#how can people rush this much to isolate others and do so with such- ugh

[thegreeninyoureyes]

this man chose the worst person to talk about competitiveness with lmao

[ofmermaidstories]

Mermieeee hiiii💖💖💖 hope ur having a good dayyy🥺🥺💖💖💖 hehe, hopefully the week treats you kindly 🫶

For the ask game:

22, 8, and 9

starry, my starshine girlie, hiiii. 🌟🎨 i’m having a great day!!! it’s monday for me—and better now that you’re here. 😌💕

8. which of your own projects have shaped your writing the most? in what way?

i said surrender and a personal project, earlier, but tbh something as well. for the same reasons—finishing it let me see what i was capable of—but also because it like, really cemented to me the kind of stories i like writing. adventurous romances. 🥹

9. what are you best and worst at when writing?

the number one comment that’s shared with me, no matter the fic, is emotional! 🥺 which is a great compliment. 🥹 worst would be hmmmm. i think i have too many blindspots to pick what i’m truly worst at, in my actual writing, but i do struggle with starting. 💀 making myself sit down and do it. everything else—whether it’s like, clumsy characterisation or rushing things or whatever—can be worked on and improved, but an actual creative habit? ugh.

22. how much of your own self/experiences do you believe pours into your projects? if this differs per project, which projects have the most and least of you?

Ohh. I mean—they’re all different!!! Despite the genre—self-insert—i do try to make the Readers their own people. 🥹 But like, even their canon counterparts will end up with tiny mermsisms. 🥺 It’s hard to completely divorce your sense of self from something you’re creating!!! You can only create with what you know, you know? It’s like being given a box of crayons—those are your tools! So for me it’s like: I like flowers, I like art and comics, I like jewellery. I like flowers, so sometimes I buy them from the florist; I like art and comics, so I keep up with industry news and chapter updates. I like jewellery, so I followed some indie artists on instagram and saw their processes. Bam, we have our three Readers. I’ve worked in retail and administration and hospitality; so we’ll throw them all into service-roles. I like people who are kind, who believe in something, who love whole-heartedly—so we get our love interests. I’m a pretty passionate person by nature, with a lot of different interests, so they tend to manifest in the fics and plots and characters in a multitude of ways!!! I’ve been in love and I’ve been isolated and I’ve been held together by tape and rage and other people—i like action films and pulp thrillers. Sometimes people are nice to me when I’m out in the world, getting a iced coffee; sometimes they’re rude. It all goes in, one way or another. Mixed in with whatever the plot needs, whatever the characters need. Whatever would be the most fun or whatever would make the most impact. 🥹

[prettybutter-flyy]

An Overreaction: A short story.

Ugh. Why won’t I die?

I wake up. Again. Why? I stumble out of bed and head to the bathroom. When I look in the mirror, I try smiling at the man I see - but I don’t even recognize him. When did he age? When did bags begin growing under his eyes? When did he start losing his hair? I don’t feel like the spry, enthusiastic man I once prided myself on being.

In my youth, days started with a spring out of bed and gratitude for the chance to participate in society, to socialize, to connect, to learn! I used to love to move and dance and flirt or, sometimes, even work! The synergetic zeal of getting into a flow or tossing ideas back and forth with people you trust… God, time has beaten that out of me. Beaten me senseless.

I don’t think time is my enemy here, though. Time itself has not robbed me of my faith in humanity - in my faith in myself. A fatherless childhood will do that, too. A promotion that should have gone to me did it. A woman that would have been happier had she picked me did it. Ending up alone in a huge house that I own, with no one to fill it with new memories, did it. So now I haunt my own home, stalking about for stimulation. For purpose.

I am utterly useless, and I seem to be the last one to figure it out. Every single day. When will I die? I roll my eyes in the mirror, dismissing those happy morning thoughts, to actually do my bathroom business.

…

The sun shines through the windows of my house. I don’t feel its warmth on my skin; instead, the air conditioning isolates me from the heat of a Texas summer morning. I take my first bite of the stale breakfast I made for myself today (like I do every day): cereal. The sugar gives me a rush. As I’m eating, the young woman I see every day, jogs down the street.

I wonder where she could possibly get the energy and time to run. Maybe if I didn’t have cereal every morning, I might have some energy to go on an early morning run, I think as I crunch on my Frosted Flakes. I know they’re bad for me, but I love them. I think we all have little vices we indulge in to make life a little more exciting.

I see her every day with her dumb little dog. She usually comes by a couple of times; I assume she does laps around my small block.

Today, she stops in front of my house and takes a deep breath. She is huffing and puffing as she pulls her phone from her pocket and snaps a “selfie.” While she does this, her dumb little dog begins to do its business. Disgusting. Then I chuckle because, judging by the angle the girl was standing, she may have captured her dog in a compromising position.

Then, to my indignation, the woman continues her jog, as if her dog had not just dropped a fat turd on my lawn!

The nerve of this girl! To drop the burden of cleaning up her dog’s bowel movements on me, a feeble old man - what right does she think she has to my time? To my lawn! I feel the rage pent up inside of me—I don’t even finish my cereal. I march myself to my garage, open my garage door, grab a lawn chair from the pile of fishing gear in the corner, march myself to the lawn, and set my chair—and my butt—next to the stinky excrement.

The smell is potent, and my anger is all-consuming. The hot morning air was likely to thank for that. But I stayed there. She comes down the street multiple times a day, every weekday (I know this because we often wave to each other), and it is Friday. She will be back. And she will answer for this crime. And it is a crime; in this county, it is LAW that you must pick up after your dog. I should call the police! They can air her out without much escalation. As much as I would enjoy teaching her a lesson, they can teach her a much more expensive lesson. One that will ruin her month(ly budget).

I seethe. Much like the stench of this dog dropping, I am festering in this Texas heat—really, how can anyone run in this?! My vexation jumps out of my body, tapping my toe to the ground, crossing my arms so tightly I fear I may get a heat stroke.

When she turns the corner for the second time, her dog trotting along her side, I begin to shake. Her stupid dog’s happy little face also enrages me. The woman smiles and waves at me—like she usually does—as she runs closer and closer. I feel my own heartbeat in my chest, my face puffy and red, as if I'm the one running.

I stand and wave back at her angrily to get her attention. “You’ve got some nerve!”

Now she seems to understand that I’m talking to her. She slows her jog until she’s jogging in place and takes out one of those high-tech earphones from her right ear and places it in her hand.

“Excuse me?” the woman stops jogging in place. The dog sits, calmly, happily. “Is something wrong?” She’s not even tired from the running, no panting. I don’t think I even see the glisten of sweat! What is she? Some kind of Olympian?

“‘oH Is SoMetHiNg WrOnG?’” I mock her. “Uh, yeah, you let your dog poop on my lawn, and you just left it here to stink up the whole neighborhood!”

“Oh!” She covers her mouth, eyes wide with embarrassment. She is older than I’d thought, maybe only 20 years younger than me. Up close, she has kind eyes and a muscular build. She pulls a bag out of her pocket. “I’m so sorry! Max here pooped before we got to this house, and I had to use my last bag, but I just ran to get some more so I could clean it up when I looped back around!” She bends down to pick up the poop and pet her Max. “I’m sorry!”

“Good!” I grunt, “Don’t you EVER pull an entitled, lazy stunt like that again!”

She continues to make excuses, like she’s some quirky awkward protagonist in a coming of age movie, “It’s funny, when this happens, I take a picture of the house he did it on, go grab a bag, and come back!” She shows me the photos on her phone, which she wasn’t in at all. Just the mailbox and the dog poop. She swipes a couple of times to show similar photos.

I scoff, “So this happens often?”

“I mean, as often as it happens to most dog owners.” She fiddles with the bag.

I roll my eyes at her back-sass. “Well, I should have called the cops. They’d teach you some kind of lesson about personal responsibility. What, do you think everyone just cleans up after you? That you’re the main character of the world? Is that why you think you can just do whatever you want to other people’s property?”

“I don’t think,” she stammers. “I just—” She looked like she may cry.

So I continue. Maybe I can scream a tear or two out.

“You probably don’t even own a house in this neighborhood, do you? You’re probably a renter, aren’t you? Because if you owned a house, you would understand what it was like to keep your shit nice and protect it from those who want to destroy the life you’ve made for yourself!”

“No one else has had a problem with me here. I pick it up every single time! I didn’t mean to disrespect you but what was I supposed to do? Pick it up with my hand?”

“You don’t know ANYTHING about respect! I had to work for 55 years before I could finally retire in this house. I’ve taken care of it every day of my life, because I RESPECT my things. My lawn is not public property! Stay off of it, or I will call the police next time! It’s illegal to not clean up your dog’s SHIT!” I spit at her. As I speak, the embarrassment in her eyes fades and changes to something else. A different type of embarrassment?

The woman was (probably) about to give me another round of excuses, but almost like someone flipped a switch in her brain, her face eases. “Ohhhhh,” she says as she puts her earphone back in her ear. “You just want to argue with someone.” She begins to jog away, almost nonchalantly. Almost.

“I do not!” I start shouting again. “You need to learn some goddamn respect! What, your generation can’t even have a conversation without getting oFfEnDEd? Do you know how much a fine for littering—”

She whips back around, angrily, ripping out both of her fancy earphones this time. For a second, I feared she might hit me. The calm runner I saw every day was gone. She was basically panting, like what she was about to say would take all the energy she had left.

“You came outside from your rEspECtaBle, cold air-conditioned paid-off retirement home to sit in the hot Texas sun with DOG SHIT. And then you yelled at me for a misunderstanding that—” she holds up the doggy bag. “I HAVE CORRECTED and have apologized for, and now… you’re STILL yelling at me?” She scoffs. “Because you know soooo much about respect!”

She shoves her earphones back into her ears and she and her dog skip along their merry way, but not before leaving me with a pitiful, “You’ve got nothing better to do.”

I watch her jog away, the sun cooking my skin. I could just run with her. I used to have energy like that, long ago. Now I glance back at my home, not wanting to go back in.

…

After putting up my lawn chair and closing my garage, I return to the kitchen table. My skin cools down, and it feels as if someone’s poured ice water on my fire. That other embarrassment was pity. I know, because I feel it for myself now. I return to my cereal. It is soggy.

[i-am-not-your-little-princess]

I've posted it here, if you guys don't want to read it on ao3, but I'd appreciate the kudos and comments!

Sinners

Julieta just wants to get railed.

Camilo just wants to sleep.

At least one of them gets what they want.

Agustín is awoken by someone trying to reach a hand down his underwear. His eyes flutter open to see his wife staring openly at him with an absolutely evil look on her face.

"Julieta" He hisses, "What are you doing?!"

Julieta gives him a wolfish grin, but doesn't say a word. Agustín almost chokes on air when he feels his wife wrap her hand around his shaft, and pulls his dick out of his pajama pants. His mouth has gone dry.

"Julieta, we're in a church. Our children are meters away. We can't be doing this here!"

Julieta, still saying nothing, lets go of him, grabs the blanket, gets up and starts walking. She abruptly turns around, beckoning a confused and befuddled Agustín to follow her. He puts his… stuff back in place and grabs their pillows (just in case).

She leads him through several hallways and up a couple flights of stairs before they come to a heavy duty steel door.

Julieta opens the door and they're on… the roof? She smirks devilishly at him.

"T-t-he roof? Why are we on the roof?"

She's still smirking.

Julieta turns around, wraps her arms around him, grabs his ass, and pulls them flush against each other. Agustín flushes and gulps. She whispers seductively in his ear.

"Well, papí, we're not in the church anymore. And no one can hear us. "

He can feel all the blood rushing to his cock. He grinds his hips against hers, teasing her. Julieta whimpers.

"Oh, I like the sound of that. Just one question?"

"Yes?"

"How did you get that mattress up here?"

"Oh, that." She said airily. "Luisa helped bring it up. I told her we wanted to stargaze tonight. She believed me." She shrugged.

"Oh you naughty, naughty girl!" Agustín laughed as he kissed her passionately and fell onto the mattress.

 

 

Camilo grunted and groaned as he tossed and turned, trying to sleep. He let out a rather loud sigh as he flopped back onto the mattress.

"Ugh, why can't I sleep?!" He groaned.

He thought he heard someone shuffling around but didn't care too much to check. He grumbled something unintelligible and tried to get back to sleep. He tried counting sheep, counting backwards, doing breathing exercises; anything to help him get to sleep. Nothing worked.

He tried closing his eyes again. Through his eyelids, he felt someone standing over him. Camilo snapped eyes open and saw a shadow.

"AHHHHHH!!!!"

" Shhhh!! Keep your voice down!! People are trying to sleep!" His Tío Bruno hissed.

"Well I'm sorry! You scared the living daylights out of me!"

Bruno ignored him.

"Come with me." Bruno waved his hand for Camilo to follow.

"Where are we going?"

"You'll see."

As they were walking out, they didn't see that a certain couple's mattress was empty. Soon enough, they'll both wish they had.

 

 

They finally pass through a series of hallways and flights of stairs when they come to a heavy steel door.

Camilo turns 0to his uncle in confusion. "The roof? Why are we on the roof?"

Bruno turns to him.

"The quiet helps soothe me. I'm used to being isolated, all the time. I'm not used to hearing so many sounds at night, while I'm trying to sleep. It's calming, being up here, where there's only the sounds of the winds rolling, or the crickets chirping. Sounds of nature. I thought it might help you too."

Camilo gives him a look that Bruno can't quite read. "Thanks, tío. I appreciate it, I really do. Camilo flings his arms around his uncle in a crushing hug.

"Let's go."

Bruno opens the heavy door. In a few minutes, he'll wish he hadn't.

They step out onto the roof. Bruno doesn't hear anything, at first. Then he heard it.

Moans. Loud moans. Bruno knew who those moans belonged to, and they weren't Pepa's. You see people tended to think Pepa was the wild one in bed, and maybe she was, but she wasn't that loud. Now his sister Julieta, on the other hand, was LOUD. VERY LOUD . Yes, prim, proper demure Julieta was as they say "A lady on the streets but a freak in the sheets." Bruno had lost count at how many times his sister and her husband came down for family breakfast, STILL unaware of just how loud they were.

The moans only continued to increase in tempo and volume. Bruno cringed and turned to his nephew, "Heey, sorry kid, you know what? Maybe we should save this for another night? Hey! I have an idea! Let's go for a walk! Yeah! That sounds like a good idea, right? A walk? Yeah, let's do that! How about it?" 

Bruno was suddenly feeling very skittish. Was Camilo really not hearing this? How was he not hearing this? How could anyone not hear this?

Camilo ignored him. Seriously, this boy could be so dense sometimes; it was surely going to get him hurt somewhere down the line. Like in the next 5 minutes…

Camilo looked at him in confusion. "Tío, you dragged me all the way up here at 2 AM, the least you can do is keep your word!"

Camilo pushed past him before Bruno even got the chance to respond. He got more and more anxious the further onto the roof Camilo went.

Bruno heard a shrieking ""FUCK! I'M SO CLOSE!! OH MY GOD!! ""

He saw Camilo freeze in utter shock. 

Oh. He saw them.

And then a disgusted, "OH MY GOD! MY EYES!! MY EARS!! "

Then, a thud, and Julieta gasping, trying to cover herself with a blanket. " Camilo?! What are you doing here?!"

"I'm up here with Tío Bruno! He brought me up here because I couldn't sleep!! What are you doing here?! Actually wait, don't answer that, I already know, unfortunately!"

Bruno definitely blocked out the rest of that conversation. He wanted no part in it. At all.

 

 

Meanwhile…

 

After a few minutes of intense groping, grinding, and more than passionate kissing, Julieta had Agustín pinned on his back.

She had the waistband of his pajama pants gripped in her tiny hands. She started to slowly pull them down, never taking her eyes off of her husband.

Agustín groaned as she groped his crotch through his underwear. His breath hitched when she began to pull his boxers down his legs, slower than she'd ever done before.

"You're just intent on torturing me tonight, aren't you, mi amor?"

Julieta gave him a seductive smirk. "Oh, maybe a little. But you'll soon get what you desire. You just have to be patient. "

She wrapped her hand around her husband's shaft. He whimpered.

Agustín's hips twitched as he felt her lick up the underside of his shaft. His breath hitched when she stuck his tip in her mouth. She was giving him that look. 

Looking at him like he was a damn piece of meat through those long, luscious eyelashes. He groaned.

He moaned and gripped her hair when he felt her take his entire length in his mouth. She reached under his buttocks to pull him even further into her mouth. 

He could feel her tongue swirl around his shaft and her cheeks hollow out as he grew inside her mouth. He pressed her head further down when he felt Julieta cup his balls.

He knew he was close when he started to buck into her mouth and felt his balls tighten.

He came with a groan and she took every inch of him and every drop of his cum until he was sucked dry and boneless.

"Was that good for you?" Julieta climbed on him like a panther stalking its prey.

Agustín was still trying to catch his breath. "Oh, it was so good for me, amor. Now let me make it good for you. "

He pulled her up, so she was straddling his hips. "You're wearing too many clothes. Let's even the score a little bit here."

Agustín slowly started to lift her nightgown up, inch by inch, when he came to see what she was wearing underneath. Or rather, what she wasn't wearing underneath.

He laughed, "Oh you little devil. Is this for me?" He brushed his fingers along her slit, very lightly. Julieta quivered. "Just for me?" He nibbled on Julieta's earlobe.

Julieta let out a strained "Yes."

She pulled the nightgown over her head. She was finally laid bare to him.

Agustín pulled her into his lap. He inserts one, two, three fingers into her entrance. He swallowed her moans in a heated, open mouthed kiss.

He pulled his fingers out from her, and put them in her mouth. "Taste yourself."

She sucked his fingers dry.

Julieta felt all the heat in her body travel downwards when Agustín rubbed his tip through her folds.

"Don't tease." She growled. She felt even more heated when she saw his smirk. She ground her hips against his.

Julieta was caught by surprise when Agustín entered her. They both moaned in unison. It had been far too long. His wife was truly a genius. He would've never thought to bring this mattress up here.

She looked like a vision, with her long, curly hair down, her head tilted back in utter pleasure, the moonlight casting an ethereal glow on her skin. She was beautiful. He couldn't believe she was his.

She rode him hard, grinding and bouncing on his cock. She pulled on her nipples, squeezed her breasts and let out a loud moan.

Agustín bent his legs, braced his feet on the mattress, and began to plow into her. Julieta couldn't keep her head upright. She began to shriek.

"Oh my god, Agustín, por dios , you feel so good !!" He plowed into her harder.

He reached up and rubbed her clit. She writhed and ground onto his hips even more.

"Oh my GOD! Agustín, fuck!! Yes!"

He grabbed her hips and slammed them down as he pistoned his own hips upward, making Julieta shout and tremble in ecstacy.

"YES! YES! Oh, God, right there, right there, right there, right there, YES! Oh my god, AGUSTÍN !!"

Her pants reached a fever pitch, turning into high-pitched squeals of pleasure.

"FUCK! I'M SO CLOSE!! OH MY GOD!! "-

"OH MY GOD! MY EYES!! MY EARS!! "

Agustín was so startled, he bucked his hips hard , and she went flying off of his lap. She vaguely remembered her husband muttering "Mierda" as he tripped and fumbled, trying to get his clothes back on without their nephew seeing his… parts.

Julieta frantically tried to cover herself with the blanket. She could still feel her wetness in between her thighs. She crossed her legs under the blanket and tried not to whimper. She was so close to her orgasm and then… this. It had been so long since she and her husband were intimate, through no fault of their own. Julieta couldn't help it, she was upset. 

" Camilo?! What are you doing up here?!"

"I'm up here with Tío Bruno! He brought me up here because I couldn't sleep!! What are you doing here?! Actually wait, don't answer that, I already know why , unfortunately!"

Julieta didn't know what to say to that. On one hand, she felt for her nephew. On the other hand, she really, really wanted him to leave, so she could finish having her way with her husband. Her pussy clenched at the thought of it.

She was about to open her mouth to speak when Agustín interrupted her. "Bruno's here? What's Bruno doing here?"

Camilo groaned.

"Nope. Nope. No. I want no part in this. Bruno turned to Camilo. "I told you we should go back! I told you! As soon as we stepped on the roof I told you! As soon as we stepped on the roof, I heard them!! How could you not hear them?! They're so loud, they probably woke half of the Encanto!!"

Agustín sputtered. Julieta blushed scarlet.

"Come on, guys! W-we weren't that loud! Were we?"

Camilo threw his hands in the air, exasperated. " You weren't! She was! " He said, pointing to Julieta. "I am scarred for life!! You guys are worse than my parents!!"

Bruno turns to Camilo again. "Ok kid, I'm sorry, I think it's time we get going now. It's late."

"I don't know what's worse, me having nightmares because I'm scarred for life, or me being sleep deprived because I'm scarred for life!! I'M SCARRED FOR LIFE!!"

Bruno pulled Camilo towards the door and turned and waved awkwardly.

"Uh, bye."

The door slammed.

Julieta and Agustín looked at each other. They didn't know whether to burst into fits of uncontrollable laughter, or die of embarrassment.

Julieta gathered herself and grabbed her slippers to make a run for the door. Agustín clasped his hand around her wrist, stopping her.

"Where are you going?"

She sighed in defeat, pouted, and sat down on the mattress. "Well the mood is ruined. I was just thinking we should go back down and sleep while we can. It's almost 3AM."

Agustín, who was sitting on the mattress, grabbed both of her hands to pull her down, so she was sitting between his legs, her head resting on his chest. He placed two fingers under her chin and tilted her head up to look at him.

"The mood is only ruined if you let it be ruined. Amor, you went through all this trouble for us to finally get some alone time. It'd be a shame to let it go to waste because of a stupid embarrassing encounter. How many times do you think Camilo has walked in on his own parents?"

"You know what, you might be right."

Agustín crossed his arms over his bare chest. "Of course I'm right. I'm always right."

Julieta snorted, "Sure you are, Amor."

She watched him as he pulled his pants back down. She squealed in surprise when he roughly pulled her into his lap, pulling the blanket from her naked body. Her skin erupted in goosebumps and she shivered when he inserted three fingers into her folds again.

He kissed her neck. "You know I'm right." His hot breath on her neck made Julieta shake even more. She didn't even know what he was talking about at this point, she just knew she needed to chase the high that she was currently on. She rolled her hips down on his hand. He swallowed her whines in a fervent kiss and pulled his hand out of her.

"Taste yourself."

