#I was already debating for several months before everything went to shit

[adxmanial]

the death of Twitter has brought me peace tbh

[meatriarch]

me when i say Fuck It to gun's timeline because two weeks is just Not Enough Time in my eyes to properly hold a missing person search throughout several counties and give them time to actually yknow. search ( which we know is already debatable but at least long enough to make it seem like they "tried" yknow? ) before calling it all off.

( which also this does not have to be adopted by anyone else - im just rambling and all but i do believe two weeks is just. not enough time at all- )

maria left for that last trip just before the uni of texas' spring break started. which typically seems to land somewhere between early-mid march (8th-16th). meaning she disappeared in that week.

( im inclined to say maybe within the first 3-4 days of her leaving is when she was taken, probably after she'd been driving most of the first and stopping at random to take photos. also inclined to say she left earlier than break actually started due to how any places she probably wanted to get to ).

her car was discovered abandoned - which could have easily been moved to a different location than where she actually went missing. and that could have taken any number of days to have been reported to local sheriffs after being called in by someone passing by, and which wouldve taken longer to look into before making that house call to her family and announcing her being missing ( esp considering its the 70s so...things were much slower to be processed, searches to be formed took longer to find enough bodies to look, etc ).

so im thinking im pondering im perceiving this roughly :

beginning of march: - maria leaves 2-3 days before spring break actually started. - by the time break is underway, she's made it to her initial few planned stops but is taken, her car hidden briefly, to be gone through. mid-march: - by the time spring break ends and classes resumes, maria never returned to her apartment or campus. - friends probably assumed she'd gotten sick maybe or something went on back home. - her car is discovered that week being back from break, found someplace else, and family is notified. - police start the investigation and search for her once confirmed she hasnt been in contact with anyone back home since those first couple days being gone. - that first-72-hours of easily finding a missing person window now out the door which makes them less concerned of finding her alive. that coupled with the sawyer/hewitt influence around the different departments? they seem less eager to do their jobs, they appear to be avoiding sending search parties at all to look around a certain region. end of march thru april: - when ana catches winds of talks of them suspending the search by the start of april when no leads have been found i think is when she actually leaves their hometown to go find the friends, see if they know anything, come up with a plan to go searching for themselves. - danny told everything and he speed-demons back from his trade schools' training by the coast. - the friends start scouring every place they can think of that maria could have gone to - both that she'd been to before, and where she'd mentioned to them she had planned to stop at or drive past during this trip ( which i imagine must've taken them yknow. a while to do. cause i'd assume they wanted to be thorough since the police weren't. ) - they keep meeting dead ends with every place they go to til they reach newt, and ultimately come across drayton, luda, etc etc. ( insert teehee forbidden knowledge )

¯\_(ツ)_/¯ like give it at least a little over a month to give shit time to unfold and grow more frustrating and confusing yknow? give it time for hopelessness to settle in to make that excitement of hearing from the scattered hewitt-sawyer family members of some possible leads refill them with the hope that maybe they've finally caught onto something!! that she was seen, that shes nearby maybe!!!

[noonegetsleftbehind]

i debated saying anything, or talking about this at all. i know it's super personal and a very touchy subject and one that a lot of people shy away from or even hide. it's frowned upon to talk about and, for some, i know it's triggering to see it talked about it, but i kept thinking of one thing....

so, if seeing or discussing this is triggering to you? i understand. i get it. look away and don't click the readmore if discussing heavy mental illness topics and struggles/mentions of self-harm and suicide are something that you cannot handle. that is so valid and you need to keep yourself safe. skip this post and read the next and know i love you.

please understand that i am not looking for pity or for judgment. i am simply being transparent and real. i am advocating for mental health and for others that may be struggling too.

i will not go into much detail on what my bad news was. just know that it means another very crushing blow to my already non-existent self-worth and our financial status. it was such a crushing blow that it pushed me off an edge i had barely been hanging onto from months worth of physical health issues (christ i have had 3 surgeries since december and been in and out of the hospital.) it's been hard. it's been real hard and this was something i had put a ton of fucking work into and fought like hell for for over a year all for... nothing. all to be de-humanized and be forced to question what my worth at all is anymore or why i'm even here or why i should bother to keep going at all.

i won't lie. it got dark. it's still dark. i'm still struggling. it caused me to spiral into a near catatonic dissociation. i spent all day in bed crying before i just sat staring and out of it. all my brain could even think of was how much i wished i was dead. it's still there. i still question why i'm here, but i'm getting to the part where that gets a little bit better.

this is not a new fight to me. it's not. i had a complete, ugly mental breakdown in feb of 2020. jesus, february is a shitty month for me historically. i broke while at work - my job that i thought was going to be the career of my life and at the time i was going to college to further my study in. too much stress and too many years of masking and pushing everything away and ignoring...things i hadn't even realized i was doing.... and it was like someone had built a fucking damn around niagra falls. everything came rushing out all at once. these are things i am still trying to even begin to process. and when you snap, find yourself under a desk screaming and crying and trying to claw at your face at work? you don't come back from that. you don't get to stay at that job. my dreams and plans for the future washed away that night.

i didn't give up then. i went into intensive outpatient after several hours in a ward. i spent nearly 4 months in near daily several hours therapy and this was in the heart of the pandemic. it was at this time that i started attempting to finally transition. in the midst of everything, i was denied hrt for health reasons which only set off my shitty feelings and body image more. i closed myself back off and went non-binary again and convinced myself i didn't fucking deserve to live my life as the right goddamn gender and i needed to just accept and live life as a cis-woman. spoiler alert? that shit doesn't work. it will eat you alive.

i attempted to get jobs again. i had a seasonal job that i lost in jan of 2021. i got another job that i was placed in while working with a state vocational program. that one worked out well. it wasn't a fancy or great job by any means, but it was one i could do and could make money from. my boss was nice and i found parts of it interesting, but can you guess where this is going? my health popped back up. first i broke the scar tissue in my right hand where i had carpal tunnel surgery in 2020. then i got a concussion. then, out of nowhere, i started getting violently ill and was in and out of the ER like 4 times in 2 weeks for the worst pain i have ever felt. basically? my gallbladder went to fucking shit. i had to have it removed. in order to do that? they made me quit my job and come back when i was cleared post op to lift again.

i went back to the job. it didn't last long until a mishap with the pharmacy caused me to be off my meds for 5 days. this caused me to have a black out episode where i have no idea how i got there or why i was doing it but i was in the bathroom cutting myself. again. another trip to the psych er. they corrected the med issue and i got to go home. the takeaway from this? please please please please do NOT fuck around with your meds. don't just stop taking them. it's dangerous as shit. take care of yourselves.

i was fine for about a month until more stresses started to come back at me one after the other. they were piling up and i was breaking more and more. i admit it. i have next to none stress tolerance. i can't deal with change, especially sudden and a lot. i can't deal with blow after blow. i literally cannot process it or cope. it sucks and it sounds like i'm just being dramatic or a baby, but i mentally and physically just... can't. it's debilitating.

i found myself walking back home from a doctor's appointment and my ideations were running rampant. the next thing i knew, i started to make a move to walk into traffic. luckily, my brain pulled me back out of it and i damn near ran the fuck back home to tell my wife i was not okay and i needed to go to the er. this time? landed me in a full week of inpatient stay. that entire ordeal caused even more ptsd than i already have. it was traumatic as fuck and took me MONTHS of working with my therapist weekly on to even begin to process. it sucks, it does, but the mental health system is broken as fuck. a place like that should have been helpful and healing to me in a time like that, but it was anything but. it just kept me alive and i suppose that was part of the point and good enough.

by the time i was released, i had lost my job. they didn't even fire me to my face. just told my wife. the end of that year was... not good. nor was the beginning of 2022. i took the opportunity to go ahead and get my other wrist operated on for carpal tunnel and got both elbows (cubital tunnel) done in january and march of 2022 as well.

it was around this time-ish last year that my body image issues started to tank. my dysphoria was so bad i wouldn't even look in a mirror. i hated myself. everything about myself. the body i saw was not me and and i could not continue long that way. i met who became my closest friend and ally in this time. with his help and support.... i fought to fully transition. I literally do not know where I would be without him and I hope he knows that and how much he means to me. i came out publicly and socially completely and in july i finally got to start T. i am just over 7 months in and in may i have my consult for top. i'm getting there.

you would think this would mean i was finally happy and things should be good, right? while i am on a journey that has been a lifetime in the making and am changing daily and week to week closer to my true self? it's a very slow and long process. especially in a time like now when the rights of trans and lgbtqia+ people are constantly being threatened and challenged. it's scary and it's a struggle daily to be who i am. there are a lot of challenges that come with this and it is not an easy road and anyone who thinks we just up and choose to be this way can eat shit and fuck right off. nobody would choose this kind of pain and struggle.

to top that off... in case all of this wasn't clear? i have a giant list of things diagnosed and wrong with me. cptsd, ptsd, mood disorder, severe treatment resistant depression, anxiety disorder, borderline, gender dysphoria, panic attacks etc. these are things that don't just disappear. it means i still go to weekly therapy. it means i keep having to adjust to and come off meds and start new ones etc. it is a constant trial and error and a constant fight to keep going and be able to be better and just be okay. some days i'm fine and some days i'm not. sometimes i can be fine one moment and not the next. this is the nature of the beast.

so that brings us to now. once again... too many stresses.... too many blows one right after another snapped me. i broke and this time the difference is i knew it. i could feel it happening and see all the signs. the positive light here? in recognizing this, i knew i needed to fight like hell. i needed to get help. i knew i couldn't do this by myself. i can't keep going like this. so, i took the steps necessary yesterday to get in touch with my therapist and the location that handled my inpatient stay to get an assessment. this was so fucking hard to do because you run the risk of them saying you need to go inpatient. i took the risk because i knew i couldn't do this alone. bad things would happen.

so, that brings me to where we're at now. after being discussed with the psych on call, my assessment was recommended i do partial hospitalization. php is basically as intensive and the same thing as inpatient except you get to go home at the end of the day. this is the best possible outcome for me. i am scared shitless and it's a huge change and my social anxiety and ptsd for being back in the facility are through the fucking roof. i start monday. i'll be there monday-saturday 8am-3pm basically for 2-4 weeks. after that time, i will more than likely be moved into intensive outpatient for another 4-8 weeks. but you know what? i'm committed. i want to learn. i want to get better. i want the fucking help. it's not going to cure me, but it can damn well help me. that's all i want. (it's also breaking my heart that i now have to miss my best friend's wedding because i can't get out of the hospitalization. once i'm in, i'm in. it breaks me and i know he understands, but i wanted to be there for him and with him and it was important to me, but this can't be helped and i know that. it still hurts.)

so... that's my story. that's where i am. every day is a struggle, but right now... the struggle is damn near impossible. it is excruciating and it is draining of almost all of my emotional/mental/physical spoons/capacity. it makes daily life hard to even get through the day, it makes talking with people like i normally do extremely hard and it makes having enough brain power to be on here and get to anything substantial a crapshoot. some moments i can do it and have a lot of muse and feel the need to distract and writing has always been my favorite coping tool. but i just can't guarantee. i can't make promises about my activity and i hope that's understood and okay at this point. just know i WANT to be here. just know i am TRYING.

again... let me reiterate that i am not looking for pity in all of this. i'm not. honestly? i hope this HELPS at least one of you. i hope it shows you that sometimes it is okay to not be okay. it sucks, but it doesn't make you broken, even when it sure as fuck feels like you are. i hope it inspires someone to get help. i hope it makes someone remember to take their meds. i hope it lets someone know they are NOT alone. i hope it reminds someone to check in on a friend/love one. i hope it nudges someone to come out and be themselves and fight for who and what they are. why do you think i resonate with chris so much? why i love him so much? he fights. he never fucking gives up. no matter what. he grits his teeth together and he fights for himself and everyone he cares about.

"No one gets left behind. Not on my watch."

be kind to yourselves. know that you can always talk to me if you need to. if i have the spoons i will be here to listen and help if i can. know you are not alone. and most importantly?

remember that everyone behind one of these blogs that you're writing with or following... everyone on the street you see... we're all fighting our own invisible battles. you never know what someone is going through. you never know the struggle they're hiding. be kind to people, especially your fellow RPers. respect each other. lift each other up. befriend and love each other. nourish each other's creativity and hobby. stop fucking being so quick to break each other down.

mental illness is just as valid as physical illness.... you just can't SEE it. it's time to start treating it that way. it's time to stop looking down on people for what you don't understand. be glad you fucking don't if you haven't had to experience this shit then you're lucky. listen. be kind. learn. advocate.

Love, J

[songbirdsingingthings]

Makeshift Heating Pad - Shouto Todoroki x Reader

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of these characters, they belong to Kohei Horikoshi

MHA Masterlist - Main Masterlist

A/N: So I had this one in storage for a little bit to ‘save for a rainy day’ and all that jazz, and because I’m having to do a little bit more research than normal for a request I received (don’t worry dear anon, I haven’t forgotten about you!) I didn’t want to have a serious lull in posting stuff. So, everybody, welcome to the chat this bad boy.

Warnings: Mentions of periods (menstrual cycle), Shouto being the best bf on earth.

Word Count: 1.4K

When that time of the month came around, you knew exactly what to do. You even went as far as to having an app on your phone that cataloged when you would get your period; giving you notifications the week before and then the day before. So, when that little notification bubble popped up before you went to bed, you should’ve remembered to take a painkiller, take an anti-nausea supplement, and use a feminine product, right? Oh, how unfortunately wrong you were. Normally you were very attentive, but when you were in the arms of your ever so doting boyfriend, sometimes logic flew out of the window as you were nestled in his soothing embrace. What a rude awakening it was in the very early hours of the next morning.

With a jabbing pain to your lower stomach, you shot out of bed, unfortunately knocking Shouto’s jaw in the process that had previously been resting on the crown of your head.

“...Sorry” you muster, using your hands to press down harshly on your stomach, trying everything in your power to smush down the pain.

“S’okay… are you okay?” Shouto’s sleepy and raspy voice provided some comfort to your pain as he rubbed a calming hand up and down your shoulder. With another stab of pain, you gasped. All you could do in response is shake your head. While you had some suspicion as to what was going on, Shouto didn’t have a clue. He tried to run through any events that happened recently. Did someone accidentally hit you too hard in that spot during hero training yesterday? Did you eat something bad last night? Is one of your muscles contracting out of nowhere? Unbeknownst to him, his last thought was entirely accurate as your cramps continued to subject your body to awful pain. “Would you like some painkillers? Would that help?” With a quick nod from you, he gently helped you move back to rest on the headboard of your bed, trying to make you as comfortable as possible. That’s when he saw the large patch of red that starkly contrasted the swan-like white of your sheets. He sucked in a breath, his eyes stuck on deep scarlet, which caused you to flick your eyes to what Shouto was so shocked at. That was when a harsh truth laid itself upon you.

“Shit…” you whisper, your jaws clenched and your eyes squinting in pain and embarrassment as you look at your period-stained sheets that you, just a second ago, were sharing with your boyfriend. “Sho, I’m so sor-”

“Here, let me help you up so you can go shower,” His soft, velvety words cut through your worried and panicked ones, offering you his hand for you to take. Your mouth formed a small smile as your eyes watered a bit, taking his hand and letting him walk you over to the little bathroom in your dorm. What U.A. provided wasn’t much, just a small little sink, toilet, and the skinniest shower known to man-kind, but it was enough for you to appreciate the privacy it provided. Walking to a communal shower with red-stained pajama shorts wasn’t in your top 10 things to do with your dorm life. The curtain was flipped back and the warm water was turned on for you by Shouto, who was currently fluffing out a towel for you to use.

“Thank you, Shouto, but you didn’t have to do all this,” you say, your voice thankful and entirely gracious. Heterochromatic eyes flicked over to you and the smallest smile quirked in the process.

“It’s the least I can do. I’ll leave you to undress and I’ll be back with clean sheets, okay?” With a nod and a simper, you let Shouto close the door behind him. You took your top, shorts, and undergarments off easily, but you let yourself mourn your underwear for a bit. Another cute pair lost to the ever hungry void of your menstrual period. 

The warm water did wonders to soothe the backache and headache that were both severely prominent to you, and the lavender shampoo, conditioner, and body wash left you feeling rejuvenated and fresh, but still tired. Wrapping the blanket that Shouto left out for you around your body and grabbing a few feminine products, you changed into the fresh set of comfort wear that he had slipped under the door for you and wrapped your hair up in the towel. Finally, you let the bathroom door swing open to reveal a freshly made bed, a painkiller next to a glass of water, and Shouto, who was holding a little grocery bag filled with extra period products and your favorite candy. You almost collapsed out of sheer happiness right then and there, but figured that Shouto’s efforts would’ve gone to waste, so you crawled over to your bed. The blankets and duvet felt cloud-like as your clean body slipped underneath them, causing you to let out a sigh of content.

“Comfy?” Shouto asks you, sliding in next to you and situating you in between his legs, your back resting on his torso.

“Very. Thank you so much-” And, once again, you lurched forward in pain. While back aches and headaches could disappear with a quick splash in warm water, menstrual cramps were a much different story. Quickly, Shouto maneuvers himself so that he could reach the glass of water and the painkiller, putting them gently in your hands.

“I’m sorry you’re in so much pain,” He says sadly, brushing your hair behind your shoulders so that it was out of your pained face. You shake your head and smile sadly.

“It’s okay, Sho, it’s kinda my fault for not preparing better for this. Usually I’m pretty good at knowing when this kind of stuff is going to happen. I must’ve forgotten to check my phone last night. You sucked in another breath as a second wave of pain washed over you, causing your fists to clench harder, your knuckles turning white.

“Is there anything I can do?” He murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to the pulse point behind your ear, nuzzling his head into the crook of your shoulder.

“Hmm…” You think for a moment, your mind circling to a suggestion that you have debated every single time you got your period. Shouto was a wonderful boyfriend - he was caring, kind, and a capable student, and you didn’t mean to be superficial, but his quirk and looks were also pretty high up in your mind. And, while his quirk was good for fighting and deterring villains, it also had much more practical uses. Like, for instance, using his left hand as a makeshift heating pad for your stomach. So, since he was already so comfortable with you as his girlfriend, you decided to just ask. “Well…” you began, drawing Shouto’s interest immediately. “You could, theoretically, use your hand as a heating pad for my stomach.” With your suggestion voiced into the air, all you had to do was await your boyfriend’s response. You squinted your eyes, a little scared of what his reaction would be, but you were pleasantly surprised when your shirt was being lifted a bit and a hand slid to rest on your stomach.

“Tell me if it’s too warm.” He says simply, letting his hand heat up. Now, you’ve used heating pads before and they worked to an extent, but they could not even pretend to compare to Shouto’s hand. It calmed your cramps almost instantly as he gently massaged the area, working the heat that was emitting from his fingertips just below your belly button so that he could try to relieve you of your pain. You hum in delight as you sink further back into his chest, laying your head on his shoulder.

“Thank you for everything.” You murmur, pressing a kiss into the material of his shirt. “Thank you for my sheets, and for the treats, and for being just the freaking best.” As drowsiness starts to take over your mind - a definite side effect of a source of heat warming you up - a sleepy smile spread across your face.

“It’s no problem at all, Y/N. But, if you don’t mind, can I see the app on your phone that tracks it?”

“What? Why?” You ask, genuinely curious.

“Oh, well, I just figured since you're my girlfriend I should know when your menstrual cycle occurs so that I can help make your experience a little easier.

“Like I said,” you say, moving a hand to his cheek and bringing him down for a sweet, tender kiss, “you’re just the freaking best.”

[embrassemoi]

Surrounded by the Moon and Stars ✷ 34

Pairings: Sirius B, F!Reader, Remus L    Warnings: DARK THEMES, heavily implied domestic abuse (the Black family) A/n: I’m editing this in a restaurant rn. Nobody can say that I’m not committed! Anyway, if there’s more errors than usual, it’s bc I’m on mobile. Sorry!

【 Masterlist | Previous Chapter | ao3 】

Chapter 34: Secrets of Our Souls

━━━━━━━━━༻✩༺━━━━━━━━━

Meet me at our place at midnight. Be careful. Make sure nobody follows you.  R.A.B

Y/N read the letter several times before folding it in half while her eyes glazed the crowd of students in the Great Hall in search of Regulus.

A no-show.

Since the start of the term, she’d been trying to get hold of Regulus but her attempts were futile. He was as finicky as a shadow, never staying still long enough for her to grasp, to spot.

Everything about his inconspicuous disappearance and the peculiar letter left her deeply unnerved. He'd even gone as far as using a different owl to respond to her letters; not the usual Black family owl.

In many ways, Regulus was mysterious; highly unusual — dare she say frightening.

“Oh!” Marlene exclaimed. “A secret admirer?”

“Give it back!” Y/N said indignantly as Marlene pried the letter from her hand, unfolding it. Before she could read the contents, Y/N nearly tackled it out of her grasp, snatching it back while Marlene pouted. “It’s private.”

Continuing to sulk, Dorcas smiled at Marlene. From between the sliver of space from under the wooden table and their bodies, she watched as Dorcas held Marlene’s hand; thumb grazing over her knuckles. Y/N eyed them questioningly.

“What are you not telling us?” Dorcas mused, leaning on the table with a sly smirk.

Marlene snapped her fingers. “Oi! Ginger snaps!”

Lily peered over, smile vanishing, placing her fork down. “Did you just call me a…?”

“Would you prefer traffic cone then?” Mary teased.

“I like Carrots more.” Dorcas added, shyly.

“Anyway, you two are pretty much attached,” Marlene said. Had she known better, she would have recognized Marlene’s tone for jealousy. "Who sent that letter?”

Lily shrugged but her face turned downwards at her uncomfortable body language. “She said it’s private. Leave it.”

The conversation ended at that.

Y/N felt a little nudge under the table and as she looked up, Lily’s head was tilted, conveying the silent question, ‘are you okay?’ She didn’t answer as a couple of first years bounced up to Marlene, tugging down on her sleeve. She turned to them, flicking her blond hair out of her face with a wide smile.

One first year was close to tears, another one standing on their tippy-toes to whisper something in her ear.

“Please can you come to the common room? It’s scary and I-I miss my dad!” One of the first years cried out.

Marlene cooed, hugging them lovingly. With a nod, she stood and pressed a kiss to the side of Dorcas’ cheek. She managed to make it seem like she was whispering in her ear before turning back to the group. “See you tossers later!”

Dorcas watched Marlene walk away. First years jumping, hanging off of her while Dorcas’ fingers grazed the spot on her face where she kissed her. She dazzled radiantly.

Before midnight, Y/N left her dorm, heading to the Marauder’s room and knocked on their door. She vaguely heard footsteps approaching before it opened.

She smiled before she could even register it. “Moony.”

He grinned widely. “Whiskers,” Remus said pleasantly, leaning against the door frame, his hair falling slightly over his eyes. “How may I help you?”

“Seeing you has already helped a lot.” She joked while Remus blushed madly. She laughed at his reaction. “I need to talk to Bambi.”

Remus had his eyebrows raised but opened the door wide and beckoned her in.

She noticed a bed pushed far to the left, isolated from the other beds. The curtains were almost nearly closed aside from the sliver that was still open. Black was there, book in hand with a few pieces of parchment laid surrounding him. He was already looking up at her.

They truly isolated Black from them in every way possible.

“Oh hey, Y/N.” Peter smiled before throwing her a small wrapped sweet her way. “Greetings!”

“Thanks, Pete!” She caught it. And dropped onto James’ bed. His glasses were strewn, laying on his bedside table as he flicked through his book.

“To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“Do you mind if I borrow your invisibility cloak tonight?”

James surprisingly didn’t push further as he simply went through his trunk and threw her the cloak, only asking that she would be careful with it.

She hopped out of the room, rushing out to the cold corridors and threw the cloak over her head. As she passed through various hallways, she finally opened the door to her and Regulus’ small hideout. A couple of candles were lit and the familiar Slytherin and Gryffindor blankets clashed together.

Huddled in the corner of the room on the couch, small and curled with his legs pressed against his chest and chin perched on his knees, Regulus was there, shaking.

She rushed up to him, keeping her hand visible and only touching him when he realized it was her. Consoling people was always a challenge in itself.

“What happened?”

Regulus’ voice was strained and tired. “C-can you hug me? Please?”

Her heart could have shattered as she roped him into a large, crushing hug. His aching sobs crashed through her chest. Y/N’s arms were tight around Regulus, his head face pressed against her shoulder and she could feel his tears seep through her shirt. Doing the best she could, she soothed him, petting his hair.

She couldn’t tell just how much time had passed until Regulus’ snuffles calmed down as he harshly wiped his tears. It was the first time she was able to truly get a close-up of how he looked.

To put it lightly, Regulus looked like shit.

Any of that regal, youthful glow of his diminished. And she realized it only faded whenever he went home. His skin was dull and grey, eyes sunken. Even his long hair was cut lopsidedly.

“Do you want to talk about it?” She asked.

“I… It’s…” Regulus trailed off, face full of worry and trouble. “It’s…”

“It’s okay,” she rubbed her hand up and down his shoulder. “You don’t have to tell me.”

But something caught her eye. Regulus’ trousers rode up in his shaking state. A large bandage was wrapped messily on his leg. The skin around the bandage was red and a few scars peaked out. But as soon as she realized, he had too and quickly pulled the fabric down.

“... What is that?” She asked softly. She didn’t know what it was, but something heavy sunk in her chest — the feeling of sickening, frightening dread.

He refused to answer.

“You have to get that checked out —”

“No!” Regulus shouted, complete panic filtering through his face.

“Whatever that is, it isn’t going to heal properly if we don’t.”

Regulus debated for a while and she saw the conflict on his face before relenting. “I’m embarrassed by it…”

She mustered up any kind of energy left and smiled. “I won’t judge you.” She managed to catch his eye and held it. She went over her options quickly.

1. Leave Regulus?

Option one was already tossed out the window. The weight of the situation was far too grave to continue to let it slide by again and again.

2. Press further?

But how?

3. Make him feel comfortable?

Bingo.

If he was ashamed by his scars, then maybe if she showed hers…

She turned to Regulus, lifting her sleeve. A scar ran across her forearm from Snape’s attack during the Quidditch match.

“I got this a couple of months ago in a nasty fight.” Then she pointed to the small scar on her leg from when she was dragged by Moony. "I got this from an accident."

But then, she sucked in a deep breath, mustering up all her bravery and courage, pushing down every bit of insecurity. She tugged down the collar of her shirt a bit, just enough to reveal the top of a much more faded scar that travelled down to her sternum. “And I got this from a heart surgery.”

She fixed her shirt to sit properly again. “I was born with a heart defect. It went undetected until my mom found me, hardly breathing and had to perform open-heart surgery on me. I was supposed to die but here I am. Healthy and alive and I haven’t had a problem since.”

Regulus looked up at her wide-eyed and his body became less stiff.

“I used to be so… ashamed of it. Maybe I still am, I never talk about it… Only you, my mom and someone at Ilvermorny knows. But my point is, I am more than my scars, and you are too.”

