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infernwetrust · 4 years

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Marked You [Michael Langdon x Fem Reader]

Summary: Oh you know, just the interesting relationship between you and your best friend, the anti-christ.

Warnings: smut, implied smut, swearing, fluff, smallest amount of violence

WC: 2.0k

A/N: This was literally the first fucking thing on my mind when I woke up at 4:30AM. And reading all my mutuals works got me brainstormin’. Master list, here. Thank you for reading! -Juno

GIF by casikototmblr

Your relationship with Michael Langdon was very, clear. He was your best friend of course, the two of you, inseparable. Friends since the age of 5, you know everything about each other. While the two of you have your own friend group, everyone else knew where they stood when you and Michael got around each other. You trusted him more than anyone else in your life. And while the silly little arguments came, perks of the best friend contract, he never hurt you. He never put you down. A simple cool down period and he was in your room again, making the most ridiculous jokes.

On your worst days, Michael was the first person there. Exceptional at reading tone through text, he was at your door, movie and food ready, followed by a friendly cuddle. On his worst days, and his days were really fucking bad, you were there too. A short walk over to his house, you would allow him to vent angrily to you as you sat on his bed, watching as things flew around, feeling the temperature in the room fluctuate rapidly, but again, he made sure to never hurt you.

That's how it's always been though between you and Michael. Comfortable. And you appreciated that. Time after time, you'd sit in his lap amongst your friends, who thought nothing of it because they knew the deal. And amongst his annoying group of friends who knew better than to say anything out of pocket. You'd hold hands sometimes, walking wherever. Kisses on the cheek and forehead weren't uncommon either. And while that didn't deter every whore at school to not throw themselves at him, it did make it hard for you to find yourself a boyfriend.

To those who didn't know him well, Michael was intimidating. He stood at 5'11, dominating blue eyes, charming smile. Outside of his comfort zone, he was very reserved and closed off, which at times made it seem like he was hard to talk to, but anyone that did know him could say he was the sweetest boy around this dreadful place. A sweet boy who isn't afraid of anything or anyone.

When you finally did get your first boyfriend, he was almost your first everything, until he fucked that up. Yes, he was a douche. Yes, Michael did make him pay. And, while he could of used his powers, he decided to go the old fashion way for a change. And while you had yelled at him the same day, saying he didn't need to do that, that rather large action, brought the two of you even closer. Maybe a little too close?

Senior year, 18, and you were still a virgin. Not that there was anything wrong with that, but your hormones got the best of you at times. You didn't trust very many guys outside of Michael and your friend group and you didn't just want to give yourself to just anybody that even looked at you sexually. You'd listen to all your friends brag about who they've slept with or who they were dating. You knew Michael was sexually active too, but he never went out of his way to talk about that with you, which you appreciated. Not that it would of mattered, right? Wrong.

"This has got to be the dumbest shit I've ever seen." Michael said, referring to the movie in front of the two of you. The both of you sat on the couch in his living room, Ms. Mead asleep for the night, his arm wrapped tightly around your shoulder as you nestled into his side. He waited a few seconds for a response that usually came quick to anything he said, but when you didn't say anything, he turned his head to look at you. And look at you, just staring. "You okay, Y/N?"

You still didn't give him an answer. Instead, your eyes darted back and forth between his eyes and his lips and you swore that you could feel your face inching closer to his. And with Michael's unpredictability at times, you didn't know if it was his powers, but either way he was getting closer too. You gently put your lips on his in what started out as a gentle kiss that soon escalated. Realizing what you were doing, you quickly pulled yourself away.

"Sorry. Sorry. Sorry." you repeated. "I just.. I-, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that."

"You're sorry?" Michael grinned. He was hot, temperature and looks. "I finally get the one kiss that means something to me and you're sorry?"

"Wait wh-,"

"You're gonna be real sorry if you don't kiss me again." No more questions because you were wanting it just as bad as he was, you slammed your lips back into his. And he got handsy QUICK. Tongues exploring each other's insides, he grabbed every inch of you that he could, pausing momentarily so that he could pull his shirt off, followed by yours. His hands found their way to your breasts again, squeezing them before his fingers slowly trailed down to your stomach and in the waistband of your jeans.

"Wait-..." you mumbled against his lips, grabbing his wrist. "I-, I'm, I'm not-,"

"I know." Michael said, staring deeply into your eyes. "I'll be gentle, but if you want me to stop, I will. But God, and I use that term loosely, I've wanted you forever."

"I don't want you to stop. I just thought maybe you didn't know..."

"I'm always gonna know about my Y/N." Michael grabbed both of your hands, holding them together as he gave them a kiss. "If I do anything to hurt you, please stop me." You nodded and allowed him to resume. And he took care of you, just like he said he would.

"Hey." Michael said to you the next day, startling you at your locker.

"Shit." you said, almost dropping one of your books.

"Did I scare you?"

"You always scare me." He gave a small laugh before he face became serious again. "But about last night..."

"What about it?" he questioned, raising his eyebrow.

"Thank you."

"What are you thanking me for?" he asked confused.

"For being my first. For being so gentle and so caring. And for just being my best friend. Oh and being cute, a bonus."

"It's what best friends are for right?" He leaned up against the locker next to you, eyes piercing through your body as he licked his upper lip.

"I mean, no not really." you laughed. "But I'm honestly glad it was you."

And it just didn't stop there. Sexual encounters between you and your "best friend" became regular. Countless times you found yourself being dragged into the utility closet between periods. And it was always a quicky. Either you were on your knees for him or he was on his knees for you. Thankfully this room was located at the far end of the hall because the noises that came from it were sometimes so ungodly.

Wet and sloppy noises and his moans crowded the room as you sucked Michael off relentlessly, drool dangling from your chin, hand wet as you stroked him at the pace you sucked him. As he got closer, you let him take control, hands finding their way behind him to grip his ass tightly as he released himself down your throat. Re-dressing, he sent you on your way with a sloppy kiss, a smack on the ass, and a "love you". And the next time you knew it was your turn.

If you've never squirted before, you did now. This forced Michael to bring a back up shirt for the days he knew he was going to be between your legs in that closet. He wouldn't let up either, knowing how sensitive you were and how little time the two of you had. An intense mixture of his mouth and fingers, he worked you like a pro, not caring that his face was soaked in your juices. And when you squirted, he took all of it like it was nothing. He's left you speechless and breathless so many times, taking you above and beyond. If he was fast enough, he'd stroke himself for you, leaving his mouth to do all the work, knowing the sight of him got you off quicker and if you, yes you, got lucky enough, he'd orgasm with you, all over his hand, and you'd clean it right up.

There was no doubt that he brought out your inner sexual nature. The joy of being a sinner, yes? Your favorite place to be was in his room, music playing in the background, underneath him. Some evenings it was rough and fast. He'd fuck you deep into his mattress, arms pinned above your head as he hair dangled over his face. Or hand wrapped around your throat as you held onto his wrist. Most evenings though, it was slow and passionate and that's when the both of you realized that it was maybe more than just bfs with benefits.

Michael made love to you more than anything, taking his time to fill you up. Hands carefully and gently roaming your body as you sat in his lap, legs wrapped around his waists. Soft kisses on the lips and neck. When he fucked you, he made sure to hit the spots that made you cry out, every single thrust. He always took care of you first, made sure you came, and more than once. His favorite place to have you was in your room, LED lights red just like he liked it, on top him, forcing you to ride out your orgasm until you either had another one or he reached his.

You two weren't shy of public adventures either. Hand jobs and being fingered behind any hidden surface, as long as the conditions were right and it turned you on so much how Michael could keep a straight face while you did it, but projected his loud thoughts into your mind so only you could hear. You struggled most times to keep yourself together, but obviously not reckless enough to give the both of you up. Dress rooms in the malls were a favorite too as he could pound you as hard as he wanted to, knowing that you couldn't let out a sound or risk getting caught.

And when enough was enough, it was enough. How dare another guy try to flirt with you at a party that Michael was hosting. Sure, you two weren't official, but you were official. Anyone with eyes could see that you were off limits, but not this guy who hadn't stopped talking to you despite your clear lack of interest in what he had to say.

"Clearly she doesn't want to be bothered." Michael said, suddenly appearing behind you, hands clasped behind his back.

"Oh come on, Michael." the guy said. "Can't a guy get a little action every now and then." Michael, already buzzed and now with an even shorter fuse, snapped, grabbing the guy by his throat, drawing the eyes of those in the vicinity who knew better than to object.

"If I see you talk to her again, and trust me I'll know, I'll snap your neck. Understood?"

"Michael..." you said softly, grabbing his arm. "It's okay. Really. C'mon."

"Understood?!" Michael said again, his grip tightening.

"Under... understood." the guy weakly replied and Michael let him go, shoving him back so he stumbled backwards.

"Hey!" you said, pulling him towards you. "I said it was okay."

"No one is gonna flirt with my girl and everything just be okay? Do you want to know what he was thinking about? Cause I can tell you and I promise that you will not be happy." But you had already tuned him out after hearing the words "my girl".

"What did you just say?" you asked, amused.

"Nothing. Just. Come on. Let's go have a drink or something. I've barely seen you all night."

"But all of sudden show up when a guy starts talking to me? Nuh Uh, Michael Langdon. I know you. You were watching me. Your girl, huh?"

"You were always my girl, Y/N. You were always going to be, my girl and you always will be."

Taglist: @jimmason @angelicmichael @whatcodysaid @9layerdevilfoodcake @xavierplympton @guiltyfiend @mikhalxngdon @fernfiction @theneverendinghunger

#cody fern #cody fern imagine #american horror story #ahs #ahs apocalypse #michael langdon #michael langdon imagine #michael langdon x reader #michael langdon smut #michael langdon imagine

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mmvalentine · 3 years

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The Pianist pt 8 | Jurdan

Modern AU. Part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6 part 7 part 9

Jude got home in the early hours of the morning and fell straight into bed.

It had been a whirlwind trip of meet and greets, recording demos, being passed from arm to arm and singing until her throat hurt. Bryern had paid for her accommodation, but the flights were more than she had expected, and she ended up having to buy new clothes while she was there. Especially since she was supposed to meet important people and look the part. Jude just hoped it had all been worth it.

Bryern had gotten her to sing for a number of producers, and they were so positive about her that Bryern made her his official project and dragged her around LA introducing her to everyone he knew. She barely slept, he told her not to eat while they were networking, and the alcohol they kept shoving into her hands made her head spin.

Of course, she had not anticipated being away for so long and had to make profuse apologies to all her workplaces. Java Island stood by their 'making of a celebrity' plan, but both the pub and the diner let her go. Jude had no idea how she was going to keep her apartment, but there was no point backing out now.

The truth was, Jude didn't mind this. Didn't mind any of it, not the sleepless nights or the being 'on' all the time or the being fawned over by strangers. In some ways it was tiring but in other ways it was exhilarating, and the more Jude tasted this life the hungrier she was for it. And although she knew she couldn't run on adrenaline forever, she thought she could very well do this life, if only she was let in.

So the weeks went by, and by the time she went home she had agreed for Bryern to officially be her agent, recorded five songs, and had three producers in negotiation with Bryern about a possible record deal down the track. He was optimistic, and she was exhausted.

Jude woke in her own bed hours later, and although the last few weeks were exciting, it was very good to be home and back to real life. Now she just had to pick up the pieces and hope the adventure had not cost her too much.

Jude groaned, dragged herself into the shower, and then took stock of the damage.

She was a week in rental arrears.

She had lost two of three jobs.

She now owed Cardan a grand total of $1, 436.

Jude flicked through the stack of letters by the door, adding her latest power bill to the growing tally of expenses.

And there in the pile was a card that had her name in curling cursive.

Jude Duarte, you are cordially invited to the fall showcase for the Juilliard school of music.

Jude stared at the invitation for some time, before realising that the date was today and the start time was in twenty minutes.

She threw on the black dress that was hanging over a chair nearby, bundled her hair up with a clip, and shoved her feet into a pair of shoes she had bought in LA. After everything Cardan had done for her, there was no way she could miss his showcase.

It took Jude an agonisingly long time to find the right hall, and by the time she got there the concert had already started. Jude slipped in the back of what was a small but plush theatre, with red seats and wood paneling that she supposed was good for acoustics.

There were twenty-odd musicians that all seemed to be more and more Nicasias and Lockes, and although they were all beautiful and talented, Jude itched to fast-foward the night until Cardan played.

Cardan. How odd that the first time she was seeing him after three weeks, he wouldn't even know she was there.

An hour and a half later, he was being announced. The darling of his cohort, Cardan was the closing act, and the man in the suit was telling the audience this was something Cardan had written himself. Jude shuffled in her seat, and leaned forward in rapt anticipation as he sat down at the piano stool and moved his neck as if getting comfortable. In her peripheral vision, Jude noticed others in the same posture as her.

It was not so much that Jude had forgotten Cardan's reputation. It was more that she had been so bent on hating him for so long that his being 'talented' just added to her irritation. He always seemed to get special treatment because of it and there was nothing she despised more.

Then she had been focusing on her own musical career, and was just now thinking that she couldn't even remember what his playing sounded like. Wasn't sure if she had ever actually just listened to him, or heard something he had written himself.

And then Cardan started to play.

Jude wasn't sure what she was expecting. Something technical, something impressively fast and vaguely furious. Something like the racket that kept her up all hours of the night.

But that wasn't what Cardan had written.

Cardan played soft, and languid, and sweet. She found herself leaning her chin on her hands against the back of the seat in front of her, and wondering if this is what Cardan's soul really looked like or if this was just some kind of clever trick he knew.

The audience was so silent, and design of the hall was so well made that the piano may as well have been right by Jude's side. She wondered where this song had come from, and how she had never, never heard anything like this coming from the upstairs apartment.

And then the sound changed and it was somehow familiar, like the had known this song her whole life.

Jude sat up, and her eyes went wide in the dark concert hall.

She did know this song. This was her mother's lullaby.

///////

Cardan had been allocated two invitations like everyone else. His parents had already announced they were coming so he sent one off to them because he knew they would manage to get their names on the list regardless. And then he turned the other one around in his hands for a good fifteen minutes before sliding it under Jude's door along with the handful of other white envelopes.

Jude had been gone for weeks and he didn't expect her to be back in time. Didn't expect she would come even if she was back- but then again, who else was he going to give it to?

Cardan had always planned to play his own composition on the night, although writing it was harder than expected due to the hasty return of his insomnia. In the end, what else could he write but Jude's song? The memory of it taunted him day and night, crystal clear in his head but out of reach for his ears.

So he played it, over and over trying to recreate the effect that Jude's voice had on him. And while it didn't help him sleep, it did morph over time into the only song he could manage while so sleep-deprived he was seeing things.

Which brought him to today. In the concert hall, with his parents and teachers in the front row, and the people who used to be his friends sitting somewhere to the lift and sniggering to themselves. Cardan didn't care. He just played, and to him it sounded like Jude, Jude, Jude, Jude, Jude.

This was not what had been expected of him today, and he knew that. It was not the usual style of his compositions, not what usually got him such high praise from the heads of department. But Cardan quite liked this song.

When he finished, the audience was silent. Then he stood and bowed, and realised that people were crying, and only then did they start to applaud, and even stand to their feet. Cardan grimaced, never being fully comfortable with this sort of thing, and nodded again before making his way off stage. The Head of Music was back on stage and speaking about... something, Cardan wasn't really paying attention, and he could see Nicasia and the others waving to him like they might try to talk to him. And then there were his parents, whispering to each other while watching the speech.

But Cardan didn't want to see any of them. Really just wanted to slip out of the hall before they had a chance to catch him, before faculty members or student journalists or anyone else cornered him and made him talk. So he snuck through the curtains, through a side door and up the side of the hall in the deep shadows while the Head of Music droned on. All the way to the back of the hall, because even though he had not looked out into the audience for long, he had stood there long enough to make out the important faces.

And the hall was small enough that he could see who was sitting in the back row.

It was small enough that he could see Jude.

****

As you can see I have no idea how anything actually works at Juilliard, I just started using it for the prestige of the name and then derailed into my own universe sorry if anyone actually has been there and knows how bullshit this all is 😂

JURDAN MASTERLIST

TAGLIST: @asteria-of-mars @swankii-art-teacher @loosingdreams @feysand-loml @cityofbookish @story-scribbler @thebonecarver @realbookloverproblems

#jurdan #jurdan fic #TFOTA #mine

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theobxhummingbird · 4 years

Text

Little love. -Luke Patterson x Reader.

Summary: A few songs, to confessions and apologies.

Here are the requests: Heya! If requests are still open, can I please request a JATP Luke fic where both him and the reader are alive, and Luke and the reader both write music but the reader is down because of family reasons and cant seem to write, so Luke writes a song for her to help inspire her and he tells her he had fallen for her and it’s super duper fluffy and cuddly and sweet at the end ✨🥺

Platonic! Alive! Reggie, Luke and Alex (jatp) x Reader where she is the youngest in the band and starts sleeping at the studio more and more? The boys get worried until they find out her dad kicked her out. Maybe soft Luke, Reggie and Alex protective older brother cuddles? Sorry this didn’t really make sense!

A/N: I wrote songs for the imagine--seriously...🥺 Judge them, hate them, love them, I won’t be mad, because they’re ridiculous. Thank you to the requests and enjoy the imagine.

They could be heard from the street, and it made all the lights flicker in the neighborhood houses. The people were wondering what’s being thrown in the Y/L/N household, until everything was very clear to them. Together with a backpack, and her guitar bag, the door shut in front of Y/N’s face. Her chin touched her chest, and she started sobbing. Reaching for the backpack and the guitar, Y/N started walking away from the house.

She was supposed to be at rehearsal on time, and the four boys were waiting for her. But they didn’t expect her to come inside so slowly, and quietly get behind the piano. They had written a song, and it was the first trying it with the instruments. Luke, Reggie, Bobby, Alex; they were all trying to do their best, while playing the piano, came as an escape for Y/N, and they couldn’t notice anything wrong with her. But they changed their view on her state, when she looked up at them; as her eyes spoke the language of sadness.

-Are you okay? –said Alex, holding her shoulder.

-Yes—I am—just wanted to tell you that I’ll write some music first then leave the studio, so leave me the keys.

-Here captain. –Reggie dropped them in her hand, and gave her a hug, as all three boys followed him, Luke hugging her a bit longer.

-You’ll be fine. –he said, and pinched her nose, before heading for the door. Was she? Y/N didn’t even know herself. Her chin rested on her knees, as tears flooded her eyes again. It was the first time she had ever argued with her parents, with the outcome of them getting way too mad at each other, and ending it with kicking their daughter out.

-Why me? Why do I always have to take the faultiness? –she cried into her knees. The night was long, and Y/N was alone in the studio. Only, now, lit by a lamp, she took out her journal, and a pen. She was ready to spill out everything into words, which was the best way of reminiscing the words of her parents. Believe in me; she wrote at the top of the notebook.

“That night I heard, a broken voice from a bird, and by every word, I couldn’t feel no more.” She scribbled words and then sentences, until it turned into a complete song: “Believe in me, I’m not a lie, what I love is what I never hide. And those empty streets, that are filled with melodies, you’re hurting with your dissimilarities.”

-The morning came, and she wasn’t even aware, until a big shadow hovered over her, blocking the sunlight that was warming her face.

