#When discussing payment they just gave me them for free which was SO SWEET!!!

[maddymoreau]

So the frames to my glasses broke.

Luckily, my optometrist and eye care place are SUPER cool. They have an entire section in their building dedicated just to repairing glasses. However, if your glasses are too damaged they also have a box full of discontinued frames available.

They gave me a pair and popped my current lenses into them. Since there wasn't any available appointments until August and-

THEY’RE MR. HOUSE'S COLORS!!!!

[anonquack]

| His Merch |

Alex Quackity x Reader, Oneshot!

Word Count: 4256

Warnings: None, just some curse words. Fluff :]

Summary: Being such good friends with Quackity leads to the inevitable; catching feelings. In fear of ruining your friendship with him, you kept quiet about your feelings. Although usually good at that, after a merch drop and a slip-up on stream, you prepare yourself for the worst. Queue the incoming call from Quackity himself.

Today had been a productive day, in your opinion. You'd woken up earlier than usual, ate breakfast, cleaned around your apartment, and managed to get started on editing a video you'd recently filmed.

That's why you considered yourself very deserving of sitting down and enjoying your friend's stream as you ate some snacks.

Quackity had a fun stream planned, and had hyped up a 'big announcement' on Twitter, and the whole timeline was already speculating what it could be as they awaited for Quackity to start stream.

Being his friend had some perks though, contrary to popular belief. He'd discussed with you what the big announcement was as you sat on call with him a few nights prior to the big day. It was merch, and according to your past experience with Planet Duck products, it was sure to be soft and super comfy. You were very much looking forward to getting your hands on some of his new merch.

He'd brought up sending some to you, one of the previously mentioned perks of being his friend, but you politely declined. Much to his surprise. He'd asked why and you'd simply stated that "It was fine," and perhaps it came off as a bit rude. A 'no thanks' to his merch that you hadn't even seen.

But you had plans of your own, you wanted to acquire said merch on your own, and support him financially in the process. He didn't have to know that though, so with a small 'Oh' from him as his response, you swiftly changed topic of conversation.

Now here you sat, watching the stream as Quackity explained what he'd be doing with his friend John Smith. Riding go-karts around what looked like a storage unit. You couldn't help but worry as you watched them zoom around, occasionally getting close to crashing, and eventually doing just that.

The stream itself was rather fun to watch, but you kept your debit card beside you. This was in case he decided to drop the merch announcement out of nowhere. And that was exactly what he did. Another perk of being his friend was you grew a 6th sense for these type of things. Always had a feeling for what was about to happen when it came to Quackity.

You watched as the chat freaked out, watched as the notification from Planet Duck went out, notifying everybody that the merch had been released. You quickly typed into your computer, and the internet seemed to be taking its time to redirect you to Quackity's merch site.

After some time, it finally loaded and you began to look at all the options. The merch was wonderful, Quackity had been hyping it up to you (you'd asked for no reveals, wanting to wait like everyone else) and he had been absolutely right.

Most of the designs were new, except for the iconic Planet Duck logo, and were all very cute. You had Quackity's stream playing in the background as you maneuvered your way around the site, finally deciding on which merch you'd be buying.

As you went to purchase, a red sign alerted you that there was no shipping to your location. To which you quickly raised an eyebrow, panic starting to rush through you. Maybe you should've accepted his offer.

After refreshing multiple times and watching the Twitter timeline freak out as well over the inability to ship to several locations, it finally seemed to work, and the payment finally went through. A big "Thank you for your purchase" appearing onto the screen.

You let out a sigh of relief, clicking back onto the tab where the stream was, a small smile on your face. You'd actually managed to get it on your own. It was nerve-racking, when it seemed like you wouldn't be able to get the shipping to work, when it seemed like it'd sell out before you had the chance to buy some.

Now you finally understood what it felt like, the stress of getting your hands on merch before it sold out. It'd been an exhilerating experience.

You relaxed into your seat as Quackity's laugh filled the room. He was recreating bits from Fast and Furious, and zooming all over the place. You watched with a fond smile as he drove around, throwing random Spanish profanities at John Smith here and there.

The funky heart glasses he had on did nothing to ease the warmth that was spreading through your chest at the sight of him. You were suffering due to your confusing feelings towards your close friend, but nobody knew, or at least that is what you told yourself.

You tried to focus on something else, something that wasn't solely him. The go-karts were going pretty fast, and you remembered the scene they were recreating from the movie. Whichever random thought came to mind, you'd focus on it instead, too scared to let your thoughts wander elsewhere.

When it came to and end, you were conflicted. You were glad your heart would be able to catch a break, but you also missed him almost immediately. Sickening, really.

You took some time to reflect on what you'd done so far. Cleaned, ate your meals, worked on some editing, got some Quackity merch, and enjoyed a fun stream. It was rather productive, to say the least.

But there was still some time left in the day, and you figured you'd put the energy coursing through your body to use.

Taking a seat at your desk, you turned your monitor on before opening the twitch app. An alt stream would be perfect right now. After going live and sending out a tweet letting your followers know you were live, you patiently waited for the viewers to start coming in.

Considering this was an alt stream, you figured you'd play some random game and just chat for a bit before heading to bed. As the viewers came in, you gave your greetings before opening a tab for roblox, getting on a random server to play an obby game as you talked to chat.

There was a content smile on your face as you asked chat how their day had been, how they were feeling, your little character jumping around and passing through the beginner levels on the obby game.

"I'm actually in a really good mood, chat. My day has been going so well." You began, glancing at chat here and there, smile growing at the memory of the adventures acquiring Quackity merch.

After the chat was flooded with questions asking about what had happened, you indulged. "I was watching Quackity's stream earlier today, and it was so much fun!" The smile grew before softening as you focused on the obby. "I was also able to get some of his new merch."

The chat erupted into bits of 'friends supporting friends' to 'y/n in quackity merch???' and people yelling that they had been or weren't able to get merch.

Seeing the chat made you laugh, nodding your head a bit. "No because I was so nervous I wouldn't be able to get some-" you admitted, attention now focused solely on telling the viewers about your own experience.

"I was trying to purchase, and there was a line, and then it said it wouldn't ship to my location?? I was so worried I wouldn't be able to get some. But it finally worked. I'm excited for it to get here." You finished your small rant, a content smile on your lips.

Chat consisted of people agreeing with the technical difficulties occurring at the time of the merch drop, others saying they were too broke to buy anything. It felt nice, to see something from their perspective and also have shared an experience like this.

"Big Q actually offered to send me some, but I told him no because I wanted to get it myself.. Wanted to get it fair and square." You said as you refocused on the obby in front of you, fond smile on your face as you thought about how nice he was. He was willing to send all of his friends some of his merch, free of cost.

"Also wanted to give him my support by actually purchasing it, you know?" You added, resting your chin on the palm of your hand as it leaned against your desk. You took this time to read chat, which was exploding with what you thought was a combination of Quackity's username with yours, and 'bffs ur honor!!'.

You smiled at that, hands finally moving your character around. "Really, he has been such an amazing friend, extremely welcoming, always fun to be around. And just.. life is never dull when he's around. He's always been there for me when I needed it and well‐" A pause. "I'm glad I was able to support him in some way." You hummed softly as you finished up yet another small rant about Quackity.

At the realization that you'd been talking about him for far too long, and that he was not meant to be the focus of your alt stream, you cleared your throat and began focusing on the obby game once again.

You shifted the topic of conversation to the video you'd also been editing today, and that quickly took everyone's attention away from how affectionately and fondly you'd been speaking of your dear friend. Everyone was now excited about the new video.

Seeing how easily the chat's focus changed made you ease up a bit, and you were able to enjoy the rest of your stream playing random roblox games and discussing some stuff with chat. It lasted for a bit longer before you finally decided to end stream.

Some goodbyes and after stream officially ended, you found yourself on Twitter. Everything seemed pretty peaceful on the timeline, up until the trending page came up.

Your name was trending, along with 'QUACKITY IN CHAT' and the infamous combination of usernames. A monstrosity, really.

You heard yourself audibly gulp as you clicked on the trending topic 'quackity in chat'. Much to your dismay it was true. There was screenshots that showed Quackity was watching your stream. That meant that he'd heard you talking about him in that sickening tone. That tone that was unnecessarily sweet and fond.

You didn't know who was freaking out more, the so-called shippers, the timeline, or yourself. You gently bit at the inside of your cheek, scrolling and reading all the tweets of people trying to guess how Quackity must've felt while hearing all that. Others raising an eyebrow at how long you'd gone on about Quackity and how 'perfect' he was.

You'd fucked up, that was for sure, and it wasn't even intentional or fan service of any kind. It was an alt stream, it wasn't planned in any way, shape, or form. He'd been brought up, and you'd accidentally spilled all fond thoughts you held of him.

Your cursor hovered over a specific tweet that read, 'want someone to talk about me the way y/n talks about big q'. It was sweet, and perhaps made you smile just a little bit.

As you read it over in your head, a notification popped up on your screen, the discord notification ringing in your ears as you read who the message was from. Quackity.

You messed around with your mouse for a bit before finally closing the Twitter tab, and instead opting to open the unread message.

Quackity

hey (:

You stared at it for a bit, blinking in disbelief at how normal the message came across. Perhaps he'd tuned in during the last half of the stream. Perhaps he hadn't been able to watch while you rambled about him, and perhaps he hadn't been on Twitter either. One could hope.

y/n hi (:

It showed that he was typing almost immediately after, and you tried your best to calm your nerves.

Quackity call?

You felt yourself tense at the message. Maybe he wanted to let you down kindly. 'Hey! Saw your stream, and I just wanted to ask if you could chill the fuck out. That was kind of creepy. Maybe never speak of me ever again. Do not perceive me any longer, thanks!'

Something along those lines for sure. That's what probably awaited you if you said yes to this. But what exactly were you supposed to do instead?

y/n ofc

It only took a few seconds for the call to come through. Stalling wouldn't help, so you answered by the third ring.

He greeted you, and everything seemed normal. The calls were normal between you two, but you were just on edge due to twitter trending and the stream that took place less than an hour ago.

"How are you feeling, Quackity?" You asked with a small smile, today was a big day for him, and you were sure he'd enjoy talking about how fast the merch sold.

"I'm doing great. Really happy that the fans liked the designs and just.. we sold a lot. I'm happy." He restated the last bit, the smile was obvious in his voice. You didn't have to be seeing it to know. Another perk of being so close to him. You had a clear visual image of what he probably looked like right now. Cute smile plastered onto his equally cute face.

"I'm really happy for you, Big Q. You deserve all the success that is coming your way and more." You hummed softly. Everything you were saying, you meant wholeheartedly. There was silence for a bit before he finally spoke again.

"I watched your stream."

Fuck. There it was. You should've expected it but it still hit like a ton of bricks. You felt your mouth turn dry, could barely manage to get out the word, "Yeah?"

"Mhm." Straight to the point. There was a bit of silence, you were unsure of what to say. Why had he brought it up? It was bound to happen, but what was the reason behind bringing it up? To tease you, let you know he wasn't interested, or because roblox obbies are just so much fun?

"You didn't have to buy it, you know?" He finally said, breaking the silence.

"I wanted to." You reassured, "the merch is really pretty. Worth every penny."

"I could've sent you whichever you wanted." He stated bluntly. As if it was weird of you to have gone and bought it on your own.

"Thank you, but I wanted to buy it myself. Let me? Please?" Let me show my support this way, is what you meant to say. It came out softer than intended, and you could feel your heart beating against your ribs. You really needed to watch your tone around him.

"Of course." He responded, just as softly. He'd drive you crazy one of these days. They'd have to lock you up, and you'd never see the light of day again.

"Did you have fun riding the go-karts?" You asked, a small smile on your lips as you wandered back onto the Twitter tab, a clip of his stream now on display on the timeline.

He let out a small laugh, "I did. Did you enjoy watching it?" You nodded before responding, "Of course. Was concerning watching you crash into walls though."

He hummed softly in response, possibly contemplating what to say with how long he took before he spoke again.

"Did you really mean all the things you said on stream?"

Somehow, even with your own attempts to change topic, the focus was back on your stream and the things that had been said. You wouldn't be able to dig yourself out of the hole you'd dug.

It was entirely your fault, for even allowing yourself to consider him as anything but a great friend. It was your fault for taking the late night calls, the sweet tones, and messages the wrong way. Your interpretations were all wrong and now you'd have to sit here and apologize for practically outing yourself on stream. For letting the whole world know that you had romantic feelings for a good friend of yours. You'd probably made him so uncomfortable.

You felt yourself cringe slightly at his words, already gone quiet for far too long. You had to speak up, even if it lead to a good friendship ending a few minutes from now.

"Of course I did. You're great, Alex." The use of his name was meant to assure him you meant it wholeheartedly. It made the moment feel more intimate, too. Much to your own dismay, yet again. You couldn't help it.

The possibility that your friendship with him could come to an end real soon made you act on your feelings. It left you unhinged. If it was all going to end here, maybe you'd allow yourself to act on impulse. End it with a bang.

"Thank you, really. I know I probably wasn't meant to hear all that, but it was really nice. Made me feel nice as well. And just, seeing that you didn't accept the merch from me because you wanted to support me directly.. thank you."

His voice was soft, felt like warm honey to your taste buds. You could almost hear your heart melting inside your chest, could feel it dripping down and touching your diaphragm, oozing into every single crevice in your body. You'd never understand how he had such effects on you. How he was able to make you so fond of him.

"I meant every single word. You deserve that and so much more." You reassured yet again, a small smile on your lips. You heard him let out a small chuckle, which made you laugh as well.

Moments later, he had turned his camera on, wanting to show you all the merch. You'd asked for him to put it on, since you were a 'visual learner' and had to see it on him in order to fully understand what it looked like. He had playfully rolled his eyes, but hadn't really argued against it.

So there you were, watching as he changed from hoodie to hoodie, moving out of frame to change into the shirts. You could feel your heart thumping harshly against your rib cage at the sight of him. Some looked bigger on him, some looked just right. They all looked wonderful, and super comfy. Perhaps that was simply because they were on him, and he looked so comfy.

He looked like he could give the best hugs.

"You really think so?" His voice came out a bit sheepish, and the light pink that dusted his cheeks was becoming more and more evident. Huh?

"What?" You said, a dumb look on your face as you tried connecting the dots.

"That I could give the best hugs." He stated slowly, as if he was testing how it sounded before adding, "Do you really think that?"

Had you really said that out loud? Fuck. It took acting on impulse to a whole other level. This wasn't something you two usually did, but I guess it was okay since everything might be ending soon. Ballsy moves.

"Yeah. You make the merch look so cozy." Your throat felt dry, eyes glued to his face, wanting to catch every single second of his reaction. Wanting to see each movement of his facial muscles, to find out what it could possibly entail. "Makes me wonder what your hugs feel like." You admitted.

Your eyes scanned the entirety of his face, perking up slightly at the sight of his face flushing, leaving him with the softest tint of pink to spread across his cheeks, almost matching his pretty lips. What the hell did that even mean?

"Maybe you won't have to wonder for too long. With guidelines being lifted and all." The line. Blurred at that very moment, for sure. His eyes were glued to you as well, which only made you hesitate every single movement you could think of doing at that moment.

"And in the meantime? What am I supposed to do?" Risky. Crossing lines, jumping over hurdles. This all had to be against friend rules or something. You could feel your sanity decreasing each second this call went on. But he wasn't stopping any of this either.

"I could send you a hoodie." The sentence brought you out of your Quackity-induced haze, making you quickly shake your head. What? Before you could protest or ask what the hell that was supposed to mean, he explained.

"My hoodie. Y'know. Mine. One I wear. You can give it back when we meet up, perhaps."

Your mouth went dry again, shocked at the domestic feeling it gave. He was suggesting he send one of his hoodies. It would smell like him. It was the closest thing to giving him an actual hug. It would be paradise.

"You'd really do that?" You asked, still in disbelief, but he quickly nodded his head. "Oh." You said softly, before a smile appeared on your face. "I would like that, then."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"I'll send it then." He hummed, smile spreading on his lips as well. Everything going on was making you feel dizzy. It felt so surreal.

You'd mentally prepared yourself for the worst, but instead were met with a flirtatious Quackity. He'd said sweet things to you before, but you never allowed yourself to take it seriously, not wanting to get your hopes up. And it never went to this extent.

It seemed he realized what just went down, a loud laugh escaping his lips. "Holy shit. You're gonna have one of my hoodies soon."

"I am." You chimed in, smile on your lips as well.

"And you'll wear it around." He added.

"I will."

"You'll look good, as always."

You could feel the heat rush to your face. What was going on? Was this real, or just a very cruel dream? Alex Quackity was fucking flirting with you.

"Are you flirting with me?" Bewildered tone, raised eyebrows. Your brain couldn't even begin to progress what was being said.

"What the fuck does it look like I've been doing?"

"Have you really?" Warmth spread across your chest at how blunt he was being. The line was gone. It'd been erased, never to be seen again. There was no shame in him. Admitting he was flirting with his whole chest.

"I have. Why are you so surprised though? I've subtly flirted with you before.. and I mean, were you not confessing your undying love to me on stream?" He raised a brow, feigned confusion on his face. He was teasing. You let out a groan, covering your face with your hands as he let out a laugh.

Surreal. He confessed to having flirted with you in the past. So you weren't delusional, nice to know. "Are you done?" You asked, face still covered by your hand in shame.

"I saw a tweet that was saying they felt like third wheels since I was in chat, and you were just going on about everything you liked about me." You kept your face covered. He was not stopping. Now he was the unhinged one.

He was visibly scrolling through the timeline at this point. "Oh, and one saying they want what we have. What do we have?"

You finally uncovered your face. "I don't know. Whatever the fuck this is, I guess?"

"Well, what is this?"

"Mm... whatever you want it to be." You finally answered, and there was a surprised look plastered on his face at that.

"Whatever I want?"

"Yeah." You paused. Would he regret this after he got out of this haze? What if it had just been flirting for fun? But he wouldn't play with your feelings like this, would he?

Alex Quackity was perfect though, and perhaps he had a sixth sense about when stuff was wrong with you, because he caught on to your hesitation.

"Hey." He called out softly. The teasing, flirtatious tone was gone, now replaced by the softer tone reserved for late night calls, or when everybody else in the vc had left and it was just you two.

You look at where his face was on your monitor, relaxing a bit simply by his tone and the soft gaze he held on you.

"I know everything sort of progressed pretty fast tonight.. but your stream really helped me realize a few things. I do like you, y/n. Not fucking around or anything." He said it in a firm tone, one that told you he wasn't messing around, but still felt oh so intimate.

Everything he was saying was exactly what you wanted and needed to hear. Reassurance that your feelings weren't unrequited. You couldn't believe your rambling on stream had lead you guys here.

"I like you, too. If that wasn't obvious already." You mumbled out, eyes averting before glancing to see his reaction. He had the biggest, cutest, grin on his face. Charming, and extremely contagious. You couldn't help but smile back.

Holy shit.

"Is this real?" You asked out loud, smile never leaving your face.

"It is. All thanks to your ranting on stream. How cool is that?"

You couldn't help but still feel rather embarrassed that he'd heard all of it, but it had brought you two here. All embarrassment was worth it. Especially if it meant it opened up a whole new world of possibilities for you two.

"Very cool." You mumbled, before a smile appeared on your lips. Today really couldn't have gone any better.

[volleyball-dontknowher]

Money Troubles

Kuroo x reader, Bokuto x reader

Words: 1,8k 

Warnings: none

Summary: Reader has money troubles and the boys are so sweet about it 

A/n: Y’all this hits so close to home like I grew up really poor for a long time and if that is where you are right now, please know that things do get better and it is all going to be okay :) 

Kuroo

You and Kuroo had been friends forever and just recently made the jump from best friends to lovers and it honestly didn’t change much, except how often the two of you went out. Kuroo was always taking you out places and spoiling you rotten but you knew that you couldn’t do the same. There was no way that you could afford half of the things that he can but you have no idea how to tell him that. Every time he spends money on you you feel super guilty and bad because you can’t spend the same amount back on him and you had got him a nice gift for Christmas but that is just because you saved every last dollar to spoil him as best you could. He was your best friend and you didn't want him to have to worry about any of this but you also didn’t want him to think that you were cheap or taking advantage of him.

   The issue dwelled in your mind for weeks, you were unsure of what to say or do because you both had never gone out this often before. Tonight was your turn to choose what your date would be and you had made the easy decision, the only decision.

“So what will it be, princess?” Kuroo smirked at you from across the kitchen as he made himself a glass of water.

“Can we stay in and watch the show, Bridgerton, I’ve heard the most amazing things about it,” you smile at him trying to be convincing.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go out?” He questions as he refills his glass. It was almost a week before your next payday and you had $6 left so you really couldn’t afford to go out.

“I think staying home sounds like fun,” you lie, it’s been a stressful week and you knew he could see right through you so you avoided his curious gaze.

“Y/n, love, what is it?” He questions, unsure of your reasoning, “it was your pick and if that’s what you want to do we can go to the store and get snacks and make it a hell of a date night” he reasons with himself.

“No Kuroo that’s really okay,” you barely whisper.

“Hey, what is it?” He now is right by your side giving you the biggest puppy dog eyes.

“It’s nothing Tetsuro,” you shy away.

“If it was nothing you’d be looking at me and told me that you wanted to go try that new Indian restaurant down the street, please y/n,” he says in a calm, loving way.

“You’re right, I would like to try it, but I can’t afford it Kuroo.”

“Why would you think that you’re paying?” He asks, smiling at you.

“Because you always pay, and I always feel bad because I don’t ever pay, and it’s not fair,” you huff at him.

“Y/n Y/l/n I pay because I can pay and because I want to pay and because I know you would never treat yourself to a nice meal even if you did have the money, which by the way is not something you should be embarrassed of. I spent the first two years of our friendship absolutely broke at all times, I slept on Bo’s couch for god sake and you have to be really desperate to do that. Trust me when I tell you that it’s okay, it gets better and once it does then you can bet your ass that I’m still paying for our dates because I have been waiting years to date you and now that I am I am going to spoil the shit out of you, okay? Okay. So get your ass dress we’re getting indian, end of discussion.”

You had no idea what to say or do, he really just said to hell with it and left the room to get ready so you were stuck sitting there alone with your thoughts. ‘How the hell did he know?’ You panicked, worried that this was why he decided to ask you out and date you and that he was going to get sick of you and sick of paying and want to leave.

“I am ordering two meals with or without you so get your ass ready or I’m gonna eat them both” Kuroo mumbles as he brushes his teeth.

You get ready and go out to dinner with him and have an amazing time laughing and eating together. A couple weeks after Kuroo gives you a little wrapped box with your name on it. It was a key to his house with your initials engraved on it.

“Y’know if you ever want to come over, or even” he is blushing a deep red, “or even, I know it’s early, but I’ve known you forever and I can’t see us ever I don’t know, breaking up, so unless you do, I mean, it would be kinda cool if we lived together.”

You sat there in complete shock, did Kuroo just ask if you wanted to move in with him?! You gave him the biggest smile ever as you nodded at him completely speechless.

“But you have to bring your furniture, it’s wayyy nicer than mine and we had our first kiss on that couch so it has to come too.”

And little did you know not only did you move in now mean that you live with your best friend 24/7 but you also don’t grocery shop and your rent is way cheaper because he’s lived there forever. He never once judged or made you feel bad for not being able to pay for things and if he was ever strapped for cash as well you had the best stay in movie nights ever.

Bokuto

Bokuto was a smart guy, sometimes. He may have his dumb moments but he always knew how much he spent and kept a good and accurate budget so he got to live a pretty care free life (it also doesn’t help that he got a volleyball scholarship that paid for his college and you have $500 a month payments) , you on the other hand weren’t as fortunate. It seemed as though all of your money was gone before you even got your check, between food, rent, phone bill, loans, and everything else that came with being alive your little paychecks seemed to dwindle down to nothing. It was something you wanted to change, and luckily you only had a couple months left on your loans because you chose to aggressively pay them off but you wish you didn’t sometimes so you could have a little bit more to spend on life and on Bokuto, you’re adorably loving boyfriend.

It was a day like every other, the two of you out and about doing dumb things around town when you decided to go to Starbucks together. You were extra excited to get apeppermint mocha and Bo was practically vibrating with excitement-and that’s before you give him caffeine. You get up to the counter and order before inserting your card… ‘decline’ the screen reads. You have no idea what to do and your face blushes a bright red.

Without hesitation Bo steps in front of you, orders his drink and pays for your drinks before you can even process anything. He turns and smiles at you and gives you a little kiss and wraps his arms around your shoulders as you go to wait for your drink to be done.

“Bo, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize-“

“Shhh look she’s adding the whip to your drink,” he bounces excitedly hoping that means his drink is next.

You get your drinks and go sit in those giant brown chairs that are the best and most comfortable spot in the entire place and you once again try and thank him for paying for your drink and explain but he stops you again.

“Y/n, lovey, it happens to all of us, okay? Don’t worry about it, seriously. I know you overthink things like this and I don’t want or need you to. We all do it sometimes and it is okay, hell I did it last week at the store, it happens, I’ve got you now and always, so don’t stress yourself out about it. You have a lot to pay for and a lot going on so I don’t want you worrying about the small things when there are lots of bigger things that need your attention, like me. I need your attention  and so having you focus on other things is bad for me and my ego, okay?” He smiles at you after one of the most uncharacteristic moments from him ever.

You just stare at him completely in shock that he just said all of those things to you.

“Ummm helllo earth to y/n,” he repeats two or three times as he waves his hand in front of your face.

“Sorry bo.”

“Can I pleaseee have a sip of your drink? I asked like four times but you were in outer space thinking about the stars or something, but that’s okay, you’re back on earth now, please can I have a sip, it looks so good,” he smiles at you, knowing that you were worrying about it and doing the perfect job of pulling you out of whatever trance you were in.

You let him have a sip of your drink and you get a sip of his (which was even more delicious than anything you’d ever had there). Bokuto continued the conversation and pretty much held up the whole thing and made you laugh the whole time.

The following couple of weeks you noticed that Bo was super helpful and sweet about everything financial and when you finally paid off your student loans he threw you the biggest “college is too expensive” party and celebrated life with you so much. Even after things got better for you he still was happy to pay for a lot of things and even admitted to you that he has been super duper broke too and it is just what happens in life, it happens to all of us and if he finds out that you have been worrying about it than he is going to come and cuddle you to death because he can’t stand the idea of you getting upset over nothing. (Even though he does it all the time, you are different because he wants you to always be happy)

[thegoodomensdumpster]

An angel and a demon facing the greatest problem of their time: the crucial difference between Book!Omens and Miniseries!Omens

A follower who doesn’t have Tumblr sent me this AMAZING essay about the differences between the book and the series, and focuses especially on the context of the Cold War to go deep into establishing how the whole book works. It’s impressive. It’s clever. It’s enlightening and rather exhaustive. And very long, but I swear, you will not regret reading it. After this sentence, you’ll be reading OP’s work. So, I saw this post comparing the differences between book!A/C and miniseries!A/C and I just couldn’t repress myself any longer. Here it is, a short essay on how the most crucial difference between Book!Omens and Miniseries!Omens arises from the story adapting to the context in which the book was written and the miniseries has been filmed.

I’ll be using the Corgi Edition, reissued in 2019 whenever I reference the book.

  An angel and a demon facing the greatest problem of their time: the crucial difference between Book!Omens and Miniseries!Omens

As it has been said many times already, there is a substantial difference between Good Omens as a book and as a series, namely, the shift in the dynamics between Aziraphale and Crowley. While their relationship is pretty much established in the book from the very beginning, in the series it becomes the main narrative focus. Series!Omens deals primarily with Aziraphale’s and Crowley’s coming out of the closet, as it were, with them daring to be themselves and freely acknowledging the profound love they feel for one another. Meanwhile, the original novel did also deal with an element of self-freeing, but the context in which the book was written made for the focus of that struggle to be slightly different. In Book!Omens the pivotal difficulty is gaining freedom from a system, from a well-defined authority. In Series!Omens, the challenge is to get rid of our internal fears, of our own demons (no pun intended) and insecurities, and dare to reach out for love and tenderness. As I would argue, I ascribe this shift to a change of the worldwide context when each work was produced. In that sense, much has been said and analysed about Series!Omens already. So, I will devote most of this essay to exploring how Book!Omens works perfectly well as a metaphor of the historical time when it was produced, that is, the Cold War.

