#I’m stupidly predictable darling please why do you do this to me

[h-harleybaby]

I know I hornypost a lot in the mornings and nights but at every other point in the day I get too embarrassed to so if any of my moots see “h-harleybaby liked this!” In that stupid green text and it’s a very questionable post I don’t wanna talk about it ever unless it’s my husband who I’ll let make fun of me

[itsallavengers]

im a slut for steve not thinking he deserves what he has/being afraid of losing it all again so uh yeah?

It wasn’t regular. 

Steve kept a lid on it, most times. Got on with his life. Tamped down the urge when it started getting bad and then waited for it to eventually dissipate. He’d used to have to do that frequently, in the beginning. It was better now though. But that didn’t mean it didn’t still happen. And before Tony, it had been... well, it hadn’t been easy to deal with, exactly- but at least no one had been around to see it. 

Now, when the bouts of fear came- when Steve couldn’t bring himself to lie down and shut his eyes, for fear of waking up lost once more- there was someone around to see him do it. And that made everything so much more difficult. 

Steve gritted his teeth and sat up slowly in bed, turning his head to look at Tony as the man slept soundly. His hair was stuck up in tufts from where Steve’s hands had been earlier that night, and dark purple marks trailed from his neck all the way down to his hips. He snored softly into the pillow and lit up the immediate area with a faint blue haze, and he was so achingly, easily beautiful that it made Steve wonder how he had ever ended up here. How Tony had ever picked him, of all the people in the world he could have chosen. 

Tony had fallen asleep an hour ago, supposedly at the same time as Steve, both of them curled together and evening out their breaths until unconsciousness had wrapped around them. By this point, though, Steve was excellent at pretending to go through all those motions while in actuality, his mind remained firmly awake, the terror refusing to let him rest. The man had no idea that Steve would not be sleeping tonight. Or possibly tomorrow. Maybe not even for the next week, if it got really bad. It had happened before.

He never knew how long the feeling would last. But sometimes, inexplicably, Steve would be hit with the conviction that if he fell asleep, he was going to disappear. Something was going to happen, and the next time he woke up, everything would be different once more. He would no longer be in bed with the man he loved, in a tower full of the people he considered family. He would have to start again, and again, and again, never dying, never living. Caught in a loop that began with unconsciousness.

So, on those nights, he didn’t sleep. Instead, he sat up in bed, stared at the wall, and thought of everything he had already left behind.

He knew it was ridiculous. Illogical. He wouldn’t magically travel in time just by sleeping, that was absurd. But whenever he attempted to lie down flat and shut his eyes, he felt cold. He felt like something was going to go horribly wrong. He couldn’t escape that feeling, and if he attempted to force his way through it, he would only end up giving himself a panic attack. 

It was pathetic and humiliating, and Steve just couldn’t stop it. So he’d resigned himself to having to deal with it on occasion. This was just what happened, some nights. 

It was the first time it had ever happened with Tony around, though. 

He looked down at the man as he slept, biting his lip and wishing that he could touch him. Feel the warmth of his skin, the gentle twitch of his pulse-points. He wished desperately to be calm enough to sleep, but couldn’t afford to wake Tony. If he wanted to be sensible, he should probably just leave. Go somewhere else to do this whole ridiculous song and dance. But-- but this was the ritual. This had been what he’d done, every time it happened. He’d sat up in bed, and he’d forced himself to resist the temptation of sleep. To stare at the wall and think of everything he’d already left behind. Like a confession of his sins to a dark, empty room. 

These days, the room wasn’t even dark any more. It was always bathed in blue light, alive with someone else’s presence. 

Someone else who seemed to be stirring, actually. 

“Steve?” Tony’s voice was reedy, a half-asleep whisper in the night as he rubbed his eye and looked up at the way Steve was sat rigid in bed. “Darling, are you okay?”

Fuck. 

“I’m fine,” he responded easily, extending a hand and running it through Tony’s thick hair. The man hummed happily. “Just go back to sleep.”

For a brief moment, it seemed Tony was almost willing to agree to that. But then he paused, shifted, and sat up a little further as he became more coherent. Tony didn’t say anything for a few moments, just looking at Steve’s face, pale and illuminated by the light of the arc reactor. “You had a nightmare?” Tony tried gently.

Steve shook his head. He couldn’t explain this. Tony would think he was insane. “No, it’s... just go back to sleep, okay? Please?”

Even as he said it, he knew this was a lost battle. Now Tony was sat up in earnest, the sheets pooling around his lap as he eyed Steve worriedly; observed the way he was leaning against the headboard, and clearly had been for some time. Like he was a sentry keeping guard. It was hard to keep anything at all from Tony. A man that smart knew what you’d had for breakfast from the power of deduction alone. 

“What are you waiting for?” Tony asked eventually, taking a punt and, as usual, getting it correct. The words hit Steve somewhere deep in his sternum, forcing the air out of his body and making him want to keel over, tuck himself away somewhere safe and untouched from everything else. 

What are you waiting for?

The ice. The wind in his face. The feeling of being awake and dead, and then only dead, and then only awake. Seeing faces and things and worlds that didn’t make sense. Losing Tony, his beautiful wonderful amazing Tony, in the same way that he’d lost everyone else. In a way that was irreversible. 

He shook his head once. “Nothing.” 

That, at least, was true. Nothingness was probably what scared him most. 

Tony was quiet, unmoving. Steve could see the thoughts as they raced through his head, narrowing things down, accounting different factors, trying to work out what Steve wouldn’t tell him. Steve wanted to tell him to stop. He didn’t want Tony to see him like this. 

But he was so, so tired. And a part of him... well. A part of him just wanted someone to tell him that it was going to be okay. That it was over. That he was here, and here was where he would stay. 

“Go back to sleep with me,” Tony said softly, his fingers settling lightly on Steve’s shoulder, before morphing into a firm palm sliding around the back of his neck. Grounding. With me, he said, like they were in this together. Which, logically, Steve supposed was true. They were in very close proximity, here. Were one to go, the other would follow.

He turned to Tony slowly, shutting his eyes at the delicious sensation of the man’s hand in his hair. His eyebrows were scruffy and had been rubbed the wrong way. It was cute. 

“What if I wake up somewhere different?” Steve blurted before he could even prevent himself, voice thin, edging on downright hysterical. He regretted the words as soon as he’d said them. Tony was going to think he was nuts. Tony was going to scoff at him, and Steve couldn’t even blame him. That was the most pathetic thing that’d ever come out of his mouth. He sounded like a child. 

“Well, at least this time you’ll have me,” Tony told him softly. Steve turned to him in surprise, only realising how much he was shaking when he felt Tony’s spare hand settle over his, the weight calming them. “Nothing can affect you without me knowing it, or experiencing it with you, right?”

“You don’t know that.”

“Maybe not. But if anyone ever tries to take you away from me, then I’m not gonna stop working until I get you back.” Tony’s face was earnest and true, not a hint of doubt or even nervousness about him. Maybe it was the later hour. Maybe it was showing on Steve’s that he couldn’t cope with doubt just then. Either way, Tony offered him up exactly what it was he needed, without even having to be asked. 

Steve loved him so much it hurt.

“I’m terrified, some nights,” he admitted, his voice lower than a whisper, only managing to travel to Tony’s ears before the sound faded and was lost to anyone else in the world. “So utterly, stupidly scared that when I sleep, I’m gonna-- I’m gonna go. Somewhere. Anywhere. I don’t know.” He looked down at his lap. “I would never in a million years have predicted I’d end up in the 21st century, back when I crashed that ship. Where am I gonna go next? How many more people am I gonna lose?” His breath hitched unevenly, and he felt his eyes start to sting. God, this was awful. He shook his head. “I can’t do it. I can’t. Not again. I’ll just-- I’ll stay awake until I get over it, until it passes, but I won’t sleep. No. No.”

Tony made a small, undefineable noise in front of him, and then Steve felt a pair of hands settled against his cheeks. Tony slowly lifted his face up, and then when Steve was looking at him, Tony just kissed him. A soft thing. A reassuring thing. 

He pulled back a fraction of an inch, thumbs stroking down Steve’s cheekbone. “Okay,” he murmured. “We’ll stay up. That’s alright.”

