#it's not like i can just avoid them they're coming over for lunch. fuck this shit.

[ms-demeanor]

You posted about adhd and I was hoping to follow up to clarify something. I’ve explained to my partner a million times about how the borderline-hoarding mess of his space is very mentally draining to me, and he understands but we’ve both essentially accepted he won’t clean his mess because he can’t because of his adhd. You’re saying he’s actually being a shit head?

This isn't necessarily an issue of him being a shithead, but it also isn't a sustainable situation. It's not good for you and there's a level of clutter that's probably not good for him either.

Large bastard is a lot more clutter-y than I am. The solution we've come to is trying to keep our messes at least isolated from one another; he can have his messes and I can have mine, but he can have those messes in his spaces, not all over the place. Sometimes those messes migrate, and that's when it's important for him to make the effort to rein them in rather than trying and failing to make a daily effort to keep our entire shared space tidy.

I think when you say "we've both essentially accepted he won't clean his mess" what I'm hearing is resignation; you're not happy about this but you don't know what to do so you've thrown up your hands and he feels helpless and unsure of what to do to improve the situation. This is the kind of "it's fine" that isn't really fine.

I think it would be worthwhile for you to each separately think about the mess and talk about it together. Are there areas that YOU *need* to have not-messy? Both for utility and your mental health? Are there areas where you can tolerate more mess than otherwise? Are there areas that are going to be harder for him to keep the mess out of than others? Are there things he doesn't *know* about cleaning up the mess?

I'm obviously a big "communication communication communication" person so I'm going to recommend a lot of talking about stuff, which is probably going to mean a lot of thinking about and interrogating stuff. I'm going to say "talk to him about why the mess bothers you" which means you also have to really articulate to yourself why the mess bothers you (for instance I'm not actually *bothered* by a messy kitchen, but I know it's going to reflect badly on us - and me specifically b/c of presumed gender roles - if someone pops by and the kitchen is a disaster, AND a messy kitchen is going to be harder to use). Genuinely, sometimes knowing *why* something is a problem might make it easier for someone with ADHD to do something. And it's not that he doesn't care that it upsets you, it's just that "Oh if I don't wash my breakfast dishes Anon won't have clear counterspace to make lunch" might be stickier in his brain (and less hard to look at emotionally) than "this thing I forget to do upsets my partner so I should do it."

For the record, I think that people with ADHD should read up on Demand Avoidance and see if it might explain some of the issues that they have in their day-to-day life; I've seen some really unfortunate situations with friends where trying to do things that their partner needed became the subject of demand avoidance. *I* have experienced negative outcomes of demand avoidance. The solution to that, however, isn't to stop making attempts to do the thing OR to simply try harder to do as they're asked/told (which reinforces the demand), it's to work on setting up a situation where the partners' needs are not interpreted as a demand. This is fuck-off difficult and requires a lot of patience and care and many attempts to succeed and will be different for each person and relationship.

(Also for the record demand avoidance isn't *super* strongly linked to ADHD and it's not a definitive symptom; like Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria, it is something that occurs in some number of people with ADHD and can be a useful lens through which to examine various behaviors; you don't need to have DA or RSD to have ADHD, and having DA or RSD also doesn't invalidate your diagnosis; they're symptoms. For me, DA often feels like "if I don't look at it, it can't get me" - If I ignore all the messages I've got they aren't real and don't have real consequences so I'll just ignore my texts. If I don't look at the vendor email about the order, the problem with the order isn't real and it won't get added to my task list. If I don't look at the requests in my inbox I can't let people down when I don't do them. It's a self-protective coping mechanism but it's *maladaptive* and I can't just ignore the vendor email or all my texts. I need to work on a way of doing the stuff that I'm avoiding in a way that makes it less stressful and doesn't hurt the people relying on me. That takes a lot of effort, personal insight, trial and error, and )

But before I dive into specifics I want to be really really clear about one thing: sometimes people are simply incompatible. Sometimes one person has such a low tolerance for "mess" and the other person has such a high threshold for "mess" that it can't be reconciled. It sucks that this can end up being a thing that people break up over, but it is MUCH better to acknowledge incompatibility as early as possible instead of spending years and years building resentment.

There used to be a great forum called MiL's Anonymous that I spent a lot of time on. It had a lot of people in a lot of difficult situations struggling to get by and hold their relationships together. The question that was used as a litmus test to approach each situation was simple: If you knew today that everything about living with this person would be the same in five years, would you stay?

Because you can't control your partner. You can't control the future. You can only control yourself and your proximity to situations that are harmful to you. If you knew, 100%, that things wouldn't get better in five years, would you be okay with staying in this relationship? If the answer is "no," then that's that. Don't worry about questions of whether or not your boyfriend is a shithead, start the process of ending the relationship because there's a good chance the situation is going to be exactly the same in five years.

If the answer is "yes," and you'd stay in the relationship regardless of whether or not things changed, then it's time to take actions to improve your life within the context of the relationship.

(No judgement on that yes or no, btw. If you would hate living like this for another five years, and you would feel like you'd wasted your time and hadn't done the things you wanted to with your life, get out. Bail. Go. It will be better for you and better for your partner if you split instead of spending half a decade building resentments and and problems that you'll have to spend another half a decade healing from.)

Also, a note: you describe your boyfriend's mess as borderline hoarding - is the issue *mess* or is the issue *clutter*? I have friends who are very tidy, but whose homes are very cluttered. They like things, they have many things, they keep many things around, but their houses are always clean and well-dusted and orderly, just with a tremendous amount of *stuff.* I am addressing all of this as though the issue is mess, not clutter. If your boyfriend's situation is clutter (the space is busy and packed with things but it is functional and clean) and your issue isn't with *mess* (things out of place, things not having a place, things that need to be cleaned up gathering in stacks, falling behind on regular chores like laundry and dishes and taking out the trash) then you definitely need to assess whether or not you are compatible.

For instance here's a room that is messy but not cluttered compared to a room that is cluttered but not messy:

That first room is a *mess* but it would be very easy to clean up in under an hour. The second room is fairly tidy, but would take significant effort to pare down and declutter. BOTH of these can be difficult to live with but the second one is not dangerous or threatening to anyone's health. (The second one is QUITE cluttered and if every room in a house looks like this it can be overwhelming to live with; this is actually harder to deal with in a relationship than the first one in a lot of ways. I don't have a lot of advice for what to do if your partner is a high degree of tidy-but-cluttered because I don't actually think it's a problem or wrong to have thousands of books or bins full of lego or a million kitchen appliances as long as you have the space and can keep it safe and well-maintained; this is a really significant compatibility issue)

Okay, all that out of the way, here's the hard work.

Talk about this shit

Talk to your partner and define "mess." Make sure you are on the same page about what you mean when you're talking about what a messy room looks like versus what a tidy room looks like. Gather reference pictures. DRAW reference pictures.

Explain not just that the mess upsets you, but *why* and *how* it upsets you. In this context don't think of it as your boyfriend's mess, think of it as an unpleasant roommate. Discuss this using "I-statements". "When I have to pick up laundry all over the apartment, I feel like a parent more than a partner." "When there are piles of miniatures all over the table, I feel like I don't have anywhere to do things I'm interested in." "When there are dishes in the sink, I feel frustrated because I have to clean before I can feed myself."

Discuss, frankly and openly, whether he knows how to clean. I'm not trying to make excuses for him here but a lot of people with ADHD have a lot of stress and avoidance around cleaning because they spent a lot of time getting yelled at for not knowing how to clean properly.

Discuss your needs, be firm about what you require but willing to compromise. You *need* some spaces to be clean, and some spaces may be harder for him to keep clean than others. It may be MUCH harder for him to keep a bedroom tidy than it is to keep a kitchen tidy; if you need a clean and empty bedroom with everything put away and he simply cannot do that, that is a compatibility issue. But perhaps you need *your* side of the bedroom to be very orderly and can tolerate a moderate level of mess and clutter on his side. Maybe you're really really bothered by a messy kitchen, but it doesn't bug you if the dining table is covered with projects and papers. Figure out something more workable than "his mess goes everywhere and i live with it because he's incapable of cleaning" because he probably is not incapable of cleaning and you deserve to have places in your home that are comfortable for you.

Reduce friction for cleaning

Sometimes the problem isn't cleaning, the problem is the many many steps before cleaning, or not knowing where something should go when you are done cleaning. One of the absolute best things I've done for myself for cleaning my space is getting a broom holder and mounting the broom to the wall. Sweeping is now essentially thoughtless. I don't have to find the broom or pull it out from a pile of fans or go scrounging around for a dustpan it's right there on the wall, frictionless. So here are some ways to reduce the barriers to cleaning:

Make sure you and your partner both know how to use your cleaning supplies and know where those supplies are. When I switched dishwasher soap I had to re-show Large Bastard where I was storing it and how it was used, because to him what happened was the dishwasher tabs just vanished one day and he didn't know what I was putting in the machine or the process I used. He sometimes puts tools away in places that I can't see (he's more than a foot taller than me) so sometimes I can't get started on a maintenance project until he shows me where he put the battery pack for the drill.

Consider making a how-to chart to or having him make a how-to chart to keep someplace accessible so he can reference it while cleaning. Goblin.Tools Magic ToDo is great for this. Basically a lot of the time people with ADHD have trouble knowing what to do from step to step even if they've done something before, so having a step by step guide can make it easier (I have notebooks full of step-by-step guides for everything from paying for my tuition to removing licenses for my customers to weeding my yard)

Remove obstacles; don't keep cleaning chemicals in the garage in a box that's behind a stack of parts, keep them in the room you'll be cleaning. Don't keep the cleaning supplies that you use to clean the bathroom in the kitchen. Sometimes this means buying two bottles of bleach solution and two scrubbers and two sets of cleaning gloves but having fewer steps (fetch the windex, fetch the paper towels, fetch the gloves) is often the key to getting things done (open under-sink cabinet and grab windex, gloves, and paper towels that are there instead of in the kitchen).

This sort of overlaps with the next category, which is:

Create Dump Zones

One thing that I've found that seems very different between people with ADHD cleaning and neurotypical people cleaning is that neurotypical people are good at getting to a point where the cleaning is "done." They have checked off their tasks and they have finished and it is over. There are *SOME* chores that are like this (taking out the trash is a binary state, the trash has been taken out or it has not) and some chores are perpetual (horrid cursed dishes) but I think with people with ADHD, some chores that are binary for neurotypicals are actually perpetual chores. For instance "clean off the counter" is not a one and done for me. "Clean off the counter" may involve a three day reorganization project. "Clean off the counter" does not mean "wipe down the tile and put dishes away" it means assessing whether or not I need to make vegetable stock and bleaching three tea containers and reconsidering whether or not the sharps container should live somewhere else and going through the mail and figuring out what needs to be responded to and taking out the recycling and on and on and on.

We have had company at the house for the last two weeks, so I asked large bastard to clean off the dining room table, which is largely a project zone for him. Cleaning off the dining room table meant putting away his meds (and since he's a transplant patient that involves a 30 gallon rubbermade tote), throwing away some trash, and totally reorganizing his workshop. It also incidentally involved picking up a table from facebook marketplace and moving my plants, which has now involved moving my former plant rack outside (moving buckets, finding and organizing planters and gardening tools) and taking the former table to the thrift store (not done yet) and cleaning the rug that was under the former table. So "either the table is clean, or it isn't" isn't really true for us.

HOWEVER "hang on we can't eat until the table is clear so let's drive to Pico Rivera to get that console table right now" isn't a workable plan, so you create dumpzones as areas of holding between the start and the finish of the chore.

A dump zone can be a laundry basket. It can be a craft bin. It can be a back room or under your bed. It is a place to put things that you are going to deal with later because if you deal with them now it is going to derail the thing you are actually trying to do, which is set the table for dinner.

Dump zones are vital to cleaning with ADHD and I recommend them for day-to-day cleaning as well. The day-to-day dump zones might be more for you than for your boyfriend. For instance, Large Bastard works with bullets and he sheds bullets all over the house. I used to get stressed when I found bullets when I was cleaning because are these work bullets? Are these recreational bullets? Are they in testing? Do they need to be pulled? Do they go in the workshop or the office or the garage or does he need these today so they have to stay on the counter? And the answer now is "that's not my problem naughty bullets go in the jar." Which is perfectly sensible because he gets to say "mystery yarn goes in the bin" and "art supplies go in the bucket."

I feel helpless when cleaning a lot of the time. I'm frustrated and lost and I don't know where stuff goes and everything I pick up spins off into three projects in my head and every step feels like a wall to scale. Dump zones help me with that when there's pressure or a reason for cleaning beyond day to day home maintenance. People are coming over? The bedroom is a dump zone, I'll deal with that later. I'm just cleaning up because I need to? Okay I can find a permanent home for this new dish soap.

AS A VERY IMPORTANT COROLLARY TO THIS:

Active projects do not go in dump zones while you or your partner are cleaning. This may mean designating a project sanctuary area like a corner of the table or one particular chair in your main room where a project can be placed so as not to be disturbed. (if my current crochet project ends up in the yarn bin, that may mean that I don't pick the project up for another three months, it lives on the windowsill behind the couch because that's where it'll get worked on)

Do not put things away for your partner, put them in the dump zone for your partner. Your partner has to be the one to put their own stuff away in a way that works for them. I tend to find that this naturally puts a limit on the time stuff sits in the dump zone, because eventually you'll go "hey where's my thing?" and will put stuff away. If that doesn't happen, it's still generally better to have stuff in a dump zone than all over the home.

Do not decide you know what things go together from your partner's stuff and try to "put like things together." The neurotypical urge to put like things together is the mindkiller(j/k). You do not know which things are "similar" in your partner's organization schema and attempting to organize things on your own is going to end up with all of the things "organized" being functionally lost forever from your partner's perspective. Large Bastard's mom would do this and it was infuriating, she'd say "oh I put all the electronics stuff in one box" and she would mean soldering irons, transistors, ham radios, HDMI cables, and cellphone chargers. We are *still* going through boxes of stuff that she "tidied up" when he was hospitalized in 2020 and 2021.

To prevent the need for quite so many dump zones over time, you can work on setting up landing zones and "homes" for projects and tools.

Landing Zones

Landing zones are places where things go when you come inside from doing various things. Sometimes your landing zone only needs to be a tray for your wallet and keys, sometimes your landing zone needs to be a place to take off muddy boots and put a trowel and gloves down before you shower.

To make an effective landing zone, consider what behaviors you're trying to minimize and whether the people using it are ACTUALLY going to use it. For instance I was tired of the corner of my hearth getting cluttered with random junk so I hung up some hooks and put a shelf and a basket there and it became a really effective landing zone for my bag and keys and the mail, but it was VERY ineffective for Large Bastard because it's by a door that isn't the primary door he uses to enter the house. As a result I always know where my keys and bag are but he has trouble finding his keys and wallet. He tends to enter the house through our bedroom and has an overloaded valet next to the door and that's usually where his wallet ends up. Mounting a shelf to the wall above the valet and putting a basket and a hook on it will be a better place for his stuff to land. It's not that he's not using the first zone because he doesn't know that it's there, or because he doesn't care about lost time when I'm searching for my car keys after he borrows them, he's not using it because it's not by the door he uses. That's all.

I have a landing space for when I come in for gardening that's different than the one when I come in from grocery shopping. I have a landing space for when I walk into the dining room instead of the kitchen when I get home.

Landing spaces prevent stuff from piling up all over the place because they are a limited functional space that should be used frequently. Mail ONLY goes in the landing zone. If you have mystery mail or if you're not sure it's safe to toss, you put it in the landing zone. You can't let the mail get piled up too high or you won't have a space for your keys. You can't let the change in your wallet tray get too deep or your wallet is going to slide off, etc., but you also don't just put change on the coffee table or your nightstand because the landing zone is right there.

Homes for items are just what they sound like. They're the place the item goes. It lives there. My meds live on my nightstand. You would not believe how poorly I did with taking my meds on my vacation because they weren't on my nightstand. A while back large bastard lost one of his sets of sorted meds and we tore the house up looking for them because he couldn't find them in his nightstand, which is where they live. *I* found them in his nightstand because I emptied out the entire top drawer (he had only looked on the top layer) and found them underneath a radio and a hammock. Even though they were *hidden* they were in their home, so they were findable. I recently needed ink for an art class. Art supplies live in a dresser by my desk. Ink lives in the art bin or the top left drawer. The ink was not in either of these places (it was on a cabinet in the dining room behind a teacup) so it took me weeks to find it.

Sometimes the reason that ADHD spaces are so messy is because objects have been assigned homes in places that are visible and if they get moved they get lost. This is a genuinely difficult problem that requires a lot of effort to solve and can involve a lot of trial and error for creating a tidy living space. For some people, open shelving and visible storage might be a good solution. For some people, assigning a VERY clear home and inculcating that location by habit is the only way to clean up a space. For some people one very cluttered corner to at least isolate the chaos does the trick (for me and large bastard open shelving doesn't work because anything in one place for too long becomes invisible; that means that I rely on assigning things homes and large bastard relies on having contained chaos and a general idea of where to search but what that DOES NOT mean is that he is clean or tidy. His spaces look like an explosion. But he can mostly find his stuff and do what he needs to do and as long as that's limited to specific places in shared spaces I can live with it; the dining room table can be a disaster, the kitchen cannot).

People organize things differently. It often takes a while for neurotypical adults to settle into an organizational style that works for them and ADHD adults may need to settle into a new system every few months for it to continue working. The cleanup and declutter is most likely going to be a permanent project that is always going to demand some level of attention from everyone in a shared space, but "my ADHD means I can't do it" is not really going to fly. Maybe his ADHD means that he can't keep his space tidy, but it doesn't mean you can't move stuff from shared spaces into dump zones or that he can't do stuff around the house.

If he's insisting that his ADHD means that he can't clean it is possible that he's not being a shithead, he just feels helpless and doesn't know where to start and has adopted the belief that he's a useless piece of shit who can't even keep a tidy space like a grownup because he's internalized a lot of shitty attitudes (hello, my internal monologue about keeping a clean house). But it's also possible that he's just being a shithead.

It's something that's worthwhile to investigate with him. If he's unwilling to make an attempt, then he's being a shithead.

It is also not your responsibility to rehabilitate another person. If he wants to clean and it's something he feels bad about and needs some help and support with the way that someone might need help or support for learning to use a mobility aid, that is fine but you don't have to be the one who gives him that support if it's detrimental to your health, and you don't have to be the one to teach him that stuff if it's not something you're capable of. And if he is NOT interested in working on making your shared living space more accessible for you, that is not your suitcase to unpack and you just have to ask yourself the question from the start: would I stay with this person if I knew the situation was never going to change?

IDK, I'm sure a lot of this reads like "anon you must take on the emotional labor of training your partner to be an adult" but it's really meant to be more of a way of assessing yourself and your relationship. If you created landing zones do you think he'd use them? Would he get angry if you assigned a laundry basket as a dump zone for his stuff while you tidy the living room? Is living with him long-term going to be comfortable for you if nothing changes? Do you have enough of a shared definition of "mess" that you're at least in the ballpark for what counts as a clean house?

anyway good luck, and a reminder to folks that I'm compiling a bunch of adhd resources and other information on my personal website, ms-demeanor.com. It's coming along slowly but it will eventually include stuff like ADHD cleaning tips and how to tackle a hoard, so maybe keep your eye on that space.

[unholyhelbig]

More Wandanat pls 😊

Title: Are you Avoiding me?

Ship: Female!Reader x Natasha Romanoff x Wanda Maximoff

Word Count: 2935

Warnings: pet names, sexual situations implied, broken glass, and horrible spelling (I don't proofread).

Summary: It's becoming harder and harder for reader to avoid both Natasha Romanoff and Wanda Maximoff. Things only get worse when they're cornered in their lab.

[A/n: This is just a little drabble, that's been sitting in my drafts for months, nothing with too much sustinance! I've been distracting myself lately with Wenclair content instead of writing]

Main Masterlist | Read my stuff on AO3 | Leave Requests

There were thousands of mugs with Shield’s logo on the side that floated around the compound, changing hands between agents and the high-ranking Avengers. It’s why you felt less bad about dropping the one in your grasp to the floor. It shattered into dozens of pieces, and the rest of the pale coffee you were drinking seeped out of the wreckage.

“Ow! Why? Why?” Clint’s voice had turned to a growl by the end of his sentence. He had righted himself and gripped his own mug to his chest, leveling you with a glare that was much too vicious this early in the morning.

The words were trapped in your throat and you dropped down behind the kitchen island, pressing yourself close enough to the wood to become apart of the grain. If you could just hide long enough for them to wander away, then all would be well.

The archer glanced down at you, and then back to the hallway that passed the communal kitchen. Natasha Romanoff had her brow furrowed, lifting a sculped eyebrow at him. She had just come back from her morning run, a fine sheen of sweat coating her muscles. He gave her a shrug and that was enough encouragement to send her on her way.

You let out a long sigh at the sound of her footsteps retreating. “Don’t look at me like that, Barton.”

“I can look at you anyway I want to, you’re the one that would rather be on the ground than talk to Natasha.”

It wasn’t just talking to Natasha. It was looking at her too; breathing the same air as her, meeting her fern-colored eyes across the room and ceasing to have a tangible thought pattern. You were an Avenger, for fucks sake, an ex-KGB spy shouldn’t make you fumble the way that you did.

“It’s not that hard, y/n. She’s harmless, really.”

That was easy for him to say. You huffed quietly and picked up the broken pieces of mug before depositing them into the trashcan. Coffee would make you too jittery anyway. So, if you really thought about it, your nerves had done you a favor.

“She’s terrifying.” You said, reaching for an empty glass. You filled it up with tap water and tentatively took a sip. It went down clunky and cold. “And gorgeous.”

“A combination that renders you absolutely useless.”

“I wouldn’t say that.”

Clint lifted both of his eyebrows at you, not saying a word. He didn’t have to. And you didn’t need all of this judgement from him in the first place. He had been so scared of Natasha that he couldn’t bring her in, in the first place. He would tell it differently, but you didn’t stick around to find out.

There were other things that you had to do; like a mountain of paperwork and a few modifications to the Vibranium arm that had found its way onto your desk. A cold shower wouldn’t do you any harm either. And if your fingers were to wander? No one would know.

You flashed him the middle finger, abandoning all thoughts of nourishment for the day. Tony kept his labs stocked with bottled water and granola bars after some nagging from Pepper. That would hold you over until lunch and if you started to drift, there were plenty of electrical sources that would give you a low-grade jolt.

Most of the time, you kept your head down, earbuds in even if they weren’t playing music. It was easier not to get caught up in the fanfare of the Avengers. Most of them were human, and they made human mistakes even if they weren’t.

You answered your superiors and fixed any problems that arose with tech and machinery, sometimes even costuming. Those things were simple, cut and dry. Your feelings for Natasha Romanoff and Wanda Maximoff weren’t even slightly that.