For the second time that night, Julieta sucked her arousal clean off his hand, staring at him openly with those wide princess eyes she knew he loved. She surged forward and fused their lips in a searing kiss. She whined again when he stroked his tip through her sopping wet folds and let out a groan of relief when he entered her.

Their kisses quickly turned feverish when Agustín braced his feet on the mattress, and snapped his hips upward at an absolutely feral pace. His arms were wrapped around her back, locking her in. She was completely at his mercy. All she could do was wail in ecstacy.

And she did.

"YES! YES! YES! FUCK, AGUSTÍN, YOU FEEL SO GOOD!!"

Hearing his wife's pleasure only spurred him on further. He bucked his hips up into her faster and watched as her eyes screwed shut.

"Say it."

"Ngghnugh."

"What was that? Use your words."

"More papí! Please, more! Please, please, please, please, I need more!!"

He snapped his hips up once more and drove into her like a jackhammer in overdrive. She howled.

"You fill me up so good Papí!! OH FUCK!!"

Agustín ran his hand down her back, slowly, until his hand rested on her ass. He squeezed and groped the supple flesh, then raised his hand and brought it down, hard with a loud crack. He watched, mouth parted as it jiggled and rippled before bringing his hand down again and again.

"MÁS DURO, POR FAVOR!!

"Oh, you like that, hmm?"

" Sí papí! Please duro!!"

Agustín switched hands and struck her other cheek in rapid succession. Julieta let out a loud sobbing moan that picked up in tempo, the faster his hips went. He could feel her become wetter and wetter with every slap.

" Please papí ."

"Please what?"

"Please, please, I'm so close, cum inside me por favor!"

"You want me to cum inside of you, princesa? You're close?"

" Oh sí, oh sí, oh sí, oh sí! Por favor, I want to feel your cum drip down my legs all day, papí."

Agustín growled, "Look at you, my naughty , naughty girl. You really want it?"

"I want it, papí. Please, please, please give it to me." She begged.

Agustín grabbed her face and pulled her into a searing kiss, while his other hand crept down between their bodies to stroke her clit. Julieta didn't take her eyes off of him.

He picked up his pace again, and Julieta pressed her forehead against his, whispered something unintelligible and fused her lips to his again, in an open mouthed, erotic kiss.

Agustín braced his feet against the mattress again and slammed into her once more.

"Oh, FUCK, AGUSTÍN, DIOS, YOU FUCK ME SO GOOD!"

He broke their kiss to take a nipple into his mouth. He was pretty sure that this sent her over the edge, because her keens grew louder and more erratic with every passing second, until they turned into wails of euphoria.

"Please, I'm so close, I'm so close, I'm so close papí ! CUM INSIDE ME POR FAVOR! I need it, I need it, I need it!! "

"Let go, princesa, cum for me, I'll take care of you."

Julieta's moans reached a fever pitch and turned into screams when Agustín pinched her clit and plunged into her with one more hard thrust. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head.

"YES, YES, YES, FUCK, AGUSTÍN, RIGHT THERE, RIGHT THERE, RIGHT THERE!! YES!!"

Julieta writhed and quivered as Agustín filled her with his release. She trembled as she came down from her own release.

She laid limp on top of him, burying her face in the crook of his neck, still quaking from her orgasm.

Agustín carefully shifted them so they were both lying on their sides. Julieta tightened her arms around him, snuggling closer to her husband. She felt him pull the thin blanket over them and she sighed in contentment. Agustín rubbed his arms down her bare back, pressed a kiss to her head and murmured in her ear, "Amor, we can't stay up here much longer, we're going to have to get up and leave soon."

Julieta whined. "Mmmm, I'm tired."

"I know amor, but we don't want to get caught by anyone when we come back down. I don't want to have to explain this to any of our family members, especially Luisa. "

"Camilo already caught us. I'm sure everyone will know before we even sit down at the breakfast table this morning. He's going to tell everyone anyway . "

Agustín sighed. "I still think we should move now. Mirabel was right. It does look like it's going to rain after all."

Julieta pouted. " Fine. "

Agustín chuckled. "C'mon amor. I'll help you up."

Julieta grunted as Agustín helped her sit upright. He handed her her nightgown and got dressed himself. He grabbed the pillows and the blankets and pulled Julieta to stand up from the mattress. She looked up at the sky. It was beginning to drizzle.

Julieta gave him an exasperated look. Agustín smirked. "See, I told you, I'm always right."

Julieta rolled her eyes. "Let's just go, before it starts pouring. Here, I'll take the pillows and the blankets. You can take the mattress."

"Why?"

"Well, I'm not too keen on ruining a perfectly good mattress by getting it wet from the rain all because we didn't feel like picking it up and moving it!"

Agustín placed his hands on Julieta's shoulders, and kissed her on the forehead, placating her. "Ok, ok, I'll carry it down, don't worry mí ángel."

" Please be careful. I don't have my gift to heal you anymore. I can't help you if you get hurt like I used to."

"Don't worry, amor, I won't fall."

Surprisingly, they made it back without any accidents, completely dry, without anyone else (besides Camilo and Bruno) catching them. They climbed back into bed, curled around one another, and fell asleep, almost missing breakfast.

Later, they'd wish they actually did miss breakfast.

All hell would break loose.

 

 

That Morning…

 

Camilo walks into the church kitchen, grumbling and tired. His whole family is already in the kitchen, save for his Tío Bruno, and Julieta and Agustín. ' I wonder why?' He thought sarcastically.

He fell into the chair beside Mirabel, still grumbling. His prima turned to him, "Rough night?" She asked, mockingly.

"You have no idea. And you do not want to know."

Isabela places a plate of arepas on the table. "What doesn't Mira want to know?"

"You don't want to know either."

Bruno chose this moment to walk into the kitchen, Julieta and Agustín following not far behind him.

He smirked. This would be the perfect moment to embarrass them in front of everyone.

Julieta was pouring coffee at the counter. Agustín had his arm around her waist. She whispered in his ear, 'I can still feel you dripping down my thighs.' She looked at him with a smirk. His tío suddenly blushed hard and gulped audibly. Camilo looked at them in disgust.

"Actually, none of you want to know."

Pepa leaned against the counter. "Ok, now I'm interested. What do none of us want to know?"

"Isabela, do you know how loud your parents are?"

Julieta choked on her coffee.

Agustín blushed scarlet.

Pepa and Félix erupted into peals of laughter.

Abuela turned around and pretended to be more interested in finding the orange juice in the refrigerator than the conversation that was about to unfold in front of her.

Dolores was frozen in shock.

Mirabel buried her head in her hands and groaned ' Why?'

Isabela looked at her primo, then her parents and back and forth again.

"No. No. Nope. Hell no. I want no part in this conversation. I've lost my appetite. Goodbye. "

"Where are you going?"

"Somewhere far away from here!"

"It's raining though!"

"So I'll get wet!"

She stalked out the door, leaving absolutely no room for arguments.

"I caught them on the roof! Tio Bruno took me to the roof because I couldn't sleep, but then we saw them, now I don't think I'll ever be able to sleep again!"

Luisa looked confused. "You got traumatized by seeing them stargaze? Oh! How was that, by the way? I bet it was so romantic!"

Mirabel stared at her hermana in utter shock. She absolutely couldn't believe her naivety.

"I-wha-Luisa, no. You don't actually believe that, do you? Please tell me you don't actually believe that?"

Luisa looked like she wanted to cry. She wanted to believe they were just stargazing, she really did, but in the back of her mind, she knew that wasn't what they were doing. Luisa looked at her younger sister.

"Wha-then what were they doing?"

Camilo groaned. "THEY WERE HAVING SEX! VERY LOUD SEX!! It was TRAUMATIZING!!"

Luisa's spoon clattered onto her plate. She got up from her chair so fast, it fell to the floor with a loud bang.

"I-you-wha-EW! That's why you wanted me to help you bring that mattress to the roof?! I can't believe you guys!"

She ran from the room in complete humiliation.

"Well that went well." Mirabel deadpanned.

" Mirabel!"

"What? You two have no room to talk. You did this to yourselves."

"Well it's Tío Bruno's fault too! If he hadn't taken me on that roof, I wouldn't be so traumatized!"

Bruno stalked over to them, waving his hands in a disagreeing manner.

"Oh-no, no, no, no! You don't get to blame this on me! I heard them as soon as we stepped out onto the roof! I tried to get you to turn around! You didn't hear them! How did you not hear them! You wouldn't listen! You barreled right over to them with absolutely no hesitancy! If you had listened to me and gone on the walk like I suggested, we would've heard them from the ground, and you would've thanked me for saving you from being traumatized! This is as much your fault as it is everyone else's! So don't pin it on me!"

Pepa was still laughing. "Now that sounds about right!"

Julieta pouted.

Pepa turned to her sister. "Why are you upset hermana? Are you mad because we know about your secret spot?"

"Yes!"

Pepa and Félix looked at each other and snickered

Bruno turned to his mamá. "Mamá, are you ok? You're awfully quiet."

Alma couldn't believe this. Did her daughter think she wanted more grandkids?! Her children were almost 51, for crying out loud! She was way too old for this. "I am an old woman. I am too old to be dealing with this. Certainly way too old for more grandchildren! Are you going in that direction, because I certainly hope you're not!"

Alma sighed and turned from her place at the stove. "I'm just very tired of having these conversations. I don't know how many more times I can explain that I don't want or need to know about any of your sex lives. I don't need to see it. I don't need to hear it. That is between you and your spouses. I think I speak for everyone here, on that matter."

"Y-yes, mamá."

Of course, Pepa, ever the shit-stirrer, had to impart her 'words of wisdom' upon the family and come up with some smartass comment to annoy her sister with. Oh, joy.

"Mama, you should know by now that none of us are going to listen to you. Juli may seem timid and prim and proper to you, but looks can be deceiving. She may even believe she's going to keep her word to you. But once she gets him alone, forget about it!"

She turned to her sister who, along with her husband, was blushing profusely. "Demure Julieta is all just an act. She's, what do you call it? 'A lady in the streets but a freak in the sheets!'"

" Pepa!"

Julieta and Agustín were now so embarrassed, you could feel the heat on their cheeks.

Félix doubled over in laughter. "Ay, Cuñado! Congratulations on effectively traumatizing mi hijo even more than Pepi and I have! And that's a feat in itself!"

" Papí! I am traumatized ! Stop making light of my horrible situation! All I wanted to do was sleep! Bruno brought me up to the roof because he said the quiet was comforting. I went with it because I really just wanted to sleep! I know now that I should've listened to Tío Bruno, and I should'veturned around, but I didn't, and now, I'm going to be TRAUMATIZED for the rest of eternity and beyond !"

"Ok, now you're just being overdramatic, Milo. It'll always be in the back of your mind, but at one point, you'll get over it and you won't think about it as much."

"You know what, I don't thin-"

Julieta and Agustín looked around sheepishly, "-You know what? We're just gonna go... take a shower... together! To... save water! Yeah! Agustín! Come on!"

She froze in concern at her youngest daughter, who was sitting at the table with her head down, looking quite ill.

"Mira, are you ok? You look... a little green."

"No, I'm not ok ! You two are absolutely disgusting! I am officially scarred for life!"

Mirabel got up from the table, "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go find some bleach, and bleach my brain... and the shower too, for that matter, after you're done with it! Other people use it, you know! I can't even look at you two right now!"

Mirabel was headed straight for the exit when Camilo barrelled right into her. He grabbed her arm and pulled her out of the kitchen.

"I'm coming with you, prima."

They ran away without looking back.

Antonio had been silently observing the chaotic conversation, until the moment he asked a question that Pepa thought she'd had years to answer. They were apparently not-so-lucky. She was going to kill her sister and brother-in-law. And her husband, for that matter, who was finding this whole conversation very amusing. Pepa wondered how amused Félix'd feel when she castrated him.

Antonio turns to her, eyes wide and innocent.

"Mamí, what does sex mean?"

Pepa sputters.

Felix's laughter gets even louder.

Julieta and Agustín are frozen in shock.

Dolores is silent, anticipating Pepa's answer.

And Bruno and Alma look as if they want to melt into the floor.

Pepa gives Dolores a desperate look, silently begging her eldest child to save her. Their staring contest continues for a few seconds more before Dolores tells her mother exactly what she didn't want to hear.

"Why are you looking at me? I'm not his mamí."

She rushes out of the room. Pepa dies a little more inside.

Agustín and Julieta make a break for the exit to the kitchen. Not on Pepa's watch!

"Get back here Hermana and deal with the consequences of your actions!"

Julieta and Agustín turn around in the hallway.

"He's your child, not mine. I already had to do this three times, so should you!"

"You know, Pepi, she has a point!"

" Shut up Félix!"

"Have fun in your shower!"

"Oh, we will !"

"Well I hope you slip and fall!"

Julieta fired back, "Well you're just jealous because I'm having SEX and you're not!"

Pepa couldn't believe the audacity of her sister being right!

"W-well I can't think of anything to say right now because you're right, but when I do..."

"You'll do what? Come on Tino, let's go have REALLY LOUD SHOWER SEX!!"

Pepa stalked back into the kitchen. Her mother was sitting at the table, her head in her hands. Bruno was sitting back in his chair, head back, staring at the ceiling.

Bruno turned to his mamá, "You know, now would be a really great time to hide in the walls. Forever."

"I would definitely join you."

"Too bad there aren't any walls anymore."

"Maybe I can get Señora Guzman to let us stay in her house for a few days. Just to get away from the family for a bit. Lord knows we need it."

Alma abruptly gets up from the table. "Let's go ask now."

"But it's raining."

Alma gives him a pointed look. The room is deadly silent. Then… a cacophony of moans and groans, coming from the bathroom. Mother and son look at each other. Bruno springs from his chair.

"Let's go."

"Hey! What about us?!"

Bruno turns around and in true Bruno fashion, deadpans, "You'll live."

They leave Pepa standing in the doorway, flabbergasted and stuttering.

"Mamí, you still didn't answer my question!"

Pepa groaned. Of course she had to pay for her sister's sins.

 

To be continued…

[wizkiddx]

living and reviving II

yep when I said three parts I think I meant 4 oops

summary: an overdue conversation that has to happen - like it or not

warnings: cheating, swearing, pregnancy talk, lots more angst, think thats it?

tomhollandxreader

/////////////////////// prev

So with a new sense of dread and fear and complete and total isolation you uttered three single words before hysterically running away.

“Don’t follow me.”

Not now, not ever.

That had been three weeks ago.

And it still fucking hurt like hell.

It had ended up that Yamna had taken you back to hers, where you had stayed for a couple nights. During that couple of days, Tom had tried. He had tried to apologise, tried to explain, tried to fix things. But it just wasn’t that easy.

Whatever he said, it didn’t take back from the fact that he had in that moment meant it. So no amount of sorrys could ever take that back.

After everyone had realised just how serious their situation was, Tom had moved out of your shared flat - so you could at least be in the place you were comfortable. Afterall the nursery was built in your flat and clearly it was you doing all the baby stuff for the moment. Thankfully Yamna, having been cut loose so without job, offered to move in with you. Which was probably the only thing keeping you going.

Well, that and ben and jerrys ‘phish food’. Honestly the shop must think you’re running some sort of ice cream black market at the rate you’re getting through their tubs.

Everyone kept parroting that it wasn’t good for the baby. Too much ice cream . Too much heavy lifting. Too much stress.

And yes, it probably was. But that was out of your control . The stress and lack of man in the household meant you had to do the heavy lifting of shopping from the car up the stairs. Shopping meaning ice cream, which you only depended on so much because of the stress.

It was a vicious cycle of hell.

Even Yamna, the person you were relying on keeping you sane had started walking on eggshells. It was as though you were literally about to pop, she always had to have at least half an eye on you. You were even banned from locking the toilet door - just in case.

It felt like you were a captive animal, people kept coming to observe you, giving sad looks before gleeing the scene.

You hadn’t been sleeping well either. Of course, being 3 weeks of your due date didn’t help - but neither did the lack of Tom. In fact, for the first time since shit had hit the fan, you had actually been managing to get some decent sleep when Yamna knocked on your bedroom door, quietly calling your name.

“I’m asleep” Groaning, you pulled the covers further over your head, praying to god that she’d leave you alone. But of course that wasn’t happening, she just lightly chuckled before you felt the bed dip - she had perched on the edge… Toms side.

“You never normally sleep talk.”

“I’m never normally this sleep deprived.” She sighed, whilst you still stubbornly kept your eyes closed.

“I’m sorry I woke you…. but this is important.”

“What?” Almost grunting, you threw the covers down looking up at her in anticipation. That was another thing about pregnancy - you were always on high alert, always worried.

“Toms here.”

“Tell him to f off.” Quickly you stopped caring about what your bestmate had to say.

“He’s saying that he’s the little ones dad and that he deserves to be involved and…. and I think I might agree.”

“I deserve a boyfriend who stays loyal to me so clearly neither of us are getting what we want.” You weren’t angry at Yamna and snapping at her wasn’t the answer. And yet you still did it.

“Y/n….I love you and I am completely on your side. I just think that maybe, perhaps, you should at least manage to be civil before baby arrives. Otherwise… thats going to be a lot to deal with all at once.”

It was your turn to sigh, deep and heavy (or at least as deep as the baby let). Most infuriatingly she was right. The conversation had to happen at some point. With a baby there too it would only be even more traumatic.

“He’s here now?” It only dawned on you how broken you actually sounded when the words croaked out of you.

“Yeh hunny… I didn’t let him inside so he’s standing outside the door looking like a dickhead right now.” The image cheered you up a little, enough to sit up in bed and be wrapped in Yamna’s arms. Her actions said it all, she really only meant the best for you and knew how hard this would be. After a moment she leant back. “I almost considered calling the paps so they could get a picture and label him as a groveling dick.”

“You should of.” Of course you didn’t mean it, but the answer had you both laughing. It took a minute to calm down before she changed subject slightly.

“You want me to make myself scarce? I can hide in my room or go to the shops or-“

“Text the guy from the bar - you deserve a night off ‘babysitting Y/n’ duties.”

“I’m not babys-“

“Yes you are. Go out with him and have some fun, I’ll be fine.”

“You sure?”

“Yeh”

That was a bare face lie - but Yamna had been almost too good to you. She really really needed a break. Especially as the current plan was she’d be helping with the newborn too. Right now you wouldn’t have wished a baby on yourself - never mind your best mate.

“Okay, get ready then babe - but do it slowly, leave him waiting outside in the cold for as long as possible.”

“Obviously.” You laughed, hauling yourself out of bed, where she gave you one more encouraging hug before leaving.

After hearing Yamna leave, and brushing your hair and throwing on a new pair of trakkies and hoodie, you slowly walked towards the door. It felt as though impending doom were on the other side and every fibre of you wanted to scream and run the other way. But it just had to happen at some point. Why not now?

With a final sharp exhale, attempting to pull yourself together, you opened the door. Immediately your heart sank, seeing nothing. Had you really been that long? And even so, was a 10 minute wait enough for him to give up? You could already feel the hormonal pregnancy tears starting to spring, when a grunt drew your attention.

What you hadn’t considered was the fact Tom was ready to camp out, sitting on the floor beside your door. Springing to his feet, he seemed shocked you’d actually opened the door - makes two of you. When Yamna left she had told him you were coming, but seeing really is believing.

“Y/n! I-I… I wasn’t sure you were ever going to answer.”

“You and me both.” You replied dryly, still leaning on the door. “Do you er…. do you want to come in?” Again he seemed shocked, as though he wasn’t sure you meant it.

“Is that-that okay?” Shrugging you just nodded, stepping back so he could get in. He did pay half the mortgage afterall.

“You want a drink?” He quickly declined your offer, not vocally but instead rushing past you to the kitchen and turning the kettle on himself.

“Your the pregnant one. Go chill on the sofa, I’ll bring you a cuppa.”

And a bit taken a back by his forcefulness you followed instructions, from the sofa watching how effortlessly he danced round the kitchen. It wasn’t shocking, it was technically his kitchen too. But seeing him there felt so alien, almost transporting you back to much much simpler times. Seemed a lifetime ago.

After a couple of minutes, he rounded the sofa with a hot chocolate in one hand for you (because caffiene is bad for the baby) and a cup of Yorkshire tea in the other.

“So… how have you been?”

“Ate a lot of ben and jerrys” You answered without really answering, except he knew you all too well.

“That bad?” He sighed, scrubbing a hand over his brow “how about the baby?”

“I don’t tend to carry an ultrasound on me but she’s been keeping me up all night kicking - so normal I guess.”

“Thats good” He spoke before realising what he said. “Sorry no I um-I don’t mean it like that!” You all but laughed in the face of his flusteredness, only making the tips of his ears go pinker.

“I assume you had something to say and that you came here for a reason rather than just pity me?”

“I want to make things right Y/n - I-I mean your having my kid.”

“OUR kid”

“ Exactly! And-and I love you too and-“

“Bullshit” You may have murmured it under your breath but you had intended for him to hear.

“Oh come one Y/n, you know that!”

It was like the man was asking to be yelled at.

“Don’t sit there trying to patronise me! I THOUGHT i knew it but then I saw you all over another girl. So yes, I’m calling bullshit.”

“Ugh I… If your not going to even try to hear me out then…”

“Then what Tom? You gonna kick me out. I mean this is your flat after all! Maybe you’d like to dump the mother of your unborn child homeless on the street and forget about us - how’d that sound? I’m sure your fans would blindly applaud you.”

“Listen! Please would you just listen to me.” His voice was loud and tone harsh, making you flinch a little. Not because you were ever worried he’d hurt you - but how this wave of uncomfort shuddered through your body, baby even squirming in discontent. So focused on that you just nodded, shifting back into the sofa.

Tom had noticed your reaction and seeing you seemingly scared of him like that, well it broke his heart. Even more.

“Sorry I didn’t mean to shout, I just…. I really need to try and fix this.” He leaned closer, letting out a thankful breath when you just nodded, as if to say go on.

“I’ve really really missed you… these past couple of weeks I’ve never felt so gulity in my life. Not because of what I did! Well yeh that but-but more how much it hurt you and-“

“Fuck.”

You couldn’t help but let out that little curse of pain as a new wave of pain, which seemed to originate from your lower back, shuddered through you. Tom looked up from where his eyes had been nervously wringing his palms whilst he spoke. Rubbing a hand over your belly you shook your head and motioned for him to continue.

She was just kicking really really hard. Right?