We?

Steve’s brow creased and he opened his mouth, but Tony was already shuffling, re-positioning himself on the bed until he was lying back into Steve’s chest, tucking the sheets around them and then laying his head back against Steve’s shoulder. When Steve looked down at him in surprise, Tony kissed him again. “Tell me your favourite colour?” He asked. 

The question was so inane that Steve was thrown out of it all for a second. He blinked. “Why is that... uh, it’s green.”

“Why?”

“Well, I- I guess it’s because it’s versatile,” Steve said, his voice still shaky as he thought it over. “It’s in plants and animals and people and stuff. It’s life.”

Tony smiled softly, mouth forming the word ‘life’ in a wordless repetition. “What’s your favourite animal?”

“Bears. Why are you asking me this?”

Tony just shrugged, taking Steve’s hand and then playing idly with his fingers. “When I wouldn’t leave the workshop for fear of someone kidnapping me again, Rhodey used to ask me all these dumb things,” he began quietly, concentration fixed upon the knuckles on Steve’s left hand. “Used to ask me so many of them I’d forget the fact that I was even scared. Filled my brain with so much useless drivel that I guess I just got distracted enough to quit panicking.” He huffed to himself quietly and rubbed at the reactor, an almost absent motion. “I haven’t ever told anyone that. It didn’t last long, to be fair. Only a few weeks. But still.”

Oh. Steve squeezed his waist softly and ducked a kiss against his temple, letting his mouth rest there for a second so that he could breathe Tony in. “It’s been ever since I woke up, for me,” he confessed, shaking his head minutely, “sometimes I can’t sleep for days. I just sit there and- and think.”

“I know.” Tony shifted slightly, drew himself further into Steve. “Has it ever happened while I’ve been here?”

“No. Just tonight.”

Tony nodded. Then, after another second: “Favourite dessert?”

Steve couldn’t help it; he chuckled quietly and tightened his arms around Tony, burying his head into the side of the man’s face. Tony was saying something about how Steve was contractually obligated to say apple pie to this question, and his hand was stroking repetitively across Steve’s arm in order to remind him he was still there, and Steve just loved him so much he thought he might drown in it. And not even in a way that terrified him. 

Tony asked him questions until 2:32 in the morning, when he fell asleep resting in Steve’s arms, face tucked into Steve’s neck. He hadn’t even meant to, Steve thought. One minute he’d been murmuring something, and the next he was conked out. He must have been exhausted. But he’d stayed awake as long as he could for Steve all the same. Just to ask him questions. 

Steve didn’t go to sleep that night. He wasn’t brave enough. But the jitters were gone, and the sadness had lifted, replaced only with Tony and his intoxicating presence. He was everywhere around Steve; in his arms, on his mind. It was impossible for him to worry about the man disappearing just then. 

And the next night, when Tony fell asleep once again tucked neatly into Steve’s chest, Steve found his eyes shutting too. 

Like he’d said. It wasn’t always regular. And now, with Tony, it was even easier to sleep without fear sharing the bed with him. 

Tony took up too much goddamn space for that. 

-

kofi // ao3

[jeserai]

keeping up appearances

for the @sherawintergiftexchange​ , i had @nbdoubletrouble​ who requested a high school au with head cheerleader catra and football captain adora—hope you like it

"The cheerleading captain always goes to prom with the football captain. And they always get crowned prom king and queen. It's gone on longer than I can remember. And this year, well...based on the way you and Adora were acting…"

"Watch out!"

Catra flinches and whips around at the loud call that comes from the football field. Someone's just kicked a ball and Catra finds herself frozen in place as it hurtles towards her, and—

Someone crashes into her, dragging her down with them. Though they've shielded her head with their hands, Catra's breath is still stolen from her with a grunt as she hits the ground hard. And then she looks up, and whatever air she'd managed to gain back leaves her again as she sees clear blue eyes and a gentle smile that belong to a familiar blonde. Adora. Of course it's her.

"Sorry, princess," Adora says. She's still smiling, though there is an edge of sheepishness in it that only pisses Catra off even more. "Kyle's got a good leg, but he hasn't quite managed how to control it, and—"

"Would you get off of me already?" Catra interrupts. She can practically already see Adora's wounded puppy pout and she shoves at Adora's shoulders until she rolls away. When Adora stands, she offers her hand out, and Catra pointedly ignores it as she stands on her own and dusts her cheer skirt off.

As Adora passes by without another glance, Catra watches with a scowl as two of her teammates come running up to her, likely congratulating her for her save.

God, she hates the football team.

"Ouch, darling, that was so harsh."

Catra's scowl only deepens as DT drapes their arm around her shoulder, and she easily shrugs them off without hesitating. "Shut up. Can we go home now? I've had a long day."

"I don't know, you looked pretty comfortable in Adora's arms for a second there, and who wouldn't want—" DT cuts themself off as they squint down at Catra, a frown slipping across their lips as they observe her. "What's wrong, kitten?"

"Don't call me that. Let's just go."

"You're no fun today. And so mean to Adora too...you're really going to break tradition, aren't you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Ah...I keep forgetting you don't care much about school spirit. Well..." DT steers Catra towards their car, taking their sweet time now that they know they've got Catra's attention. "The cheerleading captain always goes to prom with the football captain. And they always get crowned prom king and queen. It's gone on longer than I can remember. And this year, well...based on the way you and Adora were acting…"

"Why should I care about a stupid tradition?"

"Oh, I figured you wouldn't. Be up to the challenge, I mean. Wonder who Adora's going to go with...everyone loves her, don't you think?"

"Back up, what do you mean, I'm not up to the challenge?"

"Why, ki—Catra, getting Adora to go to prom with you!" Like always, DT opens the car door for her, and Catra slams it way harder than she has to to get her point across.

Once DT is seated, Catra glances at them sidelong, muttering, "I am not going to prom with her."

"Pity," DT sighs, "you two would've looked so gorgeous together."

"Flattery won't get you anywhere, you know." But—

They would look good together, and while Catra couldn't care less about some dumb school tradition, the prom crown…

"Oh, I like that smile. Whatever are you planning now, darling?"

Catra wipes the smile from her lips and turns to glare out the window as if that will wipe the smug smirk from DT's lips. After months of time spent with them, she knows that it won't. "Just drive."

_____

Today is Thursday, so Adora will be sitting with the rest of the football team for lunch. Back when they were still close, Catra used to hate that Adora was popular enough to sit with a different group every day. The fencing team on Mondays, the student council on Tuesdays, her princess pals on Wednesdays, the football team on Thursdays, and Fridays...well. Friday was their day up until the middle of sophomore year. Adora's seat had been left empty until the beginning of junior year, and now DT fills the spot across from Catra so easily that it only hurts a little to look up and see Adora sitting by herself, surrounded by textbooks as she studies.

But today isn't Friday. Today is Thursday, and Catra marches up to the football team's table halfway through lunch, cocking a hip and crossing her arms as she waits for them to notice her. One of the freshmen chokes on his drink as he sees her, and Catra bites the inside of her cheek to keep from grinning.

"Kyle, dude, you gotta—" And as Adora glances over, her smile freezes as she sees Catra standing there.

Only now does Catra let her own grin slip loose, and she waves at Adora, her heart pounding in her chest as she says, "Hey, Adora."

"Catra...what are you doing here?"

"Oh, don't be like that, can't I say hi to an old friend?" God, DT is rubbing off on her.

Adora still looks confused—and rightfully so—and Catra jerks her head at the guy sitting next to her. "Move."

Immediately, the whole row scoots down, and if any of them notice that poor Kyle gets pushed off the bench, none of them care. They're all watching, wide-eyed, as Catra slips into the spot next to Adora, and more than one wolf-whistle starts up as Catra leans her head on Adora's shoulder.

(She stays like that until the end of lunch.)

As the bell rings, Adora catches Catra's hand under the table and squeezes once. For a moment Catra is surprised that Adora remembered their childhood code, but...it's Adora. She squeezes twice back, and Adora breathes out a sigh of relief.

And when the last of the football team has left, Catra pulls herself away from Adora, cracking her neck as she waits for Adora to speak.

