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everlock101 · 2 years ago

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Shadow and Stardew

Chapter Four: Furnishings

I cut through town, following the street up the hill. People were out and about, starting their day and heading into work.

As I passed a building with a sign that read, Stardrop Saloon, the door opened and a broad-shouldered man with golden hair shouldered his way outside. He was followed by a young man with dark hair and golden eyes.

Both of them turned onto the street beside me.

“Oh, hello,” the golden-haired man greeted in a thick accent.

“Hello.”

Silence fell as we began walking in the same direction. The boy stayed quiet.

“Um, I’m Ketarina,” I said awkwardly.

“I assumed. My name is Matthias. And this is Kuwei.”

The boy gave a small wave.

“Matthias?” I asked, brightening. “I was just heading to your shop.”

“Ah, well, good fortune then. What are you needing?”

“Furniture. The Demiov house doesn’t even have a bed. Also, Mal told me you would be the person to talk to about a telephone.”

“I’m sure we can get you everything you need.”

Matthias and Kuwei were men of few words but the silence wasn’t terrible. Matthias’s shop stood at the top of the hill that met the mountain. He unlocked the door and let us both in before turning all the lights on. I looked around as he and Kuwei moved through the shop. Lovely pieces of assorted furniture stood around; chairs, tables, bedframes, benches. Everything looked well made.

“So, what will you be needing?” Matthias asked from behind the counter. Kuwei had vanished.

“A bed first. And eventually, I’ll need to furnish the rest of the house.”

“Alright, I’ve got a few bed frames already made or I can custom order you one. We also sell mattresses, bedding, and other household appliances there,” Matthias said, pointing through the door to the right.

“Alright, where are the bedframes?”

He led me over to a stretch of wall where headboards hung on the wall. One of them caught my eye, a beautiful queen sized with patterns mimicking a starburst on the head and footboards.

“How much is this frame?”

“For a first time buyer? Thirteen gold.”

“Are you sure? This is a beautiful, handmade piece.”

Matthias gave me a small smile.

“I’m sure. You said you have no furniture so that means you’ll bring me plenty of business.”

I chuckled and nodded.

“Alright, then. Is it alright if I go pick out other things and pay for them all together?”

“Of course. I’ll get this bedframe down. You go and pick out anything else you need. We can load it all on the cart and haul it over when you’re done.”

“Thank you.”

I left him with a smile and went into the other room. Kuwei was there, organizing a shelf of lamps.

“Hello,” he greeted quietly.

“Hello. You and your father keep a lovely store.”

“Oh, thanks.”

I found a bed set I liked in a bright teal, matching rug, a simple nightstand, a lamp with a light brown lampshade, and a new desk chair since I already had the desk.

“Where are your mattresses?” I asked as I stacked the items near the door.

“Just around the corner,” Kuwei replied, pointing through an open doorway. I stepped around. There weren’t too many mattresses but there were three queen sized. I checked each of them and found one firm enough.

In the end the total cost was still manageable and far under what he should have charged me. We loaded everything up onto a big wheeled cart andMatthias left Kuwei in charge of the shop before escorting me back to the farm.

“There’s actually a shortcut right through here,” he explained, leading me to the west along a heavily wooded path.

“Huh, are there lots of these shortcuts throughout the town?”

Matthias shrugged.

“Not so many but enough.”

The farm appeared and I led Matthias to the door, helping him pull the cart up the porch steps. The big wheels helped.

We pulled the cart through the front door and Matthias looked around. I watched his brow furrow.

“You weren’t kidding,” he finally stated.

“Nope. And you were right. I’m sure I’ll be giving you plenty of business.”

I helped him carry the bedframe upstairs to my bedroom and helped him put it together. We shelepped the mattress up next.

“Did you really sleep in a sleeping bag on the floor?” Matthias asked, tipping his head toward the balled up sleeping bag in the corner. I shrugged.

“Not a big deal. I’ve slept in worse places.”

We finished putting everything up and away.

“Thank you for your help, Matthias. I’m sure I’ll be in and out over the next few weeks.”

“I’m happy to help.”

“Well, uh, here.” I grabbed one of the jars of spice jam that Alina had given me. “I didn't make it but here, as a thank you.” He chuckled.

“Thank you, but my wife and I already have too many of Alina’s jams in our cupboards. Really, there’s no worry.”

“Well, thank you. I guess I’ll see you around.”

I waved goodbye to Matthias from the door before heading back inside.

I spent the next couple of hours cleaning again. By the end, I only had the stairs left and those just needed a good sweeping.

I was just pulling the broom out when I noticed something. Tucked behind a large cabinet, was a door.

My brow furrowed. I tugged on the cabinet and it shifted slightly. I pulled it away from the wall and tried the door. It stuck a bit but I drove my shoulder in and the door popped open. I fell through the opening and felt nothing but air beneath me.

I tumbled down a set of stone steps and fell into a crumpled heap at the bottom. I lay there and groaned, feeling every bruise and bump. I had landed awkwardly on my arm and knew I had twisted my wrist badly.

After a few creative curses, I took a breath and picked myself up. My wrist throbbed angrily and I coughed away the dust that had settled into my lungs.

I couldn’t see much. I fumbled along the wall until my fingers found a lightswitch. A faint glow illuminated the room from the center light. I’d need new bulbs.

Wine racks lined each wall. There were only a few bottles though, scattered here and there.

“Well, I’d have preferred not to break myself to find a drink but…” I shrugged and leaned against the wall, closing my eyes. I took long deep breaths until my heartbeat calmed and I could focus through the pain. I cradled my wrist as I limped back up the stairs.

“Second day here and you’ve already crashed into someone, nearly shot another guy in the head, and now probably broke your wrist. Good going, Ketarina,” I muttered scathingly.

I limped my way out of the house and to the little clinic down the road.

“Oh!”

A little gasp caught me by surprise as I stepped past the trees into the square. I blinked and found yet another gorgeous woman standing to my right.

Seriously!

She had long red hair pinned back from her face and flawless alabaster skin. She wore a beautiful blue dress with red embroidery.

“Oh, dear, you’re a mess. Are you alright?”

“Yup, just wishing I could crawl in a hole,” I groaned. Her perfectly plucked eyebrows arched and I tried to wave her away only to hiss and curse again.

“Here,” she hurried to my other side and put an arm across my back. “Lean on me. I’m assuming you’re heading for the clinic and if you weren’t, well, we’re going there now.”

I chuckled but straightened.

“Thank you but I can make it. Everyone’s already been too nice to me here.”

A smile flickered across her face and her lovely golden eyes softened.

“Well, I was heading to the clinic anyway so I’ll just accompany you.”

I gave her a look but her smile had turned mischievous. I huffed and grumbled but limped over to the door. She stepped deftly ahead of me and held the door open. I tried to look dignified but gave her a grateful smile.

“Fedyor?” she called, walking in behind me. There was a counter blocking off the corner and a small but cozy waiting room. One door stood on either side of the counter. The door leading into the waiting room swung open.

“He’s not here right now, Genya. What do you-”

The man who walked in stopped as he saw me and arched an eyebrow.

“I’m sure you’ve heard of Ketarina Demiov? She’s gotten hurt,” Genya explained.

“I can see that. Here.” He vanished back through the door and reappeared with a wheelchair.

“I can walk,” I said automatically. He pushed the chair behind me anyway and I slowly sank down. A sigh rushed out of me as the weight came off my leg. I hadn't realized how badly it hurt.

“This is Dr. Ivan Kaminsky. He’ll take good care of you.”

I twisted as he pushed me toward the door.

“You didn’t actually need anything here.”

“Nope.”

She gave a little wave before slipping from the clinic. I bit my lip against a smile as Dr. Kaminsky pushed me into a small examination room.

“Alright, why don’t you tell me what happened?” he said, sitting down on the little rolly stool and pulling a clipboard from the drawer.

“I fell down some stairs.” I saw him pause a bit as he slipped a form under the clasp. “I didn’t know the door would open up onto stairs and it was stuck. What kind of cellar door opens inward anyway?”

I saw his shoulders shake briefly and scowled, moving to cross my arms. Any humor left him as he heard my hiss of pain. He quickly spun back to me and gently took my arm.

“Where all do you hurt?” he asked as he began to carefully feel along my wrist and arm. He was more gentle than I thought he might be. He was handsome as well, of course, but his features were similar to Zoya’s, severe, stern.

“Wrist and leg are the two big ones. I’m sure I’ve got other bumps. Ouch!”

He nodded as he poked a tender spot.

“Well, it hasn’t started swelling yet so that’s a good sign. It doesn’t feel broken but we’d need an x-ray to be sure. You were walking so I doubt your leg is broken either. We’ll get some x-rays, some pain medication and then a brace or cast depending on what you need.”

I nodded and he gently settled my arm back down.

He examined my leg as well before taking me to a back room where they had an x-ray machine set up. He took the pictures then settled me back in the examination room on the bed.

“Alright, rest here. I’ll get you something for the pain. Any allergies?”

I shook my head and leaned back against the pillow.

The pain medication helped and I fell into a light doze. Fifteen minutes later, Dr. Kaminsky stepped back in.

“Alright, thankfully, nothing’s broken. You do have a bad sprain though so I have a brace for you. You also have a bone bruise on your leg so make sure you rest, ice and elevate it.”

“Thank you.”

I swung my legs over and Dr. Kaminsky pushed the wheelchair over. I tested my leg.

“I can probably make it home.”

“I just told you to rest it.”

I sighed but lowered myself into the chair. He pushed me out into the waiting room and another man sat behind the counter.

“Fedyor, can you watch the clinic while I take Miss Demiov home?”

“Of course, dear.” He smiled brightly at me and it reminded me of Alina. I couldn’t help but smile back. He gave a wave as Dr. Kaminsky pushed me out of the clinic.

Dr. Kaminsky rolled me down the path in silence. Despite his severe features, I actually appreciated it. Everyone here was so nice and chatty. It was good to know someone was a little closer to my normal.

At the house, he helped me up the porch steps.

“Let me guess, your room is on the second floor?”

“Yes, but really, I’ll be ok. Thank you for everything.”

He hesitated, brow furrowing. “Alright, but call if anything happens or the pain gets worse.” He handed me a business card.

“Right, I still need to get a telephone,” I muttered.

I’d never heard a more exasperated sigh.

#stardew valley #shadow and bone #fanfiction #no beta we die like men

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khronoes · 2 years ago

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tell me why i should believe a thing you say? @mimnghs

❝ well you shouldn’t — shouldn’t believe anything anyone here says really. ❞ she thought herself clever, an upward tick of her lips following the remark. maddy wasn’t exactly the most ideal candidate to aid her in her task, but timing and convenience had brought the witch in front of her and mal would have to make do with what she had at her disposal. she should have known it wouldn’t be easy, not with the way the other’s eyes burned every time they set their gaze on her. but it was worth a shot when her arrow had already been aimed in the dark.

❝ i’m not holding you hostage here. ❞ the purple haired girl reminded them with a jerk of her head towards the end of the dirt road, away from the entrance of the slop shop and a silent invitation to leave if maddy so wished. her pride wouldn’t allow her to beg nor grovel, despite her plan being near impossible without a second hand. there was no foreseeable way that mal would be able to snatch a sack of food from under the goblin’s noses without a distraction. ❝ i’m just saying, if you want the shop’s freshest haul, you’ll help me. ❞ fresh was subjective. nothing that washed up on the shores of the isle was fresh. leftovers sent over from auradon often consisted of rotting and half discarded food, or what could be a poor excuse for food. just barely edible was a better descriptor for their means of survival. ❝ how about this, ❞ she chewed her words for a long moment, the better part of her worried she was setting herself up for failure. rule number one of the isle was simple: trust no one. and while mal didn’t consider herself a girl who played by the rules, she cursed herself for breaking this one. ❝ i’ll be the distraction and you grab the food. deal ? ❞ as soon as the words left her mouth, her stomach turned with dread. she was definitely going to regret this.

#rotten to the core ( 𝐭𝐡𝐫. ) M. BERTHA #mimnghs #im thinking some unspecified time before d1 just isle shenanigans and survival u kno #mal after suggesting this: [chuckles] im in danger #also bear with me while i voice test her ty guinea pig <3

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hopskipaway · 3 years ago

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a malina ficlet for @nonbinarychaoticstupid to celebrate @malinalovebot’s birthday.

FRIDAY, I’M IN LOVE.

SATURDAY (wait).

The first thing Mal registered when he woke was the buzzing of his phone. Picking it up and squinting to read past the harsh light, he cursed his past self for ever agreeing to be gym buddies with Tolya Yul-Bataar.

He liked Tolya, he really did. He also loved going to the gym. Combining the two, it seems, might be more than he can bargain for.

With a groan, he hauls himself out of bed. Quickly throwing together a gym bag and rushing out to the kitchen to prepare a protein shake.

“Malyen Oretsev!” A voice called from the other room. “It is six thirty in the morning on a Saturday. If you don’t shut up, I will not hesitate to kick you out.”

“It’s your fault I'm up this early, Nikolai.” Mal yelled back. “You’re the one who introduced me to Tolya.”

Nikolai’s door swung open and the man stood in the doorway, face petulant and hair a mess.

“I told you, it’s your funeral.”

“I’m okay with going to the gym. It’s just— is he going to be so… preachy? The whole time? He’s already making us go get coffee at some weird shop rather than the Starbucks that’s just across from the gym.”

“Undoubtedly,” Nikolai grins. “Just wait until he starts to bounce his poetry ideas off of you.”

Saints help me, Mal thought.

SUNDAY (always comes too late).

So maybe it wasn’t all bad, but Mal wasn’t going to tell anyone that least of all Tolya.

Which brought him here, outside Wraith’s Cafe for the second day in a row. He still didn’t understand the elaborate gimmick. The baristas were called “Heartrenders” and all the coffees had increasingly confusing names. He didn’t even like coffee all that much.

What he did like, however, was the cute barista— no, Heartrender that served them yesterday.

Walking into the small shop, he scanned behind the counter for any sign of the dark haired girl. She shouldn’t be hard to miss, she had been wearing a bright red “trainee” badge yesterday. Joining the line, his shoulder slumped when he only saw two girls working, neither the girl from yesterday.

“Hi there,” Called the red headed one. “What can I get you?”

“Um,” Mal stuttered. “Surprise me?”

The petite dark haired one laughed from where she was preparing a drink. “I don’t know if you want Nina to give you any surprises.”

“I’ll be nice, Inej. This one looks nice.”

“Hopefully not too nice.”

Nina gasped, suddenly and dramatically. “Of course not! You know I only have eyes for you, my love.”

Mal awkwardly paid for his mystery drink, and stood back to watch the two girls flit around each other in what looked like a very practiced dance.

“Is it just the two of you?” He found himself blurting out without permission from his brain.

“Yes, but we manage, don’t we?” The small one, Inej replies.

“We do,” Nina confirms. “Our staff is small but mighty. It gets busier during the school season, though. If you are looking for a job, follow our Instagram and wait and see.”

She points to a sign declaring @thewraith with a wink.

Mal had no intention of finding a job, but it could come in handy for other things.

(i don’t care if) MONDAY(‘s blue).

It wasn’t creepy.

It wasn’t. So what if he followed the store’s Instagram just to figure out what Barista Girl’s name was.

It worked, either way.

Alina.

Her name was Alina.

