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amostimprobabledream · 2 years

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Colour in my dark side (Homelander x Goth!Reader)

Blame @blindmagdalena for this, ages ago we were discussing Homelander becoming attracted to a goth!Reader who is indifferent to him and this is what spawned. Enjoy!

It’s hellish hot.

The Con is swarming with people, and your all-black outfit isn’t helping at all. This is not your idea of a good time – it’s loud, bright, every fifth person stinks of B.O, and there’s always some kid shrieking somewhere and you’re hungry. Posters and clips of the Seven are playing everywhere – you’re sure if you did a three-hundred sixty degree spin, you’d be able to see a whole movie play out across the whole venue. Honestly, it’s too much. You’ve never really cared all that much about Supes, to be honest. Sure, saving people’s lives is admirable and they deserved every bit of credit and however much money one paid Supes for doing that. That all made sense.

But all this? The tacky clothing lines and toys and comics? The endless ad campaigns and shitty movies and TV shows? It was all just so much. You had no idea how any sane person could bear it, but then, you were pretty biased in that respect. And every one of the Seven except maybe Black Noir were so not your aesthetic – the cheesy grins and spangly suits made your eyes hurt.

So why are you here?

Because your friend Jen practically begged you to come with her. She’d had tickets for SupeCon for months. Apparently, her sister was originally going to come with her, but somewhere along the way, plans changed, things got confused and she couldn’t make it. Jen promised she didn’t expect you to pay for her sister’s ticket and that she’d treat you to lunch, just as long as she didn’t have to go alone. You’d dragged her to some weird events in your time, so you agreed, if slightly reluctantly.

But now you’re here, it’s exactly as bad as you thought it was going to be. And it’s about to get worse.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe the Seven are finally here!” Jen squeals and bounces up and down next to you, while you stand there watching her in befuddlement. No doubt you make an odd pair to anybody watching – she fits right in and you look like a crow amongst a flock of sparrows.

“I mean, yeah, they are scheduled to be.” You reply, in the most deadpan voice you can muster. Jen usually catches onto your sarcasm very quickly, you’ve perfected the art of saying it subtly, but today she’s too excited and it goes right over your head.

The Seven enter with screams of applause that makes you wince, wanting to clap your hands over your ears. Homelander is in the lead, of course, waving to the crowd and even giving a cheesy thumbs-up. Queen Maeve, A-Train, Black Noir and Starlight follow him, not as bombastic but each of them seem to have their fair share of fans too. You don’t know where The Deep is and it looks like they haven’t gotten around to replacing Translucent yet.

Jen is busy snapping pictures of them as they walk to their booths. Apparently there’s going to be a short Q&A later about whatever movie it is they’re supposed to be plugging at the moment. Apparently this one is a big deal because it’s the first one with Starlight in it, but Jen promised she wouldn’t make you stay for that, thank god.

“God, most people don’t look as good when you see them in person, but they’re all so good-looking!” Jen gushes, bouncing on her heels.

“I guess.” You offer neutrally, trying not to sound too critical because she’s here to have fun.

They look a little uncomfortable to you. Well, it’s hard to get any vibes from Black Noir, to be honest, but Maeve has a just-swallowed-a-lemon face and Starlight’s smile has a nervous edge to it. You read somewhere she used to be in beauty pageants as a kid and it shows when she’s in front of a crowd. A-Train and Homelander seem to be soaking in the attention, though, which doesn’t surprise you at all.

“Omg, hey, look this way!” Jen says, suddenly turning her phone the other way and leaning her head towards yours. “Picture!”

“Ugh, do we have to?” you ask, but you dutifully pose anyway, but you don’t smile. The flash stings your eyes and you blink, hard.

You blink several times, eyes watering a bit, but you manage to prevent them from leaking, which is good because you don’t want to fuck up your eyeliner. Now Jen is staring at the rapidly-forming queue, chewing her lip as she deliberates and you fish your phone out of your pocket and start scrolling through it, absent-mindedly.

“Fuck it, I’m going in.” she says, turning to you hopefully. “You wanna come? I know you don’t really like the Seven, but you could at least meet Black Noir yourself?”

"Yeah, I don't think so." you reply without looking up from your phone. "Standing in line for hours just so some Vought barbie doll can bare their teeth at me and give me an overpriced piece of junk with their name scrawled on it is not my idea of a good time."

Okay, maybe that was a bit mean - the heat and hunger is making you snippy, but fortunately for you Jen doesn't mind when you're grouchy so she simply laughs at you.

"Say what you want, Morticia, but I'm going to catch 'em all!" she grins at you. "I can't wait to talk to Starlight, she's the only one of the Seven I don't have any hand-signed merch of yet!"

You glance over at where the girl in question is sitting. Homelander gets the end table, obviously, since they're saving the best for last and if there's an emergency, he needs to be able to get out quickly (he's been known to crash through roofs before, apparently, so he's right next to the emergency exit door), but Starlight's on the table next to his. Between all the other members of the Seven there's something fragile-looking about her, with her dainty white costume and the hair in soft blonde waves. You know that's not true; she has to be tough to have been let into the Seven at all.

But...for some reason you find yourself feeling sorry for her.

"She looks so young." is what you end up saying.

“Yeah, I guess? I just wish she’d ditch that hairband; I had one just like it in middle school,” Jen says, shrugging. “Still love her, though! I’m gonna go get in line now!”

You nod, not really paying attention anymore and glance around, wondering if you should bother buying a hotdog or something – can you last another couple of hours before Jen gets you lunch?

“Okay, I’m getting a slushie. Do you want one?”

She smiles and shakes her head, hitching the strap of her bag further up her shoulder.

“Nah, it’ll have melted by the time I’m finished getting autographs. Go on and listen to The Cure or something.”

“Fuck you,” you reply with a smirk and Jen laughs and trots off towards the back of the line, her hair swishing. You’re glad she drove here because she’s going to struggle walking anywhere with all the shit she’s buying.

The line is so long it’s snaking around the room, but the Seven are used to events like this so hopefully she should only be an hour or so. You sigh and dodge a family that nearly steamroll right over you, a mother and father arguing loudly while their kids whine and shriek behind them, the youngest one squeezing an A-Train toy that is already missing an eye. You make a disgusted face as you dodge them – you don’t want their gross sticky hands getting on your clothes.

After buying yourself a slushie that’s so big it’s slightly too large for you to hold one-handed, you dodge endless streams of people until you get to a wall and lean against it. You can’t see any chairs anywhere, which is a shame because your feet are really starting to hurt.

“Fuckin’ hell,” you mutter to yourself, stabbing your straw through the slushie and taking a long, refreshing gulp. A soft sigh leaves you; “Ah.” At least it’s quieter over here. While you nurse your drink and distantly wish you’d brought a flask so you could put some alcohol in this (you feel like alcohol would make time go by quicker), you get this prickling feeling and glance up, wondering if Jen decided she was too tired to wait.

But no. It’s not her. Instead, Homelander is staring straight at you. At first you don’t register that he is, merely that he happened to glance up in your direction, but after a couple of seconds of his unwavering gaze, it occurs to you that he might actually be looking at you. You glance over your shoulder just in case and relax – there’s an enormous poster blown up to the size of a billboard on the wall a foot or so above your head. He must be staring at that.

Right?

A moment later some guy steps in front of him to get his comic book signed and you can’t see Homelander anymore. Realising you’re nearly finished with your drink, you jolt a bit in surprise – did you drink that really fast or did you just lose track of time for a bit?

Something else occurs to you as you slip away from your quiet spot by the wall and toss your drink.

You really, really want to smoke.

That sounds like a great idea, actually. It’ll get you out of this hellhole for a bit, give you a fix you need and there might be a wall or something to perch on and rest your aching feet. True, you’ll be out in the blazing hot sunshine in all black, but sacrifices must be made.

You send a quick text to Jen and disappear out of there – the venue is strictly no smoking but you’re pretty sure if you nip around the back, there won’t be a problem. You can guarantee some of the stall owners find somewhere to get a nicotine fix, running a stand in a crowded, noisy hellhole like this for nine hours straight.

What you don’t notice is eyes tracking you across the room, and you’ve already rounded the corner of the venue when Homelander stands up and claps his hands, announcing the Seven are taking a quick break and they’ll be right back to finish off the signing, folks!

Cheers and groans swell up in equal measure, but before anybody has any time to protest (though none of the Seven seem to mind this announcement), he’s already vanished through the emergency exit.

Blissfully, you stretch your legs out as you have another suck on your vape. Your instincts were right on the money – you didn’t find a handy wall, but there’s a staff-only door with a couple of stairs that you’ve sat down on. If anybody comes outside, it’ll probably be people working for SupeCon and god knows they probably need a cigarette break more than you do.

Anyway, it’s not like there are any signs back here that say “No Smoking”. An implication is not a concrete rule.

"Smoking's bad for your health, you know."

You jolt and look around, even though you already know who that voice belongs to. What the fuck?

They say famous people always look smaller up close, but in Homelander's case it's the exact opposite. He looks bigger if anything, perhaps it's the way his cape sways importantly behind him or the eagle epaulettes give his silhouette a severe, angular look, but while a few minutes ago you were alone, now it's like you're in a crowded room all over again. You lower your vape.

What the hell is he doing back here? Somehow you don’t think Homelander wanted to get away for a quick nicotine fix before he returns to his adoring public. You stand up, not wanting to be stuck crouching on the steps while he looms over you.

"They do say that, yeah." you deadpan, rubbing your lips together where there's still a lingering taste of your flavoured smoke.

He's looking at you strangely - though Homelander is smiling, there's something flat about it, like it's just something he does while on standby. There's no genuine feeling behind it at all - it doesn't match the look in his eyes, and somehow despite the warm sunshine bearing down on you, suddenly you feel a little chilly. Perhaps he doesn’t appreciate jokes.

"So." Homelander says, popping his lips. "Not to sound too forward, but I couldn't help but notice you earlier. You, ah, stick out a bit in there, even brooding over there by the wall."

His eyes pointedly run down your outfit, and you glance down reflexively too - you're not the only person wearing black in there, but most of the people who are are the ones dripping in Black Noir merch. You're the only person you've seen who isn't wearing any colour or even a hint of Supe gear. Plus you were standing directly in Homelander's line of vision, even if you figured the hundreds of people inbetween you and him would be more than sufficient to hide you. And he'd been so busy dramatically signing every Homelander-related item shoved under his nose that the notion he'd bother noticing a single person in such a big crowd was honestly baffling to you.

Is he coming onto me?

Yeah, right. Homelander, the most baseball games and apple pie person in existence, the All-American boy himself, hitting on a random goth chick?

"Oh?" you reply, wondering where he was going with this.

He tilts his head, looking down at you and you're reminded of a bird of prey staring down a mouse. It makes you straighten your back - you're free to do what you want, and if you don't want to drink the Vought Kool-Aid everybody else here seems to have, what difference does it make to him? It's almost like he's offended there isn't one person here desperate to bask in his presence. It's not as if you've ever disliked Homelander (though he isn't helping his case presently), it's just none of this is you.

"Not a fan of Supes?" he asks lightly, but there's a mocking note in his voice that surprises you. Normally he sounds as rehearsed as those action figures of his. "Does saving lives bore you? Hm? Is that why you came here, to show us all how different and unique you are? Tickets aren't cheap - seems a lot of money for a normal person to spend on not caring."

"My friend asked me to come." you reply, a little defensively, which is ridiculous. Why should you feel the need to explain yourself to Homelander? It's none of his fucking business. "Look, it’s not that I didn’t get in line because I don’t think saving lives matters or anything, I just-“

“You just don’t want to talk to…what was it? Oh, right, a ‘Vought Barbie-doll bearing their teeth at you’?” Homelander says, and shame prickles your skin to have your own words thrown back at you. He steps a little closer and you can smell him – some fancy cologne that probably costs more than your entire outfit put together, plus a sort of woodsy smell like pine trees. You can’t even detect a hint of sweat – apparently sweating is below such beings.

You make a sound, a sort of scoff of disbelief. This can’t really be happening, can it?

“Look, I’m not…I never said I don’t think what you actually do is important. But this?” you wave a hand in the general direction of the Con. “All the pomp and circumstance? Yeah, not my scene.”

“Too bright for your dark tastes, huh?” Homelander says, and is it you or is his voice pitched a little lower than before? It sounds rougher for sure, like stone scraping against stone.

You press your lips together, because can’t think of anything to say to that. It’s pretty obvious he’s not going to be mollified and you’re not apologising to him – if he can’t let go of a little comment made by a total stranger, that’s his burden to bear. You just want to go home. So, you stuff your vape back into your pocket and turn to leave, blowing tutti-frutti flavoured smoke out of the corner of your mouth. You’re tired and hungry and you just want to get out of here and go to lunch.

Unfortunately for you, Homelander seems to have other ideas.

His hand suddenly shoots out and grabs your wrist, tugging your arm out straight, making you stumble forwards – he damn near yanks you right off your feet. He does it so fast you don't have time to react at first, then your eyes narrow in bewilderment.

"Hey-!" you protest, and try to squirm free, but his fingers lock around your wrist. It's like trying to pull your arm out of a steel door and the most insulting thing of all is that Homelander isn't really trying - it's like somebody effortlessly pinching the neck of a kitten to make them go limp. He looks calmer now that he’s caught you off guard, shooting you an amused little smirk. You go still.

"Looks like you're a fan of ink," Homelander says, his eyes tracing up and down the tattoos on your body. Distantly you remember that he has X-ray vision and heat surges to your cheeks - is he-?

But his next words make you go still.

"Since you didn’t have anything for me to sign…I suppose I can make do.”

Easily holding you still just by one arm, he tugs out a Sharpie that was apparently nestling against his hip, held there by his belt, and whips it out, tugging the cap off with his teeth. You catch a glimpse of the side of the pen - it's permanent ink.

"What the fuck-?!"

He ignores your protests, no doubt your squirms are so ineffectual to him you might as well be trying to break down a door with a feather, and he begins writing on you. He's careful not to accidentally tear your fragile skin with the force of the pen, but a shiver goes shooting down your arm as the chilly tip of the pen glides across your forearm, breaking out in goosebumps. You feel like you’re watching this happen from far away, somehow, disengaged from the situation now that you know you can’t run away.

It doesn't take long, only a few seconds, but for you those moments stretch on, elastic as a rubber band being pulled tight before someone releases it. When he's finished, he lets go and you jerk your arm back like it's been burned.

Homelander's autograph is still wet with ink, but already you can see the darker spots being absorbed into your skin - it takes up the entirety of your forearm, written in huge, looping scrawl. You can only stare at it in disbelief - how long is this going to take to wash off? Probably weeks, even if you do scrub it every day with soap or a body scrub or whatever the fuck else you might have to use to get rid of it. You look back up at Homelander, who has already put the pen away. He's grinning at you broadly now, but his fangs are bared and you want to step back from him. You only don't because there's a wall right behind you and you have the perverse thought that looking like you want to run away might excite him.

"You know, I always thought tattoos looked a little…trashy." Homelander confides with a smirk, and his eyes travel up and down the length of your body in a way that would be indecent even without knowing he can see straight through your clothes if he so pleases. "Especially on pretty girls like you, even if you hide it under all that. But I guess it's all about finding ones that suit you best, isn't it? Maybe you can get that made into a real one."

Your jaw drops at the absolute fucking gall. If it were anyone else you probably would have thrown hands with him right now, because who the fuck does he think he is?

But you already know that. He's The Homelander. The best-case scenario is you'd break your hand on him. Worst case?

You don't want to think about what the worst-case scenario might be. You might like dark things, but this is different.

“Well?” Homelander nudges and you continue to stare at him, bewildered. “Aren’t you going to say thank you?”

The air seems to shiver with tension and you nervously lick your lips, uncaring that you’re still wearing lipstick. You’re stalling and he knows it.

“Homelander!”

Before you can even begin to formulate some kind of reply that fulfills the requirements without actually having to say the words, a woman in an absolutely hideous pantsuit comes running up to him and he rolls his eyes, turning to her.

“For fuck’s sake, Ashley, what is it now?” he says, and if he hadn’t just forcefully scribbled all over your skin and demanded you thank him for it ten seconds ago.

You recognise an opportunity when you see one and take that moment to beat it, trying not to run, but in the end you can’t help it, holding your arm to your body like you’ve broken it. You know Homelander is watching you – you can feel his eyes on your back, but you don’t turn around.

As you hurry back entrance hall, you spot Jen, who is now laden down with bags of stuff.

“There you are!” she says. “God, my legs are aching from standing around, but I’m all done! I’m thinking Applebee’s…are you okay? You look a bit clammy.”

“Yeah,” you say, dropping your arm and pressing it to your side. The signature is big, but it’s on the inside of your arm. If you take care to keep it hidden under a booth or against your side, hopefully Jen won’t see it. You don’t feel like explaining how you got it. “Just hungry.”

“Same here. Come on, I think I parked in Bay C…”

You follow Jen out, silently sending up a thanks to whoever might be listening that she’s happy to leave now, that she doesn’t think to ask you any further questions. She’s in her little Supe bubble and you’re not going to pop it. Especially not if you know Homelander can hear you.

At least it’s quieter over here. While you nurse your drink and distantly wish you’d brought a flask so you could put some alcohol in this (you feel like alcohol would make time go by quicker), you get this prickling feeling and glance up, wondering if Jen decided she was too tired to wait.

Especially if you know he might still be watching you.

“Fuckin’ assholes.”

He popped the top off a carton of milk he had awaiting him in his apartment, not even bothering with a glass as he chugged the stuff down, cool and sweet and delicious against his parched throat. As he drank, the one spot of entertainment of the day floated to the surface of his mind.

Namely, the face of that little goth girl when he’d grabbed her arm, the way she immediately stilled when he started writing his name on her skin. For all the weary sighing and under-her-breath snark, there would be nothing she could do about his name branded across her skin like that. It would fade in time, of course, but he got a distinct fission of satisfaction knowing she’d be thinking of him, whether she wanted to or not, every time she looked down at it.

Even if she covered it with black clothes, they’d both know it was there. Like a little secret.

That was Homelander’s assessment of the day. Oh, he’d smiled for pictures, he’d signed the mass-produced bullshit people pushed at him and he’d answered questions about a silly movie he barely remembered making. Such trivialities that Vought deemed worthy of his time. But anything for the fans, right?

Lazily, almost absently, he started undoing the front of his suit, one-handed, fishing out his already hardening cock. Setting the milk aside, he braced himself against the wall as he started to jerk it in some frantic pumps of his hand, overcome with the memory of her, the whiff of her Vape and the hitching of breath when he touched her. Homelander moaned throatily and threw his head back, imagining how it might feel to put his name on the girl permanently, to ink himself on someone who thought they were o very removed from the world he inhabited – no, not inhabited – ruled. She was just as much something to amuse him as everyone else.

As few more frantic jerks made him come, a hot, pleasing flush after a long, boring day of pageantry and ennui.

“Fuck,” he muttered to himself, with a smile, lashes casting shadows across his cheeks with his eyes closed in bliss.

Perhaps there was something to be said about tattoos after all.

The water hisses as you scrub and scrub and scrub, foamy white bubbles dribbling down your arm and splashing back into the sink.

Nothing. The Homelander signature is still there, gleaming starkly in the dim lighting of your bathroom. You’ve been working away at it for hours now, but whatever pen he used is apparently an excellent quality one. You're just thankful Jen was too hyper from meeting her idols to notice you were suddenly doing everything one-handed.

But an idea comes to you as you stare resentfully at your reflection, gingerly patting your arm (which is sore now from hours of scrubbing and soaking it) – if you can’t get it off you and you’ll have to live with it for a couple of weeks, the best thing to do seems obvious.

Namely, improve it.

So you hurry into your room and start fishing through your desk drawers until you find it – another Sharpie, one you have ironically brought to gigs with you before for bands to sign if you can get them alone for a minute. But it will serve another purpose tonight.