"Catra...what are you doing?"

She sounds...tired.

Catra purses her lips and looks at Adora, really looks, for the first time in what feels like years. She looks...good. She's ditched her age old ponytail for a messy bun, and despite the fresh bruise reddening her cheek, she looks. Really, really good.

"What happened here?" Catra reaches out to touch the bruise, and Adora catches her wrist easily.

"Catra, please. I'm really not in the mood—"

"Okay. Fine, god." And before she can lose her nerve, Catra blurts out, "I need you to date me."

As Adora opens her mouth to reply, the warning bell rings, and she shakes her head before standing up. “We can talk after your practice ends. I’ll pick you up.”

“Don’t you have practice too?”

“I cancelled it, a lot of the juniors have a big calculus test coming up. I try to be fair about that stuff if I can.” And that’s...nice. It’s so much like Adora that an unwilling smile tugs at the corners of Catra’s lips. Adora mirrors it, hesitant and genuine, and quietly, she says, “I’ll see you after practice, then?”

“Yeah. See you after practice.”

(They’re both late to class, but Catra can’t bring herself to mind. Not one bit.)

 _____

Catra is in the middle of leading stretches when she notices Adora.

The football captain is sitting in the bleachers, and though she has her laptop out, she’s paying attention to Catra’s girls. Some of the underclassmen are smiling and giggling, their attention fixed on Adora, and Catra rolls her eyes as she stands. “So what I’m hearing is that you all want to run more laps? Okay, ten laps, last man up.”

The smiles and giggles immediately stop, and though a few of the girls cast Catra dirty looks, everyone obediently lines up in groups of six. One of the freshmen raises her hand, and when Catra arches a brow at her, she quietly asks, “Isn’t that...a bit much?”

“If you can’t handle one person in the bleachers watching you practice without falling all over yourselves, do you really think you’ll be able to perform in front of the whole school? I know I definitely wouldn’t want to be a flyer for you with that level of concentration. So no, it is not too much. If you think it is, you can leave. The rest of you, start your laps.”

Predictably, everyone stays, and Catra falls into line without a backwards glance Adora’s way. And with Catra keeping a careful eye on the girls, the rest of practice goes off without a hitch. And if she dismisses them early with claims about making up for her behavior, well. No one has to know that she’s really just excited (or nervous?) to talk to Adora again.

Said girl comes bounding down the bleachers, leaning against the fence as Catra’s girls file off the field. She’s got that stupidly cocky grin on her lips as the last of the girls leave, and Catra pulls out her phone so she doesn’t have to watch Adora watching her as she approaches.

“Better look where you’re going if you don’t want a repeat of last time,” Adora calls out, and the clear mirth in her voice is enough to make Catra grin. Her anxiousness suddenly fades in the light of Adora’s familiar laughter, and as she follows Adora to her car, Catra can almost pretend that this is normal, that every day Adora picks her up and takes her home. That they never stopped talking at all.

And then they get to the car, and—”You kept that old thing?” Catra reaches out to touch the old, beat up plush toy that she vaguely remembers giving Adora when they were ten. It’s hanging from the rear-view mirror now, and it swings gently between them when she lets it go.

“Of course. You gave it to me.”

It’s so like Adora that Catra can’t even bring herself to retort. And as they drive down the familiar roads in silence, Catra realizes that this is...nice. Driving home with DT is often filled with their gossip, and fighting over whose playlist should be played, and good-natured arguments that end in spontaneous trips to get ice cream or McDonald’s or whatever else they’re craving.

But with Adora, the ride is quiet. Unlike Catra, Adora’s never been the type to study with music, and she guesses it’s the same when she drives as well. They would probably talk, if Adora hadn’t hurt her the way she did, but—

“You can turn on the radio if you want, Catra. I know you need your music.”

“And I know you need to focus, Adora. I’ll be fine without it. And where are we going anyway?”

“Ella’s.” Though Adora’s reply is short, she’s smiling, and Catra finds herself lost in all of the childhood memories too. They’d spent countless afternoons at the diner, tried out the whole menu so many times before. Catra still remembers their old orders: chicken tenders and french fries for herself, popcorn shrimp and veggies for Adora, a giant smoothie and flavored iced tea to share, and for dessert, a giant molten lava cake that they always happily split in two.

“I haven’t been there in ages…”

“I haven’t either. Or, I go to visit, but...I haven’t eaten there since…” Adora trails off, and as they come to a red light, she sighs. “It just isn’t the same without you, I guess.”

“Oh.”

Adora hums in agreement and Catra finds her gaze again drawn to the bruise marring her side profile. Before she can ask about it, Adora says in a much brighter tone, “They’ll be glad to see you! Ella always asks about you, and I never really know what to say.”

Again, Catra is left breathless.

 _____

“Adora!” Netossa calls out as they enter. The smile freezes on her face as she notices Catra standing half-hidden behind Adora, and with one brow raised, she asks, “And who is this stranger you’ve brought with you?”

“Oh, be nice,” Adora laughs, “where’s Ella?”

“Where else would she be? You go say hi to her while I talk to this one.”

Adora glances back at Catra, and while she does look concerned, she obediently makes her way into the kitchen in the back of the diner. Only after the door closes behind her does Netossa turn back to Catra, her hands on her hips as she stares for a long few moments. “Well? What are you doing here?”

“Nothing, I just needed to talk to Adora, and—”

“Why now?”

“God, what does it matter? Am I not allowed to talk to her?”

In a very quiet, very strained voice, Netossa says, “You hurt that girl when you left her. She spent months crying over you, and me and my wife spent even longer picking up the pieces of the mess you made of her heart. Do not hurt her again, Adora is the last person in the world that deserves that.”

Stunned to silence, Catra nods, her gaze wandering to Adora as she comes out of the kitchen with Ella at her side. She seems only a bit surprised to see Catra there, but she smiles warm and soft, and Catra mirrors it even if it comes out forced. Adora beckons and Catra follows her to their usual booth in the very back of the diner; even just sitting in their usual spots brings back a rush of nostalgia that makes Catra’s heart ache.

“God, it’s been...so long.”

“It has, hasn’t it?” Adora props her head up with her fist, staring at Catra like she’s a puzzle she can’t quite figure out. Catra feels her cheeks begin to burn with the intensity of Adora’s gaze, and she pulls a menu closer to herself, ducking her head to hopefully hide her blush as she looks at the menu without seeing it.

Adora laughs a little under her breath, nudging Catra’s foot with her own to get her attention. “Do you remember our tenth birthday dinner?"

"How could I forget that? You got whipped cream all over me!"

"You had fun though, didn't you?" Adora's got a smug smirk on her lips, and she leans back, crossing her arms as she stares Catra down.

"Until your germs got me sick the next day," Catra grumbles. But there's a grin tugging up the corners of her lips as she says it, and she finds herself mirroring Adora's posture without even thinking.

"Hey, you got better, it's fine."

Catra scoffs and shakes her head, twirling a curl around her finger as she looks, really looks at Adora. "It really has been a long time, hasn't it?"

"Yeah, I…" Adora cuts herself off as Netossa comes over holding two giant milkshake, one cookie dough and the other strawberry. Their favorites.

"Enjoy, you two."

"Thanks, we will!" And after giving Netossa a bright smile, Adora begins to carefully scoop out the chunks of fruit from the top of her milkshake. She hasn't changed at all, Catra realizes: the girl sitting in front of her now is the ten year old girl that sneezed whipped cream in her face, and the seven year old girl that made up a silent code to keep them both grounded. She is the fourteen year old girl that snuck into Catra’s room to hold her as she cried herself to sleep, and the twelve year old girl that pinky promised Catra that she’d never let anything bad happen to her.

Catra can’t believe that she let herself believe Adora for as long as she did.

“You’re not eating?” Adora asks, still focused on her milkshake. The top of it is now devoid of fruit, and Catra watches quietly as she starts on the mountain of whipped cream, suddenly exhausted.

“Why are you...being so nice to me?”

At that, Adora finally looks up, confusion written all over her face. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I hurt you.”

“You were hurting too,” Adora points out, “and that doesn’t excuse anything, but...I wanted to help you, I didn’t want to drive you away if I was one of the few good things you had. Even though I guess I kind of ended up doing that anyway, didn’t I?”

