#Sorry I think about the slippery definition of middle class a lot

[homoqueerjewhobbit]

Americans will go on food stamps and have their car repossessed and still consider themselves Middle Class. Americans will drive their Porsche to their house in the Hamptons and still consider themselves Middle Class.

[fakeloveaskblog]

I think you. should ask Janus to "slither" over to your house! But also give him options! Like, "would you like to join me for dinner at my house? Or do you prefer to just go on a walk? How about we go to a fancy restaurant~ My treat~. Or maybe just enjoy each other's company at a park? You don't have to of course!"

(Words: 2095)

Logan: "Ah yes wonderful tactics stranger! This will surely be useless in my upcoming attempt!"

It was nearing the end of the day. Janus was closing up. Meanwhile Logan was trying to calm his nerves by reminding himself that he was objectivly very cool. He had on one of his best sweaters to look extra good (it had the tardis on it!).

"Alright. Looks like we can go home and have an existential crisis about the passage of time" Janus said motioning towards the exit.

Logan took a deep breathe before grabbing onto the sleeve of his crush' shirt "Please wait just a moment. How long have we known each other?"

"I guess since I started working here...so around 6 months? Please don't tell me you’re quitting! Work would just become soooo much more enjoyable"

"I was actually wondering if you mayhaps would like to accompany me on a so called 'hang out' during our leisure time...Today...Or some other day! If you want to! You don't have t-"

"No! No I would hate to!- Love! I mean I would love to!" Janus couldn't stop himself from grinning.

Logan flapped his hands in happiness "Good! So would you maybe like to go to the park nearby or-"

"No! Yes! Yes!"

"Great!"

Logan walked out of the library and held the door open for Janus. After quickly locking they walked towards the park. It was a simple small one. Just some trees, lots of grass, lots of people smoking grass, a pond, angry ducks, even angrier swans and exactly 1 ice cream shop.

All Logan wanted to do was take his crush' hand. It would be hard to do even if he tried to because Janus was constantly fiddling with his gloves. He was barely even looking at where he was walking.

"....I'm sorry for the weird way I talk sometimes" Janus quietly confessed "With the backwards talk. I kind of lie when I get nervous? I think?"

"Oh I know" Logan replied.

"You kNOw?" Janus' voice went up a tone.

"It is very noticeable but it is also quite charming if I may say so myself" It took a moment before he carefully added "Besides I have read that compulsive lying and also vitiligo can come from great stress or bad...events so even if I did not find it charming I wouldn't hold it against you either"

A small smile played on the edges of Janus' lips "Thanks"

"No need"

He took an impressively deep breathe before he stopped in the middle of the road and dramatically grabbed onto both of Logan's shoulders to stop him. He stood on his toes to make himself taller and stared into his love's eyes.

"I do not think you are also charming at all!!!" Janus very loudly announced.

Logan let up into a chuckle. He forced himself to keep eye contact "Well thank you"

Janus let go of him and kept walking very very quickly to try and distract from his red cheeks and heavy breathing. That was flirting right??? He had flirted??? He had done it??? He'd flirted??? The little voice in his head that he was starting to think was his self confidence trying to break through to him would be so proud!!!

“So would you perhaps like an ice cream in these trying times?” Logan asked. He was walking with his hands clasped behind his back.

“Oh right I would definitely love something high calorie that would just make me even more gross”

“Somehow your thick layer of sarcasm was the part of that sentence with the least falsehood in it. We can share one? Or if you get uncomfortable eating desserts in front of other people we don’t have-”

“SNAKE!” Janus interrupted him. 

He ran out into the grass of the park and hunched down to gently pick up a slippery snake. It was small enough to keep in one hand. He was repeatedly hitting his other arm against his leg and putting his fingers in uncomfortable positions.

Logan happily sat down next to him. Janus ungraciously shoved the snake right up near his face.

“It’s a baby northern watersnake! It’s not venomous I promise. It hunts fishes in the water. Isn’t that cool? It’s also one of the few species that doesn’t lay eggs! It can even put out musk to protect itself!! It’s so-”

He realized how much he was ranting and immediately forced himself to stop. He stopped his arm as well. He was so annoying.

“I apologize. Sometimes I just run my mouth and I do these stupid motions”

Logan boped his nose “The only stupid thing about that is you assuming I wouldn’t want to hear you rant. Or see you....stim...? I literally flapped my hands 5 minutes ago. I do not judge”

Janus shrugged at the stim question “My mother did always say that my father has adhd but that was in an insulting way. When I have done research on adhd I relate to a lot of it but it’s not like I have a diagnosis or anything”

“Bitchass mother” Logan mumbled under his breathe “I do not have diagnosed autism either but I do still now I have it.....Besides....Not to brag but I have both a deegre in both psychology and medicine so I can basically diagnose myself anyway”

Jan was already too overwhlemed to ask how the hell he had had the time for 2 bachelors deegre only to end up at a library.

“Anyhow we don’t have to talk about psychology...now...............maybe one day though” Logan did a little robotic evil laugh “For now maybe you can infodump about that snake, then we can get a shared ice cream and then I can infodump about glorious star trek. How’s that for a plan?”

His crush took a deep breathe before nodding. He stood up and cupped the snake in his hands. “You want to go to the pond don’t you little guy? Want to hunt and murder a few fishes don’t you?”

He turned to Logan and shuly said a few more facts while they went to the pond. He patted the snake on it’s head before carefully setting it down among the plants at the water’s edge.

The friends sat in silence for a few minutes, watching the snake as it looked for prey. (Though Logan spent most of the time adoring Janus’).

When the snake caught a small fish and swallowed it whole Janus broke out in happy flaps. He let out a happy squeal while pointing at it. Logan nodded back at him. He mimicked his flapping. 

He’d never seen Janus’ smile that brightly. Logan took his hand. Intertwining their fingers. They stimmed together until Lo pulled in his hand making his crush stumble into him. 

Jan sat with his head leaned against his chest. He looked up at Logan with blushing red cheeks. He forced himself to move back even if he didn’t want to.

“Sorry”

“No need” The nerd assured.

He stood up and held out his hand to help Janus up. They didn’t let go of each other’s hands as they walked towards the ice cream shop.

“To piss off homophobes” Janus lied up the explanation while motioning for their hand holding.

“Of course”

They ordered a scoop of lemon ice cream and sat down by the tables outside. Janus had taken off his gloves.  Their hands laid on top of each other. 

“Do you also have that experience where” Logan stopped to take a bite of ice cream “You categorize your life into what you were hyperfixated on at the time? For example I remember that when I met Patty I was into Doctor Who and right before then I was enjoying Sherlock Holmes”

Janus shrugged. He didn’t want to say that he had a hard time even remembering most of his life clearly “I can see the Doctor influence” He nodded towards his tardis sweater.

Logan’s eyes lit up “Oh have you seen it??? The ninth and fifth doctors are my favorite! Though as a bi man I can not ignore David Tennants’ everything”

“I have seen exactly 0″ 

“Well that is not a problem that can not be fixed! When I met Patty she hadn’t either- maybe because we were 12- but I show-”

Janus choked on his ice cream “12? Oh wow. For some reason I had assumed you were older”

“Oh no. She moved towns and started in my class. It was almost love at first sight. I stole flowers from my neighbor and invited her to see the movie everyone in town was talking about....Kung fu panda”

He broke out into a laugh.

“Don’t laugh at me Janny! It was an incredibly tactical decision. You see I knew she liked animals and the kung fu panda is a panda”

Janus doubled over the table while continuing to laugh “Me throwing popcorn at myself during my first hangout almost seems cool in conparison”

“Popcorn is usually hot. Not cooled down” Logan corrected. “Though to be honest the start of our relationship was sort of what you can call a ‘mess’ since as you already know both of us were foolish enough to think Patty was a guy. So suddenly I had to come to terms with liking guys. Until she told me she was a girl. So then I was straight. Until I met Thomas but that is a whole different story. It was like some people say a rollercoaster”

“Am I rude for finding that funny?”

“Yes incredibly and frankly you should be dragged to the guillotines right now”

Janus leaned closer to him with a sly smile on his face “Aw ~darling~ I didn’t know you could be sassy”

Logan did his best to hide how the nearly choked on his own spit “Yes I can indeed be if I want to. Just like how I have been able to have adequate facial expressions and voice tones and also eye contact during our whole hangout. Normally I only have a lot of expressions and tones if I am talking about hyperfixations or my wife”

“You don’t have to do that around me”

“Really? It does take a lot of energy to try and appear ‘normal’ but I was afraid of coming across as rude”

“Darling I find you lovely either way” Janus was going to pour up the biggest glass of fucking wine when he got home. He was a flirting machine!

“Oh okay” Logan relaxed his shoulders and started looking at a point right next to his shoulder instead of at his eyes. “Want to hear about Star trek the next generation? It’s the one with Data in it”

Janus squeezed his hand “I definitely have a very good idea about who that person is. Yes please tell me”

Logan went on a very very long infodump which Janus happily listened to (and did his best to reply to even though he didn’t know much). He was sure he would never get tired of hearing him talk. The ice cream nearly melted because they were both too busy with what he had to say.

“-And that is why the poetry actually have significance” Logan concluded after nearly half an hour.

“Well that sure sounds like an interesting series”

“I can show you it? Soon? I have it all on dvd”

“It’s a date- I uh I mean like planned thing not like romantic I mean-” Janus babbled out.

“I am aware of what you meant” He checked his watch “It is probably a good time for me to depart. It’s my turn on laundry today. I will get to categorize socks!”

“Wow. Sounds like a party”

Logan excitedly nodded. He stood up. Janus did as well. They looked down at their still connected hands. Jan was about to let go and simply leave but to his surprise Logan pulled him into a hug.

He leaned down and moved his arms around Janus’ waist. In return Jan quickly stood up on his toes and buried his head into his love’s shoulder. He breathed in his scent. Coffee and strawberry jam. He closed his eyes, taking in the moment.

“Janus, You are so special to me” Logan murmured while holding onto him as hard as he could.

“I- I love- I love being around you” He whispered back. Too afraid to say the truth.

Logan tried to memorise the way it felt to have him this close before letting go and taking a step back “Well I will see you tomorrow then”

“Can’t wait!”

[blackenedwhite97]

Storge (Familial Love)Pt.2- EraserMic x Student!Reader

This post includes: Mentions of loss of family, cursing, mentions of fiscal problems, mild violence and injury, a prominent homosexual relationship, and mentions and depictions of anxiety.

Original Request: “Imagine living all by yourself. You’re a teenager that lost their parents years ago and refused to become a part of the foster system. So now you work and take care of your own apartment all while going to school at U.A. It was starting to take a real toll on you when Mr. Aizawa and Mr. Yamada approached you, like concerned parents. It could be written as platonic or romantic. (Not with the reader, I'm talking about Mic and Eraser)”

Authors Note: 

As per usual I over wrote! This will be divided into two chapters. I went off on a bit of a tangent with this one but to be fair i wrote the first half over two months ago and the second half this week.

Word Count: 5.6k

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Chapter 2

That day you walked home in your new coat; the wind’s bitter teeth unable to gnaw at your bones like it used to. When you reached your front door, you didn’t want to shrug it off and toss it into the pile of sweaters and hoodies you kept near the door for cold days. You wanted to keep it on even if that meant, for the first times since the weather had changed, you’d be sweating through your clothes. It was new, you like new. It was a gift; you’d forgotten how much you like gifts. You cooked in the coat, did your homework in your coat and eventual fell asleep on your couch swaddled in the warm fur hood.

When the sun broke through your blinds the next morning you uncurled yourself, reluctantly peeling off the coat in favor of getting some fresh air on your sweaty skin. You checked the time on your phone, 5:32 AM. It was still early and you wagered you could sneak in a couple more hours of sleep before you had the be in class, but you overflowing kitchen garbage can caught your eye and you decided you’d rather use this time to maybe take care of somethings you’d let slide. First order of business was to clean your dishes, the counters, and gather all the miscellaneous trash scattered around your apartment. The second was to take said trash to the complex’s communal waste bin across the parking lot. Your apartment was starting to look like a functioning home again, the next thing to go was the pile of warm layer next to the door, you wouldn’t be needing those anymore.

The snow crunched under your feet, more had fallen throughout the night and it hadn’t yet been disturbed by the day’s traffic. The sky was pink and the rooftops white, and in the early morning silence your neighborhood didn’t look half bad. You lifted the heavy metal lid to the trash bin, tossing your over-stuffed bag before the seams could give way. With a clang you dropped the lid, the sound resonating through the streets. A dog barked in response and the world returned to silence.

You took a deep breath of crisp clean air and for a moment everything faded, only the blazing sky and your swirling breath mattered. Then the snow behind you started to crunch, footsteps moving closer. You turned around, suspicious of anyone else up and about this early in the morning. You were met with two familiar sleepy eyes peeking out from behind a thick grey scarf.

“Mr. Aizawa, G-good morning?” you greeted awkwardly.

“Uh, yeah. Good morning.” He said back, his hands shoved in his pockets. “I’m- just heading back from a night patrol. Sorry if I startled you.”

“I didn’t know you patrolled around here.” You’d never seen him before, which you guessed was technically the point.

“I-” he paused. “Just expanded my patrol range recently.”

“Oh, good to know.” You smiled at him; you rarely saw heroes here. If you did it wasn’t for long.

“Okay, well, I’ll see you in class.” He started to turn away.

“Hey, Mr. Aizawa?” An idea suddenly popping into your head. He paused and looked back at you. “I- since I have my provisional licence I’m allowed to patrol with a licensed hero and if you’re in the area on my night off-”

“No.” He said, turning back away. “You’re too loud. I’m sure Mr. Yamada would be willing to take you on patrol, if you ask nice enough. He can’t stealth to save his life.”

“I am not!” you huffed. “I can stealth if I want to!”

Still turned away from you chuckled. “Prove it in class today, then maybe.”

He started away again and in mere second scaled your building and leap across the roof out of view. You made you way back to your apartment, taking care to step slowly and as carefully as the snow would allow it. You’d show him stealth!

Mr. Aizawa wasn’t kidding about class. The whole obstacle course was built around stealth, evade capture for thirty minutes with no use of force and pass. It was in teams, you failed, your team also failed. You, as you were fully aware were, the least subtle out of your teammates. He had grouped you together on purpose, you knew it. You had to think logically, you had to plan to move around as little as possible. You ended up pulling a cluster of debris around you and your team in the middle of what looked like a junk yard, using your power to keep them in place as All Might thundered around looking for you.

        While it definitely was suspicious that this pile of debris wasn’t moving while the world’s strongest hero was lunging around, shaking buildings with each impact Mr. Aizawa passed your team. You were dismissed early for lunch with your team, beaming as you left the training grounds. You’d passed, proved you were stealthy.

        After you had wrapped up your lunch you decided to head back to your home room early, you were tutoring a first year in history and needed to take time to refresh your memory. Why not in an empty classroom?

        You knocked on the door tentatively, hoping Mr. Yamada had taken his lunch outside of his room. That, however, wasn’t the case. “Hello?”

        You slid the door open a fraction. Mr. Yamada and Mr. Aizawa sitting across from each other on two student desks, a convenience store bought bento open between the two of them. “Sorry, I don’t mean to interrupt I was looking for a quiet place to study.”

        “Your always welcomed in your homeroom! Come in, we’ll keep the talking to a minimum.” Mr. Yamada waved you inside as he hopped off his desk to grab a white steaming cup from the edge of his desk. “What are you studying?”

        “First year history.” You held up your worn out textbook. “I tutor some of the underclassmen.”

        “Any from my class?” Aizawa asked.

        “E-Eijiro Kirishima.” You were pretty sure he was in Mr. Aizawa’s class, the kid sure complained about him enough anyways.

        “Hm.” He shrugged to himself. “I wondered how he suddenly started passing most of his tests.”

        “Speaking of passing…” you trailed off looking at Mr. Aizawa expectantly.

“Yes, you did.” He sighed into his coffee.

“See, I can be stealthy!” you exclaimed, clutching your book to your chest.

“No, you can hide. You tripped over your own feet leaving for lunch.” Mr. Aizawa grumbled.

“But you passed me!” You chirped. “You said that if I passed you’d take me on a patrol!”

“I said maybe I’d consider it” he corrected you.

“Sho.” Mr. Yamada chided him, eyes peering over his orange glasses.

“I-” Mr. Aizawa looked at his partner, then over to you. You gave him the sweetest smile you could muster, Mr. Yamada doing the same. “When’s you’re next night off?”

“Thursday.” Your smiled grew genuine.

“I’ll be in your neighborhood around 8, take a nap after school and don’t be late the next day.” He instructed, eyeing Mr. Yamada frustratedly.

“Yes, sir!” you bowed. You began backing out of the room.

“Aren’t you going to study?” Mr. Yamada called as to were just about to breach the doorway.

“Right! Yes, thank-you!” You scurried forward, taking your usual desk and opening the textbook.

The next few days passed, work claiming your evening, classes taking up your days until you found yourself lacing up your boots at your front door waiting for 8 o’clock on Thursday evening. You’d seen Mr. Aizawa once in your neighborhood since Tuesday morning, and he was sporting a bruise that seemed to disappear by the beginning of class that very same day. You supposed he had access to Recovery Girl’s powers in the morning before the building filled up with students.

You leaned against your window frame, staring out into the parking lot waiting for the familiar darkly dressed silhouette to appear against the snow. When he finally leaped down from your roof you raced out the door to meet him. you slide to a stop in the slippery snow, spattering his legs with wet slush.

“Subtle.” To your surprise an entertained grin tugged at his lips. “I have a specific surveillance target tonight. I want you to get your patrol experience but if I tell you to turn tail or stay back you do as I say, got it?”

You nodded. “Who is it?”

He stared walking; his footsteps impossibly silent in the dense snow. You now realize, if had wanted to hide his presence the other morning, he could have. You tried to mimic his soft steps, but your pace suffered and you found yourself trailing behind him.

“His alias is Earth Breaker, he’s an elemental type villain. He can control earth at his will, that means projectiles of stone and a solid defense.” Mr. Aizawa briefed you.

“Any we’re surveying him because?”

“Remember that apartment complex that went down last month about six block from here?”

“That was him?”

“Yeah. He killed lots of people in that building.” Mr. Aizawa paused and looked at you. “I’ll tell you when we need to stealth you can just walk normally for now.”

You straightened up and jogged to catch up to him matching his strides until he began to slow about six blocks later.  He held up a hand and turned to you. “Stay fifteen feet back, don’t lose me.”

You nodded and strayed off to the side of the sidewalk where a hedge of wild bushed would give you quick cover if you needed it and began to follow Mr. Aizawa from a distance. He ducked into an open gate, melting into the darkening yard, you hugged the fence and peered into the dark until you caught a glimpse of him moving again. He darted across the yard and you ducked into the gate just in time to see him jump the farthest fence. You dashed to the fence, careful to slow down so you didn’t make a loud impact against it. On the other side Mr. Aizawa’s rough voice whispered through the gaps in the wood. “The house across the street to the east, you see it?”

You looked to the east along the fence, you were in a perfect position to keep an eye on the top floor of windows. “Yeah.”