Tugging the cap off with your teeth, you lie your arm flat on your desk and hover the pen over Homelander’s name.

Very carefully you make your adjustment, grinning around the cap as you do.

A second later and it’s done. The word Homelander is still there – except that the ‘m’ is blocked out with a black star, so now it actually reads “Ho★elander.”

“How’s that one for trashy, asshole?” you mutter to yourself, a surge of petty glee rising up in you like sap oozing forth from a tree, savagely pleased with your handiwork.

As you flop onto your bed, a line pops into your head, and despite what a long, bizarre day it’s been, you laugh and say out loud;

“I went to SupeCon, and all I got was this lousy autograph.”

#Homelander x Reader #Homelander x You #Blogging #Writings #The Boys (2019)#Homelander being Homelander #Mild smut

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skzstoryvault · 4 months

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Dans le noir ( Hyunjin fic)

Undead F!Reader x Hyunjin

Standalone story

I am a sucker for a vampire story, but usually it's the men who are the allpowerful vampires. I'm reversing the roles a bit here.

Reader here is an ancient vampire, very over-powered, and their origin is based on the backstory of Ahmanet from the movie "The Mummy". Of course she is very affected by Hyunjin's unique charms.

This is in no way meant as a commentary on the real person Hyunjin. The persona he projects for us to enjoy is just so enticing and inspires nice dreams.

Story includes barely mentioned smut, biting and blood drinking, Hyunjin becoming very affected by reader's charms.

The you used here is not generic, I'm using it to allow myself some immersion on later re-reads. If you still find something in here to like, all the better - I hope you enjoy it and have a good time.

Please be kind.

Please do not report this post. If it's not your thing, just scroll away.

If you're underage, please scroll on, there is nothing for you here.

If you enjoy this story and are reading along, I would love to hear your comments in the replies, reblogs or DMs - however you feel most comfortable.

***

Millennia passed you by like weeks and little caught your eye. Much less seized your heart.

Until here, now, when the sweetness of his soul and the melody of his blood reach and wake you from your dreams.

His scent reaches you first, and then the jaunty sound of his heart, the rush of his blood through his veins. Ticking his life away, the cadence imperceptible for now, while he’s young.

His passion for everything he does is the spark that lights the fire warming you back up. His stream of thoughts, rushing all over the place like tens of excited kittens on long, spry legs, lures you out of the darkness.

Your body comes back to life. You find fresh prey to steal warmth from, and by the time his orbit and yours intersect, you’re as convincingly alive as he is. But the mystery and the threat remain around you like an invisible shroud.

He is, how else, drawn to you. His mind is quiet and soothing, like a parade of colours and imagery he conjures up. Such a shift from what the usual mortal’s inner cinema is showing - cold, hungry, lonely, horny, ashamed, afraid.

Hyunjin’s mind is a museum and a palace, every corner of it ornate, luxurious and playful. A universe in and of itself. You spend your time roaming its halls, known and welcome by him.

He never shows fear - but he doesn’t know fear when it comes to you, as though he always knew that he would arouse an immortal’s interest. He’s so exquisite in his innocence, he has no idea what you truly are, yet he does not question his pull towards you.

He risks a lot, coming to find you alone. His life is steered and dictated by others, who keep him on a very short leash and guard him because he is worth many shiny trinkets to them.

Usually, he’s the artist - the one holding the brush and deciding which way the lines flow. Now, you’re the master and he’s the art. Your worldly mask is that of a designer, an alchemist of colour, shape and texture, and Hyunjin does not hesitate to bare himself to you.

HIs naked skin contrasts so prettily with the gold of his many jewels, shadows from your candlelight dancing seductively over the pale plains and valleys of his skin. You look at him and the view he offers is timeless, something which made the first man’s heart quicken just as it does yours now.

Pygmalion and Galatea, that’s what you are and what he is to you, but you’re one to savour the unwrapping of your present. Play with your food for a bit.

The first night, Hyunjin leaves your atelier affected, but untouched.

The next night, he is back, seeking your closeness like the drunk seeks the carafe.

Life buzzes around the two of you, the hours of broad daylight bringing more and more mortals into your orbit. This way, you meet Hyunjin’s family. Seven other boys whom he thinks of as seven pieces of his soul, walking through the world exposed and vulnerable. There is one among them he thinks of almost like a mate and a father in one, and two of them he views as his small children. He is too soft a father in his own eyes because he has a favourite.

You realise you cannot easily pluck him from his life - from his odd family of men who profess their love for one another through small charred bits of animal flesh. But you’ve never denied yourself your heart’s desires.

Many nights into your slow seduction, he walks close into your own space, close enough for his lips to touch the marble-like texture of your neck.

“You feel so cold,” he says. “Let me warm you.”

And you do, you let him underneath your clothes and inside your body, which made itself welcoming for him, millennia after the god who made you tried to take that from you.

Hyunjin’s love feels like a sacrament and he brings fire and fragrance where there was only darkness and ice. He feels like a fervent priest, performing his rituals before an unmoving stone idol, so passionate and so sincere that life inhabits the once inanimate form anew

You’ve long forgotten the way your flesh can feel, the power you gathered through the ages erasing all the weakness and the softness which made pleasure possible in your core. But Hyunjin lit a new flame in your altar and you find yourself pleased with his gift.

You look at him, sat open in his lap, your legs spread over his own folded ones. Like a lotus depicting the symmetry of nature, he holds you up and facing him, a mirror image of himself but from another space and time. It’s too delicious, too unbelievably reverent of him and it makes you want to finally give in.

You feel your fangs lengthen, and the accompanying disgust wanes sooner than usual before you lean close and bite. His blood is so potent and sweet, the thrumming of it so alluring that you almost forget to stop in time. Almost.

Some of your venom helps heal the wound you made and muddies Hyunjin’s perception enough to make him neglect and forget the memory of you drinking from him.

In time, he becomes addicted to the feeling of floating, of dancing on the high wire between life and death and he craves the euphoria of your venom flooding him and making everything right.

“Take me over to your side. Make me yours. Don’t let me grow old and fade into nothing.” He begs, not long after he pieces everything together. “Or, let me die if you don’t want me. Don’t keep me so far from you, like your blood bag and nothing more.”

He says this for the umpteenth time, standing at a mirror in your bedroom, his long velvet rope open, revealing his naked front, which carries innumerable marks of how addicted you’ve grown to his blood.

You would bring him over to your side, you really would, but the fact he is alive and fragile is what drew you to him in the first place and, if it were you who pulled him into the darkness with you, as your fledgeling, you would lose the delicious connection between your minds. Thirdly, something you’ve learned along the eras and that you personally abhor, is the abyss of resentment that inevitably arises between sire and fledgeling. Like a child who could not consent to being born, spitting hateful words to its parent when the suffering of being alive on this Earth gets too much to bear, Hyunjin would turn on you or worse, leave you, once he realises the flavour of immortality he demanded cannot keep his heart happy.

“Besides, you would not want to be alone forever, would you? You could not sit and watch our members grow old and die around you.” You say. “I have an idea.”

You travel to the place Hyunjin calls home, the dorm he shares with three other men, and make sure everyone else is asleep before you will the doors to open and make your way in.

In the semi-dark room, you see his dark silhouette in the corner, lit only by the blue glare of his laptop and the purple of the small lights on the wall.

His blood runs cold and he starts to shake when he becomes aware of your presence.

“Do not be afraid, Bang Chan. I’m going to make you an offer you cannot refuse.”

You had to go to him, because you have no doubt in your mind that he will share his gift with all his children.

#hyunjin smut #hyunjin fluff #hyunjin hard thoughts #undead f!reader x hyunjin #dans le noir #fic #skz hyunjin #skz stories

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safety-writes-noms · 1 year

Note

OKAY HI- HEARD YOU WANTED ASKS SO

MAYBE SOME OF YOUR VORE IMAGINES ON NOIR OR MIGUEL?

Or just whoever you want hshs

YES OFC POOKIE I’LL DO BOTH

Also I’m most familiar with writing g/t vore so i hope that’s okay and im sorry if it’s not your preference 😔

VORE BELOW CUT

Noir:

He comes from a dimension where people are starving in the streets and food is a precious resource. So if you offer to let him nom you or ask him to, he’ll be really appreciative. Especially if he’s hungry and needs a small placeholder before he can get to actual food.

Always has a protective hand placed over his belly if there’s someone tucked away inside. It makes him feel a bit more secure, knowing that the person is completely safe now but he can never be too sure. Only takes it off when he needs to.

Monochrome internals. It goes with his permanent black and white coloring. Plus i think that’d just fit. Once someone has asked him if he drank sharpie bath water. He didn’t even know what that was.

He has a cushy stomach, if not a little cramped and a little slippery. It’s moderately loud with it’s gurgles and growls, but not too loud. I feel like it’d be really warm inside, so it’s pretty comfortable. It is a little bit slimy though.

He’s up for it at any time any place. Oh, you’re cold and you want in? Say no more, he’ll swallow you and get you to a warmer area. You’re hiding from a group of people trying to hurt you? He can’t have that, he can put you in a safe and comfortable place while you hide. You just want to get eaten just because? He’s fine with that too. Down the hatch.

He’s big on comfort noms, whether or not it’s him who’s being comforted or a different person. He finds that it’s easier to calm down if he has someone inside, a small weight in his belly that helps him stay grounded. If he’s the one doing the comforting, its really easy to relax in his belly. It’s soft and warm and the constant slow movement of his other organs shifting as he breathes makes good ambiance.

Miguel:

this man is not gentle at all. He barely ever indulges himself for noms unless it’s utterly necessary. Or if he’s really close with the person, he’ll consider it at least. So when he does swallow someone in the events of an emergency, he’s not all that nice. He just nabs them, swallows them down and resumes whatever he was doing before hand, which is most often trying to contain anomalies.

He probably won’t explain and his only goal at the moment is to finish the mission, spit the person out into a safe place and leave. He’ll also be a little grumpy if the reward for his efforts is just a small stomach ache. (Even tho it’s kind of his fault for not explaining anything)

Like i said in my last post, he enjoys mouthplay a lot. If he’s comfortable enough with the person there’s a chance he might not even swallow, simply content with having something to (gently) fiddle with as he works. Although once or twice he’s accidentally had them slip down his throat when he wasn't intending to swallow the person.

He’s got a strong throat and can work someone down in just a few gulps with minor difficulty. Unless they’re actively fighting against him, in which he usually just presses a finger against his throat and pushes them down from the outside.

Despite the fact that he rarely ever indulges himself, he genuinely does like having someone tucked away inside. He just doesn’t think he deserves to have a break or should have one to just enjoy himself. Not when there are anomalies popping up everywhere, he still has repairs to make, he has thousands of people waiting on him to make life and death decisions every day and he can’t afford to “slack off”, in his words.

#sfw vore #SW answers asks #s: spidervores #spidervores #extreme cuddling #nonsexual vore

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zizekianrevolution · 5 months

Text

Let’s talk about “objet petit a”, which is a concept related to “castration” which is related to “the entry into language” and which is a concept which Lacan invented. It’s sort of, as he says, the only concept which he really invented. The others, he mostly stole, whereas “objet petit a” is really an invention. “L’objet petit a”, cause of desire. Cause of desire. That is, we often think we lose something at the beginning, and we search for it our whole lives, and that’s not wrong but it’s not sufficient. I find that what’s interesting about the lost object, about “objet petit a” - cause of desire, is that it’s because there’s the loss, the initial loss, that I desire. It’s like a little kick-starter. It’s not the end goal. It’s not the destination you aim for, it’s more like the engine. And what’s more, what follows is a relation to lack in life that’s interesting. It helps me because because basically I hate lack. I like everything to be full. I don’t like lacking in my life. I don’t like being too hungry, I don’t like being too thirsty, I don’t like being hot, I don’t like being cold, I don’t like it if someone doesn’t text back, I don’t like it if they text too much, I don’t like blah blah blah… There comes a time when you have to take into account the fact that life is lacking. In any case, life is not adapted to our selves. Ah. There’s something uncomfortable about it. This initial lack, present from the moment of conception it’s imperfect, we are not complete. That is, there is already a lack, from the moment you are named by your parents, first, you didn't even get to choose your name so you’re already submitted to someone else’s desire, and it’s a mess. To come back to “objet petit a”, in philosophy, we have the subject - oneself and the object, that which the subject identifies, or which identifies the subject. Voila. Subject > object. Lacan’s “objet petit a”, as one of my philosophy teachers used to say long ago is basically ... neither completely object or subject. Basically it’s a little bit of the subject that escapes. We even call this the falling object. Obviously this is conceptual, clearly there’s no… But, actually in the umbilical cord there’s already this little piece of the mother a little piece of the child and we don’t really know who it belongs to The placenta is in mother, but at the same time it’s... It doesn’t belong to one or the other. It’s a mess! An example comes to mind, one of my teachers said that “objet petit a” is lost because of language, and it’s through language that we try to recover it. It’s a phrase that I had some difficulty understanding. Like, the loss through language and the fact of trying to recover it through language, that can never be achieved because the more we name it, the more it dies, the more it escapes. It was something I could grasp theoretically but I had trouble really feeling it, perceiving it personally. - Mardi Noir

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aalissy · 1 year

Text

Roles Reversed

Anddd here’s the second and final chapter for the day! A bit of reverse love square bc a smitten Adrien is my fave Adrien! Wish we had gotten this for a bit longer in s5 :’).

AO3

Shifting his bag, Adrien looked up at the bakery hopefully. He was currently standing outside those doors, waiting for the best moment to go in and hopefully get a chance to see Marinette.

Yes, Adrien Agreste was completely and utterly smitten by Marinette Dupain-Cheng. He knew that the very first day he met her.

Though they hadn’t gotten off on the right foot, he was positively determined to make her one of his first friends. And, yet, when that thunder sounded in the distance and he blinked down into a pair of curious, sapphire blue eyes he found himself wanting more. And then that umbrella snapped down on her head filling him with such euphoria he couldn’t help laughing.

That was the day his crush started. It evolved quickly after that. Growing into something bigger each day Adrien saw her kindness and utter brilliance.

Yes, he was absolutely smitten with her. If only she noticed him.

No matter how often he flirted with her, it seemed like Marinette would only ever shake her head or roll her eyes. Like she didn’t quite believe he was being serious.

Adrien couldn’t help but wonder if that did have something to do with the gum incident. Perhaps she still blamed him for trying to fix one of Chloé’s pranks.

But, he was determined to win her over. Just like that day in the rain he’d show her his heart and get her to realize that his love for her was true.

Sucking in a deep breath and summoning some of his Chat Noir courage, Adrien pushed his way through those doors. The bells chimed above him and all at once his nerves completely vanished the second that he saw Marinette’s smiling face.

A goofy grin spread across his cheeks as he found himself drawn towards her. “Fancy seeing you here, Marinette.”

She scoffed, shaking her head at him even as her smile grew wider. “Yes, fancy seeing me at the bakery I live and work at.”

Adrien leaned across the counter, trying to memorize her face. She was so pretty. Even when she was looking at him like he was absolutely insane.

Her eyebrow slowly rose as he continued to just stare. “Did you want to buy a croissant? Or maybe a macaron?”

“What if I told you I came by just to see you?”

Marinette’s lips parted with surprise. She blinked down at him before the confusion slowly faded to a look of utter amusement. “I’d say that you could have asked to hang out instead of simply coming to the bakery.”

Adrien chuckled, his eyes glimmering at her playfully. “Ah, but would you have said yes?”

Her expression softened before she nodded her head. “Of course, I would have, Adrien. We’re friends. We can hang out any time you’re free. I know you’re usually busy with your father’s photoshoots, though.”

And there was the word. The word that he had come to utterly loathe. Even though it should have lifted his spirits, it instead caused his hopes to crash down. Friend. That’s all she’d ever see of him.

Marinette must have seen his face fall because she instantly perked up, grabbing a croissant and pink macaron before placing them into a bag. “You look hungry, Adrien. Why don’t you eat these? And, maybe, on my break we can find some time to meet up in the park. Would that be alright?”

He cheered up quite quickly, grabbing the bag from her and nodding his head eagerly. “That’d be absolutely lovely, Marinette. Thank you for finding the time to meet up with me.”

“No problem, Adrien.” She winked at him and his heart fluttered. So adorable. “I know how hard it is for you to find time to meet up with friends, so of course we can meet up whenever you have free time.”

He beamed at her. Marinette was just so warm and caring. It was no wonder he loved her. Now if only he could get her to love him too.

Paying for the treats, he then reached over and took the bag from her. Adrien’s heart quickened as their fingers brushed. A shiver ran down his spine at the touch. Was his mind playing tricks on him or were Marinette’s cheeks slightly pink?

But, within the next second, the blush was gone and she was grinning at him once more. “My break is in an hour. Will you still have time to go with me to the park?”

Adrien nodded eagerly. All his father needed to know was that he decided to take some time to study after his fencing lessons. It’s not like he ever noticed he was gone when he was Chat Noir.

“I’ll always have time for you, Marinette.”

“You’re so silly, Adrien.” She giggled, tapping his nose from across the counter.

He should have felt disappointed but instead, he just felt completely lovestruck. She touched his nose! That was two touches from the girl of his dreams on the same day. And, wasn’t that truly wonderful?

Giving her a dazed wave, Adrien turned around and sat down at one of the empty tables. Pulling out the croissant, he practically devoured it while he waited. It was positively delicious.

He was definitely going to have to summon the courage to confess to her later today. Maybe that would convince her that he was serious about his feelings for her. But, then again, wouldn’t it be better if he designed an elaborate date idea before confessing?

Yep, it would definitely be best to save the emotional confession over a moonlit dinner by the Eiffel Tower. Ooh, or maybe even a date on a boat on the Seine!

It was decided then. He was definitely going to save the confession. Today Adrien would just continue flirting with her. Maybe he could even see if Marinette would be willing to go on a date with him by the Eiffel Tower.

Casting a quick glance over at her, he felt his cheeks warm when he noticed that she was already staring. Marinette simply grinned and waved at him, completely unaware that all Adrien could think about was finding a way to woo her.

She mouthed I’ll be out in a minute and he quickly straightened up. He was definitely going to think of this as their first date.

Maybe he could even figure out a way to hold her hand.

Even just thinking about it sent tingles up his hand. Stretching his hand out, Adrien glanced at the clock. He couldn’t wait until it was time for her break!

#miraculous ladybug #ml #mlb #miraculous #ml fic #fic #fanfic #adrinetteapril2023 #adrienetteapril2023 #adrinette #adrienette #love square #reverse love square #reverse crush #reverse crush au

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xhanisai · 1 year

Text

Fanboy

AO3

Pairing - Lady Noire X Adrien

Prompt - ‘Fanboy’

Summary -

"Lady N- bug...?" He held his tongue in time so that he didn't out himself. The names they had for each other when they swapped their miraculous weren't common knowledge after all. The current black cat wielder eyed him for a little while, her feline greens scanning his face and body for any injuries or discomfort (and her adorable, adorable kitten ears perched on top of her head remained poised and alert).

"Yes and no. Right now, I'm Lady Noire." She winked and it was like a cupid arrow shot his heart.