“Uhm yeh so I just wanted to properly tell you everything that happened that night so at least we are on the same page? A-And I’m not going to try and use this an excuse but I had been drinking so-“

Seemingly baby disliked the end of that sentence too, causing another rippling wave to echo through your body, feeling as though a band was pressing tightly round your stomach. With another small curse it forced you to stand up, in the hope that’d ease her. Clearly she was as done with his shit as you were.

“Need a water.” You muttered, already waddling to the kitchen, where you heard Tom follow you immediately - like an inpatient dog.

“Y/n sit down I can-“

He was silenced by you freezing and grabbing his arm tightly - a physical contact he hadn’t been expecting from you.

“Tom… get your phone.” You spoke slowly, still not having dared to have moved an inch - fingers almost white from how tightly you were squeezing his forearm.

“Wha-are you-are you okay?”

“I think my waters just broke. Get the phone. Now.”

~~~ feedback is really appreciated + would love to know what u think as still in the process of writing so can be guided / helped by asks !!! ~~~

taglist: @maraudersandco @@minejungwoo @sippin-on-tea @thegirlintheswivelchair @lovehollandy12 @hollandlover19 @thefernandasantana @hunnybunimdun @hallecarey1@cedricdiggorysimpp @msmimimerton @hollandfanficlove @pandaxnienke @crossyourpeter @thegirlwiththeimpala @tom-softie @sunwardsss @spiitfiiires @radcloudenthusiast @ladykxxx08 @prancerrparkerr @wildxwidow @arctic-monkcys @ownbauer13 @tomhollandlol @marvelsbitch8 @peterr-parkourr @lizzyclifford13-blog @user1683 @elishi03

[writingsfromhome]

Sorry x Rare

A/N: I got two lyric requests for Sorry by Beyonce and Rare by Selena Gomez. They were both sort of two sides of the same coin so I wrote them together it mostly goes from rare to sorry. Thanks for the requests, fingers crossed it lives up to what you wanted! <3

Synopsis: You and Harry have been together for a long time but he’s not the same man you fell in love with anymore.

-----

I move my dinner around on my plate, my gaze on the man pacing outside the restaurant on his phone. My man. But it didn't really feel like that these days. These days, Harry was a stranger to me--late nights, phone calls interrupting dinner, waking up to find him gone and not even sure if he'd come home at all.

I watch him remove the phone from his ear in a rush, stare at it, and then shove it aggressively in his pocket. He walks back in, cheeks pink and huffing.

"Should we ask for the bill?" He sits down in a flurry. I stare at his barely-eaten meal and my own dinner mashed to bits.

"We've barely had dinner."

"Babe, we've been here for over an hour since..." he takes his phone back out to inform me of how much time exactly but something must catch his attention because his sentence dies on his lips. I stare, he was so distant lately. "I'll drop you off at home, I've got to meet the boys they decided to talk business-"

"It's 8pm on a Thursday," I state the obvious. "Can't you catch up with them la-"

"This isn't an argument Y/N," Harry finally looks at me. He was done discussing it. He lifts his hands to the waiter and a minute later dinner's been paid for. He wasn't my baby, I think as we stroll outside to his car. I don't know who this man was.

***

I wake up the next morning with the weight of Harry on the other side of the bed. I could smell him, the booze sitting in his pores.

“Ugh,” I groan, not wanting to smell that first thing in the morning. I get up and start my day before I head to work. Soon, Harry appears squinting as I stir sugar into my coffee.

“I need a coffee,” he says, his voice hoarse. It used to sound sexy but now it was just another reminder that things changed. We lived like roommates and it hurt that he never wanted to talk. Half the time, he acted like I wasn’t even there.

I watch him settle with his coffee, taking the first sip and letting out a deep breath. A memory comes to me suddenly, the first year we were dating,

“I think this is the best coffee I’ve ever had,” it was the first night Harry had stayed the whole night and I’d made him coffee in my outdated coffee maker. It came out burnt half the time but that morning’s cup was decent. We’re swaddled in my blankets--the room I rented back then had poor circulation in the winter.

“I think you’re still slightly drunk,” I lean my shoulder against his and cup the warm drink. “I’ve definitely had better coffees.”

“Maybe coffees are just better the morning after,” he says, glancing at me and I know he can see the flush on my cheeks. He knew I was shy talking about certain things in the light of day.

“We can say that,” I mumble into the cup. “It’s just nice to have a heat source.”

“Here,” he takes the cup from me and reaches over to put both on the nightstand.

“Hey I wasn’t done with that.”

“I know but if you’re cold, I know this other heat source--it even works for hypothermia.”

His statement causes a blood rush that warms me already but I don’t say no to what he has in mind. I could make us another cup later.

Harry catches me staring when he looks over and raises an eyebrow. I snap out of my thoughts and twist my lips into a smile, looking back at my own drink bitterly. Who was this man in front of me? Out loud, I ask: “How was your night? You came in late.”

“I was out with the boys.” he says in a tone that meant he didn’t want to talk about it. “It got late.”

“A text would’ve been nice,” I say, still looking at my cup.

“S’not like you were waiting up,” he turns to walk back towards the bedroom.

“Learned not to,” I mumble but I know he’s heard me with the way he pauses. But he didn’t care enough to argue, dispute it, nothing. He leaves.

***

"Guess who just made a commission that's more than I used to earn in a year?" April walks into the small office, an infectious grin on her face.

"You sold him on it?" I put away the file I'm working on and jump up to hug my friend.

"I had to flirt a little--give him a vivid picture of what he could have there, and he signed! I'm bloody brilliant."

April was my American ex-pat who I met when she was looking for a flat a few years ago. And now here she was, working for me at the small real estate office I managed with a few other people I considered friends.

"Do you know if he was single?" I tune back in to hear Janelle asking.

"No, don't give her bad advice!" I scold Janelle. “We don’t date clients.”

"I'm miserably single," April pouts. "I'll take advice even if it’s bad."

"Bad advice is to stay with your college sweetheart to the point where you're not sure he even cares about you." I say to no one in particular. It was just us in the office today, and they knew everything about my life so I didn't care much. But the pin-drop silence that follows is different. I look up to see my friends eyeing each other. "What?"

"Nothing." They stay tight lipped but I push and they crack. "Well, so...we know things are rocky between you and Harry..."

"Things aren't rocky," I clarify. "They're just...nonexistent."

"Right," April slides closer. "Soo, we saw him at the club yesterday."

I raise my eyebrow, "He told me he was meeting up with his boys."

"Oh!" They sound surprised I know, but they look at each other again so I push them. "He was...there was a girl? Sitting on his lap for most of the night? Like, nothing happened I don't think so?" She turns to look at April at the end of each sentence.

Personally, I feel gut-punched even though I suspected this. I knew he wasn't where he said he was going to be sometimes, or with who he said he was going to be with. But he cut our own dinner short last night to be with strangers yesterday? I grip the pen in my hand.

"Y/N honestly...you know we love you and support you. But, you're a special girl and you deserve better than that sod."

"Yeah," Janelle puts her hand on my shoulder. "You're a gem Y/N. There's someone else out there who's gonna see how rare you are."

"I know," I blow my cheeks out. We'd had different conversations like this before, although never this direct. I guess we'd never had direct proof of what my husband was doing until now though.

"He's an idiot not knowing you're so rare," my friends try to comfort me. I feel my eyes well up and I swipe at them. I wasn't going to cry at work but they must sense the tears because they excuse themselves, "We're going to get you a tea, and some pastries to celebrate April's sale. April?"

I keep my face buried in my hands as they leave, take a few deep breaths. "I am rare," I say to myself but even that makes me laugh bitterly. Harry and I had been together for 5 years and here I was trying to count up all the reasons we should stay together when he didn't even care. He was out with other women, and I was waiting around for him.

"I'm rare," I say again. "I'm special, I deserve better. I...deserve better."

When will u be home tonight? I text Harry before I lose my nerve.

Busy he says. That’s it. And then, Why?

What time? I ask again.

8 or so, he responds.

Okay, we need to talk then. I put my phone away, too scared what he might text back. A tear falls from my cheek onto my keyboard, landing on the letter H. It mocks me. I wipe it off, and before I can think about what I'm doing I smash the letter down with my fist. I stand up and walk to the back of the office, a window overlooks the busy street. I'd had enough, I decide. Fuck Harry.

I’m not sure how long I stand there stewing, but my friends walking in with pastries and tea ends the emotional boiling pot from overflowing.

"Thanks," I take the cup from them.

“So we were talking and...” April looks at Janelle and she nods. “You should come out with us some time. Like...tonight. Dance with us, with other people...”

“I...I’ve got something at 8,” I come up with an excuse. As angry as I was, I wanted to have this conversation. It was long overdue.

***

I check my time again, the last text Harry sent me Ok. But it was 8:25 and Harry still wasn’t home. I’d give him five more minutes, I decide. I’d already tried to ring him with no answer.

I stare at the ring on my finger, it was supposed to symbolize a promise he made to me. What a fucking joke. I should’ve never said I do in the first place.

Was it young love, I wonder. Did we do this too fast and we were just set up to fail? But I remember the good memories, the soft and sweet times between us.

“I-I’ve never done something like this before,” I tell Harry. “I hate heights.”

“Listen,” he crowds around me, blocking my view of his friends who are walking up the narrow trail like it was any old walkway. “You go in front of me, I’ll have my hand on your back the whole time. I won’t let you fall. I promise.”

I look up into those gentle eyes and swallow my fear. “Okay.”

“I promise it will be so worth it,” he gushes, his excitement uncaged now that I’d agreed. “There’s no lights there so the stars are so bloody bright--I know you’re going to love it!”

I can’t help it, my lips crack into a smile at his boyish excitement. He catches it and pauses, a breath in this whirlwind of a night. What started out as a house party turned into a walk to a local beach which turned into a hike into the woods and up a precarious--and very steep--ridge to get to an isolated lookout. Only with Harry did I find myself in these situations. And I loved it. I loved him, I realise then. My expression must change because he tugs on my hand, probably worried I’d change my answer.

“Walk ahead,” he instructs and I nearly tip toe on the ridge that’s at least 30 feet across. But his steady hand on my back pushes me gently and I walk across confidently until I look down 2/3 of the way. I freeze in place but Harry’s ready. “Y/N, you’re safe here. Look at me-look...”

I crane my neck and he grounds me, oh my god how did I just realise now how in love I was with him? He squeezes my hand, asks if I was okay. I had to be, I couldn’t stay stuck in the middle.

Inch by inch we finally make it to the other side and I jump off with a yelp which sets Harry off in a burst of laughter. Pretty soon he’s lifted me over his shoulder and carries me to the lookout on the edge. My feet had been through enough, he’d said.

And he was right--it was so worth it; the view with all the stars laid out. The buildings and their light pollution below were blocked out by the outcrops and it made the stars twinkle in all their glory. It made it the perfect place to be with the person I loved.

“Isn’t it the most incredible view?” Harry whispers in awe behind me, his arms wrapping around my waist.

“I.....I have no words apparently,” I laugh and turn in his arms. “Thanks for pushing me, this...it was worth it.”

He tucks a strand of hair behind my ears and gazes at me in a way that makes me want to squirm. But I hold his gaze.

“Do you know how beautiful you are?” he asks with a smile.

“Compared to the view,” I glance behind us. “I guess I’m alright.”

“No,” he guides my face back towards his. “This view over that one, any day. M’just that lucky.”

My words die on my lips as I’m overwhelmed by this feeling between us, the one I thought would keep us together like this forever.

He raises an eyebrow when I go silent and I shrug, “I’m all out of words today.”

I close my eyes as he kisses my temple. I turn back around and we spend the moment in silence, drinking in the view. His friends chatter around us but they’re background noise. My life felt like a movie right now.

Before we leave as a group, I tug Harry back. This was a good as place as any to tell him. I press my lips to his, and it takes him a second but he’s kissing me back. Before it can get carried away I push away and tell him what I’d been thinking all night, “I love you.”

He takes a step back, and then he’s grinning and pulling me back. “I love you! I love you listen, I’ve been wanting to say that for weeks!”

“Weeks?!”

“Yeah weeks! My sister said it was too soon, I might scare you off!”

I think about a few weeks ago, I was intensely shy around him even then. Maybe she was right, but the idea that he talked about me to his sister makes me flush. I wrap my arms around his waist “I just...this moment is so perfect. I never want it to end.”

“It doesn’t have to.” he’d promised. “I’m yours forever Y/N.”

When 8:30 comes and goes I call April, she lets me know where they were. “We’re so happy you’re coming! Are you sure you don’t want us to meet you somewhere else?” she shouts into the phone. When I tell her I just wanted to be where they were she reminds me to text them when I was nearby.

I have to dig into the back of my closet, past the pantsuits I wore to work, the casual dresses and loungewear. I still had some of my old party clothes, just a bit tighter than they used to be. But for where I was going, it would fit in.

Before I leave, I take a pen and scrawl a note: “Great talk"

My friends spot me as I walk in. The music is instantly too loud, the lights too bright, and there are too many people. But one of my them shoves a drink in my hand and pretty soon it’s the best place on earth. It was exactly where I needed to be. I turn off my cellphone and enjoy myself.

After a certain point, I don’t even know who I’m talking to, but pressed up against a body, feeling wanted, it drives me to keep dancing all night. Eventually, I crash at April’s and don’t roll out of hers until 11 the next morning. Harry’s barely an afterthought until I’m tucked in the taxicab taking me home and turn on my phone. 8 missed calls, 2 voicemails and 13 texts.

I’m shocked at the volume, Harry hadn’t blown up my phone like this in over a year. I listen to one voicemail: “Where the hell are you? I come home an hour late and you’re bloody gone with this stupid note here. Pick up! I’ve called you a billion times.”

I stare at my phone, I hadn’t heard Harry this passionate since...well it was a long time. And all it took was going out late and not answering his calls, giving him a taste of his own medicine. It almost makes me angrier; I had to partake in this juvenile dance to get his attention, even though we’d been married nearly 2 years.

He’s on a call when I get home, talking numbers or something. I head directly to the shower, clean up, and take my sweet time. It must’ve driven him mad waiting for me because by the time I’m out he blows a gasket.

“What’s this stunt you pulled last night? Wanting to talk and leaving me a stupid sarcastic note just because I’m late? Where were you?”

“Out,” I shrug. “I didn’t know you were late. You didn’t text.”

“I didn’t tex--oh I see, now we’re being petty yeah?”

That irked me, “I’m not being petty. It’s not like I get the same courtesy when you’re out late!”

“I’m busy, I can’t always be texting you!”

Excuses, I laugh and he looks at me like I’m crazy. “Busy what? Screwing other women-”

“Don’t be making shit up-”

“I’ve had people tell me that they see you with other women Harry! S’not a far stretch!”

That quiets him. Finally, he comes forward to stand inches away. “Y/N, c’mon. You and me...this is stupid. Sure I go out to party but I’m not-”

“Stop.” he was actually trying to talk his way out of this. And because I’d rather step in front of an oncoming train than cry in front of him, I head to the front door and walk out. I’d find someplace to crash today, but I wasn’t doing this.

***

“How’re you doing?” Janelle asks. I’d shown up at her doorstep and she set up her guest bed. She had plans so I spent most of my time burying myself in work, trying to get rid of all that angry energy pent up in me. Janelle had just come home.

“I’m just trying to move on. I don’t want to talk about him, I just don’t care at this point--I’m fed up!”

“As you should be,” she agrees. “Listen, I know we had a crazy night yesterday but I’m going out with some friends today and...maybe it’ll help you?”

I think about the killer headache this morning, but I also remember how good it felt to forget for a bit. I agree. Before I know it, Janelle’s found something that fits me and we’re back at a different club than the night before. Her friends are familiar faces but after a few drinks we’re all best friends. It feels great. Until I spot Harry’s face.

“That’s enough,” his face looms over mine as he pushes away the man I’m up against.

“What the fuck Harry...” I trail off as he pulls me away from the middle of the crowd. I try to pry his hand off but there’s too many people and he’s moving too quickly...and I’ve had a lot of drinks. “Let me go!” I say when we finally step away. We’re in what must be a private room. He seemed familiar with it--of course.

“So just because you heard I’m out and about some nights, you decide to come here and fuck around with random men?”

“Excuse me?” I stare at him, he was out of his mind. “I’m out having fun with my friends! I’m not here because of you.”

“Really? You come to the same place I come to all the time and dance with these strangers? And you’re drunk as fuck!”

“Since when did you care?” I ask. “Just leave me alone. You’ve been doing that perfectly fine the last few months.”

“I’m your bloody husband Y/N, you can’t just-”

“Then act like one!” I shout, and in the muffled quiet of the room with the bass thumping through it rings out. “I don’t need you! And you made it clear you don’t need me. These rings are a fucking joke, here-” I take mine off and throw it at him.

“You don’t mean it-”

“I do.” I give him a level stare, suddenly clear-headed. Maybe I’d process it later, but right now I was finally seeing what he’d become. He deserved to feel how I felt, and quite frankly, I didn’t give a fuck. I flip him with both hands, “Quite frankly Harry, you can suck my d-”

“Harry!” A shrill voice rings out from the entrance that now carries the loud beats of the dance floor, swallowing my words. “Liam told me you were here!”

I glance at the brunette in the doorway and back at him. I couldn’t even muster an eye roll; I had enough.

“Y/N!” Harry calls my name as I walk out.

“No it’s me, Becky?!” she tries to correct him. I can’t help but laugh as I make my way back to my friends with a drink in my hand, feeling free.

***

“Y/N, it’s Harry. I don’t know how it got this shite just please call me back. Just give me five minutes that’s all I n--message deleted”

“He’s moved on to the office phone then?” Janelle asks, her desk was beside mine so she’d heard him as I checked my messages. It was two weeks since that glorious night when I’d dumped Harry’s ass. Although a lot of my things were still at our house, I was just staying in a hotel right now while I figured things out. One thing I knew for sure though, I didn’t want to see him again.

“It’s pretty pathetic,” I say. It was also pathetic how long I’d stayed waiting around for us to be magically fixed. But that was something I was working on getting past.

“You’re glowing without him,” April says from where she’s getting her files together. “Haven’t you got that showing out east?”

“Yeah, oh god is that the time?” I rush to get my files in order. “I’ll catch up with you later-”

“We’re still getting drinks after?”

“Yes, drinks!” I call out as I leave the office and head down to the lobby. I don’t expect Harry there, and I barely have time for him as he comes up to keep my pace.

“Harry, I’ve got somewhere to be please leave me alone.”

“Y/N, wait just please listen to me.”

“No.”

“2 minutes!”

“Not even 1,” I spot my cab out front and head towards it. I’m about to get in but Harry holds the door. “Harry let go I’m going to be late.”

“Just let me talk to you, please!”

I finally look at him and he’s quite a sight. His hair is matted and without it’s usual bounce. He’s got a rough look and a 5 ‘o clock shadow.

“You had plenty of time to talk to me for months, you were too busy at the club. Sorry not sorry,” I tug at the door and he lets go, I don’t spare a backwards glance as we drive away.

One of the showings is successful, I manage to sell the family on the home and we set up a meeting to go over details at my office later in the week. I’ve got a bounce in my step as I return to the office. I tell the girls I’d meet them at the bar as I finalize my papers at the office. My bounce falters when I go head out after 5 to see Harry waiting outside the building.

“Y/N,” he calls out when he sees me. “I’m not going to leave until you talk to me.”

“That’s called stalking,” I say. A few people walking past us turn to glance at him and he notices. He moves to the inside lobby and asks me to follow. With a big sigh I do.

“I know what I did.” he begins.

“Congratulations,” I roll my eyes.

“No wait, I know what I did to you. And sorry can’t cover it. Just let me make it up to you, we have history and-”

“You don’t get it.” I stop his monologue from going any further. “I’m gonna be just fine. Without you. You didn’t care about our history until you couldn’t have me. I don’t know what happened to you Harry, but you’re not the man I fell in love with-”

“I know,” he says, tears of frustration coating his lashes. “I fucked up, I-I didn’t see what I had right in front of me and I just-”

“Let her slip away? Is that the best you can come up with?” I scoff. “You know what Harry? I’m done with this! Boy...bye.”

“Y/N just--” he grabs my arm before I can leave and pushes something cold into my palm. My wedding ring.

“I don’t want this,” I push it back in his hand.

“Please just take it--hold onto it,” he pushes it back into mine and closes my fingers over it. “I can’t...I can’t hold onto it just take it! You don’t even have to think about it-”

“Harry,” I soften my tone. He was desperate and even though some part of me thought it was about time he felt this type of way, my heart hurt a little. I didn’t want him to see that though so I just tuck the ring into the pocket of his button up and pat it. “Goodbye Harry.”

I walk away with my head held high even though he calls out to me. I walk the few blocks to where my friends are waiting and their warm smiles are enough to help me push the memory of Harry’s teary eyes, and the real history we did have once upon a time away. I was done with him, no longer thinking about him.

I just kept telling myself, I was rare like a gem and I had to see that. And maybe one day, someone else will too.

[rubykgrant]

How Everybody reacts to being outside of their armor-

Tucker; YEE-HAW, he’s been waiting for this for a WHILE, and at first he wears as little as possible, just tank-tops and shorts unless it is literally too cold (eventually he starts having fun with wearing cool clothes). He basically doesn’t want to sit still or sleep much for a while, he just wants to go out and DO STUFF like a regular person and be around other people

Caboose; He feels so AWKWARD at first, he’s not sure how to walk around and do stuff without an outer “shell”, but the he gets distracted by how much he likes seeing everybody’s faces, so he’s happy. Now that he doesn’t have the armor on, he’s slightly more sensitive to touch and thus more aware of being gentle when he does stuff (he’ll still tackle-hug his friends, but they’re used to it)

Grif; Heck yeah, it is SO much easier to curl up and nap when you’re wearing a soft hoodie and sweat pants instead of clunky armor… not that it ever stopped him, but now he’s at MAXIMUM COMFORT (has to remind himself not to do the touching-people’s-faces-thing, but his sister understands this is both an armor-thing and a result of being isolated, so she’ll squish his face with her hands first, and he returns the gesture)

Simmons; He feels NAKED, and he does NOT like it, now everybody can see how much his face twitches, he’s so self conscious of his expressions and how it feels to touch things, and he has a mini panic attack when people look him in the eyes for a while… eventually he settles down a little bit, but it takes a while for him to figure out what to do with his hands when he’s just standing around (his hair also got long at some point when he forgot to keep buzzing it short… it kinda looks OK, though?)

Donut; also YEE-HAW, he feels naked as well, but he DOES like it. Now he can’t wait to get some sun on his skin, go on a shopping-spree for new clothes, and visit a spa for some over-due pampering. Once he gets the rush of being free of the armor out of his system, he enjoys being outside a lot, just sitting in the grass under a tree, maybe smelling some flowers

Kai; She’s having fun wearing different outfits again, and she likes getting to know everybody by their faces… since she had trouble with the whole color-coded armor thing. She also really wants to play around with everybody’s hair (they try to protest, but Kai gets them when they’re distracted, and TA-DA, you got braids or buns going on).