There was admiration from afar, and Clint would even say a numbness that clouded your brain completely. That celebrity that all other agents produced around any of the spandex wearing heroes often evaded you.

But each time Wanda stepped through the doors of your lab to get a personal watch fixed, or once, a VHS player that had the scent of smoke and burning plastic. She’d jutted out her lower lip when a copy of ‘I Love Lucy’ was burnt to a crisp.

Despite your meager salary, you had found one at the thrift and set it outside her door without a word. Not a romantic gesture, Clint. You should have seen her face. It was something you’d do as a friend, a co-worker.

Your shoulder collided with something strong, yet soft. There was a small grunt released from the back of your throat. You got a mouthful of the scent of rain and vanilla tobacco. But strong hands were suddenly gripping your forearms, keeping you steady.

Your eyes widened and met with curious hazel ones. You thought you gave Natasha enough time to get back to her room. But here she was, in that tight tank top, sweat drenching the collar. She looked beautiful, the lights overhead hitting her.

Agent Romanoff reached up and pulled one of your earbuds out, letting it hang loose against your chest. “Doctor y/l/n, are you avoiding me?”

“Avoiding?” You laughed with a little too much force, compensating for the lost air by snorting and instantly regretting it. A light blush fell over your cheeks. She didn’t look mad, in fact, she looked quite amused. “No, no. I’m not avoiding.”

“So, what would you call ducking down behind the counter in the kitchen?”

“How did you…”

“I’m a superspy and you’re not exactly subtle.”

Yeah. You’d forgotten about that. She didn’t’ allude to the fact, simply continuing on her way and leaving you to your horrible conversation with Clint. But then she had waited in front of your lab, her own clearance not allowing her past the sliding doors without you in it.

She lilted her head to the side “Don’t worry about it, it’s actually rather adorable.”

The heat against your cheeks started to spread down your neck and to your collarbone. If she noticed, and of course she noticed, she didn’t’ say anything. But she released her hold, and you fought back a whimper of disappointment.

“What can I do for you, Agent Romanoff?”

“Us, actually.” She responded, eyes darting towards the locked doors. “I’d rather talk somewhere a bit more private, if that’s alright.”

“Yeah, yeah, absolutely that’s alight. If this is about the Widow Bites that I redesigned then I can most definitely tweak them. We don’t want you to get a jolt every time you use them. Not that I’m saying you’re not skilled enough to avoid that,”

You kept talking as you swiped your card and it with a beep, walking into the instant familiarity of your lab. There was a coolness there for tactical purposes, but it washed over your heated skin and hopefully took some of the soft color away.

You started to flit around the lab, flicking on all the lights and the different purifiers. There was an experiment that Fitz was working on that needed a rotating heat source and that was turned on as well.

“If we remove the outer panel and with a little tweaking, we can make them non-lethal, heavy with stopping power. They can break up under the sub-cutaneous tissue-“

Again, you ran into Natasha. Her body was so warm and solid, stable compared to the way you buzzed about. The door had slid shut behind you, its frosted glass exterior shielding you from the rest of the world.

This time you didn’t’ rush to apologize, instead you pushed your glasses up to the center of your nose and stared at her in a comfortable silence. “This wasn’t about your widow bites. You said us.”

She nodded at you, suddenly seeming quite shy herself. You’d never seen her avert her gaze before and something about the reaction worried you. Your stomach was doing somersaults, flipping back and forth between pure panic and excitement. This was the longest you two had spent in one another’s space without you bolting from the room.

“For the past six months I’ve been involved in a sexual relationship with Wanda Maximoff.”

“Uh,”

It was the only word that you could muster. Thoughts that flushed your cheeks all over again ran through your mind; bare breasts pressed against each other, lips hungrily clashing, hands raking up perfectly toned muscles. Your eyes were hazy with lust, but you blinked it away just as fast as it had settled. Natasha ghosted a smirk regardless.

“It was purely sexual, we both needed to blow off some steam. I’m sure you know how that is.”

On nights when you needed to ‘blow off steam’, you went into the empty training room and ran for six miles before taking a stark cold shower to loosen your muscles. When you ran, you forgot about the dip of Natasha’s collarbone and the dexterity of Wanda’s fingers.

Now that you thought about it, there were signs that the two of them had something and why shouldn’t they? Subtle touches that led to more. The tenderness in Natasha’s eyes betrayed more. If she hadn’t noticed yet, you weren’t going to be the one to tell her.

“It was fun for a while, a supply closet here, the gym floor there. But going on month seven it’s almost losing its… spark.”

“I’m sorry?” You were cautious with your words, and she giggled, the Black Widow herself was giggling at you.

“I’m not so good at this.”

“You’re good at everything.”

She smiled “Wanda insisted that I come and talk to you first because you’re skittish. Moreso around her than me. She was upset when I told her you let me stay the afternoon in here last week, just watching you work.” 

Each move you made that day was languid. There was a nervousness to you that seemed to vanish when you could open up the back of a monitor and stare at the innerworkings. You were recruited right out of MIT, and though you had been offered more than one job, you jumped at the idea of working in the Stark tower, living here.

She worked her hand through her hair and sighed “see, not so good at this.”

“What exactly is this?”

Natasha furrowed her brow and a small crease formed between her eyebrows in response. You wanted to reach up and smooth it away with the subtle touch of your thumb. That part wasn’t complicated, not like people usually were.

So, you did just that, you touched the pad of your finger to her soft, warm skin and pressed until the tension started to leave her body. Natasha’s fingers wrapped around your wrist and moved your hand until you cupped her cheek. She sighed into the embrace; eyes closed for more than a single moment.

“I want you, y/n.” She mumbled against the palm of your hand, turning it to the side and delivering a single kiss to the pulse point on your wrist. You were sure that she could feel the quickness in which it thrummed. “So does Wanda.”

You were dizzy, suddenly glad for her hold on you. Months, close to a year, you had spent ducking behind counters and taking the long way back to your dorm. They were both stunning to an intimidating degree, to the point where it devastated you.

“Say something, please” Natasha whispered, voice breaking “I know this is a lot and you can absolutely decline. We can forget this conversation ever happened and you can go back to breaking coffee mugs.”

“No! I mean, no. I don’t want to go back to breaking coffee mugs. I think Clint is running a tab, and Mr. Stark isn’t exactly generous with our salaries.”

A grin spread across Natasha’s face. It was like being wrapped in a warm towel after a long day in the rain. You’d do anything to make her smile. You were in down bad, not that you’d admit it to Bird Boy.

She tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “Can I kiss you?”

You nodded, not trusting your ability to vocalize anything right now. Her lips were on yours, soft and tender. She kissed you slowly, with purpose. The two of you savored the moment, a sigh of extasy escaping you, your arms winding around her shoulders, hers pressing against your spine.

Natasha broke the embrace, staring hazily at you. That cocky smile had turned into a wonderstruck and borderline goofy one. Have you broken the superspy? She’d certainly made you waver. You were effectively rendered silent.

“Oh, sweet girl, how easy it is to fluster you.” Natasha pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. “But I fear that a certain witch is lurking just close enough for you to open the door.”

It slid open on its own with a dejected beep. You glanced down at the pocket of your lab coat, badge still attached. A small pout made its way to your lips but softened when Wanda stalked into the mostly empty lab, you felt your defenses lower.

The remnants of red twirled around her fingers- and god, you didn’t mean to stare, but they held a power to them. With Natasha slotted against your body, the primal scent of her, you couldn’t stop your mind from wandering. Oh, how good they’d feel on your tongue.

A pink blush crept up her collarbone and at the tips of her ears. Wanda raised a perfectly sculpted brow at you. There was no doubt in your mind that your thoughts were loud enough for her to hear them. And somehow, you didn’t mind one bit. You’d never imagine being this bold with either of them, but the kiss with Natasha had left you heady, greedy for more.

“Have you been able to do that the whole time?” You panted out, watching the door slide shut once more.

“Well, yes. But I respect your privacy… to an extent. You have quite the dirty mind, don’t you?”

“I… you… no!”

You pulled away from Natasha, crossing your arms over your chest. If you weren’t careful, your glasses would fog up just by being in the same vicinity as them both. Sure, there had been a few times where you’d let your mind wander; images of Wanda shoving you against the wall, pinning your arms above your head.

Natasha taking you over the lab table that you made sure was meticulous in every single way each night before you left. The thought of them taking control was alluring, tantalizing. You thought all the time, too much about every move you made. You didn’t want to admit that you’d welcome not thinking at all, even if it was only for a few moments.

“You’re a terrible liar.” Wanda soothed.

“That’s why Stark keeps me in the basement.”

She’d gotten impossibly close. You could smell the lavender shampoo that often accompanied her. They were both taller than you, though, not by much. Your breath still hitched in your throat at her proximity. Wanda tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, lilting her head to the side in a way that made your knees feel unstable.

“Is this okay?”

You nodded, and a smile moved across her lips. “You need to use your words, sweetheart.”

“Oh, don’t be mean, Wanda.” Natasha wrapped her arms around your midsection, resting her chin against your shoulder. You felt the incredible warmth she provided, nearly sighing into it. “This is a lot to take in. Baby steps.”

You couldn’t tell which of the two held more control over the situation, but didn’t much care when you felt Wanda’s breath hot against your lips. She closed the distance and you kissed until it stung, until your lungs were begging for air. A desperate noise that you had never made before escaped you when she broke the embrace.

All the while, the calloused pads of Natasha’s fingers were running softly over the expanse of skin between your waistband and shirt. Her touch was so delicate and impossibly warm compared to the coolness of the lab.

Natasha hugged you closer, and you allowed her to. Everything about both women surrounding you screamed control. The darkness that settled over Wanda’s stare made a wetness pool between your thighs. You squeezed them together in an attempt of subtly.

It was like fooling a seer. They could read your body like an open book and you clenched your eyes shut but could still feel the grin that stretched across Natasha’s face in the crook of your neck. It would be so easy to give up control to them.

“Does anyone else have the key to your lab?” Wanda purred, her hand splayed on your chest in a startling grounding motion. Your eyes snapped open, hazy with lust.

You were breathless, stunned. “Just you.”

Wanda’s head tilted, her tongue darting out against her bottom lip. Chills pushed down your spine, Natasha’s hold tightening around your center. You were sure that you’d catch flame right there and wake up from this dream. But neither of them vanished when you blinked.

“Good. What’s your safe word, darling?”

Natasha’s grin was nothing short of wolfish. She squeezed both of your hips possessively, hauling you with a spy’s quickness onto the nearest counter. You nudged a white mug with a SHIELD logo on the front. It fell to the floor, shattered into a million different pieces.

 None of that seemed to matter.

[wzrd-wheezes]

The Engagement Arrangement - Sirius Black x Reader/James Potter x Reader.

Hey!!! Can I request an arranged engagement with James because they grew up in wealthy families and they're close friends but as she gets to know the boys better Sirius falls in love with her? Mutual pining with obstacles with be the death of me.

AN: after actual months of writing this fic, it's finally finished. I posted the first part of it months ago but decided to finish the fic and repost it as a complete work. i'm so fucking proud of this and i really hope you enjoy it. this is the longest thing i've ever written so please please please give it a reblog and let me know what you think. ily <3

Contains: some angst, a lot of fluff, pining, swearing and just general good times haha. enjoy!

9k words

The engine of the car hummed quietly causing the window to vibrate as Y/N rested her head against the glass. She fiddled with the hem of her dress as she gazed out of the window, the trees a blur of red and orange as they whizzed past. 

“Will you stop fiddling with your dress!” Y/N’s mother snapped, whipping her head around to glare at her daughter, “I won’t have you at the Potter’s house with your dress all creased, what will they think of us!?” 

Y/N only murmured in response, barely paying attention to her mother’s nagging as she smoothed her dress out. The car pulled to a stop on the gravel driveway outside of the Potter’s manor. The autumn sunlight beat down on the vast lawns and bounced off of the ornate windows, casting patterns on the driveway. She sighed as she got out of the car, mentally preparing herself for the afternoon at the Potter’s.  

Coming to the Potter’s house for lunch wasn’t a frequent occurrence, yet every time their car pulled up outside, Y/N filled with dread. The lunches were alarmingly boring with her parents talking tirelessly with Mr and Mrs Potter. The Potter’s had a son, who Y/N was yet to meet as he attended a boarding school. Y/N’s mother had explained to her that James had been sent to boarding school as he was rather unruly, and they were trying to get him to settle down. However, now that he, like Y/N was 18, had finished school and returned home. 

Mrs Potter greeted them graciously at the front door, giving her parents a hug and Y/N a squeeze on the shoulder. She led them into the sitting room and began to bustle around making tea. Y/N perched on the edge of the sofa, trying to avoid crumpling her dress and infuriating her mother again. Just as she had done in the car, Y/N stared out of the window, her eyes drifting over the garden that seemed to sprawl for miles. Leaves floated down from the trees, landing in a pile on the floor before being dispersed by the soft breeze.  

“Nice of you to finally join us, Son.” Mr Potter spoke, easy smile resting on his face. Y/N was pulled out of her daydream, her eyes darting towards the door where a young man was standing, leaning lazily against the door frame. His hands were tucked into the pockets of his slacks, the top button of his shirt undone and his dark curls falling messily into his eyes. 

“Mr and Mrs L/N.” he nodded, “Nice to see you both again.” 

“Ah, James.” Y/N’s father exclaimed, “It’s been a while! You must have grown a good few feet taller since we last saw you.” 

“My career as a dwarf never really took off so I decided to just let it go.” James joked, earning himself a disapproving look from both of his parents. 

“James,” Y/N’s mother swiftly interjected, “You haven’t met our daughter, Y/N. She’s just finished school as well. I’m sure you’ll both get along well.” 

“Nice to meet you,” James grinned, stepping into the room and shaking Y/N’s hand. Y/N just smiled back at him, unsure of what to say. Her mother harshly nudged her leg, urging her to reply. 

“Yeah. You as well.” 

James plonked himself in the armchair in front of the window that Y/N was previously looking out of. She frowned slightly, annoyed that he was obstructing not only the view but also the distraction from the torturously boring conversation that their parents were having. The two teenagers sat silently, every so often glancing up at each other. One time, James rolled his eyes and mimed putting a gun to his head, Y/N had to try her best to stifle a laugh. Clearly, she didn’t try hard enough as she was shot another one of her mother’s infamous disapproving looks. 

“James, dear, why don’t you go and show Y/N around the gardens while we talk? We have some important business to discuss, and it will be terribly boring for you both.” James’ mother suggested. Y/N let out a sigh of relief and eagerly stood up, grabbing her jacket from the coat stand. 

For the first few moments, they didn’t speak a word to each other, just silently making their way through the hall towards the large front door, buttoning up their coats as they walked. It was only when they were out of earshot that James finally spoke. 

“I didn’t think it was possible to die of boredom, but I genuinely think I was close.” He said dramatically.  

“We were only sat in there for half an hour.” Y/N said, raising an eyebrow at him.  

“Yet it felt like an eternity.” 

James pushed open the front door and they were greeted by the crisp autumn air. Their breaths clouded in the chill, damp air and they both wrapped their coats a little tighter around themselves.  

“What d’you reckon they’re talking about?” Y/N asked, “What’s so important that we can’t be there to hear them discuss it?” James shrugged, staring up at the cloudless sky. 

“Who knows? Probably just boring adult stuff. I tend to just tune it out whenever they start speaking.” Despite his nonchalant response, there was a hint of wistfulness in his expression. It was almost as if the thought of having a genuine adult conversation with his parents seemed utterly foreign and unappealing to him. 

“They’re probably just sat moaning about us.” Y/N laughed, “That’s what adults do when they get together, isn’t it? Moan about their children?” 

“Nah, not my mum and dad. They genuinely think the sun shines out of my arse.” James chuckled. 

“Didn’t they ship you off to boarding school because you were too ‘unruly’” Y/N said, making air quotes with her fingers. James’ cheeks flushed at her comment and he let out an awkward chuckle. 

“Yeah, that was a bit of an exaggeration on mum and dad’s behalf. They made it sound like I was some feral child. In reality, I was just a normal kid who liked to have fun.” 

Y/N felt a bit guilty for poking fun at him about the boarding school ordeal. It seemed to be a bit of a sore spot for him, despite how flippantly he brushed it off. 

“They didn’t have to be so dramatic,” James continued, “But it’s all in the past now. I’m back home and everything’s fine,” He shrugged, the smile returning to his face. Y/N wasn’t quite so sure how accurate that statement one. 

They chatted as they walked through the gardens, comparing their school experiences, talking about their upbringings and their parents. Y/N felt sad that James had been away for the majority of their childhood, it would have made the many dinners with their parents a lot less painful if she had had someone her own age there to speak to.  

 The more time that Y/N spent in James’s company, the more she realised just how much they had in common. They had similar senses of humour, enjoyed engaging in sarcastic banter and had a mutual disdain for the social niceties that dominated their families’ get-together. For his part, James enjoyed speaking with Y/N as well. Unlike with the adults in his life, he didn’t have to keep up an exhausting façade. He could be frank with her and didn’t have to worry about offending her with his snarky wit. 

The conversation turned back to the topic of their schooling. Y/N described her school life and her friends, while James told stories of pranking students and teacher alike, and generally being a nuisance. James had a twinkle in his eye as he recounted some of his more mischievous antics. It was clear that he had no regrets and was, in fact, quite proud of all the trouble he had gotten into over the years.  

“I’m pretty sure I was on my last chance before they got rid of me,” he admitted as they walked back to the house, “In our final year, my friends and I were planning to pull a big stunt during exam week, it would have definitely gotten us kicked out. Only, my friend Peter ended up talking us out of it in the end. Probably for the best.” As he finished speaking a hint of regret crossed his face. 

When they finally returned to the house, having been gone a good hour or so, they found their parents still sat in the same spot they were in before they had left. It looked as though time had stood still while they were outside. 

“Ah, there you two are! We were just about to send someone out to find you! We really need to talk to you both, if you wouldn’t mind sitting down for a moment.” Mrs Potter smiled. James sighed inwardly and shot Y/N an apologetic look. Just when he had been enjoying himself, their parents’ demands had sent him back to reality.  

“We’ve been discussing the future,” Y/N’s father began, “And now you have both finished school we believe it’s time to start making preparations for the future.”  

Y/N and James both leaned forward in their chairs, intrigued by what their parents had to say. James let out a nervous chuckle, not sure what Y/N’s father meant by that.  

“Preparations for the future?” he repeated, turning to look at his own father, “What do you mean? Like, getting involved in the family business or something?” 

“Not particularly.” James’s father said. 

“You’re both intelligent, young individuals with bright futures ahead of you. The pair of you both come from good families, and we think it’s time that the two of you started settling down.” Y/N’s mother explained. 

Both Y/N and James sat there in stunned silence, their minds racing to try and figure out exactly what their parents were talking about.  

“You’re not saying what I think you’re saying, are you?” James asked, not wanting to believe it, “You’re seriously suggesting that at the ripe old age of 18, we get married to each other?” The words were out of his mouth before he had even fully formed the thought. 

“That’s ridiculous!” Y/N exclaimed, “You can’t just arrange our romance like we’re some sort of commodity. That’s absurd!”  The notion of being forced into a relationship with James with utterly foreign to her, especially since they had only met mere hours ago. Mrs Potter looked at them both with a stern expression. 

“This isn’t something that we’ve considered lightly.” she said, in a tone that left no room for argument, “We believe that the two of you will make a wonderful couple, and with time may even grow to love each other.” 

“There is much more than that to our proposal,” James’s father said solemnly, “It’s not just about romance. In this particular case, settling down is more about stability.” 

James and Y/N just stared at each other, feeling the full weight of their parents’ decision bearing down on their shoulders.  

“But what about what we want?” James snapped, gesturing to the two of them. 

“At the end of the day, this isn’t about what you want.” Mr Potter shook his head, “This is about your families and their futures, not just your own selfish desires.” 

The statement hit both of them hard, and for a moment, the two teenagers were completely stunned. Their own family was more important than their own happiness, their own dreams. The harsh reality of their situation slowly began to sink in, and the weight out the responsibility felt nearly too heavy for them to bear. 

James paced back and forth across his spacious bedroom, seemingly unable to settle in one place. His fists were clenched tightly at his sides as he tried to wrestle with the situation that they had been forced into. Y/N was watching him, lounged on the edge of his bed with a mug of tea in her hand. 

It had been a few days since their parents had broken the news to them and they had since decided that it would be a good idea for Y/N to move in with the Potter’s. It was as if her parents couldn’t wait to get her out quick enough and had all of her things boxed up in a matter of hours. 

“What do you think of all this?” he finally asked, stopping in front of her. She raised an eyebrow, taking a sip of her drink. 

“Are you joking?” she scoffed, “You have to be joking. ‘Settling down’. Are you serious?” She sat so that she was upright, putting her mug down on the bedside table.  

“Are our parents mad? Have they actually lost it? Who proposes something like that to teenagers these days?” She could barely hide her incredulity. 

James sighed, feeling like his head was going to explode from a sudden rush of confusion and emotions. It felt so surreal, like this was some kind of elaborate joke that their parents were just waiting to reveal the punchline of.  

“I mean, you seem great and all and sure, we get along well enough, but is that really a solid basis for deciding to spend the rest of our lives together?” He raked a hand through his unruly hair. In his mind, there was no possible way they could make this situation work. 

“If it wasn’t so ridiculous, it would be hilariously tragic,” she sighed, rubbing her eyes in an attempt to ease the onset of a headache. 

“My friends are supposed to be visiting for a few weeks.” James said, sitting down on his bed, “I suppose they’ll make me cancel now you’re here. Y’know, with them wanting us to spend time together and all.” 

Y/N shook her head, feeling a surge of sympathy for James. He’d mentioned earlier how much he was looking forward to seeing his friends again and she couldn’t help but imagine how disappointed he would be if he had to cancel on them.  

“That’s a pain.” she said, “If it was up to me, I’d leave you alone to do whatever you like. I mean, fuck it, why not just let them come over anyway? If we’re getting married then I’m going to have to meet your friends eventually.” a sort of half-smile crossed her face as she looked at James. 

“Really?” he asked, turning to face her, “You wouldn’t mind if they still came over?” 

“Not at all!” 

“Wicked.” James grinned, “I’ll have to try and convince mum now.” 

Somehow, James managed to convince his mother to allow his friends to stay and they arrived a few days later. w fresh faces around. The two boys bounded down the driveway and tackled James into a somewhat clumsy hug, lanky adolescent limbs all over the place. James laughed and greeted his friends fondly.  

“So, this is the future wife then?” one of James’s friends grinned as he introduced them, “I’m Sirius. Pleasure to meet you. I’m sorry that you have to marry this prat.” 

“Not as sorry as I am.” Y/N mused. Sirius was just as tall as James but had a slightly more slender build. His dark hair falling straight down to his jawline, unlike James’s messy curls.   

