's coming!" Dan's girlfriend shouts in the background.

“Well then why even ask me?”

“To be polite,” Daniel offers with a laugh. “We’re meeting at the rooftop bar at the Trafalgar hotel at seven. That give you enough time to do whatever you had planned that’s apparently more important than seeing your best mates?”

“We’ll be there,” Pierre says and hangs up. He finishes seasoning the potatoes and pops them in the oven, finally getting a chance to sit while they cook alongside the main course.

He's on his feet a few minutes later, decluttering the last bits of mess around your flat. It was clear it hadn't had a decent cleaning in quite awhile- hopefully you'd keep it tidy now that the effort had been made. The guys would tease him endlessly if they found out he was acting like a housewife.

You arrive home just as he’s setting the table. “God, it smells amazing in here.”

“Salut, mon amour.” Hands full with hot dishes, he settles for a kiss to your cheek. “I made dinner.”

“And you cleaned,” you observe. “You were a busy boy.”

“Pyry would kill me if he found out I was laying around all day. I had to do something.” 

You hang your backpack on the hook behind the door and take a seat at the table. “Well remind me to thank him again when I see him. This looks delicious.”

Pierre grins over his shoulder at you. “Me or the food?”

You throw your head back and laugh, loud and unrestrained. “The food, you goof.”

Pierre quirks a brow. "Is that the honest answer?"

"Okay, maybe both." 

The meal is filled with your ramblings about your exam and your new hobby- this month it was hiking. You went into detail about all the few trails in the city you’d been on as well as the more challenging ones that dotted the countryside. Pierre just nods along as you talk, already planning on staying up late to learn what he could about the topic so he could be a better conversation partner.

The pair of you work together to tidy the kitchen and put away any leftovers. “Did you bring something semi nice to wear tonight or do we have to make a quick trip to the store?”

“I’ve got some Tauri stuff I can wear. And not just team gear,” he adds when you groan. “You know that cream sweater you love? The one with the logo debossed on the front? I’ve got that.”

“Oh,” you say before biting your lip. Your eyes trail down his frame and back up like you’re imagining it on him. A tingle travels up his spine under your assessing gaze. If you kept that up, neither of you would make it out of the apartment tonight. “My favorite. Yeah, wear that. It’ll be on my floor by the end of the night.”

Pierre places his hands on your waist and grins. “Will it? And what will be on the floor from your closet, hm?”

“Your favorite dress.”

“The orange one?” He realizes half a second too late that you would never know how much he adored that dress from the gala. It had hugged your curves in all the right places and left your back exposed, which would leave him free to trace patterns on your soft skin whenever he pleased. He had missed out on worshipping you in it that night and he wouldn’t mind the opportunity to do so now.

You roll your eyes. “I can’t wear that to a bar.”

“Says who?” Pierre nuzzles his face against your neck, breathing you in. A light undercurrent of sweat from your walk home from classes mingles with the usual bright scent of you, only serving to rile him up further. Never in a million years would he have guessed that a simple scent could do him in, and yet here he was, completely wrapped up in yours. 

“Says me.” You sigh, tipping your head to the side when Pierre’s nose grazes your skin.

His lips follow until he reaches your jaw before he pulls back. “What one are you wearing then?”

“Does it matter?” You cross your arms, the smirk playing on your kissable lips tempting him.

“I have to mentally prepare myself.” And if whatever you chose was too sexy, he would need to get his handsiness out of his system before the pair of you met up with Daniel and his girlfriend. The last thing he needed was to be on the front of some seedy gossip column when his plan was to ease back into it. 

You smile up at him, broad and unrestrained as if knowing your answer would affect him greatly. “The cobalt blue one that makes you stutter.”

The dress in question was just as form fitting as the orange one, but shorter and decidedly more distracting. It fell mid thigh and the spaghetti straps left your shoulders exposed, which coupled with the low back displayed a downright sinful amount of skin. You had worn it at a Torro Rosso event a couple years back and he had scarcely been able to get a full sentence out around you all night. 

“That one’s a close second.” He follows you to your room, leaving you to hunt through the closet while he digs through his suitcase, thankful that he had the foresight to check out of his hotel on the way back from Red Bull and bring his things here.

Because there was no way in hell he was missing a second of being by your side while he was in town. Every moment had to count when he had no idea when he would be able to sleep next to you again, not when the season was nearly over and there were two double headers between now and winter break. When so many variables stood between him and you, he had no problem prioritizing you over a routine workout or a full night’s rest.

Pierre changes into the sweater and a pair of dark skinny jeans well before you emerge from the bathroom. He doesn’t bother responding to Dan’s text that includes an address and reminds him to be on time, instead opting to scroll through his instagram feed. He likes a handful of posts from his fellow drivers, including one of Max actually smiling at something off camera.

“Well?”

Pierre’s head snaps up at the sound of your voice. The phone falls from his hand when he drags his eyes over your body, head to toe and back again. 

Oh, he was so fucked. 

Maybe it was selfish, but with your hair done like that, the barest brush of makeup lining your eyes and in that stunningly blue dress, he didn’t want any other man to have the privilege of laying their eyes on you. 

No, you were all his.

The moment you’re within reach, Pierre places his hands on the back of your thighs, just beneath the curve of your barely covered ass. You chuckle and tap your fingers under his chin. “Close your mouth; you’ll catch flies.”

“Just so you know, if you wear that dress I can’t be held liable for my actions.” Up to and including scaring off anyone that wasn’t Daniel or his girlfriend. No one else deserved to be blessed with your radiance. Hell, he didn’t deserve it, and yet here you stood. 

“We’ll see about that.”

**********

Daniel and his girlfriend had already made their way through a round of drinks by the time you arrive. It wasn’t Pierre’s fault he couldn’t keep his hands off you and wound up getting distracted on the drive over.

"Late as always," she greets, kissing your cheek. "Dan got us here fifteen minutes early because he wanted the table with the best view."

"Like our names wouldn't have gotten us the table if we asked," Pierre says, wrapping Daniel in a one-armed hug before kissing his girl’s cheek in a traditional French greeting. "The view is pretty great though."

You were already leaning on the glass partition, hands curled over the edge and undoubtedly leaving behind fingerprints on the pristine surface, completely unfazed by the fact that the other patrons were staring. You had eyes only for the London skyline and Trafalgar square lit up below. The bar with its white marble tabletops and strict dress code was absolutely not a place that you should be standing on your tiptoes for a better view, but there was no way he could condemn you when your face lit up like that.

Pierre just places a hand on the small of your back and shoots a look at the bartender currently glaring in your direction, daring the smartly dressed man to say anything. He only raises a brow and resumes filling drink orders.

"You guys know how to pick a place," you say, "I could stand here all night."

"Right," Daniel's girlfriend says, rolling her eyes at Pierre who shrugs as if to say what do you want me to do? He was powerless to deny you anything that brought you a semblance of joy; your smile was everything to him. “Love, why don’t you come tell us about uni? You’re the only one of us currently enrolled, and I’m sure the boys would love to hear about all the drama.”

You and Pierre share a secret grin. You shake your head but allow him to guide you back to the cocktail table. “Drama? I’m an engineering major. The closest thing we have to drama is someone grossly miscalculating a structural load.”

Dan shoots Pierre a mischievous grin. “I heard Stroll might be moving next year-”

Both you and Daniel’s girlfriend groan at the same time. “No racing talk when we’re around tonight,” she says. “I’ve heard enough lately.”

“What’s new in the publishing world?” You ask, leaning into Pierre when he wraps an arm around you. He only half listens to her explain the so-called “top secret” project she’s currently working on, instead opting to get drunk on you. 

The light breeze filtering through the surrounding buildings ruffles your hair. You lift a hand absentmindedly to tuck it behind your ear in an attempt to keep it out of your face. Everything you do is amazing to him, snagging his attention even when he should be listening to whatever it was his friends were saying. Your gravity was simply too strong to bother resisting.

“Enough talk,” Daniel’s girlfriend says, waving a hand. “You need a drink, and I want to dance. Let’s go.” Before Pierre can protest, she’s dragging you away to the glass top bar. You throw an apologetic glance over your shoulder and Pierre just winks. He was fine watching you from afar for now.

Pierre’s gaze drops to your perky ass when you lean in to let the bartender know what you want, likely shouting to be heard over the music, your dress riding up a bit with the movement. For having such a strict dress code, this place sure did feel like an upper class club.

You hook your thumb over a shoulder, the bartender’s gaze darting to Pierre before the man nods. The only explanation you offer is a wink, followed by a note on a cocktail napkin and a beer delivered a few minutes later by a server.

This is supposed to be the best beer they have. Just try it.

Leave it to you to constantly push him outside his comfort zone. Pierre tentatively sniffs the foamy glass and shrugs before taking a sip. Not bad, but he still preferred his usual whiskey. 

Setting the glass down, Pierre turns back to Daniel. “Congrats on extending your contract with McLaren by the way. Should give you a decent shot at keeping up with the big boys and landing some serious points.”

“Seems like most of us are moving around, doesn’t it? Sainz to Ferrari, Seb to Aston Martin... The only one with any sort of long term commitment is Max and now me I guess.”

“And Charles,” Pierre adds. “He’s stuck in that red monstrosity for the foreseeable future.”

Daniel laughs, taking a swig from his glass. “And you’re moving too, huh? Austria should be interesting,” Daniel remarks, watching the girls at the bar nursing their own drinks. “What with the news of your new contract breaking and all.”

“Potential contract,” Pierre corrects. “Not for sure yet.”

Daniel scoffs. “Come on mate. You won’t have any problem getting up to seventh by the end of the season. Perez is slipping and the news that his seat is in jeopardy will only help your cause.”

Pierre takes a sip of his amber beer and nods. “I’m sure Perez doesn’t appreciate it, but he’s always been a good sport.” You catch Pierre’s eye and lift your fresh flute of champagne in a mock salute. Dan’s girlfriend drags you out on the dancefloor and immediately spins you. Your laugh is nearly audible, the memory of it fresh in Pierre’s mind as he watches you.

“Mate, have you been listening to a word I’ve said?”

“I’m sorry, what?”

Daniel shakes his head and drains his drink. “I really don’t know how it took you two this long to come together. You’ve been dancing around each other for years but neither of you would admit it.”

“I could say the same about you two.”

Daniel shrugs. “Fair point. At least we got it all worked out in a weekend though.”

Pierre rolls his eyes and shoves his friend’s shoulder. “Whatever. Not all of us can have a perfect love story.” 

The grin Daniel shoots Pierre is pure sunshine. “How long are you planning on waiting before you ask her to marry you?”

“What?” Pierre sputters, nearly choking on air. “Who said anything about marriage?”

“Oh come on,” Dan says, rolling his eyes. “We all know it’s coming eventually.”

Pierre would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about it. But he wasn’t sure if it was the time for a proposal, not when you had just gotten back together. The last thing he wanted to do was go through the pain of losing you again because he was too forward.

“One day at a time,” Pierre says finally, dragging himself back to earth. “I just got her back a few days ago. I don't want to scare her off by proposing just yet.”

“Right. Well you might want to get a ring on that hand sooner rather than later,” Daniel notes, gesturing to the two men who had approached the girls. “How long are we gonna let that go on before we step in?” Neither of you paid the men any attention, instead enjoying each other’s company, but the men’s eyes roaming over your body sets Pierre on edge.

“They can handle themselves,” Pierre remarks, shifting on his feet. The weak attempt at self assurance didn’t do much to negate the red tinting his vision. “They’re fine.”

“Her sharp tongue will hold them at bay,” Daniel says, winking at his girlfriend. “For a while at least.” Props to Daniel for possessing inhuman amounts of restraint, but Pierre’s muscles were coiled and ready to interject at the first sign of trouble. 

He has to pause to remind himself he doesn't own you. You could make your own decisions about who you spoke with and who you entertained as long as he was the one to take you home. He didn't care if you wanted to flirt; he knew it meant nothing and if you got a free drink out if it then so be it. But those were the rules: flirting, no touching. He'd step in if need be if someone took it too far.

But that didn't mean he had to enjoy it.

Pierre watches tight lipped as you politely chat with the man, your body language closed off and dismissive. Pierre hates that you even speak a word to him. He knows it shouldn’t bother him because he trusts you, but the stranger is a wild card. Pierre watches like a hawk as the man inches ever closer, slowly interesting himself into your personal space. He waits for you to take a step back, to grant him that silent permission to come over and insert himself in the conversation and get his hands on you, this proving you weren't on the market.

One of the men shouts something at you over the music and you leer back at him, clearly disgusted at whatever he had said. Whirling on him, you open your mouth, likely to snap out a profanity lined retort, when his hand latches onto your arm.

"Oh, fuck no."

Half a second later, Pierre is stalking across the dance floor, no thoughts other than teaching the asshole a lesson. His hands are already curled into fists, ready to swing if the man hadn't moved by the time he arrived. Tolerating someone hitting on you was one thing, but blatantly ignoring the clear dismissals and laying a hand on you? No way in hell was he standing by and letting that happen.

The resounding crack of your open hand hitting the man’s face has pride swelling in Pierre’s chest. That’s my girl. You’d solved the problem before he’d even arrived. You jab a finger in the man’s face, Daniel’s girlfriend right there with you to back you up.

“Fuck off,” you were saying as Pierre approached, “or do you need to go back to kindergarten and learn to keep your hands to yourself? Maybe next time you’ll think twice before laying a hand on a taken woman- or any woman, for that matter.”

Driving your point home, Pierre slips an arm around your waist and pulls you in until your back is flush to his chest. You crane your neck up, the tense muscles beneath his fingertips and the fury contorting your features confirming just how rattled you are.

The lines creasing your brow are soothed away when you realize who holds you. You open your mouth to say something but Pierre places a hand on your throat, thumb and forefinger framing your jaw as he cuts you off with a kiss, his eyes locked on the guy still standing off to the side holding his cheek. 

You taste like the champagne you’d been sipping all night. It’s the only thought in his head outside of the jealousy licking through his veins like wildfire as he claims you then and there in front of the crowd. Mine, his heart sings. He flexes his fingers, taking advantage of your surprised gasp to slide his tongue against yours. Mine, mine, mine.

Pierre lets you be the one to break away, lips curling in a smug, kiss-swollen smile as you address the men. “In case you still don’t get the picture, I’m not interested. And neither is she.” You jerk your chin, indicating your friend and Daniel, who had indeed followed Pierre and since mirrored his possessive stance, one arm wrapped tightly around his own girlfriend.

The two men reluctantly slink away after mumbling something unintelligible but undoubtedly indecent. It had been a week and a half since he had been on track and he had plenty of pent up aggression to get out. He didn’t normally opt for using someone’s face as a punching back as a stress reliever, but rulers were made to be broken. Your hand splayed on Pierre’s chest is all that stops him from following and asking them to repeat themselves.

“Just let me hit him,” Pierre says, voice far more level and put together than he had expected it to be. “Just one punch. That’s all I would need.” His knuckles smart like he had already connected them to the man’s face. 

“And let you throw away your contract? I don’t think so. The last thing you need is a blurry photo of you knocking someone’s teeth in hitting the front page of every gossip mag in the country. I’m fine, so you can cut the bravado.”

“Yeah, I hear you.” 

“I was wondering how long you were gonna leave us out here,” you say, trying to regain Pierre’s attention. When it doesn’t work, you grasp his stubbled chin and force him to look at you. “I didn’t expect to be stranded for so long.”

The eye contact is what finally calms his racing thoughts. Seeing the trust reflected in your face is enough to have his grip on your waist loosening to allow you to face him. “Someone convinced me you could fend for yourself. And while it seems that’s true, I couldn’t stand it anymore.” 

Your satisfied hum is swallowed by the pounding bass but Pierre feels it rumble in his chest. “Sometimes even a queen needs saving.”

Though his point had long since been proven, Pierre’s hand slides down your back to rest on your ass nonetheless. “I knew you going out looking like this would cause trouble.”

You tip your head to the side, feigning innocence as you press your hips to his. You grin, noticing the hard on that had been bothering him all night. “Looking like what?”

“Drop dead fucking gorgeous,” he says, accentuating his point by sliding his hand up your thigh and under the hem of your dress. “You know I’m tearing this off you the second we get home, right?”

“Why do you think I wore it?”

The sound that escapes him is primal and possessive. The presence of bystanders does nothing to prevent him from palming your ass and kneading the flesh. He presses his lips to your neck and mumbles between kisses, “To torture me.”

You push lightly at his chest, laughing although your eyes dart around the space in search of cameras. Old habits were hard to break. “That may have been part of my motivation. But you’ll have to wait. I haven’t seen Dan in forever and I would actually like to have a conversation with him before we sneak off somewhere.”

At least you knew he wouldn’t be able to wait until you got home to get between your legs. “Fine,” he grumbles, hands settling on your hips. “Only because I love you.”

You beam up at him. “Love you too.”

Arm still slung around your waist, Pierre nods at Daniel and follows the other couple back to the table.

After two more drinks, you and Daniel's girlfriend are singing along to the music in lilting, off key voices, simply enjoying the night air. A stray breeze catches your hair just as you turn to look at Pierre and his heart damn near leaps out of his chest.

To his credit, Pierre’s cheeks are rosy from more than just the charged glances you throw at him as the night wears on. He was on his fourth beer, far more than he usually drank these days, and the buzzing in his head was becoming increasingly hard to ignore. When he has to squint to tell the time on his watch, he figured that was enough.

"I should probably get going mate," Pierre says, turning to Daniel. "Early flight."

Daniel laughs and beacons for the girls. He kisses his girlfriend's cheek when she returns with you in tow. "Are we leaving already?" You pout, and Pierre had half a mind to stay simply have your smile make an encore appearance.

"Car coming," he murmurs, dipping his head to give you a proper kiss. God, you were stunning in that dress- he might not be able to string together words coherently, but he knew that much. 

"Fine." You cross your arms for a split second to convey your feelings on the matter before wrapping your friends in a hug and saying your goodbyes.

Pierre's hand is already on your ass before you're in the uber. Get a few drinks in the boy and he let his guard down. You laugh and pull out of his embrace to usher him into the sleek black suv. If he had been coherent, he probably would have chatted with the driver about the specs of the engine or maybe even racing if he was a fan. Instead the ride is filled with stolen touches and sloppy, wet kisses to your neck.

"I can't wait till we're home," he mumbles. "You're gorgeous. How did I snag you? You're so far out of my league. No way should you be with me."

"I have a thing for guys that go fast in circles on the weekends." 

"Really?" Pierre frowns. "Should I be worried?"

"No. You're the only one I have eyes for." His head is fuzzier than when you left the bar but your laugh breaks through, his stomach flipping at the melody of it. "And we are home."

Pierre blinks, realizing he does indeed stand in your kitchen, with no recollection of climbing the three flights of stairs between the street and your flat. "Oh. When did that happen?"

"After I half dragged you up the stairs." You bend over to undo the straps of your heels, giving him the perfect view. He lets out a whistle that ends in a hiccup.

"Take me to bed, lover," he says in what he thinks is a husky voice. It should be impossible for you to resist.

You roll your eyes and wrap an arm around his middle. "That's the plan. I'll take you to bed, strip you out of that sweater, and you'll be asleep before your head hits the pillow."

"Nnnnnno," he protests, hand sliding down your exposed back to settle at the base of your spine. "I wanna make the most of tonight. I leave tomorrow."

"You don't leave until noon," you point out. "Plenty of time to nurse your hangover and have fun before then, after you drink some water and get some sleep."

"But baby-"

"No buts. Do as I say or I'll send you off tomorrow without a goodbye kiss."

Even in his half drunken state he knew it was a swiss cheese lie, spotted with holes and completely stale. You'd never let him leave without a kiss goodbye because neither of you knew if it would be the last time. He was a race car driver after all, and that came with risks. 

But he sighs anyways and slips off the cream sweater, letting it fall to the floor. At least one of you kept their promises. 

After confirming he was settled into bed, you retreat to the bathroom. His heart aches at the absence, even though you're mere feet away with nothing but a thin door separating the two of you. He registers the sound of the tap turning on and your soft, off key humming of the last song he remembered hearing before getting out of the uber.

"Mon amour," he croons when you re-emerge in a set of silk pajamas. He reaches out his hands for you and you slide under the covers, immediately slotting your body against his. A leg hitches over his hip, tugging him closer until your middles touch.

"Mmm," he mumbles, nuzzling into your neck. "Je t'aime. Tu es l'amour de ma vie et nous vivons d'amour et d'eau fraîche."

"I have no idea what you're saying," you whisper, running your fingers through his hair. "But I like it. Feel free to keep going."

"Tes baisers sont du feu et je fond à ton toucher." He presses his lips to your neck before resuming his mumbled French. "Je pense toujours à toi. Je veux être avec toi pour toujours. Tu as mon cœur et je ne voudrais pas qu'il en soit autrement."

"I like the sound of that." You press a soft, sweet kiss to his forehead. God, that tenderness was why he loved you. That, and your personality, and your eyes, and your… everything. "Dormir, my love. I'll be here to listen to your pretty words in the morning."

The single word of his mother tongue on your lips has him smiling. "Oui, tu le feras. Parce que tu es à moi et je suis à toi."

@seasidetom @flashcal @limp-wrist-max​ @sunshinesewis @lifeofzoemichael @ninuffi @perfectfantasies22 @lamboleglerg @ladyperceval @0forgottenparadise0 @evie-pr @avsensio @ninuffi @lu-morningstar @ggaslyp1 @swiftyhowlz

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged in future updates!

[silvanable]

If request are open, could I ask for Theo, Vincent, Leo, Arthur and Dazai finding out that MC is a manga artist/writer? Thank you so much!!

this is such a cute idea. as an artist and writer myself i take enormous pleasure it writing this and their reactions.

i switched these up a little bit, where the mc is an artist for one, a writer for another, and maybe both for yet another! i hope you enjoy~

↪  GUIDELINES

ー ARTHUR CONAN DOYLE

arthur just happens to find out on accident.

he knew that they had their hobbies and never really pried into that, it was something they did in their pastime just like how he was with his writing.

it just so happened to be that he was passing by the parlor when he noticed them inside with... was that his manuscript? and what were those other papers there?

nosiness curiosity got the best of him as he slips into the room to see what the mansion’s little visitor is up to.

he is, for once in his life, quite surprised to find the dear hunched over a pad of paper with a pencil in their hand.

he was quiet for a moment, examining what they were doing— which was clearly not writing— as their instrument moved over the page.

they shifted to look up at his manuscript, flipped a page, and was about to go back to their work when the noticed something from the corner of their eye.

arthur had leaned over the each of the seat, gaze fixed on the drawings in their lap and strewn about the table and seat.

the poor dear practically jumped out of their skin.

“arthur! don’t scare me like that!” they scolded him, face flush as they quickly tried to scramble and cover up their work.

“ah, was just curious to what you were doing, love,” he would flash them a grin and snatch up one of their papers before they could grab it.

“arthur, give it back!” they yelled in protest but he was far too quick for them.

his eyes scanned over the page, taking in the delicate lines of each character’s face and their expression, the texture and the design of the scenery and then his eyes fell to the dialogue...

“is this... holmes?” the genuine curiosity in his voice as he holds the paper out to them.

they try to snatch the page back but he jerks it up out of their reach before they can.

“yes okay! i’m sorry— i just saw your manuscript and i started reading it and... well, i just got inspired.”

now it has him curious and when arthur sets his mind to something, whether it be to unravel a mystery or get his questions answered, he’s going to get those answers.

after some encouragement, they finally admit to being a manga artist from their time— which as arthur understood was a unique artist who creates art to tell a story instead of words.

he is actually quite proud about the fact that his story is what motivated and drew out this creativity in them to the point they wanted to draw a ‘manga’ of his stories.

he absolutely keeps the page and a few other of their drawings he snatched up, every now and then when he’s working he finds himself drifting off to stare at it with a small smile.

ー DAZAI OSAMU

dazai was a writer and it seemed that the newest guest at the mansion was too.

of course, he never seemed to bring that up, as it seemed the writers of the mansion kept to themselves and wrote privately.

that was until the little darling had come stumbling up the stairs with an armful of paper.

of course they had not been looking where they were going, being rather preoccupied with trying to scribble down god-knows-what onto one of the pages, and walked straight into dazai as he was coming down.

he had acted fast, grabbing their wrist before they could tumble down the stairs, but the paper in their arms was less fortunate and thrown into the air.

“if you wanted to see me, ume-san, you could have just said so,” he greeted with his usual light and teasing voice.

the poor dear was flustered and apologizing profusely as they ducked around him, desperately trying to collect all of their paperwork.

well he was not just about to leave them like that, so dazai stooped to help them, only to find when he tried to reach for something they were quick to snatch it away.

the two made eye contact, both a look of surprise, as they stuttered out, “you don’t have to help— i dropped them.”

the reaction was rather cute but also he felt partially responsible, and because of this it became a game of who could snatch up what before the other.

“i— just— thanks, i’ll take those now!” the dear tried to take the papers from his hands once they were all collected, but the vampire danced around them breezily.

“why is toshiko-san so eager to get these back, hm?” he teased, flitting through what he had collected.

at first it was merely to poke fun, as he and arthur were known to do to people like poor isaac, but as he glanced over the notes and what looked like crude drawings he became intrigued.

those piercing golden eyes came up to a rather flustered person across from him, clearly embarrassed at having their work looked at.

���these are quite interesting,” his tone took on a strange seriousness as he handed them back, “what are they?”

even as flustered as the dear is, they take back their papers and shuffle them protectively in their arms, mutter a, “manga scripts and design ideas...”

of course the term was somewhat familiar to him, briefly recalling it being a rising trend before he died.

would become rather curious and invested in hearing about what the dear did in their time, finding it quite interesting that not only were they a writer but worked with artists to translate their stories visually.

ー LEONARDO DA VINCI

leonardo found it quite cute when he came across their little guest in their free time, seemingly distracted by whatever papers they had in their lap and strewn about them.

it was a reoccurring thing to find them like this as he wandered through the mansion on his way to his next nap.

this time though, that building curiosity of what they were doing finally seemed to reach the max and flood over as he approached them.

they did not seem to notice him from their seat on the floor until he was about a hairsbreadth from the side of their face.

“cara mia?” curse love languages not having gender neutral terms in their ear, causing the poor dear to jump out of their skin.

it was a wonder they didn’t headbutt in him the process and they all but threw themself across the floor to create some distance.

leonardo’s laughter was rather helpful to quell their panic, only for it to swift to a soft rage.

“leo— don’t ever do that again!” they scolded but by now the man had been distracted by the papers that had been haphazardly thrown in the dear’s attempt to flee danger.

golden eyes flickered over the pages as he gathered them up, some written over while other seemed to have sketches of what looked like persons.

they were quick to scramble back up to their feet and snatch the papers from leonardo, their face an uncharacteristically bright shade of red as they mumbled out, “they’re not ready yet...”

though their reaction and expression only seemed to encourage the vampire, after all, things that intrigued him he always pursued to understand investigate.

a soft hum escaped his lips as he looked down at them, only to snatch up another set up papers, ignoring the squeaks and protests to ‘don’t read it yet!’.

there was no getting them back at this point, as he used his height to his advantage against them, holding the pages high as he examined him.

and it suddenly made sense, it looked like a script and these little doodles were scenes from the scripts.

“quite creative, your story here,” leonardo handed back the pages to their flustered creator, “what is it?”

they hesitated as them shuffled the papers, hesitating for a moment before quietly, “a manga idea, something from my time, like a visual story.”

if he had not been intrigued before leonardo most certainly was now and he wanted to know exactly what sort of story they were making.

of course, he doesn’t push but he is more than willing to lend an ear for them to listen to the passionate and eager descriptions of their characters and, if needed, offer a suggest or two when they’re stuck.

ー THEODORUS VAN GOGH

having the lost pup new guest at the mansion following him while he worked was just a way to keep them out of trouble and help him out.

of course, he had never expected them to take such an interest in art as they had, marveling at every little detail, asking questions when they weren’t with a customer, and practically hanging onto every detail theo would spare.

he would never have guessed that everything they had picked up and learned from him on the job they were translating into their own work.

theo was never one particularly nosy and whatever they did in their spare time was their business as long as it didn’t mess with anything or anyone.

so imagine his irritation when they are late for breakfast and sebastian asks for him to go get them?

he walks in, ready to grab them by the arm and drag them out of their room so he might get the chance to enjoy his pancakes for a few moments of peace.

instead, he waltzes into their room finding them pouring over their desk with numerous pages scattered over the surface and stuck against the wall... and most any available space it seemed.

at first he was ready to ask them what sort of mess they were making but stopped as he began to draw closer and examine what they were doing.

it looked like they were... drawing? not that he would judge their strange style, as he was a promoter of the arts that were outside of the norm.

“oi, hondje,” he calls out to them, placing a hand on their head in a familiar way.

the squeak they make is almost laughable but he doesn’t have the chance before they recover and looking up at him quizzically.

“why are you awake so late?” it was a genuine question.

“late? it’s morning already, did you stay up all night?” theo is quick to shoot back, only to receive an even more confused expression.

that answered his question.

“what are you even working on that you would forget to sleep? i can’t have you dozing off at work you know,” he leans down over their desk and they suddenly get shy.

they are subtle, or at least try to be, as they shuffle papers and cross their arms over them, mumbling a soft ‘nothing’.

theo doesn’t take it though and instead turns his gaze up to the art displayed literally all over the room.

before they can even think to snatch drawings away he’s already asking questions, “did you draw these?” 

it takes a moment for them to respond, as they mull over a way to answer, but finally cave in to an explanation.

