#i knew they’d be fine but it still tugged on my heart strings

[jarofstyles]

138 !!!! with best friend harry

SPICY SPICY

______

“Were you just…. Masturbating?”

Harry’s face was flushed. Skin glowy and he was hidden haphazardly under the covers. She hadn’t knocked, having never knocked, but he must have heard her footsteps as she walked up.

Now… anyone with manners or common decency wouldn’t have mentioned it. No, they’d either excuse themselves or move on. But Y/N didn’t have good boundaries when it came to Harry, and she was a curious little thing. Too curious for her own good.

“Christ. Y’can’t knock and y’dont have a filter to save your life.” He rolled his eyes in disbelief, groaning as he hid his eyes under his arm. I didn’t help that the subject of the fantasies he had been rudely pulled from had walked in, not naked and not bouncing on his thick cock. It was rude, if you asked him.

“Oh, hush.” She giggled, laughing harder as Harry scrambled back as she crawled up on the bed with him.

“Oi! What the fuck are y’doin, love?” He laughed nervously, cock still pulsing under the covers. Y/N was fearless and he knew that, but they’d never gotten this close. Sure, they spoke about sex and were close physically but this was…. Something else entirely.

“Relax, H. M’just getting comfortable. You don’t have to stop on my account.” She actually was nervous. Heart beating fast. But it was the best idea she had. She needed to get over this hurdle. And she was so curious about it, she needed to see him. If he was comfortable… she would want it.

“Y’want…. You want to watch?” He said slowly, trying to understand. His cock throbbed in betrayal of his confusion, aching to be touched again.

“Mhm. If you’re okay with that, though.” She leaned in next to him and placed her cheek against his shoulder. “I haven’t seen a guy do it. And I’ve always wanted to see yours. Y’act like it’s big.” She laughed, eyes curiously peeking at the bulge under the covers.

“Uh… okay. It won’t be weird?” He asked again, making sure she wouldn’t be weirded out. Of course it had been his idea, and he had been close to orgasm so he was eager to get back into the groove of it. The idea of her watching made him even more horny, but again… he was cautious.

“Mhm, it’ll be fine, H. You’re being silly.Let’s see.” She urged, stroking her fingers over his arm. Comforting to her, arousing to him. She listened to him take a breath, and slowly lowered the comforter back down.

Her eyes widened. It was… big. Bigger than she had ever experienced. And it was…. It was hot. Thick, red tip glistening, her mouth watered a bit as she wondered how the precum dripping from the slit would taste like. Or how it would feel to have it throbbing against her tongue as she stroked it.

It wasn’t the first time she had these thoughts. But the first time truly seeing what she would be working with.

“Wow…” her breath voice went straight to his stomach. “You’ve got a right to be cocky.” He wrapped his hand around it after those words, squeezing himself at the base. It was so nice to have her looking at him. A breathless laugh left him as he shook his head.

“Thanks, petal.” He murmured. His best friend watched as he gave himself a few strokes, lulling his head back. Her cheek pressed against his bicep, watching intently as his thumb rubbed over the slit. He hadn’t expected her to speak, though.

“How’s it feel?” She whispered, stroking over the back of his wrist. The hand was free, and she was touchy. “Is it good?” Her face tilted up to look at him.

“Feels really good, yeah.” He licked his lip, breathing getting heavier. “Was at a good place when y’came in.” He laughed. The strokes were slow and steady, her eyes going back to the length. Her thighs clenched together, imagining how good that much cock would feel filling her up.

“M’sorry.” She whispered. “I’ll help.” He was shocked when he watched her lean up, bending close to his length and pursing her lips. He gasped when a string of spit dropped down, dripping on to the tip and over to meet his fingers. He nearly whimpered, the idea of her spit coating him a lot to process.

“Oh, fuck.” He cursed, throwing his head back when she did it again. This time using her hand to brush the hair out of her face and giving him a clear view of the saliva dripping from her lip and stringing from her bottom lip to the tip of his cock. “My god, Y/N.” He whined, lifting his hand up and breaking the spit from her bottom lip.

She laid back down, chest throbbing in time with the beat between her leg. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to interrupt you.” She licked her still wet bottom lip, watching his fist stroke faster now. “It looks…. Really nice.”

Her words were hesitant but he could hear the genuine tone. And the bit of arousal, at least he hoped Thats what it was. Testing his luck, he spoke back.

“Yeah? Y’like watching me get off, petal?” He asked, turning his face to look at her. Her eyes glued to his cock, dark. Legs clenched together, her hand holding his wrist while the other strokes up and down. The new slick and wet sound her spit had added to the strokes only added to his new arousal.

“Uh huh…” she was breathless, nuzzling her cheek against his arm. Suddenly shy, she was aroused and wet, but so focused on the filthy sight in front of her she could barely move.

“Didn’t know you were dirty like that.” He spoke quietly. Waiting. The little shift she did and slight tiny whimper cluing him in to knowing that this was effecting her just as much. “Do ya’ think you could do me a favor?”

Pushing the limits. He knew it. But he was so beyond horny, so hard and aching and she was giving him all of this beautiful material… he couldn’t help but push for more and more and more. It was her idea, after all.

“Yeah. Yah- I can.” She whispered with wide eyes. His hand was working himself steadily and she was doing her best to not show how worked up she was. But she couldn’t help it.

“Kay…. Can y’dip those fingers in between your legs…. N’lemme taste?” He breathed. “Don’t have to if y’dont want to. Promise. Just…. Want to taste it. I just sent t’taste it, M’not gonna last long, sweetheart.” He pleaded. Needing to taste her and see if what he imagined was what she was.

Y/N nodded, her own breathing picking up as she snuck her fingers under the band of her lounge shorts. A soft moan left her throat, guiding the fingers up her soaked slit and bumping over her clit. The image of her hand in her pants and her little noise made his orgasm approach sooner, a simple Christ spilling from his lips as he watched.

“Are you wet?” His voice was a deep, dark tone she hadn’t ever heard before. Her head tilted back and her glazed over eyes met his as she nodded, hips chasing her hand as she stroked over her swollen, needy clit again and circled a few times. “Good girl. Let me have my taste.” His words weren’t a suggestion anymore, and it only made her even more eager.

Tugging her fingers out, his spare hand guided her wrist to his mouth and immediately, he brought them between his lips. Closing them around the smaller digits, the sweet, tangy taste of her cunt coating his tongue as he dragged it between the two. It was even. Better than he imagined, a dark moan escaping his chest as he stroked himself harder. Thrusting into his hand, he sucked her fingers clean, Every single digit, even brushing his tongue over her palm to get any he missed.

“Fucking sweet. Fuck, M’gonna cum.” He panted. “Gonna cum with that taste all over my fucking tongue. You’re unreal.” He slurred, mouth dropping open as she took her hand that was slick with his spit and her taste, knocking his own hand off. The confidence swelled in her at his reaction to how she tasted, wrapping her smaller fist around him.

“Go ahead. Fuck my hand. Cum on it.” Her lips brushed his jaw. “S’a good boy, Harry. Come on. S’so soft around you, isn’t it?” She purred, pressing her body into his side. He let out a whimper, nodding as his lips parted again.

“Yes, yes, petal. Feels so good, oh god baby… M’gonna cum.” He panted, hips thrusting into her hand she held tightly around him. “Oh, feels… shit, it’s so good, you’re gonna make me cum.” He babbled, dizzy with incoming orgasm.

“Go ahead. Cum. Such a pretty cock, S’a honor to have it in my hand.” Her lips puckered just a bit against his stubbly jawline. “Cum for me, Harry.” She nuzzled against him with a slight nip and he was done for.

He let out a deep groan, cock throbbing and finally going over the edge. Coating her hand and his stomach with sticky cum, he fucked his pick into her soft hand and held her wrist to him until he was too sensitive, pulling it off. His head swimming in orgasm, heat and pure bliss.

His face turned to meet her lapping his cum off her hand, humming as she did so. And that’s when Harry realized he was completely screwed. This fantasy about his best friend… wasn’t just fantasy anymore.

[deadlyflan]

TMNT Micro Fic #4

Splinter paced a slow line back and forth in front of his eleven-year-old sons. This whole affair filled his heart with unease. However, a promise had been made, and the boys had fulfilled their part. He drew a deep breath and faced the four eager faces squarely. “Do you promise to remain underground?” “HAI, SENSEI!” “Do you promise to take the first aid kit with you?” “HAI, SENSEI!” “Will you all kill each other if I let you go?” Donatello instantly replied, “No, Sensei!” His left kneepad slipped down his string bean leg, but he pulled it back up with a kilowatt smile. His goggles toppled forward and left him tugging on their strap. The kneepad fell down again.

“Probably not?” Michelangelo glanced at Raph. His freckled baby-fat cheeks puffed as he bit back giggles. Toes tapping a quick rhythm, Mikey almost, but not quite, stopped himself from dancing where he stood. The streamers tied to his elbow pads rustled.

“Kill each other? Uh. I mean, maybe.” Raphael offered an honest smile with a hint of an apology shrug as a downpayment on any future scrapes or scuffs. He bumped his mismatched boxing-gloves together eagerly; he still wore bandaids from earlier in the week.

Leonardo matched the rest of his vibrating brothers. Blue finger-painted racing stripes covered his spindly upper body. Unfortunate thumbprints somewhat spoiled the design, but Leonardo hadn’t noticed his paint nipples yet. He laughed brightly. “Definitely yes!” Splinter balked. “You will kill each other?” “No, sensei! But I’m going to smoke all three of their tails! My racer is awesome!”

That triggered a tidal wave of denials. “No way! My racer is way better!” “You don’t even know what you’re messing with!” “I’m gonna smoke your tail and don’t you forget it!” Each of them had a hidden racer they’d worked on all winter. And while he’d helped them each out in turn—to make sure no one was going to lose limbs to this contest—Splinter knew what each of these racers looked like. He knew his sons. And he knew that this would be more of a demolition derby than a downhill race in the old spillway. “You’d have to be mutated on the finish line to have a chance at beating me!” “Yeah well, you’d need time travel to beat me!” “My racer did time travel and I’ve already won, so—“ “I’m not loosing to a bunch of egg-pooping pipe-lickers—“ “Raphael! ENOUGH!” Splinter sighed heavily and rubbed his temples. He was going to have a riot on his hands if he didn’t let them go. Leonardo waved his hands desperately. Splinter was having second thoughts and Raph had to go throwing around bad words. Splinter needed reassurance, fast! “But it will be fine, Sensei! We have the first aid kit! We’re just going to the spillway under Central Park! We will be—will have lots of sportsmanship! The good kind! Please let us go. We did all our chores. We behaved all winter! My racer—our racers are so cool! Pleeease—” “Yeah! We did our chores! You said if—” “It finally stopped raining! The spillway is dry for optimal racing—“ “I built the best racer, Sensei! Please! Lemme show’em! I can win—” With slumped shoulders and a prayer that Shen would watch over them, Splinter relented. What else could he do? “Yes, yes, my turtles. Just remember your helmets!” All four boys scattered full-tilt to their ’top secret garages’ before his second 'yes.'

[peakyblindersxx]

whiskey buisness - john shelby x reader (part 2 of ?)

read part one here!

a/n: hey loves! i'm finishing up school rn, but i had to get this out and i'm about to start working on a tommy request immediately after i upload this. anyways, i'm so excited to post this series, it's incredible and i can't thank my bestie @stxdyblr-2k enough. she is a fucking genius :)

prompt: you can't get john out of your head. lo and behold, here he is.

warnings: fluff, mentions of smut, angsty af, soft john (ugh my heart)

Despite your best efforts, you'd been unable to stop yourself yearning for John Shelby. Your pokey flat now often lay empty; you were far too busy to mope at home due to your career as a personal assistant to a local solicitor who was allied with the Shelby's, attending rallies and lectures with Ada and the drunken nights you'd spend at various mansions, galleries and club openings with the "razor chasers" you'd become friendly with due to their refusal to leave Ada alone. Yet still, in those odd seconds of calm you seized over a cigarette, the first seconds after a bump of Tokyo, when you carefully applied your makeup, styled your hair or bathed, you'd think of him. The way the pads of his fingertips felt on your skin, how he’d muttered in your ear how pretty you looked.

But this was different to when you were dreaming about John at 15; he was no longer the allusive older brother of Ada who had a string of beautiful girls on rotation. He wasn’t a fantasy anymore. He was true flesh and blood, and for a moment he had wanted you.

It would be delicious if the whole situation hadn't left a bitter taste in your mouth. Of course you came back to Brum to only immediately fuck it up. The first night, and already you were so close to ruining everything? Looking back, now that you were so close with Ada once more, now that you knew who John had grown to be, that night was cringe inducing. Luckily, no one had seemed to catch on. Luckily, you thrived in the Small Heath rumour mill once again. All the gossip about you was mainly about your substance use, the lads you were seen curling up with outside nightclubs, your intelligence, your helpful nature, sometimes your questionable politics but that was all. John's was far darker, stories of blood, death and gasoline. Recently, the tales of his conquests had quietened, but only due to the lurid delight taken by the factory workers in talking about the recent blinding of some poor fucker who'd crossed the wrong person. Obviously, a lot of the detail had to be exaggerated for shock value and to boost the Shelby status, solidifying them as notorious throughout Birmingham city and its rural surroundings. There were murmurs everywhere about the violent John Shelby: ruthless, cocky, vengeful. It seemed impossible that the same man who cracked shit jokes just to see you smile, kissed you with so much desperation, and prioritised getting you off first could cause such harm without an ounce of guilt or shame to slow his swagger.

Whispers of war were far more constant, but then again, people would say anything for a reaction. You didn't bring it up with Ada. You refused to (openly) partake in mindless gossip on principle, yet you were hungry for information about him.

***********

You'd long forgotten whose wedding you were at. Some loyal blinder, a close friend of the Shelby's, the occasion calling for a large white marquee to be built onto one of Tommy's gardens, fully staffed with the best chef and service team money could buy (from a London restaurant at short notice; when Finn told you the extortionate figure Tommy had paid, your jaw had dropped). The cake, dress and decorations were stunning; you weren't sure exactly what the groom had done for the Shelby's but you could only assume the worst for what they'd splashed out on him.

However, thinking like that only spoilt your night: you'd realised at your fifth club takeover, now you repeated it like a mantra constantly. You'd quickly learnt every excess the Shelby's granted to those outside their circle were due to some perceived sacrifice for being associated with them. Well, that's what you chose to believe after John had sent a junior blinder to your office with a bouquet, the Monday morning after he turned you down. So, it was best to smile and take the shit, get paid, and get out as soon as possible. You were to keep your head down until then.

Yet, keeping your head down was difficult tonight. Ada had treated you to a shopping trip to London for the occasion this morning, Arthur forcing the junior blinders to tag along next to you on the train and trailing less than two metres behind you for hours. You missed the days when it was just you and Ada. It was far more simple without the stares whenever the two of you stepped out. Ada had gotten used to it, she'd devised her own methods of being completely alone; complex plans involving leaving a window open, knotting sheets into a rope and twisting her ankles. Not that she minded, she reckoned the suffocation of being a Shelby was much worse than a few bruised ankles.

You were wearing a clingy emerald green dress from some fancy French boutique you couldn't even pronounce, the diamond necklace sitting along your collarbone and the jewels dangling through your ears were on loan from Ada. You felt eyes unpicking you the moment you entered the after-party. Your arm was linked through Ada's as per usual, she looked equally stylish in a peacock blue number that set off her eyes, her delicate features perfected with makeup.

You'd quickly found your gaggle and began drinking and dancing the night away. Whispers about snow arose from your table, people disappearing to the toilets to rail a line on the bathroom counter, then to the dance floor or to the lap of the poor fucker who'd hold back their hair while they vomited in just a few hours. At least the Blinders were polite about it. Isaiah would kill them if they weren’t. You'd let your arm be tugged on various bathroom trips, treated among your group like secret missions although you weren't entirely subtle about it.

What you weren't aware of was across the marquee, you were being watched by the three men in your life who you'd never want to see you in this state: the Shelby's.

"Looks like Finn's taken your spot, John." Arthur yelled in John's ear over the loud music, gesturing to the youngest Shelby sat at the table next to you who was staring up at you in complete adoration as you chatted across him to Michael, seemingly arguing with him. By the looks of it, you were winning.

John pulled a face at Arthur. “Fuck off, old man. That'll never happen. Finn’s too young for her." He immediately regretted the words that had fallen out of his mouth, revealing far too much for his comfort.

"It's not impossible."

"He's just not right for her, yeah?"

"And you are?"

John didn't bother to bless him with a verbal response, instead flipping him off and downing the rest of his whiskey. "It's not like that."

"What's it like then? Because from where I'm sitting, it's pretty fucking clear, John." Arthur slurred, glass of whiskey sloshing onto his sleeve.

"You're too gone to even know you're chatting shit." John sneered, standing up, "I'm off for a smoke and some fresh air. Try not to fuck anything in my absence, both of you."

His brothers cursed him out as he left. John took a second to figure out his route, purposefully having to cross your path, gesturing for you to follow him subtly. He was surprised you came trailing after him, telling Michael that you weren’t done yelling at him and you’d be back. When you were both only metres from the marquee, he knew you were fucked. You were instantly bored, begging him for a cigarette, which he lit for you, shaking his head at your state.

"You're a fucking mess, love." He said, mouth sloping attractively to one side.

"Takes one to know one, John-boy. Where are we off to, then?"

"Somewhere fucking quiet, can barely hear myself think. Plus, you need to sober the fuck up, lass." He said, softly, as he walked across the dew soaked grass. You followed, heels in hand, holding your dress up as not to ruin it. He sighed, taking the shoes from your hands and wrapping his blazer around your shoulders, linking your arm through his for stability. He kept the distance respectful, but there wasn’t any denying the thick tension in the summer air between the two of you. Ahead, there was a small stone bench sat at the foot of one of Thomas' manicured gardens, and John offered his hand to help you sit. You made small talk and caught up on each other's lives, and you noted John only seemed to glow when you asked about his kids. He talked at length, the drink seemingly unhinging his jaw. There he was again, the John you knew and had admired for so many years. You could sit here forever, watching his blue eyes sparkle in the sunlight. Yet, it just wasn’t meant to be. You wished you could stop time just for a bit, give you enough moments to memorize the freckles on his skin.

"You know the night I first came home?" The alcohol and snow had loosened your lips. You were teetering on the edge of your boundaries, but you couldn't care enough to hold back.

"The night where absolutely nothing happened?" He joked, raising an eyebrow at you, cautious that you'd randomly brought it up in your state. "Sweetheart, this can wait."

He was warning you. For a second you managed to bite your tongue, but curiosity tipped you over the edge.

"But something nearly happened, right?"

"Y/N. Don't." He warned, his tone icy, suddenly distancing from you, hiding between an emotional boundary which he didn't wish to explore.

"John, it's just us. Can't we even talk about it?"

"There's nothing to talk about, though. You were off your face then, and now. That's fine. We know where we stand. It can't happen."

"I wanted to. I do want to."

"You don't. Trust me. You need a nice lad who'll marry you and look after you. Just need to keep your nose clean long enough yeah?" He teased, trying to lighten the mood, blue eyes begging you to move on.

Your head turned to face him, your face contorting in a mixture of confusion and irritation. "You don't get to tell me what I want or need. The last thing I want is to marry any lad, nice or not."

"I didn't mean it like that, right? Look, I just meant you deserve better than Shelby scum. You're going places you know? Don't settle for Small Heath." John responded with a pained sigh. He didn’t want to get into it with you; not here, not like this. He'd thought about it, naturally. You were constantly on his mind, yet only problems ever seemed to appear, never solutions. It was best for him to avoid you. Why the fuck did he drag you out here? Horrible idea.

"Your family isn't scum. Where the fuck did you get that from?" Your face was screwed up in genuine rage. "I-"

"Y/N, fuckin’ leave it."

His face had hardened completely now. He'd snapped at you. His voice hadn't raised, it was just the power he spat his order out with. You held up your hands in mock surrender, pointedly taking a cigarette from his front pocket and light it silently, not saying a word.

"Why are you so bothered, anyways?" He asked, breaking the silence like you knew he would. John always had to ask questions.

"Fuck off with that, John. I'm not in the mood."

"What do you mean?" He looked completely lost.

"We nearly had sex. Just sex, nothing else right?"

John remained silent.

"Would it be the worst thing in the world?" You asked, your voice wavering. It was hard enough to get the words out, let alone imagine the response.

"You're far too wasted to chat about this, love."

"John, I’m not-"

"I'm serious. You're fucking mashed like my brothers aren't you? Like all those other fuckers in there." He sounded genuinely angry. In the glow of the sunset he looked so much younger, so hurt and lonely. Why hadn't you noticed before?

He turned to you, eyes widened and shocked at his own outburst. "You're not the only one gone yeah? Ignore me, I'm fucked, sorry."

You reached out your hand and linked your fingers through his in silence, the warm evening wind ruffling your hair and dress, blocked from your skin by John's suit jacket which was wrapped around your shoulders. Not that anyone would notice or care. As long as Ada wasn't with you, you could disappear for hours without any alarm. There you sat in the tranquil last few moments of the day, your hand linked with John's, both beyond tipsy. You weren’t thinking properly but it felt right. You felt safe. You didn't want to have to return to the chaos of the party, to have to catch up on who your friends were currently trying to screw. None of that seemed to matter anymore.

Was it too much to ask for something to be simple? Maybe you didn't have to fuck him. Maybe just these small moments were enough. You laughed at the thought when it crossed your mind; neither you nor John were known for consistency or stability in relationships, you being admittedly rather inexperienced, only having been with a few men, and he had his fair share of escapades. But he was just so different. You wouldn't admit that he'd gotten your attention in any way than purely sexually (which surprised you to admit) and for fun, but you genuinely enjoyed his presence.

He was right though. It wasn't a good idea at all to hook up. There was far too much baggage for both of you to make it worth it.

Just once?

You glanced over at John. He rolled his eyes at you, but the edges of his lips were slightly upturned, his dimples faintly peeking through his defined cheeks.

Just once couldn't hurt.

***

The sky was streaked with shades of gold, amber and blood. John could feel the friction from your knee barely knocking against his, the pressure putting him on edge. In fairness, he had drunk heavily, and that's what happens when you let your guard down around beautiful women. He couldn't believe you had told him you wanted to have sex with him still. He'd chalked the whole situation down to a drunken mistake that would have progressed into a far more significant drunken mistake. Ada would never forgive him if he went for another of her mates. Especially Y/N. No matter if he said that Y/N could be different, that you wasn't just another conquest. But who'd believe him?

Far better to keep his mouth shut.

Far better to play safe.

As you were called back to the party by the gaggle of girls John vaguely recognised from hanging off the arms of other blinders, he realised (despite his state) that you were right. Having sex with you wouldn't be the worst thing in the world. In fact, it might be one of the best.

Just once?

He watched your figure disappear back into the marquee, waiting for you to turn back and look for him. You do. He would have done the same if it was him.

Maybe just once wouldn't hurt.

***

to be continued!

[astranva]

Reason To Hate You.

// masterlist //

Word Count: 5k

Category: Angst

Warning: Some strong language, as usual. Just angsty. It’s good for the skin and some soul cleansing.

Summary: He loves her, but has no time to show it even when she asks him to. But she’s had enough, and Harry writes a song.

Based on Reason To Hate You by Rhys Lewis.

..

You were sure when Harry sang “comfortable silence is overrated” he wasn’t joking, because maybe your boyfriend appreciated the uncomfortable silence more, or at least he had been showing so.

Familiarity was out of the window when it came to the both of you, because that would be an understatement. Your friends and families had joked about it for the one year and 7 months of your relationship, about how you were one soul in two bodies, how alike you and Harry were and how the differences completed one another.

You knew when he was stressed, sad, nervous, even when he was a combination of every emotion there is and it had always assured you that he, too, knew you like the back of his hand.

One look at you and he’d offer the best support; let it be a shoulder to cry on, a celebratory dance, or a shared cup of blueberry yogurt.

But quietness had barged in like an univited guest, one you weren’t ready for and the more you thought about it, you would have never been ready for it.

Empty was one word to describe it; the bed, the kitchen, the living room, the balcony, the house, the trips to the grocery’s – the relationship.

It began around the time of Fine Line’s release. Biting back your tongue, you had managed to not feel small whenever you listened to all the tracks on there that Harry had on his ex, especially the one that had his ex talking at the end of.

But Harry had showered you with love and assurance, telling you that he couldn’t believe he had ever lived without you by his side and how he had never felt this sort of love with anyone.

You, too, had showered him with affection and the undivided pride you felt for him, making sure all your friends and family purchased the album, playing it at all times, working online so you could accompany him to some of his press because he needed you there with him.

“Mom’s birthday is coming up. I think we should get her that dress she talked about last time, remember it?” You had asked one night as you lied in bed, eyes on your boyfriend as he moisturized his face while standing in nothing but his boxers.

Harry glanced at you before looking back at the mirror one final time before walking to the bed, “I don’t, no.”

“The Marc Jacobs o-“

“When is it?” He rushed, getting under the cover, turning away from you before turning his head back to look at you.

Your lips parted before closing again, before you replied. “Friday.”

“This Friday?” And at your nod, Harry pursed his lips, “I’m sorry, baby, I can’t make it. Have a meeting all day to talk about tour.”

“But H, you knew about this for two weeks.”

“I did?” Sheepishly, Harry asked.

You slumped before shaking your head, “It’s alright. I’ll just tell her you had an emergency or something.”

“You do that.” He nodded, reaching behind him to give your thigh a squeeze, “Get whatever gift you want, pay with my card.”

You didn’t reply, watching as he let his head down on his pillow, back to you as he got comfortable, the only light in the room coming from the lamp on your bedside table.

On the day of your mother’s birthday, you remember the halfhearted smile you offered to her when she asked you where Harry was,

“Says he’s really sorry. Family emergency, but this is from the both of us.” And then you had given her the neatly wrapped present, a card attached to it with a birthday message from you and Harry, only that it was only you who had written it because Harry was up and out of the house the minute you opened your eyes that morning.

And then it happened, again, and again, and again,

and some more.

“Good morning,” you had smiled at him one morning, watching as he rubbed his face before he approached you, capturing your lips in a kiss that had the butterflies in your stomach cheer and dance, “How did you sleep?”

“Fine, love. What about you?” He smiled tiredly, hands on your waist and chin on your shoulder from behind as he watched you flip the cheddar cheese and omelet toast on the pan.

“Great.” You smiled when you felt him rub your skin from over your nightgown with his fingers. You turned off the stove before turning, reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck, leaning to peck his lips, “Hey, I know we always get Chinese takeout for our Sunday night date but how do you feel about Thai?”

And instantly, Harry tensed, guilt already taking place on his face and the smile on your face faltered at the change of demeanor, “Y/N, I’m sorry, lovie, I can’t make it tonight.”

“What? Why? We never skip on our Sunday night indoor date.”