-Y/N, wake up. –said a soft voice, as it nudged her slowly.

-Guys? –she stared at Luke, Reggie and Alex.

–What are you doing here—so—early?

-What are you, doing here so early? –said Reggie, -And why are you sleeping on the couch?

-I was—waiting for you and uh—had fallen asleep.-Oh—okay—then let’s get started with rehear-

-Wait Reggie, wait. –said Alex, and the guy stood back on his spot, -You’re lying to us, I can see it in your eyes. It’s not the look, when you’re telling the truth.

-Something was up with you since last night. And I didn’t say anything to you, thinking an alone time is what you need, but I can’t pretend that I don’t realize those pleading eyes. –said Luke, and sat down next to her.

-My dad kicked me out of the house last night. –she said.

Reggie gasped, but Alex’s reflex was quick to shut his mouth, by putting his hand on Reggie’s mouth and giving him a glare.

-Why? Did you have an argument?

-He didn’t approve his seventeen-year-old daughter, to play in a rock band. I tried to calmly talk to him, but he started yelling. We’ve had a financial crisis at home for a long time, and he took it out on me making music. Why does he think I’m making music? Only because I think of myself and my dreams? No, I also do it to help my parents. To give them as much as they’ve given me. But he didn’t even listen to me; just threw everything we had in the house, then—kicked me out.

-Did you give them a call, or did they—give you—never mind. –started Alex, but then threw an arm around Y/N’s shoulder, to comfort her.

-Never mind, I’ll fix this myself. I have a song. I mean—if you want to read it.

Luke took her journal, and opened to the page she told him, and quickly moved his eyes through the lyrics, and smiled at the words, -It’s beautiful. We’ll try the music for it later. Alex engulfed her in a hug, followed by Reggie, then by Luke. She melted into the shield of the three muscular boys. They projected warmth and love, that it was the easiest thing for her, to just tell them what she feels, because she knew they’ll first listen, then make a comment.

-I love you guys. –she wiped away her tears, and fixed herself. They brought breakfast along the way, and Y/N made the table so they could eat.

-I think we should write a song about hotdogs, you know? –Reggie spoke with his mouth full. –Just as a reminder, we should never eat them from wherever.

-You’re lucky you didn’t die, for else we would’ve written it on your stone. –said Alex.

-Y/N, we need to finish writing that song. –said Luke, as he looked at her not so concentrated self. Her fork sluggishly moved around the food, and she barely took a bite out of it.

-Huh—yeah, sure, we’ll finish it.

And they did. It was a beautiful song. He thought she wouldn’t be able to think of anything, but emotions had trapped her hard, that she thought of very breathtaking lines. They even tried it with the music, and were ready to add it onto the lists of the songs for the album.

Her head was slowly falling, and the boys decided to stay with her that night, and not leave her alone in the studio. Reggie was half asleep on the other couch, while Alex played with his drumsticks. Luke was holding his guitar, trying to think of some new words. Y/N’s head fell on her shoulder, and she was asleep, just like Reggie.

Luke looked over, to see her peacefully, with pouted lips, asleep next to him. It was painful seeing her in an uncomfortable position, so he picked her up in his hands, and placed her nicely on the couch, throwing a blanket over her body. Luke sat there for hours, observing her as she slept, and thought about the history the both of them had. He’s been observing her like that for a long time; since the day they met each other, but never knew how to express how he feels, scared it’s only one-sided.

The pen moved on the paper, making little dents as he wrote. Words were spilling out, as his eyes glanced at her, analyzing every detail of her face. Little love

- LITTLE LOVE

Closed eyes, pursed lips, one by one they tell me your sides,

Will I be able to fix what you feel?

Can I tame those wild tides?

And can I give a little love,

To my angel, of all the above.

Don’t remember them breaking words,

I don’t know, if there’s something you can remember,

But just leave them behind, and I’ll be your heart’s tender.

And just like a free bird,

Fly away from what you heard,

Brush away your pride,

And swim away with your sorrow tide.

But before you go, can I get little love,

Can I get those peaceful eyes?

And those warm lips,

To break away some of them boundaries?

Reggie and Alex were now, both, asleep, and Luke was alone with his written song. He tried to persuade himself into the confession through the song, without hurting her, because he knew she had such a hard time at the moment. But the next day, when he found a chance to be alone with her, Luke pulled her hand, and they both sat on the couch. He positioned his guitar, and gave her the written song. He started playing, and singing the words.

Y/N’s mouth fell apart, as her eyes widened a bit. She couldn’t even breathe in the moment, because Luke’s soft eyes didn’t leave hers, while he shot the words at her. He was such a sweet person, and she now remembered how much she admired him for the way all his emotions could be heard from his lyrics. But these—she thought she understood wrong, until the guitar dropped on the floor, and his hands were cupping her face. Their lips melted into each other, as her tears pecked his face. It was a moment of relief, and he couldn’t be more in need to take all her pain, and keep it to himself, so she doesn’t have to go through it.

-I love you. -he whispered when they split apart, and finally looked into her eyes.

-Our feelings are mutual, Luke Patterson. I love you too. And this song—is—just—perfect; flawless.

-Just like you. And I know you won’t agree, but I’ve never seen someone so responsible for everything in their life. You’ll get through this; we’ll get through this. You have my support and love like you always did.

-They won’t want me back, Luke.

-Yes they will, trust me. They’re your parents, and if there’s something the most important in their life, that’s you; their daughter. And I don’t doubt, they’re waiting for you. So—let’s go, we’ll fix this together, I’ll hold your hand till the house. You are doing what you love, and you’re doing it well, and it would be a loss if you leave it.

-Thank you so much for being next to me. Always. –she snuggled into him.

-I’ll forever hold you in my arms whenever something goes wrong. But just know, I’m doing everything so you don’t cry.

-I know; I hope I’ll be as sweet as you are. Writing me songs, and taking care of me.

-You’re already doing that, bird. You have your precious love, bewitch me. Isn’t that enough? –he kissed her forehead, and gestured her so they could leave for her parents’ house.

That night, not only were the boundaries between Luke and Y/N taken away, but also between her and her family. Now, they let her explain herself, and express the love for music, and all that was in their hands was to agree on her profession. As well as approve the relationship with the beautiful boy, that had as much as love for music as her—as well as for Y/N.

#luke patterson x reade #luke x y/n #luke patterson imagines #julie and the phantoms fan fiction #jatp netflix #jatp luke #jatp reggie #jatp alex #theobxhummingbird

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obx-writings · 4 years

Note

4,5 ,8,9,15 from the agnst list with jj

Im sorry this took me so long but here it is! I hope you like it, as it was very interesting to write this kind of story! I wasn't sure how to incorporate #15, so I did the first 4 and I hope thats okay!

T/W: Reader has major anxiety, if this triggers you, please don't read further.

Bold: Request sentences

Italics: Reader’s thoughts

Regular: Story

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You were sitting in your old sweatshirt from middle school, torn and tattered. Your cheap leggings from the thrift store were doing little to keep the chills of the autumn air off your skin. Tears tracks had permanently shined your face, and you hadn’t moved in 3 days. Your phone was dead from all the calls and text messages from your friends that you had been ignoring. This is how it was at times. The anxious thoughts in your brain never left, and you wouldn’t move for days. Only this time was different.

Usually, you’d send a short text to your friends saying you were going fishing with your brother, or busy working on a project and needed the space to think, which they always respected. You had never gone radio silent like this. And that scared them. It mainly affected the blonde haired surfer boy that wiggled his way into your heart years ago. You hated that you kept your feelings from all of them, especially JJ, but you were too afraid of what they might think of you. Every time you thought “I’m okay, I can tell them. They’re my family and they’ll understand,” that little voice in your head spoke about how worthless you were to them. How much they secretly hated you, and put up with you because they pitied that you were an orphan, just like John B. As more tears slipped out of your eyes, you heard a tapping at your window. You elected to ignore it, knowing full well who was the source. After 2 minutes of the continuation, he finally spoke.

“Y/N, I know you’re in there. I know you’re home. Open the window…please.” He sounded broken, as if he had been crying too. It took everything in you to wipe your eyes, and get up, but you did it. You knew you had to face the music of your actions. You pulled yourself together quickly, and padded over to the window, moving the curtain to reveal JJ’s blue eyes shining with worry. After unlatching the window, you pushed it up slightly, and moved away, allowing for him to move it fully, and maneuver into the room. Your back was to him as you sat back down onto the bed, silent.

“What the hell, Y/N?! Where have you been?” His voice was rough, the anger finally seeping through, as you knew it would. You would be angry too, if he fell off the grid without a simple word, and yet here you were, doing it to him.

“Why are you awake? It’s 3am JJ, go home.” Your voice was monotonous, filled with no emotion. You didn’t have any left to use.

“Go ho-! No one’s seen you in days Y/N! Why am I awake? I’ve been worried sick about you! You just ghost and ignore us? What the hell?” You deserved it. You did. At least, that’s what that voice was telling you. So you just shrugged.

“Wasn’t in the mood then, not in the mood now. Go home, J” You don’t deserve him to care. He should cuss you out. He should leave. He should not care at all. You’re worthless.

“Not in the- What the fuck is going on?!” He was pulling at his hair, it sat on his head and frayed strands as you finally turned to face him. To face the reality of your problems. His face screamed anger but his eyes poured love, and you didn’t know whether you wanted to punch him, or kiss him in that moment. So you simply shrugged again.

“Just a bad day, I didn’t want to burden anyone with it. I’ll be fine…I always am” You mumbled the last part, not sure if you were saying it for his benefit, or yours.

“Why are you lying to me? Y/N, I’m your best friend. We don’t keep secrets. Hell, we’re even more than friends. You know that, I know that, we always, always, let each other in. Tell me, please, what is going on?” His face shifted, his eyebrows furrowed and his lips curved downward in an unmistakably JJ way that he still managed to look unbelievably hot with. And it was true. You both had this unspoken thing where you knew you both had feelings for each other. This was just the first time either of you had acknowledged it. You don’t deserve this. You don’t deserve to be loved. You don’t deserve the way he’s looking at you. You honestly believe it, so you did what you do best. You pushed him away.

“Go home, J. I won’t ask again.” You’re voiced was laced in bitterness, the first sign of emotion he had gotten out of you in days. He laughed.

“Why, what are you gonna do? You gonna shrug me to death? You gonna glare me down? You can’t push me away, Y/N.” He was egging you on, trying to get a rise from you, and it was working.

“Get. Out.” Your voice finally sounding stern, you glared daggers at him.

“Make. Me.” He reiterated in the same tone you just used on him.

“Forget it. You’re a fucking asshole. I’m taking a shower, and when I get back, I want you gone.” You pushed past him, all the emotion in your voice gone once again. You were too beaten down to have this conversation with him, and JJ was just trying to make you feel something. Anything. Even anger, if it meant you’d talk to him, and while it was the only thing you wanted, to just crumple in is arms and let him love you, you didn’t feel as if you deserve it. You don’t. He grabbed your arm, a last attempt to make you listen, and you did something you never thought you’d do. On instinct, you slapped him. Hard. Across the side of his cheek, your hand burning with the sting. He stumbled back, but the look in his eyes came back. Love.

“Do it again. C’mon Y/N. Hit me again. I dare you.” He laughed in your face. You deserve this. You deserve to be laughed at. You’re pathetic. Tears began to well up in your eyes as you realize what you’ve done. He steps towards you, towering over your small frame. You step back. “What’s wrong? Where’s that tough girl that was just there. Do it again. C’mon.” He knew exactly where to hit you with his words to make you feel something. It was one of the reasons you’d stay away from him when you got like this. You shook your head, a tear escaping unwillingly. “Your attempts to push me away aren’t gonna work, baby.” You pushed him back.

“Don’t call me that.” You were angry again. You don’t deserve to be called something so sweet. You’re worthless.

“Why’s that, Love?” He looked at you, pouring love from his eyes again, and you snapped. You don’t deserve love. You don’t deserve anything. You pushed him again, and you kept pushing him, striking him on the chest with weak fists. He took it. He took every hit. He let you get everything out. You were grunting, crying, screaming, anything. You were feeling every emotion bottled up inside for those last 3 days come over you in a crashing wave. The dam you built finally broke, and you collapsed against him, sobbing into his chest, still weakly attempting to push him away. He wrapped his arms around you tightly, the crushing weight against you only heightening how broken you felt. You don’t deserve this. You’re trash. You’re nothing.

“Shut up! Shut up! SHUT UP!” You screamed and covered your ears, falling into JJ more. He shushed you and stroked your hair.

You sat there for 3 hours, just like that, with JJ holding you, your head eventually falling into his lap as he pet you. As the sun rose up, you lifted your head, seeing the same tear streaks that once adorned your face, now cleaning a home under his eyes.

“I’m here, Y/N. I’m not going anywhere. You can not push me away like you do the others. I’m yours, forever.” He croaked out, looking at you with so much adoration it Hirt your heart.

“I-I’m not worth it, J. That what my head keeps telling me. That’s why I leave. I’m not worth the trouble…” Your voice barely a whisper, hoarse from crying all night.

“My voice, the one right here, is telling you you are. And it will keep telling you until it drowns out the one in your head. I’m here, Y/N. I promise.” He placed a kiss to your forehead, and held you close to him for another hour. And while his words comforted you, you knew it would be a long long road before you got there.

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harringtonisadingus · 4 years

Text

Romance is Cheesy II Steve Harrington x Henderson!Reader

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Henderson!Reader

Prompt: Could you maybe do something where Steve brings Dustin roller skating and reader catches wind and insists on coming too?

A/N: I did make it so that the reader was Dustin’s sister, I hope that’s okay!

****************************************************

Steve had been hanging around your house ever since the night at the junkyard and at first it was weird. But now it was normal for you to walk into the living room to see Steve and Dustin arguing about Star Trek versus Star Wars. You weren’t one hundred percent sure that Steve understood the differences between the two but it was cute to watch him try. Although the worst part was the horrible, horrible dating advice. Like the ever famous “just act like you don’t care, it drives them nuts”. It took you weeks to convince Dustin that was not what girls actually wanted. It took you about five minutes to yell at Steve about how stupid that was. Something had changed in Steve that you couldn’t put your finger on. Whatever it was, you liked this Steve more than King Steve. So when you found Steve and Dustin lounging on the couch, you plopped down in between them.

“So gents, what is on the discussion boards today” you leaned against Dustin, ”Girls? Movies? Star Trek?”

“Steve’s telling me where all the best places to go on dates are! He was just telling me that the roller rink was a good idea cause you get to hold girls close to you.” Dustin pushed you off him, bouncing up and down on the couch.

You whirled around to face Steve, your eyes wide. His own eyes widened in fear, his cheeks turning a bright pink. Just as you were about to start telling him that maybe he shouldn’t tell a 13 year old that he should hold girls close to him, his hands flew up in surrender.

“Listen, I just meant that it was a nice place to take a girl, you could hold hands? Or something else that will make you look like you are going to kill me?”

“I don’t even know how to roller skate, Y/N, so it doesn’t even matter!”

“Hold on, hold on. You don’t know how to roller skate?” Steve stared at Dustin, “Y/N! How could you not teach the boy something so important?”

“So sorry, Steven. I was kind of busy teaching him other things like riding his bike or how to not burn dinner or how it’s not okay to eat eggs you baked on the sidewalk. It is a very stressful job,” you rolled your eyes, giving him a little shove.

“Well we have to change that! We are going to the roller rink tomorrow, you and me!”

“Oh my god, I have so many comments! One, the roller rink is so cheesy and two, I am definitely coming to watch this absolute shit show,” you giggled, falling against Steve.

Steve looked down at you, feeling his heart start to beat faster. At first he had thought that if he just ignored that feeling in the pit of his stomach when he looked at you that it would just go away. But it didn’t, it just felt like it got worse. You had come out of nowhere at the junkyard, ramming a demadog with your car before it jumped onto him. Your hair had been messed up, coils springing out at random but you looked like an incredibly messy, stressed out guardian angel. But you were Dustin’s sister, it was definitely not cool for him to hit on you. He was staring at you to long without saying anything, wasn’t he? He needed to say something, anything.

“Uh yeah, of course, sure you can come,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Perfect! So it’s all settled,” Dustin piped up, ”we are all going to the roller rink tomorrow!”

And with that the curly haired preteen ran out of the living room to his room. He could hear you and Steve bickering about music. Honestly, he didn’t even care anymore. The room would get so thick with that “sexual electricity” whenever you two were in the room together. He thought that throwing little hints out every now and again that he was okay with you being together would work. Apparently you both were completely clueless, so he and the party had to take it into their own hands.

“Project Roller Rink in a go, over! I repeat, Project Roller Rink is a go, over!” Dustin whispered into his radio, nervously fidgeting with his hoodie strings.

“Perfect! We’ll be there at the specified time tomorrow! Over!” Lucas’s voice crackled over the radio.

“Let’s hope this works, ladies,” Max’s voice interjected over Lucas.

“We can only pray, over.”

Dustin set the radio down, flopping down onto his bed. Dear God, he hoped this worked.

**********************************************

You honestly had not stopped laughing since you set foot into the roller rink. There was a literal working disco ball and coloured lights flashing around. And the literal icing on the cake was that the roller skates were all an ugly teal colour, as if someone had glued ugly bowling shoes to wheels. To see King Steve rolling around on these ugly skates made it hard for you to breath.

“Can you please stop laughing? We are here to help Dustin learn how to skate!” Steve huffed out, trying to keep his own grin at bay.

“You mean that Dustin?”

Steve turned around to follow your pointed finger to see Dustin skating around like he had been doing for years. He felt heat flood his face and just knew his face was that deep red he hated. When he turned around he found you putting on your own pair of ugly skates.

“Hey, what are you doing?”

“Listen, we came here for you to teach someone to skate. You can teach me if you want to. Mike and Lucas taught Dustin years ago, but I only know how to kind of stand up straight. So it’s all up to you, sensei!”

You grabbed his hand struggling to stand up on the skates. You really didn’t want to skate but the embarrassed look on his face made you put the skates on. The deep shade of red that stained his cheeks didn’t go away when you leaned against him. Whenever his face went red like this, it made you want to cup his face in your hands and just kiss him. But you couldn’t do that so instead you just took his hand and let him pull you into the rink.

“So you’ve really never skated before,” he muttered, skating backwards and tugging you forward, “that seems like something a dad would do?”

“Dad left a while ago, I barely know how to ride a bike without falling off it.”

This was one of the worst mistakes you’ve ever made. You kept wobbling all over the place and your hands gripped his in an iron clad vice. Steve slowed down, pulling you closer to him. The sudden motion made you trip over your feet, falling against him. All of sudden you were so close to him. You could feel his heartbeat. He could feel the rise and fall of your breathing. His arms were wrapped around you, holding you up and against him.

“Hey.”

That was when the song “You’re the Inspiration” came blaring through the radio. Both of you jerked back, looking around and confusion was written across both your faces. You spotted the kids staring at you both over the edge of the rink. The second you made eye contact with Dustin they all ducked their heads down immediately. When you turned back around, you had to flinch back at the daggers Steve was throwing at the kids.

“That glare could kill someone if you aren’t careful,” you whispered.

