#about the fact that she’d confessed to someone else and then gushed to me about it (not that i even said so)

[diluc33rpm]

2/2 Are you a jealous person?

i regularly commit the sin of envy every time kusuo saiki flexes his capability of teleporting coffee jelly to his house onscreen

[wondernimbus]

two sworn enemies pt. 2 — draco malfoy

pairing: draco malfoy x female!reader

summary: maybe being fancied by draco malfoy isn’t so bad, after all.

requests are closed for now. please refrain from plagiarizing my work!

click here to read pt. 1!

"Why is it so bloody cold?"

[Y/N] is decked out in full winter apparel; a knitted Gryffindor sweater, ear-muffs, and a scarf that she has half of her face buried in.

Sitting in the Quidditch stands with the rest of her friends, she grumbles, "It's not even a Gryffindor match. We don't really have to be here freezing to death."

"Well, it's common courtesy," says Hermione, but she's just as cold as [Y/N] is; there's bits of snow stuck in her hair and the tip of her nose is pink.

Ron snorts loudly. “We’re here to watch Slytherin lose," he says matter-of-factly, still in the process of smearing streaks of blue paint across his cheek.

[Y/N] watches him, nose scrunched. "Well, aren't you the Ravenclaw fanatic."

He gives her a grin and holds out the small tub of paint. "Want some?"

She bunches up her lips in thought, then reaches out to take it. Annoyingly enough, Ron pulls back at the last moment, grinning wider than ever, and says, "Or d'you want to show support for your boyfriend Malfoy? Hermione, why don't you turn this green—"

[Y/N] dives over Hermione and Harry to smack Ron round the head, only for the pair to hold her back and push her into her seat.

Exasperated, Hermione huffs, "Honestly, Ronald, will you stop bringing that up?" She glares at him. "You know fully well [Y/N] doesn't like it."

Ron (and Harry, although he isn't as boisterous about it as the redhead), thinks that the "blond ferret" taking a fancying to her is one of, if not the most hilarious thing to have ever happened in history. Annoyingly enough, Ron has made it a habit to tease her about it every chance he gets—this one being one of them.

"If I didn’t know better, I’d have thought Ron fancied Malfoy with how much he talks about him," grins Harry. This earns him a smatter of blue paint across his face; Ron had flicked it at him.

With one last eye-roll, [Y/N] tears her gaze away from Ron and digs her nose further into her scarf. It really is very cold; snow is falling from the sky, seeping into her clothes, some landing on her hair and on her face. Thankfully there's not so much of it that the players on the pitch wouldn't be able to see around them, but still—[Y/N] imagines that it'd be a lot colder for them, having to fly around the stadium with the cold wind whipping at their robes.

There’s a buzz of loud chatter hanging in the air as conversations from all around them overlap over one another. The entire stadium is slowly filling up; students trickle into the stands, a majority of which have adorned themselves with blue accessories as a show of support to Ravenclaw. One side of the stands, however, is entirely green. Through the snow, she can see a big serpent-shaped balloon hovering over the Slytherin side.

"They’re coming out!" someone exclaims.

Sure enough, when [Y/N] looks down at the pitch, players from both teams have appeared and congregated at opposite ends of the pitch. Slytherin and Ravenclaw; whichever house wins will play Gryffindor for the house cup. Most bets are on Slytherin, but [Y/N] would have to be dead before she is caught anywhere supporting them.

"Look, it's [Y/N]'s boyfriend," gushes Ron.

More out of habit than anything, [Y/N] shoots the redhead yet another brief, scathing look. Draco Malfoy is there, even though he's nowhere near being her boyfriend, pale face set into a stoic expression of calm as he stands with the rest of his team, one hand on his broom and the other on his hip—and this specific image has her thinking back to what happened two weeks ago on this very same pitch, except the stadium was empty and it was only the two of them on the grounds; when he'd confessed to liking her.

As if Malfoy has somehow heard her thoughts over the noise of excited chatter coming from all over the stands, he looks up, eyes sweeping the seats in search for someone before finally, they land on her.

When he meets her gaze, [Y/N]'s breath isn't knocked out of her chest, nor does she start blushing madly. But she doesn't burn red with annoyance, either. All she does is stare at him, eyes narrowed, watching as his lips split into a wide grin and he raises his hand to wave at her.

She rolls her eyes, but thankfully—thankfully, the scarf tucked around her neck, reaching up to her nose, conceals the smile that tugs at her lips.

"May I ask everyone to please find themselves in their seats before the match begins," McGonagall’s voice echoes around the stadium, giving [Y/N] a reason to break eye contact.

She tears her stare away from Malfoy’s, inhaling a deep breath through her nose, feeling oddly exhilarated.

But this isn't anything new. That slight feeling of breathlessness, that unfamiliar sensation tickling at her stomach whenever she spots a certain someone in the hallway; she's been feeling it a lot lately, and though the cause seems to be pretty obvious, that is another thing she'd have to be caught dead before doing: admitting that she reciprocates some of Malfoy’s.. peculiar feelings.

"And they're off!" Dean Thomas announces. [Y/N] watches as the players soar high into the air until they're mostly level with the stands, a blur of blue and green robes rapidly zooming around the pitch. Slytherin is already in possession of the quaffle; not a surprise, considering Ravenclaw isn't exactly known for their exceptionally talented Quidditch team.

Malfoy, meanwhile—[Y/N] tells herself that the way her eyes dart around the pitch in search of a certain platinum blond is because she wants to watch the game properly and not for other reasons.

She spots him hovering somewhere above the rest of the players, face screwed up in concentration as his gaze moves around the pitch in search for the golden snitch. He looks even paler in winter, set against a backdrop of a cloudy sky and snow—

[Y/N] jars herself out of her thoughts and blinks, side-eyeing her friends (specifically Ron) to make sure they hadn't seen her.. observing the Slytherin seeker. (Not like it matters; it's not as though she fancies him, but Ron would certainly take it the wrong way.)

"Go Ravenclaw!" Ron practically screeches, waving his Ravenclaw banner in the air—when did he get that? "Kick Slytherin’s arse so Gryffindor can crush you in the finals!"

[Y/N] snorts. "Have it all thought out, don't you, Ron?"

"Go on and cheer for your Slytherin boyfriend, [Y/N], no one's stopping you," says Harry, grinning. She turns to face him, mouth open in disbelief, and lets out a quick breath of incredulous laughter.

"So, Harry," [Y/N] says, suddenly deadpan. ”I see you've chosen Ron’s side."

Harry snickers, then shrugs.

"Oh, Malfoy’s seen the snitch!" someone shouts from beside them. [Y/N] turns back to the game to see Malfoy zooming down the pitch, clutching the front of his broom as he swerves past Slytherin and Ravenclaw players alike in pursuit of the tiny golden ball all the way on the other side of the stadium, where [Y/N] and her friends are sat. He has the upper hand—Ravenclaw's seeker is only just now starting to fly after him, but she's a good distance behind and Malfoy is gaining speed.

"He’s gonna catch it!"

"Ravenclaw's even worse than I thought," grumbles Ron, slumping down in his seat.

But just as Malfoy passes by them, somehow, despite the fact that he is in pursuit of the bloody golden snitch and on the brink of securing victory for his team, he slows down just the tiniest bit, and then, in true Malfoy fashion—theatric as always in his displays of affection—he catches her eye and yells “This one's for you, [Y/N]!”, a grin on his face before he hurtles down the pitch, stretching out his hand towards the fluttering snitch—

"Malfoy’s got the snitch!" Dean Thomas screams into his microphone. "Slytherin wins!"

[Y/N] stares, feeling oddly warm despite the wintry weather, as Malfoy spins around in mid-air, triumphantly holding up the snitch for the rest of Hogwarts to see.

"Blimey," gapes Ron, wide-eyed, staring not at the Slytherin seeker but at [Y/N]. "That was—"

[Y/N] looks away from Malfoy to meet Ron's gaze, maintaining indifference. "He’s quite the charmer, isn't he?" she mutters, and hopes that her friends will think that the blush on her cheeks is because of the cold and not because of something—someone else.

But that's ridiculous. It is because of the cold, isn't it?

"It may be Malfoy," says Ron slowly, shaking his head, "But you can't deny that was bloody romantic. Felt like I was watching something out of one of those Muggle films."

"Yeah, we'll have to ask him for tips," says Harry, and starts laughing when [Y/N] rolls her eyes in response.

—

Malfoy may have stopped sending her Howlers, but that hardly matters because he has found every other way to pester her.

This includes consistently yelling out her name and shouting random pick-up lines every time he spots her in the hallway, as well as sending people to do her bidding—no longer first-years, but Crabbe and Goyle, who show up at random intervals everyday presenting her with a batch of different pastries. She always sends the pair off, but only after Ron and Harry accept said pastries for themselves.

"Blimey, this is heavenly!" gushes Ron, taking a passionate bite off of his second red velvet cupcake. "You sure you don't want a bite, [Y/N]? Hermione?"

[Y/N] offers him an exasperated smile. "No, thank you, Ron."

"Don’t thank me, thank your boyfriend."

The four of them walk into the dingy Potions classroom. Snape is nowhere to be seen, but it's only a matter of time before he swoops in all bat-like, so [Y/N] and Hermione quickly take a seat at their regular desk, right next to Ron and Harry.

"Have you done your homework?" asks Hermione, pulling out an assortment of parchment from her bag.

[Y/N] hums in response. "I doubt mine is half as good as yours, but hopefully I’ll scrape an acceptable."

"Oh, you're a good student, [Y/N]. Don't bring yourself down."

"Hard not to when I’m sitting next to the brightest witch in our year," she nudges Hermione’s shoulder, smiling. Hermione huffs, rolling her eyes, but it's clear by the pleased look on her face that she doesn't hate [Y/N]'s honest flattery as much as she lets on.

[Y/N] drums her fingers on the desk to pass time, not quite paying attention to the students filtering into the classroom. Or at least not until one of them calls her name and drawls, "Is someone sitting here?"

[Y/N]'s head snaps around to see none other than Malfoy, gesturing to the desk to the left of hers and Hermione’s. "Mind if I,” he pauses, grinning, "Slytherin?"

She purses her lips into a thin, tight line, inhaling deeply as she fights to keep her cool. Yes, there are times when Malfoy's gestures have her questioning her own hatred for him, but this—this is not one of them.

"That," she says, voice mostly level. "Is your seat, Malfoy. I don’t see why you have to ask me."

Which is a lie. [Y/N] knows why, of course. To get her attention. To woo her. But part of her wishes that Malfoy would realize that everything he is doing, from the overbearing pick up lines to the cupcakes to his constant public declarations of love, isn't something that [Y/N] thoroughly enjoys. Does she want him to stop yelling at her in the hallways? Yes. Does she want Crabbe and Goyle to stop bumbling up to her everywhere she goes (outside of the girl's bathroom is one example) offering cupcakes and pie and tarts? Yes. But does she want Malfoy to stop trying entirely?

Maybe not. Maybe part of her wants to give him a chance. He does seem to truly hold feelings, judging from his confession back at the Quidditch stadium, unless he's a terribly good actor.

And it wouldn't just be him she'd be giving a chance, either. Perhaps she'd also be doing so to herself. Because, over the past month, it's baffled her how quickly her feelings for him have shifted. Or maybe it's not a change of feelings, but rather realization that under all that sneering and pureblood prejudice, Draco Malfoy is a boy.

An annoyingly attractive one.

But there is so much more that [Y/N] dislikes about him. His snootiness. His arrogance. His lack of consideration for other people's feelings. He may be tall and lithe and undeniably handsome, and he may have very soft-looking platinum blond hair and stormy grey eyes like dark clouds, but he is also a prick. And that wins over everything else, no matter how.. visually pleasing he is.

So when a paper bird flutters in front of her halfway through the lesson, when Snape’s back is turned, [Y/N] hesitates. She knows fully well who it's from, despite not having to look to the side and meet his gaze.

From beside her, Hermione whispers, "Get rid of it, before Snape sees."

Exhaling, [Y/N] snatches the paper bird and quickly unfolds it.

She doesn't know what she's expecting to see, but it's certainly not the words "meet me at the Astronomy tower after dinner" scribbled across the parchment. And with a drawing of a face blowing kisses, no less.

[Y/N] sighs.

—

[Y/N] has no real feelings for Malfoy, so succumbing to his mysterious evening request at the Astronomy tower shouldn't mean anything.

Scratch that: it doesn't mean anything. Not to her. (Or so she tells herself.) This is a chance for her to tell Malfoy to sod off and to stop courting her. And for good, this time. No matter what that annoying little voice inside her head tells her, she can't possibly even consider the idea of actually giving in to him. (And to herself.)

So she's going to put a stop to it, once and for all.

"I’m going," she decides over dinner, slamming her palms down on the table.

"Going where?" asks Harry.

"The Astronomy tower," she replies resolutely.

"What, to go star-gazing?" Ron snickers. [Y/N] glances at him and realizes, quickly, that telling them had slipped her mind—she'd been far too preoccupied with her own conflicting thoughts.

She shifts in her seat. She doesn't necessarily need to tell them, does she? It's not as though it's important enough to share. And besides, Ron would only badger her about it. Mercilessly. [Y/N] can already picture him in her head, talking about Malfoy and snogging under the stars and Merlin-knows-what-else.

"Nevermind," says [Y/N], taking a bite out of a muffin and looking away. They don't need to know; it's not as though it's important.

—

After [Y/N] has walked up all of the stairs to get there, only taking one or two shortcuts, she's out of breath, but she creeps into the Astronomy tower anyway. It’s mostly dark save for the faint moonshine filtering in from the open sides, and, well—there he is.

Malfoy’s arms are crossed over his chest, his back mostly turned as he stands dangerously close to the railing, looking out over the dark landscape. Dim light catches on the side of his face, illuminating the grey of his eyes.

The curve of his nose.

Pale skin.

White-blond hair.

[Y/N] finds herself staring, one hand on the doorframe as though for support, brows furrowed in the middle in a slight frown as she watches him.

He looks lost in thought. Even from a few feet away, [Y/N] can see the far-off, distant look in his eyes. Like storms brewing behind dark clouds, she thinks to herself. It’s a quiet little whisper in the back of her mind that has her heart doing odd little flips inside of her chest that she never knew it was capable of.

But then she blinks.

This is the last thing [Y/N] needs. To see Malfoy stripped of his arrogance—to see him as he is, bathed in moonlight, glowing, almost. To look at him and to see a boy with eyes like molten silver and nothing more—it's the last thing she needs to convince herself that she doesn't feel something for him that isn't hatred.

No, she doesn't need this.

She turns around, breath caught in her throat, and starts walking down the steps. Accidentally, stupidly, her foot catches on a metal step and a loud clang echoes around the silent tower.

[Y/N] pauses, eyes wide.

"[Y/N]?" Malfoy's voice says. He can't see her. It’s too dark, and [Y/N] is too far down the steps.

She swallows. But instead of dreading what could come, she finds herself waiting, half-hoping that he'd check the staircase, that he would see her and—

And then what?

[Y/N] rushes down the steps, ignoring the loud noise her footsteps make on the way. This is the last thing she needs.

—

[Y/N] doesn't like Malfoy.

[Y/N] doesn't like Malfoy, and she is determined to make that clear. (Both to herself and to her friends, although the former seems to be taking a lot more convincing.)

"What is there to like about him? He’s nothing but an annoying pain in the arse who has an overwhelming amount of pride and arrogance simply because of his blood—which is not only something that he never rightfully earned but is also something that shouldn't even bloody matter, except he thinks that it does solely because he is an absolute nutter who has nothing better to do with his life other than leech off of his parents' money and shove it in other people's faces."

Ron meets Harry’s gaze from across the table, who seems to be trying very hard not to laugh. Swallowing down a forkful of pancakes, Ron looks back at [Y/N]. "I’m sorry," he begins slowly. "But remind me again why we're talking about Malfoy?"

"I’m not finished, Ronald," [Y/N] snaps, shooting him a dirty look. Ron raises his eyebrows. "As I was saying before someone so rudely cut me off, Malfoy is a nasty little git who finds joy in making other people suffer. he probably has tiny puppies locked up inside his basement just so he can laugh in their faces and revel in their misery because he is that horrible of a person—"

Harry lurches with poorly suppressed laughter.

"An absolute terrible excuse for a human being! He basks in other people's humiliation—mine, for example!—and I would much rather snog the Giant Squid than ever actually consider his—" She pauses, gritting her teeth. "Odd.. requests."

"It’s not like he's asking you to murder house-elves," Ron mutters.

"Something that I would rather do than date him!"

"[Y/N]!" Hermione gasps, looking genuinely offended as she, for the first time since they'd arrived at the Great Hall for breakfast, looks up from the homework she's rushing to finish. (As if her five pieces worth of parchment aren't enough—Flitwick had only asked for three!)

"Sorry, Hermione," [Y/N] says, offering her an apologetic look that she only half-means. This quickly turns into a fierce look of challenge as she swivels back around in her seat to face the redhead sitting next to her. "Honestly, since when have you started defending Malfoy?"

Ron blanches. "I’m not defending him!" he says indignantly, setting his fork down on his plate. "It’s just.. yeah, it's a bit odd that he's declaring his undying love for you out of bloody nowhere, but he's stopped badgering us, hasn't he? Nasty little ferret hasn't said a word to Harry for weeks! And that goes for me and Hermione, too!"

[Y/N] narrows her eyes at him. "So you think it's great that he's stopped annoying you at the cost of my suffering?"

"What suffering!" Ron exclaims. "He’s been treating you like a bloody princess!"

"Oh, why don't you just snog him yourself, then, if you think so highly of him?"

Ron’s jaw drops in shocked offense.

"Alright, that's enough!" Harry announces, reaching over the table to shove the two apart from each other. "Why doesn't one of you switch seats with me before you end up strangling each other?"

"I don't know, Harry," [Y/N]'s lip curls. "I might have to hold Ron back before he goes running off to his ferret prince—or should we just let him? Merlin knows he'd love to, won't you, Ronald?"

Ron’s teeth are gritted; his eyes dart around the food on the table as though looking for the most effective weapon. He seems to be choosing between a green apple and rhubarb pie.

Thankfully, Ron never gets to take his pick. The bell rings, saving everyone in the Great Hall from witnessing what could have possibly been a brawl between friends. "Come on, let's go," says Harry quickly, relief evident in his tone of voice as he ushers the pair to their feet. "Wouldn’t want to be late for class."

—

[Y/N] doesn't like Malfoy.

[Y/N] doesn't like Malfoy, but why does she find herself staring at him whenever she comes across him in the hallway the next day? Why, when Malfoy meets her gaze, does she look away and pretend to be immersed in something else?

And why in the bloody hell, when Malfoy playfully winks at her during Potions class, does she find it very, very hard not to smile?

She walks out of the dungeon classroom in a hurry with Ron, Harry, and Hermione, not wanting to spend a minute more in Malfoy's presence; she doesn't particularly enjoy being suddenly hyperaware of every move he makes, every little glance he sends her way when he thinks she isn't paying attention. It’s as though something in her system has gone awry. Is that why her heart feels like it's about to hop right out of her chest? Is that why she can't stop wondering what would've happened if she'd stayed at the Astronomy tower?

"Hey, wait up!” Harry calls loudly as they walk up the stone steps leading away from the dungeons and into the main hallway, which is bustling with students.

[Y/N], who had been walking far too fast in front of the three, looks back over her shoulder and sees that they're a few feet away. She stops, seemingly flustered, and waits for them to catch up.

"You look like you've wet your pants," says Ron.

"I’m not you, Ron," she retorts.

"Oh, can you two please stop bickering for once?" says Hermione, exasperated.

From behind the three, Draco Malfoy emerges from the potions classroom and begins walking up the stone steps. [Y/N]'s hands clench into fists at her side as she discretely presses her back to the stone wall at her sides.

The blond doesn't even as much as glance at Ron, Harry, and Hermione as he passes by them on the steps. [Y/N], however—once Malfoy has reached the step below the one she's standing on, he pauses, no less than two feet away from her, and quirks an eyebrow.

"What?" [Y/N] scowls, trying not to look at the strand of blond hair dangling in front of his eyes.

Malfoy’s gaze dances over her face. "Was it you?"

She meets her friends' eyes over Malfoy's shoulder. Ron and Harry have their eyebrows raised; Hermione looks concerned. [Y/N] takes a moment to compose herself—tries to force her heart back into her chest—before she folds her arms across her chest and looks at the Slytherin. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"At the Astronomy tower," Malfoy says, and moves up one step so that he's standing on the same one she's on. A foot away. "I heard someone last night, while I was waiting for you."

Oh, Merlin.

"You came, didn't you?" he presses on.

"No," [Y/N] lies, and hates how defensive she sounds. She shifts a little on her feet, her eyes skirting away to look at a random spot behind Malfoy. "I was.. at the library. Doing things of actual importance."

There’s a slight pause as Malfoy's nose wrinkles. "Must’ve been someone else spying on me, then," he finally says through a scoff, but [Y/N] knows disappointment when she sees it. He rolls his shoulders back and puts on his signature smirk, inclining his head towards her as he takes another step up the stairs. "Better hurry and give me an answer, [Y/N]," he tells her, grinning. "Before one of my admirers get to me first."

[Y/N] watches as he walks up the steps and disappears into the hallway.

"The library?" a voice says incredulously. She turns back to Ron, whose face is scrunched in disbelief. "No, you weren't! We were waiting for you there and you never came."

[Y/N] folds her arms across her chest indignantly but doesn't respond, instead walking up the stone steps.

"Malfoy said he was waiting for you at the Astronomy tower," says Hermione slowly as they trail after her; [Y/N] speeds up her pace. "Is that why you mentioned going there during dinner last night?"

[Y/N] emerges into the main corridor first. "No, I didn't."

"Yes, you did!" bursts Ron, sounding downright triumphant.

"Congratulations, Ron, you don't have the memory range of a teaspoon, after all," [Y/N] mutters, looking around. Malfoy is walking down the hallway a few feet ahead of them, Crabbe and Goyle at his side.

Ron ignores her. "I bet you did go. I bet you did spy on him—" And then he gasps, looking as though he's unearthed the secret of life. "Merlin’s beard, you really do fancy him, don't you?"

[Y/N]'s footsteps falter. Ron, Harry, and Hermione stop right with her.

Hermione is the only one who doesn't look stunned out of her mind. Looking between the two boys, she rolls her eyes and scoffs. "Honestly, is that so hard to believe?" says Hermione, frowning. "I understand that it's Malfoy and he is a prick, but [Y/N] is perfectly entitled to fancy whoever she likes." She turns to [Y/N]. "It’s fine, [Y/N], you don't have to feel guilty about it. Anyone would catch feelings if someone started doing such sweet things for them, even if it were someone like Malfoy."

"Blimey," says Harry, breathless. "Which part sealed the deal, [Y/N]? The pick-up lines? Or was it the cupcakes?"

[Y/N], who had been opening and closing her mouth like a fish blown out of water, finally stops trying to find words that just aren't there and instead drags her palm across her face in frustration. "I don't.." she says, sounding defeated, but really—now that she's faced with such confrontation, it's easier to admit to herself that maybe.. maybe she does fancy Malfoy.

Ron’s lips have split into a jubilant grin. ”I called it!" he says, smacking Harry's shoulder. "Bloody knew it!"

Hermione reaches out to rub [Y/N]'s back. "Don’t feel too bad about it, [Y/N]. I sort of knew—you looked at him differently after he confessed to you on the pitch."

[Y/N] sighs, realizing that no amount  of denying it will convince her friends. Or herself.

She does fancy Malfoy.

Properly acknowledging it—finally admitting it to herself—is oddly relieving. She’s been keeping her feelings cooped up inside of her chest despite the fact they are so much bigger than her, and now that she's letting them burst free.. now that she's coming to terms with them..

Well. It’s not the worst feeling ever.

Ron is still beaming, looking as though he's won the lottery. And apparently, in a way, he has: "Fred and George said it'd take you a month longer to give in. I said it'd take you less—guess I’ve won myself two galleons!"

[Y/N]'s mouth falls open. "You bet on this?"

Ron raises his eyebrows, as though surprised to hear that she didn't know. "Uh, I and the entire bloody castle."

Struck by a sudden burst of both annoyance and confidence, [Y/N], scowling, detaches herself from her friends and strides down the hallway towards Malfoy, full of intent. He hasn't noticed her yet; his back is still turned, but she catches up to him easily. And when she does, she unceremoniously bumps her shoulder into his and grabs his hand, quickly interlacing her fingers through his.

"What the hell—"

Malfoy, obviously taken aback, tries to pull his hand away, sneering, until his gaze lands on [Y/N].

"Keep walking, Malfoy," she says scathingly, not quite looking at him.

Baffled, Malfoy stares at her, then down at their hands, which are now tightly interlocked between them. [Y/N] scowls resolutely at the hallway ahead of her.

And then Malfoy laughs, more out of disbelief than amusement.

"Keep walking," [Y/N] repeats, this time turning to look at him, fighting to keep her gaze indifferent. The last thing she wants Malfoy to know is that there is an onslaught of tiny little butterflies rampaging in her stomach and a tingly feeling spreading from their hands all the way up her spine and into her heart.

Malfoy’s lips tug up into a wide grin—a real one, [Y/N] thinks. Not an arrogant smirk or a deprecating sneer; one that she can't ever recall seeing. But now that she has, she finds herself wishing he'd do it more often.

[Y/N] tugs him along as she walks, feeling the stunned stares of her friends boring into her skull from behind. (Ron is going to have a field day about this.)

"So," Malfoy begins, and she doesn't have to look at him to know that he's still grinning down at her. "Changed your mind, haven't you?"

[Y/N] rolls her eyes; she doesn't fail to notice the way that the students they're passing by are staring at them, eyes wide, whispering to themselves. "Isn’t this what you wanted?"

Malfoy shrugs. "Among other things."

She side-eyes him, muttering, "Does that include snogging?"

He makes an amused sound at the back of his throat. "You said it, not me."

[Y/N] has to grit her teeth to stop the corners of her lips from tugging up. They turn a corner down the hallway, disappearing from both their friends' views (assuming they haven't followed them). At this thought, [Y/N] takes a brief glance over her shoulder—and sure enough, there's a redhead peeking out of a group of very confused Ravenclaws.

Cursing Ron Weasley inside her head, she turns her gaze back ahead of her. ”I have Charms class next."

Malfoy raises his brows. "And what do you expect me to do with that information?"

"Walk me there," says [Y/N] briskly.

She can practically feel the surprise radiating off of the blond next to her. A moment later, he throws his head back in a loud laugh. "And you want me to be late to Transfiguration? It’s all the way on the other side of the castle."

[Y/N] hums. "Can’t even do that for the girl you fancy?"

There’s a beat of silence. His grip on her hand falters a little as he says, voice still nonchalant and yet at the same time holding an undeniable sense of sincerity, "I could if I knew she wasn't leading me on."

"She isn't," [Y/N] says, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye.

Malfoy is staring at her with his brows pulled in together just slightly at the middle, giving off the impression that he's trying to decide whether or not she's being serious. He slows down his pace until he comes to a full stop, urging [Y/N] to halt alongside him until they're standing in the middle of the hallway, oblivious to the stares following them and the redhead a mere few feet away.

