#apparently lukas's hair smells nice

[ivormybeloved]

(Not Delusion AU, apologies)

Doodles of characters from a Minecraft roleplay me and a friend have

I'm testing out new styles so yippee!! But have emo Lukas and silly zombie PAMA (they're my main two characters for the story. Mainly Lukas since it started with a frickin crackship)

Oh and Ivor. Can't forget how he was apparently turned into a horse cuz he insulted a witch on how bad they are with potions

I will not elaborate any more on this weird, love triangle Minecraft roleplay. PS, these are not the only characters. These are just my characters (except for yellow suspenders Jesse and cursed Axel. No one likes cursed Axel.)

[rainbowbarnacle]

There, finally got some nice hair photos in the sun.

Luka did SUCH A GOOD JOB. :D Also apparently this stuff makes me smell like gummy worms. Bonus!

[quickspinner]

Oops - Part 1

Part 1 | Part 2 | AO3

Summary: A little too much alcohol, a drunken hookup, it happens all the time, right? Marinette didn't mean to drink so much, and she didn't mean to wake up in a stranger's bed, but she did, and now this morning isn't going at all the way she expected. When Luka asks to see her again, she can't think of a good reason to say no...and the one night she never meant to have turns out to be the beginning of something she never could have anticipated.

Alya thinks its hysterical--only Marinette could take home a one night stand and end up with a date. But when the one night stand turns into a series of hookups, Alya's starting to get concerned. Clearly it's up to her to rein Marinette in before the girl gets seriously hurt.

Rating: M - this is a little spicier than my usual fare but not really explicit? There’s a lot of off screen sex and reference to sexy things and adult activities, some drinking (obviously), cursing/foul language. 

Credit to my tumblr followers for this one, because one day I went "hey, you guys want to see some bits from the folder of fics I'm never going to finish?" and one of the bits I posted was the beginning of this story, and people liked it more than I was expecting, and then it was "well, you know, I did think about doing blahblah" and "I'd sure love to see that!" and the next thing you know I've added five thousand words with no sign of stopping. In Marinette’s words: Oops. So, with much love to my followers and readers across platforms, here's the fic I never intended to finish, and I hope you enjoy it!

I'm splitting it into two chapters but they'll both be uploaded within a few minutes, so if you finish the first part and the second one isn't posted yet, just wait a little and try back. Also, much love to @livrever for talking me down off the ledge and beta reading this one. 

Marinette woke up with a mouth that felt like cotton and a pounding headache. She groaned, and pressed her face into the pillow. It...smelled funny. Not bad, just...not like home. 

Oh. Because she hadn’t gone home last night. At least, not to her home. 

“Are you shitting me right now?” 

Marinette jumped, and sat up, clutching the sheets to her still-naked body. Her head reeled and she whimpered as she pressed the heel of her hand to her forehead. The door to the bedroom was cracked and she could see a sliver of light beyond it that blinked in and out. It seemed her...friend, was pacing in the other room, and from the sound of it, he wasn’t very happy. 

“—crosses a line, Jean. What? No, that’s not the point, Jean, you got me hammered without my consent! How can you not see the problem here? No, you know what, my head is killing me and I’m sick of yelling at you, obviously this can’t be fixed. As of right now, we are no longer friends. Don’t call me, don’t talk to me, if you see me coming just walk the other way. I’m done with you.”

There was a thump and a sigh and an emphatic “Fuck.”  

Marinette just sat there, holding the sheet over her chest, and blinked, trying to figure out what she should do and think through the fog in her brain. She didn’t exactly have a whole lot of experience in these situations. Was she supposed to just…

Before she could form any ideas, he came in with a glass of water and a bottle of painkillers. He had a pair of tattered but well-fitting jeans on with patterned boxers peeking out from the waistband, but no shirt, and there was a lot of muscle and bare skin on display and oh God he had sex hair, and it was her hands that had done it. Marinette swallowed and twisted her fingers tighter in the sheets, suddenly feeling a bit lightheaded.

“Hi,” he said gently. “I’m Luka, in case you don’t remember. Sorry if I woke you. How are you feeling? I mean, hung over, obviously, but on a scale of just let me die to I might conceivably want to live to tomorrow …” He gave her a smile that perhaps wasn’t entirely confident, and Marinette couldn’t help a small smile back. 

“I think I’m not quite up to dancing to the metal band playing in my head, but pretty far from oh God where’s the bathroom, so I’ll take it, all things considered.” She took the glass of water he offered and he opened the aspirin bottle and shook a couple out into her palm. That was sweet, she thought. At least he wasn’t just tossing her clothes at her and kicking her out. How could she have let herself end up in a position like this?

Luka sat on the edge of the bed and watched her take the pills. “Man, you’re really gorgeous. I thought at least some of it would be the booze, but—“ He looked away, clearing his throat. “Lucky me.”

Marinette’s face burned. “Thanks,” she said softly, not sure what else to say. At least he was nice, she thought. At least she hadn’t slept with a jerk. And he’d certainly been...considerate. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t enjoyed herself, just...

“How much do you remember about last night?” he asked. His voice was rough, but he kept it soft. “I’m sorry for asking but I was way more drunk last night than I ever let myself get and I don’t think I blacked out but some things are...spotty.”

“Most of it, I think,” Marinette flashed him an embarrassed smile. “The good parts for sure. The details and...transitions, I guess, are a little hazy. I don’t remember how we got here from the club, for example.”

“But you remember being here, with me.” His eyes fell to her neck and shoulders and he winced. “Man I really marked you up, I’m sorry. I hope that’s not going to get you in trouble.” His eyes widened slightly. “Please tell me you aren’t married.”

“No,” she yelped. “No, I’m not married. Totally single.” She put her face in her hand. “Absolutely, devastatingly, recently single.” 

Luka let out a sigh of relief and gave her a sympathetic smile. “Bad breakup?”

She sighed. “Very. Bad breakup, bad best friend applying bad breakup logic that lands me my very first one night stand. Yay me.”

“Um, I’m honored?” Luka grinned sheepishly. “Although, I mean...it doesn’t have to be. Just the one night, I mean. Not that—” He cleared his throat and looked away. “Even as drunk as I was, I know I had a lot of fun last night.” He rubbed his hand through his hair. “And even before I got too drunk to function I wanted to get your number.” He rolled his eyes. “Apparently one of my so-called friends decided I needed a little extra liquid courage.” 

“I wish I had an excuse,” Marinette muttered, shoulders curling inward. “I just...didn’t want to be sad anymore.” She frowned as what he’d said and the conversation she’d overheard connected in her brain. “Are you...okay?”

“I’m pissed off,” Luka huffed, and then smiled again. “But I’m fine. I didn’t do— much I wouldn’t have done anyway. Just, not necessarily in that order, or that soon. As long as you’re okay, I’m okay.” He put a hand on her shoulder. “Are you okay?”

“I’m...not sure,” Marinette sighed, adjusting her grip on the sheet she held to her chest. “I don’t know how I feel. I definitely did some things I wouldn’t have done sober. You, specifically,” she joked weakly. “Not that you aren’t—not that I didn’t—“

“I get it,” he chuckled. 

“But...I’m on birth control, and…” she turned and craned her neck to look at the spilled box and empty wrappers on the nightstand. “We used protection, and…” she looked at Luka, worrying her lip. 

“I’m clean,” he supplied.

“Me too,” she whispered, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “And you’re hot and you seem nice and it’s not like it didn’t feel good, and I definitely wasn’t sad for a while, so…” She shrugged. “I’m a little embarrassed but...I think I’m okay too.”

“Well, no need to be embarrassed with me,” Luka grinned. “I’m definitely not judging.” 

They sat smiling at each other for a moment, and then Luka seemed to remember something, because he winced. “Umm...about your dress,” he coughed. “I am so, so sorry but it seems drunk me was kinda impatient and your dress is in pieces on my living room floor.” 

Marinette just blinked at him for a moment...and then she started to laugh. Luka grinned, and then started to chuckle along with her. She laughed harder and grabbed her head. “Ow, ow, oh my God.” Without thinking she leaned forward to drop her head on Luka’s shoulder. 

He stiffened up for a second, but then relaxed, and one of his hands slipped into her hair. His fingers began to rub in small circles. 

“Mmm, that’s good,” she sighed, and felt Luka’s chuckle.

“Well that sounds familiar,” he said, his voice going a little deeper. Marinette shivered. She felt him swallow, and his face dipped slightly towards her. “I like your perfume,” he said, and had to clear his throat again. Marinette’s face warmed.

“Thank you,” she said quietly. His fingers continued to rub her aching head, and the pain actually seemed to be receding a bit, though whether from the massage or the painkillers he’d given her, she wasn’t sure.

She should sit up. He was a stranger, after all, and just because they’d—she wasn’t exactly experienced at this kind of thing but this wasn’t really fitting in with what she imagined a morning after to be like. She probably looked weird, leaning on him like...like they were a couple or something, and—

Luka’s hands shifted and began to comb gently, slowly through her hair, and Marinette let out a small moan. She felt his breath hitch and bit her lip, embarrassed. “Sorry,” she whispered.

“What for?” he asked, but there was a rough edge to his voice that—she was being silly though, he’d performed last night, and then they’d done all that drinking, and...and those other things, and it was no wonder if his voice was—

That voice was doing things to her, though, and reminding her of—things, and this time it was her breath that caught as the fingers that had been moving through her hair kept going down this time, sliding along her spine, raising goosebumps and reminding her that she was still very much naked. 

“Do you, um,” Luka began, in the exact same deep tones that had made her leave the club with him last night. “Do you have anywhere you need to be right now?” 

His fingers stilled, resting at the small of her back, and Marinette couldn’t see his face since hers was still buried in his shoulder. It was hard to think when he was so warm, and her nose was brushing his collarbone, and she’d hardly have to move to press her lips against his smooth skin. 

She barely knew him. But...well...that hadn’t stopped her last night, so...

Marinette took a deep breath, and lifted her head, sitting back slightly to look at him. His breathing was steady as he looked back at her, almost too steady, but his eyes were dark. 

“No,” she managed, barely above a whisper. 

Luka’s hands moved up her back to trail up and down her arms. “Then, do you want to stay for a while longer?” They were swaying towards each other. “Maybe…” They were kissing before he could finish the thought. Marinette put her arms around his neck automatically, but as his arms went around her, pulling her closer, she dropped her hands back down again to rub over his broad, firm shoulders. 

“Again?” he managed to get out between the fevered kisses, and Marinette made an affirmative noise, but he didn’t move until she broke away long enough to gasp, “Yes.” 

He was pulling away the sheet between them even as he wrapped one arm around her and dragged her more fully onto the bed, settling her below him with surprising gentleness. Okay, that was hot, Marinette decided, burying her fingers in his already-messy hair as he began retracing the path he’d marked along her neck last night. Last night had been a really, really stupid decision, but this? As he pulled back to look at her, eyes clear and sharp instead of the hazy, unfocused gaze he’d had the night before, and brushed her hair tenderly back from her face before kissing her again, softly, and then deeply, Marinette began to feel that this morning was by far the best decision she’d made in a long time. 

***

He should get up, Luka thought hazily, listening to his shower running. He should at least put his boxers back on or something. Change the sheets. Make some coffee. Something.

Instead he lay there, limp and relaxed, listening to the shower, and trying to hold on to this feeling of languid contentment.

God, he felt so good. Marinette was an amazing partner, sweet and so responsive, practically melting under his touch, firm and toned but soft in all the right places, and her little gasps and hums drove him crazy. She was bolder than he expected, an amazing kisser even drunk off her ass last night, and her mouth was so pretty and soft, and this morning...his body hummed with echoes of pleasure as he thought about it. 

He rolled over, hugging his pillow, and grinned. He could still smell her perfume. That scent was engraved in his mind; it was one of the things that was clearest to him from the jumbled mix of memories of the night before. Luka remembered dancing with Marinette, dropping his head to hear something she was saying, and inhaling that scent, vivid despite the riot of smells that permeated the dance floor. He remembered being surrounded by it in the blur that was the cab ride home. He remembered gasping it in on the living room floor...did they fall? He thought he remembered one of them tripping over the doorstep. Even just now, with all his senses full of her, he had found traces of it on her skin, at her jaw and right behind her ear. 

Luka shivered, buried his face in the pillow, and breathed deep. 

He’d played a killer set last night, he’d gone home with a beautiful woman who was great in bed, had somehow managed not to humiliate himself despite his spiked drinks, and he had nowhere to be today. This morning would be perfect if he wasn’t dead certain that Marinette was going to leave and he would never see her again. 

He really wanted to see her again. 

Which was why he hadn’t wanted things to happen this way, damn it. He sighed, this time burying his face in the pillow to muffle his groan. He was supposed to flirt with her, get her number, ask her out, think with his brain and not his—hormones. 

He was still going to kill his so-called friend. There was no justifying what Jean had done. If Victor had been working it never would have happened, but he’d called out for the night and apparently whoever had replaced him had been more than happy to make sure Luka’s drinks were stronger than advertised.

Bastards, both of them. 

Even if it hadn’t turned out too badly. 

Rock Giant blared out from his nightstand, and Luka flopped on his back and grabbed for his phone, forcing his eyes open as he answered it. “Hello?” he grumbled. 

Silence. Luka frowned, and opened his mouth, but the person on the other end finally said, “I’m looking for Marinette.” 

What? Luka frowned, and then pulled the phone away from his ear and looked at it. It was pink. 

Right. Because he’d found Marinette’s dead phone on the floor this morning when he got up, and he’d picked it up and set it in his charger, while he took his own to the living room to call and yell at Jean. Then he’d hurled his phone into the couch and left it there.

Shit. 

“Ah,” he said, reaching up with his other hand to run his fingers through his hair. “She’s, um, in the shower. I can tell her to call you when she gets out.” 

“Tell her to call Alya. If I don’t hear from her in fifteen minutes, I’m calling the police,” the girl on the other end of the line said coldly, and then hung up.

“Oops,” Luka muttered, setting Marinette’s phone back on the nightstand with a sigh. He hoped she wouldn’t be too mad at him. He probably should have come up with a more ambiguous excuse, something she could use for a cover if she didn’t want to admit to this Alya person that she’d gone home with a guy, but he wasn’t exactly thinking on his feet this morning. 

He should get up. He sat up with a groan and swung his legs over to sit on the edge of the bed, scrubbing his hands over his face. 

He registered that the shower was no longer running at about the same time that the door opened. Luka looked up and his jaw dropped as Marinette shuffled shyly into the room.

Shit, he’d seen her naked less than an hour ago, why was he still blushing?  She was wearing two of his shirts, a t-shirt with one of his button-ups over it, open at the front and with the sleeves rolled up, cinched at her waist with her scarf from the night before. He couldn’t look away from that scarf for a moment, a pink, gauzy thing the sight of which brought Luka another vivid memory of pressing his face against her neck to inhale her perfume as he untied it. His eyes flicked up to the lovely pattern of bruises along her neck. 

“Thanks for letting me raid your closet,” Marinette said, tugging slightly at the hem of his shirt. She had what looked like a pair of his black bike shorts on underneath. They were too big for her but damn did her legs look good anyway.

“No problem,” he coughed, and cleared his throat, reaching for the glass of water that was still sitting on his nightstand. Ugh, when did he become such a horn dog, drooling like this over a woman who had already more than satisfied him. Why did Jean have to decide to be a jerk last night, of all nights. Luka didn’t want things to end like this. 

“Well, I should...If you maybe have a bag I can put my dress in? Then I can just go and get out of your hair.” Marinette couldn’t seem to be still, feet shuffling, hands fluttering, not looking at him.

I have to fix this, was the only thing he could think as he stared at her. I’ll regret it forever if she just walks out.

“Actually,” Luka said quickly, trying desperately not to sound too desperate, “I was going to ask if I could buy you breakfast.” 

That stilled her. She froze, staring at him, and he forced himself to go on. “No pressure,” he shrugged, “But the café on the corner has a great all-day brunch menu. And I’d like to make it up to you, about the dress.” He grinned sheepishly, running a hand through his hair. Marinette’s eyes followed the motion and he thought he saw pink tint her cheeks. Well, at least it wasn’t just him. “Breakfast probably doesn’t begin to cover it, but it’s a start. If you don’t mind waiting for me to shower.” 

Marinette was shuffling again. “O-okay,” she said. “I’ll, um...I’ll wait for you in the other room?”

Luka chuckled. “Sure.” He waited a moment, but when she just stood there, he tossed aside the sheet covering his lap and stood. “I’ll be quick,” he told her with a grin that he was extremely sure she didn’t see. She squeaked as he passed her and he had to smother his laughter, even as he closed the bathroom door behind him. She was too cute, and her ogling made him feel less like a creep for his own.

Then he cursed and opened the door again, leaning just his upper half out. “Oh, I need to tell you, you need to call, um, Alya? I’m really sorry, but we have the same ringtone and I answered without thinking. Can you call her back before she sends the cops after me? I can’t deal with Officer Roger this early in the morning.”

Marinette paused, and then let out a strangled laugh, dropping her head into her hand. “Yeah,” she sighed, but she was smiling when she looked up at him. “Sure, I can do that.” 

Luka smiled back. “I'll only be a few minutes.” 

He did want to be quick, but he also wanted to be clean and attractive, so he throttled back his impatience as best he could to make sure that he both smelled and looked good. The bedroom was still empty when he came in, but the door wasn’t shut all the way and he could hear Marinette on the phone. He felt a little guilty for eavesdropping, but it wasn’t as if he could help it. 

“—about that but it’s not like I ditched you on purpose. Well obviously I was wasted, Alya, so I wasn’t exactly thinking clearly.  No, I’m really fine. I’m kind of embarrassed and I feel really stupid, but...it turned out okay. Hmm? No, he’s really sweet and considerate. He’s, um, buying me breakfast, so…what? No, Alya, I’m not stupid, I know that. He’s just being nice and—okay that is none of your business! ” There was a giggle that followed that, and then her voice dropped too quiet for him to hear, and another giggle, one that made him smile from the sheer joy evident in it. “I guess I got lucky in more ways than one.” She sighed. “Anyway, you don’t have to worry about me. I really am fine. Not even sick, much. I mean I had a headache for a while, but...” She giggled again. “Luka took care of it. Mm-hmm, so good, Alya, oh my God.” Luka grinned to himself as he dug in his closet to find the stack of leftover merch he had crammed into the back corner. “Nuh uh, also none of your business. Anyway, I’m not dead in a ditch somewhere, and I’ll text you when I’m on my way back, okay?”

Stop being a smug bastard , Luka told himself, but it wasn’t working very well. Given the state she had reduced him to, it was gratifying to know she’d enjoyed herself too. Well, he had known that, he’d made sure of it, but it still felt good to hear it from her. Maybe his odds were better than he thought. He found what he was looking for and tried to turn his smirk into something less incriminating before he opened his door and emerged into the living room. From the way Marinette’s face turned red, he failed. “I really gotta go,” she mumbled into the phone, eyes on him. “Bye, Alya.” 

“I hope this will do,” Luka said, offering her the cheap mesh tote with his band logo on it. “You can keep it, we use them to bag up merch when people by t-shirts and stuff for the band...I hope it’s…”

“It’s fine,” Marinette smiled, taking the bag. The pieces of her dress were already neatly folded on the couch, and she turned away from him to put them in the bag. 

“I’m really sorry about that,” Luka told her, frowning a little. “I’m...not usually like that.”

“It’s okay,” Marinette sighed. “It was kind of flimsy, with just those straps to hold the pieces together. I’m not usually like this…” she gestured with one of the folded pieces, “either. I’m not, you know, sexy like that. I made it because I thought...well, I thought he would like it, and maybe I could wear it for a special occasion at home, but I never meant to wear it out , and then when everything happened, I thought I’d never wear it at all, but then Alya insisted that I had to wear it at least once and…” She shrugged, and slipped the handles of the tote over her arm, smiling up at him. “I’m just as happy to have an excuse not to wear it again.” 

“Well, you looked amazing in it,” Luka told her, the corner of his mouth twitching. “But I have to disagree with you about not usually being sexy. My clothes have never looked so hot.”

She tried to hide how much she enjoyed the compliment, but couldn’t quite manage it, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. She’d had a breakup, he remembered, and probably wasn’t feeling too good about herself when she walked into that bar last night, dressed to the nines, and started knocking back drinks. 

Then her blue eyes flicked up to give him a look through her lashes. “I find that hard to believe,” she murmured, and then blushed. 

Oh he was gone. Luka found himself reaching for her, but stopped his hand before it touched her cheek. “Can I kiss you, Marinette?” 

Her eyebrows shot up. “Now, you’re asking?” 

“Yes, I’m asking,” Luka replied, amused. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Marinette’s eyes darted to his mouth, and then back towards the bedroom. “I don’t, um...think I can…” 

Luka chuckled. “Thanks for your opinion of my stamina, but frankly, me either. I’d be more than willing if I could, but, right here right now? I just really want to kiss you.” 

“Why?” Marinette blurted, and then covered her mouth. Luka blinked, but before he could come up with any kind of answer, Marinette straightened and squared her shoulders. “Look,” she said briskly. “I’m sorry, I just...I’ve never done this before, and I don’t know what...I don’t know what the rules are? The...etiquette, or whatever...I mean I kind of thought once we were done with…” Her eyes shifted towards his bedroom again. “I thought it was just, over? And I would go home? So I’m...I guess I’m confused. About why you’re still...um...breakfast and kissing and all that, it just…why would you still want that, after you—I mean we—aren’t we, you know…” She floundered. 

“Okay, hold on,” Luka raised his hands placatingly. “Relax, Marinette. That was kind of a lot to take in.” Luka chuckled, and looked away for a moment as he gathered his thoughts. “I’m not gonna say I’ve never done this before, but...listen, I don’t have a playbook. This isn’t...a business transaction, or whatever. I just do what feels good. Dancing with you felt good. Kissing you felt good. Everything we did after felt good. This morning felt really good.” Marinette blushed, a smile tugging at her lips. “I just feel good with you. I don’t see any reason to put a time limit on that, just because we’re, um. Worn out.” They both giggled self-consciously, and Luka reached for Marinette’s hand, cradling it in his. “If you want to go, or you need to be somewhere, or if you’re just tired of kissing me—”

“I don’t,” Marinette said quickly, taking a half step forward. “I’m...not.” Luka smiled.

“Then just do what feels g—” 

She flung her arms around his neck and kissed him, dropping the bag on the floor. Luka’s hands found her hips automatically, steadying them both from her hasty move, and the kiss softened as they both relaxed into it. 

“You’re right,” Marinette breathed, sending a shiver up his spine. “It does feel good.” 

Luka kissed her again softly, savoring the soft plumpness of her lower lip between his, and rested his forehead against hers. “I could kiss you all day,” he rumbled, and cleared his throat. “But fainting from hunger probably wouldn’t feel so good, so. We should probably go.” 

“Okay,” Marinette said, and then bit the lip he’d just been enjoying. “But maybe we could...keep doing what feels good? For a while? Until I have to go?” 

“Hell yeah,” Luka grinned, and grinned wider when she rose up and kissed him again. He picked up her bag and offered it to her, and walked her to the front door and opened it for her, his other hand still entwined with hers.

They made it to the landing when Marinette hesitated at the top of the stairs. Looking over her head, Luka saw one of his nosier neighbors staring up at them, judgment in every line of her body. Marinette was frozen under the stare, red slowly creeping up her face. He could sense the sudden panic in her, and put a hand on her hip. 

Luka leaned down by her ear. “You were the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen last night,” he murmured, smiling when Marinette shivered and turned her head slightly to listen to him, jolted out of whatever spiral she’d been in. “You completely blew my mind this morning. You’re a goddess. Own it and walk out of here like one.”

Marinette felt as if Luka’s words sank into her skin, warming her in such a way that she almost forgot what they were talking about. She was busy reliving the way he had arched against her, the praises he had whispered into her skin, the way he had clung to her, moaning as he came apart. She did that to him. 

Luka watched as Marinette bit her lip, fighting the smile that was suddenly trying to break out. He brushed his lips against her temple and she looked up at him, still blushing but with a sparkle in her eye that did things to his heart. She reached back and caught his hand, tangling her fingers with his, and marched down the stairs, offering a cheerful smile to the old lady at the bottom. “Good morning,” she said, and Luka grinned shamelessly as they walked out of the door.

When they made it out of the building Luka suddenly pulled back on her hand, and Marinette gasped as he whirled her up against the wall and leaned down. Marinette rose up on her toes to meet him, cupping his face in her hands and they kissed fiercely. Luka braced his hands on the wall and leaned into her. 

“Perfect,” he breathed, though even he wasn’t sure whether he meant her performance just now, or her in general. 

Marinette’s hands slid from his face to his shoulders as she blushed and looked down, but then she looked back up at him, beaming, and Luka couldn’t help smiling back at her as he cupped her cheek and kissed her lightly one more time. “Breakfast,” he sighed, and pushed off the wall. He held out his hand, and Marinette put hers in it, and they were both grinning as they meandered down the sidewalk. 

“How are you feeling?” he asked, and Marinette sighed blissfully. 