She swallowed her fear, now cursing herself and resolved to shut up. Waiting, she wondered that since she showed him the scars that perhaps he would too.

Regulus considered her, almost astonished, finally moving to pull up his trousers and peeling off his bandage, wincing while doing so.

It felt like a cold bucket of water was splashed all over her body. She desperately tried to keep her face blank as the overwhelming urge to cry while combating the wave of nausea hit her.

His skin was butchered — fiery red. They weren’t neat, like what a surgeon's scalpel would be like, but messy, crisscrossed and viciously deep. It had hardly healed and they were old enough to be a little over a week or two old. And undoubtedly painful.

Whoever did that to him was enraged, furious.

“Shit… Regulus… who did this?” She asked quietly, more to herself than him as he remained silent. She stood, commanding, “We need to get you fixed up.”

“It’s not that b —”

“Stop lying.”

“Just don’t take me to the hospital wing.”

Wanting to know more, she was too afraid that any more prying would result in Regulus completely shutting down and withholding more information. Instead, she picked up the invisibility cloak, threw it over him and wrapped an arm underneath Regulus' arms to help him walk out of the room.

She went to the only other place she knew she would be able to offer any resemblance of help.

Once reaching the Potions classroom, muttering Alohomora, Y/N helped Regulus sit down comfortably at one of the extra tables and immediately got to work. All sorts of magic went around as she grabbed an extra textbook and flipped to the Essence of Dittany page.

Shelves, jars and cabinets opened and closed on their own accord, all taking ingredients as they fell into a boiling cauldron.

“What are you doing?” Regulus questioned, nervously drumming his fingers on the table.

“Making you something.”

It was still between them. She didn’t know what to say, only what to do. Everything went through her mind like a step-by-step process, like a robot categorizing its own emotions.

Because what was the right response to something like this?

She stared at the bubbling cauldron, slowly stirring to avoid eye contact. “You don’t have to tell me but… you didn’t do this to yourself —”

“No,” Regulus said, calmly and steadily.

“Then… to the person — people who did… will they bother you again?”

“Probably not… I’ll be okay.”

It wasn’t the answer she was hoping for.

Once the potion was completed, she poured it inside an applicator and made sure to cast a quick cleaning spell. A soft blue glow emitted around his leg until disappearing. She looked up to him, fisting his shirt and shoved it inside his mouth. “I’m sorry, this is going to hurt.”

She took the applicator, pouring a couple drops onto his wound. A greenish smoke billowed around them as it bubbled on his skin. The skin was stitching itself back together and over his wound. Regulus moaned in pain, fist banging on the wooden table.

She finally pulled the cloth from his mouth once down and ran across the room to find more clean clothes to dab off the sweat from his face. Y/N thought for a second he was going to faint.

“I’m so sorry Reg… Sorry…”

He didn’t say anything for a while, only nodding in response meanwhile she monitored his condition. She gave him the wrapped candy that Peter gave her, hoping that it would help him regain some energy. She was beginning to grow worried that she might’ve brewed it incorrectly as her mind mulled over possible counter potions.

“I know… you said... you don’t talk to my brother much…” Regulus croaked out. She closed the book, rushing up to him. “But... you are in the same friend group… right?”

She chewed the inside of her cheek. A white lie wouldn’t hurt.

“Things changed. We’re friends. Why?”

There was a long pause. “Is he okay?”

A million questions went through her. Even if they were estranged, wouldn’t he know?

“He’s okay.” Lie. “He’s just been… stressed as of late.” True.

“Is he still staying with the Potter’s?”

“Yes.”

He smiled, eyelids drooping but everything about it told her something wasn’t right. “I’m glad.”

Regulus refused to let her help him walk back to the dungeons and left with his wound almost fully healed. And she was left with more questions than any answers as she slithered into bed.

What was he not telling her?

But then she thought about the summer with Matthew. Why had he been so surprised that she had been with a member of the Black family? Or how did he even know them? What was it about them that commanded so much respect and international recognition?

A couple of footsteps padded her way and Y/N felt her bed dip, a weight sliding beside her.

“Are you okay?” Lily whispered. “Been worried about you these past couple of days.”

“Yeah,” Y/N said, turning to the side to look at Lily through the night. “Jolly.”

“You sure? It can be our secret?”

She remained quiet and it gave Lily her answer. She turned onto her side before mumbling. “Feel free to stay tonight.” When she didn’t feel Lily leave, but she wiggled around to become comfortable, she sighed, forcing herself to sleep.

There was certainly far too much happening in her life at the moment for her to fully care about Lily’s bizarre and avoidant behaviour. She just wanted the next day to come.

━━━━━━━━━༻✩༺━━━━━━━━━

The next few days were uncomfortable and Y/N was beyond exhausted.

Breakfast was nothing more than her sipping on a glass of water, studying the Slytherin table, worried for Regulus.

Was he being bullied? Was he… no… the wound was a bit too old for it to have taken place at Hogwarts.

She spent most of the day in the library, simply reviewing her Herbology and Advanced Potions textbook.

Much to James’ dismay, all the free periods they had in sixth year were due to the overwhelming work and increased difficulty in lessons. Fortunately for Y/N, Potions was partially a free class and she never had to worry about it aside from the essays. It was far too easy.

During class, she would figure out new techniques, tricks, but to her dismay, Slughorn had really enjoyed how both she and Snape performed together and often paired them up during potions. She hated to admit it, but there was a reason why Snape was a favourite student of Slughorn. He had talent. Although, he was in a permanently vindictive mood around her which made him even more unbearable.

The tip of her eagle-feather quill moved across the pages of the textbook and she pulled back momentarily to review her book.

Nightshade… Powdered silver… Stewed Mandrakes… Slughorn had said it helped werewolves… What if Remus —

“Whiskers! There you are!” James said, strutting up. He sat down on the couch beside her, both tucked away in the corner of the library.

She gave a little wave of her fingers before closing her book. James suddenly became slightly dejected at her reaction. She couldn’t force herself to put on a show.

“Something wrong?”

Y/N felt like there were no answers to everything that had been happening recently. Only if Matthew was there.

But James was.

“I need to ask you something.”

His head swivelled around to see if anyone with prying ears was listening in before nodding.

“Could you tell me about the Black family?”

She had never seen James go so rigid. His cheek hallowed as he chewed the inside of his cheek and waited for her to elaborate.

“I know I don’t talk about it but Regulus is a friend of mine.” She didn’t miss the way James stiffened further at that. “And he’s… worrying me. He’s… god, I don’t know what to say.”

James threw up a silencing spell, encircling them. “It’s okay, go on.”

“Regulus’ leg was butchered. I think he’s being bullied or it’s darker than that.”

James’ skin, which was usually a warm, rich look, seemed as if it paled, almost giving him a gray appearance. “Did he say anything about his family?”

“No. But he never talks about them. Is that the reason why Black stays with you?”

“Even with the non-existent respect I have for Black, I feel like I can’t tell you much,” James said and she understood why. “But the Black family — they’re fucking insane. Their Pureblood mania is probably one of the worst I’ve ever seen.” James took a moment to look at her reaction after mentioning blood purity. “He has a reason to be scared of them.”

“So you’re telling me that his family… they hurt him?”

James looked down, the gravity of their conversation finally hitting him. He took off his round glasses, rubbing his temples. “I’m not sure. Maybe? It was probably another Slytherin. His parents… love him — I don’t see them laying a hand on him. He didn’t mention running away? Did he?”

“No.”

She heard James curse under his breath as he grabbed his hair out of habit. “I’ll talk to him.”

“About what? You can’t tell him I told you, he’ll —”

“Relax. I won’t. I’ll ask him to move in with me.”

Y/N felt like she could faint there and then. Everything in her body felt wobbly, weak as she grappled with the idea of Regulus and his home life. Then Black… did he also go through what Regulus has been through? The thought made her sick.

James’ voice tugged her back to reality. “Promise me something.” She waited for him to continue.

“I know Regulus is your friend and that he’s going through a rough time but…” James struggled with his words. “But… be careful around him. He’s not much of a threat but his family is. There’s a reason why Black lives with me; no matter how angry, how much I hate him, I would never let him go back there. To them.

“The war is approaching and they have eyes all on Regulus — watching everything he does.”

Goosebumps covered her entire body. Everything James said sounded more like an underlying threat of sorts. She wondered if that was the reason why he refused to be seen with her publicly. “Are you saying that he’s a Death Eater?”

“No,” James responded briskly. “But it’s not to say his parents won’t force him to. If you knew his family, you would understand —”

Both students snapped their heads up from the figure slowly approaching them as James eased off the silencing charm.

Professor Elway was there, holding a large leather-bound book and a stack of parchment, most likely essays she had to grade. She only gave a small nod to James before smiling widely at Y/N which caused James to mutter something vaguely familiar that sounded like ‘favouritism.’

“Ms. L/N! How wonderful to see you!” Elway was enlivened. “I was just thinking about you.”

“Oh! Erm — thank you?”

Elway laughed, “Your work has been incredible! I’m very impressed.”

She felt James nudge her under the table.

“Oh!” The professor exclaimed. “There’s a Duelling club session tonight I’m supervising. I’d love to see you there?”

“I’m sorry, but we have a paper due in Transfigurations.” James helped, cutting in for her. She felt herself relax into her chair.

In no time, Defence Against the Dark Arts became Y/N’s favourite class and duelling was incredibly fun, but all she wanted to do was sleep. Perhaps another time…

Professor Elway gave a little sigh but nodded her head. “Then I’ll see you next session! Have a good day, Ms. L/N and Mr..?”

“Potter.”

“My apologies, Mr. Potter. Have a fine day!”

While they watched her leave, both students were left with a similar deep, icy trepidation that clawed at their soul and a single question heavy in their hearts.

━━━━━━━━━༻✩༺━━━━━━━━━

【 Next Chapter 】

© gotkindabored 2021. Do not repost, translate or modify

[sophiamcdougall]

So, there’s something I think is missing from the Booker Discourse and the focus on anger vs forgiveness, and whether Booker’s “punishment” is too harsh and who’s responsible if so, and its absence is beginning to slightly disturb me and it’s this: They don’t punish Booker. At all. 

No, really.

It’s one of the things I really like about the film -- how compassionately it treats Booker, both on a narrative and on an inter-character level. In most genre films wrongs against the good guys are usually settled with riproaring vengeance, even if in some the hero conveniently gets not to be the one to enact it directly.  But in the moment Booker’s betrayal becomes clear, character beats we have taken for mere melancholy click into place as heartwrenching grief and suicidal depression. We’re encouraged to grieve for him. We see Andy and Nile’s empathy for him. We see Nicky urging Joe to stop shouting at him even before they yet have any hope of escape. We don’t see a  moment of explicit compassion/restraint from Joe, but he does instantly put aside his anger to accept Andy’s decision that Booker’s coming with them, and does nothing to sabotage that choice. (In fact, it’s unthinkable that he would, but in plenty of action films it wouldn’t be.) And I agree with some of the arguments I’ve recently seen – the intensity of Joe’s fury isn’t necessarily a measure of how long it would last.

And then, as I say, they don’t punish him.

They don’t beat him up. They don’t work off steam killing and re-killing him. They don’t leave him for Kosak, or for the police. Of course they’d never do a full Quynh on him but putting him a box for ... a year? Six months? A week? It would be an option. They don’t do that, either.   

They simply stop hanging out with him. And they have the extraordinary grace to promise this won’t be permanent. And Andy, whom he shot in the back, sees him off with a goodbye hug.

I’m seeing a lot of debate about whether Joe (hotheaded, passionate) vs Nicky (still waters run deep) is The Angry One and which one of them might, by contrast, have been totally fine letting Booker back into the group immediately. I think you can plausibly headcanon the first part of that various ways. Personally I think Nicky would take a more severe line than Joe, although, as I’m about to argue, I don’t think that necessarily has to mean he’s “angrier”.)

What I don’t think you can plausibly headcanon is that either would actually be “fine” taking Booker back immediately, or any time soon.

Now I want to preface this with pointing out that anger is a completely natural and appropriate response to being hurt and whoever is The Angry One out of Nicky and Joe, has every right to that feeling. And to be fair I don’t think that’s really being disputed. But there does seem to be the idea that The Situation  – Anger = Everything’s Fine Now! And I do think it’s slightly ... victim-blamey, like the barrier to HEA isn’t what Booker did, it’s how long the people he hurt retain one specific emotion about it.  Whoever’s angriest is being staggeringly generous to Booker, and the result is 100% compatible with their not being “angry” at all. It’s compatible with “forgiveness” having already taken place. Just for a minute imagine writing to ... Captain Awkward, or Dear Prudence or Reddit Relationships. And explaining that your friend placed you in the power of people who wanted to hurt you, deliberately exposed you to very serious danger and your worst personal fear, and caused you to watch your partner trapped and in pain for somewhere in the ballpark of 48 hours ...  BUT, he is going through some very bad shit, guys, and you really do feel for him. Imagine what the response would be.  (”My friend wanted to commit suicide-by-cop, so he planted weed/guns in the car with me and my husband in it and called the police, although he knows we both have a particular phobia of cops after what happened to another friend who was arrested a while back. Oh and he attacked our other friend, because he wanted to be totally sure the cops would come for him, but he only meant to knock her out not to nearly kill her and he’s depressed and very sorry. I still want to put our friendship on a break. AITA?”)  They would yell at you to oh my god get away from him WTF how is this even a question please get some therapy learn to love yourself. 

And if you repeated that he’s really sad! And it went down worse than he thought it would! And you don’t want to hurt him! they would yell that it’s not about hurting him it’s about protecting you.   Just ... think about it. Imagine you’re either Joe or Nicky. Assume your anger has already completely evaporated, whether you think that’s in-character or not, and imagine you feel truly sorry for Booker. Take the most generous stance on what he did that you can. Fine. But every time you turn your back on him, or see him go off on a mission alone with one of the others ... how do you feel? Even if you don’t think he’d actually do this again, do you feel safe? 

 And imagine trying to recover from the trauma of what just happened to you. Imagine how much it would help to take refuge in all the soft, “family” touches which were also such a refreshing distinguishing feature of this film. Gift exchanges and bets and TV and hugs. Imagine trying to do that with the person who put you through it right. there.

 Nicky and/or Joe could honestly wish Booker no suffering at all, nothing but recovery and healing and peace, and Booker would still be a walking PTSD trigger and working/socialising with him would be downright self-destructive. 

Now, of course this is unpleasant for Booker because he’s already lonely and self-hating and it’s difficult -- though not necessarily impossible! -- for any of them to form a support system outside the group. But that really isn’t the team’s responsibility and, what is really the alternative? 

Maybe it’s being framed so much as “punishment” because Andy says “there has to be a price.” And there does; the consequences of Booker’s choice will unfold in some way whatever they do. The team do not have the option of simply resetting to normal, even if they wanted to. The only question is only who carries the weight of those consequences and how. Should Nicky and Joe have to pretend to feel comfortable around Booker, should they force themselves to go through the motions of friendship – hug him, smile at him, pass him a coffee – while their shoulders go up around their ears whenever he’s in the room, regardless of what that means for their own healing?

The injustice of that should be obvious but even if they did it, even if they made that colossal sacrifice for the person who just hurt them, would it really help Booker? Imagine being him and settling down to watch the football beside Joe and knowing what he likely remembers whenever he looks at you. Honestly, I don’t see that being a healthy path to recovery for him either.

Or OK. Maybe they don’t put on an act. They  keep spending time with him, but they don’t try to hide the nightmares and the flashbacks or the way their smiles drop whenever he comes into the room. Maybe they flinch whenever he gets too close and sometimes they yell at him but they all have to put that on hold every time there’s a mission and somehow they also they try to be his therapists?

I don’t know, it sounds a lot kinder to everyone to just get some fucking space.

Not hanging out with someone who gravely hurt you isn’t punishment, it’s basic boundaries and self-care for you and I’m beginning to worry about what it means that many of you don’t seem to know that.

[paper-n-ashes]

The Late Shift

Characters: Paul Sevier x Female Reader

Words: 2k

Warnings/Tags: There’s actually none (I hope). I know. I’m surprised too.

Authors Note: This is so dumb. I’m aware. Look, I’ve been dealing with a horrendous writers block and shattered confidence and I made Paul Sevier gifs to ease my pain. It turned into this. I just wanted to try something a little cute and fluffy to get back into the swing of things. So... here it is.

*

It was going to be a long night.

Stuck on the Wednesday evening shift for the third time this month, you mindlessly fiddled with the pen in your hand. Twirling it between your fingers, your mind drifted away from the present moment, wondering why your boss seemed to dislike you so much to keep you here past 6pm in the middle of the week. He’d always been adamant this was prime selling time for this boutique suit store, with corporate clients needing to do their shopping outside of normal business hours.

You, however, knew keeping this place open was senseless, barely seeing more than a few unenthusiastic customers in these agonizingly slow stretches. Working on commission also made you all the more bitter about being paid minimum wage to stand behind a counter and doodle sketches of imaginary clients dressed in the outfits you personally tailored. This isn’t where you thought a Bachelor of Arts in Fashion Design would take you, that’s for sure.

“H-hello,” you heard a deep voice quietly greet you, startling you into focus. “Are you busy? I… think I need a little help.”

Eyes flickering up from the notepad, you were sure your pupils blew wide at the sight of the man in front of you. Standing at an imposingly large height, his hair a severely murky shade of black, with honeyed irises shining brightly behind delicate spectacles.

A human personification of tall, dark and handsome. Well, except for the clothes.

The stranger wore the layered combination of a grey tweed jacket and argyle patterned sweater, arranged over a particularly heinous, mustard-coloured button up. While the ensemble made you internally cringe, it gave him an air of intelligence, like the kind that hangs around stuffy, old college professors who have more academic accolades than you have fingers and toes.

“Me?” you coughed out, knowing full well you were the only other person in this tiny little shop. “Uh, yeah. I mean- No, no I’m not busy. What is it you need help with?” Even when you stood, the man towered above you, making you silently begin to calculate the high-numbered measurements you’d need to fit him in something.

“I have an important meeting scheduled for Friday. You know, the type you need to wear a suit to?” Evidently the thought of it made him nervous, as you noticed his cheek twitch slightly, his eyes scanning momentarily at the garments filling the space. “I’m… uh… not so great with clothes.”

Clearly, you chuckled inside your head, holding the word from your tongue. “You want me to pick out something for you?”

He took a defeated breath, his mouth twisting into an awkward yet wonderfully endearing smile. “Would you mind? Only if it’s not too much trouble.”

“No trouble!” you burst, maybe a little too excitedly. “It’s my job!” Bounding out from behind the counter you’d been imprisoned by, you moved directly to the section of classic navy business suits. Slim line. Something to accentuate his well-built frame, rather than hide it away. You had to pause, swivelling back around to the dumbfounded man. “Is price an issue… uh…?”

“Paul,” he answered for you, slowly moving to where you stood. “And… I suppose not. Probably should spend the money on something that will last. If you think it’s a good idea.”

Oh thank god, you mused without showing the relief on your face. He’s not some rich asshole trying to flash his cash. “A good suit can last you five years, if you treat it right.” Your hand reached over to graze one of the deepened blue sleeves of a jacket at your left. “And a classic colour will never go out of style.”

Paul let out an embarrassed chuckle. “I think you’ve already noticed how lacking in style I am…” He glanced to your nametag, murmuring your name with a goofy smirk curling his lips. You’d never seen a grown man, especially not one of this stature, appear so adorable. It was horribly distracting.

“I’m sure you have expertise in other areas,” you stumbled, realizing only when the words came out how offensive they might seem. Yet Paul conceded to your comment, his rumbling laugh making your chest feel tight.

“Debatable,” he shrugged. “I’m just glad I found some qualified personnel to help me in this instance.”

Oh boy. Humble and charming? You were in so much trouble. Surely someone as sweet as this had another waiting for them at home. “I’m sure your partner could help you pick out something nice too.”

“Not an option in my case.”

Shit. Single too. You were truly fucked.

You turned, trying to calm your erratic heartbeat by focusing on finding an outfit that would contain his longer limbs. Plucking out a matching jacket and trouser set, with an ivory, collared button-up, you offered them to Paul, his features having melted into a sweetened look of intrigue. “Go and try these on. There’s a changeroom just behind the counter. See how they feel, and we can go from there.”

He nodded, taking the pieces with both of his large hands and shuffling away to where you’d pointed to. No sooner than the latch had locked were you dashing to where your phone was sitting at the register, flitting out a rushed text message to your favourite co-worker.

There was rustling you heard emanating from the changeroom stall, doing your best to ignore the urge of picturing Paul, a man you’d met only minutes ago, gradually slipping off his clothes to reveal the toned muscles underneath. You grimaced at yourself, shaking your head to banish the imaginations. God this was unprofessional.

Finally, a response lit up on your phone screen.

You laughed softly through your nose, about to type a reply when you heard the lock click open again. The breath in your lungs was stuck as Paul made his way out, the expensive textiles draping over his burly frame in a way that made your whole body tense.

He rustled a hand through his hair, looking up to you while fidgeting with the starchy material stretched over his chest. “Does it look okay?”

After all these years working this job, the enticing novelty of attractive men in well-fitted suits had slowly worn off, especially when most of them treated you with about as much respect as the used gum they spit out onto the sidewalk. Suddenly, all those preconceived notions were gone. On Paul, this ensemble instantly became the most captivating thing in the entire universe.

The inside of your mouth flooded with saliva, having to swallow hard before speaking again. “Great… it looks… great.” You did your best to conceal a settling exhale. “What do you think? How does it feel?”

Paul shifted to look at his reflection in the mirror, pupils trailing up and down, flexing his limbs in an attempt to get a proper impression of the new apparel. “It feels really good. Makes me look… sophisticated.” He turned to you, his expression unsure. “Right?”

Your smile was sparkling, nodding to his question. There was a small amount of work to do, noting how in your effort to make sure everything complemented his physique, you’d oversized him. The waistline of the jacket needed to be taken in, the shoulder lines sitting slightly off, and the trouser length needing to be taken up slightly. “A couple of adjustments and it’ll be perfect.”

“You mean taking it to be tailored?”

“No need.” You pulled out the wheel of berry pins from your pocket, kneeling down on the floor next to Paul’s feet. “All our tailoring is included in the price. Done completely in house.” You began to fold the bottom edge of his pants, pinning it to an adequate length. “I can have it ready for you tomorrow, all ready for your Friday meeting.”

“You do all the tailoring yourself?” Paul asked as you slinked another pin through the fabric.

“Sure do,” you chirped, moving onto the other leg. “3 years at a design school taught me a few things about cutting and sewing.” With the hemlines in place, you straightened in front of him, plucking out a roll of measuring tape from your other pocket. “I just… need to take a few measurements to properly alter the jacket.”

His cheek twitched, the line of his jaw seeming somewhat strained. “Sure. F-fine. Do what you gotta do."

You went with determining his arm length first, feeling out the boney point of his shoulder and striping the lined tape all the way down to his wrist. Then, after taking a deep inhale, you curled your arms around his hips, focusing hard on the little black numbers to ignore the fact Paul’s breath had started to skate over your skin with this close proximity. It was when you were lining up the thickened stripes indicating his chest circumference that you made the mistake of peering up, finding his alluring stare fully concentrated on you.

There was a moment. A spark to waiting kindling. Where impulse could have led you to do a dangerous thing. You’d never been the hasty type, never acted without considerable thought. Usually so shy and composed, never making the first move. Although right now, you could scarcely hold yourself back, desperate to know the sensation of Paul’s lips, how they’d move over yours, what they tasted like.

No. This was so inappropriate.

The compulsion was about to wither away when you felt a hand skim up your waist, the lightened touch shooting a thrill over your skin.

“Excuse me,” a gruff voice called from your side. “How much are these dress socks?”

You immediately stepped back, smacked into reality again. “$12.99. Exactly what it says on the box.”

The older gentlemen scrutinized the packaging, lids narrowed until he finally saw the numbers plastered at the border. “Oh, right. Eh, a little expensive for my taste. Thanks anyway.”

Flustered, you began to coil the measuring tape into its resting spiral, forcefully glaring at the floor. “I’m all done. You can get dressed into your own clothes now.”

In your periphery you saw Paul regarding you with a gentle nod, walking back into the changeroom without another word. Every part of you wanted to sink beneath the wooden floorboards, so horrendously embarrassed you could feel a smoldering heat prickle at your cheeks. Only to relieve some of the nervous energy, you ran to your phone.

Again, Paul was exiting out of the stall just as you were going to submit your reply, placing the neatly arranged garments over the counter. It was difficult to look directly at him, having to summon all remaining shards of your courage to drift your eyes up to his face. “Was there anything else you needed?”

His mouth parted, only to quickly snap shut, scratching at his hairline in the seconds it took for him to give you a response. “No. Nothing else. Unless there’s something more you think I need.”

You shook your head, wishing you could give another answer just to keep him here. “You’re all set.” The full price of his items flashed on the monitor in front of you, spouting it to him as your fingers flicked across the keyboard to finalize the purchase, with a personal discount that wouldn’t show on the receipt.

“When should I come by to pick it up?” he queried, passing you his credit card. “Oh, but there’s no pressure. Whenever you have the time is just fine.”

An idea flared. “If you give me your number, I can text you when it’s ready.”

“That works for me.”

Erasing all evidence of the conversation you’d been having, you brought up the number pad, handing your phone over. Paul swiftly typed in his details before placing it back in your palm. ‘Paul the Suit Guy’ the contact read, unable to stifle your laugh.  

“So I’ll see you tomorrow?” His eager expression made your heart quiver through a beat.

“Y-yeah,” you stammered. “I’ll see you then.”

Paul waved his hand in an awkward flourish to signal his goodbye, eventually moving far enough from your vision for you to finally take a full, relaxed breath. In a dazed hurry, you keyed in your returning message to your co-worker.

It was the precise moment your thumb had pressed into the ‘Send’ button that you realised your recipient wasn’t the one you’d intended.

You’d sent this message straight to Paul.

Fuck. Oh fuck. This was bad.

While you were scrambling to formulate a believable excuse, a new message popped up onto the screen.

Tags for my lovelies who might tolerate this nonsense: @tlcwrites @roanniom @princessxkenobi @hopeamarsu @blowthatpieceofjunk @mariesackler @leatherboundriot @foxilayde @modernpaw @cornmousequeen @direnightshade @safarigirlsp @blackberries45 @mylifeisactuallyamess @caillea @jynzandtonic @beskarbabs​

[cblgblog]

Sorry I’m advance but one of my other favorite accounts just reblogged a Tony scene and people are talking about Civil War and how it made them Stan Tony, and how when they watch that movie they hate team cap👀 Then someone was all about how he was sleep deprived and how much pressure he was under and couldn’t understand how people didn’t like Tony because. Someone literally said that when someone says they don’t like Tony in Civil War they say “did you watch the same movie as me.” I’m baffled. Oddly enough someone else said, “he just wants to help everyone.” Sorry for the rant but I think people forget about what the accords are and what it would mean for people. Side note, I hope you’re having a great day/night 😀

No sorry needed!