"How do I know this isn't a prank?" says Malfoy, lip slowly curling as he narrows his eyes at her, the first few traces of suspicion etching itself onto his face now that the whole ridiculousness of the situation has finally sunken in. [Y/N] can't blame him; her antics—suddenly marching up to him in the hallway, grabbing his hand and walking with him as though they've been doing it for years—all of it is uncalled for after having ruthlessly turned him down so many times before. But [Y/N] can't delve into a discussion of her conflicting emotions—at least not right now—so she hopes, at least for now, that he will take her word for it.

She clears her throat.  "Well," she begins, looking down at their hands; Malfoy’s grip has gone slack. "If I wanted to hold your hand, I’d do it because I wanted to. Not because I wanted to get a rise out of you." She lets her gaze go back up to his, brows rising in familiar challenge. "I don't stoop that low, Malfoy. You’ve been in love with me for years—shouldn't you know that by now?"

There are a few seconds in which the blond standing before her still looks at her with a scrutinizing gaze, lips set into a thin, hard line and his eyes swimming with conflict that [Y/N] wouldn't have been able to see from afar, but sees in perfect clarity now that she's standing a mere foot away from him. But then, after what feels like ages, Malfoy nods, slowly, frown smoothing out into an expression of—could that be relief?

"I will be late for Transfiguration, you know," he says, lips quirking up into a grin.

[Y/N] laughs. (A real one, Draco thinks to himself.) This time she doesn't try to stop herself from smiling; just lets her lips do so of their own accord. It feels nice. Freeing. "Better just one of us than two, don't you think?" she says, mirroring his playful grin. "And besides, Goyle can stand in for you. You two do have quite the resemblance."

"Oh, sod off."

And it really is very odd, because everything about this shouldn't feel right; they've been enemies for the longest time, and a year ago, [Y/N] would have been revolted at the mere idea of ever coming close to Draco Malfoy—but it does. That is, it feels right. Like they've been this way for ages and this playful, harmless banter is the most natural thing.

Draco isn't perfect—Merlin, does he have a long way to go—but if he means to stop being a prat as long as [Y/N] is at his side, then she is willing to venture into whatever has formed between them.

And if this little bond is going to involve any more of this—this being her and Draco exaggeratedly swinging their arms between them as he walks her to Charms class with their fingers still intertwined, snickering, waiting for one of them to start complaining about their arm sockets hurting—then maybe it isn't the worst thing ever, after all.

[likeshipsonthesea]

mianmian gets to the lan sect lectures, discovers very quickly that every one of her peers has decided to use this time to figure out how quickly they can get into bed with someone of the opposite sex, and decides almost immediately that she has to pick a suitably unattainable guy to have a crush on.

the thing is, mianmian is lanling jin’s head disciple. she is capable, intelligent, and very very gay. the last of these things she isn’t exactly keen on telling people yet for a variety of reasons up to and including jin zixuan will be so awkward and stubbornly supportive about it and she doesn’t know how to deal with that yet

so when her friends giggle over the other young masters and finally turn to mianmian-- who’s trying to memorize at least some of the fifty-thousand rules before their quiz tomorrow--and they ask her, “who do you like, mianmian?” she says the name that she carefully picked out of a handful of options.

“lan-er-gongzi,” she says, without looking up from her textbook, and she assumes that will be the end of it. 

lan wangji is both incredibly attractive and unrelentingly resistant to all attempts to flirt with him. she, like half the other female cultivators, can moon over him (or pretend to moon over him) all they want and nothing will come of it. it’s perfect. she’s a genius. the worst she’ll have to do now is pretend to be infatuated with him when her friends start gossiping. it’s fool proof.

spoiler: it’s not

it’s not, no, because her friends are horrible and immediately start gossiping about it to everyone, and usually mianmian wouldn’t care but then jin zixuan finds out. jin zixuan, whose marriage complex is being brought to center stage with the forced proximity to his bride-to-be. jin zixuan, who for some reason decided he has to live his stolen crush-addled youth vicariously through his only real friend that isn’t related to him. jin zixuan, who for some godforsaken reason takes it upon himself to contrive situations for mianmian and lan wangji to be alone together incessantly.

it unfortunately takes mianmian longer than she would like to figure out what’s happening. she’d give herself a break for it-- she was being responsible and studying, thank you very much-- but she doesn’t have much sympathy for her own stupidity seeing as she’s currently locked in a section of the lan library with the second jade of lan

and suddenly, suddenly she’s just so fucking tired. of studying, yeah, the tests here are brutal and there’s no one to bribe to make sure she doesn’t lose points on stupid things, but also tired of lying to the people she loves and tired of training this hard and being an amazing cultivator only for people to care more about her eventual marriage-- to a man of all things!-- and also, let’s be real here, she’s been in lectures with beautiful capable intelligent women for like months and she’s losing her gay ass mind

and so maybe, possibly, as she’s locked in a library with a clearly confused and annoyed second jade of lan she kind of, momentarily, loses it and rants all of this at his steadily widening eyes

at the end of it, she realizes with no small amount of panic that she’s just confessed not only her attraction to women but the fact that she’s been letting wen qing’s ears of all things distract her from her studies. if anything, she’s sure lan wangji will fault her for inattention

but the second jade of lan, after a drawn-out moment filled only with mianmian’s labored breathing and rising panic, simply says, “i understand.”

mianmian stops. she squints. she tilts her head. she squints some more. lan wangji’s ears go pink and just like that she realizes -- “you’re a cut-sleeve.”

lan wangji’s ears go even pinker. he doesn’t nod, or agree, or outwardly react in any way, but mianmian is a capable, intelligent cultivator, and she’s sure of it.

mianmian sighs with a relief she didn’t know she could feel. “thank the gods.”

lan wangji doesn’t seem to know what to make of this response, or mianmian’s increasingly frequent trips to the library following their conversation, or mianmian’s staunch determination to befriend the guy, but that’s alright. mianmian is old hat at befriending awkward sect heirs by this point.

it’s not like lan wangji expressed any desire for her friendship, but the prospect of not being the only one with absolutely no interest in the straight shenanigans happening at gusu lan summer camp is enough to let mianmian ignore his obvious confusion. lan wangji is a great listener and only sometimes blushes when mianmian waxes poetic about the beautiful women she’s forced to surround herself with every day

“no but you don’t understand,” mianmian insists, alone in the library with lan wangji, “jiang-guniang asked me to help her with a sword form. i put my hands on her waist. i said something idiotic bc she was so pretty and right there and then she laughed. lan wangji. i’m in love.”

“yesterday you were in love with wen-guniang,” lan wangji says as he impassively turns a page in his book. “has this changed?”

“no, i’m in love with both of them. all of them. lan wangji. they’re all so pretty all the time. it’s horrible.”

lan wangji presses his lips into a firmer line, which mianmian’s come to understand means he’s repressing a smile. “i’m sorry to hear it brings luo-guniang such trouble.”

mianmian groans, fairly undignified, but that’s a lost cause with lan wangji at this point anyway. “i swear, if jin zixuan says one more bad thing about her i’m going to punch him and marry her myself.”

lan wangji says, “mn,” which mianmian takes to mean that he supports her in this line of thinking, which she finds both quite sweet and ridiculously funny.

grinning, she teases, “lan-er-gongzi, if i do end up marrying jiang-guniang, will you bear witness to our elopement?”

lan wangji’s lips press again, this time in the way that means he’s repressing a frown. “jiang-guniang’s brothers wouldn’t allow for an elopement,” he says.

mianmian huffs. “as if yunmeng or lanling will deign to host our wedding.”

lan wangji appears to ponder this for a moment before he says, “gusu will host it,” and it’s at that moment that mianmian realizes she’s actually gone and fucking befriended the second jade of lan.

what is her life.

of course, it’s not long after that that she goes to find jin zixuan and explain that she can’t make their weekly sparring match today because she has plans with lan wangji (jiang yanli tenderly brushed some of mianmian’s hair away from her forehead while they were working on sword forms and if mianmian doesn’t tell someone about it she’s literally going to explode) and she’s trying to be as polite as possible only for jin zixuan to scoff and pout (”i don’t pout”) and say, “i never took you for one of those women who throw themselves so wantonly at a man”

it’s only for having been friends with this absolutely horrible communicator for most of her life that she doesn’t immediately punch him in the face. “what did you just say to me,” she demands, but jin zixuan just sets his jaw and looks away, flushing down his neck in the way his mother describes as unbecoming and--

and mianmian suddenly realizes that her ridiculous best friend is jealous of lan wangji. 

(in a friend way, of course, he’s like her brother, the one time his mother implied that he ought not get too close to women in case it jeopardizes his betrothal to jiang yanli, he insisted he didn’t have any female friends repeatedly as his mother delicately danced around outright saying mianmian’s name until finally she broke and jin zixuan was basically like huh?? mianmian doesn’t count?? she made me eat dirt like six times when we were kids)

the sheer ridiculousness of jin zixuan, to set her up with a guy and then get jealous when she spends all her time with him

and fuck her, but she loves her stupid awkward ridiculous sect heir best friend and she doesn’t want him to think she’s gone and left him for someone else (gods know jin zixuan’s loyalty complex rivals his marriage one (on second thought the two might be connected)) and so, after making a few quick decisions, mianmian grabs her stupid best friend by the wrist and pulls him to the library

he protests all the way there, but he’s been letting her drag him wherever she wants since they were five and it isn’t as if he’s going to break the pattern now. she drags him to the library and sits him down across a startled lan wangji and then finally breaks and gushes about jiang-guniang’s fingertips brushing her forehead and doesn’t look at jin zixuan once the whole time

lan wangji, on the other hand, sends jin zixuan frequent glances, as if worried on mianmian’s behalf, which is super sweet and also how the fuck did mianmian get two awkward sect heirs to care about her platonically wtf. she spares a thought for her poor auntie, who would’ve loved to have a sect heir care about her niece in much less platonic ways.

at the end of mianmian’s rant, jin zixuan is blinking quite a lot. “you like women?” he asks. he’s always been a bit slow on the uptake. mianmian nods. “you like jiang-guniang?”

mianmian shrugs. “more or less. she’s just really pretty and i’m dying about it. it’s fine.”

lan wangji says, “mn,” sympathetically and jin zixuan continues to gape.

mianmian winces. “you’re not going to be weird about this, are you?”

jin zixuan shakes his head quickly. “no, no-- of course not, i--you know that i--you’re my best friend, i don’t care--what does it matter to me, who you want to--to touch your hair.”

it’s probably the most awkward sentence he’s said to her in years, but possibly more articulate than she’d been expecting. it makes her tear up regardless and she punches him in the shoulder to hide it, and that’s basically how the three of them start hanging out in the library nearly every day after lecture.

sometimes they go to the sparring ground, bc who’s better sparring practice than the second jade of lan? and sometimes (once or twice) mianmian manages to convince lan wangji to join her and jin zixuan for lunch in caiyi town when they don’t have lecture, but mostly they meet in a secluded part of the library where mianmian can rant about how pretty all the women at lectures are, jin zixuan can turn pink whenever she mentions jiang-guniang, and lan wangji can “mn” and nod sympathetically at all the right parts

and mianmian thinks that’s going to be the end of it, they’re just going to be friends now and everything else will move on as usual, bc by some ridiculous trick of fate lan wangji and jin zixuan seem to like each other. which makes sense in hindsight bc they’re both awkward sect heirs who care about cultivation and people a lot even if they’re not great at showing it 

(and he’d never say it but mianmian thinks jin zixuan’s easy acceptance of her liking women is probably the first time lan wangji’s ever seen someone accept that kind of thing before (maybe, possibly, other than his brother, lan xichen seems really cool, even if he does smile kind of intensely at mianmian whenever he happens upon her hanging out with his little brother.))

so they’re friends, they’re unexpected friends, and sometimes lan wangji even makes jokes in that dry deadpan way of his and sometimes jin zixuan doesn’t completely trip over his own words and manages to act like a normal human being and mianmian gets two idiots to care about and a perfect place to vent her womanly frustrations, and she thinks that’s the end of it and then wei wuxian accosts her after lectures one day

“do you like lan zhan?” he asks accusingly, eyes narrowed to slits. “what am i even asking, of course you like lan zhan, but do you like-like him?”

mianmian thinks sadly to herself that she’s much too into women to be dealing with all these men’s emotional problems. “lan wangji is my friend,” she says, carefully sidestepping wei wuxian, who continues to squint at her suspiciously. really, he’d been amusing when he flirted with her, but this? this is just ridiculous.

“does he know that?” wei wuxian asks. “because if he doesn’t, that’s just leading him on, and it’s really not nice to--”

“lan wangji knows we’re friends,” she says, trying to enunciate to get her point across clearly. “you can ask him, if you don’t believe me.”

wei wuxian squints a moment longer before he turns and flounces off. mianmian thinks this is the end of it until she’s accosted again after dinner with, “he said you were friends!”

for some reason, wei wuxian seems even more troubled by this than earlier. mianmian tries to suppress her eyeroll. “i told you he would?”

“but how,” wei wuxian says, suddenly whining. “i’ve been trying to be his friend for months and he refuses to acknowledge me.”

oh, mianmian realizes with a quickly dawning horror. she and lan wangji are not the only cut-sleeves at cloud recesses this summer. (she has suspicions, of course, but no confirmations on any of the others, but this. wow.)

she also realizes, decides really, that she has enough repressed sect heirs in her life and she cannot deal with wei wuxian’s cut-sleeve crisis or his evidently large attachment to lan wangji right now. she turns decisively and walks the fuck away. not her problem.

the lectures end eventually, of course, and mianmian and jin zixuan return to lanling with a horde of golden robed disciples, freshly deflowered and not all together more learned. it’s what, she thinks grimly, their sect leader would want.

the first few weeks go by and she realizes that she’s missed unloading about her frequent and fast falling-in-loves. jin zixuan just doesn’t sympathize right, bless him, and so mianmian takes to writing letters. she sends two without receiving a reply and just starts to write the third when a letter with the gusu symbol is delivered to her room.

she’s almost expecting to find a single mn written on the page-- she would’ve been delighted with just that, actually, the sheer hilarity of such a thing-- but instead she finds several pages filled with lan wangji’s perfect calligraphy.

it’s more than he’s ever spoken out loud, but it seems that propriety dictated that he return mianmian’s extensive letter with one of his own and he’s done so admirably. he responds to the events mianmian detailed in her letters-- most succinctly summarized as, woman are gorgeous and i’m dying-- and then writes about his own life in cloud recesses. apparently, he went on a little night hunt with wei wuxian and also nie huaisang and jiang cheng were involved? seriously, mianmian misses out on all the fun.

he’s also apparently taken in some rabbits, which mianmian immediately decides she needs to see. lan wangji, sitting prim and proper, with a bunch of rabbits in his lap? amazing. wei wuxian would die on sight, she’s sure of it.

he also ends his letter with a warning about qishan wen that has mianmian frowning. she takes it to jin zixuan who reads the paragraph and frowns. “i’ll talk to my father about it,” he says, which she can tell by his hunched shoulders he doesn’t expect to do much.

“talk to your father’s general too,” she suggests, because that man at least thinks with his head and not his dick.

jin zixuan nods but doesn’t hand back the letter. he skims it instead with a barely concealed surprise at lan wangji’s previously hidden expansive vocabulary. mianmian snorts and grabs the letter back. “you can write to him yourself, you know.”

jin zixuan flushes down his neck. “i know!” he insists and then turns and runs away because he’s a coward. mianmian shakes her head, smiling. what an idiot.

still, another week goes by and a letter arrives from gusu and, when mianmian takes it, assuming it’s for her, she finds it addressed to jin zixuan in lan wangji’s impeccable calligraphy and she grins to herself like an idiot. look at jin zixuan, making friends

(she suddenly understands why lan xichen gave her all those intense smiles during the lan lectures)

they go on in this way, writing letters to lan wangji from lanling. sometimes mianmian steals jin zixuan’s letters before he sends them so she can squeeze in some ranting in the post script without wasting a whole second thing of paper, and lan wangji replies dutifully, more verbose than he ever was in person, and it’s nice okay, like. she and jin zixuan have been best friends since they were kids but neither of them has ever been any good at listening and lan wangji is just so honest and earnest in everything, like they didn’t realize that people outside of lanling were actually not always plotting your downfall??? who woulda thunk

and then of course the wens go and ruin everything. they go to the wen lectures bc jin guangshan doesn’t want to “anger our trading partner” like the guy isn’t obviously going to burn carp tower to the ground the first chance he gets, and mostly mianmian and jin zixuan are just vaguely annoyed and put out about it

then lan wangji shows up with a broken leg and a burned sect and they are ready to murder some dudes

after years of breaking in and out of carp tower she and jin zixuan are old hats at this breaking and entering stuff and they manage to sneak into lan wangji’s guest quarters and tend to his wounds, ignoring all his silent glares and ranting furiously about how they’re going to murder wen chao by making him choke on his own dick (mianmian) and how they’re going to war with the wen sect even if he has to threaten his father with acknowledging all of his bastards as proper siblings in public to do it (jin zixuan)

lan wangji just says “mn” and makes various muted, distressed expressions, but mianmian thinks he’s touched.

“are your brother and uncle alright?” she asks, when she’s set his broken leg and forced pain medication down his throat.

“brother escaped with our sacred texts,” lan wangji says. “uncle is... unwell.”

mianmian knows lan wangji hates touch but the way he says it, with this horrible little frown, emoting more than she’s ever seen him, his barely suppressed anger and grief literally making his hands shake into fists, mianmian can’t help it, she hugs him. “we’ll make them pay,” she swears into his shoulder, ruining the lines of his robes with how she clutches at them. “i promise you.”

jin zixuan awkwardly pats lan wangji’s shoulder, which is a lot for him and mianmian spares a moment to be proud of his growth.

unfortunately, wen chao seems to delight in torturing lan wangji on his injured leg and lan wangji refuses to show weakness, which both impresses mianmian and pisses her the fuck off. she approaches wen qing (and her still gorgeous ears, sigh) and asks her to tend to lan wangji, since she’s like actually a doctor. wen qing does bc she’s beautiful, intelligent, and kind and mianmian spends most of that night sighing deeply as she relates this to a significantly drugged lan wangji

the cave of the xuanwu goes about the same as you’d expect. wei wuxian saving her from getting her face branded off is pretty rad of him, though he could’ve just like knocked the brand away instead of throwing himself in front of it but whatever, you do you boo. when lan wangji gets left behind the two of them don’t even have to wait for jiang cheng to grumble and ask for their help, they’re already on their way to carp tower for an army, thank you very much

when they rescue wei wuxian and lan wangji and lan wangji immediately turns to walk back to cloud recesses on a broken leg mianmian says, “fuck no, that’s not happening, you’re getting medical attention and then someone will fly you back home, okay, wtf wangji, sit down.”

and lan wangji is a stubborn bitch so obvs he’s like no but he’s also severely starved, dehydrated, and injured, so it’s not like he can just shake off mianmian holding him down and this goes on long enough for wei wuxian to wake up and see mianmian touching lan wangji, and something in his poor little brain just like breaks and he demands says, “lan zhan, come back to lotus pier with us.”

his argument, as he explains it, is that lotus pier is closer (it’s not; they’re just as close to carp tower as lotus pier) and that it’s closer to gusu for when lan wangji has to return home (it’s not; same deal) but then jiang cheng starts yelling, possibly in support possibly not mianmian’s not sure, and jin zixuan starts getting awkward, probably about the whole golden army behind him bc he’s a nerd and hates being overdressed at functions (this is basically the same thing), and mianmian looks at lan wangji and she sees--

something. she isn’t sure what exactly, but lan wangji looks at wei wuxian as he argues with his brother and he presses his lips into a thin line in the way that means he wants to smile and mianmian thinks, oh. maybe wei wuxian isn’t completely unrequited in his lan wangji obsession.

growing up in lanling, she knows how to use information to her advantage, so she immediately says, “young masters wei and jiang, what a great idea. lanling’s disciples would be pleased to accompany you and second young master lan to lotus pier to ensure everyone’s safe arrival.”

everyone splutters, indignant, confused, awkward (jiang cheng, wei wuxian, and jin zixuan, respectively) but lan wangji narrows his eyes at mianmian and doesn’t try to convince her to let him walk to gusu again, so she counts it as a win.

sect leader jiang and his wife seem surprised and annoyed, respectively, to be taking in so many guests, but sect leader jiang merely smiles pleasantly and directs them to some guest quarters and mianmian and wei wuxian ask, simultaneously, for doctors to tend to lan wangji and wei wuxian makes a face at her and mianmian sighs to herself that she really is too gay to be in the middle of his thing with lan wangji.

turns out, walking a lot and fighting a cannibalistic turtle on a broken leg doesn’t do wonders for healing. lan wangji is also the worst patient ever, he keeps trying to sneak out and get up even though word came from his brother that he’s safe and alright and that cloud recesses is starting to rebuild after qinghe nie and lanling jin came to its aid and pushed out the wen

but with the combined efforts of mianmian, jin zixuan, and wei wuxian (and even jiang yanli at one point, bc who could say no to her soup??) they manage to get lan wangji to just rest for a fucking second, really which results in the jin disciples and lan wangji staying in lotus pier for longer than anyone could’ve expected

mianmian spends most of her time (when she isn’t forcing lan wangji to just fucking stay in bed) working with the jiang disciples, practicing archery, sword forms, and mooning after all the beautiful women here.

(”lan wangji, i know she’s scary, but have you seen madam yu? she could whip me with zidian and i’d thank her” “luo-guniang, please don’t ask madam yu to whip you” OR “lan wangji, i’m almost positive madam yu’s maids are a thing, do you think they’d let me join them just like once” “luo-guniang, could you please pass me my sword?” “why” “i’d like to put myself out of this misery” OR “she made me soup. lan wangji. lan wangji, i know you’re not sleeping, wake up, you have to listen to me, this soup”)

they end up staying so long that when wang lingjiao shows up threatening a child about a kite while sect leader jiang is away, she has a lot more to deal with than madam yu. since none of this had been a “sanctioned visit” no one actually knew that there was nearly an entire troop of jin disciples staying at lotus pier, so when the wens attack they are sorely unprepared for what they’re going to face.

(and ofc lan wangji breaks out of bed heroically and keeps madam yu from whipping wei wuxian, which means they aren’t down one of their most powerful fighters and mianmian has to suffer through the moon eyes they’re making at one another in the middle of a battle no less, she knew wei wuxian had no shame but she’d been hoping lan wangji would have some)

after the wen attack (and defeat) on lotus pier and the jin’s inarguable part in it, the war starts in earnest. lan wangji, after his long rest, heals fine and goes back to gusu to help rebuild his sect and plan for war, and mianmian and jin zixuan return to carp tower to plan as well, ignoring jin guangshan and focusing instead on his general to ensure lanling supplies necessary aid in the war effort

and war is always shitty, of course, and mianmian hates watching her sect family die on the battlefield, hates waiting for updates after every battle to see who’s still alive, hates the politics and jin guangshan trying to wheedle his way out of fighting when there’s fucking lives on the line

(and she could never know, how much easier it is, with yunmeng jiang at its full strength, with one of the brightest minds of their generation there to plot and help, with two of the best fighters not out searching for someone and instead focused on the front)

they reach nightless city after months of fighting and mianmian is ready to just fucking stab wen ruohan herself when they’re suddenly trapped. blocked in on all sides by puppets, their fallen soldiers rising again to turn on them, and it--it looks like they’re gonna die.

“this sucks,” she says to lan wangji, stifling her fear and choking it down. “i never even got to kiss a girl.”

lan wangji just says “mn.”

jin zixuan, beside them, says, “i was an idiot about jiang-guniang.”

lan wangji just says, “mn.”

then wei wuxian pulls out a fucking flute and a-- floating piece of metal?  the army of puppets and corpses stops advancing, held in place by-- music, apparently? and wen ruohan emerges from his lair, black energy falling off him in waves, wei wuxian the idiot flies forward to meet him, gets wen ruohan’s hand around his throat for his trouble.

lan wangji yells, “wei ying!” and mianmian thinks, really not fair that lan wangji is gonna get a boyfriend before i get a girlfriend

and then wen ruohan gets stabbed by jin zixuan’s half brother of all people. wen ruohan, along with his puppets and wei wuxian, fall to the ground. lan wangji rushes forward to catch wei wuxian, mianmian runs after him, finds herself in company with jin zixuan and jiang cheng. when they get there, wei wuxian is barely conscious but he’s-- he’s fucking grinning up at lan wangji from the cradle of lan wangji’s arms

“lan zhan,” he says, “you caught me.”

lan wangji nods, says, “mn,” which is basically his equivalent of i’ll always catch you, wei ying.

“really,” mianmian says aloud, “it’s so unfair.”

the aftermath of the war is more annoying than the war itself, what with all the politics and in-fighting and jin guangshan trying to be the biggest dick there ever was. jin guangshan tries to name himself chief cultivator in wen ruohan’s stead but nie mingjue suggests jiang fengmian instead and the lan sect backs him. jin guangshan tries to demonize the wens but at wei wuxian’s loud rebuttal and sect leader jiang’s backing (which is then backed by both gusu lan and qinghe nie) he’s once again shouted down. and then jin guangshan tries to propose to jiang-guniang for his son and the poor woman just seems so awkward and her father doesn’t seem to know what to say and--

mianmian elbows jin zixuan whose eyes widen ridiculously but, after another, harder hit, he suddenly stands. all eyes go to him, which mianmian knows he hates, but he bows to his father, then jiang yanli, and says, “jiang-guniang, forgive my father’s impertinence. this is not the time or place to be making such an offer, but he--” jin zixuan winces visibly. “--he knows of my feelings and wishes to make his foolish son happy. please, do not feel the need to respond.”

then he promptly sits down, flushing down to his neck, and mianmian shares a disbelieving glance with lan wangji from across the horrible nightless city palace room.

she’d really only meant for him to suggest jiang yanli answer privately, at a later time, but wow, jin zixuan really went for it. also no way jin guangshan knows his son has fallen in love with jiang yanli, so nice save face there. maybe he has been paying attention in all of their etiquette and political espionage classes.

jiang yanli flushes way prettier than jin zixuan and nods politely, stands and bows and thanks the jin clan for being considerate in this time of turmoil, perhaps they can discuss this matter at a later date (jin zixuan looks like he nearly faints at this, and mianmian feels vindicated in all her forlorn ranting. overreacting her ass)

when everything has been settled, wen qing has been appointed the new sect leader of qishan wen with promises to return land to those who lost it and pay reparations to the hurt civilians, as well as have the yin iron destroyed for good. during the final ceremony where all the sects have tea and pledge to be loyal to one another (until the next great war, of course) mianmian leans close to lan wangji and sighs, “her ears look even lovelier with her hair tied back by her new sect leader hairpiece.”

lan wangji says “mn” because he’s a cut sleeve in love with wei wuxian and has nothing even closely resembling taste.

mianmian, on her own, decides to make them both happy. before the jin clan departs from nightless city, she goes up to wei wuxian and asks for a moment of his time. wei wuxian seems confused but follows and, once they’re alone, he says, “mianmian, are you about to get me into bed, because i must tell you that i am a respectable young cultivator and you’ll need to marry me before--”

mianmian gives him her best unimpressed look (she’s had much practice with it, thank you jin zixuan) and cuts him off with, “i like women.” 

wei wuxian’s eyes go wide. “but you and lan zhan--”

she cuts him off again before he can say something so stupid she has to stop talking to him to refrain from breaking all laws of propriety. “look,” she says, “you’re friends with wen qing. now that she’s sect leader, your brother can’t go after her. i, on the other hand, very much can. if you promise to figure out a way for me and her to get close, i’ll tell you a secret you’ll like very much.”

wei wuxian seems hesitant for all of half a second before he breaks. “tell me.”

