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the story of love: going back | daminette

summary: marinette returns to college francois dupont.

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Marinette inhaled deeply as she stood in front of College Francois Dupont.

Damian noticed – he was far too observant sometimes – and placed a kiss on her temple. “Everything’s going to be okay, Angel,” he promised.

Marinette believed him.

As she walked into the school with Damian, everyone stopped what they were doing to stare unabashedly at her and Damian.

When she walked by, Marinette could hear people whispering, dating Damian Wayne and our Marinette Dupain-Cheng? Dating him?

But she ignored them.

**

“Ms Dupain-Cheng, please reconsider your transfer-” whimpered Mssr. Damocles.

Marinette interrupted him sweetly. “With all due respect, sir-” which means none at all, you sniveling idiot, “I am not going to change my mind. Now, please, hand me my transfer papers.”

With a trembling hand, Damocles finally gave the papers to her. “You will have to go back to your classroom, to collect your belongings,” he said faintly.

Marinette was well aware that the only reason he wanted her here was to make his school more popular – not because he cared about her. He never did.

As she and Damian walked out of his office, Damian gave her an appreciative smile. “You handled that situation amazingly, Angel. I’m proud of you.”

Several students stopped to gawk at them when he said that.

Marinette giggled softly and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you, Dami.”

“Are you sure you want to go to your class?” asked Damian worriedly. “I could get your stuff for you, if you want.”

Marinette stroked his cheek fondly. It was nice of him to offer but she had to do this herself. “No, Dami. As much as I would, I can’t. I need closure and so do my classmates.”

Damian scoffed at the mention of her classmates. “Your old-” he emphasized the ‘old’, “-classmates need nothing of the sort. I would like to make the pay for what they did.”

Marinette smirked slyly. “Who said you can’t?”

Lila Rossi had absolutely no idea what the hell was going on.

That morning, while she got ready for school, she expected everyone to welcome her and worship her feet when she walked in.

What she wasn’t expecting was the cold glares and derisive sneers she got from literally everyone in the school.

Like, had Hawkmoth sent another akuma or something? Because otherwise she was going to have a chat with him about it.

When she walked into Mdm. Bustier’s class, Lila hoped at least her sheep would believe her grand tales of Prince Ali’s palace but no one gave her a single glance.

In fact, everyone, including Mdm. Bustier, was glaring at her.

Mdm. Bustier eyed her coldly and asked, “Would you like to explain your lies, Lila?”

Before she could come up with another lie, Lila was interrupted by none other than her worst enemy.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

Lila smirked victoriously. No matter if her lies were discovered.

She could pin this on Marinette.

Marinette walked in confidently into her former class.

Seems like everyone was about to gang up on Lie-la, she thought with spiteful amusement.

You could hardly blame Marinette though. Lie-la had made her life a living hell for quite some time now. It was nice to know she would be paying for it.

She was snapped out of her not-so-nice thoughts when Alya yelled, “Marinette!”

The glasses-wearing girl tackled her in a hug – as if they had never stopped being friends, as if she had never ignored her, as if she hadn’t bullied her.

Alya seemed to be oblivious to the fact that her hug was one-sided. Marinette’s arms stayed firmly and stiffly by her side.

When Marinette gave no response to her, Alya finally backed away and looked at her – really looked at her – which meant looking at her stony expression.

“Marinette? What’s wrong?” she faltered, looking at her classmates for help.

And suddenly, they were all clamoring at her yelling about how good it was to have her back and how much they missed her as if they had never broken her heart. As if they weren’t the reason she spent hours wondering why she wasn’t enough for them. As if she they weren’t the reasons she spent innumerable nights crying herself to sleep.

Marinette could feel the anger building inside her body and was currently trying to resist the urge to let it out while simultaneously attempting not to get akumatized.

Hawkmoth was a man without a life and she wasn’t about to show weakness to the likes of him.

Completely ignoring her silence, her classmates and teacher (with the exception of Lila, of course) continued without abandon until finally, finally they shut up and by their fearful expressions – she knew why.

Showing the first semblance of emotions since she got to this hellhole called a class, Marinette flung her arms around her boyfriend and kissed him recklessly – completely ignoring her former-classmates as they had before and had continued to do so for years.

“Miss me?” Damian whispered against her lips.

Marinette nodded fervently. “The sooner we get out of here, the better.”

It finally, occurred to someone named Adrien that Marinette hadn’t said a word since she entered this cursed classroom.

In a voice that would have had her blushing mere months ago, he asked, “Mari, why haven’t you said anything? Aren’t you happy to see us?”

And then suddenly, the rest of the class was asking favors from her: Mari, will you give me a leg up (Literally everyone); An interview (Alya); A business deal (Adrien).

That was what tipped her over the edge, and judging by Damian’s smirk he knew it too.

Alya was shocked to see the anger that blossomed on Marinette’s face when Adrien said that.

“‘Happy to see you’” she snarled, eyes practically radiating pure anger. “You all could go and rot in hell for all I care.”

Rearing back in fear, Alya said, outraged, “What? But we’re your friends, Mari. How could you say something like that?”

Bad move, darling.

Marinette spun towards her, fists clenching. “Friends, huh?” she spat the word out. “Then where were you when I said Lila was lying? Oh, that’s right…you didn’t believe me!”

Using her momentary pause, Alya interrupted. “But you didn’t have any proof-”

“I was your best friend, Alya, you’re supposed to believe things like that without question.” Marinette glared at her. “And even if you didn’t, you were supposed to do some research about it, weren’t you?”

“But you were jealous! Jealous of your crush on Adrien!” Alya didn’t feel an ounce of guilt for what she said. She half expected Marinette to blush then and there.