“I feel...really good,” she answered. “Thank you.” She paused, and scrunched her nose. “Is that weird to say?” 

“No,” Luka laughed, and brought their hands to his lips to press a kiss against her fingers. “Thank you too. I had a really good time. I’m glad you did too. I’m glad that...well, with the way things started. It could have all gone really badly, or not at all, and...I’m really glad I could show you a good time.” 

Marinette blushed. “It was good. Really, um. Really good.” She sighed. “I promise I know more words than this.” 

Luka chuckled. “It’s okay. Here, it’s this one.” He opened the café door, but he didn’t let go of Marinette’s hand, following right behind her into the café. They were directed to a booth, and he tugged at her, urging her to sit next to him instead of across. 

Marinette only hesitated a moment. Do what feels good . Luka’s arm felt good against her shoulders as he laid it along the back of the booth, and he leaned down and kissed her without any trace of self-consciousness. Marinette’s fingers curled in his shirt. Kissing him felt really good. She should be embarrassed; she should be pushing him away. Hadn’t she heard over and over how important image is, and here she is making out with her one night stand, wearing his clothes, in a public diner booth. 

Do what feels good . 

It definitely felt good. 

“God that feels good,” Luka sighed as they parted, and Marinette giggled. He kissed the top of her head, and then picked up the menu as a slightly wary waitress approached. Marinette glanced up at him in surprise at the rather domestic gesture, but then quickly away again. Stupid. They’d already had that conversation. It was just an impulse, not something to read into. Marinette looked up at the waitress instead, feeling her cheeks heat. 

The waitress didn’t look phased at all. If anything, she looked bored. “Coffee?” she offered in a disinterested tone.

“Um, no, thank you,” Marinette managed to smile. “I’d like some lemon tea with honey, please.” 

The waitress nodded, and glanced at Luka. “Usual, Lu?” 

“Yeah, thanks,” Luka said, flashing a quick grin before looking at the menu again. 

“Come here often?” Marinette teased, and Luka chuckled, then coughed lightly.

“Yeah,” he admitted. “It’s close and I’m lazy, so…” He shrugged. 

The waitress returned and set down a little pot of hot water, a cup with a tea bag in it, and a container of honey. 

Marinette pulled away from Luka slightly to prepare the tea, but his arm remained behind her on the back of the booth. 

“Here,” Marinette said, sliding the tea over to him when it was ready. “This’ll help your throat.”. 

Luka blinked, and then smiled. “Thank you,” he said, and Marinette found herself blushing under his suddenly soft gaze.

“No, thank you,” she said, and he laughed as she reached over and stole his coffee cup. She sipped it carefully. It wasn’t quite as sweet as she liked it, but it was good enough. She glanced up at Luka over the rim, and he was still giving her that soft look. 

“I should figure out a ride,” Marinette murmured, looking away, and she picked up her phone.

“I can get you a cab if you want,” Luka offered, but Marinette shook her head. 

“My roommate’s boyfriend works nights around here, and he should be getting off soon. I’ll see if he can pick me up first.” She smiled at Luka. “If not, we can revisit the offer. Thank you.” 

He leaned down and kissed her again, and she kept him close for another, and her next text to Nino wasn’t entirely coherent. 

They had to disentangle from each other when their food came, but Marinette remained very aware of Luka’s arm brushing her own, and the soft smiles he gave anytime she glanced at him. She glanced away, tucking back a lock of hair to cover up the fact that she was grinning like a fool. Is this what it’s supposed to feel like? she wondered. Was this just like, afterglow or something? Would it fade away once she left?

Luka touched her shoulder and Marinette jumped. He blinked. “Sorry. I was just asking if you got your ride worked out, but I guess you were a bit zoned out.” 

“Sorry,” Marinette said quickly, and stuffed her phone back in her purse. “Yeah, Nino’s going to pick me up here in a little bit.” Luka nodded. 

He put his arm back around her when they were finished eating, and he ordered another lemon tea instead of the coffee she expected. “You were right,” he smiled. “It did help.” 

Marinette mixed it up for him again when it came, and then settled in and leaned against Luka’s side as he sipped it. He smelled nice, and he was warm, and she loved how easy he made everything feel. 

Luka watched Marinette’s eyelids begin to droop. He nuzzled her hair and kissed her temple, but she just smiled, her eyes still closed. She was adorable, and Luka sighed before jostling her slightly.

“Don’t fall asleep on me,” he warned, and Marinette blinked her eyes back open. “I don’t particularly mind, but we can’t stay in this booth all day.”

“Can’t we?” Marinette sighed. “I’m so comfortable. You’ve been...really great Luka. I’m kind of sorry it has to end.” 

Luka took a breath, and took the plunge. “Well, about that. I was hoping maybe we could see each other again.”

Marinette blinked uncomprehendingly, and then blushed as she sat up and looked at him. “Y-you mean, like a...a b-b—” 

“I mean like a date,” Luka corrected, mouth twitching. She was really too cute. “The kind with talking and dinner and movies or whatever. I’d really like to spend more time with you, Marinette. Talking, and not just...well. I’d be lying if I said I wanted to stop doing everything else, but...I want to get to know you.” 

Marinette’s eyes widened. “R-really?”

Luka tilted his head slightly. “Why are you surprised?” 

“I just don’t—I mean I didn’t think I’d be…” Marinette ducked her head, drawing circles in the ring of condensation forming around the base of her water glass. “You don’t even know me.” 

“True.” Luka raised his eyebrows, and shifted his gaze away so he wasn’t looking quite so fully at her. “That’s why I’m asking you out. I don’t know you, but I want to. If you want to call it quits now and go home and never see me again, I’ll accept that, but...it’s definitely not the way I want this to go.”

“I…” Marinette looked down, twining a finger nervously in her hair. “I don’t know, Luka. You’re really sweet and—I really did have a great time with you. It’s just…I don’t want you to get hurt because I’m on the rebound, I…I don’t know if I’m ready for another, um...relationship, right now. I mean...”

Not what he wanted to hear, but...“Okay. That’s fair,” Luka nodded, the fingers of his free hand beginning to tap the table lightly.. “What if we just keep things casual for now? We can go out sometimes, and have some fun together...do what feels good…” he squeezed her hip, and watched her try to keep back the smile that wanted to break out, “get to know each other, and if you want to see other people or whatever, I’m cool with that for now. I’d just really like the chance to spend more time with you. If it doesn’t go anywhere then…” He shrugged, “at least I tried. You’ve put me on notice now, so it’s my choice to take the risk. I think you’re worth it.” His heart was beating so fast, and the tap of his fingers picked up tempo as he watched Marinette consider. 

“Why?” Marinette whispered at last, with a sigh that hurt his heart. Her last relationship must really have done a number on her. 

Luka cupped her cheek in his hand, coaxing her to look up at him. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I just...have a feeling about you. I’ve learned to trust my instincts about people. I can’t explain it logically, I just...know. You’re someone I want to know. I felt it from the moment I saw you, before I’d even had a single drink.” 

Marinette pursed her lips, looking up at him. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to live up to that,” she said after a long moment.

Luka let his thumb stroke lightly against her lower lip. “You don’t have to live up to anything. Just be you, and let what happens happen.” He bent and kissed her, slipping a hand behind her neck to get a better angle as he plundered her mouth in a way that was definitely not appropriate for a public place. Luka was pretty far beyond caring at the moment though. That this gorgeous, sweet, vibrant woman, could question that someone might be drawn to her, attracted to her for more than a passing moment...it just wasn’t right. 

Marinette relaxed into him with a quiet moan. Her hand slipped under his jacket and pressed into his chest, feeling him up shamelessly, and his own fingers tightened on her hip. 

“So,” he breathed, when he finally let her slip reluctantly away. “What do you say?”

Marinette looked up at him, and bit her reddened lip, and then quietly asked, “Are you free this weekend?”

Luka grinned. “Actually, not so much, I’m usually playing gigs on weekends...how about Thursday? That way I don’t have to hurry away.”

Marinette hummed, and pulled out her phone. He watched the fingertip she pressed against her lips as she considered her schedule, and admired her bright eyes when she smiled up at him. “Okay, Thursday works.” 

“It’s a date,” Luka smiled so softly that Marinette’s heart fluttered. How did he do that, kiss her like that and then do something so—so sweet . 

Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea, she thought as he got out his own phone to swap numbers with her. What if she fell for him? 

But...he sounded like he wanted her to fall for him. Maybe? But what if he fell for her, and she was just using him for sex? Because he’d made her feel so, so good...important and beautiful and wanted and…

It might not even be like that again, she told herself. Maybe I just imagined it because I was lonely and depressed and feeling unwanted...maybe I would be thinking about anyone who gave me some attention that way. Maybe we’ll just...fizzle out and it won’t even be an issue.. 

Luka curled his fingers under her chin and tilted her face up. “You okay?” he asked softly. 

“I…” her voice was shaking, and she took a breath and forced a smile. “Yeah. Just. I’m tired.” 

He didn’t believe her. “You’re okay,” he told her, kissing her cheek gently, and then the corner of her mouth. “Whatever’s going on, it’s going to be okay.”

Marinette’s phone beeped, and she picked it up with relief. “He’s almost here.”

She slid out of the booth, and Luka followed. He left some bills on the table and took her hand as they walked out. 

“That’s my ride,” Marinette gestured as Nino pulled up at the curb. She turned to face Luka, stepping close. He set his hands on her hips and squeezed as she leaned up to kiss his cheek, but she paused, and then turned and caught his mouth instead. Luka moved easily to meet her in one of those slow, deep kisses that made it seem like he had no other place in the world to be. She stroked his cheeks with her fingertips and kissed him again, and then again as she slid her fingers back up into his hair. “Goodbye, Luka,” she whispered, and he shook his head. 

“See you later,” he corrected softly.   

As he let go of her she felt something slide along her hip and looked down to see the pink scarf that had been tied around her waist slipping away. She looked up at Luka’s grinning face as he winked at her and draped the gauzy scarf around his neck. He raised the fabric to his face and inhaled. “See you Thursday,” he told her, eyes twinkling, and turned to walk away. 

Marinette’s knees felt shaky as she stepped down the curb and opened the car door. 

Nino was hunched down in the front seat, both hands pulling his cap over his face. “Geeze, Nette,” he muttered as she fell into the seat and tucked her feet inside. “I really didn’t need to see that.” 

“Sorry,” she said breathlessly, but as she flipped down the visor to check herself in the vanity mirror, she saw pink cheeks and sparkling eyes and a broad smile, and knew that she wasn’t convincing. She pressed her fingers to her lips and, for Nino’s sake, fought down the urge to squeal. 

Her glow dimmed a bit as she followed Nino up the stairs to the apartment she shared with Alya. She loved her friend, but...she wasn’t looking forward to this conversation. She tugged the collar of Luka’s shirt a little higher on her neck, and tried to remember what Luka had told her. She had nothing to be ashamed of. 

“Well well well,” Alya drawled as Marinette slipped into the apartment after Nino. “Your very first walk of shame.” She smirked. “Marinette, I didn’t know you had it in you.” 

“What I had in me was a lot of vodka,” Marinette huffed, and came over to the table, accepting the glass of ice water Alya pushed across to her.

Alya waited until Marinette had the drink at her lips to add, “And a hot guy, apparently.” 

Marinette choked, just as Alya had intended. “Alya!” 

“Don’t tell me he wasn’t, girl,” Alya snickered. “You, my friend, look very well fucked.” 

Marinette blushed hard. She was, at that, but Alya didn’t have to put it so...crassly.

Nino groaned. “You know what, just...knock and let me know when you’re done. I don’t want to think about it.” He went down the hall into Alya’s bedroom and shut the door. 

“So you said goodbye to Mr. Right For Tonight?” Alya asked, tapping her fingers against her own glass. “You have all your stuff, right?” She frowned. “Are those his clothes? What happened to your dress?”

“I have it with me,” Marinette defended, picking up the bag she’d dropped. “He just...thought I’d be more comfortable in something else.” Not for a million euros would she have told Alya the whole truth about the dress. “And yes, I said goodbye. For now, anyway,” Marinette muttered, and caught Alya’s gaze when she looked up. Something in that look made her squirm. “Actually we have a date later this week,” she admitted. 

“A date?” Alya raised her eyebrows. “Marinette, maybe I need to clue you in on a few things about this whole one night stand business. As in, one single night. After which you…” She made a fluttering motion with her hand. “You’re not supposed to get a date.” 

Marinette shrugged, and reached over to pluck a croissant from Alya’s plate, just to have something to do with her hands. “Oops.” 

Alya’s frown deepened. 

“What? It’s no big deal,” Marinette defended, though she wasn’t even sure why she felt the need. “We just...thought we’d like to see each other again.” 

Alya looked troubled for a moment, and then grinned. “It was that good, huh?”

“Well—” Marinette squirmed in her seat again. “It was fine, okay? He just...seemed nice.” 

“Uh huh.”  

“It was your idea anyway!” Marinette pointed out defensively.

“My idea was for you to go out and get buzzed and enjoy being drooled over,” Alya grinned. “You decided to get hammered and then get laid all on your own. I hope you’re satisfied .” 

Marinette couldn’t cover the silly smile that wanted to come up at that, but when Alya snickered, Marinette shook herself back to reality and sighed. “It was probably my imagination making things better than they were. I was feeling pretty down last night and I did have a lot to drink. And it has, you know. Been a while.”

“Maybe started seeing through beer goggles?” Alya teased. “Not that I blame you, I thought he was pretty cute when you were dancing, but I’d had a few myself by then too. Not your usual type, but it’s good to branch out.”

Marinette blushed. She didn’t want to tell Alya that while her memories of the evening were hazy, she remembered Luka in the morning very clearly, not only the lines of his body but the broadness of his back beneath her arms as she clung to him, the ripple of the muscles tensing and releasing against her as he moved, the dark intensity of his eyes and the way they fluttered closed when she did something he liked. 

She picked up her water glass and took a long gulp. No, she hadn’t needed the liquor to be attracted to him. Not at all. 

Still. She wasn’t exactly thinking clearly, even now. “Watch,” Marinette sighed, setting the glass down. “The date’ll be a bust and that’ll be the end of it. We probably won’t have anything to say to each other and we’ll exchange awkward texts for a few days and then we’ll never speak again.” 

“Hmm,” Alya raised her eyebrows. “We’ll see. It’s fine if you want to have fun, Marinette, you sure as hell could use some. Just be careful, always use protection, and don’t let him take any nudes.”

Marinette blushed deeply, and bit into her croissant. “Thanks so much for your concern,” she muttered around the mouthful. 

***

Marinette knew she was in trouble as soon as she locked eyes with Luka and her stomach started doing somersaults. The slow smile he gave her was so distracting that she barely heard his greeting, or the compliment that followed. She didn’t remember putting her hand in his, it was just there, his fingers rubbing lightly over her knuckles. They hadn’t even made it to the restaurant when Luka tugged her into a shadowed corner and kissed her in that slow, purposeful way he had. His voice surprised her a little, smoother than it had been, without the roughness of hard usage, but, she found, just as seductive. Any resistance Marinette might have had crumbled the second he turned them out of the light and breathed may I ? against her lips. 

When they did finally make it to their table, Luka was just as easygoing as he’d been on their first...night, and he meant it when he said he wanted to get to know her. He asked her questions, and seemed interested in what she said, even when she babbled, watching her with a quietly amused smile. He was interesting, too, telling her about his travels for the past year with his band. They had a surprising number of tastes in common. His eyes were fixed on her whenever she spoke, and he was touching her whenever he got the chance, taking her hand or playing with her fingers, brushing her hair back or letting his hand rest on her shoulder. Despite the kisses they shared whenever one of them couldn’t help themselves, his touch didn’t feel like seduction, just tenderness. Marinette felt like the center of his world, and after so long living on the sidelines of someone else’s life, she reveled in it. 

They were laughing as he walked her home.

“You did not,” Marinette gasped, one hand over her mouth and the other curled around Luka’s arm. 

“We totally did. What can I say, it was a full moon and my best friend is crazy.” Luka shrugged, and grinned while Marinette laughed.

“Wait, so are you a werewolf?” Marinette asked teasingly, as they approached the awning of her building.

“No,” Luka chuckled. “Unless you’re into that. If so, I can see what arrangements I can make for the next full moon.”

“You’d get bitten by a werewolf for me?” Marinette giggled. “How sweet.”

“I’d rather be bitten by you,” Luka teased back, and his hand found her hip, and her arms came up around his neck, and then they were kissing. Heat welled up in her, making her push up against him. Luka made a sound low in his throat and his hands slid to her lower back, pressing her closer. Oh, she wanted him, and by the feel of him he wanted her too, and…

Well. There really wasn’t any point in denying their mutual desire, was there. Marinette pulled away to press her lips along his jaw, and he made that sound again as he tilted his head for her. 

“Do you want to come upstairs?” Marinette asked, toying with his collar. “My roommate’s out of town tonight, so we won’t be, um...bothering anybody.” 

“I’d love to,” Luka told her, voice deepening. “I’d hate for you to be lonely, all by yourself.”

“Oh, I can entertain myself,” Marinette said daringly, looking up at him through her lashes. “I have an excellent imagination. There’s definitely advantages to having the real you here, though.” 

“Play your cards right and I’m sure we can manage the best of both worlds.” Luka bent and kissed the join of her neck and shoulder, sucking hard enough to make her shudder. “You can start with telling me how you imagine we get upstairs. Are we making out in the elevator or am I chasing you up the stairs?” 

“Elevator,” Marinette sighed, head tilting as he retraced his favorite route up her neck. “I don’t want to wear your legs out just yet.” She paused to consider. “Maybe you could chase me that far, though.” 

Luka pressed another long, slow kiss to her mouth. “Then you’d better run,” he told her, grinning playfully. “I won’t be responsible for what happens when I catch you.” They both giggled, and then Marinette broke away, running for the building doors. Luka darted after her, staying just at her heels, sweeping her up in his arms just in time to carry her through the elevator doors. Marinette spared a brief moment to wonder what she was doing, being so bold, and in sight of the entire lobby, too, but Luka grinned at her, and she forgot to care. Marinette leaned over him to press the button for her floor, and then forgot everything but his mouth under hers. 

Later, when they said a lingering goodbye at her door, and he asked her if she’d like to go out again, she didn’t even hesitate before agreeing. She’d figure out a way to explain it to Alya later.

Fiction Master Post

[gabriel-agreste-has-no-rights]

Rating: G

Summary: While Luka is throwing out his Jagged Stone merch, he and XY have a heart-to-heart in a dumpster.  Takes place after the episode "Truth."  For @luxyweek 2021

Word Count:  1,594

XXX

Rebuilding a whole personality wasn’t fun, to say the least.  

No.  No, he was sick of saying the least.  Rebuilding his personality sucked.

This whole freaking week sucked.

Luka swept his guitar pick collection into a plastic trashbag.  He tried not to flinch as Jagged’s face seemed to wink at him as it tumbled in.  He grit his teeth, but kept going.  This was no time to lose his nerve.

The old Luka took what everyone gave him.  The old Luka kept waiting.  Waiting, waiting, waiting for things to change.

For Marinette to love him back.

For Mom to tell him the truth.

For Jagged to follow through on his promise.

Jagged wasn’t going to call.  They weren’t going to make a song together.  Luka didn’t want to, not anymore.  He didn’t want to be his dad’s—his backup guitarist.  

He squeezed the neck of his guitar, but set it back on his bed.  Maybe he’d never pick it up again, but it wouldn’t go in the dumpster.  Jules would kill him if he threw out a perfectly good instrument like that.

Jules.  She was taking all this in stride—she said that she was used to being forgotten.  Expected it, really.  Knowing the name of the man who’d forgotten her didn’t change anything.

Then again, Jagged hadn’t looked her in the face and chosen Adrien instead.

That was months ago now, but Luka still seethed at the memory.  Jagged had taken Marinette’s guitarist recommendation like it was gospel—he visited her bakery, praised her sunglasses—but he couldn’t even spare a phone call for his son?

He wasn’t jealous of Marinette and Adrien.  Not really.  But the way Marinette effortlessly connected with his dad… that pain dug in its painted nails, and wouldn’t let go.

Posters crumpled and tossed in the bag.  Vinyls followed.  CD cases, t-shirts… man, he was going to have to get some new clothes.  How had Mom let him fill over half of his closet with Jagged Stone merch, knowing what she did?

He clenched his fists so hard his palms hurt.

This was so, so screwed up.

In the end it took three trash bags.  He hauled them over his shoulders like some kind of grunge Santa Claus.  Mom and Jules weren’t around to comment as he walked the plank back to the street.  Jules was probably at Rose’s house, and Mom… who knew where Mom went when she wasn’t home?  Maybe she was off with some other famous loser, like Bob Roth, or— 

Luka paused a few meters from the dumpster.

“XY?”

He’d recognize that tall troll-doll hair anywhere, even covered in… substances that Luka was better off not knowing.  It also helped that his name was on the giant necklace over his bare chest.  

XY slung his arm over the edge of the dumpster.

“Look, if you want an autograph, you’re gonna have to wait like—oh.”  He blinked at Luka.  “It’s just you.  Well, you can get your own dumpster.  This one’s taken.”

“I—I’m not here for the dumpster?”  He blinked back.  The sight of a shirtless XY dumpster diving… it was enough to shock him out of his spiral of rage.  “I mean, I’m here for the dumpster, but I was—just taking out the trash.  What are you doing here?  ...And where’s your shirt?”

“Didn’t want it to get slimy.  And you know what they say, homeslice.  One man’s trash is another man’s next hit single.”  XY held up a stained pigeon plush before dropping it again.

“Uh… no.  No one says that.”

“Whatever, breadslice!  Just gimme your garbage if you’re gonna be such a hater about it.”

Luka sighed.  What was he supposed to do?  Actually find another dumpster?

“You’ll be disappointed.”  He tossed the first of the trash bags up to XY.  “I know I was.”

XY ripped open the thin plastic and scowled.

“What the heck, man?  This really is garbage.”  He held one of the Jagged Stone shirts up to his chest.

“That’s what I told you.”

“No, I mean—this is the kinda garbage you like, though, right?”

“How would you know?”  Luka frowned.

“Stalked your YouTube after ripping off your music.”  XY shrugged.  “Don’t worry, I didn’t steal anything else.  Dad doesn’t need my help with that anymore.”

Luka shook his head.  He was never going to escape Jagged Stone.  It wasn’t like he could take down all Kitty Section’s music videos, videos where he wore Jagged’s merch, covered his songs…

“You got anything else down there?”  XY called.

“See for yourself.”  Luka tossed the other two bags.  They were both met with groans of disappointment.

“I can’t rip off Jagged Stone.  I already tried that.”

“Don’t bother.  He’s not worth ripping off.”  Luka crossed his arms and leaned against the dumpster.  He was probably getting his hoodie—one of the few pieces of clothing he still owned—dirty, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

“Huh.  You’re a weird guy, Lu.”

“Says the one who’s waist-deep in a dumpster.”

“Nowhere to go but up then, right?”  XY gave a nasal laugh.  

What was wrong with him?  He was a famous popstar; he shouldn’t be out here sounding happy to dig in the trash.  What else had he said?  His dad didn’t need his help?

“Did you get fired or something?”  Luka asked bluntly.  He might not have Truth’s powers anymore, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t get answers.

“Eh.  Or something, I guess.”  XY shrugged.  “Does it count as getting fired if you get permanently replaced with a hologram?”

Luka grimaced.  “Probably.”

“Oh.”  XY was quiet for a moment.  “Then yeah.  I’m fired… but only until I find some real inspiration and show Dad I’m not useless!”

Luka snorted.  He wished he could be surprised, but apparently that was just what fathers in the music industry did.  Threw away their kids as soon as they were inconvenient.

“What!  You saw my cardboard costume!  I made that all by myself, y’know, and I can do it again!”

“Sorry. I wasn’t laughing at you.”  Luka climbed up onto the lip of the dumpster and perched there.  It smelled horrid, but it felt easier to talk to XY face-to-face.  “I just don’t see the point.  Of trying to prove you’re not useless.”

XY snapped one of the Jagged Stone records in half.  Stupidly, Luka still flinched at the sound.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”  XY scowled.

“Sorry.  I’m still… everything comes out wrong.”

“No it doesn’t.”  XY pouted.  “Not for you.”

“Now it’s my turn to ask what that means.”

“You can—you just—your music is real!”  XY threw his arms in the air.  “My dad would kill to have a kid like you.”

Luka couldn’t help laughing.  The irony was just too rich.

“Shut up!”  XY threw half of the record at him.  Luka didn’t even have to lean to dodge it.

“Sorry!  I—my dad pretended I didn’t exist!”

XY paused with the other half of the record still poised to throw.  Slowly his arm lowered, until he dropped the broken vinyl to the pile of trash.

“Oh.  Uh.  That’s rough, dude.”

Luka shrugged.  Man, this was awkward.  XY was probably the only one who was too self-absorbed to have seen the news, but Luka took that as a mercy.  It was nice that someone saw him for him, and not as Jagged’s reject.   

“It’s fine.  I didn’t know he existed, either.  Sort of.”  He wasn’t about to explain the situation in detail.

