#my own heart and mind have just been devastated by a natural disaster called this fucking poem

[lucaswarmhotchocolate]

uhm okay this is devastating and I read it in Voldemort's and Harry's voices at different lines and overall what the fuck is this poem. it sounds like an excerpt from a harrymort fic. Old English Anglo-Saxon poetry goes hard, mayhaps??? The author of this is actually a harrymort shipper who got reincarnated into the body of an old english Anglo-Saxon poet. Harrymort is canon and was predicted by a writer many many moons ago.

"I lived inside you, I could not get out of you, I was enclosed in flesh, and your sinful pleasures oppressed me, so that very often it seemed to me that it was going to be thirty thousand years till the day you died. I waited all the time, with difficulty, for our separation. Certainly the end of it is not so good now! You were puffed up with your feasting and full of wine, you raved in your power; and I was thirsty for God's body, the soul's drink. So you never considered, here in this life, never since I had to live in you in the world, that you had been conceived violently by flesh and by sinful pleasures, but that you were upheld by me - and I was the spirit sent into you by God. You never saved me from these cruel torments of hell, because of the pleasure of your desires. You will have to suffer shame at my humiliation on that great day when the only-begotten summons all the human race. You are no more popular as a companion to any living man, to your mother or your father or any of your relatives, than the black raven is, not since I went away out of you, alone, by the hand of him by whom I had been sent. Your red ornaments cannot get you out of here now, nor gold nor silver nor any of your goods, not your wife's ring nor your rich house nor any of the goods that you once possessed. But here your stripped bones will have to wait, their sinews torn off; and your soul will often have to seek you out - against my own will - and say foul things to you, just as you did them to me."

Soul and Body I

[mariatorska]

Unstoppable Palisades Fire: Los Angeles Fire Department Battles Historic Blaze | 17,200 Acres Burned

The Palisades Fire isn’t just a disaster; it’s a fiery reckoning, a relentless force reminding us of nature’s power and humanity’s fragility.

The winds howled like a dirge sung by the abyss itself, carrying embers that leapt through the air with a malevolence beyond nature. This was no accident; it was too perfect, too cruel. Whispers among the displaced spoke of a curse upon the land, of rituals performed in secret, and of a reckoning summoned by forces long dormant. The very earth seemed to reject its burden, heaving up flames that consumed not only homes but the dreams and histories of countless lives.

Los Angeles became a battleground for an elemental war. The air crackled with an energy that felt ancient, a dark power coiling and uncoiling like a serpent of smoke. As flames devoured their prey, some swore they saw patterns in the destruction, shapes etched into the ground as if by unseen hands — sigils of fire left behind by the wrath of gods or the work of shadowed figures cloaked in secrecy.

Mayor Karen Bass called it a “historic firestorm,” but for those caught in its path, it felt like the unraveling of the world itself. The Pacific Coast Highway, now a path of the damned, was littered with abandoned cars, their owners having fled on foot as the fire’s voracious appetite (because funding for the Fire Department was cut by 40%) spread faster than mortal comprehension. Thick plumes of black smoke blotted out the sun, leaving the city bathed in a surreal twilight — a realm where time itself seemed suspended.

In this apocalyptic landscape, even the elements seemed bewitched. Winds reaching 100 mph tore through the hills, fanning the flames with a demonic fervor. Their unrelenting force carried glowing embers like messengers of destruction, spreading the conflagration with precision that seemed almost guided. Firefighters battled not just the blaze but the sheer impossibility of its fury. “It’s as if the fire has a mind of its own,” one whispered, his voice trembling, his face streaked with soot and disbelief.

Among the ash-choked streets, survivors murmured of ancient powers awakened. Stories of blood rituals and forbidden incantations passed from lip to trembling lip. Could this inferno be a punishment wrought by forgotten deities? A curse brought down by humanity’s desecration of sacred knowledge

With the onset of darkness, apocalyptic smoke appeared, and then fire began to descend from the sky, the city’s spiritual fabric seemed to tear. In the hillsides, where shadows played tricks on the weary and desperate, some claimed to see figures cloaked in fire, performing unholy rites amidst the devastation. Eyes gleamed in the smoke, and whispers carried on the wind spoke of ancient names, names that should never be uttered.

The shelters became places of uneasy refuge, filled with stories of black magic and apocalyptic omens. “This is no ordinary fire,” an elderly evacuee murmured, clutching a charm against his chest. “This is a cleansing, a ritual of the old gods.”

As Los Angeles burns, the question lingers: is this the wrath of a wounded planet, striking back against humanity’s hubris, or the culmination of forbidden practices, rituals conducted in the shadows to summon forces that should never have been disturbed? The flames, relentless and alive, carry no answer—only destruction, only the crackling laughter of an ancient, unknowable power unleashed.

And as the city smolders under the weight of its apocalypse, somewhere beyond the smoke, the watchers of the ritual prepare for the next chapter.

May strength and resilience accompany each of you in this destructive time. While the flames of destruction rage, remember not to lose heart, no matter what—create beauty and build your own inner World. My thoughts are with those, with the true magicians, who seek to change this World. This is the Matrix—catastrophe is what they want to impose! So don’t let them take over your thoughts and soul. — yours Maria Torska

[shammah8]

SPIRITUAL ABUSE There are various types of abuse, including physical, verbal, mental, financial, and others. Each of these types of abuse can cause trauma and soul wounds. However, for the purpose of this chapter, I am focusing on spiritual and emotional abuse. Why?

Because the two most important parts of a person’s being are their spirit and their soul.

I have prayed for and counseled thousands of people over the years who have been victims of someone who has abused their spiritual authority. In my book Unmasking the Accuser, I deal with a condition that I call PTSD (pastoral traumatic stress disorder). Just as many people have experienced post-traumatic stress disorder through exposure to severe trauma (including war, the tragic death of a loved one, or a natural disaster), there are countless people in the body of Christ who have experienced the devastation of spiritual and emotional abuse, often at the hands of an individual in spiritual leadership. Satan is the accuser of the brethren, but many leaders under demonic influence function as “abusers of the brethren.”

The reason why emotional and spiritual abuse are so devastating is that people in spiritual authority represent God, and when these leaders abuse their authority, it is often very difficult for their victims to distinguish between the pain of the abuse and their personal relationship with the Lord. If you have suffered from spiritual abuse, I want you to truly understand this: God did not abuse you, although those representing Him did.

People who are the victims of spiritual abuse can experience soul wounds that are very difficult to overcome. Thankfully, the power of God is greater than the pain of abuse. Our heavenly Father is more than able to heal and restore us when we call upon Him with a heart of sincerity and humility. We may also need to seek help from a trusted Christian counselor.

I remember speaking to someone who had been the victim of extreme spiritual abuse. They had received false prophetic words from their pastor that convinced them to marry a person who happened to be a witch. They were constantly criticized, judged, and controlled by this pastor. They were even told that if they left the fellowship, they would become sick and die. Friends, this type of controlling behavior is demonic! If you find yourself under this kind of abusive leadership, I recommend that you leave immediately and seek counsel from a licensed counselor or other minister who is qualified to give insight in this area.

