#this is part of my three dads self indulgent au where everything is perfect | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

join-the-joywrite · 4 years ago

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and I don't want to (but I love you)

@jatp-week Day 6: favourite trope

Not me doing a self-indulgent and stupidly long enemies to lovers au :>

Julie Molina didn't have enemies in her life. She had competitors, sure. Everyone did. But Sunset Curve took the whole cake. She didn't have enemies but Luke Patterson came dangerously close.

Luke Patterson, on the other hand, fully considered Julie Molina his number one enemy. He had zero qualms about saying that to her face and behind her back. He knew his band was the best but Julie had a real knack for knocking his ego down a bit and he hated her for it. Maybe he wouldn't get so riled up if she was nice about it or if not nice, she was less nasty and more stern. Honestly, it seemed like she took pleasure in criticizing Sunset Curve.

The rivalry between them extended to their bands and friend circles. Well, for the most part, anyway. Julie and Luke let Willie and Alex get away with their little forbidden lovers thing because they both thought the pair was cute together. It was pretty much the only thing they agreed on. Ever.

Willie only ever talked about Alex, not the band and Alex made sure to steer clear of mentioning Julie whenever he talked about Willie. The arrangement worked for all sides.

Julie and Luke's rivalry extended far beyond their music. It crept into their classes and had them fighting for the top spot. The teachers were thrilled. It meant Luke put in as much effort as he possibly could into every assignment or test. Even if it was out of pure spite, it was working.

And then, oh dear, and then there was a group project. Obviously, they split to opposite ends of the room with their friends to choose pairs (except Willie and Alex, who were shoved together and assured it was perfect) but apparently, it was important to learn how to work with people you dislike because in the workplace you might be forced to work with people you dislike -- or something like that.

Julie and Luke had never let their rivalry coerce them into doing stupid things -- except the one time where Carrie was convinced Luke could hold his breath longer and Julie almost drowned in the school pool to prove Carrie wrong -- but the moment they were paired up, Julie and Luke both wanted nothing more than to break several school rules, vandalism being the top one and starting violent fights being the second. It was unclear if they wanted to fight each other or their teacher.

Matters were made worse when their friends got to pair off together on their own terms while they were stuck with each other. The only thing keeping them from completely refusing to do any work was that they both were still competing for the highest scores.

Their friends had never been more entertained and the two opposing groups bonded over watching the two most stubborn people they knew suffer out a school project together. The clear awkwardness between them was hilarious and it was a pleasant thing to see them sitting at the same table and not trying to verbally murder each other. Bobby turned out to be the funniest person in the whole group. He had a meme-y caption for every moment they caught of Julie and Luke sitting near enough to have a normal conversation and the others loved it. He also seemed to be able to relate all the memes to the pair and was strangely good at photoshop, which earned him the Groupchat King title. (Julie and Luke were completely unaware of this groupchat excluding only them -- which, for the others' safety, was for the best.) Flynn's favourite was a photo of Julie with a feral look on her face, miming strangling a smug Luke. Me & 2020 was Bobby's winning caption. She wasn't sure which was which and that made it even better, in her opinion.

As the weeks passed, Julie and Luke's rivalry mellowed. As far as they said, it was still going strong but their actions told another story. There were playful nudges in the hallway, now. Teasing death glares across a classroom. Locked gazes and stifled giggles at inside jokes -- the fact that they even had those was surprising enough. They willingly shared a lunch table for the sole purpose of interrupting a mini date between Willie and Alex but most of it was spent in their own world anyway. Their mockery of each other had become gentler and more harmless teasing than anything.

And then one Tuesday, Luke didn't show up at school.

Of course, Luke's band knew exactly what was up, but they -- with support from Julie's friends -- decided it would be fun to play dumb and send Julie to Luke's house, just to check up on him, you know, despite the fact that the group project was long over and she really had no need to meddle further into Luke's life. The mere fact that Julie forgot she still had class and was seriously ready to leave immediately said a lot.

"I can promise you that it's really not as bad as it looks," Luke said from under several pillows, a puffy duvet and maybe three stuffed animals, "but there's no band practice today and I'm not coming to school tomorrow either so can one of you flick Julie's forehead for me? It's tradition."

"Band practice, huh?" Julie said, dropping her bag on the floor with a soft thud. "And here I thought you just had nothing more interesting going on in your life than disrupting mine."

Luke sat up fast enough that his head spun, his vision swam and two pillows fell off the bed. "Who told you where I live?"

"You did, dork. Here, I brought your homework and my dad's trying something out in the kitchen. He misread balf the recipe so it's the blandest thing I've ever tasted but if you're sick, it'll be good for you."

Luke responded to the bit that made sense. "I don't want bland food," he said, scrunching up his nose as Julie set a small stack of papers on the desk in the corner and walked up to him with a covered bowl.

"As if you'd know the difference. Your mom said you can't taste anything anyway."

"You talked to my mom?" Luke asked, looking mortified.

"Yeah, duh. What, did you think I climbed through your bedroom window? I don't care that much for you."

"Aww, I knew you cared for me."

Julie didn't respond to it. "So this is supposed to be a vegetable stew," she said, tapping the plastic wrap over the bowl, "but like I said, mistakes were made."

"Well, what is it then?" Luke asked, leaning over to peer at the bowl.

"I'd call it . . . semi-flavoured water with surprise veggies."

"Joy."

"I know, right? Anyway, I'll leave you to your . . . pillow fort? Cute stuffies. I have the same penguin."

Luke glanced at the penguin that was still secured in his arm. "Don't you dare tell your friends. Especially not Flynn. She's ruthless."

"She is not. But fine, only because you're sick. I'll be back for my bowl tomorrow and it better be empty."

Luke watched Julie leave with a look of amazement. As soon as he heard his front door close, footsteps pattered through the hallway, leading up to his mother sticking her head in his room. "I like her."

"I'm going back to sleep," Luke said, diving back into the safety of all his pillows, wondering if it was the fever or Julie that set his cheeks blazing.

Probably the fever.

"Good afternoon, dork. Reggie says you said you liked the semi-flavoured water and my dad felt very appreciated by that so he's made some actual stew for you to try. It's beef stew this time so please don't get surprised. Did you do yesterday's homework? You should, because I brought today's. How do you feel?"

Luke, who had been staring at Julie with his mouth slightly open in a perfect picture of surprise, blinked when he realised she'd stopped speaking. "Don't you knock?!"

"Your mom said you were asleep and I could just leave everything here for you but you were awake so. . ." Julie trailed off, shrugging.

"You . . . you are so strange."

Julie shrugged as she set the homework down on the desk and walked up to the nightstand to put the covered bowl down in Luke's reach. "You need to come back to school. I feel bad bullying your friends."

"I'm sure they'll be glad to hear that," Luke said sarcastically. He paused for a second. "Yeah, I did the homework. Most of it. My mom said it'll help to get out of bed and do something. I tried to play the guitar but she was adamant I didn't do that something."

Julie nodded and walked back to Luke's desk. She rifled through the mess and picked up all the homework. "I'll finish this essay for you," she said almost absently, searching among the pages. "Please tell me you did your science homework. I got a lot of that wrong and no one wants to give me the answers because apparently, I should learn my work."

"Uh . . . yeah. Um, yeah, I did the science. Wh-- what do you mean 'do the essay' for me?"

Julie looked up as she gathered everything into a pile of messy and uneven papers. "It's on the African American civil rights movement. It's factual and ninety percent of the class will have the same essay anyway so--"

"No. No, I mean . . . why?"

"Oh. Uh . . . why not?"

Luke didn't have a response, so he fell silent.

"Well, that's all of yesterday's homework. Get some rest and then make sure you eat. I can't have my favourite punching bag get too weak to take a hit."

As Julie turned and left his room, Luke felt the sudden urge to scream, so instead, he slammed his burning face into his favourite penguin. Yes, she had called him a punching bag, but she'd also called him her favourite.

"Music class just isn't the same without booing you. Also, Alex said you managed to keep the beef stew down yesterday so my dad thought you could try something a little heavier. This is an experimental chicken and fried rice . . . thing. I do not reccomend eating unless you're sure you're okay enough for a full meal. That said, I brought more beef stew in case you're not up for the chicken and rice."

"You can't just walk in unannounced!" Luke cried as Julie set down the two bowls on the nightstand.

"I can, actually," Julie said, flashing a set of keys at Luke.

Luke's jaw dropped when he recognized the keychains. "Hey, those are mine!"

"Wow, so observant. Your mom gave it to me before I left yesterday because your dad is at work and she needed to go out today and with you holed up in here, there wouldn't be anyone to open for me."

Luke frowned. "Oh, yeah, she said something like that but I was half-asleep."

Julie was pleasantly surprised to find Luke's homework neatly gathered at the corner of the desk. It didn't escape her how Luke seemed to glow with pride when she commented on it. She had to fight a smile as she dropped Luke's homework into her bag.

"Get some rest, dork. If you need anything, don't hesitate to call someone from Sunset Swerve. I'll be busy."

"It's Sunset CURVE and you know it."

"Really? I never noticed."

Luke pouted. "Tuxedo Sam says you're being very mean right now. I'm sick and I deserve care."

"Well, you can tell your stupid penguin that Skipper will beat his ass."

"You named your penguin after the penguins from Madagascar?"

"You call yours Tuxedo Sam."

"Yeah, okay, that's fair."

Julie rolled her eyes and turned to leave. "Take a nap, Moody McSleeveless."

Luke glanced at the penguin laying nearby as he heard Julie lock up the house again. "Don't look at me like that, she's mean all the time."

"I BROUGHT CAKE!"

Luke scrambled up, launching Tuxedo Sam off the bed. "Who died?"

"No one died," Julie said, picking up the penguin as she walked up to Luke's bed. "It's Friday and since you're doing a little better, I thought you could do with a small treat. Tuxedo Sam agrees."

"Give me back my penguin," Luke said, reaching both arms out to Julie.

"Did you do yesterday's homework?"

"Yes."

"Did you really eat both bowls of food yesterday?"

"Yes."

"And keep it down?"

"Yes, ma'am, now can I please have my penguin back?"

Julie passed Luke the stuffed animal. "You're adorable," she blurted, turning away immediately to hide her own stunned look. She cleared her throat as she headed to the desk to grab Luke's homework. "So, that group project? We got a ninety-five."

That distracted Luke easily enough. "What happened to the other five?!"

"We're very bad at teamwork," Julie said, glancing back at Luke over her shoulder to see him relax against the pillows.

"Ah. That . . . makes sense."

Julie nodded. "Mhm."

The silence that blanketed the room wasn't as awkward as it should have been.

"I have to go. Most of the teachers said it would be okay to get your homework on Monday, but Mr Hughes is on my tail about your chemistry paper. My dad is making cupcakes tonight for some reason and I told Willie he could have some, so I'll send extra with him to give to Alex to give to you, but enjoy that crappy store cake for now. I left proper lunch with your mom for when you feel like it."

It didn't register that the only reason Mr Hughes would be harassing Julie about Luke's homework was if Julie herself had taken responsibility for Luke. Well, it did register, but by then, Julie was long gone and the only response Luke could muster was a muffled scream into poor Tuxedo Sam.

"Oh, ew, gross. Luke, it smells like the middle school locker room in here. What were you doing?"

Luke had never looked more sheepish in his life as he pointed to the canister on his nightstand -- right next to his alarm clock. "My phone went off about an hour ago and I thought it was the alarm so I did the smart thing and slammed it down but I missed. Obviously."

Holding her nose, Julie dropped everything she was carrying on Luke's table and tore the curtains open, pushing the windows as far as they could go. She stood there for a moment, relishing in the fresh air. "I'll come back inside when I can breathe," Julie said, halfway out the window.

Luke wanted to melt into his pillows. A week later and he was only feeling slightly better. The pros of it was that Julie visited every day with something tasty and a level of snark that only amused him. The cons of it was that Julie visited every day and left him flustered and red in the face.

He firmly believed that Julie only came by every day because she had homework to drop off, but today was Saturday. There was no more homework to drop off.

And she could have just backtracked right out the door again but instead, she headed for the windows on the other side of his room. Why?

Because she's taking care of you, dork.

Luke couldn't help but think that the logical voice in his head sounded suspiciously like Julie.

"Hey, my parents have some stupid couple's yoga thing on Saturdays. Did you break in?"

Julie pulled the windows halfway closed and stepped back into the room. "No, I still have your keys. Your dad tried to give me the spare key to the front door but your mom said it'll be fine if I kept yours until you're back on your feet."

"Wow. She really trusts you, huh?"

Julie shrugged. "I'm a very trustworthy person."

"No, you're not. I saw you lose a pen that you stuck behind your ear and then you proceeded to lose three more by tucking them behind your other ear and in your pockets. You then tried to steal mine."

"I was fourteen," Julie said defensively.

"It happened last week!"

"I felt fourteen."

Luke gave Julie a deadpan look.

"Cute pyjamas."

"I know, right? Bobby got us matching ones when we were like fifteen for band bonding. I mean, I grew out of the pants but the shirt still fits."

Julie scoffed as she stared at the dark haired cartoon smiling at her from the pink shirt. "Looks really good on you, Skip."

"Hey, I like being Skipper. She's Barbie's most intelligent sister."

"Oh, yeah?" Luke didn't even notice that Julie had made herself comfortable at the foot of his bed. "And if you're Skipper, who are the others?"

"Bobby is Chelsea, 'cause he's the youngest of us, Alex is Barbie, 'cause his summer jobs have been everywhere, and Reg is Stacie, 'cause she's Bobby's favourite and Bobby's favourite bandmate is Reg."

