#i never enjoy the idea of most au’s removed from the original source but girl i’m so obsessed with this now

[singmysoultosleep]

i read rent boy yesterday and am so obsessed with the concept of dally’s murder rap being him roped into a lucrative organ harvesting scheme by some looney old trick but it’s all under the guise of gang activity.

[whitecrossgirl]

Out of Hand

AN: So this is an AU that I had previously written on my ff.net page under the same username but I thought I would edit and rewrite parts of it as my writing I feel has improved. I hope you enjoy it.

Fake Dating AU

“I’ve already promised myself to someone.”

Jaime had blurted out the lie before he could stop himself. The effect it had on his family was instantaneous. Tywin had flickered an eyebrow in surprise (the equivalent of any other person having their jaw on the floor), Cersei looked stunned by his announcement and Tyrion looked simply bemused, eager to watch the scene unfold. Tywin had originally summoned the three of them to discuss marriages which had meant scolding Tyrion for not yet consummating his marriage to Sansa Stark, scolding Cersei for her attitude towards her betrothal to Loras Tyrell and informing Jaime that he was sourcing a bride for him. The ideal would be one of Walder Frey’s numerous daughters and granddaughters or some daughter from one of their vassal houses.

It was the entirety of all of the changes that he would be facing since his return to the capital; being stripped from the Kingsguard, forced into a marriage with someone he didn’t know or care for, the useless lump of gold attached to his right wrist; that had caused Jaime’s mouth to act without informing his brain and blurted out the lie about already being engaged.

“Really?” Tywin asked finally. “Who is she?”

Jaime cursed his own stupidity as his mind began to race. Marriage. A wife. Children. The life he had always wanted but simultaneously never wanted was in front of him. He knew what Tywin’s unspoken questions were; what family was she from, what could they (Tywin) claim from the match, how suitable a bride was she and of course, how dare Jaime do something so independent without consulting him. As he tried to think of an answer, a believable answer, only one person came to mind. She would kill him for this but he had no other option. He couldn’t tell the truth now.

“Her name is Brienne. Brienne of Tarth,” Jaime answered, sealing both of their fates.

“That beast you dragged back here with you?” Cersei asked with a scoff. “You can’t be serious.”

“That’s enough,” Tywin said and Cersei fell silent at one, glaring at Jaime suspiciously instead. “She is Selwyn Tarth’s daughter.”

It wasn’t a question and Jaime wasn’t stupid enough to think it was. “She is, she stands to inherit the Sapphire Isles.”

“The Evenstar is also a possible rallying point for the Stormlands when Stannis Baratheon dies. Tarth have declared neutrality in this war, despite her own actions. It also has good trade routes, a strong fleet of ships and a strong control in the Narrow Sea. Not the most attractive of wives, but there are compensations.” Tywin stated, pragmatic to a fault. Jaime wasn’t surprised that Tywin had already found out so much information about Brienne and her homeland. Of course, control in the Stormlands was a higher benefit to Tywin than what some nameless Frey girl could give.

Every single Lannister match had been planned to ensure they controlled it all. Cersei’s first marriage got them the throne and the crownlands. Joffrey and Cersei would keep the Tyrells and Highgarden in the fold. Tyrion’s marriage to Sansa would get them the North and help secure the Eyrie through her blood relation to Lysa and Robin Arryn. Riverrun and the Twins was theirs after the Red Wedding. Myrcella’s marriage would secure them Dorne and when Tommen was old enough, they would find a suitable match for him too. With Jaime’s supposed marriage to Brienne, it would gain Tywin the Stormlands (possibly) as well as a higher control over the Narrow Sea. All that would remain would be the Iron Islands. Tywin Lannister would win the Game of Thrones; regardless of who actually sat on the Iron Throne.

“I don’t care about any of that,” Jaime admitted truthfully, now that there was no turning back, it was as if all the thoughts he had been suppressing about Brienne had burst forward. “She protected me, she helped me when I lost my hand. She kept me alive when I was at my lowest point. Brienne is honourable and true and I know it sounds absurd but her heart is where her true beauty lies.”

