#i think they tried to make it look vintage??? which yes they nailed that part jhhjhg but they're still ugly 😭

[kaserolly]

Me @ Ferrari regarding the new suits for Monza

[lulu-zodiac]

Title: Blue Ink

Pairing: Castiel/Dean Winchester

Tags: College AU, Tattoo Artist!Cas, Fluff, Pining, First Kiss

Summary: And then, with the same tender carefulness with which he’d just been tattooing Dean, Cas leans in and kisses him.

If you want to be added to my fic tag list, let me know! <3.

“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” Dean eyes the needle in Cas’s hand apprehensively, suddenly feeling very vulnerable. They’re both sitting facing each other on Dean’s bed, the lights low and Zeppelin playing softly on the record player.

Cas’s blue gaze flickers up to catch his, amused and reassuring all at once. “Dean. You’ve watched me do this plenty of times.” It’s true: Cas trained as a tattoo apprentice for part of his art course last semester, and since then has informally tattooed a bunch of their friends at parties, as well as himself. Dean has been pestering him to give him one for months.

“I know, I know,” Dean hedges, fiddling with the bedspread. “It’s just –”

“It’s normal to be nervous, you know,” Cas tells him, “You don’t need to do this if you don’t want to,” his eyes are suddenly serious, regarding Dean closely, soft blue and familiar in a way that tugs at Dean’s heart. “And if you want to stop at any point, I’ll stop.”

“Christ, I’m not some blushing virgin, Cas,” Dean rolls his eyes, mainly to cover up the way his heart is suddenly fluttering in his chest. “Just get on with it, okay?”

Cas rolls his eyes right back at Dean and rolls up the sleeves of his vintage patterned shirt, exposing the intricate ink on his own arms. “Alright, give me your arm, then.”

Hesitantly, Dean holds it out and Cas’s fingers grasp it reassuringly, warm and dexterous and familiar. His heart rate picks up further, not entirely from the prospect of being tattooed for the first time. Swallowing, he watches Cas swab his bicep with alcohol and pick up the marker that’s sitting on Dean’s bedspread.

Cas leans in, head bowed in concentration, fingers skilled and precise as he inks the outline of the sigil on Dean’s skin. This close, Dean can smell the distinct muskiness of Cas’s skin, the way the patchouli incense he always burns clings to his tousled hair. Dean has to force himself to concentrate on the image taking form under Cas’s touch, resisting the urge to lean in closer than he should and do something monumentally stupid like brush Cas’s hair away from his face or kiss him.

“Alright?” Cas’s low, gravelly voice breaks Dean’s spiralling thoughts. He glances up fleetingly, a flash of dark blue that has Dean’s heart racing. They’ve been friends for years now, but the rush is still the same, the thrill of being this close to Cas. Fleetingly, he wonders if it’ll ever change.

Wordlessly, Dean nods.

They’d met at freshers’, at some house party thrown by someone Dean doesn’t remember. Dean had known he was a goner the moment he glanced up and found Cas’s blue gaze on him, quiet and intent, head tilted slightly, watching Dean like he was fascinated, like he could somehow really see him. They’d flirted that night, but when Dean next ran into him Cas had made a whole speech about not wanting to date anyone, and so Dean had tried to put how Cas made him feel out of his mind. By the time Cas finally dating people last year, they’d already fallen into the pattern of friends and Dean couldn’t stand the risk of losing him to some stupid crush that had no guarantee of working out.

Slowly, though, it’s felt increasingly like they’re edging into this, into something more. Cas spends most of his evenings round at Dean’s, and Dean often looks up to find Cas’s gaze on him, as intent as that first time but laced with something different now; warmer, heavier. It makes Dean’s stomach do cartwheels. It’s got to the point where he doesn’t trust himself not to say something both of them might regret, so he’s started deliberately distancing himself from Cas to protect their friendship. This is the first time they’ve been alone like this for a few weeks, and the quiet tension between them seems to have deepened rather than dissipated. With a not insignificant degree of panic, Dean wonders how he’s going to get through this, Cas’s hands all over him, without doing something stupid.

“Tell me about the design again,” Cas says quietly, interrupting Dean’s internal panic. The cold wet nib of the pen tickles Dean’s skin, slow and careful. Dean watches his hands move expertly, long fingers with chipped black nail polish that Dean finds inexplicably sexy.

“Uh, it’s from the mythology on divine beings I’m looking at for my dissertation,” Dean forces himself to look away from Cas and breathe, trying to calm the thump of his heart and the heat blossoming through him. “An ancient sigil. Enochian, it’s called.”

“Like this?” Cas is frowning, examining his work.

“Yeah,” Dean nods, a little breathlessly. “That’s perfect.”

“Alright,” Cas clicks the cap on the marker and looks up, blue eyes glittering, “Ready?”

Dean swallows, “As I’ll ever be.”

Cas smiles, tightens his grip on Dean’s bicep and leans in again, this time with the needle. “First few moments will sting, but after that it’ll fade, I promise,” he says, eyes searching Dean’s. “Let me know if you want to stop.”

Dean nods, biting his lip. The first pierce of the needle does sting, but it’s not as bad as he imagined, and it soon numbs into vague, prickly discomfort. The downside of this is that Dean isn’t as distracted from Cas’s proximity as he’d like. The sooty sweep of Cas’s lashes, his full lips slightly parted in concentration, his rumpled hair. He’s wearing his shirt unbuttoned and Dean can see a distressing amount of smooth, toned skin, the tangle of pendants round his neck, including the one Dean gave him for his last birthday. Cas had been quiet when he’d opened it, had hugged Dean so hard it hurt a little. It makes Dean’s chest ache just thinking about it now, about this fleeting moment where Cas had just looked at him like he wanted him too, like something was going to happen. But neither of them had made a move, and Dean has always wondered if he’d read too much into it.

“Okay?” Cas asks quietly above the sound of the needle, not looking up.

Dean nods dazedly, before he remembers Cas can’t see him. “Yes – yeah,” he mumbles stupidly, dizzied by the strong grip Cas has around his arm, the tenderness in his touch and the care with which he tattoos Dean. “Yeah.”

“You’re doing so good,” Cas murmurs, and god, he’s so close that Dean can feel the warmth of Cas’s breath against his skin along with the heat that blossoms through him at Cas’s praise. “So good, Dean,” he strokes his thumb along Dean’s skin where he’s holding his arm in place, sending sparks shooting through Dean.

“Uh,” Dean grunts, because Cas’s praise has turned him from low level horny to uncomfortably hard in his jeans. He shifts slightly on the bed, breathing hard. His arm is aching dully, but all he can think about is Cas’s hands on him, Cas warm and familiar and so goddamn close Dean feels dizzy with the proximity. He watches dazedly as black ink slowly appears on his skin under Cas’s careful hands.

“It’s halfway there, almost,” Cas glances up, maybe planning on reassuring Dean – but something unreadable passes over his expression as he takes in Dean’s face, the flush Dean can feel on his cheeks and how he knows his pupils must be blown wide.

For several, long beats they just look at each other, and it suddenly feels impossibly quiet, even with Zeppelin humming in the background. Cas hasn’t let go of where his hand curls around Dean’s bicep, palm a brand of heat against his shoulder. The sexual tension in the air between them is almost unbearable, years of almost crammed into a single, charged moment.

Dean watches the way Cas’s eyes darken slowly, the way his tongue darts out to wet his lips unconsciously. He always looks gorgeous, but right now in the soft light of Dean’s bedroom with dishevelled hair and hooded eyes and inked skin, he’s so beautiful Dean aches with it.

“Cas –”

“I’m going to finish this,” Cas says, at last, voice even rougher than usual, sending a thrill of arousal through Dean, “And then I’m going to kiss you.”

Dean lets out a sound that might be a breath of surprise or a groan, staring at Cas wide-eyed, heart pounding. Because this, this is all he’s wanted since he first laid eyes on Cas all those years ago and he can’t quite believe it. “Yes,” he murmurs, dazedly. “God, Cas – yes.”

Warmth mixes with the heady darkness of Cas’s expression, a small smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. “Okay,” he strokes his thumb across Dean’s bicep and turns back to his work, the smile even wider than it was a moment ago.

Dean’s smiling too, he realises, so wide it should hurt but it doesn’t. He winces fleetingly at the sharp point of the needle again, but it soon fades into the background. The muscles in Cas’s forearms are taut, tensed under their ink. Dean looks at the constellation points of ursa major, two lines of Latin poetry, the wildflowers. It doesn’t do anything to help his current state, looking at Cas’s soft, warm skin, picturing it against his on these sheets. Knowing that Cas wants that now too, that it’s not just a fantasy. That maybe Cas has fantasised about him like this too. Dean has to bite his lip against a groan as Cas’s grip tightens slightly, blue ink slowly blossoming under his fingertips.

Cas has moved closer, leaning over Dean to work at a slightly harder to reach spot. One of his thighs is pressed against Dean’s in a warm line that sends arousal shooting through Dean. He shifts slightly against Cas, pressing closer, heart thumping. From the sharp intake of breath, he knows Cas can tell how worked up he’s getting, how affected he is by this.

Cas lets out a sudden breath against Dean’s skin, as though he’s been holding it, and his hand tightens on Dean’s arm again. Dean hears himself let out a sound this time, helpless, rough and low in the back of his throat, and watches Cas’s throat work as he swallows, jaw set in determined concentration. “Cas,” Dean breathes out, shifting again, cock uncomfortably hard in his jeans. “Cas –”

Abruptly, Cas, sits back on his haunches, breathing hard. “I can’t concentrate like this,” his eyes are darker than Dean’s ever seen them, a flush just visible creeping up the exposed skin of his chest. He lets go and sets his materials on the bedside table without moving away from Dean, without letting go. Slowly, not breaking eye contact, Cas leans back in until they’re even closer than before, both breathing unsteadily. Then, with the same tender carefulness with which he’d just been tattooing Dean, Cas leans in and kisses him.

Dean’s heart fumbles a beat in his chest, his world implodes quietly, infinitely. Cas’s mouth is hot and wet and perfect. Dean tangles his hands in Cas’s tousled hair like he’s always wanted to, tugs him closer, all warmth and racing hearts. Cas lets out a low groan against Dean’s mouth and then suddenly Dean is on his back on the bedspread, breathing heavily. It’s the same one they’ve sat on together night after night, all those times Dean wondered if this would ever happen. It should feel surreal, but it doesn’t. It just feels startlingly real, like this was always inevitable.

They kiss until Dean’s jaw is aching, until they’re both breathless and grinding against each other like they’re still teenagers. When they pull apart a little to catch their breath, Cas’s eyes are shining with the same quiet happiness threatening to overwhelm Dean, full of the same longing that Dean has spent years trying to hide. Dean’s heart suddenly feels so full it hurts, and the moment turns serious, quiet, as they lose themselves in each other’s gazes just like that first night they met. Gently, Dean traces the line of Cas’s jaw, and when he pulls him in again, the kiss is searing, poignant, so full of promise it should terrify Dean, but it only makes his heart beat harder. Cas’s hands are all over his skin, more memorable than any ink.

[dewitty1]

Muggle Technology and Heroism

TommyLane

Chapters: 16/16 Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter Characters: Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, Pansy Parkinson Additional Tags: Slow Burn, Roommates, Pining, Squirt Gun Fights, James Bond Fanboy!Draco Malfoy, Sharing a Bed, Explicit Sexual Content, Drinking and Dancing, A Five Step Plan of Seduction, A Mysterious Absence Of Plot Outside Of Their Relationship, Dialogue Heavy, Angst and Humor Summary:

Draco Malfoy wasn’t exactly the best roommate Harry’s ever had. The man tended to watch way too much James Bond and his obsession with muggle technology not only rivaled Arthur Weasley’s but more often than not ended with Harry trying to assure him that the appliances weren’t out to get him. Then there was the little fact that Harry was hopelessly in love with him while Draco remained completely unaware, bringing nameless men home night after night.

But Harry loved his life and was somewhat (as long as he doesn’t actually think about it) content enough in the way things were going. That is until Draco’s old boyfriend comes sweeping back into town – making Draco breakfast and fixing the remote control before Harry can and forcing him to realize that if he doesn’t do something soon, that he might lose the man he loves before he even gets a chance to ever actually have him.

Excerpt:  

It was odd to think that maybe he had learned the most about the other man by watching him watch James Bond. Learned the most by the things he purchased and how he used them to relate to Harry… “Draco, the thing is…you’re a bit difficult to understand, you know. You always have been, you were always good at keeping me guessing. Even when we were young, but I think it’s worse now. Harder…to really know what you’re thinking.” Draco frowned at his drink, a deep line carved into his forehead. “It’s called having decorum Potter.” Harry shrugged. “Maybe. Or maybe you just don’t know how to say what you’re thinking…what your feeling.” The blonde shifted before pulling his bottom lip between his teeth for a second, a muscle in his jaw twitching. “Is this about me fucking around again? Your odd roundabout way of telling me I’m a slut with some sort of emotional complex?” “No.” “Good. I don’t much care for that word.” “Slut?” “Complex, makes me think of fucking shrinks and their idiot views on the way my mind turns.” Draco flicked the cap he had been rolling absentmindedly between his fingers into the grass, a sneer on his lips that hinted that maybe there had been psychiatrists in his past - making him lay on leather couches and trying to analyze him as he glared and told them to fuck off in a number of different languages. The mental image lurched both painful and humorous in his stomach, a small smile contending on his lips as he pictured a younger Draco with his snarky mouth and petulant air. He never would have put himself in therapy, it had to have been a part of his parole after the war. God, Harry almost felt sorry for the men and women who had been assigned to his case. But he was getting sidetracked with his hands sweating against his leg, his heart pounding in his chest, and he needed to stop mentally stalling and gather his courage and do what he should have done days ago. Weeks ago. Months ago. Years ago… He fidgeted as he fingered the bottle and cleared his throat. “Well in any case I’m not talking about all the men. Or about Ethan. I’m talking about you and…and me.” Draco silently shifted his gaze to meet Harry’s, his lips wet from the beer and his eyes heavy, his jaw sliding forward like he was physically blocking his mouth from forming any audible words. He looked determined and lost, confused and uncertain all at the same time. Harry smiled softly, his fingers reaching to lightly touch Draco’s jaw, his courage pumping stronger, pulling him deeper when the other man didn’t pull away - didn’t even look away, not for a second, his gray eyes darkening and drowning out the sound of nature around them. “Harry -” His voice quivered with uncertainly, his eyes darting down as Harry brushed his thumb along the outer swell of the other man’s bottom lip. “I still remember where we were when things changed for me. We were at Pansy’s, I think it was her birthday and you were wearing those navy robes -” “I don’t wear navy.” Draco interjected and Harry grinned as he felt his body tip nearer, his blood pumping hot through his veins and in his ears and he wondered if Draco could hear it. If he could hear the beat of his heart, the thrum in his blood. He wondered if Draco felt it rushing through his own body in a matching rush of nerves and excited anticipation. They were a match in so many things, opposites in everything else, aligning perfectly, complementing wonderfully. Where Harry lacked Draco stood strong and the same was true for the other way around….and in this, Merlin, Harry could only pray they matched. “You did. They were new, you kept tugging at the sleeve when you thought no one was looking and you unbuttoned the top collar as we were talking. You were complaining about the increased price of Chinese chomping cabbage.” The sun had been shining hot, Draco’s face had been flushed a lovely pink, his tone an exasperated huff as he batted at invisible insects and tried to not pull on the collar of his robes that Harry was pretty sure had been a gift from someone. The back garden had been crowded with few people he knew and dozens that Draco did but still the blonde sequestered himself against a tree and chose to lament his potion sells because of the damn fucking cabbage to Harry. They had ended up drinking too much and Draco had smiled sloppily over at him as they snuck round the house and into the wine cellar - where Draco preceded to unburden Pansy’s family of various bottles of prestigious vintage. It was the night Draco vowed to turn Harry into a wine aficionado (or at least not such of an uncultured plebeian who thought wine from a box was quite good). The night Harry had tasted his first Merlot that he actually liked and the night he had shown Draco his first film (Dr. No…which in hindsight probably wasn’t the wisest move). The night he finally admitted to himself as he listened to Draco huff and rant and swat at flies that he had fallen for the other man. “Chomping cabbage?” Draco murmured and Harry could have sworn that the other man’s breath was a little shallower, his cheeks just a little pinker. “That…that was years ago.” Harry nodded and lifted his gaze from Draco’s lips to his eyes. “Yes.” Draco sucked in a breath and blinked quickly, the sun sinking beneath the horizon in one last splash of dying color around them. “You’re being rather enigmatic, Potter. It’s highly unnerving.” He whispered. “No, it’s simply really.” Harry leaned closer as he repeated his words from earlier at the tailors, his thumb brushing along the blondes jaw before slipping his hand down to curve possessively around the back of the man’s neck. He tipped his head, bringing them close enough that their breath mingled and warmed the space between them as he visually traced the sharp angles of his cheeks, the slightly parted fullness of his lips, his impossible gray eyes - the flecks of blue and gold bright up close. “Don’t be with Ethan. Because things have changed. For a long time…I’ve wanted…” He trailed off and swallowed, his courage faltering even though there was no turning back - not with his hand holding his face, his gaze full of the words that weren’t coming off his tongue but with the half confession ringing loud and clear between them anyway. Not with their lips nearly brushing and Draco’s eyelashes fluttering like he couldn’t decide if he should close them or stare wide eyed at him until he inevitably went crossed eyed. “What do you want?” Draco breathed and there was nothing hard or needled about his tone - his voice flayed open and making Harry’s heart constrict as something fluttered in his stomach. “You know. You have to know already…” He murmured in a breathy gush that pushed out of him and before he could ruin it with his own fumbling stutters, Harry breathed deep and did what he’d been dying to do for years now - he leaned in and kissed him, slanting his lips over Draco’s whose parted in a breath of surprise that got muffled and lost inside him. He distantly heard and felt Draco’s drink clatter to the ground as his grip slipped and spilled beer over the ground, his pale hand pressing flat against Harry’s chest like he was going to push him away for all but a moment before his fingers curled tight into his shirt - scratching his skin and heightening his senses further. Using his free hand, Harry’s fingers found their way into Draco’s hair, twisting in the silky locks and pulling gently, his mouth opening wider as Draco’s nails sank deeper, his heart soaring with the feel and taste and reality that he wasn’t being shoved away. He pressed closer, savored Draco’s quiet gasp, his tongue sneaking out to press against his as he kissed him harder, deeper, closer - his hands trying to tug him ever nearer as Draco let out a strangled broken sound. “Harry…” He whispered in a dizzy sort of manner, his hand that wasn’t squished between them coming up to rest tentatively against Harry’s cheek - first one finger, then two, the third tapping in an offbeat rhythm. Trembling. “Don’t be with him. Or anyone else.” Harry muttered between kisses with Draco’s eyes squeezed tightly closed, his lashes dusting his cheeks. “Be with me.” There were more words on his tongue, things that needed to be said, that needed to be made clear, but the man’s lips were like a drug and he was instantly addicted - every nerve in his body catching fire as the other man tensed, let out another soft sound that cracked in the middle, and pressed closer on his own accord. Kissing him. Draco Malfoy was kissing him and for once Harry wasn’t dreaming.

♡*(ू•‧̫•ू⑅)♡⋆*ೃ:.✧

[patrick-hockstutter]

Modern!Bowers Gang:

Patrick:

Really into cinematography and photography of the unsettling

Never captions his Instagram posts

Goes live on Instagram a lot, even though people really wished he wouldn’t

Makes art out of dead animals or animal bones he finds

Think Banksy, but with roadkill

He’ll take some (somehow) tasteful photos of them, post them, then leave the scene there for some unexpecting bystander to find

Has a nosering (fight me)

Never uses incognito mode

If someone happens to stumble upon his search history, he’s not paying their therapy bill

He likes reading smut more than he likes watching porn

A ps4 guy

Loves spooky games like Resident Evil, Silent Hill, Until Dawn and Death Stranding

He’s not really into school, but he surprisingly reads a lot when he’s alone in his room

Only about things he likes though

Abnormal psych, criminal psych, and sometimes some zoology (u kno y)

Watches serial killer documentaries like he’s paid to

Listens to grunge, nu metal, and 80s alt

Won’t admit it, but sometimes listens to Joji

He’s not super into emo music, but he’s the only one who will listen to it with Victor (he fckn vibes to Brand New)

Ironically uses a Zune

Has an Android but lowkey wishes he had an iPhone

Doesn’t have a computer, just jailbreaks/hacks the school issued laptop

Has a black line tattooed around some of his fingers, one of his wrists, and the shell of his ear

Has a foot tattoo

Has a fucking Juul

Watches LeafyIsHere on YouTube (tell me I’m wrong)

Spends too much time on Reddit

Wears flannels, skinny jeans, and Vans (a beanie if he’s cold)

Mostly cycles through the same three or four outfits

Wears the same pair of Vans every single day

Victor:

Big into aromatherapy

He uses lavender soaps and has an essential oil diffuser in his room

Uses incognito mode to watch Vampire Diaries

A Nintendo ass b i t c h

He has the gray Switch Lite

He brings his Switch with him everywhere (yes he’s that guy)

But what else are you gonna do when you wanna ignore Patrick?

Watches conspiracy theories about ghosts, cryptids, and aliens

Also big into podcasts (mostly true crime and conspiracy ones)

He listens to them on his headphones while he takes walks or draws

Posts his drawings on Tumblr

Does art streams on Twitch when he gets really bored

Has an eyebrow piercing (but it’s a small stud one, not a ring)

Has little tattoos on his hands

Wears bomber jackets, skinny jeans, joggers, army jackets, converse, and combat boots

The boy has style okay

Had an emo phase but still listens to the music (especially Tiny Moving Parts)

The emo phase was pretty short because Henry made fun of him so much

He just fucking liked MCR and Taking Back Sunday a lot, okay?

And Pierce The Veil and Sleeping With Sirens, but he doesn’t readily admit that

Now mostly listens to new wave, synth pop, and lofi hiphop

His favorite bands are Drab Majesty and Choir Boy (look up their new album btw)

Has a black iPhone and a space gray MacBook Pro

Uses Apple Music

Vapes, but only fruity flavors

Watches BoJack Horseman

Doesn’t really eat fast food but never passes up an M&M McFlurry

Paints his (and Patrick’s) nails black

One time Patrick caught him doing a facemask, so Patrick put one on and started chasing him around screaming as a joke

Cue: hmm… this feels kinda good tho

So now Victor and Patrick have secret mini spa days

Drives a Subaru

Belch:

Makes Spotify playlists like he’s paid to

He’s just really good at putting songs together

He tried to get into music theory, but he wasn’t one for actually making his own songs

Really into metal (obvi) but also likes some classic rock and punk stuff

Has records hung up side by side all around his room where the wall meets the ceiling

Still buys CDs

His Instagram feed is full of vintage cars and custom import cars

Fast and Furious is his favorite movie series

His favorite shows are Sons of Anarchy and The Walking Dead

But he also loves early 2000s comedies

Has a mini projector to watch movies on his room wall

Wears band tees, flannels, jean jackets, Carhartt stuff, d a d  h a t s

Really wants a tattoo but always gets nervous

Uses incognito mode to watch porn and buy some of his band tees from Hot Topic

Only one in the gang that uses Facebook (Mama Huggins made him so he could keep in contact with family)

Follows a few meme pages but also some cooking ones so he can send his mom any cool recipes he finds

Victor lowkey makes fun of him for actually using the Facebook page

Invests money in really good headphones and car speakers

Has a black iPhone

It’s always at 20% battery cause it’s always connected to his headphones, Bluetooth speaker, or car stereo

Him and Victor FaceTime when they’re bored

Sometimes they won’t even say much, they just like the over the phone company

Doesn’t smoke, but sometimes hits Vic’s vape

A social vaper if you will

Watches Idubbbz and Filthy Frank on YouTube

His favorite fast food place is Wendy’s

Not really into video games but fucking slays at Guitar Hero

And when Rock Band came out nobody saw him for like two weeks

Has a black Hydroflask with band stickers on it

Henry:

He plays a lot of Xbox

Mostly Halo, COD, Destiny, any first-person shooter really

Baits people on Xbox Live cause he thinks it’s hilarious

He’s also a fucking cyberbully but we all expected that

Has Victor’s old iPhone

Never fucking charges it

He’ll text you back in 3-5 business days (if at all)

And if you try to call him he’ll block your number

Plays iMessage games like cup pong and 8 ball with Belch

The only social media he uses is Snapchat and Tinder to look at girls

In one of his Tinder photos he’s holding a fish (srrynotsrry)

Doesn’t really listen to too much music

He doesn’t dislike music, just usually prefers to do things in silence

His mind is chaotic enough, he doesn’t need background noise

But he will listen to Cigarettes After Sex and TV Girl on a really low volume when he goes to sleep

Uses incognito mode to pick and choose random soft or angsty songs that he likes to put into a bedtime playlist

Otherwise just listens to whatever Belch listens to

Has a tattoo on his wrist

Takes a lot of drives into the countryside/national forests/mountains with Belch

Takes a lot of scenery photos, but never posts them anywhere or shows anyone except Victor

Still smokes cigarettes (he thinks vaping is douchey)

Watches South Park and American Dad

If he’s willing to spend money to go see a movie, he’s going to an IMAX theater

Sometimes he likes 3D, but most of the time it just hurts his eyes after a while

Longboards everywhere

Needs prescription glasses but refuses to wear them

They’re mostly for reading, which he doesn’t do anyway

But he does listen to audiobooks sometimes

Likes Frappuccinos but will kill you before you find out

He orders them through Uber Eats under a fake name so nobody will find out

BONUS: all four!

Victor still has his childhood GameCube that they play Mario Party, Mario Kart, and Melee on

Henry is banned from playing Mario Party after breaking a controller while beating Patrick with it

Patrick only ever picks Waluigi in Mario Kart and everyone is sick of it

When they play Rock Band Patrick is on bass, Henry plays guitar, Belch absolutely slays the drums, and Vicky boy sings his lil heart out

One night a week they order a shit ton of Dominos and make a drinking game out of watching Vine compilations

Victor does everyone’s birth charts

They collectively made a fake Tinder account on Patrick’s phone and catfish guys with it

They all try to one up each other doing vape tricks yikes

They buy bags of chips and candy from Costco and lounge around eating them on weekends

They’re banned from the city metro busses because Belch’s car was in the shop for a week and that week was hell for every bus driver in the city

[fluffy-lee]

Don’t Push Captain America in the Pool

Part 2 of the series "Vacation."

This is a TICKLE fic. If you're not into that, you don't have to read.

PLATONIC Avengers x reader

Warnings: none

Summary: After arriving at the cabin, the Avengers settle in and begin the fun. An unexpected guest arrives and Y/n pushes Steve in the pool!

Everyone got out of the van and took their bags to their rooms. You were sharing a room with Nat. It was a nice room with two beds with beautiful white comforters and lace pillows, and a bathroom. The cabin had a vintage vibe with classy furniture, and a cozy, homey feel. You were beyond excited to be spending some extra time with Nat. She was your mentor and your relationship with her was similar to the relationship between Tony and Peter. 

  “Nat! This place is beautiful! Look!” You said, standing with your hands on the rims on the window sill, pointing at the gorgeous view of mountains in the distance, giant pine trees scattered around the property, and the sun shining on the blue pool below. It was perfect. 

 Nat chuckled. “It is so pretty.” She smiled, putting her arm around your small shoulders. 

    You both ran down the stairs, and when you turned the corner, you nearly knocked into Peter. Thankfully, his spidey sense warned him and he scooped you up. 

  “Woooah there! Haha someone’s excited!” Peter giggled. 

  “Sorry Pete! I didn’t mean to!” You said smiling up at him. 

  “It’s alright! Guess what! I have my own room and bathroom and it is awesome!” Peter said proudly. He was pretty excited about having his own room and had been telling Mr. Stark how excited he was. 

 “Sorry kid, I uh, just didn’t have the heart to tell you…” Tony sighed. 

 “Tell me what?” Peter asked, with a bit of concern. He set you down at his side.

Suddenly there was a loud thundering noise and a crash outside. Peter’s eyes widened. You knew that sound. You and Peter raced out to the white front porch. 

  “Hello roommate! I am here to keep you company and join you all on your… What do you call it? Vacation! Yes! Hahaha!” Thor laughed, referring to Peter as his roommate. 

  “THOOOOR!” You screamed, running to his arms.

He smiled brightly at you, lifting you up in the air before engulfing you in a big hug. You laughed with glee. You hadn’t seen him in what felt like forever. 

  “My sweet Y/n. I’ve missed you.” He said, kissing your cheek. 

  “I missed you so much.”

  “So uuuh… You’re going to be sharing the room with me?” Peter asked, shifting in his place, his hands resting awkwardly on his hips.

  “Yes! Haha it’s going to be great!” Thor said, tossing his hammer under a tree.

Peter thought “Wow. Sharing a room with a god is pretty freaking awesome. But this might be a disaster.”

  Thor rested you on his hip and carried you inside, following Peter. Thor was greeted by everyone and it was soon decided that it was time to try out the pool. You were helping Tony get dinner started before he tried to kick you out to go have fun and swim. 

  “Tony, I’m having fun with you cooking!” You exclaimed, hugging his waist from behind. 

Tony stopped what he was doing and giggled, turning around in your arms. 

  “I have plenty of help here with Pep, Wanda, and Vision. What is it that you want?” He smiled.

  “Nooothing. Maybe your attention.” You said bashfully. 

  “Really? Are you sure you want my attention?” He challenged, trapping you to his chest and latching his hand on your side. 

You shrieked as he tickled your side harshly in a particularly ticklish spot of yours. 

  “No no no!” You squealed. “I give! I give!” 

Tony let up and pointed out the window. “Go swim! Or I’ll get your belly!” 

  “Okay! Goooosh!” 

You made your way upstairs and changed into your swimsuit and slipped on your flip flops.

  You slid open the screen back door and made your way out to the deck where the pool was. You walked through the tall green grass and up the wooden stairs with your towel tossed over your shoulder. You saw Nat, Bucky, Sam, Steve, and Thor in the pool. No Peter, oddly enough. Bucky climbed out and started approaching you, dripping water all over the deck. 

 “What took you so long? I’ve been dying to throw you in the pool since we got here.” Bucky smirked. 

 “I was avoiding Captain America and the Winter Soldier throwing me in the pool.” You sassed.  Bucky scooped you up and threw you in the pool, but before you hit the water, someone caught you. It was Peter! He was hanging from a web in the tall pine that towered over the pool deck. 

  “Gotcha!” Peter shouted happily. 

You cheered and hugged his neck, while he swung onto the deck with you in his arms. 

  “Nice try, Daddy! But I’ve got Spider-Man on my side!” You bragged. 

Bucky laughed before launching toward a screaming Peter as he chased him all over the deck. 

 Steve stepped out of the pool and towered over you. 

  “Can you run from me, Y/n?” Steve challenged.

 “You? No! But… I can do this!” You pushed him into the pool. 

He made a huge splash and you followed after him. The cold water shocked you, rushing around you and through your hair. The water was chilly at first, but you quickly got used to it and it felt amazing. You came up from under the water and caught your breath, before joining Steve in a fit of giggles. 

  You, Steve, Bucky, Peter, Sam, Nat, and Thor had been swimming for a while and it was currently sunset. 

  “Hey Thor!” You called from where you were sitting on the stairs. 

  “Yes?” He asked, swimming over to you. 

  “Do you want to play mermaids?” 

Steve began howling with laughter at your question. 

  “Why yes of course, Princess! You do need to teach me how to, though.” Thor said, before going on about the many different mermaids he had encountered in his lifetime while your mind, as well as Peter’s, exploded over the fact that they were REAL. 

  “Dinner!” Wanda called from the back porch. 

“I’ll teach you how to play when we swim tomorrow, Thor!” You said happily as you climbed out of the pool to dry off. 

  “Aren’t you a little old to play mermaids?” Steve teased.

  “Uh… aren’t you a little old to be alive?” You sassed. Before running towards the house, wrapped in your towel. 

Steve just giggled to himself, and walked back to the house, passing Peter bombarding Thor with questions about mermaids. 

  After dinner you were showered and in your pajamas, sitting on the living room carpet, playing chess with Peter. Peter was focusing on his next move when you saw Steve enter the room with a rather intimidating look on his face, staring you down. 

   “Y/n.” He said towering over you and Peter. 

You smiled up at him nervously. You had an idea of what this could be about. 

  “Yes?”

  “Remember when you pushed me in the pool earlier? Oh and when you insulted my age?” Steve asked. 

  “Nuh-uh.” You gave him a sheepish smile. 

Peter gave you an “I’m scared for you” look. 

 “I think you remember.” Steve said, raising an eyebrow. 

 “Alright. Let me know when this is over.” Peter told you, rolling onto his back and whipping out his phone to scroll through it. 

You scooted back into the corner behind you, having nowhere else to go. 

 “Ohohoho I’m gonna get you.” Steve chuckled teasingly, slowly approaching you. As he got closer he wiggled his fingers at you. 

Butterflies swarmed in your stomach and you giggled nervously. It had actually been a while since Steve tickled you. You and Steve had a special relationship. Everyone knew it. He’d saved your life and the moment he saw you, he knew you were special, even though he didn’t know you were the daughter of his best friend. Everything he’d done to protect you and bring your father back was something you’d never forget. He’d always worry about you and he’d do anything to make you happy. You loved Steve. You also loved his sweet, playful side, which would come out every so often where he’d toss you in the air and catch you, chase you through the halls of the compound to snatch you up and tickle you into oblivion. It was your favorite even though you could never admit it, but Steve knew.

  “Nooohohohooo!” You giggled nervously.

  “Yes!” Steve said, grabbing your ankle and gently spidering on the bottom of your foot, making you shriek with laughter. 

Steve chuckled and dragged you out into the open, before crawling over you. You tried to scoot away but he just dragged you back and straddled your waist. He grabbed your flailing wrists and pinned them over your head with one hand. He started to crack up because you were already laughing and freaking out even though he hadn’t started tickling you yet. 