Another form of spiritual and emotional abuse is when those in church leadership use their influence and power to draw people to themselves rather than to God. This is a form of witchcraft. When people become more committed to their pastor than to Jesus Himself, this is a serious problem. Please do not get me wrong:believe in honoring those in authority over us. However, when honor becomes worship, there is another spirit at work besides the Holy Spirit. We should all love our spiritual leaders and hold them in high esteem. We should even do our best to bless them as much as possible. But again, these things should be done as unto the Lord, according to Scripture; and doing so should draw us closer to God, not create dissonance and chaos in our spiritual lives.

Spiritual abuse can also be wielded in the form of mind games.

Many Christians are literally losing their minds while sitting under certain leaders in the church who “gaslight” them (manipulate them psychologically) but then deny their words and behavior in a way that makes the people under them question their own sanity.

Here are some signs that you are under spiritual abuse:

Decreased ability to hear God’s voice Unproductive spiritual and emotional life Fear of man Constant spiritual and physical infirmity Isolation from family members and friends No longer able to make rational decisions Constant strife and confusion in one’s spiritual life Regression in one’s spiritual life Calamity and devastation in one’s life Extreme financial lack and poverty☕️Kynan Bridges

[tokoyamisstuff]

metanoia, ch. 1

Sinister! Stephen Strange x Reader

!MoM Spoilers Ahead!

[meh-ta-noy-ah] - Greek (n.) the journey of changing one's mind; heart; self; way of life; spiritual conversion...

...or in other words: A story in which Sinister! Strange gets the Happy Ending he deserves.

Warnings: Slight Choking, Descriptions of Blood and Injury, Mentions of Mental Illness A/N: This Fic is heavily inspired by one of my favourite Strange Authors out there, @strangeprincex-writes! They also wrote a similar Story about Strange Supreme from the What If... Series, which you can read ->here<-

"Goddammit" you silently cursed as you first took in your new surroundings, which seemed to be absent of any life.

This wasn't the first time you had entered a world that had quite literally been erased from existence, and it never failed to both concern and astonish you.

Over the years of your life as an interdimensional traveler, you had witnessed quite a fair share of disasters: Dying planets, whole worlds at war, chaos spreading across the galaxy to an extend that would leave countless in a state of irreparable devastation.

Inversions however were phenomenoms that surpassed human understanding.

They brought about the destruction of every single lifeform in the respective reality, all ceasing to exist with no escape just like that. Natural laws would be nullified, the ceasing remains of this doomed place being the last and only evidence of a once flourishing world.

While many questions about the loosely strung realities remained unanswered, one thing you knew for sure about the so-called Inversions:

They were absolute.

Without even the concept of time preserving, an inversion-strickened world was damned to stay in this state of pure nothingness for all eternity - as a warning testimony of this fragile concept some called the Multiverse.

"So no food here, huh..." you thought, rubbing your belly to soothe an achingly empty stomach.

While you were able to create gateways and travel between the different realities at will, conjuring those pathways put a huge toll on your body.

You had transported yourself here with the last ounce of strenght, now left needing to recharge your power until you could jump on to a more inviting part of the Multiverse.

For now however, you'd need to endure this oppressing environment and pass some time by yourself.

At least nothing was out of the ordinary until now, and even though this world was very much dead and left in disorder it was not hostile - unlike others you had encountered.

Because as much as the possibilities of the Multiverse were temptating, crossing those paths brought forth great dangers for a visitor.

Some civilizations might be completely underwater, others were inhabited by dangerous creatures or even had a poisonous atmosphere. Laws and logic as you knew it meant nothing in some places, having experienced things that you couldn't even describe in words.

So you could proudly call yourself a surviving expert at this point, the little sorcery you've learned always being your one and only steady companion on your ongoing travels.

Ultimately, ending up in an abandoned world wasn't the worst possible option, considering you wouldn't have been able to escape immediately shall the environment not be compatible with your biology.

Some peace and quiet would do you good, you concluded.

Though you knew the city of New York from several other earths you had visited, it currently was like seeing it through a black and white filte as you aimlessly dragged yourself along the empty streets.

Finally you left the ruins of the city behind you, reaching what was once the harbor. Even though you could live without nourishment for several days, water was a essential shall you need to stay here for a while.

You crouched down where the land met water, using what little magic was left in your body to open up your own personal pocket dimension. A basic spell that came in handy more often than not, since you had filled it with all kinds of necessities over the time.

Most of your knowledge in the mystic arts revolved around survival instead of battle, though you knew a trick or two to your own self-defense. Yet sadly, casting healing magic had never been your forté, but a first-aid kit was also part ofyour inventory.

Mentally rummaging within your magical luggage, you pulled out a bottle to fill with the salty liquid. One snap of your finger and great concentration changed it's properties so it would now be harmless to drink, and you poured down the bottle in one go.

Only when the fresh water ran down your throat your body and your body began to relax, you were able to perceive the one and only light source in contrast of the otherwise sombre ambience.

There was a sole building in the middle of the shore, surrounded by the dust of an ever dissolving matter, making it appear as if covered in a thick mist.

You could've sworn to have briefly seen a silhouette behind the huge round window, and sense just the slightest magical aura surrounding the ancient structure - though whether the quality of it's source was of good or vile nature was hard to distinguish.

Nonetheless, with no better options you went forth to still your curiosity.

Never before you had crossed paths with a survivors of an Incursion, but your brief interactions with the Watcher made you learn that only the person responsible for a universe's doom could remain.

Most of the guilty chose to end their lives immediately after the incident however, unable to endure the consequences of their own actions.

So maybe it was another traveler? Yet you had never before met anyone like you, and the possibilities of two so incredibly seldom creatures to appear at the same spot were close to impossible.

Anyways, you had always strived for knowledge and experience, so whoever - or whatever - was waiting up there would be more than enough to quench your addiction for thrills for a while.

The entrance was sealed by a thick wooden door, with several indecipherable runes carved into it. An eldritch magic, you knew that much, most likely to keep out unwanted intruders.

However as soon as you hesistantly reached out for the handle, ignorant of the possible risk, the heavy gateway swung open by itself with an ear-piercing creak.

There was nothing at ground level except for a brittle staircase and the ocean stretching behind it through a collapsed wall. From what little information you could gather around here, you recognized this location as connected to the mystic arts, with relics and tombs scattered everywhere.

A huge crescent moon at the horizon was menacingly following your every step, and you wondered if you had just mistaken it's light for something else.

But then the door behind you slammed shut and undeniable noise from upstairs drang to your ear, the unexpected commotion frightening you to the bones.

There was still the ocean as possible escape route, but unable to saw it's depht you were dreading what would happen if you were to swim in an unknown body of water. Without natural laws applying here it could change it's properties randomly, making you fall or freezing you to death.

So there was no going back now, and with no better options than finding out who your host might be, you began your ascend of those sheer countless stairs.

The upper floor was covered by dust and absent of any light, making you wonder if someone might actually live in here. But then again, this universe doesn't follow any known logic.

Rule no. 1 about interdimensional travels: You know nothing.

With time not being a valid concept anymore, you did not know how to properly greet whoever was waiting for you, so you stuck with a plain. "Hello? Is anyone there?"

"Stop." The unexpectedly human voice made you jump, and though it sounded just as frightened as you, you froze in your tracks right on spot. "Not a single step further."