“Keep an eye on the top windows, I’m moving in. Text Mr. Yamada- Hizashi- the street name and district if things go awry. Do not engage unless absolutely necessary. Understood?” this a quiet thud a phone landed at your feet, a text chain with Hizashi already on the screen.

“Roger.” You nodded, grabbing the phone from the ground. You heard him leave but not where he went, and for several long minutes you waited in silence. Nothing in the windows stirred save the lights going on in a room, then going out again. You pre-typed the text to Mr. Yamada in case you had to send it quick and waited. You kept waiting. The street was so silent that you felt as though outside of yourself time had stopped.

You sat in limbo until suddenly the ground beneath you began to tremble. Waves of tremors rolled past you, flowerpots clattered on their saucers and fences began to sway. You stood up and dashed toward the gate, fighting against the tremors to stay on your feet. A loud bang rang out through the streets, echoing from the house across the street. You latched onto the top of the gate and peered over it just in time to see a cloud of dust washing towards you. You ducked until the worst of it washed passed you, by this time lights all around the neighborhood had begun to turn on a civilian peaked out of windows and doors.

You held your breath and hauled yourself over the fence, landing in a bed of flowers, you felt a tinge of guilt about crushing. Through the settling dust you could see the front of the house you’d been watching; it was covered in dust and the front door was hanging on by a single hinge. In the doorway a hulking man stood, his arms braced against the door frame which had fishers running through it that bled into the walls. His eyes were a light with an animalistic rage, the type of rage only a mad man could carry inside.

As the dust continued to roll back you could see more of the street, rocks and dirt scattered everywhere. Shingles and chunks of siding rained down from the house and bounced off the street. Mr. Aizawa crouched in the street, dust rolling off of him as he shielded the bottom half of his goggled face. You looked at the phone in your hand then back at him, he still seemed so calm. You left the message unsent.

“A SPY?!” The man in the doorway roared. He brought one of his great fists down onto the stone walkway at the front of the house and a fissure formed, snaking across the ground towards Mr. Aizawa. “THEY SENT ANOTHER SPY?!”

Mr. Aizawa launched himself backwards, barely escaping the crumbling ground beneath him. He should have been faster; you could have gotten away quicker than that. You watched as he landed, quickly shifting his weight to his left foot immediately after hitting the ground. He’s hurt.

You hit send. Better safe than sorry.

Earth Break fired off two quick fire blasts, Mr. Aizawa easily skirting one but heading straight into the middle of another. You shot out your hand and thought about pulling him towards you out of the way. He grunted as he was jerked backwards, landing and sliding into the grass. He side glanced at you, keeping his head turned towards the enemy. His hand hung at his side flinched, his fingers motioning for you to back up. You did as you were told, scrambling sideways into some bushes that lined the yard you were in. He stood and took off, even on his injured leg he managed to fade away into the night.

Behind you a low creak altered you to someone peeking out of the front door. You turned around and saw a man wrapped in his house coat staring wordlessly at the behemoth across the street currently smashing apart the driveway. You whistled quietly at him, his eyes darting to you. He stopped himself from shouting in surprise with a hand over his mouth and a calming breath. You crawled closer to him with a finger help to you lips.

“Get back inside, to the rear of the house!” you whispered.

He looked back across the street and his eye swelled with fear as he took a step back inside the house, this time a yell escaping him. You spun around to see a chunk of the road hurdling towards the house. Thinking quickly, you darted towards it and just as it passed over head pulled it towards you with your quirk. You rolled to the side narrowly escaping being totally crushed, instead getting away with a nasty gash in your arm from a stray piece of rebar. You jumped to your feet and looked back at the house, the owner was a few feet inside frozen with fear.

“Run!” you shouted at him. With a tremendous grunt behind you another chucked of road was launched towards you.

“ANOTHER ONE!” he roared.

You darted in the only direction you could at the moment, the house. You rushed in through the door,  and pushed the man inside along as you did. You breached the kitchen just as the boulder crashed through the doorway, tearing into the walls as it did. Debris flew everywhere, pieces of wood and insulation filling the air. You pulled the man through his house until you both burst through into the backyard.

“Keep going!” you huffed as you spun around and darted back through the house.

You breached the crater where the front door had once been, the shadow of a massive dust storm beginning to swallow the top of the house. Rocks and dirt and chunks of boulders began whipping around, leaving the house was next to impossible unless you wanted to be bludgeoned with debris. Windows shattered, the ground shook and the foundation began to crumble beneath you. The cement base tore through the carpeted floors in spears, you had to jump left and right narrowly avoiding serious injury until you made it to the stairs where the spears were having a harder time getting at you.

Then everything stopped, the spears crumbled into sand and the ground stilled. The house moaning as it settled back into its uneven foundation. The street quieted, almost back to the timeless silence before the chaos had begun. A single roar of anger pierced the air, cut short with a grunt. You steadied yourself on the stair railing and made your way on uneasy legs to the front yard. Mr. Aizawa stood, covered in dust and debris, with a single boot pressed into Earth Break’s chest. His hands pulled tightly on his capture weapon, restraining the boulder of a man below him.

The street began to fill with lights and sirens, the cool blue darkness of the night flooded with red and white. Police piled out of their cars and vans to load the villain into an armoured truck for transport. You plopped down onto the front steps, brushing aside an uprooted plant. You sat and watched the arrest, watched how many officers it took to contain just one man. He was the definition of raw power, one stray kick tearing off a police car door.

Once he disappeared into the truck you leaned back onto your arms, you were beat. You were sore and exhausted, but you were also in a strange perverse sense happy. Perhaps it was the adrenalin of what you’d just gone through still coursing through your system or the afterglow of a technically successful patrol, but you felt like this was what you were meant to be doing. This hero thing, this was for you.

When a pair of ambulances arrived, you watched as the paramedics jumped into action. One of them offering medical treatment to Mr. Aizawa who, you had only just noticed, was making a b-line towards you. He waved off the paramedic, limping towards you on his injured leg.

“Are you alright?” He grunted, lowering himself onto the step next to you.

You looked over yourself, your sleeve was torn, and arm was scratched up from the rebar in the boulder but you would live. It immediately started to thrum with pain when you looked at it, the blissful ignorance of adrenaline wearing off as soon as you actually took stock of the injury. You were covered in dirt and dust, but you still felt good, despite your injuries.

“Yeah. Just a scratch.”  You shrugged. “How’s your leg?”

“I’ll live.” He grumbled looking down at his torn pant leg. “Thanks for that by the way, the save earlier. Even if you did put yourself directly into harm’s way, like an idiot.”

You chuckled to yourself. There was always a learning opportunity with him.

“No problem?”

You both sat in silence for a moment, watching some of the police cars start to leave.  It was him who spoke next. “So, where’s my phone?”

“Oh,” you looked over your shoulder at where you had dropped it, a large boulder sitting in the wake of a deep groove in the lawn. “it’s-”

“Under that boulder?” he sighed.

You nodded solemnly; you couldn’t afford to replace that phone.

“Well, at least it’s not you under the boulder.” He turned back to face the street.

Was that… a glimmer of fondness? You smiled to yourself, a familiar warmth blooming in your chest. You still missed that, people being glad to have you around. You didn’t really spend enough time around people to feel that anymore.

“Okay,” Mr. Aizawa pushed himself to his feet. “let’s get that armed checked out.”

“It’s a scratch, I’m fine.”

“It’s flesh eating bacteria waiting you kill you.” He said, pulling you up with surprising strength for a guy with a bum leg. It wasn’t quite the same as Mr. Yamada’s unbridled kindness, but you got the feeling this was Mr. Aizawa’s version of fussing over you.

***

“Hey.” There was a quiet knock at the door of your room. You looked away from the fuzzy TV screen to find Mr. Yamada leaning up against the door frame, a disappointing looking cup of coffee in his hand.

“Hi. What’s are you doing here?”

“Sho- Mr. Aizawa had to get an x-ray for his ankle so I thought I’d stop by and keep him company while he waited.” Mr. Yamada looked over his shoulder, sighed, shook his head and turned back to you. “It would seem he needed so such company though.”

“What do you mean?” You gestured at the chair in the corner of the examination room for him to sit.

“Well,” he gladly took the seat, propping his boot clad feet up on a basket of magazines. “he’s been on the phone passing around the emergency room, probably hurting himself even more. He’s giving the station an ear full right now, he’s not very happy with them.”

“Why? They came pretty quick.” You picked at the paper rolled out across the bed.

“You.” Mr. Yamada placed the cup in his hands on the ground and looked up at you. “He only let you patrol with him because the report he was given on Earth Breaker misclassified him in threat level.”

He leaned back into the chair, sinking down like a bored teenager trying to slip away. “I’ve never heard him chew someone out for so long.” Mr. Yamada grumbled.

“Really?” You didn’t really know what to say, partially because you couldn’t picture Mr. Aizawa being upset and the other part because you were trying not to fall asleep. The adrenaline had worn off about half an hour ago and the pain meds the nurses gave you were strating to lull you to sleep.

“Yeah.” Mr. Yamada pushed himself back into a proper sitting position, tucking one leg under himself. He was obviously uncomfortable in the wooden waiting chair. “I was surprised when the nurse said you were still here, I thought you’d have gotten stitched up and went home.”

You blinked a few times, begging your eyes to stop drooping.

“I have to wait for my case worker to come get me, since I’m a minor leaving the hospital after treatment is kind of tricky. I can’t check myself out.” You shrugged.

Mr. Yamada sighed, not particularly happy with his new position but seemingly not bothered enough to fix it either. “How long have you been waiting?”

“I called and left a message like, an hour and a half ago.” You looked down at your phone, there was a new crack in the screen. No New Messages.

“And?” Mr. Yamada asked.

“Well, it’s currently 2:30 in the morning,” you breathed, “so I assume she’s asleep. If I don’t hear form her in another 30 minutes the hospital will call child services and they’ll send an overnight clerk to get me.”

“Shit.” He mumbled. “That’s ridiculous.”

“Yeah. Mr. Yamada?”

“Mm?” he looked at you, his body sliding down in the chair.

“Don’t expect me to make to class on time tomorrow okay?” you grinned. You were tired and it was the best approximation of a joke you could make.

“I’d be upset if you even showed up.” He huffed, pushing himself up.

You both sat in silence for a few minutes, the distant gruff voice of Mr. Aizawa lecturing someone filling quiet. You looked at the TV for a bit, our eyes burning with exhaustion. You tried to read the medical posters, but the reading made it hard for you not to nod off. Eventually, after a particularly long blink Mr. Yamada spoke up.

“Lie down, go to sleep. I can wake you up when someone comes to get you.” You were about to protest when he reached up a turned off the lights. The open door still letting in the cool light from the hallway. “Shhhhhhhh.”

You could have sworn you’d seen his silhouette sink down in the chair as his shush came to an end. While you hated the idea of sleeping around other people you couldn’t fight the urge to close our eyes and fine rest.

***

“Should we wake her?”

“We have to, she has to sign a form before she can leave, Zashi.”

“Shit, right!.....Hey Sho?”

“Mmmm?”

“Thank-you.”

A hand gently shook your leg, waking you from your shallow sleep. You blinked into the dark room, a figure leaning in the doorway, silhouetted by the hall lights. At the end of the paper topped bed was Mr. Yamada, or rather his very recognizable silhouette. Still dazed with sleep you rubbed your eyes and started to pull yourself up, the paper crinkling and tearing under you.

“Hey, kiddo.” He greeted softly.

“They here?” you mumbled, stifling a yawn.

“No, no, no.” he seemed somewhat nervous, glancing behind him at the figure in the doorway. “Mr. Aizawa called in a favor with someone at Child Services, he got permission to check you out. We’ll give you a lift home.”

You blinked. You weren’t entirely sure if you understood what was happening, you were too tired to really care. Home sounded good and he said you could go home. You nodded anyways and slid off the table, Mr. Yamada putting a pre-emptive supportive arm around you. You were on auto piolet, the pain meds and sleepy daze that hung over your head making it impossible for you to fully wake up. You signed some paper, a nurse said something nice. Mr. Aizawa looked…soft. No, nice…nicer than usual.

Then you were in the back seat of Mr. Yamada’s car, drifting off against the car door and dim streetlights passed you by.

***

You woke up to the sun piercing through your blinds, hot rays of light warming your chilled skin. Your room, perusal was chilly, though you were curled up under several blankets. You stretched and groaned, the that fog that hung over. You last night lifting. Lifting. Lifting. Lifted. Panic. You shot straight up, your aching muscles expressing their displeasure at the sudden movement. You looked around for your phone, it was usually under your pillow but then again you didn’t even remember getting into bed.

You didn’t really remember getting home or leaving the hospital. You ran your hands up and down the bed until your phone caught your eye as it rested atop to dresser across the room. You crawled across the bed, stumbling to your feet and looked at the time. 12:14 pm. You’re heart sank. It was Friday and you were late, again. Then your eyes caught sight of a folded piece of paper, a hastily written note on the back of your grocery receipt.

‘Don’t you dare come to class today. Here’s my number, send me message when you wake up. Let me know you’re not dead. -Mr. Yamada.’      

        You looked down at yourself as the panic subsided. You were in the most basic configuration of your hero costume, the jacket, gloves boots and utility items were folded up next your phone. All that remained what your pants and undershirt, both in need of some patch work and cleaning. You dethatched all of the pieces that couldn’t be washed and gathered up those that could and threw them in the communal washing machine on the floor below. When you reached your apartment again all you wanted was to eat and shower, but you typed out a brief, to the point text and sent it.

               ‘Not Dead. – Y/n.”

        A hot shower warmed you right up. You got a better look at the bruising on your arm and knees, noting too serious nor life threatening. In fact, you’d think you’d probably gotten worse during training. When you got back to your phone you quickly found out Mr. Yamada was an emoji texter. You could only imagine how he and Mr. Aizawa’s message exchanged must look now.

               Glad the hear it! Got something I wanna talk to you about when you have time!’

                    ‘IT’S NOT BAD! I promise!’

                    ‘Is there a time I could stop by this weekend?’

‘Mr. Aizawa would be there too or course! Not like a one on one thing, that would be weird.’

        You could see his energy channeling into texting anxiety. You checked your work schedule, you had day shifts this weekend so any night would work. You responded as such, suddenly realizing you had invited them over to your dumpy apartment. You could kick yourself. You looked around; this place was so rundown that it needed to exorcized of its dust. You flopped back onto the bed, dreading all the cleaning you had ahead of you. To top it off you had a night shift to get ready for.

***

        Saturday. Within the next day you had gone to work twice and between shifts thrown out everything that wasn’t wearable, washable or too offensive to be allowed continued existence. By the time you were moderately happy with your place it looked like a college dorm pre-move in. It’s not that your place had much personality to begin with, but over the last few months the mess had become your only sense of self here. Between your busy schedule and lack of motivation to do anything outside of work and school, you had gotten comfortable living in the product of that life.  Despite the stress of having guests over to a home you were ashamed of, the cleanliness was…nice. You could get used to this.

        You were almost able to enjoy the new environment when a knock sounded at your door and your gut squeezed in on itself. You tried to relax, telling yourself that they weren’t going to judge you. They fought villains for a living, you were not their idea of a bad person. A bad apartment doesn’t make you a bad person. You still felt shitty, though.

        You opened the door. The two of them stood in the hall, shoulder to shoulder, in casual clothes. Mr. Aizawa looking tired, but not as frustrated as he seemed to be when lurking in the halls at U.A. Mr. Yamada was bright and smiling, without the cockatiel hair he seemed less larger than life, more puppy-esque.

        “H-hi!” He greeted.

        “Hey.” You smiled back politely. Okay, now let them in. “C-come on in.”

        It took you a second to open the door wider and step aside, hopefully they didn’t notice. Who were you kidding, Mr. Aizawa definitely noticed, hopefully Mr. Yamada was still unaware of your currently mortified state. You turned around; they were taking in your space. You followed their eyes. Your walls were too bare, your couch sagged awkwardly in the middle, you didn’t even have a kitchen table.

        “This is nicer than your place when you first moved out.” Mr. Aizawa mumbled under his breath, ginning as he elbowed Mr. Yamada.

        “I mean,” Mr. Yamada blushed. “there’s a reason that building doesn’t exist anymore.”

        “Did you guys want to sit? I have… water?” Yes, those were things you said when you had guests.

        “No, thanks.” Mr. Aizawa said, nudging Mr. Yamada towards the couch.

        “O-okay.” You rubbed your arm awkwardly.

        The three of you went towards the couch, the couple sat on the couch and you leaned against you leaned against the T.V. unit. Silence hung in the air; it was a dense silence filled with unspoken words. You were nervous, it felt like you were doing your own parent-teacher interview. Mr. Aizawa remained ever calm, he looked almost serene compared to, not only how you felt but also, to how Mr. Yamada’s vibrating leg betrayed him to be feeling.

        “So,” Mr. Aizawa started.

        “So,” Mr. Yamada trailed behind. With a stern look from his partner he continued. “I know, when you lost your parents you didn’t want to be mix matched with other families.”

        A strange feeling began rising from your stomach, it was somewhere between anxiety and comfort. It made no sense, but you pushed it down and let him continue.

        “And since you’ve been on your own you’ve done really good for yourself.” He fiddled with a loose thread on a tear in his jeans. “But there are some drawbacks, like last night with the whole hospital thing, right?”

        You nodded. Wanting desperately not to jump to the conclusion you felt tickling the back of your mind.

        “I, uh, I was… Well, we were-” Mr. Yamada swallowed hard.

        “We were wondering if, just until you turn 18, you would consider letting us foster you.” Mr. Aizawa has said it but all you could see, and feel was the sheer panic and surprise of Mr. Yamada’s face.

        “Y-you want…to-” you breathed. That warm feeling refused to be repressed any longer and spray forth, a bright shiny joy engulfing you. You had thought you didn’t want this, that you were better off just waiting out your years as a minor. You hadn’t thought about how much you missed family in a long time, how much you missed having people fuss over you and worry about you and even make assholes of themselves for you.

        “It’ll also be easier if you go on school trips or want to apply for a licensing exam, we can even help out with, like, normal everyday life stuff maybe.” Mr. Yamada threw in.

You grinned to yourself. You had five months left to be a kid.

Read Chapter 1 of Storge here!

[blazehedgehog]

Do you ever think of yourself as being on the ASD? Up until the past few years (I'm 25 now), I never considered the possibility but as I delved deeper I identified with a lot of common behaviors (obsession, preferring isolation, social issues/anxiety, pickiness) and explained why I found it so difficult to assimilate in high school.

I’ve occasionally wondered, but there are a lot of things that kind of go against the grain of that kind of diagnosis. The few symptoms I exhibit of ASD also overlap with something that’s far more likely, and that’s that I probably have ADHD.

I had two or three teachers growing up try to convince my Mom that I had ADHD and that I needed to be medicated for it. My Mom refused to believe them, because back in the early 90′s, the traditional definition of ADHD included hyperactivity, and I was not a classically hyperactive kid. The image of ADD kids back then was being unable to sit still, unable to stop acting out. ADD kids were loud and grabby and uncontrollable, which I definitely was not.