~(x)~ . . . "Adrien! Attention!" The blond boy hardly had the chance to even process the words yelled at him because, in an instant, he found himself tackled by a tiny blur of black right before the area he was standing on was completely demolished by the latest Akuma's power. By the time Adrien and the blur rolled to a standstill on the ground nearby, hidden away from the monster's sight, he finally recognised the heroine that cradled him in her arms and straddled his hips with hers. "Lady N- bug...?" He held his tongue in time so that he didn't out himself. The names they had for each other when they swapped their miraculous weren't common knowledge after all. The current black cat wielder eyed him for a little while, her feline greens scanning his face and body for any injuries or discomfort (and her adorable, adorable kitten ears perched on top of her head remained poised and alert). When she was satisfied with what she saw, she got up from his frame (much to his dismay) and helped him up to his feet effortlessly, all with a fanged smile that held more of a hungry, mischievous edge compared to the confident grin she always wore as Ladybug. "Yes and no. Right now, I'm Lady Noire." She winked and it was like a cupid arrow shot his heart. She was way too cute; all he wanted to do was squeal like a fangirl and hold her in his arms whilst jumping up and down. "O-Oh. I see. How come you're wearing the ring? Is Chat Noir okay?" He played up his clueless civilian act, hoping that she didn't pick up the way his heart elevated in speed and the way his complexion started to take on a kissed rosier hue. "Chat Noir? He's completely fine, don't worry about him," With how she placed a clawed, slim hand on his shoulder, he almost guaranteed that no, her partner was not fine at all. Not with the way she continued to watch him with those curious and slightly playful-looking eyes and the way she tapped her tiny claws on his firm bicep. He really, really wasn't fine. "That's good to hear! Hahaha!" Adrien cursed himself for the way his voice rose in pitch and when her smile turned devilish, he lost all his speaking skills and remained as stiff as a board. "Are you okay? Your heart is beating a little fast, Adrien," Her fangs glinted dangerously (wonderfully) and she placed her other hand on his chest, long braid wrapping itself around his ankle loosely. He wasn't able to handle it any longer and before any of them knew it... . He fainted. . . . ~(x)~

#my writing #miraculous ladybug #miraculous ladybug and chat noir #lady noire #adrinoire #ml fanfiction #ml fanfics #ladrien

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hdowlpost · 2 years

Photo

Masterlist and Reveal of the 2022 hd_owlpost Winter Gift Exchange

Here they are – all 130 owl gifts delivered by our owls to you – our wonderful hd_owlpost giftmakers, pinchhitters, owl helpers, readers and commenters.

Reclists @lumosatnight created Confusion, Cars, and Canon Divergence: A Drarry Rec List (G | 11recs) for c_art @sugareey-makes-stuff wrote Jae's Hidden Gems (links to googledoc) (a fic rec list) for Enchanted Jae Podfics @atgranger read [podfic] A house is not a home (NC-17 | 1:34) for db_shark @blue-dreaming read [podfic] Feels a lot like flying (G | 7:37 minutes) for ACgranger @blue-dreaming read [podfic] Estaciones (G | 5:59 minutes) for Doom @blue-dreaming read [podfic] Ein Notfall in der Familie (und andere Ablenkungsmanöver) (PG | 16:26) for Vaysh @lumosatnight read [podfic] Wanted (G | 8:53 minutes) for thejadewritergirl @magsmagicalnightmare read [podfic] A Scottish Winter (M | 51:21) for acGranger @magsmagicalnightmare read [podfic] Weekend Plans (R | 16:24) for Smirkingcat smirkingcat read [podfic] And when I come home (R | 2:55) for db_shark Memefics @stargazing-enby wrote We All Eat Lies When Our Hearts Are Hungry: a Meme Fic Rec (PG | memes) for Marsbar @stargazing-enby wrote Five Points: a Meme Fic Rec (PG | memes) for Themightyflynn Translations @stargazing-enby wrote [translation] El cabeceo (NC-17 | 1865 words) for Anaxandria | Rin @vaysh11 wrote [translation| Ganz die Alten (PG | 1363 words) for Enchanted Jae Comment Reviews @inspiredbeing wrote Review/Comment of: Have you tried the tea? (G | 9044) for Orpheous @phoebe-delia_delia wrote Comment for "The Purpose of a Rubber Duck (NC-17 | 3,6K words) for KatIsSleeping smirkingcat wrote Comment for "Making a Family Makes a Home" (G | comment/review) for Mosrael Beta Gifts @edaniels0221 did a Beta Reading Gift for Thejadewritergirl @mosrael did Beta for Round Robin Fic for The Community @harryandhislittledragon did a Beta reading gift of All I Want for Christmas (WIP) for kitty-fic Fanbindings @anaxandria created [Fanbinding] Little Lost Things (fanbinding) for Flightinflames | Jasper @anaxandria created [Fanbinding] A Very Owl Post WrtrGrl Anthology (209 page book) for Thejadewritergirl @c-art created [Fanbinding] (You’re a) Revolution by Doom, as a book for @stargazing-enby | Doom @moonpeachh created created The Heart and Salt of the Soul (PG | moodboard+playlist) for edaniels0221 Moodboards & Playlists @bererjs created Nothing says home like the smell of baking (G | moodboard for fic) for Maraudersaffair @katisleeping Moodboard for How The Light Gets In (G | digital art) for Flightinflames | Jasper @harryandhislittledragon created [moodboard] I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies (R | art) for Logan @moonpeachh created The Heart and Salt of the Soul (PG | moodboard+playlist) for Ddaniels0221 Craft @anaxandria created Crochet] A Dragon and a Lion Celebrate Christmas (G | craft) for Bluedreaming @bererjs created Unexpected Surprise at Comic-Con! (G | craft) for Anaxandria | Rin @bererjs created A Cozy Holiday (G | craft) for KatIsSleeping @c_art created small winter crafts (G | crafts) for Keyflight790 @db_shark created Tiny little Harry and Draco figures made of air dry clay (G | craft) for edaniels0221 @drwhoisginnyholmes | Logan created Functional crafts for the hard-working Hufflepuff (G | craft) for Pineau-noir @drwhoisginnyholmes | Logan created Functional crafts for the busy Ravenclaw (G | craft) for Inspired_being</b> @kittymiaomeow wrote Drarry Necklace (G | craft) for Magsmagical @kittymiaomeow wrote Harry & Draco Ornaments (G | craft) for Ladderofyears @pineau-noir created Handmade tote bag (G | craft) for Orpheous @pineau-noir created A handmade tote bag delivered by Errol himself (G | craft) for Retiredunicorn @themightyflynn08 wrote Hedwig Cross Stitch (G | craft) for Logan Art and Comics @c-art created Banner art for Owlpost 2023 Owlpost + stickers (G | digital art) for The Community @c-art drew warm hands (G | art) for kitty-fic @digthewriter created First Christmas (G | art) for Alikandre @digthewriter created If we're still single when we're 40… (G | digital art, gif) for Inheartofwinter @digthewriter created Traditional and Wholesome (G | art) for Lilbeanz @drarryruinedme7 created ART for Destination: Wedding by AhaMarimbas (G | art) for Marsbar enchanted_jae drew Holy Snowball Fight (G | stick!art) for Themightyflynn @gemfae created Harry and Draco and Baby Makes... Eight?! (PG | art) for Drarryruinedme7 @inheartofwinter created It’s Christmas and I Wish You're Home (G | digital art) for Geminifaerie @ladderofyears drew [Art] Their Happy Ending (G | digital art) for Bere @ladderofyears drew Love Of My Life (G | art) for Digthewriter @ladderofyears drew Draco Malfoy (G | digital art) for Smirkingcat @legendrarry created A Merry Merry Christmas (G | art) for Vaysh @lilbeanz created It's Cold Outside (G | art) for C_art @lilbeanz created The Case of the Christmas Crook (G | art) for Drarryruinedme7 @lilbeanz created Rain of Fate (G | art) for Legendrarry @lumosatnight created Banner for fragment 31 (G| digital art) for Bluedreaming @magsmagicalnightmare created DRARRY: Hands Joint Together: Draco Harry Always (G | craft) for C_art @magsmagicalnightmare created DRARRY: Embraced Hands: Draco Harry Always (G | craft) for Sugareey @sugareey-makes-stuff created Not Looking for Sweet Talk (NC-17 | art) for Maraudersaffair @sugareey-makes-stuff created Breader Together (G | art) for Moon_peach Poems @gemfae wrote My Love (poem | M | 320) for Keyflight790 @keyflight790 wrote Flicker (PG-13 | poem | 399 words) for Alikandre @thejadewritergirl wrote Because I love you: Poetry VS Monologue (G | 397) for Vaysh Collabs @drwhoisginnyholmes, @inspiredbeing, @purplehotmess|Yuvika and @vaysh11 wrote Letters Between Handshakes (G | 6002 words) for Bere Fic @alikandre wrote Add a Place at the Table (Aggiungi un posto a tavola) (G | 8635 words) for KatIsSleeping @alikandre wrote Rainy days at the bus stop (G | 5841 words) for Legendrarry @alikandre wrote It looks as if we two might never be one (something must be done) (PG | 33508 words) for Moon_peach @atgranger wrote The taste of him (R | 4971 words) for Kitty-fic @atgranger wrote good intentions generally do not justify stalking, Harry (PG-13 |10517 words) for Titti @blackfodder wrote The Soulmatch Spell (G | 10066 words) for The Community @blackfodder wrote seeing for you (R | 8865 words) for Smirkingcat @bellapine wrote Mrs Weasley’s Miracle (G | 1100 words) for Blackfodder @bellapine wrote The Ever Oak (PG-13 | 750 words) for Geminifaerie @bellapine wrote The Squid Who Saved Romance (G | 1200 words) for Inheartofwinter @deliciousblizzardshark wrote How Harry Potter gained and lost his personal healer, one Draco Malfoy (PG | 8288 words) for Lilbeanz @digthewriter wrote You don't have to ask (to kiss me) (NC-17 | 5800 words) for Pineau-noir @drakaina101 wrote The Winter Solstice (PG13 | 11502 words) for Stargazing-enby @drakaina101 wrote Reminded With A Kiss (R | 7240 words) for Mosrael @drakaina101 wrote A Perfect Tree (PG-13 | 4011 words) for Titti @drarryruinedme7 wrote All the Way In (NC-17 | 7531 words) for Drakaina @DrWhoIsGinnyHolmes | Logan wrote Coffee Cups and Confessions (PG | 2946 words) for edaniels0221 @edaniels0221 wrote Deliberate Denial (G | 7244 words) for Alikandre @edaniels0221 wrote Draco Malfoy and the Stupid Secret Santa Debacle (G | 3610 words) for Drakaina enchanted_jae wrote Ridiculous (PG-13 | 1588 words) for Anaxandria | Rin enchanted_jae wrote When You Say Nothing At All (PG | 1274) for Drarryruinedme7 @flightinflame wrote Someone to Rely On (PG-13 | 1258) for Inspired_being</b> @flightinflame wrote What is Required (G | 1527) for Lumosatnight @flightinflame wrote Leave only footprints (take only memories) (PG | 1138) for Orpheous @geminifaeries wrote Festive (NC-17 | 3848 words) for Logan @inheartofwinter wrote Everyone Needs A Weasley (PG-13 | 11151 words) for Pineau-noir @inheartofwinter wrote What In The Black Ink (PG | 702 words) for Sugareey @inspiredbeing wrote A Deal Made To Be Broken (PG | 6376 words) for Digthewriter @inspiredbeing wrote A Lesson in Snake Handling (PG | 2758 words) for Inheartofwinter @katissleeping-blog wrote Fake It ‘Til You Make It (PG-13 | 1835 words) for Digthewriter @katissleeping-blog wrote A Place of His Own (G | 300) for Retiredunicorn @keyflight790 wrote Candy Cane (NC-17 | 5490 words) for Maraudersaffair @ladderofyears wrote Long Past Scorpius's Bedtime (PG-13 | 2147 words) for Enchanted Jae @ladderofyears wrote Not Going Anywhere (G | 4654 words) for Flightinflames @ladderofyears drew Be My Baby (M | digital art) for Purplehotmess | Yuvika lee_bella wrote Wolf Moon (R | 1750 words words) for Themightyflynn @legendrarry wrote Christmas Eve (G | digital art) for Blackfodder @legendrarry wrote Are we falling like snow on the beach (G | 2918 words) for Phoebe_delia @mars-bar81 wrote Teddy's Christmas Book (G | 2643 words+digital images) for Drakaina @mars-bar81 wrote Jewelweed (M | 8910) for Keyflight790 @mars-bar81 wrote Harry Potter has two left feet (and is a first class idiot) (PG-13 | 3970 words) for Magsmagical @maraudersaffair wrote Claim Me on a Bed of Snow (NC-17) | 1989 words) for Blackfodder @maraudersaffair wrote Big Love (NC-17 | 2900 words) for Ladderofyears @maraudersaffair wrote There's a Wolf in My Heart for You (NC-17 | 2100) for Lumosatnight @maraudersaffair wrote The Birds and the Bees at Wintertime (PG | 1000) for Marsbar @maraudersaffair wrote Christmas Cheer at the Burrow (G | 1000 words) for Mosrael @moonpeachh wrote Purebloods Have Elf on a Shelf, Too? (G | 4487 words) for Geminifaerie @moonpeachh wrote No Two Snowflakes (G | 5660 words) for Lilbeanz @mosrael wrote Golden Bough (PG-13 | 21,124 words) for Darkravenwrote @mosrael wrote Nighthawks (PG-13 | 13555 words) for Legendrarry orpheous87 wrote What Happens in the Kiss and Cry... 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goldenlaurelleaveswrites · 1 year

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Juleka vs. the Forces of the Universe ch 14

Juleka vs. the Forces of the Girl Squad iii

Juleka vs. the Forces of the Universe (AO3)

It has been such a long time, and I wanted to start by saying thank you. From the bottom of my heart, thank you for all of your kind words and the support you've shown me. I didn't respond because honestly, I get so flustered over compliments and such things when they're reacted at me, so all of the wonderful and kind things you all said to me had me hiding under the covers. But I read every single comment. I reread them actually, when I was feeling really stressed about school they provided me with comfort. Ive actually taken pictures of them to keep on hand for when I need a reminder. But I cannot thank you all enough for the care you have shown me, and I want you all to know how much it meant to me 💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖

Now for a little bit of house keeping. The next chapter will probably take a while to go up because my break between semesters is relatively short (I finished my first semester a week ago today, and I start up again next week). Especially if it ends up being as long as this one did. I have also updated the chapter count! In all honesty, I meant to do this ages ago but I kept forgetting 😅

With all that said, again, thank you so much and I hope you enjoy 💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖

She rolled her shoulders as she made her way below deck, trying to work out all of the kinks that had made their way into her muscles as she had fought. It hadn’t been a particularly difficult battle, but it had been… annoying… Just how many times had M. Ramier been akumatized into M. Pigeon now? In the grand total of the two weeks since she had first donned the tiger miraculous, she had dealt with M. Pigeon three times now. He had to be well past fifty akumatizations by this point.

She sighed as she made her way into the kitchen, her attention laser focused on the fridge. It hadn’t been a hard battle, just a long one. And she was hungry. The light of the fridge was bright, but once she had blinked the stars from her eyes, her gaze settled on a box of pizza Luka had brought home from work the other day. She had just lifted the lid of the box when a voice broke the silence.

“Where have you been?”

Blindly, she grabbed a slice, then pushed the fridge door closed with her hip, and with the coveted slice of pizza in hand, glanced in the direction of Luka’s voice. He was sitting up on the sofa, watching her over the back of it. But as she made her way into the living area, she saw his legs were still stretched out along the length of it, like he had been sprawled out on it. He had his acoustic in his lap, and it was only then that she realized that the tv was on, the screen displaying what looked like a recap of the akuma battle. But the flickering image was silent. As was the guitar in his lap.

“It’s on mute?” she asked, ignoring his question as she glared at his legs, which were occupying the majority of the sofa.

“All the commentary was just Nadja’s usual tosh,” he said as he shifted to make room for her. “Y’know, the ‘Ladybug and Chat Noir are in love’ stuff and all that.”

“And you’re not playing?” she asked before taking a bite of the cold pizza.

Luka shrugged. “I was for a while….” He said, his voice trailing off as he began plucking at the strings. From the way his gaze drifted down to stare pensively at his guitar as his fingers deftly moved across the strings, it was obvious she was going to have to wait.

She chewed slowly as they sat in silence. Well, silence apart from his music. It was clear in the music his noodling was eliciting that he was trying to work out something he wanted to say. That was something most of her friends didn’t seem to understand about him; they all seemed to think he always knew exactly what to say. To be fair, when it came to music, he did. He was a complete and utter dork that way. And a nerd—well, music nerd— to boot. But if he needed to say something that wasn’t about music… he needed music to figure out how to say it.

It was something Marinette had understood pretty quick though…

“I’m just- I’ve been trying to figure out this song…” he finally said, his gaze still firmly on his guitar and his fingers still dancing across the strings, a familiar smile playing at his lips. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what song it was he was trying to figure out. Especially given the way his cheeks were turning pink. For all the ways Luka was different from their ma, they were similar in a few key ways. Namely, their lack of subtlety. “It’s just… I thought about what you said- what you’ve been telling me-”

“About the song.”

His hands stilled as he looked up and offered her a sheepish smile. “You were right.”

Finally, he was figuring that out. It had taken him long enough…

“But now…” he shrugged helplessly as he glanced back down as his guitar. Idly, he trailed his fingers across the strings as he stared at it thoughtfully. “I know what notes I want to play. How I want- how I hope the melody will go.”

“But you’ve committed to the notes you want to play next?” she asked, half afraid for his answer. It wouldn’t be the first time the idiot had found an excuse to designate himself to playing second fiddle. And given it felt like the Universe trying to tell him to take a backseat…

He looked up, his eyes flashing with an intensity that was strictly reserved for all things Marinette. “I didn’t want to pressure her.” A noble notion. A gallant one even. Even if he had been an idiot in the way he had gone about it. “But, you were right.” That felt nice to hear. “But then she was just so stressed. I didn’t want to be another thing for her to worry about. And now… now I’m trying to figure out the tempo of it. I don’t want to rush it. Especially not the next few notes.”

She would hardly say he was rushing things…

“But I think…” he said slowly, ducking his gaze in what appeared to be a futile attempt to hide the dopey, lovesick grin spreading across his face, “I think it’s time I asked her how she would feel about a duet.”

“‘Bout time, if you ask me.” Actually, it was way past time. In her opinion, anyway.

His head snapped up to protest, his eyes even more intense and bright against his flushed cheeks and his dopey, lovesick, Marinette smile. She couldn’t stop herself from smirking, and he seemed to immediately recognize his mistake. He ducked his head to try and hide his face, but it was too late.

She had seen the smile and the flushed cheeks. It wasn’t like he had ever done a good job of hiding that smile.

She sank back into sofa cushions, and grinning widely, took another bite of pizza. And immediately screwed up her face in disgust as a vile taste filled her mouth. Had she thought to grab a plate, she would have spat it out, but as it was, she had no choice but the swallow the offending bite. “Olives? Why did you bring home stuff with olives?”

“Serves you right,” he chuckled, though he was still trying—and failing—to hide his flushed face by inspecting his chipped nail polish.

“For what?”

“Teasing me.”

“I didn’t say anything!” Ok, maybe she had… but could he really blame her?

“You didn’t have to. You never have to,” he added as he rolled his eyes. “But you totally did.”

Ok, fair. He had a point. But still… “Rude.”

“Didn’t you check it first?”

“No, you distracted me.”

He furrowed his brows. “Y’know, you never did answer my question.”

“Hm?” she hummed as she began picking the olives off the pizza.

“Where were you? And stop that!” She just raised a brow, and then flicked another olive at him.

“I was out shopping,” she said off-handedly as she inspected the pizza for any olives she may have missed.

“I thought your big shopping trip was tomorrow…” he said. Her ears perked up at the sudden, entirely too casual tone of his voice.

“It is…” she said slowly, watching him through suspicion-narrowed eyes. “The pharmacy’s having a sale on nail polish and lipstick. I thought I would check it out.” It wasn’t a lie. She had been on her way to check out the sale when she had gotten the akuma alert. As soon as she had seen it, she had hightailed it back to where the Liberty was moored and snuck back on deck to wait in case Purple Tigress was needed. Which she had been.

“You didn’t get anything?’

She shook her head. “Probably best to wait until I have my dress before I decide on makeup and all that.” Technically, that was true too.

He hummed, and nodded as he listlessly plucked at the strings of his guitar, eliciting a tune that betrayed his casual facade.