“Sorry, I just didn’t expect to be parent trapped by some 13 year olds,” he muttered, glancing down at you, “but while I got you here maybe I should just tell you that I really like you.”

“No you don’t. I’m dorky and annoying and disorganized and-“

“And perfect.”

You let out a tiny laugh, leaning your head against his chest. This felt like a tiny million cheesy clichés in one moment but it also felt like the moment you’ve been waiting for forever.

“I like you too.”

“Hmmm no you don’t. I’m a jerk and a mess and damaged and-“

“And perfect.”

With that, he leaned down to let his lips crash against yours. You let your hand grip his shirt tightly, pulling him closely to you. The kiss deepened making you lean into him more. That was when he lost his balance, falling down and pulling you down with him. You landed on top of him with a groan. A flurry of giggles erupted from both of you, short bursts of kisses interrupting the laughs. From the other side of the rink, Dustin sat on the carpet feeling happiness bubble up inside of him. The two most important people in his life were finally happy and finally together.

Tag List: @jxnehxpper @sourapplebaby @wolfish-willow

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x henderson!reader #stranger things imagine #steve harrington imagine #i died a little writing this #this feels so cute

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cayenne-twilight · 4 years

Note

Hi! Could you write something about Sophia and Anton's daughter (let's call ber Iris) if she knew her father? Bonus for baby Katia! Thank you!

The little girl sat on her mother’s lap, dressed in pajamas. Her mother brushed her vibrant purple hair, a trait she had passed down from herself.

“Ow mama, stop,” the girl pouted. “You’re pulling.”

“Sorry, Iris,” Sophia said, pulling the brush more gently. “If you quit rolling around in the fields, you wouldn’t have these tangles.”

Admittedly, Dropstone did have the most charming landscape. That was why she chose this particular area to settle, after all. Well, that was part of the reason at least. The pond near town center, the rolling fields, the mountains in the distance, beaten paths winding between sparse clusters of trees; it was all very lovely. A change of scenery.

“That better be it, mama,” Iris said, pulling her hair over her shoulder protectively.

“Thank you for being patient,” Sophia smiled.

“You have to tell me a real good bedtime story to make up for the yanks,” Iris said.

Sophia hoisted the girl onto her bed and tucked her in, kissing her cheek. “Hmm, would you like a fairy tale from the storybook?”

“Nuh-uh. I’ve heard all of those over and over again. How about a brand new story?”

‘I should add a public library to my list of projects,’ Sophia thought. “I suppose I can make something up, but I can’t guarantee it’ll be as good as the old stories.”

“No matter, just as long as it’s fresh.”

“Here goes nothing then,” she brainstormed for a moment. “Did any of your stories have vampires in them?”

“Vampires?” Iris’s eyes widened. “This better not be a scary story. You’re supposed to be putting me to sleep, not keeping me up all night, remember?”

Sophia petted her hair. “No, love. This was a good vampire. He lived in a big castle in the forest, and he liked to throw balls with lots of music and dancing. The decorations and tableware were made out of the most brilliant gold. After all, vampires can’t touch silver, you know. His hair was golden, too, and he had a flowing cape that swooshed around as he danced. He was awfully charming, and lots of ladies wanted to dance with him.”

“But don’t vampires have to drink blood?” Iris asked.

“This one had a penchant for um… grape juice, and it kept him satisfied.” Sophia started the story from the beginning.

It would be a lie to say that the drive to Herzen mansion wasn’t daunting. The surrounding town of Folsense may have been welcoming with its warm glow and interesting brand of night life, but this maiden’s destination was detached from the outside world. The road took her through a shadowy thicket, gangly trees arching over her on either side. She tried to imagine what this trail must look like on a sunny spring day, but she couldn’t quite put the image together. She arrived at the massive building’s doors, parking her car. The maiden grabbed her clutch purse and pulled her faux fur coat tightly around her torso as she scuttered inside, taking care to not trip over her heels.

A short, bespectacled man with a downward hooked nose took her coat and pointed her towards the main hall. She was amazed at the sheer size of it. Sure, her father had a countryside mansion of his own, but she could probably stuff most of it into this room alone. She couldn’t imagine what it must be like upstairs or inside those turrets visible from outside.

“And what might your name be?” The young man approached her, a champagne flute in each hand.

She accepted the drink. “Sophia. And you?”

“Anton. Anton Herzen.” He winked.

So this is Duke Herzen’s son. He was certainly handsome-

“Whoa, mama! The girl has the same name as you?” Iris said.

Sophia laughed. “Yes, what a coincidence.”

Sophia and Anton made small talk over fine hors d’oeuvres, seated in the cloister above the main hall.

Anton popped the last piece of a finger sandwich into his mouth. He gestured towards the couples dancing below. “Care to join them?”

They walked down the stairs arm in arm, getting into position to waltz as the live orchestra flipped their sheet music to the next song. They met eyed and smiled. The first hum of strings cued them, stepping back and forth to the rhythm. They swirled across the floor, performing spins at the proper moments.

“So tell me what it’s like, being a Herzen,” Sophia said.

“Being a Herzen? Why, it’s nothing to write home about, save for the family wealth perhaps.”

“Oh really?”

“Yes. Father’s got himself occupied with some silly new business venture. I gather he’s going after pharmaceuticals now, which rubs me the wrong way considering that he doesn’t even know how to alleviate the common cold.”

“Pharmaceuticals? That is odd. He already owns the gold mining company, doesn’t he?”

“That’s just it. The miners have discovered some sort of hallucinogen trapped in the rock, and now they’re searching for a way to harvest it and rework it into anesthesia or anti-anxiety medication.”

“I can’t imagine there being a safe way to do that,” Sophia said.

“There must be, and I hope to God father knows of it.”

With the end of the song, they returned upstairs to continue the next course of food.

Iris yawned. “Now I mean this as constructive story-telling criticism, but this is getting a bit boring. What about the part where the guy is a vampire? Or was that a surprise for later? *Gasp* Maybe the girl will find out he’s secretly a monster and will have to decide whether she’s afraid of him or if she’ll love him anyways!”

“I should’ve thought of that,” Sophia said. “Maybe you should be the one telling stories.” She booped Iris’s nose like a button. “At least I’m succeeding in making you sleepy.”

“What’s Folsense like?” Sophia asked.

“It’s lovely. The lights are beautiful at night, and I’m not just saying that because of the cabaret.”

“I’d love to take a walk there one of these days. Would you be so kind as to give me a tour?”

“Yes, of course. I know Folsense like the back of my hand, and it knows me. Well, except for the people I pranked last Halloween when I ran around convincing them I was a real vampire. That reputation still follows me among the less social townsfolk.”

“I would love to have been there and seen it. Halloween must be a blast in a mansion like this, what with the gothic architecture and spooky forest.”

“I’ve never thrown a Halloween party before, but now that you mention it, it would be surely be smashing.”

Anton took a long drink of his red wine and spoke again, “Where are you from?”

“I live pretty close to London.”

“London? But that’s so far off! It must have taken you, what? Two hours to get here?”

“It’s really not as long as it seems.”

“But it’s already so late! If you left early you’d still only get home in the wee hours of the morning.”

“I could stay at the Folsense hotel-”

“Or you could stay here.”

“You have vacant rooms available?”

“If you want a vacant room, that’s all right too.”

“I don’t.”

Sophia decided it would be best to skip that part of the story.

Anton was still asleep when she woke up the next morning. She put yesterday’s clothes back on and took the chance to explore the castle. Sophia ducked in and out of unlocked doorways, looking for something like a living room or dining room. She found the sheer number of unused spaces odd, thinking that she would surely use them for something more useful, or at least make each room more unique. She stumbled upon the dining room where the Duke was taking his breakfast.

“Nigel, fetch the kettle, would y- DEAR GOD girl, who are you?” the shock faded as soon as it set in. “You wouldn’t happen to be one of Anton’s-“

Sophia laughed nervously. “No, no, nothing like that. He just let me stay the night because I live so far away. Really.”

The Duke’s eyes narrowed as he dabbed the jam from his whiskers with a napkin. “Leave.”

Sophia thought about Anton still asleep in his room. “Um… right. I’ll be right out.” She smiled fakely, trying to remember how to get to the front door.

She gently cracked open the door to Anton’s bedroom. “Antoooon,” she stage-whispered.

He opened his eyes and pushed himself up. “Eh?”

“Your father wants me out. When can I see you again? Maybe we could meet in Folsense?”

“Ah, sorry about him. Are you free next Saturday? We could meet in front of the museum around noon, perhaps.”

“Sounds great! See you there.” Sophia left him, walking through the hallway into the main hall and down the steps to the front door. She retrieved her purse and coat, leaving for her car. Sophia drove home through the rolling hills and fields of the countryside in a dreamy state of highway hypnosis.

“She fell in love with the guy,” Iris stated.

“Yes.”

“And his dad doesn’t want them to be together. It’s a story of forbidden love! Do they have to meet up in secret and serenade each other through the window from outside?”

“Don’t worry, Iris. The Duke isn’t a bad guy, he just cares about his son in his own way, I suppose.”

Sophia and Anton would meet up periodically about town, but although it was good fun, they couldn't do this forever. Anton led Sophia by the hand into the mansion and up to his office.

“Father.”

“What is it Anton? I’m busy.”

“I’ve come to say that I love Sophia whether or not you agree with it, and that she will be coming over no matter what you think.”

The Duke sighed. “You’re right; I can’t stop you two, no matter what I think.”

To Duke Herzen’s distaste, Sophia ended up practically moving in. He appeared to be in denial, engaging young Freidrich in conversation or turning to his legal documents whenever they were in the same room. The young couple tried to keep to themselves, which one would think to be easy in a house of that size, but he seemed to turn up at every corner as if watching them.

Sophia sat down next to him in his library one day. “I didn’t take you for the type to read Poe for fun.”

“Well here I am. Do you read him?”

“Oh of course! I love that surreal macabre stuff. I’ve actually been curious about the mines below the castle; isn’t it a dangerous setup?”

Duke Herzen closed his book. “There were reports of coal being collected when they first built the foundation. I had the idea of digging deeper. I see how having a gaping pit under your home may seem precarious, but I trust in the beams and supports holding us up.”

“Anton mentioned some sort of gas discovered down there…”

“Did he now? That was meant to stay confidential.”

“Oh don’t get mad at him for it, it was but a slip.”

“Still, I’m sure this could become the next big thing in pharma. I need to find the men to research and rework it, but after that it’ll be smooth sailing. I didn’t think you’d be interested in this sort of thing.”

“I can’t deny that I have my concerns, but admittedly this is all very curious.”

Duke Herzen reopened the novel. “Look after him, will you?”

“The vampire’s dad was very cold at first,” Sophia said. “But his heart started to warm up as he got to know the maiden. Soon enough, he began confiding in her. The maiden and the vampire lived together in his castle until one terrible day, tragedy struck.”

“Aww come ooon. I thought this was gonna be a sappy feel good love story. No tragedies,” Iris whined.

“Okay fine. No tragedy.”

“There’s more of it seeping out and diffusing into the air than we thought,” Duke Herzen said from his sickbed.

“What does this mean? Have you lost all hope in stopping it?” Sophia asked, masking panic.

“There’s not much we can do but leave it alone and move somewhere else. Not that I would make it much longer anyhow.”

“Oh don’t say that rubbish.”

“You can’t change the fact of the matter, my dear.” He smiled weakly. “I’ll leave it up to you to lead the evacuation.”

“But so many people don’t plan on leaving. What of them?”

“We can’t force anyone to go.”

“That’s awful- don’t they know-”

“Whatever they’re thinking, their minds won’t change.”

“Awful,” Sophia muttered again.

“I’m staying!” Anton yelled. “I know the risks, and I know that I feel responsible for this town, so I can’t just leave it.”

“You idiot!” Sophia retorted. “There’s no future for Folsense, so stop acting like you’re immune from this gas unlike everybody else.”

“And here I was thinking you’d stay with me.” He turned away.

Sophia grimaced.

“How about we just go to bed and talk this over like normal people tomorrow morning?” he sighed.

Tomorrow morning Sophia was gone. She got up before the sun and kissed Anton’s sleeping head. Lugging her trunk down the ornate staircase, she took a final look around the home she called her own, around the hall where he and she shared their first dance. Nigel handed Sophia her coat, he was staying as well. She stepped out into the crisp air where birds were only beginning to chirp and walked through the woods to the station. They really weren’t all that spooky in the daytime. Charming, really. Friedrich helped her pull the luggage up from the platform.

“Is it really okay? To leave him here, I mean.”

Sophia scanned the rooftops of Folsense once more. “I don’t know, Friedrich. I don’t know.”

She didn’t tell him the train was today. She didn’t tell him that they didn’t plan on coming back once this all “blew over” because she suspected it wouldn’t. She didn’t tell him about the baby.

The train hissed and whistled, pistons coming to life and shoving the wheels along the tracks. This was it. Her last look at Folsense. Her last chance to be with him. The town disappeared before she could notice, replaced with a view of rolling fields and sparse trees. She took a deep breath. This was it.

Sophia snapped back. “The vampire and the maiden threw a grand big wedding and invited all the townsfolk. At first they were wary of the vampire, but it turned out to be a jolly fun evening. They lived together happily ever after, and even had a little daughter who hated having her hair brushed. The good vampire protected the town for the rest of time, no matter what, so all the people could be safe and happy like them.”

“Wow, it’s like I was there, mama,” Iris giggled. “You should start writing this stuff down.”

“Oh hush, dear. It’s far past your bedtime.” Sophia kissed Iris on her sleepy head and left the room. It’s like she was there again.

#professor layton #anton herzen #diabolical box #pandoras box #layton #professor layton fanfiction #professor layton spoilers #you were expecting fluff mwahahaha but it was i angst #i am incapable of writing without starting past midnight and pulling an all nighter #had to do a big find and replace to change all sofias to sophia #big fat sorry for being like a month late lol #sad antonxsophia hours #long post #ct writes

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creaturefeatures-and-mysticyarns · 5 years

Text

Gala (MLM)

Characters: Male ¼ Dragon, Male reader

Content Warnings: a few instances of mild language; making out; fade-to-black/implied sexytimes

Rating: Lime; or if you prefer non-fruit ratings we’ll go with M(ature)

Word Count: 2878

You sighed, resisting the urge to drop your head to the green silk-clothed table in front of you, and asking yourself for the third time that night what cosmic power you had angered to draw the short straw of representing your employer at the world’s dullest charity gala. The salads had only just been cleared away and there had already been four different speeches by ancient white men about how important these rare books were that needed preservation. Now one of the event organizers had just announced that there would be a five minute break between speakers and then the audience would be hearing from one of the preservation experts who had been selected for the project with an explanation of the process.

You rolled your eyes at the tittering jewel-toned gossips who thought they were being inconspicuous with their hands blocking their mouths from view, as if you didn’t know they were commenting on the fact that you were practically the only person attending the party without a plus one.

Black and white clad waiters circled the room, half of them placing large, heavy ceramic plates with about three forkfuls of some sort of odd vegetable and pasta dish in front of each seated guest, and the other half filling empty crystal wine glasses with a deep red wine that you suspected cost more per bottle than you made in a year, maybe two. The same event organizer that had spoken before was back on stage, listing the credentials of the restoration expert, someone named Reeves Ahura, who had so many specialized degrees that added letters to the end of his name that he may as well have had the whole alphabet, twice over. Finally, a polite smattering of applause signaled the end of the introduction. The audience sat in hushed silence for a moment before he came on stage, at which point a shocked gasp rippled through the room, enough to get your attention and make you look up from poking at the food before you.

Not wanting to be rude, especially since the rest of the audience was less than subtle and he seemed to be shifting uncomfortably because of it, you tried to stifle the gasp that rose up in your throat.

There was no other word that could describe Reeves Ahura than gorgeous. Clearly, he was somehow dragon, but, you suspected probably a draconic grandparent at the most. His broad-shouldered form perfectly filled out his cleanly-cut black tux and pale blue undershirt, which made the deep, blood-red of his scales seem all the sharper in contrast. Two horns protruded from each side of his temples, framing a slightly wild mane of curly brown hair that cascaded down to his shoulders (or possibly further, it was hard to tell from your place at the back of the room). His snout was the thing that most betrayed his mixed heritage, being much stubbier than that of the dragons and half-dragons you had met and blending more slightly into his rounded face rather than having a more distinct and prominent shape. Still, you thought it made his face more open and friendly which only added to his charm. He raked one four-fingered hand through his hair, knife-sharp black talons catching the stage lights, and began to speak. Despite having no actual interest in it, you found yourself hanging onto his every word, his smooth, sonorous voice as hypnotizing as his appearance.

All too soon for your liking, his speech was over, and he was walking off stage to tepid applause which quickly trailed off into an awkward silence. Quickly, someone came up and introduced the next speaker, and you let your focus drift for the rest of dinner. Following the four course, disappointingly small-portioned dinner, it was announced that there would be ninety minutes of dancing and then the evening would round out with a silent auction to raise more proceeds for the restoration project. You picked a spot in a corner and settled, leaning against the wall to wait until enough time passed to make it polite for you to leave, closing your eyes to try to enjoy the music without the distraction of too many dancers all following their own pattern of steps.

You weren’t sure how many minutes had passed when you felt a shadow move in front of you and someone cleared their throat. “Hello,” a familiar voice said.

Your eyes shot open and you stood up straighter with a jolt. Reeves was standing in front of you, smiling charmingly, sharp, pearly white fangs actually glinting in the lights of the banquet hall, and you found yourself imagining seeing that smile forever. You noticed immediately that he towered over you, and probably would have done the same to pretty much everyone in the room, but rather than intimidating you, it only made you feel more drawn to him.

“H…hi,” you squeaked, caught off-guard, and winced at the sound of your own nervousness.

“I couldn’t help but notice that you’re over here, unaccompanied and apparently disinterested in the evening’s festivities.” A claw raked through his hair as he spoke.

“Well, yeah. I mean, I’m just here because the company I work for donated a bunch of money to the project and needed to send a sacrifice…er, representative. Unlucky me.” You shrugged, trying to play it cooler than you felt.

He laughed. “If it was me in your shoes, I would have at least brought a date, try to impress them.”

“It was offered as an option, but since I have no one…”

“A handsome, unattached gentleman, hm? Well isn’t it my lucky night.”

“What?”

“Dance with me?” He held out a hand to you and you found yourself taking it.

He pulled you out onto the dance floor with a dramatic sweep before wrapping his other arm around your waist. A shiver ran up your spine at the feeling of his hand on your hip, and you hesitantly placed a hand on his shoulder. Clearly he intended to lead you, and you were content to let him. The pair of you moved in smooth, dramatic loops of the floor, not showing off but not shying away from the attention either. Neither of you seemed inclined to speak, so you took the opportunity to study him further. Up close you could see that his scales glittered in the light, as if someone had dusted over the red with a fine golden powder. His ebony horns were similarly gold-flecked. A long tail trailed down, close to his body, and brushed the floor like the trains of many of the ladies’ dresses. As one song transitioned into another, his hand gripped your hip a little tighter, guiding your bodies closer until they almost touched, only a hair’s breadth between you.

Several songs later, he cleared his throat again.

“I’ll keep dancing like this all night,” he practically purred, leaning down to speak softly directly into your ear. “But if we’re going to do that, we should get to know each other.”