Weirdly enough, it felt familiar to him. It felt as though something was ringing in his consciousness when he read it. He tries to think of any Alina’s he might have known from Keramzin, but none come to mind. Not that he remembered a lot of his years as a child anyway. Between losing his biological parents and the orphanage, it wasn’t always the happiest times. He’d have to ask his parents if they have any lists or yearbooks stashed away back home. He wanted to be able to shake this feeling, but he couldn’t.

Alina. Alina. Alina. Alin-

“MAL!” Nikolai shouted from across the couch. “Get your ass off your phone and play FIFA with me.”

Pocketing his phone, he shot Nikolai a dirty look.

“You’re just grumpy, your precious coffee shop is closed today.” Nikolai teased.

“I told you! Tolya was right for once, they just have good coffee.”

“Uh-huh. No other reason, I’m sure.”

It wasn’t creepy!

TUESDAY (grey).

With classes officially started, it seemed reasonable to go get a cup of coffee before his afternoon started.

Sure, the Wraith Cafe was entirely out of his way, and he would have to take two different buses to get there from campus, but it was only logical.

If Alina happened to be working, well it was just a happy coincidence.

Nina was there again, and Mal had requested the same drink she made him last time.

He overheard Nina instruct Alina to make it, and when she was finished she called out to Mal.

“Hi, I hope it’s alright.” Alina blushed. “I’m still new and that was a bit tricky.”

“Hi!” Mal stupidly echoed back, internally wincing at his out of character awkwardness. “I’m sure it’s fine.”

He took a giant sip, just to prove it.

His mouth was quickly overtaken by an indescribable taste. If he had to try and put a name to it, it might have been dirt.

Plastering a smile on his face that he hopes doesn’t look like a grimace, he lets out a weak “It’s great!”

Alina doesn’t seem to believe him, and Mal catches Nina rushing to the back with laughter clear on her face.

“I’m so so so sor—“

Mal cuts her off with a wave of his hands, and notices his phone vibrating.

“Actually, I have to go.” Mal tells her. “Thank you for the coffee, I loved it. Really.”

Stuffing five dollars into the tip jar, Mal rushes out of the building before Alina can say anything else.

and WEDNESDAY (too).

Mal was feeling pretty good about himself.

He didn’t go to the coffee shop, he didn’t check Instagram, he didn’t even think about Alina.

He was out for wings and beers, a Wednesday traditional hailing back from their first year. Nikolai, Tolya and Tamar were huddled around the pub’s little table.

“So, Mal,” Tamar started. “How’s the workouts going? Wanted to kill my brother yet?”

“No, of course not! Only maim him at best.”

“He introduced Mal to his new favourite place.” Nikolai interjected.

“Don’t even start Nik.” Mal warned.

“What’s all this about?” Mal didn’t like the sudden gleam in Tamar’s eyes. Even Tolya looked to be hiding a smile.

“Our boy’s got a little crush on one of the baristas.” Nikolai explained. “I don’t think I’ve seen him like this, it’s quite cute actually.”

“There’s nothing going on!” Mal exclaimed. “If I buy us the next round, will you all can it?”

“Yes of course, I won’t utter one more word.” Nikolai replied solemnly.

“Cross my heart and hope to die.” Tamar added.

Giving them one last look, Mal approached the bar and tried to get bartenders attention. Seeing how busy the place was, Mal sits on a stool and opens up his phone and checks Twitter.

“I said I wouldn’t say anything else.” Nikolai yells.

THURSDAY (i don’t care about you).

“Listen to Bert and Ernie.” Nikolai says from over Mal’s shoulder. Mal jerks his phone out of sight of his prying eyes.

“Mikhael and Dubrov,” Mal corrects. “And no.”

“No? What’s the issue? You asked out The Zoya Nazyalensky back in freshman year.”

“Actually, she asked me out.”

“That’s even worse Mal!” Nikolai groans. “The hottest girl on campus asks you out, and you’re still getting all shy over this coffee girl? You said she seemed friendly today.”

“You ask out Zoya and I’ll ask you Alina.”

“No way.” Nikolai replies. “I don’t have a death wish. Let me come with you tomorrow, I can be your wingman.”

“I think I’m confused, do you want me to go out with Alina or not?”

“I’m the best wingman and you know it!”

“Last time you tried, I’m pretty sure the girl thought that you were my boyfriend.”

Nikolai grins. “Well, it’s not my fault we’re both so handsome together.”

“Oh piss off.” Mal warns. “I’ll ask her tomorrow. By myself.”

FRIDAY (i’m in love).

He could do this.

He just had to go in there, ask for a coffee and then give her his number.

Easy. Simple.

Difficult.

“Hi there Alina!” He greeted.

She gave him a funny look, a small smile forming on her face, “How do you know my name.”

“Oh!” Mal floundered. “I heard uh… Inej! Yeah Inej use it the other day.”

Alina turned around to look at Inej, smile only growing larger. Inej merely shrugged and turned back to Nina.

“Well it’s not fair that I don’t know your name.”

“Mal! Malyen, to be specific.” Mal could feel his stomach turning, he’d never felt so nervous in his life.

“Malyen… I used to know a Malyen.” She mused. “Nevermind though, I guess I should ask what you want?”

“Oh yeah of course, let’s see…” Mal trailed off. Not knowing how else to continue the conversation, Mal placed his order and stepped to the side to wait.

Alina kept looking at him while she was making the drink, and Mal could feel his cheeks getting warmer and warmer.

Finally, she walked over drink in hand.

“Well… here you go, Mal.”

“Yeah… I guess, I guess I’ll see you later?” Mal didn’t make a move to leave.

Mal and Alina stared at each other for a moment.

The moment turned into two. Three. Four.

“Oh for Saint’s sake!” Nina yelled, storming over.

“Mal, this is Alina. Alina, this is Mal. You clearly both fancy each other, so Alina why don’t you take your break now and have a real conversation for once.”

“Uh—“

“I…”

“Do I have to do everything for you?” Nina laughed, “What do you do for school? How old are you? Last names? Where are you from?”

Arts. Environmental Science.

Twenty. Twenty-one.

Starkov. Oretsev.

Keramzin. Keramzin.

“Wait… You’re Mal, from Keramzin?” Alina asked.

“Yeah, why… wait, Alina?” Mal nearly drops his coffee. “You moved away when we were young, you got adopted, you…”

“…We’re my best friend.” Alina finishes.

Mal’s jaw dropped and he felt as though he had to physically pick it up from the floor. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Inej and Nina whispering.

Inej kissed Nina on the cheek before walking over. “How about you take the rest of the day off, Alina? I think you have a lot of catching up to do.”

#malina #malina lovebots #mal oretsev #alina starvok #shadow and bone #elle writes

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thebluestbluewords · 3 years ago

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happy Femalash February everyone! Mal/Evie, bonding over clothes, ~2k. Some making out but nothing too explicit. *

Evie drops a pile of flimsy plastic shopping bags on the bed. There’s so many of them that one tips over immediately onto Mal’s book, spilling out a pile of silky fabric and tiny packages of multicolored sequins.

Mal nudges the sequins back with her pencil. She is a force of evil and chaos in the world, and she does not wear glitter. “Welcome back, princess,” she drawls, showing the pile back into the bag and off her book. “Big haul today?”

Evie sighs, dropping the last of the bags on the desk where she keeps her sewing machine.. “Like you wouldn’t believe, Mal.” she says, voice all dreamy, like she only gets when she’s been around lots of fabric for a while. It’s okay, Mal can handle being Evie’s second favorite thing sometimes. “There were stores with new clean bolts of fabric everywhere, and I knew they existed, but seeing them in person was just-- oh, it was a dream.”

“Found everything, I take it?”

Evie starts rummaging through her purse. “Yes. Premade things too, but I’m sure you’ll be doing some work on those.”

Mal would never say it out loud, but every time Evie asks her to paint on one of her designs, her heart actually skips a beat. “Show me your designs and I’ll see what I can do,” she says casually. Cool, that’s her. “I’ll give those new oil paints a spin, see what they can do.”

“You’ll do amazing, you always do. And oh, speaking of your part--” Evie says, pulling something small and heavy out of her purse. Mal can’t get a good glimpse of what it is, but it’s small enough for Evie to conceal completely in her palm, and it’s heavy enough that she’s weighing it a bit in her palm as she’s holding it. A gem, maybe? “I brought you a present.”

Evie tosses the object, and Mal catches it in both hands before she can think to avoid it. Ouch. She opens her clasped hands to unveil a tiny pair of scissors, small enough to conceal in her pocket, and made of something shiny and greenish that doesn’t feel like the standard steel blades of Evie’s other sewing scissors.

The spot on her hand is only bleeding a little bit, so Mal licks at the drip, and opens the blades to test them further. She’s already bleeding, it’s no big deal.

Ooh. These scissors have a bite to them.. That’s going to hurt if she needs to cut someone, and the fact that they seem to want to fold all the way out into a single blade is beautiful too, almost as clever and perfect as Evie herself. Mal resists the urge to taste the blade. She has some self control here, and it would be monumentally stupid to put a blade she’s already cut herself on twice up to her mouth.

The skin just below Mal’s lower lip stings slightly from the touch, but the sweet taste of the metal is worth it. “Not too blunt. Nice.”

“I knew you’d like,” Evie says, and tosses a bundle of fabric at Mal’s head. “There’s a bunch of your things in the yellow bag, you can go through them after you’ve looked at this.”

“Oof.” Mal says, catching the bundle, which immediately starts to unroll. The fabric is luxuriously soft, but it’s not what she’s paying the most attention to right now. It’s more fun to bother Evie. “Who’s got the big blue one there?” Mal asks, pointing to the bag.

Evie looks up from where she’s already sorting through her piles. “That’s not yours, babe. It’s for the boys. There’s a note that Jay and I found when we were going through Fairy Godmother’s records. They don’t think we came with enough things, especially the boys. They had a flyer from the child neglect people stapled to it and everything. That’s why I got to go out today. This wasn’t exactly a fun trip to spend all the funds we’ve made from doing a few magical haircuts.”

“The money--”

“Is pity cash, yes. I got prince Ben to give me access to one of the royal expense cards. Did you know they have a fund set up for this? Just for making sure we have things. He wanted to buy us cell phones, you know.”

Mal’s phone was stolen from one of the children in town who was stupid enough to leave it unattended in their pocket while the boys were around. “We have phones.”

“I know that,” Evie says, “Ben wanted to buy us ones that we didn’t have to steal and wipe first.”

“He knows about that?”

“No. He wanted to make sure we have them, though. Apparently they’re, ah.” Evie makes a pained face and lifts her delicate fingers into air quotes. “Essential to the teenage Auradon experience.”

“Weird. And he doesn’t care that we already stole some?”

Evie arches an eyebrow. “You think I told him how we acquired them?” she asks. “Babe, come on. Ben is a very nice prince and all, but he’s not one of us.” Evie pauses, just for a moment. “Anyway, you really should go though that pile I gave you. It’s mine. You should admire my genius in finding it.”

Right. Mal turns her attention downwards, to the soft fabric she’s been holding this whole time.

It’s so soft. Unbelievably, luxuriously soft. The fabric is ever so slightly plush, and cleaner than anything that Mal should ever be allowed to touch. It’s a blue so dark it’s nearly black, and there’s just the slightest bit of shimmer to it. When Mal unrolls it all the way, the fabric reveals itself to be a dress, short and shimmery, with glass beads sewn into the neckline in a pattern that looks like the stars themselves are falling down the chest.

It’s going to look incredible on Evie.

“It’s nice, right?” Evie says, beaming at Mal. “I’m going to wear it with my fishnet tights, I think. Maybe the silver boots, do you think they’d be cute?”

Evie’s going to look incredible no matter what she wears with the dress, but Mal is already weak for the silver boots and the way they make Evie’s ass look somehow even better than usual. “It’ll look amazing on you,” Mal croaks, mouth gone dry from imagining it. Evie, in all of her beautiful glory, wearing this dress and those tights that she had that are more hole than tight, curled up over Mal in the bed they’ve been sharing…

“Earth to Mal,” Evie calls, sounding absolutely fucking delighted with herself. “It’s a nice dress, and you know where it’ll look even nicer?”

“Unzipped and in my bed?” Mal manages, through the wave of pure lust that’s taken over her rational thinking (not that Evie would say she’s ever a very rational thinker, but the point still stands).

“I was going to say on my body, but I think I like your version better,” Evie says, and leans over to drop a perfect kiss on Mal’s forehead.

Oh.

Mal tilts her head up so that Evie can reach her lips. “Princess,” she growls, letting the word catch in her throat. “Eves. Hey.”

Evie leans back, eyes sparking as she looks at Mal. “Hey,” she says, her red, red lips curving up into a wicked smile. “I think there’s something on your face, Mally.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, it’s right--” Evie leans in, cupping Mal’s cheek in her hand as she does so. The edges of her nails, painted bright royal blue and gold today, just barely skim the underside of Mal’s jaw as she finishes the motion and tips Mal’s head up that final fraction of an inch. “Here.” she breathes, and kisses Mal squarely on the lips.

It’s a good fucking kiss. Warm and firm and just enough tongue, licking at the seam of Mal’s lips, to leave her wanting more. Mal sits up a little bit taller, pressing closer to Evie’s warmth. It’s a bit of an odd angle, but she uncurls a leg without breaking the kiss, and tangles it around until it’s draped around the backs of Evie’s thighs where she’s kneeling over her on the bed.

“Hey there, princess,” Mal manages before she just has to kiss Evie again, deeper, with a firm bite of her sharp teeth into the rich curve of Evie’s lower lip. Mm, Mal could stay here forever. Wants to, even, so long as Evie doesn’t stop kissing her.

“Hey yourself,” Evie murmurs, pulling back to break the kiss, breath hot against Mal’s open mouth, her lips, her tongue where they’re still sharing air. “I thought you were still studying, babe.”

“Fuck studying,” says Mal, with an unsurprising vehamance. Dragon anatomy 101 can go study itself for all she cares. “I’d much rather be studying you anyway.”

Evie giggles at that, and shifts on the bed until she’s kneeling comfortably with her legs tucked to either side of Mal’s body. “I don’t think my anatomy is going to help you remember all the parts of a Frabjous wing, babe.” she says, craning her neck just a bit to glance at the marked page in Mal’s book. “And I’m supposed to be working on new clothing for the poor, unfashionable citizens of Auradon.”

“A dire mission,” Mal agrees, running a hand through Evie’s hair and leaning down to kiss her again. The waxy taste of her lipstick is fainter now that Mal’s spent some important time sucking it off, but somehow there’s still only a single smudge out of place. “It may be too late for some of them. They’ll have to be exiled for their fashion crimes.”

“Mm,” Evie agrees, licking into Mal’s mouth on the second pass. “Too late indeed. That faux-fur coat I saw Marta looking at last week is a tragedy beyond belief, and do you know what was in the mailroom the other day?”

“Was it a mysteriously misplaced box that used to contain a faux-fur fashion disaster?”

“Why, I do believe it was!” Evie cries. “It was irreparably damaged during shipping, naturally. There’s a real issue lately with importing goods to Auradon, I hear.”

“You know, I heard that too,” Mal agrees. “It’s crazy how some of those imported goods just find their ways to places they don’t belong.”

“Mhm” Evie hums, biting her way along the side of Mal’s neck in quick, sharp little nips. “I heard that too.”