It only served to make her angrier. “Yeah? Then who was the one to plan Kagami and Adrien’s date, huh? Me, that’s who!” Marinette advanced like a lion, Alya being the prey. “Then, pray tell me, how could I be jealous when I planned his date with another girl?”

Alya had no answer to that.

Marinette poked a finger into her chest, managing to look bigger even with her short stature. “I”ll tell you why. Because you. Were. A. SHIT. Best friend.”

Alya flinched at every word, knowing somewhere deep, deep down that it was true.

Adrien thought it was time to intervene.

Alya one of the most bull-headed girls he knew – though it served to be a flaw in this case, he thought regretfully – looked like she was going to cry.

“Marinette,” he said gently. “I think you need to calm down before you attract an akuma.”

Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say because he was her next target and Adrien couldn’t help but feel a little frightened. Especially, when the Wayne was standing there with a cocky smirk.

“Before I attract an akuma?” Marinette mimicked furiously. “Well, guess what, Adrien, ever since you told me to use the ‘high road’ I attracted 26 akumas because of you!”

Adrien flinched at her volume and Wayne’s sudden glare.

“What do you mean?” asked Rose, sweet Rose.

Marinette looked at him with a terrifying smile. Adrien felt his heart sink. He had a feeling this wasn’t going to end well for him.

“Adrien,” she said with an eerie calm. “Knew Lila was lying the whole time.”

The class was only able to stare at him in silent shock.

Marinette smirked at him so coldly, Adrien shivered. “And if you’re so concerned about people getting akumatized, then why the hell didn’t you stop your ‘best friend’ Chloe Bourgeois from causing more than half of the akumatizations in the whole of Paris?”

Adrien had nothing to say.

Because he knew she was right.

Caline Bustier did not like the direction this discussion was going in.

The whole class was hounding on Adrien like a pack of dogs and Marinette – her once role-model – was the cause of it.

What happened to the sweet girl she knew?

She didn’t realize she said it out loud until everyone had descended into silence.

Marinette shot her an icy glare. “The ‘sweet girl you knew’” she encased that in finger quotes. “-was a doormat, Bustier.”

Caline flinched.

Ignoring her discomfort, Marinette continued being brutally honest. “That girl would spend nights awake doing jobs for her friends – which you forced her to do – for free, the only payment being a ‘thank you.’ That girl let you dump all of your responsibilities as a teacher on her.”

Caline tried to protest against that. “I didn’t-”

“-dump all of your responsibilities on me?” finished Marinette. “You did. I was the one to plan all the class trips when it should have been you. I was the one to look after the class though it was your job. So tell me Bustier, how is it not?”

Seeing as she had no response, Marinette continued, the fire blazing brighter than ever. “And that bullshit about being the bigger person. Absolute rubbish. Forgiving and forgetting doesn’t make the bully stop. It encourages them. You’re a shit teacher Bustier and you don’t deserve to be one.”

Caline flinched when she heard Marinette use that profanity.

It didn’t make it any less true.

Marinette felt lighter than she had in years. It felt freeing to let all those feelings out.

“Now,” she said, sweetly as if she would have done before. “To the rest of my former-classmates. I hate you, and I hope I never, ever see you again because you all absolutely suck.”

She felt a spiteful sort of satisfaction when she saw their shocked faces.

As Marinette held her hand out, she asked, “My stuff please?”

Lila’s head was reeling. What the hell was happening?

She expected Marinette to accept those idiot’s apologies, not blow up at them!

Nothing was going her way today.

Except for one thing…

Lila allowed herself a tiny smirk when she saw a purple butterfly floating into the room – straight towards Marinette.

Oh no you don’t.

She launched herself up onto a table and trapped the akuma in between her arms. By then, the entire class had noticed her acrobatics and fallen into silent horror when they saw what she did.

But she didn’t care.

After beating Ladybug, Lila would take both of the miraculous and rule the world! She was astounding, wasn’t she?

As she inserted the akuma into her bracelet, she smirked. “Hello, Hawkmoth,” she purred.

“Mdm. Rossi, do you mind?” he hissed through their connection. “I could finally akumatize my target and you came in between.”

Lila felt her heart stop beating in shock. “What?” she gasped. “You want Maribrat to defeat Ladybug? I am so much better!”

She stamped her foot for emphasis, ignoring the people in the room.

Hawkmoth sighed as if she was a 2-year-old child throwing a tantrum. “Don’t you see Mdm. Rossi?” he said with exasperation. “You were only a pawn and perhaps a slightly useful weapon in my game. Marinette Dupain-Cheng was my ultimate akuma to defeat Ladybug and Chat Noir.”

Leaving Lila to drown in her outrage, Hawkmoth swiftly guided the akuma from her bracelet and into Marinette’s purse.

Marinette stiffened as she felt Hawkmoth assert his control on her.

“Princess Justice,” he crooned. “I am Hawkm-”

Through his usual spiel, Marinette heard Damian pleading her not to give in.

“-Angel, you need to fight him.” Damian was saying, ignoring her idiot class’s shock at seeing him speak.

Hawkmoth taking no notice of her thoughts, continued. “I will give you the power to make everyone who has wronged you pay-”

Oh, hell no.

Marinette spoke to him for the first time, interrupting his speech. “Does that ‘everyone’ include you, Hawkmoth?”

Taking his silence as a cue to continue, she said, “Because, honestly? My life was a million times better when you didn’t even exist.”

Regaining his tongue, Hawkmoth smoothly said, “Perhaps, after you have made everyone one else pay and have got me-”

“Ladybug and Chat Noir’s miraculous?” Marinette scoffed. “As if. Unless, of course, you’re willing to let me make you pay first.”