  “Relax Ms. Y/n! You act like I’m gonna tickle-” Steve paused when he said the word. He noticed your cheeks flush at it. “Tickle.” Steve had a teasing grin spread across his face when he noticed your reactions to the word. 

You couldn't even look at him so you tried to bury your face in your shoulder. 

  “Y/n gets all blushy when I say TIC-KLE!” Steve grinned and laughed at you.

  “Staaahhhaaaap! I hate you!” You said through flustered giggles. 

Steve pretended to be hurt. “No! I thought you loved me!” He sang as he used his free hand to attack all over your collarbones and neck. 

You immediately fell into such hard belly laughter that you could rarely catch your breath. He dug all over into the spaces between bones and your nervous system went wild and you were in ticklish agony. 

  “I thought you loved it when I train with you and make you breakfast and you always give me hugs and want to cuddle and oh what else? You want me to TICKLE you to pieces!” Steve rambled teasingly while your laughter fell silent and you tried to squirm away. 

The teasy rambling should’ve killed you. He let you catch your breath while he shifted and released your wrists, only to shoot both hands under your arms, sending you straight into high pitched, squeaky laughter. He cackled at your reaction. You felt your face burn and tears forming in your eyes, as his fingers curled and uncurled over and over again, his blunt nails scritching at your skin. 

  “You better say you love meeee!” He sang, now traveling his hands down to your ribs, vibrating his fingertips on the surface of your bones. 

You tried to reply, but you were thrown into hysterics, just like he knew you would be.

  “I LOOOOOVE YOU!” You managed to scream through your laughter, hoping he’d let you breathe for one second. He let you breathe for a bit.

  “So.. you lied to me? A few minutes ago you said you hated me! I don’t know what to believe anymore Y/n!” Steve teased as he scribbled feather light tickles on your ribs. 

  “What’s going on here?” You heard Sam ask from behind you. 

  “Oh you know I’m just tickling Y/n’s ribs.” Steve said casually, as he started to tickle your ribs harder, causing your laughter to increase. “Y/n has veeery ticklish ribs!” Steve said through gritted teeth and raised his eyebrows at you, before shaking your entire rib cage in the most unbearably ticklish way. Your laughter fell silent again and Steve slowed his tickling down, knowing you needed to breathe. You heard Sam walk away laughing.

  “Steeeheheheve!” You whined as he began squeezing your sides. You were a flustered mess and absolutely loving this. He knew you were, otherwise he wouldn’t be so ruthless. 

  “What?” He giggled as he became scribbling circles all around your belly button. 

You, of course, were lost in your laughter again. 

  “What? What were you trying to tell me, Y/n?” He asked teasingly. He scooted your shirt up a little to flutter his fingertips on the bare skin of your tummy and you squealed and arched your back. Next thing you knew he was blowing raspberry after raspberry. His beard tickled your skin even more. He then sat up and smiled down at you and you covered your face with your hands, only to have him pull them away and nuzzle your neck. You giggled and tried to slip your hands under his arms to tickle him back. Bad idea. 

  “YOU DARE TRY TO TICKLE ME?” He boomed. You cackled at both his reaction and the feeling of rapid squeezing on your hips. 

  “SOORRY! Sorrryehehe!” You laughed. 

He tickled your knees, which were super sensitive. So sensitive, that you let out a scream catching everyone, especially Steve, by surprise. You couldn’t help it. Steve stopped and laughed at you. 

  “Ohhookay! Okay! Too much I’m sorry!” He grinned. “I’m beginning to think your tummy isn’t your most ticklish spot after all!”

 Your face was red and you were breathing heavily, but you were smiling really big. Steve knew you had enough and let up. Steve gave you a kiss on the cheek and you rolled over, exhausted from the long day, and Steve’s tickle attack. 

  Everyone headed up to bed one by one, Steve going a while ago. You found yourself lost in the TV, barely able to keep your eyes open, when you felt someone scoop you up. They began carrying you up the stairs. You looked up and it was Tony. He gave you a soft smile. 

  “Cap nearly killed you!” He whispered with a hint of sarcasm. You grinned and he chuckled. 

  “Thanks for bringing us here, Tony.” You said as he laid you on your bed. 

  “Of course, Y/n/n.” He kissed your forehead and left the room. You drifted off to sleep to the sound of the shower running in you and Natasha’s bathroom. 

...

Part 3:

[bearsace]

through my broken and bruised eye, it was you i beheld.

Summary: Bearsace watches Mai grow up right before his eyes. (He is, after all, the one closest to her.) 

Or: a friendship through the ages, told in three parts.

Author’s Note: I’ve been wanting to get this fic published for almost a year now; I had so much fun writing it as I hope you do reading it! Please enjoy one of the most niche fics you might ever read: Ikemen Sengoku in Bearsace’s POV, a la Edward Tulane. Special thanks to @rainebowkitty for reading it over super quick! You can also find this on AO3 here.

Pairings: Nobunaga/MC, but fic centers around Bearsace/MC friendship

Genre: Friendship, family, fluff, hurt/comfort

Rating: K

Word Count: 4,000+

Read Time: 10+ minutes

part one / broken. kyoto, 2004-2017.

What is this?

When he blinked into existence, he felt soft hands beneath his arms. He could not move or speak, but he could feel, and with the hands, he felt warmth.

Who am I?

“Oh, Mai, he’s beautiful!”

“Thanks, Dad!”

Where is this place?

“You’re absolutely the cutest thing I’ve ever made in my whole life. I think I’ll call you… Bearsace.”

This warm feeling in his chest… he wished that he could put a name to it, but everything was dim, and it was uncomfortable to him not to be able to see the face belonging to the long, silky brown hair as it bent over him. The hands caressed a spot above his nose and lips kissed it.

“I still have to sew another eye on you, ‘cause the other one was the wrong size, and I promise you I will… but even though you’re not complete yet, just know that I already love you so much.”

Love . It was a foreign word, but somehow, Bearsace understood that was the name of this feeling. He could not move, yet he wished he could gaze into the face of she who loved him so much— Mai.

Love. I love you, too, Mai.

—

By the time Mai managed to sew another eye on him, he already loved her with all his stuffed heart. He could see her clearly now that he had two eyes, and she was beautiful, and he admired the way she would seat him beside her sewing machine and model gowns for him.

Mai had many ambitions. Bearsace would support them as much as one stuffed bear could. She was his best friend— his only one, to be fair, because every now and again her mother would glare at him and make some snide comment about being too old to play with toys. Bearsace would glare back.

And you’re too old to be judging your daughter like that, but you don’t see me complaining!

—

Mai became very sad very often because her job was not the best one. She would come home, take off her uncomfortable-looking shoes, and Bearsace would always feel his heart swell with bittersweetness anytime she came through the door.

He would wait patiently on the couch, where she placed him every morning, as Mai would slip silently into her room and change into a fuzzy pair of pajamas— Bearsace loved those pajamas!—  then, when her hair was up into a messy pile on her head, he would swell with happiness when she finally settled onto the sofa and pulled a blanket up around her legs, taking him into her arms.

Their favorite show was My Vintage Love, a story about a girl who fell in love with a CEO. Well, it was Mai’s favorite show; Bearsace didn’t care much for it. Personally, he enjoyed The Berenstain Bears, which came on the television one day while Mai was at work, but Mai never turned it on on purpose.

It was definitely one of their worst fights. 

Fortunately, it was pretty much the only thing that they fought about. Oh, and her job. Bearsace didn’t like anything that made Mai sad.

Sometimes, when she was curled up on the couch, she’d talk to him about anything and everything. Her dreams, her passions…

“Someday, Bearsace, I’m going to make clothes for women everywhere that make them feel beautiful and happy. Every single piece is going to be made with care and love...”

Like me?

“...sorta like the way I made you.”

I knew it. What will you do when you reach that high?

“I was wondering what I’d even do when I get to the top. Maybe I’ll start my own magazine, or maybe I’ll create a fashion line that emphasizes the beauty in every woman’s body, regardless of shape, size, or whatever society calls ‘imperfection.’ I loved you even before you had both your eyes; why shouldn’t every woman feel that same love?”

Yes! He cried in happiness. Yes, this is such a good dream, and I support you completely. Mai, you won’t forget me, even when you are making others as happy as you make me?

“Man, I’m hungry,” she said with a yawn, placing him on the armrest and setting him down before trudging to the kitchen. “I’m gonna go order in some takeout.”

He felt his heart pang in a little bit of disappointment. He hated it when she ignored what he said.

—

Bearsace hated Mai’s other friends. Like “love,” it took him a while to find the word for “hate,” until Mai slammed her phone into the couch, snarling,

“I absolutely hate Yuka!”

Ah, Yuka. A fine piece of work, she was. The first time he ever met her, Bearsace was on the couch as usual when Mai came home with her.

Hello! Bearsace had said, excited to make a new friend. But Yuka ignored him and tossed him to the side to make room on the couch for herself. How rude!

Not to mention, she seemed to have no idea what it meant to be a good friend, the way Bearsace did. She rolled her eyes at Mai, suggested she find something “better” to do with her time… really, how bad of a friend could one person be?

“All she ever does is beat me down on my dreams… she thinks I should go back to school for something more— more— more reasonable ?! She says I’m not talented enough to be a fashion designer? I hate that!”

It’s okay, Bearsace said, falling over into her lap. I’m here for you.

—

It was on a rainy day that Mai whooped for joy. Bearsace wished he could turn around, because currently he was seated on the couch watching My Vintage Love and he would rather be spending time with Mai.

But she came into the living room soon enough and lifted him into a hug, which made him very happy.

What’s going on, Mai?

“Oh, my dreams are so close! All I’ve gotta do is nail this job interview and then it’s no more time-wasting coffee runs for a devil boss, no more getting yelled at for even the little mistakes— no more of that for me. I’m so close!”

If a bear could dance, he would. But for now, he was content to revel in the joy that Mai felt as she danced, and danced, and danced.

—

“Fine stitching you’ve done on it,” said the interviewer.

Bearsace rolled his eyes. I’m not an “it,” he responded in a biting tone. He looked to Mai, wondering if she might share in some of the same annoyance that he did, but she held her tongue.

“I did all the stitchwork by hand,” she explained.

“Tell me, what was the reasoning behind acrylics for eyes, instead of buttons?” The interviewer poked him in the eye, and Bearsace wanted to flinch away.

Watch it, jerk. I use those to see.

Mai smiled that amused smile. “I guess I just figured it’d help him see better.”

—

When Mai got the call that she got the job, she squealed and ran into the next room to call her father. Bearsace was not jealous that she did not go to him first; after all, he knew that she would be a shoo-in, anyway.

He looked upon Mai with pride when she picked him up and squeezed him to her chest.

I knew you could do it.

“What do you say we go do something special, just you and me?”

— 

“I wasn’t expecting this much rain!”

Bearsace fit rather comfortably in her purse and was also impressed by the deluge that hit them at the temple at Honno-ji, though why Mai considered that a vacation was beyond him.

But it was special. They were there together, after all.

What absolutely was not special was this downpour! Mai’s hair was dripping, and also the hiring packet in her purse was going to get soaked. Never fear, though— Bearsace flopped over inside Mai’s bag onto the hiring packet, protecting it from the rain.

Thunder rumbled overhead and Bearsace found himself fearful; he couldn’t see anything! There were voices; one was Mai’s, and it sounded afraid, and he desperately wished to protect her. The other sounded as if it belonged to a man, and Bearsace felt alarm bells ring in his head. At all costs, he had to protect Mai.

Run, Mai, run! He had barely managed to say the words when a flash of white took over his world. All he could feel was fear.

part two / bruised. azuchi, 1582.

Bearsace didn’t like the Oda forces, or whatever other clown names they chose to call themselves.

He tried, he really did.

Hello! He cried again, excited when he saw the strange man taking a nap on the burning roof. Hello! I am Bearsace. And you are?

“I am Oda Nobunaga… How would you like to rule the world at my side?”

That seems like a pretty good deal, Mai. We should take it.

“Uhh, thanks, but no thanks.”

But that’s a good choice too.

And then they were running quickly through the bushes. Wryly, Bearsace couldn’t help but point out that they would not be running if she had taken that man’s offer, but Mai, of course, ignored him again.

— 

Bearsace tried very hard to make new friends. After discovering that he had traveled five-hundred years to the past, he was surprised for a moment, but only a moment. He was, after all, a talking bear.

Hello! He said to the man with the eyepatch. I am Bearsace. And then the man held a sword to Mai’s throat, and from that point, Bearsace would snap his teeth at him instead of greet him politely.

It’s nice to meet you! He said to the man who did not really smile, but wore a lot of yellow, which confused Bearsace, who associated yellow with the color of happiness. I hope we can look at each other happily. The man did not speak, except to insult Mai. Never mind. I hate you.

I look forward to being your close friend, he said to the man who was friendly and had a mole near his eye, and Bearsace soon discovered he liked him the best, because he was the only one who was friendly to Mai from the start.

The three who Bearsace did not particularly bother with were the one who reminded him of a snake, the one who lectured Mai too much, and the one who was dumb enough to take naps on the roof.

He didn’t really have time for negativity like that.

—

Fortunately, Mai was as smart and resilient as expected. With the help of a ninja— an actual ninja!— she built up a plan to return to the future after three months from now. That, unfortunately, meant that she was under the protection of these weirdos for the next three months. She was awfully lucky that Bearsace was there to defend her.

We’ll get through this, Mai. Together.

— 

It was very irritating, the way that those warlords seemed to fall for her within a matter of weeks and fawn over her as if she was a doll. Mai, for her part, did not seem to be getting attached, which was good, if they were going to return to the present and finish Mai’s dream together.

Following two months in the Sengoku, his friend began to spend some time away in the evening, which was nice but also lonely. Bearsace could not sleep, but he could sit and stare at the ceiling and think. Usually he would not get bored of it, except that he could not stand guard over Mai if she was not there.

She actually seemed to grow happy, which made Bearsace happy. That was really all it took, and because it seemed to be those handsy Sengoku warlords who made her so, he gave them his grudging respect.

—

Mai cried sometimes. She always wore her heart on her sleeve, but it was the small, conflicted sobs in the middle of the night that snapped Bearsace out of his daydreaming as he kept watch over her.

Don’t cry , he said as his heart ached. Please don’t cry.

It was then that Mai reached for her purse and pulled out the hiring packet, and Bearsace’s heart broke a little bit more.

We have so many plans, don’t we? You can’t be sad for those.

She sniffled and held the papers in her hand.

Look! I kept them nice and dry for you. Surely that must mean something. All our plans, all our dreams… I will stick by you. Don’t give up yet.

Mai ignored him again. She tore the papers in half.

—

“I’m not going back.”

The only person— or bear— more surprised than Sasuke was Bearsace, himself.

What do you mean you’re not going back?! You didn’t speak to me before making this choice on your own, so that we could make it together?

“I thought you might say that. What gives?” Sasuke gave that secretive smile.

“To be honest with you, Sasuke… I’ve fallen in love with Oda Nobunaga.”

You WHAT?! The roof man?!

“Oh, is that so?”

Be quiet, Sasuke. Mai, how could you not tell me this?

“Well, to be honest with you,” Sasuke continued, “I’m not going back, either. You see, I have found some employment here that I can’t bear to leave in such a tumultuous time. You understand. But Mai, by my calculations… it seems that we may be forced to return.”

Yes! Don’t give up on our dream, Mai! Bearsace exclaimed, though he immediately wished to take it back once he saw the crushed look on Mai’s face.

“Please tell me that isn’t true, Sasuke. It took a lot of soul-searching to choose that he means more to me than any desk job.”

Look on the bright side; we’ll have the chance to be happy again, in our own time, right?

Sasuke launched into a long-winded explanation that Bearsace was far too agitated to understand, but it seemed to boil down to this:

As long as Mai and Sasuke remained in the past, time itself would remain wrathful and relentless.

—

Mai stayed in her room that night and cried. She did not meet Nobunaga, whom Bearsace now realized she snuck out every night to see. She cried until Bearsace feared her chest would cave in with sadness. He leaned against her thigh and allowed her to bury her face into the top of his head until the tears stopped… and, inevitably, they would start again.

How could he have known that Mai was falling in love? In dismay, he realized that the seam between them was tearing faster than he could patch it up. He tried talking to her many times that night— would try to offer words of encouragement, that even if they had to go back, he would always support her no matter what. But no matter how loud he yelled, she only cried harder, ignoring him.

“I don’t know what to do,” she whimpered. “I can’t leave him.”

Those were the first words she had spoken since Sasuke left, and Bearsace was immediately at attention. For the first time in a long time, Mai picked him up and looked him straight in the eye, and hugged him.

With a pang in his chest, he realized that she didn’t hug him quite the same, anymore.

It’s going to be okay. Can you please, please just respond to me once? I’m so afraid for you.

Her tears stained his fur, and he didn’t realize that anything could quite hurt this bad. “What do I do, what do I do?” she repeated, as if doing so would create a solution.

Mai…

“Ugh, what am I doing…?!”

Mai?!

“I’m talking to a dumb… a dumb stuffed toy! You can’t even talk or think; why do I still even depend on you?”

She had never raised her voice at him— not even when he wanted to change the channel from My Vintage Love to just anything else. Startled, he fell backwards as Mai snarled down at him, tears in her eyes.

“Sitting here crying isn’t going to do anything. I need to think of a way to stay.”

With a note of finality, she took him out the double doors and sat him down inside the storage closet outside. The room went dark when she closed it, and he yelled for her.

— 

Bearsace did not speak for a long, long time.

—

A maid found him, once, and asked the castle head what to do with him. He said that because Bearsace belonged to the princess, she should put him back where she found him.

—

A rat ate one of his eyes and choked to death on it before the other one. It did not hurt as bad as Bearsace thought it would.

—

The roof of the closet caved in, and of all people, it was Eyepatch Man who found him.

“Ha!” exclaimed Eyepatch Man, tugging at his paws. “Mitsuhide, didn’t this belong to Mai?”

“Oh, dear. I hadn’t realized our beloved Lady Oda had forgotten anything when she left this room. How very much like her.”

“Look, he’s missing an eye. Guess he matches me, now.”

They forgot about him when they were done fixing the closet, and a castle boy put him back on top of a puddle of melted snow.

—

“Oh, it’s here somewhere…”

Mitsunari! Bearsace cried hoarsely. It had been many weeks (or months, or likely even years) since he had seen Eyepatch Man and Mitsuhide. He would have been happy to see anyone, but Mitsunari was a treat. Where is Mai? She cannot have forgotten about me…

“Just grab what you need and go. You’ll be late for the treaty-signing with the Uesugi-Takeda forces if you don’t hurry up.”

“You’re always so wise, Lord Ieyasu! I- oh, here it is!”

Mitsunari extracted a sword from the depths of the shed. It was ornate and lovely, and covered in dust.

“This will do for a fine peace offering, don’t you say?”

“A peace offering isn’t necessary, with Mai having strengthened our relationship with them so well. I still don’t understand why you were so insistent on…”

Bearsace could not hear what Mitsunari was insistent on, because neither of them saw him on the ground.

—

A young girl with carmine eyes and caramel hair was the next one who found him. Beaten down, Bearsace could offer little more than a weak hello. The girl tilted her head and tugged at a sleeve whose owner was partially hidden by the doorframe.

“Father, what’s this?”

part three / beholding. azuchi, 1592.

Nobunaga’s hands were oddly gentle when he propped the young girl on one arm and took Bearsace in the other. His face was blank, and those hawk’s eyes were boring straight into his.

But those eyes… they were softer, somehow. Content. Bearsace felt ashamed at the way he must look in those eyes that had clearly seen a happy life— were continuing to see a happy life. His face had grown tan, his hair cropped a little bit neater. A scar on his cheek that had not been there before was there now, but did not distract from his handsomeness.

That wry smirk was impossible to misplace, though.

“I recognize you, don’t I?”

“What is it?”

“Your mother made him. Have you seen her, little one?”

“She’s with my uncles.”

Bearsace was so surprised to see Nobunaga bend down to kiss the girl on the cheek that he thought his other eye might fall right off. And if the girl’s mother made him, and Nobunaga was the girl’s father…

“Leave us, Shingen and Mitsunari.”

Nobunaga had made quick time to the audience chamber, where two men and a woman were laughing heartily over a game of cards. The woman had her back to him, but she kissed the two men on the cheeks as they left, then turned around.

Her hair was shorter. Her eyes were bright, and somehow, the kimono seemed better-suited to her now than it had the last time he had seen her many, many years ago. She looked at Nobunaga and the girl with sheer love, and then her gaze dropped to Nobunaga’s other arm— where the stuffed bear sat— and turned disbelieving before filling with tears.

“Bearsace?”

...Mai?

—

Her hands were gentle as she plunged him into rose-scented water and washed away the dust of many years. Her fingers were gentle as they wove thread through his bursting sides. Her lips were gentle as she, like she had many years ago, kissed the spot where his eye would be.

“It seems like you’re just not meant to have this eye, Bearsace. I’m afraid acrylics haven’t been made yet, but between you and me, I think you’ll be just as cute with one acrylic eye and one button one.”

One thing that Bearsace had never noticed was that Mai stuck the tip of her tongue out when she sewed.

One thing that he did notice was that she was wrong many years ago when she told the interviewer acrylics would help him see better.

The button eye made his vision crystal clear.

—

“Yumi, meet Bearsace.”

It’s very nice to meet you, Bearsace said. His voice was still sore from many years of disuse. He felt an unnamed feeling in his heart when he gazed upon Yumi— Mai and Nobunaga’s daughter. Her face was impassive, but with the same spark of curiosity that both her parents possessed.

“I was… very mean to Bearsace when I was younger. Do you think that you can take good care of him for me?”

The corner of Yumi’s lips quirked upwards as she looked at her mother with twinkling eyes. She took Bearsace in her hands gently, tenderly, and kissed the top of his head.

“Good night, Yumi, and sweet dreams. I love you.”

As Mai leaned down to nuzzle her daughter’s head, Bearsace noted that she always had the makings of a fine mother. She smiled down at Bearsace next.

“I’m so sorry that I got angry at you and left you in that shed. You were always there for me when times got rough. I love you so much, Bearsace,” Mai whispered in his ear and kissed the tip of his nose.

Slowly, Bearsace felt the frigidity that had taken hold of his heart begin to melt away. He did not feel empty anymore.

I love you too, Mai. It no longer hurt when she could not respond, because he knew now that he would always be with her.

“Good night. I love you. Say good night, Bearsace.” Yumi said. She lifted Bearsace’s arm and waved at her mother with it.

For one blissful, thousand-thread moment, Mai waved back.

epilogue / azuchi & kyoto, c. 1600s-2016.

Nobunaga and Mai died hand-in-hand on a beautiful spring day after living a long and happy life together. They were the last of their friends to pass, and were buried with them, too. Bearsace had come to love the strange family he had found, who had all found each other, too.

Even if they had hated each other for so long.

When it came Yumi’s time, she held the hand of her son and made him swear to protect Bearsace with his life. And when it came his time, he did the same with his daughter, and she with hers.

Bearsace did not throw his words so much now. He spoke carefully, affectionately, and with all the wisdom he possessed after so many years.

Sometimes, he would reminisce.

The way that Mitsuhide’s lips puckered before teaming up with Masamune to tease Mai.

The way that Kenshin and Nobunaga would spar in the courtyard, scaring the maids even from across the castle.

The way that Hideyoshi nagged Yukimura, and the way that Yukimura rolled his eyes.

They made his heart blossom and wilt and laugh and cry and dance and sing— all at once. This was love, Bearsace had decided a few hundred years ago. The way he could so clearly see in his button-eye the joys that they had shared together— and the way that, after so many years, he could not help but care so deeply.

Even after all these years, Bearsace was in excellent condition because of how well everyone had taken care of him. It was why, when a great, great, great— who-knew-how-many-greats— descendant of the Oda donated him to a museum, he was placed in the center of the Azuchi-Echigo exhibit, right across from a weathered painting that explained the importance of Mai.

c.1582: An ancestor of the teddy bear, “Bearsace” was hand-sewn by Oda Mai, famous peacekeeper of the Azuchi-Echigo Treaty, then passed through the generations by her descendants. This is  one of the best-preserved artifacts of the Sengoku period. Generously donated to the Azuchi Castle Archive Museum by Oda Sakura.

“Huh. That’s weird.”

Bearsace had felt asleep for many years, missing the sound of her voice. When he heard it again, he almost felt his heart collapse in shock.

“This Bearsace kinda looks like my Bearsace.”

It took a moment for Bearsace to look down at the newspaper that Mai held in her hands, dated with the year of 2016— the year, he realized, before she and another version of him would go back to the Sengoku period. His eyes could not take enough of her in as she tilted her head, looking at him with a fond sort of bemusement.

Mai, he called, voice breaking with brilliant, shining emotion as she walked away, not thinking twice of the strange encounter. I missed you. Don’t forget to give me to Yumi, and don’t forget to sew me another eye.

But she was something of a white bird in a blizzard— he could not catch her. But he was content to watch as she walked away, farther into a life that he knew would make her very happy. This was all that he swore to do— was to protect her, so that she could finally be happy. The joy of it settled something within him, and visitors to the museum that day could have sworn that the bear’s face settled into a permanent, peaceful smile.

—

Bearsace did not speak for a long, long time.

[mcatra]

Catra works at Burger King pt 3

catradora in ther modern party clothes!

AO3

pt1/2

Catra was currently studying in the library, trying to work her way through a math problem. 

Her place didn't have internet, so she usually alternated between the school wifi, the public library, and Burger King. Lonnie usually let her study in the break room when the libraries closed up. 

Her phone pings with a message, obviously from Adora. 

Catra picks up her phone and unlocks it, eyebrow raising when she sees the message. 

Adora: 

Wyd? 

Catra sighs. Of course that airheaded jock texted like a frat boy. As much as she wanted to leave her on read, a deal was a deal. 

Catra: 

Studying. 

Adora: 

So diligent! You're so cool, Catra :) 

Adora: 

I'm weightlifting right now! Gotta work off all those BK calories 💪

Great, maybe she will leave her alone to go do her workout. 

Adora: 

[image.attachment]

Catra almost drops her phone when she sees the photo Adora sent. It was a shot of her by the mirror, and she was flexing with a dumbbell. She was wearing a black crop top, which framed her abs perfectly.  What was she doing, getting flustered over what, a gym rat photo that looked like it belonged on a Tinder profile? After much gay panic and debate, Catra takes a photo of herself with her middle finger up to the camera. She taps ‘send’ angrily. 

Catra: 

[image.attachment] 🖕 She doesn't get a response for a few minutes, which was odd. Usually Adora typed back at the speed of lightning. 

Ping. 

Adora: 

wow Ur rlly hot  Catra looks at the text, slack jawed. What the hell? 

Adora: 

Oh my god I am so sorry. That was Glimmer, she took my phone. 

Catra could almost scream, but she was in a public library. She settles for furiously chewing her out, sharp nails flying over the keyboard. 

Catra: 

Plz make Ur excuses more believable. It's so unoriginal I can't even post this on r/OopsDidntMeanTo. 

Adora: 

I really didn't mean to 🥺

Adora: 

I mean 

Adora: 

Glimmer didn't mean to  God, Adora was so stupid. Yet here Catra was, blushing like a fool. When she doesn’t answer for a while, her phone starts pinging again with notifications. 

>Adora liked your photo

>Adora liked your status >Adora reacted to your comment >Adora liked your photo

It goes on for another 23 times and Catra scrolls through it, dumbfounded. Unblocking her was a mistake. 

---- 

As promised, Adora would visit her garage when her shifts were over bringing groceries. In exchange Catra would cook, as it seemed like Adora would burn water if she tried. 

It started off as a weekly thing, but in a true Adora-like fashion it ended up like this everyday. They would talk for hours, catching up on their lost years together. 

Adora talked about all sorts of things, like how hard it was adjusting to the soft beds at first and how she requested a hard one. She told her about the contents of the letters she would send to Catra that never went received. Catra just listened, gratified to hear that Adora missed her in their time apart even half as much as she did. 

They would sing the little songs they invented back when they were kids and make up whole new ones as they waited for the food. Adora even started learning how to cook after watching Catra, and she would barge in uninvited with new recipes. The food tasted better with company, and Adora took great pleasure in piling her seconds. 

Catra would show her the local dumpster and they would go scavenging for items they needed. She taught her how to repair the things they found using Youtube tutorials, and how to disinfect them. It was fun watching Adora try to haggle for prices at the market, or her face when she realized she had to use the outhouse to go to the bathroom at Catra’s. 

Days bleed into months, their easygoing friendship making Catra feel at peace for the first time in forever. 

Right now they were currently in their trial exam period, which functioned both as practice for their final exams and half of their final marks. They were sitting in the library, chatting about their future majors. 

Catra taps a pencil to her chin. ‘Let me guess, you want to do art. No, art history.’

‘Political science, actually! Did you know Eternia University has  the  number one ranked Political Science course in the entire country?' Adora says, flipping through the uni coursebook. 

'Wao, future leader of the free world huh? That's kinda hot.' Catra teases, while Adora swats her in embarrassment. 

'What about you?' 

'Double degree of Law and Social Work.' Catra replies. 'Cliche I know. But I just want to be in a position where I can sue the shit out of Shadow Weaver. The system is corrupt, and there's thousands of kids being abused.' 

'Wow, you're so cool Catra.' Adora says in awe. 'You're so smart, you'd definitely get in.' 

'Damn right.' She scoffs, crossing her arms. 

'You're gonna love Eternia. I went to their open day, the campus is gorgeous. Oh my gosh we could dorm together!' 

'Gross, who'd want to be  your  roommate?' 

'You  would.' 

'Ew, you're so full of yourself. Anyway get off me, I have work soon and I need to get changed.' 

'Ah yes, the cute Burger King apron. I never get tired of it.' 

They would always flirt back and forth like this, but nothing ever came out of it. 

With her friendship came the feelings that she had repressed long ago, unknotting and resurfacing like they had never gone at all. However she had no idea if Adora even liked her in that way, given how affectionate she was with Bow and Glimmer. She was popular with boys and girls alike, but she never dated anyone. Catra never dared to ask. 

Once Adora had fallen asleep in Catra's bed, and the brunette had woken up to the other girls arm around her and their feet tangled together. It reminded her of when they shared the bed as kids, but now they were grown up and this kind of thing didn't have an innocent meaning anymore. Having her there made her heart race and her palms sweaty.

She had wanted to kiss her then. She wanted to kiss her now. Catra wanted every single morning to end up like that. 

-- 

Adora:

Your birthday is soon! Did you want anything?

You  , Catra thinks, like a huge sap. 

Catra:

My sanity back. 

Adora: 

Oh my gosh, we could throw you a party at my place! You’re turning 18 right? We could go out drinking! Angella has this amazing vintage wine collection and I could make cocktails!  

Catra receives another wall of text, basically planning the entirety of this birthday party with Bow being the DJ and how Glimmer could make these buns that were to die for. Adora starts going through the entire party guest list until she has to cut in. 

Catra: 

lol calm down 

Adora: 

Does this mean Ur on board? 🎉

Catra: 

yes fine since you won't shut up about it 

Adora: 

AAAAAAAH YOU'RE THE BEST!!!!!!! ♥️♥️♥️♥️ U WILL NOT REGRET THIS 

DW I WILL PLAN EVERYTHING <3333 

💗💖💖😻

The excessive amount of heart emojis make Catra grin dumbly into her palm. 

She's glad they're not video chatting, or Adora would've already taken a screenshot. 

---

It’s the day of her 18th birthday, and she’s nearing the end of her shift. The best friend squad were waiting for her at their usual table so they could give her a ride. 

‘Hey Catra. Can I speak to you out back?’ Lonnie asks, gesturing outside. 

What the heck, did she do something wrong?  It’s been pretty peaceful as of late, and Catra tries to remember if she had done anything to Kyle recently. She nods, chucking her apron at the back as she tries not to notice Adora’s eyes following her. 

 Catra goes out to the back of the store, the night air nipping at her shoulders. Lonnie waits for her there, biting her lip.

‘What’s up? Don’t tell me you’re giving me a raise.’ Catra jokes. 

Lonnie looks conflicted, and she takes a big breath. 

‘I’m sorry but our store isn’t doing so well. I know you’re turning 18, and that means we can’t afford to keep you on anymore.’

‘What…?’ 

Catra felt numb, like she wasn’t really there in the back alley with Lonnie. It felt like an out of body experience. She could only stare at her, betrayed. 

Like Lonnie could read her mind, she tries to correct herself. ‘It wasn’t my decision, it was Octavia’s.’

Of course it was. Her regional manager was the reason she could never just swipe food while she was working. Octavia never liked her, she always reviewed the security cameras and told her off for goofing around. She must’ve known the door incident was on Catra’s shift, and what really happened despite Adora’s cover up. This ‘layoff’ was just an excuse to get rid of her from a financial standpoint. 

‘Thank you for all your hard work over these past 3 years. I know you’re going through a rough time, so we will of course give you a recommendation.’

Catra just nods. 

She returns to her shift, robotically going through the motions. Catra doesn’t even say anything sassy when Adora asks for a burger with no patty and no onions and no sauce, only cheese on bread.

The lack of a clever comeback to their gag routine has Adora concerned. ‘Are you okay?’ 

Of course she wasn’t. How could she be? She was going to have to vacate her garage space, not like she had anywhere to put her furniture in. What the hell was she going to do? 

‘I’m fine.’ She says, even though tears were threatening to burn a hole in the back of her eyelids. ‘Just...rough day.’ 

‘It’s your birthday! The party will cheer you up.’ Bow says brightly. ‘I have the sickest playlist of all time, you're gonna love it.' 

'My mum isn’t home so we have free reign over the entire house! Come on girl, let's get you changed!' Glimmer crows, too excited about the party to pick up on Catra's mood. 'Makeover time!!' 

The two of them force her into Glimmer's Mercedes, on their way to buy every alcohol imaginable from the bottle shop before they go to her house. 

The last thing Catra wanted to do was play dress up or even go to her party, but Adora had planned for so long for this. It would definitely ruin the entire night if she refused to go. 