The book was written in 1990, one year after the falling of the Berlin Wall and just one year before the collapse of the URSS. More importantly, both Pratchett and Gaiman were old enough to have a direct, fully conscious and first-hand experience of what it was like to live during the Cold War. So much so, that Good Omens can be read pretty easily as a great metaphor of it. Just in case, let me sketch the main rough ideas of what the Cold War entailed: two sides with opposite believes, both so inhumanly powerful that if to face each other directly the entire universe would be blown out in a nuclear Armageddon. So, instead of going directly to war with one another, they had areas of influence and agents dedicated to gaining supporters for their sides while trying to neutralise the other side’s agents. Sounds familiar, right?

From Heaven with love, the name’s Crowley, A. J. Crowley

The most blatant evidence to support this reading of Good Omens can be found in nearly every scene where Aziraphale and Crowley meet in a public place to discuss their guidelines, their respective courses of action and what they are going to do about it as friends. At some point during those, a reference is been made to British, Russian or American spies and agents being around them, doing exactly the same our angel and demon are doing. The first time we see Aziraphale and Crowley interacting together in the book is on PP. 44-45, in St James’s Park. Before their dialogue starts, we are told about the ducks and how they have developed a Pavlovian reaction to certain types of humans, because the park is the place where agents from both sides (capitalist and communist) meet under the pretence of feeding them. Which coincidentally is exactly the same cover Aziraphale and Crowley use. As if that was not enough, Aziraphale runs out of bread mid-conversion, and the duck that was being fed

“[…] went off to pester the Bulgarian [communist] naval attaché and a furtive-looking man in a Cambridge tie [capitalist], […]” (P.44)

Thus it is stablished that the ducks see no difference between Aziraphale and Crowley, or any other secret agents meeting clandestinely.

Something similar occurs when they meet at the British Museum to discuss that Warlock is all too normal:

“They were in the cafeteria of the British Museum, another refuge for all weary foot soldiers of the Cold War. At the table to their left two ramrod-straight Americans in suits were surreptitiously handing over a briefcase full of deniable dollars to a small dark woman in sunglasses; at the table on their right the deputy head of MI7 and the local KGB section officer argued over who got to keep the receipt for the tea and buns.” (P. 68)

This is interesting for various reasons. Before the first interaction at St James’s Park we had already been told about the Arrangement and how it was basically a non-interference deal that made both Aziraphale’s and Crowley’s life easier and gave them more free time. But now they are openly working together to raise Warlock. Notice that in this paragraph the idea of the angel and the demon being two agents from each block is again reinforced by sheer spatial proximity. But even better, as if that was not enough, the agents are once more doing exactly the same that Aziraphale and Crowley are. Thus, the Americans are handing money over a soviet agent in dark glasses, probably as payment for non-interference, or better yet collaboration. Moreover, the British MI7 agent and the soviet KGB officer are arguing about who should get the bill. Aziraphale and Crowley are also sharing their third mentioned meal, albeit without arguing about the bill. However, we already know that they eat together frequently and that just like the agents, they take turns to pay. At the end of their interaction at St James’ Park, right before heading to the Ritz, they had their own “this time bill’s on me” moment of sorts, with the famous owed lunch from Paris 1793.

To finish this first point, I would like to mention the last meeting at St James’s Park, after the Armageddon’t:

“St James’s Park was comparatively quiet. The ducks, who were experts in realpolitik as seen from the bread end, put it down to a decrease in world tension. […] The park was deserted except for a member of MI9 trying to recruit someone who, to their later mutual embarrassment, would turn out to be also a member of MI9 […]” (P. 380)

Once more, a meeting of our favourite couple is framed in the context of the Cold War. Especially remarkable here is the mention of the ducks’ realpolitik views. Roughly explained, the German term Realpolitik is deployed in political sciences to describe an incredibly pragmatic approach to diplomatic relationships. In Realpolitik actions are not guided by any ideological principles, moral or ethic premises, but rather by a calibration of what is objectively possible to achieve, given the present circumstances. Remember that that is the first day after Armagewasn’t, after the nearly end of the world due to the tension between two sides with opposite believes. Much like Aziraphale and Crowley, Adam and the Them, or any single being on Earth, so far the ducks were experts in dealing from a very pragmatic approach with the consequences (namely, bread in this case) of two sides battling with one another. The first day after the failed Armageddon, the ducks have less bread, and they correctly attribute this change to tension having gone down. But here Terry and Neil are once more mixing human and non-human agents; the ducks were not getting most of their bread from Heaven or Hell’s agents, but from the human ones.

So, it’s rather clear that throughout the entire book a very strong parallelism between Cold War agents and Aziraphale and Crowley is established. Even the running fascination with James Bond that plagues the book points towards that direction. As we are about to see, Aziraphale and Crowley fit into the two main characters to be found in a James Bond film, albeit if as a grotesque parody of them.

Soviet Heaven and Capitalist Hell

As far as I can see, this mimesis between the Cold War and the war between Heaven and Hell is further emphasised by the many little descriptions we get from each supra-human side. This second point relies more on my own interpretation, but nonetheless I am offering it since I believe there is enough ground on which to base it. The first clear representation of two directly opposite sides colliding is to be found in Aziraphale and Crowley themselves. The portrayal in the miniseries is absolutely beautiful, but adorable as it is, I think of it as paradoxically less nuanced, although extremely fitting within the narrative and dynamics the characters have. In the show, Crowley tries to look as cool as our collective image expects a bad demon to be. Aziraphale looks as sweet and warm as one would imagine an angel to do. More importantly, they are both of similar age. In the book, however, it is stressed time and again that Crowley looks young. We do not know much about Aziraphale’s age until, once recorporated, Madam Tracy confesses to have expected him to look younger (P. 353) It is therefore reasonable to infer that there seems to be an age gap between them.

Moreover, Crowley is very clearly portrayed as a yuppie (think Patrick Bateman, from American Psycho). Apart from his shades, he is dressed in a suit (“Hastur gestured, and the plastic bulb dissolved […] spilling water all over Crowley’s desk, and all over Crowley’s suit.” P. 249) He has an incredibly luxurious watch that gives the time of 20 capitals while deep-diving (P. 16). His pen […] was sleek and matt black. It looked as though it could exceed the speed limit.” (P. 20) His flat is modern and unlived, with a full office, and a modern kitchen with a fridge full of gourmet food. There is a TV, music system, a fax and two phone lines, one of them with the ansaphone (P. 241, let us not forget by the time the book was written this was peak technology) Crowley even has a computer that he updates regularly “[…] because a sleek computer was the sort of thing Crowley felt that the sor to human he tried to be would have.” (P.241) This line is extremely relevant, inasmuch as it tells us that Crowley is actively seeking to project not just a “cool” look, but the look of a certain sort of human, namely, a successful, rich, young, businessman. A yuppie, the epitome of capitalist culture.

Meanwhile, Aziraphale has a vaguely mature appearance, yet a rather defined look too. Although we donot get as detailed a description for him as we do for Crowley (who has good cheekbones and dark hair, P. 16), we get to form a picture out of certain details. He has well-manicured and fleshy hands. He wears a camel hair coat (cannot find the reference), which is an expensive garment. He has a taste for good food (he licks himself clean of Warlock’s birthday cake, P. 76; he upgrades his wine at the British Museum after stealing Crowley’s angel cake, P.70). He does not swear, which goes well with his angelic nature, but also contributes to the Southern Pansy Look, for which everybody takes him for gay. People also assume he is clever (which he is, P. 159) and British. The Britishness matches with his camel hair coat and his manicured hands (sort of gentleman-like), and contributes to giving him the appearance of somebody cultivated and polite (his books, his language), if a little bit behind times. To round the look, there is a suspicion of homosexuality on it. If you are familiarised with the history of intellectualism you will easily recognise that Aziraphale looks like the stereotypical continental intellectual: slightly old-fashioned, with a penchant for hedonism, so well-mannered and cultivated that you have to wonder: Is he gay, or European? As anybody in 4chan would tell you, what is for sure is that he is a leftist.

The connection between being educated, well-spoken, well-mannered, homosexual and a leftist is not something that the altright has come up with recently, but steams out of a rather long tradition. Even before the fascist regimes of the 30s institutionalized this connection, leftist and progressive intellectuals had already been consistently slandered with suspicion of being corruptly hedonistic and weak (because they do not work like men and instead are femininely sensitive towards art, literature, music, etc.) and homosexuality (because, well, homophobia).All in all, what I am trying to say is that even with the sparse information we have from him, Aziraphale fits perfectly into the stereotype, so prevalent in British history, of a noble-born intellectual who has turned towards progressive ideas but has not really lost his manners and refined tastes inherited from his upper-class background. As I mentioned earlier, Aziraphale and Crowley bear a caricature-like resemblance with the two main characters of every James Bond film: the effeminate, poised, intellectual Russian baddie (that would be Aziraphale, who is an angel), and the stylish, nice-car-driving, always-with-a-come-back-ready (“ngk”, P. 274) hero. Crowley even bought petrol to get the James Bond’s bullet transfer for the Bentley, which he quite fancied at that time.

That Aziraphale could be seen as the agent from Communism and Crowley the agent representing Capitalism does not only seem plausible after examining what little description we have from them, but it also befits Heaven’s and Hell’s portrayal in the book:

“Well, Hell was worse, of course, by definition. But Crowley remembered hat Heaven was like, and it had quite a few things in common with Hell. You couldn’t get a decent drink in either of them, for a start. And the boredom you got in Heaven was almost as bad as the excitement you got in Hell.” (P. 22)

In just a couple of sentences Pratchett and Gaiman tell us that Heaven and Hell are each other’s flipped coin. They are the same, because they are both the end of a spectrum: Heaven is so peaceful and calm that you will die of boredom; Hell is so restless and fast-paced that you will suffer from excitement. Aziraphale and Crowley do a fair job as representants of both sides. Book!Aziraphale is not as much soft and sweet as maturely calm, collected and paused. He literally does not keep up with the time, and in the 90s he is still stuck in the 50s, both in terms of fashion and speech. His luxuries and tastes could not be more traditional (good wine, books, classically rich clothes –tartan, camel hair coat) but he is surely going to enjoy them all the same. Instead, Crowley rushes and dashes around during the whole story. Book!Crowley is not only always driving way over the speed limit, but we are told that he is a lithe figure (P. 20), a young, flashy man living to the latest trend. His music system does not have speakers because Crowley eventually forgot about the most crucial part of any music system. He is surrounded with luxuries he does not enjoy, because he actually has them for conspicuous consumption. In fact, the only possession he cherishes is the one that truly frees him, allowing him to go around as quickly as his live requires, but comfortably (horses were not really his thing). Befitting for a demon, Crowley life is so fast-paced that he does not really have the time to enjoy its niceties, and sometimes forgets the most relevant aspect of things (putting speakers, double-checking which room he is delivering the Antichrist to). Coincidentally, for us Millennials, this may sound like a familiar description of our lives under capitalism.

To round up the parallelism between Communism!Heaven and Capitalism!Hell, I will comment on the little facts we got about both sides from the book. Unlike the miniseries, we never get to see Heaven or Hell in the book and there is hardly any description of Heaven and Hell other than the one I quoted before. That is not to say, however, that we have no information regarding them. We are told that Hell does take Crowley suggestion to use electronics to communicate, even if they got it wrong. In fact, as it has been pointed out more than once, Book!Crowley gets recognition from his achievements. At the same time, though, he is constantly reminded of the dangers of failing. Interestingly, that does not only apply to Crowley (who is just a demon) but to every single hellish entity. In the book, Hastur kills all the call-centre workers not solely out of malice, but also because he knows he has failed (has lost Crowley) and is consequently scared of reporting back:

“And anyway, he reflected, if he were going to have to face the possible wrath of the Dark Council, at least it wouldn’t be on an empty stomach.” (P. 300)

Hastur is basically that employee having a snickers bar at the common area before facing a difficult meeting. Moreover, we are told Crowley is able to trick him because “Hastur was paranoid, which was simply a sensible and well-adjusted reaction to living in Hell, where they really were all out to get you.” (P. 250) Hell is thus a place of all-against-all, where you can be doing relatively fine until one mistake gets you horribly punished. Hell is flexible and ready to incorporate change (Crowley not only suggest electronics as a channel for communicating, but also sends the computer warranty as inspiration). Lastly, Hell communicates with its employees in a direct manner, either by high-jacking whatever medium Crowley is using, or by straight up getting into his head.

What is fascinating is that the dynamics that are attributed to Hell are also shown in the book on another group of people. More specifically, the employees of Industrial Holdings (Holdings PLC partaking in their management training. Through pages 98 and 99, and through the character of Tompkins, Assistant Head (Purchasing) it is made clear how things at the Industrial Holdings are. Although theoretically their paintball exercise aims to team building, they all know that in reality it is a “all-against-all” battle. The young trainees are hungry to escalate. The old ones like Tompkins are eager to climb the Holdings ladder too, while eliminating concurrence. Their communication style is as rough and direct as Hell’s. It was simply impossible for Crowley not to understand their desires, since it could be said both the Industrial Holdings and Hell operate on the same frequency:

“Tompkins thumbed another paint pellet into the gun and muttered business mantras to himself. Do Unto Others Before They Do Unto You. Kill Or Be Killed. Either Shit Or Get Out Of The Kitchen. Survival Of The Fittest. Make My Day.” (P. 99)

Again, if it sounds too familiar altogether it is because we Millennials know a couple of things about living in Hell… or Capitalism.

On the flipped side of the coin, we got Heaven, for which precisely the lack of information is the information. Like communist regimes, in the book it is truly impossible to discern how Heaven operates and who is ultimately responsible for it. On Tumblr it has been already pointed out that Hell seems to be more efficient, since Crowley appears to be under a stricter supervision and reporting-basis than Aziraphale. Indeed, this impression is remarkable, specially once we remember that Aziraphale “[…] was a Principality, but people made jokes about that these days.” (P. 42) Although in the most purely Good Omens’ fashion this sentence is obscure enough to be interpreted as one wished (who are the people? Humans? Other angels?) it is at least clear that allegedly Aziraphale has a higher charge in Heaven than Crowley does in Hell. Yet his (nobiliary) title does not make that much of a difference in how unattended he is left.

An even greater, and factually more sinister example of how remote and inaccessible Heaven is, specially for its primary supporters (those who work for its cause), is to be found when Aziraphale tries to report his findings of concerning Adam’s whereabouts:

“Getting in touch with Heaven for two-way communications was far more difficult for Aziraphale than it is for humans, who don’t expect an answer and in nearly all cases would be rather surprised to get one.” (P. 235)

Notice how Pratchett and Gaiman mention that it is difficult for Aziraphale to get a two-way communication. The implication is that, like communist regimes, communication in Heaven only happens from the higher-ups downwards, never from the bottom “citizens” upwards. The parallelism can border on dark humour when it is said that it is easy for humans to get an answer from Heaven, even if they were not expecting one. As if Heaven, not unlike the Stalin’s URSS or North Korea, was randomly listening to conversations, and acting upon them regardless of whether that conversation was public or private.

Moreover, the adherence Aziraphale has for Heaven is as reminiscent of that expected in communist regimes, as Crowley’s acceptance of Hell parallels our own resignation with capitalism. Aziraphale ascribes his support to Heaven to his very nature. Unlike Crowley, who belongs to Hell circumstantially (he fell) Aziraphale belongs to Heaven in as literal a sense as those under communist regimes belonged to the state. Thus, he tells Crowley:

“All right. All right. I don’t like it any more than you, but I told you. I can’t disod – disoy – not do what I’m told. ‘M a’nangel.” (P. 54)

And again, when he realises that he wants to share his discovery about Adam with Crowley, but should report to Heaven instead:

“He was an angel, after all. You had to do the right thing. It was built-in- You see a wile, you thwart.” (P. 234)

It is easy to recognise in this reasoning the same course of mindless obedience indoctrinated in communist regimes: as a citizen of the state, one should behave as it is expected from them, that is, to the benefit of the state always in mind. What really matters is to never diverge from the party’s line, which Aziraphale valiantly tries to do. Meanwhile, Capitalism!Hell, it is all about maximising results, which by the way Crowley tries to achieve as well, even if Hastur and Ligur fail to see so.

Finally, the entire conversation Aziraphale holds with the Metatron further evidences how detached Heaven as an institution is from its most devoted acolytes. A quick rereading of the entire passage will prove that Aziraphale gets no clue as who is picking up the phone, so to speak. Neither does the Metatron see it fit to identify himself to Aziraphale (the angel has to explicitly ask him to do so). Even though Aziraphale’s eagerness and willingness to provide alternatives is clear in his speech, the Metatron never warms up and stays in his role of an annoyed high-ranked official who suddenly has to attend a petty man’s administrative request. Nonetheless, although it could seem that Heaven can hardly be bothered to take Aziraphale seriously, after being admonished, our angel notices that

“[t]he light faded, but did not quite vanish. They’re leaving the line open, Aziraphale thought. I’m not getting out of this one.” (P. 237)

Heaven exerts the same control over its workers as Hell does, but for those of us who have always lived in a capitalist system, Hell’s ways are recognisable, and thus look more efficient. However, Heaven has got a firm grip over its employees too. While Aziraphale was keeping a low profile (allegedly working within party’s line) he was left unbothered, even if in reality he was not being that productive. As soon as he raises his voice, even if a little, even if it is not to express disagreement but a mere alternative, they claim him back, they leave him no possibility of escaping. Most dismal of all is, Aziraphale realises so straight away and knows to have no possible way out, unlike Crowley. Similarly, notice how in the book we never know what happens once Aziraphale goes back to Heaven, nor how he manages to return to Earth and start his search for a receptive body at a convenient geographic location. Much like in the URSS, within Heaven’s walls everything is a secret.

What’s going to be left for you?

The third way in which Book!Good Omens brings to mind the Cold War is to be found in the notion of Armageddon, and in how it is avoid. Pratchett and Gaiman go as far as jokingly have the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse baffled at the fact that the end of the world will not be triggered in a traditional fashion. Instead, as the Metatron explains to Aziraphale, it will all begin “[…] a multi-nation nuclear exchange” (P. 237) I am sure the dark humour did not fly under the radar for the first readers of the book.

Although by 1990 the idea that computers, and more broadly technology, could destroy the world was already flourishing (The Matrix was just 9 years away), the real fear was for nuclear war. Again, James Bond’s movies are brought to mind. In them, the mere pressing of a red button sets into motion a technological weapon able to erase all life around. Thankfully, Sean Connery is always around, knowing exactly how to fix the mess while looking dapper. I would like to quickly point out that in keeping with the James Bond mockery, in Good Omens this job is performed by Newt Pulsifer, who Anathema notices “[…] was tall, but with a rolled-out, thin look. And while his hair was undoubtedly dark, it wasn’t any sort fashion accessory; […] It was the same with suits. The clothing hadn’t been invented that would make him look suave and sophisticated and comfortable. […] And he wasn’t handsome.” (PP. 202-203). To round up the joke, Newt is able to deactivate nuclear Armageddon precisely because he has not a clue of what he is doing.

Thus, the idea of a nuclear Armageddon was not really something that Pratchett and Gaiman came up with, but rather, like any good writers, the result of their ability to pick up the general ambience of their time and express it artistically. And in that sense, Book!Good Omens is the reallt punk tale of getting rid of not one, but two systems. Like the Western and Eastern blocks, Heaven and Hell must be stopped because both of them had become so wrapped up in their ideology, so devoted to their own glory, that they have completely forgotten about the people they both pretended to serve, and for whom they both were allegedly created. Book!Good Omens is truly the hilarious journey to return power to the people, to the collective. It is really a cry towards tolerance and acceptance, towards embracing even those who appear to be your complete opposite, because in becoming united we become unstoppable. I would argue that that is precisely the reason behind the constant mockery of the James Bond films. Book!Good Omens tells us that the world will not be saved by transferring the power from the systems to a single individual (the Hero), but by transferring it to a collective that embraces each and every of its members, because they are all valid. In this sense, one of the wisest choices that Pratchett and Gaiman made was to never get God to meddle in the story. God remains entirely unknown, since in keeping up with the Christian tradition and the Good Omens universe, his/her appearance would mark the revealing of the ultimate truth, the ultimate right (or the ineffable truth and right). But the story is not really about sorting out who is right, so God must stay out of the way.

In that regard, many book fans have complained about Greasy Johnson and the Johnsonites being omitted from the series. Out of all the wonderful details that could not make it to the final cut, I must agree that this is the one I believe to be the most detrimental, since it undermines Adam’s arch and part of the narrative. Both in the book and the series, Adam’s powers awaken with his awareness of how the world is being polluted, deforested, and shortly, destroyed. We manage to sympathise with him even in his darkest hour because all the time his intentions are good. He might be getting his means wrong (antichristing around) but his ends are commendable. We all would like to save the world too. But the entire point of Good Omens is precisely that that is what Heaven and Hell intended to do as well: “‘But after we win life will be better!’ croaked the angel.” (P. 45) Pratchett and Gaiman are being as generous as giving both capitalism (Hell) and communism (Heaven) the benefit of the doubt. Maybe they both sprang from good intentions, but the direction that the whole thing has taken is deplorable. Eventually it has all being reduced to who is going to get to administer the world, who is going to impose their view. That is why Pepper really manages to shake Adam up by asking the crucial question, the question that makes him realises how pointless his intend is: “What bit’re you going to have, Adam?” (P. 303) As Pepper realises, if you transform everything, if you change everything –even if for the good– nothing that you knew before will be left.

However, although that is what helps Adam come back to his senses, it is not what allows him to argue Heaven’s and Hell’s discourse back. Again, that is such a feather in Pratchett and Gaiman’s cap; sometimes you know what you want to do, but you are clueless at how to do it (like a certain angel and demon). Enter here the Johnsonites. Adam eventually realises that Heaven and Hell are like the Them and the Johnsonites, only that the latter pair are clever enough to acknowledge that what makes life fun is actually having a rival to wrestle with:

“I just don’t see why everyone and everything has to be burned up and everything. […] An’ not even for anything important. Jus’ to see who’s got the best gang. […] But even if you win, you can’t really beat the other side, because you don’t really want to. I mean, not for good.” (P. 356)

Just as Crowley slyly pointed out to Aziraphale at the beginning, if Heaven wins maybe life may become better, but it will not be that interesting. His point is exactly the same that Pepper makes to Adam: what is going to be left for you?

More interestingly, as the Metatron and Beelzebub try to rebuke Adam’s argument, the boy tells them:

“I don’t see what’s so triffic about creating people as people and then getting’ upset ‘cos they act like people […]” (P. 357)

And again, that is the same thing Aziraphale and Crowley have been saying all along. As many have noticed, in Book!Omens the angel and the demon are more explicitly united by their love towards humanity. Aziraphale and Crowley have come to love humanity even with all its flaws. They were meant to try and influence (change) humans and instead they have eventually accepted them as they are. Which is exactly what Adam realises in the end: it is not about trying to perfect humanity or the world, even if you intentions are the best. It is about accepting that there is no definite right or truth (God is ) and that good and evil are so tightly laced that the same politician can be in Aziraphale’s and Crowley’s list. Neither communism nor capitalism are 100% good or bad. However, they become dangerous when they try to change people, to transform the world entirely, because in doing so they annihilate the very reason for which they exerted themselves: the people.

Thanks to the Them, and the Johnsonites, and Anathema and her wacky magazines, and Mr. R. Tyler who chases them around town, Adam understands that the world needs no fixing and embraces it as it is. The generosity that such acceptance involves is what enables him to  to free himself from his “nature”. Similarly, all along the story Aziraphale and Crowley knew that they had zero interest in changing the world. But both of them –and I can stress this enough, in the book it’s both of them– struggled to free themselves. Crowley, being always under direct threat, was too afraid to disobey; Aziraphale, being wrapped up in his party’s discourse, thought he was incapable of disobeying. But just as Adam Young eventually finds the generosity to repress his young and naïve impulse to change the world for the better, so do Aziraphale and Crowley. For most of the story, Crowley has been the one who knew that neither of them wanted for the world to change. Aziraphale had trouble admitting that because as I have said, he had to break some mental barriers (“I cannot possibly do that). But once he breaks them, he is the one helping Crowley overcome his fear of Hell’s punishment by using the very argument Crowley has put forward to him. As Satan is approaching, Aziraphale talks Crowley into adopting as generous a course of action as Adam has already done:

“ ‘There are humans here,’ he [Aziraphale] said.

‘Yes,’ said Crowley. ‘And me.’

‘I mean we shouldn’t let this happen to them […] we’ve got them into enough trouble as it is. You and me. Over the years. […]

‘We were only doing our jobs,’ muttered Crowley.

‘Yes. So what? Lots of people in history have only done their jobs and look at the trouble they caused.’

‘You don’t mean we should actually try to stop Him?’

‘What have you got to lose?’ (P. 363)

               Just as we do not get to see or hear God (the ultimate good), in Book!Omens we do not get to see Satan either. In the Dramatis Personae at the beginning, Satan is defined as “the Adversary”. And rightly so. If God is that ineffable goodness, Satan is the ineffable badness. Hence why, once Adam is rejecting to obey his nature out of sheer generosity (goodness) Satan stars raising to scold him. It is the ultimate attempt of all evil in the world (all selfishness, all self-entitlement) to take things back to the status quo. But it is to late already. What Satan (evil) is about to face when he raises up is a compactly united world where everybody has accepted ad embraced their opposite. The Them cherish the Johnsonites; the Witch and the Witchfinder love each other; Madam Tracy and Shadwell are together. And the two agents, the angel and the demon, have just finally told each other that they are together not because the circumstance have forced them to, but because the appreciate each other.

               That is exactly why I would argue that their love confession of sorts in the books is as powerful as the final Ritz scene in the series. All throughout the story, Aziraphale and Crowley have tried to tell themselves that their relationship, the Arrangement, steams out of circumstances:

“It was the sort of sensible arrangement that many isolated agents, working in awkward conditions a long way from their superiors, reach with their opposite number when they realize that they have more in common with their immediate opponents than their remote allies.” (P. 43)

“They got along. They nearly understood one another He [Aziraphale] sometimes suspected they had far more in common with one another than with their respective superiors.” (P. 234)

Hence why their open declaration right before facing the Adversary becomes so striking. As readers we have been able to recognise all along that the angel and the demon like each other, even if they do not want to admit so. But once faced with utter destruction, and ready to try to protect the humanity out of pure generosity and acceptance for humans as they are, they become free to accept each other openly as well. And they do so by acknowledging the impossible in the other. Thus, Aziraphale, the one who was wrapped up in a black&white discourse of right and wrong tells Crowley that there is good in him. Meanwhile, Crowley, the one imbued in a all-against-all system based on appearances and excitement, tells the old-fashioned and bookish angel that he is enough of a bastard to be worth liking. Try to imagine a communist saying to a capitalist that there is good in them and you will get how powerful a confession that is. Try to imagine a wolf of Wallstreet saying to a leftist intellectual that they are enough of a bastard to be cool and likeable and you will get how unlikely a confession that is.

Pratchett and Gaiman eventually come to exemplify how powerless evil is when faced with such a united world, where all are supporting one another despite their differences. Satan does not make it to the surface because it has already been defeated. In the end, in Book!Omens each and every single character relies so much so on the others that as it has been pointed out by many, there is no individual hero. It is not that Aziraphale and Crowley are useless. It is that they needed to rely on humanity as much as humanity needed for them to leave their sides. Just as Adam could not have made it without the Them and the Johnsonites, Anathema could not have been successful without Newt, and Newt would still be the outsider without Anathema. The same applies to Madam Tracy and Shadwell. And that is the whole point of Book!Omens: there is no single hero, no James Bond. Instead, Armageddon, the Adversary, the Cold War are prevented when opposites embrace each other and accept each other. Because the miniseries has been made at a different time, it is accordingly more focused on what is most missing in nowadays ultra-liberal world: love and tenderness, the brave act of allowing oneself to be soft and vulnerable, to confide in others. Paradoxically, what we lack in our current, extremely individualistic world, is the ability to accept ourselves as we are, and demand to treat others and be treated by others with tenderness. But at the time of Book!Omens, the most punk and radical act was paradoxically to abandon two incredibly well-established discourses, two solid blocks that offered equally solid definitions of good vs wrong. Instead, the bravest act was to choose to adhere no narrative, and take part for nobody but humanity itself, embracing all of it. What makes both Good Omens the same work is the struggle for freedom; what makes them different is what that freedom is. But in both Book!Omens and Series!Omens not fighting for freedom entails the same danger: eventually the most precious thing would be lost, namely, the world itself, be it humanity or the most loved being on Earth.