You nodded and gulped, your mouth suddenly dry and all words gone from your mind.

He chuckled. “No need to be nervous, handsome. I’m not talking about life stories. Hell, I’d be content with just your name if that’s all you wanted.”

You took a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart and get your head back under control.

“Right, sorry,” you smiled sheepishly and introduced yourself and then trailed off into silence again.

“If you’re just trying to be polite, you can tell me and we’ll part ways. I won’t be offended.”

“No!” you both flinched at how loud your voice suddenly seemed. “It’s not that…I’m just…trying to figure out how I went from being absolutely miserable on a work assignment to dancing with the most gorgeous person in the room.”

He ducked his head, a mix of bashful and playful. “That’s twice now you’ve brought up work tonight, what is it exactly that you do? So I know what company to be grateful to for bringing us together.”

You felt your cheeks grow warm with a blush. “I work at Sanger and Durst, you know, the…” you frowned, pressing your lips together while you tried to work out a polite way to phrase what your employers did.

He raised an eyebrow. “I don’t meet many people who deal in cybernetics. And I’m a bit surprised they have an interest in preserving antiques.”

“They don’t, per se. But they’re trying to build up a bit of a better public image, so they’re dropping money on a lot of charities and sending employees to make appearances at major events.” You shrugged. “I don’t plan to work for them forever, but I’m trying to make the best of it while I’m there.”

“By going to boring charity galas you have no personal stake in?”

“They pay time and a half for it.”

He pouted dramatically. “I’m hurt you didn’t tell me that you were here because you’re secretly fascinated by the art of restoration or the history of ancient religious and magical texts.”

“Well I’m not about to lie in order to stoke the ego of a stranger.”

He dipped his head low again and his voice had taken on a distinctly husky tone when he whispered, “and what if we stopped being strangers?”

You swallowed heavily. “Well, then I’d say this evening turned out even better than I hoped.”

He smiled wolfishly at you but returned to dancing as if nothing had happened and leaving you utterly confused. Over the course of several songs, you began to notice that the pair of you had moved away from the center of the floor where you began, edging closer and closer to the exit of the hall. You raised an eyebrow at him and he winked before tilting his head upward to glance around the room. Satisfied with whatever he saw, or didn’t see perhaps, he dropped the pretense of dancing and gently tugged you through the open double doors. You followed behind as he led you around a corner and through another door. Only the light from behind you shone in, but you could tell he had led you to the coatroom, though it was mostly unused, given the warm summer night.

You opened your mouth to ask what he was doing but were cut off by him crashing his lips to yours. His hands came up to frame your face and he seemed to mold to you, backing you up until your back was pressed to the wall. Almost on reflex you pushed back as if trying to prevent even the slightest wisp from passing between your bodies. You heard a click as he pushed the door closed with his tail, plunging the room into almost complete darkness.

Your fingers tangled themselves in his hair, tugging gently. He responded by growling against your mouth and moving one hand down to your neck. Even without pressure, the roughness of the minute scales on his palm and the fingers curled around your throat caused a shiver down your spine and you groaned, parting your lips. He snatched at the opportunity you presented and quickly your kiss became a passionate battle for dominance, as much teeth and tongue as lips.

Your lungs practically screamed for air before you parted. He smirked at you, moving away from your mouth to trail down your jaw and nip at the soft skin behind your ear. Unwilling to let him be the one with all the control you rolled your hips against him to put him off guard, causing a groan that almost sounded like a growl, and then spun the pair of you so that he was the one pinned against the wall, your legs intertwined and bodies pressed impossibly tighter together. Your lips came back together and hands roamed inquisitively over each other’s bodies as if mapping every curve and plane. You gasped when you suddenly felt something else wrap around your waist, stroking your backside a few times before giving a gentle smack. You jerked away from him, startled, and he chuckled, making you realize that it was his tail.

“Reeves,” you whispered breathily. “How secure is this closet?”

“It’s another hour before anyone’s going to leave. The staff will wait until the last possible minute before sending someone to man this place. We should be alone for a while.”

“Good,” you sighed, guiding him out of his suit jacket before bringing your fingers up shakily to pull at his bowtie.

As you continued to undress him, you pressed gentle kisses to his jawline, neck, and every new inch of skin exposed by the undoing of a shirt button, marveling at the rough feeling of his scaled skin under your lips. When you pulled off his belt and moved to unzip his trousers, he made a clucking noise with is tongue and pulled you back to him.

“Oh no, handsome, I’m not about to let you expose me completely while you get to stand there fully clothed and dignified,” he teased before pinning you to the wall again and kissing you heartily.

He was far less cautious and slow when it came to undressing you than you had been with him. In fact, you were almost certain that you felt some of your shirt buttons pop as he tugged at your clothes, but you found yourself unable to care, too wrapped up in the feeling of him sucking at your pulse point and his hands travelling lower and lower down your body. When he’d gotten you down to your boxers, kicking off his own pants to match at some wholly unnoticed point, he paused. He brought his hands up to plant them on either side of your head and placed more distance between you than there had been since the moment you met.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked softly. “We can stop here, no questions, if you’re not absolutely certain.”

You leaned toward him and noticed that he shifted to keep the distance between you. “I want this,” you whispered, “I want you. Do you want this too?”

“Gods above and below, yes,” he groaned. “I want you so bloody much it hurts.”

You smiled coyly. “Then take me. I’m yours, any way and every way you want.”

Evidently, that was all he needed to hear because he practically fell on you with a growl. If you thought it had been intense up until then, it was nothing compared to the feelings and sensations and ecstasy that passed between you from that point on.

All too soon, you parted to redress, knowing that your time was up and you needed to make yourselves decent and make an escape from the coat closet.

“So,” he said, passing your suit jacket to you without turning around, as if he was afraid to meet your eyes.

“So?” You questioned, letting your fingers brush the inside of his wrist as you took it from it and frowning at his resulting flinch.

“Is this the part where we walk away, never speak again?” A pin drop would have sounded like canon fire in the deafening silence that followed.

“Is that what you want?” you asked eventually, trying, and failing, to hide the hurt in your voice.

He shook his head sharply. “No. It’s not what I want at all. But to ask for what I want would be presumptuous and you wouldn’t be the first person in the world to hook up with a stranger just to liven up a boring party.”

“Reeves,” you said as you moved back over to him and slid your arms around his waist, pressing a gentle kiss to his shoulder blade through the material of his silky dress shirt.

“I think I like you a lot,” you mumbled into his back. “If nothing else, tonight made me want to get to know you better.”

“I don’t know, I think we got to know each other quite well just now,” he joked ask he turned around to face you.

You rolled your eyes. “I meant on the inside,” you held up a warning finger, “don’t say it.”

He pouted dramatically at you as you crossed over the threshold of the closet and headed back down the hall to the exit, following close behind you and twining your fingers together.

“I want to know more about you than that you’re incredibly smart and unfairly gorgeous and apparently able to find the innuendo in anything. If you’ll let me, I want to learn everything.”

He smiled brightly then. “I like the sound of that. I like it a lot. Can we start over dinner tomorrow night?”

You nodded and returned his grin with one of your own. “Perfect. Now if you’ll excuse me,” you sighed, pulling apart from him. “I have to go pace and hop around like an idiot until I can find enough signal to call an Uber back to my apartment.”

He reached out, a gentle hand curling around your wrist as you raised your phone in the air to pull you back to him and kiss you fiercely.

“Or,” he said, his lips brushing yours, “you could come home with me?”

#dragon boyfriend #dragon lover #1/4 dragon #exophilia #dragon x reader #MLM #might be the first entry in a grander universe #male dragon x male reader #lime #citrus scale: lime #M for Mature #implied sexytimes #but a fairly straightforward makeout first #this might be the closest thing to straight smut I've ever written #constructive criticism welcome #next step in the writing process: get better at titles #sort of a meet-cute #also fancy party trope because I love it #you can pry it from my cold dead hands

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coffeeandcalligraphy · 5 years

Text

Animal Instinct + Dead Disco | Writing Update

Hey People of Earth!

We’re back with another Moth Work update because ya girl has finished two chapters and is here to spill all the tea! If you missed update one, and two, be sure to check them out before reading this one! I’ve been having a bit of cabin fever with this project lately which has made it difficult to really immerse myself into the project. But we’re almost at the 20k mark of this project which is wILD! I never imagined writing so much of this story (which was initially just a guilty pleasure) and I’m happy with how much I’ve learned about my characters just through this small detour in the series.

The first chapter I’ll be updating on is chapter four, ANIMAL INSTINCT.

This chapter was a giant pain to finish! It had about 5000 revisions mid-draft, and I definitely feel like I had blinkers on when writing it. Because of that, I lost sight of the big picture and really got stuck on the little things, like the writing and overall quality of the project. This was not actually the purpose of Moth Work--it was supposed to be a dumping ground for whatever. However, in this chapter, I became really hyperfocused on all the small details I disliked which made drafting it a month-long process. I’ve now come to a slightly healthier place with quality in this draft, and found a middle ground between trash-dumping and nitpicking.

What’s it about?

Animal Instinct is a major point of tension for Lonan and Harrison as their goals deviate. This chapter focuses heavily on the volatility of their relationship and highlights Lonan’s current irrational mental state. The title stems from this idea of calculated action for the sake of a single person’s benefit.

The writing bit:

I struggled to write this chapter quite a bit. It took me the majority of July to complete because of a major logic problem I kept running into. After struggling for a few days, I finally realized by fleshing out what I’d written initially, I could overwrite the logic problem. The solution took a lot of work/test scenes to figure out, but eventually I got it!

Excerpts:

I shared this excerpt before because it’s one of the only paragraphs I don’t mind in this chapter! I think the flow is a lil funky but I dig the concept! This outlines the last bits of the cabin, specifically Harrison’s final check around the perimeter.

Around the corner, the back patio is static—like Anna and her son never stopped sitting there. Her bowl of avocado and Greek yogurt—the holistic remedy Emily said would make her glow like an angel—sits gummy and pestered with flies. One of Milo’s toys is wedged under the cheap lawn chair. It haunts him, seeing them while not seeing them, but he leaves everything like it is. Anna and her son will always remain on the patio, Anna with her cheekbones splayed for the moon, Milo babbling mildly about his father like he hasn’t made the connection. They’ve gone invisible.

After this first scene, Harrison does some driving in the dark which gives me major book three vibes lol, and eventually pulls into a motel somewhere in Nevada. This route from Oregon to Boston makes no sense but I conveniently needed Lonan to end up in Vegas, so!! do it for Vegas!!

In the motel, Harrison meets Jeremiah, his potential new man lol. Harrison is focused on getting in and out of there as quickly as possible, but he’s like dang mans teeth are the straightest I ever did see (me too tho). Because he gets distracted, he fails to notice his car turn off, and only makes the connection after passing it a few times in the parking lot. He minorly paniques as he looks for Lonan, but eventually finds him around the building.

The scene that follows gets volatile as heck, and really showcases how similar Lonan and Reeve are? Like dang that whole family tho? (Can I join?)

I’m not going to share much of this scene because she gets dramatic, but this is the wildest dialogue I’ve written in a while and I think I’m going to steal it and make Reeve say it because something like this would come out of her mouth:

“Do you feel that, Harrison? I could burn you with a cigarette and call it a wolf bite and nobody would know the difference.”

sounds normal at first then NOPE

The next chapter (chapter 5) is called Dead Disco:

This chapter came together very quickly because I’d had it basically planned out, however, it veered into an emotional direction I wasn’t expecting. This chapter was supposed to be fun and lighthearted, and it ended up being... not that??

What’s it about?

After the tragic drama that occurs in the previous chapter, Harrison wakes up the next morning to notice that Lonan has #left and #taken the car. This is v/ not good, but instead of getting super worked up he chooses to chill out at Jeremiah’s place and chill ft. some disco. I meant for it to be cute but Harrison ends up in a mental place I wasn’t expecting, so the chapter feels a bit “derealized” to me. After both Lonan and Harrison head out on their solo endeavors, they meet back up and this encounter ends *badly*.

Playlist:

July 31st Rachel was feeling very enthusiastic about the playlist for this chapter (I was writing while listening to music) and wrote down a list of songs that describe the progression of this chapter (in order + all Nothing But Thieves because predictable!):

Holding Out For A Hero

Crazy

Afterlife

Hanging

Excuse Me

Forever & Ever More

You Know Me Too Well

I’m Not Made By Design

Amsterdam

Number 13

Itch

Hostage

BUT SHOUTOUT TO: Disco by Surf Curse

Probably the most accurate vibe here lol

Excerpts:

This first excerpt is Harrison angsting hard about missing his friends. I don’t *love* her but I don’t *hate* her! I tried revising it but it... flopped, so here’s the failed revision:

Lonan could say those words and it haunts him, how easily he taints him like a bad omen. There are so many things Emily would tell him to do to cleanse the bad magic, but Harrison recalls none of them properly. He remembers words like moon, and black walnut, and quartz crystal, and cardamom, but can’t think of what to do with any. He wishes he were like Foster, curious enough to carry around a pocket dictionary, or like his mother, clever enough to make something up on a whim. All Harrison can do is bury his face in his palms outside the restaurant and hope no one watches him. The main road bustles by and he wishes to be invisible, like Anna and her son. He wants his friends back. Foster could lull him to consciousness with a quiz on the different kinds of plants, which are edible, which are poisonous. Reeve would split a cigarette with him and scare him back to life with her driving. Emily will never speak to him but at least she’d cast a curse on him, and even that’s better than his nullified state of living. It’s disorienting, to feel asleep while awake. Harrison blinks hard, but everything feels the same—the buildings all shimmering, the people staring barely even people, everything derealized like it’s all been coated in REM.

(tag urself i’m foster’s pocket dictionary)

This next excerpt outlines Harrison getting turnt with his new man and then getting philosophical? drunk Harrison be Aristotle and Madonna smushed together idk

Harrison knows he shouldn’t drink around a stranger but Jeremiah’s got a handmade bracelet and scribbly tattoos on his forearm so it’s hard not to trust him. Photo prints of hostels in Japan, statues in Europe, cathedrals in Paraguay decorate the walls in perfectly cut rectangles. Each is plumed with a dried flower and it reminds Harrison so much of Emily, he has to look away, back to the Lonan-coloured drink. He studies the shot glass like it isn’t transparent, the grooves around the perimeter, the engraving that reads Cancun 1987. He loses Jeremiah’s absent swish around him, and gets lost in the blue. The trifecta amazes him, how a colour as unnatural as this has manifested in Lonan’s eyes, his earring, this drink. He tips the glass back and finishes it in one go, and even though it’s strong and should taste like artificial blueberries, his mouth is tasteless and numb.

“You live here alone?” Harrison asks, raking his fingers through his hair. The apartment overlooks the strip across the street and Harrison gets lost in it, the artificial signs like bad advertising, the neons ill like influenza. When he looks toward Jeremiah again, his glass is refilled and he has to think hard to remember if he emptied it in the first place.

This is where Harrison manages to make disco big sad + some lowkey salt at Lonan which is always! a! win!:

Together, they move in a trance, limber and manic. The glass in Harrison’s hand isn’t a weight—it’s a lifeline. The apartment blurs, and waves in slow motion. Harrison doesn’t hear the music or taste the drink; he feels nothing in the ground, and everything in his tongue. His hair swims in his face like Lonan’s, moving like he did in the water, careless in his forehead, his eyes. The pictures on the wall become the pictures in his bedroom, and the blinking doesn’t get rid of them. In his sidesteps with Jeremiah he sees him, in the glass, across the street, under a streetlamp. Taking his cigarettes, his light, his car, his mouth like a cannibal.

To end this update, here’s some dialogue ft. savagery:

“You’re patronizing me.”

“You’re patronizing yourself.”

A meme to accompany this lol:

So that’s it for this update! At the time of drafting most of this post (which was a few weeks ago), I wasn’t really feeling this project, however, after writing chapter 6 and switching POVs into Lonan’s head (where there’s lots of messy stuff to work with), I’ve been having a lot of fun!

I’m sorry updates have been slow on this blog--I’m in the process of moving so I’m getting busy, however, I hope to post at least one more update before I go off to school! Thanks for reading. :)

--Rachel

#writing #writeblr #amwriting #writerblr #fostered #writingupdates #mothwork

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mikauzoran · 5 years

Text

Lukanette/Lukadrien/Adrienette Drabble: Nachtmusik Chapter Nineteen

A Little Night Music (Eine Kleine Nachtmusik) Chapter Nineteen: The Seagull

Nearly two hours later, Marinette sat up and looked back at Luka. “The movie can’t end like that. That’s not a happy ending. What gives?”

Luka could only shrug helplessly. “I like it. It’s bittersweet.”

Marinette shook her head in amazement. “I want ‘and they lived happily ever after’.”

Luka shrugged again, wondering absentmindedly if Adrien would like the movie. Adrien’s favourite type of ending involved the lovers both dying, their love frozen in time forever, untouchable, unable to fade or sour or break like so many of the relationships Adrien had experienced in real life.

“If it makes you feel better, the book’s ending is worse,” Luka offered.

Marinette glared at him. “You know what? That doesn’t make me feel better at all. What happens at the end of the book?”

Luka shook his head. “Spoilers.”

“You sound like Adrien,” Marinette accused.

“He’s rubbed off on me.”

Marinette’s glare intensified. “Lord, help us. Just don’t you dare start on the puns.”

“You like the puns when he’s not fooling around during a fight,” Luka reminded. “You pun back.”

She looked away with a snort. “Do not. …What happens in the book?”

“The book is more…cynical and disillusioned as a whole. It’s really different throughout. I think you should stick to the family-friendly version,” Luka suggested.

Marinette turned and studied his face for a full thirty seconds before she sighed and shrugged. “I want Miss Acacia’s dress.”

“So make her dress. Red is a beautiful colour on you, Chanson; I’d love to see it,” he encouraged with an easy smile.

Marinette’s cheeks slowly started to pinken. “I’ll have to add it to my list of potential projects.” She bit her lip, averting her eyes and then sneaking glances back at him. “But…actually…I’m thinking that blue is my colour.”

Luka blinked at her dumbly. “Blue? I mean, I’m sure you’re gorgeous in any colour, Marinette, but why blue?”

Marinette suddenly lost all coyness and turned to stare at him, defeated. “You know. Blue,” she hinted.

His eyebrows slowly found one another in a deep frown. “Like…your eyes?” he ventured.

Marinette groaned, covering her face for a moment before meeting his gaze once more, explaining in consternation, “Blue like your eyes, like your hair. Honey. Blue is your colour. I’m trying to be a real girlfriend over here, appealing to your macho, possessive nature by publicly advertising that I’m yours through my clothing choices. Work with me here because this is all I have going for me.”

“Oh, wow,” Luka chuckled, face going grenadine as he positively beamed at her. “Okay. Several things. You’re already a real girlfriend, Marinette.”

She stuck out her bottom lip in a pout to rival Adrien’s.

“You are,” he stressed, taking her hand in his. “We’re dating, aren’t we?”

“Yeah,” she grumbled. “But I just don’t feel like—It’s not like in the movies or on TV. I feel like I’m not doing it right.”

Luka paused for a minute. “Marinette…real relationships rarely play out like in fiction. I know you have no way of knowing this because you don’t have much relationship experience yourself, but…we’re never going to be like a rom com couple. Maybe we need to talk about expectations. All you can be is you, and all I can be is me.”