It was a ritual you and Harry were devoted to since the very beginning of your relationship, and not once had neither of you flaked on it, always having plans around it but never during it because it was when the both of you would kick your heels up, pig out, watch a movie, talk, and just get ready for the start of another week.

“Told you I’m going to Miami for a few days to meet with the director for Watermelon Sugar, baby.”

“You’re travelling?” You frowned, “You never told me.”

Harry paused, eyes going slightly big before he looked away for a moment before looking back at you, “I’m sorry. It must have slipped out of my mind with how hectic everything has been.”

You didn’t reply, suddenly feeling a tad uncomfortable with your position which had you remove your arms from around him and turn, holding the pan and moving out of his grasp to put the toast on his plate.

“I’m really sorry, Y/N. It’s just my job and I can’t reschedule.”

You sighed, feeling as if your heart strings were being tugged at. Nevertheless, you managed to give him a small smile. “It’s alright, H. I understand. You gotta do what you gotta do.”

To be honest, if anyone had a say in this, they’d say Harry took advantage of how accepting you were, but you would never. You would never say – nor admit – that he was taking advantage of all your “I understand”s and “I get it”s, because you knew he was busy. You knew he loved you. You knew it, until you weren’t so sure anymore.

Standing in the corner of Adam and Emi’s living room, you sipped on your Sprite as you watched people from Harry’s band and those behind the album mingle, your boyfriend standing out of earshot but in front of you, conversing with Tom – Kid Harpoon – and Naomi, his hands moving around as he talked which made you smile a little.

“Why are you standing here all lonely?” You felt a nudge to your shoulder before you looked beside you, seeing Sarah leaning on the wall beside you.

You shrugged, “Just watching.”

“You never texted me yesterday after your date. How did Harry react to your dress? Did you end up wearing the white sh-“

“We didn’t go.”

“-oes? Or- Wait, what?” Sarah frowned.

“We didn’t go on the date.” You repeated, avoiding her eyes by looking down at the small soda bubbles in your cup.

“Oh,” Sarah’s shoulders slumped, taking notice of your gloomy mood, “Oh, um,” she cautiously looked at you, “You were dressed.” She mumbled with a frown, genuinely sad for her friend.

You chuckled, putting your weight on one leg, “So was he, but we had different intentions, I guess. He had a meeting with Jeff.”

“Y/N…” Sarah, with a frown, offered a hand of support on your shoulder.

With a small, very fake smile, you looked at her and shook your head, “It’s alright, really. He’s been busy with tour and the press and all that.”

“Doesn’t make him less of an arse, you know?” She raised an eyebrow.

You only chuckled, looking down at your shoes, “Don’t worry about it. Hey, at least I got to watch that show you’ve been bugging me with.”

You were patient; something many of the people you knew in your life always praised, some even were in disbelief at how patient you were with the shit life threw at you. Like that one time your laptop lagged in the midst of your presentation at uni and instead of freaking out, you remained calm, collected and patient, and it was why you ended up acing that presentation.

But that didn’t mean you didn’t feel like crap, because you did.

Since communication was key, you had decided to do just that – communicate. Harry was better than you when it came to confrontation. For a long time, you had trouble with approaching anyone and telling them that things weren’t fine, but as yours and Harry’s relationship blossomed, you learned to.

It was why you had decided against going to bed early one night and opted to stay and wait for Harry’s return, knowing that it was the only time you would be able to see him with how tight his schedule had been.

In a crewneck of his and plaid pj pants, you sat on the couch with a cup of green tea in your hands, watching a talk show that you mentally criticized as shit in your mind before you heard the click of the door.

Taking a breath to steady your heartbeat and breath, you put aside your tea before you clutched your hands together, cracking your knuckles nervously as you heard the sound of Harry’s home sliders against the floor.

His face showed confusion at the light being turned on, knowing that by that time, you usually slept, but he saw you sitting there, too in your head as you looked at your fidgeting hands to notice that he was a few steps away.

“You’re still up.” He stated in surprise, watching your head snap to look at him.

“Um, yeah,” you nodded, “Was waiting for you.”

Unknowing why, Harry smiled to himself as he approached you, leaning down to press a kiss to your temple, “Yeah?”

You nodded, “Can we talk?”

And then his smile slightly faltered, eyebrows furrowing in slight worry before he sat. “Are you alright?” His hand reached up to brush your hair.

You hated how loving he was that moment, how he made you feel. How he showed you care when he was there for a few minutes, but you hated how he had trouble showing you that by making time for you.

“Harry,” you began and he immediately felt like shit because you rarely use his name, “Are you ever not going to be busy?”

“What?”

You felt stupid, not knowing how to articulate how you’re feeling but gave it another go anyway. “It’s just that, you’re never here anymore. It’s always the album, meetings, press, and when it’s none of those, then you’re out with your friends-“

“Is this about me cancelling that date?”

And you knew he was starting to get defensive and you made note that you hated that, too.

“Which one?” You asked tiredly before sighing, turning fully to look at him, “I’m not asking you to choose between me and your job, your life, but I’m just asking you to make time for me. I just feel out of place, Harry, and it sucks.”

“You know this album is important to me, everything about it.”

“And I absolutely love all that for you, I’m so proud of you,” you held his hands, “I just miss you, that’s all.”

“But Y/N, that’s-“ Harry let out a deep sigh, closing his eyes for a moment, “That’s my job.”

“It’s not your job to cancel on our quality time more than twice to be with your friends, all of whom you see everyday.”

“I see you everyday.”

“Seeing me when I’m sleeping or kissing me goodbye is hardly anything, Harry.” You said gently.

He contemplated it, staying silent for a few moments as he looked down at your joined hands. “What do you want me to do?”

“Just, make time for me, for us – please?”

You had kissed then, almost like a promise, and for the first time in a long time, you cuddled.

You wished you received enough assurance that he was trying, wished to see it, but it seemed like too big of a wish to come true.

You had a career of your own, one you were proud of and worked hard for, so when one day your boss asked you to their office to break the news of your promotion, your smile might as well have resembled a painted one like the Joker’s, from ear to ear.

Your colleagues had cheered for you, even interns approaching you to tell you that you deserved it, and they had all decided that a celebration was due. While they were planning for the celebration, deciding that it would take place at a nearby pub the following day as it Saturday and Friday was a good day to recover from hangovers, you took out your phone, composing a text to Harry.

‘H, please be home early tonight. Big news! 🥳 Love you!’

“You sure you don’t want to join for a quick drink? You earned it.” Your colleague Mariah asked as she walked you to your car.

“I’m sure. You go have fun and we’ll meet tomorrow.”

“Hey, tell your boyfriend to tag along!” She said as she waved before leaving.

That day, you went back home, showered and changed before cooking a nice meal for yourself and Harry.

You had checked your phone multiple times, checking if you might have missed a response or missed a call but granted, your phone only notified you of few congratulatory messages from people in your workplace and your family’s Whatsapp group after you had shared with them the news, none from the one person you longed for.

When the clock struck 8 that night, you found yourself grabbing your phone, tapping on it until you were calling his phone. One missed call, you called again and that time, he answered.

“Baby, I’m in the middle of something.” Harry rushed.

“What is it?” You found yourself asking.

“Mate! You fucking cheated!” You heard him laugh, sounds of different people in the background, “Don’t wait up, yeah? I have to go now. Love y-Wait, I’m coming!” And with one final laughter from him – a sound you had always loved and cherished but that moment, it only made you feel like crying – he hung up.

You stared at your phone, eyes stinging and nears getting itchy, swallowing the lump in your throat before you angrily tossed the phone onto the couch before walking to the kitchen to eat your share of the food. No way in hell were you going to sleep sad, angry, and on an empty stomach.

You hated how small you felt, how you felt unwanted in his world. It wasn’t like you wanted much either, just some time.

It was why the following morning as you got ready for your day at work, you might have loudly closed a drawer or two before looking over at Harry’s sleeping figure.

Huffing as you looked into the mirror while adjusting your top, you were unaware to Harry stretching and rubbing his eyes before you heard him.

“Good morning, love.”

Your heart raced, turning instantly to look at him. You tried to smile but when that failed, you turned back to give yourself a final look before grabbing your bag, mumbling a halfhearted “good morning.”

“Leaving early?”

You nodded, “Yeah, I want to grab donuts before I go.”

Harry smiled sleepily, “You usually get them donuts when there is good news.”

“I got promoted.” You said, still avoiding looking at him as you walked towards the door, lingering by it before you finally looked at him, finding him looking at you with a grin.

“Really? Baby, that’s wonderful! Congratulations, Honey. You deserve this. C’mere.” And he opened his arms, making grabby hands at you.

That moment, you also hated how you couldn’t fight the urge to go to him because that was exactly what you did. You walked towards him, sitting beside him and letting him embrace you, peppering kisses on your head.

“I’m proud of you.”

You sighed, wrapping your arms around him as you closed your eyes. “You are?”

“Of course. Always am.”

You smiled, nuzzling your head into his neck.

Harry wasn’t dumb – he felt it. You missed him, and he, too, missed you. He just couldn’t seem to say no to all the plans that he was invited to – except yours.

“They’re celebrating me tonight. Do you want to come?” You said, and although it was a little muffled, he heard it.

“Tonight’s Steve’s birthday. Remember hi-“

“Oh my God.” You rolled your eyes, pulling away from his embrace, shaking your head at yourself before letting out a chuckle, “You’re unbelievable, you know that?”

“Why? What did I- Y/N, you know I can’t miss it. Steve has helped a lot with the album, it wouldn’t be right.”

“He helped with-“ You laughed bitterly, “Right, and I have never helped you with anything. Nothing at all.”

“Don’t take it like that, Y/N.” Harry huffed.

“I’m not taking it like anything, Harry. It doesn’t matter. Don’t wait up. Oh wait,” you stood, giving him a sarcastic smile, “You never do.”

And with that, you were out.

Any other time, you probably would have felt guilty. You would have felt like running back into his arms the moment he opened them. Only, he hadn’t called you, nor had he opened his arms.

There you were, sitting on a stool at the bar as your friends danced and drank, sulking with an untouched cocktail glass, staring at the door every time someone walked in.

But 7 became 8, 8 became 9, and before you knew it, you had driven one of your very drunk colleagues home at 12 and you were back home at 12:30, too sober for your own liking. That was a pathetic celebration, you thought.

You weren’t sure why but the moment you stepped foot inside your shared home with Harry – it was initially his but by the 12th month of your relationship, he had asked you to move in – you couldn’t stop the tears.

Ugly sobs broke the silence in the house, your body shaking with the extra weight of emotions it carried for months.

Maybe it was because even then, Harry wasn’t home and surely, he wasn’t beside you as your friends celebrated a big event in your life. Maybe it was because you received a notification that Harry had posted to his close friends story list on Instagram, the story being him holding his phone with the front camera, Harry singing along to a Queen song with Alexa Chung as she had one arm around his shoulders, her other hand holding a cup that resembled the miserable cocktail you had earlier to celebrate yourself.

But you were packing a suitcase.

You were neatly folding some of your clothes in it, putting some of your undergarments in the zipped-up area. You hadn’t bothered to quit crying, you figured that you owed that yourself.

One thing Harry didn’t expect to return to was to see you out, closing your car’s trunk as you stood in your black sweatpants and a grey hoodie, comfortable sneakers on your feet and your hair left with no hairbands or as much as a clip as if you hadn’t bothered to do anything with it.

Quickly parking and turning off his car, his eyes had glanced at the time quickly, finding it reading 2:21AM. Harry was quick to get out, noticing your movement to your driver side halt as you heard so.

“Where are you going?” He asked as he approached you, feeling worried and scared as he stared at the back of your head as you were yet to turn.

But you did, and Harry found himself staring your puffy eyes, tears in clouding the color he loved too much and his heart broke.

“I’m leaving.”

If it was possible, his heart would have beat its way out of his chest.

“L-Leaving wh-where? What?”

You sniffled, wiping your eyes with your sleeve, “I’m leaving, Harry. I’m done.”

“Y/N, baby,” he cooed, stepping closer, “Let’s talk, alright?” He gently put his hands on your arms, only to have you shrug them off, breaking his heart even more and causing a lump to form in his throat.

“No! We’re not going to talk, Harry. I’m done talking. I’m done waiting. I’m done being alone in this fucking house – in this- this fucking relationship!” You cried.

“Baby, please,” his jaw clenched as he tried to control his breathing and to push back the tears, “Y/N, please. Don’t do this.”

You shook your head, “I gave you everything. I tried everything and it’s just not working. I’m done giving, Harry. Please, just understand.” You stepped closer to him, cupping his face, “You’re never here for me anymore and I’m done holding on to the ghost of you.”

“What can I do? Anything, please,” his nose reddened, eyes going tearful as he was just about to melt in your hands, watching you shake your head, “Please, lovie, anything.”

���I’m done.” You whispered in the midst of a sob, leaning forward to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth, “I tried.”

And with that, you got into the car before speeding off, leaving Harry standing there, his heart seeming to wave him off as he watched your car disappear.

//

He was shit.

He had tried to contact you, even tried to visit you at your work only to get told that you were taking a few days off.

He messaged you everyday for 3 weeks, called and left voice notes.

His friends felt bad for him when they knew, but they felt worse when he broke down one day when his band visited to check up on him,

“If only I wasn’t part of all of this! If you didn’t drag me into all of this shit, she would have still been here! Right here in her fucking home with me!”

“Hey! You got no one to blame but yourself. You’re the one who decided to blow her off every time, even when Mitch and I asked you about her and gave you an earful so don’t fucking put the blame on anyone but yourself, Harry!” Sarah had knocked some sense into him, “I love you and all, but this is all you and whatever will happen next will be you. Don’t wait for anyone to pick up your mess because it’s about time you act and show her you love her.”

He deserved that.

Harry had tried countless of times, visited your old apartment only to face an old man holding a puppy who had no idea who you were.

He found himself sitting in his studio one night – where he slept because he couldn’t bring himself to sleep in your bedroom – his journal perched up as his pen worked on it. It was like he didn’t need to think about it, he went on auto-pilot and before he could realize it, he had written a song.

You weren’t any better. 2 months later and you were still avoiding his calls. It didn’t help that you got another phone and number but kept your old one, only to know that he still remembered you and you felt pathetic for it.

His fans were bombarding you with questions on yours and his whereabouts, saying that you’ve been inactive for way too long and it wasn’t like you to not interact with them, but you couldn’t. You couldn’t pretend that everything was fine when it wasn’t.

By the 3rd month, you began to go other places than your workplace.

You met up with 2 of your friends, giving them short answers and “yeah”s as they talked. With your mind being somewhere else, you unlocked your phone and opened Instagram, checking your explore page.

And there it finally was; a picture of him. His beard and moustache had grown, untrimmed and messy as his hair. His eyes were hidden behind a pair of sunglasses, yellow sweatpants and a grey hoodie worn along with his running shoes while he walked.

Your breath hitched in your throat as you opened the photo, checking the caption to read it;

‘Harry out a few minutes ago!’

As fresh as your favorite home baked pastries this photo was. Your eyes moved from him to the shop behind him, zooming with your fingers before letting out a gasp.

“Y/N? Is everything okay?” One of your friends asked.

“I have to go.” You quickly said, slinging on your bag before you shot out of your seat and outside, frantically looking left and right before walking towards the shop you had seen in the picture.

You didn’t even know what you were doing. Hell, you shouldn’t have been doing that, looking for him like that.

You panted, reaching up to place a hand on your rapidly beating heart as you stood in front of the shop.

God, you felt stupid.

“Y/N…”

You heard it, then you felt it; his hand, gentle on your shoulder.

You turned, coming face to face with the man you had sworn up and down was the love of your life – and you knew he still was.

He snatched off his sunglasses, as if they played a trick on him but they weren’t because you stood right there.

“You’re here.” He breathed out.

Harry’s green eyes were staring into yours, hand still on your shoulder.

At the feeling that rushed through you; one that made you feel that one more minute and you would be in his arms, kissing him and going back home with him, you slowly shook your head. “I have to leave.”

“No, please, please, a minute. Just a minute.” Harry pleaded with wide eyes, desperation in his voice.

“If I stay for one more minute, I won’t control myself. Please let me go.” You closed your eyes as you spoke softly.

“I can’t.”

“You can. You did it more than once.”

One final jab to his heart, you turned, rushing to cross the street before getting in your car.

//

The news of a sudden single drop was everywhere.

Friends and family texted you to ask if you had heard the song, most asking you to “please talk it out with Harry, he seems really sorry.”

Your coffee, sat waiting for you as you read the wave of tweets that crashed on you from fans, most of asking you what your friends and family asked of you, some others apologizing on his behalf, some others questions if the song was about you to begin with, and some others giving you shit for “breaking Harry’s heart.”

You were quick to click on a YouTube link that was attached to a tweet of a fan reacting to the song, sitting up straight and suddenly feeling nauseous as the screen changed.

Harry Styles – Reasons To Hate You.

Your stomach dropped as you saw him. In a white tee and black shorts, his hair was held back with your light blue clip while he sat in a chair behind his mic in the comfort of your home studio, holding the black guitar you had gifted him for his 26th birthday.

“Can you just lie to me

And ruin these memories

'Cause I've gotta forget somehow

So I'm begging you, burn us to the ground,” Harry sang as he played the guitar.

“Cause I know it's over

But I don't know what to do

So help me get over

Help me get over you,”

With no intentions to stop the tears, you let yourself cry, reaching up to stifle a sob by putting a hand to your mouth.

“And tell me you love somebody else or something

Or say you've been unfaithful to me

'Cause I need a reason to hate you, a reason to let you go

A reason to move on 'cause without one I know I won't

So tell me you love somebody else or something

Or say you've been unfaithful to me.”

He had looked up to his camera, and as he did, you felt like he was physically there and singing for you.

“Where do we go from here?

Do you just disappear?

'Cause I don't think I can be your friend

When it feels like the break isn't gonna mend.”

You stopped questioning your moves, and as proof, you had no idea what you were thinking when you grabbed your car keys and bolted out of the studio apartment you had rented, the song still playing.

“'Cause even after all this time, I'm hoping I can change your mind

'Cause hope's the only open door left to choose

So let me out for good because I know that I'm not strong enough

To stop myself from feeling things for you

So don't give me the truth.”

And you drove to him, right back to your home.

The song had replayed itself 4 times before you were finally out of your car and rushing to the door, ringing the bell and knocking, cursing yourself for forgetting your keys back at that apartment.

The door opened and there he stood, in the same clothes with the same clip holding back his hair.

Harry didn’t have time to comprehend before you threw yourself at him, crying into his chest.

“You’re such an asshole.” You cried, “How can you release something like that, you shit?”

He held on to you, hiding his face in your hair as he took you in.

“Next time, even an album won’t bring me back, you understand?” You mumble, feeling his arms tighten around you as he kissed your head then shoulder.

“There won’t be a next time.”

[icefire149]

Megstiel cause you are making me think about it more and with the #1 prompt please <3

It's HERE!!! I really hope you enjoy this, because I had a blast writing. <3333333333

#1 “Why do you have to look at me like that? It’s making me weak, please stop.” - Meg/Castiel

“How long do you think dumb and dumber are gonna be?” Meg asked pointing in the direction the brothers went with her thumb.

Cas’ eyebrows pinched together in initial confusion before process of elimination logically brought him to what the demon was referring to. Roughly.

Sighing, Meg crossed her arms as she leaned against the side of the impala. “We really need to prioritize your movie education.”

“Oh.” The lines in his face smoothed out. “So this isn’t about Sam and Dean?”

An amused grin curved on Meg’s face. “Well, I’m glad you at least got the gist. And yeah, I was talking about those two.”

“Not too long,” Cas answered, letting his eyes wander over to the convenience store window. The corner of his mouth moved an uptick the second his stare found Dean tossing something small in Sam’s direction. “Now was a good time for a supply run. We don’t know if Crowley will be waiting in front or behind us.”

Meg rolled her eyes. “I’d rather get in and get out as quickly as possible.” She paused and then considered, “Though, I wouldn’t mind rubbing the tablet in Crowley’s face.”

“It would be most beneficial if we didn’t cross paths with him at all tonight.” The command lessened in his tone as Cas shifted his gaze back to her.

She quirked an eyebrow. “Are we suddenly pacifists now?” Her arms fell back to her sides, exasperated. “Again!” And then, Meg felt like she was burning.

An intensity ignited in Cas’ eyes as he trailed over every speckle of blood and bruise that was visible on her skin. He curled his fingers gently around her wrist and raised it closer to his eye level, studying the gauze. Slowly, he looked up through his lashes. “Yes.”

A strangled gasp slipped from Meg’s mouth, but Cas didn’t acknowledge it as he glanced back to her wrist, worrying about his handiwork.

“I asked Dean to buy more bandages,” he confessed. “I hope he remembers. This will need to be rewrapped later.”

Her lips trembled at the timbre of his voice. “Why do you have to look at me like that?”

“Like what?” Cas raised a coy eyebrow.

“Knock it off,” she bit, but Meg had yet to pull her hand out of his light grip. “Like I’m something fragile….something worth..preserving.” Her voice fell to a hushed whisper by the final word.

The intensity in Cas’ gaze softened. He stepped forward, and heartbeat by heartbeat, she eased into the warmth of his presence.

“It’s making me weak, please stop,” Meg breathed. “I can’t...”

“It’s your vulnerability to give. When you choose it.” A small, genuine smile grew on his face. “But regardless, I do think you’re worth preserving.”

She stared at him a moment, digesting his words. It wasn’t that long ago that Meg would’ve found this situation sickening. Feelings were cheap manipulation, but….that wasn’t what was happening here. And….that revelation was leaving her almost dumbstruck.

The corner of Cas’ smile hooked playfully as it grew some more, and Meg knew that she’d been transparent. “Oh?” Meg lifted her chin higher and moved a fraction closer. “I didn’t take you as the bleeding heart type when your head is screwed on right.”

-

The increase of warmth prickling his skin was the last thing Cas perceived before he was suddenly elsewhere. He blinked. His hand was empty.

“Castiel.”

His gaze snapped to the source of the sound immediately. “Naomi.” He didn’t know how he knew that or why her displeased look made his wings itch to uncurl.

“I thought we were just using the vile blight to find the angel tablet.”

And then, the truth flashed before his eyes. Ah. He could feel the hooks buried deep in the core of his being. Tethering him to this place. His gaze narrowed.

“Is that no longer the case?” Naomi asked, lacing her fingers together and placing them on the desk in front of her.

“We are.”

Cas’ words hung in the air for several moments while Naomi stared back at him. And then, she smiled. “I don’t believe you.”

-

The smirk on Meg’s face wavered as Cas didn’t react right away. “Heh, did I hit a nerve, Casanova?”

But, Cas’ blue eyes grew vacant as the moment ticked on by. The fingers curled around her wrist let go, and his hand fell limply at his side.

“Hey!” Meg yelled, fear sharp in her voice. She snapped her fingers in his face. “Earth to Clarence.”

A thick bead of blood formed in the corner of Cas’ eye and then started smearing down his cheek.

-

Naomi sighed, stepping away from the chair Castiel was strapped down to. “I can’t believe I almost forgot about the demon.” Her fingertips were stained with the spatter of blood. “Your behavior today is making more sense. Disgusting.”

Cas followed her movements throughout the room with the eye she didn’t violate in her rummaging through his memories. He swallowed thickly.

“When I restored you to working order after purgatory, I severed those emotional ties. But it seems I didn’t cut nearly deep enough.” Naomi pivoted on her heel. “First the hunter, and now this demon,” She snarled. “What is wrong with you that you’d rather drop to your knees and worship at the feet of recrement.”

“It’s irrelevant to our mission,” Cas said, hoping to redirect her train of thought. “You’re wasting time. We need to find that tablet. Now.”

Naomi crossed her arms. “And what do you suggest?”

“Let me go-”

She laughed, and shook her head incredulously.

“-and we can resume this conversation once I retrieve the tablet. Heaven and the mission comes first.”

They stared at each other in silence until finally Naomi gave her answer, “Fine.” She crossed back over to the chair, and picked up her drill once more. “But after I make a few improvements.”

-

Without a second thought, Meg barreled into the angel. Her hands latched onto both sides of his face, but he still didn’t react at all. She stared into his eyes, looking for any spark of life. He felt like solid stone under her touch. “Castiel!”

And in a blink-you-would’ve-missed-it moment, there was a flash of light. That’s all the hope she needed. Meg pulled his face to hers, silently begging that he wouldn’t collapse like a stack of bricks, and kissed him.

Weakly, he pressed into her lips and Meg pulled back. “What the fuck was that? Where did you-” Her rage died down just as quick as it flared.

Gradually, Cas raised his hands to cover over hers on his face. He woozily shifted his weight on his feet. More blood, so much more, gushed from his eye. “Mm-meg?”

A nervous chuckle pried her mouth into a tiny smile. “Hey, I’m right here. Try not to go fluttering off again.”

“I-” Cas squished his eyes shut as he focused. “Someone in Heaven is….hur-hurting mm...me.” His hands slid forward down her wrists and then up her arms. It was there that he paused and curled his fingers around her like a lifeline.

“I need to know who I’m plucking and roasting on a spit. Give me a name.” She searched his face for any kind of clue, but there was nothing other than the answer trapped in his throat.

Meg glanced back over towards the store. She couldn’t see the Winchesters, but she knew they’d be out any minute now. Gritting her teeth, it wasn’t soon enough.

“Is it still happening now?” Meg asked, turning back to the angel. She felt like an idiot as a new pulse of blood gushed from his eye as he nodded.

-

“If you weren’t the most headache inducing light, you’d actually be fascinating.” Naomi frowned, ignoring the screams below her. “My work is easier conceptualized as a sculpting craft. Shaping and carving….it’s so much more hands on.” Her gaze slid to the drill in her hand.

As an extension of her will, she dug deep into Castiel’s memory. His light was spun into complex webs of memories. Every taut string, if plucked was thunderous with emotion.

“And it’s fitting. Like our father at his workbench, I make angels.” A fond smile tugged at her lips as she severed a chord here and loosened another there. “But that’s not accurate. Angels are so different from carbon based life. It’s much more like tuning a stubborn instrument, but when I’m done Heaven is harmonious once again.”

The next section she reached for soured her mood. “I know I fixed this. You keep doing this Castiel.” Naomi shook her head. “How do you keep finding ways to bridge new pathways to these areas, again and again?”

-

“I...don’t know-” Cas opened his eyes. The right was so sticky with blood. “-h-how long until….or if I’ll even re-remember this.” His grip on Meg’s arms loosened some.

“Okay,” Meg answered. Her mind hadn’t stopped trying to think of solutions, but she was at a loss. How do you strategize for this? What even-

And then, Castiel flopped forward. He bowed his head, sinking into the space between her shoulder and neck.

Meg’s eye twitched as she fought against the smile her mouth desperately wanted to curl into. How did her life reach this level of insanity? She was long past her threshold of touchy-feely stuff, and yet, her traitorous hands were already comforting him. One was planted on his back and the other was softly carding through his hair. A part of her wanted to laugh at the ridiculous sight they must’ve made.

