#ludomilla

[ourhandsheldtight]

arte practice, 639 words.

[ourhandsheldtight]

ludomilla, 30 days challenge. cross-posted. day 9: hanging out with friends. 794 words.

Hanging out with the women of their group always spells trouble. Milla crosses her arms as they talk, only half-listening to the conversation, and fixes them with a pointed stare when she hears her name - and Ludger's come up at the same time. Muzét's the first one to notice, laughing softly at her expression, and she arcs behind her to lay her hands on her shoulders. Milla's half disgruntled, half happy about the fact this dimension's Muzét doesn't hate her.

"You like Ludger, don't you?" Never mind. This dimension's Muzét might hate her. Milla twists around, frowning, and Muzét laughs; she just slides her hands lower until she's hugging her (holding her in place), until Milla stops struggling and purses her lips in a pout instead. "Don't be so shy, Milla! Come on, come on. Tell us all about your adorable crush on him."

"It doesn't exist, for one." She's proud at how haughty she manages to sound. "For two, what would ever give you the idea I like him or any of you for that matter, even the tiniest bit?"

"You're a lot more open around him," Elize puts in, a thoughtful air to her tone. Leia nods fervently, leaning forward with her fists pressed into her thighs.

"That's right! You smile more, you laugh more, you blush more --"

"I don't blush around him! I don't smile either, and I definitely don't laugh!"

"But you do," Leia stresses, and Elize nods. Milla feels Muzét do the same against the top of her head and feels like tearing her hair out. She definitely, most definitely didn't -- especially not around him, not around the person who lied to her, who destroyed everything she had known.

(Even if she hadn't been happy, she had been home.)

"I don't!" she says, again, and watches Elize share a look with Leia. They look pitying, almost, and it makes her denials catch in her throat and makes her want to run. Just run, get as far away from all of this as possible. She doesn't move - her legs feel like they're tied down with rocks, and even shifting her feet is a chore - and she doesn't do anything but feel her heart sink further and further into her stomach as the conversation moves away from the topic and Muzét gently combs her fingers through her hair.

-

---

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side b // ludger

Hanging out with the men of their group never usually spelt trouble, and yet tonight - with drinks on Alvin and the promise of fun - is nothing but it. Ludger's ears feel like they must be on fire with how hot they are as the party none-too-softly discusses the women of their group, and he splutters into his drink and Alvin turns to him and asks him what he thinks about them.

"They're--" he coughs, thumping his chest; Jude looks amused as he pats his back, and Ludger clears his throat. Right. "They're all very strong."

"That's not what we're talking about Ludger! We're talking about looks, personality. You know. In a if we didn't have a bunch of other stuff to do, who would we date way?"

Ludger shakes his head, sipping his drink with a smile despite his unease. Jude looks strangely tense on the topic - he thinks about how it must be because of the prime dimension's Milla - and Rowen chortles softly, fingers resting against the table. Gaius, for his part, keeps his mouth set in a thin line, even though his eyebrows raise curiously.

"I think they'd look mad if they knew we were talking about them like this," Ludger replies, getting a sigh from Alvin and a small chuckle from Jude, and when he gets told to just answer the damn question -- he gets cut off.

"I believe he has his eyes set on the other Milla."

It's enough to make him jerk to face Gaius, who sips his beer as if he hadn't just said anything, and shakes his head. Maybe a bit too fast, because the older half of their group chuckles and he feels his cheeks heat up. Him and Milla -- him liking Milla -- well, maybe some, but there's no way he could -- not with Jude around, not with her, because of what he's done --

It's much easier to dismiss the idea than entertain it, at least in the company he's keeping.

"Oh, no no no. Not at all." He waves his hand with the motion, much to the amused - and, on Jude's end, somewhat tightened - looks of his peers. "Even if I did, she wouldn't feel the same way. I don't think she ever..."

He sits back, staring at the amber color of his beer, and pushes his hair back from his forehead. "I don't think she ever could."

[ourhandsheldtight]

ludomilla, "i do stupid shit and you're my doctor" au. 963 words.

"How much did you get paid this time?" She pulls away when she asks it, standing to cross the room and filch out few things from drawers. He eyes the needle and thread she sets on the counter beside her warily and swallows back whatever pleas he was going to start muttering about not getting stitches this time.

(She’d only admonish him, saying he should be used to it by now.)

"About 250… I think."

