#the way her voice softens like a whisper in this scene *chew on my shirt*

[ilikedetectives]

"We won't know if we don't ask."

[simpsiren]

mark lee x reader

description. Over the years of being a close friend of Mark Lee, I realised that my platonic love for him slowly began to develop into a feeling far beyond the love of a friend; it’s just simply what happens when you love someone.

genre. FLUFF! JUST FLUFFY FLUFF! your classic best friends to lovers!au

word count. 2.8k~

warnings. nonee

a/n. hellooo! adding onto this series, i really wanted to do this song by day6 because its just so sweet and romantic cjdndndn

“It was a hard day wasn’t it?

It hurts my heart just looking at you

There’s not much I can do for you except being next to you, I’m sorry.”

I laid down on the couch in pure silence, the noise coming from the clock above me ticked ever so softly as the seconds passed that turned to minutes, that turned to hours as I waited for Mark to come home.

He offered me to stay at his place for the weekend. Well actually I invited myself over since I have always done that and he doesn’t mind. He’d always welcome me. I came here in the afternoon, his keys hidden under the welcome rug outside his apartment. I didn’t go out. I knew he was about to come home from work, but I got worried when I looked at the time on my lockscreen. “One in the morning? Where are you markie...” I couldn’t help but mumble under my breath.

Mark wasn’t one to get home late. Except for when he’s drunk. But he wouldn’t be out drinking if he wasn’t with me or his other friends. He would’ve texted me before he drank as well. it was out of the ordinary for him to not be home yet, which was why I stood up from the couch and frantically started pacing back and forth from one end of the living room to the other, thinking if I should go out and search for him.

“Fucking hell.” I gave up, refusing to stay put. I grabbed whatever belongings I could, which was only my wallet and shoved it into my sweatpants. Before I could reach my hand out for the doorknob, the door swung open, revealing Mark.

I looked at his figure. He’s extremely tired. His posture was terrible with his slouched body, his eyes looked like they were about to close at any second, his face was droopy and it felt like he could collapse if he doesn’t make a run for the bed.

“Mark! Where were you?!” I half-shouted, moving myself to the side to make way for Mark to come in. He dragged himself, feet sliding against the floor with each step. I closed the door for him. I watched as he made his way to the closest most comfortable spot, which was the couch.

He dropped himself onto it, his face planted against the pillow. He didn’t even bother moving his body to get comfortable. He just laid there. Sighing, I walked up to him, bending down on my knees and tapping his shoulder lightly. “Mark... Are you drunk?” I whispered, seeing his body moving up and down as he breathed.

Mark groaned, turning his body so that his back was against the couch. He grabbed a random pillow and hugged it tightly, his face digging into it. My heart softened at the act, but it also made it ache as I noticed just how tired he looked. I began to wonder what happened at work, or anything that happened for him to end up like this. He’s so worn out physically that it just somehow pained me to look at him.

I didn’t want to ask. I didn’t want to bother him for an explanation. Instead, I brought my hand up warily to his hair, threading my fingers through his black locks and patting his head as he slowly fell asleep. His eyes were closed, but I couldn’t tell if he was just closing his eyes or was he actually asleep. I assumed the latter.

I stared at him, when I hoped that he finally slept so that he wouldn’t think that I’m weird for watching him sleep. His figure made him look small and fragile, innocent and sweet, which he was. He was everything that’s bright and soft and loving. And that’s what I liked about him.

I decided to sleep next to him on the floor, my head resting on his arm. I felt bad. I didn’t know what to do. How to be there for him, how to help lift off some burden or the things that’s made him end up in such a state. I’d do anything to make his life lighter. Isn’t that what a best friend should do? Sadly, I could only be here for him. Just like this, next to him. Despite thinking that it wouldn’t even help, I’d still do it, since I just liked having his presence next to me.

“You’re so beautiful when you smile

So whenever I see you’ve lost your smile

I want to give it back to you

Whatever it takes.”

The next morning, I was the first to wake up. Just like last night, I stared at his sleeping figure. It calmed my heart seeing out peacefully at sleep he was. I smiled softly. Slowly but surely, I lifted a finger up, tracing his features in the air, the urge of wanting to touch his face was there, but I couldn’t. I didn’t want to wake him.

I stood up and went to make a simple breakfast. Toasted bread with butter. I made two in case Mark wakes up so I wouldn’t have to make him wait while I make another. I went back to the living room, sitting down on the floor again and turning on the tv to watch Netflix. I lowered the volume, considerate of the sleeping Mark behind me.

As I munched on the toast and watched the show will full concentration, I was immediately alerted when I felt something weighted on my left shoulder. I turned lightly, seeing Mark’s head resting. His eyes were still closed. Shocked, I couldn’t help but flinched, which sent Mark’s eyes flying open and making contact with mine. “What?” He whispered.

“Good morning to you.” I breathed out, trying not to freak out at the fact that Mark’s face was so close to him as I faced forward instantly to continue watching the show. “Sorry about last night. Coming home late I mean.” Mark said, his morning voice tone shining through. Another thing I liked about Mark. He used to call me first thing in the morning sometimes, I liked hearing his voice. But to have it this close to my ear, I really had to stop my urge of screaming and jumping out of my skin.

“You had me worried sick.” I said, my words muffled as I chewed on my food. Mark exhaled, his breathe warming up a part of my skin that sent a shock all over my body. “Last night was rough, physically and mentally.”

“Work?” I felt his head lifting off my shoulder as I heard him moving his body so that he’s sitting normally. I turned around, waiting for his answer. I noticed how his eyes got gloomy, a looked I didn’t see on him for a long time. It was only for a split second. It disappeared as quickly as it appeared. “That. And other things you don’t have to worry about.” Mark smiled softly, reaching forward to grab the other toast and taking a bite.

I finished mine, I rested my head on the palm of my hand as I leaned against the table. “Don’t lie.” I simply stated. I knew that he knew that I knew him well. I knew when he’s feeling down, when something’s out of place. He could never lie to me. He’s terrible at it. With a defeated sigh, he brought his hand with the toast down to his thigh.

“It’s just... Rose. I saw her cheating on me.” Mark muttered, looking down and fiddling with the hem on his white shirt. Now this, this thing, Mark in front of me, I felt a piece of my heart falling off. It broke me, seeing Mark without his smile, not hearing his laughter. It’s like the happy switch on him turned off and now he’s under the weather. I know he’d probably be standing in the rain pathetically if he could.

“I told you she wasn’t trustable.” I replied, not wanting to have that i-told-you-so tone to it. I didn’t like Rose. She’s always bossing Mark around, she’d force him to agree with her though I knew very well that Mark was uncomfortable. I didn’t like how Mark simply followed her, thinking it was love when really, it was abuse and manipulation.

“Thanks. I got your advice stabbed in my back now.” Mark ran a hand through his messy hair, strands falling back down to his face, some covering his eyes.

On instinct, I brought a hand up to sweep away the strands off his eyes, making him look up at him. I held his face in my hand, feeling his cold skin against my warmth. “Let’s go out. We can forget about her. We can go wherever you want. How’s that sound?” I put on a smile, one that I hope will cheer him up somehow. He responded, a light chuckle escaping his lips.

“You’re seriously the only one that can make my day.”

Thank you, but why wouldn’t you consider me any more than a friend? Is what I would reply, but I kept silent. Like I said and promised, I’d so anything for Mark Lee, whether he sees it as a gesture of a friend, or perhaps a potential lover. I don’t care what he thinks of me. I just want him to be happy, even if it meant sacrificing my unsaid feelings for him.

“I want to be hurt rather than letting you be hurt

I don’t want you to get hurt ever again.”

We came back home from running around the whole city. Going to parks, shopping malls for window shopping, did a photoshoot, and ended the way on the beach, walking at the shoreline as the sun sets. We got home at night, Mark stretched his arm over his head. “Today was so fun!” He shouted as he placed the take out that we got from the beach onto the kitchen counter. His giggles echoed as he made his way to the living room, which of course made me smile to myself like a dummy.

I chuckled, the day being recalled in my mind like scenes from a movie tape. It felt like any other day to be honest. But I guess it felt more special and serene since we didn’t experience such a day in a long time due to our separate lives interfering with our time together.

“I’m glad that you’re back to normal.” I said, unpacking the take out and throwing the plastic bags. I brought it to the living room where Mark sat down. I took the space next to him, not bothering to leave a gap between us.

Mark leaned forward to grab the coke can, opening it to take a sip and exhaling after. “I wouldn’t say she’s completely off my mind. But your plan definitely made me feel a whole lot better.” Mark suddenly laid his head on my shoulder, his soft hair brushing my skin. I shivered at the touch.

“All I can say is don’t let yourself fall in love with someone like her again. I don’t want you to end up like last night. I would take your spot if I could, so you wouldn’t suffer. But don’t be stupid.” I gave a firm advice. Like a child heeding his mother’s words, he nodded agreeably. “Got it, maam.”

“But who will ever treat me like you?”

“What do you mean?”

“They say I should find someone like my best friend. But no one does it like you do.”

I didn’t give a reply. His sentence resonated in my head. No one does it like me, Mark claimed. So why wouldn’t he even look at me as a woman?

“Loving someone

More than I can take

It’s so strange

When you love someone.”

Mark and I ended up falling asleep on the couch. I jolted awake suddenly. I searched for my phone which was hidden under a pillow, looking at the time and realising it was two in the morning. I looked over to Mark, who again was peacefully sleeping on my shoulder. All I could see was his fluffy hair. I sighed quietly as I examined him.

The more I look at him, the more I fell in love. I didn’t even have to see his face for the memories of us to come crashing at me like big waves against my heart. Though I never want to admit, and though I never thought that I even could feel this way, I whispered softly. “I think I’m in love with you, Mark Lee.”

“I want to be helpful even just a little bit

I want to be your resting place

If you think of me on a busy day

I’ll do my best to comfort you.”

The next morning, I woke up. Mark was gone. And I knew he went for work since I don’t work of Mondays like he does. I went along with my day, Mark’s laptop on my lap as I looked through my work emails and got some work done for the day.

Late afternoon, I got bored. Absentmindedly, my feet took me to Mark’s room. The first thing that caught my eye was his guitar. It leaned against the bed. I didn’t know why, but I had the sudden urge to take it to the living room. I walked up and grabbed it, forgetting the weight of it from not holding it for a long time now (though it wasn’t even that heavy).

I sat back down on the living room couch. I propped the guitar on my lap, one hand placed on the top part of the guitar while my other hovered over the strings. I forgot how to play to the guitar. Mark used to teach me. It was one of the few ways I got Mark to sit so close to me and to just have that bit his touch that I absolutely adored.

I pulled on one string, the sound ringing through my ears. I strummed on the guitar, not exactly caring about playing an actual song. My mind took me back to when Mark taught me how to play. It’s like I could feel his fingers on mine as he would scold, laugh and giggle with everything I do to the guitar. He would play me songs, he even sang. I could fall asleep every time I heard him play. His grey hoodie, thin glasses, messy black hair. The transparency of him; a feature I’ll always indulge myself with.

It was now seven. And at around seven thirty, the door opened. Mark walked in with his black suit and tie, his hair pushed back with hair gel though now it looked slightly messy. “How was work?” I asked, adverting my focus from the guitar and to him.

Mark plopped onto the couch next to me. “Brain deteriorating. Mentally and physically draining. Why did I even get this job?” Mark groaned and complained, running a hand down his face. I chuckled and punched his arm lightly. “You told me it’s because of the money.”

“Yeah well I’m starting to regret that I used to think money is everything.”

Mark snaked his around me, pulling me into his embrace. I was completely shocked and confused as to why he’s suddenly being so clingy. I liked it yes, but I never thought he’d grow attached to me in this manner. It made my heart race and my face heating up.

“Why are you-”

“Just... Let me hug you for awhile, please. You just make me feel at peace that’s all.” Mark whispered, digging his head into the crook of my neck as the two of us just sat there in silence, admiring each other’s presence.

“Mind playing something?” Mark asked. I chuckled lightly, giving a gentle smile. “I play like shit.”

“It’s fine.”

Comfortable silence filled the room for a moment. I wasn’t sure how to feel. I could already feel my cheeks burning and probably blushing a light pink. I gulped.

“Since when were you like this?” I questioned curiously. Mark looked up at me, his face looking as cute and indulging as ever. “Since I liked you?” He replied in a cheeky manner. My eyes widened. “Wait what-”

“Shush. I wanna sleep.” Mark pulled me closer to him. I looked down and saw that he’s closing his eyes with a light smile on his face. I couldn’t believe it. Mark likes me after all this time...? “Play me something to sleep.”

“Why?”

“I like you, _____.”

I didn’t reply, wanting that to be the last thing I heard from Mark before he changed his mind. Slowly, I strummed on the guitar, trying my hardest to make it sound decent. Mark giggled softly and gave up, his hands traced from my arms and to my hands, his head still on my shoulder with his eyes closed. He guided my fingers with each strum ever so carefully.

“I like you.”

[izlaria]

Someone you like (part 3)

This is the third chapter of my “Someone you like” inspired fic. It’s also available on AO3 in case you prefer that platform. Please hit me up to talk about Plance!

Summary: Lance finds a better friend in Pidge than he could have antecipated.

Also, Pidge pining hour.

17 and 15 years old

“I can’t believe we have a cow.” Lance stared in awe at the animal. It looked completely out-of-place in the middle of the highly technological castle-ship. “Where did that dude even get her from?” he exclaimed, waving an arm at it. Lance gasped, lowering his voice to a whisper, “Do you think she’s… a clone?”

Kaltenecker kept on chewing, indifferent to Lance’s fussy behavior.

“Most likely,” Pidge responded. She was looking down at a tablet that contained results from the scan they’d conducted on Kaltenecker. “She is carbon-based, which isn’t such a rarity out here, but is always good to know. The anatomy also checks out with normal cow biology. The only change I could find is that her diet is more adapted to what’s available in this quadrant.”

Lance scratched the top of his head. “Does that mean she can’t eat Earth food?”

“She probably can…” Pidge tapped the edge of the tablet in a considering manner. “We eat alien food and nothing has happened yet.”

“So we’re winging it? That doesn’t sound very scientific.” He didn’t like the idea of putting their cow in danger. “Can’t you figure something out for her to eat?”

“I’m not a biochemist, Lance.” Pidge took her eyes off Kaltenecker to glare at him. “Nor a geneticist. That’s more Coran’s area of expertise.”

“Easy!” Lance held up his hands. “We can talk to him, then. I was just asking a question…”

Pidge huffed out a breath, then let her shoulders drop. “I don’t know how you’re not annoyed right now. We spent the entire afternoon in a fountain to get a freaking video game, only to realize we have no way to turn it on!”

“I actually had fun.” Lance shrugged. He didn’t really see what bothered her so much. Sure, he wanted to play Killbot Phantasm, but even the fact that they’d found the game out in the universe was enough for him. “It felt like the sort of crazy I used to get to back home.”

She fidgeted with the tablet in her hands. “Going to the mall and causing a scene?”

Lance eyed Pidge curiously. Her brow was furrowed, but she looked more lost than irritated. “Sure,” he acquiesced. “This was hardly my first time fishing out coins from a fountain.”

“It was for me,” Pidge interrupted brusquely. “I had never done that before.”

He cocked an eyebrow at her. “Really? You’re one of the biggest troublemakers I’ve met. I’m pretty sure you’re at least guilty of fraud after lying about your identity to get into the Garrison.”

For some reason, this seemed to startle her. It was almost ludicrous to think that Pidge had gone undercover without realizing the legal implications of her actions. It would be just like her, too, to get so caught up in the big picture that she simply bulldozed through every other detail.

“That was different, though.” She was pouting now, her cheeks comedically puffed out. “I was more of a homebody when younger.” Her gaze was lowered to her hands, distant. “I don’t have as many stories to tell as you and Hunk.”

“I seriously doubt that.” Lance scoffed. “Aren’t you always talking about the crazy experiments you and Matt did? I bet he will have a bunch of embarrassing shit about you that you never tell us. I can’t wait to get my hands on all that sweet, sweet blackmail!”

Lance wrung his hands menacingly, but when he looked down at Pidge the expression on her face caught him off guard. He expected her to be exasperated or at least displeased, so the tenderness in her eyes was unforeseen.

He’d been talking about her brother as if they would meet soon, Lance realized. Pidge mentioned him often, but not in detail, not in any capacity that didn’t serve to remind everyone of her mission to find her family. He guessed it felt too much like an open wound, like when Lance tried to talk about Marco or Rachel.

But maybe it did them some good, too.

“Besides, even if we never get to play Killbot Phantasm, we still did plenty today.” Lance began to count on his hand. “We stole money from a fountain so we could buy a vintage video game. We got a cow from a space mall. We were chased by an alien security guard who thought we were pirates! I couldn’t make this up if I tried!”

When he laughed, Pidge joined in. She tried to suppress it, but the air escaped through her nose and her lips quirked up in undeniable amusement. It always felt like a victory to make her laugh. Pidge didn’t let herself get distracted often.

“I don’t know,” she quipped, looking more relaxed. “You have the most convoluted stories of anyone I know.”

Although Pidge said it as if it was a bad thing, Lance could see the playfulness in the twist of her mouth. This was nice, too, because a year earlier he would have seen only the harshness in his teammate. On an impulse, he leaned down to hug her.

“W – What?!” Pidge thrashed against his arms. “Lance, let me go!”

“No can do, Pidgey.” He held on. Lance had crossed his arms behind her head, keeping her tight against his chest. “You can’t escape this friendship.”

“Yes, I can, you nitwit!” Pidge’s voice was muffled by his shirt and Lance simply pretended not to hear her. “You’re suffocating me!”

“We have Kaltenecker now, we’re her parents!” he stated happily, despite the sting of Pidge pinching his sides. “Stop, you don’t want her to see us fighting.”

Pidge let her arms fall, looking up at Lance. Her face was red and her hair stuck out from where he’d accidentally run his hands through it. “You’re ridiculous.”

There was a well-placed moo from Kaltenecker, as if the cow agreed.

Lance grinned and finally gave up his grip on her, taking a step back. Pidge immediately punched him in the stomach in retaliation.

“Ow!” he complained, though it was clear she hadn’t put any real force behind it. “We were having a moment!”

Pidge turned up her nose, but her complexion only grew more flustered. “Then you can forget all about it, like you did with Keith.”

“Fine, you win.” Lance crossed his arms, looking smugly down at her. “I did make you blush, though. I might be rusty, but old Lance still has an effect on the ladies!”

“Ugh!” Pidge moved so quickly that Lance had to hide behind Kaltenecker in order to evade her hits. When they stopped running, she kept her tablet at hand, brandishing it as if it was her bayard. “Never say that to me again!”

He stuck his tongue out at her, then had to duck when Pidge aimed the tablet at his head once more. “Jeez, you know I’m kidding!”

“Yeah.” Something in her voice made Lance shoot back up. She was staring right at him, looking more serious than he’d expected. “I know.”

Before he could ask what was wrong, Pidge walked away from where he stood and towards a panel in the back of the room. She deposited her tablet on one side, then started clicking away at a few keys.

“Coran mentioned we could reprogram the room to look like a field on Earth,” she explained once Lance had made his way over. “We could maybe get some vegetation from a planet in this quadrant and create an area for her to graze.”

“Yeah, that would be cool.” He felt almost dizzy from the ups and downs of Pidge’s humor. The coldness that surrounded her now made Lance want to apologize, but it also annoyed him. He thought they were having a good time earlier. “Introducing Kaltenecker to Earth food isn’t really the priority, huh?”

Pidge nodded, avoiding his eyes.

Despite the awkwardness, Lance didn’t want to leave. The idea of letting Pidge stay mad at him left a bitter taste in his mouth, especially after the day they’d had. She could be incessantly frustrating, but she had also grown on him.

Like a weed. A short, bad-tempered weed.

He watched in silence as she worked the panel. Her concentration was admirable, even when she used it as a way to push Lance away. It reminded him of their time in the Garrison, when it felt like every step he took in their friendship was met with two steps back from Pidge.

With the privilege of hindsight, Lance could guess how tiring the disguise must have been for her. Their studies had never been easy and Pidge had perfected her mediocrity like an art. Knowing her true genius now, Lance imagined she’d actually known it all but had chosen to keep herself under the radar.

“Are you just going to stand there?” Her tone struck a chord with him, bringing forth a familiarity that he hadn’t felt since Earth.

Lance put his hands on his hips, raising an eyebrow at her. “I’m just waiting for you, Pidgeon.”

She turned back to the panel, then took a deep breath, as if calming herself.

“I have a lot to do here,” she said in warning. After a moment, her expression softened. “Why don’t you take the game up to your room? I’ll grab Hunk on my way there and we can try to adapt everything to the castle’s power source.”

Lance could recognize her words for the peace offering that they were. He aimed finger guns at her, earning himself a snicker.

“Don’t take too long or I’ll fall asleep!” he called out as he walked backwards, towards the exit.

“I’ll get Kaltenecker to lick your hair, if you do!” she replied, attention already back to the control panel.

Lance laughed, but he knew that was no empty threat.

--

He didn’t often spend his nights roaming the hallways of the castle. Lance was a big believer on the benefits of good sleep and an established routine. It helped him maintain his complexion blemish-free and it contributed to keeping him sane when his mind felt scrambled beyond repair.

There were times, however, when not even spa days and special hair masks could calm his thoughts, and then he was stuck like this, struggling to fall asleep.

He buried deeper into his jacket. It wasn’t his normal one, but a big, fleece-y thing that Hunk and Pidge had gotten for him in their last trip to the space mall. Lance loved it fiercely. The castle cooled during the night-cycle to ensure the machines didn’t overheat and Lance always suffered for it.

A blinking light on the doors to his right caught Lance’s attention. It signaled movement in the hangar, just one of many fail-safes devised by Coran and Pidge to ensure no one was trying to mess with the lions. The light wasn’t all that worrying on its own; it was just a way to know what rooms were currently in use.

Lance was too tired to think through his actions. He moved into the hangar, not even questioning who might be in there. He wanted to see Blue. Or Red. Or anyone, really.

He rubbed at his eyes, collecting the tears that threatened to spill down his cheeks.

Sure enough, there was Pidge, curled around a set of tools and a big, wiry mess of parts. She had probably been propped up against the processing columns but ended up sliding down in her sleep.

The image filled Lance with so much affection that he found himself smiling. It was unusual to see their youngest member without her defenses put up. She was only second to Keith in her reserve, something that had initially displeased Lance about the two.

Pidge did have the habit of falling asleep while she worked, but Shiro and Hunk were the ones charged with checking on her. Lance thought she looked strangely cute like this, with her mouth a little open and her glasses askew. He’d forgotten how young she truly was, because of how smart and assertive Pidge could be. She didn’t want to be treated like a child and the whole team could respect her strength and maturity.

Even before they’d ended up light-years from Earth, Pidge had already carried more on her shoulders than anyone Lance had ever met. Despite knowing it was a vain hope, Lance wished he hadn’t made things harder for her back in the Garrison.

He crouched down and carefully pulled her glasses free. Strands of hair stuck to her cheeks and forehead, but without the too-big frames Lance could see her face more clearly.

Pidge already looked older than she had when they were students. After so many wormhole jumps, it was difficult to determine how long had passed since their discovery of the Blue Lion, but the passage of time made itself known in other ways.

She was pretty, but that didn’t surprise Lance. Pidge’s no-nonsense ways and sharp eyes had always been striking, even when he only pointed out these aspects of her as a joke.

Lance took off his jacket and balled it up, trying to slip it behind her head. It wouldn’t be comfortable, but it was an improvement to her current position.

“Lance?” Her eyes had fluttered open. From this close, he could see the fatigue that clouded them.

“Hey, Pidgey-Pidge,” he called out in a whisper.

“Hey, loverboy.” She giggled, lids opening and closing tiredly.

The nickname shot another wave of emotion through him. For some reason, Lance felt his eyes burn again.

“We should get you to bed,” he tried to say, though his voice sounded rougher than he intended.

Pidge didn’t immediately notice. She nodded a few times and sat up, stretching her arms over her head. She frowned at the pieces of tech still scattered around them, then focused her eyes back on him.

“Lance,” she sounded much more awake now, “why are you here?”

“Oh, you know,” he stalled. “Sometimes, in the middle of the night, a guy just needs to grab some food goo.” He flexed his now exposed arms. “I’m a growing boy, Pidge.”

Pidge raised a brow, looking supremely unimpressed. “Don’t lie to me.”

Lance winced a little at the terse tone she’d adopted. Even in her half-awake state, Pidge was still able to see through his bullshit.

“The kitchen is nowhere near the hangar,” she continued when he didn’t reply. Her voice was soft in a way Lance had never heard from Pidge. “And your eyes look red.”

He shifted his head to the side to escape her scrutiny. Lance half-expected Pidge to get angry at his stubbornness, so he couldn’t help the small, shocked sob that escaped him when her hand touched his chin, slowly lifting his gaze.

The worry in her face quickly changed into something understanding, an almost desperate ache that must have reflected his own expression. Without another word, Lance buried into her embrace, curved so that his forehead rested on Pidge’s shoulder.

“I c-can’t stop thinking about them,” he confessed amid his sobs. “What – What if they think I’m dead?”

Pidge murmured an “I know” into his hair. Despite their size difference, she wrapped herself around Lance so completely that he felt guarded by her arms.

“Come on,” she said once his whimpers had quieted down. “Your room is the closest.”

Lance let her move away. His knees hurt from the position he’d assumed on the floor and, now that he no longer had Pidge there, the cold of the hangar raised goosebumps across his arms.

“Put this back on.” Pidge draped the fleece jacket over his shoulders. Her hands lingered there for a moment, drawing a line in the fabric. “It’s a better coat than it could ever be a pillow.”

It wasn’t much of a joke, but Lance smiled at her. Crying made him exhausted, but not enough to ignore Pidge’s efforts to cheer him up. He stood up.

“Don’t knock it ‘til you’ve tried it.”

They made their way to his room in silence. Pidge had to stop at the hangar doors to put in the security measures, but no more words were exchanged. Lance was just glad to have company.

They paused in front of his dorm. “Will you come in?”

Pidge studied him carefully. Lance didn’t think she could see much in the dark of the hallway, but the truth was that she’d already caught him in a breakdown, there was nothing else to hide.

“Do you want to be alone?” she finally vocalized her concern. Lance shook his head, feeling his chest constrict at the possibility that she might leave. “Then I’ll come in.”

He went straight to his bed and laid down. Pidge stood at the entrance, letting the door slide closed behind her. The awkwardness was palpable and Lance couldn’t blame her for it; Pidge was not the best at social cues.

“At least sit down with me. I promise I won’t start bawling again.” He didn’t mean to sound depreciative, but his self-consciousness must have shown, because Pidge narrowed her eyes at him.

“I don’t care if you cry, you doofus.” She marched up to the bed and sat down near the headboard. “Put your head in my lap.”

Her demanding tone didn’t fit in with the gentleness of her actions. Lance was amused by the incongruity. Pidge was rough around the edges and her earlier show off affection now made her bristle, almost as if she was afraid to reveal too much to him. Lance could understand the urge to put up a front, but he was too exhausted to be embarrassed.

He rolled on his side, fitting his shoulder under her thigh.

“My mom used to do this when I was upset.” Pidge ran a hand through his hair, pulling lightly at the knots until they were undone. “The rhythm of it always soothed me. That and her, really. Mom had – I mean, she has a calming influence.”

Lance didn’t comment on her slip up. The feeling of nails scraping against his scalp was pleasing. The personal closeness was something that they also did in his family and he had missed it. He was a naturally affectionate person and the team didn’t seem to appreciate his expansiveness all that much.

“I used to do this for Veronica and Rachel,” he breathed out. “Ronie is older and she would force me to braid their hair when I was younger. I complained about it non-stop, but now I miss it.”

Pidge traced his hairline, then down to his ear, neck, collarbone. She seemed absent-minded as she did it, mind caught somewhere else.

“Matt was the one who would call me Pidge. I used to hate that nickname. After he disappeared, it seemed only right to assume it as my new name. For him.”

Lance shifted a little, so that he could look up at her. “Your real name isn’t Pidge?”

This made her stop for a moment and look down at him in exasperation. Lance suppressed the urge to laugh, but his lips still twisted into a smile, despite his effort.

Pidge flicked him on the forehead.

“I thought you were being serious!” It was funny to see her like this. Pidge usually responded to him with either blankness or sarcasm, so it was satisfying to garner an actual reaction.

“I could have been!” Lance brought a hand up to rub his stinging forehead. “You do realize you never told Hunk and I your real name?”

“It’s Katie,” she said without preamble. The only sign of her unease was that, when Lance tried to sneak another look at her face, Pidge’s fingers held his head in place, before resuming movement in his hair.

“It’s nice to meet you, Katie.” He let out a soft snicker, which Pidge mirrored.

“Nice to meet you, Lance.”

Lance fell silent, letting her touch lull him into a torpor. The point of contact gave him something to concentrate outside of his thoughts of Earth, until the sensation and Pidge were all he could focus on.

“Did you fall asleep?” she asked after some time.

“No.” Lance slowly rose up from her lap. “I don’t know if I will be able to sleep tonight.”