She bit her lip. “Do you think that just being me will be enough?”

“Remember two hours ago when I told you that you were epic?” Luka answered tenderly, reaching to move a bang out of her face.

A tentative smile began to bloom on her lips. “Yeah. Sorry. I’ve just…completely lost faith in myself this year when it comes to romance. …What were you saying? You were saying something about blue being my colour.”

He gave the side of her forehead a gentle kiss. “Next, I was going to say that I don’t know if I have a ‘macho, possessive nature’, but I’d love to see you in blue, and I appreciate the sentiment behind the gesture.”

Marinette hummed thoughtfully, considering her next move for a minute before casually inquiring, “And…is there anything else you’d like to see me in? Maybe…I don’t know…something Viperion-inspired?”

Luka gulped, mind immediately ending up in the gutter. “Is this a serious question?”

She nodded, smiling at his flustered state. “Yeah. I take requests. What would you like to see me wear?”

His mind went blank. “Uh…You don’t…happen to have anything Chat Noir-inspired, do you?”

Marinette blinked. “Really?”

“Is that weird? Sorry,” Luka rushed to apologize, looking away as his cheeks did a tomato impression. “Pretend I didn’t say anything.”

“No, it’s fine,” she assured, regaining her presence of mind. “I actually have a dress and some accessories I’ve made, but…I’m a little worried it would give Adrien the wrong idea. I don’t want to lead him on—provided he still even has feelings for me after everything anyway.” She looked away with a sigh.

“Right,” Luka hissed softly. “Right. Sorry. I…I guess I wasn’t thinking.”

Marinette glanced up and studied her boyfriend curiously. “Why Chat Noir exactly?”

Luka tensed. “Um…I mean…I like the aesthetic. Lady Noire was hot, so…” He trailed off, hoping she’d accept the explanation and not dig any deeper into his Marinette-Adrien-threesome fantasies. He knew they all had feelings for one another to some degree, but none of the relationships were really stable. None of them were really healthy. There was still a lot of hurt between Marinette and Adrien, and Luka was afraid that if he asked for what he really wanted, the whole thing would topple down on top of him like a house of cards.

“Another thing,” Luka changed the topic, meeting Marinette’s eye. “A minute ago you said that fashion was the only thing you had going for you, but you know that’s not really true, don’t you? Is that just your bruised self-confidence talking? Do I need to shower you with compliments to bolster your self-esteem?”

Marinette giggled, leaning back into him and giving him a kiss on the cheek. “God, you’re so sweet, Luka. That won’t be necessary, but thank you.”

“You just tell me when you need me to, and I will always be there to build you up, Chanson,” he promised, treasuring this moment, the warmth of her in his arms.

They sat there in silence for a bit, recuperating until Marinette nuzzled the underside of Luka’s jaw and whispered, “…I want to go stargazing. Can we go abovedeck for just a little while?”

“Sure, but it’s cold. It’s November, and it’s windy out on the water,” he warned.

“We can wrap up in a blanket and snuggle in one of the deck chairs,” Marinette suggested. “Just for a bit.”

Luka raised an eyebrow, inclining his head to look down at her. “How are we both going to fit in a single deck chair? They’re not that big.”

Marinette shrugged, cheerily proposing, “I can sit on your lap.”

Luka gulped but nodded. He wasn’t sure if she was acting so affectionate because it made her feel better after a rough day or if she was attempting to make him feel cared for, but Luka was starting to think that he was going to overdose on all of this physical contact.

They headed up to the deck of the Liberty and settled down in one of the deck chairs with Marinette in Luka’s lap and the blanket wrapped around them to fight off the chill of the night. She rested her head against his shoulder, and he held her tightly to him.

“I wish I knew the names of the stars,” Marinette mumbled. “You can’t see a lot of them in the middle of Paris, can you?”

“No,” Luka sighed. “You can’t…and tonight’s kind of overcast.”

“Oh well.” Marinette shrugged. “The ones we can see are pretty…. Those three look like they form a triangle. You see the really bright ones?”

“I know one of those is Vega,” Luka offered. “Not sure which one. The others are Altair and Deneb…. I’m more familiar with the summer sky, honestly. This, I look up and…I’m lost.”

“Why do you know about the summer sky?” Marinette inquired innocently.

“The person I told you about that I dated two years ago,” Luka replied in what he’d intended to be a neutral tone. It came out more wistful than anything.

“Oh?” Marinette was incredibly curious about this mystery girl who had decimated Luka so completely, but she was afraid to ask lest she step on sore feelings. Whenever he volunteered information, her ears always perked up.

“We dated from the end of March to the middle of August. When it was warm, we’d come lie out on the deck at night and look at the stars. They liked stars…used to point out the constellations and tell me the stories behind them…. Maybe next summer we can go stargazing. …Maybe invite Adrien sometimes. He likes stars. Maybe invite the others too, have a watch party,” Luka proposed, trying not to show blatant favoritism and failing.

“I’d like that,” Marinette whispered.

They were silent for a long while, just enjoying their collective warmth against the bitter wind and watching as wispy clouds moved across the sky.

Marinette took a steadying breath. “…I like being with you.”

Her words took Luka by surprise, and it was a moment before he could find the words to respond. “I like being with you too, Third.”

“I like you,” Marinette continued. “I do like you…. You believe that, don’t you?”

He nodded. “I know you like me.”

“I just don’t…” She stopped. “I think I’m broken. I don’t seem to be able to love like other people do. Like how you and Adrien love me,” she explained. “I don’t know if it’s just because I’m not as emotionally mature yet or something, but…I’m trying to be in love. I know what I feel is some version of love, but…I’ve thought I was in love before, and it turned out that what I thought was love wasn’t anything close to really loving someone. I thought what I felt was a big deal, but… My ‘love’ wasn’t as good as Adrien’s, and now…the love I feel for you is really cheap and small compared to your love for me. I don’t know if I can love big like other people.”

“Marinette, your love is plenty good enough,” Luka insisted, beginning to understand the storm raging inside her head a little better now.

She pushed back to look him in the eye. “No, it’s not. You’re not satisfied with it. Adrien wasn’t either. I appreciate you trying to make me feel better, but please don’t lie to me. I can tell that my feelings are inferior.”

Luka held her gaze for a long beat. “…I think…‘inferior’ is the wrong word…. ‘Different’. You’re eighteen, Marinette. It’s not normal for eighteen-year-olds to be mentally and emotionally competent about life and love and all that. You have time to grow and figure things out. You will grow and figure things out. Experience is going to polish you and make you glow. It’s okay to not be there yet.”

Marinette breathed a heavy sigh and melted back into his arms, squeezing him tightly.

“The truth is,” Luka continued softly, “you have a tremendous amount of love in your heart, Chanson. I can hear it, and the melody is exquisite. I can’t wait to see you grow and mature, hear how gorgeous your song becomes. Just give it time. Patience, Third. I’m so sorry if it ever felt like I was rushing you. I never meant to make you feel not good enough.”

She pulled back again, carefully cupping his cheek, staring intently into his eyes. “It always amazes me how much faith you have in me. It’s intimidating…but it feels really good too. It makes me happy that you don’t think I’m hopeless. …But what I want, Luka, is for us to get to a point where I’m not the only one constantly taking and taking from you. You’re always reassuring me and comforting me. I don’t feel like we’re on an even footing. I want to feel like I’m your partner…. I want to be able to comfort you too.”

“You do,” Luka breathed, pulse quickening as she leaned in close. “We’ll get there, Chanson.”

She closed the distance, placing a sweet, tentative kiss to his lips.

He responded gently, setting a slow pace. A series of feather-light brushes.

There was so much pain and uncertainty in it. Wanting more: more passion, more feeling, more authenticity on both sides.

Marinette’s brain wouldn’t shut off. She couldn’t stop wondering why she couldn’t just kiss the boy. Why was everything such a big deal and simultaneously not good enough, not enough. She liked him. Didn’t she like him? Or did she just like how he made her feel? Was she screwing things up with Luka just like she’d screwed up with Adrien?

And then she was thinking of Adrien. Adrien kissing that girl in the library for acting class. Or at least pretending to kiss her. Kissing Chat Noir on her balcony, sinking her teeth into his neck as he squirmed and gasped. His body against hers. Adrien.

LUKA.

She attempted to recalibrate her thoughts.

Luka hurt at her thinking of other boys while kissing him.

She panicked, gave up, pulled back. “Sorry,” she gasped, lips barely clear of his. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

She looked down at the confused expression on his face.

“Sorry,” she repeated.

Luka blinked several times slowly, swallowed, and nodded, seeming to accept that the kiss was suddenly over. “It’s…okay. You’re fine.”

She avoided his curious gaze by resting her head back on his shoulder.

He didn’t say anything, but he gave her a reassuring squeeze and kiss on the top of the head.

He began to wonder if this was really better than when she used to turn and give him her cheek when he tried to kiss her. He felt like her yoyo. He wondered if it were better to be kissed in this unfulfilling, emotional whiplash sort of way or if it would be better not to be kissed at all.

Ten minutes later, Luka broke the silence. “You’re not getting cold, are you?”

“No,” she replied sleepily. “You’re keeping me warm.”

“You falling asleep?” he chuckled.

“No,” she yawned.

He nuzzled her hair affectionately. “Yes you are. Come on, Chanson. Time to get you home. Do you want me to give you a ride on the motorcycle or we can ride the Métro? I can escort you in a cab?”

Marinette pushed back to meet his eyes. “I’d kind of like to stay here…. If that’s all right?”

“You want…to stay the night?” he confirmed, sure that his ears were playing mean, nasty tricks on him.

She nodded. “Can I?”

Luka’s brain was fried. She wanted…? Did she want…? Did he want? Okay, but even if they both did, was that even a good idea? That was the only question he had a definite answer to, and the answer was a resounding, emphatic NO. They couldn’t even kiss without it being stressful and complicated.

Luka shut his eyes and took a deep breath. “Marinette, we’re not having sex. Like, anytime soon.”

“Okay,” she replied in a small voice.

He looked at her pleadingly. “I can’t do this right now, okay?”

She nodded. “Okay. What about just snuggling? I don’t want to go home and be alone with my thoughts. I want to stay with you.”

He considered the proposal for a hard minute, his head reasoning that this was a horrible idea while his heart whispered that he wanted her with him too.

“Okay,” he finally decided. If he could resist Adrien, he should be able to resist Marinette as well, right? Except…Adrien wasn’t the least bit interested in getting Luka’s clothes off.

Marinette smiled shyly, causing Luka’s heart to melt. “Okay. Ready for bed?”

Luka nodded, unable to find his voice.

She came out of his bathroom with her hair down, wearing boyshorts-type underwear and the undershirt she’d been wearing beneath her puffy, electric blue sweater. She wasn’t wearing a bra.

Luka could easily tell at a glance that she wasn’t wearing a bra. The hard part was not outright staring. It had been a long time since he’d last seen breasts.

Internally, Luka cursed and tried to pretend that she was just wearing a swimming suit. Unfortunately, the mental image of Marinette in a swimming suit did similar things to him as Marinette in her underwear.

“Why are there two toothbrushes in your bathroom?” Marinette inquired out of curiosity. “I thought you were the only one who used this one.”

Luka’s brain broke for a different reason. “Uh…” In his muddled state, Luka decided to go for the truth. “Sometimes Adrien ends up here in the middle of the night if he gets upset or something. It’s easier to just keep a toothbrush and a change of clothes here. I’ve been led to believe that he has a similar setup at Nino’s and Chloé’s.”

Marinette nodded slowly.

Luka was expecting a teasing comment such as, “Wow. He really is your boyfriend, isn’t he?” but instead she remarked in an almost sad, nostalgic way, “Yeah. Chat Noir has a toothbrush at my house too—at least he did. Before, I mean. I mean, I still have it…not that he’s coming back.” She looked down at the floor, rubbing at her arm. “He slept on my balcony and my chaise from time to time. He spent the night a lot for a couple months about two years ago. Sometimes I’d wake up in the middle of the night and see him down on my chaise longue, but then I’d wake up in the morning and he’d be gone. Is that what he does to you?”

Luka shook his head, watching as she made her way over to the bed and slipped under the covers, taking the side by the wall.

“He typically stays the whole night with me and helps Rose make breakfast in the morning. I guess it’s easier now that his father is more lenient and there aren’t any secret identities to worry about protecting,” Luka reasoned as he turned off the light.

He hesitated before pulling back the covers and climbing into bed beside her.

She smiled shyly at him.

This felt, oddly, like a betrayal. He comforted himself with the fact that Adrien would never know. At least Marinette wasn’t sleeping on Adrien’s side of the bed. That would have just felt wrong.

It was bad enough that Luka was probably going to wake up calling Marinette “Angel” or “Ariel” and feel bad for betraying both Marinette and Adrien simultaneously. And then Adrien would probably find out somehow and be inconsolably hurt, and…

Luka forcibly turned off the downward mental spiral and directed his attention to the present moment where he was in bed with his girlfriend, about to spend the night cuddling.

Everything would be fine.

…Marinette was probably a cover thief.

“Night, Luka,” she whispered, settling in with her head resting against his shoulder.

He gave her forehead a grounding kiss. “Good night, Third. Sweet dreams.”

“Why are you going Eltz?” Adrien asked Rose, his back to her as he mixed together the ingredients for the blueberry lemon poppyseed scones with his hands like Tom had shown him, forming the dough into a ball before taking it from the bowl and rolling it out on the counter.

“I have accepted an engagement there for the winter. It is time for me to go,” Rose, who was sitting at the counter on one of the brightly coloured stools, read from a photocopy of the script.

Marinette paused in the doorway between the hallway and the main cabin. Rose had been living with the Couffaines off and on for years, so Marinette wasn’t really surprised to see her, but what was Adrien doing in the Couffaines’ kitchen at eight AM on a Thursday morning, and what were he and Rose talking about?

Adrien began to cut circles out of the scone dough using the rim of a cup and placed the resulting dough globs onto a baking tray, carefully equidistant from the sides of the tray and the other nascent scones.

“Nina,” Adrien replied bitterly, further confusing Marinette for a moment before she realized what was going on. “I have cursed you and hated you and torn up your photograph…” Suddenly Adrien’s voice became resigned with a hint of tenderness as he continued, “…and yet…I have known every minute of my life that my heart and soul were yours forever.”

Marinette’s heart stopped beating and then fluttered. She felt dizzy, overwhelmed, and oh so torn at Adrien Agreste’s vows of eternal love. He was a good actor, yes, but the feelings he was expressing had to come from somewhere, and she had a feeling that Adrien was very much drawing on his own feelings for her.

“To cease from loving you is beyond my power,” Adrien chuckled softly, sadly. “I have suffered continually from the time I lost you and began to write, and my life has been almost unendurable,” Adrien confessed, and Marinette believed him.

She had felt the same way. She’d lost her partner and friend Chat Noir just when they were beginning to be something more. She had lost her sweet Adrien, her love and her close confident. She’d ruined everything, and they’d been yanked away from her, out of her life, and it had been continual suffering ever since then trying to repair the damage.

“My youth was suddenly plucked from me then, and I seem now to have lived in this world for ninety years. I have called out to you,” Adrien lamented. “I have kissed the ground you walked on, wherever I looked I have seen your face before my eyes, and the smile that had illumined for me the best years of my life.”

“Why, why does he talk to me like this?” Rose read in response, following the flow of the dialogue down the page with her finger, making sure Adrien had the lines right.

“I am quite alone,” Adrien whispered, an aching to his voice that broke Marinette’s heart because she could feel the loneliness behind those words, Adrien’s loneliness, the loneliness of years of enforced solitude with no one to comfort him, no one to rely on.

“…unwarmed by any attachment,” he continued. “I am as cold as if I were living in a cave…. Uh…” He paused and then muttered to himself, repeating without feeling, “I am as cold as if I were living in a cave…. Shoot,” he sighed. “Sorry. Line?”

“‘Whatever I write is’,” Rose prompted.

Suddenly Adrien was back in character, mournful, “Whatever I write is dry and gloomy and harsh…. Stay here, Nina,” he begged, and those words had all the broken desperation of when Adrien had looked at Marinette that spring on that park bench in the Tuileries and pleaded with her, “Please don’t leave me”.

Marinette’s heart lurched.

“…I beseech you, or else let me go away with you.”

“Nina quickly puts on her coat and hat,” Rose read the stage directions between Adrien’s lines.

“Nina, why do you do that?” Adrien despaired. “For God’s sake, Nina!”

Marinette let out a little gasp as she realized that Nina was leaving Adrien just like Marinette had left Adrien, and Adrien wouldn’t survive that kind of devastation again. It was bad enough that Marinette had hurt Adrien both as herself and as Ladybug. Nina couldn’t rip his heart out and stomp on it too. Adrien deserved better. Someone needed to stop Nina. Someone needed to protect Adrien…but Marinette was powerless to help. She was even more guilty than Nina. All she could do was watch and listen.

They talked. Nina’s coach was waiting at the gate. She didn’t want Adrien to see her out. She was leaving. She talked a bunch of nonsense, and Marinette got the impression that Nina was half mad. She seemed to be under the impression that she was a seagull that Adrien had shot two years prior? Marinette really wondered what Adrien saw in this Nina. Marinette really wondered what Adrien saw in Marinette.

Nina seemed to have a plan, though. She was an actress. She was going to be a great actress…if she didn’t end up in an insane asylum first.

“You have found your way,” Adrien sighed sadly. “you know where you are going, but I am still groping in a chaos of phantoms and dreams, not knowing whom and what end I am serving by it all…. I do not believe in anything, and I do not know what my calling is,” he replied, a deep weariness to his voice.

Adrien sounded so lost.

Marinette wanted to grab his hand and lead him through the chaos, out of the darkness and the loneliness, but she couldn’t. She knew she was powerless. No Lucky Charm would solve the problems between them and bridge the gulf.

“Nina embraces you impetuously and runs out onto the terrace,” Rose announced.

Adrien placed the scones into the oven, set the timer, and then stood there for a moment, looking numb. “It would be a pity if she were seen in the garden. My mother would be distressed.”

There was a pause that had Marinette leaning forward, on the edge of her figurative seat. Surely, Adrien would go after her despite her insistence that he not. Surely, they would be reconciled. Surely, there would be a happy ending for Adrien this time.

Adrien cleared his throat. “And then I slowly tear up all of my manuscripts, unlock the door, go out, and shoot myself. End scene.”

“What?!” Marinette screeched, making Adrien, Rose, and Luka (who had been standing behind her for God knows how long, watching her go to pieces over Adrien) all jump.

“No!” Marinette insisted. “It can’t end like that! You have to go after her! You can’t just shoot yourself! What the hell kind of play is this?!”

Luka placed a steadying hand on her shoulder. “Deep breaths, Chanson. It’s The Seagull by Anton Chekhov.” Luka looked up at Adrien. “Beautiful job.”

Adrien’s face lit up with a smile and a blush, and he moved to run a hand through his hair, stopping when he remembered the blueberry lemon poppyseed dough still sticking to his hands. “Thank you. I’m glad you think I did it justice. I know it’s your favourite Chekhov play.” He turned to look at Marinette shamefacedly. “Sorry it upset you.”