“Mm-my head feels scra-ammbled.”

And his quiet mumble knocked a laugh out of her. Meg’s fingers curled tightly in his hair. “You look like it...although I think your egg is a bit runny.” His body trembled under her fingertips. “And before you ask, yes, that was a joke.”

“I feel like...I-I could almost put myself back together…..she’s ru-rushing-”

“Clarence, spit a name out.”

“-bubut it’s li-like the pieces are….just ou-out of reach.”

“We can’t help without the name. Think!”

Cas shifted his head so his cheek was firmly pressed against her. He spoke in a quiet voice, “I’m sorry I didn’t find you sooner.”

That was the last thing on Meg’s mind. His admission was paralyzing as was his breath against her skin. The heat sent a shiver down her spine.

“I’m sorry,” he confessed again.

The angel’s lips were only a fraction away from her neck. It was agonizing. “So, what’s the game plan?” Her voice came out strained. Meg needed to focus.

“Find the….the tablet and..figure out the re-rest when we gget there.”

Other fics from this round of prompts

Previous round of prompts

[intangibly-here]

i miss you (more than anything)

zhongli x gn!reader

- scenario; 2.4k words - modern!au - fluff - jealousy

————————————————————

zhongli isn’t one for jealousy— usually.

title from mitski - francis forever.

requested by anon.

————————————————————

“an excellent choice, sir.”

again with the nicknames... 

slender fingers pick up a considerably stylized box, the smooth white a stark contrast to dark, glove-adorned palms. zhongli turns the box over in his hands, inspecting the various fine print explanations splayed along the edges of the plastic. now this is...

BANG!

clink. 

zhongli barely stifles a flinch at the sound of the door slamming, hinges squeaking and metal lock clicking into place with a whirlwind of motion. amber eyes flick up to the doorway, then back down to the polished counter.

five minutes late.

he sets the ice cube he’s handling into a wine glass after a brief pause, beginning to fashion up a flute of apple cider vinegar. the pattering of lively footsteps against tiled flooring rapidly grows nearer, clattering to a halt directly across the bar from where he stands. 

“hey there, mister zhongli! looking just about as boring as ever!”

hu tao plops into the cushioned chair, swiveling back and forth on the seat and leaning forward to watch him pour the concoction.

(it’s designated for customers of course— though that’s only usually. she happens to claim, to his exasperation, that she has “owner privileges”; whatever that could possibly mean when the place itself is meant to serve the needs of customers: that would include the spacing and chairs they may potentially desire when they enter the premises. unfortunately, he’s given up on understanding on her whims.)

from his position across the counter, zhongli absentmindedly spies the edge of a bright-red butterfly wing from underneath her outfit’s loose, flowing sleeves, the simple pendant string looped twice around her wrist. 

swallowtail. 

it’s the name (”like the butterfly, zhongli! the butterfly!”) of the establishment he’s currently employed at and is “run” by the granddaughter of a distant relative (though the bar is legally owned by said relative’s family). due to his— well, rather particular (per say) spending habits and a lack of mindfulness regarding the matter of what they liked to call savings (why would there be a need for these “savings”? he’d like to protest he’s traversed life well enough without them), he’d been pushed into putting the multitude of experience from past jobs into this one. 

and well, here he is now. 

chop. chop. 

two evenly-sliced apple slices tip over from against the blade of the knife and onto the wooden cutting board. fetching a sprig of mint from the small potted plant just below the rack of knives (growing lights and shelving did wonders in the spontaneous lighting of the nightclub), zhongli finished decorating the non-alcoholic drink of choice for the pseudo-proprietress. who knew what havoc she’d cheerfully throw herself into, archons forbid, if it were liquor. she’s already enough of a handful as it is. 

he sighs in resignation and slides the beverage over. the ice tinkles in the glass confines. he does have a favor to ask today after all. hu tao gives the drink a sniff, then puffs her cheeks in mock anger. 

“no alcohol? booooo, you’re such a rock.”

she takes a generous sip anyway. 

“so, what did you call me here for? not very zhongli-like for you to ask something of lil’ ol’ me. archons, have you been replaced?” 

she squints at him judgingly, then raises an eyebrow when he hesitates to answer.

“doesn’t look that way, old man.”

zhongli can feel the beginnings of a headache forming between his brows. he waves his hand dismissingly as if flicking away her babbling nonsense. 

“i have a favor to ask of you.”

“oh-ho?”

hu tao smirks playfully and pushes the half-finished drink aside, craning her neck forward. 

“what can i do for our esteemed mister zhongli, hm? hehe.”

zhongli clenches his fist under the edge of the woodwork in an effort to calm his raging annoyance. 

(it doesn’t help.)

he should just ask, shouldn’t he..?

“..i’ve been pondering this for a number of days now, but nothing quite appropriate for the occasion has happened to come to mind... do you happen to have any gift ideas for...”

he looks to the side to avoid eye contact and trails off, but hu tao immediately gets the memo. 

“ohhh..” her smile only grows wider, “this is for your daaaate—”

zhongli’s face flushes the slightest tinge of rosy pink and he hisses a sharp “shush!” through gritted teeth. and here he had thought she couldn’t get on his nerves beyond how she’d already acted thus far... 

the cheshire grin on her face still continues to climb. 

“well, you’ve definitely asked the right person! how about...”

some new polaroid film? is what she had proposed.

“it’s not some fancy-schmancy anniversary gift, no? just a date! a date! don’t worry yourself so much over it— no, don’t look at me like that. if you called me over to ask about it, you’re deeeefinitely losing hair over this— okay, okay, i got it! don’t kick me out! old man... sheesh. why don’t you get some more polaroid film and wrap it up all nice? useful and an excuse to take more pictures together! i know, i know, i’m a genius— mmph!”

he can still hear her voice bouncing around in his head (”can’t believe you’re getting rid of your boss, mister zhongli! didn’t take you for the rebellious type—”). zhongli brings his hand up to his temple and breathes out another sigh. it’s not like her idea was a terrible one; if anything, it were a wonderfully exquisite proposal— not that he would tell her. 

“i’d like to purchase this, if you would.”

he hands the box over to the shopkeep, who scans the package and rings up the bill. indiscreetly, he feels up the pocket of his jacket. thank the archons he remembered his wallet today. it would certainly be embarrassing to put this particular item on your tab. 

“sure thing, mister zhongli. i’m assuming this is a gift,” they eye him knowingly, “so would you like it wrapped up?” 

deja vu, his brain mutters, this is very much deja vu. he shuts it up promptly. 

“not this time, but you have my sincerest thanks for the offer. i’d like to wrap it myself.” he can feel his (generally..) expressionless face flaring up the faintest hint of pink and berates his mind once more. only when it comes to you...

acquiring the purchased item, zhongli dips his head in acknowledgement as he heads out. the plants hanging from baskets strung along the ceiling sway their leaves to and fro, nearly catching a wayward lock of his hair. he smooths the stray strand back.

“thank you once again, aether. let lumine know they can drop by for some tea again whenever they’d like for me, please.”

the bell hanging over the doorway tinkles when he pushes it open, and the bustle of the busy harbor seeps into the tranquility of the shop. aether nods and waves a hand at him in return, resting an arm on the cash register. 

“come again.”

-

while he’d imagined many ways your planned outing could play out, this was certainly not one of them. 

he’s approaching the meeting spot you two had decided on (right in front of the flowering quince tree near the park; its blooms resemble those of simpler, smaller silk flowers, and it happens to be quite the scenic location to wait) when he spies not only your stature, but another figure residing right besides you. 

who...?

as he steps closer, he can hear your laughter, the kind that he knows bubbles out of your chest and escapes your lips unconsciously. your amusement isn’t lost on your companion apparently, because they smirk teasingly, letting out a full-blown laugh of their own. 

“oh, zhongli, over here!”

your voice snaps him out of his meandering thoughts, and he stops fiddling with his earring (when did he start doing that?), continuing forward from where he’d paused in his observations of this newcomer. something starts to bloom in his chest, small and bittersweet. he’s not sure what to make of it. 

following your beckoning, zhongli finally makes his way to your side, mentally taking note of your.. friend? he doesn’t remember you mentioning anyone like this before though. surely he would remember your friends, no? 

his earring sways in the wind, white tassel fluttering cheerfully. 

“zhongli, this is my friend kaeya. i met him when i made that trip to mondstadt awhile back, remember that? oh, and kaeya, this is my boyfriend zhongli.”

(the little dragon curled up in his heart preens at your introduction of him, small and sweet.) 

ice blue meets molten gold when zhongli’s eyes dart up to make eye contact with this stranger. they squint at him, assessing, then dip into the makings of a playful twinkle. a hand reaches out for a handshake, which he returns in equal measure. interesting...

“he got a little lost touring liyue and i happened to see him here in the park. small world, huh? i know it was our day love, but do you mind if we take him around for today?”

zhongli smiles appeasingly, gentle and assuring as always. he can recognize the slightly nervous look on your face, one that’s a stark contrast to how energetic you’d looked just a few minutes ago. if kaeya’s company makes you happy and you’d like to take him around, then who is he to refuse your request? you two will have more time to spend with just the two of you later, he reasons with himself. accompanying your friend, and in turn his acquaintance, is nothing big.

(and no, it’s certainly not you calling him love that makes him cave.)

“of course we can.”

tugging at the string of his eyepatch, kaeya swiftly ties his hair back and adjusts the collar of his shirt. “so, where to first?”

zhongli takes your hand in his, squeezing softly. you squeeze back.

getting along together should come just fine.

-

he takes it back. 

he takes it all back. 

he’d accepted it at first because, well, this was your friend. he shouldn’t be controlling who you interact with nor who befriended you - that’s not up to him. it shouldn’t ever be. however—  with every passing moment that kaeya inched closer to you, taking up the entirety of your attention and bringing that bright, bright grin to your face—

(this was supposed to be your date. just the two of you. he hasn’t seen you in a month; surely he can feel a bit selfish, right?)

the three of you turn the corner to an intricately-themed restaurant and pause, where even zhongli looks appreciatively at the beautifully grown bamboo stalks lining the edges of its front walls. 

“wanmin restaurant,” kaeya reads, craning his neck up to gaze at the signboard. bold red calligraphy is sprawled across the rough-cut wood. “awfully simple name for such a stunning place, isn’t it?”

if he weren’t stewing in a pot of conflicted emotions, zhongli would surely inform him of how carefully selected this title was, how it represented more than just a name, how it hid at least several decades worth of effort and teachings— but as it is, he (really, of all people) has no patience for that at the moment. 

first tugging on the hem of your outfit, zhongli then takes you by the elbow and hastily leads you forward to the glass doors of the establishment. he grasps your hand in his as usual, but something must be off, because you twitch a little and look at him curiously. 

he turns his head away, lips pursed just the slightest.

“let us dine here for the time being. it is an appropriate time and place, after all.”

the sun shines brightly in the clear sky as if illuminating his words.

kaeya raises an eyebrow, singular eye looking on inquisitively and arms crossed, then moves further ahead of you both once more. the corner of his mouth dips in a clear show of mirth. bowing with one arm held at the waist, one not unalike a formality from a server, he looks straight into zhongli’s eyes and holds the door open for entrance. 

“that sounds like an excellent idea. well, if you would.”

-

“thanks for the tour around you two.”

kaeya hums his thanks with a cheerful lilt to his voice as you all stand under the porchlight of zhongli’s house. 

(it’s not the largest abode, but it’s cozy and sweet, and it’s definitely enough for the both of you whenever you decide to stay over. tonight is one of those nights, and they may as well become more frequent after the trip you took abroad.) 

his car keys reflect the glow of the bulb, swinging around his finger in loops. they clink noisily, metal against metal, and he grabs them all at once, halfway through another turn. in his car sits a box of treasure-themed artifacts, likely old and had found its way into your hands somehow. zhongli knows you’d been meaning to give them to someone, but he hadn’t known it were kaeya— either way, the artifacts that’d been laying on his shelves for weeks were now handed off. 

ruffling your hair, kaeya pulls you in for a brief hug; although zhongli can feel the bitter pang in his chest, he stays where he stands, keeps it still and small. he can wait. 

that said, the moment kaeya drives off, he’s hauling you into the house and curling up on the couch, pulling you onto his lap and tugging you into his arms. the long thought over gift sits patiently on the counter. it’s waited the entirety of today; it can wait another. 

right now, he needs you. 

your body sinks against his, relaxing from the lively, though exhausting, day. slumped against his chest, he burrows his head in the crook of your shoulder and cuddles you, nuzzling into your neck. finally, you’re home. home with him. 

it’s warm...

“..it was our day...”

you shift your head at his mumbling, lifting his chin to presumably look at his expression. your attention is his now. not kaeya’s. not anyone else’s. just his. 

(his eyes are soft and droopy, smudged red making them look especially mellow in the dim lighting, and lips pushed into the slightest pout. he knows what you’re seeing when you gaze at him fondly, and you can almost see the puppy eyes he sports. how unusual of him.)  

“someone’s a little jealous here, hmmm?” 

you drag out the syllables teasingly, and from lips that are pressing kisses against your skin, he responds a little muffled—

“perhaps.”

[thetriggeredhappy]

(I love all of your writings) one of Scout's voice lines literally broke my heart. The one in the Birthday mode which said that no one came to his birthday :"((( the fact that he called everyone his best friends make it sadder. Can you write about that a little bit. I know that you have written about his birthday before but can you do one more pleaseeeeeee

birthday boy time

(warnings for alcohol mention, mention of violence, and injury)

-

“Happy birthday, lad,” Demo greeted, clapping him on the shoulder as he passed by. Scout lit up, calling back a greeting in return.

Call him a sap, but he hadn’t quite given up on having fun birthdays yet. He’d heard it a hundred times from most of the rest of the team, that you stop focusing so much on your birthday when you get older, but not this guy. Scout was determined to actually have a nice birthday.

That being said, he knew by then, after those first few years working with the team, that they had a bit of a history of not necessarily being 100% on board with doing a whole thing purely because someone was a year older, and he mostly settled for bugging some of the team into going out for drinks or ordering a bunch of pizza and playing board games, stuff like that. A hundred times more low-key than what he’d do if they were in Boston, but hey, he took what he could get, and it usually ruled anyways.

To be honest, he didn’t even really have plans that year. He’d said as much when he was asked earlier that week. It was the middle of the week, not all that close to the weekend, so going out with everyone was pretty much off the table, as was getting drunk considering they all had work the day after. He was gonna head into town and get himself a gift, that was most of his plan, maybe hang out with everyone later on too. He’d been saving his money for a while, a just-in-case fund that he’d been working on for a few years, a luxury he didn’t have growing up, and didn’t tend to spend much money on himself outside of snack food and Bonk and sometimes comic books or little things like that. It would be nice to get himself something he really liked. That alone was plenty of excitement. Not an adrenaline kind, just a regular, nice sort of thing.

Overall, he was honestly just thrilled that apparently everyone actually remembered this year, greeted all morning by similar casual “hey, happy birthday”s, including a particularly excited one from Pyro, who hugged him and spun him in a few circles outright. He had plenty of time next year to do some really sick birthday stuff, but overall, he was just gonna chill out, treat himself for once, and relax.

-

“Alright everyone,” the Engineer said grimly, half an hour previously, casting a look around the room. “Here’s the plan.”

The team minus their fastest member were all gathered around the debriefing table, and this time, rather than Miss Pauling with official orders or Soldier with the latest new strategy, it was the Engineer standing up front holding a piece of chalk.

“We’ve been over this, Toymaker, twice weekly all month,” Demo drawled, rolling his eye.

“I know that, but this is important,” he stressed.

“It is true,” Heavy rumbled, nodding solemnly. “This is big deal.”

“We can’t afford to let this one get mucked up considering our history,” the Engineer said firmly. “Every year it’s somethin’. This year we aren’t taking any chances, especially after that catastrophe last year.”

A groan from the team as they collectively remembered. A nod from the Engineer.

“We’re lucky Firebug was the one to ask why Scout was in the kitchen combing the cabinets and not one of us, otherwise he would’ve found out for sure. If he knew we all forgot his birthday, it would crush him,” he said emphatically. The team looked embarrassed as a whole, while Pyro looked particularly mortified. “And we can’t just buy the damn kid a few pizzas and hand him alcohol like that was the plan again this year.”

“Fortunately for all of you, I’ve been so generous as to look into a few things,” Spy piped in, pausing to take a drag from his cigarette.

“As if you won’t take any excuse to snoop,” Sniper mumbled, and was glared at.

“I resent that remark,” Spy scoffed. “Regardless. I happen to know that we’re in luck, and that Scout is planning to go into town for a short period of time this afternoon. For what purpose, I’m not sure. But it should mean we have plenty of time to set everything up.”

“I trust you all have gifts ready?” Medic asked, and received a general murmur of agreement, and made a check on the paper he had attached to a clipboard. “Ja, ja, that is good. Herr Demoman, Pyro, you are done with your baking?”

“Cake is baked, iced, and decorated,” Demo nodded, Pyro giving a thumbs up of agreement.

“Soldier, how are decorations?”

“Acquired and prepared for deployment!” Soldier barked, holding up a hand in salute.

“Doc, Heavy, you two were meant to run interference,” the Engineer said, and the two nodded. “With that not a worry, how about you help with the cooking and decorating?”

“Heavy can do this,” Heavy agreed, and Medic nodded as well, jotting down a few notes on his clipboard.

“And the snake was gonna help with anything that went wrong, and Sniper, you were gonna help with headed into town for anything we needed last minute,” the Engineer said, and received nods from the two of them.

“Do we need anything so far?” Sniper asked.

“No, we’re fine for now. And I’ve got my own setup handled,” the Engineer said, and nodded a few times to himself. “Alright. Sounds like we’re golden.”

“Ja, very good. Herr Spy, would you keep an eye on Scout and let the rest of us know when we can begin getting ready?” Medic asked.

“Obviously,” Spy said.

“Alright. Now go on, get, he’ll be wondering why we’re all running late, act natural,” the Engineer said, shooing them all from the conference room.

-

Later that day after battle was over, Spy dispersed news not long later that Scout had gotten changed into civvie clothes and gone into town on his bike, and they all leapt into action. Within half an hour, the decorations were ready, streamers and balloons in every direction, the table unfolded from their storage (only used when they needed to seat the entire team, which wasn’t often) and was set up with the cake, ready to have candles lit, the presents were stacked neatly, the Engineer had set up the new sound system he’d been working on (put into crunch time to have ready for the occasion), everything was set up and perfect. The only thing they still needed was Scout.

They settled in to wait, knowing town was a good twenty minutes away, thirty if he was headed to the better one. By the time he found everyone, Spy said that it had been about ten minutes, and they took around thirty to set everything up, meaning that Scout would probably be at least another ten minutes, maybe as much as half an hour. Spy would keep his eyes open and warn them when he came back, but in the meantime, they could relax while they waited.

In the meantime, Soldier and Demo attempted a few ‘finishing touches’ (putting party hats on his more docile raccoons and setting out some firecrackers and sparklers, respectively), and some of the other members of the team sat to play cards for a bit. Pyro, easily the most antsy, burned their way through the box of matches that sat waiting next to the cake one by one and started idly playing with their lighter when they ran out, occasionally lighting some of the extra candles.

Half an hour came and went. Forty minutes. Fifty. An hour.

They asked Spy if he had any word yet. The answer was no, and the visual of a few cigarette butts littered around Spy’s feet and a scowl.

The Engineer played a few song requests on the sound system. Soldier switched around party hats on the raccoons to better suit their personalities. Demo lit a sparkler and let it burn out. They switched card games.

At the two hour mark, the concern was starting to build in all of them. Maybe Scout went even further than any of them had expected. He hadn’t told any of them to wait up for him, to be fair. But he always told them outright if he wouldn’t be back for supper, and he hadn’t said anything, and should’ve been back by then. It was getting well into sundown.

“I am preparing to declare Scout as officially AWOL,” Soldier mumbled somewhere near the two/and-a-half hour mark, just a bit angrily, adjusting the party hat on Corporal Munch where it was crooked. Demo patted him on the shoulder to console him.

“He’ll get here when he gets here,” he assured, going back to fiddling with a party popper.

“Don’t waste those,” the Engineer warned. “And no queens, Go Fish.”

A groan from Medic. Demo shrugged. “We have some extra. Here, just to liven her up.”

He tugged the string on the popper, setting it off and sending a short shower of confetti onto Soldier, and that was where it all went wrong.

Corporal Munch, startled, made a little yelp-like noise and quickly clawed up Soldier’s chest, startled and attempting to escape. Soldier tried to grab on harder, but that just made the raccoon even more alarmed, and it rushed to clamor faster, digging claws in hard. Heads turned in time to see Soldier losing his grip and the animal rushing away towards the nearest enclosed, dim space, which just so happened to be the table Pyro was sitting at with the cake.

Pyro leapt up from their seat, battle instincts kicking in for a moment, and the movement startled the Corporal, who veered suddenly and crashed directly into one of the chairs, toppling it and the one directly next to it and making the entire table jerk.

Pyro, panicked, quickly grabbed the cake stand before it could fall over, dropping their lighter and the candle in their hand. The two things landed on the tablecloth, and by the time Pyro realized their mistake, they’d already lit the thin paper tablecloth on fire.

Shouting around the room as teammates attempted to leap into action, Pyro trying to save the cake from the fire first and foremost, Soldier attempting to catch the Corporal, who was only becoming more freaked out over time. Heavy moved to snatch up some of the other flammable items off of the table, but misjudged where Pyro was moving, and Pyro collided with him, the cake tumbling from the stand and directly across the both of them. The Corporal, entirely confused on the commotion, attempted to claw into the space under the cards table, making Medic yelp as his legs were torn into, Sniper rushing to try and catch the animal as well. Demo, having found the fire extinguisher, realized he was a bit late as he tried to put out the table, most of the tablecloth gone and the fire having spread across the streamers, and he tried to put out what he could, and it was only with the Engineer’s cry of dismay that he remembered, oh, right, those streamers were on top of that shiny new sound system, weren’t they. With a final puff, the ‘Happy Birthday’ sign went up in flames and was gone, and the team was left there in the wreckage.

Spy rounded the corner into the room, eyebrows furrowed from the commotion he’d heard. When he saw the smoking, foamy, cake-y remains, all he could do was sigh, kneading at the bridge of his nose. “Something new every year, is it?” he drawled.

-

It took them the better part of forty minutes to clean up the mess, and even then, the room had a weird smell to it. By the end of everything, all they had was one of the undecorated practice cakes Pyro had baked, some party hats, and some poppers. And by the time they were done cleaning up, Scout still hadn’t returned.

“At least he doesn’t have to see what a damn mess we made of things,” the Engineer sighed, and that seemed to be the consensus.

It was much later that Spy finally let them know that he’d seen the headlights of a motorcycle coming up the road, and the team just sighed, too tired to work up much energy. Some of them at least planned to call out a ‘happy birthday’ at him, but all they could do was stare when he walked into the room.

“Hey, guys,” Scout croaked, attempting a smile through a bruised lip.

“What the hell happened to you?” Sniper demanded, taking in the sight.

Scout was busted up in a number of different ways. What looked like a former bloody nose and a swollen lip seemed to be the worst of it, an amount of blood all down Scout’s front, staining what looked like one of his nicer civvie shirts beyond repair. There was also a dampness to his shirt and hair and a stain that implied he’d been splashed with something, practically drenched by the look of it, and he carried himself just slightly off-balance and held a bag in the arm not cradled to his abdomen.

Despite that, he managed a laugh, a lopsided grin. “Man, what the hell didn’t happen to me is more like it,” he said, shrugging. “Had a weird one.”

“Are you alright?” Medic demanded, already standing up, from his chair, and Scout shrugged again.

“Just bruises and all, it’s not an emergency or whatever, but I’d appreciate a heal or somethin’,” he admitted, and Medic left the room, hurrying towards the infirmary. “Forreal, though, what a fuckin’ night.”

“What’s on your shirt?” Spy asked, entirely deadpan, looking vaguely disgusted.

“Uh, I think it’s a margarita?” Scout said, glancing down at it and picking at his shirt vaguely. “I, uh, I should start from the top. Okay, so I went into town, right? I was just gonna buy some stuff real quick, and I got, uh… I got a little lost.”

“A little? Scooter, you’ve been gone all day!” the Engineer admonished.

“Yeah, yeah, I know, I know. There was construction on the usual road, I think they’re fixin’ a bridge or somethin’. Anyways, I got pretty far off track, but I got to town eventually. Just took a while. Anyways, I do my shopping, but because I was all rattled from havin’ to take a hundred detours I totally forget that there’s this one guy at the store that hates my guts, and I’ve gotta split pretty fast before he knocks some teeth out, y’know?”

“Do we want to know why he hates you?” Demo asked, a bit of humor in his tone.

“Nope,” Scout said simply, grinning right back. “So, yeah, but on my way into town I saw at the bar they have some kinda thing goin’ on, right, some kinda weird drink special. So I figure, hey, I’ll walk in, get the new drink, then I’ll leave, y’know? I don’t wanna have to drive home after dark and drunk. So I order, and as soon as I order some guy who’s been at the bar too long already starts tryin’ to pick a fight with me, right? And it’s a whole thing, and I finally get my drink but now there’s a whole thing, and I kinda make this offhanded comment at this gal nearby, y’know, tryin’ to make sure he knows we’re in a public place, all ‘hey, you’re really gonna embarrass yourself by pick in’ fights right in front of this real pretty girl?’, right?”

“Oh no,” Sniper sighed, already seeing where this was going.

“Well, yeah, bad luck, turns out that’s his girlfriend, and he shoves me into some guy, and I get a whole drink all over me, and mine is all over some third gut, and this whole brawl breaks out—anyways, busted lip and no drink and I’m probably not allowed in that bar anymore, but whatever, I finally start headed home.”

“Right,” Spy said, suspicious.

“And, uh, I never wanna drive at night because there’s all these animals out here, right? And the roads are shitty. And I’m headed back, and it’s dark as dicks, and I think I see this rock and I try and go around it, but then the rock moves back in my way because it’s a lizard or whatever and I hit the breaks and swerve straight into a pothole and just barely manage to keep on my bike, but I donk myself on the handlebars and totally throw my leg out of wack and all that. And, uh, and now I’m here.”

“Christ alive,” the Engineer marvelled.

“Bad day to have,” Heavy said, also stunned.

“Hey, it’ll be a funny story to tell later,” Scout shrugged, still grinning. “Got those new shoes at least, though.”

He pulled a shoebox out of the paper bag, and the box was dented into some kind of new parallelogram, barely resembling its past shape. Scout, meanwhile, was still smiling.

Silence in the room. “Well. While it is unlikely you need any more excitement today,” Spy trailed hesitantly. Pyro, understanding the cue, leapt up and hurried off into the kitchen, coming back with the cake.