Pidge frowned, looking down at her hands as Lance repositioned himself to sit at her side.

“You and I are more similar than I ever thought, I guess.”

“What, you also go crying around the castle at strange hours, hoping no one else will see?” She raised a brow at him in response. It wasn’t that much of a surprise, really. Lance had known how broken up she felt about her father and brother’s disappearance. “We will find them, Pidge. I won’t rest until we do.”

The emotion in her eyes shifted. He couldn’t really tell what Pidge was feeling, but the look on her face was both sad and warm, grateful even. Lance tried to think of a time when he or any of the others had tried to support her in her search. There might have been something said when she’d first revealed her identity, but nothing stood out since.

His chest tightened with the realization.

It was possible that Hunk or Allura had spoken to Pidge privately about it, and Lance would put good money on the odds that Shiro had comforted her more than once, but that was it. Keith was quiet and broody, too dedicated to their mission to consider what the rest of the team went through. And Lance…

Lance had been too self-involved to notice. He had wallowed in his own misfortune and it had blinded him to the fact that at least his family was safe in Cuba. Pidge’s father and brother were lost in the middle of an intergalactic war, taken prisoners. Her mother thought she was missing.

He didn’t feel like he deserved Pidge’s gratitude.

“Can you tell me something funny?” she asked out of the blue. “I don’t think talking about our families is gonna help either of us sleep tonight.”

Lance let out a shaky exhale. “You’re right. I’m all cried out.” He poked at the skin under his eyes. It felt sensitive and swollen. “All that investigating for good eye masks and the work was all for nothing!” He put his palm over his eyes, playfully turning his head to the side. “Don’t look at me! I’m a shadow of my former self!”

“You’re the resident beauty guru, I’m sure you’ll figure something out.” Pidge rolled her eyes at his theatrics. She pulled Lance’s hand away from his face. “And you owe me a story.”

“Hey, how do I owe you anything?” He pouted at her. “I just saved you from getting a crick on your neck!”

She pulled more harshly at his hand, making Lance yelp. “You woke me up and I even gave you a head massage!”

It was his turn to tug at her arm, but his smile betrayed that Lance was having fun. “Fine, but then we’re even!”

Pidge finally let go of him, looking smug. He closed his hand and pointed at her face in an act of mock aggravation.

“Is it okay if I lie down?” She looked around the room, as if searching for a hidden futon where she could stretch out.

“Sure, let me just…” He scooted down and to the side. Pidge maneuvered into the space he had created, stuck between him and the wall. “I don’t think these beds were made to be shared.” He laughed.

The position wasn’t the worst they could be in. Pidge was small enough that, with her back pressed to the wall, Lance had enough space in the mattress that he wouldn’t fall over.

“This feels like a sleepover.” Her face scrunched up at the words. He couldn’t tell if she was embarrassed or just amused by the idea. “I never had one of those before.”

“Never?” he marveled.

“No need to look that surprised,” Pidge huffed. “I just didn’t have a lot of friends growing up. Not anyone close, at least.”

“Just Matt,” Lance blurted out without thinking. A shadow crossed Pidge’s eyes, but she didn’t seem upset.

“Yeah… You would like him. Matt can be as much of a goofball as you are.” She nuzzled quietly into the pillow. The lights had dimmed automatically when they laid down, so Lance couldn’t tell if Pidge was blushing or not. “It helps, you know? Having you here.”

Pidge refused to catch his eyes as she said this, which Lance understood. Being vulnerable could be scary, even when around your best friends. Still, he felt pride well up in him, glad that he had done something right towards her.

“You wanted a funny story, right?” he asked softly, the words only loud enough to be heard. Pidge’s gaze snapped to his, obviously relieved. “How about this: My first love was this little girl I met when I was fourteen. I never even knew her name.”

“That’s not funny, not really.” Pidge’s brows took a quizzical air. “How do you know it was love, then?”

“I just know. When I think about her, about that day… It felt like fate.” He saw the cynicism on her face before Pidge could even say anything. “I swear! I met her and everything changed. I don’t know if I would have met Hunk or got into the Garrison or even made it here without her.”

Pidge sighed against the pillow. “Honestly, that sounds like a lot of pressure to put on a first love.”

Lance watched as she drew patterns into the sheets between them. She wasn’t trying to be mean, he could tell.

“She doesn’t know, obviously. I didn’t even like her straight away. It’s just –” he paused, thinking it through. “It’s just funny, how much of a difference one person can make. When she talked to me, I was feeling sorry for myself. She cheered me up.”

That same day, he had met Hunk, who had later confessed that he’d only approached Lance because he’d appeared to be in a good humor. Without Hunk, his best friend, Lance might not have tried out for the Garrison. And, without the Garrison, he wouldn’t have been in Arizona to find the Blue Lion.

“Is she why you are so obsessed with fate and such?” Pidge teased. She was yawning every few seconds, but there was a smile on her face.

“You shouldn’t knock fate down.” Lance grinned, trying to bat her hand away from the sheets. They had bunched up a bit due to her movements. “It got us into space and closer to your family.”

Pidge made a face at him, then shrugged. They’d had this conversation before, about what had led the three out into Garrison grounds that night. Pidge argued that it was bound to happen, with how often she went out to search the radio frequencies, but even that fell back into Lance’s claim that they were all destined to become the new paladins of Voltron.

“I just think that love is about commitment,” she murmured, eyes already closed. “It’s about choosing one person and then falling in love with him, even when he’s obnoxious, even when he’s…” She trailed off, having fallen asleep.

Lance chuckled at her little speech. It was nice to think that someone would eventually choose to love him, forever. He felt comforted not only by the idea, but by Pidge's slow breathing, the heat of her hand so close to his chest. His own lids felt heavier and heavier. Lance closed his eyes.

[kaiparker-avengerssmut]

CURSED: CHAPTER FOURTEEN

“Accusing, Denying”

Kai Parker x OC!Mack Grace

Series synopsis: "We're both cursed, in a way."

We all know the story of Kai Parker, but he once lived in a very different life. Do you ever wonder what that life looked like?

Chapter summary: a new person arrives, Kai gets jealous

Warnings: swearing, mentions of death

Masterlist | series Masterlist

School was starting again, and Mack was loosing her shit. It was the first time that the reality of Ben's death had truly dawned on her.

But not in the way you'd expect - she wasn't guilty, nor was she upset. No, she was anxious and terrified about people finding out what she had done. They would notice, after all - who doesn't show up for the first day of school when every student either wants to be them or fears them? There's no logical reason as to why Ben wouldn't be there, Mack thought.

Except he's dead, she thought.

Mack took a deep breath, composing herself as she pushed open the front door, shouting a goodbye to her dad before letting the door slam shut behind her. The rumble of Kai's car engine echoed in the chilly January morning air, Mack's breath forming a little cloud before her at how cold it really was. She reached the black Jeep, wrapping her fingers around the handle and pulling the door open.

"Nice car - I see you've really done a lot to it over the Chris holidays!" Mack drawled and Kai smirked.

"Thank you for noticing! I went to this new place - I think it's called something like 'my girlfriend is a raging bitch who turns into a werewolf' or something like that." Kai smiled brightly back, sarcasm dripping from their words like syrup. Mack shook her head with a little smile, rolling her eyes as she plugged her seatbelt and dumped her bag on the floor by her feet.

"Whatever." She laughed, smiling happily against Kai's lips as he pulled her in for a languid kiss.

"Good morning." He mumbled against her lips as he pulled back, voice still slightly rasping and making a small shiver rattle its way down her spine and straight there.

"Morning." She murmured back, barely aware of Kai's amused smirk as he figured out what happened.

"I'm warning you now, Malachai Parker - this month will be one hell of a ride." Mack mused.

"And why is that, Princess?" Kai asked with a sickly sweet grin.

"I thought I told you no to call me princess." Mack deadpanned and Kai smirked.

"And I thought I told you not to call me Malachai." He shot back and Mack huffed. "So why is this month going to be one 'hell of a ride'?" Kai asked again and Mack smirked at him this time, causing one of Kai's brows to shoot up.

"I was checking dates, and it turns out - the full moon isn't the only cycle you'll have to worry about this month." Mack grinned and Kai's eyes widened, a hollow groan emitting from his plump lips.

"They're happening at the same time?" His eyes bugged and Mack nodded, smugness plastered on her face.

"Yep." She countered, popping the 'p'.

"Fucking cycles." Kai muttered under his breath, begging to pull out of Mack's drive way and making her laugh. Mack's head snapped up at the sound of rustling and she instantly rolled her eyes.

"Pork rinds? Really? It's fucking 8am!" She exclaimed as Kai popped one into his mouth, chewing nonchalantly threw a smile. "God, you are unbelievable sometimes." Mack scoffed, leaning back into her seat and listening to Kai crunching the rest of the drive to school.

...

Mack and Kai wandered to their lockers once they reached the school, Kai leant against his while Mack rummaged through hers - clearly trying to find something.

"What have you lost?" Kai asked, trying to hide his amusement as Mack nearly threw some book on the floor in frustration. She groaned, slamming her locker door shut and looking at Kai.

"My sketches! The book filled with everything I was going to use to get a scholarship!" She exclaimed, rubbing her forehead with stress. Kai stood up at this, now concerned because he knew how much she cared about going to college.

"Well maybe you took them home?" He suggested and she shook her head.

"No, I definitely left them here." She mumbled, now looking around them to see if someone had stolen the book or something. She froze when a whisper reached her ears though.

"Have you seen Ben? He hasn't contacted me since before Christmas." Someone Mack recognised to be one of Ben's friends asked another guy worriedly.

"Don't worry yourself, man. He's probably black out drunk somewhere or hanging out with some chick. Chill." The other guy responded, grabbing a book out his locker before letting it swing shut, and Mack let out a heavy sight of relic as the walked off. Then her eyes landed on something and she seethed.

Mack stormed over to the clearly obnoxious boy, fists clenched and face red as she walked over to him.

The guy was tall - nearly taller than Kai - with wisps of curly blonde hair fluttering over his forehead and the rest piled messily on top of his head like a mop of curly wool. His eyes were dark, so dark the nearly looked black (a stark contrast to Kai). But even from where she was Mack could see he was muscly, with thick arms and most likely a toned stomach, but for now he was clad in baggy jeans, a lose fitting t-shirt and a faded blue denim jacket - with pulled out and distressed seems. Overall he was the opposite of Kai, who had darker, straight hair; deep steel-blue eyes, and was quite scrawny and slim (that didn't mean he wasn't still a beast in bed). Kai also opted for leather jackets, much darker jeans, often black, not blue, and band t-shirts - AC/DC, Nirvana etc.

When she reached him Mack slammed her hand into the lock beside him, the metal door slamming shut and catching the distracted boy's attention.

"Hey, you have something mine." Mack demanded bluntly, eyes narrowed at the large sketch book clutched in his left hand. The guy looked down - following her gaze - and held the book up.

"Oh, this? I didn't know it belonged to anyone. It was only ok the floor when I found it." The guy shrugged, before leaning in. "But I'm sure we could arrange something so you could get it back." He said, almost seductively, but Mack merely snorted.

"That's won't be necessary. You're going to give me my book back and I'm going to go back over there to my boyfriend, while you piss off and find another girl to bother." Mack said with a sweet smile, pointing behind her to Kai who was still stood at their lockers, jealousy in his eyes as he watched the whole thing from afar.

"I think you should give me a kiss first, after all, I did pick up your book, rather than let it be trampled on." The guy smirked, leaning down again so that his lips her beside Mack's ear and his eyes were on Kai. "And if you're lucky maybe I'll have you screaming later." He whipped and Mack pulled back, a shiver going through her.

"Give it back." She demanded, but he held it above her head.

"Not until you give me a kiss, sweetheart." The guy chided and Mack sighed a frustrated groan.  She leant up quickly on her toes, pecking the guy's lips so quickly before grabbing her book from his hand and instantly grimacing, wiping her lips and turning back to face Kai.

What she saw scared her, his nostrils flared and face red as he watched the scene before him.

"I think your boyfriend's a little jealous." The guy mused in Mack's ear, head at the side of hers as they both watched Kai slam his locker shut.

"Come with me." Mack demanded, grabbing the guy's bicep and dragging him along with her.

Mack pulled the boy into the first empty room she found, hand clasping his wrist tightly as she pushed past the tables and chairs before forcing him to sit.

"What the hell was that?" She seethed, a dangerous glint running her eyes. The boy laughed, smirking nonchalantly.

"What? I was saving you! That punk doesn't deserve an ounce of your respect, damn it!" The guy defended, raising his hands in surrender when Mack tried to hit him.

"Save me? Of for God's sake! I don't need saving, Kai isn't going to hurt me!" Mack was doing everything in her power not to rip the boy's head off.

"That's not the was Kim explained it!" He exclaimed and Mack groaned.

"So Kim sent you?" Mack seethed and the boy nodded. "Who are you? What's your name?" Mack demanded and he chuckled.

"Feisty one, you are." He mused and Mack's gaze darkened.

"What's. Your. Name?" She spat through gritted teeth.

"Shawn." He said and Mack nodded.

"Well, Shawn, you can tell my sister that I don't need watching-"

"So that you can kill another of her boyfriends? I don't think you." Shawn said and Mack rolled her eyes.

"I didnt kill anyone!"

"You and I both know that's a lie." Shawn whispered, now stood up and caging Mack against the desk, his breath fanning over her cheeks as he spoke.

"Kenz?" Kai's voice grabbed her attention and Mack's head snapped up, looking at Kai her eyes soften.

"Kai!" He slowly made his way into the room and Shawn snooped off, slipping past Kai.

"I'll leave you two alone then." He commented before Kai help up a hand.

"You're not going anywhere." Kai's eyes were burning, he looked like the epitome of rage. "And you." Kai said pointedly, looking straight into Mack's eyes, "better explain who the fuck that is, right now." He seethed, pointing at Shawn but not taking his eyes off of Mack and she glanced never pushy between them.

"He's um, a friend of Kim's..." Mack stuttered and Kai scoffed.

"Yeah, right. Who is he?!" Kai demanded, slamming his hand on the desk next to Mack and making her jump.

"No one!" She yelled and Kai's nostrils flared, his face red.

"Oh really." He replied bluntly and Mack looked at him in shock.

"Yes really! If you have a problem, then tell me!" She dared and kai stared her down, his gaze flitting to Shawn momentarily.

"I'd better not keep you, your boyfriend's waiting." Kai spat, a dark glare overcoming him as he glanced at Shawn, who was loitering awkwardly in the door way, not really sure what to do. Mack followed his gaze for scoffing.

"He's not my boyfriend! I hate him!" Mack claimed and Kai looked away, rolling his eyes.

"Whatever." Kai dismissed.

"Kai!" Mack exclaimed.

"What?" He shot back dryly.

"Stop!" She shouted as he began to walk towards the door, ready to shoulder past Shawn.

"Why?" He bit back, pausing but not turning to face her.

"Because I love you, you idiot!" Mack's words made Kai's jaw clench, his eyes cloud with anger as he looked from Shawn and back to Mack again.

"Maybe you should've thought of that before you got yourself a little lap-dog, huh?" Kai sneered before pushing past Shawn and put into the throws of students busily shuffling through the crowed halls, disappearing into the mass of people.

Mack set her jaw, tears staining her eyes and she looked over a Shawn. A dark look was in her eyes as she walked past him, too.

"Mack, wait!" He called after her but the girl was already gone.

...

Mack's fingers drummed against the tabled restlessly, head turned away from Kai who sat beside her. He would huff every thirty seconds, shorting her a dirty glance before looking away again.

The door opening made Mack sit up straight in her chair, as nothing interesting ever happened in this class. Normally her and Kai would entertain each other but as the boy refused to speak to Mack, it was proving a very dull lesson.

Three men in uniform strode in, guns in the belts at their hips and walkie-talkies strapped over their chests. "POLICE" was written in white over their backs and the word made everyone switch on, murmurs and whispers floating around the room like a wave. Mack noticed Kai straighten up at this too, Mack's stomach dropping as she tried to swallow the guilt.

The tallest of the three men cleared his throat, turning to face the class while his two colleagues spoke quietly to their teacher.

"Hello, students. I am Officer Moore," he spoke authoritatively, "and today I am here to tell you something that may be...shocking." There were whispers floating about. "So," he said a little louder - grabbing the students' attention, "if you all quiet down, we'll get to business."

Mack's leg was bouncing furiously under the table, hand clenched into a tight fist and she bit her lips to stop herself letting out a sharp gasp at the pain of her nails digging into her sweaty palm. Kai reached out for her hand, uncurling it and holding it tight in his own, clearly not bothered about the little crescent-shaped cuts that were now leaking blood. The gesture calmed Mack, and she soon settled, the feeling of Kai's skin on hers comforting.

"We are here to tell you that Ben McCoy," he paused, murmurs erupting around the room at the mention of Ben, "has been declared a missing person."

[crowleyellestair]

I know this is a tad random but I was watching gbbo and it dawned on me...has geralt ever had a birthday cake, like one made for him? I assume he’s celebrated his birthday before but it is suddenly of the upmost importance to me that our good boy gets to have a birthday party filled with love and thanks, just for him

AN/// I love this, and got carried away. Didn’t know how long you wanted it, but this is a longer thing because you are right. The man deserves a cake.

  “How did you know?”

“Well, I have a knack for remembering important dates, and your birthday is one of the most important of all. I wouldn’t have missed it for the world,” she leaned down, giving a wink. Ciri threw her arms around the woman in front of her, a smile clear on the girl’s face. Ashen hair was sticking in every direction from the training she had been going through with the witcher, and her breath was still catching up with her. Sweat rubbed off from her forehead onto the woman’s blouse as she tightened the hug, but Y/n couldn’t be bothered as the hug meant more to her than a simple shirt. She returned the hug, her hand trying to smooth the wild mane.

“Excuse me, but I think I am in need of a hug too. After all, I was the one to make the cake.” The bards voice was dripping with sarcasm, but he had been the one to make the pastry. Luckily for the two of them, it was something he learned by spending his childhood with the cooks of his family’s estate. It wasn’t a big thing, as he had to convince the town’s tavern to let him borrow their kitchen. It was big enough to let Ciri have her fill of lemon cake with a simple vanilla frosting the two had made while her lover and his child were training.

Ciri let her go, jogging into the bard’s open arms, but she had to wait as he paused her to take off his doublet. She rolled her eyes, looking to Y/n who smiled and shrugged. Once the doublet was neatly folded and placed on the rock he had been perched on, he dramatically opened his arms again. She pushed into him, the hug being too heartwarming, even for the bard’s standards. Ciri pulled away for a moment, looking between him and the cake.

“Do I have to eat the flowers too?” That made the bard blush and huff as Y/n laughed. She had questioned the garnish when he placed it there in the first place, but he said it needed to look perfect. Gentians covered the top, the color being as close as possible Jaskier could get to Cintran blue. A dandelion had also made its way onto the cake, but his explanation for it was that it tied in with the lemon flavor, but the woman hadn’t believed that that was his whole motive.

Geralt had simply been an onlooker of the scene, not having been in on the plan. Guilt had formed in his chest as he hadn’t realized it was her birthday, but he refused to show it. Though, it grew worse once the girl pranced up to him, fork in hand.

“What to try it?” Her emerald eyes shined in the light that pierced through the canopy of leaves above them. He kneeled down, a ghost of a smile appearing to her.  His hand fell onto her shoulder, thumb making minute movements.

“It’s your cake, you should have all of it.” His eyes darted to the bard who was still chewing the piece he had accepted. His golden gaze shown over her again, and his tone softened. “Happy birthday.” Ciri smiled, popping the small bite of cake into her mouth before her arms draped over his broad shoulders.

The group moved in tandem as every other night, setting up for bed after the girl had finished her cake. Geralt had been fishing through his travel back when Y/n popped up next to him, shoving a small leaf wrapped item into his hand.

“I remember when you got this for her, but noticed you never gave it. I thought this would be a better time than ever.” He nodded, grabbing the small charm he had seen weeks ago. It practically called to him, whispering the  joy she would have from the tiny lion charm. He had put a chain on it, but it was meant to wrap around her dagger that she had, so she could always have a reminder of her blood family despite what had happened.

He felt Y/n’s hands on his shoulders as she leaned in to press her temple to his. He leaned into it, apart of his guilt subsiding.

“Sorry I didn’t tell you, but I know you don’t like keeping things hidden in general, let alone keeping things from Ciri. Even if it is a birthday surprise.” Geralt nodded again, humming while turning his head. His nose brushed her cheek in a small show of affection. The witcher was still coming around the bend when it came to normal sprouts of affection as he had never really received or gave it. But it was true that he didn’t like keeping things from his cub, despite it being for her benefit.

The witcher had taken his cub to a secluded part of the wood, likely the same place they were practicing in earlier. Y/n plopped herself by the bard, pushing his shoulder with hers.

“So, you’ve been with him for decades. When’s Geralt’s birthday?” The bard raised his brow to the woman next to him, feigning offence.

“You aren’t going to ask when my birthday is?” She rolled her eyes, looking up to the darkened sky.

“It was eighty….nine? Eighty-nine days ago, but I know you had a large celebration at the Rosemary.” He laughed, looking to the sky as well. It seemed for a moment that he got lost in a memory that flooded his mind at the mention of the night before Y/n shoved him again. His expression fell as he realized,

“I don’t think he has one. You know he doesn’t like to think of life before the trials, and I doubt he would find his change an exciting ‘re-birth’.” Y/n nodded, standing to go back to her bag. She fished out a journal, and sat back down, holding a gentian before pressing it into a blank page. As she put pressure onto it, she flipped through the pages, looking over all of the items and dates on each. She kept track of important memories by putting items into the book, and writing the dates over them to be able to revisit them anytime she needed to. One specific page jumped out. There wasn’t much except for a stain from Geralt’s swallow that had spilled there. That was the day that they had officially started their journey together. They hadn’t started their weird form of courting till months later, but they wouldn’t have been where they were unless they had met that day.

“Jaskier, how far away is this from today?”

---

 “Just keep him away! It’s not as hard as you’re making it seem.” The bard rolled his eyes, only his head popping into the room.

“He hates banquets, doesn’t want to leave Ciri and wants to spend his free time with you. It is hard!” Their whispered argument came to a halt when Jaskier heard the creaky steps of the inn grow louder. He was right in being cautious because Ciri hurdled through the door before Geralt followed silently. Jaskier fully opened the door for the witcher, who looked at the girl bounce on the bed after throwing herself onto it. His hands rested on Y/n’s waist, his forehead resting against hers.

“You are sure you’ll be alright?” She smiled, tilting up to brush her nose against his in a soft eskimo kiss.

“I wouldn’t let you leave if I wasn’t. And besides, it’s only a handful of hours.” He nodded against her, but pushed away to check on his cub before he and Jaskier left for a banquet the bard was performing in that night. It was a very lucky happenstance, but Y/n was still worried about her plan. If the two came back too early, or something went wrong on their end, the night could be ruined. Her biggest fear was his reaction.

Ciri had explained how the men of Kaer Morhen did celebrate birthdays, but it wasn’t big. It was a bigger dinner than most nights, along with more ale, and was more focused on living another year. She said Vesemir changed the day every year, as he explained to her, because the date didn’t matter. It was more of a celebration, despite them not really even acknowledging the reason behind the celebration. Y/n didn’t want to go against their makeshift birthday, but it wasn’t a day just for Geralt- it was for everyone there. And from what the cub had said, it wasn’t anything really special anyways. Despite how big or small it was though, it was with his family, and she didn’t want to undermine it. The wolf might not want to change celebrating the day, though Y/n didn’t want him to not celebrate in winter either.

Beside the anxiety, she was excited. The two were only supposed to be gone for two hours, which left the girls with a lot to do. Y/n had saved up enough to get the biggest room in the inn for her and the witcher. Ciri had agreed to room with the bard for the night, and was excited to help. She had free reign over Jaskier’s bath bag, and asking for extra candles from the innkeeper using her large doe eyes. The large room had a smaller one off of it that held a tub, and tried to make it as relaxing as possible.

While the cub went on a rampage of candles and decorations in the bathroom, Y/n was fusing in the kitchen. She had been trying to get Geralt to eat different types of cake over the previous three weeks to try and figure out what his favorite was. Unfamiliar textures and strong flavors had been rejected, and pushed in front of her to eat. It didn’t help too much, but she had an idea by asking around for dumbed down fruit jams. She was lucky again to take care of an older woman towns away who had given her a raspberry jam that hadn’t had much of the favor or scent. Her age apparently changed her taste buds, and tastes too strong became sour to her. And out of all the different types of cake, it seemed the only one she might be able to pull of was a simple sponge cake.

The baking process took longer than she thought, especially since she had to start over after over whipping the eggs. Ciri’s commentary certainly didn’t help her nerves, when she popped down to see if she could decorate the desert. The cake seemed darker on the bottom than it should be, and it isn’t level by any means. She cut through the middle to put the jam in, but afterwards she noticed the slight slant to it. Jaskier had given her the frosting recipe, but she tried to use less sugar. In doing so, it made it runny, but it covered up the filling line and that’s what mattered. Ciri tried her best to create a wolf out of berries they had picked up in town, but it seemed more like a cat. Atleast it had resembled something and that, again, is what mattered.

Y/n brought the cake up, as well as ordered water and a smaller plate of the honey ham that the tavern was selling that night. It was likely the man had eaten when he was at the party, but she couldn’t be sure. Ciri sat by the window, keeping watch for the boys as Y/n lit all of the candles. It was only minutes after she had finished when Ciri practically bounced over to hide behind the door. Y/n stood on the other side, waiting for the door to open. Jaskier made a grand entrance, with Geralt grumbling behind him.

“This isn’t your room bard.” The witcher fully stepped through the door, looking around in confusion before Ciri pounced, using the chair next to the door to get leverage and jupm onto his back.

“Happy birthday, Geralt!” The man turned to look at Y/n questioningly as she leaned next to the door. Jaskier mirrored the child’s statement and started strumming a birthday tune. Ciri let go to run to her bag, grabbing the gift she had made. It wasn’t much, but she had made a small saddle patch as embroidery was something she had to master by ten.

The witcher kneeled down as he always did with Ciri, as she gave him the gift. He pulled her in for a long hug, and she was surprised that Ciri hadn’t pulled away. Jaskier was busy tilting his head at the leaning cake. Eventually the white haired man let her go, and joined Jaskier looking at the cake. Y/n felt her heart pound in her chest. It was well known by everyone that she was not the chef of the group, let alone baker. Jaskier gave her a look, trying to put a smile up.

“It looks…like cake.” Y/n felt a flush spread, looking to Geralt. He simply stared at the cake, but she could see the cogs turning.

“Well…well, it’s not for you. Geralt, darling, happy birthday. It’s supposed to be a raspberry sponge cake, but I guess it could also be poison. If you don’t like it, I won’t take offense. The raspberry is toned down, and the amount of cake should balance it even more.” Her eyes danced everywhere but the man she spoke to. “Oh! And a special bath is ready for you, whenever you want it.” Geralt turned to walk into the bathroom, and Jaskier moved to take Ciri back to their room.

Geralt stood and stared once more for a long moment before turning to look to Y/n, who still didn’t look at him. Her hands were fiddling with each other, and her eyes planted themselves with looking to her feet.

“I, uh, know you already celebrate kind of, but I thought… You deserve more. Way more than this, even, but I thought this was good too for being on the road. The cake is definitely questionable, so I do warn you.” Geralt had closed the few paces between them before his arms wrapped around her. Y/n quickly melted into the tight hold, her own arms wrapping back. He pulled back before leaning down, kissing her. It was soft for the force he put behind it while landing his lips against hers. When she pulled away, she looked at him, searching. A disbelieving smile appeared, and she grinned back.

“Thank you. You didn’t have to.” She rolled her eyes, giving her arms a squeeze.

“Actually, I think I did.” Y/n let go, walking to the cake, but just stared before trying to cut in. She turned, handing him the fork with a nice bite, and he happily accepted. Her heart stopped, and waited with belated breath to wait for his verdict. Geralt smiled and nodded, handing the fork back.

“It’s great.”

“You can say it’s bad-.”

“My cake, my verdict.” Y/n gave a warry look, but nodded regardless.

“Just don’t eat the bottom. It seemed like it could be burned.” Geralt leaned over her, reaching and jabbing the fork into the sponge. He raised the bite to her lips, and she looked to him. “It’s yours.”

“Exactly. I want you to have some.” She sighed, letting the fork pass her lips, and was happily surprised by the pleasant flavor. It wasn’t the best cake, but it was passable. The woman turned in his arms, unlatching the armor buckles as he continued to take bites of the cake. There was a pause, as she had finished and waited to take his pauldrons off when he pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“It’s just a cake, Geralt. You deserve more than this.”

“No one has given me a cake before. It’s special.” Y/n didn’t even think of that. She was sure he had, but it was probably before the trials. They continued to undress and eat cake before they made their way into the bath. Y/n was straddling him, washing every inch of skin in front of her before he asked, “Why today?”

“Oh, well, today is the anniversary of us meeting.” Geralt smirked, his hand coming up to brush a thumb over her cheek where rouge soap bubbles had landed.