Out of all the times they had hung out, she’s never been to Adora’s house. She leans her head against the window when they drive into the fancy part of town, by the lakeside with the multi-million dollar yachts parked in the water. 

That still doesn't prepare Catra for when security lets them in through the black gates to the biggest mansion she’s ever seen. There were fountains, perfectly manicured lawns, a tennis court, and was that  a helicopter pad?! 

It was incredible, she had only seen this kind of luxury in the movies. So Glimmer was rich , rich. No wonder she was put out that Adora had her 18th birthday at Burger King. 

Catra looks at Adora with a dumbfounded expression as the attendants let them in, and the blonde looks almost embarrassed when they have to get into an elevator to go to her room. 

Glimmer picks out a hybrid of clothes from her and Adora's closets. The walk-in wardrobe is huge, like a department store full of designer clothes, shoes, jewellery and bags. 

Her wardrobe alone is the size of Catra's home. The brunette suddenly understands why Adora cried upon seeing her concrete garage space. Looking at it, she wanted to cry too. 

Glimmer sets her down on her huge poster bed as she brings out a checkered crop top, ripped black garter shorts and an expensive looking black leather jacket with a gold trim. While Catra reluctantly gets changed, Glimmer picks out a pair of black strappy heeled boots and a hair straightener to battle the bush on Catra’s head. 

She sits still while Glimmer goes to work on her face, bringing out an entire Sephora’s worth of makeup. When Catra looks in the vanity mirror, she almost doesn’t recognize herself. Her eyes were framed with false eyelashes, a swooping cateye, smokey eyeshadow, sharp contour and her lips were now cherry red with bold lipstick. Glimmer applies the finishing touches with silver rings and clip on piercings. 

She hears Adora inhale with shock from the staircase in her bedroom. 

‘Catra you look incredible !’ She gasps. Adora was wearing this cute backless white dress tied with strings, short enough that it cropped above her knees. She was wearing sparkly wedges to go with it, and her hair was curled instead of her usual ponytail. Her delicate gold sword necklace frames her collarbones. 

Catra’s throat goes dry. ‘Uh- You too.’ 

 Glimmer smirks, satisfied with her work. She gets changed into her own outfit, a short purple tulle lace dress with a white fur trim and a cute Gucci clutch to accompany it. The pink haired girl spritzes them all with her various floral and sea spray scented perfumes before they head back downstairs.

‘Wow you guys look amazing!’ Scorpia marvels, and Adora’s friends voice their approval as well. 

‘Gosh this place is crazy.’ Scorpia whispers to Catra. ‘Did you see their pool? We should’ve just held the swimming carnival here!’ 

Catra opens her mouth to tell her how Lonnie had let her go, but Sea Hawk’s booming voice interrupts them. 

'I challenge you to the ultimate game of BEER PONG!' Sea Hawk announces, spinning the ball on his fingertips. 

Of course this gets everyone's competitive spirit going, and everyone gets into pairs. 

After a few drinks Catra has almost forgotten what she was worrying about earlier, too focused on the buzz. Her and Adora demolish the other teams by a landslide with their impeccable aim. 

Soon the attendants came out with dinner, and it was lavish with every food you could imagine. Lobster, kobe beef, hor d'oeuvres, beluga caviar, kale, and opulent ice cream were all among the plates of food on the table. They bring out a massive 3 tiered truffle cake, the words 'Happy Birthday' written with an oddly crude drawing of Catra. 

'You drew this?' She asks, and Adora nods happily. 'You worked so hard on mine, so.' Catra doesn’t have the heart to tell her that the cake was $7 and the drawing of her forehead was meant as an insult.  They sing the birthday song for her, and this time no one brings up the cake cutting tradition. 

 After dinner they sit outside in the garden around the bonfire Sea Hawk had made. He was drunkenly singing a loud shanty while Bow piled in the wood, fanning the flames. Frosta sips on a mocktail, the only one there who wasn’t old enough to drink yet. The fire flickers and dances, casting shadows around them. 

Catra downs a few more cocktails and jello shots as she waits for Mermista to light up some fireworks. Apparently it was illegal, but Mermista just waved her off, telling her that she’ll just pay the penalty fee as Catra’s birthday gift. Sea Hawk really did rub off on her. 

When she successfully sets them off they light up the sky in dazzling multicoloured sparks. Adora’s friends whoop with glee, taking photos and videos to commemorate the moment. 

Adora's side profile is lit up in the dark, and she looks impossibly beautiful among the backdrop of stars. Longing tears at her chest, Catra wants to hold her hand but her throat feels too tight and she can’t move. The truth was that she knew she had always had feelings for Adora, even back when they were just kids back in the foster home. But like a coward, she could never voice them for fear of Adora leaving her side. 

A loud neighing can be heard from the stables in response to the loud booming noises from the fireworks. 

'Swifty!' Adora says, standing up. The moment's breaks and Catra reels back her hand. 'Stay here, I'll be right back.' 

Her chance disappears, she couldn’t say it after all. She watches her go tend to her horse, feeling stupid. 

‘Yoohoo~, want a rematch?’ Sea Hawk calls out from the patio, pouring vodka into tiny glasses. 

‘Don’t mind if I do.’ Catra replies. She definitely didn’t know her alcohol tolerance levels yet, so it was the perfect time to take that to the test. 

Catra confidently does a whole line of shots, determined to drink herself into unconsciousness. Every time she sees a flash of Lonnie or Adora’s face in her mind, she takes another swig. Everyone is cheering her on, screaming the song ‘Shots’ over and over again, also all drunk out of their minds. Sea Hawk taps out at the 5th drink, and everyone screams at Catra’s flawless victory. Scorpia lifts her into the air to do a victory lap, cheering. 

Adora finally makes an appearance, alerted by the sound of Catra's shrieky laughter as Scorpia swings her around. 

‘Don’t worry, I can take it from here.’ Her school captain says pulling Catra away from her friend. Scorpia just shrugs and makes her way to the food table. ‘Catra, maybe you should slow down.’ Adora tells the giggling girl in her arms. 

‘Noo way.’ She slurs, she was enjoying the feeling too much, the alcohol burning through her body, making her feel lightheaded. The light up disco dancefloor starts to blur into a kaleidoscope of colours. 

‘You got some weed?’ Catra asks, seeing Perfuma light a bowl. The taller girl hands her an already rolled up one and Catra snatches it to take a long drag. The smoke hits her lungs and she starts coughing. 

‘Oi Perfuma, why did you bring drugs? Angella will kill me!' Adora gripes, trying to wrestle the blunt away from Catra. 

‘Aw don't be like that! I made some edibles for you guys to try.’ Perfuma says cheerfully, pointing to the pot brownies. 

‘See? Scorpia likes them.’ She gestures at the other girl, who seemed to be currently tripping out of her mind and eating everything on the table. 

Catra goes to reach for one, but Adora grabs her by the wrist to lead her back inside. 'Alright, you're done for the night. Everyone say bye!' 

‘Byee Catra!’

‘Happy birthday!!’

Adora grabs her by the waist to lead her to her bedroom, Catra wobbling after her in the heels Glimmer lent her. 

'Ugh Adoraaa, don't be such a party pooper. I'm fine.' She moans, leaning heavily on the other girl. 'Don't you have a shift tomorrow afternoon? I don't want you getting hungover or drug tested.' Adora chides, rummaging around the dark for the light switch. 

Catra snorts. 'Oh you don't have to worry about  that  anymore. Got laid off.' 

Adora looks at her in confusion, until realization dawns on her. 'Wait, is that why Lonnie took you outside?' 

'Say, I never got to give you  your  birthday gift.' Catra pushes her hair back, voice sultry as she flings off her jacket. She never pinned herself down as a horny drunk, but here they were. Catra shoves Adora onto the bed, straddling her. Her golden hair spills over the mattress, soft like spun silk. 

'You still want that kiss?' Catra whispers in Adora's now burning red ear. 'My knife touched the bottom.' 

Adora's face now resembled a fire truck, mouth gaping in shock.

'C-Catra, I…' 

Catra presses their lips together, silencing her. She knows she probably tastes like alcohol and weed right now, but she couldn't care less in the moment. Adora's mouth is still slack jawed from mortification, so she takes the opportunity for tongue. She frowns and moves down to her neck when Adora doesn’t return the kiss. 

'Catra, what are you doing-' 

Catra bites down on Adora's nape. The blonde underneath her lets out a soft gasp, arching her back. Her gold manicured nails dig into her shoulder. 

'Stop, you're not thinking straight-!' 

'Sure ain't.' Catra grins, licking a stripe down the base of her neck. Adora’s necklace chain jingles with the movement. There was now an impressive hickey there, blooming violet on her pale skin. She pauses to admire her handiwork. 

'This isn't you talking, you'll, you'll regret this in the morning.' Adora stutters. She's shivering, their hands now laced together, silver rings clanking. 

'I know. I don't care.' She replies, kissing her again. Adora's teeth nick her lip. The alcohol in her system makes her feel lightheaded, confident. No way would she have managed this sober. Adora tastes better than she does, sweet like blueberry soju. Catra's hands wander down further, pulling the strings to untie the back of her dress-

'Catra stop!'  Adora suddenly shouts, striking Catra across the cheek in a deafening  slap . 

Adora's eyes were blazing, almost teary in the dark. Her breathing was irregular, panting in and out. Catra stills, clutching her cheek. The look in her eyes sobered her immediately. 

Adora looks down at her palm, realizing what she just did. 'Sorry for hitting you!' She flounders. 'It's just that, you're only doing this because you’re drunk and upset, right?’

Catra just stares at her before climbing off. Cold realization settles as the fog in her brain clears. 'You're right. Forget it.' 

She sits on the edge of the bed, numbly watching Adora hurriedly trying to re-tie the back of her now wrinkled dress. Her lips are stained with Catra’s red lipstick. Adora catches her looking, and she quickly turns away to smooth down her hair with her fingers. 'You've had more than enough to drink tonight. I’ll get you some water to clear your head.’

She gets up to turn on the light switch, and Catra blinks in the harsh light from the chandeliers.  ‘Come on, let’s get you sobered up, okay?’ Adora leads her to the kitchen on the same floor, gingerly placing her friend on the slippery bar stool. 

The blonde goes to get the chilled jug of infused water from the fridge and pours it into a glass. Adora slides it across the island, and Catra reluctantly takes it. She sips at it, mint and lemon on her tongue. It tasted way better than her hose water. 

‘I’ll uh, pick out some groceries for you since we’re here and all.’ Adora says awkwardly into the silence, turning around to rummage through her pantry. 

Suddenly Catra is brought back to the whole reason why she was sitting here in this oversized mansion in the first place. Their friendship agreement. The one she had just violated. Catra had never felt more stupid to mistake Adora’s kindness and guilt for actual feelings. She felt like a charity case, waiting to collect food from the soup kitchen.

Of course Adora didn't like her back. She just saw her as someone needing to be saved. The product of survival guilt. Catra wanted to whack her head on the corner of her marbled countertop and not wake up. 

Adora takes out a green plastic bag, and starts filling it with everything and anything she can get. Cans, pasta, biscuits, fruits and vegetables. Actually this feeling was more like being one of those poor kids that white girls would pose next to for their Instagram after their trip to Africa.  Did Adora have fun, volunteering to slum it up in her place while she returned here? All she ever wanted her entire life was to be Adora’s equal. 

Scorpia and Sea Hawk's loud laughter and DJ music can be heard downstairs in the garden, beyond the tall golden trimmed windows. The class difference between them stretched like an unfathomable canyon. Living the classy bougie dream until the clock struck midnight and she was back in her run down garage. Except soon she won’t even have that anymore. Why did Adora have to bring her here? It was almost cruel. 

Catra's suddenly overcome with the urge to vomit. She nearly falls off the high chair in her rush to throw up the unholy cocktail of alcohol into the sink. Tears bead in her eyes from the sour taste as she continues to vomit out everything she ate that night. She can feel Adora by her side, patting her back reassuringly.

It was by far the worst birthday she has ever had. 

 --

The morning of, Catra woke up in Adora’s bed with a splitting headache. 

Unfortunately she was  not given the gift of amnesia, as she vividly remembered every last excruciating detail about last night. 

She spots Adora’s mop of blonde hair under a blanket on the floor, even though there were a billion other free spare rooms to sleep in. Adora was probably too afraid to share the same bed as her now.

Catra’s borrowed crop top digs uncomfortably into her skin, and she angrily flings it off her body. The shorts stick to her like a second skin, smelling of tequila. She grabs her old Burger King uniform and puts it on, though even this didn’t belong to her now. 

Adora shifts in her sleep, and Catra lightly steps over her to get to the door. The last thing she wanted was for Adora to wake up. 

As soon as she’s out, she runs out to the elevator and bangs frantically on the buttons until it sends her to the bottom floor. The lift opens with a  ding  and in her haste she almost crashes headfirst into Glimmer. 

‘Oh hey! Are you going to work?’ Glimmer greets. She was in her silk pajamas and slippers, holding a glass of orange juice. 

‘Uh. Yeah.’ Catra lies, trying her best to look natural. 

‘Some party last night huh? Lucky today is a Saturday.’ Glimmer says conversationally, unaware of Catra’s urge to throw her across the room. ‘Hey, what happened to your cheek?’

Catra clutches her face, it still strung from where Adora struck her. ‘Nothing.’

Glimmer raises an eyebrow. ‘Well anyway, did you wanna stick around for  breakfast? The cooks made pancakes, bacon, eggs, the whole deal.' She peeks behind Catra. 'Is Adora  still  not up yet?’ 

As much as Catra wanted to scream  get out of my way she schools her expression to her best customer service smile. ‘Nope she’s still sleeping it off. Anyway I’m gonna be late so I can’t stick around.’

‘Did you need a lift?’ Glimmer asks. It dawns on the brunette she couldn’t exactly run the entire way back home. ‘I’ll ask one of the drivers to take you back so you make it to your shift.’

Catra thanks her lucky stars that Glimmer was still too hungover to drive her. She wouldn’t have been able to dodge her questions if she had. 

‘Yes please.’ Catra says, giddy with relief. ‘Thank you.’ 

‘Ooh and before I forget, Adora told me last night to give you this.’ Glimmer says, grabbing the green bag of groceries off the counter. The shorter girl bundles it into Catra’s arms before she can object. 

‘Get home safe.’ She says, waving as the attendant leads her out the door. 

Catra looks down at the cans of food in her arms and doesn’t say anything.  

 ------

The days leading up to graduation were painful, to say the least. 

They more or less pretend the kiss didn't happen. Adora never brings it up, and neither does Catra. 

She would stare at the ceiling, wishing she had never gotten piss drunk at her birthday and kissed her. Adora was right, she did regret it. It was awful, the look on Adora's face when she slapped Catra replays in her mind and nightmares over and over again. It was mortifying. 

Adora still messages her every 3 days, and Catra still replies, though her words are empty and devoid of banter.  I'm worried about you,  she says.  I'm fine , Catra always responds. 

The brunette continues to humour her to keep the peace, only shutting down when her old job was mentioned. Catra doesn’t allow Adora back into her home again. 

Sometimes they study together, but she can't concentrate when Adora wears her glasses. Her heart hurts, so she cradles her cheek and tries not to remember. 

The hickey she had branded Adora's neck with had been covered with foundation until it faded away. None of her friends had teased her about it, so she clearly had not told a single soul what had happened. 

Catra bites at the scab on her lip from where Adora’s teeth nicked her until it bleeds. She wants to apologize, but the words stick on her tongue and she can't bring herself to talk about that night. 

Catra knew Adora was only here by her side to alleviate her guilt. Shame buries itself under her skin every time she's near her, like she was too embarrassed to even exist in the same space as Adora. She wants to disappear. 

Exams are hard, and without an internet connection after the library closes at 6pm made it difficult to study. In her heart she knew she wasn't going to come out on top. Her ranking had slipped, she wasn't even at second place anymore. Rent was due at the end of the month, and without her Burger King wage she knew she'll be kicked out sooner than later. 

Catra felt stressed and self destructive, and the only thing that kept her from falling off the edge completely was Scorpia. As much as she hated depending on others, she'd much rather her old coworker than Adora. 

Her classmates seemed to like this new, muted down version of Catra who didn't argue and just stayed quiet most of the time. Fighting back was too difficult when all she wanted to do was blend into the wallpaper. All they talked about was where they were going for vacation after graduation, and Catra certainly had nothing to contribute to that conversation.

She felt like crying, all the time. It was agony, wanting to burst out into tears randomly while she sat wasting away in the student council room. Despite herself, she missed Burger King, and she just kept getting ghosted or rejected in her other job applications. Sometimes when she really wanted to indulge herself, she'd go cry silently in the school toilet stall. 

Glimmer notices the change, and she catches her glaring. 'You don't seem as alive lately. Your eye bags are huge.' 

'S'fine.' Catra replies, hiding her hands so she doesn't see how they shake. Honestly Catra couldn't remember the last time she slept.

'Pfft, don't lie to me. Adora's worried about you. You're getting skinnier, and your eyes are always raw. All you do is stare into space.' 

Catra bites down on her nails. Of course she knew that. But she's gone through this before, and she'll do it again. 

'What happened between you two?’ 

‘None of your business.’ Catra replies, shuffling her way to the hall. 

--

 Their graduation ceremony starts off uneventfully. Every student’s parents except Catra’s sit proudly in the audience, eager to watch their kid graduate. One by one they receive their certificate and return to their seats. 

Adora and Catra stand side by side onstage, as Adora makes their final speech as School Captain. Through the blinding lights, she sees Angella waving proudly at her adoptive daughter in the crowd. 

Catra looks at Adora in the corner of her eye. She must look pathetic, lovesick and pining after someone she couldn’t have. 

‘It’s been such an honour serving the entire faculty and students of this school. I couldn’t have done it without my amazing Vice-Captain and all of my prefects. Now I’m proud to hand over my badge to the next School Captain, Frosta.’ 

They go through the rest of the ceremony like that, each member of the student council handing their badges to their successors. 

Soon their Principal comes up to the podium, tapping it once and clearing her throat. 

‘Announcing our honor student, and the winner of the scholarship to Eternia University…’ Castaspella says, turning over the sign card. 

‘None other than our school captain, Adora!’

Everyone starts clapping, and Adora walks across the stage to shake Castaspella's hand. 

Sounded about right. Catra never won against Adora in her entire life. She had already expected this outcome. Like a game of cat and mouse, going over and over for all eternity. 

Adora would excel with her elite education and secure a well paying job. Catra would struggle at the bottom indefinitely, never amounting to anything. She never would, if Adora was still there next to her. When the blonde re-entered her life, everything she had been working towards for years just collapsed. Her job, her home, her School Captain status, her chance at the scholarship, her sanity. 

She had to be wiped clean. A fresh start. 

The flower petals were falling, the streets decorated with a vibrant pink. The other students mill out of the crowd with their parents, chatting excitedly about what was next in their futures. She waits for Adora underneath a tree.  

'Congratulations.' Catra says, when she finally spots the other girl in the crowd. Adora pulls away from Angella’s embrace to meet her. 

'You deserve this so much more than I do.' Adora says, her voice pained like she didn't just win a full ride to her dream university. 'You should take it.'

'It's in your name, silly.' Catra replies, lightly tapping her with her rolled up certificate.

'Besides, I knew you'd get into Eternia, so I never applied.'

Adora blinks dumbly. '...What? Aren’t we going to the same university?’ 

She always was a bit slow on the uptake. ‘Only  you  decided that, stuupid. Say, it's about time we ended this right?' 

‘Catra, what are you...' 

'Our deal. You don't need to feel guilty anymore or bring me anything.' Catra says, her voice sounding like it didn't belong to her. She rummages in her bag, bringing out Adora's spare varsity jacket that she hadn’t returned. 'Here, take this. Thank you for all the help.' 

'What do you mean? You want to stop being friends?' Adora says in disbelief, taking the jacket.  

Catra nods. ‘I can’t continue with the arrangement. I hope you understand.’ 

‘I don’t! Was I the only one who thought we were friends, real ones?’ Adora asks.

‘...That’s right. I never saw you as a friend. You were just a meal ticket to me. Are you happy now?’ Catra snaps back. Shit, that wasn’t what she meant to say. She had planned to end this quickly and painlessly, on a high note.  Trust Adora to put up a fight. 

Something seems to click in Adora’s brain. ‘Is this about the night of the party?’

‘Figure that out yourself.’ Catra replies, turning to walk away. 

Adora grabs onto her arm. ‘Wait! If- if that’s what you want, I’ll give it! Just don't go!' 

This dumb blonde really was offering up her body, out of what? A sense of duty? How stupid. 

‘Is that right?’ Catra says, walking closer to her. Adora backs up until she is pinned to the tree. They’re face to face now. 

‘Can you really do this?’ Catra lifts Adora’s chin by a finger. 

Finally it seems to dawn on Adora exactly what Catra wanted. She swallows, biting her lip. 

There’s a flicker of hesitation, before Adora’s eyes squeeze shut defiantly. The blonde is shaking like a leaf, her breath coming out in panicked stutters from her pursed lips. 

Catra just stares at Adora’s scrunched up face impassively. Her scared reaction was the only confirmation she needed for closure. 

She flicks the other girl’s forehead, and her big blue eyes open in confusion. ‘Chill out, I’m not that evil to do it to someone so unwilling.’

 Adora blinks, clutching her forehead. ‘Catra?’

Suddenly Angella’s voice cuts through their conversation from the car park. ‘Adora dear, are you done chatting with your friend? We have reservations!'

‘Um, I…’ Her old school captain opens her mouth to say something, but Angella's started to lose her patience. 'Adora, how long are you going to stand there? Glimmer is already waiting for us at the restaurant!' 

Catra just smiles tiredly. ‘Take care, dummy.’ 

She watches Adora being dragged off unwillingly by her adoptive mother to the car. 

Catra lets out a sigh. Her phone pings with a message from Scorpia, and she knows it's time to go. 

---

 By the time Angella releases her from their graduation celebration, Adora can feel that it's already too late.

 Adora: 

Please, can we talk? Let me fix this

A pop up appears over the screen. 

Message Not Sent

This person isn't receiving messages at this time. 

Adora sends another message, but they all go undelivered. Catra had blocked her again. Panic spikes through her veins, and she quickly dons on a jacket and grabs her car keys. 

She sneaks out that night, down the familiar winding path through the bush that led to Catra's place. 

'Catra?' She rolls up the garage door, blinking in the darkness. When her eyes adjusted, she found Catra's old home completely emptied. 

All the furniture and items her friend had collected over the years, they were all gone. The little stove where they cooked, the old mattress where they talked late into the night, all vanished like they were never there. 

A single green plastic bag remained on the floor untouched, filled to the brim of food. 

     catra working at BK fanart: 

https://twitter.com/huetrooper/status/1265188930741080064

https://twitter.com/quackelroys/status/1271199987540668416?s=20

https://mcatra.tumblr.com/post/620493235561824256/your-catra-works-at-burger-king-fic-is-great-you

 pt1, pt 2

Catra was currently studying in the library, trying to work her way through a math problem. 

Her place didn't have internet, so she usually alternated between the school wifi, the public library, and Burger King. Lonnie usually let her study in the break room when the libraries closed up. 

Her phone pings with a message, obviously from Adora. 

Catra picks up her phone and unlocks it, eyebrow raising when she sees the message. 

Adora: 

Wyd? 

Catra sighs. Of course that airheaded jock texted like a frat boy. As much as she wanted to leave her on read, a deal was a deal. 

Catra: 

Studying. 

Adora: 

So diligent! You're so cool, Catra :) 

Adora: 

I'm weightlifting right now! Gotta work off all those BK calories 💪

Great, maybe she will leave her alone to go do her workout. 

Adora: 

[image.attachment]

Catra almost drops her phone when she sees the photo Adora sent. It was a shot of her by the mirror, and she was flexing with a dumbbell. She was wearing a black crop top, which framed her abs perfectly. 

What was she doing, getting flustered over what, a gym rat photo that looked like it belonged on a Tinder profile? 

After much gay panic and debate, Catra takes a photo of herself with her middle finger up to the camera. She taps ‘send’ angrily. 

Catra: 

[image.attachment] 🖕

She doesn't get a response for a few minutes, which was odd. Usually Adora typed back at the speed of lightning. 

Ping. 

Adora: 

wow Ur rlly hot 

Catra looks at the text, slack jawed. What the hell? 

Adora: 

Oh my god I am so sorry. That was Glimmer, she took my phone. 

Catra could almost scream, but she was in a public library. She settles for furiously chewing her out, sharp nails flying over the keyboard. 

Catra: 

Plz make Ur excuses more believable. It's so unoriginal I can't even post this on r/OopsDidntMeanTo. 

Adora: 

I really didn't mean to 🥺

Adora: 

I mean 

Adora: 

Glimmer didn't mean to 

God, Adora was so stupid. Yet here Catra was, blushing like a fool. When she doesn’t answer for a while, her phone starts pinging again with notifications. 

>Adora liked your photo

>Adora liked your status >Adora reacted to your comment >Adora liked your photo

It goes on for another 23 times and Catra scrolls through it, dumbfounded. Unblocking her was  a mistake. 

---- 

As promised, Adora would visit her garage when her shifts were over bringing groceries. In exchange Catra would cook, as it seemed like Adora would burn water if she tried. 

It started off as a weekly thing, but in a true Adora-like fashion it ended up like this everyday. They would talk for hours, catching up on their lost years together. 

Adora talked about all sorts of things, like how hard it was adjusting to the soft beds at first and how she requested a hard one. She told her about the contents of the letters she would send to Catra that never went received. Catra just listened, gratified to hear that Adora missed her in their time apart even half as much as she did. 

They would sing the little songs they invented back when they were kids and make up whole new ones as they waited for the food. Adora even started learning how to cook after watching Catra, and she would barge in uninvited with new recipes. The food tasted better with company, and Adora took great pleasure in piling her seconds. 

Catra would show her the local dumpster and they would go scavenging for items they needed. She taught her how to repair the things they found using Youtube tutorials, and how to disinfect them. It was fun watching Adora try to haggle for prices at the market, or her face when she realized she had to use the outhouse to go to the bathroom at Catra’s. 

Days bleed into months, their easygoing friendship making Catra feel at peace for the first time in forever. 

Right now they were currently in their trial exam period, which functioned both as practice for their final exams and half of their final marks. They were sitting in the library, chatting about their future majors. 

Catra taps a pencil to her chin. ‘Let me guess, you want to do art. No, art history.’

‘Political science, actually! Did you know Eternia University has the number one ranked Political Science course in the entire country?' Adora says, flipping through the uni coursebook. 

'Wao, future leader of the free world huh? That's kinda hot.' Catra teases, while Adora swats her in embarrassment. 

'What about you?' 

'Double degree of Law and Social Work.' Catra replies. 'Cliche I know. But I just want to be in a position where I can sue the shit out of Shadow Weaver. The system is corrupt, and there's thousands of kids being abused.' 

'Wow, you're so cool Catra.' Adora says in awe. 'You're so smart, you'd definitely get in.' 

'Damn right.' She scoffs, crossing her arms. 

'You're gonna love Eternia. I went to their open day, the campus is gorgeous. Oh my gosh we could dorm together!' 

'Gross, who'd want to be your roommate?' 

'You would.' 

'Ew, you're so full of yourself. Anyway get off me, I have work soon and I need to get changed.' 

'Ah yes, the cute Burger King apron. I never get tired of it.' 

They would always flirt back and forth like this, but nothing ever came out of it. 

With her friendship came the feelings that she had repressed long ago, unknotting and resurfacing like they had never gone at all. However she had no idea if Adora even liked her in that way, given how affectionate she was with Bow and Glimmer. She was popular with boys and girls alike, but she never dated anyone. Catra never dared to ask. 

Once Adora had fallen asleep in Catra's bed, and the brunette had woken up to the other girls arm around her and their feet tangled together. It reminded her of when they shared the bed as kids, but now they were grown up and this kind of thing didn't have an innocent meaning anymore. Having her there made her heart race and her palms sweaty.

She had wanted to kiss her then. She wanted to kiss her now. Catra wanted every single morning to end up like that. 

-- 

Adora:

Your birthday is soon! Did you want anything?

You, Catra thinks, like a huge sap. 

Catra:

My sanity back. 

Adora: 

Oh my gosh, we could throw you a party at my place! You’re turning 18 right? We could go out drinking! Angella has this amazing vintage wine collection and I could make cocktails!  

Catra receives another wall of text, basically planning the entirety of this birthday party with Bow being the DJ and how Glimmer could make these buns that were to die for. Adora starts going through the entire party guest list until she has to cut in. 

Catra: 

lol calm down 

Adora: 

Does this mean Ur on board? 🎉

Catra: 

yes fine since you won't shut up about it 

Adora: 

AAAAAAAH YOU'RE THE BEST!!!!!!! ♥��♥️♥️♥️ U WILL NOT REGRET THIS 

DW I WILL PLAN EVERYTHING <3333 

💗💖💖😻

The excessive amount of heart emojis make Catra grin dumbly into her palm. 

She's glad they're not video chatting, or Adora would've already taken a screenshot. 

---

It’s the day of her 18th birthday, and she’s nearing the end of her shift. The best friend squad were waiting for her at their usual table so they could give her a ride. 

‘Hey Catra. Can I speak to you out back?’ Lonnie asks, gesturing outside. 

What the heck, did she do something wrong? It’s been pretty peaceful as of late, and Catra tries to remember if she had done anything to Kyle recently. She nods, chucking her apron at the back as she tries not to notice Adora’s eyes following her. 

Catra goes out to the back of the store, the night air nipping at her shoulders. Lonnie waits for her there, biting her lip.

‘What’s up? Don’t tell me you’re giving me a raise.’ Catra jokes. 

Lonnie looks conflicted, and she takes a big breath. 

‘I’m sorry but our store isn’t doing so well. I know you’re turning 18, and that means we can’t afford to keep you on anymore.’

‘What…’ 

Catra felt numb, like she wasn’t really there in the back alley with Lonnie. It felt like an out of body experience. She could only stare at her, betrayed. 

Like Lonnie could read her mind, she tries to correct herself. ‘It wasn’t my decision, it was Octavia’s.’

Of course it was. Her regional manager was the reason she could never just swipe food while she was working. Octavia never liked her, she always reviewed the security cameras and told her off for goofing around. She must’ve known the door incident was on Catra’s shift, and what really happened despite Adora’s cover up. This ‘layoff’ was just an excuse to get rid of her from a financial standpoint. 

‘Thank you for all your hard work over these past 3 years. I know you’re going through a rough time, so we will of course give you a recommendation.’

Catra just nods. 

She returns to her shift, robotically going through the motions. Catra doesn’t even say anything sassy when Adora asks for a burger with no patty and no onions and no sauce, only cheese on bread.

The lack of a clever comeback to their gag routine has Adora concerned. ‘Are you okay?’ 

Of course she wasn’t. How could she be? She was going to have to vacate her garage space, not like she had anywhere to put her furniture in. What the hell was she going to do? 

‘I’m fine.’ She says, even though tears were threatening to burn a hole in the back of her eyelids. ‘Just...rough day.’ 

‘It’s your birthday! The party will cheer you up.’ Bow says brightly. ‘I have the sickest playlist of all time, you're gonna love it.' 

'My mum isn’t home so we have free reign over the entire house! Come on girl, let's get you changed!' Glimmer crows, too excited about the party to pick up on Catra's mood. 'Makeover time!!' 

The two of them force her into Glimmer's Mercedes, on their way to buy every alcohol imaginable from the bottle shop before they go to her house. 

The last thing Catra wanted to do was play dress up or even go to her party, but Adora had planned for so long for this. It would definitely ruin the entire night if she refused to go. 

Out of all the times they had hung out, she’s never been to Adora’s house. She leans her head against the window when they drive into the fancy part of town, by the lakeside with the multi-million dollar yachts parked in the water. 

That still doesn't prepare Catra for when security lets them in through the black gates to the biggest mansion she’s ever seen. There were fountains, perfectly manicured lawns, a tennis court, and was that a helicopter pad?! 

It was incredible, Catra could only walk in a daze with her jaw dropped on their polished marble floors. So Glimmer was rich, rich. No wonder she was put out that Adora had her 18th birthday at Burger King. 

Catra looks at Adora with a dumbfounded expression, and the blonde looks almost embarrassed when they have to get into an elevator to go to her room. 

Glimmer picks out a hybrid of clothes from her and Adora's closets. The walk-in wardrobe is huge, like a department store full of designer clothes, shoes, jewellery and bags. 

Her wardrobe alone is the size of Catra's home. The brunette suddenly understands why Adora cried upon seeing her concrete garage space. Looking at it, she wanted to cry too. 

Glimmer sets her down on her huge poster bed as she brings out a checkered crop top, ripped black garter shorts and an expensive looking black leather jacket with a gold trim. While Catra reluctantly gets changed, Glimmer picks out a pair of black strappy heeled boots and a hair straightener to battle the bush on Catra’s head. 

She sits still while Glimmer goes to work on her face, bringing out an entire Sephora’s worth of makeup. When Catra looks in the vanity mirror, she almost doesn’t recognize herself. Her eyes were framed with false eyelashes, a swooping cateye, smokey eyeshadow, sharp contour and her lips were now cherry red with bold lipstick. Glimmer applies the finishing touches with silver rings and clip on piercings. 

She hears Adora inhale with shock from the staircase in her bedroom. 

‘Catra you look incredible!’ She gasps. Adora was wearing this cute backless white dress tied with strings, short enough that it cropped above her knees. She was wearing sparkly wedges to go with it, and her hair was curled instead of her usual ponytail. Her delicate gold sword necklace frames her collarbones. 

Catra’s throat goes dry. ‘Uh- You too.’ 

Glimmer smirks, satisfied with her work. She gets changed into her own outfit, a short purple tulle lace dress with a white fur trim and a cute Gucci clutch to accompany it. The pink haired girl spritzes them all with her various floral and sea spray scented perfumes before they head back downstairs.

‘Wow you guys look amazing!’ Scorpia marvels, and Adora’s friends voice their approval as well.