Accordingly, on the first day of the rest of their lives the only two agents to be found at St James’s Park turn out to be working for the same side, although neither of them realised so, to their mutual embarrassment. Aziraphale and Crowley were also on the same side all along, although they did not –or wanted not– to acknowledge so. But now that they have embraced each other, they are free. Like their human counterparts, they are no longer under the influence of Above, Below, or even the Past (as is the case of Anathema). Very much like the rest of the characters, they can look at the future freely and with their own eyes and minds. And so, a nightingale sings in Berkeley Square and an angel and a demon dine at the Ritz.

[fleckcmscott]

The Vanity

Summary: Arthur tries to get ready for work. Y/N joins him.

Warnings: Smut, swearing

Words: 3,774

A/N: This request comes from the marvelous brain of @ithinkimawriter. Again, thanks to @sweet-nothings04 for beta-reading!

If you have any thoughts or questions, please comment, feel free to message me, or send me an ask. Requests for Arthur and WWH are open!

After he started street performing and getting gigs again, Arthur found he needed a better place to put his supplies for work. The two small shelves in the bathroom were already covered by his and Y/N's toiletries, so they didn't fit there. He'd been keeping it all in a plastic bag in the closet, but that wasn't ideal. The enclosed space had a tendency to get too hot due to how the heat worked in the apartment, which made his make-up dry out. And the brushes were getting damaged because of improper storage.

Having to borrow money from her wasn't the only reason he was hesitant to mention he would prefer a vanity. Y/N would often sit on the closed lid of the toilet, watching him lean over the sink while he applied greasepaint to his face. If he had his own work area, he assumed she'd probably hold back from him when he was in it, like she did when he was in his writing nook. It was one of the ways she showed him respect. But he loved her keeping him company when he'd get in costume, how they would discuss the day and plan for the evening.

She'd begun asking more about his job, seeming to be genuinely interested in it. They were simple questions: how long he'd been a clown ("About ten years. Maybe twelve?"); what he liked best about it ("Every day is different. And making kids laugh."); and what the hardest part was. He pondered on what answer he could give, one that was accurate, but wouldn't cause her concern. He hadn't wanted to tell her he still had to deal with mean people (though incidents were seldom and he was better at handling them). If he did that, she'd probably insist on riding with him, despite his reassurances he could take care of himself. "The commute can be rough," he'd admitted. Then he'd bent down to her and tapped her nose lightly with the tip of his brush. "It's good knowing I have you to come home to." Her wide smile and gleaming squint had been full of adoration, in spite of her reaching for a tissue to wipe her face.

Eventually he told her, though. "There's a cosmetic table at Donahue's Department Store," he said, giving her the flyer they'd gotten in the mail as he sunk onto the sofa cushion beside her. He pointed at the picture of the vanity, with its dark brown veneer and two drawers on both sides of the sitting area. The oval mirror had sides that folded in at an adjustable angle, which, he explained, would make it easier for him to ensure the white base covered every part of his face. "We could put it on my side of the bed. By the window. It's only a couple feet long, a foot deep. I already measured the space."

She looked intrigued. "Mr. Fleck, you want to put a giant mirror next to our bed?" The glint in her eye was obvious.

He blinked at her. "I need a space to put my make-up. The lighting will be better there."

Studying the page, she leaned her head on him, a smirk in her voice. "Of course."

He wondered why she was joking around when he was being serious. But he continued with what he had to say. "I don't want you to stop watching me get ready if we buy it. It'd be yours, too. It's not expensive. But- But I'd need to borrow a little from you. I could pay you ba-"

"Don't start with that," she interrupted. "I'll call them right now." With a kiss to his shoulder, she got up and walked to the phone. He eagerly waited in the kitchen entrance, worrying his pockets while she sat on the counter making notes. Then she hung up and gave him the good news: the store would be able to deliver it Friday afternoon, cash-on-delivery, fully assembled for a small fee. Arthur grabbed his wallet, took out all $22, and shoved it at her until she rolled her eyes and stuck it in an envelope for the payment. "I'll put a couple mascaras in there," she said wryly. "Then maybe you'll stop worrying about the money."

~~~~~

The party would be starting at 1:00 PM. Arthur had to hop on the red line from Burnley, transfer to the blue line in Hinckley, then take the train to Gotham Village. The commute would be just under an hour if there were no delays (which had become more frequent ever since the prior year's budget cuts). Gary had assured him he didn't have to worry. He'd worked for a friend of the family before and they were nice people. The kid liked magic tricks and balloon animals. It'd be easy. And he'd be home for the Saturday Night Made-for-TV movie Y/N wanted to catch with him. (Courtroom dramas weren't his thing, but he wouldn't miss the chance to settle his arm around her and pretend to be engrossed.)

Sitting at the vanity, with its round stool and solid, cream color cushion, made him feel like a professional getting ready to face the day. Even if he was a clown. The light shining through the sheer, muslin curtains of their bedroom was bright enough to get started. After removing his shirt and raking his brown locks back, he dabbed the brush in his pot of white foundation. The bristles ran across his forehead and strong brow in even lines, over the straight bridge and rounded tip of his nose, then down his right temple, careful not to get the pigment in his sideburn. Tilting his head and holding steady, he painted curved, smooth strokes over his sharp cheekbone, down to his jawline, then repeated the motions on the left side of his face. His mouth parted as he colored the area under his nose, his thin lips, and chin. When the paint was distributed evenly, he blended it with a sponge, using small, circular motions.

Y/N's soft footsteps approached as he finished the blue triangles above and below his left eye. "What kind of sandwich do you want to take with you?" she asked from the bedroom doorway.

That turned the corner of his mouth up. Whenever Arthur had a job around lunch, she packed him something to eat. He hadn't yet gotten use to being taken care of. The attention made him feel self-conscious. He wasn't certain he'd ever believe he deserved it. But more and more often, he found himself able to simply appreciate her thoughtfulness. "Anything will be okay. Wait - do we have turkey?"

"Yeah. I'll make it soon." He watched her in the mirror as she walked up behind him and sat on his side of the bed. "You don't have to leave for a couple hours," she said, working on her thumbnail with a file. "I'm surprised you’re in here already."

It was a bit early to be preparing for the gig, but he didn't want to be late. If these people really were as gracious as Gary claimed, maybe he'd be able to perform again at their next party. Or they'd recommend him to other families. Then he'd definitely be able to pay off the ring he was buying Y/N and give it to her in October, as he'd planned. He finished working on the triangle under his right eye, having already done the one on his brow. "I wanna make sure I get it right," he said. "I used to do it every day."

She got up and propped herself on the edge of the table, dropping the emery board on it. "You're much better at that than I am," she said as he drew the outline of an exaggerated smile, then filled it in. "I'm lucky I don't poke my eye out with my liner."

Chuckling, he let his gaze flit up to hers before continuing. It was difficult not to be distracted by her proximity; she was pretty even in her casual, weekend outfit. The black, white-seamed tank top showed off the contours of her breasts. And its slits, stopping just above her hips, enticed him. Glancing at her legs, he admired the curves exposed by her matching, form-fitting track shorts. The stray hairs on her calves were few, leftovers from her electric razor - he’d have to remind her to change the blade.

She scooted closer. "Do you know how beautiful you are in that?" she said, indicating his make-up. "You took my breath away when I first saw it. Well, that paired with your good hair."

A scoff left him as he put red eyebrows midway up his forehead. The paint helped him get into character. But he was aware his visage was more weathered than most thirty-five year old men. And he disliked how the color would accentuate the lines and crevices in his face. "It shows my wrinkles," he murmured, to himself as much as to her.

"I love your wrinkles," she said. "And your squishy cheeks." Then she cupped his face. He recoiled almost instantly, grasping her hand. A bit of paint had gotten on her. "Oops, I smudged you." Before he could protest, she grabbed the white brush from the jar behind her and perched herself on him. It caught him off guard. But after a few seconds, he put his left arm around her waist to steady her.

The tension in his body grew and his eyelids drifted shut. The bristles tickled with Y/N controlling them - he'd never had someone else do his make-up before. The wet of the paint and the weight of her on his lap reminded him of one of his earliest fantasies of her. He'd imagined bringing her to HaHa's and showing her off to his co-workers. (In particular, Randall, that asshole who'd been married and divorced twice, constantly complained about his exes and whoever he was seeing, and probably didn't even know what a clit was.) Even though they'd made fun of him, and he didn't understand all their comments about women, he could have proven he was worthy of a girlfriend.

Arthur sighed. He didn't like how the tenderness she was showing him prompted his thinking to go to such a bitter place. Especially since he felt he was doing better and believed he was moving on. Not wanting to spoil the lovely morning he was having with her, he concentrated on the physical space around him, the way Dr. Ludlow had taught him. He focused on the warmth of Y/N's form on his thighs, the hint of her pleasing natural scent over the chalky smell of the greasepaint, the way her fingers curled on his chest as she tried to fix the smear she'd made. The burning in his shoulders alerted him to the fact that he was flushing, and he ducked his head slightly.

It wasn't the best moment to get aroused - he really did want to get ready for work. But then she leaned into him, her breasts flush with his torso, and his heartbeat quickened. Her pebbled nipples through the thin fabric of her top prompted him to slowly trace the hem of her shorts. With his blood rushing to his groin, he nearly didn't hear her sound of displeasure. "What?" he rasped.

"I'm making this worse."

He moved to look past her, in the mirror. The carefully formed triangle still had a wide base, but one side was uneven, the tapering causing it to look like an icicle. He shook his head and seized the brush, pretending to be annoyed. "This is why I started early."

"Really?" she replied, tousling his hair. A couple stray curls fell onto his forehead. "I was hoping it was so we'd have time." The slight scrape of her nails on his scalp, and the invitation in her eyes made his mouth run dry.

Since they'd gotten together, he'd been learning his boundaries and figuring out what he liked. Y/N was understanding and patient, and happily answered any questions he could bring himself to ask. And when he misinterpreted something or made a mistake, she accepted it with humor. Her easy manner and generosity healed any embarrassment, even when he needed a few minutes to stop being flustered.

Making love with his clown face on wasn't something they had discussed. But if she wanted to, he wasn't opposed. He huffed, put the brush on the table, then let his fingertips slide down her neck. When she adjusted her legs and bumped his erection, he dipped under the strap of her shirt. "Time for what?" He hoped he sounded confident enough to tease her. The kiss she gave him was urgent but he drew back. "This stuff doesn't taste good," he warned.

"I don't care," she breathed, dipping to his mouth again, arms going around him. At that, he reached up her shorts, in a hurry to have her as close to him as possible. Lips continuing to pull at hers, he helped her stand and take them off, along with her underwear. He wanted to watch as she straddled him, but her kisses were demanding, and he was losing the ability to think clearly. Instead, he palmed her ass, savoring the feel of her slow but enthusiastic undulations against his length. Eventually, she broke away from him, pressing her forehead to his. "I made a mess," she giggled.

He looked down between them. The stain of her slick had gotten on the front of his blue pants, its faint whiteness shining in the bright sunlight. "Oh..." He licked his upper lip at the sight and shuddered. "Y/N?"

"Yes?"

One of her requests had been that he attempt to be more explicit, to tell her what he wanted. He might as well try it again now. Swallowing thickly, he forced the words out. "I need to fuck you."

The light laugh that left her was delighted. "I'm right here," she purred as she helped him shed her shirt.

Once it was gone, he lifted her off him and sat her on the vanity, suddenly overcome with the need to take her. He threaded his fingers through her hair, angling his head upwards to tangle his tongue with hers. The grip she had on his biceps was almost bruising but he loved it. It made her inexplicable desire for him tangible. Slowly, he traced down over her stomach to hold her hips. His mouth reached her chest, and he panted between his sucking of her nipples and open-lipped kisses on her breasts.

He backed away, taking in the make-up he'd smeared on her body and face. The possession he felt at that shocked him, but he enjoyed it all the same. Then he gazed down at her core with hooded eyes and groaned. She was beautiful, splayed before him like she was, her center red, swollen, and so wet her arousal was on her thighs. He placed his palm on the crease of her thigh, licking his lip as he stretched to toy with her engorged clit. Her grip moved to his shoulder as she jerked up into his touch. He nuzzled her sternum as he continued, rapidly moving the pad of his thumb back and forth over the sensitive nub. The motions of her pelvis quickened, matching his fervor. But as his lips began to trail down to her abdomen, she stopped him. "I want to come with you in me."

After gathering himself, he stood and slipped out of his trousers and briefs. He bent to pick them up and put them on the bed, and she hopped off the vanity and turned around. It confused him at first. But then she braced herself on the table with her forearms. “Come on,” she whispered.

The sight of her bowed over like that, asking him to fill her, was undeniably arousing. But this was something new. They'd been exploring gradually. Despite his complete trust in her, he had to question it. “It’s- It’s hard to see you this way. Your face.”

“That’s what the mirror’s for.” Her eyes were wicked when they met his in the glass.

Ah. He chuckled, feeling silly for not knowing that. Then she pressed back, the swell of her buttocks nudging his hard-on. When she held herself open for him, he stopped doubting. Letting the clutch of her walls and her soft moans guide him, he slowly entered her.

When he was engulfed in her completely, he stilled and gazed at the mirror. The reflection made him snort - his greasepaint was smeared all over, the white, red, and blue smudged together inseparably, much like their two bodies. It was odd to see himself standing there - he wasn't sure if he liked it. So he blinked down at her face; he held his breath. He hadn’t even done anything, and she looked like she was about to get off. Then he felt the flicker of her fingertips on his cock. Reaching around her and between her legs, he said, “Let me.” She obliged, allowing him to entwine their fingers as she stroked herself.

Her words came out as a whimper. “Arthur...” She pushed towards him. “I need you to move.”

Eagerly, he withdrew and bucked into her, grunting and quickly speeding up. But he was too clumsy and slipped out of her. They both laughed as she grasped him and lined him up with her entrance. “Just go easy,” she said. “Don’t pull out too far.” Concentrating, he put his other hand on her hip and did his best to control the shallow rocking of his hips. The one or two inches of friction wasn’t enough for him; it seemed to be working for her, though. But it was hard to maintain his rhythm when the sound of her ass and thighs hitting him was making him want to lose himself completely.

Releasing her hand, he straightened a bit and allowed his gaze to rove over her. She was writhing beneath him, bent forward as she chased her pleasure. His touch ghosted up her spine, gentle along the faint knobs (much less prominent than his) under her smooth skin. Kneading her left shoulder, he looked at her reflection. Her head was tilted back, her brows stitched together as she strove back towards him. The lips he loved to kiss parted with every whine. And her breasts swayed with each thrust, their stiff peaks grazing the surface of the table.

A groan escaped him. He’d seen her expression contort in bliss a lot at this point. But it felt voyeuristic, watching her like this. Almost as if the mirror separated them in spite of their joining. A shiver went up him at the thrill of it, and he plunged faster, his palm on her side pulling her towards him. She met him, move for move, even as her hips stuttered, and he felt the familiar spasm of her muscles start around him. He drove inside her, hard, when she fell apart, and stayed buried deep while she rode out her climax. It wasn’t easy to do, the pulsing grip of her core nearly inducing him to move. She sobbed, her frame curling as she lowered her head to her vanity. Gasping, she squeezed his hand on her shoulder. The trembling of her legs caught his attention, so he rubbed her thigh soothingly and kissed her.

Once she’d relaxed, he left her body long enough to turn her around, set her on the table, and fill her again. Now he wasn’t patient. His lips devoured her mouth as he rutted within her, her walls around his hard cock flooding his senses. He hoped he’d never get use to this. At the building tautness of his muscles, he propped himself up on the vanity and grit his teeth. One of her hands held his hip, the other digging the small of his back, guiding him as he fucked her with abandon. “Arthur, don’t stop."

His movements faltered when her legs encircled his waist, then sudden, white hot fire consumed him. Everything disappeared as he moaned in the crook of her neck - everything that wasn't her. She gripped him tightly, her soft "Yes" caressing his ear and his heart. His toes curled into the carpet and his pelvis locked with hers, his essence pouring inside her, his length throbbing, surrounded by her heat.

Finally, he was able to straighten and catch his breath. He could feel her smile against his temple, and he patted her flank gently before he withdrew from her. First he sat on the edge of the bed, then let himself lay down and raked his fingers through his hair, closing his eyes. That had been intense. And a work out. He could feel the sweat on his scalp. He’d have to shower again.

He hadn’t realized Y/N had stepped out until she reclined next to him and pressed a warm washcloth to his forehead. “Sorry about your make-up.”

“I think I can forgive you,” he laughed. His fingertips dragged up her side as he looked at her washed face in wonder. The gentle way she was dabbing at him, the love she radiated, would never stop being remarkable. This was one of the moments she made him believe he was the luckiest man in Gotham, despite the wretchedness that had been most of his life, and the conditions he struggled with.

Arthur accepted the cloth from her and sat up, watching as she stood and washed the vanity's surface. “Did you like it?” she asked.

“Yes.” He wiped the greasepaint from his skin. “Were you always like this?”

Y/N glanced over her shoulder. “Like what?”

Unsure how to describe it, he gestured at her vaguely.  “I dunno. Out there?”

"Out there?" she snorted. "I think you mean vocal." With a shake of her head, she knelt in front of him and rested her forearms on his knees. “That came with experience. And you may not be. That's fine. You'll figure it out.” Then she nuzzled at his nose. “It helps when you're with the right person.”

His chest swelled at that description of him, that she regarded him as such, and he put his arm around her. “Yeah,” he said quietly. Then he quirked a brow at her, touching the marks his paint had left on her chest. “Does this mean you have a thing for clowns?”

The tickling of his ribs wasn’t entirely unexpected. “No." She nestled against him and kissed his jaw. "I have a thing for you.”

~~~~~

Tag list (Let me know if you want to be added!): @harmonioussolve @ithinkimaperson @sweet-nothings04 @stephieraptorr @rommies @fallenstarsabyss @gruffle1 @octopus-plasma

[mimssides]

Life on Crow Avenue: Part 22

Read on AO3

Masterpost | Taglist | Masterpost LoCA

First | Previous | Next

___

Lunch was going well this Friday and Virgil was talking with Logan about good books on pet care for families and kids who wanted to help with the training of their pets. Because of that he almost missed Roman asking Remus about changing the working hours.

“Why would you want to change the opening and closing times?” Virgil asked a little anxiously even though he did not know why he felt anxious right now.

Roman was reacting quicker than Remus was and turned to Virgil with a gentle smile on his lips.

“Oh, we’re thinking about hiring someone working part-time for the store. Ideally, they could also help us with the taxes and stuff but just a helping hand would be a nice start. And if we had help, we could maybe do an evening sale once a week or and open on Saturdays,” Roman explained and suddenly all were staring at him.

Logan, Virgil and Janus seemed a little taken aback while Patton looked slightly overwhelmed though happy. Curiously he let his eyes rest on Remus and saw him subtly nod towards his direction. Patton beamed. The twins had had a talk yesterday night and he felt so happy that things finally were turning around for them. They truly deserved it.

“So, you could maybe have some more free time, I assume?” Patton offered after another beat of silence and Roman directly caught onto his line of reasoning.

“Yeah,” Roman agreed with a wide smile, “that was the plan! We never had that luxury before but I think that we could try to treat ourselves now, right Emi?”

Remus leaned back in his chair and looked uncharacteristically blank from Roman to Patton before he gave a slow nod and added: “Yeah. That’s the idea. The flowers sales are working well and we have a steady number of returning customers. It’s not a bad investment to employ someone now, when were still having everything under control. It’s the best time to make them familiar with the shop.”

“I wasn’t aware that your store was going this well,” Logan said and eyed the brothers with furrowed brows.

At that Remus’s odd behaviour stopped and he snickered, while Roman gasped offendedly. With astounding speaking speed Roman began to rattle down about the flower delivery service, the decoration for different holidays and celebrations, they provided as well as all the advertisements he had made and was still making on social media and the several posters and flyers he had hung up on community boards and distributed around a few retirement homes as well in parks around the aera.

“When did you have time to do all that?” Janus asked as Roman ended and began to eat the pasta he had prepared for them today.

Chewing and gesticulating with his fork Roman answered: “Before the move we had a few days, because we packed everything up rather quickly and then I got to design a few things on our laptop. And when we came here, I did the footwork, when Rem had a bit of help from the movers to get the store in order. It’s an important part of business and mouth to mouth advertisement is really good with clientele but especially older clientele, like ours. And we can’t stop now just because it’s going well. We’ve gotta go with the time and make sure we’re still what our customers want and need.”

“So, you’re basically your own advertisement department?” Janus asked frowning.

“Yeah. It’s important for business. I want to eat and for us to have a home. Can’t be slacking off, can I? Also, I like doing it. Our teacher always let me design new posters for the store and even paid for a and editing program that I still use because I was really good at it. It’s a fun change from – Oh, do you think I could hang up a job application ad at the board from the theatre group? Or would Rodriguez not like that?”

Janus almost had a whiplash from the sudden change of topic but then confirmed that Roman very likely wouldn’t have any objections against that. Roman seemed to be more than happy about it and the group returned to their lunch and previous conversations.

___

A week later Janus and Roman went to the meeting of their theatre group. Roman had offered to drive him, so Virgil didn’t have to or that Janus didn’t have to drive himself, as he apparently wasn’t a good driver and didn’t like to drive. To Janus it was a rather welcome development and he liked sitting on the co-driver’s seat and watching Roman behind the wheel.

When they arrived, nothing was out of the ordinary; they greeted their friends, asked how everyone was, just the causal small talk until all where here and they could start with the current meeting.

The time flew by and soon their meeting had reached the end. They were all sticking around for a bit and Roman took his chance to talk with Rodriguez about the ad he wanted to hang up and went to talk with him in the backroom where they stored some props. Janus used that opportunity to gather the rest and finally speak with Samantha.

“Okay, I need to be quick but I have a small request, Sammy dearest,” Janus began and the whole group was already curiously listening.

“What is it Jay?” Samantha asked rather suspiciously of the sweet tone.

Unbothered by her visible distrust Janus answered: “You will be out of town at the 4th, as you usually are, I assume?”

“Yeah, I just wanted to remind you all of-”

“Do me a favour and do not do that. I would like to surprise Roman with something. And as I know him, he won’t let himself have some additional downtime which means I will have to trick him into it. And for that I could use the meeting as an excuse, if you would not inform him that it’s not taking place.”

Samantha blinked several times before she frowned at him and raised an eyebrow in a disapproving manner.

“I won’t help you seduce this him, Jay. I’m not an accomplice to your playboy stick,” she told him.

Janus let out a groan and he shot a vicious look the tree women that snickered at his predicament.

“For once I’m not trying to do that, Sam! He – He needs something for himself and I doubt that a one-night stand is what that is or that he would even be interested in that. I really just want him to have something nice. He’s been through a lot lately and I don’t think he’s really taking care of himself. Just don’t say anything to him. I’ll do the rest. It’s all I ask of you.”

Samantha scrunched her nose. She wouldn’t say she was Janus’s friend but she liked the man well enough. He was a cynical and sarcastic character and he was a decent improviser and actor. And she did respect him, despite his casual anecdotes of sleeping with random men once in a while. She looked over his shoulder and saw Roman and Rodriguez coming back.

Roman was not any random man to her. He was charming and passionate about what they were doing here. He was definitely talented but more importantly he was a hard worker. He tried harder than the others and put a lot more effort and time in the little practices they did. And other than that, she simply liked him. So, she took a leap of faith and nodded to Janus and shot the rest of them a look to keep their mouths shut about this.

Gratefully, Janus gave her a nod of acknowledgement before he turned towards Roman who walked towards him with a big smile.

“I assume, I will have to wait as you are hanging up your flyer?” Janus asked playfully and Roman shoved him softly.

“A flyer? What for?” Renee asked.

Roman turned towards the middle-aged woman. She was Celia’s friend and drove her here. Curiously she watched as Roman showed her the piece of paper he was going to hang up close to the door.

“Job application? You look for someone working in your store?”

Roman nodded and explained: “Yes! It’s going well and we could use a helping hand.”

Renee’s eyes wandered over the paper and she looked back up at him.

“This is a part-time job for a flower shop, do I see that right?”

“Yes. If you know someone who would be interested, please let them know! The payment and workload will be discussed in the interview with me and my brother, if you were wondering,” Roman explained as his tone got a little more serious.

Renee nodded and studied the paper a little longer. The she glanced back up at him and scratched the side of her nose.

“I used to work in a flower boutique and my youngest is up to college now. I’ve got the time for a job to be honest but I’d like to know why you decided to hire now? You haven’t been open very long, not even a year, as I understand it. Why didn’t you hire someone from the beginning or do it later?”

Janus watched Roman’s expression grow serious. The others hadn’t seen him like that before. Even when he plays a serious character it has no resemblance with the person that was standing here in front of them now. This, Janus assumed, was businessman Roman. The Roman that was concerned with his and his brother’s survival and would do what it takes to get them through.

And suddenly it slipped. He grew softer again and looked sheepishly to the side before telling her patiently: “We are writing black numbers and have already established a number of returning customers. But it is getting a bit much since it requires both of us to work with little to no breaks. So, it is a decision for my and especially my brother’s mental health. If you are interested in the position, further information will be disclosed at the given time.”

Renee looked at him rather surprised. Roman simply cracked a grin and huffed, walking past her towards the entrance where he could hang up the ad.

“But do not apply if you’re not a hard worker! We won’t take you just because I know you and you have some free time to fill!” he called over his shoulder and Cecilia and a few others started to laugh while Renee didn’t look too amused about that comment.

Janus just looked after him and let his words from before go through his head. There had been something hanging around the twins and Janus hadn’t been able to point his finger on it. Now he had something to go off and when Roman and he told the others goodbye and drove back home, Janus took the chance to make sure he was assuming the right thing.

“I suppose that there would be a reason as why you wouldn’t tell me and you certainly don’t have to now, but did something happen with Remus and you that you are doing this for your mental health?” Janus asked as they stopped at a red light.

Finger tapping. Roman’s fingers were tapping on the wheel and his eyes directed to the street while he occasionally glanced to the rear mirrors. He pressed down the gas pedal as the red light went green and Janus assumed that this was the end of the conversation. But as the had left the crossroad, Roman cleared his throat and Janus turned to look at him.

“Rem’s going to a therapist every Thursday. He scheduled it himself, made all the calls. I only learnt about it when he asked me if he could leave earlier to go to the meeting. He isn’t super comfortable to tell everyone that he is going, which is why we hadn’t said anything yet. So, please don’t tell Virgil or Logan.”

Janus faltered. He hadn’t expected that. He hadn’t expected to see Remus going through with it. Not that he didn’t want he to get better but the possibility of Remus actually trying to do some work on his mental health had seemed so impossible in his mind.

“Is the silence a sign of disbelief?” Roman asked with a grin.

With a fake cough Janus tried to regain his composure.

“I wouldn’t say disbelief...”

“It’s fine. Quite frankly-” Roman paused as they stopped at another red-light and looked to Janus with such a unbelieving and yet relieved expression – “I’d had lost hope a good while ago. For him truly getting better. Parts of my head already trying to accommodate myself to a life where he no longer would be. Not that I think I could live a life without him but – Well. Now he’s trying and I think it’s worth to try and believe in him.”

Janus was left speechless. Roman was a lot of things; brave, enthusiastic, idealistic, hot-headed and a hard worker. He was not a quitter. He was not a guy like Janus who gave up when he realized something would get too complicated or too hard.

But maybe that thought wasn’t quite fair to Roman. Because Roman was human. He had lived a rather eventful and traumatizing life; he had fought his way up to this very moment but how often had he fallen back? How often did he fail at the things he deemed too important to fail at? Even the hardest optimist had their limits. And Roman had almost lost his brother four times now. The only thing that he had been able to rely on for so long. And Roman had just told him something that Remus had explicitly told Roman not to tell other people.

“Why did you tell me?” Janus asked as they reached their destination and Roman had parked his car.

Roman turned and looked at him while unbuckling his seatbelt. He met Janus’s gaze and paused in his movements for a minute.