‘Gods save us, he does actually love her,’ Tyrion mused before he smiled at Jaime. “If that’s the case, then I wish you both every happiness Jaime. It’ll be good to have some honour in this family for once.”

“That’s enough Tyrion,” Tywin warned without looking at him. “If you have promised yourself to the Tarth woman and as she is a suitable match, we will hold the wedding in three weeks; before the Royal wedding.”

Wedding! Oh gods he was an idiot. He had not thought this through. He had expected Tywin to dismiss his supposed promise to Brienne or be sceptical of his feelings. He should have put the pieces together when Tywin had actually seemed approving of Brienne, or rather what he could benefit by having Jaime marry her. This was bad, this was really, really bad.

Brienne was going to kill him.

“Thank you Father, I’m pleased we have your blessing.” Jaime lied, managing to fake a sincere enough smile.

“She will join us for dinner tonight, I want to meet her properly.” Tywin stated, looking almost… pleased that Jaime was not arguing the marriage.

“Of course,” Jaime replied, feeling the panic inside him build even more. As Tywin dismissed them, Cersei had stormed off immediately, poison in her eyes at the idea of the beast from Tarth managing to steal Jaime, her Jaime from her. Jaime and Tyrion however rounded the corner, walked down the passageway and once Jaime was confident that they were out of earshot, calmly hit his head off of a locked door.

“Stupid! That was so stupid! We are so fucked!” Jaime muttered as the penny dropped for Tyrion.

“You haven’t proposed to her, have you, you stupid bastard?” Tyrion asked and Jaime rounded on him.

“I didn’t mean to say that. I panicked and I didn’t think he would take it seriously. I do care for her and she is a close friend but no, I didn’t ask her to marry me. We don’t feel that way about each other.” Jaime replied, ignoring the almost hurt feeling at the reminder that Brienne didn’t actually love him.

“Well you did say it.” Tyrion said heavily. It had been said. It could not be unsaid. Tywin expected Jaime and Brienne to marry and soon the word would be travelling around the Red Keep that the Kingslayer was so in love with Brienne the Beauty that he had asked her to marry him; Kingsguard and tradition be damned. Once the court knew, all of Westeros would know and they would have to get married. Tywin expected it and no one defied Tywin Lannister or made him look a fool and lived to tell the tale.

Brienne was definitely going to kill him.

“Come on, we need to speak to Brienne and Sansa before Cersei or anyone else does.” Tyrion warned and they headed for the water gardens where they had left Brienne and Sansa when they had been summoned to Tywin’s office. Since Jaime and Brienne’s arrival in Kings Landing, the four of them had banded together into a group. A band of rejects and misfits, Tyrion had dubbed it. The Kingslayer, the demon monkey, Brienne the Beauty and the disgraced daughter of a traitor. What a group they made. Still it meant that they could be honest between the four of themselves and each had three others that they could trust without question. Something that would be needed now.

Sure enough, Brienne and Sansa had been sitting by one of the fountains in the water gardens and it was Sansa who noticed the grim expressions on their faces as they approached and felt a familiar sense of dread in her stomach. Something terrible had happened again. “What is it? What’s happened?”

“Not here,” Tyrion warned as he led them to the secluded waterside where Jaime, Brienne and Bronn practiced their sparring away from prying eyes. The sound of the waves crashing against the stones would ensure anything they said would be drowned out and not even one of Varys’ many little birds would overhear them.

“What’s happened?” Sansa asked again fearfully. If it was something that couldn’t be overheard then it was something terrible.

“Our father was speaking to the three of us about marriages. Ours, Cersei and Loras and he was discussing planning a match for Jaime when Jaime decided to inform our father that he had promised himself to someone else. A love match apparently.” Tyrion explained to Sansa and Brienne.

“I don’t understand,” Sansa said, puzzled as Brienne hit a realistation and her shoulders slumped.