‘Gosh this place is crazy.’ Scorpia whispers to Catra. ‘Did you see their pool? We should’ve just held the swimming carnival here!’ 

Catra opens her mouth to tell her how Lonnie had let her go, but Sea Hawk’s booming voice interrupts them. 

'I challenge you to the ultimate game of BEER PONG!' Sea Hawk announces, spinning the ball on his fingertips. 

Of course this gets everyone's competitive spirit going, and everyone gets into pairs. 

After a few drinks Catra has almost forgotten what she was worrying about earlier, too focused on the buzz. Her and Adora demolish the other teams by a landslide with their impeccable aim. 

Soon the attendants came out with dinner, and it was lavish with every food you could imagine. Lobster, kobe beef, hor d'oeuvres, beluga caviar, kale, and opulent ice cream were all among the plates of food on the table.

They bring out a massive 3 tiered truffle cake, the words 'Happy Birthday' written with an oddly crude drawing of Catra. 

'You drew this?' She asks, and Adora nods happily. 'You worked so hard on mine, so.' Catra doesn’t have the heart to tell her that the cake was $7 and the drawing of her forehead was meant as an insult. 

They sing the birthday song for her, and this time no one brings up the cake cutting tradition. 

After dinner they sit outside in the garden around the bonfire Sea Hawk had made. He was drunkenly singing a loud shanty while Bow piled in the wood, fanning the flames. Frosta sips on a mocktail, the only one there who wasn’t old enough to drink yet. The fire flickers and dances, casting shadows around them. 

Catra downs a few more cocktails and jello shots as she waits for Mermista to light up some fireworks. Apparently it was illegal, but Mermista just waved her off, telling her that she’ll just pay the penalty fee as Catra’s birthday gift. Sea Hawk really did rub off on her. 

When she successfully sets them off they light up the sky in dazzling multicoloured sparks. Adora’s friends whoop with glee, taking photos and videos to commemorate the moment. 

Adora's side profile is lit up in the dark, and she looks impossibly beautiful among the backdrop of stars. Longing tears at her chest, Catra wants to hold her hand but her throat feels too tight and she can’t move. The truth was that she knew she had always had feelings for Adora, even back when they were just kids back in the foster home. But like a coward, she could never voice them for fear of Adora leaving her side. 

A loud neighing can be heard from the stables in response to the loud booming noises from the fireworks. 

'Swifty!' Adora says, standing up. The moment's breaks and Catra reels back her hand. 'Stay here, I'll be right back.' 

Her chance disappears, she couldn’t say it after all. She watches her go tend to her horse, feeling stupid. 

‘Yoohoo~, want a rematch?’ Sea Hawk calls out from the patio, pouring vodka into tiny glasses. 

‘Don’t mind if I do.’ Catra replies. She definitely didn’t know her alcohol tolerance levels yet, so it was the perfect time to take that to the test. 

Catra confidently does a whole line of shots, determined to drink herself into unconsciousness. Every time she sees a flash of Lonnie or Adora’s face in her mind, she takes another swig. Everyone is cheering her on, screaming the song ‘Shots’ over and over again, also all drunk out of their minds. Sea Hawk taps out at the 5th drink, and everyone screams at Catra’s flawless victory. Scorpia lifts her into the air to do a victory lap, cheering. 

Adora finally makes an appearance, alerted by the sound of Catra's shrieky laughter as Scorpia swings her around. 

‘Don’t worry, I can take it from here.’ Her school captain says pulling Catra away from her friend. Scorpia just shrugs and makes her way to the food table.

‘Catra, maybe you should slow down.’ Adora tells the giggling girl in her arms. 

‘Noo way.’ She slurs, she was enjoying the feeling too much, the alcohol burning through her body, making her feel lightheaded. The light up disco dancefloor starts to blur into a kaleidoscope of colours. 

‘You got some weed?’ Catra asks, seeing Perfuma light a bowl. The taller girl hands her an already rolled up one and Catra snatches it to take a long drag. The smoke hits her lungs and she starts coughing. 

‘Oi Perfuma, why did you bring drugs? Angella will kill me!' Adora gripes, trying to wrestle the blunt away from Catra. 

‘Aw don't be like that! I made some edibles for you guys to try.’ Perfuma says cheerfully, pointing to the pot brownies. 

‘See? Scorpia likes them.’ She gestures at the other girl, who seemed to be currently tripping out of her mind and eating everything on the table. 

Catra goes to reach for one, but Adora grabs her by the wrist to lead her back inside. 'Alright, you're done for the night. Everyone say bye!' 

‘Byee Catra!’

‘Happy birthday!!’

Adora grabs her by the waist to lead her to her bedroom, Catra wobbling after her in the heels Glimmer lent her. 

'Ugh Adoraaa, don't be such a party pooper. I'm fine.' She moans, leaning heavily on the other girl. 'Don't you have a shift tomorrow afternoon? I don't want you getting hungover or drug tested.' Adora chides, rummaging around the dark for the light switch. 

Catra snorts. 'Oh you don't have to worry about that anymore. Got laid off.' 

Adora looks at her in confusion, until realization dawns on her. 'Wait, is that why Lonnie took you outside?' 

'Say, I never got to give you your birthday gift.' Catra pushes her hair back, voice sultry as she flings off her jacket. She never pinned herself down as a horny drunk, but here they were. Catra shoves Adora onto the bed, straddling her. Her golden hair spills over the mattress, soft like spun silk. 

'You still want that kiss?' Catra whispers in Adora's now burning red ear. 'My knife touched the bottom.' 

Adora's face now resembled a fire truck, mouth gaping in shock.

'C-Catra, I…' 

Catra presses their lips together, silencing her. She knows she probably tastes like alcohol and weed right now, but she couldn't care less in the moment. Adora's mouth is still slack jawed from mortification, so she takes the opportunity for tongue. She frowns and moves down to her neck when Adora doesn’t return the kiss. 

'Catra, what are you doing-' 

Catra bites down on Adora's nape. The blonde underneath her lets out a soft gasp, arching her back. Her gold manicured nails dig into her shoulder. 

'Stop, you're not thinking straight-!' 

'Sure ain't.' Catra grins, licking a stripe down the base of her neck. Adora’s necklace chain jingles with the movement. There was now an impressive hickey there, blooming violet on her pale skin. She pauses to admire her handiwork. 

'This isn't you talking, you'll, you'll regret this in the morning.' Adora stutters. She's shivering, their hands now laced together, silver rings clanking. 

 'I know. I don't care.' She replies, kissing her again. Adora's teeth nick her lip. The alcohol in her system makes her feel lightheaded, confident. No way would she have managed this sober. Adora tastes better than she does, sweet like blueberry soju. Catra's hands wander down further, pulling the strings to untie the back of her dress-

'Catra stop!' Adora suddenly shouts, striking Catra across the cheek in a deafening slap. 

Adora's eyes were blazing, almost teary in the dark. Her breathing was irregular, panting in and out. Catra stills, clutching her cheek. The look in her eyes sobered her immediately. 

Adora looks down at her palm, realizing what she just did. 'Sorry for hitting you!' She flounders. 'It's just that, you're only doing this because you’re drunk and upset, right?’

Catra just stares at her before climbing off. Cold realization settles as the fog in her brain clears. 'You're right. Forget it.' 

She sits on the edge of the bed, numbly watching Adora hurriedly trying to re-tie the back of her now wrinkled dress. Her lips are stained with Catra’s red lipstick. 

Adora catches her looking, and she quickly turns away to smooth down her hair with her fingers. 'You've had more than enough to drink tonight. I’ll get you some water to clear your head.’

She gets up to turn on the light switch, and Catra blinks in the harsh light from the chandeliers. 

‘Come on, let’s get you sobered up, okay?’ Adora leads her to the kitchen on the same floor, gingerly placing her friend on the slippery bar stool. 

The blonde goes to get the chilled jug of infused water from the fridge and pours it into a glass. Adora slides it across the island, and Catra reluctantly takes it. She sips at it, mint and lemon on her tongue. It tasted way better than her hose water. 

‘I’ll uh, pick out some groceries for you since we’re here and all.’ Adora says awkwardly into the silence, turning around to rummage through her pantry. 

Suddenly Catra is brought back to the whole reason why she was sitting here in this oversized mansion in the first place. Their friendship agreement. The one she had just violated. Catra had never felt more stupid to mistake Adora’s kindness and guilt for actual feelings. She felt like a charity case, waiting to collect food from the soup kitchen.

Of course Adora didn't like her back. She just saw her as someone needing to be saved. The product of survival guilt. Catra wanted to whack her head on the corner of her marbled countertop and not wake up. 

Adora takes out a green plastic bag, and starts filling it with everything and anything she can get. Cans, pasta, biscuits, fruits and vegetables. Actually this feeling was more like being one of those poor kids that white girls would pose next to for their Instagram after their trip to Africa. 

Did Adora have fun, volunteering to slum it up in her place while she returned here? All she ever wanted her entire life was to be Adora’s equal. 

Scorpia and Sea Hawk's loud laughter and DJ music can be heard downstairs in the garden, beyond the tall golden trimmed windows. The class difference between them stretched like an unfathomable canyon. Living the classy bougie dream until the clock struck midnight and she was back in her run down garage. Except soon she won’t even have that anymore. Why did Adora have to bring her here? It was almost cruel. 

Catra's suddenly overcome with the urge to vomit. She nearly falls off the high chair in her rush to throw up the unholy cocktail of alcohol into the sink. Tears bead in her eyes from the sour taste as she continues to vomit out everything she ate that night. She can feel Adora by her side, patting her back reassuringly.

It was by far the worst birthday she has ever had. 

--

The morning of, Catra woke up in Adora’s bed with a splitting headache. 

Unfortunately she was not given the gift of amnesia, as she vividly remembered every last excruciating detail about last night. 

She spots Adora’s mop of blonde hair under a blanket on the floor, even though there were a billion other free spare rooms to sleep in. Adora was probably too afraid to share the same bed as her now.

Catra’s borrowed crop top digs uncomfortably into her skin, and she angrily flings it off her body. The shorts stick to her like a second skin, smelling of tequila. She grabs her old Burger King uniform and puts it on, though even this didn’t belong to her now. 

Adora shifts in her sleep, and Catra lightly steps over her to get to the door. The last thing she wanted was for Adora to wake up. 

As soon as she’s out, she runs out to the elevator and bangs frantically on the buttons until it sends her to the bottom floor. The lift opens with a ding and in her haste she almost crashes headfirst into Glimmer. 

‘Oh hey! Are you going to work?’ Glimmer greets. She was in her silk pajamas and slippers, holding a glass of orange juice. 

‘Uh. Yeah.’ Catra lies, trying her best to look natural. 

‘Some party last night huh? Lucky today is a Saturday.’ Glimmer says conversationally, unaware of Catra’s urge to throw her across the room. ‘Hey, what happened to your cheek?’

Catra clutches her face, it still strung from where Adora struck her. ‘Nothing.’

Glimmer raises an eyebrow. ‘Well anyway, did you wanna stick around for  breakfast? The cooks made pancakes, bacon, eggs, the whole deal.' She peeks behind Catra. 'Is Adora still not up yet?’ 

As much as Catra wanted to scream get out of my way she schools her expression to her best customer service smile. ‘Nope she’s still sleeping it off. Anyway I’m gonna be late so I can’t stick around.’

‘Did you need a lift?’ Glimmer asks. It dawns on the brunette she couldn’t exactly run the entire way back home. ‘I’ll ask one of the drivers to take you back so you make it to your shift.’

Catra thanks her lucky stars that Glimmer was still too hungover to drive her. She wouldn’t have been able to dodge her questions if she had. 

‘Yes please.’ Catra says, giddy with relief. ‘Thank you.’ 

‘Ooh and before I forget, Adora told me last night to give you this.’ Glimmer says, grabbing the green bag of groceries off the counter. The shorter girl bundles it into Catra’s arms before she can object. 

‘Get home safe.’ She says, waving as the attendant leads her out the door. 

Catra looks down at the cans of food in her arms and doesn’t say anything.  

------

The days leading up to graduation were painful, to say the least. 

They more or less pretend the kiss didn't happen. Adora never brings it up, and neither does Catra. 

She would stare at the ceiling, wishing she had never gotten piss drunk at her birthday and kissed her. Adora was right, she did regret it. It was awful, the look on Adora's face when she slapped Catra replays in her mind and nightmares over and over again. It was mortifying. 

Adora still messages her every 3 days, and Catra still replies, though her words are empty and devoid of banter. I'm worried about you, she says. I'm fine, Catra always responds. 

The brunette continues to humour her to keep the peace, only shutting down when her old job was mentioned. Catra doesn’t allow Adora back into her home again. 

Sometimes they study together, but she can't concentrate when Adora wears her glasses. Her heart hurts, so she cradles her cheek and tries not to remember. 

The hickey she had branded Adora's neck with had been covered with foundation until it faded away. None of her friends had teased her about it, so she clearly had not told a single soul what had happened. 

Catra bites at the scab on her lip from where Adora’s teeth nicked her until it bleeds. She wants to apologize, but the words stick on her tongue and she can't bring herself to talk about that night. 

Catra knew Adora was only here by her side to alleviate her guilt. Shame buries itself under her skin every time she's near her, like she was too embarrassed to even exist in the same space as Adora. She wants to disappear. 

Exams are hard, and without an internet connection after the library closes at 6pm made it difficult to study. She tries to use the Mcdonald's wifi but soon just ordering a water cup wasn't enough for the workers to let her stay. It was a fruitless effort anyway, in her heart she knew she wasn't going to come out on top. Her ranking had slipped, she wasn't even at second place anymore. Rent was due at the end of the month, and without her Burger King wage she knew she'll be kicked out sooner than later. 

Catra felt stressed and self destructive, and the only thing that kept her from falling off the edge completely was Scorpia. As much as she hated depending on others, she'd much rather her old coworker than Adora. 

Her classmates seemed to like this new, muted down version of Catra who didn't argue and just stayed quiet most of the time. Fighting back was too difficult when all she wanted to do was blend into the wallpaper. All they talked about was where they were going for vacation after graduation, and Catra certainly had nothing to contribute to that conversation.

She felt like crying, all the time. It was agony, wanting to burst out into tears randomly while she sat wasting away in the student council room. Despite herself, she missed Burger King, and she just kept getting ghosted or rejected in her other job applications. Sometimes when she really wanted to indulge herself, she'd go cry silently in the school toilet stall. 

Glimmer notices the change, and she catches her glaring. 'You don't seem as alive lately. Your eye bags are huge.' 

'S'fine.' Catra replies, hiding her hands so she doesn't see how they shake. Honestly Catra couldn't remember the last time she slept.

'Pfft, don't lie to me. Adora's worried about you. You're getting skinnier, and your eyes are always raw. All you do is stare into space.' 

Catra bites down on her nails. Of course she knew that. But she's gone through this before, and she'll do it again. 

'What happened between you two?’ 

‘None of your business.’ Catra replies, shuffling her way to the hall. 

--

Their graduation ceremony starts off uneventfully. Every student’s parents except Catra’s sit proudly in the audience, eager to watch their kid graduate. One by one they receive their certificate and return to their seats. 

Adora and Catra stand side by side onstage, as Adora makes their final speech as School Captain. Through the blinding lights, she sees Angella waving proudly at her adoptive daughter in the crowd. 

Catra looks at Adora in the corner of her eye. She must look pathetic, lovesick and pining after someone she couldn’t have. 

‘It’s been such an honour serving the entire faculty and students of this school. I couldn’t have done it without my amazing Vice-Captain and all of my prefects.

Now I’m proud to hand over my badge to the next School Captain, Frosta.’ 

They go through the rest of the ceremony like that, each member of the student council handing their badges to their successors. 

Soon their Principal comes up to the podium, tapping it once and clearing her throat. 

‘Announcing our honor student, and the winner of the scholarship to Eternia University…’ Castaspella says, turning over the sign card. 

‘None other than our school captain, Adora!’

Everyone starts clapping, and Adora walks across the stage to shake Castaspella's hand. 

Sounded about right. Catra never won against Adora in her entire life. She had already expected this outcome. Like a game of cat and mouse, going over and over for all eternity. 

Adora would excel with her elite education and secure a well paying job. Catra would struggle at the bottom indefinitely, never amounting to anything. She never would, if Adora was still there next to her. When the blonde re-entered her life, everything she had been working towards for years just collapsed. Her job, her home, her School Captain status, her chance at the scholarship, her sanity. 

She had to be wiped clean. A fresh start. 

The flower petals were falling, the streets decorated with a vibrant pink. The other students mill out of the crowd with their parents, chatting excitedly about what was next in their futures. She waits for Adora underneath a tree.  

'Congratulations.' Catra says, when she finally spots the other girl in the crowd. Adora pulls away from Angella’s embrace to meet her. 

'You deserve this so much more than I do.' Adora says, her voice pained like she didn't just win a full ride to her dream university. 'You should take it.'

'It's in your name, silly.' Catra replies, lightly tapping her with her rolled up certificate.

'Besides, I knew you'd get into Eternia, so I never applied.'

Adora blinks dumbly. '...What? Aren’t we going to the same university?’ 

She always was a bit slow on the uptake. ‘Only you decided that, stuupid. Say, it's about time we ended this right?' 

‘Catra, what are you...' 

'Our deal. You don't need to feel guilty anymore or bring me anything.' Catra says, her voice sounding like it didn't belong to her. She rummages in her bag, bringing out Adora's spare varsity jacket that she hadn’t returned. 'Here, take this. Thank you for all the help.' 

'What do you mean? You want to stop being friends?' Adora says in disbelief, taking the jacket.  

Catra nods. ‘I can’t continue with the arrangement. I hope you understand.’ 

‘I don’t! Was I the only one who thought we were friends, real ones?’ Adora asks.

‘...That’s right. I never saw you as a friend. You were just a meal ticket to me. Are you happy now?’ Catra snaps back. Shit, that wasn’t what she meant to say. She had planned to end this quickly and painlessly, on a high note. Trust Adora to put up a fight. 

Something seems to click in Adora’s brain. ‘Is this about the night of the party?’

‘Figure that out yourself.’ Catra replies, turning to walk away. 

Adora grabs onto her arm. ‘Wait! If- if that’s what you want, I’ll give it! Just don't go!' 

This dumb blonde really was offering up her body, out of what? A sense of duty? How stupid. 

‘Is that right?’ Catra says, walking closer to her. Adora backs up until she is pinned to the tree. They’re face to face now. 

‘Can you really do this?’ Catra lifts Adora’s chin by a finger. 

Finally it seems to dawn on Adora exactly what Catra wanted. She swallows, biting her lip. 

There’s a flicker of hesitation, before Adora’s eyes squeeze shut defiantly. The blonde is shaking like a leaf, her breath coming out in panicked stutters from her pursed lips. 

Catra just stares at Adora’s scrunched up face impassively. Her scared reaction was the only confirmation she needed for closure. 

She flicks the other girl’s forehead, and her big blue eyes open in confusion.

‘Chill out, I’m not that evil to do it to someone so unwilling.’

Adora blinks, clutching her forehead. ‘Catra?’

Suddenly Angella’s voice cuts through their conversation from the car park. ‘Adora dear, are you done chatting with your friend? We have reservations!'

‘Um, I…’ Her old school captain opens her mouth to say something, but Angella's started to lose her patience. 'Adora, how long are you going to stand there? Glimmer is already waiting for us at the restaurant!' 

Catra just smiles tiredly. ‘Take care, dummy.’ 

She watches Adora being dragged off unwillingly by her adoptive mother to the car. 

Catra lets out a sigh. Her phone pings with a message from Scorpia, and she knows it's time to go. 

---

By the time Angella releases her from their graduation celebration, Adora can feel that it's already too late.

Adora: 

Please, can we talk? Let me fix this

A pop up appears over the screen. 

Message Not Sent

This person isn't receiving messages at this time. 

Adora sends another message, but they all go undelivered. Catra had blocked her again. Panic spikes through her veins, and she quickly dons on a jacket and grabs her car keys. 

She sneaks out that night, down the familiar winding path through the bush that led to Catra's place. 

'Catra?' She rolls up the garage door, blinking in the darkness. When her eyes adjusted, she found Catra's old home completely emptied. 

All the furniture and items her friend had collected over the years, they were all gone. The little stove where they cooked, the old mattress where they talked late into the night, all vanished like they were never there. 

A single green plastic bag remained on the floor untouched, filled to the brim of food. 

[buckstaposition]

I cling to your lips like gloss (2)

a Javier Peña x OFC story

also on AO3

author: @youhavereachedtheendofpie (in case u wanna come say hello on main but no pressure)

rating/warnings: swearing, mentions of character death, some mentions of sexual situations but nothing explicit, spoilers for season 2 (should probably have tagged ch1 for this too oops)

words: 6607, no regrets

summary: it’s not a date if it’s for work

Author’s note: There is so much research that went into this I would just like to say thank you internet for letting me look up stuff from the comfort of my own home at unholy hours even though I did get very distracted while looking up late 80s wedding dress fashion. Also bless the s2 dvd extra which was a director’s commentary on s2 ep10 and very informative.

—

Tag list: @keeper0fthestars @opheliaelysia @dindjarindiaries @fromthedeskoftheraven @shikin83 

(message me if you want to be added to the list. or just message me in general)

and also I urge you to look at the beautiful moodboard that @huliabitch made for me! I love it so much!

Masterlist

Prologue

Chapter 1 - The Informant

Chapter 2 - A Wedding and Four Funerals

"All the best from Mr DEA." Diana said as she threw herself down in the seat across from her best friend. Gabriela looked effortlessly glamourous as usual, even though she was just in a blouse and jeans. She just had that air about her, like one of the vintage movie stars, something Diana had never quite been able to match. She was well aware she was downright frumpy in comparison, not one to catch eyes just by walking past. For the most part, that suited her. Gabi tried to seem nonchalant about the greeting.

"Oh?" She sipped gingerly from her drink and put her menu away. "You finally met, then? He's back?"

Diana nodded and stowed away her purse and cardigan. "Yeah, this afternoon and yesterday, in the morning. He seems... nice enough? I don't know. Not a talker, is he? He seems a bit on edge, to be honest. Though I suppose that's to be expected." But despite everything, he still has kindness in his eyes.

Gabi just grinned at her for a long moment, waiting to pounce.

"Yeah, he can be a bit of a grump. ...Handsome though, no?"

Diana sighed, swatting at the other woman with her own menu. "Did it ever occur to you that the newly divorced woman might have had her fill of men for the time being?"

"It has occcurred to me that five years of unchanging, uninspired missionary for half an hour exactly, twice a week, with that wet blanket you married might have left you with the need to really be filled by a man for once."

"Gabriela!" she gasped, choking on thin air and mortification, even though their conversations would often get way more explicit than this. Just never with her being the subject. Gabriela just smiles like butter wouldn't melt in her mouth, hailing a waiter to give him their order.

"Speaking of newly divorced: has the dipshit finally signed the papers then?" Diana groaned, throwing her glasses down onto the table to massage her temples.

"No, he's dragging his feet. Which is ridiculous, it's not like I want anything from him. It's not like we're fighting tooth and nail over every other thing, like that American movie, the one we watched on your mom's old VHS player, you know? With Meryl Streep? In any case, now he decides to fight? If you can call that fighting."

"Kramer vs Kramer." Gabi remarked sagely. "Yeah... At least you don't have children together. That could really have gone ugly. I still don't know what you ever saw in that man."

"Oh shut it. I used to be fond of Juan Mateo; I don't know when that changed." Diana huffed, quickly snatching up her glasses when the waiter sailed over with their drinks and appetizer.

"Well that's the problem, you never loved him! And your parents set too good an example; what could ever live up to that?" She took a generous drag from her drink, then dug into the food with hungry abandon. "At least you're finally rid of his snoring. And his mother."

"God, she really hated me. Couldn't bear it that her precious boy brought some lowly scum from the comunas into her pristine middle class home. Marrying me might have just been the only demonstration of free will that man has ever managed." Diana allowed herself to seethe a bit at the memory, taking it out on her food as she stabbed at it roughly. "And I will definitely not miss the snoring."

"Mr DEA barely snores." Gabriela remarked lightly. "Just ...very softly. It's quite cute."

"Since when do you let clients stay to actually sleep?" Diana inquired around a mouthful, brows scrunched. Gabriela hummed thoughtfully, swiping some sauce off her plate with a piece of bread.

"Ah, but he was so tired, poor thing. It wouldn't have been safe to send him back out, he would have crashed his car and died in a ditch somewhere, which would have been a real shame. I just let him nap for an hour or so that one time. Besides, I wasn't in any state to do much myself after he blew my back out." She had a way of being so nonchalant about these things that Diana supposed came from a sort of professional equanimity. Diana possessed no such poise and gawked openly, the wheels turning in her head as she recalled previous conversations and connected dots.

"Oh." She breathed as realization hit. "Oh! No! That was him? You're kidding me. How am supposed to look him in the eye now?" Gabi was already cackling, barely able to hold her laughter as Diana sputtered, recalling the very detailed recounting she'd received after the night in question. "You said you felt that for days after!"

"I did, but it was worth it." Gabi was now subtly holding her sides, having pushed her empty plate away to be collected. "You see, you're my dearest and oldest friend and I only want the best for you."

"I'm sure Mr DEA would be delighted to know of your crude attempts to pimp him out." Diana snarked, pushing her own plate to the side just in time to be whisked away by the waiter. "You're incorrigible. This is serious. Besides, I think he really liked you, actually."

"He liked the illusion of intimacy, like most of my clients. Lonely but with committment issues to the moon and back. It's not like I'm telling you to marry him. I'm just trying to get you properly laid for once." Gabriela scoffed. She could be so detached sometimes. In fact, one could call it downright cynical. But Diana had known her since they were both in pigtails and could detect the care behind even the most jaded words.

"Oh whatever. I request a change of topic. How's your book coming along? Any progress on that chapter that's been giving you so much trouble?" Diana asked sweetly, making the other woman glare at her over the plates with their main courses as they were being set down. Because yes, Gabriela does indeed write more than letters, and she's good, too. Also, two can play this game of being just slightly mean.

--- --- ---

Javier hated team meetings. And now that he was the boss here he couldn't even get out of them. Worse, he had to lead them. He looked over the assembled agents, glad that he had most of their names down by now. Gladder still that this was a DEA-only event and he wouldn't have to deal with any of Stechner's CIA asswads for now.

"Duffy, where are we on the shipments?" He turned to the other man expectantly. Duffy was one of the few agents here that weren't younger than him; he actually had some experience under his belt, unlike all these fucking greenhorns the higher-ups had sent him. He forced himself to pay attention to Agent Duffy's answer, making notes of important dates as he listened. Operation Cornerstone had, at this point, not yet come to full fruition, but if they continued to put in their due dilligence it was almost certain to turn up something useful. When they'd gone through all the points on his agenda, and after clearing up a few uncertainties, he dismissed the roomful of agents.

"Duffy, got another moment?" Javier stopped the other agent as he turned to leave the conference room.

"Sir?" Duffy sat back down and pulled his writing pad back out.

"Have you come up with any ideas for my informant in Calí?" Javier had mentioned this before, seeing as Duffy was one of the agents permanently stationed at the Calí field office. Now that Escobar was gone it would look suspicious if the head of the DEA in the country trekked up to Medellín every other week, and they needed a better way for Miss Rivas to hand over her collected intel. Duffy cleared his throat and caught the eye of one of his colleagues and waved him over.

"Lopez here has had a few ideas, sir. Tony, tell the boss your ideas for drop-offs."

The other agent was younger, handsome in that pretty way that made girls sigh dreamily, going by his own, admittedly remote, memory of high school and college. Lopez hadn't said much during the meeting, but had that eager glint in his eyes that said he wanted to prove himself. Javier had had that same look when he first came down here; it hadn't survived the first year.

"Let's hear it."

"Okay, so I was thinking the public library might be worth a shot." Agent Lopez pulled a notepad from his own case, squinting down at the scrawled chickenscratch. Javier nodded along, encouraging more than praise. He'd have to run these ideas by Miss Rivas anyway, and if she had concerns they were back at square one. But that was a river he intended to cross when the time came and not a second earlier.

--- --- ---

The satphone was also a good instinct because after their preliminary meetings in April, it gets irritatingly difficult to arrange another one for over a month.

"The what now?"

"The 4th International Poetry Festival. It's on from June 2nd to 8th." she explained patiently. "Orietta Lozano, Gloria Gervitz, Blanca Varela!"

"I assume those are poets."

"Obviously."

"You want me to go to a poetry festival with you?"

"No, I'm taking the week off and I'm going to the festival, and I am also free to meet you. I'm just suggesting that maybe your work hours don't all have to be spent in dreariness and drudgery." Something sizzled on the other end of the line where she was making herself dinner while talking to him, and it made Javier's stomach grumble. "A bit of culture is good for the soul, Agent Peña. You'll burn yourself out with how much you work. When was the last time you ever did anything for fun? Read a book? Hell, listened to music?"

Whenever you call me. She always had music on at home. It drifted through the receiver, a soothing background hum that was too soft to truly make out most times. Add to that the fact that he was still sitting in his office at almost half past seven in the evening, and he didn't have a proper counter-argument.

"Alright, fine. 2nd to 8th, I'll see what I can do."

--- --- ---

She was wearing another belted shirt dress, this one pale yellow and sleeveless, the full skirt reaching to just below the knees. It reminded Javier of the style his mother used to wear when he was little. Saturday, June 4th, had him meet up with Miss Rivas at the Teatro Metropolitano in central Medellín. Her dress contrasted against the blocky red building in a way that tugged familiar, but Javier was trying to train himself to not see blood in every instance of red.

"This is quite a way from Envigado." He announced his approach as soon as he was close enough to not have to shout. She jumped a bit, clearly startled, but her lips pulled into a polite smile when she recognized him.

"Agent Peña." She greeted. "No, cultural grandeur doesn't usually make it out to the comunas." She sat back down on the bench and pulled a flyer from her (rather big) purse, thumbing it pensively. Javier sat beside her, not quite at arms' length. Trying to appear wordlessly inviting, if only to mask how at a loss for words she made him feel. He seemed to be no longer used to normal, civil human interaction.

"Right, there is one reading here at the Metropol that starts in about half an hour that I think you might like. It has a few of the international poets; a few of them will be reading in English. Then there's another one later at the Teatro Carlos Vieco that I'm keen on. It's about half an hour on foot between locations, but there's the open air exhibits that only require a small detour." She pointed it all out on the program as she spoke, Javier silently nodding along in acknowledgement. "I've planned it so there's more than enough time for a lunch break. I hate having to rush through things that are meant to be enjoyed. I brought arepas, but there are usually enough street vendors out and about to get something else, if you prefer." She really did talk a lot. That was surprisingly fine by Javier, since it meant he didn't have to. "Though of course if you'd rather just get your intel and go I understand, but I must insist on at least this first reading, Agent Peña. But otherwise I wouldn't want to impose. I'm sure you have other things to do."

His lips twitched involuntarily and he held his hand out for the program flyer, silently reading it over. None of the names rung any kind of bell. Not that he was much of a poetry aficionado. "Sounds good to me."

She blinked. "Which part?"

He handed her back the flyer, which she took automatically, still eyeing him with uncertainty.

"All of it." She blinked again, looking mildly shocked, the flyer still dangling uselessly from her fingers. "Miss Rivas, I came all the way here and you went through all this trouble planning. It would be a waste to part ways after so short a time."

Truth be told it sounded ...nice. The thought of spending a day just exploring, letting work be work for even just a day (or at least part of it). Despite being an only child, he'd never liked being on his own even when he was young, cherishing every day spent with school friends or any of his numerous cousins. And it wasn't like he'd had to do far less pleasant things for information.

Her expression morphed from uncertain gaping into a wide, pleased smile that he couldn't help but mirror. Maybe she was quite a nice lady after all.

---

"...I have to ask though: What's a ...smit- ...smee-dereen?"

"Smithereens." Javier corrected gently as they exited the venue after the reading. "It means... it's all the small pieces that are left over when something is destroyed. Like with a bomb."

"Hmm," she hummed, pensive as they strolled along with the leisurely flow of the crowd, "I'll have to think a bit more about this." She fished around in her purse, producing bottled water and offering him one. He took it gratefully, unscrewing the cap and taking a sip. "How did you like it, Agent Peña? Already regretting agreeing to this?"

"No." Javier found himself replying perhaps a smidgeon too quickly. "No, it's very uh... enriching." And not what he'd expected at all. Though the festival was now in its fourth year running, he'd never had the chance or the wish, really, to attend it before. He'd barely taken note of its existence, too preoccupied with chasing down leads.

"Hm, you don't have to mollify me, Agent Peña. You'll still get your intel, don't worry." Her expression slipped, from an almost serene smile back into that underlying heaviness that he could identify only now that it had been lifted for a short while.

"Miss Rivas," he said earnestly, "I wouldn't lie to you. I'm just not that good with words. That's why I'm a government agent and not a poet."

That at least made her chuckle a bit. And it was true, too. He felt lighter, in a way, like his mind had been craving a break from the frustrating work of trying to find an in to take down the cartel. Even his shoulders felt less tense here. And it was a beautiful day, too. Warm but not too hot, sunny with a mild breeze. People were out and about around them, festival goers and other citizens alike, mingling freely with a carelessness that would have been unthinkable only a year prior.

"Juan Mateo never wanted to come with me to this." She gestured vaguely at the city and its people around them. "My husband. Ex-husband. Technically still husband because he won't sign the divorce papers." Her features turned tense as she explained, a slight frown appearing between her brows. "Not that it matters now, of course. But goodness, that man had no sense for these things. He thought top shelf coffee was the height of culture. He'd act like going out to a bar one evening every few weeks was a chore beyond compare. Such a martyr!" She huffed and Javier laughed softly, offering to take her bag for a while as she adjusted it on her shoulder for the third time now.