“do you promise?”

wei wuxian raises three fingers. “promise.”

“on your sister’s life?”

begrudgingly, wei wuxian nods.

“on her soup?”

“just get on with it!”

mianmian smirks, pushes onto her tiptoes, and whispers the secret into wei wuxian’s ear. with that, she returns to the pavilion where all the sects mingle as they wait to depart, wei wuxian trailing behind her in a daze, his mouth hanging open.

lan wangji, who had been watching since mianmian asked wei wuxian for a moment to talk, frowns nearly imperceptibly. mianmian grins at him and his frown grows.

ah, whatever. she walks over to him, unbothered by the quickly growing alarm in his eyes. once next to him, she turns around to see wei wuxian staring unabashedly. her smile only widens.

“you’re going to thank me for this,” she says.

wei wuxian shakes himself, his eyes focusing, and immediately starts walking towards them.

lan wangji, voice flat but wavering, asks, “luo-guniang, what did you do?”

mianmian laughs, says, “i get to give a speech at your wedding,” and walks away just as wei wuxian reaches them.

(she does, actually, give a speech at their wedding. she may or may not be drunk during it, jin zixuan gets embarrassed for her, and she starts tearing up and has to hide it in the shoulder of her wife’s lovely well-tailored robes. it’s alright, though, wen qing doesn’t mind)

EDIT: now on AO3 with a real fic version from lwj’s pov!

[one-boring-person]

Heyy 😊👉🏼👈🏼 it’s me again... I know that I literally just requested one, and received, which you did a fantastic job on btw! I’m like in a Top Gun love state right now, and I wanna warn you like I will probably be like a repeat customer 😅 so if it is not too much to ask, whenever you feel like, could I have a maverickxreader where he admires reader from afar and Goose knows he likes her and messes with him and somehow Goose helps them get together 😘😘 I’m sorry if it’s too soon 🤞🏽❤️

Of course, I'm glad you liked the first one!!💛💛

Buy Her A Drink.

Pete "Maverick" Mitchell x reader

Warnings: alcohol consumption

Masterlist

"...Earth to Maverick? You there?" A familiar voice calls over the loud music, a hand waving in front of my face to get me to tear my eyes away from the point I'm staring at, my gaze easily finding Goose as he passes me a beer, smirking knowingly at me as he leans back against the bar.

"Where else would I be?" I respond, taking a deep drink from the bottle, my eyes quickly flicking back to the object of my focus, a sigh inadvertently escaping me as I watch her.

"In (Y/n)-dreamland, I reckon." The RIO points out, laughing as my head snaps round to face him, "Oh come on, you're not exactly being discreet!"

Frowning, I look down as a blush starts to creep up my neck, the bottle returning to my lips as I deny him.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Goose scoffs, rolling his eyes dramatically at the look on my face, looking over in the direction I was staring in, still grinning.

"Oh yeah? So you haven't been making heart eyes at her for the last month, hmm?" He lifts an eyebrow, nudging me as he gestures in (Y/n)'s direction, "Last time I checked, you haven't been able to get enough of her since we first got here."

"Stop it." I warn him, setting my jaw as he makes a noise of amusement.

"What? I'm just pointing out the facts." He grins widely at me, "Remember when we first flew together and you let her take the finishing shot? First time that's ever happened. And the time when we were playing volley ball altogether, when you let her win everytime?"

"I never let her take the first shot, or let her win. She's just a really good flyer, and she won all the games fair and square!" I protest, waving off his points as a blush continues to cover my cheeks, taking a sip of the beer to disguise it.

"Keep telling yourself that, Mav. I'm not the only one who remembers you getting all flustered that time when it was so hot her uniform was sticking to her skin. You couldn't keep your eyes off her." Goose remarks, leaning back against the bar with a conspiratorial smirk.

By now, my cheeks are probably bright red, my jaw clenched painfully as I recall that time, my eyes now finding the skilled pilot across the room from me, eyeing her as she jokes around with Iceman and Slider, the three of them having grown particularly close over our time at Top Gun. At the sight of them, I feel my teeth grind together, though I force myself to relax as I admire her appearance instead, subtly observing how her uniform hugs the curves of her body, and how her hair is neatly styled despite her more relaxed demeanor, the bottle in her hand appearing half empty from where I am. Her smile seems to light up the room as the three of them burst into laughter, her hand reaching out to rest against Iceman's arm in what is probably a purely platonic manner,

"Just buy her a drink or something, man. I'm sure she likes you back." My RIO encourages me, looking me in the eye as he says this, completely serious despite the grin still on his face.

"She looks happy enough with Ice and Slider." I grumble in response, finishing the rest of my beer in one long drag, turning and slamming the bottle on the bartop, trying to fight the urge to keep watching her, knowing I'm probably coming across as creepy.

"Oh come on, don't be like that, Mav! I think she'd much prefer your company. She does keep looking over, after all." Goose consoles me, wrapping an arm around my shoulders reassuringly as I look over at him.

"She doesn't." I murmur quietly.

"And how would you know?" He smirks again, knowing that I've been watching her nearly the entire night, "I tell you what, I'll help you out. Cath you later, man."

Before I can protest, he's gone, giving me one last part on the back as he goes, a few bills left on the counter for me to use, an unspoken rule we've always had: if trying to persuade the other to get a girl, we always pay for each other's first drinks. It helped get Carole and Goose together, but unfortunately it hasn't yet helped me. Growling to myself, I snatch up the notes and stuff them in my pocket, straightening and turning, banging into someone immediately, my hands instantly coming out to steady them as they yelp and stumble backwards, their drink spilling over our shirts.

My eyes widen as they find the person in my arms to be (Y/n), her own eyes locking with mine briefly, before she looks away, chuckling awkwardly, a blush dusting her cheeks, her own hands wiping at her front.

"Err, hey? Goose said you wanted to talk to me?" She questions me, looking up at me imploringly, features softer in the dim light, giving her a different appearance to the experienced pilot I know on the runway.

"Did he now?" I respond, fighting the urge to roll my eyes, "I'm really sorry about your drink. Want another? It's on me."

A grin spreads across her face at my offer, the pilot nodding softly at me as she moves to sit on a barstool beside me, uncaring of her now-damp uniform, telling me her order. Requesting it from the bartender, I scan the room for Goose, quickly locating him next to Sundown, shooting him a scowl as he lifts his bottle in salute, grinning at me.

"So what was it you wanted to say to me?" (Y/n) inquires as she receives her drink, eyeing me carefully as I adjust myself unsure of what to say.

"I think Goose made that up so you would come talk to me, actually." I admit, looking down at the bottle in my hand, embarrassment rendering me incapable of keeping eye contact with her.

"Oh." She giggles, the sound storing itself in my memory as she takes a drink, her smile wide and cheerful, not weirded out at all, "Well, at least he succeeded."

"True." I murmur, finally mustering the courage to lock eyes with her again, drowning in their warm depths.

For a few minutes, we sit there in silence, during which I start to doubt myself, my self esteem lowering even further as I struggle to come up with a topic of conversation, my head suddenly going blank for the first time in my life. Beside me, (Y/n) quietly drinks from the glass in front of her, clearly having the same problem as I am, fingers tracing idle patterns on the smooth counter. Looking over at her, I finally decide that I've had enough of this, turning to face her properly, drawing her attention to me almost immediately, confusion etched into her face.

"Goose got you to come over here because he wants me to admit to you that I like you, because he thinks that you like me back, which is ridiculous because I'm not your type at all, and I'm probably not what you're looking for, and I'm too nervous to make a move anyway, so he got you over here when he knows I've had a bottle or two of beer to loosen my tongue, so that I will finally confess to yo-" I gush out, rambling on as I try to organise my thoughts into one steady stream.

"Wait, you like me?" She suddenly cuts me off, having gauged something from the tirade of words.

I freeze in place before replying, unsure if how she'll react.

"...Yeah, I really do. I think you're amazing, the way you fly is incredible and you're a really nice person in general. You're sweet and funny, and I don't think I've ever come across someone who actually tolerates my flying style like you do, so yeah, I like you."

She is quiet for a minute or so, the suspense killing me as I prepare to make my excuses, ready to up and leave in case this now gets awkward. When she does speak, I try to expect the worst, knowing I'll be rejected.

"I mean I wish you'd told me sooner. At least the I could've spent less time fretting over whether you liked me back or not." She finally comments, remarks offhanded and surprising, my mind having to replay the words a few times before I actually understand what she means.

"You like me, too?!" I nearly exclaim in disbelief, happiness exploding inside me as she nods, reaching a hand over the table to lace our fingers together, a soft smile gracing our lips as we look at each other.

"I do, but you're gonna have to take me on a date before we make this official." (Y/n) chuckles, making eye contact with me.

"Well, in that case," I take her hand and press her knuckles to my lips, kissing the soft skin with a smirk, "Wanna go on a date with me?"

[fellulahh]

Hey! ❤️ your MC accidentally confessing to the brothers while drunk gave me life 🙏🏻 could you maybe do a part 2 of it where MC is sober again the next morning? 🥺❤️ have a nice day! 🥰❤️

Sorry this took me so long to do the other brothers/Diavolo! Unfortunately I can’t find the original post of when MC was drunk so I’ve included everything from it in this post😹

~

MC’s drunk and confesses her love for him, Part 2: the next morning (Asmo, Beel, Belphie and Diavolo)

Asmo

- MC and Asmo had been drinking together

- Like always, he drunk her under the table - she ended up getting absolutely wasted while he seemed like he hadn’t drunk a thing

- He can’t stop cooing over how smiley she is, she was definitely a happy drunk

- She’s also a little touchy

- Like she’s completely infatuated with Asmo when she’s sober, let alone drunk (only she hides is MUCH better when she hasn’t had a drink)

- She can’t stop pinching his cheeks, telling him how beautiful he is

- At first he was like ‘FINALLY someone notices’ but then after she keeps complimenting him, he actually starts to get flustered and a little shy

- But then she starts telling him she’s love him and then he gets REALLY shy

- Acts all cool around drunk MC saying things like ‘of course you love me, who doesn’t?’ But inside his heart is beating like mad

MC woke up in her bed with a sore head. She let out a loud groan when she heard a knock at her door. Soon Asmo appeared with a jug of cold water and a glass. MC’s eyes lit up at the sight.

“Oh Asmo you have no idea how happy I am to see you.” She sighed, sitting up slowly in her bed.

“If you’re happy to see me now I don’t know what exactly you were feeling last night.” He cooed as he reached her bed, sitting beside her. “MC! You didn’t take off your makeup!” He gasped.

She was too busy processing his first remark. There was definitely something more to his comment but she couldn’t work out what. Silently, she cursed to herself, praying she didn’t do anything embarrassing. Driving herself insane with her overthinking, she decided to ask him.

“Asmo?” She asked groggily.

“Yes MC?” He smiled brightly.

“Did I do anything embarrassing last night?” She asked hesitantly, unsure whether she wanted to hear the answer or not. Bringing up a full cup of water to her lips, she sipped gradually.

“Well let’s see...” he laughed, leaning on one hand as he pondered, “it depends really, MC. Do you consider your undying love for me embarrassing?”

MC spat out her water causing Asmo to jump back. “Sorry?” She asked quietly, making sure she heard him correctly.

“You told me you love me last night! I hope you don’t find that embarrassing, MC. I mean I can’t blame you for falling in love with me!” He gushed.

“Oh my goodness.” She sighed, flopping back onto the bed, “please kill me now.” She moaned as she took another sip of water.

“Kill you?!” Asmo asked shocked, “MC if I were to kill you then how on Earth am I going to tell you I love you too?!”

Once again MC spat out her drink at his words.

“Honestly MC, if you wanted me to know you’re a spitter there are other ways of showing me!” He shook his head before breaking out a smile.

Beel:

- Beel was heading to the kitchen to grab his 100th snack of the evening when he was surprised to see MC’s head in the fridge

- He’s even more surprised to see her munching on whatever food she can find, it’s like he was looking in the mirror

- “Are you okay?” He asks concerned

- “Beel!!” She squeals, standing up straight before pulling him into a hug “Mammon and I were drinking and I got kinda hungry” she spoke sheepishly “but I’m so glad you’re here!”

- She suddenly pulls out her secret stash of food she’d hidden “eat with me!” She grins

- Beel’s a little taken aback but he’s not going to turn down food and time with MC

- He chuckles at her as they sit down by the kitchen counter, he can’t help but notice her staring at him as he’s eating his food

- “What?” He asks amused, food stuffed in his mouth

- “You.” She smiles “I love you Beel.”

- “And I love you too, MC.” He grins, ruffling her hair

- “No, Beel. I’m in love with you.”

- *shocked silence*

As MC stepped into the dining room ready for breakfast, she was only met by Beel sat at the table. As soon as she saw him, she quickly tried to slip back out of the room unnoticed, knowing exactly what she’d said to him the night before. MC wanted to save the embarrassment of finding out her love was unrequited so she made her way into the kitchen to get some breakfast to go.

As she was rummaging through the cupboards, she heard the door open. “Hey MC - how come you ran off?”

‘Uh oh’

“Hi Beel.” She smiled sheepishly, turning around with red cheeks, “I’m not feeling great so I was just going to take some food upstairs to eat.”

“Oh that’s a relief.” He breathed, “I thought you were avoiding me because you told me you love me.” MC’s body froze and Beel noticed her sudden change of pace. “Unless...that is why you’re avoiding me?”

“Listen Beel I’m sorry.” She sighed, “I had a lot to drink and wasn’t thinking - I didn’t mean to tell yo—“

“Why are you worrying so much?” He interrupted, “I told you I love you too last night and you seemed really happy about it!”

MC tried to rack her brain for the memory but had no such luck. “You did?” She asked unsure.

“Yeah.” He chuckled, “I mean admittedly you then told me you’re in love with me and caught me by surprise...”

“Oh no.” She shook her head embarrassed.

“I didn’t think you felt that way about me.” He grinned, pulling her in for a really warm hug. MC was too shocked by his actions to say anything back. Cautiously, she slipped her arms around his body, hugging him too. “Do you wanna go and grab something to eat today?”

“Like a date?” MC asked against his chest confused.

“Yeah, like a date.” He smiled to himself.

Belphie:

- Belphie’s heading up to his room to go to bed for the night

- He does a double take when he opens the door and sees MC passed out

- He tries not to wake her but as soon as he sits on the bed she begins stirring

- “Hey! You came back” she smiles sleepily “Asmo and I got back from the club and I wanted to come and see you but you weren’t here!”

- She immediately snuggles into him

- He looks down at her in awe as she buries her face in his side

- “You are so comfy” she mumbles “why don’t we do this more often??”

- Belphie thinks MC is the purest lil thing he’s ever seen and can’t help the big smile on his face. He doesn’t think anything could make this moment better.

- “Have I ever told you I love you Belphie?”

- Never mind, that did.

MC woke up dazed and confused. She rolled over as her eyes adjusted. Soon her confusion turned into nerves when she realised she was in Belphie’s bed - and after remembering the events of the previous night those nerves turned into panic.

‘You idiot’ she thought to herself, recollecting the moment she told Belphie she loved him.

MC almost let out a scream when she felt someone stirring beside her. Emerging from the covers was Belphie. He rubbed his tired eyes with his fingers before facing MC.

“Oh hi MC.” He said simply.

“Belphie why am I in your bed?” She asked bewildered. She hadn’t even realised that she wasn’t alone under the covers.

“You fell asleep here last night, I went to go and sleep on the sofa downstairs but you woke up and demanded ‘I snuggle you’” he answered with a small smile.

“Yeah that sounds about right...” MC mumbled to herself, feeling more embarrassed with every second that passed. “I’m sorry you had to put up with me last night.”

“I’m not!” He laughed, “I rather enjoyed your drunkenness - drunk MC is a lot more honest that sober MC.”

She silently hoped he wasn’t referring to her confession. Perhaps she said something else while she was intoxicated that she hadn’t remembered?

“In fact can I ask you something?” He spoke with a cunning smile.

“Sure.” MC nodded, watching him intrigued.

“Have I ever told you I love you?” He asked with the cheekiest grin.

MC accidentally let out a gasp when he repeated her words from last night. “Belphie that’s not funny!” She scorned him.

“Answer the question!” He smiled.

“No.” MC answered unamused, “No you haven’t told me.”

“Well it’s true.” He spoke softly, flopping back onto the bed. A relieved smile spread across MC’s face. “You still want to snuggle?” He asked, holding out his arms.

“I’d like that.” She nodded, accepting his offer.

Diavolo:

- Diavolo pops over to the house of Lamentation to see how everyone is, not realising MC and some of the brothers were practically having a house party

- He’s sat in the lounge drinking tea with Lucifer when suddenly MC stumbles in

- “Diavolo!” She beams, seeing the Prince of Devildom in the room, she walks straight over to him, plonking her bottom in the space next to him

- Lucifer shakes his head amused, leaving the room

- “Well hello MC” he grins at her

- MC can’t stop staring at him, she’s absolutely mesmerised by his beauty

- “Have you been drinking?” He laughs at her

- “If I told you yes would you tell Lucifer?”

- Diavolo finds her hilarious

- “I’ve always had a soft spot for you, MC. You never fail to make me laugh.”

- When she hears his words she leans on his shoulder smiling “you’re so handsome. I’d love to take you home with me - my parents would love you.”

- Completely shocked, Diavolo can’t help but smiling as he pulls MC in for a tight hug

MC woke up in her bed as usual. Although she had a small headache, she still got dressed and made her way down for breakfast. As she approached the dining room she was surprised to hear Diavolo’s voice. Usually he goes back to the palace after paying a visit but he must have stayed in one of the spare bedrooms last night.

Stepping into the room, she was met by smiling faces. “Here she is!” Asmo cooed, “our little drunk human.”

“How did you know I was drinking last night?” She asked flustered.

“I might have mentioned it this morning.” Diavolo grinned, “come MC, I’ve saved you a seat next to me.”

“Okay.” She mouthed with a smile. She sheepishly made her way toward him, her heart fluttering over the fact that Diavolo wanted her to sit next to him. As she began serving herself up some food, he kept stealing glances at his exchange student.

MC noticed his stare and a blush soon appeared on her cheeks as she picked up her knife and fork. She quickly turned her head and shot him a subtle smile before anyone could notice.

“So MC.” Diavolo beamed as he leant back on his chair to smoothly put an arm around her shoulder. The brothers were surprised at the interaction as MC turned her face to listen to him. “When are you taking me home to meet your parents then?”

MC’s eyes widened. She’d completely forgotten about her comment the previous night.

“Diavolo!” She gasped causing him to laugh.

“Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten! I was looking forward to the visit.” He grinned, “especially after you told me I’m so handsome.” The brothers couldn’t believe their eyes as they watched their Prince flirt with MC. “Perhaps if you’re not actually ready for me to meet your parents you’ll entertain me by joining me for a drink at the palace this evening?”

[mc-lukanette]

42 Lukanette Thoughts

Marinette waiting until Luka’s birthday to give him a response to his confession. He’s absolutely “offended” and she’s just grinning at him.

Luka not being able to swim despite living on a boat. Bonus if Marinette invites him and Juleka out to the swimming pool one day and the absolute love-struck dork finds himself unable to say “no” to her. Juleka thinks it’s hilarious that he can’t just admit to Marinette that he can’t swim, so she has a blast constantly making everything worse, like telling Marinette that Luka doesn’t have a swimsuit so Marinette’ll end up making one for him.

Marinette thinking about the whole “LadyNoir” situation while she’s sketching in her notebook. She finds that she doesn’t even like the way her name meshes with Chat’s. One thought leads to another and she - while not even thinking - ends up writing “Lukanette” in her sketchbook. Cut to her hanging out with Luka later and showing him the designs she came up with that day, meaning that Luka ends up seeing “Lukanette” so casually written in her sketchbook.

Luka Knows™️ but also has to hide it because he can’t have Marinette thinking that he’s crushing on Ladybug. This eventually leads to him telling Ladybug that she can come to him at any time, which leads to nights of Ladybug giving him the snake so he can go on patrol with her. He’s not ready for her lowkey flirting and has to keep reminding himself that he’s not supposed to react since she doesn’t know that he Knows™️.

AU where Kitty Section never became a thing, but it turns out that Marinette’s good at writing lyrics. She actually ends up singing along to a song that Luka never had lyrics for and that’s how she becomes his lyricist.

A concept: switching around “Frozer” and “Captain Hardrock,” meaning that, when Luka goes to comfort this “stranger” walking onto deck, he might not even hear about the ice rink. If he does, they’re not close enough for her to ask him to come with her but he offers her some quick ice skating lessons before the “third-wheeling date.” If he doesn’t and thus gives Marinette no lessons, Adrimi ends up happening due to Marinette staying mostly off the ice due to clumsiness and constantly feeling bad over seeing Adrien and Kagami there, which leads into “Captain Hardrock” where she meets Luka again without any sort of Adrien influence (outside of her getting over him).

Marinette always being made fun of and called “funny” due to her clumsiness when she was little. Likewise, Luka was always considered too “soft” so he began to see it as an insult. Once they’re older, they end up calling each other “funny”/“soft” and suddenly find that it hits very different when it’s THEM saying it to each other because they can tell that there’s no maliciousness there.

Post-reveal friendly shenanigans where Luka is somewhere, idling on his phone, when a flash of red and black swoops down and snatches it out of his hand. He looks around, confused, then manages to catch the sight of Ladybug this time as she swoops back the other way and hands his phone back. He sees that she took a picture of herself winking + sticking her tongue out with his phone and now he can’t stop grinning stupidly to himself.

Marinette waking up after a stressful/exhausting day, then seeing the time and frantically calling Luka, worried that she’d missed an event or something. There’s a light chuckle on the other line as Luka reminds her that it’s Sunday and nothing’s going on so she should get back to sleep.

Post-Guardian Marinette things where Luka is her confidant who she told about her guardian status. Marinette occasionally lets the kwami free whenever she knows that Tom and Sabine won’t come up to disturb them, but it leads to a “problem” of sorts. Pollen, of course, calls Marinette her “queen,” but now that Luka is there also, Pollen calls him her “king” and Marinette and Luka are collectively dying.

Silly thing: snakes of all kinds being attached to Marinette. She’ll go to pet stores and they’ll boop their noses against the glass, wanting her attention. Luka feels unnecessarily smug post-dating because he’s her snake and no one else is.

Luka Knows™️ and finds a way for Marinette to vent about her Ladybug duties without her having to tell him her identity, like mentioning things that happened with Ladybug that day and giving her an opening to talk about them, if only from a faux-outsider’s perspective.

Luka having a terrible day, to the point where he’s legitimately worried about being akumatized. He decides to call Marinette as an akuma starts flying past the window, and just hearing Marinette’s voice alone fills Luka with such positive energy that the akuma is immediately repelled like wow ok i’m out. He watches the akuma leave with a smile and whispers, ”You’re amazing, Marinette.” “W-what?? Did you call just to tell me that?” “No, but it’s true.”

Marinette decides that she wants a challenge and asks Luka if she can make a full guitar for him. He knows he’d be stupid not to agree, but then Marinette shyly adds a condition: he has to name the guitar after her. Luka has no idea how to explain to her that he’s already named a guitar after her so she might have to settle for her guitar being “Marinette 2.”

Luka Knowing™️ and it makes him legitimately upset at how much stress and responsibility has been placed on her. He ends up getting akumatized so he can take her earrings, not to bring them to Hawk Moth, but to “save” her.

Viperion in a particularly tough akuma-related battle. Ladybug legitimately doesn’t know if they’re going to make it out okay, so she ends up finding a moment to confess to him. Cut to later when he ends up having to go back with Second Chance, erasing the moment from time, and apparently he’s just supposed to focus and pretend like he’s okay and he is SO getting her back when this fight is over.

Marinette being afraid to confess to Luka directly, so she’s constantly dropping hints that she likes him and Luka is picking up on none of them because he’s convinced that she still likes Adrien. The rest of Kitty Section is constantly getting on his case for not pursuing Marinette and he’s just like, “But she likes Adrien?” while having like 3984723748234 texts from Marinette just from that day alone.

Marinette deciding to use her Instagram to ramble, leading her to post some pictures of Luka and talk about how nice/sweet/handsome he is because surely he doesn’t follow her account so it’ll be fine (spoiler alert: he follows her account very much and Juleka makes a game out of trying to catch his reaction every time Marinette posts about him).

Post-dating, Marinette insisting to Luka that she “doesn’t want to mess up their first kiss,” and therefore they have to practice kissing each other first, apparently missing the point that it won’t be their first kiss if they’ve kissed each other before. Luka tries to explain the fault in logic but she’s not backing down and, really, who is he to refuse if she wants to kiss him a bunch?

Adulthood Lukanette “cruelty” on Marinette’s part where she decides that she wants to propose to Luka and puts the box with the wedding ring inside one of his guitars with the excuse that she was replacing the strings for him, then leaving Luka to realize what she did later.

Juleka asking Marinette who her favorite hero is because she was getting into a debate with Luka about it and they couldn’t agree. Marinette shyly peeks up because Luka is right there, but nonetheless admits that her favorite is Viperion.

Marinette visiting the Liberty and noticing Luka not playing his guitar and just staring off into space, a soft, loving look on his face. She asks Juleka about it, who casually brushes it off as, “Oh, he always does that when he’s thinking of you.” “When he’s thinking of WHO now????”

Post-dating in which Marinette freaks out over even the smallest contact with Luka just because she’s on a happy emotional high. (”You wanna hold hands??? Like--my hand??? Holding yours??? And our fingers will be intertwining and everything?? And we--stop laughing, Luka, these are important questions!!!”) Bonus if what gets her to take a huge step forward and just passionately kiss Luka is someone mocking their relationship and her proving them otherwise thusly.

Marinette gets a pet snake, names it “Viperion,” and happily uses it as an opportunity to gush about Viperion the second Luka questions why she chose a snake as a pet.

Marinette complains sometimes about Luka being “too tall” but really, it’s perfect for hugs, so-- (even if she still pouts about the fact that she can’t kiss him simply by being on her tip-toes).

Lowkey headcanon that Juleka and Rose purposefully set Marinette up with Luka since they’re like, “Luka’s missing!” in “Captain Hardrock” when Luka is in his room that Juleka shares with him and it would’ve been the first place to go look for him.

Luka being so used to messes and just leaving them alone thanks to living on the Liberty for so long and being around his mother. It’s a really hard habit to break when he starts living with Marinette and he’s extremely apologetic about it.

Luka posting a lot about Marinette/him and Marinette on Instagram and Marinette “fighting back” (bonus if she doesn’t do it intentionally) with posts about Luka/her and Luka/Kitty Section.

Why limit oneself to balcony scenes when you can have houseboat scenes too???

Marinette being offended by any polls where Ladybug wins over Viperion except Luka is offended by her opinion and it’s just them going back and forth about why Ladybug/Viperion should be more popular.