“Jaime, you didn’t.” Brienne said as Jaime looked at her and turned scarlet. “Jaime what were you thinking?!”

“I didn’t mean to!” Jaime protested. “He was talking about removing me from the Kingsguard and about marriages and a suitable bride and I just thought of you and I panicked and it just came out.”

“You told your father that we were promised to wed. Is this some sort of sick joke?” Brienne asked; that had to be it. Another cruel joke against her because of course handsome, rich Jaime Lannister would want to marry her.

“It’s not a joke! He was talking about marriage and you were the only person I could think of who I would want to be married to. You’re kind and brave and strong and you think you’re hideous but your eyes are beautiful and your smile lights up your face and I know this sounds forced but it’s not. I know it’s a bad situation but I know how I feel about you. It’s not a joke. It’s never been a joke for me.” Jaime confessed, finally letting some of the thoughts and feelings that he thought he had hidden away through.

“Jaime, we need to be rational.” Brienne said after a tense moment of silence. “Your father expects us to wed, everyone will. How are we supposed to do this?”

“We will work it out,” Jaime reassured. “We will have to make it look believable.”

“But it’s unbelievable.” Brienne argued. This whole situation was unbelievable. Damn Jaime for his stupid lie, forcing them into this mess and damn his stupid confession as it was causing her to question the stupid thoughts and feelings that she had forced away since Harrenhall.

“You’re going to have to make it believable. Jaime, you saw how Cersei was; she doesn’t believe this for a moment and Father won’t believe it until the two of you are in the Sept and married. If he even suspects that any of this was pretend or false; then it will be unthinkable.” Tyrion warned them both as Sansa nervously spoke up.

“If anyone had heard what Jaime had said a few minutes ago, they would believe he was in love with Brienne. You could have had to hide how you felt when you were travelling, in order to keep each other safe. It could have been a habit that you’ve just found difficult to break until your father knew of the engagement and it became official.” Sansa suggested; everyone was hiding something here. This was where all the liars were, even the terrible ones like her.

“Exactly, you already are good friends and everyone has seen how the two of you talk and laugh with one another. It will be the more physically affectionate side that you will need to start showing; hand holding, linked arms, kisses, that sort of thing.” Tyrion suggested; if he was honest with himself, he had suspected since they had arrived in the capital that there was more than just friendship or companionship between Jaime and Brienne. Clearly both of them had repressed it just deep enough to hide it from one another but now it was time to force that into the open.

“That will be the difficult part,” Brienne stated and Tyrion dismissed it with a wave of his hand.

“It will take practice. If Sansa can act like she’s not repulsed by me, the two of you can fake affection for each other.” Tyrion quipped and Sansa smiled softly.

“I’m not repulsed by you.” Sansa protested and Tyrion smiled at her. Their marriage was a sham but they were just trying to make the most of a bad situation and survive as best they could.

The next few hours were spent coaching Jaime and Brienne on how to act. Part of the difficulty came from the fact that both of them felt like little children playacting. It all just seemed forced and wrong. The barrier of awkwardness between the two of them didn’t help matters. It was strange; they had shared a bath together and during their travels had seen the other wash, piss and shit without blinking an eye. But something as simple as walking with their arms linked seemed almost unbearably awkward. The sun was beginning to set by the time they felt comfortable enough to even try returning to the Red Keep for their evening meal. As they made their way back up the steps, Jaime took Brienne’s hand and squeezed it tightly.

“I’m sorry,” Jaime apologised sincerely. “I never meant for you to get caught up in this.”

“We just need to get through it,” Brienne said and smiled suddenly. “I just realised,”

“What?” Jaime asked.

“This is probably the longest you’ve gone without insulting me. Maybe we can make this work.”

“We will,” Jaime reassured, looking her in the eyes. “I do care deeply for you Brienne. I don’t know exactly what this is but I know how I feel is real. Even if this isn’t.”