“And you’re all going on the shopping trip.” It was obvious that wasn’t what he was really asking. Why he still insisted on beating around the bush when she knew how he felt about Marinette was beyond her.

Especially after he had just admitted he was finally going to stop being an idiot.

Well, about Marinette at least.

“Yeah. Well, the guys aren’t coming. I have no interest in dragging Kim around to look at dresses.”

Luka snorted. “That’s something I’d pay to see.” She rolled her eyes, but he just chuckled. “So…” he said slowly, drawing the word in a clear attempt to sound casual. “Marinette’s decided to go to the dance after all?”

“Why don’t you ask her yourself?” she asked, nodding to the coffee table, where his phone sat before shoving the last bite of pizza into her mouth.

He looked at it thoughtfully, and she barely fought the urge to roll her eyes. Luka wasn’t the type to ask someone to a dance over text. Especially when that someone was Marinette. Because him going to a dance with her actually meant something to him.

But maybe that would at least get the ball rolling.

“I’m going to go have a shower,” she announced, rising from the sofa. Her muscles were still stiff, and she didn’t want to be any more subjected to Luka’s lovesick sighs and dopey smiles.

***

The shade was cool on her face, and provided a much welcome refuge from the afternoon sun. It was warm, bordering on hot with only a slight breeze to keep the edge of the heat off. The sound of laughter and a Saturday in the city mingled with the coos of the pigeons that were scattered around the park. It was evident in the air that the end of June was fast approaching, and with it, the dance.

Alix drifted past her, her bored humming and the ever so slight squeak of the wheels of her heelies joining the sound of summer in the park. Slowly, she let her gaze drift down to the open group chat on her phone.

Mylène 🌼 : Running a little late!

Mylène 🌼 : The rally one overtime

Mylène 🌼 : went

Rose 🌹💗: no problem!! 😊😊😊

Mylène 🌼 : on my way now

Mylène 🌼 : meet at the park?

Alya 🦊?!: sure meet you there

She sighed as she settled herself more comfortably against the tree she was leaning against, and let her gaze drift up. Rose was scrolling through her pinterest board of her vision for what she would wear to the dance, asking for Marinette’s opinion on the various ideas she had posted to it. Marinette was animatedly pointing to things on the screen of Rose’s phone, and though she hadn’t caught all of it, from the sounds of it she was explaining what silhouettes and shapes would best suit Rose.

She couldn’t help but smile at the sight. A couple of weeks ago, she hadn’t been sure when she would see Marinette smile again. At times, it had felt more like a question of ‘if’ than ‘when.’ She could tell Marinette was still stressed; her friend, though much more lively ever since Tigress came onto the scene, was still bit quieter than usual. More subdued.

But still…

She was smiling again. And that was a victory in and of itself.

And if Luka was finally getting some sense into that thick head of his… hopefully, Marinette would have a lot more to smile about soon.

Her gaze drifted from Marinette to take in the vivid greens of the park before stopping to land on Alya.

Alya was furiously typing away on her phone, her brows furrowed in concentration. She had said she was working on her next post for the Ladyblog… Part of her really wanted to give her fired the benefit of the doubt. And it was entirely possible that she was typing that furiously because she was writing another article. Chat Noir had been mentioning he and Ladybug—with a very pointed lack of mention of any other heroes—should do another interview with the Ladyblog. Ladybug had been noncommittal, but maybe she had ended up agreeing to it.

But no matter how much she hoped that was what Alya was typing, she wasn’t feeling particularly optimistic. Especially given Alya’s reaction when Marinette had announced she would go to the dance after all…

“So,” Alya said with a definitive air as she looked up from her phone with a smile. “I figured we would start at Genevieve Consignment, that way we can work our way down the street and hit all the best second-hand places first. Then we can go to the department and specialty stores as we make our way to that fabric store you like, Marinette.”

“And we’re getting dinner, right?”

“Yes, then we can grab dinner. Sound good?”

“Sounds perfect to me!” Rose chirped.

Alix shrugged. “As long as we’re getting dinner, I’m good.”

“We can skip the fabric store this time, though.”

“Oh, already found the perfect fabric for your dress?” Alya asked, the beginnings of a knowing Cheshire smile spreading across her face.

Marinette shook her head. “No, I’m not making one.” The grin quickly dropped from Alya’s face as Marinette continued. “I was just going to buy one.”

“What?” A group of passing tourists shot Rose bewildered looks at the sound of her shriek. “But you always make your dresses!”

Despite knowing what she knew, she couldn’t help but be surprised herself. Not to the degree she would have been if she didn’t know certain secrets. But still…

Before she was able to muster her words, Alix cocked her head to the side and said, “But at the Winter Formal you were all excited about making your dress for the next dance.”

“What about Adrien?” Alya cried, “He complimented your dress at the Winter Formal. Don’t you want to impress him with another design?” Forget Adrien, what about the fact that one of Marinette’s favourite things to design was formal dresses? “Just think, he’d see you in a beautiful dress you made and he would see how incredible and talented you are and it would be perfect!” Yeah. Sure. Just like the last three dances… “It’s going to be the nigh, I just know it! It needs to be special!”

“Hey girls! Sorry I’m… what’s all the commotion about?” Mylène’s voice trailed off as she drew closer to them, her brows furrowing as her gaze darted between their faces.

“Marinette says she isn’t making her dress for the dance!” Alya announced.

“What? But why?”

Finally, the obvious question.

Marinette shrugged. “I don’t have the time. The dance is in two weeks.”

“But what about Adrien?”

An odd look flickered across Marinette’s face at Alya’s question. But before Marinette could say anything, Mylène gently bumped Marinette with her hip. “Don’t worry, Marinette,” Mylène said comfortingly, “I’m sure we can find a dress that’ll impress Adrien.”

Marinette blinked at Mylène. “I don’t want to stress about impressing anyone, I just want to find a dress I like.”

“We’ll make sure we find you the most perfect dress ever, right girls?”

“That’s the point of this trip, isn’t it?”

“Hey,” Alya said as she slung her arm around Marinette’s shoulders, “Maybe it won’t be as amazing as something you’d make, but we’re going to find the perfect dress! Adrien won’t know what hit him!”

Taking that as their rallying cry, Alix glided ahead. “C’mon slowpokes,” she cried over her shoulder, leaving the rest of them no choice but to follow.

She tried to catch Marinette’s eye as they started out, but she was sandwiched between Alya and Mylène. Marinette had said she wanted to find a dress she liked. But she had a sinking suspicion the search was going to end up binge for a dress Adrien would like.

“This is going to be so much fun!” Rose squealed as she sidled up beside her.

Despite the rather sour thoughts swirling in her head—and her suspicions that were quickly sinking toward the pit in her stomach—she couldn’t help at smile at Rose’s infectious enthusiasm and sunny smile. “It’s going to be a big day,” she agreed.

She was looking forward to spending the afternoon with her friends. Despite her ever-growing frustrations and resentment toward their habit of shoving Adrien into the epicentre of most of their hangouts, they were still her friends. And she was never one to say no to a shopping trip. Especially to second hand places, which they were hitting first at Mylène’s insistence. You never knew what treasures you could find in them.

But…

She bit back a sigh. She was glad Marinette was going to the dance; she had been really worried when Marinette had shown so little interest in it. She understood why Marinette hadn’t been focused on it, but she had still been worried. Marinette loved school dances. She loved any chance to celebrate something.

So it had been a relief when Marinette had announced she would go to the dance after all.

But it seemed the question of what Marinette was going to wear to the dance had brought a whole new host of problems…

***

“What about these?” She looked up from the box of gloves she was rifling through, looking for the match to the black lace opera glove she had found, at the sound of Alya’s voice, just in time to see her push a couple of dresses into Marinette’s hands.

Marinette looked down at the dresses in her hands. A look of apprehension settled over her faces as she held up the two dresses. “I don’t know, they’re not really my style-”

“Exactly!”

What?

“It never hurts to try new things, right?”

“I guess…” Marinette said, eyeing the dresses dubiously as she meandered toward the dressings rooms with Alya trailing closely after her.

“Besides,” Alya added slyly , “If you try something new, Adrien will have to notice you!”

Marinette froze in the entry to the dressing room. With the curtain still open, she could see the mirror inside the dressing room. And in the mirror, she caught a glimpse of a grimace twisting its way onto Marinette’s face before her friend slid the curtain shut behind her.

If Alya noticed the lack of response, she didn’t say anything. Instead, all she called out was, “Make sure you come out and show us!” before whipping out her phone.

She bit back a groan as she turned her attention back to the box of gloves with a scowl, though she did her best to hide it. At least if any of the girls noticed, she could blame it on having a hard time finding the matching glove.

She should have expected this. She should have planned for this. Because of course, the question of what Marinette would wear would end up being focused on Adrien. Especially given the hints Alya had been dropping about how Adrien didn’t have a date for the dance yet and how his father was actually allowing him to attend were as subtle as akuma costumes. So far, Marinette had brushed those hints off with hummed acknowledgements and deflections. But she wasn’t sure how much longer that would last.

And, much to her frustration, she hadn’t been able to do much about it.

Every time she managed to subtly redirect the conversation to a different topic, it would eventually—inevitably—circle back to Adrien. And it wasn’t just Alya, though she was definitely spearheading the efforts. The rest of the girls were dropping hints too. If it could even be called that at this point…

But the point of the matter was, she was completely outnumbered.

Honestly, she had been for a long time.

Yeah, Aimee had been able to help her with the photoshoot scheme. But Aimee was busy with her own stuff, especially now that she was working for Marinette’s parents as their social media manager and photographer. Aimee helped her when and where she could, but it wasn’t often. And even when she could help it was still just the two of them.

Her ma didn’t mind running interference when she was on board the Liberty, but that was as far as she would go. Besides, involving her ma would be like setting off fireworks in a library.

She sighed. If only she was able to get more help. But there wasn’t really anyone else she could go to…

The guys… she grimaced. Kim was an obvious no; the whole Ondine debacle had made it clear Kim wasn’t the most… in touch with the nuances of romance. Add in the fact that Kim was the opposite of subtle…

Max wasn’t an option either. While he could probably make a great spreadsheet of all the reasons why Luka and Marinette were so much better for each other than Adrien and Marinette were, somehow, she couldn’t see him being super into the scheming and meddling.

Nathaniel was a no too. He was too busy with his comic. And weirdly, he seemed to like the idea of Adrien and Marinette getting together.

Ivan? Marinette had helped him get together with Mylène. She wouldn’t be surprised if he wanted to return the favour. But while he was friends with Luka, and in the band to boot, the problem was that he was also Mylène’s boyfriend. Which meant she had definitely told him all the ‘reasons’ Marinette should be with Adrien. No, Ivan was too close to this.

And Nino? Nino was an obvious no. Even if he at least had the decency to look embarrassed—hopefully he actually was—every time he was involved in a plot, he was still involved. And if push came to shove, she knew he would side with Alya over common sense.

Adrien- she wasn’t even going to go there.

But that was all the guys in class. And none of them were even close to being potential allies.

She sighed again as she let her gaze drift over the consignment store as she blindly rifled through the hodge-podge of gloves. She was losing hope fast.

Her gaze landed on Alix, who was picking through a bunch of shoes displayed in a bookcase with an air of disinterest.

Alix? Alix was a tough one. On one hand, she wasn’t afraid to say it like it was. If she pointed out how bad Adrien and Marinette would be together, she might actually listen and come to the same realization she had. On the other hand, Alix, while being the least invested in the plots, was still invested. And even if Alix did decide to jump ship, there was no guarantee she would help her. And if she did, subtlety would be out of the question.

No. Alix wasn’t an option.

Her eyes found Mylène just as her friend was going into a dressing room with a few dresses draped over her arm. There was no way Mylène would stand up against Alya. And Mylène fully supported the Adrienette ship in her own right, so it was a double no for her.

She glanced at Alya, who was still standing by the dressing rooms, grinning down at her phone screen. There was no point even considering Alya, given she was the one who led the charge on all the Adrien schemes in the first place…

Which just left Rose.

She sighed as her gaze dropped back down to the box of gloves.

She loved Rose with all her heart, and she wanted nothing more than to bring her in on her plans. And there was no doubt in her mind that Rose would fully support Marinette and Luka if she knew how they felt about each other, and how much happier they would be together. But there were two problems; she couldn’t bring Rose in without betraying Luka and Marinette’s trust, because Rose would ask questions. Rose would want to know all the details, even the ones she had sworn to secrecy. Even the ones Marinette didn’t know she knew…

The other problem was that Rose was in love with love. Yes, she would undoubtedly support Marinette and Luka. But she also still fully supported Marinette and Adrien because she was blinded by the romance. Blinded by the ‘made for each other’ narrative that Alya sold with every breath she took.

Halfheartedly, she pushed the last few gloves around not expecting to find anything. A flash of black half buried under a chartreuse suede glove caught her eye. Carefully, she shifted the mass of gloves to unearth the match to the glove.

At least she had found one of the things she was looking for…

“What do you think?” She snapped her attention up at the sound of Rose’s voice just in time to see Rose burst out of one of the dressing rooms, wearing a pink sequinned romper. “Is it too much?” she asked as she struck a pose.

Despite her heavy thoughts, she couldn’t help but smile. “For you? Never,” she murmured, eliciting a blinding beam from her girlfriend.

“Good, because I love it!” Rose squealed with a shimmy that made her and her outfit sparkle. “Those are cute,” she said, gesturing to the glove in her hand. “Are you going to get them?”

“Yeah. I-”

“Marinette!” She and Rose both turned at the sound of Alya’s voice. Marinette had emerged from the dressing room. Wearing her own clothes and with the dresses in hand. “How come you didn’t come out to show us?”

Marinette shrugged as she deposited the dresses on the rail for cloths to be returned to the shop floor. “They weren’t right.”

***

The metallic sound of hangers sliding against metal filled the air as she and Marinette rifled through the racks of dresses. They were on their fifth shop now, and neither of them had found dresses yet. A little further down the aisle, Alya was rifling through a display, muttering something to Rose and Mylène, but her words were lost in the distance between them.

Something between a sigh and a groan escaped Marinette as she slid a few more dresses along the rail, the hangers clattering together from the force with which she had shoved them. “This is hopeless!”

“Can’t you just wear something you already have?” She and Marinette both glanced up as Alix rolled toward them on her heelies, carting a silver and green windbreaker and a pair of ripped jeans along with her. “It seems like a simple fix if you can’t find anything you like. Didn’t Adrien say he liked that purple dress you wore the other week?” Alix asked as she stopped to pick through the rail opposite the ones that held the dresses.

Alix, her back turned and her attention on the row of clothes opposite, missed the way Marinette’s face soured at the mention of Adrien’s name.

“That’s a day dress, it’s not really an occasion dress.”

“Ok, what about one of the things you made for your shop? Or the dress you wore to the winter dance?”

Marinette shook her head. “All of that is too casual. I don’t want to be underdressed! And the dress I wore to the winter dance is made of velvet, it would be way too hot.”

Alix shrugged. “Well, if you’re not going to make yourself something or wear something you already have, keep looking. I’m sure you’ll find something. You’re the one that said there’s all sorts of hidden gems in these places,” Alix said, turning to motion to the racks of clothes in the thrift shop. “I found these,” Alix added, holding up her finds as if to prove her point.

“Those don’t look like dance clothes.”

She turned. Rose had come up behind her, and was surveying the clothes Alix was holding, her head tilted to the side and her brows furrowed.

“I’m wearing the suit Mari made me for the fall formal.”

“But you’ve worn it to the last two dances!” Rose cried.

“Yeah, cause it rocks. And black is a classic.”

“Thanks,” Marinette said quietly, her words almost lost to Rose’s squealed protests.

“But-“

“I’m ditching the jacket and wearing a different shirt, so it’ll look different. Oh, by the way, there’s a sequinned bag back that way.”

The allure of a glittery accessory was too much for Rose, who darted in the direction Alix had nodded, throwing a hurried thanks over her shoulder.

“Well,” Alix said matter of factly, “I’m going to go try these on.” And then she was gone, rolling toward the dressing rooms. She watched as Alix’s shock of pink hair disappeared behind a rack of clothing.

“I guess she’s right…” Marinette mumbled. She turned back to look at her friend, who was looking at the rail of dresses with a rather gloomy expression. They had been going through the entire rail, ignoring the size categories as the inventory was jumbled together . And there had been plenty of nice dresses, some really nice ones that were in Marinette’s size that had been in the wrong section. But Marinette had taken them rather reluctantly, and without her usual enthusiasm that came with shopping for clothes.

Slowly, Marinette began flicking through the dresses again.

She opened her mouth. And then closed it. Right from the get go, Marinette had insisted she wouldn’t be making her dress for this dance. When pressed by the girls, had said she just didn’t have time for making a dress. That was unsurprising, given everything. But that didn’t explain why she was so unenthused about the whole shopping process. She doubted all the Adrien comments Alya—and the rest of the girls—kept dropping every time Marinette even so much as picked up a dress were helping matters. But she couldn’t help but feel there was something more to Marinette’s disinterest in dress shopping…

“That one is nice,” she said quietly, nodding her head to the floral chiffon dress Marinette was examining. It was nice. It was a perfectly nice dress. The design was a little bland and the colour was a little boring, but it was nice enough for a dance.

“Yeah, it’s fine,” Marinette sighed noncommittally.

“But…?”

Marinette shrugged listlessly as she took the dress off the rail and went back to flicking through the dresses. “I guess I won’t know until I try it. It’s just… it’s silly.”

“I bet it isn’t.” They were nearing the end of the last rack of dresses, and they had pitiful results so far to show for their effort. Marinette had taken only three dresses, and none of them had been met with much enthusiasm. She had grabbed a couple, but to be honest, she wasn’t all that concerned with what she would wear. She had a bunch of black dresses she could wear to the dance. It wasn’t like anyone would notice if she wore an old dress, given she always wore black to school dances. It was a classic for a reason.

Marinette bit her lip as stared steadfastly at the rail as she continued to search through the dresses. She could tell Marinette was weighing her words, trying to decide how best to say whatever it was she needed to say, by the way she stared so intently at the clothes on the rail. “Well…” she said slowly, a faint flush creeping up on her face, “it’s just that- it’s- it’s perfect!”

“What-“ she was cut off by Marinette’s squeal as her friend pulled a dress from the rack. And then shoved it into her hands…

She had been hoping Marinette had found a dress for herself. But…

Looking at the dress, she had to admit, it was perfect. Even if she was a little peeved Marinette hadn’t found a dress for herself. Slowly, she ran a hand along the silky fabric. Sprays of thorny roses had been woven into the fabric; the subtle black on black design almost seemed to shift under the store lights. It would look incredible under the lights of the dance.

“Oh, are you going to try that on?” She looked up from the dress to see Mylène wandering toward them, her arms laden with dresses.

She glanced back down at the dress. “Yeah, I am.”

“What did you find, Mylène?” Marinette brushed past her to look at the dresses Mylene had selected. “That one is really pretty!”

“Yeah,” Mylène sighed happily as she held up the dress. “Sunflowers are my favourite. Ivan’s too. So I’m hoping the fit will be good.” Mylène settled the dress back over her arm. “What did you find, Mari?”

“Not much,” Marinette sighed, her enthusiasm instantly waning the moment the topic shifted to her dress selections.

“That one is nice,” Mylène offered tentatively as Marinette shuffled through the scant few dresses she had found.

“It’s ok,” Marinette said half-heartedly. “But I guess we should go try things on. Unless you’re not done looking, Jules…”

“No. No I’m good to try things on now,” she mumbled, her brows furrowing as Marinette and Mylène both turned and headed in the direction of the dressing rooms. Judging from the way Mylène not so subtly kept looking at Marinette, it was obvious Marinette’s lack of enthusiasm wasn’t lost on her either.