"No, that's alright. It's not heavy. This way." Her hand naturally slipped into the crook of his elbow to steer him down the side of the road and Javier faltered for a moment, cursing himself for wearing a short-sleeved shirt even though it was comfortably warm. He just didn't want to get separated in the bustle of activity, he reasoned. This was a perfectly tame and non-offensive gesture and it would be rude to flinch away, he reasoned. She initiated it, after all. No harm no foul. This was still a professional alliance.

"You think very loudly, Agent Peña." She remarked, lightly squeezing his elbow. "It better not be about work."

"Technically I am at work right now." He countered, covering her hand on his arm with his much larger one and giving it an awkward pat.

"Lucky you." She teased, lightly nudging his side with her elbow.

"Beats paperwork, that's for sure."

They ambled along, weaving through the crowds where they gathered in front of street performers and makeshift stages. Javier couldn't deny that it felt good to feel the sun on his skin, un-recycled air in his lungs; most of all being far away from Stechner and his legion of CIA goons was almost rejuvenating. They fell into a languid rhythm, walking leisurely and stopping every so often to linger a bit where music was being played or more poetry recited, in front of the stalls of local artisans or to look at the sculptures that had been put up as an open air exhibit throughout the city. Every so often, Miss Rivas would tell him some little anecdote, be it about any of the previous festivals or just the city itself. He barely felt the time pass.

By the time they'd made it across the river and to the park wherein the open-air theatre was situated, it was time for a late lunch and Javier felt his stomach start to protest, all that walking serving to work up an appetite.

"...and after school Gabi and I would trek across town to the library and hide by the shelves in the back, the ones with the old classics, and we'd read all the scandalous 19th-century novels about adulteresses and other fallen women. You know, Anna Karenina, Thérèse Raquin, Madame Bovary, Tess of the d'Urbervilles..." Miss Rivas set her bag down and produced a fairly big plastic container from within, setting it on the bench between them. "Perhaps not the most appropriate fare for a couple of fifteen-year-old girls, but it wasn't like we had a whole lot of supervision, you know? It definitely wasn't appropriate to read to a five-year-old, so I guess it's good that Maritza never really paid attention much- Stop my prattling any time, Agent Peña. I know I talk too much; Juan Mateo always used to say so."

Javier paused, an abundantly filled arepa inches from his mouth. "He what now?"

She flushed, looking down and picking at the wrapping paper she'd bundled the food up in. "It's fine, it's not a big deal, really."

"It's not fine." Javier insisted. Told her to shut up, told his own wife that she talked to much! What an ass. He started tearing into the arepa with a glower. They sat in silence for a while, chewing tensely in this little corner of the park at the foot of Cerro Nutibara, in a spot that was fairly hidden among the greenery while still affording a decent view of the city streets below. Javier didn't even know why it irked him so much. There were worse things out there than insensitive husbands. Ex-husbands at that. Still, he seethed quietly in his righteous wrath.

"Wanna see something funny?" She was already digging through her purse, so he didn't see much sense in replying. She pulled a photo from some deep compartment in her wallet, looking down at it thoughtfully for a moment before passing it to him. In his defence, Javier hadn't meant to laugh. It just came out, snorty and half-aborted.

"Hey, at least I managed to evade the poofy sleeves, okay? My mother was dead set on them. She wanted me to look like the English lady… uh, Princess Diana. I think she might have taken the name as a sign."

"That's a.. that's a lot of satin."  And tulle. Javier pressed out, still suppressing his laughter and barely succeeding. He could have pointed out that the mass of ruffles negated any absence of actual puff sleeves, but thought it better to refrain. And it wasn't like she hadn't looked beautiful as a bride, it was more that in that ruffled satin-and-tulle concoction she looked like an unwilling dress-up doll, despite the tasteful off-the-shoulder cut and flattering waistline. It was just... there were a lot of ruffles. There was a lot of dress, period. Paired with an expression that was better suited to a funeral, the effect was almost morbidly comedic.

"Wait till I show you the cake; we were basically identical." It was the dryness of her tone that set him off. There was no suppressing it now, Javier was bellowing, tears forming at the corners of his eyes. It didn't help that the dress fashion hadn't really strayed very far from the 'bigger and more style' in the years since. All things considered, this was a comparatively simple gown, lacking the mass of sparkly appliqués and abundance of bows and flowers that had been popular in the latter years of the previous decade. It just wasn't a style that suited her personality in any way, at all. Her slender figure was absolutely drowned in the sheer volume of the skirt alone. Hell, it completely overshadowed the already forgettable man standing by her side in the photo. Though 'by her side' was a generous descriptor. There was definitely enough space for the Holy Spirit and then some between the couple.

"My mother spent ages on that damn dress. Her hands looked like pincushions by the time she was done; that's why she wore gloves to the wedding."

"She's a seamstress, right? Your mother?" She'd mentioned it in an offhand comment during one of their previous phone calls.

"She was." Diana confirmed, tucking the picture away again. "Didn't think you'd remember that."

"Of course. I listen to everything you tell me."

Diana chuckled, flushing lightly. "It's not even relevant to the case!"

"I listen to everything you tell me." Javier insisted and started gathering up wrapping paper and such to throw away. A quick look at his watch told him they'd have to get moving soon if they wanted to make it to the theatre on time to get decent seats.

"Right." Diana collected her things to stuff them back into her bag. "So it's a no for ruffles, but what would you have me wear, Agent Peña? What do you think suits me?"

Javier couldn't have told even the most skilled interrogation expert what exactly compelled him to answer, and so readily at that, why he had an opinion at the ready in the first place, or at least that's what he preferred to tell himself.

"I think... something soft and flowy, not a whole lot of embellishments, if any. Clear lines and a light fabric, something you can dance in and be comfortable. Definitely no more satin."

She laughed now, as well, eyes twinkling with what he thought was approval. "You are full of surprises. Should I ever get married again, I'll most certainly engage your services as designer, Agent Peña."

"I'll keep a spot open for you. First consultation is free."

---

How her hand can feel so natural there in the crook of his elbow after hardly a day, he cannot tell. All he knows is that by the time the reading at the open air theatre is done the sun has started to dip in the sky and if this was what his work was like more often he'd perhaps be happier in his workaholic ways. Though they haven't broached the topic of work in hours now, instead ambling half-aimlessly northward towards Conquistadores where he's parked his rental car at the hotel he's staying at. Because it is a long way to Envigado and he insisted on driving her home. Because even though now that Escobar is gone Medellín is much safer, but he's never been one to easily trust a good thing.

It's only when they've crossed the big main street Avenida 33 that Miss Rivas gets quieter. She's obviously  tired following their prolonged outing, but he instantly misses the pleasant hum of her voice, her clever little observations- At the same time, it's a comfortable silence, not one weighed down by expectation. She'd even let down her hair from where it had been up in a ponytail for most of the day, most likely to keep the thick curtain of it away from her neck in the heat and sun.

They're just crossing a smaller square, the edge of it lined with shops, the hole-in-the-wall kind mostly, when she suddenly pulls away with a soft instruction to wait there for just a moment, and he's left to look after her flapping skirt with what is probably not the most dignified expression. Defeated, he sat down on the broad edge of a flowerbed nearby and watched her cross to a food vendor, order, and fish around for her wallet to pay, before turning around again with a plastic cup in each hand. Fresas con crema, he can make out upon her approach, and one corner of his mouth ticks up involuntarily.

"Hungry again?" He teased when she got within earshot, handing him one cup and setting the other down beside him along with her purse.

"There's always space for this in my stomach." She retorted primly. "If you don't want any, all the better."

"Thank you for the generous offer, but no. Thanks for this." He makes a show of cupping the treat protectively, fully knowing he'll have to set it down to unwrap the plastic spoon that came with it. It makes her laugh nonetheless, which imbues him with a strange, fluttery sense of accomplishment.

She's still standing, head thrown back and grinning wide, when her gaze catches on something at the far end of the plaza, and her expression morphs from glee to astonishment to rage so quickly it gives Javier whiplash.

"Oh you have got to be fucking kidding me!" Ripping off her glasses and thrusting them into his hands, she began stalking off.

Two things are fortuitous: one, she had to pass Javier to get to whatever she saw and two, his reflexes are still sharp enough for him to jump up and into her path, even having managed to safely deposit the cup of strawberries and cream.

"Whoa, what the hell is it?"

"I- ...she-" Her voice is strained, her whole body taut like a livewire as she attempts to round him and resume her warpath. On instinct, Javier took a few steps backwards, keeping himself between her and her target. It's only his hands on her shoulders that stall her enough for him to be able to whip his head around and follow her eyeline. That side of the square is empty save for an older lady shuffling along, huffing and puffing and blissfully unaware of the wrathful freight train about to rush her. To say Javier was puzzled would be an understatement.

"What, her? The old woman?"

"That's Hermilda Escobar!" She's shaking so much he has trouble keeping a grip on her. "Look at her! The nerve of that woman to show her face here-" She winds out from under his hands, rounding him with a quick sidestep, and he can only match her speed because his legs are longer.

"Hey!" Javier whisper-shouts to be met with flashing eyes, then repeats it more softly. "Hey. What exactly are you planning to do here, huh?"

"I'm gonna give that self-righteous bitch a piece of my mind is what I'm gonna do!" She retorted, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. It's cowing, the single-minded purpose rolling off of her. She's strumming with it, her seething damn near tangible. In her rage, she is ruthless. Javier had no doubt, in that moment, that once let go she might well maul the woman with more than words.

It's instinctive, the way his arm wraps around her. Like the few times he's had to restrain Steve and yet not like that at all. For one Javier doesn't have to go for a near chokehold, though energy-wise her wrath is at least as fierce. So, he wraps one long arm around her waist, hauling her much slighter body against his with a half-turn, her forearms colliding sharply with his chest.

"Easy." He rumbles, his other arm coming up to fold across her shoulders. "Easy. Calm down. Calm down!"

Palms smack against his pectorals and it stings. "Hey!" He tightens his hold around her trembling body, her angry, anguished squirming. Softens his voice. "Hey. Calm down, okay? What're you gonna do, beat up that old woman in the street? Come on, breathe."

The sound that comes out of her is something very closely related to a snarl, and he feels the bite of her nails even through his shirt, but holds fast, continuing to ramble empty phrases with the intent to soothe, or at least distract.

"If you tell me to calm down one more time I will get violent." She promised, hands pushing into his chest in an effort to break his hold. The old woman has almost passed by completely by now, seeming blissfully unaware of the savaging she's escaping. Javier held fast, as tight as he dared, the hand still pinching the pair of glasses between two fingers awkwardly patting at her shoulder while he sways them both, rocking from foot to foot.

By the time Diana has calmed down enough that he feels comfortable loosening his hold, the old woman is long gone from view. He feels her slump in his grip, reflexively tightening his arms again to hold her up.

"Hey," he gentles, lightly nudging the side of her head and thinking, distantly, that all but burying his nose into her soft hair is far too intimate a position for any of this. "Hey, it's alright, I've got you, okay? I've got you."

They're still swaying on the spot, a gentle see-saw motion, and then he felt the hands that had been clenching and unclenching on his chest lose all tension and drop down to the side. She's still shaking, her whole ribcage jumping with the hiccup of suppressed sobs. Somehow, he maneuvers them both around and back the few steps from where their snack and her purse still wait beside the flowerbed.

"Why'd you hand me these, anyway?" It's but a cheap distraction tactic, Javier handed her the glasses back as soon as she sat nevertheless.

"I'm not blind without them." Diana responded tersely, snatching the glasses and cleaning the lenses with the hem of her dress. When she doesn't deign to elaborate, he sighs and stretches from where he'd sat back on his haunches in front of her, resuming his earlier seat and finally unwrapping the spoon. It's a tense silence for a long moment, her aggravation like a pulse around them. Certainly it gives Javier a good bit to think on.

"You wanna tell me what that was all about?"

"Don't condescend to me. You may have been closer to the action, but I've lived here all my life." She ripped open her own packet with a vengeance, digging the spoon into her own portion with such force that the sliced strawberries bleed into the white cream. Javier sighed. Took a moment to order his words before they leave his tongue.

"I just need to know if this," he gestured between her and the edge of the square, "is going to be something that has to be taken into account. I need to know that you're not just in this for revenge. I need to know where you're at mentally. I need to be sure, both for your own safety and the integrity of this operation, that you're not just going to snap one day and try to claw Miguel Rodríguez' eyes out, okay?"

She chews angrily a moment, eyes flashing at him before she stares straight ahead again. The wrath is still rolling off of her in waves, perhaps dipping a bit in its intensity, but far from dulling just yet.

"You want to know my motivations, is that it? Well, let me lay it out for you, Agent Peña: of my entire class, a third never even made it to graduation, for one reason or another. I spent my youth plotting routes around gunfights in the street, with just enough success to still be alive, somehow. My mother was caught in the crossfire of a raid and was afraid to leave the house for years afterwards. My father was on that Avianca flight. My baby cousin Maritza is dead and her baby will grow up without her mother. And throughout it all, I took the coward's way out, moved cities, for university, for work, for marriage, for myself even, and everywhere I went they were, too. The narcos have spun their spider's web across the whole damn country and beyond and sooner or later everyone gets stuck in it. I got stuck in it despite my best efforts, and I'm tired of it. I'm tired of having to flee and turning up in dead ends. Somehow I have landed in this unique position, and I refuse to join them. Is that enough motivation for you, Agent Peña?"

She held his gaze, a challenge in fire, and he wondered how much longer that adrenaline surge would sustain her before she crashed. Wordlessly, he nodded his affirmation.

It's more tense silence after that, thick like stew or the humidity out in the jungle. She doesn't reach for him again as they resume the walk up to his hotel, doesn't casually link their arms like before, choosing instead to fidget with the handles of her bag. He hates it, misses the lightness the day had before. These narcos, they really do poison even the most mundane of things with their long, bloodied shadows. When they get to the hotel's underground garage, she's gone even more quiet, almost deflated. There are no more words exchanged, save for the clipped directions to her aunt's house. At one point, Javier was almost certain she'd dozed off.

---

"Do you ever think you should have been there? When they finally got him?" He'd just parked the car opposite of the house. It's almost completely dark outside by now.

"...Yes." Of course he did. He'd wanted, even needed to. The temporary suspension had not been near as effective a punishment as denying him that. The fruits of his labor, of years spent chasing after shadows and getting himself mired deeper and deeper, until he barely recognized himself when he looked in the mirror. He'd wanted it, sure, but perhaps he hadn't deserved it.

"Why did they send you home?" It's not that Javier is in a particularly obstinate mood, it's just that after the incident earlier, he's reluctant to bring up his own involvement with the cartels of Calí and Medellín, much less Los Pepes, so he gives a non-committal grunt in response. He should have known that wouldn't deter her. "When I first called, Agent Murphy said you had been recalled to the States. I only found out later that that was before they finally got Escobar. Why would a top agent on a case of this magnitude be pulled off and sent back before that?"

"You mean what did I do?" She nodded. There was no getting out of it now. He didn't want to lie to her either. Javier sighed, scratching his thumbnail across his brow. "You're going to look at me differently."

"Perhaps, yes." She took a deep breath, rummaging through her purse and producing a folded up paper. "These are the names of some American banks that I'm very certain help funnel and launder Calí's money. Sorry it's nothing more specific." She placed the paper in his hand, gently closing his fingers over it. "Whatever you tell me, we're in this together, right? We both want to bring them down. I trust you, alright?"

Javier gulped, his fingers tingling under her touch. He pockets the paper to buy time, if only to swallow through his suddenly-too-dry throat. And then he tells her. The dead ends and the crippling bureaucracy, Don Berna, the Castaño brothers and Judy Moncada and Pacho Herrera. His desperate grasping at straws to find a way, any way to throw a wrench in the escalating violence and catch Escobar, how that backfired so spectacurlarly. How he tried to get out, despite knowing that these people do not allow outs. How he'd been played by the fucking CIA because he'd been an idiot falsely believing that the two agencies were operating under even remotely the same objectives. How he'd gone down, almost taking his partner with him, definitely tanking his boss' career. He hasn't spoken to anybody about this in such depth, not even his father. By the end of it, he's exhausted.

"So you're the one Carlos Castaño wanted to feed to the crocodiles."

"What?" He'd expected judgement, even disgust. Certainly not this.

"I overheard Gilberto mentioning it on the phone. I think he must have just learned that you'd be the DEA's man in charge. 'Maybe I should have let you feed that damn DEA agent to the crocodiles after all, Carlos.'  The door wasn't all the way closed, that's how I heard it. I think that was the moment I realized I couldn't wind my way out of this. That either they were going down, or they were going to find out that I was already talking to Agent Murphy and have me... vanished."

"I won't let that happen." Javier promised instinctively, hands tightening on the steering wheel. "Crocodiles though? Really?" Not how he thought he'd end, that was for certain.

"Yeah, they're very uh... charming, huh?"

Javier grimaced. "If I never see any of them again, it'll be too soon."

"Knock on wood." Diana replied and unbuckled herself, pushing open the door.

"I'll walk you. It's dark."

"It's only across the street." She protested, and was that the ghost of a smile on her lips? Javier's hands stilled on his own seatbelt.

"You sure?"

"If my aunt catches me coming home with a man I'll never hear the end of it." Diana slipped out of the car, then bent to grab her purse. "Good night, Agent Peña. Until next time."

"Good night, Miss Rivas."

He waited until she was inside, the door securely locked behind her, before starting the drive back.

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

Chapter 3

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

Author’s note cont’d: if you wanna know what I had in mind, approximately, for the wedding gown see here

The International Poetry Festival of Medellín is a real thing, too. They have a youtube channel

[pyrrhesia]

FF14 Write - ‘Crane’

In which Cwenthryth Sadler finds a round peg for her ro--

...

In which Cwenthryth Sadler finds a better fit.

Aislona Rymmahrwyn belongs to @catpella

People often compared Cwenthryth to a lizard. Mostly, they meant she was cold-blooded, or that there was something in the way she seemed to stare through you without blinking. The most apt comparison, though, was that Cwenthryth liked to get close to the sun. She liked to climb in general. There was a satisfaction to finding a way to scurry up from a back alley, finding footholds in weak limestone or windows. Where a more... uniformly built city, or even the nicer parts of Ul'dah, might have confined its citizens to the street, the slums encouraged movement as the crow flew. There was, for a time, peace. She watched the birds for a time, before closing her eyes, letting the sounds of the world melt away. She'd never have considered herself to meditate, and yet, in these little moments of quiet, she found the strength to keep going... A grunt, followed by frantic scrabbling at the rooftop, sheared through her peace. What. She opened her eyes and put a hand to her dagger, looking over at... the man from the alchemy shop. She craned her neck, this way and that, trying to figure out why he was here. Or, failing that, remember his name. "You're... agh... a hard woman to find, Cwen," the man wheezed. "Good." "Ah... ?" She closed her eyes again. "Didn't want to be found." Grunt. Scrabble. Scuff. "Well, I figured, since we-- nngh!" Cwenthryth sniffed. Her priorities changed. She looked back over. "You brought food?" "I thought... you might..." She unfolded briskly, and hoisted him over the lip. He was a lean, rangy highlander of a similar background, though a second-generation immigrant while she was first. He talked like a local, acted like one, too, but he'd definitely liked the sight of what he saw as a compatriot turning up on his storefront. Cwenthryth, for her part, liked the sight of shawarma. She took it up and gnawed at it, while looking inquisitively at Thelred as he tried to get his breath back. "You figured since we were what?" Cwenthryth asked, between bites. Thelred forced himself to sit up, looking up. Cwenthryth blocked out the sun. "It might be nice to spend time together." "We do spend time together. Did you want sex? It's too open here." She chewed on the shawarma some more. "Maybe time doing something a little different?" he tried. "Just talking." "I'm not good at talking." "Well... neither am I, but you've always been good at listening." He fidgeted as she ate, still looking down at him. "I'd like to think we could do more than just sleep with each other," he hinted. "That maybe we could become partners." "I don't know alchemy. That's why we met." "Not business partners," he said, desperately. "I meant... I wanted to see you as a girlfriend. Not as... whatever we were." Cwenthryth stared at him for a few seconds. It took some time to process. She quite liked what they already had going. Work was hard, she needed relief, she figured he needed relief, they rolled into bed and she was gone by dawn. The idea that someone wanted more... that someone might even want her? That was enticing. "I mean that--" "I know what you mean," she said. "Okay. We can try it. I mean, I'd like that."

Cwenthryth had a few simple rules as a debt collector. She wouldn't hurt peripherals, because that made people act irrationally. And she always made good on threats. The faster she could narrow someone down to making the right decision - that was to say, finding the hidden cache of money which always had a way of mysteriously appearing after some persuasion - the sooner she was out of there. Following these rules, her reputation had grown to the point where, by now, she usually didn't have to get her hands dirty anymore. This was useful. Blood stuck under the nails. She'd managed to get a decent return on her current job, a scion of a Monetarist family who was rich, but not so rich he couldn't bankrupt himself with gambling debts, it had turned out. It was a familiar story. Some genuinely did just wait for death, blowing through whatever they had left and praying their families would bail them out. They generally did, once Cwenthryth had sent them enough fingers. This one, she sensed, might have been of that vintage save for losing his nerve at the last moment. As she forced open the door and slipped inside, she saw, quickly, the telltale signs. Ruinously expensive grog, some tacky new art, and - her eyes lingered - a shape under the covers of a luxurious bed. But the window was open, letting in what could generously be called the atmosphere of Ul'dah. She went over to the window, scanned the area, but the only sign she saw was a distinct dent in the tree beneath. The covers shifted behind her. "Mmn, Alfric, where's my money..." Cwenthryth turned, saw the shape of legs - long, tight legs, her hindbrain noted - stretch out like a cat's, pulling down the covers to reveal a sharp, angular face, with the telltale 'hewn from purple-tinted stone' look of a roegadyn. Her eyes fluttered open, saw Cwenthryth, shut again, then opened wide. "Oh," she said. "He's gone," supplied the debt-collector. "Really? Damn." "You didn't ask for money in advance?" The roegadyn raised an eyebrow. "Generally, people don't dare stiff someone two feet taller than them. The ones who try aren't much of a bother. Are you going to kill him?" "Depends. He's in debt to two different people. Hiring escorts isn't a good look." Cwenthryth cocked her head, considering the other woman. "And you don't look cheap," she concluded. The roegadyn laughed. "Well, thank you! So friendly, for hired muscle. We've no quarrel, right?" "No, so you can stop reaching under the pillow for your knife." The roegadyn paused, then broke out into a laugh. "Can hardly blame me, under the circumstances. When an armed stranger breaks in, no matter how pretty..." Cwenthryth's heart skipped a beat. "Uh," she said. "Can I at least take some of his stuff? I can't imagine he'll ever pay me what he owes. And that was not an experience worth putting on the house, believe me." The roegadyn sniffed, and shifted upright in the bed. For a tantalising moment, it looked as though she wouldn't bother to keep the fabric pressed against her chest. "Asked you a question, darling," she reminded her with an outrageous wink. "Sorry to have distracted you." "Uh," said Cwenthryth again. Without twenty-six years of emotional suppression under her belt, she'd have turned red as falling Dalamud. "Take everything. He deserves it." She started to move back towards the door, but couldn't tear her eyes away from the escort. Because she was just... watching her back, for the only potential threat in the room. Yeah. "Ah, you are a treasure," said the roegadyn. "I'm sure we'll see each other around!"

"You should smile more." Cwenthryth's smile died on her lips. "Huh?" "You were smiling," said Thelred. "It's nice. I don't see it enough." "Thanks." Cwenthryth filed it away. She'd learned a lot about what girlfriends should do lately. It meant an end to going missing on rooftops. Odd phrasing, she'd thought. She knew where she was. Now her only time away was out working - and he disapproved of her work - or at home - and he was dropping hints even Cwenthryth could pick up on that they should soon share a home as well. "I was thinking about this woman I saw yesterday. She was..." She had been a lot of things. Cwenthryth settled on, "beautiful." "Oh? More beautiful than I am handsome?" "Yes." After a half-second's pause, Thelred laughed. "Oh, thank Rhalgr I've you to keep me humble." "Ha," Cwenthryth managed. They walked for a while down through the market stalls. Cwenthryth felt Thelred's fingers wrap around her hand, and decided to force a smile. "There's my girl," he said, and she tried to stifle her bile reaction. "You'll need to practice that smile, you know. When I get my shop, I'll need your help." She looked across, with rare surprise. "You're going to be a money-lender?" Thelred's burst of laughter quickly faded away. "No, no, I... Oh, you aren't joking." "I'm not good at jokes," she said earnestly. "Well, Fafarino's not getting any younger, and he's been... dropping hints, perhaps that he might leave me the place, when I'm ready. And I think that'll be soon. Then we're set, right? And you can finally quit your... uh, work, and settle down..." Some tiny warning bell rang in the deep recesses of Cwenthryth's brain. "Wouldn't that be nice?" he prompted, as they reached the front door of his house. "Yes. You'd like that," she said dutifully, accepted a kiss on the cheek, and weaved away through the streets.

That night, she found herself on the rooftops again, hugging herself in the cold. All her life, Cwenthryth had felt, or sometimes just been told, she didn't... fit right, in the world. That there was some agreed-upon ruleset she just didn't play well with. But she had to be doing something right, didn't she? She had a partner, and they had a plan together. Right? And he loved... her, maybe, or at least, loved who he thought she was, or perhaps who he thought she would become. She wasn't... unhappy. And it was a way out of the cycle of violence. It wasn't that she liked hurting people, she had to keep telling herself that, to keep her apart from the sadists and the madmen, she just happened to be good at holding her nose and getting the job done. She could make herself happy. And learn to smile and be happy behind a counter, and say the right things at the right times, and then at last she'd be the upstanding Ul'dahn woman her mother had wanted her to become, the life she'd been told her father - the fighter, the revolutionary, the martyr - would have wanted for her. But when she coiled up in her bed that night and closed her eyes, she dreamed of winking roegadyn.

[elysicndrcvm]

━♡ guess the 23 YEAR OLD FEBRUARY baby just arrived to dallyeog! it makes sense, because CHU EUNHA is just as BEDAZZLING as the month of FEBRUARY. wait, why do they remind me of JACOB BAE? beyond that, they seemed JOYOUS and SAVVY upon first glance. i heard someone say they’re sort of DELICATE and QUIXOTIC though. i hope they get acquainted here in COMPLEX 1 / APARTMENT 0215 / FLOOR 3 ; HE seem(s) to have a lot going on with HIS job as a PATISSERIE OWNER/NUTRITIONAL SCIENCE STUDENT. ( ez, 21, she/they, gmt. )

     well hey there !! im ez but you fellow dallyeogers can call me ezzy, i have been in dallyeog before so some may remember me as having someone v different to my new bb i bring u now, i joined before with miss tam carmen !! anygays i return with this lil angel who i am all ‘ i say that’s my baby and i’m proud ’ over already even tho i literally came up with him like two days ago. you can find his pinboard here ( which btw i fuckeN love like he’s so aesthetic to me u go king ) and i made him a lil playlist which u can vibe to here. you can learn more about him under the cut but he’s a super soft-hearted gentle dove of a muse and quite...simple for me ?? sdhdh that’s not the right wording but U GET IT djjflg he isn’t super full of angst or trauma he’s just kinda viBIN livin his best life so that’s fun !! but ye without further ado: 

so as u kno from his app he owns a patisserie, it’s his lil babey and he is very dedicated to his craft and makin sure all his ideas for the place and the baked goods he sells are like rlly quirky and avant-garde. like he is so passionate about it u dont even KNOW, he tries to make sure most of the stuff on his menu is something like fun and new u wouldn’t get at just any old patisserie or cafe and that it’s super varied and also kinda aesthetic af? the place is very like trendy. it’s called patisserie d’elysian cause ya know he’s an extra biTCHH and proud.

he has three pupperino’s. all as adorable as each other, snickerdoodle is his golden lab and often ppl shorten it down to snickers, butterscotch is his dapple daschund pup, shortens the name to scotchie often. toulouse is his fancy toy poodle boi, shortens the name down as toto. if u are on the shortened name basis with his pups then u can consider urself one of his close pals. 

he’s actually adopted by his aunt but she raised him like she was his mother so that is what he considers her, she’s on his mother’s side but they are half-siblings. in terms of first name reasoning as well she just liked eunha as a name and didn’t even think about how it is traditionally for a female, she liked that it meant gift from heaven so it stuck. his father is still around, he’s just quite elderly so it felt like a better living situation for him to be raised primarily by his auntie. unfortunately his mother has passed on but no tragic story, she just went peacefully in old age. 

he dyes his hair quite often, it’s currently like a really pastel blue with black streaks consistently throughout like lil ones so it looks super cool. but he’s also had it be a more electric blue, lilac, and a duck egg kinda faded silvery blue. it’s naturally dark brunette. has brown eyes kind of a hazel hue. 

his style is kinda androgynous ig?? he just lives for soft retro fashion, lots of color in his wardrobe but also lots of tapered short and t-shirt fits frequented, sweater vests, rolled up jeans, high skater boi socks, soft jumpers with shirts, shirts in bright colours or satiny texture worn over plain white t-shirts, cardigans, pastel denim jackets, jeans with printed patterns on like clouds, flowers etc, favors yellow and blues. sometimes does eye makeup, occasionally wears heels bc he’s a baddie or super heeled boots/chunky shoes. 

obsessed with music, can play violin and guitar. he’s a big mitski and rina sawayama fanatic, likes anything that sounds peaceful or calming or has like a good fun vibe to it. also likes the trademark gay icons like carly rae jepsen, lorde, etc. he’s not ashamed. obsessed with mamma mia movies. but also likes rap which is rlly funny cause its like the bad bitch female rappers only and like he’ll listen to it while arranging his sock drawer or making his bed or something ajdjdj it’s like hype anthems for being a baddie and a hoe and he’s just doing his night sleepy routine adkfkf. 

showers, blankets, music, baked goods especially bagels are his happy places. 

very much a sensitive lil romanticist, falls in ‘love’ like five times a day, he just likes to giggle and smile around pretty people and admire the artwork hnghdh, he’s like yeARNS though ya know?? like he’s all i will flirt by making prolonged eye contact, i made you a playlist, this song makes me think of you etc. it’s either memes as flirting with him or elaborate love letters u never know what ur gonna get akdkd. 

awful sense of humour, loves his friends more than anything on earth except his pups, would fully live in a huge house of just like his pups and all his closest buds for all eternity. likes fruits way too much, enjoys puns about fruits way too much. milkshakes, sushi, orange hues and bus rides are some of his absolute favorite simple pleasures of life. clouds, flowers, salt lamps, the sunrise over the sea, skateboarding, fresh soda, teddy bears, busy street markets, parasols, fish tanks with exotic fish, sorbet, bike riding, polaroids, record players, rain at night against floor to ceiling windows with a fresh steaming pot of tea on the desk beside it and warm fresh sheets from the laundry on his bed, ponds, skateboarding. all little joys in life that give him like the biggest pleasure dopamine hit in the world. 

his cousin actually owns a florists so he has flowers just littering his apartment like a lot and it just looks like he has ten million suitors from the late eighteenth century attempting to court him but no all these flowers are from him to him or worse from his aunt djfjg she sends him some for valentines every valentines, pls help him, pls send him flowers. 

studies nutritional science and he fucken hates it. do not ask him shit cause he doesn’t KNOW OKAY? he doesn’t understand it either. he took it because he needed something to go alongside the passion for baking that was a real ‘qualification’/job so that is the only reason he’s doing it. no point doing a baking degree after all when he’s already a baker with a business, he’s super young still he gotta keep his prospects open. so YAH. he’d rather be doing culinary arts but eh. nutritional science sounded better and more logic based. the real miracle is he still gets top grades all the time even tho he spends his life like wtf am i even doing is this even legit akdkdk. school is the worst thing in the world for him watch his mood instantly deflate the second its brought up. 

despite being a quixotic, he’s a lil afraid of intimacy. like oh god does he love it, those small touches and acts of affection u kno? the subtle things that normally go unnoticed, eye contact, brushing of hands, linking of little fingers, rubbing a thumb, kissing eyelids or foreheads or palms or shoulders in little gentle pecks, back massages and rubs or finger tracing patterns absent-minded, shoulder massages, laying your head on someone’s shoulder or on their lap, knocking knees together, exchanging a small glance only the two of you get before bursting into laughter, smiling into kisses, napping together, having blankets placed over you warm and fresh, or towels put ready like it, someone making you something they know you like a lot. that’s his sHIT. but like he’s terrified still, someone skimming their fingers on his skin makes his breath hitch like he’s a scandalized and alarmingly aroused victorian woman sjdjd. he’s literally still a virgin, he hasn’t even had his first kiss okay my baby is delicate be gentle with him akdkd but he still LIKES PASSION AIGHT kfkf. 

real soft spoken, honey tinted voice like i shit u not this boy talks like he’s an angel sent from heavens above to guide you to the paradisaical garden of eden or some shit akdkd. ur gonna fall in love with eunha’s voice before u even fall in love with any other part of him like his adorable beaming smile or stunning eyes akdkf. 

has dance parties around his room when getting ready in the morning, listens to bella’s lullaby unironically yes from twilight yes u heard right, bit of a himbo streak sometimes in his obliviousness djfjf. quite silently subtly funny actually much like jacob himself. 

he is gay, afraid of driving, cannot do math, blanks out often and he is valid for all of those things. has a collection of cartoon and disney animal movie dvds. has a dream notebook. always has blue painted nails in some kinda shade. 

does not enjoy turning in assignments bc he is scared he’ll fail, avoids looking at his grades for weeks after they’re released and hates knowing that they’re out. 

cannot dance, dances often. collects vintage stuff esp clothes and mostly sweaters. likes midnight trips to corner stores and fields where he can just lay and look at the stars. makes friends rlly easily but has super bad performance anxiety. cannot ever have a messy room like even the tiniest bit messy. even like clothes being stacked on a chair instead of away. 

bakes peanut butter, banana and choc chip muffins (they r called monkey bites normally) whenever he’s super stressed. if u want to cheer him up when he’s anxious or stressed then u should give him french lavender honey, chia seeds and caramelized pear on toast/bagel. it is his comfort food. he fancii when he needs a pick me up. treat urself and all that. 