Tikki agreeing with Master Fu that Marinette and Adrien are “made for each other” but being a closet Lukanette fan in secret. That tiny Kitty Section shirt that Marinette made on Instagram is hers.

Pre-”Captain Hardrock,” Luka thinking he’s subtle asking for details about “the girl who broke his sister’s photo curse.” He’s not.

Marinette taking a music class and of course she asks Luka to help with things that she doesn’t understand. Bonus if she’s so into trying to learn that she doesn’t notice when she’s making him blush, like her casually sitting on his lap and asking him to physically instruct her on where her hands should be.

Post-dating, Marinette “bribing” Luka to do things using kisses. Bold of her to assume he wouldn’t have done it anyway, though he won’t say “no” to kisses either.

Marinette, being carried/protected by Viperion, knowing that she needs to leave to transform but also he’s very warm and nice so maybe just a little longer, this akuma isn’t that dangerous/disruptive anyway. (Viperion may also be indulging himself too but she’ll never know.)

“It's amazing how you can be so composed all the time, Luka! It feels like it's impossible to know what you're thinking!“ “Really? But I just think about you all the time, Marinette.“ “*DOESN’T KNOW WHETHER TO BE FLUSTERED OR OFFENDED BECAUSE HOW DARE--*”

Whenever Marinette does that thing where she closes her eyes and raises her head proudly... I feel like Luka gets the sudden urge to either kiss her or cup her cheeks.

Marinette and Luka having “silence challenges” in adulthood where they give each other affection and the first one to make a noise loses. The challenge never lasts long.

I just presume that Luka has sixth senses that go off the second Marinette is completely over Adrien.

Post-reveal and post-dating where Luka expresses concern to Marinette about the whole “destiny” nonsense with Adrien being Chat Noir and Marinette lets Luka know how she feels about that by showering Luka with lots of kisses.

Luka not realizing what he said to Marinette in “Silencer” until he goes home and Juleka asks him what they’d been talking about. His face turns progressively redder as he makes the realization.

Post-dating, Marinette not being used to the abundance of affection that Luka’s going to give her due to how many times she failed with Adrien.

[ikkaku-of-heart]

@trafalgar-bleedingheart-law​​ continued from here

That really didn't make him feel much better. It may not have been hers but Ikkaku had clearly been in some sort of altercation and that is what was agitating him. It wasn't really the fact that he was a doctor, more that he viewed every member of his crew as family ... so yes! He was going to fuss! No matter how capable he knew they were.

It wasn't until he had given her the once over that he finally met her gaze and frowned. He wasn't annoyed ... much. Just caught off guard.

"Ok ... so whose blood is it? And why is there so much of it?? AND do I have to go and deal with them if they are still alive?"

Fussy big brother? Yes. Being dead serious? Absolutely. If there was a threat to his family then he would end them before they even has a chance to say "oops".

Ikkaku gave a little shrug, trying to be nonchalant, yet she understood Law’s concern and thus felt a tiny bit guilty for playing it off. He was both the Hearts’ captain and doctor, plus practically everyone’s big brother, so of course he was going to fuss a bit. The welfare of his crew was his responsibility, and only an idiot wouldn’t question why his subordinate had returned to the ship covered in blood, whether it be their own or someone else’s.

She didn’t regret it, though. Ikkaku rarely killed, preferring more non-lethal takedowns with her shock baton than outright murder, and it hadn’t exactly been intentional. The plan had been to just subdue the guy so Law could decide what to do with him, but then he’d tried to stab her and instinct had taken over...

By the time she could properly see again, she’d been kneeling over a corpse that was gushing blood from at least a half-dozen stab wounds.

“The blood belonged to a bounty hunter,” she confessed, grabbing a towel to start cleaning herself up. It was stupid to try and hide it from him. He’d find out sooner or later, so he might as well hear it directly from her. “Well, he was pulling double-duty. Bounty hunter and slaver. Recognized the jolly roger on my back and followed me into an alley. Guess he assumed I’d be easier to interrogate than one of the guys.”

She scowled. Not at the assumption - being underestimated worked in her favor more often than not - but at who the bastard had attempted to interrogate her about. The newest member of their family, and a man who she was certain had already endured enough.

Dark eyes met Law’s gaze, and her jaw tightened. Much as she’d like to believe that one bounty hunter had been the end of it, there was no way they were that lucky. Captain needed to know.

“The bastard was after Jean Bart. His old ‘owner’ apparently wants him back. I couldn’t let that happen, Law.”

[bestillmyslashyheart]

for @caitlesshea and @iwontbeyourmedicine

Maria knew it was the right thing to do, no matter how much it hurt. She loved Michael and she knew Michael loved her but their relationship wasn’t sustainable. It was better to end things now rather than wait until they hated each other.

Except Michael clearly didn’t agree with her. “I can do better,” he pleaded, his eyes shining.

Maria shook her head. “No, Michael, no. You were great. You-” she huffed a little laugh, “you were the best of me.” The next words are on her lips, spilling out before she could catch them. “You are the best of me.”

Michael inhaled sharply even as his face brightened. Maria’s heart flipped. “What did you just say?” He asked, his voice soft with wonder.

Maria’s mouth opened and closed. She didn’t know what to say. She hadn’t meant to let the words come out. Not when she knew what they meant. Not when she wasn’t sure she wanted to find out if they meant what she hoped they did.

“Maria,” Michael beamed. He rose out of his seat and leaned over her in the bed, his hands cupping her face gently. “Maria you said my words.” He kissed her deeply, her aborted attempt at breaking up with him apparently forgotten.

Maria let him, his joy contagious as her heart sang. She’d said Michael’s words. They were soulmates.

It was meant to be.

---

Alex doesn't believe in soulmarks. If he did, he’d hate them.

The physical reality of them is impossible to ignore – the mark is undeniably there, inscribed across his skin – but he can't think of them as anything other than ridiculous.

Because they don't mean anything, not really. They're not the first words, or the last words, or even the most important words, but just something that someone, somewhere might say to you. If you're lucky enough to meet them, that is, and most people aren't, because that someone lives on the other side of the world, they don't take that one, fateful call, or they look to the left when they should have looked right.

And even then, most of the marks spell out inanities, mundane greetings and hackneyed phrases that their bearer might hear a hundred times in a day, never mind a lifetime, but those who have met their soulmate insist that it sounds and feels different when spoken by their other half, although no-one's ever been able to explain how to Alex’s satisfaction. 

There have been hundreds of studies performed by universities and hospitals and research institutions, measuring heart rates and brainwaves, hormone fluctuations and endorphin levels, but the results are never conclusive and nothing's ever been proven. He's meant to take it on faith that the words are meaningful, but Alex just can't. He can't believe that there's some mystical, unknowable force out there, playing cryptic matchmaker. Once, he’d let himself believe in the magic of it all but that time was long past. 

Which is why he didn’t let it hurt him when Isobel mentioned that Maria had said Michael’s words. Because they didn’t mean anything. 

It didn’t mean anything that he’d used to trace them while Michael slept, his finger curving over the letters imprinted behind Michael’s ears, the words covered by his curls so no one else got to see them. It didn’t mean anything that Alex had put those words in his song on the off chance that-

It didn’t mean anything.

---

“Don’t judge me, okay?” Forrest laughed. Alex felt himself smiling in return. Forrest shot him a wink before turning around and pulling his pizza out of the oven. “I made a cheese too,” he tossed over his shoulder. “Just to be safe.” Alex saw the other pizza sitting on the rack as Forrest moved his precious concoction over to the counter. You might have thought it was made of gold with how carefully he was handling it. 

Forrest left the oven door open as he dug around for a pizza cutter and Alex hip checked him out of the way as he fished the other pizza out and closed the oven door. It was their third date and Alex had suggested going for pizza, not anticipating Forrest inviting him over for the homemade variety. He had to admit it was nice, moving around each other in Forrest’s kitchen. They weren’t quite cooking together, Forrest having taken care of that before Alex showed up, but the camaraderie was there as Alex searched the cabinets for plates and glasses. 

“Ok,” he said when he had everything ready, “show me the monstrosity.” 

“Hey now,” Forrest chided, laughing, “I said you weren’t allowed to judge me.”

“You also said everyone else you’ve ever eaten pizza with hates it so…” Alex trailed off.

Forrest shrugged, unconcerned, and stepped away from the counter. He waved a hand over the perfectly cut pizza and let Alex look at it unencumbered. The crust looked perfectly cooked and the cheese was enticing but it was the combination of pineapple, ham, anchovies, and mushrooms on top that captured his attention. Alex stared at it for long enough that Forrest reached for it. “This is why I made a cheese,” he told him.

Alex reached out and snatched the pizza from his grasp and pulled it close. “I’m sure you and the cheese will be very happy together.” Forrest furrowed his brow for a moment before his expression cleared.

“Alex…?”

“I get this one.” It wasn’t his favorite combination of toppings, sure, but it was up there. Alex had never met someone who liked the same toppings as him.

“Alex,” Forrest sighed in amazement. “You like it?” His lips turned up in a slow smile.

“I think it’s amazing,” Alex corrected.

“I haven’t eaten it yet,” Alex reminded him.

“But you don’t think it’s disgusting?”

“Oh my god,” Forrest wondered. “We’re like two halves of one crazy messed up whole. No one likes my- Alex?” 

Alex felt all the blood drain from his face. There was no way Forrest could have known those words. They hadn’t had sex yet, he hadn’t seen them. Even if he had, half of the words were gone now…

“Alex?” Forrest asked again, worry evident in his voice.

“Those are my words,” Alex confessed quietly. He hadn’t felt any different, at least he didn’t think he had, but the chances of Forrest saying his exact words were astronomically low. “We’re like two halves of one crazy messed up whole,” Alex repeated. “Those are my words.”

Forrest lit up. “Really?” Alex nodded. Forrest took one large step across the kitchen and swept him into a kiss.

“It’s you,” Forrest said wondrously when they pulled apart. “It’s you.”

---

Michael thought it would feel different. He’d always decried the concept of soulmates but secretly he loved the idea of them, of someone out there who was meant for him in every way. Someone who would love him forever. 

He loved Maria. And she’d said his words, despite only knowing half of them. She was his soulmate.

So why wasn’t it better? Why wasn’t it good?

They fought all the time. It had been months since she said his words and took back her attempt at ending their relationship and Michael thought they might have spent more of that time fighting with each other than they did being happy. Maria was insistent on pursuing her alien heritage even as it killed her and she was forcing Michael to stand back and watch and he hated it. But she hated it every time he tried to do something about it so they were stuck at an impasse. 

It didn’t help that Forrest had said Alex’s words. The man was around a lot more than Michael was comfortable with and that little secret hadn’t stayed quiet very long. Even worse than seeing Forrest Long’s face everywhere he went was the fact that Alex didn’t look happy. He hid it well, but there was a tightening around his eyes and a stiffness to his shoulders that betrayed him. Alex was unhappy. And Michael didn’t have any right to do anything about it anymore. He hadn’t for a long time now. 

It came to a head at another Open Mic Night, fittingly enough. Michael hadn’t planned on going but Maria had had to cancel a date when one of her bartenders called out so he drove over to the Pony and set up at the bar, as far away from the stage as he could get. A night full of terrible music wasn’t his idea of a fun night but he and Maria hadn’t really seen each other in a week and he was making an effort, okay?

He wasn’t expecting Alex to get on stage.

He really wasn’t expecting him to start singing that song, either. 

---

Alex started singing and Maria stopped to listen. She’d heard about his song from her regulars and her staff but she hadn’t had the chance to hear it for herself so she stepped back from the bar and just listened.

It didn’t take very long for her to realize who the song was about. She cut a glance over at Michael’s seat at the end of the bar. He wasn’t looking at Alex but he was so clearly not looking at Alex that it was somehow more obvious that it was all he wanted to do.

At one point he closed his eyes and turned towards the stage, like he was a compass and Alex was true north and he couldn’t help himself.

Wish I found the words when we were seventeen

You were the best of me

You are the best of me

Maria heard the words and knew immediately that Alex knew what they were. He didn’t write them by accident.

But she barely had a moment to process that thought before Michael stole all of her attention. He’d jolted off of his stool when Alex finished, his eyes wide as he stared across the room at Alex. His left hand went to his ear, fingers tracing the letters Maria knew to be imprinted behind it.

Maria watched as a hundred emotions flitted across his face before settling on determination. He turned towards her, an apology in his eyes and she knew. 

“Yeah,” she sighed as she walked over to him. “This makes more sense,” she confessed.

“Maria…”

She waved him off. Alex and Forrest walked past them towards the door and she jerked her head in their direction. “What are you waiting for? Go.”

Michael spared her another apologetic glance before he was gone.

---

“You were amazing,” Forrest gushed as the doors slammed closed behind him. The noise from the bar was cut off and they were left with the stillness of the night air. “Better than the first time, for sure.”

Alex fiddled with his keys and didn’t look at him. “Thanks.”

Forrest bit back a sigh. They’d started off well but things had changed once Forrest said Alex’s words. He would have expected things to get even better, for their relationship to move forward, but that hadn’t happened. It was like they’d stalled out. If it weren’t for the words, Forrest might have ended things already and he suspected Alex felt the same, but it was hard to deny the mark of destiny so they dug their heels in and dragged it out.

Noise filled the air as the doors banged open. “Alex!” 

Forrest and Alex turned in unison to see Michael Guerin barreling towards them. Forrest hadn’t spent much time with the man but he knew he and Alex had a past and they shared many of the same friends. “Guerin,” he greeted when Alex said nothing.

Michael ignored him completely, his feet carrying him all the way to Alex without pause. He cupped Alex’s face in his hands and Alex didn’t stop him, his only movement being to drop his keys and grab Michael’s hand.

“We are so fucking stupid,” Michael smiled. 

“What are you-” Alex started to say before Michael cut him off.

“We’re like two halves of one crazy messed up whole.”

Alex dropped his guitar. And Forrest knew.

“You put it in the song,” Michael added nonsensically. 

“Yeah, well,” Alex replied weakly. His voice was soft with wonder and disbelief. “Took a little longer than I anticipated but it worked.”

Forrest wasn’t sure which one of them moved first but in the next breath they were kissing, the two of them colliding less than a foot away from him. 

It was almost like they fused together, the two of them becoming one being right in front of him. The return of the noise had him looking back over at the entrance to find Maria DeLuca, Alex’s friend who, up until a minute ago, Forrest thought was Michael’s soulmate. She had a strange look on her face as she watched Alex and Michael and Forrest wandered over to her. “So,” he greeted.

“So,” she shot back with a smile. “It makes more sense that it’s them,” she allowed.

“It does,” Forrest agreed. They stood in silence for a moment watching the two men. “Doesn’t mean this doesn’t suck just a little bit, thought.”

Maria laughed sharply, the sound startled out of her. “Did they really just start making out right in front of you?”

“I don’t think Guerin even noticed I was there,” Forrest replied. “And Alex definitely forgot as soon as Guerin said his words.”

“You want a drink?” Maria offered. Her eyes cut back over to the two men who, Forrest checked, were still making out. Forrest wasn’t sure they’d stopped to take a breath yet.

“Please.”

---

It was strange, waking up in Alex’s house. Michael had been here before but he’d never been allowed to wake up here. And definitely not with Alex still sleeping next to him.

Sunlight streamed in through a crack in the curtains and Michael swore Alex glowed with it. That could just be the love talking, though.

Alex barely stirred as Michael tossed off the blanket and the sheet, baring them both to the cool air. Michael shifted towards the foot of the bed and pulled Alex’s right leg into his lap.

The letters stared up at him, we’re like two halves of one. The rest of the sentence was gone but Michael didn’t need to see it to remember what it said. He’d had the words carved into his memory from the very first time he’d read them. Once, he almost said them out loud but he hadn’t wanted to tempt fate. There was no rhyme or reason to the marks. If he’d read it out loud to Alex when they were 17 it probably wouldn’t have done anything. They weren’t meant to know then.

A hand brushed his hair back and away from his ear. Michael glanced up to Alex staring at him, his thumb reaching down to trace the cursive letters scrawled along his hairline. “I didn’t think it would work,” Alex said softly. “The song. It’s not supposed to work if you say them because you read them.”

Michael leaned down and pressed a kiss along Alex’s words before crawling up the bed to lay next to him. “Screw that ‘supposed to’ crap,” he muttered. “We’d never have figured it out if we hadn’t already known.”

Alex raised an eyebrow. “Really? You think so?”

“Alex,” Michael sighed. “We’ve known the words since we were 17 and it still took us 12 years.”

Alex shrugged as if to say ‘fair enough’. He carded a hand through Michael’s hair and bared the other ear to his eyes. He leaned forwards and Michael ducked his head enough so Alex could brush his lips across you are the best of me. 

“I can’t believe I thought it was Maria,” Michael admitted. “When I heard you say it was like the words were on fire, like they were warming me up or something. There was nothing when Maria said it.”

“Yeah,” Alex agreed. “Same with Forrest. I just didn’t think there was any chance of someone else saying them so…”

Michael closed the tiny gap between them and kissed Alex softly. “They’re my words,” he told Alex. “No one else’s.” 

Alex ran his thumbs over the words on both sides of Michael’s head. “Likewise.”

[chrwrites]

Drunk Talks (and Sober Confessions)

this one was written for the previous @lovebugs-and-snakecharmers Sprint Fic Challenge prompt: “I love you.” “Tell me that when you’re sober.”

It became longer than it was supposed to be so it’s not a sprint fic anymore, but I enjoyed writing this a lot even though it took me longer than expected :)

read on ao3

When Luka saw Marinette enter the living room of the Liberty that night, he choked on the drink he was having, and his best friend next to him had to clap on his back until he recovered, his face still red.

What a perfect beginning for the night, he thought.

It didn’t help that Ruby had mixed his drink a bit too strong for his liking and his throat was burning when he turned his gaze back to Marinette.

Why did he let his sister organize a Halloween party on the boat, anyway? He didn’t even like big parties, he could have just said no, but then Rose had pleaded him with her signature puppy eyes and there was no way he was saying no to that.

Not to mention that he really wanted to see Marinette. He had been busy between work and university and her last year of lycée had her stressing over the BAC ever since the beginning of the school year. They hadn’t been able to hang out properly in a while, and… he missed her. He had been looking forward to seeing her again, he just didn't expect her to look like... like this.

Now that she walked in the room, Luka felt breathless. It was like he was looking at someone else, even though he could still see all her sweetness under a costume he would have never imagined seeing on her.

Her blue eyes looked a shade darker under the purple eyeshadow that merged with black at the side of her eyelids, and her usually pink lips were tinted purple to match. Luka took another sip from his cup before bringing his attention to the rest of the look.

Marinette’s black hair was tied in a half bun, and the free strands fell on a black crop top that sported a purple skull in the middle. A checkered black and green skirt wrapped around her hips, ending a few inches above her knees, and her legs were covered by a thin layer of purple fabric. Where did she get those combat boots?

Okay, breathe Luka. It’s not like your crush has dressed up as your first fictional crush. It’s fine, it’s fine. You can go to her, tell her how much you like her costume and how much you wish to-

“You’re drooling”, Ruby’s amused voice called him back to reality, and he almost snapped his neck as he turned to look at her, hoping that the heat he felt on his cheeks wasn’t visible, but the knowing glint in her eyes told him the exact opposite.

Didn’t they watch Danny Phantom every time they had sleepovers when they were younger? And as Ruby said how cool Sam Manson was and how she wanted to be like her, he ended up telling himself that he was going to marry someone like her, and she’d scold him because “We’re besties and I’m not marrying you, that’s gross”. Luka grew out of his punk-girls-can-step-on-me phase – or at least he thought he did until now – after his first break up, and then he met Marinette and decided that pink was his favourite colour because it was cute and soft and Marinette.

Despite knowing that she could pull off anything, Luka didn’t expect her to look so good in darker colours.

Okay, let’s face it, he just wasn’t ready to see her like this.

“Who would’ve guessed that the cute baker’s daughter would have gotten you all worked up within five minutes in being in the same room as you. That’s a record, Lu”, Ruby snickered and grabbed a bottle from the table beside them, filling his cup again, “You need another drink”.

Luka didn’t protest and brought the cup to is lips as he looked back at Marinette, taking another good chunk of his drink and not caring for the burn he felt in his throat this time.

She was talking to Adrien and complimenting him for his Ladybug inspired costume, and if she blushed it was only because she felt flattered and not because of that huge crush she used to have on him.

If this had happened a year ago, she would have been gushing about the fact that her crush was dressed up as her superhero alterego and would have been freaking out, but now she just laughed. She didn’t even stammer around him anymore, and she was glad that she could finally cherish their friendship now.

There was someone else in her heart, someone with a bright smile and the sweetest voice and the deepest blue eyes she’d ever seen, and she had finally gathered the courage to tell him how she felt. That was the perfect night, she had dressed up for him, her parents were away for the weekend so she had no curfew to think about, and that meant that she could enjoy Luka’s company for as long as she wanted. And she had been preparing for this moment for a while, too. From the dress to the words she would have said to him, and she had to do now was hoping not to be rejected.

Luka had always been there for her, and now that she was finally ready to face her feelings for him, she hoped he’d still be there, in a different but better way.

Marinette’s eyes wandered around the room looking for him, and among some unfamiliar faces – that she supposed were his friends – she found him, standing in a corner of the room and smiling to a girl that was sticking out her tongue at him. Wait, was he blushing?

Of course he was, she was gorgeous.

Crimson hair, green eyes framed by a thin line of eyeliner, and the red on her lips didn’t look obnoxious. A plain black choker decorated her neck, and the long-sleeved crop top she was wearing left her stomach exposed, the ripped skinny jeans only helped accentuating the curves of her body.

She was the perfect mix between punk and stylish. And she was tall, not as much as him, but enough that she didn’t have to pull herself on her tiptoes to kiss him. It’s not like Marinette had thought about it, anyway.

Now that she looked at him having fun with someone that was just like him, she felt pathetic.  Marinette was ready to tell him how she was in love with him, and all her hopes were shattered. Gone. She had missed her chance.

Whoever she was, she was a much better fit for him, anyway, beautiful and cool and just perfect. And Marinette was just… Marinette, trying to fit in clothes that weren’t meant for her just to impress him. She was young and stupid, and she had dressed up while both Luka and the other girl were in low effort costumes. Luka was wearing his everyday clothes but wore the black eyeliner he usually put on when he performed and brought out his eyes, and the red-haired girl managed to pull off cat ears without looking awkward or dumb.

Marinette felt stupid for hoping that Luka would have answered her feelings and cursed herself for not being able to speak up sooner. She sighed, deciding to deal with how much of an idiot she was the only way a mature and responsible person of age could deal with their problems, “Shots, anyone?”.

Alya gave her a cup to drink from, and Luka found himself staring at Marinette’s painted black nails from where he was when Ruby called his attention, passing him another full cup of liquor mixed with juice.

“Are you going to talk to her?”, she asked.

“I’m not sure I can talk to her while trying to control the impulse to jump her”, Luka sighed, fiddling with the cup in his hand. He felt breathless just by looking at her, how could he expect to talk to her? He hadn’t gathered enough liquid courage to walk to her just yet.

Besides, Marinette was with her friends, and he couldn’t just walk to her and tell her how he thought that she looked great and he couldn’t take his eyes off her, just the way she smiled and her lashes fluttered under the lights they had set was making him weak, and how that look fit her was just… incredible. But he also thought that her clothes would look better on his–

“Woah, when did it go from “She’s the music in my heart” to this?”, Ruby snickered, raising one eyebrow at him.

“Oh, shut up”, Luka groaned, downing part of his drink to drown his thoughts.

He shouldn’t have been thinking about her sister’s friend in that way in the first place, but he couldn’t really help himself when she was the most gorgeous girl he had ever seen.

“Really, though, I don’t think staring at her like a creep is the way to go”, Ruby said.

Luka sighed, focusing his attention on the drink he was holding, and reprimanding himself for thinking about her in that way.

Maybe avoiding her was the best idea, but just as the thought of moving to a less crowded room to not see her crossed his mind, Marinette’s happy voice called his name, “Luka!”.

He looked up, and all he saw was the bright smile Marinette was giving him.

He felt his heart miss a beat when he noticed that the pick he had given her the first time they met was dangling from the choker she was wearing. Luka brought his cup to his mouth again, chugging some of his drink, hoping that some more alcohol would have helped him to at least spit out some words and kill the wild thoughts forming in his mind. But all Luka could focus on was the way the purple and white piece of plastic fit perfectly in the middle of her pale neck and the curve of Marinette’s exposed shoulders and how he wanted to–

“You’re wearing an amazing costume! Don’t you think so, Lu?”

Luka straightened up as soon as he felt something hit his foot, and Ruby was giving him a tight smile and nudging her head at Marinette begging him with her eyes to speak for goodness' sake. Luka winced, but was grateful that she had opted for canvas shoes instead of combat boots that night.

He looked at Marinette again and it didn’t take long for him to get the same awestruck expression he had been sporting since she walked into the room. He was too distracted from the vision that she was in that moment that all his stupid mouth had managed to choke out was a “It’s... very good”, that earned him a disappointed pout from Marinette, and a very exasperated sigh from his best friend.

“Just good?”, Marinette giggled, and tried to twirl around but ended up tripping on her feet. Luka promptly leaned forward to catch her and Marinette let out a happy intoxicated laugh, clasping her hands on his shoulders, “I’m mad at you now”, she said, faintly trying to put some distance between them. Luka waited until she straightened up before letting his hands leave her waist, and he couldn’t control the small chuckle that left his lips.

Marinette grinned and took one step closer to him, raising one finger to his face, “I can’t really be mad at you now, can I? You have the prettiest smile”.

Luka gulped, feeling his cheeks heat up at the compliment, “You’re drunk, Mari”, he stated, more to himself than to her.

“I don’t know, maybe? I feel so good, Luka! And I need to talk to you”, she said, the alcohol in her body giving her the confidence she didn’t have sober.

Luka shook his head as he fought the fond expression forming on his face, “Let’s go grab some water first”.

“But I want to talk now!”, the girl in front of him whined, and closed the distance between them placing her head on his shoulder. Luka’s breath hitched and he had to force himself to focus on something different than the very drunk Marinette that was clumsily wrapping her arms around him.

Luka sighed, looking down at her as she nuzzled her face on his neck, “You smell so nice!”.

“Marinette”, he called, trying to gently pull her away from him enough to fill a cup with water and give it to her.

“Yes, that’s my name!”, she chirped, taking the cup he offered and chugging it down. A drop of water fell from the corner of her lips, and she wiped it away with the back of her hand. Luka had to look away from her, trying to hold back the thoughts forming in his mind.

“Water is so good!”, she laughed, tumbling towards him again, this time Luka placed his hands on her bare arms to steady her.

“Ah, Luka! Have I ever told you how great I think you are? You never fail to catch me”.

The surprised look on Luka’s face turned into a soft expression rather than a concerned one, but he still couldn’t manage to say something to her, or at least thank her for the compliment. And as he stood silent, Marinette suddenly grabbed his hand, pulling him with her and walking away with him. Where did she find that strength?

He tried to pull away from her and looked back at his friend for help, who grinned and raised her cup to him, winking. She winked. Marinette was going to kill him and Ruby didn’t even raise one finger to help him.