“I am scared too. Not only him. This feels like a last chance and it’s nagging on my brain. I needed to tell someone who isn’t him or Pat. And so, I told you. Because I trust you.”

Janus just stared into Roman’s dark brown eyes. He wasn’t sure if he was still breathing or if he had stopped but in this moment he didn’t care. He couldn’t care. All his mind was telling him in this moment was that he was looking at Roman, who trusted him and that he was entirely uncertain as of why he did trust him.

“I don’t understand,” Janus said with a dry mouth. “I - I acted inconsiderately after Remus’s attempt. I was not helpful to you in that moment when you needed me most and-”

“That was this evening. That one evening. And yeah, it was a big thing but it was big for us all. Stressful for us all. And you have your story and baggage too. I cannot expect of you to act perfectly in that situation. And I don’t. Not when you excelled in every moment after. You were kind and understanding and I appreciate it a lot. You let me hold your hand. You came for me and it’s been a while since anyone came just for me.”

Nothing terrible should happen to Roman ever again. No one should ever hurt him again. He should never be in danger again. And Janus would do whatever was in his power to secure that he decided in that very moment, as he looked into Roman’s eyes and just gave a nod before he got out of the car.

They parted ways. Janus got ready for the set in James’ bar and after he had played for the night, he sat down to the gang’s usual table. Listened to Logan talk with Roman over classic literature, greeted Virgil when he joined them later on and made sure to keep an eye on Roman for the whole evening.

___

Virgil and Janus had decided to have a movie night this Saturday evening and Janus was now in the kitchen getting the second batch of chips during one of the cheaper vampire movies he had ever seen in his life. And due to his nephews love of such movies, he had seen a fair share of them.

Whistling a tune Janus checked his phone and to his dismay found another message of Juno. She had been on his case for the last few days and normally he had little problem to blend her badgering out, but not when it was about this. He sighed, pushed the message away and got back to Virgil in the living room. Unceremoniously, he flicked the light switch on and got Virgil’s attention.

With a frown Virgil looked over and as Janus waved with his phone, while putting the chips bowl down on their coffee table, he had a hunch what was going on.

“Did Mom write you about something?” Virgil asked and pulled his legs onto the couch to hug them against his chest.

Janus clicked his tongue and put his hand next to the bowl before he bitterly smirked to Virgil.

“I get that she’s your Mom and that she worries and that you talk with her about stuff that weighs you down,” Janus began in the calmest voice he could muster. “But did you really have to talk with her about what happened to the twins? She’s bugging me about it since you did and asks regularly if something else happened and if it worries you or makes you sick.”

Virgil’s expression darkened the more Janus spoke and when he had finished Virgil pressed his face against his knees and groaned in agony.

“I told her not to freak out! I really said that I’m fine, uncle J! I – I just- I’m sorry she’s giving you a hard time! I just wanted to talk with her about – about you know? We almost lost Remus and we had no idea! It – it-” Virgil tried to explain but couldn’t quite finish.

Sighing Janus moved closer to his nephew and put his hand on his knee, drawing little circles on it.

“I get it, chief. I do. It’s a heavy load those two brought with them. And you were brave enough to still choose to interact with them, while I shied away from it at first. I’m just annoyed by her, you know. She always dots you and she really isn’t talking nicely about neither Roman nor Remus even though neither is responsible for all of that. She cannot see that though and maybe you could try and not mention them too much to her for the moment? Just so I could get a little peace of mind for now?”

“Yeah, sure… I’m sorry about her. She always makes it hard on you, even though you’re not responsible for me.”

Janus smiled and Virgil looked up again and rested his chin on his knees.

“You’re her only baby. She’s worried,” Janus replied and ruffled through his hair with a fond grin. “Not everyone has the best son on earth, you know.”

“Oh, shut up!” Virgil squealed and hid his head again by pressing it against his knees.

Janus snickered and put the movie back on to get Virgil out of hiding. It worked and the two continued watching the movie in silence. Virgil ended up huddling against Janus’s side and he kept “stealing” chips from his bowl even though Janus had it brought for the two of them.

“Are you worried about her disliking Roman?”

Janus looked over to Virgil with a frown. His nephew smirked a little and continued: “Because she might give you shit once you’re together with him?”

Groaning Janus shoved Virgil to the side and listened him giggle at his theatrics just to shove him back into the upper arm. Janus bickered for a moment to which Virgil only rolled his eyes and eventually flicked his arm again, so Janus would stop.

“Listen,” Virgil said as Janus rubbed his arm in pretended pain, “it’s fine that you like him.”

“I do not.”

“Yes, you do and don’t interrupt me. He’s a sweet guy. And you keep insisting that he doesn’t need a relationship now but you shouldn’t decide for him if that’s the case. He should get a say in it too. I mean like, if I shouldn’t get doted on, he shouldn’t either, am I right?”

Janus said nothing to that and Virgil knew that he had one this argument. He settled down again and they kept watching the end of the movie before putting in Mary Poppins after Janus’s request.

___

@varthandi

@sammy-is-obsessed / @exhaustedfander

@alexisrealgay

@softie-sushi

@wolfs-feder

@just-a-neoclassical-painting

@winter-jay-official

@a-ghostlight-for-roman

@mychemically-imbalanced-romance

@whattheremus

Tagged for this fic:

@frawkeye

@arodynamic-enby

@espepspes

@bullet-tothefeels

@fukindork

@shadeofadye

@magic-but-its-green

@a-non-binary-pan

@simone-the-weird-person

[melwritesbadly]

With Wings in All Black

After a tragic turn of events,  Kazama Kaori , AKA Hex, has her  investigation swept out from under her by the #2 Pro Hero. Reluctantly  she joins Hawks in the pursuit of justice. On top of trying to solve the  biggest case of her career, Kaori is still a young woman struggling to  find her place in the world. Life is turned upside down as her  professional and personal lives start to blend.

Rating: T (subject to change)

Content Warnings: slight language, implied violence/death

________________________________________________________

‘Are you aware of the hour?’

                       ‘As if you were sleeping. ANYWAY, I’ve got another one for you!’

‘We’ve discussed your cryptic messages, another one what?’

                         ‘Why another little bird for the nest. I think you’ll like her.’

‘Somehow I doubt that.’

__________

Two for Some Luck

Hex decided to take the 20 minute walk back to her apartment rather than the much shorter flight. It was thankfully peaceful. No assaults, no muggings, just bustling city life despite the late hour.

She thought about her next steps and her current situation. Despite her perceived annoyance she was grateful for the help. She just hated that it cost Kenji’s life to get it, and that was not ok with her…

So why now, after weeks of posting to the Hero Network? And why him. When now, in all honesty, it seemed like a case for the police.

Pro Heroes usually didn’t investigate murders, at least not top charters like Hawks.

Heroes like Hawks were better suited for grandiose villains, not the everyday kind of monsters. That’s what the underground was for.

Because people like Kenji’s mother didn’t get happy endings, no heroic flourish at the end of it all. No triumph. Only grief.

Hex couldn’t protect her from that, just like she couldn’t protect Kenji, and she is no closer to helping all the other missing people either.

Some Hero she was…

The walk was not as calming as she hoped as her mind swirled with guilt and more questions she was not going to find the answers to, at least not that night. Instead she decided on a shower and hopefully a few hours of sleep before she went with the police to the Takei house…then to wherever Hawks decided to meet with her.

From the front of her building Hex could see the light on in her apartment.

Mayu must have got home early from the bar.

Soon her key was slipping into the lock and opening the door to her small shared apartment.

Kaori didn’t have much in the way of money when she left her father’s agency. Without an agency supporting you, hero work did not pay well, if at all. The odd jobs she took around the station were barely enough to cover her portion of the rent and her groceries but bless Mayu. Her roommate didn’t complain when her payments were late or if she had to pick up some extra costs. Her new job at the swankiest Hero club in the city paid big bucks and Mayu was a generous young woman.

“Kaori?” her roommate called from behind the closed bathroom door.

“Yeah, it’s me Yu.” her voice tired as she called back to the other woman.

“You’re early!” a muffled gasp “Bad night?”

“You have no idea…What are you doing in there?” Kaori kicked off her shoes and placed her black coat on the simple rack Mayu kept her various jackets and purses on.

“Oh you know, having another identity crisis”

“Are you dying your hair again?” Kaori asked sitting on the small but comfy couch Mayu had ‘acquired’ during her brief stay at University.

Stretching out along it Kaori pulled one of the colorful throw pillows over her face and briefly contemplated screaming into it.

She heard the door to the bathroom open followed by the barest hints of hair dye and floral shampoo that snuck under the decorative square.

Mayu lifted Kaori’s legs high enough to wiggle under them, setting them back down over her lap.

“What’s wrong pretty bird?” Mayu asked in her sweet voice then gasped “Wait don’t tell me-” she reached for one of Kaori’s hands and held it in her own.

[Glimmers of hope, new links on a chain, soft, red, light as a feather]

“You met someone!” Mayu gasped.

“You know I don’t like it when you use your quirk on me.” Kaori’s voice muffled through the pillow and wiggled her hand free from her friends.

“Sorry PB, you know I can’t help myself. Anyway back to the matter. You met someone!”

“It’s not like that. It’s work stuff” Kaori finally pulled the pillow from her face holding it to her chest instead.

Mayu’s head was wrapped in a ratty dye stained towel. Her round face and large blue eyes made her seem like one of those painted cherubs.

“What color this time?” trying to redirect the conversation away from herself.

“Baby blue to match my other baby blues” she clasped her hand and fluttered her lashes for effect. “And what do you mean work stuff?! Didn’t feel like work stuff.” she prodded, tickling her fingers along her friend’s shins.

“Yu” a sigh “I don’t want to talk about it right now. It’s probably going to be on every tabloid by the end of the week anyway…”

Kaori pulled herself up and stood up from the couch and made her way to her bedroom forgoing the shower tonight and resigned herself to wake earlier while Mayu was sleeping to avoid further questioning or quirk prodding.

“Tabloids, what? What?! PB!”

“Too tired, going to bed.” Kaori ignored her roommate who had jumped from her spot and charged at her rapidly closing door.

Mayu drummed her hand along her door and whined.

“You never go out with anyone and now you tell me the media is involved. What did you dooooo?” she whined dramatically, scratching along the door.

Kaori stripped her dark clothes and slid out of her flight suit and brushed out her hair.

“It’s nothing Yu, just… let me sleep, I’ll talk to you in the morning.”  she paused  “Don’t touch my stuff!” knowing her roommate could use her quirk on inanimate objects too.

“No fun” came one final whine from Mayu who then admitted defeat, for now.

______

The next morning Mayu waited until Kaori had finished her breakfast and headed to the  bathroom to shower. On the kitchen table was a box filled with various pictures, notes, maps and other handwritten details. Mayu held one in her hand not so much reading it but feeling what that paper represented activating her quirk.

She felt the hopelessness, the frustrated exhaustion. The perseverance. Strings and connections winding and wrapping leading nowhere and everywhere.

‘I will save them’

Mayu pursed her lips and placed the paper back in the box.

If Kaori had taken down her pinboard was she giving up? No, there was no way. In the 2 years she had known her if someone needed help Kaori would help them. Hex would help them.

[New links in the chain, hope, feathers] she recalled from last night. Hmm, the first part was easy to decipher. It had to represent whoever Kaori had met, someone new. The chain could maybe mean she was trapped, which would explain why she was so gloomy last night. Hmm, hope and feathers…

As Mayu thought through the abstraction of her quirk she noticed the unfinished cup of coffee and Kaori’s phone which just emitted several pings indicating she had just received messages.

Mayu knew she shouldn’t look but…

It’s not like she was snooping through her phone (it has a passcode and she could not for the life of her crack it)

She would just- check her lock screen for the time and…

Mayu hit the button on the side lighting up the screen. Kaori didn’t have a custom  background, just whatever came default with the phone but it did show a preview of the texts she had just received. The sender’s name caused her to make a confused but amused face.

The nosy young woman was not paying attention and did not hear the shower switch off as she scanned over the small blurb of text. Mayu gave a startled jolt as Kaori swung open the bathroom door and came out in a towel. Kaori was equally shocked to see Mayu up.

“What are you doing?” Kaori asked, eyeing her roommate suspiciously.

Mayu hastily grabbed the used mug and brought it to the kitchen under the guise of washing it.

“Oh nothing, couldn’t really sleep so I figured i’d clean up a bit.” She was a terrible liar and knew it.

“Yu…” the tone of her voice was enough to make Mayu fidget.

“Err, well” Mayu scratched her nose then twisted the ends of her hair. The now blue hair is a little frazzled but fluffy from letting it air dry.   Kaori stood arms crossed waiting for her to continue.

“You see…” she reeled “I was…cleaning up,” she gestured to her the mug in her hand “and well your phone went off and I just happened to see the screen when I was leaning over and…” She spun the mug between her hands, a small smile sneaking onto her lips “Who’s ‘Unsolicited dick pics’”?”

Kaori blinked confused.

“What?”

“That’s who texted you- well that’s their name in your phone!” Mayu giggled.

“My phone?”

Who could possibly be named that Kaori thought. Then stopped when the obvious answer hit her, face falling with an un-amused expression. She shook her head and picked up her phone and flicked it on going to her message app to see the full message.

She replied,

Hawks’s response was immediate and Kaori shook her head setting her phone down.

Mayu was watching her expectantly.

“Well?”

“Well what?” Kaori crossed to her bedroom and closed the door enough for some privacy but enough to continue the conversation.

“Who’s dick pic guy?!” Mayu asked, leaning against the wall next to Kaori’s door. She heard Kaori click her tongue.

“He’s not ‘dick pic guy’. Just some smartass who thinks he’s cute.”

“Ah, so he’s cute now.”Mayu teased “Who is he! You said you’d tell me in the morning!”

From inside her room Kaori sighed adjusting her bodysuit making sure the fabric wasn’t bunched before slipping on the rest of her clothes.

“If I tell you, you can’t make a big deal because it is NOT a big deal and this is strictly for work. Pro Hero business”  A dressed Kaori- rather Hex stepped out and pointed a finger at Mayu.

“Super secret and super dangerous!”

Mayu blinked but nodded.

“I’m serious. It’s no big deal” now it was Mayu’s turn to roll her eyes.

“You keep saying that but It’s making me think it is a big deal. Now spill!”

Kaori breathed in and touched her fingers to each other in front of her face at the brim of her nose.

“Hawks” Mayu’s mouth dropped.

“What.”

“I’m not saying it again.”

“No I heard you, just- what, as in, WHAT? Isn’t he mega hot and like the number 2 hero.”

“Yup, that’s the one” Kaori grimaced, speaking through her teeth.

“So you finally agree that he’s hot?” cheeked Mayu recalling a tipsy conversation they had when the popularity ratings were last posted.

“Just because I’m a bird and he’s a bird doesn’t mean I automatically find him attractive.”

“Attractive you say” Yu tried to fish further casting her a lewd look raising her eyebrows suggestively.

“Stop.” Kaori moaned, annoyed reaching up to smooth over the feathers at the back of her neck. They tended to tense and puff up when flustered, or in this case, annoyed.

“He’s not my type- too flashy” This caused Mayu to scoff.

“So says miss ‘I’m black as night spooky-spooky bird lady!”

“I’m not flashy and I certainly don’t like the attention!” Kaori waved her hands to maybe try and physically dismiss the subject. “This is why I didn’t want to tell you. I’m late already, I need to go.” brushing past Mayu and started to pull on her gear.

“We will continue this conversation later young lady” Mayu mock scolded,wagging a finger at her, Kaori shook her head

“Yes mom… I’ll see you later Yu”

______

Hex met with two officers just outside of Takei’s apartment complex. They did not speak to her but offered her a curt nod before gesturing to her to go on ahead of them.

She had never done something like this. To tell someone that their loved one… had died. It wasn’t something Hero’s did. Hero’s swooped in, stopped the bad guys and swooped back out. In and out of people’s lives, never lingering, never personal…

She hesitated, knuckling inches above the door, letting out a tense breath but finally rapt her fist against the worn door.

A soft ‘just a moment’ was heard beyond.

It seemed like an eternity but finally the door swung open and Kenji’s tired mother was revealed.

“Oh Hex.” she said softly, almost surprised to see her at her doorstep. Mrs. Takei’s eyes drifted to the officers who stood formally behind the Pro Hero. She gave a sad, knowing nod.

“Please… come in.”

They had waited for Mrs. Takei to make herself a cup of tea and settle into a seated position before speaking.

“Mrs. Takei…” Hex paused trying to find the right words “Your son- Kenji” She looked down unable to meet the woman’s gaze.

“Kenji’s body was found last night.” Hex said softly. A sad sigh came from the older woman.

“I see…” was all the woman could muster, Hex saw a slight sad shine at the corner of her eyes.

Hex stood and bowed her head low.

“I promised you I would find your son and bring him back to you. I not only failed you. I failed him. I beg for your forgiveness.” the officers bowed as well.

“Oh, no, please.” Mrs. Takei sniffed “Kenji, my son, he died the moment he went missing, I could feel it in my heart. At least now…” she paused again to compose herself. “Now I can lay him to rest properly.”

“I’m so sorry you are going through this Mrs. Takei. If there is anything I can do?” Hex offered a soft and sympathetic look in her eyes.

“You’ve done more than anyone Hex, I’ll be ok.” She sipped her tea.

“I can do more, for Kenji, for the others. Us Hero’s are not giving up-I’m not giving up.” Hex leaned forward and took Mrs. Takei’s hands and spoke sincerely, meeting her eyes “I will get justice for Kenji and for you.” It was a sad but welcome comfort to the woman.

“I know you will Hex, thank you.” Mrs. Takei squeezed the younger woman’s hands and finally let a few tears slip out.

“These officers will help you as best they can with any questions you might have and you can call me anytime you like ok?”

Mrs. Takei nodded sniffing once more then released Hex’s hands and brushed away her tears.

“Before I leave, I wanted to ask you…” Pulling out her phone Hex opened the picture she snapped the previous night of the business card “Does this mean anything to you?” The older woman examined the picture but shook her head no.

Worth a shot.

______

After excusing herself and leaving the apartment Hex made a quick stop back at her apartment to gather her evidence, she loaded it into a knapsack snapping it to one of her buckles and took flight to the hotel just in time for lunch.

Here we go…

Taking a deep breath is Hex strode into the hotel lobby. A quick stop at the concierge pointed the way to one of the conference rooms on the upper floors. The elevator ride was spent admiring how ritzy the place was and how she would put forth her evidence without sounding like a conspiracy theorist.

The conference room had frosted glass preventing her from seeing anything but shadows.

Should she knock? No- Jeesh why was she so nervous?  She felt the feathers on her neck creep up. She shook her shoulders working out the jitter and opened the door.

An impressive spread of food was laid out on the long table. She felt all attention on her as 3 sets of eyes took immediate notice of her intrusion.

Duke Amazing had a mouth full of some sort of sandwich and lifted his bread in salut and continued to chew, a few crumbs in his mustache.

“Hey! It’s the star of the show!” Hawks called out.

He was kicked back in one of the executive chairs, legs propped up on the table and a can of some sort of energy drink in his hand. His other hand gestured to the projector screen at the front of the room showing videos of… well her.

The other person in the room sat next to Hawks upright and smartly dressed in fitting business attire. Her eyes meeting hers seemingly stared at something Hex could not see. Just at a glance she was certain this woman never smiled.

Hawks noted his manager’s dead eye stare and casually elbowed her causing the woman’s focus to drop and lose whatever it was she was looking at.

“This is June, the agency manager.” Hawks gestured to her then to the table “Take a seat, grab some grub, I think we’re getting to the good part.” he swiveled in his chair a bit, rocking himself side to side as he turned his attention back to the screen.

Hex placed her pack on the table and took a seat opposite to Duke.

“This data is old.” She commented idly picking through the food to find something she liked.

“Well,” the manager clicked a remote rewinding a certain part of the video and letting it play again “You’re about as underground as someone can go. The name Hex doesn’t even register on any hero chart. A nobody” she played the next bit in slow motion.

Every beat of her black wings taking up a frame. The familiar motions slowly rolling through her shoulders and hips as the Hex on screen slowly spun and let loose several pointed feathers as projectiles into the villain on screen sending them back and into a wall subdued. June rewound it and played it in real time, the motion as fast as a blink.

“However…” fast forwarding again and video Hex zoomed along the screen, and two other figures joined her. June paused it. Hex frowned as she started at the on screen version of herself.

“Aello,” the picture zoomed in on the blond in the middle. She fluttered in the air, quirk similar to Hex’s but her wings were white and blue.

“ Ocypete” June zoomed in on the other fair haired winged woman on screen. Her wings were green with sparse flecks of black.

“Finally, Celaeno.” June zoomed one final time, this time on Hex. Her jet black wings a stark contrast to the white and green of her partners. Her dark hair is also in conflict with their uniform blond-ness.

Hex did not speak and only stared at her past self posed perfectly behind her flashier partners. Their costumes matched in every way but color. Blue, green, and black. The black of her suit  and her headgear were the only thing she had retained from this past persona.

The only thing worth keeping

Hex though as she eyed her past smile and eyes, perfect for the camera. Remembering how she had felt presenting herself that way.

“The Harpy Sisters- affiliated with King Crow Agency. Currently holding the number 112th slot on the boards despite missing a member.” She let the footage roll again switching to ground combat.

“Celaeno’s such a pretty name.” June mused more to herself then resumed speaking to the room “Still you’re very on brand for this agency.”

Take your brand and stuff it. Is what Hax wanted to say but felt that was a bit unprofessional. But still wanted to make sure the manager understood her stance on the matter.

“I told Hawks last night I don’t do agencies” Hex shoved a bunch of chips into her mouth making a point to crunch loudly.

“Well, as much as it is his agency. I handle all the logistics. And I’m telling you,” she paused folding her hand neatly on the table “We don’t ‘do’ Freelancers and since you don’t ‘do’ agencies  we can’t ‘do’ a team up.” using the same tone to match Hex’s.

“And why not?” Hex questioned trying her best to not let her tone get too uneven “You said yourself I’m nobody. You have nothing to gain by trying to brand me- no one cares. No one cared that I left King Crow, and no one cares now.”

June tutted and had a constrained grimace on her face.

“True no one gives a damn about you Hex. But people care about Hawks. And it’s my job to protect his image so people continue to care about him. I know things are different working underground but topside? This is his world.” She gestures to hawks who simply shrugs “He’s the number 2 hero. Society chose him to be their hero- whoever is represented by his agency is a reflection on him. If we have ‘nobodies’ skulking around his agency it could make a bad impression”

Hex stood abruptly and walked towards the other end of the table.

“June, look now what you’ve done. Scared the poor girl off.” Commented Duke finally brushing his face free of crumbs.

Instead of leaving, Hex grabbed her bag and stomped to where June and Hawks were sitting. Locking eyes with the woman, Hex undid the fastening and dumped the contents out on the desk before her creating a mess.

“This is what I think of your stupid charts and pretty pictures of Hero’s.” quickly rifling through the paper and pulling out the pictures.

“ Taichi Mizo, missing 6 weeks. Ochiro Honda, missing 4 weeks, Ben Darma missing 7 months.”

Hex listed about a dozen people holding a picture to correspond to the names.

“I have been begging for help for weeks on the HN. For one of your ‘top charters’ to notice. To do something about this. But no.” she tossed the pictures on the pile “You were too busy posing for pictures, and worrying about what others think about Hero’s rather than being an actual Hero. Then you get caught with your pants around your ankles. Go “Woops, my bad.”

“I think you’ve made your point”

“Have I?” Hex huffed “Someone died because the only person who cared was me and I was too much of a nobody to help. Then you come at me and tell me how to do things when I’m the only person who’s done anything to try and fix this problem!” The room was awkwardly silent. Hex felt puffed up but resisted the urge to press down her neck and stood firm eyes never leaving June’s.

Duke stood silently and tip-toed out the room, an extra sandwich and bag of chips in his hand closing the door with a soft click.

“Well, that was intense!” Hawks tried to break the tension taking a loud sip from his can. Hex sighed in frustration and began collecting her papers.

So much for being cool.

“Listen, Hex. It’s bullshit, it’s all bullshit.” Hawks started fiddling with the tab of the can “The glitter, the glory. You’re right, we’re caught pants down, dick out-”

“Language” chided June causing Hawks to gesture towards her.

“See what I mean I can’t even tell it how it is without getting my wrists slapped.” June swatts his hand away “Anyway. I asked you to help. I want you to help. Because you care. I admit I have to drink the kool-aid every now and then but that’s the price we pay as Hero’s. The trick is not to chug.” He sips at his own drink “A sip here, a sip there and even bullshit is bearable if it means I can be the Hero I want to be. Now you said last night you needed resources. If it’s one thing this kool-aid man has is resources.” Hex tutted and  finally smoothed down her neck.

“So It comes down to ends and means huh?”

“Seems so Chickadee”

She placed her hand on her hips and looked up and let out a deep breath.

“Fine then. Limited term contract- my previous conditions still stand. Full access and availability to this case.”

“Very good, a 12 month term with the agency.”

“6 months and I retain and manage my own promotional material” It was June’s turn to tutt.

“Unacceptable, the agency manages any and all images associated with the Hero’s under its employ. 9 months with lodgings.”

“I like my apartment, commuting isn’t so bad. 6 months and I can Veto any publicity I deem unnecessary.”

“8 months and you get 1 veto.”

“8 months and I get 2 vetoes” Hex stood firm and crossed her arms.

“8 months, you get 1 veto, and you get to retain your costume and persona. Even though Celaeno would be better branding for the agency.”

June pulled out a pen and pulled out a folder that was buried under the mess of papers Hex had dumped out.

“8 months, 1 Veto, Hex stays and you,” she pointed at Hawks, “no longer call me Chickadee.” It was his turn to tut resuming his twisting in his chair.

“Ah, there is no way I could sign off on a ‘no Chickadee’ clause in your contract Chickadee. Then I’d have to think of a new nickname for you and frankly that’d be too much work.”

“Worth a shot.” She nodded “Ok, deal”

“Fantastic, welcome aboard Hex.”

June quickly filled out the form then handed it along with a sort of stamp to Hawks. He didn’t bother looking over the contract and simply put his stamp to where it needed to be signed then  used a feather to move the contract over to Hex letting it hover until she grabbed it. Once she did he made the feather do a lap around her prompting her swat it away like a fly. Pleased with her annoyance he recalled it and it zoomed back into place among his other vibrant plumage.

She read through its entirety making sure the agreed upon terms were fairly stated. Those stale management courses she took finally came in handy it seemed.

She was as satisfied as she was going to be given the situation and put a pen to the paper.

“Bottoms up Kool-aid man” she said and signed her hero credentials

“Cheers” chimed Hawks cracking open another can.

______

End Notes: I hope you guys are liking this so far. Sorry if it seems a little slow right now.  Chapter 3 is almost done, and four has some agency fun. Also the text parts might seem a little weird since I’m on android and there is no good social dummy app to make fake texts. Anyway, I’m planning to do little fun half parts in between the larger chapters to give myself some time to work on the next parts so looks for that next week.

Thank you!

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Side Effects ch.1 (baon)

Summary: In the aftermath of from the events in 'Internal Disputes' and 'Bedside Stories', the fallout has an effect on everyone and they all have their own issues to deal with.

Tags:  Spicyhoney, Kustard, Established Relationships, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Fluff

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

~~*~~

Read it on AO3

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

Waking up alone was not unusual in the scheme of things. That was most days and even on weekends the bed next to Stretch would usually be empty by the time he was ready to roll out for the day. Which wasn’t to say he’d never been awakened early by an amorous and handsy Edge, ready for a different kind of wakeup call, but Stretch tended to fall back asleep afterward. In his humble opinion, it wasn’t worth getting out of bed until there was some form of light outside and that was a fact that Stretch was willing to stand by, with plenty of Twitter polls on his side.

So when he reached out sleepily to sweep a hand over the sheets, he wasn’t exactly surprised when the only thing that greeted his touch was 1000-thread count sheets. A little disappointed, yeah, a smidge grouchy, absolutely, but definitely not surprised.

Stretch sighed and rolled over to give the ceiling fan a good stare. It only stayed in place innocently, the fan blades not pausing one whit at his mood. Which, to be fair, Stretch wasn’t exactly sure he could even classify his current mood; right now it was more a jambalaya than any single ingredient. What a week.