“yeah, i did,” they paused, expectantly staring but theo only waved his hand for them to continue.

“for a manga—something from my time, they, um, tell stories through pictures,” they explained, spreading out the papers on the desk again, “and i got an idea last night so...”

theo is thoroughly impressed, of course they have to explain further about the detailing and techniques— he’s going to ask after all.

there are times where theo will actually watch them draw, he likes to see artists in their element and this is something entirely new he wants to learn more of.

expect that he will have a sketch or two from them, would deny it, but he keeps it in the breast pocket of his coat.

ー VINCENT VAN GOGH

vincent found it quite enjoyable having another person at the mansion, especially with how they spent time with him.

of course he knew they were an artist too, it had come up one day when they were together, while he was painting and they seemed to be doing something in their notebook.

he had asked about their work and if they would let him see but they seemed to get flustered, so he let it rest, after all he wasn’t going to force them.

but still they came around to spend afternoons together, drawing or painting, in silence with the occasional conversation.

one day that they had stayed out rather late in the garden, vincent hadn’t noticed the time passing until it was too dark to continue.

as he packed up his things, he was talking, but got no response back from his friend, and when he turned around to check if they were gone, he found them asleep on the ground.

he felt rather back for not noticing earlier, seeing as the ground probably wasn’t all that comfort and that they hadn’t said how tired they were— he wouldn’t have asked them to spend time outside if they needed rest!

vincent was quiet as he approached their sleeping form, ready to gently rouse them as he outstretched his hand, but stopped as something caught his eye.

in the evening sun, the pages from their notebook were illuminated by the fading sun.

he didn’t mean to pry, truly, but he couldn’t help curiously picking up the book and examining the pages.

some were full of notes, others these beautiful drawings, and more still with a combination of both.

one drawing in particular had caught his eye, a series of scenes it seemed, of someone who looked a lot like him making his way to the gardens and painting...

“mhmm... vincent?” they peeked an eye open groggily, rubbing their face as they looked up at him sitting beside them.

“is it dark already? i’m sorry i didn’t mean to fall asleep—” they sat up, stretching, only to stop halfway through the motion when they saw their notebook in his hand.

they flushed red but vincent only smiled sweetly as he offered them the book back.

“i like your drawings,” he said softly, “they’re very beautiful.”

they were hesitant but took back their notebook, redder if it were possible, as they mumbled a ‘thank you’.

“who were the other people in your drawings?” vincent asked as he stood, holding out a hand towards them.

“uh, well,” they accepted and were pulled to their feet as they explained, “they’re fictional—not real—for a story i was doing...”

vincent cocked his head cutely to the side as he listened, “what kind of story?”

“a visual on, a manga from my time,” they explained as the both of them began to gather up their supplies.

on the way back to the mansion, vincent listened as they explained, he found it quite interesting that someone would paint out a story, but enjoyed the idea.

vincent finds the whole idea quite fascinating and often asks them about their stories afterwards.

they are still flustered to show him many of their drawings, but vincent is sweet about it each time, and has invited them to try painting their ideas on a canvas saying he would love to see how their style reflects.

definitely adores all their drawings, his favorite ones are when they do simple doodles of the members of the mansion, often claiming they’re not great, but he loves them.

absolutely reads their manga stories, whatever they’re willing to let vincent read and he is enthralled by the stories and characters.

[lakesandquarries]

Tangled Up - Chapter One

for I am a tardigrade, and I'll stay at home

Benrey's spent 26 years living in a tower - 27, tomorrow. When a thief breaks into his tower, he finds his chance to escape and takes it.

Alternatively: Tangled, but the AI is self aware.

(featuring art by @kenas-artstuff​ )

Notes: check ao3 for warnings and tags! “kane radio” is just gordon using a fake name. fic title from “tangled up” by caro emerald, chapter title from “tardigrade song” by cosmo sheldrake.

Happy valentines day!!! hope you enjoy <3

AO3 Link

This is not the first time Kane’s come to tied up. It’s not even the first time this week. However, it is the first time he’s come to tied up with ropes made of human hair, and the first time he’s come to with a fucking raccoon shoving its nose in his ear.

So maybe he screams a little. Anyone would! It’s a reasonable reaction. 

The hair around his wrists is a shiny blue-black, tough when he pulls at it. Is all hair like that? Is it one of those things that’s fragile individually but super tough all together? Seems like it, because it’s not even budging.

He’s so caught up that he doesn’t notice the person in the shadows until they’re holding out a crowbar, tilting up his chin.

“Yo,” they say, quiet and monotone. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

Kane screams again.

They’re weird looking. Pale, really pale, to the point that Kane wonders if something is wrong with them, and with a dark shadow around their eyes like a bruise that makes him sure. They’ve got on a long dress, all dark blues and lace and fancy embroidery, the kind of thing you’d either have to be rich to buy or have a lot of spare time to make. Their eyes are a bright, bright yellow, almost glowing, sclera a pale blue, and their hair is the same blue-black as the hair around Kane’s wrists - oh, it’s the same hair, isn’t it? Fuck, it’s long.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” the guy says again. “You got, uh. ID? Passport?”

“Passport?” This is - this is insane. This cannot be happening. “What the fuck,” he mumbles, repeating it to himself a few times, “what the fuck, who - who are you?”

The man tilts his head up with his crowbar. "No, no. I asked you first. You're in my house, I ask the questions." His eyes narrow, almost translucent in the light. "What're you doing here? How'd you find me? You gonna steal shit?" His hand goes to his hair, tugging on the blue-black strands. "Gonna steal my hair?"

"Steal your - why would I steal your hair?" The crowbar is cold against his throat, pressing harder every time he speaks. "And aside from that, I'm not here to steal anything. I thought this place was empty so I could use it for - as a shelter! Happy now?" His tone stays steady, confident even, but his hands clutch at the armrests desperately.

“You - huh?” The crowbar pulls back, just enough that Kane’s head can drop, and he sucks in a deep breath while he still can. The crowbar moves away entirely for a moment, as the stranger steps aside to have a whispered conversation with his pet raccoon.

Yeah, this day is weird enough for that to seem normal. Between stealing the prince’s royal helmet, ditching his partner, getting chased by a guard dog, and now this - it’s certainly been a day. 

While the guy’s busy, Kane glances around, taking in the sights of the tower. It’s small. Homey. There’s a bed, a kitchen, a couch, bookshelves full of video games and a handful of books. The walls are covered, floor to ceiling, in paintings. When he looks up he realizes it’s not just the walls, the ceiling is painted too. Even the furniture has tiny doodles and carvings in it.

The crowbar slides against his throat again, cutting off his train of thought. "Is it just you?” the stranger asks. “No, uh. Backup? Not gonna...." he trails off, looking at his raccoon again, then back to Kane. "Who are you?"

He gives the man the best smile he can manage, under the circumstances, and says, “I’m Kane. Kane Radio.”

“Kane,” the man repeats. There’s a long pause where the two of them just stare at each other, before he finally adds, “Benrey.” Suddenly he tugs on his hair, pulling Kane closer to him and pushing the crowbar aside. “I wanna make a deal with you.”

“Uhh, yeah, could you get me out of your...hair, first? If that is your hair.” He doesn’t have time to make deals, and he doesn’t like the way Benrey repeated his name. Could he….? No, there’s no way. Kane’s been careful to erase any trace of Gordon Freeman. Of all people to blow his secret it’s not gonna be some random hermit living in a tower. He swallows, appreciating the lack of metal at his throat. “To be honest, I’d rather -”

Aaaand there goes the crowbar again. Shouldn’t have gotten confident. "You're lucky I'm gonna let you leave," Benrey says, voice low. Suddenly he doesn't seem like just a weird guy in a tower. Suddenly he seems like a threat. A choked yelp claws out of Kane’s throat as Benrey tugs on his hair again, pulling Kane close enough that he can see his unnaturally sharp teeth. "Wanna try that again?"

He barely processes the words, focused on the man - man?? - in front of him, the sharp teeth and glowing eyes and the crowbar pressing his throat shut, or maybe that’s just anxiety. It occurs to him that maybe this guy isn’t human. 

His smile is nowhere near its usual confidence, but he tries to grin anyway. “S-so, uh, what...what was that deal? Benrey?”

Benrey’s face splits into a grin, and suddenly he’s just...a guy again. A weird guy! A weird, unsettling guy, with eyes that are too bright and teeth that are too sharp and hair that is way too long, but a guy. The crowbar is lowered and Benrey steps back, clambering up his fireplace and pulling back a red curtain. Behind it is...a painting? Still semi-fresh, from the looks of it, in the same style that all the other paintings are. This one depicts the floating lanterns they do for the prince's birthday. There’s all sorts of colors, blue and silver and pink and green, and below the sky is a hill with a small figure on it with long black hair.

"You know what these are?" he asks, pointing a finger at a pink light.

Kane exhales slowly. Benrey’s gonna push that crowbar against him again any second now, so he might as well enjoy breathing while he can. Fuck, he’d almost rather go back outside and deal with the guard dog that chased him here. “Yeah,” he says, voice shaking, and he clears his throat before he continues. “The lanterns for the lost prince.” Is Benrey fucking with him? Everyone knows the lanterns. Kane’s never even been to a lantern ceremony himself but he still knows what they are. He’d need a serious head injury to forget that, and while his head hurts a bit it’s certainly not that bad. 

Benrey does not seem to be fucking with him, because he does a little cheer and fist pump. “I knew they weren’t stars,” he mumbles to himself, before turning back to Kane. Louder, he says, "I want you to take me there. To see 'em." He pulls the curtain back over and jumps down from the mantle, landing on the floor with a heavy thud. "Think you can manage that? Just there and back and I don't, uh. Y'know." He glances at the window. Kane follows his gaze, picturing Benrey launching his body out of it, and shudders. "Pretty good deal, I think."

Kane’s breath comes out in a panicked hiss.”W-well, that's not really a good idea right now, since I shouldn’t show my face in the kingdom right now considering I -" oh shit. "Oh shit. My satchel! Where is my satchel?!"

Benrey raises an eyebrow, smirking at him. “Oh, the bag thingy? I hid it. Mine now.” His smug face is the most infuriating thing Kane has ever seen, and he’d be throwing a punch if he wasn’t fucking tied to a chair. Benrey continues, "If you want it, you gotta earn it. You take me to the lanterns, I give you your satchel. Deal?"

Hid it. He said he hid it, so it’s….somewhere in here, probably, and once Kane realizes that it’s easy to figure out. He nods his head at a flowerpot. “It’s in there, huh?”

Benrey raises the crowbar again.

Oh, shit. “W-wait, no no no, no need to hit me!” He shuts his eyes, wishing he could move his arms to protect himself. He does not need any more head trauma, thank you very much. 

This guy really won’t hesitate to kill him, huh? This stupid deal is his only real option. Kane sighs, keeping his eyes shut. "L-look, I'll keep my eyes shut like this? And you can hide my satchel somewhere else. No peeking. I'll agree to the deal. Just - my head already feels like splitting."

A pause. Kane almost considers opening his eyes but keeps them shut. Finally he hears Benrey’s voice again. “No peeking,” he repeats. There’s a series of shuffling noises, bare feet and raccoon claws against the floor, and then a moment later: “Okay. You can open your eyes.”

The satchel is nowhere to be seen, without even a hint to where it might be hiding. He sighs, head dropping forward before he looks up at Benrey again. "If I'm gonna agree to this, let me ask at least one question. Why do you wanna see them so badly, and why would you need an escort for that?"

Benrey’s face goes blank. “Uhhhh,” is all he says, followed by a long pause, leaving Kane worried he broke him somehow, but finally Benrey continues. "That's, uh. None of your business. 's just - it's, uh, dangerous. Out there. For me. Need a....need a guide."

Huh. Sheltered, maybe? Benrey seems...well, a little off, to be blunt. He can’t be much younger than Kane is, but he doesn’t even know about the lanterns. Overprotective parent seems a likely answer, but whatever the reason, now’s not the time to pry. “Alright, yeah, none of my business. Okay. We go see the lanterns, come back, you give me the satchel, yeah? Deal?”

“Deal,” Benrey agrees.

“Okay. Does that mean you can untie me now?”

-----

The thing about spending 27 years in a tower, knowing that this is where you’re going to spend your entire life, is that when you get the option to leave it’s kind of the scariest thing imaginable.

Kane’s already climbed down, leaning against a tree while Benrey stands on the ledge. Physically, he’s ready. He’s got his hair wrapped around the lever, ready to swing down, ready to go, to get out of the stupid fucking tower and out into the real world, except -

Except -

“You are never leaving this tower.” Zeki’s hands are on his shoulder, nails digging in. “Do you understand?”

Benrey reaches back, trying to grab at the closet. “But -”

“The outside world isn’t safe for you. You aren’t safe for it. If you went outside, you know what would happen?”

“Huh?”

“Look at you.” She grabs his hand roughly, pulling him over to the mirror. “They’ll take one look at you, and they’ll know, and then what? You’ll fight back. You’ll hurt people. You’re dangerous.”

It’s nothing new, but. He thinks about the man he has stuffed into his closet. He didn’t hurt him. He’ll be fine! “But -”

“This isn’t up for discussion. You. Are not. Leaving. Ever. Do you understand me or not?”

He stares at the mirror, looking between himself and Zeki. She’s looked the same as long as he can remember, brown hair always pulled into a bun and dark green eyes, pale skin but not in the same way Benrey is pale. She’s human. He’s not. And she’s right, that anyone who looks at him is gonna know. That’s why he’s up here, where it’s safe. Where no one can hurt him. And, more importantly, where he can’t hurt anyone else.

“I understand,” Benrey mumbles.

“Good.”

“I, uh. I thought of - I came up with something better. For a, uh. Birthday thingy.”

Zeki turns away from the mirror, towards Benrey. “Oh?”

“You got me that - the paint. Last year. The white one?”

“That’s a long trip,” she says, pursing her lips. 

“I won’t ask about the. The stars. Or going outside. Or anything of that. I’ll, uh -” He glances at the dresser, the one where she keeps her lab coat. “I’ll make up for it.”

There’s a glint in her eyes, sharp like her favourite knife. “Fine. I’ll get you the paint.” Her face softens as she places a hand on Benrey’s head. “I’m only doing this to protect you.”

“I know,” he mumbles, as she steps away to gather her things. “I know.”

“Benrey?” Kane yells. “Are you gonna move or what?”

He jumps.

The fall is intense. Wind in his hair, sun on his face, watching the ground get closer - oh that’s close. Oh that’s very close. He stops just a few inches off the ground, hesitating once again. There’s no going back from this. The grass is so much greener than he expected, bright and shiny in the sun, drops of dew still lingering, and before he can spiral further he puts his foot down. When nothing happens - no monster appears, no pit opens up and swallows him - he puts both feet on the ground, the blades of grass tickling him. 

A quick tug, and he pulls his hair down from the lever, watching it fall to the ground, and then joins it. The grass is still damp underneath him, but the sun above is warm. He’s getting covered in dew and dirt and bits of grass and he can’t find it in him to care, busy savoring the feeling he’s dreamed of for so long. 

It’s not until he stands up that he realizes the bulk on his hair landed directly on Kane. He starts shoving hair aside, Jefferem lending a set of tiny hands as extra help. “You good?” Benrey asks, as Kane’s head becomes visible.

Kane huffs, struggling to stand. “Apart from being attacked by your mane, yeah, I'm fine. Can you help me out?”

Benrey holds out an arm. Pulling Kane up proves easier than he thought, and he pulls a little too hard, almost slamming Kane into him, the two of them pressed together for a moment before  Kane coughs and steps back. Benrey takes a moment to half-heartedly brush some dirt and grass out of his hair and off his clothes, looking at Kane. “Guide time?”

Kane blinks at him, not bothering to clean off his clothing. “Uh - yeah. Guide time. Let’s go!” His steps are loud as he walks away. 

Benrey’s footsteps are almost inaudible as he follows, crowbar gripped tight in his hands. The initial adrenaline is starting to fade, doubt settling in. Maybe this was a bad idea. It’s not too late to turn around and go back. 

He shakes his head. Lost in his own thoughts, he’s fallen behind, and he has to sprint to catch up. Hoping not to zone out again, he starts talking, letting the first thing he can think of fall out of his mouth. “The lights - the lanterns. You said they were for a...prince?”

They enter a small stone tunnel as Kane answers. His voice is soft. “Every year, on the prince’s birthday, the kings - and the whole kingdom - release a swarm of lanterns,” he explains, voice echoing. It turns theatrical as he continues. “See, their little boy was snatched away as a baby, by an evil wizard! Or...something like that, at least. They’re hoping the lanterns will bring him back.”

“On his birthday?” Benrey echoes. Weird coincidence. A moment passes while Benrey busies himself with touching the walls of the tunnel. “And they still haven’t found him? Why’re they still doing the lanterns if it doesn’t work?”

Kane’s voice is softer, more subdued when he responds. "The kings still have hope that their baby boy will return someday. It's a very human thing in my opinion."

Ah. Human thing. That explains why Benrey doesn’t understand.

Kane pokes his head through the ivy, waiting a moment before ducking back and lifting it to let Benrey through. “We’re clear.”

Raising an eyebrow, Benrey repeats, “Clear?” Is something following them, or is Kane just paranoid? Or maybe Benrey is reading too much into things. Maybe it’s normal to check for stuff like that. Not like he would know.

"Ah - well, I told you earlier, didn't I? The kingdom and I aren't... quite buddy buddy at the moment." As they walk, he keeps looking around, eyes darting back and forth. "But don't worry, it shouldn't be a big problem for our objective."

Oh. Maybe he should’ve paid more attention to what Kane was saying earlier. Too late for that now, though. “So I was right? You a little - thief boy, huh? Stealing shit?” It’s mostly a guess, but he can’t picture this guy doing any real crime. His satchel probably had some stolen shit in it and that’s why he wants it back so bad. Well, better to team up with a criminal than a guard or something, considering all the rules Benrey’s breaking.

“Why do you keep insisting I steal shit?” Kane asks, looking away from Benrey. He doesn’t even give him time to answer, immediately following it with, “Hey, you hungry?”

Immediately changing the subject, huh? Now that’s suspicious. Admittedly he is a little hungry, and curious about where they’d be getting food out here. “Only if you’re not gonna steal it.”

Kane’s mouth screws up, eyes narrowing with a scoff. “I know a good place to get food. On our way, too. My friend works there.”

Oh shit, other people. He hesitates a moment before nodding. “Sure. Sure, yeah.”

Kane squints at him again. “You're not really an outside person huh? Have you...Have you ever been outside before?”

Damn, okay, just gonna straight up ask. Benrey opens his mouth to answer and then stops. “You answer my question first.” He’s not looking at Kane as he talks, eyes on the road ahead.

A groan in response, and then, “Fine, neither of us get an answer, then.” Kane picks up his pace, quickly getting ahead of Benrey.

“Someone’s grumpy,” Benrey mutters, rushing to catch up again. Kane’s anger surprises him. “I don’t care if you are. I’m breaking like....every rule possible just being here.” He pauses, scuffing at the dirt. “‘s all cool. Y’know. Be gay, do crime.”

Kane bursts into laughter, stopping in the road for a second. “Real rebel, huh?” he asks, shooting Benrey a grin that he returns nervously. “Fitting, then, for you to break out with a thief.”

Benrey’s grin widens, delighted. “Hah! I was right.”

“Yeah, yeah, congratulations, Blueberry.” The smile twists at the corners, as Kane leans closer to Benrey. “But that means we’re in my business now. So what about yours? You said you're breaking every rule right now. So... you weren't allowed outside that tower for some reason?”

That same empty expression makes a return as Benrey freezes. Twirling a strand of hair around his fingers, he clears his throat, forcing himself to start moving again. Walked right into that one, huh? And he’s not a coward, he’s not gonna refuse to answer after he finally got Kane to admit something. “Yeah,” he mumbles. “I, uh. Yeah. Not allowed. Very not allowed.”

If Zeki knew what he was doing right now - she’d kill him. Worse than kill him. Beside him, Kane’s gaze is soft, head tilted and eyebrows furrowed. 

“Well…” he starts, “sometimes, you just gotta do what feels right, even if it hurts or makes someone mad. Trust me on that, I know from experience.” To punctuate his last words, he nudges against Benrey’s arm, almost affectionate. Benrey jumps for a second, hand darting to touch the spot Kane had brushed against, almost expecting it to feel different somehow. But no, it’s just his arm. 

“Experience,” he repeats quietly. “Uh, yeah. I mean - I’m here.”

“That you are, Mr. Independent.”

[mihidecet]

Sbi&CO d&d AU: A Familiar Face (1/?)

WELCOME WELCOME EVERYONE! Today, the tournament arc begins! I do hope you’ll enjoy this ahahah

I dedicate this to all the wonderful people of the Au’s Discord - hit me up if you wanna join! Also, a special thank you to @traitorous-bisexual and @awebo without whom this arc wouldn’t exist <3

Finally, before we start: make sure you check out @whatimevendoinhere , @spout1nk and (soon) @julius-ranch for art and fanfics about the AU!!

It was a lovely morning. 

The sun shined through the tinted windows, turning the light a soft orange glow that lessened the glare of it against his eyes. 

It was a welcome respite: during the months that involved preparing the tournament, days were quick to melt together, nights becoming just darker afternoons as Scott and everyone around him hurried to make everything look ready for the contestants' arrival. So, not having the sun shine directly into his eyes as he looked over the final challenges that had been chosen for the tournament was a relief. The cup of warm tea by his desk was also a saving grace.

Stifling a yawn, Scott figured that he could let himself take a stroll. Maybe open up his window, let the room freshen up a bit. 

With his window overlooking one of the many parks inside the Academy, maybe he could distract himself for a moment and see if his protege had finally started warming up to his teammates. 

That plan had flown out of the window almost immediately. Or maybe it would be better to say that it had flown into the window, along with a green tipped arrow that had suddenly appeared in his field of vision. 

Now, Scott hasn't been adventuring for a while, but it would be foolish to think that he's forgotten how the world works - with a flick of his wrist, a translucent dome of purple arcane energy materializes between him and the incoming arrow, which impacts with the barrier a split second later. The tip goes through, piercing the veil of his magic, and for a terrifying moment Scott thinks it's not gonna stop, but it simply stops, held in place as if caught in a web. 

Which is a relief, the amateur that tried to attack him - an Archmage, in the middle of his own Academy - failed to get their first shot in and this will give him the time to step back and call his most trusted in order to quickly and efficiently get rid of the problem at hand. He has other more pressing matters to attend to, he's not going to waste his time on this. 

As his Shield spell fades, it congeals like a shimmering second skin over his upper arm. Maybe calling the guards isn't that pressing, he's got this. 

Or maybe he doesn't, he thinks as he get a second, much more terrifying surprise - in the span of a couple of seconds, he really can get no breaks.

A figure materializes in the air in front of him, with a dark hood over their head that covers most of their features except for a huge - terrifying - grin and an intricate bow strapped to their back.

The figure appears with a puff of iridescent smoke, crouched in the air as if they'd been in the process of jumping before they decided to teleport, and- crashes into him, the force of the impact and the shock of it happening making him lose his balance and start falling back. 

There's a moment where Scott is confused: is this some sort of strange tactic? Did the stranger misjudge their trajectory? Are they going to wrestle on the ground as if they weren't both magic users? 

Then, a brief split second of panic - he didn't look what the stranger was holding, and he is currently falling on his back. He is going to get stabbed, at the very least, and that conviction is only made stronger as he feels the stranger's arms close in around him. 

But then, Scott has simply enough time to blink in shock, as the arms just wrap around his back, before his world is literally turned upside down.

One moment he is falling on his back, already anticipating the pain of a knife to the back - please no vital organs, spare him the need for an extremely expansive healer. The next the is wrapped in a hug and grunting in pain as his knees impact with the ground. 

"Ah, fuck that hurt- Scotty are you alright?" 

Scott refuses to believe this. He pushes against the chest under him - the arms give, letting him go - and finds himself face to face with a sight that is both very familiar and weirdly unusual. 

"You-" Scott says, tone an unconvincingly mix of menacing and angry as he jabs a finger into the not-so-stranger's chest -"Are lucky to be alive. I could have murdered you."

Hbomb's worried glance instantly brightens, despite Scott's best hopes, and he throws his head back to laugh. No matter how irritated he is at his friend, he can't help but huff out a laugh himself, and a moment later they're both chuckling together on the floor. By all the gods, it has been some time.

"You are a dumbass, H. You couldn't just use the door? You know, like a normal person?!" Scott asks, holding himself up on his left elbow because H has always been one to laugh with his whole body and Scott is still recovering from jamming his knees into the floor, he's not in the mood to be jostled around by an enthusiastic ranger. 

"Aw, Scotty, aren't you happy to see me?" The half-elf asks, putting a hand on his chest as he fails to pretend he's insulted. Scott flicks his nose. 

"Ah- that hurt!"

"I know, I meant it to hurt. Now, do you want to tell me what you're doing here? And what is that doing on your face?" Scott demands, serious at first until he realises that H has been growing out his beard well past what he considers to be a good length - H's pout is barely visible under all that scruff.

"Well, now, that is unnecessarily rude. I've been traveling for a while now, and I wasn't gonna risk injuring myself-" Scott grabs a wandering hand and brings it back on H's chest. 

"H." Hbomb has a tendency of gesticulating when his hands aren't being kept busy, and while he did figure that his friend had simply forgotten to shave, he has known him long enough to be able to recognise when H is going off on a tangent - which is perfectly fine - and when he's changing the subject because he doesn't want to answer. 

He knows he's right when H simply shuts up, eyes wide like those of a deer - quite fitting, considering where he enjoys spending most of his time. But instead of looking pensive, or starting to answer, H just … looks down. At where their hands are. 

Normally, he wouldn't think much of it. But H looks almost sheepish, and his eyes keep moving from his face to their hands, so Scott looks down. 

His brain screeches to a halt, and suddenly he stands up a little straighter, sitting on the floor next to H as he grabs his hand in his. 

Around his fingers wraps a perfect replica of a silver winged fae dragon, while in his palm- one of the most accurate representations of the different Planes. 

Scott turns his stare to his fiend, who looks more calm than Scott feels he has any right to, and when he speaks he sounds almost breathless. 

"What happened to you?"

The tale of how Shubble's patron reached out to him to grant him powers is exhilarating. Not in the "funny" sense, more in the "my friend who is usually not that fond of talking and interacting with people especially when he's not in a place he is familiar with, was transported to a different plane and spoke with a being of transcendent power". So maybe a bit in the "funny" sense. 

The only negative side of the whole affair is the fact that Shubble is currently not present. 

She actually teaches at the Academy, so H was right in his assumption that reaching this place would have helped him out, but he just barely missed her by a couple of weeks. She's recently left, called out on an urgent mission by her patron themselves, and a part of Scott's mind can't help but feel like it is an extremely weird coincidence: he respects power gained through pacts, but he fears deeply the machinations of otherworldly beings' minds and the power they hold over his friends. He'd much prefer dealing with forces controlled by his own self, so that when a spell backfires comically he only has himself to blame. 

But all things considered, he's glad to see H is still alive and seemingly doing better than ever. He looks fine, happy and more confident than the last time he saw him - the way he stands and moves more firm, more secure, filling his space in a way the Hbomb of some time ago wouldn't have. 

It's nice to see him like this. 

What isn't nice is the way his increased confidence leads him to suggest how good of an idea it would be for him to take part into the tournament. Which is a horrible idea. 

"Listen, I know I am banned from playing again-" H starts, arms spread open with a mischievous grin on his face. Scott has sudden flashbacks to all the times he'd seen that grin from the other side of the battlefield and shakes his head firmly before pointing a stern finger at his chest.

"You still have a year before you can." 

H huffs, shoulders falling, and he adopts the most fake-innocent expression Scott has ever seen. 

"But I'm just here to say hi!" Scott levels him with a blank stare, using all of his willpower and internal strength to avoid bursting out laughing. Because for all that his friend's expression is hilarious, this is really no laughing matter. He can't have him win again. 

"I said what I said." H's head hits the desk with a groan of protest. 

On the other side of the table, Scott pinches his own arm in order not to laugh. 

He fails.

H still manages to pout his way into getting a free room to stay in for a while - just like the old times, come on! - and seems to be alright with being left to his own devices for the rest of the morning. 

Knowing him, he'll take it as the perfect chance to snoop around, make new friends and bother the tournament's contestants. 

As Scott turns back to his schematics, the only thing he does is chuckle to himself. 

[quickspinner]

Killer Combo Ch 7 - The Final Showdown

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 Epilogue | Bonus Tidbits | ART inspired by this story! | AO3 | Fiction Master Post

I sincerely apologize to everyone who prefers short chapters, as this is another really long one. Pace yourselves as necessary, and thank you so much for persevering to the end with me. I'm so grateful for everyone who has read and liked or reblogged or replied, and I hope though the journey is uh, long, you will find it satisfying. You can search *** for the scene breaks if you need to stop and come back.

Kagami, predictably, was not happy when Marinette returned alone, but Juleka’s vindictive smirk when she heard what her brother was doing was enough to convince Kagami to delay any plans of vengeance she might have been making. “I hope he gives that bitch the earful she deserves,” Juleka muttered darkly, and then snorted. “But knowing Luka, he won’t. He’ll be all gentle and patient and she’ll keep arguing for way longer than he should let her before she realizes she might as well be talking to a brick wall.” 

“You don’t think,” Marinette began, and then stopped, reaching up to smooth her hair self-consciously, shifting her weight on her feet and feeling like a fool as several pairs of knowing eyes turned her way.