“Thank you Jaime,” Brienne said as they wandered through the gardens and found a few people shooting them not to subtle looks. Time to make it seem real. Brienne lowered her head and kissed his cheek. “Kindness suits you.”

Jaime felt a wide, silly smile cross his face as he resisted the temptation to touch the spot where she had kissed him. As they walked through the gardens and into the Red Keep; it was clear that the news of their engagement had started to circle, as had different rumours about their travels; as courtiers and servants alike, shared looks and whispers as they passed.

“I heard she helped him escape Robb Stark singlehandedly.”

“Apparently he saved her from a wild bear.”

“She’s not the prettiest one but she’s definitely more than what the Kingslayer deserves.”

Jaime rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb as he considered that last remark. Brienne was definitely more than what he deserved. Jaime paused in his tracks and turned to face Brienne. In that instant, time seemed to stand still as he stroked her cheek before he leaned in to kiss her. He knew that she hadn’t kissed a man before but she didn’t hesitate in kissing him back. Believable. It had to be believable. They broke apart, smiled at one another before continuing towards their destination.

Just a kiss between two lovers. Nothing else.

As they entered the room, they found Tyrion and Sansa just taking their seats. It seemed Joffrey and Tommen had not been expected to attend this dinner. Tywin was stood beside the table, clearly waiting on their arrival. Cersei was already sat that the table, glaring daggers at both Jaime and Brienne who both tightened their grip on the other’s hand. Showtime.

“Father, may I introduce you to Lady Brienne of Tarth, my future bride.” Jaime said politely as Brienne smiled and bowed at Tywin.

“My lord, it’s an honour to meet you.” Brienne said politely as Tywin managed to hide any shock or surprise at Brienne bowing.

“It is a pleasure to meet you,” Tywin replied politely as they took their seats. As the meal was served, Jaime and Brienne managed to keep their hastily contrived story of how they apparently discovered how they felt and Jaime’s proposal. They managed to join in with Tyrion’s joking, deflect any sharp comments or criticism from Cersei and even Tywin seemed won over by Brienne. Although it was hard to tell, he also could have been constipated. As their second course was served, Jaime scowled at the portion of mutton on his plate and picked up his fork.

“Let me,” Brienne said quietly, taking his plate and cutting the meat up for him. As she did so, Jaime smiled softly at her, touched by the gesture. Brienne’s action and Jaime’s reaction hadn’t gone unnoticed by everyone else at the table who watched the tender action between the two with a growing realisation.

It may have started out as something pretend.

Only now, it seemed to have become very real.

[hazellvesque]

Some Kind of Miracle - Chapter 9

Fandom: Miraculous Ladybug

Rating: G

Pairing: Adrien/Marinette

Summary: If Marinette had her way, she would have had nothing to do with Alya’s latest celebrity crush. So how did she get roped into stalking him around Los Angeles? When fashion icon Adrien Agreste quite literally crashes into Marinette’s life, they have no choice but to put up with one another or risk ruining both of their potential careers forever.

An AU based on the iconic Disney Channel Original Movie, Starstruck.

Read on Ao3

Chapter 9 - Searching

<<< Previous Chapter | Next Chapter >>>

At first, the silence had been a welcome respite from the non-stop hustle of the trip thus far. Marinette had uttered a silent thank you to Gabriel Agreste and his obscene fortune, as it was the main reasoning behind her overwhelming sense of serenity and downright coziness as she burrowed further under the endless expanse of blankets on her expensive hotel room bed.

Until now, she’d never realized just how comfortable a pillow could be. If she ever came into possession of a massive inheritance or managed to marry rich, she decided, her first order of business would be to invest in half a dozen down pillows. With silk pillowcases. The highest thread count she could find.

And to think, some people lived like this every day . All tall ceilings and open floor plans and the most expensive materials making up every inch of their living space, never needing to share with or see anyone, having every possible thing they could want in the world right at their fingertips.