After the kitchen crisis, once Edge got his fill of groping Stretch’s soul, they’d gone upstairs, Stretch helping Edge to hop along for once rather than gathering up his crutches. That’d been a comedy of errors right there, they’d probably looked like some kind of tortured three-legged race, hobbling along. They’d gone right to bed, do not pass go, skip the two-hundred, and lain there wrapped around each other, Edge still petting his sternum even though his soul was no longer visible. Stretch really had no idea when he’d fallen asleep or when Edge crept out of bed, but it must’ve been a fun trip downstairs without his crutches. Hopefully not a literal one.

Stretch gave up on his contemplation of the ceiling fan to glance at his phone. The time made him blink. After using so much magic to heal Red, he’d been expecting to sleep in ‘til noon before guiltily creeping out to feed the ladies. But unless he’d accidentally changed the time zone, it was only nine o’clock. Huh. Magic drain was exhausting and he hadn’t eaten so much as a piece of burnt toast afterward and yet, he didn’t feel tired. Honestly, he almost felt energized, ready to get up and face the day.

Was this how Edge always felt in the morning? That was kind of terrifying. No wonder only half of the brotherly teams got to be energetic, hell, just thinking about Red waking up with his battery fully charged was giving him the creeps, he’d probably try to take over the world.

Thinking of that little pain-in-the-ass goblin made him wince. He really hoped Red was doing okay. There were no text messages waiting for him, but maybe Edge knew.

Welp, may as well get up and go find out. Maybe they’d be going on with the shitty continuation of opposite week, where he got to be the protective one, Edge got to lay around all day, and both of them would be a lot happier when things got back to normal.

The bedroom was a little chilly outside the toasty warm blankets, enough that he scrambled over to where his bathrobe was hung on the back of the bedroom door. Stretch slipped it on over his bare bones. Real clothes could come after coffee. He opened the door and that was when he heard muffled voices that were definitely not from the television. Kinda early for reasonable visitors and Stretch tightened the belt on his bathrobe, no point in giving a free show, and peered downstairs to see what sort of nefarious characters decided to drop by this time.

Honestly, they needed one of those prohibited door signs, except they could cross off ‘solicitors’ and write in ‘drama’. Stretch had pretty much had his fill of that sort of excitement, thanks.

But nefarious probably wasn’t the best way to describe the bright-eyed and bushy-tailed Monsters who were standing at their kitchen door with Edge. Familiar Monsters, actually, Stretch thought they worked at the Embassy. In their hands were mops and carriers loaded with cleaning supplies. Their pointed ears swiveled in his direction and they looked up in unison, both giving him a wave as they went into the kitchen, although what the hell that wary look was for, he wasn’t sure. Usually he wasn’t considered the scary skeleton in the closet in this relationship.

Usually.

Edge was leaning on his crutches and as soon as Stretch got a good look, relief flooded his soul. He was looking pretty bright-eyed himself even minus the tail, and his smile was warm.

“Good morning, love.” Edge called up. There was no sign left of his near-breakdown the night before, so maybe a snuggly night’s sleep did him some good. Firmly competent looked like the phrase of the day and Stretch was down with that, he really was.

30 seconds on the stairs seemed like a criminal waste of time this morning and Stretch shortcutted down instead, very nearly right on top of Edge. He happily ignored his husband’s exasperated sigh, stealing a kiss before he murmured, “mornin’. what’s going on?”

Not that he couldn’t guess, they probably weren’t using the mops to whip up a five-course meal.

Once Edge was finished shaking his head in fond resignation over unnecessary teleportation, he pulled him close, trying to work out a way to hold him around the crutches. It took him a minute to whomp up a strategy that let him lean a little weight on Stretch, the rest on a carefully balanced crutch, and none at all on his casted foot, and only then did Edge offer up a lingering return kiss of his own.

By the time, he drew back, Stretch almost forgot his own question and Edge’s satisfied smirk meant he knew it, even as he said, “Sans sent a team over to check on our kitchen. What’s left of it. He explained to them about how the experiment you were doing went wrong and they’re going to handle the mess. I’m sure he would have brought them himself, but Red is still sleeping off that hangover.”

Coded message received, Red was doing okay. But it was the previous little tidbit that cut through his relief and brought his thoughts to a screeching halt. His mouth dropped open, excuse me, his experiment? And he couldn’t say a damn thing, not with those guys working in the kitchen with the satellite dishes they had for ears all prepped to listen in on some sweet gossip. All he could do was glare at Edge, whose eye lights glittered with obvious amusement.

Dude, not cool. That was going to be all over the Embassy and probably topple the whole ‘showing up naked in a sheet’ as his highest rated fiasco. What a dick move, he liked to come up with his own disasters, thanks, he didn’t need help. Except, of the two of them, people would buy him blowing up the kitchen over Edge at about a thousand to one ratio. Which was probably why Sans came up with that scenario to begin with.

Stretch sighed. Welp, the cover story was out there and now they had to roll with it. Yeah, okay, he could take one for the team, but if he was taking the heat for this, it better have a reward, sexual favors preferred, and not from Sans, either.

He and Edge could discuss a payment plan later.

“that was very nice of sans,” Stretch gritted out. He jerked his head towards the kitchen. “are they even going to be able to clean it all up?”

“Possibly, but I’m not going to try.” Edge gave him another light kiss around his scowl, then let go and headed for the sofa. His small groan of relief as he put his foot up was a pretty damn big clue that he’d probably been standing too long. “I’ve decided with the amount of damage, I’d like to do a full remodel, instead.”

“yeah?” He knelt down to help Edge get his casted foot settled on the pillows. Most of the red paint on it was cleared away, leaving the drawings and signatures underneath tinted pink but it didn’t look too bad. Which meant Edge was probably up way too early if he’d gotten that cleaned up, the brat.

But back on subject before his brain train rattled off the wrong way. Huh, kitchen remodel. Edge had been living here for a few years before Stretch, and the kitchen was definitely his personal territory so if he wanted a makeover, totally his choice. To be honest, he’d sort of expected Edge to be distraught over his kitchen, but right now, he seemed pretty damn serene.

“i mean, yeah, you should. treat yourself.” He gave Edge a sour look, adding dryly, “not like i can complain, since i did ruin your kitchen and all. with my ‘experiments’.” Since their cleaning crew could hear but not see, he went ahead and gave it the whole finger quotes treatment. Probably needed to get Sans to give him the details about ‘the wreckening’, unless his plan was to go all ‘we don’t talk about science club’ with it.

A gloved hand smoothed over his skull, ripe with silent apology. Stretch leaned into it and let it mollify him, for now. “Today they’re only handling basic cleaning up. I’ll contact the building team and see when they’ll be available, and we can work out a plan. Did you want to help me pick out new tile?”

Uh. About as much as he wanted to install a few chalkboards around the house and give ‘em a good scratch whenever he walked by.

Edge must’ve read that off his face like a headline, because his mouth curved in faint amusement. “Then I’d like to ask a favor.”

“anything.” Seriously, picking out tile with Edge sounded as entertaining as weekend plans to watch paint dry. No pun intended.

“Someday, I will teach you all to ask for terms before agreeing so readily,” Edge murmured, almost to himself, then louder, “I have a couple pairs of trousers that I’d like you to take into the tailor for alterations. I’ve already spoken to them and given them measurements, but I need for the pant leg to fit around my cast for when I go back to work next week. I’m afraid my current attire doesn’t exactly fit with dress code.”

Edge looked down at himself in distaste and Stretch had to agree; it’d been pretty weird to see Edge lounging around in shorts all week long. Not that Stretch was complaining, he was fine with bare bones, even put up a good argument for it, which Edge successfully disputed with a firm ‘no’. Of course, he’d paired those shorts with plain t-shirts, no sweaters or button-ups even if he was chilly, because Angel forbid he doesn’t match, seriously, Edge might lose his membership to ‘Sharp Dressed Monthly’. But yeah, if he went into the Embassy dressed like that, they might arrest him as like, a spy or a clone or something.

“yeah, you gotta follow dress code. you don’t want janice to have to punish you for being a bad boy,” Stretch said, slyly, just to see if he could get Edge’s socket to twitch. “that’s my job.”

Edge ignored that because he was boring that way. “A sense of normalcy would be much appreciated as well.”

That had a certain weariness layered beneath it and Stretch tossed his playfulness on a mental shelf for later use. He settled a hand over Edge’s gloved one, squeezing gently as he asked softly, “babe? you okay?”

“Yes. I’m fine.” His firm tone of voice was pretty convincing, but, maybe he wasn’t quite as okay as he seemed? Hard to tell and there was no way Edge wasn’t going to put up a good front with anyone else in the house. “I did want to ask, have you considered allowing me to speak with your therapist for my assessment? I’m not trying to rush you, there’s plenty of time, I’m only working on planning out my week.”

“i--” Stretch sank back on his heels, swallowing hard. He hadn’t considered it, honestly, he’d mostly forgotten about it with everything else going on.

He wasn’t quite sure how he felt about it, but it made his soul feel weirdly tight and itchy. If Edge spoke to his therapist, she’d be talking to him knowing all the things Stretch had told her in confidence, all the things he hadn’t even been able to speak of to Edge. Those were the sessions he was speaking more to the carpet than his therapist, but it was still a relief to get it out, lancing mental wounds he’d had for so long he barely noticed the pain anymore. But, so what, did he really think she’d be blabbing it to Edge? Her experiences with him and Sans probably made her the most qualified Human on the planet to help Edge through any problems or trauma. She’d take good care of him, and suddenly the choice was an easy one.

He reached out and cupped Edge’s face in his hand, fingertips grazing the crack through his socket. “you know what, yeah. call her. i trust you both.”

“Thank you,” Edge told him with quiet sincerity. He took Stretch’s hand in both his own, drawing it over to press a light kiss against his knuckles. “For trusting me.” Then he promptly betrayed it by shifted his grip to Stretch’s wrist and pulled, toppling him into his lap. He yelped, trying to keep most of his weight off Edge before he hurt his fool self, but it was useless with Mister Grabby Hands holding on tight. “And I’m sorry, what was that about me being a bad boy? I think you’re the one who gets into the most trouble in this relationship, hmmm?”

“you’d think, but i ain’t the one with a broken foot...edge!” He squealed a laugh as Edge gave him a poke in the ribs, right where he was most ticklish. He let up for a second, letting Stretch catch his breath, only to double down, tickling madly while Stretch squirmed and shrieked. One leg kicked out without his permission, narrowly missing a lamp on the side table, and Stretch gasped out through laughter, “stop! haven’t we broken enough lately?”

Before Edge could offer his opinion on that, heck, maybe he was hoping to remodel the living room, too, the kitchen door swung open and two burly Monsters bustled on out, mops in hand and just in time to catch a front row seat.

“Okay, so we’ve got the worst of--whoops, sorry!”

The tall guy took an instinctive step back, right into the shorter one, who hastily turned to try getting out of the way. Only he forgot about the mop in his hands, and it turned with him, smacking his companion in the face with a wet slap. That sent his buddy reeling, swinging around to give the mop treatment right back.

While they were working on their Stooges impression, Stretch hastily scrambled out of Edge’s lap to his feet, barely avoiding the fingertips that tried to snag onto him again, not this time, brat. That didn’t stop the heat of a blush scalding across his cheek bones as he yanked his robe down modestly, yeah, there was more gossip for the Embassy, if Tall Boy and The Short One ever stopped sputtering through their facefuls of dirty mop.

A glance at Edge didn’t help, either, his face was schooled to calmness already, not even cracking a smile at the comedy gold in front of him. How was it he managed to look cool and professional with one foot in a cast and gym shorts? He probably didn’t even need to modify his trousers, one sharp look would shut any complainers right up. Even his damn t-shirt looked freshly ironed. Meanwhile, Stretch was feeling kinda sweaty and unwashed in his bathrobe, and he hadn’t even had coffee yet. A mop in the face might even feel refreshing right about now, but that seemed like a thought best kept to himself.

“Thank you for your help,” Edge said evenly, sitting as regal as a King on his…uh…sofa. The two Stooges paused, and the power of Edge’s gaze seemed like enough to straighten them out, both of them turning back to Edge, nodding and smiling.

“Hey, no problem!” Tall Boy said heartily. “Anything to help out you and Sans.”

“Yeah, no problem, anything to help out,” The Short One agreed. “If you have any other...erm...” He slanted a knowing look at Stretch, like he hadn’t been re-enacting an entire slapstick routine two minutes ago right in their living room, “…experiment issues, give us a call.”

”oh, i sure will,” Stretch muttered darkly. “for all my ‘experiment issue’ needs.” He stalked over to the front door and held it open, forcing a smile, “but thanks guys, really appreciate it.”

Took a few more head bobs, but eventual Stretch managed to herd them out the door, mops and all. When he turned back to Edge, his head was dropped back against the sofa, his sockets closed. That stoic mask faded back a bit, leaving behind weariness.

Yeeeah, that disguise was slipping more by the minute. Stretch sat back down next to him. “babe, are you sure you’re okay? lotta shit went down yesterday.”

Edge opened his sockets and offered him a faint smile. “Yes.” He reached out and ran his thumb gently across Stretch’s cheek bone. “I’m only a little tired.” His smile turned wry. “I can guess some of what you’re thinking, you know. Yesterday was difficult, and yes, my kitchen is important to me. But I’ve been very recently reminded that nothing is as important as the people in my life. You’re safe, my brother is safe. Your brother, Sans, Papyrus, Jeff and Antwan. Everyone I care about is safe. It’s something to be grateful for, isn’t it?”

“yeah, it is,” Stretch agreed slowly. It was, but it didn’t mean Edge could turn off his emotions about it like a water spigot or even that he should. Maybe it was a good thing Edge was gonna be talking to his therapist; if nothing else, she was damn talented at finding the X marks the spot to dig at. Stretch knew that from personal, and painful, experience. “we’ll get the kitchen taken care of, so long as no one gives those two hammers.”

“Cleaning duty is probably better for everyone involved,” Edge agreed.

Understatement. “it’ll take me a little while in town, why don’t you take a nap while i’m gone?”

It was mostly a rhetorical question, so he was surprised when Edge nodded. “I will, love. And I won’t touch any work until you get back.”

Good enough.

By the time he fed the chickens, got dressed, and headed back downstairs, Edge was already asleep, his foot propped on the sofa arm and the rest of him hidden beneath the fluffy blanket from the back of the couch. That was good, let him rest, let him find his balance again. Tempting as it was to straightened the blanket or give that much-loved skull a pat, Stretch kept his hands to himself. Better not to take the chance of startling him, Toriel wouldn’t be happy if he voided her warranty, but damn if he didn’t want to.

For all his doubts, the Stooges actually did a pretty good job of cleaning up the kitchen. The remains of the table were cleared away and so was the worst of the paint. Stretch poured himself a travel mug of coffee before heading out to the bus stop, garment bag in hand.

A stop at the tailors to get his baby some real pants would help him get back in the direction of the normal Edge was craving. He hoped. Looked like Opposite Week wasn’t quite finished yet but that was okay. Stretch didn’t mind getting to be the protector, for once.

-fin

[bartsfrogprince]

@writing-prompt-s

The king has asked you to take care of two dragons nearby. But it turns out they are retired, and just want to live a simple stress-free life.

---

Posting on request for @learningtoacceptchange and @quonit. Barely proofread. Sorries. 

But … I mean, like, why??? I really have no idea why King Roderick thought these two dragons in particular needed to be taken care of rather than just killed like the others. He could just dispatch an experienced knight to get rid of them and we could all get on with life. I suppose it’s not as though he needs my approval, or permission, or y’know - comprehension of the task I’ve been given. But, whatever, fine. Fine. I can take care of dragons. They’re just massive, marauding, murdering beasts. It’ll be fine.

Can’t be all that different than the castle dogs right? That’s what I usually did - tended to the dogs. I mean, not the hunting dogs. They needed training and keeping up with all that was just beyond me. The unclaimed mutts, ratters, and other various strays needed to be kept out the way though and I was good enough at that. Usually. I mean, what happened this morning wasn’t my fault. How was I to know the gerbils belonged to the princess daughter of a visiting queen? Okay, looking back, they were very nicely kept, clean rodents. But they were still rodents and letting the small dogs who were interested in that sort of thing into the room seemed like... well, precisely what I was supposed to do? I think?

Really, there’s no way I could’ve known she’d be bitten trying to save the little wastes of space. Who wants extra rodents around!? I mean, aren’t there enough rats and mice and voles and all the others without, like, intentionally introducing more of the things? But, princess plus dog bite plus me being blamed wasn’t something I wanted to happen. And apparently the king had taken that into account as, instead of being tossed into the dungeon, I’d been given a task away from the castle to give everyone some breathing space. Good thing he was having an understanding sort of day.

I’d never killed or even fought a dragon before. They’d show up every few years and one warrior or another would be sent to kill them. They usually came back a bit crispier around the edges than they’d left, but they did come back. That’s the important part. Can’t forget that this was a thing that could be done and, obviously, if the king sent me then he’s confident I can do it. Right?

They’d fitted me with armor before I left. It was a bit old and beginning to show rust spots, but it was still nice of them to supply me after I let them know I didn’t have any of my own. Hopefully it’d keep me from getting too crisped. The sword and shield were in a similar condition and didn’t seem the best tools for taking care of dragons. But beggars and choosers and all that, you know. I figured I’d have a look and then supply myself as necessary from there.

Which is how I currently found myself approaching the enormous cavern that led to an even more enormous maze of dry caves that everyone in the kingdom was constantly attempting to prevent their children from exploring. I’d been lost in them for three days as a child. Found my own way out and everything. Would’ve been nice if someone had noticed I was gone and come for me, but they hadn’t and it had all turned out fine so. Yeah. Dragons. Focus.

How does one introduce oneself to a dragon without being eaten? Um, well, the scariest person I’ve ever introduced myself to was the captain of the castle guard. That hadn’t been exactly intentional, though, and I didn’t think the dragons would appreciate me falling on top of them any more than the captain had. So probably not a great idea to go in there with? I’ll save it for a backup plan if I can’t think of something better.

I don’t have to actually come up with anything, as it turns out. I’d been told before leaving that the dragons were inside this cavern. Inside. So when a shadow passes over me, a huge gust of wind nearly blows me off my feet, and one of the dragons lands in the field outside the caves … I admit it takes me entirely by surprise. Don’t know why I’d expected them to stay inside. Considering too many other things to get to that one, I suppose.

I remember thinking the word massive to describe the dragons earlier and well, it certainly is that, but the rest of it … I don’t expect this beast to be doing much murdering or marauding in any form. He’s a sort of dark grey that gives the impression it was once a deep, lustrous black. His teeth and talons, while huge, are yellowed and cracked or missing entirely in the case of at least two fangs. His eyes burn red still but are obscured, as though they’re filled with smoke as well as flame. The wisps of white hair seem to be everywhere but on top of his head. Sprouting from his ears, trailing from the ends of his eyebrows, tufts at his shoulders and elbows … wait, do dragons usually have hair at all?

Anyway, the astoundingly ancient creature looks at me with an overpowering sense of fatigue. “Here already, warrior?” he sighs.

Warrior? What? Oh, sword and armor. Not how I want to start off. I quickly drop the sword and shield and hold my hands up to show that they are empty. “I’m,” I try to explain. But I’m staring at a dragon. I’m staring at a dragon that thinks I mean it harm and my throat is closed off. I make another attempt to speak and realize it’s not going to happen. I hold up one finger, indicating I need a moment … dragons understand all that sort of thing, I’m sure. I drop my pack, detach the waterskin, and have a good drink. That fixes me right up.

When I put the water back and look toward the dragon, he’s giving me a curious look. I don’t know why he’s looking that way over me drinking a bit of water, but as there doesn’t seem to be hostility of any sort I decide to continue introducing myself. “I’m not really a warrior.” I manage to get out the entire sentence.

“You don’t say? Care to tell me what you are then?” The dragon sounds … amused? Almost? 

“I’ve been sent by the king to take care of you! Well, both of you. I was told there were two dragons? I haven’t seen another dragon … I mean, ever. You’re the first dragon I’ve ever seen! But, yes, I’m here to take care of you. So, um, what do you need? I mean, as I’ve never met a dragon I’ve obviously never helped to care for one. So I really have no idea … how … to …” I trail off as the dragon’s eyebrows rise further and further and stop speaking entirely as an expression that is obviously a smile cracks across his scaled face. His laugh is so low I feel it more as a vibration in my chest than hear it.

“My mate is inside sleeping. The journey here was tiring for her. This was the order your king gave? To care for the dragons? What an odd change of pace. It is certainly not the reception we’re accustomed to from humans.” 

I decide not to mention that I don’t understand either. “That’s it. So, um. What can I do for you, Sir Dragon?”

The weird, chest-rumbling laugh again. “Sir Dragon? I suppose that will suffice as you would be incapable of actually pronouncing my name. And I should call you what? Carer?”

“I suppose that will suffice,” I reply, proud of myself for sounding as dignified as Sir Dragon. Doesn’t matter what my real name is, if the dragon wants to call me Carer he can. I mean, not that I’m scared to correct him or anything at this point, but just … a dragon wants to give me a new name? That’s cool, right? But, unfortunately, I still have no idea what to do next. How to take care of a dragon. So I just. Look. At him. Uh….

The dragon sighs and his smile becomes a smaller, friendlier thing. He settles his tattered wings across his scarred back and turns to enter the cavern. “Come, Carer. Inside. We’ll have a cuppa and discuss this arrangement.” I follow, hoping he doesn’t expect me to explain the why of it all to him. Because I can’t. I mean, I really hope they just ask me to sweep or fetch and carry and things of that sort.

That’s what I find myself doing by the end of the afternoon. Lady Dragon was sweet as can be following her nap. After it was explained to her that I hadn’t been brought along as a snack, at least. Her wings had dragged alongside her as she emerged from the deeper caves. They’d explained she suffered from pain in the joints where they attached to her back, especially after exertion like flying all the way to the kingdom. That got my attention. 

I launched into telling them all about the witch in the woods nearby. I started by telling them all about her cottage. It’s a seriously crazy place. I mean, it used to be made of candy. Like, actual you could walk up and take a bite candy. Not that anyone dared to. Witch in a house of candy? Even I know better. But, seriously, it was an awful mess every time it rained. And the ants. God, the ants … So, it was just wood and stone now. But it used to be candy. Also, she makes an arthritis remedy that the king’s mother swears by and that’s what I actually wanted to tell the dragons about. The candy cottage just had to be described in detail first, since they’d never get the chance to see it themselves because it’s not candy anymore.

So, I’d gone to get enough salve for a dragon. The witch demanded the tip of my pinkie finger and the promise of a future unnamed favor as payment. I told her that was ridiculous and managed to talk her down to just the favor. So, as the sun sets, I’m rolling an entire barrel of arthritis salve across the meadow towards the cave and thinking of just how pleased King Roderick will be with me for taking such excellent care of the dragons.

[askayakashi]

Yakumo Koizumi

A/N: I need more writing for this fandom so I guess I’ll start with adding my own. Here’s a piece for everyone’s favorite professor. Please feel free to jump into my ask box with any requests!

-Admin Chey

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

As you strolled through the street, clutching the small package to your chest, you couldn’t help but smile as you imagined giving your friend the gift you had gotten him. After asking your father and you to sit for a painting-- a study in poses, he said-- Aoi had gifted you the art, refusing to take payment for it. You had racked your brain for a way to repay him, against his insistence that there was no need, and finally stumbled across a beautiful set of wooden paint brushes that you deemed worthy of the artist. While smiling smugly down at the package, knowing he would have to accept it, you didn’t notice that you weren’t paying attention to the road until you bumped into a stranger. 

The impact caused you to stumble, almost dropping the package in your arms, but before you could feel the crash of colliding with the ground, a strong hand grabbed you by the arm, just above your elbow, and stabilized you. You were mortified at your obvious lack of caution while walking and turned around sharply to face the person.

“Pardon me! I’m so sorry. I must pay closer attention as I walk; please forgive me!” you half-shouted in alarm, bowing deeply in apology and praying that the stranger was not too upset with you. 

“On the contrary,” the familiar voice started, “I can’t imagine a happier surprise than the circumstances that led to my running into you, my Sweet Doll.” 

You straightened up as your eyes met with the crimson eyes of your father’s close friend and observed his ever-gentle smile as he teased you, “Or should I say, with your running into me?” 

You were suddenly overcome with relief-- not only was the person that you had inconvenienced not upset, but it also turned out to be Professor Yakumo, whose presence had always been a comforting one since you were a little girl. At least, that was how it used to be. Recently, the way he always seemed genuinely happy to see you would trigger a nervous fluttering in your stomach. While you always held a gentle respect and admiration for the man, you had more recently begun to develop a sense of overwhelming delight in hearing him call you by his favorite nickname for you.

Ignoring the increased pace of your heartbeat, you gave him a smile in return and greeted him cheerfully.

 “Are you out performing a delivery for your father, my Doll? Nothing would make me happier than to have the opportunity to escort you in my carriage.” 

You smiled genuinely at his kindness. Regardless of your confusing feelings for the man, he truly was the kindest man that you had the pleasure of knowing. 

“Not today, Professor. I’m actually dropping off a present for my friend at the Raccord Milk Hall.” You didn't miss the way his smiled widened slightly. You overheard him mention to your father how glad he was that you had recently seemed to be surrounded by good friends, citing that he didn’t want you to miss out on making important memories in your youth. The fact that he cared so deeply about your happiness only helped to further your admiration of him. “You see, my friend recently painted a portrait of Father and I, and I wanted to repay his kindness.” You gestured to the package in your arms and he was pleased by your declaration.

“Then it is an even greater coincidence that we are on our way to the bookstore next door to the Milk Hall. Please allow me the honour of accompanying you there.”

He offered you his elbow and you took it as he walked you to the carriage. You tried to suppress the butterflies that seemed to flutter at the thought of riding with him. It was far from the first time that you would be riding alone with the man, having often been offered rides to and from school. However, that had been before you began to notice the change in your feelings for the esteemed professor. You graciously, if not shyly, accepted his hand as he helped you into the carriage before it registered in your head that he had said “we” and not “I” when he mentioned the bookstore as his destination. You balked as you entered the carriage, realizing that you were not the only guest that he was accompanying. 

Two beautiful young women sat on one side of the cabin together, arms linked, and looked up in curiosity upon your entrance. You took a seat across from them silently as your eyes studied the floor. You had no intention of being rude, but the surge of foreign emotions that bubbled up inside your chest confused you into a stupor. The idea of jealousy was not an unknown emotion, but the disappointment that you felt weighing on you surprised you to no end. 

For a moment, you had let yourself believe that you were the only girl upon whom the professor doted so lovingly, but felt a fool when you saw the beautiful girls across from you. Of course the handsome professor was not solely smitten with a girl who was practically still a child when he could have any woman he wanted. 

“Hello,” the unexpectedly kind voice broke you out of your internal debate as you met eyes with the beauty who spoke, “I am Miyami, and this is Hiyoko.” She gestured to the girl sitting in front of you who beamed at you with a mischievous look in her eye. Miyami smiled warmly and continued, “I haven’t seen you at the university before; are you coming with us to return some books?”

Before you could answer, the professor finished speaking with the driver and gracefully climbed into the carriage, taking the remaining seat beside you. 

“I wasn’t aware that anyone else would be joining us, professor. Won’t you introduce us to your friend?” The girl sitting across from you -Hiyoko- smiled teasingly in your direction as she asked her question. You willed yourself to smile in return, but you knew it must look forced. The situation was making you uncomfortable, if only because you didn’t have the privacy to decode the different thoughts swimming around in your head. 

You couldn't help but admire the beauty of the girls in front of you: one with a lively disposition of and the other radiating kindness. You tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, suddenly feeling self-conscious of yourself.

“Ladies, allow me to introduce you to L/N F/N.” You felt your chest tighten minutely at the introduction. Something about hearing his voice say your name, rather than the nickname he always used with you, made you feel oddly distant from the man who was sitting mere inches away from you. However, this feeling was quickly swept away by a burning heat in your cheeks at the girls’ responses.

“Professor!” Hiyoko gasped excitedly, raising her hand to cover her smirk as she glanced between the two of you. Her friend continued, “I had thought you surely exaggerated her beauty when you spoke of her. But I can clearly see that is not the case.” Your cheeks burned impossibly warmer at the compliment and the insinuation that he had spoken of you often enough for the young women to know you by name alone.