Juleka arched an eyebrow, but her smile was sympathetic. “I definitely don’t think,” she said warmly, reaching out to squeeze Marinette’s shoulder in a move that reminded her strongly of Luka. “Luka’s very perceptive and empathetic. It makes him too gentle sometimes, but he’s no pushover. She might think she has a chance, but he’s been over her for a long time. Even if he hadn’t... met anybody , she wouldn’t get anywhere with him.” She grabbed Marinette’s hand and pulled her towards the dance floor, reaching out her other hand to snag Rose on her way. “Now enough about my stupid brother, we only have like an hour of party left, let’s go have fun.” 

Marinette giggled, grabbing Kagami’s arm and pulling her along. 

Kagami had offered to let her stay overnight at the mansion, but Marinette had declined in favor of a ride home. She crept into her room as quietly as she could, sent her parents a text to let them know she was home just in case one of them woke up and worried, and went to wash her makeup off and get ready for bed. 

Her phone beeped just as she was drying off her face, and she picked it up to find a text from Luka. Just letting you know I made it home. Sorry for leaving so suddenly. 

Marinette sighed, and smiled slightly as she answered him. It’s okay, I understand. Did you get everything worked out in the end? She chewed her lip as she sent the message, but she needed to know, and there really wasn’t any good way to ask the question. She finished up with her moisturizer and climbed the stairs up to her bed, wincing at the ache in her feet.

She sat cross-legged on her bed to read his reply. As much as it can be. She’s not happy, but making her happy isn’t my job anymore. She got the message, finally, and that’s all that matters to me. 

Before she’d even finished reading that one, another message came in.

I know it’s really late and I’ll understand if you don’t want to, but I’d really like to hear your voice one more time. Is it okay if I call?

Marinette really wanted to hear his voice too. Before she could second-guess herself too much, she hit the call button.

He picked up immediately. “Hey,” he said softly, voice a little rough and tired-sounding but still enough to make her feel warm and remember the soft touch of his lips against hers. 

“Hi,” she said shyly, suddenly breathless.

“Marinette,” he sighed, and she had to smile at the way he said her name, like he was relieved and happy and exhausted all at once. “I just wanted to say I am so, so sorry about how everything went down tonight, and also...thank you. I think I got some closure tonight that I really needed, and it was really thanks to you and your friends, and...and I’m just incredibly grateful. And I totally owe you a rain check on the party date because I was having a great time until—” he sighed again. “All that other stuff. Your friends are pretty cool.”  

“Yeah,” Marinette smiled, picking at the hem of her pants. “They really are. We’ve had our ups and downs, but the ones that have stuck around, they’re really amazing.” She sighed slightly through her nose, brow furrowing in annoyance. “And I’m really sorry you haven’t had the same experience.”

“Well,” Luka said, and the smile in his voice made her smile too, “I got a taste of it tonight. It’s nice to know friendships like that really exist. I mean, I know they do, I’ve had some...still have some, even if they’re far away, but...okay, I’m rambling and I’m keeping you awake and you’re probably just as tired as I am, but I just, um...I wanted to…” He took a deep breath, and went on a little too quickly, “When I kissed you tonight, I wasn’t, I didn’t do anything right and I was kind of overwhelmed and not thinking clearly, but I want you to know I really—” 

“Wait,” Marinette said quickly, her heart suddenly pounding. “Wait. I think...Luka, if it’s okay with you, I think I’d rather talk about this in person. Maybe when we’re both a little clearer headed than we are right now?”

“Yeah,” Luka said slowly. “Yeah, okay, I guess that makes sense. So...when can I see you in person?” 

Marinette winced, turning and pulling down her schedule. “I have so much to do this week,” she nearly moaned, fisting a hand in her hair and tugging hard. 

“Hey,” he said, and something in his voice made Marinette cringe. “It’s okay.”

“No, I want to, I promise I’m not blowing you off, I really want to talk about this with you, it’s just—of course everything always has to happen at once and…ugh, timing. ” Marinette chewed her lip, scanning across the week, trying to find some time. Surely she could spare him ten minutes somewhere...but was the conversation they needed to have something that she really could rush? What was she even doing, why didn’t she just let him say what he wanted to say, why was she...she was…

Hesitating. Why was she hesitating? Marinette chewed her lip and blew out a frustrated breath, forgetting that Luka was still on the phone. She jumped when he spoke again.

“Marinette,” Luka said, his tone gentle, and she made a distracted noise of acknowledgement. “Listen. Don’t sweat it. I know you have your presentation this week and the tournament, right? If you’re busy and you need some space, that’s fine. Don’t worry about it. We can settle this afterwards. I’m not going anywhere. Well. Not until we talk, at least.” 

Marinette’s eyes landed on the weekend, colored in red and outlined in black. “The tournament,” she said softly. “The championship. We could...we could talk there? Maybe after?” 

Luka was silent for a moment, and Marinette heard him take a deep breath. “Is that the best time?” he said cautiously. “Do we really want to have that on our minds?” 

“You know what,” Marinette said, beginning to smile. “I think it’s the perfect time. It’s where we met, afterall.”

“Well,” Luka said, and she could tell he was smiling too. “There is a certain poetry to that.” 

“Okay,” Marinette said, her smile growing into a grin. “After I’m done kicking your ass in the finals, then.” 

“Oh, brave words from the lady with the forty percent win rate against me,” he laughed, and Marinette made a face.

“You’ve been spending too much time with Max,” she accused. 

“Max is a fun guy,” Luka chuckled. “Not as much fun as you, but you know, he has his moments.” 

Why was she so pleased at that, that he preferred her company over Max, ugh she was pathetic. She covered a giggle anyway, but it turned into a yawn.

“I’ll let you go to sleep,” Luka said, amusement clear in his voice. “Good luck this week, Marinette, and I’ll see you this weekend and...we’ll talk.” 

“Yes,” Marinette nodded decisively, though he couldn’t see her. “We will.” 

***

Two days later and elbow deep in unfinished clothes that were supposed to be runway ready in less than twenty-four hours, Marinette was actually feeling good about her decision to defer her talk with Luka.

Not everyone agreed, however.

“ Girl ,” Alya screeched from Marinette’s floor, where she was hammering rivets into a jacket. Max winced from where he was sitting at Marinette’s desk, pliers in his hand and a spool of jewelry wire next to him. “Why did you do that?” 

Marinette sighed, and bit her lip. “Because—” 

“Because what? ” Alya demanded.

“Because I need to be the one to say it,” Marinette sighed, as she rearranged the fabric on her sewing machine. “It’s just...it’s something I need to do, Alya. I don’t expect you to understand.” 

“Oh I understand,” Alya sighed. “I just think it’s silly. You could be making out right now if you’d just let him say his piece.” 

“First of all,” Marinette grumbled. “You don’t know that, you’re making assumptions. He could have been about to say he really values my friendship and he doesn’t want anything to change. Second, I have way too much to do this week. I wouldn’t have time for making out even if I did have a hot new boyfriend to do it with. Third, I just...I told you, I need to do it. I need to know that I can put myself out there and tell a boy I like him and not just...let it happen to me.”

“You must have done that lots of times, Marinette, what about all those guys you made out with that last year of high school?” 

Marinette rolled her eyes, glancing at Max with a blush, though he was studiously ignoring the conversation, focused on the task in front of him. “It’s not even close to being the same thing.” She felt a little ashamed, actually, of the way she’d used some of those guys, even though they were usually more than happy to be used and she’d never been dishonest with any of them. “This isn’t about just kissing and proving to myself that someone can like me and be attracted to me. It’s not just as simple as asking a cute guy to a party, I just…” She sighed. “It’s the first time I’ve really felt like this since then, with all the butterflies and the fear and the...the…” 

“Passion?” suggested Alya smugly, and Marinette rolled her eyes again.

“Whatever. The point is, I just need to be the one to say it, and I want to do it face to face.” 

“Well, maybe you’re right and I don’t really get it,” Alya sighed. “It sounds like he’s pretty into you, so it seems like you’re splitting unnecessary hairs. But I guess you do what you have to do, girl.”

“I will,” Marinette said firmly, “And what I need to do now is get these garments finished for my presentation so I can put that to bed and focus on beating my gorgeous potential boyfriend this weekend before I confess my—”

“Yeeees?” Alya teased.

“Feelings,” Marinette finished with a flush. “Look, can we be done talking about this now?” 

“Fine,” Alya rolled her eyes and put the hammer down, stretching her fingers. “I’m going to go grab some water, do you guys want some?”

“Yes, please,” Marinette and Max chorused together, and Alya stood up. Before heading to the trap door, she crossed the room to look over Max’s shoulder at the wire he was twisting to match the sketch Marinette had given him. 

“Wow, Max, you’re surprisingly good at that,” Alya commented, and Max gave her a look over his glasses.

“I know my way around wires and a pair of pliers, thank you very much,” Max sniffed. “It’s not that different from wiring a circuit board.” 

“Well, the next time you need help with something like that, count me in,” Marinette said, frowning as she tried to untangle the mess her bobbin had mysteriously become. “I owe you guys sooooo much for this.”

“I will give your offer due consideration when the time inevitably comes,” Max replied. “Incidentally, do you happen to have another ticket to the show? I seem to have misplaced mine.”

“Max, really?” Alya sighed, heading towards the trap door. “You’re going to ask her that now? Have you checked under your piles of nerd crap?”

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” Marinette said, reaching over to grab a decorated box on her desk and rummage through it. “Here you go, Max. Kagami can’t make it so I had one more than I needed anyway.” 

“Thank you, Marinette,” Max said, with a grin that would have made her look twice if she hadn’t been so preoccupied. 

As it was she barely noticed it, and forgot it entirely until much later, when her presentation was over and the high of achievement and the exhilaration of her first really professional fashion show were finally wearing off and she was about to fall into bed for the night. As she fumbled to plug her phone into the charger, she noticed a text on the screen and paused. 

It was from Luka.

You were fantastic up there. Sorry I couldn’t stay long enough to see you after. Congratulations, all the hard work paid off. 

Marinette gaped at the phone for a moment. You were there? she texted back, and then berated herself for not checking the time first. He was probably asleep, he must have sent that text hours ago.

Even as she thought it, her phone pinged with a response.

Yeah, I hope that was okay. Tell Max thanks for the ticket. ;) 

Marinette gaped again, and then pouted for a moment before hitting the call button. 

Luka picked up right away. “Surprise,” he said, laughter in his warm voice.

“Max is a sneak,” Marinette pouted, though she was trying not to smile. “And I’m going to kill him.” 

“Max is a sneak,” Luka agreed. “But don’t be mad. I ran into him the other day and asked how you were, and we got to talking, and I let it slip that I really wished I could be there, and he gave me his ticket on the spot. Made me promise not to tell you until after, though. I would’ve stayed to say congrats but I had a gig I had to get to, and...well I didn’t want to make things weird.” 

“I’m glad you were there,” Marinette smiled, and then added shyly, “You really think I did well?” 

“You did amazing,” he said sincerely, and Marinette felt a thrill that made her wiggle a little in place. “I know a thing or two about stage presence, and you’ve definitely got it. I’m really glad I got to see you present. And...well I can’t claim to know much about fashion, but I really liked what you did.” 

A hot flush raced up her face and she slapped a hand over it even though he couldn’t see her. 

“Marinette? You okay?”

Marinette made an affirmative noise. “Sorry. I just...that makes me really happy. That you think so. That you liked it. I—” She made a high pitched whine. “I’m not making any sense.” 

“It’s late and you’re tired,” Luka chuckled. “It’s fine. I don’t want to keep you up any longer, I just wanted to let you know I was there. Juleka said it was creepy to show up without telling you.” 

Marinette giggled. “Well, she maybe has a point. I would have gotten tickets for you and Juleka both if you had asked.”

“Sorry,” Luka sighed, and she heard a thump that she thought might be his head hitting a table. “I promise, I didn’t mean anything by it, I just...I knew it was important to you and…I know you needed space and I didn’t want to confuse anything and—” He cut off with a strangled noise and sighed. “Okay, I’m going to tell you good night now and hang up before I dig myself any deeper.” 

Marinette had to bite her lip to stop her giggling, “You don’t have to be sorry. I’m really glad you were there, Luka. Really. That...it was important to me, and it’s an important part of me, and I didn’t think about it before but...I’m really glad I got to show you that. Seeing you play on stage, I felt like I really got to see an important side of you that I didn’t know anything about, so...I hope maybe tonight was like that for you.” She bit her tongue, feeling like she wasn’t explaining herself well. 

“It was,” Luka said, his voice softening a little in a way that made her shiver. “It really was, and…” He paused, and cleared his throat. “Well. I know you’ve been working hard and I don’t want to keep you up any later. I just wanted to tell you I thought you did great tonight and I’m super impressed, as always. Get some sleep, okay?” 

“Sleep,” Marinette repeated, hand still over her face. “Sleep would be good. Maybe for like a week.” 

“You’ve really been running hard, huh,” Luka said sympathetically. “Once all this is over, we’ll take some time and just hang out and relax. I’ll play for you.” 

“Really?” Marinette perked up.

“Yeah,” Luka chuckled. “Just like that day on the boat.”

“That was nice,” Marinette smiled, finally letting her hand slide down off her face. 

“Mm. It really was.”

There was a long pause. 

“I should—” she began, just as he said, “You should—” and they both laughed. 

“Good night, Marinette,” Luka said at last. “Rest well.” 

“Good night, Luka,” Marinette murmured. “See you soon.” 

“Soon,” he repeated, and hung up. 

A few minutes later her phone beeped with one final text.

Can’t wait to see you this weekend.

Marinette sent back a single pink heart and fell back giggling onto her bed, kicking her feet for a second in a brief burst of energy before she crawled under the covers and fell asleep with a grin on her face. 

When Max showed up for practice the next day, she punched him in the arm, and then threw her arms around his neck. “You’re a great friend,” she mumbled into his shoulder. “And I hate you.”

Max just chuckled and patted her back.

***

The morning of the UMSIII Master League Championship, Marinette was a fluttering, nervous wreck. That wasn’t totally unexpected, and her parents put up cheerfully with her clumsiness, absentmindedness, and confusion, giving her gentle encouragement and moving the breakables quietly out of her path. Finally they kissed her goodbye, handed her the bag she’d been about to forget, and promised that they would be in the stands with the rest of her friends. 

She leaned her head on the cool metal rail of the subway and tried to breathe. There was a lot on the line today. Marinette was fairly confident she could place, but...she wanted to win. There was a steep drop in the prize value between first and second place and an even sharper drop between second and third. She wanted to do well, yes, but really she wanted to win. 

Luka wanted to win too, and that made her stomach twist. She hadn’t seen him in person since the night of the party. Other than their brief conversations, Marinette had been trying not to think too hard about him, to focus on the competition in her practice sessions with Max, but she wasn’t entirely successful. A lot of things had fallen into place for her since she’d seen him on stage. Now she understood how he played to the crowd in his interviews, the way he could project his voice in a crowd, the calm, easy going demeanor he kept up even in the heat of competition. He was used to pressure, he was used to crowds, he was a trained vocalist, and he enjoyed having an audience. Marinette felt like she had a much better picture of him in her mind now, a better understanding of who he was, and everything she knew just made her want to know more. 

She was determined to tell him so. 

But first she had to get through the tournament. And some small, ugly little part of her was afraid. Would he still want to talk to her if she beat him? 

Of course he would. It was ridiculous to think otherwise. It was just a game, after all.

A game with both their dreams on the line.

She almost missed her metro stop. 

Marinette swallowed hard as she walked up to the huge stadium and showed her player pass to the guard. She was on her own for the moment; the individual finals would be held in the afternoon and the team competition in the evening, so Max couldn’t come with her. Marinette was the only player in the finals for both the individual and the team championship. Well, and Luka. Technically he was still part of the team, even if he wouldn’t play.

She was escorted to a small lounge area where other players had already begun to congregate. She scanned the room but didn’t see Luka. Marinette wandered back and forth aimlessly, growing more and more restless the longer they were stuck waiting, her thoughts growing scattered and fragmented and her hands starting to shake slightly. She wished she’d brought her sketchbook, or some knitting. Something, anything, to vent her energy on and focus her mind.

A touch on her shoulder made her jump and she whirled around to find Luka behind her, looking surprised and then apologetic, shoulders hunching slightly. “Sorry. I called your name, but…” He shrugged and held out a bottle of water, a slow smile spreading over his face. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Marinette smiled shyly back. “Sorry, I guess I was zoned out.” She took the bottle and twisted off the cap. “Too much energy and nowhere to spend it.” She took a sip, peeking at him around the bottle. He wasn’t wearing his Viperion hoodie, but his old one, with her red stitching at the seams. She focused on the logo on his chest as she lowered the bottle. “New shirt?”

“Yeah,” Luka rolled his eyes. “The league sent it to me. Apparently they don’t want their vintage branding on the livestream tonight, so they asked me to wear the new logo.” 

Marinette huffed a quiet laugh. “Naturally.” She wrinkled her nose slightly. “The old one was better.”

“Right?” Luka groaned. “I almost wore it anyway, but…” He shrugged. “Wasn’t worth the fight, to be honest.” 

Marinette started to ask why he hadn’t worn his Viperion hoodie, but changed her mind, not sure that she wanted to know the answer. Instead she blurted, “You look good,” and promptly wanted to kick herself. He did look good; the new shirt fit him better than the old one, his hair was styled more deliberately than usual and the color in it looked recently touched up, bright and vibrant. He was freshly shaved and, she was pretty sure, wearing a touch of makeup, probably to keep from looking washed out under the lights. Of course he would consider those things. Was that peach lipstick? It was a good color on him.

Oh God she was staring. 

“You do too,” Luka smiled, reaching up to brush her pigtail back behind her shoulder. suddenly he winced and jerked his hand back quickly. “Sorry, I shouldn’t—sorry if I’m—”

“It’s okay,” Marinette said, catching the hand he was pulling back. “Really, Luka, I don’t mind. I know it’s how you connect. I know you won’t do anything inappropriate, and I don’t mind the rest, so just don’t worry about it.” 

Luka relaxed, and she squeezed his hand before letting go of it. “Thanks,” he said, reaching up to run a hand through his hair and stopping just in time. He tilted his head slightly, looking at Marinette, who found herself beginning to fidget again. “Are you okay?”

Marinette smiled, but her face felt like wood. “I’m fine. It’s fine.”

Luka raised his eyebrows slightly, and Marinette noticed absently that he was wearing eyeliner. “You don’t look fine,” he observed, and nudged the hand holding the water bottle. “Drink. It’s going to be crazy once things get going. Better to start hydrating now.” 

Marinette drank, more because she didn’t feel like arguing than from actually believing she needed it. “How can you be so calm?” she asked with a gusty sigh after she lowered the bottle.

Luka shrugged and flashed a grin. “Don’t forget I’ve done this before. Helps that I was practically raised on stage, so the lights, the effects, none of that really bothers me.” He put a hand on her shoulder and massaged gently. “I’m honestly a little surprised to see you so tense. I didn’t think anything would rattle you after seeing you up on stage before. You owned it and you didn’t look nervous at all.” 

“That was fashion,” Marinette hissed, glancing at the other competitors. “And I was busy. I didn’t have time to freak out. Not like this, with all the...the waiting. ” She tugged at her pigtails and resisted the urge to whine. “I just want to get started already! Just—all this—” she flapped her hands, trying to indicate the pent-up energy inside her. “There’s nowhere for it to go.” 

“Ah.” Luka glanced away, and then looked at her again. “I don’t know if it would help, but...want to meditate with me? I always try to meditate for at least a few minutes before I have to go on stage. Or into a competition.” 

Marinette blinked at him, for a moment and he shrugged. “But if you don’t want to, it’s fine, I know it’s a little weird, to think about sitting still when you’re so worked up—” 

“No, I—that sounds good.” Marinette glanced around. “But where—”  

Luka tipped his head to indicate a direction and Marinette followed him to a corner of the lounge where there was an old, battered, but currently empty sofa. He sat down and Marinette sat next to him. She glanced around a little self-consciously but most of the competitors were focused on their own pre-game rituals. The nervous chatterers were congregated together, fidgeting back and forth as they all talked over each other. Several others had headphones and closed eyes, a couple were pacing, and the only other female competitor in the room was staring at the ground, mumbling with her eyes closed and her weight shifting from foot to foot. No one was paying the two of them any mind at all. 

“Everybody’s too worried about their own game to care what we do,” Luka murmured, slipping a guitar pick out of his pocket and rotating it in his fingers. “Don’t worry about them, just focus on you.” He held the pick between his thumb and forefinger and breathed in slowly, and then out, closing his eyes. 

Marinette watched him for a moment, then placed one hand over the other in her lap, palms up, and did the same. It took some effort to keep from fidgeting, to force the circumstances from her mind and bring her scattered focus to her breathing and the flow of her energy, but Luka’s calm presence and the slow, regular swell of his ribs moving his arm against hers, helped her settle her mind.

As she breathed, the nervous flutters ebbed. She felt more solidly in her skin than she had all day. The tension was still there, but it was more focused now, less chaotic. She felt worlds better...but a little guilty.

“You shouldn’t be helping me so much,” Marinette murmured, her eyes still closed.

Luka’s shoulder vibrated against hers as he chuckled. “Have you looked at the brackets? Clearly the marketing geniuses have been at work because we don’t face each other until the finals. I want you to be there, not flame out from nerves in your first matchup.” After a moment he added quietly, “And you’re my friend. I can’t see you unhappy and not help. You’ve done a lot for me too, you know.” 

Marinette unfolded her hands and fumbled blindly beside her. She found his forearm and slid her hand down to slip her fingers through his and squeezed. 

“I’m really glad I met you, Luka,” she whispered. “Whatever happens today, I hope we can...” She hesitated, not wanting to say stay friends, because that wasn’t what she wanted. She opened one eye and peeked at him, and saw his eyes open as well as he smiled at her. His thumb caressed the back of her hand lightly.

“I hear you,” he said softly, and the drop in his voice made her insides quiver pleasantly. She was suddenly extremely aware of the rough skin of his hand enveloping hers, the warmth of where their shoulders pressed together. “I’m glad we met too. I want you to be in my life, no matter what happens today.” 

Marinette had to press her lips together to contain her smile. “Yeah...me too.” 

Luka glanced at the other players and gently extracted his hand. He took Marinette’s wrist and put her hand back on her own knee before curling his fingers back together and closing his eyes. Marinette understood, folding her hands back together and deepening her breathing again. It wouldn’t do for them to be cuddling too obviously in front of everyone else. There would already be talk, she was sure, if Ladybug and Viperion began dating after the tournament was over, no matter who won. 

But before she could think of that, she had to win.

And before she could even think about beating Luka, she had other competitors to worry about. He was right. She needed to focus and not let the situation get the better of her.

She stayed there, meditating alongside Luka, until the handlers came to get the players and walk them through their entrances and the procedures between matches. The sight of the jumbotron overhead and the giant stadium full of currently empty but soon-to-be-packed seats made Marinette’s nerves flare up again. Luka’s hand squeezed her shoulder, bringing her focus back to the moment.

“Hey,” he murmured when she looked up at him. “It’s just another match. The livestream’s just a little more up close and personal than we’re used to.” He grinned at her. “They’re all coming to see Ladybug and Viperion face off.” 

Marinette grinned back, and then brought her attention back to the handler explaining the procedure and reiterating the rules.The quarter finals and semifinals would be best two out of three, and the finals best three out of five. Matches would be held simultaneously using the pyrapods set up at ground level, and at the back, an elevated stage contained two pyrapods that would be used for the finals. 

None of this was news and Marinette was back to shifting from foot-to-foot impatiently, checking the time. Luka seemed as calm and relaxed as ever, but she could see the tightness beginning around his eyes and knew he was ready to get started too. 

Finally they were dumped back in the lounge, and Marinette went to the restroom. She’d done the rest of her routine at home, but she wanted her makeup mask fresh and bright. The ritual of putting it on, dusting the red mask across her eyes and drawing in her spots, calmed some of her resurging nerves, and when she straightened up from the mirror, Ladybug looked back at her. 

Ladybug was not going to lose because of stage fright.

Marinette reached back into her makeup bag and hesitated as her hand found her tube of black lipstick. She bit her lip and looked at her reflection again. The championship seemed like a bad time to be making changes, but…

Marinette swapped the black lipstick for red and painted her lips with quick, decisive movements, and then snapped the cap back on with a quiet click. She made sure her pigtails were still tight and secure, tapped her lucky earrings three times, and then zipped up her bag and went back to the lounge, already feeling more confident and ready to compete.

Luka caught her eye immediately when she stepped back inside, and she saw him grin at the change, but then the competitors were being herded out of the lounge and into the tunnel they would take into the arena.

In the chaos, she felt Luka’s hand wrap around hers and squeeze, and quickly let go. The competitors milled around in the tunnel aimlessly, well back from the fog machine spewing smoke near the entrance, until two production assistants dressed in black brusquely took charge and lined them up in a supposedly randomly generated but very important order, warning them to not, under any circumstances, shuffle the order or cross the line before their names were called or move from their place in line. Marinette found herself in the middle of the line, with Luka right beside her. “Random, huh,” Luka chuckled. “Yeah, right.” 

“They’re really hyping us up,” Marinette agreed. 

“Guess we better not let them down.” Luka and Marinette exchanged a look, and then a fistbump. “See you in the finals, Ladybug,” he grinned. 

“I’ll be there,” she grinned back. “You better not stand me up, Viperion.”

“Never.” 

“Oh my God, get a room,” muttered the guy on Marinette’s other side. “You two are disgusting.” 

Marinette flushed, but Luka just chuckled again. “Aww, Pharaoh, you know I love beating you too, it’s just not in the cards today, man.”

Pharaoh scowled over Marinette’s head at him. “Kiss my ass, snake boy.” 

“Oh, when Ladybug here’s done kicking it you’re gonna need somebody to,” Luka said, winking at Marinette. “‘Fraid I’ll be busy, though. Tagger can do it for me, he’ll be free.”

“I hate you so much,” Tagger, Luka’s first round opponent, grumbled from down the line. “Fucking cocky bastard.” 

Marinette giggled, and Luka nudged her shoulder playfully with his. She looked up into his face and she could see the thrill of competition beginning to get to him, in his pirate grin and the sparkle in his eyes, and the challenge there sparked Marinette’s own competitive spirit.

“He’s not wrong,” she said, arching an eyebrow. “I thought the very same thing to myself during our first match.” Luka feigned being struck in the heart. 

“Betrayal!” he laughed. “I’m not cocky, I’m right. It’s not boasting if you can back it up.” 

“You can back it up all the way to second place.” Marinette poked him in the chest and he grabbed her hand, leaning down over her with a grin.

“Don’t make me break out Max’s win percentages again.” 

“The numbers can’t help you now,” Marinette shot back, pulling her hand free. She stepped up close to him and looked up into his face, shoulders back and hands on her hips. “We’re starting with a clean slate today and all that matters is here and now. I hope you enjoyed winning all those matches, Viperion, because it’s only going to make it sweeter when I finally take you down.” 

Luka bit his lip, and Marinette quirked her eyebrow a little higher, and then Pharaoh coughed, making them both jump. “We’re still here, you know,” he said sardonically as Marinette and Luka turned away from each other, Luka clearly fighting a grin, pink coloring the high points of his cheeks, and Marinette turning a brilliant red that she could only hope would fade before she was announced.

Mercifully the announcer began calling names, distracting everyone as a murmur of excitement went down the line.

Suddenly there was no one in front of Marinette and her heart began to pound.

“Ladybug!” the announcer roared, and the crowd erupted into a deafening roar that startled her. Marinette wasn’t given time to hesitate, though; the production assistant planted a hand in the middle of her back and shoved her forward into the fog. For a moment she was blind and confused, but then she stumbled out of the fog and into the bright lights of the stadium. Marinette quickly pasted on a wide smile and raised her arms to wave with both hands to the crowd, though her knees felt like jelly at the sight of so many people and her own promo picture on the jumbotron, smirking at the camera in full makeup and a challenging posture.

Somehow she made it across the field to her mark next to Pharaoh, and then the announcer was calling Viperion, and she turned her head, clapping automatically as Luka emerged from the fog and waved, looking completely at ease with his usual relaxed smile as he sauntered over to stand next to her. Part of the stadium started up a chant for him and he waved again, ducking his head slightly. Suddenly a competing chant of Ladybug! Ladybug! came up and Luka nudged her with a grin. She raised a slightly shaky hand to wave back, and then Luka made a settle down gesture with his hands. Marinette copied him and the chants died down so the announcer could call the next player. 

Marinette curled her fingers together, willing herself not to take Luka’s hand or grab onto his sleeve. Beside her, Luka folded his arms, and she wondered if he was fighting the same urge to touch her. He glanced at her and then quickly away, and her cheeks warmed, and she quickly aimed her suddenly much more sincere smile at the crowd, waving again. 

“You’ve got this, Ladybug,” Viperion leaned down to whisper when the announcer dismissed them to their pods. “I’ll be cheering for you.” 

“Worry about yourself,” Ladybug grinned and winked. “Like you said, I’ve got this.” 

Viperion grinned and shook his head as they separated.

Marinette was still nervous but smiling as she stepped into her pod and picked up her headset. “Viperion’s going to be so disappointed when I beat you,” Pharaoh said as soon as the channel was active. “Poor little Ladybug’s about to get squashed.” 