I feel you man, I do. Honestly, I’ve unfollowed people based on similar posts when I was in especially Done moods, so.

Look on the one hand, the movie would’ve been a narrative failure if everyone was in favor of one side or the other, right? The whole point of the damn thing—besides giving the Mouse overlords more money—was to spark discussion, debate. Which, yeah, we’ll call that the tame description for what actually happened. But just, the thing was meant to split the fanbase so in that regard…winning? Thanks, I guess?

Film is also very obviously subjective, different strokes for different folks, so yeah, ten people can watch a movie and none of them are gonna see the exact same film. Let’s try to remember that this is, in theory anyway, a good thing. I just read a professional film review yesterday where I had the same reaction. What film were you watching, dude? Incidentally his reviewing partner said the same thing.

So honestly, no, they weren’t watching the same film as you or I or anyone else, because everyone brings their own biases and experiences and knowledge and interests into a thing, and that’s always going to flavor how it’s viewed. Again, let’s try to remember that this is good. In theory. Heavy on the theory.

That out of the way? Let’s get into Tony specifically so his uber stans can find this and scream at me on anon as though I just shot RDJ with a nuke.

Oh yeah, he was stressed. Oh, he was sleep deprived. Yeah, I’ve heard that. And that it’s Pepper’s fault, if she hadn’t left the poor baby, if she was there to rein him in, he’d be fine dammit, leave the baby alone!

Here’s the thing. You know who gets a pass on their shit behavior when they’re upset or tired? Actual babies. Actual babies and toddlers, and children, up to a point. Because they actually cannot always help themselves. Their bodies and brains are different, they have not learned better.

When you’re a 50-year-old man who’s supposedly the world’s bestest superhero, who wants, wants to be in charge of protecting the whole world? You need a little more self-control than that. The sleep deprived excuse works if you snap at someone before you’ve had your coffee, not for this. Roseanne Barr didn’t get to blame Ambien for her racism, Tony doesn’t get to handwave CW away because oops, I was tired.

Really? You’re a superhero, dude. Most of your teammates are tired too, that’s part of the gig. If you crash and burn this badly without your afternoon nap, fucking hang up the armor and go back to your billionaire playboy lifestyle.

Speaking of that, sure, right. It’s Pepper’s fault because she left him. Put aside the argument on whether that was justified or not (cough, it was and she should’ve stayed away even though they are adorable together). It’s not Pepper’s job to keep Tony sane. It’s not any partner’s job to do that for anyone. If she wants out, she has a right to that, without Tony going off the rails and blaming it on her. Seriously, he says part of the reason he backed the Accords was to “split the difference” with Pepper.

Dude. You were an asshole and you lost your girl. You destroyed all your suits, turned an emotional and mental corner in IM 3…and then relapsed 4 minutes later I guess because Whedon. Either way, Tony admits himself that he does not want to stop. So instead of doing that, or finding another partner who can accept that, you back an unjust international law that pits you against your team, your supposed friends? Go to therapy, have a pint of ice cream, cry into your pillow, send her more of those strawberries you sent her in IM 2 that she’s allergic to. You don’t go trying to change international law in ways that could ultimately affect millions of people because your girl left you.

Honestly—and thank God they didn’t do this but—the only way the Pepper excuse works in excusing his behavior in any way is if she’d died. Or been severely injured like Happy in IM 3. Still wouldn’t be okay, but, like Quill messing up their chance to stop Thanos because Gamora died, it would’ve been more understandable. Understandable, not excusable, and the way the MCU treats their women as manpain fodder, we’re probably legit lucky we didn’t get this.

As for him wanting to help everyone. He does in fact want that, I think. The problem is that his need to feel like he’s doing that is stronger than his rational mind, or his want to actually help in a constructive way.

Tony is too smart. He’s dumb as hell in many instances, mostly involving people and relationships, but he’s also too smart, and he’s been told for too long that he’s smart, and he’s bought into it. Ultron. Suit of armor around the world, protects the world, no more alien threats. It’s a simple concept on paper that fails in execution. So there are people with dangerous powers. Okay, we’ll make a set of laws to keep them from being dangerous, problem solved. But again, it isn’t.

Tony is not used to problems he cannot solve. He’s a genius, right? He can fix anything. He should be able to fix anything. That’s how he feels. But not everything is zeros and ones and circuits, things that can be fixed mechanically like his armors can. The people he wants to protect are not built that way. But he needs to feel like he’s doing something, because he’s terrified of what happens to the world if he doesn’t. So he creates these simple solutions to complex problems. The suit of armor, the Accords. They sound good in theory, but the problems they’re trying to solve are bigger than they are. And Tony, way back in IM 1, he sat back for years, clueless that his weapons were being used for bad things. He says it to Cap in CW. When he found out what his weapons were being used for, he went in and stopped it. Whether or not he should’ve known that already is a separate issue here. The point here is that when he found out, too late or not, he went in and did something about it.

Tony needs to do something about it. Again, go back to Cap in AoU, Tony’s nightmare sequence. Steve asks Tony why he didn’t save them. Tony’s ultimate nightmare is that he sits back and does nothing, and his inaction causes everyone to die. Which is where you get Ultron. Something he came up with because of what he saw in space in Avengers 1, then doubled down on in AoU. It’s where you get the Accords. Oops, he caused someone to die, he killed Charles Spencer. Must do something about that right now so it doesn’t happen again, and he won’t have to feel this guilt. He should be collaborating with others to come up with solutions (no Bruce in AoU doesn’t count because Bruce was dumb there), or at the very least, taking more time to think through the repercussions of the things he puts out there. But he doesn’t, because he’s got his savior complex that tells him that he alone can and must fix this, and because he’s too dumb to realize how not-smart he is in certain areas.

“We need to be put in check. Whatever form that takes, I’m game.”

Isn’t that what he says in CW, or something very close to it? Whatever form that takes. That’s the issue, right there, whatever form that takes. Realistically, yes, there should be laws regarding people with powers, the same way there are special laws pertaining to people who carry guns, or people who are licensed to fly planes. You have a thing/can do a thing that not everyone else does, so there are regulations pertaining to that thing. Laws change with the times, they always have. Some new technology comes up, eventually there will be laws that regulate it. As there should be, honestly. The issue with the Accords, Steve’s issue with the Accords, was not the basic idea. He says as much. He says that it could work, but there would have to be safeguards. Safeguards that are not in the Accords that Tony wants him to sign.

It's not a matter of oh, fuck the law, there should be no law governing these people, they’re above it. The problem is that the law as it’s presented here is unjust. There’s what, a month between Lagos and Ross coming by to tell them about the Accords? A month is not enough time to properly analyze such a big issue, Especially when you’re reacting out of fear, which is what happened with Lagos. People died because of an Enhanced person, an Avenger, in this case. Lawmakers don’t want that to happen again, they especially don’t want the political shit storm that comes with it. Damn, we look like we were asleep at the switch here, not having anything to throw at this problem earlier. Quick, let’s throw together this thing so no one can say we’re not addressing the problem.

Patriot Act of 2001, anyone? 9/11 happened, the public were rightfully terrified, the US said oh man, these are unprecedented circumstances, we’ve never had this before. Don’t worry though, we’re on this, we’re protecting you. The reality being that that bill simply gave the government too much power, most of it being used against people who were not actually threats, and it’s debatable, to say the very least, whether or not that law helped more than it hurt.

No law is perfect. No law ever will be. It’s not possible. We still have to strive for perfection though, have to aim there so that the laws we get are as close to fair as possible. Tony’s a big deal. If not for his “whatever form that takes” attitude, he might’ve been able to use his influence to pressure lawmakers into coming up with a fairer bill. Hey, I’m me, the public loves me, I will endorse this bill publicly and work on getting the rest of the team to sign, but you need to change this and this and this first, or no deal. Instead, he took the easy way out, the quickest, easiest way for him to feel like he’s atoned for his sins without actually doing anything. Whatever form that takes.

Tony’s not wrong because he backs the creation of a law that addresses these things. He’s wrong because he says himself that he does not care what that law does, specifically, so long as it exists. He’s wrong because he violates said law upteen times during the movie, while preaching to team Cap about what assholes they are for not backing it. He’s wrong because he cares more about feeling as though he’s tackled a problem than he does about taking the time to make sure that the thing he’s proposing is actually a good idea. He’s wrong because of what he does with Bucky, though that’s honestly a separate issue, for the purposes of this discussion.

Anyway, that was longer than I ever wanted it to be. Damn. Next time you see a comment about CW being the reason people stan Tony, just remember there are other people out there who stopped stanning Tony because of that movie. Everyone’s entitled to see a piece of media however they see it, and although the Tony stans are often the loudest, there are plenty of like-minded people out there who share your take on events. Block who you need to, unfollow who you need to, blacklist what you need to, and don’t let them get you down.

Hang in there, and have an awesome day :)

[dilly-oh]

Laundry Day

    It had been building for weeks now. Piling up, bit by bit. Iruka ignored it for as long as he could, shoving it to the back of his mind and going about his daily business, teaching at the Academy and pulling shifts at the Mission Desk like nothing was wrong. But eventually, even he could deny it no longer. When he checked his closet and found that all he had to wear was a single ketchup-or-maybe-blood-stained crop-top, tight yoga shorts, and flip-flops, he knew it was finally time to stop putting it off. There was no other choice left. 

    He had to do laundry.

    “Oh my God, who did you kill?” Anko asked as he dragged the bulging laundry bag down the hallway of his apartment complex.

    “You, if you don't back off,” Iruka snapped at her. “There's just enough room in here for a body.”

    “I sincerely doubt that,” Anko said, cocking an eyebrow at the huge bag. “Seriously, what gives? That thing must be, like, a hundred pounds. Is this some kind of new training craze?”

    “It's laundry day,” Iruka stated. Anko blinked. “I haven't done laundry in two months,” he went on impatiently. “It's kind of hard to find the time between my job teaching, my job at the Mission Desk, and my other job keeping Naruto and Sasuke from killing or kissing each other in public, and since they all count as full-time jobs with none of the benefits, I literally have nothing else to wear.” 

    “Ah. That would explain the booty shorts.”

    “They're called yoga shorts, and they're comfortable.”

    “I don't care what they're called, your ass looks amazing in them.”

    “Stop ogling me!” Iruka barked, his cheeks flaming. Anko's eyes didn't move. “Am I gonna have to go have another talk with HR?” Anko paled.

    “Oh, God, please don't. Last time I had to watch a three-hour film on sexual harassment in the workplace. I had to take notes. There was a quiz after.” 

    “Then stop. STARING.” Iruka gave Anko one last glare, then continued on his way, dragging his laundry bag after him with all the dignity he could muster. Which wasn't alot, considering the bag was heavy as fuck and he'd kinda been neglecting his standard workout routine. Because, you know, three jobs or whatever. 

    There were quite a few laundromats scattered about Konoha, all stocked with specialized, heavy-duty cleaning supplies for shinobi needs (to aid in the removal of blood, guts, and other icky bits picked up from slaughtering enemies and whatnot). The one Iruka usually frequented was located about ten blocks away, which normally wasn't too bad, especially if Iruka went by rooftop. However, that was quite impossible at the moment, considering his giant bag of dirty clothes was hefty and ungainly enough that it would probably squirt right out of his arms and kill an unfortunate pedestrian below. Also, it was the middle of summer and the sun had decided to be an asshole that day, blazing down like some kind of fire Jutsu and scalding every living thing in sight. To make matters worse, the laundry bag seemed to grow heavier with every step until it was like dragging Hokage mountain down the street. So by the time Iruka finally managed to heave the bag halfway across Konoha and up a flight of stairs into the laundromat itself, he was a hot, sweaty mess, his ponytail half-undone and hanging in his face, damp clothing sticking to his skin. 

    Which was exactly why Hatake motherfucking Kakashi was in there, of fucking course. There was no way Iruka's silly little crush wouldn't be in the one place he'd hoped he wouldn't be. 

    Iruka wanted to crawl into the nearest drier and turn it on.

    Maybe he won't see me, he thought as he quietly slipped inside.

    “Hey, Iruka!” Kotetsu shouted from across the entire laundromat. “Nice shorts!” 

    Everyone immediately turned to look.

    Well I know who I'm going to kill now, Iruka thought to himself miserably as he was ogled by every shinobi in the room. He made a mental checklist and vowed to prank each one in retaliation. His body was a temple.

    “You know you could have just stuffed that in a scroll,” Genma said after peeling his gaze off Iruka's thighs, twitching his senbon at the bulging bag. 

    “I'll stuff you in a fucking scroll,” Iruka hissed at him, wiping a sweaty strand of hair out of his face.

    “Ooh, baby, talk dirty to me,” Genma cooed.

    “You're disgusting,” Iruka said flatly. He glanced around, looking for a table with any inch of free space, perfectly willing to fight someone for it. There, in the back, he spotted one last table...right next to Kakashi. Because, you know, this day couldn't get any worse. Iruka debated waiting an extra ten minutes or so to see if the laundromat emptied out a bit, saw Genma wiggle his eyebrows suggestively at him, and decided anything was better than this. Steeling himself with a deep breath, he dragged his bag over to the open table beside Kakashi and started dumping clothes out.

    Kakashi, thankfully, didn't respond to his sudden arrival except for a polite grunt and nod in greeting. Iruka nodded back, then focused for the next several minutes on organizing his dirty clothes, intent on ending this humiliation as quickly as possible. As he worked, he couldn't help but sneak glances at Kakashi while he sorted his lights and darks. The man was busy folding his own laundry, bent over the table, his movements precise and methodical, done with the utmost care. Iruka almost suspected he was using the Sharingan to achieve such perfect folds. He glanced down at the clothes themselves, expecting combat fatigues or maybe a pair of well-worn sweats. 

    Instead, he was surprised to discover Kakashi was folding almost two dozen miniature flak jackets with some kind of funny emblem on the back. 

    “Did...did you accidentally shrink that in the drier or something?” Iruka blurted out before he could stop himself. Kakashi looked over at him, blinking lazily, then chuckled, a husky sound that made Iruka's knees weak. 

    “Of course not,” he said, his voice warm with amusement. “This is my ninken's laundry.” 

    Iruka had to hold in a snort. The famed Copy-Nin of Konoha, scourge of all enemies, feared by missing-nin, doing his ninken's laundry? It was ridiculous! It was absurd! It was...

    Adorable, quite frankly. Iruka's heart melted a little at the sight of him carefully piling up their little vests, careful not to crease them.

    “It's a pain,” Kakashi went on. “They're so picky. I have to use unscented detergent and dryer sheets or they complain.”

    “Too bad they don't sell a fresh cat-shit scent,” Iruka chuckled awkwardly before biting his lip. 

    Kakashi, however, took no offense, throwing his head back and laughing aloud.

    “Ha! They'd like that! Maybe they have a three-day-old steak one, too.” He grinned at Iruka through his mask, one visible eye twinkling. Iruka flushed, and he quickly turned back to his laundry, realized he was holding a pair of underwear, and flung it away, his face flushing darker as he busied himself with sorting again. “You've got quite a load,” Kakashi went on after a moment, nodding at the mountainous pile in front of him.

    “Yeah, I've been putting it off for a while,” Iruka grumbled distractedly, searching for a stray sock's missing partner with no luck. “This is literally the last thing I have to wear, so I either do laundry today or go into work tomorrow naked.”

    “I knew I should have finished that mission report,” Kakashi said under his breath.

    “Very funny,” Iruka scoffed in annoyance, shoving his first few loads into the nearby washing machines.

    “Oh, I'm dead serious.”

    The annoyance turned to anger, and Iruka looked over at the other man to give him a piece of his mind, only to find him staring right back, his warm grin having grown into something much more inviting, bordering on flirtatious. Iruka's sharp comment died in his throat and he cleared it roughly, feeling hot all over. Awkwardly, he reached for change in his pockets, then froze. He looked down and swore. He didn't even fucking have pockets. Stupid booty- YOGA shorts. He'd forgotten the quarters, and he didn't dare leave his clothes unattended for fear someone like Genma would be a creep and steal a pair of underwear or something. Also, Izumo and Kotetsu had a habit of borrowing things and never returning them, and he could see them eyeing several of his favorite shirts from across the laundromat. He'd just have to pack everything up and return home. What a waste, the whole trip had been for nothing-

    The clink of coins snapped him out of his mental cursing, and he looked up in shock to see Kakashi paying for his loads. 

    “Oh no,” he sputtered, “please, Kakashi, you don't have to-”

    “It's fine. You can pay next time,” Kakashi said with a wave. 

    “But I...well...oh, alright, fine.” Iruka sighed, giving in. “Thank you.”

    “So it's a date then,” Kakashi said. “Which cycle do you prefer?” 

    “Cotton cycle, cold water, extra rinse, please,” Iruka said automatically, then blinked. “Wait, I'm sorry, did you say-” 

    “See you next week,” Kakashi was already halfway to the door, his ninken's clothes tucked under his arms and a pile of quarters left on Iruka's table for the rest of his loads. Iruka gaped after him in shock. 

    Had that...really just happened? Had he really exchanged pleasantries with one of the most infamous shinobi of Konoha while folding laundry? Or had it all been merely a dream, a figment of his imagination-

    “You washing those shorts, too?” Genma asked hopefully, leering like a hungry wolf.

    Nope, he was definitely awake. Iruka threw some Tide-pods at Genma to chase him away before turning back to his loads, shaking his head in wonder.

    He'd definitely be doing his laundry more often from now on.

(Written for @kakairu-fest KakaIru Month 2021, Day Ten Prompt: Laundry)

[13uswntimagines]

I Should Sleep With You More Often (Sam x Reader)

Sequel to Works Like a Charm  where Sam and Reader finally get together. It’s a very fluffy piece, with a little bit of late night breakfast making and a surprise kiss. 

special thanks to @literaryhedgehog​ cause this wouldn’t have happened without her. 

Hello?”

“Hey, I can’t sleep.” Sam’s voice comes over the phone, getting straight to the point with frustration.

“And you’re calling me about it? At 3 am. I could have been asleep you know.” You huff into the phone, pinning it between your chin and your shoulder. 

“Were you?” She asks, and you can almost see her eyebrow quirking up. 

You look down at the frying pan where you were about to pour your egg-cheese scramble. “No. But still.”

“Don’t worry, I appreciate the irony of the situation,” she says, with an attempt at humor. “can I come over?”

“Sure. You can split my omelet.” You hum, your tongue poking out as you make sure the entire omelet landed on the plate instead of the floor. 

“Omelette?” Sam asked, sounding amused. “I thought you weren’t supposed to --” 

“Eat anything after 9 pm I know, I know. But I woke up and was hungry, and couldn’t just ignore it to fall back asleep for two hours. I had to eat something or I was going to get nauseous.” You interrupted her, waving your hand dismissively. 

“What?” Sam asked entirely confused. 

“You know that feeling, where you’re like, so hungry that you get kind of nauseous?” You tried to explain again. 

“No…” She trailed off. 

“Oh, well it’s the worst. I like to try to eat something before it gets too bad because otherwise, the food won’t do anything. Anyway, I made enough you can have half of it, just let me know when you get here so I can send down the elevator for you.” You said, whipping your hands off and walking towards the door. 

“I’m actually just parking,” Sam’s voice came sheepishly over the phone. In the background, you heard the unmistakable sound of her car being locked. She always insisted on clicking the lock button twice so it would beep, like she didn’t trust it to lock the first time. 

You shook your head and left your apartment to buzz her into the building. “You’re telling me that at 3 am, before even checking to see if I was awake, you just decided to come to my apartment because you couldn’t sleep?”

“Yes?” 

“You’re insane,” you said, hanging up the phone as the elevator door opened to reveal her tall frame. 

She ruffled the hair at the back of her neck, grinning. “I knew you would be awake?”

“Bullshit.” You led the way back to your apartment and grabbed two plates from the cabinet. “You want soy milk?”

“What?” 

“Soy milk. I’ve got vanilla or dark chocolate.” For some reason, soy milk helped reduce the insomnia nausea more than anything else most days. Still, the omelet smelled amazing. 

“Um sure, vanilla please.” She shrugged, and you rolled your eyes. Vanilla was for the weak. 

You pulled out both cartons and two glasses, before cutting the omelet in half and handing her a fork. 

“Don’t I get my own plate?” Sam whined, cutting off a piece of the Omelet and popping it into her mouth. 

“People who come barging into my apartment at 3 AM have to share with the host. Unless you wanna do dishes?” You raised your eyebrow at her, pointing your fork in her direction, smirking when she emphatically shook her head no. 

She quickly changed the subject, avoiding your eyes as she ate. “So how are you liking your apartment, it’s new right?”

“Yeah, I moved in four months ago, you know when I suddenly got traded to North Carolina,” you said, a very bitter edge in your voice. How Mark could let you leave the thorns you would never know, but at least Hinkle was retiring. 

You took another bite “So why couldn’t you sleep? At camp, you’re usually snoring like a freight train by now.” 

Sam paused mid-bite, fork in the air. She looked like she was debating how to answer then, stuffed her last piece of omelet in her mouth. “I donb snowe.”

“You totally do. Rose even sent me the video evidence if you wanna see it,” you smirked, standing to go get your phone. 

“No!” Sam jumped up and you sprinted across the kitchen to get out of her reach, grinning. “You really don’t have to do that, it’s not a big deal.”

“Oh, but I really don’t mind,” you taunted, starting for your phone before Sam tackled you. Well, it wasn’t a tackle so much as a grab, but she had a good foot and a half on you, so same difference really. 

“Put me down. This is highly unnecessary,” you sputtered, laughing from Sam’s shoulder. “I’m not supposed to exercise within an hour of bed. My therapist would be unhappy with so much activity.”

“Yeah cause eating an Omelette at 3 am is totally something she would approve,” Sam rolled her eyes, as she tossed you onto your couch.

“Lies and slander. I won’t get the alleged snoring video, but seriously. Why are you here?”

Sam sighs, and slouches onto the couch next to you, dropping her head into your lap. You smile down at her, liking this new angle. While you certainly didn’t mind being the baby of the team, it was kind of nice to do the petting for once.

“I don’t know,” Sam said, furrowing her eyebrows.

“You were never a good liar. It’s why everyone catches you when you try to pull pranks. I hear it helps if you talk about it,” You murmured, using your thumb to smooth out the crease that formed between her eyes. 

“Fine, I couldn’t sleep because I kept having nightmares. It felt like, I was tossing and turning for hours, and then every time I dozed off, my brain came up with these fucked up images. Like, silence of the lambs shit. I could sell some horror film director the plotlines and make bank, I’m telling you. And since Rose and Wilma moved out, my place has felt so empty. It felt like, the panic attacks I used to have before games. When I had to always bring a bag with me to hyperventilate into before I could get my mind on the game.”

You frowned. “I don’t remember that.”

“Once you became my bus buddy I didn’t have that problem. You got me out of my own head with fun word games and stupid jokes. Remember that time you gave me the sentence ‘The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog?’ You kept grinning telling me to stop stressing out, it would be alright, to just guess a letter.” 

“Because whatever you guessed would be right.” You hum smiling down at her. 

 “You couldn’t take that shit-eating grin off your face, you jerk, but like, it helped me stop second-guessing myself. Sitting on the bus with you, I’ve never felt more calm going into a season. And so I just thought. It’s dumb but I hoped coming here would help.” She shrugged. 

“It’s not dumb Sammy. You help me sleep too. Why do you think all the vets insist I sit with you?” You said softly, leaning down to kiss her forehead. 

“Because you used to fall asleep literally everywhere and they hoped I could get across the aisle and catch you before you hit your head?” She giggled and you snapped her shoulder lightly. 

“Wow. Thanks.” You said in a monotone, “Or maybe it’s ‘cause you’re my favorite teddy bear.”

“If anyone is the teddy it’s you. You’re like half my size,” She giggled. 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” you muttered, playfully pushing her head off your lap. “Come on you giant.”

“Where are you going?” She asked, allowing you to pull her to her feet. 

“To go grab you a toothbrush and a fresh pillowcase for the bed.” You said, your tugging getting a little more insistent. You really wanted to get to sleep tonight. You had been so good lately (ignoring the random omelet you cooked tonight).

“Oh, um. I was hoping we could just watch television on your couch and I would fall asleep,” Sam rambled, eyes wide. “I mean, not that I mind, but I didn’t want to like, invade on your--”

“Just come up to my room. It’s no big deal, it’s large enough for both of us, and I honestly don’t think that couch is even big enough to fit you. Besides, maybe it will help you sleep to be on a mattress actually purchased in this century.”

“Hey, I like my mattress!” She grumbled indignantly, crossing her arms. 

“You flip it twice a month because it keeps forming an indention where you’ve slept!” You said exasperated. That sleepover had been a terrible idea and you stood by that. At least your bed didn’t spit out feathers when you turned over too fast. 

“Well, I. um. No comment.” you hear her say as you go to take your turn in the bathroom. 

When Sam gets back from brushing her teeth you’ve done everything except turn out the lights. You look up from your side of the bed as she pauses in the doorway. 

“Is this… Welcome to Night Vale?”

“It helps me ignore my thoughts. Can you get the lights please?” 

You had to replay the podcast the next day after Sam left. You couldn’t remember anything after “Wednesday has been canceled due to a scheduling error” because within moments you were asleep.

*****

You thought that sleeping with Sam was only supposed to be a one-night thing, but it wasn’t. One night turned into two, which turned into the two of you usually crashing at each other's places. 

If you were being honest, it was the best sleep you had ever gotten. It was nice to have someone there to hold onto, to protect you from the bad dreams. The problem was that your feelings were edging past the line of friendship, and you had no idea what to do about it. 

It started with a team party you both went to, where Sam offered to be the designated driver. After she dropped everyone else off, you told her she might as well stay the night at your place since it was already so late and she did. And you both slept great. And then you had your usual Saturday spa night the next night, and you were several shots in and it wouldn’t have been responsible to drive home. And you both slept a solid seven hours. 

Not that Sam was a magical cure to your insomnia. You still had nights where your brain was like a train running off the rails, unstoppable no matter how hard you tried. Yet, having her there helped. She made sure blue lights went off when they were supposed to, and your late-night breakfast-making was kept to a minimum. AND after the first few nights, you realized that she was amusingly clingy in her sleep. Which meant that occasionally if you woke up and tried to get out of bed, she would sleepily grab you and hold you in place murmuring about whatever was happening in her dream. Since you couldn’t get up you had to just lay there, which normally might have been boring, but with her was amusing as you listened to her rambling state of consciousness. 

You sighed, staring up at the ceiling. You really needed to get your shit together and just ask her out. But what if she said no, and you lost your cuddle buddy? That would suck royally, and if you lost your bus seat it might completely curse the USWNT. 

“Alright, I can practically feel the steam coming out of your ears, spill,” Sam groaned, rolling over and throwing an arm around your waist. 

“Isn’t it weird?”

“What?”

“Time. Like someone decided that seconds were a thing and a certain number of seconds equaled a minute and there were a certain number of minutes in a day. Like someone just decided it was a thing, and everyone went along with it and now we all have to plan our lives around this arbitrary system. I wonder if that asshole realized that people would use it to put kids in detention and force them to cram so they could regurgitate facts in a specified amount of his made-up system. And like the Romans made a Calendar and the Mayans did one too…” Your rambling was cut off by Sams’s soft lips touching your own in a quick peck before she collapsed back into the pillow. “Just blame capitalism babe.”