Incredible was one word for it. Intimidating was another. Yet glancing around the massive space with nothing but the sounds of morning rush hour traffic in the distance to distract her, Marinette couldn’t help but wonder how quickly this life would turn from luxury to loneliness. Owning everything you could ever want, but having no one to share it with? No doubt the novelty would turn stale eventually.

Admittedly, as the hours dragged on, the quiet and comfort quickly turned to restlessness and an odd tickling sense in the back of her mind that she should be doing something. Anything besides lying around and letting the day waste away.

At this time of morning, the only shows on television were overacted soap operas and old childrens’ cartoons, which could only be entertaining for so long. Scrolling through other people’s pictures and posts was never very rewarding, and opening her sketchbook only helped to make her realize just how lacking her brain was in the inspiration department. She couldn’t think of a single new idea.

Compared to the past couple of days she’d been having, a single afternoon of relaxation and silence was dull at best, and downright torture at worst. The most productive thing she’d done all day was rummage through Alya’s bag for ibuprofen and wander to the kitchen to make herself a cup of coffee. In retrospect, caffeine probably wasn’t the best for a headache, but the energy was worth the side effects.

All Marinette could think about, honestly, was how much she hoped Alya wasn’t going to completely freak out being in the Agreste mansion. It was all fun and games until her best friend got so excited that she popped a blood vessel or fangirled too hard in front of the wrong snobbish elite.

At least Alya was having more fun than she was.

--

Alya Césaire had never been more stressed in her entire life.

Her nerves were a direct reflection of her mother’s, who was pacing back and forth as she read over her to-do lists. If her incessant circling went on any longer, she might very well leave a permanent rut in the Agreste’s perfectly manicured back lawn.

It seemed neither of them were very good at handling last-minute wrenches in their plans.

Nathalie Sancouer had greeted them as they entered the car outside of their hotel, giving only a brief apology for the last minute addition to Mme. Césaire’s itinerary and ensuring her that she’d receive a substantial pay raise as a result. Putting a face to the mysterious assistant’s name was the first thing that put Alya on edge. The woman had a fierce stare, even as she remained watching straight ahead and hardly spared her backseat passenger a second glance.

The next source of tension came from what Alya thought was an innocent question. Slicing through the thick silence, she dared to ask, “So, do you plan and hire people for all sorts of celebrities like Gabriel Agreste or is this a one time thing?”

Nathalie’s smile - though it seemed more like a knowing smirk - quirked just slightly enough for Alya to see in the rearview mirror. “I am Mr. Agreste’s personal assistant,” she said coolly. “I handle all of his affairs.”

Alya had suddenly felt as motion sick as she did on the plane. She tried her best not to gape at the woman like an idiot. Instead, her shock was directed towards her mother, who sat innocently looking out of the window of the passenger seat as if she hadn’t heard a thing.

Before Alya could open her mouth, Nathalie cut in. “I’ll be adding your name to the non-disclosure agreement your mother signed upon accepting the job. You won’t be telling anyone about the things you do as part of this job. Understood?”

Even if the words seemed harsh, Nathalie still had a hint of amusement lingering on her face. A threat hidden under a smile was enough to send a chill down Alya’s spine.

“Understood,” Alya gulped.

By the time the tables were set up and guests began arriving, Alya had stress-eaten about five cupcakes. Maybe six. But who was counting?

Stand up straight. Smile politely. Don’t let your hands shake too much. She plastered on a cheery demeanor as she passed plates of sugary confectioneries to anyone who approached the table.

Nathalie watched her from the other side of the garden, a small approving smile on her face.

The guest list seemed to be entirely incohesive. Attire ranged from business casual to black tie and everything in between, and there seemed to be no rhyme or reason to the conversations happening around her. So far, there was no sign of Adrien or his father.

There were, however, many guests her age. Young people, likely models and musicians and the like. And there in the distance, a familiar spectacled face in the crowd. Alya squinted to get a better look, but that proved unnecessary as the boy and a female companion approached the desserts.