“How fortunate of us to get to meet the girl with whom the professor is so smitten.” Hiyoko continued in a teasing tone, oblivious to your ever-growing blush. Glancing to the man at your side, you found him gently smiling down at you. 

“Excuse my students, Doll, it seems they have not yet learned the art of subtlety.” He chuckled pointedly as he glanced at the girl in front of you who seemed unperturbed. So these girls were his students. If you hadn’t been so dejected at the thought of him pursuing the girls in front of you, you might have noticed the western history book sitting in Miyami’s lap-- the very subject that he taught at the university.

“How lucky you are to have such a charming man as the professor pursuing your heart. I must say I almost prefer listening to him talk about you than about the western countries.”

“Hiyoko, I would wish that you don’t embarrass L/N with your exaggeration.” The professor cut the girl’s joking off with a laugh of his own. “She will think that I am incompentent a professor if she believes she is the only subject of which I discuss with my students.” Your heart lightened at the soft laughter that seemed to fill the cabin and willed your blush to cool as you spoke. 

“I do not mind much if you should speak of me to your students.” You said, trying to hold back the happiness threatening to burst out of your chest at the thought of him truly only having eyes for you. “But perhaps it is only fair if you also speak of your students to me, so that I may be on an even footing upon meeting them.” You looked into his eyes as you spoke the second half, giving him a smile to let him know you were only half-teasing.

 “L/N is quite right, Professor. That seems only fair that you also speak of Hiyoko and I to L/N.”

“Indeed,” Hiyoko agreed with a laugh. “I am wounded that you do not speak of us. Though, I cannot blame you much, I suppose, since lovers have much more interesting things to talk about.”

The girl’s words and exaggerated wink stopped your heart for a split second as you registered what she had said. The blush that had previously begun to reside returned in full force, painting your entire face a shade of red as you stuttered, “L-l-l-lovers? No, the professor and I- we’re not- er-”

Your eyes searched for his in a panic as you wondered what he had possibly been telling his students. However, ever the gentleman, the professor kindly dismissed the notion.

“Ladies, please do not offend Y/N with your assumptions.” He glanced down at you, without a hint of embarrassment in his eyes, and his gentle smile calmed your racing heart. “While it is no secret that I adore her whole-heartedly, she is still young, and has much life ahead of her to live yet before I would ask her to properly consider my feelings.” He spoke to the girls, but his eyes were locked on yours and you felt giddy at the promise in his words. He would wait for you, but he was determined to be yours, should you so choose.

You smiled shyly in return and found yourself becoming lost in his eyes, the eyes that you had spent a lifetime looking into. Eyes that congratulated you on your achievements, encouraged you in your ventures, and assured you in your convictions as you grew. The man who waited patiently and whose declarations of devotion, while oft bringing a blush to your cheeks, never made you uncomfortable. As he stared back into your eyes, the loose strand  once again slipped from the cherry blossom pin holding up your hair and he reached up and grasped the strand between two fingers, gently brushing it back behind your ear. 

It was not until you heard two synchronized sighs that you remembered you were not alone in the carriage and looked up to find the girls smiling longingly at the scene in front of them. You cast your gaze down to the package in your lap, fiddling with the strings with which it is secured, as the embarrassment swelled within you at having such an intimate moment be seen by near-strangers. 

However, Miyami seemed to notice your discomfort and skillfully changed the topic of the conversation. 

“So you never did answer my question,” She nodded to the package in my lap. “Are you also headed to the bookstore?”  

“Ah, no. I’m actually delivering a gift to a friend next door.” Glancing down at the lap in front of you, you saw the book Hiyoko was holding to be a book that you had once borrowed from Ginnoji. You excitedly asked her about it and were happy as she shared her thoughts on it. You enjoyed the conversation, but could feel Yakumo’s eyes on your the whole time, wearing a smile as he watched you excitedly converse with the girl.

Before you knew it, you had arrived at your destination and the professor helped the girls out of the carriage, offering his hand to them as they stepped out. However, when you had exited the carriage, he kept the grip on your hand and brought it to his lips. You blushed as he placed a soft kiss on your knuckles and glanced up at you from beneath his eyelashes. 

“I apologize for my students. Believe me, I had no intention of making you uncomfortable and, while I am not reserved about my feelings for you, it is not fair to expect you to be comfortable with others discussing it as well. I will ask that they refrain from doing so in the future.” His eyes held an ounce of sadness, and any embarrassment from the ride quickly evaporated as you rushed to reassure him. 

“Please, don’t apologize.” You blurted, glancing away in embarrassment before steeling yourself and looking into his eyes as you continued. “I may not know much about love, but I do know that you have always been kind to me. I have never be embarrassed by your transparency and your students are very kind. I was simply surprised to find,” you suddenly trained your eyes on the ground, no longer able to face him as you continued with your admission, “That it was not simply out of kindness for your friend’s daughter that you’ve always doted on me, but out of a genuine affection.” 

You felt shame tint your cheeks as you admitted that you had always thought his words to be a jest, but his light chuckle grabbed your attention and you trained your eyes on his smiling ones. 

“Your candor is one of the many qualities of yours that I find myself ever moved by.” He seemed overjoyed by your admission of finally accepting his feelings to be genuine, his eyes shining with a brightness you had never seen. Suddenly, something over your shoulder caught his eye and his expression became amused.

“Now, I’m sure you must be eager to deliver that gift to your friend.” He abruptly changed the subject, releasing your hand. You let it fall to your side, tensing your fingers at the strange emptiness that came with the loss of his touch. “It was, as always, a blessing to find myself in your company today.” He bowed his head softly but found your eyes again. “However, I do have one parting request if you would be so kind as to indulge me?”

You felt your eyebrows raise in question and you tilted your head quizzically as he continued.

“When you are with me, you needn’t call me Professor.” The corners of his eyes crinkled with the strength of his smile.  “There is nothing I want more than to be able to hear my given name on your lips. ” 

Your heart began to beat erratically and the butterflies in your stomach returned in full force as you stuttered out a reply. 

“Yes, Prof-er I mean--” You glanced away as you finally stuttered out his name in a whisper. “K-ko-Koizumi.” 

You swore you heard a quiet gasp, but when you met his eyes again, his sweet smile had returned.

“Enjoy your evening, my Sweet Doll. I look forward to the next time I can be graced with your presence.” 

With a final dip of his head, he turned into Ginnojo’s store. You saw the book-lender himself speaking quietly with Miyami, a blush gracing both of their faces as you turned toward Raccord’s front door only to find Oji-san out front with his pipe. 

“You sure do have him wrapped around your finger,” He teased as you walked by him, feeling even the tips of your ears burning with a blush. Just as you glanced up to ask him about Aoi’s whereabouts, the boy in question descended the stairs and glanced up at you. 

You hoped against hope that presenting the gift to the boy in front of you would distract him from your current abashed state, but even without using his powers, he couldn’t ignore the color that dusted your cheeks.

“Why the hell is your face so red? Do you have a fever?” Ever the mother hen, Aoi huffed in exasperation as he grabbed a glass from behind the bar and filled it with water. “Why would you come all this way if you’re not feeling well?” He sat it down in front of you and placed the back of his hand to your head before putting his hand on his hip. “What’s going on?”

You ignored the soft snicker behind you of Oji-san trying to hold in his laughter and focused on the task at hand, holding his gift out to him, vowing to let yourself think about the events of the day once you’re home in bed where no one can see your blush.

[happy-haunts]

Madame Leota pt. 1

Madame Leota pt. 1

Chapter one | Constance pt.1 : Constance pt.2

Chapter two | Mister Topper pt.1 : Mister Topper pt.2

Chapter three | Madame Leota pt.1 : Madame Leota pt.2

Chapter four | The Hostess

Chapter five | Captain Blood pt.1 : Captain Blood pt.2

Chapter six | Emily DeClaire pt.1 : Emily DeClaire pt.2 : Emily DeClaire pt.3

Chapter seven | Finale

WARNING THIS POST CONTAINS THEMES OF VIOLENCE AND ABUSE!

The powers of the great beyond shuddered under the grasp of my incantations as the spirits whispered secrets into my ears- two of our own were approaching and with them were questions of which they sought me to answer. But deeper and deeper still I dug into their truest desires and as I pried prodded my eyes flashed open at the sound of Constance Hatchaway and Red bursting through my door.

I might not have a body but if I did then I would have been tapping my foot at the sudden intrusion. “I expect you both have a better reason for barging in here than just for me to tell you about our Bride?” Red was in awe at my knowledge of their quest.

“Okay so ... We actually do, can you explain why Constance and Hatty can’t remember things? And not like in the ‘we’re super old and lost our orthopedic slippers’ way but in the ‘we’re super old and hot and I can’t remember the story I literally gave a detailed synopsis of one minute ago’ kind of way.” Red took a seat at my table after her long winded speech, my head was resting on a metal stand inside of a glowing green crystal ball before her.

“Of course I can.” I moved my aura on a deck of tarot cards and flipped them up to face me one at a time.

“You seek the answers to the oddities of the Mansion, the force at work which controls the mansion and all inside.” I set down the cards neatly in their stack and then started the dramatic music behind them.

“Controls the mansion? There’s something controlling all of us?” Red asked, Constance was sitting beside her now, her eyes staring off as she was furiously trying to remember what they were doing.

“Not all of us ... I am immune since I am the one who gave the entity their power in the first place.”

“Oh so you just give out otherworldly magic on your off days? Is it just a hobby knotting up all of that black magic and gifting it to customers?” Red crossed her arms and slumped in her chair.

“I don’t give out the powers of the universe like candy!” I growled, but pursed my lips and avoided Red’s gaze. “However I may charge a fee- but we can discuss prices a little later.”

“I don’t want any magic of regions beyond!” Red sighed, “I want to know why this is happening to Constance and how to stop it.”

“It’s not happening to you.” I pointed out, “Surely you’re curious about that?” She fidgeted in her chair but gave a little nod as she pouted.

“Yeah... a little I guess.”

“The entity YOU’RE dealing with only controls the ghosts who belong to the mansion, you don’t belong to the mansion since your remains nor your death involved the manor, therefore whatever it is attempting to do with Constance cannot be accomplished with you.”

“The entity I’M dealing with? Is there more than one?” I grinned.

“I believe I should start from the beginning.”

“Or you could just give me straight answers so we don’t have to stretch this out over several chapters.” I whacked Red upside the head with my tambourine and refused to acknowledge her fourth wall break.

❧

I loved my childhood, my parents were always quite understanding of me even when I would act up - which was quite often - and the caravan would tell them to be stricter with me.

I was ungrateful for what I had and would always want more, I was a selfish child - no matter where we went I would always want to stay in the townsfolk’s houses and want to eat fine meats from the butcher... But we didn’t have enough money to get any of those things.

I began to grow older and as a teen I ran away from the caravan, I would go into the nearest town to dance for money in the streets and buy myself sweets - then refuse to eat the meals they cooked in the evenings.

One day I had done just that and headed off towards the current town we were in near - we travelled all around Europe and Africa so it’s hard to keep track of town names. I was approached by a man on my walk who was rather plump, he had straw decorating his ankles, a skirt that was a combination of a red and white fabric as well as straw, around his neck were beads and ... a shrunken head, his hair was black like coal just as his eyes were, face decorated with red paint, and seated on his head was a black top hat.

“Good evening young lady my name is Trader Sam, and what is a little girl like you doing out here all alone?”

“I don’t see why it’s any of your business.” I said while raising my chin as though he was beneath me.

“You seem rather put together for a girl of your age.”

“Because I am, now if you excuse me I have to get to work.”

“Of course, I apologize.” I gave a little nod and turned away only for him to continue talking. “I was going to tell you how to earn even more money without even having to work ... But I understand.” I turned to face him again.

“How do you do that?”

“Oh I don’t want to keep you from your work, so I had better go.”

“Wait! I asked you a question!” He smiled and propped himself forward on his umbrella. “Tell me how to make money without having to work.”

“Well if you want to really know then we’ll have to make a deal first.” I crossed my arms and leaned back - glaring at him suspiciously.

“What kind of deal?”

“It’s more of a trade really - I take something of value to you and you take all of my secrets.”

“Secrets...?”

“Yes, because you know the only way to make money without working is magic.”

“Oh please, there isn’t any such thing as magic.” He lifted his palm and after a moment a green ball of fire appeared, I gasped and stepped back from him - he extinguished the flame. “How did you do that?”

“Magic.” He shrugged, “And I can give you all that power - all of the freedom to do as you please ... If you are willing to make a deal.”

I let the offer sink in - it was everything I could ever want! No more dragging around the caravan, no more cooking rabbit for supper, and no more needing to rely on nasty rich people to pity us.

“I ... I’ll make a deal with you.” Trader Sam grinned while extending his hand to me.

“Then lets shake on it.”

As I took his hand the shrunken head that hung around his neck opened it’s mouth and a green ball of fire like the one Trader Sam made before floated in the air towards me- absorbing into my chest.

“And now for your payment, I shall take what is most valuable to you.” I patted myself down, I hardly had any money on me - but he seemed to chuckle at my searching. “Oh no, not monetary value ...” He lifted his hands and my parents appeared on either side of him.

“Wait! You can’t take my parents!”

“You shouldn’t have been so careless, they are what you value most.”

“Leota? What is going on?” My mother hissed, but Trader Sam snapped his fingers and my parents were now two shrunken heads in his hand.

“GIVE THEM BACK!” I screamed and blasted one of those green orbs towards him - Sam merely shielded himself with his umbrella and turned away from me. I was crying now while the rage filled my chest, “Don’t walk away!” And he stopped in place, “I want you to be rooted to that spot for the rest of your life.” He peered back to me, now a little nervous.

“I think we can come to some kind of deal here ....”

“Give me back my parents and I’ll set you free.” I was having a hard time seeing him since so many tears were rolling down my cheeks.

“I can’t do that, once a deal has been made then there is no reversing it ... Besides that you parents are...” He lifted the shrunken heads. “Well and gone.” I clenched my fists, screaming while falling onto my knees.

“You’re an absolutely terrible man!”

“Perhaps, but that’s how I became head salesman.” I couldn’t take it any longer, I picked myself up and walked away - listening to his pleas of mercy slowly fade the further I separated myself from him.

❧

I couldn’t show my face in my old caravan after that, I decided that I would travel to a new continent and lucky for me there was a ship leaving for the Americas when I reached the harbor.

I snuck aboard and once I arrived at our destination I set out to find a new home.

I manifested a wagon and I travelled across the Americas for several years before I found a town that hadn’t immediately shown me out upon seeing my psychic reading skills.

This town was New Orleans Square, and being that I was now 29 by the time of finally finding a tolerable town - I was glad to bring my traveling to a halt. The town was nothing too fancy or large with green metal rails decorating balconies, red brick homes, and trees that were decorated with swamp moss.

I set up my wagon near the edge of the town so not to block any paths for the townspeople, and the morning after I brought out my table as well as my crystal ball to sit outside and entice people to my readings.

It didn’t take long before a gentleman approached my table, “So you must be the famous Madame Leota.” He grinned - the man looked young but his hair was startlingly white and he wore a noose around his neck.

“Famous? I only just arrived here yesterday sir - you are my first customer.”

“No, no the apparitions have been speaking about you all night - they hardly get any real entertainment, most of the time they hang around family members and criticize their life choices.” I blinked but smiled to the man, what a very strange thing to say.

“I didn’t know anyone else could converse with the dead - let alone do it passively.”

“Yes it was quite the shock when I was younger! I was at my dear Granny’s funeral when I saw my first spirit - she was quite livid that they had decided to have an open casket instead of cremating her like she wanted to be.”

“I would be livid too, what did you say your name was again?”

“I didn’t.” He said flatly and sat in the chair across from me, “But if you would like to know it is Vincent Beauregard Gracey, eldest in the Gracey line.”

“I didn’t know there was a Gracey line, but it’s good to meet you Vincent.”

“Mister Gracey - please.” I cocked an eyebrow at his boldness.

“Mister Gracey then... I am Madame Leota.” He seemed to pay me no mind as he sat in the chair- his eyes wandering over my wagon.

“Memento Mori ... So you are also a fan of the Macabre?” I gritted my teeth at the mention but eventually relaxed, giving a polite smile to the man.

“Yes, I have a few regrets and because of this I am patiently waiting for the moment when I can cease to exist, thus I will always remember death.” Vincent nodded approvingly.

“If you would like to go sooner I have this.” He lifted his noose that hung around his scrawny neck, “I haven’t the time to get to using it myself but perhaps someday.” He sighed, “The spirits make the afterlife look like such a good time.”

“I would like to see the afterlife if it’s as much fun as you say.” His eyes met with mine for the first time and he leaned his elbows on the edge of my table.

“Well now, if you would like I can show you my graveyard tonight over dinner?”

“I think I would like that very much Mister Gracey.”

“Then it’s a date.”

❧

I slaved away the rest of the day before finally getting to close up shop and go into town to buy a dress especially for tonight.

What a man, He could commune with the dead AND owned a graveyard? He must have been after my heart with a line like that.

I asked around the town for the home of a Vincent Gracey - which greeted me with anxious glances, eventually I was pointed to the mansion at the end of town and I had finally arrived.

I had chosen a blood red gown that popped from my dark brown skin, my brown hair was pinned up and two red droplets hung from my ears.

Vincent was standing at the large iron gate which led to his backyard, he took my hand and kissed the knuckles before leading me into a graveyard filled with what must have been somewhere near 900 graves? Atop some of the headstones were candles that made a path to a table for two, red roses decorated the table.

“I apologize for the florals - it seems my gardener had gotten rid of all my decaying roses.” How considerate!

“No need to apologize, this is still very lovely.”

“Won’t you sit? Feel free to speak with whomever you choose that has passed on - they seem to know quite a bit about you it seems.” I was taking my seat as he said so and looked up in confusion.

“How is that? I’ve hardly done anything of noting.”

“They say you’ve thwarted a warlock by the age of 13.” I unconsciously soured my expression.

“He was hardly a warlock, just a slimey black magic dealer - he swindled me out of having parents.” Vincent considered me for a moment while I took to composing myself, after all it was my fault ... I was a rotten child that had no business trying to act as though she was grown.

“How very tragic for you my dear ...” He placed his hand over my own, his eyes were like sapphires. “I knew a girl who lost her parents once, she was an odd one such as you and I - she romanticized those who had passed on without even knowing that they lived among us nor having any power to know as much.” He stroked my hand with his thumb as he knitted his brow, “I used to live with my parents in their mansion - it also had a graveyard of the Gracey’s whom passed before us, but there were a great deal of them which remained unmarked or were so old the names had faded ... Leaving them to be forgotten.”

“How terrible ...”

“But as if out of the blue, flowers began appearing on those graves every night - naturally my parents thought it was me since I usually strolled through the graveyard to converse with my deceased family. Curious about the mysterious visitor I decided to ask about it to the dead - it was a young girl that visited every night followed by two apparitions which were trying to interact with her. More intrigued than before I decided to wait for her to arrive - she was small with short hair and wearing a mourning gown, the two ghosts behind her were telling her to leave the town.” Vincent pulled his hand back and sighed. “Not long after the flowers stopped being placed on the unmarked grave.”

“Did she die?” I whispered - invested in the story.

“No, not quite.” He tilted his head to the side and looked past me a moment, his eyes lit with excitement. “My brother is home!”

“Brother? Here? Now?” I felt broken hearted when he said so, we hadn’t even eaten supper yet.

“No! No! Some family is visiting from Liberty Square and they said my brother has just arrived home! I haven’t seen him since mother and father sent him off to join the Navy, oh but I don’t think he’ll much like if I visit him - we never got along very well.” Vincent locked eyes with me and grinned, “Leota! You can visit my brother for me and tell him I’m in New Orleans Square! You can tell him to come visit me!” My heart began to sink even more as he proposed the plan.

“Well I suppose I could -.”

“Wonderful! We must cut the evening short and you need to head on your way at once! Oh and if you could send my greetings to the residents in the graveyard as well- that would be just fantastic of you.”

❧

And that’s just how life is - one moment you think you’ve met the man of your dreams, and the next moment he is sending you to a wealthy town to say hello to his wealthy brother and dead family members.

Liberty Square was all brick and white picket fences (with the exception of the Gracey Mansion) the people were suspicious and distant. I needed pointing to where Mister Gracey lived so I stopped a large man who wore a grey suit with a yellow ascot tucked into his vest.

“Excuse me, I’m looking for the home of a Mister Gracey?”

“It’s at the end of the road - I would think a slave would keep better track of her master’s home.” Some of the townspeople near him snickered at me.

“What did you just call me?” I growled, stepping toe to toe with him now. “I think you should evaluate your words before you speak them, otherwise I might hitch you up to a wagon like the ass you make yourself out to be.” The man adjusted himself as he turned a light pink.

“You had better watch your tongue, woman, and recognize who you’re speaking to.”

“My apologies- you must be a pig instead of an ass.” His face turned deep red as he raised his hand to strike but a man in a black coat grabbed his wrist and leaned towards the older gentleman.

“Well now, lets not cause a scuffle right here in the streets.” His hair was curly and black, pale skin, and ... sapphire eyes. “I heard there was a green-eyed woman looking for my place around town, so naturally I went on my own little adventure.”

“William, you had better keep your help in line.” The older gentleman yanked his arm from William and straightened out his coat.

“She’s not my help, Mister Mayor, I think she’s new in town - but allow me ma’am.” He linked his arm with mine and began walking me down the street.

“That man is your Mayor? He’s an insufferable ass.” William laughed and patted my arm.

“Yes, yes he is - but he is like an angel to the town, they all fear the changing times and the mayor is an unmoving stone ... Their only constant.” How sad that so many people could be so fearful of the future and the unknown, that they would just let such a man have power. “On a lighter note, why is it that you were seeking me out?”

“Ah, your brother wanted me to send you his greetings from New Orleans Square, he would like you to visit him now that you’re back.”

William rolled his eyes, “I’m not going to visit that ghost seeing idiot - does he still wear a noose around his neck?” I nodded, “Of course he does!” He unhooked our arms and ran his fingers through his hair. “I apologize, I just don’t much care for my brother ... either one of them.”

“There is another one of you?”

“Yes, Dorian ... He’s the middle brother and he’s full of himself! Probably married a mirror for all I know.” William shook his head, “No, no, enough talk about my family - where are you staying miss...?”

“Leota, I have a wagon that I left in the woods, I’ll probably make camp there tonight.”

“If it’s even still there, we have gypsies that live in our woods Miss Leota so you may wish to stay at my home tonight - if not then hurry back to make sure they haven’t mistaken it for something abandoned.”

“I’ll probably just go back and get it, however I wouldn’t mind sleeping in a real bed - that is if you have somewhere I can store my wagon?”

“But of course, my doors are always open.” He lifted my hand and kissed the knuckles with a wink, before I turned away towards the woods as the sun went down.

❧

Lucky for me my wagon was still seated among the trees where I had left it, as I assessed the inside to make sure nothing was missing I heard music off in the distance, curious I stepped back outside into the night and noticed the light just beyond where I was.

It seemed to be a camp, upon closer inspection I saw it was a caravan of only 10-20 people - how had they gotten so small?

“What do you want?” Called a man, he drew a knife as I came into the firelight.

“I mean no harm, I’m camped just beyond those trees and saw the fire - I was just wondering who my neighbors were.”

“She has witch eyes...” One man whispered,

“I don’t need a witch in our caravan, we suffer enough as is.”

“Calm down, I’m not a witch - witches are far less powerful.” I rolled my eyes, “But everyone is so scared of them because their hats are pointy! Oh no!” I feigned fear and placed my hands on my hips.

“As if a witch wasn’t bad enough, you’re a devil then.”

“Stop it!” A girl stepped in front of the man - she wore a yellow dress, dark brown hair, tanned skin, and flowers knotted in her hair. “She has already said she meant no harm, there is no need to be so mean!” She held her arms out shielding me.

“Emily, you’re too naive! This woman curses people!” The girl named Emily turned around - looking me up and down with her bright blue eyes.

“She seems normal enough to me.” A sly grin slid over my lips.

“Fine, if it will calm your nerves then I’ll make a deal with you...” I held out my hand to the man, “I will not harm this caravan in any way and in return I will ask one favor of you when I need it.”

“No way, I’m not going to risk whatever you ask of me.” He crossed his arms but the girl grabbed onto my hand and gave it a hearty shake.

“Deal!” She grinned and the deal was made. “There, now your caravan is off limits and no one needs to worry anymore.”

The man was pale as he looked to Emily, but in his astonishment he couldn’t find any words to reprimand her so ... he walked away.

“You know that was quite foolish of you, I can ask anything of you and you’ll have no choice but to obey.”

“Yes well, you don’t seem like you’ll make me do anything too bad - I trust you.” She looked behind me to my wagon, “Are you going to be heading back to town? I should start heading back home anyway so I’ll walk with you.”

I almost lost it when she said that, “Are you telling me you live in town? You aren’t even part of this caravan?” Emily seemed confused but she answered regardless.

“No, but they’re good people - they get harassed a lot by the town so they’re a bit more wary of strangers but they really aren’t all that bad.”

“You really are naive ... “ I sighed and headed with her to my wagon.

❧

I stayed at Mister Gracey’s that night - he had his red coated servants take my wagon while William gave me the grand tour. The manor itself was grand in a gothic style, the very entrance had long walls looking like they stretched to eternity- if it weren’t for Williams’ instruction I would have thought there were no windows or doors, it took us to the hallways which were a royal purple - with a wallpaper that felt as though it watched me, then we went off into the grandballroom - it seemed to be set apart from the rest of the mansion since it was decorated in silvers and whites with white billowing curtains over the windows which were as high as the house itself, and then he showed me the backyard where members of his family were buried and where I told the residents that Vincent said hello.

“He really wanted you to talk to the dead for him?” William scoffed.

“What is it about our abilities that you doubt?”

“Hm, perhaps the existence of magic in general? It’s all just observation and parlor tricks.”

“Well maybe I’ll be able to change your mind while I’m here... but for now, goodnight Mister Gracey.”

“For fucks sake just call me William, I hate all that title crap- er and goodnight Leota.”

Getting up the next morning I decided to entice the young Gracey by setting up my reading table not too far from his front door. I also wasn’t sure how this town would take to such an occult dealing on their streets, but I was happily surprised when I had quite the line of folks wanting to know their desires or if their husbands were cheating on them.

One young lady sat at my table wearing a mourning gown, her hair was blonde, and eyes dark blue.

“Why such a beautiful young woman, what is your name and what do you ask of Madame Leota?”

“I’m Constance Hatchaway, I wanted to know... if I ever find true love?” She blushed but the harsh look on her eyes never faded.

“Let us look, may I have your hands?” She reached out and I closed my eyes.

Seeing into the future was much easier than reading a person - all it took was a conduit made of some kind of stone or glass(my crystal ball) and the physical touch of the person whom wants to know their fate.

I walked on top of a river made of stars as I searched for her request, leaning down every now and again to reach into the river and inspect the stars which contained every moment in her life. I searched until I came to an abrupt halt from the stars ... This was the line of death, where the river stops then so does ones life - but amazingly beyond the gap were blue stars! It was impossible but I was seeing into her afterlife, upon further inspection there was a certain star among them that glowed a warm red color and as I picked it up I was overcome with such joy I couldn’t help but laugh.

I released Constance’s hands as I was still laughing - now wiping away a tear.

“It’ll take a long time but you will find true love.” I leaned close to her as she leaned in with me. “And she will be beautiful.”

“T-thank you!” Constance blushed and scrambled to stand as she stuffed money into my jar.

It was rather nice to know at least one person in the town was normal.

My relief was short lived as the Mayor stood before me now, his hands clasped behind him as his sky blue eyes evaluated my set up.

“And what can I help you with?” I growled.

“I was just wondering if you had permission to set up shop here? But of course I know you don’t since you would have had to ask me personally.”

What a jackass.

“I don’t believe you have jurisdiction over someone’s private property.”

“Oh but I do.” He leaned down with his hands clutching the edge of my table, I was lucky it didn’t snap under his weight. The mayor wasn’t a fat man but rather built for someone of his age, and taller than any man I’d ever seen - the best way I could describe him was a brick wall. “You see I run the town and the town pays their taxes which means they pay me... to live here. You wouldn’t want me to evict your master now would you?” I sucked in a breath and glared, giving a glance behind him - hoping someone was there to perform a reading on but it seemed he waited till everyone had gone for the day, but a thought crossed my mind.