“Woah, seriously?” Scout asked, eyes lighting up. “You made me a cake? Mumbles, you’re the best!”

“We, uh… we had more planned, but, some things went a little wrong,” the Engineer admitted, and trailed off as well as he looked at Scout.

“Not that we get to complain,” Demo laughed, seeming to come to the same realization as the Engineer.

“Are you joking? This rules!” Scout said, and lit up further when Medic returned with his Medigun, shaking off his injuries within a few moments. “Hey, thanks guys, seriously, no idea what I did to get such cool teammates. You guys are awesome, I mean it.”

“Dunno how we got a bloke like you, either,” Sniper shrugged, voice quiet compared to the rest of them. “Not many people can laugh after a day like yours and still have the energy to be pleased with anyone.”

“Aw, hey, I mean… y’know, it’s nothing,” Scout shrugged sheepishly, glancing away for a second. “Hey, you guys are playin’ cards? Deal me in! Oh yeah, hold on, we need plates and stuff for cake—“

He dropped his bag near the door and hurried into the kitchen. The room was quiet behind him. Demo held up a party popper, glancing around the room. The Engineer took it from him, shaking his head.

[caffeinated-cryptid]

patton and the no-good day

5.9k words | AO3 link | warnings: angst, alcohol, swearing, arguing, lashing out, minor injury, crying, fire, repetition.

“Patton wants to know what it’s like to make the right choices, so he tries...And tries. And tries and tries andtriesandtries-

(aka: a time loop fic where patton manages to revisit the day of svs, this time with the goal of making everyone happy. he quickly discovers that he's bitten off more than he can chew.)”

________________________________

Patton was unhappy. And he was unhappy because everyone else was unhappy. After the wedding, he had become so intimately aware of every mistake he had made. From Logan’s quiet dismissal when he tried to talk to him, to Virgil’s obvious avoidance of everyone, to Roman’s complete shutdown.

The only sides he could assume weren’t mad at him at the moment were Janus and Remus. And Remus was only a maybe, just based on how excited he’d been to hear that he had turned into a giant muscular frog alone.

Patton could only grimace upon recalling his breakdown. It was supposed to be the turning point for him, an indication of ‘Hey, I've come to realize that I’m deeply flawed but now I’m able to start fixing things!’. But of course, it didn’t turn out like that. Every day that passed only grew harder and harder with his mistakes staring him in the face. He was tired of waking up, dreading the insurmountable process of trying to make things right and failing, only to fall asleep and try again the next day.

It was like he was trapped in a loop of identical days, each one as ineffective as the last.

Patton could barely imagine the end of this tunnel, until one morning, he woke up and for once everything felt... different.

He ignored the feeling at first as got ready as usual, heading out towards the kitchen with the expectation of seeing empty chairs at empty tables once more. Except when he walked in this time, preparing to make a breakfast no one would eat, everyone was there already seated. It was just like how everything was before-- Janus and Remus were absent, but Logan, Virgil, Roman...all of the sides he considered his best friends were there, all togeher in one place for the first time in weeks.

He burst into tears on the spot and they collectively startled, immediately questioning what was wrong. It took a few minutes to convince them all that he was fine, that he just got emotional seeing them all because he loved them so much (which wasn't even a lie!), and in the end they accepted his explanation because sometimes that was just what Patton was like. As he sat down and tried to act as normal as possible, he couldn't help but stare at all of them, so carefree as they chatted and poked fun at each other. There wasn't a single furrowed brow, or a hidden frown, or a look of hurt. It was unfortunately because of that that he knew his gut feeling was right; there was something strange going on here.

Throughout the morning, Patton couldn’t put his finger on what was so familiar about this day until he felt a certain series of events occur: Thomas gets a call. He picks up the phone and talks with the casting agent for a famous director. He’s told that he got the callback for his audition and he’s terribly excited, so excited that his sides come out to celebrate with him and-

Oh. Oh! That was his cue, wasn’t it? Patton bit back a frown, rising up to share their excitement and then to remind them about the wedding that was scheduled for the same day. It was hauntingly familiar, seeing the way Thomas and Roman became dejected and knowing that this was only the start of an uphill battle.

And then Fauxgan came in- or rather Janus, disguised as Logan- and when Patton saw his new snakey friend, his chest swelled with excitement. This was his opportunity to change things! He knew that in the current script, Janus would soon reveal himself and begin pushing back against what Patton had said. So when that happened this time, he could simply agree and make it seem like he had been convinced to change his mind. That way, they could reach a different solution and everyone would be happy.  Simple!

Patton watched and waited patiently as the others made comments back and forth; Virgil and Janus snarking each other as Janus made his case to be listened to.

“That...can not be where the bar is!” Virgil protested in disbelief once Thomas agreed to hear him out, based on his vague 'the enemy of my enemy is a friend' ideal.

“Well, the bar for skipping an important opportunity should be higher than a...social engagement.” Janus replied distastefully.

This was where he originally jumped in to disagree. Patton saw Roman grow shifty out of the corner of his eye and knew: this was it!

“Maybe Janus is right! This is a huge opportunity. We should try to figure out a way to make both events if we can, but this means a lot for Thomas so we shouldn’t just skip it.“ Patton said confidently, even though the argument felt strange coming out of his mouth. At least he knew this time around he was making the right choice by backing down.

But the others only looked at him strangely, with varying degrees of confusion across their faces.

“Who’s Janice-”

“You’re agreeing with  him?! I knew you were acting weird-”

“How do you know my name-”

Patton’s eyes widened, realizing his subconscious mistake. He had gotten so used to referring to Deceit as Janus over the weeks that they’d been friends that his name just automatically slipped out. It was too late to take it back; the conversation was quickly derailed, with too many accusations coming out at once to even try geting back into the dilemma. At one point Janus wondered aloud if Remus had somehow gotten out and taken the form of Patton, which only raised more questions and ended with a sword pointed at his throat.

It was a disaster. They make the last-minute decision to go to the wedding out of spite for Janus and Patton.

________________________________

The next morning, Patton woke up with a start, looking around his room to find that it was exactly the way he had left it the day prior. Normally this wouldn’t be such a cause for alarm, but today it was because Patton was certain he had thrown a few things last night in childish frustration at himself for messing things up. Only soft items, because he couldn’t bear to accidentally destroy anything in his sentiment-filled room, but the fact remained that seeing his pillows lined up at the end of his bed again was a strange sign, one that had him suspicious about how this day was going to go.

To test his theory, he went down to the kitchen without bothering to change out of his pajamas, only to see the other three sides already sitting there in the exact same places as yesterday. He paused in the doorway, waiting for them to show recognition of the day prior-- for some kind of hostility or accusation. The only thing he received were snickers.

“Nice PJs, Pat.” Virgil smirked over his bowl of cereal before going back to scrolling on his phone.

Patton’s mind slowly processed this. It was as if the day had reset, back to the world he had woken up to yesterday. He sunk down into the last remaining chair and forced himself to make a joke about ‘having a PB&J sandwich to match this PJ day’, despite Logan’s protests that he would not be sharing the last jar of crofters (He always said this to deter them from eating his jam, but it was always a lie and he'd always let them have some in the end. Patton didn’t realize how much he missed that habit of his until he almost started crying again over Logan passing him the jam jar).

After a perfectly normal breakfast, he quickly returned back to his room to change and prepare for what was ahead of him. Now that he knew the day was definitely repeating and could recognise where he went wrong yesterday, he just needed to ensure he didn’t make such a silly mistake right off the bat again.

He went through the motions: Thomas getting a phone call, him reminding them of the wedding, and then the beginnings of debate.

“I agree with Deceit.” He said this time, smiling as he remembered to not use Janus’ name.

Despite his conscious effort, it doesn’t go over much better. Janus was surprised and suspicious of Patton’s sudden change of heart and Virgil immediately got on the defense. Once again, the argument quickly escalated.

“Why would you side with him?! He’s one of the others! You can’t trust him!” Virgil cried, hands tugging on his hoodie strings as he desperately tried to convince them. It was currently three against one. He must have felt cornered, having no one on his side, Patton realized belatedly.

“And how are you so sure of that?” Patton still responded back, feeling offended on behalf of his friend. He had promised himself he wouldn’t make things worse this time, but seeing Virgil get so angry at him hit a sore spot. As long as he was right about his theory, this day was already ruined the moment he sided with Janus, anyway.

“Because I was one of them!” Virgil yelled, and his expression quickly changed from frustrated to devastated to frightened. And then he sunk out, giving no one the chance to stop him.

The remaining sides stood in silence before Janus broke into hysterical laughter. Patton could hear it echo in his mind as the day reset for the third time.

________________________________

The next time, he didn’t bring up the wedding at all.

Patton didn’t want to kid himself; he was scared from seeing Virgil sink out so suddenly. After having Virgil’s anger directed at him twice and seeing him leave upset once, he figured that meant that outright siding with Janus was a risky thing to do if he wanted to make sure everyone was happy by the end of this.

So instead of trying to change his stance, he simply removed the confusing aspect out of the equation altogether and made sure no one remembered it or brought it up. This way for sure, he thought, everything would go a lot smoother.

...He was wrong.

Weeks passed after the phone call and everything was peaceful-- Patton didn’t experience any resets and he took this as a good sign, enjoying the time with his family which he had dearly been missing out on. The sides were excited for the opportunity, which only grew when the callback came and went and they aced it. It was like Patton had finally achieved the dream scenario, until one day later when Thomas summoned them with a horrified look on his face.

“I skipped Lee and Mary Lee’s wedding when I went to the callback.” Was all he said.

“...Huh? How is that possible?” Virgil asked, simultaneously looking like he was going to faint and/or run away. “That couldn’t have been yesterday, could it? I mean, the odds of that…”

“It was. However…” Logan spoke up, and everyone watched as he summoned his calendar, wearing baffled expressions when he pointed to yesterday’s date-- revealing that the wedding had never been written down at all. Thomas had somehow pushed it completely out of his mind.

“But...it was for a big opportunity! Surely they’ll understand if you explain why you had to miss the wedding.” Roman argued, glancing around at the panicking sides.

“That’s the thing, they’re upset that I didn’t tell them about it beforehand and they think I blew them off on purpose. Now all of our mutual friends think I only care about myself.” Thomas stressfully looked down at his phone as he got another text message- and not a very kindly-worded one at that. “I don’t know what to do to fix this!”

Patton paled. Surely that couldn’t be right. Could things really have gotten this bad, just because he hadn’t reminded them of the wedding?

“It looks like Thomas has become a social pariah.” A smooth voice cut in. “And I’m sure you all know who’s to blame.”

No-

________________________________

The next time, Patton woke up in tears, unable to get the image of Janus turning against him out of his mind.

This time he doesn’t try to avoid the debate. Debates were crucial; they were how they got through most of their problems! In retrospect it was silly to try and skip that part of the day altogether, but at least now he had a clearer idea of what to try next. The issue from the last attempt was that Lee and Mary Lee weren’t spoken to, so this time he’d back Roman up when he suggested communication.

When they were next able to arrange a meeting to talk, Thomas explained the situation to the couple; how he had gotten a last-minute once in a lifetime offer. They were excited for him and encouraged him to take the opportunity, but Patton saw it in their eyes, how they gave Thomas sad smiles and looked at each other with disappointment.

He panicked, and Thomas changed his tune, pretending to check his phone and coming to the ‘realization’ that he got the time wrong, that he could go after all.

Lee and Mary Lee were thrilled.

But the others hated him for it.

________________________________

The next time for sure, he thought he’d get the courage to do it right.

They talked to Lee and Mary Lee. Thomas explains the situation, and this time Patton doesn’t make him change his mind. They’re disappointed, but despite knowing this deep down Thomas stays firm and decides to go to callback anyway.

During the lead-up to the 13th of April, Roman keeps looking to him for guidance, asking if this was really alright. Patton tries to assure him, but even he doesn’t know. He feels like everything he’s doing is putting them on the right track, but after thinking he was doing the right thing and being wrong several times, he isn’t able to say for certain that they were making a good choice. Especially not with the unknown variable of Lee and Mary Lee's disappointment thrown into the mix.

Eventually Roman learns to stop coming to him with his fears, and when it comes to the callback he chokes during the performance. Thomas messes up and someone else gets the role.

They don’t get to go to the wedding or win the callback.

Roman ducks out the same day and Remus takes his place.

________________________________

The next time, Patton was overly aware of his lack of certainty. He hadn’t realized how close Roman had been to falling over the edge, so during his next attempt he can't help but keep it fresh in his mind.

Throughout the debate he makes sure to agree with the creative side. He didn’t oppose any of his arguments or call him out where he originally thought he was being selfish; he’s as kind and gentle as can be, haunted by what had happened one cycle ago.

It makes Janus upset. He knows Patton’s true stance and can’t understand why he’s silencing his voice so much for one side alone. He ends up pointing out how Patton is being underhanded by trying to use flattery to get things to go his way and then mentions how that must be how he's managed to keep everyone under his thumb for so long. Patton sees red.

It’s nice to get his steadily building frustration out. Perhaps Janus is an undeserving target of his anger, but the criticism just hit too close to home for him to accept lying down. He didn't want to be a manipulative person. He had been trying so hard to let others have their voices be heard and not seize control the narrative too much, but in the end wasn't that what he was doing now? Trying to manipulate everything, even if his motives were good? The realization had blood pumping in his ears, drowning out everything but his own voice.

Everyone becomes tense when he starts yelling and Janus only stares in shock, confused and oddly enough, hurt to be the focus of the usually happy pappy's wrath. Patton yells until his throat is hoarse, and then some more because he knows he can't damage his vocal chords here. He does it for Logan, who had been pushed aside almost every time they've done this. For Virgil, who had so many doubts and fears and was too afraid to share them until they become too much. For Roman, who was the most likely to get crushed whatever they did. For Janus, who was just trying to get a seat at the table. For Remus, who potentially never would.

For himself, who just couldn't get this right.

When he's done the room is so silent that they would have been able to hear a pin drop and he feels a weight off his chest. He's made his point, loud and clear.

Even though the others have no idea what he’s talking about.

________________________________

The next time, Patton wakes up feeling guilty for losing his temper, despite how cathartic it had been to let loose a little bit. He can’t look the others in the eye when he goes to breakfast, and instead spends the whole time in his head, trying to figure out what to try next.

This time he decides to soften his voice. He already knows it’s a mistake based on prior experience, but he doesn’t know what else to do-- doesn’t have the time to consider any other approach to take before Thomas is getting that phone call once again.

Throughout the debate, his statements fall short. He lacks conviction. He subtly tries to side with Janus and Roman, but not to the extent where it makes Virgil upset, and it only makes him look flakey. He’s flimsy; uncertain, and everyone can tell. He can practically feel Logan’s desperation to take his place from the back row.

In the end, Thomas is convinced that he’s a completely horrible and selfish person due to Patton’s lack of assertion otherwise and avoids both events out of a self-induced spiral of guilt and anxiety.

________________________________

The next time Patton is too firm. He keeps assuring Thomas that he’s not a bad person, and realizes too late that he fell back into his old habits.

Roman sentences them to the wedding again.

Patton summons a pillow to scream into in frustration.

________________________________

By the 50th loop, Patton had more or less given up. He starts the day by rolling out of bed and popping open the cork of a wine bottle right into his face. It’s in the moment he starts feeling a black eye form that he makes the formal decision: fuck it.

He skips breakfast to sip wine through a silly straw (because casual alcoholism doesn’t count when you make it fun. Or when you’re stuck in a figurative nightmare), and he changes into the most ‘dad on vacation’ clothes he owned; a gaudy hawaiian shirt and cargo shorts. He forgoes shoes because decidedly this isn’t a shoes kind of day, and after 50 god-forsaken attempts at trying to get this right, he thinks he’s earned a little self-indulgence.

When the time rolls around to start the video, he belatedly rises up in the living room tispy and wearing his old 2015 new years novelty sunglasses. The others are immediately taken aback at his appearance while Thomas grimaces.

“Ah… So that’s why I’ve been thinking about cursing people out all day.”

“You should. It’d be funny.” Patton giggles.

“...Okay.” Virgil states, likely finding his behaviour too familiar for comfort. “What the fuck."

Janus doesn’t join them this time around; instead the real Logan shows up because suddenly everything had switched courses into a completely different problem. The four of them try to figure out what’s wrong with Patton, and he refuses to cooperate the entire time, just for the heck of it. Eventually he grows bored of watching them fuss and squabble, so he starts saying the first things to come to mind, the deepest opinions that were buried under all of his repression-- things he wouldn’t dare say if he were sober and free from this hell.

“I hate all of you sometimes.” He announces over their discussion without guilt, too far gone to care how hurt the faces that looked back at him were. He knew it wasn’t real anyway, at least it wouldn’t be when the next loop started.

“I hate how I can apologize forever and it’s still not enough. I hate how I have to accept the mistakes made against me, but you all get to sulk for weeks and not even let me try to make things right. When all I’ve ever wanted is to make you happy.”

“Patton-” Logan begins hesitantly. He looks like he wants to contradict him and Patton doesn't care for it.

“Stupid of me, right Logan?” He cuts him off with a laugh, dry and completely unlike himself. Logan closes his mouth, regret flashing across his face, and it just felt so good in that moment to be the bitter one for once. He’s never done it before; always having to take the high road while everyone else chose to be petty and self-absorbed in their own egos. No fault to them for that; he felt pretty amazing right now, going against the moral code he had built and adhered to for so long. It felt forbidden and like the sort of thing he’d regret later. (And heck, with all the mistakes he’d been accidentally making, perhaps doing something wrong on purpose was like taking that power back.)

“I’m doing all of this- going through this day again and again- for what?” He continues, glaring at them individually. “I’m doing my best here- just to make everything alright again, and- fuck.”

Patton ignores the shocked expression he gets when he swears. He’s getting too close to feeling bad again, so he summons another bottle of wine. He learns from his mistake and points it away from himself this time, and the cork doesn’t hit him in the face; instead it smashes into the tv screen. Roman and Virgil yelp. Thomas stares.

“...Patton, what are you talking about?” Thomas asks.

“I suppose it doesn’t matter.” Patton giggles again after taking a long swig, sliding back against the blinds until he's on the floor. Away from the cameras, at last. “None of you will remember this anyway.”

And they don’t. (They never do)

________________________________

The next time, he wakes up without a black eye or a hangover and considers not leaving his bed today. He does anyway, just to make sure he hadn’t done something irreversible and ruined everything for real this time.

He goes to the kitchen to find everyone sitting like they always do, in the exact same positions at the exact same time with the exact same food, without fail. They acknowledge him the same way they always do as he enters the room and he can’t help but grind his teeth when it feels like mocking. So he walks over to the cupboard and starts pulling out plates to smash against the ground.

They’re surprised, worried, taken aback, and as he stands in a sea of broken china he doesn’t care about what they have to think about him. He already knows nothing he does right now will have later consequences, even if it means cutting up his feet like an idiot.

He’ll just have to do better next time.

________________________________

He doesn’t do better. Instead, he gives into the urge to stay in bed all day. No one comes for him and the discussion happens without him, which he knows because he resists the summons to go testify.

Maybe Logan got to be the lawyer this time. That’d be nice, he supposes. ________________________________

The next time he sets fire to his room, just to see what it would feel like to see everything he cares for burn.

(It doesn't feel much like anything, because he already knows it'll be back the next day. He hates it in unspeakable amounts when he's proven right.)

________________________________

The next, he goes over to the other half of the mindscape and steals Janus’ hat, feeling a bit more carefree as the side pursues him around the mindscape and the rest of the day is derailed.

________________________________

The next, he tries to make a cake to celebrate the callback and accidentally burns it. He feels like there's some sort of cosmic irony there.

________________________________

The next, he does nothing but make puns until the others cry in frustration.

________________________________

Next, he goes to the other half of the mindscape again and hangs out with Remus all day, just to check up on him after not seeing him since he took Roman’s place that one time.

Remus tries to attack him several times but Patton is past the point of being afraid of him. At one point he catches the shuriken Remus throws at his head and he finally manages to earn his favour.

They end up having a good time, talking until everything resets again.

________________________________

Next, he kisses everyone on the cheek and apologizes for getting drunk and being mean to them.

(Despite them being reseted versions of themselves and therefore not remembering any of it. He still does it anyway and it still makes him feel slightly better afterwards).

________________________________

Next, he finds the energy to make a genuine effort once again.

This time Logan ducks out. Patton spends the next few loops in mourning.

________________________________

By around the 75th loop, he’s finally had enough. There’s no more fun to be had messing around with these constantly-reseting sides, and he’s so so tired of trying to keep the peace and failing. Nothing he does was working-- in fact it seemed like he was just making things worse based on the amount of times one of the sides had broken down in front of them or tried to duck out or left with undealt with emotions. (There were so many things he had seen that would stick with him for a while, wondering just how close they were to having something similar happen in reality. He couldn't even rest anymore, kept awake by the questions.)

If he were a different side, one more accustomed to problem solving, perhaps he would’ve had a solution by now, but he just doesn’t. It's not how he was meant to operate. So instead of trying to figure it out, he goes to Virgil’s room after breakfast and starts blubbering in front of him until he’s led onto his bed where he's awkwardly consoled.

Virgil, without even knowing why he’s upset, places a comforting hand on his back anyway which sends Patton into even greater sobs. It had been so long since he'd let someone hug him or show him affection- so upset with himself for his failings that he stopped believing that he deserved any of it. This time he just lets it happen because he needs some comfort and if he doesn't get it he doesn't know how he'll be able to continue forward.

The two of them end up moving to a more neutral part of the mindscape as to not make his feelings worse, and he allows himself to indulge in just being held. He's aware of exactly how long they have until the start of the debate, so he milks his time with Virgil for all he's got, until eventually his crying evens out into sniffles, leaving him with tired eyes and a runny nose.

He knows Virgil wants to ask what’s wrong, but he breaks the silence first when he finally manages to calm down.

“Do you know how to get out of a loop?”

He can’t see Virgil’s face from where they’re hugging, but he can tell that he’s at odds with the question.

“You’re asking me, the MVP of spiralling, how to get out of a loop?” Virgil asked unbelievingly.

“Yeah, you’re right- It was stupid.” Patton begins, pulling away before Virgil stops him.

“I didn’t say that.” He says quickly, worriedly. Then he goes quiet in deliberate thought. “...You have to rely on the people around you to get out of it, I guess.”

When Patton makes a questioning noise, he continues.

“I mean… Sometimes it’s all you can do, y’know? You’re always gonna be biased when you’re living in your own head, and if you’re struggling to get through something yourself... the best thing to do is ask for help. Get a different viewpoint.”

"Sounds scary." Patton laughs wetly. Virgil joins him, sounding relieved.

"Yeah. It's definitely not as easy as it sounds. Being vunerable and reaching out to people, that is."

"...How do you manage?"

"Well..." Virgil pulls back a little. "I don't always. But you just have to trust that it'll be worth it in the end. And it usually is."

After a moment of thinking that over, Patton draws back fully and stares at him. Virgil meets his eyes with barely-veiled worry as he continues. “So… If you’re dealing with something, you can always tell us. You should know by now that you don't have to deal with everything alone, popstar.”

Patton can't meet his gaze any longer when his eyes heat up once more. "...I just want to be there for all of you," He finally admits in a small voice. "It's my one goal, and I feel like I only let you down. I can't expect you to carry my problems with you, on top of that."

Virgil's frown deepens. "It's not us carrying a burden for you, Pat. It's sharing the load equally so you don't fall under the pressure." His hand found Patton's back again, rubbing small circles. "If you feel like you have to be the one to fix everything all the time, then maybe we failed you as friends."

Once again, the dam broke, and Patton sincerely did not know what to say to that. Virgil pulled him back to his side, letting Patton rest his head on his shoulder as he let out his second round of tears for the day. They were spending too much time talking about his issues, he realized as the video started once more, but Virgil didn't make any move to leave his side, and for the nth time that day, he was incredibly greatful to him.

Something about their conversation clicked in his brain, and it was like he knew exactly what he needed to do. When he was finally ready to let go of this day, he gave Virgil one last hug and thanked him for his advice. He then sunk out back to his room and fell into bed, waiting for the cycle to start over again.

Perhaps he had known all along what he would have to do to end this, and Virgil had given him the final shove.

Either way, he so was ready for it to be over.

________________________________

On the final loop, Patton decided to follow Virgil’s advice.

He goes back to acting as normal-- eating breakfast, getting the call, rising up, reminding them about the wedding-- and this time he doesn’t do anything especially different.

Unlike his previous attempts where he tried to change his tune, tried to see through every possibility, tried to stop arguments before they started; he instead tries to do everything the same way the original debate had gone, to be the best of his memory.

He didn’t falter when he said things he now knew to be insensitive, he didn’t hold back on disagreeing with the others, or insert himself into problems that weren’t his to help with yet. He watched as the cracks formed between each side, watched the gavel swing down, watched every other side sink out after shooing Janus away.

And he knew it would be just fine.

He looked into Thomas’ eyes and felt nothing but pride. Just like the real thing, this one looked uncertain, but was briefly relieved by the conclusion they came to, putting his trust in Patton as he reassured him in his decision. He knew that by choosing this route he was accepting the heartbreak that would come later, but he accepted that. He understood now that hiding in fantasies of getting everything perfect was counterproductive and unrealistic. He knew it was time to go back.

As he sunk out to his room for the final time, he realized that if this exercise taught him anything, it was that above making the right choices, above having the right things to say to fix everyone’s problems, all he needed, all along…

Was patience.

________________________________

Patton opened his eyes to the sight of dim spotlights overhead. With a loud dad grunt he was glad no one else was around to hear, he rolled over to sit on the edge of the stage, looking out to the seat in the crowd he had once been impersonated at.

He took in the room once last time before the lights continued to dim, which he instinctually knew to be the mind’s way of telling him to leave. He was ready for it; so he did.

Hopping off of the stage, he walked between the aisles towards the exit, pushing the doors open to be greeted with the familiar space of the mindscape. He stood there for a second, letting his eyes adjust from the darkness of the theatre as his memory slowly returned to him-- compressing the months he had just gone through until he could remember why he had come here in the first place.

“So.” He heard a familiar voice come from next to him as he regained his bearings. “Are you satisfied with what you found?”

“...Yeah.” Patton said softly, turning to smile at the figure.

“And?”

“I didn’t need to change anything in the end.”

There was a sharp exhale, barely a scoff. “Well, I could’ve told you that, and it would’ve saved you a lot of hassle.”

“You could have.” Patton agreed. “...But it was helpful seeing all the way things could have been different, too.”

His eyes fell to the ground, recalling the different outcomes that were wildly different and much much worse than their current situation. It made him grateful for the way everything had turned out-- imperfect but not broken-- and made everything seem so much less bleak than how he first thought it to be. When he was so lost that he had chosen to relive that day for the sake of getting peace.

“Oh? And what exactly happened in there?”

“A lot. One time I stole your hat. You got so mad that you started hissing.” Patton’s smile widened at one of the better memories, even more so when his friend grumbled.