Doc; He feels a little odd, and he wishes he could relax because he DOES want to be comfortable without the armor, but he’s sort of torn between liking that everybody looks at him more and not knowing what to do with this attention. He gets a little emotional over the fact that now, when somebody wants him to come a long with the group, they’ll just sling an arm around his shoulders

Wash; Somehow even MORE awkward than Caboose, mostly not wearing the helmet… but now his beard bothers him less, which is nice. He just keeps getting weird shivers from actually FEELING the wind on his face. This is making his goofy-nervous-laugh happen more, and he feels like he’s having flash-backs to his first day of high-school (like he’s gonna get made fun of for wearing dorky shoes)

Carolina; HATES IT. Almost getting sensory over-load from TOUCHING THINGS, and she doesn’t like the fact that while she still has impressive muscles, wearing armor for so long means she doesn’t have any callouses… her hands and feet are all soft, ugh. She decides the best way to fix this is to go barefoot on runs through hiking trails, and hit the punching-bag as much as possible (surprising nobody)

Sarge; Threw an entire man-baby temper-tantrum hissy-fit because he DID NOT WANT TO TAKE HIS ARMOR OFF. They had to hold him down and peel it off by force… he’s gotten really pale wearing the armor all these years too, and now he’s determined to get sun-burned so he’ll be “red again” (also insists on keeping his hair buzzed short and wearing work out clothes ONLY)

*when they return with synthetic bodies*

Tex; She felt all weak and withered at first, which she most certainly did not care for… once she was strong enough to walk around on her own, she started spending as much time as she could outside. She had the same reaction as Carolina; toughen herself up. She eventually gets satisfied with her own muscles, but is trying to work on her “people skills”… she’s more than just a “mean murder machine”, she can be NICE, dang it!

Church; Very weak at first, too… but he got to be surrounded by his friends when he woke up, and he milked the attention. He’s touch-starved, and beyond the point of trying to front like he doesn’t care about people anymore, so he welcomes the hugs. At first he has to be on a liquid-only diet, but once he can eat real food, he starts putting some meat on his bones (he also wants to get strong enough specifically to carry his girlfriend around. That’s it, that is his entire motivation

[flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash]

Irresistible Danger - Part 54

Synopsis:  After being caught outside the compound on your own, Negan decides to punish you in the best way possible ;)

Words: 3,305

Warnings: nsfw, smut, swearing

ID Masterlist can be found HERE

Masterlist of all my fics can be found HERE

Allies and Foes

You woke up the next morning to an empty bed, the cooled sheets and pillow telling you that Negan had been gone for a while. A quick glance at the clock showed it was almost 9am, and you lazily stretched underneath the red satin, enjoying the ability to sleep in. 

You vaguely remembered Negan waking you up with a kiss to the neck earlier, when it was still mostly dark in the room. He had murmured something about a meeting with his Saviors, and you had responded by turning over and grumbling for him to let you go back to sleep. The last thing you remembered was his low chuckle, and then you were out again. 

Reluctantly rolling out of the ridiculously luxuriant bed (seriously, where did he find such a soft mattress during the apocalypse?!), you started getting dressed. Unfortunately, you only had the outfit from yesterday, which wasn’t the cleanest after being out in the woods, but it would have to do until you returned to your own room. 

The intrusive thought hit that maybe you could leave a few items of clothing here, so that you had more morning-after options for next time. You quickly dashed the thought, not wanting to get ahead of yourself. Sure, you had now spent the past three nights in a row with Negan, and two of those nights had been in his bed, but that didn’t seem like long enough to start moving in items. Just the thought of Negan doing something so domestic as allowing you to start taking over his armoire and bathroom drawers made you chuckle at the ridiculousness of it. 

Though, doing so would mean more events like last night could easily occur, since you wouldn’t have to keep running back to your room for more clothes or other belongings. Your mind flashed to the shower, and what the two of you had done in it the previous evening. How you had gone to your knees and proceeded to blow both his cock and his mind. He had been particularly vocal, his sharp grunts and loud moans echoing off the tiles as he ran shaky fingers through your hair and made you feel like the most seductive woman on the planet.  

Still smiling at the memory, you finished zipping up the boots, grabbed Ricardo, and headed out of the bedroom and across his office to the door. Creaking it open a few inches, you peeked down the hall. Seeing that it was clear, you quietly exited the room, shut the door behind you, and speed-walked down the halls and to the stairwell needed to get back to your room. Letting out a little puff of relief when you made it to your own floor, you slowed down the pace a bit, no longer needing to scurry like a roach caught in the kitchen when the lights turned on. Honestly, the fact that you had yet to run into a Savior or wife while making the morning-after trek to and from Negan’s room was really damn lucky and-

“Hey!”

The sound of a voice just as your hand was reaching out for the door knob to your room caused you to jump about a foot in the air. Whirling around, you saw none other than Maria at the opposite end of the hall, waving her hand in greeting as she came towards you. 

Crap. Couldn’t the universe have at least let you put on clean underwear first? 

Much as you didn’t want to interact with someone at the moment, you couldn’t help but recall the last time Maria had tried to speak with you, in this very hall. It had been after Negan confronted you about the pregnancy test, and you had completely ignored her and rushed past without a word. At the time you had been too emotional to care, but now you knew that she was owed an apology, not to mention the fact that you hadn’t really chatted or hung out with her since the night out at the picnic table. Doing the mental math, you realized that late night conversation had to have been a little over two weeks ago. Yea, you had been a shit friend to Maria lately, and it was totally deserved karma to have her pop up when you weren’t really prepared for social interaction. Well, you would just have to get over it. She didn’t deserve to keep being pushed aside, and you wouldn’t do so to her again. 

Pasting on a grin, you opened the door and gestured for her to come inside. She preceded you into the room and settled on the rickety little bed. You tried to nonchalantly lean Ricardo against the wall, in hopes she wouldn’t ask why you were walking around with a weapon so early in the morning. Thankfully, she seemed too busy scanning the meager surroundings to notice. It had been a while since she was in your space, and you tried to take in the tiny room from her perspective, wondering if she found it lacking. You weren’t sure what the wives’ rooms looked like, since apparently Negan wasn’t keen on them having visitors up there, but if it was anything like the fancy clothes they wore then it was sure to be much nicer than your own room. 

Just thinking about them made a lump of discomfort form in your stomach. It wasn’t as if you had forgotten about the fact that the man you were developing feelings for had a harem of women he called his wives, but it had been a lot easier to push them to the back of your mind when one wasn’t sitting in front of you. 

Not wanting to waste time with small talk, especially when you both were smart enough to know it was a shallow distraction, you dove right in.

“I want to apologize for the other day, when I ignored you. That was shitty of me, and I’m sorry.”

She gave a tiny smile, and you immediately knew that she wasn’t mad. Of course she wasn’t. This was Maria, and she was one of the most forgiving and patient people you had known since the apocalypse began. The fact that she was still willing to even deal with your fickle ass, especially after your last couple of interactions, was proof enough of that. 

“It’s alright,” she replied. “You looked pretty frazzled anyways. Everything okay?”

“I don’t know about everything, but things are alright,” you mumbled, almost hoping she wouldn’t hear the words.

You started picking at a stray thread on the grey cotton sheets, unable to help but compare them to the luxury of Negan’s satiny red ones. Ugh, why didn’t you just stay in his bed all morning, instead. You could’ve enjoyed physical comfort and social isolation there. 

Able to feel the weight of Maria’s gaze, you lifted your head to look at her. As expected, she was watching you closely, the slightest ghost of a smile tipping one corner of her mouth. “What?” you asked, not rudely, but perhaps a bit impatiently. She looked like she knew a secret that you didn’t, and you wanted her to just spit it out already.

“You spent the night with him,” she stated in a gentle tone, and when you jerked in surprise and opened your mouth to say....well, you had no clue what you were going to say, but thankfully she cut you off. “Which means,” she continued with a raised palm, a silent gesture for you to not get defensive just yet, “that considering how negatively you viewed his multiple wives situation, you must also know he stopped sleeping with them.”

Mouth still hanging open, you stared her down for a few seconds before snapping it shut. Making a “go on” gesture with your hand, you waited for her to continue with wherever it was she wanted this conversation to lead. 

She then told you how she had suspected for a while now that the reason why Negan stopped coming to see the wives was due to his interactions with you. Her theory had been confirmed after your late night chat out at the picnic table when you admitted to being in his bedroom, somewhere none of the wives had been allowed to enter.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you whispered, clutching the bedsheet so tightly your fingers were about to go numb. 

“Honestly? Because you weren’t ready to hear the truth, and I knew you’d have completely shut down at the very thought of it. You still wanted to see him as a monster, so I figured I’d just wait and see how things played out. See if he’d keep allowing you to get close to him, or if one of you would get spooked and run, so to speak.”

You mulled this over. Was she right? If she had told you a couple weeks ago that he had suddenly stopped sleeping with all of the wives, would you have believed it? Doubtful. And even if you had, never in a million years would you have listened to her theory that his drastic change in behavior was because of the few interactions he’d had with you up until that point. 

Much as you hated to admit, Maria had been right to keep quiet about it. Though you did wonder how she thought you had found out. Did she assume Negan had told you? Or maybe she was aware of how Amber had been using Trixie, and had come to the correct conclusion on her own. Maria was intelligent, so there was a good chance she knew more about the goings on around here than people gave her credit for. You wanted to ask how much she knew, but also didn’t want to risk outing Trixie, since she had told you that information in strict confidence.

Instead, you asked, “So now that you think I am ready to hear the truth, is there anything else I should know? Are the others coming up with a plan of how to quietly dispose of me, so that Negan will pay attention to them again?” 

You said it jokingly, but were honestly curious to know how they felt about these recent changes. Amber obviously wasn’t your biggest fan, but what about the others? Did they see you as a threat to the luxuries they enjoyed here? Honestly, if the roles were switched, and they were the ones threatening whatever you had going on with Negan, you’d be tempted to sharpen mini-Ricardo shanks and take them out one by one. Your subconscious whole-heartedly agreed, giving a battle cry and stabbing at the air, as if taking out imaginary opponents, while your brain sighed and rolled its eyes.

“Well actually, we did recently have a group conversation about you.” 

She said this calmly, but it still made your eyes go wide as you exclaimed, “You what?”

“It was a few days ago. Amber had been throwing a real tantrum after she tried to take Negan a dinner tray, and found him already in his office eating with you.”

Oh yea, you remembered that event, vividly. It had been about a week ago, before his last supply run. It was the evening he had confessed to you about his dead wife, and then Amber interrupted by knocking on the door with a tray. It had been apparent she wasn’t happy to see you there, nor to be sent away by Negan, so you weren’t surprised to hear she hadn’t handled it well afterwards. 

Nodding for her to go on, Maria continued. “We let her vent about it for a couple days, since I think we were all hoping she’d eventually let it go the way she does most things that get under her skin. But she was like a dog with a bone this time, and kept running her mouth to all of us about how you were stealing Negan from us, and that if we continued to just sit back and let this happen, we were putting our status here in jeopardy.”

Sweat broke out on the back of your neck at the possibilities of where this story could be going. Just the thought of the wives sitting around talking about you as a potential threat or enemy made your stomach flop, but you stayed quiet and let Maria finish.

“She was really trying to get the rest of us riled up, and then one evening she started telling us all that we better be prepared to start scrubbing toilets for points, since we were willing to just let him toss us to the curb. That was when Sherry finally stepped in and put her foot down.”

“Wait, Sherry?!” you blurted, absolutely shook at this turn of events. 

Maria nodded. “Yep. She told Amber that all she was doing was starting unnecessary drama, and that Negan had never given any indication that we would lose our privileges or have to start working for points just because he isn’t fucking us every night. Amber tried to argue at first, but Sherry held her ground. Told her that she’d gladly go get Negan, so Amber could tell him her concerns face-to-face, rather than continuing to make assumptions behind his back. That shut her up real quick, and she stormed into her bedroom and stayed there the rest of the night. I haven’t heard her say anything else about it since. She’s still sulking around a bit, but at least she’s been quiet.”

Your brain was struggling to take all this in, especially the part where Sherry had not only stood up for you, but done so against another wife. Crap, now you really felt like an asshole for being jealous and internally snarky towards her that day in the kitchen, when she took you to the medic after you cut your finger. 

“Do you actually think she’ll let it go now?” You had a feeling that you already knew the answer, but couldn’t help asking.

Maria sighed. “I can’t say for sure, but Amber doesn’t seem like the kind of person who is okay with not being doted on. I don’t think she has any particularly strong feelings towards Negan, but she enjoys the status of being a wife. It can be a bit of a power trip, to catch the attention of a man like him, even if for shallow reasons.”

“Yea, don’t I know it,” you mumbled under your breath. 

Maria raised an eyebrow, having obviously heard. “I don’t think I’d classify his attention towards you as shallow.” 

Giving a huffed laugh and shrug, you tried to play it off. “Yea, well, is anything about Negan easy enough to classify?”

“Probably not,” she said with a shrug. “But that’s part of what makes him so intriguing, right?”

“If by intriguing you mean confounding as hell, then sure.” 

Despite your annoyed tone, you were genuinely smiling at this point. Part of you wondered if this should feel more weird than it did, talking to a woman who was Negan’s “wife”, and had most likely slept with him, about whatever it was he had going on with you. 

As if reading your thoughts, Maria’s face became more serious. “I hope this doesn’t make you feel like you can’t still talk to me, or see me as a friend.”

If you were being totally honest with yourself, the whole situation didn’t make you feel 100% comfortable, but you were pretty sure that was because of the possessive part of you that wanted him all to yourself. But was that a realistic emotion to even have, with a man like him? Could you be okay with him continuing to publicly have “wives”, even if he wasn’t sleeping with them? And what if he later decided to go back to them? It’s not as if he knew that you were aware he wasn’t sleeping with them at the moment. 

Mentally shoving those questions into the padlocked box with the other unanswered questions, you honestly replied, “I’m not totally sure how I feel about all of this yet, but I definitely still see you as a friend, so no worries on that front.” 

“I’m glad,” Maria said with a nod. “And in case I didn’t make it obvious, no part of me will be upset if Negan decides he doesn’t want to give us the same privileges anymore. Well, so long as you promise to give me a spot in the kitchen, so I’m not stuck scrubbing toilets beside Amber.” 

“Deal,” you said with a laugh, glad that the air had been cleared between the two of you, and that she wasn’t harboring ill feelings towards you for taking Negan’s attention away from her and the other wives. Part of you even wondered if she had spent much alone time with him, since she hadn’t been his wife for very long when he stopped sleeping with them, but some things were just better left unknown. Besides, it’s not like he slept cuddled against any of them all night afterwards, or let them in his bed...or his shower.

Your subconscious was feeling awfully smug at that thought, nose in the air as it strutted around with a superiority complex. Meanwhile, your brain was pointing at the padlocked box of questions in annoyance, a motion which the subconscious purposely ignored. 

You chatted with Maria for a bit longer, the conversation much lighter and more frivolous than before. It felt good to just hang out and discuss random topics, the way you had when the two of you were surviving for weeks out in the woods together. You might’ve each taken very different paths when it came to Sanctuary life, but it was a relief to know that the connection you had formed prior to coming here surpassed those differences. You also appreciated that she didn’t push for more information about you and Negan, and didn't even mention his name again. 

When she left a little while later, a glance at your watch showed that dinner prep was in about two hours. Grateful for the chunk of alone time, you finally changed into fresh clothes and propped yourself up in bed with the copy of Harry Potter. You smiled when removing the little piece of paper you had torn from your notebook as a bookmark. While this one was blank, there was a second little piece of paper that was bookmarking a place closer to the beginning of the book. This piece of paper you had marked in pencil with the letter N, and it held the spot where Negan had stopped reading yesterday morning. You had stuck it in there after he left your room, the book having been face down on your side table where he placed it when you woke up and distracted him. Hoping that he’d return to reading it, especially if you kept his place, you couldn’t help but mark his spot. 

Just the thought of his possible reactions to some of the plot twists had you smiling, at the same time as a devious thought crept into your head. If you made sure to get him hooked on the first book, he’d definitely have to find copies of the other ones in the series to share with you, right? There’s no way someone can read the first book and not need to also read the rest.

Both subconscious and brain nodded in agreement at this theory before cuddling up on either side of you, so that they could also see the opened book. Diving back into the story with a contented sigh, you immersed yourself in the magical world, not planning a return to reality and all the awaiting unanswered questions until it was time to head downstairs for dinner prep.

~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~

[thebmatt]

FFXIV Write Day 2

Aberrant - departing from an accepted standard OR diverging from the normal type.

CONTENT WARNING: asshole parents denigrating their child with sexually charged language

"Master? A letter arrived for you."

Ahldblaet Fyrilberksyn looked up from the stack of documents with an irritated expression at the servant who'd interrupted him, a hyuran male of fair skin and hair.  "Well, boy? Who is it from then? Twelve save you if this isn't worth interrupting my very important work!"

The man went even paler. "I....I don't know, master. The envelope was not signed. The post markings indicate that it originated in Eorzea, but otherwise the only marking is that of a small green axe. I don't know..."

Ahldblaet's eyes, normally perpetually narrowed due to being deep set in his face, widened in shock. "Give that here!" he shouted. "And be gone with you!"

The servant scurried over to Ahldblaet's massive desk and practically dropped the envelope on the nearest corner before fleeing with all haste, as though for his life. Ahldblaet immediately snatched it from the stack of parchment it had fallen on and inspected the markings that the servant had mentioned.

"Husband?" a voice called from the side door that led from his office further into the home.  Said door opened and a shorter Roegadyn woman stepped through, her ash-colored skin in marked contrast to the sea-blue dress she wore. Her dark grey hair framed a face that wore an annoyed expression. "What is all this bellowing about? You are disturbing my guests. It is...unseemly."

Ahldblaet turned his severe gaze upon the new entrant. He was tall and exceptionally broad, a picture of strength in his youth, but his body had taken on a measure of fat in his older age and more sedentary work. Despite this, and his balding head of hair, his steely eyed expression still cowed many of the people he dealt with on a day to day basis. "It would seem, wife, that the enormous investment we have paid into those mercenaries we dispatched to Eorzea may have finally borne fruit. This is a missive their leader sent me. After our last communication I told him, in no uncertain terms, not to contact me until he had something of note to report. Unless he has foolishly ignored my orders, this would mean he has something."

The woman was not cowed, having long becoming immune to her husband's glares. Impatiently she gestured to the envelope. "Well, open it then, you great oaf!  Maybe we will finally learn where our daughter vanished to!"

Ahldblaet tore the envelope and removed the missive inside. He began to read aloud, knowing from prior experience if he did not, his wife would snatch the paper from his hands mid-sentence. She was not a patient one.

"Masters Ahldblaet Fyrilberksyn and Lady Usynwyda Holaszirnwyn,

I am please to report that after much time and hard work on the part of the Emerald Marauders, we have located your wayward daughter. Furthermore, we have determined the reasoning as to why she evaded both us and every previous mercenary company your lordship sent to retrieve her

First, your daughter is no longer using her given name of Syhrwyda Ahldblaetwyn. Asking after that name yielded no results, aside from the merchants who recognized it only as pertaining to you. By sheer luck, we eventually stumbled across a Roegadyn language scholar who knew the translation of her first name and directed us to an adventurer known as 'Fearless Willow', one of the Warriors of Light.

I am hoping the story of the Warriors of Light does not require an explanation for your lordship, but I will remind you that these people are slayers of godlike beings who regularly enslave the minds of mortals around them, have engaged massive numbers of Garlean soldiers and magitek armor, defeated Imperial Legatuses in single combat (including the Crown Prince), and decisively ended a thousand-year war between a dragon horde and the nation of Ishgard.

From there, we set out to determine if this woman and your daughter are one and the same. It is well known that one of the Warriors of Light is in fact a Roegadyn woman, but we needed to be certain. Adventurers are often well traveled and thanks to the Aetheryte network, difficult to track. Your descriptions were also primarily of the physical sort, which did not help, as appearances are easy enough to change.

We caught a break in speaking to one of the mercenary crews you'd previously hired. Many of them had been either entirely wiped or or reduced in numbers to the degree that they'd disbanded. What few remained refused to speak with us once it became clear who we were tracking. One particular mercenary of an Ala Mhigan band (known as the Graybear Den, which if you recall abruptly returned your payment and refused the contract) however, let slip some valuable information after our agents plied him with enough drink. Once he realized who we were speaking of, he grew agitated and swore he would never help us find 'the Warrior o' Light". It would seem the Graybears believe they owed a measure of loyalty to the Warriors of LIght for their instrumental parts in liberating their homeland.

It was, however, enough. Once we determined that your daughter and this Warrior of Light were in fact one and the same, we began looking for ways to isolate her and take her prisoner. Unfortunately this has proven extremely difficult. As they are involved in affairs that affect the entirety of the star, the Warriors of Light are often on the move, moreso than normal adventurers. Furthermore, as I have mentioned, they are peerless warriors, often in each other's company or those of their fellow Scions of the Seventh Dawn. If you don't know the order, suffice to say they are Warriors and Scholars both who labor on behalf of all peoples to defend the world against tyranny and false gods. They are exceptionally successful in this regard. The Scions often meet and collaborate with the leaders of various powers on this continent, who are often accompanied by their own soldiers or bodyguards.