Julie's head tilted slightly. "You sound drunk."

"The bottle said one teaspoon of cough syrup but I didn't read and I took two tablespoons. It's okay, though. Mom panicked and called the doctor and he says the cough syrup he gave me is for kids and I'm just really, really, really intolerant. Which you should remember for me because I plan to be super famous with the band and there are gonna be a lot of after parties and I don't wanna get drunk five minutes in. I think the cough syrup is kicking in."

"Luke Patterson, you are unbelievable."

"I know, right?" He attempted a winning smile, but it came off as plain childlike.

Julie chastised herself for finding him adorable. They were mortal enemies and she had to remember that. Then what are you doing in his room on a Saturday, after explicitly telling the rest of his band to stay away?

Julie found it unnerving how much the voice in her head sounded like a teasing Luke.

"You're like, really annoying."

Julie frowned. "I -- I'm sorry?"

"You should be." Luke was sitting cross-legged now, fiddling with the ears of a stuffed bunny. "It's really messing with my head."

Julie decided she liked tipsy Luke -- even if it was just cough syrup. "How so?"

"No, it's nothing."

"You can tell me, Luke. I promised not to tell anyone about your stuffed animals and I kept it, right?"

"Yeah, but this time the secret about you. You're not allowed to know."

Curiosity more than anything made Julie lean forward slightly. "It'll be our secret."

"Okay, but you have to promise not to talk about it."

Julie nodded quickly. Luke tugged at the bunny's ears for a moment.

"You're like . . . really pretty."

Julie couldn't help the soft laugh that bubbled out of her. Adorable, she thought.

"Like, a lot of pretty. You're pretty on the inside, too."

"On the inside?"

"Yeah. On the inside. You know, your heart."

"M-my heart?"

Luke nodded at his stuffed rabbit. "Yeah. You have a really pretty heart. It beats like a drum. Making music. Like you."

Julie's mouth hung open, surprise silencing her.

"You have the prettiest music in you. I can hear it like -- like a song that gets stuck in my head all day. It's really annoying but it's so pretty. It smells like flowers and it looks like butterflies."

At this point, Julie didn't think she'd be able to speak, even if she knew what to say. Luke was talking to the stuffed animal, frowning as he struggled to voice his thoughts understandably.

"Sometimes it's just so loud and I wanna cover my ears and run away but it just gets louder and louder and then you come over and you're saying something mean but the music is there and it's not so loud anymore but I still can't hear anything else. Your heart sounds like a ballad."

Julie was frozen to her seat at the edge of the bed. Part of her wondered if it was Luke talking or the fever. Part of her desperately hoped it was Luke.

"Julie, you are music."

It was a simple sentence. Anyone could have said it. It could mean a lot or it could mean nothing at all. If anyone else had said it to her, she would have taken it as the highest form of a compliment. But that wasn't what Luke was saying.

Everyone knew that Luke spoke best through lyrics and chords. His books and desks were covered in etched notes and scribbled words. Luke lived and breathed music. It was everything to him. Without it, Luke didn't know who he was.

And he compared it to Julie.

Julie stared at the text on her phone. She bit her lower lip, unsure of what to say in response.

Mom said you visited yesterday. I was dazed for most of it. I didn't say anything stupid or incriminating, right? Not that anything could be more incriminating than the three stuffed animals on my bed.

Ten minutes after that, another had come through. Jules, are you ignoring me? Did I do something?

Then another five minutes later. This is still Julie Molina's number, right?

Julie quickly typed out something before she chickened out again and tossed her phone to the foot of her bed once it was sent.

Hey. Got busy in the kitchen with dad. No, you're good. See you at school tomorrow?

Julie scrambled for her phone to send one last word.

A few streets away, Luke stared at the word 'dork'. He was sure he had said something. He vaguely remembered yapping on about music to Julie -- duh, what else did they share? -- and then suddenly, she wasn't there anymore. He wondered if he'd fallen asleep talking and Julie had left then or if he really had said something to make her leave.

Yeah, he wrote back, see you at school.

Luke cornered Julie as soon as he caught sight of her in the school hallway. "You've been ignoring me and I don't like that."

Julie squeaked. "I most definitely am not ignoring you."

"Julie, you're pretty much the only person in this school that doesn't keep their phone on mute or vibrate. I know you heard my texts yesterday."

"So what if I am?" Julie asked, folding her arms. "We're not friends, so why should you care if I reply to your texts or not? In fact, why were you even messaging me in the first place?"

While Luke fumbled for a response, Julie slipped past him and continued on her way to class.

"Oh, that is just rude!" Luke yelled after Julie.

She ignored him all through any classes they shared and when lunch rolled around, she made sure to sit with Carrie and Flynn at a small table. Luke had never looked more offended in his life as he joined Reggie in sitting with Alex and Willie.

"What did you do on Saturday?" Alex asked, leaning forward to whisper. "Julie was fine when she told us we don't need to come by at all."

"Julie told you not to come over?" Luke asked, ripping his gaze from Julie to Alex and then Reggie, who shook his head.

"Bro, she actually called Alex and told him that we don't need to come see you because she was going to."

"Yeah, I remember her being there but I was drugged up on cough syrup."

"Weak," Alex whispered loudly, grinning when he made Willie laugh.

"Maybe you said something?" Willie suggested.

"Yeah, probably! But she's not talking to me. She's not even insulting me, which I would very much prefer over this apathy."

"You know where she lives," Reggie said dismissively. "Maybe you should pay her a visit."

Luke glanced across the cafeteria to see Julie quickly whip her head down to stare at her fold. "Yeah. Maybe."

Julie was tired and wanted nothing more than to go to sleep. Her plans were thrown way off the rails when she walked into her room and found Luke petering around the shelves beside her bed.

"What are you doing here?"

Luke drew his hand back sharply. "Cute box. What's in it?"

"None of your business," Julie snapped, hurriedly closing her bedroom door. "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to talk to you but you were ignoring me and--"

"You could've just yelled at me from outside," Julie hissed. "I would have come down to shut you up! You can't be in here. Get out of my room."

"No. Not until you tell me why you've been avoiding me since Saturday. Jules, what--"

"Fine! Go and wait for me in the garage. I'll come talk to you in there."

Luke hesitated, unsure if Julie was serious.

When she heard footsteps getting closer, Julie grabbed Luke by the neckline of his shirt and dragged him to the window. "Get out," she whispered hurriedly, "I'll come down to the garage, I promise."

Thankfully, by the time her father arrived, Luke was gone.

"Who were you talking to, mija?"

"Luke," Julie said with a smile. She pointed at the phone. "He liked the cupcakes I sent with Willie."

"Oh, that's great. You didn't take something yesterday and today? Is he feeling better?"

"Much," Julie said, nodding, "in fact, we have some talking to do, so I'm gonna meet him in the garage in a few minutes."

"So late?"

Julie absolutely could not lie to her dad. But she could do half truths. "It's a long overdue discussion."

"School work?"

Julie shrugged. "Music."

"Ah. The garage makes sense. Well, do you wanna take some food down? Midnight snack?"

"Thanks, dad," Julie said with a smile, "you're the best."

"Oh, your dad is the best!" Luke cried as soon as he saw Julie walk in with a plate of cookies.

"These are experimental, too. They're some kind of oatmeal and choc mint blend. They taste good, in my opinion."

"Everything your dad makes tastes good," Luke said, grabbing three cookies. "My mom's starting to get jealous of how much I love your dad's cooking."

Juli smiled and set the plate down on the coffee table. Was there any point beating around the bush? Sugarcoating things?

"You told me I was music."

Luke paused, one and a half cookies gone. "What?"

Julie kept her gaze trained on the tassels of the carpet. "You told me I'm annoying . . . because I'm pretty. Because I have a pretty heart. You said it beats like a drum and I have the prettiest music in me that gets stuck in your head. It --"

"Smells like spring and looks like butterflies. . ." Luke looked positively mortified.

Julie, refusing to look up, did not notice. "You said . . . you said my heart sounds like a ballad and then -- and then you told me I am music."

Had he really said all that aloud? Well, no wonder Julie was avoiding him like the plague.

Julie tensed up when she could see Luke's feet step in front of her. Almost every part of her screamed that this was wrong. They shouldn't be so close without bickering and fighting. But deeper within, beyond the confines of logic and sense, Luke's voice told her that this was the furthest thing from wrong.

"I said all that? Aloud?"

Julie nodded.

"You know what music is to me."

Julie nodded again.

"Jules," Luke said gently. "Julie, look at me."

Julie refused to, so Luke gingerly tucked his finger under her chin and lifted her head, waiting until her gaze fell on him before speaking.

"You know what music is to me," he said again, prompting another nod from Julie. "Then you know what you mean to me."

Julie blinked a few times and shook her head. "No. No, that's just the fever talking. You -- you didn't really mean all of that."

"If you really believe that, why are you avoiding me?"

"I . . . I don't know."

Luke dropped his hand to take hold of Julie's. He glanced at her, waiting for her to pull away. When she didn't, he interlocked his fingers with hers. "I meant every word. Okay, maybe not literally, but you know what I mean."

Julie shook her head. "We're not even friends, Luke."

"Hm, well, who said I wanted to be your friend?"

Julie wanted to hate Luke. She wanted to loathe the sight of him. She didn't want to like him, let alone love him.

And yet, she did.

So before the overthinker in her could stop her, Julie leaned up on tiptoes and brushed her lips against his. Luke beamed at her like a kid on Christmas morning.

"Not the response I was expecting, but definitely one I'm enjoying."

"Don't make me regret it."

"Yes, ma'am. Now, what are my chances of getting two more? And one for the road? Within the next five seconds becaus my mom doesn't know I snuck out and she think I'm still sick."

"Dork," Julie said fondly, shaking her head.

"I'm serious!"

"You can have two."

"Three."

"Two."

"Four."

"One."

"Two will do," Luke said, letting go of Julie's hands to wrap his arms around her. He gave her a small squeeze. "Plus a hug."

"Dork," Julie said again. But he was her dork and he was her favourite.

Before anyone comes for me about the cough syrup thing, I'm drawing from experience. I mean I never confessed my undying love for anyone but I did blurt out some weird shit. Also, THAT WAS LONG AND IF YOU SURVIVED THE ENTIRE THING, CONGRATULATIONS TO YOU

Mara's masterlist

#julie and the phantoms #julie and the fat ones #julie and the himbos #jatp #juke #julie x luke #julie molina #luke patterson #sunset curve #jatpweek

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husbandograveyard · 5 years ago

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Family beach day - Shanks x Reader

One Piece of summer challenge - week 5

part of the challenge hosted by @doctorgerth & @laws-yellow-submarine I’m attempting all 11 weeks, 11 different prompts and 11 different characters! This one is a little different, because I am a SUCKER for domestic fluff and I just really needed to make this happen, cause well, I am allowed to write something self-indulgent every once in a while UwU. Enjoy some actual dad Shanks!

Prompt: Sandcastles - Character: Shanks - Word count: 1.5K

modern AU. 2nd person. female reader. Some swearing and some sliiiiggghtt suggestive themes if you squint a little. Very fluffy and domestic otherwise and very much still SFW!

You frustratedly honked the horn multiple times.

“Don’t cut me off you ass....absolute.... stupid person." Benn, in the passenger seat, chuckled at your choice of words. After Shanks had accidentally taught your four year old daughter the word 'dickhead', the two of you had decided to keep language in mind whenever your little angel was around. And right now she was in the backseat, counting cars with her dad, as you were trying to advance through traffic, as if everyone had decided that today was a perfect day for a trip to the beach.

Shanks and Benn were more often than not busy running their business and days off were rare. But this summer your red-headed husband had made a point out of taking a few days off, leaving the business in the hands of Benn, who now had a very rare day off that he had agreed to spend with your family. Your daughter had been asking to see ‘uncle Benn again’ and since it was summer and super hot, you had decided that a beach day might be the best way to get some stress relief for the two men, and a nice adventure for your toddler.

But unfortunately, the whole world had concluded that today was a wonderful day to go to the beach, and thus you were a little stuck in traffic, with the air conditioning not working as you wished it would and the road seemed to be filled with people driving for the very first time. It was frustrating you to no end, and Benn’s well-intended advice on where to drive or what to look out for was not received as well as it would be if you were more relaxed.

One glance in your rear mirror made everything better: your daughter giggling in her car seat, excitedly pointing out things and telling her dad about all the things she sees, with Shanks replying to all her stories in pure amazement, asking questions and just generally making your daughter feel like she was being the world’s best storyteller right now and it just melted your heart.

After plenty of childproofed curses, aggressive honking and some more unnecessary advice from Benn you finally had made your way to the beach, and picking a spot close enough to the water that you could keep an eye on whoever stayed with your stuff, but not too close so you wouldn’t have to move too far when flow tide came around.

You whipped out the sunscreen, putting a generous amount on your daughter’s arms, legs, shoulders and face before rubbing some on yourself and handing it over to your husband who just shot you some puppy eyes. “y/n, my love, you know it gets a little difficult to reach my right side like this?” You chuckled at him, knowing after years without his left arm your husband was perfectly capable of applying sunscreen everywhere but his back, but he was just using it as an excuse to get a little massage from you. And who were you to say no?

‘Uncle’ Benn was already walking towards the sea with your daughter, excellent at reading the room, and left you for your little bit of quality time. You faked a deep sigh and rolled your eyes, but that went completely ignored or unnoticed by your other half, who was too busy enthusiastically already pulling his shirt over his head. You couldn’t keep the fake annoyed face any longer and laughed as you ordered him to lay down on the towel for a bit.