Her look is incredulous, and it’s almost enough to make him laugh, but that feeling subsides when it twists angrily and she slams the drawer shut with the heel of her palm. He raises his hands when she comes closer, needle gripped tightly in her fingers, and sees his wide-eyed look reflected in her narrowed gaze.

"Please calm down before you do anything."

"You’re getting gypped. You know that, right? You know you’re getting paid," she slams her items on the tray beside her, and it threatens to topple but doesn’t, "a hell of a lot less than what you deserve for putting up with all their stupid, stupid stunts, right?"

He didn’t, actually, but he swallows the admission and watches the floor. She jerks his chin up, her frown growing, and all of sudden it just — vanishes. Her shoulders slump from their angry tightened form, the creases in the middle of her forehead relax, and she leans against the table he’s sitting on. She’s close enough he can smell her perfume (honey, but not too overpowering; professional) and he jumps when she gives a shaky sigh and looks at him.

"Sorry. Not my place." He shrugs his shoulders at her words and she purses her lips, then works on gently pulling some of the bandages off of his arms and hands. The ones on his left shoulder come next - she gives a small ah-ha at finding exactly what she thought she’d have to stitch up beneath them - and he sits as still as he can as she applies medicine and gauze. He jerks a little when the needle presses into sensitive skin and she gives him what he’s pretty sure is an apologetic look, but he’s never seen her look sorry in the year he’s had her as his doctor.

It’s a little weird.

"There you are, Mr. Kresnik," she sighs; her hand’s smoothing over bandages and skin again, making sure everything’s tight but not too tight, and he feels her tap his shoulder. “Don’t get this wet and don’t put too much stress on it. We wouldn’t want your stitches to come loose before their time, do we?”

"No ma’am," he replies, and her cheekbones dust with pink out of the corner of his eye. He bites his lip, trying not to laugh, and slides off the table when she steps away to get her clipboard. He pulls on his shirt again, wincing at the motion, and she presents him with a bill.

He blanches at the amount and she snorts, tapping her pen on her clipboard.

"Just what the hell were you expecting? Return visits for the same reason are just going to get pricier.” There’s an edge of amusement to her words and he looks at her, frowning a little. She covers her mouth, glancing away, then glances back to him. The edges of her eyes crinkle a little. “Don’t worry. Your insurance can cover it. Though,” and the crinkles disappear, skin smoothing out so perfectly it’s almost as if they hadn’t existed in the first place, “I feel like I should be getting paid more for having to deal with you.”

"I could make it up to you," he says, and she jerks her gaze to him from when it’d been landing on the pages she’s thumbing at. It feels like the first full sentence he’s spoken in hours, with the way his throat is dry and tight, and he rubs the back of his neck. His thumb ghosts over bandages. "I mean — if you’d like, we could go out to eat or something, or I could make you something. I’m a pretty good cook."

"The offer’s nice," she replies after a quiet moment, her fingers smoothing the bottom of her clipboard and returning to rubbing the sides of it, "but we’ve got a professional relationship, Mr. Kresnik, of doctor and sorely frequent patient. I can’t —" she hesitates, then huffs. "I can’t date a patient, even if it’s just one dinner,” she stresses the end of it when he opens his mouth to object.

He closes it and nods. It’s easy to understand, even if he feels his heart sink a little at the rejection, and she gives him a rare smile. It jumps back up in his chest and threatens to escape through his throat.

"Just don’t come back too soon, all right? I do have patients beside you.”

"Don’t miss me too much then," he jokes, and her face turns scarlet before it’s out of sight and he’s out of the door, laughing softly.

[ourhandsheldtight]

ludomilla, "you’re an actor in a haunted house and i accidentally punched you in the face when you scared me" au. 282 words.

"You shouldn’t go into haunted houses if you’re so jumpy." She stares at him, pressing the cotton harder and harder until he finally asks for her to please stop that and she moves her hand away. Her eyebrows knit, a frown settling on her lips while she picks apart the ball with nimble fingers, and she sets the used item beside her and picks up gauze instead.

"I’m not jumpy. Usually." She sounds like she’s trying to convince not only him but herself, so Ludger only rolls his eyes a little and makes sure she doesn’t see it. She carefully presses the gauze to his temple (where had that gentleness been five minutes ago?) and holds it there until she can wrap bandages around it. He reaches up to touch it, feeling his lips push to one side involuntarily when he skirts a sensitive spot, and his attacker-turned-aider sits back on her hands with a sigh. “It’s been a bad night, all right? I don’t even know where my friends - the ones who went in with me - went.”

The word sounds like poison on her lips, and he sets his elbows on his knees, wondering if you can really be friends with people you don’t get along with.