You stared at her for a minute, shocked, before she bolted upright. “SHIT. Sorry, I just. I forgot to ask for consent. I just forgot--”

“I consent, yes, more of this please,” you said, leaning over to kiss her again. Your hands cupped her cheeks and her fingers tangled into the baby hairs at the back of your neck. 

After a few minutes, Sam broke off the kiss, both of you breathing heavily. “Um, wow. You know, I’m not sure this is helping you get to sleep, love.”

You smirk, biting your lip and straddling her hips before you lean in to kiss her again, slowly. “You’re the one who said you needed to sleep with me more often.”

[kaistarus]

Just A Line Without A Hook

Pairing: Hinata X Reader

Words: 5.9K

Summary: You and Hinata share your point-of-views during important milestones throughout your relationship.

A/N: This is a full relationship development and I’m very proud lol hopefully you can find some joy in it :3

Masterlist // Ko-Fi

Hinata was weird.

That lurked in your mind as you leaned on a conspicuously sticky bar table listening to him tell you his entire life’s story. Your original intent for the night had been to quickly pop into Yachi’s birthday party since you worked at the butt crack of dawn. Give her the present and maybe have a drink. Whatever you did it was meant to be fast.

Too bad you had never been good at sticking to plans.

“I moved to Brazil right after high school to learn beach volleyball,” Hinata said, his smile soft as he looked longingly in the distance. “But I didn’t explore as much as I should have. I really want to go back.”

“Out of high school?” You cocked your head to the side, “that’s wild. I moved to Tokyo and still felt completely out of place.”

“Well, it didn’t go too hot at first.” He scratched his cheek. “I actually got my wallet stolen my first week there…”

You fought to keep lips from pulling into a smile.

There was something in the carefree way he carried himself that made it hard to turn away. The moment Yachi introduced you there was an odd sense of comfort that washed over you. Which made no sense because you had known absolutely nothing about the guy-aside from him being a professional volleyball player and attending high school with Yachi.

Still, it was no reason to let your guard down.

“Sounds like they took advantage of the clueless foreigner,” you teased, curious butterflies tickling your abdomen when he pouted. “I’ve always thought Italy looked cool. If I could travel somewhere.”

Hinata’s lips mindlessly curved into a relaxed smile as you spoke, as if that was their default expression when not preoccupied. And it made conversation with him easy. It dissipated your usual anxieties about overthinking every action or word. You truly felt like you could be yourself and just exist within his presence.

“I have a friend in Italy!” Hinata said, elation lighting up his amber eyes. He began drawing circles in the condensation of his glass with an awkward laugh. “I think anyway. He travels all over the place, but he was in Italy last I knew.”

“That’s so cool,” your jaw went a little slack. You didn’t know people actually did stuff like that.

“Yeah Noya’s the best,” Hinata nodded resolutely. “He visited me for a while in Brazil. I taught him some Portugese and we played beach volleyball. He was so jealous everyone called me Ninja Shoyo. It was awesome.”

Hinata could speak Portugese? Ninja Shoyo?

So many questions…

“What’s a Ninja Sho-” You began until your phone lit up after receiving a message and you realized just how late it was. “Oh my god, I have to go.”

“Wait,” Hinata interrupted you mid-frantic scrabble to zip your jacket. You furrowed your brow at the smartphone he placed unlocked on the table between you. “Could I-uh-you know… talk to you again sometime?”

You blinked a few times before swiping the device off the bar’s gross table. “Yeah,” you said, a warmth you didn’t recognize filling your chest as you created your contact. “I’d like that.”

An absentminded smile painted Hinata’s face after you waved good-bye and when you stepped outside beneath the light snowfall you realized your lips were curved to match. But there was still too wide a gap between how little you knew about Hinata and how much you desired to be close to him. That new part of you burned too bright in your chest to be ignored.

And you would simply have to change that.

*******************************************************************************************

Hinata huddled in the corner of the gymnasium over his duffle bag, staring at his cellphone in case he received a last second message. His eyes flickered between the ticking clock above the bleachers and his phone’s black screen, stomach sinking as the seconds passed. He anxiously unlocked his phone to scroll through and analyze his last conversation.

Had he said something wrong? He supposed he’d never actively tried to flirt before, so it wasn’t unlikely he offended you somehow. He furrowed his brow and chewed on his thumbnail, rereading his last message. Maybe he overdid it with the emojis?

Wait, were you at work? You could also just be busy. Maybe he was just overthinking everything…

“Why are you crouched in the corner like a creep?” Atsumu crept up behind him, eyeing him suspiciously.

Hinata jumped, shoving his phone back into his duffle bag. “Nothing.”

“Bull shit. You’ve been acting off for weeks,” Atsumu squatted to Hinata’s eye-level and leaned forward with a sly grin. “Someone’s keeping secrets.”

A warmth rushed to Hinata’s face. He was a terrible liar if questioned directly. “I wouldn’t keep secrets from you guys. I mean, we’re practically family now.” he chuckled unconvincingly.

“Right,” Atsumu gave him a once-over before standing. Hinata let out a relieved sigh that he’d been spared for now.

“What’s happening over here?” Bakuto boisterously called out while skipping over to the boys. Sakusa trailed behind him with his hands shoved deep into his sweatpant’s pockets.

“Hinata’s lying out his ass.”

Hinata whipped around toward Atsumu with his jaw slack. The audacity of this guy. “I am not!”

“The guy’s zoning out at practice, making heart eyes at his phone, and fucking notre daming over his duffle?” Atsume raised his brows at Hinata. “Either he’s getting scouted for a different team or he’s dating someone.”

“You’re leaving the team?” Sakusa asked monotone, as if he couldn’t care either way. If Hinata wasn’t used to the constant monotone he’d be offended.

“No,” he denied, qualming Bokuto’s prepared puppy-dog eyes. “And I’m not dating anyone.”

Which wasn’t a lie. You were nothing more than a friend at this point. Even if his heart ignited a flame anytime your name crossed his mind.

“A crush then,” Atsumu waved him off. “Either way a massive Hinata life development you lied to us about.”

“I didn’t lie, I just,” Hinata wrinkled his nose while thinking of ways out of the predicament. “I think Shugo is calling to start practice. We should probably-”

“You’ve got a crush?” Bokuto’s eyes appeared to sparkle when he flung an arm around Hinata’s shoulder. “Who is it? Do we know them? You don’t need to sweat Hinata I’m an excellent wingman.”

Hinata waved his hands in front of him. “You don’t know them and it’s okay. You really don’t have to-”

“Oh, don’t be so considerate. We’re offering our services Hinata.” Atsumu said smugly while Bokuto nodded excitedly.

Hinata forced a half-smile. This had been exactly what he wanted to avoid. If his feelings were just a measly crush he would have gladly brought them up to the guys, but they were way more extreme then that.

“I’m not offering anything,” Sakusa raised his brows slightly in Hinata’s direction before walking off. “Good luck.”

“Buzz kill.” Atsumu pouted.

“Look, this is more complicated than you guys realize,” Hinata brushed Bokuto’s arm off his shoulders. “I can’t really explain it, but I don’t think you guys can help me.”

“Hinata, it’s okay. We all have our faults. Some more than others, but we’re here for you.” Atsumu patted his shoulder understandably and Hinata shot him a glare.

“Akaashi always tells me to ‘just be yourself’.” Bokuto nodded proudly, clasping his fist with determination. “Then you’ll attract the people who are meant to be in your life.”

Hinata blinked a few times. That… was really good advice.

“That’s stupid,” Atsumu scoffed. “You gotta stalk them on all social media. Analyze their personality and figure out exactly what they're into. Learn their ins and outs and become their type.”

That… was the dumbest thing he had ever heard.

“I don’t know Atsumu, that sounds kind of wrong,” Bokuto tapped his chin and Atsumu pinched the bridge of his nose, sighed deeply.

“Okay, but numbers don’t lie and I have the highest success rate.”

Bokuto and Hinata tilted their heads mulling that one over. No. It still seemed dumb.

Hinata zoned off as Bokuto and Atsumu began debating the morals of online stalking and the value of Akaashi’s opinions. He already knew that if he wanted real help picking apart the fire in his chest he’d have to talk to someone who’d take him seriously like Yamaguchi. Then he’d actually get to dissect the confusing emotions in his heart-look at them from all angles.

Learn to understand them and tend to them properly. Help them grow.

He watched Atsumu chase a cackling Bokuto around the gym until their captain Shugo scolded them. Hinata smirked. Even if they weren’t the most helpful he still appreciated knowing he had people willing to help him... in their own way.

*******************************************************************************************

You and Hinata spent the majority of your free time together, but even after several months it was nothing more than two friends placing comfort in each other’s company. Most Thursdays it was normal to find Hinata lounging on your living room sofa. He watched some volleyball commentary video on his cellphone, legs propped lazily on the armrest, while you answered work emails at your coffee table.

On a normal Thursday night you would continue whatever show you’d been watching-currently Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood-but tonight you were stuck finishing last minute work. You heaved a sigh and glanced over your shoulder at Hinata, his breathing relaxed while his eyes flickered across his phone’s screen.

You weren’t oblivious to your feelings. Maybe at first you were able to brush them off as excitement about a new friend, but they had shifted into something intense. Always festering in the forefront of your mind throughout your daily routine.

It became obvious when you noticed you spent more time counting the freckles scattered across the bridge of his nose than focusing on conversations. When you realized you spent more time at work trying to pin-point the exact shade to call his hair than getting actual work done. Even more so when your heart would do acrobatics at the sound of his voice whenever you talked on the phone.

No matter how you looked at it, it became impossible to deny.

“Hey, are you okay?”

You looked back again and Hinata’s eyebrows were furrowed with concern, his earbuds pulled out and phone placed on his stomach. 

“Yeah,” you half-smiled and he raised his brows to show he clearly didn’t believe you. You let out a breathy laugh, breaking the eye-contact to lean back against the couch and place your head on his bicep. “I’m just thinking.”

“Don’t hurt yourself,” he teased, a hand gently placed on the crown of your head.

“Shut up,” you said with no bite behind your words.

He snorted, rubbing his thumb against the top of your head. “...what if I was also thinking?”

“That’s probably more dangerous than me thinking,” you laughed, rubbing your socked toes together with a soft smile. When he didn’t respond you twisted around to check on him, but he wouldn’t meet your eyes. “Hinata?”

“Nevermind.”

You gripped the couch cushion for support as you leaned in slightly. There was no way for you to be sure, but you could have sworn Hinata was blushing.

“What were you thinking about?” You questioned. Your heart was beating a million times a second in your chest and there was something akin to hope burning beside it.

Hinata looked in your eyes challengingly, “what were you thinking about?”

“You.”

He seemed taken aback by your bluntness, but brushed it off quickly. “I want to kiss you.”

Your eyes widened. It felt like all the air had been sucked from the room as you stared into his hopeful amber eyes.

“Well, do it then.” You responded, barely above a whisper. Hinata took a while to process, but once he had his face lit up crimson.

His hand cradled the side of your face and you watched him carefully, allowing him to make the moves. You kept your mind blank so as not to overthink the situation, but you hoped at least one brain cell was functioning enough to get you through it.

The kiss Hinata pressed against your lips was a little too hesitant, too off-center, and too brief. Yet the beaming smile he gave you afterward sent your heart into a frenzy unlike anything you’d ever experienced. The dopey smile on your lips felt too embarrassing and you buried your face against Hinata’s chest.

After a little coaxing with promises of television and snacks you peeked back up, happily met with Hinata’s dazed smile. The rest of the night was spent wrapped in each other’s arms and supplying random kisses because ‘they definitely needed practice’; ending with Hinata falling asleep in your bed for the first, but definitely not last, time.

*******************************************************************************************

Hinata hated being sick.

He hated fighting through a thick fog to collect words when stringing together sentences was usually effortless. He hated the pounding headaches following any light reaching his unfocused eyes. And Hinata especially hated his fit lungs struggling through breaths that came out raspy and weak through his aching throat.

Nothing good came from being sick. It was a lesson he learned long ago.

“You need to sleep,” you whispered against the crown of his head, your fingers carding gently through his sweaty locks. He nuzzled the tip of his nose against the cool skin at your collarbone while gripping your shirt at your shoulder.

Unfortunately, you were making it really hard for him to hate anything anymore.

“You’re going to get sick,” he pointed out, voice scratchy from his throat’s soreness.

You hummed dismissively, planting a small kiss on the top of his head. “My immune system’s pretty strong.”

Hinata knew it didn’t work that way, but was too selfish to argue your flawed logic. The bare skin of your neck helped chill his overheated forehead and he cuddled ever closer into you, twining your legs together. He wrinkled his nose when he realized how gross his fever was probably making him.

He’d have to wash your sheets and stuff when he was feeling better.

“I wish I could kiss you,” he pouted.

“That one’s gonna have to wait,” you chuckled lightly, beginning to rub soothing circles into his lower back. The vibrations from your voice sent a pleasant shiver down Hinata’s spine and the corners of his lips lifted. “You know, you’ll get better faster if you sleep.”

“But I wanna stay awake with you,” Hinata whined, lazily beginning to trace designs on your shoulder. The world was so cruel.

“I’ll be here when you wake up,” you said, barely above a whisper. Hinata grumbled a nonsense of a response and you chuckled lightly. You fell silent for a long enough period that Hinata began believing you fell asleep before him until you asked, “can I tell you a secret?”

“Yeah,” Hinata yawned, snuggling against your chest. “I love secrets.”

Silence enveloped his apartment again and Hinata almost dozed off.

“I think I’m in love with you.”

He blinked himself back to consciousness while the words rolled over in his mind. He froze. The fast paced rhythm of your heart was the only source available to keep him grounded as his foggy brain worked to unpack your words.

Love?

He glanced up to meet your nervous eyes paired with flushed cheeks. He stared in disbelief while you continued to patiently wait for his reaction. This better not be some sort of fever induced hallucination.

“No one’s ever said that to me before,” he said, eyebrows creased. Aside from his mom and Natsu, obviously, but he figured you’d know what he meant.

The corner of your mouth lifted into a hopeful half-smile. “Well, I’m honored.” Your touch was gentle as you brushed the hair back from his forehead. He subconsciously leaned into your touch with a wondrous stare and his eyes scoured your face for his answer.

Except you were the answer.

“I’ve never been in love before, but…” He struggled for the right words-any words-settling on what he could piece together at the moment. “I feel like things are better when you’re here. Like, I can do anything I hope to and more. I just feel happier when I’m with you and it’s easier and everything makes sense…” He wrinkled his nose. “Is… is that love?”

You cradled his fevered cheeks tenderly. “I think that’s for you to decide Hinata.”

He nodded to himself. “Okay,” he said determinedly. “Then yeah. It is, I love you, (Y/N).”

“I’m glad,” you smiled, looking at him with an affectionate stare that set his heart ablaze. He took a deep breath before disappointedly letting his forehead drop to your chest.

“Fuck, I want to kiss you so bad.”

You let out a bubble of laughter, rubbing your thumbs tenderly against his cheeks. “We’ll make up for it plenty when you’re feeling better.”

He tried to hold back a smirk, but failed. “Fine.”

“Now go to sleep,” You ordered, planting a quick peck to the top of his head.

He grumbled half-assed as he situated himself more comfortably, but Hinata was all talk at this point. His eyelids were heavy with sleep and his heart hummed with contentment. He was in love. A smile dusted his lips as he began drifting off.

Maybe being sick wasn’t so bad after all.

*******************************************************************************************

You narrowed your eyes suspiciously at your boyfriend across the couch chowing down on take-out sushi. Hinata’s eyes were glued to the television’s screen, his hand alternating between shoveling food into his mouth and rubbing mindless circles on your shin across his lap. Things were comfortable, easy, perfect some might even say.

Too perfect.

“Why aren’t we fighting?”

Hinata turned, cheeks stuffed with food and eyebrows raised with surprise. Under normal circumstances you’d consider it adorable, but you wanted to be serious.

He swallowed with a wince before raising an eyebrow. “Did something happen?”

“No, but we’ve been dating for a while and we haven’t had the big fight.”

“We fight all the time,” he placed his plate on the coffee table with a roll of his eyes. You huffed because he clearly wasn’t on the same page. “Just yesterday I was pissed because you left an empty container of milk in my fridge.”

“It wasn’t empty.”

“There was a dribble. That’s not enough for-” He put up a hand and took a breath. “Not the point. Point is: we fought right?”

“That was hardly a discussion.” You waved him off. He had angrily brought it up, you kissed him sorry, and he forgave you. Hinata didn’t know how to hold a grudge and all you had to do was buy him more milk.

“Okay, a few weeks ago then. You fell in the toilet because I forgot to put the seat down.” He nodded confidently. “You woke me up in the middle of the night for that one.”

You shuddered at the memory of being shocked into full consciousness by falling into a pool of your own piss. In your shocked state you may have chosen violence and decided to pick a fight with Hinata at three in the morning, but it was well deserved.

“Okay, but that’s not what I mean.”

“Are you sure?” He raised a brow. “Waking up with my girlfriend on top of me and slowly realizing she’s threatening to end my bloodline kind of feels like a fight.”

“Okay, that’s-” You pinched the bridge of your nose and ignored his amused smirk. “I’m talking about relationship ruining fights.”

He tilted his head, clearly not following you.

“Like, you insult me using some secret I’ve only divulged to you and I leave crying with no self-esteem.” You explained with exaggerated hand gestures and his nose wrinkled. “Or I walk in on you having an explicit affair with Kageyama, or maybe you get drunk and I over hear you talking with-”

He put both his hands up, “back it up. What the hell was that last one?”

“An explicit affair?” You blinked a few times and cocked your head to the side. “With… Kageyama?”

“Yeah that’s what I-we’re gonna unpack that later.” He palmed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Anyway, why would any of this happen?”

“Because that’s what always happens.” You answered honestly. Maybe you sounded like a pessimist, but that was just the reality of the world. At least, you had never seen it work any other way. “So just… tell me how it’s going to happen.”

Hinata looked crestfallen at your statement and the dejected look in his eyes made your heart sink to your stomach. You closed your eyes, waiting for him to question your sanity, but was taken back when he crawled forward to rest his head on your chest.

“If I ever hurt you like that,” he mouthed against your collarbone. “I would never forgive myself.”

Your heart raced and you brought a hand to card through his unruly locks, nodding to acknowledge his words.

“Don’t overthink,” he said, kissing your neck softly. “If we’re good then we’re good. Maybe that’s just how it’s meant to be.”

Your lips curved into a small smile and you nodded again. You let yourselves just exist with him for a while. Heart’s beating in unison while you twirled tufts of autumn through your fingers. His lips dusting across your neck as he whispered loving affirmations against you. And maybe he was right.

Maybe it was just meant to be.

*******************************************************************************************

Hinata moved expertly around his kitchen preparing breakfast, sneaking glancing at you perched drowsily beside the stove adorning one of his larger shirts. Obviously it wasn’t the first time he’d seen you like that-hair mussed, eyes heavy with sleep, in only his clothes-but it still warmed his heart when you existed so casually in space. Like you belonged there.

His lips curved into a smile as he cracked several eggs into a heated frying pan. The dull thudding of your heels hitting a cupboard mixed with the sizzling on the pan for the background of your comfortable silence. Even without conversation his life felt brighter in your presence and he was thankful his apartment was such a convenient location for the both of you.

You yawned deeply, rubbing the sleep from your eyes and finally focusing on him. Hinata selfishly wished you could be with him more often. The days he woke up without you were the coldest.

“What are you staring at?” You slurred with another yawn.

Hinata shot you a lopsided grin, “my beautiful girlfriend.”

You side-eyed him with an amused smirk, “kiss ass.”

Hinata slid the eggs onto a couple plates before going to stand in front of you. You raised a curious brow, but weren’t given enough time to voice a question before he pressed his lips to yours. His mouth curved into a smile against yours-another reason he loved you being here so often was it meant more of this.

Your hands cradled his face as he appreciated that you still tasted like mint from his borrowed toothpaste this morning. Another subtle way he’d nudged himself into your life he realized, toying with the bottom of his shirt you were wearing.

“What’s this for?” You asked, sliding your hands over his shoulders and hooking them behind his neck.

“I just love you,” he replied earnestly. Your fingers laid a scorching touch as they teased the baby hairs on his neck, sending a shiver down his spine. Hinata took his time with languid kisses-he could kiss you a million times and the hunger for more would always linger.

Your breaths were heavy when you pulled back to place your forehead against his, eyeing him with pure affection that set his heart ablaze. “I love you too, Shoyo.”

He trailed his knuckles down your cheek and relished in the way you leaned into his touch. How had he gotten this luck? Hinata placed a tender kiss on your forehead, temple, cheekbone, tip of your nose, and finally on your lips.

“You should move in.”

Hinata’s eyes widened in shock at his own question because that had been the last thing he’d planned on doing this morning. Well, the suggestion was out there and it’s not like he wanted to take it back...

You blinked several times as you processed. “With you?”

“Ideally.”

You furrowed your brow while mulling it over and Hinata counted his heartbeats to stay grounded. Worst case scenario you say no and things are awkward for a bit. Best case scenario he takes a large step forward with the love of his life.

Oh god, he should’ve planned this better.

“Okay.”

“I understand,” Hinata sighed. “It was totally random and I shouldn’t have expected-did you say yes?”

“Yeah,” your cheeks flushed and you bit your bottom lip to fight down a smile. “I mean, I’m here most of the time anyway, right?”

Hinata nodded mindlessly before a face splitting grin covered his features and he scooped you off the corner. You squealed while he spun you around with a bright laugh, interrupting any of your comments with a passionate kiss. While you were busy tangling your fingers into his unruly hair he glanced toward his bedroom’s door.

There was probably enough time to celebrate.

*******************************************************************************************

“She’s beautiful,” you said in awe, cradling the swaddled newborn in your arms. She was sleeping soundly, tiny breaths leaving her partly open mouth. The baby looked too fragile for this world, features too small and delicate to be realistic.

She was amazing.

“Well, she’s our daughter,” Tanaka’s chest puffed up proudly. He sat beside Shimizu on her hospital bed with an arm hung loosely around her. “Obviously she’s going to be perfect.”

You wouldn’t fight his dramatics; he deserved to be happy today.

“What’s her name?” Hinata breathed. Seated beside you he leaned heavily against your side to observe the baby.

“Sayori,” Shimizu yawned. She and Tanaka had deep bruises under their eyes, and you smirked knowingly down at the sleeping demon in disguise.

Hinata hesitantly moved his hand toward Sayori before planting it back on his lap. You raised a brow, reaching over with the hand not helping cradle Sayori’s head and grabbed his forefinger. Hinata looked at you panicked, but relaxed as you guided him toward Sayori’s small fist that pressed gently against her pink cheeks.

When she instinctively wrapped her fingers around his forefinger his eyes widened and he whipped his gaze to you. “She grabbed my finger,” he whispered.

“They do that,” you smirked, a frenzy of butterflies attacking your stomach as he stared at Sayori wondrously.

“That’s amazing.”

“Okay, stop using my kid as a way to feed your baby fever.” Tanaka huffed. Shimizu elbowed him in the stomach and a warmth trickled up your face when his words hit you.

“What’s a baby fever?” Hinata asked, raising an eyebrow at you. “Is it dangerous?”

“No,” you stumbled over a reply that wouldn’t make the situation incredibly awkward. “It’s when you, uh, want kids.”

“Oh,” Hinata shrugged, bouncing his finger to play with Sayori’s hand. “What’s wrong with eventually wanting kids?”

“That’s not-”

“No, it means you want a kid now.” Tanaka emphasized by smacking the hospital bed. “Like, go home immediately and make a baby level now.”

Hinata blinked a few times before his face lit up red, “oh.”

You nodded awkwardly and both of you remained quiet while Shimizu chastised Tanaka in the background. One of you should probably deny the baby fever thing… right? You glanced over to Hinata, but his eyebrows were furrowed as he stared intently at Sayori.

“Okay, Sayori needs to eat soon, so I’m kicking Hinata out.” Tanaka announced.

Hinata didn’t put up any fights and you passed Sayori back to Shimizu, making plans to see each other again soon. You offered your services for future babysitting with Hinata’s vigorous agreeing behind you and they were more than grateful for it. Regardless Tanaka shooed you out when Sayori began wriggling in Shimizu’s arms.

As you and Hinata made your way to the metro that would bring you to your apartment complex the air between you was heavy. An obvious awkwardness that was harder to ignore the longer you walked together.

“I’m not surprised their baby ended up looking so cute,” you laughed, filling the space with nervous chatter. “Shimizu is really pretty.”

He nodded, looking up at the cloudless sky thoughtfully. “Do you think our baby would be cute?”

Your heart rate quickened at the idea. It wasn’t like you’d never thought of it, but talking about it outloud was a completely different monster. “I think it would have pretty great genes.”

He nodded, furrowing his brow at the sidewalk ahead.

Hinata wasn’t an idiot. Neither of you were ready for something like that. Several nights ago you’d decided to get drunk and attempt making meat buns-you’d nearly set the kitchen on fire. That doesn’t scream parent material.

On a larger scale, Hinata had just been selected for Japan’s Olympic team. There just wasn’t time for something like that. No, a baby wasn’t realistic.

However...

“What’s our apartment’s pet policy?”

He turned to you with a raised brow, “probably an extra fee and a weight limit. Why?”

You smirked mischievously at him, “want to get a dog?”

His jaw dropped. “Oh my fu-can I name it?”

“Only if I get to pick the breed.”

“Well then, what are you waiting for?” Hinata grasped your hand and yanked you toward the closest metro station. “Look up the closest pet store and let’s go!”

You chuckled, allowing him to pull you toward a random station that probably wouldn’t lead you where you needed. It would work out in the end. Things always seemed to fall perfectly into place with HInata.

*******************************************************************************************

Hinata glared across the roll of wrapping paper at the small puppy crushing the end of the tube, tearing edges of red and white striped paper with its sharp teeth. Hinata tugged it out of the pup’s mouth, but that only encouraged the behavior as it leapt forward to chew with more vigor.

“Can you grab your son?” Hinata waved the roll around, letting the Shiba Inu chase the end that Hinata held just out of reach. “He’s making this more difficult than it needs to be.”

You paused your typing at the dining table and giggled at Hinata’s antics. After closing the laptop you jogged over to scoop the puppy up, flipping him over in your arms to rub its belly. The puppy let its tongue hang out and wagged its tail vigorously at the attention.

“Oh, Deku, are you giving your dad a hard time,” you cooed down at the puppy, lifting him to look him in the eyes with a furrowed brow. “That’s not very nice.”

Hinata rolled his eyes fondly at your pathetic attempt of scolding while Deku licked you on the nose. Just several months old and he already knew how to manipulate people with his cuteness.

“I bought our bullet train tickets,” you said while nudging him the roll of tape he’d started looking around for. “Natsu called me earlier. We decided that you and I should get there around 3.”