We understand a lot more about the condition now and even though you should never self-diagnose, I’m 99% sure I have ADHD. My inability to focus on one singular hobby (hi, I’m an artist, game developer, sound engineer, youtuber, streamer, and writer), my extremely selective and poor memory, my inability to switch tracks and get motivated on something else after my mind is already set, my utter impatience for certain things, etc.

My isolation and social issues can be explained simply by my depression more than ASD, I think. I’ve talked about this before but I fell apart in high school. Things happened to me in middle school; I had bullies that acted like my friends, they did some deeply horrible things to me, and it completely destroyed my ability to trust anyone for decades. To some degree, it still persists to this very day. It just... wrecked me, in a way that’s hard to describe, and harder to even comprehend. I stopped showering. I stopped brushing my teeth. I just gave up on taking care of myself. I’ve blocked most of the memories out because of trauma coping mechanisms; I only know some of these things because other people have told me they happened. It really was that bad.

I had a really bad stretch of like, five years, from around 13 years old to 17 or 18, maybe even 19. I did eventually get away from those bullies in high school, but the combination of self-loathing they left me with combined with my ADHD and the mounting anxiety problems I was developing meant I coasted through an entire semester of algebra class absorbing absolutely nothing and I got a failing grade. Friends (new ones) dared me to skip one class with them for fun, and I figured “Well I’m doing bad in algebra anyway, so yeah, I’ll skip with you and go to the bowling alley.”

And that started the snowball. I became unmoored from the routine of school, which can be a big problem when you have ADHD. Skipping algebra every now and then became always skipping algebra. Then I started skipping gym too, because getting undressed in front of the other kids in the locker room was an introvert nightmare. Skipping two classes turned in to skipping three. Then four. Then all classes. Who cares, right? I couldn’t muster up the interest, especially when I realized I had no idea what the current lesson plan was anymore.

My girlfriend dumped me. The school waited until the start of my senior year to pull me aside and inform me that it was impossible for me to graduate under any circumstances (the first and only sign of disapproval they had shown me in three and a half years). My internet friends were yelling at me. I lost touch with my real-life friends. I had massive, gigantic, reality-ending panic attacks that left me too paralyzed to leave my room even to go to the bathroom. I teetered on the edge of having a nervous breakdown. I lost over 100lbs, leaving me nothing more than skin and bones. The mountain of stress I was feeling was taking a toll on my health.

I shut down. Closed myself off to the outside world. Ryan did not exist anymore. And for something like a decade, that’s how I lived. My only human contact was with immediate family (when they could drag me out in to the sunlight against my will) and with a core group of shrinking internet friends. The few that did not lose respect for me, anyway.

That does things to you. The parts of your brain that knew how to socialize atrophy and you forget how to hold a conversation. When I was still going to school, my cousin and I told each other we should become therapists, because we were excellent at listening to people and being mediators. We could fix anyone’s problems. Now, those skills died inside of me. I went from being able to make anyone feel better to constantly sticking my foot in my mouth. Being a nuisance, even when I wasn’t trying to be. I lost all sense of what was appropriate to say, or how to convey my feelings. Or convey anything outside of a keyboard, really. I made a lot of people angry and upset totally by accident, or pushed them away without realizing what I was even doing.

And all of these bad habits fed in to each other like an endless loop. It was a slippery slope that steeply went down, and down, and down. The more isolated I became, the more I wanted to isolate even more. The shame and embarrassment for who I was becoming kept getting stronger. I was caught in a spiral.

I was getting close enough that I could see where the bottom of the barrel was. I call myself introverted, but I’m also the guy who, completely of his own volition, downloaded the Shoutcast Server software in September of 2000 and hosted an all-night live internet radio broadcast. Alone. I was livestreaming myself playing video games for the internet four years before Twitch.tv was even invented. Whenever it came time to read aloud in class, I was always one of the best, clearest students, never needing to sound out words or pause for anything. Nowadays I'd never say I was anything but an introvert, but deep down there’s also been a voice inside of me dying to get out, and at some point I woke up and realized I could be better. I just need less fear and more confidence.

The person you see writing this blog today is the result of finally starting to become aware of what I was doing to myself, and forcibly dragging myself back out in to the world, inch by inch. I don’t think it’s going very well, but at least I’m still making an effort. I fell apart in to many small pieces, and they’re taking a long time to reassemble. I finally graduated high school about five years ago. (I re-read that post a few months ago and started crying.) As you may pick up on from the differences between that post and this one, I’m still learning a lot about myself and what’s wrong with me. The picture is always becoming clearer by the day.

But knowing the problem means you can find the solution, right? That’s what you’re doing, too.  It’s a slow process, but I continue the fight to heal the damage I’ve done to myself.

Anyway, sorry for getting so randomly heavy and spilling my guts out like this. I appreciate people looking out for me like this. And who knows, maybe I am on the spectrum after all. Just because I have my own theories doesn't mean they're necessarily right.

[finewalls]

i live in finland, im 18 next month and i would really appreciate it if you‘d answer this :) but if you don’t know anything about this it’s fine i can use google myself. my question is: do you think i could get free therapy? i think my family is middle class but im not gonna pay someone 60€ x ? to tell me to just try harder. nothing is seriously wrong; i know i won’t kill myself, i don’t think there is anything drastically (needing medicine) wrong with my brain and i smile/laugh normally (i watch a lot of tv and stuff). still i hold very negative views on the world like +85% of people me included would’ve been “better off” not being born and not waking up tomorrow would be neat. moreover im not doing my school work bc im just too lazy and don’t feel that good panic or stress i used to a couple years ago (i don’t feel a lot of anything) summary: nothing is wrong but i can’t pull myself together. 2nd question: do you think i should even try to get it free when there are people who need it more?

Okay I am here with my reply finally! First of all you sound a lot like I was around your age. I thought I was textbook ‘’okay’’, but since I kinda didn’t think I was doing as bad as some others I was like, I’m gonna be fine. Spoiler alert, it was a slippery slide down.

I am not a professional so do not take my words as facts obviously, but  ‘’i don’t feel a lot of anything’’ sounds a lot like depression to me, and all the not being able to pull yourself together. What helped me realise that I actually indeed have depression (bc I was in denial for a long time) was doing this test. Now even if you get 0 on that test doesn’t mean your feelings aren’t valid, and you don’t need help or you don’t deserve therapy! I for one always courage people to go talk to someone at least once or twice if possible even if you feel completely fine. Again I cannot diagnose you and I highly recommend getting a professional diagnosis if you see yourself fitting certain traits.  Also you said you don’t think you need medicine and that’s super valid, and even if you ‘’needed’’ it doesn’t mean you have to medicate yourself. Medication isn’t for everyone but therapy is definitely a good ‘’medicine’’.

Now my first suggestion is to visit a school psychologist (if you go to school and have access obviously). From there you can meet a koululääkäri who is qualified to give a diagnosis if that’s needed and can send a lähete to your local mental health centre. My sister is currently waiting to get approved for the free therapy that HUS proved, so I only know that’s how it works here in Uusimaa, but if you live somewhere else I suggest looking into your sairaanhoitopiirin mielenterveyspalvelut. But definitely a good start is school psychologist as they usually have the right resources. In case you know your school has a shitty psychologist (like we did) or maybe you don’t go to school or your school doesn’t provide them well, the best place to start looking for help is here. 

Since you’re still young I would recommend this site to look for what your city provides. And if you live in pk-seutu my friends have used this site as well, as well as an adult you can go through HUS if you live around here. 

So as for free therapy your best place to go is through school psychologist, and some cities provide like 2-5 free therapy visits for young people. But if you feel like not a few therapy sessions are enough, and you feel your mental health going downhill rapidly, I would recommend visiting a doctor. You can just visit your local doctor and tell how you’ve been feeling and they can send a lähete (love that idk the word hfgsdjk) to health care professionals, and from there you can visit a psychiatrist who can give a proper diagnosis if that’s apparent. The reason why I’m suggesting getting a diagnosis is because if you get a proper diagnosis, maybe even start medication if that seems fit, you are eligible for KELAn kuntoutuspsykoterapia. More on that subject you can read here, or just go to KELA’s website for more info on how you can get it. Now therapy through there isn’t free but it’s definitely cheaper than just paying for a private therapist. 

Vaihan suomeen nyt hetkeks, mutta siis julkisen kautta on paras mennä jos haluu halvalla päästä, mutta tunnetusti se on aina hitaampaa ja saattaa joutuu odottaa kauemmin. Niin jos päädyt sitä kautta kattomaan terapiaa kannattaa sen odotus jakson aikana kattoo vaikka keskustelu ryhmiä tai nettiterapiaa. Itte tykkään näistä mielenterveystalon sivuista et siellä on aika paljon hyviä apuja ja neuvoja yms. niin kannattaa niitä selailla. Mutta tosiaan jos nopeasti haluu päästä niinkun prosessin aloittamaan niin yksityinen on todella tehokas, mutta ne sit tosiaan on hintavia vaihtoehtoja. Jos niitä haluut kuitenki tutkia niin Mehiläinen ja Aava on hyvä paikka etsiä nuorisopsykiatreja (ja niiden hintoja jotka tosiaan ei ole pieniä, mut laitan nyt kuitenki esimerkiksi). (Täs viel STM ehdottamat palvelut)

Back to english bc I like to mix things up hjfgsdjkfhasdkl... Just remember no matter how small you think your issues are, they are never too small to ask for help. I was hesitant to first call for help because I thought exactly like you ‘’other’s need it more’’, but remember that you needing help doesn’t take away from others.  You are just as valid, and if you keep thinking ‘’someone has it worse’’ you might find yourself being worse off if you postpone getting help yourself.  You saying ‘’nothing is wrong but i can’t pull myself together’’ doesn’t sound like nothings wrong honey. But again I cannot diagnose you, or tell you what to do, but just know I’ve gone through something very similar and I went and got help and I am in such a better place now. 

Sorry for the extra long answer fdhsalk. Hope I could help you out in someway! Take care of yourself darling ❤❤

[strangerontheotherside84]

Wild Child (Billy Hargrove x Reader) part 5

Hey everybody thank you all so much for your nice feedback. I originally just wrote this story for a friend and didn’t think that anybody else would give a shit about it tbh. Which is also the reason why there is no regular uploading schedule and I am super shit at this whole tagging stuff…

Tagged-list: @speedmetalqueen @charmed-asylum

Warnings: language, mention of abuse, blood, mention of drug use

„Honey, I’m home.“ you shouted dramatically as you entered the small house, kicked of your boots and walked down the hallway into the kitchen.

You had actually been surprised to see lights burning inside the house as you arrived, your uncle didn’t mention that he was going to be home for dinner. Well now you at least had someone to share that frozen lasagna with. „Woah uncle Lou what’s that smell? Did you find out about the magical effects that spices have on pre-cooked food or-? Oh…“

You stopped at the sight of your uncle sitting at the kitchen table with your next door neighbour Ms Johnson, both of them looking very caught. And what you had mistaken for a very upgraded frozen lasagne seemed to actually be a real home-cooked meal. Well….you had definitely crushed their date.

„(Y/n)….I didn’t expect you to be home this early…I met Helen uhm Ms. Johnson at the garage and she suggested to cook dinner for us.“

„Yeah no worries.“ you laughed. You knew very well that Helen and your Uncle had a thing for each other. Nobody needed their car to get fixed that often. She would also regulary pretend to check up on you to see if your uncle was home. Once you even caught her, leaving the house through the backdoor early in the morning. They were acting like teenagers which to be honest was kinda cute.

„Wait a minute..“ you began, suddely realizing something, „Why did you think I wasn’t going to be home for dinner? I only had class until 2.“

„Well…school called.“

Oh fuck. Shit shit SHIT. Of course they did. How could you be so stupid?

„Well about that….“ you began laughing nervously, „I can only say it propably wasn’t as bad as it sounds.“

„What exactly?“ your Uncle was raising his voice at this point, but no matter how hard he tried…he was really bad at this whole strict-parenting-thing, „The part where you got sent to detention for almost getting into a physical fight with a boy OR the part where you got expelled for, and I quote their words: innapropriate actions with the exact same boy.“

„Well what can I say….I might have lost my temper a bit.“

„A bit?“ he was raising his eyebrows at you.

„Yeah ok maybe a little bit more than that. But I can assure you that I’m fine again. Also, innapropriate actions sounds like we were sacrificing children. It was just…oh nevermind. I’ll leave the two of you alone now“ you smiled at him and Helen, who was visibly uncomfortable with the whole situation.

„Where do you think you’re going?“

„To the lake. To think about my mistakes and nothing else of course…maybe god will end my suffering and let me drown.“

„(Y/n)!“, your uncle moved his eyes towards Helen, indicating that she wasn’t used to that level of sarcasm, „Also don’t you think, that after being expelled from school not leaving the house would be a more fitting idea?“

„Oh come on Uncle Lou…we both know that you don’t know how to punish me for something like that. And trust me I am already punished enough since I will forever have to remember making out with the biggest dickhe- uhm jerk in town…also…don’t you think it would be better if I was gone so the two of you can continue to do whatever needed to be done before I got home?“

„Fine fine fine. Get lost you little shit.“

„As you wish, sir.“ you grinned, „Bye Helen, feel free to use the front door this time.“

„(Y/N)!..I’m sorry Helen..she is….an idiot.“

„True. It runs in the family though.“ you yelled as you grabbed your stuff and made your way towards the front door.

-

You lit a cigarette, deeply inhaling the smoke only to release it into the crisp air within seconds later.

You had always enjoyed spending time at the lake.

Especially at night, there was something very soothing about this kind of solitude.

You were the only one present, as usual. Which might have been due to the fact that it was already december and pitch black outside.

But actually people didn’t really go here anymore no matter what time of the year it was. Not since they found that body which turned out not to be Will Byers, last summer. People thought the lake had been infested with some kind of supernatural bacteria, some even claimed that it was haunted.

„Well if you’re here lake-demons. Now would be a great time to drag me into the water and let me vanish from the surface of the earth.“ you mubled while flicking a stone into the dark water, watching the circles it created on the black surface.

The sound of a car stopping and a door being slammed shut in the distance suddenly pulled you from the thoughts circling in your head. Pretty weird that someone would be out here at 9pm on a monday night. Might be Chief Hopper? He would regulary pick you up at this place, when you were trying to get away from your mom and her shitty boyfriend.

But nothing followed that noise, which left you diving deep back into your thoughts once again.

You just couldn’t understand what had happened only a few hours ago.

Why WHY would you decide to kiss that walking trashbag of a human? And why the fuck did it have to feel so damn good? Worse enough that Billy already thought of himself as the hottest shit in town…why did it have to be true?…Well only kinda. It was just a few seconds of making out, which fair enough even the biggest looser would have been capable of.

Holy shit you didn’t even want to think about what you would have done if Mr. Jenkins hadn’t stopped you…but on the other hand you had the feeling that you would think about that a lot in the next few days.

Ok you really needed to stop that. NOW.

In order to not act like some horny piece of shit anymore you decided to walk around for a bit. Sitting on the freezing stones in front of the water was getting way too cold anyway.

You moved slowly on the slippery pepple stones, your eyes trying to focus in the foggy darkness. How good that you knew this place by heart and didn’t park your car too far away. You were already pretty close to the road as your eyes catched the sight of an unfamilair figure. Looked like somebody had parked their car right here in the middle of nowhere.

Please don’t let this become the next underage make-out hotspot. Isn’t Lovers Lake enough?

There clearly was somebody sitting on the hood of the car, looking rather wasted to be honest.

„Hey is everything alright?“ you asked as you approached the dark figure.

„Yeah..everything is just great.“ even though his voice sounded exhausted and faint you realized immediately who you were talking to.

„Hargrove? Are you following me or what?“ you groaned, „Is there really not enough space in Hawkins for the two of us not to meet every other day?“

„Look (y/l/n),“ Billy began, his husky voice sounding even weaker than before, „I appreciate your overall dedication to being an annoying bitch 24/7 but please, not now. Leave me the fuck alone.“

This made you very suspicious. „You sure you’re alright?“ you moved a few steps closer towards him „Holy shit dude what happened to your face?“.

It wasn’t a secret that Billy would regulary get into fights, but he would usually emerge from those as the winner. But today? The whole left side of his face was bruised, blood dripping from his eyebrow and the corner of his mouth.

He quickly faced away from you, wiping his palms across his face. „I said go away. Everything is fine.“ he growled, his voice now almost back to it’s usual low thick sound.

„I would believe you if your face didn’t look like it was hit by a fucking truck. And trust me I don’t like you enough to pretend that I care. But you look rough.“

„Well you seem to like me enough to not leave me alone.“ Billy taunted you with a grin on his face which quickly turned into a painful groan.

„Alright that’s enough let me see that.“ You took a seat next to him, carefully touching his jaw, turning his head towards you. He flinched as your fingers moved across his black and blue cheek. „Doesn’t seem to be broken..but still…who did that? Did you screw somebody’s girlfriend?“

„Doesn’t matter.“ Billy mumbled, trying to avoid eye contact.

„Well I’m not a big fan of the cops but don’t you think your parents will call them when they see you like that?“

„Nope.“

„..or maybe at least want to know what happened?“ you continued.

„Nope.“

“..or wanna know who did that?”

“Nope.” Billy seemed to be getting more and more fed up with you at this point.

„Well can you at least tell me then?“

„YOU WANNA KNOW WHAT HAPPENED?“ Billy suddenly facing towards you, screaming at the top of his lungs, made you jump a little, „I GOT EXPELLED FROM SCHOOL BECAUSE OF SOME STUPID BITCH AND THIS IS WHAT YOU GET FOR NOT BEHAVING AT MY HOUSE! AND NO THEY WON’T CARE WHO DID THAT BECAUSE THEY ALREADY KNOW!“

Billy was looking furious, breathing heavily, his whole body shaking with anger. His breath created little clouds in the cold december air and you thought that you could see tears shimmering in his piercing blue eyes before he turned away from you again, smashing the hood of his car, screaming with anger as he jumped onto his feet.

„Fuck…I’m sorry…I didn’t know.“ „Oh really? Thought you knew absolutely everything about me and how much of an asshole I am.“ Billy growled, still facing his back towards you as he lit a cigarette.

Yeah you deserved that one.

„Well I seem to be just as big of an asshole at this point.“ you mumbled as you reached into your pocket, „Here…guess you need that more than me.“ without waiting for a response you placed the joint from your pocket inside Billy’s left hand. He looked up to you slightly confused. „For the pain…if you need anything else..my Uncle’s secret girlfriend is a nurse. I’m sure I could get you some harder drugs.“

“Thanks…but please (y/l/n) leave me alone now.” the curly haired boy’s voice was back to that faint husky state from before, his body still visibly shaking.

“Yeah whatever I was just trying to be nice.” you mumbled not really knowing what to do. You really didn’t like him enough to be any more supportive than gifting him your last bit of weed.

“I don’t need you to be nice to me.”

“Don’t be such a bitch, Hargrove.”

„Leave me alone. And don’t even think about being nice to me just because you feel sorry for me.“ Billy snapped, pushing you aside as he walked back to his car and drove off into the night.

What a dramatic bitch.