“But you know what does belong?” Mal says, between the sharp breaths that Evie is pulling out from deep in her chest.

Evie pulls back. Mal breathes deeply, and it’s so much less comfortable than when she’s gasping for more that she almost wants to cry.

“Is it my hands on your ass right now?” Evie asks dryly, lips quirked up into a blood-red smile.

“It is!” Mal agrees, moving her hands to get a little ass action herself. Mm, skirts are a pain in the ass to wear, but so good to get under. “I think there could stand to be a couple more clothes in your piles, d’you think?”

“I suppose I could be convinced,” Evie says, holding back a grin. “If you’re going to be the first contribution, that is.”

“Oh, I’m already there.” Mal says, and tosses her shirt off. An excellent first contribution to the pile if she does say so herself. “Just in the interests of fashion, you know.”

“Oh, naturally. Let me just add my tights there, they could use some time in the pile, just for variety’s sake.”

“If it’s for the better interests of fashion, I’d better take a really close look at what those tights were hiding. Get the full comparison, really taste the differences.” Mal says, pulling Evie up to where she’s already sprawled out across their bed.

“You’re not subtle at all babe,” Evie sighs, and moves to straddle Mal’s shoulders. “I should hold out for a better line. Make you really work for it.”

Mal’s lines are amazing, much like her skills at technology. They give others around her something to be amazed at. With technology it’s usually amazement if she doesn’t blow the thing up within five minutes of touching it. With girls, well.

It’ll be amazing if she ever fails to convince Evie to make out with her.

#my fic #malvie #descendants #evie grimhilde #mal bertha #found this lost in my documents today!!!#happy February everyone it’s cold and damp but at least there’s fic

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thera-daydreams · 4 years ago

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ya'll... just imagine the Inday spinoff ideas I have like, see? 😃

cleaning basilio's smelly room (ft. team trese, hank, + ipis)

roadtrip with mal & beach bbq w/the trese barkada [nearly gone wrong when mal went over the speed limit 3x]

vlogging in dom's hacienda (ft. reginathereyna & aswang bodyguards)

spa & facial dayoff with the trese peeps

hot girl summer makeup + ukay haul & photoshoot (ft. hangin babes)

rating bubble tea shops with bff alex [who badly needs sleep & sugar] + her goth godess gf ibu's emissary

dinner with your manliligaws + your possible in-laws (ft. señor armanaz, datu talagbusao, & madam ramona)

fluff moments with team trese whenever gabay turns into a lil' toddler [who's super picky with their food]

divorce counseling with isagani the ex

idk, might add them as one special chapter or something—i just need more trese content, so i might keep updating this list when i get ideas 🙇‍♀️😭

... i need help 🥴

#thera.thoughts #trese.works #trese

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telli1206 · 4 years ago

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Could you do 38 or 12 with Malvie?

Sure @stepha424! Thanks for the ask 😊 I'm going to go with #38, “I don’t want to make it obvious that I love you.” “We have been together for almost five years, baby. Don’t bother.” I may have to tweak the words a little bit, though! I hope you like it!

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“Do you think you can hold one more thing?”

Evie’s brown eyes are wide and hopeful, as if she thinks Mal would even consider saying no to her. And Mal’s already hauling three huge bolts of fabric that are almost as tall as she is, so she has every right to say no. She’s not even sure she can add one more to the almost teetering pile already stacked across her forearms.

But, this IS Evie asking. And pouting. Fuck, those red lips should be illegal. It would make Mal’s life much easier if they were, she has no doubt.

“Of course, Eves. Can you just...drop it on top?”

Evie’s eyes crinkle from the wideness of her smile, and she lets out a happy squeal as she drops the fourth bolt of fabric into Mal’s waiting arms, stopping to plant a quick kiss to her cheek as she does so.

“Thank you thank you! We’re almost done here, I swear,” she tells Mal, and her girlfriend simply sighs quietly in response and continues to follow Evie’s lead through the fabric store. Mal’s already heard promises similar to that five different times on this shopping trip alone. But who’s counting?

“Oooooh!” Evie coos, pointing at a display of fabric flowers. She dives in front of Mal, startling her and making her jump back a little, causing an awkward stumble that almost knocks her off her feet. She grumbles as she manages to balance again, brows raised when she sees a clueless Evie waving something in front of her face.

“Oh Mals! They have little Peonies! These will be PERFECT for that fascinator Fairy Godmother requested. I just...”

Evie frowns as she examines her cart. It’s completely overflowing with items, so much so that one more item might just topple her perfect mound of buttons and clasps, curved carefully over the other piles of ribbon and fabrics.

Still frowning, she turns to Mal and gives her a careful once-over, paying close attention to her overfull hands before coming to a stop at her face. She pauses there, and stares so intensely that Mal starts to feel heat rise in her cheeks.

“W-Why are you looking at me like that?”

Evie quirks a smile and leans in. Mal’s heart thuds rapidly at the sight of Evie’s ruby red lips coming closer to hers, and she lets her eyes slip shut to eagerly anticipate their contact. But her brow crinkles in confusion when there are fingers in her hair instead, with something being tucked against her ear. Her eyes shoot open just as Evie pulls back, her smile brighter and more victorious.

“There, that’s perfect! Can we keep those there until we check out?”

Mal shakes her head a little, catching the droop of a peony out of the corner of her eye. She frowns, still staring at the flower intruding her vision. But even the flower in her face can’t distract from Evie’s delicious pout.

“Pleeeeease, babe?”

She’s trying to look sad, tilting her head to look up through her lashes. But there’s laughter behind her eyes. She can’t hide that from Mal, not after being so close for so long. She knows how fucked her girlfriend is for her, and Mal would be lying if she tried to deny it.

Evie Grimhilde has always had Mal wrapped around her perfectly manicured finger.

“Evil, you know I’m going to say yes, so just quit it, will you? I don’t want to make it obvious to every single person in Auradon how much I love you, ok?”

Evie breaks into a grin, leaning in again to give Mal the kiss she had been waiting for. When she finally pulls back, they’re both smiling, and Evie pauses to wipe streaks of red off of her girlfriend’s lips with her thumb.

“Now now, Mally. We’ve been together for almost five years, haven’t we? Don’t even bother trying to hide it. You’re sweet on me and everyone knows it.”

She’s goes in for another quick peck, despite only just getting off the excess lipstick from before.

“Besides, I love you too, Mal Bertha. And I don’t care who knows it.”

Feel free to send me a Descendants drabble request from this list - I’ll write any ship! I really need to garner some motivation for my WIPs 😁

#drabble prompt #ship asks #malvie asks #stepha424 #malvie #mal & evie #evie grimhilde #mal bertha #descendants

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computerhousewife · 3 days ago

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yippie

#mals shopping hauls

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quickspinner · 4 years ago

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Guard My Heart - Ch 1 Daylight’s Wasting

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Read on AO3

Written for @livrever as part of the @lovebugs-and-snakecharmers Secret Admirer Lukanette Exchange!

Happy LBSC Exchaaaaaaaaange and I'm the one who gets to write for @livrever, who's been doing so much heavy lifting making sure everything runs smoothly this year! Because I am a sucker I decided to combine her prompts (I should have known better, since the last time I combined prompts from Mal I ended up with Killer Combo) soooooo today you get a first chapter instead of a completed story. I'll reveal the second prompt when it is time, but the first one was neighboring shop owners. I opted for slightly different than the traditional take for Reasons.

I love you to pieces Mal and I really hope you enjoy the journey!

Marinette is moving out on her own and starting her own shop, where she can be the boss and responsible for no one but herself. The years have taught her that for Ladybug to do her job, Marinette has to maintain a certain amount of distance in her personal life...but how's she supposed to do that when a blast from the past is moving in next door? Especially when she's got a box full of nosy kwamis cheering her on...This was not the new beginning she had in mind!

Rating: M, Implied sexual content in later chapters

“This is the big day,” Tikki crowed from Marinette's shoulder, and Marinette tried to smile as she carefully maneuvered her rented van around all the other vehicles crowding the back alley. “Come on, Marinette,” Tikki said gently, nuzzling up against her cheek. “It’s okay to be excited.”

“I am excited,” Marinette told her, putting the vehicle in park. “This is a big deal, Tikki. It’s just that there’s a lot of work to do and I need to be focused on that right now.”

“I wish you didn’t have to do all of this alone,” Tikki fretted. “It’s a lot to do by yourself. Are you sure you don’t want to call anyone?”

“I’ll manage,” Marinette smiled, flexing her arm for Tikki’s benefit. “Besides,” she sighed, opening the door as Tikki zipped into the purse at her hip. “Who would I call?”

Tikki didn’t have a chance to answer as Marinette jumped down from the van. She glanced around the alley at her fellow business owners who were also moving in. Some of them looked almost finished; some, like her, were only just getting started.

Marinette tried not to feel a little irked at the people who were already almost done. How early had they gotten here? Maybe their renovations had been finished earlier and they’d gotten a head start. Marinette pouted for a moment, and then tried to put it out of her mind. It wasn’t a competition, after all. She just needed to focus on her own work. She had a strict schedule written out and taped to the inside of the van that would have her moved into her new shop and the apartment above it, hopefully in time to make a quick run for groceries before it got too late.

Besides, the other shop owners probably had help or had hired people, whereas Marinette was depending on nothing but her own muscles. She couldn’t afford to hire anybody, she didn’t want to wait until her parents were free, and her friends...well. She had her life and they had their lives and other than a few friendly texts now and then, their paths didn’t really cross anymore except for major life events. Despite Tikki’s hints that opening her first boutique should have fallen into that category, it just didn’t seem worth the effort to push the issue. Marinette could do this alone. She was used to it.

A smile grew on her face as she pulled the shiny new keys from her pocket and unlocked the back door of the shop. Marinette couldn’t help a muffled squeal and a hop of excitement as it swung open wide. She kicked down the doorstop to hold it open, and went inside.

Marinette passed through the back room that would serve as storage and workshop, and into the small storefront. She stood there for a moment, suddenly feeling shaky and a bit short of breath. She swallowed. “This is a really big deal, Tikki,” she said, dropping unceremoniously to the floor. She ran her fingertips over the rough texture of the commercial carpeting she had picked out. “I can’t screw this up.”

“You won’t, Marinette,” Tikki assured her, peeping out cautiously. “It’s going to be okay. One step at a time, remember?”

“Right,” Marinette agreed, still breathless, and she pushed herself back up. “Time to get to work.”

She got to her feet, and went back through the shop and then upstairs to the apartment, propping all the doors open, mentally reviewing her plan and where everything would go. Marinette felt both excitement and relief at the thought of finally living on her own, with no one else to make excuses to. Starting tonight, no one would be monitoring her coming and going, or asking where she’d been, or complaining that she’d left her share of the chores undone. No one to report to, no one to worry, no one to disappoint. As nervous as she was about the risks of this new venture, that alone would be a weight off her shoulders.

Doors open and empty rooms ready, Marinette went back outside. She threw up the gate on the back of the van, pulled out the ramp, and took a deep breath as she surveyed the contents, nervousness suddenly threatening to overshadow her earlier confidence. “Okay,” she murmured to herself. “It looks like a lot, all stuffed together like this, but I can do it. Somehow.”

Marinette had packed the van carefully, and her boxes were meticulously labelled and color coded with stickers, so that she knew as soon as she picked a box up whether it was for the shop interior, the back room, or the apartment upstairs. Her world narrowed to the task before her, and she didn’t even notice the looks she got as she hauled box after box and pieces of disassembled furniture into her new space. Her muscles burned, but it was a familiar sensation, a normal sensation. Marinette had learned to take comfort from anything normal, especially on a day like today, when so much was changing. The burn was a reminder to pause and stretch and take a moment to breathe, and that helped keep her focused.

When it started to verge on too much, Marinette sat down on the ledge of her propped-open shop door to rest and drink a bottle of water, mentally assessing her progress and comparing it against her schedule. She was doing pretty well, she thought, although the hard stuff was still to come.

“Marinette?”

She jumped, nearly spilling her water all over herself, and looked up to the man who had spoken to her. Her mouth dropped open in surprise. “L-Luka?” she gasped, scrambling to her feet. “Is that you?”

He grinned, and there was no mistaking it. His hair was a little bit longer, still streaked with blue but tied back at the nape of his neck, and his bangs were clipped back away from his sweaty face. His dimples were more prominent in his leaner face, his jaw more defined, but his smile and his eyes were the same. “Hey,” he said, as calmly as if they’d last seen each other yesterday instead of almost ten years ago, as he adjusted the box he was holding. “Wow, what a surprise, meeting you here.” That was putting it mildly, and Marinette almost laughed at the typically Luka understatement. His eyes flicked to the propped open door and his eyebrows went a little higher. “Are you...moving in?”

“Yeah,” Marinette said, running her hand through her sweaty bangs, and trying to find the ground again. She hadn’t expected to run into anybody she knew today, let alone Luka. She hadn’t even known for sure that he was back in Paris. Marientte felt a pang looking at him, something between guilt and grief, and she suddenly didn’t know what to say.

Luka shifted his box again, drawing her eyes to both the box and the bunched muscles in the arms holding it. Her eyes snapped back to his face. “Wait,” she said incredulously, “Are you—”

“Yep,” he grinned, and nodded at the next door down from hers. “I’m on the corner, so...looks like we’re gonna be neighbors.” He groaned and hiked the box up again. “I’m sorry, I’ve gotta put this down, but—when we’re done, maybe we could grab coffee or something, catch up? If you want to?”

“Sure!” Marinette smiled brightly. “I’d love to.”

The slow grin that spread over his face made her insides wobble a little. Wow, she thought, he really grew up. That smile had been intense enough when they were younger; with the sharper features of his more mature face it was devastating. “Okay. I’ll come over when I’m done and give you a hand if you’re still working. See you later.”

“Bye.” Marinette waved weakly, as Luka went to his own door, propped open like hers was. “Oh my God, Tikki,” Marinette hissed, and heard a giggle near her hip. “This isn’t funny, Tikki, what am I going to do?”

“Just go with it, Marinette,” Tikki advised cheerfully. “I know you’ve been lonely, and Luka was always a good friend to you. Maybe this is fate bringing you back together!”

“Tikki,” Marinette sighed, and leaned back against the building behind her, tipping her head back to knock gently against it. She paused, and then opened her purse to look down at the kwami and give her a look. “Fate, or luck?”

“Does it matter?” Tikki asked, shrugging. Her big eyes softened and she reached out just enough to pat Marinette’s hand. “I know you feel bad about the way you two left things, but Luka was always good for you, and you could use a friend like him right now. It doesn’t have to be romantic, Marinette. Don’t overthink it. It’s not good for you to be so alone, so just give it a chance and see what happens!”

Marinette rolled her eyes and sighed, and then checked the time. She needed to get moving if she wanted to stay on schedule, and people were going to think she was crazy if they saw her talking to her handbag.

She had to wait a moment, though, when she got back to the van, for her legs to steady. Luka Couffaine...she hadn’t seen him since he left to tour with Jagged Stone when they were kids. She bit her lip hard. Ugh, how could Luka even want to be her friend now after the way things had happened back then…she’d been so confused, and trying so hard to manage her life and her feelings, and she’d been failing so miserably. Luka had been so kind to her, and tried to help, and she hadn’t even kept in touch with him when he left. If anyone had genuine reason to call her a bad friend, it would definitely be Luka.