“Wow. I’m so glad the hour I spent out here waiting was used productively.” Janus sighed, pulling his hat down subconsciously. “...I am glad that it helped, though.”

“I am too.” Patton hummed. “Are you ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

Janus finally returned his smile and Patton brightened up. They weren't yet confident that they could fix everything that had happened between the sides, they didn’t even know if it was possible for them to do so alone, but they were at least willing to take that step forward and offer a helping hand.

And that's all that matters, right? No matter how many times they were let down or faced an obstacle, they just kept getting up to try to be better. It didn't matter if things weren't alright again right away; sometimes earning forgiveness meant trusting the other person to come back to you eventually. Waiting for that opportunity to glue back the pieces together.

And if Patton was certain about anything, it was that he was more than prepared to wait.

________________________________

Tags: @nasatshirts @quinnthequeer @mayflowers07 @overlad-of-the-snakes @varthandi @foxxsong @omnicrex @nadiestar @mistythegirlfluxmess @greenninjagal-blog @hit-or-mish @slytherin-halfblood @i-need-a-life-8903 @lemonlinelights @logicaemetus @bluestarfan10 @marshmallow-fluffy @enby-phoenix @arrestjellyfish @its-the-usda-certified-trashman @impatentpending @killjoy-3000 @nonasficcollection @mhep24601 @atomic-cat-dragon @puffydove @qrowdraws-notforyouthough @randommuffinyt @bubblycricket @theactual-devil @viana-dascolli @modsnow

[nerdypanda3126]

Paper Anniversary

Happy anniversary to the @lovebugs-and-snakecharmers Sprint Fic Challenge!

The rules are three 15-minute sprints with 24 hours for light editing, including adding more writing to smooth transitions. On this one I took 4 sprints and kinda freehanded from there to get to the ending.

And the prompt I used was: Anniversary

Read on Ao3

Marinette woke up only slightly disappointed that Luka wasn’t there next to her. 

Well, maybe more than slightly. It was their first anniversary, after all, and part of her had hoped he’d pull some crazy stunt to get home in time but—

It was fine. Really. There’d be plenty of other anniversaries when he wasn’t out there making a name for himself. 

She sighed as she rolled over to grab his pillow, intending to snuggle it and hoping that his scent was still lingering on it, but something crinkled under her hand and she was instantly more awake. When she sat up and looked she was holding a slightly crumpled paper crane with what looked like Luka’s handwriting on the wings. But how…?

 Her head snapped up to swivel around the room. It was definitely still empty, and when she wandered through the apartment it was still empty, too. A smile started to creep across her face as she gently pried the crane open to reveal his note. 

Good morning, gorgeous. Happy anniversary. Did you know the first wedding anniversary is traditionally the paper anniversary? There’s plenty more surprises in store today, so get up and get ready and you’ll find the next one waiting for you in the closet. All my love, Luka

The closet? But there wasn’t anything there last night… 

In a daze, she walked back to their closet and opened it to find a delicately folded flower on top of a neatly folded pink dress. Scarcely believing it, she picked up the lotus flower and admired the skill it was made with before she unfolded it. 

Couldn’t wait, huh? The note read. She could almost hear his self-satisfied smirk within the words. I’m glad you’re excited but I know you’ll want to look your best today. Get ready and get dressed, love, your next clue is on the way. Love, Luka

Next clue? 

How on earth had he managed to set this up? He was halfway across the world by now touring with Jagged and he’d apologized to her—repeatedly—that he couldn’t make it back. She’d assured him it was fine and she understood, which she did. She really did. But then how were these notes appearing like this? Maybe—

Maybe she shouldn’t think about how a Couffaine was accomplishing something like this and do as his note read. 

So she did. And she had just slipped on the dress he’d apparently picked out for her and hadn’t even had time to admire the black flowers embroidered around the waist of the gauzy pink fabric before her doorbell rang.

When she opened the door she found a delivery person from her favorite café holding a to-go cup of coffee and a bag. Breakfast. Luka had gotten her breakfast. She could only gape at the poor man trying to transfer everything into her hands. 

“Oh, and this,” he said then, drawing an origami box out of his apron pocket that was unmistakably another of Luka’s notes. He smiled and waved before he turned and left her alone to open it. 

Somehow she managed to sit at their table before opening the paper box. Inside was a plastic-wrapped chocolate truffle, but no note. At least there wasn’t until she checked the inside of the lid she was still holding. 

I have to admit I cheated on this one a bit. But I wanted to make sure you had your favorite breakfast today, plus a little something sweet. When you’ve finished eating (and please eat, my beautiful melody) go to your parents’ house and tell them ‘hi’ from me. Love, Luka 

Her smile was going to be permanently stuck on her face after this, she could feel it. As she ate and sipped her coffee, barely registering what it tasted like although it was definitely all of her favorites, she felt almost like he was sitting across from her. He’d be sipping his own coffee and glancing up at her now and then, smiling like he always did when she was eating something she enjoyed. Apparently she had a happy dance, although she’d never noticed doing it. He always did, though. 

That was probably the point of this, she realized as she reached across to touch his empty spot. He couldn’t be here, but he wanted to make sure she knew he was thinking of her, wherever he was. 

When she’d finished and made her way to the bakery, her dad nearly broke the door bursting through it to greet her with a bear hug. Her mom came out a moment later smiling and holding a bouquet and a note folded into a heart. Marinette barely registered the sweet smelling flowers before she was tearing into the note. 

Remember our wedding day? You had plum blossoms in your bouquet for your mom and roses for your dad. And baby’s breath for the future, but we’ll get there eventually, love. There’s one more stop today and then I want you to enjoy the day however makes you happiest. You remember where I proposed? All my love, Luka

She looked up at her parents and they were both grinning. Although her dad was barely holding back happy tears. It reminded her so strongly of the day he walked her down the aisle that she stretched up to press a quick kiss to his cheek before she hugged them both and turned to run for the bridge, her heart pounding, scarcely daring to hope that maybe the last stop, the last surprise, would be her husband waiting for her to wrap her arms around him. 

But when she got there, out of breath from the run, the flowers on her arm shaken within an inch of their life, no one was there. The water lapped gently against the embankments and reflected off the underside of the bridge. It was so quiet, and that’s why Luka liked it there. It was his favorite place and when he’d proposed, he’d told her that he’d found a new favorite place by her side. That he wanted to be next to her for the rest of his life if she’d let him. 

He said where he’d proposed. There couldn’t possibly be anywhere else—

She gasped when she realized what he meant. Not his official proposal, but the first time he’d told her he’d be happy spending his life with her. A grin stretched across her face before she could stop it. With everything but a ring he’d offered everything he had and she’d kissed him until she couldn’t breathe anymore. 

She made her way—slower this time—towards the tree they’d sat under that day. As she did, it all came back to her. How calm and beautiful it had been that day, with a bright blue sky and big fluffy clouds floating by on the breeze. How they’d been lying side by side on their blanket with her head on his shoulder as they pointed out shapes to each other. And how, out of nowhere, he’d turned those eyes on her, as blue as the sky above, so serious, so soft, and told her he wanted this. Just this. With her. For the rest of his life. 

As she neared the tree, she didn’t know what to expect and she didn’t want to get her hopes up. But there was a blanket laid out under the tree and a picnic basket. And leaning against the tree was a familiar tall figure. A figure that shrugged off the tree and stood at attention as soon as she came into view. An unmistakable figure with a shock of blue hair stuck up in all the familiar ways. 

She was running again before she knew it. The flowers were dropped on the blanket as she flew into Luka’s waiting arms. He was laughing as he hugged her back just as tightly and pressed a kiss to her hair. 

“Surprise,” he said quietly, although his voice still rumbled through his chest. She pulled away to look at him, only to bury her face in his shoulder again. He smelled like the stale air of an airplane and hotel soap. But underneath that was his smell. Something she would never be able to describe but would be able to identify in a heartbeat. 

When she had finally convinced herself he was real, she pulled away again and swatted his shoulder. “You jerk! I thought you weren’t coming!” 

“I wasn’t,” he admitted, still laughing as he pretended to cringe away from her hands. “I had it all set up to take care of you while I was gone, and then Penny pulled some strings and, well, long story short, we have a few hours to kill before I have to get back on another plane.” 

He gestured to his set up, and for the first time she noticed a branch of plum blossoms laid on top of the picnic basket. Out of all his origami designs she’d seen that day, this was by far the most elaborate. She bent down to pick it up and examine it more closely, taking his hand as she did and imagining his long fingers making the delicate folds. 

"Show me," she said, pushing it into his hands. He seemed stunned for a moment and let out a disbelieving laugh. 

"We only have a few hours together on our anniversary and you want me to teach you origami?" 

"You're the one who got me all dressed up and brought me somewhere public," she teased him back, stretching to press a kiss to his cheek. She stayed there and tugged him down to whisper in his ear. "And I've been thinking about your hands all day." As she pulled away, she raised her eyebrows suggestively and took an expectant seat next to the picnic basket. 

"Please show me?" 

He relaxed as understanding dawned on him and he smiled as he took a seat close to her, already unfolding the paper so he could show her how it worked. And as she curled her hand around his arm and leaned her head on his shoulder, listening to his voice and watching his movements, she couldn't help but sigh in absolute contentment.

Just like he’d said that day. All she wanted was this, with him, for the rest of her life, too. And as she looked down at the rings glinting on both of their hands, she couldn’t be happier that this was the first of what she hoped were many anniversaries to come.

[newtonsheffield]

I feel a little bad because I sent so many of these... but also thank youuu for goose, that was incredible, whoever is the love interest of edwina is s2 better live up to that 👏🏼👏🏼 I would loooove to see some Edwina/Matthew fluff, they are so CUTE, if I don’t meet a cute man at next time I am at the museum I will be very disappointed. also Francesca and Michael next week?? cannot wait!! thank you thank you thank you

Whyever would you feel bad? I obviously don’t know exactly which messages are yours butI loveeeee getting messages! And I’m very lucky that I currently have 95 of them sitting here! I know! I’m terrible but I’m getting there!  

Oh Edwina’s love interest has a lot to live up to in my mind because Matthew Goose Bagwell is a very special man who makes his own Jam because Mary said she wanted to make Bakewell tarts. And who tags along to Edwina’s functions and had absolutely no idea who Simon Basset was when he met him because he doesn’t follow football. But who went bright red when he met Francesca Bridgerton because he is an avid Kilmartin fan. For the historical accuracy of course. Edwina privately asked Francesca if she and Michael would sign Matthew’s Kilmartin blurays which of course Frankie did with a bemused little smile. Anyway Matthew Goose Bagwell is a gem whom I love and adore and he and Edwina deserve to be so happy. 

I’m VERY excited to be writing Michael and Francesca’s story this week! Which! I’m very excited to announce will be called Dangerous! Oooooo!

Anyway! Let’s check in with Edwina and Matthew and Umm... Meeting the parents?

Edwina Sheffield was not a person who got nervous very often. She gave interviews and met people, and smiled, and it took a certain amount of confidence to let your picture be printed on a billboard in the busiest section of London, and yet here she sat, in the passenger seat of Matthew’s car nerves clawing at her stomach. Matthew had sat at her kitchen table a week ago nervously adjusting his glasses, clearly considering his words carefully.

“I really like your sister.” He said gently, and Edwina had raised her eyebrows, surprised by the odd turn. “Though her husband is a little... scary.” He’d finished, swallowing nervously. Edwina felt her brow furrow. “I’m glad. Kate’s my favourite person. We were really close growing up. Still are. And don’t worry about Anthony. He honestly didn’t even like Kate at first, or he at least pretended not to, and you’ve seen them now.” She’d said chuckling quietly, and Matthew had smiled, and then taken a deep breath, his question coming out in a hurried breath. “Umm... Eddie I’d really like it if you met my Mum.” And Edwina had stilled, a slice of toast halfway to her mouth, her mind racing. It was a natural progression of their relationship, this was how relationships were supposed to work, she knew, two people slowly intertwining their lives. But she’d never done it, all of her previous boyfriends keeping her at arms length. Even after months and months. And yet here Matthew was, barely a month in, holding out a piece of string, asking her to take it. “i’d like that as well.” 

“There’s no need to be nervous, She’s really excited to meet you.” 

Matt said, smiling his little crooked smile that always made her heart beat a little faster. Edwina forced herself to nod, her hands clutching the flowers she’d brought a little desperately, her knuckles turning white. Because she knew Matthew was wrong. There was plenty to worry about. Would Mrs Bagwell think she was a vapid, self obsessed woman? Plenty of people assumed she was. Would she think she wasn’t good enough for her son? She probably wasn’t. She’d been thinking about it all week, playing the possibilities over and over in her head until they’d come spilling out of her when she’d called Kate last night in a near panic. 

“Eddie, come on, Matthew’s mum is going to love you!” Kate said gently, and in her panic Edwina had scoffed. “That’s easy for you to say, Anthony’s Mum adores you.” Kate had hummed contentedly. “Violet and I do get along well, because I make Anthony happy. And I know you make Matthew happy, I saw it last week. You’re amazing just as you are, Just be yourself.”  “Thank you, Kate. Just be yourself? Are you feeding Edmund this terrible advice?” Edwina had said snappishly. Kate had hung up the phone with a snappish For Fuck’s sake 3 seconds later. 

“Here we are!” Matthew said pulling the car to the curb, kissing her cheek before he slid from the car. Nerves twisted Edwina’s stomach as he opened her door, her hand clutching his desperately as they walked up the drive, his thumb rubbing slow circles into her hand. They’d barely taken three steps before the front door burst open. “Matty! There you are!” A small woman called, leaping forward and wrapping Matthew tightly in a hug, motherly affection shining from her as she pulled back patting his cheek affectionately, smoothing his hair with a warm smile on her face. “Oh you look skinny Little Goose.” She said tutting as Matthew blushed. The sight made Edwina’s heart flutter happily. A surge of affection for her boyfriend who said

“Mum, Please!” A little embarrassedly, his eyes flicking to Edwina who had to bite her lip to keep from laughing. Mrs. Bagwell’s eyes followed his, and her smile widened impossibly more and Edwina was temporarily startled by the similarity between Matthew and his Mum, the same kindness radiating from them. “Mum, This is Edwina.” Matthew said Smiling proudly as he continued “Eddie, This is my Mum!” Edwina took a deep breath and held her hand out. “Mrs. Bagwell it’s so lovely to meet you.” She said, smiling as naturally as she could manage. And Before she could react Mrs. Bagwell had leapt forward, wrapping her arms tightly around her. Warmth flooding through her chest. 

“Just Judy is fine, sweetheart.” She said pulling back, Her eyes flicking over Edwina. “My goodness you are even more beautiful in person.” She said, her eyes a little alarmed as she tugged Edwina into the house, leaving Matthew smiling happily on the driveway.  “It’s a little startling actually. Goodness, that smile. No wonder my Matty’s so taken with you.” She said, forcing Edwina down on the sofa in the living room, and Edwina felt her cheeks burning.  “Oh, umm..” She started, unsure what to do as Matthew settled beside her, his arm around her waist still grinning happily. Judy shook her head. “Oh no, I don’t mean anything by it, never mind me. How do you take your tea sweetheart?” She said looking back at Edwina expectantly as she left the room, Edwina’s mind racing to catch up with the startling turn. “Oh umm Black, Please. If it’s not too much trouble, No let me help you!” She said trying to stand but Judy shook her head disappearing down the hall. 

��She likes you.” Matthew said his lips brushing her cheek softly. Edwina stared down at the flowers still in her hands a little stunned.  “I’m not sure how you can tell.” She whispered back a little urgently. Matthew hummed  “She knows how happy you make me, that’s all she wants.” And Edwina felt her heart stutter, a surge of something she was growing more suspicious every day was something a little stronger. Their gazes getting tangled together for a second.  Judy bustled  back into the room, the sound of a kettle whirring in the background.  “Now I made this for you, I thought it would look lovely with your colouring.” She said brightly, thrusting a Small package at Edwina who looked around a little helplessly still holding the flowers. “Oh are those for me? You’re sweet.” She said before Edwina could stutter out that they were, “There’s no need to be nervous dear, I can see how happy you make my little Goose. Now Open your gift.” She said dismissively, taking the flowers and gesturing to the gift. 

Edwina looked down at it nervously, her fingers shaking slightly as she unwrapped an emerald green scarf, a tiny goose embroidered in flight. Edwina felt tears prick at her eyes. Silence engulfing the room. “You don’t have to wear it of course but-” Judy started but Edwina cut her off “Mrs. Bagwell, I love it.” She said wrapping the ends of the scarf around her neck. Judy smile happily, satisfied. Edwina felt Matthew’s arm nudge hers  “Now we match. What a pair hey?” He said, his eyes shining happily behind his glasses. And Edwina felt her breath catch  “Yeah, What a pair.” 

I’m very sorry, this got away from me!      

[be11atrixthestrange]

A Gift To Remember

Here’s a little Jily drabble I wrote for The House Competition. 

Prompt: [Object]: Remembrall

----------------------------

"Happy birthday Lily. Here's a gift you'll never forget!"

James beamed as he handed Lily a small gift-wrapped box, and for a brief moment, her heart dropped into her stomach. Even though they'd been dating for a few years, they were still far too young for a mysterious palm-sized parcel. Weren't they?

She narrowed her eyes at James to scour for intel before she opened his gift. It's not like they were alone — they were in the Leaky Cauldron for Merlin's sake. James made no attempt to hide his excitement; his toothy smile stretched across his face and his eyes twinkled as he bounced impatiently on his feet.

"Open it!"

"Okay, okay!" she said, now acutely aware of many curious eyes on her as she tugged at the strings to unravel James' birthday gift. James wouldn't give her a ring, would he? Not in public...

No, that's exactly what he'd do.

She turned her gaze back to her hands, tearing away at the tissue paper, which was now patchy with fingerprints from her sweating palms. It's not that she didn't want him to buy her a ring — she just hadn't really thought about it.

No, you have definitely thought about it, she internally corrected herself. You think about it all the time.

As she removed the last of the paper, she realized it hadn't crossed her mind to prepare a response; she didn't need to. She already knew what she'd say, hypothetically, of course.

Finally, rid of the wrapping, she popped open the top of the box with trembling fingers. Inside was a miniature crystal ball filled with red mist. It was no bigger than a ring box. She released the breath she didn't know she was holding, convincing herself it was due to relief rather than disappointment, but the knots forming in her stomach suggested otherwise.

"What is it?" she asked.

"A remembrall!" said James excitedly.

Lily raised her eyebrows, silently asking him to explain.

"It turns red whenever you've forgotten something."

She glanced at the remembrall, still swirling with what appeared to be red smoke. "What have I forgotten now?"

"I don't know!"

"Oh," said Lily. "Well, thank you, James."

The gleaming red remembrall sent Lily's brain into overdrive. What could she have forgotten? Was it important? Why didn't it tell her what she'd forgotten? And why wasn't it a ring?

Her eyebrows knit together in concentration and James sniggered.

"What's so funny?" she asked, her voice sounding more shrill than anticipated. Relax, Lily. You weren't expecting him to propose, and this is a fine birthday gift...

"You look cute when you're stressed. I can't wait to see you get all flustered when you try to remember what you've forgotten." James was still wearing his giddy grin, and Lily couldn't help but smile back.

She studied the glass ball in her hand, suddenly brimming with affection for it. It's okay that it wasn't a ring. It was such a James gift. "Well, I love it. Thank you."

"And I love you!" He leaned forward and kissed her on the nose. A rosy warmth filled Lily's cheeks, temporarily easing her anxiety about whatever it was she couldn't remember.

x

"It's still red," said Lily, tossing her purse onto a chair as soon as they arrived back at their flat. "Why?"

"Great gift, isn't it?" said James, tugging her into a hug. "It's going to drive you mad!"

"Hilarious," said Lily as she softened into his embrace. "And you're right, it's making me crazy.

James pulled away and met her gaze. "You really can't figure out what you've forgotten?"

'No, why?"

"Because I know."

Lily's eyes narrowed. "What is it?"

"I'll give you a hint. Today is a very special anniversary."

Lily scoffed. "Yeah… my birthday!"

James laughed, guiding her back into an embrace. "Something else happened on your birthday."

"It did?" she asked, her voice now muffled against James' shoulder. "Which one?"

"Fifteenth."

Lily froze, a grin forming on her lips. Her fifteenth birthday. The party in the Gryffindor common room. The smuggled Butterbeer, the loud music, that fateful game of truth or dare.

"James, truth or dare?"

"Dare, of course."

"I dare you to ask someone on a date right now."

Lily remembered rolling her eyes when James turned to her. "Wanna go out with me?"

She recalled the laughter when she answered him honestly, "Not in a million years, James!"

But most of all, she could clearly imagine his expression, his determination. He was completely unfazed by her rejection, and years later, he still wore his optimism like a badge of pride.

"You asked me out,"said Lily, nuzzling into James' shirt.

"Ding ding ding!" smiled James. "For the first time!"

"I said no," she said.

"Which was a terrible mistake. You're lucky I gave you another chance."

"You're not wrong," she said. "You gave me many chances."

James took a step back and locked eyes with her. Ever so briefly, his confidence vanished from his face. "So we can agree that saying no was a bad idea, right?"

Lily opened her mouth to speak but couldn't answer before James crouched down to one knee, his hands moving to hers. "James—"

"Your remembrall should be clear now," he said, his signature grin returning.

Unlinking their fingers, she reached into her pocket for the glass orb. James was right — it was clear. But it wasn't empty.

"You thought I'd only get you a remembrall for your birthday?"

"Well, yes," said Lily, her eyes watering at the sparkling solitaire ring at the center, no longer obscured by red smoke. "But this is so much better."

James beamed. "Lily Evans, will you—"

He never finished his question because Lily launched herself into James' arms and pressed her lips to his. There was no need to answer; he had to know it was a resounding 'yes'. After all, 'no' would have been a terrible mistake.

[eliemo]

Blood and Stars

Summary: Sometimes, Virgil doesn't know what to do without the pain. That doesn’t mean he ever wanted it in the first place. 

TW: Talks about self harm. Nothing too graphic, but please be safe. 

Masterpost

Taglist: @self-taught-mess @itawalrus @mygenderisidiot @a-very-gay-raccoon @dawnfire7 @cr4zyart @ray-does-stuff @whydoifeeltheneedtoorganizestuff @bunny222  @the-blue-recluse @bisexualdisaster106 (let me know if you want to be added or if I missed you)

Patton never would have brought it up again on his own.

He’d caught a glimpse of a nasty looking scratch along Virgil’s forearm while the two of them were doing the dishes after dinner. It didn’t look too deep- long, thin, and horizontal just beneath his wrist, but it didn’t look particularly pleasant.

“What happened there?” he asked, when they’d finished the dishes, not missing the way Virgil’s shoulders tensed as he quickly pulled his hoodie sleeves back down.

He hesitated, still tugging at the ends of his sleeves as he stared down at the sink, and Patton reminded himself not to push.

“I- I broke a mug,” Virgil muttered after a moment. “One of Logan’s glass ones. It was on the edge of the table and I, uh, bumped it. Accidentally cut myself on the glass when I was cleaning it up.”

“Oh, I’m sorry kiddo.” Patton was careful to keep his voice light, conversational, despite how badly he wanted to squeal with pride and pull Virgil into a bone crushing hug.

He was obviously nervous about this, about openly admitting a mistake and not immediately expecting screams or punches, but he was doing it.

“It’s fixed though,” Virgil added. “Or I...I asked Roman to fix it. No one was angry.”

“Of course not,” Patton said gently. “Accidents happen. And I’m proud of you for getting help.”

Virgil ducked his head, flashing Patton a tentative smile from behind his bangs, but the moral side noticed how he rubbed absently at the scratch on his arm.

“You got that cut all cleaned up, right?” he asked. “We don’t want it to get infected.”

Virgil blinked, staring blankly for just a second like he had no clue what Patton was talking about. It only lasted a moment, realization visibly dawning, and he pulled his sleeve all the way over his hand.

“Oh! Yeah, uh, I did. It’s fine, Pat. I’m all good.”

Patton didn’t want to risk stressing him out or sending him into a string of apologies for a mistake he hadn’t made, so he just smiled, squeezed his uncovered hand, and dropped the subject.

That had been a little over two days ago, and Patton honestly hadn’t given it a second thought. He’d confirmed the events with Roman that same day, both of them happy with Virgil’s progress, but other than that it hadn’t crossed his mind.

It was almost ten when there was a knock on Patton’s door, just after he’d changed into pajamas for the night, the sound small and hesitant.

Somehow, he wasn’t surprised to find it was Virgil on the other side of the door, arms wrapped around himself, hood pulled up over his head.

“Hey kiddo,” Patton said softly. “What’s up?”

Virgil was silent for a moment, eyes glued to the ground, and Patton realized he was shaking. “I, uh- s-sorry I know it’s late I just...I think I need to talk to you about something.”

There was something about his voice, how scared and hesitant it sounded, like he’d done everything in his power to convince himself to knock on Patton’s door tonight.

“Alright,” he said. “Do you want to go into the living room? I know my room isn’t always the best place for you.”

Virgil nodded, stepping aside to let Patton into the hall, the two sides making their way downstairs in heavy silence.

The anxious side went straight to the couch while Patton made a quick detour into the kitchen to get them both some tea, hoping a hot drink would help to calm both their nerves.

But it was another five minutes before Virgil worked up the courage to speak, sitting silently beside Patton, staring blankly into the steaming mug, stiff and unmoving.

“I lied to you,” Virgil said softly. “I’m sorry.”

Patton frowned, taking in Virgil’s hunched and trembling shoulders, and forcefully pushed down his own uneasiness. “Well, I’m sure you had a good reason, kiddo. Can you tell me what’s wrong?”

“The cut on my arm,” Virgil said quickly, squeezing his eyes shut when Patton went very still. “I- I didn’t...it wasn’t an accident. I did it to myself.”

Patton’s breath caught, something heavy in his chest growing to a suffocating weight. He swallowed, turning the words over in his head, carefully setting his mug down on the coffee table.

He knew he should say something comforting, offer Virgil the reassurance and support he so desperately needed right now, carefully encouraging him to elaborate. But all that came out was a hushed, “Oh.”

Virgil winced at that, curling in on himself, hands shaking around the plastic mug settled against his knee. Patton saw him swallow, breath hitching before he spoke again. “I...I’m sorry.”

“Oh, honey…” he trailed off, suddenly at a loss. What was he supposed to say? That it was ok? It...it wasn’t. “I’m not angry with you, I’m just...how- how much have you--?”

“Just once,” Virgil said quickly, and Patton’s shoulders dropped in relief. “I swear, it was just one time, Patton I promise I didn’t...I- I’m not--”

“I believe you.”

Virgil nodded at that, letting out a shaky breath, trembling hands carefully setting down the mug, still not quite able to look the other side in the eyes.

“I...thought about doing it again,” he admitted. “That’s why I came and got you.”