She prayed there were no cupcake crumbs or icing remnants on her chin. She cleared her throat once to get his attention, then again to try and look casual. “It was Nino, right?”

She remembered at the last second that she should speak English, so her vowels were slurred in all the wrong ways, but at least it sounded vaguely understandable.

Nino’s eyebrow raised in recognition. He nodded. “Nightclub girl. Anna, or-?”

“Alya,” she supplied.

“Right,” he tapped his temple with his index finger, as if he were committing the name to memory this time.

Alya’s eyes slid to the blonde girl. If her glossy high golden ponytail weren’t recognizable enough, she made sure to stand out with her insanely high shoes and little black dress. No surprise that she was the best dressed person here by far. ‘ Posh ’ was one of the kinder words that Alya’s blog followers used in their comments about her. “And you’re Chloe Bourgeois.”

“You know who she is?” Nino frowned.

Chloe scoffed. “It’s about time someone did, right?”

“She’s Adrien’s friend,” Alya said too quickly, too matter-of-factly. Her eyes widened as her mind scrambled for a cover. “At least, I assume you both are. That’s why you’re here, right?”

“Well, you’re here too,” Chloe looked her up and down. Not disdainfully, but quizzically. “Alone?”

“Chef Césaire is my mom, I’m here to help her set up and serve.”

“Serving? Oh please,” Chloe rolled her eyes, placing her hand on the small of Alya’s back and guiding her away from the table, not bothering to ask if she actually wanted to leave. “These people may have enough cash to get everything handed to them, but they’re not entirely helpless. You shouldn’t have to stand there all night and kiss their asses.”

Alya looked to Nino for help, but he seemed just as confused. He snatched a cupcake from the table before trailing behind them, biting into it as if it were movie theater popcorn to accompany the entertaining scene about to unfold.

“Are you sure Natha- er, Miss Sancouer won’t mind? She seemed pretty serious about this whole thing.”

“Oh, she’ll mind,” Nino smirked, taking another bite. “But you’re not her kid, so she can’t get mad at you for whatever trouble you might get in like she does with Adrien-”

“Except she’s not his mom,” Chloe grumbled, “and she should stop acting like she is.”

Alya nearly flinched noticing the way Chloe’s grip suddenly felt like claws in her back.

Nino continued on, either not noticing the icy shift in tone or choosing to ignore it. “Besides, there’s nothing to do tonight to even get you on her bad side. This whole thing is just another scheme of hers to make Adrien look good. ‘Stand around, eat some food, talk to some guests, don’t say or do anything questionable, be mundane all night so no one can bad mouth you later.’”

The three of them had made it over to the bandstand, where a guitarist had just finished setting up. Chloe sat on a white stool, immediately leaning down to unfasten the buckle on her stiletto heels. She removed her shoes and folded her legs under her, somehow effortlessly poised in her odd seated position. Evidently she was very comfortable here. Nino wasted no time making himself comfortable too, swinging an extra stool around to use as a footrest.

“Is this a normal thing?” Alya asked. “I mean, a band, a caterer, a whole huge crowd of people to entertain. Just for some flashy pictures?

“Welcome to Hollywood,” Nino gestured as the last open seat next to him, urging Alya to relax. “Enjoy your stay while you can.”

As the guitarist plucked out the first few notes of a soft rock song, Chloe leaned over to talk with Alya. How she had perfect posture even when sitting so precariously was a mystery. “Is it your first time at something like this?”

Alya swallowed nervously as she sat down. “How could you tell?”

“You don’t fit in,” Chloe said bluntly. “Trust me, that’s a good thing. You haven’t let any of this stuff go to your head. Don’t let it corrupt you or else you’ll feel obligated to start wearing stuff like this-” she gestured to her discarded shoes, “-to impress people you don’t even know.”

As the song picked up, Alya’s two new companions lapsed into comfortable silence. A few people had wandered over to listen as well, still huddled in their odd exclusive conversation circles.

Chatter and a half a dozen camera flashes in quick succession to Alya’s left caught her attention.