Marinette knew he wouldn’t do that.

“Absolutely not-” Hawkmoth tried to finish and persuade her but she interrupted again.

“Then I don’t give a damn.” Marinette growled into the connection. “I will not get akumatized for nothing.”

She examined her purse lightly. “And, just to be clear, I wouldn’t have accepted your akuma anyway.”

Ignoring Hawkmoth’s protests, she continued. “If you try to akumatize me or anyone else in this room, Hawkmoth, I’ll find you and make sure you pay. Starting with a hunt for your head.”

That was not a threat to take lightly.

With that, Marinette tore a teensy-weensy piece of her purse and smirked victoriously as the akuma hurriedly flew away.

Hawkmoth wouldn’t bother her for a while.

As she walked out of the class, Marinette made a mental note to put a restraining order on Alya and Adrien because she had a feeling they wouldn’t leave her alone.

That night, Adrien felt lonelier than ever. After Marinette had left the class with her boyfriend, his friend – no former-friends – made him an outcast.

Which essentially meant he didn’t have any friends except for Chloe.

Adrien expected some kind of support from Plagg, but the only thing his kwami said was, “I told you what to do, kid. You didn’t listen. You made your own bed – now its time to sleep in it.”

The irony was not lost on him. Adrien had never made his own bed in his life.

He was startled out of his thoughts when the last person he was expecting to come jumped into the room.

Ladybug.

Adrien jumped out of his seat and rubbed his neck sheepishly. “Ladybug!”

Only, there was something wrong with his lady. Her pretty blue eyes were ice cold and she wasn’t smiling at all. “Chat Noir,” she said stonily.

Adrien opened his mouth to respond but he was unable to speak when he realized what she said. “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about!” he said nervously.

“Save it.” Ladybug walked closer to him. “I asked Tikki who you are.”

Eyes brightening, Adrien beamed at her. “Does that mean you’ll show me who you are?”

Ladybug hugged him. That was not a response he was expecting.

Nevertheless, Adrien hugged her back, bathing in her scent.

His ears registered her saying, “I’m sorry.”

And the next second, his ring was slipped of his finger and she was smirking at him. “that I’m not sorry, at all.”

Adrien gaped at her. “My Lady! What are you doing? Why are you taking my miraculous away?”

His Lady eyed him critically. “I’ll tell you why. Because you are not fit to be a miraculous-holder. Adrien Agreste, you have misused the miraculous of the Black Cat for your own selfish gain putting the civilians of Paris in danger.”

“But My Lady! We are meant to be!” Adrien whimpered.

“No we are not.” Ladybug said harshly. “This is exactly why your miraculous is being taken from you. You cannot accept the fact that it is not true.”

Adrien was on his knees now, begging. “Please, My Lady. You can’t do this.”

“I can and will.” Ladybug did not look in the least sorry. In fact, she looked relieved? “Because Adrien Agreste you are not worthy of the mantle of a superhero.”

And she launched herself out of the window. With his final friend. With his freedom.

Adrien cried himself to sleep that night, unable to understand why his Lady to his miraculous.

The next day, Marinette felt a huge weight lifted off her shoulders. Finally.

She didn’t realize how much her former-classmates’ actions were bothering her until she let it all out.

When she walked out of the bakery, she saw Alya and Adrien loitering by.

“Marinette! Will you-” “Marinette! I’m sorr-”

Marinette interrupted them both. “You both are meant to stay 20ft away from me. Didn’t you get the papers of the restraining order?”

They both refused to meet her eyes as they backed away slowly. Alya because her parents would murder her if she did anything else and Adrien because, well, he needed to keep Gabriel’s reputation squeaky clean didn’t he?

**

As she walked out walked on the Parisian sidewalks with her boyfriend’s arm around her waist (whose hand, she might add had a new silver ring on it), Marinette felt that she could take the world on with Damian by her side.

Bring it on Hawkmoth.

pretending to get married to your best friend so you can schedule free cake tasting with shops all over town and slowly falling in love along the way

𝐂𝐚𝐧 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐌𝐲 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭?

Pairing: Virgin!Basement Era!Gerard Way x AFAB!Reader Summary: You and Gerard have been best friends for four years. After years of ignoring your crush on him due to your feelings of inadequacy, it begins to seem like maybe he likes you as well...but like always, your personal issues seem to get in the way. Warnings: Gerard is a complete and total virgin but its implied reader is not, oral sex (M receiving), P in V sex, high school AU but they're both 18, lots of angst, kinda slow burn, self-hatred, substance abuse and reader is depressed if you squint, drug use (not by Gee or reader), making out Word Count: 6.5k

If you had been different, you would have kissed Gerard by now.

This thought flashed constantly through your mind every time you were around him. And there were times where you thought you might anyway. Times where you were with him in his basement bedroom as he ranted about the latest cartoon he was watching, curled up on the opposite side of the couch as he was. When it would have been so easy to lean over and place your lips on his, rake your hands through his hair, maybe push yourself into his lap. Maybe do more.

But you never did. Because the thing was, Gerard was the sweetest person you knew. Gerard, who you had met the second day of freshman year when you’d dropped your lunch on the floor in the cafeteria, who had helped you clean up the mess while other students stepped around you or snickered. Gerard, who despite his shy nature had quickly become one of your best friends. Gerard, who would always lend you his sweater if you were cold, knowing even if you didn’t say anything. Who you would rant and cry to about failed romance after failed romance, relationships you knew didn’t work out mainly because of your poor decisions, who would pick you up late at night when you got drunk at some random house party and needed a ride home. Gerard, who was loving and gentle. And you were a mess.