Traitor.

If he got through that night without doing something he could regret in the morning he was going to reconsider all of his friendships. A friend doesn’t let you leave with your crush hand in h– okay, maybe he was overreacting, but having Marinette’s hand intertwined with his didn’t really help with thinking straight, especially when he had knocked down a few drinks, too.

“Marinette what–”, he called, trying to remain as calm as possible as she dragged him through the corridor that led to the bedroom he shared with Juleka. She tripped on her feet more than once, and Luka decided it was safer for her to be carried than to walk, “Oh Luka you’re soooo strong”, Marinette laughed, wrapping her arms around his neck. He could feel her warm breath on his skin along with the cloying smell of peach vodka, and he forced himself not to focus on that and instead worked on opening the door to his room without making Marinette fall.

When he managed to get inside and shuffle to his bed, Marinette didn’t seem to want to let go of him and she pulled him down with her when he tried to lay her down.

He ended up laying on top of her for a split second before he quickly moved to sit up on his bed. Marinette's giggles died down and she was looking at him, eyes glassy and cheeks a deep shade of pink.

Luka looked away from her and inhaled a deep breath before suddenly feeling her shift and wrap her arms around him. Her laughter was way too cheerful and he forced himself not to think about the way her hands touched his skin or how her hair tickled his neck or how she was sitting on his lap. Shit.

“Luka, you’re really amazing”, she raised her head to look at him, getting way too close than necessary, and he had to put his hands on her shoulders to put some distance between them.

“Marinette, please, don’t make it harder than it already is”, he said, trying to catch his breath.

“Why, is it hard?”, she asked innocently, and tilted her head, “I’m just saying the truth”.  

Oh God, now he really needed another drink as strong as those Ruby made.

Marinette blinked slowly, and brought one hand to his cheek, slowly tracing his features with her fingers, “You’re so gorgeous... And talented... And kind... And caring... And I love the sound of your voice... And when you play for me...”, her voice was low as the words tumbled out slowly from her mouth.

She looked sincere, almost like she knew what she wanted to say and it wasn’t the alcohol talking for her. The giddy smile wasn’t leaving her face as she traced his lips, and Luka felt his skin burn where it had been graced by her touch.

He knew that it was wrong. He knew it. And he knew that he had to stop her. So why was his body completely frozen? Why didn’t his mouth dare to open?

“And I really, really love you Luka”, Marinette closed her eyes and leaned in, pressing her forehead into his. Luka could feel the beat of his heart getting quicker, and he shivered as soon as the words left her mouth, his stomach twisting unpleasantly. That was too much.

He gulped, his trembling hands gently pulling her away and his body shifting further from her as much as the length of his bed allowed.

“T-tell me that when you’re sober”, he choked on his words, and he took a deep breath to gather himself.

Marinette didn’t seem to notice his change in behaviour and laughed, “But I love you now, too! And tomorrow I will be sober, but I will still love you! And I’ll tell you again. I promise!”, she blabbered, the glint in her eyes was killing him as she adjusted herself on his lap again.

“Marinette, please.”, Luka pleaded, trying to get her off him.

God, had they been in a different situation he wouldn’t have complained at all. If she had been clinging onto him sober, he would have happily carried her around, and he’d love it. And maybe he’d spend the rest of the night telling her how beautiful she was, how much he adored her costume and how dark colours suited her. Had they been in a different situation, he would’ve–

No, he wasn’t supposed to think about this now.

Luka sighed and made her settle down on his bed, taking off her shoes, “Why don’t you sleep it off? We can talk about it tomorrow”. If you still remember this.

Marinette looked at him, blinking through her long lashes, “Will you sleep with me?”.

Luka’s mouth went dry. He looked at her, her hair going in different directions on his pillow and his hand was reaching for her cheek before he realized what it was doing and pulled it away.

He looked away, trying to find something that he could do for her that didn’t involve her looking at him.

“How about I get you something more comfortable to wear?”, he asked, clearing his throat and walking to his closet.

“No, I like what I’m wearing! But if you don’t, I can take it off, you didn’t seem to like it anyway”, she said, sitting on his bed and reaching for the hem of her top.

“No no no”, Luka said quickly as he ran to her and put his hands on hers to stop her, his eyes wide.

Marinette raised her head, looking at him adoringly.

“Have your eyes always been this blue? They’re beautiful”.

Luka gulped as he felt heat rising to his cheeks, and turned his gaze away from her.

She’s drunk, there’s no way she means what she's saying. She’ll forget about it tomorrow and I can deal with this, I’m not leaving her alone.

“Wanna know something fun?”, Marinette sat back up and crossed her legs, “I really, really want to kiss you now”, her words were tangling on her tongue, but he wished he didn’t hear them since his chest started to ache.

No, he couldn’t handle this.

She was grinning at him widely, looking like she knew what she was doing, and leaned her chin on her hand, staring directly into his eyes, “Do you want to kiss me?”.

Okay, this was a bad dream, all Luka had to do was take a deep breath and ignore the beautiful girl sitting in his bed looking way too tempting for him. Then he’d wake up and everything would be fine and Marinette would still be the girl he was in love with, but she hadn’t told him that she wanted to kiss him like she really meant it.

Too bad it felt too real and he had to fight the need to kiss that stupid beautiful grin off her face for so many different reasons.

She is drunk and I would never take advantage of her.

She doesn’t really love me.

This is wrong.

Luka bit his lip until it hurt before speaking again, “You know what? I’ll do it if you tell me all this again when you’re sober”.

His eyes widened as his brain registered the words that slipped from his mouth and brought one hand to his face. That was probably the alcohol doing the talking for him as well.

The whine Marinette let out was adorable, and Luka tried to keep a straight face as she put her lips into a pout, “But I wanna kiss you now!”, she crossed her arms.

Luka shook his head, and that was enough for her to sigh and fall back on his bed, stretching out her legs on his lap after he felt safe enough to sit at the bottom of the bed.

“Fine, tomorrow I will tell you all of this, and I will tell you more! Like how I draw your face when I feel uninspired, and how I listen to you singing when I can’t sleep, and about the jacket I’m–”, Marinette stopped her rambling and brought one hand to her mouth before bursting into loud giggles, “Shhh… That’s supposed to be a secret!”.

When her laughter died down, she pressed her index to her mouth and looked at him through half-lidded eyes, “Aw, Luka, am I making you blush now?”, she whispered.

Luka let out a shaky breath and slid away from her legs, getting up.

Being alone in the same room with her had never been this hard, he pinched his nose with his fingers, begging himself to stay calm, and walked back to her. She was looking at him with tired eyes, seemingly out of energy.

“Sleep now”, he said patiently, his voice sweeter than he expected it to be as he tugged her under the covers.

Marinette let out a tired sigh as she closed her eyes, “Wait… I need to take off… Make-up”, she mumbled, and lazily waved one hand to her face.

Luka couldn’t help but chuckle at her, “Hold on, I’ll do it”, he reassured and walked to Juleka’s vanity to get the cleansing wipes for her.

He sat on the floor in front of Marinette before taking one of the wet wipes from the package and starting to remove the make up on her face with gentle strokes. She shrieked and suddenly turned her head on the other side, giggling, “It tickles!”.

Luka let out a laugh of his own as he moved the wipe to carefully clean her eyes. Marinette seemed not to be bothered by his movements and let out a content sigh, leaning towards his delicate touch and blabbering comments on how he was so nice and good and everything.

“I’m all ugly now”, Marinette whined as she watched Luka take another wipe from the package.

“You know that’s not true, Mari”, Luka said softly.

“Sei così dolce, Luka!”, she sighed happily, “Do you think I’m pretty?”

“I think you’re beautiful”, Luka couldn’t help but whisper, and if his hand lingered a little longer on her cheek, Marinette didn’t seem to complain.

“I think you’re beautiful, too!”, she chirped, but then her brows furrowed in confusion, “Wait, no… you don’t use that for men, you’re… what’s the word? Whatever, you’re very good-looking”, she laughed, “Very much good-looking”.

Luka had lost count of the times Marinette left him breathless that night, “Stay still now”, he breathed out before gently moving her face so he could take the make-up off the other part of her face. She nodded, and closed her eyes again, relaxing under his touch.

He had to use three wipes to take all the make-up off, and he had yet to remove the purple on her lips. He had avoided them carefully, knowing that if he touched them, he would have probably combusted on the spot.

Luka took a deep steadying breath before he started to wipe away the purple from her lips with a shaky hand, revealing the soft peachy colour he loved so much.

The hint of an intoxicated smile was still on her lips as he gingerly removed the last hint of purple, admiring how soft and beautiful she looked without any make-up, her bangs falling messily on her forehead only accentuated her beauty.

He switched off the light to the room with his free hand and kept his gaze on her. She hadn’t made any sound since he started taking off the make up from her lips, probably asleep by now, and Luka indulged himself in keeping the hand that was still on her lips there.

The city lights coming through the porthole made her seem ethereal, hell, she was ethereal. Luka felt at peace just by looking at her. He took a moment to memorize her features before he gathered himself and slowly pulled away his hand, but just as he did it, Marinette stuck out her tongue and licked the back of his hand.

“Marinette!”, Luka shrieked, rubbing his hand on his jeans as the girl in front of him giggled again, “Ha! I got you!”, she garbled.

Luka didn’t bother to fight the soft expression forming on his face this time, he got up and pulled the now dishevelled covers on her as her giggles died down.

“Sleep, Mari”, he whispered softly, and Marinette brought the covers close to her face, letting out a happy sigh, “’Night Lu, thank you for being soooo lovely. You’re the best”.

Luka stood silent for a moment as Marinette closed her eyes, finally drifting to sleep.

He got lost in studying her features again, and this time he wasn’t able to resist the temptation to brush her cheek with his fingers. Her skin was soft and warm and her lips were slightly parted. There was a part of him that wanted to stay with her all night, hold her and make sure that she was okay and had everything she needed. But he couldn’t, and he felt like he had taken too much from her already.

He shook himself from his thoughts and got up, heading back to the living room.

It was after he left his room that he noticed that the music wasn’t playing anymore, and the only people he found in the room were Rose and Juleka. How long did he stay in his room with Marinette?

Luka took a bag and started throwing empty bottles and cups in it, intentionally avoiding his sister’s inquisitive gaze. He stood silent as he helped the two girls tidying up, trying to force himself not to think about what happened earlier.

He was doing fine until Juleka and Rose decided they were done with the cleaning and he had to tell them that Marinette was sleeping in his bed and not wake her up. Both Luka and Juleka had to hush Rose’s excited squeals, and he had to repeat that it wasn’t how it looked like for countless times before she calmed down and stopped saying how “Alya was right!”.

Did Luka want to know what she meant with that? Not really, so he just invited his sister and her girlfriend to go to sleep. Juleka didn’t make any comment, instead took Rose's hand and pulled her away with her.

Luka kept cleaning up with the sole purpose to distract himself from the fact that the girl of his dreams was sleeping in his bed looking like a goddess and drunkenly told him that she loved him. If only that was true. He should have been feeling tired, but all he could feel was the giddiness Marinette’s words gave him.

I will still love you tomorrow

I listen to you singing when I can’t sleep

I draw you

I really want to kiss you

I love you

The sun was rising when he finally let himself collapse on the couch, not bothering to cover himself with a blanket or even check his phone for unread messages.

Marinette’s voice was still ringing in his head. There was a small part of him that hoped for her words to be true, but he knew from experience that a drunk mind didn’t always speak a sober heart. And with that in mind, he let himself fall asleep.

It took Marinette a while to understand where she was when she woke up that morning, and the comforting scent of ocean salt and musk hit her before the nausea and the headache did. And if that wasn’t enough, as soon as she realized that she was in Luka’s room, the memories of the previous night came to her mind and... Shit.

She got up from the bed and groaned when she felt her head spin so hard that she had to sit back. The tights were making her skin itchy and the skirt she was wearing had raised, leaving her legs exposed. She closed her eyes, trying to find enough strength to get up and leave. Maybe she could transform and get home, didn’t Tikki say that her powers could cure weakened bodies? That was perfect! She’d transform and she’d already feel better, then she could get home and forget about everything she did the night before and no one would ask questions.

She wouldn’t even have to confront Luka about what she said to him and he’d forget about her being stupid. She just needed to find the strength to get up and leave and– but that wouldn’t have been fair to Luka, and the least she could do was tell him that she was sorry for having been... the way that she was the night before. She took him away from someone else and he had the patience to stay with her even when she shamelessly tried to hit on him. He had been so respectful to her, he deserved at least to know that she was grateful for him taking care of her. She just needed to not look at him in the eyes and let her embarrassment sink in her stomach, she’d have the whole afternoon to loathe about it anyway. Did she really tell him that she loved him?

Oh, this was not how she planned to tell him how she felt about him! And there was someone else in his heart now!

Marinette cringed at the thought and squeezed her eyes, massaging her temples.

When she opened her eyes again, she found some folded clothes and a toothbrush on the nightstand. Did Luka leave them there after she fell asleep? She felt her cheeks heat just thinking about the way he took care of her the night before, how she leaned on his gentle touch, how he had been delicate and sweet... and how she, on the other hand, had been a complete mess.

God, she had been so stupid.

She took a deep breath before finally getting up, grabbing the clothes and going to the bathroom to change, wash her face and brush her teeth. She put on the pair of black leggings that were probably Juleka’s and the forest green sweatshirt. The sleeves covered her hands, so she had to roll them up while she tried not to focus on the fact that the sweatshirt smelled just like the bed she woke up in.

She tied her hair in a messy bun, but avoided looking in the mirror, too ashamed of the judgemental look her reflection would have given her.

There was already Tikki to do that, anyway, and just as Marinette thought about her Kwami, she appeared by her side, the glint in her eyes matching more the god of Destruction than her, “I’m glad you allowed yourself to loosen up a little”, she chimed, and Marinette groaned.

“Why didn’t you stop me? Luka probably hates me now!”, Marinette whined and sat on the edge of the bathtub, putting her head in her hands.

This was awful, and confronting Luka was going to be a complete disaster.

Tikki shook her head and floated next to Marinette’s ear, “Believe me, Marinette, he could never hate you”.

Her words didn’t seem to reassure her, and Marinette looked down, letting her hands fall on her lap. What could she say to him now?

Hey I’m sorry I love you and I had to tell you that while drunk because I can’t even look at you in the eyes for too long when I’m sober?

I’m sorry I’m stupid and you had to deal with me all night?

It wasn’t until Tikki leaned her paw on her cheek that Marinette raised her head and got up, hoping that whatever damage she had done could be fixed, or that Luka was understanding enough to give her another chance. She faced her reflection on the mirror, fixing the mess that her hair had become and taking deep breaths, mentally preparing herself for the worse. When she finally opened the door and walked to the living room, she heard music coming from the galley.

Like handprints in wet cement, she touched me it’s permanent.

Luka was standing with his back turned to her, his head was bobbing to the rhythm as he stirred something on a bowl, “I cannot hide these feelings, I'd give up everything for you”, he hummed, his voice soft and low. Marinette gulped as she looked at him moving swiftly around the galley, putting the flour away in the cupboard and cleaning the counter. His hair was mussed and the way his t-shirt stretched on his body made her blush for the thoughts running through her mind, as if the headache wasn't enough. He was still singing when he turned on the stove and the sweet smell of pancakes filled the room, and Marinette didn’t dare to make her presence known, he was too lost in the music and she was enjoying watching him more than she’d admit.

She kept admiring him as he sang along to another song and turned to put a plate full of pancakes on the table, “I swear to God, I never fall in love, then you showed up and I– Oh”, his eyes widened, and he scrambled to get the phone from his pocket to stop the music.

“You’re awake”, he stated as the room went quiet, and Marinette felt her cheeks burn. She nodded slowly and looked at her feet, biting her lip hesitantly, she couldn’t look at him in the eyes, afraid of what she could see.

“How are you feeling?”, Luka asked, there was care in his voice and Marinette wished she could disappear right in that moment.

“I’m fine”, she said, fiddling with the hem of his sweatshirt. Luka looked away from her, focusing his attention on his surroundings as he tried not to think how pretty she looked while wearing his clothes and being just herself.

“Do you feel like eating something?”, Luka broke his silence, and Marinette took a deep breath before turning her gaze on him. There was smudged make up under his eyes, and she felt her cheeks heat up again at the way he looked at her, “You’ve already done so much for me Luka, I don’t want to bother–”.

“You’re not bothering me”, Luka interrupted, and Marinette gulped as he pointed at the chair beside him and smiled at her reassuringly. She sat down and he moved the plate of pancakes to her before turning his attention to the stove, turning it back on and preparing his breakfast again. Marinette took one banana from the fruit bowl in front of her and started cutting it in slices, letting them fall on the food he’d prepared, “Eat it while it’s warm”, Luka said, putting a jar of honey and a bowl full of berries on the table.

Marinette nibbled the pancake slowly, giving Luka a grateful smile when he settled in front of her with his plate and a bottle of painkillers for her.

They ate in silence at first, and it was only when Marinette’s plate was half empty that she found the energy to speak, “Listen… Uh… About last night…”, she started, and Luka raised his head from his plate to look at her, “It’s okay, Marinette. You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to”, he said, his voice as calm as ever.

Marinette swallowed and focused back on her plate, the silence that fell between them was uneasy and unnatural from what she was used to. It wasn’t right.

She emptied her plate in silence and took the medicine, downing it with some water before daring to glance at like again. When Luka finished his breakfast, he got up to take her plate.

“No, I’ll do it”, Marinette said, taking the plate before he did and getting up just as her head started spinning again. She stumbled in front of him, and Luka promptly caught her, putting his hands on her shoulders to steady her just as he did the previous night. Marinette felt her throat go dry as she looked up at him, she could feel his breath on her skin and it took more effort than she imagined to move to the side to put their plates in the sink.

Luka stood where she’d left him, keeping his warm gaze on her.

She couldn’t bear the awkwardness that came with staying with him, that wasn’t them. Being with him was so natural, it shouldn’t have been difficult now. She could tell him how she felt and then he’d talk and he’d be gentle even if he had to break her heart and Marinette would be okay eventually, right? Even if he wanted nothing to do with her later.

She felt her heart sink just at the thought, but it didn’t stop her from placing her hands on the counter, and taking a deep breath to gather herself. Then she finally turned to him, managing to look straight into his eyes, “I need to talk to you about last night”, she said slowly.

Luka nodded and walked to her, leaning his back against the counter and looking at her in the eyes, preparing himself for what he wasn’t ready to hear.

I’m sorry, I didn’t mean what I said last night.

He gulped, trying to focus only on her instead of what was going on inside his head.

“I–“, Marinette sighed, taking another deep breath before continuing, “This is not how I expected this to go. I mean, I never had the courage to talk to you about this until yesterday, and I thought I was finally ready to tell you everything, and I dressed up hoping to catch your attention because I wanted to feel… confident. I always feel confident around you, I just– I don’t know, this sounds stupid now. But I dressed up for you, and I hoped that you would notice me…”, she looked down.

“Marinette, I–”

“Let me finish first”, Marinette requested, “You didn’t even look at me, and I saw you with someone else and you kept avoiding me, so I thought that I missed my chance. And that if she makes you happy I don’t have any right to claim you. I just– I’m sorry for how I acted, and for being so stupid and for getting in the way. But… I need you to know that I meant what I said last night, it wasn’t the alcohol doing the talking. I love you, Luka”.

Luka’s eyes widened, and his mouth dropped open. That was too much information to register at once, and he had to take a moment to just look at her and ask himself if he was dreaming again. There she was, Marinette leaving him speechless again.

“Listen, if you don’t want to talk to me anymore, I understand. I just had to tell you this once…”

“Marinette, I would never not want to talk to you”, Luka said promptly, and her mouth twisted when he looked at her. There was confusion in his eyes, and his expression seemed thoughtful.

God, he had so many things to say to her. Like how he couldn’t believe that she meant what she said, how she didn’t have to change to impress him because she was gorgeous and he could never take his eyes off her. (Yes, yesterday she blew up his mind, but that was another story and it didn’t help that someone who knew his weak spots had been hitting them all night before Marinette came to him.)

He wanted to tell her that he was sorry for avoiding her but he couldn’t bare stay in the same room as her without staring at her and how much he loved her and why would she think that he had a girlfriend in the first place?

“Do you think that if I were seeing someone, which to be clear, I’m not, I wouldn’t tell you?”, he asked.

Marinette lowered her head, “N-no… but you’ve stayed all night with that girl and you were all flustered and she’s hot and she’s just like you and I just– I assumed that you were a thing?”, she didn’t dare to say the word “girlfriend” because just the thought of it made her heart ache.

Luka couldn’t control the laugh that escaped from his lips, and Marinette raised her head to glare at him, “I’m serious Luka!”, she said, pushing him away.

That was enough for him to calm down, and his hands reached for her face, he looked at her in the eyes, amusement still clear in his voice, “You’re talking about the girl with red hair right? That’s my best friend”.

Marinette’s mouth dropped open, and her eyes widened as her mind processed the information, “Oh.”

Luka chuckled, and Marinette felt her cheeks burn so hard she had to cover her face with her hands, “I’m so sorry”, she said.

Luka was still smiling when he let his hands reach for hers and he gently pulled them away from her face, “Let me look at you, please”, he whispered, making Marinette shiver. She gulped when she faced him, the soft look in his eyes making her blush again.

His thumbs brushed the back of her hands as he looked for the words to say and comforted her at the same time.

“She was teasing me because of you”, he said eventually, “I got all stupid because I saw you and you looked so different I couldn’t stop staring at you or thinking how good you looked that I thought avoiding you was the best idea. You were mesmerizing, you always are. And you don’t have to change for me to like you because I like you the way you are. I just never expected you to wear anything close to that style so I was struck, and I started acting dumb.”, he concluded, letting out a deep breath.

Marinette’s mouth formed a small ‘o’. God, now she really felt stupid. If he wasn’t holding her hands, she would have slapped herself.

The way Luka was looking at her was making her heart pound loudly in her chest as she registered his words. He likes me. Luka likes me. Oh my God, he LIKES me.

“So… you like like me?”, she asked, hesitantly.

“I thought it was pretty clear by now”, Luka stated, taking one step towards her.

A wide grin spread on Marinette's face, and she tried to bit it down unsuccesfully. Luka didn’t turn his gaze away from her this time. Instead, he raised his hand to cup her cheek, enjoying the warmth she emanated.

“Just to make sure... You’re not mad at me for trying to hit on you while I was drunk, right?”

Luka gave her a fond smile and thumbed her cheek, “I couldn’t be even if I wanted to. Besides, you meant everything you said, right?”

Marinette blushed as she remembered all the words she said to him, but nodded, “Y-Yes...”, she breathed out, and when she looked into his eyes and saw that all of her feelings were reciprocated, she didn’t hesitate to let the words fall from her mouth again, “I love you, Luka”, and Luka answered pressing his forehead on hers, “I love you too”.

They stood in silence, enjoying each other’s presence quietly until Marinette placed her hands on his shoulders and leaned closer, “Can I kiss you now?”, she whispered, her gaze dropping to his red lips.

A wicked grin appeared on Luka’s face as he closed the distance between them, “Are you sure you’re not still drunk?”, he teased.

Marinette gasped and tried to shove him away unsuccessfully since he promptly grabbed her waist and pulled her closer, "I'm just kidding", he said, the happy smile not leaving his face.

She shook her head, but her breath caught in her throat as their eyes met again, and when he leaned in to finally kiss her, all Marinette could think about was how good his lips felt on hers.

[zodiyack]

Jealousy Baby

Requested by anon: Hngggg I LOVE YOUR PATRICK BATEMAN FIC. And i was wondering if I could request another one, where the reader murders the hookers Patrick had sex with out of jealously. And he finds out and finds it kinda hot and confesses to the reader that he likes them too.

Pairing: Patrick Bateman x fem!reader

Warnings: Swearing, murder, sexual references and mentions

Note: Thank you @darling-i-read-it​ for helping me with proof-reading and seeing if the fic was accurate! I was kinda worried, stressing over whether or not it would be good, but Maya really helped calm my nerves! Big thank you! (I really recommend her Patrick fics by the way!)

Taglist: @matth1w @redspaceace​

Masterlist

Careful eyes watched, trained specifically on the woman leaving the apartment. Y/n never thought she’d find herself stalking Patrick’s home, gaze following each hooker after the other, yet here she was. A couple times, she could’ve sworn she saw a girl or two get gifted a violent and bloody end to her stay, but that seemed to be slowing to a halt now.

Was Patrick giving up his killing ways? Was the pleasure overcoming his blood-lust? Or did he have someone specific in mind for his subtle killing spree?

Each time a girl walked out, unharmed, completely casual, Y/n cursed to herself. She thought of ways she could solve the problem, rid herself of the jealousy, but also confess to Patrick before anyone else could.

There was a rather large chance he’d kill her if she did, but she didn’t care. She’d rather die by his hands than any other way, at least she’d be able to tell him the truth.

Feelings aside, she set out to do the bidding of her jealous haze. A knife positioned in her sleeve so perfectly it didn’t touch her skin but still remained invisible to the eye. “Excuse me?”

The blonde turned around, less than modestly dressed, and smirked at Y/n. “Oh hey there! Is there something wrong?” Y/n opened her mouth to speak, but the woman fueled her anger with an interruption, “Could you make it quick, by the way? I’ve got an appointment with a friend of mine, if you know what I mean.”

Y/n raised an eyebrow, confused by the girl’s words.

“Nevermind. Just- get to your point?” Her friendly exterior seemed to vanish at the greeting of Y/n’s obliviousness to her inappropriate reference. Another thing that bothered Y/n. Why couldn’t Patrick pick nicer chicks?

“You and Bateman?”

“Who?” She paused, thinking, before the realization visibly hit her like a dead weight. “Ooooh, Patrick Bateman. Yeah, he’s got a nice bod. Better dick too.”

“How do you know him?”

“I’m a hooker, sweetie. My reference should’ve given it away, if not a tiny bit. I went to Patrick’s place, we hooked up, I left. That’s how it goes... Ya know, maybe he’d let me stay though. I would die for a dick as magical as his.”

“Is that so? Tsk tsk, be careful what you wish for, sweetie.” Venom dripped from the word as she whispered it, mocking the nickname the blonde had dubbed her.

“What?”

Y/n pulled the woman closer to her by her hair, she turned her around and swung her arm around her neck, nudging her arm just enough to get to the knife to slip out. “Enjoy your wish, sweetie.” Blood gushed from the woman’s neck as Y/n’s knife moved in one quick motion across it.

A soft grunt escaped Y/n’s mouth as she felt the warm blood spray on her arm, some of it getting on her face as the body slipped from her grasp. She felt nothing. No regret, no guilt, no sadness. She just murdered someone, and she enjoyed it.

. . .

“Good morning Y/n. How was your night?” One of the employees greeted her, however she was too distracted to notice. Patrick turned his head, confused by the new quietness of his coworker. Normally, he could care less, but, believe it or not, her greetings made his mornings. Most of the time. He elbowed her lightly.

“Oh! It was alright I suppose. Thank you for asking.” She hummed. A sick grin was resting on her face, hidden as she leaned her head down.