“That’s good,” Patton said, reaching over to take Virgil’s hand. “That’s really good, Virge. Thank you for coming to me first.”

Virgil shrugged, making no move to look up from his lap. “I was worried about upsetting you. I just...felt too stupid to go to anyone else.”

“It’s not stupid, honey. Not at all.” He took a breath, squeezing the anxious side’s hand, choosing his words carefully. “Can...can you tell me why you did it? Did something happen?”

Virgil shook his head, staring straight ahead at the empty staircase. He was absently rubbing at his sleeve with his free hand, and Patton fought to keep himself from staring, from asking to see just to set his racing mind at ease.

It wasn’t his place. He was here to help, to move at Virgil’s pace.

And then Virgil was digging into his pocket, fiddling with something beneath the cloth. He hesitated for just a moment, before wordlessly reaching out a hand to drop a small object into Patton’s palm.

It was a piece of glass, sharp and jagged around the edges, painted a dark navy blue with tiny white specks that might resemble part of a constellation if it was put back where it belonged.

It was a part of Logan’s mug, the one Virgil had broken, a piece of glass the anxious side must have pocketed before he’d gone to Roman for help.

“Oh, kiddo.”

Virgil suddenly pulled his hand away, wrapping his arms around himself, and Patton felt the loss of contact like a physical ache in his chest.

He didn’t...he had no idea what he was supposed to do in a situation like this. Logan would know, he thought. Logan always knew the best approach when it came to Virgil.

But...but Virgil had gone to him. He’d been scared and confused and he’d gone to Patton first. That had to count for something, right?

“It’s ok,” he whispered, and then immediately winced at his own words. “I mean- I mean it’s not- obviously, but...but I’m not mad. I promise, I just...can you tell me why? Roman said you seemed...fine.”

“I was,” Virgil said, hoarse and unsteady. “I thought I was, but I...I was just staring at the glass and I...I knew it was ok. I knew it was just a mistake and I wasn’t in trouble but...God, Patton before if I had broken something of theirs? I wouldn’t have been able to walk for days.”

Just like he always did when Virgil mentioned how he used to be treated, Patton felt a little breathless, a dangerous type of protective anger fighting its way up to the surface.

But he forcefully pushed it back down, just like he always did. Virgil needed him right now.

“I know.”

“You don’t,” Virgil said. And again, just like always, he didn’t sound angry over his treatment. Just...hurt and resigned. “I’ve barely told you anything, Pat.”

“Kiddo, I…”

“They told me I deserved it,” Virgil continued. “You guys know that. And I...I know I didn’t. I- I know that now but I...I just kept looking at the glass and I- I couldn’t get that stupid little voice out of my head telling me I needed to be punished. That I...I deserved to be hurt for messing up.”

He was wiping furiously at his eyes, tugging at his sleeve despite it being nowhere near high enough for Patton to be able to catch a glimpse of the mark.

“That was how it was. I wouldn’t learn without pain. And if I didn’t learn...it would be worse. I know you guys would never, so I...I did it to myself. Without thinking, I just...hurt myself. Like they would have done.”

Patton ignored his own tears, the panicked beating of his heart, instead reaching out to touch Virgil’s trembling shoulder, freezing when the anxious side flinched away.

“Virgil,” he said softly, cringing at how unsure he sounded. “Nobody should ever be hurt over an accident. You shouldn’t...I’m so sorry you felt like you had to do that to yourself. That- that you wanted--”

“I don’t.” Virgil suddenly whirled to face him, eyes wide and brimming with tears, and he flinched when Patton involuntarily shrank back. “Sorry, I’m...s-sorry. I’m so sorry, Patton just...please don't think that. Please.”

“It’s alright, honey.” Slowly, careful not to make any sudden movements, Patton put the piece of glass on the coffee table and opened his arms in a hopeful invitation.

Virgil crumpled, face falling with so much hurt and shame, slumping forward into Patton’s chest and letting out a breathy, panicked sob.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, desperate, and Patton quickly wrapped his arms around him. “I’m sorry, please don’t- please don’t hate me I don’t--”

“I could never hate you.” He tightened his hold, reaching up to cup the back of Virgil’s head. “Never. Don’t you think for a second that this changes a thing.”

“I’m not gonna do it again,” Virgil added, voice muffled from Patton’s shirt and the sobs they were both fighting to hold back. “I sw- I swear I’m...I won’t. I don’t want to.”

“I trust you,” Patton said, and he could only silently hope it was the right thing to say. “And we’ll be right here to help make sure you don’t. Just like we’ve always been.”

Virgil didn’t speak again, not for another few moments, the two of them huddled on the couch, trembling and wrapped up in each other.

When he held Virgil in his arms, sometimes Patton could only picture how life had used to be for him. Always terrified, always hurting, surrounded only by hatred and cruelty.

Had Patton been the first person to ever hold him? Before he came to them, had there ever been a time he was shown even a shred of kindness?

“I didn’t deserve it.”

It was so quiet, so small and sudden, for a second Patton thought he’d imagined it. But then the words registered, and he pulled back slightly to look down at the side in his arms. Virgil didn’t look up, didn’t move from where he lay against Patton’s chest.

“Kiddo?”

“I didn’t deserve it.” It was more forceful this time, and Patton felt Virgil tighten his frantic grip. “I hated it and they knew that and they still... why? It’s been months and I can’t stop and they knew...I don’t understand. What did I do? Why would someone...why did they hate me enough to do this? I can’t...I can't get better and I can’t stop. I thought- I thought I was and then I did this.”

Patton pulled off his glasses and set them aside, leaning forward to press a kiss to Virgil’s hair before shakily answering. “You didn’t do anything, honey. Some people are just...misguided. They’re the parts of Thomas he would never embrace. It wasn’t your fault. You were...you were just trapped.”

Trapped was putting it lightly. Beaten, threatened, and gaslit were more accurate, but Virgil always felt uneasy using those terms.

As much as Patton hated this, hated seeing Virgil in so much pain...this was the first time he’d ever really acknowledged that what happened had been unfair. That he’d deserved better.

But he couldn’t really find it in himself to dwell on that when Virgil was crying into his shirt again, trembling and gasping and so clearly ashamed.

“I owe you guys everything,” Virgil managed. “I didn’t think it- it could ever stop and then it did. You- you said you would never hurt me and you didn’t, and I just...thank you. You don’t know how much I wanted this.”  

Patton’s throat felt tight icy dread and warm love fighting for dominance, hatred for the people who had left Virgil damaged (not broken, he reminded himself- just bruised. He was getting so much better even if Virgil couldn’t see it himself) settling deep in his gut.

He shoved it aside, and held Virgil tighter, letting him cry it out.

“You don’t need to thank us,” he said. “Loving you isn’t a chore, Virgil. You don’t ever need to feel like you owe us for being kind.”

“But nobody else ever was! Nobody...I- I know you always say it wasn’t my fault but...but they all hated me. What if...what if I did something wrong?”

“You didn’t.” They’d been over this before, but Patton would say it over and over again if he had to. “Nothing could warrant the treatment you got, Virge. You know that.”

“I...y-yeah, but--”

“And you don’t deserve to be hurting yourself now,” Patton continued. “Honey, I need you to promise me that if you feel...the urge to do that again, you’ll go and get someone, ok?”

Virgil nodded, breathing still erratic but gradually slowing. “Ok.”

“Promise me, kiddo. I can’t...the thought of you doing that, I just...come talk to us first, ok? Me, Logan, and Roman are always here. Even Janus and Remus if you can’t find us!”

“I will,” Virgil croaked, giving a watery smile when Patton ran a careful hand through his hair. “I promise.”

“Thank you.”

“And I’m…” Virgil hesitated, like he was carefully considering his next words. “I’m sorry. I- I know you’ll tell me not to be but...I’m really sorry. For doing that. For putting you through this.”

Patton shook his head, feeling his tears slide down his neck and soak into the collar of his shirt. “I just want you to feel safe, kiddo. That’s what we all want. More than anything.”

Virgil nodded, slowly extracting one arm from where it was pressed in between the back of the couch and Patton’s side, swiping at the tears still streaming down his face.

“I’m trying,” he said. “I am. I promise, I’m trying so hard.”

“We know. We all know, Virgil. We see it, even when you don’t. And we’re so, so proud of you.”

For a second, Virgil looked uneasy, like he wasn’t quite sure if Patton was telling the truth or not. But it didn’t last long, shoulders dropping as he offered a small smile and nod.

“Thank you. For...for everything.”

Neither of them were in much of a hurry to move, but it wasn’t long before Virgil’s eyelids began to droop, the anxious side swaying slightly where he sat, and Patton managed to lead him upstairs to his room and into bed.

He stayed in Virgil’s room, humming softly until he gradually drifted off to sleep. It only took a few moments, Virgil having quickly exhausted himself tonight.

Patton wondered how long it had taken him to work up the courage to ask for help tonight. He wondered what would have happened if he hadn’t.

That was...not a possibility he was comfortable thinking about right now.

But he’d promised he wouldn’t do it anymore. He would reach out first if it got to that point again, and he had plenty of people willing to help.

Virgil trusted Patton, and after what he’d been through the anxious side’s trust was a difficult thing to earn.

The least Patton could do was trust Virgil to keep a promise.

[kanerallels]

My Heart Is In Your Hands

(For Kanera Week, based on the prompt "ultimate OTP moment/night out")

Read on AO3 here!

@kaneraweek

Word Count: 5,250

Tags/Warnings: rated G

Summary: The Jedi throw an engagement party that Kanan and Hera in particular find very... engaging

Hera couldn’t believe how fast the next two weeks slipped by. Maybe it was because of all the work that needed to be done in preparation-- many of the guests invited were Imperial, so they had to make sure there were no signs of Mace, Depa and Kanan’s work with the Rebellion. There was also a lot of cleaning, cooking and various preparations to be done in general. Hera and Kanan had their own way to get ready, going over their story repeatedly to make sure they didn’t forget it, memorizing key details and producing answers for any possible questions that could be asked.

Of course, there was also the fact that Hera had started working with the cell on Lothal, alongside Kanan. She was usually the getaway pilot, but she’d gone on a couple of actual ops as well. After the first mission, Kanan relaxed significantly about her being out in the field, although Hera still wasn’t sure why he’d gotten so jumpy. She didn’t have much time to think about it, though.

Most of the guests would be arriving the day of the party, but a few arrived a couple days before. Kanan and Hera went down to meet some of them at the front door, the first of which was a tall Kalleran. The moment the Kalleran spotted Kanan he all but crushed him in a hug. “Kid! Since when are you getting married?”

“Kriff, Kasmir-- can’t breathe-- Kanan gasped.

Releasing him, the Kalleran turned to Hera and gave her a gentlemanly bow. “Janus Kasmir at your service. A pleasure to meet the young woman who caught Kanan’s heart. I have to know everything. How’d you two meet?”

“Believe it or not, it was only a month or two ago,” Hera said, slipping her arm through Kanan’s. “I was having… a little trouble with a street gang, and Kanan stepped in to give me a hand. By which I mean he handled one of them, and I took out the rest.”

“Give me a little credit,” Kanan protested. “I handled at least two.”

“Uh-huh. Sure, dear,” Hera said, unable to prevent the smile crossing her face at Kanan’s fake chagrin.

Chuckling, Kasmir said, “She’s good for you, kid. I like her.”

“Don’t call me kid,” Kanan grumbled. “But I like her, too.”

“I should hope so, you are marrying her,” Kasmir said with a dramatic roll of his eyes. “Excuse me, I’m gonna go say hi to your Jedi mom and your kid who’s cooler than you.”

As the Kalleran strode into the house, Hera turned to Kanan, trying not to laugh. “So, he’s… interesting. I like him, I will say.”

“I can’t imagine why,” Kanan said with some drama, and Hera smirked.

“Well, I kept you around, didn’t I?”

The next guest was an older man, mostly bald with a fringe of white hair, and a white beard. Directing a warm smile at them, he said, “Well, isn’t this a lovely surprise? Two of my favorite people are getting married.”

“What-- Okadiah?” Kanan said, and Hera’s gaze snapped to him.

“Wait, you know Okadiah?”

“YOU know Okadiah?” Kanan countered.

“Indeed,” Okadiah said with a chuckle. “I met Hera when she was just starting out on her own. Gave her a place to stay for a while and helped her on her way.”

“And how did you meet Kanan?” Hera asked curiously.

“It’s a long story,” Kanan cut in hastily. “That we don’t have time for right now. Suffice to say there was a moon that was about to be blown up, actually a few crazy cyborgs, and a couple barroom brawls involved.”

“I’ll regale you with the full tale another time,” Okadiah assured Hera. “In the meantime, let me just say I couldn’t have chosen better for you two if I had chosen myself. I congratulate you both deeply.

“Thanks, Oke,” Kanan said, shooting the older man a smile as he headed inside.

Next, they found themselves facing the third group, which was an eclectic group Hera had not expected-- a Mandalorian woman in green-blue armor, a Mirialan woman with purple skin, curly hair and exceptional fashion, and a human man holding hands with her. In their free hands, both of the latter two carried hefty suitcases, and the Mandalorian was lugging two more.

Grinning, Kanan stepped forward. “Cinya! How are you?”

“Still very willing to punch you out again,” the Mandalorian said tartly.

“But you won’t because he’s only got a week until his big party,” the Mirialan reminded her. Turning to Hera, she smiled warmly. “I’m Hadassah, and this is Lanter.” She nodded at the man next to her, who shot Hera a friendly smile.

“They’re dating,” Cinya said, and Kanan’s eyes lit up.

“About time-- congratulations, you two.”

“Thanks,” Lanter said, grinning. “Congratulations to you-- I can’t believe you’re getting married! Seems like only yesterday Cinya tried to kill you in Hadassah’s juice bar.”

“Good times,” Kanan said remiscently.

“I take it there’s something of a story here,” Hera remarked, and Hadassah laughed.

“You have no idea. Luckily, we'll have plenty of time to tell you. Lanter and I are your stylists for the party.”

“Really?” Kanan said, surprised. “I didn't know Mace and Depa asked you guys to do that.”

“You bet your life, you tall string bean,” Lanter said with a grin. “Lanter and Hadassah are here to save the day.”

Kanan looked at him for a moment, then turned to Cinya. “He watched “The Princess Diaries” on the way here, didn't he?”

Cinya nodded. “Both of them, and he cried twice during the second one.”

“I won't apologize for my love for Clarisse and Joe,” Lanter said dramatically. “They're the ultimate couple goals. Hadassah is my Clarisse.”

“You are so sweet,” Hadassah said, kissing him on the cheek.

Cinya let out a dramatic sigh. "You guys are so ridiculously sappy. Let's get moving.”

The five of them headed into the house and up to a suite that had clearly been prepared for this very reason-- a table was set up with a mirror on it, a swivel chair in front of it. At one end of the room Hera spotted a folding screen set up to change behind.

Lanter and Hadassah instantly started unpacking from their suitcases-- hairbrushes, makeup containers, ear cone pendants, perfumes, and a thousand other things that could be useful. “You… really came prepared,” Hera said, staring as Lanter pulled out a curling iron. “However, I doubt I’m going to need that.”

“Oh, that’s for Dassah,” Lanter assured her. “But if Kanan could just let me do his hair--”

“Absolutely not,” Kanan said immediately. “I already told Sabine she could.”

“But Kanan, I have the perfect--”

“Under no circumstances are you giving me the moose hairdo from “The Princess Diaries”, Lanter.”

Smirking, Lanter said, “But you would be a handsome moose. Make all the girl moose go WHUA!”

Kanan groaned, but Hera couldn’t help but laugh. “I think I’m going to like you,” she told Lanter, who beamed.

“Why thank you, Ms. Syndulla, I like you very much, too!”

Grinning, Hadassah said, “Alright, we have work to do, and I'm sure that you two do, as well. But before you go-- color preferences for your outfits? Keep in mind that they have to be somewhat coordinated.”

“Nah, I trust you not to put me in anything too reprehensible,” Kanan said jokingly.

Rolling her eyes, Hadassah said, “Immeasurably unhelpful. Fine-- I'm thinking of a blue and green color scheme for the two of you. Lanter, what do you think?”

“Perfect,” Lanter immediately agreed. “We'll get to work straight away.”

“And we'll leave you to it,” Hera said. Looping her arm through Kanan's, she tugged him forward, and they headed out.

As they made their way down the hall, Kanan murmured, “Nice job with Kasmir earlier. He can be a little too nosy for his own good.”

“No worries-- he seems nice,” Hera commented. “Very excited about us.”

A slight smile pulled at the corner of Kanan's mouth. “He's an old friend. I'm not surprised he's so excited, frankly. It's kind of who he is.”

Hera nodded without speaking, but felt an internal twinge. Part of her couldn't help but dislike the fact they were deceiving so many people, good people. They didn't deserve to be lied to like this.

And there was also another part of her. A part that found herself noticing Kanan's quiet determination and his kindness around Ezra and the grin he'd give her sometimes-- and she'd be lying if she said she hadn't noticed the fact that she was engaged to an extremely handsome man. There was a part of her that felt a flutter in her chest at his touch.

And that part of her wished that this whole thing wasn't based on a lie.

“Hera?” Kanan's concerned voice broke through her thoughts, and she glanced up to see him frowning at her. “You okay?”

Hera gave her head a quick shake, like the motion would send those thoughts flying. But they’d been there too long for that. “Fine, sorry-- were you saying something?”

A slight furrow in Kanan’s brow hinted that he wasn’t quite satisfied with her response, but all he said was, “I was wondering if you still think your father won’t accept his invitation.”

“Oh.” Hera shook her head. “No, he won’t come. Especially since you’re inviting Imperials to keep our cover. He doesn’t know that-- he’ll probably assume I’m all but colluding with them. So either he won’t come, or I’ll wish he hadn’t.” Releasing a sigh, she said, “I guess I always assumed he and my mother would be here for this.”

Kanan slipped his arm from around hers long enough to catch hold of her hand, and Hera felt her heartbeat stutter as his fingers laced through hers. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly, giving her hand a quick squeeze.

“It’s okay,” Hera told him, returning the gesture. “I may not have my father and mother, but I have you, and everyone else here. And at this point, they feel like family almost more than my father does.”

The smile Kanan gave her was a soft one with that unusual warmth shining around the edges, the light that she saw in his eyes more and more these days. Hera couldn’t bring herself to look away, despite the flush she knew was growing on her cheeks. Time to get out of here, she decided. Before I do something truly stupid.

“I should probably--” she started.

“Do you ever--” Kanan began at the same time. They both stopped short, and Hera laughed, feeling a flash of self-consciousness.

“Sorry, you go ahead,” Kanan said, giving her the crooked grin, the one that was Hera’s favorite. For just a second, her gaze lingered on it, and she found herself wondering what it would be like to close the distance, to drop a kiss against the upturned corner of his mouth--

What are you THINKING, Hera? She scolded herself. You can’t just start thinking about kissing Kanan, not now. Clearing her throat, she said, “I was just going to say that I’d better get going-- plenty to do before our party.”

“Right, yeah,” Kanan said, and was Hera imagining it or was there something a little strained about his voice? “Same here. See you later?”

“Yes-- but didn’t you want to tell me something?” Hera asked.

Kanan opened his mouth to speak, and stopped for a moment. Closing it, he finally shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. I’d better get going.”

Releasing Hera’s hand, he headed off down the hall, leaving Hera staring after him. Well, that was… strange. But she really didn’t have time to spend thinking about why Kanan was acting so strangely.

So of course, over the next three days leading up to their engagement party, that was all she thought about. Especially since Kanan seemed to be avoiding her. He was always out on some sort of business of some kind or in a fitting with Lanter or working to help clean out the ballroom.

And Hera didn’t feel hurt by that. That would be ridiculous. They were both busy, she didn’t exactly have time to spend with him either.

Or maybe she was avoiding him, too. Either way, it didn’t matter. Much.

Alright, it definitely did matter, but some part of Hera didn’t want to bring it up. Maybe she was afraid of the answer, maybe she was afraid she’d lose what she had with Kanan, maybe she was afraid that she was falling in love with a man she wasn’t supposed to technically fall for.

So she kept pushing aside the thoughts, and threw herself into working for the engagement party. And before she knew it, it was the evening of the party, and she was heading up to Hadassah’s suite to get her dress.

The Mirialan was waiting with excitement stamped across her face, and a companion-- Depa Billaba. Throwing her a smile, Depa said, “Don’t mind me, I’m just here to see my future daughter in law get ready. It’s my prerogative.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Hera said, giving Depa a smile and pretending like the “daughter in law” part didn’t throw her for a loop. “Okay-- where’s my dress?”

“Here,” Hadassah said, darting over to the changing screen and pulling a dress on a hanger from behind it. She held it up, her eyes gleaming with anticipation. “What do you think?”

Hera’s eyes widened at the sight-- a sleeveless dress with a high neckline, made of fluttery fabric, the color shading from teal into a deep cobalt blue. It was stunning-- Hera knew just by looking at it that she’d never owned anything so expensive and beautiful in her life, other than the Ghost.

“It’s beautiful,” she breathed, brushing a hand across the smooth cloth. “I-- I don’t know how to thank you.”

“Well, Depa paid us,” Hadassah said with a shrug. “But you can repay us by going out and having a good time with your fiance tonight. Speaking of which, I’d better get going-- Lanter’s waiting for me downstairs.”

Giving them a quick wave, Hadassah slipped out of the room, leaving Hera with Depa. Glancing at the Jedi, Hera said, “Thank you. I don’t know how I can repay you--”

“No repayment necessary,” Depa said firmly. “I’m happy to do it.” As Hera admired the dress for a moment longer, she added, “However, I do have a question for you.”

Hera glanced at Depa curiously, and saw the Jedi wearing a patiently curious expression. “I’ve noticed you and Kanan have been avoiding each other lately. Did something happen?”

“No, I-- we’re not-- what makes you think--” Hera stammered, and Depa held up a hand.

“Hera. I’m not the blind one. You two used to spend every day together, but I haven’t seen you with my apprentice in days. What’s going on?”

Hera bit her lip, her eyes flicking from Depa to the floor and then back again. Part of her felt that saying how she felt out loud would make it far too real. But the sympathy and understanding in Depa’s eyes pulled the words out of her. “I don’t want to avoid him. But things are just… complicated right now.”

Narrowing her eyes, Depa said, “Did he make a move on you?”

“What? No, of course not.” Hera felt herself flush at her next words. “Do you think-- would he-- never mind.”

“Ahhh.” A knowing smile grew on Depa’s face. “I see.”

“See… what?” Frustration boiled through Hera at the almost desperate curiosity in her words. She felt so irritatingly petty about this whole thing.

“That you’re in love with my apprentice,” Depa said matter of factly.

Oh. Oh, dear. But she wasn’t wrong. “I… I didn’t expect this to happen,” Hera said softly. “I had no idea that Kanan would be…” Handsome? Charming? So incredibly caring and kind? The kind of man I could spend my life with?

“I know,” Depa said, her tone soft and sympathetic. “It can’t be easy to be in a relationship without actually being in a relationship. Hera-- if I may give you some advice?”

“Okay,” Hera said hesitantly.

“You don’t seem to be the kind of woman who would give her heart easily. But if Kanan’s the one who’s earned it, don’t give up on that. Both of you deserve better than that.”

“He does, you’re right,” Hera agreed, her voice low. “I just don’t want to ruin what Kanan and I have by--”

“Telling him that you love him?” Depa reached out and touched her hand, her eyes kind. “You don’t have to. But honesty is important in any relationship, whether it’s romantic or not. And will you regret it if you don’t? Just think about it, please.”

“I-- I will,” Hera promised, unsure whether it was fear or determination swelling in her chest. Depa smiled and gave her hand a quick squeeze.

“Good. Now, get dressed. You have a party to get to.”

Half an hour later, Hera was wearing the amazing dress Hadassah had given her, along with a set of silver ear cone pendants set with teal gems and a matching bracelet. She waited by the door of the ballroom for Kanan, who still hadn’t arrived. Is he even coming? She wondered with a flash of worry-- silly worry, really. Kanan wouldn’t just stand her up, and it was his party, too.

Seconds after she thought the words, she heard footsteps behind her, and Kanna’s voice. “Sorry I’m late,” he called. “Ezra needed something before I left.”

“Don’t worry about it--”

Hera’s words stuttered to a halt in her mouth as she stared at Kanan, who gaped right back at her. She usually saw him in his casual every-day wear, or occasionally Jedi robes. What he wore now was nothing like that.

He wore a crisp white shirt with long sleeves and dark trousers. Over the shirt, he had on a navy blue jerkin with teal embroidery that brought out the vibrant color in his eyes. At his hip hung his lightsaber, which Hera had only rarely seen him with.

“Wow,” he breathed as he stared at her. “You’re… wow.”

“You… you look incredible,” Hera managed. And it was the truth. A small smile lifted the corner of Kanan’s mouth.

“Thanks,” he said, closing the distance between them and capturing her hand in his. Hera felt her heart start pounding as he gazed at her, seeming to drink in the sight of her. “But trust me,” he murmured. “No one’s going to be looking at me when you’re standing next to me.”

“I will be.” Hera felt her face warm the minute the words slipped out of her mouth, because it sounded like flirting. It was flirting, she knew. But she really couldn’t help herself, especially with him standing inches away from her, looking at her the way he was.

A crooked grin danced across Kanan’s face. “Really, Captain Syndulla? Flirting at a time like this?”

“Well, it is our engagement party,” Hera pointed out, feeling a ridiculous sense of relief. Kanan was here with her, and even his presence made this whole thing a little easier to deal with. Well, except for the fact that she was incredibly caught off guard by how handsome he looked tonight.

Offering her his arm, Kanan said, “That’s true. And we should probably head in. Are you ready?”

Looping her arm around his, Hera replied, “Not remotely. Let’s do this.”

“That’s the spirit.”

They moved into the ballroom subtly, but somehow everyone noticed them the moment they set foot inside. Hera could feel the eyes on her, and she stiffened, trying not to panic. Kanan’s thumb brushed against her bare upper arm, sending a quick shiver down her spine. “It’s okay,” he said, his voice too low for anyone else to hear. “Take a deep breath. I’m here.”

Somehow, that was more comforting than anything else he could have said. Hera took a quick deep breath as Mace and Depa headed their way. Depa was clad in a lavender dress, while Mace looked majestically elegant in formal Jedi robes, the dark scar across his eyes totally unhidden.

Giving both of them a warm smile, Depa said, “You both look wonderful, although you are a little late.”

“Sorry-- Ezra was trying to convince me to smuggle him cake in my pockets,” Kanan apologized.

“I’m sure that’s what the guests will think happened,” Mace muttered with a small smirk that looked a little too much like his grand Padawan’s.

“Manners, Mace,” Depa said. “And I can’t believe I’m saying that to you instead of the other way around. Okay, here’s what you two need to do-- mingle a little bit, say hello to the guests. Make sure to greet Governor Pryce--”

“Absolutely not,” Kanan said flatly. “She’s the reason Ezra’s parents are--”

“I know that, but we have to be careful, Kanan,” Depa said, her voice firm.