“Huh.”  XY rubbed the back of his already-messy hair.  “We could always swap places.  Parent Trap-style.  You can have my crappy dad, and I’ll beat yours up for you.”

He flexed a bicep, which was surprisingly defined.  Climbing in and out of dumpsters must have done something for XY’s physique.

“Heh.  I’d almost take you up on that, but I can’t stand Bob Roth either.”

XY pursed his lips and nodded.  “Fair, cheeseslice.”

“I preferred ‘breadslice.’”  Luka smiled a little.

“Really?  I’m trying to pick up some new slang.  Y’know, since I’ll probably have to rebrand.”  He flashed his hand sign, then mimed it blowing up.  Complete with dramatic explosion noises.  “You think I’d look good in your old t-shirts?”

Luka’s brow furrowed.  “I thought you said they were garbage.”

“Eh, Dad says I’m an awful judge of quality.”

“Your dad sucks,” Luka said bluntly.  “And so do those clothes.  But, speaking of rebranding… that’s why I’m throwing all this out.  I’m looking for a fresh start, too.”

He couldn’t believe he was saying this to XY of all people, but maybe the popstar was exactly who he needed.  Someone the old Luka would’ve never spoken too.  Someone who, despite everything, understood some of Luka’s pain.

“So if you want to get out of this dumpster… we could go shopping.  If you want.  Get some new stuff.”  He shrugged, as if it wasn’t a big deal.  As if he had plenty of friends he could go shopping with if XY said no.

A friend.  Did XY even count as a friend?  All they’d done was have one conversation in a dumpster.

“That sounds dope!”  XY beamed.  “I’ve never gone shopping with a real breadslice before!”

Luka blinked before letting out a genuine laugh.  Who would’ve known XY could be so funny?  Maybe this was the real him, the one that wasn’t tied down by his dad’s expectations.  That’s what Luka hoped, anyway.

He held out a hand to pull XY out of the garbage, and into a new chapter in their lives.

[onlyganymede]

Wedding Band

Wow! First time doing an LBSC sprint challenge... 

I picked the prompt “Tan lines”, and I literally just finished editing and sprinting (I did all three rounds in one go) right now. 

Also on ao3. @lovebugs-and-snakecharmers

Marinette brushed her fringe out of the way. She was sweating, trying to pry open boxes and lift things and just be helpful. Mylène and Ivan had just moved into a new house, and while several people had agreed to help them move in, it turns out that most of them had meant that they were willing to throw a housewarming party. As for the actual moving in part—Marinette appeared to be the only one, outside of Mylène’s stoic cousin and two of Ivan’s coworkers from his fancy new job. She didn’t envy his city planning, or civil engineering, or whatever it was that he was doing. But she supposed a friendly work environment was something she was a little jealous of.

She worked to heave another large box inside from Mylène’s car (it had a lot of trunk space), and satisfied herself that she hadn’t been left with all of the easy stuff. She may be small, but she could pack quite a punch. She could lift stuff. Size was no indicator of Marinette Dupain-Cheng’s strength.

“Marinette! I’d like that over in here!” Ivan called from the next room over.

“Sure thing,” she said, walking carefully until she saw him and he relieved her arms of the box’s burden.

He set down the box and sighed, looking about. Ivan looked happy. She was glad. Moving out of the Paris city proper was nothing to scoff at. A quieter life had always seemed to suit the pair.

“How about some water? Or other refreshment? I’ve got beer, popsicles…” Ivan led her to the kitchen, where indeed the fridge was sparsely stocked with only  beverage and frozen treats.

“I’ll have a popsicle.”

Ivan handed her one, red, sure to be strawberry or cherry or something that wouldn’t be fruity so much as color, and she unwrapped it. He ducked out to go offer to everyone else, since they were working out how to get the washer and dryer through the doorway, and he thought they deserved a break too.

Marinette had just achieved a brain freeze when both Mylène and Ivan squealed in delight.

“Jules! Luka! So good of you to come!” Marinette heard Mylène say.

“Oomph!” That was Luka, probably receiving a bone-crushing hug from the hostess.

Juleka ducked into the kitchen with Ivan and Mylène’s stoic cousin, her eyebrows briefly flickering up in surprise to see Marinette there, sucking languidly on a popsicle.

“Hi Marinette. Long time no see,” she greeted.

Marinette nodded, swallowing. “Nice to see you too! How’s, y’know, life?” She gestured vaguely.

Ivan handed Juleka a beer, and cracked one open for himself as the stoic cousin filled a cup with tap water from the sink.

“Oh it’s been great. Rose and I, we’re in Germany now, but we’re planning on moving to Amsterdam next spring.” Juleka gave her a sideways glance. “Did you know she’s planning on proposing to me?”

Marinette shook her head no. “She’s seemed the type to do it, but I haven’t really been great at keeping in touch.”

Juleka smiled, taking a swig of her beer. “Little does she know I’ve also been plotting something.”

Luka walked in, Mylène in tow. “What’re you plotting, Jules?” His eyes locked on Marinette’s, and his expression seemed to flicker. “Hey, Marinette, how are you?”

That was decidedly less energetic than his conversation with Mylène had been, more uncertain, something like calm, but she’d take it.

Juleka pointedly ignored Luka to sidle up to Mylène instead.

“Oh, good. You know, designing career is picking up, and all of that. You?”

Marinette was distantly aware of the way the popsicle was melting down her fingers, and was grateful when Mylène suddenly opened the back porch door, and some of the party filtered out. She followed, Luka at her side.

His hair was wet, and his clothes were damp. But he didn’t smell of sweat like her. Nor of river water, as she might expect from his life on the houseboat. It was chlorine.

“I’ve been catching shifts as a lifeguard,” he explained. “Sorry about the pool smell.”

“It’s alright,” Marinette said. Another wave of brain freeze hit, and she with drew the popsicle, which had her fingers and lips a sticky red mess. This was terrible. She was a disaster, unable to even eat properly.

Luka got handed a beer, and then another, as Ivan made his rounds. One for him, one for her. This break was determined to be longer than ten minutes. Marinette didn’t mind. The day was warm and the company was good.

She was fine, seeing Luka now. Until she glanced at his hand, the one holding her beer for when she was done with her messy popsicle, and saw his ring finger. Somewhere in Luka’s work as a lifeguard, he had probably gotten his tan, that was to be expected. But here… there were tan lines around where a wedding band should be. Where one apparently did sit, if Luka wasn’t in the pool or about to help lift heavy objects.

So much for reconnecting. Marinette had always hoped that one day, she’d see him again, and that one day, she’d be able to work up the nerve to flirt, to take chances.

“You good?” He asked, aware that her mind had gone elsewhere.

“Oh! Yeah, I’m fine. You know how it is! Brain freezes!” Marinette defended.

Luka’s eyes only sparkled with mirth. “Right, right.”

“Um, if you don’t mind my asking,” Marinette bit down on the popsicle this time, and quickly licked up the trails of red juice before continuing, “who…?” She indicated the tan lines. The spot where his wedding band should’ve been.

“Who…?” Luka’s brow was furrowed, not processing. She knew he wasn’t teasing, Luka never would. Marinette was about to clarify, to tell him that she didn’t know he was married, when—

“Oh. Oh!” Luka exclaimed, coming to the realization about what she was asking. “I’m not actually married,” his cheeks grew warm, “it’s just that sometimes when I’ve been on tour, the attention just gets to be a bit much, and so I bought myself a cheap ring to wear. People can’t tell it isn’t legit, and I guess it just became a part of me.” He looked at his finger, holding onto her beer and his, inspecting the tanned skin on either side of the band of white.

“Ah.” Marinette didn’t know what to say, other than she had jumped to a conclusion, again.

“Hey Ivan!” One of Ivan’s coworkers called. “We got the machines in, and we need to know where the laundry plumbing is so we can help you hook them up.”

Ivan walked back in the house, and Mylène took that as a cue to guide Juleka back in too. The stoic cousin had already vanished back inside either to help move the machines or for more tap water.

Just Luka and Marinette, outside and alone.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you think—” Luka started, as Marinette said:

“I just wondered because I—”

They both looked at each other, sheepish, and started to laugh.

Marinette’s popsicle was practically slush at this point, and Luka guided her back inside so he could set down the beers and turn on the kitchen sink for her to wash her hands. Her face burned as she watched him pluck the popsicle stick from her fingers, eat the rest off, and throw it away, all with a grin aimed in her direction.

“You first,” Luka said.

Marinette dried her hands, and then folded the towel back up nicely. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I haven’t seen you in a while, and so, well, I’m really glad you aren’t married.”

Luka clearly hadn’t been expecting that, but maybe he had been hoping, just like her.

“I am glad too. I’m sorry you thought that, even for a moment. I never expected you to wait for me or anything, but I’m glad to be available when you are.”

Marinette smiled at him. “Me too. Maybe you want to grab a bite with me when we’re done here and catch me up on your studio work?”

“I’d love to,” Luka smiled back, opening her beer and then his. He touched his bottle to hers in cheers.

“And maybe if things go well that tan line won’t have to go away?” Marinette asked in one breath, rushed words blending together.

Luka almost choked on his drink, grinning again. “I didn’t know you had been pining that badly!”

“Luka! Don’t tease!” But Marinette, too, was grinning like a fool.

[newathens]

in honor of everything that happened on aug 18th the good and the bad here is a scene from secrets that has been collecting dust for a year and may never get its moment but it is where luke castellan gets a chance to speak and it deserves to b seen at least once

LUKE:

     Fresh donuts sat up on the counter, the sweet smell of frosting wafting through the space. The place was warm; their air conditioner busted. It was a random Wednesday at eleven in the morning so there weren’t many bystanders, though the few that were around kept stealing glances towards me. A mother lost in thought touched her cheek and when she caught me looking back, ducked her head. I kept tapping the tabletop with my knuckles, wondering how hard I’d have to whine to get the waitress to give me a chocolate glaze. She’d already passed by three times out of worry.

     The shining, silver bell shook and rang as the diner door opened. 

     He stood in the entryway for a long moment, taking in the length of the diner. It took him two tries to notice me, but when he did, the neutral expression he’d worn shifted into a deep frown. He approached the booth slowly and held my gaze all the while.

    “Not funny,” Hermes said. I smiled with all the gusto of a fourteen-year-old.

    “Sorry,” I said, voice dropping several octaves as I aged ten years. “I couldn’t help myself. Too soon?” He took a seat without another word. Blonde hair, blue eyes—nothing much had changed; in fact, there wasn’t a trace of greying hair to be found. He seemed fit, youthful. “I thought we’d leave some mark on your complexions.” He gave a tight smile and said nothing, but in the silence I noticed it. An airy presence, circling around me much like the scent of the pastries. It wasn’t threatening, just curious, like a snake amongst the forest floor.

     He was checking me.

     I did the same to him and watched, rather gleefully, as his eyes widened in recognition. It felt strange, kind of annoying. Is this how gods’ felt? Striped raw, bodies vibrating like giant batteries next to one another?

       His search turned up short, but mine didn’t.

      “Jean pocket, out with it.”

      He sighed and placed a gold iPhone in the middle of the table. The caduceus shimmered on its back. 

     Oh, look who it is! Martha said.

     “Nice to see you,” I said.

     I didn’t say this was nice!

      “And you too, George.”

     Hey, Luke, he said, if you take over his position, will you get to keep us?

     “I’d hope so, you two are a riot.”

     “Comical,” Hermes said. “Both of you keep quiet.” We looked at each other again, ready to speak but unsure how to start. The waitress beat us to it.

     “How can I—oh!” She nearly snapped her pencil in half. Her eyes were wide on me, then on the next booth over, then to the other side of the diner. “Wasn’t there, I mean, there was a child—”

       “Can I have three of those delicious looking donuts, miss?” I asked. The waitress bit her lip absentmindedly.

        “Sure thing,” she said, “And you?”

        “Nothing,” Hermes said, then his eyes glowed. “Thank you, and apologies.” The waitress stared blankly, then walked off without another word. The donuts from the counter disappeared and reappeared at our table. 

      “Thanks,” I said.

      He let out a tired breath, “Lukas—”

      “Yes, father?”

     His expression soured, wind rattled the windows, but then it softened, his eyes shut. I stared at the caduceus, quiet now. He sat back in his seat, placed a steady hand on the wood, and stared out towards the street. Towards the shops and sidewalks familiar to us both.

     “We’re here to talk, correct?”

     “Yes.”

     “Then explain.”

.

     Hermes had the bridge of his nose pinched between two fingers, eyes closed. As the silence stretched on, the conversation played over in my head. Again and again and again. The whole time he barely said a word, not unlike him. . .but not all that comforting. The diner was empty now, though I hadn’t realized when it happened. No weapons, those were the terms, but it would be a lie to say that my palm wasn’t itching to call Backbiter to it. Martha and George slithered around the staff mimicking some sort of animated phone case.

     I should run.

     He stood without warning. I followed.

    “Let’s go for a walk,” he turned and left. Again, I followed.

     Late summer heat wrapped around us like a blanket as we exited into midday. The area was lively, busy shoppers and cyclists, joggers and freshly-washed cars. Sun shone down heavy on their exteriors and I squinted against the glint. It was way too bright—

     “There’s no one here,” he said. I turned. He was waiting on the sidewalk, body facing north, towards the path that would take you further inland. Away from the main strip, closer to the suburbs. “Just you and me.”

     “Right,” I said and shoved both hands deep into their pockets. I knew where we were going.

     Higher up the heat wasn’t as oppressive. Hot winds blew now and then, rustling dry leaves and pushing the scent of saltwater up from the bay. I breathed deeply out of reflex. We walked in silence. I kept our strides in rhythm. That was until I saw it.

     The beat-up white house with green hinges that had fallen into disrepair from neglect and misfortune was almost unrecognizable. A new coat of paint covered the siding, the chipping front door had been replaced, and curtains blew out of wide open windows. A lush, green lawn surrounded the property, split in half by a clean walkway bracketed with a rainbow of flowers. There wasn’t a single discolored, mildewed, decaying stuffed monster to be found. I jogged forward in spite of myself.

     “What did you. . .” I turned back. Hermes had slowed, taking in the scene much the same as I. He looked at me. “What did you do?”

     “Luke, this isn’t,” he stared at the house and his face twisted, “I haven’t done anything.”

     I swallowed a dry mouth and ran up the walkway, all caution lost to the innate yet unearned fear for a loved one. The door rattled under my fist as I knocked repeatedly, frantically. Hermes took his place on the tiny porch beside me.

     “Hello,” I shouted. “Hello, is anyone home? Hello!”

     “Coming! Just a moment,” a gentle voice rose from the depths of the house and a few moments later, a woman opened the door. Blonde hair, not frizzed, interrupted by streaks of gray. Green eyes; forest green, not neon. Healthy skin, not sickly. A warm smile that only grew wider as she took us in.

     “Mom.”

     “Luke,” she said and pulled me in to press a kiss to my forehead. I went as rigid as ice; she didn’t notice. “And look at you,” she said to Hermes, who hid his shock well. He had a smile on, pressed a kiss to her cheek, but I could tell somehow, that he was as clueless as I.

     The spell.

     “Come on you two,” she ushered inside. “I’m baking.”

     “Cookies?” I guessed. It was the wrong thing to say. She stopped midstep, hand on the doorknob, and stared at me. Both eyes open, mouth in a frown. For a moment, nothing happened. Then she blinked and shook her head, as if pushing away a stupor. 

     “No, pie. Do you like cookies?” She led us into the house. It was quiet, a television played low in the front room. Varied, jewel hues covered the walls, hiding the dirty eggshell they used to be. Tarps covered some furniture, though they were clearly being used. The wood floors shined from a polishing. The entire space smelled of pastry. Hermes followed faster than I. “Luke,” she called. She was leaning out the kitchen archway. “Lemonade?”

      “Sure,” I said but couldn’t move. Then Hermes called my name and I scoffed. 

      The kitchen was different too. All the grime had disappeared. All the appliances updated. The old, retro table had been replaced with a long wooden piece, and on top of it, were strawberries. Buckets and buckets of strawberries, contained in plastic, straw, wicker; anything that would hold them. The sweet scent was nearly overpowering here. My mom held out a full glass and brought my hand to it to make sure it didn’t drop.

     “Strawberries?” I asked.

     She looked at the table, “Oh! Yes, I’ve grown quite an affinity for them,” she shrugged. “Not sure why but. . . they’re pretty aren’t they?” A beep sounded.

     “May,” Hermes said as she pulled a tray from the oven. She looked over her shoulder. 

     “Yes?” 

     “May, are you alright?”

     My mother smiled—with a gorgeous set of pearly whites. Not possible, her teeth had yellowed and rotted years ago. “Of course, I am. It’s a beautiful day and I have two of my favorite people right in front of me.”

     “May,” Hermes said a third time, this one pained. I realized where I felt confusion, he felt hurt. My mother noticed. Her smile dropped and her eyes along with it. “May, the last time I saw you. . .it didn’t look like this.”

     She placed the tray on the stove and took a heavy seat at the table. The towering strawberries seemed to suffocate her figure. “I was very different, wasn’t I? But I don’t like to think about it. Why not have some pie and then you can go? I don’t expect you to stay very long.” She looked at both of us. “You never can.”

    Hermes huffed in misery. He came to sit by her side. I felt like I was watching a television show. This couldn’t be mine, this couldn’t be my parents. 

    He took her hand, “I don’t mean to put you through pain but I’m a little shocked. Your condition. . . wasn’t exactly fixable. I’d like to know what happened.”

    “I don’t know,” she shrugged. “About a year ago, I woke up. . .at least it felt like that. The presence of that thing disappeared, mostly. I could think straight again. I started cleaning up, there wasn’t anything else to do. The calendar on the wall was from the nineties. Found out someone had been paying the bills all this time,” she touched Hermes cheek and he smiled. “One morning I started working on the lawn. . .” she gave a sad, little laugh. “Apparently, I’d gained a reputation. The neighbors were so worried they tried to take the shears out of my hands, but once they realized. . .they helped me. People helped me fix up the house, gave me food, took me to the dentist, taught me how to use these new phones. They were so kind,” she sniffled. “I really didn’t deserve that much kindness.”

     “Of course you do,” Hermes said but she lifted her head towards me.

     “I don’t remember much. I get glimpses, pains even. But what I can recall, none of it is good. The memories. . .and the visions. Luke, honey, I’m so sorry.” The air was so thick I could’ve cut through it with Backbiter. I scuffed my boot against the linoleum. Silence snaked its way through the kitchen, like Martha and Geroge slithered on that phone.

    “There’s nothing to apologize for, Mom,” I said finally.

     “But there is,” she tried. “All that happened, the things I did, and then I just let you—”

     “There’s nothing you have to apologize for,” I said and the air shifted from thick to frigid. Hermes’ jaw tightened, but he didn’t move his gaze from my mother. Whatever. “So did you chuck all my old stuff? Not that it matters, I’m a little too old for Power Ranger pajamas.”

      My mother wiped at her eyes, “Oh no, I haven’t touched your room. Go take a look, it’s all there.”

.

     The tiny, off-white carpeted room with one square window was exactly how I’d left it a long, long time ago. The bureau had one drawer open. Angry crayon marks covered a low corner of the wall. The small, twin bed was made, but wrinkled. I walked up to it and ran a hand across the blanket. 

     I had the sudden urge to stay.

    It hit me like a brick to the solar plexus, knocking the wind from my lungs. Anger followed soon after. What are you thinking? I thought to myself.

    You could go to college.

    You lost your right to a future.

    You don’t get to leave, Annabeth’s voice echoed.

    Through the window I could see the road; children playing across the street; a man starting up a lawn mower. It felt surreal, freakishly abnormal.

    Maybe this was a type of punishment.

    “What are you thinking?” Hermes asked. I hadn’t heard him enter.

    “I’m thinking I’m too big for this bed,” I said and turned towards him, hands in pockets. His cadecaus was out now. The snakes slithered the length of it, restless. “Not that it matters.”

[mc-lukanette]

"Marinette!" Sabine called from downstairs. "Breakfast is ready!"

Marinette stirred, groaning as she shifted underneath the covers. It was one of the very few days where she didn't have anything in particular to do, so the last thing she wanted was to be woken up so early like her mother had just done to her.

Still, she knew it'd be rude to just lie there without responding, so she threw the blanket off of herself and shouted, "On my way!"

She yawned, far too tired to be in the waking world but forcing herself up anyway. She didn't even bother looking in the mirror, accepting whatever nightmare sleeping with her hair down had caused. It was a lazy day and she was determined to keep it that way, especially with how nice and warm she felt.

It was probably the warmest she'd ever felt, really.

She opened her trapdoor, letting out some variation of "good morning" as she descended the stairs, thankful that the smell of breakfast was enough to keep her moving.

Tom, having just set her plate down on the table, turned to greet her with a smile. "Good morni—"

Marinette stopped short of sitting down when she'd noticed that he'd cut himself off, a silly smile breaking out onto his face. She could even hear Sabine giggling behind her.

"Papa? What is it?"

He propped an elbow onto the table and leaned on it, looking at her with interest. "Thinking about anyone today, Marinette?"

"Huh?" She blinked, completely thrown off by the question and way too sleepy for it regardless. "Uh, not really?" She slid herself into her seat, picking up her fork before immediately dropping it as she noted, "Oh, I guess I am thinking about Luka. I hope he likes the jacket I gave him last night."

Her parents exchanged a glance, making Marinette immediately suspicious. She squinted, retrieving her fork again. "What?"

"Why don't you ask him yourself?" Sabine inquired. Marinette turned to her, confused, and she clarified, "He's actually been waiting outside the side door for a while now."

"Oh." Marinette paused, then straightened on alert, slamming her fork down on the table as mental clarity hit. "Huh?! Why?!"

"He didn't want to come in until you were awake," Tom explained, still grinning away.

She hurried away from the table, groaning and quickly running her fingers through her hair to neaten it. "You should've said so! I would've been up right away!"

She huffed as she rushed out of the room, mentally preparing a scolding for her parents later. It explained the smiles at least; they'd been messing with her.

She nearly tripped on the way down the stairs due to her fast pace, though still stumbled on the last step and nearly plowed into the door because of it. She scrambled to open it, practically throwing it against the wall as she exclaimed, "Luka! Hi!" to the person standing on the other side.

Luka kept on a calm smile, though it had more energy than usual. "Hey, Marinette." He looked down at his jacket, gripping the fabric for emphasis. "I know I could've texted you, but I wanted to tell you in person that it's amazing. I was wearing it all evening and it's one of the comfiest things I've ever worn. I don't know how you did it, but—"

He went to look back up at her, but suddenly choked on his own words, mouth still hanging open as he seemed to really take her in. Marinette, meanwhile, simply blinked, not understanding the pause. She supposed that she looked a little ragged from just getting out of bed, but—

oh, right, she was still in her pajamas.

Immediately, her hands flew to cover any bare skin that Luka wouldn't have been used to seeing, only to be thwarted as her fingers touched fabric, not skin. Confusion settled in for a few seconds before memories of last night returned to her sleep-deprived mind. Hesitantly, her gaze drifted downwards, her face going pale as cold realization washed over her.

She was wearing Luka's hoodie-jacket combo; that's what everyone had been reacting to.

She peered up at Luka, seeing that his eyes were still locked on his clothes she was wearing. Panic spiking, she immediately began taking it off.

"O-oh, wow!" she said loudly. "How did this get here? I'm sorry, there must've been a mistake! I'm so out of it in the morning, and it was really cold out, and my parents woke me up so I was tired, and I guess I just picked your jacket up by accident! Don't you just hate it when that happens? Anyway, here you go!"

She shoved the mass of fabric into his arms, turning on her heel and fleeing in the other direction. She couldn't even take the first few steps before she heard the clothes hit the floor and felt Luka's arms wrap around her waist, pulling her to him and keeping her there. She squeaked, blushing all the way to her ears, but didn't force him away.

"Is that the truth?" he asked quietly, voice heavy with an emotion she didn't dare call hope.

She shifted, trying to swallow her nerves while remaining wrapped in his hold. His tone alone indicated that he knew her story was a lie, and she had already felt bad for lying in the first place. He was just too perceptive, and it was one of the many things she loved about him.

"...N-no," she admitted. "It's not."

He hugged her tighter, burying his face in the spot between her neck and shoulder. She could feel him exhale against her skin and shuddered at the sensation.

"I-I'm sorry," she stammered, "It was just—you left your jacket and you wear it all the time so I always remember how it felt whenever we hugged or anything, t-then I missed you after you left and I wanted to know how it felt to wear something of yours and it ended up being really w-warm so—" Her voice briefly cracked. "—I slept in it and I know it's weird and I'm sorry again—"

"No," Luka gently interjected.

"H-huh?"

"It's not weird at all, at least not to me," he whispered, his face apparently making a home in her hair. "You don't think I'd wear your jacket all the time if I was shorter than you?"

"Wh—" She blinked, jarred put of her panicked state by that reaction. "Really...?"

"Mhm," he hummed in reply. He paused, thoughtful, then raised his head up to add, "I wish I was, actually, now that I think about it."

"L-luka!" she gasped.