“You logged that?” Y/n gave a scoff, trying to play off her flush.

“Well, you spilled swallow all over the page. I couldn’t possibly use it for anything else, so I wrote the date down. Maybe it was fate.” Geralt rolled his eyes at that, but let his head fall back against the rim of the tub. He felt Y/n place a small kiss on his nose, hearing a soft, “Happy birthday my darling Geralt.”

[stusbunker]

What Lingers Within: Two

A Supernatural Fan-fiction Mini Series

Featuring: Past Dean Winchester x Female!reader

Word Count: 2577

Primo Beta: @itmighthavebeenintentional

Aesthetic and beta’ing by: @thoughtslikeaminefield

Summary: A flashback and some case drama to iron out. There’s breakfast and a confession.

Warnings: Unconsciousness, a gun, man-handling, unresolved emotions

Series Masterlist

^*^*^

               “Nope.” She shook her head, hair mussed against the sheets as he leered over at her.

               “We need to leave. Move your ass.” Dean swatted the mattress, shaking her from her perch of stubbornness. 

                 She kicked away playfully, whining as she twisted to burrow into the pillows. He pounced before she was even situated, hands like magnets to her waist, pinching just so until she was shrieking. Bent in half in his arms, he had her pinned in place, her t-shirt bunched up with her belly spilling over the band of her simple gray sweats. He wasn’t sure when she’d stolen them, but they were unquestionably hers now; they looked too good on her to ever take them back.

               Before he realized it, he was giggling right along with her, out of breath and tangled together on the bed once more. She threw her thigh over his chest, straddling him and claiming temporary victory.

               “Two-point reversal,” she huffed, locking his wrists above his head.

               “You play dirty, anyone ever tell you that?” Dean teased, half-heartedly struggling against her weight.

               She made a thoughtful face. “Uh, only crybabies, why?”

               Dean slipped his right arm out under her calf and flipped her onto her side. “I’m sorry—what were you saying?”

               “We have until ten for check out?” She panted, smile dazzling as she feigned innocence.

               “Nice try.” Dean smacked her ass and held on. “Ten minutes and I’m leaving you here. Move it.”

               “You wouldn’t dare,” she mocked, pushing her thigh between his legs and grinding into him.

               “Don’t tempt me, Y/N. I mean it. I’ve got a case,” Dean warned down his nose, dimples of discontent in full effect. 

               She took full advantage, landing a sloppy kiss to his pursed lips before rolling off the bed and leaving him in the scratchy sheets alone.

^*^*^

               Dean fell asleep remembering the woman he used to know, the one who he had had to let go. A smile on his lips as he tried not to think about the reserved and shell shocked face she now wore. The one that looked at him like it was the first time. The one person he wanted back more than he’d ever admit.

^*^*^

               It was Saturday morning and after everything that happened during the week, you had allowed yourself to stay up way too late the night before. 

               Unfortunately, your internal clock decided you should still wake up at seven with little hope of returning to sleep. Begrudgingly you got dressed in warm comfort, just put together enough to not draw attention at your favorite café. 

              Outside your building a black muscle car was parked on the curb, the model name on the tip of your tongue when you spotted the guy asleep in the front seat. Embarrassed for him, you turned away only to realize who it was. Agent Berkman was camped outside in plain clothes, the implications that you were under surveillance made you start to panic. Terrified, you turned back around, scared that whoever, whatever, you saw murder your coworker was coming after you.

               Silently, you vowed to stop watching procedural cop shows.

               With only one goal on your mind, you whipped your door open and scrambled for Agent Colfax’s card on your kitchen counter. He answered on the second ring, but before you could get out why you had called everything went black; a heavy slam to your temple sending you to the abyss.

^*^*^

                “What?” Dean answered Sam’s call.

               “Dude, where are you?! She just called me freaking out and then the line went dead,” Sam snapped.

               “Sonovabitch! Fuckin’ fell asleep. I’m goin’ in. Get here when you can.” 

                 Dean didn’t wait for his brother to reply. He snatched his machete from the floor of the backseat and tucked it haphazardly in his jacket, hoping his layers would protect him from the freshly sharpened blade. 

                 Getting someone to buzz him into the building took an eternity. The little control he had left disappeared as he found her door swinging loosely from the landing. Every part of him thundered with alarm; everything he had given up to keep her safe meant nothing if something happened to her now. He pushed the guilt down and scanned the living room that ran into the kitchen.

               Her phone was on the floor beneath the island, but nothing else seemed out of place. Dean pocketed it and continued down the hall. Bathroom was empty, but as he toed the bedroom door open, he spotted her prone on the bed. Before Dean could make it the rest of the way to check her pulse, he heard a gun’s safety unhitch at his temple.

               “Where did you come from?” a condescending female voice asked.

               Dean huffed in exasperation, ducking his head before he snatched the handgun out of the woman’s hand. It wasn’t even loaded. Confused and unamused, Dean grabbed her wrist and bent it behind her back.

               “Lady, if you point a gun at me, you better know how to use it,” Dean growled. “Now what do you want with her?!”

               This woman was no vamp. Her high-end yoga pants and running top were her pathetic attempt at ninja black. She struggled against him futilely.

               Frustrated, Dean pushed her against the closet doors.

               “Why are you here, huh?” Dean’s voice dripped malice.

               “To finish the job! Little Miss Snitch over there was supposed to go down with Chase. Instead she caused a panic and the whole place was crawling with cops,” Katelyn snarled.

               “So what? The vamps were there on your dime?” Dean demanded.

               “Not exactly. Why? What’s it to you?”

               “I’m just a naturally curious guy,” Dean taunted. “Poor girl watches her coworker become someone’s lunch and suddenly her--- what? Boss? Supervisor? What are you to her, hmmm? Holds her hostage. Waiting for somebody else to do the dirty work?”

               “Well, I wasn’t gonna move her, hard enough getting her ass in here,” Katelyn spat. 

                Dean twisted her arm higher, causing her to squeal in pain.

               “Might wanna watch how you talk about her in my presence, Sweetheart.” Dean hummed in satisfaction.

               “Dean!” Sam’s voice broke through their grunting match.

               In less than twenty minutes, the local cops were walking Katelyn out of the building in cuffs. Sam, as Agent Colfax, was giving a statement to the lead detective, leaning in on their lack of professionalism with the initial investigation. Dean sat by while the paramedics looked the victim over.

               “I hate to be that guy, but do you think you could just use the salts, we’re kind of on a timeline and she hates hospitals,” he murmured.

               “And your relationship to the patient--- Agent?”

               “Well, um, you see,” Dean fumbled.

               “Old friends,” Sam broke in, pulling out his phone. 

                Dean had no idea where Sam had pulled the picture from, but it softened the look on the first responder’s face. Luckily, she seemed to be coming to all on her own.

*^*^*^

                Waking to Agent Berkman’s blurry smile seemed more a memory than a dream until you realized it was reality. 

                The paramedic descended on you briefly until the detectives stepped in for follow up questions. Through it all you felt the FBI agent watching you, hovering unlike anyone else in the room. You were grateful to be saved from an ambulance ride, not wanting to add a traumatic hospital stay to an already horrid week.

               “You should have a follow up appointment with your primary care physician. Head injuries can be serious,” the paramedic warned, the first of the swarms of people to vacate your home.

               “The crime scene people are going to be awhile, breakfast?” Agent Colfax whispered to Agent Berkman, nodding in your direction.

               The scruffy man squatted down to look you in the eyes, your attention had returned to the patch of the floor where Katelyn’s gun sat.

                “Y/N? Honey, why don’t you let us take you out for some pancakes, hmmm?”

               It was such a casual intimacy that you almost didn’t register it. Looking from him to the other agent made you pause, a growing hunch of a secret lying between them and yourself. A hidden path that you instinctively needed to see through. It made you bolder than you had felt in days. 

              With a quick glance at all the other strangers in your apartment, you whispered conspiratorially, “what’s your name?”

               “Dean.” He gave you a sad smile. “And that’s my brother, Sam.”

               You nodded, unsurprised and relieved with his honesty. You gave Sam a simple wave, earning you a sly dimple as you stood up. 

              “Okay, but when we get there--- I have some questions.”

               Dean sent Sam a look, but he only shrugged in response. You giggled at his dismay and carefully stepped around the evidence collectors in your way.

               Without batting an eye you slipped into the backseat of the massive black Chevy as the men had yet another silent conversation over the hood of the car while you settled into the dead center of the bench seat. 

               Your greasy spoon of choice was only a few blocks down and was considerably less congested than the foodie brunch place across the street. Once breakfast was served, with only the unexplained trust and slight annoyance you had found in the scruffy agent you knew now as Dean, you broached the subject of that little slip up he made back in your apartment.

              “So--- why’d you call me ‘honey’, Dean?” You watched him gape as you carefully chewed a fluffy buttery mouthful. 

               Sam chuckled over his coffee.

               “I--- didn’t mean to?” Dean tried to play it smooth.

               “And you’re not FBI,” you weren’t asking. “So, considering you saved my life, but only because you were practically stalking me...” You smirked at Sam as Dean tried to cut you off. “I need to know what’s going on. Because I don’t know you. Either of you. But, somehow, I trust you. So, don’t lie. Not anymore. Not to me.”

               Dean’s head fell back, and he muttered to the ceiling, “Cas, I swear to god...”

               Sam cleared his throat. “Those were vampires your boss hired. That’s what brought us to town. We hunt monsters.”

               “But?” you pushed.

               “But,” Dean pinched his brow. “When we realized you were the witness---.”

               Dean looked at you like he had kicked your proverbial puppy, apologetic eyes sparkling in the slanted light. For some reason you felt the shift, he was a breath away from crumbling. 

               You reached across the table and took his hand in both of yours, brushing the cheap vase and assortment of sugars with your elbow.

               “Hey, it’s okay, I’m not gonna freak out. Well, I might, but I’ll try to reign it in,” you tried to encourage him.

               Dean’s smile was more of a grimace, and Sam spoke up, “We used to be your friends. A long time ago and the reason you don’t remember us---”

               “Is because I had an angel take your memories. Of me. Of us. To protect you from this life,” Dean rushed. “I am so sorry that you got dragged back in. If I’d known---”

               You pulled back, a single hand tented on the tabletop as you processed what they were telling you. You watched Sam adjust, avoiding eye contact with Dean who had practically jumped back from the edge now that you were no longer touching him. 

              “We weren’t friends, were we?”

               You stared at Dean, waiting for him to lie. There was no life in his gaze, but his jaw was tight. 

“No.”

               You exhaled, wiping away a tear you hadn’t meant to shed. “How long---uh, how long were we together?”

               Sam made an excuse to use the bathroom or pay the bill or invade Mars, leaving you alone with Dean and your barely touched meals.

               Internally, you dove into the past to find the holes, knowing there were gaps in your memory that you attributed to stress or depression. Dean sat up, straightened his jacket and leaned against his forearms on the edge of the table.

               “A year and some change, we lived in that shitty upper with all the plants,” Dean conceded. “Look, there were demons who would’ve done anything to get to me and the easiest way for them to do that was with you.”

               “I’m sorry, what?!” you balked. “You decided that leaving me behind, without my memories, would be the best way to save your own ass?!”

               “It wasn’t like that. They could’ve had me. They just wanted to hurt me deeper than any knife could reach. And that’s you, it’s always been you. Seeing them use you----” 

Dean ground his teeth. “You were possessed. You told me I was a terrible lay with daddy issues. You nearly gutted Sam.”

               “I? Me? As in?” You sputtered, making the Psycho knife gesture. 

Dean laughed out loud at your disbelief or the action, probably both. It was a nice sound, but that didn’t stop the tears, from either of you.

               “I did it to protect you. And I’d do it again,” Dean sighed.

               “But you’re not going to. Right? This isn’t some ruse to lure me in and fuck with my mind again?” You challenged, sitting up straighter to clock both Sam and the exit.

               “No. Even if Cas were here, I won’t do that to you now. You need to be able to protect yourself, not that there should be any more vampire hitmen in your future, but just in case,” Dean’s eyes pleaded with you. 

                You wanted to believe him, you also never felt more helpless in your entire life. You had a past you didn’t remember, monsters really do exist, and two random guys can pose as FBI agents to get whatever information or infiltration they’d like. What could you even do with all that?

               “What am I supposed to say here? Are you looking for a thank you? Or some twisted sort of forgiveness because I can’t give you that. Not when I don’t know what I lost. It wouldn’t be real.” You dropped your head into your hands which were propped on the table. “I don’t even know what real means anymore.”

               It felt like the silence would never break when Dean’s low voice cut through your paralyzing anxiety. “Look… is there somewhere you can stay tonight? Someone you trust?”

              Dean beckoned Sam back to the table, trying to come up with some sort of plan. No one wanted to send you back to the apartment where you were attacked.

              You listened to them talk about you like you weren’t there, dull-eyed and growing increasingly numb. Because partially, it was easier than continuing to argue and unearth more emotions that you couldn’t handle. But also because you felt like your choices had never amounted to anything anyway; might as well let someone else call the shots. Nothing made sense, but the probability that it would change again at any moment only added to your shaken nerves.

            Everything around you felt like it was made of sand. Dumbfounded, you waited for the next stiff breeze. 

            You didn’t speak up to ask to go home and pack a bag while you watched them clear out their motel room with practiced speed.

            The backseat of their car rocked with the calloused roads that led to your cousin’s house the next county over. You arrived at the old farmhouse just after sundown, letting Sam do all the talking before you excused yourself to the guest room for the night.

^*^*^

Series Tags: @tiggytaylor  @vicmc624 

General SPN Tags: @flamencodiva @dolphincliffs  @dontshootmespence @thoughtslikeaminefield  @fangirlxwritesx67 @dawnie1988@mrswhozeewhatsis​ @cosicas-cuquis @foxyjwls007 @tumbler-tidbits @defenderrosetyler @ericaprice2008 @princessofthefandomrealm @wingedcatninja​

^*^*^

Read On: Chapter Three

[incorrectprodigalsonquotes]

Carved in the Cradle Chapter 4

Chapter 4

They were in the conference room gazing at their usual murder board. Malcolm had kept the roof of Isabella’s stroller covered so she didn’t have to see anything. Based on the fact that she had just been changed, fed and was currently taking a nap, everything seemed to be alright.

“So have we found out anything unusual about Arianna?” Malcolm asked as he studied the board.

He still couldn’t quite understand how a woman like Arianna could have gotten herself put on this particular sequential killer’s radar. The first two victims had been both been very different. One had been a waitress in a beat down diner and the other had been a mechanic in a downtown auto shop. By all accounts, she lived a relatively different life. Being a teacher in uptown and living in an apartment that had cleaning services and all.

However, that was the peculiar thing.

“Other than the fact that she was living in a brand new uptown apartment on a fourth grade teacher’s salary, not much, not even how she got the apartment.” Dani replied, “All the documents say is that the apartment was bought in her name and the buyer bought it with cash.”

“Could it have been from a boyfriend?” JT inquired.

Malcolm shook his head, “She didn’t have one. Barely anything in that apartment other than Isabella’s nursery suggested the personal touch.”

“Bright’s right.” Gil nodded his head, “Judging by ads for the apartment complex, Arianna hasn’t changed much about the decor inside. Save for a few pictures of her parents and Isabella over the fireplace.”

“No way she could have afforded a place like that.” JT said as he flipped through an old ad brochure of the apartment, “Even if we didn’t have the twins, there’s no way me and Tally would be able to afford this place.”

Dani raised her eyebrows, “Are these places really that expensive?”

Malcolm nodded, “Oh yes, I remember Mother tried to bribe me with one of those apartments. Never saw the appeal; it was too... clean cut.”

Dani smirked, “I’m guessing it didn’t work.”

He smirked back, “Do you see me living in that building? Instead I live in an apartment that my mother threatens to turn into a Panera every other day.” He looked back to the board, “You know... she may not have had a boyfriend but if we can figure out who bought her that apartment then we might be able to figure out if there’s a connection between the apartment and the killer.”

“Good call.” JT nodded in agreement, “There has to be connection there but what about the whole corset thing?”

“First we need to find the corset that killed her.”

“Luckily for us, that apartment building gets its trash taken every other Friday so we can go check their dumpster.”

Just then, they heard tiny sobs and hiccups coming from them. Their heads all turned to the stroller as Malcolm walked over and lifted the roof of the stroller slightly as Gil flipped the board to hide the gruesome photos of Arianna.

“Hey...” Malcolm whispered, “What’s wrong?”

Isabella just hiccupped again as she held out her arms to Malcolm. He picked her up out of her seat as her tiny hands grasped the fabric of his suit jacket. However it wasn’t long until Isabella started hitting him and kicking her legs. Her sobs only got louder as tears started streaming down her face again.

“Isabella-” Malcolm was only cut off by her crying and that she started hitting his face. If she wasn’t so tiny, it might have hurt him.

He tried gently shushing the baby and Dani was the first to notice the look of panic that slowly crept onto Malcolm’s face, “Bright-”

“I don’t know what I did wrong!” Malcolm started with worry in his voice, “I-I fed her right a-and she doesn’t need to be changed. She was just taking a nap-”

“Hey.” Dani interjected, raising her voice slightly to be heard over the cries that just kept getting louder, “You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s probably just the same thing that happened this morning.” She walked over and tried to help him keep Isabella from falling out of his arms, “She’s somewhere she doesn’t really recognize. She’s probably just scared.”

Then it hit him, “Do we have any of Arianna’s personal effects?” Malcolm asked over Isabella’s screaming.

Dani furrowed her brows, “What?”

“A jacket, a shirt, something soft that belonged to her.”

“We have a scarf.” JT said, holding up a light blue scarf with pastel pink flowers embroidered on it.

“That’ll do!” Malcolm exclaimed as he snatched the scarf out of the detective’s hands. He looked down at Isabella as he held the scarf close to her and gently tried to shush her.

She kept crying and Malcolm silently wondered if this had been a dumb idea until he felt Isabella move to reach for the piece of clothing. Her screaming cries began to subside into quiet sobs as she held the scarf close. Her tiny fist gripped the soft garment as she began to whimper and settle down.

That’s when it clicked for Malcolm as he let out a defeated sigh. She just wanted her mother but her mother wasn’t coming back. What’s worse is that there was nothing he or anybody else could do about it. He just let the little girl rest her head on his shoulder as she began to calm down.

“She’s starting to realize that her mom’s not around, isn’t she?” JT asked, seemingly the only one who could bring himself to speak after Isabella’s little scene.

Before Malcolm could respond, he heard a shrill voice coming from outside the conference room. “Malcolm! You have some explaining to do!”

He cringed at the sound of his mother’s voice. He looked down at Isabella who had stuffed part of the scarf along with her own hand in her mouth and was chewing on it, “You don’t think she noticed the crib, do you?” Isabella just used her other arm and patted his head, “Yeah, it was dumb to think she wouldn’t.”

He gave an apologetic look to Gil but the older man just waved his hand, “Go explain things to your mother. The quicker she understands, the quicker we can get back to work.”

Malcolm nodded as he walked out of the boardroom.

JT then turned his head to Dani with a raised eyebrow and an amused smirk, “So... you were at Bright’s place this morning?”

“Shut up.”Dani glared.

“I’m just surprised. Bright doesn’t really seem like your type.”JT chuckled, “Didn’t think you even liked his skinny ass.”

Dani turned her head to Gil who seemed a little too amused by this, “Gil, if I killed JT right now, would you still arrest me?”

“I don’t know Powell,” The older man grinned, “He is just asking an innocent question.”

(~**~)                  (~**~)                  (~**~)                  (~**~)

Malcolm found his mother waiting by a desk, tapping her designer heel on the floor. Her brows were furrowed in annoyance and her arms were crossed across her chest. Malcolm sighed and tried to put on a fake smile, “Mother-”

“Malcolm, you lied to me.”

“Now Mother-”

“You say that you’re not hiding anything from me but when I went to your apartment, there was a crib, baby supplies and stuffed animals which I am certain were not there a few days ago.”

“Mother-”

“I’ve been trying to give you your space but keeping something,” She gestured to Isabella, “Like this from me-”

“Mother! Will you listen?”

Jessica let out an exasperated sigh, “Go ahead.”

Malcolm adjusted the way he was holding Isabella when she started kicking her feet, “I wasn’t lying when I told you Isabella isn’t my daughter.” Jessica opened to mouth to respond but when she saw the scarf Isabella was chewing on and that her little face was a little puffy, the older woman stayed quiet. “There wasn’t any room for Isabella in any nearby foster homes so I was volunteered to take care of her.”

“You didn’t refuse?”

“I was hesitant...” Malcolm smiled when the baby girl started grinning through the floral scarf she was gripping with her tiny hands, “But other than a few minor hiccups, she hasn’t been much trouble.”

Jessica’s face softened. She may have come off a bit harsh but she had been genuinely offended thinking that Malcolm would hide a grandchild from her. She noticed the baby blinking at her with her wide blue eyes for a moment when suddenly, Isabella shot out an arm in Jessica’s direction. The older woman froze for a moment.

Isabella started to whine when she wasn’t able to get closer. Malcolm chuckled as he held out the baby to his mother, “I think Isabella would like to say hi.”

Jessica gingerly took Isabella in her arms, keeping a hand on the baby’s back to keep her upright. Isabella giggled as she lightly patted the older woman’s face with one hand and kept a death grip on Arianna’s scarf with the other.

“Hello...” Jessica cooed as the baby gurgled at her. She noticed the baby’s red face and tear-stained cheeks, “Have you been crying?”

Malcolm nodded, “We’re guessing that she’s becoming aware of her mother not being around.”

“Oh dear...” She continued to gush over the little girl who suddenly found Jessica’s sparkling gold necklace very interesting, “A lady as beautiful as you should not be crying. It’s not worth the headache you get afterwards.”

An idea occurred to Malcolm, “Would you be willing to look after her for the day?”

Jessica raised an eyebrow, “What?”

“That’s actually not a bad idea.” Gil said as he walked out of the conference room with a slight grin. “I was wondering why it was taking so long.”

Malcolm gave a sheepish grin, “Gil, I-”

“No worries. I could tell that you were explaining our little predicament.” The older man looked to Jessica, “It actually would be a big help if you could watch Isabella for a few hours so we can go out into the field. Talk to some suspects and it’s probably best we don’t have a baby with us.”

Jessica looked down at the baby in her arms and when Isabella looked up at her with her big blue eyes and toothless grin... she just couldn’t find it in herself to hand her back. “Alright...” She adjusted the baby so Isabella was sitting on her hip, “But only if I’m allowed to take this little angel on a shopping spree.”

Malcolm raised his hands in defense as Gil went to get Isabella’s stroller, “As long as she’s fed and changed when she needs it, you can have her until we’re done for the day.”

Gil returned with the stroller, “We need to figure out who bought Arianna that apartment.”

“What apartment?” Jessica asked as she placed Isabella into the stroller.

“That apartment complex you tried to bribe me with a few years ago. Isabella’s mother lived in that building but it’s more than likely someone bought it for her.” Malcolm responded.

“The apartment complex uptown? Every home fully furnished?” She raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah...” Gil furrowed his brows.

“I know exactly who bought the apartments there.”

So... I’m back... *awkwardly waves* Hi guys.

I had writer’s block for the longest time and I’m sorry this chapter is kind of short but this is one of those chapters I kind of had to get through in order to get to the good stuff.

I hope I did the characters justice and I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter.

Please let me know what you thought and even you have any ideas on where the story might be going because I may or may not live off of attention.

I promise it won’t take so long for the next chapter to come out and I hope you guys are still interested in seeing where this story goes <3

[iamthegaysmurf]

“I’ll keep you warm.” and if it's alright to send a second one “It’s late.  Shouldn’t you be asleep?”

7.  late nights

—–

Apparently I’m still under my angst threshold for now after letting some of it out before, so this one is much Softer™ again than the last one was.  Enjoy.  lol

Tried this one from Waverly’s PoV again, so let me know how that turned out.  I’m hoping that I’m starting to get better at it.

Also, just as a head’s up, this one is rated for sexual content.  So please be aware of that before proceeding.  ;)

((Apologies in advance for any formatting errors.  I try to go back and fix them when I first post these prompt fill fics, but Tumblr really fucking hates me for some reason.))

—–

Set after the events of 3x03, but before jumping into the beginning of 3x04.  ((Features excerpts of scenes from 3x03, 2x10, and 2x11.))

—–

The instant Waverly opens her eyes, she immediately knows something is wrong.

The howling wind had disturbed her sleep, the aging wood of the homestead groaning in protest against its fury, but that’s not what is causing her heart to throb in her throat.

Reaching out a shaky hand, she finds the bed empty, the space beside her long gone cold.  The sheets are still dampened by sweat, and a guilty feeling settles in the pit of her stomach, heavy like a stone.

Nicole.

She steps into the ridiculous unicorn slippers Wynonna had bought her as a joke, grateful at how well they protect against the cold wood that lies beyond the reach of the shaggy rug which covers most of her bedroom floor.  Fumbling blindly for her robe in the dark, she wraps it tighter around herself as a shiver works its way down her spine.

The harsh lighting of the kitchen is far more than her eyes have adjusted to yet when she rounds the corner at the bottom of the stairs, but even through her bleary squinting, she can clearly make out the figure at the table, hunched over and surrounded by several open file folders.  Nicole is so focused on everything in front of her, she hasn’t even noticed Waverly’s presence yet.

“Hey,” Waverly croaks, her throat raw with disuse.  She rubs the spots out of her eyes as she leans against the doorway.  Nicole jumps slightly, instinctively covering up the evidence she’s been studying before she relaxes when her awareness finally catches up with her.

“Hey,” Nicole mumbles, taking in Waverly with bloodshot eyes, looking every bit like a kid with her hand caught in the cookie jar.  “It’s late.  Shouldn’t you be asleep?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” Waverly returns, raising an eyebrow as she pushes off the door frame.  She shuffles closer, her slippers scooting along the floorboards.  Nicole pushes her chair back and opens her arms, allowing Waverly to settle in her lap.  It’s easy and familiar, and the routineness of it is comforting.  “Another nightmare?” she asks, wrapping her arms loosely around Nicole’s neck.  

“Yeah,” Nicole sighs, dropping her head to Waverly’s shoulder.  “Sorry.”

“There’s no need to apologize, Nicole,” Waverly says, leaning back so she can look Nicole in the eye.  “I’m sorry that I couldn’t help you.  Why didn’t you wake me?”

“You were sleeping so hard.”  Nicole shrugs, lifting her head to rest it against Waverly’s.  “I’ve been disturbing your rest so much lately, but this time you didn’t wake up.”  She fidgets with the hem of Waverly’s nightshirt.  “I…  I didn’t want to bother you again.”

“Oh, baby…”  Waverly tucks Nicole’s face into her neck, just beneath her chin, and holds her close.  “You’re not bothering me.  I want to be there for you.”  She kisses the top of Nicole’s head.  “I just wish there was more I could do.  I wish I could keep them away in the first place, instead of just holding you after the fact.”

Nicole doesn’t answer, just clinging tighter to Waverly’s shirt.  Waverly glances at the reports and photos on the table.  It must be the Black Badge files Dolls had given Nicole when she first started remembering pieces of her past after the massacre at Pussy Willows.  She knows what it feels like to be haunted bya past that constantly plays tricks on you, and she wouldn’t wish it on anyone.  Especially not Nicole.

Her train of thought is interrupted when Nicole shivers violently in the chair.

“C’mon,” Waverly says, standing from Nicole’s lap and holding out a hand.  “Let’s get you back to bed.  I’ll keep you warm.”

“Aren’t I supposed to be the bonus blanket in this relationship?” Nicole huffs, but allows Waverly to haul her to her feet.

“Sometimes, even a bonus blanket needs warming up.”  Waverly shrugs, heading over to the sink to grab a glass of water while Nicole stacks up all of her papers and places them carefully back into the file folders.  She tucks them into the messenger bag that she carries back and forth to the station with her.  “It’s like when you put a blanket in the dryer for a few minutes right before bed, so it’sextra snuggly.”

“You sound like a fabric softener commercial,” Nicole laughs, despite how shaken she still seems to be.

Waverly sticks her tongue out, but reaches down to lace their fingers together, leading Nicole toward the stairs and flipping the kitchen light off behind them as they go.  She stops briefly at the closet in the hallway outside her bedroom, grabbing a clean set of flannel sheets and pillowcases.

“Sorry,” Nicole mumbles again when she realizes what Waverly’s doing.  “I didn’t mean to leave a disgusting mess in the bed.  I changed my pajamas, but I didn’t want to wake you.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong, baby,” Waverly says, reaching up to caress Nicole’s cheek.  She pushes up on her tiptoes to give her a chaste kiss before gently tugging her the rest of the way into the bedroom by her wrist.  “It’s no trouble at all.  I just want to make you feel safe and warm.”

“Okay,” Nicole finally breathes.  “But at least let me help, please?”

Waverly nods and heads around to her side of the bed, turning on the lamp and shaking out the sheets while Nicole strips the old ones out from under the comforter.  It takes them no time at all to remake the bed together, and soon they’re both crawling back under the covers, the flannel sheets soft and inviting.