And. That should make Catra feel better, she knows it should, but all it does is make her even angrier. “You never helped me, Adora, not in any way that mattered. All you did was make it worse!”

“We were kids! I didn’t know what I was doing any more than you did! All I knew was that you didn’t look as sad when we were together, and that you flinched less when you were at my house, and that I knew I wanted to keep you smiling. I would’ve done anything to keep you safe, Catra.”

“Yeah, well. I’ve learned to protect myself, so you can stop feeling guilty. I don’t need you anymore, I never did.” And sure, there are still cracks in her heart, but she’s learning how to force herself to stop jumping every time someone tries to touch her, and she knows how to swallow all of the paranoia and rage back down. She doesn’t feel quite so alone anymore either, and maybe they’re not perfect either, but DT helps, even if they don’t know it. Most times, Catra gets the feeling that they do.

“Why are we here then? Why did you say that you need to date me?”

Catra winces and shakes her head. “Forget it, it was stupid—”

“Tell me.” There is an unspoken plea in Adora’s voice, and that tiny, foolish part of Catra has always bent to her every will and whim, so—

“Prom. It’s tradition for the cheer captain and the football captain to go together. I told you it’s stupid.”

“Tradition,” Adora snorts, “I never pegged you for one to follow tradition, especially if it’s as stupid as you supposedly think.”

“Yeah, well. I want the prom crown, that’s all.” That’s the only reason, Catra reminds herself, it’s not because she misses Adora or anything stupid like that.

As if reading her thoughts, Adora leans forward again, staring at her hard. “And why pick me out of everyone?”

“Told you, tradition. Do you want to do this or not?”

And she’s more than expecting Adora to say no, or maybe even just get up and leave, but—”Fine. I’ll do it. I guess that makes us girlfriends then.”

“Just until prom,” Catra adds, but the sudden rush of giddiness at the thought makes her have to bite the inside of her cheek hard to keep from grinning. She focuses her attention on her milkshake, and tries to ignore the way Adora is smiling, bright and genuine and so very smug all at once.

They finish their drinks in relative silence and as Adora gets up to pay, she tosses Catra her keys and tells her to warm up the car. If they were anywhere else, Catra would argue back, but she can still hear Netossa’s words echoing through her head, and she can practically see the disappointed look on Spinerella’s face, so she obediently slips passed Adora to start the car.

Adora slides into the driver’s seat only a few minutes later, pointedly turning on the radio (to Catra’s favorite station, at that) before starting the familiar drive home. A few times, she clears her throat like she’s about to speak, but she always closes her mouth with a tiny shake of her head before she manages to say anything.

On the third try, Adora finally blurts out, “Why don’t you answer my flashlight signals anymore?”

And—oh. Oh. “I don’t...live there anymore. Haven’t for a year.”

“Oh.”

The silence between them has never felt so loud, and Catra nervously plays with the hem of her shirt as she asks, “You still signal?”

Adora looks just as self-conscious as Catra feels, and her cheeks are a faint pink as she says, just as quietly, “Yeah, I...I never stopped.”

“Oh.”

_____ 

It starts raining during the next game after Catra and Adora talk. They don’t really talk in school, but they don’t ignore each other like they used to either. Now their relationship has bloomed into small smiles when they pass each other in the halls, and sitting together again at lunch when their gazes happen to meet, and a nod when they pass each other at the end of Catra’s practice and the beginning of Adora’s.

People have started to talk about their new relationship, and every day while they stretch, Catra’s girls try to get her to talk about Adora, but as soon as she threatens more laps, they shut up. Unfortunately, Catra knows that Adora’s teammates don’t do the same; but Adora doesn’t seem to mind that much by the way she just laughs and shoves them away from her.

It’s starting to rain now though, and Catra’s never been good with the rain, or the cold. She’s already shivering as she bounces on her toes, trying and failing to convince herself that it’s not as bad as it could be. Like with every game, she’s focused on running through all of their formations and cheers, so she doesn’t notice Adora coming up next to her until she gently nudges her.

“Hey.”

“Holy—what is it?”

“Just know that you’re bad with the cold,” Adora says as she shrugs out of her varsity jacket. She carefully places it around Catra’s shoulders before she can retort, and Adora looks so satisfied when she pulls back that Catra rolls her eyes.

But the jacket is warm, and Catra pulls it around herself more snugly, ignoring the giggles of her girls and the cheers that start up from the football team. Adora looks even more pleased with her work, her dimple winking out as she smiles big, and just because she can’t be outdone, Catra stands on her toes and kisses Adora’s cheek before she can think better of it.

“Go win your stupid game,” she mutters when she pulls back, very pointedly not looking at Adora. All she gets in return is Adora’s good-natured laugh before she jogs back the way she came.

(Catra keeps the jacket around her shoulders for as long as she can, even after the rain stops. And Adora wins the game. And after, as her teammates swarm her, Adora’s gaze remains locked on Catra, standing at the sidelines. Catra doesn’t think she’s ever seen Adora smile quite as big as she does when she sees that Catra is smiling too.)

_____ 

“So,” DT drawls, and before the words come out of their mouth, Catra knows what they’re going to say. “You still have Adora’s jacket, huh?”

“Shut up. It’s cold out, that’s all.”

DT just laughs and pushes themself off of the wall opposite the locker room. “Of course, kitten, that’s the only reason.” They must decide that teasing her isn’t worth it for once, because they then say, “Come on, let’s go home, I’m absolutely famished.”

“I’m actually...going out. With Adora.”

Catra’s never seen DT look more smug in the two years she’s known them. “Oh really now? What happened to hating her, kitten?”

“I don’t know, okay? And stop calling me that!”

“Fine, fine, I’ll be nice!” Their gaze shifts to something behind Catra, and their smile turns more sharklike than she’s ever seen. “And there she is now.”

And when Catra spins around, she sees that they’re right: Adora, alone and showered and changed, is coming towards them both. She waves and Catra elbows DT in the side before waving back. “Be nice,” she hisses.

Instead of listening to her, DT thrusts their hand out when Adora is close enough. “Adora, right? I’ve heard so much about you from my kitten, though—”

“Okay, that’s enough, we’re leaving now!” Catra bats DT’s hand away from Adora and twines their fingers together, dragging her down the empty hall as fast as she can.

Not to be outdone, DT calls out, “Have fun and come home soon, darling!”

Catra decides in that moment that she might just have to kill DT when she gets back.

Adora seems just as annoyed as Catra feels; she stays silent until they get to her car, and it isn’t until they’ve driven for a block that she says, “Kitten, huh?”

“Ugh,” Catra groans, “they won’t stop calling me kitten because they know how much I hate it.”

“I think it’s kind of cute,” and with a grin thrown her way, “kitten.”

A furious blush stains Catra’s cheeks, and she slumps down even further in her seat, trying. “Drive.”

Adora laughs, light and pretty, and as she obeys, Catra finds herself glad that Adora’s apparent irritation has faded. Somehow, even just the sound of her laughter and the thought of her happiness makes Catra feel just a little bit better too.

“Where to, princess?”

“We can see if there’s anything at the boutique by the library...it shouldn’t be as expensive since prom isn’t for a while.”

“Then that’ll be our first stop, kit—”

Catra practically lunges to turn the radio up enough to drown Adora out before she can finish saying it. Somehow, it doesn’t help.

_____ 

The boutique is as empty as Catra thought it would be: it is just them and a rather bored looking girl standing behind the register, and Catra turns to Adora after inspecting the rows of dresses for a long few moments.

"What color were you thinking?"

"Oh, I uh...figured you'd take care of that."

And right. Adora's always had the worst fashion sense.

"I think you'd look good in just about anything, but..." Catra holds up the skirt of a black dress, considering. "No, not black."

"Why not?"

"It just doesn't suit you. It'd look good, but we don't want good. When I get my crown, I can't just look good. So you can't either."

Adora snorts as Catra turns back to the dresses, but she doesn't offer any resistance, so Catra keeps moving down the line of dresses. "What about red?"

"Why red?"