Patrick slowly noticed her off behavior throughout the day, but, like mentioned, he didn’t really care. So he brushed it off and packed up. He grabbed his brief case and went home.

There was a girl supposed to arrive in a couple hours, one he’d seen before, this time he was going to give her the ending everyone who slept with Patrick Bateman got.

However.

She didn’t show up.

It was happening often. Or rather, it happened whenever he let a girl go with all her limbs and her heart still beating. They stopped returning.

Bateman walked out of his apartment, looking around for the missing girl. He was just about to head back inside before he heard a muffled scream. Patrick followed the noise, which lead him to quite a sight.

Y/n held her hand over a girl’s mouth, the same girl that was supposed to “visit” Patrick tonight. She was whispering into her ear, holding a knife to her neck with a twisted smile. He waited patiently, watching with amusement and deep curiosity. The same girl he worked with, kind caring and smart, was now preparing to drag a knife across another woman’s throat.

To be honest he didn’t have any hatred towards her or any reasoning to kill her, she was the one person in the office that he could stand. It was entertaining, seeing the most innocent person he knew commit such a violent crime.

“You see, I’m doing a good deed. For you, and me, hun.” She slid the knife against the flesh of the other woman’s throat, watching the blood leave her body, her grin growing wider.

The body dropped to the ground and Y/n shrugged. She picked up the woman, dragging her to the staircase and letting the lifeless body tumble down the stairs, then following after and most likely finding a place to dispose of said body.

Patrick found himself smirking with the side of his mouth, shocked and slightly satisfied. He caught himself, though, and regained his composure, walking back to his apartment and planning what he could do to confront Y/n. 

He needed to have a perfect plan. No scaring her off and no accidentally triggering her into killing him. 

He laughed at himself. 

There was no way she’d be able to kill him. He was bigger than her, faster than her, stronger than her, and obviously had more practice than her.

The blood was still on the carpet, so there was definitely going to be someone getting questioned in the morning. He thought for a moment. Mayhaps, he’d clean up for her this one time, can’t have anyone getting suspicious, could he?

. . .

"Good morning, Y/n.” It wasn’t the first time he’d greeted her, but it was the first that he used her first name. She mumbled a greeting back, but her head shot up when she processed his sentence fully.

“Did I hear you correctly?”

This was a first for him too, the first time he was annoyed by Y/n. Just a bit though. “That question can have many answers, Y/n. It would depend on what you believe I said.”

“I- you did it again!”

“Did what?”

“Used my first name!” she jumped up from her chair.

“Well it is your name, is it not?”

Y/n paused in front of him, “And yours is Patrick. What’re you getting at, Mr. Bateman?” She raised a curious eyebrow.

“I don’t know, Miss L/n, why don’t you tell me? I’m sure the blood near my apartment is a great conversation topic.” He quipped in a whisper. Patrick’s eyes watched Y/n’s face with hidden delight. Her eyes were the size of saucers, but only for a quick second.

“You should go to the authorities, Bateman, would hate to find out some weird murderer is out and about.”

“Yeah, would be a shame if some beautiful murderess caught up to me and put me six feet under, don’t you agree?”

They held eye contact, strong tension filling the air. Finally, they snapped. “Alright Bateman, what did you see?”

“Everything. Poor girl didn’t even get the chance to run before you watched the life drain from her eyes. You made quite a mess,” He walked around her, “luckily, I was there to pick it up for you. Don’t let it happen again.”

“Wait- what? You aren’t gonna kill me, make sure I can’t interfere with your work?”

“No, actually. It’s the opposite, in fact. I’m gonna give you a chance. I already admire you, you’re attractive, you’re not annoying, and now I know you have the killing touch to your life. You’re welcome to join in, as long as you don’t get in the way. Got it?”

She laughed, mostly convinced it was a joke. “You can’t be serious.”

“Why can’t I?”

“Oh dear god, you’re serious.”

“That I am. Now, I hope you’ll take me up on my offer, Y/n.” He walked to the door, stopping before he opened it, “Ah, one last thing.”

“And that is?”

“I’m aware that it’s none of my business, and I wouldn’t like it if you asked such a question of me, but... May I ask what drove you to kill the girls?”

Y/n let the mischievous smirk return to her lips. At work, it was a dangerous thing to show, but this was for Patrick’s eyes and Patrick’s eyes only. “Jealousy, baby.”

[giingers]

can i have 99 with tommy please?

Hope you enjoy! Have some insecure Tommy Shelby!!

99. "I fell in love with you, not them"

The clinking of glasses and the soft murmur of dull conversation fills the large room with a breezy ease that Tommy Shelby is entirely uninterested in. He stands at the back, expensive suit jacket pressed against the wallpapered wall and his only company for now is a glass of Irish whisky.

His eyes find you across the room and he can't help but let a smile twitch across his lips at the sight of you gushing with Ada and Polly. You catch his eye and the beam that spreads across your face is altogether infectious, so much so that he can't help but match it. He smiles back at you and then your eyes slide back to his sisters face who is now busy looking at the shiny ring on your finger.

He can't quite get used to the fact that he is engaged, after considering the idea of permanent loneliness since he'd been a boy. He'd never much been interested in steady relationships. Until he'd met you, of course, after the war.

A daughter of an aristocratic man of prominence with well taught manners and an eloquent accent; you weren't exactly the woman Tommy had envisioned for himself whenever he had rarely pictured his future. But Ada had met you while she had been in her nursing course; and although his fickle sister had cut short her healthcare fantasy, you had become a war nurse, patching up men who'd been sent home from France. Tommy had met you when he had come home, unscathed physically, and your charming smile and kind eyes had captivated him when you'd introduced yourself in Polly's kitchen.

You had been shunned by your family for following the path of becoming a nurse throughout the war. Your father had always had other plans for you that you weren't entirely happy with, but the Shelby's had taken you under their wing like one of their own. Tommy had protected you like he'd never protected anyone before, and sure enough, his quiet fascination had blossomed to full on love.

A love that caused his heart to ache and his blood to boil with desire until he couldn't bare it any longer - kissing you one rainy night outside the Garrison.

Now however, as his eyes trail back to you, he can't quite seem to shake the feeling that he wasn't enough. That this life of hidden threats and vicious danger wasn't what fate had intended for you. That a man as seemingly cold and ambitious as Tommy could be the man for you. Surely you had dreamt of smooth talking gentlemen when you were younger? Men who could bow and simper with gracious courtesies and well rehearsed compliments. Not men like Tommy Shelby who were rough around the edges and only ever mustered up their romanticism in private.

Was he enough? He couldn't really answer that, but inside his head he couldn't stop comparing the Romani boy to those men from your past that you'd grown up with. He looks now to see a man in a tailored suit kiss your hand, and the smile you throw at this stranger makes Tommy clench his jaw.

"Friend of the grooms?" Tommy hears from beside him and the voice makes him tear his eyes to yet another straight backed gentleman with a cocked brow and a champagne flute in his hands. Tommy feels like scoffing at his delicate choice of drink.

Before he can answer though- to tell this man that no he is not friends with the groom, he is the groom- the man stands closer to him and speaks again.

"Forgive me, I can't say I've met you before. So I'm making assumptions and guessing you're part of the grooms party" the man holds out a hand "but pleased to meet you, nonetheless"

"Pleased to meet you" Tommy says rather vaguely but he can't seem to blame the man's speculation. Tommy is hiding down the back at his own engagement party. He is however intrigued now by the strangers seemingly familiarity with you so he decides to probe "You know the bride to be?"

"I fortunately had the pleasure of growing up with, Ms Y/l/n" the man says, his green eyes skipping towards your frame where you now stand by the fireplace, laughing with Arthur "she was everything a proper lady should be, but now I'm quite surprised with how she's changed"

"How so?" Tommy asks, his fingers delving into his pocket to produce a cigarette.

"Well to be honest, between you and I, our close social circle always predicted she'd marry the best of all the other women. Her grandfather was an Earl you see, yet now she's marrying some Gypsy scoundrel from the dirty backstreets of Birmingham. It's ludicrous" the man scoffs into his champagne, taking a hearty swig of it and ripping his eyes from you.

At this Tommy stands up from the wall, shoulders straight and chin cocked in the air. He desperately wants to punch this man for speaking so out of turn, but before he can swing his fist or call for his brothers he feels a soft hand on his arm and smells the delicate sweetness of your perfume.

"Henry, nice to see you. It's been so long" you tell him, your hand giving Tommy's arm a squeeze.

"Yes, a pleasure as always Y/n" Henry nods his head, his eyes falling to your fingers that now wind through Tommy's "your father informed me you were to marry so I came here to offer my congratulations. I see he couldn't make it"

"I'm afraid he could not, along with the rest of my family. However, it matters not" you tell him with a sarcastically hard lilt to your voice "I see you've met Thomas already"

"I'm the Gypsy scoundrel you were just talking about" Tommy grits out, his voice low as to not draw attention from the overpopulated crowd. He can feel you tense up beside him and your eyes narrow hard and cold on the tall figure of Henry.

"What did you call him?" you seeth bitingly, your tone frigid and sharp. Henry stutters a little, straightening his shoulders and fidgeting with the glass in his hands.

"I meant no offense, I was unaware at the time that this man was your intended. Forgive me" he apologises, not meeting either your or Tommy's eyes.

"You can't come into our house and be insulting. I'd like you to leave" you tell him coldly, but Tommy scoffs from beside you as he gently pulls his arm from your grip.

"No need for that, love. Let the man stay and drink the champagne provided to him by someone from the dirty backstreets of Birmingham" Tommy cuts out, knocking back the last of his whisky in typical Shelby fashion and stalking away from you and the gaping gentleman.

You rush after him however, not wanting him to wallow alone and insufferably like always. You find him outside on the gravelled driveway, a now lit cigarette hanging from his mouth.

"Go back inside, love. It's freezing" he says when he turns around at the sound of your footsteps, voice muffled by the cigarette wedged between his lips.

"I'm sorry, Tommy. I'm sorry he said that" you frown as you stand beside him. Your thin red silk dress is measly for this frigid weather and you begin to shiver delicately where you stand, your arms wrapping around yourself.

"Ah, it's not your fault. Here put this on" he shrugs off his black jacket, leaving himself in his tweed waistcoat and white shirt. He doesn't listen to your protests but drapes the heavy material over your shoulders and smiles when you put your arms in the sleeves to find they're too big "besides he wasn't wrong, was he, eh?"

"Whatever do you mean by that, Tommy?" you ask him with a sideways glance, your brow furrowing immensely. He looks off into the dark distance then, his eyes avoiding yours but being lit up each time he takes a drag of his cigarette.

"I'm not like all those people in there. The people you grew up with. I'm not a gentleman" he confesses with a heavy sigh. You sigh too, and lift your arms to wrap around his neck.

"I know that. But I think your roguish behaviour adds to your charm" you smirk at him, but your playfulness does nothing to dispel his insecure worries.

"I'm not polite or modest like they are. I'm not educated properly. I'm never going to be that man, y/n" Tommy tells you, a hand coming to cup your face "I just want you to be sure you know what you're getting yourself into. Maybe you'd be better off with one of those toffs in there"

"I fell in love with you, not them" you tell him softly while tracing his face with your fingertips "if I wanted to marry a toff, as you say, I would've stayed at home and let my father find me a husband. But I didn't want that life, Tommy. I didn't want to marry someone I didn't love. I love you, more than anything. I want you to be my husband"

"You really mean that?" he asks, rare insecurity shadowing in his blue eyes as they're illuminated by the amber glow of his cigarette as he inhales through it deeply.

"I really, really mean that, you foolish man" you laugh, taking his face between your hands "I wish I could marry you right here and now. I think I might burst if I have to wait any longer"

"We won't have to wait much longer, love. Just a few more weeks" Tommy assures you with an absent smile as he flicks the cigarette onto the ground.

"I love you, Tommy" you tell him softly, leaning up to reach his lips.

"I love you too, y/n" he replies, pressing his lips softly to yours. You hold him against you tightly, your arms winding around his neck and your chest pressed against his while his lips partner with yours in a delicate kiss.

You don't care what anyone else thinks of you and Tommy, or how different the worlds you both come from are or how opposite your families are when it comes to society. All you care about is being with him, and being his from this day until your last.

[georgemackayhey]

Rules For Falling In Love: #4

summary: In which George wants to get married. But… you’re not dating. Why should you say yes?

a/n: Hey yall! There were some interesting predictions mixed among the super sweet feedback from the last chapter and all I can say is, I hope you dig this one just as well! There's only ONE MORE chapter left after this one. Can you believe it? Thanks for everyone who've stuck with this sweet little story so far ♡

w/c: 3k

───※ ·❆· ※───

Finally, for once, you had no worries. No work, no award ceremonies, no pending run to the market you were dreading. You threw all the things essential for a weekend getaway into one big bag and watched out of the passenger window as George drove to the little beachside town where Dean, or rather, his lady, had invited you to stay.

You met Dean and Claire outside of the town's main drag, where markets and buskers and icecream stands gathered along a winding boardwalk that looked out over the distant ocean. Introductions were hurried as Dean had his eye on a paper map, with a bistro circled. Food driven as always, you chuckled to yourself.

The four of you strolled along the wooden path that creaked under every dragging step. The wind tousled your hair as families of all kinds crept past, laughing, and posing for photos in front of pop up shops and the view of the roaring ocean in the opposite direction.

George threw on arm round your shoulder as you both soaked up the sights, listening to Dean tell a story. He walked backward to watch your smiles crack into laughter when his punch lines hit. Claire lingered by his side, looking to him with a wide grin, leading the way all the same.

She went well with Dean, you thought. Her dark hair and her bright eyes contrasted his own in perfect harmony. The sun to his moon... Claire kept her sights on Dean, clearly love-struck. And even when she spun around to answer one of George's long-winded questions, Claire glanced to Dean as she spoke, and he watched on with a similar grin. If there was any question of the girls fitting in with the group you and the other two men made up, her clear adoration for your friend was answer enough.

When you made it to the bistro at the end of the walk, and a tired eyed host informed your party would have a bit of a wait, none of you seemed to mind. You settled on a bench in the crisp shade, watching Dean pull Claire into the sun for a round of selfies.

"They're made for each other, aren't they?" George gushed, watching your friend and his lady from across the way.

"A good match indeed." You chuckled, nodding approvingly. You joked for a while how it felt like you were both watching Dean grow up and bring a date home for the holidays. And when you finally got to sit around and enjoy a meal together, it seemed as if Claire had been a permanent fixture long before now. She asked about your life and listened on with care. She gushed over George's talent in the film he and Dean had just finished promoting. And Dean babbled over her, telling the story of how he'd met Claire and what kind of a fool he made of himself in his attempt to ask her out.  You all laughed and ate and kept on laughing when it was time to roam around the main drag once more.

Then, you all darted after window displays that caught your eye, stopping to greet a very excited dog who couldn't help but sniff your shoes on it's trot past. It was the perfect afternoon full of simple fun.

You split up inside a bookstore that seemed to sell little bits of everything besides rows of novels. Dean and George were taken by a large collection of war-torn photographs, huddled together to turn the pages and spout facts. You shook your head with a chuckle as you floated on past them toward a wall of fake flowers and handcrafted bookmarks.

As you reached out to admire some of the trinkets, Claire floated closer to do the same.

"Dean's told me you and George have only just gotten married. I thought surely you'd been together for years, the way you two go together." Claire turned her pleasant smile in your direction. You couldn't help but let out a laugh. This was a different version of the same type of question you always got. But it didn't make you nervous as it had the first couple of times, all those years ago. You'd come to expect it, now.

"Yes, we've known each other for almost ever." You shrugged, pulling a marble toned bookmark from the shelf out of curiosity. "Only now I suppose we're 'official'."

Claire gave you a slow, sage nod, grimacing at a gaudy display of paperclips as you sauntered through the aisles.

"I feel like I've known Dean for decades." She smiled, and you did too, coming upon a row of children's books under an entrance of paper planes hanging by string you couldn't see. "And I can't imagine being with anyone else, but the idea of marriage has never settled with me." The girl shrugged, speaking toward her risen shoulder as if making a confession. It was your turn to nod, understanding more than she probably knew.

"It's a hassle to change your name." You let out a soft laugh, glancing to notice George and Dean pointing to another book in the same section you'd left them behind in. "And you don't need a piece of paper to prove anything, but... it is nice." You seemed to decide. Claire listened, watching the wheels turn in your head as you spoke your thoughts aloud. You spun off into some ill rehearsed monologue about how seriously George had taken his commitment to remain a team with you, how valued it made you feel. All while forming your thoughts into words, new thoughts nagged you in the back of your head. You and George had only ever agreed to get married for convenience, what gave you the right to preach the value and meaning of the tradition you'd gone through with so unconventionally?

"Shit, that was beautiful." Claire let out a stunned chuckled, looking to you as if she'd just met you for the first time all over again.

"I really don't know how I got so lucky." You spoke, realizing that if you'd failed to see the importance of the decision you'd made until now, you must not have been worthy of the title that linked you to George. You realized just how deeply rooted your connection with him was. And you were suddenly wrought with nerves that the foundation on which you built your promises to George, weren't valuable enough to make your marriage last. And you suddenly realized just how desperately you wanted it to last. And that was a scary new thought.

///

Claire had found the perfect cottage in the hillside near the ocean, up and away from the bustling beachside town. She raced up the paint chipped the front porch and waved you all into the front door, as the sun started to set through the dense leafy trees that surrounded the place.

"Oh, it's so perfectly cozy!" Claire exclaimed, skipping through tight doorways. The dull white trim and narrow wooden hallways were charming as could be. The living space was complete with a stone fireplace, and there was a massive patio out of the kitchen that managed to overlook the distant ocean, inside the gated confinement of the lush back garden.

George insisted his friends take the master bedroom since they were the hosts. The small spare would be just fine for the two of you, wouldn't it? You'd been on more than your fair share of trips and surprise sleepovers where you'd had to share close quarters with George, before now.  

But until the time came to fight over which side of the bed to stay on, everyone found themselves out back in the comfy cushioned patio furniture, watching the sun turn the beach golden while dense clouds turned the sky dark overhead. You all stayed there for a while, chatting about the places you'd wound up earlier in the day. Laughing about some of the people you'd met in passing. George insisted you tell some old story he knew the details of just as well. Dean already knew most of your stories, together and apart, but he still laughed along as you told them to Claire.

When it was her turn to speak, she mostly spoke of Dean, how he'd charmed her family, how some of their adventures together panned out. He kept his moonstruck gaze settled on her, as you and George exchanged knowing glances to one another.

When the air grew misty and cold, you headed in to start a fire in the living room. Claire said something about having brought along drinks to mix and headed to the kitchen after you. George went in search of a sweater as a chill sent Dean in too.

You listened as everyone flutter about the rented space, spouting lose plans for the next, and the last day you'd spend on the mini getaway. You managed to spark the perfect fire in the stone place, as someone chose a record from the vintage player in the corner. How lovely for the renters to leave some albums for their guests, you thought.

Dean soon stole your attention by creping into the room and clearing his throat. You whipped around from studying the flickering flames to see Dean giving you an expectant glare, as if you were the one who'd approached him with something to say.

"What?" You worried.  Dean only grabbed you by the elbow and led you closer to the crackling fire, away from the open kitchen doorway.

"Is something... going on?" He asked in a nervous hush, glancing back to where George had taken to help mix drinks.

"Oh God, why did George say something? Is he mad at me? He'll cry if he sees me cry and so he'll go too long without telling me if-."

"No..." Dean laughed unbelievably, stalling your rambling. "No, that's the thing. You've always been a convincing couple. But this is- you both seem... different. Has something changed, at long bloody last? Are you, ya know... down to one-bedroom, back home?"

"Dean. Nothing has changed. George and I still have never slept together, and I can't believe you're asking, after all this time." He was always supposed to be the friend who understood, who was the only one saving all the dumb questions people at parties would always ask.

"First of all... you said never have, not never will. See? Secondly. You're married. Things obviously aren't the same as they were when I met the both of you."

"You are reading in between lines that aren't there."

"No, I'm looking across the room right now and watching George watch you, and as his best friend I can tell you that there are lines you're not acknowledging."

Another voice cut through your frantic whispered argument with Dean.

"What are you two up to?" George quirked a brow, holding out two perfectly mixed drinks for either of you to take.

"Nothing." You responded to George, but looked to Dean, more so making your point clear that there was nothing to argue about any further. He pursed his lips, rolled his eyes, and turned to smile and thank George for the drink.

Your group took to the cozy living room, around the warm fire as rain started to pelt at the windows. As you sat, like usual, unfamiliar thoughts crept out of the shadowy dungeons of your mind. A few dozen "what if's?" floated about your head, growing louder every time George locked eyes with you, asked you to remember a certain story, told his own on your behalf. You watched him speak, sipping your drink as you silently studied George. You watched his hands fan about as he spoke, before his fingers rested on your knee. Was it just a reflex? You felt him sink lower into the sofa at your side, leaning toward you to rest his drink on the coffee table, letting his shoulder stay pressed against yours while Claire told a crazy story about her time at Uni.

You caught Dean's glances, the question in his eye. He was silently asking you what he dared to address earlier. The question that hadn't left your mind since he'd brought it up.

When the fire started to die, and the rain became more than just background noise, you decided to call it a night. Everyone went their separate ways, parting with quips about how excited they were for the last day of roaming about the quaint seaside city.

You sat up in the warm, blanket dense bed while George took his turn cleaning up for the evening. You opened a book in your lap, but you didn't read.  You totally zoned out, lip trapped between your teeth as your brian drifted completely away from the lines on the pages.

Only when George eased into his side of the bed with a stretch were you broken from the daze. You turned to him with a question you hadn't realized was on the tip of your tongue

"What did you think of me when we first met?" You recalled the very day you moved across the neighborhood, how Georges parents were the first to offer your family baked goods and a friendly smile. You didn't meet George until school began, but when you realized he belonged to the neighbors your family had become accustomed to chatting with at the end of the block, it all made sense.

"I thought you'd be a big bully." George teased, settling under the covers as you scoffed in reply. "Really, you were too pretty. I thought surely you'd torment the school like in all the pretty girls do in American teen dramas."

"Well, you looked like all the boys on the rugby team, so I supposed I thought the same." You jeered, shutting your book. "I was truly shocked to learn there was a big brain inside that lovely head of yours."

George smiled, nearly rolled his eyes.

"Remember bonding over being little teenaged nerds, together?" You asked with a breathy chuckle, setting your book aside. George seemed to study you seriously for a beat before responding.

"Course I remember. Just because we've spent every day together since then doesn't mean the details blur together."

"So then you haven't blocked out that embarrassing New Year's Eve party, then?" You laughed, watching George bite back a reluctant smile.

"Unfortunately, no I haven't managed to forget." He grinned. "There's this girl who likes to remind me of it every holiday season, and sometimes more than that." George playfully glared your way. You'd both been keeping each other secrets for so long, there was no worry over using them as blackmail. Your only fear was the day you and George stopped keeping tabs.

For another few minutes, you rambled over the silliest times you'd spent together. The time he got so scared in the middle of haunted house maze that he let out a shriek, that you took the blame for when your friends stalled ahead to make sure you two were alright. Or the summer you had a reoccurring dream about meeting Robert DeNiro that ended up coming true when George introduced you to the icon at some award show.

George laughed along as memories kept popping into your mind. You chattered about them until your heart grew heavy, for reasons you couldn't begin to understand. When George started telling some story about Dean, you remembered your friends suspicions from earlier. You were no longer questioning how George might have felt. You've moved on to wondering exactly what it was you were feeling.

You were zoning out again, Georges rambles sounded distant and muffled as you tried to process what was going through your head. Why your throat was going dry? What was going on? And right when you felt the threat of tears burning the backs of your eyes, you snapped out of it, and determined you were being utterly ridiculous.

"Hey, what's wrong?" George turned toward you, worried, noticing your glossy eyes. You were quick to suck it all back in, shove it all way deep down.

"I... I really don't know." You shrugged because you didn't. You reached over to flick the bedside lamp off with a pathetic sniffle. When you turned back to settle in for the night, George was there, reaching out to you. You couldn't help but follow his lead, as he nudged you toward the pillows, leaving a warm comforting hand splayed across your shoulder as his ocean colored eyes searched yours.

"For better or worse, right?" George asked in a hush. His way of assuring you could tell him anything. But you didn't have words for feelings you didn't understand, yourself. You just gave him the nicest smile you could muster and closed your eyes for the evening.

///

You woke up early, you could tell by the way the sun was peaking over the frame of your window. What you couldn't figure out, though, was how Geogre had stayed so close to you all night long. You were pinned under his arm, close enough that you debated staying there to relish the comfort. But your eyes wouldn't close again, and you didn't disturb his peace on your silent mission to get up. So you did, headed for the kitchen to fix some tea and try and sort out your jumbled thoughts in the blip of time you had so quietly all to yourself.

But you mustn't have been as clever as you'd hoped, because no sooner than you'd started the kettle and found some breakfast to cook, George was up. He looked like he'd rather be sleeping, as he shuffled in the room, musing his flaxen hair and holding back a yawn.

You gave him a hushed good morning, in case the others were still down for the count. George hardly greeted you. Instead, he sauntered closer to peer over your shoulder at the food you'd found to cook, and wrapped his arms around you in a loose hug. Maybe he thought you were still upset. He was always quick to comfort...

"It's very hard to make breakfast this way." You laughed, all the while savoring the contact like you hadn't been touched in ages. Geogre hummed, reluctantly letting go when the kettle rang. He went about fixing tea for the both of you when Dean shuffled in.

The dark-headed fellow traded chipper good mornings and gave Geogre strict instructions on how to fix his tea. While Geogre spun around with a chuckle, he brushed past you and letting his fingers trail across your arm before he was too far away to reach for another cup. That's when Dean shot you a look reminiscent of the one he kept flashing you last night. You gave him the smallest shake of your head to confirm you hadn't gotten a better idea of what was going on. In fact, you were more confused than ever.

You and Georg always discussed everything. Game planning was your best combined talent. From what to watch on movie night, to how to deal with disasters and destruction, you'd always talk through everything as it happened, together. But you couldn't talk to Geogre about this... you tried last night, and look what kind of confused mess that conversation made you into. That's when you realized how easily you settled under his quick comfort. And that you longed to cuddle just as close for no good reason... That's when you realized that you weren't very confused at all. You realized exactly what you were feeling. Now you just needed to accept it...

───※ ·❆· ※───

taglist: @whenthe-smokeisinyoureyes @andux @imaginationandlove @velvetgoldsilver​ @queen-bunnyears @maria-josefin @dearevansamham @belledamsceno@nilletellsstories @loulouloueh @visionsofmelodrama @haileymorelikestupid

[artificialqueens]

Off Limits, Chapter 4 (Bitney/Adorney) - Veronica/Albatross

A/N: Hey guys! This is the companion story to “No Strings Attached.” Both ships are in both stories, but generally, “No Strings Attached” is Willaska-focused and this one is Bitney-focused. (Link to all chapters in order.)

Chapter Summary: A girls’ night at the local gay club just might change everything. With Special Guest Star Adore Delano.

(Special thanks to the wonderful @opalescent-cheetah and her dad for being our Australian slang consultants. XOXO!)