You already felt bad enough about how much he cared for you, knowing you could never truly reciprocate everything he did for you. You knew there was something deeply wrong with you that never allowed you to truly care for someone else in a healthy way. Dragging him into your messy life further than he already was, surely would not result in anything good happening. You loved so hard and overbearingly, and you were scared to drown Gerard—Who you knew had never had a girlfriend, let alone had his first kiss. So how would he be able to handle you? You didn’t wonder about this in an egotistical way. You didn’t believe you were a catch, anything particularly special, in fact you felt quite the opposite. You simply couldn’t imagine a boy as pure and innocent and kind as him not getting overwhelmed by you.

If you had been different, you would have kissed Gerard by now. But you would settle for stolen stares and brief, fleeting touches that meant nothing. There was no harm in that, right?

On Saturday afternoons, you would go over to Gerard’s house, spending the afternoon doing homework and watching horror movies. You would never admit it, but it was what you looked forward to the most every week. The thought of having to go home at the end of the day felt nearly unbearable every time. One day in February, he was walking you home after several pleasant hours of slasher movies and pizza, the winter air crisp, sharp against your lungs. You buried yourself into your coat, eyes flitting over to him.

The pale sunlight cast against his skin made him look undeniably beautiful. In that moment, you wanted to throw caution into the wind and kiss him, to not care about any consequences that may come with the action. These thoughts caused your eyes to flicker down to his lips, an action that unbeknownst to you, he caught, his cheeks dusting a light pink. Your gaze snapped away from his face and onto the ground in front of you when you realized Gerard had stopped talking about his theory about the next Scream movie. You were saved from the awkwardness by arriving at your front door.

You turned to him. “Thanks for walking me,” you said quietly, even though he always did. You stepped forward and gave him a hug, his arms carefully wrapping around your back. He was so gentle. He was always so gentle, and it made your heart squeeze painfully. You pulled away after a moment and looked up at him, his hands immediately leaving your body as you did. He looked slightly flustered. You tried to act as if that alone didn’t make you want to pull him in and—

“I’ll see you at school on Monday,” he mumbled, ruffling your hair awkwardly before turning around and walking away without a glance back at you. You watched him go for a moment before entering your house, shutting out the cold but also the chance to stare at him a little longer. Not that that would do you any good.

It was so frustrating. You were trying, trying so hard to ignore your feelings, but the way Gerard was acting was making it nearly impossible to do so. Whenever you felt like you had successfully pushed down your crush, he did something to remind you of it again. The two of you had been close for years, but the way he looked at you sometimes, especially recently, felt different.

You would catch him staring every so often, while you were doing your homework at his kitchen table or watching a movie. It made you wonder if he felt about you the way you felt about him. Which sent you down another spiral. With all your issues, did he genuinely believe you were worth it? You hoped that he did while simultaneously telling yourself it didn't matter in the first place, that there was no chance he even thought of you that way.

The following Monday at school, you saw him only briefly in the halls, but the slightly tense moment the two of you had shared on Saturday kept you from speaking to him, opting instead to look away quickly as you tried to hide the blush that would creep onto your skin. However, you and Gerard had been paired together for a small project in Chemistry.

Luckily, he seemed unfazed by the interaction that weekend. Unfortunately for your workflow, he received the latest issue of Fangoria the previous night, so his rambling about it distracted you from actually working on the assignment. When the bell rang, he was still speaking about the magazine.

“Shit. We didn’t finish the worksheet, did we,” he said with an embarrassed huff, pushing some hair behind his ear. You smirked at him, amused.

“No, we did not. But you did manage to spoil the entirety of the new Fangoria for me,” you responded teasingly, bumping his shoulder gently with yours.

He blushed slightly. “Oh. Sorry.” He said sheepishly. “We can go to my house after school and finish it. The worksheet. If you’re free,” sounding a bit more nervous than he usually did when he asked you to come over.

You agreed, and parted ways for the rest of the day. After school, he was waiting for you by the main entrance, his hair messy as it always was, his eyes squinted and darting around, searching for you. You waved and ran up to him, absentmindedly wrapping your hand around his upper arm as you began to walk next to him.You could have sworn the tips of his ears flushed at the contact, but ignored it. It could’ve just been the cold.

His hand tentatively reached around your lower back, resting respectfully on the side of your hip. Your heart began to beat a little faster than normal. He usually wasn’t very touchy, even though you were—not like you minded.

After the two of you had finished the worksheet, you spent the afternoon together drawing, sitting on opposite sides of his bed together, the soft sound of the radio playing in the background. You felt Gerard’s gaze constantly flickering over to you, making it hard to focus on your sketch of the view outside his window, something you’d drawn a numerous amount of times. After a while, you became restless, distracted by his eyes on you, and set your sketchbook aside. “What’re you drawing?” You asked him suddenly, looking to him.

He immediately glanced away from you, his face turning a slight pink, trying to subtly tilt his sketchbook away from you. “Nothing,” he said unconvincingly, which piqued your interest even more. You wondered what he possibly could be sketching that he didn’t want you to see.

“Come on, please?” When he didn’t budge, you leaned over to see what he had been working on. Your eyes widened as you saw what it was.

You. He was drawing you. Curled up against his bed frame, your eyes narrowed in concentration. He had captured your essence perfectly, as if he’d studied you for so long that he was able to meticulously catch your energy and place it onto a piece of paper. The realization seemed to enter your bloodstream and curl its way into your heart, flooding you with a dreaded hope that you already knew wasn’t going to do any good. You didn’t speak, just looked up at him. Neither of you dared to break the silence, the eye contact you were holding intense enough to drown out any thoughts.