She trailed after them, chewing her lip as she went. Marinette’s enthusiasm had quickly dwindled throughout the afternoon. Usually, Marinette adored thrifting and shopping in general. But she had been… listless. Or at least, when it came to shopping for herself. Every time her attention was turned to what someone else might try on, Marinette was bright and excited. But the second it came to her outfit…

“Look at what I found!” She emerged from the end of the aisle in time to see Alya rushing toward them, with Rose quickly trailing after her. Rose’s arms were laden with her own shopping bags, and what looked like dresses Alya had pulled for herself. Alya was brandishing two hangers; from one hung a swirly looking skirt the colour of ripe tangerines, and from the other hung a matching crop top. “Isn’t it great? I saw it on the rack one of the employees had just brought out from the back!”

“That colour would be gorgeous on you!” Marinette gushed as she reached out to examine the fabric of the skirt.

Alya preened. “Thanks. I mean, I still have to try it on, and I’ll try on the rest of the stuff I found but… I think it’s going to be the one! What did you find, girl?”

“Oh, you know, just a couple dresses. Should we?” she asked, nodding toward the dressing rooms.

“Absolutely,” Alya said as she shifted her newest find to one hand so she could take the bundle of dresses from Rose. “Thanks. Now come on!”

“You all have to come out and show us!” Rose squealed, already pulling her phone out, no doubt to summon Alix.

Mylène and Alya were already heading into dressing rooms. As she and Marinette headed toward the last free ones, she shot Marinette an encouraging smile. Marinette returned it with a smile of her own that wavered only a little before turning to fully disappear into her dressing room. She tugged the curtain of her own dressing room shut.

She made quick work of changing out her own clothes, and then she stepped into the dress. She tugged up the zip before stepping back to examine her reflection. The skirt was slim but… she gave an experimental swivel of her hips; it still had enough of a flare to flow nicely around her legs with a satisfying swish. It would be perfect for dancing. She turned and looked back over her shoulder to examine the reflection of the back of the dress. The narrow straps separated at the top of her shoulders, turning from single straps to three thinner ones that criss-crossed over her back in a woven pattern that reminded her vaguely of a spiderweb.

She turned to fully face the mirror again, and let a slow smile crawl across her face as she fished the gloves she had bought out of her bag. She slipped the gloves on, and her smile turned to a grin.

It was perfect.

All she needed was shoes and… she tilted her head side to side. A choker would be the perfect touch. A lace one maybe…

That was something she could do easily enough herself.

Her smile grew as she heard Rose squeal from the other side of the curtain. Quietly, she drew back the curtain. Alya was wearing the crop top and skirt set, and she was positively glowing as she struck a pose.

“What do you think?”

“It looks amazing, Alya!” Rose gushed, her eyes sparkling.

“It looks really great on you!” Mylène offered quietly. She hadn’t seen Mylène emerge, but she was standing there in the floral dress, her usually shy smile wider than usual.

“You look awesome too, girl!”

“You both look great,” Alix piped up from where she was sprawled on a bench by the entrance to the dressing room area.

“Yeah,” she said quietly as she stepped out of the dressing room. “Those really suit you both.”

The second the words left her mouth, four pairs of eyes snapped toward her. They were all silent. She could feel the weight of their gaze on her. A couple of months ago, with so many eyes trained directly on her, her shoulders would have been hunching and curling in, and her hands would have been itching to fidget with her skirt. But now-

“Bijou!” It was fortunate there was no glass nearby, Rose’s squeal was so high-pitched. “You look gorgeous!”

“That dress is perfect for you!”

“You look incredible!”

Her cheeks were growing warm under the force of their praise. “Thanks,” she murmured.

“Hey, Mari!” Alix shouted, ignoring the looks of other shoppers nearby, “get out here and take a look!”

Marinette poked her head out from behind the curtain, and her face lit up. “I knew it! I knew that dress would be perfect for you! You look incredible!”

“Thank you.” She couldn’t stop the grin from crawling across her face at Marinette’s praise.

Marinette’s gaze drifted over to Alya and Mylène, thought she remained awkwardly hidden behind the curtain, with only her head sticking out. “You both look incredible too!” she gushed. “Please tell me you’re all getting those!”

“Girl, I don’t know if I’m even going to take it off!” Alya laughed as she twirled. “I might just have to wear it out!”

“But then it won’t be special!” Rose protested.

“I’m definitely getting mine!”

“So are you going to come out, or what, girl?” Alya asked, still laughing gleefully.

“I’ll be out in a minute,” Marinette promised before snapping the curtain closed.

She frowned. The look in Marinette’s eye at the mention of her coming out of the dressing room…

She hadn’t been particularly optimistic about any of the dresses, given Marinette’s reaction to them. Still, she had hoped that Marinette would like something. At least enough to show the rest of them.

But the sound of the curtain of Marinette’s dressing room sliding open dashed what shreds of hope she had left.

“Nothing?” Rose asked, her face falling.

Marinette shook her head, looking both disappointed and defeated as she hung the rejected dresses on the rack by the end of the line of dressing rooms. “Let’s check out the shoe store around the corner, I think I could do with a break from trying on dresses…”

***

The second she had pushed the door open to the shoe store and made room for the rest of their group to enter, Alix made a beeline for the display of sneakers. Rose took Mylène by the arm and hauled her toward the back of the store, where there was a display of glittering party shoes. Alya was hot on their heels, already exclaiming over a pair in the display.

Marinette hung back, lingering by the display stand right by the entrance. So she hung back too.

“Those are fun,” she murmured, nodding to the pump Marinette had picked up, and was absently turning over in her hands.

Marinette shrugged. “It’s fine,” she said quietly, before putting it back down and drifting toward one of the side walls. She trailed silently after her. Marinette stopped in front of another display, this one made up of scrappy sandals in a rainbow of colours. Marinette picked up a silver pair and smiled at them before putting them back down. “What about those?” she asked, pointing to a pair of black sandals.

“For you or me?” Marinette raised a brow, and then rolled her eyes and smiled in mock exasperation . “They’re cute. But I already have a flat pair like that. Honestly,” she said, dropping her voice, “I probably didn’t even need to come on this trip. I have a ton of stuff I could wear, and it all goes together.”

“The beauty of black,” Marinette said, nodding sagely. But then a little grin worked its way onto her face. “But if you hadn’t come you wouldn’t have gotten those gloves. Or the dress…”

“Touché.”

“Though…” Marinette hummed, “there’s no way I would have left that dress on the rack. Not when it’s so you.”

“That’s why you’re the best.” Marinette waved her off, smiling as she picked up another heeled sandal to examine it. “But honestly, I don’t need to buy any shoes. Not unless they’re something special. You know?”

“Yeah,” Marinette sighed as she put down yet another shoe before heading toward the next display.

She followed closely behind. They examined the next two displays in relative silence. The others drifted by, toting boxes of shoes to try or teetering past in shoes they were testing out. After another rejected pair of shoes, and once the coast was relatively clear, she leaned in a little closer beside Marinette.

“You don’t really seem to be all that into this. Is everything ok? Back at the last place, you were saying something when you found my dress. What was it?” she asked quietly.

Marinette looked up in surprise, but then her face softened and her cheeks flushed. “I’ve been thinking about what you said, about what I want…”

“Yeah?”

“I want to go after it. I want to design my own dress and go to the dance with-“ Marinette cut herself off as she ducked her head. But she didn’t miss the deepening flush in her friend’s cheeks. It was kind of cute how Mari and Luke were still so bashful talking about their feelings with her. It was infuriating. But cute. “But I have this… this vision of what the night would look like. What I would wear, who I would go with… Assuming he would would say yes.”

As if he would ever say no. If anything, the thing Marinette should have been worrying about was the likelihood of Luka accidentally skipping the whole ‘first date’ thing and proposing to her on the spot. But given Marinette’s past experiences with romance and her brother’s noble yet idiotic attempts to not pressure Marinette… she could see why her friend was feeling apprehensive.

“Were you- were you going to ask him?” she asked quietly.

Marinette gave a shallow nod of her head. “I was thinking about it. I want to. But it’s just-” Marinette turned to look at her with a wry, half-smile, “it’s scary, you know?”

“Yeah,” she agreed quietly. She did know. If Rose hadn’t made the first move, she probably never would have worked up the courage to ask her out herself. And she had had it so much easier, compared to Marinette. No one had shoved a supposed soulmate in her face while she was pining after Rose. “But if it’s any consolation,” she continued, weighing her words carefully. Her brother may have been more obvious that flashing neon lights, but he had still admitted his feelings for Marinette to her in confidence. “I don’t think you need to worry about him saying no.”

“Maybe…“ Marinette sighed, her eyes drifting toward the other side of the shop where the rest of the girls were and a frown twisting on her lips.”But even if he does say yes, I don’t have time to make my dress and…”

“Nothing is living up to your vision?” she offered.

Marinette nodded. “It’s just, nothing is quite right,” she groaned as she picked up a silver shoe. She had picked that one up three times already; it was a silver kitten heel with an open toe and a small crystal embellishment on it. She had been gravitating to that pair for a while now.

“Those seem to be telling you they’re right,” she quipped, quirking a half grin at Marinette when she glanced down at the shoe in her hands and then back up at her.

“Yeah, I really like them.”

“But?”

“But I don’t want to get a pair before I have my dress-“

“Oh, those are cute, Marinette!” Mylène said as she made her way over, only wobbling slightly in the wedges she was wearing. “I bet Adrien would think they are too!” Marinette had been doing a pretty good job so far of hiding the sour look that came across her face every time the blond came up, but cracks were starting to show in her facade. “What do you two think of these?”

“I like them,” she murmured, looking down at the woven wedges.

“Me too. But you might want to try a pair with ankle straps, they’ll stay on better when you’re dancing.”

“Oh, good point. Thanks!” She watched as Mylène went back to the other side of the store. Once all of her friends were out of ear shot again, she turned and dropped her voice.

“I take it the Adrien comments aren’t helping.”

Marinette shook her head. “I told them I didn’t want to try and impress anyone but…”

“They’re committed,” she sighed.

Speaking of committed…

“What did you find, girl?” Alya asked as she sidled up beside Marinette. “Oooh, those are great!” she added as she picked up the matching silver shoe from the display.

“Yeah, I really like them,” Marinette said, a wistful note in her voice as she smiled down at the shoe in her hand.

“You have to get them! Just think, Adrien’s always wearing that silver ring of his and…” Alya trailed off as he whipped out her phone and began typing. As Alya’s fingers flew across the keyboard on her phone screen, a pit began to form in her stomach. A second later, Alya’s phone dinged and her face lit up like the sky on Bastille Day. “Look!” Alya said as she shoved her phone into hers and Marinette’s faces. “That’s what Nino said Adrien is going to wear to the dance. You could match!”

She had to bite back a frown as she stared at the picture on Alya’s screen. It was of a suit spread out on what she assumed was Adrien’s bed. The jacket and pants were black, and the shirt was a stark, crisp white. Beside the suit was a pair of black dress shoes with silver buckles in the shape of the Agreste logo and a matching belt.

“If you wear these,” Alya continued, waving the silver show she was holding, “you can match Adrien. Even better!” Alya gasped. “You wear these and-“

“I’m not buying shoes until I have a dress,” Marinette said crisply as she put the shoe she was holding back down on the display with a note of finality.

“But Marinette-“

“I don’t want to buy shoes until I have a dress.” Marinette said emphatically. “I don’t want to end up with a dress and shoes that don’t go together.”

“But if you get a white dress you could match. And white would go-“

“There’s no guarantee I’ll find a dress to go with these.” Marinette said, her voice firm.

The fact that Marinette had left out the mention of a white dress did not escape her. Though it was hard to tell if Alya had noticed as well.

“Not if you keep shutting down everything you try on before you give it a real chance,” Alya groaned.

“I’ve been trying stuff on…”

“Yeah, but you haven’t shown any of the things you’ve tried on to us!”

“Nothing was worth showing.”

“See! This is what I mean! You aren’t going to make your own dress, but you’re not giving any of the dresses you’ve tried a proper chance… I still can’t believe you aren’t going to make your dress!” Alya said as she held up a pair of black pumps, frowned, then put them back down.

“I don’t have time. And, I don’t have a design! Even if I started now and kept the design simple, two weeks isn’t a lot of time.”

“But you have a sketchbook full of designs!”

“None for a dance though.”

“Whatever you say,” Alya sighed, with a rather disbelieving note in her voice. “But you need to wear something.”

“I know…” Marinette grumbled.

Something between a sigh and laugh escaped Alya. She wrapped an arm around Marinette’s shoulders, he face softening as she did so. “Don’t worry girl, we’ll find you something amazing to wear that’ll be sure to catch Adrien’s attention. And knock his socks off while we’re at it.” Alya looked away from Marinette to meet her eyes. “Right, Juleka?”

She hesitated. Just for a moment. A second, really. It wasn’t like she was going to agree with Alya. Well, not word for word at least… Something flashed through Alya’s eyes. It was so quick, she would have missed it if she hadn’t been looking.

“We’ll make sure you have something beautiful to wear,” she said carefully before smiling encouragingly at Marinette.

“Thanks, guys.”

Alya grinned. “Don’t worry, I promise Adrien won’t know what hit him!”

Marinette smiled—what seemed a pretty forced smile that didn’t reach her eyes— but said nothing.

“Alya!” They all looked up and across the store at the sound of Rose’s voice. Rose was haphazardly waving a shoe around, oblivious to Mylène’s attempts to get her to stop shouting and waving. “You have to come try these on! They’ll go great with your outfit!” Rose cried, brandishing a gold shoe.

“Coming!” Alya called, taking a step toward the rest of the girls before turning to look back over her shoulder. “You two coming?”

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Marinette trying to think of something to say.

“In a minute,” she said quietly. “I want to finish checking out the stuff over here.”

“Marinette?”

“Same. We’ll let you know if we see anything else you might want to try on.”

“Sounds good,” Alya said with a smile that didn’t quite meet her eyes. And it definitely wasn’t her imagination. Alya’s gaze lingered on her for a second before she turned to hurry over toward Rose, Mylène, and Alix.

She watched Alya go, her stomach sinking a little with every step Alya took. That had been…

She shook her head, and turned back to Marinette. Marinette had started wandering further toward the back of the store. With a sigh, and another shake of her head, she followed.

Marinette had said that she didn’t have time to design and make a dress. It had to be because of Ladybug stuff, right? She definitely seemed less overwhelmed than she had a couple of weeks ago. Marinette was calling on her a lot for akuma battles, which were now taking way less time than usual. So that had to be helping. But…

It couldn’t just be the akuma battles that were eating up her time.

But what other duties there were that was keeping Marinette so busy. She knew there were the patrols Ladybug did to keep an eye on the city… She bit her lip. A couple days ago, after they had wrapped up a battle, she had caught the tail end of an argument between Ladybug and Chat Noir. He had been complaining about how things had changed ever since she became the ‘guardian.’ It sounded important, but she didn’t really know what being a guardian entailed. Or how much it was adding to Marinette’s already overflowing plate.

Surreptitiously, she glanced around the store. Alya, Rose, and Mylène were at the far, front corner of the store trying on shoes. Alix was listless wandering around looking at the sneakers. All of them—and what few other shoppers were in the store—were all out of ear shot.

“Your job still keeping you busy?” she asked quietly as she picked up a shoe and pretended to examine it. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched as Marinette cast a quick glance around the store before nodding.

“Yeah. I took your advice. I was able to bring in another t- coworker. And she’s doing really well. She’s helping a lot.” She willed the flush beginning to brew in her face to subside. Marinette didn’t know that she knew what her job was. “But it’s still keeping me busy.”

“Oh?” she asked casually as she put the shoe down and picked up a pump that she didn’t even bother to pretend to look at.

“I’ve still got a lot of shifts I have to cover. I… I want to see how she handles more responsibilities, but I feel like it’s too early to ask more from her. She’s still new, and I don’t want to rush her or throw her in the deep end.”

“Would it hurt to ask? I mean, worst case scenario she isn’t ready.” But that wouldn’t happen. She would be ready for anything if need be.

“I guess… but even if she said yes, two weeks still isn’t much time… I would have to make the design and draft the pattern. And I don’t like using new patterns without a mockup first. And I would have to find fabric…”

She smiled at the sight of Marinette’s face, which was already morphing into the dreamy yet laser focused smile she always wore when slipped into the her own little world of designs and dresses and fabrics.

“I bet you’d pull together something amazing, even if it is only two weeks. You always do.”

Marinette blushed. “Thanks. I’d have to see if she says yes,” she hummed.

Of course she would say yes. But, “If she doesn’t, you know can always ask me for help, right?” It couldn’t hurt to remind Marinette she and Ladybug could rely on her.

“I know,” she said quietly, “and I don’t think I can ever tell you how much it means.”

She shrugged. “It’s what friends are for.”

“Well, you’re the best,” she said, leaning against her in an approximation of a hug before she bolted upright. She took a few hurried steps to the next display over and grabbed something—a pair of shoes she presumed though the store also sold bags—before whirling around. “What do you think of these?”

“They’re awesome. But I didn’t think those would really be your style-“

“Not for me! For you!” Marinette laughed as she held the shoes out to her.

Tentatively, she took them. They were incredible. They were open-toed sandals with straps that laced up around the ankle with straps made from a sheer black mesh, embroidered all over with black roses and twisting, thorny vines. Little black rhinestones were scattered across the straps, and packed onto the heels of the shoes, catching the light and glimmering. They were gorgeous.

But…

“I don’t know, I don’t really wear heels…” She had always felt out of place, being taller than so many of her classmates. And yeah, boys thinking she was too tall was the last thing she was worried about, but… she frowned. She had never really known how to carry herself; being so tall tended to draw a degree of attention—and comments—she had never really been comfortable with. And so she had always slumped and hunched her shoulders, and avoided adding extra height at all costs.

She had…

“Oh, that’s ok then. I just thought they would look amazing on you-“

But a tigress didn’t care what other people thought.

“But it wouldn’t hurt to try,” she said, kneeling down to look for a box in her size. Once she had the shoebox in hand, she sat on the closest bench, kicked her shoes off, and slipped the heels on. Once she had secured the straps around her legs, she stood up. The heel wasn’t too high, but between the heel and the platform… she was towering.

“Bijou!” Rose squealed, tottering over on sparkly pink heels that were far too tall for her girlfriend to walk in without risking breaking an ankle. “You look amazing!! You’re so tall!”

Tentatively, she took a few steps in them. They were comfortable. She would still be able to walk and dance in them. And… Tigress didn’t wear heels. Fighting akumas in heels was just asking for disaster. But somehow, they still felt like Tigress’s boots. They were grounding, but agile.

They were powerful.

“Those really suit you,” Marinette said, grinning.

“Yeah,” she said quietly as she took a few more steps, a smile forming on her own face as she watched the light bounce off the crystals, “they do.”

***

“C’mon girl, what’s wrong with that one?”

Marinette glanced at the reflection and wrinkled her nose. “It’s just… it’s not right.”

Personally, she had to agree with Marinette. It was a nice enough dress. It looked nice on Marinette. But it just wasn’t anything special. It couldn’t even hold a candle to the dresses Marinette usually made for herself for school dances.

But at least Marinette had come out of the dressing room to show them this one.

“I still don’t get why you aren’t just making one.”

“Well-“

“I know, I know, you don’t have time. But can’t you reuse a pattern or something? You need to wear something.”

“I know-“

“What about that one?” Alya asked, pointing to the floral dress she had found and shoved into Marinette’s hands. “Daisies are Adrien’s favourite flower…” Alya sang as her words trailed off, her grin wide and the promise of yet another scheme in her voice.

“I don’t like daisies very much. And-”

“I still think you should just wear the purple one,” Alix said from where she was sprawled in one of the chairs by the dressing rooms. “We already know he thinks it looks good on you.”

“It’s not formal enough though. Besides, I-“

“He’s already seen her wear that one. If she’s going to get his attention, we need something show stopping. Something that will make him notice. Like his favourite flowers, or-“

“He likes cats, so what about this one?” Rose asked, holding up a bubblegum pink dress with white cats printed all over it.