“It’s a rough deal, I’ll admit.” The other one said. He was taller than both James and Sirius and awkwardly held a hand out for Y/N to shake as he introduced himself, “I’m Remus, by the way.” 

“Thanks for the condolences.” she laughed, “I’m Y/N.” 

James seemed to loosen up a bit now that his friends were here. Y/N had barely seen him smile the last few days. He’d spent the majority of his time moping around the house trying to come up with a plan to get them both out of this mess. 

They decided to go and explore the surrounding countryside, the boys were keen to show Y/N the places that they had gone when they were growing up. James had said he felt too cooped up in the house, like they were constantly being watched by his parents and was eager to get out.  

They meandered around the grounds of Potter Manor, the boys occasionally sharing anecdotes about the summers that they used to spend at the Potter’s. Sirius pointed out the tree that James fell from when he broke his arm when he they were 12. The boys all looked at it fondly like it was one of the seven wonders of the world.   

Sirius and Remus, much like James, were charming and playful and Y/N was pleased with how well they managed to mesh with her sense of humour. She realised, over the course of the afternoon, that Sirius had a particular way of speaking that made her heart flutter. There was something about it, deep, silky and rich like melted chocolate. A certain kind of gentleness to the way his voice carried that felt like he could make whoever he was speaking to feel as if they were the centre of his attention.  Y/N felt a pang of guilt in her stomach as she tried to push the thoughts of Sirius from her mind.   

As the sunlight began to fade into the afternoon sky, the group made their way back to the manor. Y/N knew that they would soon be sitting down for dinner, but she wasn’t quite ready for their afternoon to be over quite yet. She had gotten to know the boys better and was having fun hearing the stories of their school days. The idea of going back to an awkward dinner with James’s parents was unsettling. 

Dinner was a bit of a bust; James’s parents were once again preaching the joys of settling down young and the importance of family and tradition. James seemed to be trying his best to get through the meal without any trouble, occasionally shooting an apologetic look at Y/N. Sirius and Remus sat awkwardly opposite them, doing their best to dodge the Potter’s invasive questions about when they themselves would get married. 

Every so often, Sirius would nudge Y/N’s foot with his own under the table. It first started when Mrs Potter made a comment about wedding dresses, but as dinner went on, it became more and more frequent. He would tap his foot against hers, then when she would look up at him he would pull a face or wink at her. She tried her best to focus her attention on the food in front of her, but it was hard not to be distracted by Sirius’s constant prodding under the table. The gesture felt flirty, and despite her efforts to resist, she couldn’t help but look back at him every time they made contact.  

The first time that Y/N and Sirius were alone together was a few nights later when Y/N got up in the middle of night to get a drink. She was restless and unable to sleep, still not used to the unfamiliar house that she was now living in.   

Sirius was already in the kitchen when she got in there, hoisted up on the kitchen counter, dimly lit from the small stream of moonlight that shone in from outside. 

“Mrs Potter will kill you if she sees you sitting up there.” Y/N whispered. Sirius snapped his head round to look at her, clearly not expecting anyone else to be up at this hour. He rolled his eyes and chuckled. 

“Let her try.” he said, not seeming too worried about the potential consequences of his behaviour. He stayed put on the counter, looking down at Y/N with a mischievous grin.   

“On your head be it.” she shrugged, grinning at him, “What are you doing up so late anyway?” 

“Couldn’t sleep.” he shifted his legs so that he was now sitting cross-legged on the counter, “What about you? Doing a bit of late-night wedding planning? 

Y/N laughed and rolled her eyes. She had spent so much time over the last few days trying to resist his playful flirting, but he was making it increasingly difficult. With every smile and joke, she felt herself warming up to him. 

“Oh, of course,” she scoffed, “I was just about to draw up the first draft of our wedding invitation.” 

“Well, if you need a hand writing them out then I’ll have you know that I have lovely penmanship.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Y/N said, “But I’m hoping it doesn’t get that far.” 

“How are you feeling about everything?” he asked gently, his face becoming more sombre. 

“I mean, James is lovely and all but...” her voice trailed off for a moment, “I’m not in love with him. I don’t want to marry him, and he doesn’t want to marry me.” 

Sirius just nodded, for once in his life at a loss for what to say. Y/N crossed the kitchen, grabbed a glass from the cupboard and filled it with water. She pulled herself up onto the other counter, opposite Sirius. 

“Y’know, I nearly ended up marrying my own cousin once,” He said bluntly. Y/N spluttered, nearly spitting her drink out. “You think yours and James’s families are mental? You should try meeting mine.” 

Wait, what?” she asked, looking at him in disbelief.  

“Yep. Old fashioned family traditions. Similar situation to you and James. They wanted me to settle down and get married and move out of the family home.” he said, “Guess that’s one thing we have in common then. Our fucked up families.” 

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh at Sirius’s crassness, but she felt a sense of validation knowing that someone else knew exactly what she was going through. 

“Yeah, I guess it is,” she said with a small smile, “So, what happened? How did you get out of the marriage?”  

“I ran away. Came to live with the Potter’s for a few weeks until school started again. I didn’t tell them exactly why of course. James and Remus knew and obviously thought it was hilarious.” his smile quickly faltered, “Haven’t seen my parents since.” 

“Well, I’m glad you escaped.” Y/N said softly. She could see that the situation with his parents was still very raw and painful for him, as much as he tried to brush it off. 

“Yeah, me too.” 

They stayed in the kitchen chatting for hours. Y/N told Sirius about her childhood and her school years and he exchanged stories about his childhood before he ran away. They only realised how much time had passed when a small chink of sunlight streamed through the window.  

“Shit. I didn’t realise the time.” Y/N gasped, hastily standing up. 

“Time flies when you’re having fun, eh?” Sirius grinned, he slid off the counter, crossing the kitchen to stand in front of her, “I’ll see you in a bit.” 

His comment made her face flush and she hoped that he hadn’t noticed it in the dim early morning light. She quickly composed herself and nodded at Sirius. 

“See you,” she said, trying to ignore the feeling of butterflies fluttering in her stomach. 

Y/N and James seldom spent any time alone together with Sirius and Remus staying at the Potters. Secretly, she was grateful, it was nice to have a bit of a buffer between her and James sometimes, his two friends seemed to make the whole ordeal a lot less awkward.   

“Are you busy?” James asked, suddenly appearing at her side in the kitchen the next morning. She hadn’t even heard him walk over. His voice caught her off-guard, and she jumped slightly, turning back to face him. 

“No, why? Is everything okay?”  

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you jump.” he said quickly, “Everything is fine. I just wanted to...talk. To you.” James’s tone was more solemn than normal, his thick, dark eyebrows knitted together seriously. 

A long moment of silence passed between them before Y/N eventually nodded and followed James. He led her upstairs towards his bedroom, firmly shutting the door behind them. He gestured for Y/N to take a seat but remained standing himself. Her eyes widened in anticipation as he took a deep breath.  

“I’m not really sure what the best way to tell you this is so I’m just going to come out and say it.” he began, “I overheard mum and dad speaking last night and well... they’ve set a date for the wedding.” 

Y/N felt like the wind had been knocked out of her. She had been enjoying the lull in the situation and felt like she had momentarily forgotten that anything had been wrong. James’s words hit her like a ton of bricks, and she slumped back in her seat, feeling completely stunned.  

“W-what? When?” 

“Next month.” James said with a pained expression, “It’s fast, but it seems like it’s the only way to satisfy our parents. They’ve set a date, so... I guess it’s happening.” 

He crossed the room to sit next to Y/N on the bed. He took her hand in his and squeezed it. Y/N looked down at their intertwined fingers, it was the first time that they had ever really touched each other. She was suddenly painfully aware of how close James’s body was to hers. They were sitting side by side, their legs touching and their hands together. A wave of heat washed over her, and she forced herself to meet James’s gaze.   

James, for his part, was trying very hard to keep his emotions in check as well. He grabbed Y/N’s hand without really thinking about what he was doing, in his head it just felt like it was the right thing to do. He held her gaze for a moment before finally speaking again. 

“It’s ridiculous, isn’t it?” he said, his voice softer now. Y/N nodded slowly, unable to look away from him. She looked down at their hands again, her lips parted slightly as she searched her head for words.  

“I don’t know...” she finally said, “I don’t know how to feel.” 

“I understand.” he nodded in acknowledgment, “This isn’t what either of us wanted.” He paused for a moment, releasing her hand from his and raking his fingers through his curls.  

“I know the situation is shit and I know that we haven’t spent a lot of time together.” he continued, “But that doesn’t mean that I don’t enjoy spending time with you. I mean, like... as a person. I don’t know, maybe if we got to know each other a little better it’ll all be okay.” 

Y/N was taken aback by the way that James spoke so openly and honestly about his feelings. He didn’t sound like the angry person he was the first time they spoke about their marriage. This side of him was entirely different and she liked it. Despite everything that was going on, she felt strangely comforted by the way he was speaking so candidly. 

“I feel the same way. I suppose we don’t really have another option, do we?” said smiled sadly, “I know it’s going to be hard, but I’m sure we can get through this together.”  

“We can always divorce, eh?” James chuckled. Y/N let out a laugh, caught off guard by the way James quickly slipped back into his normal jovial self. 

Over the next few days, Y/N spent most of her time avoiding James’s parents, in hopes that if they put off seeing them for long enough, they might just forget about the wedding all together. The four of them would try and spend as much of the day as they could outside of the house, often wandering down into the town or to the pub. Y/N’s late night conversations with Sirius had become a staple of her stay with the Potter’s and she found herself looking forward to their nightly rituals more over the next few days. She had quickly got used to sneaking down to the kitchen in the early hours of the morning. Their conversations had become increasingly more intimate, though for some reason, she still hadn’t broken the news to him about the date of the wedding.  

That night, she met up with Sirius after everyone else had gone to bed, slipping out of her room and making her way down to the kitchen. The house was silent and still, and she felt a rush of excitement as she laid her eyes on Sirius, him staring back at her with a wide grin.  

“I was wondering when you’d be joining me.” Sirius said calmly. Y/N returned the smile, taking a seat on the counter. Though, tonight, she strayed from her usual spot on the opposite side of the kitchen and sat next time him. 

“You’re quite predictable, you know?” she teased, “the last three nights you’ve been in the kitchen, maybe you ought to start changing it up a little.”  

She adjusted her position on the counter, trying to make herself more comfortable. Sirius smiled back playfully and for a moment, they just sat in companionable silence. Just as it had happened earlier with James, Y/N noticed the way that Sirius’s knee was touching hers. Although, this time she didn’t feel the need to yank it away, she just let it rest against hers.  

“James told me the news.” Sirius stated, “It’s shit.” 

“Yep.” Y/N laughed at his bluntness, “In less than a month I’ll be a married woman.” 

“You don’t like him very much, do you?” 

“It’s not that I don’t like him – I think any girl would be lucky to have him. I mean, he’s lovely and all but...” her voice trailed off. 

“You just don’t like him like that.” Sirius finished for her.  

Y/N hummed in response, her eyes trailing down to where their knees were touching and then back up to Sirius’s eyes. He was looking straight back at her, as if his eyes were searching hers for exactly how she was feeling. The moment felt charged, and she couldn’t bring herself to look away from him. She knew he was waiting for her to say something and she was quickly overcome by a wave of self-consciousness that left her unable to speak.  

After what felt like an eternity, Sirius’s hand inched its way over until it was hovering over her knee. Slowly, but surely, his fingers placed themselves over her own.  The heat between their two bodies was almost unbearable. She could feel her heart racing and she was almost certain that if he listened hard enough he would be able to hear it. Her fingers instinctively tightened around his. 

“I just really don’t know what to do.” she found her voice after a moment, looking up at him.  

Once again, his eyes locked with hers for a moment before they fluttered shut, his body angling towards hers, head tipped down and his lips brushing against her own. Instinctively, his hand reached up to cup her face, thumb stroking across the softness of her cheek. After a moment, she pulled away, her focus on his lips for a fleeting moment before forcing herself to look away. She felt like she had just been electrocuted, feeling dizzy with the rush of emotions. Sirius, for a few moments, looked like he was too stunned to speak. He looked down at their intertwined fingers and quickly drew his away. 

“I should go.” he said, sliding down from the counter. He barely looked at her before swiftly making his way out of the kitchen. Y/N didn’t move, just stared after him as he left, her hands stayed where they were on the counter, her fingertips still tingling from Sirius’s touch. 

They managed to avoid each other for the rest of the week, their brief moment of intimacy being pushed to the back of both of their minds. Y/N was doing her best to avoid thinking about Sirius, and Sirius was trying his best to avoid thinking about Y/N.  

James had spent an awful lot of time by her side over the last few days, and while she appreciated the distraction, every time James spoke to her she got a horrible sick feeling in her stomach. She felt like her heart was being ripped into two, feeling torn between her attraction to Sirius and her engagement to James. 

You’ve seemed off the last few days, is everything alright?” James asked one afternoon as they were sat together in the living room. Y/N looked up from the book that was resting on her lap. 

“I’m fine.” she said, “How come you haven’t gone out with the others?”  

“Remus wanted to go to the pub and I didn’t fancy it.” he shrugged.  

“You’re not just staying here for me, are you?”  

“No.” James laughed, “Not just staying here for you, no. But I would like to be spending time with you.” 

Y/N felt the blood rush to her cheeks and she looked back down at her book, trying to avoid James’s gaze.  

“I’ll be spending a lot of time with you for the rest of my life. Might as well start getting used to it.” he grinned.  

“Hey, mind if I ask you something?” James asked after a few moments of silence. 

“Go ahead.” 

“I was just wondering, if we hadn’t been forced into this whole engagement thing, how do you think you would feel about me?” 

Y/N froze, uncertain of what she should say. She wanted to be honest with him but she didn’t want to hurt his feelings. Her mind flicked back to the conversation she had had with Sirius and the kiss they had shared. 

“I...” she started hesitantly, her eyes still avoiding James, “It’s hard, isn’t it? Maybe if we had met in another situation it would be different but...” 

“You don’t have to lie to me,” James said, his voice gentle, “I know that none of this was how it was supposed to happen and I know that there are a lot of things about this situation that you don't like, but I think that we could still be happy together.” 

She couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed by the guilt that suddenly washed over her. Even if they had met under different circumstances, she still wasn’t entirely sure that things would have worked out between them. She just didn’t see James like that. She had tried to ignore it at first, but to her, it just felt like it was a fact that there was no romantic tension between them. But, to say that would be heartbreaking, so instead, she just stayed silent. 

“Y’know, Sirius said I’m mad.” James sighed and Y/N looked at him quizzically, “He thinks I’m daft for trying to find a way out of this marriage. Said I’d be lucky to have a girl as good as you.” 

“He did?” 

“Yeah, he thinks you’re great.” James moved to look at her properly, taking the book from her lap, closing it and placing it on the table so that she was forced to give him her full attention.  

Y/N immediately felt nervous as she met James’s gaze. Her breath caught in her throat, feeling even more vulnerable no that there was no escape. She was forced to look directly at James with no distractions. 

“He’s right as well. Although, don’t tell him I said that because the smug bastard would never let me live it down.” James chuckled. He moved his hand to cup her chin, shifting her face to look at him, “You are great. You’re funny, you’re smart, you’re gorgeous. I mean, if the circumstances were different then I feel like-” 

“James, don’t-” 

Before she could finish her sentence, James had leaned forward, his lips colliding with hers. Y/N let out a gasp of surprise. She felt his hand tangling into her hair, the other moving down to her waist. It was like she was stuck, just sat there, allowing James to kiss her. Her body was completely overtaken by confusion.  

“What the fuck.” a voice spoke. 

Both of their heads snapped around to the doorway. Sirius was standing there, arms crossed over his chest, Remus at his side. Sirius’s expression was unreadable, and Y/N quickly pulled away from James, sinking back into her seat. 

“Ah, so this is what you two get up to when we’re not around.” Remus grinned, “No wonder you didn’t want to come to the pub with us.” 

James’s face flushed red and he awkwardly scratched the back of his neck, smiling nervously. A hot wave of embarrassment flushed over Y/N and her eyes frantically flicked between James and Sirius. Sirius’s expression didn’t change, and for the first time, she noticed a certain edge to his stare. It didn’t seem like he was going to say anything at all, but he kept his eyes locked on her. 

Y/N didn’t know what to say. She couldn’t tell if she was more angry with herself for letting the kiss happen or embarrassed at the fact that they had been caught. She looked back over to Sirius, his jaw was clenched and any trace of the usual playfulness in his eyes had gone. Without saying anything, Sirius walked away and they heard the faint slamming of his bedroom door.  

“What’s his problem?” James asked.  

“Dunno,” Remus shrugged, “He’s had a few pints. You know what he gets like.” 

That night, Sirius didn’t show at their usual meeting place in the kitchen. Y/N sat and waited patiently, hoping that he would turn up so that she could explain herself to him. She wanted to tell him that it was James that kissed her, that it meant absolutely nothing to her. Her heart sank as the morning light started to stream into the kitchen and she realised that Sirius wasn’t coming.  

For days, the only time that Y/N would see Sirius was when they ran into each other at the table during meals or on the stairs. Sirius avoided her eyes when they passed each other, not even giving her a chance to speak to her before disappearing. She didn’t know what to do. She kept trying to catch his eye whenever she saw him, willing him to look at her, wanting to explain everything. But, every time, she felt as though her words would be meaningless.  

She didn’t even want to see James now. Whenever he tried to talk to her, she would avoid him and go out of her way to prevent being alone with him. It wasn’t James’s fault, and deep-down Y/N knew that.  

One night, as Y/N was on her way upstairs to bed, she ran into Sirius. He was on his way out, taking his coat off the hook in the hallway when she suddenly caught a glimpse of him. She tensed up as he looked at her, scared of what he was going to say, but all he seemed to do was stare, that same cold expression that he wore when he saw her and James kiss.  

Before she could say anything, Sirius turned around, slid on his coat and walked out of the house. Y/N watched him walk away, managing to stop the front door before it slammed shut behind him. Not even bothering to put her coat on, she slipped on her shoes and hastily followed him up the driveway. 

“What are you doing out here? Go back inside, you’ve not even got a coat on. You’ll freeze.” Sirius said bluntly when she managed to catch up to him. 

“I don’t care.” Y/N pressed, “Will you please just speak to me? You’ve been avoiding me for days!” 

“Well, I’m sorry that I don’t feel like speaking to you after I walked in on you kissing my best mate.” 

“I’m engaged to him!” 

“You told me you didn’t love him!” 

“I don’t!” 

“Then why did you kiss him?” 

They were stood facing each other now. The chilly night air nipped at Y/N’s bare skin, making the hair on her arms stand up. She could feel frustrated tears stinging her eyes and she fought hard to hold them in. 

“He kissed me.” Y/N’s voice came out strained, “I wish he didn’t. God, I wish he didn’t. I don’t know why he did it. It just happened. I don’t know – maybe he just wanted to see if there was anything there.” 

“And was there?” Sirius asked, his eyes still cold. 

“Not on my part, no.” Y/N admitted, “Not like there was when you kissed me.” 

Sirius stopped at that. His eyes locked on hers, his expression softening for the very first time. His eyebrows raised slightly, and his frown eased.  

“You mean, the kiss with me really meant something to you?” 

Y/N nodded; a shy smile crept over her face as she thought back to their kiss. The way that Sirius’s lips had felt so different to James’s. Softer, more passionate, it had just felt right in that moment. 

“Of course it meant something to me. I thought it had to you as well,” her smiled faltered for a second, “but then after you left straight away and you avoided me for days. I thought you regretted it. Then the kiss with James happened and...” 

“I did regret it. I regretted it because you’re engaged to my best friend and I'm the bloody fool that decided to fall in love with you.” Sirius’s brows furrowed, “I just felt like I fucked up. God, you’re getting married.” 

Sirius raked a hand through his hair, his head tipped back. He looked up towards the sky, the inky, dark night sprinkled with stars. He sighed and then looked back at her. 

“I just wish we could have met under a different circumstance.” he said sadly, “without everything being so complicated.” 

“Me too.” 

She couldn’t help the aching feeling in her heart. Feeling as if the world was so cruel to throw them together this way. His eyes locked on hers, a deep well of sadness in them. 

“We should go back inside; you’ll catch your death out here.” Sirius said, placing a hand on her arm and trying to guide her back to the house. 

“Where were you going anyway?” she asked, “When you walked out?” 

“God knows.” 

They walked back to the house in silence, the only sound being the creaky stairs as they made their way back to their bedrooms. She could feel the tension in the air, like they both wanted to say something but couldn’t. When they reached the top of the stairs, without saying anything, Sirius placed a gentle hand on her cheek and turned her to face him. 

Gently, Sirius pulled her towards him, sliding one arm around her body so her chest was just brushing against his. His other hand moved up to cup the back of her neck, his fingertips brushing gently against her skin. He pulled her in closer and she tipped her head back to look at him, their lips just inches away from each other. 

He didn’t wait a second longer. His lips found hers, pressing against them as he kissed her deeply. One hand slid down to rest on her waist, the other tangling in her hair, pulling her body flush against his.  

For the first time that night, Y/N wasn’t thinking about all the complications, she was just basking in the moment, happy to feel the electricity between them once again. The kiss was much longer than their last, much more passionate. Y/N ran her fingers through Sirius’s hair. Every inch of her was pulled towards him, desperate to cling onto him. She wanted it to last forever, her arms wrapped around his neck, his body melted against her own, her lips on his. She would have given anything for time to stand still. 

All too soon, the kiss ended. Sirius’s lips moved away from hers. Their breathing was loud in the silence. The two of them stood there for what felt like an eternity, both refusing to look away. 

“What do we do now?” Y/N asked softly. 

Sirius paused before answering, his eyes flicking back down to her lips. He opened his mouth like he was about to say something but no words came out. Instead, he just tilted his head down and kissed her again, sweetly this time. 

“I’ll do whatever it takes if it means I get to do that again.” Sirius whispered, his lips still touching hers. 

“But what about James?”  

Her question brought them both crashing back to reality. Sirius let out a deep exhale as he looked away.  

“Let me worry about that.”  

James was in the kitchen the next morning when Y/N went to get breakfast. Much like herself, he was an early riser and was sat at the kitchen table when she walked in. The golden glow of the sunlight lit up the room, bathing James in its warmth.  

“Morning.” he smiled, looking up at her. His voice was still thick with sleep and his curls were falling messily over his forehead. 

Y/N smiled back despite her stomach churning with anxiety. She had spent most of the night unable to sleep, replaying last night’s events in her mind. Despite James being completely oblivious to what was happening with Sirius, she could barely stomach being in the same room as him. 

James kicked the chair out that was opposite from him, gesturing for her to take a seat. She wanted to refuse, to distance herself from him as much as possible, but she couldn’t.  