He chuckled happily, apparently unphased by her reaction. It finally registered with her that he was truly, honestly charmed by her wearing his jacket. She'd gotten so used to people judging her that—

...Well, Luka was always the exception.

"T-then—!" She turned her upper body around in his arms, their faces mere centimeters away. "I'll make a jacket that's really big on me, a-and I'll wear it all the time, and then you can wear that!"

His surprised expression melted into a warm smile, and it only then occurred to her how close their faces were. She wasn't sure her face had ever been that close to his, actually. His eyes were the same pretty blue that they always were and his pink lips were twice as tempting when he smiled like that.

"Please do, Marinette," he replied.

Deep down, she knew he was referring to the jacket idea, but her body wasn't listening. Her lips met his, and she didn't have time to doubt the impulse because he immediately kissed her back. His loosened his hug on her so she could comfortably face him, then tightened it right back up to pull her close. She slipped her hands underneath his Marinette-brand jacket, sliding her hands along his back to embrace him in return. Luka hummed contentedly, one hand moving up the back of her shirt to stroke along her spine. Though he was careful not to touch her bare skin, she shivered anyway.

They pulled apart with a soft clicking noise after what was probably far too long when her parents were in the same building as them. Marinette reluctantly pulled her hands away, occupying herself by toying with the fabric of the jacket he was wearing.

"S-s—" She swallowed, knowing it shouldn't have been a hard question considering they'd just made out. "Stay for breakfast?"

He grinned like the absolute dork that he was, his hands moving to hold hers. "Not long enough. Can I stay for lunch too?"

She unintentionally mirrored his grin, nodding eagerly. "Please do, Luka."

He closed the door behind him while she picked up and put his hoodie+jacket combo back on, the two eagerly holding hands as they ascended the staircase.

[mikauzoran]

Lukadrien: Zebras Can’t Change Their Stripes: Chapter One

Read it on AO3: Zebras Can’t Change Their Stripes: Chapter One

A whole week had passed since The Breakup, and Luka was still reeling.

“You brought this upon yourself,” he reminded bitterly as he rolled over and found the space on the bed next to him empty and cold.

He kept telling himself, “You broke up with her”, “It was the right thing to do”, and “You couldn’t keep waiting for her to move on. That wasn’t healthy”, but the words never quite sank in.

One week later, he was even more of a mess than when he’d finally gotten the courage to break things off. The pain of being without her, knowing that it was really over, was worse than having her by his side knowing that she was thinking about someone else when she kissed him.

At least before he’d had a place in her heart, even if it was only second.

With a groan, Luka pushed himself up to sitting and grabbed his phone off the nightstand.

There was a text from Juleka berating him for drinking too much, not returning her texts, and taking crap care of himself.

Rose had also sent him a message reminding him about family dinner that Sunday.

Jacob, the bassist from his band Eternal Nocturne, had texted him not to be late for the auditions for a new lead singer that afternoon.

Luka cursed, setting his phone down without replying to anyone. He scrubbed his face with both hands and then forced himself to kick the covers off and get up.

It was already almost noon, and the mature, adult part of his brain knew that he had to get his stuff together. He was twenty-six, and he’d been through breakups before. He would survive this one as well…even though it didn’t feel like it at the moment.

He pushed himself out of bed and began to search around for something clean to wear.

He really needed to do laundry. And the dishes. And the grocery shopping.

Luka winced as he uncovered a lacey pink bra with white polka dots under a pile of jeans that reeked of alcohol and stale bar smell.

He needed to make a breakup box, put all of her leftover things in it, and send it back to her.

His heart sank at that realization, the finality of it.

He put the bra back under the jeans and promised himself he’d deal with it later. When he was feeling better…. Whenever that happened to be.

The important thing just then was to find something that could pass as clean so that he could get to the audition and not let his bandmates down. He was already disappointing himself and his family. He needed to do right by somebody at least.

 Adrien was screwed.

He’d been back in Paris for two days, and, already, his funds were almost entirely used up. He’d found a cheap hostel in Pigalle where he’d been able to shower and get a decent night’s rest without having to worry about anyone bothering him, but he wouldn’t be able to stay there for much longer unless he found work.

That was turning out to be much harder than anticipated. In Paris, people were a lot stricter about having to have valid identification to secure employment. They were also a lot more persnickety about hiring Adrien Agreste, even if it was just to wash dishes, clean hotel rooms, or wait tables.

Maybe he could talk to the owners of the hostel about working the front desk. He’d done that before in Nice and Lyon.

If the situation really got dire, he could always try to find someone like Nino from his past who would be sympathetic and maybe let him sleep on a couch or something until he could get back up on his feet again.

He didn’t want to do that, but it was beginning to look like he had no other choice. It had been four years since his father’s arrest, four years since Adrien lost his family, his fortune, and even the ability to use his own name. He’d thought that maybe people would have cooled off and moved on, that it was safe to come back to Paris, back home…but it wasn’t looking like it so far.

He was starting to think that it had been a mistake to return, but he couldn’t bring himself to regret it. He was tired of roaming the country and scraping by, and he couldn’t go on like that any longer. He wanted to establish roots and make a place for himself. He wanted to feel grounded again.

He was determined to figure things out and make it work, and if that meant going door to door to every restaurant, shop, and hotel in Paris until he found a job, that’s what he was going to do. He was through running away; it was time to settle down and make a life for himself.

He wasn’t sure what that life would look like, but if it included years of hard work, a partner who saw him and not his father’s crimes, some children who inherited his mother’s smile, and a pet or two, Adrien would be content.

He just had to find a job first so that he didn’t end up on the street nicking food out of restaurant dumpsters again.

As he descended the steps into the Métro, a flyer advertising auditions for a lead singer for a band caught Adrien’s eye.

He stopped and studied it, noting that auditions had begun twenty minutes prior at a bar just a few blocks away.

He grabbed the flyer and took off at a jog.

 “No one’s coming,” Jacob grumbled half an hour into the audition time when it became apparent that not a single soul was going to show up.

“Doesn’t look like it,” Josie the drummer agreed, tipping back on her barstool so that it balanced precariously on two legs. “So, what are we going to do without a vocalist?”

“Yeah, we’ve got that gig coming up this weekend,” Jacob reminded, chewing anxiously on his bottom lip.

Josie and Jacob both looked to Marc—guitarist, keyboardist, and the band’s unofficial leader/mum.

“Josephine, don’t do that; you’re going to fall,” Marc sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “…I mean, I can cover lead for one night.”

“Who’s going to do your backup vocals, then,” Josie demanded, setting her stool legs back on the ground.

“Luka can,” Marc informed.

Jacob snorted. “Luka’s drunk.”

“Luka is not drunk,” Marc growled defensively. “He knows better than to show up drunk. He’s just hung over, isn’t that right, Luc?”

“Yes, and I’m nursing a killer headache, so if we could take the volume of the talking down a few decibels, it would be greatly appreciated,” Luka groaned, pulling his newsboy cap down a little further to shield his eyes from the bright light emanating from the stage where the people auditioning were supposed to be performing.

“And who’s going to do Luka’s backup vocals?” Josie persisted, lowering her voice out of consideration for Luka.

“I don’t know. Jacob?” Marc suggested uncertainly.

Josie let out a bark of laughter. “Jacob can’t walk and talk at the same time. How is he supposed to play and sing?”

“Josie,” Marc scolded. “Be nice.”

“No, she’s got a point,” Jacob cut in. “I’ve walked into poles before because I didn’t see them because I was talking to someone. Multitasking really isn’t my strong suit.”

Marc opened his mouth to reply, paused to consider his words, and then shut his mouth.

“Excuse me?” a new voice called out.

The band turned their heads to find a thin, scraggly young man standing in the doorway.

He had scruffy, wild blonde hair and piercing peridot eyes, and it was impossible to say how old he was exactly. He looked young, but he had one of those ageless faces that could have just as easily been twenty as forty. His clothes had been expensive, good quality when they were new, but now they were well-worn and showing their age.

“Are auditions over already?” he inquired, taking a tentative step into the bar.

The door closed behind him, and now that he wasn’t backlit by the daylight pouring in from outside, Luka could see him clearly.

His eyes widened as he recognized his former crush whom he hadn’t seen in four long years.

“No, we’re still going,” Jacob informed.

“You here to try out, Kid?” Josie asked with a big smile, turning on her stool to face him.

Adrien nodded, holding up the flyer in his hand. “I just learned about the audition, like, ten minutes ago, so I don’t have anything prepared in advance, but I’m a good singer with a pretty expansive range. I’m a quick study too, so, if you teach me, I’ll pick up your songs right away.”

“All right,” Marc agreed with a grin. “Go ahead and take the stage, and we’ll see what you’ve got. What’s your name?”

“Émile,” Adrien responded with a smile as he took his spot in front of the microphone. “Émile Dupain.”

Luka frowned.

Surely, he wasn’t mistaken. The years had changed Adrien, yes, but he wasn’t that different. Luka knew that face, those eyes, that smile.

“Nice to meet you, Émile,” Marc greeted amicably. “I’m Marc. I play keyboard and some guitar depending on the song. I also do backup vocals.”

“I’m Josie. Percussion,” Josie took over. “This idiot is Jacob, our bassist,”

Jacob gamely raised a hand. “Sup.”

“and Mr. Doom and Gloom over there is Luc,” Josie completed the introductions. “He plays guitar and does backup vocals. Ignore him for right now. He just broke up with his girlfriend, so he’s kind of in a funk. Normally, he’s the nicest person, so give him another week and you’ll be best friends.”

“Thank you for broadcasting all that, Josie,” Luka grumbled as he waved at Adrien, just waiting for him to recognize Luka.

He worried that if Adrien were trying to conceal his identity, he wouldn’t appreciate the reunion, but a part of Luka hoped that Adrien would be excited to see him again. Luka was certainly happy to see Adrien.

“It’s nice to meet you all,” Adrien replied, friendly expression not changing in the slightest. “What kind of music do you guys usually play?”

Luka fought down a tsunami of disappointment at Adrien not seeming to recognize him.

“Usually alternative or punk,” Marc supplied, not appearing to notice the way Luka slumped in his chair. “We mostly do covers, but we have our own songs too. Our next show is Saturday, but we’ll just be doing covers for that one, so it shouldn’t be too hard for you to get up to speed if we decide to hire you.”

Adrien nodded. “Sounds good. I’m a hard worker, so I’ll get the music memorized right away and be ready for the show.”

“Have you ever been in a band before, Émile?” Josie inquired curiously.

“Yes,” Adrien answered with confidence. “I’m a little out of practice at the moment, but I played keyboard and did a little bit of backup vocals.”

“What kind of band was it?” Marc asked.

“Uh…the genre’s called kawaiicore, if you’ve heard of it,” Adrien informed, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

Jacob’s forehead furrowed in concentration as he tried to recall. “It sounds familiar, but I’m coming up blank. What’s kawaiicore?”

“You know when I showed you Babymetal?” Luka reminded.

Jacob’s face lit up, and Josie started to nod too.

“Like Kitty Section!” Jacob exclaimed.

“Yeah!” Adrien perked up. “That’s—”

He cut himself off and went pale when he realized that telling them that he had been the keyboardist in Kitty Section was just as good as revealing his identity.

“That’s right,” Adrien completed. “Like Kitty Section. I can do other genres, though. I can sing anything: musical theatre, opera, jazz, pop—whatever.”

“So, what will you be singing for us today?” Marc prompted, very interested in seeing what Adrien would come up with.

“Well, I’ve kind of been living under a rock lately, so I’m not exactly up on what’s popular now,” Adrien hedged. “I mostly listen to music in Japanese, so maybe I could just sing something so that you can see if my voice is a good fit for you guys, and then you can give me a list of songs you usually do so that I can memorize them.”

“Sounds fair,” Josie replied with a shrug. “So, what are you going to sing?”

Adrien bit his lip and took a deep breath, scanning his mind for a song that would show off his abilities.

“Do you know Charles?” Luka spoke up. “That was popular a couple years ago. If you know that one, I could play the guitar part along with you.”

Adrien had been the one to introduce the song to Luka, and they’d played it together with Kitty Section with Adrien doing the main vocals. Luka still played that song from time to time when he was feeling nostalgic.

On stage, Adrien’s eyes widened in surprise. “Uh…yeah. Yeah, I know Charles. It’s one of my favourites. You wouldn’t mind?”

He narrowed his eyes, trying to get a better look at Luka’s facial features, but the hat blocked Adrien’s view, and it was difficult to discern Luka’s face clearly in the dim lighting of the bar when contrasted with the blinding lights on stage.

“I’d be happy to,” Luka assured, reaching down to grab his guitar off of the amp where it lay.

“Thank you,” Adrien replied with a big smile that made Luka positive that he hadn’t been mistaken about “Émile’s” identity. “Ready when you are.”

Luka counted them in and began to play.

Adrien blew the band away with his vocals. His voice was smooth and lyrical, gliding over the notes like a swan across a pond.

“He has really clear intonation,” Marc hummed softly in approval to his bandmates after listening to Adrien sing for a bit.

“And he wasn’t lying about his range,” Josie chuckled as she drummed out the rhythm on her thighs and danced in her seat.

“I certainly can’t hit those notes,” Jacob laughed.

“Neither can I,” Josie snorted. “Well, maybe on a good day, but not the way he does. He just shoots all the way up there and drops back down again like it’s nothing.”

“It’s so clean too,” Marc added. “His voice doesn’t crack or squeak or waver or anything. He hits those notes dead center, and then he stays there until it’s time to move to the next note.”

“I think we struck gold,” Jacob snickered.

“He’s super cute too.” Josie smirked deviously. “He’s sure to attract a crowd. We just need to put some eyeliner on him and get him in leather pants, and—”

“—Distracting me,” Luka hissed quietly so that he wouldn’t interrupt Adrien.

Jacob waggled his eyebrows as he whispered, “What? Imagining Émile in leather pants?”

“Jacques,” Luka warned testily.

“He’s totally your type, though,” Josie joined in helpfully. “I think a new romance is just the thing to get you over your breakup.”

“Jacob, Josephine,” Marc called quietly but firmly. “Leave him alone.”

Josie and Jacob both held up their hands in a placating gesture and let the subject drop.

Luka redoubled his focus on his fingers, trying to banish the thought of Chat Noir from his mind.

“Waraiatte sayonara,” Adrien finished softly and then looked to the band for their judgment call.

Jacob started clapping, and Josie wolf-whistled.

“Can we do that song sometime?” Jacob directed at Marc. “I bet the bass part is killer.”

“Yeah!” Josie cheered. “I can’t wait to get my drumsticks on that.”

“I don’t see why we couldn’t,” Marc agreed and then turned back to Adrien with a smile. “You really can sing. That was great.”

“You think so?” Adrien asked with a breathless giddiness, starting to squirm in excitement.

“Definitely,” Luka assured. “You sing like an angel.”

“Make him sing something else,” Josie demanded of Marc who had the grace to blush.

“Josephine, I can’t just make him sing for us,” he sighed and then looked to Adrien. “Would you mind singing something else?”

“Not at all,” Adrien easily agreed, eager to please.

He needed the job desperately, and if he could get paid just for singing, that was certainly easier than anything else he’d done for money the past four years.

“Um…let me think of something else I could sing for you,” he mumbled, chewing on his lip as he wracked his thoughts.

“…Do you know Ranbu no Melody?” Luka suggested. “That’s another one I could play along with you, if you’re familiar with it. I only know the minute and a half that was used as the Bleach opening theme song, though.”

“Yeah, I think I remember how that version goes,” Adrien fibbed.

Luka and Adrien had watched portions of Bleach together, and Adrien had sung along with all of the openings. If Luka still remembered the guitar part, surely, Adrien remembered the lyrics.

Luka counted them in again, and Adrien proved not to have forgotten at all. He sang with every ounce of confidence and enthusiasm that he had back when they’d been teenagers watching anime together.

It was reassuring for Luka to know that, even though Adrien might have changed in the years they’d been apart, there were some things that remained the same.

“How do you know all this weeb music, Luka?” Jacob wondered.

“The Boy was a total anime nerd,” Luka explained with an affectionate smile.

Jacob and Josie let out soft “Oooooh”s and started to nod.

The Boy was practically a mythical figure at this point in their friendship. Luka had talked a lot about The Boy over the years, just like he’d talked a lot about The Girl. Luka had dated many people and loved a small handful, but no one had penetrated so deeply into Luka’s heart as Adrien and Marinette.

“…He’s really good,” Marc observed, visibly delighted as he listened to Adrien. “He puts a lot of emotion into his voice, and I am loving it.”

“Yeah,” Jacob chimed in. “I have no idea what the hell he’s saying, but I feel it, Man. It’s intense.”

Luka’s smile turned melancholy as he remarked, “If I remember correctly, the song is about soldiering on and taking on whatever difficulty is in front of you and then carrying those experiences forward to present them to the person you want to spend your life with. It’s kind of like…we’re the sum of our experiences, and the singer hopes that the person they love will accept them anyway, even though they’ve got cracks and jagged edges in places.”

“Wow,” Josie whispered. “That’s…deep.”

“That’s what I got out of it, anyway,” Luka quickly added. “The Boy translated it into French for me, and then I kind of interpreted it artistically, taking some liberties, but that’s what I got out of it.”

“I like this song,” Jacob decided, tapping his foot along. “I like this kid.”

“We’re adopting him,” Josie decreed.

“Yeah.” Jacob nodded resolutely. “I need to get him to show me more weeb music. I feel like I’ve been missing out.”

“Wooo!!!” Josie cheered loudly as Adrien finished. “We love you!”

“Sing more!” Jacob encouraged as he clapped.

A blush spread across Adrien’s cheeks like fire catching on dried grass.

He rubbed at the back of his neck and looked to Marc for instruction, sensing that Marc was the leader of their little circus.

“I think it would be good if we all played something together to see if we mesh well as a band,” Marc decided. “Would that be okay with you, Émile?”

Adrien nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, of course.”

Jacob turned to Luka. “What song does he know that we could all play?”

Luka shrank, semi-hiding behind his guitar. “Why are you asking me?”

“You did the psychic thing with the songs in Japanese,” Jacob reasoned with a shrug. “Do it again.”

“Yeah,” Josie urged, reaching across Marc to poke Luka. “Do it.”

“I don’t know,” Luka grumbled. “How about This is Gospel? We play that one sometimes.”

And he had taught Adrien how to play it on guitar, so maybe Adrien remembered the lyrics.

“I know that one,” Adrien offered.

“Awesome!” Josie trilled, jumping down from her stool and heading over to the stage to join Adrien.

Once she reached him, she pulled him into a crushing hug.

It was kind of cute. Josie was a statuesque six-foot-two, and Adrien was only five-eight. (Five-ten with shoes on, he used to always insist, sensitive about his lack of height.)

“Hi. We’re adopting you,” Josie informed him as she pulled back with a grin and then abruptly turned on her heel and headed for her drum set.

Marc shook his head, getting up and making his way to the stage to turn on his keyboard.

“Josephine, don’t scare the poor kid,” he chastised wearily.

“I’m not!” she insisted. “I’m being friendly!”

Marc placed a hand on Adrien’s shoulder as he passed, assuring, “She means well. If we ever make you uncomfortable, just say something, okay?”

“It’s fine,” Adrien assured, wiping at the tears beading at the corners of his eyes, hoping that Marc couldn’t see. “I’m just…I’m not used to people being so friendly. I don’t…people don’t hug me. Ever.”

Marc frowned at that, his mum senses kicking in. “Do you like being hugged?”

Adrien nodded.

“Okay then.” Marc didn’t even hesitate as he pulled Adrien in for a hug—not a guy hug with a pat on the back, but an honest to goodness hug.

He pulled back with a smile, instructing, “Just let us know whenever you want a hug, okay? You’re family now. Family get hugs whenever.”

Adrien had to actually bite his tongue to hold in a whimper. He couldn’t find his voice to reply, so he nodded and rubbed away the tears that were quickly taking the previous ones’ place.

“I’ll give you a hug in a minute, Kid,” Jacob assured, picking up his bass. “I’m just lazy, and I’m already set up over here.”

“Same,” Luka latched onto Jacob’s excuse, figuring that now wasn’t the best time for a reunion with Adrien.

Josie counted them in and started the heartbeat-like rhythm that began the song.

Adrien took a deep breath and sang.

The full sound of the band all playing together resonated powerfully through the bar, giving Adrien chills.

It wasn’t perfect. The timing was a little off in places, and Adrien needed to learn his cues if he was going to sync up with the others. They needed to work out the backup vocals and other little things to make the performance come out smooth, but they were starting in a good place. They could polish this up and make it shine.

It felt good to be playing with a band again. Adrien hadn’t realized how much he’d missed making music with others, being a part of a team.

He’d been so alone these past four years.

Partly that was his own fault. He’d run away both literally and figuratively and shut people out who otherwise would have been there for him. He’d let pride and shame and fear of rejection win…and now he was finally realizing how exhausting it had been.

Now that these nice people were opening up to him and accepting him into their little family, it finally dawned upon Adrien that he’d been foolish to try to make it on his own for so long. He hadn’t realized how draining it had been until he’d been offered the chance to rest.

He needed to call Nino and reconnect.

He needed to find Marinette and apologize for giving up his Miraculous and taking off because he’d been overwhelmed after his father’s arrest and hadn’t felt worthy of being Chat Noir.

He needed to fix things, fix his life.

As the song came to an end, a feeling of calm and peace settled over Adrien.

He was still broke and not sure where his next meal was coming from or if he’d have a roof over his head in the intervening days between now and the show on Saturday when he’d presumably get paid, but, oddly enough, he felt a little better about things.

“We killed that,” Jacob preened as he set down his bass and went over to join the others on stage. “Excellent work, Kid,” he announced, pulling Adrien into a hug.

“I’m guessing I got the job?” Adrien hazarded a guess, looking around at his bandmates for confirmation.

“Oh, definitely,” Josie assured. “You know that one meme? ‘I’ve only known Émile for twenty minutes, but if anything happened to him, I’d kill everyone and then myself.’”

Adrien cracked up, beaming. “I don’t think anyone’s ever felt that strongly about me before.”

“Poor boy. And now he’s stuck with us,” Jacob snickered, giving Adrien’s hair a tussle.

“Let’s exchange contact information so we can get ahold of you,” Marc suggested. “Are you available tomorrow? We’re going to need a lot of rehearsal time between now and Saturday in order to be ready.”

“Yes. I’m available,” Adrien quickly confirmed. “I don’t have a phone, though, so if we could communicate by email, that would be great. I’m le chat de la princesse de la nuit on gmail. All lowercase and run together.”

“Yeah, no problem,” Marc assured, getting out his phone and opening up a new email. “I’ll email you all of our numbers and emails so you can get in touch with us. I’ll email you again later with the place and time. It’ll probably be Phantasmagoria over in the eighth arrondissement. You know it?”

Adrien nodded. “I had a friend whose band played there. He used to sneak me in before I turned eighteen.”

The fond smile on Adrien’s face gave Luka some hope that maybe he was still a good memory for Adrien and that Adrien wouldn’t be too upset when he realized just whose band he had inadvertently joined.

It didn’t occur to Adrien until later to wonder if Luka still played at Phantasmagoria and if Raoul the bartender still worked there and would recognize Adrien.

“Good,” Marc chuckled. “I’m glad you know it. Like I said, I’ll confirm place and time later this afternoon.”

He then turned to Luka. “Hey, Rich Boy. Would you mind picking up a phone for Émile? It’s going to be really inconvenient if we can’t get ahold of him.”

“You don’t have to do to that!” Adrien looked frantically between Marc and Luka. “I’ll-I’ll pay you back when I can. I promise.”

“Don’t worry about it, Angel,” Luka assured with a kind smile as he got up and started to put his guitar away. “My bio dad got hit with a huge dose of guilt a few years ago for never bothering to find out I existed let alone pay child support for me, so I’ve got a ridiculous trust fund that I don’t know what to do with now.”

Adrien’s brow furrowed, and he wanted to protest out of principle, but even he had to acknowledge that it would be really useful to have a phone, and he was too down on his luck to afford one.

“Thank you. I really appreciate it, Luc,” he replied with sincerity.

“Sure thing.” Luka smiled, giving Adrien a wink and doing an internal victory dance when Adrien smiled back at him.

“…Well, I guess if you guys don’t need anything else from me, I’m going to head out,” Adrien excused himself politely, starting to make his way towards the door. “It was lovely meeting you all.”

“You too, Kid!” Jacob assured, and Josie seconded the sentiment.

“We’ll see you tomorrow, Émile.” Marc waved him off. “Be safe.”

Adrien returned the wave and turned to go.

Luka bit his lip, debating with himself.

“What’s that face you’re making?” Josie snickered, coming back to perch on her barstool.

“You should go ask him out to coffee,” Jacob suggested as he came over, making a shooing gesture at Luka.

“Jacob will babysit your stuff for you,” Marc volunteered.

Luka looked to Jacob, and Jacob shrugged.

“We all want you to start feeling better soon,” Josie explained, giving Luka a soft smile. “Spending time with someone new will be good for you.”