There, coming out of the sliding glass doors of the large house, was the reason Alya’s heart suddenly started palpitating. Adrien had finally arrived, fashionably late to his own party. That, too, was probably calculated down to the minute.

He looked exactly like his pictures, which was probably why her brain hadn’t entirely processed yet that he was indeed a real person, standing less than 10 meters away, totally accessible. Alya took a deep breath as she watched him descend the short steps and properly enter the garden area. Stay calm, she reminded herself for the tenth time that night.

Various partygoers struck up conversation with him immediately as he put on a show for the cameras, smiling and shaking hands all around. Knowing it was all mostly fake left a weird feeling in Alya’s gut.

“There he is,” Chloe looked up, quickly fastening her shoes back on. “I’ll be back,” she said, abandoning her seat.

Nino tipped his head back and sighed. “No you won’t,” he said to no one.

The band’s guitarist strummed out the last notes of their song to polite applause from the small crowd. Alya cast a nervous glance back at the dessert table, but her mother was deep in conversation with other party guests, laughing and even enjoying some of her delicacies for herself. Nathalie stood in her own circle not too far away, not seeming to care in the slightest that Alya had abandoned her post.

Chloe had made her way to Adrien’s side, planting quick bises on both of his cheeks and gesturing for him to come join them near the band. He smiled and gave her a ‘later’ gesture before turning to greet the rest of his guests while Chloe shrugged and dissolved into the crowd.

And then there was Nino, still lounging beside Alya, nodding along to the opening notes of the next song, completely lost in the music. His glasses had slipped down the bridge of his nose. His tie knot was slightly loose, hanging around his neck revealing that the top two buttons of his shirt were undone. Casual. Like he didn’t care at all about the crowd and cameras. He was completely in his element listening to the music.

He was kind of cute, now that she thought about it.

“I’ve never heard this song,” Alya tested the waters.

Nino smiled just a little, his eyes still closed blissfully. “Neither have I. It’s got a nice beat to it though. It’s probably an original, not a cover.”

His foot tapped against the stool to the steady rhythm. His fingertips twitched, as if he were playing an air instrument.

Alya tilted her head. “Is that how you and Adrien met? You’re a musician? What do you play?”

“Musician is one word for it I guess,” his voice was low, allowing the other party goers to enjoy the music. He spoke only loud enough for Alya to listen. “I’ve tried picking up strings and keys but none of that really suits me. I leave the original work to the more talented folks, but finding ways to remix and mashup songs is my favorite. I’m trying to think of a way I can use this bass line.”

His hands continued their odd little dance, moving through the air as if he were placing invisible notes on a floating staff.

Alya was glad his eyes were closed, so he wouldn’t notice her staring.

As often as Nino’s name came up in tabloids alongside Adrien, not much was known about him. No one really knew who he was - and judging by the way he chose to blend in tonight, all casually clothed and careless air, that was probably intentional. All he was known for was being Adrien’s best friend. But clearly there was more to the story.

She waited until the song was over and his hands came to a rest at his side to speak again.

She decided to try a new topic, one that wouldn’t have her gaping like a fish out of water while he went on and on about a hobby she knew nothing about. “So Chloe seems. . . nice.”

“She can be when she wants to,” Nino said, leaning his head closer to whisper, “but to be honest, I was the one who saw you over there stressing yourself out and I figured you could use a break. I guess her getting your attention was her way of being nice to me today.”

“Oh.”

Before she could think of a response, Nino stood and shrugged his head towards the growing crowd at the center of the party. “Come on, let me go introduce you to the man of the hour.”

Alya’s stomach dropped to her toes. Nino led the way through the throngs of people, having no trouble making his way up to the superstar model. It was like the red sea of flashy glitz and glamor parted perfectly to make way for best friend privileges.

Adrien immediately lit up at the sight of Nino. “Dude!” They did that strange boy shoulder-bump handshake-high-five combo.

“Adrien, this is Alya,” Nino turned and waved her forward, politely taking a step back and giving her the floor.