Marinette rounded on her boyfriend. “You like this?”

Luka shrugged. “It’s better if you see the whole thing. It’s really powerful if done well.”

Adrien winced. “Sorry for spoiling the ending.”

Marinette took a calming breath. “I think I need to stick to plays with happy endings. My life is angsty enough. I need fluff.”

“I’m doing a scene from Shakespeare’s As You Like It,” Rose informed with a sly grin. “It’s a gender-bender rom com. Much more digestible than Chekhov. Want us to do my scene to cheer you up?”

Marinette tried to smile, but it came out as more of a grimace. “Thank you so much, Rose, but Shakespeare is too smart for me this early in the morning. I actually just came in to see if you needed help with breakfast. I feel guilty eating if I don’t help cook,” she explained, coming over to lean on the counter next to Rose.

“We hadn’t really started breakfast yet,” Adrien laughed sheepishly, bringing the dishes he had used making the scones over to the sink and beginning to wash them. “The blueberry lemon poppyseed scones are technically for Luka, but he’ll probably share. We were thinking omelets, toast and jam, yogurt, fruit, and bacon for everyone else. We were just about to start.”

“You made him blueberry lemon poppyseed scones?” Marinette chuckled, mentally doing the math on how many scones Luka would have with Adrien’s batch now on top of the batch she had brought Luka the night before. “That’s really sweet of you. What’s the occasion?”

Adrien shrugged, demurring, casting his eyes down into the sink. “No occasion. Just…I know they’re his favourite, and your dad has been teaching me, so… I guess they’re a thank you gift for him always putting up with my crap twenty-four-seven.”

Marinette nodded, turning to smile at Luka who was standing back slightly, looking nervous. “I might have to steal your idea, Adrien; he puts up with my crap twenty-four-seven too.”

“Yeah,” Adrien chuckled, smiling besottedly down at the bowl he was cleaning. “He’s just awesome like that, isn’t he?”

“Yeah,” Marinette laughed fondly, not catching the lovesick expression on Adrien’s face.

Luka’s throat tightened. His nerves were on edge. He couldn’t even enjoy the flattery of the two objects of his affections because any second now Adrien was going to realize that Marinette had come from Luka’s bedroom, and there were going to be all kinds of misunderstandings, and Adrien was going to be hurt.

Rose’s eyes narrowed as she started to pick up on the fact that something was off. She looked back and forth between Luka and Marinette. Her gaze landed on the latter as she asked, “Marinette, when did you get here?”

Adrien looked up and frowned. “Yeah, I didn’t see you come in. I guess we were really caught up in running lines.”

Luka tensed, bracing for the explosion.

Marinette shrugged, cheeks beginning to turn rose petal pink. “I’ve been here.”

Rose’s head slowly tipped to the side. “But…we’ve been going over our scenes for almost an hour now. How early did you get here?”

Marinette bit her lip, squirming slightly as her blush deepened. She smiled shyly. “Last night?”

Adrien stopped breathing. His eyes went glassy. He stared unseeingly at Marinette, blinked, and then looked at Luka.

There he found guilt and apologies being silently screamed at him.

He looked away, back down into the sink. He tried to make his mind focus on the dishes, but he couldn’t help but think about how he’d been feeling down the previous evening and Luka hadn’t been available because he’d had “company”. Adrien had assumed that that meant some bandmates or friends from the Literature Department at university.

Had Luka and Marinette been in bed together when Luka had called? Is that why they’d enlisted Nino to babysit Adrien through his bad mood? So that he wouldn’t bother them while they…

He felt like such an idiot. He’d been excited about the dinner/concert date with Luka on Saturday. He’d been looking forward to Tuesday night dinner/movie/snuggling with Marinette and Luka, but…in reality, Adrien was grasping at clouds…the scraps of other people’s happiness that were occasionally thrown his way. Fragments of affection, shadows. It was all pointless, last-ditch efforts to make himself feel like he wasn’t being left behind.

He was being left behind. Luka didn’t need Adrien to make him feel better about the situation with Marinette now. Luka didn’t need him anymore now that things were going well with his girlfriend, so Luka was going to cut Adrien off so as not to endanger things with Marinette.

Echoes of something Gabriel had said to Adrien two years prior reverberated through Adrien’s head: why would Luka choose Adrien when Luka could have a happy, normal relationship with a girl? Was this what Gabriel had been afraid of? Adrien getting hurt like this? Adrien had thought Gabriel was just throwing anything and everything at the wall to see what stuck in a desperate attempt to separate Adrien from Luka, but…it seemed like Gabriel had hit on something real whether he’d intended to or not.

Adrien felt like he’d been wounded. It was a lot like the time he’d been impaled. There was pain and cold and numbness and terror and the panicked thought, “Oh, God. There’s a javelin sticking out of my chest. What do I even do?!”

Adrien couldn’t breathe. He was losing them both.

Vaguely, Adrien registered Rose saying something. It was a fast, high-pitched stream of words directed at Marinette, and then Rose was tugging Marinette back down the hallway, out of the main cabin, perhaps towards Rose’s room for an interrogation.

And that left Adrien alone with Luka, and Adrien was going to have to say something. Adrien was going to have to produce words and sentences in either French, English, or Russian and pretend like his world wasn’t falling apart freaking again. He had to handle this gracefully and not freak out and not behave like a lunatic like he had last time when Marinette had broken his heart. He had to keep it together long enough to make breakfast and sit through the meal, watching Marinette and Luka make morning after eyes at one another. He had to stay calm and collected long enough to get home where it would be safe to have a total meltdown.

For the time being, Adrien reached out with his mind for the kwami hiding in his right shoulder. He drew on Nooroo’s power, searching for some hint of calm or joy or tranquility or contentment out there beyond himself that he could make his own for the next hour or two. Someone in Paris had to be having a good day. There had to be one person at least from whom Adrien could borrow some small part of positive feelings to get him through this.

The first thing he felt was Luka, all guilt and panic and not what Adrien needed for once. He spread his search out farther, beyond the ship.

“Adrien,” Luka called, breaking Adrien’s concentration.

Adrien slammed the fire-doors of his emotions shut, putting on an empty smile that he had no doubt Luka could see through. “Good morning, Orpheus. It looks like I owe you a congratulations. I’m happy to see that things between you and Marinette are finally progressing. That’s good.” Adrien dropped his gaze to his hands and sadly added something that was actually true, “I mean, you deserve to be happy and have good things happen.”

“Adrien, this is all a misunderstanding,” Luka began, striding across the cabin and around into the kitchen.

Adrien let out a feral feline hiss and turned to glare as Luka approached. “Don’t even start with me. Look, it’s fine. Whatever. She’s your girlfriend. It’s completely normal for you to be sleeping with her. You don’t have to lie to me about it.”

“Adrien, I’m not,” Luka swore as he advanced.

Adrien backed away, growling softly. “Leave me alone.”

“I’m not sleeping with her,” Luka explained, reaching out to take Adrien by the arms.

Adrien backed up into the counter and gritted his teeth. “Don’t touch me.”

Luka grabbed a towel off the counter and caught one of Adrien’s hands, carefully rubbing it dry before taking the other one and doing the same. “I know you’re upset, but there’s no reason to be. Nothing happened. I promise you, Third.” Luka looked up and met Adrien’s gaze. He was surprised to find Adrien staring back at him with a mixed expression of hurt and sadness and betrayal on his face.

“‘Third’?” Adrien whispered. “Is that a new nickname for me…or is that what you call her?”

Luka looked away and cursed. When he turned back, he wore a pleading expression. “Adrien, I am so sorry. I’m not running on much sleep.”

Adrien let out an angry bark of laughter, ripping his arm out of Luka’s grasp. “Oh? Please, rub it in a little more!”

“Adrien.” Luka reached for him, but Adrien dodged. “That’s not what I meant. Please just listen to me.”

“I’m going home,” Adrien announced, sidestepping Luka and making to escape. “Don’t forget to take the scones out of the oven when the timer goes off. It’s not my fault if you don’t and the whole boat burns down. Tell the others…” He thought for a minute, pausing by the end of the counter. “…Tell them I died. Or, better yet, tell them the truth.”

Luka caught him around the waist and pulled Adrien back against him, holding him firm. “Please just listen,” he begged against the shell of Adrien’s ear.

Adrien stopped struggling and slumped back against Luka.

“Adrien, we didn’t have sex. We spent the evening snuggling. Yes, she spent the night in my bed, but that was the first time that had ever happened, and nothing happened between us. It was no different than when you spend the night.”

Adrien stiffened at that. “Did she sleep on my side of the bed?”

Luka shook his head despite Adrien being unable to see him. “Adrien, no. She slept on the wall side of the bed. P5, I’m not replacing you. There’s nothing to be upset about; she’s not taking anything that’s yours.”

Slowly, Adrien turned in Luka’s arms to meet Luka’s plaintive gaze. “You smell like her,” he accused without heat.

“I don’t suppose you have any of that Adrien the Perfume on you, do you?” Luka sighed. “I mean, if you did, we could douse me in that, and I’d smell like you.”

Adrien gave a snort of laughter at that, beginning to thaw. “No, but I do have some Camembert. We could always smear you with that.”

Luka chuckled, resting his forehead against Adrien’s. “I will do literally anything you say you need me to do to make things okay between us.”

Adrien bit his lip. “You didn’t sleep with her?”

“No,” Luka confirmed.

Adrien hummed softly in thought. “Did you two make out?”

Luka frowned, weighing his answer carefully before giving it. “Yes and no. We kissed, but…she’s not really into it. I mean, she tries to be, but…the only time that she was was when she was imagining she was kissing you.”

Adrien arched an eyebrow skeptically. “How can you tell?”

“She moaned ‘Minou’,” Luka sighed.

Adrien winced. “Oh. That’s me all right. Geez.”

Luka snorted. “Yeah.”

There was a beat, and Adrien’s arms wrapped around Luka, pulling him in tighter. “You okay?”

“Not really,” Luka mumbled with a tired shrug. “You okay?”

Adrien shook his head. “No. I’m kind of realizing how delusional I’ve been.”

Little furrows began to form in Luka’s brow. “Oh?”

Adrien nodded. “This whole time, I’ve been waiting and trying to coax you away, but you’re never going to leave Marinette for me, are you?”

Luka’s eyes flew open in surprise, and his lips parted to answer, but he was cut off by Anarka calling out in a much-too-loud voice, “Marinette! It’s so good to see you! I didn’t know you were here!” as she stood in the doorway between the hallway and the main cabin, blocking the way and the sightlines.

Adrien and Luka jumped apart and tried not to look guilty as Anarka looked back over her shoulder, observed that her son was no longer in a compromising position, and stepped out of the way, letting Rose, Juleka, and Marinette pass.

“Will you be staying for breakfast, Dear?” Anarka put on a big, friendly smile that belied her throbbing headache.

“If that’s okay?” Marinette bit her lip nervously. “I wouldn’t want to intrude, Capitaine.”

“Oh, no. Of course it’s okay!” Anarka assured. “The more the merrier, right, Luka? Adrien?”

The boys stammered out a slightly out of sync affirmative.

“Marinette, why don’t you help me prep the vegetables for the omelets?” Rose proposed, taking Marinette by the hand and gently tugging her over to the kitchen. “Adrien, can you start washing and cutting up fruit?”

“Sure thing,” Adrien assured, jumping into action (but not before nonchalantly letting his hand brush against Luka’s).

Luka countered with an affectionate smile, and Adrien responded with a subtle wink.

“Are we sure we trust butterfingers with a knife?” Juleka snorted sassily, sticking out her tongue at Adrien.

He answered in kind.

��Oh, you mean Adrien?” Marinette laughed heartily. “Gosh, Juleka. I thought you meant me for a second there.”

“O-Oh.” Juleka gave a start. “No. Sorry.”

“I’ve been known to cut myself a few times,” Adrien explained, coming up beside Marinette and giving her a little bump with his shoulder.

Marinette laughed and gave him a bump in return. “I don’t know if I want to share kitchen space with you. It sounds like you’re notorious with a blade in your hand wherever you go.”

She leaned into him, and he leaned back, both of them laughing as they halfheartedly tried to knock the other over.

Luka grinned fondly as he watched them horse around…until Juleka came up beside him and slapped his arm playfully, giving him a knowing eyebrow waggle.

He rolled his eyes at her and turned his attention to Rose. “Rosette, what do you need me to do?”

“I need you and Juju out of the kitchen,” she informed. “There’s not enough space for more than three, so the honorary Couffaines will be making breakfast. Couffaines by birth can go look pretty elsewhere.”

Luka snickered as he followed Juleka around to the other side of the counter, out of the way. “I’m sure Juleka will manage just fine, but I prefer to leave the looking pretty to Adrien and Marinette.”

Adrien gave a snort of laughter and lost the power struggle with Marinette, stumbling slightly as she knocked him off balance. In an instant, her hand shot out, grabbing his arm and steadying her partner.

Adrien chuckled sheepishly. “Thanks, Buginette.”

Marinette winked. “No worries, Chaton. I’ve got your back…even when you’re distracted by my smokin’ hot boyfriend.”

Luka choked on air, face taking on the hue of a firetruck.

“Oh, you noticed?” Adrien purred.

“What? The way you look like you want to sink your claws into him?” she joked.

“More than just my claws,” Adrien hummed, going over to the refrigerator to get out the mushrooms, peppers, broccoli, and onions for the omelets for the girls as well as the fruit to prep himself. “Would you be angry if I sank my teeth into him, or do only you get to do that?”

Marinette took the onion and carton of mushrooms from Adrien as he passed them to her. “Depends. Do I get to watch?”

Juleka put a hand over her mouth to stifle her laughter while she nudged her brother with her other arm. “Are they flirting with you or each other?”

“Guys,” Luka hissed, voice pained. “I am right here.”

Before either Marinette or Adrien could answer, Anarka spoke up. “Yes, and I actually need you abovedeck to help me with the sound system real quick. Can I borrow you for ten minutes, Luc?”

Luka quickly analyzed the situation between Marinette and Adrien and determined the atmosphere to be stable for now. They could be left alone together under Juleka and Rose’s supervision for ten minutes.

“Sure thing, Maman,” he easily agreed, not suspecting that Anarka’s excuse was only that.

#Marinette Dupain-Cheng/Luka Couffaine #Adrien Agreste/Luka Couffaine #Marinette Dupain-Cheng/Adrien Agreste #Miraculous Ladybug #Miraculous Ladybug Fanfiction #Lukanette #Lukadrien #Adrienette #Luka Couffaine #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #Adrien Agreste #Rose Lavillant #The Seagull #Mikau's Writings #A Little Night Music (Eine Kleine Nachtmusik)

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sunkissedpages · 6 years

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Late Night Resolutions || Harrison Osterfield x Reader

A/N: for @social-holland‘s 500 follower writing challenge! Congrats again, lovely!

Prompt: I broke my nose by running into a wall

Summary: after a fight with Harrison you spend new year’s eve at a party without him where you end up breaking your nose.

What I listened to while writing: Youngblood by 5 Seconds of Summer (....in high school I was a hardcore stan)

Warnings: swearing, blood, jealousy, angst

Word Count: 1.3k

Masterlist

You were definitely still a little bit drunk, which was mostly an advantage to you right now, but the flutes sparkly champagne had turned to bottles of gatorade and the loud music had faded to code blues being announced over the staticy intercom. You hadn’t planned to spend new year’s eve in the emergency room, but you hadn’t planned to get drunk off your ass either. You’d been sitting in the waiting room for over two hours now, but at least the pain had settled to a dull throb- thanks to the ice pack resting on the bridge of your nose.

Even though you’d already been waiting so long, your broken nose wasn’t exactly at the top of the priority list on a night like tonight when there were so many other people to attend to. You wanted to take a nap, despite the fluorescent lights and all of the chaos around you. You just wanted to close your eyes and forget all about tonight.

You heard Harrison before you saw him. Low, tired voice cut with a sharp accent speaking urgently to someone at the front desk. He stood at the entrance to the hospital, hands in the pockets of his sweats, asking a nurse where you were. Your instinct was to perk up when you saw him, but when you remembered everything that had lead you to this moment you felt betrayed. You lifted your head from Tom’s shoulder to face him.

“You called him?” you whimpered pathetically.

“I had to,” Tom replied apologetically and you laid your head back onto his shoulder with a sigh.

Impulsively, you pulled Tom’s suit jacket tighter around you, hoping it would somehow make you invisible. You were so embarrassed. The only reason your boyfriend wasn’t with you at the emergency room already was because you and Harrison had been fighting earlier. It was an old argument. As an editor you often brought your projects home with you, working late into the night until your eyes began to hurt from staring at a screen for too long or you fell asleep at your laptop. Haz felt like you overworked yourself into an unhealthy state, but you always defensively assured him you were fine.

Tonight things had escalated until you ended up at Laura Harrier’s new year’s eve party, which Haz had stubbornly refused to come to, to prove to him that you weren’t always working. Then you got wasted, naturally, because you were upset you were at a party on new year’s without your boyfriend. One thing led to another, and you broke your nose at said party. Fast forward through a ride to the hospital in Tom’s car, where Tom was freaking the fuck out the entire time and you were trying not to get blood on his nice leather seats, and now you were here.

You waited with dread until you could sense Harrison standing above you before you looked up at him, keeping your head firmly on his best mate’s shoulder.

“Are you okay, love?” He asked with genuine concern, all traces of anger from earlier gone.

“What does it look like?” you groaned. Harrison only chuckled.

In his defense, you were a pitiful sight. For one, your nose was crooked now under the ice pack, and you had dried blood all over your face and glittery silver dress. Your eyes were swollen and your makeup was smudged under your eyes from crying. You were a hot mess.

Haz turned to Tom. “I can’t believe you let her sit here for two hours without me!”

“Mate, she begged me not to call you.” Tom protested.

“For fucks sake I’m your best friend!”

“I’m right here, you know,” you interjected, hoping your words didn’t sound as slurred as they felt in your head.

“Alright, mate well you could at least pretend like you don’t enjoy having y/n all over you.” Harrison spat. “I can take it from here.”

Usually jealous Harrison turned you on, but here? Now? Did he have to do this at 2:30 am in the middle of the emergency room?

“You have got to be kidding me,” you sighed in exasperation but sat up anyway. “Tom was being a good friend.”

“Yeah, well he can go back to the party now. I’ve got it. And you can give him back his bloody jacket,” Haz added as he began to unzip his own hoodie for you.

Tom stood then looked over at you. “You’ll be okay?”

You nodded and handed him his blazer. “Yeah, thanks for being here, and for driving me. I owe you big time.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said then winked at you just to tease Harrison. “Call me if you need anything, either of you.”

You watched him go then slumped in your chair, cheeks burning. You felt Haz settle into the chair next to you and wrap his hoodie around your shoulders, but you couldn’t even bring yourself to look at him. You still felt so stupid.

“Do you need some more ice, love?” You shook your head. “Y/n, look at me. Talk to me.”

“I’m such an idiot,” you moaned, tears rolling down your cheeks despite your effort to hold them back.

“Let me see,” he urged.

Gingerly, you removed the ice pack from to show him the damage. When you had looked in the mirror earlier there had been a little bit of bruising on either side of your nose and some under your left eye. You suspected it had gotten worse by now.