“Just don’t come on too strong so that you scare him off,” Marc cautioned. “Don’t do that heart-song stuff. He’s a good kid, and we need him for Saturday.”

Luka rolled his eyes, handing his guitar to Jacob. “Thanks, guys, but this isn’t a romantic thing.”

“Uh-huh,” Josie agreed disingenuously, a cat-that-ate-the-canary smirk pulling at the corners of her lips.

“Have fun,” Jacob snickered.

Luka shook his head, making for the door.

He looked back and forth once he got outside of the bar and just happened to spot Adrien turning the corner.

He raced after him, slowing down as he began to catch up because he figured the last thing Adrien needed was someone he didn’t recognize barreling towards him and making him think he was in danger.

He decelerated into a walk and took a few deep breaths before calling out, “Adrien!”

Adrien froze, every muscle in his back going tense as he slowly turned.

“I’m sorry. I think you’ve confused me with someone el—” he started to say but then stopped short as he got a good look at Luka in the light of day without his cap obscuring the view.

Adrien’s eyes widened, his cheeks lost all colour, and his mouth dropped open.

“Luka?” he breathed, his heart stopping in his chest.

[officialleehadan]

Whisper Comment

Ikaroa turned out to be an immense, burly man with darkly tanned skin and a mass of wildly curly black hair that hung down past his shoulders in a cloud. Deep tattoos crawled over his chest, visible under his open shirt.

When he smiled, Maggie caught sight of his teeth, which came to sharp, many-rowed points.

Skinshifter, most likely, and Zaaba said ‘Longfin’ which didn’t mean much to Maggie, but suggested some branch of the aquatic Others. She would have to sent a letter to Luka, asking about them, once she got out of this particular situation.

Assuming, of course, she didn’t have to call down the might of the Imperial fleet to get out of this situation, which would no be ideal. She liked the Blackbird, and she didn’t want to have to leave it.

Water ran through in a deep channel to one side of the room, but the air smelled reasonably clean. Probably because of the water. The man behind her made sure she was steady, the floor was slick, and let go of her hand, but he didn’t step away. Maggie suspected that he was the only person the kidnappers had who could go up against an electromancer, and he was their insurance against her abilities.

Which… well, that meant some interesting things about how much planning went into their little operation here. Zaaba hadn’t mentioned having problems with any other captain beyond the usual ones that everyone had a problem with, but this seemed like a longstanding grudge.

“Ikaroa, you bottom-feeding crack-toothed slimeskin,” Zaaba said when she clapped eyes on the big captain. “What the hell are you doing grabbing one of my crew? We have our problems, but you touch one of mine again, I’ll peel you, coat you in salt, and stake you in the sun.”

“Zaaba, always a pleasure,” Ikaroa said, his deep voice bright and cheerful as he gave Zaaba a very toothy grin. “Had to make sure you wouldn’t make a scene in public.”

“I’mma ‘bout to make a scene right here. What do you want?”

“Are they going to fight or flirt?” Maggie muttered to her captor, who was rolling his eyes so hard she could tell he was doing it without even looking at him. He had the knife to her throat again, but it rested against her collar, more a gesture than a statement of intent. “Any way I can talk you into helping me lock them in a room to figure themselves out?”

“Nothing doing, love,” he whispered back, apparently stifling snickers at her irreverent comment. “She’d eat him whole if he wasn’t poison. Can’t let it happen.”

“I couldn’t convince you?”

“You probably could,” he said with a low chuckle in her ear. “But I think Dad would kill me if I asked you out while he’s trying to threaten your captain.”

“Given the knife to my throat, I wouldn’t say yes If you asked me out. Also, Ikaroa is your father?”

“Can’t blame you for that, and, yes he is. Watch out. They’re looking at us.”

Maggie met Zaaba’s annoyed gaze and gave her an artful, guileless smile that made her captain glare harder before turning back to her apparent-rival. Maggie gave them another minute to get back into their argument, which seemed to involve a lot of insults regarding people who had scales and people who didn’t, before huffing an annoyed sigh.

“So,” she said when she was confident that neither captain was paying attention to them. “What’s all this about? Oh, and what’s your name? I’m getting tired of thinking of you as ‘the man’.”

“Marcus. You?”

“Maggie.”

“Hey, M solidarity. Anyway, your captain underbid a job in my captain’s territory. Apparently it was a whole drama,” Marcus explained. He was quiet for a minute, and then the knife went away. Maggie hid a smile. He seemed nice, but it would be easier to get herself and Zaaba out of this without having to worry about a knife to the throat. “He wants reparation money for the business he lost.”

“He knows the Blackbird doesn’t actually have that kind of money, right? Most of what we make goes into the ship, and Zaaba will die before she lets him take that from her.”

“Math isn’t his best subject. I tried to talk him around,” Marcus sighed, apparently the only reasonable person in the room besides Maggie herself. “How’d a core girl end up on a smuggling ship?”

Maggie might have replied, she had half a dozen lies about her history ready to go, but Zaaba caught her eye and glanced at the door. Apparently it was time to go.

“You’ll have to see if our paths cross again, for your answer,” Maggie told Marcus, and flickered magic over her bracelet. A holding spell, the finest money could buy, and cast by one of the better Imperial sorcerers, billowed through the room and caught the whole crew neatly. Zaaba, who had clearly been expecting something, but probably not that, stared at her. “Captain, it seems it’s time to go. Shall we?”

“We’ll be talking about your bag of tricks when we get back to the ship,” Zaaba said, apparently nonplussed by Maggie’s undisclosed ready-to-fire spells. The were all one-off spells, but Luka would send her more in her next care package, and she had a stash of them in her room on the ship. “How long do we have?”

“Probably long enough to get out of here,” Maggie said, and led the way back up the slippery, winding stairs. “It’s got a ten minute lead, which should get us out of this hole and back to the market. If they start something there, the Delve Peacekeepers will be on them.”

“Ten minutes,” Zaaba said to herself and nodded resolutely as they took the stairs as fast as they dared, holding tight to the rail as they went, boots sliding in the slime. “Right. Well, I’ve been meaning to teach you when it’s better fight and when it’s better to run. Lesson the first. There’s no honor in getting shot, so run the hell away.”

+++

HGE - Blackbird:

Crown Princess Lucia Therese Magdalene has taken to the sky like her brother, Luka, before her. With her name and her crown set aside, Maggie Gol will take the Human Galactic Empire by storm.

Hot Pepper Blackbird

Fixing What’s Broke

Smuggler’s Den

Penny Zap (Subscriber Only!)

Down the Delve (Subscriber Only!)

+++

More Stories!

+++

[unmaskedagain]

Oh Lady Luck (How I miss you so!)

Okay; first off. I hated this. I had a massive case of writer’s block while doing it and lost inspiration near the end.

Oh Lady Luck (How I miss you so!)

           Bustier’s class was the luckiest in school, everyone knew it. They got to go on the most amazing trips, win contest after contest, competition after competition, met all sorts of celebrities, frequently got to meet Ladybug, through the best dances and school plays, and always seemed to have a pep in their step. Anything any of the students went after they always managed to get. Everyone knew Bustier’s class was the luckiest in school. Then one day that changed dramatically.

“You’ve changed,” Alya accused Marinette after the class voted her out as Class president. “You become a bully.”

           Alix snorted, “More like a jealous bitch.”

           There were nods from the other students in class. Lila smiled at Marinette; happy that her promise to ruin the girl was coming true.

“You’re always so mean to Lila,” Rose added. “It’s not nice.”

“You’re worse than Chloe now,” Kim glared.

           Juleka frowned, “We miss the old Marinette.”

“You should’ve chilled out like I told you to, dudette,” Nino said with a shake of his head, clearly disappointed.

“We can’t be your friends anymore,” Alya crossed her arms.

           Marinette had listen to them quietly as they relayed reason after reason why they were ending their friendships with her; all to do with Lila. She didn’t bother to look at Adrien. He had warned her what was going to happen; Nino had told him. There had also been a group text apparently. Adrien made it clear he stood with Marinette. Even more so, when he chose to sit with her in the back of the class, a fierce glare on his face at the other students.

The bluenette placed down her pencil, closed her sketchbook and said, “Fine. Then we’re not friends anymore.”

“That’s counts double for me,” Adrien hissed. “Lose my number. In fact, don’t bother; I’ll just change it. That goes for every last one of you. I’ll be informing my Father and Nathalie that only Chloe and Marinette are on my visitors list.”

           The class blinked in shock. Not expecting that reaction from the blond boy who was usually so amicable and nice.

           Chloe watched with amused eyes. She had been sentenced to the back of the room not long after Marinette. “We’ve never been friends but consider all extra little perks you’ve gotten used to: dead and over with.”

           That was it. None of the other students knew what to say or do. They hadn’t gotten the reaction they expected. Marinette didn’t seem to care. Adrien seemed ready to set them on fire. Chloe looked rather pleased at the idea of seeing them burn. Most shrugged it off; figuring at least two of the three (Marinette and Adrien) would come crawling back in no time.

           They didn’t.

           Things started to change for the students in Bustier’s class the next day.

           Lila woke up in the morning to an email confirming that she would no longer being a model or any type of employee for the Gabriel Agreste brand. Or as Nathalie put it when the sausage hair girl called her, “We will no longer be needing your services, Miss Rossi. Do not contact us again.” Click.

           That was when Lila realized her plan of using Gabriel to get Adrien under her thumb had went up in flames. She hoped that Adrien wasn’t informed so that maybe she could still use his father as a threat against the boy.

           When she go to class, the blond model sent her a vicious smirk. Lila paled. She knew without a doubt that Adrien didn’t just know Lila was fired, he was the one got her fired.

           Nino woke up to the news that the gig he was due to play, his big break, had replaced him. It would’ve been huge for his career.

Oh well, he thought, back to DJ-ing for birthday parties.

           Alya accidently dropped her phone in the toilet; ruining hundreds of videos and pictures for the Ladyblog.

           Alix took a dive while skating; broke her ankle and the watch her dad gave her.

           Max broke his glasses.

           Kim got food poisoning.

           Ivan’s dad ran over his drum set while parking in the garage.

           Rose tried to call Prince Ali and found out he changed his number.

           Nathaniel spilled coffee all over his Ladybug comic strips. Marc had been pissed.

           Juleka’s mom accidently put bleach in with a load of her laundry; it ruined everything.

           By the time they had all got to class, all the students were in a terrible mood. However, when Marinette walked in with a box full of delicious smelling breakfast pastries; they perked up. The bluenette always seemed to know when they needed a pick me up. And there was nothing like a treat from the Dupain-Cheng Bakery.

           Marinette didn’t acknowledge any of their presences. She walked straight to the back of the classroom, sat in her seat between Chloe and Adrien. “Morning!” She beamed at her friends. “I brought treats for the three of us.”

“Awesome!” Adrien smiled, quickly opening the box and snagging a chocolate croissant. “Delicous, Thank you” He said. Or least they thought he said that. His mouth was full and it was mostly garbled.

           Chloe rolled her eyes. She grabbed a mixed berries and cream cheese pastry, “Perfect way to start the day. Thank you, Marinette.”

           Marinette took out her favorite: a berry and jasmine scone. Then she promptly through the box away; making clear that she hadn’t brought any for anyone else. “Anything for my friends.”

“We’ll do lunch at Le Grand Paris,” Chloe said. “On me of course. The chef there is to die for.”

           The other students visibly wilted. Alya in particular who loved going to Le Grand Paris as her mother was the head chef.

           It all went downhill from there.

           Over the next week things went from bad to worse for the students.

           Bustier told the class their trip the Presidential office was cancelled due to an unexpected flooding incident. The plan had been for the class to tour the office and have amazing picnic on the beach afterwards

           Lila’s mother, who had been busy nearly 24/7, officially went on vacation, meaning she plenty of time to spend with her daughter. Her daughter was panicked when her mother inquired about visiting her school.

           Alya discovered that the hits to her site had started to declined dramatically. She didn’t have time to worry about that as her internship with a local new studio had been cancelled; something about realizing Alya didn’t have enough experience. So her summer plans were cancelled.

           Nino’s Dj equipment sparked or shorted out or something but nothing would work anymore. He had cancel the rest of his gigs until he could buy new ones.

           Kim lost a swim match against Ondine.

           Markov got a virus and broke down causing Max to break down in tears.

           Nathaniel lost the expensive sketch pencil he won in a contest.

           Alix’s grandmother brought her a new dresses; frilly monstrosities that Alix’s forced her to wear to school for the entire week.

           Rose, Ivan, and Juleka were heartbroken when Luka announced he was going Solo.

           It didn’t help anyone’s mood that every day Marinette, Chloe, and Adrien walked into class with big smiles on their faces and pleasantly discussed their amazing plans.

           On Wednesday, Adrien invited Marinette and Chloe to come with him to meet the Prime Minister.

           Apparently, Adrien’s dad had called in favors so the three would tour Palais Bourbon, where the French Parliament meets.

“He said I could invite all my friends!” Adrien smiled.

           Marinette had been shocked at this. Until Adrien explained that his aunt had threatened to reveal to the world Gabriel Agreste’s neglectful behavior, his tendency break child labor laws, and his need to isolate Adrien. Thanks to his aunt, Adrien had a much free-er schedule and Gabriel had been in therapy for weeks. “I’ll bring food from the bakery. We can have a picnic!”

“Beach day!” Chloe cheered.

           No one else so much as smiled at the news. Even more so when pictures surfaced on Friday of Marinette, Chloe, Adrien, Ondine, Marc, Mireille, and Aurore with various members of Parliament; including the prime minister.

           Thursday, Chloe loudly invited Marinette and Adrien to an event for her mother, “It’s a fashion show! It’s tonight. Adrien can relax behind the scenes, while Mari and me model on the run way. Mama’s lost a few models so I told her I could recommend a few friends.”

“I’m modeling!” Marinette paled so much, her friends were sure she’d pass out.

“I get to do nothing!” Adrien grinned.

           Pictures of Chloe and Marinette modeling exploded across the internet; multiple fashion websites and online magazines deeming the girls’ Style Queen’s secret weapon and modeling next big thing.

           Most of the guys in class shrugged it off. But a few of the girls turned greened with envy; Lila in particular.

           On Friday, Marinette invited Adrien and Chloe to meet her uncle and her cousin, “He’s back in town on Saturday and he wants to meet all my friends.”

           No one else in class paid too much to that. Who cared about Marinette’s uncle? Or her cousin? They were probably just as stuck-up and nasty as she was.

           Then on Saturday, picture of the same group who went to Parliament, plus Luka, with Jagged Stone and Clara Nightingale started trending on the internet. Jagged Stone posted a tweet about how awesome his honorary niece was, with a picture of him and Marinette. Clara posted a pic with her favorite little cousin, Marinette.

           Alya couldn’t believe her eyes and immediately started texting Marinette for the deets. She received a text back saying; new number; who dis?

           Nino flat-out called Adrien only hear that the number had been disconnected.

           The rest of the class faced the same issue.

           And then one by one, they each remembered that they weren’t friends with any of the tree Ostracized students anymore.

           Monday, Alya found out that BugOut, a competing Ladybug blog, had been officially endorsed by Ladybug and Chat Noir. Something that hadn’t happened with the Ladyblog.

           Max lost the science fair. For the first time. He had to go see the school guidance counselor.

           Kim got kicked off the team for his poor grade.

           Lila’s finally called the school to schedule an appointment. Lila was Akumatized within the five minutes.

           Alix’s grandma brought her more clothes; some which were tacky sweaters with cats all over them

           Nathaniel misplaced his new sketch book, with his redone Ladybug comic strips. He never found it. Marc wasn’t happy.

           Nino got a call to dj a huge event only to have to decline as he hadn’t bought new equipment yet.

           It was Adrien that brought in breakfast for the other two; Mcdonalds. Much to the Chloe and Marinette’s dismay, but they didn’t say anything as the boy was clearly happy about being allowed to eat it for the first time.

           Marinette unwrapped her sausage Mcgriddle, wondering who she hurt in a past life, “Jagged is doing a private concert. You two want to come?”

           Adrien nodded, his mouth full of fried hash brown and bacon. “Count me in,” They think he said.

           Chloe held the egg mcmuffin in her hand like it was physically hurting her to do so, “I’m in,” she said. “And I’m bringing breakfast tomorrow.”

           The class was dismayed at missing at meeting Jagged Stone again.

“Are you going to invite us?” Alya asked with a huff.

           Marinette didn’t even look in her direction, “Sorry Uncle Jagged said I can only invite my friends.”

           Ouch.

           Over the course of the next few months, things continued to fall apart for the class. They tried planning one of their usual amazing dances, only for everything to crash and burn. Then they remembered that Marinette planned everything, and before her, Chloe.

           The class never made enough money fundraising so nearly all planned class trips were canceled.

           They had to deal with seeing pictures of Marinette, Adrien, and Chloe and all their friends meeting all sorts of celebrities.

           Ladybug disowned the Ladyblog; causing Alya to burst into tears.

           No matter what any of the students tried, did, competed in, they never won. They practically failed at everything.

           Rose tried to bake cookies for the class; her kitchen caught on fire.

           Max applied for science camp; all spots were full.

           Nathaniel who had lost his comic drawing for the twelfth time in a row was finally told by Marc to take a hike.

           Nino lost his hat, broke his glasses, a dog at his homework, and he tripped landed face down in the mud; all on the way to school one morning.

           The students were constantly late, frustrated, and always seemed to have something accidently spilled or thrown on their clothes.

           Lila’s  mother, who finally decided to just randomly drop by the school after being told repeatedly by her daughter that it was closed so she couldn’t do the appointment for months, was shocked to say the least when it was clearly opened and active. She had a long talk with the Principle and all of Lila’s lies were revealed to class.

           Class was very apologetic to the three ostracized students after that but it didn’t matter. The three made it clear they weren’t interested in renewing their friendships.

           By the end of the year Bustier’s class went from the luckiest in school to the unluckiest kids on the planet.

           The students of Bustier’s class couldn’t help but wonder aloud why they lucked changed do much.

           Tikki, Plagg, and Pollen, hidden away in their chosens’ school bags just smirked.

[nerdypanda3126]

City of Love – Ch. 8

Luka helps Marinette with dinner and Marinette discovers something she wasn't supposed to.

Read on Ao3 

First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

“Stop fidgeting,” Sass snapped at Luka, swatting his hand away from his hoodie pocket for what felt like the thousandth time. “You’re making me fidget.” 

“Then stop pointing out that I’m fidgeting.” Luka let his hand drift back into his pocket and clutched at the little gift box. For some reason it felt like if he didn’t check that it was there it would suddenly disappear, or fall out, or—God forbid—randomly show up in his hand with him on one knee in the middle of Marinette’s kitchen before they even got through dinner.

They were standing in front of her apartment door, waiting to be let in, and there was a small scuffle on the other side. 

“No! Don’t let them in yet!” Marinette was saying, apparently not knowing how her voice was carrying through the door. Luka exchanged a nervous glance with Sass.

“But Marinette—”

A crash. A string of cursing. More scuffling. Sass knocked again, timidly, and Tikki wrenched the door open a moment later, with a smile plastered on her face and Marinette a little behind her, waving woodenly.

“You made it!” Tikki chirped, a little breathlessly, Luka noted, and as Tikki stepped aside to let them in, he also noticed that the coffee table was at an odd angle, like someone had tripped over it, and Marinette was surreptitiously fixing her hair that had fallen out of her bun. 

Sass nudged Luka’s ribs with his elbow and he closed his mouth to smile instead. It wasn’t that Marinette was particularly dressed up, it was just… the black dress she was wearing—that he remembered seeing on Tikki the first night they met now that he thought about it—it suited her. As did the pink apron with black polka dots she had tied over it, modestly covering what he knew was a plunging neckline that was going to kill him when the apron came off. 

He blinked and looked over and Sass had already left his side, settling onto the couch with Tikki comfortably. Sass hadn’t brought Tikki’s ring with him tonight. He had a plan and he didn’t want to risk Tikki finding out. Luka’s hand drifted back to his hoodie pocket. Why had he brought Marinette’s? 

“Luka?” Marinette asked gently. Shit. She’d been saying something.

“Um, yeah. D’accord,” he answered her apparent question. She held her hand out expectantly. For his jacket. Oh. Shit. He pulled it off, careful not to turn out his pocket, and handed it to her. 

With his jacket bundled in her hand, she blushed deeply as her eyes raked over him, too. He tugged at the rolled-up sleeve of the dark pink button-down he’d worn over his black jeans. He’d been thinking of her bandana when he’d picked it out, hoping it would be a subtle nod to her. Her eyelashes fluttered as her gaze dropped to her shoes. 

“You look nice,” she said, so quietly he almost didn’t hear her. Then her eyes were back on his and she was smiling shyly. “Good thing your sleeves are rolled up, I need you in the kitchen.” 

She pointed to the narrow kitchen before she went to hang his jacket up in the hall closet. He gulped and wiped his suddenly sweaty palms on his jeans before following her direction. As he glanced over what she had going, it seemed simple enough. Everything was already simmering and smelled wonderful. So what did she need him for? 

Before he could wonder about it anymore her perfume was wafting around him and he spun to face her. She was looking through a box of index cards, and she pulled one out before handing it to him. 

“Think you can handle this? It’s my dad’s recipe.” 

He glanced down at the card. Pain au chocolat. He’d made it a million times at the café when he’d worked there. But he felt his eyebrows pulling together as he tried to understand why she was having him make this. If it was her dad’s recipe, surely she knew how to make it? 

When he looked back up at her, she was pulling ingredients out for him already, setting them up at what was apparently his workstation. Right next to hers at the stove. They’d practically be hip to hip. He gulped. 

“Bien sûr.” 

Even though his sleeves were rolled up, he pushed them up again out of nerves. He could do this. Hot stove, hotter woman next to him, what could possibly go wrong? At least the ring was safely tucked away in the hall closet with his jacket and he could be sure it wouldn’t be discovered by accident.

So he took his place next to her and bent his head to his work. First the dough, mixing the wet and dry ingredients until they stuck together, then rolling it out on the counter until it was a flat rectangle. The recipe called for full puff, but he knew rough puff would be faster. 

“Do you have a grater?” he asked her, then his breath caught because he hadn’t realized she was so close. She glanced over at his work, then smiled, apparently guessing his train of thought. 

“It’s up there,” she pointed to the cupboards above the stove, above where she was standing and stirring the sauce she was making. But she wasn’t moving aside for him. He didn’t know what to think of that. How did she expect him to get to it? 

But he stood behind her and put his hand on her waist as if they were dancing, relying on that unspoken communication they’d already shared to communicate what he needed. With a gentle nudge, she stepped aside just enough for him to reach up to the top cabinet. For some reason he held his breath as he leaned over her. His chest pressed against her back for the briefest moment before he found the grater and stepped away again, back to his task before the butter could melt away, his ears burning with heat that had nothing to do with the stove. 

As he folded the grated butter in, one third of the dough up, the other third down, like a book, he barely noticed that she was leaning over, almost resting her head on his shoulder to watch. 

“Good call,” she noted, “using the rough puff. I don’t know if Papa ever thought of doing it that way.” 

“It’s just what we did at the café,” he admitted, “since it’s a bit faster, it made it easier to keep fresh pain au chocolat on hand.” He bent to set the dough, wrapped in plastic wrap, in the fridge, then turned back to her. “Anything else I can help with?” 

“Actually, yes. Can you keep stirring this? I’ll be right back.” She pulled aside for him to take her place at the stove and their hands brushed as she handed off the spoon to him. 

Absent-mindedly, he took up the task, although out of the corner of his eye he noticed her lift the apron over her head and hang it up on a hook before grabbing a plate of hors d’oeuvres and taking it out to the living room with Tikki and Sass. He took a quick, calming breath. Don’t think about the dress. Don’t think about the dress. 

He heard laughter floating through from the living room and then she was back, and he turned to face her just as she reached for the apron again. 

He blushed all the way to the roots of his hair. He’d been able to see into the side of her dress when she stretched and she was definitely not wearing a bra. Deep breaths, Luka, he chastised himself. She was already freaked out about his confession, and tonight was his chance to make it up to her. He couldn’t blow it by being a creep. So he pretended not to notice as she tied the apron strings back around her waist, and he tried not to notice that she relieved him of his position by bumping her hip against his and fitting her hand under his to take the spoon back. 

His hands were too sweaty to work with the pastry dough again, and he wiped his palms on his jeans self-consciously. Either she was trying to kill him, or… 

Maybe she was trying to tell him something? He snuck a glance at her, and she was focused on her task, although there was a slight flush to her cheeks and he caught her glancing over at him, too. 

“I’m glad you were able to come tonight,” she ventured when she’d seen that he’d caught her, keeping her eyes down. 

“Me, too. I didn’t get a chance—well, I mean, last time we saw each other…” He ran his hand through his hair. “I think maybe I gave you the wrong impression?” 

“Non, pas du tout, c’est juste que…" She bit her lip and took the pot off the stove, stirring it still as it thickened slowly. “I wanted to apologize. I didn’t… I couldn’t say anything, tu sais?” 

“I didn’t expect you to,” he said softly. Her blush bloomed and her shy smile widened. He took courage from it. “I just wanted you to know. I haven’t felt this way about anyone before. That’s all.” 