“Could…  Could we maybe leave the light on a little longer?” Nicole asks, stopping Waverly as she starts to reach for the lamp.  Waverly can tell she’s embarrassed for asking, but is also kind of desperate to avoid the darkness for a while longer.

“Of course, baby.”  Waverly moves instead to stroke up and down Nicole’s arm.  “Of course we can.”

“Thank you,” Nicole whispers.  She starts to move closer, but hesitates.

There’s something else Nicole wants.  Waverly can read it all over her face.  But for some reason, she seems almost… ashamed?

“What is it, Nicole?” Waverly asks after what feels like an eternity of silence.  “You know you can ask me for anything…”

“I was wondering…”  Nicole’s face grows bright red, nearly glowing in the soft lamplight.  She chews on her lip, deliberating something in her mind.  After taking a deep breath, she eventually continues.  “I was wondering if maybe you would, uh…”  She groans and rolls forward until she’s on her stomach, her face buried.  “Do you think maybe you could sing to me?” she finally asks, completelymuffled by the pillow.

“You want me to sing to you?”  Waverly’s pretty sure she heard what Nicole said, but she wants to clarify for certain.

Nicole nods, still not looking up, and Waverly’s face goes soft as her heart melts in her chest.  She apparently forgets to actually answer, however, because Nicole eventually peeks up at her, shoulders sagging with sheepishness.

“Never mind.  You don’t have to,” she mumbles, clearly embarrassed for even thinking about it.  “Sorry, that was stupid.  I can ju–”

“Nicole,” Waverly cuts in.  She brings her hand up to Nicole’s cheek, fingers stroking gently, before leaning in to kiss her, long and slow.  “I’ll do anything I can to help you, baby.  I would sing you a lullaby anytime.”

“A lullaby…”  Nicole buries her face in the pillow again.  “I feel so dumb for even asking.”

“Please don’t,” Waverly says, turning to rearrange her pillows behind her.  She sits up and settles into them, resting her back against the headboard.  “I would love to sing you a lullaby, baby.  C’mere.”  She pats her thigh a couple of times when Nicole looks up at her.

Nicole’s face is still red, standing out against the dark circles under her eyes, but it doesn’t stop her from scooting closer and resting her head in Waverly’s lap, her arm automatically coming to rest around Waverly’s waist.  Waverly tucks the blanket around them carefully, and then starts running her fingers gently through Nicole’s hair, over and over and over again.

As Waverly begins to sing, Nicole’s arm squeezes a little tighter, and she nuzzles into the warmth and security of Waverly’s lap.  Waverly’s voice is bright in the quiet solitude of the room, accompanied only by the occasional whistling of the wind and the soft thumping of the wooden slats that serve as siding for the weathered house.

Be still and know that I’m with youBe still and know that I am hereBe still and know that I’m with youBe still, be still, and know

Waverly’s mind starts to drift as she carries on to the next verse…

//

When darkness comes upon youAnd colors you with fear and shameBe still and know that I’m with youAnd I will say your name

“Last spring when Widow Mercedes said his name – Bulshar – it was like this shotgun went off in my head.  And Dolls helped me.  He got me files.  He…  He told me that Black Badge had been covering up these massacres for years.”

“The Cult of Bulshar,” Waverly mutters, trying to process everything Nicole has just revealed about her past.  About that night in the woods.  About how Dolls had been helping her.  About how this whole thing apparently runs deeper than any of them first thought.  “Oh, Nicole…”

“I somehow got myself down to the river, and then… then somebody saved me…”  Tears stream down her face now, her voice breaking with every word.  “But I couldn’t save Dolls.”

“None of us could.”  Waverly’s heart cracks open in her chest.  They’ve all been carrying the weight of Dolls’s death, but Nicole has been blaming herself for it this entire time.

“He was trying to help me,” Nicole sobs.  “He was trying to help me, and now he’s dead.  This is all my fault.”

“Oh…  shhhh…” Waverly murmurs, stroking Nicole’s hair beneath her beanie.  “Hey…  shhhh…” she soothes again, wrapping her arm around Nicole’s shoulders and pulling her close.  Nicole continues to sob, resting her head against Waverly’s as her grief overtakes her.  “You’re safe.”

Waverly has been carrying around a traumatic childhood her entire life. But she had no idea that Nicole had one buried deep within her, too, like a thief in the night, waiting until she was at her most vulnerable to strike.  It kills her to see this kind of fear gripping Nicole, who’s usually so sturdy and unshakable.

She doesn’t deserve the kind of shame she’s feeling right now.  None of them do.  None of them are at fault for losing Dolls, but every one of them is carrying their own brand of guilt, like an anchor, dragging them all beneath the waves.

Waverly wishes she could take this away from her.  Could lift the burden.  Could free her from the doubt that’s clouding her heart.  But she doesn’t know how to do that.  All she knows is that Nicole won’t have to face it alone.  Waverly will be there with her, every step of the way.

As long as you want me, I’ll be by your side.

//

If terror falls upon your bedAnd sleep no longer comesRemember all the words I saidBe still, be still, and know

“Nicole…  Hey…”

Nicole is trembling beside her, whimpering softly as she clutches at the sheets.  Waverly reaches out and touches her shoulder, shaking her gently, but getting no response.  She pulls at her arm a little more firmly, until Nicole rolls onto her back, and Waverly can see the tear tracks on her cheeks.

“Baby…  Please wake up…” Waverly tries again, rolling up onto her elbow until she’s hovering over Nicole.  

Finally startling awake, Nicole shoots bolt upright, nearly head-butting Waverly in the process.  Her chest heaves as she tries to catch her breath, still attempting to reconcile where she is now with where she just was.

“Nicole…  shhhhh…  you’re safe.”  Waverly gently rubs her back, trying to soothe her, but not wanting to crowd into her personal space while she’s still panicking.  “It’s okay.  You’re awake now.  It’s okay.”

Nicole turns to face her, terrified and confused, still not fully comprehending what’s happening.

“W-Waverly?” she stutters as her eyes eventually begin to focus on what’s in front of her.  She reaches out as though to touch Waverly, but hesitates, her hand hanging in the air between them, almost as if she’s afraid it will pass right through her like some kind of cruel illusion.

Waverly immediately takes Nicole’s hand in her own and brings Nicole’s open palm to rest over her heart, so that she can feel it beating and feel her chest rise and fall with every breath.

“I’m here, baby,” Waverly says, her hand resting over the top of Nicole’s.  “I’m real.  You’re here with me.  We’re in your bedroom.”

“Waverly.  Oh, god…”  Nicole collapses forward into Waverly’s arms, still struggling for breath.  “I’m sorry.  I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” she continues to mumble into Waverly’s neck, still holding on to her for dear life.

“Hey, shhhh…” Waverly tries to calm her, stroking the back of her head in a slow rhythm, hoping Nicole will be able to match her breathing to it.  “There’s no need for sorry.  I’ve got you, baby.  I’ve got you.”

Nicole falls back onto the bed, bringing Waverly with her, desperately seeking her lips.  Waverly complies, holding herself up on her elbow so that she can get a better angle.  Nicole’s hands automatically move to her hips, trying to pull Waverly on top of her as she continues to kiss her frantically.

“Nicole…” Waverly says gently, lifting herself back up again.  Nicole tries to chase after her,still grasping at her hips.  “Nicole… wait…”  Waverly places a hand on Nicole’s chest, halting her movement.

Nicole’s face falls instantly, and she tries to roll over onto her side, to face away from Waverly, but Waverly holds her in place by the hand that’s still resting on her chest.

“Hey…  Slow down…” she says calmly.  She waits until Nicole reluctantly meets her gaze.  “Baby, are you sure?  We don’t have t–”

“Please,” Nicole begs.  Her hands are still on Waverly’s hips, though she’s no longer trying to pull at them.  “It was dark, and I was so cold and so scared…  Please let me feel your warmth and know that I’m not alone.”

Waverly gets it.  She does.  There were nights after Mikshun, when she awoke just wanting to feel something without having to think.  When she needed to have Nicole inside her – and to know that it was only Nicole and nothing else.  She searches Nicole’s eyes again to make sure this is what she really wants, and then she finally nods.

“Okay.”  

Pushing up onto her knees, she reaches down to the hem of the over-sized UBC basketball t-shirt of Nicole’s that she’s wearing, slowly pulling it over her head and leaving her completely bare.  She tosses it on the floor, and watches as Nicole scrambles to lose her tank top and boxer shorts, shoving them off the other side of the bed.

“How do you want me, baby?” Waverly asks, her hand resting on Nicole’s knee to steady herself.

Nicole reaches up, letting her hands brush along Waverly’s sides until her fingers come to rest between her ribs, like they were made to fit together this way.  Her thumbs rub circles against Waverly’s hipbones as she begins to tug her forward.

“I just need to hold you close while we make love,” Nicole pleads.  “I need to feel you here with me, Waverly.  Please.”

Waverly nods and crawls on top of Nicole, carefully slotting one of her legs between Nicole’s, and then covers Nicole’s body with the full length of her own.  Nicole’s arms immediately wrap around her back and shoulders, and Waverly can feel their breasts pressing together, almost sure she can make out Nicole’s rabbiting heartbeat against her own chest.

Sliding one of her arms under Nicole’s head, Waverly holds on to her shoulders, still bracing herself on the other arm.  Nicole’s leg shifts slightly beneath her, just enough for Waverly to settle down against it while pressing her own thigh against Nicole’s wet warmth, feeling it paint her skin with want.    

“Is this what you need?” Waverly asks against Nicole’s lips, and Nicole gasps her answer into Waverly’s mouth, chasing after it with her tongue.  

As Waverly begins to roll her hips, Nicole’s arms tighten around her, leaving not even an inch between their bodies.  She sets a steady pace, driven by Nicole’s gasps and the way she pants against Waverly’s cheek between desperate kisses as they make love with urgency, but not with haste.  

The arm she was bracing herself on begins to shake, and Waverly lets her weight rest fully on top of Nicole as she brings that hand down to grasp at Nicole’s hip instead, using it for better leverage while dragging her thigh through Nicole’s heat over and over again.  Nicole catches on, letting one of the arms wrapped around Waverly’s back drift further down until her fingers are digging into the muscle of Waverly’s ass, urging her to chase her own pleasure with renewed effort.  

It had started slow, just as a way to connect with Nicole and help her fend off the darkness, but the fire is building low in Waverly’s belly, bubbling just beneath the surface as it begins to spread outward.  If the sounds Nicole is making beneath her are any indication, she’s getting close, too, trying desperately to hang on to her control for as long as she can.

Her hips are beginning to jerk up against Waverly’s, losing any semblance of rhythm they once held, and soon her body goes rigid as she whimpers into Waverly’s neck.

“I can’t…  Baby, I’m gonna…”

“Don’t hold back,” Waverly whispers in her ear, deliberately grinding down against her.  “Come for me, baby.”

That’s all it takes for Nicole to fall apart beneath her, Waverly’s name falling from her lips like some kind of prayer.  She shudders and shakes for far too many heartbeats to count, and Waverly continues moving against her until her body goes slack, still whispering Waverly’s name into the night.

Waverly begins to settle on top of her, trying to calm her own racing heart, but Nicole’s hands still dig into her hips, urging her to keep riding her thigh.

“It’s okay,” Waverly croaks, resisting the urge to keep churning her hips.  “You’ve already…  We can just cuddle now.  You can try to get back to sleep again.”

“Please don’t stop, baby,” Nicole begs, pressing her leg more firmly against Waverly.  “I want to have you, too.  I need it.”

Waverly groans, finally giving in.  She starts rocking her hips again, pleasure immediately spiking through her veins.  Nicole kisses up her throat as she moves, along the underside of her chin, over her jaw, and all the way up to the spot behind her ear that always sets her on fire.  Just as Waverly begins to pick up her pace a little, Nicole slides one of her hands around and down between them, her fingers circling Waverly’s clit.

That’s all it takes.

“Oh, Nicole…” Waverly gasps, pushing harder against Nicole’s fingers.  “Please don’t stop, oh god, ohgodohgodohgod…”

The wave that overtakes her knocks the breath right out of her lungs, stealing the rest of her words before they even reach her mouth.  Nicole eases her through it, keeping her touch light, but steady, until Waverly collapses, her limbs heavy and her breathing ragged.

Nicole’s arms return to their place around Waverly’s back and shoulders, and they stay like that for a long while until both of them have calmed back down.

“Thank you,” Nicole eventually says, kissing the top of Waverly’s head.  “I’m sorry.  I just…  I just needed you after all of that.”

“Never apologize for needing me, Nicole.”  Waverly props her head up, resting it in her hand.  “We’re in this together, okay?  Whatever you need.”

Nicole nods, unable to find her words.  Waverly rolls off of her, coming to rest on her back.  She opens her arms, inviting Nicole to join her.

“C’mere,” she says, wiggling her fingers.  “Let me hold you.”  Nicole twists around until she can rest her head on Waverly’s shoulder, throwing one of her legs up over Waverly’s waist.

They don’t usually try to cuddle this way, Nicole’s feet practically hanging off the end of the bed thanks to her being so much taller, but for tonight, Waverly will try and ward off the darkness for a little while longer.

//

And when you go through the valleyAnd the shadow comes down from the hillIf morning never comes to beBe still, be still, be still

“No matter what happens, I need you to know that I have never loved anyone the way that I love you.”

The Widow attack, Nicole getting bitten, rushing to the hospital in the ambulance…  It’s all running together in one giant blur, and Waverly’s brain still hasn’t had time to process any of it yet.  But even now, when Waverly should be trying to give Nicole hope, it’s Nicole that’s trying to reassure Waverly with what could very well be the last words they ever speak to each other.

Nicole’s body goes slack as the coma overtakes her, and Waverly kisses her sleeping form in lieu of the words she couldn’t bring herself to say a few seconds ago.

She won’t let this happen.  She can’t.

“My love…  She has iron in her veins…”

She’s failed Nicole one too many times.  Letting her get taken by Jack.  Letting her get shot by Willa.  Letting Mikshun jerk her around, by her own hand, no less.  And now this.

It doesn’t matter that she’s just found out Nicole has a wife – a hot, brilliant doctor lady – maybe she deserves this after all that Nicole’s been through simply because she let herself get too close to an Earp.  Or that in order to save her, Waverly will have to betray her sister.

None of that matters right now.  Only saving Nicole.

So a deal is struck, one that’s bound to a witch, but as long as Nicole wakes up, then it will be worth it.

Gretta gives her the anti-venom and Waverly slips it to Nicole when no one – including Shae – is looking.  Nothing happens right away, and all Waverly can do is wait.  Just sit by her bedside and hold her hand and wait.

If this is really it – if Nicole is truly not going to wake up – then Waverly is going to be here with her to usher her through it.  If they will not see another tomorrow together, then Waverly has to believe that somewhere in there, Nicole knows she’s not alone right now.

When Nicole finally opens her eyes, seeing Waverly and asking if this means she’s in heaven, Waverly nearly collapses from the relief.

“I knew you wouldn’t leave me,” Nicole says, still groggy, and Waverly hopes she knows how true that really is.

//

If you forget the way to goAnd lose where you came fromIf no one is standing beside youBe still and know I am

“Have you ever met someone, and instantly known in your heart that they meant something to you?”

“I might kind of get that, yeah…”

They’re sitting here in the Sheriff’s car, both of them trying to remember something that never actually happened.  Or maybe it did, somehow, some way, in some other world…  But how is that possible?  None of it makes sense.  

None of it but sitting here with Nicole, because for some reason, that feels more right than anything else Waverly has done today.

A long talk with Bobo del Ray later, and the pieces are slowly starting to come together for Waverly.  Her sister is missing, and that’s why everything else feels so off.  Waverly sees flashes of another life, but Nicole…  Nicole is still waiting outside for them, looking as lost as ever, with no idea where to go next.

Waverly desperately wants to help her, too.  Wants to show her who she is – who they are – but it’s hard to do that when it feels like she’s still looking through a blindfold, trying catch glimpses of the light.

They visit a witch, one that seems familiar for all the wrong reasons, and for just a moment, the veil is pulled back.  But it doesn’t last, and even though Waverly understands now that they have to get Wynonna back to fix everything, Nicole reverts to keeping a respectable distance from Waverly, who is apparently engaged to someone else.

That doesn’t last either, though, because soon they find themselves standing in a barn.  And Waverly knows what they have to do, but she doesn’t want to do it, because what if she’s wrong?

But Nicole is there with her, and even though she doesn’t remember where she came from, even though she’s forgotten all that they could be, she stands beside Waverly through what might be the very end of everything.

“Where you go, I go.”

It’s such a simple statement, but it carries the weight of the world with it.  Maybe the weight of more than one world.  This is Purgatory, after all, and you never know with this place.

Waverly surges forward to kiss Nicole, and they melt into it, like even though their minds can’t remember each other, maybe their hearts still do.

They kiss like it’s their first kiss.  Like it’s their last kiss.  Like maybe it’s the only kiss they’ll ever get and they need to pour several lifetimes into it because it feels like that’s how long their souls have known each other.

And it may very well be the only one they get, because Waverly is standing there with her finger on a button that could either save the world or end it, and she’s not really sure right now which one is more likely.  

But Nicole reaches out, her hands steadying Waverly’s, and this is it.  If this is the end of the world, Nicole is the one that’s standing beside her, and she thinks maybe that’s okay.  And she wants Nicole to know that, too.  To stand in this calm before the explosive storm, and know that Waverly is here with her.

Where you go, I go.

//

The flash of light in her memory brings Waverly back to the present as her lullaby draws to a close.

She finds that at some point during the song, she had clicked the lamp off and settled down into her pillows as much as she could without disturbing Nicole, whose head is still resting in her lap.  It may not be the most comfortable night’s sleep she’ll ever get, but it will do, especially if it means that Nicole is finally able to rest.

Nicole’s breathing has evened out now, slow and steady, like the rhythm of Waverly’s fingers still stroking through her hair.  Waverly prays it’s been enough to keep the bad dreams at bay until morning.

The last thing Waverly remembers as sleep comes to claim her is the closing lines of the lullaby, offered up into the dark, wrapping around them like a protective shield against the night.

Be still and know that I’m with youBe still and know I am

—–

If anyone is interested, the lullaby Waverly sings is “Be Still” by The Fray.  Give it a listen if you can; I love this song and it reminds me of WayHaught every time I hear it.

[dwillfightnatureforc]

Don’t Feel Right Without You

Hey guys,

Thanks for the positive response to Kamikaze that I posted yesterday. I watched the little opening scene that the AMC Premiere guys got to see and was inspired to write this. So it will be kind of spoiler-y for people who don’t know about the opening scene for episode four. Totally goes away from canon though. Hope you guys like it and I’m thinking that it might actually be two chapters.

---- 

Daryl knocked gently on the door he stood in front of, laden with a tray of food. He didn’t have very high hopes of her actually answering the door. He’d probably be left with no choice but to leave his offering on the floor in front of the door.

 He was pleasantly surprised by the sound of footsteps approaching. The door swung open slowly, revealing Carol. She had her hair half pulled up and he admired the sight for a moment. He was happy to note that she seemed less tense than the days previously. He was pretty sure she had run out of the pills she had been taking, which was another thing he was happy for.

 It had taken everything in him not to actively rip the things from her hands. He hated drugs. He had his whole life. His father and his brother had abused them, turning into monsters and shells of themselves. He remembered the time he damn near killed Merle after he had slipped him the shrooms which had resulted in his hallucination of a Chupacabra.

 He didn’t take the pills from her though. It needed to be her choice and he wasn’t going to take her choice from her no matter how much he wished he could help her.

 “Hey,” she greeted him, sounding tired. She had dark circles under her eyes, signalling her continued struggle with sleep. She glanced down at the tray in his hands.

 “Hey,” he replied quietly. He thrust the tray toward her. He did it a little too zealously, nearly dropping it and he blushed as she took it with an amused smirk. “Brought you some dinner.”

 “Thank you.”

 He nodded and shifted his stance. He really didn’t want to leave her yet. Carol was staring at him with a questioning look. Fuck it, he thought to himself.

 “Uh, can I come in?” he asked shyly, glancing at his boots before looking back up at her. Her smile softened and she nodded, stepping back and out of his way. She closed the door and moved over to the bed and sat down on it, leaning her back against the pillows.

 Daryl tried not to stare too obviously at her as she began to eat. He took up a place against the dresser and crossed his arms. He felt awkward being in the room with her even though it was actually his room. He had carried her here after she had gotten her arm fixed up and she had barely left the room.

 “Daryl,” her voice came making him snap his head in her direction. She had an amused look as she watched him.

 “Come here,” she ordered as she patted the bed. He hesitated, unsure if he could handle being that close. She patted the bed harder now with a challenging look. He huffed and approached the bed. He sat gingerly on the edge. He heard her let out a little snort. He looked at her in question.

 “Relax, will you? This is your room, remember? You’re putting me on edge,” she admonished in a light tone. He shook his head at himself. She was right as usual. He was being ridiculous. It was just Carol. But, as usual he was a bumbling nervous wreck in her presence.

 He shifted on the bed and adjusted himself. He now lay on his side, head propped up on his left hand and his muddy booted feet hanging off the bed. He raised his brows at her teasingly.

 “Better?”

 “Much,” Carol simply answered and he could see that she had actually relaxed somewhat. She continued to eat her dinner and her gusto in which she did proved what he suspected. She had not eaten properly in a while. He openly watched her eating, which he hoped she didn’t find creepy. It just made him feel better to know that she was getting a proper meal.

  “So,” she started out of nowhere, making him jump a little. “How come you’re not downstairs with Michonne and the kids?”

 Daryl chewed his lip at her question. Because you’re not there, his head whispered.

 “Didn’t feel right without you there,” he glanced at her shyly. He didn’t want to overwhelm her with his sappy thoughts. She gave him a look he couldn’t decipher but she didn’t look upset. She looked…kind of happy?

 Carol watched him for a beat before she moved her legs to curl underneath her. He watched every move she made and he couldn’t help smiling a little at the new image she presented. She looked smaller somehow but no less strong as she was.

 “And the flower?” she nodded to the little white flower in water that he had included on her tray. He blushed. He had practically had a war in his head over whether or not to give it to her. His want to make her happy had won out, of course.

 “Thought you might like it,” he replied shyly. When he gauged her reaction he was able to finally relax about the decision. She looked happy.

 “I do. Thank you.”

 He nodded at her as if it was a given and no big deal.

 “So you didn’t come up here to interrogate me?” she questioned after a while, watching him carefully. He frowned at her question. He knew what she was getting at. Alpha, the pills.

 “Nah,” he paused, considering his next words carefully. “Just wanted to be here with you.” He couldn’t help but wince as he heard the words. He hoped she didn’t read too much into it. He looked at her worriedly, chewing his lip and tasting a hint of blood.

 Carol smiled. She looked down at her lap for a moment, still smiling before she looked back up. She seemed to be thinking about something as she looked at him.

 Daryl jumped at the sound when she patted her thigh. He stared at her.

 “Come on,” she said. He frowned, not understanding what she wanted. She rolled her eyes but didn’t look annoyed at his slowness. She patted her lap again, harder this time and indicated with her head for him to move closer to her.

 He felt his heart beating a little quicker. He felt more nervous all of a sudden and he tried not to show it. He practically crawled up to the head of the bed where she sat waiting, for what he still wasn’t sure. He sat uselessly by her side, staring at her, waiting for more instructions. He fought to not fidget.

 Carol gave him a sweet smile and took his hand in hers. She used her grip on him to tug him forward and he went willingly. He was a bit stiff and awkward as she manouvered him but he didn’t resist her. He soon realised she was trying to get him to lay down. On her lap. It made his stomach jolt but he hurried to settle himself on her. His head lay on her knees and his view was filled with the sight of her pink covered stomach. He smiled as he remember teasing her the other day about her cast.

 “See my words had an effect on you,” he quipped as his eyes looked up at her. She frowned down at him, looking confused. He tugged on the front of her shirt gently. Her frown softened and her eyes rolled. She smirked and looked to the side with a chuckle.

 “Shut up.”

 He grinned at having gotten her to laugh.

 “Nah, I meant it. Pink suits you,” he reaffirmed with a nod, feeling her pants rub against his cheek. She raised a brow at that, not looking like she believed him.

 “It makes you look…I don’t know…Softer, I guess,” he elaborated shyly.

 He stared determinedly at her belly, afraid to see her reaction. He heard her huff out a laugh and his gut twisted, thinking she was laughing at him. He looked up to study her. But she didn’t look like she was laughing at him. She looked genuinely surprised by his words and looked pleased. He calmed down upon seeing it. He should have known. Carol wouldn’t laugh at him in a mean way. She never had.

 “So, you think it makes me look pretty?” she questioned and this time there was a sparkle in her eyes that hadn’t been there in a while. His mouth went dry as he stared at her. He swallowed heavily and found his mouth moving without him trying to filter it.

 “Yeah.”

 He froze when he realised what he had just said. He hid his face behind his hair that fell over his forehead. How the hell was he supposed to explain that? He shook his hair back and hesitantly looked upwards once more.

 Carol looked shocked. Her mouth hung open a little. That’s when he knew he had fucked up. He’d made her uncomfortable and he had no idea how to fix it. He thought hard about a way to apologize and maybe play it off as a joke. When he looked back at her face to lie his ass off, he was surprised by what he saw.

 The shocked look was gone. It had been replaced by something Daryl was sure he had never seen on her before. Not to the extent he was seeing now.

 Carol looked confident and proud, like his simple, stupid compliment that he had blurted accidentally had made all the difference to her self esteem. Her shoulders were back and her eyes sparked with a fire he had never seen in them.

 Whatever the hell effect his words had given her, he knew for sure that he liked it. She looked gorgeous. He always thought she was but now it was something else. For that one little moment, the haunted, haggard version of her disappeared and a confident, self assured woman had stepped out from behind a curtain. He felt disgusted with himself as he tuned into how tight his pants had become. It was not the first time he had been embarrassingly hard in her presence.

 “Hmm,” she hummed as she looked down at him with a seemingly permanent smile on her lips. He just watched her, feeling like if he spoke he might puke. To be honest, he felt like he go into cardiac arrest at any moment. He didn’t think he’d ever been so nervous when he was with her. He couldn’t explain it but there seemed to be something lingering in the room with them. Something that always seemed present between them but had now been amped up to another level.

 Carol brought her hands to his head and he stopped himself from moaning when her fingers slid into his greasy hair. He closed his eyes, feeling her start to massage his scalp. Her touch was gentle and he felt shivers down his spine in response to her unexpected attention. Her massage continued for a long while before it turned into simply running her fingers through his mess of hair.

 He prayed to whatever god there may or may not exist that she didn’t look down at his body.

[supernatural-book]

Philophobia

Title: Philophobia

A/N: And finally I release the fic that’s been sitting in the back of my mind forever, but I never had time to work on. I hope that after all the time you’ve waited it’s good enough.I’m sooooo glad I could finally get this out.

Summary: After the reader saves Dean and accomplishes her first djinn kill, the drive home in a celebratory mood, pushing aside the fact that Dean almost died. But later on, the dream the djinn gave him is still haunting Dean, and each of them shares more than they would’ve normally wanted to. Word Count: 3,010

He had never been good at feelings, and he knew it all too well. It was one of the many imperfections in his character. Whenever he sensed someone getting close to him- aside from Sam and eventually Cas- it was his natural instinct to push them away- no matter how churlish and tragic it was- before they got to close for their own good.

“In this lifestyle,” his father had told him “there’s no room for chick-flick moments.” he spat the words out like poison. And with those words, the old man had stunted his motherless son of ever having a true, caring anchor in his life. It would have been different. He had told himself night after night. If mom hadn’t died.

But then he met her. He couldn’t even begin to describe what she was like to him. A maternal figure, a sister, a hunting partner, and his best friend all rolled into one. One moment he would wake up to the aroma of apples, and she’d tell him with a flushed face that she had been baking a pie just for him, and the next she would be decapitating vampires by his side and laughing at his corny, less than appropriate jokes. Not really romantic, he knew. But still enough to make him feel something. Because even with his near tattered flannel shirt hanging loosely from her frame, splattered in blood and dusted with the dirt and grime that comes with this life, she was still more beautiful than he could ever begin to imagine. And as she dragged his drunk, sorry ass home from the bar, he felt his heart flutter in his chest, even with the alcohol in his system. She made him feel things he had never imagined he’d ever feel. And he knew it needed to stop before someone got hurt.

By this case, however, was already too late.

You both knew that you were biting off more than you could chew, working on this case, just the two of you. Sam had insisted on coming along, but you only scoffed, telling him he needed a break, and you were happy to get to see a new monster. Despite how long you’ve been working with them, you had never dealt with djinn before, though Sam and Dean had, and you were excited to get lessons from the elder Winchester brother. So you and Dean set out on your road trip, laughing and singing, trying to push back the fear of what could very possibly happen.

This morning, you had woken up before Dean, stolen one of his flannels, and knocked on the door to his motel room. He had opened the door, still groggy with sleep, and you handed him a cup of instant coffee you had made. He couldn’t stop the smile that lit up his face at your sweet gestures.