His widened eyes flickered down to your lips. Once. Twice. You had been leaning forward to see the drawing, your weight on your arms in front of you, and in the back of your mind you registered that your palms were pressed into the mattress on either side of his body. The two of you were so close you could feel his breath on your skin. Noses almost brushing, lips almost meeting, causing a tingling sensation of anticipation across your skin. Almost. Out of nowhere, you got a startling snap of reality. Almost there, but not quite enough. You were not enough. Not enough to lean forward just a couple more inches.

As his eyelids began to flutter shut, you suddenly felt just as embarrassed as he’d looked when you’d asked to see his drawing, warmth spreading to your cheeks. You retreated at the last moment, clearing your throat. “Um. It’s good. It looks good. The drawing,” you stumbled over your words.

Gerard looked confused as you spoke, and you wished you hadn’t seen the flicker of disappointment across his features. “The drawing,” he repeated, blinking slowly. “Thanks.”

“I should go,” you said after a heavy silence. He opened his mouth to speak, but you were already gathering your things and heading for the stairs to leave the basement. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” were your final words as you retreated from the room. You didn’t turn back, no matter how much you wanted to. As you trudged home, countless thoughts were swirling through your brain. The further you walked from his house, the further you separated yourself from the possibilities the afternoon could have held. You could have kissed Gerard. The boy who you’d been yearning for since the beginning of high school, for four years. Who was kinder than any guy you’d ever been with, but the only one you were scared of kissing.

You could easily imagine his lips against yours, how gentle they’d be, but also the thoughts that were bound to flood your mind if that were to happen. You knew you’d feel like you were taking something away from him, you knew you’d feel as if his untouched lips deserved someone better than you to share a first kiss with. That night, you tossed and turned in bed, not able to get the sketch he’d made of you out of your head. The flawless portrayal of your facial expression and body language made you wonder if maybe this wasn’t the first time he’d drawn you. Your stomach twisted painfully at the thought.

Gerard was too good for you. This was something you’d believed for a long time. But for some reason, you still couldn’t shake the feeling that you should have leaned in. To his face, to your desires, to the opportunity that had quite literally been right in front of you.

Throughout the next few days at school, you avoided him as much as possible. Which deemed to not be so difficult, seeing as he seemed to be doing the same to you. That bothered you more than it should have. You wanted him to speak to you, ask you why you weren’t talking to him, beg you to. But the thought of going up to him made your stomach drop. It was a clear paradox, just like everything revolving around how you felt about him. He made your head spin, and it was impossible to shut him out of it.

After several days of your mind being clouded by him, you turned to the most idiotic solution for your emotional turbulence, but not an uncommon one for you—going to a shitty house party, one that nearly all your friends were headed to. However, doing your makeup and choosing your outfit while blasting music, lying to your parents and saying you were going to sleep over at a friend's house, hopping on your bike and heading over to the party, didn’t give you the same adrenaline rush it usually did. The intention of getting drunk and dancing with your sweaty classmates and most likely hooking up with one of them didn’t entice you for once, nor divert your thoughts of Gerard, leaving you distracted and off kilter.

You mindlessly left your bike on its side in the front yard, wandering into the party. You allowed yourself to be drawn in and out of conversations for an hour and a half or so, trying to slow yourself down from immediately rushing to the drink table. Just as you were about to pour yourself a cup of a crappy vodka bound to get you tipsy quick, a strange guy you recognized from your gym class approached you and somehow got his grimy fingers on the alcohol bottle.

“Here, let me get that for you,” he said with a dumb smirk, making the drink for you, of course managing to spill some in the process, you noticed with irritation. You had to resist the urge to roll your eyes, instead giving him a tight lipped smile as he handed you the red solo cup which you knew you were going to throw away the moment you were out of his line of vision.

Unfortunately for you, he began to follow you around as you weaved through the crowd of people, searching for a familiar face that would help you escape the guy who was still speaking, seemingly not noticing or not caring about your obvious disinterest in him. Eventually, you told him you needed to go to the bathroom, and you were finally able to slip from his sight. You managed to leave through the front door, annoyed that your night had been spoiled, ready to risk stealing a bottle of your parents liquor to sooth your craving for intoxication instead of spending another minute in that house.

You walked toward where you were sure you’d left your bike, only to see it wasn’t there. Frantically, you searched for it, to your dismay finding it rammed against the side of the garage with a group of incredibly drunk kids around it, the one lying on the ground next to the bike obviously the culprit of crashing it. It truly was not fun to be sober around non-sober people, you thought at that moment, bitterly wishing you’d been able to get drunk before that boy had started to throw himself at you. You ran up to the group, cursing and upset, though they were too inebriated to acknowledge you or care. You pushed past them and kneeled down to examine your bike that was clearly broken. It was fixable, but at the moment unrideable, causing you to mutter another string of curses.

To the best of your ability, you dragged the bicycle to the sidewalk in front of the house, sitting down on the concrete next to it with a huff. You supposed you could ask someone at the party to give you a ride home, but most of the kids would be too intoxicated to drive. Then, there was the problem of explaining to your parents why the sleepover you had been at had ended prematurely. You had been relying on spending the night with a hook-up or one of your friends.

But you would have to seek someone out. Going back inside to ask to spend the night with someone meant having to deal with that creepy guy again, standing by on the lawn for someone you recognized to leave was not an option due to how cold out it was, and besides, your appetite for partying—and waiting—had dwindled to be nearly non-existent. You chewed your bottom lip as you faced the only real solution you could think of—calling Gerard. He’d picked you up at parties countless times, but this wasn’t the same, right?

You weren’t drunk, for one. It was different. Everything had felt different the past few days. In fact, that was the problem. It would’ve felt easier to call if you hadn’t nearly shared a kiss the last time you’d seen each other, if you hadn’t pulled away from him. As you rang his number, you wondered if he’d even pick up.