"It's your favorite color, and uh...you just look good in red." When Catra glances over, she finds that Adora is looking away, blushing.

"Red, huh?" The varsity jacket that Catra has safely tucked into her duffle bag had been red. "You'd look good in red too."

Adora gets that smug look on her face again, and before she can speak, Catra picks a random dress off of the rack and thrusts it her way. "Here, go try this on."

"I thought we were wearing red?" She still sounds smug.

"Go try it on."

Adora laughs, but obediently makes her way into the first dressing room with the dress Catra blindly chose for her. While she changes, Catra carefully peruses the section of red dresses, and though nothing really jumps out at her, it's only because she knows what she likes, and—

"I don't really like it," Adora grumbles. And—no. The dress...isnt bad, but it isn't all that great either, at least on Adora. It's far too frilly, too much. Adora needs something sleek, something simple. Something like…

"There was something I passed earlier...here it is."

"What about you?" Adora grumbles as she takes it.

"I already know what looks good on me. You're the hard part, Adora. Now go put on the dress."

This time, Adora looks more skeptical, holding out the dress with both brows raised before she trudges back to the dressing room. "If this looks bad, I'll pick the next one."

Catra ignores her, focusing instead on the mannequin on display in the . Across the store is a mannequin on display, clad in a navy blue velvet suit, and—

"Excuse me," Catra calls out to the girl at the register. When she glances up from her phone, Catra asks, "Do you have this in red?"

As the girl heaves a sigh and gets up, Adora steps out of the dressing room, arms crossed over her chest. "I'm picking—"

"No, we're done here. That girl is getting your outfit."

"What outfit?"

"What the mannequin is wearing, but in red. I saw something before that'll be perfect for it, I just have to find it again."

"But—"

"Here's the suit," the girl from the register interrupts. "I hope it's the right size."

"Go," Catra says before Adora protests. With a roll of her eyes and a long sigh, Adora trudges back to the dressing room, and Catra goes back to the first row of dresses to find the one that had first caught her eye.

Her fingers catch it before her eyes do as they meet soft velvet, and as Catra pulls the dress off the rack, she just knows that this is the one.

Quickly, Catra heads to the dressing room next to Adora, slipping out of her clothes and into the dress. It somehow looks even better on her than it did when she held it up: a simple spaghetti strap with a deep v-neck. It is long and red and it hugs her body in all the right places but for the killer slit on the right side of the dress. 

It's perfect.

"Catra?" Adora calls out then.

"I'm in the room next to you, come in."

"In—are you sure?"

"I'm dressed, you dork. Come on, I need your opinion."

She can hear Adora grumbling as she enters her dressing room, but as Adora turns around and sees her, her eyes go wide and a flush comes back to her cheeks again.

And it's all types of romantic and all types of cliche, but the only thing that Adora manages to say is a quiet, "You look..."

She's still staring, and suddenly Catra feels self-conscious, stepping back in a futile attempt to widen the distance between Adora's honest, open gaze.

"You...you like it, then?"

Adora's gaze slowly, slowly crawls up the length of the dress, and she takes a step forward to close the distance between them again. "Catra, you look breathtaking."

Catra's heart skips a beat and then two at the awed sincerity in Adora's voice. Hesitantly, Adora reaches out, cupping Catra's cheek with her hand, and Catra realizes with a shock that Adora could kiss her right now if she wanted. And more than that, she wants Adora to kiss her.

But Adora just takes a shaky breath and tucks a lock of hair behind Catra's ear before pulling away.

"Do you like the suit?"

And honestly, Catra had almost forgotten, but—

Her eyes follow the dip of the delicate necklace Adora is wearing to the velvet blazer; it also has a deep v-neck and Catra frowns before reaching out to unbutton it, and. Adora squeaks in surprise but Catra ignores her because she is wearing a silk bralette beneath and below that is abs.

"This needs to stay open."

"But—" Adora crosses her arms, blushing furiously. And...she always has been pretty self-conscious about her body.

"I think it'll look better open, but if you're more comfortable with it staying closed, fine." Not much of Adora's skin is showing anyway; the pants are high waisted, and if she keeps even just the bottom button done, it should hide everything but the subtle curves of her chest. It'll look good. They'll look good.

"You know, we look good together." Adora gently turns Catra towards the mirror, standing beside her, and—yeah. They look like an actual couple.

Catra kind of likes it.

DT is just finishing straightening the last of Catra's hair when the doorbell rings. "Is that your Adora?"

Catra glances at the clock—8:30 on the dot—and nods. "Perfectly on time, that'll be her. Can you...?"

"Who says I'm ready?" DT huffs, but they obediently head downstairs to open the door for Adora as Catra finishes getting ready. All that's really left is her makeup—because as much as she loves them, there is no way she's ever letting DT get a mascara wand anywhere near her face again.

From her room, Catra can very faintly hear DT and Adora laughing, and the thought of them becoming friends is what makes her really hurry. Because it'd been bad enough with DT trying to get under Adora's skin, but with all Adora knows about Catra's childhood and what DT knows about her now? The very thought is enough to make Catra shudder as she slips on her shoes.

After one last glance in the mirror, Catra heads to the top of the stairs, her heart in her throat as she descends. Adora is in the middle of telling DT something, but as she spots Catra, her eyes go wide and she stops and stares.

There is endearment on DT's face and Adora looks nothing short of awestruck at the sight of her, and Catra's never felt more on display in her life.

It feels kind of nice, though.

"Well?" she asks, trying for nonchalant and failing miserably, "you sure do love to stare, you know." 

Adora offers Catra her hand, smiling wide when Catra takes it without protest. Her hand is calloused and warm and Catra has held it so, so many times before in her life, but she still cannot get used to how easy this feels again. "You look beautiful," Adora finally breathes out.

"Stunning, kitten," DT adds. They come close enough to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear, and though they don't say it, Catra knows how happy they are for her by the softness written all over their face.

"Thank you for everything," she whispers, and that, that is just for them.

DT nods, and then turns back to Adora, one brow raised. "You remember what I told you, right?"

Adora flushes pink but nods quickly, and before Catra can ask, DT steps back, grinning again. "Have fun then, you two!"

"You're not coming with?"

"No, I'll give you two lovebirds your privacy, you can thank me later. Now shoo, I need to finish getting ready."

After hugging DT one last time, Catra takes Adora's hand and follows her outside and to the car. They are both unusually silent; Catra can tell how nervous Adora is by the way her hands tremble on the steering wheel, and she covers one of Adora's hands with her own even though her own heart thuds fast in her chest.

"You don't have to be nervous, it's just me."

Adora huffs out a laugh, but she turns her hand over to lace their fingers together, her thumb rubbing against Catra's in gentle, idle circles. "That's why I'm nervous."

"Why?"

"These past eight months have been...amazing. I guess I just don't want that to end."

And even though she feels the same, Catra can't bring herself to say so. The car ride remains silent, and their hands remain linked.

By the time they get to the school, people are already beginning to dance, but before Adora can ask Catra to dance, some of her princess pals eagerly wave her over.

"Do you mind if I...?"

"No, go ahead." And sure, maybe Catra does mind, just a bit, but there is Entrapta by the snack table, and Scorpia is by her side, so no, she does not mind one bit that Adora immediately leaves her for her other friends. 

And now Scorpia is waving her over. Suddenly annoyed, Catra pretends she hasn't seen them and makes her way to an empty table, pulling out her phone and idly scrolling through it as she waits for Adora to come back.

Strangely, she doesn't feel as excited as she thought she would, especially with the crown so close, and as much as she hates to admit it, she agrees with Adora.

Because spending so much time with Adora again has been fun, especially once the fencing season ended. Things aren't like they used to be, but they are good now, and to think that this is the last night, well...

Catra wants to make the most of it. Maybe that's why she's so upset. Certainly not because—

Someone holds out a hand, and as Catra looks up, her heart stutters hard at the sight of Adora standing there, looking so serious for once. "Dance with me," she says, and it should be a question, but they both know what the answer will be. Catra takes Adora's hand, lets herself be pulled up, lets Adora lead her to the middle of the floor.