Marinette swallowed and took a deep breath and climbed up into the van. Focus, she told herself. Just focus on what you have to do.

She grabbed the closest box and hauled it out blindly. She risked a glance over as she walked by, and saw several young men and a woman, all with multicolored hair, carrying furniture from an even larger moving van into Luka’s place. Then she put her head down and went to her own door, determined.

Marinette did her best not to look towards Luka’s van again, telling herself it would only distract her, and she couldn’t afford to be distracted if she wanted to get this task done.

Everything went according to plan until she got to the wrought iron headboard of her new bed. She’d been able to lift it on her own before, but she realized now, as her arms trembled, that she should have placed this a little earlier in the unloading order. Well, she was going to have to make it work. She got it down the ramp of the van, and had to stand for a moment, bracing it as her muscles twitched and trembled, as she looked at the distance she had to cover to get to the door and thought of the stairs after that. She swore softly, and leaned her forehead against the frame as she tried to muster the strength.

A hand squeezed her shoulder. “We got it, just tell us where you want it,” Luka said, as Marinette looked up at him in surprise.

“Oh,” she said reflexively, “I can—”

“I know you can,” Luka grunted, grabbing one end of the headboard as one of his friends got the other. “But something like this is easier with two people.” He grinned. “Upstairs, I assume?”

“Y-yeah,” Marinette stammered weakly. “The bedroom. Um—” She ran back up in the van and grabbed the first pink-stickered box she came to. “This way,” she smiled at the boys, and went ahead of them, face burning.

“Dude, this is so much easier than all that heavy shit you brought,” Luka’s friend groaned, and Marinette giggled in spite of herself when Luka cheerfully told him to kiss his ass. The boys carried her headboard in and leaned it against the wall where Marinette directed.

“Thank you,” she told them sincerely, and Luka winked at her as he followed his friend out.

“Let us know if you need a hand with anything else,” he told her, and they were gone before Marinette had a chance to say anything else.

She ended up not having to ask him for help at all, because anytime she was struggling, either Luka or one or more of his friends would pop up to help her. Marinette was both touched by Luka’s concern and willingness to help, and angry at herself, for planning so poorly that she needed the help in the first place—no matter how much his friends joked that hauling her stuff was a nice break compared to hauling Luka’s.

Stupid, she scolded herself. Took on too much, as usual, and what would you have done if Luka hadn’t been around? Poor guy, he wasn’t expecting to have to haul extra stuff today, either. We’re back in touch for one day and he’s already having to bail me out. Just like old times. Nice to know I haven’t grown in the least in the last ten years. She kept working with grim determination, trying not to look like she needed more help, and getting angrier at herself every time one of them stopped to give her a hand.

Finally, she was done. She locked up the van and the apartment, and then went to stand once again in her shop front. There was still a lot to be done to it over the next two weeks before the big grand opening event, but now that the move-in was done, she could finally get started. Some of the fixtures she had negotiated with the leasing company, like the carpeted pedestal in one corner where she could do fittings and the full-length three-way mirrors. She’d created the countertop for her register herself, but the company had built the counter and installed her custom top on it for her. Marinette drifted over to it now and ran her fingertips over the resin surface with her monogram M and real pink flowers embedded in it. It turned out really well, she thought to herself, and smiled. That was one thing that went right, at least.

“Marinette?”

She jumped, but then remembered she hadn’t closed the back door yet. “I’m in here,” she called, and a moment Luka came through the door of the workroom, looking around. He grinned, seeing her stand behind the register. “Making yourself at home?” He moved around the front as if he were a customer, and Marinette giggled.

“Something like that,” she said with a shrug. “How goes the unloading?”

“I’m sweaty and filthy, but at least we’re done,” Luka grinned, leaning both elbows on Marinette’s handmade custom countertop. She resisted the urge to shove him off it. “How about you? Need anymore help with anything?”

Marinette shook her head quickly. “No, thank you. I’m done, and I feel disgusting.” She grinned weakly. “To be honest, there’s nothing I want less right now than coffee.”

“Agreed,” Luka chuckled. “I’ll buy you whatever you want, as long as it’s cold.” He winced slightly. “And cheap. This place kinda cleaned me out.”

“I hear you,” Marinette laughed, coming out from behind the counter. It felt too weird, having it between them. “I’m in the same boat. The only reason I could afford this at all is because my grandpa passed away and left all his things to me. Turned out there were a bunch of companies waiting for the old man to die so they could make a bid on his house. They’ve been trying to get the property for years but Grandpa wouldn't sell.” She folded her arms and leaned back on the counter next to him as Luka straightened to face her.

“I’m sorry about your Grandpa,” Luka said, putting his hand on her shoulder. The hand was bigger, but the gesture was the same, and Marinette felt a tender pang for the boy who had loved her. “I know your relationship with him was complicated.” Marinette nodded, but she didn’t really want to talk about it. Luka dropped his hand and gestured towards the door. “Listen, I still owe my friends Chinese and beer for helping me move—and before you say anything, I budgeted for that in my moving expenses.”

“You sound so responsible,” Marinette giggled, and he made a face at her before continuing.

“Why don’t you join us, if you feel up to it?” he suggested. “If not, that’s cool, I can bring you back something and we can catch up some other time when we’ve had a little more rest.”

Marinette hesitated a moment. She wasn’t sure she was up to meeting new people, and a shower would feel awfully good right now, but...they had helped her, and she felt like it would be rude to turn down their company. She bit her lip and glanced at Luka.

He smiled. “No pressure. If you just want to relax after all this, that’s okay. I can’t believe how much crap you moved out of that van all by yourself.” His brow creased for a moment, but he seemed to change his mind about saying anything else, and just waited.

So Luka. Marinette smiled suddenly. “Papa’s going to help me with the one or two really big things this weekend, and the rest I figured I could handle myself. I guess I overestimated myself a little bit. I really appreciated your help, though. I do want to relax, but…it has been ages since we could hang out. If you don’t think your friends will mind—a cold beer sounds awfully good right now…”

Luka snorted. “Since I’m buying, they’re not allowed to mind,” he said with a grin.

Feeling daring, Marinette linked her arm through Luka’s. “Tell you what. Since we’re both on the verge of broke right now, how about we each buy our own drinks, and I pay for my share of the food plus a little bit to cover you guys helping me out,” she suggested, “and the first one to hit the black owes the other dinner?”

“Deal,” Luka grinned, and warmth fluttered in Marinette’s stomach.

“So, um,” she said, looking away as they walked back out of the shop. “Music shop?”

Luka chuckled as they paused by the door so Marinette could lock up. “You’d think, but, ah...actually, it’s antiques and collectibles. And uh...curiosities.” He rolled his eyes. “I’m not allowed to say junk, but you know Mom. Her taste is...weird.”

“Really?” Marinette looked back at him, shocked. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope. Mom’s been on her world tour, sending home crap from all over, and finally there didn’t seem anything else to do.” He gave her a sideways grin that told her there was probably more to the story than that, but he clearly didn’t want to talk about it. He offered her his arm again as she turned away from the door. “I talked to her about it and we went in on the shop together. She’s going to be my buyer and I’m going to run the business. A lot of what I’ve got is music related, though,” he admitted. “And I’ve maybe started a little collection of my own. I still love playing, but I like small audiences anyway, and well...if the shop does okay, then I’m hoping I’ll have a little more freedom to pick and choose my gigs without worrying about whether I’m going to eat that month.” He winced. “We’ll...see how that works out for me. Mom’s pretty gung ho, but...” He shrugged. “She never really was one for practicalities. I mean, I know I won’t starve if the place fails, she and...and Jagged would bail me out if I were really in trouble, but I really don’t want to have to fall back on that.” Marinette nodded sympathetically at the expression on his face. It seemed like he still had mixed feelings about Jagged, even after all this time, and Marinette could hardly blame him. “To be honest,” he went on, “this whole thing is kind of a gamble and I’m nervous about it, but it beats working for The Man, right?”

“Tell me about it,” Marinette sighed.

Luka put his hand over hers where it rested on his arm and she looked up at him. “Hey,” he said, in the same gentle way he used to when they were kids. “We got this. We’re gonna kick ass and be living in luxury.”

Marinette laughed. “I’d settle for being able to afford pizza.”

Luka groaned. “Please don’t mention pizza, I’m still traumatized.”

Marinette laughed again, and leaned into his arm, and he leaned back, chuckling along with her, and...it was like nothing had ever changed. Marinette felt her breath catch and a sudden lump in her throat, and Luka paused.

“Hey, you okay?” he asked softly, looking down at her.

Marinette nodded quickly, blinking back the tears that wanted to come out. “Sorry, I—I’m just glad to see you again, that’s all.”

Luka smiled at her, and maybe it was just the heat but she thought he was blushing slightly. He took her hand off his arm and moved it down to his own hand, and threaded his fingers tightly through hers. “Likewise,” he said, squeezing, and Marinette smiled, squeezing back. She was selfishly glad to find he hadn’t changed too much, deep down. His hand dwarfed hers the same way it always had, but it gave her an odd little flutter now to look at her fingers between his. They stood for just a moment, and then Luka started walking again, tugging her along with him. He let go of her hand just before they reached the group of his friends standing around and put his hand on her back instead. “Hey, guys, this is Marinette. We’ve been friends for a long time and I haven’t seen her for ages, so she’s coming along with us.”

Marinette gave an awkward wave. “Thanks a bunch for the help,” she said, “I told Luka I’d help pick up the tab as thanks.“ They all grinned at her.

“Congrats, you’ve just won their undying loyalty,” Luka commented dryly. “Bunch of mercenaries.” He put just a little pressure against her back and gestured vaguely. “There’s a place a couple blocks over, we were just going to walk if that’s okay with you.”

“Of course,” Marinette agreed, and the small group shuffled off. Luka let his hand fall once she started moving, but he stayed beside her, which she secretly appreciated, since the others were strangers. They seemed perfectly comfortable with each other, though, joking and shoving and teasing. Marinette found herself smiling as she watched them. This was what she was fighting so hard to protect, after all, even if it was something she couldn’t really have anymore.

Luka touched her arm lightly, and when she looked up at him, he raised his eyebrows at her slightly in silent inquiry. She smiled at him to let him know she was good. He relaxed a little, and turned back to the conversation.

There was some friendly chaos as everyone ordered their food and Luka and Marinette negotiated the split, but finally they all had their dinners and enough chairs to seat everyone. Marinette hadn’t realized how hungry she was until her food was in front of her.

“Ugh, I’m so hungry,” Luka moaned beside her, and there was a chorus of agreement that made her chuckle. The chatter didn’t exactly stop, but it slowed down considerably as they all applied themselves to their food.

Marinette focused on her plate and just let the talk flow around her, thoughts drifting again to all of the things she needed to do between now and the grand opening.

She only realized she had lost the thread of the conversation entirely when Evan’s words caught her attention again.

“I dunno, man, this neighborhood’s had bad juju since Ladybug and Chat Noir took down Hawkmoth,” he was saying, shaking his head slightly. “The whole area was levelled. Even though Ladybug fixed it, people don’t seem to stay and businesses don’t stay open. My sister said that’s why they shut everything down and redid all the buildings. One last-ditch effort at trying to revive the place. Turn it into artisan shops, make it attractive to tourists and hipsters.”

Luka shrugged. “I feel a lot better about my chances now that I know Marinette’s next door,” he said, nudging her with his elbow and grinning at her when she swatted him. “She’s got a great head for business and marketing. It can’t be a lost cause if she’s here.”

Marinette snorted. “Maybe it’s just all I could afford,” she said, making a face at him.

“The price was right, that’s for sure,” Luka admitted. “Either way, it can only benefit me to have you attracting traffic next door. Although maybe I’m assuming too much, are you still doing fashion?”

“Yes,” Marinette confirmed. “I graduated from ESMOD last year. I’ve...well, I decided the regular industry jobs aren’t for me, and that I’d be better off working somewhere where I could be the boss.” Also I can’t stay employed when I have to run off to akuma attacks constantly.

“I’m just surprised you picked this spot, that’s all,” Evan chuckled. “I thought sailors were superstitious.”

“We’re also cheap,” Luka snorted. “This was the best option I had that didn’t involve going to the old man, and—”

“And that woulda been fireworks,” Dingo laughed. “I almost wish you’d suggested it so I could’ve watched the Captain freak out about it.”

“Yeah, I’m sure it would have been fun for you. ” Luka threw a peanut at him. “Since I’d be the one in the blast radius, I don’t think so.”

“Well, just so you know, I’m gonna laugh my ass off if Harvester levels this neighborhood the week after your grand opening,” Evan cut back in.

“Unlikely,” Marinette said without thinking, and everyone turned to look at her. She blinked, and then shrugged. “Hawkmoth caused damage on purpose, to lure out Ladybug and Chat Noir because he wanted their Miraculous. Harvester doesn’t seem to care about the Miraculous; she’ll take them if she can get them, but she’s just...I don’t know, greedy. She causes plenty of damage on a small scale, but she doesn’t usually destroy whole neighborhoods. There’s nothing where we are that’s worth her targeting, though. Besides, her targets tend to be in the wealthier areas of town.” She made a slightly sour face. It was bad enough that they hadn’t managed to recover the butterfly with Hawkmoth’s defeat. It was worse that it fell into the hands of someone as selfish and greedy as Harvester. She was barely more than a petty thief, and it was a burn to Ladybug’s pride that they hadn’t been able to catch her yet.

Trouble was, because Harvester lacked the kind of focus that Hawkmoth had had, she was less predictable, and more ruthless. There had been a certain rhythm to Hawkmoth’s attacks that Ladybug and Chat Noir had learned to work with over time to minimize damage. Harvester was much more random. She didn’t care what kind of damage she caused, she didn’t care if people got hurt—she just didn’t care, period. She wanted attention, and she wanted expensive things, and she didn’t care who suffered if she didn’t get her way.

Scratch that. She did care about one person’s suffering—Ladybug’s. She didn’t seem to care about their Miraculous, but she wanted Ladybug. Alive if possible, but she’d shown more than once that she wasn’t opposed to Ladybug very painfully dead, either.

Marinette shuddered.

Luka’s hand fell on her shoulder and she looked up at him, startled.

“You okay?” he asked softly, leaning in a little.

“Yeah, of course,” she lied automatically, with a bright, extremely fake smile. “Just tired.”

She’d forgotten how good Luka was at seeing lies. She could see in his face that he didn’t believe her, but he gave her a small smile that said it’s okay, you don’t have to tell me, and turned back to the table.

Marinette took a breath and tried to tune back into the conversation as Dingo, Evan, and Marcie continued their good-natured ribbing over Luka’s new enterprise.

“So how do you two know each other again?” Marcie asked, and Marinette froze, her mouth full of noodles. She glanced up and saw Marcie watching her with slightly narrowed eyes.

“Marinette went to school with Juleka,” Luka replied easily. “We got to be friends right before I left with Jagged.” His tone was pleasant, but he cut his eyes up at Marcie in a sharp look that Marinette didn’t quite understand. Marcie clearly did, though, because she said something inane and changed the subject. Dingo and Evan exchanged a look, and then Evan looked down at his plate and Dingo looked at Marinette with a thoughtful expression—or at least she thought so, but it was hard to tell because he was still wearing his sunglasses.