[elianamarie-blog]

Hey bestie! could i get a ship for that 70s show?

i’m a 5’6 nonbinary (she/they) with short hair and curtain bangs my hair colour is done to look like narcissa malfoys (dark brown with platinum blonde on the underside). I have blue/grey eyes.

i’m an INFP, Ravenclaw, and a Taurus. My hobbies are making music, and playing pranks on my sister lol. I love marvel, harry potter, and criminal minds.

ive been told i’m very cocky and my ego is through the roof. I’d consider myself a very kind person who’s easy to talk to. i like to joke around a lot with my friends and sarcasm is my first language,

My aesthetic conveniently is very 70s/vintage, and my music taste is also a lot of throwbacks.

what i want to do when i’m older is forensic psychology!

hope you get to mine but if not that’s fine! Love your writing!

-M

Thank you bestie! You sound like an amazing, interesting person! (And gorgeous too) I got you! And thank you SO much for reading my content. You, are amazing <3 

Who’s Up For A Challenge?

Michael Kelso x reader

-Y/n L/n was new in town and found enjoyment in messing with the players of the town.

-She was known as “that chick”

-She was incredibly witty, sarcastic, cocky, but so kind and beautiful.

-She may have accidentally had a couple of good guys fall in love with her.

-She had to gently turn them down and that actually broke her heart.

-She loved a good challenge though.

-She was sitting in the Hub with her college lab partner, Donna, when the none other than himself, Michael Kelso, walked in.

-Y/n had heard about him.

-The infamous Michael Kelso. Playboy of Point Place.

-Donna called him over and as he sat down, he noticed her.

-Of course, he had to hit on her.

-When he asked her out, she, of course said yes.

- “Alright, I’ll be here to pick you up tonight.”

-Y/n smiled as he walked away.

-As Donna leaned in and started to warn Y/n about him, Y/n cut her off.

- “I know.”

- “You know?”

- “Yes. I’ve heard of this dillhole and I’ve got a plan.”

-Donna was intrigued as Y/n started unraveling her plan. 

- “I’m going to make him fall in love with me. Then I’m going to break his heart and make him feel what he makes every girl here feel.”

-Donna wasn’t so into it, but knew she couldn’t stop her.

-So, Y/n went through with the plan and met up with Kelso that night.

-He got her a burger from Fatso Burger and took her to Mt. Hump.

-He started kissing her neck and making out with her.

-She knew she was good at sex and everything else.

-But she refused to give it to him on the first date.

-She was a classy person after all.

-Kelso had set up a challenge to get in the sack.

-She already knew that though, because well duh.

-She ended up befriending Donna and Jackie over it.

-Jackie was thrilled and squealing.

- “Finally, he’s going to feel the hell that he put me through,” Jackie said.

- “You scare me,” Donna said. “Besides, you’re with Hyde now. It shouldn’t matter.”

- “Oh, whatever. Revenge is dish best served cold.”

- Y/n laughed and threw an arm over Jackie’s shoulders. “Don’t worry, girl. I got you. I’m going to drag him through the mud and then hang him out to dry.”

- “Oh, I love you!” Jackie squeaked and hugged Y/n tightly.

- “Okay, now you both scare me,” Donna said.

-Donna tried to warn Kelso, but of course he didn’t listen to her.

-He just took it as her being jealous that he wasn’t going to nail her.

-Even though she was back with Eric.

-Kelso this time took Y/n to a drive in and bought her the classic: popcorn and a coke.

-Y/n was down to date 2 out of 10.

-He started kissing her again, softer, gentler, but started getting handsy again.

-Y/n smacked his hand away multiple times before he finally up.

- “Well, damn, Y/n!” he cried out, shaking his hand. 

- “Keep your hands to yourself, lover boy,” she threatened.

- “Yeah, or what?” he challenged.

- “Trust me, you don’t want to challenge me.”

- “Maybe I do.”

- “Trust me, sweetie, you don’t. I can snap you in half.”

-His eyes lit up. “You must be hot in the sack!”

-Y/n couldn’t help but laugh. “Take me home, you jerk.”

- He chuckled. “Yes, dear.”

-When he dropped her off, she turned to him. “Pick me up Friday for dinner at 8pm.”

- Kelso nodded and smiled at her.

-Eric, Hyde, and Fez caught onto the challenge and decided to make it a bet.

-Hyde said Kelso would make a fool out of himself and end up being dumped.

-Eric said Kelso would actually score.

-Fez said he just wanted to be part of the action and said Y/n would win.

-Doesn’t mean Hyde didn’t try to sabotage the bet by giving Kelso wrong information.

-For example, he told him to pick up Y/n late instead of on time because it shows that he’s desperate and clingy.

-Which is what the idiot did.

-Y/n was NOT pleased.

-She made him buy her lobster and flowers.

-At the end of the night she ended up giving him a hot make out sesh, but left him to take care of himself.

-Date 3 out of 10 down.

-Now, Eric was trying to sabotage the bet by giving Kelso tips how to get laid.

-Which Kelso laughed at until Donna spoke up.

- “You got to invoke her mind, man,” Eric said. “People like her like to be intellectually challenged.”

- “Yeah right,” Michael scoffed.

- “No, Eric is actually right for once,” Donna said, bored. “Y/n isn’t like the other girls in this town. She actually has a brain.”

- “And some nice jugs,” Fez said earning a glare from the group.

- “Try talking to her about literature and psychology and music. She likes that kind of stuff. And leave out any kinds of ‘doing it.’ Intelligent people like her don’t like that.”

- “But I wanna do it.”

- “I know, but you got to make her think you want her mind, not her body.”

- “Yeah, that’s a good idea!” Kelso said and ran out the door to spontaneously surprised Y/n at her house with flowers and a...book.

- “Donna, what the hell are you doing?” Hyde asked.

- “I know, I’m such a bad friend to her,” Donna said. “I’m going to hell.”

- “No, not that. I’m trying to get her to dump him for being stupid. Don’t give the guy pointers!”

-Kelso showed up at Y/n’s door with a picnic basket, a blanket, flowers, and a gift.

-She was definitely surprised.

-He found the perfect spot under the tree and laid out the blanket. 

- “I got you something” he said and gave her a gift sloppily wrapped in paper. 

-She opened it up and it was a vintage psychology book from the late 1800′s.

-She was genuinely impressed. “Where did you find this?”

-Well, I heard you talking about your love of psychology and vintage things and found this at an antique store. Thought you’d might like it.”

-Her eyes actually filled with tears.

-Even thought it was their fourth date, she felt touched by the gift and allowed 2nd base.

-The next few dates ended going the same flow. 

-He’d take her out, hoping for sex, she would tease him and then leave him to take care of himself.

-By their 7th date, he was beginning to grow frustrated.

-So, far Fez was winning the bet.

-On the eighth date, Y/n introduced Michael to her parents.

-They were spectacle, but polite to him nonetheless.

-Eighth date consisted of the carnival.

-As the lights shown down on y/n’s beautiful face, he realized he might actually feelings for her.

-Y/n knew she started developing feelings for him after the fourth date, but she refused to say anything. It was just a reaction to the sweet gift.

-Even though she knew he had a kid with another woman, it didn’t stop her from feeling the way she did.

-He won her a stuffed elephant, a goldfish, and bought her a hotdog.

-Back in the car, they were making out again. “I think I really like you.”

-She smiled into the kiss. “I like you too, but you’re still not getting any.”

- “That’s okay,” he whispered, shocking both of them.

-He ended up panicking to the guys later on that night.

- “So? Just go bang the next chick you see. You did that to Jackie a lot when she didn’t want to sleep with you,” Hyde said.

- “That’s the problem. I can’t,” Kelso said and ran a hand through his hair. “I tried but every time I went to, I just couldn’t find myself to do it. They’re not her, man.”

-The guys gave him crap and started taunting him.

- “You love her!” Fez said and tried to make kissy faces with Eric.

- “Yeah, we don’t do that,” Eric said, pushing Fez’s face away from his.

- “What’re you going to do?” Hyde asked seriously.

- “Just...try to make her mine at this point.”

-On the ninth date, Y/n was freaking out.

-How could she have fallen for him?

-She’s never felt this way after messing with a guy like this.

-Why?

-Why?

-WHY?!

-Stupid, stupid, stupid--

-The doorbell rang.

-He stood there with a dozen red roses.

- “I got something special,” he said.

-He ended up taking her to the lake with a complete romantic dinner.

-Candles, wine, chocolates, and pasta that he had help from mom make.

-Y/n’s eyes pricked with tears.

-No one has ever done this for her before.

-Throughout the evening, he had actually engaged in intelligent conversation and opened up to her.

-He talked about his hopes and dreams, his fears, and his loves.

- “People don’t give you enough credit,” she said. “You have a lot going for you. You just don’t show this side to people. Why?”

- He shrugged. “It’s funnier this way. I don’t want them knowing this side of me, Then they’ll start...expecting stuff from me and I don’t want that pressure.”

- “Well, you’re secret is safe with me,” she said, taking a sip of wine.

- “Well, come on, you have a lot more going for you. You want to be a forensic psychologist. That’s awesome, whatever that is.”

-Y/n chuckled and explained it to him while he actually listened to her!

-She actually changed the playboy of the town!

-Y/n wasn’t sure if it was the wine, but she couldn’t take it anymore and brought him for a hasty kiss. “I want to go all the way with you tonight.”

-At this point, she didn’t care if he broke her heart, she just needed him before he could.

-The moment was actually beautiful.

-He was so gentle and and sweet, making sure she was actually okay with it.

-And it was the best sex either one of them ever had.

-As they laid down in the back of the car, they confessed they ended up confessing their feelings towards each other, including the plans they each had for each other.

- “I’ve never felt this way towards anyone before,” y/n said. “This really bit me in the ass this time.”

- “I’ve never felt this way before period,” he chuckled. “I guess it bit me in the ass too.”

- “Are we dumb for doing this?” she whispered.

- “Totally.”

-They laughed together and ended up doing it again the second time that night.

-On their tenth date, he took her to the carnival again, but he had something more special planned.

-He took her to the top of the Ferris wheel and when it got to the top, he grabbed her hand and nervously asked her if she’d officially be his.

-She grinned at him brightly and nodded yes.

- “Great, now I can give you this,” he said and took off his hoodie that he was wearing. “You’re my girl now and I want you to have it. It’s my favorite hoodie.”

-She kissed him deeply and put it on.

-She wore it everyday from then on.

-One day she was over at the Forman’s and while they were waiting for everyone to join them, they started making out on the couch.

-The door opened, revealing Hyde, Eric, and Fez.

- “DAMMIT!” Hyde shouted.

- Fez laughed. “Pay up!”

- “Wait,” Eric asked. “Did you guys do it yet?”

- Kelso smiled. “Totally.”

-Eric turned to Hyde with his palm turned upwards. “Pay up, bitch.”

- “What’s that not fair!” he bitched.

- “Oh, it totally is,” Fez laughed.

- “No, I’ll tell you what’s not fair. Michael didn’t get hurt like he was supposed to!” Jackie said.

- “No, he got something better,” Donna said. “True love! And someone to kick his ass into shape.”

- “A matchmade in Heaven,” Fez joked while Hyde handed him his cash. “Thank you Hyde.”

- “Yeah, shut up.”

[the-fiction-witch]

Black and white

REAL LIFE

COUPLE TBS X READER

RATING ADORABLE

I sat in bed, my back against the headboard, the lamp on the bedside table illuminating the room as I sat on my phone scrolling through looking at pictures. Thomas sat beside me deep in his laptop barely looking up except to sip his cup of tea as our little kitten Sally Ann got cosy cuddled up on top of the covers between the cover bulges of my leg and the one of Thomas'. 

I glanced at him smiling widely seeing him sat there his blonde and brown hair fluffy and fuzzy where he had a bath the slight pink grapefruit smell emanating from his head where he stole my shampoo, his skin glowing in the lamplight his chocolate eyes reflecting his computer screen slightly, his fingers pressed to his lips slightly biting on his nail I wanted to stop him but he wasn't like chewing on it or anything just holding it in his teeth as he was thinking, the tiny sharp spikes of stubble jetting out from his chin and the corners of his upper mouth where he hasn't shaved all week due to us forgetting razors when we went shopping. His blue faded motorbike shirt hanging off his skinny body but hugging his upper arms where the has been lifting lately to try and in his own words 'look less like a victorian present boy' I was surprised in all honesty to see him still in a shirt but it was rather chilly of an evening now, his stretchy grey boxer shorts clinging to him only making a slight appearance above the covers his laptop sat in his lap with the covers between him and the laptop. I smiled moving my head into his shoulder even if his bones slightly poked me 

"Hi" I smiled looking up at him seeing a smile creep onto his lips 

"Hi" he smiled back kissing my head "I have a question actually for you"

"Ohh?"

"Do we need… a kitchen box that says cheese?" He asks showing the tab with said item

"No.."

"It has a mouse on it"

"Do you think we need one Thomas?"

"I don't know that's why I asked"

"What are you even doing?"

"Looking at the registry site. I'm like twenty pages deep some of this stuff is weird" he explained

"Ooohh… I like the vintage style standing mixer" I pointed out

"It's like four hundred pounds"

"So? It's our wedding registry, for gifts. Other people will buy us this stuff" I explain

"Why can't I just use Amazon?"

"Because then it will be all motorbike parts and industrial candy. I know you" I laughed giving his cheek a kiss and going back to my own phone 

"Most of it is like...home goods. Which we do not need"

"We don't, that's the thing because wedding gifts are traditionally like things for the home to build a life. The issue is we already live together, and have done for many years. Any homegoods we needed we bought"

"Exactly, however I did find plates with bunnies on"

"Are they on the list?"

"Are they on the list?" He laughs "my beautiful little flower, I saw a set of plates with bunny rabbits on. Of course they are in our wedding registry. Do you think I'm an idiot?" 

"How did you know I'd want bunny plates?'

"I love you enough to marry you y/n. I know you well enough to know you will want plates with bunnies on" he laughs "that and some of ours are looking kinda…"

"Shitty"

"Yeah a little bit"

"One of them is your fault."

"Is it?"

"I made you a sandwich on it while you were working on your bike, you spilt something on it when the plate was empty and now it won't come off. I have tried everything I even pressure washed that plate it doesn't come off"

"Oohh… that may have been chemical metal"

"See this is why we don't have fancy stuff in our house"

"True"

"We should put like pans and cookware in it ours is falling apart, and if people buy us fancy ones then we won't have to replace them forever"

"Ahh yep, good call" he says "shit!"

"What?"

"They make like a lock for your motorbike that goes over the brake and accelerator so it can't get nicked!"

"Ooohhh"

"May I add that to the list my flower?"

"Yes" I giggled

"Yes! Ummm I love you" he smiled hugging me closely 

"Awww I love you too babe" I laughed giving him a kiss 

"What are you up to anyway?" He asks trying to see my phone

"None of your business" 

"Hey come on let me see"

"Nope! Bad luck"

He sighed and stole my phone 

"Ooohh" he says as he looked "awww somebodies looking forward to her first fitting"

"I'm curious" I said taking my phone back

"Any ideas?"

"Yes but you don't get to know"

"I'm not trying to find out what the dress looks like. I just am curious what you're considering, because you know your dress decision affects… most of our wedding planning"

"No it doesn't"

"If you suddenly Change your mind on the theme because of your dress it's going to affect things" he says "also the style will affect whatever you make the girls wear, and what I have to make the boys wear, also what I have to make my mum wear. And Flowers"

"I'm thinking" I answered

"Nothing you wanna ask? Before tomorrow?'

"Will you cry?'

"I imagine I will"

"Even if I look bad?" I asked leaning in him again

"You won't look bad"

"What if I just turn up in your sweatpants and a white shirt?' 

"I'll still cry, no matter what you wear my flower" he says kissing my head "am I allowed to cry or will you punch me if I start crying at our wedding?'

"I may punch you"

"Noted"

".... Thomas?"

"Ummmm?"

"How would you feel about me in… a black wedding dress?" I asked 

There was silence "w-what?'

"A black wedding dress"

"Uuuuuhhh… how black?'

"Like black, black"

"Like ashy, grey tones?"

"Like morticia addams"

"Ooh. Uuuhh. I don't know, never really thought about it I guess."

"Well think about it"

"Never imagined you in a black dress"

"Why not?"

"Because wedding dresses tend to be… white"

"I'm not a Virgin. We all know this." 

"Is that the reason you don't want a white dress?"

"No, I just...I don't know feel like that could be cool for me" 

"Your mother is never going to let you have a black wedding dress"

"It ain't her wedding"

"Okay. Y/n, I love you. you can wear whatever you want to our wedding whatever you walk down the aisle in will make me cry, you can be a little Gothic black flower at our wedding if you want" he says giving my lips a kiss holding my hand slightly fiddling with my engagement ring and giving my hand a kiss 

"I'm thinking about just have a huge black wedding dress, and black heels," I smiled 

"Ooohh… that could be cool. Like a massive ball gown?" 

"Yeah, maybe. But you'll not know until our wedding. Bad luck"

"You and your Goddamn superstition"

"You're marrying me you know this" I laughed 'maybe if I have a black wedding dress maybe as like a fun idea you could have a white suit?"

"I do like hot in a white suit" he says "in fact I do have a white suit already… so. Saving money?"

"And you could wear a black shirt instead of a white one?"

"I'm mad because I like that"

"It would be a cool thing wouldn't it? For wedding pictures? Me in black you in white"

".... I am open to this idea. Do whatever you want with your dress but I need to think now"

"Why?"

"I kinda just assumed I had no choice in my suit. And now I do… I need to think"

"You can wear whatever you want Thomas I'll still be happy" I smiled.

[georgemackayhey]

Worth Fighting For (Part: Two)

summary: You’re entirely certain George is the one. So he hasn’t got to put up much of a fight… but in a way, that’s all he knows to do.

a/n: Now is a good time to mention that I know nothing about boxing. My only refreance is a movie about mma and one nights worth of basic research. But all that matters is I'm having buckets of fun writing this! The angst starts to creep in this chapter. Let me know what yall think!

w/c: 4k

Part 1

───※ ·❆· ※───

It was the end of an exceptionally long weekend. You'd managed to throw together last minute choreography for the kids school play, taught a wedding party how to waltz, and helped a friend nail her audition for a foreign dance company.

It was easy as ever, with a broken hand. But everything else was increasingly difficult. You were still getting used to using your one, lame hand to do laundry and cook dinner. But at least you could still dance.

There was nothing better than pumping the  music and moving until it ached. Until all you had to worry about was locking up and racing home to shower, and all the things you'd been anxious about all week had long fled to the very back of your mind.

But the weekend was over, and you didn't have an excuse to stay in the studio now that all the kids who came to learn were long gone. But you had a perfectly sound reason for taking longer to do you post class stretches. As you took your sweet time sliding into your jacket and switching out the lights, you kept your eye on the window to the hallway. You tried not to look too obvious, but there was a silly, desperate hope inside of you; to see George.

The gym door remained shut, raucous music thumbing from somewhere deep inside, as you dragged your feet out in the hall. You tried not to look like you were casting glances over your shoulder, or seem too disappointed when you found no one there. When the door to your studio was locked and your adrenalin from class dwindled away, you went on your way.

And while you tried not to think about the funny feeling you got in your chest at the thought of George, you shoved open the door to the parking lot. The sky was a bleak grey and a chill crept past your layers of brightly colored clothes.

"Took you long enough." A voice crept close over your shoulder, causing you to spin around with a gasp.

George was leaning against the stone of the building, the hood of his pale jacket up over his head, strong arms crossed over his broad chest.

"How's your hand?" He asked, like he really cared to know.

"Oh, I'm managing." You decided with a smile, happening to glance at George's. "How's yours?" You asked, noticing bruises on his knuckles that weren't there the weekend before.

George seemed confused, for a beat, before glimpsing down at his fingers.

"Oh, this is nothing." He said. And before you could choose one the dozens of questions you had, you decidedly moved on.

"What are you waiting on?" You asked in a nervous giggle, glancing to his car a few parking spaces away.

"You, obviously." George rose a brow and reached for his bulky canvas bag that rested near his feet. You watched his lean figure shift as he carried the weight over one shoulder and stepped closer.

"Come on, It's my turn to treat you to DeAngelo's." He explained, walking past you to his sleek vintage car. The familiar screech of the city bus caught your ear, and you looked over to notice it stall to a stop, before you followed George's lead.

The ride was quiet. You spent most of the time pretending to be distracted by your chipping nail polish. Even in his silence George was captivating. You couldn't be sure if he'd noticed you stealing glances at him as he drove; but every time you did, you wouldn't let yourself look long.

You couldn't be sure why stepping foot into the diner to get felt different. Maybe it was because you weren't alone. You were mixed among dozens of other dinner parties and the combined white noise of everyone's collective chatter set you at ease. You weren't as shy to let your gaze linger on George as he studied you across the same booth as before.

And much like then, your conversations started mildly. He asked what you were going to order, and you tried not to feel too embarrassed for listing off the same meal. But he grinned and said he was going to do the same. And right as your conversation opened up to grow ever deeper, you were interrupted.

"Miss y/n!" An excited, drawn out greeting rang from a small boy who was busy bouncing your way. You didn't need to turn to know it was little Louis. He was one of your most loyal students. And though you'd never say it to anyone, the small kid was your favorite budding ballerina. Perhaps because he cared so unabashedly for you, too.

All four feet and fifty pounds of the curly headed boy crashed into your side of the booth, his little arms reaching to wrap you in a hug. You let out a surprised gasp and turned to try and greet the boy as soon as you realized he'd appeared.

"Today was lot's of fun. Can we do more big jumps next week?" The boy broke away from you to peer up, big brown eyes full of hope. You chuckled a little and assured the boy you'd planned on it. That's about the time his mother shuffled over, apologizing for her eight years old interrupting your dinner.

"It's alright." You assured, sheepishly glancing over to George who was sat back watching on with a coy grin. The kind of smile that- if you were younger and less confident, might have made you insecure. But knowing the little you did about George, you read no mocking in his expression. Only something more vulnerable you couldn't quite make out yet. You wondered all of a sudden just how exactly to get him to open up, and wondered hopelessly if you'd ever get the chance.

"I'm always glad to see you, Louis." You grinned at the boy, still glancing up to you in the sweetest way. "He's never missed a class in two years." You bragged to George now, who let his grin stretch a little wider.

Then you got the good sense to introduce the guy across from you. You gave his name away, and mentioned that he taught at the gym at Fit For All. Louis mother seemed to light up at the mention.

"Oh, you're Geogre? You know my oldest son, Danny. He talks about you all the time." The woman whose dark roots were nearly longer than the dyed blonde bits of her hair gleamed, and Geogre seemed to glow, too.

"Oh, yes. He's always at the gym, it seems." George sat up a little, peering to the woman Louis belonged to. The mother explained that her eldest wanted nothing more than to grow up to become a boxer. But a shoulder injury at the tail end of highschool ruined his chances. So Danny traded boxing for running, and had completed several marathons since.

George said the guy was great at encouraging the kids who frequented Fit For All, no matter which lesson they showed up for. It was your turn to smile and watch as George and his friends mother gushed over the guy who wasn't even around.

When Louis was coaxed from your side back to his mothers he gave you one final hug and raced her to a table across the room. A silence fell between you and George once more, but it was more familiar than ever. George was the first to break it.

"He was sweet." George smiled, reaching for his drink.

"Must run in the family." You pointed out. "I didn't realize Louis even had a brother."

"Danny is a good guy. He always knows just what to say. Not only to the kids, but to me too, some days." George let out a little laugh. A nervous, slightly bittered chuckle. And while it made you realize a little something more about him, it added to the complexity of George all the while. This guy was going to drive you nuts in no time. You'd let him.

///

And that's how it started. Every Friday, around the same time, you'd pile into George's ride and one of you would cover the bill for DeAngelo's.

Sometimes you got held up, trying to help a girl learn her steps for the schools annual talent show. You'd find Geogre had lingered in and made himself at home on the folded up mats near the door. You caught his gaze in the wall length mirror and tried to hide your blush while you danced on.

Other times, he'd be running behind. You shuffled outside to find George in the middle of what seemed to be a serious conversation with a familiar guy around your age. It was Danny, and you were introduced for the first time like you'd been friends forever. You found the rumors about the guy were true, even in the first few minutes of meeting. Danny mentioned his little brother mentioning you nonstop, and said how he'd been waiting to put your face to your name. George ended the small talk by reaching over and nudging you toward his car.

The slight touch of his arm against yours made you feel different than the only other time he'd touched you before. The last was when he'd rushed in to monitor your injured hand. And you couldn't feel much of anything. But now, when George leaned into you, pushing you away all the while, your nerves seemed to dance on end. But Danny's pleasant goodbye tore your thoughts away, and you waved your working hand to the guy and hoped out loud to see more of him.

Then George drove you to DeAngelos for another week in a row.

///

You hadn't really realized how much time had passed until snow started to fall. Granted the weather seemed to change much earlier than it ever had years prior. But it changed all the same, and it seemed to draw attention to the tradition you'd made of going to dinner with George.

You sat in the same spot almost everytime. And you talked about the same sorts of things. There were always complaints shared, about the growing cold, and the things that held up your week. There was always some kind of exciting news to share, about a new movie coming to town, or the things you'd accomplished during work. You even spoke about things you hadn't been keen on discussing with most other people. Like your relationship with your family and the scariest parts of highschool. Because George asked. He asked you more about yourself than he ever dared to mention his own stories.

"When are you gonna let me come watch you teach kids how to throw a punch, huh?" You teased. George had lingered in the doorway to catch the tail end of a handful of your lessons, by now. And he was always done for the night, when yours ended early.

As you ate your usual dinner, he kept his demure smile and rolled his dazzling blue eyes your way, before changing the subject. And you wanted nothing more than to listen to him talk, so you let your question go unanswered.

"We've been coming here a lot." He pointed out, plain and simply. But the comment made your heart feel like it had grown a layer of steel , sinking ever so slightly.

"Would you rather us go someplace else?" You wondered in a light manner, trying not to seem let down at the possibility of ending your tradition.

"Course not. I'm saying I like coming here." George smiled, then added, "With you."

You bit back your grin from spreading too widely and let the familiar bout of quiet follow.

///

But the next weekend was different and it was all your fault. Your water heater broke on Tuesday. And your landlord called back Wednesday night to say he couldn't help you fix it till he came back to town next week. You had to postpone Friday's class when you realized you were in too deep trying to fix the issue yourself. And while you fiddled with the matter with your non broken hand, a deep regret flooded your system when you realized George would miss you and you had no way of letting him know.

You worried all evening at the thought of standing him up. You crossed your working fingers that he'd still be keen to see you the next weekend; and tried to accept the fact that since your tradition had been broken, the thin connection you shared with George might now forever be lost, too.

By the end of your next week, your landlord was still off on holiday, and had taken to ignoring your texts asking for help. How hard was it for him to call a local mechanic to send your way before he left to go tanning for the day, or whatever?

And as you bared another cold shower and grumpily hurried to head to the studio, your power went out.

"No, no no!" You whined, flipping a light switch a dozen times in a row and wishing and hoping and praying everything would come back to life. You took a deep breath, rushed to the closet where the panel that held your home's power was, and were disappointed to find flipping a few switches there did absolutely nothing. You didn't have time to worry. You couldn't let your kids down again.

Some of them were already lingering outside of the studio when you rushed in, stomping away snow. Little Louis actually cheered and dashed your way for a hug, like he did. You smiled, set at ease by the child's sweet nature.

Then you taught him and a dozen others to dance, and let your worries fade away for an hour and a half. George hadn't slipped into the studio when the clock ticked past your usual meeting time. You tried not to let yourself feel disappointed when your kids shuffled home. You only wrapped up for the day and started to worry over your situation all over again.

But as you locked the doors to the studio, Danny was making his way out into the hall, and George was trailing close behind.

"Hey kid!" Danny glowed, turning to greet you in the dim hall. You shot him a pleasant smile, despite everything, trying not to catch George's gaze. Because his expression was so familiar, now. And he was looking right at you in a way you realized he so often did. And you'd let him down last week, and you had to do it again, now.

He shouldered past Danny as the bulky fellow seemed to decide to go home. He gave you both a quick goodnight before making his way toward the heavy doors. Then you were left alone with the guy you hadn't stopped thinking of since the time he held an ice pack to your knuckles.

"Where've you been?" He asked, like he was much more concerned than disappointed. And while that was nice, it wasn't enough to stop you from wanting to cry a little. God you hoped you didn't look the way you felt.

"I'm so sorry I missed last weekend." You started, shifting in place, under George's study on you. "My water heater broke. Then my power went out. So, now I've got to go home and figure out what to do. I hate to miss another one of our dinners but-"

"What do you need?" His question interrupted your rambles to a halt. You held your breath and looked to the guy for a curious beat before explaining yourself.

"Well I'm just going to grab some things and find a place to stay. Probably just that Motel on Second Street. My landlord is such a-"

"The Second Street Motel?" George grimaced, like he had memories of the place he wasn't over yet. "That place is a dump. And they'll over charge you. Why don't... if you'd like... well you could stay with me." George's confident speech dwindled into something meek as he spoke on. It made you chuckle a little, the way he'd surprised you when you least expected it. And when a moment of quiet passed as you searched his stunning blues eyes, George spoke up more assuredly.

"Only if you want."

"Only if you're sure." Your smile fell away as  dozen of nerves rose to your throat as you responded.

"Come on." He nodded, turning to the door in the same fashion he'd always do when you were headed to the one of the only other places you'd gone together. His ride to the urgent care was courteous. His company at DeAngelos was kind. And his offer for you to spend the night was an all new layer of generosity that made you feel the way you did when he touched you a few weeks ago.

///

He waited in his car while you used the flashlight on your phone to throw a few things in a bag. Between your toothbrush, your night clothes, and some things for the morning, you forced yourself not to think about what was happening. You just urged your feet to move and tried not to seem too excited to settle back into George's car.

He drove to his place in a silence that felt different than all the other times before. And when you stole a glance over to him, you could have sworn he'd just turned away from looking over to you. The thought danced through your mind till his vintage ride pulled to a stop outside a row of townhouses. They were just a few roads away from your own, in a quiet, bleak part of town.

George held open his front door as you stepped in from the cold, a baby blue backpack full of essentials in your clutch. And all of your expectations for what Geogre's home might have looked like were not only unmet, but left you with more questions about the guy than ever.

The home was neatly decorated in pale colors. Plants and picture frames decorated every shelf and corner, and the dish towel in his kitchen matched the tea kettle on the stove. It was reminiscent of a much older person's space, with a vibrant charm of someone much more spry. You padded to the cozy living room as Geogre disappeared around a corner, leaving you to think up a dozen more questions about the fellow you were determined to get to the bottom of.

As you eased onto the navy sofa and abandoned your bag, a light came on in the hall and an old orange cat came prancing toward your feet. You glanced down to the pet as it meowed up to you, and stretched to balance against your knees. You cooed, reaching to pet it, before the animal jumped into your lap.

"That's Sadie." George spoke, stepping into the room, slowly making his way toward the sofa. "I was going to apologize for her disregard for personal space but you don't seem to mind." He chuckled.

"Not at all, she's lovely." You grinned, cradling the cat like a baby as purs rattled her delicate frame. George seemed to watch on as you admired the pretty animal in your arms. And when you dared to look back up to him, he sat up a little, from where he was perched on the edge of the couch.

George said something about ordering take away from a place nearby, and you agreed with the condition that you got to pay for it, too make up for his kindness in letting you stay in his lovely home. And much to your surprise, when you realized it anyhow, you felt perfectly content waiting around with George, for the pizza to be delivered. He stuck to his end of the sofa, while you settled into yours, holding fast to Sadie all the while. You talked about usual things, and even laughed over some others, until there was a knock at the door.

George went to answer, as you trailed toward the kitchen, stopping in the hall to admire some of the photos on the wall. There were plenty of his family, or maybe just friends. And even some of George, dressed in boxing gloves, at who must have been his father's side. The older man who looked so much like George held up an award as his son stood by with a shy smile and messy hair.

George found you gawking at his frames on his mission to set the box of pizza on the table.

"This photo is sweet. Did you win this garish award?" You teased, turning to find George wearing a grin reminecent of the one he sported in the photo.

"I did." He said.

"But you don't really do this sort of thing anymore..." You spoke, halfway asking why in the gentlest way you knew that might pry open his closed off manner.

"No I haven't for a while." George said. He poured you both a strong drink, the kind DeAngelos didn't serve.

"Why is that?" You wondered, easing to one of the wooden paint chipped seats at George's kitchen table. You watched him take a sip of the dark liquid in his glass, as you reached for your own.

"It got to be too much." He said, easier than anytime before. Like he actually wanted to tell you. And you kept a quiet eye on him, hoping if you waited long enough, he'd keep talking.

And much to your patient delight, he did.

"I started going to Fit after school, when I had nothing better to do. I'd stay till close, because I didn't want to go home." George explained. You took small bites of pizza and listened on, eyes softly glued to George's every word. And as he ate, he told you that he didn't have a very easy time growing up. How his father was sick, and his mother was never around. How George never thought of his future because he was busy worrying about each day at a time. You could tell he didn't talk about it. Any of it. So you just kept sipping your drink and offering gentle encouragement for him to keep going. Because you wanted to know. You desperately cared to know.

George told you that on one of Bareny's regular stops in, the gym owner took notice of George. How he'd listen to the distant encouragement some coaches gave to students in the ring. How he didn't have the money to take those lessons and stuck to practicing on the mats in the corner. How Bareny noticed, and asked George if he'd like to be trained. How he took up the owners generous offer, free of charge.

And when you nudged him to keep talking by asking all the right questions, George explained that Barney helped him enter into matches that he won like an old pro. How exhilarating it was at first. But those nights would end and George would go home and he would hate it. You knew better than to ask why, as he moved on. You just hoped this was the beginning of him letting you in bit by bit. The first of many stories.  You downed the last of your drink while George finished his pizza.