“Oh, babe,” he gasped and brought his hands to the side of your face where he gently tilted your head to get a better look. “How’d this happen?”

“I broke my nose by running into a wall.”

“What?”

The memory was so humiliating you didn’t want to relive it yet, but you told Harrison anyway. “Laura’s house has a lot of stairs,” you sighed, earning a soft smile from Haz. “Basically, I was up in the loft because that’s where the booze was, but then Tom and Jacob wanted me to come play pool so I was following them downstairs, and tripped on the stairs and fell into the wall.”

Harrison coughed through a chuckle, trying to hide it.

“Stop!” you cried, but you were laughing too. “It was horrible! So many people saw, and there was blood on the wall-” your eyes widened in realization “I got blood on Laura’s wall, I need to call her! I need to apologize!” You turned your phone over to see several texts and missed calls from Harrison as well as a few from some of your friends at the party.

“You can call her tomorrow, love. Don’t worry about it right now.”

“God, I’m such an idiot,” you repeated leaning back, banging your head against the wall accidentally. Harrison winced. “Christ, this night keeps getting better.”

“Why didn’t you call me?”

You sighed, taking the ice off your nose for another moment. “I was embarrassed.”

“But you got Tom to take you to the hospital and not me?”

“Oh my god, I have a fucking broken nose and that’s what you’re caught up on?” You pulled away from Harrison’s grasp. “We’d been fighting, Haz. I thought that you were still mad at me. Tom was already at the party, he saw the whole thing happen and he offered to drive me.”

Harrison took a deep breath. “You’re right, y/n, I’m sorry. I’m just mad at myself that I wasn’t there for you.”

“It’s not your fault. How could you have known?”

“No, I mean the fact that I wasn’t at the party in the first place. It’s new year’s eve and I was a such a dick. I wasn’t even there for midnight.”

“You’re here now, and we can make it up later.” You leaned back into him and felt him relax underneath you.

Even though your nose still hurt like hell, you felt a thousand times better now that Harrison was here. You hadn’t realized how badly you’d wanted him to be there with you earlier, despite how embarrassed you were. The two of you lapsed into silence and turned your attention to the new year’s countdown on tv that was playing for a different timezone.

Suddenly, Harrison spoke up. “I think my new year’s resolution is to be less-”

“Jealous?”

“I was going to say intense, but same idea, yeah.” He squeezed your shoulder affectionately.

“Mine is to be less clumsy,” you decided.

“Oh we’ll see about that,” Harrison said with raised eyebrows.

“Fuck you.”

The countdown on the tv hit midnight and Harrison leaned over to kiss your lips softly, careful not to bump your nose. “Happy new year to you too, love.”

okay I swear I was like I need a picture of Haz where he looks super comfy for this (preferably wearing glasses bc fuck me) and like !!! he fucking posted that video!! lmao why do I always post my writing in the middle of the night?? Idk but i leave to go back to college tomorrow (or i guess today) and I!! Still!! Haven’t!! Packed!! Also, thank you @me-a-hopeless-romantic for giving me much needed info about broken noses lol

Forever Tags: @mischiefmanaged49 @bookingbee @cloverrover @perhaps-he-schnapped @awkwardfangirl2014 @the-queen-procrastinator @tastingthestarz

Send me an ask to be added/removed from a taglist

#teresas500wc #harrison osterfield #harrison osterfeild x reader #haz #haz osterfield #harrison osterfeild imagine #haz x reader #haz osterfield x reader #harrison x reader #harrison osterfield fanfiction

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writingwithadinosaur · 6 years

Text

“Thunderstruck” - Oneshot

My Masterlist - Here

My Tag List - Here

Tony Stark x Reader (Platonic)

Word Count: 1,419

Key: Y/N = Your Name, H/C = Your Hair Color, E/C = Your Eye Color

Warnings: Cursing, I think that’s all. Let me know if I missed anything!

Summary: You were recently taken in by the Avengers thanks to your ability to control electricity. But you weren’t able to spark friendly conversations with many people right off the bat.

Author’s Note: This was a random idea I had when I was out of town a few weeks ago, and I’m just now getting around to writing it! It was originally inspired by “Sweet Child of Mine” and then “Thunderstruck” came on when I was writing and it made me happy. Hope you enjoy it! <3

As always, huge shoutout to @witchymarvelspacecase for making my crazy ramblings more comprehensible and being a real person with me. <3

If you would like to be tagged in any of my future pieces, check out my tag list above and let me know! And as always, feedback is greatly appreciated!

- DreaSaurusREX

A block-wide blackout in the middle of autumn. You at the center of it

You were finally making progress You were brilliant, eased through school. You had plans for more doctorates and making advancements in technology or science or something. And you were on your way. You were currently working on an idea that, if it worked, could replace the need for multiple vaccines, and condense them all one simple, yearly vaccine.

But one small detail overlooked, and your lab partner being the clumsiest person to ever exist had ended with you being exposed to the chemical compound that you were testing.

Thankfully, there was an emergency disinfection chamber nearby that you were able to get to.

“Let just call it a night. We’ll start over tomorrow.”

“I really am sorry, (Y/N).”

“I know. Just… Come back tomorrow, prepared for a long day of focus, alright?”

She just nodded as you grabbed your bag and walked out of the lab, soaking wet, into the rain. You knew you should have brought a change of clothes like you usually did. But you were running late and ignored your routine. At this point, you just wanted to get home.

You were only a few streets away from your place. You vividly remember passing Mr. Polwiski’s Deli, then darkness.

The next thing you knew, you were on a stretcher in the back of an ambulance, pain scorching through your entire body. You could faintly hear the paramedic asking you if you knew what happened, or who you were, but you were too busy trying to focus your semi-blurry vision on your body. Your clothes were burned and torn in various places, you saw burn marks through the holes in your clothes, and you felt like you had been stung by a million bees.

Your already labored breathing became panicked when the gravity of the situation hit you, causing your brain to go into a frenzy. The internal pain kept growing, a strangled scream burst from your strained lungs.

“Ma’am! I need you to breathe! I know it's difficult, but you need to try to calm down!” The young paramedic tried to help, but it just made you more unsettled. It felt like fire was coursing through your muscles, unintentionally tensing them up. Your sobbing turned into screaming as blue sparks flew out of your hands, bouncing off the surfaces of various pieces of medical equipment, but avoiding the medical personnel on board.

The next thing you new, you felt the prick of a needle and the sweet embrace of sleep.

After that, your life was forever changed. The chemical compound that you were working on had absorbed through your skin and mutated your cells. It enhanced your body’s natural healing process by 65% as well as “blessed” you with the ability to manufacture and control electric currents. This quickly got the attention of a certain group of super people, and now you were attempting to not only adjust to your new living situation at the Avengers compound, but also your new life as a walking storm.

Being the new kid on the block was never easy. Now take that and add in Captain America, Iron Man, and all of the other Avengers, and you got a whole new kind of “not easy.” You couldn’t find it in yourself to talk to most of them. While they had shown you nothing but kindness and acceptance, you were still nervous about everything. The only one that had been able to get through to you was Bucky. He knew what it was like to be in your position, so he was the first one to really approach you as you were moving in.

The two of you would frequently be sitting together in your room, doing your own work, working on focus and control, or just watching movies. Bucky would sometimes make you move to other rooms so you got more acquainted with the facility and being around the others.

Today was one of those days.

You were working out an idea that you had stuck in your brain while Bucky was watching a movie that you had recommended him. He was just about to get to a good part of the movie when you heard the audio cut off.

“C’mon, (Y/N/N).”

“Where are we going?”

“I need food and you need a change of scenery.”

You learned that arguing with Bucky was useless. He would just throw you over his shoulder and make you move. So you just grabbed your stuff and followed him out of the room. You ended up in the kitchen, sitting at the table while Bucky fixed you both some lunch. He had just sat down to eat, when his phone went off.

“Ugh. Steve needs me to help him with a gameplan. I’ll catch you later, okay?”

“Alright. I think I’m gonna stay here. I have my stuff set up already.”

“Sounds good. You better actually eat.”

“I will. Go find your boyfriend.” You teased. Bucky threw you a look over his shoulder before disappearing.

You quickly realized how quiet it was since everyone was busy doing their work, or on a mission. Reaching for your phone, you hit the music app, and selected the playlist of songs that had been stuck in your head recently.

The sound of the guitar quickly took your mind off of everything expect the project you had been working on: a set of wrist braces that would help control the electrical impulses that your “gift” sent through your body. You had a decent handle on it, but these would act as a security blanket.

You got back to sketching out the details, and brainstorming what materials you could use. “Sweet Child of Mine” helping you ease your mind.

“Oh, oh, oh

Sweet child o' mine

Oh, oh, oh, oh

Sweet love of mine

She's got eyes of the bluest skies

As if they thought of rain

I hate to look into those eyes

And see an ounce of pain

Her hair reminds me of a warm safe place

Where as a child I'd hide

And pray for the thunder

And the rain

To quietly pass me by”

Two things slipped your notice during the verse of the song: You had quietly started to sing along, and Tony had walked in to get his umpteenth cup of coffee. The only reason you realized he was there at all was when he interrupted your train of thought, causing your pencil to scrape across the bottom of your workbook.

“How do you even know that song?” It took a second for you to respond, you weren’t really ready for interaction with anyone else tonight.

“Um… I grew up on this type of music. My sister was into it and forced me to listen.”

“Your sister sounds like someone I could get along with very--”

“She’s dead.”

“Oh… I’m sorry. I didn’t--”

“It’s fine.” You swallowed the lump in your throat and tried to refocus on your schematics. You heard Tony walk towards the table and lean over your shoulder. He picked up one of the various sheets of paper you had spread out.

“What’s this all about?” He seemed genuinely curious, which shocked you.

“Well… It’s an idea I had this morning. Thanks to me being a glorified lightning rod, I was trying to think of a way to protect myself, and others, from any outbursts.”

Tony scanned over the different styles and asked you to explain each one, wanting to hear your reasoning for keeping one element or changing something. You were nervous at first, but when he sat down next to you, and showed how invested he was in your thought process, you found it easier talking to him. After you explained the blueprint you were currently working on, Tony went silent, which made you uneasy.

“So.. Uh… Wha-what do you think, Mr.Stark?”

“First off, it’s Tony.” He flipped through the various papers until he found the one he was looking for. “Second, I think if you combine these two, you got a chance.”

“I’m- I don’t understand?”

“Keep drawing out ideas. I’m sure that brain of yours will come up with a few ways.” He patted your back before grabbing his coffee, leaving you feeling a bit overwhelmed. Before he could get far, Tony popped his head back in the kitchen.

“Come to the lab tomorrow at some point. Let’s see if we can get that doodle to dance.”

Tags - @melconnor2007 @ashenfallsof @geeksareunique @all-by-myself98 @goodnightwife @witchymarvelspacecase @theeactress @sebby-staan @feelmyroarrrr @tomorraw @marvelous-imagining @white-chocolate-mocha-fan @badassbaker @httpmcrvel @reading-in-moonlight @to-the-road

#tony stark x reader #tony x reader #father!tony stark x reader #dad!tony stark x reader #avengers fic #avengers fandom #avengers fanfiction #avengers imagine #fanfiction #fanfic #fanfictions #oneshot #imagine #imagines

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water-writings · 5 years

Text

11/11/11

I was tagged by @demidemonwrites and @ezwriting. Thanks you guys and sorry this took so long to write!

I know I will be breaking the rules to some extent, but I will be answering both their sets of 11 questions here. I don’t have exactly 11 people to tag, let alone 22 at the moment haha. Sorry!

Demidemonwrites’ questions!

1) Least favorite writing trope?

I’m going to be honest, I’m not entire sure. I’ve never thought of this before. I actually went through a couple forums where people are telling their least favorite tropes to see if anything struck with me. Honestly, I couldn’t find anything. Maybe I haven’t read a lot to know what I don’t like or if I’m just not that picky. I guess if things are written well I’ll be down with anything.

I guess if I had to pick one, it would have to be “the good guy is actually the villain” trope. With Frozen I remember when I first sat down in the theater and thinking “Haha what if Hans was the villain” and then BOOM I was right. There was some other movie I watched where I called one of the good guys being the villain, but I can’t remember what it was.

2) Which of your characters are underdeveloped but you want to develope more?

My current new character for My Hero Academia, Yuriko Umeda. She’s the first character since my Marvel character, Tracey Madison, that I’m super excited to work on and write for!

3) Do you prefer writing stories or worldbuilding?

I prefer writing stories. I’ve mostly written fanfiction and gone off of worlds from fandoms. But I have recently been practicing worldbuilding by attempting to add onto the already existing worlds. I have an original story in the works, but I haven’t touched it in nearly four years. It’s there, but I’m struggling with it. Maybe one day I’ll finally figure it out. But yes, I like writing stories more so than worldbuilding at the moment.

4) Where do you do most of your writing? (In bed, at a desk, ect...)

Literally anywhere. I write on my computer and on my phone on Google Docs so writing is portable for me. I do tend to write more on my bed or on a couch. I guess somewhere where I’m comfy.

5) If you have multiple ocs, what do you do to keep all their info organized?

Hahahaha I don’t. I’m pretty sure there have been times where I created a character in my head, came back to them months or even years later and forgot what their name was. I used to write a list of characters I created (even ones that I didn’t have stories for) back in high school, but now I don’t. I guess I just remember characters I really like. If I write for them I remember them of course, but if they are characters I have in my head and create a story for them then I tend to remember those characters. Although, I probably should start keeping them organized somehow.

6) Do you write your ideas down or are they mostly in your head?

Both. I tend to come up with ideas in my head (as everyone does haha) and when I have time I write them down on my notes section of my google doc for the story. But I also have ideas written down and in my head. Small ideas come to mind every now and then that I forget about that pop back up or they are minor details that I’ll write in as I write the story.

7) What is your character(s) favorite food?

Yuriko’s favorite food is omu rice.

Tracey’s is Hawaiin pizza.

Barry’s would be fried rice.

Aria’s is cookies.

Wes likes pretzels. Crunchy or soft he loves them.

Lyra’s is meatloaf.

I haven’t thought of Barry’s, Wes’, or Lyra’s before but those popped in my head. It might change, not sure haha.

There are probably other characters that I can’t think of at the moment or characters that I haven’t written for in forever that I just omitted from this list. These are my recent projects.

8) Out of all your character, which has the best story arc?

I guess Tracey? She’s the character who I actually write a complete story for instead of abandoning it. To this day I’m not sure how I did it, but I did. I have four stories completed in the series with her in it. The second one I liked, but looking back on it there’s some stuff I’d like to change in it. But I also think with that story I was able to develop her character more after that.

9) Do you prefer heroes, villains, or anti-heroes?

D. All of the above. I like characters who are well written. Even if its a villain I will like their character.

10) What character have you had the longest?

My longest character would be from my very first fanfic ever, but I don’t want people looking into that one hahaha! Out of my recent characters its definitely Tracey and Barry.

11) Favorite villian trope?

This was another thing that I’ve never thought about before and once again I looked into lists of villain tropes. I think I like bad just to be bad. One of my favorite villains is Joker and he’s evil just because. Another trope (if you count it as a trope or personality) is crazy. Harley Quinn, Junko Enoshima, and Himiko Toga are happy crazy and I don’t know why, but I love characters like that.

Ezwriting’s questions!

1. Do you listen to anything while you write? Music, television, white noise, etc.

I tend to have something on in the background, whether it’s music, TV, or YouTube. I just like to have background noise. I do like to use music to picture scenes for stories. There’s been times where I’m listening to a song randomly one day and I just picture a new scene that has that song playing as background music and I just add it to a story.

2. Can you describe your favorite character? Either yours or a beloved favorite from a book or any other media – I’d just love to hear about them.

Tracey and Barry are my MCU OCs. They are the Madison twins and they’ve been with me since I was a freshman in college. So about six years or so. That may have given away my age who knows lol.

Barry worked with SHIELD and was picked up right out of high school. Tracey didn’t know what he did until the Battle of New York where she basically interrogated him on his uniform. Tracey is a hacker. She majored in Computer Science (even though I know absolutely nothing about it) and she has been playing with computers since she was a kid. She had an interest in them.

Pepper was a friend of their mom’s so that’s how they met Tony and then the Avengers through Tony. Everything just falls into place or goes down hill from there!

I’ve worked so much on them that they have become my favorites. But at this point, I’m taking a hard hiatus on them and focusing on other characters.

3. When you write, do you have any particular requirements before you can start? (Have to be a specific somewhere, need music, etc.)

Nope! If I end up writing, I’m lucky. I have the worst attention span and lack of inspiration at times that the moment I sit down and try and write I end up watching the most random videos on YouTube or scroll through Tumblr. It’s bad haha.

4. Do you prefer to be hot or cool when writing? Do you snuggle up with blankets or have fans running, or are you somewhere in - between?

I’m in between. It depends on the day. Like right now I’m fine sitting on my couch in some comfy shorts and a shirt and write. But some times my legs might get cold and I’ll lay a blanket on them. But that’s usually if it’s cold out. I’m in between.

5. What kind of writing ‘quirks’ do you have?

None. I literally sit and write. I usually have background noises I mentioned in the first question (sometimes, very rarely, will I write in silence). I might have a cup of tea or a snack, but other than those I don’t think I have any writing quirks.

6. What is your favorite book or book series?

Harry Potter, Peter and the Star Catchers, and The Truth About Forever.

7. Is there anyone who inspires your writing?

@pen-in-hand @apocalyvse They’re writing is amazing!!

8. What first got you started in writing?

I honestly can’t even remember. I think it was this anime that’s my favorite called D Gray Man. A friend got me into it late 8th grade early freshman year of high school and I loved it. I was also a major major dork back then (probably still am but not as much) and had a crush on one of the characters that I wanted to create my own to add into the story. I think one of my friends told me about ff.net and I picked up a notebook and pen and started writing.

I do remember a couple times in elementary school where I had to write short stories. One I think I still have in my junk somewhere that was about a dog wanting to be a sled dog and the other was I had to write how the Oregon Trail was made. That one I don’t have, but I think I remember I wrote about how a girl ran into a goblin in a forest and had some competition with him over something. She ended up using this basket she had and used it to create the trail.

Elementary school Mel was wild. I don’t even know how I remember that Oregon Trail one. Star Kid pick up my story and make a prequel to Trail to Oregon.

9. What would you suggest to new writers?

Just write. Even if you think it’s bad, just write and post it. Someone is going to love it. You are also your worst critic. I look back at my first fanfic and CRINGE when I think about it. But I have reviews on it. I also look back on it and realize that I have improved so much since then. You improve as you write and you can only go up. If you enjoy it, keep writing.

10. Do you prefer to write first, second or third person?

Third person for sure!

11. How do deadlines affect your writing? Do they hinder or help you?

I don’t set deadlines for myself. Unless I’m writing something for a holiday or as a present to someone. I don’t do deadlines, but I think it would either help or hinder me. It would help me sit down and write, but I also think - knowing me - that I’d procrastinate and then rush to meet the deadline. Rushing would then result in my worst work I think. Maybe. But I just don’t do deadlines. I post when I want to.