The source of this voice was that of a man, who was slowly descending from yet another floor - and he was just as you imagined a survivor of an incursion to be: Pale, ridiculously so. Disheveled, fitting right into this greyish-dark world he had most likely created himself...

...and his expression incredibly forlorn.

Certainly, this was the face of a man broken by fate itself.

Even though you did not know this person, your heart was breaking for him already. Just how many lonely eons had he spent trapped in this pointless eternity, mourning what could never be retrieved?

The thought alone drove you crazy, and bitter tears stung in your eyes as he continued his interrogation.

He was clutching the handrail of the stairs, eyeing you warily as his baritone voice asked "Who are you? What are you?"

"I-I..." You felt ridiculous, really. Weeping for a stranger whose intentions you couldn't be sure of yet. "My name is Y/N. Forgive my intrusion, but I have no ill intends. But i am lost in..."

"...the Multiverse?" His voice was barely above a whisper now, wavering and gravely concerned. Well, for him there were obviously soulcrushing memories connected to it. "What brings you to my lair, then?"

You shrugged. "Coincidence, I suppose. Just a humble traveler on my way through."

"To where?" The man came closer now, and your stance stiffened in defense. Better safe than sorry. "I don't know. Just always keeping on to go forwards, I guess."

Behind him was a balconry leading to vast nothingness, like a portal or black hole sucking in everything it touched. If it wasn't for the tragic story behind it, this would actually be a sight to behold.

But then abruptly, his face dropped into something more sinister. He seemed irritated, angry even at dropping his guard like this.

Your appearance had almost raised a naive hope that was still buried deep inside, an ember awaiting patiently to be re-ignited.

In the end however, this was too good to be true.

A vein was pulsating on the top of his head, witness to his intense brooding. He would burying his face into his hands and frantically rubbed his eyes as if to remove a stain, yet when he looked at the spot you initially stood again, you still hadn't moved an inch.

You were just one of his occasional hallucinations, a cruel hoax his own strickened mind used to fill the all-embracing emptiness.

Well, it be like that if you have lost your sanity during an eternal solitude. It was by far not the first time that he had been haunted by ghosts of the past, though over time his episodes became more abstract.

"Get lost" he spat as he approached you with firm steps, thinking that what was left of his soul was simply playing tricks on him again.

"Wha-why?!" You tried to reason with the man that ignored you out of a sudden, walking right past and certain you would soon disappear. "Wait!"

Your initial compassion would immediately dissolve into thin air as you tugged on his sleeve to make him stay, thus startling the overwhelmed man.

A third eye had opened on his forehead, all three of them wide in shock as he found his hand on your throat, black-ditched fingertips boring predatorily into your windpipe.

The immense malefic energy flowing through his body was now visible to you in form of a purple aura, it's origin stemming from the book that was buckled onto his belt.

Because he was physically much stronger as you, there was no other way but to use the little spare magic that you had left inside of you. One punch to his chest and the star-shaped force sent a tremor through out his body. He involuntarily let go off of you as the shockwave separated the two of you, the jolt sent him flying a safe distance away.

"You're not human" A statement, not a question. You panted visibly strained, already regretting using this much force just because you were afraid and didn't concentrate.

"Oh, what a feisty little thing you are. But I guarantee you, I very much am human." A dark chuckle filled the room, echoing against the shadowy walls. Seems as if you had caught his interest. "You however...not entirely."

The man clicked his toung as he pulled himself up from the floor, a few scattered books and a broken table you had thrown him on. Still, he looked at you mystified rather than resentful.

Your lip was pursed into a thin line as he locked eyes with you again, grinning from ear to ear. "Touching someone who hasn't seen a single soul in forever was a bold move, are you aware of that?"

This person right there is nothing more than a homicidal maniac, you thought. And no matter what had happened for him to become this way, he was truly beyond help.

You on the other hand were completely and utterly helpless against this powerful foe, trapped in an unknown universe with no magic and no one coming to your aid.

With entering this building and crossing paths with him, you had most likely conjured your own downfall...

...ultimatively however, instead of attacking you once again the man submissively bend down his head.

"My apologies. Your sudden advance was uncalled for, but my brute reaction was inexcusable."

Your bottom lip was trembling as your jaw dropped, and yet the man seemed sincere in his demeanor. His gaze wandered down to the arm you just punched him with. "...you're bleeding."

"Oh, this?" The shirt you were wearing was practically drenched in blood by now, and you silently cursed yourself for accidentally having reopened it. "That's an old wound."

"It's not an old wound if it never had the time to heal" he spoke as if he knew exactly what he was talking about. Metaphorically spoken, at least.

The sorcerer would only hesistantly dare to approach you, like one would do to gain a hurt animal's trust. It would be for the better if he thought you to be capable of more destruction shall he misbehave, so you balled your fists, small sparks emmitting from them. "What do you know, are you a doctor?"

"I was." Out of everything, that statement caught you by surprise. "Please sit down, I promise upon the little honor I have left that I won't hurt you."

Albeit all of the red flags, you decided that this person right here was still your best option.

If he wanted you dead, then you couldn't do anything against it in your current state. He could do so with a flick of his fingers and at any time he wished.

"How am I supposed to trust you if I don't even know your name?"

"Doctor Stephen Vincent Strange." What an odd name, you thought as he pulled out a chair for you with his telekinesis. But then you looked at him puzzled as the dots in your head connected. "Wait, like the Doctor Strange? Like the Sorcerer?"

"I've left that behind me a long time ago" he answered in an esaggerated sigh, trying to avoid further questioning. Yet you pried on to distract yourself from the pain. "I imagined you differently, to be honest."

"Why that, did you meet a variant of me?" To be perfectly honest, he could very well understand - for he was only a shadow of his former self.

What's left of the former hero was if only just the worst aspects, due to his wrongdoings, failures and the corruption of the darkhold that caught him in a downward spiral.

If anything, his madness was protecting what was left of himself from the crippling loneliness and guilt.

"Nope." You cut yourself off with a hiss, the antiseptic feeling like it would burn a hole into your back. Strange looked almost empathetic to your physical pain, yet coated himself in silence.

Why can't he just fix it with magic? The man seemed almost allmighty in your opinion.

"Just heared a lot about you. Oh, and one of your friends tried to arrest me once. Pong?"

"Wong" he corrected you harshly at the vivid remembrance of his old friend, yet busied himself with working on the huge tear that went from your shoulder down your clavicula. "Who did this to you?"

"I honestly can't tell. I have never before met a creature like this. It was two universes before I ended up here."

"I've studied you travelers long ago, when I still had hope to escape this place." The next sentence he spoke barely audible, facing the ground as if ashamed. "Once, I even absorbed the powers of one of your kind."

As cruel as his words were, as much did you know that he was no threat to you - especially since he already possessed your powers, as it seemed...

...and still, he would never be able to leave to another universe, let alone stay there without causing an inversion. What a farce.

"Travelers are unique across the Multiverse. None of you is alike, neihter do you have any variants." You figured that much already, yet it was nice to have it confirmed for once. "It must be wonderful to just exit one world and enter another. Being able to do whatever you please and just find a similar world without having to face the consequences of your own actions. You could leave behind all of your mistakes and be re-united with your loved ones..."