[ourhandsheldtight]

ludomilla, "This isn't exactly what I had in mind." 307 words. reposted from my other tumblr.

And nosier,” she adds; he follows her gaze as it flicks up to the group hovering by the doorway, and they disperse nearly instantly. Only Elle lingers before her father’s pulling her away with promises of letting her sit in his lap while they watch television.

"They’re just curious." He steps back, making sure every seat has a plate, and offers Milla a smile; she purses her lips and sighs, straightening up.

"I’m guessing you don’t bring too many girls around in that case, Mr. Kresnik."

"She called him by his last name,” someone stage whispers outside of the room and Ludger laughs, rubbing the back of his neck. Milla brushes her hands together, fingers curling slightly; her nails are painted today, a stark contrast to plainness in the last three months he’s known her, and he wonders if it’s because she was supposed to come over today or if she had just decided to do it.

He decides to focus back on her face before she notices he’s looking anywhere else instead of wondering further, and Milla sets a hand against her waist as she replies, “I can see why you wouldn’t, if they act like this every time it happens.”

[ourhandsheldtight]

ludomilla, sports au. 823 words. reposted from my other tumblr.

"Good for her," Milla mutters to the radio beside her. It doesn’t reply to her; it just keeps spinning through its news, and she serves against the wall again. She keeps the rally going as much as she can, swings getting progressively harder the longer the host goes on about the all-too amazing Maxwell, and catches the tennis ball in her hand with a wince instead of slamming it again.

She turns the radio off and sighs, pulling her hair out of its ponytail. Another day, another practice spent listening about her evidently more talented sister over the airwaves. While Maxwell was off being a hotshot, Milla was…

She throws the ball hard against the wall, stomach twisting, and watches it whiz past her; a frightened yelp sounds behind her and she turns, setting her racket against the wall behind her. The young man rubs his stomach as she approaches, and she tucks a piece of hair behind her ear when she leans over him.

"You okay?"

He nods and she helps him up; he’s just a little taller than her - which makes her smirk - and when he grins at her she feels like she’s back in in middle school, playing her in her first tournament match. Milla returns to her racket, picking it up and inspecting the wrapping on the handle; she’d need to replace it soon. Maybe tonight, since she’d have plenty of downtime —

she feels a tapping on her shoulder and she turns; it’s just the same guy pounded with a ball, and she sighs.

"Can I help you?"

"This is the gymnasium where the basketball team holds their practice, right?"

She runs the list of clubs through her mind quickly and nods, then raises her racket right to the wall clock.

"They’re afternoon hours. Come back around three-thirty and you’ll be right on time." He brow furrows at the information and she purses her lips, resting her racket against her leg. "…if you’ve got class then, I can show you the way to the coach’s office and you can talk to her about joining now."

"I’d appreciate it, Miss…?"

"Milla." She kneels down and zips her racket back up, collecting her practice balls with her other. They’re easy to balance all in one hand, and she tries not to smile at his impressed look. "Come on, she should still be in her office."

It’s a quick walk; Milla knocks on the door twice and peeks in, motions her companion to go, and heads back down to change and grab her radio from the court. She meets him again while he’s coming out of the coach’s office, looking a little happier than previously, and Milla shifts her racket’s bag on her shoulder. “Got everything in order?”

He nods and she nods back, starting down the hall. “Well, I’m glad I could help.”

"Wait, hold on— " The young man grabs her wrist and she pivots on her heel, any hint of friendliness draining out from the soles of her feet. His eyes widen in alarm and he lets go of her, lips quirking a little. "Uh, sorry. I’m just… new here, so I was hoping you’d be able to show me the way to some of my classes?"

She holds out her hand and he stares at it for a moment before digging through his bag and handing over his messily written schedule. She glances at the name scrawled in the top right of the notebook - Ludger, huh? - and motions him to follow he. She heads straight to the student center, picking up a map from the desk and sitting down at one of the open tables. Ludger idles by her as she marks off his classes, a sharpie cap clenched between her teeth; he looks back over when she slams the cap back on her pen and pushes the map over.

"There. You’re gonna have to figure out the best way to get to each of them on your own though. And don’t sweat being late for the first few days — you’re a transfer-in, right? They’ll understand."

"How’d you know I was?"

"We’ve got the same maths and I haven’t seen you in it before." She’d definitely know anyone with hair like his; her eyes flick up and he touches his bangs with a smile bordering on sheepish. Milla turns her wrist up to check the time, glancing at Ludger while he folds up the map and tucks it into his bag. "If you don’t wanna wait an hour to get lunch, you oughta get to the café. The lines really suck if you go any later."