“I’d get you pie, too, but it’s not like this place has any.” You soon set off to the warehouse you suspected the djinn was hiding out, unaware of what was to come.

 Now, Dean sat, tied to an uncomfortable chair, hands tied behind his back as the djinn holding him captive walked slowly in circles around him. His nose was already dripping with a bit of blood due to the strike to his face that knocked him out for only long enough to give the djinn time to tie him down. Somewhere along the way, the two of you split up to try and find the monster, and he couldn’t help his mind wander to you, wondering if you were okay. Part of him was glad that he was the one here and you were most likely away from harm. But he also worried that, while tied up here, he couldn’t protect you from danger. God knows what he’d do if you got hurt on his watch. He flashed a smile at the female djinn, hiding his fear with charm. “So, what’s going on here? You gonna kill me or what?” The djinn only smirked, stopping her walk around him.

“Oh, deary, eventually. But first, let’s see what scares you the most.”

“Oh, so you’re one of those bastard offshoot versions of a djinn. You feed on fear, huh?” He forced out a laugh. “Go ahead. I’m not scared of you.” The djinn leaned down, a finger on Dean’s chin and eyes examining his face closely.

“Ha. It seems like your deepest desire and your worst nightmare are connected.” Dean was about to open his mouth with a snarky comment, but the djinn cut him off by slapping a piece of duct tape over his mouth. “You talk too much, ya know?” Dean grunted behind the tape. “Who’s this precious (Y/N) on your mind?” A malicious smile ripped across the djinn’s face as she saw the look of fear shatter his once confident face. Before he could cover up his worried face, the djinn’s poisonous touch washed over him, sending him into a dreamy state.

“Dean!” You laughed as he spun you around, pulled you into his body, and pressed your mouths together with a smile. You laughed against his lips. “I made pie.” You nodded towards the counter, presenting him a slice of the fresh apple pie- his favorite.

“Oh, baby. You’re the best.” The bunker was illuminated in a slightly gold light from an unseen source as Dean held your hips firmly against his own, backing you against the counter in the kitchen and diving into your lips again. “I love you.”

“Dean. Oh, Dee, baby. I love you too.” He smiled and dug into the pie, happily, watching your eyes light up, hoping for compliments.

“This is really freaking good.” You only smiled modestly, face flushed at his compliment.

“Thanks, I made it just for you.” His felt heart swell, more full than it had ever been before in his life. It felt as if he was about to burst. “Dean? What’s up?” He snapped back into focus, seeing your big, beautiful eyes watching him with worry.

“Nothing. Just… don’t ever leave me.” Dean smiled down at you, and you smiled back, relieved that nothing was wrong.

“I’d never think of it.” Before he could capture your lips in his own again, the scene twisted manically, and suddenly you were lying in the dark, a few feet in front of him, blood pooling around you as demons circled you, taking their turns torturing you. Their blades sliced at you delicate skin, leaving deep cuts that bled and bled without stopping, and they mocked Dean with their black eyes, grabbing you in ways only Dean should be able to. He tried to hurl himself at them, ready to fight but found himself unable to move. He was frozen- metaphorically and literally, and could only cry out for you.

“(Y/N)!”

“Dean… Help! Why can’t you help me?” The torture got even worse, your cries became raspier, louder, and more desperate as the wounds become more severe. Dean felt his throat close up, his eyes filling with the hot tears that he has held back for so long. Your arm bent back in an unnatural position, a sickening snap filling the dark room, shortly followed by cries of despair. Dean tried to call out, but his voice failed him once again. “It hurts! Why can’t you end it, Dean? Dean!”

“Dean?” Your voice was just under a whisper, as you looked around nervously.

You rounded the corner, gun gripped tight in your hand, ready for combat. You’d tried calling out for Dean, but he never responded, so there was only one explanation. He was captured. Wherever the djinn had taken him, you’d find him, you knew you would.

“Night, night, lover boy.” You snapped into attention, hearing a sickeningly sweet voice coming from a door ahead. That must be them. You crept forward, keeping as silent as possible and going over your plan in your head. If she was in here, you’d shoot at her to distract her from Dean, and then you’d get up close and stab her with the blood-dipped knife, killing her. You took one last breath and pushed open the door, taking aim at the woman- djinn- across the room, firing at her shoulder.

“Stay away from him!” She looked up, hardly phased by the bullet wound.

“Oh, you’re the little (Y/N) that Dean cares about so much, huh?” She circled you slowly, like a cat stalking its prey. Ignoring the glow in your heart at the thought that he cared about you, you lunged forward, taking the Djinn by surprise and grabbing her, lamb’s blood knife at her throat. “Oh, it doesn’t matter if you kill me now, I’ve already got him in a dream. And guess what. You’re the star.” You couldn’t stand listening to her any longer, plunging the knife into her throat and looking towards Dean.

“Dean.” He had a pained look on his face, suffering from whatever dream- or nightmare- the djinn had him trapped in. You rush to him, untying his wrists and shaking his shoulders, willing him to wake up from whatever fantasy world he was trapped in. “Dean, wake up!” You felt him trembling under your touch and continued to call out to him, unsure as to what to do. This was your first time dealing with anything djinn related. Dean had mentioned something about an antidote earlier, but he must’ve kept it on him. You dug through his pockets furiously, finally pulling out the one thing that could save him. You were quick to inject it to him, watching him intently for any signs of him waking up. His expression softened, and he stirred slightly, eyes fluttering open. “Dean…” You let out a breath of relief, dropping your head into his shoulder and wrapping your arms around him. He returned the hug slowly.

“(Y/N)...?” He sounded broken, scared, even. He took a moment to examine the room, a question in his eyes, before realizing what must have happened. He smiled at you, eyes red with tears. “Damn, you did good kiddo.” And just like that, his walls were back up, as if seconds ago he wasn’t near breaking down right in front of you. You wondered what could have been so bad that he was crying, but you didn’t want to pry, especially considering the circumstances.

“Damn it, Dean. You had me so fucking scared.”

“Well, it looks like you had it all under control on your own. I don’t know about you, but I’m feeling particularly homesick right now. Let’s get out of here.” You smiled, helping him up.

“Please. But maybe we could stop for food? I’m starving.”

“Oh.” He chuckled, as if everything was suddenly perfect, draping an arm over your shoulder softly. “You read my mind.”

The night dragged on slowly after that. You had gotten back to the Impala and cleaned each other up, not wanting to walk into a 24-hour diner covered in blood and dirt before you settled in the passenger seat and your trip back home began. The first part of the drive was quiet, a nice quiet. You slept through most of it, finding the sunset and early dusk calming. By the time you woke up, the stars were out, and Dean was listening to classic rock on a low volume. Finally feeling energized for the first time since the hunt, you sat up, cursing your fucked up sleeping schedule.

“Woah, look who’s up!” Dean laughed from his side.

“How long was I out?”

“Only two hours. But I think it’s time for food, don’t you? Gotta celebrate your first djinn kill.” He smiled over at you, and you felt a burst of happiness through your body that he was proud of you. You had come so far since you first started hunting with them. “There’s a diner up here, wanna check it out?”

“Yeah, let's do that.” Half an hour passed, and you were finally clearing out of the neon-lit 24-hour diner after devouring some of the most unhealthy food you’d probably ever eaten, laughing hysterically at Dean’s cheesy jokes and funny stories. Stories about pranks he had pulled on poor Sammy had you snorting your drink. “Yeah, times were simpler then…” His sentence trailed off, but you didn’t want it to dampen the mood and cheered him up quickly. With your stomachs full and a celebratory mood filling the night air, you left the diner with a burst of energy and drove for a few minutes, blasting classic rock the whole way.

Your eyes fixated on his face, studying the features of his jaw, the day-old stubble and the cuts from the most recent hunt. You wanted nothing more than to curl into him and cry, try to forget the feeling in your gut when you thought you may have lost him. You were both far too young to die. And as you looked over at the man beside you, belting along to the music blaring out of the stereo, you felt the same giddy excitement as you had the moment you sat across from him in a booth at the 60’s era diner, cheekily sipping from his milkshake. You knew this feeling, and you knew you had to do something. “Hey, Dean-o. Pull over here, please?” He looked around, trying to figure out why you’d want to pull over here of all places. It was practically the middle of nowhere, just plain open land, the moon casting a soft glow over everything. Beautiful.

“Pull over? I thought you would be in a rush to get home.” Even as he questioned you, he agreed, pulling to a stop at the grassy side of the road. You cast a glance towards him, searching for the right words.

“I… I just wanna look at the stars.” ...and tell you something… Pushing the thought aside, you justified your claim.  “It’s not often I get to stargaze, ya know?” Dean laughed, opening his door.

“Stars? Aww. You’re a nerd, (Y/N).” You smiled and exited the car, walking around to lean against the front of the hood with Dean. “Hey, come ‘er.” He helped you to sit on the hood, and you couldn’t help but laugh giddily. It was as if your teenage fantasies were coming true with the man of your dreams.

“We’re gonna sit up here? Really? I didn’t expect you to let me do that. This is your baby, after all.” He smiled, scooting himself back and leaning back against the windshield.

“Well, you get special privileges, alright?” You leaned back with him, your heart pounding in your chest. “So this is what you find fun, huh? Looking at the stars?” You looked up. It was a perfectly clear night, crisp with autumn breezes, and the stars glistened far above your figures. In your head, you imagined them cheering you on. Come on (Y/N)! If not now, when? You might never get the chance.

“Actually, Dean. The stars aren’t why I wanted you to pull over.” Deciding it would just be easier to keep talking, you continued quickly. “Tonight, I thought I lost you. And I realized that I don’t want to lose you.” You took a moment to compose yourself. “I… I love you, Dean.” You didn’t expect a reaction, let alone an answer, and you weren’t waiting for one. But, after a moment of letting it sink in, he shocked you by sitting up and turning to look you in the eyes with urgency, uttering one small word.

“Don’t.”

“What?”

“(Y/N), please. I care about you so, so, so much. You couldn’t even imagine it. But, for your safety...”

“Dean…”

“No, (Y/N), I care about you, I really, really do! Hell, I don’t think I ever cared about someone romantically as strongly as I do about you. But have you met me?” He laughed, such a bittersweet noise. “Do you even know what you’re getting yourself into? Have I ever had a good relationship? Do you know how long it takes me to open up to someone? Shit, (Y/N), I’m horrible. I’m scared of love, of all things.” He was breathing heavily by this point, obviously stressed out about just the thought of it. Not knowing what to do, you lay a hand on his knee in a consoling manner.

“Dean, I’m sorry. You don’t need to respond at all. I just needed to tell you. I wanted to tell you in case anything happens and you…” you couldn’t even bring yourself to finish your sentence.

“But I want to give you a response. You deserve one. I just need you to understand this. Do you know what happened in the dream the djinn had me in? We were together. God, it…” His voice cracked and the sound of it broke your heart. “It was great, (Y/N). We were so in love. But you got hurt. I let you get hurt. And there was nothing I could do to stop it.” He stopped his reflecting and looked back up at you, eyes filled with tears. All the emotional barriers were torn away, and you were seeing what he really felt. “So baby, I want to love you. But you need to help me break down the walls, okay?” You leaned into him, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders and letting his face rest between your shoulder and neck. You could tell he needed this. After a moment, you pulled back, and he promptly pressed his lips against yours softly. It was a short, sweet kiss, unlike anything you expected from him. You couldn’t help but giggle a bit, and Dean’s face lit up.

“Dean, I promise. I’ll help you, alright?” He smiled through his tears. You’d never seen the eldest Winchester so vulnerable, and you felt special that he would trust you enough to let his walls down. “I’m yours, Dean Winchester. And you, and all of your mess of emotions and fears are mine.”

   Taglist: 

All: @theredheadedwinchester , @solis200213, @music-lockscreen , @bella-ca  

Dean: @samanthaharper2018

[beepbeeprichiellc]

97!

97. Are you trying to flirt? Because, you’re embarrassing yourself.

The liquor was harsh against the back of his throat, burning a trail to his stomach. His once pristine tux now hung off of his shoulders lazily, his tie undone and shirt open. Luckily the open bar welcomed his sorry ass with warm arms, listening to his complaints and his bitter comments. The reception conditioned to rage on behind him, people danced, sang and rejoiced all the while he drowned his sorrows with bourbon. 

“Are you going to sit around and mope or are you going to actually participate?” A sharp voice asked, making Richie flinch. “Your best friend just got married, the least you an do is pretend to be happy.” 

“Listen Beverly,” The name came out in a slur, making his head ache. “I agreed to come, I didn’t agree to be happy.” 

“Wow.” She whistled, unnamed. “You are really going to milk this entire thing aren’t you?” 

“Looks like it.” 

The girl beside him sighed, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder making him cringe at the sympathy that was in the action. Richie didn’t want this, he didn’t want anyone to feel sorry for him. He and Bill had broken up over a year ago, so what he had met a pretty young thing in LA and so what they were expecting a baby and getting married. That shouldn’t make him feel so shitty, so worthless and yet here he was with a hole in his heart and a sick feeling in his gut. Life was moving on and as per usual, Richie Tozier was being left behind. 

“Look, why don’t you try and find someone to take home? Huh, a good romp in the sheets would do you good.” 

“Are you suggesting I have a one night stand?” He faked a gasp, clutching his chest and looking over to her swollen belly and annoyed look. “Is Miss ‘commitment is key’ telling me to slum it with some slut?” 

“I didn’t say slut.” Beverly corrected with a snap, “Ben and I are just tired of hearing you bitch about life and if getting your rocks off with someone you will never see again breaks you from this slump then so be it.” 

“Hmmm.” Richie hummed, taking another long drink. “I’ll think about it.” 

Beverly rolled her eyes, “You do that.” She left then, patting his arm and walking away from the stench that came from his breath. 

Richie swirled his bourbon, looking down the length of the bar and watching as a well dressed man stepped up, motioning for the bartender. The guy was cute, with his soft brown hair and gentle eyes. He wasn’t tall or muscular which is what Richie usually went for but desperate times called for desperate measures. Slinking down three seats he forced a smile, brushing back his matted hair and adjusting his glasses. 

“Hey there handsome, you uh-come here often.” 

The guys eyes snapped to him, am annoyed frown crossing his features. “Excuse me?” He asked, offering Richie an escape. 

Which of course, Richie opted to ignore. “I haven’t seen you around before, you a fan of the groom or bride? I bet you are for the groom right?” 

“Are you trying to flirt? Because, you’re embarrassing yourself.” The man snapped, a growl rumbling from the back of his throat. 

“Fuck.” Richie groaned, rubbing his temples forcing the entire charade to melt away. “Yeah, sorry. I haven’t done this in a long time.” 

The guys features softened at the honesty in Richie’s words, his drink being placed in front of him but he ignored it as he turned to face the trashmouth full on. Richie looked up to him, noting how absolutely adorable he looked with his heart shaped face and button nose. “I’m sorry too. I didn’t really want to come here except my friend dragged me because he thought he couldn’t get a date but he found some guy on the dance floor and now I’m drinking alone.” 

“Oh. That sucks.” 

“Yep, story of my life.” 

The music slowed, and it was apparent that it was an indication of some kind of wedding tradition. Richie tried to busy himself, not to watch his ex and his new bride twirl around the dance floor, blissfully unaware of his sullen emotion. “So you didn’t answer, are you here for the bride or the groom?” 

The nameless man raised an eyebrow, taking a sip of his martini. “I honestly thought that was a question to ask if I was gay.” He laughed, the noise so light that Richie felt his head spin. “The bride is a coworker of mine, we were invited because she want’s to transfer into my ward.” 

“Your what?” 

“I’m the head pediatrician of the children ward at Saint Francis hospital.” He explained, shrugging the title off of his shoulder. “Most nurses want to work with kids, they are so much nicer than adults. Audra has been trying to transfer for months.” 

“Ah, so a doctor huh? That’s hot.” 

“Right, sure.” He jeered, scoffing. “Long hours and late nights. Totally screw worthy.” 

“Meh, you would be surprised, a lot of people have a doctor fetish. Me included” It was just an add in, an shot in the dark but it caught the man’s attention none the less. Richie sputtered for a moment, the words lacking until he finally spat out. “Honestly I was just looking for a one night stand but I can see you’re not that type of person. It’s just nice to talk to someone who isn’t gushing over the lovely couple.” 

“A one night stand huh?” The guy asked, tapping a finger against his drink as he hummed. “What are you having some kind of self destruction streak?” 

“Kinda.” Richie admitted, “The groom is my ex.” 

“Oh really?” The man asked, turning his head and staring at the dance floor for a moment before coming back to Richie. “Do you have a room upstairs?” 

“I do but I don’t think-”

“Alright let’s go.” He cut, downing his martini in one gulp, whipping his lips against his extensive suit. “Mike’s gone and I’ll have to call a cab anyways so might as well end this shitty night with a bang.” 

“W-what?” Richie sputtered, gaping awkwardly. 

“You’re attractive, in your own dorky looking way. I’m sure you are acquitted in bed but I’ve got to be honest, it has been a long time since I’ve well-you know.” 

The song behind them ended, the venue erupting in a cloud of cheers. Richie couldn’t pry himself from the man that stood before him, the once caramel eyes now dark and lustful. It was like some kind of movie, a shitty romcom that ended with a cut sex scene and shitty confession. Still, there was an appeal to the man, a honest feeling boiling in the pit of his stomach. “I don’t even know your name.” Richie confessed, slightly whimpering as the man placed a scorching palm on his inner thigh, leaning to whisper into his ear as if it was a secret. 

“Eddie.” 

“Richie.” He replied back, chewing on his inner cheep to conceal the moan in the back of his throat. 

“Well Richie, are you going to take me upstairs or what?” 

Fuck, Richie thought as he lead the eager man though the sea of people and towards the exit. This guy is going to be the death of me.

[sunshineandfangs]

For You, Love

Step 5: Teenage Dreams (High School or College)

@howeverlongs and @joey-prue​ 

Warnings: Angst with a happy ending, cheating

Caroline fiddled with one of the flower arrangements, letting her practiced smile fall as she faced the wall. She could hear the whispers, the mutters that followed her in the hallway these past few days. About how bad they felt that she and Tyler broke up. And just before Prom too. Why isn’t that just awful? She finished straightening the last of the roses with an agitated huff, whirling with a new pageant queen smile pasted on her face. 

Everything was perfectly fine.

A scowl painted itself across her face as her eyes landed on several disarranged tables. There was a clearly labeled floor plan, how were they managing to screw it up?! Unfortunately, she didn’t see the assigned volunteers anywhere nearby for her to chew out, so she stalked over to move them herself.

“Whatever did the table do to you, sweetheart?”

Her scowl worsened at the sound of that painfully familiar British accent and she threw a glare over her shoulder.

“What do you want?”

“Just to help, love.”

His expression appeared earnest, and it was the last straw. How dare he.

She snarled in his face, not even sure when she moved so close.

“I don’t know what kind of game you think you’re playing, but you need to leave. Right now.”

The asshole had the nerve to look startled and confused, holding his arms up as if he were innocent.

“Caroline, I don’t know what you’re talking about, but take a breath, love, you’re causing a scene.”

She bit her lip as she took a surreptitious glance around, suddenly noticing the glances in their direction. Just what she needed. And there Klaus was looking perfectly reasonable. It was too much. She could feel angry tears starting to gather in the corner of her eyes. Whirling to hide them, she beat as hasty a retreat as she could manage, trying to keep her walk calm.

A few moments later she was out of the school gymnasium and bursting into the first lady’s room she could find. Bracing her hands on the cold porcelain of the sink, Caroline tried to steady her breathing. 

Staring into the scratched metal of the drain her anger fizzled into hurt, vision blurring with unbidden tears.

God she was so stupid.

Caroline’s face felt frozen as she took in the sight right before her eyes. Tyler, her boyfriend Tyler, with his hands up one of her cheerleader’s skirts. His shirt bunched in her hands, her’s pulled down to expose her bra.

They were barely even hiding, fooling around under the bleachers of all places!

God she couldn’t breath.

Perhaps she made some kind of noise, as despite their lustful fervor, Tyler froze for a second before spinning to face her, stepping in front of the girl in an awful, ironic display of chivalry.  His eyes widened when he saw it was her.

“Why?” She managed to croak out.

His expression looked guilty for half a moment before it transformed into a sneer.

“Oh, come on, Caroline, don’t act like you’re innocent here either.”

She flinched backward, stunned at his accusation.

“W-What? What are you talking about?”

“Don’t play dumb. Like I and half the school don’t know about you and Mikaelson.”

Mikaels-?

“Klaus?” She blurted out in shock.

“So you do admit it.”

“Admit what?” She half-shrieked. “Tyler, Klaus and I have talked a handful of times. We’re barely friends, if that.”

Perhaps she did nurse a bit of a crush from her freshman year when he and his family were the mysterious British transfer students. Handsome and a year older what girl didn’t swoon at least a little? But she had already been dating Tyler at the time and she had never acted on it. They really had only spoken a few times recently. And as charming as he seemed, crush or no crush, she was not a cheater.

“Still playing innocent, huh? Perfect little Caroline Forbes who could never do anything wrong?”

Caroline didn’t know where all this vitriol was coming from. ...Had he always thought of her like that? The pit that had formed in her gut from the moment she peered under the bleachers lurched. She licked her dry lips, not sure where she summoned the strength from to speak her next words so steadily.

“If that’s really how you feel, then consider yourself freed. We’re done.”

Spinning on her heel, Caroline marched away in a daze. Tyler might have shouted something after her, but she didn’t process it. 

...And he didn’t come after her.

Somehow she found herself near the boy’s locker room. Just in time to receive her second blow of the day. Truly, she was a phenomenal judge of character.

“Yo, Mikaelson, how’s the bet? Fucked Miss Head Bitch yet? Lockwood clearly hasn’t been.”

It was all she could stand to hear before she sprinted out of there. Thankfully cheer practice was over and no one would think it odd she had gone. Finding herself in the woods, Caroline slumped against a tree wondering how she could have been so, so wrong.

“Caroline…” A quiet voice broke through her chance. She didn’t bother to turn, letting her hair fall in a curtain around her face shielding her from view, knuckles whitening.

“I know,” she said equally quiet, no trace of her tears in her voice.

A sharp intake of breath sounded behind her and she heard his steps gingerly approach her.

“Tell me what you think you know, Caroline.” It was said delicately, but she still snapped at the word think.

She made a quick swipe at her tears before she spun to face him.

“What I know is that you have some disgusting, misogynistic bet going to have sex with me. Well, good luck with that. Because it’s never going to happen.”

She moved to storm past him and out of the bathroom, surprised when he actually moved out of her way. It was the only reason she hesitated when he called after her.

“I know you have no reason to trust me, Caroline, but please give me a chance to explain what you heard.”

She scoffed and continued walking away.

Down the hall, her phone buzzed in her pocket. A quick check revealed it was a message from Klaus.

You have my number if you change your mind.

Shaking her head she shoved her phone back in her pocket.

Caroline sipped her coffee, basking in one of the rare mornings that her mom was still home for breakfast.

“I’m not supposed to tell you this, but I want you to be careful. I know you’ve spent some time with the Mikaelson boy recently.”

Jerking, Caroline moved her mug away from her face, having nearly spilt it into her lap.

“What?”

Her mom had a slightly irritated expression on her face as she elaborated. “It’s vexing, but the Mikaelson’s are incredibly wealthy and generous donors. Carol didn’t want to make waves. Even though he’s eighteen he just got suspended rather than charged with anything.”

This was not clearing anything up, and she spluttered, “What? Charged?”

Frowning her mom continued, “They really did do a good job keeping it under wraps if you haven’t heard. Klaus beat several of his teammates bloody. Not enough to actually break anything, but they’ll be absent for a few days.”

Tightening her grip on her mug to hide the slight tremor of her fingers, she asked, “When did this happen?”

“Last week.”

“...What day?”

Her mother looked concerned. “Wednesday, why?”

Caroline tried for nonchalance. “No reason. It’s just I realized that’s why I hadn’t seen him around in school.”

“You’re not seeing him are you?” Her mother inquired sharply.

“No, of course not. I barely know him.”

She still looked suspicious, but for once Caroline was grateful for her mom’s busy schedule as she had to hurry out the door a few moments later. A final warning given as she left.

Monday passed in a blur, Caroline’s thoughts tumbling like a whirlwind. Wednesday was the day she broke up with Tyler…

“Thank you for-”

Caroline held up a hand. “Stop. Just tell me what happened.”

Recrossing her arms, she kept her expression blank and waited.

Klaus shifted, running a hand through his curls, muttering a quiet ‘right’ to himself. After a moment he steadied himself, looking her directly in the eye as he spoke.

“I admit there was a bet. Which wasn’t very well done of me, but it was not as crude as to include having sex with you. I was only meant to talk to you, convince you to like me. They thought you were stuck up and well, bitchy.” He paused seeming to catch the way her mask faltered for a second, but had the decency to not mention it. “I, well, I did too at first, but then I spoke to you. Discovered you were beautiful, strong, full of light I couldn’t help but enjoy your presence.”

Caroline cleared her throat, “And the rumors?”

He shook his head. “I had no idea about those either, swee- Caroline. Apparently, some of them were taunting Lockwood. Alluding to the bet without admitting what it was, making everything seem far worse than it was.”

She stepped a bit closer. “So you say. Then why did I hear, how was it put? Ah yes, have you fucked Miss Head Bitch yet?” Caroline kept her voice steely despite how the words felt like acid in her mouth.

His expression darkened before his eyes fluttered closed, a pained grimace on his face.

“No wonder you thought so poorly of me…” He muttered. Reopening his eyes, he too took a step closer.

“I don’t know why he decided to say that. I don’t know how the minds of such scum function, but I assure you he paid for it.”

“So my mom told me.”

Klaus startled, weight shifting back on his heel. “You know.”

Caroline cocked a brow. “Why did you think I gave you this chance in the first place? It certainly wasn’t trust.”

“...You approve?”

A scoff. “Of your caveman tendencies toward violence? No, not at all.” Her expression softened a tad. “But I do appreciate the sentiment.”

His eyes traced over her face as he weighed her words, and he tentatively moved forward again, extending his hand while looking hesitantly hopeful.

“Friends, then?”

Her eyes flickered down to look at it before returning his gaze. She paused, long enough that he started to falter, before taking his hand in hers.

“Probationary. So don’t screw up again, Mikaelson.” She offered him a slight lip quirk.

His face lit up before he managed to school it into a more casual smirk.

“I can work with that, sweetheart.”

AN: I’m pretty pleased with how this went considering I often struggle with Human AU focused ideas. I hope you enjoy it!

[emospritelet]

For Dark Heart, prompting #99: “This was fun— Lets do it again sometime!” and also #150: “What on earth are you wearing?” (Sending two in case someone's already sent one of them. You can choose whichever strikes your fancy.)

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7] [Part 8] [Part 9] [Part 10] [Part 11] [Part 12] [Part 13] [Part 14] [Part 15] [Part 16] [Part 17] [Part 18] [Part 19] [Part 20] [Part 21] [Part 22] [Part 23]

AO3 link

Belle had felt bad for snapping at Gold over things that weren’t really his fault, especially when there were other, far more appropriate reasons to snap at him, and she resolved to try to be civil with him when she returned to the house that evening.  For his part, he greeted her calmly, if a little cautiously, and she swept Gideon up into her arms for a hug while he made a start on the dinner.

“I’m doing herb-crusted salmon,” he said, glancing over his shoulder at her as he took a roasting tin from the cupboard.  “Fine beans, potatoes and a white wine and cream sauce.  Is that okay?”

“Sounds delicious,” she said, and after he turned away she added.  “I - I haven’t eaten this well in maybe two years.”

Gold turned back with a tiny smile twitching at the corners of his mouth.

“Well, you’re welcome to stay as long as you like,” he said.

She didn’t know what to say to that, having already said she would move out when her father came out of hospital, but the tension between them had eased, and so she sent him a brief smile.  He poured her a glass of wine, and she carried it out to sit on the back porch with Gideon in her arms, bouncing him on her knee as he played with a colourful plastic rattle.  She took a sip of her wine, and her phone buzzed in her pocket.  Belle put down her glass, fishing it out and smiling as she saw who was calling.

“Hey.”  Emma’s voice crackled a little.  “Thought I’d give you a chance to find your feet.  How’s your dad?”

“He’s a little better,” said Belle.  “In hospital for longer than I thought, though.  He comes out Friday.”

“And Gideon?” she asked.  “How’s he dealing with the change of scene?”

“Water off a duck’s back,” said Belle dryly.  “You know how he is.  Everyone’s been fussing over him, so he’s in his element.”

Emma chuckled a little, but then fell silent.

“What about you?” asked Belle, wanting to avoid the inevitable question she could sense floating around in Emma’s mind.  “Did Henry get that part in the play?”

“Oh, it wasn’t an acting part he wanted,” said Emma.  “He’s on the writing team.  Chief dramatist, he likes to call himself.  Little guy’s gonna be a screenwriter or something, Neal says.”

“Well, he has the imagination for it,” said Belle.

“Uh-huh.  Speaking of drama, are you gonna tell me what else happened in the past week?”

Belle sighed, hugging Gideon a little closer.