She paused in her movements and turned to face him. She seemed to search his face for something, but what she was looking for he couldn’t begin to tell. 

Before he could say anything else stupid, he grabbed the dough from the fridge and started on his second fold. Although she stayed quiet and thoughtful next to him, she leaned her hip against his as they worked. He thought again of the ring hidden safely in his hoodie pocket and smiled. Maybe Sass hadn’t been too far off. Maybe it wouldn’t be tonight, maybe not for a while, but he was glad he had the option, at least, and Marinette’s soft smile and shy glances at him and the way she brushed her arms against his definitely more than necessary gave him a little hope that maybe she’d accept him if the time ever came. 

***

Things went well, Marinette had to admit. Almost too well. She and Luka worked in the narrow kitchen together like they’d done it for years. Although now that she thought about it, cooking together wasn’t too far off from dancing together. She blushed as she remembered Tikki’s implication. A lot of things were like dancing. 

His hand fell on her hip again to move her out of the way of the oven so he could pull out his perfect pain au chocolat. Her pink polka-dotted ruffled oven mitts on his big hands made her giggle, but he just gave her that sideways grin of his, like he was proud to have made her laugh, and it went straight to her fluttering, nervous heart. 

She wanted so badly to forget about serving dinner and maybe push him up against the fridge and kiss him senseless. But other than the small touches here and there to communicate with her, he’d been so hands-off that every time he did touch her was an electric thrill. He was being respectful, she knew, but when he pulled the oven mitts off and ran his hands through his hair as he checked his work she caught sight of his tanned forearms and her mouth practically watered. She couldn’t even try to convince herself it was because of the molten chocolate and baked butter and all the other delicious smells they’d created together. 

When they’d served dinner, Tikki had given Marinette a meaningful, loaded look. Marinette blushed, nodded, and looked away before Tikki could get any bright ideas. She would tell him. She would. Tonight in the kitchen he’d more than proved he was just as willing to be together as she was. 

Dinner was perfect. Talking and laughing with Luka was so natural and easy. She felt almost like she’d known him forever instead of just a few days. He even dared to feed her a bite or two of his pain au chocolat and she was in perfect bliss as his fingers brushed against her lips. 

All too soon, it was time for them to leave. Regretfully, she retrieved Luka’s jacket from the hall closet. A small box fell out of his pocket and onto the floor at her feet. She stooped to pick it up. It looked like a jewelry box of some kind, small enough to be a necklace or maybe a ring. 

A ring? 

She glanced up and he was distracted, talking with Sass and Tikki, laughing about something. With trembling fingers, she opened the lid. A small diamond winked back at her, nestled into the dark velvet inside the box. Her eyes popped back up to Luka. He hadn’t noticed her yet. Had he meant… No, she wasn’t supposed to find this, this wasn’t hers… It couldn’t possibly be for her. That was… insane. 

But he glanced over and saw her at last, holding the small box, and his gaze went from terrified to soft within a matter of seconds, and he smiled back at her. Her heart started hammering in her ears as he walked over. Was he—would he—this couldn’t be happening. 

When he was standing next to her, he took the small box from her hand and sighed. “I guess it was meant to happen this way, then,” he murmured, still smiling. He bent his head so he could speak only to her. “You don’t have to say anything, and I’m not expecting an answer,” he started gently. He caught her eyes and let out a soft, embarrassed chuckle. “You know, I told you before that Juleka thought I needed someone in my life. Someone to go crazy over. And this is definitely the craziest thing I think I’ve ever done.” He pulled the ring out of the box and looked at it for a moment. Between his fingers it looked so small and fragile. 

“If it helps, think of this as a promise rather than an offer. A promise that… if you’d have me, if you’d ever want this with me—” He had to pause to clear his throat and she didn’t realize that her hands had flown up to cover her mouth and tears had sprung to the corners of her eyes. When he’d regained his composure, he reached up to brush his thumb over her cheek. “That I’m ready whenever you are.”

He pulled one of her hands away from her mouth and laid the ring in her palm and closed her fingers around it. 

“I’m yours, Marinette,” he almost whispered, glancing up at her from behind his hair, a tentative half-smile lifting his cheek. He bent to press his forehead to hers briefly before he started to straighten up, but she grabbed the fabric at the waist of his shirt to keep him from turning away. 

Clutching the ring tightly in her other hand, she pushed up on her toes to meet his lips like she’d wanted to all night long. His breath hitched into her mouth before he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer to him, his eyes fluttering closed and his smile widening even as he kissed her back. 

And he was a great kisser, she noted idly as his soft lips moved against hers. He was kissing her like he needed her to breathe, like the last thing he ever wanted to do was let her go. She got a little lost in him, in his strong arms around her and the cologne he’d worn tonight—was it the same as that first night they met? God, she should’ve kissed him, then, if this was what she’d been missing. 

He pulled away to breathe, but stayed close enough that his top lip still brushed against hers. “Is that a yes?” he asked, and he sounded dazed, like kissing her was the last thing he’d expected to do tonight. 

“It’s a ‘we’ll see,’” she answered him with a sly smile, then tipped up again to press her lips to his again quickly. 

“I’ll take it.” He grinned and squeezed her to him. “Is it too late to ask you out on a date sometime?” 

“Hey, idiot, you just proposed, I think a date is a moot point,” Sass jeered at them and Marinette blushed before she hid her face in Luka’s chest. She’d forgotten they had an audience. 

When she gathered her courage and looked over, Tikki was positively beaming, her arms wrapped around Sass’s waist as she leaned into him. Luka just smirked back at him though, and flipped him off before he turned back to Marinette and leaned down to speak in her ear again. 

“Sass is going to ask Tikki on a boat ride at night on the Seine as they pass the Tower, you wanna go?” When he pulled back, his eyes were sparkling with mischief. 

“Really?” She couldn’t help it, her eyes flew straight to the two of them and she grinned at Tikki. Tikki loved France. It was perfect for her. She looked back at Luka and nodded. “It’s a date,” she said breathlessly. 

“Wait, what’d you tell her?” Sass demanded, and when Marinette looked over again she had to giggle. Sass looked terrified, just like Luka had been when she’d found the box. 

“Nothing important.” Luka winked at her and she giggled again. He held out his hand, palm up, and she passed the ring—her ring, wow—back to him. “Next time I give this to you it’ll be on purpose,” he promised as he put it back in its box, then bent to press his forehead against hers again. 

“Okay, enough of that,” Sass hissed nervously. “You’re happy, that’s great, come on, let’s go now.” 

Tikki smacked his shoulder lightly, and Marinette watched as his gaze instantly softened when it turned on her. 

“Maybe we should leave,” she suggested, “give them some… space.” As she spoke, she was curling her fingers into the fabric of Sass’s sleeve, hardly being subtle at all. It wasn’t for Marinette’s sake that she was suggesting ‘space.’ Sass got the message and gulped before he nodded dumbly. 

“Yeah, uh, we’ll head out, then. See you at the apartment tomorrow?” 

Luka’s eyes locked on hers. She understood him instantly. Only if she was okay with it. And to her surprise, she absolutely was. She nodded back and his arm that was still around her flexed as he pulled her close to him again and he let out a nervous breath. 

“Yeah, tomorrow,” he answered Sass without taking his eyes away from her. 

She heard the door open and close as they left, but she was kissing Luka again and it didn’t occur to her to say goodbye.  

Translations:

D'accord: OkayBien sûr: Of courseNon, pas du tout, c'est juste que: No, not at all, it's just thattu sais: you know

[wordsablaze]

16~ i’ll be here like you were

tell me your problems (i’ll chase them away) Internal scars can be difficult to deal with but Eskel vows to heal any that Jaskier is weighed down by if it’s the last thing he does…

A/N: it seems june is way too warm for angst so we get even more softness instead...

previous chapter

-

@random-nerd-3 @betaray-jones @w-s-kibela @in-love-with-writing002 @screaming-flapjacks @havenoffandoms @lasaga666 @mayastormborn @alllthequeenshorses @little-piece-of-tamlin @selectivegeekwithstandards

-

It’s not that Eskel had been struggling to maintain their seated positions or anything, it’s just that after Jaskier’s head had fallen into his lap for the second time, he’d decided that moving to the bed was a better idea.

And he’s right, because Jaskier wakes up with a yawn and a very confused noise, followed immediately by a quiet but hopeful, “Why isn’t my neck all stiff?”

“That would be because I moved you,” Eskel replies softly, but not softly enough to avoid Jaskier’s breath hitching as he realises his pillow is in fact a witcher.

Eskel expects the hitch in his breathing to be followed by him springing to his feet or something but Jaskier only yawns again and lets his head flop back down even as he stretches his limbs a little. “How very considerate of you, darling, thank you.”

There is a very very small part of Eskel’s mind that wonders why Jaskier hadn’t called him his darling as opposed to just generally a darling, but that small part is quickly squashed down by the rest of his intelligence reminding him that he really ought not to base his standing with the bard on something as trivial as groggy mumbling.

“Wait, why are you still in bed?” Jaskier asks after a moment.

“I didn’t want to wake you,” Eskel replies honestly.

“But you’re a witcher…”

When Jaskier says nothing more on the matter, Eskel frowns. He runs a hand through Jaskier’s hair - only to push it out of his eyes, of course - before nodding as best as he can whilst lying down. “I wouldn’t want to disturb you even if I were a goat,” he says.

Jaskier snorts, then pulls himself right and tilts his head to the right. “A goat? I can’t say I have much experience with goats but aren’t they more of a violent species?”

“And witchers aren’t?” Eskel asks, raising an eyebrow as he too sits up.

Waving a hand dismissively, Jaskier shrugs. “No more than necessary, of course. It wouldn’t do for a witcher to be incapable of violence, after all, whatever would I sing about in taverns then?”

Eskel hums in agreement but he’s pretty sure Jaskier could sing about something as mundane as apples and still captivate an audience. Speaking of, Jaskier seems to actually realise he’s awake as soon as he mentions singing and is on his feet before Eskel can decide whether or not to voice his thoughts. Ah well, maybe next time.

Turns out watching Jaskier stumble around and assemble himself is just as amusing every time he does it. It’s honestly also a little impressive how quickly he can go from sleepy and only vaguely coherent to more or less professional and composed.

“Well, are you coming?” Jaskier asks once he’s ready and dressed.

Eskel blinks. “Where?”

Jaskier smirks and opens his mouth, pauses, then closes it again. He clears his throat as he gestures towards somewhere through the window. “To the tavern?”

He shakes his head. “I should go check on Scorpion, maybe next time.”

“Of course! Scorpion, right, of course, your noble steed. I’ll just, uh- I mean, alright,” Jaskier replies, waving a goodbye before leaving with his lute in hand.

Eskel only briefly dwells on the feeling that he’s done something wrong before also getting ready, finding himself in the stables and being headbutted by Scorpion before he knows it. He looks around to make sure he’s alone before saying anything just to avoid the air being filled with ash and disappointment again. “Hey, girl. You’ve probably been worried, right? Well, it turns out the bard is more skilled than I’d assumed. But you probably knew that since you both got me back together, huh?”

He narrowly avoids having his foot stepped on.

“What was that for?” he asks incredulously. Scorpion just huffs at him. Then bites at his pockets, which is odd because he didn't actually remember to put any- oh.

“I guess you really won him over,” Eskel says as he offers her the sugarcubes, but now he’s torn between making sure she doesn’t bite his fingers and wondering how Jaskier knew to put treats in his pocket, not to mention how he did so without him noticing.

It’s not difficult to assume that’s a habit creeping in from all the time he’s spent with Geralt; Roach is one of if not the most spoiled horse on the continent. But it is difficult to decide whether he should ask Jaskier about it, whether it would be accepted gratitude or just another painful reminder. In the end, Scorpion finishes her snack before he’s decided, which is a little annoying because he’s usually not so indecisive about anything. Well, Jaskier is hardly just anything so that almost makes sense, but still.

“That’s my epic tale, our champion prevailed. Defeated the villain, now pour him some ale...”

Eskel frowns as he walks into the tavern, immediately looking for Jaskier to see if he’s alright. And surprisingly, he is. Not that Eskel would rather he wasn’t - and in fact he’s very relieved that singing about Posada isn’t causing any problems - but he has no idea how Jaskier suddenly seems more willing to accept that request. Gods, bards are confusing.

“Toss a coin to your witcher, oh valley of plenty!”

And someone does.

Eskel blinks at the little hand dropping a coin onto the table, the little hand that’s attached to a young girl who’s beaming up at him as if he’s saved her entire family or something. “You’re not my witcher but I wanted to give you a coin anyway,” she says loudly.

“Uh, thank you,” Eskel mutters, careful to keep his face angled just enough that he doesn’t scare her away and ruin her smile.

Not that he should have worried, because she very casually frowns at him, picks the coin back up, and pokes his leg. “Do you not like coins?”

He shrugs but politely holds his hand out, letting her firmly place the coin into it and offering her the best smile he can manage because he doesn’t really know why she hasn’t run off to her parents yet. “I do, it’s lovely. Thank you again.”

“Was the monster really scary?” she whisper-asks as she leans forward, her eyes wide and curious.

Eskel knows the women on the table behind him are listening in, he can smell that they’re suspicious of him, but they make no move to interfere so he just shrugs and leans forward too. “It was mostly just ugly,” he whispers.

The girl giggles and rocks back on her heels, shaking her head at him. “Like Uncle Luka?”

“Probably not, unless your Uncle Luka has green skin.”

The girl’s eyes widen again. She pauses as if she genuinely thinks her uncle might have green skin and then shakes her head. “No, he’s just the normal ugly. What kind of green was the monster’s skin?”

He genuinely has no idea how to answer that in a way she’ll easily understand. And thankfully, he doesn’t have to. “The kind of green you see after it’s been raining a lot and all the grass has been squashed into the bottom of a really big puddle,” Jaskier says, kneeling in front of the girl with a soft smile.

“Eww!” she laughs, turning her attention away from Eskel and towards Jaskier, who spares a moment to smile at him before producing a flower from nowhere and holding it up in front of the girl’s nose so she has to go cross-eyed to look at it, laughing harder as she does.

“A daisy for Daisy,” Jaskier whispers, winking at her.

The girl - called Daisy, apparently - all but snatches the flower, then turns on her heel and waves at him. “You can give the coin to your bard if you don’t like it, by the way. Mama says you should give things you don’t like to people who do like them so everyone’s happy.”

Jaskier snorts as she finally leaves and jumps up into someone’s lap a few tables away, but there’s a redness blooming across his cheeks as he slides onto the seat opposite Eskel. And Eskel’s not sure about his own face but he’s pretty sure he looks just as startled because he genuinely had not considered that being called Jaskier’s witcher would lead to Jaskier being called his bard.

“You don’t have to be,” Eskel blurts.

Jasker raises an eyebrow at him. “Be what, darling?”

“My bard.”

Apparently, the sour scent of worry and doubt never gets any easier to deal with. Eskel’s already lost any appetite he may have had by the time Jaskier remembers how to breathe and some of the sourness fizzles away from the air between them, just enough so that it’s not quite overwhelming.

“You don’t like that?” Jaskier asks slowly.

“No, I-” Eskel pauses, confused. “I thought you wouldn’t like it.”

Jaskier blinks at him. Twice. Then he sighs and lets go of his lute, placing it down beside him. “Don’t go anywhere, I need a drink before we have this conversation.”

Well, that sounds terrifying.

His only comfort while he waits for Jaskier to return is that he smells softer and warmer again, which can only mean they’re about to have a useful conversation instead of some kind of argument. Still, his muscles don’t relax until Jaskier places a drink in front of him and smiles, not quite sadly but not exactly happily either - it’s confusing but it’s a nice smile nonetheless.

“I believe you’re under the mistaken assumption that being my witcher is an unrequited belonging?” Jaskier asks eventually, leaning an elbow on the table and resting his chin on his palm.

Eskel shrugs. “Like I said, you’re free to leave whenever you wish.”

Jaskier laughs quietly, his head tilting a little to the right. “And what makes you think there’s anywhere else I’d rather be than by your very handsome side?”

“I just don’t want- I mean, I would hate to quell the adventures you seek,” Eskel admits.

There’s a moment of silence before Jaskier reaches across the table and curls his fingers in a grabbing motion until Eskel frowns and offers him his hand, which he immediately takes and gently squeezes. “Eskel, my darling, you are walking along a very dangerous path somewhere between painfully considerate and painfully foolish. And I should know, for I’ve been told I’m an expert at the latter.”

Eskel laughs before he can think about it and judging by the look in Jaskier’s eyes, that was probably his intention. “You’re not doing too bad right now,” he replies.

Jaskier shrugs. “I might not have lived as long as you but even I’ve been around long enough to learn when I’m overstaying my welcome.” Before Eskel can ask anything about that, Jaskier clears his throat and continues, “Let me explain this another way: name a tale of mine that you particularly enjoy?”

A little blindsided by the question, it takes Eskel a moment to think of what to say. But it’s not a difficult choice; there’s one ballad about a warrior who’d been entrapped by a wraith for days until his beloved had arrived to remind him what he’d miss out on if he succumbed to someone else’s misery that had been stuck in his head for almost an entire year. “The knight in the tower,” he answers.

“Interesting choice,” Jaskier tells him in a way that implies he’s made the right choice, then leans even closer, lowering his voice. “I’m going to let you in on a very small and privileged secret now: I based that entire story on Geralt accidentally locking himself in the wrong stable overnight one time.”

Eskel blinks. Then bursts out laughing. He bites down his amusement as quickly as possible but not before he sets Jaskier off, and it takes several minutes for the bard to stop laughing. Once he has, he grins widely, squeezing Eskel’s hand again. “Do you understand me now? I’m not in desperate need of the adventures you imagine me to be, I only require the slightest of inspiration and I can assure you that your company is more than enough.”

He thinks he does understand, but he also has another pressing concern: “So the knight’s beloved was actually…?”

Jaskier smirks and nods. “Roach.”

Melitele help him, he’s unfamiliar with this pleasant ache of amusement and he’s not sure how he’s lived without it for so long. As soon as they’ve both recovered from laughing, he squeezes Jaskier’s hand back. “I would be honoured if you were to… if you were to be my bard.”

“Luckily for you, then, everyone here already seems to believe I am. And I have no interest in disagreeing with them,” Jaskier says, his voice barely above a whisper.

“And everywhere else?” Eskel asks, just wanting, needing to check he’s understanding this right and not just wishfully extrapolating.

Jaskier shrugs. “I’m a bard , Eskel. I can guarantee you my songs will travel faster than we can and our reputation will precede us wherever we go.”

Eskel chuckles. “You’re placing a lot of faith in your songs, bardling.”

“Wouldn’t you, if you were me?” Jaskier asks, raising his eyebrows, and when he considers the dramatic tale of the wraith that had apparently been built upon nothing but an embarrassing story, Eskel decides he has no reason to argue. Besides, confidence is a good look on practically anyone and Jaskier is no exception so it'd just be rude of him to ruin that for the sake of it.

“Perhaps,” Eskel finally replies with a shrug, but he’s certain the smile that won’t leave his face gives him away. Not that he minds, if he’s honest, because it’s only logical for his bard to be the one who reads between his lines. And oh, what a scarily beautiful notion that is.

-

yes i used a random child to prompt character development, cliché is my middle name ;)

-

thanks for reading! masterlist | witcher sideblog: @itsjaskier | next chapter

[niyes-lahiffe]

Soapy Decks and Flying Underwear

IT’S BAAAACK!!

Ao3

1 | 2

Chapter 3: Markets Hate Pirates

Ok, Nino knew he had just claimed to his entire crew that he would immediately sail to the destination the map led them to, but he realized the longer he looked at it, the less sense it made. Of course he was still beaming as bright as the sun itself, but he went downstairs to see if he could have any better luck in a slightly different environment.

He had been down there for quite a while when he started hearing thumps on the wooden floor above, followed by muffled cheering. His crewmates were certainly having the time of their lives with their excessive celebrating, and their happiness only rekindled the giddy feeling the captain had in his chest. His smile turned into a grin when the trapdoor opened and his best friend came down the steps.

“You should come up and celebrate with us, Nino!” Adrien offered as he took his place before the captain. “Can’t you look away from that map for one second, man?”

“But-“

“No buts, sir, a break will definitely be good for you.” Adrien winked at him, pulling out his sword and using the tip of it to gently lower the map from the captain’s hands. “Kim and Luka are wrestling right now and it’s quite hilarious.”

Nino snickered. “And Luka isn’t a pile of pulp yet?”

“Nope! He’s handling it surprisingly well.” The co-captain leaned against a barrel and his smile turned into a perplexed frown when he looked inside it. “Yo, Cap?”

“What is it, dude?”

“We’re out of oranges.”

Nino stood up abruptly, half-exaggerated, and hissed, “We’re what?”

“Truly unfortunate,” Adrien played along while scratching his chin. “Looks like we’re gonna have to restock.”

Nino placed his fingers to his chin in thought. “Actually, it really has been a while.” He laughed slightly. “We’ve been so caught up in everything that we’ve failed to realize we’re nearly out of everything.”

“It’ll be a good break for you, too,” his best friend agreed. “Wanna give the decks a good clean as I steer us to the market?”

“Ooooh you know I do!”

------------------------------

“Wow, nice parry!” Alya complimented her crewmate as she deftly dodged another one of the attacks from his wooden blunted sword.

“Thanks!” Nathaniel responded happily, proud to be complimented by his captain.

His succession threw him off, however, and he was distracted enough that he was unable to defend himself in time when Alya suddenly dropped to a squat and kicked at his legs, knocking him off balance. He grunted when he fell to the floor and frowned when the tip of Alya’s fake sword pointed at his throat.

“Don’t forget to be prepared for anything, though,” she smirked. Nathaniel huffed but graciously accepted her extended hand to help him back up.

“One day I’ll be as good as you,” he said, patting himself to rid of the dust.

“Maybe,” she teased. Alya glanced around at the rest of her crewmates to observe their fighting tactics, pleased with what she saw. Kagami and Max were definitely her best fighters, and seeing them duel was something else. Everyone else of course battled to the best of their ability, and she was indeed impressed, but it was almost entrancing to watch her two most skilled battlers duel.

“Yo, Captain!” A voice sounded from above, knocking her from her trance. Alya looked up to see Alix poking her head out from her post. When she noticed she had the captain’s attention, she called, “We’re about to pass a local market; wanna stop for a little bit to restock and check out their wares?”

Alya walked to the edge of her ship and looked out to see land up ahead. She nodded and turned back to her lookout. “Sure! Probably is a good idea before we head out to find the Jade Turtle.”

“You got it, Cap!”

Marinette appeared beside Alya and gave the captain her wooden sword. “I can steer us there real quick, if you’d like!”

“Sounds good to me, girl.” Alya smiled as Marinette saluted playfully and went on her way to the steering wheel.  

------------------------------

The moment the boat was parked at a nearby dock, Kim nearly bolted off before Nino was able to get a firm grip of his shoulder. His crewmate looked back at him, perplexed if not a tad miffed.

Nino smirked at him. "I get that you're excited, Kim, but I need you on boat duty, remember?"

"WHAT?!"

"I can't have anyone stealing this boat or anything inside while we're at the market," the captain explained as he folded his arms. He winked and continued before Kim could open his mouth to protest. "You should consider yourself lucky, since I can only rely on someone I know will truly take good care of this ship."

Kim was obviously flustered by the compliment but was still ornery as he folded his arms and turned away.

"Dooon't worry, Kim, you won't be here all day," Nino snickered, and Kim visibly perked. "I'll have Luka take your place after half the day has passed."

Next to him, Luka froze and said, "Wait, what?"

Nino nodded.

"Why can't Luka and I switch spots so I can go now?" Kim objected.

"Kim, you're great but I don't trust you to remember to come back when you should." Adrien and Luka both had a small coughing fit as they laughed while Kim merely smiled and rolled his eyes.

"Eh, you're right," the lookout finally gave in. "You can count on me, Cap."

"Knew I could," Nino grinned, punching the other pirate playfully in the shoulder before he and the rest of his crew marched off the deck and into the already bustling streets of the marketplace.

As much as Nino loved sailing the seas on his beloved vessel, he always forgot how much he loved exploring bits of the land, too. The welcoming sights and smells drew him in and soon he was lost in the crowd. Adrien still tagged along with him, as he usually did, but Nino quickly lost the rest of his crew, though had full confidence that they would return to his boat by the end of the day.

Now, he had time to enjoy this.

Merchants left and right were yelling encouragingly about their wares to the wandering potential customers, the smell of freshly cooked bread and meat filled the air, children were playing game after game, and the streets bustled with energy as everyone moved back and forth between booths.

Nino and Adrien wandered between booths themselves, gawking at the beautiful jewelry that was far too expensive, and laughing at ones that were in odd shapes. A nearby commotion grabbed both of their attentions, and they both knew one of the ornery voices well.