He did. He always did. His voice was clearly raspy with sleep as he answered the phone. “Hello?”

You sucked in a breath before speaking. “Hey. It’s me. I was at a party and this gross guy wouldn’t leave me alone, then some fucknut broke my bike and I can't fix it and I don't have another way to get home. I just—”

“It’s okay. I’ll come get you,” he said in his soft voice. “Where are you?”

You were surprised but also deeply comforted by his response to your predicament, behaving as he always was when you were in a situation like this. A part of you had expected him to act differently than he usually did, given the current state your friendship had been in, but you realized in that moment how much you’d overlooked just how much Gerard cared for you, causing an cascading wave of emotions to crash over you, so intense that you had to take a moment to respond to his question.

“The Johnson’s. I’ll check the house number.” He stayed on the phone until he knew exactly where to find you. “Thank you,” you said quietly, your tone almost guilty. You heard the sound of his engine revving up, knowing he’d be there soon.

“Of course,” he responded in a gentle tone that made you want to cry. A part of you wished he wasn’t so caring. If he was less forgiving, less tender, the thought of him waking up late at night to come get you wouldn’t’ve made you feel so bad. You hung up the phone, and waited, huddled on the corner for the next fifteen minutes, shivering slightly—your thin sweater not doing much to keep the cold from eating away at you.

Relief washed over you when Gerard’s familiar car turned around the corner. You stood up, a weak smile on your face. He parked and got out, walking over to you, his expression unreadable. God, he was so beautiful. Even though he’d already taken the action of coming to get you, you were a bit nervous about how he’d treat you after several days of not speaking to one another. “Hi.” you said awkwardly, the one word spoken almost as a question, your arms wrapped around your body in an attempt to maintain some warmth. He gave you a small smile in greeting which further relieved you of your worries of where your friendship stood. However, they didn’t disappear fully.

Your mind flashed back to his hurt expression after you’d pulled away from him the other day. He noticed your physical state and took off his jacket, placing it over your shoulders without a word, before bending over to pick up your broken bike. You buried your face in the coat, inhaling the familiar smell of magazine paper and coffee, overwhelmed with gratitude at his kindness, the way he acted even after days of you ignoring him. “I can help—” you began as he carried your bike to his trunk. But he cut you off with a shrug, placing it carefully in the car.

“Come on, let's get you home,” he spoke softly.

You slid into the passenger seat, as he did the same on the driver’s side. You bit down on the inside of your cheek before saying, “Gee, I told my parents I was staying over at a friend’s house tonight.” A silence, similar to the one after your near kiss a few days ago, settled over the two of you for a moment.

“You…can stay at mine,” he said, in a voice that seemed cautious, anticipatory, even though you’d had sleepovers before. You smiled a little, despite yourself, as you thanked him. The ride was quiet, the only sound a soft mixtape of The Smiths and David Bowie songs on low volume that you’d heard many times before. It was strange, to be surrounded by so many familiar things in an atmosphere that felt so utterly different than it had for several years, that had been changed in only a matter of days.

You glanced at him as he drove, wondering if was contemplating the same thing, as he had a thoughtful gleam in his eyes, though they stayed on the road. You wanted to ask. You wanted him to turn around and drive you back to the party, so you could drown your feelings in alcohol and not have to deal with them till the next morning. You wanted to scream at him for acting like nothing was different. You wanted to make him pull over and press your lips to his. But you stayed quiet, opting just to admire his face rather than act on any impulsive emotions, which you registered was very unlike you.

You shook off your musings as you pulled into Gerard’s driveway. Your brain was still slightly muddled, so you barely noticed when he got out of the car and was quickly over at your side, opening your door for you. Your heart squeezed in your chest. He never stopped being kind to you, regardless of how you treated him. You followed him into the house, the silence between you ensuing. It would be comforting if there wasn’t so much you wanted to say. You walked down the stairs to his bedroom, the familiarity relaxing you, making you feel better than you had in days.

You plopped down on his bed, where the two of you had almost kissed. It irritated you how that was all you could think about. You tried to ignore that fact, and the pressing question of if you’d be sleeping in his bed tonight, or upstairs on the couch like you usually did when you slept over. It wouldn’t have even been something you were wondering about if the air wasn’t thick with tension. In the dark room, you watched Gerard’s silhouette move over to his dresser and pull out a pair of shorts and a shirt for you to use as pajamas, walking towards you with the clothes in his hand.

He sat next to you, and you turned to look at his face, highlighted only by the moon, as you took the bundle in your hands. “Will you ever stop doing nice things for me?” you tried to joke, but coming off much more serious and desperate than you’d meant to. His face flushed, his hand tentatively reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. You could hear your heartbeat as his hand brushed lightly against your cheek.

“No,” he whispered, his tone mirroring the sincerity in yours. His eyes caught yours, and you couldn’t help but be reminded of a few days prior when you were in nearly this exact same position. His head dipped down slightly, perhaps subconsciously, and this time you didn’t pull away. Still, you didn’t close the gap fully, allowing the question to hang in the air, allowing him to make the final decision.

As he finally leaned in and pressed his lips to yours, you expected your mind to be met with a churning storm of guilt for taking Gerard’s first kiss, images of arguments and tears, of his back turned away from you as you inevitably did something to hurt him. But no, you instead tasted coffee and the promise of something real that you couldn’t quite grasp and somehow didn’t feel the need to in the moment. Instead of fear, you felt his gentle hands on you; one on your cheek, the other resting gingerly on your hip. He pulled away after a moment, searching your face anxiously.