“Well, he knows,” she said dryly.

“How’d that go?”

Belle shook her head.

“Badly.  I mean - things are better now, but he was furious.”

“Well, you knew that would be a possibility,” said Emma frankly.  “We talked about it.  Extensively.”

“I know, I know.”  Belle rubbed at her eye with the heel of her hand.  “I shouldn’t have put things off for as long as I did.  Neal was right, I - I should have told him sooner.”

“Hey, you were scared!” protested Emma.  “And from what you told us, you had good reason!  Guy was an asswipe!”

“Yeah,” said Belle, her tone wry.  “He absolutely was.”

“But you said it’s getting better?”

“Yeah.”  Belle kissed Gideon’s head, breathing in his scent.  “He’s been - he’s really trying.  He’s taking care of Gideon while I work the shop - seriously, he’s so good with him!  He’s a natural!”

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line.

“You had sex with him, didn’t you?” said Emma accusingly, and Belle blushed.

“What?” she protested.  “I - I never said that!”

“Well, now I know you had sex with him,” snickered Emma, and Belle groaned.

“Look, it was an accident, okay?” she sighed.  “We yelled a lot, and emotions got the better of us.  Can you just keep it to yourself?”

“Your secret’s safe with me, babe,” she said.  “Neal says hi, by the way.  And not to do anything he wouldn’t.  Guess we’re a little late for that.”

“Oh, you’re hilarious,” said Belle dryly, as Emma cackled.

The sound of a rhythmic tapping and Gold’s uneven tread approached, and she looked around as he appeared on the porch with his own glass of wine in his hand.

“Look, I gotta go,” she said.  “I’ll call you, okay?”

“Sure thing.  Try not to bang your babydaddy too hard.”

Belle rolled her eyes, amused, and swiped at the phone to hang up.  Gold lowered himself into the chair beside her, taking a sip of wine.

“How was your day?” he asked carefully, and she shrugged.

“Quieter than I would have liked, but I broke even,” she said.  “You?”

“A couple of small loans and someone buying a piece of jewellery, that’s all,” he said dismissively.  “I - uh - I spoke to Dove, by the way.  He says the house will be ready to move into on Thursday.  Cleaning the basement took longer than he thought.”

“Oh, that actually works out well,” she said.  “Dad comes out Friday.  I spoke to Dr Whale.”

Gideon wriggled in her arms, grumbling, and she let him slip to the floor, holding onto one of his hands as he found his balance.  He glanced around, lower lip protruding, then wandered over and slapped his hands on Gold’s knees, burbling at him.

“You want a tour of the garden?” asked Gold, and set down his wine glass.

Belle watched as he got the cane underneath himself and pushed to his feet, picking up Gideon in the crook of an arm and carrying him down the wooden steps to the garden.  Gold set him down, taking his hand and walking slowly along the neat strip of grass between the flower beds.  He was talking to Gideon as they went, telling him the names of the flowers in a low, gentle voice, and Gideon stopped to sniff one, beaming up at Gold and getting a soft-eyed smile in return.  Belle leaned back in her chair, an unfamiliar feeling of contentment flowing over her.  He clearly wanted to make things work with their son.  Perhaps it would be okay.  Perhaps they could be friends.

Tuesday morning dawned with a blue and hazy sky, the air already warm and filled with the chirps of birds and the lazy drone of insects.  Gold found himself drinking his morning coffee with only Gideon for company, and had just about finished feeding his son breakfast when Belle hurried downstairs looking stressed, a bundle of clothes in her arms and her hair a wonderfully tangled mess.

“I can’t believe I overslept!” she fretted.  “You should have woken me!”

“You have plenty of time,” he said calmly.  “What would you like to eat?”

“Oh, I don’t know…”  She cast her eyes about, chewing her lip.  “You mind if I do some laundry?”

“Of course not,” he said.  “You didn’t need to ask.  Out of clean things?”

“I - I lost track of the days,” she said vaguely.  “Didn’t realise I’d gone through everything I packed until this morning.  Gideon still has some clean stuff, though.”

“Everything you need is under the sink.”

She stuffed the armful of clothing into the washing machine, adding liquid and softener before turning it on.

“I know it won’t be done before I go to work…” she began, looking harassed.

“I can take it out and hang it up to dry,” he said calmly.  “Sit down, let me make you some breakfast.”

“In a minute…”  She swept her hair out of her eyes.  “I can’t believe I didn’t think about bloody laundry!”

“Why don’t you just go and get Gideon ready?” he suggested.  “I’ll make you eggs on toast, and I can deal with the laundry while you’re at work.  I won’t spontaneously combust if I have to handle your underwear.”

She shot him a flat look at that, a hint of amusement in her eyes, and bent to sweep Gideon up in her arms.

“Let’s get you ready, young man,” she said firmly, and he belched, throwing up partly-digested porridge over her shirt.  Belle groaned, raising her eyes to the ceiling as Gideon started to cry.

“I don’t believe this…”

“His timing is impeccable,” observed Gold, and she sighed, stomping out of the room and up the stairs, the sound of Gideon’s wailing floating back down.

Gold grinned to himself, getting up to wipe down Gideon’s chair and wash the breakfast dishes.  His eyes flicked to the clock on the wall.  Gone eight o’clock.  It wouldn’t matter if he was a little late opening the shop.  He could stick around until Belle’s laundry was done, catch up on a little paperwork, check his emails.  The paternity test results were due to arrive that day, and nerves were digging at him, whispering snide words in his mind.  He had slept poorly, knowing the test results wouldn’t be out until office hours, but unable to rest despite that, and he hoped he wouldn’t have to wait all day.

He had not mentioned his visit to Dr Hopper to Belle, largely because he was still trying to process what the doctor had said for himself.  While he had finally admitted that he needed outside help if they were to build a good relationship, he was by no means certain that he was capable of doing what Dr Hopper suggested.  He intended to try, though.  Just as soon as it was confirmed that Gideon was his.

The sound of feet on the stairs made him look around, and Belle swept into the kitchen with Gideon in her arms, both of them changed into clean things.  Gold blinked, his mouth falling open.  She was wearing a blue silk shirt, tied in a knot at her waist with the sleeves rolled up.  The colour brought out her eyes, the deep pink of her lips and the pale perfection of her skin, and he couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away.

“Is that my shirt?” he asked, and she glanced over, bouncing Gideon in her arms.

“I hope you don’t mind,” she said apologetically.  “I had literally nothing else to wear.”

“I…  Of course not, no,” he managed.  “Raid my wardrobe as much as you please.”

“Thank you.”

She smiled, kissing Gideon’s head, and flicked her eyes across to meet his.

“You sure you’re okay to have him this morning?” she asked.  “I’ll go visit Dad this afternoon, take Gideon to see him.”

“Fine with me,” he said.  “Why don’t we have lunch at the diner?”

Belle’s smile widened.

“I’d like that.”

Lunch at Granny's had been pleasant, Belle opting for the chicken Caesar salad instead of her usual burger.  The day was hot, and she walked into the coolness of the hospital’s air-conditioned corridors with a sigh of relief.  Her father was sitting up, drinking a cup of tea, and his eyes narrowed as he looked her over.

“What on earth are you wearing?” he grumbled, and Belle looked down.

“Oh - it’s laundry day,” she said, feeling a little self-conscious.  “Gideon threw up on me, so I borrowed one of Alex’s shirts.”

“Getting kind of domestic, aren’t you?” he said sourly.  “Why are you still at his house, anyway?”

“Because yours was a shithole, that’s why,” she said tartly.  “It’ll be clean by the time you get out of here, and I’ll be moving in, too.

“I don’t want him slithering back into your life.”

“It’s just a shirt, Dad.”

He grunted at that, and Belle sighed to herself, picking Gideon up out of the stroller and sitting down with him on her lap.  He was sleepy after his lunch, head lolling against her, and she kissed his forehead gently as he slipped into a doze.

“Are we still on for Friday?” she asked, and Moe nodded.

“Dr Whale had me up and about today,” he said.  “Weak as a bloody kitten, I am.”

“Well, he said to expect that,” said Belle.  “You’ll get better.”

He grunted again, as though he doubted it.

“How are things at the shop?”

“A little slow the past couple of days,” she admitted.  “Not sure everyone knows we’re open again.  I thought I might make an announcement at Granny’s, or something.”

“There are a couple of weddings this month, if I remember rightly,” he said.

“Yeah, I saw the orders,” she said.  “I’ve asked the supplier for extra peonies, and I just hope I can make the arrangements to your standard.”

“Phone me with that video app thing you’ve got and I can talk you through it,” he said, and she nodded, relieved.

“I’m gonna have to shorten the opening hours when I’m looking after you,” she added.  “Any more word on how long that’s likely to be?”

“Couple of weeks, Whale said.”  Moe finished his tea.  “I guess you’re wanting to get back to Boston, huh?”

Belle hesitated.

“Of course.”

“Nothing to keep you in this town once I’m back to rights, is there?”

“Sounds like you want to get rid of me,” she teased, and his mouth flattened.

“I think you did the right thing when you left,” he said.  “There’s no future for you here.  You or the kid.”

“You’ll come and see us though, right?” she asked.  “And - and Alex says he wants to bring Gideon here, on alternate weekends.  He’ll want to see his grandpa as he gets older.”

“What, you think that man’ll let me have a relationship with my grandson?”  Moe sounded bitter.  “Probably spend all his time trying to poison his mind against me.”

Belle frowned.

“He wouldn’t do that,” she said sharply.  “And of course you’ll have a relationship with Gideon!  I haven’t worked out any of the details of how we’re gonna do this, but we’ve been waiting for the test results to come back before we decided anything.”

Moe’s eyes widened.

“He made you get a bloody paternity test?  Of all the bloody nerve!”

“It’s necessary if we want to formalise anything,” she said.  “Stop getting insulted on my behalf!”

Moe looked away with a scowl, and Belle rolled her eyes.  Getting the two men in her life to even be civil to one another was going to be an uphill struggle.

Gold had felt his anxiety grow as the day wore on, increasing with every minute that there was no email letting him know the result of the test.  His laptop was open on the workbench, and he checked it every time it made the noise that signalled a new message, hands shaking in anticipation before the inevitable disappointment at finding another spam email.  By the time three o’clock came, he was on the verge of calling the company he had sent the sample to, and started the restoration of an antique lantern to try to take his mind off things.

The computer beeped again, and Gold looked up, swiping with his finger at the touchpad and telling himself not to get his hopes up.  His heart thumped when he saw the sender of the email, and he licked his lips, opening up the message.  He read it over three times before sitting back, letting out the breath he had been holding with a sigh of relief.  Not that he had doubted it, not really, but this proved it.  Gideon was his son.  A smile played across his face, and he felt a surge of emotion go through him.  He would get to be a father, get to do everything he had missed out on with Bae.  He would get to see his son grow up, be a meaningful part of his life.  And he would have a good relationship with his mother.  He was determined to make that work.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he fished it out, his smile widening as he saw Ella’s name pop up.  His thumb swiped at the screen to answer.

“You always did have good timing,” he said.

“Alexander.”  Ella’s drawling voice oozed out of the phone.  “How are you, darling?”

“I was about to call you,” he said.  “The test result.  It’s positive.”

“Well then, I imagine congratulations are in order,” she said, and he smiled.

“I’ll need you to make a start on what we discussed,” he added.

“I’ve already drafted the deed of trust,” she said.  “I’ll email it over and you can have a look.  I suggest coming in to finalise the rest, if you’re able to get down to Boston.”

“I need to speak to Belle, first,” he said.  “I think it’s best I let her know what I’m proposing for our son.”

“You think she’ll object?  She’d be a fool to.”

“No, I don’t think that,” he said.  “I just - I don’t want her to feel that I’ve gone behind her back and not consulted her, that’s all.”

“Hmm.  Very well.”

There was a moment of silence.

“I looked into your Belle French, by the way,” she said.  “Very interesting indeed.”

Gold sat down on the stool, his heart thumping.

“Tell me.”

[their-destinys-writer]

Caged - Chapter 12

Rated: Teen

Chapter: 12/?

Word Count: 11,523

Ao3 / FFnet / Wattpad

A/N: Celebrating over 1,200 kudos in Ao3, with an extra long chapter and a surprise in the end. Enjoy!

PS: There’s a link in the chapter of an art by @edendaphne that inspired me to write that scene. Be sure to check out their art too. And remember the art came first.

Caged Chapter 12 - Laying it All Out

“Ch-Ch-Ch-Chaaat?” Marinette stuttered, dropping the spray that was in her hand.

“Long time, no see,” Chat Noir smirked, hands on his hips. “Well, half an hour, to be more precise. And who’s your friend here?” He leaned towards Félix.

Marinette looked to her side, where Félix had turned whiter than a sheet of paper.

“Uh…” the boy uttered.

“You know, I couldn’t help but overhear while I was passing by something about -oh, what was it- ‘Qualities befitting of a Princess’?” Chat Noir clucked his tongue. “Now, I don’t know if you’ve been watching TV lately, but I have a pet peeve about people using the nicknames I assign to people. Something about it just,” he exaggerated a deep breath, “really prickles my fur.”

What is going on?! Marinette started to panic.

“Chat?”

“I-I…” Félix cleared his throat. “I didn’t think…”

“You didn’t think what?” The leather-clad hero placed a foot on the bench and leaned closer to the civilian, forearms now resting on his knee. “That you would be caught? That I would never find out?”

“Chat.” This time, Marinette called with a frown on her face.

“And a little mouse told me this isn’t the first time you’ve used that nickname. Is it a habit of yours to try to take other people’s place?”

“Chat Noir!” Marinette called firmly this time.

The superhero whipped his gaze to her, like he remembered Félix was not the only one sitting on that bench. When his eyes locked on hers, her heart did a summersault, remembering her conversation with Tikki before either of the boys showed up. Her cheeks started heating up, and when his eyes softened, she knew: Félix was not Chat Noir.

The girl bolted up to stand next to her partner. Her mind was going back and forth between her realization of Félix’s lie and her embarrassment at the thought that she might have feelings for Chat Noir. So much so, that she wasn’t sure on which one to act first.

“You—Him—Whah…Félix? Chat? You…” Spit it out! Her brain tried to salvage what was left of those words, but her mouth just wouldn’t cooperate. “Going what on—I-I mean, on going on—M-mean I—Uuugh!”

Both boys arched an eyebrow simultaneously, as Marinette pulled on her pigtails.

“WHAT IS GOING ON?!” she finally managed to get out.

Instantly, Félix shifted his eyes to the ground, while Chat Noir smirked at him.

“Yeah,” the boy in black inquired. “What is going on, Félix?”

Marinette looked back at obviously-not-Chat Félix, who visibly gulped. Meanwhile, his knuckles were becoming whiter, as he squeezed a book he was holding.

“Oh no…” the designer breathed.

“Marinette, I swear it’s not what you think,” Félix spoke at last, yet it came out shaky, which she had never heard from him.

“Why do you call me Princess?” Marinette demanded.

“You knew, didn’t you?” Chat Noir intervened. “You knew that’s the nickname I use for her, so you tried to take advantage.”

“Not…take advantage,” Félix tried feebly.

“I will have you know I’m the only one allowed to use that name,” the hero insisted, pointing a thumb to himself. “Now unless you want me to beat your butt to the moon, I suggest you apologize to Marinette right now.”

“Wait—” the designer arched an eyebrow, bewildered.

“What are you asking me to apologize for?” Félix asked. “For misleading Marinette or for hurting your ego?”

“Félix, that’s—”

“How about for being a prick?” Chat Noir snarled, grabbing the front of the blond’s shirt and lifting him off the bench.

“Chat, stop!”

“And you call yourself a superhero?” Félix spat.

“Don’t encourage—”

“At least I’m the real deal, unlike your sorry—”

“Stop!” Marinette yelled, finally catching the attention of the two boys.

Félix took the opportunity to push Chat Noir off. With a huff, he turned tail and stomped away. From beside the designer, the leather-clad hero huffed in victory, saying: “Good riddance.”

“Chat!” Marinette scolded, turning back to him.

“What?” the boy raised his hands in a questioning manner. “I just don’t like it when—”

“I don’t care what you don’t like, that was rude!” the girl shot back.

Chat Noir opened his mouth to say something, but suddenly hesitated. Their silence was enough for them to take a moment to look around themselves. Just as expected, several people had stopped walking. One of them was holding up a phone, like they were recording.

Marinette cleared her throat. As nonchalantly as possible, she grabbed the spray bottle from the ground and started walking away from view, adding a whistle for good measure. From behind her, she heard Chat Noir clank against the ground. Probably leaping away from the scene. After passing several trees, she looked behind to check if she was still being watched. To her relief, the crowd went back to whatever they were doing before.

She had just let out a breath of relief, when a black blur landed in front of her, making her yelp.

“Rude?” Chat Noir questioned. “How is me calling out a liar ‘rude’?”

“You could’ve gone about it better,” Marinette reasoned. “Didn’t Ladybug make that mistake before?”

“And how would you know about that?”

Marinette’s eye twitched. “I-I, uh… Lila told me,” she said, the first excuse she could think of.

“Right,” Chat Noir said under his breath. “She’s practically told anyone who gives her their time.”

The designer bit her lip to suppress a sigh. Almost instantly, she shook her head, trying to remember her outrage with the boy’s attitude.

“Anyway, you remember in what that resulted in, right?”

Chat Noir winced. “But he was calling you Princess,” he tried defending himself.

“So?” Marinette snapped. “I know it’s annoying, but I think you’re gonna have to learn to deal with it. Thanks to the press, everybody knows you call me that. But what I don’t understand is why you lost it with Félix, when you were so cool-headed earlier with Anabelle.”

“I-I—” Chat Noir started, but faltered almost instantly. He then proceeded to fiddle his fingers together.

Marinette crossed her arms, the spray bottle hanging loose from her fingers. “I don’t get it. What is up with you lately? You’ve been so jumpy and weird. It’s like you go from zero to a hundred in an instant.”

“I-I haven’t… I mean… It’s complicated,” the boy whispered.

The way his cat ears drooped made Marinette soften. Could it be that thing he wouldn’t tell her about?

“Chat, is there a problem with us?”

“Us?! There’s no us!” the boy blurted out. But the second the words got out, he cringed, just as Marinette frowned. “I-I mean, not an us-us, you know?” he tried to amend, bewildering the girl more in the process. “Not like relationship-us, just friends-us. Not us-us, like…us. Just… us—Man, is it hot in here?” He added the last part as he pulled on his collar.

“Oookay,” she arched an eyebrow at the display. “You mind telling me what the heck is really going on?”

“Nothing is going—”

“Don’t,” Marinette warned, poking a finger to his chest. “First you tell me there’s something you can’t tell me. Then you get all jumpy and awkward. Then you go from being incapable of saying a word on live TV to saying too much. And now, you blew up on a civilian.” She flailed her arms. “And I don’t even know what to make of that last one! It was so bizarre, and you can’t even give me a proper explanation. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were jealous of Félix.”

A large gulp of breath was taken by Chat Noir. A silence hung between the two for a moment, and in that time, the boy’s visible skin became red at an alarming rate. Marinette’s eyes went wide, registering her partner’s reaction to her words. There was no witty remark. No pun. No joke. Just a whole lot of blushing, which she had never seen before. That couldn’t mean…?

“Chat—?”

“Heh, no, you’re right,” Chat Noir finally blurted out, scratching the back of his head. “I’m sorry, that was bad, I shouldn’t have done that, totally uncalled for—”

“Chat?”

“—and very unsuperhero of me. Should I look for him? I should look for him and apologize. Yeah, that sounds about—”

“Chat!” Marinette grabbed him by the shoulders, the spray hitting one of them. Chat Noir froze, staring at the designer. She looked at him for a moment, trying to find the answer to her question before asking it again. “Are… Are you jealous?”

“Psh,” Chat Noir let out, his lips vibrating. “Me? Jealous? I don’t get jealous. Why would I be jealous? I have no reason to be jealous. Jealousy is not in me. Not once have I ever—”

“Copycat,” Marinette deadpanned, remembering how he had once told her the story on how Theo was truly akumatized.

The boy started chewing on his lip, the blush becoming impossibly darker. For Copycat, he had been jealous of Theo. Of course, he loved Ladybug. But why would he be jealous of Félix? Unless… No. He can’t be—

WOOSH

A sudden, strong gust of wind blew by the tree they were nearby, causing it to become leafless. Both Marinette and Chat Noir stared at it, baffled. It wasn’t… normal.

“Oh no,” Marinette said under her breath.

“Look out!” Chat Noir suddenly yelled. At the same time, he grabbed the girl’s hand, making the spray bottle fly off it, and pulled her just in time to avoid a large, magical word that hit the ground. Thankfully, nothing seemed to get destroyed, the word vanishing the moment it missed its target. Even so, Marinette remained within the arms that now surrounded her.

“Always rescuing each other,” a cold voice said nearby, somewhere… above? “How romantic.”

Marinette looked up to the direction of the voice. Floating in midair was a blond boy, dressed in a loose, grey buttoned shirt, dark green pants and black boots, all with a seventeenth century design to it. Over his face, he had a butterfly shaped mask, with his eyes completely white. And his blond hair was loose and wild.

Félix.

“What’ve I done?” Chat Noir said under his breath next to Marinette.

“Chat, we gotta run,” the designer warned her partner, already starting to pull on his bell. “RUN!”

Just then, the akumatized Félix waved his hand and a collection of words flew by and hit the tree previously de-leafed. As the pair of heroes ran past it, three holes cracked open on the tree trunk, creating a jagged face. The newly sentient plant suddenly swung its branches towards them, almost scratching Marinette. Luckily, Chat Noir pulled her his way on time.

“In there!” the leather-clad hero called, pointing towards the alley close by.

Yet, suddenly, words started crashing on the building next to them, sending concrete and dust flying about. They managed to dodge it and turned to enter, just as the last words flew towards them. In a swift movement, Chat Noir pulled Marinette towards him and pressed her against the wall, just as the words hit the corner. In the process, Marinette let out a painful groan, as a new bump formed on the back of her head.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt?” Chat Noir fussed, checking for injuries where the girl had started to rub.

“I’m fine, just a light hit on the head.”

The boy deflated in relief. Softly, he tucked a loose hair behind her ear, and opened his mouth, like he was about to say something. But instead, he did something, before Marinette could register what was going on:

Time froze. Marinette knew there was much going on around them, but for her, it seemed the seconds decided to stop ticking. Chat Noir’s lips were on the side of her head, making warmth flow from that point to the rest of her, especially her cheeks. It wasn’t like that quick kiss on the cheek she gave him once. It was more like a kiss that wanted to reassure her that everything will be alright. That, as a person who cared so much about her, wanted to make sure she was safe.

The warmth stopped, and time ran again. Yet Marinette could only stand there, staring at the boy before her.

“Please stay safe, and try not to go heroic again,” Chat Noir said, finishing it with a wink. Immediately after, he stepped back and used his staff to vault closer to the akuma.

In the meantime, Marinette continued to stare after him for several seconds.

…

“Okay,” she wistfully breathed, a dopey smile curving her lips.

“Marinette!” a small voice scolded. “You’re a superhero, remember?”

The bubble popped…

What. Was. THAT?!

The girl’s eyes went wide. Quickly, she lightly slapped her cheeks in an effort to pull herself together from… whatever that was just now.

“Right! Rightrightright,” Marinette reminded herself, now rubbing her cheeks. “Okay. Tikki, transform me!”

One flash of pink light later, Ladybug was swinging out of the alley, back to the park. But stopped when she saw a familiar bottle left forgotten on the ground. She swung low enough to grab it, and then pushed herself in the direction of her balcony. The second she got there, she placed it on the small table. After making sure it was safe, she jumped away, back to where the action was supposed to be.

With only a brief look, she found Chat Noir fighting two civilians that seemed to have gotten possessed. Immediately, her body sprang into hero-mode, managing to knock out both people with her yo-yo.

“Nice to see you, LB!” Chat Noir cheerfully greeted, with that adorable toothy—

…

Toothy grin of his…

Ladybug blanched. Her brain started to scurry in circles, questioning what was going on with her thought process. Could Tikki be right? From white, her face turned red now, and her lips pressed together.

“Ladybug, what’s wrong?”

It wasn’t until then that the flustered hero realized Chat Noir was only a foot away from her, giving her a concerned look. Ladybug yelped.

“Me?! Nothing’s wrong! Why would anything be wrong? I have no reason to be wrong— Wait, what did I just say?” Ladybug rambled.

“Uuuh,” Chat Noir uttered. “Did the akuma hit you on the head or something?”

“No! That’s not what…” Ladybug let out a defeated sigh. “Let’s just get this done.”

Without another word, she started searching for Félix. Hadn’t he been around just moments ago?

“You forget that I can read you like an open book, LB,” Chat Noir purred.

Ladybug stopped on her tracks. “Only been here five seconds and you’ve already started with the puns,” she chuckled.

“It’d be a pretty boring story if I didn’t,” he quipped.

She snorted. “Please, Chat. You’re more than jokes and puns.”

“Nice of you to notice,” Chat Noir grinned, slightly leaning towards her.

“Y-yeah,” Ladybug stuttered, taking a step back. “A-anyway, where’s the akuma?”

“He kinda bailed when he possessed those two civilians,” the cat-themed hero explained, placing a hand on his chin. “Almost like he was looking for something.”

“Probably for Marinette,” the spotted heroine muttered.

Instantly, Chat Noir whipped his head towards her, eyes the size of dinner plates.

“Marinette!”

“No, wait!” Ladybug managed to grab her partner’s tail just in time before he fully ran off. “She’s safe. There’s no way he can find her.”

“How can you be so sure of that? Ugh.” Chat Noir slammed a hand on his forehead. “This is all my fault. I just couldn’t leave it alone, could I?”

“Well… Wait, no,” Ladybug shook her head. “This isn’t your fault. This is all Hawkmoth’s doing. Don’t beat yourself up.”

“No, you don’t understand,” Chat Noir said as he twirled to face her. “Even if Hawkmoth hadn’t been involved, I still messed up. If I hadn’t been so—” But the boy cut himself off, his cheeks taking a light shade of pink.

“If you hadn’t been what?” Ladybug pushed unconsciously.

“U-um, aaahhh…” Chat Noir scratched the back of his head.

But that was as far as he got, for the next second, a cone of ice cream landed on his shoulder, smearing his suit. As he let out a low ‘ew’, the two heroes scanned for the culprit, and found an ice cream man placing fresh dessert on a new cone. As if preparing ammunition.

“Possessed,” Ladybug let out as she pulled Chat Noir by the arm, avoiding another incoming sweet.

With a determined move with her yo-yo, the spotted heroine grabbed a pole on the ice cream cart and pulled it away from the man. As soon as the cart was near them, Chat Noir pushed it even further. But the action only angered the man. He took several swipes at them, but without his tasty weapons, he was much slower and easy to dodge. With one swing, Chat Noir hit the man’s head with his baton, knocking him unconscious.

“Ooohhh,” Ladybug and Chat Noir cringed in unison.

“Hope he comes out okay of that,” the boy commented.

“Where’s Marinette?!” A voice from above demanded.

The two heroes turned, looking up to the akuma’s floating figure, whom Chat Noir called ‘The Storyteller’ under his breath.

“Somewhere you can never find her,” Ladybug said triumphantly, not noticing her partner’s sigh of relief.

“Seems like you’re gonna have to settle for little-ol’-me,” Chat Noir quipped, pointing a thumb to himself.

Unfortunately for the pair, the joke was not well received. The Storyteller’s gaze became as hard as marble, and his hand started waving over the open book. In a matter of seconds, the word CRASH became legible. Simultaneously, Ladybug and Chat Noir gasped, jumping out of the way just in time before the word landed on the ground and dirt started flying all over the place.

Before they could catch their breaths, the akuma was already throwing new CRASH’s around the park, causing all kinds of destruction the duo of heroes hadn’t seen in a while. The two teens ran out to the street, headed to a café across it. Just as they were entering through the door, a deafening noise came from behind them. Ladybug looked back just in time to scream: “EVERYBODY DUCK!”

In a blur, everyone in the café crouched underneath their tables, while Ladybug tackled Chat Noir to the ground. Suddenly, the door and windows blew off their place, broken to shreds. Several people screamed. The second the dust settled, the employees started rushing people through the back of the establishment.

Meanwhile, Ladybug and Chat Noir were still lying on the floor. The heroine, on her part, was groaning, having hit her head for the second time that day. Somehow, on their way to the floor, Ladybug managed to twist them and land on her back, with Chat Noir on top of her.

“That was a rough landing,” the boy hissed.

Ladybug merely groaned, still blinking away the spots in her vision.

“Can you get up?” she heard Chat Noir say.

“In a second,” she responded. “I just need to—” But she stopped midsentence. It wasn’t until her vision finally cleared that she noticed the suggestive position they were in. And it seemed her partner was oblivious to it. She held in a squeak, before finally saying: “Yeap, I can get up.”

Quickly, the boy got on his feet and held out his hand. Ladybug accepted it almost instinctively.

“You okay?” she heard Chat Noir ask, while he helped her up.

“Yeah,” Ladybug groaned. “Just a regular day in the job, right?”