“I think that one’s more your style, Rose,” Marinette said. “And I don’t-“

“Oh good, I was worried if you got it you wouldn’t want me to borrow it later since you’ll be wearing it on such a big night.” Before anyone could say anything more, Rose zipped into the nearest open dressing room.

“What about this one?” Mylène asked from where she had been rifling through the rack of clothes that hadn’t been returned to the shop floor yet. She was holding up a white dress that had horizontal black stripes running across it, except for at the bottom hem where the stripers were thick, short and vertical. Almost like-

“It’s perfect!” Alya cried as she rushed over the Mylène to take the dress from her hands and inspect it. Oh no. “It’s like sheet music and piano keys! And it matches what he’s going to wear!”

The door to the changing room Rose had gone into burst open, and she emerged in a flurry of pink and white cat-printed skirts. “What’s perfect- oh! Oh, that is perfect! And it would be so romantic if you two matched!” Rose sighed dreamily.

This was not good.

“It’s actually pretty cool,” Alix, who was now sitting up properly, said.

This was not good at all.

“You have to try it on!” Alya said.

She watched as Alya rushed toward Marinette with the dress in hand. She needed to do something. Anything. But she was completely frozen. It was like watching a car wreck about to happen, knowing that disaster was about to strike but not being able to do anything.

“Actually,” Marinette said, setting her shoulders as she stepped back from Alya,”I was thinking, maybe we could check out some fabric stores after all? There’s a few not far from here…”

“Of course we can, Marinette!” Mylène said.

“So you are going to make a dress?”

Marinette’s gazed darted to land on her before flickering back to Alya. “Yeah,” Marinette said, nodding, “I think I figured out a way to make it work.”

***

She frowned down at the two spools of lace in her hands. One had a floral pattern that would compliment the roses in her dress and shoes nicely, but the other was embellished with little black seedbeds that would catch the light like her new shoes. Her frown deepened. She liked both of them. She could just get both. But she didn’t really need two new chokers. And she would still have to decide which went better with her outfit…

She was going to need a second opinion.

She started making her way back through the store to the approximate area she had left Marinete when she had decided to go check out the lace options. She found her in much the same spot, by the section of dressier fashion fabrics.

But Marinette wasn’t alone anymore.

“-absolutely perfect!” Alya exclaimed, brandishing a bolt of green taffeta. Maybe she shouldn’t have left Marinette alone while she went to go look at the lace… Marinette was staring at the bolt with a blank expression, and Alya looked like her birthday and Christmas had all been rolled into one. “Just think, when Adrien sees you in a dress that matches his eyes, he’ll have no choice but to notice you!”

Alya was already moving to push the bolt into Marinette’s hands. She needed to think of something. Fast. She needed to-

“That shade of green doesn’t suit me,” Marinette said coolly, taking a step back and away from the offered fabric.

Alya froze, still holding the bolt out to Marinette. She blinked. But she didn’t say anything. None of the girls did.

Marinette shifted her weight between her feet, her cheeks flushing as her gaze darted around at the other girls.

“But-” Alya started to say.

“I’m going to go look at the clearance section,” Marinette said quickly before turning on her heel a disappearing between two shelves overflowing with fabrics.

They stood there in silence for what felt like forever, but was probably less than a minute.

Mylène hummed thoughtfully, picking at the green fabric as she looked in the direction Marinette had disappeared to. “She’s right. This wouldn’t look very good on her.”

“Plus, it would put an instant target on her back,” Alix snorted. “Imagine Chloe’s reaction if someone other than her showed up wearing a dress that matched Adrien’s eyes.”

“I- I guess you’re right…” Alya sighed, her disbelief still evident in her voice. But then Alya shook her head, and her eyes cleared. “We just can’t let her end up wearing pink.”

“What’s wrong with pink?” Rose asked, crossing her arms and glowering at Alya as if her honour had been insulted. Which… it kind of had been… To even imply anything negative about the colour pink was a personal affront to Rose.

“Nothing!” Alya said, taking a step back as she raised her hands. “It looks great on her! And you!” Alya added hastily. Rose’s face softened ever so slightly. “It’s just that she always wears pink. If she wants to catch Adrien’s attention then she needs to stand out! Change up her look a bit! And just think how romantic it will be when he sees her in a new light at the dance…”

Alya’s words had their intended effect; Rose’s frown melted, mollified by the mention of dances and romance. And the reassurance there was nothing wrong with the colour pink.

“I guess you’re right. And it would be romantic…” except for the fact that no one should need to see Marinette wearing different colour for them to notice her “…but if she won’t wear green to match his eyes…” Rose lit up like a lightbulb, squealing in excitement. “What about red! It’s such a romantic colour…”

Oh no.

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen her wear red before…” Alix said thoughtfully.

Oh no.

“And I bet it would look great on her!” Mylène added.

Alya was grinning now. “It would! And… Adrien is a big fan of Ladybug… if she wears it, there’s no way he’ll miss her!” Alya crowed, already taking off in the direction Marinette had gone. “Red will be her lucky colour, for sure!” she called over her shoulder.

Oh no no no.

With a curse directed at Alya, the colour red, and the Universe for good measure muttered under her breath, she followed Alya and the rest of the girls further into the store.

***

Thankfully, Marinette left the store empty handed.

Which was not what she would have called a win an hour ago. But…

“I still can’t believe you didn’t get it,” Alya griped. “It was perfect!”

Alya was too busy carrying on to notice Marinette’s grimace. “I don’t want to wear red. And I told you, I don’t want to buy any fabric until I have a design,” Marinette sighed.

And she was sure that was true. Marinette always liked to have a plan. But she had also noticed Marinette had gravitated toward the soft, fluffy, cloud like tulles and the gauzy organzas and chiffons while they were in the store. And, she had noticed the colour Marinette had gravitated toward.

Basically the exact opposite of the scarlet satin Alya had shoved in her face and loudly declared as the ‘perfect choice for making a dress to impress Adrien.’.

“It’s ok Marinette,” Rose beamed, “there’s still time before the dance! I know you’ll finish your design in time!”

She mumbled her agreement. She had no doubt in her mind that Marinette would pull something amazing together in time for the dance. Especially, because she had also noticed the spark in Marinette’s eye when she had seen one bolt of fabric in particular.

She wouldn’t be surprised if Marinette went back tomorrow with a finished design in hand.

“So are we getting dinner now?” Alix moaned. She had been complaining about dying of starvation for the past half-hour. She had looked ready to rip her hair out when she had seen the inside of the fabric store, packed with shelves that went almost to the ceiling and were crammed with bolts of fabric. “We’ve been at this all afternoon.”

“Oh, come on Alix. This is fun! And it’s the last dance of the school year!” Mylène chided.

“And we only have a couple more shops left to go to! I still need shoes,” Rose chirped.

“There’s one more fabric store I want to look at. But, it’s still a bit of a trek. So that’ll be our last stop for the day, which means,” she said, cutting off Alix’s groan, “that dinner is the next stop!”

“We should go to Pierre’s!” Alya said as she glanced down at her phone.

“But I thought we were going to get kebabs?” Marinette asked, her brows furrowing.

Her stomach began to sink. The image of Alya furiously typing on her phone throughout the afternoon forced its way to the forefront of her mind.

Alya was up to something.

Something fishy.

“Pierre’s is closer.“

“That works for me.” Alix was already ahead of them, walking so briskly she was basically running.

“I guess Pierre’s it is,” Mylène sighed before moving to follow Alix.

She cast a surreptitious look in Alya’s direction. Alya was grinning widely, looking thoroughly pleased with herself.

Something fishy indeed.

She needed to do something.

But what?

She wracked her brain, trying to think of any possible way she could send Alya’s scheme off the rails. But she couldn’t think of anything. She glanced around at the rest of the girls. None of them seemed to put out by the change in plans. Alix actually seemed thrilled by them. But that was probably more to due with the fact that she was ‘literally dying of starvation,’ than anything Alya had planned…

And just what did Alya have in store? Was she going to try and set Marinette and Adrien up to have dinner alone? Or was she going to pull another movie theatre scheme, where Marinette would be forced to sit next to Adrien? It was possible there was another option she wasn’t even thinking of…

But it didn’t really matter what Alya had planned.

All that mattered was the timing.

She glanced down at her phone screen.

Luka would have just finished his shift a few minutes ago.

One of the great things about Luka’s job was discount—and sometimes even free—pizza. But what was even better about the pizza place he worked at, was its location…

Queen of Darkness 🦇: hey

Queen of Darkness 🦇: trouble clefts is having a sale on strings

Idiot 🎸: yeah

Idiot 🎸: i got the email

Queen of Darkness 🦇: can you get some for me?

Idiot 🎸: why can’t you?

Idiot 🎸: you’re literally out shopping

Queen of Darkness 🦇: alix is hangry

Queen of Darkness 🦇: I don’t have a death wish

Queen of Darkness 🦇: plus u owe me

It was true. He did owe her. A lot. And that wasn’t even counting the favour she was currently trying to do for him and Marinette.

Idiot 🎸: for what?

Idiot 🎸: what are you up to?

Queen of Darkness 🦇: who said Im up to something?

Queen of Darkness 🦇: u going to get me the strings or not?

Queen of Darkness 🦇: I know u need more too

Queen of Darkness 🦇: don’t pretend u don’t

Idiot 🎸: fine

Idiot 🎸: youre always up to something

Queen of Darkness 🦇: just hurry up and get the strings

She bit down on her smile as she slipped her phone back into her pocket. To get to Trouble Clefts from the pizzeria, Luka would have to pass by Pierre’s. And if he left now… there was no way he would miss them.

“You coming, bijou?” Rose was looking at her over her shoulder, her hand held out to her. She hurried to catch up the rest of the girls—she had lagged a little behind while texting—and intertwined her fingers with Rose’s. “What were you doing?” Rose asked as they followed the rest of the girls.

“Oh, nothing. Just checking my email…” she fought back a frown as Alya shot her a suspicious look that was so quick, she almost missed it. A frown of her own began to crease her face. Alya had been… not weird. But something felt… off. Before she could delve further into her thoughts, she was abruptly shaken from them by Rose launching into an animated debate with herself over whether she should wear the sequinned romper or the cat-print dress to the dance.

The rest of the walk to Pierre’s was filled with idle chatter, mostly about their success so far on their shopping trip and the dance in general. She would say it was uneventful. If not for the fact that she kept catching Alya glancing at her. That wouldn’t have been anything noteworthy, if not for the fact that every time she caught Alya looking, her friend looked away…

Add in the way she had looked at her in the shoe shop when she had asked for her agreement on finding something that would impress Adrien…

Her frown fought to return as Alya abruptly looked away for her for what felt like the dozenth time. But it was difficult to keep it at bay. The comment had been a bit too pointed for her liking. And the looks….

She shook her head. Now wasn’t the time to overanalyze that. Especially given Alya’s attention had returned to her phone, on which she began furiously typing. She didn’t know what exactly it was that Alya was planning, but she knew that there was no way she was going to let it happen. Whatever it was. She just hoped Luka would get there in time.

They rounded the last corner and Alya noticeably slowed to an amble.

She was stalling.

“C’mon,” Alix groaned from up ahead, halfway between the rest of their group and the doors to Pierre’s. “I’m dying here.”

“We’re coming,” Alya placated, still moving at a leisurely amble.

“Not very-“

“Hey, babe!” She turned at the sound of Nino’s voice. Nino was standing at the other end of the short street with the rest of the guys from their class in tow. Nino was grinning awkwardly as he waved. “What are you all doing here?” Nino was a great director. And he had a good eye for acting. But he was not an actor himself. His voice was stilted, like he was reading from an invisible script and though his smile was obviously meant to be casual, awkwardness permeated it.

But Alya just grinned. “We were going to have dinner,” Alya said—much more effortlessly than Nino had said what she imagined were his lines—as she nodded toward the doors to the cafe.

“Cool,” Adrien said brightly with a sunny smile. “We were all on our way to grab some dinner too!”

“Really?” Alya called, “Why don’t you join us?”

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a thousand emotions flicker across Marinette’s face before it settled into a nervous frown. The rest of the girls were nodding and smiling. Well, Alix wasn’t smiling, she was too hangry for that. Her gaze darted back to the guys. Nino, Adrien, and Kim were already making their way toward them. But she didn’t see-

A flash of blue caught her eye as Ivan shifted to make his way toward Mylène. Luka caught her eye as he ambled toward them, trailing after Max. Lightning quick, his eyes darted to Alya, then back to her before quirking a brow.

“Luka!” The second Marinette called his name, his face softened and his attention was wholly focused on her.

“Hey, Marinette,” he said quietly as he shoved his hands in his pockets, coming to a stop in the loose little group they had formed. The idiot was trying so hard to be casual. But he was so obvious—hopefully not to Alya—what with the way he was smiling at Marinette like she was music personified. It was his Marinette smile. “It’s great to see you.”

Marinette’s smile was bright and wide, but somehow soft at the same time. Her Luka smile. “Luka! What are you-“

“Luka,” she watched as he slowly and deliberately turned to Alya. “What a surprise, what are you doing here?” If she were so inclined, she would have pointed out that it shouldn’t have been anymore of a surprise to see Luka than the rest of the guys given the scheme had obviously been staged to be a ’casual bump in.’

But now didn’t seem like the time or the place.

He shrugged. “I was out buying strings and we ran into each other. They were just going to grab dinner and invited me, and you know I never turn down a meal.”

“What a coincidence,” Alya said lightly through gritted teeth. Alya’s eyes darted to her again, before flashing back to Adrien, then Marinette. “Marinette!” Alya said, suddenly much more brightly. “You had something you wanted to ask Adrien,” Alya said, gripping Marinette’s arm, “didn’t you?”

Shoot.

What was she supposed to do? How was she supposed to stop Alya now? Luka was here! But it wasn’t like she could just tell him to do something. Not now! Not with everyone watching. Kinda. More or less. Everyone was watching Marinette and Adrien. But if she did anything now, that would definitely draw attention to herself.

Marinette’s eyes went wide; Alya would probably say it was because she had gone off to Adrien-land, but she thought Marinette looked more like a deer in headlights. Her gaze was darting around at all of the expectant faces of their friends. Her hands were wringing the strap of her purse.

Shoot shoot shoot shoot shoot shoot shoot shoot shoot-

“Actually, Marinette,” Luka said casually, his gaze flickered to her. Something flashed in his eyes. And just as quickly as his gaze had darted to her, it returned to Marinette, and his entire face softened all over again. “I was going to call you later, but since we’re here now; if you aren’t going to the dance with anyone, maybe I could take you? Or I guess,” he had that lopsided and lovesick grin on his face, “you could take me? Since it’s for your school and all…”

He had done it.

He had actually done it.

He had finally done it.

Silence overcame their entire group. It suddenly felt like she would be able to hear a pin drop.

Marinette’s eyes were still wide. But they had suddenly decidedly less ‘cornered wildlife’ quality to them. In fact… they were practically sparkling. And her face was melting into a dreamy smile and she-

“Yes, I’d- I’d like that Luka. To go to the dance. With you.”

Yes!

Just as suddenly as it had seemingly disappeared, sound returned to their group. Ivan said something about how it would be nice to have Luka at the dance too, while Kim loudly challenged Luka to a dance off—a challenge she doubted her brother had heard given the look on his face—and Rose was chattering excitedly about how great it would be to have the entire group at the dance. Nino cast an uneasy glance at Alya, which he tried to cover in a cough.

Alya shot a glare at her behind Marinette’s back, and she had to remind herself to stay cool. She offered Alya a tiny shrug and an innocent look. But Alya just narrowed her eyes.

“Great,” Alya said. If she were gritting her teeth anymore, they would likely shatter. “It’s always nice to go to dances with a friend.”

Her idiot brother didn’t say anything to disagree; given how dazed he looked —or too far off in dreamland, thinking up music that would go with Marinette’s dress or something—she doubted he had even heard Alya. He probably wouldn’t have noticed if a parade of akumas went by.

At least Marinette was too busy smiling at her feet to notice.

Baby steps.

And she could always give Luka an earful about it later. All that mattered now was-

“Yeah! It’ll be nice to have all my friends there!” Adrien agreed brightly before turning to Marinette. “So what was it you wanted to ask me, Marinette?”

Marinette jumped almost a foot in the air, the dreamy smile gone from her face. “Oh! I-I-You! Hair! Your hair!”

“My… hair?”

“I need to buy my dad some more shampoo- he doesn’t like the one he bought- what do you recommend?”

***

She dumped her shopping bags on the floor and flopped onto the sofa, stretching out to take up its entire length. Despite the rocky start, the shopping trip had ended up being successful.

Very successful.

“The rest of the shopping trip was a success?” Luka asked as he looked up from his guitar. They had parted ways after dinner; he had still needed to go get the strings for his guitar and her bass, and she and the girls had still had a few shops they had wanted to get to before they closed. “You get a dress?”

She smiled to herself. Between talking with Marinette—and the rest of the gang but really Marinette—and daydreaming, he hadn’t seemed to notice her shopping bags. “Yep.”

“Cool,” he mumbled as he fiddled with one of the tuning pegs. She watched him as he fiddled with the instrument. Luka was quiet. Not as quiet as her. But still quiet.

And the opposite of subtle.

It was obvious he had something on his mind. Or rather… someone, given what had happened outside Pierre’s… he probably had a lot on his mind.

“Marinette hasn’t gotten her dress yet. In case you were wondering.”

“I wasn’t!” The flush in his face betrayed his lie.

“Sure…”

“So…” he ducked his gaze and continued to tune the guitar she knew for a fact was already perfectly tuned. “She isn’t making her dress? I know she’s been busy but-“

“We’ll see.”

“She’s going to look amazing…” he sighed wistfully, his dreamy gaze wandering up toward the ceiling.

“She is,” she murmured in agreement. “And you’re actually going to get to see her in her dress and everything. It’s about time you asked her out,” she said. She smirked his cheeks flushed bright red. He ducked his head to hide it, but she had already seen it.

“Yeah, well…” he said, drawing out his words. She could hear the smile in his voice. “I would have done it sooner…”

Her smirk softened into a smile. “I’m glad you finally got to this note in the song,” she said quietly.

“Me too.”

She ribbed him with her elbow, and smiled when he looked up at her again. “You sure were her knight in shining armour back there.”

His cheeks turned an even brighter shade of red. His face was bright enough to rival Ladybug’s suit. “I don’t know about that-“

“You’re right,” she sniggered, “More like her dork in ripped jeans.”

“Jules,” he groaned. “She just seemed put on the spot. She didn’t- Alya isn’t subtle.” She snorted. Truer words had never been spoken. “And… you were right.” If had felt good to hear that the first time. And it sounded just as good the second time. “And I’m tired of stepping back.”

Truth be told, he hadn’t stepped back in a while. Sure, he hadn’t asked Marinette out before today. But the past few weeks he had been there for Marinette. Really, he always had been. And now that she was in a place where she didn’t look like she would crumble at any minute… He had stepped in when she had been put on the spot. And he had asked her out in a way that was, if not impossible, at least difficult to read as completely platonic. Despite Alya’s best efforts. And while he had ended up asking her to the dance in front of everyone—something he wouldn’t have done if the circumstances hadn’t been dire—he had done it in a way that put as little pressure on her as possible. It was typical Luka… “Way to step up.”

“She’s worth it.” She wasn’t sure if she was supposed to have heard that. But she had to agree.

“So what are you going to wear?”

“What?”

“To the dance.”

“Oh…” He shrugged. “I guess my good jeans and a nice shirt-“

“You can’t wear jeans!”

“What? Why not? I always wear jeans to school dances.”

“Because you’re always playing them. But you’re going to this one. And, you’re going with Marinette!”

“Ok, yeah… maybe I need to rethink that.” She raised a brow and glared at him. “I will definitely not wear jeans,” he amended.