You quietly heared the absentminded man speak his mind until he was done with his handywork. Letting a hand run over the fresh bandage, you thanked him before sheepishly shying away from the necessary proximity.

There's no such thing as keeping something forever, let alone a happily ever after. That much you wholeheartedly believed, as painful as it may sound.

But you can't be disappointed if you don't expect anything, right?

"It's nothing like that" you snorted almost amused, "Quite the opposite, even."

"How that?"

"When I was young and my powers manifested, my journey involuntary begun. I sent my parents away on accident, where to I don't know. But if they haven't been killed instantly by whatever universe I've sent them to..."

"...then they died through the inevitable inversion that follows their presence." When Strange ended the sentence for you, he gained a frown in return. "Yeah, thanks for clearing that up."

As if you didn't already know. And even if by some miracle they did survive until now, the Multiverse is too excruciatingly huge to ever raise your hopes of reuniting with them.

Still, that was probably what made you keep going.

"Can you visit your origin universe somehow?"

Even though you did not know why, but you answered all of his questions truthfully. Shouldn't he already know, for he had robbed one of your species of their powers and used it for himself?

Maybe asking about your story was just his way of being polite, though obtrusive. Surely this man was just glad to have any real conversation with someone, no matter the topic.

"Well, I don't know about your personal experience, but I can travel back to every universe I have stepped foot into." It was a hard time learning this memorization, but for your survival it was crucial to be able to return to a peaceful environment in case of emergency.

"Using my powers at random uses up less power, though. Creating exactly the portal to a universe of my wish will pretty much eat up all magic inside of me for a long while."

"Thus your arrival here."

"Exactly."

For a while, both of you would exchange awkward looks, waiting until the atmosphere brightened a little so you dared asking him in return.

"So, I've told you about me. What about you? What happened that you ended up like..." you gestured around in the room, pointing at everything at once. "...like this?"

Strange's third eye was now practically piercing you, but you were used to way worse when it came to the supernatural. And just as you expected, his expression softened soon before tearing his gaze away from you.

"Nothing worth speaking about" he nearly whined, and though he was not currently looking at you, anyone could feel the pressure in the air, how the memory was tearing him apart on the inside. "I pushed my loved one away in this universe and selfishly tried to correct this in another universe. Everything else is history. I made a countless lived pay the price for my arrogance."

It was as bright as daylight that he was leaving something out, but you wouldn't push him with the details. You barely knew each other, and he was suffering enough already with telling you this part of the story.

"With no way out, I have decided to spend the rest of eternity to pay for my sins. This accursed world is my prison, and a harsh reminder for every version of me to never fall astray from that path ever again."

If only you knew that while what he spoke was the truth, he withheld the most important information to let you see the whole picture - the one in which he is not just a misguided hero that had fallen astray from his path, but had turned into a literal monster in the process.

This was merely an act, a facade that he'd make sure you would never peek behind. Otherwise you may try to stop him from doing the only thing that was able to shut the voices in his head...

...his noble quest of granting at least the other Strange's a merciful death that would save them from themselves.

"That sounds like a tragic love story to me" you naively declared, drawing his attention away from those vicious thoughts.

The eldritch mage would've expected repulsion, for you to despise him after everything you've heared. If not at least fear, especially after his inconsiderate attack....

...yet here you were, looking at him with an incredible sympathy shimmering behind your teary eyes that made his hypocricial self want to be swallowed by hell itself.

"Spare me your pity" he uttered respectful, his adam apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. "I am grateful, but undeserving."

However, now the sorcerer saw your unexpected encounter in a whole new light.

Stephen Strange had made a mistake - many mistakes, but at least saving you could give meaning to his otherwise meaningless life.

"Well Y/N, if you are in such desperate need of shelter, I wouldn't mind company for a while."

[holykillercake]

Emergency Light

ᴋᴏʙʏ x ᴍᴀʀɪɴᴇ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

word count: 2.6k

summary: 

Female reader developed a crush on Koby since he stood up against Akainu in Marineford. Someday at a party at the marine´s, you get drunk, too drunk. Koby takes you to your room before a disaster happens. You two get stuck in the elevator while everyone is busy partying.

highlight:  You wondered if they were training kamikaze marines now.

warning: 1. ¨Do not press random buttons.¨ - LAW, Trafalgar; 2. Trafalgar Law is not part of this story, but his wise words are worth of quotation. 

notes: *knock knock* Hi, guys! After a terrible writing block, I finally finished @pure-kirarin​´s lovely lovely request, which I used as summary since it was really good! I really hope you like it! <3 A little disclaimer! At some point, the ¨too drunk¨ part vanished from my brain, so our reader is just... drunk, hahaha. 

𝕃𝕖𝕒𝕧𝕖 𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕞𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕤, 𝕙𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕥𝕤, 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕝𝕠𝕧𝕖!

¨Y/N-san!¨ 

You were wiping a sweat drop from your forehead when the pink-haired boy appeared beside you, offering an isotonic drink and a warm smile. 

You did your best to hide the tiny heart attack you had.

¨Koby-san!¨ you shouted, smiling awkwardly. ¨Oh... is it for me?¨

¨Of course! You have been working really hard these days.¨

¨Thanks.¨ you took the drink from his hands. The heat and condensation caused a layer of cold sweat to wrap the bottle. ¨I just don´t know why they are making us help prepare this party. They have a team for this, Koby-san! Besides, we´re Captains now.¨ you pouted the last bit. 

¨Yeah...¨ he scratched the back of his neck. ¨well, at least we get to spend some time together!¨

¨I know, I just-¨ you stopped talking as his words processed in your brain. 

You felt your blood vessels dilating on your cheeks, leaving a hot sensation on your face. 

Perhaps he was just being polite, or maybe you were making a big deal out of this, but you couldn´t help. You have been fond of him for a while now, and you couldn't stop that involuntary reaction of your body when he said such lovely things. 

Koby realized the words that came out of his mouth, and the scene that followed made even your spirit giggle. His eyes opened wide, and you could almost feel his throat running dry with all his stuttering.

 If that was a blushing competition, you would be down to the second place. 

¨W-We´ve been on separate missions for ten months, right? I m-mean... and it´s not dangerous or anything, and-¨ 

¨Yeah, you´re right, Koby-san.¨ a smitten smile blossomed on your lips, and you tried to hide it by sipping the refreshing drink. 

As stated by the boy, you had spent almost a year in different locations of the Grand Line, leading missions of your own. That was the kind of thing you had to do as promoted Captains.

You had no idea where Koby ended up going. These subjects could not be discussed over snail transponders, just for precaution. In fact, you barely spoke to him during this time. There were only a few nights when you would exchange coded messages. 

Since you became Captains, your tasks have kept you apart for much longer than before. You couldn't help but miss him and wonder how he must be doing during those times. 

You have already met thousands of Marines. Some even stronger and more agile than him, but no one had his willpower. You would put your hands on the fire for that. 

Whenever you felt unmotivated or helpless, the memory of the boy standing up against Sakazuki, putting his life on the line to honor his fallen comrades made your blood burn hotter. 

He did what no one else had the guts to do. 

Too blinded by the bloodshed, in the end, the number of casualties made it clear that accomplishing the task was no reason to celebrate.