She was having trouble getting that mouthful of noodles down with him looking at her like that.

“Ding,” Luka said mildly, without looking away from his own food, and Dingo huffed, shook his head, and went back to eating.

It still took effort to chew and swallow, and Marinette shifted uncomfortably in her seat, and began trying to think of a way to make her exit. Before she could, Luka put down his chopsticks and started closing the containers nearest to him. “Well,” he said, “I’m really grateful for the help today, guys. You guys can all consider one favor knocked off the big stack that every single one of you owes me.”

There was laughter and protests, and Luka raised his voice to be heard over them. “But I’m exhausted, and I still have to shower and get at least enough of my stuff unpacked that I have somewhere to sleep tonight, so I think I’m going to head back. Are you still eating, Marinette?”

“Oh, no, I’m good,” Marinette said hastily, recognizing the out as she began packing up her own containers. “Mind if I walk back with you?”

“Sure,” Luka smiled.

“Hey Lu,” Dingo called after them, and Luka looked back as he opened the door and held it for Marinette. “Don’t be a dumbass, man.”

Luka just flipped Dingo off with his free hand and followed Marinette out of the door.

“They know, huh?” Marinette muttered as the door fell shut behind them, and Luka sighed.

“Yeah,” he said. “Not the details, but...enough. I’m sorry they made you uncomfortable.”

Marinette shrugged. “Not like I don’t deserve it.”

Luka put his arm around her shoulders and squeezed in a light half hug, turning her in the right direction as they started walking. “I forgave you a long time ago, for what it’s worth. We were just dumb kids. Not to say the feelings weren’t real, but let’s just say we hadn’t exactly reached the age of sober judgement yet and leave it at that, okay?”

Marinette shook her head. “I still feel like I...owe you an apology for all that. I wasn’t very considerate of your feelings. If...if it hadn’t been for Adrien…” Marinette began, and trailed off as Luka’s arm tightened around her. “It’s just,” Marinette tried to control her breathing, and blinked quickly to keep the tears back. “I tried so hard to keep everything together, and it all kind of fell apart anyway, and looking back, I just...wish I’d made some different choices about my priorities. About which people I put my energy into. I’m just...I’m sorry I didn’t choose you, Luka. I’m...sorry I didn’t stay in touch after you left.”

Luka blew out a slow breath. “It was a crazy time for both of us. That year with Jagged, it was...it was a lot. I’m honestly not sure I’d have been able to keep up my end, so. Don’t worry about it.”

“You...still don’t get along with Jagged too well?” Marinette ventured.

Luka rolled his eyes. “Having one parent constantly acting like a child was more than enough, I really didn’t need a second parent to take care of.” He winced. “Sorry, that came out a lot more bitter than I meant. It’s not like I expected him to act like a dad, but…” Luka shook his head. “Anyway, a year of that lifestyle was enough. I finally told him I was going home. I’m not interested in anything he can give me. Maybe it would have been different, if I’d done it on my own, but...there is no on my own anymore. I can’t make it in that industry without being attached to him, and I just...don’t want that.” He gave her a rueful grin. “Is that stupid?”

“No,” Marinette said, reaching up and curling her hand around his where it rested on her shoulder. “No, not all.”

He smiled at her, and she dropped her hand. They walked in silence the rest of the way.

“Well, home sweet home,” Luka said, letting his arm fall as they walked up the steps to the balcony that ran along the back of the buildings, providing outdoor access to their apartments. “This gonna be weird,” he admitted, as they paused in front of his door. “I’ve never lived alone before.”

“Me neither,” Marinette admitted with a nervous giggle.

Luka smiled at her. “Well, if you ever need anything, or you just want to talk or hangout or whatever.” He nodded to his door. “You know where to find me.”

“That’s a dangerous promise,” Marinette tried to smile, but she wasn’t sure it worked. “You did so much for me before, and never got anything back for it. I feel like I took advantage of you.”

“You didn’t,” Luka replied immediately, like she should have known he would. “Marinette, even if that were true, and I really don’t think it is...I never did any of that for...payback, or something. I wasn’t expecting anything out of you. I just wanted you to be happy.”

Marinette couldn’t think of anything to say to that. It was true that everything he’d done for her, he’d done voluntarily, and that she had done some things for him, although they were more really for Kitty Section as a whole, but...it didn’t change the way she felt. She’d failed Luka, just like she failed everyone that cared about her.

She jolted slightly when she felt his hand on her shoulder again. Luka let go quickly, his hand hovering there as he looked over her face. She started to open her mouth to apologize, but Luka let his hand drop. “I’ll see you soon, neighbor,” was all he said, and then he turned to unlock his own door. He gave her a smile over his shoulder, and though it looked different on his adult face, it was the same smile he used to give her, the one that said he had faith in her, no matter whether she had any in herself at the moment.

Then his door closed with a quiet click, and she was standing there alone.

“Marinette,” Tikki whispered after a moment, reaching out of Marinette’s purse to touch her hand.

Marinette jumped slightly, and then turned to her own door, fumbling her keys out. She unlocked it and went inside.

“Marinette?” Tikki zipped out of her purse to float at eye level, her expression sympathetic and concerned.

Marinette gave her a weak smile. “I can’t decide if I’m glad he’s there, or if I’m upset about it. He’s always been so observant. What if…” She trailed off, and folded her arms uncomfortably.

Tikki tilted her head slightly. “Is that really what you’re worried about?”

Marinette bit her lip. “Not really,” she admitted. “It’s just…” She folded her arms and chewed her lip, trying to find a way to articulate her feelings. “Luka’s easy to depend on,” she said softly. “Having him right there...I’m not sure it’s good for me. I’m afraid I’ll...I don’t know. Be tempted to lean on him more than I should, and end up hurting him all over again. Not that—not that he feels the same as he did back then, but Luka’s still Luka, he just...he’s a helper, and I’ll end up asking too much and he’ll resent me and he’ll end up selling his shop just to get away from me and—”

“Marinette!” Tikki waved her arms to catch her attention. “Okay, I get it. But Luka does live next door and there’s nothing either of you can do about that now. So what can we do?”

Marinette sighed. “I just have to be careful,” she decided. “I have to make sure I don’t ask him for too much. For...for some things, maybe, because Luka’s discreet and he doesn’t ask questions so there might be times when I can ask him to cover for me and stuff...but not too much. Only when I really need it.”

“Okay.” Tikki flew in close and laid a paw on Marinette’s cheek. “That sounds like a good plan. We just take one day at a time, right?”

“One day at a time,” Marinette agreed, and then smiled. “And we still have to get this apartment fit to live in, so let’s let the others out and get started making this place into home. We can do the groceries tomorrow.” Dinner with Luka had not been in her schedule, after all, but...this once, she didn’t mind.

“That’s the spirit!” Tikki cheered, and followed Marinette towards the bedroom.

It was weird, that first night, with the smell of fresh paint and cardboard, and all the noises from outside that were so different than the ones she was used to. It was hard to go to sleep, especially when there was so much to do, but the kwamis finally bullied her to bed, and their presence tucked in all around her gave her enough comfort to doze off. The same weirdness woke her early in the morning, and she wandered around her apartment like a zombie in her striped pajama pants and tank as she waited for her coffee to be ready.

She was halfway through her second mug, still staring blankly at the pile of boxes and making absent noises of agreement now and then at the chattering kwami perched around her, when a knock on her door made her jump and sent the kwamis scattering for cover.

Frowning, Marinette padded to the door in her bare feet, coffee cup in hand, and stood on her toes to peek out of the slightly-too-high peephole.

“Luka?” she said in surprise, and opened the door.

“Hey,” he smiled at her. “I was going to do a grocery run, and I saw you didn’t have a car, so...I thought maybe you’d like a ride with me?” He held up a motorcycle helmet. “Not exactly the same as my old bike,” he grinned, “But if memory serves, you can handle it.”

Marinette burst into giggles. “I can handle anything you can handle,” she said when she could control herself, folding her arms and cocking a hip.

Luka’s smile warmed, and he winked at her. “Finish your coffee and meet me downstairs in ten.”

It took most of that time for her to dig out her riding gear; she hadn’t expected to need it anytime soon, so it wasn’t particularly accessible, but thanks to her overly detailed box organization system, augmented by a little kwami assistance, she found the right box and got it open, pulling out her black padded jacket with pink panels on the sides, and her carefully-packed black and pink helmet with her flowers stenciled on the side. A little more digging found black motorcycle boots with pink hardware up the side to hold the lacing. She put it all on over a t-shirt and a pair of jeans, and hurried for the door.

“Wait!” Kaalki cried, bursting out of another box, towing something sparkly. “Don’t forget these! You haven’t seen him in years, so you simply must look fabulous !”

Marinette giggled and took the glasses Kaalki held out to her. “Thanks, Kaalki.”

“They’re not as good as mine,” Kaalki huffed, fluffing her mane. “But they’ll do.”

Luka did a double-take when he saw her, his eyebrows practically flying off his forehead they shot up so fast. Marinette giggled at his reaction. “Grandma,” she shrugged with a grin, and slid the chrome riding glasses with pink lenses and rhinestones lining the frame. Luka burst out laughing.

“You look amazing,” he said, trying to stifle the laugh.

“Thank you,” Marinette sniffed. “She decked me out so she could take me on a road trip for my eighteenth birthday.”

“Nice,” Luka grinned, zipping up his own padded jacket and swinging one leg over the bike. “I want to hear all about it later.” He jerked his head. “Come on, hop aboard. I hope your list isn’t too long, we can’t carry too much on this thing, but we should be able to get the essentials.”

Marinette didn’t bother answering, putting on her helmet instead and then climbing aboard behind Luka. Her list had been long, but she could live without most of it for a few days. This might actually work out better, giving her a chance to get the essentials so she’d have less to carry when she went back for the rest.

Luka showed her where to put her feet, and grinned back at her before he strapped on his own helmet. “Just like old times.”

“Not quite like old times,” she giggled, putting her hands on his waist. “I’m really glad to have you back though,” she said quietly, not sure whether she wanted him to hear her or not.

He must have heard though, because Luka put one gloved hand over hers for just a moment, and then started the bike. “Tap my shoulder twice if you need me to stop,” he called back as he backed them out of the space. He blew out a breath, and then flipped down his helmet’s visor and took off.

It had been a while since she’d been on a motorcycle, so she tried to concentrate on moving with him as they rode. She was rewarded by a smile when they dismounted the bike and Luka pulled his helmet off. “Your grandma’s a good teacher,” he said. “You’re easy to ride with.”

“Thanks,” Marinette smiled, letting him stow her gear with his. “Don’t buy any bread,” she warned him as they walked into the store. “My parents are going to be by sometime today or tomorrow I’m sure, and as soon as they hear you’re my neighbor I know they’ll bring extra.”

“I’m not going to say no to that,” Luka chuckled. “Anything your dad makes is going to be way better than anything they’ll have here.” They shared a smile, and a slightly awkward silence fell between them as they each picked up baskets and started walking through the store. Marinette wondered if she should go off on her own, but the store wasn’t that big and she’d probably keep bumping into him and then that would be weird and she couldn’t just ditch him—

“How are your folks doing these days?” Luka asked, picking up a box off the shelf.

“O-oh, they’re...they’re good. Well. I mean, pretty much the same as always, you know?” she said, flustered.

“How are they handling you moving out?” he asked, smiling as he put the box in his basket and then stuck his hand in his pocket as they strolled forward.

Marinette let her head drop back and gave a sigh of longsuffering. “They’re...doing their best,” she giggled. “They’re very enthusiastic, but…”

“Holding a lot back?” Luka smiled.

“Not very successfully,” Marinette giggled. “What about you, how’s your family doing? How’s J-Juleka?” she asked, and tensed when Luka gave her a sideways glance.

“Pretty good,” he said, selecting a box from the shelf to put in his basket. “I haven’t told her yet that I ran into you.” He glanced at her again. “You want me to, or should I not? I know you girls lost touch a while ago.”

Marinette shrugged without looking at him, blushing faintly. “I don’t mind. We didn’t have a falling out or anything, just you know...time, and stuff. She probably doesn’t want to hear from me, maybe you should just not mention it.”

Luka smiled, eyes on the shelf as they strolled. “I don’t know. Juleka and me, we were always taught that people have to live their lives, you know? You appreciate them while you have them, and you let them go when your paths drift apart. You were always going places, Marinette, everybody knew that. I don’t think Juleka will hold it against you.” His smile broadened, and he pulled his phone out of his pocket. “She’s been doing some dream chasing of her own, after all.”

“Really?” Marinette said, taking the phone when he handed it to her. She looked at the image and her mouth dropped open. “Oh my gosh, she really did it? She’s a model?”

“Cosmetics mostly so far,” Luka told her with a smile. “She’s trying to get into clothing and runway but she’s done really well with the cosmetics companies. Her eyes are so amazing and her skin’s always been flawless.”

“She looks beautiful,” Marinette sighed, handing the phone back. “Is she happy?”

“She seems to be.” Luka pocketed the phone, and went back to shopping, giving a pointed look at Marinette’s empty basket. She hurriedly turned to the shelves too, trying to make herself focus on her list. “Anyway, she’s had to let a few things go in the process, so I think she’d understand. She did have to get a new number a while back, but I can give her yours if you want me to.”

“Well…” Marinette still felt a flutter of nerves, but she pushed it down. “Sure.” She smiled weakly. “You always make everything so easy.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Luka chuckled.

“It is,” Marinette smiled.

“It’s the same for me, you know,” Luka said, and Marinette blinked at him in confusion. “About the friends coming and going, I mean. It’s just a part of life, Marinette. It’s not something you should be embarrassed or ashamed about. It’s just the way things are.” He gave her a kind smile. “There were a lot of friends I left behind that year with Jagged. I wasn’t kidding about how busy I was.”

Marinette smiled, though she kept her focus on the shelves. “You’re still friends with Dingo.”

“Don’t remind me,” Luka chuckled. “I can’t get rid of him. There’s some people, you know, where no matter how long you go without talking. With Dingo, no matter how much time passes, it’s like we last talked yesterday. Besides, he knows all my secrets. I can’t afford to cut him loose.”

Marinette sighed. “That must be nice though. Having someone who knows you that well.”

“Sometimes,” Luka agreed. “Though mostly he just uses it to make my life hell. Thank God he’s still chasing Brielle or I’d never get rid of him. He has to pretend to be an adult at least half the time to convince her he’s still worth wasting her time on.”

“Wow, they’re still together?” Marinette giggled. “That’s impressive.”

“They are, they aren’t, they are again. It’s…” Luka shook his head. “Not my idea of the ideal relationship, but it works for them—well, most of the time—so…” he shrugged. “I’m chronically single, though, so who am I to judge.”

“Really?” Marinette finally looked up at him. “Why? I mean—” she turned red and spluttered, and Luka had to dodge her flying grocery basket as she tried to frantically erase the question with her flailing hands. “Ooooh, I’m sorry, that was so nosy.”

“It’s okay,” Luka laughed. “Relax, Marinette. What about you? Anyone special in your life?”

Marinette’s face heated, but she figured Luka was the last person on earth likely to judge her relationship history. “Me? Oh, no. I had a few flings in high school and uni, but…” she shrugged. “They never lasted long. I’m...not very good at casual, but I don’t have a lot of time to give a relationship. It seemed like no matter how hard I tried it all tended to fall apart sooner rather than later. Eventually, I just stopped trying.”