[moonb-eam]

cute shippy starters: 18!

yessss i love this prompt thank you tara!!

(i hope you like it!!)

(it’s midnight here in edinburgh so goodnight pals i’m going to finish the last of the prompts tomorrow!!)

no. 18 “This is without a doubt the stupidest plan you’ve ever had. Of course I’m in.”

“We won’t get caught.” Lucas has his hands planted on his hips and he’s squinting up at Eliott. There’s dried sweat on his neck, and under his arms, and on the backs of his knees. He’s sure he looks absolutely disgusting. “No one actually patrols these things. No one will come.”

“How do you know that?”

Lucas points up to fence they’re standing in front of. “Because this is super hard to break into. Unless you happen to be friends with a giraffe.” Eliott frowns at that. “Don’t you trust me?

Eliott sighs. Lucas watches his shoulders roll up to his ears, and back down again, and definitely doesn’t watch how the low neckline of his tank top shifts against his chest. He definitely doesn’t. 

“Well?” He asks impatiently, distracting himself from Eliott’s skin and Eliott’s sweat and Eliott’s everything. “Are you in?”

“This is without a doubt the stupidest plan you’ve ever had.” Eliott says, resigned. “Of course I’m in.”

Lucas bites down on the smile threatening to scrunch his cheeks. “Good. Because I need you to give me a boost.”

The idea to break into an outdoor pool came almost too easily to Lucas, a moment of divine inspiration where he and Eliott had been walking back from drinks at Yann’s and they’d passed by a locked-up gate and tall, chain-linked fence, and Lucas had thought, hey, I could really use a swim right now.

But listen, it’s the dead of July, Lucas lives in an apartment without air conditioning, and the public pools are heaving with people during the day.

Who’s to say they can’t be used at night?

Lucas actually wishes he had been wrong, that the pool was a lot easier to break into than he thought. But no, it takes him standing on Eliott’s shoulders, to get over the top of the fence, and he gets caught on a loose link on the way down, resulting in a long, deep scratch that immediately begins to bleed.

“Fuck,” Lucas hisses, wincing at the pain.

“Are you okay?” Lucas can make out Eliott’s concerned face through the fence, can see how his fingers are curled into the gaps in it.

“Fine. I’m fine.” Lucas has to physically force himself to look away from Eliott’s hands, to cut himself off from letting out a lovesick sigh because Eliott is concerned about him.

He cuts himself off the way he always does because it’s Eliott, because Eliott is perfect, and beautiful, and way out of Lucas’s league, and because Eliott is his roommate.

It was Imane who’d let him know she had a friend who had a spare room in a small two-bedroom above a bookshop that was cramped, had horrible plumbing, and was cheap.

Lucas had met Eliott at the apartment, and he’d known two things at once:

Firstly, that the apartment was actually pretty shit, but it was probably the perfect place for Lucas.

Secondly, that Lucas was probably going to fall in love with Eliott.

Both of those things wound up being true, and while Lucas complained about the plumbing and the temperature in the flat all the time, he’d managed to go a year without letting a hint of his feelings for Eliott come out.

It’s chill. Lucas is chill.

Except for how fucking hot he is, practically dripping with sweat from his climb over the fence, hair sticking to his forehead, hands slippery when he gets the gate open enough for Eliott to slip through.

“Let me see it,” Eliott says when he gets inside, and the next thing Lucas knows, gentle fingers are grasping onto his elbow and holding up his arm for Eliott to inspect.

“It’s…” Lucas’s voice is a squeak. He coughs and tries again. “It’s fine. It doesn’t hurt that much.”

“Hm.” Eliott lowers Lucas’s arm, fingers trailing down the length of it to Lucas’s wrist. Lucas can feel goosebumps prickling in their wake, and he yanks his arm away.

It’s quiet for a moment, the only sound the lapping of water against the edges of the pool, the silence awkward between them in a way silences usually aren’t.

“Wanna go in?” Lucas asks and yes, that’s great, get in the pool and cool off and forget everything else. Good plan.

It’s a good plan until Lucas is kicking his shoes off and he looks over to see Eliott taking off his shirt and—

Lucas stares. He stares because Eliott is lit up in oranges and blues and pinks and purples, the colours of a July dusk when the sun is beginning to set on the horizon and the streetlights are turning on one by one. He’s lit up in a dozen different shades and he looks, to Lucas, like an immortal being plucked from the heavens and placed in a Parisian postcard.

Paris in the summer! Where everything is beautiful and everything hurts!

Then Eliott is unbuttoning his shorts and Lucas whips his head around to look away, staring fixedly at the deep end of the pool, where the glow of the streetlights and the faint touches of setting sunlight play across the surface like oil.

In Lucas’s opinion, saying Eliott is beautiful is like saying July is a hell scape of humidity and car fumes. It’s a fact. The worst part is, Lucas knows him. He’s seen Eliott leave for class, looking like an off-duty model with his slouchy t-shirts and messy hair. He’s seen Eliott coming home from a party, drunk, when he makes ramen in the microwave while singing nonsensically to himself. He’s seen Eliott first thing in the morning, when his eyes are tired and his words are slow and his whole body radiates warmth.

So, yeah, Lucas is fucked.

He’s pulled from his thoughts by a quiet splash, Eliott slipping into the shallow end, surfacing where the water only rises to his waist, dipping into the grooves of his abs.

“You coming?” He asks Lucas, and Lucas thinks this really is the stupidest plan he’s ever had, because there he goes, stripping down to his underwear and getting into a pool with Eliott.

He takes the stairs in, sighing at the touch of the cool water, a balm to his overheated body and burning thoughts.

“I take it back,” Eliott is saying, floating on his back in the shallow end. “This is the best idea you’ve ever had.”

Lucas doesn’t answer, instead he tips onto his back too, closing his eyes.

It’s quiet then, the more peaceful quiet Lucas is used to experiencing with Eliott. Somehow, the water is able to wash away any lingering awkwardness while it ebbs and flows around their bodies.

Lucas lets himself drift, lets himself be carried away by the water until he bumps up against something, and opens his eyes.

It’s Eliott, and he’s on his feet again, staring down at Lucas with an indecipherable expression on his face.

Lucas whispers, “Hi.”

And Eliott smiles.

“Hi,” he whispers back. “Thank you for breaking us in.”

Lucas lets out a giggle that’s all breath. “I didn’t really do much.”

“You scaled a fence.”

“Well, yeah. But I had help.”

Eliott lowers into the water, until his face is level with Lucas’s. “I guess we make a good team.”

“I guess we do.” 

Lucas doesn’t realize Eliott is leaning forward until there’s a press of cool, wet lips against his own and it takes a second, but finally Lucas’s brain goes. Oh. We’re kissing.

And that’s when Lucas’s entire body locks up, and he flails as he sinks into the water.

He’s able to plant his feet on the tiled bottom of the pool and stand, but he’s coughing, hair dripping and eyes burning.

Eliott, for his part, looks horrified. “Oh my god, Lucas, I’m so sorry.”

“No!” Lucas cries, flapping out a hand that hits Eliott weakly in the chest, another cough wracking his body. “No.” He says again.

“I almost drowned you.” Lucas has never seen Eliott look as sad and dejected as he does now, and it’s that, more than the kiss itself, that makes Lucas pause, that gives him a moment of, is this…is it actually possible…

“Maybe you should try again.” He says, voice far more confident than he feels.

Eliott’s eyes snap up to his. “Yeah?”

Lucas nods. “Yeah.” And it’s a hot summer night and Lucas is actually a bit of sucker for romantic tropes, so he goes all in. “I’ve only been wanting you to kiss me for a year, so.”

Eliott looks stricken all over again, but it’s different. It’s different because he says, “I’ve been wanting to kiss you ever since I first saw you.”

Oh. “Oh.” Lucas doesn’t realize he’s biting down on his lip until Eliott’s eyes drop down to track the motion, and whoa, that is…“You should…yeah, I think you should do that, then. Please.”

The sun has almost set, so it’s dark in the pool, but Lucas can still make out Eliott, wading towards Lucas with the biggest smile on his face and Lucas thinks he could die in this moment, he really could, and he’d be fine with that, especially when Eliott makes it to him and cups Lucas’s face in his hands, tilting his head back.

There’s a beat where they just look at each other, eyes searching for recognition and finding it, both thinking, this is happening, we’re doing this, i can’t believe it’s you, i can’t believe you’re with me, and overwhelmingly, kiss me, kiss me, kiss me.

And so, in the middle of a pool in the middle of a heatwave in the middle of Paris, that’s exactly what they do.

[theliberaltony]

via Politics – FiveThirtyEight

Welcome to Political Confessional, a column about the views that Americans are scared to share with their friends and neighbors. If you have a political belief that you’re willing to share with us, fill out this form — we might get in touch.

This week, we spoke with Chris, a 28-year old black man living in Texas who works in media. Chris originally wrote: “I think Democrats should actively pursue a European-style equilibrium/compromise on abortion: first trimester abortions are state subsidized and easy to obtain, everything else is pretty restrictive and hard to access.” The position was controversial, Chris said, because: “I’m a guy and I’m never going to have to choose about abortion, so I should probably shut up about it. And finally because, listen, I’m a queer black man. I don’t want my interests as part of this coalition to get sold out or compromised on. So who am I to try to sell out or compromise women’s interests in this coalition?”

This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity.

Clare Malone: Tell me your thought process on this position. How did you get to it?

Chris: I think it’s mostly because I grew up in Texas in a very conservative, super pro-life school with a lot of people who were very aggressively — and it seemed to me sincerely — pro-life. I went to college in New York and actually talked to people and learned some things and said, ‘Oh, no, actually that position is dumb and if you read books, including the bible, the whole idea that life begins at conception is not really supported by anything.’ And I learned that many embryos don’t actually implant in the womb, so the entire premise of the hard core pro-life position doesn’t make any sense.

But I guess I just always had the memory that this is one issue where at least some of the people on the right were arguing in good faith and not just like, ‘No, we don’t like women.’ It seemed like, OK, they’re negotiating in good faith and perhaps there are people who care about other people and, in part, base their political positions on caring about other people. Perhaps they would be more inclined to move to the left if it were not for this one issue that they see as a major moral sticking point.

CM: Would you call yourself pro-life or pro-choice?

Chris: Definitely would call myself pro-choice.

CM: Do you talk with people in Texas about abortion?

I do. I have one good friend who grew up in a very conservative environment and then moved left. He’s one of those people who are really pro-life but the GOP is so terrible he just decided to compromise on that position and go ahead and join the Democrats, despite the fact that he doesn’t like that one policy position.

CM: Your talk about coalition building was what caught my eye. Who are you hoping to win back with this compromise?

Chris: In theory, I think a lot about the people I grew up with.

CM: What are the demographics of the people you grew up with?

Chris: It was upper-middle-class white people in a ritzy suburb of Dallas, which is where I was in school. They seemed like sweet people and I understand that some of them were voting because they are, lord knows, racist and sexist and xenophobic and all that. I guess I’m thinking about whether there’s a viable distinction between socially conservative and culturally conservative voters. I’m thinking about social conservative voters.

CM: When you’re thinking about ways to win back those people you grew up with, are you thinking that Democrats should soften on identity politics issues?

Chris: I think that Democrats should actually not let up on identity politics, but rather address more of the identities, including some of the identity groups that we think of as dominant. That includes explicitly talking about white people’s interests and Christians’ interests and men’s interests — consciously talking about everyone’s identity politics. Saying, ‘OK, well we want men in our group and here’s some issues that men are concerned about and here are some issues that white people are concerned about — and here is how we’re going to make sure that we still respect some of these cultural totems, whatever they are. And here are the ways we’re going to try to respect those even as we try to make material conditions better for other groups of people.’

CM: Do you think that would create tension in the Democratic Party, saying here’s white identity and here are the issues we’re going to attach to it, and here’s black identity and here are the issues we’re going to attach to it? What happens if the two come to loggerheads?

Chris: I think that’s the whole point. That’s the tension that’s already in the Democratic coalition. It’s not like there’s not a whole lot of white people and even culturally conservative white people who still vote for Democrats. So I think it’s making the tension explicit rather than letting it simmer in the background until someone offers racial resentment to white people.

CM: So everyone should be more frank, basically?

Chris: Yes. More frank, more direct and also with the intention of trying to prove that Democrats are on the side of people who a lot of people don’t think they’re on the side of.

CM: Have you talked about this compromise position on first trimester abortions with anyone yet?

Chris: Not really, and I know I probably should. It’s something that I wish was in the policy discourse. But, no, I don’t bring it up. It’s not really my place. I’m not a woman. I don’t necessarily want a bunch of white people to be over here like, ‘The compromise that is popular is for the president to say [former NFL quarterback Colin] Kaepernick is bad but give funding for housing for black people.’ That would be a compromise that would be fairly popular but I would totally roll my eyes at some white person telling me that.

CM: Are there other issues that you as a black man, a queer person, would be OK with compromise on?

Chris: I’m less upset about the whole bakers won’t bake cakes for gay weddings thing than a lot of people are. And I think you need protections and I understand it as a slippery slope type thing. But if they don’t want to bake cakes …

CM: How would you answer the argument that most women get their abortions in the first trimester, and many second trimester abortions happen because a fetus is non-viable or there are medical problems?

Chris: I think my cynical answer is that that’s kind of the point of the policy [Chris proposes]. If you make a situation where you’re protecting most of the abortions that are happening anyway in exchange for regulating a much smaller number of abortions, I think in a lot of ways you would end up with a better solution for women in red states who already have their abortions regulated to an absurd degree.

CM: Are you personally uncomfortable with second trimester abortion?

Chris: I want to say ‘no.’ Like, if my friend told me she had an abortion and she was six months into her pregnancy, I would say, ‘I’m so sorry that happened.’ Most people don’t like getting abortions. I’d like to think that if I could get pregnant I wouldn’t get an abortion in the second or third trimester unless it was like, I’m going to die or the baby’s going to die — I’d like to think that personally.

But the whole point is I’m never going to make that choice personally. If I didn’t realize I was pregnant, and maybe there were a bunch of hoops to jump through because I live in Texas, and I couldn’t get to the abortion clinic until I was six months pregnant — I have no idea what choice I would make. So yeah, I think I am a little squeamish about it.

CM: How often have you talked to women about abortion on a personal decision level?

Chris: Almost never! I’ve had a lot of political conversations about abortion. Surely some of my friends have had abortions but we’ve never talked about it.

CM: How would you respond to people who will read this and say, ‘this person is a minority, a person who identifies as queer, how could he be so unsympathetic in his politics to people who are concerned about the regulation of their personage?’

Chris: I’m giving the most boring answers but the answer is that I don’t have an answer for you! The whole reason I hold this position is not because I hold a moral opinion. It’s not because I think that, morally speaking, anyone should have an opinion on what a woman does with her uterus ever. But you’re always willing to compromise on an issue when you know people who agree on nine things out of 10 but No. 10 is their sticking point. I think there are a lot of people where their No. 10 sticking point is gay marriage, their sticking point is NFL protests and a bunch of other issues I do care about …

CM: But you’d be willing to compromise on them too?

Chris: If there was a real benefit then yeah, but I wouldn’t be happy about it. I would be like, ‘this is disgusting,’ but I would also be like, ‘This is politics and you compromise on the right thing to get a better thing than you would have gotten otherwise.’

[moved-to--mysticandskepticmuses]

 beneath the cut is a copy paste version of harley’s timeline as i’ve sorted for this blog and my rp purposes - it is super choppy and unfinished, it was delivered over discord while i was doing like five other things and brain dead; this is just a placeholder of it until i can write up something more cohesive / established.

she just didn’t want, didn’t need any reminders of the way things had been before her father had been creamed by one of many fat cats in their expensive cars and their diamond pink rings.  wrong place, wrong time, her ASS.  she’d never been any under delusions her father had been a saint.  what she’d found when cleaning and packing to move from one shit hole to another had done nothing but clarify that some people in this world just had it coming.  SHE WANTED TO THINK SHE WAS DITCHING THE BOARD GAMES, THE BARBIES, THE WHATEVER ELSE HE’D GIVEN HER BECAUSE SHE DIDN’T WANT TO KEEP THINGS BOUGHT WITH DIRTY MONEY…THE TRUTH WAS SHE JUST DIDN’T WANT ANYTHING AT ALL THAT WOULD REMIND HER OF THE FACT THAT HE’D BE MISSING FROM THIS YEAR’S CHRISTMAS DINNER.  AND EVERY ONE AFTER.

mmmhmokay so, she was a gymnast, like, super super super good, she was actually on the team to go to the olympics like a year or two after that too ugh im sorry all of this is going to be so fucking sporadic my brain is a mess

okay let me roll this back a pace

\so she grew up in a mostly normal two parent decent white collar life  her mom was kind of distant and off putting but eh  that's just the way it washer dad was an accountant / worked for the mob etc though she didn't find that out til later / it was mostly only suspicions no hard proof etc.they weren't rich they weren't poor she didn't have the best shit but she didn't go hungry either etc she did gymnastics and ballet and track and such she was really really good at gymnastics that ws where most of the free money and time went then her dad gets killed in a hit and run when she's like 12 ish her mom goes super stiff and just basically retreats from life as a whole, she gets super short tempered and any warmth there was just kinda fizzles out, she starts putting more and more pressure on harleen they don't have a nest egg, the mom didn't work, now she has to have an office job, they move to a shitty apartment in the wrong side of town, things are hard and rough and gritty at 14/15 harleen ends up on the team for the olympic gymnastics and blows out her right knee in the second event of the competition

needless to say she's a wreck and she's devastated and there goes everything she's ever worked for meanwhile her mom loses her shit and is like how am i supposed to pay for this how are we supposed to survive now because that was supposed to be their golden ticket so harleen kinda just has an inner mental breakdown and shuts down but just acts like it's no big deal its fine and just kind of self isolates and pushes herself with her recovery and therapy and ends up causing more damage in the long run but she wants to get better faster // which is all really moot because she's never going to be back to that level of competitiveness again and definitely not w/in that limited time frame that is the peak for gymanstics aka she was borderline too old by the time she made it to the olympics the first time so she pretty much ends up just having to rely on herself to take care of herself from that point on because her mom just basically likes to pretend she doesn't exist she throws herself into her schoolwork which -- she was always smart and liked books and school anyway but she really just sort of skimmed along with bare minimum because she was throwing herself into her gymnastics for so long she ends up graduating near the top of her high school class and between her gpa and her 'personal triumph / recovery' story whatever she ends up getting scholarships and grants for college she's always been very hyper sensitive / needy when it came to attention and praise / rewards she always had a lot of trouble with self-worth / needed external validation if she wasn't the best, or at the top of whatever she was doing, she doesn't feel like she's doing good enough / she's always always pushing herself

she finishes her degree early bc she just works her fucking ass off and ends up interning during her doctorate at arkham there's a lot of other misc shit in there of course i mean she has trouble with relationships she needs too much validation and she has too high of expectations for realistic anything she also keeps people at arms length bc she knows they're going to leave / end up disappointing her / end up being disappointed in her she's very obsessive / very orderly and proper with her life everything has its place she files her reports, everything is on schedule or ahead of it, everything is neat and clean, folded, put away, organized, so on because the more she can control it all the better she feels

like everything in her apartment is white or black everything is in cubbies and boxesher cabinet doors are glass etc. etc.neat, organized, tidy very sleek and modern her books are organized by size i mean just like epitome of obsessive she has schedules for everything she schedules time for reading and for her baths and studying and cooking and eating and she schedules the time she has to go out and socialize and and she's super fucking smart and she's really good at her job too, like, in the comics it's indicated that she successfully ( i mean as much as anybody can ever successfully treat) treats / rehabilitates two face and a couple others of the super whacked out bad guys -- at least temporarily -- during her time with them at arkham etc

SO then enters the joker and ???????he's literally the epitome of everything she isn't / everything she can't stand in anyone else ever?i mean he's literally chaos personified ok but he's this MYSTERY and he's chaotic and he's charming and he's enigmatic and he's SO FUCKING SMART even when he's trying to dumb himself down for the fun of it and he's just ? he's this huge fucking puzzle

and she becomes so obsessed with trying to figure it out trying to figure him outhow he works what made him this way who he is and he's so slippery and she gets so frustrated because what's real? what isn't? what's a game? what part is truth and what is lies?and she wants to figure him out / she wants to fix it / she wants to unravel it all and put it all back together

but he's just this tangled web of things that drive her crazy and it hits her obsessiveness so hard and he's so good at manipulation and playing people and he's so good at reading people and using people so he just knows how to push her buttons BUT this all ties back in because in the comics etc you remember that line from the blurb about the fat cats with their diamond pinky rings etc ?

at some point while he's luring her in etc.they're talking about things and i have always headcanoned that he did a lot of push and pull like hannibal lecter did with clarice like i'll show you mine if you show me yours type thing so he ends up learning stuff about her along the way too and one of their sessions, i figure it would be not too long before he convinces her to help him escape he's got a present for her too and it's the mob boss' pinky finger w/ the diamond ring, in the guy's embroidered handkerchief the one that killed her dad that he had killed or at least that's the implication

so yeah it's a really long explanation but that's the connection between that first blurb and the whole point of it being yeah he gives her the guy's pinky i headcanon that she wears that ring on her middle finger or thumb pretty much all the time after he's finally done with making her bonkers

[trb-reacts]

The Raven Boys, Chapter 4

Gansey had once told Adam that he was afraid most people didn’t know how to handle Ronan. What he meant by this was that he was worried that one day someone would fall on Ronan and cut themselves. 