“You’ve been avoiding me.” James addressed. She felt her heart immediately drop. Her eyes darted across the room, looking anywhere but back at him. 

“I could say the same.” she retorted. James raised an eyebrow at her and leaned back in his seat. 

“You kissed me.” The words had fallen from her mouth before she had even realised what she was saying.  

“I did.” An amused smile tugged on his lips. Y/N’s stomach heaved at the way he was acting so casually about it. 

“Why did you do it?” 

“To see if we both felt anything.” he shrugged. 

“And did you?”  

“Would it matter if I did?” 

It was her turn to raise an eyebrow at him. He was acting so nonchalant, and it was driving her insane. James just chuckled, amused by her reaction. 

“Let’s suppose I did feel something. Would that affect anything?” he probed. 

Y/N looked away from him again, she was speechless. Her head was reeling from everything that was going on, all the conflicting emotions. A few weeks ago her and James were planning away for them to get out of the engagement, and then he kissed her and now, he seemed unfazed by the whole situation. 

“It wouldn’t.” he answered for her, “Because you didn’t feel anything.”  

For a moment, the whole world seemed to freeze. Her eyes widened, shocked at how blunt he was being with her. She couldn’t deny it. She hadn’t felt anything. He was right and she hated that. 

“Fine.” she admitted, feeling her throat clench up, the words just barely forcing themselves out, “I didn’t feel anything. What were you expecting? That you would kiss me and-” 

“That there would be fireworks and we would both realise that we were actually madly in love with each other?” James said dryly, “I’m not stupid. I don’t know what I was expecting.”  

Y/N sighed and rested her head in her hands. She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to process everything that had just been said.  

“I’m a good kisser, right?” he teased, breaking the silence, “I mean, you have to give me that. It wasn’t completely awful, was it?” 

“No, it wasn’t completely awful.” Y/N cracked a smiled for the first time that morning. The atmosphere between them felt lighter. She felt herself relax a little, her smile growing wider. It was nice to be able to laugh a little, even if it was due to the awkwardness of the situation. 

“Did you sort everything out with Sirius?”  

“What?” Y/N spluttered, nearly choking on the intake of breath. 

“C’mon, I’m not thick.” he smiled, “All this ‘you’d be daft not to marry her’ nonsense. He couldn’t make it any more obvious.” 

Y/N’s heart felt like it was beating a million times a minute, the blood pumping through her body as she tried to think of a way to get her out of speaking about Sirius. 

“I didn’t... we didn’t... nothing happened.” she stumbled over her words. It was clear that she was terrible liar because she only managed to keep it up for a few seconds before she let out a massive sigh. 

“You’re the worst liar I have ever met, you know that?” James laughed.  

She sighed again, realising that she had no choice but to come clean. James was right – he wasn’t stupid and his suspicions were spot on. 

“Fine.” she groaned, “We kissed. Twice actually. We’ve met up a few nights, down here and we just chatted and-” 

“You like him.” James said. 

“I like him.”  

Neither of them said anything for a few minutes, both of them just stewing in the silence. Y/N tapped her fingers anxiously on the table, trying to think of something to say. 

“I’m sorry.” she decided on. 

“Don’t be sorry.” 

Y/N felt completely lost. He didn’t seem angry, or disappointed. He seemed almost understanding and she couldn’t wrap her head around it. She looked up at him, slightly surprised by his reaction. 

“You don’t care?” she asked incredulously. 

“Nope.” he smiled, “I think I always knew this would happen eventually. I never really believed in the arrangement. I mean, you’re great and I do like you but I don’t really want to marry you and you don’t want to marry me either. So what difference does it make that you like someone else?” 

“But your parents have booked the wedding.” 

“Fuck the wedding. I don’t care.” He said with a dismissive wave of his hand, “Our parents care more about the wedding than we ever could. They’ll get over it. They’ll find someone else for me to marry.” he finished with a laugh. 

Y/N felt like all the weight had been lifted off her shoulders, like she could breathe properly again for the first time in weeks. James was being so mature about the whole situation. She had been worrying for absolutely no reason, convinced that her entire world was about to come crashing down. 

“So, what do we tell our parents?” she asked. 

“Let me figure that out.” James said sitting up straight, “I’ll speak with both sets of parents, and we’ll see where it goes from there. In the meantime, just act normal. They don’t think that there’s anything wrong.” 

Y/N distracted herself while James was speaking to their parents by making her way up to Sirius’s room. She knocked gingerly on his door. He didn’t answer for a few moments but then she heard a shuffling sound and the door creaked open. 

Sirius looked like he had just woken up, his jet black hair slightly tussled but still perfect looking, plaid pyjama bottoms hung low on his hips. Y/N found herself staring at him for a second to long, her eyes scanning over his shirtless torso, taking in the sprinkling of tattoos that she hadn’t seen before. 

“Are you going to come in or are you just going to stare at me all day?” a cocky smirk spread across his lips. He stepped to the side, allowing her to enter his room and shut the door behind her. He leaned back against his bed, his eyes wandering over her, not bothering to conceal the fact that he was watching her as well.  

Neither of them spoke as they drank each other in. Y/N’s eyes darted around the room, noticing for the first time all the little details. The posters that had be messily taped to the wall, the stacks of books by his bed, even the smell of the room, all the subtle hints of him. 

“I told James.” she said, breaking the silence. 

“It’s a bit early to be dropping bombshells like that.” his mouth was curling up at the corner. 

“We don’t all sleep in ‘til noon,” she teased. Sirius just rolled his eyes at her. 

“D’you think I slept at all last night?” he nudged her, “How did he take it?” 

“Better than I expected, actually. He said he knew something was going on between us anyway. Said you spoke... highly of me.” she said, choosing her words carefully. 

“Oh, yeah?” he leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand, eyes sparkling mischievously “What did he say?” 

“That you said he’s daft not to marry me.” 

Sirius snorted in amusement, leaning back on the bed and crossing his arms. 

“I was that obvious, was I?” he laughed, “I guess he’s not as thick as I thought he was.” 

“I think it was more obvious when you stormed off when you walked in on him kissing me.” she joked. The pair of them laughed at the thought of Sirius’s dramatic exit. “He didn’t seem bothered at all. I mean, we both agreed that this engagement was stupid. It’s just an excuse for our parents to get involved in our lives. There’s no real reason for us to get married.” 

“So, what now?” he rested one of his hands on her thigh, “the marriage is off, I’m assuming. So, what’s the plan – we run away into the sunset together?” 

“In a perfect world, I would love to do just that, but we both know it’s not going to be that easy.” her smile faded slightly, “James is breaking the news to our parents. God knows what he’s going to tell them.”  

“Well, I suppose we just have to wait and see.” 

He pulled her towards him, letting her head rest on his chest as he wrapped his arms around her, embracing her properly for the first time. She felt like she melted into him, simply just existing in his arms. Sirius rand a hand down her arm, taking her hand in his and bringing it up to his lips. He pressed a soft kiss to her knuckles, letting it linger for a few seconds. 

Every sense of her body seemed to come alive all at once. The scent of his skin mingling with the like smell of his cologne, the sound of his breath and the feel of his gentle touch running over her skin. She felt herself get lost in the moment, forgetting the past and ignoring the future. For now, she felt content. 

[vidavalor]

Why do you think Crowley didn't just get another apartment?

Hi! Thanks for the ask. I have French buttercream chocolate cake tonight. I know, right? It's amazing. *cuts you a slice*

To answer your question, I think we have to look at the whole thing with where Crowley parks The Bentley and when (in both seasons) and, also, the scenes that emphasize Crowley and Aziraphale avoiding being seen together anywhere in the mornings and what all this has to do with what he says is his living situation in S2.

Meta on Crowley "living in his car" in S2 under the cut.

For Crowley and Aziraphale, what has always been what *absolutely cannot happen* is Heaven/Hell figuring out that Crowley will stay in the bookshop until very, very late into the evening, as that is the one thing they'd have trouble justifying. If Crowley parked The Bentley in front of the bookshop in the afternoon/evening and it was still there at 7am the next morning, it would send a message to anyone watching that their relationship isn't just intelligence business, it's not just friendship...and it's not even really just sex. If Heaven/Hell saw The Bentley outside the bookshop all night often enough, they would assume that Crowley and Aziraphale are in a romantic relationship and this is the one thing that Crowley and Aziraphale do not want them to figure out. They can hatch a wild plan if they get caught to justify any of the rest of it and maybe get away with it but there's no way out if they get caught out being in love when they're supposed to be sworn enemies... so, if they want to spend time alone together in the privacy of the bookshop, how do they work around the problem of potentially being noticed? The show actually showed us subtly in S1 before a little more overtly in S2.

When Crowley is going to come over for awhile-- and especially when it's going to mean that he's there into the evening-- he doesn't park The Bentley in front of the bookshop. He parks it in the vicinity but not too close-- around where it was when Aziraphale called him in 2.01. Two or so minutes' drive out, on a side street. (A two minute drive is a 15 or so minute walk so not that far but a bit away.) If he's coming to the shop alone, he'll probably use the side entrance to the bookshop but if he's been out with Aziraphale-- like he was in their 'fuck everything, the world is ending' lunch at The Ritz in 2008-- they'll walk back to the bookshop. If anyone notices Crowley entering it, it'll be during the day, right? While not ideal, it's innocuous enough. Aziraphale's bookshop is theoretically a business and is also an angelic embassy and Aziraphale could say that he's trying to turn Crowley to the light and make him into an informant if they were caught. Conversely, it couldn't hurt Crowley-- whose job, like Aziraphale's, is to spy on his counterpart-- to seem like he's gaming the corruptible angel and getting intel to further the demonic goals of Hell so he could say he's luring the angel to trusting him. Being in the bookshop during the day, during what are (for normal businesses lol) business hours, when the business is also an embassy, is one thing. It's the evening that's the problem for them. At that time of day, the bookshop is nothing but Aziraphale's residence and Crowley's presence during those hours becomes much riskier. So, how to get around that?

Here's them walking back to the bookshop from wherever Crowley's parked The Bentley on a side street after lunch in 2008/Eleven Years Ago in S1:

During lunch in 2008, they already planned for Crowley to come back to the bookshop with Aziraphale and since there's no plan for him to leave in any hurry, Crowley is already not parked in front of the bookshop so no one can recognize his car there late at night. This is practiced between them; they've been doing it for awhile by this point. They still are in S2, when we have several scenes of Crowley in The Bentley parked on a side street near the bookshop.

Since Crowley can't be seen then leaving the bookshop once the sun is up or it'd defeat the purpose of the car not being parked in front of it, whenever he comes over, he leaves the bookshop through the side door at some ungodly pre-dawn hour, walks to his car a few streets over (apparating into it would be suspicious to anyone who might have found it so he usually walks, looking like he was just out late causing demonic trouble), and then, in the past, would drive back to his apartment in Mayfair. That way, when the sun came up, anyone who might be watching his place would see The Bentley parked in front of it. Didn't see Crowley leave the bookshop from the afternoon? You must have missed him in a crowd on the sidewalk somewhere because there's his gorgeous, old, very recognizable car, parked in front of his place in Mayfair, gleaming in that early morning sun.

No one was ever the wiser to the fact that on some of these nights, Crowley was not home in his apartment or out raising hell all night but was actually in the bookshop nearly until dawn.

Is it kind of miserable for Crowley to have to leave every time in the middle of the night and for him and Aziraphale to never really know what it's like to wake up together? To never get to have breakfast and mornings together? Of course. But it keeps them safe so they deal with it. As a result, though, they have a thing about mornings.

In 1.01, when Crowley calls Aziraphale in the middle of the night and they both have separately learned of Armageddon, he tells Aziraphale that they "need to talk" and then they both, without further discussion, are at their bench in St. James' Park the next day. During their talk, they decide to go to lunch and go directly there, which means that they met up sometime around 11am-12pm. So even Crowley calling in the middle of the night and setting up the meeting in the park with their code phrase means that the time of the meeting is always predetermined to be at least 11am, no matter what they need to discuss. Even after learning of Armageddon beginning, they waited until almost lunch the next day to meet up and talk about it because they never want to be seen in public together in the earlier mornings. They're afraid of someone seeing them going for a walk or getting a coffee together before midday and thinking they spent the previous night together. Crowley is always gone from the bookshop before the sun starts to come up and they never meet before 11am in an effort to keep anyone from figuring out that they are often in the bookshop-- and Aziraphale's bed-- together through the early morning hours.

Which tends to make this, their first time getting breakfast even if Crowley knew it wasn't really that because Aziraphale's "problem voice" was on, even more hilarious...

Crowley's like I left you blissed out and half-asleep in your bed *four hours ago*, angel... how on Earth is there a 'naked man friend' in your bookshop right now? He knows that Shax told him there's something going on and that Aziraphale called with a problem but this is the only time of day they usually spend apart and they always do so if Aziraphale is going to cheat on him-- which he's not lol-- this is when he would and based on the fact that Aziraphale panics at Crowley thinking there's another guy in the bookshop and based on Crowley's wtf? face at hearing there is, these two aren't sleeping with anyone else anymore and have a monogamous thing, even if they probably sort of forgot to have a discussion about it. Crowley can tell from Aziraphale's reaction that there's some misunderstanding here and then just gets bemused about it but also about ready to kill whatever guy, naked or not, is causing Aziraphale problems, only to find out that it's, well, the guy who tried to kill them.

In 2.01, when Gabriel makes his rather noticeable arrival on Aziraphale's doorstep, it is the mid-part of the morning-- probably somewhere around 9am as Maggie was just getting ready to open her store for the day, Nina was still busy but her more immediate pre-work coffee rush seemed to be winding down, and Aziraphale was having his breakfast tea on yet another day that his shop was not opening lol. The most major character to miss Gabriel's arrival is, of course, Crowley. Crowley's meeting with Shax is just before/happening in tandem with Aziraphale at Maggie's shop and then Gabriel's arrival and actually opens the storyline in the present in S2. The point is that Crowley misses Gabriel's arrival because he is not in the bookshop in the early mornings, which is then something that is heavily emphasized through Crowley and Aziraphale's first scene of the season via Nina to not just be about this particular early morning but all mornings.

When Aziraphale calls Crowley and has him meet him in Give Me Coffee, Nina has never met Crowley before. Give Me Coffee is fifteen steps across the street from the bookshop and sells coffee, tea and baked goods and Nina doesn't know Crowley. Nina has been there running it since post-S1. She knows Aziraphale though and, until the morning of 2.01, she thought the old bookseller a confirmed bachelor. In the span of 20 minutes, he gets a naked man possible deliveroo strippergram on his doorstep in front of the whole neighborhood and then then this other hot-- and surprisingly clothed-- Ginger Goth guy shows up to meet him for coffee. Nina's best guess for why the bookseller and his Crowley have never come across the street to her shop before and seem like they've literally never gotten breakfast together while they also "go way back" and have chemistry and affection for one another for days is that they're having an affair. Nina correctly guesses that their relationship is a secret and applies the most logical presumption that a human without knowledge of Heaven/Hell could-- that it's infidelity, not that they could be murdered if they were found out-- because these two live in London Soho in the year 2023 but are still afraid of being found out.

So, all of this shows how there's no Crowley in the bookshop in the morning. Neither of them have ever slipped across the street to bring back coffee and croissants for two at 7am or gone over to Nina's together. Aziraphale has been to Give Me Coffee alone before. Crowley and The Bentley are always nowhere to be found near the bookshop at this hour, which is how Crowley missed Gabriel's arrival.

So what does this all have to do with why Crowley doesn't just get a new apartment ahead of S2?

When Hell showed up in the form of Shax to reclaim the place in Mayfair in which Crowley was living, it really left Crowley with two choices. He wasn't about to tell Aziraphale because Aziraphale would feel like he had to ask him to move in with him for real and it was too dangerous. They can't have that so why bring it up and hurt them more? The two choices Crowley felt he had were to either get a new apartment or to just keep on as he's been living because the truth is... he hadn't been home to Mayfair that much lately anyway.

Before, Crowley and Aziraphale would try to go some amount of time between seeing each other but after S1, maybe with some exceptions around the Covid lockdowns but definitely not since they were lifted, they just stopped bothering that much. They were already together on borrowed time with no idea how much time they had until Armageddon: Round Two would start and they just wanted to be together so they kept up their whole routine of Crowley out before dawn and no mornings but Crowley had been more or less living in the bookshop for awhile ahead of S2.

As Aziraphale says here:

Meaning: they live together. Crowley's there all the time. Aziraphale does not mind. It's been months of Crowley in the bookshop every night. Aziraphale loves it. He hates him having to leave in the middle of the night as he always does but they've settled into a little domestic thing the best they can with the situation they have. The line is also laden with innuendo, suggesting they're not always just up talking and listening to old records until 4am but are regularly, ya know, setting off some alarm bells in Heaven together. (Couple Aziraphale's innuendo in the "plenty of use" scene with why Crowley says Muriel needs to leave the bookshop when he says he wants to take Aziraphale to breakfast at The Ritz. "We need a little 'us time'" meant all amnesiac angels and assorted representatives of Heaven and Hell need to get the Someplace out of this bookshop right now so I can finally watch that angel eat some pancakes and then take him to bed in our bed without worrying about someone needing a hot chocolate in the middle of the night.)

Their level of domesticity is actually shown to be pretty cute with this bit:

This is the most living together thing ever because it's saying that Crowley is just frequently in the bookshop while Aziraphale is out now. He's not even just there to see him but he spends time there alone while Aziraphale goes to the bank for change for the four books he sells a month and to his appointment with his barber and all his other little errands. You know Crowley likes waiting inside because he likes having a little time alone in a place where he's safe and won't be disturbed but also really the whole little domestic bliss of Aziraphale coming back and being all "Crowley? There you are" and showing him what he got at the shops and such. It's the most normal married thing imaginable and feels like they really live together and Crowley loves every minute of it.

So Hell taking his place in Mayfair back leaves Crowley with two options because it's still too risky for him and Aziraphale to just full on live together entirely: he can get a new apartment or he can basically just keep living with Aziraphale for most of the day and then spend the mornings in The Bentley/out.

If he gets a new apartment, he'd have to actually go there sometimes. He'd have to be seen moving his stuff into it and he'd have to get a new bed and he'd have to spend nights there sometimes to prove he's living there. It couldn't be suspiciously close to Aziraphale's place, so now he's got to drive more in the early morning hours. He's been spending so much time with Aziraphale, the thought of sleeping alone and spending the evenings alone again, even for a few nights now and then, is depressing. It was miserable before and now he can't to back to it again and he doesn't think Aziraphale would want to, either. He also doesn't exactly know how to tell him he'd have to be away some nights again without hurting him. They've both been alone more often than not for most of their existences and Crowley can't do it anymore. There's also, though, that getting another apartment also doesn't do much to help keep Heaven & Hell from thinking he and Aziraphale are involved... but pretending he's living in his car just might.

The only being of Heaven or Hell still talking to either him or Aziraphale is Shax and Crowley has to keep meeting up with her to get information on what's going on there and try to get a sense of how much time he and Aziraphale might have before Round Two. If he tells Shax that he's living in his car, then it makes him look less close to Aziraphale. Everyone knows Aziraphale has a private residence upstairs in the bookshop and that, if he and Crowley were really close, he'd have offered for Crowley to stay with him if he lost his apartment... so what if Crowley can make Heaven & Hell think they aren't that close, they just teamed up to stop Armageddon? He's even homeless now and the angel won't give him a place to stay. He tells Shax to tell Hell's Finance Office to send his bills to his car and Shax actually bought it and said she tried. Shax has been reporting back to Hell that Crowley is living in his car, which is what Crowley wanted her to think was the case.

Let Hell think they've won over him and taken his place and left him living in his car on a side street, let Shax keep meeting him in the early morning hours in his car on that side street... so that none of them figure out that he's actually living in the bookshop with Aziraphale.

In the meantime, no new apartment means no more nights away from Aziraphale. No commute back to it after picking up The Bentley on the side street means more time he can be with Aziraphale before he has to slip away in the early morning. He can just keep going from the bookshop to his car a few streets away each morning like he has been and that's the funniest part of it to him. Hell thinks they left him homeless and abandoned him and, really, they just made it easier for him to hide from them the fact that he's living with the angel he loves. All he has to do is bullshit them and he's good at that.

Crowley talking about living in his car is basically this in attitude, on steroids:

His pre-S2 conversations with Shax were like... Fuck, Shax, the crick in my neck from *sleeping in my car*... if Hell's Finance Office wants to find me, they can send the bills *to my car*... Bastard angel owns half of Soho, probably why I can't find a place... tell Lord Beezlebub if they're looking for me, they can go fuck themselves but if they absolutely have to contact me, they can find me *in my car*...

...and three hours or so earlier from every one of those conversations, Crowley was actually curled up in bed with Aziraphale in the bookshop.

[jolapeno]

hi love! Can I use the prompt

“Visiting them at work, either with lunch, or just to spend the afternoon with them as they try to get things done. Whether they actually get things done, or thing devolve into flirting/romantic gestures is up to you.”

With Javier Peña?? I truly believe a women showing him love/affection would make him throw up lmao but still I crave it. thank you ❤️❤️

#mmvalentinesevent

lunch break.

javi peña x f!reader

an: i hope you don’t mind i changed it a smudge, thought this would be more him, and his counterpart. season one/two ish. i’ve been loose with details.

You don’t even need to let the door slam, his eyes find yours as soon as you're standing in the doorway.

The realisation dawning, spreading, making creases appear in his brow before they smooth out, eyes softening and filling with apologies. Ones that make the air—in the loud, busy room he works in—all the more thick and heavy.

His jawline is more prominent, jutting out. You've committed it to memory with both your fingers and mouth. The feel of it is still able to conjure on your lips—if you need them to.

Instead, you watch his eyes. How the beginning of an apology begins to form as they sweep over your frame. Not that you'll accept it.

Hastily lifting the brown bag, you move closer to his desk. You're quick to notice the new deeper shade of the circles under his eyes. How they're worse under the sepia lighting—even more so as he leans back, arms stretching behind his skull as he rolls his lips.

All you're focused on is how his top two buttons are undone. The thinnest spread of sweat blotting over his skin, making your mind summon memories that'll make you weak, when you want to make him pay.

“I… fuck. I was meant to meet you for lunch?”

Your brows rise playfully, walking closer to his desk, dumping the bag down on the edge as you shift your denim jacket from your shoulders. “You were meant to meet me for lunch.”

With one hand, you wheel Murphy’s free chair to his desk, plonking yourself down next to him. Letting the thin fabric of your sundress settle above your thighs—landing higher on your skin than it did when you’d been standing.

Perfect.

“I’m so—“

“Save it, Peña. I ordered for you, which don't thank me—I added everything you hate to it.”

He pulls your chair closer to him, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Thank you, cariño.”

You almost crack.

His name for you, the one which rolls from his lips like honey, the one he's scorched over and over again against your rib cage, lips and thighs.