Hinata tore a piece of tape off with his teeth while he held the wrapping paper still around the boxed pair of rollerskates with his foot.

“We have to stop by Tanaka’s place before we head out,” Hinata wrinkled his nose at his poor wrapping job. “Noya’s visiting for a while and he wants to meet Deku.”

“Of course,” you smiled as you held a chew toy above Deku’s face so he could nibble on it in your lap. “We have some presents for Sayori, anyway.”

Oh yeah. You had split the present wrapping in terms of difficulty, so you had the pleasure of wrapping weirdly shaped toys while he was left with boxes. Somehow, his still turned out to be a disaster.

He could hear Natsu’s complaints already.

“The train doesn’t leave till one, so we should have plenty of time.” You stated once Hinata taped the final present, completing his small present tower. Deku wriggled himself free from your grip and immediately attacked the empty wrapping paper roll.

Hinata smiled absentmindedly as he watched Deku hold the tube still with his small paws as he gnawed the cardboard. He felt you crawl over, lying your head onto his lap as your eyes followed his to watch your dog-son together. He felt at peace, running his fingers through your hair while Deku wreaked mischief nearby.

He felt like he could never get happier than this, and he never wanted it to end.

“He really is a troublemaker,” you snorted as Deku dragged the tube across the living room proudly. “Gets it from you.”

Hinata rolled his eyes and pinched your cheek. “It’s because you let him do whatever he wants.”

“Do not!”

He chuckled, taking his time tracing your features. The curve of your cheekbones, the dip of your lips, the bridge of your nose-everything he’d kissed into his memory by now but still couldn’t get enough of.

Hinata’s heart burned bright as he ran his knuckles along your cheek, “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” You smiled softly, leaning subconsciously into his touch.

“I mean… I really love you, (Y/N).” Hinata grabbed your hand and brought it to his lips. “I think this is it.”

You met his stare for several moments before your cheeks reddened. “Oh.”

Hinata nodded, pressing a loving kiss to the back of your hand. “I just-I always want you with me and if it’s not you in the end then… then what’s the point?”

Your mouth fell slightly open and he felt your hand flex in his grasp. He assumed he made a mistake-said too much too fast-but his chest was so warm and full and it was hard to reign in his emotions when he got that way.

A smile blossomed across your face and it eased his anxieties when you held his cheek. “You’re it for me too, Sho.”

He blinked several times as the words rolled over in his mind. “Wha-really?” He twisted himself so he could look you in the eyes, begging for you to be telling the truth.

You nodded shyly, your face crimson. “Yeah. You have been. I’m not… I don’t think I’d be able to love anyone else ever again.”

It felt like he’d been hit by a train at your confession and he pressed his mouth against yours before he’d even processed the statement. Your content hum against his lips was enough to drive him insane.

“Well, I’m going to love you forever.” Hinata promised with a dopey smile. “So don’t even think about that.”

You snorted, but nodded anyway. Hinata glanced down at your lips again with hooded eyes and started leaning forward, but was rudely interrupted by a damp cardboard tube hitting his forehead.

He glanced up exhaustedly at the Shiba Inu puppy panting obliviously at the both of you, waiting patiently for the love and attention he knew he deserved. You pushed Hinata off to grab Deku, but he jumped into a play bow and jolted back when you reached for him.

Hinata smiled dazedly as you chased Deku around the apartment, juking around furniture to attempt to throw the puppy off-course. He had never felt so complete than he had in that moment because he realized that this was it for him.

It was you. It was him. It was a troublemaker dog. And it was a promise that you’d be together forever.

And that was pretty damn perfect.

[hallowxiu]

A Chance Meeting

pairing: human!mammon/demon!gn!mc

word count: 5.6k

summary: Never one for fate, you run into Mammon for a second time, albeit in a less than ideal scenario.

a/n: tw: there are mentions of pocket knives and mugging in this one shot.

part two of the demon!mc and human!mammon series. 

part one

“Wow,” Satan comments as he steps into the kitchen, looking around at the disarray of all the dishes on the counters and in the sink. “This is the eighth day in a row you’ve been on cooking duty. And for all meals too, what did you do to piss off Lucifer so bad?” A sheepish smile formed on your lips and you can hear more footsteps coming towards the kitchen. 

“You’re on cooking duty again? I miss Lucifer’s cooking!” Asmodeus stomps his foot and there’s a pout on his lips. You roll your eyes in response, but you didn’t exactly blame your younger brother. Your cooking wasn’t… the best. It certainly wasn’t the worst by any means, but it also wasn’t something you’d want for a week straight. 

“Ah, well, you better get used to my cooking for the next several months. It’s my punishment.” You felt like crying on the spot. Too much cooking, way too much cooking. And to keep Beelzebub fed for so many days? That within itself was a punishment. Satan quirked an eyebrow at your news. 

“What in the Devildom did you possibly do?”

“I uh, well, you see…” You didn’t want to explain this to your brothers, especially the two of them. They were quite ruthless when it came to gossip. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be our role model? No wonder he’s stricter with the punishments.” There’s a cheeky grin on Asmodeus’ face and his eyes twinkle with amusement as he tries to piece together what you must’ve done. 

“Then again, he favors you most, so your punishments aren’t that bad in comparison to ours.” Satan chimes in where Asmodeus left off. With a sigh, you decide to tell them. You knew they’d never leave you alone if you didn’t.

“I snuck off to the human realm.” 

Silence.

Yeah, you should have expected that. In fact, you were. “Oh, well, yeah, that’ll do it.” Is all Asmodeus says before leaving the room. “Make something good tonight! I’m hungry, but don’t make it so oily this time! My skin is starting to suffer because of you!” You shake your head at Asmodeus, though you make the mental note anyway. One less person angry with you would be ideal, after all. You pause when you notice Satan still lingering by the entryway of the kitchen. 

“What’s up?” You ask while you open the fridge, your eyes scanning for potential ingredients. You had no idea what to make; you exhausted your options after the second day. It’s a miracle you’ve managed to make it this long already. 

“Why do you want to go to the human realm? To my understanding, you were never the type before that showed any particular interest in humans. I was told that it was Lilith and Belphegor’s route of interest.” Leave it to Satan to be the most curious. You were hardly surprised, after all, Satan was the only one who was never an angel, the only one who never met Lilith, and the only one who never experienced first hand the shit show that went down the day leading to everyone falling. You knew the other brothers rarely talked to him about their previous life, and you wondered if that ever upset him. However, being the doting older sibling, you didn’t like the idea of Satan feeling left out. If anything, he got all the details from you. 

“I wanted to know what Lilith liked about humans so much, why she was willing to put everything on the line for one.” You answer your brother honestly. “Belphegor as well, I was hoping maybe that’d help me get closer with him. I know you don’t know from experience, but he wasn’t always this hostile and bitter. I’m not sure if the others told you, but he also adored humans just as much as Lilith. The two of them frequented the human realm together all the time.”

Satan seems to be soaking in the information like a sponge. You’re sure he’s grateful for the new information and while you knew he’d never tell you, he hated feeling left out with everyone. Maybe this would help him feel closer with the others. “I did not know that, although I suppose that would make sense. Beelzebub tells me a bit about Lilith and Belphegor every now and then. He always looks a little depressed when talking about them, so I assumed Belphegor changed compared to before.” You nod your head to Satan’s conclusion. “Did you find what you were looking for?” Images of the white-haired man suddenly flood your brain and you fight off a creeping blush that threatens to spread on your face. Did you find what you were looking for? You found something, but that doesn’t exactly answer the question. 

“I don’t know.” You answer honestly once again. “I had only been down twice when Lucifer busted my ass. You know how he can be.” You sigh while putting containers of various ingredients on the counter. “Honestly, this is a pretty mild punishment for what I did.” Satan scoffs in response. You knew he’d disagree with anything having to do with the eldest brother. “That being said, I would like to go back.” Satan’s green eyes look at you in curiosity. You? The second eldest going against Lucifer? Now that’s something you don’t see every day. “I met a human there,” you try to tread carefully, “and we didn’t get off on the best foot.” 

“So?” The blond looks at you with a head tilt. “Why would you care whether or not you got off on the wrong foot with a human?” You supposed it was hard for a demon to understand why this would matter. Then again, you were a demon and you didn’t even understand why this mattered to you. “Please don’t tell me you don’t know again.” He groans from your silence. “This is hardly interesting at this point. If you’re going to get in trouble with Lucifer, you might as well make it something good.”

“Sorry my life is too boring for your standards.” You snort while prying off a lid. “But it’s the truth. He was nice enough for a human.” Cute too, but Satan didn’t need to know that. 

“Well.” a sigh leaves your brother, “keep me updated if you end up going back. Not that I find this interesting or anything. I just like pissing off Lucifer.” You chuckle to yourself once the other leaves. You thought his thinly veiled attempts of keeping track of your personal life was cute, even if he’d rather die than admit it. A sigh leaves you once you bring your attention back to the dilemma in front of you. Right, you’d have to get through this first. 

You’re on your bed, fingers drumming along the back of your D.D.D case. You were bored out of your mind and done with cooking duty for the day. It was late into the night and most of your brothers would be asleep by now, so why weren’t you? An annoyed breath of air escapes you and you turn on your side. You can’t get that damned kid out of your head. Had he put some kind of curse on you? You thought the thought was nothing but that at first, a silly thought, but now that you can’t even sleep because of this mere human, your sleep-deprived state thinks it might be a little more serious than a passing thought. 

You push yourself to sit up. You rub at your eyes groggily and you internally debate whether or not you should return to the human realm. The odds of Mammon being out and about were extremely slim, especially since the hour over there would also be ungodly. You were anxious for some reason, your body wanting to get up and start the day despite it being only a quarter past three in the morning. You were never one to believe in fate or get worked up over it, but your body was in panic mode and you had little to no idea why. You weren’t the type to get anxious over nothing either, and you thought you knew your body well enough as it was, but it seems you were mistaken. With a sigh, you close your eyes and prepare yourself for the future lecture you’d be sure to get. You already knew where you planned to go. 

The air was cold, biting at your skin as you found yourself standing in the middle of the empty streets. You were back in the city you had visited the last two times, though something seemed… off. You couldn’t place as to what, but it was enough to send alarms throughout your body. You walked down the streets, for once regretting that you didn’t bring a jacket. Did demons tend to become more sensitive with each time they traveled to the human realm? You never remembered being this cold before. 

Your eyes scanned over the closed stores, not a single soul out on the streets. You didn’t realize that even the city got this empty at night; you were expecting at least a few people here and there. It’s when you’d been walking for about ten minutes that you heard a commotion from one of the back alleys. Your eyebrow quirked and you paused in place. Should you get involved? As a demon, you didn’t want to meddle with humans too much, not if they weren’t Mammon or if you weren’t needed. Besides, what would your reputation turn to if you were caught helping humans in need whenever they were in trouble? Just keep going, that’s what you ended up telling yourself. 

“Oi, whaddya think you’re doin’? Get your dirty hands off me!”

Okay, fuck that. Scratch every single thought that was previously in your head; it’s up in flames now. You found yourself rushing towards the source of the noise with your eyes blown wide as you frantically searched for the human you hoped wasn’t the one in trouble. “Mammon?” You shouted into the night. Every nerve was going off and you were just barely keeping your demon form back. You heard Mammon calling out for you and it kicked you into overdrive. You’re by his side in a second, pulling him away from a group of three men. “What the hell is going on here?” 

“These annoyin’ assholes are tryna steal my money! A man can’t even walk home in peace without gettin’ mugged! Can ya believe that shit?” Still, you didn’t miss the way he inched closer to you as he anxiously glanced between the three of them. 

“I thought your job closed in the evening?” You asked incredulously as you managed to put space between Mammon and the strangers. 

“I have two jobs! Ya ever tried livin’ in a city? Do we even need to be discussin’ this right now?” Your eyes caught a glimpse of something shining and you abruptly moved in front of Mammon when noticing it was a pocket knife. 

“We only planned on roughing him up a bit.” The man with the weapon explained, a smirk on his lips as he took a step closer. “But since he got his friend involved to make things more complicated, I think we’ll have to do a bit more than that.” You weren’t the least bit scared, but you needed to keep in mind that Mammon was a human and that the boy could easily get hurt if things went wrong. 

“Get a job like him and you won’t need to mug people for the holidays.” You deadpan, Mammon gasping behind you.

“Are ya tryna get us killed? God, ya shoulda just kept walkin’!” Your eyebrow twitched in annoyance but you choose to ignore him for the time being. Did humans always have to be so ungrateful when they were in the middle of being aided? 

Realistically, there were a few ways to go about this. The obvious and easiest one involved you shifting into your demon form, but then you’d have to kill three humans and scar Mammon. The cons were outweighing the pros, no matter how fast the situation would be resolved. The second option would be to fight them in your current form, which wouldn’t be too much of a problem as your strength wasn’t in question, but you’d still more than likely end up killing the three humans and traumatizing Mammon. He’d also probably want to call the police. Too much of a hassle for you. 

Finally, you could just… scare them. They’d run away, Mammon would be safe, and no one would end up dead. The only con would be if Mammon ended up seeing how you planned on scaring them, but that was your last option and you didn’t have a ton of time to come up with any others on the spot. “Mammon,” you turned your head slightly so that you could see him, “stay where you are, okay? Don’t move and don’t get in front of me.” If you could do this with him standing behind you, that would be the ideal situation. When he nodded his head in confirmation, you closed your eyes and let out a sigh. The three men were advancing slowly, thrown off by your calm demeanor. It’s when you opened your eyes again that you could feel your face begin to shift and transform into something else, a form a demon only takes when their aim was, to put it bluntly, to scare the shit out of humans. 

Naturally, when seeing your face, the three men dropped their weapons and ran, yelling and screaming the entire way until you were sure they were gone. Just as fast as you had transformed your face, you averted it back to its original form, turning around to face Mammon. “Are you alright? They didn’t hurt you, did they?” Now that you could properly analyze him, you had noticed he was covered with dirt and scratches, but other than that he seemed to be free of any major injuries. The man’s dazed as you looked him over, your hands pulling at his clothes and running through his hair to make sure you didn’t accidentally miss anything fatal. 

“They just roughed me up a little, that’s all. Ya know, grabbin’ my hair and shit and throwin’ me on the ground. All that fun stuff.” You could tell he was shaken up, but other than that your human seemed to be in good health. 

Wait. Your human? Why did you think that? It’s fine, just ignore it, it was probably just a slip-up. You’re panicked, after all, there’s no need to worry-

“How’d ya scare them off like that anyway?” 

“Uh, I showed them a bigger pocket knife.” It was a lame excuse, but it’s what you had to work with. 

“Oh, okay.” You’re thanking everything in the universe that he didn’t question you further on that. At the same time though… 

“You really should question things more. Who knows what could gobble you up out here. How’d you even end up in this situation? Did they tell you to follow them?” You couldn’t help but mother hen him. Even though he admitted to being alright, and that it checked out, you were still worried over this fragile little human that needed your help and protection at all costs. Yes, that’s it. You were being generous with your time and helping a human out, that was all it was. He would owe you, that was for sure. 

“What-- are you seriously grillin’ me right now? What happened to not victim blamin’ and shit, huh? They didn’t say shit to me! They just came up on me like I was a plate of steak and they were all starved dogs!” Interesting comparison, you note duly. “Next thing I know, I’m gettin’ dragged into some shady ass alley and they’re tryna steal all my shit! The joke’s on them, I’m flat broke anyway. They would have killed me and still walked away with jackshit.” That did little to ease your concerns. It amplified them. 

“How are you still alive?” It was a question for yourself, but based on Mammon’s facial expression, you said it out loud. 

“I’ll have ya know I’m great at self-defense! I didn’t need ya runnin’ to my aid like I was some damsel in distress or somethin’.” There was a red tint to his cheeks, but you weren’t sure if that was because of what just happened. 

“Right.” You sighed and crossed your arms over your chest. You glanced at the time on your D.D.D, ignoring the fact that Mammon was sending your phone a glare. Right, probably because I made up that lie the other day. You needed to get back home; should Lucifer find out you left yet again, he would have your head on a stick. At the same time, however, you didn’t feel comfortable leaving Mammon alone after he nearly got mugged. “Where do you live?” Consequences be damned, you weren’t letting anything else happen to this human. 

“Huh?”

“Where do you live?” You repeated yourself as if it were a normal question to ask someone outside in an alley past three in the morning. “You don’t think I’m letting you walk home alone after all that, do you?” There’s a sly grin on your lips when Mammon begins to practically have a temper tantrum over your words. “Why are you so upset? I’m trying to make sure you don’t get mugged again. You could at least thank me.” Why were humans so ungrateful and complicated? “The quicker you stop throwing a complete fit, the sooner we get you back home.”

“I am not a child!” 

“I never said you were.”

“You’re implyin’ it!”

“I’m doing no such thing.” 

You decided to dial back the teasing in case he pops a blood vessel. With a sigh, you turned around on your heels. “Alright, alright. I’ll leave you alone now. Just be careful and keep your guard up.” There was no way in hell you were going to leave him alone. If anything you’d just follow him in the shadows until you knew he was safe and sound. Stalkerish? Yes, possibly, but the right intentions were there.

As you began to walk away, a timid hand reached out and grabbed at your wrist. “Alright, fine. You can come with me, but don’t misunderstand. I’m not scared or nothin’, I’m just doin’ this simply so you’ll leave me alone.” A lopsided grin forms on your face when you look at his cute expression. Yeah, you were in trouble. 

The walk was mostly filled with silence, the two of you strolling along side-by-side as you kept an eye out for any more potential threats. Mammon seemed less anxious now that you were with him, and that put a part of you at ease. The walking came to an abrupt stop and you looked up from the ground to view an apartment complex that you assumed Mammon lived in. “This your place?” It looked like you’d be able to get home before Lucifer found anything out after all.

“Yeah.” He’s rubbing at his arms awkwardly as he lingers outside. “Uh, thanks for, uh, helpin’ me out and whatnot.” 

“Of course.” You knew there was something he was holding back based on his posture. “What’s wrong? Did someone follow us?” You turned around to quickly scan the area, though nothing came up. 

“What? No! I just, I was wonderin’, if-- look, it’s late out, yeah? And it’s cold as fuck and ya don’t have a jacket on, so, I don’t know, did ya maybe want to, possibly spend the night?” You froze in place, a look of pure shock on your face as you stared at the human. “It’s nothin’ sexual!” He practically cried out in embarrassment. “It’s just to repay ya for helpin’ me out! I swear!” 

You rub at the back of your neck shyly as you glanced around. “Yeah, sure, I don’t mind if you don’t mind.” So much for getting back home early. 

You slip your shoes off once you walked inside before awkwardly standing in the middle of his living room. What were you supposed to do now? You swore in all of your life you’ve never been so awkward before, and not around a human either. “Feel free to sit on the couch if you’d like.” Mammon offers as he quickly grabbed the trash from the coffee table. “I’ll get ya some blankets from the closet, pillows too.” You do as you're told and you sit down to avoid feeling awkward. You look around the room once he’s gone. It wasn’t… bad. Sure, it was nowhere near the size of the House of Lamentation, but it wasn’t awful, either. Pictures of him and his friends were framed on the walls, empty pizza boxes were stacked on the kitchen counter, and empty water bottles filled the recycling bin to the rim. He was a little messy, but then again he wasn’t expecting company, so you decided not to judge him for it. Not too much, anyway. There was a small television held up by a cardboard box across from the coffee table. You had to give him credit for creativity. 

“Sorry that the place is a dump.” Mammon reenters the room with blankets piled up in his arms, as well as a change of clothes for you. “I usually clean up when company comes over, but obviously…” His voice trails off as you take the blankets and clothes from him. 

“Thank you.” You smiled up at him and the red tint to his cheeks return. 

“You’re welcome.” He huffed under his breath before disappearing once again. “Let me find ya some pillows. I have a few extra ones around here somewhere.” He calls out from down the hall. You look down at the clothes he gave you. A baggy plain shirt and a pair of sweatpants. It was better than sleeping in your clothes you supposed. You began to pull your shirt over your head so that you could properly change before Mammon came stumbling back into the room. “I found some- oh god! Oh god, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know you’d be changin’-- I have a bathroom, ya know. What the fuck am I even apologizin’ for? Who changes in the middle of someone’s livin’ room anyway?” You blink and looked over at a beet red Mammon who’s gripping onto the pillows for dear life, his eyes looking anywhere but at you. You didn’t understand the big deal, but then again, humans tended to react strangely to others who were naked or in the process of changing. 

You slowly pulled your shirt back down and looked over at him again. “Sorry.” Is all you have to offer him. 

“I,” it took him a second to recollect his bearings, “ya really aren’t from here, are ya?” 

“No, I’m really not.” 

“Right then…” He shifts on his feet uncomfortably before stuffing his hands into the pockets of his pants. “I brought you some pillows.” He dumps them into your lap before storming down the hall. “I’m goin’ to bed; don’t steal anythin’ or I’ll kick ya to the curb!” You rolled your eyes at his empty threat before grabbing your clothes and pillows. This would count as one of the strangest nights of your life.

You woke up to the sun shining in your face, something you weren’t accustomed to. You rubbed at your eyes sleepily before pausing. No, as odd as it may be to you, the sun was not the thing that woke you up. A sharp poke to your side makes you look over.

Yes, that’s what woke you up. 

You look over from where you were lying on the couch to see Mammon’s foot more or less kicking your side. He wasn’t putting any force behind the kick, but it nonetheless made you raise an eyebrow. “Are you kicking me?” The man paused his ministrations when realizing you were awake. 

“I thought you were dead.”

“What?”

“I don’t know; sometimes people die in their sleep. Was makin’ sure ya weren’t one of them? How would I explain that to the police?” You stared at Mammon in disbelief, the white-haired man growing red in response to your judgmental glare.

“Ya don’t need to be so rude.” He finally huffs out in response and turned around with his arms crossed over his chest. “Listen, I was just wakin’ ya up because I need to get goin’ to work soon and I can’t have ya stayin’ around unsupervised in case ya steal all of my shit and I come back to a cleaned out apartment.” Well, he was certainly blunt with what he was thinking. 

You slowly sit up and grab your D.D.D. You figured it was still early in the morning since Mammon had once mentioned that he worked at the crack of dawn. If you were lucky, you could make it back home before Lucifer would notice. 

And that’s when you remembered that you saw sunshine when you woke up.

With immediate panic, you unlock your phone to look at the time. To your horror, it was nearly eleven in the morning. Lucifer was awake and speaking of the devil himself, you had several missed calls and messages from your brothers, specifically from Lucifer. You bolted from where you were previously resting as Mammon watched before he stumbled back from your sudden movements. “What’s goin’ on?”

“I gotta go.” You quickly said as you scooped up your clothes and rushed towards the door. Clumsily slipping on your shoes, you turned back to him. “I’ll return your clothes to you another day. Make sure you don’t get mugged again on your way home. If you need to, buy some mace or pepper spray or something.” Before he could respond to your advice, you’re out his front door and running down the hall. You were so so screwed.

Screwed hadn’t even begun to cover it. You showed up in the clothes a human lent you, reeking of a human, still drowsy as you had just woken up not long ago, and just overall completely disheveled. On top of that, you knew Lucifer was awake, but you had hoped to arrive home at a time where he was out with Diavolo and you’d be able to shower and change before your inevitable lecture, which might have gotten you off a little easier.

Except that’s not what happened, as before you even unlocked the front door Lucifer swung it open. Now you were sitting in his office as Lucifer silently paced around his room. This had been going on for thirty minutes. You could tell your brothers were waiting on the other side of the door, trying to see if they could hear anything. You wanted to tell them not to hold their breath, but you were too nervous to move and unable to take your eyes off your eldest brother. 

“I thought I told you not to go back to the human realm.” You quickly looked away when Lucifer locked on to your gaze. “Look at me when I’m talking to you; I will not repeat myself.” Hesitantly, you found yourself looking back over at him. “Answer me.” His tone was that of a warning, and you knew at that moment you were on thin ice.

“You did.”

“And yet I found your room empty last night, and your D.D.D nearly unreachable.” You opened your mouth to speak, but Lucifer raises a hand to keep you silent. “And then I found myself thinking, that out of all my siblings, you couldn’t have been that stupid to return to the human realm after I told you to stop.” You shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, and you lean back against the couch you were sitting on. You tried to shrink yourself, but that didn’t make Lucifer any less intimidating. “And then I thought, ‘Lucifer, don’t be so hard on them, maybe they needed a fresh breath of air. You can’t accuse your siblings of being up to something whenever they’re out of your sight. Surely they aren’t that bad.’” He quickened his pace as he circled the room. “But then after two hours you didn’t return, and something told me you yet again disobeyed me and returned to the very place I warned you not to go. Tell me, was watching Lilith and Belphegor suffer because humans not good enough for you? You were never a sibling I had to worry about before. You always listened to me and you helped me keep everyone in line. Why is it that now I have to keep my eye on you?” He stopped abruptly and rubbed at his temples. 

You felt irritation stir deep inside you, though you bit back what you wanted to say. You knew Lucifer was getting worked up, and if you started an argument now, it wouldn’t end well for anyone involved. “I’m sorry.” Keeping the peace seemed like a better option for you at the moment. You knew what battles to pick, and this was not one of them. “I shouldn’t have lied to you and snuck out--”

“You came back in the clothes of a human.” Lucifer seethed. “You smelled like a human. Do you have a human lover? Are you seeing a human?” He looks at you with wide eyes, the demon looking like he was on the brink of insanity. “I will not watch someone I love fall because of humans. Not again. If you’re seeing a human then forget about it. It’s over.” 

“I’m not involved with a human, Lucifer.”

“Then why are you wearing their clothes? Why do you smell more human than a demon? You were gone for an entire night!” You flinch when he raised his voice and he noticed, the demon then trying to dial it back somewhat. He never liked arguing with you even when you were the one in the wrong. Perhaps it was one of the perks of being the favorite? “If you were hunting humans you wouldn’t be gone all night. If you were just looking around you wouldn’t be gone all night! Tell me, what were you doing? Who were you with?” You swallow nervously and averted your gaze. Getting Mammon in trouble, and with Lucifer of all people, was not what you wanted to do. “I will not repeat myself. Who--”

“I’m not telling you who I was with.” This wasn’t usual for you. You didn’t talk back to Lucifer, you didn’t tell him no, and you certainly didn’t argue with him. But you knew if you gave him Mammon’s information, the human that you tried so desperately to save last night might be put in danger once again, but this time by your brother. It wasn’t a situation you wanted to get involved in, so you’d try and prevent it as best as possible. 

“Pardon?” There’s a look of shock on his face, and you could almost hear one of your brother’s gasps from outside the door. 

“I’m not going to tell you who I was with last night. Why would I? So you can kill him?” If looks could kill, you’d be dead right now. 

“So it’s a man.” 

You groaned at your brother’s response. Typical Lucifer. “Lucifer, I already apologized for going without your permission, but I’m an adult, and I’m not going to give you every little detail of what I did when I was in the human realm.”