“Is…was that good?” he breathed. You nodded in response, too desperate for your hands to be on him to give him a teasing remark, and shortly after, your lips met his again, your fingers finding their way to his hair, while your other hand cupped the back of his neck. The kiss was soft, exploratory on his behalf, his arm snaking around your waist slowly. Your tongue swiped across his bottom lip before entering his mouth, eliciting a small moan from him.

The sound dizzied you, and your worries of ruining Gerard’s innocence immediately left your head. He wrapped his arms tighter around you, gently pushing you down onto the bed. You were slightly surprised by his forwardness, given that this was his first kiss—his first anything—but it was not unwelcome. Your arms wrapped around his neck as he continued to kiss you. You bit down gently on his bottom lip, the kiss still soft, the nip only an encouragement for him to do more. His hand slipped under your shirt, palm pressed against your abdomen.

With the kiss turning more heated, you supposed it would be best to leave your assumptions behind, as this night had consistently proved you wrong; the party hadn’t saved you from your distracted mind, kissing Gerard hadn’t been as scary as you thought, and he was infinitely less timid than you would have guessed, seeing as he was on top of you with his hand up your shirt. The kiss became more passionate, your legs wrapping around his waist.

As you did this, he shifted slightly, trying to hide his obvious erection, instead doing the opposite by making you aware of it. Your breath hitched slightly, hand wandering south. He pulled away for a moment, watching your hand and mumbling against your lips, “I’ve never, um. Done anything before,” (despite the fact that you knew) but making no move to stop what you were doing. You stopped the movement of your hand at his words.

“Do you want to?” you whispered.

“Please. D-don't stop,” he responded, voice trembling with need as he moved his kisses down your jaw. You pushed down his sweatpants with his help, his boxers following shortly after. His breath hitched as your fingers wrapped around him, letting out a shaky moan. After a few pumps of your hand, you pulled back, and he let out a slight whimper at the loss of contact.

“C’mon, sit on the edge of the bed for me,” you said in a soft tone, almost as if you were trying not to scare him away. He got up off of you and moved, and you slid onto the ground between his legs, shifting onto your knees in front of him. Gerard looked down, biting his lip slightly. There was no arrogant smirk or over-confident facial expressions written across his features, the way most guys were in a situation with a girl on their knees in front of them. He instead stared at you with tenderness, lust evident in his gaze but not the main nor most noticeable aspect of it. He seemed nearly startled that he was even in this position, but incredibly willing at the same time—not just willing to be here with any person, but with you.

The thought caused something within you to twist in a way you couldn’t decide made you feel guilty or not. You didn’t want to be worrying right now, when you were finally between the legs of the guy you’d had a crush on for years. You pulled him in by the front of his shirt, giving him a quick kiss before moving your attention down to his dick that was leaking precum, desire swirling in your gut.

You leaned in, licking it off, which caused him to let out a sharp whine, his fingers digging into the sheets on either side of him. You smirked slightly, wetting his cock with your tongue before your lips wrapped around it, beginning to suck him off. He began to breathe heavily, his head tilting back slightly, eyes squeezed shut.

“Fuck…” he groaned, your name escaping his lips shortly after. His trembling hand went to the back of your head, not pulling your hair but gently holding onto it like he was scared of hurting you, a subtle action that made your heart twinge.

“Is this alright?” he asked between broken breaths, opening his eyes to look into yours. You pulled away for a moment, murmuring a quick yes, before delving back in, mouth moving with purpose, drawing more noises from his throat, his fingers in your hair tightening slightly as his eyelids shut again. You pushed your head further down, eliciting a string of words that bordered on nonsensical from Gerard. This encouraged you further, taking as much of him in your mouth as he could, his tip hitting the back of your throat as you bobbed your head. You weren’t thinking about anything anymore, your only goal to draw as many sounds from him as you could, barely stopping for air as his moans grew louder. His hips began to buck up to meet your mouth, clearly beginning to lose control.

“Shit, sorry,” he mumbled, face flushing.

You let out a small laugh, “It’s okay. I don’t mind,” which seemed to reassure him, his face screwing up in pleasure as you continued. Your heartbeat raced, your only thought was his pleasure. Occasionally he would whisper small words of shy praise between his gasps and moans. After a few more minutes, his whole body was trembling.

“M’gonna—” he gasped out, the hand that wasn't in your hair digging further into his sheets. He finished with your name in his mouth, his cum shooting down your throat. You swallowed it, licking up the remainders along his length as he stared down at you in almost disbelief, still breathing heavily.

“Would you come here?” he whispered to you, and as you stood up from your kneeling position, he gently pulled you into his lap, arms wrapping around you. He buried his face in your neck.

“God, that was—Thank you,” he said sheepishly against your skin, planting a small kiss against your shoulder. A soft smile spread across your face at his shyness that didn’t fully leave despite his sudden bursts of confidence. Gerard lifted his head up, eyes flickering to your lips as he drew you in to kiss you again. It soon became more intense, and he led you onto your back where you’d been before.

After a moment, he reached for the button on your jeans, looking at you for permission. You were slightly surprised, expecting the night’s activities to have ended at the blowjob, perhaps a bit more kissing and nothing more. However, you were not opposed to the idea of it, nodding for him to continue. He kissed your lips again, whispering a small thank you, before gently undoing the button and pushing your jeans down. You kicked them off, before reaching up and pulling off your shirt, now just left in your bra and underpants.

Gerard’s fingers lightly grazed over your clothed core, then traced light patterns across your bare body as his lips met yours again, your back arching up slightly to help him as he fumbled with your bra clasp. You giggled slightly at the moment that would have been awkward had it been anyone else, causing him to blush as he finally unhooked it, pulling the nylon fabric off your body. He left small nips and kisses between and across your breasts, drawing shivers from you, before kissing you once more. A brush of his bare skin against yours had you craving more. Your hands roamed over his chest before slipping under his shirt, pulling it up and over his head after he gave you a nod of consent.