“The only reason I’m here is because I want to embarrass you as much as you embarrassed me by standing me up?”

Swiping his tongue across his bottom lip, he follows it by sliding his thumb in the same pattern. Dark eyes studying, traipsing over your face—desperately trying not to let them descend to your bare collarbone.

“How badly am I going to pay for this?”

You smirk, pulling out one of the trays from the bag, shrugging lightly as you place one in front of him. Cautiously avoiding his files, papers and lit cigarette.

You feel it then, his palm on your leg. Heavy, tight—warm. It takes everything not to inhale. To let your skin go several degrees higher from the implications, from the knowledge of what it can do.

Nothing was innocent with Javi Peña. But then, he didn’t come round at all hours of the night because you were innocent either. It hadn't begun between you to begin with because you were irreproachable.

Smirking silently to yourself, you allow his fingers to dance up your thigh. Having already put a plan in motion.

It's why you don't demand his eyes back to you when they move back on the papers in front of him. You don't argue when he mutters that you’ll have all his attention in a minute. You already know you will when he realises.

Instead, you pop open your tray, silently watching the smoke from his cigarette swirl up into the lights, blending with the cloud that's likely been forming since the sun rose.

And you wait.

“Where’s Murphy?”

“Fuck if I know.”

You bite the corners of your cheek, watching him flip a page over, his hand rising a little more north on your leg.

It’s torture, waiting. Needing him to rise up, feel the crease of your thigh. To run his index finger over the place where cotton or lace should be—finding nothing but bare, beautiful skin.

You almost forget how to breathe as you wait.

The underwear you’d slid off in the car, sitting dormant in your jacket pocket. Knowing there’s nothing greater in this world than food, sex, wine and torturing him; than making him wait, and watching a man who is rarely ever told no, to be patient.

You bite into your food, spices exploding as you fight a groan. Not wanting to give yourself away—to showcase that you’re up to something as he draws patterns on your skin.

You just want him a little higher, wanting him to brush over the empty expanse where he’d only last night slid your underwear down with his teeth.

It’s tense. Almost unsure how you can swallow from the way your pulse thundered in your throat. It’s making you sweat. Your skin prickling with adrenaline, eyes fixated on his side profile—his handsome, fucking face.

For a second, you hold your breath as his fingers fan over your skin. You’re rendered useless when he pauses, head lifting half an inch, dark eyes staring at you from the corners.

“Cariño…”

You lick the sauce from your finger, dropping the remainder of your food into the tray, blanking your face as you hum.

“Did you… Did you forget something?”

Frowning, you lick your lips as you tilt your head, meeting his gaze. Skin warming under it—thighs desperate to push together under his burning gaze.

“Don't think so? I mean, there’s more sauce in the bag—“

He turns his chair quickly, wheels working with him as he pulls you close—yours almost colliding with his. But he's good, so good. Already having his leg slotting between yours as you’re pulled to face him.

“Not the sauce. Where are they?”

You bite your lip, letting the smirk show, the angelic facade falling as quickly as your dress would have done—if he had shown up. “Pocket.”

“Give them to me.”

Frowning, you trace your teeth with your tongue. Slowly shaking your head, smirk broadening, telling him enough without as much as speaking.

He grits his jaw, staring at you, not even caring for how brazen he’s being with letting his eyes roll over you. How they take you in, undressing you, reminding your muscles and bones how he feels when he’s against you.

It takes all of you not to brush the strands of hair that have fallen over his forehead. But if you do, he’ll kiss your pulse. He’ll coax you in, make you forget that he had you waiting for an hour.

You didn’t come here because you want to forgive him, you want him to repent. Want him on his knees, hands on the back of your thighs whispering prayers into the space between your thighs.

He must know. Must be able to tell. His eyes shifting, lips curling.

“I’m a fucking idiot.”

Leaning closer, your eyes flick to his lips. His perfect, parting lips. “Oh, I know." Your fingers press against them, pushing his head back gently. "Eat ya damn food, Peña.”

He drops his chin, staring up at you through his lashes, whispering, “There's something else I’d rather eat.”

You hum, smiling sweetly. “Oh, Javi, I know. But, that was dessert and you didn’t bother fucking showing up for the main. So.”

He eyes you, prodding his tongue into his cheek. "Alright, cariño."

Smirking, your eyes fall to his lap, noticing the prominent bulge, the one you'd caused as you, moved closer to his ear, lips ghosting over his skin. "Let this be a lesson to not stand me up again, Javi."

He tenses from head to toe, watching you as you lean forward to grab your tray. "You're a horrible woman."

Licking the sauce from your finger, you smile. "Oh, I know, querido."

[felice-jaganshi]

My Fallen Apple

Lucifer X Reader

Chapter 2

You end up staying in hell a bit longer. Wanting to get to know the real Lucifer better, even against his own pleading! He didn't want you to see how bad his kingdom really was, but you didn't care.

You wandered the halls of his palace and stopped in front of a painting. It had three very beautiful blondes in it. One was Lucifer himself, the other you guessed was his wife, a very beautiful demon of some kind given the horns. But who was the younger girl then?

 

“Who is that?” You asked, and he looked sad and sighed.

 

“My wife and daughter. Lilith and Charlie.” You look over at him, noticing the longing in his gaze.

 

“You said before she's been gone for seven years? What about your daughter?” You regret your words when more pain crosses his face. But he immediately tries to hide it with the fakest, biggest grin you've ever seen.

 

“Oh, hah! Char char is too busy to spend time with her old man these days! Busy with an important passion project of hers! I'm so proud of her.” The forced cheer was replaced with a note of something genuine in that last sentence. So you picked up that he did love his daughter, genuinely. But there seemed to be distance between them… you kept yourself from asking, you'd made him cry enough for one day.

 

“Well, do you have a passion project? Something that keeps you busy?” His eyes lit up genuinely, and it was breathtaking.

 

“Do you like ducks?” …

 

“I'm.. sorry?” You weren't sure you heard right. Did he really just say, “did you say Ducks?” He blushed and looked away.

 

“I uh, take that as a no then.”

 

“No! I mean, I do! I just wanted to make sure I heard you right. I think they're cute!” You couldn't bear hurting him again, you'd say anything to get that sparkle back! He looked back at you, a glimmer of hope hidden behind embarrassment. 

 

“Really?” You nod vigorously!

“Really!” He smiles softly and holds out a hand.

 

“Then come with me. I'll show you my workshop.”

 

You take his hand, it's warm and comforting, fitting nicely into your own. He leads the way down a few halls before stopping in front of the door and unlocking it.

 

“No one's been in here with me since… Well, you're the first in a long while.” Suddenly, you feel a bit nervous. This feels… intimate in a way. A side of Lucifer possibly only seen by his wife and daughter. And now you, too.

 

He opened the door, and you're immediately overwhelmed by the color yellow! He confidently walks in and you follow close behind. You've never seen so many rubber ducks in all your life! Or death for that matter.

“I… so many…” You pick one up that has a tophat and cane, and it does a little dance in your hands. Lucifer watches, holding his breath to see your reaction. You smile wide and laugh, “oh my god, that's so cute!” He lets out his breath in one loud go, he's more relieved than you can imagine. He then puts on a more genuine grin.

 

“Well! Then you're gonna love the rest of my collection, they all do crazy shit! Oh, uh, avoid that pile over there though, those one breath fire and have knives and other dangerous things.” He pointed to the far corner. You make a note to avoid those ones and the two of you spend the next hour going over all the ducks he's made…

Except by the time you're halfway through one pile, you realize it's been way longer than an hour! The sun has set and the stars are coming out. 

“Oh fuck, how long have I been here?! Everyone's gonna panic! I gotta get home to my friends.” Lucifer's face drops as you say this.

 

“O-oh… right, you don't belong here. You have a family to get back to… don't you?” He then tries to cheer up, “well hey, thanks for making my day! It's genuinely been the best one I've had in… a- a while.” You look at this sad little duck loving angel, how could heaven ever get rid of such a cutie?!

 

“I'll come back.” His face lights up with shock.

 

“Wha-”

 

“If you'll allow it, I'll sneak out and come visit once a week. We can organize the ducks and have lunch.” He looks at you like you're the answer to his prayers.

And hey, maybe prayers do make it out of hell after all…

 

“Yes! Please do! I'd- I'd love that! Oh wait, here!” He dove into a pile of ducks, digging around in the squeaking pile for a full minute before emerging with a single green duck with a turtle shell on its back. “For you. It's not perfect but…” You take it with a smile and hug him tight.

 

“It IS perfect. Just like you… thank you for such a fun day Lucifer. I'll see you in a week.”

He hugs back, and blushes. A week was going to feel like an eternity of waiting for both of you… 

 

But, leave you must. He gives you his phone number and helps you get back up to heaven. Once there, you text all your friends that you're fine, and say you just spent the day alone at home because Adam was an asshole when being rejected, and you needed alone time afterwards. You hoped everyone would believe you and that he didn't tell anyone about what happened. 

 

If they found out you spent the day in hell… Well, there'd definitely be consequences. Like not seeing Lucifer again! And you couldn't have that.

[bellysoupset]

I love the carsickness story! Dizzy Leo and concerned Jonah is EVERYTHING!!!!!

If you do decide to do a part 2, I have an idea. You don't have to use it, but hear me out:

So, most of the time carsickness can last for a few hours, but sometimes it can take MUCH longer. Same night in the motel, Jon wakes up to the sound of Leo vomiting in the bathroom. They're both confused because they thought Leo would be better by then, and Leo is just so upset about being sick that he's an adorably pathetic combination of sick, emotional, and grumpy, and as concerned as Jon is he can't help but find it a little adorable.

Also, maybe Bella has a horrible headache that makes her nauseous in the middle of the night and Luke is super worried about her.

Suddenly, Wendy and Vince are woken up and are transitioning between helping Leo and Jon to helping Luke and Bell, and they're both just so tired but neither of them are gonna stop helping until Leo's and Bell's auditions for the freaking Exorcist are over.

P.S. I started cackling as I wrote that last sentence. I'm so effing sleep deprived!!😭😭😭

Double whammy of Leo&Bell in pain! Just changing the timing because since they left Maine at 8 AM and the trip lasted only 2 hours, there's no way part two would take place in the middle of the night.

----------

Jonah wasn't trying to be an asshole. Not really, he didn't slip out of the room, once Leo was finally asleep for good and no longer dry heaving every thirty minutes in the ice bucket, just to be a dick to his friends.

However, he couldn't pretend to be happy about the situation. Anyone with more than three working neurons would've been able to tell that putting Leo in a van, a vehicle famous for setting off motion sickness, for four hours, had a very high chance of ending up with him hurling. Jon couldn't understand how he was supposed to act like this wasn't Bella's fault, when she could've easily prevented this by not puppy eyeing her way into going to a fucking music festival when she could barely stay awake more than a couple of hours and wouldn't even enjoy the bloody thing!

So yeah, he wasn't trying to be a dick but it was really hard not to be one right now.

There was a small diner, adjacent to the motel, and Jonah slipped in, stomach growling painfully since it was well past midday and he was so used to having an early lunch thanks to work. He didn't expect to find Bella, Luke, Wendy and Vince inside, but that was on him, he should've guessed they were hungry too.

If Jonah could turn around and pretend he didn't know them, he would have, because right now he was far too angry to be able to keep a pleasant conversation. Instead, Vince spotted him from across the diner and waved, smiling brightly.

"Come sit down, we're just about to order!"

Bless his soul, Jonah thought bitterly, stepping closer and avoiding looking at Bella, lest the nastiest part of him snapped at her.

"What are you ordering?" he asked, sitting next to Wendy and glaring at the plastic menu in front of him.

"How's Leo?" Bella asked, causing Jonah to grit his teeth.

"Asleep," he said, roughly, before turning to Vince, "so? What are you ordering?

"I got a greek salad," Wendy replied, raising an eyebrow, "did he take the dramamine?"

"Yes," Jonah squeezed the menu in his hands, trying to focus on the goodies that were probably filled with saturated fat, "I'm gonna get the chicken salad."

"I'm really sorry, Jon," Bella said, reaching over the table to grab his hand, "really, I didn't think-"

"Clearly," he interrupted her, then before he could take the words back, Lucas let out a scoff.

"Don't be such a prick, it's no one's fault," he said strongly. If Jonah had ever considered letting go of the matter with Bell's apology, he immediately changed his mind, zeroing Luke's face with a cold glare.

"It absolutely is her fault Leo just got so sick he can't get up from the bed! Anyone with a brain could realize he'd get carsick in a trip like this and we're only here because none of you can tell her no!"

"Jonah, calm do-" Wendy started, but he jerked away from her hand when it came to rest on his bicep, face burning, still glaring at Lucas, who seemed to inflate with just as much anger.

"Leo is a fucking adult who could've said no himself," Luke spat, "you treat him like a child, he's a grown man and if he's sick that sucks, but it's not Bell's fault-"

"So it's fine to push him around to make her happy, but Bella can't take any fucking responsibility!?" Jonah slammed his hand on the table and he was aware he was causing a scene, aware he wasn't that furious at Bella and this was all just exacerbated by the fact that Luke got on his nerves like no one else could. Still, that did not stop him.

"Push him around!?" Lucas stood up too, raising his voice, "who pushed him around!? We asked a simple question and he could've said no! You're acting like a dick because things didn't go your way, just grow the fuck up-"

"Luke, stop," Bella grabbed at his sleeve, trying to pull him down, "Jon's right, it's my-"

"Nice to know just how much you care about him or literally anyone who's not Bella," Jonah cut her off, "you selfish prick."

"You're such a fucking asshole, Jonah! He's carsick! He's not dying!"

"And Bella has four stitches, so we have to go on a fucking road trip to keep her happy! Hypocrite much?"

"Could you two stop?" Vince interrupted them, yanking at Lucas' arm and forcing him to sit back down, "I don't care if you want to squabble like two teenagers, but this is a family dinner, so show some fucking respect. Shut up, Jonah," he snapped as Jon opened his mouth, "either solve this outside or you both shut the fuck up."

"Fine," Jonah scoffed, getting up and power walking outside, "as soon as Leo is better we're getting the fuck out of here."

He was still seething as he entered their room back again, almost trembling with rage to quell the desire to slam the door shut, but not wanting to wake Leo up...

"Leo?" Jonah frowned, his voice coming out at least an octave deeper with how angry he was. The bed was empty, "Leo?"

"Here..." Leo croaked from the bathroom and Jonah took a deep breath to calm himself down, before walking to his boyfriend.

He was expecting to find Leo looking like death, but still he wasn't prepared. His hair was matted down and he was shirtless, lying against the bathtub while his chest heaved with a tired panting.

"Why are you shirtless?" Jonah frowned, crouching down and Leo let out a tired scoff, his head lolling a little as if his neck couldn't support it.

"Puked on my shirt."

"Fuck," Jonah cupped his cheeks, "the meds did nothing?"

"Made my puke pink," Leo said playfully, before pushing Jon's hand off his cheek so he could pitch forward with a gag, hastily pushing the toilet lid up. He coughed and gagged, bringing up frothy bile and then letting out a whimper, resting his forehead to the cold ceramic.

"My stomach hurts," he whined, shoulders shaking as he gulped down the tears, "Jon, I feel like shit..."

"I know, I know," Jonah bit down his lip, rubbing his naked back. He wanted Leo in a hospital, with a nice IV hooked to his arm, zofran knocking him out. Instead they were in the middle of nowhere and he could clearly tell Leo was starting to get dehydrated.

"Please do something," Leo whimpered, hugging his stomach with both arms, "I don't understand how I'm-" he gulped down, "still sick..."

Jonah felt helpless as he said, "you gotta drink water, Leo."

"It's just gonna come back up," the blonde groaned, curling up as much as he could, "everything else did..."

"I know, but at least it won't hurt your throat as much and you won't be super dehydrated..."

Leo groaned and moaned as Jonah stepped outside the bathroom, returning with a bottle of water, "do I really have to?"

"Yes," he turned the cap, holding it to his lips, "c'mon baby, little gulps."

If Jonah ever entertained the idea the water was staying down, Leo got rid of that notion by burping against his hand, then mumbling "shit-" and turning to the toilet as the water came back up, just as transparent, practically ready to be bottled up again.

He panted heavily over the toilet, squeezing his eyes shut, "my head hurts..."

"It's because you're dehydrated," Jonah said, his heart squeezing, "let's try the water again, just a little sip."

Two hours later and a whole water bottle completely wasted and Jonah was at his wits end. Leo had long given up leaning over the toilet, since he had nothing to bring up, and was lying on the bathroom floor, his cheek pressed to Jonah's thigh, crying.

Or at least Jon thought he was crying, he wasn't exactly sure since the tears were few and scarce.

"Shhh, close your eyes," Jon combed his fingers through his hair, "your brain should make sense we're not moving soon..."

"Is this..." Leo sniffled, muffling a sick belch against his jeans, "is this how your vertigo feels?"

Jonah raised an eyebrow, "I wouldn't know," he said, instead of answering worse, since he didn't want Leo to think he was being a baby. He wasn't being a baby, he was in pain.

"I'm so hungry," Leo groaned, rubbing his own stomach, "but just thinking about food..." he gagged and Jonah tensed up, wondering if he was about to get another splash of acid on his jeans. He was incredibly glad he hadn't eaten anything either, otherwise he'd have puked by now.

There was a knock on the door and Jonah let out a scoff, thumping his head back softly against the tiles. If it was Lucas acting like a kicked puppy, he didn't want to hear.

"Jon, the door..."

"I don't care," Jonah rubbed Leo's arm up and down, noticing he was covered in goosebumps from lying on the cold ground, "baby, let's go back to the bed?"

"I don't feel... Jon, I'm gonna puke again..."

"Right now?" Jonah grabbed his bicep, ready to hoist him up, but Leo shook his head, gulping down as acid reflux hit his throat.

"Soon..."

"Yeah, no," Jon decided, grabbing Leo and pulling him sitting up, "you're gonna catch fucking pneumonia lying on this cold ground, you can puke in the bucket by the bed, c'mon."

It was a hassle to bring Leo back to the bed when he was so unsteady on his feet and once they fell on the mattress, Jonah considered just lying there, with his boyfriend starfished on top of him, before there was yet another knock on the door.

"Bloody hell!" he exclaimed, causing Leo to whine against his neck.

"Don't yell, my head is killing me..."

"Sorry," Jonah rolled them on the bed, fixing Leo's head on the pillow, "give me a second..." he walked to the door, deciding that he would punch Luke if he said yet another stupidity.

It was much to his surprise when he opened the door and his visitor was nearly an entire foot shorter than he was expecting.

Wendy was holding a little to-go box of food and she was pouting, "peace offering?"

Jonah raised his eyebrows, unsure if he accepted the peace offering when he knew damn well Wendy never let anything go, "what do you want?"

"I brought you food, since you're probably starving," she answered instead, holding the box before his face. He let out a sigh, stepping to the side in a wordless acceptance of her white flag and she entered the room, immediately gasping.

"Leo?!"

"Yeah, he's still throwing up, I don't know what to do..." Jonah said, while Wendy abandoned the box in the tiny table next to the frigobar and rushed to the bed, touching Leo's clammy cheeks.

"Hey, blondie, open your eyes for me..."

"He's awake, he's just weak," Jonah vouched, opening the box and immediately stuffing his mouth with the fried chicken she had brought. His stomach was hurting from hunger.

"Leo?" Wendy patted his cheeks, "honey, hey... Can you hear me?"

"Why are you in my room?" Leo answered and Jonah snorted at the bitchy type of comment that was normally reserved for his ears only. Wendy let out a relieved sigh.

"You look like death."

"Thanks, I feel like death too," Leo croaked, turning his face away from her touch, "stop pinching me."

"He's dehydrated," Wendy said, squeezing the skin between her index and thumb.

Jonah rolled his eyes, "I know, but he stopped puking for twenty minutes now. I'm gonna try water again."

"Water won't do," Wendy scoffed, getting up, "I still have the sublingual zofran I got for the Sicily trip..."

"You do?" Jon raised his eyebrows and Wendy glared at him.

"You'd know if you weren't sulking in your room."

"Stop being mean to him," Leo groaned, shoving Wendy's knee and she slapped his hand away, unbothered by the fact he was sick or not.

"I'm gonna be mean to him all I want. Ask your boyfriend why he made Bella cry," she said, before getting up and barging out to grab the medicine. Leo groaned, taking a second to be able to look at Jonah with glassy, unfocused eyes.

"You didn't."

"I didn't," Jonah agreed, but he wasn't sure of it. He had been so furious at Luke, he hadn't actually spared Bell a glance. Guilt made his stomach churn, "I don't think I did."

"Jon..." Leo groaned, then grimaced, planting a hand on his chest, his throat bobbing up and down. Jonah sighed, crossing the room in two steps and grabbing the ice bucket, holding it under Leo's chin to catch a thin dribble of water and bile.

The blonde groaned loudly, forcing up a sick belch and then collapsing against the pillows, struggling to catch his breath. He closed his eyes again, a pained frown on, then rasped, "go apologize..."

"You're out of your mind, poor thing," Jonah rolled his eyes, rubbing his back, "take a breath, baby, Wendy's got the good drugs. They'll knock you right out."

"Uhm..." Leo winced as a cramp hit his stomach, "apologize, Jon."

"Nope," Jonah leaned in, kissing his temple, "shhhh, stop talking."

Wendy walked back in the room, holding a paper box with tiny pink meds and now with a bottle of gatorade in her other hand. Jonah felt incredibly grateful, his cheeks burning with a guilty blush.

Surely Wendy was just exaggerating it, right?

"Open up," she bossed and Jonah gently forced Leo to open his mouth, the blonde frowning with indignance, but far too weak to fight him. Once the little pill was put on his tongue, Wendy glanced at her phone, checking the time.

"We need to wait fifteen minutes," she said, as if Jon didn't know that already. He stared at Leo, who was not asleep, but seemed to be, face all slack, slumped over the pillow.

"I didn't make her cry, did I?" he asked in a low voice, brushing Leo's sweaty bangs away from his forehead.

Wendy scoffed, "yes, you did."

"Bella doesn't cry," he argued weakly and Wendy glared at him, moving so he couldn't avoid her eyes.

"She does when she's got brain surgery literally fifteen days ago and some jackass decides to yell at her for wanting to get out of the house."

"I didn't yell at her," Jonah pouted and Wendy leveled him with a cold glare.

"Lucas is going to punch your teeth in," she warned him, "and I'm not lifting a finger to help."

"You are terrible to me," Jonah groaned, moving his hand down to Leo's cheeks, "baby? Are you still awake?"

"Unfortunately," Leo whined, but he sounded much more at ease, "I think the meds are kicking in..."

Wendy glanced at her phone, lifting it up so Jonah could see only seven minutes had passed. It wasn't time enough for the medication to be really acting, but regardless Jonah stroked Leo's cheek, whispering, "good, let's wait just a little bit more, love."