“Usually it’s the men giving the ladies a nice massage”, you joked as you squirted some cold sunscreen on his back, making him flinch a little bit at the sudden coldness. “I never said I’d not give you one.” He relaxed the moment your hands started working the product into his skin. “hmmmmm, I’ll keep you to that then” you chuckled. He was just about to retort with something that would probably be one of his trademark suggestive comments when two tiny -and very sandy- hands came to assist yours in rubbing the sunscreen on. Benn didn’t even look sorry as he said your daughter saw dad laying down and wanted to help get him up. You laughed even harder, at Benn, at your lovely darling who was now giving her father an unnecessary back scrub and the man in question, who was for sure pouting that his dirty talk would have to wait for a later hour.

Benn watched your stuff, smoking and reading a nice book he brought along as the two of you too your daughter into the water, Shanks hellbent on teaching her to float already -”never too early to learn how to swim”- and your daughter giggling like crazy cause she was a natural, and the hand helping her float was mostly tickling her.

After some time in the water, you went on to collect seashells, keeping the most pretty ones to spend a rainy day crafting something out of them. You had to physically stop your daughter from overfilling the bucket and nearly adding a jellyfish to it. You picked her up before she could grab the potentially stingy creature, which triggered some tears of course, like any toddler would cry for you not allowing them to hurt themselves, but the crisis was averted quickly by your husband and some ice cream. She nearly forgot about the bucket all together, and the three of you made your way back to your stuff for another round of sunscreen and dropping off the bucket when you noticed Benn was fast asleep, book on his face, probably to protect him from the sun.

It was quite the funny sight, but you actually felt a little bad for him, he was probably beyond tired from overworking so much in Shanks’ absence. You quietly put your stuff down and led your daughter somewhere a little further so she could play without disturbing uncle Benn’s sleep. “Let’s try and make a sandcastle okay?”

You and your daughter spent more than an hour perfecting the sandcastle, Shanks watching with a grin on his face how you painstakingly tried to carve small windows in the towers, only for your daughter to try and help and accidentally reduce the tower to a formless pile of sand again. After about the third attempt, you were getting a little frustrated behind the encouraging smile you were flashing your daughter, and Shanks decided to come to your aid. He motioned your daughter over and started whispering something in her ear. The way she so eagerly nodded made you suspicious immediately.

“Yes! Special Sandcastle!!”

You narrowed your eyes at your husband, who just innocently told you you could finish the fancy castle in peace while the two of them would make an easy yet special castle. Of course, you were more interested in whatever that meant and followed them as they made their way back to where Benn was still comfortably snoozing. Shanks motioned for both of you to be very very quiet as he started piling sand on Benn’s legs. He must’ve been completely out of it, because he didn’t wake up. Your daughter started immediately helping, you’d almost never seen her so quietly playing, and you weren’t sure whether you should be scolding your child and manchild of a husband, or laugh quietly and help them out. You opted for the latter, but not before whispering to your favorite redhead that he’d take the blame when Benn woke up.

“Only if you give me another one of those massages tonight”.

He cut you off with a kiss before you could even protest or say something about using such a tone in front of your daughter. You decided to ditch the conversation and focus on burying Benn.

The three of you had reached his shoulders in the making of your ‘extra special sandcastle’ when the soft snoring stopped coming from under the book, and your eyes widened. “I swear to god, if this was your idea Shanks...” “Yes! Daddy wanted to make an extra special Sandcastle!”

You laughed, sitting back a little so you could deny involvement and gently removing the book from Benn’s face who was in between an angry glare and an amused grin, the latter mostly put on to not worry your daughter.

“Uncle Benn is my favorite Sandcastle” “How about you help me get out of the sandcastle and then we can completely bury Daddy?” Your daughter nodded eagerly at ‘her favorite sandcastle’ who was already getting up and dusting the sand off of his form, and you saw Shanks get up in order to run away. “Wanna help y/n?” Benn said as he picked up your daughter, ready to run after Shanks. “Ehhh... I think I’m sitting this one out, someone’s gotta watch our stuff after all” You giggled as they ran off.

You grabbed the book Benn was reading earlier and made yourself comfortable, grinning as you listened to the playful shouts that weren’t entirely acted from the members of your little family. A day to the beach had been a good idea.

#One piece of summer #Shanks x reader #Shanks #Akagami no shanks x reader #Akagami no shanks #doctorgerth #Laws-yellow-submarine #One piece reader insert #one piece writing #reader insert #domestic fluff #summer writing challenge #writing challenge #personal writing

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ourstarscollided · 4 years ago

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jatp fanworks appreciation - day 3 (wips)

wip wednesday - I didn’t think I wanted to join in on this day for my own stuff considering I’ve never posted anything original for this fandom, but I think this might just be the little boost I need from myself to actually finish the wips that I have sitting around. I am peer pressuring myself and holding myself accountable by posting this - or at least that’s what I’m telling myself. Most of the past 6 mths has just been me screaming to no one in a Google Doc, so here are some things I’ve been ruminating about over the last 6 months (and if my secret agenda is to get other people to write about it so I don’t have to? Then that’s between you and me).

Everything’s under a read more because I like giving context and that usually spirals out of control!?!?

If you would like to see more from any of the below, feel free to shoot me an ask/message and I can definitely share some more! (Or you can just come yell at me about JATP in general.)

Strangers Fake Dating AU // Julie x Luke

I’m a simple person. I see a prompt, I latch onto it, and then I completely miss the entire point of the prompt as my imagination goes wild for no real reason. This really was supposed to be a super short drabble, but it manifested into a 3k+ thing that isn’t even finished.

Julie’s not really sure what she’s supposed to do now. Nothing has ever prepared her for a situation in which she’s supposed to pretend to be a stranger’s girlfriend, especially if that situation involves parents. Does she continue this ruse? Can she come up with a quick enough excuse to tell this Luke character that she actually can’t stay? What if this is just all an elaborate plan to kidnap her? Has she been listening to too many true crime podcasts? Why does Luke smell so good? Does he know how to cook? Why does his shirt not have sleeves? What-

“I can hear you thinking from here.” Her head whips up at the sound of Luke’s voice, which is now at a whisper and kind of frantic. “I just- I just really needed to get my mom off my back, so I kinda need you to pretend to be my girlfriend. Just for the night. I swear I’ll make it up to you somehow.”

Julie studies Luke’s face and it’s nearly impossible to not cave under his gaze, which can only be simply described as ‘puppy dog eyes’. She finds herself smiling back, letting out a huff, “I hope you like lasagna.” And the grin that spreads across the boy’s face is enough for her to know that he’s incredibly relieved that she agreed.

“I’m Luke by the way. Luke Patterson.”

(Okay, he’s kinda cute. And no one this cute is a serial killer. Right?)

She gives a small smile back, “I’m Julie.”

5+1 alive!Juke AU // Julie x Luke

Inspired by paper - LANY

This is one of the first things I ever felt the urge to write down back in September because I love exploring the idea of how two people can appear to be the perfect relationship on the outside, but are actually fighting their own demons. Especially when it comes to celebrities and people who are in the spotlight. It’s basically a 5+1 fic about the moments from other people’s perspectives who happen to orbit around Julie/Luke that all revolve around paper. My outline for this is so long because I can’t manage to narrow it down, and there’s zero cohesiveness but I do have little things jotted down.

“Hey little man,” Luke’s knelt down to match his 5 year-old height, and a hand extends out to him for a high five, “What are you doing here?”

His eyes flicker to the left, towards his own apartment door, where his mom is giving him an encouraging nod. “ I- I just wanted to-” he stutters and finds himself looking at his feet as he shuffles back and forth on the spot. “I- I drew you guys something!”

He shoves the paper out towards the older boy in front of him, but doesn’t look up.

Reincarnation AU // Julie x Luke

I had a random thought in December about how magical it is that Julie and Luke are so tied to one another that their love transcends time and space, which will always lead them back to one another. I remember reading a book a long time ago about how the main character is fated to die at a certain age, and that kind of sparked this little idea. I can’t bring myself to actually plot out every single timeline right now, but I did manage to write a little bit.

It will never be as complex as Rosie’s idea and all the wonderful additions in the link here, and I don’t really plan on it being anything more than a small idea. But I really do still think someone should write some sort of reincarnation AU cause I’d hop on that so fast!!

“Okay- that’s not- Luke. You seriously just ran away?”

“What was I supposed to do Alex? We all know how this ends.”

His friend looks at him, face painted in understanding and he sighs, “Yeah. Yeah, we do.”

Because it’s true, Alex does know, so does Reggie and Bobby. Most importantly, so does Luke. It’s the exact same tragic love story every time.

Call it a curse or fate or destiny. Maybe it’s because Mercury is in retrograde. Whatever. It always ends the same way - with a heartbreaking goodbye, a whisper of the promise that they’ll find each other again, and the possibility of a happy ending. He’s said the same goodbye at least 734 times, but it’s not like he’s counting or anything. Fuck the universe and its mystical ways.

Competitive Alex // Alex x Willie

No real thoughts or reasons for this other than I just think I self-projected my need to play board games with people in real life into a fic. And maybe a little bit of my competitiveness onto Alex and then threw in Willie because I think he would be able to handle it while also finding it endearing. I also have written nothing about the actual competitiveness, it’s just 2k words of Alex crushing on Willie.

“Wait,” his eyes dart between the three boys, “You both know Willie? How come I’ve never met him?”

His roommates look at each other, and there’s a smirk on Luke’s face when he says, “Actually Alex, I think you have. Remember that time you got really drunk after one of our shows?”

Oh no. He really hopes that it’s not the time he’s thinking of, so he tries to sound nonchalant. “You’re going to have to be more specific, Luke.”

“The night we played at that tiny bar at the edge of the campus! We got paid in those tiny colourful shots?” He doesn’t really know where Luke is going with this, so he’s slowly nodding along. “And you were super upset that the hot dog vendor at the end of the street was closed?”

Dear Julie, Love Mom series

I made myself sad with this thought when I first watched the show and was talking to my friend about how I think that Rose would’ve left messages for the Molina family, especially when we found out that Wake Up was actually from her mom. I wrote a bigger explanation for it here.

Anyways, I started with the one for Julie’s wedding and it kind of became an 8k monster with three different POVs?!? As much as I love how I wrote this, I feel too unsure about my writing to share it in full, so you will get carefully selected looks alkfe. (I’m also kind of stuck on some of the more emotional scenes and I may or may not have procrastinated by photoshopping a moodboard for it.)

Excerpt 1 (Julie POV): A look into where I’m going with this whole letters from Rose thing.

The key clicks into place, and with a turn, the latch falls open. She’s not sure what she wants to find in the box, and she’s too scared to think about it really. All she knows is that this was the sign from her mom that she was waiting for all week, and in true Rose fashion, her mom had managed to give it to her, even if at the last second. Her dad turns the box to face Julie, and gestures to her to open up the lid.

Tucked inside is a VHS tape, the words ‘For Julie, on your wedding day’ written in her mom’s cursive on the cover. Some loose glitter and confetti fall back into the box as she reaches in to pick up the tape and turn it over in her hands. There’s a little purple butterfly etched on the back, the same one that’s been drawn on all the other messages that her mom had left her. Her finger automatically finds its way, tracing the shape of the small doodle.

“Do you want me to leave you alone, mija?”

Excerpt 2 (Julie POV): This part has absolutely nothing to do with the main plot of the story, but it self-inserted itself into this fic after @tangledstarlight and I talked about You’re Still the One by Shania Twain being their first dance. This whole scene came to me at 4am one night and might be the most self-indulgent thing I’ve ever written.

They knew that when they had asked Reggie to be in charge of the first dance performance, that they (and Alex) weren’t allowed to veto any of his ideas. Luke had warned Julie that that would be a mistake, but the giddiness that radiated off of Reggie when she had told him he could have free reign was worth it. She just hadn’t thought that he would actually take it to heart and run with it.

Sure, they had chosen You’re Still the One by Shania Twain as their first dance song, and sure it was more or less a country song, but she didn’t really imagine that she’d be staring at her adoptive brother, Carlos and her Dad wearing cowboy hats and boots at her wedding. They had somehow managed to ditch their Flynn-approved suit jackets and were sporting a taupe-coloured suede-textured vest over their dress shirts. If she looked closely, she could see that they had somehow also found some gaudy looking bolo ties with a matching set of ornamental clasps to wear. When she envisioned her wedding, she really didn’t expect that her first (public) dance as a married couple would be a full-on Western themed occasion. The only exception was Alex, who had settled on his cajon in the back, still in his pink suit, eyes rolling when she met his gaze. But even she knew how there was no real annoyance in the blonde’s reaction or else he wouldn’t also be wearing one of the tacky ties around his neck as well.

“I’m gonna seriously kill him.” She hears Luke grumble under his breath, only low enough for her to hear. But she’s still too busy giggling to actually be mad, and she knows that Luke isn’t really going to kill Reggie. At least she doesn’t think so.

Excerpt 3 (Luke POV): Idk man. My mind went “What about Luke?” and I said “You’re right!! What about him?!?”

He doesn’t realize that he’s just been silently staring at the woman in front of him, until a gentle voice breaks him out of his thoughts. “Why are you looking at me like that?” Julie’s peering at him from under her eyelashes, a curious look on her face.

“You just-” he gives a little shake of his head, trying to come up with the right words. He wants to tell her she’s beautiful. Stunning. A wicked beauty. But she’s more than that - she’s almost angelic. “I can’t believe you’re my wife.”