I love this so much, not least because I am very biased for Ronan right now and he just... like [Gansey] was worried that one day someone would fall on Ronan and cut themselves. Like wow, poetry in motion and double meanings. Why am I sensing a Ronan/Adam vibe here?

I mean, I was about to skip over it but: Believing in the supernatural, tolerating Gansey’s troubled relationship with money, and co-existing with Gansey’s other friends. The former two were problematic only when they took time away from Aglionby, and the latter was only problematic when it was Ronan Lynch. There’s definitely something about Ronan and Adam together? Adam seems very much like the guy that also gets along with everyone else in a very distant polite way, except when Ronan Lynch brings out very true and undeniable genuine feelings in him (the good, the bad and especially the ugly).

Or maybe I’m just choosing my ship too soon.

Girlfriend, in fluttering white silk, looked a lot like Brianna, or Kayleigh, or whoever Declan’s last girlfriend had been. They all had blond, shoulder-length hair and eyebrows that matched Declan’s dark leather shoes.

I really don’t like Declan so far, just from the way Gansey and Ronan react to him and his propensity to switch girlfriends. Adam is also weirdly throwing me off here because we’re told that Declan’s lastest girlfriend’s name is Ashley but Adam is kinda insistent on just calling her Girlfriend in this very objectifying way?

He wasn’t quite sure how to put this feeling into concrete terms. It was a stare caught out of the corner of his eye, a set of scuffed footprints in the stairwell that didn’t seem to belong to any of the boys, a library clerk telling him an arcane text had been checked out by someone else right after he had returned it. It wasn’t that Adam wondered if Declan was spying on them. Adam knew he was, but he believed that had everything to do with Ronan and nothing to do with the ley line. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to do a bit of observation.

Intriguing. So Adam is the Practical Friend, which I buy since he is very much a commoner in a high class surrounding that he’s not used to that he just has to notice everything.

Also, messed up brotherly relationship much? Resorting to spying?

Adam watched the way Declan’s lip barely brushed the bottom of Girlfriend’s earlobe as he spoke to her; he looked away just as Declan glanced up.

I don’t know why just this line makes me think that Adam is gay. The focus of this line is very much Declan’s lips doing intimate acts and Adam watching that (being gay) without being seen (outing himself).

Adam was very good at watching without being watched. Only Gansey ever seemed to catch him at it.

I just like the thought that Gansey is very observant and the reason why they’re such close friends. It also gives this other dimension to Gansey, that Adam may be the Practical Friend, but Gansey is not really the Oblivious Friend. Gansey only plays the Oblivious Due To Immense Focus On Other Important Stuff Friend because he can trust Adam to watch his back.

Not the tidy stacks of an intellectual attempting to impress, but the slumping piles of a scholar obsessed. Some of the books weren’t in English. Some of the books were dictionaries for the languages that some of the other books were in. Some of the books were actually Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Editions.

I love this type of characterization so much??? Especially Not the tidy stacks of an intellectual attempting to impress, but the slumping piles of a scholar obsessed.

Adam felt the familiar pang. Not jealousy, just wanting. One day, he’d have enough money to have a place like this. A place that looked on the outside like Adam looked on the inside.

Oh, Adam. Also, I can’t quite figure out what  A place that looked on the outside like Adam looked on the inside means exactly. There’s lots of metaphors for me to parse out in this books, and we’re not even five chapters in.

Girlfriend held her hands to her chest in an unconscious reaction to masculine nakedness. In this case, the naked party was not a person, but a thing: Gansey’s bed, nothing but two mattresses on a bare metal frame, sitting baldly in the middle of the room, barely made. It was somehow intimate in its complete lack of privacy.

I do love the image of Gansey’s bed as an island in the sea of books and there’s something about it that speaks of his obsession, like he spent all those money on books that he could careless about the place he sleep in. Masculine nakedness, I’m not sure where that comes in. Ideas?

Adam was struck, as he occasionally was, by Gansey’s agelessness: an old man in a young body, or a young man in an old man’s life.

Adam’s really observant. I had a feeling of Gansey like that, but he describes it so well with his comparison.

There were two Ganseys: the one who lived inside his skin, and the one Gansey put on in the morning when he slid his wallet into the back pocket of his chinos. The former was troubled and passionate, with no discernible accent to Adam’s ears, and the latter bristled with latent power as he greeted people with the slippery, handsome accent of old Virginia money. It was a mystery to Adam how he could not seem to see both versions of Gansey at the same time.

I like it and I’m curious to see how the other slipper Gansey who is born in money acts.

He knocked fists with Adam. Coming from Gansey, the gesture was at once charming and self-conscious, a borrowed phrase of a another language.

Gansey and Adam, both charmingly awkward in speaking the other’s vernacular.

She glanced at Adam. Her eyes didn’t linger, but still, he remembered the fray on the shoulder of his sweater. Don’t pick at it. She’s not looking at it. No one else notices it.

With effort, Adam squared his shoulders and tried to inhabit the uniform as easily as Gansey or Ronan.

Why, hello, Imposer Syndrome. I do really feel for Adam. This is such a nice detail to include. Also, mentions of Gansey and Ronan but not Noah? I’m very curious about the fourth member of their group now.

Ashley blinked vapidly, then said, "Sounds like a metaphor." Perhaps she wasn’t as dumb as they’d thought.

Rude. Just because she’s with Declan?

He left out the part about how he believed the eternally sleeping Glendower would grant a favor to whoever woke him. He left out the part about how it haunted him, this need to find this long-lost king.

And the award for obsessiveness goes to none other than Gansey. Also, though, why? What favor does he need granted? Why is this need to find the long-lost king haunting him so much that it hurts?

Some days, some rotten days, Adam believed the former, and only barely. But being Gansey’s friend meant that more often he hoped for the latter. This was where Ronan, much to Adam’s dissatisfaction, excelled: His belief in the supernatural explanation was unwavering. Adam’s faith was imperfect.

And the barely disbelief feels like betrayal, in some ways, to Adam, when Gansey had reached out to him. I’m also getting a very opposite attracts vibe from Ronan and Adam. I think Adam’s faith is imperfect only because he is practical and believes very much in forging his own destiny like Blue. Ronan and Gansey have what Adam wants to have - money, power, connection -, sees that forging their own destiny isn’t really a thing even with those things, and so turn to the faith in supernatural.

Or so that’s what I think so far with the stuff that I’ve read. Maybe I’m reaching too much and later details will prove me wrong.

"That’s Noah," Declan said. He said it in a way that confirmed Adam’s assumption: Monmouth Manufacturing and the boys who lived in it were a tourist stop for Declan and Ashley, a conversation piece for a later dinner.

Why, just why? It’s like using a dog to start a conversation with a cute girl. Except now Declan dehumanize them to dogs and parade the boys around like clowns, turns around to his girlfriend with laughing eyes to say, “aren’t they just so strange?”

"Oh! Your hand is cold." Ashley cupped her fingers against her shirt to warm them. "I’ve been dead for seven years," Noah said. "That’s as warm as they get."

I can just imagine Noah saying this in such a deadpan way that no one would know if he’s telling a joke or being serious.

Ronan and Declan Lynch were undeniably brothers, with the same dark brown hair and sharp nose, but Declan was solid where Ronan was brittle. Declan’s wide jaw and smile said, Vote for me while Ronan’s buzzed head and thin mouth warned that this species was poisonous. "Ronan," Declan said. On the phone with Adam earlier, he had asked, When will Ronan not be available? "I thought you had tennis." "I did," Ronan replied.

?? I thought Declan was gonna stop by when Ronan has class, not tennis. Also, the idea that Ronan is brittle fits oddly well, along with his appearance that warned he’s poison. I’m thinking about poisonous plants and self-protection via self-destruction, since the only way for Ronan to poison someone is for someone to take a bite out of him and harm him first.

As he pulled Ashley out into the tiny stairwell and down the stairs, Adam heard the beginnings of damage control: He has problems, I told you, I tried to make sure he wouldn’t be here, he’s the one who found Dad, it messed him up, let’s go get seafood instead, don’t you think we look like lobster tonight? We do.

I’m sorry and excuse me, what WTF? Wow, Declan, wow, really? Why did you even go there in the first place? Also, he’s the one who found Dad, it messed him up. Is this hinting that Ronan found their father’s dead body after he committed suicide or I was just obsessing too much about Kakashi and Sakumo recently?

I also just remembered there’s three of these brothers. I’m gonna assume Declan is the oldest if he holds the key to Ronan’s freedom (tho that seems odd to me seeing as how Declan doesn’t seem to quite able to hold Ronan’s leash at all, even in this short conversation), I’m wondering in a I-Don’t-Really-Want-To-Meet-Him-Way if the other brother’s just as bad.

Ronan’s expression was still incendiary. His code of honor left no room for infidelity, for casual relationships. It wasn’t that he didn’t condone them; he couldn’t understand them.

I can buy that, tho I’m wondering if Ronan is really only angry at Declan because Declane switches girlfriends a lot (hence the reference to infidelity) and does it really have nothing at all to do with the brothers’ tumult relationship or the fact that Declan seems to be constantly talking down at him and talking shit about him.

Ronan was not really Gansey’s problem, either, in Adam’s opinion, but they’d had this argument before.

I beg differ, Adam. When you’re friends, everyone is each other’s problem.

Ronan looked chastened, but Adam knew better. Ronan wasn’t sorry for his behavior; he was only sorry that Gansey had been there to see him.

Aww, interesting. From ‘I didn’t take notes for you because I thought you died in a ditch’ to ‘I’m sorry that you had to see this ugly side of me’.

But surely Gansey knew that as well as Adam. He ran his thumb back and forth across his bottom lip, a habit he never seemed to notice and Adam never bothered to point out. Catching Adam’s gaze, he said

Lips again. Like, when I write I have the tendency to over focus on the lips quirking, hand gesturing, eyes looking, but this is Adam looking at Gansey’s habit with his lips and just... never bothering to point it out and always very aware of it. But here’s also Gansey showing that he always knows more than he points out or lets on, like with Ronan and now Adam, since he catches Adam’s gaze as he looks.

Because of his money and his good family name, because of his handsome smile and his easy laugh, because he liked people and (despite his fears to the contrary) they liked him back, Gansey could’ve had any and all of the friends that he wanted. Instead he had chosen the three of them, three guys who should’ve, for three different reasons, been friendless.

Okay, it’s done. Everyone can go home now. This sums everything up about them so nicely that I’m just like let’s stay here forever. The story doesn’t need to go on. Let them be frozen in this period of youth and friendships despite odds.

Also, Gansey is obviously the center of their friendships so when he dies, I can just imagine all of the others breaking down and shattering in different ways and when that happens, all of them will cut each other with the sharp edges of their broken remains.

"I’m not coming," Noah said. "Need some more alone time?" Ronan asked. "Ronan," Gansey interjected. "Set your weapons to stun, will you? Noah, we won’t make you eat. Adam?"

More eccentricities. Why doesn’t Noah eat?

Also,  Set your weapons to stun. That’s such an odd phrase to say, but coming from Gansey, it works? I also think here we see a bit of the other side of Gansey. When he comes out of his obsession long enough to bring his friends together, i think we can see a bit of the other side of Gansey that Adam mentions, the slippery side of Gansey that knows what he wants and knows exactly how to get it.

But Gansey and Adam sought Glendower for different reasons. Gansey longed for him like Arthur longed for the grail, drawn by a desperate but nebulous need to be useful to the world, to make sure his life meant something beyond champagne parties and white collars, by some complicated longing to settle an argument that waged deep inside himself. Adam, on the other hand, needed that royal favor.

I... still don’t really get it? The more that’s revealed, the more befuddled I get.

Even though Ronan was snarling and Noah was sighing and Adam was hesitating, he didn’t turn to verify that they were coming. He knew they were. In three different ways, he’d earned them all days or weeks or months before, and when it came to it, they’d all follow him anywhere.

And their journey continues, this odd band of rich misfits. This chapter as a whole reminds me a bit of a fanfic analysis after everything said and done occurred.  

[smoaking-greenarrow]

Right Girl Chapter One: First Sight

Felicity meets Oliver after she transfers to Starling Academy, a high school she never wanted to step foot in.

Read Chapter Two: Second Chances on AO3! 

Being the new girl in high school was always hard, but mom was forcing me to go to a prep school now; one that I didn't even believe we could afford. I guess after being kicked out of three other schools, she didn't have very much of a choice.

I wasn't heartless. I felt terrible that my mother had to send me here; almost as much as I hated the idea of having to deal with privileged, idiotic stoners all day. It would be worse than the idiotic jocks I had to deal with at my old schools. I knew I wouldn't be dealing with football players here though. The school didn't even have a football team. I was a little curious to do an observational study on which form of boy was worse; the jocks who tried to get into your pants by flexing and slapping your ass when you walked by, or the rich boys who tried to get into your pants by flaunting their money in your face and revving the engines of their fancy cars.

This might be the worst school I've ever been to, but I also knew that I had to try to play nice. For my mom.

I could play the part, I could blend in. I had the blonde hair to get me started, but if I'd learned anything, it was that looks only got you so far, and if I wanted to fly under the radar here, I couldn't tear down any cheerleaders and I couldn't verbally ruin the prep squad of boys I knew would be interested to meet me. New girls at school are like shiny toys to high school boys. The guys always have to find out if we're worth the effort of playing games with; if it's worth it to chase us, as long as we sleep with them soon after. I'd have to play along this time, even though I knew everything inside of me would want to shove my high heel into their crotches.

I took a deep breath, glancing at myself in the mirror before stepping out of my car and into the sunny parking lot. I pulled at my dress, adjusting the fabric, my heels tapping on the pavement as I lifted my chin. All eyes were on me. The problem with private schools is how small they are; there weren't actually that many families in this city that could afford Starling Academy. These kids were all of the children of all of the businessmen, politicians, and lawyers that lived outside of The Glades.

Everyone noticed me, and I was pretty sure that the entire school had gotten a nice long stare, or glare, by the time I reached the school's office. "Felicity," The receptionist smiled as I walked in, as if she knew exactly who I was already.

I would have rolled my eyes, but I was dedicated to playing nice here. So I smiled back. "Hi," I glanced down at her name tag, "Sharon. Nice to meet you."

She blushed, "I try to give all the new kids here a warm welcome. Here's a printed copy of your class schedule, in case you need it. You start with Mr. Baird's Statistics course in room 311. I've asked this lovely first-year to show you where the class is, since she decided to skip it yesterday."

I turned around to look at the brown haired girl slouching in the chair behind me. She looked equally as thrilled as I felt to be here. "I'm Felicity Smoak." I said, smiling as sweetly as I could and holding out my hand.

"Thea," She answered, ignoring my hand and standing up. This is why I have a hard time playing nice, I thought as I dropped my hand. "Stats is this way," she wandered into the hallway without another word. I gave Sharon another smile before following my welcoming tour guide. She glanced at me as she walked ahead, towards the staircase, eyeing my outfit. "Nice," she turned her back to me again, "you'll fit in here just fine." I took in her jean shorts and ripped Metallica t-shirt.

"I thought they had a 'professional attire' dress code here." I said, smirking at her converse sneakers.

"Not when your family donated the whole west wing of the building." she flashed me a sarcastic, annoyed smile.

"I see," I said, following her around the corner and onto the third floor. "So, Thea, what should I know about Starling Academy?"

Thea leaned against the lockers outside of room 311, "Stats isn't worth your time," she gestured her hand for me to go in.

I looked at her, and all I could really see was an angry, confused girl who was trying to be cooler than she really was. "Oh yeah? Then why, as a freshman, are you taking a 300 level course in it?" Thea glanced away, and I stepped closer. "See, I have a feeling that you're smarter than you want people to know. You think that the edgy outfits and 'I don't give a shit' demeanor will make people leave you alone, but you're not actually sure that you want to be the loner."

Her eyes darted to meet mine, and I watched as anger flashed. "You think you know me? You don't know the first thing about me."

I shrugged, "Rich girl raised with a silver spoon in her mouth lashes out due to the pressure to become what mommy and daddy want her to be."

Thea glared, "You think you have me figured out, huh?"

"I've known people like you. And your plan won't work." I said, wondering how long she'd go through the 'I'm an edgy, angsty teen' phase before she grew up and decided to become the trophy wife of a Mayor or CEO.

I turned on my heel and headed for the door. "Yours won't either." She responded. I gave her one last look before going into the classroom, and watched as she bailed on class again, storming off down the hallway. Rich kids were predictable, if anything.

During lunch, I sat at one of the giant, round tables. Alone. It was like they chose these tables, big enough to seat fifteen students, just to make the ones who sat by themselves feel even lonelier. But it did give me the opportunity to watch. I watched and analyzed the cliques. The boys pretty much all looked the same; tall, muscular, and handsome. They also all seemed to mostly be friends, of course with the occasional outcasts and nerds who were probably here on scholarships rather than paid for by their wealthy family trust fund.