There isn't much room, not really, but the song is slow enough that Catra tucks her face into Adora's neck and breathes her in as Adora fits both arms around her waist, keeping her close. It feels more than enough to sway like this, to feel the warmth of Adora's hands and know that at least for tonight—

Before she can even let that thought play out, Catra pulls back just enough to look Adora in the eye as she blurts out, "You know, I don't even care if we get the stupid crown."

"Why?" And though she's got a perplexed little smile flirting with her lips, Adora still sounds so faithfully earnest that Catra flusters again, and she tucks her face back into her neck instead of answering.

She feels more than hears Adora's huff of laughter, and just when Catra thinks that Adora has dropped it, she steps back, holding Catra at arms length as she stares at her again. And then, very quietly, she says, "Hey, Catra?"

"Yeah?"

Before Adora even opens her mouth to speak, Catra knows that whatever she says next is going to big, is going to be important. And—"Will you be my girlfriend? But like...for real, this time."

Catra loses all the air in her lungs, and though Adora deserves an honest answer, it is all she can do to nod around the sudden lump in her throat. She feels moments away from tears, Adora swimming in her vision, but she's never been happier, and Adora looks the same.

Quieter now, and as shy as Catra's ever seen her, Adora again asks, "Hey, Catra?"

"Yeah?" And if her voice breaks on the word as a tear slips from her eye, well, no one has to know.

Adora gently cups Catra's cheek with her hand, very carefully wiping the tear away with her thumb. Even once it's gone, Adora's hand remains on Catra's cheek, and her voice is barely a whisper now. "Can I kiss you?"

Instead of answering, Catra leans up and kisses the trembling smile from Adora's lips.

And—yeah. This is much better than any crown could ever be.

[wolfpawn]

I Hate You, I Love You, Chapter 24

Chapter Summary -  Danielle and Tom have a dinner out with Diana, which is a pleasant affair until someone recognises Tom and paparazzi become involved.

Previous Chapter

Rating - Mature (some chapters contain smut)

Triggers - references to Tom Hiddleston’s work with the #MeToo Movement. That chapter will be tagged accordingly.

authors Note - I have been working on this for the last 3 years, it is currently 180+ chapters long.  This will be updated daily, so long as I can get time to do so, obviously.

tags: @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog  @jessibelle-nerdy-mum @nonsensicalobsessions @damalseer @hiddlesbitch1 @winterisakiller

If you wish to be tagged, please let me know.

The longer Danielle sat by his side, the more Tom wanted her to remain there. Diana, as expected, was heartbroken and happy for the girl she had seen slave through years of study and exams. “You are going to do brilliantly sweetheart, just like Tom.”

“Well, I will be staying very much behind the camera,” Danielle commented.

“I have an idea.” Tom declared. “I am taking you two lovely ladies out to dinner.”

“Wonderful.” Diana smiled.

Danielle looked uncertain. “What…if there are any…”

Tom swallowed, “With her gone, they don’t come around anymore, Suffolk is, once more, calm and quiet.”

“Well then, if you’re buying.” She smiled, earning the megawatt smile Tom had for when he was at his happiest. “So, where to?”

“Manzoni’s?” He suggested.

“Just because you have no mortgage, doesn’t mean you should take one out to eat in a stupidly overpriced restaurant.” Danielle looked him up and down.

“Come on, Elle, you deserve fine dining in celebration of your huge career change.” He urged.

“I can’t, seriously Tom, it’s too much.”

“Elle, I missed your birthday, I have been an unmitigated ass to you this year, and I really need to thank you for…well, that other thing, so please, please let me do this; I know how much you love their carbonara.”

“You know nothing Hiddleston.”

“Yes I do, Emma said you practically made sex noises at the table when you ate there before,” Tom whispered into her ear as soon as Diana left the room to get ready to go out. Danielle went puce red at his words, the deep timbre of his voice sending a shudder down her spine in a way that could be very much be accused of being sinful as she looked to the ground, not wanting him to see the embarrassment on her face. “Elle.” The manner in which he spoke her name caused her to gasp slightly. “Please.”

“I don’t know if I…” she looked at him, her eyes focusing on the icy blue and green specks of his. “I…” She forgot the art of speech for a moment, as his eyes focused back on hers. “Yes.”

His pupils widened fractionally and a glimmer of brightness added to them at her agreement. “Thank you.”

“I think I should get changed.”

“You look perfect as you are.”

“I don’t think I am to their dress code Tom, I am in my normal clothes.”

“I know, your River Island black jeans, your favourite t-shirt, your grey and black open cardigan and your, what appear to be yet another pair of Converse, how many pairs of black converse can one girl own?” He asked, his voice affectionate, his eyes not once leaving hers as he spoke.

“I just buy new of the same…you didn’t even look at my clothes there.”

“I looked at them when you opened your door.” He smiled.

“I…”

“Are we ready?” Diana came back into the room and froze as she realised the peculiar tension between her son and neighbour, both still sitting next to each other, and both staring into one another’s eyes.

Tom’s stare was the first to break; he turned to his mother and smiled. “Yes, we are. I just convinced Danielle to come, she was somewhat reluctant.” He rose to his feet, rubbing his hands off his pants as he did; glad they were dark enough to hide the sweatiness of his palms from his nerves at being so close to Danielle.

“I see.” Diana looked between them again, still paying attention to the tension that surrounded them. “Well, you can drive there, but I will drive home, my doctor said I shouldn’t mix alcohol with my medication.”

“What medication?” both demanded immediately in unison, their previous nervousness immediately dissolved.

“I had a small ear, nose and throat infection last week; I am on decongestants for it.” She dismissed.

“What ones?” Danielle asked.

“I can’t remember the name; they are made by that Pfizer company.”

“Yeah, no alcohol for you.” Danielle agreed, Tom listening to her and nodding.

“I was not aware paramedics are so up-to-date on pharmacy stuff.”

“Pharmacology? Yes, we need to know the ones that react badly together, and some react very badly, decongestants, plus alcohol equals a stoned effect and very bad issues with blood pressure, not a nice combo.” She explained to him.

“Well then, it’s settled, into the car you two.” Diana ushered them out the door of her house and towards Tom’s car. “Tom darling, your car is in the way, so we’ll take it.”

“Is there anyone not trying to drive my car?” He stated in exasperation, opening the passenger side door for his mother.

Danielle raised her hand. “I don’t.” Tom looked at her; there was some form of offence on his face as he did. “I would be terrified to drive it, sitting in it, however, well, that is another thing entirely.” She beamed as she got into the back seat. “Are these things heated?”

Tom closed the door on the passenger side before heading to the driving seat. “They are.”

“Fancy prick.” She grumbled under her breath. “Ow!” She yelped immediately after since Diana had reached back and pinched her leg.

“Mind how you speak of my wonderful son.” Diana chastised.

“Haha, Ow!” Tom went from chiding Danielle to yelping himself as Diana clipped the back of his head. “Mum.”

“And you, mind how you provoke my favourite neighbour, she is like a daughter to me.”

“Sorry, mum.” Both stated at the same time, causing Diana to glance between them and for both to erupt in giggles.

“Two five-year-olds, that’s what you are like.” Diana sighed, shaking her head.

“Tom started it,” Danielle stated lowly.

“Did not.” He retorted.

“Dear God, drive boy, before I lose my patience altogether,” Diana ordered.

*

The meal was a pleasant affair, and as Tom had predicted, Danielle had gone for the carbonara, and both having finished almost two bottles of wine between them.

“I regret the drinking.” Danielle groaned as Diana went to the bathroom. “Why did I drink fancy wine?” She held up the bottle. “I am going to kill you in the morning.”

“No one forced you to drink it, you’d think the food would have helped,” Tom commented. “Though it does seem quite strong.”

“Yep, look at that percentage.”

“Shit, I am not driving anywhere until after lunch.”

“Good plan, I don’t plan on getting up until after lunch.” Danielle declared.

“Better plan.” Tom commended.

Danielle pointed to her feet. “Down there’s for dancing.”

“What the hell does that even mean, you have been saying that since I met you, and I still haven’t figured it out. In fact, it was one of the first things you ever said in my presence.”

“It means we use our feet for dancing and our heads for thinking, obviously.” Danielle chuckled, as though it blatantly clear.