***

Courtney really couldn’t figure out why she was so anxious. She hung out with gay people every day. Why was a gay bar so intimidating, so much that her stomach was in knots? She supposed the idea of looking or feeling out of place was a bit disconcerting, as she’d explained to Willam earlier when they were getting ready, before Willam had tossed a dress at her face and ordered her to calm down. Now, she sat squished between Willam and Alaska in the back of the uber, leg bouncing nervously until Willam gave her thigh a pinch.

But once they got there, her nerves settled almost immediately. It was a lively, crowded club—flashing lights and thumping bass, people packed onto the dance floor. Easy to blend in; nothing to be afraid of.

And then, to her delight, a live band took the stage. (Bianca and Willam, on the other hand, weren’t so happy about that, groaning and taking the opportunity to get drinks for the group.)

The lead singer was amazing. A sultry voice, with full lips and hazel eyes, dark hair dyed a vivid emerald green. Even her name was sexy. Adore.

Courtney was enchanted, watching in breathless excitement throughout her whole first set, barely noticing when Willam slipped a drink into her hand. When they paused for a break, she turned to the others, eyes wide.

“Omigod, she was amazing! Wasn’t she amazing?” Courtney gushed.

“Yeah, she was really good,” Alaska agreed, an amused look on her face.

“We should find out if they play here often!” Courtney continued. “I mean, she’s totally worth coming back for, right? I mean they. The whole band.”

Courtney barely had time to blush at that, turning back to the stage to wait in anticipation for the next set, pretending that she didn’t notice Willam and Bianca rolling their eyes like slot machines. If they wanted to be killjoys, that was fine. Courtney was still going to enjoy the music.

The band did another short set—too short, if you asked Courtney, who felt like Adore’s eyes were boring right into her soul at one point. She watched her, absolutely transfixed, letting Adore’s smoky voice wash over her in tingling waves. When they were done, Courtney cheered loudly as Adore gave an awkward little bow. She was incredibly talented, but clearly a little insecure, and it made Courtney’s heart go soft and fluttery.

“Finally,” Willam said, as the DJ took over again. “Now we can dance!”

She dragged the girls into the dance floor, and they followed, laughing. After a song or two (honestly, Courtney couldn’t keep track—unlike Adore’s band, all the thumping house music sounded the same to her), she noticed that Bianca had slipped away, probably to get a drink. She decided to go and join her at the bar, get another drink herself.

But as she made her way towards the bar, she saw that Bianca hadn’t made it that far. She stood at a cocktail table, just past the dance floor. She was in the midst of what seemed like a riveting conversation with an unfamiliar girl. A busty redhead in a flower crown, leaning in with a hand on Bianca’s arm. Whatever she whispered was apparently hilarious, because Bianca burst out laughing.

Courtney wrinkled her nose, feeling a bit offended. They were supposed to be having a fun night out together. Girl bonding and all that nonsense. So why Bianca decided to chat up this random girl was beyond her. She kept walking to the bar, sure that Bianca hadn’t even noticed her. Not when she had such a clearly experienced girl in front of her, Courtney thought bitterly.

As she tried to wedge her way through the crowd to get the bartender’s attention, Courtney felt her heart stall for just a moment when she spotted Adore at the opposite end of the counter, ordering a drink of her own.

It was only when Adore’s eyes shifted in her direction that she became all too aware that she was staring. Shell-shocked, she couldn’t bring herself to look away. She was certain she had a deer-in-headlights expression on her face but her body felt paralyzed, unable to even form a small smile, just something to make her seem like less of a total creeper.

A knowing smirk appeared on Adore’s perfect red lips and soon a little wink was sent Courtney’s way.

She cast her eyes down in embarrassment, pretending to be deeply interested in the grain of the wood on the bar, when by some miraculous chance, the bartender turned her way.

“What can I get you, sis?”

“Oh, uh...gin and tonic with lime?”

He nodded, and only then did Courtney realize that the arm sliding in beside her belonged to Adore, the chipped black nail polish and fingerless gloves a dead giveaway. She looked up, meeting her piercing hazel eyes and this time, managing a small smile.

“Hey,” Adore said.

“Hi,” Courtney replied breathlessly. “You were amazing tonight. I wasn’t expecting-um, to see such a great performance. I know these places usually just use DJs all the time. But it was really so good...”

Realizing that she was babbling, Courtney clamped her mouth shut.

“Are you British?” Adore asked, head tilted.

“No, Australian.”

“Ahh. I love girls with accents,” Adore remarked, taking a swig of her beer.

“I mean, technically, we all have accents,” Courtney couldn’t help correcting, cringing inwardly at how basic and bratty she must have sounded.

But Adore simply laughed, a throaty laugh that Courtney found lovely. Once again, the bartender had perfect timing, sliding her drink over to her. A welcome distraction from her awkward babbling. She pulled a card from her little purse, but Adore stopped her, covering Courtney’s hand with her own.

“Put her drink on my tab,” Adore told him, and Courtney was grateful for the dim lighting that masked her hot red cheeks.

“Thanks,” she said softly, barely audible over the pounding music.

“Don’t worry about it, cutie,” Adore assured as she leaned in with an inviting smile on her lips, “Just tell me your name and we’ll call it even.”

A sense of familiarity washed over Courtney as she vaguely recalled the number of times men had tried similar lines with her. Back then it always felt cliché or just mildly pathetic yet when those words fell from Adore’s lips? Plump, cherry-red lips that Courtney couldn’t keep her eyes off of?

It was strangely appealing this time around.

“Courtney.”

“Courtney,” Adore repeated, imitating her accent, lips curling around the syllables in a way that made Courtney shiver. “Do you like shots, Courtney?”

“Mmm...when they’re sweet?”

Adore grinned again, ordering two lemon drops. While the bartender got to work, Adore draped an arm across Courtney’s shoulders.

“So...I haven’t seen you here before. Are you new to the area?”

“No, I’ve lived here for a couple of years,” Courtney told her, adding coyly, “It’s just...my first time here. Tonight.”

“Mmm.” Adore handed her a shot, toasting her gently. “To first times.”

“Cheers.”

They tossed back the shots, giggling.

“So, uh, I have a confession to make,” Adore said.

Courtney turned toward her curiously, causing her arm to slide off her shoulders. But instead of removing it all the way, Adore merely adjusted, fingers sliding across her shoulder blades, making her shiver.

“When I was singing...I uh, kind of noticed you.”

“You did?” Courtney’s eyes grew, the idea of Adore picking her out of the crowd giving her a thrill.

“Yeah. Couldn’t you tell? I was singing right to you.”

“I assumed everyone thought you were singing to them,” Courtney said, twirling a lock of hair in her hand as Adore slowly shook her head. “Well...I’m flattered.”  

Mustering up every bit of false bravado she could, Courtney offered a confident smile, practically daring Adore to make another move. Time seemed to slow down as Adore put one finger under her chin, tilting her face up, then leaning in, eyes falling shut…

***

What the fuck was she doing?

Bianca spotted her immediately from across the bar. Flirting with that random green-haired singer, the one with the stupid name...Adore...gazing up at her as if she was the best thing since sliced fucking bread. It was strangely unsettling, seeing her act that way, and Bianca wondered how much she’d had to drink. Better keep an eye on her...just to make sure she’s okay.

She was about halfway through her own drink when she chanced to look away for just a moment to see if her other roommates could be spotted somewhere in the mass of people still crowding the dance floor. Failing that, she turned her attention back to Courtney to find Adore tilting her chin up and hovering only an inch or two above her lips.

Bianca damn near marched herself right over but in less than a second, Courtney closed that gap herself and almost instantly the pair was making out at the bar for everyone to see. Her jaw actually dropped at the sight and not too far behind it, so did her stomach.

It was awful watching Courtney kiss someone else, even worse knowing that Courtney had initiated it herself and Bianca was left to watch it all in a helpless, paralyzed state of shock. She couldn’t tear her eyes away for anything, no matter how much she wanted to. No, instead her focus remained zeroed in on Courtney, until, to her sick relief, they finally broke apart.

There was dark red lipstick smudged overtop Courtney’s own light pink but that was only a thin thought in Bianca’s mind. What caught her attention was that glassy, hazy look in Courtney’s eyes. One Bianca had come to recognize as she spent more time in bars in the late hours of the night.

Shit.

Not that Adore seemed to have any qualms about that fact—if she’d even noticed, that is. Even from the distance Bianca kept, she could see that smug smirk on her stupid face, particularly as her head jutted in the direction of the bathrooms.

Courtney’s response was delayed, as if she were trying to figure out what Adore was trying to imply, but to Bianca’s dread there was a distracted nod of the head and soon the two disappeared into the depths of the crowd.

Well, not if Bianca could help it.

Downing the rest of her drink and slapping some money onto the counter, she bolted from the bar and followed after those drunken idiots like a woman on a mission.

***

The thing that struck Courtney about Adore, more than anything, was how normal it felt to be with her. The ritual of a few flirtatious smiles and heated looks, some light touching to feel out the temperature.

She missed this simplicity, she realized. The obvious mutual attraction, the flirting with the intent of pursuit...basking in the simple knowledge that she was wanted.

There was no second-guessing, no wondering if it was just a long-winded joke or worrying that it would be called off in just a minute or two.

It was like returning home after a long vacation and finding everything still in the same place as you left it...it was just...comfortable.

Even kissing her...it felt easy and natural and fun. So when Adore suggested that they move from the bar to a location more private, she’d been delighted to follow her.

In the bathroom, Adore pressed her up against the sink, plush lips kissing her deeply, as if to devour her, wandering hands making Courtney’s heart race with excitement. They were so caught up in one another that they didn’t even notice someone else had entered the room until Bianca quite loudly cleared her throat, heels clacking on the tile floor as she approached.

When Courtney raised her eyes and spotted the intruder, her stomach dropped straight to her feet and she gasped softly. Bianca’s arms were crossed in front of her chest as she glowered deep into Courtney’s soul, filling her with shame. She gulped, fingers untangling from Adore’s messy green waves to wipe her sweaty palms on her sides.

“Hi Bianca,” she said, offering a sheepish smile.

Seemingly unconcerned with the new development, Adore moved her attention from Courtney’s lips down to her neck. Grazing her lips along the skin, there was just a hint of a mocking undertone as she asked, “Girlfriend?”

Feeling her cheeks flush from both Adore’s brazen gesture and the judgemental arching of Bianca’s brow, Courtney was forced to admit as her mouth went dry with embarrassment, “Um, no...roommate.”

“Ah,” Adore murmured between the series of light kisses she’d been placing along the expanse of Courtney’s neck. She was acting rather nonchalant, as if this weren’t the first time she’d been caught in such a situation. In fact, she seemed quite comfortable right now, almost pleased by the turn of events. Nuzzling into Courtney’s neck with her soft cheek, Adore shifted her gaze to Bianca and asked teasingly, “So, you watching or joining?”

Courtney’s laugh was immediate and loud. She was all but cackling at the question but Bianca looked far from amused. Courtney clapped a hand over her mouth as Bianca answered through gritted teeth.

A simple, disgusted, “Neither.”

Brushing off the reaction, Adore resumed marking Courtney’s throat with her lipstick. Her hands, which had been resting on Courtney’s hips, moved down to her thighs, finding the hem of her dress and working their way inside.

Courtney wasn’t sure if the rapid pounding of her heart was from Adore’s fingers, now tracing the edge of her panties, or from Bianca’s continued harsh glare, eyes black as midnight as she spat out, “I think you’ve had enough. Let’s go.”

“I don’t want to go,” Courtney replied, voice sounding small and petulant.

“Courtney…” Bianca’s voice was tense, almost a growl. “I’m just trying to look out for you, okay? You’re drunk. You need to come home.”

“Dude…” Adore turned her head toward Bianca, brow furrowed. “Are you her roommate or her mother?”

Courtney bit the interior of her bottom lip as she tried to think of something to say. Her hands slipped from Adore’s hair and landed on her shoulders, but whether that was for comfort's sake or to push her away, it was hard to say. She felt small and unjustifiably guilty as she remained trapped between Adore’s warm body and Bianca’s harsh, unhappy scowl.

Truth be told, she didn’t feel very drunk at all. Certainly not enough to be escorted home like a child. But something about Bianca trying to protect her, even in the cold and disapproving way she was doing it, softened her desire to be defiant. And wasn’t that what she wanted all along anyway? To spend some quality time with her roommate?

“Well?” Bianca snapped. “Are you coming or not?”

It was her tone, more than anything, that made Courtney’s decision for her. Maybe Courtney was being stupid and irresponsible. But she was also an adult who was having fun, and Bianca had no right to judge her and scold her like that. Hell, her own mum had let her traipse off to a new continent for university without the slightest bit of concern. So why on earth did Bianca think she could intimidate her into cutting a great night short?

“Nah,” Courtney said simply, eyes narrowing slightly as she stared Bianca down. She felt Adore smile into her skin, teeth grazing her neck.

Bianca watched her for a few more moments, expression hard as stone, before turning on her heel with a scoff and storming from the bathroom in a fit of anger.

Courtney turned back to Adore, capturing her lips in a deep, messy kiss, adamant to keep enjoying herself.

But after all that, her heart wasn’t in it anymore. No matter what she did, all she could see were Bianca’s angry eyes flashing in the dim light. Even the sweet taste of Adore’s lip gloss turned bitter in her mouth. She pulled back, struggling to catch her breath, surprised and embarrassed to find tears trickling down her cheeks.

“Shit, are you okay?” Adore asked. She grabbed a bunch of paper towels, running them under the water and handing them over.

“Yeah, I’m sorry.” Courtney sniffled, wiping her eyes. “It’s not you, I don’t know why I’m…”

After studying her for a few moments, Adore ventured softly, “You like her, huh?”

Courtney bit her lip. Was she really gonna admit it, out loud? She’d barely admitted it to herself yet. But in a way, this was probably the safest place to do it. After all, Adore didn’t know her, or Bianca, or any of their friends.

She nodded, whispering, “Yeah.”

Confessing felt better than she thought it would. Cleansing.

“I guess I have for awhile, but I just...I don’t think she feels the same way.”

Adore laughed at that. Almost too hard, and for a second Courtney felt the indignation rising in her chest. Until Adore leveled her gaze back down at Courtney and said definitively, “Yeah, she does. She absolutely does. I would literally bet my mom’s life on it. And like, I love my mom.”

“Why do you...think that?” Courtney asked, a surge of hope running through her.

“Because, she barreled in here like a jealous girlfriend. And that whole thing about you being too drunk? We had one shot. And you had a couple sips of a cocktail. You’re fucking fine.”

Courtney had to admit that Adore had a point. But what about all of the times Bianca had made it clear that she wasn’t interested? Her shoulders slumped.

“I don’t know what to do,” she admitted.

“Look, she’s obviously a bit of an idiot, for making you feel bad and doubt yourself instead of just telling you how she feels. So you’re probably gonna have to be the one to bring it up,” Adore said. “I mean, I assume. Maybe she’s a gigantic idiot who will deny it even after that. Only one way to find out.”

Courtney nodded, still not quite sure that Adore was right. Bianca had spent so much time adamantly stating why she would never want to be with someone like her. Someone inexperienced. And she had to know how Courtney felt. She had to. So if she felt the same way, why would she have done that?

Either way, Courtney knew that her fun in the club was over for the night. She gave Adore a hug and started making her way back through the club, checking the bar, the back room with the pool tables, the booths along the side. She spotted Willam and Alaska on the dance floor, oblivious to the drama, and decided to leave them be. But where was Bianca?

She stepped outside, into the cool night air, pulling out her phone. Only then did she see the brief message in their group text.

B: Tired, on my way home.

Courtney heaved a deep sigh, tears filling her eyes once again. She had no desire to return to the dance floor with Willam and Alaska; in that moment, she felt overwhelmingly alone.

“Hey,” a voice said, and she looked up to find Adore standing behind her, cigarette in hand. “No luck?”

Courtney shook her head, brushing the tears away with the back of her hand.

“Well, I’m about to take off. Do you want a ride?”

“You’re driving?!”

“No! I mean like share my uber. I might be a little drunk, but I’m not a moron.”

“Oh. Thanks.” Courtney smiled.  

In the car, Adore put her number into Courtney’s phone, instructing her to text the next day with a full report.

“So listen...she didn’t seem that stupid to me,” Adore said. “But if it turns out that she’s a huge, giant idiot? Then I owe you lunch.”

“Deal,” Courtney agreed with a laugh, already feeling a bit better about the whole thing.

***

Very softly, just in case Bianca was in fact asleep by now, Courtney pushed open her bedroom door and peered inside. It was dark and Bianca’s form was perfectly visible lying beneath the sheets but it was impossible to tell if she was awake or not. Thinking it best just to leave things alone for now, Courtney started to back away until she heard a gruff, “What?”

“You’re awake?” she asked stupidly.

“Clearly,” Bianca replied, undoubtedly rolling her eyes as she sat up. “What do you want?”

“I...Can we talk for a minute? About the club.”

Bianca was silent for a moment, eyeing Courtney up and down as if searching for something. With each passing second it seemed more and more likely that she’d refuse but to Courtney’s relief, she relented with an unfriendly, “Fine. Make it quick.”

Swallowing back her nerves and clumsily flipping the light switch, Courtney began with an apologetic, “I’m sorry you walked in on that. Probably not what you were-"

“I had an idea,” Bianca interjected with a little huff, “Saw that show of yours at the bar. Everyone saw.”

The tone stung. More than Courtney wanted to admit and more than she allowed to show. But if Bianca’s intent was to get her angry too, she failed. Courtney knew coming into this that she had to stay level-headed and no matter how good it might feel in the moment just to vent out her frustrations and storm off, it’d only end up doing more damage later on. Instead, she took a moment to collect herself, taking in a calming breath to clear her clouding mind and began reproachfully.

“If you knew, why did you-” As the words fell from her mouth something occurred to her. Bianca’s eyes had hardened and her lips pressed into a tense line as she bit back more of what she wanted to say. It was in that moment that everything clicked and Courtney felt a wave of clarity washing over her. “You wanted to interrupt,” she accused.

Her head was spinning with questions but she knew she was right the second Bianca flinched. She was glaring at Courtney, almost as if trying to intimidate her into giving up this line of questioning, but after a short pause, Courtney was shocked to hear a firm confirmation of, “Yes.”

Exasperated, Courtney demanded to know, “Wha-Why?”

There was another delay in response but what exactly for, Courtney could only hazard a guess. Bianca’s glare had yet to lighten as her eyes bore deep into Courtney’s soul. Her voice was cold and nearly emotionless as she stated, “You were drunk.”

“I wasn’t. But I was having fun.”

A flash of something appeared on Bianca’s face but in an instant it was gone. It was too quick for Courtney to recognize what it was but she knew she had seen it. She had to convince Bianca to be honest with her, even if it was uncomfortable.

Slowly crossing the room, clearly not trusting her own shaky legs any more than she had to, Courtney sat on the edge of Bianca’s bed. She ignored the way Bianca leaned away from her as if she didn’t care. She understood all too well by now that this whole act just wasn’t the Bianca she knew. It was just a front for something else and she had to find out what.

“Bianca,” she inquired gently, “Why'd you want to ruin that?”

There was no answer, only a judgemental glare as Bianca remained silent and stared her down. But Courtney refused to let this go. She knew she was close to some kind of answer and nothing was going to deter her from that.

Daring to place her hand over one of Bianca’s, she again asked, “B? Talk to me. You can tell me anything, I promise.”

There was a roll of Bianca’s eyes as she scoffed at the statement. It hurt but not enough to push Courtney away or weaken any of her resolve. All she did was wait patiently, running her thumb against Bianca’s until she got a response. Just some kind of answer to explain Bianca’s behavior.

And finally after a few moments, Bianca relented enough to give an unwilling and rather confusing reply of, “Cause it shouldn't have been like that.”

Tilting her head just slightly, Courtney probed for more of an explanation and it was there that Bianca’s restraint finally ran out.

In one long huff she blurted out, “Okay, fine! You wanna fuck a girl? Go right ahead, I don’t care. Hell, go fuck a hundred girls if that's what you want! But damn it, Courtney...your first time, it shouldn’t be some drunken hookup in the bathroom of a sketchy-ass nightclub. You know that,” she stressed. Her eyes finally grew soft as she admitted, “You deserve better than that, you know?”

Quickly defending herself, Courtney began with, “Well, she offered to-” then thinking better of it, she soon cut herself off. “Um...yeah...I guess I get what you’re saying.”

Darting her eyes away for a moment, Bianca reluctantly added, “I wasn’t sure how much you drank with her...And maybe I misjudged that. But like, I didn't want you regretting it tomorrow morning, okay? You’re not like Willam. This kind of shit means more to you.”

Though she wasn’t sure she agreed with Bianca on everything, she was still touched by the reasoning. Bianca was just trying to look out for her, it seemed. She went about it horribly but the intentions were good. Giving her roommate a grateful smile, she murmured, “Thanks,” and pulled her in for a tight hug.

At first, Bianca froze at the gesture but in just a second, she recovered and returned the embrace. A soft sigh was released into the air but even still, she just couldn’t let herself feel entirely relaxed. She had so many questions left on her mind but none of them she felt comfortable asking...even after this tentative truce.

*

Bianca pulled away from the hug to look into Courtney’s face, one burning question she just had to know.

Without daring to look directly into Courtney’s eyes, she carefully asked, “So...uh...did you two…?”

It took Courtney a second to catch on to Bianca’s train of thought but once she had, she gave a slow shake of her head. Instantly it felt like a weight had dropped from Bianca’s shoulders and she could truly relax. A large part of her felt immense relief at the answer but another small part was beating herself up for it.

Regardless, Bianca wasn’t going to press for any more answers, so she let this particular conversation die with a soft acknowledgment of, “Okay.”

“I couldn’t really have fun after you fucking blew your top,” Courtney said.

“Oh...sorry.” A smile began to grow on Bianca’s lips and the longer she looked at Courtney, the bigger it got.

Seemingly confused by the sudden shift in attitude, Courtney let out a small, laughing, “What?”

“You got some serious clown mouth going on,” Bianca told her, her grin now barely contained, “Looks like you were fucking making out with Pennywise.”

“Shut up!” Courtney squealed, giving her a playful shove to the arm.

Trying her best to keep herself from fully laughing, Bianca slipped out from her bed, shaking her head as she muttered, “Hold on.” She immediately made her towards the bathroom caddy she left on the corner of her desk. After rifling through it for a minute, she found her makeup wipes and returned to Courtney’s side. Holding out the jar with a slight smirk, she teased, “Can't take you seriously with that mess.”

Rolling her eyes, Courtney snatched up the wipes and made quick work of running them over every inch of her ruined makeup. Giving Bianca a patient smile, asked sarcastically, “Better?”

Shaking her head once more, Bianca pulled out a wipe of her own and muttered distractedly, “Fucking Christ. All over your fucking neck, too.”

She leaned in close with it and began gently running the cloth pad over the expanse of Courtney’s skin. She ignored the tense swallow beneath her fingers and focused instead on removing every last bit of cherry red lipstick she could find. The position felt oddly intimate, especially with the way Courtney watched her with curious, considering eyes.

Trying to distract herself and Courtney from this suddenly awkward moment, she commented, “You sure that bitch wasn't trying to suck your blood out or something?”

A snorting laugh ripped through Courtney’s body as she pulled away just slightly. Finishing her work, Bianca stepped back and moved to discard the soiled wipes. When she turned around from the trash can, she found Courtney spread out across most of her bed and damn near cuddling into the sheets.

She looked to be enjoying herself, at least, as she all but rolled around and wrapped herself up in the bedding. Noticing Bianca’s amused grin and arched brow, Courtney defended herself with a sincere, “Your bed’s really comfy.”

“It’s the same hand-me-down mattress you have, Court,” she pointed out, suppressing the urge to roll her eyes.

Courtney’s smile stretched just a little wider as she relented with a dreamy, “Your sheets, then, dingus...They’re soft and silky.”

“I know,” Bianca retorted, poking her roommate lightly in the arm, “That’s why I got them.”

Ignoring the feeble attempt to annoy her or get her to move, Courtney simply nuzzled further into the sheets and affirmed sleepily, “Comfy.”

“Oh, my God,” Bianca muttered in an amused state of disbelief. She could see she wasn’t winning this without a fight and far too tired for any of that, she merely gave in and asked, “You want to sleep here tonight?”

Courtney tilted her face up towards Bianca, catching her gaze with heavy-lidded eyes and saying softly, “Is that okay? You’re not still mad at me?”

“No, I’m not mad. But...you’re gonna sleep in that?” Bianca inquired skeptically, gesturing to Courtney’s dress.

There was a half-hearted shrug of the shoulders but ultimately Courtney seemed unbothered at the prospect of sleeping in the skimpy sequined number she had borrowed from Willam. Rolling her eyes once more, Bianca withdrew from the bed in order to retrieve an oversized, worn-out Mardi Gras T-shirt from her dresser.

Carelessly tossing it onto Courtney’s face, she grumbled, “Here.”

With great effort, Courtney pushed herself into sitting upright just enough to remove the flashy dress, flinging it to the floor to replace it with the T-shirt.

“Want shorts or anything?” Bianca asked quietly, averting her eyes.

“This is fine,” Courtney assured her even as she struggled to keep her eyes open. Holding aside the blankets, she murmured, “Come cuddle.”

Bianca switched off the lights and worked her way between the sheets. She barely had time to properly settle down before a very soft body was pressed up next to hers. Burying her face into the pillow just inches away from Bianca’s neck, Courtney gave a partially muffled reasoning of, “Warmer over here.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Bianca teased lightly, even as she slipped her arm around Courtney and pulled her in just a little closer. “Come here, you fucking brat.”

Courtney giggled, snuggling against her, lips grazing Bianca’s neck, near her ear, sending a shiver down Bianca’s spine. On purpose? Bianca couldn’t be sure, but she cleared her throat and turned her head away slightly.

“Bianca?” Courtney whispered, breath warm against her, fingers wrapped around her waist.

Bianca should have realized the danger of sleeping intertwined like this. She hesitated for a moment before grunting out, “What?”

“Um…” Courtney giggled again, letting out a sigh, and Bianca relaxed, realizing that her lack of boundaries probably had more to do with residual drunkenness than anything else.

“Goodnight, Court,” she said definitively.

“Night, B,” Courtney whispered.

The night’s exhaustion coupled with alcohol made Bianca fall asleep quickly. Unfortunately, she didn’t stay that way for long. Some time later, she was roused by Alaska stumbling around. Her bedding was bunched up in her hands, just barely visible in the moonlight. Odd, Bianca thought.

“Hey,” she called out into the semi-dark room.

Alaska twitched at the sound of her voice, offering an awkward excuse of, “Hey, uh, sorry, I’m just grabbing some shit and then I’ll get out of here-”

Confused, Bianca shifted around to get a better look at her roommate and inquired, “Why? Where are you going-”

“I mean, you’re obviously in the middle of some-” Alaska hurriedly interjected, sparing a quick glance to Courtney’s oblivious sleeping form.

Of course she had the wrong idea, Bianca quickly realized. Shaking her head, she tried to explain the situation, “No, it’s nothing like that! We were just talking and she fell asleep. You really don’t have to go, my guess is that she’ll be passed out until noon.”

But as Bianca spoke, Courtney began shifting in her sleep. Her arms tightened, unwilling to lose their most comfortable source of heat, and a soft little sigh echoed into Bianca’s ear.