When the sole of your shoes stained with blood and the blade of your sword sliced through anyone who didn´t wear the justice symbol on their back, you questioned if the Marines had finally lost their purpose. 

You should be civilized and do justice, but not at the expense of soldiers who had families to return to. If the target had already been eliminated, why were you still fighting? 

A chill ran down your spine when, for the first time, you looked up and faced the massacre. It was as if before, you could look at everything and, at the same time, see nothing. 

If Koby hadn´t stood up at that moment, you wouldn´t be here today. Maybe for leaving, maybe for dying. But his act of braveness and courage returned a bit of your hope. 

You wanted to see how far he could go, and hopefully, you would be by his side. 

Before, you used to watch him, along with his colleague Helmeppo, getting beat up and beat up by Garp and always put himself back on his feet. 

You wondered if they were training kamikaze marines now. 

From your room, you had a perfect view of the training circuit, so you could see the cycle repeating itself over and over again. Boys, seduced by the idea of absolute justice, strength, and power to fight bad guys, came to Marineford willing to prove their worth. They would fall a few times before the sparkle in their eyes started to fade. 

Eventually, they would fade too. 

Those boys, however, fell and fell, being punched to a pulp, then patched back together only to suffer on Garp´s hands again. Watching them became your late-night entertainment, and seeing their improvements and growth turned out to warm your heart. 

At some point, you were assigned to be their opponent, and from that moment on, your days became brighter. They would share the craziest stories and tell the funniest jokes. Or not so much tell jokes. They were naturally clumsy and fun. 

Although, if you could choose, you would prefer to spend more time with Koby. Nothing against Helmeppo, he was just too much sometimes. But apparently, they came in a two-for-one pack. 

                                                             ***

It has been only a few hours since the party started and you reached the jackpot. You had taken all your frustrations on alcohol and rice cakes, and it showed. 

Every ten seconds, the memory of what you wanted to do disappeared, and that was somehow hilarious, making you explode in laughter and cause commotions. So for every ten seconds during the first hours, one of the last remaining sober in the enclosure had tiny cardiac arrests. 

Everyone was drunk enough to have a good time without causing any trouble. But the detail worth mentioning was that your party had started a little earlier, under the statement that you needed a little incentive to help you through the night. 

It meant that your energetically loud phase was close to reaching its end, giving place for your sleepy and distracted persona. Your eyes felt heavier by the second, light dizziness fogging your brain, but it felt relaxing. 

¨You know Koby is a type of meat?¨ you said, resting your chin on the table and giggling to yourself.

¨Y/N-san, I-I don´t think that´s the name of it.¨ his face turned red as he shifted on the cushion, adjusting his posture. 

¨Ugh, you´re so nervous Koby, you should relax.¨ you sang the last syllable. ¨Look at Meppo, he´s relaxing.¨

Your lips bent in a goofy smile as you watched your comrades building an okaki tower on Helmeppo´s head. The blonde had passed out on the table a few minutes earlier, too exhausted and drunk. He looked so peaceful in his sleep that a yawn escaped your mouth, catching Koby´s attention. 

¨Y/N-san, you should go to bed already. Y-You look tired.¨ his voice trembled when he took sight of your sparkling but sleepy eyes, rosy face, and messy hair. 

¨Hmm, no... I´m still good.¨

Another yawn. 

¨Come, I can walk you to your room before you relax like Helmeppo.¨ 

Your brain was working in slow motion, so by the time you thought of answering him, your grip was already tight in his. A little tighter than necessary, but you were afraid your wobbly legs would cease, and honestly, he didn't object at all.

The air outside the salon made your nostrils hurt within every breath, not because it was freezing cold but because the alcohol made your body run hotter than usual. Your ears felt like they were clogged, but that was merely the tingling silence on the empty hall. 

When he guided you inside of the elevator and pressed the corresponding button to your floor, your gasp, which echoed through the narrow walls, made Koby jump back, scanning for any sign of danger. 

¨Oh my God, look at this, Koby!¨ 

He watched you walk closer to the panel, completely mesmerized. ¨Uh... what, Y/N-san?¨ 

¨Wow! They never did this before!¨ you shouted, falling on your knees and leaning in like a child on an ice cream shop showcase. 

The boy kept staring at you, who pressed the buttons in a row with shimmering eyes. What was in that saké?

¨They never did...?¨

¨Look!¨ you clicked some more. ¨When I press the buttons... they light up!¨

A moment of silence fell upon the two of you, and although Koby always felt comfortable in your presence, he wasn´t sure what to do now.  

You, on the other hand, didn´t seem to mind, too focused on your groundbreaking discovery. 

¨Y/N-san, they have always...¨

¨This is so cool!¨

¨Y/N-san... I don´t think you should...¨

¨What does this one do-¨

A loud shriek escaped your mouth when the shaking of the elevator took you off balance, making your butt meet the floor in a thump. The lights flashed a few times before everything in your sight was pitch black. 

You heard Koby call your name, asking if you were hurt, but all you could do was hold still, fearing for your life. The alcohol made the bouncing feel like a devastating earthquake. 

¨Y/N-san!¨ you felt light pats on your shoes. ¨Are you ok? I can´t see anything!¨ 

Koby crawled on the floor, using your foot as a way to locate you. 

¨Koby, stop moving.¨ you whispered, but he seemed not to hear, lost in his rumbles. ¨Koby, stop moving!. We´re going to fall.¨

¨Wh-no! Y/N-san, are you hurt?¨

¨No, I don´t think so.¨ you answered, head swirling and heart racing in your chest. 

¨Y/N-san, did you press the emergency button?¨ 

¨No!¨ you stopped for a second, failing to hold your drunken giggles for yourself. ¨But that´d be a great idea right now. I think I remember where it is!¨ 

You twisted your body towards the panel, ignoring Koby´s attempts to stop you, and started to touch the many buttons, searching for the emergency one. 

Click. 

Click. 

Click, click, click. 

¨It´s not worki-¨ you squealed when the elevator struck again, piercing sound of creaking metal cooling every disc in your spine.

¨Y/N-san, please stop pressing the buttons!¨ Koby cried. 

The feeling was too strange. You felt everything rocking slightly, no light was coming in, and the adrenaline made it difficult for you to calm down and adapt to the darkness. 

Your breathing had already become irregular and heavier when the emergency light turned on. It was dim and greenish but better than nothing. 

¨Oh, no.¨ he said.

¨No, no. Don´t say oh, no.¨ You shook your head. 

¨Y/N-san, that´s the emergency light.¨

¨Yeah, so...?¨

¨So the elevators are not a priority now.¨

¨And that´s bad...?¨

¨Well, yes, because the energy is being used somewhere else.¨

You stared at him for a few seconds. All of his words made total sense, and in a normal situation, you would be able to handle it without further complications. 

¨Koby, I don´t know if you´re getting somewhere...¨

¨Y/N-san, there was probably a problem with the generators, and they had to redirect the energy consumption.¨ you nodded, starting to connect some dots in your head. ¨I think they are sending everything to the kitchen beca-¨

¨Wait.¨ you said with a terrified expression painted all over your face. ¨We´re stuck?¨

He saw the panic grow in your eyes. 