His look switches from pleasantly-happy-about-the-world to panicked-about-something-or-other, and she returns the wave he gives her over his shoulder as he sprints out of the center.

[ourhandsheldtight]

ludomilla, meeting at a masquerade. 310 words. reposted from my other tumblr.

Milla had agreed, then, but now — now she was regretting not trying harder to change her sister’s stubborn mind. The evening warmth is sweltering, even with her light clothing, and while she’d prefer the heat to the chill…

It’s ridiculous.

"It’s not that bad," someone comments beside her, and Milla lays her hand on her sword instead of wiping the back of her neck like she’d like to. The man beside her gives her an apologetic smile - she can see mirth twinkling in his eyes, past his mask, which makes the smile less sincere by the second - and scratches the back of his neck.

"It’s a lot warmer where I come from, so I guess I’m just used to it."

"No one asked you for your opinion," she replies curtly, and he blinks in alarm.

"But… You just kind of said it out loud."

Had she? Her cheeks burn and she immediately takes back every bad thing she’s said about having to wear a mask just to keep her sister’s masquerade safe. It’s a good cover for her embarrassment.

"I wasn’t talking to you."

"Uh, right."

Milla studies him for a second - he’s normal looking enough, with a horrendous looking mask made of feathers - and turns on her heel. He catches her elbow and she jerks it away, swiveling her head towards him.

"Can I help you? I’m on duty, so make it quick."

"You should take a break if the heat’s getting to you," he replies, and she can’t find fault in the statement. He must catch her glance towards the refreshments table because he smiles wide, and she pretends it’s her own idea to rest instead of his when she follows him over to it and leans against the table’s edge.

[ourhandsheldtight]

self-indulgent wedding dresses, 565 words. slight ludomilla. reposted from my other tumblr.

"What’s so funny?"

"Nothing!" He raises his hands, as if to defend himself from any hits. He wouldn’t be wrong - she’d slap him if she were close enough, mostly because the smile still hasn’t gone away and he doesn’t look sincere about nothing at all - but she just huffs, yanking the dress up roughly. His gaze drops to her hand at the motion, and she grips the fabric tighter. “You look nice,” he tries, and she gives him one more scowl before she turns back to her reflection. It’s hard to forget his presence when he’s still in the corner of the mirror, smiling, and she opens her mouth to berate him again —

but she’s stopped by the arrival of Elle. The little girl steps quickly over, pulling at Milla’s dress and giving quiet exclamations — like how this was the same dress her mommy wore on her wedding, she thinks, and she turns to Ludger with the fabric still in her hand. It forces Milla to turn around too, and she crosses her arms across her chest. Ludger’s turned his smile on Elle instead at least, listening intently to her words, and her shoulders relax the longer she goes without a pair of eyes on her.

Not that it lasts long; both of them turn to her in eerie symphony. Almost like they’re related, she thinks, and feels the room shoot up at least ten degrees when Elle sets her fists on her hips and looks between the two of them.

"Ludger! Don’t you think Milla looks pretty?"

At least she’s not the only one suffering. Ludger’s face lights up a nice shade of pink and he nods, a laugh awkwardly bubbling out of his throat alongside a breath. “I told her she looked nice —”

"Nice isn’t the same as pretty," Elle replies before he can get further. Milla feels her lips twitch and she tilts her head in when he looks to her for assistance.

As if she’d help him out of the ditch he tumbled into.

"She’s right, you know. Pretty isn’t the same as nice."

"I don’t think she’s pretty though…" Ludger sighs and Milla straightens up, feeling like she’s been slapped. Elle frowns at him and opens her mouth — but he presses a finger to her lips and shakes his head. "No, pretty doesn’t suit Milla. Maybe something more like… beautiful?"

"Oh…" Elle stands on her tip toes to study her — and her red face, which she’s sure is clashing with the dress, ‘white goes with everything’ be damned — and Ludger does the same. "Yeah, you’re right, Ludger. Milla’s definitely more beautiful."

"You’ve made your point, you dumb duo." She turns her face away, though she can’t imagine that’s helping any. "Are you gonna sit there and gawk all day?"

"If you’ll let us," Ludger replies for the both of them, and grabs Elle when Milla twists and advances on them in the most threatening manner she can muster.

(It isn’t much, and Elle laughs about her tomato red face — and Milla immediately softens at the sound.)