“Timing,” Luka sighed sympathetically, shaking his head, “Timing is a bitch, no doubt.”

Marinette hunched her shoulders a little. “You can say that again.”

Luka touched her arm gently, and they finished the rest of their shopping with lighter small talk, mostly about all the crazy shenanigans Anarka was up to now that she was free and unfettered with both of her children out of the house.

It took some ingenuity to get their purchases loaded on the bike, and Marinette had a few things precariously wedged between herself and Luka, but they made it home without losing anything, and that was what mattered.

Luka stopped at his door, while Marinette kept walking to hers. She was still trying to get her keys out of her pocket when Luka got his door open.

“Marinette,” he said, and she looked at him in surprise. “If you need anything, let me know, okay?”

“Oh...um, sure,” Marinette said as brightly as she could, remembering her vow the night before not to ask him for anything more than necessary.

“I mean it.” Luka held her gaze for a moment and grinned. “Because I have like a million favors I’d like to ask, and I need to start stockpiling on my end. I could use some help with branding and advertising, for starters.”

Marinette blinked, and then laughed, and she saw his shoulders relax a bit.

“You can just ask, you know,” she told him, and Luka shook his head.

“Nope. Fair’s fair. Every artist deserves payment for their work, I just don’t have the cash handy for it. So if you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask. It’ll be a down payment on designing my new signage.” He grinned at her one more time, and then opened his door and was gone.

That was...so Luka, she thought affectionately, coming up with a way to put the offer of his help out there in a way she couldn’t refuse. She wasn’t sure whether to laugh or be mad at him for daring to see through her so easily.

Well. She definitely didn’t want a repeat of last time, where she was constantly taking from him and giving nothing in return. But surely, an equal trade would be okay? She could do that without making it weird.

She opened her door and stepped inside, and was immediately swarmed by kwami hoping for a snack. “Only one each!” she scolded them all, making her way to the kitchen. “We’re never going to make this work if you’re constantly eating me out of house and home.”

“Did you enjoy your trip?” Sass asked her, and she met his knowing smile.

“Yes, I did,” she said, lifting a finger to poke him in the belly. “It’s good to see him again.” She smiled. “He’s doing well, Sass.”

Sass chuckled, still giving her that same look. “That isss good to hear.” Marinette narrowed her eyes at him.

“Are we ssstill painting the shop tomorrow?” Sass asked innocently.

“Yes,” Marinette said firmly. “We have a lot of work to do before the grand opening.”

Fiction Master Post | LBSC 2021 Exchange Collection

#quickspins #guard my heart #lukanette #endgame lukanette #lukanette endgame #luka couffaine #marinette dupain-cheng #miraculousladybug #miraculous ladybug #lbsc 2021 exchange #rated: m

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mycroftinthemindpalace · 4 years ago

Note

6, 20, or 44: choose whichever one inspires you :)

Prompt request from @daggery: I went with 20 - “D..did you just make that noise?” There’s a good chance I’ll come back to the other ones too. Thank you!

“Coming through!” Mal yelled, loudly enough that if the two students up ahead did not get out of her way and were run over, it was their own fault. Fortunately for everyone, the two kids dove in opposite directions seconds before Mal barreled down the staircase. She had spent way too long with helping Jane practice her spells, and she was definitely going to miss lunch, and if she missed lunch, there was no way she could get through an hour and a half of science that afternoon. They were doing lab, and the smell turned her stomach when it was full. On empty, she’d probably pass out, and Mal would die before she’d let that happen.

Two more floors to go before she reached the bottom, then a quick left turn out the door, a brisk run across the courtyard, and lunch was hers. She was pretty sure they were serving pasta today, and Hades help everyone if there was no pesto left by the time she got there.

“AAHHHH-EEEEEEEE!” Mal froze with half a staircase to go. Mal was used to people shrieking, but not in Auradon. If it were Jane or Melody, she’d have cared, but not stopped. If it were Audrey, she might have turned back just to laugh, but that girlish squeal had not come from very far away.

In fact, it had come from her dorm room, which meant it was Evie, which meant Mal was probably going to miss lunch because the piercing scream had not even ended before Mal was turning on her heel, darting back up the stairs (bumping into one of the two students who were not quick enough this time to avoid her), and breaking down her dorm room door.

She panted, out of breath in the doorway. Her eyes scanned the room for some signs of trouble. The window was closed, there was no blood on the ground, no shattered glass in sight.

As a matter of fact, there was no Evie in sight either.

The only thing out of place in her dorm room was the tall, brown-haired boy in a leather vest, standing on her bed, pressing himself against the wall, his eyes darting wildly around the floor.

“Jay?” She asked, closing the door behind her gently. Jay’s head shot up. Upon seeing her, his wild eyes stopped moving. Like a chameleon, his face changed rapidly from white to slightly green to dark, dark red. “D..did you just make that noise?”

“What noise?” His question would have been far more believable were it not asked two octaves above his usual pitch. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Uh, what noise?”

Mal set her backpack down. “The loud girlish squeal that just came from this room.”

Jay scowled. “I don’t recall any such noise being made.”

“Did you yell?”

“...yes. In a manly fashion.”

Mal smirked. “I’m pretty sure you shattered two downstairs windows with that note you hit.”

Jay’s shoulders relaxed as he slouched down the wall and plopped onto Mal’s bed, sitting cross-legged and cross-armed, and pouting like a three-year-old. “Did not,” he muttered.

“So what made you squeal?” Mal jumped up next to him and mimicked his posture. His lips twitched in a very obvious attempt to keep from smiling.

“Nothing.”

“Bullshit.”

Jay hesitated, his eyes flickering back to the floor. Mal followed his gaze, then reeled backward as he jumped to his feet and adopted his previous position at the head of her bed, wide-eyed. He raised a shaky finger and pointed. Mal turned and caught the tail end of a tail, bolting across the room and beneath her dresser.

“A mouse?”

“Get it out get it out get it OUT!” Jay yelled, his voice rising once more. Mal stuck a finger in her ear.

“Chill, dude.” She hopped off the bed, grabbed Evie’s yardstick off her design table, and swept it underneath the dresser. The mouse raced out and ran directly into Mal’s backpack, perfectly positioned at the dresser’s end. Mal zipped it quickly, shot a wary glance at her friend, bouncing from foot to foot and wringing his hands in front of him. “Be right back.” And with that, she was out the door.

Jay immediately collapsed on the bed, a bead of sweat dripping down his forehead. He released a breath he had not realized he was holding in, and closed his eyes. The hellion was gone, but now he would have to deal with Mal. Mal’s mocking, Mal’s laughter, Mal’s incessant questioning as to why Jay, son of Jafar, had turned into a sniveling, trembling coward at the sight of a white rodent half the size of his hand.

He’d been nine, and Jafar had been angry. He’d brought back a lamp, thinking it might please his father and make up for the otherwise pathetic haul he’d gotten that day, but Jafar had taken the lamp as a personal insult. It was an ordinary lamp, one that might sit on a bedside table and plug into the wall if the Isle had any electricity to light it, not the kind from Jafar’s story. Of course, Jay didn’t know the difference, not then. When he’d proudly presented it to his father, Jafar had sneered. He’d called him stupid, and useless, and he’d broken the lamp over his head and kicked him out.

“Come back with something of worth or don’t come back at all,” his father had said, right before he locked the door.

Something of worth. What the hell did that even mean? To Jay, a pair of shoes that still had soles, and a sketchbook for Mal were things of worth, but to Jafar they were trash. He knew because Jafar had told him so. He’d been working for his father for four years at that point, and he still didn’t know what would earn him a place at the dinner table and what would be thrown back at him. There was no point in trying to figure it out either; what Jafar deemed worthy changed on any given day. And that day, Jay determined, nothing would please his father. Might as well find himself a dry place to sleep and try again in the morning.

There was a storm that night, and Jay was cold. The alley would be filled with goblins and rascals also looking for shelter, and Jay knew better than to sleep when they were around. The wharf was out too; he’d stolen a medallion off Harry Hook last week, and he doubted that the pirate had forgotten.

That left the woods. Jay crept through the muddy undergrowth until he found a shrub big enough for him to slip in. It wasn’t cozy, but there weren’t any thorns and the bush had kept the grass mostly dry. There was even something soft there for him to rest his head on. His head hurt from where the lamp had hit it, and it didn’t take him long to fall asleep.

He slept well, better than he usually did on the nights Jafar kicked him out. He dreamt he was in a castle, not a dark one like Mal’s, but one that was brightly lit and stocked with food he’d only seen on TV. He licked his lips, again and again.

And then woke to find that it was him who was licking his lips, but a fat, white mouse.

Jay screamed. He screamed and knocked the mouse off his face, and then flung one from his shoulder and pulled one out of his hair. He scrambled out of the bush, away from the woods, and back to Jafar’s shop. He ran in, even though his father had not yet granted him permission, and tore of his clothes as he went. Only later, when he went to retrieve them, did he find another mouse huddled in his sweatshirt pocket.

Jay shivered at the memory. He could still feel them, pulling at his hair, pawing at his clothes, licking his mouth. He ran his hands up and down his arms, trying to pull himself together before Mal returned.

She didn’t say a word when she came in, just shrugged her backpack off and pulled an apple out of her coat pocket. She held it out to him, and he accepted, taking a bite that was way too large for his mouth, but if he kept chewing, he didn’t have to talk. She’d brought one for herself as well, and pulled out her sketchbook as she ate. She balanced it on her knee, keeping it tilted at just the right angle so Jay could not see what she was drawing. Probably him, standing on her bed, screaming in terror. He internally groaned.

“Mal,” he started as soon as he’d finished the fruit. “About the mouse. It’s...”

“The spawn of the devil,” Mal said without looking up. “I would have killed it, but I figured there was, like, a 60% chance that it was related to one of Cinderella’s mice, and I never would have heard the end of it if I’d murdered Jacques second cousin or whatever.”

Jay blinked. “Yeah, I guess that’s true.”

She snapped the sketchbook closed and stuffed it back in her backpack. Hopping off the bed, she held out a hand to him. “Walk me to chemistry?”

He smiled. “Yeah. Yeah, I can do that.”

They were halfway there when Mal asked him if he’d ever considered going out for choir, noting that, if his tourney dreams didn’t pan out, he’d make a great soprano.

#daggery #disney descendants #descendants fanfiction #prompts #jal #jay son of jafar #mal bertha

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silverhandy · 4 years ago

Text

Verbatim

read on ao3!

Summary: Having climbed all the way up from Heywood’s slums to Miyabi, one of the most high end casinos in Night City, Santiago "Sanny" Garcia thought himself a lucky man, right until the point when his employer, an Arasaka board member with a gambling business on the side, caught him stealing and offered an impossible ultimatum. Forced to pay off his debt or die trying, Sanny has to renew some old friendships and form some new ones to keep himself afloat.

On top of everything, when his cyberware starts malfunctioning, there’s only one person on his long contact list that he can call.

“Where’s your Trauma platinum when you need it, pendejo?”

“Kicking a man when he’s down? Never expected that from you” Sanny groaned, burying his face in a pillow. He’d give anything for the world to stop spinning, just for a second. Faced with a heavy silence, he cracked one eye open to see Maria’s disgruntled expression on the holo. “It got revoked, okay? I’m literally begging here.”

“You're not,” she replied, the frown still not leaving her face. Sanny could swear at least some part of her was enjoying it. “At least not yet.”

“C’mon, hermana. I’m-” before he could finish that sentence, he was cut off by another wave of nausea strong arming its way through him. He barely had the chance to haul himself over the edge of the bed to vomit into the bucket he put there, anything to avoid ruining his ridiculously expensive, silk sheets.

Sanny could practically feel Maria’s judging stare on him as she got a front row seat on her brother puking his brains out. He understood her, in a way - their last conversation wasn’t exactly a pleasant one. Maybe he went a little overboard with his bragging. Still, she was his only sibling that still kept in touch with him, all the rest a step away from declaring him a total stranger.

As he wiped his mouth, desperate to get rid of the bitter taste of bile, he entertained the thought of apologizing to her. Was that his new low? At the mercy of his older sister? Certainly not a position he thought he’d find himself in, not after he decided to say goodbye to Heywood for good. She had every right to resent him just as the rest of the family did, but despite it all, they still kept in contact. A sporadic, passive aggressive contact, but a contact nevertheless.

She let out a heavy sigh. “Fine. You’re lucky my day freed up, otherwise you’d have to call some other sorry fucker. Text me the address, I’ll be there in an hour, maybe two.”

“Two hours? You for real?”

“Don’t push your luck, Santiago.”

***

“That ripperdoc of yours, how reliable is he?”

“He knows his stuff. Just bear in mind he doesn’t usually take on corpos.”

“Not a corpo.” Sanny mumbled, resting his forehead on the cold glass of the passenger's window.

“You sure as hell look like one” she replied, not taking her eyes off the road.

“When in Rome, do as Romans do…”

The car hit a bump, making Sanny smack his head against the glass. An explosion of pain followed as an array of angrily white stars danced in front of his vision, sprinkled with not less alarming system failure warnings. If he didn’t know better, he’d say Maria did that on purpose, but she wasn’t responsible for the state of the neighborhood's roads. Not directly, at least.

“We’re here.” Maria’s voice snapped him out of his stupor. Some time must’ve passed because when he opened his eyes they were parked on the edge of a wide, busy street, various shops, and nightclubs drawing customers in with their loud neons and whatever else they had to offer. Luckily for Sanny, they didn’t have to walk all the way through it, loud sounds and aggressively bright lights coming at him from all directions, mercilessly aggravating his headache before they turned the corner and walked through the gate leading to a small, crumpled backyard. Maria led him down another set of stairs to an unlabeled basement, one of those places you needed to know were there to find them.

“Hey Vik!'' she said as she passed the gate to the underground clinic, walking in as if she owned the place. Sanny followed behind, his usual confidence shrinking. If what Maria said was true, there was a real chance that the ripperdoc would turn him away and he doubted he had the resolve to drag himself to another one. Suddenly Fukuzawa’s offer of a bullet to the head seemed much more appealing.

When the ripperdoc turned his head towards them, a warm smile appeared on his face as his eyes landed on Maria. Tossing the screwdriver he’d been holding aside, he got up to greet her, though Sanny could tell he was eyeing him over her shoulder as well. He couldn’t blame him - he probably looked like a breathing trainwreck.

“Hey, good to see you.” the ripper said to Maria. “So you must be Sanny?” he asked, suddenly shifting his attention to the younger man, extending a muscular arm towards him. The ripper was built like a fucking truck and Mal could feel his mouth go dry, and only partially because he must be severely dehydrated at this point. Suddenly regretting that he didn’t at least take a shower before Maria came to pick him up, he took a step forward to shake the man’s hand.

“That’s me.” Sanny smiled nervously, his paled face twitching with the effort.

“Viktor Vector’s the name. Heard a lot about you.”

“Oh yeah?” Sanny could hear his voice cracking, mind racing at all the things Maria could possibly say about him while in her ripper’s chair. There were many and only a few made Sanny proud of himself.

“I’ll leave you boys to chat. Don’t want no part in this.” Maria said, a crooked smile on her face. “I’ll wait in the car. Vik, feel free to add this to my tab.”

“Sure thing, sweetheart.”