"Well you might not box anymore but I'd still love to watch you teach kids how." You laughed, watching George crack a smile across the table from you. He thanked you for covering dinner and you thanked him for letting you stay over. Then you launched into a sudden ramble about how stressed out you were about what to do, how it might be better to move than to keep combating your landlord. But how you didn't have the funds to put toward either of those options.

"God sorry I sound like a cry baby." You laughed, resting your glass in George's sink as he stored the left over pizza away.

"No you don't. You sound worried, and I'm sorry to hear it. Letting you stay over is the least I could do, really." George shrugged, shifting to face you. He stood a step away, keeping his intimidating gaze on yours. The kind of glare that might have made you feel small if you didn't know George. But you saw past the way he stood so tall and stoically. You saw more of him tonight than you ever had before. And that's what made you unsure of what to say next.

"I think I'll go get cleaned up now." You spoke with a gentle nod, heading to collect your bag. George showed you to the bathroom at the end of the hall before turning away and saying something about changing, himself.

You were left to bask at your reflection in the harsh golden light as the bathroom fan buzzed overhead. You dug through your backpack to find the nightclothes you'd brought along and thought of George as you stepped into the shower. The water was hot, pelting your shoulder blades with a warmth you hadn't had the luxury of experiencing all week. But you hurried along, mindful not to use up all the hot water.

When you changed and took a deep breath and peered back to the mirror, it was covered in steam. So you zipped up your backpack and made your way back out into George's home. Sadie was waiting patiently outside of the door. She wove between your feet as you took care not to step in her path before she settled to walk at your side. Was this some kind of dream, you wondered? Some kind of idyllic alternate universe, where nothing was the matter and the space you occupied was warm and safe and shared by the boy you hadn't stopped thinking of for months in a row?

At the end of the hall, George's bedroom door was open. A soft amber light shone from the bedside lamp you could see. George appeared into view as you were drawn to the space like a moth to a flame. He wore a tattered t-shirt and a pair of cotton joggers you'd never seen him wear before. His yellow hair appeared slightly damp and he looked happy, somewhere in the depths of his usually guarded expression. He looked at home.

Sadie brushed past your ankle, out of the hall and into the living room, leaving you and George the most alone you'd ever been.

He stalled in the doorway as you halted your floating closer. His eyes were softer than you'd ever seen them, sleepier; maybe.

"Right, well goodnight I suppose." You smiled, trying not to let your eyes rake over his figure. You could practically feel how close he was.

"Right." George seemed to decide, letting his eyes search yours for a beat before his glance drifted over your shoulder.

"I'll find you some blankets." He said, slowly stepping past you. But before he could drift down the hall you stopped him. Somehow, you spoke without even thinking, without even knowing you were brave enough.

All you said was his name, like a question. And that was all it took. George turned on a dime and kissed you. He crashed his lips against yours and tangled his long fingers in your hair as he cradled your head. His grip was the only thing holding you in place as you melted into a puddle, against him. When you started kissing George back, he moved one hand down the length of your side as he made one swift move to pin you against the wall. You couldn't help but let out a surprised breath, a sigh, a laugh of some kind.

George responded by kissing you harder, until you could hardly breath. And when you stopped kissing him back to do just that, you felt George's gentle grip against the exposed skin of your hip; tighten ever so slightly.

"Do I still have to sleep on your sofa?" You asked what felt like one dozen questions in one. Your fear of ruining the one in a million moment disguised by a lithe smile. George responded by letting out a laugh, his eyes nearly closing as he did. And when he was finished, he said;

"Come on."

You followed George to his bed, not daring to hide your excitement. He pulled you in with a smile, perhaps the broadest of smirks you'd seen him sport. There was still so much you longed to know about George. So many questions you were eager to ask, so many things you longed to hear him talk about. But spending the night sharing his pillow was a good place to start, you figured. You hadn't expected it of course. You never knew what was next with George. You'd only, simply, hoped for a next time. And with the way he looked at you now, and held on, you rekonned maybe he didn't want you to stray too far, either.

───※ ·❆· ※─── taglist: @haileymorelikestupid​  @maria-josefin​​ @imaginesandyeah​​ @queen-bunnyears @okaymackay​

[undead-notunreasonable]

So I remember you mentioned that you were bullied at school? So was I and I’ve been thinking about that a lot recently. What is it that happened to you then? Just curious- dw if you don’t wanna say

This is gonna be long... I’m pretty open with what happened to me when I was at school! So, I guess I was dealt the worst hand: ginger, skinny, Deaf. The problem is growing up, I always had a group of friends & would lose them, and honestly that happened to me recently, so I thought it was because of me when in reality it’s because people don’t get that if you’re deaf, your needs & worldview are SO much more different to that of an abled person & abled bodied people just don’t get it.

Primary school: I was part of the ‘popular’ crowd for quite some time & I never felt any different & I thought these group of girls were going to be my best friends forever. As we go older, things started to change, I was being included less & not being invited to much. Parents would tell their kids to not hang around the disabled kid. Literal grown adults. They even would constantly ask my Mum if she was feeding me or if I was ill because I was so small. My poor Mum. One time I stayed round a friends house for a sleepover & bare in mind we’re little kids we’re like 7? I had a teddy bear that I wouldn’t go ANYWHERE without so of course I brought it to the party. One girl spat her gum into my hair. Another hid my hearing aids. Another hid my teddy bear. They didn’t get in trouble but the Mum whose home it was, told me that I hid it & was playing up. Following morning, it was hot as hell so we had a water fight before our parents came to pick us up, but I couldn’t join it because I couldn’t get my hearing aids wet. Though, I did aim the running hose that everyone was using at one of the girls & she burst into tears, I stopped but the others continued. The Mum yet again blamed me. She told my Mum & my Mum was like “No, she wouldn’t have done that if someone said to stop. And she wouldn’t have put gum in her hair, hidden her bear, or hid her hearing aids.” Eventually they got older & they just outed me. Until I met another new girl who was SO tall & people were mean to her about her height, so I became her friend, and we became great friends! Until another new girl came in who was my friend but she didn’t like me much even though I didn’t do anything wrong. She convinced the tall one to abandon me just as we moved onto secondary school. Secondary school: We had like an introductory week at this school where we met all the other kids so we could at least know someone to hang out with. I was lucky, there was a girl I attended gymnastics with & so I spent the day with her but this one teacher put me with another girl who is a little person & the reason she kept putting me & her together was because “Well you both look similar & you’re disabled, so you’ll get on great.” which is SO fucking wrong. We tried to get on with each other but we just didn’t gel. We exchanged hi’s every so often but we later drifted. I managed to get back with the girl from gymnastics but she wasn’t in my class. I didn’t mind, I was looking forward to studying at a big school & I had friends in another class so it’s fine. Eventually the tall girl from primary & I became friends because the girl she went off with kicked her out of their friendship group & we stayed friends for 7 years. But, this was when Harry Potter movies were slowly coming towards their end (I think they’d released their 4th movie?) and so.. of course... being ginger... meant all the boys started calling me Weasley & Ginger Nut. One boy, used to pass me notes & honestly, I didn’t think it was bullying because I thought I’d actually made a friend in class because I get on well with guys, so I would pass insults back. It only later became bullying when that guy told his friends what he’d call me, they’d start throwing stuff at me when the teacher wasn’t looking. I tried to report it but the teacher didn’t care, told me to ignore it. Boys kept harassing me & so I took it to the vice principal. It happened SO often, literally every day for MONTHS no matter how many letters of apologies or detentions etc, that one day I went to her again for help & she just went “Holly, I’m too busy, deal with it yourself.” A new drama teacher came in and she saw that our class was pretty wild and she couldn’t figure out who was causing it. She asked me to take note in classes of everyone who got listed on detention boards & bring it back to her. Deaf people take things LITERALLY and so I LITERALLY wrote down their names as their names went on board. People started to notice & started cornering me & yelling in my face asking me why I was writing their names down. The teacher at the time in that building caught wind of it & asked me calmly why I was doing it. “Mrs Edwards asked me to.” was all I could stay & then later the Drama teacher explained that she meant mentally take note & that she was so sorry for any harm she’d caused. But this didn’t make me a popular person at all. Valentines were always filled with fake ones & pranks. People fake asking me out, even a friend gave me a card that was meant to be from my crush but it was made up. What didn’t help was that I was a big fan of the Twilight movies. Someone spread a rumour near prom that I was the head of Prom committee & that I was making it Twilight themed & this spread like wildfire. People would yell at me on the way to classes & spit at me “No one’s gonna fucking go to Prom if it’s TWILIGHT fucking themed!! You piece of fucking shit!!!” and I’d get messaged on my Facebook & MSM all night about how I’ve ruined everyones prom. I’d yell “Look at the fucking planners list that’s literally everywhere. I’m not even on it. I’m not even going.” and I really didn’t want to go, I wanted to stay in, in my pyjamas because I was so upset. One bully even cornered me before science class & got into my face, just screaming “You fucking ginger emo cunt! No one will ever fucking love you because you’re ginger & deaf!” and tried to shut us all out. I was in a rage & I managed to push open the door enough to kick him so hard in the shin & keep kicking. He never said a bad word to me again. But all my friends were going to prom & I wanted to go with them. So, I did. (And I wowed everyone there, all the bullies couldn’t believe it was me. I had my hair in a curled low bun, smoky eyeshadow, a black velvet bodiced dress, red jewelled choker round my throat, red silk skirt & arrived in an vintage car. It was vampy, it was gothy, but I looked good for the time. I even kissed my crush that night!) but a year down the line & all my girl friends said they didn’t want to be friends with me anymore because I just didn’t do anything. I was a tomboy, I wasn’t into shopping & getting nails done or clubbing. But they started doing things without me & stopped inviting me, stopped even considering me, so I plucked up the courage to ask why, they said I didn’t do anything, I said “Yeah, not the girly stuff but I would’ve loved to have gone to the movies & gone for dinner with you” and my best friend of 7 years said “I never even liked you anyway.” So I had no friends once more. College: I wasn’t so much bullied in college, other than you had you popular people & your dorky people but the friends I’d made of friends invited me to house parties & eventually down the years (what...5?) I found out between that time that they’d had a group chat on Whatsapp that I wasn’t a part of because it was a sex bet group. They would plot & wager who would convince me into bed first because I was the hot friend. I’m.. not hot. I’m okay. But still. They’d had a big bet on me. I found out & I was livid. I yelled at them & they told me I was being childish about it. So I broke away. I kept a few that I knew weren’t on the chat close. I introduced an old school friend to them & well... he was dating four of them, sleeping with them, then telling them he had to be somewhere else but was sleeping with someone else of the quartet. This all got out & EVERYONE fell apart. I felt so guilty because I’d introduced him but someone assured it wasn’t my fault. Adulthood: Then this year, I lost them all because I yelled at one guy who kept treating me like SHIT & I’d told him to back off. Everyone yelled at me, called me childish, and took his side. People who love calling out toxic & abusive behaviour, telling each other to not talk to someone because of this or that. That’s childish. He and I are working things about but it’ll never be the same. The only friend I had left really upset me when we both discussed about going to this little holiday hut I’d found & I got all excited. She knew I’d fallen out with my group of friends so I said “I don’t have anyone I can invite that can join us” and then she said “I know a few from uni who can come” and then booked it but... didn’t book it for me at all. She said “I can’t wait to go next year with my best friends, it’s gonna be so nice to spend a weekend with them” so I broke things off with her. Like, I found the place, we agreed to go together, we got excited, and then... you just dropped me.  So all in all, yeah I’ve been bullied. I don’t have any physical friends anymore, I just have internet friends & I suppose I’m not built for people. I have a few internet friends though, so I’m not entirely alone. But I don’t date for the same reasons, also because of what that one bully said & all the fake Valentines. I’m sorry what happened to you is playing on your mind but honestly, it’s really for the best for you to try & move forward, yes, the memories will be there, but its YOU who decides how you go about your life, how YOU look after yourself, not the past. You are who you are, and you’re wonderful, I’m sure. Except if you’re a terf or a racist but that’s something else.

[artificialqueens]

Tree House Kisses, Chapter 38 (Adorney) - Scorpio and Veronica

A/N: Click here for previous chapters. And thank you so much to @saiphl for the beta help!! XO!

Chapter Summary: The girls spend a summer apart, but then start their senior year, closer than ever.

Chapter 38: Feelings

Courtney’s dad had moved with his girlfriend to Berkeley earlier in the year, and both of her parents unilaterally decided that she should spend the summer with him for some “quality time.” She’d argued, she’d protested, she’d pleaded with Karen, she’d even cried; but in the end she had no choice but to go along with the plan, sullenly packing her things and boarding the train, defeated. Her only solace was that Roy was doing a summer program in Stanford for a month, which meant that at least they could still see each other on the weekends for part of the time she was there.

COURTNEY: JFC I’m gonna be sleeping on a goddamn fold out couch all summer. This is shit.

ADORE: Awww, so sorry, princess. Xx

COURTNEY: Lol, fuck you. You have no idea what this is like

ADORE: That’s true. I haven’t seen my dad for like ten years

COURTNEY: WAH WAH WAHHH YOU ALWAYS HAVE TO WIN

COURTNEY: ;)

ADORE: lol

The truth was, Courtney hadn’t really spent much time with her dad since the divorce. Sometimes it made her sad, thinking about how close they used to be. She tried to keep an open mind, but a big part of her was still angry about him having an affair, turning their lives upside-down, leaving her mom...leaving her.

Adore was right, though. As far as absentee fathers went, things could be much worse. One night, while he sat on the sofa (the one that doubled as the least comfortable bed she ever had) watching TV, Courtney wandered over and sat down next to him.

He looked up from the TV, surprised, a smile spreading across his face.

“Hey, kiddo.”

“Hi.” Courtney shifted slightly, tried to shake the horrible feeling that she was sitting next to a grown man that she barely knew. “Whatcha watching?”

“Just the news...if things go well this year, we can take both the house and the senate,” Peter told her. “And in 2008, that fucking shit-for-brains will finally be done and we can get the White House, too.”

“That would be awesome,” Courtney agreed, letting her head rest on her father’s shoulder. He wasn’t perfect, that was for damn sure...but when it came down to it, she supposed she was lucky to have him.

-

Meanwhile, Adore had gotten a summer job as a counselor at an arts day camp, and soon began spending her days surrounded by loud, attention-seeking child star wannabes. Every day, she came home and collapsed in exhaustion, vowing to never, under any circumstances, ever have children.

COURTNEY: How’s camp?

ADORE: The worst

COURTNEY: I’m sorry

ADORE: It’s all good. How’s the homewrecker?

COURTNEY: Weird

ADORE: Is she teaching you any good stripper moves?

COURTNEY: No, she just like, chain smokes and talks to her birds

ADORE: She has BIRDS?

COURTNEY: Yeah man, I told you. WEIRD

ADORE: What are the birds’ names?

COURTNEY: Something in Russian, I dunno. I just call them Boris and Natasha

ADORE: Lol you’re so corny

COURTNEY: I did meet some pretty cool anarchist guys down the block  

ADORE: What’s their band called?

COURTNEY: Who said they have a band?

ADORE: What’s their band called, Courtney?

COURTNEY: Pussy Whisper

ADORE: LOLOLOLOL

-

COURTNEY: Okay, so...this is going to shock you…

ADORE: ???

COURTNEY: The Pussy Whisper dudes?

ADORE: Oh jeez, what?

COURTNEY: They’re gross

ADORE: Yeah, no shit

COURTNEY: i just really liked what Tristan had to say about late stage capitalism

ADORE: Right

COURTNEY: And Grant said I was smart

ADORE: Well, that was your first clue

COURTNEY: HEY!!!

ADORE: Lol, not because you’re not. Because dudes in a band called “Pussy Whisper” that call you smart are up to some no-good shit

COURTNEY: Right. Ugh

ADORE: Bird lady still a fucking weirdo?

COURTNEY: Yeah. Although she did take me to a yoga class this morning, so that was nice. She’s actually maybe not the most vile person on the planet

ADORE: Awww, look at you, falling in love

COURTNEY: Shut up

-

Once Courtney got over her initial resistance, she had to admit that Berkely was somewhat cool. Certainly more her speed than the bland suburban wasteland she was used to. She spent most of her days wandering around used book stores, head shops, or combing through racks of cute vintage dresses. One afternoon, sunbathing in the backyard of her dad’s apartment building (which was a converted Victorian house that she also had to regretfully admit was pretty charming), she made friends with a very affectionate marmalade-colored kitten. Turned out, the cat belonged to their downstairs neighbor, and soon Courtney found herself fully enchanted with the older woman.

COURTNEY: Okay I found a much better new friend than the PW boys. She’s our downstairs neighbor and she’s like 70 and so cool. She has pink hair and all her clothes are made of hemp. She’s gonna take me to an Iraq War protest on Saturday.

ADORE: Oh jeez. You’re gonna come back with white person dreads, aren’t you?

COURTNEY: lol it’s a nice look

ADORE: IT IS NOT

-

ADORE: Abortion should be legal until the kids are like...12 years old, at least

COURTNEY: Campers getting on your nerves?

ADORE: If I snap, will you visit me in prison?

COURTNEY: Of course! I’ll bake a nail file into a cake for you and everything. XOXO

ADORE: Good cake or some bay area bullshit?

COURTNEY: Gluten free agave-sweetened carob cake, courtesy of Patsy

ADORE: Fuck off

COURTNEY: Don’t insult Patsy. She’s been protesting since Vietnam, she’s awesome.

-

ADORE: HEY CHEERLEADER THIS IS WILLAM! YOU’RE A SLUT AND WE MISS YOU!

ADORE: AND I’M VERY DISAPPOINTED THAT YOU DIDN’T FUCK THE PUSSY WHISPERERS

COURTNEY: Sorry bunny

ADORE: He’s high

COURTNEY: And you?

ADORE: Meeee? Whaaaaaat?

ADORE: Yes lol

COURTNEY: Lol, have fun

-

COURTNEY: Would it be really bad if I liked Katya?

ADORE: Omg are you gonna start calling her Mommy?

COURTNEY: Shut up!

COURTNEY: But seriously...it would be like, disloyal to my mom if I liked her, right?

ADORE: Are you gonna start adopting birds?

COURTNEY: No, I just think she’s kind of funny sometimes. I’m a terrible daughter

ADORE: Well, your mom IS the one who sent you up there for the summer. So…

COURTNEY: True

-

ADORE: So. Something happened last night that was...uh…

ADORE: Very

ADORE: ...

COURTNEY: ???

ADORE: Give me a minute...I’m processing...

COURTNEY: Tell me!

ADORE: Well, we started in Violet’s basement, drinking, and I’m not sure how but somehow it ended up being like 10 people

COURTNEY: Aww, was Violet sad I wasn’t there? Did she cry?

ADORE: lol, totally

COURTNEY: So what happened???

ADORE: Yeah, so...I went out to the backyard to smoke and Trin came and like...I’m not sure exactly how it happened, but I think I made out with her

COURTNEY: WHOA

ADORE: Yeah

COURTNEY: Is she gay???

ADORE: No, definitely not. We were just like, drunk and high

COURTNEY: Is everything cool between you??

ADORE: Yeah, I think so. We were laughing about it this morning. But like, I still feel a little bad.

COURTNEY: Why do you feel bad?

ADORE: I mean, I dunno. I don’t want people to think that I’m like, some predatory asshole, you know?

COURTNEY: No one would think that

ADORE: My track record might disagree

COURTNEY: The only thing your track record shows is you’re a ho

ADORE: WOW

COURTNEY: I WAS KIDDING!!!!

ADORE: lol, I know

COURTNEY: XOXOXOXO

-

As much as Courtney tried, and as much as she made her peace with her summer surroundings, by the time August rolled around, she began to get increasingly homesick. Missing her mom, her bedroom, even Grandma Muriel. But especially, missing Adore.

COURTNEY: I really miss you

COURTNEY: Like so much

ADORE: Me too

COURTNEY: No like SO much

ADORE: Are you high?

COURTNEY: No, are you?

ADORE: A little lol

COURTNEY: I’m not high. I just love you.

ADORE: Aww, thanks babe

-

“DORY!!” Courtney squealed, practically leaping from her car the second she pulled into the driveway. She’d texted Adore from her last stop for gas, but she was thrilled to see her best friend actually waiting for her.

She wrapped Adore into a tight hug, her excitement causing her to pepper Adore’s entire face with wet kisses.

“Hi, okay, stop it,” Adore giggled. “Nice car, by the way.”

“Oh yeah, I know, it’s pretty great. Peter gets a gold star for that one.” Courtney glanced back at the car, her dad’s old Honda Accord, shaking her new bangs out of her face. He’d surprised her with the keys just last week, and it had almost made her forgive him for leaving in the first place...almost. “It was kind of scary to do that whole drive alone, though. I’m very thankful to have made it in one piece.”

“Me too,” Adore said, with a grin that told Courtney she was home. “Now that you’re back, it’s gonna be a fuckin’ party.”

Courtney laid a head on her shoulder, sighing happily.

“You’re going to Darienne’s goodbye party on Wednesday, right?”

“Yeah, of course. Omigod! Dory! I wanted to make those peanut butter cupcakes that she loves, but you know I’m just absolute shit at decorating, can you help?”

“What on earth makes you think I’d be good at cupcake decorating?” Adore laughed.

“I dunno, you’re better at art than me,” Courtney said. “Plus, it’ll just be more fun with you.”

Adore pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Count me in.”  

-

School was going to be starting back up soon, and as Adore looked around the party at her friends, she couldn’t help but feel a little ambivalent. Summer had just been so nice, and having that small taste of freedom made her long to be done with school altogether.

Tonight, there was a big group at Pearl’s house--her usual friends as well as a bunch of the neighborhood kids, enjoying the pool and the warm evening air. Violet, Fame and Trinity lounged in the hot tub with April, watching the sun set. Pearl was standing at the grill, living her butch fantasy as she cooked up food for her guests, swatting Bob away with as he peered over her shoulder, trying to “help.”

It was a little bittersweet--Darienne had already left for Pepperdine a few weeks earlier, and Jamin for Cal Poly. Even though they weren’t as close as they used to be, it still felt strange, somehow, for them to be missing. Hell, it was even weird for Alyssa to be gone, the loudmouth head cheerleader now torturing people at UC San Diego, probably already sorority president.

A handful of people were dancing, including Courtney and Willam, twirling until they were dizzy and laughing.

“Ugh, I don’t want school to start!” Willam suddenly whined, reflecting Adore’s feelings exactly.

“I know, but this year we’re coming back as seniors, and we’re gonna rule the school,” Courtney said, imitating the line from Grease perfectly.

“Oh really? You think you’re Rizzo?” Adore challenged her.

“Why can’t I be Rizzo?” she demanded.

“Bitch, you are Sandy and you know it,” Adore laughed, grabbing a beer and sitting down on the back steps.

“I can be Rizzo if I want! Fuck you!”

“Yeah, lesbian! How dare you put cheerleader in a box! She can be whatever she wants!” Willam cried.

“That's right,” Courtney added, “I mean, I did spend all summer hanging out with a prostitute. What did you do? Day Camp?”

“I was a counselor,” Adore replied, laughing. She reached into the cooler and pulled out a bottle. “Here, have another drink. And I thought Katya was a stripper, not a prostitute.”

“You don't know her. It's a very blurry line,” Courtney explained, taking the offered wine cooler.

Willam grabbed Courtney’s hand and pulled her away, spinning her around and around. “Less talking, more dancing!”

Adore shook her head, watching them with a smile, lighting up a joint. Roy sat down beside her--the last of his class, since UCLA didn’t start for a few more weeks.

“Hey, Delano. How ya doing, man?”

“Good...bro.”

Roy flashed some dimples at her, then just sat for a minute, unusually quiet, as they both watched their friends dancing like fools. Willam dipped Courtney low to the ground and she shrieked and giggled.

“God, she’s so fucking beautiful,” he said.

Adore wasn’t sure if he was talking to her or himself. She nodded, leaning against the banister and sighing slightly.

When Roy spoke again, it was quiet. “I know, you know. How lucky I am.”

Adore looked at him, considering her reply. Finally, she just nodded and said, “Good.”

Roy gave her another smile.

“Make sure she stays outta trouble while I’m away.”

“I think I’m probably the least qualified person for that job,” Adore laughed, then held out the joint.

“Thanks, I’m cool.”

“Debatable,” Adore retorted, taking another hit.

Roy shook his head, chuckling.

“I’m gonna miss you too, Delano.”

“Aww...shut up.”

-

On the first day of their senior year, Courtney and Adore walked out of their fourth period economics class together, giggling over Laganja’s unfortunate new haircut.

“I feel bad for saying so, but it’s just so...”

“Hideous?” Adore supplied, and Courtney giggled some more.

“Yeah. Poor thing. Although it’s hard to say whether her hair is more or less tragic than Mr. Sutton’s awkwardness. He’s like a baby deer.”

“I know! But like, imagine trying to get the respect of students who are pretty much your age,” Adore laughed.

“How old do you think he is, anyway?”

“Uh, I don’t know, but I’m pretty sure he graduated with Kim and Angie. I think I remember him from when Angie did show choir.”

Courtney grabbed onto Adore’s arm, eyes wide.

“Omigod, you’re right! I knew he looked familiar!” she exclaimed.

It wasn’t until they were halfway down the hill that Adore noticed Courtney still walking with her. She hadn’t split off to go sit with the neighborhood kids like past years, simply walked beside her towards the oak tree, where Trinity and Willam already sat, sword-fighting with breadsticks.

“Are you...planning to join us?” Adore asked curiously, and Courtney bit her lip.

“Is that okay? I mean...it’s just a little weird without Roy and Darienne, so I thought…you can say no if-”

“Of course it’s okay!” Adore pulled her in for a side hug. “Everyone loves you, you know that.”

“Everyone?” Courtney asked, one eyebrow nearly to her hairline.

“Almost everyone.” Adore smiled ruefully. “And anyway, I want you here, so she can just deal with it.”

As it turned out, Adore was right. Everyone welcomed Courtney enthusiastically with open arms. And even Violet was unusually cool about it, containing her disapproval to some muttered asides to Fame, who promptly thumped her on the shoulder every time, akin to bopping a puppy on the nose with a newspaper.

Courtney didn’t seem to mind either way, cheerfully trading barbs with Willam and letting Fame “fix” her eyebrows, which were deemed “just too pale.”

“Are your pubes blonde, too?” Willam asked curiously, and Trinity began choking on her sandwich from laughter.

“Gross,” Courtney said, wrinkling her nose.  

“Actually, are they? I’m kind of curious,” Trinity said.

“Come on, cheerleader, just tell us!” Willam urged.

“You know, I quit cheerleading almost a year ago,” Courtney said.

“So?”

“He still calls me ‘New Girl,’” Pearl explained.

“Why are you stalling? Show! Me! Your! Pussy! Hairs!” Willam said, and Fame put her whole head in her hands, letting out a horrified groan before going back to Courtney’s eyebrows.  

“Careful, Bill, or you might get what you wish for,” Courtney sang, staring him down. “You really wanna see my pussy?”

“Uhh...no. Well, maybe...but no. Or…” Willam’s brow furrowed.

“Shit, you broke his little gay brain,” Pearl said, laughing.

“Omigod, that’s so much better!” Fame sat back on her heels, holding up a compact so that Courtney could see her new defined eyebrows.

“Oh wow, that is better! Thank you!”

After snapping the compact shut and handing it back to Fame, Courtney caught Adore’s eye, both of their faces melting into a grin. As Adore buried her smile into her sandwich, she couldn’t help but think about what a change it was from last year.

Maybe a sign of good things to come...or maybe the calm before the storm.

[quickspinner]

Beautiful Dreams - Ch 2 Daydreams

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | AO3

Marinette started coming to the music lessons every so often, dropping Louis off and picking him up. Luka gathered from Louis that it was unusual that she hadn’t come before, that normally Adrien and Marinette took turns getting Louis around to his activities. At least they didn’t just send him with the driver like Gabriel used to do. Luka wondered if Marinette hadn’t come before because she disagreed with Adrien about making Louis continue his lessons, but it was really none of his business, so he didn’t ask.

His reaction to her was just as strong as it was the first time, though he at least managed to retain control of his senses for the most part. It helped that their conversations were short and entirely professional, and after years of teaching, Luka could issue a verbal student progress report in his sleep. 

Luka did his best not to think about her outside of those interactions, and he was doing pretty well...for a while.

***

Luka sighed as he read Juleka’s message, and looked around for something to kill time. If he remembered where he was correctly, there was an outdoor flea market a couple streets over where he’d found some good vintage vinyls now and then. Might as well check it out, since Juleka was going to be late. 

Luka straightened the leather vest he wore over his t-shirt absently, glad he had opted against his jacket under this bright sun, checked to make sure he still had his wallet in his pocket, and set off. The market was a street or two farther down than he was thinking, but still only a few minutes walk. 

How he spotted her in a crowd like that, he’d never know, but there was Marinette, leaning over a table, turning over some brightly colored pieces of fabric—placemats maybe, he couldn’t really tell. She was dressed far more casually than he’d ever seen her, though she still looked nicely put together in jeans and a light sweater with a wide collar. Her dark hair was piled up in a messy bun so that there was one long unobstructed line from her neck to the curve of her shoulder—

Luka looked away quickly, feeling like a stupid teenager with a crush, butterflies in his stomach and all. It was stupid, he was stupid, he was a grown man and she was a client and he could say hi without being a total idiot about it. 

But then again, no, it would be weird, he decided. It would be one thing if she saw him, then obviously he would wave, but to go up and get her attention, no, they weren’t that closely acquainted. He aimed for a table piled with musical paraphernalia a few down from where she was and tried to stay casual and not look back at her again. 

Luka was thumbing through some old records looking for something interesting when suddenly there was a yelp and something crashed into him from the side. Luka lurched, just managing to keep his feet, but whoever had knocked into him was headed for a close encounter with the pavement. Luka reacted without thinking, managing to get one arm under the person—woman—and grab onto a wrist with the other hand. Off balance as he was, he couldn’t stop her fall entirely, but he managed to lower her to the pavement in a somewhat controlled way. His eyes widened when he realized who he had just rescued. “Fancy meeting you here,” he said with a slow grin, as Marinette blinked up at him. “You okay?”

“M. Couffaine!” she gasped. “I mean—Luka—I mean, yes, I’m okay, I’m so sorry, I don’t know what happened—”

Luka changed his grip from her wrist to her hand and tried to pull her to her feet, but she stumbled again immediately. “My shoes,” she said, leaning heavily on his arms. “Something’s wrong.” 

“Here, sit down,” Luka said, lowering her to the pavement a second time. “Ah.” He crouched at her feet, hooking two fingers through the shoelaces of her sneakers, which were tied to each other. “Looks like there’s a prankster on the loose.” 

“Oh!” Marinette made an irritated noise, blowing a piece of hair out of her face. “I bet I know exactly who it was. I just stopped some kids from throwing rocks at the birds a minute ago.” 

“You’re probably right,” Luka said, pulling off his sunglasses and getting down on one knee to tug at the knotted laces. “Just sit tight, I’m pretty good with knots.” He glanced up to find her looking at him with raised eyebrows. “Not, um, recreationally,” he grinned, with a wink that made her blush. “I grew up on a boat, so knots were kind of a part of life.” He avoided looking her in the eye, trying to focus on her shoelaces.

Not that looking at her legs was much better. Those jeans fit her really nicely. He bit his lip and hoped he wasn’t blushing visibly. 

“My bag,” Marinette muttered suddenly, twisting where she sat to look around. “Oh!” There was a large bag with the Gabriel logo on it on the ground nearby, its contents spread over the sidewalk. Fortunately most people were just walking around the mess rather than right over it, though her belongings were clearly in danger of being kicked all over the street. 

“I’ll get it, just sit tight for a minute,” Luka said, leaving her laces for the moment in favor of retrieving her things before they were trampled or stolen. 

“Wait, my sketchbook,” Marinette said, pointing to where it had fallen in the street. “I really need that. Everything else is replaceable.” She looked like she was about to crawl for it, but Luka waved a hand for her to wait and went to get it first. Watching the traffic carefully (Juleka would kill him if he ended up in the hospital over something like this), he stepped into the street, bent down, and got her book. He turned and held it up as he stepped back onto the curb; to his surprise, Marinette was blushing vividly. “Oh, um, thank you,” she stammered as he handed her the book, averting her eyes from him.

Slightly confused, Luka replayed the last few minutes in his mind. Wait, was she checking me out? Luka bit back a grin. “I’ll get the rest, just hang tight.” She made a strangled noise as he turned away, and it was all he could do to keep his laughter to himself as he picked up the rest of her things. He glanced back once, but Marinette was staring at the ground beneath her feet, her hands up on either side of her face like blinders. Luka laughed quietly as he picked up the rest of her things. She was too cute, and honestly it felt kind of good to be checked out by a woman like her. At least he felt less guilty for ogling her legs.

“I think I got everything,” he said as he set the bag down next to her. “You can check while I get you untied. Although—hang on, let’s get you out of the middle of the sidewalk.” There wasn’t much of a crowd at the moment but they were about due for the lunch rush to flood the sidewalks, and Parisians on a mission weren’t known for their patience. There was a bench only a few feet away. He crouched down beside her. “May I?”

Color flooded her face. “Oh, you don’t—I mean I can make it that far, you don’t have to—” 

“If that’s what you prefer,” Luka shrugged, offering his hands. She let him pull her to her feet and steady her, and then made a little hop towards the bench, and promptly toppled, almost losing her grip on her bag again. Luka, prepared this time, caught her around the waist, and raised an eyebrow, trying not to laugh and mostly failing.

Marinette sighed and pouted. “Fine. Please. I’m so sorry about all this.” 

“It’s fine,” Luka said, slipping one arm down under her knees. “Here we go.” 

A bridal carry was always a lot harder than they made it look on TV, but Marinette was small, so it didn’t take much to get her to the bench. He set her down and then sat down himself by her feet, guiding them up into his lap. 

“Thank you so much,” she said, sounding miserable. “Honestly, I’m so sorry about all this.” The little ladybug winked at him as she pressed her hand to her forehead in obvious frustration. 