The girls were what interested me though. Those differences were much more noticeable. There was the cheerleader clique, obvious by their uniforms; the honor student clique, obvious by their noses hidden in text books; the lacrosse girls, obvious by their braided hair and loud voices yelling about a game this weekend; the artists, the musicians, the 'I'm in every club' girls that were bust planning prom or something; and of course the stoners, where I could easily see my new friend Thea sneaking out of the cafeteria and ducking behind the building.

I rolled my eyes, typical.

"Hi,"

I looked up to see a dark haired boy with bright blue eyes standing above me. "Hello," I said, putting my apple down. He hesitated, like he was nervous. I watched as he glanced back at his buddies, who were all nudging each other and giggling. I rolled my eyes. "Please, sit, give them something to pat you on the back for."

The boy cocked his head to the side, his eyebrow raising at my comment, and I bit my lip. Nice, Felicity. Way to not be snarky.

He sat down beside me though, throwing one more glance over his shoulder. "I'm Tommy."

I nodded, holding out my hand. "Felicity."

"I know."

I raised an eyebrow, "Oh do you?"

"Well, yeah. This school only has 500 kids, it's kind of easy to recognize a new face when you've spent the past three years looking at the rest of them."

I nodded again, I didn't really know what else to say. To be honest, I wasn't really used to talking to boys. I usually scared them off through sarcasm, or I just talked computers and they got bored enough that they'd leave me alone. Luckily, I was saved by the bell. "Well Tommy," I said, jumping up from my seat, "It was really nice to meet you."

"Yeah...you too, Felicity." He walked beside me as I threw my things in the trash, and I eyed him suspiciously. "Sorry," he said, laughing at himself, "I bet the last thing you want is some random guy trying to hit on you on your first day."

I raised an eyebrow, "Is that what you're doing?"

His face got red, "Well, no. I was just wondering if you'd want to stop by a party tonight. It's right on the beach, tonight at 10:00."

"With you?" I asked.

"Uh, no, not necessarily, I mean, we can definitely call it that if you want, but I just thought, you know, you being new and all, that I'd invite you. I could introduce you to everyone. I'm sure most of the school will be there, start of the year party and all. We're having a bonfire. You'll see it when you pull into the parking lot, it'd be hard to miss."

I tried to read his expression, wondering if this was some new girl hazing thing. The kid just looked nervous and optimistic. I sighed. If I wanted to survive this school without getting kicked out, I needed to make friends. "Sure."

He smiled, relief and happiness washing over him. "Okay. I'll see you there, then."

It was my last class of the day and I couldn't stop glancing up at the clock. Not only was English my least favorite subject, but the teacher was droning on about Romeo and Juliet, a play I had read every year since middle school, and at every school I'd ever been to. As soon as the bell rang I sprang from my seat and started shoving my books into my bag. "Hey," a voice said from behind me. I sighed, turning around and taking a deep breath. This was really not the best time to make more friends, I just wanted to get home and curl up in my pajamas and watch reruns of reality television while eating a pint of Ben and Jerry's ice cream.

"Hi," I responded, zipping my bag and putting it over my shoulder. "I'm Felicity, but I'm kind of in a rush to get home," I said, smiling and rolling my eyes as I offered my hand to the boy in front of me, "My mom needs my help giving our cat his shots," the boy took my hand hesitantly and shook it while I rambled on like a crazy person in the hopes of him never talking to me again. "He's a slippery little fella, I have to hold him down while my mom injects the shot, it usually involves a lot of screaming by all three of us. And claws. Painful scratching."

He nodded slowly, "Okay...I'll let you get home then..."

"Great," I smiled brightly, "see you tomorrow!" I tapped his shoulder before running off, not bothering to mention that we'd never actually introduced ourselves.

I didn't slow down until I reached my car, avoiding eye contact with every student I passed. Once inside my car, I gave myself two seconds for a little happy dance that I was finally out of that hell hole, until tomorrow morning at least. Tommy passed in front of my car with his herd of friends, including the guy I'd just blown off.

I waved and they both waved back with sheepish smiles. Yikes. No thanks. No love triangles for this girl.

I put my keys in the ignition, more excited to go home than I'd ever been when my car made a familiar, heart dropping noise. The engine rattled and fought to start before screeching and turning over. I sighed, letting out a groan and slamming my head on my steering wheel.

Worst. Day. Ever.

"Do you need help with that?"

I looked up to find my third unwanted boy of my first day at Starling Academy, leaning against the passenger side of the car parked next to me. But at least this one was offering something I needed. "You know how to fix that?" I asked, gesturing toward the hood of my car.

The boy shrugged, "pop it and let me take a look." I popped my hood and he walked over, opening it up as I got out and moved to stand beside him. "Hm," he said, reaching down to fidget with some parts. Grease was on his hands immediately, and I felt a little bit embarrassed until I remembered that he was a preppy boy and some grease on his hands wouldn't hurt him.

"So, you know how to fix it?"

"Not sure yet," he answered. I watched for a moment as he played around with the insides of my car until I got bored and took a seat on the curb. He glanced down at me from over his shoulder, "You can sit in your car if you want. Or mine." to which I only shrugged, watching the people as they passed, getting into their own cars and going home. "I'm Oliver. Queen."

"Felicity. Smoak."

He nodded, turning his attention back to my car, "So Felicity, how'd you end up at SA?"

"How did you?" I shot back without thinking. It was a relatively safe question, unless you were me and had a record of not meshing very well with high school administrations.

Oliver glanced down at me again, obviously wondering why I wouldn't answer his question. "My parents paid for the west wing of the school."

I bit my lip, "Your Thea's brother." Part of me felt bad for snapping at a guy who offered me help, and the other part of me didn't want to think of him as a nice guy.

His eyebrows raised in surprise, "Wow, first day and you've already met the elusive Thea Queen. I feel like I haven't seen her at school since it started."

"She's...an interesting girl."

"She's something, all right." He answered, smirking. He clearly wasn't too worried about his sister's behavior, the look on his face seemed like he actually admired her rebellious attitude. It made me curious about her; how I'd written her off as a spoiled rich girl who was going through her defiant phase. "Are you going to answer the question, or should I just keep asking more so you can direct them back at me?"

I narrowed my eyes at him and he chuckled, turning his back to me and looking down at my car. "My mom made me come here," I said hesitantly but honestly.

"Why?" he asked, still adjusting and analyzing the car parts.

I paused, not sure how much I could trust this boy or how much about me I wanted him to know. I had a good feeling about him though, like he was different. And he was currently staying after school to fix my car when he could have just gone home. "I got into some trouble at my old schools."

"Schools?" he asked.

"People aren't always who they seem to be." I mumbled.

He turned to look at me, trying to read me as much as I'd been trying to read him. After a moment of watching me, he smiled sweetly, "Story for another time, then. There's a party tonight, think you might go?" He changed the subject, turning away again.

"Uh," I had forgotten. "I don't know. Some guy named Tommy invited me, but I'm not sure."

"You should," he said, still focused on my car as he shrugged. After a moment of silence he sighed, turning around and wiping his greasy hands on his nice pants. "Look, I don't think that I'll be able to fix this. Why don't I call a tow and have them take it in, and I'll give you a ride home."

I pursed my lips, "Okay. Do we need to find your sister before we go?"

"No," Oliver shrugged, "She finds her own way home." He opened up the passenger door and offered me his hand to help me up. We both glanced down at the grease on his hands. I laughed, picking myself up and getting into his car.

"What's Thea's deal, anyway?" I asked when he rounded the car and got behind the wheel.

"She doesn't like to remind the kids here that she's a Queen. So that means she doesn't acknowledge me at school, and she definitely doesn't let me drive her home."

"Why is she trying so hard to not be a Queen?"

Oliver shrugged as he pulled out of the parking lot, "Queen Consolidated might be a successful business, but my family stepped on a lot of people to get it that way. I think Thea just wants to figure out who she is without the name, so she tries to associate herself with people who don't care about it. But in a school like this, the only people who don't care about your last name are the kids who are too high to care about anything."

As he spoke, he pulled out his phone and dialed, putting it to his ear and glancing at me, looking for my reaction. I wondered what exactly "stepping on a lot of people" meant, but I wasn't sure I actually wanted to know. It was his family's company after all, not his. I listened as he told the tow truck service where my car was, and handed me the phone to give them my address.

After he hung up, I glanced at him, "And you?"

He met my eyes for a moment before looking back at the road, amusement behind his gaze that I wasn't about to drop this interesting conversation about his family. "I've come to terms with it. For now." He replied. I looked out of the front window as he drove, feeling a little bit guilty for the way I'd spoken to Thea Queen. Maybe there was at least one person in this school that I couldn't write off just yet. I glanced at Oliver again. Or two. "What about you, any brothers or rebellious sisters?" He asked.

"No," I said, shaking my head. "Only child."

He smiled at me, and I actually felt nervous. He had a gorgeous smile, one that made me sure the girls at this school were lining up to get his attention. I wondered if he gave it to them. By his easy-going demeanor and friendly attitude, I doubted he had any trouble finding dates. And why was I thinking about his social life? So he could smile at me and make me feel some butterflies, so what? "Hey," I said, looking out the window. "I never told you how to get to my apartment. Where are we going?"

Oliver gestured to his pants, "I was kind of hoping to stop home and change before I dropped you off. I live just a few blocks away. It'll only take a minute. Do you mind?"

I shook my head, curious and happy that I'd get to see where this guy lived.

I wasn't surprised by the mansion we pulled into a minute later, the Queen family ran half the city. The nice half at least. I felt a moment of panic, thinking about the apartment he'd be taking me home to, right at the edge of The Glades. It wasn't the worst apartment in the city at all, but it definitely didn't compare to this place. I shook my head, not realizing that he had gotten out until he opened my door. I didn't care what people thought of me, so I shouldn't care what Oliver Queen thinks about our apartment.

He lead me into the Queen mansion silently, probably guessing that I needed the silence to process the giant home. "Mom!" he yelled as he dropped his backpack in the foyer.

"Yes, Oliver, in here." He smiled and gestured for me to follow him into a study, where his mother sat on a sofa doing some kind of paperwork, spread out on the table in front of her and on the cushion beside her. She glanced up quickly as we walked in, ready to go back to the papers, but my presence seemed to catch her attention.

"Mom, this is Felicity Smoak, she's new at school."

"Hi, Mrs. Queen." I said, smiling, "It's nice to meet you." I offered my hand. The woman shook my hand while eyeing me the whole time, in that cautious mother way. Jeesh, hello Ice Queen.

"Moira, please. Pleasure to meet you, Miss Smoak." She glanced at her son again, "You're bringing her through the front door, what a refreshing change."

My mouth dropped a little as Oliver hissed a sharp "Mom,"

"Where's your sister?" She asked, still barely looking up from her work. If this was the way Oliver and Thea grew up, I couldn't really blame Thea for not wanting to become like this woman; snide remarks and barely acknowledging her son.

"Probably at Ben's again, I'll see her tonight at the bonfire and make sure she comes home though." he promised.

Mrs. Queen sighed, "Please tell her that she needs to call me if she plans on staying the night somewhere else."

"I will."

I glanced at the pictures on the wall as they spoke, plenty of Thea and Oliver, a few family photos, their parents' wedding. I noticed one photo that looked like a summer yacht party or something, that had Tommy in it along with Mr. and Mrs. Queen, Thea, and Oliver. Clearly Tommy was welcome in this family, unlike me it seemed, or any other girl Oliver brought home. I wondered if my judgment was a little off about him. He sneaks girls into his house through the back door? Maybe he was a player and I was just blinded by the smile and the eyes and the hair and the little freckle by his mouth and everything else that made him very attractive to me.

"Well," Oliver said, "I'll be back in a bit, I just stopped to change my pants before I bring Felicity home."

Moira glanced up, and then down at her son's pants, noticing that he was covered in grease for the first time. "What on earth happened to you?" She asked, her eyes amused.

"I...uh, Felicity was having car trouble."

Moira laughed, "Oliver, you don't know the first thing about fixing cars."

My eyes snapped up to Oliver. His lips were pursed as he shook his head at his mother, embarrassed, but I could see the humor in his eyes. He faked it? Who would do that? My mind jumped to the conclusion that he was an asshole trying to get laid, before I realized that he hadn't even touched me; not once, not accidentally, hadn't even tried. I couldn't help the giant grin that spread across my face. "What?" I asked.

Oliver glanced up at me hesitantly, "Thanks, mom." he said.

Moira was distracted by the paperwork in front of her again, but she glanced up at him with a warm smile, "Hm? Oh, you're welcome honey."

"Uh, my room's upstairs," he said, leading me back out into the foyer and up the staircase.

I followed quickly on his heels. "You tried to fix my car for fifteen minutes." I said.

"Yes," He sighed. He got to the top of the stairs and lead me down a hallway.

"You have grease all over you."

"I'm aware." He replied, opening the door to his room and walking over to his bureau. I followed him inside and sat down on his bed as he rummaged through his drawer and pulled out a pair of pants. He looked over at me as he unbuttoned his pants, and I raised an eyebrow. Rolling his eyes, he took his dirty pants off and pulled on the pair of jeans he'd picked out. Once clothed again, he shoved his hands in his pockets and met my eyes, not looking away this time.

"Well." I said. He continued to stare. "Why?"

"Why did I say that I could fix your car when I don't have the slightest idea on how to fix cars?" I nodded. He sighed again, "I saw an opportunity." He didn't look away from my eyes as he spoke. Under any other circumstances, I probably would have ran from that room screaming, or at least been totally creeped out that a guy would pretend to fix my car just to talk to me. But this was different, it felt different. I liked that he did it.

"To...?" I teased, "See if you could fix an engine?"

He threw me a look, glancing away with the hint of a smile pulling at his lips, "No. To talk to you."

"Well, why would you need such a messy excuse? Saying hello in the hallway would have been a lot less trouble."

Oliver shrugged, "My car was right next to yours...I heard that awful sound it made when you tried to start it...you looked so defeated...I figured that even if I couldn't magically become a mechanic long enough to fix it, that I could at least offer you a ride." Oliver sat down beside me on the edge of his bed and I looked at his eyes again. He laughed lightly, "Definitely on the list of stupid ideas I've had."

"Are you a nice guy?" I asked. The question kind of slipped out. It'd been in my head for the past hour of knowing him, but I hadn't meant to say it out loud. I usually made those judgments about men for myself. And the answer was usually no.

"I hope so." He said quietly, not looking away, letting me try to decipher if he could be trusted or not. Half of me was trying to figure out if I wanted to let him in, the other half of me was wondering if he was going to try to kiss me, or if he'd stop me if I tried. "You've been hurt quite a bit, haven't you?...By too many people."

I looked away now, uncomfortable that he could read me like I could read everyone else. "I guess you could say that."

He smiled slightly, "Story for another time, then." He said softly, his words from earlier when he'd asked about what brought me to Starling Academy. He could see my boundaries, and he didn't push them, but his comment told me that he wanted to know. Sometime. I watched his eyes for another moment before I heard him take a deep breath, "I should get you home."

"Yeah," I replied, standing up. There was a pit forming in my stomach, wondering if Oliver Queen could actually see through me, if he'd actually try to hear those stories, to get to know me. But the knot was there because I was afraid of what would happen if he did, or if I could even let him.

"I have nothing to wear," I groaned, throwing more clothes out of my closet and onto my floor. My mom laughed from the doorway of my room. "It's not funny. What do you wear to a party on a beach? Dress? Jeans? Sweatshirt? Should I bring a bathing suit?"

"Wear whatever you'll be comfortable in, honey."

"Says the woman who wears six inch stilettos and body con dresses every day." I mumbled. My mom was in the middle of rolling her eyes at me when the doorbell rang and she lunged for the hallway. "No!" I screamed, "Please mom, go hide in your room!" I hissed at her as I tried to gain my balance and chase after her. She was surprisingly quick for a woman in stilettos. She reached the door before me, and swung it open with an excited squeal at the first sight of Oliver. I groaned, hiding my face in my hands.

"He's cute!" she "whispered" to me. I groaned more, shaking my head as Oliver chuckled. "Hi handsome, I'm Felicity's mom. You can call me Donna."

"Hi Donna." he shook her hand, "I'm Oliver."

My mom giggled. She giggled. I grabbed Oliver's hand and pulled him inside, slamming the door and gently nudging my mother out of the way. "You don't really look ready," Oliver commented, his eyes roaming from my face, to my robe, to my bare feet.

"Oh honey, go finish getting ready. I'll keep Oliver here company."

I threw a glare at my mom, continuing to pull Oliver through the apartment and into my room, "I just have to change. He can sit in here." I said, slamming my bedroom door too. I glanced at Oliver, wearing the same jeans he'd changed into earlier and a plain gray t-shirt that hugged his body in all of the right places. I nodded to myself, stripping off my skirt and pulling on jean shorts. I watched as Oliver awkwardly glanced away. "What?" I teased, "Never seen a girl in her underwear before?"

Oliver continued to study my ceiling. "Uh, no, I was just thinking how strange it is that we've barely known each other for six hours and we've already seen each other without our clothes on."

I smoothed my face, staring at him blankly, "Did you just flirt with me?"

"What?" he asked, his eyes meeting mine, "No. I wasn't-I was just saying-" He let out a breathy laugh, "You're funny."

I shrugged, pulling a sweater over my tank top and slipping flip flops onto my feet. "You're fun to tease." I nudged him as I passed, leading him back out into the kitchen where my mom was pouring a glass of wine. "I'll be back later mom," I said over my shoulder, doing my best to drag Oliver away quickly.

He hesitated, "It was nice to meet you, Donna."

"You too, handsome. Have fun, kids! And take care of my girl!" She yelled as I closed the door.

Oliver looked down at me, his eyes amused. "What?" I asked.

"Your mom really cares about you." He said, heading down the stairs. I wondered if that was a change of pace for him, but decided not to ask about his mother. Instead I let him lead me to his car and open the door for me.

"I should tell you now," I said as I sat down. He stopped with one hand on the roof of the car and other on the passenger door, leaning down to hear me. "I'm not very good at parties." Oliver laughed before closing my door and rounding the car to get in.

"Why do you say that?"

"I don't make friends very easily." I sighed, looking out of my window.

Oliver glanced at me, and then smiled, gesturing between us with his index finger, "I think you make friends just fine."

I pretended not to be affected by his use of 'friends' when it came to us, since I wasn't really sure what it was exactly that he hoped to have with me. I wasn't sure if he was interested in me or not. I couldn't even say for certain if he thought I was pretty. He didn't act like he hated me or anything...but maybe it was only friendship that he was looking for.

"Special circumstances," I shrugged, trying to play it cool. I barely knew him, I couldn't expect him to get the same butterfly-ish feeling about me that I had about him. "I was actually trying to flee that parking lot today."

He laughed gently, "Well, I'm happy you have an awful car then."

"We can't all have nice ones like this." I said, running my hand along the dashboard.

"It was partially a gift. My dad gave it to me on my sixteenth birthday, but I worked to pay for some of it."

I laughed, "Wow, and here I thought the kids at SA had never worked a day in their lives."