“It’s the way you think that that suffices as an apology.” He states in disbelief. “You need to learn to stay in your place.”

“And where’s my place?”

“If you were smart, you’d learn quickly.” He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m not going to ask again. Who is he?”

“I’m still not going to tell you.” You knew Lucifer would go to any length to protect those closest to him, and if he deemed Mammon as a threat it would most likely end with the human getting wiped from existence. You could see the anger just barely restrained behind his eyes, the demon shifting into his demon form without even realizing it. 

“If that’s how you want to play, then we will play it your way. You are forbidden from ever attending the human realm again.” You blink several times before rising from your seat. 

“And who are you to make that decision?”

“Along with that, you are to stay in my sight until I decide you can be trusted on your own again. Lord Diavolo doesn’t approve of random trips to the human realm, and when he finds out that you’ve been making day trips there, you’ll suddenly find yourself with lots of free time on your hands.” You paused. You hadn’t thought of that. You knew, although Diavolo was pushing for realms to reach peace with one another, that he wouldn’t approve of a demon taking unauthorized trips to the human realm. 

“But--”

“No. We’re finished here; there’s nothing further to discuss.” You knew his words held truth by the expression on his face. You watch wordlessly as Lucifer leaves his study, leaving you alone in the room with just your thoughts.

[mourntheantagonist]

Happy Valentine’s Day Everyone!! It’s Finally the Day to share my piece for the @harringroveheart-on !! (If you didn’t already see it posted on ao3 yesterday)I went with the prompt: secret admirer!! enjoy some flangst and have a wonderful day whether you celebrate the holiday or not!! ❤️

Fortunately

read on ao3

***

Billy needs a job.

He’s two months fresh out of the hospital but that doesn’t matter. The local pool was closed for the winter and Neil was adamant that he get out and find work as soon as he was able to walk, despite the fact that he could only do so for only short periods at a time.

And he’s forced to take what he can get. January wasn’t the best time of year to be looking for work in Hawkins. He told himself he’d apply at any place with a help wanted sign displayed in their window. And he did. Application after application. Stellar fucking resume. The only problem was that not many people were looking to hire on the guy who looked just minutes away from death each time they saw him. Didn’t want to put the guy with the hideous scars and the sickly frame in front of customers. Though, they’d usually let him off with the same similar speech about how he “just wasn’t what they were looking for.”

Luckily for Billy, there was one place that was just as desperate as he was. Li’s Kitchen. The local Chinese restaurant that had just needed to make several layoffs to keep themselves from closing. They quickly hired him on to wash dishes in the back because he was ready and willing to work for minimum wage. Making just $3.35 an hour, it was enough and at least it got Neil off of his back.

So he’d haul his ass into work every day on the dot. Walking the full half-mile distance through snowy paths to the restaurant since the Camaro was still out of commission. Trudging along, praying he didn’t slip because his ribs were still fragile and just a simple impact of a good fall could break them again. The walk was simply exhausting. By the time he’d enter through those double doors and set off the bell hung above, he’d be completely out of breath and exhausted and his shift hadn’t even started yet. But fortunately it was just washing dishes. How hard could it be?

Apparently. Pretty fucking hard for a guy who could hardly stand up straight. The heat radiating from the hot steam of the water making him lightheaded almost instantaneously. The boiling hot water against his arms and hands sending him back to those days flayed out in the sun as the ultraviolet rays burned through the skin. The liquid dripping from his face that he couldn’t differentiate from steam or sweat taking him back to the sauna. Feeling his insides heat up and burn like fire inside his gut. Trapped in a prison that was his own body. He just wanted to crawl into a bucket of ice.

His only saving grace was that this time it was winter, and he wasn’t actually flayed. Just overheated and weak. He'd take his breaks behind the restaurant digging his feet into deep snow and letting the chill breeze cool him down. Lighting up a cigarette to get his body to an equilibrium of hot and cold. But the good feeling only lasted as long as he stood outside, immediately getting the same sick to his stomach feeling as soon as he walked back in. Hunched over the sink in the kitchen just trying to move fast enough and stay standing.

He figured he was lucky enough to get the job, that he couldn’t afford to disappoint, because then he’d be entirely out of options. Unemployed and still stuck under his father’s roof on Cherry Lane, this time accompanied by a deeper rage. If Billy didn’t have a job to get to, Neil would have no reason to hold back anything. No reason not to leave bruises or cuts. But it was getting harder and harder as the days progressed. Never enough time in the day to rest and recover enough to brave the next one. He was running on borrowed energy and excessive amounts of caffeine.

There came a moment when he nearly passed out into the sink full of porcelain plates. His breathing became shallow as his vision got blurry and dark. His head spun and his balance faltered and he needed a fucking drink of water.

One of the servers caught him just before he was about to go down. A man older than him but not by much. Same build as him before the accident but easily with an additional five inches on him. Billy was probably at least ten pounds lighter now that a bulk of his muscle had wasted away in that hospital bed. Making him easy to catch.

“You look like shit hargrove.” is what the man says, but Billy barely registers it because everything is muffled. The sounds of running water into the metal sink being the loudest noise he can hear. The man tosses one of Billy's arms over his shoulder and hauls him into the break room. Billy’s doing exactly zero of the work. Letting his legs fall limp and his feet drag against the tile floor. He sits him down in one of the metal chairs and hands him a small cup of water from the jug. “Drink you’re dehydrated” he says, tilting the bottom of the cup upwards so that it’s forced into Billy's mouth and down his throat. “The dinner rush is almost out, I’ll take care of the rest of the dishes, you just stay in here and try not to pass out again, sound like a plan?”

Billy nods his head and drinks the rest of the water in the cup before letting his head fall into his hands and his eyes fall shut as he tries to regain his composure. Cool himself down and slow his heart rate.

By the time his coworker — Zachary, he remembers — comes back into the break room he’s better. Not quite ready to get back to the sink and the hot steam cloud that comes with his job, but better.

“When’s the last time you’ve eaten kid?” Kid. Sounds really odd coming from someone who could be no older than thirty.

“I had toast this morning.” Billy hadn’t actually been eating much lately. Not finding the time in the day to sit down to have a meal in between work and recovering from said work. His hours conflicted with family dinner so he was left to fend for himself. Neil made it very clear that what was in the cupboards did not belong to him. So all he had to his name was a single loaf of bread and a jar of peanut butter.

“Well guess what. It’s closing time and you’re not leaving here without a meal. So go sit down at one of the tables and pick anything you want from the menu.” Does Billy have pride? Yes. But is his stomach turning and his mouth watering at just the thought of some orange chicken? Also yes. So instead of arguing with him about how he can take care of himself, which is debatable at this point, he just says thank you and finds himself a table in the corner. He doesn’t expect Zachary to follow him all the way there and sit down right across from him.

“Don’t worry about paying. My dad will cook it up for free.”

Oh right. Zachary Li... The owner’s son.

And suddenly things went from awkward to outright uncomfortable for Billy. Because he was sitting here eating dinner with another man who would be footing the bill. Sure, Zachary was just his coworker and in his mind the exchange had absolutely no weight to it, but to billy it was so fucking heavy. The thought of Neil barging in to see the display and not giving two seconds to read the situation before he started throwing punches. Because it didn’t matter if it was a date or just dinner with a coworker. If it looked a certain way, then that’s how it was.

But the other thing was he couldn’t just get up now. Not without an explanation. So he sucked it up and said he’d have the orange chicken, earning a scowl followed by a laugh and a nod because of course he’d order that and none of the authentic chinese food dishes. But then he ordered the same thing because they both have fallen victim to american colonization.

And chef Li made a damn good orange chicken.

And this one did not disappoint. But it’s not like he really had the chance to taste it since he was too busy inhaling it. Finishing his entire plate before Zachary had even made a dent. And Billy was slightly embarrassed by it. But zachary said nothing. Just continued with his own meal without acknowledging that Billy had scarfed his own down in no time at all. Making other dry conversation with Billy and constantly refilling his water glass with the pitcher every time it got below half full.

When he’s just about finished is when chef Li brings out a small plate with fortune cookies sitting on top, one for each of them. They each take their own and crack them open.

“What’s it say? I got an inch of time is an inch of gold for the thousandth time. I swear elizabeth is getting lazy with these”

Billy looks down at his, and can’t help but laugh.

“A beautiful, smart, and loving person will be coming into your life.”

Hahaha. Hilarious.

“Well then we better hope that these things come true. Though I have a lot of time and have not seen any gold fall into my lap yet.” he laughs and pops the cookie into his mouth, Billy does the same. “Hey dad, you gonna open one?”

“Sure.” he says. Pulling one from the container in the back and breaking it open quite aggressively. “Allow compassion to guide your decisions. Boring.”

They both just laugh. But then Zachary gets this weird look in his eyes. “Hey dad? What if Billy made the fortune cookies instead?”

“Who would wash the dishes?”

Zachary just shot him a look. Yeah, Billy's medical condition and clear exhaustion didn’t go unnoticed by the staff. That must have been what that look meant.

“Read that fortune again, Dad.”

He looks down at the slip of the paper in his hand and almost instantly tosses it to the floor.

“You’re a pain in my ass Zach. alright then Billy, you available in the mornings? I can have Elizabeth show you the ropes tomorrow and if you’re any good you won’t have to wash dishes anymore. That will be my ungrateful son's job.”

“Hey-“

“No ‘hey’ nothing. Have compassion, remember?” he swats Zach with the towel that hung over his shoulder.

Billy just stayed silent for the whole exchange. Only nodding his head when asked if he was free in the mornings. He wanted to tell them to fuck off. To tell them he could do his job perfectly fine. A bold faced lie, but still. However, he also recognized that he couldn’t continue the way he was going. He was three shifts away from an ambulance ride to the emergency room, and that would just piss off Neil further.

So instead of speaking up, he silently agreed, and suddenly found himself walking the same distance he did every day, this time at seven in the morning when the rest of his house was still asleep. Another bonus. Less he had to see Neil, the better. And he’d be home in time for family dinner, the only meal he was welcome to join. And as much as he hated sitting across the table from his Dad, Susan's cooking served as a pleasant enough distraction.

Liz gladly showed him how to make the cookies. Constantly expressing how much she hated making them and is happily giving up the job to billy. That didn’t make him feel too great about it.

But then it really wasn’t bad. Just tedious. Slightly boring and mindless. Made his hands ache after a couple hours of folding the fortunes and squeezing out the batter, but it was ten times less painful than doing the dishes. He got to make them while sitting down at a table before the place even opened. No crowded kitchen or hot running water. The only heat he experienced came from opening and closing the oven, and that only happened for seconds at a time.

And the best part.

He got to make the fortunes.

Typing out several sheets of sample fortunes on a typewriter, cutting them into slips using the paper guillotine. It was definitely strange they never bothered to check his work. They had way too much trust in a guy like Billy to write fortunes. Free will to throw anything in there.

Did he ever veer away from the script posted to the wall? No. But the fact that he could was so funny to him.

He never once considered he would actually want to throw something else into those fortune cookies, until that first tuesday in the middle of his shift right as they opened for lunch and he saw a familiar figure enter through the glass doors into the restaurant. Bell chiming behind him. Craning his head upwards so he could get a closer look he recognizes Steve, picking up a to-go order still wearing the dark green family video vest. Steve didn’t even notice him. Just grabbed his white paper bag, dropped the bill on the counter, and walked out the door. Flashing a smile at Liz who was up running the counter.

But Billy, he saw Steve. He stared at Steve for the duration of his time in the store because he was totally and completely whipped. Totally entranced for long enough that the cookies he was folding had already hardened, and Zach was giving him a weird look when Billy visibly shook at the sound of the bell chiming for the second time, pulling him from the trance.

“So harrington, huh? He’s your fortune?”

Billy got all wide eyed and jerked his head to the right to look at him. Completely zoned out and unprepared to defend himself, instead just stuttering out a string of nonsensical “I”s and “no”s and “it’s not”s. Failing miserably to get the lies past his tongue.

“Relax dude. I don’t really give a shit. Elizabeth, however, might. Girl doesn’t stop talking my ear off about you.”

But that just goes in one ear and out the other. Billy still continues to stutter out as best of a denial he can but his heart is racing, his stomach is churning, his palms are sweating, and the cookies are burning!

“Shit.” it’s the first full sentence he’s been able to get out. Rushing over to the oven and pulling out the hot pan of nearly completely blackened circles.

And Zach is just standing there laughing. Waving the smoke out of his face as Billy tries to blow out the miniature fire he caused on one of the cookies.

“Still gonna try and deny it?” he says.

“Fuck off. Seriously.”

Zach just backs away. Hands in the air. “Okay, okay. I’ll mind my own business. Lover boy.”

Billy promptly tosses one of the finished cookies at his face. “Whatever you think you saw. Keep it to your fucking self, alright?”

“Got it. Loud and clear.” But he’s still fucking giggling and Billy is currently contemplating murder. Eyes darting to the array of knives in close reach. Shakes the feeling. Killing the boss's son probably wouldn’t look good on evaluation.

Did he tell anyone? No. Did he tease billy relentlessly about it every fucking day. Of course he fucking did. Especially on days Steve walked into the restaurant for a to-go order. Nudging him in the arm with a little “Guess who’s here?” in a sing-songy voice.

And to think Billy thought having someone know and not crucify him would be a good thing. He'd rather he just hate crime him behind the restaurant instead of the constant, and I mean constant, ribbing.

Eventually moving on from teasing behind the wall of the kitchen to suggesting he go out and take the payment to actually pushing him out the swinging doors to do it. “Talk him up Hargrove. Put on the moves.”

There were no moves. But there was a conversation. A good one. A nice one. They just talked about themselves and caught up. Not really seeing much of each other once he was out of the hospital. Only having seen Steve in passing on days he’d bring max by for visiting hours. But they never actually talked much during that time. He’d come up to the room with her saying “Thought it’d be nice to see another familiar face.”

And it was.

Billy was not paying much attention to this conversation. Answering Steve's questions and asking his own, but he was definitely distracted by how close their hands were to each other, both rested on the counter, supporting themselves. If you asked Billy after the conversation what they talked about, he could only recall two things. One; he works at family video, not really substantial. And two; he said he looked good.

“You look good Billy.”

Yup, Billy was completely gone.

So maybe the constant teasing wasn’t completely terrible. Especially now that he’s given him such a stupid stupid stupid idea that he’s one hundred percent going to go through with because it’s about fucking time he wrote some fortunes of his own. He had several typed out and ready to be placed into a cookie whenever they received another call for an order for ‘Harrington.’ The first one was innocent enough. Pulled straight off the list of sample fortunes.

“You always bring others happiness.”

Just something simple. He just saw it on the list and it made him smile. Thought it would be nice to see Steve smile too.

The next few were similar to that one. Pulled straight off of the list but tailored specifically toward Steve.

“You are working hard.”

“Have a beautiful day.”

“You look pretty.”

But that last one was different. Because on the back of the last one he wrote in ballpoint pen.

- The cookie maker ♡

And that’s when it became a thing that they were both aware of. Now it was a romantic gesture and not just an act of kindness or a series of coincidental fortunes. Now steve was on the lookout for who made the fortunes at Li’s kitchen, but at the same time trying to keep the mystery alive so that the fortunes would keep coming.

Billy started writing out his own.

“I like your hair.”

“You have a terrific ass.”

“Somebody’s got a crush on you.”

Zach wrote that last one.

Then they got deeper.

“You make me happy when I don’t think that’s possible.”

“You make the pain go away.”

Steve never failed to blush at each and every fortune with the signature heart on the back.

But it was dragging on. And Steve was getting impatient. Started to ask around, eventually learning that robin had seen Elizabeth Li making them one time.

Elizabeth Li is sixteen. Absolutely not.

And now he feels bad for letting it drag on this long. Taking himself to the restaurant to let her down gently. When he walks through, Billy is standing behind the counter. Confused because he didn’t usually order on Wednesdays, and especially not this late in the day.

Was that a weird thing to know?

“Do you have an order to pick up?” Billy asks.

“No. Not today. I was actually hoping I could talk to Elizabeth, is she around?”

And Billy's heart just sinks to the floor. The slight smile that was on his face now completely gone and shattered to pieces.

“Yeah. I’ll go get her.” he says, with a heavy heart, disappointment clear in his voice.

He sends her out to the front and lingers in the back, ear pressed to the door trying to listen in like some creep.

“Look, elizabeth. I’m really flattered and I appreciate the fortune cookies, but you’re way too young for me. I’m sorry.”

Shit.

Is Billy supposed to be worried or relieved?

He can’t even see her face but he knows she’d be giving him her death stare right about now.

He can hear her say it through clenched teeth and he shouldn’t find it so funny but it is.

“Yeah. Okay, sorry about that. I’ll definitely stop doing that. Have a good day Steve.” And she just walks away from the counter and Billy barely jumps backwards in time to not get a door slammed in his face.

“You better fucking fix this Hargrove. I am not going to go down for this for you.”

Zach had just walked into the kitchen from the break room. Chef Li and the rest of the staff are just minding their own business.

“What did I miss?”

Elizabeth is all up in Billy’s personal space. Inches away from his chest looking up at him from her height of just five feet and three inches.

“Steve fucking Harrington thinks I’m his little secret admirer.”

Her face is red in anger but Zach’s is red from laughing so hard.

“Now that’s fucking funny.”

“If you don’t tell Steve, I will. I covered for you out of the kindness of my heart, but I’m not that kind.”

“Isn’t that the truth.”

“Shut up Zach!”

Zach was laughing. Billy however, was suddenly not. Head now bowed, sighing heavily.

“I can’t do that.” It was a quiet and sudden change of tone that altered the mood of the situation entirely. The only people who could hear were just the three of them because the sound couldn’t overpower the noises of chopping vegetables and the clanking of pots and pans and the sizzle of cooking meat.

“Why not?”

“Fuck you. You know why.”

“Well what was your plan Romeo?! Were you just never going to tell him?” she threw her hands in the air like he was being ridiculous. The only thing that was ridiculous was that he ever went through with it in the first place.

“I don’t know. Okay? I don’t fucking know.”

Zach came up from behind him and offered a reassuring hand to his shoulder. “Look dude, my little sister is a bitch but she’s right. You have to tell him. I’ll have your back when you do.”

“Tomorrow.”

“What?” Billy jerks his head back down to look at Liz.

“Tell him. Tomorrow.” Her arms were crossed and she clearly wasn’t taking a no for an answer.

“Fuck the both of you. My shift is over.” Billy pushed past her and out of the restaurant. Leaving his jacket behind and walking home through the cold weather. His converse getting wet from the slushy snow, soaking through to his socks making him even colder all over. He’s internally freaking out and his heart would be beating out of his chest if his nervous system wasn’t operating at a decreased rate due to potential hypothermia.

He can’t even think. Just kicking his feet against the wet pavement letting the breeze take him over. If he dies, he doesn’t have to tell him.

Headlights pass him by as he slowly walks the distance home, nobody caring about the guy who cheated death just months ago inching closer back to that point instead of further away. Nobody stops to offer him a ride or even check to see if he’s okay, and he’s not even sure if he even wants to make it home. It would be preferable to just fall asleep in one of the bushes outside than having to make his day even worse by introducing Neil into it. Sitting at a dinner table, making nice and pretending like everything that was going well for him won’t come to an end twenty four hours from now. All the joy of making those little fortune cookies and just imagining the look on Steve’s face every time. The look he knew for sure was one of happiness despite never seeing it because it wasn’t a coincidence Steve’s lunch orders became more and more frequent.

But in his peripheral a set of headlights did seem to slow. That was either a sign he was meeting his savior, or potentially his kidnapper. Honestly at this point they are the same thing.

“Billy?”

You have got to be kidding me.

“Hey Harrington.” His teeth are chattering and his voice is shaky as he says it. Is it the cold? Or are his nerves finally beginning to work at the worst time possible?

“What the hell are you doing out here?”

“Walking home.”

“You’ll die out here.”

“If only.” He says it under his breath but Steve still hears it. Letting the car come to a complete stop rather than the slow pacing he was doing before.

“Get in. I’ll take you home.”

Billy just waves him off. “I’ll be fine on my own.” And he continues walking at his slow pace.

“I wasn’t fucking asking. Get the hell in Hargrove. Before I drag you in here.”

Billy stops and sighs. Kicking more slush into the air. “Fine.”

He walks around to the passenger side and lowers himself into the seat. Groaning as his body aches from the motion. Steve doesn’t acknowledge it. Just puts the car back into drive and heads towards Cherry Lane. Silence in the car as Billy breathes into his hands trying to warm them up. He’s pale. Looks like he’s never seen the sun before. His face is flushed. Even in the state like this Steve carries the same sentiment from that first conversation at the restaurant.

“You look good, Billy.”

He doesn’t say that. But he’s thinking it.

They eventually pull up to the white house with the screened in porch, and Billy grows visibly tense in his seat. He’s not moving. Just darting his eyes from the clock in the car and back to the house with the lights on.

“Everything okay?” Steve asks. But Billy’s eyes continue to move back and forth as his breathing quickens slightly more as each second ticks by. Showing no sign that he heard the words that came out of Steve’s mouth. He reaches over the center console and grabs his hand. “Hey.”

Billy looks over like a deer in the headlights. Eyes ever so slightly glossy. Clearing his throat he tries to speak.

“Can you take me somewhere else?” He asks.

He doesn’t want to go home. Can’t begin to even think about seeing his Dad today. He just wants to crawl under his covers and go to sleep. Dream of a reality that isn’t his own. Not this fucked up shit show he’s stupidly gotten himself into.

“Where?”

“I don’t know. Anywhere but here?”

Neither of them realize Steve is still holding his hand. Not until he squeezes it tighter, recognizing the pain in Billy’s voice. Not for what it meant but just that it was there. He didn’t need to nor want to know why Billy didn’t want to go home. Just wanted to make it so he didn’t have to.

“Is my house okay?”

Billy hesitates, but nods.

And they turn the car around.

- : -

Billy wakes up the next morning on Steve’s couch to the sound of a microwave’s hum followed by a loud ‘ding’ that echoes off the walls. He just remembers walking through the door of Steve’s house and immediately laying down on the first soft surface he could find. Remembers Steve saying he’d be upstairs if he needed anything before quickly drifting off into sleep without a care in the world.

He went to sleep without a pillow and a blanket, and woke up with both.

Billy rubs away at his eyes while Steve enters the living room from the kitchen with two plates in his hands.

“I made you a hot pocket if you want one.” He sets the plate onto the coffee table before he takes a seat in the chair beside the couch. Billy sits himself up and takes the plate, cooling it off with a quick blow of his breath before biting into it. “You have work today?”

“Yeah, at eight. What time is it?”

“Only seven fifteen. I have to be in at eight thirty so I can drop you off if you want.”

“You don’t have to.”

“It’s seriously not a problem man, and no offense but you don’t look like you’d make the walk from here to there.”

Billy laughs.

“I thought you said I looked good.”

Shit. It’s weird that he remembers that.

But Steve blushes. “Well yeah, just not ‘two mile hike’ good. But you’ll get there.”

“Thanks.”

“Why are you working anyway? Shouldn’t you still be recovering?”

Billy frowns. “My Dad is making me.”

Oh. That’s why he doesn’t want to go home.

The situation is awkward now. Silent as they finish their breakfasts and drive off in the Beemer. Pulling up outside the restaurant fifteen minutes before his shift starts. Billy suddenly reminded of what he’s supposed to do today as soon as he looks at the sign out front.

“Uh, hey. Listen. Come by the restaurant for to-go. On me y’know, as a thank you.”

“You don’t have to-“

Billy cuts him off.

“Yes. I do.”

- : -

When Billy walks into the kitchen in the same clothes as yesterday nobody says anything. Nothing about his undone hair or his or his early arrival to work. Instead he’s met with apologies exiting the mouths of the two Li children as they corner him in the break room.

“We’re sorry about yesterday. It wasn’t fair for us to do that to you. Elizabeth said she won’t tell Steve.”

They were waiting for him to yell, or at the very least get his anger out some way.

But instead Billy smiled. Barely there with just the slight upturn at the corners of his mouth but it was there, so distinct from his natural grimace. “It’s fine.” He says.

Zachary and Elizabeth are entirely confused. Looking in between each other like ‘did you just see what I just saw?’

“What has you so chipper?”

His smile just grew slightly wider.

“Spent the night at Steve’s last night.”

The two’s eyes grew to the size of saucers.

“You what!?” They both said in unison.

“Jesus! Not like that. I just slept on his couch.”

Billy could see the cogs turning in each of their heads. Trying to figure everything out like it was some complicated math problem. “I think I’m going to tell him. Today.”

“Really?”

Billy nodded, threw on his skull cap, and left the dumbfounded siblings where they stood. He had a fortune to write, and cookies to bake.

He was so meticulous this time. Making sure they were perfectly round circles, folded exactly in half. Throwing nonsense fortunes into each one. Avoiding the one sitting by itself on the table beside him. Too afraid to throw it into a cookie, each time he tossed in another basic off the list fortune was just Billy trying to talk himself out of it.

But he inches closer and closer to reaching the point of no return. First by putting in Steve’s lunch order. Next by finally slipping the fortune into a cookie. Next by slipping the cookie into Steve’s bag, and finally at the strike of noon, handing the bag to Steve, insisting he pay for it while Billy continuously denies him. Telling him to go enjoy his meal and stop arguing with him.

When Steve walked out the door Billy thought he could stop holding his breath. But he couldn’t let it out. Thought the anticipation lied with handing the meal to Steve, now feeling his breath caught even more now that he had. It was the anticipation of not knowing. He had to know.

But Steve left with the cookie still intact.

So he had to wait.

- : -

Steve brought his lunch into Family Video. The same thing he always ordered. Feeling a warm sensation in his chest at the knowledge that Billy knew his order. Fried rice and soup dumplings. Robin was there, waiting to mooch off of his food since she never bothered to bring her own lunch, but would also refuse to let Steve buy her anything.

If he didn’t know any better he’d think she liked him.

But he did know better not even to entertain that idea. She was just the girl who liked to eat Steve’s food because that’s just what she did. She’s standing there with her grabby hands, ready to start digging into his rice. She peruses through the contents of the bag and pulls out the plastic containers and the one fortune cookie that he always got.

“Did you let her down easy?” Robin asks, waving the cookie in his face.

“Yes. She was weird about it. But I guess she took it well.”

“Well that’s good. Can I have this one then?”

“Sure. Go for it. I don’t like them all that much anyway. I just like them for the fortunes.”

“Well then let’s see what Steve Harrington’s fortune is today, shall we?”

Robin cracks it open and gently pulls the slip of paper out from inside. Popping the cookie into her mouth as she pulls it taut so she can read it.

Her eyes squint. She pulls it closer to her face, just inches away like she can’t see what she’s reading. Like she’s confused.

“What’s it say?”

“Umm.” She just shakes her head. Mouth still full with the fortune cookie as she passes it along to Steve.

He takes it from her hesitantly, and a look of confusion washes over his face as he reads the words.

“I’m not Elizabeth Li.”

“What?” He says it mostly to himself, because what the fuck?

He turns it over and is expecting to see the same little signature. The vague ‘the cookie maker’ with the tiny heart.