¨Y-Yes. B-But it should be back soon, don´t worry. Someone will come.¨ 

You remained in silence for the first hour, mainly because you kept falling asleep.

Little by little, the effects of the alcohol on your body began to cease and your temperature to cool down. Added to that, the darker the night fell, the chillier it got. So at some point, you couldn´t sleep anymore because your bones wouldn´t stop shivering. 

Koby handed you his coat as soon as he took notice of your discomfort. 

¨No, you don´t have to-¨

¨Y/N-san, you´ll end up getting sick.¨ he spoke, leaning a bit forward so you could take the piece of clothing. 

¨Thanks.¨

A huge smile rose on your lips when the coat fell on your shoulders. It was incredibly warm and had his soothing laundry fresh smell. 

Maybe with a hint of meat from the party. 

It served you like a cape, so you pulled the collars closer to your body and curled up to retain the warmth. If you closed your eyes, you could almost feel like it was him. 

That granted you another nap. 

Still, after about twenty minutes, something woke you up. This time it was a sneeze from Koby, who leaned against the wall, hugging his legs close to his body. 

Guilt hit you right in the guts. 

You crawled towards him, gently poking his leg. 

¨Koby-san...¨

He raised his head and mumbled something you didn't understand. Maybe he asked if you were ok. 

¨I... I´m still a little cold... c-can I sit by your side?¨

¨Uh? Yes, of course.¨ he shifted on the same spot, only to return to the previous position. 

His voice was a little nasal and rasped, probably from the cold. You hoped he wouldn´t get a sore throat. 

The coat became a blanket that you used to cover both of your legs, although he made sure you had gotten the bottom end since it had more fabric.

¨Are you feeling better, Y/N-san?¨

¨I am, thank you.¨ you whispered.

¨Y-You can lay on my shoulder... if you want.¨

You smiled and did as he suggested, curling up closer to him. It took you very little to fall asleep once you rested your head on his shoulder. His body began to feel warmer, and he even asked if you wanted to hook your arm with his to maintain warmth. 

Using the last bit of boldness provided by the saké, you reached for his hand. You had this sensation, deep down, that the feelings you carried for him were reciprocated. But you could deal with this some other time. For now, you focused on calming down the fireworks inside of your chest. 

[EXTRA SCENE]

A roaring noise followed by a ray of light fished you out of whatever dreams you were having. You pulled the blanket up to cover your eyes and snuggled deeper into the warm body in front of you.

Nothing crossed his mind at that moment. All you wanted to do was get rid of the light and have a few more hours to sleep. However, a sound like a throat clearing caught your attention.

You blinked a few times, images of last night taking form in your memory. The last thing you remembered before blacking out was you leaning against Koby.

I must have slipped to the floor at some point. 

Your hands were wrapped in a turquoise fabric, and it didn't take long for you to realize that the fabric was wrapped around someone.

Koby's scarf.

Koby!

You ended up lying in front of each other, sharing his uniform. Your face a few centimeters from his chest.

After yawning a couple of times, you opened a distance to look at him. 

His face was wrinkled, brows furrowed, and lips turned into a pout. The round glasses were no longer on his head, and the bandana, like his hair, was frowzy. 

So adorable.

A louder throat clearing made you turn your head. The groggy smile on your lips disappeared instantly with the image of the elevator repairer, Garp, and dozens of other marines staring at the two of you.

[holidaywishes]

and now we’re here

  Requested: 👍

  Summary/Request: This one is a collab with @kayleafs221​! We flash back with (Y/N) after Freddie left her and to her finding out she was pregnant

  Author’s Note: We have a part three! I wasn’t going to do more than two but @kayleafs221 wants ✨drama✨ so we’re gonna see what we can conjure up together. We teamed up to see how much drama we could fit in so hopefully it fits the bill. @kayleafs221 also mentioned that she wanted to structure this sort of how New Moon was written so we went with it! Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter and I’ve got one last chapter in me to make it all fluffy and bring these two back together! Stay Golden, loves! <3

  masterlist

  the other masterlist

xx

  It had already been a month. You kept telling yourself you shouldn’t be so devastated but he hadn’t called or even texted. You were alone. He had left you completely alone and he wasn’t coming back. You found yourself curled up in his large hoodie on the bathroom floor for the umpteenth time while your chest tightened with every sob and gasp you took as if he took your lungs with him; falling asleep clinging to the last piece you had of him.

Month 2

  You had no choice. You had to throw yourself into work, it was all you could do. Even when you were home, your laptop was out. You let yourself be distracted in any way you could but even that was no use. You had been sick all week and your boss had made you stay home. You didn’t know what to do as you sat on your couch refusing to watch movies because they were all the same. Always a happy ending and the thought of love and sex made you sick, sick to your stomach. You were determined to do something productive, maybe going for a walk would make you feel better. A walk by the beach. It was just as you remembered it. Beautiful. Peaceful. Suddenly your mind was flooded.

  “I’ve been traded to Toronto. I leave at 4am.” What bullshit was that? How could he leave so suddenly and not even be phased? Not have any remorse for any of it?

  “Stay in touch Freddie.” You were so stupid to think that he would care enough to keep whatever this was going long distance. You had to face reality, that you didn’t mean anything to him. It came again, the dizziness, the shortness of breath. It couldn’t be stopped this time. There was only black. You woke up to the incessant sound of beeping, beeping, what was all that beeping? Your eyes were met with an uncomfortable brightness. This isn’t the beach, you thought to yourself, before rubbing your head, “What?” you started to say, confused as to how you ended up in a hospital bed

  “Ah, Miss (Y/L/N) I see you are awake,” the nurse checking your vitals said, “I’ll get the doctor for you, I’m sure you have many questions.” Sitting yourself up, you watched her leave the room before finding the clock and realizing that it had been two hours since you went to the beach. You couldn’t believe you were unconscious for that long, this was crazy, “she’s still groggy” the nurse said, directing the doctor to your bedside

  “That’s normal,” the doctor explained with a smile, “well, we’ve run some tests and you’re severely dehydrated”

  “Dehydrated?” you asked, “I don’t un– I mean I haven’t been out of bed for a couple weeks but I’ve just been dealing with some things”

  “Seven” he smiled, checking the paperwork in front of him casually

  “Excuse me?” you replied, furrowing your brow

  “Seven weeks,” he added, “my guess is that you haven’t been drinking a lot of water”

  “I haven’t really been up for it” you cowered

  “Well, please do,” the doctor said, “for your baby’s sake”

  “I’m sorry what?” you exclaimed, “Baby?” you said, shaking your head

  “Yes,” the doctor repeated, “you’re about seven weeks along. Give or take a couple days. All women handle their pregnancies differently, which might account for your drowsiness and any mood swings you may have been experiencing”

  “I’m not pregnant” you scoffed, readjusting yourself in your bed

  “You are” the doctor returned your scoff, seemingly annoyed at your behaviour

  “I can’t be…”

  “The results say otherwise”

  “But I haven’t had sex, I haven’t left my bed in.. like two months”

  “Which is about seven weeks”

  “But I… I can’t be pregnant”

  “Is there anyone we can call for you?”

  “No… there’s no one” you lowered your eyes as the realization came over you.