Marinette snorted. “I hope your game is more interesting than your trash talk,” she snickered. “If that’s as creative as you can get this is going to be really boring.” Pharaoh spluttered and Marinette grinned as the countdown began to blink. The controller in her hands felt like a part of her by now, and she bounced on her toes a little, eager for things to finally begin.

It wasn’t easy; crappy trash talk aside, Pharaoh was a highly ranked player and skilled enough to be a challenge. It was a perfect first match for her, actually, because she had to think to beat him and once her mind was focused and fully immersed in the game, she overcame the few mistakes she’d made early on. She was grinning broadly as she stepped out of the pod and raised her arms to acknowledge the cheers that followed when the announcer boomed out her name as the winner. Even as she did, though, she was looking for the leaderboard on the giant screen above them. At first she saw only her own flushed and happy face, but then the leaderboard reappeared, Viperion’s name blinking and then advancing to the next level. 

“Yes!” Marinette squealed, jumping up and down in place. She whipped her head towards Luka’s pod and watched him emerge. He looked up immediately just as she had, and punched the air and looked back at her with a broad grin. They both stood and watched as one by one the other players turned red or blinked green and advanced. 

Like Kagami’s party, like her presentation and fashion show, everything seemed to go by in a whirl and a blur. Months of preparation and planning and practice and the slow-motion waiting of the morning gave way to a heart-pounding, adrenaline-pumping whirl as she faced down match after match, dominating some and barely squeaking by others. Before she knew it, she was staring up at the jumbotron while the crowd screamed and the announcer cried, “And this is what we’ve all been waiting for, this is what we all came here to see! The final matchup in the Master League Championship will be! Ladybug! Versus! Viperioooooooon!”

Marinette raised her arms and waved with both hands again as the crowd cheered then she was being ushered off the field, back into the tunnel and then to the backstage area to wait while the runners up duked it out for third and fourth place and the crew made sure everything was set up for the final.

Marinette stared up at the steps to the stage and felt herself start to shake. She didn’t even notice Luka speaking at her side until he took her arm and turned her to face him. 

“Marinette, are you okay?” he asked, the grin quickly dropping from his face as he looked at her.

“Yeah,” she said, trying to smile. “I’m f-fine.” 

“You’re pale as a ghost.” Luka’s expression was grave and worried and he pulled her over to a chair and pushed her into it. “Sit. Breathe, Marinette. Are you dizzy?” 

“I’m fine,” Marinette said, trying to take his advice and slow her breathing. “I’m okay. I just...I need a second.” 

She felt Luka move away, but he was back in moments, kneeling in front of her to press a bottle of water into her hand. “Drink,” he ordered, helping her sit up. “Look at me.” He put his fingers under her chin and gently tipped it up so he could look into her eyes. “You’re sure you’re okay? Do you need the medic?” 

“No,” Marinette said, taking a deep breath before lifting the water to her trembling lips. “I’m all right, Luka.” She drank and then sighed. “That was just really intense.” She shot a sardonic smile up at him. “It felt really good though.”

Luka grinned as he took her hand between both of his and rubbed it gently. “It’s a rush, no doubt.” 

Marinette took another drink and mumbled weakly, “Gonna be even better when I beat you.” 

Luka laughed softly and leaned forward, resting his forehead on hers. Something about that touch was very comforting and she leaned into it. “I’m gonna give you a fight, I hope you know that,” Luka told her. “I’m not going to just hand it to you because you’re—” He paused, and Marinette back to look at him. He brought a hand up to cup her cheek, and Marinette wasn’t sure what might have happened if the production assistants hadn’t come looking for them just then. Luka stood up quickly, turning away from her for a moment, and Marinette put a hand over her chest, feeling the frantic flutter of her heart against her palm. 

“Head in the game, Ladybug,” Marinette murmured to herself before she shoved up out of her chair, shaking out her limbs and noting that at least her hands weren’t trembling anymore. 

It was time. The handlers lined them up shoulder to shoulder, in front of a fog-covered arch similar to the one on the field. 

Luka caught her hand and Marinette let him lace their fingers together. His hold was tighter than she expected and she glanced up at him. That competition spark was in his eyes and she could see the tension across his shoulders. He really was pumped up for this. 

He let go of her hand before they walked out together through the fog, waving at the cheering. The lights were hotter and brighter on the stage and Marinette’s nerves increased. She turned to shake hands with Luka and met his eyes, feeling like she was standing outside of her body, but simultaneously hyper aware of his touch and the blue of his eyes and the quirk of his smile before his hand slid away and they each turned to get into their pyrapods. 

Marinette came back to herself a bit when the pod slid closed behind her, shutting out the lights and the noise. She became aware of how fast she was breathing and made an effort to slow it down before she picked up her headset and put it on. 

“Hanging in there, Bug?” Luka asked, and though his voice was teasing she knew he was checking on her.

“You wanted it,” she replied, “I’m gonna bring it.”

“Show me what you got, Ladybug,” he chuckled, and Marinette grinned, pleased that he remembered after all this time. “I can take it.”

The countdown flashed on the screen, and Marinette took one last deep breath. “It’s been a long time since that first match,” Marinette pointed out with a smile. “I’m not the same newbie you played back then.”

“I know,” he said, and she could see his pirate grin in her mind (and she was kind of glad she couldn’t see it projected on the big screen outside; at that magnitude it might actually kill her). “I can’t wait.”

Once they started playing, there was no time to think about anything but the game. 

Luka won the first match, and Marinette couldn’t help her sigh, annoyed with herself. She’d been nervous and jumpy in the beginning and it had cost her. She and Luka were so evenly matched at this point that both knew they couldn’t give an inch or make a single mistake. She was going to have to do better. 

“It’s just the first match,” she heard Luka say over her headset, and she wasn’t sure if it was meant to comfort her or steady him. 

“I never thought it would be easy,” Marinette replied, and then smiled. “So let’s give the people the show they came for.” 

“You know it,” he laughed.

The next match was closer but Luka won that one too, and Marinette bit her lip hard, fighting the churning feeling in her stomach. If she lost the next one, that was it; she couldn’t afford to lose any more. 

Luka groaned as the third match ended. “Man, how do you do that. I was sure I had you there.” 

“I’m full of surprises,” Marinette replied, putting down the controller and shaking out her hands. They trembled slightly from the close call; he really had almost had her, and that would have been the end.

“You really are,” Luka chuckled. “Playing you is never boring, that’s for sure. Okay, just one more match to go.” 

“Oh, don’t count your trophies before they’re in the case,” Marinette muttered, narrowing her eyes though a smile tugged at her mouth. “No way I’m letting you take it that easily.”

“We’ll see,” Luka said, and then the countdown started again. 

The fourth match turned out to be an easy win for Marinette; Luka misjudged his timing early on and Marinette gave him no time to recover.

Marinette had to take a few more deep breaths as they prepared for the fifth and final match. Her stomach felt like jelly but her hands were steady. One more. She just had to beat him one more time. Either way, all of this would be over soon. She wasn’t sure how to feel about that so she pushed it aside, needing all her focus for the game. 

It was close, it was so close. Both of them had just a sliver of health left and Marinette was starting to panic. She’d managed to deflect his first venom strike, but the fight had gone on long enough that the ability had recharged and she hadn’t been able to dodge a second time. He didn’t even have to land another attack; if he held her off long enough, he would win with the recurring damage from the venom strike. She needed to take him out, but he kept interrupting her attacks, taking low level damage from her defensive moves to prevent her from getting a combo attack together. He was gambling that he could hold out until the venom strike wiped out the last of her health bar, and it was a bet he was going to win if Marinette couldn’t get off a decent attack. 

She bit her lip and tried to think. His armor has always been his weak point; she just needed to get one killer combo off and he’d be finished. Luka knew it, too. If he failed to interrupt her even once she’d take him out. Every time he attacked her directly, though, he took damage from her shields and counterattack. He could keep gambling on his health to hold out until the venom strike, or if he timed it just right, he could get his stun attack off and freeze her. If he could get the move off, she’d be held just long enough for the venom strike to finish her. 

But he couldn’t interrupt her attacks while he was charging the ability. If he tried it, and she was fast enough...she’d have to be so fast. It would have to be bug bombs, they were the fastest, and they should be enough. She’d have to be ready and watching, and...

Will he still want to be with me if I beat him? Or will I just be another girl that ruined his dreams?

The thought was both terrifying and unwelcome but even as it hit her, she saw Viperion draw back and begin to charge a glowing ball between his hands. Marinette had no time to deliberate, no time for hesitation. Her fingers moved and her mech exploded into action. She executed the attack and dropped the controller, grabbing her hair with her hands as she watched.

The stun left Viperion’s hands—and her bug bombs landed. Even as her mech froze in place, Viperion went down in a series of dramatic explosions. 

The screen flashed GAME OVER. It flashed up a picture of her mech with the word WINNER over and over.

“Holy sh—,” she heard Luka whisper, but the channel cut off.

She won.

She won.

Numbly she reached up and took off her headset as the pod door slid open behind her. 

She stepped out shakily, looking up uncomprehendingly at the crowd.

Across from her, Luka’s pod door was sliding open. The second there was room, Luka exploded out, leaping out with one of his deafening whoops as he caught her up in a bearhug that nearly took the breath from her. He swung her around. 

“That was amazing,” he shouted, nearly in her ear to be heard over the crowd. “I thought there was no way you could get an attack off fast enough, but you knew—you knew I was going to do it, didn’t you, you were ready, you’re so incredible—” 

“Luka,” Marinette gasped, and laughing, Luka set her down on her feet.

Before Marinette could do more than gasp in a breath, he had ducked down and—well she wasn’t sure exactly what he did, but suddenly she shrieked as he ducked his head under her leg and somehow managed to lift her onto his shoulders despite her flailing. He caught her hands and steadied her, and then let go of one hand to pump his fist in the air and cheer for her. Marinette kept a death grip on his other hand but she managed to smile and reach up to wave at the crowd, letting out a breathless laugh once the shock wore off. The crowd was cheering and her face was on the jumbotron, smiling but still looking more stunned than victorious. Luka turned in a slow circle so she could wave at the whole crowd until her arm was sore. 

It took her a minute to realize the announcer was trying to get her attention. “Ladybug, you are the Ultimate Mecha Strike III regional champion! Congratulations! How do you feel right now?” A slightly hysterical giggle escaped her at the way he had to hold the microphone up above his head to catch her answer. 

“I feel amazing, but my day isn't over yet,” she laughed. 

“That’s right, we’ll see you as part of Team Lucky Charm in the team competition later tonight! We’ll be looking forward to that. Viperion, you and Ladybug have had quite the rivalry going on and you were heavily the favorite to win coming into this event. How do you feel about taking second place tonight?” 

“I can’t be sore about a loss like that,” Luka laughed. “Of course I wanted to win, but—” He shook her head. “You can’t deny that was brilliant.” He patted Marinette’s leg on his shoulder. “Congratulations, Ladybug. The best player definitely won today.” 

“All right, look for more exclusive interview content with Ladybug and Viperion on the blog later tonight,” the announcer said into the microphone, looking up into the crowd. “We’re going to take a short recess to get things ready here and then we’ll be back to bring you the Master League team championship. “Congratulations again, Ladybug and Viperion.”  

He gestured them back towards the arch, and Luka carried Marinette back through it, both of them waving at the crowd as they went.

Marinette’s legs felt like jelly as she scrambled down from Luka’s shoulders, and he held her elbows as she swayed slightly, and when she was steady he hugged her tight. “Congratulations.”

“You’re not mad?” she asked softly, looking up at him through her lashes.

Luka curled a finger under her chin and tipped her face up so that she was looking at him more directly. “I’m not mad,” he promised, and the soft smile he gave her and the gentle look in his eyes made her believe him. “I’ll be disappointed, probably, tomorrow. I’ll have to scale back my plans. But that’s okay. I took a chance and it didn’t work out in my favor. You played your best. No regrets here. I’m so happy for you, too, and impressed, and…” he paused, and took a deep breath. “I’m definitely not mad.” His hand moved up to cup her cheek, and his thumb brushed over her face for a moment. 

“Viperion, Ladybug! Press room, let’s go.” 

“Oh,” Marinette gasped, but Luka just chuckled and put a hand on her arm. She went with him a little numbly until they were separated for the post-game interviews. Marinette wasn’t sure anything she said was coherent, but she had enough presence of mind to work in a mention of the bakery and her fashion business, so hopefully it wasn’t a total loss. 

“I’m sure you did great,” Luka told her as they walked out. 

“I hope so,” Marinette sighed, putting a hand against her forehead and flapping her hoodie to get some air under it. “But it’s over now, so no point in worrying about it.” 

“Yeah,” Luka smiled, and then nudged her shoulder with his arm. “I guess you better go. You’re not done yet, remember?” 

“Yeah,” Marinette nodded, turning to face her. “But...you’re going to stay, right?” 

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Luka grinned. “I’ll be cheering you on, no fear. And...I’ll be here after. Assuming you still want to talk?” 

“I do,” Marinette said quickly, blushing. 

“Okay then. You go get ready and find Max, and I’ll see you soon, okay?”

“Okay,” Marinette whispered, and rose on her toes to quickly kiss his cheek before following a production assistant with a clipboard back to the player lounge.

Max nearly knocked her over in his enthusiasm as soon as she walked in, and she clung to the back of his hoodie, laughing incredulously. “I still can’t believe it,” she whispered. 

“I believe the evidence is irrefutable,” Max pointed out, and Marinette rolled her eyes, pushing him away. 

“You changed your lipstick,” Max observed as she looked up at him, and Marinette’s fingers flew to her mouth. 

“Oh, I forgot. I can—I can go change it back, if you’re afraid it’ll jinx us—” She knew how Max would react as soon as she said the words and pouted while he snorted with laughter.

“I appreciate the thought, but I don’t think the color of your lipstick will be the deciding factor,” Max snickered, and Marinette shoved him, making him stagger.

“Jerk,” she muttered. 

“I bet Luka liked it,” Max observed smugly, and Marinette’s face flamed red. 

“We’re not going to win this tournament if I break your arm before it starts,” she threatened, punching Max (lightly, as she knew her skinny friend bruised easily) in the arm. 

“I’m sure Luka would comfort y—ow!”

The waiting dragged on again but at least this time she had Max to talk to and strategize with. Once they walked out of the stupid fog tunnel, the whirl began again. It wasn’t any easier, Marinette found, but this time it was Max, confident in his calculations and their abilities, who was her steadying influence. She had more leeway, too, with Max there, they could cover for each other's mistakes. It felt like only moments before they were ushered into the backstage area, waiting to face their final opponents. Marinette felt a bit shaky and weak in the knees again from the rush, but this time she sat herself down and breathed through it while Max paced, muttering strategy and calculations to himself.

Someone cleared their throat beside her and Marinette looked up to find Luka standing there. Now he was wearing his Viperion hoodie, his face made up in a very good approximation of the mask Marinette had put on him when they played together, and he grinned widely at Marinette’s staring eyes. “Surprise.” 

Marinette sputtered for a moment, leaping to her feet as Max reversed his pacing and came over. “What are you—how did you even get back here?”

Luka shrugged, still grinning. “I’m on the team roster so I’m cleared to be here. I just wanted to wish you good luck,” he said, addressing them both though his eyes kept coming back to Marinette. “Not that you need it. I um, I hope this is okay.” He gestured vaguely at himself, and Marinette shut her gaping mouth with a snap. “I didn’t feel right wearing it while we were going head to head, but I just...I wanted to be here and support you guys as much as I could.” He held out his hand to Max, though he sent a worried-looking glance at Marinette, who couldn’t seem to move. 

“Absolutely,” Max said, stepping forward to meet Luka’s fistbump as if he didn’t notice Marinette was suddenly paralyzed next to him. “You’re a part of this team, and it wouldn’t feel right doing this without you.” 

Luka shifted uncomfortably. “I didn’t do that much.” 

Marinette’s mouth dropped open again, this time in outrage, but Max beat her to it. “Don’t conflate the magnitude of the effort with its importance,” he told Luka, reaching out to pat his arm awkwardly. Luka’s eyes flicked to Marinette for a moment and she could see his amusement, though he kept a straight face. “Without your assistance we would never have finished the tournament in such an advantageous position for the finals,” Max continued, drawing his hand back to adjust his dark glasses. “We are indeed grateful and your position as a teammate is by no means honorary. I hope when we emerge victorious, you will join us in the awards ceremony.” 

“Oh, I—” Luka looked thrown, but Marinette nodded enthusiastically, catching his arm and squeezing it.

“Max is right. You belong up there with us.” She aimed a reassuring smile at him. “I’m glad you’re here.” 

The tension left Luka’s shoulders and he started to say something, but he was cut off.

“Team Lucky Charm!” the man with the clipboard shouted without actually looking at them. “Prep for entry. Go up the stage steps but do not cross the yellow line until you’re announced.” 

Marinette’s eyes widened slightly, and her whole body tensed. Once again she put a hand over her wildly beating heart and tried to breathe. One more time. She just had to face the lights and the screaming one more time.

Luka’s hand covered hers on his arm and Marinette realized she was digging her fingers into his sleeve. “Hey,” he said, gently detaching her fingers from his sleeve. “You’ve got this. Just like before, right? Own it.” He drew her hand to his lips and kissed her fingertips lightly. Warmth spread from her fingers down her arm and through her body, pooling in her face and stomach. “Come on, before Max leaves you behind,” Luka said, letting go of her hand and placing his on her lower back, pressing gently until she began to move. He walked with her to the bottom of the stage’s metal stairs behind Max, who was marching forward with determination, confident that the numbers were on their side and determined not to be swayed by something as illogical as stage fright.

Marinette paused at the bottom of the stairs, Luka’s hand still warm on her back, her heart beating wildly in her throat. 

“Remember,” Luka soothed from behind her. “All you have to do is get across the stage and it doesn’t matter how. Once you’re in the pod you’ll forget everything else, just like before. Besides,” he grinned. “They’re just people. You’re the champion.” 

Marinette turned impulsively and hugged him tight. “Thank you,” she muttered, not quite daring to press her face into his chest. Luka’s hands went to her shoulders and squeezed. “Thank you for everything today.

“You’ve got this,” he repeated, sliding his hands down to her arms and shifting her gently back until she stepped up onto the first step, and once her eyes were level with his it became a little easier to breathe in the face of his calm confidence. “Whatever’s gonna happen is gonna happen, right? So just get out there and play.” He grinned. “Good luck, Ladybug.” 

Marinette felt an answering smile growing on her face.

“Marinette!” Max called from where he was waiting near the top of the stairs. “Hurry up!”

Marinette looked up at Max as Luka let go of her, but she turned back quickly, grabbed Luka’s face in her hands, and pressed her lips hard to his. He made a startled noise, and when she would have pulled back his hand came up to cradle the back of her head, prolonging the kiss as he swayed after her. Max hissed her name again from the top of the stairs and Luka let her go, breathing hard, something kindling in his blue eyes that made her flush and grin stupidly back at him. 

Then Max was grabbing her arm and hauling her, stumbling, back up the stairs with him. “The sooner you two have that talk, the better,” he muttered as they went up the last few steps together, Marinette trying to contain the stupid grin that kept wanting to break out on her face. "May I remind you we have a competition to win? The sooner it’s over, the sooner you two can go make out in a supply closet.”

“Max!” Marinette whisper-shouted in horror, and Max just grinned. 

“Win first,” he told her, adjusting his horseshoe pendant. “Kisses later.” 

Before she could retort, the announcer roared out, “Team Luckyyyyyy Chaaaarm!” and there was no more time to think about anything besides the bright lights and roaring crowd, and then the blink of the countdown and the hard plastic of the controller against her palms.

***

Luka was waiting when Marinette came flying down the stairs, a laughing Max following in her wake. 

This time she leapt into his arms, making him stagger, and her feet never touched the ground as he laughed and spun her around. He bounced her a couple of times before she let her feet drop to the floor and gave him enough room to share a fistbump and back-slapping hug with Max. 

Then everything was a whirl again, as all three of them were ushered to the press room for interviews and soundbites, and Marinette wasn’t sure whether she managed to get out anything coherent or not. She and Max both kept a hold on Luka, dragging him into the interviews with them, and they presented as a team. Luka’s experience bailed them out a couple of times when unexpected questions gave them pause, and his hand on her back was steadying when she started to stammer. Marinette paused and took a breath and steadied her voice before answering the next question. 

“You guys did great,” Luka murmured when they were finally released, and then there was another flood of bodies on them, and Alya was screaming in her ear and Max’s mother was screaming in his and then Kim wrapped his arms around both Max and Mrs. Kante just as Marinette’s dad did the same to her and Alya, and for a few moments it was a fight to breathe. Marinette saw a flash of Juleka’s purple hair and heard the Captain’s voice boom but everyone was talking at once and Marinette was too overwhelmed to focus on any of it.

Finally, the families were ushered back out to the stands with instructions to be back in their seats in forty-five minutes for the official awards ceremony. As the room began to clear out, leaving the top players milling around with varying expressions of elation and exhaustion. Marinette looked around and found Luka. He was looking right at her, and when their eyes met he tipped his head slightly and indicated the doors. Marinette nodded, heart suddenly in her throat, and Luka flashed her a quick grin before turning away. 

“Max,” Marinette whispered watching Luka slip out of the doors, “What are my odds?”

“The human heart is impossible to calculate, Marinette,” Max said, putting his hand on her shoulder. “Although that kiss would argue for a positive response.” He squeezed her shoulder lightly. “No matter what happens, I support you one hundred percent.”

Marinette’s brain was already humming, giving her a list of excuses and reasons why it would be better to put this off, starting with the looming awards ceremony and moving on from there, but Max’s hand on her shoulder and Kagami’s words in her mind got her moving forward. No more hesitation. 

Marinette wormed her way through the bodies between her and the door and slipped out. She nearly collided with Luka, who was clearly waiting for her. He flashed her a grin and caught her hand, tugging her down the hallway. 

“Luka, where are we going?” Marinette hissed as he walked quickly, pulling her along.

“Somewhere we can talk,” he told her, keeping his voice quiet. “Just don’t make too much noise, okay?” 

Marinette frowned. “We better not really end up in a supply closet.” 

“What?” Luka nearly choked trying to muffle his laughter. “No, I promise, I can do better than that. My mom’s played this arena a couple of times, I know my way around.”

“But—” Marinette began, but then closed her mouth as Luka opened the door to a stairwell and started up it. “I don’t think we’re supposed to be up here,” she whispered as Luka checked the floor number and peeked through the window of the door. 

“Nope,” he grinned, opening the door and motioning her through. “Do you trust me?”

She did, so she went through. “We’re not going to the roof this time, are we?” she asked skeptically, and Luka chuckled. 

“Not this time.” She followed him down a dimly lit hallway and did her best not to squeal in incredulous dismay as he jimmied a door lock with a credit card. 

“All the security on the entrances, and crap locks up here,” he said, swinging the door open. “Typical.” 

“I didn’t realize you were a cat burglar in your spare time,” Marinette muttered as he took her hand and drew her inside what turned out to be some kind of private viewing lounge. She could see through the big windows down into the stadium, and the room was scattered with couches and cocktail tables. 

“Nah,” Luka laughed quietly through his nose, slipping his wallet back into his pocket. “I’m a pirate.” 

Marinette looked at him, and he winked at her with that grin, and she couldn’t help breaking into giggles. “You are, aren’t you,” she laughed, covering her mouth. Luka snickered with her, and for a moment they could only stand there trying to stifle their laughter. Luka made no move to turn the lights on, probably to keep anyone from noticing that the room was occupied, but there was enough light from the windows that they didn’t need it, and eventually their laughter died down, and they were left just looking at each other. 

Luka cleared his throat, pulling two bottles of water from the pockets of his hoodie. He held one out to her and she took it gratefully, suddenly aware she was parched. 

“I feel like you’ve been taking care of me all day,” Marinette said, stifling more slightly hysterical giggles, and Luka grinned at her. 

“Sorry. Big brother thing I guess. Or...well, maybe not,” he blushed and looked away. “I just know you’ve been pushing yourself a lot lately, and today was…” He blew out a breath and shook his head with a grin. “A lot. It can really take it out of you if you’re not taking care of yourself, so...sorry if I’ve been pushy.” 

Marinette smiled at him over the rim of her water bottle as he reached to twist the cap off his own. “I didn’t mi—whoa, are you okay?” she reached out to steady him as he suddenly fumbled it, spilling water over his hands.  

“Fine,” he said, a little too quickly, shaking the water off his hand without looking at her. “I’m fine.” He took a drink and then coughed, and Marinette pounded his back, concerned. 

“Geeze, slow down,” she said, torn between amusement and exasperation. “Maybe somebody ought to be taking care of you.”

He coughed through an embarrassed laugh. “Sorry. God, you always catch me off guard.” 

Marinette blushed, though she didn’t understand exactly what he meant. Getting control of himself he added quickly, “Congratulations. You and Max both did amazing. I think I screamed myself hoarse cheering you on.” 

Marinette hunched her shoulders slightly with a pleased smile. “You did really great too. I can’t wait to watch the replays, I heard you destroyed Desperada in the second round.”

Luka winced. “Yeah, that was rough, our skills just…” He shook his head. “She’s an amazing player with what she’s got but she’s basically never beaten me because of the way our stats stack up. She’s done so well, I hated for her to go down like that, but…” He shrugged and grinned. “I did what I had to do. Wasn’t going to miss going up against you in the final.”

Marinette grinned back, and then dropped her gaze, a silence falling between them that threatened to become awkward if one of them didn’t find a way to start. Determined that it would be her, Marinette began in a rush. “Um. Well I wanted to—we haven’t really talked, a-about, and we said we would, and I know maybe it might seem like we don’t need to, and, well this might not actually be the best time but if we wait for the perfect moment it’ll never happen, and I know we, uh, before, and then tonight, and so maybe we don’t need to but I just, I hate it when there are all these misunderstandings because people don’t talk and we should talk and—stop laughing!”

“Sorry,” Luka said, bringing up a hand to cover his mouth as he continued to chuckle. “I can’t help it. I’m happy and you’re really cute.”   

“Damn it,” she hissed, reaching up with both hands to pull on her pigtails in frustration, “I’m so bad at this!”

“You’re doing fine,” Luka said, taking the bottle of water from her and setting both hers and his on one of the tables. He stepped closer and put both hands on her shoulders, and rubbed lightly. “I can go first if you’d rather.” 

Marinette groaned and buried her face in her hands, suddenly mortifyingly close to tears. She was being an idiot. He’d kissed her, and let her kiss him, and acted like he wanted to keep kissing her, and with the texts during the week, and the way he’d been smiling at her all night, and he came to her fashion show, and bringing her up here and the way he was acting now, he really couldn’t be more clear, so why was she still so terrified? 

“Marinette,” he said, his voice soft and affectionate, “Listen, I think you’re—”

“No!” she yelled, throwing out her hands and stepping back from him, breaking his hold on her shoulders. “No, I have to do this, please.” 

God, she was going to ruin everything, he must think she was insane. There was no way that she could explain to him the utter train wreck that had been her years-long crush-obsession with Adrien Agreste, all the things she’d said and completely failed to say, all the time she’d spent analyzing their least little interactions, all the times she’d practically stalked him only to lose her courage and lie at the last minute, until finally, finally, the words passed her lips in a jumbled wreck and were met with— 

She peeked one eye open and could see that Luka was looking at her with concern. His eyes were blue and not green, his hair dark and not blond, and the expression on his face was concern and empathy and not blank confusion.

It wasn’t the same. She could do this. It wouldn’t be the same. It wasn’t the same. She wasn’t the same.

“Are you sure?” Luka said hesitantly. “If it’s this hard for you, then—I mean I thought you’d know by now that I—but you don’t have to say anything you’re not ready for, you know that, right?” 

“No, it’s not that, and it’s not you, it’s me, and I need to deal with it. Please, Luka,” Marinette added desperately. She needed to put this ghost to rest and this was the only way she knew how.

“Okay. Okay, Marinette.” He reached up and took her hands, tugging them gently away from her face and then pulling her over to sit on one of the small couches. “I’m listening. Do what you need to do.”

“I’m sorry,” she sighed, slumping back for a minute. “It’s just, the last time I did something like this it...it didn’t go so well and I know this is different, I do, but it’s...it’s hard. But I want to. I want to do it. I...I kind of need this, Luka.”

“Okay.” Luka slid a little closer, his hands still wrapped around hers. “I hear you. Take your time. I’m not going anywhere.” 

“Right,” Marinette whispered, half to herself. “Okay.” Luka squeezed her hands and she realized they were shaking. She needed to get this over with before she went completely to pieces. Why did he always have that effect on her?

No.

Adrien had that effect on her. 

Luka—Marinette forced herself to raise her eyes to Luka’s, and saw only warmth and encouragement there. She straightened and put her shoulders back and took a breath to steady herself, though the shaking didn’t stop.

“I r-really like you, Luka,” she began, wincing slightly at the stutter and feeling her lips begin to tremble too. “You’ve been a wonderful teammate and a good f-friend, but you’re—” She swallowed hard; this was too close, too close to the words she’d used back then, but it was too late, she had to keep going. “You’re so much more than a friend to me,” she went on in a rush. “At least, I—I want you to be. S-so maybe, if you, um, if you want to, maybe we could go out. Sometime. On a date. A real date, not a just-friends date.” She squeezed her eyes shut and looked down quickly, face burning, suddenly feeling totally inept and like a complete fool and what had she been thinking—

“Yeah.”

Marinette looked up. “What?” Luka was grinning broadly, and he looked oddly...proud. Of her? 