Well the heart is still there.

But it says something else.

- Billy ♡

“Holy shit.”

- : -

It’s a painstakingly long rest of his shift. Doing the same old boring jobs like cleaning up, manning the front counter, and bussing tables when he’d finished the daily batch of cookies. It usually felt like a long five hours, but today it was excruciating. He could feel Zach and Liz’s eyes on him the whole time. Like they were watching intently so they didn’t miss the moment where he inevitably exploded from all the anxiety in his chest.

Billy’s constantly playing out different scenarios in his head. Steve barging into the store and punching him in the face being the one that’s the most prevalent. Occasionally letting himself get slightly hopeful and imagining the opposite.

But there was a third scenario he considered. That Steve just wouldn’t come back at all. Let him down by not even bringing him up. Robbing him of the closure he needs. He’d rather Steve just punch him in the face. That was a kind of rejection he could handle. One that gave him a reason to let go. Not one that left him hanging on by a single thread.

His shift is quickly coming to an end and he’s debating on how desperate he is to wait and linger around the restaurant with his small shred of hope that he comes back. His neck hurts from jerking his head towards the door every time the bell chimed. Hoping to see the boy with the chestnut hair walk through only to be greeted by another local he refused to learn the name of.

He’s losing his goddamn mind and he needs a fucking cigarette.

His shift comes to an end and he clocks out. Escaping to the back of the restaurant behind the dumpsters, lighting up a Marlboro Red and sinking his weight against the brick siding of the building. Feeling himself shiver when the heat of the flame warms the tip of his nose. Breathing in the smoke trying to regain some sense of calm that completely left his body as soon as he handed the bag to Steve. Too many hours on this high alert feeling that he can’t even recall what relaxation feels like anymore. Just accepts the burning in his lungs in the cold outside weather with just the hum of low traffic and the sound dripping gutters as the closest thing he’s going to get to that for the time being.

Finishing his cigarette, he tosses the bud into a puddle. Dragging a hand over his face as he prepares to walk back into the crowded restaurant that would feel completely empty because it was lacking the one fucking person he wanted to see.

He could go see him.

No he couldn’t. The ball already was in Steve’s court.

He opens the door and Zach is standing right there like he was waiting for him.

“What the fuck dude?”

“No. Shut up. Someone is in the break room waiting for you.”

Billy doesn’t get the chance to register his words before he’s being grabbed by the collar of his shirt and dragged and pushed into the room, where Steve is sitting at the table.

Just looking at him. Studying him.

“Look, Steve –“

“Stop.” He cuts him off. Continues to stare before hesitantly reaching into his jacket pocket to pull out what looks to be a ziplock plastic bag. Opening it and dumping the contents of it out on the table all while Billy is left standing there unable to speak, couldn’t even if Steve would let him. The ability to get words out being entirely suppressed by the sight of about ten slips of paper spread out on the table in front of Steve. Steve just looking back down at them and not looking back at Billy. Lost in another trance. He starts moving them around on the table. Moving them away from each other so that none are touching each other and they are all completely exposed. Steve smiles. Gets up from the chair.

Walks over to where Billy stands with his back pressed against the door, holding tightly to the handle for a quick escape. Steve moves so slowly, like he’s forging his plan with each step until their chests are just inches away from each other. Steve’s looking down, away from Billy’s gaze. Taking Billy’s hand in his, causing him to shudder. “You know I rushed over as soon as I could. Thanks for the lunch Billy.” Billy’s just silent and completely still against the door. Steve’s hold on him is loose yet he feels entirely restrained. “I can’t believe it was you.”

“I’m sorry.” Billy practically chokes on the words, prompting Steve to finally turn his eyes up toward him. Seeing how his eyes have grown glossy and his face has turned a pinkish color.

“What for?”

“That it was me.”

Steve squeezes his hand tighter, brings another to Billy’s cheek gently and Billy feels like he’s being suffocated under the touch. Like instead the hand is wrapped around his throat and pushing against his airway. But he leans into it. Steve’s touch is so soft and he lets his eyes fall shut to burn the sensation into his memory.

“Don’t apologize for that.”

His eyes are still closed when Steve moves forward and kisses him. Shooting open as soon as lips make contact and he suddenly stiffens like a board. It’s quick and chaste and he doesn’t get the opportunity to kiss back before it’s over.

“You can’t… you don’t –“

“But I do.”

“This isn’t a joke, Steve.”

“I agree.”

Billy’s left standing there. Rubbing at his lips that were just touching Steve with the pad of his thumb.

“I don’t know what to do.”

Steve smirks, moves back into Billy’s space so his breath is hot against his mouth.

“You could kiss me, asshole.”

Billy doesn’t need to be asked twice.

[wendystales]

Memories - lrh (Chapter Eighteen)

Memories (also on Wattpad)

Chapter Seventeen ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ Chapter Nineteen

I remember the first time I really wanted to see New York. I must have been about 12 years old and was watching a random episode of Friends that was on TV. I saw those flashes of the city between one scene and another, and I thought it was amazing, the great stone jungle.

When I turned 16, my dad gifted me with a trip to New York, not because it was my favorite place in the world, but because it was on sale. There were 10 days where the only time I stopped to rest was bedtime. We went to almost every tourist spot, took thousands of photos and it was definitely one of the best trips I've ever been on.

Now, the city that I once wanted to know and live in, like the characters in Friends, felt like a prison. I wasn't there of my own free will or for a truly irrefutable proposal. I was there out of fear and passion, the most dangerous mixture.

I believe that at some point, a few months from now, I'm going to start loving New York, but right now, I can only feel contempt.

I pass through the arrivals gate, looking at those millions of unfamiliar faces, waiting for someone. I'm looking for a sign with my name or the logo of the Hastings Agency.

I find my name in the hands of a boy a little taller than me. Dark hair and fair skin, he needs sun. In an impeccable suit, but fumbling with his cell phone and notepad.

I approach slowly, able to hear his voice, replaying a million things. He said something about waiting for me to arrive and taking me to the hotel. Something about treating me kindly and not asking questions. I stop in front of him with a sympathetic smile, watching him widen his eyes and quickly turn off his cell phone.

“Miss McGonagall, welcome to New York.” he takes my hand, squeezing it and shaking it quickly. “I'm Edward. I will be responsible for your schedule.” I can't control the smile, noticing him nervousness. In other words, he was my Noah.

“Hi! Yeah, you can call me Marnie, that's fine. I prefer, actually.”

“Oh! Of course.” his cheeks turn pink. “Well, I'll drop you off at the hotel to rest and tomorrow at 8:00 am you should be at Valentino's studio for the rehearsal of the new bag collection. At 2:45 pm you should already be at Chanel's studio, they want to take your measurements and do some color and fabric tests for the fashion show at the end of the month. Then, at 5:00 pm, you will participate in the E! podcast, and I believe that after that you will be free for the rest of the day.” he passes it on to me as we head out of the airport.

“OK!” that's all I have to say.

“Sorry if I'm being nosy, but were you the one who required a lot of work for the next two months? I mean, you have a really busy schedule. If you don't want something, I can try to help.” he flips through the calendar while we wait for a car.

“No! It's OK. I was the one who asked. I was down for a while and I need to get back to work.” I give a slight smile, debating. "Hm, was the doctor I asked for by any chance be marked?"

“Yes! Wednesday at 3pm.” he smiles proudly, making me smile too. Edward seems like a nice guy.

We got into a silver car and went to the hotel. Along the way, Edward answers a few calls, closing in on his tasks. I seize the moment and close myself in my own world. I get my cell phone, turning it on and seeing that tsunami of people looking for me. Missed calls, messages, dm on twitter and instagram, everyone looking for me, but not him.

I lock my cell phone, trying to focus my mind on the new beginning I sought for myself. I admire the city through the car window, trying to find a piece of home there. I feel the phone vibrate in my lap with Kyleen's name, but I just decline the call. In seconds, the screen lights up again and several messages come in, I believe they are hers, but I don't even bother to look. I have no courage.

The car stops in front of the Intercontinental, and just like that, Edward jumps out of the car.

“Your loft, unfortunately, is not ready yet. So you're going to have to stay here for a few days.” he explains, heading towards the reception desk.

I stand behind him, taking in the details of the hotel. Before long, I'm entering a room on the 14th floor, with a beautiful view of the city. The bags are left in the small room before the bedroom.

I smile at my new “Noah” showing that everything is perfect.

“Good! I'll let you rest for tomorrow. Anything, these are my phones.” he gives me a card. "And you can call me at any time. I live near here, I will come in a few minutes.”

“Thank you so much, Edward. You are very kind." Again, your cheeks turn pink.

As he heads for the door, I start rummaging through my bags for pajamas.

“Hm, sorry if I'm not being professional right now, but since I believe we'll be working together in the next few months, I imagine a good relationship is essential, so you can call me Eddie.”

I open an even bigger smile, seeing that Eddie was willing to make a friendship, which is perhaps the thing I need most at the moment.

“Thanks, Eddie!” he smiles and this time he walks away, leaving me alone again.

I go back to looking for a more comfortable outfit, ignoring my cell phone blinking on the table as I muted it. I grab my clothes, heading to a shower and stay there for a long time, letting the water take everything.

When I get out of the shower, I pick up the bedroom phone, dialing my mother's number, I don't want to take the risk of answering any of my cell phone calls.

"Hello?" her lost tone makes me smile weakly.

“Hi Mom!”

“Hi, my love. How are you? Marnie, what's going on? Leah came here to say you left without saying goodbye. I called Luke, but he did not answer me and Noah said something about you being to move to New York, you told me it would be just a month.” I cover the phone, not wanting her to hear my cry, letting the tears fall. "Marnie?"

“I'm sorry, Mom.” I can't control my voice and pretend it's okay.

“Honey, what's going on? You can tell me. Mom will help you.” I realize she wants to cry too, and that hurts me more.

“I needed to do this, needed to get away from him.” the revelation comes out before I can see it.

"He who? Luke? Why? I thought everything was fine.” her desperate tone returns.

“I'm sorry I can't talk.” I close my throat, holding back tears. “I just want to let you know that I arrived well and that everything is fine.”

“Fine? Marnie, just look at your voice, your condition. I saw what you did to the apartment. Honey, things aren't fine.” now she was angry.

“Mom, please just trust me. I know what I'm doing.” Do I? I clear my throat, holding back the emotion. “I just wanted to call to say I got okay. Later we'll talk.” I hang up the phone before she asks anything else.

I head to the bathroom, drying my hair. I notice that yesterday's anger is still in me as I can't face my image in the mirror, refusing to look deep into my eyes.

With dry hair, I go back to my room, thinking about taking a nap, since I haven't slept all night and even less on the flight. I close my eyes, trying to focus my thoughts on something else. I think about that taxi I saw earlier, trying to park. Or people crossing the street without looking at the sign. At the cookie shop I want to see.

I manage to evade Luke's, my mother's, John's, and Noah's voices, giving myself more and more to the sleep that finally came. Far away, I hear someone knocking hard on the door, but I ignore it, as I had the same thoughts yesterday morning. But I wake up when the pounding comes back stronger and Leah's voice enters the room.

“Marnie Elizabeth McGonagall, open this shit now before I drop it and you know I'm capable of it.” I leap out of bed, running to the door.

She can’t be here.

I open the door, revealing Leah with perhaps the worst expression I've ever seen in the world. She was furious, if not more so. As she storms into my room without waiting for an invitation, I quickly look down the hall, seeing a couple look at me startled. I smile awkwardly, closing the door.

“What are you doing here?” I question, still not understanding.

"What are you doing here? And without warning anyone. Fading in the morning. Breaking up with Luke. What the fuck was that?” she screams.

For a second, I see that my amnesia was an issue with my plan. By not remembering my friendship with everyone, I really believed that I just left and everything would be fine. I didn't imagine anyone would cross the country for me, to understand what was going on.

And if Leah did it, it's a matter of hours before someone else does. They weren't going to leave me alone, they weren't going to forget me, and they weren't going to let this story pass. I need to push them away, but I don't know how.

"Go on, Marnie. What the fuck is going on? And if you tell me it's a job offer, I swear I'll fly at you without pity or mercy, and I'll slap the truth out.” she cross her arms.

I consider the last option a lot because I know she can do it. But I won't tell her the truth, that's not an alternative. I want to believe that if I don't back off, she'll see I'm not lying and won't attack me. And even if she tries, I just run away, I'm closer to the door and there's an armchair between us.

"But it is what it is!" I shrug.

“Stop it!” she screams. “Stop lying, Marnie. Everyone. Everyone knows you're lying, so why don't you tell the truth?” she waves her hands through the air.

“Because there's no other truth, Leah. Will I have to draw it for you?” I make the same moves she does.

“Be my guest!” she sits on the couch. I sigh wearily. I haven't slept for hours, I'm angry with myself and the world and now that I thought the situation was resolved and I just had to go on with my life, she comes and messes everything up.

“Why are you here?” I stay upright.

“I do not know! It must be cause you went crazy and disappeared without saying anything. Didn't answer my calls, no one had any answers about what was going on. So I took my father's jet and came to resolve this situation and I don't leave here without an answer at least.”

In the same way I laugh at Noah, I laugh at her, thinking it will fix everything. Leah carries the same expression as her brother, neutral, mocking.

“Why did you break up with Luke?” she asks quietly.

The mention of his name makes me shiver. I notice how my stomach turns and try to ignore it. I wonder if I can subtly extract some information from his state, but I don't want her to think I still care about him.

"Cause I wasn't in the mood anymore." I shrug, walking through space.

“My God, you've actually lied better.” I glare at her. “You know you're in trouble here, I know you better than anyone. I know you are lying and that you are going through some difficult situation. I even have my theories. So you're going to have to work a lot harder to trick me or get me out of here.” she cracks a smile, feeling victorious.

"Oh do you have? What are your theories?” I mock her.

“The first is that you really freaked out with amnesia and you can't handle it. The second is that you can't handle your feelings about Luke, it happened once before. And the third is that someone put some shit in your head and made you believe that everything would be better if you were out of the way.” I feel her gaze burning into me, looking for any reaction.

I let out a laugh, not forced, nervous that she got it right. Leah raises an eyebrow.

“You really traveled on your theories. Sorry, none are right.”

As if by magic, the answer appears to me. The only way I was going to get rid of everyone and go through with the plan without a hitch was to make her hate me. Make everyone hate me, just like I did Luke.

Just considering their hate for me makes my heart ache. But I need to do this. For Luke. For the boys. It's for their success.

“You know, a few months ago you were asked to be in a movie and you didn't take it cause you said you were a terrible actress. Isn't that right?” she gets up again. “Noah told me you said you were doing this for Luke, because you loved him. Marnie, what are you trying to hide?” she comes closer.

I feel dirty because of the attitude I'm going to take. It's low, very low, but I need her to hate me.

"Look who talks about hiding." I give a cynical laugh. Leah looks at me confused. "Don't you have anything to tell too?" she still doesn't understand. “You and Kyleen?”

Hastings freezes. The bitter taste of my act starts to fill my mouth. I’m sorry, Leah. I’m so sorry.

“How do you know?” she takes a step back.

"Who do you think closed the bathroom door on Ash's birthday?" I raise my eyebrows.

“Is not the same thing.”

“It isn’t? Aren't you hiding something from all of us?” I force a smile like hers a few minutes ago.

“No! Cause I'm not pushing everyone away, I'm not telling lies. And if you asked me, I would tell you the truth. Deep down, you know why I didn't say anything. You know my dad hasn't accepted Noah yet, that this is a problem in our family, and you know he wouldn't accept me either. You know that deep down I'm trying to protect both of us.”

“Oh! Do I?” I debauchery more. Right now, I feel horrible when I see your eyes water. I'm so, so sorry.

“I know what you're trying to do and I'm not going to stage it.” she walks past me to the door.

"Didn't you want to talk? I am talking.” Leah turns to me, straining the knife I carried in my chest, letting me see her crying face.

“You're trying to make me hate you.” now I'm the one who freezes. She laughs. “See how I know you? You are very predictable, Marnie. And as much as I know of your intention, I will not allow you to reach your goal. I hope that one day, not too far away, you realize what a big shit you're doing.” she opens the door, going. “Oh, and before I forget, since it's meant to hurt. Congrats, since your little chat with Luke, he's been locked in his room, needing Michael to keep an eye on him.” so Leah slams the door and strikes the final blow.

I bite the inside of my mouth, letting the tears fall. Honestly, I didn't even have the strength to hold back anymore. The rage burning inside me gives way to pain. I imagine Luke locked in his room, lying on the bed, hating me. Hating what we had and what we thought we had.

I walk over to my suitcase, pulling out a package, with the photos I'd taken from the box and the little white box he'd given me. I open it, holding the necklace with his name on it, the one he gave me.

Even knowing what I had to do, I wouldn't get rid of this necklace, I don't have the courage. It was easier to buy an equal one and put it in his hand. What he did to me would be kept with me forever.

““Closed eyes.” he fights.

"I have my eyes closed." I rebate. “Lucas…” I chide him, when I feel his lips on the back of my neck.

“Sorry, I got distracted.” I hold back the urge to laugh. “Closed eyes.”

"If you say it one more time, you'll get hit." I threat.

"How, if you can't see me?" right now, the urge to hit him is so strong that I follow the sound of his voice, trying to kick him. “Hey! No rudeness, otherwise you'll be left without a gift.” the false authoritative tone makes me angrier. “Good girl!”

“Go!” I kicked.

I'm startled by the icy touch against my neck. It's a necklace. Eagerly, I touch the pendant, recognizing the shape. He didn't do it.

“You can open it.” his hands move to my hips, hugging me.

With my eyes open, I run my vision to my neck, finding there a necklace just like his but blue.

“Happy Birthday!” he drops a kiss on my cheek.

I hold the blue quartz, seeing Luke's name engraved on the back. I let a stupid smile spread across my face, glaring at my boyfriend with the same.

"Want to explain why we're wearing practically identical necklaces?"

“It's a little obvious. Couples wear rings and I know what a problem you have with rings.”

“It’s not a problem.” I try to defend myself.

“It's just Alzheimer's. You know, in some people, it starts before they're 70 years old.” I hit him, and he laughs, before he hugs me. "Like I was saying, I know you're not into wearing a ring, so since I already had my necklace, I thought you'd have yours. That way we'll always be close to each other's hearts.” I rest my hands on his shoulders, standing on tiptoes.

"Have I told you I love you today?" I whisper, moving closer.

“Not after 5 pm.” he pouted, looking at the clock on the wall.

I don't know how I managed to kiss him with such a stupid smile on my face.

“Why do I like you, huh?” I question, stealing a little kiss.

“Because I'm cheesy and romantic. And even if you deny it, I know you get attached to it.” he opens a victorious smile.

"Don't ever say 'get attached' again." I beg laughing.

"What is it, bae? That was awesome.” he laughs.

“No!” I scream, laughing.

"What is it, babe girl? Don't you stick to my way of get in?” he keeps teasing me.

I place my lips on yours, determined to shut your mouth and thank you that it works. My mental reminder of “we're late for dinner” evaporates when his hands reach under my shirt. I scratch the back of his neck, pulling him closer.

“We're late for dinner.” he says against my mouth as I start to unbutton his shirt.

“Just say the traffic was like hell.” I suggest kissing his neck.

Luke accepts the idea, picking me up and walking me back to the bedroom."

It's not hard to know that we were late for dinner that day. But I didn't care, I had been given a necklace with his name on it, a necklace that showed how our relationship was getting more and more serious.

I also realize that the two times I got this necklace, at least once I ended up in bed with him. In fact, in both, but only one made it to the end.

“I hate myself.” I say tiredly, going to the minibar to get anything containing alcohol that makes me forget everything.

I call the front desk for two bottles of champagne and the biggest snack they have. I pick up the small whiskey bottles, turning one after the other, as if they were shot. I shake my head, wanting the effect to start faster.

“I hate myself. Leah hates me. Kiki must hate me now too. Just like Noah and everyone else there. Everybody hates me.” I turn the last one over, shaking my head once more. “Luke hates me. Hates me too much.” I comment, hugging the pillow.

I pick up a Polaroid of ours, staring at our happiness marked there. What am I doing?

I throw my head in my hands, lost. I wonder what might happen if I crawl into bed and don't go out for the rest of the month. Probably more people will hate me, but who doesn't hate me now? I mean, just get in line.

Awakened from the thought, when someone knocks on the door. For a second, I wonder who it was, then remember I ordered room service. I walk to the door, feeling the weight of the six small bottles.

My stomach churns and I feel an overwhelming urge to vomit as I land my eyes on the redhead in front of me. Red-haired?

"Bethany?"

[moonbeambucky]

Hey Neighbor (Part 3)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Word Count: 2686 Warnings: none unless you count awkward/cringeworthy moments

Summary: You had a plan and then life came along with one of its own. With your future almost derailed you worked hard to get yourself back on track and finally everything seemed to be going right… that is, until your new neighbor moved in.

A/N: This is a slow burn people so sit tight! A huge thank you to my wonderful beta Sam @buckyofthemyscira​ Feedback is always appreciated!

PART 2 | HEY NEIGHBOR MASTERLIST

You paced in your apartment for a few minutes, debating what you should do. The gift card was a lovely gesture but you can’t accept it, Bucky is a stranger even if he’s your neighbor, and even though he inconvenienced you it would be wrong to take this.

But then again, maybe he really meant no harm at all and it would be rude not to accept this. It certainly would be put to good use.

All of these thoughts raced through your mind as you walked the length of your apartment. The walls truly were thin and you knew Bucky was home, meaning if he heard you come home then he knew you had the gift card. Was he expecting you to thank him?

Fuck it, you’re going over there. You went to the bathroom to make sure you looked alright. You aren’t sure why you cared so much but you quickly brushed your teeth and dabbed a bit of perfume on your pulse points. With a final look at yourself in the mirror you put your phone in your back pocket, grabbed your keys and the gift card and shut your door.

Your teeth were clenched as you made a fist and knocked at Bucky’s door, holding your breath as you heard him shuffle towards the door to answer it.

“Y/N, hey!” Bucky seemed surprised to see you.

His hair was loose, falling on his shoulders. The blue of his t-shirt brought out his eyes, even in the dimmed hallway lighting.

“Hey Bucky,” you replied easily, as if the words fell naturally from your lips. Holding up the gift card you smiled and Bucky mirrored the gesture.

“I see you got it.”

“Yes, thank you. This was really sweet but honestly you didn’t have to do this.”

Bucky lifted his arm to rub the back of his neck, exposing part of his waist as his shirt ran up. Your eyes couldn’t help but catch the deep V line sculpted on his body, making you unconsciously lick your lips. As Bucky spoke you lifted your eyes to meet his again.

“I felt really bad. I didn’t mean to be a shitty neighbor. I’m not really used to this.”

“Having neighbors?” you asked with a giggle.

Bucky smiled. “Not ones so close.”

“That’s the city for ya,” you said awkwardly, looking everywhere else except Bucky.

“So listen,” Bucky began, clearing his throat. “You just got back from class right? If you wanted, how about I make you a cup of coffee? I definitely owe you a lot, even more than the gift card.”

The thought of having coffee with the embodiment of sex on legs made your knees wobble. You politely said you couldn’t impose.

“You wouldn’t be. I was about to make a pot myself, I’ve got a lot of work to do.”

There probably should have been more insisting on your end, saying that you couldn’t come in because you also have a lot of work to do but somehow your mouth had a mind of its own as you agreed to coffee.

You wanted to keep things light, and so as you followed him inside you joked, “How do you get any work done with all that music?” but the moment you stepped into his apartment you wished the ground would open up and swallow you whole.

Bucky’s apartment was a mirror of yours with his bed and couch placed in the same spot against the wall, though it felt smaller with the dark taupe covering the walls, but what really made things feel cramped were the instruments scattered all over the apartment.

Several guitars were hung along the brick wall with a variety of amps on the floor. A large keyboard was laid out on the trunk that served as his coffee table in front of a black leather couch. An electronic drum kit sat beside a large desk, with wires attaching to a device beside his computer.

“Music is my work.”

You were stunned into silence, feeling completely stupid for asking him to not play music when you were home. You wanted to turn around and go back to your apartment where you could shake away the cringey feeling that rooted itself into your bones.

“Ohh,” you managed to squeak out.

“Yeah…” he trailed off, baring his teeth for an awkward smile at your revelation. “But don’t worry about the sound, I went out earlier and got headphones.”

Bucky turned to hold up a bag from the floor and you recognized the name of the professional audio shop.

“I never needed them before. My old landlord had lost most of her hearing so my music never bothered her.”

Bucky turned to the small kitchen counter to start preparing the coffee. He hadn’t offered you to sit, not that you saw a chair, so you stood watching his shirt cling to his muscles as he reached up to open the cabinets. They were different from yours, their honeyed tone showing a little age but not old by any means.

He pulled down a small coffee maker that was clearly made for a single person. You’ve already had more cups of coffee today than that tiny thing can produce in a sitting. Bucky was an obvious bachelor, even if you didn’t know about the revolving door of women you could see it in the way he kept his place.

He had been here just over a month but the apartment looked as if he had been settled in for years. Beside the bag he previously held up were others filled with things that hadn’t been put away. His bed wasn’t made, but the dark blue comforter was mostly strewn over the mattress with just the corner pulled a little too low.

His TV was opposite the bed on a dresser whose bottoms drawers hung open, with a bunched up shirt preventing the middle one from fully closing. Things weren’t dirty, it just needed a good tidying. Behind you was a large bookcase, with each shelf overstuffed with books and graphic novels, loose music sheets spilling out from the top, a few Funko Pops and some other knick-knacks.

“Milk and sugar?” he asked, turning around as one hand gripped the handle of the refrigerator.

You nodded with a smile as you continued to observe his apartment. Above the couch was a large framed poster of the movie Psycho and briefly recalling the conversation you heard this morning you really hoped he was actually talking to his mother.

“Shit.”

You turned around to find Bucky watching you stare at the poster, though his eyes moved to the couch.

“I’m sorry, I should have asked you to sit down,” he said, apologizing for his manners as he moved the keyboard off the trunk and on to his desk. “I don’t usually have people over.”

You both know his statement was a lie; he has people, women specifically, over every night but what he meant was he doesn’t usually entertain.

The couch scrunched under his weight as he sat beside you, handing over a mug of steaming coffee. He warned you it was hot and so you held it as the ceramic heated your skin before placing it on the trunk. Bucky had done the same and so you felt comfortable enough to do so as well, even though asking about a coaster would have been just as simple.

“So you mentioned you’re in school. What are you studying?”

You were aware of how close his knee was to yours as he turned to face you. Nerves made you grab the cup of coffee first, sipping on the still too hot liquid before answering.

“I’m going for my MSW. I’m nearly finished too, I just have this last class before I somehow have to fit a ton of hours for an internship into my schedule which is a little difficult to figure out.”

“You work full time too, right? It must be hard doing both.”

Bucky’s blue eyes were focused on you, deeply staring into your own. All you could do was nod your head in response. He was enchanting, clearly a great listener; it’s no wonder he can charm the world into his bed.