She nodded, but couldn’t resist the urge to roll her eyes. Just for good measure. Honestly! At least he hadn’t suggested he wear sweatpants.

***

Once Luka had gotten his new strings on his guitar and launched into noodling the sappiest and most lovesick music she had ever heard, she bailed. She had dumped the bags with her dress, gloves, and the laces—she had ended up getting both because a girl could never have too many black lace chokers—into her room and made her escape to the greenhouse with the copy of ‘The Art of War’ she had borrowed from the library in hand.

The air was still warm and the sun hadn’t quite dipped below the horizon yet, but the evening was definitely approaching its meeting with the night. Which mean it was the perfect time to relax in the greenhouse and get some reading in before the group chat for plotting schemes inevitably blew up.

She had just gotten to the section on adapting to shifting circumstances when her phone pinged. Of course. Just when she was getting to the interesting part… She groaned; she had known this would be coming. But she had hoped it would take Alya at least a little longer to pick up the twins from their friend’s house.

But it seemed luck wasn’t on her side.

Which meant Alya was back at it again.

Alya 🦊?!: NOW WHAT ARE WE GOING TO DO???!!!

Alya 🦊?!: NOW ADRIEN THINKS MARINETTE HAS A DATE FOR THE DANCE

Because she did.

Because her wonderful, idiot brother hadn’t been an idiot and used the word friend.

Rose 🌹💗: she does have a date!!! 🥰🥰🥰

Alix 🛼 : u should know

Alix 🛼 : ur head looked like it was gonna pop off when he asked her 🤣🤣🤣

Mylène 🌼 : that’s not very nice alix

Alix 🛼 : it’s true

Alix 🛼 : 🤣🤣🤣

Alya 🦊?!: this is SERIOUS

Alya 🦊?!: HOW WILL ADRIEN AND MARINETTE GET TOGETHER NOW??????

It looked like Alya was in a full blown panic. Which wasn’t surprising given her ship was sinking. Fast. And she was floundering for ways to bail herself out.

Alya 🦊?!: THE DANCE IS OUR LAST SHOT BEFORE THE SUMMER

Mylène 🌼 : why do they have to get together before the summer?

Alix 🛼 : can’t it wait til I’m on vacation?

Alix 🛼 : then I won’t have to see any of the gross mushy stuff

Rose 🌹💗: it isn’t gross!!!!!

Alya 🦊?!: I’m serious guys!! This changes the whole plan!!!

Plan?

She should have known Alya would have some kind of elaborate plan for the dance, besides getting Adrien to ask Marinette or vice versa. But this was the first time she was hearing about it.

Alya 🦊?!: @Queen of Darkness what was Luka even doing there??

Queen of Darkness 🦇: he said he was getting strings

Alya 🦊?!: But y tonight??? Y from that store? Aren’t there others?

Queen of Darkness 🦇: idk

Queen of Darkness 🦇: I’m not his babysitter

Just his wrangler

Alya 🦊?!: But y would he ask her????

Alya 🦊?!: he knows they’re meant to be!!!!

Only because Alya kept telling him that.

Rose 🌹💗: don’t worry Alya

Rose 🌹💗: we can make a new plan for the dance!!

Alix 🛼 : I still don’t see what the big deal is

Alya 🦊?!: WHAT DO YOU MEAN????

Alix 🛼 : So what if she has a date?

Alya 🦊?!: ADRIEN CAN’T ASK HER IF SHE ALREADY HAS A DATE!!!!!!

Alix 🛼 : exactly

Alix 🛼 : wasn’t that our plan for the fall formal before Adrien got strep?

Oh no.

She had completely forgotten about that scheme.

That very ill-advised scheme she was glad they hadn’t ended up enacting.

Mylène 🌼 : so he’s helping her make Adrien jealous?

Rose 🌹💗: we’ve never actually gotten to try making him jealous!!

Rose 🌹💗: maybe they thought it would work???!!!

Like Luka or Marinette would ever play mind games like that.

Alix 🛼 : See?

Alix 🛼 : they go as friends and make Adrien think its a date to make him jealous

Alix 🛼 : like I said

Alix 🛼 : no big deal

Mylène 🌼 : I guess I would also feel pretty left out if I were him too

Mylène 🌼 : since he would have been the only one not going

Never-mind the fact Luka wasn’t a fan of school dances, he did have his own friends.

Rose 🌹💗: and we can always make backup plans

Rose 🌹💗: in case Adrien is too polite to act on his jealousy at the dance

Rose 🌹💗: we’ll make sure

Mylène 🌼 : we can meet at my place day after tomorrow

Rose 🌹💗: we’ll come up with the perfect plan!

Rose 🌹💗: and then Adrien and Marinette will live happily ever after!!!!!

Rose 🌹💗: right girls?

Alix 🛼 : sure

Mylène 🌼 : of course!

Quickly, she typed out her response. It would look odd if she didn’t agree. Of course, she wasn’t going to agree. Not word for word at least.

Queen of Darkness 🦇: everything will work out

She would make sure of it.

Dots appeared, indicating Alya was typing. But they kept disappearing and then reappearing. Until finally…

Alya 🦊?!: K

What was all that about? It wouldn’t have taken Alya that long, or that many tries to just type that response. And it was too blunt. Too curt.

It was suspicious was what it was…

She frowned at the screen. Waiting for Alya to say… well, something. But there were no more dots on the screen. After another fruitless minute of waiting, she tucked her phone back in her pocket and flipped back to the page she had been reading when she was interrupted.

But she couldn’t concentrate on the words. All those little looks and glances…the comments… and now Alya’s curt response to her—sure, it had been sent to the group chat, and maybe she was reading into it too much, but it felt like it was directed at her—they were niggling at her brain.

She didn’t like it.

Any of it.

A shadow passed over her head, and she was immediately on her feet, her book brandished like a weapon as she dropped into a fighting stance. You could never been too careful in a Shadowmoth infested Paris.

The figure who had cast the shadow dropped to the the deck in front of her.

“Ladybug?“ she asked as she straightened up.

Ladybug nodded and smiled.

“Is it an akuma…?” She had told Marinette to ask her—well, her ‘coworker’—for help. But she hadn’t expected her tonight. Given the look on Marinette’s face when Luka had asked her to the dance, she would have assumed Marinette was going to spend the whole night designing her dress for the- unless there was trouble which meant- but Ladybug didn’t seem to be in a rush. There was no aura of urgency in the air around her. But there was an embarrassed little smile in her face, and a dreamy look in her eyes coupled with the spark that was always there when she thought up a new design…

“No, no!” Ladybug waved her hands as if to calm and placate. ”No akumas or sentimonsters.” Ladybug bit her lip, flushing as she wrung her hands. Knowing Marinette was Ladybug was one thing, but it was so weird to see Marinette’s bashfulness on Ladybug. “I want to preface this by saying it’s no pressure and you can absolutely say no. But, I have a favour to ask you.”

#juleka vs. the forces of the universe #endgame lukanette #lukanette endgame #pro lukamari #juleka couffaine #luka couffaine #marinette dupain cheng #alya cesaire #rose lavillant #alix kubdel #mylene haprele #adrien agreste #nino lahiffe #miracuclass #alya salt #girl squad salt #adrien salt

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ficbrish · 1 year

Text

Waking Up With You Chapter 2

“Damn… is it time to go already?” [AO3]

Rating: Explicit, 18+ only

Tags: During Canon, POV Alternating, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Developing Relationship, Shameless Smut, Fluff and Smut, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, Some Humor, She falls first, He falls harder, Friends to Lovers, Love Confessions, First Kiss, First Time, Kissing, Bathing/Washing, Shower Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Fisting, Oral Sex, Ass to Mouth

[[TW/CW: Grief, smoking, alcohol, food, booty-eating, fisting, light dom/sub undertones]]

[Previous Chapter]

MacCready didn’t mention breakfast meant Diamond City. Renée had made the perilous trek between towns often enough by now to recognize their route after that first turn, but he still held onto their destination like it was a secret.

“We’re going to Diamond City, right?”

“You’ll see.”

Renée was so hungry by the time they got there she even started to regret passing up one of those super mutant grab bags on the way over. Sticking her hand into a pile of dismembered flesh, that had been lying on the floor for who knows how many days, and pulling out a bit of bloatfly would have been better than the pit of anger now festering in her belly.

MacCready looked so proud of himself standing in front of the noodle bar with his hands triumphantly placed on his hips. The light beaming through his expression made him seem as if he’d just gifted her the world.

Or maybe it was just the same shit-eating grin that refused to leave his face ever since this morning.

The robot spoke first, “Nan-ni shimasho-ka?”

“Yes! Two of them!” MacCready tossed his caps on the counter smoothly like a noir protagonist before his Icarus burn, “And stay nearby! Today we eat ‘till the lady’s had her fill.”

Renée settled onto one of the stools, “Oh, you dreamboat.”

He joined her with a tsk, tsk, “Better start showing some appreciation for my generosity, boss. I’ll unionize, you know.”

He looked up at her through the brim of his cap and her face flushed with sudden heat.

Two could play at that.

Renée gracefully reached for the side of his face. Her fingers gently wrapped around his ear, her thumb tracing along his jaw. The smugness left his eyes for something softer. He covered her hand in his.

“And how would you do that?” she purred, “You’re my only mercenary.”

MacCready took their hands off his cheek to rest them in his lap.

“I’ve got bargaining power,” he stated confidently, moving her hand slightly further up his thigh. He was subtle about it. No one saw. Her heart thudded as her palm brushed over that secret part of him.

Clouds of steam carrying the smell of hot noodles got placed under their noses.

They dug in without another word, slurping and swallowing without even tasting. Behind them some man started shouting at a security guard to stay away from his wife. Something like that usually immediately captured their attention, but the bustling market around them became a dull thrum to their senses. There were only noodles; they took over completely.

After all of about five minutes, half-satisfied and ready for a nap, Renée and MacCready sat back in their stools. The robot cleared their empty bowls.

“Noodles for breakfast?” she asked as they waited for another round.

“Well, it’s past noon, which makes this lunch. Perfect time for noodles.”

A gruff individual next to them in a green jacket and ratty cap interrupted the robot from its preparations, “They had some already! I’m next!”

They shared an amused look and a smirk. MacCready took his cigarettes out of his pocket and offered one to Renée, which she gladly accepted.

“You ever gonna get some of your own?” he asked, unlit cigarette dangling between his lips, “Or are you just gonna keep borrowing from me?”

She leaned in as he held out a flame for both of them.

Their faces hadn’t been this close since the walk over when he pulled her into an alley to steal a kiss. They smiled and blushed at the memory as they inhaled, and the sparked cherries cast a warm glow over their expressions.

He’d very obviously wanted the gesture in the alley to be spontaneous, but she’d known what was coming—he took the time to clear the area first. Now that Renée knew about Lucy, she could see her dreadful fate in every ounce of RJ’s thoroughness. She saw the strength of his affection in it as well. Words could never ring as sweet as the sight of his professional paranoia taken up a notch by her presence.

He’d tangled his fingers in her hair as he consumed her. It wasn’t wise to be so oblivious to the Wasteland around them. Having something precious to protect was the only reason they were able to pull away and keep going.

“Technically, all the cigarettes are mine,” Renée blew her smoke into the street, “I just make you carry them.”

“Gee, thanks.”

He took another drag and chuckled at the end of his exhale.

“What? What’s so funny?”

“This!” that ear-to-ear smile of his was back, “I mean, can you believe this?!”

Renée tried to hide her gleeful expression with another puff, but she wore the corners of her mouth as earrings just like he did.

Pre-war men only ever acted like this before they made it between your knees. Even Nate had tried to brush her off before she swallowed her pride and begged him to stay. It wasn’t about whether they cared for you, or how much. That’s just how men were.

Then that world ended.

“Oh, thanks!” RJ’s eyes grew wide as their second round of noodles got placed in front of them.

Renée tried to look at hers the same way he looked at his. Now that she wasn’t ravenous, the bowl in front of her had lost some of its appeal. It wasn’t the salve to her desperation anymore. It turned back into more strange food from this strange, new world.

Their hands touched as they put out their cigarettes in the ashtray between them. MacCready laced his fingers with hers and gave them a squeeze before he let go.

That feeling hadn’t changed since the bombs, that rush. Blood still boiled the same. Nerves still crackled like lightning.

Renée took a deep breath.

Maybe the lingering sourness would never go away. A pre-war relic, she would always be spoiled. She’d known the real Earth; RJ and most everyone else only knew Hell.

“This is shaping up to be the best day of my life,” MacCready said with a mouth full of noodles.

She slurped up some of hers through the steam. Renée couldn’t deny a certain comfort they brought. They were warm, hearty; and razorgrain added something exquisite that didn’t exist before.

Even taking their time, it wasn’t long before they were lighting cigarettes again over emptied bowls. RJ took hold of her hand and played with her fingers as they smoked.

“How long has it been since your last date?” He was absolutely smug about it.

“Is that what this is?”

“I didn’t ask you about this one. I asked you about the last one.”

She rolled her eyes, grinning, “Oh, you know. Over 220 years. But who’s counting?”

“No,” he chuckled, “That’s not what I meant. Before that stuff.”

“That stuff?” she laughed, “You mean the global, nuclear apocalypse and being cryogenically frozen?”

“Yeah.”

A cloud of smoke left her lips, “Do married dates count?”

“Of course they count!”

“Hmmmm… It was before we knew about Shaun. Actually… just a little before we found out. We went out to the drive-in.” She paused, laughing bitterly, “If I’d known that would be our last date—Hell, my very last trip to the movies!—I wouldn’t have fallen asleep.”

RJ’s face went a bit dark.

“Oh, fuck,” she realized, “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking about how—You know… Falling asleep and… and all that. Unless you weren’t even thinking about!—And now I’m bringing it up…”

He chuckled, “Hey, don’t worry about me. I can handle it, talking about what happened. Now that you know, I probably won’t stop talking about it. No, I was just thinking about how I—”

He thought for a moment and continued after a drag, “I understand it. That last day with Lucy… the two of us kept fighting. It was something really dumb; how my manners and language were a bad influence on Duncan, other small things I can’t really remember… Whether it was warm for the season! But really, it was just because we were hungry and tired.”

Renée nodded thoughtfully and ashed her cigarette, “Funny how that happens. It doesn’t matter how much you love someone. Eventually, everybody’s gotta sleep.”

Their laughter overtook all other sounds in the heart of the crowded marketplace. Their animated joy stuck out like radioactive material in the obsidian-black night, but no one turned their heads. The way their hands lightly rested on each other’s thighs marked their little sphere as too intimate to interrupt. Even catching a glance of the expressions in their eyes felt like a violation.

They lit another cigarette instead of ordering more noodles. MacCready pulled out a bottle of bourbon they’d found earlier from his pack to pass between them.

The sun started to dip before he leaned in and whispered, “Where can I get you alone?”

* * * * * *

MacCready hadn’t been inside Renée’s Diamond City house since the night she bought it. The shack was an impulse purchase she’d immediately regretted, something Renée did just because she could. Just because she went from someone who lost everything to someone who could throw away 5,000 caps just to lighten her pockets, and she needed something tangible and external to prove how far she’d come.

It was a tomb then, packed with a dead man’s furniture. Their first steps into its threshold disturbed layers of dust like piles of snow. No one had been in there since its previous owner disappeared years ago. The mayor never bothered to have it cleaned before he sold it. Just like Kellog’s house, it sat locked and untouched.

Contained, locked, undisturbed; these all meant one thing—safety. After months of watching each other’s backs, they finally had security beyond themselves and each other; walls with locked doors that only they had the keys to, a solid roof, and Diamond City security outside. They also had two stories of space to spread out in and the chance to sleep alone. Renée stretched out on the dodgy bed. MacCready took the beat-up couch on the floor below.

All that space in the dark. Alone.

Renée called down for him pretty quickly, and MacCready went right to her side without any hesitation. Back-to-back again in the dead man’s bed, they were finally able to sleep that night.

Everything about today was different.

They crossed the threshold with their hearts in their throats, having come this time solely for the purpose of sharing the same bed and each other within it. The moment that the front door was shut, everything they’d ever held back was expressible, even promised.

“Oh, woah! You did all this? Since when?!”

Renée laughed it off, “It’s just a side project. Nick and Piper sometimes help out too.”

The house itself had transformed just as much as their intentions. The whole place was completely gutted and renewed.

“Just a side project,” he repeated, mocking her in awe. “It’s amazing!”

“Nah.”

MacCready took his hat off. Then he shook his head as if he had long, flowing hair instead of his short crop. He ran his fingers through it, scratching his scalp along the way.

Renée always watched him do that whenever they were about to settle in for the night. He did it reliably, like a signal marking their territory. It wasn’t a unique gesture. Plenty of people took their hats off in similar ways. It wasn’t even a sign that he was relaxed. His back rarely faced the door; his gun stayed nearby. Just something he did out of habit.

This time with an uncharacteristically huge smile on his face.

“You have lights! And art! And a kitchen! That’s a whole kitchen!”

Renée chuckled at the way his voice cracked with excitement, “Yes, it is. You know what else it has?”

“What?”

“Indoor plum—”

“INDOOR PLUMBING?!”

“And—”

“And?!”

She couldn’t help but match that smile of his, “Hot—”

“No!”

“—water.”

“Shut up! No!”

“Yes,” she laughed.

“You’re crazy!”

Still laughing, she unlaced her boots and asked him to do the same.

“We should shower,” she suggested as they lined up their shoes by the door.

“Oh, you had me at ‘hot water’!”

Renée led the way, stripping off her clothes and leaving them in a trail along the floor to be picked up later. Everything she took off, he took off too. Socks left their bodies first, then bits of armor. They were both topless by the time the faucet started running. Their pants were the last to go.

They hadn’t kissed since the alley, but that was remedied the moment their heads hit the flow of water. It was breathless, gasping. Their lips made chaos of time. They’d only crossed that line this morning, but the feeling was ancient like meeting again across lives. Every touch was the very first and the very last. They had so much to make up for.

“Gross!”

“Eeew!”

Streaks of dirt ran down their faces like mascara on a rough night.

Renée was horrified, “But we took baths yesterday!—Oh god!”

MacCready caught her train of thought from the panicked look in her eyes, “Relax. I would have tasted it on your neck. No, this has gotta be from all that fresh Boston air on the walk over.”

“The walk you insisted on us taking?”

“It got us here, didn’t it?”

Renée smiled, “Guess it was worth it.”

She positioned her face under the water, eyes shut tight against the flow. MacCready was glued to the way the water bounced off her cheekbones and ran down her lips. The dirt washed away, leaving her cool, brown skin rich and fresh. He never let himself really, truly see her before, and the sight of her now hit his heart like a view of the ocean.

“You’re—”

She shook her head, stepping out from under the faucet, “I’ve got facewash somewhere.”

MacCready stepped under the flow while Renée leaned half-out of the curtain.

“Codsworth made these,” she said while his eyes were still shut.

“Made what?” he asked, and the water rushed into his mouth, which he instinctively spat out.

“RJ!”

Laughing, he stepped out from the faucet and wiped the water off his pink face, “Sorry! I didn’t mean to!”

“You just spit all over me!”

“What did Codsworth make?” he asked, laughter still dying out.

“What didn’t he make? We’ve got facewash, soap, shampoo, and moisturizers for both the skin and hair.”

“Skin and hair?” he teased, “Ol’ Butler Bot’s been busy.”

“Yeah, well, after 220 years of waiting around, he’s picked up a new hobby or two.”

They took turns scrubbing and rinsing their faces with Codsworth’s cleanser. It had a refreshing minty quality to it that made them both astounded he’d ever been kicked out of a town. Robot or not, this was art. But such an outcome was also plain and predictable; bigotry was never based on anything real.