And just like that, she left him there. Great.

“Alright, let’s get you seated, don’t want you to crack your head open if you fall.” Sanny heard Viktor say. Too busy trying to keep down the few sips of water he got before leaving the apartment, he didn’t even notice how his silhouette started to sway to the side, only stopped by the ripperdoc’s strong arm on his shoulder, steadying him and gently ushering him in the direction of the chair.

Looking back, the whole thing couldn’t have happened to him at a worse time, shortly after he got dropped from the Trauma Team health plan, his regular ripper bidding him farewell with an apologetic smile, even taking a step further to wish him luck. So much for the Hippocratic oath. Sanny watched silently as Viktor kicked himself a chair and sat down to fire up the monitors, typing away at the beat up keyboard until eventually, he reached out a hand.

“Your personal link, please.”

“‘f course” Sunny mumbled, handing him the cable and watching as the doc jacked it into the port, on the first try even. Must be the practice, Sanny thought and allowed his head to rest on the headboard, the blue leather cracking slightly as Viktor started running diagnostics on his cyberware.

“That’s an impressive set you got there”

If he wasn’t feeling so damn miserable, he'd smirk. Impressive was an understatement, with his array of the state of the art cyberware, from behavioral boosters to those refining his fine motor skills to a point he was practically a magician with a deck of cards. Or a lockpick, but he was yet to get desperate enough to give that career path a try.

“My job has its perks.”

“You a croupier at Miyabi?” it seemed that Viktor was rather keen on small talk, a quality that Sanny didn’t quite share, but hesitantly welcomed.

“Figured it out from my tech or did my sister tell you?”

“Bit of both, I suppose.”

Jacked and insightful. What more could Sanny possibly want? Then again, it wasn’t a time in his life for romantic pursuits, both this specific moment, lying sick on the ripperdoc’s chair and in a broader sense, when he had a figurative gun to his head, a literal one soon to follow if he doesn’t resolve the mess he got himself into.

“Other than dizziness, anything else bothering you?

“Uh,” Sanny turned his head to look at the other man. There were many things bothering him and most had little to do with his current physical condition. “I haven't been able to keep anything down for a few days now. Not even the damn pills for the headache. Running self diagnostics didn’t spit out anything useful either.”

Viktor’s brows furrowed as he shot the younger man a glance from behind his shades. Disapproval? Concern?

“It’s been this bad and you’re only now seeing a ripper?”

“Maria told you where I work but didn’t share why I’m visiting a back alley doctor? How considerate.”

“You guys don’t get along too well, huh?” Sanny frowned at the direction this conversation was going, but there was nothing he could do but enjoy the ride.

“It’s...an on and off thing between us.” he just mumbled, desperate to avoid Viktor’s gaze. Lucky for Sanny, the ripper’s attention seemed to be entirely on the monitors in front of him.

“Just remember, kid,” Viktor said, finally turning to look at Sanny’s face. “she cares about you a lot. Wouldn’t bring you here if she didn’t.”

Sanny just hummed in response. Deep down, he knew the ripper was right, but the whole exchange only made him even more curious about what exactly Maria had been saying about him. It couldn’t be half as bad as he thought he deserved because not only had Viktor not kicked him out of the chair, but was even nice to him. Go figure.

“Alright then,” Viktor said, unplugging the younger man’s personal link. “had to do some cleaning in your CPU, you should be up and running in a few hours. Take this before going to bed for the night,” a strip of pills was placed in his hand “and in the future, watch what you plug your personal link into. I know you guys working in high end casinos get a fancy firewall as part of the package, but it’s not foolproof.

“It sure ain’t, doc. Thanks for the advice,” Sanny smiled, motioning to get up from the chair. “and everything else.”

Whatever Viktor did, the effect was immediate; the clinic was no longer swaying and his stomach didn’t threaten to twist itself inside out every time he moved his head. He still felt like he was experiencing a crescendo of the worst hangover of his life, but it was nothing that couldn’t be managed with a shower and a fresh change of clothes. Who knows, he might even get bold and eat something, though he still wasn’t sure about that one.

“Don’t mention it, I don’t often get the chance to tinker with Miyabi tech. And if you’re open to some more pieces of advice, you should be thanking your sister, not me.”

“I’ll make sure to do just that.”

“Should you run into more trouble with software, my clinic’s always open. I’ll send you the number, so don’t hesitate to give me a call.”

Did he just…? No fucking way, Sanny thought as he walked up the stairs, leaving the clinic behind.

***

“So...how’re the Valentinos treatin’ you?”

“Actually, I…puta madre!” she shouted, blasting her hand against the car’s horn as she slammed the brakes to make her disdain loud and clear to the driver who tried to cut her off at the intersection. A litany of insults from the would-be culprit followed, another sound in a cacophony of Heywood’s streets. Maria shook her head, dark locks of her hair shaking with the movement like a swarm of angry bees. “I left.”

“And here I was thinking the position of the family’s black sheep was already taken.”

“Don’t ever think you’re the special one just because you shuffle cards for the big guys.”

“Oh, I could never. So what do you do now?”

“Independent. It took a while, but a friend got me hooked up with some reliable fixers.”

“A “friend”? Don’t tell me that on top of everything, you got yourself a man. Or a woman?”

Maria shot him a warning glare. “It’s nothing like that. Jackie just helped me get back on my feet, introduced me to some people. I’ve been fending for myself since then.”

“And how’s that working out for you?”

“Way better than for you. The hell did you do to piss off your corporate overlords?”

“All I can say for now is that you can leave Heywood, but Heywood never leaves you. Took one too many risks and all it did was land me before the one and only Akio Fukuzawa, who apparently doesn’t take kindly to humbled employees when his eddies are missing.”

“And yet here you are, still alive.”

“What can I say? I’m a charming guy.”

They spent the rest of the car ride in silence, Maria’s eyes fixed on the road, maroon painted nails tapping on the steering wheel in the rhythm of whatever was playing on the radio while Sanny pretended to be mesmerized by whatever they were passing on their way, in reality pulling up his comms interface to scroll through all the text messages he sent to fixers before the damn virus made it impossible to see straight. Almost all of them were left on read and unanswered. Sanny presumed they were bound to remain so. He didn’t have the reputation necessary to land any of the bigger contracts and no time to build it up before Fukuzawa’s minions showed up on his doorstep.

They parked in front of his building, mere centimeters away from bumping into a lampost. Sanny choked down a sigh. There was no escaping it now.

“Thanks, hermana. I owe you one,” he uttered, motioning to get out of the car. Just as he pushed the door open, his comms chimed with a text message from an unknown number. Getting out of the car, he waved to dismiss it, thinking it must be another of those spam chains that’d been flooding his inbox from time to time, but froze halfway through when his eyes landed on the text. The contract was vague on details, but the reward was crystal clear. Sanny could almost feel his jaw dropping as he looked at the impressive number of zeros that followed the first digit. It should be enough. More than enough to pay Fukuzawa off, even if, as per the fixer’s demand, he’ll have to cut the amount in half and share with a partner. He was so dumbfounded he didn’t hear Maria’s reply, or if she replied at all, but when he turned back one last time, she was eying him from head to toe suspiciously. Then she just shook her head slightly as if shushing away a thought.

“And Sanny?” she said, rolling down her window and shooting him a glare from behind her shades. “don’t you dare fuck my ripperdoc.”

#cyberpunk 2077 #cyberpunk #cp2077 #cp77 #cyberpunk oc #Viktor Vector #cyberpunk fic #my writing #moxwrites2077

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illicitivywp · 4 years ago

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mal de vivre.

The morning that Harry wakes up and you're not sleeping peacefully beside him is the worst of his entire life.

He can sense that you're not there. The air still circulates whiffs of your caramel shampoo and the breeze of your automatic fan that you always insist on leaving on all night still whirs leisurely and tickles the back of his neck.

Regardless, the room is vacant. He doesn't have to open his eyes to know that much.

For now, he remains entirely numb. Immune to the flooding sobs and intolerable agony and festering anger, he supposes it's in his best interest to stay like that for a while.

For a few days, at least. Until he can fully process your absence. He's not certain how long it takes the average person to wholly recognise an entire chunk of themselves missing, but he figures he's already suffered enough.

Surely, the universe isn't that cruel.

Your love is delightedly grand, and with its sudden unavailability, he feels so dejectedly vague.

He's clearly not perceiving time correctly, perhaps it's his distant concentration or maybe even his body's method of rejecting life and the wretched torture of its innate malice.

A few times, he's experienced sleep paralysis. The first, horrifying occasion is long-forgotten, when he was seven or so - it happened only after staying up until one in the morning to watch a horror movie that he'd been specifically warned not to watch and a towering vacuum of danger stood solid as stone at the end of his bed.

If it weren't for his fingertips subconsciously tracing featherlight scribes of your name on his forearm, he might reasonably assume he's haunted with the condition once again.

A clattering of paws on hard floorboards injects a little more reality into his thoughts, and he still can't bear, physically, to turn over and greet the sweet puppy you'd snuck home and surprised him with upon his arrival home from work around a year ago, knowing that his acceptance of a familiarly-shaped void is waiting just inches away.

Eventually, and after another chaotic scramble of claws in need of a cut, Chi is bouncing enthusiastically at his side and attempting an ambitious leap onto the mattress. She fails theatrically, landing in a resounding thud on her back and launching back to her feet, completely unaware of her owner's awaiting grief.

Masking his greatest fears with scooping a palm beneath Chi's belly and hauling her upwards to nestle into his chest, the reposition forces him to lay on his back (she's always detested laying on her side, especially when smothered with adoring cuddles) and, like the coward he truly is, his eyes focus adamantly on a random spot of the pale ceiling. With every minute shuffle, it becomes more and more achingly apparent that you're really not here.

And if everything runs correctly, you'll squirm and giggle graciously at his waking before returning his kiss, to his lips, this time, and he'll suggest applying a little moisturiser, like he always does, and you'll love him like you should.

When his eyelids snap open and his head curves breezily to your claimed side of the bed, he's somewhat unsurprised to confirm that his life truly has transformed to a dreadful bundle of tragedy. In your imposing place, is a neatly-made bed and an envelope.

A single, white envelope, stained by the sweet, flowing cursive that could flow only from your touch.

Chi leaps naturally to the spectacle, sniffing curiously at the letter and nudging it around a little, whilst Harry is so unexplainably pained that he's unable to move. Swallowing thickly, he's not certain word-for-word what lies in the confines of this envelope, but he does know it'll confirm your leaving him, and for some strange reason, he's relieved you left an explanation, at least.

A souvenir of you to hang onto forever, along with the millions of other items and memories of yours in his possession.

Carefully removing it from Chi's vicinity and replacing the object of her attention with a random squeaky toy that he'd discovered burrowed beneath his bed a few nights ago, he traces your exquisite handwriting with his fingertip and reads along with inaudible movements of his mouth; For Harry, mon amour.

In that moment, he realises profoundly that he'll never get to request hearing you say different words in your accent again.

The amount of times he implored relentlessly to hear je t'aime and have it accompanied with an endearing kiss is infinite.

Harry, my love,

I'm so incredibly sorry that I couldn't handle the pain.

Seeing your face cures any anguish I feel, but not this time.

I really, really tried; I know you did, too. I wanted it to work out, I prayed every day that our suffering would magically end and we could return to our love, I hoped that one day I would wake and cuddle you tightly and describe this awful nightmare I'd had.

Possibly, I may write to you in the future; please, don't try to contact me, it won't work and you know it's for the best. My family and close friends know where I am, where I will be, and they also know not to tell you if you ask.

I wish I could kiss all of your heartache away and protect you from all evil in this world, but I feel my presence is detrimental to your recovery.

My love for you is never-ending. Please be okay.

Forgive me and love someone else like you loved me. Let someone else love you like I loved you. Tellement, tellement.

Forever, I'll think of you and how unbelievably content I felt waking up next to you every day for seven-hundred and eighty (? - I'm estimating) mornings straight.

I will never, ever leave our love behind, and I adore you more than I can express. Your strength and resilience are admirable, and you are truly the best thing to ever happen to me.

Mon bébé, I miss you terribly.

Toujours, ton amour.

Chi tugs eagerly on her lead at the sight of the familiar entrance to her home, Harry in tow right behind. Sludgy snow muddies his shoes and soaks the hem of his jeans. His puppy's paws are undoubtedly drenched, too, but her fur is protected valiantly by her favourite jacket. He'd purchased it from a specialist store in France a year prior, and, since surprising her with the present upon his shared return, it'd become her primary option during the winter months.

Retrieving a reasonable pile of letters from his designated section, a rapid flick through displays bills, scams and all of the usual junk he usually receives. He offers his elderly neighbour a polite smile and holds open the door with his knee to construct a clear path for her exit.

He grimaces slightly at the teeth-shaped arc of damp dents into his mail - he hadn't particularly considered the repercussions of carrying it that way - and unclips Chi's lead, allowing her to run rampage through his airy apartment. Absently dropping his keys into its small dish of residence and taking a closer inspection at his post to infiltrate any wrong addresses or scams, he selects an apple from his fruit bowl and steals one firm chunk before noticing something peculiar.

Groomed eyebrows knitting together in confusion, he plucks one particular letter from the bunch and stacks it to the top. Perplexed by the sorely familiar curve of the writing scrawled on the front, his head shakes in denial - you wouldn't have, surely.

Discarding of all other mail on his kitchen counter, he's puzzled beyond belief; you'd left with no verbal warning and a letter that, admittedly, had been the source of several bouts of severe depression and, in spite of its awful affects, read dutifully every single day since your disappearance.

Rashly, he wishes you hadn't changed your phone number and email address shortly before leaving so he could possibly contact you regarding this mystery. However, he knows just as well as you clearly foresaw; his topic of discussion wouldn't be only the letter.

Tearing open the corner cautiously, he's incredibly delicate with checking inside the envelope once open to ensure it contains only his presumed note. Reviewing the front with a scouring gaze of disbelief, it really, truly has come from you.

He can't remember how many times he read each postcard that you'd gifted him with at the very beginning of your relationship. You'd recently made the permanent move from France to England, and, in a new country with limited knowledge of the native language, Harry had unintentionally become your beacon of comfort here.

With his fluent French and English, he was the perfect contender for kindly correcting your terminology and educating you on the essential etiquettes of Britain. Within weeks, however, your sweet smile had changed from an enjoyable sight during your frequent coffee shop meetings to something he craved.

He misses reading your silly, awful puns based around your home country, especially his favourite. A laughably unfunny joke paired with a matching scribble of the two of you; what do french fries do when they meet? They ketchup!

Harry,

I feel awful for waiting so long to speak to you again.

Your voice and your hugs. I've imagined them every single day.

I miss my Chi. How is she? I hope she's not missing her maman. Give her a kiss from me.

And the biggest kiss to yourself, because you deserve it, mon tout.

I'm inexplicably sorry for leaving so abruptly; I just couldn't take much more. The reminders were too much. Seeing your inconsolable pain every day was too much.

I'm so, so selfish, but I still believe allowing you to heal without my troubles was the best and easiest path for both of us.

I'm sure you noticed, but I may have stolen one of our pictures. It was your favourite, and that's why I had to choose that one, I suppose. Horrible, again.

I miss your dimples (and irritating you by poking them all the time). I miss your lips, they were so soft. No wonder you always bossed me around with the lip balm - I have my own now, I take it everywhere with me.