You fell into a conversation about Stark Industries and how you came to work there, going to school part time as you worked to pay the rent.

“It feels like I’ve wasted so much time because of the road I had to take. I keep picturing myself at the end, finally graduating, knowing all the stress and sleepless nights were worth it.”

Bucky watched as the passion you had for social work poured off your lips. There was something deeper than wanting to be handed a diploma, he could see the fire burning in your eyes that you had for this field, something you left unsaid.

“I’m sorry, again, if my music kept you up and distracted you.”

“No, I’m sorry Bucky. I was rushing to class this morning and I probably could have said things in a better way.”

You shared a quick smile with him, bringing the mug up to your lips to mask the way your cheeks wanted to stay pulled tight to cement the smile on your face. Staring at Bucky made you feel giddy and warm all over.

You suddenly realized how long it’s been since you’ve hung out with a man that isn’t Steve. With all your school work keeping you busy you hardly had any time to notice what was missing in your life, not until now where you felt butterflies fluttering away in your stomach. Wow, you definitely needed to get out again.

“So you said music is your work, what do you do?”

Bucky tipped the mug back to finish the last drop of coffee, before smoothing his fingers over his lips.

“I’m a composer actually.”

Well that was unexpected. You definitely judged Bucky too quickly, with the loud music and louder women. Without seeing him you figured he was some punk in a band, who stayed up all night and didn’t give a shit about his neighbors because he wanted to live out the party lifestyle of a wannabe rock star. But as Bucky explained you found out he was so much more than that.

From a young age he was musically gifted, picking up melody and sounding it out by ear as he sat in front of the piano. His mother Winifred had also played and taught him what she could until Bucky’s enthusiasm for playing outgrew the time and knowledge she had to teach him. She and his father George hired a piano tutor who noted how talented Bucky was, especially for a young child.

Bucky’s ambitions grew as he wanted to learn more instruments, guitar, violin, percussion.

“I can’t do horns,” he joked, not having the patience to practice proper breathing for the brass instruments.

Bucky has been composing music since the days you were pining over boy bands, selling his first work to a commercial for an international airline.

“Wow, I feel like the biggest asshole for telling you to stop.”

Bucky chucked at your admission, “It’s okay Y/N, really. I should have realized I’m not in Long Island anymore. I promise to use the headphones for every instrument that I can.”

“Thanks Bucky,” you smiled, sighing a breath of relief although you still felt embarrassed. While trying to lift the weight of guilt you somehow made it worse. “I’m sure our other neighbors would appreciate that too.”

Bucky’s face twisted with concern. “Shit. Have they complained too?”

Your palms covered your face as you shook off your stupidity. Why was this man making you say all the wrong things?

“No, not in a bad way,” you tried to convince him. “Have you met Clint? A bit shorter than you, dirty blond hair.” Bucky shook his head back and forth. “You must have seen his fiancée then, beautiful redhead, Natasha?”

Again, Bucky shook his head. “Well they live above you.”

Bucky cringed at the thought. If you heard all the noise they certainly have as well.

“So it’s actually kinda funny…” you began, telling Bucky that Clint takes his hearing aids out when he was playing. “They’re both really nice, you should say hello if you see them. Plus now I can tell Clint I won our unofficial bet.”

Bucky’s head quirked with curiosity. “Well, he called you the Guitar Hero,” you admitted, watching a smile form on Bucky’s face.

“I don’t just play guitar,” he said proudly.

You smirked, “I know. That’s why I was calling you the Music Man.”

Bucky’s hair blanketed his face as he tipped his head forward to laugh at your nickname. When he sat up again you noticed the crinkles around his sparkling eyes, and the way he smiled from ear to ear showed off perfect teeth, beautifully bright against the beginnings of dark stubble that started to fill in along his jaw.

Butterflies swirled around your stomach like a tornado as your heart rattled against your chest. This sensation was bubbling up the longer you stared at Bucky. Why were you feeling this way? You couldn’t distract yourself, not with a man, especially not this one.

“I get it now, the walls are thin,” he stated, still shining that beaming smile.

Your brain jolts to life again, as common sense starts to combat the small army forming to defend your developing crush. Your brain wins this round however, as you remind yourself the noise wasn’t just about the music.

“Oh yes they are. Our beds are on the same spot on the wall,” you said, raising your eyebrows and widening your eyes to infer what you were talking about.

Bucky’s cheeks blush a deep shade of pink with embarrassment. “Oh… I’m….” He’s too nervous to apologize for what you both know you’re referring to.

“I wear headphones to sleep to drown out the noise.” Great, just keep making it worse Y/N. “But on the bright side, the banshees all sound like they’re enjoying themselves.” Nope, that didn’t help at all.

Fear of saying something even worse had you quickly fumble up an excuse to leave, telling Bucky you had a paper to work on so you thanked him for the coffee and practically ran back to your apartment, dreading every future interaction you would have with him.

Later that night Bucky opened the door for a woman who swayed inside with determination. He offered her a beer and with lust in her eyes Dot licked the neck of the bottle before bringing the top to her lips. Bucky turned away, shuddering with embarrassment at how hard this girl was trying.

He knows what she wants, what they all want but Bucky hasn’t believed in relationships for a very long time. It’s something that works for other people whereas he enjoys the physical connection; release your needs and move on.

Bucky wished he cancelled tonight. He felt… awkward after you left. It made him shift his bed forward a few inches away from the wall. He didn’t realize just how much his entire presence has affected you.  

With his arms caged beside Dot’s head he moved above her, thrusting his hips and checking to see that the bed didn’t touch the wall as his motions rocked it. Her nails dug crescents into his back as she began to cry out in pleasure. Bucky forced his lips against hers, an action she felt in her heart but Bucky just wanted to shut her up, hoping you hadn’t heard her.

Shutting the door behind Dot who begged to stay Bucky went to the bathroom, splashing cold water on his heated skin. His reflection stares back at him but he doesn’t want to look, wondering why his mind has been wandering to places he doesn’t want it going. He dries his face, letting the towel hang over the sink as he shuffles back to bed, staring at the wall for a few lingering moments before he turns over and hopes sleep will come quickly.

PART 4

[unmaskedagain]

Teenage Rebellion

I wanted to do something completely different. And I realized I had never really used Adrien’s character that much. Apart from the standard salt. So I decided to give him a better voice. Test my skills with a new character.

Adrien didn’t know what happened. What snapped inside of him? But he just knew that, one day, while his father was giving him a lecture and laying out demands, a funny little word popped in to his head; no. Then he started to wonder if he could say no. Then he heard Marinette her new internship only allowed her to work so many hours because she was only a kid. Then he heard something magical; child labor laws. He looked them up and was amazed. He wanted to know more; wanted to know what his options were. So he went to Marinette and Nino. Then explained that he had rights. When he mentioned about getting taken out of school, they gave him options of how to retaliate.

           Nevertheless, it would be weeks before he decided to implement his new idea; not daring to yet. When he finally struck, he knew exactly what the final straw had bene.

“You’ll be taking Miss Rossi to the gala next weekend,” Gabriel told his son.

           Adrien blinked, “No.”

           The room went silent. Nathalie and gorilla looked stunned. Gabriel glanced at his son, “What do you mean no. This is not up for debate.”

Nothing ever was, Adrien thought, and that was problem.

“You’re right,” Adrien nodded. “Which is why my answer is still no.”

           Gabriel assessed his usually obeying son. “I’m not asking.”

“And yet my answer is no.”

“And if you could no longer attend that school of yours?” Gabriel threatened. It always worked.

           Adrien shrugged. “Then I will no longer model.”

           More stunned silence.

“Adrien,” Gabriel pinched his nose but was cut off.

           Adrien crossed his arms, “You can’t make me model.” He looked around at his three caretakers. “And if you try, I’ll scream loud enough for every reporter in Paris to hear me. And while we’re on the subject; I read something about child labor laws. You’re breaking them. I’ll scream that too. If that doesn’t stop, if I don’t start working normal kid hours and eating a healthy amount of food,” He threw the last part at Nathalie. She had been instructed to keep him on a strict diet. “I’ll go to the police. CPS. The news.”

           Gabriel opened his mouth to speak again but again was cut off.

“Even if you try to keep me in here,” Adrien added. “It will just look worse. People will question where I am. The Brand will hurt. My friends will look for me. They’ll ask questions. They’ll spread what it’s really like for me. How unhappy I am. My fans will riot. Even more when I finally do get out of here and go straight to the police, a reporter; maybe do a tell-all on Alya’s blog. Oh wait, I already left several copies of that already previously recorded interview that will be released if I don’t show up for class for a few days.”

           The three adults stood with opened mouths. Nathalie was the first to recover, “Adrien, we can discuss this…”

“No!” Adrien glared. “I’m done. You worked me to the bone, starved me, neglected me,” He threw that viciously at Gabriel who flinched, “Attempted again and again to isolate me from my friends. All of which is called child abuse. And now you want to control my romantic interests; tell that shrew Rossi to stay the hell away from me. I will never work with her again. Let me make this very clear. I have evidence of the child labor laws broken. I have video proof the various meals I’ve been served that never once met my nutritional intake. Recordings of various times you threatened me with my removal from school if I didn’t meet various demands and achievement. I have witness testimony from other models, my friends, current and former Agreste fashion employees of my treatment. I have no trouble releasing every last bit of information.”

           Adrien took a breath after his rant. “This is my life. I will live it my way. From now on, one third of every paycheck I earn, and I do know the amounts, will be deposited into my personal bank account. The rest of into the saving account mother set up for me. In fact, I want the last six months of checks deposited the same. I want freedom. And if I have to destroy you to get it, I will. Push me, and I’ll push back.” With that, he spun around and left the room. Gorilla followed after him dutifully.

“What do we do?” Nathalie asked. “About Adrien, sir?”

           Gabriel glared harshly at where his son at stood, “What can we do?” As much as it killed him to admit it, his son had them on the edge of cliff and looked rather happy at the idea of pushing them off. “I don’t look good in prison orange.” He sighed. “We’ll get him back under control soon enough.”

           Nathalie nodded. Neither did she. “I’ll call Rossi and tell her plans have changed.” Everything had changed.

           Later that day, Nathalie presented him with his bank card that she taken at Gabriel’s demand and gave him a stiff nod. He turned with a beaming smile to Gorilla, “We’re getting McDonalds!”

           Nathalie let out a cry of protest but was ignored.

           That day Adrien had his first big mac and fries. It was the biggest meal he’d eaten in months, so his stomach hurt a little, but he couldn’t stop smiling.

           He got a call from his father when he was finished. When his dad immediately began to yell at him about not following his diet; Adrian hung up on him. The blond shook his head. He had warned his father; push and Adrien would push back.

           He looked around and spotted some punk skaters skating down the street. Adrien smirked. Oh, he had an idea.

           Marinette had been thrilled when he called to see if she was free to go shopping with him. Less thrilled, when they wound up at Hot topic.

“Why?” The bluenette whined. “Just why? I have so many ideas.”

Over the last two years, the two had become really good friends. They got even close when Chat Noir and Ladybug revealed their identities to each other. Mostly because they lost their crushes on each other. Marinette on Adrien. And Adrien on Ladybug. It was just too weird for either of them.

“This is what I want!” Adrien smiled as he looked through the band Ts and a lot of nightmare before Christmas merchandise.

“But sunshine!” Marinette pleaded. She started to pull out shirts and accessories that look like they would fit Adrien’s build. “Happiness?”

           Adrien laughed, “Storm cloud. Make my father miserable.”

           Marinette paused. “Happiness.” She nodded. She had wanted to stick it to Gabriel Agreste for years; the rotten bastard.

           The girl ended up approving seven potential outfits from Hot Topic. Adrien bought them all. Then Marinette dragged the boy to other various stores. If Adrien was going to punk rock; then it would be a fashion and, dare she say it, chic punk rock look. Though she did have to drag Adrien away from the piercing salon.

           When Adrien got home, Gabriel attempted to discipline him again but was met with stony silence. Adrien pulled out his phone and played a recording of Gabriel chastising Adrien not being thin enough and that his diet would be limited to 1000 calories a day.

           The blond boy raised an eyebrow, “I can have this trending within the hour. Your move.”

           Gabriel growled and stomped off. He had honestly thought his son had been jesting about the recordings, about evidence, or at very least could be cowed not use any of it. He was wrong, apparently; very wrong.

           When Adrien left for school the next mornings, he caused his father to have a panic attack. Gone was the preppy, sunshine child the world was used to. The fifteen-year-old Adrien wore dark green ripped jeans; a studded leather jacket over a black My Chemical Romance shirt. He wore combat boots and eyeliner. “You were warned,” Adrien told his father on his way out of the door. “Keep pushing though.”

“Oh my god, he’s dead,” Nino said to Adrien when he got to class. “Gabriel Agreste.” He started to pretend to tear up. “You want something for so long. And when it finally happens. You wonder what to do.” He suddenly straightened. “I know let’s throw a party. It will end will a conga line over the SOB’s grave.”

“My father’s not dead,” Adrien rolled his eyes as he took his seat in the back. When Marinette had been moved there, he had follow much to the complaints of Lila. “Though it was a pretty close call this morning.”

           Most people hadn’t recognized him as he walked through the halls of the school. It was a relief to just be normal.

           When the other students arrived, he had gotten double glances. The first was when they said hello, then quickly looked again when they realized something was very, very wrong.

“Holy shit,” Juleka said loudly. The loudest anyone had ever heard her speak. She blushed. “Sorry. You look rocking, Adrien.”

           Rose just kept blinking at him. “But, but, team sunshine?” She whispered. Adrien cooed. The two had been dubbed that by the class after a bad storm came in and all the class got soaked but the two kept smiling and trying to cheer people up.

“Team positive?” He offered.

           A squeak let him know, Marinette had arrived. She looked over him, “What did I do?” She sat went to her desk. “What did I do?”

“Not enough,” Nino stated. “A little bit more. And we could’ve been doing the Cha slide over Gabriel’s grave right now. Step your game up, dudette. Cause you’re slacking.”

           Marinette just closed her eyes and prayed for patience; having boys as her best friends wasn’t easy. Adrien and Nino had become her closest friends, after Lila came and tried to tear everyone away from her. She sort of succeeded. Alya was no longer her friend. Neither was Mylene, Sabrina, Ivan, or Kim. Everyone else in chose to believe the girl they’d known forever over the some chick they just met. Unfortunately, this cause Alya and Nino to break up. Nino was fine with remaining a neutral about whether Lila was a liar, though he thought she was, to keep the peace with his girlfriend. But Alya hadn’t budged and kept harping on the situation; about Nino being friend with Marinette. Nino had no choice but to end things which just cause the girl to get even angrier.

“Group selfie?” Adrien asked. “Juleka, you too. Come on, Rose.”

           The five grouped together, and snapped a picture of Adrien’s phone, “Hashtag: new Look, new me. Hashtag: Smells like Teen Spirit.”

           More gasps were heard as Lila and Alya, their posse, arrived. “What happened?” Lila frowned.

“Got a new look,” Adrien grinned.

           Lila glared. She had been warned that Adrien had gotten out of Gabriel’s control but hadn’t believed it. “You won’t wear that on our date to the gala, right?”

“We’re not dating,” Adrien said bluntly. “I’m not going to the gala with you.” He shook his head. “I’ve told you too many times already, Lila. I will never date you. I don’t like you. I have never liked you. I’m sorry.”

           Lila huffed, “Your father!” She started.

           Adrien cut her off, “Can my ass!” He yelled. “I don’t care. Call it teenage rebellion or whatever. But It’s my life. Get over it.”

No, Lila thought, this couldn’t be happening. Adrien was her ticket in. At the gala she’d be on his arm and get attention from all sorts of celebrities.

           Alya bristled on behalf of her friend, “You don’t have to be so mean.”

           Nino glared back, “He wouldn’t have to be if she could take a hint. No means no.”

“He could give her chance,” Alya continued. “How will he know if he really likes or not if he doesn’t.”

“Because he said he doesn’t,” This time it was Rose who spoke. “Adrien, and everyone else, is allowed to decide that they don’t like someone; that they don’t want to date them. You should respect that.”

           Lila started crying, big fake tears rolled down her cheeks, “I like you so much,” She pleaded. “I know you’d like me too if you got to know.”

           Adrien scoffed, “I know exactly who you are, Lila. And that’s the root of why I don’t like you.”

           At this Lila had to force herself not to glare. Fine, she thought, if he wanted to be like that, then she had another card to play. “Marinette put you up to this, didn’t she? She’s been bullying me. And got inside your heard with all her mean words; that’s why you don’t like me.”        

  Everyone on Lila’s side turned fierce looks toward the Asian girl, accusation on their tongue.

“How could you?” Mylene asked. “You’ve changed, Marinette.”

“Not cool, Bro,” Kim added. He had been crushing on Lila for months and followed her around like a puppy.

“You’re as bad as Chloe ever was,” Alya shook her head. “I can’t believe you’d hurt Lila over your jealously!”

Adrien wasn’t having it, “I. Don’t. Like. You!” He yelled at Lila. “I didn’t like you the moment you first came to this class. It has nothing to do with Marinette. It’s you. You’re the problem. Get it?  Got it? Good.” He looked at Lila’s friends. “Marinette is not a bully. She is one of my best friends; my sister, even. And unlike you, she actually listens to me; what I want. Not pant after Lila’s every word.”

The class blinked, stunned because they never really heard Adrien tell anyone off before.

“Well, who are you taking to gala,” Lila asked snidely, and gave a quick mean look at Marinette.

“His boyfriend!” Nino suddenly blurted. “Ouch!” He hissed.

           Marinette had kicked the glasses-wearing boy’s chair as hard as she could.

           Adrien just went with it. He had come out to most of the class the year before and never made his sexuality a secret; he liked guys, or at least preferred them. His desire for Ladybug had come from his love had for the freedom he got whenever he was Chat Noir. He was happiest as Chat Noir, and seeing as Ladybug had always been present; he thought he’d be happiest with Ladybug. He was only a little right.

“He’s looking forward to it,” Adrien smiled, or at least, whatever guy he could convince to go with him, hopefully would be.

“What were you thinking,” Marinette hissed at Nino as soon as the bell rang ending first period, and they were in the halls.

“What?” Nino asked. “You’re the only who can make an attempt on Gabriel Agreste? Nope. Don’t think so. First best friend gets dips.”

“I don’t have a boyfriend,” Adrien whispered.

“So, borrow Marinette’s,” Nino shrugged.

           Marinette gasped, “I’m not sharing my boyfriend with Blond Wonder over here.”

“What? Can’t take the competition?” Nino asked.

“I’ll end you, Lahiffe!”

“That’s not a no.”

           Adrien laughed.

           Juleka brushed by him, “I can ask Luka if he’s free,” She asked with a whisper. “If you want.”

           The three paused. It was a good suggestion. “Aurore would come for blood,” Their newest friend had the biggest crush on the guitarist.

           The rest of the school had been interesting. Adrien’s photo was trending; though nearly everyone in school had tried to get look at him.

           When Adrien got home from school that day, it was to Gabriel and Nathalie’s angry looks. They had tried to do damage control. But for everything they released, Adrien had been quick to either deny their claims via tweets. Or lease video on Instagram about his new fashion direction.

“This is enough, Adrien,” Gabriel stated calmly. “You’ve gone too far. You will be escorting Miss Rossi to the gala, and this look will never be seen again. Am I understood?”

           Adrien pulled out his phone, dialed a number, and put it on speak, “Hey man, do you still have that video of my dad pulling me out of school, during an important, test to go to a photoshoot?”

“Sure do.” Nino replied smugly.

“What about all the videos I sent you from overnight shoots?” He asked. “Where I worked like all night. Videos that clearly depicts that child labor laws were broken.”

“Saved on several different clouds.” Nino answered. “I can have them online in five minutes. And sent to the police and CPS in ten.”

“Thanks, talk later.” Adrien disconnected the call. “You were saying?” He asked his father. Silence was all he got. “Thought so. I’m taking my boyfriend to the gala.” He turned around. “I’m going out.”

           Gabriel pinched his nose, “He’ll ruin us.”

“No sir,” Nathalie said. “He’ll destroy us.”

           Adrien showed up at Marinette’s room an hour later, with a pleading look on his face and a box of hair dye.

           Marinette took it with a sigh, “Are you sure it’s not me you’re trying to hurt.”

“It’s not permanent?” He offered weakly. “Should last a week, maybe less. I wash my hair a lot.”

           When Adrien came to school sporting bright blue locks, three girls fainted.

“Awesome,” Nino high-fived the former blond. “How’s your dad?”

“Collapsed and fell down the stairs.” Adrien gave a small smirk. At the sight of Adrien’s hair, Gabriel had clutched his arms and just fell. “He was near the bottom so he was hurt too much.”

“Righteous,” Nino said and turned to look at Marinette in her seat, “What part of bestie gets dibs do you not understand?”

           Marinette crossed her arms and sniffed, “Maybe I’m not the one needs to step their game up.”

“What?” Nino gasped. “Oh it’s on!”

           Nino would later met Adrien and Marinette for ice cream, he’d come on the back of some guy’s motorcycle. “Hey,” Nino waved. The dude he was with gave them a stiff nod and a cocky smirk. He was blond with a cool haircut, tattoos, and two different colored eyes. “This is Jace. I know him through my cousin Simon. He’s seventeen. He has tattoos, drives a motorcycle, dress primarily in black and leather, and he’s been to jail. He agreed to be your date to the gala.”

           Marinette and Adrien just stared. Adrien blinked too hard to shake the shock away, “Wow you really want my dad dead.”

           He blushed red. Jace was rather attractive. He was the type who knew just how hot he was too.

“Hi I’m Marinette,” Marinette waved to Jace. “You’re freakishly hot. And if you manage to take out Nathalie too, I’ll be your best friend.”

           Jace chuckled. This could be fun. Maybe Simon hadn’t steered him wrong when he told him to hang out with his cousin if he had the time. He had research Nino and his friends to the last detail, just in case. “Hi Marinette. I’ll do my best to try. My sister Isabelle and my best friend Clary love your MDC designs. They’d kill for them. Won’t even make it look like an accident.”

           Marinette blushed, “Pull this off and I’ll design the dresses of their dreams for free.”

           Jace fought the urge to wince. Failure was no longer an option. Clary and Izzy would hunt him down if he failed. So would Magnus for that matter. He’d been wanting to meet the young designer since he saw Jagged Stone’s latest red carpet look. And then Alec wouldn’t be happy about his sulky husband… even if he turned Jace into a toad.

           Jace nodded and put an arm around the pink hair boy, “Let’s make it count.” The smaller boy blushed. Jace gave him a wolfish grin. “This is going to be fun.”

           The rest of week had Adrien dodging a whining Lila and her attempts at getting her hooks into him in time for the Gala. She had been Akumatized three times over it. A fourth when Adrien had enough and got her mother to come to school and where truths were revealed.

           Alya still refused to budge on the matter. Lila was Ladybug’s best friend after all. She couldn’t be lying, or so she said. Which caused most the class to groan. Marinette didn’t understand. After Ladybug had disavowed the Ladyblog for too many lies, asked Alya to take down Lila’s stories, and even went as far as getting a new fox hero (Juleka); she thought Alya would’ve wised up now.

           Sabrina who had been converted back to light side after Lila’s mom had confirmed they had only ever lived in Italy other than France, said that Alya was probably just stubborn. She would have to admit that she struggled that she turned her back on her best friend, ruined her relationship with her boyfriend, and been a bad friend to most of the class for nothing. It was a hard pill to swallow.

           Outside of school, his dad and Nathalie’s attempts to get him back under their thumb had gotten desperate. The first time they took his phone and his laptop. He had already gotten a prepaid one hidden in his room, once he got back to his room, he texted Marinette and Nino. Second later, a video of Gabriel ranting at his son for failing to be perfect during a photoshoot and threatening to remove him from school had surfaced. It took the media by storm.

           Less than an hour later, someone knocked on his door.

“Come in,” He called from his bed.

           Nathalie stared at him for a moment. “You posted the video.” She sounded like she still couldn’t believe it. “We didn’t think you would.”

“Now you know better.” Adrien stated. “My things.”

“This will hurt the brand,” Nathalie said as she place his phone and laptop on the bed. “Hurt the business. Stock prices will from the bad press.”

           Adrien put down the book he’d been reading and leaned forward, “Then maybe you and dad will finally learn this is a game you won’t win,” He said. “I’ll see Gabriel Agreste’s entire legacy burned to ashes before I give in.”

“…Your mother would’ve done the same,” Nathalie whispered and was gone from the room before Adrien could say anything else; door closed behind her.

           The day of the Gala, Saturday, Adrien had go to Marinette’s first thing in the morning. He left suit his father had laid out for him the day before in the fireplace. It wasn’t lit but he knew his dad would get the message.

           Marinette had designed him and Nino suits for the dance. Adrien had made sure to add his two best friends to the Gala’s invite list months ago. The host of the Gala’s daughter was a big fan of the blond; it took an autograph or two to get two more invites. Normally, Adrien would wear a classic black suit of his father’s design.

           Adrien wanted something different, something to make everyone talk, something to go with his pink hair. When he told Marinette this, she got a spark in her eyes, and he knew he’d get exactly what he wanted. And he did.

           The pink-haired boy arrived to the Gala on the back of a motorcycle to the stunned faces of the Paparazzi. The valet who took the keys from Jace had looked excited at parking the bike though.

Adrien wore a slim fitted glittery sliver suit, that under the right light reflected a rainbow look, with a black tie and shoes. Jace wore ripped jeans, tight sleeveless undershirt, and his leather jacket. His tattoos on his neck was plain to see and he had on a eyebrow ring he didn’t before. Jace wrapped his arm around Adrien and escorted him inside. Just as the paparazzi suddenly got their senses back.

The pair found Marinette and Nino by the refreshments. They walked right by an angry Lila who looked ready to kill. She’d come with Alya, and how his father managed to swing that on such short notice, Adrien didn’t know. Nino wore a black and green suit. Marinette wore a sparkly midnight blue pixie dress. Marinette’s boyfriend Connor had arrived not after. Connor brought his friend Cassandra who seemed interested in Nino.

           Adrien and Jace danced after speaking with the four a bit. As the two glided across the dance floor, Adrien found it hard to keep an eye out for his father when Jace kept looking at him so…

           Well in a way that left him frazzled.

           However Adrien’s first clue that his father had arrived was the sound of someone choking.

           And then Nino shouted, “Yes, I did it!” Was his second clue.

“Gabriel’s fainted,” Nathalie yelled. “Call for an ambulance.”

“That’s one,” Jace whispered in his ear. “Care to make it Two for Two.”

           Adrien looked thoughtful for a moment before nodding earnestly. A second later, Jace’s lips caught his own. Then they were making out on the dance floor.

“Nathalie’s down,” He heard Marinette cackle. “Poor thing. Must be the stress.”

           The kiss broke. Jace smirked down at Adrien, “Not bad Agreste; might make this a permanent thing.”

            Adrien hid his blushing face in his date’s chest; content to ignore the chaos erupting around them.

           Freedom never felt so good.