"Uhm, kay..." Leo yawned, slumping even more against the pillows.

Wendy gestured to the door with her head, mouthing the words "go apologize" and Jonah frowned, glaring at Leo, as if to say he couldn't just leave him alone. She rolled her eyes in response and gestured at herself, "I'm here."

Realizing he'd have no choice but to apologize, Jonah got up from the bed with a groan of his own, "if Luke punches me, I'm punching right back."

"He's not gonna punch you..." Leo mumbled, sleepily and Jon rolled his eyes at his little reassurance.

"I'll be right back."

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

As far as Luke was concerned, they should all just go and leave Jonah and Leo stranded behind. That'd teach him to not be a fucking asshole all the time.

Bella had started to openly cry in the diner and while Luke knew that the emotional fluctuations were a direct result of the head wound, that didn't stop him from seeing in red as he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer.

"Shhh, Bell, calm down, calm down," he chanted, almost rocking her on the seat. Bella crying was out of character enough, but her crying in public and not minding it? He felt like he was the one with the head injury.

Vince let out a pitiful noise, moving closer, "beautiful, Jonah is just being a prick because he's worried about Leo, he doesn't mean that..." he reassured her, but Bella shook her head, her whole face all red.

"He-he-hessright," she sobbed, causing Luke to squeeze her just a little tighter.

"Jon hasn't been right about a thing in his entire life," he scoffed, kissing the top of her head, "don't listen to him, baby."

She wasn't listening, Jonah had successfully reduced Bella to a mess of nothing but tears and eventually they decided that having lunch there, where all the other patrons were still watching, wasn't gonna happen and they got their to-go boxes, Luke almost carrying Bell out of the seat as she still shook with sobs.

He was going to kill Jonah, he thought darkly, helping her into their room and trying, once again, to wipe the tears away, "babe, shhh, it's not that big of a deal, I promise you..."

"It - its though!" She curled up on the bed, hugging her knees, "he's right, it's my fault, I pro-proposed the trip, I-" her shoulders shook as she forced the words out, "I got Le-Leo sick and now Jon hates me and- I wish we had never gone in this st-stupid trip."

Lucas let out a scoff, rubbing her back, "no, Leo got sick, shit happens, it's got nothing to do with you..."

"You-you don't understand," Bella huffed, squirming away from him, "stop touching me."

"Bell..."

"S-stop!" She pushed him away, rolling on her side and curling up on fetal position on the bed, "just-just leave me alone."

Lucas moved away from her on the bed, but he didn't get up, watching her like a hawk. Eventually, the sobs stopped as Bella got knocked back, exhaustion taking her under.

There was a knock on the door and Lucas got up stiffly, cracking his neck. If it was Jon, he was going to wring his neck.

Except it wasn't, it was just Vin, holding a little cupcake, "I brought Bella her favorite."

"She's asleep," Lucas scoffed, moving away from the door to let his best friend in, "can you believe he called me selfish? That idiot?"

Vince shrugged, unbothered as he circled the bed to plant the cupcake near the bedside table on Bella's side and pushed a curl away from her face, "you're gonna wake her up, calm down."

"I'm going to kill him, that's what I'm gonna do," Luke decided, barging for the door, only for Vince to run after him and grab him by the back of his shirt.

"No, you're not. Leo's still sick, you're gonna stop being a prick yourself and sit the fuck down," Vin scoffed, dragging him back inside.

"He made her cry!"

"You helped!" Vince whisper yelled, shutting the door, pinching his nose bridge, "look, I know you're angry. I'd be too if I were in your shoes, but you can't just go deck Jon down. You're an adult, stop that, dude."

Lucas grumbled, crossing his arms and refusing to listen to reason, throwing Bella another anxious and guilty glare, "it's not fair she thinks it's her fault, Vince."

"I know, Luke, but punching Jon isn't gonna change that, it'll just make her feel worse," Vince sighed, sitting on the bed and tucking the blankets tighter around Bella. It caused Lucas' shoulder to drop, the gentle act of affection that Vince clearly wasn't thinking about.

They were his family, he didn't want to punch Jonah, even if he was furious at him. He certainly wasn't happy about Leo feeling sick either.

He settled back down on the chair, picking at to-go box of food, while Vince relaxed, now confident Luke wasn't about barge in the room two doors down.

Lucas was just about to calm down, when Bella stirred on the bed, fifteen minutes later. Vince moved as she lightly kicked him, letting out a groan and rolling on the bed, with a frown on.

"Bell?" Vin called, touching her arm, "you awake?"

She opened her eyes, confused, her brows meeting in a harsh frown, before sitting up suddenly and making a horrible choking noise... And throwing up all over her band t-shirt and the blankets on her lap.

"Fuck!" Vince lurched back, narrowly avoiding getting his arm covered in vomit since he was reaching to thump on her back. Lucas jumped up, circling the bed to grab the waste basket, but it was too late, the mess was made and chaos installed in the room.

"Shit," Luke cursed, holding the paper waste basket under her chin, while Vince moved on the bed to hold her hair back, tears starting to run down her cheek as Bella continued to heave.

"m'sorry-" she slurred, spitting a mouthful of acidic vomit inside the bin, wincing, "my head- my head'hurts..."

"Shhh, it's okay," Lucas whispered, rubbing her back, "it's alright, baby, don't worry about this."

"I made- made a mess," Bella coughed and Vince let out a little noise, bunching up her curls in one hand of his, twisting it in a knot.

"Don't worry about that, I'll take the blankets to the motel's laundry," he whispered, meeting Lucas concerned glare over her head.

"Yeah, I'm gonna help you out of this shirt, baby-" He glanced at Vince who nodded, getting up from the bed and moving to where Luke had unceremoniously dumped their bag hours before.

"Can it be one of yours?" he whispered, crouching down before the clothes and heard Luke's little "sure" as response.

Vince cringed as he fished out the shirt and could hear Bella whimpering and getting sick again, crying about how her head was exploding.

"Is this normal?" he asked, passing Luke the shirt and starting to peel off the ruined blankets from her lap, trying to avoid making a bigger mess.

"Yes... I don't know, I think so. The doctor wasn't very specific," Lucas said, still rubbing her back, "Bell, are you done?"

"I don't know," she groaned, voice echoing inside the bucket, "my stomach hurts."

"You don't think its a bug, is it?" he asked and she shook her head.

"No, everything... Everything just hurts, Luke..."

Vince successfully managed to get the blanket folded up and lifted it up, away from his body, "I'll be right back."

"C'mon, baby, let's get you cleaned up," Luke said, nodding to Vince and wrapping his wife's arms around his neck, lifting her up easily. He planted her sitting on the closed toilet, leaving the new shirt on top of the sink and carefully maneuvering the destroyed one off of her.

"This is so humiliating," Bella whimpered, curling up as Luke wiped her chin and mouth with a wad of toilet paper, "I'm tired, Luke..."

"You can slee-"

"No, I'm tired of this," Bella shook her head, "I'm tired of being sick and in pain, I'm- I'm tired. Please, make it stop..."

His heart squeezed and his eyes stung, causing Lucas to gulp against the knot in his throat, "babe, you're getting better, I promise you... "

"No, I can't, I can't do this anymore," Bella teared up all over again, "I'm so fucking exhausted and everything hurts and I- I made Leo sick and I hate this stupid trip and my stupid brain and-"

"Shhh, you're gonna make yourself sicker," Lucas interrupted, kissing her brow and carefully putting the new shirt over her head, "I know you're in pain, baby, but you have to know Leo wasn't your fault. None of this..."

"Except it fucking was," Bella scoffed, curling up on top of the toilet, hugging her knees to her chest, "I feel awful, Luke..."

There was a knock on the door, so Lucas rolled his eyes, jerking his head so he could yell "It's open!" to Vince, before looking back at her.

"No, it wasn't, Bell-"

"It was though," Bella insisted, a fresh new batch of tears running down her face, "Leo is sick and everything fucking hurts and I- I don't know what to do, I wish we were home..." she whimpered, clutching her head and Lucas flinched as he saw a thin line of blood start to run down her nose.

"We'll be home soon, baby," he said, while frantically rolling up more toilet paper, wiping the blood from under her nose, only for even more to continue to gush down.

"I don't... I don't feel well..." Bella mumbled, paling considerably and Lucas lurched, grabbing her by the shoulders before she could hit her head back against the metal flush.

"I got you, I got you-" except that he didn't. He was in way over his head, worried beyond logic and unsure of what to even do first. Bell's face white and clammy, her throat bobbing nervously as it looked she was about to throw up again, blood still gushing down her nose, covering her lip and her neck-

"Here," Jonah said, sidestepping him and holding a bunch of toilet paper under her nose, grabbing Bella's nose and squeezing the tip, while leaning her forward.

"Get the fuck out of here," Lucas scoffed, but there was no heat, he was too worried and too relieved it was Jon to give a shit.

"Shut up," Jonah kicked his thigh, then gestured for the trashcan, "get the bin, she's gonna be sick."

Lucas scrambled for it, holding it open just in time for Bella to let out yet another stream of vomit, barely gagging, sounding and looking out of it.

Jonah gagged, ducking his face in his shoulder and Luke ignored him, holding Bella's forehead.

"Shhh, get it up, baby..."

"I'mreally-" she burped again, choking in the sick, "m'reallyry-sorry..."

"I know, I know," he whispered, while Jonah let out a guilty whine above her head, rubbing her back.

"It's fine, don't think about it," he said, his voice a notch softer and Bella let out a groan, clutching the bin's edges until her knuckles turned white.

"Everything is spinning..."

"Bella, hey-" Lucas patted her cheek, "don't pass out, baby, open your eyes-"

"Luke," Jonah shook his head, his voice a whisper, "it's okay, she's okay," he said calmly, "I got her."

And he really did, because a second later Bella's spine gave up on her and her whole weight collapsed against Jon's leg. He cupped her head, crouching down to steady her on the seat and shoving Lucas out of the way.

"Let's get her lying down, feet up, it's probably just a blood pressure drop because of the nose bleed..."

If Lucas noticed just how his voice trembled, he didn't say anything. Together they managed to get Bella back in the bedroom, piling some pillows her under her legs to make the blood flow back up and then...

Then there was nothing to do.

Jonah moved uneasily, eyes darting from Bell to Luke and then back again, "I... I shouldn't have said that."

"I care about Leo," Lucas scoffed, at the same time as Jon spoke up.

Jonah let out a groan, rubbing his face, "yeah, I know, I'm just pissed off-"

"And I'm just pissed because you're not being fair with her," Lucas pouted, "if it's on anyone, it's on me. You know I was the one who asked Leo to tag along, not Bell."

"Because of Bella."

"I'm still the one who said it, so at least be pissed at me, not her."

Jonah let out a scoff, rolling his eyes, "I'm always pissed at you, Lucas, there's no difference there."

Luke snorted, carefully combing his fingers through Bella's hair, avoiding the stitches, "how's Leo?"

"Knocked out, still sick, dehydrated. Wendy got him some good drugs though, so I'm hopeful he'll feel better soon..."

An awkward silence followed and they both avoided each other's eyes, before Lucas huffed, "I'm sorry, this trip was a stupid idea."

"It wasn't," Jonah shook his head, "but bad fucking timing..." he sat on the edge of the bed, "I didn't mean to make her cry, I swear I didn't."

Luke raised his eyebrows, unimpressed, "well, you did."

"I'll apologize to her," Jonah promised, his pride be damned. Luke sighed, nodding.

"Fine, if you apologize to her."

"If you apologize to Leo for making him come."

"I didn't make him come."

"Lucas," Jonah glared at him and the other man pouted, nodding again.

"Fine, I'll apologize."

[ashbrat488]

Candy - Chapter 6

Word count: 1089

Cassidy confronts August over lunch...

August glances up at Cassidy as she comes into view where he sits at the small table in the back of the restaurant. He smiles at her as she scowls, removing her yellow peacoat to display curve-hugging jeans and a light blue blouse as she took a seat beside him and lifted the menu in front of her.

Cassidy ignores August in his button-up, his tie loosened around his neck. She ignores how good he looks, as he brings his hand up to smooth his forefinger and thumb over his mustache. She smiles at the waitress as she greets the table. "I'll have the New York Strip."

"12 or 16 oz?" The waitress glances at August as he just sits quietly, waiting for Cassidy to finish.

"16. Medium. And a bottle of the Cabernet." She hands the menu to the waitress as August chuckles.

"Same for me is fine." He hands over his own menu, not taking his eyes off Cassidy as she finally glares back at him. "So? To what do I owe this pleasure?"

She takes a deep breath, trying to remain calm as they were in public. "What do you think you're doing?"

August chuckles, looking around the restaurant as the waitress comes up to them with a bottle of wine and two glasses. He rolls up his sleeves as Cassidy watches the veins on his forearms, getting momentarily distracted as the waitress poured them both some wine. He nodded at her, waiting for her to walk away before looking back at Cassidy. "I don't know what you mean. You invited me here, Ms. Turner. Called me in the middle of the day at work and insisted I buy you lunch."

She huffs, shaking her head before bringing the wine up to her lips. The wine is dry and bitter and she forces herself to swallow it as August smirks at her amused.

"You don't like it?"

She smiles as he takes his own drink, and she forces herself to take another. She made a show of ordering the most expensive bottle, and she was not going to let him win. "It's fine."

"So, doll..." he leans toward her at the table as she swallows hard, the endearment shooting straight through her as she recalled their last time together. "What are we doing here? I can get us a hotel room for the night..."

She scoffs, leaning toward him too. "No! Why did you pay for my school? And my student loans?"

"Did I?" He asks with a flirty smile, cocking his head to the side.

"Fuck you, Walker!" She spits as he grips her wrist, his smile falling as his brows furrowed and his eyes darkened.

"Watch your mouth, doll. You should be saying thank you, August. Don't give me attitude or I'm going to beat it out of you."

She could only nod as he released her, leaning back in his chair. She knew it was a threat and a promise and it was one she wanted him to follow through on. She took a large gulp of the wine, trying to stifle the sour face as she set the glass back on the table and August chuckled. "You know what I mean. Why?"

"Because I could." He responds nonchalantly with a small shrug as she just seethes, becoming angrier. "You could always work it off with me in a hotel room."

"No." She shakes her head with a groan as she feels August rest his hand on her thigh under the table.

"I miss you, doll." He rubs her thigh, moving his hand to her inner thigh, his pinky reaching her pussy as he hears a sharp intake of air. "Don't you miss our time together? Don't you miss the feel of my cock claiming your pussy?"

She feels her face heat, turning red as she leans away from him, shoving his hand away and avoiding the gaze of the waitress as she set their steaks in front of them. When they're alone, Cassidy picks at her plate. "I do what I do because I do it on my own terms. No one else's. You can't manipulate me into doing what you want, August."

"So think of it as a gift then. A bonus. Speaking of..." he brings his hand up, running his fingers gently along her collarbone and up her neck as she trembled slightly, "why aren't you wearing the necklace I bought you?"

"Because," she brings her hand up to her neck where his hand just was, "my boyfriend didn't like me wearing something from a client."

"He knows what you do?" August is surprised at this revelation as he cuts into his steak, taking a large bite.

"Yes. I don't lie about it. He just isn't allowed to know who my clients are. But I keep my relationships neat and clean so that I don't even know who they really are. And you had to go and fuck that up, didn't you?"

August laughs, much to her chagrin, obviously annoyed. "Look, I was surprised as you were. But you're here now and I don't want to sever our relationship."

"Well I do..." she spits, knowing he was about as convinced as she felt, which was not at all.

He nods, letting it go to change the subject. "So, major in economics and minor in art? Why art?"

"Because I like art and you know nothing about me, August." She flags down the waitress, handing over the plate she barely touched. "Can you box this for me, please? Also a slice of your white chocolate cheesecake."

The waitress glances at August as if asking for permission as he only nods, chuckling. He looks back at Cassidy with a grin. "I might not know much about you yet, but I will." He leans toward her, hovering his face inches from hers to really drive the point home. "And I know you miss me. I know you miss our time together. I will have you again."

She shakes her head, not moving from her spot. "Keep dreaming, August Walker." She stands up and pulls on her coat as August watches her accept the bag of food from the waitress.

He sighs, pulling his phone out, and messaging The Contractor.

August: She's on her way back home.

He pulls out his wallet and sets some cash on the table before grabbing his jacket and leaving the restaurant. The lunch didn't exactly go as well as he had hoped. But he knew he was leaving with the knowledge that she still wanted him too. And that was enough for him to work with... for now.

Chapter 7 Candy

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[httpsdana]

Heyy can you do prompt 90 and 92 with Eric García? Where reader is like one of the Barca players little sister (and they aren’t allowed to date) and they get in an argument because reader doesn’t want to be a secret anymore. Sorry if that’s to complicated. Love your work btw it is great!!! <33

Misunderstanding~Eric Garcia

*GIF isn't mine. credits to the owner*

this isnt exactlt what you requested but something similar. I'm sorry if you don't like it but enjoy <3

you can request from my prompt list

this is my master list

players/drivers I write for

90-“honestly? I am so fucking tired of being your secret.”

92-“I really never meant for me to hurt you.” “but you did.”

A few months ago

"do you wanna go out for lunch? my friend told me about this restaurant that has some really good food" y/n suggested, sitting herself down next to Eric

Eric lets out a sigh, before looking up at y/n

"you know we can't do that" he said, making y/n roll her eyes

"why not?" she asked, annoyed by his answer

"Ansu should never know about us. and going out would just make it very obvious. our pictures would be online in seconds" he replied, he too getting annoyed

y/n let out a frustrated sigh

"I told you Ansu doesn't care. we could just tell him and he wouldn't give a shit if we're dating or not" she explained, this not being the first time they fight over this topic

She has always wanted to tell eveyone they're dating, but Eric avoided the topic, saying Ansu would freak out if he knew his sister was dating one of his best friends

It was getting frustrating to the point were y/n was starting to think he's ashamed of her.

"I don't want to risk my friendship with your brother just because you think he wouldnt care. what if he does? I would lose you and Ansu too. And I don't want that" he raised his voice a bit, getting angry at how she was acting

“honestly? I am so fucking tired of being your secret.” she yelled back

"then maybe we should break up!" he yelled back, immediately regrating his words, but he still kept silent not wanting to give in easily

y/n was surprised by his answer but nodded her head anyways, ignoring the aching in her heart

"yeah maybe its better that way. I'll come take my stuff tomorrow when you're at training. bye Eric" she said before taking her phone and walking out of the door of his apartment

Present Time

It has been months since that fight, and y/n would lie if she said she was over Eric. They had been dating since Eric arrived to Barcelona, and he meant a lot to her.

"hey you ready?" Ansu asked, appearing at the door of his sister's bedroom

"yeah, let me just grab a jacket" she got her jacket and followed her brother

It was the first match at their temporarily stadium, before the Liga started, and it would be the first time she'll see Eric after their nasty break up

"are you gonna be okay?" Ansu asked, placing his hand on her shoulder

She smiled and nodded her head. She told him everything. He knows about her and Eric. And knows what happened between them. She made him promise not to tell Eric and not to act differently around him

"yeah don't worry. I'm gonna have to face him sooner or later" she shrugged, before they started heading to the stadium

After a brilliant win for barça, y/n found herself walking to the pitch with the other WAGs, to congratulate the players for the amazing game they had.

She walked to Ansu, wrapping her arms around him from behind, making him turn around

"that goal was amazinggg. I'm so proud of you" she hugged him tightly

"thank you y/n... go talk with Eric yeah?" he whispered, y/n's smile slowly fading, before she nodded

Ansu pointed towards Eric, who was looking at them already. Ansu pressed a kiss on her forehead before ushering her towards Eric

"hey" Eric mumbled, as soon as y/n stood in front of him

"hi" she said back in the same low voice

"how are you doing?" he asked

"been better" she shrugged, making the guilt rush over Eric's face

“I really never meant for me to hurt you.” he said, the guilt and regret evident in his voice

“but you did.” she said back, finally looking up to meet his eyes

Eric didn't say anything, only avoided her eyes and nodded his head

"Ansu knows by the way. I told him everything, and he said he wouldn't have minded us dating" she said blankly, making Eric's eyes snap to hers

"he did?" he asked, not believeing it. If it was true then he was an idiot for breaking up with her because of that

"yeah. he was the one who told me to come talk to you now too" she said

"I'm so sorry y/n. If I had known Ansu would agree i-" he was interrupted by y/n

"if you had believed me from the first time I told you Ansu doesn't care then maybe we would've still been together now and I'd be wearing your name on my back and not my brother's" she said back in a sharp tone

"I'm really sorry y/n. that was a dick move and I should've believed you from the start. please let me make it up to you" he begged, grabbing her hands in his

y/n thought about it. She missed Eric so much, and just wanted to have him back. But she didn't want to seem as if she's jumping to the first chance she got to get back with him

"how do I know you won't do the same thing as before" she asked

"I promise you it won't. Let me take you out for dinner, let's post pictures together. wear my name on you back. let's have what we had before again. let's let everyone know that I love you, and I never stopped loving you" he was begging her for her chance, a chance to make it up for everything he messed up

She smiled and nodded her head, making Eric smile too. He kissed her forehead and wrapped his arms around her

She snaked her arms around his waist and hugged him back

"I promise you won't regret it" he mumbled into her hair

Ansu watched his sister and teammate together. He gave y/n the thumbs up, making her smile and wave at him

[heartfullofleeches]

so i read ur doll reader thing i love it sooo fucking much!!! like💞💞 aaaaaa💞!! i immediately got an idea/concept thing i wnna share:

so, like, initially, i thought doll reader was like a lifesize scale of what you would be in real life; so like if u snthn like 5"7 (me), or 6"4, or even 4"11-5"3 in real life, that's how big doll reader would be to scale yk?? does this make sense

so my thought w the above paragraph is like,, can you imagine someone stealing doll reader (regardless of how big/small they are) from the store or the yandere's home? like a giant ass heist for an exquisite doll that most would DREAM of having. imagine a robber seeing how expensive doll reader looks, and then just takes you (it? its technically you) w/out rlly thinking much.

can you also imagine if the robber also became a yandere for doll reader?? like maybe your looks were too good to give up, too gorgeous to sell for a very pretty penny. the robber buys the tools needed to keep you (it?) in mint condition, buying a giant (depending on your size ig) glass case in order to maintain a pristine appearance. strives for a higher paying job to afford the tools. (remember; you're (it's?) something literally few can afford! any price is worth it!) learns sewing in case moths ever somehow eat your clothes, in case stitches ever came loose or frayed, whatever the reason may be.

thats the end of the concept~ ; what're your thoughts? 😀

(It's cute! Reader is really just a doll -for now- and is in fact human sized)

"Okay, Y/n. I'm leaving now. Be good till I get back, okay?"