“Luke, we’ve been legally married for like, a whole year.” Her lips are quirked up in a grin, amusement in her voice. “You’ve only just realized that now?”

“That’s different.”

“Yeah? Different how?”

This feels a little strange to post and a little like my inner self seeking validation but let’s not talk about that.

Kskssj anyways present me @ future me: finish one of these because writing has been really cathartic for you and you didn’t think it would bring you so much joy!!!

#gotta tag this so that it doesnt ever show up in any tags on tumblr.#i like that what got me to post about my writing was a fanworks appreciation week. but i will say that a couple weeks ago when i was feeling #extra good about my writing. i made a promise to myself to post smthg for the 6 mth mark of jatp and that kinda got backtracked because of #my requirements to be an adult and my general insecurities about putting out content that is mine for the works to judge sjsjsj #so this is me making it up to myself by sharing some things.#thank you rosie for indulging me in my ramblings. you’ve really given me confidence in my work even tho you’ve never read anything of mine.#just know I APPRECIATE YOU A LOT!!!!#i hope you dont mind that i tagged you!!!#anyways this is gonna get thrown into my queue for wednesday and whenever it posts is whenever it will post.#i also typed this on my phone (i DO NOT RECOMMEND IT) so sorry if the formatting is janky. i didnt wanna give myself time to second guess #myself and end up not posting it. sjjs #jatp fanworks appreciation week #sometimes i write #personal #<- need to come up with tags for myself welp #sunset queue

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broken-clover · 6 years ago

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ACC Day 25- Freebie (Scents)

I cannot blame anyone but myself for my own lateness. Still, this was fun!

This one’s kinda weird because I just wanted to do an AU where everything was sorta okay. Ragna, Noel, and Jin are trying to reconcile, nobody’s dying, and Jin’s getting the mental help he needs. It’s self indulgent as hell and I am not even going to try and justify it.

Using Noel today! Which might be odd, since I realize I forgot to put her on my headcanons list in the first place? Which was very silly of me.

Graduation day had finally come to a close, and Noel gladly retreated to her dorms to escape the hustle and bustle. Of course it was a special day, for her and for all of her friends, but after a full day of talking and socializing, Noel was long passed being burned out, and she needed time to let herself cool down and just be by herself.

The dorm was half-dismantled when she returned. She, Tsubaki, and Makoto all had a lot of packing to do before they moved out, and the ship to Kagutsuchi was heading out first thing in the morning, so none of them had very much time left to put away everything.

It was going to be strange to be stationed out somewhere else. Torifune had been her home for such a long time now, and Noel wasn’t really sure if she was ready for so many changes all at once. At least both of her partners had been stationed in the same place. It was relieving to think that she’d still have that bit of familiarity, and since they’d all decided to share an apartment together, Noel would always be able to see them at the end of the day.

She could still feel Bolverk’s pull on her thoughts, keeping her emotions in line and helping her stay relatively composed. She left her guns on the desk and sprawled out on her bed, pressing her face into the pillows and letting out a deep sigh.

Noel was exhausted.

When she found the energy to move, she rolled onto her side and grabbed a teddy bear that was slumped against her sheets. The soft fur was comforting to the touch, and as she wrapped her arms around the toy, the smell of mint and lavender filled her nose. It was a gift from Tsubaki, in an attempt to help her girlfriend with her anxiety. In addition to the soothing smells, it was also weighted, which helped Noel ground herself and have something to focus on when she was nearing a panic attack.

Scents were nice. Noel liked using them to remind her of places. The smells that soothed her now always made her think of Tsubaki. Every time she was upset and clung onto her bear, it reminded her of one of her favorite people in the world.

”Whenever you feel upset, just focus on that, alright? Just take deep breaths. You’re going to be just fine. I’ll help you the best I can.”

Maybe that would be a good place to start on packing. She grabbed a small box off of the floor and gently placed the stuffed animal in it. After taking one last whiff of mint and lavender, Noel moved over to grab another toy that tended to stay on her bed.

It was a stuffed squirrel, another gift, handmade by Makoto. The seams were a little wonky, and it tended to flop over from the lack of stuffing to support it, but the material was nice to the touch, and the sachet sewn inside of it released the smell of walnuts. After hearing about how worried Noel tended to get when she was away for long periods of time, Makoto had made the plushie as something to keep her company while she was away. Now the scent of walnuts always made her think of her girlfriend’s bright smile, boundless confidence, and kindness.

“So you’ll always have someone looking after you, okay, Noellie?”

She tucked the squirrel away beside her teddy bear.

Recalling a sudden memory, Noel pulled open the drawer on her nightstand. A little red backpack clip was nestled in between forgotten hair-ties and other little accessories. It looked and smelled like watermelon, though the scent was just slightly faded. She’d won it at a festival game alongside the rest of Team Remix Heart. It was little more than a consolation prize, but she kept it for the sentiment of spending time with her friends.

”C’mon, Noellie, you’ve got this!”

“You’re going to stress her out, Makoto, calm down.”

“Don’t be such a buzzkill, Kajun, it’s a festival!”

“Not you too, Mai! Honestly…”

She wasn’t sure how often she was going to see any of them now. Kajun had gone back to Sector Seven, and Mai had left the academy early, without any sort of mention of where she was headed or why.

Before her emotions could well up, Noel put it away and moved on.

The one she pulled off of the dresser was the most recent, only unwrapped yesterday. It was a special present from her beloved big brother, a big chubby bunny doll that smelled like vanilla. Ranga had traveled out so he could see her graduate, and he’d passed over a shiny wrapped package that he’d claimed was supposed to be a housewarming gift for their new quarters once all three of them moved out. They weren’t sure how often they’d be able to see each other, but Ragna promised to keep in touch even if they were both busy. He’d given her a rare genuine smile, and a tight hug.

”I’m really proud of you, kiddo. You know that, right?”

Noel gave it a hug of her own, felt the smile come back to her face, and put the rabbit in the box.

With the memory of Ragna still vivid, she pushed aside her slaved-over study papers until she found a little pink blob lying on her desk. She hadn’t ever actually played a Kirby game before, but she could still admire how absolutely adorable the creature was, especially in the form of a strawberry-scented squishy.

She was pretty sure Jin hadn’t, either, but that hadn’t been the important part. It was meant to be an object of reconciliation, a small token given alongside one of the first conversations Noel had found herself in with him in over two years.

They’d always been estranged, but aside from knowing that the impressive major Kisaragi had let his position, he might as well have vanished off of the face of the planet. Noel wasn’t sure if she was worried or secretly relieved, but after being sent a sent an odd letter from Yamatsumi in his handwriting, she’d arrived to find that he’d checked himself into a psychological facility almost a year ago, trying to address his issues instead of masking them with brusqueness and anger. She wasn’t sure what she had been expecting. There was a definite softness to him that there hadn’t been before, but Jin was quick to mention that even after he planned to live independently again, he was still going to be taking regular therapy sessions. He wasn’t suddenly perfect, but Noel could tell that he had been trying incredibly hard.

When the nurse arrived to let them know that visiting hours were almost over, Jin had passed her the little figure, and given her hand a light squeeze.

“I want to get better, Noel. I’m going to make myself better. For all three of us.”

As much bad blood as they’d seemed to have, Noel really did want them to be a family again. As soon as she could, she wanted to visit him again.

The last toy she grabbed was distinct in not only being the oldest, but also the only one to have no intentional smell to it. It was a little doll, modeled after the Torifune Pandas that lived around the city. Edgar and Claire had given it to her shorty after her adoption, as a sign of their love and acceptance of her. It matched the tiny size of the real pandas, small enough that Noel could put it in her uniform pocket and gently pet it whenever she needed something to calm herself down. While it was supposed to be just a simple toy, it had managed to cling onto the lingering scents of home- the furniture cleaner her mother liked to use, with just a bit of her dad’s cologne. It was weird now, to stay in contact with her birth siblings and her adopted family at the same time, but they had loved her unconditionally, and in Noel’s mind, they were just as much her parents as anyone could be.

The little box was almost full. Noel held it close, taking in all the scents all at once, flooding her mind with memories of all the people she loved. Once she was sure she’d had enough, she folded the cardboard ears down and reached for the packing tape.

Maybe moving wouldn’t be so bad after all. Hopefully her new home would bring more special memories for Noel to cherish.

#autistic creative challenge #writing #Blazblue #Noel Vermillion #Makoto Nanaya #tsubaki yayoi #Academy Trio #Ragna the Bloodedge #Jin Kisaragi

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stylinsonlibrary · 7 years ago

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SPIES & AGENTS FIC REC: fics where Harry, Louis, or both are a spy or agent of some sort.

Mr. & Mr. Tomlinson (6k)

Louis and Harry are married assassins/agents and they try to work it all out.

Into the Badlands (12k)

“007, need I remind you that this was meant to be a covert operation?” he snapped through the mic. He waved away one of his minions when he was approached, unwilling to suffer any sort of attention deficit that could possibly result in the near annihilation of a very small country by one of his very, very stupid double-oh agents.

“Q, you wound me,” came the cheery voice over the speakers, gunshots sounding in the background. “Of course I listen when you tell me what my missions are.”

“Covert, 007, covert. Shall I bring you a dictionary so that you may look up the definition of the bloody word covert?!” he nearly shrieked as another explosion rocked through monitor.

007 giggled. “You sound angry; have you been doing those relaxation exercises I showed you last time? They’ll do wonders for your elevated stress levels.”

Or Louis is Q. Harry is a double-oh agent who thinks that making knock-knock jokes around foreign embassy delegates mid-mission is a good idea.

Of Course, Mr. Styles (12k)

Harry's new babysitter is unlike the four before him.

Louis Tomlinson with the blue eyes takes Harry's shirts without asking, buys enough boxes of cereal to feed a battalion, calls him a beetle in arguments, forces Harry to watch Grease the Musical with him, and wants Oliver to drink more milk just to see him be the tallest in class

Harry feels guilty about asking for more. He doesn't know how to tell Louis to play blanket fort with him and Olly instead of staying out.

Uncovered (13k)

And if Harry lingered a little longer on those pictures, it was because he was a professional and he wanted to make sure the lighting was perfect. And if he stared at them until he had memorized every detail of the boy’s face from his sharp cheekbones to his fluffy hair and cute nose, he was just being thorough.

Louis has a rich dad who is the subject of Harry's first case at the MI6.

Shoot First, Fall in Love Later (14k)

“I’m gunna go wash this blood off me.” Harry declares before getting up and heading into the en-suite.

“Does he scare any of you?” Niall asks with a faux shiver.

“Adorable yet deadly,” Zayn laments before smiling at Niall, “J'adore ça.”

Niall snorts and Louis really wishes he knew French.

Or The one where Louis is a dick with feelings, Harry is sweet but secretly a bad ass, Niall loves everything to a point, Liam is a computer nerd, and Zayn speaks french when he's emotional.

How Many Secrets Can You Keep? (19k)

Being a spy meant always keeping your emotions in check. It looked and sounded good in theory, but in practice things like soulmates and trusted bonds of friendship got in the way. The real key to being a spy was keeping your emotions a secret.

Or: Harry and Louis are partners and agents for MI6, but their worlds are torn apart when Harry goes rogue.

You're the Bond to My Q (19k)

It was just another routine mission for "The Ghost." It should have been an easy one. No one was expecting it to go wrong.

No one imagined the after effects either.

Too good to be bad (24k)

“You’ll never guess who’s here,” Louis rushes out, knowing very well that this is not how it’s supposed to go.

“Louis, we should focus on the mission.”

“I know, but it’s Harry, Li.”

Liam falters for a second. “Training camp, sexual awakening Harry?”

Or: Two spies, one mission, zero things left in common between them.

Criminal Minds AU (series; 26k; 2 works)

Running in the Shadows (26k)

“Zayn was right,” Liam says. “Someone is searching for his asset, and they’ve got about a month’s head start on us.”

“And I assume this is where I come in?” Louis asks wryly.

“We don’t have a lot of information – Zayn did a very thorough job protecting him – but we think there are three strong contenders: a photographer, a baker, and a yoga instructor.”

“Seriously? Do we even know this bloke’s real name?”

Liam shoots Louis a small grin and shrugs. “Yeah, actually. The man you’re looking for? His name is Harry Styles.”

Louis is an MI6 agent, and Harry is...difficult to find.

Bullets In Our Hearts (27k)

Louis had always dreamed of working as an agent for the CIA and after going through training he had thought his dreams were coming true. Unfortunately, that’s not how it works. He’s stuck behind a desk, looking at computer screens, and giving directions to Harry Styles, a handsome field agent. When a mission goes bad and the CIA needs someone to send in that isn’t recognizable, Louis volunteers, ready to make his debut as a field agent. Suddenly he’s fighting bad guys and gaining the trust of the very person he’s not supposed to make contact with. And in the midst of it all, he’ll be shocked to the core by two double agents he’s more than familiar with, one of which he might just be in love with.

The Things You Hide (27k)

Louis has been an MI6 agent for four years. Now he wants out. Unfortunately, his superiors have other ideas. Their solution: a 'mission' in the Greek Islands, one that's more vacation than actual work.

Harry is an avid photographer who shows him around the area. He's open and carefree and everything that Louis wishes he could be.

Along the way they fall in love, and maybe Louis learns a little about love, a little about lies, and a whole lot the meaning of home.

we've got to get away from here (23k)

“It is my understanding that you are the most comprehensive member of this agency in the field of extraterrestrial life, is that right?” the agent asks. He’s trying to sound calm, but Louis can tell he’s shaken as well.

“Um, I guess so,” Louis says, glancing over at the man in the blanket again.