“What-- Pryce isn’t some invincible succubus,” Kanan protested. “She’s a regular succubus, who can be defeated.”

Releasing a sigh, Depa turned to Hera. “When Pryce comes over-- she’s the one with the short black hair, Imperial uniform--”

“Don’t look straight into her eyes, though,” Kanan muttered.

“Why, because she’ll turn you to stone?” Mace asked.

“No, because her eyes are ugly.”

Letting out a sigh, Depa said, “Perhaps it’s better if Hera does the talking.”

“Perhaps,” Hera agreed.

“Fine,” Kanan said, not looking upset. “Anything else?”

Nodding, Depa said, “Yes. Actually try to have a good time. And don’t forget to have at least one dance.”

“Finally, something I can get behind,” Kanan said with a grin, and Hera was suddenly very aware of how close they were standing, of his arm brushing against hers.

She saw a slight smile flicker across Depa's face, but all the Jedi said was, “Have fun, you two.”

Turning, she led Mace away as the music began and a few couples started to move out onto the dance floor. One in particular caught Hera’s eye--- a man with dark hair and a scar across one eye, dressed in all black, including a long black coat embroidered in gold. At his side was a slight woman, her long curly hair hanging loose and free. She was dressed in a floor length golden silk gown, with a decorative aqua panel along the bodice and a matching sash. Slim straps hung the gown from her shoulders, which were bare except for a gauzy aqua veil that was clasped to her wrists with cuffs made of the same golden silk.

“Is that Senator Amidala?” she asked Kanan quietly.

“Yeah-- as it turns out, giant engagement parties are a really good way to get your Rebellion contacts in close proximity so you can exchange information. There’ll probably be a meeting tonight with some of the leaders-- including them.”

Hera followed Kanan’s discreet nod to a dark haired woman wearing dark blue, dancing with a man in a matching cape who Hera suddenly recognized. “Wait-- Senator Organa’s here, too?”

Nodding, Kann said, “As is Senator Mothma, the Duchess of Mandalore, and about a dozen others. The Jedi aren’t submitting. We’re just waiting for the right moment to strike.” Flashing her a teasing grin, he added, “And to think, you thought we were just sitting around letting the Empire walk all over us.”

“Well, you were acting that way very convincingly,” Hera pointed out.

“Glad to hear it.”

Spotting a tall woman in Imperial greys making her way through the crowd towards them. Hera muttered, “I think I spotted your friend, Governor Pryce.”

“What? Kriff.” Kanan grimaced. “Time to pretend to be polite.”

“Unless you didn’t see her, and you had something else very pressing to address,” Hera pointed out. “After all, you do owe me at least one dance. Probably more.”

A grin slowly crossed Kanan’s face. “I do, don’t I?” Giving her a bow, he offered her a hand. “Will you dance, Captain Hera?”

Placing her hand in his, Hera said, “With you, I will.”

The two of them moved out onto the dance floor together. The music in the background was sweet and elegant, and she had an excellent partner. True to form, Kanan’s movements were smooth and graceful. “You dance better than I expected,” Hera observed.

“I’ve been practicing,” Kanan admitted with that crooked grin of his. “Didn’t want to embarrass myself in front of my fiancee, after all. Spin.”

Hera obligingly twirled away from Kanan, her hand still locked securely in his. With a gentle tug, Kanan brought her back to him, his arm slipping back around her waist. Hera felt her breath catch as she met his eyes, and was suddenly very aware of the space between them. She was close enough she could sense the warmth of Kanan’s skin, and the look in his eyes as he gazed at her sent a flutter through her stomach.

“You’re staring, dear,” she told him in a soft undertone.

“Is it that obvious?” he asked, his voice equally low.

Lifting an eyebrow, Hera said, “I mean. A little.”

A small wince crossed Kanan’s face. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable.”

“Uncomfortable isn’t the word I’d use,” Hera replied, and something flickered in Kanan’s eyes.

“Then… what would you call it?” he asked, his low baritone holding a soft question beyond his words.

“Cherished.”

The word slipped out before Hera could help it. But it was true. No one had ever looked at her the way Kanan had, the way he was looking at her now. Not like she was an object or a price on the slave market. Like she was something truly priceless.

Kanan’s eyes widened, and he started to speak. But before he could, a voice caught their attention. “Kanan! Mind if I have a word?”

Hera glanced towards the sound, catching sight of Anakin Skywalker heading towards them, a bearded man at his side who Hera realized must be Obi-Wan Kenobi. He shot Hera a look that could only be translated as “I am so sorry for this” as Anakin paused next to them.

“It’s important,” he told Kanan as he and Hera came to a halt.

“Of course,” Kanan said, releasing Hera and stepping away from her. Hera thought she saw a flash of reluctance in his eyes, but if it was there, he masked it well. Glancing at her, he said, “I’m sorry--”

“It’s fine, love,” Hera told him, forcing a smile. “I’ll leave you to it.”

She slipped away from the three of them and headed into the crowd, feeling Kanan’s eyes follow her as she walked. But it wasn’t long before she was out of their sight.

At the far end of the ballroom, there was a door that led out onto a balcony overlooking the Lothal prairie beyond the house. Hera made her way there, and slipped outside.

The cool night breeze was a relief after the nearly stifling warmth of the ballroom-- although not all of it was from the amount of people in there, Hera knew. She felt heat sweep over her again as her mind wandered back to dancing with Kanan, the warmth of his skin seeping through her dress.

Taking a quick breath, Hera pressed her hands against the cold stone of the balcony railing and stared out at Lothal’s moons shimmering amongst the stars above them. Two out of the three were full, just like the night when she’d first met Kanan. She never would have thought that evening that all of this would come about, that she would end up engaged to a man she’d just met.

That she would end up falling in love with him.

Hera pressed her eyes shut, taking a shaky breath. Force. She wasn’t even sure if he felt the same way. But that didn’t exactly stop her from thinking about Kanan, from wanting to be near him, from wondering what it would be like to kiss him.

“Hera?”

Kanan’s voice came from directly behind her, low and warm. Hera took in a quick breath, then turned to face him. The light from the doorway illuminated him from behind, the shadows obscuring his expression.

“Depa said she saw you heading this way,” he said, moving up next to her. “Mind if I join you?”

“Not at all,” Hera said, and Kanan settled beside her, resting his forearms on the balcony railing.

“Sorry we got interrupted earlier,” he said, flicking a quick glance her way. “Apparently, Skywalker’s daughter had collected some important intel he wanted to share as soon as possible.”

“It’s fine, love,” Hera said. “I understand.”

She sensed Kanan stiffen next to her, and frowned. What did I-- oh.

“You called me love,” he said, his voice soft.

“I-- yeah, I did,” Hera said, feeling herself flushing. Of course this would be how it came out. She was trying to think of what to say next when Kanan spoke.

“Do you ever wish this was real?”

Hera froze, her brain going blank. All she could manage to say was, “What?”

“This whole thing, this engagement. Do you ever wish it was real? Because I-- I can’t lie to you, Hera.” Kanan turned towards her, and Hera felt her heart stutter against her breastbone as he met her gaze. “I do,” he said. “I’m sorry--”

“Don’t be.” The words slipped out of Hera’s mouth, but she didn’t even try to take them back. She couldn’t, not with the way Kanan was looking at her now, his eyes wide but full of something that made Hera flush.

“Hera,” he whispered. “I would never, ever do anything to push past your boundaries.”

“I know,” Hera said, her gaze locked on Kanan’s face and her heartbeat steadily rising as she watched him.

“But I really, really want to kiss you right now.” Kanan paused, his eyes lingering on her, then stepped a little closer. “Can I…?”

Hera closed the distance between them without hesitation. Her lips met his, and Hera was nearly swept off her feet by the dizzy array of emotions washing over her. A strong arm slipping around her waist steadied her as Kanan kissed her back, gently drawing her close.

They broke apart a few moments later, and Hera took a quick breath in. “Force, Kanan.”

“Can you tell I’ve been waiting a while to do that?” Kanan asked, his voice amused.

“Maybe a little,” Hera said, letting her forehead rest against his. “I-- how does this even happen? Who could have seen this coming?”

Kanan paused, then let out a soft chuckle that Hera more felt that heard. “Uh. Possibly Mace.”

“What??” Hera pulled back enough to see his face. “What are you talking about?”

“The first day you were here, he told me the Force led him to you, and it wanted you here,” Kanan said. “I didn’t know why at the time, but he seemed pretty confident.”

“And you think the Force wanted us together?” Hera said, lifting an eyebrow. “The mystical Force that binds the whole galaxy together could not possibly be invested in our relationship.”

“Well, you never know,” Kanan said, giving her a cocky smirk. “We are pretty amazing.”

“You are a pain, dear,” Hera said with a roll of her eyes.

“Lucky for you I’m your pain,” Kanan said. Pausing, he asked, “Will you call me love again?”

“Kiss me, love,” Hera said, and Kanan happily obliged.

[purrincess-chat]

Marinette Dupain-Cheng’s Spite Playlist: Remix CH25

This chapter might look familiar to those of you who read the original ;) But there’s a twist!

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Chapter 25: Attack of Panic

“Remember, class, pick a painting that inspires you. Your reports are due tomorrow, so be sure to take good notes while on your tours today.” Mme. Pierre instructed. “We’ll meet for lunch in the courtyard. Try to learn something today.”

Marinette took a deep breath as Mme. Pierre dismissed them. Eliott and Lisette grouped up, walking arm-in-arm a few paces ahead. After overcoming their shyness from Saturday’s date, they were practically inseparable. Marinette was happy for them, but it made her miss Adrien. Having a boyfriend at a different school was lonely. How did anyone manage long-distance relationships?

Macy linked their arms together, snapping Marinette out of her trance.

“Let’s walk around in a group,” she said, tugging Martin on her other side.

“Sure.” Marinette smiled.

At least she still had friends to walk with, so she wasn’t completely alone. Though she’d have to think of a way to branch off to give Martin time alone with Macy, but then who would she walk with?

Long red curls bounced up the hall ahead of them, and a smirk curled on Marinette’s lips.

“Let’s go this way first.” She suggested, tugging Macy in the direction Gabrielle had gone.

“Shouldn’t we invite Eliott and Lisette?” Martin asked.

“No way. They’re spending quality time together as a couple. They’ll meet up with us at lunch,” Macy said. “Speaking of couples, did you see Thomas’s new girlfriend? I heard he ditched little miss bankrupt as soon as he found out.” Macy pointed to Gabrielle who was jotting down notes in front of a painting.

“Macy, that’s mean.” Martin chided.

“So was she.” Macy huffed. “She used to torment you, shouldn’t you be laughing too?”

“Yeah, but I don’t think she deserves to be miserable,” he said. “She’s been a lot different lately, and I’ve forgiven her. You should too.”

“Aww, Martin.” Macy hugged his shoulders, turning the tips of his ears red. “You’re an angel, you know that?”

Marinette bit back a smile as he faltered, tuning into the museum guide’s explanation. A boy with bright red hair stood in front of her, jotting down notes around a doodle in his notebook. His drawing was pretty good, though the style reminded her of someone.

Wait. Marinette knew that tomato top. She blinked a few times to ensure she wasn’t imagining it.

Nathaniel?

Marinette spun around, frantically searching the exhibit. Kim was mimicking the pose of a statue for Max and Alix across the room. Myléne and Ivan were reading a placard, hands twined while Juleka and Rose studied a map.

“Looks like we took the same field trip.” She jumped at Adrien’s voice in her ear, and he placed a hand on the small of her back to steady her. “You okay?”

“I-”

“Marinette?” Her spine stiffened as Kim called out to her. “Guys, it’s Marinette!”

“Marinette!”

“Yo, what up?”

“I love your new hair.”

“We missed you.”

Marinette’s heart sank at Rose’s declaration, and her old classmates surrounded her with eager smiles. Her old friends. Some of them, anyway. Nathaniel hung back, refusing to meet her gaze—a reminder of how far Lila’s influence still stretched. Marinette’s stomach twisted in knots.

“I-” She bit her lip to hold back tears. “I missed you guys too.”

“Aww.” Everyone crowded in for a hug, complimenting her hair and filling her in on exciting developments since she’d left.

“Well, well, look who it is. Long time no see, Marinette.”

Marinette’s blood ran cold.

The atmosphere changed in an instant, the crowd around her parting at Lila’s voice. She wore the same smirk she always did, silently goading Marinette. To add insult, Alya stared right through her like she were any other patron in the museum. A stranger.

Marinette swallowed hard.

Nathaniel and Myléne moved to stand beside Lila and Sabrina. Nino draped an arm over Alya’s shoulders, giving a curt nod to Adrien. Lila’s green eyes glinted as their classmates claimed their sides. She didn’t seem bothered at all by those still standing beside Marinette—quite the opposite. Lila lived for the challenge, but Marinette felt like she was going to throw up. What was she plotting?

“How is your new school? Why did you transfer anyway? And without telling any of us! We were so heartbroken,” Lila cooed.

Marinette’s jaw clenched, biting back a string of insults. Now wasn’t the time to start a fight—it would make Lila look more sympathetic. Marinette needed to keep a cool head, even if Lila was a snake.

Adrien bristled, fingers curling on Marinette’s back. “Lila-”

“You’re right. I’m sorry,” Marinette said. “I know I should have told all of you, but it was a sudden decision I made because I wanted to focus on my future. I hope you’re all not mad at me.”

“How could we be mad at you? You’re like, the best,” Kim said.

“Indeed. We were confused, but this development makes sense. We know how important your future as a designer is to you, and with your level of talent, moving to a new school will increase your chances of succeeding in your field by 68.9%.” Max nodded.

“I mean, you could have said goodbye,” Nathaniel said, and Alix elbowed him.

“We’re just glad to see you again. We haven’t heard from you, so we were afraid to come see you.” Rose buried her face in Marinette’s blazer. “We’re sorry for being bad friends!”

“Rose…” Marinette patted her back.

“But you’ve had some crazy cool adventures at your new school. Tell us about that Jagged Stone concert!” Alix requested, several classmates echoing their agreement.

“Hey, Marinette, we’re gonna move to the next exhibit,” Macy said, parting the crowd to reach her. “We need to take notes for our report.”

“You’re right. Sorry, I have to go.” Marinette winced, though her former classmates only smiled.

“No sweat, Marinette.”

“Hey, we’re all having lunch in the courtyard later, you should sit with us!” Rose offered.

“Uh, sure,” Marinette said. As her old classmates dispersed, she shot a glare at Lila who only smiled in return.

“Adrien, our teacher wanted us to stay together. You don’t want to get in trouble, do you?” Lila said, not bothering to mask the gloat in her tone, but she wasn’t going to get a rise out of Marinette today.

“I’ll see you later.” Adrien planted a quick kiss to Marinette’s cheek, side-eyeing Lila as he did.  

Macy tugged Marinette away from them swiftly, not slowing down until they’d rounded the corner to another hall.

“Martin told me about your run-in with that girl last week, so I wanted to get you out of there,” Macy said once they were safely in another room. “You were being so brave.”

“Do you want us to be your buffer today?” Martin asked.

Marinette smiled. Her friends were always looking out for her. What would she do without them?

“Thank you, both of you, but I’m fine. Seeing everyone again has actually put my mind at ease. At least now I know they don’t hate me. Well, most of them anyway.” She hugged her arms to her chest. “My biggest challenge today will be avoiding confrontation with Lila.”

“Well, you know we’ve got your back.” Macy linked an arm through Marinette’s with a smile.

“I’m really good at avoiding people, so I can steer us away from them.” Martin added.

“You guys are the best.” Marinette pulled them in for a side-hug.

“You’ve protected us in the past, so now it’s our turn,” Martin said. “Let us be your shield today.”

Marinette tightened her grip, leaning her head against Macy’s shoulder. Her old friends might still be under Lila’s control, but Marinette was grateful for the people she’d found after leaving. They’d been there for her when her whole world was falling apart. She really was lucky to have them.

Martin’s stealth proved effective as the morning wore on. Marinette barely saw any of her old classmates. As much relief as it brought her to know they still thought of her as a friend, she wasn’t ready to dive all the way back in. After all, they were still enamored by Lila, so she needed to tread carefully.

While Macy and Martin were engrossed in a Regnault, Marinette slipped over to the painting Gabrielle was studying across the room. Her dark green eyes didn’t look up when Marinette flanked her on the left, but she’d expected as much.

“You know, most people don’t avoid popularity.” When Marinette turned, Gabrielle’s face fell into a scowl. “Don’t turn around! I don’t want people to know we’re talking.”

Marinette turned back to the painting and pretended to study it. She was used to this game by now. Just because they were friends didn’t mean Gabrielle wanted everyone to know. She said it was for Marinette’s own good since people still rubbed the whole bankrupt thing in her face, but Marinette was starting to think she was just shy.

“You said you ran away from your old friends because they ditched you, but they all seemed more than happy to see you,” she said.

“It’s complicated.” Marinette jotted down information from the placard. “They’re being manipulated.”

“By the girl from the café?”

“Yeah.” Marinette pressed her lips into a firm line.

“She is quite the show pony,” Gabrielle said. “I can see why you two butt heads.”

“Lila is very charismatic. She tells people what they want to hear, so they don’t question it. It’s how she keeps control over them,” Marinette replied.

“She’d make a great politician.” Gabrielle laughed, but when Marinette remained quiet, she added, “It would be easy to take her down, you know. Someone with your connections could prove she’s lying with two phone calls.”

Marinette paused her writing and lowered her notebook with a frown.

“I’m not getting involved. It’s not my job to save everyone,” she said with more bite than she intended.

“Oh, don’t give me that.” Gabrielle rolled her eyes. “You like playing the hero, not for any glory or self-elevation, but just because you like helping people. It’s your most annoying quality.”

“I do not…” Marinette said lamely.

“Is that why even though I was mean to you and your friends, you still come by my café every Tuesday, so I don’t have to walk home alone? Why you talk to me at all when everyone else abandoned me,” she shot back. “Martin was a spineless twig before he met you. Macy and Eliott were complacent cowards. Now the twig has grown a trunk, and Thing 1 and 2 won’t stop running their mouths. You can’t help yourself, Marinette. You’re a good person.”

“Do you really think exposing her is what I should do? She’ll end up hurt and alone.” Marinette lowered her gaze.

“So what? She did it to herself when she told all of those lies. Sometimes you need to lose everything in order to change. If you leave her like this, she’ll never stop.” Gabrielle let out a short laugh. “Take it from someone who knows.”

Marinette weighed those words, pressing her lips together. Did she want to help? Of course. But did she want to get involved again at the expense of her own well-being? She wasn’t sure.

Lila was slippery. Marinette wasn’t even sure she could take her down, and if she did, she’d only cement her as an enemy. She needed a different way, an indirect way to make everyone see without calling her out to her face. A way to make Lila’s lies crumble from underneath, so that she had no choice but to face the truth.

There is one person who would know what to do.

But did Marinette want to stoop that low? Chloe requested her help once before, but did she even still want it? Chloe and Adrien had tried and failed to out Lila multiple times. Not to mention, Marinette and Adrien promised each other to let it go. Things were finally working out between them, and Marinette didn’t want to do anything to jeopardize that.

Marinette left her old life behind for a reason. Looking back was too painful. It had been a month since she left, and Marinette thought she was finally over everything until today. Seeing her old classmates rattled her more than she thought it would, a cool draft from the door she couldn’t quite close pricking her skin. But what did she expect when she ran away from her problems instead of facing them? A broken door couldn’t keep out the cold if it was never fixed. How much longer could Marinette run before the past caught up to her? How much longer until she had to turn around and face it? She didn’t want to think about it.

“Guess who?” She jumped as a playful lilt sounded in her ear, and a hand clamped over her eyes.

“Adrien?”

He lowered his hands with a cheery smile. Gabrielle was gone, and none of her old classmates were anywhere in sight. Her shoulders relaxed as Adrien pulled her close, touching his forehead to hers.

“You doing okay?” he asked.

“Yeah, I’m…fine.” She pushed her frantic thoughts away.

Adrien turned her around gently, hugging her from behind. “I know you’re avoiding everyone, but let’s walk around together for a bit. Just me and you.” His lips brushed her cheek, warm breath teasing her skin.

Adrien was her boyfriend now. Adrien, the boy of her dreams, was her boyfriend. Marinette still hadn’t told him her feelings, nor had he, but Adrien referred to himself as her boyfriend on Saturday. Their date hadn’t exactly gone as planned, but they were still able to spend time together. She’d tell him the next time they were alone together. No more hiding and running away.

“Okay.”

They walked hand-in-hand through several exhibits. Adrien mimicked a few poses from the paintings they passed. Marinette smiled and laughed. She leaned on his shoulder and snuggled into the crook of his neck, pushing the worries from that morning out of her mind. Lila wasn’t her problem anymore. Her old classmates still liked her—most of them anyway. Adrien was her boyfriend. Her new friends were amazing. Everything was fine.

So why didn’t she feel fine?

“Are you sure you’re gonna be okay with everyone at lunch?” Adrien asked. “I know you’re putting on a brave face, but we don’t have to eat with them if you don’t want to.”

He’d gotten good at sensing her mood. Could he be any more perfect?

“I’ll be fine,” she insisted, though her grip tightened on his hand.

“I’ll be right there with you if you need me, okay? I’ve got your back.” He lifted her hand to his lips, placing a gentle kiss to her knuckles.

Adrien continued to keep her mind off of everything, discussing various paintings and relaying stories from recent photoshoots and fencing tournaments. He told her jokes to make her laugh, kept her smiling when she started to look sad. But lunch eventually came, and he held her hand the whole walk to the courtyard.

“Marinette!” Macy waved them over to their group, and as soon as she sat down, her old classmates flocked to her.

“So, who are your new friends?” Rose asked, settling in with Juleka.

“Uh…”

“My name’s Macy, and this is Martin, Eliott, and Lisette.” Macy cast Marinette a reassuring smile as her old classmates introduced themselves one-by-one, but it did little to calm her nerves, especially when Lila approached with her group.

Marinette’s stomach flipped as they sat down, the tension in the group escalating rapidly. Her old classmates flicked their gazes between Lila and Marinette, waiting to see who would strike first.

“Hi, I’m Macy!” She stuck her hand out to Lila with a cheery smile that didn’t touch her eyes. “What’s your name?”

“This is Lila. She has an amazing life,” Sabrina said.

“Same.” Macy smiled sweetly as if that announcement were no big deal.

Marinette’s heartbeat accelerated.

“Last summer, she saved an African village leader from choking,” Nathaniel said, beaming up at her.

“It was the least I could do after he agreed to sign my petition to teach the children how to read.” Lila waved it away.

“Oh, Eliott and I love charity trips. Our parents have an organization that ships out clean water and recycled clothing to third-world countries. We visited a few in Africa last summer to help build huts and dig wells for them.” Macy shot back.

“Those kids played a mean game of football.” Eliott nodded with a reminiscent smile.

“She also spent Christmas in Achu with Prince Ali and his family. They’re close personal friends!” Rose gushed.

“Oh, Achu is lovely at Christmas, but we usually spend it in London at the royal family’s Christmas party. It’s a blast! My dad played water polo with Prince William in college, and they’re still good friends.” Eliott chimed in. “That reminds me, Marinette, you have got to come this year.”

“You know Prince William?” Rose gasped, cupping her cheeks.

“I have his number. Sometimes I babysit when we go to visit.” Eliott shrugged as if it were no big deal.

“Ugh, don’t get him started. He’ll brag all day.” Macy rolled her eyes, but Marinette’s old classmates turned their attention over immediately.

Marinette took a bite of her sandwich, but it turned to sand in her mouth as Alya glared at her. Her expression crossed between disappointment and anger as if she couldn’t believe Marinette would stoop so low. Alya used to give those looks to Chloe when she pulled her usual stunts, but Marinette wasn’t used to being on the receiving end.

As much as she should have been happy that Lila wasn’t getting the attention she wanted, Marinette didn’t have it in her. This was only giving Lila fuel to come up with better lies and new ways to use her friends. The divide between her old classmates was obvious—a deep chasm stretching wider by the minute.

Macy and Eliott might be upstaging her now, but it was only a matter of time before Lila got her revenge. Gabrielle was right. She’d never stop.

“You okay?” Adrien leaned into her ear.

Marinette blinked down at the sandwich she was crushing.

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom.” She set her lunch on top of her bag and scurried off as Eliott performed a scene from the Miraculous show he was in.

The faces she passed were all a blur. Her heart raced, blood roaring in her ears as she raced down the steps, past other patrons who paid no mind to the girl in a private school uniform wandering the halls. She didn’t know where she was going—away. Just away.

Her feet carried her deeper into the museum, lengthening the chasm between her and her old life. She wasn’t ready to turn and face it. The draft had grown stronger now, the cold wind beating against the door. It threatened to give out at any moment, biting Marinette’s toes with its frosty breath. She couldn’t run from it forever, but she could run today.

She collapsed on a bench, face falling into her hands. Her shoulders heaved with ragged breaths, tears wetting her palms. Gentle hands rubbed her back, weight sinking onto the bench beside her.

“Hey, I’m here, just breathe,” Adrien said.

She buried her face into his chest, shoulders shaking. Of course he’d come. Adrien was always by her side. It was one promise he kept, and Marinette needed him desperately.

Adrien held her close and whispered gentle reassurances in her ear until she calmed enough to sit up.

“Talk to me.” He tucked a loose strand of her hair back in place.

“Just… They’re all so taken with her, and she does nothing but use them and rub it in my face,” she whimpered. “And I know that I could expose her in an instant. I have Jagged Stone’s phone number. Clara Nightingale texts me! I could end her reign with a single phone call.”

“But that’s not you,” Adrien said.

She pressed the back of her hand to her quivering lip and shook her head.

“I want to stop it. I do, but I don’t want to play her game anymore. I want to get out, but I just can’t let go.” She found his gaze, hot tears clouding her vision. “I want to save everyone, but I don’t want to do this anymore. I’m tired of being everyone’s hero.”

“It’s okay.” He soothed with increasing alarm, placing a hand on her shoulder. “You’re gonna get through this. You’re the strongest person I know.”

She clenched her hands into fists. “I’m tired of always having to be strong. For once, I want to stop carrying everyone’s burdens because they’re too heavy for me.”

Adrien flicked his gaze over her shoulder briefly and met her gaze once more.

“Listen to me. Macy, Eliott, and Martin are all here for you.” He cupped her face. “I’m here for you. Don’t lose hope.”

“I can’t anymore. I can’t. I can’t-” She stopped short as dark energy washed over her, a cold feeling running through her core.

“Princess Verity, I am Hawkmoth-”

“Marinette, don’t listen to him, listen to me!” Adrien pleaded. “No one expects you to solve all of their problems.”

“Your friends are all trapped by that liar.”

“You’re stronger than him, Marinette.”

“Wouldn’t you like to set them free?”

“Fight it! Don’t give up!”