Maybe he really was as perceptive as Juleka said.

Shit he was talking, she should listen. 

“I said yes. Yes, hell yeah, I’d love to go out with you.” 

Marinette blinked at him uncomprehendingly. Luka laughed at the look on her face. “You’re unbelievable,” he chuckled, shaking his head. “Smart, sassy, gorgeous, tough, incredibly brave, why wouldn’t I go out with you? Do you really think I’m that big an idiot?” 

She gaped at him like a fish.

“Can it be my turn now?” Luka asked, when she didn’t find anything to say, and she nodded dumbly, not entirely sure her soul was still inhabiting her body.

Luka leaned toward her and gently framed her face in his hands. “Marinette, these last few months have been the best I’ve had in a long time and you’ve been a huge part of that, as an opponent and a friend and...honestly the more time I spend with you the more amazing you are to me. I know there’s probably still a lot we don’t know about each other, but I want to. I want you to know me, and I want to know you. All of you. I want to be an expert in Marinette Dupain-Cheng.” 

Marinette had to giggle at that, slapping her hand over her mouth in horror at the high-pitched girly sound of it. Luka’s grin widened as he shook his head and pulled her hand away from her mouth, threading his fingers through hers and lowering their hands to his lap. “Don’t cover it up, it’s so pretty,” he told her, and his slow grin set off an entirely different panic as he tipped her chin up with his free hand, brushing his thumb lightly across her lips. “I was right about the red,” he said, and when did his face get so close, oh no, but also yes, but wait was this too soon or should she—but she wanted to and if he wanted to then that was good enough, right? ”Can I kiss you now?”

“Okay,” she said shakily, and he leaned in slowly, watching her face. 

“You sure?” he said, pausing and sitting back a bit. “You don’t look like you—”

As she stared at Luka frowning with concern because he thought she didn’t want to kiss him, there was almost an audible snap in her head as the past settled back where it belonged and the now became sharp and clear. What the hell was she doing?

Marinette grabbed the front of Luka’s hoodie and dragged him forward. “Get over here,” she ordered, though the breathiness in her voice took a lot of the force out of it. It was enough, though, Luka closed the distance with a desperate little noise and their lips met once, twice, three times in hard, passionate kisses, before finally settling together into something softer but no less heated. The hand under her chin slid up to flatten along the side of her throat, and then slid farther back to curl around the back of her neck, Luka’s thumb brushing her jaw as he tilted her back. He was kissing her like—like— 

Like he really did like her as much as she liked him, like he meant all those things he said to her, like he’d been thinking about it for a while now— 

And he was really good at it, she acknowledged dizzily as his lips began coaxing hers to open. 

But hell if she was going to let him run the show. She nipped his lower lip and he startled slightly. Grinning in the small space that granted her, Marinette wrapped her arm around his neck and pulled the other free from his hand to grab the back of the couch and pull, forcing him back as she straightened and rolled up to her knees so that he was the one with his head tilted back, and only then did she part her lips and slide her tongue into his mouth, hands moving to hold his face at just the right angle. The strangled noise he made and the way he grabbed at her hips was very satisfying. It felt so good to get some payback after all the time she’d spent agonizing over her crush on him. She wasn’t even sure he was aware of the way his hands were scrabbling against her, trying to pull her into his lap. 

She broke the kiss, laughing when he tried to follow her to prolong it. “Easy, we still have to go back in public after this,” she teased, and Luka groaned, letting his head fall back against the bench.

“Fuck me,” he muttered breathlessly, and Marinette snorted, leaning against him.

“What kind of girl do you think I am?” she scoffed, and Luka’s eyes flew open. 

“No, no, God, no, I didn’t mean, I wouldn’t—” 

Marinette let him stammer for another few moments out of pure revenge for all those times he had grinned at her while she tripped over her tongue, before she leaned in and kissed him, softly this time. “Shut up and put yourself back together, Viperion, we still have an awards ceremony to get through.”

“ Shit. ” Luka let go of her and covered his face with his hands. “I’m gonna need a minute.” 

Marinette put her hand over her mouth and tried not to laugh but she couldn’t help it. She was just so happy. Luka dropped his hands and grinned at her, reaching out to snag her around the waist and pull her close, kissing her even as she continued to laugh, pure joy singing from her soul as she pretended to dodge him. He planted kisses on her jaw and her neck as she squealed and tried half-heartedly to wriggle away before giving up and turning to kiss him again on the mouth, and then again, and then again, slow, deep kisses. 

“What?” she asked as Luka chuckled against her mouth. 

“Nothing,” he sighed, nudging his nose against hers. “Just feeling lucky I guess. I’m so happy, Marinette.” 

Marinette smiled, but they did need to be getting back, so she pushed his hands away for real and slid off the couch.

She bit her lip in amusement when Luka whined, leaning his elbows on the back of the couch and letting his head hang back. “Do we have to?” he groaned. “I really hate ceremonies.”

“Yes,” Marinette grinned, grabbing his hand and pulling him up off the couch. “I want to see you up there, right in the number two spot where you belong.” 

“Oh, low,” Luka laughed, dragging his feet as she tugged him towards the door. “Wait, wait.” He pulled his hand free and turned back to grab their water. “Never leave evidence behind,” he said, handing her one of the bottles with a wink. “Especially not evidence with lipstick stains.” 

Marinette giggled. “Wait, is that why you—” 

“No comment,” Luka said, cheeks reddening as he threw the incriminating evidence in the hallway’s recycling bin.

They weren’t very sneaky coming back down the stairs, giggling and snuggling and nearly tripping more than once because they were standing too close together. 

When they emerged into the full light of the hallway outside of the lounge, Luka looked at Marinette and smirked. “Hey Ladybug.” 

“Hmm?” Marinette raised her eyebrows.

Luka leaned in and kissed her until they were both breathless. “Fix your lipstick,” he whispered against her lips, and laughed as Marinette cursed and jerked back, slapping a hand over her mouth. Her red lipstick had held up to the relatively innocent kisses backstage, but now it was smeared all over his mouth, blended with the peach he’d been wearing, and her face couldn’t possibly look any better. Luka burst out laughing at her expression, and Marinette began to giggle again too. 

“Here, I have some wipes,” he managed to say at last, pulling a packet of makeup remover wipes from his back pocket. “Let me help.” 

“You should, since it was your fault,” Marinette shot back, taking the packet from him and pulling a wipe free. She pouted as Luka snatched it back from her fingers, but she didn’t really mean it, and she let him take her chin in his hand and tilt her face up.

“I’m not even sorry,” Luka chuckled, eyes on her lips as he gently wiped away the smears. “I’ll buy you a better brand.” He winked, and then his humor settled into a quiet contentment that shone in his face. “That was pretty amazing, Marinette. I hope we can do it again sometime soon. Maybe I could take you out to dinner and—”

“Marinette!” Max called, bursting out of the doors down the hall and looking around for a moment before spotting them. His shoulders slumped in relief. “There you are! You weren’t answering your phone, I was getting concerned. It’s almost time.”

Luka winced, going to work quickly on his own face. “Busted,” he murmured, and Marinette could hear the laughter in his voice.

Marinette snorted. “Like he didn’t already know. He’s been teasing me about you since we met.” She raised her voice and called, “We’re coming.” She took Luka’s hand and tugged him along with her back to the doors where Max was waiting. 

Max adjusted his glasses and looked at his phone. “We’re due for the ceremony in two minutes and forty-five seconds.” 

“Thanks for the heads up,” Marinette smiled. “I’m good to go, I just need to grab my makeup bag and fix my lipstick.”

Luka made a noise that sounded suspiciously like choked laughter, but Marinette didn’t look at him, squeezing his hand tight enough that he winced. 

“Oh, you left it on the drink table earlier, I picked it up for you,” Max said, pulling her lipstick tube out of his pocket and coming down the hallway to meet him. “It looks good to me, though, are you sure you want to take the time?”

Luka coughed into his hand, obviously trying not to laugh, but Max didn’t even glance at him.

“It’ll only be a second,” Marinette said, taking the tube from him. She opened it and paused as they reached the doors, using her reflection in the window to apply her lipstick over her naturally reddened lips. She could see Luka over her shoulder finger-combing his hair back into place. She capped the tube and handed it to Luka with a wink. “Hold onto it for me? I have a feeling I might need it again later.”

“Sure,” Luka grinned, and reached around her to pull the door open. “Just find me whenever you’re ready to need a touch up.” 

It was Marinette’s turn to choke on a laugh, while Max threw Luka a slightly puzzled glance, but clearly dismissed his odd phrasing in favor of ushering them all back into the ceremony. Marinette grinned. Max might think he’s all worldly, but when he’s focused on something he doesn’t notice anything.

***

They made it through the awards ceremony and almost an hour of the afterparty, accepting congratulations and fistbumps and handshakes and ribbing (mostly good-natured, some not so much, but Marinette had never cared less in her life than she did at that moment). Then someone on the game committee stood up to make a speech and Marinette saw her opportunity. She grabbed the lapel of Luka’s hoodie and tugged lightly. He met her gaze and grinned, following her pull willingly. 

She ducked into a shadowed hall, pulling him just beyond the light from the party, and as soon as she leaned back against the wall he was bending over her, though the kiss he laid on her lips was soft and gentle and over much too quickly. 

“Sorry,” he murmured, with a lopsided grin. “That was kind of presumptuous I guess.” 

Marinette grabbed the lapels of his hoodie and pulled him in for another soft kiss. “Maybe. I don’t mind though.”

“I really like you, Marinette,” Luka said, one hand finding her hip while the other leaned on the wall beside her. “In case I didn’t make that clear before. Not just kissing you, though, for the record, I really like that too, but. You. It’s you.” 

Marinette smiled, a happy flutter in her stomach making her wiggle a bit. “You should probably know I’ve had a massive crush on you for weeks,” she admitted shyly, still holding on to his hoodie. 

Luka’s grin got wider, his eyes lighting up. “Yeah? Weeks?”

Marinette pouted at him. “Don’t lie, you knew.” 

Luka chuckled and looked away. “Maybe. I just...I didn’t know what to do with it for a while. I didn’t want to lead you on if I wasn’t...but then I was, and...” He looked back at her and grinned slowly. “Just weeks, huh?” 

Marinette shrugged, looking somewhere over his left shoulder. “Weeks. Months. Something like that.” She twirled her finger in the string of his hoodie, still not quite looking at him. “So I’m maybe not at all opposed to—presumption.” 

“That’s, um…” He was clearly trying to keep his smile under control, but it wasn’t working. The grin on his face was rapidly crossing into idiotic. Marinette giggled. “That’s really good to hear,” he continued, “because I’ve been getting really stupid over you really fast since we started working together, so...I’m kinda glad you got a head start. It’s actually really flattering coming from a girl like you.”

Marinette frowned slightly. “A girl like me?

Luka gave her an amused look. “Maybe you haven’t noticed, Marinette, but you’re kind of a catch.” 

Marinette blinked at him, startled, and Luka buried his face in her shoulder to muffle his laughter. “Oh my God, you really hadn’t noticed. You’re so damn cute.” 

“Cute!” Marinette huffed indignantly, but Luka lifted his face from her shoulder and nudged his nose against hers with a low chuckle that made her shiver.

“Adorable,” he told her, with so much affection that she couldn’t be offended. “Also really, seriously hot, which, I don’t even know how you manage to do both of those at once, but—” He cleared his throat. “Can I—” 

“Yes,” Marinette giggled, tugging on his hoodie, and he bent, closing his eyes and kissing her with a slow heat that made her weak. She slid her hands up his firm chest and over his shoulders until they met behind his neck, savoring the pleased noise he made. Luka broke from her mouth and laid soft kisses along her jaw. 

“When can I see you again?” he asked, his voice so deep it was practically a growl, and Marinette shivered again. Luka cocked his head slightly. “You okay?” 

“I, um,” Marinette bit her lip. “I really like your voice,” she admitted in a rush. 

“Yeah?” That idiotic grin was growing on his face again and she was rapidly falling in love with it, with the way that he looked at her…

With him. She was falling pretty hard for him. And her only consolation was that he seemed to be tumbling head over heels along with her. The idea of loving someone who loved her back was...heady, to say the least. Not even the most euphoric moments of her ill-fated pining compared to this.

“Marinette?” he prompted, nudging his nose against hers. “I’m serious. I really want to see you again soon.” 

She kissed him again, just because he was so close. He chased her when she would have ended it, and she smiled against his lips before letting him coax her into a much longer, deeper kiss. 

“Wednesday?” she said, when he finally drew back. 

“Hm?” he blinked slightly glazed eyes and Marinette giggled. She straightened up off of the wall and leaned into him instead, fingers sliding up to play with the short hair at the nape of his neck. 

“Wednesday,” she repeated. “You can pick me up at seven. Bring your guitar, you promised to play for me again.” 

“I did,” he agreed, voice dipping low again as his hand slid around to the small of her back. “I can’t wait.” 

“Bring your A-game,” she told him. “I expect to be swept off my feet. But come hungry and plan somewhere light for dinner because my parents will freak when I tell them I have a boyfriend. There will definitely be appetizers. There might be cake. Maybe even a souffle. You tell Papa his rematch will have to wait though because I’m not sharing you this time.”  

The dopey grin returned. “I’m your boyfriend?” 

Marinette blinked, and then blushed hotly, which both made him grin wider and limited her ability to play it off, but she did her best. “You’re on trial. Think you can handle it?”

“Oh, definitely,” he chuckled, and that dopey grin turned into the pirate grin that always made her melt. “The question is, can you?” 

“Oh that’s how it is,” Marinette managed, raising her eyebrows. 

“Yeah,” he murmured, freeing one hand to slip it behind her neck and tilt her face up. “That's how it is. So you let me know when you’re convinced.” His lips descended on hers and his body pressed hers in the wall and by the time he was done kissing her Marinette was pretty thoroughly convinced.

Not that she planned to admit it anytime soon.

She was pretty sure she was going to like this game.

[shuskas-story-book]

Just like this

‘

Art/Sauron/Cyrusk all belong to @clockworkreapers​!!!

This story is a fusion of two songs to try and get a good mix of both of the characters personalities.  Saurons song was ‘One last time’ by Jaymes Young and Cy’s song is ‘just like this’ by the chainsmokers/coldplay 

This is my half of an art trade with one of the best artists I have the honor of calling a friend and I hope that I’ve done them, and her, justice with this story. 

PLEASE NOTE Sauron is a MUTE character and is thinking all of his parts. As such I have them in ITALLICS  to help discern their parts of a conversation

please enjoy~ and Thank you so much to Clock once again for allowing me the honor of writing about these lovable dorks!!!!!

((minor spelling errors now corrected))

Two shadows could be seen passing through the abandoned part of the old town, soft whispers heard as one seems to be reading the other's thoughts. The darkness didn’t bother the two males, in fact it was comfortable for the two as they worked themselves into a long forgotten  apartment building. With the comfortable closeness they had, even with the muted troll carrying a couple bags of goodies they had a good clip to their pace. “Come on Sauron, we're almost to the top'' The leader said softly, a chuckle in his throat as his rust companion rolled his eyes.  

Yea yea I know we are Cy. We've come up here how many times now? Sauron thought to his companion, smiling a bit as Cyrusk laughed at him. “I know I know. And you know how much I love coming up here!” He hummed in return, opening the door to the roof and taking a deep breath as he stepped back out into the cold night air. 

The two were now far above the abandoned streets of the ghost town and able to really see the stars that twinkled in the sky above them. Sauron gave a soft sigh and closed his eyes for a moment before moving over and settling himself on the edge of the roof  with his feet hanging off the edge.  This feels nice. A good breeze, no neons blinding us to the stars… “No one to bother us as we just watch the sky till daylight” Cyrusk finished for his mate, a sweet smile on his lips. The rust blood looked up and let an unfamiliar quirk of a smile to grace its way over his features. 

You know, Ive been reading a lot of old books in my spare time recently. All about the old legends and myths like that of Achilles and his gold and Heracles and the gifts he received  “yea? I personally would rather read about Spider-Man’s control and Batman training with his lusus” Cy rambled in response, making a few joking jabs at Sauron's shoulder with a happy smile. The rust just rolled his eyes and let out a silent little sigh.

Cyrusk was about the only person he ever smiled for nowadays, and in all honesty that’s sort of how Sauron liked it. He hated to really show his soft side to those around him and Cy? Cy was a special case that was just for him. A special person that he could properly trust with his red quadrant. 

Of course I’ll never see myself on any lists like this, My caste doesn't really show up in the history books after all  Sauron thought to the other, shaking his head and jumping a bit as Cyrusk reached out and  carefully cupped his lover’s  cheek. “Hey…..Where do you want to go?” he asked, leaving the mute completely flabbergasted  what?

“Where do you want to go Sauron. How much do you really want to risk?” he continued to ask, his eye  lidding half way as he offered a sadly sweet smile. “Because I’m not really looking for anyone with superhero gifts. No superhero. Just us” he said sweetly, Sauron tilting his head and offering a small pout in return 

No blissful fairy-tale?.....Because in all honesty I don't want that either….I just want someone I can turn to when I’m depressed again and…..someone I can kiss when I’m feeling happy.. Cyrusk smiled and nodded, leaning in to press a soft little kiss to Sauron’s head. “I want something exactly like that Mr. Yetzar” he chuckled, getting a raspy little groan as the rust rolled his eyes, and honestly his head as well at the sappy little piece of sass beside him. 

They sat there and Cy eventually got Sauron to smile again with his shenanigans, the two of them drinking and smoking through the next few hours as the sun began to rise. With it being a weekend for them, the couple had planned on just staying in the abandoned apartments to wait out the burning rays of their world’s sun. Cyrusk managed to pass out long before his lover and it allowed Sauron to relax a bit….not have to guard himself and worry about what thoughts were running through his mind that could have accidentally been ‘seen’ by Cy’s ability. 

The rust sighed and sat up from the pallet they had managed to set up so he could turn his eyes over to the window that was covered up with black curtains to block out the light of day. You know Cy...I’m fading… and it's much, much too fast for me… God, I could drop off the face of the planet right now and… Cy’s voice rang in his head from earlier  “I want something just like this Sauron. Just the two of us here on this rooftop. Nothing special, just us and a couple good drinks” 

I’m fading much too fast for you...you deserve so much more than my love. The rust looked back to his lover and took a chance to reach out and lightly caress the bronze blood’s cheek with a sad little smile. I’m waiting for it to pass… When I’m with you I don't feel like I'm about to fade away into nothingness, that I'm going to just slip away. He admitted to himself. The heat of Sauron’s fingers caused Cyrusk to groan softly and shift to his side, prompting Sauron to finally lay back down against his lover. These days were always so long, always full of sleeplessness for the rust….but with the warmth of another beside him that he trusted he was able to fall into a mostly restful sleep.

*********************************

“You know Sauron, last night's conversation kinda niggled at the back of my mind all night…. And it reminds me that I read a few older comics recently you know?” Cyrusk hummed as the two of them were settled right back on the rooftop with a fresh bag of drinks and snacks. “ and even though they were just comics you could really recognize the testaments they told and what legends and myths they actually followed” he rambled, Sauron rolling his eyes a bit and taking a deep drag of his cigarette as he continued to listen. 

“They went through this one arc where the moon was eclipsing and superman had to fully unroll a costume to change into instead of just having it ready under his normal suit! It was so interesting to see that differential!” he hummed, eyes turning up to their moons with a smile. You know I'm not the kind of person who really reads comics right? Cyrusk sighed and shook his head a bit with a pout “you realize that I don't care about that right? We ramble back and forth and that’s just our way of showing our love right?” he asked, head tilting to the side lightly as he reached out to move some hair out of Sauron’s face. 

The rust was spooked a bit at the sudden hand in his face but relaxed a bit as he turned a tired little look to the other. He took a deep breath and put out the end of his cigarette before pulling his legs back off the ledge of the roof and facing the bronze with an oddly forward motion of reaching out to cup Cy’s cheek

Cyrusk....we only have one more night before I have to leave on an assignment for a while…..Can I just….feel your skin against mine for the day?..... Before I have to say goodbye? He asked curiously, a tilt to his head Or just…. I don't know…. I feel like I can't breathe tonight. I want to breathe one last time, I want to be able to feel your breath  against my skin, share your breath again…..before I have to go on my assignment. Cyrusk just listened in confusion before melting at his matesprit’s words. He leaned into the touch and kissed Sauron's palm with a sweet smile “of course…..Where do you wanna go for this? Do you want to lay down and cuddle? Do you want to take a risk and go on a joyride with a busted drone?” he asked, trying to offer Sauron something that wasn't just wallowing in the despair and anxiety he could see settling in his love's eyes. “You know I'm not looking for anyone with special gifts or a high position in life so even if we just sit here it’s all I could ever ask for” he hummed, shifting over to press his thigh to the rust’s gently.

“You don't have to make our lives some kind of fairy-tale, you just need to stay here and stay alive so I have someone to turn to… and someone I can miss when they’re out on assignments” Cy chuckled softly, leaning in and pressing a kiss to Sauron’s cheek gently as the rust wrapped his arms around the others waist in a tight hug. 

I feel like my world’s been losing its light Cy… “well then let it loose light. I’ll be here with a flashlight and a candle for when the batteries die” he hummed, pulling Sauron in for a tight hug “I want to stay just like this…..”

*********************************

The day had passed once more, leaving the two with precious few hours to spend together like this. Sauron woke up first of course, not really having been able to sleep through the day and just listening to Cyrusk snoring seemed to help the day before. He sighed and closed his eyes as he allowed himself to have a moment of peace. His arms wrapped around the bronze as he buried his face in that fluff of hair that always seemed to hide that eye that he loved to see. 

I have to leave soon…..pack my bags and get on the train....this is a cold, cruel world we live in huh Cy?  He thought to himself, sighing and staring off at the far wall as he just let himself sit in the relative silence of their embrace. 

“Hey Sauron? Where’d you wanna go if we could just risk it all and leave right here and now?”

Sauron turned his eyes down to Cy’s sleeping face and smiled a bit to himself as he listened to his memories. No pleading could turn back time for us to redo this weekend….. I’m glad I spent it with you Cyrusk… You mean the world to me, even if I don't tell you or show you as often as you deserve. You tell me you aren’t looking for someone that has super powers or a lot of money but…. I do want to at least bring your life a bit of joy from time to time

Sauron hadn't noticed Cyrusk waking up, having zoned out as he thought and got settled with his chin on the other’s head again. The bronze smiled a bit and nuzzled up into Sauron's touch, accidentally causing the rust to jump and pulling a sleepy little chuckle out of the bronze’s chest. “You don't gotta be so dour…. You just gotta be someone I can turn back to and kiss when ‘m happy” he hummed softly, Sauron smiling sadly. 

Good evening Cyrusk….. He thought in return, honestly happy to just be there for once. Cy….is it ok that I can feel your skin against mine? He asked softly, head tilting lightly as the bronze in his arms stretched a bit he got a nod in return and relaxed again with a rumbly little hum in his chest that wouldn't really have a sound anymore. I’m safe….I have someone to kiss before I have to say goodbye again….. I can breathe again tonight…..as long as I have you in my arms I can always pull through and breathe so much easier than if i was on my own he thought to the other, getting a sweet smile in return

“And you know what? I want nothing more than this right here. I want you to be right here, happy, safe, and feeling like you are free as a bird” he hummed sweetly, the alarms on Sauron’s phone starting to go off to warn them of their time together dwindling. The rust glared at his phone as though it had told him he was unlovable and reached over to smack the screen so it would shut up. 

“Hey Sauron?.....Can we share one last cig before you go?...give you a chance to calm down again before the walk home?” he asked softly, sitting up with a soft groan and another stretch to pop his back. Sauron nodded and stretched out now that his lover was sitting up instead of being curled into a singular position against his chest. 

Yea…. I’d enjoy one last chance to take a deep breath of you so I don't curl up and die on the ride to the next town over. Cy frowned “How about lets don't? I’d like you to come back so I can hug you and tell you how much I missed you while you were gone!” he huffed, poking his love in the side and getting an almost squeak out of the lanky male.  Sauron pouted and glared at the other with a huff as he sat up and crossed his legs before getting a good look at his lover and giving a small little smile. You know what Cy….My world might be losing light but….I think it’s just so you can burn a little brighter…..

 I love you

“I love you too”

[bookishbarnowl]

A Night Masked With Changes: Chapter 1

Once a month, the town held a Masquerade Ball. Ostensibly, it was a chance to catch up with your neighbors and enjoy a night of carefree revelry. In reality, it was paradise for anyone who wanted to get away from who they were during the day. Not everyone hid their identities, but most did, and they came from all walks of life.

Clay's finally ready to attend the Ball himself, determined to explore the world beyond the castle. Romance is not something he accounted for. Whoops.

Warnings: None

Relationships: Dream & Technoblade (twins), Dream/George, Dream & Wilbur, Dream & Sapnap, Dream & Fundy, Phil/Kristen

Word Count: 1,929

Ao3 Link: Here

Chapters: 1 (here) 2 3 …

The clock in the Great Hall had just sounded twice, and the castle was silent. Guards were just beginning to nod at their posts, servants had long since retired to bed, and the royal family should have been asleep in their beds. The young crown prince was defying expectations.

Clay carefully shut the door of his bedroom with a quiet click, his usual extravagant attire exchanged for a simplistic suit of forest green and a dark cloak. He’d spent the last few nights working on his mask, a blank white disc carefully fitted to his face and painted with a plain black smile. It was embellished with stylized ferns and edged with painstakingly painted daisies. He was proud of it, perhaps embarrassingly so. Art was not one of his strong points.

He spared a quick glance towards the door a few rooms down from his own, knowing his twin, Technoblade, was asleep inside. He’d seriously considered dragging him along on this little excursion he had planned, but ultimately decided he couldn’t risk it. His brother could carry a secret to his grave if he wanted to, but he was a serious stick in the mud about rule breaking. Clay’s general rule of thumb with his brother was that if it could get him in trouble, he kept it to himself, and he really didn’t want his dad to find out about this. This was most definitely in that category, so tonight he was alone.

The other person he’d desperately wanted to confide in was George, his best friend. Technically, he was Clay’s valet and manservant, but over the years their relationship had evolved into something much deeper than that. They spent most of the day together and their friendship had gone from tentative giggling at jokes the other made to raucous late night gossiping sessions and sharing practically everything with each other. George had been the first person brave enough to make fun of him (besides Techno- he didn’t count) and Dream found that he actually liked being the butt of a joke when he could laugh with the person and snap back with some witty retort. George wasn’t afraid of him, and when one was the crown prince, unprejudiced companionship was a valuable commodity.

His friend was currently asleep in the servants quarters far below him in the depths of the castle, sharing a bedroom with fellow servant Floris. After a lot of troubled consideration, he’d decided that he would keep this escapade a secret, at least for now. The worst that could happen to him was he’d be grounded or punished by his dad, but George could lose his job or even worse if he was discovered helping Clay sneak out of the castle. His father wouldn’t care whose idea it had been, only that they were both involved. He was not willing to put that on the line, so no matter how guilty it made him feel, he was going to do this by himself. Besides, Floris was a light sleeper. It would be hard to avoid waking him up.

He slipped down the hall and crept down the stairs on cat feet, tying the strings of the mask behind his head as he went. Getting out of the castle was a simple matter, he’d long ago discovered a window that was loose in its casing and large enough to fit through while being light enough to lift by himself. He could slot it back into place from either side of the wall, which made it the perfect escape route.

The outer wall was a bit more of a challenge, but there was a reason he’d waited until this exact moment. There were only twenty minutes until the next change of the guard, so they would be tired and bleary from four hours of alertness. If he was careful, he could sneak up to a parapet and let himself down with a rope, which is exactly what he did.

He landed on the ground with a soft thud, tying his rope to a nearby tree so that it couldn’t be pulled back up without a hassle. He checked that his mask was secure on his face, then darted off into the night, bound for the brightly lit village in the distance.

Once a month, the town held a Masquerade Ball. Ostensibly, it was a chance to catch up with your neighbors and enjoy a night of carefree revelry. In reality, it was paradise for anyone who wanted to get away from who they were during the day. Not everyone hid their identities, but most did, and they came from all walks of life. Some came in shoddily patched linen with burlap sacks over their faces and some came in fine silk with embroidered bandanas hiding the countenances of high profile officials, but all were treated with the same welcoming spirit. One’s real name was a well-respected secret, and unmasking someone was the ultimate act of cowardice. Anyone who broke that trust would be punished without remorse.

Clay had known about the event for quite some time now, having heard a few details from George, and had finally worked up the courage to attend himself. He was sick and tired of everyone looking at him and seeing someone to be impressed and flattered. He wanted to meet someone as himself for once. Tonight, he wasn’t the crown prince. With the mask and costume on, he became Dream, his idealized self.

He snuck into the town square through an inconspicuous alleyway, ducking into the crowd and hoping he hadn’t been noticed by too many people. He wasn’t looking to draw attention yet. He got a few looks, but most people were content to return to their own conversations and pay him no mind. He was about to sigh in relief, glad to have made it in unscathed, when someone touched his shoulder. He jumped and rapidly turned to face them.

It was a man in a pale tunic and dark pants, the bottom half of his face covered with a cream-colored bandana and sparkling black eyes winking mischievously at him from the upper half.

“Welcome to the Ball,” he offered cheerfully. “You seem like you haven’t been here before.”

Clay nodded, not trusting himself to speak yet without giving himself away.

“Well, if you’d like a dance partner, I would be honored to make your acquaintance.” The man bowed cheekily, extending his hand in invitation.