“D’you have any condoms?” you asked, leaving a peck on his clavicle.

“Yeah. Yes,” he mumbled breathlessly, reaching over to the drawers by his bed and pulling one out.

Once he rolled it on, you kissed him again, and spoke softly, “Are you sure you want to do this?”

He nodded, his hand brushing against your hip. “I…I’ve thought about it before. A lot,” he admitted, and even in the dark you could see his face turn red, making you smile. “I really want to.”

“Me too,” you said, shifting yourself under him slightly. He inhaled, planting a final kiss to your neck before lining his dick up with you and pushing in. Gerard let out a quiet moan, a sound similar to his leaving you as well. Your fingernails dug soft crescents into his pale skin as he sunk into you.

After a moment of waiting to make sure there was nothing that made either of you want to stop, he began to gently move his hips against yours. He was soft, like he was in every setting, every scenario, but you could feel the passion behind his movements, letting out a soft whine.

“Everything fine?” he whispered, and you responded with a small nod, eyelids fluttering shut. He sucked a dark spot into your neck as his body rocked against yours. Your breath hastened along with his as Gerard quickened his pace, causing the whimpers and moans of the both of you to gradually become louder. He kept his hand on your hip, his other arm propping him up.

Your fingernails dragged up and down his back, a clear contradiction to his gentle movements, which somehow didn’t leave you feeling like a thief of innocence, maybe because he didn’t seem to mind at all. You left small kisses and marks against his throat periodically, which would prompt him to move faster.

His hands and lips traveled across your skin, slowly, mapping out every inch and committing it to memory. His fingers across your stomach made you weak, drawing another shaky moan from your mouth. As he treated your body with nothing but tenderness, you realized it had never mattered to Gerard that you were a mess. He had always seen past it, and you’d never noticed the way he still thought you were beautiful when you were crying or hysterical, the way he still admired you when you were falling apart. You had always known that he was the most understanding person you’d ever met, but never imagined his empathy applied to you as well—at least not to this extent.

But right here, right now, with his loving hands across your body, you knew that he saw all of you—and still wanted all of you. Every emotion, every touch, became heightened, your body beginning to reach its limit. Near the end, he sped up, his movements growing slightly sloppy but never losing the gentleness he always carried, no matter how hard your nails were digging into him. He shifted slightly, hitting a new angle within you, the sounds leaving both of your throats becoming uncontrollable.

He finished right before you did, moaning out your name, continuing to move his body against yours until he was sure you were done too. Your fingers dug into his back a final time as you reached your peak, causing him to shiver, and he pressed a soft kiss to your collarbone. You both stayed still for a moment, wrapped in each others’ arms, the rate of your hearts gradually slowing down, pressing shaky pecks onto the other's skin.

After a while, he pulled out and threw the condom in the trash, still breathing heavily as he pulled his clothes back on. You looked at him as you dressed in the shirt and shorts he had given you to wear earlier, sitting up, and grateful you’d decided to finally ignore your fears and kiss the boy you had wanted to kiss for so long. His hand brushed against your jaw, pulling you closer to him.

“Are you okay? Was that…okay?” he asked, looking slightly nervous. “I mean, I thought it was. Not just okay. More than okay. Like, I really liked it. I really—” You smiled at him through a bitten lip, cutting off his rambling although you were still a bit short on breath.

“Don’t worry,” you softly peppered his lips with small pecks. “It was really good. You were really good. Especially for a virgin,” you added the last sentence teasingly, seeing the tips of his ears flush when you spoke. He didn’t know how to respond, instead leaning forward and kissing you slowly again.

You didn’t exactly know what else to say either, with so many thoughts swirling through your head it felt impossible, gratefully leaning in. “Let’s get some sleep, yeah?” You suggested after a little while. He nodded, lips grazing your neck, and you nestled under the blankets together, head pressed against his chest as you listened to the still quickened beat of his heart, his fingers tracing invisible patterns on your hip.

“I really did. Like you for a long time,” he said after a moment of silence. You lifted your head up to look at him, a stupid grin on your face.

“I should’ve kissed you sooner,” but behind the casual way you said it, you meant it sincerely. With those words, you meant that you should have realized how he saw you, accepted yourself and the fact that he desired you. He returned the smile, perhaps not understanding the meaning behind the five simple words, giving you a final trail of pecks against your lips and neck before leaning his head down and closing his eyes.

Gerard would probably never know about your internal battle to act on how much you wanted him. He would never know about the nights you had spent, wishing you were different so that you would be worthy of his lips on yours. He would never know about the guilt that tore away at you when he dealt with your problems or looked after you, or all the times you had nearly taken a chance, but hadn’t.

But as you drifted off to sleep that night, you decided it didn’t matter. You would make it work, because the very thing that had held you back from him was the very thing that would make you stay: Gerard was the sweetest person you knew. You would never allow yourself to lose him because you would be better for him than you ever had in a relationship.

If you had been different, you would have kissed Gerard. But in the end, he had not wanted a perfect girl, one who you yearned to be. He had chosen you.

childhood best friends to enemies to lovers has got to be the best trope to ever exist idccc

I think I finally found my OTP !

Click for better quality

I juste finish The Flash and Green Lantern: The Brave and the Bold and why is there so little content about them ??? They're just so awesome together !! Best buddys and best lovers, I freaking love this kind of ship 💚❤️

Process

Tonight we are young

author:

ukyoish

summary:

Ukyo and Hyoga are NOT dating.

Ukyo's friends think they are nonetheless.