Suddenly, Louis’s blood runs cold. There’s something off about the man, something in his gaze, something Louis can’t put his finger on. It’s terribly unsettling, but excitement bubbles in his gut.

Or, Louis is an FBI agent who likes to think himself a paranormal expert, and Harry is the alien that somehow ended up in his office.

Calling An Audible (series; 36k; 2 works)

A self-indulgent spy AU in two parts.

my heart, in deadly rhythm (42k)

There exists somewhere a very, very small list containing the names of people who don’t want Louis Tomlinson dead. Harry Styles may or may not be one of those people.

(or a Spies!AU in which Liam is the Wade to Louis' Kim Possible, Zayn seduces people for intel, Niall is an expert at blowing things up, and Harry is more than a bit famous in his particular field... or infamous, actually. And Louis? Well, Louis just wishes people would quit trying so bloody hard to kill him all the time.)

I'll Throw Away My Faith (Just To Keep You Safe) (42k)

AU. Harry Styles is an MI6 agent on a mission to find out who’s planning on killing the Prime Minister. Louis Tomlinson is a wanted professional assassin, hired by the MI6 to kill whoever wants to kill the Prime Minister. Louis doesn’t do relationships but he does Harry. Featuring Niall as their handler, Liam as Harry’s boss and Zayn as his sidekick.

Where You Go, I Go (43k)

“Agent Cowell yelled, ‘Remember, lads this is a sacred relationship. Spies and their handlers must be closer than most spouses to survive.’ Which, like, that would be okay, except Harry was staring directly at the boy he fucked in the toilets at the club the night before.”

In which Harry and Louis are secret agent partners who probably shouldn’t fall in love.

The title’s a line from Skyfall, by Adele. The story, otherwise, has very little to do with Bond.

I Walk the Line (55k)

Professor Louis Tomlinson is the leading researcher in his field. Harry Styles is Louis’ recently hired grad assistant. Sparks fly between them but something doesn’t add up when it comes to Harry, and Louis is determined to find out what.

What happens when everything Louis thought he knew comes crashing down around him? Is he doomed to repeat his past mistakes? Or will he learn to follow his heart and find a way to forge his own path, alongside someone he’s not sure he can trust, but who might just be the best thing to ever happen to him.

never gonna dance again (55k)

Harry is quiet for a moment and his fingers feel like they’re burning past the fabric of Louis’ jumper, branding his skin. “Can I kiss you?"

This is where Louis should walk away and leave Harry to pirouette and cambré by himself in the faint moonlight shining through the windows. He is a spy and Harry is a dancer. There are lines that should not be crossed.

Louis surges forward.

Louis is a spy and Harry is a dancer. The only real thing they know is each other.

Psychic / FBI (series; 57k; 2 works)

Louis is psychic and gets caught in the middle of a murder investigation led by FBI Special Agent Harry Styles.

somethin’ bout you (59k)

Of all the government agents in the world, Louis had to go and land the most charming one.

like real people do (64k)

Louis didn’t ask for a lot of things. He didn’t ask for his entire family to die in a car crash that may or may not have been his fault. He didn’t ask to get powers out of that accident, either, powers that eventually led him into a two-year relationship with a man who was far more than met the eye. But one night, he chose to ask for a replacement to a broken camera from someone he hadn’t spoken to in a year and a half. He did ask for that. And that kind of led to everything else.

Or, the sort-of Jessica Jones AU in which the dead stay where they belong, featuring Zayn as the high-powered lawyer with a hopeless crush on his assistant Liam, Niall as the constantly stoned but strangely insightful neighbor, Harry as Manhattan’s media darling, and Louis as the never-was hero who’s just trying to pick up the pieces.

Wanted Most (156k)

Louis Tomlinson is a thief, and a damn good one at that. Most have heard of him. Most don't understand him. And Harry Styles is the FBI agent who can never seem to catch him.

When Worlds Collide and Days are Dark (157k)

It's Harry's job to investigate and stop any threats to National and International security as MI6's top operative, which in this case, might just be Louis, over glorified Personal Assistant / Ministerial Diary Secretary to the Prime Minister, no matter how blue his eyes are or what his tight pants might do to Harry. With Harry as James Bond, Louis as his Bond Girl, Liam as M, Niall as Moneypenny, and Zayn as Q.

#larry stylinson #larry stylinson fic rec #larry fic rec #stylinsonlibrary #masterpost #crime #thriller #agent #spy

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thinkingoutlouddblog · 7 years ago

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2 - Harry Fic Recommendation

In honour of reaching one thousand followers, I thought I would do another one of these posts and give up some love to some blogs and fics I believe really deserve it. But I just want to say thank you so much to everyone who has followed me, I love and appreciate you all so much.

my first recommendation post

There is no doubt that I have missed innumerable fics in this post but if you have a fic you believe I would love or deserves more love, always feel free to send it to me!

Once again, I’ll put the blog first, then some of their fics I love in particular with brief descriptions. Some of the fics don’t have titles, so the description is the link.

@cupidsstyles

Little Lion Series - I seriously adore this series about Harry being a single dad who falls in love with the reader.

The Princess and the Pauper - You’re a princess who travels into the city, you see your people struggling and you also meet Harry, a tailor who you feel a strong connection with.

@roseonhissleeve

Tea Mugs and Tear Stains - the one where it all gets a little too much

A White T-Shirt - the one where you take a leap of faith. TW: mentions self-harm.

my love, my life, my always - the one where you’re feeling a little insecure.

Healing - the one where you find strength in each other.TW; infertility

@hstylesloner

Worries in Airports

Newborn Baby Meets Family

@revolutionaryharry

They Can’t Hurt You Anymore

Just read her masterlist come on

@allthelittlelove

“Let’s go to bed.”

Without You For the First Time - you broke up but Harry wants you back

Four Walls - this is the start of a series that I’m really looking forward to about growing up with Harry and being crushed by him growing apart from you

@mcflurryharry

Eight Months: part one // two // three // four - this! series! is! amazing! Honestly, I don’t even know how to properly describe it in a way that properly conveys how amazing it is without spoiling anything. Point is, you need to read it right now.

I’m just going to advise you spend a few solid hours reading everything this blog has to offer.

@littledreamybeth

Dear Mummy - a fic where Harry is Beau’s father. This fic absolutely broke me. Let it break you too.

@xswimbeforeyoudrownx

Clingy - you overhear Harry talking badly about you at a party

The Charity Ball - you’re a med student, and you feel miserable at a hospital charity ball- until you meet Harry.

@harryimaginedstories

Anger - Y/N loves Harry to pieces, however, not when he switches from being the nicest man to the complete opposite whenever he’s angry.TW: sexual assault

Ambiguous Love - your best friend Harry kisses you when he gets jealous of someone hitting on you, but this creates a miscommunication about his commitment to you

Sick of Losing You - Harry and Y/N lost each other when he found someone else.

Needing Comfort - Harry and Y/N have been fighting for days. On day four, Y/N starts to cry.

Now because this is my thousand follower post and I am a self-indulgent narcissist I’m going to list my favourite fics of my own :)

I Wish - it becomes clear that your relationship with Harry is going to be a long-term thing and he wants to start to become a bigger part of your daughter’s life

Perfect - your best friend Harry saves you from your boyfriend when he gets violent

Infinity - you and Harry get into a fight at Anne’s house

City of Love - you and Harry are mobbed in Paris and Harry is quick to defend you when a journalist gets violent

Lullabies + Dunkirk Skies - soulmate AU where you find the person you’re supposed to spend your life with, just when your life looks like it could end at any moment

Again, thank you all so much! I promise I will be posting more fics soon x

my masterlist // send me a request

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real-fakedoors · 7 years ago

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under leaves so green - CHPT 7 - Miraculous Ladybug

After the Dupain-Cheng family purchases a flower shop around the block from the Agreste mansion, Chat Noir frequents the spot in search of company from the manager-but-not-really Marinette. Beneath the mask, Adrien starts to struggle with how cute she looks in that green apron. (AKA: the not-really flower shop AU where basically everything is the same, but Marinette is extra stressed by her job and Adrien tries to be supportive)

Cross-posted on AO3 and FF.net

Chapter 7: 绣球花 (Hydrangea)

In which Adrien and Marinette spend Mother's Day in very strange ways.

Adrien had grown to enjoy the call of bells, almost always associating the pitchy jingle with happiness. One would ring at the front and back door of Marinette’s shop, come day or night. Another sounded lightly as he prowled the streets as Chat Noir, jostling ever so slightly just below his throat as he leapt from building to building.

And this morning, one greeted him upon entrance to the Dupain-Cheng bakery.

“Welcom - oh! Adrien, hello!” Madam Cheng beamed as he stepped inside, his senses overcome in the most fantastic sort of way.

It was warm within the buzzing bakery, but not hot and sticky like the summer air - this was a comfortable heat, one that reminded him of fuzzy blankets and hot chocolate. The smells were staggering in their own right, the aroma of cookies and fresh bread flowing around him like the sweetest tides of a cotton-candy sea. Adrien could drown in it and never want to come up for air; it was the same smell that always seeped from Marinette’s pores, only more poignant. A chattering pair of women eyed a display case near the window, so he strode past them and returned Madam Cheng’s smile with as much kindness as he could muster.

“Madam Cheng, so nice to see you. And Happy Mother’s Day, of course.” He bowed politely as he reached the register, standing just a bit aside in case anyone came up to make a purchase while he chatted. If it was possible, Madam Cheng smile only widened.

“This is Nathalie, my father’s assistant,” Adrien said through pursed lips, and the woman shook Madam Cheng’s hand.

Of course, Marinette’s mother seem just thrilled. “A pleasure, Nathalie -- and please, Adrien, Sabine is fine.” The tiny woman held up a finger to pause their pleasantries, leaning her head into the back. “Hey! Tom! Adrien is here!”

A pause.

“Be right there!” A familiar, jovial voice answered, and Adrien felt himself pink slightly. He tended to almost forget how overwhelmingly kind the Dupain-Chengs were until he was in their company, but then, their daughter was practically the dictionary definition of perfection. He shouldn’t be surprised.

“So, how can I help you this morning?” Sabine looked between the two, and Nathalie only responded with a strained smile. It took an impressive amount of self-control for Adrien not to laugh at the woman’s dismay, clearly unsure of what to make of Madam Cheng’s bubbly attitude.

“Well…” Adrien fumbled with his fingers. “I actually came by to see if Marinette was available. I wanted to talk to her, but my phone is, uh,” his gaze flickered over the tight-lipped woman beside him. “Unavailable at the moment.”

Sabine frowned. “Oh, I’m so sorry, but Marinette’s not home. She left early this morning on an errand.”

Adrien had only enough time for his eye to twitch before a small bear emerged from the back in the shape of Marinette’s father.

“Adrien! How are you, son?” Tom Dupain walked right around the counter and hugged Adrien fiercely, crushing his bones and giving his torso a light dusting of flour in the process. Nathalie looked like a fish out of water, both literally and figuratively, and appeared about ready to pry the man away from him.

The blond was all smiles, though, and gave Marinette’s father a firm pat-pat. “Hello, Monsieur Dupain, how are you?”

“Just great - business is, ah, hold on. Come!” He extended an arm and gestured for Nathalie and Adrien to follow him into the back of the bakery. Sabine nodded at them, but kept her focus on the customers who had just approached the counter with sweet selections in mind.

“Sorry, sorry. Just easier to talk without people buying - so good to see you! And who’s this?” Tom smiled kindly down at Nathalie, who cleared her throat.

“Nathalie Sancoeur, thank you. I work for Gabriel Agreste and am escorting Adrien this morning.”

He blinked, likely taken aback by her biting tone, but there was no dampening the man’s mood.

“Well, welcome to the Dupain-Cheng Boulangerie Patisserie! Don’t mind our mess; when you work with flour and dirt, it’s something you learn to live with.”

“I… see. Thank you.” Nathalie eyed their surroundings, quickly understanding the man’s meaning. The place was indeed a mess, all sorts of ingredients strewn around the work stations, a half-dozen aprons hanging on hooks, and piles and piles of open books littered with numbers and figures.

Monsieur Dupain set himself to task while making pleasant conversation, and Adrien thought his behavior seemed very much like Marinette at that moment. “So, did I hear you say you were here for Marinette?”

Sheepishly, Adrien scratched his cheek. “I - yes. But Madam Cheng said she’s not home?”

The man nodded severely, rolling out a mysterious dough that smelled like heaven. “Yes, it feels like our girl’s never home anymore. Did you want to leave a message of some sort? We can always give it to her when she comes back after work.”

Before he could answer, Marinette’s mother appeared beside Nathalie, and the leaner of the two women flinched.

Adrien had to snicker quietly at that. It was upon Nathalie’s own insistence that he was not to enter the bakery unattended, so he was going to enjoy watching her squirm, at least a little.

“Yes, and I’m afraid she didn’t say where she was going, probably just had to facilitate some deliveries or something,” Sabine sighed and wiped her hands on her apron, which caught his attention.

“Oh, your apron! It’s lovely.” He pointed, elated by his recognition.

She looked down momentarily and the smile that spread on her features reached her eyes.

“Oh, yes, speaking of Marinette,” she sighed contently and rubbed the embroidered D/C proudly. “This was a gift she made me for Mother’s Day. I didn’t expect her to get me anything; I don’t even know how she found the time.”

Adrien did not respond, but he nodded his agreement. Marinette had been deadbeat exhausted yesterday, but he wasn’t about to say that to her parents or Nathalie.

Oh, yes Madam Cheng, I know. I snuck into your daughter’s room last night while she finished making that apron. There was about a million reasons why that was a bad idea, and at least half of those reasons would have made him blush to think about.