Clay couldn’t think of a good reason to refuse. He was Dream now, and Dream took risks. Dream could afford to dance with strangers without fear of judgement. He nodded again and took the man’s hand. He was promptly whisked off to the center of the square, where about a dozen couples were dancing to the lively music.

He was grateful for the years of rigorous lessons he had to fall back on as the masked man swept him into the forms of the dance with confident ease. His new friend was leading, but he found he didn’t care much and excitement thrilled in his heart as the man swung him into a dip with a brilliant smile that was obvious even with his mouth obscured.

He felt so alive he could fly, grinning like a madman as the two of them twirled across the square in perfect step. His cape swirled behind him in effortless elegance when he spun, the lightweight fabric echoing his thoughts as he realized he could never happily go back to the heavy woolen mantle he wore to formal events. He’d never danced like this outside of the privacy of his lessons, and it was exhilarating.

The last measure of the song sounded with a triumphant zing, moving into a more sedate melody. His dance partner bowed once again, breathing hard and eyes wild with delight. Clay, equally tired and elated, bowed low in return.

“May I steal you for one more?” the man asked, nodding towards the other couples, who had transitioned to a stately waltz.

In response, Clay caught his arm and took the lead, placing a firm hand on his waist and gently guiding them into the first steps of the dance. They were the epitome of grace, well-matched in skill and dexterity as they flowed through the figures of the waltz. He started to notice a few people staring, growing aware that compared to most of the other attendees this level of expertise was unusual. He decided he didn’t mind the eyes on him as much as he usually did.

With the relaxed pace of the slower song, he was free to fully take in the man in front of him. He was a couple inches shorter than Clay himself and had a shock of dark hair that stuck up in all directions, his skin a few shades shy of olive. The hand clasped in his was callused around the fingers but not the palms, so he probably wasn’t a manual laborer, but he was still well-muscled. His costume was simple but the fabric was a far cry from the coarse cotton of many people here.

Clay estimated he was somewhere in the upper middle class, but he had no idea who was standing in front of him. He felt sure he would’ve remembered those impish eyes if he’d seen them before.

He wondered how he himself looked. He knew his height and fitness weren’t anything to scoff at, and compliments on his appearance were common, but what impression did he make without his famous face? He felt mysterious and intriguing, and certainly something about him had attracted this man’s attention. It felt good, knowing that he was interesting enough to seek out even without his title. He was sure his joy must be showing on his face, and he wished he didn’t need to hide it.

“So,” his partner began, interrupting his thoughts, “do you speak, masked man? I would love to know the voice that matches such exquisite dance skills.”

Clay cleared his throat, pitching his voice a few tones higher than usual. “My ability is no greater than yours,” he said appreciatively.

The bright eye-smile was back. “It’s rare I find such a well-trained dance partner, good sir. Do you have something I can call you?”

“Dream,” he answered warmly. “And what can I call you?”

“Sapnap,” he replied. “And what are you seeking tonight?”

He thought for a moment. He obviously couldn’t say he was escaping royal responsibilities. “An unbiased eye,” he admitted after a brief hesitation. “Why are you here?”

“Why, to dance!” Sapnap laughed. “It’s a Ball, after all. You’re the best partner I’ve seen since the Blood God, and I’ve been coming every month for ten years.”

“Who’s the Blood God? Are they a regular attendee?” he questioned, interest piqued. The name itself evoked fear and awe, but a certain majesty tempered it. And they were apparently a dancer as well.

“He comes most times. He’s here tonight, actually. He keeps to himself, but I finally convinced him to favor me with a dance a few months ago. He’s a very strong performer. He’s dressed in a red cloak and a pig mask, if you’d like to find him later.” He glanced over Clay’s shoulder and his eyes widened. “Or you can meet him now. He’s coming this way.” His expression switched into something more nervous. “To be quite frank, he intimidates me. Act cool.”

Clay laughed lightly and finished the waltz, bowing to Sapnap one more time before turning around to meet the Blood God. His jaw dropped as he saw who was pushing his way through the crowd, suddenly very glad indeed that his face was covered.

[all1e23]

Astrophile [Pt.15]

Chapter: Eclipse 

Summary: Art shows, miscommunications and kisses.

Warnings:  BACK TO THE FLUFF!!!!! Still a little sad at the start just as a heads up.

A/N:   Don’t get too excited by the summary It’s not the kind of kissing you’re thinking. Two chapters to go! 

***My fics are not to be saved or posted on any other sites without my written permission. Reblogs are welcomed! Thanks!**

There was a clumsy, inelegance to the tightness floating in the afternoon air now that they were alone without a five-year-old bumper to spare them from humiliation. Strangers on the subway have looked more comfortable than they do at this moment. The side glances, nervous fidgeting, and tension turned Bucky’s smile into a deep pout. A bystander catching sight of this floundering rendezvous would be unable to watch for long, they would find themselves turning their head to hide from second-hand embarrassment. 

He couldn’t blame them if they did. This isn’t how he saw this reunion going. 

Bucky’s not sure what it’s going to take to fix this disaster, and if he had any sense at all, he would move on and pretend none of this ever happened. They could simply chalk it up to a missed connection and let it be one of those what could have been moments. He could go back to the way things were before if he really had to. He could find plenty of things to fill his days, but when it’s late at night and stillness envelopes him, he doesn’t know how to think of anything but her. 

Because that’s just it, he doesn’t want to go back to a time before her. 

He honestly has no idea what the hell he’s doing when it comes to loving her. Bucky has never felt this confused or this unsure of himself. The only time he’s ever come close to being this lost over a pretty girl, he was a young boy and didn’t understand the difference between lust and love. This is nothing like that, she’s not some pretty girl he has a crush on and he’s terrified he’s going to wreck this to the point it’s unfixable, but he has to do something, anything because he can’t take the strain between them a second longer.

“I haven’t seen you in a while,” Bucky ponders aloud, breaking the silence and tension for a few fleeting seconds. 

Y/n nods, feeling guilt swimming up to her throat at the palpable nervousness in his voice. Her words crack and splinter from the weight of her own nerves, “I-I’ve been busy. I’m sorry I haven’t had time for another movie night. Ori said you guys watched a good one though?”

Bucky nods, over and over because he has to convince himself as much as he does her and tucks his hands in his front pockets rocking back on his heels. “Yeah, yeah we did. We watched Mary Poppins Returns. She really liked it.” 

“What about you? Did you like it?” 

He winces internally. This is so awkward. They have been reduced to idle chit chat? The same terrible small talk he has to make with parents he doesn’t want to be around? They’ve always fit together. Perfectly, really. But this? This is painful and unfamiliar. She’s acting as if she can’t be herself around him– that stings. It’s as if he’s some random person she barely knows and not the owner of the heart she’s still holding. 

Bucky hates it. 

“Yeah, uh, it was good, but I would have liked it a lot more if you were there,” The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them and he wants to smack his head against the wall – that’s so stupid. He can’t make an awkward situation any more embarrassing if he tried. He takes a gamble and gazes at her, but she doesn’t look upset or uncomfortable like he expects. 

She’s wearing the smile that restarts his heart time and time again, but her eyes glisten with something he can’t place, and she’s shifting her attention away from him before he can ask her. They stand in a stony silence as parents pass by Ori’s table and watch as she presents her fireworks in a jar to each group. Ori explains all the different colors she used and points out the directions on the poster board Bucky helped her put together.

The whole presentation takes roughly five minutes, and Ori looks at Y/n and Bucky as soon as she finishes, she beams brightly as a few of the parents mumble something about points for creativity. Bucky sneaks a peek over at Y/n, and she’s grinning as wide as can be and giving Ori a wink, mouthing what a great job Ori had and how proud she was of her. 

So it is him. 

He’s the reason. He did something– or he said something, either way, this is all on him. 

“Are you mad at me or somethin’? Because I don’t know, Y/n. Things have been… off.“

Bucky knows this isn’t the place to have this conversation. The last thing he wants to do is to talk about this in front of a little boy and penguin diorama. Especially since the kid seems far too interested in what Bucky is saying. After tonight, he’s not sure when he will see her again.

It had to be now. 

Y/n jerks around to look at Bucky, shrieking louder than she should for a pre-k through first grade art show, “What? No! I just –-I don’t want to get in your way or anything. If you’re bringing another woman home or trying to date someone, I don’t want them to think you, and I are a couple. I don’t want to cause problems for any of your relationships.” 

Bucky can feel his chest tighten with each word, and he has to look away because it hurts far too badly. He can’t bear to look at her while his heart is splitting in his chest. His eyes fall back on the kid with the candy stained glass in the far corner, who is moving his hands frantically in the air as he explains his project. The distraction only lasts a moment. Man, was he dense thinking she could ever see him as something more than whatever the hell they are right now.

“Right,” Bucky ultimately bites out. “Because all we could ever be is just friends.” 

Y/n swallows the lump in her throat and stammers in a shaky whisper, “O-of course. Just friends.” 

Bucky is really starting to dislike the phrase just friends. 

As it turns out, all the kids are winners. So maybe Bucky was wrong for telling Ori’s teacher that it seemed a little messed up to have parents go around and vote on five-year olds' artwork. He admits now that he should have read the flyer more closely. The announcement comes just in time to save Bucky from another moment of heartbreak and humiliation – he is running out of time, fast. Even though everyone got the same dark blue participation ribbon, Ori did win an extra award, and he’s telling everyone he knows his kid got first place in at the art fair. If only one of them could get what they wanted tonight, he would rather it be Ori. 

How could he not with that adorable excited grin squishing her chubby cheeks?

“Daddy! Y/n! Come take a picture with me! Please! Please!

“Of course, starlight.” 

“Anything for you comet.”

No matter what is going on between them, they would do anything for Ori, and that includes standing together for a potentially painfully awkward photograph to make her happy. Bucky’s hand falls to Y/n’s lower back unthinkingly, as they push through the group Bucky keeps closeby knowing her distaste for large, suffocating crowds and she revels in his warmth until they reach Ori’s table and they are forced to part to take their places behind Ori. 

Y/n chews her bottom lip and chances a glimpse at Bucky who is already watching her. The soft smile he gives her makes her heart flutter and provides her with a bit of courage. She shuffles closer to him to slide her hand down his arm and intertwines their fingers together. She knows Bucky hasn’t looked away from her, but she can’t look back right now – the cut still stings. He clears his throat and looks back at the woman holding the camera, gives her a curt nod.  Bucky isn’t sure this means anything at all, but if it’s hope?

Bucky will take all the hope he can get. 

“Is this everybody?” The photographer asks from behind her camera, and Ori replies with a wide grin, “Yep! This is my family!”

Y/n’s hand tightens around Bucky’s, and he doesn’t miss the hitch in her breath or the tears welling in her eyes. He gives her hand a squeeze and gently urges her closer– reassurance. Because, yes, she’s their family, and nothing could change that now. A few flashes, a giggling squeal later and it’s done. No one can take it back. And, yeah it’s only for an elementary school yearbook, he doesn’t care. She’s inked onto the image right next to Bucky and Ori forever. 

She’s part of their family always. 

“Y/n, can we talk for a second…” 

“Mr.Barnes,” Ori’s teacher interrupts, giving him a gentle tap on the shoulder. “Could I talk to you for a second?” 

Y/n’s hand is out of his so fast it made his head spin. The look on Mr. Banner’s face makes him feel like he’s in tenth grade and got caught flirting in class. By someone’s good fortune (certainly not Bucky’s) he doesn’t ask Bucky about her, just focuses on Ori. Bucky wants to pay attention, something about special assignments and jumping a grade level, going right into first grade instead of kindergarten but he’s finding it hard to concentrate. He shoots a gander over to the girls and sees Y/n kissing Ori’s cheeks and gushing over both her ribbons. He grins and turns back to find a less than impressed expression on Mr. Banner’s face. 

“Sorry,” Bucky clears his throat, giving him an apologetic smile, “Jumping a grade level, you said?” 

Ten minutes, three pamphlets, and the promise to read a very lengthy email, Bucky is finally free. He just has to find where two very important girls went… His heart sinks when he sees Ori sitting on the chair next to her table right next to him, talking to one of her teachers. No Y/n anywhere to be found

 “Where did Y/n go?” Bucky asks once they are alone and drops down to her level. 

“She gave me kisses and had to leave daddy. Can we go see Uncle Stevie now? I want to show him my ribbons!” 

Guess hope was a stretch. 

Bucky pushes the blow to his heart as far down as he can get it and nods, “Yeah, we can go comet. Do we have to pack any of this up?”

“Mr. Banner says it has to stay in class for more pictures. Are you going to go see Y/n?” Ori asks casually and hops off her chair holding her ribbons in her right hand and taking her dad’s with her free hand. She’s not embarrassed to hold his hand, and Bucky prays it stays like that for a few more years. 

Bucky’s brows pinch together at the thought, and he looks down at Ori, “What? Why would I go see her? She was just here.”

“Yeah, but you love Y/n,” Ori shrugs and looks up at him. “When you love someone you wanna see them all the time, like how Uncle Stevie always wants to be with Uncle Sammy.” 

It’s official, his daughter is smarter than him. 

Bucky doesn’t linger at Steve’s. He’s had enough for one night, and he didn’t think he could take all the questions once they find out that Ori invited Y/n. He can hear it all now – What did you say? Did you tell her you like her? Ask her out! Sure, asking her out in the middle of a school event would be a good idea. It wouldn’t be embarrassing to get turned down in front of a bunch of kids or anything.  

He’s going to take a pass on that level of humiliation. Instead, he’s going to sit at home, have a few beers and maybe go to bed early. He can do whatever he wants. No kid for the night and clearly no girlfriend. Bucky tosses his keys on the counter and walks around to the fridge, stuffing the leftover lemon pancakes behind the jug of milk. They don’t need to look so smug, y’know? No one likes smug pancakes. 

The sound of the fridge door snapping shut in the emptiness of the bottom floor of his brownstone has his stomach lurching. Bucky sighs and sets his unopened beer on the counter. Okay, so sitting at home all alone is a bad idea. He can always call Natasha and Clint because being the third wheel is always a blast. His eyes land on his copy of The Martian and it glares back at him. Bucky slowly reaches out and flips the cover open where he keeps a bright pink sticky note. Bucky’s finger traces over her words from all those months ago.

Love at first sight is a hoax. 

 “Screw this,” Bucky grumbles to the empty house and snatches his keys off the counter. He has someone he needs to see.

------

The soft melancholy melody playing from her phone and the gentle pitter-patter of the rain outside did nothing to help the mood Y/n finds herself in this evening. When she got home from the art show she attempted to eat something but nothing could entice her stomach’s interest, whatever dumb movie was playing on Showtime couldn’t keep her attention for more than a moment, her bed felt too big and too cold and not one star could be seen from her bedroom window. She finally gives up around closer to eleven and wanders down into the store. 

There’s a new shipment of books she can put away; if she isn’t going to sleep, she can at least give herself a headstart for the following day. Surely, tomorrow will be better than the utter disaster today has been. The pressure surrounding her and Bucky did nothing to ease the burning in her chest. It didn’t help that she ran the first moment she could and didn’t bother with goodbye. There isn’t much more he can say anyway– at least not while he is taken. 

She wasn’t going to be that girl, regardless of how much she wants to be his girl. 

A sudden heavy pounding at the shop’s front door puts a halt to Y/n’s progress. She drops the books in her hands on the counter with a loud thwap and tries to calm the rapid thumping against her ribs. There’s a shadowy figure standing behind the darkened glass of the front door, but between the fallen twilight and the rain she can’t make out who it is. She reaches for her phone, and without thinking, her trembling fingers take her to the only person she truly trusts. 

“Beck! Open up. You in there?” 

Her thumb hovers over Bucky’s number when his voice rings through the front door. What the heck? She slowly sets her phone down, letting the music resume as she tentatively makes her way to the front door. The closer Y/n gets, the more she recognizes that dark brown mop of hair and her heart would know his voice among a thousand others. 

“Bucky! What are you doing?” She asks, her voice panicked and uncertain. 

The door comes flying open from the force of her worry. The only reason she could come up with for Bucky being here like this was Ori. Something terrible had to have happened after she left. She seals the door behind him and attempts to help him out of his wet jacket. 

“Where is Ori? Is she okay?”

The blatant concern in her eyes for his daughter makes him smile despite the disquiet clogging up his heart. Y/n always thinks about Ori first. Bucky likes that– No, he loves that.

“She’s fine,” Bucky assures her, dropping his jacket on the coat rack by the door. “She’s at Steve’s showing off her ribbons the last time I saw her. I just had to see you.” 

The admission leaves her confused (as if she isn’t confused enough lately) and more importantly, it knocks the breath right out of her lungs, “Oh, and you came over here in the pouring rain at eleven at night because you had to see me?” 

“Yeah,” Bucky huffs a small laugh hoping the night blanketing the store will hide the stain on his cheeks. He nods towards the desk holding several stacks of books.  “I guess I did. I didn’t think you would be working this late but do you need help?” 

“Oh, um sure. I guess I could use the help.”  

Y/n walks back towards the computer and slowly sits on the stool behind the counter, leaving them separated by two feet of oak. Bucky hands her books, and she scans them before passing them back, it’s easy and comfortable until she finds herself blurting, “You didn’t want to spend the night with your girlfriend with Ori being out of the house and all?” 

She winces at the sour note of jealousy in her voice and quickly turns around to grab the stack of books behind her, using it as a chance to avoid what she’s sure is a look of pity or possibly annoyance. 

“Girlfriend?” Bucky pauses until she spins back around because he is not going to say this until she’s looking at him. She needs to know he’s isn’t feeding her some bullshit line when he tells her there’s no girlfriend. He has to make her understand, outside of Ori, no one in his life comes close to her.  

“I don’t have a girlfriend. I haven’t had a girlfriend in an… embarrassingly long time. A few maybes but no girlfriends.” 

“But… I thought…” Y/n’s mind floats back to that day standing right where they are, and Ori’s little voice fills her head, he’s good at loving me, but I don’t think he knows what to say when he loves someone else.

Bucky abandons the books in his hand and leans forward on his elbows to close the space between them, “ Is that why you cancelled our d– night? You thought I was dating someone and still asked you to come over to have dinner with me?” 

She shrugs, realizing how stupid it sounds when he puts it like that. Bucky would never invite another woman to his house for dinner and a movie if he were in a serious relationship with someone, and she knows that. Y/n leans on her elbows mirroring the man across from her, “I guess that should have been my first clue, but I panicked. It didn’t feel right to have a movie night alone if you were dating someone.” 

He extends his arms and covers her hands with his, meeting her eyes before he spoke, “I’m not dating anyone, Y/n. There is no one in my life. You’re the only woman I want to spend my nights with.” 

Y/n raises her brow, smirking at his unintentional innuendo. Bucky’s cheeks pink once his words register, and he quickly tries to fix the badly chosen words, “I didn’t– I don’t mean spend my nights with. I do want to spend my nights with you, but I didn’t mean it that way. Not that I’m saying if we were together or wanted to be together that I wouldn’t want to –” He blows out a breath and chuckles at his own expense, “Can we please forget what I said?”

She giggles, “I know what you meant, Bucky. It was fun to watch you fumble for that recovery though.” 

“Gee, thanks,” Bucky deadpans. 

A comfortable silence works its way throughout the room, and it’s nothing like this afternoon. It’s peaceful and right and everything she loves about being with Bucky. He lights up her heart in a way no one else has, and she’s sure she won’t find anyone else who comes close. 

“There’s really no one else?” He can hear the vulnerability through the uneasy sway in her voice, and he never wants to make her feel this way ever again. 

Bucky’s hands squeeze over hers, and he lets his thumb graze over the back of her hand, the sincerity in his voice harmonizing with the hold he has on her hand,  “No. There’s just you, Beck.” 

Y/n response is just a simple grin. It’s all she can do. She grins, and Bucky grins right back. Tony was right, she thinks. That’s going to be fun to admit to his face. Speaking of Tony. She wonders… “I’m not sure if you heard but,” She takes a deep breath and says, “Tony is getting married.”

Bucky’s brows shoot up, and she chuckles. Pretty much her reaction.

“Really? Tony Stark is getting married?” She hums in response, ignoring the glow of jealousy in his eyes and the way his grip clenched around her hand. Honestly, how he can be jealous of Tony right now, she can’t understand.

“Next July. Do you… want to be my plus one?” 

Bucky’s thumb stalls and his hand tightens involuntarily this time, “You’re asking me to go with you a year from now? What if you have… someone else you want to go with? You could meet anyone before next year.” 

“I won’t,” Y/n promises.  

Hope came back in the nick of time. 

“Okay, Y/n. I’ll go with you,” He swears. 

“Oh!” Y/n squeals. “I got you something!”

 Bucky grins as he watches her do that little run hop she does when she’s excited about something. He stretches his fingers to push out the cold that swarmed him the moment he lost her touch. The light flicks on in her office, and he regards her as she grabs something relatively small– tiny enough she can conceal it in her fist, but something else quickly catches his eye on the far side of her office. 

Oh, hell, Bucky thinks. 

“Hey! How the hell did you get the calendar?” She grins at the whine in his voice, “ And why is it on that wall? Everyone who comes into the store can see it!” 

“I have an in with the princess. Her highness saw my name signed on the bottom and thought I must have forgotten it.” Bucky groans making her giggle as she walks back over to her place across from him, “Get over it. It’s not going anywhere, December.” 

Y/n hesitantly opens her clenched fist to show him two black bracelets with a little silver star in the middle. 

“They are pinky promise bracelets. You put it on and make a wish. When it falls off, that means your wish is about to come true. I know it’s kind of silly, and you don’t have to wear it, but it made me think of you and us…”

Bucky holds his arm out for her and smiles. Zero hesitation. He would wear a silly bracelet if she asks him to, but he doesn’t think it’s all that silly. She delicately wraps the bracelet around his wrist, and he grabs the matching one from her palm, wrapping it around her wrist. This time he’s the one weaving their fingers together, five minutes without her warmth was long enough. The only sounds echoing in the sugar-filled atmosphere was slowing raindrops hitting the windows and soft buzz of the song playing through her phone.

“Okay, so we close our eyes and w-we wish,” Y/n breathes over the soft undertones of the music. 

Their eyes fall shut in unison. He takes a chance and opens one eye to get a peek at Y/n; her head is tilted to the side, and her nose is crinkled as she makes her wish. He grins and closes his eyes. He doesn’t need a lot of time to make his wish, he’s been making the same wish every night for the last month. 

“Done?”

Bucky opens his eyes to find her watching him, he nods, but his eyes were centered on her pretty lips, as much as he wants to kiss her this isn’t the time. It’s a big step, a huge leap to take and it will change everything. Ori’s life will never be the same, and neither will theirs. He needs to be one hundred percent sure this will work before he does something else they can’t take back. 

“So I have to wait for my wish to come true?” 

Y/n responds with a small shrug leaving her hands resting comfortably in his hold, “That’s what it says, but I suppose it would depend on what you wished for. What was your wish?” 

Bucky shakes his head casually and slow grin tugs at his lips, “Now, sweetheart, I can’t go tellin’ you my wish. It won’t come true.” She laughs and leans in towards the middle of the counter, so their noses were nearly touching. All he has to do is tilt his head an inch, and he would finally find out just how soft her lips are.

“I really did miss you,” Y/n admits into the calm, letting the confession hang in the air with the rest of her secrets. Her fingers slip between his wrist and the soft strand of the bracelet where she can feel each gentle thump of his heart. 

“You’ve got no idea how much I missed you, sweetheart,”  Buck swore, sure and sincere. He’s never missed anything or anyone as much as missed her these past five days.  

“You pinky promised,” she quickly reminded him of that predestined night shared on a balcony and front steps twenty miles apart.  The stars saw that moment, saw them in this very moment long ago – they’ve always been destined to end up right here.

“I did, and I’m sorry. I should have come over the day you text me. I knew something wasn’t right, but I didn’t want to overstep. There are a lot of things I shouldn’t have let go unsaid,” Bucky tells her, slight regret filling his words but she can see a newfound determination in his eyes.

He’s not the only one at fault for the position they are in. Y/n could have pushed jealousy and hurt aside and simply asked him. All she had to do was ask if he was seeing anyone and tell him about her talk with Ori. He may have even laughed at that.  Ori’s voice is playing over and over in her head,  I hope so. We can’t wait forever, right?” 

 Wait, did Ori mean she���s the… No, no that’s not what either of them meant. Or maybe, just maybe the stars are on her side tonight

“If you’re guilty then so am I,” Y/n admits with a smile. “We don’t want to wait forever, now do we?” 

He tilts his head to the side and is smiling through the confusion etched onto his beautiful face, “No, I guess we don’t want to wait forever.”

Bucky stares at her for a second, turning over a thousand different scenarios in his head. There are a lot of ways this night could go, and not all are good, but the way she’s looking at him? Smiling ear to ear, that cheek-hurting happiness written on her face sends his heart spinning into a helpless surrender; one he’s more than willing to give to her and her alone.

“Whaddya say we skip inventory and I take you to dinner. It sounds like it stopped rainin’,” Bucky can see the momentary flash hesitation in her eyes and the glance down at her worn overalls and plain white shirt. He’s not sure what the pout is for because she looks beautiful no matter what she’s wearing. Bucky gives a gentle tug to her bracelet and smiles when she looks up, “You don’t need to get all dolled up to have dinner with me. I like you, remember? Old books pages and all.”

As if she could tell him no after that – not that she wants to tell him no ever. “Okay, but I get to pick where we go.” 

Bucky would give her whatever she wants if she only let him.

“Whatever you want, babydoll.”

Not once does he let go of her hand as she walks around the counter, he switches hands as he helps her into her jacket and he is reaching for her the moment the storefront door is locked – there is a lot he should have said and a lot he should have done, he was right about that, and he’s not letting another chance slip away. 

“I like that,” She mumbles tucking herself into his side as they walk down the rain-soaked street. 

“Like what?”

A soft sigh and a sweet confession, “I like when you call me babydoll.” 

Bucky doesn’t promise to call her that more or tease her like he usually would. He doesn’t repeat it just to watch her get flustered – despite how much she wants to see that. There’s no cheap one-liner that would do that justice. If she’s important enough to consume all his wishes than she’s worth way more than some shoddy line. He presses a kiss to her temple, letting his lips linger longer than a friend should and wraps his arm around her whispering back, “I like it too.” 

Because boy does he.

Previous // Next

[whatcouldgowrong-ohthat]

Earth 5620 - Chapter 1

Summary: When fractures start appearing across the world, S.W.O.R.D. and S.H.I.E.L.D. work together to create a team of...specialists. It’ll take them coming together to stop two dimensions from colliding.

Word Count: 2604 words

Warnings: Um, none that I can think of?

Marvel Kiddos

A/N: I haven’t written anything on here in a WHILE. So I hope you like it. :)

--

January 15th. Seattle. Washington

Covert. That was what they were supposed to be in this moment. Calm, cool, collected. Gathering information because this was a clusterfuck. They were waiting for higher-ups. That was their orders. Still, when she got the call, this wasn’t what she had expected.

A split between dimensions.

Cracked – but who swung the hammer? Who manipulated the reality?

Boots scuffed against concrete as she reached for it. The best way to learn was to discover. That was what she always believed and now seemed just as good a time as any to practice that idea.

“Director Carter.”

Sharon sighed. Her hand dropped to her side as she turned to see who S.W.O.R.D. had sent to help. “It’s not exactly comforting when they send in their best, Captain Rambeau.”

Monica smirked. She loved being sent in. Desk work did her no good and she figured the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. was the same way. “What is it?” She gestured to the crack. No, Fracture. Definitely a Fracture. It was too big. Too noticeable to be anything else.

“Was hoping you could tell me. This area is more your specialty, don’t you think?”

Her smirk grew into a smile as Sharon gave her a knowing look. It was true. S.H.I.E.L.D. specialized in super soldiers, arrogant billionaires, and things like vibranium. Mutants too, but that was because of Sharon’s aunt. There was a special interest there for them.

S.W.O.R.D. handled the weird and freaky. Things that had no real explanation. Infinity Stones…Alternate Realitiess? Or Aliens? Powers that were more than genetics and Masters of the Mystic Arts? That was Monica’s area.

There was a mutual respect between the two. One neither woman would ever dare to overstep even if their specialties chose to intertwine.

She turned her attention back to the Fracture, circling it. However, as she reached its side, the crack vanished. “It’s two dimensional.” She glanced at Sharon who mirrored her movements.

Sure enough. It was like looking through a window.

“I’ll get my men to do some readings.” Monica was already heading back to the vehicles, knowing her men were waiting on an update. “Let’s see if there’s anything on the other side.”

Surprisingly quiet, Sharon couldn’t take her eyes off the anomaly. As interesting as “another side” sounded, she had to wonder –

Was this the only occurrence?

March 19th New Orleans. Louisiana

“We need to stop meeting like this.”

Monica’s gaze shifted from the Fracture to her newest guests. “Director Carter.” She didn’t move from her spot on the ground. The reactor in her hand was still struggling to get a reading. The last thing she needed was to mess that up. “This is only the second, remember?”

“Yeah, but I’m worried about the lack of information.”

Monica sighed. Passing off the reactor to a S.W.O.R.D. operative, she rose to her feet and walked around the Fracture. It was at least twenty feet long – more than twice the size of the one in Seattle. And she wasn’t the only one to notice. She joined Sharon’s side and only just noticed the worry on Sharon’s face. It was etched so deep in her features, as strong and unwavering as diamond. Monica understood her fear. Truly.