We have remained patient however, and managed to catch a glimpse of her. As I mentioned was likely, she has extensively changed her appearance. Her hair is now of a longer cut and nearly all black, with only highlights of the teal you had mentioned remaining. She has also taken to wearing dark makeup.

We have also determined that unlike her fellow Warriors of Light, she does not dwell in the Scion's headquarters. Instead, she has taken to living in the Hingashi port city of Kugane, where she has a modest home in the district of the city reserved for foreigners.

Finally, and you may wish to brace her ladyship for this part, she does not live there alone. Our spies have reported that her home is occupied by two other women, and their observations of them interacting within the city indicates that the three of them are lovers

We believe that this is our best shot at capturing her, but the price for her return to you has just doubled.

You are doubtless shaking with rage, but you hired us to retrieve a woman that you led us to believe would provide minimal resistance. Even isolated from the other Scions in Kugane, we believe we will face extreme resistance in this job. For starters, your daughter has mastered several forms of combat, including the ways of the Hingashi samurai, the axe-masters of Abalathia's Spine, and the art of thaumaturgy. She is also known to wield the Sharlayan art of Astrology, and has mastered a form of dance from Radz-at-Han that wields circular blades with deadly precision.

Furthermore, Fearless Willow is a known and loved name within the borders of Kugane, despite being a foreigner in a city that remains neutral to all concerns beyond their borders. She was instrumental in aiding their geomancers in repelling an attack from a fox-like beast known as 'Kinko' and she also trained alongside the Sekiseigumi (the samurai order that enforces the laws of the city, brutally so) and helped them put down a rebellion from within their own ranks. One of her lovers is a high ranking member of the Sekiseigumi. The other is a member of her dance troupe who is on an extended tour in the city. She is every bit as deadly in the art as Fearless is.

The point is that, even isolated from the other Scions, many people will rush to her aid. We expect heavy resistance and significant losses. The original reward will not suffice to cover this.

We will not move forward with this operation until we have your confirmation of acceptance of the new price. And we suggest you hurry, as events brewing suggest your daughter will soon be called back to the fight, at which point it is impossible to tell when we will have another opportunity

Cmdr Guji Pokiji Chief Executive, Emerald Marauders  

Ahldblaet set the letter on his desk, shaking with rage as he looked to his wife."How DARE that miniscule INSECT think to extort us?? A Warrior of Light, indeed. As if our useless fool of a daughter has the brains to take on even one sort of combat discipline, much less five! How gullible does he THINK us to be?"

Usynwyda nodded, a disgusted sneer on her face. "The NERVE of her, to merely toss aside the name we chose for her, only to refer to herself in the....ugh...common tongue! Still, the name cannot be a coincidence. Whatever other lies that little gnat undoubtedly told, this is the best lead we have had on Syhrwyda since she ran away."

"It is. And if they are not all lies, then it is all the more imperative we retrieve her before word of any of this gets out among our enemies. The very idea that she would toss aside the husband we painstakingly chose for her after careful selection and delicate negotiation in favor of laying with another woman, much less two! I worried she would do stupid things, but this level of degeneracy, of abberance? It is unconscionable!"

Usynwyda shuddered. "We cannot let this get out. I can never face any of the ladies if they should learn my daughter has become no better than some...common whore. We must marry her off to the Greinmyrgan boy with all haste before she does any further damage to us, to the company."

Ahldblaet scribbled furiously. "I am already writing orders to have our ship made ready and for our elite guards to prepare for a journey. We will find her and we end this nonsense."

Far away, in Kugane, the Warrior of Light known as Fearless Willow shuddered as she prepared to fall asleep. She had no ping from the Echo, no signal from her finely honed danger sense to explain it, but she definitely felt as if trouble was heading her way, and no idea what it might be.

[evilsilence]

The Emergency! Fandom Intro Meme

Rules: Not much to say here! Copy-paste this into a new post (and feel free to link back to this one if you’d like) and answer the questions as you see fit if you’d like to tell the rest of the fandom a bit more about yourself. This meme is generally tag-free and open to everyone who wants to do it (but feel free to informally tag people you’d like to know more about). You can tag your reply as “#E! intro meme” if you’d like.

How’d you find this show and the fandom? How long have you been here? Yeah, so funny story, I’d known about the show as far back as 2014 or 2015. My parents used to watch it a lot when it was on MeTV but I figured it was just another cheesy old show, so I didn’t pay any attention to it. By late 2016 I decided to finally pay attention. At first I sorta just laughed at the aforementioned 70′s TV cheesiness, but after awhile I realized it wasn’t all that bad and I wanted to dig in deeper. Unfortunately, Netflix was removing E in January of 2017 which only left me around a month to watch whatever I could binge during that time, so I found an E! board and asked for episode recs. That was my first true fandom experience, and honestly, at the time I thought it was amazing that board still existed and was semi active. I figured that beyond that board there was probably no active fandom. During my month of binging those recs, I also decided to see if there happened to be any old fanfiction for the show left, of course not really expecting anything, and was shocked to see FFN wasn’t dead at all. This led to reading a ton of E fanfics before I even had a solid grasp on who the characters even were, which idk, that probably wasn’t the best idea but it WAS fun so whatever. So technically I suppose I was “in” the fandom in late 2016, but I didn’t really actively search out the fandom, beyond that board, until late 2017 (which led to a not so great experience on a certain bird app).

What made you stick around? The fanfiction, mainly. I noticed right away how this fandom loves whump, especially Johnny whump, and that really interested me (I’ve always had a thing for whump). Otherwise, besides a few bad apples, there are a lot of really great people in this fandom and I want to be part of that.

Who’s your favorite character? 1000% Johnny. He’s the sole reason I started paying attention to the show to begin with because holy shit how is he so cute???

Are you a shipping kind of person? If yes, what are your favorite ships? I LOVE shipping. Definitely Johnny x Roy and Brackett x Dixie, but I also ship Dixie x the administrator from “Foreign Trade”.

Favorite moment/scene/quote? Yes, you can pick more than one. I’d have to say my all time favorite scene / quote is in the pilot movie when Johnny tells Brackett “To hell with the orders” and shuts off the biophone. I love sassy Johnny. I also really love the scene at the end of “Rip-Off” where Johnny still thinks he hears a rattling noise coming from the squad and Roy says “Maybe it’s the loose seeds in your gourd”. Those two have a lot of great comedic moments, but that one sticks out to me for some reason.

Do you have a favorite episode? Feel free to pick one per season if you can’t decide. My absolute favorite episodes are the major Johnny whump ones. But I also love “Frequency”, because it shows Johnny all emotionally hurt and vulnerable and questioning his own mortality and ugh so good. I also like the episode “The Exam” because of the scene where Johnny admits that he doesn’t wanna have to go back to the engine if he fails the paramedic re-certification exam. I love those small moments of vulnerability from Johnny because it’s a side of him that we don’t see much. “Isolation” is also a great episode imo, just because the scenery change is nice. And “Details”, because it’s just typical Johnny to try to rush into something without all the information.

Most underrated character, either among the fandom or one the writers never utilized to their full potential? Morton, Stoker, and Marco.

One thing you’d have liked to see more (or less) of in the show? As others have said, it would’ve been nice to have seen more of Student Nurse Sharon and Nurse Carol. It also would’ve been nice to have seen more of Morton as he grew as a doctor.

Do you have a fanwork recommendation for us? Fic, art, video, whatever? @johnnys-green-pen, @hitchcock-winter, @madilayn, and @thebeatlesqueenie1212 all write greats fics. @andtheywerelegends makes good vids. Otherwise, I’ve been enjoying “Hunted” by mta797 and “Off Road” by Closet Scrawler on FFN recently.

Any fanworks you’d like to see? I know it’s definitely going to be an unpopular opinion, but I’d like to see more fics that explore darker themes. Not every story needs a happy ending or a miraculous recovery. Sometimes bad things happen, things don’t go as expected and there’s no miracle at the end of the day. I want to read more about that.

Any favorite headcanons you’d like to tell us about? Johnny being neurodivergent is probably my favorite. And definitely that Johnny and Roy have not so secret feelings for each other. I also heard a headcanon ages ago that Johnny is probaaably a virgin and I can totally see that, given the way he constantly strikes out.

Free space! Anything else you’d like to mention? I owe this show the revival of my interest in writing. Prior to 2017, when I started my first E fic, I hadn’t seriously written anything since 2010. Writing is so incredibly therapeutic for me and always has been, even when I was a kid writing dumb stories with my friends that made absolutely no sense. Back then, writing was such a big part of who I was. And to find that missing piece of myself has been everything.

[pinkhairedlily]

Chapter 5 - Student Council President Sakura

SCPS AO3 | PREVIOUS CHAPTER

When Naruto let go of that pitch, Sakura knew their school had won. She hugged Hinata who was also overjoyed, and she turned to her side to give Sasuke a high five then she realized he was still not back.

As she moved along the bleachers, she rallied her schoolmates to give a resounding yell routine. Disappearing within the noise, she moved along the halls below the benches, and there she found the group.

When the fist made contact with her face, she almost blacked out. The pain came rushing in after a few seconds of numbness, her sight a complete blur, a slight disorientation, and her hearing muffled. The scuffle played out before her as her eyes refocused, Sasuke kicking and punching the goons on the stomach, but it seemed she got it wrong when Kakashi’s eyes drifted to her as a pair of glaring daggers.

His one foot was on the wrist of the guy who punched her. When the blood finally dripped from her broken nostrils, Kakashi broke the guy’s hand, thankfully echoed by the screams from the bleachers. “You’ll get expulsion and multiple restraining orders just for the hell of it.”

While Kakashi called the security, Sasuke went to Sakura’s side with a mix of an irritated but worried look on his face. Ah, he was wondering why.

“I’m okay,” she tried to say despite receiving no question, but the words came out wrong. Oh my gods, are my teeth broken? How embarrassing?

As if summoned by her thoughts, he stood before them right after the guards took away the passed-out bullies. “Let’s get you two to the clinic.”

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

“I can’t call Naruto. I left my bag with Hinata,” she tried to say again but the words were coming out jumbled like I con kor Nar-u-o…I re ma ba wi Hina-a…

Kakashi was trying not to laugh as she communicated with Sasuke who was on the other bed, being checked by a doctor with curtains drawn. The school clinic recommended them to go directly to the hospital.

“He would have to wait for our congratulations,” Sasuke replied.

“I see you wincing in pain, young man. That’s a broken rib right there,” the doctor noted from the other side. When the curtains were swept to the side, Sakura saw her raven-haired classmate clutching at his side. When his eyes opened to find hers, he glanced away and let go of his pained expression.

“Ms. Haruno, I will be referring you to our plastics. Would be a waste if your student council president loses her pretty face.” The doctor tapped Kakashi’s shoulder as she walked out of their ward.

“Thanks, Nohara,” he called out after her.

Sakura deduced he was friends with the doctor, but she could ask him that some other time. She looked a bit older than the Math teacher so they might not be together. Regardless, shouldn’t she be more engrossed of having a crooked nose in front of Kakashi than his personal love life? When he turned her attention to her finally, she instinctively covered her face with her hands.

“Sakura, you should tilt your head upwards, just a little bit. You had a nosebleed earlier, didn’t you?” She did what he said, but gods, this was so embarrassing. She tried to look at him through her fingers, and his beauty mark moved as he chuckled. Ugh, why is he so perfect?

His phone suddenly pinged, and he took a moment to read the message. “Hmm. I need to leave and go explain things to the board. Nohara might advise bed rest and school leave for at most three weeks so get well soon, all right?” Then, he turned to Sasuke. “You don’t have to worry about it.”

Sakura wondered if she should ask a favor from Kakashi. Asking him to stay was a tad too much, and asking him to contact the council would be too irresponsible. Maybe she could sneak out after his exit and find a way to contact the council. She should also call Naruto – second on the task list. He would be devastated without their congratulations.

A hand on her head stopped her thoughts. “Stop thinking at hundred miles per second, and rest. I will take care of the council and inform Uzumaki of your situation. I assume you three are friends?”

“No.” “Yes.” Sasuke and Sakura answered respectively.

Kakashi smiled, finding amusement in their dynamics. “See you soon.”

“Shi yo,” she muttered through her broken nose, unaware of her fingers already fidgeting the rubber band on her wrist.

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

She was back in the hospital the following week. While Sasuke was advised to be confined, she was sent for home care. The mandated rest did not even last a day because she needed to show up to her shifts in the café and showed up she did in some elaborate mask to cover her bandaged nose and a sketchpad for conversations. To appease the constant nag and flood of messages from her councilmates, she stopped showing up in school for three days and turned the tables on them by doing all the nagging and demanding daily updates.

On the fourth day, she was up and running through the school halls to reach the board inquisition in time. She gladly accepted an annoyed litany of precautions and reminders from Kakashi.

“I never thought you could be this stubborn, Sakura.” He was visibly exasperated. “I can’t tail you every time and remind you that you’re injured.”

But you could. “I’m sorry, Sensei. I promise to not push myself so hard for the next days.” Sakura gave him a peace sign which he jokingly waved away.

“Pull your energy back, like 60 percent of it.” He patted her head softly, like an adult would to an unreasonable kid, and never have she felt more insulted. “If only I could take care of you.”

Like a babysitter would? She immediately put distance between them, feeling angry for no reason, and she stormed off, leaving him clueless in the middle of the hallway about her sudden rigid behavior.

Now she was back in the hospital after a week of mild recuperation. When she went to check on Sasuke, she found him asleep, probably from the sedatives. It amused her that even in slumbers, his brows would furrow, yet a part of her worried that there must be something looping him in nightmares. She left her presence with a basket of fruits and a medium-sized carton of tomato juice which Naruto mentioned was his favorite. Several juice boxes of the same flavor were stacked on the other side of his bed and a plastic bag filled with instant ramen bowls. She would ask the maintenance staff later to take out the trash.

When she finally reached the door of Dr. Aki Nohara, her assistant gestured for her to wait for a while outside. She figured she can loiter in Sasuke’s room and have one of the nurses get her until she heard Kakashi’s voice inside the room.

“I know you literally accelerated throughout school, but you need to act more like your age.” Her doctor scolded her teacher like an old friend. She was aware of her eavesdropping, but she hoped to learn more of his life. “I’m saying you should visit Rin.”

“Does she miss me?” It was and wasn’t his voice. She didn’t hear his usual nonchalance when he blurted out those words. Ah, a weird ache was forming in her chest.

“Do you even need to ask that from me when the answer is already so obvious?”

“Hmm. I’m just not ready….yet.”

“Well get on with it and put a ring on her finger or others will!”

Ah, her sensei was apparently planning to get married? So he had someone after all, someone named Rin. Sakura felt the room crowd her in, almost suffocating her, and she accidentally bumped into a passing staff and a tray cart of medical supplies.

Her small disturbance brought the occupants outside the room. “Ah, Ms. Haruno, you may come in now. You look pale, dear.”

Kakashi waved at her, his teacher persona already up in arms, then he turned to Dr. Aki. “Your medical advice for my heart is noted, but not now, maybe in the far, far, far future.”

Dr. Aki tsked at him. “Off you go Hatake. I have a patient waiting. Oh thank heavens, the color is returning to your face.”

He’s not marrying her……yet. Would it be silly to think I have a chance?

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

A whole two weeks have gone in secluded rooms – a week alone in a hospital room because of Itachi’s connections and another week alone cooped up in his apartment. He got radio silence from his brother, and he almost wished he gave him an earful of insults instead – many of which should have called out his cowardice, especially when the clash had an avoidable casualty. He looked so stupid next to cool Kakashi, Kakashi who was only five years older than them, Kakashi who smoked and read with baseball playing on the background, Kakashi who took on all four people at once with no scratch on his body, Kakashi with his silver hair being friends with doctors and bigshots, Kakashi with his beauty mark laughing at Sakura.

If there was any further downside to this, that was also the angry flood of texts he got from Naruto the night of the game, and then nothing. He was too drugged with sedatives he didn’t have the right mind to reply and process them. He was too drugged to wake up with a clear mind even. He didn’t bother to text or call back. Whatever, whatever, whatever. He took a look again at his phone, checked the time, found no new messages, and put it back on his side table.

His past self would have enjoyed this momentary social isolation, but he couldn’t help the nagging feeling of missing company however, he can’t bring himself to admit this aloud.

The next time he opened his eyes, he scrambled out of bed in panic and cold sweat. Someone was incessantly ringing his doorbell. When his eyes tried to find the clock, he found that it was already eight in the evening. He was sure he wasn’t expecting any guests tonight.

He trudged on to his door and mustered some strength to look through the peephole. Blue irises looked back at him, moved away a few steps, and struck a pose with a pink-haired girl with bandages still on her nose. The door never opened so quickly during the length of his stay.

“Are you stalkers or something?” were the first words he spat.

“Dr. Aki Nohara said it’s okay to visit you now!” Naruto whined. “And Sakura brought food!”

Sakura presented several paper bags. “It was Naruto’s idea actually. He nagged me for a week.”

“Yeah and I couldn’t understand her in the first few days,” the blonde said, rather straightforwardly.

Sasuke held back the urge to slap his hand on his forehead, but he moved to the side as he allowed them to venture inside his apartment. On second thought, did he put his underwear on the laundry basket?

“We figured you didn’t have dinner yet,” Sakura told him as she laid out the food containers on the dining table. “Mind if we use your utensils?”

“I forgot to say please make yourself at home,” Sasuke snapped sarcastically.

“Eeew, you’re still in your pajamas.” Naruto made a face at him while he opened his fridge and scoured for water and fruit juices. “That makes the two of us who didn’t shower!”

“You idiot. I showered this morning.” Nevertheless, Sasuke sat on the seat beside Sakura, allowing her to give him a bowl of ramen and some serving of okonomiyaki. A large platter of takoyaki was placed in the center of the table, first to be consumed by impatient hands and hungry mouths. Sakura had one hell of an appetite and fast metabolism to boot.

“Anyway, congratulations idiot,” he said while munching on the last piece of takoyaki. “Aren’t you supposed to travel to Fukuoka for the semis?”

“Yeah, next week! It doesn’t start until next month, but Captain Haru said we need to train,” Naruto replied as he proceeded to open a bowl of instant ramen. “The board also granted us exemption from exams. My brains are saved.”

“Your training camp really coincided with the school field trip,” Sakura noted. “Maybe we could visit you in between?”

“That would be the best!” Naruto grinned sheepishly, but Sasuke swore there was a tinge of red in his cheeks.

Finally rid of all food and dishes, the three lounged around in his living room, browsing titles in Netflix – Sakura wanted gore, crime, and horror while Naruto wanted adventure and fantasy films.

“What genre do you want, Sasuke?” Sakura asked. She was in possession of the remote and was seated on the other end of the couch. Naruto was on the floor with an open packet of chips and soda.

“And if I said romance?” he chided, weirdly enough to catch them offguard, but Sakura landed on the Twilight series and pressed play without second thoughts. “I was joking.”

“And it’s now starting,” she said back.

“How long are you gonna stay here?” He lost track of time – not the first instance this happened but the first occurrence without the burden of something heavy. “It’s past midnight.”

“I thought I was slow but you’re actually slower,” Naruto teased. “We’re staying over, grumpy.”

“I would love for a vampire to bite me,” Sakura quipped out of context.

Sasuke figured he didn’t have the energy to refute their uninvited sleepover at his unit. By the time New Moon played on screen, Naruto was sleeping on the floor with his mouth hanging wide open, and Sakura was lying fully on the couch, her feet stretched out on his lap. He slid out of this awkward entanglement and strode quietly to his drawers where he took out spare blankets to cover them with. On his bedside table, his phone lit up with a message notification.

Happy birthday, Sasuke. – Itachi

AO3 LINK | NEXT CHAPTER | CHAPTER 6

[petri808]

Bakudeku canon divergent, vampire quirk AU

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24

When Bakugou finally woke up in the Ena City Hospital, his head was splitting worse than a punch from Kirishima in full quirk, and ears rang with the force of all 108 New Year’s bell tolls. If he’d had no memory of the night before, Bakugou swore he’d just survived the worst hangover in history. Even his eyes hurt from the bright, piercing fluorescent lights and they weren’t even open! He turned his head to the side, noticing how much effort it took just to shift in such a small manner. It was as if his body was drained of... “Ugh, that bastard,” he groaned. ‘Fucker bit me.’ And as if to add insult to injury, a pin-prick pain in his neck revealed itself in that revelation.

His arm flopped up, hand straining with jerky strokes, reaching to touch the fresh bite wound located at the junction of his neck and shoulder. He flinched at the tender, bruising pain that sent a shock down his spine. Son-of— This just in! Pro Hero Dynamite cast in one of those cliché vampire movies that went straight to video. Definitely not the career start he’d envisioned.

“Oh, good you’re finally awake Mr. Bakugou.”

“Who the fuck are you?” he spat at the male voice. “And can someone turn the fucking lights off?!”

“I am Doctor Ishihira, and my apologies,” the doctor flicked off the overhead light. “Is that better?”

“Yeah,” he grumped.

“Mr. Bakugou, you were found yesterday morning and brought in suffering from hypovolemic shock due to severe blood loss and dehydration. We’ve treated you with 3 liters of IV fluids and blood plasma to bring your numbers back up, however you’ll still be groggy until your body replenishes the nutrients you were stripped of.”

Over a day had passed! At hearing he’d been out cold for so long, Bakugou immediately clenched his fists, swearing up and down about being released until they threatened to sedate him for longer. Longer?! He begrudgingly relented and settled down, but damn it! That meant Midoriya had another head start on him again! And now that the man knew he was on his trail, finding him would be a lot more difficult!

“What the hell is hypo-whatever shock?” Bakugou questioned.

“When you were found, you were in and out of consciousness and rambling incoherently, all signs of severe blood loss. The fatigue you’re still feeling is also due to the effects of it. Luckily the amount of loss wasn’t enough to start shutting down your organs.”