Renée grabbed the shampoo after putting the bottle of facewash away. It came in a solid bar like soap, and its creamy color nicely complimented the lighter skin under her hands. MacCready always found them unbelievably soft. No matter how many times they picked up a gun, the way they felt defied logic. Not that he had a lot of experience touching her hands. Not yet. The sight of them now possessed him with an impulse to tear that bar out of her grip and press her smooth palm against his face. Then kiss her fingers one by one.

“Bend down,” she told him.

He lowered his head, ready for anything. She ran her hands though his wet hair, lathering it.

“Oooh, that’s nice.”

Renée chuckled, “Have you ever had your hair washed before? I mean—By another person?”

“No. You?”

She nodded even though he couldn’t see it. Her hair, now thoroughly soaked through, bounced with loose, dripping curls.

“By my mother when I was a kid. And then every time I went to the salon,” she answered.

“God this feels good.”

“Not even before a cut?”

“Always cut my own hair. I even did Lucy and Duncan’s.”

“Wow. Impressive.”

“Don’t lie.”

“I’m not!” she giggled.

When she took her hands away from his scalp, he straightened up and shook his head like a dog. Speckles of suds flew everywhere.

“You’re next,” he was barely audible over her shrieking laughter.

MacCready’s hands were strong and covered her whole head. She was going to tell him to make sure to really get into her roots, but she didn’t have to. The same focus and concentration he had through a scope, he took to her coils.

“How do I compare?” he asked, a cocky smirk in his tone.

Renée couldn’t help but cackle, “Compared to who? My mother? Or the women at the salon?”

“I don’t know. If you tell me I’m not as good as Ethel or Tiffany…”

“Ethel and Tiffany?” she laughed, “Why is that their names?”

“Old world names,” he shrugged.

They were too hysterical to help each other out with the conditioner. Every time MacCready started to touch her hair, he pretended to be Tiffany, and Renée kept doubling over from the joke. They had to scrub and rinse it out of their own hair.

She grabbed a washcloth when they were done.

“We’re not sharing that, are we?”

“Obviously not, RJ,” she rolled her eyes, “Turn around.”

“What? You’re going to wash me now?”

“That’s the idea, smartass.”

“Nah, uh, ladies first,” he took the sudsy cloth out of her hand, “You turn around.”

MacCready’s touch was rough, but thorough. He started with the back of her neck and went up behind her ears before moving on to her shoulders.

“Arm’s up,” he told her, and scrubbed her underarms as she lifted them. It tickled and she broke into squealing breathlessness. She felt him grow a bit behind her as she squirmed against him, a thickness starting to poke her bottom.

He brought the cloth down Renée’s spine next. One, slow stroke followed by a kiss to her shoulder, and she let out a long sigh. He meticulously attended to each part of her back, washing from left to right, top to bottom. Then he took the same level of attentiveness to her arms. One at a time, he wrapped them in the sudsy cloth before dragging it all the way down to her fingertips.

“The trick is getting under your fingernails,” he said scrubbing them, “Dirt likes to hide under there.”

“Oh, does it?” she chuckled.

MacCready washed his along with hers. Holding her hands as he scrubbed them, he traveled from her fingertips to his.

“Can’t wait for me to do that?”

“Not with what I have planned.”

“Really? And what would that be?”

“You’ll see.”

His confidence seemed to vanish when he asked her to turn around so that he could wash her other side. Renée noticed his eyes dart down.

He guiltily looked back up, “You ready?”

She snickered, “You like my boobies, RJ?”

His shock of laughter ricocheted boldly across the tile walls, echoing around them before he decided to play along, “I do, but they’re not nearly as nice as mine.”

The army had beaten the silly stick out of Nate. Renée was so used to his disgruntled reactions that time seemed to split out of MacCready’s playfulness. She found herself falling so easily into something familiar, affectionately provoking the man who made her melt. But RJ’s responses were so different. Not better, not worse. Just different, and she saw the moment play out both as what it was and what it wasn’t.

MacCready’s nervousness seemed to disappear when he brought the cloth over her throat and collarbone. Renée could feel her pulse race up by her ears. Then his hand moved over her heart and a calm rushed over her. A sigh came out like a half-sob.

“You okay?” His eyes and expression were tender with concern.

She nodded, “Just feels really nice.”

“I like it too.”

She smiled; her eyes still closed.

“Um, can I…?” he asked, staring at her breasts.

She caught his gaze, “Go ahead, RJ.”

“Man! I’ve thought about doing this—I mean!”

Her face already hurt from laughing so much, “It’s okay. I’ve thought about it too.”

“Then, um…” he brought the cloth over one and rubbed his hand over it.

“You feeling me up, MacCready? Or cleaning me?”

“Both,” he chuckled.

He took his time on each breast, and then brought an equal amount of care to her waist. When he finished washing her belly, he got on his knees and kissed the stretch marks adorning her hips.

“That’s dangerous,” she sighed.

“Nuh uh. Not yet.”

He rubbed the cloth all over her hips before bringing it between them.

“You ready?” he asked looking up at her.

She grabbed a fistful of his wet, clean hair, “Do it.”

He pulled the cloth between her legs, tenderly scrubbing every detail. She couldn’t help but laugh.

“You ever have anyone do this for you?”

“No,” she admitted, “It’s kind of weird. But I don’t mind you doing it.”

Still kneeling, he scrubbed her thighs next. RJ kissed her knees when he finished them, before moving onto her calves. Then he lifted her feet up one by one and even got between her toes.

“Not having your stinky feet in my sheets tonight.”

“I could easily kick you in the face right now, you know.”

“But you won’t.”

She almost fell backwards pretending to try. He caught her as she started to slip.

RJ saved the best for last, “Show me that a—spin around.”

She obliged, “Is this situation not explicit enough yet for you to curse in?”

“Not yet.”

Renée felt the smack of the wet rag bounce off her ass and gasped.

“Shit! Was that okay? I mean—Shoot was that okay?”

She wiggled her hips, “Do it again.”

She felt it hit the other side.

MacCready scrubbed each of her cheeks individually before getting between them. And once he got between them, he seemed to never want to leave.

“You good back there?”

“Uh… too good.”

You could hear her stupid grin in her tone, “I must be pristine enough now to eat off of.”

“And good enough to.”

His words and the ragged way they came out bewitched her.

“You can put your face closer if you like.”

She felt his nose brush against her cheek and caught the groan in his throat.

“You like my ass, RJ?”

“Yes.”

She smiled, feeling like a femme fatale from one of Nate’s movies, “I bet you want to eat it.”

“I do. Please, boss. Please let me taste your ass.”

He said “Boss” like it was the name of a deity. It made Renée want him to pin her down and tear her to pieces.

“Go ahead, merc. Eat it.”

His tongue went right for her asshole with a high, desperate moan. Renée braced herself against the wall and spread her legs apart as he licked around it and sucked. He squeezed her cheeks in his hands, crushing his face between them.

His moaning and gasping under the flow of water was driving her mad, “I need you RJ.”

It took him a moment to pull away, “You’ve gotta wash me off first. But I guess… Since I like ya, I could let you cum.”

“Please,” she begged, arching her back.

He resumed his task, bringing his fingers to her front. He teased them along her folds as he indulged in her ass. She felt so good he bit her ass on the cheek and moaned.

His fingertips found her stiffened clit and traced circles over and around it. He resisted the urge to feel inside of her until she pleaded more. When he finally just had to, Renée cried out with relief.

“More!” she demanded again.

He added another finger.

“More!”

And another. In fact, he ran out of fingers before she ran out of demands. RJ pumped in and out of her with his whole fist as his other hand teased her clit. His tongue played with her asshole and licked up and down her crevice.

He didn’t stop until she screamed and clenched around him.

He held her steady until she regained her balance, her knees having gone weak. She turned around. He was still kneeling, and she was still shaking.

“Your turn,” she panted.

They laughed as he stood up and Renée changed out the washcloth. MacCready held his mouth open under the water and rinsed it out a few times.

“I want you to kiss me,” he explained when he caught her watching.

Renée could barely even think, so she stole RJ’s scrubbing technique starting with his back. His shoulders somehow seemed even wider without his clothes on.

“You’ve got moles.”

“Guilty.”

“I like them. One, two, three… four, five of them. They look pretty on you.”

“Pretty? Me?”

“Yeah. I said what I said.”

He chuckled, “Thank you.”

“In fact… You’ve got a lot of pretty things on you, RJ. For example…”

Renée liked how she could tell from the back of his head that he had his brow raised.

She reached around to his front and grabbed hold of what she was looking for, “I think your dick is one of the prettiest ones I’ve ever seen.”

She could feel it pulse in her grip, throbbing as thickly as the heart inside her chest. Her breasts pressed into his back, and she could feel the echo of his own heartbeat under his skin.

MacCready’s body tensed when she let go of it. She resumed scrubbing his back.

Renée cleared her throat, but neither of them talked. She just kept washing him in the same way he washed her. Top to bottom, chest to toes. Until there she was on her knees, face-to-face with his cock as the water beat down over her head.

“All clean.”

MacCready had a hungry, far-away expression on his strained face as he ran his hands through her wet hair. His eyes rolled back as she took hold of his shaft and placed her lips at its head. She opened her mouth, and he let himself be consumed.

He groaned and gave into it a bit before lifting Renée off her knees.

“I can’t get enough of this,” he said through a mouthful of kissing her.

“I need you, RJ.”

“Say it again.”

“I need you.”

They were slippery, but MacCready still managed to lift her up into a similar embrace from this morning. With her legs wrapped around his hips, he guided himself between her thighs and dove inside her. She greeted him with a high, ecstatic whine and a gasp.

He leaned in for another kiss. It was his new favorite thing, rutting deep within her while messing with her tongue.

“I want more,” Renée moaned into him.

He groaned from the frustration of leaving her lips, “Wanna get on the floor?”

She nodded and he carefully let her down after pulling out.

Renée got on all fours with her ass up and felt MacCready catch it in his strong grip.

“Get back inside me,” she begged.

“You really want me?��

“I want you deep, please.”

She gasped as he put in his full length, with his big, rough hands wrapped around her hips adding power to his thrust. She could feel his balls clap against her as he continued to bash himself into her again and again. It shocked her how much she liked that. It sent waves and rushes of blood from her stomach to her toes.

“Fuck me,” she shouted over the water. It echoed, bouncing between the tiles.

He slowed down and she groaned.

“Cum for me and I’ll go fast again.”

It was already happening before he asked. When he felt her tighten and pulse, he sped up.

Renée’s head felt the same as it did after a second hit of psycho jet. Nothing in all her fantasies of him could have prepared her for the feeling of an orgasm being torn out of her right on top of a waning one the way it was happening now.

“I’m still cumming,” she squealed in a voice she didn’t recognize.

He just moaned, and that echoed through the shower too.

Renée felt incredibly stupid when the next wave came on. Nothing of herself was left but a sensation that compared to having her soul sucked out of her body through his cock. No thoughts. No sense of being. Just a vague sense that if he stopped now, it would kill her.

“I’m cumming,” she heard him shout, “Oh god, I’m cumming!”

The sound of his voice was far from her consciousness. Consumed with sharp pleasure, her being was boiling inside her center and being torn apart like a star meeting a black hole.

It was like she could feel his climax on top of hers. Like the bruise of two good aches stacked on top of each other.

The sensations finally let go of them. He fell back onto the shower floor in a daze, and she settled onto his lap. They sat there holding each other under the water with the best kind of overwhelm.

Finally, MacCready was able to speak, “Can we get out now? Kinda getting sick of all this water.”

Renée kissed him in agreement, laughing her mind back into her head.

* * * * * *

“Codsworth make this too?” MacCready asked as Renée rubbed lotion on his back. He was lying on his stomach on her brand-new bed, in what was a completely different loft than the one from before. It was well-lit, clean, and colorful; with Grognak posters covering the walls and bright green plants in every possible corner. She straddled him, still naked, running her hands all over the length of his back.

“No, um… Actually, this one was a… a gift.”

Her response was uncharacteristically cagey, but she sounded more shy than secretive. MacCready wasn’t about to pass that up.

“From?” he poked.

“A certain… a certain singer at the Third Rail.”

“Magnolia?!”

“Don’t start!”

She could see his heaves of laughter through his back.

“You fucked Maggie?”

“Wait, she lets you call her Maggie?”

“Not to her face.”

Renée playfully smacked him between shoulder blades. It was gentle, but he acted like it wasn’t.

“Ow!” he laughed.

“Oh no, my hands slipped!” she said unconvincingly, “They’re just so lotion-y.”

“Uh, huh.”

“Wait, did you fuck her too? Did we fuck the same person?”

“I tried,” he shrugged, which from his current position was more like a squeeze of his shoulders.

Renée laughed, “Damn do I have better game than you, RJ?”

He twisted around and pulled her squealing down onto the bed. Again, he found himself all over her mouth like it was a drug.

“Holy shit, where have you been?” he asked breathlessly.

“Language!” she teased, “And right the fuck in front of you. This whole time!”

“Sharing the same bed,” he laughed.

“You’re an idiot, RJ.”

“I really am!”

“No! You’re not!” she pouted.

“Okay. I’m not.”

She smiled again, “That’s better.”

Looking at him like that, she found words that felt like a betrayal. She was only supposed to find those words while lost in different-colored eyes. They were the only thing on her mind, the only thing she wanted to say. But they felt like spitting on the dead, so she held her tongue.

MacCready knew her better than that, knew there was always a story behind her knitted brows.

“What’s up?” he asked, suddenly serious.

She smirked without any levity in it. Then she just shrugged. MacCready took the hint to just sit there and hold her.

“Moving on…" she started hesitantly, “Moving on means not holding back with each other for the sake of the past, right?”

“Right. I’d say so.” He didn’t know where this was going, but he was patient.

“And that doesn’t erase them? Moving on?”

Something in her tone made him think of Duncan. It shared a quality with the way he’d ask if there were monsters in the night.

He thought for a moment, searching for the best answer.

“I don’t see how anything ever could.”

Renée buried her face in his chest. She groaned a few times, and lightly banged her head against his bones before speaking again, “The things I want to tell you feel like cheating even though I saw him die.”

“I think I know what you mean.”

“Yeah.”

“You don’t have to say anything before you’re ready to, but can you tell me one thing?”

“Hmm?”

“Is it good or bad?”

“Good.”

“Good.” He breathed a sigh of relief that made her head lift and go down with his chest.

“I just… um…” Renée bit her lip, “And I’m not saying that I’ve never been satisfied or that Nate was bad or anything. Okay?”

“Uh, okay.”

“I’ve just… I never… I don’t think I’ve ever cum that hard before. Like I’ve done it, but I’ve never felt that.”

She looked up to find the most disgustingly smug expression on his lips.

“Oh, fuck off with that,” she warned him.

“What?” he was grinning so hard that his voice was strained with self-satisfaction.

She just lowered her eyes.

He softened his, “Hey, come here.”

His hand consumed the side of her face and she shut her glare with contentment.

“I don’t know if what I felt was more intense or just different, but I know I haven’t felt anything like that since Lucy. And you two are impossible to compare.”

“Lucky. I can’t help comparing you and Nate.”

“That’s okay too. A little scary, but okay.”

She chuckled, “You really don’t compare us?”

“It’s not that I can’t, it’s—Okay I know this sounds silly, but I don’t compare you because it would break my heart. Not because you’re better or worse! Not anything like that. But because it’s… It’s not fair. You can love Nate forever, and I can love Lucy forever, but they’re not here. We get to feel this, and be this together, and they’re just dead.”

Renée adjusted her arms to hold him tighter. They stayed there like that for a while, holding onto each other as a tether against cosmic injustice.

She spoke again to lighten the moment, “Magnolia was my first here. After Nate.”

“Maybe it was the blue vault suit.”

“Oh, are you not gonna let this go now? That I’m better than you?”

“It’s tight in all the right places.”

“RJ!”

MacCready sat up, bringing Renée into his lap. They were both naked, their cleaned skin still drinking up the lotion they’d put on after their shower.

He held the back of her neck and spoke so close to her lips that they touched on certain words, “And after Magnolia?”

“Just some guy.”

She’d save the story about Pickman for later. It was a long one, and she was enjoying the way he was so close to her mouth too much to interrupt it.

“And then?”

“And then you.”

The way he finally grabbed her lips was hungry.

“And then?” he asked again.

Her eyes were soft, “And then just you.”

“Yeah?” his voice had a desperate hitch.

“Yeah.”

“Say it.”

“Just you, RJ. Only you.”

“For how long?” he asked, kissing all over her neck.

“Forever,” she admitted, “Is that crazy?”

“Yes. But I like it.”

It was their first time in a bed. Not a pantry wall or a shower. It was the first time he threw her legs over his shoulders and heard her scream his name into his chest.

It was the second time she came that hard.

Afterwards, only MacCready could speak, and then it was only one word, “Cigarettes?”

The terrace was the best part of Renée’s impulse purchase. All the buildings in Diamond City were ugly, but seeing rooftops sparkle in the city-lit darkness always had some kind of magic to it. No matter where you were or how good the view.

Plus, it gave her a place to smoke.

“We smoke inside all the time.”

“Yeah, but not anywhere that’s ours. This is my house. I bought it. We smoke outside.”

“Woooow,” he took a drag, “Take off your shoes, smoke outside… You’ve got rules.”

“I do.”

“And here I thought you were the lawless type.”

“I am! People are complex, RJ.”

He laughed.

Then he wrapped an arm around her and said, “I wish we never had to go.”

He felt her nod against his shoulder.

“Hey, Renée?”

She looked up at him with her cat-like blue eyes, a trail of smoke leaving her lips, “RJ?”

He kissed her once before he spoke, “I love you. Big time.”

She smiled, “Big time?”

“Huge,” he grinned.

“I love you big time back.”

* * * * * *

They fell into a pattern for the next few precious days. From the bed to the terrace, and the terrace to the bed, they dragged each other into a blissful oblivion.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t in the stars for them to stay. Reality waited by the door. It hovered on the welcome mat, haunting their ecstatic pause.

One night, smoking on the terrace, MacCready opened the door and let it in.

“Daisy, uh… Daisy said I could leave with one of her caravans to visit the homestead.”

“When—?”

He took a drag and ashed his cigarette, “Transmission came through today. Duncan’s doing great.”

MacCready’s voice got caught in his throat at the end of that sentence. Happiness and relief welled in his eyes, as did all his pent-up worry.

Of course Renée was happy, ridiculously so, but she’d literally killed for the moment RJ was having, and would kill again as many times as it took to have it herself. They knew Duncan was okay, and where he was. He was safe, cared for. MacCready had the chance to see him, hold him again. All while they still knew next to nothing about Shaun.

Renée spoke over the envy lodged in her throat, “That’s so great!”

They embraced and cried, celebrating that one of their children was going to make it.

“You need to be there, RJ.”

“I know. Would you—?”

She shook her head, “We’re almost ready to storm Ft. Hagen. I’d love to! But I have to be here.”

“Wish I could be here for that.”

“I know, me too.”

“I’m sorry I won’t be.”

“Please don’t apologize. It’s Duncan.”

He squeezed her tight, “You’re going to find Shaun.”

For the first time, she let herself feel her full fear. Her voice trembled, “We’ve already waited so long.”

Her cries were muffled by his jacket where she buried her face. MacCready held Renée while she broke apart. Months of terror, uncertainty, and searching came crashing out of her in hyperventilating cascades. His emotions escaped with hers, and they stood there purging every feeling until they had nothing left inside.

He got them water when they calmed down. Then they sat down and smoked until the sun came up.

One more day together, and then they’d make the trek back to Goodneighbor.

“Maybe when I’m back, we’ll be able to figure everything out for the four of us,” MacCready said as they sat there on her roof, “You, me, Duncan, and Shaun.”

Renée squeezed his hand, “I hope so.”

#sole survivor/maccready #smut #fluff #renee kilburn #fallout #fallout 4 #full fic #sole survivor x maccready #maccready x sole survivor #waking up fic #BrishFics

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