Adrien coughed. “Well, I am sorry I missed her… Maybe I will just try again tomorrow, or swing by the shop later.” He didn’t even need to look her way to feel the look Nathalie was giving him. Such a detour was not in his schedule and therefore was not going to be allowed, but Adrien didn’t want to appear suspicious to Marinette’s parents.

“Well, that sounds like a wasted trip son, at least take some pastries back to your Dad.” Monsieur Dupain replied, wiping his cheek carefully with part of his forearm. The dough was taking taking the form of a swirled knot-bread, and Adrien could smell the vanilla and cinnamon from where he was standing. His stomach growled, and by some good graces, not loud enough for anyone to hear.

“Ahh, no, that’s okay,” Adrien rubbed his neck. “My Dad’s not really a… ‘sweets’ kind of guy. But thank you for offering.”

Of course, Madam Cheng wouldn’t hear of it.

“Hmm, well, how about at least something for your troubles? Nathalie, that includes you of course, pick out anything from the display and we’ll package it up for you.”

Adrien blushed, always overcome by their generosity. They hadn’t much, at least compared to his father’s wealth, but that never meant they weren’t eager to share.

“I- I, well,” Nathalie sputtered, uselessly pushing random buttons on her tablet. Clearly she was not used to being treated this way either, and Adrien remembered how flustered he had been the first few times he had come here.

“That would be amazing, thank you,” he accepted for the both of them, and Sabine lead them back out the front. Adrien didn’t want to disrupt Marinette’s father a second time in the middle of working, so he went to give him a friendly pat on the back in farewell. Once again, more bear than man, Monsieur Dupain turned and engulfed Adrien in a hug so tightly he felt short of breath by the time his feet were back to solid ground.

“Take good care Adrien, and thanks for stopping. I’m sure Mari will be sorry she missed you.”

Tom Dupain finished his statement with a not-so-subtle wink. Adrien swallowed a lump in his throat and tried not to burn too furiously while returning to the front of the bakery.

Sabine greeted a new gaggle of customers that entered just as the three of them returned to the front of the store, so Adrien gestured for Nathalie to follow him to the glass display of cakes and breads and cookies.

Once out of earshot, Nathalie shot him a sharp whisper.

“These foods will not comply with your meal schedule, so please say your goodbyes and we’ll go.”

At that, Adrien snorted and had to cover his mouth to keep from laughing. He actually felt a little bad as Nathalie flushed, evidently disquieted by his behavior. She saw this place as one of indulgence - sugar and happiness, free food and plentiful hugs.

How ironic.

Wealth meant Adrien had seen display cases just like these many times, usually filled with pillows of rich velvet that were topped with excess. Diamond jewelry or watches that could fund a year abroad were the “bread and butter” of the upper-class, so expensive taste came with the territory.

Adrien felt the bread and butter prepared by the Dupain-Cheng’s hand to be much more tempting.

Everything was a careful arrangement of love here, and it filled him with a million reminders of Marinette at every turn. Each price tag was hand-written, with chalkboard specials on display. All of the boxes were pink and simple, somehow adorable and refined at the same time. The energy itself was animated, a welcome world, and it required no explanation to surmise that Marinette was a product of this saccharine wonderland.

By comparison, Adrien had felt only lucky enough to window shop before. He didn’t want to browse anymore.

Marinette may have been reared within these candied walls, but Adrien found it hollow without her in them. He longed for laurels of green and Banks’ roses. The absence of dirt felt like the absence of her, resolute and empowering without ever being too much. To him, the bakery had become an echo of her, whereas the shop was filled with Marinette from the dirt to the air to the sun itself. A pastoral daydream, between the green apron and the green house, the shop was the metropolitan wilderness.

A paradox.

It shouldn’t exist in a city like this, and it was too pure for this world.

Yet somehow, he had found her.

Nathalie interrupted his daydreams by clicking her tongue.

“We cannot accept their food without paying. If word gets out, the press might take it to the rumor mill.”

His response was probably more bitter than it had to be, not because of her words but because of the sneer behind them.

“You are worrying too much,” he studied some cocoa truffles absently. “I’ve tried to pay them for years, but they always refuse. Marinette even snuck money back into my wallet once; their obstinacy is borderline unfair.”

Nathalie pursed her lips. “This… Marinette that you came to see. She’s been through your wallet?”

Sometimes he forgot how protective Nathalie and his father were, to a painful degree. Still, the insinuation that came with Nathalie’s worry he found to be in poor taste.

He kept his tone matter-of-fact. “Yes. I’d trust her with anything, my wallet included.”

The dark-haired woman narrowed her eyes and looked ready to say something else, but Sabine completed her recent customers and appeared across the glass case.

“Have you settled on anything? I already grabbed some of that cheese bread you always ask for, Adrien, but please, pick out at least a few more things.” Marinette’s mother jostled a bag lightly over the counter, and Adrien thanked her. In his shirt pocket, a very exciting twitching began at the call of cheese.

After some back and forth, Adrien made up Nathalie’s mind and kindly accepted two pieces of cheese bread, a sweet smelling strawberry tart for himself and a few macron’s for his father’s assistant. It took more effort than it should have to accept, what with Nathalie’s constant disapproval, but he had gone through the motions with the Dupain-Cheng’s enough time to know they were impossible to argue with.

By the time he said farewell, two hugs later and a whole heart fuller, Adrien settled into the backseat of the car and sighed comfortably. He almost could have forgotten he had come to see Marinette and utterly failed to do so. Almost.

Nathalie directed them home, dubiously accepting a macron when offered, and Adrien even tried to see if his ever-silent bodyguard would accept one. There was no verbal response, but the man did hold out his hand when Adrien reached towards the front of the sedan.

“So, is Marinette someone we should…?” Nathalie began as they were neared the mansion, and Adrien cleared his throat.

“Nope, that’s -- nope.”

The woman sighed pointedly, but did not ask any further questions. They both knew better than to bother his father with petty matters like high school crushes, so Adrien at least could confidently say Nathalie would not to bring up the subject again.

He bound up the stairs once they arrived home, shutting the door to his room behind him. A greedy-eyed kwami greeted him swiftly.

“Pay up, kid, I wants me some of that bread.” Plagg almost cackled as Adrien unfurreled the bag and set it at his desk, listening to the strange gorging sounds of a kwami bodily assaulting unsuspecting pastries.

Adrien was already pacing, running a frustrated hand through his hair.

“What a waste of a morning.” He stopped at the window, pressing an arm against the cool metal beams and resting his forehead there. “I don’t think I can wait until tonight to see her, and not as Chat Noir. I need to see her as me this time.”

“You know,” Plagg called from the bag, clearly speaking with his mouth full.

“You sure are going way out of your way to see this girl. You’re sure you just want to be friends?”

Adrien rolled his eyes. “Just, shut up, Plagg.”

“If your poor heart can’t wait, we could sneak out again. You know, stop by the flower shop, go and see your lovely lady,” the kwami mused in a sing-song voice.

Adrien didn’t answer. It’s not like he could deny it anymore.

From the night she gifted him the Russian Snowdrops petals, he probably should have realized it then. The comfortable way she deposited the sentiment, more than just the flowers, into his hand and the sincerity of her soft blue eyes within their private twilight was something from a movie.

That night had been a wickering candle that had burned just bright enough and just long enough for him to fall smitten.

If not then, Nino’s not-so-subtle talk should have forced him to acceptance. His friend had called him out like a judge during a fencing match, making Adrien confront some imaginary coin flip that he didn’t believe could be real.

But how far back did his denial go? The shy glances, sweet blushes, thoughtful gestures and innocuous little fleeting moments they had shared through the years. He couldn’t tell if his stomach had always twisted in excitement when it happened and he had just tried to bury the instinct, not wanting to freak her out, to the point where he himself believed it wasn’t there. Adrien tried to remember, but then, none of that mattered anymore.

What mattered now was that Adrien was absolutely, hopelessly in love with her.

Of course he was.

Marinette’s smile was everything. When she laughed, he felt like the most fortunate person in the world to hear the sound - and that’s not even to say how he felt when he was the one to make her erupt into giggles. Sometimes, if surprised, she would squeak, and it was adorable. She was beautiful - lean, strong, soft features and lips that looked so kissable he wanted to tear his hair out just thinking about it. If he hadn’t come to her home with the mask last night, he might not have been able to stop himself from kissing more than just her forehead.

His legs guided him to his bed, laying down and staring at the ceiling. Marinette was everywhere in his world, and so suddenly, too. It was like the most pleasant vertigo imaginable. The dark ceilings looked like her hair, soft and rich tresses of ebony. The sinking sound of his head hitting the pillow was her sigh, and the rustling of Plagg at his desk was the fluttering of her lashes. Most devastating was the sky, though, miles of her eyes for him to get lost in.

Marinette was everywhere, but even so, she wasn’t here.

Plagg belched and flew over to him, looking upon his charge with a smug grin.

“You’ve got it bad, you know that, don’t you?”

Adrien didn’t respond, but his face surely said enough. Plagg nodded.

“Well, if it means anything, I -- ”

The kwami stopped and his brow dipped, catching Adrien’s attention. A moment later, there was a crisp knocking on the door, and they met eyes before Plagg flew away to hide.

“Yes,” Adrien groaned as he sat back up, walking towards the door. “What is it, Natha-- ?”

“Adrien.” His father greeted with a nod, and the blond went slack jawed.

“D-Dad, hi, what are you…?” Adrien cleared his throat and paused when his father motioned for him to stop, raising a hand.

“Why don’t you come to my office for a moment?” He asked, though he spun on his heel before Adrien could answer. Stumbling after him, he hoped Plagg had enough sense to stay put, just in case, and followed his father down the stairs.

Each step felt like a march towards some sort of purgatory. Had he done something wrong? He couldn’t remember the last time his father called him to his office and they had a pleasant conversation. All they seemed to talk about anymore was Adrien’s future, and they both had very different visions in mind for what that looked like.

Adrien kept his irritations under lock-and-key. He was resigned to wait for his father’s invitation to speak.

It wasn’t until he shut the door that the conversation began, and Adrien wondered which one of them had lost their minds. It had to be one of them, because his Dad didn’t just say that, or he himself was dissociating and misheard him.

“Are you in a relationship with Marinette Dupain-Cheng?”

It was the proverbial record scratch of the past week. Flowers and blue eyes, slamming doors and text messages, late night stargazing and bitter coffee all rushed to greet him in a visceral sensory experience. A whole week’s worth of memories pumped through his veins, sending his heart into a tailspin of nerves and worries and fears but, more than all of that, Adrien was blindsided by so much sudden happiness that it a miracle he managed to stay on his own two feet.

He didn’t really have words, so he managed a croak.

“Huh?”

His father pursed his lips, hands behind his back as he gestured for Adrien to sit in the pit around the runway. Apparently, he managed to comply with his Dad’s request, though he had no memory of even sitting down.

A few hours earlier

“I can do this.” Marinette fanned her face with a hand, as if it would help. It wasn’t particularly hot today, in fact, it was cloudy and pleasantly mild for a morning in the summer, but that wasn’t the cause of her clammy complexion.

No, this was the kind of crippling nervousness that would knock anyone off their feet in her situation, and Marinette wasn’t exactly known for her superior coordination.

“I can... do this.”

Spilling your guts out to your crush of three years was never easy.

Doing it on Mother’s Day seemed like an awful mistake, given his mother’s mysterious disappearance.

Coming to his house unannounced, early in the morning, with pastries and a tiny potted plant?

“I can’t do this.”

Every neuron in her brain was firing off at once, screaming at her legs run away, but she was trying not to listen. Her heart was hammering, working overdrive to make up for the disagreement between her body and mind, and she was stuck.

Hiding.

Tikki jostled her purse, knocking into her hip slightly - it was a sort of silent code they had established, for Marinette to check their surroundings for curious eyes before opening the clasp.

With fumbling fingers, she managed to get the thing damned open and her kwami’s large round eyes were sympathetic.

“Don’t say that, Marinette! You can do it - you can do anything. I believe in you.”

“I-I know, Tikki,” she stammered, and the kwami’s red face frowned. “I just, heh, you know, we said ‘set small goals’? That was the agreement… I feel like… this is a little much…?”

“No,” her kwami shook her head. “It’ll be perfect, I promise. Do you trust me?”

“Of course I do!” Marinette’s response was immediate, and she felt her pulse relax just slightly. “I just… no, no, you’re right. I can do this.”

“You can do this,” Tikki parroted and nodded, closing the purse herself so Marinette couldn’t talk herself down.

“Thanks, Tikki,” the girl whispered before brushing herself off unnecessarily.

With a pit - no, a crater - in her stomach, Marinette slipped around the corner and stiffly walked up to the front gate. She spotted a familiar, almost angry-looking red button on an inlaid control panel, and gulped.

The first time she rang the Agreste doorbell, when Nino had been akumatized years ago, a little camera came out and appraised her. Just in case, Marinette fixed her bangs and patted out her pigtails, hoping her make-up covered most of the bags circling her eyes. Her choice of outfit was… acceptable. It was just her work uniform. The whole pretense of coming before work on a Sunday was so she had a designated time to leave in case things became awkward, and Marientte wanted to have an escape plan; she preferred to plan for the worst-case scenario, so anything better than that exceeded her expectations.

Long inhale.

Marinette pushed the button, feeling the weight of the world compress the shiny plastic covering against her forefinger.

No going back now.

Long exhale.