“Elle, thank you for coming out tonight, I am so happy for you.”

“Thanks.” Danielle smiled. “Thank you for helping me with telling your mum, and for the extortionately overpriced meal.”

“My pleasure Elle, I hope I can take you out in London some time, there are some great places there or LA.”

“Maybe.” She gave a small smile. “I am not exactly Hollywood.”

“Two Disney movies are fairly Hollywood.” He gave another grin back. “How is Paul about all of this, shouldn’t you spend time with him when you’re home?”

“Paul is in Africa at the moment. He goes for a couple of weeks every other year as part of a Doctors Without Borders thing. He won’t be back for at least another fortnight.”

“That’s noble of him.”

Danielle nodded. “Yes, it is.” There was a proud smile on her face that caused Tom’s stomach to sink. “So what’s next for you, movie star?”

“Well, thankfully Ragnarok is over, so I am waiting to see if there needs to be any reshoots, then I have a few more ad campaigns to shoot too.” He began.

“Are you home for Christmas?”

“Definitely, you?”

“Four days.”

“Yikes.” He gave a small grimace. “Need a lift from the airport?”

“Isn’t that usually my line?” She smiled back.

Tom chuckled. “Usually, yeah.” Danielle bit her bottom lip as she smiled. “Elle…” she glanced back at him, taking Tom’s breath away.

“We have a small issue.” Diana declared quietly as she came back to them. “You’ve been spotted, darling.” She informed Tom.

“Shit.” Tom leant back. “I’m sorry Elle.” He rose from the chair. “Walk out the door with mum, and walk to the car, I’ll see you there.”

Not entirely sure what to do, Danielle just nodded and got to her feet. “Darling,” she looked to Diana, “Just ignore them and pretend they are not there.”

As Danielle walked out of the restaurant, she realised that was far easier said than done; as a camera flashed at her time and again, the bright light of which blinding her. From what she had seen beforehand, it was only three men, but it felt as though fireworks were erupting around her over and over as they shouted random questions at her and Diana.

“Mrs Hiddleston, did you really approve of Taylor, or was that all part of the act?”

“Mrs Hiddleston, does this girl meet your approval?”

“Are you the girl Tom left Taylor for?”

“Did Tom cheat on Taylor with you?”

“Are you the obsessed paramedic?”

Danielle swallowed hard, her heart pounding in her chest at what they were saying. “Gentlemen, please.” Relief filled her as Tom’s voice from behind them.

“Tom, are you worried about what Taylor will write and sing about you in her next album?”

“Who is the girl Tom, did you leave Taylor for her?”

“I am just having dinner with family, nothing of note, so please, let us enjoy our evening,” Tom asked politely.

“Taylor is saying you cheated on her, what have you to say to that Tom? Is this the girl you cheated with?”

“She is nothing to do with any of this, she is just a friend.”

Danielle just kept walking, passed Tom’s car, and passed the side of the street, her paces fast, and her head down. She thought she heard Tom calling her back, but she kept going, arms tucked in around her. To her relief, the photographers seemed more interested in following the celebrity and not her, so she walked along, sobering up as she went.

She made her way to the taxi depot not too far from the restaurant and asked for a cab, doing everything in her power to not show how upset she was. When she got to her house, she cursed, she had no idea where her purse was, her house keys, phone and money were inside.

A mixture of relief and dread filled her when Tom came out of his mother’s driveway, her purse in hand. He ran straight to the driver’s window and handed him fifty pounds. “Keep the change.” He smiled at the thrilled man before running to Danielle’s door and opening it for her. “Elle.” She took her purse from his hand and walked to her door. “I’m sorry Elle.”

“It wasn’t your fault.” She stated, not looking at him.

“Elle please, look at me.” He begged, following her to her door. “They say that stuff to get a reaction.”

“I gave them none.” She answered coolly.

“Are you mad at me?”

“Why would I be, you did nothing wrong, you brought me for a nice dinner, you came out to try and get them away.”

“Then I don’t understand.”

The words ‘She’s just a friend’ repeated in Danielle’s head. It had never hurt her as deeply before, she knew she would never be anything other than that to him, but Tom physically saying the words hurt. “I just need to get some rest; the wine did me no favours.”

“Why didn’t you come home with us?”

“I wouldn’t have appeared as ‘just a friend’ if I went home with you, would I? That would have added fuel to the fire.”

“Elle, I…I had to say that, they would hound you otherwise.”

“What do you mean ‘had to say that’ that’s all we are, isn’t it? I mean, we’re friends, nothing else, it wasn’t a lie.” she snapped.

Tom felt as though he had taken a kick to the gut. “I…”

“What Tom? What? We’re friends, nothing else; you are the big movie star with blonde, statuesque starlets at your beck and call. Of course they got curious when they saw you with me, I’m nothing like that, I’m no one, the idea that after being with one of the most wealthy and renowned women in the music industry to well, short, plain and anonymous, they must have thought you were having a sort of breakdown.”

“Elle…you’re…”

“Nothing, I’m faceless, and I’m actually okay with that.” her tone was becoming more high pitched as she became more upset.

“You are not ‘nothing’,” Tom argued. “You’re brilliant.”

“Tom.”

“No, you are brave, strong, independent, perfect.” Tom came up close to her, his chest almost against hers. “Elle, you are so much more than what you think you are.” He tucked a few loose strands of her hair behind her ear. “Why can’t you see that?”

“Tom…” she was about to argue with him when Tom leant forward and pressed his lips to hers, silencing her.

For a few moments, Danielle’s mind short-circuited, leaving her silently staring at him, as he tried to deepen the kiss, she reacted in kind, enjoying the feeling of his strong lips against hers, the smell of his cologne filling her nostrils, sending her stomach in a knot with anxious excitement. But when his hand came to her cheek, and he sighed in contentment; she came to her senses. “Tom.”

“Elle.” His voice ghosted against her lips.

“We can’t.”

“Why not?” he groaned when she pulled back from him.

“Tom, you need to leave.”

“Elle.”

“Please.” She swallowed hard, her voice breaking, “Please leave.”

“Elle.”

“Please, Tom.” There was no disguising the upset in her voice.

Heartbroken, Tom nodded and turned from her doorstep, looking at her again when he had taken a few paces. “I’m sorry Elle, I shouldn’t have…and Paul.”

Danielle said nothing with regards to her breakup with the doctor; she only nodded before turning the key in the door and walking inside, closing it behind her and allowing her heartbreak to take over at her pushing away Tom. It had been a mistake on his behalf, surely. She had no idea why he had done it, but she was not what he looked for in a woman, and she knew it. She would never be good enough for him, and she needed to accept that.

[lecrit]

I’ve been awake for the past two hours and I couldn’t go back to sleep so I did a thing. Brace yourselves.

Malec AU where Magnus’ high school reunion is coming up and he doesn't want to go because he broke up with his latest boyfriend Imasu just a couple of months ago and everyone knows these events are made so you can throw your success and happiness in the face of people who have no impact left in your life whatsoever. Magnus knows his high school on-and-off-again girlfriend Camille will be there, parading with her stupid football player husband. And yeah, his professional life is going great, thank you very much, but Camille is a snake and if she detects the slightest weakness, she’s going in for the kill.

When he talks about it with his friend and colleague Isabelle, she tells him to ask her brother to go with him. He’s *cough* single *cough* and he and Magnus get along great. Plus, she knows Alec has pretty much been in love with Magnus since the dawn of time (meaning since they met each other a year ago at Isabelle’s annual Halloween party - Alec had made an effort and actually let Isabelle put some kind of skeleton makeup on his face while Magnus had gone all in with a Freddie Mercury costume) because how could one see Magnus Babe and not fall in love at once?

So Magnus lets himself be convinced by Isabelle and asks Alec. He doesn’t need much more than Magnus’ word that he won’t have to dance and that they can just stay in a corner and try to guess what people are lying about to make themselves look better to agree to go.(Although it’s Magnus so the chances of Alec saying no were infinitesimal anyway.)

Alec does ask Magnus why he doesn’t take one of the 17 000 models on his contact list instead because surely that’s bound to make Camille seethe more than taking someone as plain as him?