"HEY! How dare you; I had my eye on that comb!" Chloe suddenly barked at the beautiful young woman standing next to her, who seemed to have just purchased an item: a golden, bee-shaped comb, and Chloe apparently wanted it desperately. The other girl may have been pretty, but despite her adorable freckles, bright blue eyes and bobbed haircut, her glare was nearly sharp enough to slice Chloe to pieces, not to mention the sword on her back undoubtedly would do that if the conversation got any more heated.

"Really? Well, I believe I just bought it first. Good luck next time, and good day." Before the other pirate could wander away, Chloe protested loudly and cut into her path, not allowing her to leave. Adrien leaped forward and grabbed Chloe as her sudden rival finally reached for the sword on her back, and Nino noticed a dark-skinned pirate do the same to the other woman with a, "Whoa whoa whoa, Kagami."

"Chloe, please," Adrien begged, pulling his snarling friend closer to him. "I'm sure we can negotiate. Nicely."

Chloe groaned, "Ugh...fine." She took a deep breath. "Can I have the comb." Adrien poked her harshly in the side and she grunted in pain and annoyance. "Please."

Kagami gave her a long, hard look, before finally replying, "What's in it for me?"

"Alright, I've got money." Chloe reached into her satchel and pulled out a wad of cash, leaning forward to give it to the other pirate. "Here."

"Wait." Kagami ignored the money and reached for Chloe's hand, staring intently at the jewelry on her fingers. "I'll give you the comb for this ring."

"Wait, seriously? I'll have you know this ring is very impor-OW!" She growled at Adrien, who had poked her once again. "Fine, FINE. Take the stupid ring!" The blonde pirate pulled the ring off her finger and Kagami gladly gave her the comb for it. Then, they both turned without saying a word and walked off.

Adrien and Nino nodded at each other, satisfied with the exchange as well. Chloe was definitely a lot of work, but Nino was extremely grateful she had a soft spot for Adrien.

------------------------------

"Oh WOW!"

Alya and Marinette stared in surprise at the tiny pirate with short, blond hair and the brightest blue eyes either had ever seen that had approached them.

“Your necklace is so pretty!” she continued, and she blushed when she looked up and noticed their confused yet amused expressions. “OH my bad; I should probably introduce myself.” She giggled. “My name’s Rose!”

Smiling, Alya nodded at her, saying, “Nice to meet you, Rose, I’m-“

“Totally rocking that necklace!!” Rose threw her arms toward her chest giddily as she admired the piece of jewelry. She nearly squealed when she noticed Trixx sitting next to Alya, and she leaned towards the fox excitedly. “Oh my goodness, you have a pet fox, too?! That’s amazing!” Rose reached her arm forward to give Trixx a pat.

Alya lifted a finger quickly. “OH, uh, better be careful, he tends to bite those he doesn’t-“

Trixx accepted Rose’s hand happily and even nuzzled into her arm.

“-know…” Alya lowered her finger as Marinette stared at the smaller pirate in surprise.

Alix suddenly appeared by her crewmates, laughing at the scene before her.

“Oh, Alix, good to see you!” Alya exclaimed. “I’m putting you on fox duty.”

Alix’s smile vanished and her eyes turned incredulous. “WHAT? No way, first boat duty, now this? I’d rather lick a toad!”

As if on command, Trixx, after Rose had said a sweet goodbye, wandered up to Alix and happily wagged his tail at her.

Alya bumped Alix’s shoulder with her own, wiggling her eyebrows. “C’mon, girl, I know you love it.”

“Fine, whatever…” Alix grumbled, though her small smile did not go unnoticed. “Come on, Trixx.” She took off, no doubt intending to cause some more mischief, and the fox followed suit.

“Yo, Rose!” A timid voice from behind sounded. Alya and Marinette turned to see a tall pirate with purple highlights holding up some sort of pink jewel. The girl she called for perked. “Come look at this.”

“Ooooh, coming!” Rose turned back to her new acquaintances and in one breath she said, “It was wonderful to meet you and your fox and I hope you have a good rest of your day, bye!” With that, she took off, leaving a smiling Marinette and Alya to shake their heads fondly.

“That has got to be the most adorable pirate I’ve ever met,” Marinette quipped.

“Speaking of adorable…” Alya felt a smirk steadily growing, peering at her best friend mischievously. “Maybe coming here if the perfect chance to find a cute man for you!”

Marinette’s cheeks turned bright red and she stiffened. “WHAT?”

“Girl, you’re always complaining about being single! Now’s your chance!” as Marinette became a blubbering mess, Alya took a second to look around. “Look, there’s a cute one right there!” she pointed towards a tall, good-looking man with long, blonde hair a few yards away, happily  chatting with a darker-skinned friend of his.

The only response Marinette was able to make was a mortified garble, and Alya turned to find her friend’s face buried in her hands.

The captain took Marinette’s hands and lowered them, and when she looked up with uncertainty, Alya winked cheekily. “You’ll thank me later.” Without any further warning, She grabbed Marinette’s arm and threw her at the boy.

Much to Alya’s delight, Marinette stumbled right into him. Clearly surprised, he placed his hands on her elbows for support and gave the girl a peculiar look.

“I’M-You’re- PRETTY! I-I mean uh! I’m pretty sorry! I’m just...super clumsy…ha…” Marinette managed to stutter out.

The boy blinked a few times before he smiled like the sun. “Oh, it’s no worries at all, m’lady!” He bowed and kissed her hand, giving her a wink when he looked back up.

Marinette looked like she was about to explode.

Alya stood next to the other boy this flirt was talking with before and said, “Wow, I almost regret doing that.”

“Dude…Adrien’s a hopeless sap but I’ve never seen him that romantic before.” The pirate beside her shook his head while laughing softly. “Boy’s suddenly got it bad.”

“So does Marinette.” Though her face was still redder than a cherry, Marinette was clearly very happy with Adrien’s actions and she was giggling up a storm. “I feel SICK.”

“Maybe we should leave them to themselves for a bit,” the other boy suggested. She nodded and together they turned and pushed themselves through crowds a ways away. When they decided to stop in a fairly secluded area, accompanied by a few chairs and booths that weren’t as popular as the others, he turned to Alya and looked her up and down with a small smile. “Name’s Nino, by the way.” He held out his hand.

“Alya,” she replied, giving him a smirk of her own and her hand to shake firmly. She glanced at his back at said, “Is that a mandolin I see, pretty boy?”

“It is indeed.” Nino pulled the instrument off his back and gave it a few playful plucks. “Why are you interested in this?”

“I just want to see how good you are with music,” Alya said. She pulled her own lute from her pouch pocket and twirled it between her fingers, giving her new companion a wink.

His golden eyes grew challenging. “I’ll only show you my… incredible skills if you show me yours.”

She threw him a look just as determined. “But of course!”

------------------------------

To say Kim was ecstatic to finally be off boat duty was an understatement. The moment Luka arrived to swap places, Kim nearly created smoke behind with how quickly he dashed off, but it made his crewmate laugh hysterically nonetheless.

Nino and Alya both watched as Kim ran up to a booth selling bread. The look-out grabbed an entire loaf and nearly shoved the whole thing into his mouth, but Chloe snatched it from his hands before he could do so and whacked it upon the top of his head.

"Kim, you brute!" she scolded. "You know you need to pay for that!"

Nino was nearly beaming with sudden pride.

"But I'm a pirate!" The captain nearly laughed at Kim's sudden puppy dog pout.

"That is no excuse. You have money in that wallet and I know it."

A short, pink-haired spunky-looking pirate walked by Kim and waved his beloved wallet in the air. "Yeah, there's tons of money in this. Better keep a close eye on it so no one, say... snatches it." Her smug smile and Kim's dumbfounded face and intense patting of his rear to make sure his wallet was actually gone made Nino snort. Beside him Alya snickered, as well.

"Wh-HEY! You get back here, you punk!" And just like that, they both were gone in a flash.

Nino thought he might've seen something orange chase after them, as well, but the moment he blinked his eyes and squinted to make sure, it was gone.

------------------------------

As the sky began to turn a brilliant shade of pink and orange, Alya playfully bumped shoulders with her companion as she put her instrument away, and he soon followed suit.

"Thanks for the fun time," he chided. "We were so good that that one couple gave us a tip!"

She rolled her eyes playfully. "Ivan and Mylene give tips to just about anyone." She looked back at him. "But still, I clearly was better than you."

He faked a pout. There was just something about this woman that really brought out his competitive side. "I'd beg to differ."

Alya scoffed at him. "If you keep talking, you'll be begging, alright."  As Nino blinked a few times at her, she began to walk away, clearly putting a significant sway in her hips as she went. "My companions and I have an important journey to prepare for."

She stopped in her tracks and turned her head with a small smile. "Hopefully, our paths will cross again."

Nino nodded in agreement and made sure to add a quick wink before she looked away. She simply laughed at him as she continued her jaunt away, and Nino caught himself smiling brightly.

Wait.

Was that a fox that just leaped onto her shoulders?

Nino quickly rubbed his eyes and leaned forward to get a better look, but Alya was long lost in the sudden crowd.

What was he doing? He couldn't keep his mind occupied on that. His crew had a mission to fulfill. Nino headed back to his boat, the excitement about what was to come already invigorating his entire spirit. This was finally something the Coral Crew couldn't butt their nosy lives into. This was finally something only he and his crew would enjoy.

[zekroudon]

The Song of our Hearts (Lukadrien June 2020)

Day 15: Home

@lukadrien-june

After a good night of sleep, Adrien wakes up and spends a lovely morning with his boyfriend. Follow-up to yesterday (day 14) and day 8's prompts. You can read it on Ao3 here.

Eyes closed, I listen to my boyfriend’s slow breath as he sleeps. His bare chest heaves behind me as I’m still buried with him in his shirt. His arms hug me tenderly under the blankets. His smell fills everything around me and I feel safe. The low rumble of Plagg’s purrs echoes in the bedroom from his spot on the pillow. The river’s water swashing against the Liberty’s shell mixed with my kwami’s purrs lull me back to sleep as I bury myself deeper into my boyfriend’s warmth. 

I slowly reopen my eyes and realize that Luka and the Kwamis are gone. Panicking, I bring my hand to my eyes to see that the ring is still on my finger. Voices are whispering in another room, probably the kitchen. There’s also the sound of something cooking and being fried in a pan. The smell of eggs and cheese fills the room. I rub my eyes and sit up, pushing the blankets away. My Viperion and Chat Noir plushies roll to the ground. How are they here? I didn’t take them as we… No, not now. Today is a happy day. I hiss as my feet hit the cold floor, but I sleepily make my way to the kitchen.

Luka is standing next to the stoves with an apron covering his shirtless torso. I realize I’m wearing his pajama shirt over the one I borrowed him yesterday, it reaches my mid-thighs and my arms look like needles in the sleeves. He’s cooking eggs and pancakes. Plagg is swallowing a piece of camembert as Sass bites a boiled egg. When he sees me, my kwami pounces on me and curls himself into my hair.

"You’re up! I slept so well, the dreams of my sweet camembert famished me! Keep him, he knows how to feed me! - I just gave you the camembert Ladybug brought this morning, answers my boyfriend turning around."

He looks at me with so much love in his eyes, my cheeks grow incredibly warm. He walks to me and kisses me on the lips before guiding me to the stove. He hugs me with one arm while he flips the eggs with the other one. He kisses me again, but this time on the forehead.

" Where is everyone? Shouldn’t Juleka and your mother be here? - Jules’ with Rose and Mom went with Ladybug to the police station. - Oh, I should go too, I’m still Chat Noir… - Not today, you have the day off with Nino. Mari brought other clothes she made for you and apparently Chloe wants to bring you shopping in the next few days. - It’s really nice of them… - Mari brought croissants and macarons too. Passion fruit, your favorites. - I’ll have to thank her…"

He silences me with another kiss before taking two plates out of the kitchen cabinet. He lays them on the counter and fills them with food. I take a box of croissants and open it, their warmth reaching my fingers through the cardboard. I place it on the table and sit on one of the chairs as Luka arrives with the plates. He then takes off his apron, revealing his bare chest. I may be the model, but he could give me a run for my money. Must help not having your diet controlled to the last grain of salt…

He sits next to me and we start eating. My chef’s meals may have been more impressive, but they weren’t filled with love. I slowly eat bite by bite to savor everything, even if it’s simply an egg with a pancake. Somehow, it feels weird, yet comforting to not be in a rush to eat to get to a photoshoot or something. Without a schedule, I don’t know what tomorrow or the day after will bring and it feels nice.

Well, the near future will be filled with trials, interviews getting chased, and looked at wherever I go but wasn’t it already my life? Having every one looking at me for something I didn’t do? I didn’t design the clothes, made my makeup or that stupid perfume, or styled my hair. The only thing I did is save Paris on daily from my own father���

I hope… I know that my friends will stay by my side no matter what.

Once we’re done eating, Luka places the dishes into the sink and leads me to the couch. He gestures for me to sit on his lap and he kisses my cheek when I do. His lips slowly move from my cheek to my lips as he locks his arm around me. He smiles and kisses my forehead.

"I love you so much, Adrien… - I love you too, Luka. - I won’t leave you, none of us will. - I know, I’m home now, I answer as I kiss him back."

I am home in his arms.

[evalinkatrineberg]

Practice Prompt 1 - Part 2!

I could hardly focus the day that the Selected girls were to be announced on The Report. From the moment I had woken up that morning, the first rays of sunlight peeking through the periwinkle curtains that covered my bedroom window, the only thing on my mind had been the question of whether or not I would be Selected. I went through my normal morning routine in an almost zombie-like state, trading my bedclothes for a t-shirt and shorts, and brushing my hair back into a ponytail without even thinking. It was always kind of like a game, creeping out of my bedroom as quietly as I could. I cast a quick glance over my shoulder at Lydia, who was still sound asleep. In a few short seconds, the bedroom door was closed behind me, and I was down the stairs, grabbing my keys and tugging on my sneakers before sneaking out the front door.

Lukas and June were already waiting for me at the end of my driveway. “Sleeping in today, I see,” Lukas commented, the corners of his lips tugging upwards in a small smile.

“Sorry,” was my only reply as the three of us set off on our morning run. It had been our routine for a few years now. At first, it had only been me and June. Being next door neighbors and classmates, it had been easy for us to coordinate a time to get out and run together, seeing as we had been on almost identical schedules our entire lives. Running had been something that we had decided to take up the spring of our sophomore year of high school, and we’d continued that tradition into college, having both committed to the same university.

When I had met Lukas in my freshman physics lab my first semester of college and mentioned that I enjoyed running during an icebreaker, he had instantly asked if he might be able to join us on our morning runs. Apparently, he had run on his high school’s track team, although he never pushed me and June’s pace, despite having more experience than us. Once we found out that he was leasing a basement apartment in a house two blocks over from the street June and I lived on, it had been a no-brainer to us that he should join our group. We had expected it to be back to just June and I for the summer, but apparently Lukas was hanging around to take some extra classes.

The three of us didn’t speak as we made for the park on the edge of our neighborhood, a beautiful, scenic forest with a babbling creek and a network of well-maintained dirt paths. The only sounds were our feet pounding the ground and our heavy breathing, mixed with the early-morning chirps of the birds hidden in the trees. Already, the air was starting to get a little steamy as the humidity of the daytime began to settle in, a slight fog lifting off the creek that meandered on the left side of the trail we always began our run on.

A new sound broke through the air. The buzzing of Lukas’s watch, signalling that we had completed a mile, was accompanied with a heavy exhale from him. Shortly after, he asked, “So, is there any particular reason you’re pushing the pace today, Evalin?”

I frowned, not slowing as I cast a quick look at him over my shoulder. “What was our first mile split?”

“Six minutes, fifty-five seconds.” His words were steady, but his voice was slightly more airy than usual.

“Damn,” June panted. It sounded like just saying that one word took a monumental effort on her part.  

“Sorry,” I responded. Two apologies today already, and it wasn’t even seven in the morning yet. That had to be a new record for me. “I’m just a little lost in thought. I didn’t realize how fast we were going.”

“Are you thinking about the Report tonight?” I could practically hear June’s teasing smile in her voice. “You know, I entered the Selection, too, and you don’t see me literally running myself ragged over it.”

“You are keeping pace with us,” Lukas pointed out, “so aren’t you technically doing the same exact thing as Evalin?”

“Och,” was June’s only reply as she audibly hit Lukas with the back of her hand.

“I truly don’t understand why you two even entered anyway.” Lukas sighed as we made a turn to the left, taking us over a small wooden bridge that crossed the creek. “It’s just a glorified beauty pageant, and, no offense, neither of you are really pageant girls.”

“Are you insinuating that we’re not drop-dead gorgeous?” The offense in June’s voice may have been faked, but the edge on her words was anything but. She had never been afraid to start a fight, even when we were children. Back then, if she saw someone being pushed around on the playground, she was the first person to fight for them, often resulting in her coming home dirty and bruised. Her parents always bemoaned how unbecoming her behavior was for a Three, but I had always admired the way that June was totally unafraid to stand up for what she believed in. It was for that reason that I wasn’t entirely surprised when she told me that she was planning on pursuing nursing in college. Her love of other people, and her genuine desire to help those in need would make her a great nurse, in my opinion.

Lukas sighed again as we made another left turn, bringing us to a winding trail that would eventually lead us back to the same entry point we had used to get into the park. “It’s just that you’re both booksmart, not very people smart.”

I raised an eyebrow, despite the fact that I knew he couldn’t see it.

As if he sensed it, he continued. “June would probably get into a fight with someone within the first five minutes of being at the palace, and Evalin is too damn nice for her own good. She’d get eaten up alive by all the politicians and schemers in Angeles.”

“What’s wrong with being nice?” I frowned, the sound of my heartbeat racing in my ears. Maybe he was right. Had I been foolish to enter in the Selection? I had never been particularly politically savvy. I could certainly research more about political science and Illean history, sure. In fact, I had begun to do some research in the days after submitting my Selection application, although I hadn’t brought it up in conversation. I found political theory interesting, but applying it to what I observed on the news was more challenging than I had anticipated. There was nothing wrong with a good challenge, though. I kind of enjoyed having something new to push me out of my comfort zone.

“Nothing, normally,” Lukas answered, “but politicians don’t play nice.”

June snorted. “Thank you, Captain Obvious.”

“June would be perfect if she was Selected, then.” I shot her a look over my right shoulder, only to find her matching my own grin. Her dark eyes sparkled as the light hit them, complimenting her downright radiant features perfectly. June would be an ideal candidate to be Selected, truth be told. She was passionate, strong, and simply stunning in appearance. Despite her habit of getting into fights as a child, her dark skin didn’t display a single flaw now, and her curly hair seemed to just bounce with joy and enthusiasm.

“Hey, listen, I follow the golden rule!” Her footsteps were a steady beat just behind me as we hit the pavement again. “I treat others the way they treat others!”

Lukas barked out a laugh as I replied, “Mmm, I don’t quite think that’s it.”

“I know,” she answered. “I improved it!”

On the horizon, my house was beginning to come into view. Even from a distance, I could see that me father’s car was no longer in our driveway. He must have left for work early this morning, then. Usually, I was able to run, shower, and drink at least one cup of coffee before he was telling me to grab my bag and get out the door so he wasn’t late. My mom’s beige car was still in the driveway, though. It wasn’t an old car, but it was modelled after a style of classic car that my grandfather had often gushed about, according to my mother. It was originally one of the gifts my father had given my mother’s parents after he had asked them for their blessing to marry my mother. My grandfather had always insisted that the gift was excessive, and that my father shouldn’t try to buy my mother’s hand in marriage, but my grandfather had kept the car anyway. When he passed away five years ago, he left the car to my mother in his will.

“Oh, by the way,” I began, slowing as we reached the edge of June’s driveway, “my mother took the day off from work today, and is planning a big brunch. You two should definitely come over, if you can.”

“Thanks for the invite, but I desperately need to shower, thanks to someone -” she glared pointedly at me, smiling nonetheless “-setting a killer pace this morning.”

I looked down at my own shirt, which was soaked through. “I should probably do the same.” June just laughed as I added, “I’ll see you later, then.”

“Until tomorrow,” Lukas agreed with a wave, jogging off down the street before disappearing around the corner.

I was tempted to yell after him, to ask him if he really thought that I wouldn’t last if I was one of the Selected. I didn’t know why his opinion mattered so much to me. It wasn’t as if he had any experience in the palace, or was studying anything related to politics. His opinion shouldn’t mean too much, shouldn’t mean anything, and yet, I was one second away from calling out his name.

It was too late, though. Short of chasing after him, I wouldn’t be able to get his attention now. With a sigh, I began making my way up my own driveway and then on to the porch. I untied my shoes before unlocking the front door, placing my shoes on the shoe rack and following the smell of cinnamon and coffee to the kitchen. It appeared that my mother was planning a full on feast for brunch, complete with french toast, eggs, and even bacon. The hiss of the gas stove and the purr of the coffee machine was practically a symphony to my ears as I placed my keys on the counter, reaching up to pull a glass out of the cabinet above the sink.

“It’s a hot one today, isn’t it?” It was more of a statement than a question. My mother leaned against the counter opposite of the stove, arms crossed as she eyed my sweaty clothing up and down.

“Don’t worry, I’m going to shower,” I assured her, “as soon as I have a few sips of water.”

“No rush,” she replied, laughing slightly. “Are you excited for tonight?”

I bit my lip, taking a few seconds to stop and sip some water before responding. “I’m kind of excitedly nervous.” I frowned, placing my now empty glass in the sink. “Does that make sense? I feel like I shouldn’t be nervous, because there’s tons of women in Carolina who have a better shot than I do, but I also don’t want to completely count myself out.”

“That makes sense.” My mother moved over to the stove now, glancing over at me as she flipped the french toast. “I think you have a good shot, but we’ll just have to wait and see. Just like everybody else.” As she spoke the last few words, she poked the tip of my nose, smiling warmly before turning back to the food on the stove. “Now, please go shower!”

I laughed and rolled my eyes in mock exasperation. “Aye-aye, captain!”

When I had finally made my way up the stairs and into my bedroom, I found that Lydia was somehow still asleep. I didn’t understand how she could stay in bed so long. If I wasn’t up by eight in the morning, at the absolute latest, I felt like I didn’t have enough time in the day to get everything I needed to do that day done.

Even as I grabbed my outfit for the day out of my dresser - a pair of loose-fitting, light wash jeans, along with a beige button-up shirt - and made my way into the bathroom at the end of the hallway, I couldn’t help but run through all the possible outcomes of the night. More likely than not, my name would not be called, and life would continue on as normal. As much as I didn’t want to admit it, this would be a pretty upsetting outcome. I had definitely been letting myself get my hopes up. It would suck if all my daydreaming was squashed in one fell swoop tonight, but I would get over it. I’d have to. In that scenario, I’d have to be able to get myself back into my normal routine. I could not afford to put my entire life on hold for one ruined fantasy.

A slight deviation on that scenario was if they didn’t call my name, but if they did call June’s, or anybody who I knew, for that matter. I pondered that outcome further as the hot water of the shower rolled down my back and caused the bathroom to fog up around me. If that was the case, if June got called, I would likely be happier for her than I would be sad for myself. June deserved it, as did many other girls I had met throughout my life. Even being able to say that I was friends with one of the Selected girls would be pretty cool. Plus, knowing June, I was sure she would fill me in on all the inside drama without me having to be involved in it myself.

The last outcome I could conceive of, and the one I least wanted to think about, was one where my name was called. The possibility of that even happening seemed so far removed from reality that it was hard to determine how I would even feel in the event that it happened. I’d definitely be excited, that was certain, but the implications of being Selected loomed on the horizon like a dark cloud. It would be amazing to finally leave my hometown and see more of Illea, but I’d miss my family and friends dearly. Being Selected would also mean putting my education on hold, which would likely prove a challenge for me, since being into biology had been basically a quarter of my personality since I was six years old.

I wasn’t even sure what I would say or do if I ever got the opportunity to meet and speak to the prince. I mean, we practically lived in different worlds - what could we possibly talk about? I knew that he had studied political science at Angeles University, but my own knowledge of political science was still, rather embarrassingly, limited. Other than that, most of what I knew about him came from the media. I had heard about his engagement to Evie Waldia, and the subsequent breaking off of the engagement. Beyond that, the only thing I knew was that he was a pretty handsome guy. Honestly, I’d probably be able to make better conversation with Princess Safiya, since she was studying to go to medical school. At least we’d probably be able to commiserate over some science and math courses.

I need a personality outside of schoolwork. I shook my head, shutting off the water and wringing out my head before grabbing my towel off the rack that was nailed to the wall just to the right of the shower. What was I even in to, besides science? I liked looking at the stars, which was still kind of science related, but it was a start. I wondered if you could see the stars from the palace, or if the light pollution there blotted them out?

I liked to read, and to run, both of which were pretty generic hobbies, but that fact would hopefully only make it more likely that we could find some common ground around them. I had also often dreamed about being a ballerina when I was about five years old, and even now I still found watching ballets performed on stage an incredibly emotional experience, in a positive manner. If nothing else, maybe we would be able to talk about music.

It appeared I would really have to undergo a journey of self-discovery if my name was in fact called tonight. Perhaps that was for the better, though. Maybe it was time for me to branch out a little.