Month 3

  After you were released from the hospital, you tried to make the pregnancy easier on yourself by reading a million books and telling your parents what you needed or letting your mom tell you what she thought you needed

  “You know what I think will really help?” she said, “telling the father…”

  “Mom…” you whined

  “He deserves to know, too.” She was right, of course, as all mom’s usually are so you agreed to reach out but you deleted his number when you convinced yourself it was better to forget about him, forcing you to search him out online; a huge mistake really. There were stories about girls who he’d slept with and left ‘in his wake,’ none of which you could be sure of their validity, but then you’d find pictures of him hanging out with Auston Matthews or William Nylander or any of the younger teammates in clubs and bars and you could only imagine that their behaviours spilled into his, so you let it go.

Month 9

  “But what happens when that kid is born with red hair and freckles? Or when he’s a natural athlete?” your sister asked

  “What do you mean?” you scoffed

  “You can’t hide that,” she tried, tilting her head as she continued, hoping you’d get her point. “He’s gonna know. If there’s a picture, he’s gonna know. He’s not dense…”

  “The kid probably won’t be a red head. So he’d never know..” you said knowing very well it could be a possibility. She huffed when she realized she wouldn’t get through your stubbornness. As time went on, you realized that there was no use denying it, Jackson was already excelling at every sport he tried. Knowing this, you kept him as far away from ice as possible. You knew it was wrong but you just couldn’t risk it, especially after so many of the Ducks already knew you. Whenever you thought about reaching out and telling him the truth, something was being said about him. He seemed to be a magnet for negativity.

  “Possible Frederik Andersen injury a very troubling turn for Maple Leafs”

  “Maple Leafs placing all their faith in Frederik Andersen”

  “Andersen Said What Every Maple Leaf Fan Is Thinking”

  “Maple Leafs goalie Frederik Andersen fined $2K for embellishment”

  “Toronto Maple Leafs: Andersen has been a Disaster”

  Every headline seemed to be worse than the last and you knew that if you were feeling stressed just reading them, then he was probably shutting himself away to hide from everyone after living with them. This was a normal thing for goalies to go through in the NHL but there was something about the way Toronto was treating Freddie that made you want to be there for him. But you couldn’t make a decision like that so easily anymore. It wasn’t just about you and your feelings anymore, you had your baby boy to think about and the older he got, the more you could see his personality grow and the more his personality grew, the happier he was; you couldn’t imagine taking that away from him. You couldn’t take that life away from him. But watching Freddie’s career hit highs and lows, noticing he was alone through most of it, your heart broke for him. You hoped that, somehow, your love would reach him. You hoped for his happiness even before your own. Even so, you would protect your son through everything, knowing that meant it might cost you the truest of love.

Toronto 2021

  “Why did you lie to me?” Freddie said under his breath. You could tell he was angry and there was no getting away from this.

  “What are you talking about? I didn’t lie. I told you I had a one night stand with some guy– why are we even talking about this again?” You tried your best to keep the story straight, hoping to appease him

  “You lied about Jackson not being mine!” he started to shout

  “I didn’t…” you stammered. There’s no way. He couldn’t know. You had made sure of it

  “I did the math… I saw your post and I went back because something didn’t… add up…” he admitted, “and the math didn’t fit with some one night stand. That kid in there, who looked an awful lot like me as a kid, he’s mine. And you lied about it. You kept it from me, kept HIM from me!”

  “HE’S MY SON!” you cried. Everything was falling apart and you weren’t sure what to do anymore. There was no getting around this, you had to let out what you’d been holding in from that night, “and you left me! YOU LEFT US!”

  “BUT HE’S MY SON TOO!” he countered and you furrowed your brow, shaking your head as you tried to think of what to say next.

  “I made a choice, Freddie. I looked at how quickly our life together changed and I… made a choice. I couldn’t put a child through all of that. Moving at the drop of a hat, having to say goodbye to friends and homes and cities whenever your job called for it… You never looked back, you never reached out. After two months of waiting, I woke up alone in a hospital and you didn’t even care to call. So I did this. I HAD TO” you confessed, sorrow filling your eyes as you watched his face soften. “So yeah, I lied. But I didn’t lie to hurt you. I lied to protect him. No matter what. I make no apologies for that.”

  “How was I supposed to know that you were in the hospital?”

  “It doesn’t matter, Freddie,” you sighed, “the point is, you left and I was alone and I couldn’t wait for you.”

  “So what now?”

  “I don’t know,” you started. “If this had happened before you got traded, our life would’ve been so different. I pictured it, you know,” you smiled, “our life. With Jackson. We looked so happy in my daydreams”

  “We could be happy like that,” he whispered, moving close to you, “in real life”

  “I can’t change his life for you”

  “I don’t want you to change his life,” he smiled, closing the gap between the two of you and you felt your heartbeat in your head, making it hard to think straight, “I just want to be part of it...”

  “He doesn’t know who you are” you said through bated breath

  “Let’s tell him then” he exclaimed

  “No,” you insisted, putting your hands on his forearms, “if we’re going to do this, we have to take it slow”

  “Slow?” he asked, leaning down to your ear, “how slow?”

  “I just don’t want him to feel overwhelmed,” you replied, your hands drifting up his arms, “just... start by introducing yourself to him... We’ll have lunch”

  “I can do that” he smirked, pushing your hair back before laying a kiss to the exposed skin of your collarbone

  “You have to be patient”

  “I can do that” he repeated as a moan left your mouth

  “I don’t know if you can” you chuckled, finally pushing him away from you

  “I can”

  “I’m serious”

  “So am I!” he laughed, placing his hands on your hips to stop you from turning around, “he’s my son and I will do anything to get to know him”

  “He can’t know you’re his dad yet,” you said again, “I know it seems weird but, please, just don’t fight me on this”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it”

  “Good” you joked, cocking your eyebrow before he smiled at you. That smile always broke you, always made your heart louder than your head, and, right now, you were more than happy to listen to it. He met you in the middle, pressing a kiss to your lips before his hands pushed your body into his and suddenly, it all felt so perfect. Like no time had passed. He was yours again and you were determined to keep it that way.

[ateezmakemeweep]

(1/7) gluttony: an inordinate desire to consume more than that which one requires.

(envy) (gluttony) (greed) (lust) (pride) (sloth) (wrath)

hongjoong x reader

word count: 3k

angst (warning: alcohol abuse)

it was the 7th night in three months you were woken by the sound of your phone blaring, a number you were coming to recognize making your stomach sink. 

you knew what you were gonna hear. 

hongjoong’s drunken voice slurring that he needed you to pick him up. that he hadn’t been doing anything but got busted by the police and needed to pay yet another fine.

it was the same thing you’d heard every other time you talked to him at five o’clock in the morning. charged with disorderly conduct as he paraded around the city a drunken disaster. 

he was always a happy drunk, the life of the party who made everyone laugh and made alcohol look as if it was a mood booster; but more often than not, it would quickly turn sour. 

he would mouth off to the wrong people but be able to dip before a fight broke out. he would conceal his alcohol in a brown paper bag, him and his rowdy friends passing the judgmental gazes of families and couples. 

he would ignore your texts and calls pleading with him to be careful and to come home at a reasonable hour. 

but you never ignored him. 

no matter how mad and upset and frustrated he made you, you never ignored him. you got out of the bed, threw on a pair of shoes and made your way to the police station the same way you’re doing right now. 

you watch your boyfriend in defeat as he walks out of the police station, opening your car door and plopping down in the seat wordlessly. 

you make no move to leave yet, silence lingering between the both of you. you’re waiting for an apology or an explanation or something, anything, even though it’s things you’ve heard a thousand times before.

that he hadn’t meant to drink that much. 

that shots were on wooyoung that night so he couldn’t turn it down. 

that he’ll stop drinking all together because he can’t keep paying these fines and being brought in. 