“Dear Mister Mayor...” I cooed, “Won’t you let me give you a free reading to make up for this? I can search deep down to your truest desires - things you may not realize you have been denying.” He seemed to think about it a moment before taking a seat across from me and placing his hands palm up on either side of my crystal ball.

I placed my palms atop his and closed my eyes.

[peachymhaechan]

“You know, you have pretty good taste.”

Genre: fluff, a tiny bit of angst I suppose, travel!au

Pairing: Hyuck x reader

Warnings: language, my guy

A/N: i’m uploading this after junior year is finished, hell yeah!! also, happy birthday my full sun, we all love you so much!! unrelated but im trying something other than bullet point scenarios for once?? who IS she

   It was four in the morning, the sun wasn’t out and the birds were not chirping. Instead, the sun was in the process of rising and all that could be heard was shitty airport music and the overpowering sound of airplanes taking off. The people passing by you were an odd mix: some passing layover time by getting drunk off their asses, some hustling to the next gate, some excited to go on vacations (Example that everyone has seen before: that middle class family of four headed to Disney World with matching Mickey and Minnie Mouse T-shirts with their names on the back) or see their families. You, however, happened to be in the group of people who had just finished vacation and were now back home, and dreadfully so. Who would want to go back to the boring and mundane after being at the beach with a group of friends for two weeks? 

   Taking your time to pick up your luggage, you stopped in the bathroom to pass time, as you wanted to avoid the initial rush to at the baggage claim. The first ten to fifteen minutes at the baggage claim were the worst because you had to deal with cranky tourists, crying babies, and overly loud people talking on the phone. After it felt like enough time had passed, you went to the baggage claim for your flight and waited to pick up your suitcase. It was black, with a hard exterior and no really notable qualities other than a yellow tag with your personal information written on it. 

   The bags all went around the conveyor belt a few times and you finally spotted your bag. Well, what you assumed to be yours; it was the exact same suitcase with a yellow tag, so there was no real need to be suspicious of anything or doublecheck the tag. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed a boy who appeared to be your age grabbing a suitcase that matched yours to a T. He looked tired, like he had been running nonstop and was extremely exhausted, so you thought of complimenting his choice of travelling bags but stopped yourself. Just as you were about to leave, you felt a pair of eyes on you so you turned and found the boy with the same suitcase staring at you. He blushed at being caught but still gave you a small smile and bowing his head in a sleepy greeting. You did the same to him, giving him a small wave and saying, “You know, you have pretty good taste,” and gesturing to the bag. 

   He chuckled cutely, the noise making you blush immediately, and said, “You too.” With that, you both went on your merry ways, not thinking anything of the encounter or the fact that neither of you checked the damn tags to see if you took the other’s bag. Plot twist: you grabbed the wrong bag. 

   About one hour later you closed your apartment door behind you, slipping off your shoes and collapsing onto the couch. You threw your phone onto the charger and placed it onto the coffee table and as soon as your head hit your pillow, your eyes shut and you fell into a deep slumber, your body trying to get rid of the major jet lag. 

   The sun shining through the window and warming your skin woke you in the middle of the afternoon. Deciding that the amount of sleep you had gotten after getting home would be substantial enough for the time being, you got up and started to unpack. Laying the suitcase on your bed, you opened it up and it took you a second to realize it, but boy oh boy were you shocked. 

   That was not your suitcase. 

   How did you know? Well, because the last time you checked, you didn’t wear boxer briefs, especially not ones with lipstick kisses all over them. 

   “Fuck. Shit. Ass. Piss,” was all you could say as you closed it back up and went to check the tag tied around the handle. Lee Donghyuck, the name read, with a phone number scribbled next to it. You went into the living room to go and text the ever mysterious Lee Donghyuck, when the screen was illuminated with a text message from an unsaved number. 

   Hey Y/N, this is Lee Donghyuck from the airport. We had the same bag, remember? Well, I think you’ll find out pretty soon if you haven’t already that we have each other’s bags. Let me know when you’re free so we can swap, please!

   Sighing a breath of relief at the fact that at least the boy was polite and respectful about this awful situation, your fingers started moving over the keyboard to send a message back. 

   Hi Donghyuck, this is Y/N! I’m free all day, where would you like to meet up? We can go to a coffee shop by my house if that is okay with you. If it’s too far, no worries! We can just find somewhere else to go :)

   Not even seconds after you sent the message, Donghyuck sent a response asking which coffee shop you had in mind, and to send him the address. You happily obliged, wanting nothing more than to sort out this mess and get your stuff back. 

   Alright sounds good, I’ll see you there in about an hour !!

   It had almost been time to meet up when you started to head to the coffee shop you guys planned on. It was a little hole in the wall, mom and pop place that had stolen your heart (and money) ever since you moved to that little neighborhood. The best drink on the menu was their caramel macchiatos, the warmth from the beverage warming you to the core on the coldest winter days, and the ice in the cold version cooling you on the hottest summer afternoons. 

   The little bell above the door rang when you walked in, and the barista at the counter gave you a warm hello. “Y/N, how was your trip?” Jaehyun, the fulltime sweetheart and halftime barista, asked you, immediately making you your usual. Taking a seat at your normal spot by the window, you flashed him a grin and said, “Amazing. It felt so good to get away and worry about nothing other than putting on more sunscreen.” The tall boy handed you a steaming cup and before he could say anything else, the bell rang again. 

   Your eyes drifted to the door and you found yourself staring into the same eyes you had stared into earlier. Donghyuck stood in the doorway, not as recognizable, having changed from that morning. Rather than wearing sweatpants and a hoodie, he donned ripped jeans, a loose sweater, and clean sneakers. Rolling your suitcase right behind him, his eyes scanned the room for you, and you could pinpoint the exact moment he saw you. 

   “Y/N?” he hesitantly called, walking towards you. Jaehyun retreated to behind the counter, leaving you two to it. “Yes, hi, hello!” you confirmed, waving hello to the boy and finding yourself in shock when your heart skipped a beat at the sight of him running a hand through his faux golden locks. 

   “Ah, I’m sorry we had to meet like this,” he sheepishly told you, rubbing the back of his neck. He took a seat across from you, changing the view you normally got in your spot. Never in all your experiences at the shop had something or someone changed the view you had: the window to the outside, showing the little alleyway and any locals walking to some of the other shops. It came to you, then, that maybe you didn’t mind a bit of change if it was that cute. 

   “Oh, I don’t mind, really. I’m glad it happened with someone as respectful as you, though. You never know how people can be nowadays,” you said, taking a sip from your drink. “Would you like something to drink? Jaehyun is really good at what he does,” you said, nodding over to the barista who stood behind the bar, seeming bored out of his mind. 

   “Hmmmm…. what would you recommend?” he asked, stealing a glance at the bit of froth that gathered above your lip. 

   “The caramel macchiato is what I normally get. Both iced and warm, its great,” you said, gesturing to the beverage in your cup, a small smile on your face. 

   “Alright, then. I trust you. I’ll take a large caramel macchiato...” 

   Once Jaehyun had made the drink and refused any payment (and gave you a wink from behind Donghyuck, thank God he couldn’t see that), you two chatted for hours. The sun was starting to set before it dawned on you that you had been there for almost three hours, stomach sore from laughter and cheeks burning from smiling. Talking to Donghyuck felt like talking to an old friend, despite knowing him for less than twenty-four hours. In the short time you had spent together, you gathered that he was a sweet and caring boy, as he took care of his younger friends and his younger siblings, but that didn’t stop his whip-like tongue from throwing out witty remarks any time an opportunity arose. His sense of humor was very similar to yours, and his interests were the same as yours, so you two had endless topics to discuss. 

   “Oh my God, what time is it?” you asked, falling out of your stupor and dragging your gaze away from the boy’s beautiful curled lashes and the way they rested upon his cheekbones. You heard Jaehyun dramatically yawn behind the counter, causing you to roll your eyes as Donghyuck checked his watch and said, “It’s almost nine o’clock, I’m about to miss the next bus to get back to my house.” 

   “Well, I guess we should be leaving, then. Good night, Jaehyun, thank you for everything! The macchiato was great, as always.” You both stood up and gathered your things, switching suitcases and checking the tags this time just to be safe. You both shuffled out of the shop, sending a smile and a wave over your shoulder to the barista before standing in the middle of the doorway. 

   Standing there, you weren’t sure what to do or say, but then Donghyuck spoke up. “Thank you for agreeing to meet up with me, I appreciate it. A lot of people nowadays would have just mailed it to me or something, so I’m pretty grateful that you met up with me right away. Oh, and you’re pretty nice, too, so, um... maybe we can meet here again? If that’s okay with you, of course.” There was a crimson tint to his cheeks and you found it outright adorable that the boy blushed at the thought of seeing you again. 

   “I’d love that, Donghyuck! Thank you for not being a serial killer or something and recommending your house instead,” you told him, trying to lighten the atmosphere around you two and succeeding when you heard a little giggle escape his lips. “You really should be going now if you don’t want to miss that bus,” you said, giving him a smile. 

   “Yeah, you’re right... text me when you get home safe, okay? I feel terrible that I can’t walk you home.” He kicked at a rock on the ground, a small pout forming on his cherry red lips. 

   “I will, don’t feel bad! Have a nice night!” you exclaimed and, feeling particularly bold, leaned up to place a feather-light kiss on his already dusted cheeks. The seemingly outgoing boy froze on the spot, skin heating up and eyes widening and watching you pivot and wheel your suitcase away with energy in your step. 

   As soon as you got home, you flung yourself down on the bed and let your actions sink in finally. The memory of kissing his cheek made you all giddy and start giggling, before inevitably squealing into your pillow. Remembering what he told you before you were ever so adventurous, you pulled out your phone and sent him a quick text. 

   Okay, I’m glad you made it home safely! :)

   A few seconds later, you received another text, not giving you any time to recover form the first one.  

   Would you like to hangout tomorrow? If you’re available, that is! 

   Fingers flying over the keyboard and heart leaping out of your chest, you sent a reply right away. 

   I’d like that a lot, Hyuck

[princess-soa]

See Me Clearly- Chapter 3

Chapter 2

And just like that, she wad part of the crew, working on their bikes during the evenings and on customers' cars during the daytime. Gemma displayed her artwork in the office after her first week, which caused more business as people brought in both their bikes and cars alike to be painted. She didn't take any extra payment, but she took dog toys and bowls and similar items to be donated to the local shelter as a thanks. Charlie was a part of everything she did, so it only made sense that she work to better his life and the lives of other animals. After a couple weeks of mass donations, the shelter contracted her to do artwork for their building and some portraits of their animals who were up for adoption as promotion. Soon enough, she had gained a following and business was picking up for both her and the shop alike.

With this, her and Juice started to get closer as well. If you couldn't find him at the shop or at his apartment or at the clubhouse, he was with Ryan and Charlie. He helped out around her house, fixing the leak in her kitchen sink and patching the piece of carpet leading into her bedroom. He helped her plant some vegetables in the back and helped her hang the rest of her pictures around the house. He never took payment, just dinner and a cold beer or two and a smile. Occasionally he would get a kiss to his cheek and that was more than payment enough for him.

"You've got Juice wrapped around your finger, you know?" Gemma commented one afternoon, having stepped into the new "art space" to let her know she had a new customer. Charlie perked up at her voice, standing to his full height from where he had been laying against Ryan's chair.

"He's just being sweet. I feed him home-cooked meals and I think that's what's keeping him close." She was laughing with Gemma, but something thumped twice in her chest at what the older woman had said. She didn't come out and say it, but she liked having Juice around. It broke up the monotony of her life, and it gave Charlie someone else to love on him.

"I think you could just give him a smile and he would still come around, sweetheart." She patted her hand and walked off, leaving her to get up and stretch before going to find her next customer.

Her words swirled around Ryan's head as she chatted with the woman in front of her, discussing the design she wants on her husband's new motorcycle as a birthday present. She had mentioned that her husband had been in a couple times to talk to Clay and Jax and saw Ryan's work on the walls and was in love. This caused Ryan to laugh, saying how she appreciated the praise but it wasn't necessary. They discussed a price and a time-frame to drop the bike off so she could work on it, and when to pick it up. Once everything was settled and the paperwork was filed, she thanked her with a smile and a handshake and decided that it was time for lunch right after. Most of the boys had already clocked out for their lunches so she let Gemma know she would be in the clubhouse for lunch if she was needed before heading out. Ryan slid off her work shirt and fixed her messy bun before grabbing Charlie's things from her truck and heading towards the clubhouse where she knew all of the boys were.

~~~~~ Juice ~~~~~

Juice was sitting next to Chibs, laughing at something he said when he heard the side door open. All of their heads turned to see who it was and a giant grin lit up his face when he saw Ryan and Charlie walk in for lunch. He was on his feet a moment after to give her a hug and help her with her things, Charlie content to let him get close as he surveyed their surroundings. Ryan smiled up at him and kissed his cheek in thanks before going to join everyone for lunch. He still can't help the light blush he gets after every kiss, but goes up to sit next to her nonetheless and finish his conversation with Chibs while she chats with Happy about their upcoming tattoo session. Juice was currently sporting his newest one, 19/15/01, in Roman Numerals along his inner right bicep. The numbers stood for the placement of the letters SOA in the alphabet. He had let her pick since it would be her first tattoo ever, and he loved how it turned out. Happy had sat next to her the entire time, explaining how everything had to be set up and showing her with his hands on hers so she would be able to learn by touch as well. Hap had done the stencil so it would be straight and handed her a pair of gloves before they got to work, Juice's eyes never leaving hers as she worked so diligently. This was two weeks ago and it was almost all the way healed, something that Ryan was immensely proud of. Especially since her doctor's appointment was coming up in a couple days and she was hoping for some good news. She was still turned talking to Happy, eating with one hand and had an extra free since she hooked Charlie's leash around her thigh. Before she had sat down, she had placed his food and water bowl down next to her so he could be in reach and eat peacefully while she chatted. This free hand, however, laid gently down on Juice's thigh, which caught him by surprise. She glanced at him shyly for a moment but left it there in hope that it would be okay. Even though Juice's heart was threatening to thump out of his chest, he laid his hand on top of hers and laced their fingers together as he continued chatting with both Jax and Chibs about an upcoming run to Arizona. Both of them sighed inwardly and had little smiles that no one caught on to. With this small action, Juice knew he was going to ask her out. Soon. He just had to figure out how and when, so he noted that he ought to talk to Layla as soon as he could.

~~~~~~Ryan~~~~~~

She still couldn't wipe the grin off of her face as her and Charlie went back into the garage after lunch, her hand still having a "ghost's touch" of Juice's fingers wrapped around hers. What Gemma said had spurred her action and she was pleased when Juice didn't push her away, but she also wasn't ready to cop to Gemma that she did, in fact, like Juice too. She liked the new stages of romance, and she liked to keep things quiet for as long as possible. Especially since she hadn't been in an honest relationship since her accident.

*I know it's not its usual length and I'm uploading from mobile so it won't have links yet. It also may not sound like the previous chapters, but I'm getting back into writing and it's taking some work. I hope you like it either way!

@jadert15

[renjun421]

roommate! renjun au

a/n: also a college! renjun au i guess...my first bulleted scenario,,,, feel free to share thoughts!!

warnings: none

genre: fluff

word count: 1k

sooooo

you just graduated high school! congrats!

you worked hard and managed to make it into your dream university

the school was..perfect

it was everything you would’ve ever wanted

except for the fat tuition payment

besides that, you realized a deadline was soon approaching

your roommate

you finished you application

you paid the deposit

but you were stumped on the roommate selection

you were moving to a new place

so you wanted to make sure you were at least comfortable in the dorms

dorms were co-ed so you had many more options as well

you figured trying to find the ‘perfect roommate’ was impossible

so you opted for the random assignment

good luck!!

a few months later,,

you get the mail confirmation of your roommate:

huang renjun

the letter told you his school email and his major (arts)

you were quick to open your email to send him a greeting when you realized

he had already sent you one!!

“hi!!! i’m really nervous and excited for my next few years in college and meeting you! i look forward to seeing you at move in day (: -renjunnie”

the note was small,, but cute

and then your inbox notified you again

it was him!!

“i realize i signed my email as renjunnie,,, sorry about that. my name’s renjun and maybe later i can explain to you the nickname!!”

you type to him a response similar to his first message and went on with your college preparations happily

move in day is here!!!

your parents weren’t able to make it to help you so you were struggling on your own

i’m saying this bc i’m weak but you’re probably not lol

you had to get a dorm on the third floor

and you were in the oldest dorm...

so,,,, no elevator

after your fourth trip you were already dead tired

you hadn’t run into renjun yet and it was already five hours into moving time

you mind was occupied with so many other thoughts

that you forgot a step

you’re falling,, it’s chaotic,,

but someone catches your elbow

it’s a boy and god he’s handsome

he saved you but not your boxes

it’s okay though because your bedspread can take a hit

you thank the boy and he smiles at you before you head in your own directions

which happens to be the same one

it’s kinda weird until you realize you both reach for the same door!!

“oh...oH!! renjun?”

“hi!! are you y/n?”

“yeah nice to meet you!”

“here y/n let me get the door for you!”

y’all help each other move and it’s a great time!!

he’s sweet, he thinks you are the cutest,,, it’s the besttttt

living w renjun is...different

you’ve gotten used to random art and paint spills being in random places

he’s gotten used to helping you choose your nail polish color

you have Vent Mondays where you guys release your emotions and Sappy Saturday where you watch romcoms

you guys enjoy each other’s company a lot and often just find that you two connect

renjun cooks a lot,, but it stems from the fact that he had to cook most of his childhood

it’s second nature for you to come home to like the best meal ever

since your dorm doesn’t have a kitchen (it’s a community one), you often having others beg to try some

renjun usually tells them something like “i really didn’t make enough....”

he’s a liar,,,

it’s enough for a family of eight,,,,

but once you guys got closer he can usually figure out what you like the most

studying with renjun, however

damn near impossible

this kid,, his energy,, does not like to sit still

but he can marathon movies

he gets good grades, mostly As with the occasional B

and it bothers you because he just doesn’t study

on a Vent Monday once you spent 2 hours ranting about studying

and since then

renjun is lost for however long you plan to study

he just,, disappears,, because he know he can’t help himself not to bother you when you’re around

one time, he kept working on a portfolio project

all portraits had to have a theme and a new one was due each month

since it was a two-term class, he would need around 8 portraits

after everyone was finished, he would gush to you about it

you could listen to renjun talks about his project for hours

his portfolio project was people that he loved

and the first one was his mom, he didn’t get to see her often because she got an overseas job in china,,

the other one was his father, who passed away while renjun was in high school

his aunt, who helped raise him once his mother began work in china

his cousin, who was raised along with him like a sibling

you anticipated each project more than the next

the insight they gave you into renjun’s life was something you reveled in

about two weeks before the summer term,, he tells you his final one is due

and shocks you because he says it’s the best one he’s done

“renjun, all of these people are so important to you how can this one be the best”

“it was an easy reason why it’s the best,, you can see soon”

“aren’t you finished now?”

“of course but we need a proper day for it,, i’ll tell you on moving day”

neither you have discussed where you’ll live in the summer term

neither would take classes, but it just never came up

flash forward to moving day

you still don’t have a plan because why would you

and you remember about renjun’s portfolio!!! 

in between the piles of boxes you call out to him

“renjun!! your final portfolio portrait!! tell me about it!”

his head pops out and he walks over to you, the portrait in hand

“y/n, i’m really gonna miss you..so this last one is dedicated to you”

the portrait, of course, is of you

it’s so beautiful, he caught all the little bits of you that others wouldn’t notice 

it has the entire essence of you captured in one project

“i’ve been working on this the longest,, the more time we hung out as roommates i realized how much i love you. you’re family to me and you’re everything i could ever ask for. so i have this huuuuuuge proposition,,,, this summer,, would you like to spend time with me and visit my family in china??”

“rejunnie..”

he smiles at you finally calling his nickname

“i’d wish nothing more”

[xathia-89]

Setting off the Trap

The uneasy truce was certainly felt throughout Azuchi during the visits made by Yukimura, Shingen and Kenshin. Kennyo was the common enemy to eliminate, though it was going to be a free for all once he was captured as to who would get the ultimate decision as to what to do with him. Most of the warlords had intercepted a plan from the determined man to kidnap me, though Ieyasu and Yukimura were now viewing it all as a personal battle to one-up each other after they’d both had to rescue me twice from hired rohins and devoted followers in an attempt to lure out the rushed alliance before everything was decided. After Yukimura had carried me back a second time, Ieyasu had told Oda to put a ban on me going anywhere alone. 

Nobunaga had agreed to it and issued the order immediately. Which meant that I now seemed to have all of the warlords around me most of the time. I was summoned to war councils every day and then added in to bring some of my sewing along to do since it was basically ensuring that I wasn’t being left out of their sights. I had been moved into Ieyasu’s manor just before the final order, and he was looking a little grumpy that I was being constantly moved about now as to where I was staying on a daily basis. It was strange, he was moody whenever I was under his care but even more so when I wasn’t. Mitsunari was able to spare me an hour or so and was taking me to one of the tea houses for some dumplings to escape the oppressive atmosphere. 

Just to get out of the castle was a relief, though my happiness was short lived as Yukimura came running down the wooden ramp to catch up with us. “Mitsunari, the whole castle is looking for you,” he huffed, “You’re wanted in the hall.” 

“I do apologise Natsuki,” the angel smiled sadly and bowed as well.

“It’s not your fault, I was just looking forward to spending some time outside of the castle,” I replied, trying to reassure the man. “It’s okay, another time.”

“I’ll take you,” Sanada spoke up suddenly, then blushed a little at how eager his response had been as we both looked at him. “I mean it’s not like I’m needed currently and getting out of the castle sounds good.”

“You are too kind, you’ve already rescued me twice,” I smiled broadly. “You might want to bring your sword with you.”

The three of us walked back in a slightly uncomfortable silence. I was the inevitable buffer between them and somehow had managed to become quite a treasure on both sides, even if I wasn’t sure any of us understood how I’d done it. I had quickly learned that Shingen natural reaction to any woman was to flirt, so to handle him was the same line of technique as it was to when Masamune started getting a bit hands on. Kenshin’s instant response was to kill first, ask questions later, but Sasuke was his handler for certain as the usual distraction was to mention sake or pickled plums. Yukimura was I trying to figure out in many ways, he was brash and referred to me as a wild boar on many occasions, but was also the first of the Uesugi-Takeda forces to offer me protection. He would go out of his way for me at times and had spent our entire second trip back from the final rohin capture complaining to me about how I made myself an easy target by not knowing how to defend myself. I got the inkling that he didn’t understand his feelings either on the scenario. 

Ieyasu had already started teaching me medicine since it was becoming quite clear that Nobunaga had no intentions of leaving his lucky charm behind for any skirmish or battle. And that way I wasn’t being a hindrance to anyone in his words. It would generally also free him up instead of being the main healer in the troops. But my lessons had ceased with the constant movements, and I was starting to miss my time with the prickly male as I loitered in the entrance way of the castle. 

It didn’t take long for Yukimura to reappear, his face relaxing as he saw I hadn’t wandered off and I gave him a little wave. I felt like I’d been in the castle for months as we left again. My coin purse was slipped away securely in my obi, and then halfway down the bridge, Sanada paused and the frown on his face told me that he was thinking too hard as I couldn’t hold back my laugh. He blew the air out of his mouth and then offered me his hand, the tips of his ears blushing. “You know, just so we don’t get lost, you’ve had enough adventures and caused enough problems,” he replied, trying to brush it off as nothing as I couldn’t stop my laughter and put my hand in his. 

“Sure Yuki,” I teased lightly. 

I felt as though I was being watched, but glancing back over my shoulder proved my theory to be false. The vassal shook his head at me and pulled me along to get down into the town. 

All of the vendors had been more than relieved to see me safe and well, as I made sure to take enough time studying the newest fabrics and patterns and discussed getting a delivery up to the castle for me. Yukimura was constantly on the lookout and trusting no one as his hand was resting on the hilt of his sword. Then one of the seamstresses passing by noticed I had donned one of my latest creations, a doubled over band of fabric that sat comfortably around my head and kept my hair out of my face, a type of headband that didn’t dig in as I’d found that it was annoying to needing to keep styling my hair out of the way on a daily basis. It also acted as a good cover in the rain since I would usually be caught without an umbrella. So we had stood and chatted for a little while about that. It took us a long while to get to the tea house, and then we were seated at the high point of the covered seating, where no one could sneak up on us or get to me without attracting a lot of attention. The whole town it seems had heard of my misadventures and targeting. 

The tea was refreshing as the dumplings were as sweet as I remembered them, and even Yuki looked to be enjoying himself as everyone was keeping their distance and creating a barrier of sorts around the entrances. His smile softened as he tasted the dumplings, and I remembered that it must have been a long time since he was last here and posing as a merchant when I had talked him into coming here with me. 

“It’s refreshing to see you with that smile on your face,” I commented, and then watched the vassal close back up. “Aw, I was enjoying you relaxing,” I teased, poking his cheek. 

“Pfft,” he retorted and shoved a dumpling into my open mouth. “Eat these, though I swear you are as bad as Lord Shingen for sweet things, I’ll probably need to start rationing you as well,” then he eyed me up and down.

“Putting some weight on might stop me being carried off so easily,” I scoffed, feeling a little sulky at the comment. 

The male immediately started trying to backpedal. “No, I didn’t mean that!” He panicked. “Too many sweets isn’t good for you is all I’m saying.” His eyes were threatening to pop out of his head as I gave him a side look. 

A scoff attracted both of our attention as Ieyasu plonked himself down on the cushion next to me. Another pot of tea came over as the two men were silently weighing each other up as I rolled my eyes and found I had another serving of dumplings in front of me, the tea house owner giving me a wink. 

“Thanks,” I smiled generously. “You are going to run yourself out of business if you keep spoiling me this way,” I laughed, clearly ignoring the chest beating that was going on around me. 

“Who knows how long until your next visit? Might as well lavish on you now Princess,” he replied, waving any attempt at the payment I was going to make, though I was given another subtle wink as he jolted his head towards the men. 

“Who knows indeed, thank you kindly,” I replied, taking the hint and the fresh dumplings. 

Ieyasu was asking me about various herbs and medicines, purposely trying to keep Yukimura out of the conversation and my attention focused solely on him. I was feeling sorry for him as the three of us were soon joined by Shingen and Sasuke, and the sake was brought out. Tokugawa was definitely going nowhere it seemed as Takeda swapped my tea for sake, and ramped the charm up. Whilst Sasuke was simply there as damage control it appeared. 

It was a couple of hours before I could convince any of them to move. Apparently, I was attracting a lot of attention as the situation kept going on, and it was making me feel a little uncomfortable. It was bad enough having all of the spotlight on me with the six warlords I was used to, never mind another three and then all of the townspeople too. It was an odd feeling to be so treasured as Sasuke escorted me back to the castle. Ieyasu apparently needed to go to the market and Shingen was staying for more sake which meant that Yukimura wouldn’t leave him unsupervised. 

Sasuke was looking vaguely amused once we were clear of the chaos. “So, you’ve got everyone looking at you it seems,” he smiled. 

“Tell me about it, I thought having my parents phone me a few times a day was bad enough, but having nine overbearing warlords definitely beats that. Especially when there’s a genuine reason for concern,” I groaned, my head tilting back and looking up at the sky. “I thought Mitsunari was the only free one today anyway,” I paused and frowned as I looked back at Sasuke.

“He heard that Mitsunari was needed, but he was meant to be escorting you, and Lord Shingen apparently said something about ‘go and spend time with her’ according to Lord Kenshin,” he replied eventually after a heavy pause. 

“You all can’t keep sacrificing things for me,” I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck. 

“On the contrary,” Masamune and Hideyoshi greeted us at the gate, as Date’s arm was slung around my shoulder with a slightly perverted grin. “You are the key to this mystery currently. So getting you out in the town is now the game plan, especially if you keep attracting such a crowd so that people will pay attention to you without looking out of place.”

“So, I get to deal with all of Azuchi focusing on me?” I replied nervously, and watching where Masamune’s hand was going as he nodded. “Great.”