The shop owner kisses their doll's forehead, straightening out their coat as they prepare to head out. They really didn't want to leave you alone in the toy store all by your lonesome, but carrying around a proportionately accurate doll wouldn't be the best decision and draws more unwanted eyes to you. They normally tried not to go out for lunch, but didn't have time to get anything packed this morning.

"Take care, darling." The shop owner strokes your cheek before they finally take their leave. They lock every door and close every curtain, yet hesitation still plagues them. A rumble from their stomach finally drags them from the front door. Feedback clicks from a radio as they walk down the empty streets.

"Target has left the building. If we hurry, we should be able to get done before they return and avoid any interaction."

"Got it."

Two masked individuals round to the back of the toy store; both taking swings at the heavy duty lock with blunt objects until it finally pops from frame. They rush inside, staying low to the ground as they head to the front floor. The cash register and priceless toys lay about the stores display, but it's all ignored for the single doll sitting behind the counter. One of the robber's holds up a picture to make sure its the correct one; eagering a light smack to their arm from their companion.

"Hey, you see any other life sized dummies in here? Go grab it."

The former massages their sore arm, sneaking behind the counter to retrieve what they came to steal. They pause for a moment to look at it. They could see why the owner loved it so. In the weeks the group had been scouting the place, they nearver parted from it. It really was a beautiful doll and so lifelike too. The seed of guilt grew in their stomach. Their friends were in deep waters and needed the money offered by their employer, but this sorta felt like actual kidnapping. They thought this would be a painless transaction since the money from this doll alone would be enough to cover the debts.

"Hurry up, Kris!"

Kris snaps out it and grabs the doll, throwing it over their shoulder. Their radio chimes as they wall from behind the counter.

"Get outside, they're coming back!"

The duo run outside just as a van pulls into the alley way. They hop in the back, Kris losing balance from their panic. The doll falls over in their lap as they lay on the floor. They look at it, slamming the door shut before pulling it to their chest. As the car speeds off - they swear they can hear a scream.

-

"Fucking pick up!"

Kris stares into the doll's eyes from across a coffee table. One of their friends paces back and forth, shouting into their phone while the other snacks on chips beside them. The doll blanky stares back. They blush.

"God fucking damn it!"

Kris jumps as a cellular device is hurled into the couch cushion beside them. Their friend crashes down onto it with a defeated sigh,

"The buyer is not answering. Probably sleep or some shit by now, but the deal was supposed to happen tonight. What are we going to do with that thing in my house over night."

"Me neither." A voice chimes.

"I can take them!" Kris blurts out. The other two give them an offhanded glance. The first just blows out another breath of hot air.

"Fine whatever, take it. Use the van so nobody seems you hauling it around and we'll figure things out tomorrow. "

-

Kris loads the doll into the passenger seat and heads home. They take off their jacket and fit of over the doll to further avoid suspicion. They noticed the doll's head was slightly off centered - likely from the tumble during the escape. They carefully push it back into place.

"Sorry about that... What am I saying- Hm?"

As they turn its head, the see letters tucked under its shirt collar. "Y/n? That's your name? I think I remember that shop owner mentioning something like that.... Let's get you inside."

Kris knows they shouldn't be talking to a doll, but the habit sticks fast. They scoop you up once more and take you up to their house.

-

The first few hours are spent just examining you. The details are insane. Even small things like birthmarks and blemishes were included. It just added to the wonder of your build. You had full range of mobility with jointed fingers on top of that. Your eyes closed, hair as soft as cotton, and your clothes were fancier than any they'd seen outside of a fairytale or movie.

"You really are beautiful...."

Kris can't imagine a human prettier than you. They wonder what your voice would be like if you had one; what you personality would you have. They wondered if you could've became friends.

"There's got to be something wrong with me..."

They turn off their lights and head to bed; watching you in their computer chair from the street lights that seep beneath their blinds.

-

Relief is one way to describe how Kris feelings the next morning, even with the gravity of the news they receive.

"Mother fucker's dead."

"What?"

"The buyer. His house caught fire the other night and he was trapped inside. Probably didn't have much longer to live either way.

"Oh...."

"Sorry about getting you caught in this mess. We'll figure out what we do with the doll. Maybe some other rich asshole wants it."

"O-okay. Let me know." Kris hangs up; remorse and excitement heavy on their conscious. The former washes away as they look over at you, still resting in the chair. You were slumped back, eyes had closed from the position. It looked like you were sleeping as well. How cute.

Kris sits you up straight. Your clothes looked more scuffed than they remembered. There was even a tear on your sleeve. They were thankful no harm came to your body or they'd really be in trouble. Sewing was a lesser evil, and they had some pointers from past experiences with relatives. Nothing the internet couldn't improve.

-

Taking care of you becomes a fun hobby for Kris. After learning to properly sew, they notice your hair becoming tangled. They buy a special brush for it, and comb it every night before bed. They also become more open about speaking with you. Telling you all about their day and scolding you when they put you in a place they forgot, alongside the occasional compliment.

Their friends blew up their phone the following week and even showed up to their house; receiving no response from any of these attempts. They eventually stopped. Kris saw reports of the missing doll and the reward its original owner offered, but they were simply ignored. As many had said, you were priceless afterall.

Returning home from a long day of work, Kris picks you up from the couch and carries you to the bedroom. They lay you down on your side of the bed and crawl beside you; not even bothering you take off their work clothes or shoes as they snuggle up against you. They've been sharing the bed with you since the second night they brought you home. The chair is bad for your posture.

"Ah, I had a long day today, Y/n, but I'm glad to be home with you." They cry into the pillows. They grab your hand and place it over their head, looking at you with lidded eyes. "So please hold me and make me feel better, okay?"

[sentientgopro]

So, the other day, I told the first other person I know IRL that I cracked, over a month after it happened, and it was, well, weird.

The reason for it being this person in particular was that I know, damn well, they get it. Hell, they're a massive egg themselves, their words, not mine. So I knew if I was gonna tell anyone, they had to be first.

I didn't wanna outright bring it up to them if I could avoid it, so I started with small hints every now and again, like being a little too careless with keeping my phone close to me while I had an r/egg_irl or r/traaaaaa... post on my feed. They commented on it when they saw egg irl, I told them Im not an egg, they looked at me as if to say "yeaahhh sure about that buddy" and I followed up by saying an egg is someone who hasn't realised it, And I realised a month ago.

Idk if I wasn't clear enough, it was kinda loud in the room, of whether they thought I was joking, but they didn't really react to it at the time.

It wasn't until we went on a walk to get lunch a week or so later, and they kinda got into something a bit personal out of the blue, and it really set the tone of "we dont normally talk about shit but we can do that right now." As it goes, the thing they were talking about could feed kinda well into me being more upfront with what I was trying to say. I repeated the same "Im not an egg" trick I did last time but clearer, and we had a back and forth exchange of

"But In a cis way right?"

"No."

"But in a-"

"No."

"...

...

...But in a-"

"no."

and it kinda seemed to catch them off guard a bit, being so upfront with what I was saying. As I said, they say themself that they're a massive egg, as a joke, ofcourse. But I think they were so suprised by me doing that because they feel the same way but are down so many layers deep in "in a cis way, still cis tho". And it kinda makes me wonder if me being so upfront and honest with myself about it will help them be honest to themself. Either way, I feel like I'm starting to read too much into someone elses emotions and make assumptions based on nothing.

Other than the initial suprise, they didn't really react much and have much else to say, and I really think thats a good outcome? Like, they get my situation, I can't start transitioning for a while, so they understand that I'm not really trans yet, Im just telling them how I feel, and kinda reacted like that was the case. The most they said was when I was talking about how I just kinda gotta manage it for now until I can move out and they said "Fuck it, we ball" and I was just like. Exactly, you get exactly what I mean.

So its weird, because while it feels like a massive deal to me and feels kinda anticlimactic, I dont really want to be treated like its a massive deal yet? Because really, nothing has or will change for a long time, and thats part of the reason I havent come out to more people yet, because its just gonna be awkward to continue like I never said anything afterwards. But this was good.

So, this has been a fairly aimless log just generally talking about my first experience kinda coming out as trans (not my first experience of coming out, plenty of people know Im Ace) so I wanted to write down my thoughts on it. After so many posts like this, it still feels kinda silly, but I guess the whole point of blogs is that theyre kinda like public diaries? idk.

Its also worth noting this was part of one of my 3 goals for this year, to start kinda coming out to people. I doubt Ill tell anyone else, maybe one other person I can trust, but idk. As for the other 2, I really havent made a great deal of progress with planning my transition, but thats fine, its January. As for "100%ing Celeste to the best of my ability?" Kind already done after 40hrs and just over a month of having it. I thought thatd take me alot longer lmfao. So, update to that one, lets say, Strawberry Jam done up to expert lobby? Sure, why not.

[kimwexlers-brownhair]

Oh back to Yellowsuccess! I think after the plane crash Logan would become obsessive trying to arrange a rescue until enough time passed for him to "cut his losses" and shut down, and things would get even nastier between him and Kendall because of how it seems that he's brushing off the disappearance of his supposed favorite child like it's nothing and Kendall takes out his own feelings of guilt for being a shitty brother onto him. He's also the first to recognize that Shiv is probably dead while Roman is the last, coming up with elaborate scenarios in his head for what she might be doing and maybe for a while believing he's got some kind of psychic connection with her. And then of course things gets Very weird when it turns out she's been alive after all.

Logan is not an idealist. He never claimed to be.

Look, life's not a walk in the fucking park. It's a rollercoaster that goes off the rails onto the crowd below. If you’re lucky, you scramble over the crushed bodies beneath you out of the wrecked train, bleeding all over the cotton candy squeezed in a dead fist. It's a shitstorm.

Terrible things happen. People die.

You can't make it to the soccer match that gets your daughter's team into Nationals. There have been too many whispers about cruises lately, so you need to be at that board meeting. To make up for it, you hire a few nonunion mechanics to spruce up one of your recently decommissioned private planes so your daughter and her teammates can fly to Seattle in a little luxury. The thing's no hunk of junk, just a little smaller and more delicate than the top of the line, newest models. It's not like they're flying to fucking Hong Kong. Compared to the far flung cities Logan regularly flies to, a quick trip over Canada from New York to Seattle is a mere hop, skip, and a jump. It'll be fine.

But no, actually, because the fucking plane crashes somewhere in the Canadian rockies.

Terrible things happen. People die.

But Siobhan --

Siobhan's not People. Siobhan is his.

It is nearly four in the afternoon. Logan skims over another damn contract about some obnoxious port problem off the coast of Brazil. ATN drones on in the background about Dubya's daring new Medicare cuts. Outside the glass doors he suddenly hears hurried feet, rushed whispers. He glances up and a PA is darting here, another darting there, and here comes Gerri looking pale as if she's about to lose her lunch. Frank and Karl follow, looking about the same. The new press girl Karolina trails them, speaking rapidly into her phone.

"What," he barks as they hussle in. God, don't tell him there's another NRPI situation he needs to sign away discreetly while deliberatey avoiding the written details. On top of this fucking Brazil thing --

But no, Gerri's pallor, Frank's stony expression --

"Logan," Gerri's voice is weaker than he's ever heard it, but as always she's keeping it together. "Logan, it's Shiv."

It doesn't occur to him. Not yet. But Gerri's face.

"What about her?"

Her tongue darts over her lips quickly and he's never seen her like this.

"The plane" --

Karolina cuts in, shifting her phone away from her mouth. "It's leaked. I've given Cyd the go-ahead so ATN can announce it first."

Gerri closes her eyes.

Fear, fear Logan is mostly able to keep at bay, rushes in like a flood from the creek Rose drowned herself in --

"Someone fucking tell me right now or you're all fired!"

Before they answer, from the TV comes, "We're getting word now that a private plane carrying a high school girls' soccer team to Nationals in Seattle has lost contact with airport authorities after being overtaken by a storm surge over the Canadian Rockies. It's early hours yet, but authorities fear the plane went down --"

Water, rushing water all up and down inside him, plummeting.

Nothing's quite real anymore.

Rose....

But Siobhan is not Rose. Siobhan is a scrappy fighter like him, a survivor. She has Ewan's annoying habit of disagreeing with him. She has her mother's acid tongue, his mother's grit. She has none of Rose's vulnerability. They don't even look that much alike outside of the coloring --well, okay, that's not strictly true, they look a little bit alike, okay, now that Logan thinks about it, they look a lot alike -- but they're not the same.

No. Shiv's tough. Shiv's tough. She's a survivor. She's his whip-smart Pinky with the wicked smile, his little hell-raiser confidant. His girl.

Logan doesn't believe in any of that woo wee woo, cosmic bullshit about feeling whether someone close to you is alive or not, but...Logan would know.

Shiv is his blood, his self. Add Shiv and her brothers up and they equal Logan. Ken, Rome, and yes, Connor -- sometimes they make up the parts Logan loathes about himself. But not Shiv.

So he would know if she was -- he would feel it, no matter how much he disavows that spiritual shit.

He doesn't feel it, not now. He didn't feel this coming at all. Shiv is alive. Shiv is alive.

Shiv is alive, so he has to act, now.

"Call DC," he says to no one in particular and so that means everyone. "Tell Cheney we need a search party. Top of the line military OP types, no bleeding heart volunteer morons. If he flinches, tell him we've been sitting on that story about the Chump-in-Chief falling off the wagon in Key West. Tell Laird to pucker up and suck off whatever Canadian officials we need to get full access beyond the border. Who's overseeing this? Get me on the line with them, now."

This is different from Rose because he is in control now. Total control.

Evening. The door opens and Roman is there in the study. His eyes are more haunted and frightened than Ken can ever remember them being, and Rome often wore that look in his childhood.

They embrace.

"Like, what the fuck, man? What the fuck," Roman asks into his shoulder.

Ken gives him a squeeze. "It's going to be okay, Rome. Shiv's too much of a bitch to go down that way."

Roman hiccups a laugh. "Yeah, she probably pushed the pilots out of the way and landed the thing herself. She's going to get those poor bastards fired."

They don't separate until Connor arrives. He wraps them both in his arms.

"Hey, guys. Whatever happens, it will be okay."

Both secretly resent him saying that, since it implies something might happen.

The door opens and here comes their father. He whispers a few words in Gerri's direction and for once shuts her and the rest out to address them.

Sill, when he speaks, his voice is as impersonal as the one he uses when trying to boost morale amongst hired underlings. Almost light, airy.

The only difference is his eyes. They're glassy. Unfocused. He doesn't meet any of their gazes.

He claps, starts. "Boys, uh, glad you're here. Glad you're here. Thank you for coming. Uh, it's all good. All good. We've got search parties setting off now. And we're getting word they've picked up a signal from the plane's transmittor. So it won't take long now."

He hasn't once said even her name.

Still, not just for Logan, but for Roman, Kendall says, "Yeah. Yeah. Of course. It's, like, impossible for a plane to completely go missing these days. They'll find the signal and pick them up."

"Right." The briefest of nods from his father, a rare sign of acknowledgement, thanks. He takes in a breath and finally brings her up. "Your sister's tough, now. She's tough. She's going to be just fine. Isn't she, Connor?"

Connor's sitting on the back of the sofa, and his face is grim. Still he nods. "Sure, Pa. Sure."

Roman's too much in shock to notice what they're doing. It's for him. With Shiv gone, Roman is the baby. It's a show for him.

The youngest son says nothing, just gives a weak smile behind the fingers covering his face. His shoulders are hunched upward like a dog mincing away from the whip.

"Uh-huh. Okay." Logan's eyes wander over the room. If they didn't know him, they'd think he was a confused old man who doesn't quite remember where he is. But Dad's not old, they all tell themselves. He's not. And he knows what he's doing. He's just a little...unsettled. "Thank you, boys. Thank you."

"Uh, dad," Kendall clears his throat. "Is there...is there anything I - we can do right now? Like, does the search party need volunteers?"

"Huh? Oh, no, son. We've got top of the line -- it's taken care of. "

"Okay. How about, how about Mom? Does - she knows, right? Or --"

"Ah? Oh, your mother. Uh, yes, I'm sure she knows by now. Someone must have...I mean, if you want to call her..."

"Sure, dad. Sure. I can do that."

Logan's gaze finally rests on Kendall, and there's true warmth there. "Thank you, Kenny. Okay, boys, I'll keep you posted." Then, without another word or glance, he leaves the boys behind him, their haunted eyes on his retreating back.

It's about five in the morning when Logan's bedside phone starts ringing. He's only been in bed for three hours, and been asleep for just about one. He'd just been dreaming of a campfire, and girls were laughing. Shiv's face is covered in soot but she's smiling, eyes sparkling as she knocks shoulders with one of her teammates --

However, he's awake instantly and answers. "What? Siobhan?"

Gerri. Her voice is very quiet, which means there's bad news.

Logan listens.

His veins are on fire. He's sitting on the edge of the bed and the darkness of the room turns red. "What? How? How can they lose the fucking signal? Those boxes are supposed to be goddamn indestructible, aren't they?...I don't fucking care that they're doing their best, Gerri, I need them to...well, don't they fucking know by now where the signal was coming from before it went away? Didn't they have jets going there?...oh, don't give me that garbage about the storm, I fucking know about the storm, that's how the plane -- interference? Fucking...what the fuck good are those fucking boxes if they can't give you the correct location through a fucking storm? Don't give me any shit about interference, Gerri!"

He listens a few moments more, breath chugging out of his nostrils like a bull ready to charge. "Well, you tell Cheney and the air force that I don't give a fuck. Tell them to keep pushing. This isn't some run of the mill commercial flight with some hodunk assholes from Iowa flying to Florida for vacation, this is my daughter. In fact, there are a lot of fucking important daughters on that plane. Tell that reptile that if he wants his braindead idiot reelected, I better not hear one fucking word about the operation slowing down. Fucking got that, Ger?"

He slams the phone down. His nerves are open and raw, and the darkness is too close and Shiv is out there, she's out there and the signal is gone.

From below, Richard, giving the morning's instructions to staff, hears a roar and the phone crash against Logan's bedroom wall.

Eleven-and-a-half months later, Kendall has to see it on the news like everyone else.

He doesn't give Richard any time to warn Logan before he bursts into his father's home office. His father is not at his desk but sitting on the couch holding a scotch, staring at nothing.

"What the fuck, Dad? What is this? You're fucking calling off the search?"

His father doesn't move, doesn't look at him. "It's been almost a year, Kendall." His voice is a thousand years old.

"So? That's it? We're done? You're not gonna fucking..."

"Not gonna fucking what, Kendall?" At last his father turns to face him, and his glazed eyes are even older than his voice. "We've done everything. Searched everywhere in that damn wilderness." His eyes are on the amber liquid in his glass. "Nothing."

"W-well," Ken's stammer is back. "We-we-we can"--

"Kendall," his voice is sharp, commanding. "It's done. There's no going back. Your sister..." Kendall must be rocking on his feet, because it looks like his father is swaying. "Your sister is gone." His voice cracks at gone.

But Kendall won't hear it. "Come on. Come on, Dad. It's not like you to give up like that. We"--

"The shareholders aren't going to want anymore money going to a search party that isn't finding anything."

"So that's what it all comes down to? Fucking money? Dad? Again? That's all that matters to you, now even?"

He sees the storm cloud gathering in his father's face. "We can't keep throwing resources" --

"Throwing resources? That's what you call funding the search party to find your fucking daughter? Your alleged favorite?"

"Don't fucking push me, son."

"No, this is -- wait." Ken's eyes cast about the room. "What...where?" He cranes his head all around, checking every end table, every surface. "Dad, where..." his eyes focus back on his father. "Dad, where are her pictures?"

Logan says nothing, stares into nothing, his face saying nothing. The only horror is in his wide glazed eyes.

Kendall points to the hutch against the wall. "The picture of her and Rome as kids? Her yearbook picture on your desk? The team on the wall? Where...where the fuck are they, Dad? Where did you put them?"

Logan's voice is as low as it is ever capable of being. "They're in her room. Which is locked."

Ken is too numb for a second, but then the pain and anger burst out. "In her room? Locked away? Like she never even fucking existed? Jesus fucking Christ, Dad"--

Logan is all at once on his feet, the drink slammed down on the coffee table. "And what the fuck have you been doing, Kendall? Hm? What have you been doing to find your sister? All this time, playing with your dick in your overpriced dorm room at that Ivy League dump instead of joining the search party?"

Kendall doesn't know whether to laugh or scream. "You told me not to volunteer, Dad. You told me not to interrupt my education. You said I wouldn't know what I was doing and I'd only get in the way"--

Logan's red face is inches in front of his. "Oh, you needed my permission, hm? My permission to go out and find your baby sister?"

"That's not fair" --

"GO ON. FUCK OFF. Your sister is gone, Kendall, and no amount of mewling about her pictures is going to bring her back. So, GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE AND STOP WASTING ANY MORE OF MY GODDAMN TIME."

Logan turns away and marches over to his desk. His back is to Kendall, but Ken sees his arm go up over his face. Blocking everything out.

A stab of love. "Dad, I" --

"Go on, Kendall. Go on. Go and see to your brother. I can't right now. I need...I need some time."

Roman's sitting on the stairs when Kendall comes out. He's been home since everything started, "for Dad", he says. As if Logan has noticed at all. He's insisted throughout that Kendall stay at Harvard, but he's never given a serious shit about what Roman does.

"Is...is it true? He's called off the search party?"

"Yeah, Rome. Yeah, it's true."

"But why?" His voice breaks. He's trembling. "Why would he do that?"

Ken feels empty, like a clockwork man. He parrots his father. "It's been close to a year, Roman."

"So?" Roman is on his feet, arms wrapped around his slim body. He's been losing more and more weight recently. "That doesn't mean anything. If...if they're close to water, if there's game, they can still be..."

"Roman." Kendall closes his eyes, breathes. "Roman, she's gone."

A jolt shakes Roman's body. "Oh, fuck you, Kendall. You don't know that."

"Rome" --

"You don't know that. Anything could have happened!"

"We would have heard by now."

"Not necessarily! There's a lot of fucking wilderness out there."

"Right, so the chances of them making it this long"--

He stops short as Roman suddenly shoves him hard in the chest.

"Shut up! Just shut the fuck up, man! You don't know shit!"

"Hey, hey, Roman" --

"No! Fuck you! What, they teach you about surviving in the woods in your fucking Harvard business classes?" Another shove. "You're just fucking useless."

Kendall can't take it and he spits back. "Oh, yeah? Well, at least I'm not delusional."

"I'm not delusional."

"Yes, you are. This whole time you've never even considered that she might be" --

"Because"-- Roman cuts himself off and turns away, hands on the back of his head.

Kendall frowns. "Because what, Rome?" His shoulders slump. "Not because of your dreams. Bro, please don't tell me that."

Rome's arms are crossed again, still turned away from his brother. "Fine, I won't," he mumbles.

"They're just dreams, Roman," Kendall says for about the millionth time.