The doctor continued explaining a few more details regardless of the tantrum like a robot. Minor injuries he’d been treated for. The obvious puncture wounds in his neck, questioning Bakugou about any description he could provide of his attacker. He wasn’t about to tell this doctor or any authority figure who the true culprit was, so he feigned a temporary retrograde amnesia. Based on a raised brow, peering over his glass’s expression, the doctor didn’t look very convinced. Oh well, Bakugou really didn’t care about the man’s opinion.

“Mr. Bakugou, we also called you parents…”

“You what?!” Bakugou tried to jump off the bed, but his body absolutely refused to respond and ended up flopping like a dying fish. Ugh! He really was worse off than he’d thought.

“I’m sorry, but you are a minor, so we were obligated to do so. However, they did give us permission to treat and release you on your own recognizance once we felt you were better.”

Well, that was good news. ‘Sounds like mom actually listened to my letter.’ Or the authorities surely would have shown up by now. “Ugh! So, how much longer am I stuck here?”

“If you continue to recover well, tomorrow morning.”

Fuck! Now a three-day head start! Just great, he groaned. Midoriya could get far away with that kind of a jump start. “Fine, whatever! Now go the fuck away.”

The doctor left the room after explaining how nurses will be monitoring his progress, but to also let them know if anything started to feel worse. They needed to know if he developed any lasting effects from organ damage. Once he was alone again, Bakugou rolled gingerly onto his side as his mind processed the new information. Whatever Midoriya had been hit with must be the cause of this weird blood thirst that resembled a goddamn vampire plot line. Perhaps the significance of the blood coloring in his eyes was a sign of that thirst taking hold? That’ll be a handy tell, too bad it seemed to appear within seconds of the next step.

But if Midoriya had just fed on a victim, and history showed at times, a span of days before the next incident, what had caused his friend to attack him so fast? Was this thirst like a hunger? And what happens when you exercise or exert yourself? You use up energy. ‘Duh, Katsuki.’ Fighting and expending all that energy must have triggered the attack. ‘Wow, it burns fast.’ That meant Midoriya probably struggled to control this thirst, and that’s why he was pleading for him to leave him alone. But sorry, he couldn’t do that. ‘Fucker shouldn’t have run!’ One way or another he is getting his friend back home where he belonged. In fact, this only made his drive to find Midoriya stronger because he felt like he was partially to blame for the predicament his friend was in. The guy had to be scared, freaked out, and lonely. Bakugou’s heart clenched at the thought. He knew his friend was a social person by nature who loved being around friends and family. To be stuck out here all by himself and too frightened because of whatever this new quirk was had to be horrible… and utterly not fair. Of course, he did have a tendency to isolate himself when he feared…

Bakugou groaned. “Kami, not again with this shit!” When was Midoriya gonna learn to stop running away!

As his eyes relented to the fatigue and his mind slipped back into unconsciousness, Bakugou could only pray he’ll get a lead as soon as he got out of this hospital. This strange new quirk, if that’s really what it was, posed a serious danger not only to Midoriya, but the public. The reputation of pro hero’s had taken a major hit already because of AFO and the league, so if the public found out about a blood drinking hero attacking people… ‘I gotta get you out of here…’

After his encounter with Bakugou, Midoriya had rushed out of town as quickly as possible. Tears poured down his cheeks as he took off into the sky from having given in to the lust of this uncontrollable quirk. But he couldn’t stop it even if he’d wanted to. He’d learned the hard way right at the beginning that once it took hold of his mind, the only thing he could do was give-in or succumb to an even worse ravenous state that literally hurt. The pain of holding out on the hunger made him feel like a starved predatory animal that tore at his insides until he relented. In this state, the blood of any creature that came too close became a meal. But it was never enough. Animal blood didn’t satiate him in the same way that human blood did. Plus, he worried that if he let it get completely out of control, he might just end up killing someone. So far, he’d been lucky to leave them all unconscious but alive.

It was obvious that the light AFO had hit him with contained this strange quirk. How ironic, to take down a villain, only to be turned into one. That’s how Midoriya felt. How else could he feel? A hero wouldn’t hurt other people, so by taking the blood of others for sustenance, that made him a villain. Therefore, he couldn’t be a hero anymore. It must have been AFO’s plan all along once he’d realized he was losing. The villains end goal was to ruin hero society and this was definitely one way to do it. Take out his primary rival. The man poised to carry on a torch of safety and security, and snuff out any who chose to do harm… The whole situation with Bakugou really turned this into a nightmare out of body experience. To see his friend’s eyes suddenly show fear, then fade away the more he drank… his mouth clamped to the man’s neck… it was a horrible imagine that was sure to haunt him. He could still smell the burnt cinnamon from such a close encounter. If only he had clothes to change into or even a pond to bathe in, because that lingering scent was gonna drive him mad!

Midoriya curled up and clenched his eyes shut tight in an abandoned and overgrown castle he’d found outside of Ena. It didn’t look like it’s been maintained for a very long time, so the likelihood of a human showing up seemed low. He knew he should have travelled farther away, but he was too tired, too upset and just wanted to quit. All the years of growing up quirkless, to gain OFA and become the very thing he’d dreamt of, only for those dreams to be dashed again. It was as if life just didn’t want him to be a real hero. Maybe he should just put himself out of his misery, and yet— he couldn’t do it. To die out here alone where no one knew where he was or what had become of him, that wasn’t fair to his family and friends…

They must be so worried about him right now. His poor mother didn’t deserve any of this. Would his friends look down on him now? And All Might, his idol, who’d taken him under his wing, was he disappointed? And that just left Bakugou. He’d said the truth in answering the man’s question. No, Midoriya never would have expected him to come looking. Katsuki Bakugou giving a damn about him? Yeah, right. Bakugou wasn’t doing this because he cared. There was always a selfish reason behind his madness. Fear. Anger. Jealousy. Shouldn’t big bad Dynamight be thrilled that his biggest rival was gone?

Okay that was a big, fat white lie he’d been telling himself for the last two years. He knew Bakugou had moved past those pettier behaviors, but it was simply easier to believe and keep their relationship as rivals than to hope his childhood friend would ever see him as something else. And yet… ‘Kacchan was genuinely surprised by my answer. Did he really come looking for me because he cared that much?’ Yet in what way? Why was the man trying so hard? Did he… ‘miss me?’

Midoriya shook his head violently of those thoughts. No, no, he didn’t want to believe that because it would make this situation even more unbearable than it already was! He’d already given up everything he’d ever loved. His hopes and dreams, a future and losing an affection he’d craved for years would just simply be too much.

[evakuality]

Mia, episode four

1.  Hanna staring deep into Mia’s face as she talks = not loosening my conviction they should be together.  But either way, I like this little scene.  One thing I think Druck does well is translating the ideas of all the russ-stuff from the og into its own thing that makes sense in its own context.  These suggestions really are all terrible, though.  I’m not at all surprised that Jonas and Matteo are taking the mickey out of it (side note - I missssss themmmmmm).  I know I’m seriously anti Alex and so I’m not feeling even remotely charitable, but I really dislike the way he’s walking in all ‘I have a much better idea than you guys’ and acting as if he’s better than them.  Plus, then they ended up using it and... ugh.  I just... I really hate William and poor Alex is bearing the brunt of that.  It’s probably not his fault; I just brought a whole lot of baggage into this viewing.

2.  I do love that Leonie is still ‘in charge’ in this way.  It’s a nice continuity from s1.  And she’s not perfect in any way; a lot of her little mannerisms and the way she acts and speaks from s1 are still here, but she’s mellowed a bit.  It’s not as directed and petty; she just likes being in charge and running stuff.

3.  Wow a lot is going on in this first clip.  Amira is getting her voice heard like a boss here!  (sidenote #2: she is stunning in this outfit with this makeup etc).  It’s obvious that she’s pretty used to Mia and her very set opinions (a bit like Leonie but she does it in a different way) and knows the only way to get what she/they need is to basically steamroll over every attempt Mia makes at speaking.  I like the point that Mia’s principles aren’t as important as the people who wouldn’t be able to pay the larger price.  Like, I get it - she’d rather not have anything to do with Alex (me either tbh) but Amira is also right.  Excluding him on principle isn’t fair to the bulk of the students.  However, ‘he shows up with all his money and his damn poster and now he’s a nice guy?’ - I mean, exactly.  Still.  There are other considerations and it shouldn’t be black and white.

4.  Oh, this walkway/ramp thing again.  My beloved setting returns!  Honestly, I really really love this school building.  It’s got so many little corners and changes and different spaces and this space in particular is used to really good effect.  Like rn, Alex has the high ground and while Mia is trying to stand up to him, it’s ineffectual because they’re having to use high angles on her vs low on him.  He still has the power.  And even when they come together, and there’s a seeming meeting of equals, he’s still got the high ground, even if just barely.  And as he walks away with his insufferable smirk, he regains that high ground even more (do I like this plot at all?  No, but I do like the film techniques used to explore it). I just really really love the way the camera works in these spaces.  Unlike a ‘normal’ school, this one has so much depth and variety even when they reuse the same spaces.  None of the times this thing is used is the effect exactly the same even when it seems similar.  Hmmmm, now part of me wants to look at every time it’s used and see how it’s done.  Somebody stop me.

5.  Yikes - I’m only 6 minutes in and I already wrote an essay.  Okay, let’s try to be more brief as we continue.  Oh.  Mia alone and in a nice space with warm tones around her (unlike the other two scenes this episode).  I do like these moments when we hang out with our mains and I’m glad we’re starting to get that more with Mia.  Very interesting that she chooses to fold and iron her clothes as a reaction to the ‘mega geil’ comments about Alex.  Clearly she’s starting to feel out of control about the whole business with Alex and the things he’s saying to her, and this is one way of her reasserting her control.  She likes having things under control and we see it coming out in these odd ways now that she’s found something that is out of her control.  She clearly gets some peace out of it, but it’s so rigid that you can tell it must be about to crack soon.  Nice touch with Hans bringing the comic relief.  I love him so much!!

6.  Lol, Matteo looks super disgusted by this chirpy conversation about Hans’ affliction.  I like that his characterisation is still traceable.  He’s not AS low and isolated as he seems in his season (the benefit of perspective I guess), but he’s still slumped and isn’t as engaged in the things around him - here and even with Jonas earlier.  It’s just nice to see because I know his season came pretty close after Mia’s so it’s good that it doesn’t seem to come out of nowhere.  Continuity - Druck is good at it.  Also how uncomfortable he is when the discussion turns to what gay penises look like - clearly he already has some ideas about how himself and equally clearly he doesn’t want to talk about ‘gay’ anything when it might be connected to him.  Little does he know, his phone already gave them ideas.  But I do like him already being the biggest Hanna/Jonas shipper - like, he’s so determined to make up for his interference that he’s fully trying to interfere again, and it’s a nice segue into ‘why does anyone spend a whole evening stalking someone’ - yeah, we see you Mia.  You’re more intrigued by Alex than you care to admit.  I enjoy these little seemingly unimportant clips of them just hanging out that actually advance the plot or characterisation.

7.  Hanna: Mia, please come to this place to save me from being alone with Jonas.  Mia: I’m on my way (despite not wanting to go at all) - are we seriously telling me she’s not at least a little bit in love with Hanna?  Seriously.  The need to help Hanna out is strong in this one.  But also... more mirror reflections, but this time she’s more centered (not entirely but more so) and her whole face is in shot.  Things are ‘coming together’ so to speak.  And ion hindsight, I can’t even seem to spot Jonas?  Is he even there?  Was Hanna trying to get Mia there through stealth????

8.  Yikes, this thing they’re doing where they say stuff about each other is a bit brutal.  Amira’s ones are mostly pretty awful, and targeted at her religion.  Very interesting that for the others, they seemed more focused on who they are rather than ‘what’ they are, but it’s not the same for her?  Like, I know we explore this a bit in her season but there’s been so much through the whole 2 seasons so far that I feel even more like we lost the opportunity to truly explore that more.  RIP the s4 she deserved!  

9.  I don’t like Alex still (he’s still too arrogant and irritating for me) but I do like the quiet slow way Mia is warming up to him.  She doesn’t want to, but you can see her re-evaluating him and starting to recalibrate her thoughts.  Like it’s not rushing and he is at least a little more interesting than William and has more charisma so I can see why she would become intrigued once she shifted her perspective.  Unlike William, who remained gross through the entire thing.

10.  So Mia’s desperate need to be in control and have everything perfect even extends to Alex’s place and his stuff?  Considering she still thinks she doesn’t like him, she’s taking a lot of trouble with his space.  Suuuuuper awkward alone times here though I do like this shot of Mia exploring Alex’s place and the camera just sort of following along with that and taking in what she sees.   Being this tight on her really plays up how ‘tight’ her PoV is and how she’s not seeing outside the bounds of what she wants to see.

11.  This is a very very long clip, but there’s something charming about it too.  Alex is... hmmmm, not exactly a good guy as yet (he’s still doing some quite douchey things), but he’s starting to open up and be real while still trying to protect some stuff that’s and that’s a lot more believable than William was.  I know he was supposed to be like that, too, in a lot of ways, but I never found him convincing.  Not the way Alex is.  I don’t like him (this is genuinely not a type of guy that appeals to me at all) but I can see why he might win Mia over.  Which I never did understand with Noora.  We shall see - there are things from later in Noora’s season that fill me with incandescent rage, and if those happen then I can’t warm to Alex properly at all.  But for now, I can see why Mia might be won over.  Even if I can’t forgive him for the way he treats Kiki and acts like he’s the only one with all the right answers.

Lots of long clips in this one with a whole heap going on.  It would have been something to go through this live, I’m sure.  I found lots of little moments in this one to like, and I like how Druck has managed the characters and the interactions to make it feel natural.  Considering that I really cannot stand the og of this and that one was very long, I think they’re doing a fairly good job of keeping this one engaging and a decent pace even if I still dislike one of the characters.

[whelvenwings]

I Thought You Knew

Dean’s doing great with social distancing - or not bad, anyway - and then Charlie just has to try to put him in contact again with his old crush, Castiel. But they’re going to be able to keep things strictly professional and ignore their history - right?

~5k. Content information: this fic is set right now and mentions some small difficulties with self-isolation, but contains no mention of the pandemic itself.

Read here on AO3 if you prefer!

—————————————

It was all going just fine until Castiel got involved.

Well, for a given value of ‘fine’, anyway. If Dean was honest, social distancing wasn’t proving to be a picnic. At first he’d been sure he’d have no trouble – thought he’d have time to relisten to all his favourite albums, learn to cook brisket. First figure out what exactly brisket even was, actually, and then learn to cook it. With the world in such a state, and with so many things to worry about, Dean had thought that he’d at least be able to deal with being isolated.

Dean could really, really not deal at all with being isolated.

He was climbing up the walls by day three. There was something about only having himself for company, only his own face in the mirror to see and only himself to talk to, that seemed to flick some kind of switch in his brain. When he took his one piece of exercise a day, he made it a walk instead of a run so that he could go slowly and smile at people as he went. Him. Dean. Smiling at people on the street. Exchanging small talk about the weather with them.

It was only the fact that a whole lot of other people seemed to be doing it too that gave him any reassurance he wasn’t going completely soft.

By day five, he’d messaged Charlie so many times that she’d decided he needed some kind of project.

And that was how Castiel came into it.

Because Dean and Charlie had been due to move in together, had even put a deposit down on a place. It was there, ready for them. They just had to wait until isolation wasn’t so necessary to be able to move in. And so Charlie’s project for Dean was to figure out the interior decoration of their new place.

“I’ll suck at it,” he told her over the phone.

“Right,” Charlie said disbelievingly. “You think I haven’t noticed your tasteful curtains? The counterpane on your bed?”

“The hell is a counter-pain?”

“It’s the thing on your bed,” Charlie said, with more patience than Dean would’ve expected, which made him narrow his eyes. There was some part of this that he wasn’t going to like, and she hadn’t told him yet, and she was being nice so that he would be nice.

“Right. Well, anyway, yeah,” he said, deciding to agree now while the part he wouldn’t like still hadn’t come up, so the agreement to that part would be a separate issue. After all these years of knowing each other, Dean had his tactics. “Okay. Fine. I’ll do it. Consider our place’s design sorted.”

“Cool,” Charlie said quickly. “Cool, cool, cool. Um, so I’ll just let Castiel know, then, and you guys can –”

Dean, who had been walking from his kitchen to his living room, tripped over his rug. He grabbed the door frame to catch himself.

There was a moment of silence on the phone.

“Are you alive,” Charlie said after a second, tentatively.

“Castiel,” Dean said. “Castiel Novak?”

“Um. Yes?” Charlie said, trying to sound small and charming.

“Charlie, you’re kidding me.”

“I know,” Charlie said, drawing out the ‘o’ into a little understanding wail. “But after we graduated he went into interior design, and he’s so good at it, so back when I thought we’d be too busy to, you know, do the decorating ourselves after we moved in, I just sort of… spoke to him about it… and he said he’d do it for a really reduced rate, and scrap the consultation fee, so we’d basically just be paying market prices for whatever he chose, and…”

She kept rambling, filling up the space so that Dean couldn’t get an argumentative word in edgeways. He wasn’t sure he even had the words to be able to protest with, anyway. He scrubbed a hand over his face, and then looked down at his toe, which hadn’t enjoyed the trip on the rug.

“But you know I hate the guy,” Dean said when Charlie finally ran out of things to say. He’d meant it to sound jokey, but it came out just a bit too quiet.

There was a little rush of static down the phone as Charlie sighed.

“I know,” she said, in the gentlest tone of voice she had. “I know you do.”

“Can’t I just do it all, now that everything’s like it is?”

“It’s just… the deal he’s giving us is really good,” Charlie said, and he could hear the wretchedness in her tone.

“He can still do the deal?”

“Oh, yeah. His business is doing okay. You know what he’s like. He’s always got seven strategies for everything.”

“Right.” Dean bit out the word. He did know what Castiel was like. Or rather, he’d thought he did.

“But what with… everything… we won’t be able to afford any decent interior design if the deal with Castiel falls through. Which is, like… the least important problem in the whole world right now, maybe. But when this is over I want to live in a nice place with you, dude. Like we always said we would.”

Dean let out a breath.

“A special place of our own…” Charlie wheedled.

Ugh.

“In the centre of the city,” Dean said, after a second.

“With a kitchen island for you –”

“– and a gaming den for you –”

“– and a giant TV for both of us,” they finished together. They’d been wanting this since their first year of college. They’d worked so hard for it, to be able to live together and away from the pasts they’d struggled to leave behind.

Speaking of a past that Dean wanted to leave behind –

“But… Castiel Novak,” he said.

“Dude, listen. It’s going to be like, one Zoom call. Maybe two. Everything else you guys can do via email. And he’ll be completely professional, I’m like, one hundred percent sure.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Huh. Okay. So, you don’t think, just for example, just say, I don’t know…”

“Dean,” Charlie said, trying to head him off, but Dean was in full swing now.

“You don’t think he’ll, say, pretend to be really enjoying the job, and keep spending loads of time on the job, and definitely seem like he’s ready to start doing the job on a more permanent and exclusive basis, and then suddenly have a one-eighty and decide not to do the job at all?”

“Dean,” Charlie said again, and her tone of voice hovered between understanding and amusement.

Dean swallowed. He didn’t want to put any of it into words – how much it had really meant to him, what he’d felt growing between him and Castiel back in college. How happy it had made him when he’d thought that Castiel felt the same. And how much it had hurt when Castiel had blown him off for their first date, twice, to hang out with other friends.

“Listen,” Charlie said, “I swear. A couple Zoom calls, some emailing, that’s it.”

“Is he still…” Dean didn’t know how to phrase his question.

“Kind? Polite? Occasionally grumpy? Yeah. But he’s super not hot anymore, so.”

Dean made a sound of disbelief.

“When you’re emailing,” Charlie said, “you can just pretend it’s someone completely different, anyway, right? And I’ll help any way I can.”

Dean narrowed his eyes.

“Any way?” he said. “Fine. I’ll do it. But you have to be there.”

––––––––

Sitting in his lounge at noon the next day, Dean logged onto his Zoom, and started the meeting.

He’d insisted that he be the host. Castiel had apparently protested that he had a Zoom enterprise plan and he could host the call, but Dean got a business account through his work, and somehow it made him feel better to be the one arranging the time and starting things off.

He was calm.

He was in control.

He was going to talk to Castiel Novak about interior design.

And it was going to be fine. Years had passed since those days in college when Dean had felt so strongly for him. He was a different person now, and so was Castiel. This wasn’t going to be a big deal.

Someone logged into the meeting, and Dean’s heart skipped heavily, thudding hard and uneven in his chest. He squared his laptop on his coffee table, sat up, resisted the urge to look down at himself on the screen and check his hair –

“Hey, Dean,” Charlie said, and Dean breathed out.

He looked down at himself, and checked his hair.

Still fine. He looked fine. Just normal.

“Dean? Can you hear me?”

“I can hear you,” Dean said. “Sorry, hey.”

“Are you still mad at me?” Charlie’s picture on Dean’s screen was a little grainy, but he could see the half-grin, half-grimace on her face. “Look, I’ve been thinking, and it’s probably really unfair of me to just –”

“It’s fine,” Dean grunted, waving a hand. The last thing he needed was for Castiel to log onto the meeting right at the point when Charlie was reassuring him through this encounter with his years-old crush. “It’ll probably be good.”

“… Okay?” Charlie said, with the confusion of someone who was getting away with something much more easily than they’d expected.

“I get veto power over any weird crap you try to put into the design, though.”

“Like you wouldn’t assume you have that anyway,” Charlie said. Dean made a face, and then sent her an expletive via private message. “Charming,” Charlie said.

A third person joined the meeting.

Dean felt his heart rate soar. There was only one other person who had the invitation. This had to be him. Dean licked his lips, cleared his throat, brushed at his nose, shifted on his sofa, and then tried his best to sit still and look relaxed.

The picture flickered to life. There he was.

Castiel Novak, on Dean’s laptop screen. His hair was still unruly, and his narrow-eyed expression as he waited for the call to load was a familiar one. Familiar enough to make Dean’s chest ache.

“Hello?” Castiel said, and Dean was gone. He was gone. That low, rumbling voice was just the same as it had always been. If Dean had known how to breathe a second ago, he was now having trouble remembering exactly.