She stood for almost a minute, fidgeting more and more and thought about pressing again (or, better yet, about just running the other direction) when a voice finally answered, accompanied by a camera’s judgmental eye.

“Yes?”

It was male, but it wasn’t Adrien.

Oh for fondants sake…

Her mouth was horribly dry and she licked her lips - surely, that had to have looked great on camera.

“M-Monsieur Agreste! I apologize, I’m… um… a friend of Adrien’s. I was wondering if he was… home?”

There was a long silence, and once again, Marinette considered fleeing the scene.

A hard voice swept away whatever nerve she had gathered. “What’s your name?”

“I-I… I-I’m Ma-Marinette. Marinette Dupain-Cheng. A-Adrien’s, um, he’s in my class.” She swallowed, and Tikki jostled lightly against her hip. The reminder of her kwami gave her some confidence, however small, so she added, “I designed… a hat for your contest a few… years ago?”

Marinette tightened her grip on the reusable paper bag she had in her right hand in an effort to stop her nervous shaking, and, to her genuine surprise, it actually helped.

“Hmm,” Monseiur Agreste sounded thoughtful, and Marinette tried to smile at the camera as kindly-and-not-dorkily as possible.

“You may enter.”

The electric blue eye of the camera retracted back into the wall, and there was a brief buzzing as the lock on the gate fell. She could hear Tikki lightly chime at her hip.

“You’re doing great, Marinette! Just keep it up!”

“Phew,” she breathed a sigh of relief and nodded, even if Tikki couldn’t see it. “Thanks. Wish me luck.”

Her usual stride was definitely clipped of it’s usual personality, much more rigid as the door loomed ever closer. She had only been here a few times, and this was the first time she’s ever come totally alone - the entrance seemed so massive up close.

A tiny voice dubbed Rationality in her mind noted that it was probably unusual for Gabriel Agreste to answer his own doorbell, but then, that tittering was snuffed out rather quickly by the hundred of others voices - Worry, Anxiety, Fear, and Uneasy, for example, were composing an epic interlude against the raging metronome provided by her heart.

Marinette, as conductor for this impromptu orchestra, only found it fitting that the crescendo built with the stacco thump of her knocking fist against the heavy barrier that kept her out.

Much faster than she expected, the door was opening, and stood before her was the ever-immaculate Gabriel Agreste. Sometimes, she was so wrapped up in Adrien that Marinette all but forgot her idolization of the man before her.

He was a fashion legend, and even his home attire showed for it - his hair was swiped back, out of his face. On his person, he wore a crisp white suit jacket with red pants that were tailored to perfection, accented by a red-white ascot.

Marinette bowed, feeling humbled and tragically underdressed.

Staring at her feet instead of at his piercing eyes, she found enough of her manners scattered on the immaculate foyer tiles to muster a greeting.

“Monsieur Agreste, it’s an honor to meet you in person. I’m… Adrien’s friend, but it’s also such an honor. I’m a huge fan of your work!”

She would never bet anything on it, but she could have sworn it almost sounded like, ever so lightly that he… laughed?

“Come in, Mme. Dupain-Cheng,” he stepped aside and Marinette meekly scuttered in, feeling more a mouse in a giant labyrinthine of architectural splendor.

Naturally, she drank in as much as she could as fast as she could - huge ceilings, a refreshing clean smell, marble pillars and a central staircase like one she pictured in Cinderella. It was spacious and monochromatic, and Marinette could only admire the careful attention to the building with each slope or facade.

“I’m ashamed to admit I only vaguely recall our first meeting, Mme. Dupain-Cheng.” Monsieur Agreste began, hands behind his back. His posture was impeccable, and Marinette quickly tried to fix her slouch.

“But I do remember the bowler you created; it was a rather impressive piece, especially for someone your age. So forgive me if I’m a bit... unsure to the nature of your visit.”

Marinette bit her lip - she knew from Adrien’s occasional mention that his father was harsh, but she could certainly tell where her friend got his lessons in etiquette. So far, Adrien’s father had been entirely intimidating, but surprisingly kind.

He frowned and cocked his head to one side when Marinette didn’t respond, and she nearly squeaked when she realized she was just staring into space.

“O-Oh! Right. I’m very sorry to show up unannounced, and on… a holiday, no less.” She paused to make sure she hadn’t just put her foot in her mouth, but he didn’t seem to mind the mention of today’s date. His wife was gone, but it had been several years so perhaps he had just learned to accept such affairs. “But I… I wanted to see Adrien and thank him for his help the other day. Your son is, um, a very… kind young man.”

Studying her shoes, Marinette quickly found his lack of response to be unbearable, so her gaze flickered his way. Mounseir Agreste had a small, albeit nonplussed, smile on his face, and it looked remarkably similar to Adrien’s.

Maybe she could do this after all.

Feeling a bit emboldened by his agreeable expression, Marinette held the bag out infront of her with the D/C logo printed proudly on the front.

“My parents own the Dupain-Cheng Boulangerie Patisserie - it used to just be called Tom and Sabine’s - by the school, and they recently purchased a flower shop only a few streets over from here. I work there and… I brought some pastries and flowers for Adrien as thanks. I... hope that’s okay?”

Mounseir Agreste studied the bag with a severe expression on his face before bringing a hand to his chin.

“Mme. Dupain-Cheng,” his eyes flickered to her face, and Marinette felt herself blanch slightly. His voice was like a whip, and each word was the crack before the lashing.

“While your gesture is very kind, Adrien is not here at the moment.”

She deflated. Bag lowered back to her side, Marinette felt all of the reassurance she had spent the past several days gathering be swept away with a single sentence. This had been hard enough to do the first time, and now she was doubtful she could ever find the courage to come back here like this.

Still, she couldn’t just stand and sulk in the middle of the Agreste mansion, so she cleared her throat and turned politely towards the door.

“I’m very sorry for intr-- ”

“But he should be back soon,” Adrien’s father interrupted lightly, and her head shot up in his direction. Was he really saying what she thought he was saying…?

Flatly, he confirmed her disbelief with a few easy words.

“If you’d like, you are welcome to stay here until he returns.”

Marinette felt her mouth fall open, and she blinked repeatedly. “A-are you sure? I’d hate to impose!”

He shrugged, and Marinette couldn’t believe how impressively casual he was acting. Surely this couldn’t be the monster Adrien painted him to be?

“I assure you Mme. Dupain-Cheng, it is fine. But Adrien is out with my assistant Nathalie, so would you be willing to wait for their return in my office? I mean no offense, but we prefer company to stay supervised in the house.”

She was practically bouncing now, almost too elated to mind her manners. “Are you kidding? Me, in the Gabriel Agreste office? Where you create your designs?! I would - I can’t -- ummmm,” she exhaled low and tried to calm herself, and to her relief, Mounseir Agreste didn’t seem to mind her fangirling. “I would be so honored, sir!”

“Very well,” he gestured for her to follow, and Marinette tried not to trip over her own feet as Adrien’s father stopped at the western wall before a set of massive double-doors. “We can leave the door open, so we’ll hear them come in.”

As Marinette passed the threshold, she could barely keep the bag in her hand, marveling each and every surface of the room with adoration. She had been in here before as Ladybug, but never had there been a chance for her to really stop and appreciate the room for what it was.

The walls were smoky marble, scored in a diamond lattice of light grey that stopped a few feet up from the ground, framed by wood so dark it was almost black. Each panel was carved with intricate molding, giving a sort of three-dimensional depth to the walls. The room itself was divided into three levels with short steps between each. Adrien’s father walked straight towards the top level on the far-end of the room where a large white screen - his famed ‘designscape’ - was situated, just in front of a grand golden portrait. Between the computer and the door, Marinette noticed a short sort of pit in the center of the room that opened to a lower level that mimicked a runway, but, she guessed, could also double as a conference table depending on the circumstances. Spread across the crisp white surface was a dozen portfolios and even more loose pictures, covering the desk from end to end with hundreds or even thousands of drawings and pictures of designs. The far end of the room was pierced by two larger-than-life panes of glass, windows to the world beyond, and they shone brilliantly with the emerging light of a Sunday morning.

On the wall to her immediate right upon entering, Marinette spotted Adrien. And Adrien. And more Adrien. This had been the image to capture her attention most prominently the last time she came here, naturally, and it was an ever expanding collection of his portraits done for his father’s fashion line. Everything about him, the poses, his smile, his presence - all of it, he was effortless.

Mounseir Agreste, apparently, noticed her staring. From behind his pseudo-computer, he commented off-handedly, “He does excellent work, doesn’t he?”

Marinette felt her heart leap into her throat, and she could barely breathe for how quickly the blood rushed to her cheeks.

“U-um, yes, sir. He’s very… ahh... talented?” Her hormone-addled teenage brain could come up with plenty more colorful descriptors for what else Adrien was, but perhaps his father was not the best audience for that. Instead, Marinette just laughed awkwardly, and Mounseir Agreste looked at her from above his glasses before smirking.

“You can set your things down on the tableau, if you’d like. Just push aside any of the mess,” he gestured towards the runway-esque-table in the center of the room, and Marinette shyly nodded and accepted the invitation.

Her mind was racing a million miles a minute, of course. Was this a stupid thing to do? What could she possibly talk to Adrien’s dad about? How long would they be - what if she had to get to work before Adrien even came home? And if not, would she even have sufficient time to talk to him? Why did she stop stalking Adrien’s calendar, if she knew where he was then this never would have happened!

Because, her brain scolded, tracking his whereabouts was creepy and you know it.

Yes, but, her squirming stomach argued, she had never been trapped in the Gabriel Agreste’s office when we had Adrien’s schedule memorized, now did we?

Both of you - Marinette’s jack-hammer heart interrupted - whatever figment of my imagination is giving you unique voices, please, cut it out! This is hard enough when I’m not arguing with myself!

Unsure what else to do, her eyes eventually started to linger across the countless designs sprawled across the length of the runway. The action started as a distraction, but Marinette’s attention was swept away in the painstaking detail that went into each image. From bodice to bustier, tulle and organza, slacks and skirts and accessories of every kind, the Gabriel span of influence know no bounds. She was particularly interested in a volume of unfinished work, most pages only half-colored but otherwise lined with pencil sketches suited to the shapes of men and women of every size and proportion.

“M-Mounseir Agreste?” Marinette spoke meekly, and his attention flickered up from the screen. “I hope you d-don’t mind me saying, but these are all so lovely.” She gestured a shaky hand across the runway.

“I-I promised myself if I ever got the chance, I would tell you the Adalaid handbag from Milan Fashion Week… was - is the most amazing use of suede I’ve ever seen… the attention to detail is something to be… sorry, I’m rambling,” Marinette pushed a hand against her forehead and ducked her head again, hoping he might just let her self-esteem die a quiet death.

“Milan is always a favorite of mine,” he responded, almost sounding bemused. Marinette glanced up to see him come to end of the runway, looking down over the cascade of his own creations through his decades in the industry.

“Ah,” his attention lingered over the thick portfolio right in front of her. “I see you’ve found Emilie’s work.”

“Emilie…?” Marinette responded, but she need not clarification when the man turned around and beheld the abstract, flawless painting of his wife hung behind his work station. She lowered her eyes on the book, and suddenly the unrefined but peculiar drawings seemed to make sense.

“Oh… these were, um, your wife’s…” She mumbled, trying to put distance between herself and the bound collection of sketches, feeling like there was some invisible line in social etiquette and that she had most definitely crossed.

“Yes,” he responded curtly, but sighed and descended to the pit. “She wore many hats, and her own creativity is something I still… I never sketch without the book you’ve got there.” His voice sounded wistful, and Marinette was surprised to hear him speak so openly about his wife. Adrien very rarely even mentioned Madam Agreste.

“It’s one of the handful of things she... left behind.”

Marinette didn’t dare ask for clarification on what else she might have “left behind,” but she didn’t really have to. There were some that required no explanation, like her husband and her son.

“You do have an eye for fashion, Mme. Dupain-Cheng,�� Mounseir Agreste said as he looked over her shoulder, noticing the sketches she pulled towards the front in her absent minded admiration. “I always did like this one, but the color always felt wrong. I could never get it as I wanted.”

He pointed at a brown-leather ensemble, fitted like a trench-coat but seemed to Marinette a dress, the bodice dipping to a sweetheart neck with dropped-shoulders. A wide buckle pulled the eyes to the waist while accentuating the curvature of the hips. Interestingly, there was a peek-a-boo line of fabric that poked out from the bottom of the dress, where the leather crossed over itself like a coat; vertical stripes of white and brown just hinted at something more. To the side of the page, a razor sharp stiletto heel of the same color crisscrossed over a more detailed side-sketch of a foot, with smaller straps that resembled the center buckle as it clasped around the ankle. Were it food, Marinette would have been drooling; but as a designer, she could only feel her creative intuition flare at the sight.

“Wow,” she breathed, and without thinking, added “You said it was the color? You mean the tone of the leather?”

He frowned. “Yes, it was supposed to be… young and bold. Spirited, even. But it always seems… matronly, when worn.”

Marinette had to swallow the urge to make suggestions - who was she kidding? She was a no-name designer speaking to the Gabriel Agreste. No way would she even think of proposing modifications to one of his designs. It’s not like the leather might not be better suited as the patent variety, broadening the possibilities of color. Something like red would certainly pop with spirit, but this… that wasn’t her place.

“I never considered patent leather,” mused Monsieur Agreste, and picked up the paper with one hand and rubbed his chin with the other.

Marinette’s eyes widened in mortification.

Did I seriously just… say that… out loud?