It smells like caramel.

Most of all, I miss your love. I've never known someone to love like you do. You were, are, and always will be, incredible.

Have you found someone to love yet?

Do you still think about me? If yes, please don't.

It's not fair of me to appear out of nowhere like this and not allow you a chance to reply. If you wish, post your letter to my maman's house - I'm not there, just to crush any other hope you have, but I'll receive it.

I'll be sorry forever, mon amour.

Sois gentil avec toi-même.

Câlins pour toujours, your baby.

Auriele,

I'm so thankful you decided to reach out again. I've missed you. Tellement, tellement.

Chi is brilliant, still eating everything and constantly in need of a haircut. She does miss you.

My hurt is still prevalent, I've accepted that it always will be. I truly don't believe it can be fixed again, but I'm still trying.

I spent the two weeks after your leaving searching for every single picture in existence of us. I cried so many times, I wish I could tell you that I'm wholly recovered and that you're fully forgiven, but I can't.

I think I counted them all. It's either three-hundred and seventy-seven or one-thousand, one-hundred and two (I have two sticky notes labelled pictures, I'm not sure which is correct.)

No one could ever love me like you do, tu es le meilleur.

I suppose that answers both of your questions.

Thank you for the chance to respond. I was incredibly confused when I received your thoughtful letter. I'm assuming by this one's destination being your maman's house, you're in France? You don't have to answer that. I would understand.

Mon bébé chéri, je t'aime.

Harry x

Harry,

It was the least I could do. I hurt you doubly and you never deserved that.

Tell her I love her. Buy her an ice cream for me (note the two dollars also enclosed in this envelope!)

There aren't enough apologies in the world to properly cover the extent of my mistakes, but I'll continue gathering as many as I can. And send them straight to you.

I also wish you could truthfully claim that you're okay, and I hope, with time, that you will be. It's all you ever deserved, mon chéri. You don't ever have to forgive me. I understand entirely if you hate me.

I wouldn't be surprised if those numbers were both low counts. I loved your face, as superficial as it sounds, but it truly was prettier than anything, and my favourite thing was always surrounding myself with it. Aussi longtemps que je pouvais.

My baby, I only tried my hardest to love you, and I sincerely hope I haven't ruined your idea of love so much that I'm your standard. Please, travel, find people to connect with, fall in love with a place, if not a person.

I bet Chi would love Spain. Australia, maybe? Thailand? Your choice entirely. You always were smarter than me (i.e. I left you - doesn't get much dumber.)

I am in France, feel free to ask any question you want about my current life if you decide to write back - you really don't have to. It's okay. You're still perfect.

Just not my address. It's so selfish of me to hide away from you when you're the one who deserves closure, but I'm not ready to share that information. Again, I'm sorry, and I hope you understand.

Tu me manques. Tu me manques ma maman et mon père. Tu me manques au cœur.

All my love, Auriele x

Every day, his thoughts are plagued with ideas of how to write his next letter. Your previous few communications ran smoothly; you seem incredibly apologetic and, as much as he would've gladly ignored the past tense use of 'love' in your most recent letter, he can't help but realise the difference from your first each time he reads it.

He's not certain why his first letter practically poured from his pen and before he knew it, it was sealed, posted and received. This time, however, he can't even construct a way to greet you.

Has distance and time really weakened your connection that much? His favourite childhood Disney movies would be ashamed.

The heartache you've endured together is insufferable, the bitterness remaining fresh and the misery continuing to roll onwards with him, and yet, you're both still alive. Perhaps, he should be a little more thankful.

He's tested out various support groups over the past few months; they appear to help in the moment, but once he returns home to a completely empty house, - aside from Chi - he realises all of his progress to be entirely fake.

How can he realistically recover from his insurmountable loss in solitude?

An apartment which used to breathe vibrant life and excitement for the future, diminished to nothing but silence.

He might as well have lost his house, too. Every second he spends there, surrounded by reminders of his grief, is draining. Of course, if he were a millionaire, he would've discovered a lovely, one bed flat with wide, open floors and windows. If he were a millionaire, though, maybe none of this agony would've ever happened.

He could’ve fixed it.

Regardless, he didn't, and now he returns home every single day, monotonous and finding solace only in rereading your letters and running through his local park with Chi, no matter the weather.

Sometimes, he hears the faint echo of your melodious voice ringing in his ear; mon doux bébé. For a moment, he believes you may be talking to him, but with a resounding giggle of contentment, you never were.

Within a month, he lost both of his sweet baby girls, and the pain is simply too much to comprehend.

Elle, mon cœur,

Firstly, I apologize for my late reply. This letter was, for some reason, incredibly difficult to write.

You hurt me never. Life hurt me, and it hurt you, too, and I'm sorry it's so cruel.

Chi adored her ice cream - vanilla, your favourite - and said thanks! (complimentary picture attached, for you).

Sympathy and apologies aren't a cure. I've received enough of them to know. I hope you have, too. We might not accept it and it might not heal our pain, but it is nice to know you have people by your side.

Mon amour, I would/could never come close to hatred for you. You are my entire heart, and you own everything within it.

I hope, one day, I can forgive you. I hope you can forgive me. We both made mistakes. We're both accountable, and so is fate. Unfortunately, it wasn't on our side, and we have to welcome that.

Your face is certainly Top Five list of physical attributes, which goes as followed:

1. your lips. I know I complained about them being dry all the time, but I miss them, still.

2. your eyes. Somewhere between the ocean and a cottage filled with flowers, they were paradise.

3. your thighs. I am a man - a broken one, but a man nonetheless - and they are certainly the most family-friendly feature I could think of.

4. your smile. Even on my darkest days, your smile was heaven. I hope you're smiling right now. I wish I could see it.

5. your face? All of the above and everything else. Was that cheating?

I wish I could leave here. I wish I could find a small, tropic island where Chi and I can get tipsy on Virgin Mary's and surf all day, but I feel it wouldn't be fair for both of us to run.

Although, Chi would certainly have a great time in Thailand. She told me so.

Did I mention she misses you? We miss you.

I have more questions than you can imagine. This is only my second letter, however, so I suppose I'll stick to three for now, (sorry for all the lists!)

How are you? Mentally? Physically?

Have you made new friends whilst you've been out there?

Would you ever visit London again?

I miss you forever.

Ton bébé.

Harry x

Harry,

It's more tough to write my letters than you might assume. No need to apologise, I understand.

Life is shit. I thought I had accepted that. I never imagined how evil it could be.

Chi, my baby, looks so pretty. I love her haircut (number 8694743? out of infinite).

I have heard my fair share of sympathy. At first, I felt bitter. They didn't understand what I had suffered, they didn't understand the pain I felt. With time, I realised that, sometimes, sorry is all you need to hear to feel a little better. To feel like you're managing life, at least.

I wish I could believe I deserve it, but I truly don't.

My mistakes seem perpetual. I'm constantly remembering new ones. Things I could've noticed faster, signs that I should've recognised. Yours are nothing. You made no mistakes, mon amour, please believe that. As much as fate has been my least favourite higher power for the past year, I agree about welcoming our own.

I would make a list of my personal favourites of your appearance, but I'd be here all day, and I'm meeting with a friend in an hour (your second question - check).

It wasn't fair for either of us to run. I think it's turned out for the best, however.

I can imagine Chi passed out on the beach. You both deserve a holiday. Go to Scotland, or something, at least. Just away from London.

I miss you both. Much more than I can express.

I'm well. Mentally; it's a struggle, but that's just life, I suppose. Physically; my sickness stopped a while ago. I hope your headaches did, too, but I've been searching for cures for those for a long time.

Yes! I've made quite a few close friends. They all know and love you. I'll tell them you asked.

London holds far too many memories for me to bear. You're the only one I can stand. Maybe one day.

Tellement de câlins.

Auriele.

The second your letter arrives and is read fully three times over, Harry's scrambling to collect his fancy paper and ink pen, thousands of ideas about how to reply brimming in his head.

Pen to paper, however, his mind is entirely blank.

You're inching closer to addressing the subject of your pain, and so is he. So far, the only discussions you've had regarding that difficult topic have ended either in awful arguments or uncontrollable, endless crying and they all occurred before your disappearance.

Since then, you've had ten months and seventeen days shared to mature from and process the situation. Perhaps, if you were to have a conversation about it now, it would be beneficial.

Harry is aware of the solution to his strange writer's block and urges to attempt to fix your hurt, but he's not quite sure if he's ready. Physically forcing himself up from his cluttered desk, he tries not to think of the main event when changing his sloppy t-shirt and joggers to jeans and a jumper; it's February, so the wind is still well and alive but, luckily for Chi and the duration of her walks, the temperatures are beginning to rise.

His destination is barely a thirty minute leisurely stroll through the city away, and he feels shameful to admit that this is his first visit in ten and a half months. Several times, he's gathered his courage to stand on the pavement, surveying the vast area but never making it closer than the protective fences.

This time, though, he's determined to make it. And he will, with je t'aime's and sweet giggles bubbling in his ears.

Your je t'aime's and her sweet giggles.

Auriele,

Life will continue to surprise us. It may be malicious, but it's also given me you, so I guess there are a few reasons to be grateful.

I think it's more like *8694744 out of infinite, and I'm sure she'll have many more unpleasant trips to the groomers in the future.

You are handling life impeccably, considering all. You deserve showers of recognition for just being here.

No one has ever been more deserving of my love, and no one ever will.

Please, don't blame yourself entirely. Yes, there were signs. Signs that we both should've seen earlier. We knew as much as everyone else. We can't know if things would be different if we'd noticed them, because they're not.

I'm glad you're enjoying life in France. Is it peaceful? Is it too far to ask if you're living with one of your new friends? What're their names, if you don't mind my asking?

If I were to go on holiday right now, Paris would be my first choice.

I'm glad you're feeling better, I hope you continue to improve mentally in the future. I wish you nothing but true happiness.

If you're ever here, I'd be honoured to see you again.

This might surprise you. Before I wrote this letter, I went to visit her.

I haven't since we were there together.

I talked to her for hours about my life and my pain and your letters and your pain and anything I'd love to say to you if I knew how. Meline always was the best listener, no offence to you. She just understands.

I miss her. I miss you. I miss my babies.

Please, send me a picture of you (always topping lists) in your next letter. I need to see you now. I bet you're glowing.

Toujours, Harry x

Harry, mon amour,

I feel as if I should address the end of your letter first, because I certainly wasn't expecting it. I cried a lot. I'm still crying as I write this.

It feels nice to feel.

I've been so numb to it all. I know I should sob every day, think of her every single second. I don't. That may make me an awful person, but I always preferred not to lie. Especially to you. I don't think the gravity has quite hit me yet.

Back to the normal, top to bottom of your letter.

My family is a gift. My parents, you and Meline, specifically. I've never admired anyone more.

I miss Chi. Especially today, for some reason. Send more pictures of her when you next write. (I enclosed an updated picture of me in town, if you hadn't noticed! It was taken last week.)

I had concerns. Concerns that I didn't follow up on. We knew something was wrong, but we did everything we could, right? We found help. We found medicine. Why didn't it work?

How fucking cruel can life possibly be?

It's much quieter than London. The air quality is visibly better. I am, actually. My closest friends are Leon and Aline. I'm living with them!

Paris is about as good a holiday as you can get. If I'm ever near you, whatever country it happens to be in, I'll be sure to see you.

The last part of your letter. I already touched upon it but not nearly enough.

I haven't said, heard or read her name in eleven months. I miss it. I miss your voice. And her laughs. She was so, so lively and enthusiastic for life.

It's so unfair that she didn't get the chance.

And I agree; she always was a fantastic listener. I told her about our issues more than I should've.

I wish I could hear her again. Her name wasn't Meline Risette Styles for nothing. Her laughs were so pretty. I could've listened on repeat.

I did. For a year.

I miss her.

I miss you. I miss your warmth. I miss your heart and your love and your smile and everything about you.

I miss normality.

When we thought things would be okay.

We were wrong, and hindsight, that's okay, too.

We will heal eventually, I trust that life can't take much more away from me.

Tout mon amour, Auriele x

Since that day, Harry's visited Meline every Sunday without fail - it's only been three weeks, but going in the first place was an unimaginable step.

He even combined Chi's walk with the most recent, and each time, entering, staying at and emerging from the cemetery becomes easier.

The first time, he paced through the gates several times before building the bravery to even step inside without running back. His flight or fight instinct had been touchy the whole time, bias towards flight the entire time.

He just wanted to be as far away from the source of his pain as possible.

At the same time, he just wanted his daughter back. Alive and healthy.

Once he'd settled, laid on the ground like a madman next to her grave, he never wanted to leave her again. He even brought her flowers and a little teddy bear from a shop he'd passed on his hurried journey there.

It was well and truly dark by the time he even considered returning home, because he'd rather be with his sweet baby than alone at home.

Now, Chi sniffs inquisitively around at the bundles of flowers placed on surrounding graves whilst Harry converses with his dead child's grave like she was as animated and eager as he remembered.

It's a little questionable for his sanity, but extremely helpful for his own mental health. And he's trying to fix them both.

He just wishes so much that he'd pushed for more tests in the hospital. If he could, he'd reject their diagnosis and prescription of heart medication and an inhaler for when her asthma flared up.

They claimed she had a weakened respiratory system and, subsequently, her heart didn't deal well under stress, mostly due to her premature birth.

They were correct.

However, they were entirely wrong when they sent you all home with a tub of medicine and advice to lower any potential stressors around her.

Harry remembers scoffing to himself; she was one, what could possibly be stressing her that much?

Apparently, a lot of things.

Your je t'aime's and her sweet giggles.

There's truly nothing better.

Auriele,

I understand completely about any emotion feeling refreshing. For a while, I felt immune to it. I cried and I got angry, but nothing ever really set in.

I'm thankful that I can feel now and it doesn't destroy me.

You're not at all a bad person, or a bad parent. Often, I wish I could forget about her. And not just to remove the pain for a day or two. Also, I appreciate the honesty.

Important things must be talked about first. And while this paragraph isn't quite at the top of my letter, it certainly is my most admiritive.

You're so, so unbelievably beautiful. Even more so, now.

Your eyes are still paradise. That picture is stuck onto the cork board in the kitchen forever.

We did absolutely everything in our power to help our baby. As soon as we noticed an issue, we took her to the hospital. Maybe they accidentally underestimated her condition, maybe they just assumed it'd be treated with that medication.

Either way, we helped her as much as we could. And you were, are, and always will be the most incredible mother.

Meline was lucky, truly. She loved you so much.

As it turns out, life can be our greatest enemy. It's difficult to control and even harder to accept, but everything happens for a reason, I suppose.

Leon and Aline sound wonderful. I know it's not my place, but tell them I said thank you for being there for you? You don't have to.

I've never known someone deserve a full, healthy life more than our sweet girl, and it's an injustice to steal that opportunity from her at such a young age.

She would've been two next week. I'm sure you don't need reminding, but I'm still trying to handle my feelings about it. I already know her birthday is going to be the worst day since she died.

Meline Risette Styles deserves the world, as do you. Please don't be afraid to take it. You've earned it.

Her name still brings me so much joy; little honey, pleasant little laugh. It was such an apt description, in her short life.

Life can always take more, but it gives things that are so wonderful. Sois optimiste.

Tout mon amour et câlins, Harry x

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