“Don’t sound so worried,” Hideyoshi sighed, taking Date’s hands off me. “It just means you’ll be going into town with at least two of us as guards most days,” he smiled and patted me on the head. “We’ve already been hearing reports of what was happening in the tea house when Ieyasu appeared after Yukimura was already with you. So it means they’re more likely to come and study us all for openings.”

“But if I’m constantly out with at least two of you,” I frowned. “Then that’s no guarantee you’ll get anywhere.”

“No, but you’ll have a regular routine, and then all of a sudden we drop the guard,” Masamune explained. 

“Right,” I nodded. This was going to be really awkward for me, I could usually handle having all of the warlords' attention in the castle, but add in the publicity, and I had a feeling I was going to be put on a stage effectively. 

Mitsuhide was relishing in embarrassing me as much as possible the following day as we walked around the market with Hideyoshi in tow. I wasn’t sure if Toyotomi was trying to mother me more or scold Akechi for his antics as I didn’t try to show them both how much I was enjoying the show they were performing for me. A few of the merchants had comments about unusual activity on the trade routes, but nothing concrete as Mitsuhide would slip them a few coins and Hideyoshi would make a mental note of who to chase up on his next visit. Ieyasu was pacing outside my room as we returned. The fabric had been delivered from yesterday’s visit as he stalked me straight away from my room and to his manor, muttering about having time for lessons. 

He was as close to me as possible, his hand shadowing over mine as we trailed through books on disguising poisons. His choice of topic was a little macabre but necessary as he advised on coating weapons and how to ensure nothing caused a mishap. I was practically sat in his lap as a knock startled us both, and Yukimura entered without waiting, a very unusual move for the man. The glare he was giving to Tokugawa was making me feel uncomfortable as it turned out I was staying with Shingen that night and to tell us both that dinner was ready as Nobunaga had called for all of us to be present. 

I was happily sat adrift of the glaring duo, and placed between Nobunaga and Hideyoshi as all of the food prepared for me was taste tested by a young maid. She would take miniscule amounts, enough to show that if poison was present without overdosing on anything, despite my protests to Oda. I had to sulkily accept it as the rest of the warlords immediately agreed with him, and then Nobunaga surprisingly replied that the maid was being appropriately rewarded in monetary terms for the job. 

Yukimura insisted on escorting me back to Shingen’s chambers, under the facade that he didn’t trust his lord to not be a gentleman. I could see Ieyasu practically turn green with envy, which was starting to concern me. “Have you realised it yet Natsuki?” Shingen humoured himself after I was stretched out in my futon, my head turning towards him as he was enjoying a bit of sake whilst watching the moon and stars. 

“Realised what? Why I’m constantly under guard?” I queried, sitting up to look out over the scenery from where Shingen was at his ‘post’. 

“Why Ieyasu won’t leave you alone,” he corrected with a chuckle. 

“He does,” I replied, frowning. 

“He was really busy yesterday, and then heard that Yuki was the one escorting you around Azuchi, so he wore such an expression that Nobunaga suggested he go and find you,” Takeda was enjoying this far too much. 

“I really doubt that,” I shook my head, a sigh escaping in the meantime. 

“And then how do you explain the look he was giving Yuki when you were escorted from the hall to here? I know you saw it,” he teased. 

I was blushing and was immensely glad it was dark enough that the warlord couldn’t see. “I don’t know!” I scoffed before laying back down and turning onto my side so Shingen couldn’t see any further reactions to his jests. 

I was yawning incessantly the following day. I had been so flustered by Takeda that it had taken me forever to get to sleep, and then it was constantly full of dreams of being kidnapped again when I did drop off. I was beginning to think of hunting down to Sasuke to find out when coffee would be brought into Japan as I walked straight into Yukimura. 

“You really are hopeless,” the vassal sighed, patting me on the head. “Come on, this way,” he joked, taking my hand and leading me to the hall where everyone had already assembled for the next meeting. 

I was then snatched by Ieyasu, and seated promptly next to him, as Shingen gave me a look of ‘I told you so’ whilst I remained completely confused. Sanada backed off and went to sit next to his Lord, whilst some food was passed to me by Tokugawa, though he was busy ‘warning’ off the others with his bitter expressions. 

“She’s asleep?” Hideyoshi sounded surprised as Ieyasu was shifting about in discomfort at the position she was using as her pillow. They had been thoroughly discussing how best to confront the rohins and how much longer to continue the facade of the warlords' guards when she failed to answer a question that Nobunaga asked. Shingen was looking smug, especially as Ieyasu was torn between pummeling the man into the ground and storming off with the slight woman. 

“She keeps having nightmares,” Takeda spoke up. “I couldn’t sleep, she woke up after screaming every time,” he was serious, and looking at her with concern as Natsuki’s face began to twist and scowl. “I’d take her somewhere quiet and get her something to eat and drink,” he shrugged. 

Oda nodded merely to Ieyasu, who carried the Princess in his arms back to his manor. The rest of them were ceased in any movement by Nobunaga and Shingen. 

“This is something they need to sort out,” Nobunaga announced. “Masamune, I’m sure the kitchen could do with a hand to fix up a nice batch of okinawa soba,” he suggested, looking at the one-eyed dragon. “And maybe some okayu as well.” 

It smelt homely when I began to stir, and there was someone next to me as I slowly opened my eyes. I could just smell the food from the kitchens as my stomach made a loud grumbling noise in response. 

“How long have you been having those nightmares?” I froze at the sound of Ieyasu’s voice and realised I was clinging to him as the heat source. “Natsuki,” he sounded tired and lifted my chin up so we were looking each other in the eyes. “What did I tell you about other men?” 

“That you’re all the same?” I was trying to think of anything except how close we were. 

“You started to have a nightmare until I held you, then everything calmed down,” he frowned. “And everyone else reported something similar, despite that you were passing it as one-offs to them all.” 

“I guess you’re the lucky one?” I tried to smile, but my heart was threatening to burst from my chest. 

“Apparently so,” he murmured, his lips closing on mine softly. “Stop touching everyone else, it makes it harder to tell them you’re mine,” he scoffed, wrapping me up in his arms tightly. “Especially with how easy you are to read, stop it,” he muttered as everything in me was glowing with happiness.

[breeeliss]

[Miraculous Ladybug]: Protection Detail

hellooooooo @the-number-4 !!!!! i’m your back-up secret santa from @mlsecretsanta !! im so so so sorry this is so late. between the blizzard that hit us last week and other irl stuff, i’ve been swamped. but i heard that you’re a huge fan of marichat so i thought that you might appreciate something cute and fluffy for them. i hope you enjoy!

Link to Archive of Our Own: [AO3]

Title: Protection Detail  Pairing: Marichat (Marinette x Chat Noir) Summary: Chat Noir takes it upon himself to become Marinette's first line of defense against the male teenaged jerks of Paris.

Protection Detail 

According to Ladybug, Chat Noir was developing a bit of a “publicity issue.”

Which, at first, seemed like such a lie because just last week Chat Noir was trending on Twitter for close to three days after a pretty heroic rescue involving an entire auditorium worth of helpless civilians trapped inside a theater. Not to toot his own horn, but it had been pretty spectacular, so as far as he was concerned he was riding on the coattails of a publicity success story .

Of course, then she had to clarify that she had meant his heightened publicity itself was the issue since he was apparently amassing far to much of it.

“That’s ridiculous!” he gasped. “We’re nationally renowned superheroes. How is us being well known an issue?”

“Us being well known is an unavoidable side effect. Giving your phone number out to a group of adoring fans so that they can ‘call you anytime they’re in trouble,’ however, is an extremely avoidable side effect.”

“I gave them the number to my baton. It’s not like it was my personal phone number.”

“You’re telling me you don’t see any negative consequences to this?”

Chat Noir waved away her concern. “They know it’s for emergencies only, my lady. It’ll be fine.”

It wasn’t fine. His phone was blowing up at all hours of the day for reasons that had literally nothing to do with being in danger. Chat Noir once answered the phone only to have a strange girl he didn’t know ask him what size underwear he wore. Why that information was pertinent, he didn’t know, but needless to say it took hours for Plagg to figure out how to program a brand new phone number into the thing.

It was about the closest thing to a scolding Plagg had ever given him which was sort of impressive when you considered the fact that Plagg hated taking anything seriously.

So, okay. Fine. Maybe giving out his work number to large crowds wasn’t the best idea.

But he was a public servant! A hero to the defenseless! A symbol of Paris! Making themselves available to civilians was part of their job. It was so hard to see collège students younger than him sitting in ambulances after traumatizing akuma attacks and not subtly hand over his number so that they could call him next time there was an issue. His heart bled for the people he was tasked with helping, and the only reason he developed this “publicity issue” in the first place was because he cared so much.

Besides. A couple of people here and there having his number wasn’t a bad thing so long as he didn’t let it get out of control again, right?

That hope didn’t come back to bite him until one afternoon when he was patrolling alone and his phone starting ringing against his hip. Assuming that it must have been Ladybug, he picked up and skipped over his greeting. “Hey, so I’m like three blocks away from that Indian restaurant we found yesterday if you wanna come join me. But if not, it’s cool, I was about to head home anyway. You all done with shopping?”

“...er...Marinette? ”

Chat Noir pulled the phone away from his ear and frowned at the very male voice that was talking to him from the other end. “Uh, I’m sorry, who is this?”

“ Um, my name’s Pierre? I’m trying to get in touch with a girl named Marinette. Is she home?”

Weird. Chat Noir didn’t remember giving his number to a guy like Pierre, and especially not one that sounded this old. He was sure he would’ve remembered someone like that. “You’re not exactly calling her house, buddy,” Chat Noir said. “How did you get this number?”

Pierre cleared his throat. “ W-Well, uh, Marinette had given it to me but I guess I must have dialed it wrong or something. Oh crap. You’re not her boyfriend, are you? ”

Marinette…Marinette? The only Marinette that Chat Noir knew was Marinette Dupain-Cheng from school but he didn’t understand why she of all people would have his —

Oooooh. Wait a minute. Hold on.

Chat Noir turned on his heel and looked back in direction he’d just come from. “Yeeeeah, you’ve definitely got the wrong number, man. Sorry about that. You might just wanna let this ship sail, though. If she really wanted you to call her, she would’ve made sure you had the right number before she left you.”

“ Wait, do you know her? Can you just give her a message for —”

Chat Noir winced. “Unfortunately my matchmaking services are closed on Wednesdays. Woops! But, uh, better luck next time I guess!”

He hung up the phone before the conversation got more awkward and checked the time. Only a little after five. Marinette was probably still running the registers at this time. Hopefully she wouldn’t mind him paying her quick visit.

Lately, Adrien had been getting into the habit of visiting the bakery in the mornings before school and directly after classes let out to indulge in some of the sweets that his father would never let him have. It was partially a convenience thing, but it was mostly because Mme. Cheng liked to sneak him extra treats when her husband wasn’t looking and ask him about how his studies were going. It got the point where he visited to often, he only really needed to walk in before Mme. Cheng had his order already charged to the register.

But one day he completely forgot he was transformed and walked into the bakery as Chat Noir while politely asking for his usual. Marinette happened to be running the registers that day and needless to say he surprised her and the rest of the customers with how casually he’d entered. He really needed to get better about remembering to detransform before he went on his errands….

Anyway, the good news was that if Chat Noir wanted free pastries, all he needed to do was visit Marinette when she was working — Monday, Wednesday, and Thursday afternoons — and trade in autographs as payment. For some reason, she didn’t seem too interested in keeping them for herself, but she swore she had a friend who would absolutely adore them and Chat Noir could live with that so long as she kept the chocolate eclairs coming.

When he finally got to the bakery, he plucked a napkin from the dispenser on the counter, quickly signed it, and handed it to Marinette. “A palmier and a penny for your thoughts?”

Marinette smirked and pocketed the autograph. “If this is about whether or not the bell around your neck is getting in the way of your manly image, I’m kicking you out the store.”

“No. Although I still think we should revisit that discussion.” He leaned on the counter and lowered his voice. “Do you remember that time I gave you my phone number after I saved you from that akuma? Told you to call me anytime you were in trouble again?”

Marinette nodded. “I remember. Although, I don’t know if it’s such a good idea for you to be giving that out to random civilians.”

Chat Noir pouted. “Ugh, you sound just like Ladybug. Anyway, back to the point. You wouldn’t happen to have given that phone number to a guy named Pierre, would you?”

Marinette’s eyes widened at the name. “Oh no. He didn’t call you did he?”

“He called me like fifteen minutes ago asking for you. I’m assuming that was on purpose?”

“Damn. I’m sorry,” she sighed. “I meant to call you and warn you about that after I got off of my shift so that it wouldn’t seem so random. I didn’t expect him to try calling me right after I left him.”

“Yeah, about that, who is this guy?”

Marinette rolled down and slipped on some serving gloves so that she could collect a bag of treats for him. “No idea. He was some première student that was flirting with me on my way back home. He kept touching my waist and asking for my phone number even though I kept telling him no. He was being really creepy and insistent about it so I sort of just panicked and gave him yours before I ran inside. I figured if he got you on the phone he’d think you were my boyfriend or something and just let it go.”

Chat Noir’s jaw dropped. “What a minute. A première student!?”

“I think so. He said he was seventeen I think.”

“And he was touching you without your permission?”

“Yeah, he was like trying to wrap his arm around my waist and pull me to his side. Super weird. Anyway, do you still like opera cakes? I can throw in a couple for you if you want.”

Chat Noir held up a hand. “Wait a minute, hold on, waaaaaiiiit a minute . Who is this guy? Where does he live? What school does he go to?”

Marinette shrugged. “I don’t know. Why are you asking?”

He scoffed. “Um. Gee. Because there’s this creepy dude that’s like three years older than you being a total tool and forcing you to give him your number when you’re clearly uncomfortable?”

“What are you going to go beat him up or something?”

“You do realize I’m a superhero, right? I could totally Cataclysm all the hair off the top of his head. Then we’ll see how many young girls he’ll go around harassing after that.”

Marinette chuckled. “As much as I appreciate how passionate you are about defending my honor, I don’t think you should do that. It’s not that big a deal.”

“How is a douche nozzle of a lycée student harassing a collège student for her phone number ‘not a big deal’?”

“Because that’s not the first or the last time a douche nozzle is going to come bug me for my phone number. Look don’t get me wrong, I appreciate your concern I really do, but I promise everything’s alright. You don’t need to go hunt him down.”

Chat Noir shook his head and absently took the bag of treats that Marinette handed him. “To think I wished him luck when I hung up with him. And he sounded so meek and innocent. What a total liar! Complete jerk! I can’t believe you had to give him my number just to make him go away.”

Marinette pulled him away from the display of macarons before he knocked it over with all of his gesticulating. “Hey, I really am totally sorry about that. I understand how that could’ve been uncomfortable what with you being a superhero and everything. I’ll try to make sure I don’t give it out like that again. I’ll come up with a better dodge.”

Chat Noir tapped the tip of her nose. “No. You know what? If anyone else from here on out is super insistent about asking for your number, definitely give them mine. I’ll handle it.”

“Oh no,” she groaned. “You’re planning something. What are you planning?”

“Nothing bad. At least not for you.”

“ Chat .”

“Worry not, princess!” he announced as he opened the door to the bakery and valiantly held up his food as if it were a knight’s sword. “Chat Noir is a hero to all, and I will not let this injustice against you stand.”

She stared at him flatly. “There hasn’t been an akuma in days. You’re bored. This must be it. You’re totally bored.”

“Nonsense, princess!” Chat Noir exclaimed, shocking the couple that ducked under his arm to enter the bakery. “My commitment to ensuring your safety is wholly sincere and not for my benefit in the least. If anything, this has officially become my top priority.”

Marinette shook her head fondly. “Alright, Chat. Whatever you say.”

Chat Noir bowed farewell and sent her one last pointed stare. “Don’t forget to call me if something weird happens.”

“I will, I will, I promise. Now shut the door. You’re scaring the customers and letting all the cold air in.”

After all of the akumas that were packed in tight all throughout last week, it seemed like Hawkmoth had finally hit a slump because there hadn’t been a single attack in days. Chat Noir and Ladybug had even decided to put the patrols on pause for a few days because the weather had gotten way too frigid to justify spending prolonged periods of time on the windy rooftops of the city. Maybe Hawkmoth wasn’t a fan of the weather either. Or maybe people were too busy hiding from the cold in their homes to bother being upset enough to get akumatized at all. Whatever the reason, Marinette wasn’t complaining. It gave her an excuse to catch up on all the sleepovers she owed Alya.

Marinette was leaving one of those sleepovers on Sunday evening and decided to brave the frigid weather and walk back to the bakery instead of making Alya’s parents forfeit their parking spot and drive her. It was a bit of a trek, but Marinette was bundled up pretty well and the exercise was worth it.

She was tightening her scarf around her neck when she realized just how dark it had gotten and how empty the streets were looking. Alya didn’t live in a particularly dangerous neighborhood, but she wasn’t sure if she wanted to take such a long walk by herself.

Marinette frowned and scanned the rooftops. Chat Noir was usually out and about on Sunday nights. Maybe this wouldn’t be a terrible time to call in that favor he’d offered her.

Deciding his theatrics were worth the safe trip home, Marinette quickly dialed him and waited until he got his voicemail.

“ Hey there, this is Chat Noir. If you’re calling to ask for Marinette Dupain-Cheng she wants nothing to do with your creepy butt and if you have a problem with that you can take it up with me. Lucky for me it won’t be much of a fight, so choose wisely. If you’re calling to ask for me, I can’t come to the phone right now, so just leave a message and stay miraculous! Laterz!”

The voicemail beeped and Marinette placed her hand on her hip. “Chat, you really don’t have to be threatening all of these nonexistent boys for me. I haven’t even given my number out these past few days. I mean, I appreciate the thought and everything, but I don’t know how Ladybug is going to feel about you planning on beating up lycée boys.”

She pouted and started walking towards home. “Anyway, that’s not why I called. Uh, I’m on the corner of Violet and Tiphaine in the 15th arrondissement. I’m walking home from my friend’s house and I’d appreciate some company since it’s a long trip and it’s pretty dark outside. No rush, but if you wouldn’t mind meeting up with me, I’d appreciate it. And change your voicemail greeting for heaven’s sake!”

Silly cat.

Soon he’d be plastering his face on the news and announcing his new safety escort service to every single teenage girl in Paris. She didn’t think that caring too much would ever be a problem for anyone, but if Chat Noir was an expert at anything it was completely obliterating her expectations.

Chat Noir was usually pretty good about checking his messages, so hopefully it would only take him a few minutes to get to her. In the meantime, Marinette made sure to stay on the busier streets and keep her phone in her hands in case Chat Noir called her back.

She’d only been walking for about five minutes before she stopped at the crosswalk and caught the attention of a boy just a couple of years older than her who had just walked out of the supermarket on the corner. Marinette was busy checking her text messages and was startled when he tapped her shoulder and introduced himself. “Got a long walk home ahead of you?”

He didn’t look particularly suspicious, but his intentions were pathetically obvious judging by how poorly he was trying to hide his appraisal of her. Definitely not worth her time. Marinette smiled politely and kept her eyes on the crosswalk. “Not too far.”

“It’s a little chilly for you to be walking, isn’t it? Aren’t you cold in that skirt?”

Marinette kicked the side of her shin. “Thermals. I’m plenty cozy, don’t worry.”

“Oh come on,” he smiled. “Listen. I’m heading for the bus stop right now. Let me pay your fare so you can have a warm ride home.”

“The bus doesn’t stop in front of my house. Makes more sense to walk.”

He blinked. “O-Oh. Well, I mean…isn’t it kinda lonely walking by yourself?”

Marinette raised a brow. “Not really? I’m a big girl, I’m fine walking a few blocks.” The crossing signal finally flashed and Marinette took the chance to quicken her step and end the conversation. “Nice meeting you.”

But it didn’t seem like he had gotten the hint because he jogged across the street to catch up with her and grab her hand to slow her down. “Wait, wait, hold on a minute! You mind if I walk with you then? I’m sure we’re going the same way and it’ll make me feel better to know you got home okay.”

Marinette snatched her hand back and shoved it in her pocket. “I haven’t told you where I lived, so how do you know we’re going the same way?”

“Well, we’re walking down this street together, aren’t we?”

“Listen,” Marinette sighed. “I appreciate you trying to be nice, but I’d really rather walk by myself.”

The boy frowned and kept alongside of her while standing too close for her comfort. “I mean…okay, but I don’t see what the big deal is with letting me walk you home.”

Marinette’s smile was forced. “Because I didn’t ask you to walk me home, and you’re making me uncomfortable. So I’m just going to go on by myself.”

The boy rolled his eyes. “Whatever you say, I guess. Can I at least get your phone number then?”

“Yeah, I don’t think that’s a good idea. I should get going.”

“Seriously?” he scoffed. “What’s the harm? It’s just a phone number.”

“You know, you’re really persistent,” Marinette glared. “And that’s not a compliment. I just told you I don’t want to, so shoo!”

“I’m being persistent because you’re being nasty,” the boy complained. “It’s just texting, it’s not like I’m going to be a creepy about it. You’re pretty, and I just want to talk with you more.”

Marinette eyed the convenience store on the corner and wondered if she could lose the jerk in there. “Would you get lost? You are being creepy about this, and if you don’t cut it out I’m going to call someone.”

“What like the cops?” the boy exclaimed. “God, why are you being so frigid? Are you this rude to every stranger you meet?”

Marinette cursed under her breath and pulled her phone out so that she could fake a phone call to an imaginary boyfriend or something. Figures that the on the rare occasion she decided to walk all the way home from Alya’s some weirdo would be trying to accost her the entire way home. Whatever. At least if she meandered around the convenience store, she’d have a warm place to wait until Chat Noir showed up, and hopefully walking shoulder to shoulder with him would deter anymore idiotic behavior from strange boys she didn’t know.

But at that moment, almost as if the mere thought of him summoned him to the scene, Marinette heard someone loudly clear their throat above her.

“Is there a problem here?”

Chat Noir slid down the awning of the corner store and landed gracefully in front of the boy who had backed away a couple of steps and looked nervously between him and Marinette. She had to admit, for someone who wasn’t particularly assuming or intimidating, Chat Noir was doing a pretty good job of making the boy uncomfortable by brandishing his staff and clenching his fist as if he were two seconds away from calling upon his Cataclysm.

“A-Ah, nothing’s wrong,” the boy explained. “We were just talking. We’re friends, and we were playing around.”

Marinette snorted and linked arms with Chat Noir. “Hey, Chat. Thanks for coming. I have no idea who this jerk is.”

“Sorry I couldn’t come sooner. I was halfway across the city when you called. Lucky I came when I did though.”

“It’s okay. I appreciate you coming on such short notice.”

The boy furrowed his brows at the sight before him. “What’s going on here? Is he your boyfriend or something?”

“Are you her boyfriend?” Chat Noir countered. “Because if you aren’t, there’s no need for you to be walking her home.”

“Hey, man, I was just trying to be gentlemanly.”

Chat Noir swung his staff onto his other shoulder, and Marinette couldn’t help but laugh when the other boy flinched. “Gentlemen usually understand the definition of no. If the lady doesn’t want you walking her home, then you don’t get to walk her home. And you definitely don’t get to bother her for a phone number like you’re entitled to it.”

“I-I wasn’t bothering her —”

“Look, it’s really late. I’ve gotta get this lovely girl home to make sure more idiots like you don’t bother her, and then I’ve got a patrol to get to. So if you’re going to keep this up, you leave me no choice but to call the cops.” He shrunk his staff down into a baton and flipped open his phone. “I’ve got them on speed dial, so it really shouldn’t take more than a couple of minutes for them to show up.”

“Alright, alright!” the boy said. “I’m gone, I’m gone. Jesus…”

Chat Noir waited until the boy turned the corner before he placed his hands on Marinette’s shoulders and checked her over quickly. “Are you okay? He didn’t touch you or hurt you, did he?”

“Oh, not at all,” Marinette assured. “He was just talking and being weird. But thanks for coming to help me. He was getting a little irritating.”

“Why are you always so flippant about this stuff?” Chat Noir pouted. “My offer to go beat him up still stands.”

Marinette smiled and tapped the bell around his neck. “I already told you. You shouldn’t be assaulting civilians. That’s not great for your superhero look. And I’m not flippant, I’m just used to it I guess. When it happens all the time, it just becomes annoying and inconvenient at most. I’ve picked up tricks on how to deal with it in case valiant heroes can’t come to my rescue in time.”

Chat Noir didn’t look completely happy with the answer, but he nodded and jutted his chin down the block. “Do you still want me to walk you home?”

Marinette winced. “If you wouldn’t mind? I want to avoid any more excitement for the night.”

“I understand. You mind if we take the scenic route? I don’t want to delay you by dealing with people asking for autographs and pictures.”

Marinette nodded and squeezed his arm tight while they turned down a less crowded street and made their way back to Marinette’s neighborhood. She expected him to fill the time with chatter, but he seemed abnormally quiet. She leaned over and saw that he was frowning thoughtfully at the sidewalk, so she poked him in the cheek and tried to get him to look at her. “Is something wrong?”

Chat Noir shrugged. “It’s silly.”

“I’m sure it isn’t.”

“No, it is, because you don’t want to make a big deal out of it, and I want to respect that.”

“I mean, if there’s something bothering you I want you to tell me. We’re friends aren’t we?”

Chat Noir laughed and dipped his head. “Yeah. We’re friends.” He subconsciously pulled her closer and kept an eye on the road as they crossed the street. “I don’t know, it just really bothers me to know that random guys treat you like that. And I know you’re used to it, and you can handle it by yourself. I’m not trying to suggest you can’t take care of yourself. I just get really angry on your behalf because it’s just so disgusting to me.”

“I guess that explains your voicemail greeting.”

“I want to make sure they come bother me instead of you! I didn’t want you handing out the wrong number and then have them come find you all angry!”

“Is that what that was!?”

“Of course! I’m not doing this because I want to get into fights. I just want to make sure you’re safe. Trust me, I know how stupid guys act, and stupid guys who are embarrassed about getting rejected like that will come and bother you about it. I didn’t want that to happen to you.”

Marinette bit her lip and snuggled up to his side. “Is that why you’re so serious about this? And why you get annoyed when I’m not as serious?”

“I don’t mean to be all clingy and overprotective, I honestly don’t. But this isn’t the sort of thing you should have to put up with. I’m your friend, and if you have to lean on me for this sort of thing, I want you to. And you wouldn’t be a bother either! I’m sure Ladybug would understand if I explained it to her. It’d be like a side gig, separate from akuma fighting.”

It was such a sincere explanation that Marinette couldn’t help from laughing. “I’m sorry, I didn’t expect this to be so upsetting to you. I really can handle it on my own, but…I’ll admit, that boy from earlier was making me really uncomfortable. I was relieved when you showed up.”

Chat Noir leaned down and whispered in between them. “He can’t be more than a few blocks away, Marinette, I can go give him just a little scare — ”

“Leave him be,” Marinette smirked. “I’m serious, please don’t beat up any boys for me. But…well, if you’re fine with me giving out your number to pushy people and maybe calling you if I feel unsafe walking home…I guess I can keep your number saved.”

Chat Noir grinned. “That’ll make me feel a lot better, thank you.”

She patted his arm and added, “I do still think the voicemail greeting is too harsh.”

“Aw, let me keep it. It’s effective!”

“It’s scary!”

“It’s a gentle warning.”

“At least take out the bit about the fighting.”

“Fine, I’ll tone it down a little.”

Marinette beamed at him and kissed his shoulder. “Thank you.”

Chat Noir blinked down at her and coughed into his hand before keeping his gaze resolutely ahead. “Yeah! Cool! So, uh, anyway…you think I can sneak a couple of pastries for the trip home? I skipped lunch today and I’ve been craving some tartlets.”

“I’m sure I can find you something,” Marinette promised. “Consider it my thanks.”

Chat Noir’s ears wiggled in excitement. “You’re the best Marinette.”

“Hey there, this is Chat Noir. If you’re calling to ask for Marinette Dupain-Cheng, she’s asked me to very politely communicate to you that she’d rather not speak with you or see you any further. If this is a problem, she’s asked me to handle any and all complaints. That’s right. Me. Chat Noir. Defender of Paris. Let that sink in. Uh...yeah, so if you’re calling for me, I can’t come to the phone right now, so please leave a message and stay miraculous! Bye-bye!”