My questions

1. Do you write fanfictions or original stories and did you ever write fanfiction?

2. Did you ever write your stories in the middle of class instead of paying attention?

3. How many notebooks do you have filled with your writing?

4. What’s your favorite way to write? Notebook, Word Doc, Google Docs?

5. Do you write by yourself or do you need people writing with you?

6. Have you ever cowritten with someone?

7. Who do you bounce ideas off of?

8. Have you ever taken an experience from your life and written it into a story?

9. Favorite type of music to listen to while you write.

10. Have you ever had anyone give you “advice” that hurt you and prevented you from writing for a while?

11. Have you ever had fans of your writing pester to write a certain way?

I tag @pen-in-hand @apocalyvse @starsandstormyseas @loopally @morganwriteblr @writing-and-nutmeg @luciandra-writing @nightwingshero @scouthearted @invernessie41 @odpadkywriter @alalawrites

I did 12 instead of 11 since I had two sets of questions haha!

#ask me things #tag game #mel writes #writeblr #my ocs #my stories #wow this was a long post but a lot of fun!!

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brazenbells · 5 years

Text

stretched on your grave

Happy birthday to my dearest @imindhowwelayinjune!

I wasn’t sure what to do this year for your annual dose of brotherfuckers, but then I stole an idea from @hylianthvs (SORRY I TAGGED THE WRONG PERSON WHEN I POSTED, OMG I’M SO SORRY IT WAS 4 AM MY BRAIN WASN’T WORKING) and decided to make some OCs in the Kingdom of Rust sandbox.

These OCs....may seem somewhat familiar.

(Also, please enjoy the titular song, which is eerie and terrific, as a sort of unofficial soundtrack)

Warnings for implied incest and implied dubcon/noncon. Everything’s offscreen though.

His half-brother was a complete bastard.

Oh, not in the literal sense, that was Taidgh himself—but in the common usage, yes. Indisputably.

Nothing stuck to him. His hands were, somehow, always clean—not the glamoured sort of clean either—and yet he advanced. In the cutthroat, smile-at-your-front-and-knife-at-your-back court, where ‘friends’ was a polite word for people low on your hit list, people genuinely liked him. What was that about? And it was a mystery how he found himself in their company to begin with. How did he get his title, how did he keep it? He could have killed their father at the height of his power, but instead he waited till the man was laid low, unable to conceal the pain anymore. A mercy killing. Who fucking did that?

Who did that and didn’t immediately get overtaken by a stronger adversary?

Fucking Gale, that’s who. He always came out ahead.

Taidgh had a little extra salt about that mercy killing, anyway. It was his kill to make. He’d struck the penultimate blow, the wound that wouldn’t put their father in the grave directly but finally made him weak enough to show pain. It had cost him dearly; he’d had to lay low for a month waiting to die or get stronger, and when he’d finally pulled himself together, his fucking brother had already put the man out of his fucking misery.

He wound through the dark garden, careful of the thorns (there were always thorns, in the gardens of Faerie). Gale would be here somewhere, and now Taidhg was ready for him.

In the distance, music welled up right at the edge of Taidgh’s hearing. Mysterious, directionless snatches of music weren’t unusual in Faerie, of course, but this wasn’t the usual haunting melody of not-quite-definable instruments. This was a soft, soaring baritone, with a distinct location; as Taidgh wove nearer through the hungry brambles, it resolved into a dark Irish ballad, because of course it did.

We’re not Irish, you pretentious fucker. Taidgh could overlook the hypocrisy inherent in thinking that, given what he called himself—because spelling it Tig and hearing people pronounce it with a short i was not to be borne.

“My apple tree, my brightness, it's time we were together…”

At least the singing made him easy to find. And, likely, masked any slight sound made by Taidgh’s approach.

“For I smell of the earth, and am worn by the weather…” Gale did smell of the earth, that was true enough. Not the damp graveyard soil of the song, though: dry, sunbaked earth, and nothing else. That made him stand out too, in the court, where everyone was masking something. It should have been suspicious. It was suspicious, to Taidgh, even if no one else seemed to catch it.

It didn’t matter. He’d killed their father, however pitifully, and now Taidgh would kill him; it was the way of things, the cycle proceeding as intended. The title would pass, justice would be done, and he would have all the power that was his due. It wasn’t the first time a usurpation had been short-lived.

Gale’s voice threaded through the hedges like a ribbon in a maze; Taidgh had only to reel it in, following its brightness through the moonless night.

There was a brazier burning in the clearing where the voice led to at last. Gale was facing away when Taidgh came upon him, the fire at his back; he wore a loose shirt of some gossamer nonsense that did nothing to obscure the fine musculature of his shoulders or the warm brown of his skin. The flame gilded his curls, tumbling loose to a little below his collar. He was sculpted very finely, even Taidgh had to admit; why had he never noticed it before? Maybe he should—he wanted—

He could swear he didn’t make a sound when he stepped into the clearing, but Gale broke off singing and turned, his face lighting in a smile that was far too genuine for someone in his position. “Tiger.”

Taidgh mentally shook himself—what nonsense had he been thinking? They were half-brothers, which was bad enough, and enemies, which was worse. You didn’t fuck with people you sought to eliminate; it was a good way to put all your vulnerabilities on display. Admiring (he didn’t even let himself think the word desiring) Gale would be positively unacceptable.

Not that he did—it had only been a strange passing thought. Maybe he wasn’t quite as recovered as he’d believed. Never mind, though. He was still hale enough to put a knife in his brother.

“Lord Nightingale.” He gave him the title, to keep his guard down.

“You heard the news, then.” Gale’s smile dimmed.

“I came to congratulate you,” Taidgh offered, and Gale’s expression shuttered completely. Pathetic. Soft hearts have no place in court.

“I wish you wouldn’t,” he said, and turned again, taking a few steps away from the glow of the brazier, staring moodily off into the darkness. It was inconceivable that he had survived this long. Who would turn their back on Taidgh in such circumstances, alone in a dark garden?

Taidgh took a silent step forward.

“I let him suffer as long as I could,” Gale said, and Taidgh stopped, confused. It was a strange sentence to hear in Gale’s voice; like his namesake, it was a sweet voice, cutting through the darkness with no darkness of its own. “I know it wasn’t enough, but you know I couldn’t leave him that way for anyone to see. I promise, I made it as terrible as I could.”

Taidgh didn’t know how to answer that. He also didn’t know why his arms were prickling, the hairs standing up; if anyone could startle him with brutality, it certainly wouldn’t be his brother.

Gale glanced briefly over his shoulder. “I’m sorry you weren’t here for it. I couldn’t find you, so I assumed you’d come to me when you were ready. We have a lot of work to do, you know.” He turned back to gaze into the night again. “Our name isn’t what it once was, and he let too many greedy hands take from what should have been our holdings. That will take time to build back up.”

Taidgh shouldn’t have lingered, but he couldn’t help the itch of surprise and curiosity. “We?”

“I need a lieutenant, of course. Name your terms. I assure you I can meet them.”

Maybe Gale wasn’t quite as much of a fool as he seemed. That might have neutralized a weaker challenger, forced teaming and the offer of reward without the risk of an open fight. It didn’t matter; there were no terms Taidgh would take.

“You want me at your side?” He let the slightest bit of reprimand slide into his tone; do you know you’re clutching the asp to your breast?

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Gale was impervious to the warning.

Taidgh didn’t have to be fair, but no one could claim he hadn’t been, even so. A flick of his wrist put his knife in his hand; he crossed the clearing to join his brother, opening the arm as if to embrace him.

Gale did not turn when he drew nearer. He seemed to have forgotten Taidgh was there at all; his voice raised again in song, a golden thread against the night.

“Do you remember the night we were lost? In the shade of the blackthorn and the touch of the frost…”

Taidgh hesitated.

Maybe—maybe this was a mistake. Was it really so unappealing, being Gale’s lieutenant? Especially when he could name the terms—assuming that was true. He could demand the manor. He could demand the right to come and go between Faerie and the mortal world as he pleased—he certainly hadn’t had that under their father’s command. He could demand all the resources at their disposal, for whatever pet project he might want to tackle.

He could demand—

“The priest and the friars they approach me in dread, for I love you still, oh, my life, and you're dead…”

Taidgh lowered the knife. He had come around halfway now, could see his brother in profile; even silhouetted in shadow, Gale was striking, the shape of his lips as he sang stirring something that shouldn’t be stirred.

“I still would be your shelter, through rain and through storm. And with you in your cold grave I cannot sleep warm…”

He could demand anything.

Yes, there were terms he would accept. He opened his mouth to say so; he tossed his knife away, somewhere in the hedges, who-cared-where. Gale was watching him now, still singing, still singing; then he realized he didn’t need to demand anything, because what more did Taidgh really desire than to please his brother?

The curve of Gale’s smile said that he understood; of course he did, because he was clever as well as fair. Taidgh came the rest of the way around, standing before him now.

“I am stretched on your grave and I’ll lie here forever. If your hands were in mine, I'd be sure they would not sever…”

Gale lay a hand on his shoulder, pushing him gently down to his knees. Taidgh went, with gladness; seeking to please, he leaned forward to nuzzle his face against the front of Gale’s trousers. Gale laughed softly and caught him by the braids, tugging him back. “Time enough for that later. I told you, we have a lot of work to do, first.”

“Command me,” Taidgh begged, and couldn’t make sense of the part of him that recoiled to hear the words. Why shouldn’t he say them? He was Lord Nightingale’s lieutenant.

What greater joy could there be?

But he had not pleased Gale either, it seemed; he sighed, looking almost regretful, and passed a hand over Taidgh’s braids like a benediction. “I did offer you the choice,” he said at last, shaking his head.

Maybe that was why he was unhappy. He had told Taidgh to name his terms, and Taidgh had not named any. He could do that, though, easily. “You. I want you.”

“I know,” Gale said, with exasperated fondness. “Maybe someday you will in truth. Or maybe,” he cupped Taidgh’s cheek, “you will go to your grave first.”

Taidgh would dig it himself, should it please his lord.

“For now, get up.” Gale put out his hands and Taidgh took them, letting himself be pulled to his feet; Gale took a half-step backwards just as Taidgh came to his feet, setting him off balance so that he had to catch himself against Gale’s chest. They lingered like that a moment, faces close, Gale’s gaze fixed on Taidgh’s mouth; but by the time Taidgh realized he should offer himself up again, Gale set him right and stepped back. “Later,” he said again, more to himself than to Taidgh.

He left Taidgh’s knife where it had fallen; made a short gesture to quench the brazier, and put them in darkness.

They didn’t need light, though. Gale knew the path blind, and went along it singing; Taidgh followed behind, leashed by the golden thread of the Nightingale’s song.

#my fic #incest tw #tiger prince #or at least #KoR/Tiger Prince crossover AU fic #the darkest timeline i guess #don't tell me it's pronounced 'teague'#the internet says 't-eye-g' is a valid pronunciation and i'm fucking relying on that #taidgh as in tiger prince okay #just go with it

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nervousgaylaughter · 5 years

Text

how'd we end up on a road we never took (chapter 1)

a kate and eva fake dating au

read on ao3

Kate is sick of her life. She’s sick of her homophobic parents. She’s sick of all the fake people at school. And she’s sick of Cairo and all her questions. It’s one thing to go to school and be interrogated about dating her best friend to go home and be lectured how she’s just in a phase. The duality of her two worlds is too much for her to handle, she knows it would all go away if she could just get a girlfriend. But her angry demeanor and unapproachable disposition has ruined her chances.

She can count all the girls she’s been able to deal with enough to actually like on one hand.

There was Bridget, her first real crush last year, who lead Kate on, but unlike Kate, was actually in love with her best friend Emma and started dating her, leaving Kate somewhat heartbroken. There were two good things that came from Bridget though: her gay awakening and her best friend Chess. Two unrelated things, but both important nonetheless.

There was Mallory from English who was so straight that it actually caused Kate to stop crushing on her. She was attracted to Mallory’s intelligence, she always had the best analysis for whatever they were reading, but ultimately dropped the idea when Mallory started dating the heartthrob of the school.

And there was Samantha, the bubbly girl she met at a week-long art exposition, who lived on the other side of the country. The girl felt like a breath of fresh air to Kate after being stuck in the same town for all of her life. She had a crush for a week, and then she left for home.

That’s it.

It’s not that Kate doesn’t find more than three girls attractive, it’s just that their personality is the overwhelmingly important factor for her. She feels like she’s already met everyone she’s gonna meet. The kids at Giles Corey High School have been in school together practically since Kindergarten. By the time she’s a junior in high school she accepts she’s never going to like any Tiger enough to date her.

Kate is getting dinner with Chess as she laments over her situation.

“There is a very good chance that all aspects of my life will improve if I had a girlfriend.”

“How do you figure that, Kate?” Chess asks with an amused grin.

“One, I’d have a girlfriend.” Kate says as if it were obvious, making Chess chuckle.

“Two, Cairo would stop insinuating that we’re dating.”

“Don’t let her get to you Kate, it’s not her fault she’s projecting onto you.”

“You know actually I think all our lives would improve if Cairo would finally admit she’s in love with Riley. She needs to get over the repressed lesbian bullshit already it’s been literally eight years.”

Next to them, one of the busgirls laughs at the anecdote as she’s cleaning one if the tables. Kate gives her some serious side-eye for eavesdropping.

Trying to get her friend to alleviate her death stare, Chess asks, “Are there any more points to your list?”

“Ah yes,” Kate perks up as the idea comes back to her mind, “Three, my parents would stop trying to tell me being gay is just a phase.”

Chess gives her friend the pity face to which Kate just rolls her eyes. Their conversation is interrupted by the waitress coming over.

“What can I get for you girls?” Kate and Chess come to Toni's Pizza after practice every Thursday so the waiter should be very familiar with the pair by now, but they go through this routine every time.

“We’ll have a large Hawaiian pizza with two root beers please,” Chess says with a smile. Kate thinks that pineapple on pizza is absolutely atrocious, but she told Bridget she liked it because it’s Bridget’s favorite and Kate was a useless baby gay. Bridget and Emma ordered it when they first introduced Chess to Kate and it’s far too late to correct herself now.

“Oh…” is all the waiter says as he goes to put in their order, clearly judging their order as he does every week. Same buddy, same, is all Kate thinks but instead she leans in towards Chess and says, “He acts like we haven’t ordered the same exact thing every Thursday for the past year.”

“Leave him alone Kate, it’s not his job to memorize the regulars’ orders.”

“It’d save a lot of time though.” The waiter returns with their root beers in bottles, and as much as Kate would never admit it, she likes her pop best like that. It makes her feel like an adult even though she’s too scared to drink alcohol. She takes a few sips and starts to blow into the bottle. She manages to get a steady sound out of it and starts playing a random rhythm.

“Do you have to do this every time?” Chess says to her friend staring her down as she continues to blow into the bottle.

“Obviously,” Kate says, but stops her incessant root beer music.

Just as Kate is about to continue telling her single life sorrows to Chess, the busgirl comes over.

“So I couldn’t help but overhear your story-“

“Yeah I noticed,” Kate says with a glare. The girl hesitates for a moment but continues, “Um, I think I have a solution.”

Kate really doesn’t want the unsolicited advice of a stranger, but she’s so desperate that she figures she could at least hear her out.

“So, my friend Eva, she’s a delivery girl, just broke up with her girlfriend and needs to save face at Homecoming so you two could totally just go together to get everyone off your back,” the busgirl looks extremely proud of her plan, and if she’s being perfectly honest, Kate’s not completely opposed to it.

Kate did recognize the name Eva though, since her family often ordered delivery from Toni's Kate would get their pizza (without pineapples) from the girl with the rainbow button on her jacket. Kate did notice that the girl was really attractive, and hoped the button meant more than just a rainbow, but wouldn’t let herself think about a complete stranger like that.

Friends all leave you eventually, Bridget did, so the less friends you have and the more people you distance yourself from the better.

Kate realizes that she’s been sitting thinking in silence for a little bit too long.

“Just until Homecoming?”

“Yeah. By then both if you will have made your point, ooh hang on gimme a sec,” the girl runs off and quickly returns with a piece of paper. “Write down your number. I’ll call her after she gets out of cheer practice and explain everything to her.”

“Eva is a cheerleader too?” Chess asks genuinely as Kate scribbles down her phone number.

“Mhm she’s the highest ranked flyer in the state. Are you guys cheerleaders?” Kate resists the urge to sarcastically grab the draw string bags that both her and Chess have on their chairs that say “Tigers Cheerleading” and lets Chess respond.

“Yup we go to Giles Corey.”

“Oh sorry,” the girl says, “I didn’t mean it like that it's just we go to West High and well, you know your team is kinda ass but I’ve seen you guys cheer and you’re good.” Kate may already know that they’re the worst team ever, but only she’s allowed to trash the Tigers.

“Great thanks for the idea,” Kate abruptly hands the paper to the girl, “bye,” she says with a little, somewhat patronizing, shooing motion.

Though the busgirl might already annoy the shit out of Kate, she wonders what Eva is like. If she goes through with this insane plan with someone she just barely knows what will she feel like by the end? What if Eva grows on me, Kate wonders but stops herself. She won’t let it get that far. They can pretend to be dating but she doesn’t need another friendship outside of that. If Eva somehow agrees to her friend’s plan, Kate won’t let them get close because that’s just how you get hurt.

“Earth to Kate… hello?” Chess waves her hand in front of Kate’s face. “Oh my God you’re actually considering this aren’t you?” Chess says.

“I mean-” Chess cuts her off with an amused laugh, “At first I thought 'Kate would never do something like this', but now I’m seeing how gay and desperate you are.”

“Think about it Chess, it’d be so nice for Cairo to stop teasing us all practice for once.”

“I tune her out, don’t you?”

“How can I she’s so incessantly loud. Also my parents would finally get off my back if they thought I was dating someone.”

“Do they still say you can’t be gay because you’ve never been in any relationship?”

“Yeah,” Kate says sadly as she puts her arms and head down on the table.

“That’s a big oof buddy.”

“I know. I’m just going wait and see if Eva even texts me before I do or say anything.”

Chess nods as the waiter brings their pizza. The rest of the dinner goes by relatively quickly, except for when Kate has to resist gagging to swallow the pineapple, and soon enough Chess is dropping off Kate at her house.

“You know you’re gonna have to get your license someday. I’m not gonna be here to drive you around forever,” Chess says to the shorter girl.

“Why would you remind me of that?” Kate says as she gets out of the car.

“Sorry bud, I don’t wanna leave you either but we have to accept that I’m going to college at some point,” Chess says through her window.

“I don’t have to accept it if I don’t think about it.”

“Hey look at me,” Kate was staring at the ground, but slowly looks up to Chess, “You’re my best friend. We’re always gonna be us no matter what, ok?” Chess holds out her arm with her half of their matching bracelets. Kate puts her own arm on top of Chess's so their bracelets align as they smile at each other and Kate backs away from the car.

"I'll see you tomorrow," Chess says as she pulls out of the driveway.

Kate just nods as she makes her way to her front door. She know no matter what Chess thinks right now, the truth is that they’ll grow apart. It happened when her oldest sister got married, when her older brother got a job overseas, and when Bridget went away to school. Why would this time be any different?

Kate forgets about her Eva situation as she gets ready for bed and attempts to read her book, but is too preoccupied mourning the loss of Chess even though it hasn’t happened yet. That is until she’s lying in the darkness and her phone lights up.