“Oh - oh my, I’m so sorry Mounsier Agreste! I just blabbed and I know that was totally inappropriate, my sincerest apologies - sir, um,” Marinette stood and stepped away, bowing her head again, but this time in shame. Her face was burning and her eyes were nearly watering from the embarrassment.

Looking at the floor, Marinette couldn’t see the amused, if not a little bewildered, raise of Monsieur Agreste’s brows.

“You should never regret speaking on an original idea, Mme. Dupain-Cheng. They are scarce enough as it is. And a good idea? All the better.”

All she could do was blink inanely, sure she must have heard incorrectly.

“Some people make their literal livelihood as purveyors of honesty, you know,” he said, taking the picture with him to his designscape. Marinette slowly returned to the long table, not sitting but listening with interest.

“What is a critic but someone who is paid for their opinions? Or the curator of a museum? They seek out the best pieces of art on some sort of objective scale and create a gallery from their opinions alone. A discerning eye is a rare gift, Mme., you might not be so quick to silence yours.”

“I… wow,” she eventually answered, nodding as she sort of collapsed onto the row seating again. “Thank you, that… that really means a lot, coming from you.”

Marinette watched Adrien’s father’s with rapt attention, his own gaze flickering between the wide touchscreen and the picture in his hand. He hardly paid her any mind for several minutes, and for that, Marinette was thankful; her face right now was probably the picture of dumbfounded admiration.

“So,” Mounsier Agreste offered after a few minutes of silence. “What exactly is the nature of your relationship with my son, Mme. Dupain-Cheng?”

His voice had regained that pointed, almost dangerous quality to it, and Marinette flinched slightly. Thankfully, the man’s attention was caught in his work, so he didn’t notice see the very obvious embarrassment color her cheeks a deep crimson.

“Ah…” Marinette scratched her cheek.

“We are… just friends.” She sighed, unable to keep the regret from her tone. “His best friend Nino, you might know?” Marinette paused, but he so much as look up. With a dry gulp, she continued. “W-well, Adrien’s best friend Nino is in a… he’s dating my best friend, Alya. So… the four of us, um, hang out together. Socially. And at school, too - Adrien’s been… been, uhh, in my class since he started school with us. So…” She sort of just let her explanation taper out, not really sure where she was going with that.

They continued to sit quietly for a time after that, save for Marinette’s heart pounding in her ears and the occasional tap-tap against the designscape. She was torn between excusing herself, trying to think of anything that might not sound stupid to say to him, or continuing to suffer in the near-silence.

Mercifully, he cleared his throat and looked up from his work before she could act on any of her escape plans.

“My apologies, I wanted to incorporate this while it was still on my mind.” With a few keystrokes against the side of the machine, a projecting eye - much like the one she had been interrogated with at the front gate - popped out of the ceiling and a dazzling splash of blue light spilled onto the wall across from Adrien’s portraits. A narrow, blank canvas hung on the wall there - Marinette hadn’t really given it a second thought upon entering - but now it’s utility made perfect sense.

A life-sized drawing of the leather outfit, now accommodating Marinette’s suggestion for red patent, appeared and occupied the space perfectly. The empty canvas was almost poetic as Marinette stared, wide-eyed, at the creation come to life before her. With her suggestion, so too did the outfit itself come to life; the shine of the red seemed more animated than the maturity of browns and whites. Along the bottom lining, Monsieur Agreste had also recolored the peek-a-boo fabric to follow a nautical schema - vertical stripes of blue, white and red seemed to wink out from the folds of the dress, and it definitely looked youthful. Sexy, even, Marinette dared to admit.

“Wow…” She breathed, amazed by how quickly and masterfully her idea materialized by his hand.

“Indeed,” he said, agreeing with the sentiment of Marinette’s exclamation. The girl realized she was gaping, mouth-open, so she firmly closed her lips and tried to her fix her face into something appreciative but not too starstruck.

With all the practice I’ve had with Adrien, I’m pretty sure I’ve got that one down.

A contented sigh escaped Adrien’s father, and with a quick hand, he turned off the projection and the canvas returned to its former off-white, all creativity sterilized by the flip of a switch. Marinette’s eyes could still see the echo of an image, splotchy as her focus blinked back into reality.

“Now, where were we?” Monsieur Agreste came down from the top-level and stood with his back to her, which Marinette found less intimidating, They both faced a wall of Adrien.

“You said you’re a friend of Adrien’s from school - and, oh, that’s right. A gift in thanks? And what did he do that would be so deserving of such a kindness from you?” He turned his head slightly and smiled, laughing just one breath of a laugh, but Marinette felt the tension in her stomach unknot slightly.

She considered how best to respond this time, not wanting to ramble or putter through her sentences like she had been. Honesty felt right, and Adrien was someone with his whole day planned out, so it’s not like she might be sharing anything he wouldn’t already know. Maybe it had been a stroke of good luck with their designer-to-designer moment, but she felt like maybe he respected her… just a tiny bit?

“Well… we crossed paths recently since I work so near to your home… I fell at work a few days ago and messed up my shoulder, and Adrien stayed to help me sort out my mess with the customers. I was willing to pay him, but he declined - so I thought, um, this would at least be a small form of thanks.”

Looking at the bag, Marinette smiled. “He even made a sale. I know it’s probably… not the best idea for him to do something like that, with his fame, so I hope he didn’t get in trouble because of me. But he wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

Adrien’s father turned, a brow raised. “That... sounds like my stubborn son.”

She laughed lightly. “Stubborn is a good word for him.” They met eyes, and Marinette was relieved to actually see him smiling.

Proudly.

“And again, I really am sorry for just showing up like this, sir. If I had known Adrien was out I would have just dropped this off,” she gestured towards her bag, ducking her head shyly. “I appreciate you letting me wait with you, but I do have to get to work soon.”

Adrien’s father adjusted his glasses and glanced at his watch. “I see. Well, your apology is not necessary Mme. Dupain-Cheng, but it is a nice gesture. You can leave the… gift with me, and I’ll make sure Adrien receives it once he gets home.”

Beaming, Marinette nodded and stood up, walking out of the pit towards the door. He followed a few steps behind her into the foyer. She put a hand on the door and prepared to open it when he caught her attention.

“By the way,” he said, voice curious. “What was the name again?”

She blinked, admittedly a little hurt. “M-my name? It’s Marinette Dup -- ”

“No, I’m sorry,” Monsieur Agreste stopped her with a hand. “I meant, the name of your place of work. The flower shop.”

“O-oh! I don’t think I said it, my apologies… It’s Sous les feuilles si vert.” She dug in her purse quickly, Tikki pressed against the very bottom. The kwami read her mind and lifted a business card for Marinette to grab. “I, um, imagine you have a florist on hand… but if you ever need anything quickly we are over off Courtier St.!” She nodded fervently as he accepted the card, and Mounsier Agreste studied the piece of cardstock in his hand.

“Under leaves so green? An interesting name…” He tucked the card in his breast pocket as Marinette pulled open the door.

“We can’t take credit, that was the name when my parents bought it. The previous owner said it’s from a famous poet… William Blake, I think.”

The man wrinkled his nose. “English. I should have figured.”

Marinette giggled nervously and started out the door, waving. “Yes, my thoughts exactly. Thank you again, sir, for everything!”

His expression was strange, looking caught between amusement and something else she couldn’t identify, and Marinette found couldn’t get around the gate fast enough. Each step was a beat to her mantra, repeating again and again as she made her way to work.

You. Just. Met. Adrien’s. Dad. THE. GABRIEL. AGRESTE. You. Just. Met. Adrien’s. Dad.

THE.

GABRIEL.

AGRESTE.

That had gone far better than she could have imagined - if she had been planning on meeting Gabriel Agreste today. Seeing Adrien and dumping three years’ worth of feelings in his lap, with gifts in tow? Yeah, that part could have gone better.

Still, the whole way to the shop, Marinette felt a spring in her step, a lightness in her chest. The blaring philharmonic that carried her to the mansion had quieted, shifted keys, and now the melody was brighter. It twisted and bloomed, unrefined around the edges and a little off-tempo, but Marinette found that she rather enjoyed it. It felt natural and beautiful and right.

This felt right.

The question came a second time, with a different inflection but a surprising amount of patience on his father’s behalf.

“Are you in a relationship with Marinette Dupain-Cheng?”

Adrien had half a mind to wonder what he looked like at that moment, because he was pretty sure his face would have made for a good laugh for Nino. Alya, too. Heck, even probably Marinette would get a kick out of his scrunched lips, drawn brow but concerningly wide eyes. It was a mixture of shock and embarrassment and a stupid amount of pride. That emotion definitely doesn’t belong there, mixed in with the others. Adrien was at least self-aware enough to recognize that, but he didn’t question it, either. That’s love for you.

“I’m not...” Adrien managed, meeting his father’s gaze. “But... I... want to be.”

Across the table-desk-runway, his father’s face remained passive, but a curious finger tapped his pointed chin.

“I see. Why didn’t you tell me?”

Adrien was wondering if this was a joke and some washed up celebrity was going to pop up and shout “You been PUNK’D!” in his face. Then again, that was even less likely a thing his father would agree to... So, somehow, this conversation was really, actually happening.

Struggling to find the words, Adrien leaned over his knees and rested his elbows on his leg. “I… I didn’t even think you knew who Marinette was. It’s all still sort of… new… I’m just sort of admitting it to myself, to be honest.”

A beat of silence passed, and he heard his dad release a long sigh. The clipped sound of dress shoes on cold floors were like short little needles, pricking his ears until the swishing of fabric told him that his father was sitting beside him.

“I’m sorry, Adrien.” His voice was gentler than Adrien was used to, and the blond glanced at him. Glasses off, his father looked uncharacteristically pensive - regretful, almost. “You’re not wrong. I didn’t know her name until this morning, and I feel… I’m not sure how I feel, actually.”

Adrien blinked, too surprised to react verbally, just watching his father return the glasses to his face and lean back, crossing one leg over his knee and looking at the ceiling.

“I know you probably don’t want to talk about it, but I at least hope you know that you can talk to me about anything.” With a little grin, he glimpsed towards his son. “Even about girls, believe it or not.”

Adrien leaned back too, folding his hands in his lap. His fumbling thumbs seemed much more interesting all of the sudden, and it certainly didn’t have anything to do with the redness he felt rush across his cheeks.

“Father,” he stopped to clear his throat, surprised by how choked he sounded. “I, um, thank you. I… I know that. I guess I just haven’t figured out a lot of this myself yet. I only just discovered that she has feelings for me, so I’m trying to make sense of it… I don’t want to freak her out by coming on too strong, but I hate not having my phone. She’s… she’s sort of amazing, Dad.” He laughed through the stress, halting momentarily to gaze down the length of the room. A portrait of molten gold, beautiful as the woman portrayed there, made Adrien smile. Words were coming easier, and it felt like his Mom was listening, too. He imagined she would approve - but then, how could she not? Marinette was perfect.

Indeed, so wonderful, Adrien didn’t even realize that he started rambling.

“Her parents are bakers, and she works at a flower shop around the corner. That’s… that’s where I was, actually, when I lied to Nathalie a few days ago. I really was with Nino and his girlfriend Alya, but I wanted to see her and I just sort of got caught up. Sometimes I can’t even remember my own name when she’s talking about something, she gets really…” Adrien paused, trying to use his hands to explain. It didn’t even occur to him that he was rambling.

“Animated? I don’t know. I can’t figure her out, and that’s the best part about her. And… well, I didn’t want to tell you because… um, I don’t know. She’s really kind, Father, but I don’t know if she’s… uhh, who you would expect me to date,” Pursing his lips momentarily, Adrien turned back to face the man seated next to him.

“But I think you might like her if you met her. She’s interested in design, so you would even have something to talk about.”

At this point, Adrien was pretty sure it could have started raining akumas in the room and he wouldn’t have been surprised. A very large part of him still wasn't convinced this conversation was really even happening.

Adrien was startled a second time, and it was by a sound so foreign that could do little else but stare.

His father was laughing.

Really laughing. Covering-his-face-with-a-hand laughing. Shaking-and-covering-his-stomach laughing.

Laughing.

Adrien was torn between confusion, indigination, and shock just at hearing the sound come from his own father. Still, his lips turned up and let out a laugh or two himself; it was an infectious sound.

Eventually, through some breathy chuckles, his father shook his head and stood, turning towards the door. “I didn’t realize you felt so strongly for her, son. I am... happy for you, but I wish you would have let me finish.”

Adrien frowned. “Finish… finish what?”

Only then did he notice the bag sitting by the door, and Adrien balked. It was brown paper, stamped with a familiar logo across the front.

“Didn’t you wonder how I knew about your interest in Mme. Dupain-Cheng?”

Adrien just opened his mouth and closed it again, utterly baffled. Did his Dad go to the bakery? Or the flower shop? Had he gone through his text messages? But that wouldn’t give him away - he hardly texted Marinette. Adrien had just sort of assumed Nathalie had told his father about this morning, but he had already figured that wouldn’t have made sense for his assistant to do.

“These are for you. They were delivered this morning, in-person.”

“In… person?” Adrien accepted the bag and pulled out tissue paper, his hands shaking with disbelief and unbridled excitement.

A small piece of stationary was the first thing he could find, tucked into the silky face of a dozen tiny petals.

“ 绣球花”

For your help.

Love,

Marinette

He blinked at the Chinese. “Hydrangeas.”

#miraculous ladybug #miraculous fanfic #miraculous #miraculers #fanfic #ao3fic #tales of ladybug and cat noir #ladybug and chat noir #adrinette #adrien x marinette #adrien agreste #adrienette #marinette dupen-chang #marinette dupain-cheng #flowershop au

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