“Hi, Castiel,” Charlie said easily, as Dean typed out a quick salvo of messages to her.

>> fuck you he’s still exactly the same >> he’s still hot >> fuck this

“Dean, you can hear Castiel, can’t you?” Charlie said, her tone edged with an instruction. Be polite.

“Uh.” Dean looked at Castiel on his screen. He didn’t know why these words were so hard to say. When he spoke them, they came out far too soft. “Hey, Cas.”

Castiel blinked. Some of the tension seemed to go out of his shoulders.

“Hello, Dean,” he replied.

Dean almost wanted to laugh. He almost wanted to leap through the screen to where Castiel was. He definitely wanted to shut his laptop and throw it out the nearest window.

He settled for ducking his head to hide the slight smile he couldn’t repress, and the hurt that he knew had to be showing in his eyes. How did this feel so good and so bad all at once?

“Okay,” Charlie said, her tone bracing. “Thanks for coming to the meeting, guys. Dean, you’re recording this so we’ve got a transcript for later, right?”

“Sure am,” Dean said.

“Castiel, you’re comfortable with that?”

“Of course,” Castiel said.

How could Castiel be sitting there? Just sitting there in front of his bookshelves, looking that good and talking and moving like a real person? Dean had spent so long after they’d stopped talking just thinking about Castiel, arguing with him in his mind, picturing what could have happened if things had gone better between them. If Dean hadn’t been wrong about the way that Castiel had felt.

But now Castiel was just there. Dean could yell at him, right now. He could ask him what had happened. He could demand to know if there had ever been a time when Castiel had wondered if there was something going on between them.

Or he could just sit back, and listen to Charlie and Castiel get started on talking about paint and sofas and styles of wooden flooring.

>> you’re not talking >> say something

Dean read the messages from Charlie in the chat and blinked, and tried to focus on the conversation. Castiel was explaining the initial thoughts that he’d had about their place, and how they could use the space. Dean made an attempt at being able to interject with something relevant. Castiel’s voice sounded so good in his ears. Seriously, the guy could read the phone book and Dean would be on one knee. How had he forgotten the way that Castiel’s mouth moved when he spoke? The shape of his lips?

>> earth to dean, what is going on

When the new message from Charlie came through, Dean frowned. He’d tried to talk, but it wasn’t working. Instead, he typed out,

>> he’s just still the same

He hoped the message would be enough of an explanation. He saw Charlie glance towards the chat, and then launch into talking about her own thoughts on how they could repaint the exposed brick in the kitchen. Castiel nodded along seriously.

“And a kitchen island,” Dean blurted out. Charlie and Castiel both stopped talking. Charlie rolled her eyes, while Castiel’s mouth flicked upward in a smile.

“Ah, yes. The kitchen island. Of course. There are a few options for the shape…”

Of course, Dean repeated in his mind. Of course.

He typed out to Charlie,

>> I think he remembered I want a kitchen island?

Castiel kept going, mentioning a few websites that he thought Dean might like to look at and then sending them in the group chat for everyone to see. Dean nodded at them, and made filler noises as Castiel talked some more about different countertops.

Dean pressed his lips together hard for a second. It was messing him up that Castiel remembered something so small about him as the kitchen island thing. Who remembered that about someone they didn’t think was special? Someone they didn’t actually care much about?

>> Dean?

Charlie’s message was simple. He must be looking upset. Dean steeled his jaw, swallowed hard, and typed back,

>> just wish we’d’ve worked out.

On the screen, Charlie’s eyes narrowed into the briefest of winces. She replied to Castiel, giving Dean the space to be quiet.

The rest of the call was uneventful, because Charlie made it so. Castiel shared a couple of pictures with the two of them, and they both nodded enthusiastically. For half an hour, they talked about fabric colours and feature walls and where to put the TV.

Dean spent most of the time thinking about the kitchen island, and Castiel’s hair, and what it had felt like when Castiel had ditched him.

“Okay,” Charlie said eventually. “You’ve given us a lot to think about. Loads of great stuff, Castiel. Thanks so much.”

“My pleasure,” Castiel said.

“Yeah, thanks, Cas,” Dean said. Even those three words came out stilted and husky.

“You’re welcome,” Castiel said, and looked as though he were going to say something else, but then didn’t.

“Dean’ll send you the transcript, just so we’ve all got it for reference,” Charlie said. “Okay. I’m gonna sign off now. Bye, guys!”

“Bye,” Dean said, hurrying to end the meeting with a click, not wanting to be faced with even a second of screentime with just himself and Castiel. He tapped to ring off, just as Castiel said,

“Goodb-”

Dean stared at the screen for several seconds, in the sudden quiet of his lounge. He looked around the room, trying to find some solace in the familiarity of his own place and his things, find the ground under his feet again. That had been Castiel.

They’d talked. They’d actually spoken.

He’d still been so –

So Cas.

Dean gritted his teeth. He knew where that line of thought and feeling went – somewhere Castiel didn’t want to go. Somewhere that would leave Dean on the end of a phone in the middle of the street with a pit in his stomach and a reservation at the nicest restaurant in town that no one was going to keep.

He clicked across his screen, grabbing the transcript and firing it off in an email to Castiel. There. Done. Finished.

––––––––

Two days later, Dean got an email from Castiel, to schedule a Zoom meeting.

“I told you,” Dean growled at Charlie over the phone. “I wanted to be the one hosting.”

“I know,” Charlie said. “But look, he’s got it all figured out. Can we just go along with it?”

Dean closed his eyes. No, he wanted to shout. No. I want to feel like I have a handle on this, even if it’s just the tips of my fingers. No. I need this –

He ground his back teeth together, and lifted his chin even though no one could see him.

“He better have some great suggestions for storage,” he managed.

And so here they were, three days after the first Zoom call, with Dean being the one to open up an invitation to a meeting, this time. As the screen loaded, he took a gulp of the beer he’d put into a mug. It was eleven in the morning, and he needed it.

He needed it through the discussion about the bathroom surrounds.

He needed it through the debate over curtain colours.

He needed it every time Castiel pulled a thoughtful face, or smiled, or licked his lips – god. Then, Dean drank twice.

“If that’s all,” Castiel said, “I have another call in fifteen minutes.”

“Perfect,” Charlie said. “And Dean, you’d better check the transcript for this one. I could see you spacing out over there.”

Dean opened his mouth to defend himself, and then realised every defence he could make was something that he couldn’t say in front of Castiel, and closed his mouth again.

“Fine,” he said mutinously.

“Great. Bye, guys!”

Dean rang off without a word.

He went and ate some food to settle himself. Once he had an entire plate of pasta inside him, he felt slightly more able to go back to his laptop and open it up and check his email. Sure enough, there was the transcript in a message from Castiel.

With a roll of his eyes, Dean opened it. If he didn’t, Charlie would start making all kinds of decisions about their new place without him – and through all of this awkwardness, he still wanted to be able to have a say in the decoration of their apartment.

Hello, began the transcript. Good to see you again thank you for coming can you both hear me well…

Dean read on a little way. At one point, Charlie started talking at length about the pattern she wanted on the wall in her bedroom, some kind of stencilled effect; Dean almost skipped ahead, but stopped and frowned. Intercut with Charlie’s speech were some messages – messages from Castiel.

>> Dean looks good today. >> Like he always does.

Dean felt a flush race from the top of his head to his toes, and then bounce back up. He read the messages over again, and then again, his eyes wide. Was – was this a mistake? Some kind of glitch? But the messages were right there, in black and white.

Castiel had thought that he… looked good?

As he stared at the screen, something caught his eye. Dean sat forward on his sofa, gripping his laptop as he scrolled down further. Another message.

>> I’ve missed him so much.

One hand raised involuntarily to cover Dean’s mouth for a second. How had he missed these messages when they came in? Dean read back over them once again, even more carefully, and felt a second rush of hot static go through him.

These weren’t messages to the group chat. These were private messages. Messages that Castiel had sent just to Charlie, during the call. Dean kept reading.

>> Ever since the last time we spoke, there hasn’t been one day that’s passed that I haven’t thought of him.

Dean swallowed hard. These – these weren’t casual messages, thrown into the conversation. These were – these were – Dean didn’t have the words for it. Were they true? Were they real? Surely not, how could they be?

>> Even when I’m not thinking about him, there’s always a part of me hoping he’ll call. And I hate phone calls. But I wouldn’t from him.

That was the last of them. Dean set down his laptop carefully on the end of the sofa. He could feel that his cheeks were bright red. His heart was racing. He was too – it was too much for him to be able to smile, or text Charlie, or even move.

What did he do now? Castiel had sent all those messages privately. Did that mean Dean had to pretend he’d never seen them? Dean grabbed suddenly for his laptop, pulled up a search browser and typed in Zoom call private messages printed transcript.

A few seconds of reading later, he set the laptop back down. His hands were shaking slightly. So, it was because Castiel was the host of the Zoom call that the transcript automatically put all his private messages in, as well as –

Dean stopped.

The transcript.

It printed out the host’s private messages.

This time, it had printed out Castiel’s messages. But last time –

Last time –

Dean dropped his head into his hands.

“No,” he said out loud.

He looked up, around his lounge. The lounge that had been the same after he’d seen Castiel again three days ago. The lounge that had been the same after Dean had seen Castiel’s private messages. And the lounge that was still the same, even now, when he realised Castiel had seen Dean’s.

What was it that he’d said? Something about Castiel being hot. And – Dean covered his face again.

“No. No. No,” he said. But he couldn’t make it untrue. Castiel had seen the message that Dean had sent to Charlie, wishing that things could have worked out between him and Cas.

The shame was like a punch to the gut. Castiel had been only too clear about his feelings in college, when he’d taken care to escape both the dates that they’d set up.

Except… except Castiel had read those messages, and he’d – Dean stopped trying to suffocate himself with his own hands for a second. Castiel had read those messages, and he hadn’t run away. He hadn’t awkwardly ignored them. He hadn’t asked Dean to stop.

He’d responded in kind. He’d sent an answer, of a kind.

Dean grabbed for his phone, and pulled up his messenger. He scrambled to find his chat with Charlie.

>> Charlie??

He hovered his thumbs over the screen. He couldn’t think of what else to say – but the response was immediate.

>> Call him >> Trust me

She sent a phone number.

Dean stared down at it, his mouth slightly open. Was this happening? Was any of this real? Before he could wake up from the dream, he tapped the number on his phone screen and hit Call.

The phone buzzed in his ear, just once, and then the call was picked up.

“Dean?”

The single word was so heavy, so weighed down with feeling, that Dean took a second to be able to respond.

“Cas,” he said.

There was a moment of quiet. Dean didn’t know how to breathe again. He seemed to keep forgetting.

“Got your messages,” he managed.

“I got yours,” Castiel said.

His voice was so good to hear – so good. But Dean was twisting up inside.

“Look,” he said wretchedly, “Cas, you gotta just tell me. Has something changed for you? About… about us?”

“Changed?” Castiel said. “No. Nothing’s changed.”

It was a blow. It was the sudden dousing of a spark of hope. Dean felt his chest go hollow.

“Oh,” he heard himself say. “Oh. Right.”

“But… something’s changed for you,” Castiel said. “Hasn’t it?”

“For me?” Dean managed to say through his dry throat. “No, Cas.”

“… Oh.”

Dean wanted to hit something. This – what was happening? Castiel – he’d read Dean’s messages – he’d sent those messages back the same way – but now it turned out Castiel still felt the same as he had in college, he still didn’t want to date Dean. How could he? Surely when he’d sent those messages, he’d have known what Dean would think?

What he’d hope?

“Um,” Castiel said. “I thought this would… I don’t understand. When you sent those messages, I thought it meant that you… that you felt…” His voice trailed off.

“You know how I feel,” Dean said, and the anger was burning through in his tone of voice. “I don’t get why you’d send those messages, if you didn’t… you know… the same. Feel. The same.” Anger gave way to awkwardness as his sentence stumbled.

“I sent them because I thought – I thought you felt – I thought you’d want them,” Castiel said. “When I read yours, I wanted to reply the same way, I… I didn’t want you to be embarrassed.”

“You thought you’d save me from being embarrassed,” Dean said, “by making me think you liked me like that? When you don’t?”

“Liked you like what?” Castiel said, sounding startled over the phone. Dean made an actual grunt of frustration.

“Like… c’mon, Cas, really? Like that. Like, like like.”

“But I – I do,” Castiel said, so quietly that Dean barely heard it.

Dean’s chest seized.

“No,” he said. “No. You just said you still don’t feel that way.”

The hiss of static on the line was painful. But then –

“Dean, I’ve always felt this way.”

The noise Dean made was involuntary. He put his hand over his mouth again, just for a second, to try to catch it.

“You didn’t know?” Castiel said, and Dean knew him well enough to be able to picture the look of disbelief on his face. “But Dean, I… I thought you knew. I was so obvious.”

“Cas,” Dean said, “you ditched me for our first date. Twice.”

“What? You’ve never asked me out on a date.”

Dean’s mouth fell open.

“Are you kidding?” he said.

“Are you?”

“Cas, I asked you to meet me for dinner. I booked us a place. First time, you said you had to help someone with their homework. Second time, you said you got invited to go see a movie.”

“That – you – that was a date? No, I – I’d remember –”

“First time was right before midterms,” Dean said. “Second time was right after. You did homework with Meg, and then you went to a movie with Uriel.”

“Oh…” The penny seemed to drop. “But – no. That wasn’t a date, those weren’t dates – it was just going to be another group night… like we always had, with Charlie and Billie and everyone?”

“Group night? Cas, I booked us a fancy dinner, I was dressed up –”

“You didn’t tell me,” Castiel said.

“I invited you to dinner!”

“We were always asking each other to come over to eat together, and it was never a date,” Castiel said. “But – but it – but you – some of them were?”

Dean could feel his world crumbling. No – no, not his world. Just some parts of it. Just the spiky, painful, horrible part of it that had grown up twisted and aching because of Castiel ditching him.

“I thought you left me,” Dean said. “Twice.”

“I would never do that,” Castiel said. “You were the one who stopped talking to me.”

“I thought I had to be making you uncomfortable… trying to date you when you didn’t feel… but you would’ve – you would’ve said – yes?”

“If I’d known it was a date,” Castiel said, “I would have gone through Hell to get there.”

What could Dean say? All of these years of silence, all of the hurt, all of the worrying and thinking and arguing with a ghost, and the whole time Castiel would have said yes. He would have been there. He just hadn’t known. He tried to reach for words and nothing came. He tried to parse his own feelings but it was overwhelming.

“You didn’t say a word to me,” Castiel said. “You didn’t even give me a chance to explain.”

Dean opened his mouth, and then closed it again. He stared around the static sameness of his lounge as though anything he saw there could possibly have the answers.

“I was wrong,” Dean said, his voice hoarse. “I’m so – I’m sorry, Cas.”

Castiel breathed out, a huff of static down the line.

Maybe it was broken, Dean thought. Maybe even though – even though they both – even still – maybe they’d broken it too much to fix it now.

“I could have tried harder to talk to you,” Castiel said softly. “I thought you must have figured out how I felt and decided you were better off dumping me. I could have tried to talk to you about it.” There was a pause, and then he said, “I’m sorry, too. Sorry I let you go.”

“You really… you really feel…” Dean couldn’t even put it into words. “I mean, those messages…”

“I said I missed you,” Castiel said, in that perfect low rumbling voice.

“I missed you, too.” It was so much truth in so few words that Dean felt his own voice give. “Cas, I… fuck. Is it too late now? For this?”

Castiel took a moment to answer.

“I’m surprised every day,” he said, “that I still want you just as much as I did on the day we stopped talking. I kept waiting for it to fade. Waiting for myself to finally realise you weren’t coming back. But it was like it didn’t matter. Like the time passing didn’t matter. Like it couldn’t touch us.”

Dean couldn’t smile. He couldn’t do it. Now was the time, if there had ever been one, but it was too much, way too much.

“I get it,” he said. “I get it. I want you too.” It rose in him like a rush of heat. “I want you so much, Cas.”

“I’m here.” A pause. “You can have me.”

“Fuck… Cas, I… I…” The sensation was only just starting to feel like happiness, a happiness so huge that it was devastating.

“When this is over…”

“Come on a date with me,” Dean said. “Cas, date me.”

It was silent on the line. For a second, Dean’s certainty wavered.

“Yes,” Castiel said. “Now.”

“What?”

“Now.”

“But – we can’t – nowhere’s open, we’re not allowed to –”

“Now,” Castiel said. “We’re on a date. Right now. This is it.”

Finally, finally, Dean managed to smile.

“Okay,” he said. “Now.”

––––––––

A week later, Charlie sent him a text.

>> Haven’t heard from you in an entire twenty-four hours. Did I do good finding you a project?

Dean, on a Zoom call with Castiel, grinned down at his phone.

You did fine, he typed. You did good.

[novantinuum]

Intake (SUF one-shot)

Fandom: Steven Universe

Rating: Teen Audiences (TW: brief discussion of mental illness related topics like suicide ideation and intrusive thoughts.)

Words: 2800

Summary: Steven fills out an important form.

This is set multiple months pre The Future, and is a small glimpse into Steven’s journey to find a therapist.

If you read this and enjoy, I’d greatly appreciate your support through reblogs here, or kudos/comments on AO3 as well. AO3 link will be provided in the reblogs. Thank you! <3

____

His leg bounces with a restless fervor as he slumps in the waiting room chair, clutching the clipboard and pencil the receptionist gave him with a white knuckled grip. Gaze hardened, he takes a good long look at the other patients spread across the room, a few of them appearing equally as spent and fidgety as him, and hunches over the intake form so his answers will be conclusively obscured from their view.

He grimaces. Ugh. Why would a place like this lay out their chairs so close, anyways? Why even give people the option of being nosey? He may be stuck seeing this therapist Connie’s mom recommended because he’s all messed up in the head, but it’s not like he wants the whole planet to know about it. Goodness knows all of Beach City and Little Homeworld already does thanks to his little ‘incident’ a month back. That’s bad enough.

His chest almost feeling hollow as he sighs, he scrawls in his name, his birthday, his cell number, address, and an emergency contact (Dad, who left for the car to give him privacy after signing a few forms he can’t fill out as a minor) on the lines indicated. He leaves out his many middle names for once, all of them leaving a bitter taste in his mouth at this present moment. Briefly, he wonders if this will be a problem, as these past few weeks Dr. Maheswaran assisted his dad in finally acquiring legal documentation and health insurance for him, and per those records he’s officially ‘Steven Quartz Universe’ in the eyes of the law.

Eventually he shrugs, figuring the likelihood of there being another sixteen-year-old ‘Steven Universe’ here today to confuse him with is nearing zero.

Okay, what’s next?

He briefly skims over the next few passages— a bunch of legalese about the terms of counselor-patient confidentiality and when they might have to breach that for safety reasons— and signs where indicated so they know he looked over it.

Someone sitting two chairs away coughs. He can’t help but flinch at the sudden noise, and folds himself tighter in his own seat as he flips over the first page of the form and continues to read.

In a few words, explain why you’ve chosen to reach out to us today. How can we help you?

Steven frowns, fingers twitching around the shaft of the pencil as he contemplates how to respond. For whatever reason, the question “explain why you’re here” feels very blunt and antagonistic to him in a way he can’t quite ascertain. Like... in a “give the wrong answer, get booted right out the door” sorta way. He lifts his head, peering at all the humans spread across the room, each and every one with their own story, the central character of their own worlds. Some are texting on their phones as they wait for the receptionist to call their names, others are filling out forms as well. What brought these people here, he wonders? Surely there’s plenty of people having a worse time than him right now. Surely there’s people with real problems, people who are literally struggling just to stay alive from day-to-day. He’s not like that, right? Besides that one little wobble a month back, he’s been handling his problems on his own fairly okay. Hasn’t he? So what makes him selfish enough to think that he’s worth anyone’s time?

In his pocket his phone vibrates, knocking him back into reality. He yanks it out and switches it on to look at the new text splashed across the lock screen:

Dad: Hey Schtu-ball, just wanna let you know that I’m proud of you and love you very much. You’ve got this!

He stares at these words for a good minute, the kind sentiment— despite reading as a little hopelessly over-encouraging— filling the hollow space in his chest partway. Even if his dad’s been a bit overbearing in his affections this past month, it’s clear he means well.

So. Why am I here today, he thinks, reading the question over again. He folds his fingers up into a stiff fist, pulling his thumb across his knuckles. After licking his chapped lips and shoving his phone back in his pocket, he scribbles a hasty reply.

I feel really angry and empty and tense and just want to be better.

The teen pauses, allowing those words to echo over and over in his mind, to truly sink in. It’s such a succinct and to-the-point admission that he suddenly wonders why he ever doubted he was less deserving of aid than anyone else in this waiting room.

His countenance a little lighter now and his shoulders growing less stiff, he moves on to the next section.

To aid our counselors in providing you the best possible care, please rate the following statements on a scale from zero to four, zero meaning “not at all like me,” and four meaning “extremely like me.”

Steven’s eyes dart across the length of the massive table below these instructions, his previous anxiety rushing back into his brittle bones as if it’d never left. Each row is host to a short sentence and five blank boxes, numbered zero to four. Read it and rate yourself, right? Should be simple enough. But as his glance flits over these statements and he understands the sort of personal, probing questions they’re asking through them, he begins to mistrust his previous burst of optimism. Dread floods his system, making his cheeks flush bright pink. Heart pounding at the mere thought of people staring, he drops his head lower, successfully hiding most of his face behind the clipboard until he can coax that betraying glow into fading away.

In the end, this goes to prove that it doesn’t matter if everyone says therapy will be ‘helpful’ for him; reflecting on all this junk is still gonna suck.

Quietly, he takes a steadying breath and forces himself to read on, to crack open the hornet’s nest that is the depths of his crap brain.

1. I am shy around others.

He considers this for a moment. Shy. Historically, this has never been a word people would use to describe him. For years he reveled in the thrill of meeting new people, new Gems. His childhood eagerness to engage in fellowship with those around is half the reason Era 3 even exists. And he’s fine around people he knows. Like, on a rare good day he has no problem playing board games or watching cheesy soap operas with his friends. But to be fair... as of late, his eagerness to meet anyone new feels like it’s all but vanished. Is that being shy? Or is that just him failing to care for anyone beyond his inner circle?

With a small shrug he checks the box for one, and moves on.

2. I don’t enjoy being around people as much as I used to.

Hmm. Probably a three. People are unintentionally exhausting these days. He used to be energized by social interaction, and now it just leaves him sucked dry. Most days he’d rather stick to his room.

3. I feel isolated and alone.

The weight of the diamond embedded in his belly— something he normally barely notices— grows ever more apparent as he marks off a four.

4. My heart often races for no good reason.