By the time I made it downstairs, my brothers were already seated around the table, silent save for Gabriel, who was talking about one thing or another he had heard on the news last night. Lydia had also made her way downstairs, though she was still in her pajamas.

“I’m just saying,” Gabriel proclaimed, raising his hands in the air in mock surrender. “The timing of this Selection just seems a little too quick to me! I’m having a hard time believing that this wasn’t a purely political decision.” He looked around the table at my siblings’ faces, but nobody met his gaze. Randall and Sam both looked down at the table, and Lydia just yawned and looked out the window.

“Come on,” he tried again, “I can’t be the only one that thinks this.”

“He has to know what he’s doing, in having a Selection,” I argued, taking up my usual seat next to Lydia. “I’m sure this wasn’t a decision anyone made lightly.” Though, Gabriel did have a point. The turnaround between the prince breaking off his engagement and the announcement of the Selection was rather fast. I wasn’t entirely convinced he was over Evie yet, if I was being honest. Breakups weren’t an easy thing to get over, especially when the people involved had been together for a long time. Ultimately, though, it was the prince’s decision to make.

“I just don’t get it, though,” Gabriel continued. “If I had just broken up with my girlfriend, the last thing I would want was thirty-five girls that were ready to fight over my heart coming into my home.”

“Well, it’s good that you’re not the prince, then,” I retorted. He rolled his eyes at me, and I stuck my tongue out at him in return. Typical mornings in our household always consisted of this kind of bickering. It was hard to avoid in a house with five kids.

“You’re only saying that because you want the prince to fall in love with you.” He crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair, turning his head to look at her mother, who carried an assortment of jams and butter in her arms.

As I leapt up to help her get the rest of the food from the kitchen, I snapped back at him, “So what if I do? Is it so horrible of me to want to fall in love?”

“No,” he answered, rolling his head back to look at the ceiling, “but there are so many other times and places for you to fall in love! I don’t get why you’re willing to put your whole life on hold for a man who’s probably only looking for a rebound!”

“I don’t even get why it matters to you!” I placed the serving plate of bacon I had been holding down on the table harder than I had intended, wincing at the loud sound made by the collision of the two objects. “It’s not like you’re the one who entered the Selection! Besides, the chances of my name even being called are few and far between, so there’s no need for you to go and get your knickers in a knot over the possibility of me being played!”

“If this is how you’re all behaving in the morning, I am not looking forward to seeing what you’re going to be like during the Report tonight.” Satisfied that all the food was on the table, my mother had taken her usual seat to the right of the head of the table, and was looking at all of us expectantly.

“All of you better be quiet tonight,” Lydia stated, serving herself some french toast. “I want to hear everything that’s said on the Report.”

Much of the rest of the day from that point forward was a blur. We all ate brunch, and then attempted to go about our day as usual, but, for the most part, we all failed miserably. My mother, who would have normally been at work at one of the city high schools, where she taught music theory, had taken the day off from work, and instead spent most of the day looking out the front window at the driveway and twisting her wedding ring around her finger. Lydia had started out the day by filling out job applications, but had abandoned that at some point to go bake chocolate chip cookies instead. Gabriel kept finding excuses to leave the house, citing the need to purchase random items, like soap or paperclips, claiming that he hadn’t realized he had run out of until that very moment. I was half tempted to join him, but also didn’t want to get into another argument.

Randall and Sam had warned me not to go upstairs, stating that they were getting retribution for the gnome prank Lydia had played on them a few weeks earlier. Lydia’s prank had been harmless, really. I didn’t even think she realized how easily the glitter that coated the miniature gnome statues she had purchased would rub off on the boys’ bedspreads, or that it wouldn’t come out in the wash either. Regardless, I didn’t bother arguing with the boys, and instead opted just to grab a book and head somewhere else.

I found myself sitting on the back deck, attempting to read, but really just staring at the same few pages, completely unable to focus. I was on the verge of giving up and going for another run when I heard the back door slide open behind me, and turned to find Randall sticking his head out, an impish grin plastered on his face. “Dad’s home,” he announced. Then, in a quieter voice, he added, “and my work is complete. Don’t worry, I didn’t touch your bed!” With a wink, he was gone, vanishing back inside the house.

I followed him inside, frowning at my watch. It was already seven thirty in the evening. How could time have gone by so quickly, when it felt like it was dragging? More importantly, why had my father spent nearly twelve hours at work?

My second question, at least, was answered rather quickly, by the array of desserts that now lined our kitchen table. Alongside a plate of the cookies Lydia had baked earlier were various flavors of ice cream, along with a box of lemon tarts from my favorite bakery in town. He must have left work early to pick all of this up. I blinked at the display, as if it was a mirage that would simply vanish before my eyes, as I placed my book on the very edge of the table.

“I thought it might be nice to have a special treat while we watched the Report tonight,” my father said in way of explanation, offering me a small smile.

“Thank you,” was all I managed in reply, still a little disoriented by the fact that it was somehow seven thirty, and the Report was going to begin in half an hour.

Only half an hour until I could stop obsessing over all these what-ifs. I could do this.

I grabbed a plate off the table and placed two lemon tarts on it, before wandering off into the living room, and curling up on the corner of the couch. Slowly, the rest of my family trickled in as well, my father stopping to turn on the TV before taking a seat next to my mother on the end of the u-shaped couch closest to the TV.

My mother frowned as she looked over at me. “You look a little red, Ev.”

“Sorry, I lost track of time when I was outside earlier.” With any luck, even if I was burnt, it would fade in a few days, leaving me with even more freckles than before, but otherwise unaffected.

“Make sure you rub some aloe on it before you go to bed,” she advised absently, turning back to whatever was playing on the TV.

I could hardly hear whatever was being said on the television over the beating of my own heart in my ears. This was it. These could be the final moments before my life was changed forever. Or, more likely than not, I was getting myself all worked up over absolutely nothing, and would kick myself for it later. I needed to relax. I needed this to be a normal night, where Lydia would throw popcorn at Sam when our parents weren’t looking, or where Gavin would jokingly argue with our father about how chemistry was superior to biology. Relaxing was easier said than done, though, when nobody around me was relaxed.

So I resigned myself to creating my own sense of normalcy. “Should I be afraid to try one of your cookies, Lydia? Am I going to bite into one and find out it’s filled with toothpaste?”

“Shhh,” she hissed, a smile spreading over her face, “that’s the secret ingredient!”

“Is that why Gabriel went to the store so many times today?” Sam must have caught on to what I was trying to do. “You traitor!”

“I didn’t buy for one second that you desperately needed paperclips at eleven o’clock in the morning!” I pointed my finger at my oldest brother, who was already rolling his eyes.

“He bought you paperclips to help you hold your life together, Evalin,” Lydia supplied, punctuating her sentence with a spoonful of rocky road ice cream.

“Harsh,” I yelled, slapping my sister gently on her arm with the back of my hand. She nudged me with her foot in return. “But for your information, my life needs binder clips to hold it together, in the very least. There’s too much going on for paperclips.”

That was an outright lie, and I was pretty sure we all knew it, too. My life was about as average and boring as they come, and would continue to be that way, when my name wasn’t announced for the Selection. What surprised me was the fact that I was kind of bothered by that. I had always thought that I was very content, happy even, with my life, and yet, I couldn’t help but feel a little sad at the thought of this little bit of excitement, the disruption of my routine, ending so soon.

“Maybe he should’ve gotten a stapler instead,” Randall interjected. “That way he could pin you down here instead.”

“Well, if he wanted to pin me down, he should’ve gone with thumbtacks,” I retorted, narrowing my eyes at my youngest brother. “Come on, this is basic office supply knowledge!”

With a shake of his head, Gavin stood up, walking back to the dining room for another scoop of ice cream. “Sorry, I failed Intro to Office Supplies my freshman year.”

“That explains how sloppy your notes are,” I called after him, twisting slightly to see if he would react in any way. Much to my disappointment, he did not.

“At least he knows a bobby-pin isn’t something you can use on a corkboard,” Lydia offered, flashing a half smile in my direction before turning her attention back to the TV. Any second now, the announcements would begin. Any moment, names and pictures would start flashing across the screen. Lydia practically pushed Gavin out of the way of the TV as he returned to the living room, not wanting to miss even one second of the broadcast.

I couldn’t blame her. For once, I felt the same way. At least we didn’t live in a province close to the end of the alphabet, like Waverly. Carolina would come to pass pretty quickly. It would all be over in a matter of seconds.

A part of me really hoped that it would be June’s name and picture that flashed across the screen. Her being Selected seemed like the perfect compromise between the nerves of actually being Selected myself, and the disappointment of not being Selected at all. The second hand accounts of palace life I would undoubtedly receive from her would be wonderful. I’d miss having her as my running buddy, sure, but she’d make a great Lady, and I’d still have Lukas. He could help me analyze her letters while we ran.

“They’re starting,” Lydia screamed, hitting my arm repeatedly.

Indeed, the first provinces were being announced. First was a girl from Allens, named Idalia. She was absolutely stunning, with dark hair and a friendly face. I swallowed. Winning the prince’s heart was definitely not going to be an easy endeavor for any of the Selected with competition like this.

The announcer continued. “From Angeles, Emily Rose White!”

“Wasn’t she in that movie,” my mother began, only to be cut off by shushing noises from Lydia.

“From Atlin, Alaina Achilles!” The name sounded familiar enough to me, but I couldn’t quite place it. I didn’t let it bother me. I was sure that Lydia would start researching information about all of the contestants as soon as they were announced, anyway.

“From Baffin, Celine Montclair! From Bankston, Sage Copeland! From Belcourt, Violet Kensington III! From Bonita, Itzel Bree Morales! From Calgary, Clemence Westley!”

More and more pictures flashed across the screen, but I barely registered them. My heart couldn’t seem to decide whether it wanted to beat as fast as it could, or simply stop beating all together. Time stopped and started over and over, my stomach rolling like waves in the ocean as the names continued. The next one was Carolina. The next one.

“From Carolina -”

Please say June Iscariot. Please say June Iscariot. Please say June Iscariot.

“Evalin Berg!”

I dropped the plate with my untouched lemon tarts on it. The sound of it shattering was the only sound in the room, save for the continuing voice of the announcer on the television, as a picture of me flashed on the screen. It looked like the picture was taken when I was still in my mother’s car, the day we had dropped my application off. They had taken our pictures when we were inside, but I guessed they must have had more photographers snapping shots of the potential girls outside as well.

It wasn’t a bad picture of me, but certainly not my favorite. My hair was pulled back into a low ponytail, and frizzy as all hell, thanks to the humidity. I had on makeup, at least, but I hadn’t yet taken off my glasses, as I normally would for pictures. The clunky frames took up a good portion of my face, and usually didn’t photograph well. In the photo, I was looking off to something on my right, maybe analyzing the length of the line outside of the Services Office, my eyes wide and my lips slightly parted. If anything, I looked nervous. Why would they choose me with a picture like this?

Lydia was the first to react, leaping to her feet on the couch, literally jumping as she screamed and looked down at me.

“I,” I began, not quite sure what to say. The chances of this happening had been slim to none. “I’m sorry about the plate! I’ll go get the broom, and clean it up!”

“I’ve got it.” My father stopped me in my tracks with a wave of his hand, slowly pushing himself off the couch and towards the coat closet by the front door, where we kept the cleaning supplies.

There was a frantic banging on the front door, and my dad repeated, “I’ll get it!”

I jumped up the moment I heard June’s voice echo through my house. I walked slowly at first, avoiding the mess of plate shards and lemon tart I had created on the floor, and after clearing that, practically bounded to the door. The moment she saw me, June raced through the doorway and crushed me with a hug, beaming at me once we had broken apart. Her parents lingered in the doorway, smiling politely at the two of us.

“Would you like to come in?” I gestured vaguely in the direction of the living room. “We have ice cream and lemon tarts, and cookies that might be filled with toothpaste.” My heart was still racing, and I knew that my eyes were wide and my hair absolutely wild, curls falling into my face every time I moved, but June’s parents didn’t mention it as they thanked me and made their way inside.

“So, how does it feel, Lady Evalin?” June’s eyes were alight with excitement, and her tone rife with teasing.

“Fake.” No, wrong synonym. “Unreal,” I corrected, shaking my head. “Like, I’m a bio major from Knoxville, Carolina! I’m nobody! How the hell did I get Selected alongside the likes of Emily Rose White?”

“And Ava Jones,” Lydia added, shouting from the living room.

“The pop star?” I asked as June and I made our way towards the living room.

“The very same,” Lydia confirmed. “Along with that actress, Saxon Monroe - the one who played Lydia in Pride and Prejudice.”

“How am I supposed to compete with people like that?” My mind was completely blank, even as everyone around me was a buzz of conversation. It was like I was on autopilot, like my mind had overloaded and shut down, leaving me to flounder my way through these next few hours. Or maybe days. Or weeks. Months, even.

“Don’t compete,” June stated, placing one of her hands on each of my shoulders. “Just do what you do best - be yourself.”

I wanted to ask how I could possibly be myself at a time like this, but my mouth couldn’t form the words.

“Listen, I think my parents are calling me to go back home with them, but I’ll see you tomorrow morning, okay?” I nodded, and June smiled before walking back towards the front door.

I turned to look back at Lydia. “I think I need to shower again. And sleep. Definitely sleep.”

“You’re a mess,” she replied with a laugh, standing up and setting her now empty bowl on the coffee table.

“Yes.” My mind was finally returning to the present, the cogs and gears slowly starting to spin again. “I just need time to process this.”

“That’s understandable.” I felt her arm around my shoulders, guiding me towards the staircase. “It’s not just every day that your childhood dream becomes a reality.”

I just nodded, trudging up the stairs, feeling like blocks of lead were tied to my feet. This was exciting news, and I was excited, but I also had no clue what to do. I had spent my entire life preparing for college, and a career - not for actually getting the chance to meet the prince of Illea, and possibly even fall in love with him. What would he think of me? Probably not much, if I was to be honest.

“Thank you,” I whispered as Lydia pulled open the door. What I saw next was almost as unexpected as hearing my name announced on the TV about an hour earlier.

Slices of bread covered our the floor of our room, our dressers, the desk, and Lydia’s bed, interlocked and connected like pieces of a puzzle. It would take forever to clean up all the crumbs left by the bread, even after we picked up the slices themselves. True to his word, however, Randall had left my bed untouched. Sleep would be unhindered by breadcrumbs, if nothing else.

This was not what I needed tonight.

“I’m going to kill them,” Lydia decided, kicking aside some of the bread with her foot.

“Just collect the ants attracted to our room by the breadcrumbs and release them in the boys’ room,” I suggested, yawning as I pushed aside more bread so I could get my bedclothes out from my dresser.

“What?”

“Nothing,” I amended, waving her off. “I’m going to shower, and then to bed.” I tossed one last look over my shoulder in her direction. “I guess you could say that this is a pretty crummy prank.”

Lydia rolled her eyes. “You should’ve added bad puns to the special skills section of you application.”

“It appears that my application was just fine without that detail.”

With that, I was off, beyond ready to just clear my thoughts and collapse into bed. I could figure this all out tomorrow. Until then, I was content on living moment-to-moment, and all the current moment required was hot water and sleep.

[janaikam]

I Can’t Help Falling In Love With You - Style Swap

Day 3 of @luxyweek

Part 2

Read on AO3

The akuma attack didn’t take that long. XY had watched the entire fight on the Ladyblog on his phone as he tried to make his way through the sewers. He was glad that his phone survived the fall into the sewers.

It seemed that after Chat had tricked XY down the sewers, him and Luka blocked the hole XY had fallen down. He was now trying to find a way out, so he could tell them how cash money they were not being.

The heroes had brought in Viperion, and he was being pretty useless. All he had been doing was watching the battle from the sidelines, occasionally yelling something at Ladybug and Chat Noir.

Whatever his superpower was it was pretty useless. Nonetheless the battle ended in about 5 minutes without Viperion’s help.

Luckily, the battle ended right as XY found another ladder, so he climbed out of the sewer as fast as he could and started running down the street.

If he hurried then, he could catch Chat and give him a piece of his mind.

Glancing down at the live feed on the Ladyblog, XY saw that the heroes were near the Trocadero, so he picked up his pace.

Thankfully, the sewer he had climbed out from was close to the Trocadero, but when he got there, a flock of reporters surrounded the heroes.

Not wanting to risk reporters seeing him in his messy state, XY kept a good distance away from the growing crowd. He figured he might have a better chance at catching Chat Noir and confronting him when he was alone.

His plan sounded so perfect that he couldn’t help but give himself a pat on the back. It wasn’t everyday he created an amazing plan.

He didn’t have to wait long as Ladybug whispered something to Chat Noir and flew off. Viperion jumped away in the opposite direction and Chat Noir followed, after waving goodbye to the reporters.

XY followed him, sticking to the shadows of buildings so he wasn’t recognized by any of his fans. He soon realized that Chat Noir was headed towards the park, which was perfect for XY since he needed to get back there to confront Luka.

Chat dropped down in an alley about two blocks from the park. XY ran a bit faster before he used his portal magic to disappear.

When XY got to the alley Chat had dropped in, he noticed that Luka was also in the alley.

They looked like they were talking about something, but stopped once XY entered the alley. Everyone’s eyes were wide as the three of them stared at each other. No one uttered a word as a beeping sound cut through the silence. Chat glanced down at his hand and let out a sigh of relief.

“I’m glad you are both safe! Try not to become an akuma’s target next time guys!” With that, Chat jumped out of the alley, much to XY’s anger.

“HEY!!!” XY yelled, running to try and stop Chat, but the hero was much faster than him, bounding out of the alley lightning fast.

The only person left in the alley was Luka, who was trying to sneak out the alleyway.

“Don’t you dare! Someone has to do my dry cleaning! And you helped Chat Noir lure me down into that sewer, so that means you have to do my laundry,” XY declared, crossing his arms.

The blue-haired boy groaned, knowing that he wasn’t going to get out of this situation easily. “Alright, just let me make a few calls. And we can go do your laundry.”

--

It turned out that the concert in the park had been canceled and rescheduled due to the akuma attack. At least that’s what Luka had claimed. His band members were going to pack up the rest of their equipment while Luka was helping XY.

XY didn’t miss the obvious distaste in Luka’s tone, but he shrugged it off, figuring that he was just upset because he was going to have to pay for XY’s expensive dry cleaning.

The entire walk was quiet, which bothered XY for some reason, but he didn’t see any reason to do anything about it. He mostly didn’t know what to say and was trying to hide his identity from any fans or paparazzi. It wouldn’t do him any good to be spotted with the wannabe in his gross state.

It wasn’t until they were by the Seine that XY realized Luka wasn’t leading them to a dry cleaner.

“Hey, where are we going?” XY asked.

“We’re going to my house so you can get your clothes all clean and maybe you can take a shower.” Luka sniffed and scrunched his nose. “Yeah, you definitely need a shower.”

“I’ll have you know that it’s your fault that I smell and look like this!” XY huffed.

Luka just rolled his eyes and continued walking down the sidewalk at a slightly faster pace.

“So where is your house anyway?” XY looked around but couldn’t see any houses nearby.

All he could see was the boats people rented space for on the Seine. He had one somewhere, but couldn’t remember where it was located.

“I live there.” Luka pointed at a large and colorful ship with a rainbow rooster on one of the masts. “We call her, The Liberty. I hope you don’t get seasick.”

XY ignored the small smirk on Luka’s face. Instead he stared in awe at the houseboat Luka called home. “You live on a pirate ship?!?”

“Uh...yeah…”

“That’s so cool!”

Even when they boarded the ship, XY couldn’t help but notice every little thing on the ship. Mostly because everything was on the floor and he had to watch his step, but that didn’t stop him from looking on in awe at everything. It wasn’t everyday he walked onto a pirate ship.

Wait if Luka lived on a pirate ship did that mean he was a pirate? Nah, no pirate would subject himself to dressing like that. Pirate’s had a flair that Luka just didn’t have.

Luka led him downstairs, where XY learned the bedrooms and bathrooms were. For a pirate ship it seemed pretty nice. It was definitely cleaner than the top, which he appreciated.

“You can shower in here and just drop your clothes outside the door. I’ll bring you something to wear while they’re being washed,” Luka instructed, opening the door to the bathroom.

The bathroom definitely didn’t look like much, XY probably wouldn’t have been able to fit his entire closet in the small space. There was just a small green toilet and sink. The mirror right above the sink was so small that XY couldn’t even see his hair in it. There was a curtain towards the back that must’ve been the shower.

“Just make sure you hand wash my jacket. It’s very delicate. Wash my jeans on the delicate cycle and don’t wash them on high heat. I don’t need these skinny jeans getting more skinnier. Now, do you have any hair products? My hair is going to need some serious work after this shower.”

Luka just stared at XY with an absolutely done look on his face. “I’ll see what my sister has.”

With that, Luka left him alone in the ship’s bathroom. Pushing back the small curtain, XY spotted a showerhead and drain.

“Hey, where’s the bathtub?”

----

After Luka taught him how to use the shower, XY spent about an hour cleaning himself off. At least that’s how long it took for the hot water to turn cold, but even that wasn’t enough. He missed his constantly warm rose petal baths that he got at the hotel.

But he figured not everyone was as lucky as him if the lack of designer soap was any indication.

At some point, Luka had entered the bathroom, with something in his hand. XY had yelled at him, thinking he had a phone and was trying to get a picture of him in all his naked glory. Luka had just started yelling back, but XY couldn’t hear him. Eventually, Luka had left, effectively ending their screaming match.

Exiting the shower, XY noticed a stack of clothes on the sink counter. He was pretty sure they hadn’t been there when he first came in, but he tended to miss a lot of things. Clothes weren’t hard to miss, especially ones as cheap looking as these.

The clothes fit XY surprisingly well. Despite how rough looking the jeans appeared, they were surprisingly very soft. They felt like sweatpants but fit like skinny jeans. The T-shirt was comfortable, but it had an outline of Jagged Stone’s face on it, which ruined the shirt for him.

Admiring himself in the mirror, he realized he kind of looked like a blonde better looking version of Luka. Definitely hotter, XY thought, giving himself a smile in the mirror.

Satisfied with how he looked, XY tried to imagine what Luka would look like in his clothes. Unfortunately he was having trouble picturing it, so he decided he would have to settle for the next best thing. Dressing up Luka himself to see.

XY exited the bathroom looking for Luka only to find him on his bed strumming a black and white guitar. Luka had his eyes closed, and he looked so peaceful. It was really weird to see him like this since all XY’s really seen is the serious side of Luka.

He couldn’t help but wonder what Luka was like when he wasn’t playing hero.

“What are you doing here?” afeminine voice asked from behind XY. The soft music coming from Luka’s side of the room stopped as Luka acknowledged XY’s presence.

He turned around to find a purple-haired girl on another bed in the room. She looked at him with a disgust that XY didn’t understand. He had never seen this girl before, so what would she have against the fabulous XY himself? If anything she should be grateful that she’s even able to bask in his presence.

“Jules, he’s here as our guest,” Luka assured, placing his guitar down on the side of the bed. “I know you don’t like it. Trust me I don’t either, but play nice.”

‘Jules’ grumbled something under her breath and left, walking upstairs to the deck. Luka’s face had flushed red, apparently understanding whatever the girl had said.

“Juleka!”

A soft giggle came from the stairs, but other than that the girl disappeared, leaving the two of them alone in the room.

Sighing, Luka picked up some clothes and hair products at the foot of his bed.

“Anyways, here’s some hair product I found and your clothes. Though I have to admit you don’t look too terrible with your hair down like that,” Luka commented, handing him the hair products and clothes.

The amount of products Luka handed to him wasn’t what he was used to, but he guessed that’s what it meant to be a pirate. No proper hair products to look decent.

“Thanks.” XY paused, looking up at Luka. “As a sign of my gratitude for taking me in, I have decided that I am going to give you a makeover.”

“Oh, that’s nice really, but I really can’t-” Luka started to protest as XY dragged him to the bathroom.

“Nope, you’re gonna accept my gift, and I won’t take no for an answer. Now take off all of those bracelets, what do you even need them all for?”

---

Twenty minutes later, Luka was wearing XY’s clothes and, thanks to XY, had his hair styled like XY’s signature hairstyle. In XY’s opinion, Luka looked amazing. Probably even cuter than he looked before.

From the bathroom counter, XY grabbed Luka’s bracelet and hoodie from off the counter and put them on. If he was going to swap styles with Luka he was going to do it right, and that meant dressing exactly like him.

“And done! What do you think?”

Luka nervously stood up from his spot on the toilet and walked over to the bathroom mirror. “Oh my gosh. I look like a goth Johnny Bravo.”

“Awesome! I told you my hairstyle isn’t that ridiculous.” XY grinned, satisfied with how Luka seemed to like his new look.

“Dude. That’s not a good thing. It feels like there’s a massive brick on my head,” Luka deadpanned. “Seriously, how much product did you use?”

Glancing at the empty containers of hair products, XY chose to ignore Luka’s question. “You’ll get used to the weight. I think you look amazing.”

Watching the blush form on an XY-dressed Luka, XY realized what he had been trying to deny for the past day. He was falling for this wannabe rocker.