“It’s all good,” Luka said, flashing her an easy smile. “I’m glad I was here.” He picked at her laces, silently resigning himself to redoing his nail polish that night. Marinette’s various falls had tightened the knot and there was no way his nails would survive. “I’m just killing time, anyway. I’m supposed to be meeting my sister for lunch, but she’s running late.” He glanced up and caught Marinette eyeing up his arms, but tried not to let on that he’d noticed, though a smile tugged at his lips. “How about you? Doing some shopping?”

“Some shopping, some sketching,” she sighed, leaning back on her hands. “Looking for inspiration, I guess.”

“This can be a good place to find it,” Luka said, glancing around at the market with all of its varied people and textures and sounds. “I’ve found it here a couple times myself. Been a while since I was here, though, honestly. I’m a little surprised to see you here in the middle of the day.” 

“Well, the truth is...” Marinette leaned forward, propped her cheek on one fist, and gave him a pout that drew his eyes straight to her sinfully perfect lips. “My assistant basically kicked me out of the office today. Apparently I was terrorizing the interns and she thought I could use a break. I’m not allowed to go back until at least 3:00.” She sighed. “I have a ton of stuff to do at the office, but I make it a point never to argue with the person responsible for my morning coffee, so here I am.” 

Luka had to clear his throat. “Sound policy.” He made the mistake of looking at her again and this time he caught the full impact of her beautiful eyes like a kick in the gut. His eyes tried to find somewhere else to look and landed on her bare neck, and the wide collar of her light sweater just hanging onto the tips of her shoulders—he quickly looked back down at what he was doing, mouth suddenly dry. He finally managed to pull free one loop of the knot. “There we go,” he muttered, just for something to say. “That should loosen it up a bit, and...there, you’re free.” He grinned at her, and retied her laces correctly.  

“Thank you so much!” Marinette turned and let her feet drop to the ground, and once again he couldn’t stop staring at the line of her neck and the curve of her shoulder. He needed to look away, right now, but before he could manage it she smiled up at him. “I’m so sorry for crashing into you like that.”

The first six responses he could think of were highly inappropriate and he was beginning to wonder if the collision had knocked a screw loose. “Better me than the pavement,” he finally managed, with a mostly natural smile. “Are you hurt?” 

“I don’t think so,” she said, checking her hands and arms, and dusting off the thigh of her jeans where she’d landed on the pavement. “No damage.”

“Good.” His phone buzzed and he checked it and sighed, falling back against the bench in frustration. 

“Everything okay?” Marinette asked, frowning. 

Luka sighed again but gave her a reassuring smile as he tucked his phone back into his pocket. “Yeah, it just looks my lunch date’s been cancelled, my sister can’t make it.” 

“Do you want to do it with me?” Marinette asked, and as Luka looked at her, startled, she went pale, and then red almost at once. “Oh my—I meant lunch! Do you want to grab lunch? Since you’re free and I’m thirsty—hungry! I mean it is hot and I need a drink and—shit, clearly I need something because my brain is totally malfunctioning.” She buried her face in her hands and gave a little moan. 

Her brain wasn’t the only one malfunctioning. Luka swallowed hard, trying to parse everything he’d just heard with the part of his mind that didn’t live in the gutter, but unfortunately it seemed most of it was at least visiting at the moment. Before he could make much progress, Marinette took a deep breath, took her hands off her face, and looked at him squarely. “Sorry, let me try that again. Can I buy you lunch as thanks for helping me out?” she asked, her face still red but appearing otherwise calm. 

“Ah, sure,” Luka answered before he could really think it through. “Sure, why not? Although you don’t really need to thank me, what was I going to do, leave you lying on the sidewalk to get trampled?” 

Marinette smiled. “Still. I nearly knocked you down, you had to pick up my stuff out of the street, and carry me around, and you fixed my laces. The least I can do is buy you a sandwich or something. Besides, now that you’ve mentioned food I’m kind of starving. Were you planning on somewhere close by?”

“Jules and I were just going to a little place a couple of blocks over. It’s—it’s not much, barely more than a food stand honestly, so if you’d rather do something else—”

“No, no, that sounds good!” Marinette actually looked excited about it, which Luka couldn’t really understand. She’d probably eaten at the best places in the city. Even divorced she probably had more money to her name than Luka had ever touched in his entire life. Hadn’t Adrien said she was Gabriel’s head designer? The phrase out of his league suddenly leapt to mind. Except, wait, he wasn’t trying to date her, he reminded himself. She was a client. 

Well, technically, Adrien was the client, but...no. Just, no.

As they walked Luka cursed his natural urge to touch; he kept finding his fingers on her upper arm or her shoulder and snatching them back as he guided her to the little food shop that he and Juleka liked. It really was just a little hole in the wall sandwich place, it didn’t even have any real seating, so he and Marinette ended up finding another bench to sit on as they ate. 

“Wow, this is really good,” Marinette exclaimed, catching a bit of sauce on her thumb and licking it off. Luka glanced at her just in time to catch the flick of her tongue and the flash of the ladybug, and he bit down on his sandwich a little harder than necessary. “Thanks for telling me about this place.” She wrinkled her nose and leaned towards him a bit, as if she were telling him a secret. “Gabriel would’ve shit a brick if he knew I was eating at a place like this, in public no less. Makes everything taste better.”

“Don’t mention it,” Luka laughed in incredulous surprise. “Any day I can make Gabriel Agreste roll in his grave is a good day.” 

“Ugh, that man,” Marinette shook her head, taking another bite. “If only he’d died sooner.” She flushed and covered her mouth with her fingers. “I mean…”

“Don’t worry, you’ll get no argument from me,” Luka chuckled. “I couldn’t stand him, and the feeling was very much mutual.” 

Marinette cocked her head at him. “How did you get to know Adrien? We were together for so long, I’m surprised I never met you before.”

“Music events,” Luka shrugged. “I didn’t see him regularly, really, just every few months. He was always really nervous and I hated sitting still in those damn awful suits they made me wear for recitals, so we’d run into each other pacing the halls and get to talking.” He shook his head. “Listening to Adrien perform back then was painful, it was like listening to a robot. Soulless, you know? I kept thinking what a waste, to spend all that time practicing and in the end all you got was that. We talked a lot wandering those halls, at first just about music, and then about a lot of other things, including his dad. After that, I started to understand why his music sounded the way it did.”

Marinette gave him a knowing look. “And you tried to help, didn’t you?”

“I—yeah, I did,” Luka chuckled. “I tried to help him feel the music. Eventually I invited him to be part of a band I was in at the time, tried to show him what music could really be like, you know, but he only got to come for a couple practices before the old man brought the hammer down. We kept in touch off and on, but we had to keep it quiet.” Luka rolled his eyes. “I’m a terrible influence, you see.” He gave a general gesture that included his dyed hair, pierced ears, tattooed arms, and general punk aesthetic.

Marinette made a sympathetic noise, her index finger bending down to rub the ladybug tattoo absently. 

Luka sighed. “Heaven forbid anybody teach his perfect little robot how to actually feel something while he played. Adrien did learn it somewhere along the line, but I’m not sure it was from me.” Luka’s forehead creased as he ran the memories through his mind. “I think he got together with you pretty shortly after Gabriel pulled him out of the band, now that I think about it. We didn’t see each other much over the next few months, Gabriel was paying too much attention. Eventually I think he just forgot about me since Adrien was back on the straight and narrow.”

“That sounds like Gabriel,” Marinette sighed, and then shook her head as if clearing it. “By the way, is your sister okay? I mean, I don’t mean to pry, it’s just, you said she cancelled on you, but I didn’t think to ask if anything was wrong.”

“Oh, she’s...fine,” Luka said, a little reluctantly, and then sighed heavily. “She and her wife had a baby very recently, and it’s been kind of tough on them both. I guess she just didn’t feel like she could leave them this morning.” Luka tapped a foot restlessly. “To be honest, it’s been rough for the whole family for a while now. My mother—our mother, she...passed away, about a year and a half ago, and I took it pretty hard, so Juleka’s had a lot on her shoulders between dealing with me and her pregnant wife, not to mention how the loss affected her. I really wanted to start making it up to her and at least get her out of the house for a little bit, but I guess today’s just not the day.” 

“That’s such a difficult time,” Marinette said sympathetically, crumpling up her empty sandwich wrapper and making a fairly impressive shot into a nearby trash bin. “I’m sorry to hear about your mother.” Luka glanced at her, and then away. He hated those words most of the time, but at least Marinette sounded sincere. “I can’t even imagine what it’s like for you to lose her, but I do know that a baby is a big change for everyone, even if you think you’re prepared and you have all the support in the world. Oh!” She held up a finger, and started digging in her bag. “Actually I have something that might help a little bit.” She pulled out a couple of envelopes out of her bag and offered it to him. Luka put aside his own trash and wiped his hands quickly on a napkin before taking them. “I used to get these all the time,” she said, as Luka’s eyes widened slightly reading them over. “Less these days, but still more than I want to mess with. There’s always some spa or other offering something to me, because of my position at Gabriel and as the former Mrs. Agreste.” She rolled her eyes. “I mean, I like a spa day as much as the next girl, but I don’t know, it just feels gross being offered stuff like this so they can brag about how they kept me young and fresh for the runway shows. Your sisters are welcome to use them. I know a good sitter if you need one.” 

“This—Marinette this is a really nice place, are you—are you sure?” The cards in his hands were probably worth two hundred euros each, easy. “Surely there’s someone else you would rather give them to?”

Marinette smiled and leaned over, covering his hands with her own. “Nobody that needs a day off as much as your sisters. And it’s not like I earned them, you know? It’s all for Gabriel and Adrien, not for me. I’d much rather your sisters get a break.” She sighed and got to her feet. “I have to get going, I have some meetings this afternoon that I can’t miss, but thanks for having lunch with me! I feel much less ready to murder interns now.” She hunched her shoulders slightly. “I probably should pick up something yummy for them as an apology for being so snappy this morning.” 

“Right,” Luka said absently, still rather stunned. “Marinette, are you really sure, I mean, thank you, very much, I just...um…” Marinette giggled when he just continued to stare. “Careful, you’ll catch flies.” She winked at him as he shut his mouth quickly, and it felt like her ladybug was laughing at him as she waved goodbye.

She got a few steps away and then turned around again, and he could have sworn she was blushing. “I’ll see you Tuesday? It’s my turn to bring Louis.”

“Yeah,” Luka said numbly, a little too late. “See you then.”

Marinette just gave him one more bright smile before taking a step backwards and catching her heel on an uneven place in the sidewalk. Luka winced but she managed to catch herself, and he caught a glimpse of her red face before she turned and power-walked away. She’s funny, he thought to himself with a smile, carefully putting away the spa certificates in an inside pocket of his vest. And generous. Kind and thoughtful. Hot, hell yes, but still cute. No wonder Adrien married her so young. If I’d met a girl like that back then, I wouldn’t have let her go either. 

***

By Tuesday afternoon, Luka was reasonably sure he had his shit together and his head mostly on straight, right up until Marinette and Louis showed up at his door and it turned out he couldn’t even look at Marinette right away. “Hi, Louis,” Luka exchanged a fistbump with the boy. “Ready to work?”

“Yes, sir,” Louis chirped, and then Luka’s eyes shifted up. She was back in her designer business suit with her hair carefully done, perfectly elegant and poised and untouchable. The consummate business woman.

“Marinette,” he greeted, as evenly as he could. “Nice to see you. No worse for wear?”

“Hi,” she smiled, and damn if he wasn’t getting just a little bit obsessed with that ladybug tattoo as she gave him an odd little wave and smoothed her hair self-consciously. “No, I was fine. Not even a bruise! You? I mean, of course you’re probably fine, but I did almost knock you down—”

“Mom, you’re being weird,” Louis whispered, and Luka had to look away to hide his smile. She might look like a business woman, but she still acted like the fluttered woman from the market.

“Hush, you,” Marinette muttered, face pink. She looked up at Luka and turned a little pinker. “Um, do you know of a coffee shop or something nearby where I can work? I have some things I really need to get done and I don’t want to waste more time in the car than I have to, so I thought I could just find somewhere close. If you know of anything.”

“I do,” Luka answered with a slow smile, “But you’re welcome to work here.” He gestured towards his living room. “Or at the table in the kitchen, if you prefer.”

“Oh, I don’t want to intrude on your private space,” Marinette said, holding up her hands, and there was the ladybug again. “A coffee shop is fine.”

Luka shrugged, eyebrows raising slightly. “It’s not intruding if you’re invited, but by all means, do whatever you’re comfortable with. There’s a shop around the corner. Honestly their coffee isn’t very good, at least not to my taste, but it’s a comfortable place to work. Or—” he swept his arm again toward his living room. “Make yourself at home. Take your pick. Come on, Louis, let’s get started.” He led the boy down the hall to the studio. 

With the music as a distraction, he quickly forgot about Marinette until the lesson was over, and when he walked out of the studio with Louis, he had to choke back a laugh. 

Marinette was sitting on his couch with her laptop across her knees and a bluetooth headset blinking in her ear, but her head had fallen back and she was snoring lightly. Her hands rested slack against her keyboard, twitching slightly. Luka covered his smile with his hand and Louis giggled. 

“She’s been working too hard again,” Louis whispered. He looked up at Luka hopefully. “Can we let her sleep?”

Luka sighed. “I wish we could, but I don’t know her schedule or what kinds of things she needed to do today, so it’s probably best if you go ahead and wake her up.” He patted Louis’ shoulder. “Sorry.”

Louis heaved a kid-sigh and trudged over to his mother. He tugged at her arm. “Maman.” Marinette whined, and Luka bit his lip against his amusement. She was too cute. 

Louis tugged harder, shaking her lightly. “Maman, wake up.”

“Not yet, Louis, it’s too early. Come rest with Maman,” Marinette slurred, wrapping her arm around Louis and pulling him down against her. 

“Maman!” Louis shot a pleading look at Luka, who couldn’t help chuckling. Louis glared at him. “You were the one who said I had to wake her up. Quit laughing and help me.”

“All right, all right,” Luka put up his hands, still chuckling, and went to Marinette’s other side. The ottoman made leaning over her awkward from that position so he sat next to her and took hold of her shoulder, shaking gently. “Marinette. Wake up, honey.” He winced slightly. That probably wasn’t appropriate. She stirred, but didn’t quite wake. Luka shook her again. “Marinette.” 

She rolled her head towards him with a soft “Hmm?” and her eyes blinked open sleepily.  God, she’s cute.

“You fell asleep,” he told her softly. She blinked those beautiful eyes a couple more times before the realization sank into her brain, and she shot up off the couch, and then promptly lost her balance as her shins hit the ottoman. Louis caught her laptop as it slid off her lap. Luka lunged and got an arm around her waist and a hand on her forearm. “Easy, easy,” he soothed, trying to steady her and hold his own balance at the same time. “You’re okay. You couldn’t have been asleep for long.” He guided her to sit back down. 

“I’m so sorry,” she gasped. She looked at Louis and then back at Luka. “The lesson’s over?” 

“All done,” Luka nodded. 

“I’m so sorry to impose.” She checked the time. “Um, the driver should be here shortly.” 

Luka shrugged. “It’s no trouble. Louis is my last student for today and I don’t need to be anywhere.”  He looked at Louis and tilted his head toward the row of guitars. “You want to pick another one?” Louis had been curious, so they usually spent a few minutes going over whichever guitar model he wanted to look at that week while they waited for the car. These were Luka’s personal instruments, and he didn’t normally let students touch them, but Louis was clean and careful, and Luka couldn’t refuse in the face of the boy’s enthusiasm.

Louis brightened and went over to the row of guitars, chewing his lip thoughtfully. Luka chuckled at his serious expression, and he heard Marinette giggle at the same time. The two adults shared an amused look. 

“Can you show me this one?” Louis pointed.

“Sure.” Luka picked up the classical guitar, checked that it was in tune, and set it in Louis’ hands. Luka showed Louis how to hold it, positioning his hands, and described how it differed both from the bass and the steel-string acoustic that he’d tried before. Without prompting, Louis positioned his fingers into the chord Luka had shown him the previous week, and strummed.

Luka grinned. “Not bad, piano man.”

Louis giggled, and offered it back to him. “I like this one,” Louis said, “Can you play something on it? Please,” he added hastily, glancing at his mother.

Luka took the guitar and sat down on the couch, positioning it in his lap. He played a simple tune, Louis’ eyes following his fingers curiously. Then a wicked idea came to him and he grinned, fingers already moving to his purpose as he darted a glance at Marinette. 

“Beautiful dreamer, wake unto me,” he sang, and nearly lost his composure entirely at Marinette’s dropped jaw and outraged expression. “Starlight and dewdrops are waiting for thee…”

Louis caught on and giggled, and Marinette shot him a look of betrayal. 

“Sounds of the rude world, heard in the day, lulled by the moonlight, have all passed away—“ He only barely made it to the end of the verse without laughing, and then had to pause, one hand over his lips, to get his chuckling under control. 

“Rude,” huffed Marinette, which only made both Luka and Louis laugh harder. 

Luka kept playing, even as he tried to stifle his laughter. He meant to give her his best puppy eyes in request for forgiveness, “Beautiful dreamer��“ but their eyes locked and as he sang the line, the look became something else. “Queen of my song,” his voice had gone a little husky, but he was committed now. “List while I woo thee with soft melody.” He couldn’t make himself look away. “Gone are the cares of life’s busy throng. Beautiful dreamer, awake unto me.” His hands finished the song almost absently. When the last chord faded, Marinette blushed and looked away. 

Luka cleared his throat, tearing his eyes away from her and looking back to Louis, unsurprised to find the boy watching him intently. Louis was a smart kid, empathetic and intuitive. Luka had known that from their first lesson. Dropping his eyes to the guitar, Luka played the first thing that came to mind. “My love is like a red red rose, that’s newly sprung in June, my love is like a melody that’s sweetly played in tune.” 

Louis wrinkled his nose. “Don’t you know any that aren’t mushy?”

Luka chuckled. “It’s a romantic instrument.” He nudged Louis with his elbow. “Like the piano.” He played a few more bars, and sighed. “My mother used to sing that one when I was a kid,” Luka said a little thickly, a sudden sense of loss sweeping over him. He cleared his throat, and felt a hand press his shoulder. He looked into soft blue eyes and his breath caught for a moment. 

“It’s lovely that you can remember her that way,” Marinette said quietly.

Luka cleared his throat again. “Yeah. She left a pretty strong legacy behind. This is the first time I’ve sung it since…I don’t know why I picked it now.”

Marinette sat down on the ottoman, her knees almost touching his. “Can you play a little more? Only if you want to.”

Luka complied, if only to keep from breaking down. “As fair art thou my bonnie lass,” he sang softly, but heavy with emotion, and then his years of performance betrayed him and he made the mistake of looking up into her face, “So deep in love am I—” His throat seized up for a moment as their eyes locked. Oh, shit, he thought, heart racing. He tore his gaze away, swallowing. “And I will love thee still my dear,” he managed, “Till all the seas run dry.” Luka shook his head, putting the guitar aside quickly. “I’m sorry, I can’t.”

“That’s okay. It was beautiful.” Marinette reached out and squeezed his shoulder. “I hope someday you’ll be able to play the whole thing again.”

Luka nodded, his gaze still on the carpet as he tried to get a grip on the conflicting emotions swirling around in his gut. 

“I like that one,” Louis said again, only a little stiffly. “The guitar, I mean.”

“Me too,” Luka wiped his eyes with his thumb and smiled, looking at him. “It’s my favorite after the electric. It’d suit you if you’d like to give it a try.”

Louis frowned. “I play piano.”

Luka chuckled. “So do I. You can play more than one. You’re allowed to love more than one instrument.”

Louis' eyes flicked between Luka and Marinette, and then he looked at the floor as he shook his head. “I play piano.”

Luka got the hint. “Okay.”

“The driver’s here,” Marinette burst out, looking at her phone, clearly relieved. “Time to go, Louis.” She held out her hand to Luka. “Thanks for letting me work in your home.”

“My pleasure,” he said, standing and taking her hand, squeezing it gently rather than shaking it. “Don’t work too hard. Louis worries about you.” He smiled. “And you can’t be your best creative self if you're exhausted.” She blushed adorably and dropped his hand like it burned her. 

“Yes, well, um...thank you. Bye.”

“Mom,” Louis whispered, taking her hand. “You’re being weird.”

“I’m always weird,” she hissed back. 

Luka looked away to hide his smile, then put the guitar on the stand. He picked up Marinette’s briefcase and laptop bag and motioned her towards the entry. “Shall we?” 

“Right, yes,” Marinette said quickly, and Louis rolled his eyes and tugged her down the hall. Luka followed with Marinette’s things. He walked them all the way to the car. “Thank you,” Marinette said breathlessly as she took her bag. 

“My pleasure,” Luka said again, and she looked up at him for a moment and all he saw was blue, blue, blue, how could anyone’s eyes be so blue. 

He kept it together long enough to say goodbye and get back inside, but only barely. Luka shut the door and put his back to it, sliding down to the floor and putting his head in his hands. “Shit,” he muttered under his breath. “This can’t be happening.” This had disaster written all over it. He couldn’t possibly be falling in love with Adrien’s ex-wife. 

But he was. Oh God, he was. And somehow he’d sung her his mother’s song and he missed his mom so much and now he was six different kinds of fucked up and it was a good thing Louis was his last lesson for the day, because he wasn’t sure he’d be getting up off the floor anytime soon.

Luka fumbled his phone out of his pocket and dialed, holding it up to his ear as he tangled his fingers in his hair and rested his forehead on his knees.

“Hey, Luka, what’s up?”

“Hey Jules.” His voice cracked and he cleared his throat. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing,” he said quickly. “Nothing major, anyway, just...sad. Do you think I could come over tonight? I’d really like to see my girls.”

“Of course,” Juleka replied, and he kind of hated the softening of her usual cutting tone. It made him feel even more pathetic. “Are you—do you need me to come home now?”

“No,” Luka said quickly. “No, I can wait until you’re off work.”

“Okay,” Juleka sighed. “If you’re sure. I’ll be home at six, but if you need to, you can go on over, you know Rose will be there.” 

“I don’t want to bother her,” Luka shook his head. “I know she’s been struggling emotionally since she had the baby, I don’t want to bring her down any worse. I’ll wait for you. I probably need a little time to get my head on straight anyway.”

“Okay, but you know we’re there if you need us, right?” Juleka sounded worried and Luka winced. 

“I promise, Jules, I’m okay. Just...some things got a little heavy today, and I started playing mom’s song without even thinking about it and it just kind of hit me like a truck, that’s all. I promise I’m okay this time.”

“Okay, bro,” Juleka sighed. “I gotta go, okay, I’ll see you tonight.”

“Thanks Jules. Bye.” He set the phone down on the floor next to him and leaned his head back on the door.

He didn’t like to say he had taken his mother’s death harder than Juleka; they were a close-knit family and they all felt the loss. Their grief just looked different. Juleka had Rose and now their daughter, and she couldn’t afford to fall apart all at once, so she did it in little pieces spread out over time. Luka had commitments he had to keep, and he had, but he’d had a lot more freedom to be crushed by the weight of losing his mother and the boat he’d grown up in. He put his elbows on his knees and clasped his hands in front of his face, blowing out a breath. 

Now he had a new problem. He was falling for Marinette. Maybe had fallen already. Probably was doomed the moment he opened the door that first day and forgot how to breathe. And as he sat there and admitted it to himself, the logical next question presented itself:

What are you going to do about it?

The smart thing would be to do nothing. She was his student’s mother and his friend’s ex-wife. He didn’t see her outside of work except for that one time. He could ignore it, write a few songs about it and move on. Maybe go on some dates to take his mind off it. Juleka had been bugging him to go out again.

The thought of dating again made him sigh. The whole cycle of dating just exhausted him. He led something of a double life, mild-mannered music teacher by day and rock guitarist by night, and it felt like he was always disappointing the people he dated eventually, because he didn’t care about the conventional definitions of success. Luka wasn’t ambitious; he didn’t need to be a rock star or a virtuoso. Music had always been about connection for Luka. He liked playing small venues and he liked teaching his students. At the same time, he loved playing his own music, he loved playing with the band, and he wasn’t about to give that up either. Introverted by nature, dealing with his kids and clients and crowds already wore him out—usually in a good way, a ready to recharge and go to bed at the end of the day way. Add dating into that though, and...ugh. 

Luka couldn’t remember the last he’d been excited to go out with someone. What was the point? How could you connect with someone when you spent the whole day dreading the experience? So he just...stopped. Dating for the sake of dating, anyway. He’d always thought when he met someone that made him think it’d be worth it, he’d try again.

Lately Luka had started to entertain the thought that he had Juleka and Rose and his niece and his music kids, and maybe that should just be enough for him. And it...sort of was. Sometimes. 

But Marinette...she would be worth it. He wanted to go out with her, he wanted to know her better. The thought of holding her, kissing her, sent a visceral longing through him he hadn’t felt since his last serious relationship. And...she’d seemed a little bit into him too. Attracted to him, at least. Maybe there was a chance, if he was willing to take it, but...

Luka slid his hands down his face and stared over his fingertips into his empty apartment.

***

It was hard, waiting for Juleka to get out off work, and Luka was knocking on their door before Juleka had even had time to change out of her work clothes. He planted himself on the couch and fidgeted until she came back. 

“Sorry,” Juleka said, handing him a soda. “Rose doesn’t want to drink while she’s nursing so we don’t have any beer.”

“It’s fine,” Luka sighed. “Probably the last thing I need right now anyway.” He looked longingly at the baby carrier strapped to Juleka’s chest. Luka’s heart eased a bit just looking at her. “Mind if I hold her for a bit?” 

Juleka smiled, took Angelique out of the baby carrier, and handed her over carefully.  Luka grinned down at the scrunched up little face. “Hey, you,” he cooed. “How’s my best girl?” 

Angie’s newborn-blue eyes were squinty and unfocused, but she turned her head towards him, wiggling in her wrap. Luka sighed and murmured “I wish Mom could have seen her.”

Juleka raised her eyebrows. “Is that really why you sounded so messed up when you called? Missing Mom?” 

“Some of it,” Luka sighed again. “Hang on, I’m moving out of smacking range before I tell you this one.” He slid to the far end of the couch.

“What did you do,” Juleka groaned, letting her head fall back against the couch. “Damnit, Luka.”

“I haven’t even said anything!”

“Fine, then say it so I can get on with complaining about what an idiot you are.”

Luka eyed her for a minute before admitting, “It’s a girl.”

“Damnit, Luka!”

“Real encouraging, Jules,” Luka snapped, getting a little irritated. Angie made a fussy noise and he automatically began rocking her, making a gentle shushing noise near her ear.

“So,” Juleka sighed, when Angelique was quiet again, “Lay it on me.”

Luka told her the whole story, as honestly as he could manage. How Adrien had come to him for help. How he’d met Marinette. How he’d reacted to meeting Marinette. How she was sweet and pretty and kind, and even though he hadn’t known her very long, but—

“You never know them very long,” Juleka muttered. “That’s your problem. If you would go out and meet some real people, make some friends, you might have better luck.”

Luka didn’t bother answering. That was an old argument. It was something Luka had accepted about himself that Juleka never quite had. Most of the time, he felt an instant connection, or none at all. 

“Well,” Juleka said slowly, picking at a loose thread on the battered couch. “What are you going to do about it?”

Luka sighed. He’d been stewing over that all day. “She’s Adrien’s ex-wife.”

“Emphasis on the ex.”

“He’d probably be really hurt,” Luka mused, scrubbing his hand over his face. “I know the divorce wasn’t his idea.” Juleka didn’t respond right away and Luka frowned. “You’re making the face.”

“What face?” 

“The face you make when you’re trying to be tactful,” Luka said wryly. “Just spit it out, Jules, you suck at tact.”

“First, bite me, and second, they’re divorced.” Juleka shrugged. “She left him. Unless you think they might get back together—” Luka shook his head. “Then I know there’s probably some stupid bro code bullshit but—” Juleka made a gesture that clearly showed her opinion of that. “You’d hate yourself if you missed out on something great for such a stupid reason. He really doesn’t have any right to be upset. Marinette’s the one who decides who she wants to be with, if anyone. Besides, you and Adrien hadn’t seen each other in years until he called needing your help.”

“That doesn’t mean we’re not friends,” Luka protested. “You’re so desperate for me to be in a relationship that you’ll justify anything,” he grumbled, rubbing his cheek lightly against Angie’s soft hair.

“If you believed that you wouldn’t be here asking me for advice.” She paused. “And I’m only desperate for you to be happy. I just know you’re lonely. It’d be one thing if you were really happy on your own but we both know you’re not. And you know Mom would tell you to go for it if she were here.”

Luka scowled. “Low, Jules.”

Juleka spread her hands. “Disagree with me.”

Luka couldn’t because he knew she was right. Anarka had always been a damn the consequences kind of woman, especially when it came to romance. 

“She’s a client,” he pointed out half-heartedly. “It’d be unprofessional to ask her out when I’m working, and I wouldn’t do it in front of the kid anyway. You and I both know how crappy that feels. I feel bad that I let it slip in front of him this afternoon as it is. I’ve only ever seen her the one time outside of work, and that was a fluke.”

“A fluke, or an opportunity?” Juleka asked him, raising her eyebrows slightly. “Maybe you should see if the universe throws you another one. Do what you do best, go with the flow, and then seize the moment when it comes.”

“What if it doesn’t come?” Luka asked moodily. 

“Then maybe it wasn’t meant to be,” Juleka shrugged. “Or maybe you’re actually going to have to step up and make something happen. Your call, really.” She gave a lopsided smile. “How much faith do you have in the universe right now?”

Luka snorted. “You’re joking, right?” He jumped slightly as his phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out and his eyes widened slightly. “You’ve gotta be shitting me.”

“What?” Juleka said.

Luka picked up the call. “Hey Marinette,” he said as casually as he could manage, making sure not to look at Juleka. “What can I do for you?”

“Hi, Luka, I’m so sorry to bother you,” she said, sounding flustered as usual, “I think I left a folder at your place this afternoon, and I was hoping I could come by and pick it up. Did you see it? It was pink and—well, it was a pink folder, it looks like any other folder except pink, I don’t know what I was trying to—anyway, have you seen it?”

“I haven’t,” Luka said, trying not to laugh. “But I can look for it when I get home.”

“Oh, you’re out—well, of course you’re out, why wouldn’t you be out, I’m stupid—”

Luka grinned in spite of himself, and turned his face away from Juleka’s rising eyebrows. “Yeah, I’m hanging out with my sisters tonight, but I could drop it by your office tomorrow if you like.”

“Oh, no, I don’t want to trouble you, I know you have students and...and whatever, so just let me know what time is good and I’ll come by and pick it up tomorrow?” 

“It wouldn’t be any trouble—” Luka began, and then changed his mind. “But if you’d rather pick it up that’s fine, just let me know when you’re heading over. I’ll look for it when I get home and text you?”

“That’s perfect, thank you,” Marinette said gratefully. “I’m so sorry, God knows what you must think about me after this afternoon as it is, and now I’m—”

“Stop, stop,” Luka said gently. “It’s fine, Marinette. You’re human and Louis said you’ve been working really hard. It’s great to be dedicated but don’t let it burn you out.” He caught the warning look Juleka gave him and broke off the lecture. “Anyway, I don’t think badly about you at all, so—so I’ll see you sometime tomorrow.” Juleka rolled her eyes at him and he made a face at her that meant shut up. 

“Right, tomorrow. Um, goodnight, Luka.”

“Goodnight, Marinette,” Luka said, and hung up quickly, blowing out a breath. 

Juleka smirked at him. “Smooth.”

“Oh shut the fuck up,” he muttered, chucking a throw pillow at her.

“Hey! Don’t curse in front of the baby, asshole!” she scowled, and then winced at a shriek of “Juleka!” from the doorway.

Luka grinned smugly. “Hey Rose.” Juleka subtly flipped him off where Rose couldn’t see.

“Hi Luka.” Rose leaned over the couch and kissed his temple, and while she greeted Juleka, Luka fished the two spa cards Marinette had given him out of his jacket pocket. 

“I’ve got something for you two,” he said, when they were ready to pay attention to him again. He held up the envelopes and Rose moved to take them from him. She opened one and gaped.

“Luka Couffaine!” she whisper-yelled, falling onto the couch next to him. “You did not spend this kind of money on us.”

“I didn’t, actually,” Luka grinned as Juleka reached to take the card from Rose and read it over. “They were a gift from a client. We were talking, and she said she remembered how hard it was to be a new mom, and that you deserved a day out. As it happens, I agree with her.” 

“But the baby—” Rose began, but Luka leaned over and patted her knee. 

“I can watch her for a day. Come on, Rose, you’ve barely left the house for a month except to go to the grocery store. You guys need some time for yourselves. I promise I can handle her long enough for you guys to go get a pedicure and a massage or whatever.”

“It would be nice,” Rose mused. 

“Is this the same client we were talking about?” Juleka asked suspiciously.

“Yes,” Luka admitted.

“Uh-huh.” Juleka pondered that for a moment. “Well, I definitely approve of you dating someone who gives these kinds of gifts.”

Rose’s head whipped around toward him so fast he was surprised she didn’t topple over. “You’re dating someone? Luka! Tell me everything right now!”

Luka glared at Juleka. “You did that on purpose.”

“You should have known I would.”

Luka had to tell the whole story over again, and by the time Rose was done with her interrogation, he was ready to leave. He gave back the baby (who clearly needed a change at that point anyway), kissed both his sisters, and headed back to his own place.

When he got home, a quick search of the living room turned up Marinette’s folder between the couch and ottoman. 

“All right, universe,” he muttered under his breath, looking at the pastel sign from the gods in his hands. “You better not be fucking with me here.”

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | AO3

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Inspiration music for this chapter: 

There’s a billion versions of Beautiful Dreamer (written by Stephen Foster) but here are a few of my favorites:

My Love is Like a Red Red Rose was originally a poem that many artists have put to music, but below is the version I specifically used for inspiration. You can read the original poem by Robert Burns here.