“I can give you the power to expose the truth.”

“Marinette, you’re not alone.” Marinette blinked, finding Adrien’s worried green eyes baring into hers.

The bracelet Macy gave her had gone dark, glowing with sinister energy. Marinette pressed her lips together. She was too tired to fight. Hadn’t she struggled enough? Maybe it was what Lila deserved—what they all deserved.

“Run, Adrien,” she said.

“No.” Her head snapped up, meeting his determined green eyes. “I’m not leaving you.”

“Adrien, please.”

“No.” He shook his head. “Don’t give up. You can beat him.”

“Adrien.” Fresh tears welled in her eyes, panic swelling. “Please, run. I love you, and I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t. Don’t you know why I call you mon ange?” He held her face in his hands, touching his nose to hers. “Because you’re my angel, and I love you with all of my heart. I’m never going to leave you. Not ever.”

“Adrien…”

She just wanted everything to go back to the way it was—the way things were before Lila. The broken door had been pried open by the storm, dragging Marinette out into its dark flood. Her head hurt, body numb and cold, and even on her tiptoes, she could barely stay above the surface. She was drowning in a sea of her own anguish and guilt, too exhausted to fight the waves.

“Make it stop,” she whispered, a single tear slicing down her cheek.

They didn’t hesitate this time. His lips found hers, warm and safe—a buoy among the waves. Marinette wrapped herself in his warm embrace, driving out the cold ache in her bones. He trailed his fingers up her jaw and into her hair, pulling her closer. Ever since she left, Adrien had always been her lifeline, no matter how rough the waves got. His arms provided stable footing when the current was spinning too fast. He hadn’t abandoned her back then, and he wasn’t abandoning her now. Even her friends were outside fighting for her.

Lila could take a lot of things from her, but not them. These were the people who would always pull her out of the water, no matter how far down she sank. Marinette just needed to hang on while they pulled her to shore.

Taking a deep breath, she undid the clasp on her bracelet with shaking hands and set it on the bench. Macy, Elliot, Martin, Lisette, Adrien, Gabrielle. She had so many people who loved her—people who had been looking out for her all day. People who were still looking out for her. She was not alone.

“Not this time, Hawkmoth. I won’t help you. This isn’t the answer to my problem,” she said calmly.

The butterfly reemerged and fluttered off, returning the bracelet to normal. Marinette watched it go, legs too heavy to give chase.

Adrien crushed her against his chest, kissing her hair. “You’re okay. I’ve got you. You’re safe.” He rubbed her back, clutching fistfuls of her shirt in shaking hands. “I’m here. It’s gonna be okay.”

“Adrien, the akuma. We have to stop it,” she said, but he didn’t budge.

“One minute, Marinette,” he murmured. “Can you think of yourself for just one minute and stay here with me?”

Marinette relented, finding his lips again. He kissed her hard, his fear and relief washing over her, the severity of the situation hitting her in the gut.

She’d almost been akumatized. Again.

If Adrien hadn’t been there, Paris would have been doomed. He was her guardian angel, and the best boyfriend in the world. The selfish part of her wanted to stay and kiss his pillowy lips forever. Maybe someone would paint a picture of them and hang it in the museum, then everyone could bask in their undying love. But Marinette couldn’t afford such luxurious daydreams. Not everyone had the support system Marinette did, and she needed to find the akuma before someone else fell victim to Hawkmoth.

“Thank you,” she said when they pulled away. “You’ve been looking out for me all day.”

“You’re not alone, mon ange. I will always be here for you.” He vowed, kissing her forehead.

She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. “We should go after that akuma before it gets someone else.”

“We can cover more ground if we split up.” He fastened her bracelet around her wrist, giving her hand a squeeze. “Be careful, and stay safe.”

“You too.” They leaned in for one final kiss, swift and hard, before turning their backs and taking off.

“I’m very proud of you, Marinette,” Tikki said as she took cover in a closed exhibit. “And you and Adrien finally confessed your true feelings!”

“We can talk about it later. We have an akuma to catch. Transform me!”

[prncesselene]

i love your kathony fics 🥺. are prompts still open? if they are then anything around that moment that is mentioned by edwina in the books - when kate says people will move on from her and anthony's *love match* gossip soon enough and edwina's like not as long as anthony looks at you the way he did at that ball, smouldering, pushing people away to get to kate. i love that because anthony is still in his denial phase but his actions are SO clearly the opposite xD

i am indeed still taking prompts! i’m working through them all ridiculously slowly, as my inactivity might indicate (lol), but i will be getting through everything that’s being sent my way, promise! :)

ao3

“There you are!”

Kate turned at the sound of her husband’s voice, her eyes widening. She hadn’t expected him to notice she’d even left the ballroom, much less follow her out. Her slowly relaxing heart took flight once more, a mixture of shame and embarrassment pooling in her chest.

They’d arrived back in London only a few nights ago, fresh off of their time in the country after the wedding. And though the time spent alone had been rejuvenating and enlightening all at once — Anthony was, in almost every way, a very attentive husband — returning to London as a bride had been a difficult adjustment. The height of the season was still upon them, and with it a number of events and social responsibilities that now asked much more of Kate than they had before.

And she wasn’t quite sure she was up to snuff, if she were being honest with herself.

Anthony crossed the hallway in three long strides and reached her side. “I turn around for just a moment and suddenly you’re gone. Practically knocked down half of the ton trying to find you.”

Kate’s chest warmed. The ballroom had been so full he would have had to have been keeping quite the close eye on her to notice something like that.

She shook her head immediately, dashing those childish, romantic notions away. He’d been very clear on where their marriage stood, and trying to paint his intentions as anything other than a gentlemanly interest in her well-being would only lead to heartbreak. She was already lucky enough, with the deal she’d been cut; asking for anything more than what Anthony could give her seemed selfish.

Once he was at her side, he tugged her elbow, gently bringing her in front of him. “Did something happen? Why did you leave the ballroom so suddenly?”

Kate began to fiddle with the buttons on his waistcoat, her eyes fixated on a string of fabric that had begun to pull from within one of them. “My, it's warm in here, isn't it? You need to take this to get fixed. I can arrange for your tailor to pass by tomorrow afternoon, if you can manage to clear your schedule. I know y–”

“Kate,” he warned, cutting off her nervous rambling, his voice more insistent. To their left, couples and families donning their finest gowns and suits entered and exited the ballroom, chatting amongst each other easily. “What’s wrong?”

She kept fiddling with the string of fabric, chewing on her lips until she was sure they would end up bleeding. Anthony’s hands came to rest atop hers, limiting her movement. “Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

Kate sighed, gathering the strength needed for her admission. “Anthony, I don’t think I’m quite cut out for this.”

“Cut out for what?”

“Oh, you know, all of... this,” she emphasized, attempting to tug her hands away, but his grip only tightened.

“Marriage? It’s a little late for doubts like those,” he murmured.

“What?” Kate met his eyes then, surprised to find they were much more contemplative than she expected. “No, no. It’s not that. It’s just… well, I don’t really fit in, do I? I’ve never been good at the things that ladies are expected to be good at, have never managed to sit still or act demurely or... or anything like that, really and... well, now that is precisely what is expected of me.”

She paused, chewing her lip, taking her eyes off of Anthony’s to stare at the floor. “I know I’m not the kind of wife you expected. The sort that could smile prettily and charm everyone around her and be a proper viscountess.”

Anthony’s eyes narrowed with concern, his stance tightening. He took her hands firmly in his and held onto them, running a thumb over her gloved knuckles. “Kate, where is this coming from? Did something happen?”

Kate swallowed, her heart beating traitorously. It seemed no matter how hard she tried to convince herself of Anthony’s objectivity within their marriage, her body refused to cooperate. The simple gesture of him listening to her so intently, with such gentleness and care, made her knees weak.

“No one is saying anything, if that’s what you’re worried about,” she sighed, noticing the way he relaxed once more. Her face reddened remembering Lady Whistledown’s most recent column. “In fact… well, it’s obviously a bit ridiculous, but the consensus among the gossips of society is that ours was a love match.”

“Ridiculous,” he repeated softly. Not quite a question, but not quite a statement of fact, either.

“Yes. Ridiculous,” she said, her belly swooping pitifully. “Anyways, clearly, it is not. You need not remind me of that fact. That— it’s fine. But even if they think ours looks like a love match, they must think it’s an ill fitting one. I mean, I'm hardly a catch. I talk too loud, express my opinion too plainly. I keep meeting duchesses and countesses and realizing I... I'm nothing like that, Anthony. And I worry I never will be." 

For a moment, Anthony didn’t reply, and Kate feared he agreed with her. That he, too, saw their marriage as the farce that it was. That the one with doubts was him.

But all he did he was bring her hands up to his mouth, pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles.

“Never speak that way of yourself again, Kate,” he said, his voice serious. “For my sake if not yours. In fact, as your husband, I demand it.”

Kate’s fingers were warm underneath the gloves where he kissed her, her eyes wide.

“I can only speak for myself, but there is absolutely nothing about you that I would wish to change. You are headstrong, passionate, and absolutely everything a proper viscountess should be, all of those other supposed virtues be damned. If someone — anyone — cannot see that, then that is their loss and theirs only." 

He tightened his grip on her hands and made sure she was looking directly at him before continuing. "When you enter rooms you command the respect of others not because you are my wife, or a Bridgerton, but because you're you. And you are more than enough.”

Kate was at a loss for words. She knew that love would never be a part of their relationship. That even if her body felt most alive when it was next to his, even if she laughed and talked with him like she had with no one else before, even if she knew she was already halfway in love with him herself — that those feelings would have to be kept under lock and key.

But then, when he said those things…. When he looked at her like that…

It was, admittedly, a little difficult not to want to wrap her arms around him and show him exactly how she felt.

Kate released her inhibitions and embraced him tightly anyways, if only so that he wouldn’t see the errant tears that threatened to slip out of her eyes.

“Thank you,” she murmured into the velvet of his coat, indulging in the comforting smell of leather and tobacco and Anthony that she’d grown to associate with warmth and belonging. That she’d grown to love, little by little. "You needn't lie to me to make me feel better, but I appreciate it all the same."

“There is nothing I’ve said that I wouldn’t happily repeat in front of all of London,” he said, the smile in his voice evident. One of his hands wrapped around her waist while the other tipped her chin towards his. “Will you obey your husband and never disparage yourself like this again? Can I trust you to do that?”

Kate’s eyes narrowed as she bit down on her own smile. She was like a slice of jelly when it came to him, pliant and willing to do whatever he said. It helped, of course, that all he was asking of her was to be kinder to herself. That he seemed to really, truly believe the words he'd said. That he saw her that way. 

“I suppose.”

He smiled and leaned down to slant his lips against hers, taking advantage of the brief lull in hallway activity. The arm around her waist tightened and brought her closer to him as his lips explored hers tenderly.

“Anthony!” she scolded, giggling against his mouth. “This is most improper. What if someone sees us?”

Leaning his forehead against hers, Anthony smiled. “The gossip about us is already scandalous. Why not add to it?”

Kate laughed but pulled away, shaking her head. As much as she loved kissing Anthony, she'd had enough scandal to last a lifetime. “I don’t think there’s any need for that.”

Straightening her ballgown and tightening her gloves once more, Kate took a deep breath. It was time to go back to the ballroom, where she would once again have to resume the act of viscountess; to pretend that she knew what she was doing, that she belonged there. With Anthony by her side, at least, it almost felt manageable.

Anthony’s smile was warm when he extended his arm out to hers. “Ready to return to the fun, Mrs. Bridgerton?”

Dash it. With him by her side it was certainly manageable. She had a growing suspicion that with him, anything was. Love matches or no. 

She slipped her arm into his, remembering his words. His faith in her.

“Ready.”

[tatooedlaura-blog]

Forgetting

Two in a row, I appear to be on a roll ... this is not for those under 17 and nsfw :)

Sometimes, you need to forget for a little while ...

@today-in-fic

************

It was a stupid retirement gathering at the end of the day, the best way *insert sarcasm here* to end Friday, in Mulder’s opinion. It became especially fun when the assistant director who was doing the retired pointed the pair out, commenting on the Amber Lynn LaPierre case, which he called the crowning achievement in his long and lauded career with the Bureau. Thanking them for their contribution to his legacy, both nodded, smiled, said their polite thank yous while inside, wishing they were literally anywhere but there.

Then came the inevitable discussion about the case, Scully plowing ahead, dealing with most of the comments until Mulder leaned into her, mouth to ear, “I’m going to head to the bathroom. I’ll be back in a minute.”

Nodding, she continued with her end of the present conversation, then two others before she realized he still wasn’t back. Excusing herself, she slipped quietly out the door. Wondering for a moment if he’d fled the building completely or just the room, she thought, then, for some unknown reason, decided to try the stairwell before heading to the basement. Opening the oft-used door at the end of the hall, a beautiful sunset greeted her as well as a lone Mulder sitting on the first step down, quietly contemplating the world while bathed in pink and purple hues.

Sitting carefully beside him, skirt causing minor issues, “I was beginning to wonder if you’d gotten lost.”

Taking an impossibly deep breath before bumping shoulders with her, “do you think, maybe, this could be one of those nights where we get drunk and forget we work together?”

She’d asked him that exact question for the first and only time roughly four months earlier and with a moment’s hesitation to calculate where the nearest liquor store was, she returned the answered he’d been hoping for, “I think it needs to be one of those nights and you’ve got that liquor store on the corner so I vote your place.”

Bumping her a second time, he stood up, nodding his head in the direction of the stairs, “I think we’ve worked long enough today.”

She stood with just a little help from his hand, tugging her skirt straight, “agreed.”

&&&&&&&&&

She picked up the Long Island, the big pre-mix bottle, third shelf, second aisle, they shopped here a little too often, then headed to Mulder’s. Beating him there by ten minutes, she had time to clear the couch and coffee table of littered papers and hamburger wrappers, empty glasses and several pairs of socks. Smiling at the socks, she then filled the table with bottles of water, the Long Island (opened, aerator insert removed for ease of swilling) and a roll of paper towel because she knew he’d be stopping for Subway and they never sent him home with napkins.

Scully then had time to contemplate the first time they’d mentioned their question out loud. She honestly didn’t want to think about the string of events that led to her request but that night had been Rum and Coke and sitting on his couch, not sure how to start anything until Mulder said something so quiet she had to turn to hear him repeat his statement.

She ran into his mouth and from there, they’d spent a chaste 87 minutes alternating between drinking, making out, water interludes sporadic, straight rum by the end, coke chaser when they remembered until the week’s worth of tension left her shoulders, muscles warm and relaxed, lips swollen, hands never traveling below her neck except to turn her at the waist for a better angle.

Heads thoroughly spinning by the time the pair pulled apart in a mutually silent agreement that it was time, Scully went in for another kiss before looking at him blurrily, enjoying their warm, humid silence which Mulder only broke to ask, “couch or bed? I’ll take whichever you don’t want.”

Smiling at him, she stretched, much like a cat, limbs shaking, back curving, “couch is fine.”

Logistics figured a few minutes later, both were crashed in their respective beds, soundly asleep through the remainder of the night.

Mulder made it home a minute later, returning Scully to present day, and she took the bags of food from him, carrying them to the kitchen while he shed shoes, jacket, button down, leaving him in a crew-neck white t-shirt and mismatched socks. Following her into the kitchen, he grabbed the open bottle from the coffee table as he passed. Swigging deep, he handed it to her, “premix. I appreciate you more and more every day.”

“Why take the time to make it yourself when the Captain has done it for you already?” Seeing the forlorn expression still clear on his face, she turned to look at the counter, measuring up the height before glancing back at him, “help me up here, will you? I’d like to hug you face to face for once.”

Not about to question that request, he popped her up, allowing her time to adjust her skirt before handing her the bottle, “madam.”

Two gulps later, she angled the bottle in his direction, “for the win,” then waved her fingers at him, “come here.”

Obeying, he was in her arms, as close as possibly given counter and thigh restriction from skirt. Holding her had an instant effect on his blood pressure, his psyche, his heart rate and brain function, calm washing over him the longer he touched her. Not enough for him at the moment, however, he scooted her closer to the edge of the counter, skirt hiking up further, her thighs pressing his sides. About to do something about this, Scully did it for him, mouth on his neck, lips against pulse, tongue running lightly over skin. Kissing her way up his neck, across his jaw, she found his mouth, neck twisting for best access and without thought, legs locking around him, ankle hook completing the loop.

He would not be arguing.

Staying there another minute, he decided, given the course of the evening, to take creative license and wrapping arms around her waist, picked her up, moving her to the couch without breaking contact. She snagged the bottle as he moved them past it and knowing he had to set her down because sitting down with her like this would break her ankles and nobody needed that tonight, Scully grinned as she slid to the floor, her skirt staying stuck to her upper thighs. Another three deep swallows from the bottle, she handed it to Mulder, watching his perfectly sculpted throat down five, “next time we come up for air, water break.”

“Agreed.” Sitting right down on the couch, he expected her to drop beside him but instead, she wiggled the skirt a little higher and climbed onto his lap, “last time, I had a crick in my neck. I’m not dealing with that again.”

Hands firmly on her waist, he smiled, “I like your thinking.”

Mouth immediately back on his, he managed to keep his hands to himself until the liquor began buzzing his brain, separating thought from consequence but keeping intact decorum at its most rudimentary, his hands hesitantly shifting four inches above her waist, still above her shirt until Scully pulled back, whispering into his mouth, “I don’t mind.”

He didn’t take full advantage of the situation but the simple feeling of running his hands up and down her back made him feel like he’d just won the lottery, over silk blouse, ridge of bra back, imaginary outline of existing tattoo. Another few minutes and Scully moved away, lips red, cheeks pink, eyes bright as she reached behind her, breasts jutting into Mulder’s face, looking for water. Drinking down half a bottle, she handed the rest to Mulder, “it’s getting warm in here.”

Managing to keep his eyes mostly on hers, “that okay?”

Tossing the empty water bottle behind her, she then took up the Long Island, another two deep pulls before offering it to her partner, “very good.” After he drank, she deposited it back on the table and returned like a magnet to his mouth, her hands now in and through his hair, cradling his ears, thumbs running over temples, hips sliding forward until a minute later, she stood up, “I still have most of my faculties and I’m making a request.” She wavered once as the room tilted ever so slightly, “this skirt is irritating the hell out of me. Would you mind if I take it off?”

With a grin, he fell in love withher all over again, “no, that’s fine.”

“Thanks.” Skirt hitting the floor a moment later, her blouse hung low enough not to reveal anything of interesting importance and settling back on his lap, she nodded at him, “much better.”

“I’m glad.”

This time, when she re-settled, she re-settled closer to him, his obvious arousal at the whole situation not bothering her in the slightest, unknowingly grinding once against him before commencing with their previous activities.

Liquor working its magic, Mulder decided that given she was now in her underwear on his lap, that afforded him hands on ass, which elicited a tandem ‘hhmmmm’ from both and another inch hip-slide forward. Deciding what the hell, he then moved his hands up under her shirt, finding warm skin and bumping backbone, hands callous-rough as they danced over rib and ridge. Feeling her smile, he felt her leave his lips, moving down his chin to his Adam’s Apple, mouthing it several times before following down to his shirt collar, then sitting back, putting welcome pressure on particular parts, “it is only fair that since I have no skirt, you need no shirt.”

He loved that she lost her contractions when she drank. Apostrophes went out the window for some reason, all words spoken precisely and slurry but never contracted. Sitting up immediately, he pulled the offending garment off and dropped it to the couch beside them, “sounds fair indeed.”

Another two mouthfuls of Long Island for both, her hands ran immediately over his chest, her deep breath and stuttered sigh telling him more than words ever could, fingers playing over his nipples, tongue tracing his collarbone. It was when she gripped his sides and smashed herself down on him, favorite parts aligning, that he finally let out a moaning groan, “Scully.”

Whispering in his ear, “was that good?”

“If you’re trying to kill me, yes.”

Sitting back again, she wiggled a few more times, lighter yet oddly, more intense. Quick glance at the clock across the dimly lit room, she looked down at him, his gaze filled with unmistakable adoration, “it has been over an hour, need a break?”

“I will never need a break from you.”

Reaching back, she snagged another water, drinking half again and waiting until Mulder finished it to toss it the way of the first empty. Next, more liquor went down, bottle half gone at this point before, “would you mind if I took the blouse off? This thing holds heat like you would not believe.”

Words gone, head nodded, her shirt landed on the table, sweat glistening above and below white cotton bra but before he could process more than half a reverent look, he had her face pulled back to his, hands sliding down her slowly cooling back and right past the top of her underwear, bare hands on bare ass in under a second.

She did not complain, rocking a rhythm on him that was making him see stars.

Everything was logical to them up to this point. The logic of six years and half a bottle of Long Island Ice Tea but whatever and Mulder’s next suggestion followed their logical pursuit. It took a few minutes to form the idea, then the sentence, but pulling away from her mouth, whimpering either internally or for the world to hear, he had to share it with her, “um, so as much as I am loving this, there are parts of me that are dying because they are trapped, wonderfully so but still friction-ly, and are … shit, Scully, the zipper of my pants is about to cause some damage.”

“Hell. Okay.” She stood immediately and hips still moving in some sort of fluid motion which could very well hold Mulder’s attention until the end of time, he took advantage and lifting his butt, soon was sitting there in boxers, happy for relief and unembarrassed by his obvious reaction to her.

She admired for a moment, then settled right back on him, body pressed firmly against all available Mulder.

His hands moved to her hips, moving her against him, the rhythm of his mouth getting erratic as all attention moved elsewhere. Scully was having her own amount of trouble holding focus and when his hands moved to unclasp her bra, she could have sang the Halleluiah chorus had she thought to leave his lips.

Needing a final pull of liquor before anything else, she sat back on his thighs, three mouthful going down her throat first, then Mulder took four, capping the bottle and dropping it to the floor before his mouth moved not to hers again but to her breasts, taking in his dreamt of mouthful, other hand filled with other breast as Scully shut her eyes, shifting and sliding against him, parts finally making solid contact and she stood suddenly, swaying as she shed her last piece of clothing, then demanded Mulder’s boxers with a silent outstretched hand and begging eyes. Obliging, she was back on him,  wetter than wet, rubbing hard head against aching clit, then, she slid back and forth against him, Mulder’s mouth latched back to her breast and his hands carrying her forward and back. Letting go of her, he told her, alcohol slur evident, “I am so close to that spot, Scully. Another inch and we could … just … we could.”

Leaning forward, she slipped her teeth around his earlobe, tugging lightly before sucking for a moment, then whispering, “there cannot be liquor involved when that happens. Sorry.”

There was absolutely no reason for her to apologize and he told her as such, “but can something else happen because unless you stop moving, it’s going to anyways and I’d rather have permission to do so.”

His strained voice made her grin and sitting back once again, she ran one hand down her belly and bracing with the other against his knee, she began rubbing her clit, “oh, I am good with everything else.”

Needing to ask one last time, “do you need any more Tea?”

“I have not got time for that now.” And she rubbed a little faster.

Wrapping his hand around himself, their knuckles kept bumping until they found a matched rhythm and as her muscles clenched and her head dropped back, he came as well, all over himself and her, not caring about anything in the moment but his Scully.

Then their combined mess along with the sweat generated by the last hour and a half suddenly got the better of his ass’s grip on the couch. She moved slightly, he shot forward, feet unable to catch him, and both, for a fleeting moment, wondered if there was an earthquake as they slid to the ground, Scully’s back sliding against the coffee table edge, Mulder’s bare butt landing on a crackling water bottle.

He managed to get an arm around her though, so she didn’t hit the floor at the worst angle ever and ‘sluggish but still there’ reflexes on her part had her move enough not to break his dick, softening but still hard enough to cause some trouble had it been bent sideways under her drunken weight.

Both then sat there in silence, until, of course, the giggles set in.

It took a good five minutes to get things under control and not set the other off with a simple look. Scully, now wrapped in one of Mulder’s many blankets, looked from the ¾ empty Long Island bottle to the water in her hand, “can I stay here tonight?”

Also in a blanket, and equally worried about the amount they’d consumed, he opened two more bottles of water for them, the world beginning to tilt again, “like I’d let you drive anywhere after that much Captain.”

Looking over at him, grin wide as she missed her mouth with the water bottle on the first try but making it the second, she swallowed half before speaking, “for a minute there, I actually did forget we worked together.”

“Me, too.”

Shifting up to give him a kiss on the cheek, she swayed into him, forgetting how to sit back upright momentarily, “now, if you would be so kind as to find me a pillow and another blanket, I am going to go clean up, then come back here and go to bed because if I do not lay down very soon, I am going to tip over even more than I am now.”

Contractions still gone, he knew she wasn’t kidding about the tipping thing, the alcohol coursing through her veins would have her asleep in seconds and sporting one hell of a headache tomorrow. Carefully standing, he got her up and to the bathroom, blanket firmly in place and then, collecting some pajama pants and a t-shirt for her, he handed them through the partially open door, ignoring the sounds of her peeing, then the water running.

Seriously, how many times could he fall in love in one evening?

Soon, she was back, curled on the couch, Oscar the Grouch shirt in place, blankets piled high, head deep in down pillow. Beckoning him to her level with her finger, he had to kneel, knowing if he leaned, he’d fall, “what’s up?”

“I love you, Mulder. You are my best friend and I love you.”

Kissing her forehead, he struggled to stand back up, “I love you and you are my best friend, too.” Pointing to the table, “I left you an empty pot so if you puke, do it in that, please, all right?”

“Do not forget one for yourself.”

Holding up his own, “got it. G’night.”

She was already asleep.

He would dream well tonight.

&&&&&&&&&&&

Since the curtains and blinds were closed, the light didn’t wake either of them until late afternoon. Scully was up before Mulder and after downing several glasses of water and what felt like a handful of aspirin, she opened her forgotten Subway, settling with it on the couch, remote in hand.

Mulde wandered out a few minutes later and stared at her for a moment, then retrieved his sandwich as well, grabbing the bottle of aspirin before sitting down beside her, tugging half her blanket over his knees, “hi.”

“Hi.”

“What are we watching?”

“The Flintstones.”

Giving her wild hair and dark hickey on her neck a good, long look, he aimed a grin at her, “mind if I join you?”

Taking in a matching bruise on Mulder’s neck and his dancing eyes, “your couch.”

Settling in a little better, he unwrapped his roast beef on white, “so, honest answer, please. Should we be embarrassed or anything about last night?”

Scully thought while she chewed, then smiling crookedly, “the only thing I’m embarrassed about is having ended up on the floor.” Looking at him critically, “what about you? Honest answer.”

“Mostly I’m unnerved by how much my ass was sweating, in all seriousness.” Taking his first bite, he felt calmer than he had in forever, “want to stay over again tonight?”

“Sure. I hadn’t planned on leaving this couch until tomorrow at the earliest.”

“Mexican for dinner?”

“As long as they deliver.”

“They do.”

Mid-chew, she leaned over and kissed his t-shirted shoulder, “yay.”