Oliver shrugged one shoulder, "My dad always said that things were more rewarding if you worked to earn it. I've tried a few different jobs here and there since I was fourteen. I wanted to see what it was that I wanted to do with my life."

"What was the consensus?" I asked.

Oliver bit his lip, seeming a little uncomfortable, "At the thriving age of eighteen I am preparing to start my leadership of Queen Consolidated."

I raised my eyebrows. After all that talk about Thea finding her own way, it seemed a little weird for Oliver to want to follow in his parents' footsteps. He seemed to have more admiration for Thea's free spirit than he did for the profession he was stepping into. "Your dad must be proud." I said.

Oliver glanced between me and the road for a long moment, and I knew I'd said something wrong. "He died," he finally said hesitantly, his voice low.

"Oh." I hesitated too, "I'm sorry, Oliver-I didn't realize."

"It's okay," He breathed, adjusting his hands on the steering wheel and keeping his eyes focused on the road now. "It was two years ago, he took the boat out and never came back."

"He...I mean, did they find the boat?"

"Yeah, at the bottom of the ocean, fifty miles from here."

"I'm sorry." I said, instinctively touching his forearm. Obviously he was still hurt by his father's death.

Oliver glanced down at my hand and then up to me. "It's okay, Felicity. But thank you." I didn't move my hand or stop looking at him. I wasn't sure what it was about him, but it felt like I'd known him for a very long time, much more than just a few hours at least. And I wanted to know everything about him, about his family, his life; anything he was willing to tell me. Well, that's a scary thought. Why was I so interested in knowing him? How did I already care so much? I didn't even know that I was capable of letting new people into my heart, but if every conversation with Oliver was like this, learning more about each other and talking like this, I knew that he was about to nudge his way right in there.

"If you ever need...I know I'm not really the most open person," I struggled for the right words, "But if you ever want to talk about it..."

He nodded slowly, moving his body so that he was facing me, and I realized that he wasn't driving anymore. My hand slid from his arm as I looked out of the window, noticing now that we were in a parking lot next to the beach, right by the party. I could see dozens of people on the beach and the giant bonfire Tommy had said I wouldn't miss.

"Felicity," I turned back to look at Oliver, who was still staring at me. I felt those damn butterflies again. "I just want to say...that I've really liked spending time with you today. And I'd really like to do it more." I bit my lip and his eyes flickered down as he watched, "Just so you know." He murmured, his eyes still on my mouth. Well, if he was going to stare at me like that...I leaned forward a little, trying to give him the green light to kiss me.

I'd just noticed the party and all of the people five seconds earlier, but the knocking on Oliver's window still had me gasping and jumping out of my seat. I would have seen the guy coming too, if I hadn't been trying to telepathically beg Oliver Queen to kiss me in the front seat of his car...at a party...after six hours since meeting him. Stupid girl.

The boys outside made sexual hand gestures and Oliver waved them off, "We should get out there." He said, his eyebrows coming together in...concern?

I just nodded, stepping out of the car and waiting by my door while he tried to brush off the frat boys that had swarmed his entrance with their annoying window tapping. I raised an eyebrow, okay, so he's popular. No surprise there. I kind of figured that much just by his model-like face and muscles.

Oliver nudged them, telling them to get lost, before coming up beside me. "Sorry," he said shyly, like he was embarrassed by the whole thing. I shrugged, and he reached for my hand for a moment before thinking differently and shoving it in his pocket.

"What are you worried about?" I asked.

Oliver looked at me for a long moment, "Are you always this direct?" He asked, a small smile pulling one corner of his mouth up.

It was contagious, and adorable. I couldn't help but smile back. "Yes. Sometimes I speak before I think. It's been an issue since first grade." I rolled my eyes and he laughed.

"I just don't want people to start rumors about you." He said slowly, "Showing up here with me, you know..."

"Ah," I said, the concerned look on his face when his buddies caught our almost kiss made sense now. "You sure you just don't want your classmates to know that you're a giant dweeb for pretending you could fix my car?"

Oliver smirked at me, "Don't you think I'd be walking in here bragging that I spent the afternoon with you if that was the case? You're gorgeous, Felicity. And this school is desperate for drama and gossip; they'd eat it right up if I told them all I spent some time with you. Every guy here would be jealous. I just don't want them talking about you more than they already are; especially not to gossip, I know how they work...I lied about being able to fix your car, but the drama mill turns it into something...not as innocent as it was."

I nodded slowly, trying to understand why he cared that much, but I ended up just replying, "So what?"

"I know it sounds silly," he sighed, "Just wait til you talk to some of these people." He said, heading towards the fire, and I groaned as I followed after him.

For the first half hour of the party, Oliver stayed by my side; showing me to the keg and getting me a drink, and then coming down to the water with me to put our feet in the water. Then we went up to the bonfire and he sat beside me on a log where I listened to him joke with some of the boys from school. It kind of made me wonder what the point of his little speech was, we were getting looks from people anyway, and I could tell they were talking about us. People had seen him helping me after school, and then we show up to the party together...I wouldn't be surprised if his so called drama mill started some crazy rumors just based on that. What really had me worried about my sanity though was that I didn't really care. I kind of liked the idea of people talking, thinking that Oliver Queen liked me. Would it really be a bad thing if people thought there was something going on between us? Would they even be wrong?

The party wasn't even going on for an hour when a very drunk, very annoying boy stumbled over to the log that Oliver and I were sitting on and squished between us. "Cat girl," he slurred. He looked like every other guy at the party, until I actually looked at his face. The guy from English class. "Is your cat all right? Did he get his shots okay?"

Oliver gave me a quizzical look, and I could see the wheels turning in his head, I hadn't mentioned having a cat to him, and he definitely hadn't seen one in my apartment. Because we didn't have one. "Yes," I responded. "Little Fluffy is pulling through."

The boy nodded, relieved. "Good." He said, like he'd actually been worrying about it since I made up the excuse.

I burst into laughter, and Oliver did too. The boy glanced between us. "What's so funny? Fluffy could have been seriously hurt, Oliver. It's not funny."

"You're right, Ben. Definitely not funny." He said, looking over at me, still laughing.

I bit my lip, drunk Ben was clearly very concerned about my imaginary cat. "I'm going to go grab another drink." I said, standing up. "You want one?" I asked Oliver.

"I do." Ben replied.

"I don't think that's a good idea," I said, taking Oliver's cup and making my way to the kegs. I knew that I would be hating every second of this party if it weren't for Oliver. I knew that drunk Ben, and all of the drunk boys like him, would have pissed me off if Oliver wasn't there. I wasn't sure how I felt about Starling Academy just yet, but Oliver was starting to change my mind about what I expected it to be. I didn't have a problem with that. I welcomed it. If I could get through my last year of high school without any incidents and actually having a little bit of fun, maybe I wouldn't feel so much bottled up anger all of the time; if I could actually open up and talk to Oliver about everything I'd done and been through. But those were some pretty heavy 'if's'.

As I approached the kegs, a tall brunette girl was up on one of them, her hands on either side while two boys held her legs up in the air, and another held the nozzle in her mouth. The others cheered. Apparently she was breaking her record from last weekend's party. Okay, maybe this would be my only SA party, I thought, rolling my eyes as the girl came down from her keg stand. She wiped her mouth and high-fived one of the boys who had been holding her legs. I waited. But the excitement wasn't going down. So I pushed my way through the crowd to the kegs, filling my cup and then Oliver's.

The girl from the keg stand glanced at me, "Is that for Oliver?"

I just gave her a shrug. I'd met my 'meeting new people' limit for the day, and if she was going to come at me with an accusing question rather than an introduction, I saw no point in being pleasant. "Maybe you should've fetched his drink a little quicker." She sneered, her lips curling in a smile.

I stared at her, and she quirked her eyebrow, nodding to the fire. I followed her gaze to Oliver, sitting beside a blonde who seemed very intoxicated. Her hands were all over him. He was gently pushing her hands away, but they seemed to be in a pretty intense conversation. "Oops," Keg girl sang.

I spun around to glare at her, "Who the hell are you?" I asked. My anger wasn't even at this girl. I'd seen pettier, bitchier girls than this, but it wasn't like she didn't deserve it.

"I'm Laurel. Oliver's ex. Or should I say one of Oliver's exes."

I shook my head. Uh-uh, no way. I was not about to buy into some lame gossip without hearing who she was to Oliver, from Oliver. I handed the girl my beer, "Seems like you're the jealous one. Maybe you need this more than I do. Enjoy your keg stand and frat boys, Laurel; seems like the attention is what you live for," I spat, unleashing all of my ruthless anger from this school on her. Laurel's mouth dropped slightly as she took the drink. "Have a nice night." I said, turning around but not really sure where I was going. I glanced at Oliver, and met his eyes immediately. He still had a drunk blonde murmuring something in his ear, but my heart raced for a moment because I had his attention. I wondered how long he'd been watching, if he noticed my little riff with his ex. I could tell that my face gave something away, because his eyebrows pushed together and he stared right at me. He shoved the blonde's hands off of him now and stood up, walking towards me.

The next thing I knew, sirens were blasting as six police cars pulled up to the sand and officers with flashlights came towards us. The party-goers were running in all directions. Oliver looked behind him, "Sara, come on!" He shouted. The blonde girl that was groping him seconds before looked up and noticed the police, and her face dropped. She stumbled her way to us and Oliver took my hand, guiding me to the car as the blonde trailed behind us. "There's another exit at the back of the parking lot," Oliver said, pulling out his keys as we rounded the car. "Can you help Sara into the back?"

"She's coming with us?" I asked. Stupidly. Of course she was.

"Her dad is the chief of police. I don't want her getting into any trouble."

"I'm right here, you know." Sara said, looking at me, and then down at Oliver's hand in mine. Her head cocked to the side, "Who is this, Oliver?"

"This," I responded, feeling my claws coming out for my second cat fight of the evening, "Is Felicity." I opened the back door for her and Sara nodded once as she passed me, getting into the backseat. I glanced back at the beach and saw the officers arresting a few of the kids that were too drunk and slow to run away as fast as the others. Once the doors were closed, we took off. "Where are we taking her?...if her dad can't know she's hammered."

Oliver sighed, clutching the steering wheel and looking at Sara in his rear-view mirror before glancing at me. "My house," he said hesitantly, gauging my reaction.

I kept quiet and nodded.

Sara leaned forward, sticking her head between us, "Ollie, you know that was all her, right?"

Oliver sighed, "We can talk about it later, Sara."

"Nooooo, no, no, no." Sara ranted, clearly pissed about something. "You know she called them."

I glanced between the two of them, but Oliver kept his jaw shut tight. "She who called who?" I asked.

"My sister," Sara said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "The cops. Our dad." I was starting to catch on to the fact that whatever was going on was much bigger and deeper than some high school love triangle. Keg girl was drunk girl's sister, and they both had a connection to Oliver...I bit my lip, trying to piece together the unthinkable...Oliver didn't. He couldn't have. Who would do that? When I didn't respond to Sara, she groaned and laid back into the seat.

I threw a look at Oliver, who was watching me out of the corner of his eye. "How do you know Sara and Laurel?" I asked quietly, so that boozy in the back wouldn't hear. I glanced behind me, and Sara's eyes were closed. If there was one think I envied about getting that drunk, it was how quickly people could fall asleep.

Oliver raised one shoulder, and I could see the tension in his face and body. "It's a small school." He said so softly that I could barely hear him.

I glared. "I mean it." For our first day of knowing each other, we'd done a pretty good job of having open conversation, and I would have guessed that I'd be the one to put walls up and hide things, not him.

He sighed, "I was dating Laurel a year ago." I waited a moment, but it didn't seem like he planned on saying any more.

"Oliver, please..." I whispered, tilting my head until he glanced at me, and I raised an eyebrow.

"I was dating Laurel a year ago...until I cheated on her with her little sister, Sara. Sara was a freshman, and she transferred to a different school a couple of weeks after people found out. I was praised, but Sara...people didn't treat her very well, and nothing I said could stop it." I stayed silent for a moment while I watched him. And then I glanced back at Sara, still passed out. I didn't even know what to say. I turned my head to the windshield and tried to keep my face smooth. Oliver sighed, and I could feel his eyes on me. When I glanced over at him, he tried to smile, but he just looked very...sad. It broke my heart a little bit, and I fought the urge to touch him, to put my hand on his cheek and feel him. Instead I looked away, focusing on the town passing by my window.

I guess I wasn't the only one with some dark secrets.

Tags:

@boo-ritz-radley@olicityforeverqueen @ljanies@newyorkinlove @adiwriting @boo-ritz-radley@bytemegeekette @sarcastic1515 @sandycakes24 @tragically-irrelevant @glittercupcakedreams @standingontheedge-ofme@ymeanidem @sailorchibimoonunicorn @embroidered-fiction@seaolicity @smoak-me @dopecycleblaze @mrsd923@flailykermit @niki-is-amazing @alex-wesley @bandanab310@felicityqueenforever @smkkbert @myhauntedblacksoul@mrsbubblelee @nuksu @not-done-fighting @hopeful-warrior@pleasedontletmedownx @hear-the-banshee-screaming@siriuslyobsessedfangirl @coal000 @alwaysmyownvoice@morganmaybaby @marniforolicity @elizasbodega@albinoturdqueen @olicityfluv @motoughismylife@velvetsteel @almondblossomme @hope-for-olicity@charlinert @geemarie @memcjo @oliverfel4

[adamprrishcycle]

Part 3 (kind of) regarding the demon au… I say kind of but it definitely follows on from this post. It’s pynch basically but there’s rovinsky undertones. This is just Ronan with a lot of inner turmoil. Sorry in advance. p.s. here’s the other demon au post 

On Friday morning the sun rose like a peach on the horizon, expanding up into the cool blue of the sky until sunlight was everywhere. Ronan was the first person to feel the warmth across his face as he sat up on the porch roof at the Barns and for a moment, everything felt okay.

For a week now, he hadn’t been able to sleep. It wasn’t unusual, but it was deliberate, the way it had been after he found his father’s dead body on the driveway one morning in April six years ago. He was warding off nightmares. The only difference was this time the nightmare wasn’t just in his head.

He checked his watch. He hadn’t slept in 32 hours.

He watched the sunrise until it made his eyes water, and then he climbed down off the roof and went inside.

The house was a mess that he couldn’t face, but he managed to dig out his phone from underneath the couch cushion where he’d left it. He had six messages and a missed call.

The first five messages were from Gansey:

Hey, you still coming on friday?

Get here for 4pm and we can grab dinner before the game. Somewhere nice? Your pick :)

I need to know if you’re coming or not, Ronan

Don’t make me drive all the way down there to get an answer from you

Pick up your phone

The last message was from Declan:

You mad at Gansey or something? He says you’re not answering him. How’s things? Matthew says he saw you last week. We should all get together sometime soon.

Ronan sighed and decided he’d deal with it after he’d showered, he might feel more human then. He shoved the phone back under the cushion and went upstairs.

He averted his eyes from the mirror as he entered the bathroom, even though it was covered by a thick patchwork blanket. He’d covered all the mirrors in the house after dreaming that every time he saw his reflection, Joseph Kavinsky was standing right behind him. What scared him most now was that he had no idea where Kavinsky was. He’d threatened revenge on the whole world, then let Ronan drive away and he hadn’t seen him since. Ronan had doubted his sanity. Ronan hadn’t left the house in a week.

He showered with the curtain open, uncaring when water splashed onto the floor, making the tiles slippery. When he got out, he dried off and got dressed in the same pair of jeans he’d been wearing for a fortnight.

Back in his bedroom, his bed looked inviting, but he quickly pulled a clean shirt on and went back downstairs.

He retrieved his phone and sat down on the couch heavily. He opened his conversation with Gansey and scrolled up and up and up, then back down again. He stared at the blue bubbles filled with Gansey’s words, then he began to tap out a reply. It was a simple question, one that had been on his mind since Saturday.

Is adam still going?

He saw that Gansey started typing back almost instantly. Of course he was up as well.

Yeah he is. Why are you so bothered about this? You have to talk to him sooner or later

I choose later

So you’re not coming?

Ronan didn’t hesitate before replying.

I’ll be there at 4 and we’re eating at that overpriced steakhouse on 5th and you’re paying. Adam can pay for himself though since he’s a stuck up prick

He threw his phone onto the coffee table without waiting for Gansey’s reply and it slid across the surface and fell onto the floor.

He wondered whether Gansey would believe him if he told him about Kavinsky. Probably not. He was beginning to think that he had in fact hallucinated the whole thing. Kavinsky was dead. He couldn’t come back. Ronan knew for a fact that magic was real and that on ley lines, insane amounts of power could make insane things happen. Not enough power to bring someone back from the dead after three years though. Surely no one would want to bring Kavinsky back from the dead. His stomach gave a sharp tug at that. Kavinsky should never have died in the first place.

Ronan woke with a start, his neck aching from being propped up awkwardly against the arm of the couch. He jolted upright, his head still cloudy with sleep. He’d fallen asleep. He lifted his arm to check the time, it had just gone 3pm.

He was going to be late.

He slid off the couch, reaching for his phone under the coffee table and then he grabbed his jacket, his keys and his wallet from by the door before leaving the house.

What remained outside were the leftovers of a mild spring day and when Ronan climbed into the BMW, he threw his jacket onto the passenger seat and rolled the window down as he started the engine.

He considered texting Gansey to let him know he was running late, but then decided that arriving fashionably late without explanation would be more amusing. He needed some sort of amusement.

As he drove, he tried not to think about Kavinsky sitting where he sat, his hands resting on the steering wheel, his face alight despite the shadows beneath them.

He’s dead, he thought suddenly, aggressively. He was losing his mind if he thought he’d actually seen him and spoken to him and sat in the passenger seat while he drove his fucking car. But it had felt so real.

After his father’s death he’d attended some therapy sessions. He skipped most of them, but the ones he did go to left him feeling irritable and angry. He couldn’t give anyone reason to send him there again. Not Gansey, or Adam or Declan.

He circled the campus four times before he found a place to leave his car after deciding quickly that he didn’t want to park in the multistory again. He half jogged to Gansey’s place, but took his time up the path to the house so it wouldn’t look like he was in a rush now that he was half an hour late.

He knocked and mentally prepared himself for one of Gansey’s douche-y friends to open the door, but the reality was much worse.

“Hi,” Adam said without offering a smile, “hit traffic?”

Ronan tried not to stare wide-eyed and open-mouthed and quickly pulled himself together just enough to answer: “yeah, nightmare.”

Adam was wearing dark jeans and a brown leather jacket and his hair was the same as it had always been since Ronan had met him five years ago; a mess.

“Ronan!” Came Gansey’s voice suddenly and Adam stepped aside. His cheeks were pink and he was fastening a watch onto his wrist as he came down the stairs.

“Dick,” Ronan said in acknowledgment, trying to block Adam from his peripheral vision. It didn’t work.

“You’re late,” Gansey said, obviously flustered, “and Adam was early so that makes you even later.”

“Showing me up, Parrish,” Ronan said, glancing at him. He quickly regretted it though because Adam still wasn’t smiling.