Uh, yeah. What happened just a minute ago is a pretty good tell. Four.

5. I have spells of terror or panic.

Another four.

6. I am anxious that I might have a panic attack while in public.

Four once more. He holds his pencil tighter, squirming in his seat as he tries (and fails) not to think about the pale scars spread across his back, hidden in his hairline, and on the underside of his arms, indentations that once marked the base of the crystalline spines that jut out from between his scales.

7. I think about food more than I’d like to.

Steven pauses at this one. For once, he’s not sure he can say this statement applies to him. Truth be told, he only started caring about what he put in his mouth earlier this year, when he cut meat and fish out of his diet. And that’s not... a bad thing? It’s not bad to want to consider the impact your food choices have on the environment? He definitely didn’t choose to do so for self-denying reasons, and that’s probably what they’re asking about. He checks zero, and moves on.

8. I feel out of control when I eat.

He almost checks another zero, but then he remembers that day after the proposal... and the week after his incident. And he decides that even if he doesn’t consciously obsess over the food he eats, there’s still a few occasions where once he starts snacking he finds it difficult to stop. A one it is, then.

9. I have sleep difficulties.

This statement nearly makes him laugh. Does he have sleep difficulties. Hah. He doesn’t think he’s gotten a truly restful night of sleep since he sacrificed himself to Homeworld at fourteen.

A solid four. No question.

10. My thoughts are racing.

Four.

11. I feel uncomfortable around people I don’t know.

Hmm. Two.

12. I drink alcohol frequently.

The only alcohol he’s ever had is a tiny sip of his dad’s with permission at Garnet’s wedding reception, and it tasted terrible. He has no interest in drinking again. Zero.

13. When I drink alcohol I can’t remember what happened.

Zero.

14. I drink more than I should.

Zero again.

15. I have done something I have regretted because of drinking.

Another zero. It almost makes him feel better, just knowing there’s a decent number of lines on this paper that aren’t a carbon copy of his lived experience.

16. I feel sad all the time.

Aaaand back to “the story of his life.” Briefly, he wonders if ‘feeling sad’ is the same thing as feeling nothing at all. But then again, does the difference really matter? He checks the box for three.

17. I am concerned that other people don’t like me.

Three. Although honestly, he’s even more concerned that people continue to like him after everything he’s done.

18. I feel worthless.

Steven nibbles at the inside of his cheek as he reads this statement, memories automatically flashing through the pathetic events of the last few weeks, through all the days he barely crawled out from under his covers, all the days he didn’t even manage to brush his teeth or run his fingers through his greasy, knotted hair, all those awful days he couldn’t so much as play one of his video games without growing tired of it in minutes and taking a restless nap for the rest of the afternoon instead.

Four.

19. I feel helpless.

Two. Everyday affairs are a drag, but at the very least he knows he can fight his way out of danger in a pinch. He wouldn’t call that helpless.

20. I have thoughts of ending my life.

He freezes. Goes back, reads this line again. Reads it a third time to make sure he’s not horrendously misconstruing the prompt he’s been given.

(Tries not to think too deeply about the graphic images that flood his imagination some nights. It’s just stray thoughts, though. He’s fine.)

One, he marks, although his muscles can’t help but twitch as he shifts his wrist, as if deep down he knows he’s underplaying his answer.

21. I feel tense.

Steven gives a small snort under his breath. Yeah, he outright admitted as much earlier in this form. Four.

22. I get angry easily.

His grip tightens.

Four.

23. I have difficulty controlling my temper.

He swallows hard, his mouth feeling abnormally dry. He’s not sure he likes how blunt and probing this questionnaire is becoming.

Four...

24. I sometimes feel like breaking or smashing things.

His knuckles go white around his pencil, and he only barely resists the temptation to snap it in half as he feels a rush of hard light flow the distance from his gem through the veins of his arm. Geeze, it’s not like he means to break things! It’s just that all of his stupid powers are linked with his emotions, and whenever he gets even marginally upset now things start to splinter, crack in half, and inevitably end up broken. Just another sign he’s fated to ruin everything around him forever, and that his intent doesn’t matter. Why do they have to pry into this? He already feels terrible enough for thinking these things.

Three, he checks, his eyes damp, but mostly because he’s too scared what their response will be otherwise.

25. I am not able to concentrate as well as usual.

He takes a deep breath, coaxing his body to return to a baseline state. Eh. He’ll give this a two.

26. I feel self-conscious around others.

His glance skirts over the edge of the clipboard to monitor the four others currently spread out across the room. One’s rhythmically swinging their legs, another is still filling out a form like him, but sitting criss-cross on the chair, and the other two are quietly typing on their phones. Thankfully none of them are pressing an ounce of attention his way, (at least, not right now), but that doesn’t stop him from feeling like an exposed nerve. Three.

27. I am afraid I may lose control and act violently.

The raw memories hit like lightning before he can even think to prepare.

Flashes of Pink. Orange fragments, cold and slick in his palms. Thunder splits the skies overhead, each cacophonous sound manifesting in perfect synchronicity with his erratic heartbeat, with each tidal wave of thoughts gushing like a maelstrom through his head: SHATTERER, I’m a shatterer, I’m—

Feeling almost dizzy from the intensity of his heart’s pulse, he knows with full certainty that his cheeks are glowing bright pink again. All he can do is clench his fists, suck down whatever amount of fresh air his lungs will allow, and pray to the very stars themselves that it’ll fade away before it garners the attention of every last human in this place.

He checks the box for four, pencil marking so hard that slivers of graphite splinter off onto the page, and moves on before he can be cowardly enough to change his answer.

28. I have thoughts of hurting others.

His fingernails claw into the thin denim at his knee, limbs outright quivering as he stews in his seat, as he’s forced to reflect upon all the ugly, ugly thoughts that have flit across his awareness over the past weeks. Thoughts about one Gem specifically. He’s... always been angry, always harbored deep resentment... but ever since his most recent trip to visit Her, he hasn’t been able to shake this awful idea: a vision of him standing over the remnants of her gemstone, shattered, fragments spilled across the otherwise pristine floors of Homeworld. He... he didn’t do it when he had the chance. He wouldn’t do it, would he?

(Orange fragments, cold and slick...)

Would he??

And yet nevertheless, the thought tortures him with its frequency, makes him feel downright nauseous at every turn. He doesn’t want it. He doesn’t want to feel this way at all.

Four.

29. I am unable to keep up with my schoolwork.

Stop. Sharp inhale. Staccato, shaky exhale. Repeat, deeper this time. Repeat.

(He can no longer see neon pink reflecting in the smooth metal clasp at the top of his clipboard.)

Okay. Schoolwork.

N/A, he writes in one of the boxes, arm still trembling from the last two questions despite his attempt at cool-down exercises. Not applicable. He hasn’t even been to school, and dreads the inevitability of this therapist asking about that mess.

30. It’s hard to stay motivated for my classes.

N/A.

31. I feel confident that I can succeed academically.

N/A, once more.

And like that, the questionnaire is over. Steven is quick to hide his answers behind the front page, and slides the pencil through the length of the metal clip. He glances around him, drinking in his surroundings with pinpoint precision. Despite his earlier concerns, no one is maliciously staring. No one’s whispering. He internally wrestled with a few challenging subjects and what do you know, it didn’t end in an embarrassingly public meltdown. He— he wipes a stray tear from his eye with the butt of his palm— he took a solid step forward today.

Coercing his body to move, he pulls himself out of the cushioned chair and crosses the room.

“I finished,” he says softly, proudly, as he hands the clipboard and pencil to the receptionist. She smiles and accepts his hard-fought offering.

For the first time in a while, the smile he instinctively flashes back almost feels genuine.

I want to be better, he thinks. I will be better.

____

Notes:

This fic is loosely based on my own experience of the intake process, and the questionnaire I had to fill out. No two intake experiences are the same though, of course. This is merely one possibility. I also take personal liberties on the way I depict Steven’s struggle with mental health, and acknowledge and respect that no two fans’ interpretation will be the same.

Additional notes: -Steven’s still a minor, so he can’t actually sign contracts. I figure Greg signed a handful of forms beforehand as his guardian, and then left to allow his son a bit of privacy with filling out the questionnaire stuff. Since he's a teen, they're still giving him the full confidentiality clauses to look over so he's wholly aware how that works, though.

-To expand on a brief comment made in the midst of this, I headcanon that Steven cut both meat and fish out of his diet, and thus actually slipped up on his vegetarian diet when he was training with Jasper. I interpret this as further showcasing how the poor kid— due to being mentally vulnerable at the time and thus liable to coercion/unwise decisions— began to take actions that went against much of his established morality. He ended up sacrificing his dietary choices during those days, just like he briefly sacrificed his pacifistic views to fight Jasper.

-I also headcanon that the therapist Steven is going in to see after this isn’t the one he eventually sticks with and mentions as “my new therapist” in The Future. It’s totally normal and okay to try a few different people to find someone who you click with, after all.

Thank you for reading!

[vgckwb]

ML: Isolation Chapter 26: Bravery

Monday morning came. Of course, Adrien was wondering about how everyone would react to Friday’s stunt. Although, at the moment, Adrien had other things to worry about. Before going to class, he had taken the time to assist with a Noir Notes request.

A kid was having some trouble with some bullies on his way to school everyday. A friend of theirs noticed and asked if Cat Noir could escort them to school, which of course Adrien did. On their way, the bullies popped out at the usual place, but were surprised to see Cat Noir. They ran away, but not before Cat Noir took their picture.

Once the duo got to school, the teachers were perplexed. Cat Noir explained the situation. Once they were made aware, the teachers apologized to the student, and started taking steps to deal with the bullies.

With that, Cat Noir’s job was done, and Adrien had to get to school. Adrien began running. He ran and ran to his school, which wasn’t too far, but it wasn’t a hop, skip and a jump away. Upon seeing Francois Dupont, he thought Yes. I’m almost there. He then crashed into someone.

When Adrien started getting up, he saw a kid in a red hoodie panicking. “I’m so sorry!” He said. “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry…” He just kept going.

Adrien was confused and concerned. “Ummm…”

“AH!” the boy shrieked. He left and rushed into the school.

That was weird. Adrien looked down to see a notebook. He picked it up. “Marc’s Stories”? He checked the time. “I don’t want to be late. I guess I have to give it to him later.” Adrien rushed to change back into his clothes and get to school on time.

During class, Adrien was wondering about what was in the book he found as Cat Noir. He looked around to make sure the coast was clear, and he took out the book to begin reading. Lucky for him, due to hi homeschooling, he knew the materials being taught, so he could focus on this and not miss much.

As Adrien looked through the book, he saw all sorts of fictional stories. He didn’t have time to read them all in-depth, but from the pieces he read, he was impressed. Among the latest entries were stories about Cat Noir. While Cat Noir in real life was mostly a pacifist who helped people by either talking to them, or doing some other action, in these stories, he was a real hero with powers, fighting villains left and right. Adrien was impressed, and a little embarrassed.

During a break, Adrien packed up his stuff, as well as the book. He was on his way to leave, when he was stopped by someone tugging on his sleeve. He looked over. “Alix?”

“Can we talk?” she asked bluntly.

Adrien looked at his bag. I guess this can wait a little while longer. I mean, if I show up now, he might figure out Cat Noir goes to school here. “Uh, sure.”

“Not here,” Alix said. She started walking. “Well?”

“Uh, right” Adrien said, still kind of thrown for a loop. He followed Alix to a more private spot. Once Alix stopped, she sighed. “What’s up?” Adrien asked.

Alix looked at Adrien. “Well, you were there, right?” she asked back. “The auction, where Cat Noir showed up.”

“Uh, yeah, of course,” Adrien said.

Alix sighed again. “Sorry. I’ve just been in a fog since then.”

Adrien smiled. “It’s fine.”

Alix smiled. She then frowned. “Ugh. So, there’s a few things that need to be explained. That thing Cat Noir gave me was part of this pocket watch that’s been in my family for generations. It was given to me at a previous event. You know about Marinette, right?” Adrien nodded. “Well, she was helping her parents during that event. She tripped and broke the watch.”

Alix continued looking forlorn. “I was slightly relieved when my father said it could be fixed, but then a piece of it went missing. The piece Cat Noir returned to me.” She looked really upset at herself. “All this time, I blamed Marinette.”

Adrien knew all of this and more, but needed to pretend not to know, and wanted to be a good friend. “Did she take it?”

“She couldn’t have,” Alix said. “Everyone was looking at her. She had no opportunity to take anything, much less move it. And I’ve been trying to make sense of this ever since it was found.”

“How so?” Adrien asked.

Alix was unsure of what to say exactly, but tried. “Well, I think someone had to move it, if it was hidden in or around the Napoleon painting, like Cat Noir said. But Marinette couldn’t have been it. But, I’ve been blaming Marinette. And now, I’m thinking that blame was a little misplaced.” Alix looked at Adrien. “And that’s why I came to you.” Adrien was a little confused. “Because you’re the only one here who doesn’t actually KNOW Marinette.”

“Oh. Right” Adrien said. He did know, he just sort of forgot he wasn’t supposed to. You couldn’t blame him though, as the two of them JUST started going out. He was still VERY excited by that.

“Everyone else is so… not a fan of Marinette…” Alix tried putting gracefully. “And I sort of get it. She was...weird about Lila. But I don’t think she had it in her to actually steal.”

“But...everyone says she did,” Adrien interjected.

“Yeah,” Alix said. “I don’t believe it though. Even if she was jealous of Lila, I know she wouldn’t go that far. But I was so blinded by my rage. ‘She broke my watch, and lost a part of it’ was all I was thinking. Marinette can be clumsy, but...I don’t know...I just started believing what everyone else believed, and it got into my head that the incident with the watch might have been intentional, and maybe she would steal. But now that I know that it was just accidental, I don’t think she stole anything either” Alix explained. “This is so frustrating, you know?”

“I...think so…” Adrien said.

“I can’t say anything because no one would believe me at this point,” Alix continued. “Not without hard proof, and I have no idea who would take Lila’s necklace.” She sighed. “I just don’t know what to do…”

Adrien smiled. “Well, I mean, yeah, it does sound impossible to say that without knowing who actually did it. But, if you believe that she didn’t, there is one thing you can do right away.” Alix looked at him, curious. “Apologize.”

Alix was stunned. “But she doesn’t leave her room anymore” Alix countered. “I mean, it’s one thing that we’re allowed to go to the bakery now, but if I’m seen actually IN her room…”

“Right,” Adrien said. “Well, I’m sure that her parents would be willing to relay whatever you have to say to her.”

Alix was surprised, but delighted. “Thanks.” She sighed once more. “I'm glad you started coming to school. If you weren’t here, I wouldn’t know what to do.”

Adrien smiled. “I’m glad too.” The two of them smiled, nodded, and headed back to class.

After school, Adrien rushed off. He hid and changed into his Cat Noir costume, grabbed Marc’s book, and headed back out. First, he tried to make sure no one saw him, then after a bit, he didn’t mind. As long as no one could trace his movements, he was fine. Once he began his search in earnest, he was noticed. “Cat Noir?” Adrien turned to see that it was Max. “What are you doing here?”

Adrien walked up to Max. “Well, something happened on a mission this morning, so I’m here to take care of it.”

“I see,” Max said, intrigued.

“Well, as long as I’m here,” Adrien asked, “have you talked with the principal yet about you know who?”

Max looked a little disappointed. “Not yet. I was on my way now though. To be honest, I wanted to see what you were doing on Friday.”

“I see.”

Max sighed. “I know you’re the paragon of courage, but not everyone is. Even though there was nothing more that I wanted to do than bring Markov back, every time I tried, I panicked.”

Adrien felt for Max. He placed his hands on his shoulders. “I get it. None of this seems easy. But the fact that you’re doing it at all is amazing.” He removed his hands. “Besides, the only reason I can go about doing things with such reckless abandon is because I’m hiding behind a mask. You’re going to speak up for your friend as you, and there’s nothing braver than that.”

Max smiled. “Thanks Cat Noir. That’s just what I needed.”

“Well, I’m always willing to help,” Adrien responded. He saw the boy he crashed into earlier out of the corner of his eye. “Well, I gotta go. Good luck!” He saluted, while Max nodded, and left.

Meanwhile, the boy was muttering “Where is it? Where is it? Where is it?”

“Looking for this?” Cat Noir said, holding up his book. The boy was astounded. “You dropped it when we bumped into each other this morning.”

The boy was awestruck. He nervously took the book back. “Thank you.”

Adrien smiled. “I’m sorry.” The boy looked perplexed. “Curiosity got the better of me, and I skimmed through it.”

“Oh no!” the boy said.

“Marc, is it?” Adrien asked. He nodded. “I have to say, I’m actually impressed.” Marc was stunned, and somewhat relieved. “I didn’t read it all as a whole, but from the bits I did read, you're really good.”

Marc smiled. “Thanks… Ugh.”

“What’s wrong?” Adrien asked.

“Nothing…” Marc said. “It’s just…” he sighed. “I’ve...been wanting to collaborate with someone for a while now...but I don’t think he likes me…”

“What gives you that idea?” Adrien asked.

“Well…” Marc began. “I was working with someone to maybe get something off the ground...but then, um, well, they got kicked out of school…”

“Marinette…” Adrien let slip.

Marc was confused. “You’ve heard of her?”

“Well…” Adrien said, trying to regain his focus. “I’ve heard the name a few times. It comes up sometimes when I meet with people  who go to this school.”

“I see…” Marc said. “I don’t think she did anything wrong though...but that’s not how he sees it…”

“Hmmm” Adrien said.

“And I can’t just talk to him!” Marc continued spewing. “Ugh. What am I going to do?”

Adrien began thinking. An idea then started to form. “Say, Marc.” Marc looked up. “You want to collaborate with this person, right?” Marc nodded. “Well, I think I might have a solution for that.” Marc was curious, but ecstatic. “I just need to think things over for a bit. Can you wait?”

“Of course! Anything for you, Cat Noir!”

“Great!” Adrien was about to leave.

“And hey,” Marc said. “Thank you for, well, I guess, everything. Ever since you started showing up, I’ve felt...braver than I had before.” Adrien smiled, nodded, and left.

Later at home, he brought up the group chat.

Adrien: So, in my escapades today, I met a nice boy named Marc.

Marinette: You met Marc?

Marinette: How?

Adrien: We kind of ran into each other. Well, he and Cat Noir.

Marinette: I see…

Adrien: He told me you were trying to help him collaborate with someone.

Marinette: Yeah, he’s a really good writer.

Marinette: I’ve been wanting him to pair up with Nathaniel in your class, since his art is second to none.

Chloe: Is this just going to be an online date between the two of you?

Chloe: Because if it is, I don’t see the reason we need to be here.

Kagami: Chloe!

Chloe: ...Sorry.

Adrien giggled. Obviously, they did tell Chloe and Kagami about them dating, and everything surrounding that.

Adrien: She’s just uncomfortable about us lovey-dovey types.

Marinette: Adrien…

Adrien: Sorry.

Adiren: I’m still a bit giddy.

Chloe: I’ve noticed.

Adrien: I’m sure whenever you start dating someone, you’ll be just as bad as I am.

Kagami: Nah, she’d be worse.

Kagami: After all, she’s Chloe Bourgeois. She doesn’t do ANYTHING second rate.

Chloe: …

Adrien: lol

Chole: IS there a point?!

Adrien: Yes, actually.

Adrien: I do have an idea on how to help.

Adrien: But it is a big risk, so I wanted to run it by you all.

Chloe: And what is this plan?

Adrien: I need to march into the lion’s den.

Chloe: Huh?

Adrien: I think I need to talk to Alya.

Marinette: That shouldn’t be a problem.

Adrien: I need to talk to her AS Cat Noir.

Marinette: WHAT?!

Marinette: That’s crazy!

Adrien: I know, but hear me out.

Adrien: I figure if I give her something, she might make a section of Noir Notes dedicated to fictional material surrounding Cat Noir.

Marinette: Oh, I think I get it.

Marinette: You want to use that so that Marc can post his stories so they'd get noticed by Nathaniel.

Adrien: Exactly!

Kagami: I’m not so sure this is a good idea.

Kagami: She did notice that the two of us are different.

Kagami: If you show up, you might give the whole game away.

Adrien: I get it, but if we want to help, there might not be another option.

Adrien: 1. I only know about Marc’s plight as Cat Noir. As unlikely as it might be, if I approach Alya as Adrien for this, if those two run into each other, that might give up the game even more.

Adrien: And 2. I do have more clout as Cat Noir, so it’d be a much better guarantee.

Adrien: And since Nathaniel is in our class, this might help loose Lila’s grip on him, if only ever so slightly.

Kagami: Hmmm.

Chloe: Well, if Friday was any indication, we CAN start doing some more crazy stunts.

Chloe: And nothing is as crazy as going to the one person who most wants Cat Noir unmasked.

Adrien: I can think of a few other ways to do this…

Adrien: But this is the most direct way.

Marinette: I say go for it.

Chloe: Really?

Kagami: But you’d have the most to lose if the truth escapes.

Marinette: I know.

Marinette: But I trust Adrien.

Adrien smiled and blushed.

Adrien: Thanks.

Kagami: Well, if Marinette’s on board, then so am I.

Chloe: Fine.

Adrien: Great!

Adrien: Well, with that settled, I would like to switch to just talking with Marinette.

Chloe: Thank goodness.

She logged off.

Kagami: Have fun you two.

She also logged off.

Adrien and Marinette switched to their private messaging.

Adrien began. “So, have I ever told you I think you’re the bravest person I know?

“What?! No, I can’t be.”

“It’s true.”

“How? I’m so timid.”

“You were brave enough to tell me I hurt your feelings. That couldn’t have been easy.”

“Well… Only because Kagami said I should…”

“Still, saying you’re going to do something and doing it are two different things. Besides, I’ve heard your name often enough in terms of ‘outside of Lila, she’s actually really nice and helpful.’”

“Really?”

“Definitely. And you continue to help people as Ladybug. Despite everything, you still wanted to reach out and do something. THAT takes real courage.”

“...Thank you.” Marinette started blushing. “But what brought this on?”

“I’ve just been thinking about this all day. It’s just another way you’re wonderful.”

“You’re wonderful too, you know.”

“Thanks.”

“Well, I should get going. I have a secret project I’m working on.”

“What is it?

“I can’t tell you, it's a secret.”

“Gotcha. Well, I’m going to find out sooner or later. After all, I figured you out, didn’t I?”

“Well, I’ll be more careful guarding this secret.”

“Very well. Good night then.”

“Good night.” They logged off.

As Marinette was sketching, she got a knock on her door. “Marinette,” her mom said.

Marinette rapidly closed her sketchbook.“Come in,” Marinette replied.

Sabine opened the door. “Someone came by, and they wanted me to give you this.” She held up a note.

Marinette was confused. “Are...you sure?” Sabine nodded. “O..K…?” She took the note, and Sabine left.

Marinette opened it and it read “Marinette, I know I’m not the best with words, or feelings, but I wanted to say I’m sorry. I didn’t think you would actually steal something, but I was so blinded by outrage that I got caught up in the heat of everything going on. I got so angry for what turned out to be not really your fault, and that anger turned irrational. So, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for not sticking up for you, despite us being friends. I’m sorry for being blinded by rage and my own insecurities that I passed off on you. I’m sorry. -Alix.”

Marinette smiled. She figured Adrien might have had something to do with this, but she was happy all the same. “Thank you. Both of you.” She opened her sketchbook and continued. At the top, the concept was written out. “Outfits for Mine and Adrien’s first date once this whole Lila thing is settled.”