“Tell me about it,” Chat Noir sighed. “It’s been a while since I’ve been thrown around that hard, though.”

“Definitely. But you know there’s nothing we can’t—” But Ladybug stopped abruptly, noticing her hand felt oddly warm.

“Ladybug?” she heard Chat say.

Her eyes snapped down, finally noticing Chat Noir was still holding her hand from when he helped her to her feet. When Ladybug looked at him, he had just snapped his head up too, and quickly grinned, like he had done many times. Except this time, it sent a jolt through her body. By instinct, Ladybug yelped while pulling her hand away. Unfortunately for Chat Noir, the spotted hero accidentally hit his nose in her haste to remove her hand.

“Oh! I’m sorry!” Ladybug cringed. She then slapped a hand to her forehead. “Ugh. Why am I being so clumsy?”

“And here I always thought you hit me with your yo-yo on purpose,” Chat Noir quipped as he rubbed his nose.

But neither got a chance to discuss the subject further, due to tables suddenly moving by themselves to the sides of the café. From the broken entrance floated The Storyteller, calmly caressing his book.

“This story doesn’t have to end in tragedy,” he said, in his monotone voice. “Just give me your miraculous, and I can guarantee you two a happy ending.”

“Sorry, but I prefer writing my own story,” Ladybug quipped, taking a battle stance.

“We’ll see about that.” As The Storyteller said it, he opened the book and waved his hand to form the word MINION several times, in the end throwing them towards the back door of the café. Where four employees had just finished evacuating their clientele. “Minions, get me their miraculouses.”

“Looks like we’re about to be served an unhealthy meal, LB,” Chat Noir quipped, making a pose like hers.

“LB, Ladybug. LB, Ladybug. Whatever happened to My Lady?” Ladybug couldn’t help let slip.

Chat Noir frowned at her. “What?”

“I haven’t heard you call me that in weeks already,” she dared elaborate, with less shakiness than she felt. “You’re not losing your sense of humor, are you?”

“I’ve called you My Lady recently,” he defended.

“When?”

“Well…” But he trailed off, his eyes shifting, like he was seeking an answer. “There was that time…wait, no, that was a month—” his eyes suddenly became wide. “Oh my—”

But he was unable to finish that expression due to a plate he had to dodge. Ladybug whipped her head over her shoulder just in time to avoid another incoming plate from a possessed waitress. With the coming attacks, she started swinging her yo-yo rapidly, blocking the projectiles. Next to her, Chat Noir was doing the same with his staff.

“I can’t remember the last time I called you that!” he almost screeched. “I mean, not to your face. The last I remember, to you, was like a month ago, but I’m not sure.”

“Why did you stop?!” Ladybug shrieked, offended she had lost one of her nicknames.

“I don’t know!” Chat Noir admitted. “I mean, I guess it could be—MOVE!”

The leather-clad hero pushed them both just in time to avoid forks and knives coming from another waitress. In a swift move, they rolled under a table and turned it on its side, to use as a shield against the sharp cutlery.

“What were you saying?” Ladybug pushed.

But Chat Noir hesitated. “It’s…personal,” he said, at last.

“Personal?!” Ladybug couldn’t help but use an incredulous tone. “I don’t get it.”

“Look,” Chat Noir looked at her straight in the eyes. “I’ve been going through some things lately and I’m really confused, so I can’t give you a straight answer. And until I don’t come to a decision, I’m gonna have to keep a few extra secrets.”

“Oh,” Ladybug uttered, lips in the shape of the sound she just made. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay,” she nodded.

“Huh,” Chat Noir arched a brow. “That was easier than I—”

Once again, his words were cut off, this time when a larger and robust waiter lifted the table in which they were hiding over his head. With a loud growl, the man went to smash the piece of furniture on their heads, but the duo dodged it in the nick of time. They moved towards the counter, only to be ambushed by flying coffee cups thrown by the barista. Lucky for the heroes, they countered the attacks with their own weapons on time, sending coffee, milk and water all over the dining room.

“Careful!” the akuma suddenly barked.

Ladybug turned her head just in time to see The Storyteller desperately trying to clean the pages of the book. Realization struck her like lighting, and she pressed her back against her partner’s.

“Chat, I need a distraction long enough to call on Lucky Charm,” she said.

“Your wish is my command, partner,” Chat Noir responded. Almost immediately, Ladybug felt him slump. “I’m in so much trouble,” he mumbled.

But the heroine didn’t get the time to dwell on his words, for the next second he was drawing the attention of the possessed employees, long enough for her to call on her special power. The usual swirl of ladybugs emerged from her yo-yo, and a roll of fishing line appeared.

“Another great item to discover,” Ladybug muttered to herself, right before looking around the room. A look at the espresso machine and the akuma’s book later, she knew what to do.

“Chat, take this!” she ordered, giving the end of the line to her partner. Without another word, she ran to the machine and tied the other end to several of the hosepipes, blocking the liquids and putting pressure on it. “Pull!” she called.

In unison, the two heroes ran towards the exit. The Storyteller was about to follow them, but it was too late: water, milk and coffee grounds exploded all over the dining room, damaging the akuma’s book.

“What have you done?!” he bellowed, now running outside, trying to escape.

Unlucky for him, Ladybug was fast enough to wrap her yo-yo around his ankle and land him face-first against the concrete.

“It’s over, Félix,” the spotted heroine said, making her way to the akumatized object. “Your story has ended.”

As it was now the usual ritual, Ladybug broke the book in two, caught the akuma, purified it and bid it farewell. As for the Lucky Charm, Chat Noir brought what was left of it. With another ritualistic move, ladybugs flew about in the city, fixing everything damaged. And lastly, Félix was back to his usual, monotone self.

“Bien joué!” Chat Noir said, raising a fist for her to bump.

Yet Ladybug only stared at it, reminded of all the times she bumped that fist with a bare hand. Reminded about how much more he told Marinette, and not Ladybug. How, at this point, he was probably closer with her civilian identity than her hero identity.

And how she almost treated someone else the same way she treats him.

Her head whipped around to scowl at Félix, now sitting on his knees, looking embarrassed. Ladybug didn’t even notice when she had stomped her way to him, until she was standing only inches in front of him. In an impulsive move, she grabbed the front of his clothes and lifted him high enough that his feet dangled about a centimeter off the ground.

“Why did you do it?!” she demanded, ignoring Chat Noir’s shocked calls next to her.

While Félix stared with wide eyes at first, his gaze lowered in shame.

“I didn’t mean to hurt her,” he whispered. “I was just… lonely.”

Ladybug huffed. “That’s your excuse?”

“You don’t know what it’s like,” Félix snapped. “When you’re a public figure, people treat you like an untouchable idol. They expect you to be perfect and they change their views just to accommodate yours. They use you, they’re only friends with you to see what they can get out of you. So, when I saw how Marinette treated a celebrity, I…” Félix pursed his lips. “I got envious.

She was so down to earth with Chat Noir. She didn’t care about calling him on his mistakes, and even scolding him. Yet she still cares, enough to save him twice… I wanted that. I wanted a real friend, not followers or fans. I got… desperate.”

Ladybug’s look softened slightly. She could understand the sentiment: she’d heard Chat Noir complain about it many times, and also suspected Adrien went through the same thing. She also experienced it as Ladybug, every time Chloé asked for a selfie, without knowing she bullied the girl behind the mask.

But…

“Look, I can understand what you’re going through, but if you think I’m just gonna—” but she stopped abruptly when she felt a hand warm her shoulder.

“Let him go,” Chat said, quietly.

“But he—” Once again, she stopped midsentence when she turned her gaze to her partner.

“I know it was wrong,” he cleared up. “But I also know what it’s like to not be treated like an actual person.”

Ladybug’s breath slowed, remembering the stories Chat Noir had told her. The longing he had felt to be treated like a normal person. One of the main reasons he started visiting her as Marinette.

She sighed, but still held on to the boy’s shirt.

“I’ll let it slide for now, but it was still wrong for you to lie to Marinette about being Chat Noir,” she stated.

Félix gave her a puzzled look. “Um, I never told her I’m Chat Noir,” he spoke slowly. “I just acted like him a bit and hoped she would assume.”

The girl’s face contorted and her brain started running at a hundred miles per hour.

Now that he mentioned it… it was true. Not once did she ever stopped to think that she could be wrong, that she had been latching on to the wrong guy.

So much time that she had spent with Chat Noir, and she hadn’t been able to recognize when someone had been pretending to be him.

I’m a horrible friend.

Félix yelped when Ladybug dropped him on the floor, but she barely heard him. Her mind was too busy kicking herself for such a dumb mistake. How could she just assume?

I’m a terrible, horrible, awful friend, she mentally berated herself.

“Ladybug?” she heard Chat call her. But she merely waved her hand and started walking away.

It wasn’t until she heard the beeping from her earrings that she picked up the pace and ran to a nearby alley. She could still hear her partner calling, but decided to ignore him. Once in the alley, she stood behind a dumpster and let her transformation go.

“Marinette?” Tikki called, worried.

…

“OH MY GOSH!” Marinette snapped, slapping her hands to her forehead. “I can’t believe I thought he was Chat Noir!”

“Shh!” Tikki desperately shushed her.

“How could I just assume!” the girl started pacing. “Gah! I know Chat! I know he can be reckless, but he’s not an idiot. I’m an idiot!”

She kicked the dumpster in a surge of anger, but it only resulted in shooting pain up her big toe. Marinette hopped on one foot several times, cursing under her breath. But a faint giggle made her stop and scowl at her purse.

“Tikkiii,” she whined. “You’re laughing at my misery?”

“Sorry,” the kwami snickered, “but you can be so dramatic sometimes.”

Marinette gave the goddess a deadpan look. “You want dramatic?”

Before Tikki could answer, the girl shut her purse and started marching to her house.

No. She was not facing Chat Noir or Félix. She was not about to make further fool of herself. She was going to go home and scream into a pillow.

“Marinette?”

Nope. Home. Pillow.

Marinette sped up, ignoring Chat Noir’s calls coming from the park. Just as she heard his staff clank against the pavement behind, she ducked into the door to her apartment building, and closed it on the superhero’s face.

“Marinette, what the hell?” he called from the other side.

“There’s no Marinette here,” she called back, leaning against the door. “Just a terrible person who can’t recognize her own friend.”

There was a pause.

“Wait, you’re not mad at me?” Chat spoke again, sounding bewildered.

“Of course I’m mad at you!” she snapped. “But I’m madder at myself. I can’t believe I assumed he was you. I’m an idiot!”

“Hey, no, don’t do that to yourself,” he tried to sooth her. “It was and honest mistake. It could’ve happened to anybody.”

“But it happened to me!” Marinette whined.

“Come out here, so we can talk about this.”

“No!” she stubbornly refused. “I’m going to crawl in a hole and die of shame. Bye Chat! It was nice knowing ya!”

With those last words, Marinette marched up the stairs, ignoring Chat’s calls. Her focus was solely on that pillow up in her room, where she could scream her lungs out.

“Marinette! Urgh!” Chat Noir gave an exasperated growl, his hands pulling at his hair. “Why am I surrounded by stubborn girls?”

“You should’ve seen her when she found out about Lila’s lie,” Félix commented. Chat Noir gave him a deadpan look.

“Why are you still here?” he said.

“I’m worried, too,” Félix defended. He then looked up to the building. “Is she gonna be okay?”

“Yeah,” Chat sighed, also turning his gaze to the building. “She’s just being dramatic. She’s probably in her room, waiting for me to knock.”

“Would you tell her I want to apologize to her?”

Chat’s eye twitched.

“Okay, let’s get something straight here,” he started, raising his index fingers, “you and I,” he pointed back and forth between Félix and himself, “we are not friends, and I am not doing you any favors.”

“Whatever happened to ‘I know what it feels like’?” Félix crossed his arms.

“I didn’t want Ladybug to go too hard on you, doesn’t mean I want you sticking around.”

“What is your problem with me? It’s not like I straight up lied to her.”

“No, but you implied the lie, and then got all chummy with her.”

Félix frowned. “It almost sounds like you’re jealous.”

“Yes, I am. Got a problem with that?” Chat snapped, without missing a beat.

Félix blinked, while Chat Noir glared at him. At this point, the superhero couldn’t care less about what that guy thought of him. He just wanted the imposter to go away.

“So you lied in the Margot and Dorian Show?”

“Are you trying to call me out?”

“No, no—”

“Because I think you’re the last person—”

“I just find it interesting—”

“—who has the right—”

“—because it sounded so believable—”

“—to call me out on a lie.”

“—even Marinette believed it.”

They went quiet. Chat Noir stared with wide eyes, registering Félix’s last words. Finally, the civilian boy sighed.

“I highly advice you tell Marinette,” he said.

“And why should I take advice from you?” Chat Noir crossed his arms.

“I’m not a monster,” Félix defended himself once more. “I gave into desperation and made a mistake. But I’m not an idiot.” He deepened his gaze. “Tell her. You’ll thank me later.”

With those last words, he walked past Chat Noir, bumping into his shoulder. Chat stared after him.

Thank him? Why would I thank him? The boy pondered for a moment. If anything, she’ll reject me saying that she likes… well, me. Unless…

Chat Noir’s gaze snapped up to the little he could see of her balcony. He had no reason to believe in Félix. If anything, that guy could be setting a trap for him, knowing full well Marinette didn’t like his superhero persona. At least, not that way. If only he could remember what they had been talking about before he intervened earlier.

With an exasperated sigh, he stuck the metal staff on the ground and lifted himself up to the top of the building. Once on the small terrace, he placed the baton back in its place and looked down at the latch on the ground. As much as he wanted to figure out if Félix’s ‘advice’ was any good, perhaps this wasn’t the time.

TOC, TOC

“Marinette,” Chat called, but no response. He knocked again, and this time, a muffled ‘no’ responded. He chuckled. “Come on, it wasn’t that bad.”

The trapdoor opened a sliver, only Marinette’s bangs and shiny bluebells visible.

“Not that bad?!” she responded, incredulous. “It was horrible.”

The latch shut. Chat Noir sighed and knocked again.

“It happens. We all make mistakes.”

She opened the latch again. “I thought he was you!” Closed again. Chat was about to rap it again, but, once again, Marinette opened. “I genuinely, stupidly thought he was you.” It snapped closed again. Then came a muffled: “I’m a terrible friend.”

While Chat had felt a bit hurt that Marinette thought Félix was him, he couldn’t really blame her. He’d done a good job hiding his identity, just like Plagg had asked to. He didn’t even call her Princess as Adrien (although, it had almost slipped out a few times already). Yes, she made a mistake, but it also said a lot about how much more she wanted to get to know him. That, in itself, was a nice sentiment.

“Marinette, you could never be a terrible friend,” he called, not bothering to knock this time. The crack opened once again, exposing furrowed brows.

“I should know you well enough to know that you take your secret identity very serious,” she argued her case. “I did wrong. I failed. I have dishonored myself, my family and my cow. Good bye!”

Marinette pulled to close it back up again, but Chat managed to grab it just in time before hitting the frame. The girl’s eyes widened and blinked, staring at the gloved hand.

“Mari, if it had been me who had thought some girl was Ladybug, I probably would’ve done the same dumb thing.”

“But that’s different,” the girl whined. “You like Ladybug and she’s also your partner. I had no right.”

“Would you just come out?”

“No,” Marinette stubbornly refused. “I need to stay here and die in shame.”

“No, you need to get out and get some fresh air,” Chat retorted, starting to become irritated.

“I do not deserve fresh air.”

Chat groaned loudly, throwing his head back. There has to be a way to get her out. He thought for a moment, until an idea occurred to him. With a deep breath, he laid his stomach on the ground and placed his chin on his forearm, giving him a clear view of the pig-tailed girl’s bluebells. With the best kitty-eyes he could muster and a tiny pout, he said one word: “Pwease?”

Marinette’s face contorted as she released a strangled squeak. Yeap, it’s working.

“Don’t do that,” she hissed, but Chat only exaggerated the expression more, adding a light whimper, which prompted the combination of a loud groan and a growl from Marinette. “Fine!” she said at last, in defeat. “I’ll be right out.”

The latch closed again, but this time, Chat could hear shuffling from inside. Mission accomplished, he mentally basked in his victory, while standing and dusting off his suit.

He slowly paced the balcony, until he heard the trapdoor open again. The boy turned and was about to thank her for joining him, but the words died in his throat when he got a good look at her.

Marinette was wrapped from head to toe with a pink blanket. She looked like a little girl playing ghost.

It was adorable.

And hilarious.

Unable to contain himself, Chat barked out a laugh. Marinette merely whined again, tightening the blanket around her.

“I’m going back in.”

“Nononono,” the boy quickly reached out to where her arm was buried under the pink blanket, but still laughing. “I’m sorry, but you caught me off guard.” He let out a hearty breath. “Can you please stop hiding?”

Marinette grunted. Chat bit his lip, holding a commentary of how cute she was being. Instead, he pulled her closer and tried pulling the cloth away from her head, but was met with resistance.

“Do I need to say pwease again?” he jokingly scolded. The designer gave another low groan, but her grip slackened anyway. Slowly, Chat pulled on the material, enough to uncover her very flushed face.

He grinned. “There’s my Princess.”

Her cheeks became redder. “Your Princess?”

Chat almost chocked. A hand flew to the back of his head and he stammered out: “I-I mean, my friend, the Princess. Y-yeah, that’s what I meant.”

Internally, he could almost feel himself kick his own butt for that comment. And he had been playing it so cool, so far. It had been a week already since he found out about his feelings for the girl in front of him, yet he still couldn’t get used to the idea.

“Right,” Marinette whispered, dragging Chat Noir out of his thoughts. “Friends.”

The leather-clad hero studied her face for a moment, and realized that although it was red, her gaze was one of sadness. Was she really beating herself up that bad about it?

“Hey, Mari,” he placed his hands on her shoulders. “It was an honest mistake. It could’ve happened to anyone. Please don’t be sad.”

Marinette raised her gaze towards him, with slight confusion at first, but was quickly replaced with the shame from before. Weird.

“I thought some creepy weirdo was you. I have insulted your cat’s honor.”

Chat Noir chuckled. “Trust me; it takes a lot more to insult my honor.” He paused. “Wanna talk about it?”

Marinette hesitated. So, to encourage her, the boy skipped to the patio lounge and sat on it. To finish it off, he patted his lap, signaling her to sit with him.

“Come talk to the cat superhero,” he called, as if he were a commercial. “He’ll listen to all your troubles.”

I’m an idiot, he mentally barraged himself for his silly antics. That was, until Marinette giggled and made her way to join him. I’m a genius!

Without even questioning it, the girl sat on his lap, still holding tight to the blanket. Finally, she uttered two words: “I’m sorry.”

Chat Noir sighed. She really wasn’t making this easy. He placed his arms around her and pulled her closer.

“We all make mistakes,” he whispered into her flower-smelling hair. Oh, that wonderful scent. Focus, Adrien! “A-and it’s not like you did it on purpose. Some guy pretended to be me, and you jumped at the opportunity.”

“But I know better,” she interjected. “I know you well enough to know you wouldn’t give out your identity like that. Try to hang out with me more, maybe. But to be so obvious…”

Chat Noir gulped. He suddenly felt very lucky to be in the same classroom as her, otherwise she would’ve figured out his identity a long time ago. Oh, and that he had dragged his civilian self in the mess.

“Maybe someday,” he responded breathlessly, heart racing in his chest. “Someday, you’ll have to stand me in and out of suit.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad,” Marinette happily sighed, making herself comfortable on him and spreading the blanket over both of them. “I could show you off to my friends.”

“Yeah, and then complain about my puns to them,” Chat joked, lightly stroking her arm.

“Now why would I do that?” the girl spoke in a sleepy tone, her head lying under his neck.

“Because you’re always groaning every time I pun,” he chuckled.

“Chat,” she whispered, “I’ve always liked your puns.”

The boy could’ve sworn his heart stopped beating. She WHAT?!

“You just have terrible timing,” she finished.

Yet the additional information didn’t deter his new mood. She likes my puns! She actually likes my puns! He repeated the sentences several times in his mind, all the while tightening his grip on the girl in his arms. What did I do to deserve such a wonderful human being?

It was official: Marinette stole his heart. She came into his life and offered more than friendship, even before either of them knew it. She gave him comfort, smiles, warmth, laughs, kindness…

Love.

She gave him unconditional love. It took him this long to realize that it wasn’t her good looks what had the other boys going crazy for her, but her amazing treatment of others. That even though she had no idea who he was under the mask, that he was the boy she was in love with, she still did everything in her power to make him happy. She liked him for who he was, even if it was only bits that she knew.

Chat Noir closed his eyes and gave a happy hum. Just a friend. Those words seemed so far away now. How could he ever think she’d be just a friend? The thought seemed insane now. It was like she had had his heart the entire time, yet he hadn’t noticed until recently.

“You’re amazing, Marinette,” he sighed softly in bliss.

“So are you, Chat Noir,” she slurred.

The two remained still in each other’s arms. Consciousness fleeted away from them. They merely enjoyed their warmth.

In the process, they forgot they were sitting on Marinette’s balcony. They forgot Chat Noir was supposed to patrol that evening. They forgot there was a limit to the miraculous magic that suited up the leather-clad hero.

And they had fallen so deeply asleep, neither noticed when the leather disappeared, and turned into a soft, expensive fabric.

Cameras surrounded Marinette. Lights were flashing all around her. Behind the many faceless reporters, she could only see gray. Why was it so dark behind them?

“Marinette, are you in love with Chat Noir?” a redheaded reporter yelled, pushing a microphone to her face.

“I already said I don’t!” Marinette defended herself.

“But Tikki told us you do!” the reporter said.

The blue-haired girl gasped and looked at a floating red speck next to her.

“You little traitor!” she accused.

“But it’s true, Marinette!” the disembodied speck defended herself.

“Since when are you two in love?” The girl turned back to Anabelle, whose eyes were magnified by those red trimmed glasses, making her look like a bug.

“I-I, uh…” Marinette stuttered.

“NO COMMENT!” someone suddenly said, breaking through the crowd and grabbing her wrist.

Marinette let herself be dragged by a hand with a silver ring, but couldn’t see who it belonged to. Too many cameras were in the way. As the person continued pulling on her, she looked back at the crowd. Yet they became distant. Almost as if she were flying. She looked back at her savior, and before her eyes was Chat Noir, giving her his trademark toothy grin.

“Why didn’t you tell them, Princess?” he asked, oddly cheerful.

The designer searched for the silver ring. She could’ve sworn she saw him wearing a silver ring. Yet there his ring was, as black as ever with the familiar green paw print.

“What was I supposed to say?” she asked, sincerely confused.

“That you love me,” Chat Noir said, nonchalantly.

“I can’t,” she responded. “If I tell them I love you, Adrien will think I never loved him.”

“But you love me.” Without any prompting, Chat Noir wrapped Marinette in a tight hug. “You’re amazing, Marinette.”

The pig-tailed girl didn’t move. She remained petrified in his arms, feeling oddly warm and cozy. Her arms snaked their way up to his back, returning the embrace. After what seemed like no time at all, she pulled back, but only enough to see his face.

“Do you love me?” she asked, tentatively, hopeful. If he responded with a yes, what was she supposed to do? Should they be together? She definitely wouldn’t mind that.

Chat Noir continued to smile. He opened his mouth to say something, but…

“PWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”

Marinette’s eyes flew open, only to see what looked like a black cat floating in the air. The girl almost immediately jumped, but was quickly held down by a pair of arms pinning her down.

“Don’t get up!” the owner of those arms screeched.

It was then that she froze, finally registering what was happening.

“Chat?” she squeaked, almost drowned by the still cackling floating creature. Which now Marinette realized was probably his kwami.

“Plagg!” Chat Noir scolded. “What do you think you’re doing? What’s so funny?”

“Ooohhh, this is just too good,” Plagg giggled, wiping a tear from his eye. He then stared Marinette straight in the eye. “Really, really good.”

With a smirk, he gave Marinette a knowing look…that could only mean one thing:

He knows.

“Why are you giving us heart attacks?” Chat Noir insisted, unaware of the silent message passing between the kwami and the designer.

“I saw a very funny bug,” Plagg snorted, confirming Marinette’s suspicion.

“And that justifies freaking us out like that?” Chat Noir huffed, making a movement that reminded Marinette of the predicament they were in.

“I have no regrets,” the kwami said proudly.

Chat Noir sighed under Marinette. “Sorry about that,” he whispered.

“Noitsfine,” the designer managed to blurt out. She cleared her throat and tried again. “W-what’s that?”

“Plagg, Marinette. Marinette, Plagg,” Chat Noir introduced, annoyed. “He’s the thing that gives me my powers.” His arms tightened around her. “Which I don’t have right now.”

Marinette gulped as she felt the soft, loose material under her palm.

“O-oh,” she stuttered.

“Why am I not transformed?” the unmasked hero demanded, unaware of his partner’s inner turmoil.

“Just ‘cause you don’t use Cataclysm it doesn’t mean I don’t get tired,” Plagg spat. “You have any idea how exhausting these weeks have been for me? It gets stuffy in there.” He crossed his tiny arms. “It’s not like you even needed the mask. You were sleeping.”

Marinette could’ve sworn she felt her partner tense. What was more, she heard a gulp go down his esophagus. Was he nervous? Why was he nervous?

As if to answer her question, his hands slowly caressed her exposed arm. Just as a shuddered breath escaped his lips.

“Unless you guys want me to stay stuck here all day, I’m gonna have to transform—”

“No!” Marinette blurted out, taking a fistful of his over-shirt, which she now noticed was white.

“Marinette, I—”

“I won’t look,” the designer promised. “But can we lie here a little longer?”

There was a pause. Marinette thought for sure she had just made a huge mistake. Maybe even made him uncomfortable, or mistrust her.

“Okay,” Chat Noir whispered. “We can stay like this.”

Instantly, Marinette’s heart jolted. The hand that had been on her elbow now moved up her forearm, until reaching her own hand.

“How much longer are you gonna stay here?” Plagg whined. When the response he got were a bunch of rambled ‘er’s and ‘um’s, the kwami sighed. “I’ll be in that flower pot, if you need me.”

Without another word, Plagg zipped away to one of Marinette’s plants. One where the girl suspected Tikki was hiding in.

“That’s weird,” Chat Noir muttered. When Marinette hummed in confusion, he elaborated. “You’d think he’d use an opportunity like this to tease obnoxiously. Although… well, you weren’t supposed to meet.”

Marinette swallowed. “Maybe he’s keeping himself as mysterious as possible,” she feebly tried to make sense. “You know, like, the less I know, the better. A-and maybe waking us up was not his intention.”

“Probably,” Chat Noir sighed. “You sleep well, by the way?”

“Uuuhhh.” Marinette reddened, the memory of the dream she had suddenly rushing back to her. A nervous giggle escaped her lips. “Y-yeah, totally good sleep, dreamless nap. Yeap, all good.”

“Are you okay?” the boy asked.

“A-Okay!” Marinette squeaked, tightening her grip on the white over-shirt. “I’m just e-excited tha-that I, um… get to see you wear white! That’s… That’s a surprise.”

The girl cringed at her ramblings. She was really losing it today.

“You know, Princess, you may not be able to see my face, but I can see every single expression you make from here,” Chat Noir chuckled.

“Whaaattt,” Marinette feigned ignorance, but her blush betrayed her.

“Is that why you wanted us to stay here?” Chat Noir teased. “To inspect my civilian clothes?”

“How dare you—” Marinette started, but was abruptly interrupted when she was pushed back down to the boy’s chest. It seemed she had unconsciously started to raise herself, as if about to face him.

“This is really nerve-wrecking,” Chat Noir confessed. “Why do you want to stay here again?”

Marinette opened her mouth to respond, but immediately closed it again. The truth of the matter was… embarrassing? If she was being honest with herself, this was the closest she had ever felt to him. Although they had hugged plenty of times, she had never felt his bare arms around her. And it felt important to her. Like it was something she would probably never get the chance to do ever again.

“Maybe it’s best I—”

“I never thought you’d wear white!” Marinette blurted out.

Was it just her, or could she hear his heartbeat? And if it was, why was it so fast?

“Um, yeah,” Chat Noir responded awkwardly. “It’d be a little too revealing if I pranced around in black all the time, don’t you think?”

“Right,” Marinette laughed.

They remained quiet for a brief moment. Finally, Chat Noir took a deep breath, as he tightened his grip on her.

“I think it’s best I transform,” he said.

Marinette hummed, not exactly in agreement, but not stopping him either. A call to Plagg and several words later, a green light engulfed them both, making Marinette squint.

“It’s done,” Chat Noir whispered.

Slowly, Marinette pushed herself up, far enough to get a look of his face. As always, he was wearing the mask she had always seen him with. His clothes were now as black as ever. And the reminder, that she may never know who the boy under the mask is, struck her. Badly.

She blinked several times and rose from the seat, making the pink blanket fall to the ground.

“Everything okay?” Marinette heard from behind her.

“Yeah, it’s fine,” she lied. “It’s just been a long day.”

“Tell me about it,” Chat Noir agreed, while picking up the blanket and placing it on the chair. “It had been a while since the last time LB and I fought such a destructive akuma. Good thing Miraculous Cure exists, right?”