Things had grown considerably calmer since Thanos was destroyed. This sparked problems and no one had a clue how big they were. The questions were surpassing their answers and it was enough to make both women feel ill.

“Let my specialists work, okay? If a third pops up, we’ll talk about a POA. But right now, it could be a coincidence. We got a lot of them in this line of work.” With a gentle nudge and a friendly smile, Monica reminded her, “You know that.”

“The last time we believed something was a coincidence, we had to learn the hard way that Hydra and Weapon X were one and the same.”

Monica winced. “Okay. Bad choice of words.” Looking back, she knew they should worry. At least a little. But she didn’t want to react yet. Sharon was always ready for a fight. And while Monica was too, there had been a fair amount of peace that she wasn’t ready to let go of.

Not yet.

May 7th. Boston. Massachusetts

Darcy couldn’t take her eyes off of it. It looked as if glass was breaking. In the middle of the air. It sounded ridiculous, she knew that, but it was an accurate description. This was something she would expect from an Asgardian visit. Instead – it was hovering in the middle of the Boston Public Garden. Appearing out of nowhere.

She’d guess it was at least a mile long and half a mile wide. It was huge.

“That looks weird.”

“You could say that again.” Darcy kept up her trek across the ridiculously huge park. She looked ahead and found the guy that had spoken. He wasn’t paying attention to anyone that had run away or the officers that were attempting to evacuate the park. He was completely wrapped up in the same thing she had been staring at. She joined his side. “Doctor Darcy Lewis – astrophysicist.”

He hadn’t realized she had spoken to him until she cleared her throat. Pulled from his thoughts, he glanced down at her and nodded. “Will.”

“You’re not scared of it?” Darcy raised a brow. Did he have a death wish?

Will chuckled. He propped his glasses on top of his head and gave her his full attention. His eyes – a splattering of rainbows and crystals – were almost impossible to look at. “I’m really good with weird.”

Behind them, just entering the park, Monica and Sharon slowed their run. It seemed their realization was mutual. This wasn’t just a couple cracks, or Fractures as Monica called them, this was something big. Very big.

Unable to tear her eyes away, Monica asked Sharon, “So you remember that POA I mentioned?”

She nodded. “I got a couple ideas. A few phone calls we can make.”

May 12th. Afghanistan. South Asia

He should be lifting spirits right now, being a leader.That was all that was on his mind. Hope was key – especially with the men and women. Their chance to go home had been prolonged for another five months. Five months with no contact for his soldiers. No way of reaching their families.

It was so much to ask of them. And instead of trying to give them hope, he was here. Why? He spared a glance across the room, recognizing the other guy. He was lower rank, but a specialist. His name – Benjamin couldn’t bring himself to remember it.

“You’re Master Sergeant Rogers, right?”

Benjamin couldn’t hide his surprise. There was no way. But as surprised as he was, he was also impressed. “Yeah. And you shouldn’t be talking.”

The specialist chuckled, shoulders shaking. “Our parents fought together.”

“How did you know? No one else – “

“Everyone knows. We just don’t say it.”

Benjamin huffed, nostrils flaring. He looked away only for a moment before remembering, “You’re Clint’s and Nat’s kid. Jensen, right?” He nodded and Ben shifted in his seat. “I’m sorry. About her – your mom, I mean.”

Jensen scoffed. “Look, we don’t have to get into that. I was just pointing out that we’re Superkids. That’s probably why we’re here.”

An awkward silence fell between them. Jensen, who had no interest in acknowledging the tension, simply stayed put. But Ben found himself counting the seconds, the minutes.

It took ten of them. Ten minutes of uncomfortable tension before the door finally opened.

The two stood, backs tense and hands poised, ready to salute whoever walked through those doors.

They hadn’t expected to see James Woo, FBI agent and overall awkward individual. He nodded, offering a curt smile as he said, “Hi.”

Ben and Jensen shared a look, hands already mid salute when Jimmy shook his hands.

“Don’t do that. Seriously. I’m here with a friend and we…Well, we need your help.”

Furrowed brows and confusion hung in the air. It seemed a million questions silently morphed over their features before they saw Jimmy’s friend enter behind him.

Ben smiled, recognizing her from many a training session. “Captain Rambeau.”

“Master Sergeant Rogers.” She smiled. “It’s been a while.”

“Just a decade or so.”

The two shared a laugh, easing a bit of the tension in the room. And while that was great for them, it left one person still in the dark. Jensen shifted from one foot to the other, raising a hand as if he had to be called on. “Look, reunions are great and all, but can I bring up the elephant in the room? Why’re you here?” He pointed to himself and Ben. “And why’re we?”

Monica huffed. “About that…”

Queens. New York

Flying through the air, an excited laugh tumbled from her lips. She landed on the fire escape with ease and released the webbing. Sparing one quick glance, fingers curled around her window and she crawled inside.

It fell shut behind her. With a sharp exhale, the mask was tugged off and her massive curls freed. Lena checked her appearance for a quick moment. Flipping her hair and nudging it with her fingers, she was satisfied enough. Next came removing the Spidersuit, replacing it with comfy, pink joggers and keeping the sports bra.

She was home. Extra effort didn’t have to be made in her attire.

“Lena!”

She squeaked, jumping a foot in the air when she heard her father’s voice. Normally, it was Lena’s mom shouting for her to do the dishes or some other boring chore. Her dad didn’t yell. He didn’t like yelling. Grabbing her phone, she was quick to leave her room only to find herself particularly confused when she saw her dad wasn’t alone.

Well, at least the yelling made sense now.

“Dad?”

Peter looked up. That goofy smile of his, the one she had known all of her life, was staring right back at her. But it was different. Proud? Maybe that was the word? Not surprising. He was always proud of her. “Hey, how was school?”

“It was good.” Her eyes drifted back to the blonde. She was edgy in a weird sort of way. While Lena had grown up hearing how rough and tough her mom was, this woman was different. She redefined the meaning of the word. “Who’s this?”

“This is Sharon Carter. She’s the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D.”

“Hey, Miss Parker.” Sharon offered a smile. It was enough to melt the edges away. She softened, but Lena didn’t buy it. It was too much. As if Sharon was trying to relate to her.

“Yeah, cool. What’s this about? I have homework.”

Peter leaned against the counter. “Since when do you care about homework?”

Lena pouted. Okay, that was fair. But she found herself taking a quick step back when Sharon walked around the dining table.  It was weird. She should trust her. Her dad did. But their histories in the Superworld were different. And this wasn’t a face she recognized.

“Is this you?”

Lena’s gaze shifted from Sharon’s face to the clip on her phone. It was her in her Spidersuit, swinging in and out of those random cracks that had appeared in the MoMa in Queens and the Brooklyn Museum. According to the news, a couple more had popped up in New Jersey and California. She shrugged. “Um…yeah. No one had closed them off yet.”

Sharon’s face morphed into that of amusement. She zoomed out on the clip, showing the warnings and Agents that were securing the area or had just finished.

A blush tinted Lena’s cheeks as she looked from parent to agent and back again. “Am I in trouble?”

Sharon shook her head as Peter grinned from ear to ear. “Far from it actually. If it’s okay with you, I’d really appreciate your help.”

May 20th. S.W.O.R.D. Headquarters

Terrance’s fingers impatiently drummed on the steering wheel. He really didn’t like this idea. He didn’t trust it. “Look I know Dad wanted us to help out Sharon ‘cause she’s family, but we don’t know anything about these guys.”

“Sure we do.” Sasha’s small smile didn’t reach her eyes. She didn’t like it either. She definitely didn’t trust it. “We’ve known Sharon since Dad and Papa adopted us. And neither of them would send us anywhere they didn’t think was safe.”

Terrance parked the car, getting out as Sasha followed suit. “I’m just saying, there are a lot of other big-name heroes they could be calling. This isn’t our territory.”

“And I couldn’t agree more, but I did my research. S.W.O.R.D. helped take down Weapon X and Hydra. They played a big part in bringing our parents back. We can do this.” She looked at Terrance. “But I’m not going in if you aren’t.”

He looked at the massive building, having to crane his neck. It was huge. Gaudy. Too much for people who were supposed to be blending in to do good. “They just want our abilities, Sash.”

“Maybe. But what if they need us?”

His distaste shifted to a plain, old grimace that he had given his sister one too many times. “I hate when you do that.”

She laughed. “And I love it.”

The two stepped inside the building. It was too bright. Too clean. Neither of them liked it, but they had grown used to this being “normal” for these types of organizations. You must look good to do your job. At least that was what these groups shoved down their throats.

“Maggie!” Sasha immediately brightened at the sight of her old friend making her way towards them.

“Hey, guys.” Smile unwavering, Maggie tackled the two in a hug. It made Sasha soften, but Terrance was still tense. Some things never change. “Guessing it was Uncle Bucky that talked you into this?”

“More Dad actually,” Terrance told her.

Though surprised, Maggie appreciated that Sam had managed to do this. “Well, I’m just glad to see two familiar faces,” she admitted. “C’mon. I was just heading towards Monica’s office.”

--

The screaming could be heard far before they actually reached the door. Terrance grimaced, already looking at Sasha as if she owed him for getting him here. Who could have caused such a huge fight when they weren’t even there yet?

And hearing so many voices, he had to wonder – how many people had they asked for help?

“Um, I think we’re in here.” Maggie grabbed the door. With a sharp tug, she held it open for them and gave them a peak of the chaos inside.

Overlapping voices, overwhelmingly loud. A girl in a green Spidersuit hung from the ceiling with no intension of coming down. A blonde guy, super tall and screaming “Captain America” vibes was currently holding back a smaller, brunet.

That was the guy doing most of the shouting. And it wasn’t to everyone. No. It was to one guy. He was arrogant, smirking because he clearly held the power. He wasn’t shouting. He didn’t feel the need to. Instead, he shrugged and waved to the newest additions in the room.

One guy currently being shielded by two familiar faces. Monica and Sharon. They were desperately trying to calm down the screaming guy.

And then there was the last one – standing by the door. He looked over his shoulder, nodding to Terrance, Sasha, and Maggie. “Glad you could join us.”

Terrance shook his head, his elbow hitting Sasha’s rib. She hissed, rubbing her side as she muttered, “Ow.”

He gave her the look. That look that every sibling gave when they truly meant what they said next. “You owe me.”

--

Tag list is open? If you want? Lol

[iggy-of-fans]

Of Being a Ladybug 7

First   Master List   Previous 

The Cons of being Proactive

 Marinette walked into the fourth café for the day. This one was attached to the Wayne Enterprise building and had an exit into the building proper for employees. She saw many other teenagers within, paper coffee cups clutched for dear life with tablets and laptops out in front of them. She walked to the counter, “Good Morning. Is there a chance I could speak to the manager, please? I saw a help wanted sign on the front window and would like to leave my resume with him.”

“Oh, you seem familiar, have we met?” the barista asked kindly as she waved to a lady in her early 30’s.

“I’m afraid I just moved here from London.”

“Ah, allow me to handle this, Krista. I would be overlooking her resume before hiring her anyway” a gentleman behind her said. He was a handsome chocolate skinned man, with kind brown eyes and was dressed in an expensive looking suit. He smiled with his whole face, his eyes twinkling as though he was part of some inside joke. “Follow me, Miss….”

“Maria, sir. Maria Fu” Marinette held out her hand. His smile softened even more and shook her hand. He gestured with his other hand and led her to an unused table. Once seated, she offered her resume, only her schooling and “family bakery experience” able to be used, as she couldn’t offer up her past volunteer experience, nor could she offer references.

“Hm. Normally I would not allow you to work here without proper references, even from your teachers. However, I also happen to be close to the owner of the company, and know that he just yesterday took in a new ward…” he trailed off, looking at her over the top of the paper. Marinette smoothed her face.

“Why, may I ask, is the newest ward of a multi-billionaire trying to find work? Especially with the…special circumstances of night shifts” the man asked.

“I will be aging out of the system sooner or later. I want to make sure I am capable of at least making it through life on my own, before the inevitable happens” Marinette stated, though she was looking at her battle hardened and sewing scarred hands.

“Very well, you start this afternoon, at 3pm. I assume you will be done with school by then?”

“As far as I am aware, I will remain homeschooled. I am close to finishing my High School diploma either way, and there is no need for me to be placed into a classroom setting at this point. Thank you for your faith in me, Mr…”

“Fox. Lucius Fox. Krista will expect you at 3 PM for your orientation” he stood and held out his hand. She shook his hand, smiled and left. Step one of her plan, complete.

She walked a few blocks to the Gotham Library before taking out her Wayne phone and calling Alfred with another 15 minutes to spare. He arrived and they drove quietly back to the manor. Once there she changed into her training outfit before following Alfred to the cave entrance.

< ( >< ) >

Alfred’s POV

After Marinette left to catch a cab to town, siting going to the library, Alfred went to the cave to track her. Sipping his tea, he sat at the computer and frowned when Marinette actually did get off at the library. Hm. He became more suspicious though when after 3 hours of no movement, she called to pick her up. He frowned. He left to pick her up and frowned more when her tracker finally moved again. Where had she gone? What was she doing? Perhaps tracking the traffic cams? He was pulling into the city proper when a call from Lucius Fox came through.

“Mr. Fox. What can I do for you today?” Alfred asked, pulling over to the side, a block away from the library.

“Would you care to explain to me why the newest Wayne ward was just here, applying for a job as a barista?” Lucius asked, voice soft.

“Is that where she went? Hm. I told Master Bruce she was not like his other children. Thank you for letting me know, I will do my best to have her settle in better.”

“My only tip is to not have her attend school formally. She seems extremely tense about it” Lucius suggested, before hanging up. Hm.

< ( ^ ^ ) >

Bruce POV

Bruce awoke at 9 AM to a tray of breakfast and coffee at his side table. He ate light before heading to the cave to await his newest ward. He saw a tracker open on the screen and Alfred’s discarded tea cup. Seems like his new daughter went out for a while. Figuring he’d talk to Alfred after training, he turned off the screen and started stretching. Diana had filled him in that, while Maria was naturally flexible, she would need help to become more comfortable in the daily movements that may be required of her. He considered ballet. Mari---a, also took to martial arts in a defensive only way. Not good. He needed someone not scared to throw a punch so as to get himself out of the range of fire. Her weapons aim was impeccable though. She could shoot an arrow, a gun, wield a sword and a bo-staff. He nodded. Time to teach her aggression. When Alfred and Maria arrived, he stood and looked her over. Short cut black hair, simple black training leotard, wary blue eyes. She kept herself in a small pose, one arm held over the other, hanging loosely by her side, head slightly bowed to seem non-threatening. Not ideal for a Robin.

“Welcome to Gotham, and to my home, Maria. I hope that you had a restful first night?” he asked, turning away to gather some materials.

“Thank you.”

Not a talker. Quiet, shy. Diana mentioned she suffered inadequacy issues. What to do, what to do. Best to go for the kill, and then back track once he had a better sense of her personality.

“Diana mentioned that your training was progressing well, but that you had some issues with aggression and flexibility. The latter is something that can only be fixed in the long term, but the first… well, for someone who’s had so much fighting experience, I had hoped you wouldn’t be scared to throw a punch” Bruce said, handing her a fresh set of hand wraps for grappling.

Marinette said nothing, head down as she expertly wrapped her hands. He sighed.

“We’re going to work on your offensive fighting for the next few days. I can’t have a Robin that’s too scared to attack” Bruce tried again. ‘Come on… get riled up. Get angry.’

Her head snapped up. ‘Yes!’

“Is the current Robin renaming himself?” ‘She speaks!’

“No. He is relocating and leading the Teen Titans for the time being. A Miraculous has taken up residence with Death Stroke in Jump City. He will be there indefinitely” Bruce said simply.

“So would it not be confusing and also demystifying if you have two Robins? Besides, I doubt he would be happy to share the moniker with me” ‘Is she worried to offend…?

“Demystifying?” he asked instead. This is good. Progress!

“That Batman and Robin are eternal and immortal and do not age or change…?”

He snorted. Really? Well… he did want to be a symbol…

“And what do you suggest instead?”

She hesitated again. Damn. He was about to open his mouth and suggest they wait until after the training session, but she looked up, “Knave.”

Knave… because he was the Dark Knight? He smirked.

“Very well. We will need measurements and a colour scheme. It will need to be eye catching” that might be harder than anticipated. Red was heavily over done, and Green wasn’t flashy enough… purple was taken…

“Pink” she was looking at the display cases, “I like pink.”

Pink… well, he could safely say they’d never used pink before. He nodded, making a gesture to Alfred to make it happen.

“Well, let’s begin. Today you learn to punch.”

<(**)>

Marinette’s POV

Four hours of training later, an exhausted, sweaty and starving Marinette dragged her sore and bruised body back to her room for a bath. What kind of torture was this? Groaning, she dropped onto her bed post bath and glared at the ceiling. She had to get to her orientation. Dammit. She peeled herself off the bed and got dressed in a pair of jeans and a white blouse. She’d grab a pastry at the café.

---- 8 hours later ---

Nope. Nope, today did not happen, she decided. She stood by Krista’s side as she locked up the front door.

“Do you have a ride coming to get you?” Krista asked. Gotham was far from safe at night.

“Uhm…” Marinette didn’t really think about it. Her orientation was only supposed to last an hour and a half, but two of the evening staff had called in sick, and Marinette had been baptized by fire when she had been forced to the till. She hadn’t had time to call Alfred or Bruce, and had no idea if they would even be available right now, considering the time. Crap.

“I was going to cab…” she finally settle on.

“No need for that. I will take her” Bruce friggen Wayne said from behind them, standing next to an expensive looking car.

“Oh, Mr. Wayne. No need for that, I don’t mind sharing a cab with her!” Krista smiled.

A small frown formed. He sighed and smiled, hailing a cab. He leaned down to speak to the cab driver quickly before walking around and opening the door for them.

“A safe trip home, both of you” Bruce said, raising an eyebrow at Marinette and giving her a ‘look’. Crap.

The cab dropped Krista off, refusing payment as Bruce had payed already, before driving to the Manor. A car that followed far too closely came to a stop beside the cab. Bruce stepped out and grabbed the door handle for Marinette. Crap.

He nodded to the cabby before placing a hand on Marinette’s shoulder and marching her into the manor.

“That was an immensely stupid thing for you to do, Maria.”

Tag List

@sidd-hit-my-butt-ham @kuroko26 @northernbluetongue @chez-pezeater @luciferge @vixen-uchiha @bluerosette23 @mochinek0 @krunchy-tuna @treebrosha @geekydragonyt @vivilakitty @sassy-spocko @bluefiredemon-blog @mindfulmagics @thornangelic727 @xxmadamjinxx @thepeacetea @whomthefyck @lamestplaceintheworld @miraculous-ninja @mikantsume @unabashedbookworm @kandi-pie @2sunchild2 @redsparrow12 @shamefullove @cadencehood @yin-390 @tazanna-blythe @bb-basbusa @zazzlejazzle @fanfictionaddict13 @royalchaoticfangirl @god-is-dead-and-so-am-i @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @imanerddealwith @tinybrie @angelisalise @graduatedmelon @trickstermiraculous @ayuchan07 @thatrandomfandomsgirl @sweatyruinsstudentbored @chloe-bourgeois-is-big-gay @captainmac6 @rag1000 @cupcakesandkisses @crazylittlemunchkin @vivian077

[phoebehalliwell]

so apparently my brain will not let me rest until I figure out the Prue/Roger dynamic, so: Prue's right out of college when she gets hired at the museum and she gets partnered with a senior curator, Roger. Roger flatters Prue first professionally, then personally, and when Prue is hesitant because he's married, he spins some line about how his marriage is over in everything but name. Prue, young and only having one real relationship before, falls for his charm and they start sneaking around 1/?

at the office. at some point Roger does divorce his wife, he and Prue are together publicly, and then he proposes. somewhere in there, he makes a move on Phoebe, who rejects him. Phoebe immediately goes to Prue, but Roger insists that she's lying, "Prue, don't you think I love you, I left my wife for you." Prue, habituated by years of this kind of emotional manipulation, chooses Roger over Phoebe. This pretty much destroys her relationship with her sister. Prue and Roger continue plans for the wedding until Grams dies, at which point Roger calls off the wedding because he didn't sign up to be anyone else's emotional support. Prue, spends her days angry at Roger, Grams, and Phoebe for abandoning her, and spends her nights secretly wondering if there was anything she could have done to keep any of them with her.   

hmm an inch resting yarn you have spun here but i’m gonna offer you another one: pure was popular in high school she was like really fuckin cool and she could very easily have been any man of her choosing. there was no settling for her, she was prue motherfuckin halliwell. so she went for what her heart always wanted and dated her childhood sweetheart andy trudeau. and like,, they were the It Couple in their heyday and it was definitely that passion head first our love will never die dramatic but also just kinda silly love. and that sorta sets the bar. then she’s off to college presumably at this point still trying to pursue a career in photography and she’s like having fun she hangs out with the artists and free spirits and people who were misfits in high school and draws them in with her undeniable queen bee energy but like. she knows her stuff. she doesn’t get by on looks and popularity, she’s really good at what she does. so now we bring in college boyfriend no. 1 who cupid name checked as alan, and we’ll say this really is a relationship of two artists and they’re both amazed by each other’s work and the soul and heart and spirit in it and in them it’s definitely the most pretentious of prue’s relationships but it’s like the kind where they “break into” the local art gallery after hours (alan works there and has a key, so it’s not like it took a lot of masterminding) and like slide around polished hardwood floors until they fall down laughing that type of vibe. but now we’re encroaching on prue’s blue period. for starters, piper’s get ready to y’know apply for college this that and the other and like grams is all concerned about how much college costs blah blah blah with paying for both prue and piper and the same time yada yada yada and prue sorta realizes how sorta tight the money situation is what with the cost of education and the house and this that and the other and she’s starting to realize that this photography career is Not the move bc like this house needs a breadwinner if they want to keep it blah blah blah so life already blows when she has to go pick up phoebe from a party which she’s not like happy about but like you know at least phoebe isn’t drunk driving maybe this is a chance for them to bond as sisters for prue to impart some wisdom on her chaotic younger sister but no of course not of course they have to get in a huge argument and prue doesn’t hit the breaks in time and the car gets totalled and phoebe lands in the hospital and like now prue’s sorta spiralling and she like wants to quit photography and she feels horrible about everything and alan who is again i must harp on pretty pretentious is like no u can’t quit ur family doesn’t understand you it’s not about the money it’s about the art use this pain to make something amazing to which like sorry king,,, but it is about the money. the manor has been in the family for decades and prue can’t lose it. and with piper’s college, phoebe’s hospital bills, and grams’s failing health... it’s 100% about the money dude. and fuck turning your pain into art fuck glorifying suffering and fuck you. so now prue’s p cut off she’s pretty isolated she’s all down in the dumps blah blah blah she changed majors to whatever major it was she needed for like museum jobs bc at least this way she can make bank but she’ll still hold a piece of art close to her and she like drowns herself in her work like she’s not just gonna be this major (art history?) she’s gonna be the fuckin best she’s gonna be the top of her class blah blah blah yada yada yada. but y’know flash forward an amount of time and her roommate’s like hey babe. i get like life’s shit i get u got to be the very best like no one ever was but like. you have not left the apartment in four months. you haven’t smiled in probably twice as long so like. idk do something?? that makes you happy maybe???? and prue’s just like :/ bc what made her happy was like photography but now she has very mixed emotions around that and her roommate’s like what did you do for fun in high school like what did you do after school and prue’s like idk cheerleading practice and her roommate’s like word well then go to cheerleading tryouts time skip we really see prue return to all her old glory and climb up the lil cheerleading ladder blah blah blah and in this renaissance of hers she also scores a new love interest who’s basically the opposite of alan enter tom peters the star wide receiver. and i think this relationship for prue was really just like fun it was tipping her toes back into the water it was learning to smile again it was just like a good time fun simple no concerns about the future just like vibing right then and there and then that ended just sorta naturally and they both graduated and it’s time for prue to leap into the professional world and she’s never left california so when she gets a job offer in london she jumps at the chance blah blah blah she’s working she’s having fun she’s defining herself enter eric from london who i’ll say is like a Business Man he’s like a this that or the other idk maybe a museum investor like the young son who just took over his dad’s business that sorta vibe and like eyes meet breath catches there was just this click but it like took them months to get together it was just this dance this game of cat and mouse until prue finally like took the bull by the horns and just like went for it and i think that would be her like most “adult” relationship like dates were going out to fancy dinners not breaking and entering or picnics on the empty football field these were like two professional adults like dating but you know they hit a year and then some and we’ll say like prue is maybe like 24 25 and this guy’s maybe 29 or whatever and they’ve attended friend’s weddings bs they’ve hit that era where everyone’s getting married and suddenly this cloud’s hanging in the air like baby are you my forever girl like is this it fifty years from now to i still come home to you put you know what let’s push that to the back of our minds but now eric’s like 30 and his family’s like dawg,,,, r u gonna be like a spinster or something are you gonna put a ring on it or not and prue (after many many international phone calls to piper) has decided yes she’d do it she’d stay her and be with this man she loves and eric decides prue’s just not the girl for her. so uh. ouch. blah blah blah prue’s had her fun in the uk but it’s like time to return home piper’s just graduates college or whatever and found a job in the city if prue follows suit they could room together which is when she gets the job at the museum where roger works at. and blah blah blah prue’s like amazing as always and of course she catches roger’s attention bc how could she not and he’s constantly pursuing her and prue keeps turning him down at first bc she’s not really interested and then like he’s her boss and then like it becomes a sort of game but now all her friends from high school are getting married and marcia from homeroom has a baby look and the lil pumpkin on her christmas card and fuck what am i doing so you know what yes roger i’ll be your date to the new years party and here’s the thing roger knows prue is really impressive like she’s amazing at her job and she’s a total babe like he shows her off all the time and prue’s like you know receiving this really high praise and you know roger also has cash to spare so it’s like it’s not bad and she doesn’t well love him but he clearly loves her so she can be satisfied and you know her high school reunion is this year and if there’s one thing she would love it would be to write (nee halliwell) on her nametag, to show she got the job, she got the guy, and she’s living pretty in pac heights. so when roger proposes, she says yes. and piper’s happy for her and phoebe thinks roger’s a sleaze and grams is lukewarm but what does grams know about a long lasting marriage and what does phoebe know about anything so blah blah blah she goes to that high school reunion with a big ol rock on her finger and this that and the other and like to be perfectly frank coming home to roger is not like the highlight of her day there’s not this comforting glow when she falls asleep next to him but it’s like. she’s committed. she’s gonna see this through. besides, they’re already working on the guest list and venue and everything like she’s in it now there’s no turning back now and it’s fine like roger’s fine he’s perfectly palatable and she’s encroaching on 30 so. well whatever prue and roger host an easter party and it’s so cute she’s in a darling floral dress dazzling roger’s stuck up parents and eating finger sandwiches when she hears voices coming from the bedroom and is like gonna pretend to ignore it when she catches piper’s eye and piper has that uncomfortable look on her face and she realizes she can’t find phoebe anywhere and Where Is Roger and she busts in on the two of them looking disheveled and phoebe’s like prue- and prue’s like i don’t want to hear it and roger’s like baby- and prue’s like not now and she turns to phoebe like i think it’s best you go and she looks at roger like we’ll talk about this later your parents are wondering where you are so piper drives phoebe home and phoebe’s telling her about how she went to confront roger on being a whore and also like a spineless sleazebag and she was gonna tell prue when he totally started hitting on her and trying to kiss her and then prue broke in and piper’s like uh huh uh huh bc like. she doesn’t like roger all that much. and she agrees with phoebe. but still this thought sorta lingers at the back of her mind like could phoebe have done something? purely to get back at prue? no she wouldn’t. probably. meanwhile roger’s like your sister was totally hitting on me blah blah blah and prue’s like we can talk about it later right now we’re hosting a very nice party and i’m not going to have you ruin in and roger’s like see that’s what i love about you and prue’s like yeah cool and now whenever she comes home to roger she’s just like 🙄 and she’s like complaining to piper about how like she like doesn’t really want to marry him but it’s like too late now the venue’s booked and the save-the-dates have been sent out and piper’s like it’s not too late until you say i do. do you really want to be married to that sleazebag? and prue’s like :| and piper’s like you can call off the wedding and prue’s like :| and piper’s like i’m just saying and prue’s like does he remind you of dad? and piper’s like what? and prue’s like i think roger’s just like victor. i think i’m about to make the same mistake mom made. god, i always wondered how she could have married such a douchebag and here i am about to do the exact same thing! and piper’s not really commenting bc she doesn’t really remember dad but what she does say is you haven’t made that mistake yet so prue’s like you’re right. and that night she calls of the engagement.

[arohasfiction]

Basketball Princess~🧚🏻🏀

As i promised, a Basketball AU Scenario based on Eunwoo's pictures from " Handsome Tigers" for my cutie friend @lookin-for-astro-mutuals who has been waiting for it, i hope you Enjoy it~^^

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

Pairing: Cha Eunwoo X Female Reader

Gener: Too Fluffy, Basketball AU

Word Count: 2116

A/N: This time I've added some pics and texts to make it look more interesting 😊+ Dialogues are coloured [ Y/N: Pink] , [ Cha Eunwoo: Purple].

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

Credits to the Gif Owner~

You are known to be one of the Top students at your university, you're kind, sweet, intelligent and everyone liked friending you. You seemed like a quite and calm person to the others, but you're not, you liked moving around alot and you like to play many sports, one of your favourite was Basketball.