The pair of roommates stared at each for a moment in total silence, until Alaska’s resolve broke and she made her way towards the door. As she slipped past the door frame, Bianca heard her mumbling, “Yeah, it’s cool. I’ll just sleep on the couch.”

She tried calling out for her roommate but it was all in vain. In mere seconds the door was shut again.

“Whatever,” Bianca grumbled, settling back comfortably beneath the sheets. She’d tried to explain; it wasn’t her fault Alaska refused to listen. She’d just have to try again tomorrow and maybe then she’d have some better luck in clearing up whatever misconception still lingered in Alaska’s mind.

[detectivecarlosreyes]

Series: Part 2 of Hidden Truths  / Link to Part 1: The Secrets We Keep

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

Chapter summary:

Older sisters are very perceptive, Buck should have known Maddie would be concerned about his life choices.

Read under the cut

It was a few nights later and Buck was sitting on the floor starting the process of boxing up non-essential items, when his phone dinged with a text from Maddie saying she was on her way over, reminding him of the fact that it was Buckley sibling dinner night.  And he was hosting, which meant that he was supposed to be ordering or cooking dinner while Maddie brought the wine. And…he had forgotten.

He quickly sent her a reply before checking the fridge for any feasible dinner options only to realise he hadn’t thought to restock his fridge, mostly because he’d been at Eddie’s place the last couple of nights. Picking up his phone Buck scrolled through dinner options before settling on ordering some Spanish dishes that he knew Maddie liked, to be delivered.

Just as he finished doing that he could hear Maddie’s keys jangling against the door, signaling her arrival.

Buck turned around and selected two wine glasses from the cabinet for them as Maddie breezed through the door. “Whew, traffic was a nightmare! Hey there, little brother.” She said walking in, planting a kiss on his cheek as she sets down a bottle of chardonnay beside the glasses.

“Hey Mads.” He responded fondly, “We’ve been having Chinese food too much lately, so I’ve got Spanish food on the cards for dinner tonight, should be here in half an hour or so.” Buck said as he poured the wine. He knew that she wasn’t really listening though, seeing as she was more focused on the numerous half-packed boxes sitting open throughout his living room.

Collecting both glasses, he handed Maddie one and took a sip of his own as she gestured to the room. “What’s with all the boxes?” She asked, brow furrowed, “Are you moving?”

Buck moved around the island bench and took a seat on one of the stools. “Yeah, my lease is almost a month away from ending, and I figured I’d find a place closer to the station.”

Maddie sat down across from him and eyed him with suspicion, “How long have you known?”

He shrugged nonchalantly and looked away at the boxes, knowing that she wasn’t going to like his answer. “A couple of months.”

Maddie reached over and lightly slapped him on the arm, “Evan! Why didn’t you tell me sooner, I could have been helping you find a place!”

He rolled his eyes at her antics, slightly offended that she thought he couldn’t find a place by himself. “I’ve been looking I swear! But I wasn’t sure whether I was going stay on for another contract or find somewhere else until now!”

She looked at him unconvinced, “So you found somewhere else then?”

Buck twirled his glass at the stem and took another sip as he muttered his answer into the liquid.

“Evan,” said Maddie warningly.

He sighed and set the glass down but kept his focus on it as he swirled its contents, knowing that there was no point in keeping it from her when she’d find out sooner or later. “Eddie offered his spare bedroom and I’m taking him up on it.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea.” Maddie reached across the space between them and placed her hand over his, “Despite the fact that I’ve teased you before about it being a boy crush, I know how much you like him.” He smiled softly, knowing she was referring to his accidental confession many months ago.

“Don’t worry about it, it’s just a stopover point for a month or so until I find the right place.” He couldn’t help but grin, “I think Eddie is just happy to have another adult in the house for once, someone to share the load with, even if it is for a little while.”

Their conversation was interrupted by a knock at the door, but Buck could tell it wasn’t over with the way Maddie was looking at him. Picking up his wallet from the benchtop, he collected their dinner and handed the delivery person their tip before relocating them to the lounge room. It’s only then that Maddie resumed the conversation.

“I just wanted to make sure that you thought this all the way through. It surely won’t be easy living with someone you’ve been crushing on who doesn’t feel the same way.” She said, concern bleeding into her words.

He gave her a look, “Come on Maddie, give me some credit, I’ve managed this long while working with him haven’t I?”

He appreciated her looking out for him, he really did, but he was going to be selfish. If Eddie was offering a chance for him to get closer and be his housemate then Buck was going to take it even if it was just temporary.

“I know. I just can’t help but worry about my baby brother.” She fell quiet at that but continued to scrutinize his face, so much so that Buck couldn’t hold her gaze any longer and turned his full attention to the food in his hands. “Speaking of which, how has work been lately? You look tired.”

Buck shrugged and continued to pick at his meal, appetite abandoning him with her line of questioning hit a little too close to home, implying that he wasn't sleeping, which in all honesty he wasn’t. “We had a bad call a few nights ago, and it just been playing on my mind lately, that’s all.”

“Howie didn’t mention anything, what happened?”

Buck sighed and set down what was left of the yellow rice he was playing with and topped up his glass instead, “I was sent down into the LA River for a body retrieval, had to be up close and personal the victim while securing a rope around him.” He shuddered, “let’s just say it wasn’t the most pleasant of experiences.”

Maddie pursed her lips like she did whenever she got lost in thought and he could see her putting two and two together. “The tsunami,” she murmured before redirecting her attention back to him, “I’m guessing it’s brought back bad memories?”  

Buck nodded, “But I’ve got it under control Mads, you don’t need to worry about it.” and he doesn’t elaborate more than that, unwilling to make a big deal out of a few hours of lost sleep.

He knew he was lying to himself, but he didn’t want to admit that it was worse than what he’d made it out to be. Also, because he didn’t want to admit that the tsunami affected him even now especially after he pretended he was fine back then after it happened.

Maddie pulled him out of his thoughts with a light touch to the knee, “As long as you know you can talk to me about it, same as always.”

“I know.” He replied softly.

They sit quietly for a bit after that with the atmosphere of the room weighing heavily on them. Buck couldn’t stand for that, it wasn’t the point of these dinners so he changed the subject, moving onto lighter conversation by asking Maddie how things were going with Chim.

She immediately brightened at his question and proceeded to gush about the things she and Chim have gotten up to lately. It did seem strange to know more about his workmate than he ever wanted to, but in saying that, he was happy for them, glad to know that they had found joy and love with each other.

Tags: @judsonryder @bisexualbuck @benjisvictor @seaofashes @chimbuckleys @maysgrant @pan-buck @adamngoodbuck @buckleydiazs @nearly-writes @oliversstark @brilliantbanshee @eddiediaz

please let me know if you would like to be tagged 💖

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

Once Bitten, Twice Stupid prt.56

Lance had cleaned through his house twice, slightly panicked after Keith had called to say Coran was coming to speak to him in person. As far as he knew, he hadn’t done anything wrong. He’d kept his scheduled checkin calls with Coran, even secretly keeping a journal of his moods as Coran had asked. Sure, Coran sometimes came out for no reason other to than “to take a break from Platt”, he wasn’t stupid enough to believe that it wasn’t Coran checking in on him. So now that Coran was coming for some other reason, he’d cleaned every surface he could think of, changed the cat litter, cleaned up Kosmo’s morning puddle, baked a fresh tray of chocolate chip cookies, and had a small breakdown, all before 9am. Keith had said it was related to the feeling he had in the tunnels and that Coran would explain it all. His boyfriend doing a bang up job of making him worry instead of relieved to hear Keith’s voice. Curtis hadn’t been much company on the drive back, Lance suspected it was because he’d arranged to meet at Shiro at VOLTRON, only for his plans to fall through. It was kind of Hunk and Shay all over again, except Curtis was kind of half cursed and Shiro was... Shiro. The man had more moods than his phone had settings. If Shiro felt it was finally time to move on from Adam, then Lance would do everything he could to help the pair of them. He liked Curtis. He liked having someone else to talk to, even if all their conversations were slightly weird. Not that he’d ever replace Hunk or Pidge. Hunk just had other priorities now he and Shay were figuring things out, and Pidge was worried about him too much as it was. She didn’t always let it show, awkward about those kind of things. But she was more family than Luis and Veronica at this point.

Thinking of his siblings only added to his stress. Veronica and Luis had gotten into a small fight over him, with Veronica actually taking his side. If he’d wanted to hurt their Mami, he easily could have a hundred times over by now and she was sick of Luis being a busy body. It’d been years since he’d seen his sister and her two girls. But age had been kind to Veronica, barely a free hair visible. For a second Lance had wondered if she’d been turned, she was exactly how he last remembered her. Upset of his impromptu cleaning, Kosmo pawed at his leg. With no idea when to stop filling his face, his food now lived up on the bench with Blue’s. His precious daughter didn’t love having a brother, but he’d caught them snuggled together. Sure, Blue’s tail had been wagging and her expression one of “what the fuck is this thing?”, but gradually Kosmo was worming his way into her heart.

Picking up Kosmo, the puppy wagged his tail happily. He really didn’t like being alone. The first night Lance had tried to have him in his own doggy bed since Keith left, Kosmo had cried for hours, so Lance had moved him up to his bed. Waking to find a very large wet spot thanks to puppy pee. Thankfully he already had a waterproof mattress protector on his bed, thanks to his heats it was kind of necessity. Kissing Kosmo on the head, the puppy tried licking at his face, Lance tucking him up against him as he went about making tea to go with the cookies. He didn’t know why Coran couldn’t just call him. This waiting thing sucked. He wasn’t good at it. Not when it came to people he cared about.

Matt and Rieva were sent to clean up when they finally crawled out of bed. Matt grumbling over Lance disturbing their sleep. Flashing his teeth, his housemate backed off, Lance throwing his dramatic arse into the closet seat. He shouldn’t be freaking out. Coran had known him for years. He liked to think they’d long passed awkward house visits, but he was on edge as it was. He wanted to hurry up and be done with the tunnels, so Pidge could be excited about something else.

It was 10 o’clock when Shiro’s white sedan finally pulled up in front of his house. Rushing to the front door, he found Coran enthusiastically praising Shiro’s driving. Bounding past his feet, Kosmo klutzed up and fell down the front veranda steps with excitement, picking himself back up, his whole body was wagging as his little body bounded towards Shiro. Scooping up the excitable pup, Shiro was lucky he held Kosmo away from him as the puppy peed in excitement. Shiro grimacing, waiting until Kosmo was done before handing him off to Keith. Keith didn’t care about the pee as he cradled his fur son, smiling as Kosmo licked at every part of him that he could

“Hello, baby. I missed up”

Resisting the urge to gush over his boyfriend was easy when he felt sick to stomach over Coran. Coran’s enthusiasm turning to gushing over the puppy. If Coran was this cheerful then Lance was overreacting

“Hey, guys. Come on in”

Causal. He hoped he sounded casual. Shiro started towards the house, Coran and Keith much slower as they fussed over Kosmo

“Hey, Lance. How’s things?”

“Good. I’ve got fresh cookies and tea waiting”

Coran shot him a smile, yet Lance knew his attention was still focused on Kosmo

“Excellent, my boy. Sorry for the unplanned visit”

“It’s fine. Keith called ahead”

Keith paused on the front steps to kiss his cheek. Lance kind of disappointed it wasn’t a proper kiss, but happy he was there for whatever reason. Heading indoors, Lance led the group through the kitchen. Matt and Rieva had already started on the cookies, but seeing he’d made four dozen, there were still plenty left to go around. Sitting in his usual seat, he left his lap open for Keith, Keith instead sitting next to him. Coran being Coran went straight to pouring tea for everyone, as Shiro sat himself down at the opposite end of the table and next to Curtis.

When the tea was ready, Coran started passing out the cups

“I expect you’re somewhat confused what I’m doing here”

“A bit. I mean, it hasn’t been that long since I saw you”

“I know. I wouldn’t have come, but Keith mentioned you were heading back into the tunnels beneath Garrison and you had a negative reaction the first time”

Lance squirmed. Negative was putting it nicely. And Coran coming out over the tunnels seemed overly weird

“I told you about them before”

He had. He didn’t get why Coran was making a fuss now. Maybe he’d found something?

“That you did, but I’m afraid I have a bit of bad news. I thought perhaps offering assistance on this would help ease what I have to say”

“You know I hate it when you word it like that”

Coran set a cup of tea before him. Lance taking the cup in his hands to give himself something to focus on

“I do. There’s... a bit of an issue at headquarters. You know we service all vampires in the area. We have a new vampire in Platt. I don’t believe he’d be interested in you, yet it has been many years since I last saw him”

Lance couldn’t help the laughter that came from relief. The rest of the table staring at him like he was crazy

“You had me worried! If you want me to keep my distance you could have told me on the phone”

It wasn’t that funny. His laughter dying away within a few moments. He felt so much lighter for knowing, even if it did compound the fact he’d stupidly overreacted

“I know. I wanted to tell you seeing how things have been lately. It seems he may have picked up your scent. I’m quite confident he has no idea who you are, only that you’re quite unusual”

Lance sobered. That was one way of putting it. The other was saying he was basically catnip to vampires, which he was

“I get it. You told me I was going to have to live more carefully than ever before”

“I’m so glad you understand. I must admit I didn’t sleep well last night. I care quite a lot for you, my boy”

Lance nodded

“I know. You’re not being mean, you’re trying to protect me. It’s fine. Now, why are you asking about the tunnels”

Coran sat himself down beside Keith, nursing his cup of tea near his chest

“I’m concerned you may be more in-tune with death than ever. Can you describe what you felt?”

Lance sighed. He didn’t need to see ghosts any clearer than he already did... or didn’t

“Revolting. Like someone had filled the whole place with residue of death, and like... like I had confess all my sins. I wasn’t feeling that great before we headed in, but I definitely started feeling better again above ground”

Coran hummed, Matt stopping munching long enough to ask

“Should we be worried? I know Lance was in the mine shaft tunnels, but if he’s feeling ill from the town ones, does that mean something’s down there that could hurt Pidge?”

“I’m not sure. A creature down there for that long would have long gone mad. I felt it best I give it a quick check, before you and your friends make the trip down”

Coran must have really been on edge thanks to this new vampire. He didn’t need to come make the precheck on Lance’s activities, still, he had. Lance wondered if Coran was feeling overly cautious and fearful for his safety because he knew this new vampire was bad news, or if it was related to him being a breeder and the vampire being new to town

“It didn’t feel like something living. There was much pain and regret. It was like... I don’t know. I wanted to go church the moment I came back up again”

Lance closed his eyes, trying to block the feelings of the tunnels rising inside him

“That concerns me. Let’s enjoy our spot of tea and be in our way over”

*

Lance drove Keith, Matt, and Rieva to the pub. Matt was excited over seeing the tunnels ahead of the weekend, Rieva annoyed their morning had been interrupted by something so trivial, and Keith kept casting him sideways glances because Lance has suggested maybe he and Shiro stay home at the last moment. Lance unable to share any enthusiasm Matt had. He’d been left cold and clammy at the mere thought. Pulling into the first parking back closest to the pub, he most definitely didn’t want to go in there.

Keith and Lance hung back as the group, now led by Coran, headed into the pub. Brushing shoulders was the most intimate they could be, but Lance was struggling not to hold Keith’s hand

“Babe?”

Of course Keith wanted to talk

“I’m fine... I’m a bit edgy”

“I can see that. If you don’t want to go down there, Coran will understand”

To have the luxury not to go would be nice

“No. I have to. Coran could be in danger, plus he probably wants to observe the effects of the tunnel”

“If everything goes smoothly, why don’t we have lunch here? We can send the others back ahead to your place”

“That’d be nice, but I don’t think I’ll be much company”

“I don’t mind. Or we could leave them here and head back to yours”

“Mmm. That sounds better. No offence”

“None taken. I’m sorry I freaked you out”

“Some warning would have been nice, but it is what it is. I really don’t want to do this. I was still psyching myself up for the weekend”

“I would have come, if I could have”

Lance felt a tiny bit better about that. He wanted to head home and cuddle with Keith, not be forced to adult

“I know. Can you answer something for me. Is Coran worried because I’m a breeder or is this new vampire dangerous. I totally get if you can’t and all...”

“He’s up to something. He used to be friends with Allura”

“The fact he used to be friends isn’t making me feel better. Allura is practically one of the nicest people I know”

“I can’t say much... but I don’t like him”

That was so Keith. His boyfriend had walls a mile thick. Not quick to trust but when he did, he was the kind of man who’d do anything for the people he cared about

“Okay. I’m sorry for asking about work”

“It’s fine if it’s you. We better join the others”

Coran was already talking to the publican. The poor man opened at 10:30 and now they were ruining his day already. He didn’t seem happy to see Keith and Lance, not that Lance could blame him. Pidge could be a tyrant at negotiating for what she wanted, and he had a business to run. The man didn’t have time to deal with paranormal investigators.

Coran pulled some kind of Jedi mind trick, getting them access without fighting or yelling. As they headed downstairs, Lance’s hand slipped into Keith’s, Keith squeezing firmly

“It’s okay, babe. I’m right here. A quick in and out and then we’ll be headed home”

Leaning into his boyfriend, Keith nuzzled into him, kissing the spot on his hairline . Lance wishing the kiss was enough to force the sick feeling from his body. It was already taking everything he had no to throw up on his feet. Talk about psychosomatic symptoms right there

“Yeah. I know... I hope Coran lets you stay the afternoon”

Keith probably had to go straight back to work. Lance didn’t want to interrupt him working, but he was pathetically addicted to Keith’s cuddles

“So do I... but we probably have to go back to work. We’re in the middle of investigating this shitty club”

“Let me guess, it’s shitty because you can’t drink?”

“That’s part of it. There were pets”

Lance wrinkled his nose. Keith was probably more used to seeing pets than he was, but that didn’t make it any more tasteful. The thought of collaring Keith stroked his ego, as much as it hurt his heart to think of a caged Keith. Keith with his freedom and sense of self worth was the Keith he wanted. Obedient Keith would be too freaking weird... Nope. He wanted his anger loaf as his partner not his pet

“If I ever make you feel like I pet, I hope you punch me in the dick for it”

“I will. You ready?”

“As ready as I’ll never be”

Letting them through to tunnels, Lance felt ill immediately, covering his mouth with his hand as Coran examined ahead. Shiro was using the light of his phone to guide him, Curtis and Keith. Following Coran for a good 5 minutes of torturous silence, Coran finally came to a stop

“How do you feel?”

Like there was an itch under his skin and he really shouldn’t be there. Like whatever lingered wanted him gone

“Not great”

“I’m going to try something. Let me know if you can see it”

Coran placed his hand on the wall, blue lines radiated outwards like spiderwebs. Lance reasoned in awe that this had to be what magic looked like. Coran trigging it with his own. The feeling of death now so heavily pushing against him that his shoulders hunched. His head felt ready to split in two, as his fangs lengthened. Behind him, Shiro started to call out as a savage snarl filled the space, half turning, he found himself eyeing Matt, who Rieva was trying to hold back both her boyfriend and her own transformation, her eyes already yellowing as wrapped her arms around Matt in a losing battle

“Keith, look out!”

Acting on instinct, Lance shoved Keith aside, his body acting as shield for Coran. Sharps claws tore through his jacket and shirt like a knife through warm butter. Screaming in pain, Matt’s teeth sank deeply into his shoulder, his weight driving Lance to his knees as something snapped. Blood filled the air, Lance fighting to stay conscious

“Get out of here! Move, now!”

Grabbing Keith by the arm, Coran pulled him to stand behind him. Shiro already helping Curtis towards the way out. Falling under Matt, Lance twisted, driving his hand up to smack under the wolf’s jaw. His right arm looked nasty, the blow only stopping Matt for a moment before his claws were tearing into Lance’s chest. Coran was saying something, saying something then grabbing Matt around the neck. When Matt went to snap at Coran, Lance’s left arm round its way into Matt’s mouth by accident as he was trying to grab the wolf by his bottom jaw. For a moment, Matt’s eyes glowed yellow, before his wolf form was slumping over Lance. Everything was happening too fast. Lance couldn’t keep up. Dimly he heard Keith calling his name, followed by a voice he definitely didn’t want to hear... then there was nothing.

[kittinoir]

Flowers

You can read this fic on Ao3

Luck was on Marinette’s side. After literal months of pining, wishing, and pleading, she’d finally landed a group project with Adrien. No Chloe. No Lila. No problem.

Luck was not on her side. After literal months of pining, wishing, and pleading, she’d been assigned to perform a scene from Romeo and Juliet with Adrien. No Chloe. No Lila. Big problem.

She’d agonized over it with Alya during their next class. She and Adrien had agreed to meet at lunch to discuss their project, which meant she had exactly eighty six minutes to figure out how to play this. 

“If I suggest we do the scene where they meet, we have to kiss,” Marinette said as she pretended to write notes. “But if I suggest we do the scene where they die, we still have to kiss.”

“Girl, that sounds like the opposite of a problem,” Alya said, trying to contain her laughter.

“No!” Marinette said. She pushed so hard on her pencil the lead accidentally snapped. “I don’t want to be my first kiss with Adrien to be in front of everyone!”

“You’re supposed to rehearse before hand, you know,” Alya said with a knowing look. “So it wouldn’t technically be your first kiss.”

“Alya!” Marinette ground out. “Not! Helping!”

Alya just shook her head. “You’re ok, Marinette! Just suggest the balcony scene. Romeo and Juliet don’t even touch in that scene. If that’s what you’re worried about, go with that one.”

“Brilliant!” Marinette said as she scribbled the note in the margin of her tablet. “You’re brilliant. Thank you, Alya.”

“Don’t even worry about it,” Alya giggled. 

But she did worry about it. Because the truth wasn’t that she didn’t want to kiss him in front of everyone. It was that she didn’t think she could take it if it wasn’t for real. 

Yet, as it turned out, it wasn’t even the kissing that was the problem, if it had ever even been the problem at all. It was Adrien. Not that he wasn’t an awesome scene parter. He was. Her crush knew how to perform, as if pretending to be someone else was second nature. 

But that, combined with the iambic pentameter, spelled disaster. She tripped over her words around him on a good day - and without Nino or Alya to buffer, it was not a good day. Adrien had been fine with the balcony scene, content to take her direction. It had even gone well at first, when all she had to do was talk to herself. But as soon as ‘Romeo and Juliet’ started talking to each other, she was done.

Adrien never said anything, but when the hour was up, he’d left, claiming other responsibilities. Marinette had just waved, having embarrassed herself enough in the past hour she didn’t trust herself to speak.

“It was a total disaster, Tikki,” Marinette said, hours later as she paced on her balcony. “I sounded like I was having a stroke. It was so lame!”

“Not complete disaster, Marinette,” Tikki said as she watched her owner. “The part at the beginning was good.”

“I can’t look at him without tripping over my words!” Marinette ran her fingers through her bangs, riffling them in frustrating for not the first time that hour. “It doesn’t even matter if they’re scripted, I just can’t - ”

“You can fight Hawkmoth almost every day but your can’t memorize a few lines?” Tikki said skeptically. “Come on, Marinette. If you just memorize your lines, it won’t matter who you’re looking at.”

“I don’t know,” Marinette said, finally collapsing onto her chaise. “Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe I should just ask to switch partners. Alya and I could do a scene. Then again, I could get stuck with Chloe…or worse.”

“Talking to yourself?”

Marinette let out a little shriek as she reeled back, nearly falling off the chaise. “Chat Noir?”

“The one and only.” He was sitting on her railing, twirling the end of his belt lazily in one hand. Marinette’s heart pounded, but if he’d seen Tikki, he’d have been freaking out, right? Right??? “I was passing by and thought I heard a damsel in distress.”

“Ah, haha, uh, fake…distress,” Marinette said, resettling herself. “I was running lines. For school.”

Chat Noir cocked his head. “Lines?”

“Romeo and Juliet,” Marinette clarified, gesturing to the script on her little table in front of him. 

“Ah, yes,” he said, picking it up and flipping through the pages. “The balcony scene.” He dropped the script back on the table, springing abruptly to his feet. “But soft! What light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun! Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, who is already sick and pale with grief that thou, her maid, art far more fair than she.”

“You know it?” Marinette couldn’t stop herself from asking. 

“We do live in the city of love,” he said with a wink. “Besides, who doesn’t know it?”

“Just me, I guess,” Marinette muttered with a glare at the pages. “I need to learn it for class but I keep tripping over the words.”

“It’s not the easiest thing to memorize,” Chat Noir said as he sat back on her railing. “But not impossible. I’ve got a few minutes, if you want to give it a shot.”

Marinette blinked. “You do?”

“Sure,” he said, tossing her the script. And then Marinette’s heart leapt into her throat as he simply stepped off her balcony into thin air.

“Chat Noir!” Marinette lunged for the railing.

“M’lady Capulet?” He was standing on the roof where it slanted out over the window in her room, merely a foot below her balcony. “I don’t believe that’s your line.”

Marinette clenched her jaw, but forced herself to relax, to lean on the railing where he’d been sitting and gaze out over the city, her chin in her palm. “Aye, me.” The words were ground out rather than sighed on a love-sick breath, but she figured that part would come naturally when she was practicing with Adrien. At least she’d memorized something. 

“She speaks!” Chat Noir declared. Marinette tried not to giggle as he spoke of her grace and beauty. It actually reminded her of the time he’d ended up on her balcony all those nights ago and she’d tried to keep him from finding out she was Ladybug by confessing her love.

“Oh, Romeo, Romeo! Wherefore art thou, Romeo?” Did it count as learning the lines if they were some of the most famous ones in history? “Be but sworn, my love, and I’ll no longer be a Capulet.”

“Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this?” Though he was supposed to say it to himself, Chat Noir raised his brows and gestured, as though encouraging her to give more.

Well, ok then. “Tis but thy name that is my enemy!” Marinette declared, draping herself dramatically across the railing and fanning herself with a hand. “Romeo, doff thy name, and for that name which is no part of thee, take all myself!”

Marinette nearly broke character as a rose appeared beneath her nose. “I take the at thy word!”  Chat said, offering her the flower he’d taken from her window box. “Call me but love, and I’ll be new baptized; henceforth, I never will be Romeo.”

And so it went, back and forth, easier than Marinette thought it could be. The old writing suddenly seemed as clear as a children’s book, and working with Chat Noir felt more natural than she was comfortable admitting.

“You’re…really good,” Chat said when they finally finished. He sounded more surprised by that fact then she cared to think about.

“You’re not so bad,” Marinette said. “Thanks for helping me out.”

“All part of the job,” Chat Noir said, pulling out his baton. “But it was my pleasure. Now, I do have to finish my patrol, or Ladybug isn’t going to be too happy with me. Best of luck on your assignment!”

Then he was gone, bounding across the rooftops.

And if Marinette decided to pretend it was Chat Noir she was performing with instead of Adrien… well, who could really blame her. Especially when it worked. Besides, she very much doubted anyone noticed her stumble when Adrien produced a rose of his own, pink instead of red, the familiarity of the flower momentarily taking her out of the piece. 

But by the time they were done, Alya was gushing so much she didn’t even remember the hiccup.

She did keep the rose, though.

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Thank you for reading! I am away from home this weekend and will upload this fic on Ao3 Sunday evening <3