Magnus just lifts an eyebrow, murmurs something under his breath about buying Alec a mirror for Christmas and that’s the end of that.

They go as friends, because pretending to be dating would be weird, but... well, if people assume they're dating, what's the harm in that? It’s not like they owe anyone a clarification.

The party is going well. Magnus is doing good on his promise. They’re not dancing, and they talked to a few of Magnus’ old classmates (that are not Raphael or Ragnor or Catarina) and Alec only had to resist the urge to roll his eyes at them a couple of times so it’s pretty good considering his low tolerance on bullshit.

That (impressive) accomplishment is forgotten the moment Camille walks up to them, arm hooked with her token husband’s. Her smirk is just feral when they stop in front of Magnus and Alec, her eyes scrutinized them (mostly Magnus, Alec notices, gritting his teeth) like they’re a prey she can’t wait to feast on.

Magnus plays the game just as well as she does, though, and they chat for a minute before Camille’s what’s-his-name husband walks away to fetch her a drink and her whole demeanor changes. She takes a step forward, reaching down so that her fingers brush with Magnus’ and Alec just stands there, dumbfounded that she would have the nerve when 1) her husband literally is in the same room and walked away ten seconds ago and 2) Alec is literally standing right there and everyone they met tonight assumed they were dating and neither Magnus nor Alec bothered to correct them because they figured it added to Magnus’ “my life is better than yours” thing.

But Camille doesn’t seem to care and a lazy but languid smirk tugs at her lips as she purrs about how they should catch up soon, and there’s no doubt about what she means exactly by that.

So Alec does the only coherent thing (or so his brain seems to think) and blurts out, “hey babe, wanna dance?” while grabbing Magnus’ hand and blowing holes into Camille’s skull with his eyes.

No dancing was his number one condition but Magnus didn’t seem to know what to do and Alec might have been a little tiny super small bit jealous so he takes no responsibility for the words that came out of his mouth. Magnus nods, a smirk pulling the corner of his lips up.

“Oh, so we’re dancing now,” Magnus murmurs teasingly as he lets Alec guide him to the makeshift dance floor, before channeling his best Alec voice. “I’ll go to your stupid prom but I won’t dance, Magnus, not even if it’s a life or death situation. I don’t care.”

“Just put your hands on my waist and shut up,” Alec grumbles.

“Back to Magnus, uh? Shame.”

Alec blushes and clears his throat. He steps on Magnus’ foot and no matter what Magnus can think, it is 100% accidental.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, ducking his head to stare at their feet. “I-I just... can’t dance. Never liked proms.”

Magnus snorts, if only to hide how much he wants to kiss that stupidly adorable man right then. “For the millionth time, darling, this is not a prom. And that’s okay, I’m sure you spent your prom making out with your gorgeous date while you waited to be crowned king.”

Alec frowns, shaking his head. “I didn’t go to my prom. I hate balls. Or anything remotely resembling. So I never went to one."

Magnus‘ eyes widens as he stares at him, shock written plainly on his features. "What?!"

Alec shrugs. "I knew I would have to go alone or with either my baby sister or brother, and how lame would that have been? Plus, it’s not like there was anyone who caught my interest in high school."

Magnus gasps dramatically this time. “Does that mean you didn’t do all the fun rule-breaking stuff you’re supposed to do with your crush in high school?” he asks, not unkindly. “Like sneak into tiny janitor’s closets or behind the benches during physical education to actually practice physical education instead?”

"No. I went to school to learn stuff and get good grades,” Alec deadpans. "And I was captain of the football team and the debate club so I didn’t have time for that."

“That’s just unacceptable, Alexander,” Magnus heaves out, shaking his head exaggeratedly. “You need some bad influence in your life. Someone’s gotta stray you away from the good path. I volunteer as tribute. It’s a hardship but someone’s gotta do it.”

Alec snorts, rolling his eyes, and is about to reply when he spots Camille storming off their way.

“Did you have a hiding spot to avoid the wrath of a pissed off teacher?” he asks, biting on his bottom lip. “Because we might need it right about now.”

Magnus glances over his shoulder to see Camille slither her way through dancing couples to get to them.

“What did you do?”

Alec puts on his best innocent face. “I may or may not have texted Ragnor about what happened earlier and he may or may not have taken the opportunity of being at the bar at the same time as her dumb husband to let it slip that she tried to get into your pants. Oops.”

Magnus stifles a laugh and tries to throw him a scowling glare but fails epically. So when he spots Camille approaching dangerously from the corner of his eye, he grabs Alec’s hand instead and leads him out of the room and into his high school corridors.

They run out of there, giggling, and Magnus feels like a teenager again, and the way his stomach is fluttering at the feeling of Alec’s palm against his own is just one of the reasons why.

He takes Alec to the gym, where he knows a perfect spot beneath the benches where he used to sneak to skip class and smoke a cigarette. Except Magnus wasn’t quite as tall, or his shoulders quite as broad, when he was a teenager and Alec is taller and pretty well-built himself so the space they have to share ends up being small enough that personal space becomes a foreign notion.

Alec doesn’t seem to mind, a wide grin splitting his face as they catch their breaths. He stares at Magnus for a while, blinking, before he looks away to survey their surroundings.

"So... you and your friends came here to smoke?" he asks, pointing a finger at the cigarettes butts on the ground. Those things never change.

“Among other things,” Magnus retorts with a teasing smirk.

“Like what?"

And Magnus just throws him a pointed look, because he knows Alec is innocent when it comes to breaking rules and typical teenagerness but... “Really, Alexander?”

And Alec throws him back the exact same look. “Yeah, really,” he huffs out,something flickering in his eyes that Magnus can’t possibly miss with how close they’re standing. “Are you gonna kiss me or what?”

So Magnus does just that, chuckling while he leans in. And it definitely feels like being a teenager again - with much more skill and chill (who is he kidding? He loses all chill as soon as Alec nips at his bottom lip when Magnus grips his hair just a bit too hard.)

And when Magnus is very comfortably settled between Alec's legs, one hand flat against the burning skin of his back while the other works on unbuttoning his shirt, someone coughs and they jump apart, cheeks flushed and panting.

Alec almost has a heart attack.

Ragnor is leaning against the wall a few feet away from them, arms crossed nonchalantly.

"Really, Magnus? A thousand years have passed and you're still hooking up with pretty boys under the benches? Predictable."

Magnus glares at him, but makes no move to entangle their bodies.

“Really, Ragnor? A thousand years have passed and you’re still making a point of ruining my life? Predictable.”

Ragnor smirks, sipping his beer and just turns to walk away. “We’re going to the Hunter’s Moon so we can hang out with people we actually like and that we’ve seen somewhere other than our Facebook feed in the past ten years,” he calls over his shoulder. “We’ll wait for you guys in the lobby. Please be wearing clothes.”

Magnus shows him one particular finger and turns back to Alec, who has gone utterly quiet. His cheeks are bright red with embarrassment and he’s chewing on his bottom lip, his tongue darting out every now and then as if he can still taste Magnus.

“Alexander?” Magnus calls out softly, his fingers gliding in his hair at the back of his head.

Alec hums, blinking out of his stupor as he glances back at Magnus.

“You’re not... having regrets, are you?”

Alec seems positively offended. “How could I—“ but he doesn’t finish, shaking his head. “I was just thinking that this place smells and is kinda gross and it really sucks as far as first dates go so maybe we could actually go out properly some day soon? Like grab dinner and maybe catch a movie?”

Magnus smiles. “I’d love that.”

“Good.” Alec smiles back. “Great.”

And they just stand there for a while, still tightly pressed to each other, until Magnus clears his throat, jerking his head toward the exit. “We should go. They’re waiting for us.”

Alec hums, eyes riveted on Magnus’ lips. “But what if Camille is still in the corridors looking for us?”

The corner of Magnus’ lips turn into a smirk, and he makes a show of craning his neck. “You’re right, I think I just heard her,” he lies.

Alec nods, licking his lips. “We should wait five more minutes. For safety, of course.”

Magnus nods back. “For safety. But that doesn’t mean we have to be bored while we wait for the threat to go away. Any idea on how to spend this time?”

“A few,” Alec replies in a breath, and kisses him again.

Fin.