They started soon after the plane went missing. Shiv almost burning up on the crashed plane, but Roman tore off the seat belt so she could escape. Shiv happily splashing her friends in a lake they just discovered. A creepy cabin in the woods. A dark-haired girl wailing over a frozen body as the first snows fell.

Roman would never meet Ken's eyes when telling him, usually as they sat on his bed in the evening. He'd stare at his bedspread and say, "I don't know, they just feel really...real. Like I'm actually in front of her. Sometimes she sees me and gets really shocked but we..talk and stuff."

Ken never said much in reply.

He didn't want to say he'd been having the same dreams.

And now, he just won't put up with it. "You don't have some kind of psychic connection with her, okay? Like, you're not even twins, you're Irish twins." Born barely a year apart. Logan liked to throw the term around because he knew it bothered their old-English mother who deep down carried an ancient bigotry against the Irish like the rest of her family.

Roman finally faces him. "Yeah, I fucking know that, okay? But they feel more like visions than dreams"--

Kendall now shoves him hard, because he just had a flash of his own dream from last night, of Shiv stumbling in the snow and sniffling. She looked so relieved when she saw Kendall standing there in the cold, ready to help her up.

Another shove, and Roman whimpers. "You're fucking delusional, Roman. She's gone. She's dead, all right? She's fucking dead."

He doesn't wait to take in his brother's tears. He storms out of the house, pushing past Richard.

Roman collapses on the steps.

Logan can hear his youngest boy's sobs through the closed door. He's relieved. They're covering the choking sounds he himself is making. He's slouched over the window seat, clutching the curtains.

He can't stop it now, tears cloud everything.

Just last night he was sitting by Siobhan on the bank of that frozen lake again. She was wrapped up in that patchwork coat made out of bear and deer skins. He could see scars on her face. That wolf nightmare was true. His arm was around her, and he was telling her stories about how he and Ewan used to ice fish.

A little over nine months later, the call comes. Crash site found.

Survivors found.

[assortedvillainvault]

Can I get more headcanons about the DV'Cule messing with the waiter? How often would they go back to the restaurant and would they insist that the reader serve every time?

Ehehehehehe Yeeeesssssss..!

So they're not going to come back as a whole group often, resturant owners to be kinda twitchy after the last incident and they all have busy schedules being evil and sexy and whatnot, but you definitely notice an uptick of villainous attendance when you're on shift.

ONLY when you're on shift.

Your Manager crumbles like a wet paper napkin when you confront him about it. He asks what else he was supposed to do other than hand your shift schedule over when villains come knocking???

Maybe not fucking do that becuase it's seven shades of illegal but hey here we are. You get a new phone and resolve to move apartments asap just in case he handed out anything more than your abhorrent working hours to nine of the worst villains in the 'Verse.

Maleficent and Ursula come for lunch semi regularly and have all but staked a claim on a booth in the back. You're semi sure one of them cursed it.

You have never fucking seen Facilier use the front door or come in through the lobby. You turn around sometimes and he's just there with a rackish smile and a drinks menu and you just have to go with the flow. You're getting pretty good at avoiding Shadow's attempts to trip you at least.

(On days where sunlight is particularly bright you'll 'lose' the curtain hooks closest to his table. Bokor and his shadow get antsy otherwise and appreciate the shade.)

Ooogie Boogie is Banned. Banned with a capital B becuase unleashing a swarm of cockroaches when you were too busy to serve him nearly caused a stampede. You will not hesitate to get the bug spray and/or a makeshift flamethrower if you see that hessian sack come within three feet of the building and you're damn lucky that the other villains find this hilarious enough to let it slide.

Hades is perhaps the sole member of the DV'Cule to utilise a 'take out' service. An order will materialise in a burst of blue fire, smack you in the forehead, and hover over your shoulder until you appear with the requested food. Said food will also burst into blue flames and teleport presumably to the underworld. Chances of a bill and/or tip appearing shortly thereafter are 50/50.

Hook is one of the only members you almost look forward to seeing. He's polite, appreciative of your efforts (provided everything goes smoothly) and tends to leave a tip more often than not. The rest of the staff have learned to fear your sign language for 'Rum' though.

Jafar will usually arrive with either Hook or Maleficent, and on these occasions you're beneath his notice enough that he's only mildly infuriating. When he's alone you've learned to yeet yourself across the resturant and serve him first, before he hypnotises another poor server into giving him free drinks. Will deliberately drive you mad for his own amusement, worst customer, creepy in all the wrong ways.

It's very rare that you will see the Headless Horseman or the Horned King. And when you do, they're almost always together. They're a quiet couple that prefer a back table and the Good Wine, and despite their affect on the ambient temperature (it's almost always cold near them) you find the dullahan and the King to be by far the easiest customers of the bunch. Just leave them to it and try not to drop their food. And don't be Larry, who cracked one too many jokes about skeleton anatomy and is still in the hospital for strangling

It's not so much that they demand you serve them every time, some get irriated that you don't scare as easily anymore and try for staff with less backbone, but the other staff aren't exactly being team players about serving them so you end up doing it anyway. Being good at your job feels like a punishment sometimes, eh?

Just wait until they start pulling you in for henchman wrangling and home service-! Haha jk, unless....

[delinquentsharlene]

There's a sudden but gentle knock at their bedroom door, Sharlene's gaze darting up from their phone to see their sister in the doorway.

"Um... Hey," Ami greets, giving a small wave.

"Hi," They respond. "What's up?" As they push themselves up from their bed to sit up properly, Ami's golden eyes widen slightly in surprise, before she loosens the tension in her shoulders with a sigh—both of them knew the only reason she went to their room was if she needed something.

"Um... Can I come in?" She asks. Sharlene furrows their brow, immediately picking up on her anxiety.

"Sure...?" They scoot over slightly to give her some room to sit on the bed, but she only takes a few steps in before closing the door behind her. Ami is frowning, her eyes darting around as she tries to look at anything but them, and with the strange silence looming over the two, they started to get uncomfortable.

"So, listen, Shar..." She eventually begins, bringing a hand up to rub the back of her neck. "You, uh... You have tomorrow off work, right?"

"Yeah." They state simply. "Why? Somethin' wrong?"

"No, no, not... Not wrong, per say, but, um..." Ami presses her lips together, exhaling heavily as she lifts her head, though she still avoids looking at Sharlene directly. "It's just... I have some plans—or, no, we have some plans, and... God, you're not gonna like this. Please, just... Hear me out. Okay?"

Sharlene doesn't say anything. A lump is forming in their throat, anxiety bubbling in their stomach at Ami's words. They had a feeling, a gut feeling that they knew exactly where this was going. Their sister doesn't act like this normally, she's never this nervous.

But surely they were thinking too much, right? There was no way that Sharlene's worst case scenario was exactly what Ami wanted to talk about, right?

"Okay, um..." She eventually mutters. "So... I just got off th' phone with mama."

No way.

"She, um... Tomorrow, she's gonna fly over an' meet us here, then we were gonna go to lunch with her, Carson an' I."

No way.

"Mama said... She... Really wants to see you. I know you don't like her, Shar, but if you could put yer differences aside for an hour or two..." They can hear the meekness in Ami's voice, but it didn't properly register, not when they can hear their heart beat in their ears, not when their chest burned and their throat tightened and their raw anger was the only thing they could feel.

"Are you... fucking kiddin' me?!" It's loud and it's sudden, Ami flinching and quickly reaching up to cover her ears.

"Pl-Please, don't—"

"Don't what? Get fuckin' angry, Ami?! What the hell did you expect?! There's not a chance yer stupid enough to think I'd be fine with this, right?!" Their breathing is heavy, labored, and they clench their jaw and their hands soon find their way to their hair, nails digging into their scalp as they tried to just breathe.

"I... Shar..." Her voice quivered, barely above a whisper, and they were sure she was holding back tears.

"It ain't as easy as just 'putting our differences aside'! I fuckin' hate that woman, and I couldn't give less of a shit if she wants to see me! If she wanted a relationship with me, she should'a thought of that before she decided to beat me as a child!!"

"Pl-Please stop ye-yelling... I'm—I'm sorry...!" Ami's voice is small, and it isn't until now that Sharlene finally lifts their head to see their older sister sniffling and sobbing like a scared little child, because of them.

Because they'd screamed at her. Because they'd gotten angry with her.

Maybe they're more like mama than they thought.

"I can't fuckin' believe you asked me that," They soon mutter, venom drenching their voice. "After everythin' I told you about her, y'think I'd be willin' to just let that go so that she can be happy? What, do you not care about my feelings at all?" Their tone was accusatory, and Ami visibly tensed, frantically wiping the tears off her face.

"Don't say that!" She sobbed. "I didn' mean to downplay yer feelin's, I-I care so much! I just... I wa-want things to be okay with you two... I... I thought..." Ami trails off before erupting into another fit of tears, crying and sniveling as she covers her face with her hands.

Dammit. Sharlene hated making Ami cry.

Deep breath in, hold, and exhale. Their hands drop to their lap, and they tilt their head back to stare up at the ceiling for a moment. God, they really fucked this up, didn't they?

"Ami," They eventually speak up. "'m gonna be out all day t'morrow. So, I'm not gonna see her. Okay?" As they lower their head again, dull eyes rest on their sister, who only nods wordlessly in response. That was good enough for Sharlene.

"Sorry for yellin'." They mutter. "Get out of my room."

They didn't have to ask twice. Ami immediately slipped out the door and slammed it behind her, her crying echoing through the halls of their apartment until she reached her own bedroom.

Ah... When had Sharlene started crying?

[saturnine-saturneight]

I keep forgetting to send you asks, so. Looks you directly in the eye. Odds for Nat.

Absolutely fucking incredible. HI MIRK THANK YOU MIRK.

Weirdly specific character building questions

What’s the lie your character says most often?

Given that they're a grifter, their most frequent lie is very likely about who they are, aka their name, job, identity. The second most frequent one, when it does come up, is that they are a fully healthy human being and absolutely not a bizarre pseudo-zombie with half a foot in a flowery grave. This tends to be more of a lie by omission, though.

3. How often do they show their genuine emotions to others versus just the audience knowing?

Quite frequently. Their most masked emotion is that of an enraged kindergardner wanting to pluck every individual leg out of a spider for walking across their lunch. This does not get them far in life, so Nat tends to smile threateningly instead and tries to keep their cool.

5. Can they cry on command? If so, what do they think about to make it happen?

Oh, you bet they can, and you bet that they make use of it. Nat is an actor, and life is their stage. They don't even need to think about anything specific, they just make it happen. Most frequent uses are winning arguments and getting away with murder by making the other party look guilty.

7. What would you (mun) yell in the middle of a crowd to find them? What would their best friend and/or romantic partner yell?

Something like "Oh no, I've dropped my handbag full of cash!"

Ron wouldn't yell. He'd call them on the phone and greet them with a "what's up, asshole, stop disappearing on me."

9. Do they give tough love or gentle love most often? Which do they prefer to receive?

Tough love. Definitely tough love. Them and Ron tussle frequently, anything from arm wrestling over noogies to just shoving each other around a bit. They have their soft moments, but Nat is usually at the receiving end of those. They like both equally, so long as they're getting attention of some kind.

11. If someone was impersonating them, what would friends / family ask or do to tell the difference?

Ron would disparage a classic author and wait for the rant about his lack of intelligence and about how he just totally doesn't get it. That, or use a loan word incorrectly.

13. When do they fake a smile? How often?

Frequently, see above - usually to cover up anger that won't get them what they want in a social situation. They also love to feel charming, and will attempt to wrap someone around their finger if Nat deems them interesting enough to talk to, which involves both fake and real smiles.

15. What’s the most obvious difference between their behavior at home, at work, at school, with friends, and when they’re alone?

Nat barely smiles when they're alone. They feel quite vulnerable in life and fuss frequently. At work, they slip into the role of the charmer, and when they're alone with the only friend they have left, that being Ron, they're pretty dramatic and let their base anger shine through more often.

17. What do they notice first in the mirror versus what most people first notice looking at them?

The first thing Nat always sees are their green eyes, which are also one of their favorite things about their appearance, closely followed by the up-tilt of their nose. Other people notice the length of their hair first, then their freckles, both of those being features that can be seen from further away.

19. What would they do if stuck in a room with the person they’ve been avoiding?

Immediately attempt to gain control over the situation through charming, verbal arm twisting, cold reading, and intimidation.

21. What common etiquette do they disagree with? Do they still follow it?

Nat disregards most rules of etiquette in their daily life, but likes to think of themself as someone who implicitly understands it and could show perfect manners, if they just wanted to. It's a status thing to them, which means that, when they think a certain rule is silly, they still see value in it as a social marker.

23. What do they feel guilty for that the other person(s) doesn’t / don’t even remember?

Guilt is for other people. Except when it's not - but that's a spoiler for Twin Suns. It isn't like Ron doesn't remember, though. He just hasn't found out yet.

25. What subject / topic do they know a lot about that’s completely useless to the direct plot?

Nat knows five different languages, can directly cite a vast array of historians and poets, and has perfect orthography. Zombie flowers give a damn about none of this. However, it does come up that they can speak Future American Sign Language when they meet a deaf woman on a train. For about two chapters.

27. What’s the worst gift they ever received? How did they respond?

Can I say their zombie flowers? I'm gonna say their zombie flowers. Nat responded by escaping the lab.

29. How do they respond when someone doesn’t believe them?

Disbelief. Indignation. Rage. All internally - externally, they just try to spin their story harder. If it's about something they actually care about, and/or if they're telling the truth, Nat is fast to cry.

31. When do they feel the most guilt? How do they respond to it?

Nat routinely screws people over without batting an eye about it. That's just part of surviving (and thriving) for them. Even when they kill, and even when that eats at their mind, they do their best to push it away. It's only when Ron comes into the crossfire that their conscience comes into play. Generally, they try to keep their wrongdoings towards him a secret.

33. How do they greet someone they dislike / hate?

Overly, overly friendly, and immediately zeroing in on some fault or some breaking point that they can dig their fingers into. If the someone has more status than them or is more dangerous than Nat, on the other hand, they get the hell out of dodge.

35. What is the smallest, morally questionable choice they’ve made?

Not many things in Nat's life are small or have small consequences. Shoplifting, probably?

37. What’s a secret they haven’t told serious romantic partners and don’t plan to tell?

Hahahaha. Spoileeeerrrsss.

39. Would they rather be invited to an event to feel included or be excluded from an event if they were not genuinely wanted there?

Invited, always, any time. Being invited to things means they can listen in on conversations, means they can pick out marks. In a closer friend group they're not allowed to screw over, Nat still wants to be invited, so they can loudly announce that they aren't coming. They hate being scorned.

41. What phrases, pronunciations, or mannerisms did they pick up from someone / somewhere else?

They get a lot of their phrasing from books. Ron has a very distinctive way of speaking that he shares with Téo, a mix between heavy cussing and internet slang, but Nat is largely immune, even though they hang around him all day.

What they don't know is that they share a lot of facial expressions with him.

43. What do they commonly misinterpret because of their own upbringing / environment / biases? How do they respond when realizing the misunderstanding?

Other people's intentions. Nat views the world as incredibly hostile, and quickly takes the victim position over very innocuous things. It's hard for them to see past this and right the wrong - generally, they just dig the hole deeper. An apology and a talking-it-out is like pulling teeth.

45. What’s something unimportant / frivolous that they hate passionately?

Sports. They don't see the point in working out for anything but combat. It's a pity, because they could probably burn off a lot of energy that currently goes into death and destruction.

47. Who have they forgotten about that remembers them very well?

The occasional victim of a scam, I'd say. The axe forgets but the tree remembers.

49. Would they eat something they find gross to be polite?

Does this get them bonus points with somebody who they stand to gain something from? Then yes. For pure politeness, absolutely not. Life is too short not to live well, and this includes eating good food.

51. What’s a phrase they say a lot?

Oh, don't worry. (Dripping with malice, followed by threats.)

53. Who would / do they believe without question?

Ron. He has their back unquestioningly. Unless it comes to a question of perception or understanding, because Nat is convinced that he's a little stupid. Especially when it serves their ego.

55. What’s something they’re expected to enjoy based on their hobbies / profession that they actually dislike / hate?

Nat might be into literature, but finds discussing it and listening to other people's opinions about it boring more often than not. The meaning is in the text already, and everyone except them is wrong anways. Get on with it already.

57. What’s a simple daily activity / motion that they mess up often?

While they're not quite as good at it as Ron, they're still trained in pickpocketing, so their dexterity is good. They also work out regularly and use their body, so Nat knows where their limbs start and end. So there isn't much that they really mess up in the sense of motions. They're a poor cook, and overspice and oversalt everything, but luckily for Ron, they mostly eat in fastfood chains or out of microwaves.

Nat also needs glasses and doesn't wear any out of bullheadedness, but being near sighted, this doesn't really impede them. They should probably not drive as much as they do, but they have yet to get them and Ron into a serious accident. (Do not do this at home.)

[symphonic-scream]

So uh here's some Okujima slash Makoharu from my Chaos Arcana swap

They're were classmates back in middle school, not really friends but two quiet kids who'd spend time together. Little Makoto had the biggest baby gay crush on Haru, so she was hella awkward around her as well

In their first year both became very isolated due to Kamoshida's meddling. Haru wasn't getting close to people out of fear that he'd stay true to his word and use his info to destroy her dad's company, and everyone was avoiding Makoto to avoid similar rumours spreading about them

Makoto sees Haru as they pass in the halls over the years and. Just like with the other girls she knows Kamoshida is tricking, she wishes she could do something to put an end to it, to get rid of that hollow look in their eyes

And she does get her chance, when an odd, tall, thin boy comes to their school. People say he killed someone, that he robbed a bank, they say lots of things. But he wants to help, and is the first person to stand by her side

Now one thing about Makoto is she's smart. Very, very smart. However, all that goes down the drain when she gets all bullheaded towards what's right and makes the dumbest fucking decisions ever, throwing herself in the way of danger

Like when she hears a soft voice begging someone else to "stay away, no- no, please -" instinct takes over and she's sprinting down the halls, bursting into the PE faculty office and shoving Kamoshida into his own desk

For the first time, someone has come to Haru's aid, realized the hell she's been living in and come to smash a hole in the ceiling so she can crawl her way free. And sure, all three are going to be expelled over it, but- for the first time in years she doesn't feel like just a doll

Though. Neither Makoto or Yusuke want her to help them take him down. They're secretive about their methods, and is that a bird in Yusuke's bag?? Oh well. If they won't let her repay them then she'll follow them and force them to let her help

And so a Phantom Thief team is born. Haru- or Eros- is always super diligent about using healing spells on Makoto -Knight- just, walking up to her after a fight and laying a gentle hand on her arm or shoulder, giving her a soft little smile

And gay disaster Knight turns bright red, every time

They make a good team, even deciding to keep going after Kamoshida. There's more people they can save, more good they can bring into the world

(okay time to backtrack a little bit for a small intermission of Makoharu moments I have thought up that happen during the Kamoshida arc)

On rainy days, Makoto is often seen without her leather jacket, instead wearing a damp flannel shirt over her uniform shirt. At the same time, Haru can be found with said jacket draped over her shoulders or head, protecting her from the rain

Likewise, some days up on the roof, the two will be seen sharing a Bento. Some days Makoto would have neglected to bring lunch while avoiding her sister in the apartment, or Haru simply forgot while doing other tasks while her father was away

(anyways. Back on track. More under the break I worry about this one maybe getting too long)

Okay let's get Madarame up in this house! So this is when Futaba joins the group, and instead of being an artist, Madarame is like. A software developer or he claims to be one

Madarame Tech is unveiling a new ai help thing for their devices that they call "Wakaba". She is set to be unveiled at a local department store, and in the mean time they're showing off their new game console and PC line and shit. So like. Their mini E3 kinda

Futaba sees the gang on the subway and is caught taking photos of Haru- in reality she liked her aesthetic and was adding it to her folder of inspirations for like. Aesthetic lines for the tech shit I guess?? Idk. However she's a little shit and says she's interested in a. Different way.

This kick-starts that whole plot and starts making Makoto simmer. She doesn't want to see Haru get used again like before, so alarm bells are going off. Especially since she's accepted her feelings have resurfaced and has been trying (awkwardly) to make her move

Okay and then the "nude painting" scene. In exchange for not turning them in to the police right away for accusing Madarame, Futaba claims she wants to just. "touch some tits". Claims she wants to become a hero in her Discord server. I like to write Futaba as asexual so she's bluffing hard, thinking they won't say yes

She's mainly focused on Haru, who seems like she's going to agree in order to save the mission. And that's when Protective, Stupid Makoto steps in

Long story short Makoto and Futaba are playing "boob chicken" until Goro (bird boy) picks the lock and Madarame comes home and reveals yeah he's been using Futaba to finish her mom's programs that he killed her for haha whoops

Anyways they fall into the metaverse and they're about to see Futaba awaken as Python with her persona but first, gay

When Knight lands on the ground, Eros runs over to her. Shes been worrying the whole time, talking Yusuke's ear off about how she hopes Makoto is safe and doesn't have to actually do anything and shit- anyways she checks her over to make sure she's fine, calls her stupid for volunteering, Knight tries to defend her stupidity but oop-

Eros kisses her

...and kisses her again

Goro: are they seriously like, practically making out right now?

Yusuke: this is beautiful

Futaba: what the hell is happening

And bam they're gay from there. Makoto climbs through Haru's window some nights after sneaking out of her and Sae's apartment, ditches classes early to meet Haru at her class to go get lunch

Makoto is a little awkward always, but she's affectionate and making heart eyes always. Maybe a little handsy but she just. Shes feeling loved and loving so it can be excused. Haru also is not complaining so the only complaints are from Goro. And Futaba. And Hifumi. And Kasumi eventually.

When everyone goes to Hawaii, Makoto and Haru both volunteer to go on the trip as third years and are excited about sharing a room in Hawaii and spending time together

...yeah that doesn't happen. There's a room error and some teachers have to join student rooms and. Since Sae and Makoto are sisters. Sae joins her and Haru in their room.

So instead of a romantic getaway, Makoto has to share a hotel bed with her sister who steals the sheets and snores and keeps her up all night

But she and Haru do cuddle on the beach a bit. Throw a towel over an umbrella for a spell, allowing Makoto to catch up on her rest while holding her gf

And then of course the Sacrifice fake death bit. Emotions, angst, more kissing, classic stuff

Oh and for second semester Makoto has a whole crisis about realizing she wouldn't be able to get into college with Haru like she wanted to if she didn't clean up her act a little and starts wearing proper uniform. Her grades were still good so she has a chance

The day she gets her acceptance letter, the same day Haru gets hers, they open them together and they're so fucking excited cause they both got in, holy shit. They sign up to room together and man they're excited to share a dorm

Anyways yeah. Uhm. Them. Please ask me more about this I wanna talk more about this