“Um, hi!” She didn’t know if she should shake his hand. She could hardly breathe, now was not the time to be considering social etiquette. Part of her almost wanted to curtsey, but to save herself the embarrassment, she just waved politely. “Alya Césaire. Nice to meet you!”

“So you’re the daughter of the chef. Lucky you, getting to eat amazing food like that every day,” he smiled, and Alya practically melted into a puddle right there.

“Yeah,” she gulped. He was real. And talking to her. He was an actual living human person and she was in his backyard and this was his party and suddenly it felt hotter than it should even for July. “I’m pretty lucky.”

An odd look crossed his face. “I thought Nathalie told me there were two girls working with Mrs. Césaire during her stay?”

“My friend Marinette, she wasn’t feeling well tonight.”

“That’s a shame, you’ll have to tell your friend hello for me.”

If she could remember how to speak after this conversation was over, she would gladly. “Speaking of work, I should probably get back to helping my mom. But, uh, it was nice to meet you Adrien.”

“You too, Alya,” he held his hand out to her, and she steadied her breathing before shaking it briefly, afraid that if she held on any longer than a second she might burst.

She turned on her heel to leave and came face-to-face with Nino. That quickly, she had already forgotten he was standing behind her. And now he was standing incredibly close.

Nino took an awkward step back, chuckling.

“It was nice seeing you again,” he said. “I don’t want to keep your mom waiting, so I’ll tell Chloe to stop bothering you.”

Alya laughed at that. “Yes, well, tell Chloe I said thanks for kidnapping me for a little while. I had fun. And when you figure out how to mix that bass line, you should let me listen.”

Before she could embarrass herself any further, she hurried back to her spot at the dessert table.

For the rest of the night, every time she glanced up and saw Adrien and Nino in the crowd, she had to swallow down the feeling of her heart leaping up into her throat. Actively resisting the urge to stress eat more tiny desserts proved to be a difficult challenge.

And oddly enough, she didn’t think Adrien was entirely the reason why she was so nervous now.

--

The moment Alya left earshot, Adrien’s mouth morphed into a sly smile. He walked quickly, leaving the camera circle and following Nino further out into the mass of partiers.

“So Alya seems nice,” Adrien said. Casual, yet straight to the point. He applauded himself internally.

“No,” said Nino.

So much for that.

Adrien scrambled for a response. “I mean, you think she’s cool, right?”

“What scheme are you about to get me tangled up in next?”

“Just answer the question, please?”

“Yeah, she’s cool,” Nino grumbled under his breath. “I still don’t appreciate you making me her chauffeur the other night, but I can look past that now. Why do you need to know?”

“No reason,” Adrien may as well have been twiddling his thumbs and whistling a jaunty tune under his breath for how hard he was pretending to be aloof. “I just thought it might be nice for her to have someone to hang out with.”

“Right. You mean other than her best friend who she came halfway across the world with. The same girl who you keep sneaking off to talk to.”

“Well, I think Alya likes you.”

“That’s not the point,” Nino deflected, though the look in his eyes seemed to say he wasn’t totally against the idea.

“And if you, my best friend in the entire world, could do me a massive favor and distract Alya tomorrow so that Marinette doesn’t have to worry about getting caught leaving her hotel for a few hours…”

“You want me to entertain Alya so you and Marinette can go on a da-”

“I promised I’d show her around the city,” Adrien insisted. “I kind of owe her a favor, all things considered.”

Nino stood silently, his brows furrowed. Finally, he muttered, “You’ll be owing me a favor too, after all I’ve done for you.”

Adrien clapped Nino on the shoulder. “You’re the best.”

“And you’re the worst,” Nino replied.

--

Just before drifting off, Mariette noticed her phone screen light up.

She had a single notification from the app she had installed the night before. A new message.

A little birdy told me you weren’t feeling well tonight. A shame you had to miss out on the fun. Let me make it up to you tomorrow? Be ready at 9am.

- AA