Like Every University and college, there are clubs for Art, Music, dancing, Football and many different clubs to join, one of your wishes during your time at university was to join the Basketball club, basically because you loved basketball, but unfortunately, boys are the only ones allowed to join it and girls can only come to cheer for the members.

You Sighed at the thought of not being able to join your favourite sport's club as you were walking to your next class. On your way, you passed by the gym , you still have 15 minutes until your class starts, so you thought of going inside to take a look since you still have some spare time. You walked inside and stood near to the door watching the basketball team playing a match along with each other, you started reading their faces, they were sweating alot and looked tired but at the same time, their eyes looked full of excitement, they didn't care about anything and they seemed to be enjoying in their own world, and for a second you wished if you were able to join them . You were observing each one of them when your eyes met with a long handsome boy who was brushing his hair of his forehead, he looked sweaty but it made him even more handsome that made your heart skip a beat.

Of course you know him, he is famous in the college to be a top student among boys like you, and he is a talented basketball player and nonetheless every girl in the Campus have a crush on him.

You shyly looked away but looked back at him again, and as they say it needs only 3 seconds to fall in love. As your eyes turned back on him, you're eyes met again and this time he waved at you with a smiley face, you turned around yourself as you thought he was waving at someone else, you looked at him again pointing at yourself, " Me..?", He nodded as he was giggling at you and slowly started approching , "Hello (Y/N)~", " Hi Eunwoo Sunbai...wait how did you know my name~?", " And how can i not know my academic rival's name?" You giggled at his answer , " and how did you know my name~?", " You're the most famous boy in the university campus so yeah hehehe", " If its okay with you, We should hangout sometimes we can study together too,...and..if you like we can meet at lunch after your class", "Sure i don't mind" your conversation went smoothly, it was as if you two were friends from a long time. Your class ended and now you have 2hours break until your next class starts, as you promised Eunwoo, you went to cafeteria and waited for him to come, when he did , you started eating and chatting, " So earlier you seemed to be interested in basketball am i right?", " Well, i love basketball since i was a kid and i really wanna play it, but as you see I can't here.." you said pouting ," Hmm.. that's sad..how about you play it outside the college, plus i can show you some tricks too" ," you well? For real?? Omg thank you so much!!" Eunwoo's cheeks starts to get red as he saw how excited you are . After having lunch you two exchanged phone numbers and decided to meet in the neighborhood's basketball playground.

You with your hoodie and ponytail hair were standing in the middle of the playground aiming at the basket infront of you, with a slight jump and accurate throw, the ball went inside and it was a goal, you heard someone clapping from a distance coming close, you turned around to see Eunwoo in a casual outfit " Wow! Nice shot!" He was really looking so normal but for some reason your heart skipped a beat. You both continued playing until your tummies started making some wired noises that tells you its time to eat, " I'm soooo hungry wanna have some ramyun??" You said, " Sure there is a grocery store near by lets head to it", you both bought ramyuns and started eating, without realizing he was observing you while you're eating, you felt in that gaze so you looked up " Eunwoo-yah, something wrong? Wait there is something on my face right!" , He finally realized that he was staring at you and shyly looked at his ramyun saying" oh haha no, its nothing". your day ended and its time to head back and he insisted to take you home, do you think he walked you home? no you're wrong, he told you to wait for him and he came back with his sport black Car with 2 comfy seats, he got out of the car and opened the door for you, you sat down and so he did, he pullled the seat belt on you and you were afraid that he might hear your heart beat, and soon he drove you home.

Day by day,after hanging out together both of your feelings grew bigger and both of you realized that you love each other, but no one of you took the chance to confess, probably afraid of ruining your friendship. That day your lecturer ended the class earlier than you thought so decided yo text Eunwoo to ask him if he's in class or somewhere else.

You finally reached the Gym and entered, Eunwoo saw you, smiled and continued playing, you just stood there watching him, since you started to have feelings to him , everything he did looked lovely and cool, your heart beated fast at the tiniest actions he does, you were too focused with your thoughts and didn't notice the basketball coming to you like a rocket ship, before you can even protect yourself, two wide arms immediately pulled you and got wrapped around you, one is placed at your back and the other one covering your head, yes Eunwoo pulled you into his embrace to protect you from the ball by making himself a shield, you heart was attacked by the sudden action, your mind was still processing what just happened, Eunwoo pulled off and cupped your face, " Hey, Are you alright!! Did you get hurt somewhere??!" He said almost freaking out, the words barely came out of your mouth, your cheeks were so reddish " ahh-hh yes...yes I'm fine" but you went back to your consciousness, and remembered that he defeated the ball with his back to protect you, " wait!! Are you hurt, the ball hit you really hard, lets go and get some ice from thr clinic!!", You said with a worried face, "heheh its okay I'm fine its not a big deal, I'm glad you're not hurt" he paused for a moment then continued saying " Mm (Y/N)", " Yes?", " Are you free now? Wanna have some ice cream?", "Sure, but did you finish practicing?" ," Yeah I'm done, just let me bring my bag and I will come". And so both of you bought some ice cream and sat on a bench infront of the sea view, it was almost getting dark as the sun went down, you were both enjoying your ice creams silently when Eunwoo stopped and turned to you, "(Y/N)", you hummed in response," I have an important thing to tell you", "What is it~?" You said as you turned your face to him, but only to find his cold lips placed on yours, it was a gentle kiss with an ice cream flavour, you looked at him in a shocked way unable to close your eyes, your heart was beating fast and you were sure that it might explode in any second, he parted and looked at you " I love you, I love you so much from the first time our eyes met, you don't have to answer me now, I'll-" he didn't complete what he was saying but to find your lips connected with his again, your heart was still beating so fast but your emotions were flowing , you wanted to do that as soon as possible, as your lips still connected, Eunwoo placed his palm on your heart, and parted slowly, " hehe i can feel your heart is beating so fast right now" you were too embarrassed and you immediately hide your face in his neck, he wrapped his arms around and hugged you "hehehe you're so cute", " nooo stopppp~~~~~!!" And so the night went.

The next day you and Eunwoo were walking hand into hand in the campus, in the same time those laser stares were following both of you, of course the Girls didn't like the idea of them seeing their crush dating a girl he was just a friend of , and so the boys thought the same because many boys had a crush on you and asked you out but you were not interested, simply because you didn't want to date someone who you don't have feelings for. Anyways Eunwoo walked you to your class and then he went to his class,. Later, after you finished you texted Eunwoo because its was past the time that both of you should have lucnh together...

You waited until Eunwoo came and he droved you to a lovely restaurant near by the neighborhood , you both sat infront of each other and all what you were doing was staring at him as he was focused with the menu

when he looked up you immediately looked at your menu but didn't notice that its upside down so he laughed at you, you both had dinner together and went back home.

In the next day you only had one class in the morning, so you attend it and later when you were done you met him in the hall, " Nunu-yah, aren't you coming?", " Oh you go back first, since we both have Off days tomorrow i will spend the rest of the day in your apartment if you don't mind hehe", you immediately agreed and went back to clean the house, and made dinner before he comes back, its not like the first time for him to come over, but each time made you even happier. Ever since you started dating, your life became brighter because of him. He arrived and took a shower and you both had dinner, and now he was semi- lying on the sofa and you were locking your arms around his watching TV together, he suddenly took out a kind of paper and gave it to you, " what's that?" You asked with an innocent look, " Read it^^" *after reading it*, " Omg are you serious!!! Were going to have a female basketball team!!!but, but- how???!!", " I can't just igonre my girlfriend's Sad look as she watches her favourite sport without joining, so i presuaded the dean", you jumped on Eunwoo and hugged him tightly, then your eyes met, slowly his face came closer and closer to pull you in a passionate kiss, you on the top of him, and him wrapping his arms aronud you, " Let's go to the bed its getting late", " but we have and off day tomorrow" you said with a pouty face," and who said we will sleep? Of course we will cuddle, i feel like i haven't cuddled with you for a long time" he said with his angelic smile,. you cuddled the whole night until you both fell asleep, in the next morning you woke up to find Eunwoo's place empty so you got up and dragged yourself to look for him, you found him in the bathroom brushing his teeth but he didn't notice you yet, so you took out your phone and took a picture of him,

he noticed that and turned to you, "Sweetheart!!! No pictures !! I-", "but you look so cute" you said with your sleepy eyes, " i will go and make us some breakfast" you said, "No, breakfast can wait, i want us to have a morning cuddle, but first you need to delete that pic" , "hehehe no no~" and you ran to the bedroom while he was after you.

The End

[thecurseoflife]

CHAPTER 16 - Once upon a time, there was Saporia

On their way back to prison, Camalia was ecstatic. She kept jumping everywhere, spinning, dancing, sometime just stopping in her track to enjoy the moment.

Her mind was free from that dark pressure it had been under all those years. She felt finally completely in control, liberated from that thing that had restrained her for so long. She could run, jump, feel the wind in her hair, the grass uner her feet, everything was... brighter. Like an invisible curtain had been lifted.

Behind her, walking at a much more reasonable speed, Varian and Captain were distractly watching her, deep in thoughts. They both realized something during that terrifying episode.

For Captain, it was to fully understand how wrong he had been, and how dismissive of the girl's pain. He felt a big shard of guilt in his heart. He hated how close to death she- they had to be for him to embrace the danger the snakes, her curse, actually was. Cap' was conflicted, and all of his beliefs were shook to the core. He didn't like that.

For Varian, if it was close to Cap's realization, it wasn't the same. He wrapped his mind around what Camalia had been trying to tell him all this time. That she wasn't completely in control of her choices, of anything she had ever done. But he couldn't help but to feel hurt. No matter the girl's excuses, or what happened, or how hurt she was, he had been hurt too. And he shouldn't... No, he couldn't close his eyes on his own pain in order to help her feel better. He had to listen to himself, take care, take more care than he used to. So, he wasn't going to be this... agressive, violent person he had been impersonating for a year, whenever he felt hurt. But it didn't mean he had to forgive her, close his eyes on his own wounds.

And he was damn right, people. You see all the aspects of Camalia, and you know that she doesn't mean anything bad, but she still hurt people in the process. If someone, as nice and good as they might be, hurt you, don't close your eyes. Don't brush it off like something minor. Take care of yourself, 'cuz no one is going to do it for you. You don't have to hurt the person back, actually please don't hurt the person back, but . I know you guys are probably internally being aggressive toward Varian whenever he prioritized himself over Camalia, and told her to stop. I want to set this right and explain once and for all this is no one's fault. It's not Camalia's, and it's not Varian's. But this far, their relationship has been mainly portrayed as toxic, even if there was a few nice moments between them. It's just people, in the wrong situation, at the wrong time. They need time to actually build up a healthy, good friendship, and at their current state, it couldn't be rushed, it couldn't be suddenly besties. Of course they immediatly held to each other, like their lives depended on it, but it doesn't mean it was good.

Life doesn't have bad and good people. Nothing is white and nothing is black. Everything is grey. Sometime lighter, sometime darker, but always grey.

Camalia stopped in her track and yelped. Varian and Cap' immediatly snapped their neck back up, a drop of sweat running down their spines. They looked around, throat tight, expecting to see a giant snake emerge from the bushes and attack them. But the girl, unaware of their fear, ran straight forward, to the horse that fled the scene earlier.

Scared of that hyperactive human rushing at him, the horse back down a little. But the mage slowed down before reaching him and pulled out her guitare, hastily playing the melody of heal, effectively calming down the horse and easing his pain coming from all the tiny wounds he had all over.

Once they got the horse back up and running (literally), it was much easier and faster to go back to the kingdom... and to jail.

Of course, after what he saw, and maybe also to ease his guilt a bit, Captain decided to put them into a cell together, refusing to leave either of them alone.

-Look, he explained to Varian when he started complaining, I'm a grown man, a captain of the royal guards, I have fought and seen many things, but those things ? They terrified me, and for the first time in my life, I realized I had no chance in a battle against them. I only saw them twice, and they're going to haunt my nightmares. Now, imagine you, an already broken, misguided kid, and her, that had to endure this for 10 years, alone in cells at night, the shadows waving, making you believe the curse and the snakes are back. What now, hm ?

Varian closed his mouth and didn't open it again.

And here they were, the mage, the alchemist, and the elephant in the room.

Varian wanted to talk about the Saporians, and the plan, but he feared he would be left alone. Even if he didn't forgive her, he still wished for her support. Camalia wanted to talk about her behavior and the brutal way she handled the situation back in Old Corona, but she feared that it would only make him upset.

So they sat awkwardly on their respectives couches, sparing a quick glance at the other from time to time. Varian felt incredibly alone, and the disapperance of Ruddiger left an empty, dark and cold spot next to him and in his heart. The girl catched the sad look on her friend's (yes, for her they were friends whatever he said) face.

-I'm sure he's okay.

The alchemist sighed and hugged his legs.

-How can you be ?

-Well, I know for a fact that Witheria wouldn't kill anyone or anything out of rage. So he's safe from her. I also know that despite Decaiera's tendencies to torture and slowly murder her victims, she has a soft spot for everything that isn't human. Even if they were angry, I'm sure Ruddiger is fine.

Varian didn't answer, but held on her word with all the despair he felt in his heart and soul. He hesitated, shifted a bit, bit his lips, shifted again, turned to Camalia and put his legs down, hesitated, opened his mouth...

A loud noise under the cell made them both jump. They looked into the well, a bit nervous, but overall curious.

-Once you kids are done whining on that rodent, maybe we could start making the plan.

Varian's eyes widened, while Camalia huffed in shock and annoyance. She didn't know who that man was, but she already knew she didn't like him. But her friend didn't seem bothered by this thug rude manners. He bowed more, trying to decipher the darkness of the cell under them.

-Andrew ?

-Hello, jailmate. How have you been with the cursed girl ?

Varian stood up, blinked once, then twice, and a huge grin spread across his face.

-Heh ! This is great ! It will be so much easier to work on the plan like this ! Right, Camal-

His smile abruptly disappeared as he remembered the cause of their argument back in Old Corona. She wouldn't help him. She didn't agree. She was an obstacle, an ennemy. Unaware of the thoughts crossing the alchemist's brain, Camalia sighed and got up as well.

-Look, Varian. I know the way I acted back in your house was... very violent and... not... What I mean is I shouldn't have done what I did, and I'm really, really sorry about what happened. However... I don't really have any good reason to not help you anymore. I mean, the curse is gone, I don't really WANT to stay in jail for the rest of my life. Plus, you're my friend, and I think... I think friends should support eachother, so I want to help !

She looked more confident than she felt. She was inconfortable with Varian's plan, and didn't really want to participate in that, but maybe it was for the better... He did have more experience of the outside world than her, he knew what he was doing. Right ?

The boy felt guilty. Not to make the girl his accomplice, but to have made the assumption that she was an ennemy, and making a... plan to sort that out. She already helped him so many time, even if she did screw things up, but he was sure that even if she decided to not aid him, she wouldn't have confessed everything to Cap. He just knew that.

Varian hesitated, then looked down the well. He needed a second opinion.

-What do you think, Andrew ?

-I think that we already have a mage.

Camalia squatted down, and when she spoke her voice was cold and harsh.

-I am not just a mage. I am a music mage. Your people slaughtered mine because you were scared of our power. I am not some wand wielding, trick making maniac. I make actual magic, don't compare our art with your pathetic replica.

The alchemist looked at his accomplice in disbelief, surprised that the sweet Camalia would speak like that, then brushed it off. An offended scoff was heard beneath them, then the cells felt silent for a minute. Andrew's voice finally rose.

-It's your friend, kid. If she joins us, you will be responsible of her.

Varian winced. The music mage was way too impredictable to assume responsability for her. For all he knows, maybe tomorrow she would have burned the kingdom to the ground. Who knows ?! Not him. Maybe he had to consider not-

-I can be responsible for myself. I don't need a babysitter, I just got rid of two. You want me in, or out. No inbetween. And why do you want the downfall of Corona so bad ?! I've read nothing about it.

When words rose again, it wasn't Andrew's voice. It was sharp, broken-like, but definitely a woman voice. Camalia concluded there were at least two people under them, probably more.

-Once upon a time, there was Saporia. It was a thriving kingdom, strong and happy. We had our own culture, our own food, legends and magic. We had a festival, each year, that took place in the middle of winter, and it seemed to have been really important to us. But we, the separatists of Saporia, the descendants of those people, we can't remember why. We can't remember what happened at that festival, what people did there, why it was OUR festival.

-Why ?

Another voice took over. It was deeper, a male voice, probably strong judging by the tone. It was different, yet it ringed in the same soft, sad, low pitch.

-One night, in the middle of summer, Corona attacked. That wasn't really important in itself. Saporia was used to attacks of their sworn ennemy. We prepared ourselves for battle, again. None of the proud Saporians would admit it, but they were tired of that war. Tired of fighting, of being half-awake every hour of the night and day. We wished for peace, but were scared of how it would come.

Silence fell again in the prison. Through the tiny windows, the sun was going down, making the shadows longer and the lights warmer. The animosity that was piercing in Camalia's heart was gone, and both her and Varian had sat down around the well, religiously listenning. The music mage heart was drumming in her chest, and she could feel the tightness of her throat. Their story felt familiar. It hit home.

Like they were hesitating, the minute of silence became two, then three. When the story continued it was a woman, pretty young, that told it.

-That night, our queen told the soldiers to stand down. At first, no one understood why. Then, we realized we weren't getting attacked. The coronan army was there to escort someone to us. The king. That night, the war ended, and everyone was happy. Absolutely everyone. We were all thrilled, coronans like saporians ! There was a huge party in Saporia that night, were kingdoms and borders didn't matter. The problem is, they never did anymore.

Another voice took over, with quite a strange pitch, much higher than expected, but definitely male. Still holding that sad tone with every word.

-Not long after that, our queen and your king got married. It was a time of celebration and happiness. We didn't understand at first why it was not right to have taken the borders down. We were simply relieved to be at peace. Then, it started. It was small at first. We took in Corona's festivals and parties, then we moved closer to them, leaving behind our ancestral temples, then we stopped making our food, and made Corona's. At that point, people were noticing how our culture was being wipped out. We spoke out to our queen, that tried to convince the king to make the coronans interested in Saporia's culture. But we don't know how, he convinced HER that Saporia's culture didn't matter.

-And from then, Andrew continued, they destroyed everything, completely eating us without any trace of what we had been left behind. They took our books but never showed them on shelves, broke our temples pretexting to need stones for the new houses, destroyed everything we were, and no one said anything. When most of the saporians realized what was going on, it was too late. They gave up fighting, and today, saporian's descendants have forgotten who they are. But we haven't. Facing that cultural genocide, some of us rose and tried to fight back, but we were painted as the villains, the ones that were against love and union. But we wanted peace and union. Mutual respect, the merging of our cultures, not the downfall of one for the benefit of the other.

Destruction of a culture. Of what it was. Erasure of their past. To nothing but a line in a forgotten history book. Yes, their story ringed home, because it was. It wasn't fair. None of this was fair. Corona was built on lies, pain and suffering. She still didn't agree with their plan but... Maybe she could make a difference. She would try.

-So, music mage, are you in or out ?

A grumble answered, in the same cell as Andrew's.

-I say we left her out... She insulted my magic.

Camalia flinched but knew it was fair. Unlike what their people had been through.

-I'm in.

WHAT’S THIS ?

First / Previous / NEXT

[gaylotusthatexists]

By The Sea

Virgil's life may be going downhill, but at least he still has his island and he still has the sea. However, when he meets a certain writer staying in the hotel he works at, it appears that something more important has arrived.

Roman's life seems to be going great, but he knows that soon all that may change. He has travelled to this island, along with this two best friends, to focus on his work, but when he meets a certain guy that he's sure he recognises, how can he focus on anything else?

And with only twelve days on the island together, will they be able to make it work?

Pairings: Prinxiety, Logicality, Remile

Word Count: 24160

This was written for the @ts-storytime, and boi did it take a while so I hope that y'all enjoy this. The full fic has been posted onto my ao3 here. You can read the first chapter below but I’m not planning on posting the rest on Tumblr, unless any of y’all really want me too. 

@justisaisfine made some beautiful pieces of artwork for this fic which you can find here, seriously guys go follow them, their art is amazing.

As far as I'm aware, there isn't anything in this that would be particularly triggering, but if y'all spot anything please let me know and I'll put up a warning. At the very worst there is some negative thinking and crying, but it's mostly fluff honestly. It also contains Deceit, who could be viewed as sympathetic or morally-grey, honestly idk. 

There are some bits that are in Spanish and I would like to apologise in advance for the terrible Spanish, I used Google Translate which I don't really trust but I also don't speak Spanish so y'know. If any of y'all are Spanish-speaking and know a better translation, please let me know, I'd really appreciate it.

Anyway, I think that's all I have to say? Hope y'all enjoy it! I certainly enjoyed writing it, haha

<3

DAY ONE

00:09

The sea shimmered in the moonlight, thousands of stars reflecting off its gentle waves. Pulling his hoodie tighter around his body, the boy exhaled. This was his home, his true home - the sky and the ocean and the island. Sat here by the sea, he could feel the wind brushing past his cheeks and the water washing over his feet. He could have stayed there, in that single moment, forever and ever, and he'd never grow tired of the feeling.

But it was late and he had to get back to the apartment. He couldn't stay out here all night, not when he had to be up so early for work in the morning. Sure, the chances of him actually sleeping were slim, but it was better resting inside that out. And he needed rest to be ready for tomorrow.

Glancing up to the sky for one last look before returning to reality, he saw a flashing light moving across the black. All he could do was sigh. That would be a plane, filled with visitors. People who come to the island to catch sun or whatever they do. People who Virgil would have to deal with for a couple weeks before they exit stage left. People who probably won't even notice that Virgil had a life of his own.

But hey, they're also the people who pay the bills, so could Virgil really complain?

This was his life. He had to deal with idiots like that for a while, but at least he had this. He had his island, and he had the sea.

Virgil stood up and started the journey into his future.

6:00

A blaring alarm jolted Roman out of bed and, for a moment, all he wanted in life was death - not specifically his own.

"Who the hell set an alarm?" he groaned, sitting up and rubbing his forehead. The horrendous sound still rung out through the room, hammering into his skull, until it was finally cut off and Roman was able to breath.

"That would be me," Logan said, casually. He was already out of bed and heading into the bathroom. "We've got to get on if we want to get breakfast."

Roman sighed, closing his eyes again. "Logan. We're on holiday. We're supposed to be relaxing. Not getting up at six am."

Logan poked his head out the door. "The restaurant opens at seven, Roman."

"That doesn't mean we have to be there at seven," Roman argued, lying back down and pulling the sheets over his head.

"If we get there first, we're more likely to receive better food, and as you know, breakfast is the most-"

"Yeah, yeah, most important meal, you say this every day," Roman said. "Can't we just, like, grab a quick brunch later on?"

Logan sighed. "No, Roman. That is not how any of this works." He slammed the door shut.

A few moments, maybe minutes, later, Roman peeked out from under the blankets. "Pat?" he whispered.

No response. Patton must have still been asleep. Of course Patton would be the one who got to sleep through the alarm and the argument.

Roman turned onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. It seemed as though he wouldn't be getting back to sleep anytime soon. All whilst Patton was laid there still sound asleep. That was so, so unfair.

He couldn't really do anything, though. Patton has always been a heavy sleeper, unlike Roman. And he supposed that Logan had a point - getting up early would certainly help with this work, since they hadn't just come here for a vacation. Whilst the promise of sun had been one of the deciding factors, the actual reason that the three boys had travelled to the island was to get away from city life and focus on their work - Logan was studying some science mumbo-jumbo that Roman didn't understand, Patton was hoping to work on his photography, and Roman needed to get this goddamn novel finished. A quiet, whilst kind of touristy, place like that seemed like the best place for them to focus, and in the case of the other two actually added to their work.

That didn't mean Roman was okay with getting up so early, though. Not after he spent God-knows-how-long travelling and then only getting around three hours of sleep. Maybe the next day it would've been fine, but he seriously doubted he would be able to focus at all today.

There was no harm in trying, though. If all else failed, he could always take a nap later on. But for now, he had to focus on his plan. He was in for the adventure of a lifetime, and he wasn't going to waste it.

8:09

Virgil stumbled into the kitchen and grabbed his coffee mug, chugging the entire thing in one go. This morning he would be working on pure caffeine and spite, which perhaps wasn't the best idea when he was supposed to look happy for the 'guests', but if it got him through the day then so be it. Upon realising that his cup was empty, he grabbed the one next to it, not bothering to check who's it was, and chugged that too.

"Remy isn't going to appreciate you drinking his coffee," one of Virgil's roommates said, from the other side of the kitchen.

Virgil put the cup back down and looked over at Emile, who was sat crosslegged on top of the counter sipping his cup of hot chocolate. "What a shame." He began pouring out another cup of coffee.

"Are you doing okay, buddy?" Emile asked, jumping down from the counter and stepping towards him. "'Cause, uh, that's an awful lot of coffee."

"If I don't drink this, I'll end up punching a dude, and then I'll lose my job again. Which I can't afford to do."

Before Virgil could drink a third cup, Emile gently pulled it out of his hand. "Virgil, you're going to end up killing yourself."

"Oh no," Virgil said in monotone, trying to get his coffee back but being unable too as Emile held it out of his reach.

A third person came strutting into the room and snatched the coffee out Emile's hand. "Was Virgil trying to steal my coffee again?" he asked.

Emile smirked. "He did steal your coffee. And then made another one."

Remy faked annoyance. "How dare he."

Virgil just sighed.

"Well," Emile said, "I should get off. I've got a client at ten."

Remy smiled and planted a small kiss on Emile's forehead. "Good luck, Em."

"Ew," Virgil said.

"This is our apartment, I'm allowed to kiss my boyfriend," Remy said, as Emile moved away towards the front door.

"I also live here," Virgil reminded him.

"Only because your poor," Remy countered.

"I make more than you."

"And Emile makes more than both of us combined."

Virgil considered that for a moment. "I mean, yeah, I guess."

"When you get yourself a rich significant other, then you can move out and you won't have to watch us be gay." Before Virgil could reply, Remy left the kitchen.

Shaking his head but allowing a small smile to creep out, Virgil grabbed his backpack and left the apartment.

9:32

"Why are we up so early?" Patton moaned, as the three of them walked out of the hotel.

"We've gone over this, Patton," Logan said. "We have to make the most of our time here."

"We have almost two weeks, Logan, surely we can spare a day to rest," Patton argued.

"You're not allowed to complain," Roman chimed in. "Since, y'know, you got an extra hour of sleep."

"Speaking of," Logan continued, "I set an alarm for a reason. It would be great if, in the future, you both got up at the designated time."

Patton sighed. "Alright, Logan."

Logan smiled. "Thank you for understanding, Patton."

9:35

Virgil glanced at a group of three boys making their way out of the hotel as he made his way in. He could tell they were new arrivals from their pale complexity - and from the fact he hadn't seen them around yet. They might have been on last nights plane. But if that were the case, why were they up so early?

Maybe they were the type to get out and do things. Which was good for Virgil, because that just meant less people to slave after. Although, they did seemed to be the loud type, judging by the fact that he could hear their conversation perfectly, which he did not care for at all. Perhaps they would be a problem later on.

Not that any of that mattered. It wasn't as if any of them would talk to him. Properly, he meant. They weren't going to walk up to him and willingly start a conversation. No one ever did. They would just get what they need off him and then leave him be.

"You're late," someone said, as soon as Virgil stepped foot into the lobby.

He sighed. "My shift doesn't even start until ten." He walked up to the counter and leant his arm on the side, looking up to the person who had spoke, the manager. He was wearing a black and yellow suit, with a waistcoat, a bowler hat and a bowtie - over the top, really, for a less-than-fancy hotel in middle of nowhere. Down one side of his face, he had a scar surrounded by burn marks, from some mysterious tragedy he refused to talk about. Virgil had met him a couple years after said tragedy, and had been somewhat-friends with him for some time. Of course, that didn't mean he wasn't still a harsh boss.

The manager - Declan - smiled. "You're meant to arrive at half nine."

"I know, I know." Virgil shrugged. "But five minutes doesn't hurt."

"Sure," Declan dragged out.

"So, what's the deal?" He leant back. "Who we got this week?"

"Not a lot of visitors," Declan admitted. "Mostly people on business."

"Cool." Virgil breathed out. "I'll go get changed."

"Why don't you ever get changed at home?" Declan wondered.

Virgil shrugged. "You have a changing room here. Might as well make use of it."

"Is it because you don't like walking here in uniform?" Declan guessed, sensing that Virgil was lying.

"You got me." Virgil smiled. "See you in twenty."

"It doesn't take that long to-"

Virgil had already left the room before he could hear Declan finish.

19:26

"Can I take your order?"

Roman looked up at the waiter and all words fled from his mind. The man was perfect. His soft, dyed purple hair swooped in front of his deep brown eyes, which were outlined by a thick layer of black eyeshadow, kind of smudged after the long day. He had dark, smooth skin, but chapped lips, and he looked like a mess, actually, but for some reason Roman was drawn to him and only him. Everything else seemed to fade away. It was just him.

Logan nudged Roman.

Roman continued staring.

The man walked away.

Roman's world came back.

"Roman?"

His head shot to the source of the voice - Patton. "Huh?"

"You alright?" Patton asked.

Roman blinked. "Uh, yeah, I'm fine, why?"

"You didn't speak when he asked for your order," Logan said.

Roman frowned. "I..."

He breathed in. He had never felt that before. Never lost control over his words.

But... maybe that wasn't bad. Maybe something great was about to happen.

He had to see that man again.

CONTINUE READING HERE