“Yeah,” Marinette smiled. “A good thing indeed. And that she has you, of course.” Lucky me, she thought, somehow bitterly.

“As a partner, of course,” Chat Noir said pointedly.

His tone made Marinette look at him in curiosity. She had never heard him talk about Ladybug as just his partner. In fact, he was usually very open about his love for her. Was this really Chat Noir she was talking to, and not some impersonator?

“Do I have something on my face?” he asked suddenly.

It then occurred to Marinette that she had been staring for a minute. With warming cheeks, she gave him a sheepish smile and scratched the back of her head.

“Sorry,” she giggled. “I got, kinda… distracted.”

Chat Noir hummed and nodded. He then moved his gaze to the Parisian horizon. Marinette followed his line of view, to realize he was staring at the sun that was almost fully hidden. Meaning there was somewhere he was supposed to be.

“I should go,” he said suddenly, making Marinette’s heart leap. He then looked back at her and gave her a soft smile. “I’ll see you around, Mari.” He turned to the railing, and was about to leap off.

“Wait!” Marinette blurted out, just as she grabbed his wrist.

With surprised eyes, Chat Noir turned to her, dead on his tracks. The girl didn’t know what took over her. She knew it was time for his patrol. He had a duty to fulfill. She knew that better than anyone else. However…

She didn’t want to see him go. After everything they went through that day. After getting the chance to touch his bare skin. After The Storyteller. After Annabelle. She didn’t want to let go. Not just yet.

“Stay,” she said, at last. “Stay, just a little longer.”

Chat Noir blinked owlishly. “I-I…I have to patrol.”

Marinette bit her lip. She couldn’t believe she was about to say this: “I’m sure Ladybug wouldn’t mind if you start a little late tonight.”

A silence stretched for a moment. She could see consideration in his cat-like eyes. Those eyes that, now that she thought about it, reminded her of springtime. Oh, this was a bad idea, she thought, the longer he took.

“Okay,” he said quietly. “I’ll stay.”

Wait, what?

If Marinette was being honest with herself, she didn’t expect for that to work. What was more, she hadn’t planned this far ahead. She hadn’t even known she wanted him to stay until asking him. Now what?

“Great!” she squeaked, earning an arched eyebrow from the boy before her. Thankfully, he chuckled the next second.

“Sooo…” he started. “Whatta you wanna do?”

“U-um…” Marinette looked around her balcony, trying to think of an excuse. “Uuuhhh—Have you ever looked at my plants?”

“Uh, yeah,” Chat Noir responded with a shrug. “It’s kinda part of the reason I gave you the spray bottle.”

“Right,” she nodded. Her gaze went directly to the gift, still sitting on the small table, where she had left it as Ladybug. Why was it that she had it as Ladybug?

The Storyteller, she dropped it when Chat saved her, after they had been… Oh.

She had almost forgotten the conversation they were having before the akuma interrupted them. An unfinished one, which never got a straight answer.

“You know, Ladybug brought it back here,” she said cautiously.

“Well, that explains why I couldn’t find it,” Chat Noir grinned, leaning back against the railing.

“Good to know you remembered,” she smiled back. “And you know, now that I think back, I just remembered something,” she said, landing a fist on her open palm. “You know we didn’t finish our conversation from earlier, right?”

“What conversation?” he frowned.

“When I asked you if you were jealous of Félix,” she dared say, crossing her arms and trying to ignore the way her heart had just accelerated.

And just as she finished, the color of Chat Noir’s face was drained. His fake ears stood straight in alert. His shoulders tensed.

“I thought you forgot about that,” he breathed.

“So you were jealous,” Marinette almost squeaked.

“No, no, I did not say that,” Chat Noir immediately tried to amend, pushing himself from the railing. “W-what I meant was, that, um… I thought you weren’t mad anymore. About what happened.”

“Oh,” the designer let out, feeling disappointed, for some reason. Okay, maybe she knew the reason, but there was no way she was admitting to anything, much less when it seemed she was wrong about earlier. Or… was she? Her eyes squinted. “Actually, yes, I’m mad.”

Chat Noir’s fake ears drooped, making Marinette almost regret her plan.

“I didn’t mean to be so mean, but…” he sighed. “I just didn’t like that he was pretending to be me.”

“And how would you know he was pretending to be you?” she asked, hands on her hips. “Or that it wasn’t the first time he called me Princess?”

“I have my sources, Mari,” he said as nonchalantly as possible, but Marinette could hear the forcefulness in his tone.

“You’ve said that before,” she reminded him.

“They’re very good sources.”

“Or you saw it firsthand.”

Chat Noir didn’t say anything. Instead, his eyes stared at the ground. He might as well had responded with an affirmative.

“We do know each other, don’t we?” she whispered.

“You know I can’t answer that,” he whispered back.

“But you’re not Félix.”

“Of course I’m not that prick,” Chat Noir huffed.

Marinette smirked. “You know, you say you weren’t jealous, but then you say stuff like that.”

Once again, Chat Noir seemed to be at a loss of words. He gave a loud huff, and turned towards the railing. He rested his forearms on the cool metal to clasp his hands together.

“I don’t see any reason why I should be jealous,” he mumbled.

Marinette almost gave an exasperated sigh. His attitude was almost completely opposite of what he was saying. It tempted her so much on forcing out what she thought he was hiding, but the idea sounded so similar to what Annabelle did to them that very same day. Of course, Marinette wasn’t some random paparazzi messing with them, yet it still didn’t feel right.

Instead, she stepped to his left side and tried catching his eye. Noticing what she was doing, Chat Noir averted his gaze away from hers. However, the turn of his face was not enough to hide what was clearly a tint of pink on his cheeks.

“You know you can tell me anything, Chat,” Marinette whispered, trying to suppress a smile.

“Not…everything,” the boy sighed.

The girl frowned. “I know not everything, but I won’t judge you for having mixed up feelings.” Marinette bit her lip for a moment, trying to gather the courage to say what she wanted, while hiding the sting it brought to her heart. “It’s fine if you say you never want to be with me, but feel protective of our friendship.”

She was about to continue, but Chat Noir snapped his head towards her. His eyes scanned her features, making Marinette feel somewhat conscious. She quickly blinked several times, hoping her eyes didn’t betray her own feelings. Slowly, Chat Noir’s eyes widened.

“Marinette, I didn’t mean what I said earlier,” he said, almost blurting it. “I only said that because I got overwhelmed with Annabelle’s questions, and I was very close to mess up. So I said that to compensate for my mistake. But I swear I didn’t mean it.”

“Oh.” This time, Marinette was unable to hold in a breath of relief. “Well, that’s nice to know.”

She looked back at her partner, who was now squinting at her.

“What?”

He smirked. “Why are you smiling?” he asked with a teasing tone.

Marinette’s stomach jolted and a hand flew to her mouth.

“I’m not smiling!” she protested stubbornly.

“Oh really?” Chat Noir drawled. He then proceeded to poke her cheek. “Then what’s this? Because I doubt your face is usually this squishy.”

“Stop.” Marinette lightly slapped his hand away. “Why would I be smiling?”

“Why would I be jealous?” the boy responded mechanically.

They both gave one last laugh, when the questions properly registered for both. They stared at each other with wide eyes for a second, but almost immediately burst into nervous laughter.

“Y-yeah,” Chat Noir started, scratching the back of his head. “Dumb question, I guess. Totally dumb.”

“Heh, y-yeah,” Marinette squeaked. “Silly so—I mean, uh, you know…We’re being silly, right? Chaton? Pal? Buddy?”

Mindlessly, she lightly elbowed his arm, all the while letting out an awkward giggle. When she realized what she was doing, she whined and clapped a hand to her face. When she dared to peek through her fingers, Chat Noir was giving her the most bewildered look she’d ever seen on his face. Almost…familiar.

“PFFTHAHAHAHAHAHA.” His cheeks puffed, just as he fell into hysterics.

Marinette couldn’t help but stare for a moment, something nagging at the back of her head. Yet all instinct led her to simply giggle from behind her hand.

“You know,” the boy heaved, trying to control his laughter. “I don’t think I’ve ever met someone who makes me laugh as much as you do.”

Marinette pouted. “Do I make you laugh at me or with me?”

“Both,” he shrugged.

The girl huffed and stuck her tongue out to him, giving way for another chuckle from the leather-clad hero

“Don’t make this cat catch your tongue,” he joked.

But almost instantly, the implication of the joke made the two teens blush once again and Marinette hide the appendage in question. They remained quiet, until Chat Noir cleared his throat.

“Marinette, can I ask you something?”

“Chat, I think we’re way past the point that you have to ask me if you can ask me something,” Marinette chuckled. Chat gave a light laugh and took a deep breath. Marinette frowned. “What is it?”

Chat visibly gulped. “Why do you like Adrien?”

Marinette blinked. What brought this on? And why did he seem nervous asking?

“Well,” she started, “there’s a lot of things I like about him.”

“I’m not asking what,” Chat quietly interjected. Marinette gave him a curious look. This was… different.

“I don’t think anyone has ever asked me why. Everything okay, chaton?”

“Yeah,” he cleared his throat as he said it. “I’m just curious.”

“Hmm,” Marinette tapped her index on her chin, thinking. “Because… He’s kind. That was the first thing that struck me about him. He cares about the people that surround him, even if they don’t show him the same kindness back. He’s selfless, and he’s much more determined than he realizes. In fact, he was so determined to attend school, he actually escaped his own house against his father’s will. Huh,” she thought for a moment, “I guess I should add courageous to that list.”

She looked back at her leather-clad partner, and was taken slightly aback when she saw a strange expression on his face. It seemed familiar, like she had seen it before. A look she had seen during akuma attacks sometimes.

She cleared her throat when her stomach did that pesky somersault.

“W-what about you?” Stop stuttering, for goodness sake! She cleared her throat again. “Why do you like Ladybug?”

“She’s amazing,” he responded simply, still with that weird— Dazed. She had seen him admire her as Ladybug like that from afar, when he thought she wasn’t looking. Guess he was just lost in thoughts about Ladybug, she thought. But there seemed to be something wrong with that thought. There was something that didn’t fit. Something about her statement was wrong. Why did it feel wrong?

“She’s smart, brave, has a need to help others, which is pretty amazing in itself. You know,” he leaned on the railing, his forearms resting on the metal bars, “she’s a lot like you.”

Marinette almost chocked on her own saliva.

“Whaaat? Nah,” she waved a hand dismissively. “Psh, Ladybug and I? Nah, no way. We’re nothing alike. Ha, ha. That’s crazy talk.”

“Are you kidding?” Chat Noir chuckled. “You two are the bravest people I know. Heck, I’d say you’re braver because you save people without powers.”

“You don’t know that Ladybug doesn’t,” she mumbled. But as soon as she realized her potential mistake, she followed with: “B-besides! I can’t handle myself in an interview as well she can.”

“I don’t know,” Chat Noir shrugged, ignoring her first statement. “You handled yourself amazingly today. I think you could give Ladybug a run for her money.”

The pig-tailed girl cleared her throat, for what seemed like the hundredth time that day.

“Is that you comparing me to Ladybug?” she asked, in an attempt to distract him from the similarities between her and her alter ego.

Yet, to her surprise, he smiled.

“No,” he said. “You’re amazing all on your own, Marinette.”

Oh, I wanna punch you, the designer thought, as her cheeks had grown hotter than they had ever been. I’m screwed, aren’t I?

“Thank you,” Marinette mumbled.

“And I really mean that, Princess.”

Marinette looked up to his eyes. From the softness of them, she could tell his words were genuine.

“Since when are you such a charmer, minou?” she teased, bumping his shoulder with her own.

Chat Noir giggled. “I’m only charming when I want to be, and with whom I want to be.”

He then playfully pushed her with his shoulder. Marinette giggled and did the same. But Chat Noir fell further to the other side, about to fall over. When Marinette grabbed his arm, he quickly straightened, his shoulder pressed against hers once again.

“Kidding,” he chuckled. Marinette groaned and was about to hit him, but realized the hand she had placed on his arm was now trapped under his own clawed one.

The laughter died away. The girl’s eyes were focused on their hands. She could see, from the corner of her eye, that Chat Noir was also staring. Yet, she didn’t pay mind.

Ever so slowly, the gloved hand moved and entwined his fingers with hers. Marinette could feel her heart skipping beats. She then looked up, just as Chat Noir did the same.

There was something different about his expression, like it was searching for something. And like him, she was looking for something, too. What that was, she wasn’t sure, but whatever it was, she wanted it.

She shifted her eyes from one spot of his face to the other. She noticed how his mask seemed to be of a different material than his suit. She noticed how well his skin seemed to be taken care of. She noticed how the pupils of his cat eyes could become larger.

But the last thing she expected to notice that evening was how soft Chat Noir’s lips were.

[linaseraphina13]

Preview of Chapter 2 (that pjo au i haven’t updated in like a month lol)

Call dreamed of the stars.

“You should get inside. It’s late,” Alastair’s voice floated out from the porch, batting moths away from his face. Call just hummed. He felt comfortable lying on his back in the grass, fireflies darting in and out of his vision. He didn’t want to ever get up.

Looking up at the night sky, at the moon and the millions of stars and that one airplane blinking in the distance, Call wished he could fly away and live there forever. It would be better than down here in boring old Enoree, where the old people were racist and the kids took pleasure in wailing on those unfortunate enough to look the way Call did. Like they could beat the Mexican out of him until he started looking, acting, and talking like them.

The grass rustled and Alastair settled down beside him, bones creaking and sighing like his joints needed grease. Sometimes Call thought his dad was like one of the many old cars he worked on. Rusty, broken down, and perpetually covered in motor oil.

“What’s wrong,” Alastair asked gruffly. His voice was always gruff. And tinted with a slight accent that made him sound like a bad guy in an old Western film.

Call just shrugged. He didn’t like to share his emotions that much. He was like his father that way. “Nothin’. Just stargazing.”

“Stargazing,” he repeated at length, then let out a sigh. He did that a lot when he talked to Call, like he was trying to figure out the mystery that was his son. “You’re just like your mother. Always looking at places you can never be. Always looking for a place to escape to.”

They didn’t talk about his mom much. Call picked at a loose thread in his jeans. “Do you think she’s watching over us right now?”

“What, from the stars?” Call nodded. He chuckled. “Probably. That seems like something she would do, huh?”

Call didn’t know if that was something she would do. He didn’t know anything about his mother, who left when he was a baby. There were no pictures, no clothes, no evidence that she’d even been in his life at all. Sometimes he wondered if she was dead.

But he knew better. Alastair didn’t talk about her much, but when he did, it was always in the present tense. Never past tense. Like he expected her to walk back through the door any day now.

He cleared his throat like he was gearing up to say something important. Call waited patiently. He uttered, “You came home with a busted lip.”

It was a statement. Not a question.

“Yeah.” He ran a tongue over the cut, which had already scabbed over. “Some kid tripped me in the hallway. Hit my face on the water fountain.”

Alastair hummed. “You kick his ass?”

“I got my knuckles wet before I punched him. Like you said,” Call told him. “It stung him real bad. He cried like a baby.”

Most fathers would frown at this type of behavior, but Alastair just nodded resolutely. “Good. You make sure those punks know what happens when they mess with you.” His gaze softened. “You need ice or something?”

“Nah. Doesn’t hurt anymore.” This was a lie. It still throbbed every time he talked, but Call didn’t want to seem weak in front of his father. “Besides,” he grinned wickedly. “Battle scars.”

“Battle scars.” He clapped a hand on his son’s shoulder and then stood with some difficulty. “Just don’t get into anymore fights. If you get expelled again I’m going to have to send you off to that Catholic school you hate so much.”

“We’re not even Catholic,” he muttered, but he stood as well. He knew a threat when he heard one. It was an unspoken warning, not born from malice, but more because it was the only option they had left. Call hated that he was causing his father to spend so much money on him, whether it be from medical bills or paying for stuff he’d broken, but his dad never complained. Not once. Call was lucky to have him.

“Let’s get inside,” said Alastair, and led his son into their tiny farmhouse. The stars twinkled above the clouds. Call liked to imagine that meant his mom was winking at him.

Five hours later Call woke up to utter chaos.

He heard yelling, footsteps, the obvious sound of panic as people rushed back and forth. Shadows danced across his eyelids. Call felt unnaturally cold, like the air was crisper than it should’ve been.

“...can’t believe this,” a voice was saying quite loudly, clearly vexed. “Like, gods, six Empousa? It’s a miracle we even made it out alive! What next, all three Furies and a flock of Stymphalian birds?”

Call’s head hurt. His leg hurt. But, most of all, his stomach felt like someone had ripped it open, laid his organs out, and put them in ascending alphabetical order. The pain was unbearable. He felt like he was going to die.

“Is he going to be okay?,” another voice asked anxiously, this one closer than the others. Someone gave a response, but it sounded muffled to him, like his ears were filled with cotton.

A hand pressed to his forehead and Call reflexively smacked it away. More mumbling.

“Unclaimed. Greek. Moderately powerful,” a third voice muttered, then went softer as it addressed him, “Hey little guy, it’s alright. How are you feeling? Can you look at me please?”

Call opened his eyes.

Through the foggy vision, he could see an unfamiliar teenage boy bending over him; older, blond, who sort of looked like what you would get if you brought one of those Greek statues to life and gave it a military haircut. He also seemed to be covered in some sort of weird yellow blanket.

Wait, no. Not a blanket. As his vision cleared, Call came to the sudden realization that he was, in fact, surrounded by a pair of giant golden wings.

“Oh, thank goodness. You lost quite a lot of blood there,” said the boy, whom said giant golden wings belonged to. And it might’ve been because he still couldn’t see clearly and because the setting sun was providing a lot of good lighting here, but Call could’ve sworn up and down that the boy in front of him looked like a divine being of God coming to take him away to the gates of Heaven themselves.

“Are you an angel?,” Call asked stupidly.

“Uh.” The winged blond jolted a little, like a very startled bird.

“Oh, give me a break,” someone else said, pushing themselves through until they were standing directly in front of Call, and shoved something under his nose. “Here. Eat this, it’ll make you less stupid.”

Call instinctively shied away. “What is that?,” he slurred. “A pot brownie?”

“A pot brownie,” came the incredulous whisper. “Gods above. Kid, just take it.”

Before he knew what was happening, rough hands were shoving a square of food into his mouth and he choked on it before he remembered to chew. An explosion of flavor danced across his tongue, the distinct taste of black coffee and his father’s homemade pecan pie filling his senses. Normally the two flavors together would be terrible, but right now it tasted like the best thing in the world.

He coughed and sat up, feeling marginally less sore. “What was that?”

“Ambrosia, food for the gods. Think you can form a coherent sentence now, tough guy?”

Call found that he could. The pain in his stomach had somehow lessened until it was a barely tangible ache in his lower abdomen. He struggled to take in his surroundings.

He noticed that there were two boys in front of him; one tall and blond (the one with wings) wearing a purple t-shirt and some weird looking armor, and the other one very short and wearing an orange t-shirt that clashed horribly with his bright red hair. While the blond one was looking at him in worry, the other had just stood up and was scowling at Call like he’d personally offended his mother.

“Ah. The zombie lives,” orange t-shirt said flatly. “You drool in your sleep, did you know that?”

“Who-” Call coughed and sat up. “Who are you?”

The boy snorted. “Good question. Counter argument: who are you?”

Call felt the fabric of his clothes shift and scrape against something on his stomach. Panicked, his hand flew to his stomach, but he was surprised to find it no longer bleeding from an open wound, although there was a fair amount of dried blood on his uniform. From the rips in the fabric he could see three scabbed over stitches going up his abdomen.

Wings said, “Hope you don’t mind us stitching you up. You were loosing a lot of blood and we didn’t have enough time to take you to a hospital. But Elliot did a pretty nice job, so it shouldn’t scar.”

Call blinked. That probably wasn’t safe. “Uh. Thanks?”

Elliot, the redhead, harrumphed. “Yeah, well, next time if you’re going to bleed out, try doing it somewhere far away from us.”

I’ll have this chapter out soon, I’ve just been having a bit of writer’s block with this^^^ one scene. Everything else is finished tho lol

[darylwillfightnatureforcarol]

Imprisoned Chapter 11

Description: Daryl and Carol prepare to leave the Kingdom but first stop to let Daryl's date know that she needs to get another ride home. They also see how the wild party has continued to devolve. 

Imprisoned

Emerging into the cool air soothed Carol’s skin instantly. She had been full of fire and rage only moments ago. The accusations and hypocrisy that her ‘husband’ has spewed had driven her mad.

Seeing him start towards Daryl in a threatening way caused her instincts to take over. The punch had been painful but satisfying.

She glanced to her left, where Daryl stood. He was watching her carefully whilst chewing on his lip. The habit was familiar to her and she knew he mainly did it when he was deep in thought.

“What?” she blurted, disrupting the calm atmosphere of the night. He released his lip, still watching her strangely.

“You alright?” he asked in a gentle voice.

Now she was able to place the look he was giving her. Worry. He was worried like she might break down.

“I didn’t hit him that hard. The skin’ll heal in a few days,” she muttered, choosing to avoid the depth of his question.

He huffed and there was a hint of frustration in his gaze now.

“Wasn’t talking about that.”

Carol sighed and faced him.

“I know what you meant. I don’t think I have an answer.”

Daryl frowned, but inclined his head.

“Alright.”

“Honestly, the only thing I want right now is to get the hell out of here,” she confessed in a tired voice.

Daryl didn’t answer for a little while, but then his eyes softened. He approached her slowly, and she didn’t protest when he pulled her into his arms.

Her cheek was pressed into his sternum and she burrowed closer, enjoying his warmth. She didn’t know how he did it, but whenever she was in his arms, the world felt right. Nothing mattered other than the safe, cocoon he provided. Already, her heart began to feel lighter.

“It’ll be okay,” she heard him whisper into the top of her head. She sighed, nuzzling her head into him.

“I know.”

--

Upon re-entering the party, Daryl couldn’t help rolling his eyes. The craziness that had begun before all the recent drama had, decidedly, not stopped. In fact, it seemed to have gotten worse, as impossible as it seemed.

The lack of limit on the booze had taken its toll. The once competently dancing couples had devolved into drunken stumbling and hanging off each other. There were plastic cups littering almost every surface.

He spied Alden across the way assisting a barely conscious Enid towards the other exit. Thankfully, he seemed to be in a more sober condition than his girlfriend. Similarly, he noticed Jerry and Nabila snuggled in a corner, looking to be half-way to the wind.

As much as he wanted to get the hell out this place, as Carol did, he couldn’t just abandon his reluctant date. He needed to at least find Jenny and let her know that she would need to find another ride back to Alexandria. He had no doubt there would be someone that could take her back. He knew there had been discussions among the others over designated drivers. Technically, she could have come back with them, but he didn’t want to add any more fuel to the fire that was Carol’s insecurities.

Carol stuck close to him as they manoeuvred through the rowdy crowd. Her hand rested lightly on his left arm and he couldn’t help the joy he felt at her touch.

She was just touching his arm for Christ’s sake, he scolded himself.

He shook his head at his own berating. It wasn’t just that she was touching him. Things had changed between them. He didn’t want to get too far ahead of himself, but it seemed like she wanted to be with him. Not just in location.

His inner musings were cut off abruptly. Ahead of them was a shocking sight. No one should have to witness this, was all he could think.

He stared for god knew how long before he noticed the giggles coming from his side. He turned to Carol, and she was covering her mouth, trying to smother the laugh that had erupted from her.

She turned to him, mirth in her slightly unfocussed eyes. She reached her hand over and pressed it to the bottom of his chin, closing his gaping mouth. He hadn’t realised it had been open, but he wasn’t surprised.

“You’ll catch flies,” she teased before turning to look at the spectacle in front of them once more.

He reluctantly turned back to look too.

On top of the table that had once housed the beer pong games, were Aaron, and Jesus. Aaron wasn’t doing anything that scandalous. He was just standing and watching Jesus. Jesus, on the other hand, was using his apparent lover as a pole in a strip club. His shirt was even off and his hair was hanging loose, no longer in the bun he had sported earlier.

There was a crowd gathered at the edges of the table. Many women, who looked to be fawning over the long-haired man. At the forefront of their group was, of course, Tara.

She was screaming her approval and egging Jesus on. He squinted to see better and he confirmed that, yes, she was tossing cash at the man. Where the hell she got the cash, he did not know? He hadn’t seen actual money in years.

She caught hold of the belt loops of Jesus’ jeans and tugged him over to her. He went with a drunken grin and she shoved a bunch of bills down the front of his jeans. Daryl blushed red and looked away.

He cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Let’s hurry up and find her so we can leave.”

Carol looked at him with amusement clear on her face.

He knew he must be red as a tomato right now and Carol knew him well enough to know that he was uncomfortable. It wasn’t that Aaron and Jesus were men, and gay that was making him uncomfortable. He wasn’t Merle. He didn’t share his late brother’s bigoted ideals. It was just the overt lust that was in both the men’s eyes and the fact that that shit belonged in the bedroom. Their bedroom.

“They’re just having fun,” Carol admonished him with a smirk.

He scoffed and gently nudged her forwards, away from the scene of the crime against his eyes.

“Yeah, I think everyone’s had a little too much fun tonight.”

As he said it, they passed a sleeping Eugene on a couch in the corner. Daryl couldn’t help snorting in amusement. All over the man’s face was various drawings and writing. Most notably being; a picture of a dick on his cheek, and on his forehead were the words ‘Lightweight’.

Carol frowned at the passed-out man and shook her head.

“Thank god I didn’t decide to take a nap out here,” she said.

“Nah, I wouldn’t let ‘em draw on ya,” he said sincerely. She gave him a small smile and he blushed, realising that it had sounded kind of mushy.

“My hero,” she praised with a smirk.

He ducked his head and was relieved when he spotted their target over by the stage.

He pushed her gently in that direction and didn’t miss the way her jaw ticked as her gaze settled on the woman in question.

He frowned. She didn’t still think he was into Jenny, did she? If she did, he’d have to shut that shit down quickly. He didn’t want her getting all upset over something that wasn’t anything. There was only one woman he was interested in and it was Carol.

--

“Hey,” Daryl greeted as they approached Jenny.

She had been dancing with some Kingdom resident. Daryl didn’t know the man’s name. Honestly, he didn’t know many of the dwellers of the Kingdom.

“Hey,” she said brightly with a glance to his right, where Carol stood.

“Your majesty,” the Kingdom man murmured with a nod.

He watched Carol suppress an eye roll as she gave the man a tight smile.

“George,” she greeted simply.

“So, we’re gonna be heading out now. I just wanted to let you know so you could arrange with someone else to get home,” he explained, hoping she didn’t press to come with them.

Jenny looked over them both and there was a little smile playing on her lips.

“Oh, no problem. I’ll probably hitch a ride back with Aaron,” she said, and she leaned closer with a conspiratorial look. “I think he might need me to help with Jesus.”

Daryl shuddered as the name brought his mind back to the embarrassing scene that they had witnessed only moments ago. It was not going to be easy to talk to Jesus for a while.

“That’s nice of you,” Carol offered with another tight smile.

Oh, please don’t start something, he prayed.

Jenny smiled widely and turned to Carol. There was no veiled animosity in her expression, luckily. She produced her hand to Carol, who looked at it sceptically for a beat before taking it.

“Hi, I’m Jenny, we haven’t met but Daryl has told me so much about you!” she gushed, and Daryl sent her a warning look. What happened to ‘what stays at the damn bar’?

“He has, has he?” Carol gave him a suspicious look.

He blushed and avoided her gaze. Why did he always get embarrassed so easily? It was so inconvenient.

“Oh yes, only good things, I promise!” Jenny reassured with a giggle. “You’re really lucky to have him.”

Carol’s expression cleared and she smiled more genuinely.

“Yes, I am.”

She turned her smile to him, and it was softer than a moment ago. He gave her a tiny smile in return, still feeling his cheeks flame.

“Right, well, like I said, we’re gonna go,” Daryl reminded, trying to hurry this along.

Jenny smiled again and there was an understanding look about her.

“Of course. You guys get out of here.”

With that, Daryl was able to direct Carol to the exit doors, avoiding drunken party goers. There were going to be a lot of hung-over people in the morning.

Finally, they re-emerged into the cool night. They both paused a moment to enjoy the breeze.

Daryl led her to where he had parked the little cart. The horses huffed at them in greeting, having been chewing on hay. He petted them both on the nose.

Carol hefted her bag onto the back of the cart. She hadn’t taken all that much, so it wasn’t too strenuous a task.

She made to step up onto the cart and Daryl instinctively held out his hand to assist her. She smiled at him, fluttering her lashes teasingly and took his offered hand. She used her grip on him to hoist herself up and into the seat at the front of the cart. Daryl blushed at her antics and followed her up, settled beside her and grabbing up the reins.

“Let’s get out of here,” Carol urged with a last look at the party. There was a tinge of sadness still lingering in her eyes.

Daryl didn’t need to be told twice as he flicked the reins and the horses started moving. The guard at the gate nodded them through and then they were free of the Kingdom and on their way to Alexandria.