Gansey pretended to ignore the awkward atmosphere and shooed them both out of the door before shouting goodbye to someone and locking up behind him.

They walked to the restaurant that Ronan had picked with Gansey in the middle who kept up a constant stream of conversation with Adam, but it took until they arrived and were sat in the window with drinks for it to dawn on Ronan that he’d actually missed hanging out with them like this.

Adam was smiling down at the draught beer Gansey had insisted they all order and Ronan knew he was in trouble. They were both talking to Gansey rather than to each other, but it felt like they were interacting and it felt good. It made a part of Ronan’s overactive and anxious brain go calm for a minute and he knew he’d grow completely attached all over again by the time the evening was over. This was a relapse, no matter what it looked like and Gansey, the self-righteous snake, was probably enjoying every second of it.

“So, how’s Henrietta?” Adam asked suddenly, his eyes turning to Ronan and staying there for the first time. It was strange to be addressed by him directly, even though Ronan had once spent nights under his constant and unwavering attention.

Ronan shrugged now, thinking of ways to lie while telling the truth. “Same as always,” he managed.

“And you?” Adam continued, “how are you?”

Ronan’s mouth was dry from the sudden focus of Adam’s eyes and he quickly took a sip of his drink, giving himself an excuse not to talk as he shrugged again and nodded.

Adam’s eyes skimmed over him and back to Gansey, clearly pissed off and Ronan wanted to apologise, but he didn’t.

“Speaking of Henrietta,” Gansey said with a smile, “this guy in one of my classes just got a new car. Guess what kind it is.”

“Go on,” Adam said.

Gansey glanced at Ronan, then back at Adam. “It’s a Mitsubishi Evolution. Ghost white with an engine that sounds like it’s perpetually fighting for it’s life. Ring any bells?”

“Oh, God,” Adam said with a laugh, shaking his head. “God, it’s been years since I’ve thought about Kavinsky.”

“I know,” Gansey agreed, “when Darren pulled up in it, I genuinely expected him to get out of it.”

Gansey looked at Ronan for his reaction and his smile faltered slightly. “Shit,” he said in a low voice, “sorry, Ronan, I wasn’t thinking.”

“What?” Ronan asked, irritated. “What are you apologising to me for?” He looked at Adam who was staring back at him and he knew they were both thinking about the same conversation they’d had over a year ago. Adam had asked what Ronan’s deal had been with Kavinsky. As always, Ronan got defensive and it quickly escalated into one of the worst arguments they’d ever had.

“Well, he was your friend,” Gansey said, cutting through Ronan’s thoughts in a way that insinuated it was what he felt he had to say, rather than what he wanted to say.

Ronan stared at him long enough to make him sweat a little before saying bluntly, “He wasn’t my friend.”

“Okay, fine,” Gansey said quickly, “that’s fine. I just didn’t want to- hey, it doesn’t matter, let’s talk about something else.”

He and Adam jumped straight into conversation again with ease, but Ronan’s thoughts were left behind, dragging their heels.

Part of him wanted to confide in them, while the other part screamed at him not to and he was much more familiar with fear and shame than sharing his feelings. He finished his beer quickly and went to the bar to get another round.

When the food came, he could barely stomach it. He’d been starving in the car all the way here, but now he didn’t feel like eating anything and Gansey kept giving him this look and he could feel his irritation growing with each passing second. He didn’t know if he could stand a basketball game afterwards. He didn’t even like basketball.

When they were done, Gansey paid for Ronan, and Adam paid for himself and they walked back to Gansey’s place to pick up his car. The pig, Gansey’s orange Camaro, was usually a comforting sight, but tonight all Ronan could think about was the reality of it. It was a dream object after all. He’d smashed the original car to pieces racing it and afterwards, he’d let Kavinsky take him to the Fairground where he’d given him pills to help him dream and taught him to be a thief from the backseat of his Mitsubishi.

The Camaro that stood before them today, the one that Adam and Gansey were climbing into before Ronan’s eyes, was a witness to what had happened that weekend. It knew that Ronan hadn’t been half as fucked up as he pretended to be.

He got in the passenger seat without saying a word and he tried to ignore the way Adam leaned between the seats, his knuckles brushing against his arm every now and then. Despite everything going on in Ronan’s head, he still wanted Adam badly. He knew that however casual the hand bumping against his arm seemed, Adam never did anything if it wasn’t deliberate. Ronan shifted in his seat so that he couldn’t reach him and stayed like that until they reached the indoor stadium just off campus.

The place was packed and they had to stop at least twelve times on the way in for Gansey to say hello to every single person he knew, and he knew everyone.

Once they found their seats, Ronan decided to go and get another drink and before he could disappear back into the stream of people slowly filling the place up, Adam offered to come with him. They fought their way against the tide of people to get back downstairs and Ronan’s stomach sunk when he saw the size of the queue.

“Fuck,” he muttered as they came to a halt at the back of the line.

“Huh?” Adam said, only half paying attention as he peered around over people’s heads.

“I said fuck,” Ronan repeated, louder so Adam couldn’t miss it and he turned to look at him.

“What’s your problem, Ronan?” He asked, frowning as he searched his face. “What did I do?”

“Do we have to do this now?” Ronan said in a low voice but he couldn’t meet Adam’s eye.

“Yeah, we do actually because if we don’t do it now, you’ll disappear again and go back to avoiding me,” Adam replied.

“What do you want me to say?” Ronan asked and they moved as the queue shuffled forwards.

“I just want an explanation. If you don’t wanna be with me, that’s fine. But tell me why.”

He had to look at him then to make sure he was being serious. He couldn’t imagine any universe out there where he didn’t want to be with Adam Parrish and yet here they were in this one where Adam was questioning it.

He knew he was being unfair and he knew he was sending mixed messages, but he tried to focus on why.

“It’s because I care about you,” he said, though it didn’t cover his reasoning by half.

Adam raised his eyebrows. “Disappearing and not returning my calls or my texts doesn’t sound like you care to me.”

“You don’t get it,” Ronan said, shaking his head, “there’s different pieces of your life. There’s your college life and there’s your Henrietta life and your college life is just more important than-”

“I can’t believe you’re using that against me,” Adam interrupted and he sounded genuinely hurt, “you of all people.”

“No,” Ronan said quickly, “that’s not what I meant. It’s not- listen, I’m not explaining myself properly and it’s so fucking loud in here-”

Adam grabbed his arm then, cutting him off and led him through the crowd and back outside the way they’d come in. He let him go once they were out of earshot of the people smoking by the door.

“Explain yourself, then,” he demanded.

The wind had picked up now that night had fallen and Ronan wished he hadn’t left his jacket in the car as he stood on the verge of shivering, but the heat of Adam’s stare was just enough to keep him from it.

“I want you to be able to focus on school because I know how much all this means to you,“ he said simply and Adam didn’t speak so he carried on, “I’m too selfish for you. I wanted too much of your time so I decided that it would be better if I just took away the option.”

Adam was frowning again. “So what you’re saying is, you broke up with me for me?”

Ronan shrugged. “I guess kind of.”

Adam’s chin dropped to his chest and it took a moment for Ronan to realise he was laughing. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,”

“I’m glad someone finds it funny,” Ronan replied sarcastically.

“What, you don’t think it sounds stupid now you’ve said it out loud?” Adam asked.

“No, I don’t.”

Adam stopped smiling then. “Well I don’t think you have any right to make decisions like that for me,” he said.

“We argue a lot too,” Ronan added as if he hadn’t spoken.

“We argue about stupid things,” Adam said and his face softened again, “like me telling you to do your homework at Aglionby or like you breaking up with me because you think I need to concentrate more on mine.”

Ronan could feel himself caving fast and Adam took a step closer.

“I want to be with you,” he said, “Yeah, college is important, but it’s not everything and I like you.” He was smirking and it was one of the best things Ronan had ever seen but when he got close enough and leaned in to kiss him, Ronan stepped back.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

Adam’s face fell. “What is it?”

“I’m just- I don’t think I’m in the right place to do this… at the moment.” He wanted to take it back as soon as it left his tongue.

“Why?” Adam asked and Ronan wondered how to say I see dead people without sounding like he’d lost his mind.

“I’ve been having nightmares again,” he said finally, it wasn’t a lie, “and my insomnia has just been, you know, it’s making me crazy.”

“You don’t need to shut me out when it gets like this,” Adam said, but he took a step back and Ronan was grateful. “I get it though.”

“Thanks,” Ronan said weakly.

Adam took a deep, audible breath. “Shall we go back in, then? Gansey’s probably worrying about us and the game’ll he starting any minute.”

“Yeah,” Ronan agreed, “yeah, you go ahead. I just need five minutes.”

Adam looked at him seriously. “Don’t leave.”

“I won’t,” Ronan assured him and he walked over to a low wall nearby. “I’m just gonna sit here.”

After Adam went back inside, Ronan’s mind buzzed and jolted with a thousand thoughts and feelings that all concluded in his chest, making it ache and he sat down heavily on the cold brick of the wall.

The last smoker went back inside and he watched them disappear and heard the door slam shut behind them. There should have been quiet then, but there was suddenly another sound that made every hair on Ronan’s body stand on end as a prickle of unease crawled up his spine. Someone was approaching down the grass bank behind him and he got to his feet and spun around, already knowing what he’d find.

“You and Parrish are really giving me a hard-on,” Kavinsky said. He sat down where Ronan had just been sitting and he smirked up at him. He still looked satisfyingly awful.

“What are you doing here?” Ronan asked, sounding more confident than he felt.

“Same as you,” Kavinsky said and be motioned towards the stadium, “oh wait, what are you doing here again? I mean, correct me if I’m wrong, but it looks to me like Parrish was trying to get in your panties and you shot him down because you’re too busy having wet dreams about me.”

“What the hell do you want?” Ronan demanded, ignoring him. “You tell me you want revenge on the whole world, then you show up here like my own personal poltergeist?”

“I just missed you, I guess,” Kavinsky said and his smile was sharp. There was something so unnervingly off about him that Ronan couldn’t put his finger on. “You told anyone about me?” He added.

“No,” Ronan said bluntly.

“You gonna go inside and watch the game then, or what?”

“Yeah.”

Kavinsky stared at him as he stood there unmoving. “Well?”

But Ronan’s legs wouldn’t allow him to walk away, not yet anyway. He felt glued to the spot as the pressure built up inside him. It was the guilt that had been eating him alive recently, alongside the fear.

“You know, if you need help,” he said, “I can try and find some for you.”

Kavinsky stared at him coldly, then his smirk reappeared. “You want to help me?”

Ronan exhaled sharply through his nose. “You’re obviously not supposed to be here. You need to find rest.”

“Find rest? What the fuck, man?” Kavinsky demanded, but it was clear he was finding it amusing. “You think I deserve the all clear? I think you’re forgetting that I almost got your little brother blown up.”

Ronan’s stomach twisted. “Tell me why and how you got here and I’ll forgive you.”

Something flashed across Kavinsky’s face and then it was gone again. “I don’t need forgiveness.”

“I’m not stupid, you know,” Ronan said, “I haven’t just forgotten everything you said to me the night you died and I haven’t forgotten that weekend at the Fairground.”

Kavinsky definitely wasn’t smiling now. “You think I want your forgiveness because you’re some guy I wanted to fuck in high school?”

Ronan suppressed a flinch at the confession, even if it wasn’t all there. “We both know it was more than that, man,” he said, attempting to be delicate.

“You’re really not all that,” Kavinsky said and he got to his feet. “You don’t know anything about me, especially not now. You have no idea who I am and what I’m capable of.”

Ronan refused to be intimidated and held his ground. He could handle Kavinsky, he’d always been able to handle him. His thought processes and logic were often simple and single-minded.

“I’m not scared of you,” Ronan said, it was only partly true. “You’re just here to mess with me.”

A little smile crept over Kavinsky’s face. “And you’re secretly enjoying it. You miss me, Lynch, admit it.”

“I wish you were still alive sometimes,” Ronan said, shocked at his own honesty, “not for me though, for you, because I know things could’ve been different. No ones supposed to die at seventeen.”

“Why didn’t you save me, then?” Kavinsky asked and Ronan frowned and found his eyes on Kavinsky’s hands.

“You couldn’t be saved, because you wouldn’t let anyone in,” Ronan replied with a shrug, “you wanted me, but you didn’t want me close enough that I started to care. There was nothing I could have done.”

“Ronan!” Someone called from far off in the distance. Ronan blinked and turned to see Gansey walking over to him. He turned back to Kavinsky in panic, but Kavinsky was gone.

“What are you doing out here?” Gansey asked, a little out of breath as he reached him.

Ronan stared towards the wall and the grass bank that was covered in shadow feeling oddly shaken and disorientated. “Nothing,” he said, “I just… I think I’m gonna head home. I don’t really like basketball.”

“What’s wrong?” Gansey asked and he glanced warily over at the wall. “You feeling okay?”

“Yeah, I’m just-” he turned back to face him, “the ley lines, are they powerful enough to bring someone back from the dead?“

Ronan realised his mistake as soon as it left his mouth and Gansey cleared his throat and smiled, “obviously.”

“Shit, yeah,” Ronan said, “but I mean… say someone has been dead a long time, can you bring them back?”

“I can’t tell if you’re joking right now,” Gansey said, half amused, “you know I dedicated half my life to waking someone from the dead, right? But I guess it didn’t work exactly as planned, so maybe not, no. Why?”

“I’ve seen someone,” Ronan said.

“Someone who’s dead?” Gansey asked seriously and Ronan nodded.

“Who?”

“You’re gonna think I’ve lost it,” Ronan said and he tried to laugh.

“I won’t,” Gansey assured him.

“It happened first when I left your place last week and then again tonight, just now,” Ronan explained.

“Who was it?” Gansey asked. He sounded worried.

“Kavinsky,” Ronan said finally.

Gansey nodded his head as if that was completely normal but Ronan didn’t appreciate it. “Did you just see him or did you speak to him?”

“I spoke to him, both times,” Ronan answered.

“And what did he say?” Gansey probed.

Ronan shook his head. It felt too much like Gansey was trying to talk him down from some kind of manic episode, like he was trying to keep him talking about what had happened so he could better understand it.

“I don’t need you to believe me,” he snapped.

“I never said I didn’t,” Gansey replied evenly. “Just come and watch the game, it’ll distract you.”

“I’ve just told you I’ve stood here and spoken to Kavinsky who’s been dead for three years, and you want me to sit and watch basketball?” Ronan asked, incredulous.

“I just think it might help,” Gansey said which was enough to confirm that he didn’t believe him at all.

Ronan turned and walked away. Gansey called after him but he kept walking, confident in the fact that he wouldn’t follow him and ditch Adam.

He walked back to the campus and found his car, pulling his jacket on and turning up the heat when he got inside. He felt frozen to the core. He flexed his fingers on the steering wheel but he didn’t think he could face the Barns alone. He wasn’t usually scared of the dark, but he felt so uneasy and every cell in his body was on edge. He checked the backseat in the rearview mirror, then he looked at himself. He needed to shave and his eyes were rimmed in red and purple but he figured that that’s what you got for not looking in the mirror for a week.

He cut the engine again and got out, making his way back to Gansey’s place. He didn’t really want to be alone so he sat on the front step and waited for Gansey and Adam to come back. He didn’t have to wait long.

Gansey took them inside and Ronan sat at the breakfast bar and stared at his hands while they spoke in a low voices in the next room. He was reminded of a feeling he had after his father died when he was fifteen. Everybody wanted to talk about him, but not to him.

“Do you wanna stay here tonight?” Gansey asked and Ronan looked up to find him standing across from him. He hadn’t realised he was there. “Or Adam’s going back to his, you can go with him if you want?”

“Yeah, I’ll go with Parrish,” Ronan said and Gansey looked hurt for a split second, before it was covered by an encouraging smile.

“That okay?” Gansey asked over Ronan’s shoulder and he turned to find Adam in the doorway across the room.

“Yeah, course it is,” Adam answered.

“I don’t need babysitting,” Ronan said as he got to his feet, “I just don’t fancy going home tonight.” He didn’t see Adam and Gansey share a look as he left the room.

Adam had parked a few blocks away and they walked in awkward silence. Ronan couldn’t think of anything to say. He didn’t know how much Gansey had told him.

Adam’s little car was the same car Helen had given him when they were at Aglionby. Ronan used to tell him how embarrassed he was to be seen in it, but he didn’t care now and got in the passenger seat without a word. During the drive Adam asked Ronan if he was okay and Ronan apologised for ruining their evening but Adam assured him that he hadn’t. Ronan couldn’t stand liars.

To his relief, the little house that Adam shared was strangely comforting and no one was around so Ronan was able to get upstairs without having to talk to anyone. He hesitated in the hallway, unsure whether he should enter Adam’s room, but then Adam was behind him on the stairs and it seemed like enough of an invitation.

The room smelt distinctly of aftershave and Adam quickly crossed to the window to let some air in and then he cleared some books and a laptop off the bed.

“You can have my bed, I don’t mind, I usually fall asleep in the chair anyway,” Adam said, “it’s actually comfier than it looks.” He smiled and Ronan noticed that his cheeks were red.

“What are you on about?” Ronan asked, “your bed’s always been big enough for two.”

Adam stared at him. “You want me to- you wanna share the bed?”

Ronan raised his eyebrows as though Adam had been stupid to think otherwise. “Yeah, I do.”

Adam nodded and slipped his jacket off, hanging it on the back of the door and then he took three steps, closing the gap between himself and Ronan and he kissed him.

Ronan pulled away almost instantly, holding onto his arms to keep him still. He considered pushing him away, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

“Fuck it,” he said and then he kissed him again and when he let go of Adam’s arms to instead touch the back of his neck and his hair, Adam’s hands moved and tugged his jacket from his shoulders. Ronan couldn’t get enough of his mouth and his touch and his warmth and he didn’t resist as Adam pushed him down onto the bed.

“Gansey told me,” Adam said between heavy kisses, his hands skating up and down Ronan’s body. “He told me what you saw.”

Ronan wrapped his arms around him, pulling him down on top of him and let his hands wander across the curve of his back and over his ass.

“Kavinsky,” Adam said, “he can’t have you.” He kissed his cheek, then his jaw, then his ear as he said, “he couldn’t back then and he sure as hell can’t now.”

“I don’t want him,” Ronan said breathlessly, turning his head to kiss Adam’s hair, “I never wanted him. But now he’s back and I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

Adam stopped kissing him then, raising himself up slightly so he could look him in the eye. “I knew something was wrong. There’s this pulse under the ground that seems to get faster and faster when bad things are happening and It’s pounding.”

“So you don’t think I’m just losing my mind?” Ronan asked.

Adam smiled down at him. “No, it’s bigger than that.”

“What do we do?” Ronan asked Adam’s lips, wishing he was kissing them rather than talking to them.

“I don’t know,” Adam said and he kissed Ronan’s bottom lip briefly, “but I know that we don’t have to do anything right now except this.”

Ronan grabbed the front of his shirt then and yanked him downwards, reaching up at the same time to meet his lips.

“I’ve missed you,” he admitted and he could feel Adam’s smile. He hadn’t felt this whole in months and for the first night in a week, he let Adam’s heat melt Kavinsky from his mind completely.