“hongjoong,” you say quietly but he only groans, rolling his head back onto the seat like you’ve screamed at him. 

“i know, y/n,” he says, annoyance in his tone like he has any right to feel that way. like he was the one disturbed in the middle of his sleep and had to drive to the police station again to pick up his significant other of three years. 

“i don’t think you do. this is the 7th time i’m picking you up hongjoong. it’s starting to-”

“baby, my head is fuckin’ killing me and i just wanna sleep. can we talk about this later?”

he meets your gaze full of concern and disappointment but it’s like it doesn’t even phase him. 

like he doesn’t care how much pain and devastation his drinking brings you. how much he’s missed out on and made you miss out on with his addiction (something he refuses to admit is, in fact, an addiction) within these past three years. 

unsurprisingly, you first met him at a bar. 

you were drawn to him immediately, his handsome face and electric energy that had you guys leaving together just hours later. 

but opposed to how most bar meetings go, you hadn’t had sex. you talked all night in his small apartment, the one you moved into only four months after dating.

you guys had such a natural chemistry and connection, the good times of going on dates and cuddling on the couch and hanging out with his friends really good. 

but then the bad times got bad when you saw just how much he drank. 

how you’d get home from school or work sometimes and see he’d already had a 12 pack of beers before five o’clock. how he went out almost every single weekend and got completely shit faced. 

like the first time he met your parents, promising to meet you guys for dinner at the nicest restaurant in town. 

you told them the second you sat down how great he was, how funny and kind and great he treated you; but the more time ticked on, the more they doubted you. 

because not only did he stumble in almost an hour late, he was drunk. 

a slur to his words and a stagger in his step as he sat down and ordered another beer. but he was happy, at least, he talked with your dad and laughed with your mom and you figured, okay, it could’ve gone worse. 

this could’ve been way worse. 

but then it was worse on your birthday, when all your old friends surprised you at the party hongjoong had thrown you. 

as the night went on, though, your boyfriend celebrated your birthday like it was his own. downing shots and buying shots and cheering shots in a way you still can’t believe he lived through. 

you begged him toward the second half of the night to stop, to just drink some water and leave the bartender alone for a little bit. but he only rolled his eyes and told you to loosen up, that the least you could do on your birthday was to stop being such a stiff. 

hurt not by his words but by the way he continued to get obliterated, tears pricked your eyes and one of your best friends put his arm around you to comfort you.

he wiped your eyes and begged you not to cry on your birthday, to not let your asshole boyfriend upset you on your day. 

but hongjoong only saw the boy’s arm on your shoulder and stumbled over with all his liquid courage, pushing him away before punching him square in the face. 

it hadn’t left a lot of damage due to his state but it was enough to cause alarm, the first time he’d gotten violent the first time you told him you thought he had a problem and needed to go to rehab. 

he laughed at you like you’d said the funniest thing in the world, insisting he didn’t have a problem and definitely didn’t need to go to rehab. 

and even when he missed your graduation because he���d been hungover, he still didn’t believe you. 

you went back home after the ceremony with a lump in your throat, your cap and gown still on as you quietly asked him if he still wanted to come to your celebration dinner.

his eyes popped open and you saw the sadness and guilt in them immediately, his arm wrapping around you and pulling your body into his. he kissed your head and apologized for over sleeping, the scent of alcohol still on his breath making your eyes prick with tears. 

he tried to get up and change but ended up vomiting on the floor, your head shaking frantically as you told him to not worry about it. that you’d bring him home food and you guys could do something another day. 

your parents and friends weren’t surprised when you told them hongjoong was sick and couldn’t make it, knowing looks and sympathetic gazes that made your heart start to sink.

because you knew he had a problem and knew he needed help but what else could you do? 

you tried to talk to him and asked him to go but he’s not admitting that he has a problem; you can’t help someone who doesn’t wanna be helped. 

you told yourself you’re just gonna wait for that moment. wait until he’s so low and broken that he comes to you and says he needs to go to rehab or aa. 

but that time never came. 

he’s missed your promotion dinners, he’s missed your birthday celebrations, he’s forgotten your anniversary, all because he was too busy going out at night. 

he was the boyfriend you knew and loved during the week, kissing you softly and hugging you and telling you how much he loved you every hour of the day. 

but then the weekend would come and that hongjoong was gone. 

you were lucky if you were able to have a 30 minute conversation with him, usually sleeping the day away before he came out to peck your head and tell you he’d be back home later. 

in the beginning you would pout cutely and ask him to stay or if you could join him. 

but he always said you wouldn’t wanna come with them, that they got too crazy and he didn’t want you in that kind of environment. he told you he’d try to be back before you fell asleep only to wake you up stumbling in at four in the morning.

but when the problem became more persistent and when the arrests started happening, that’s when you really knew you needed to talk to him. really needed to get to the root of his problem and beg him as someone who loves him to get help. 

“i don’t need help and i don’t have a problem,” he always said, “we can talk about it later.”

and that’s exactly what he was saying now, looking at you pleadingly because you know he just wanted to collapse into bed and sleep until nightfall. 

with a defeated sigh and not another wasted word, you drove him home. 

he took your hand and walked with you upstairs before diving into bed, dragging your body down with him as he nuzzled into your neck.

“i missed you,” he mumbled into your skin before his breaths turned even and he fell asleep with his arms around you. 

you slipped away from him after a few moments, the smell of alcohol and sweat making tears prick your eyes. 

you don’t wanna give up on him but you can’t do this much longer. you can’t keep wondering where he is at night and plagued with fear about what he’s doing. 

about how many shots or how many beers he had. 

most people are scared that their boyfriend is gonna go out and cheat on them when they’re drunk off their ass. 

but you’re scared that the next shot is gonna be the one that kills him, that he’s gonna stumble into the street and get hit by car or mouth off to the wrong person and get his ass handed to him. 

these thoughts run in your mind all day, trying to distract yourself by cleaning and reading and watching tv.

none of that works. 

nothing works because you just wanna sit with him and talk to him. show him how much he’s been hurting you and beg him to stop. 

you hear his feet pad out of the bedroom at around five in the evening, turning around to see his hair a mess and eyes hazy. he plops down on the couch and pulls you into him, kissing your forehead as he asks how your day was. 

you bite the inside of your cheek so you don’t cry or scream, your teary eyes trained on the television before he pulls your face away and looks over you with concern.

“hey,” he says softly, in the tone you’ve come to love and miss so much these days. “what’s wrong?”

and that’s when the tears come to the surface, a look you haven’t seen in his eyes for so long completely breaking you. you miss him, you miss him being here for you and holding you and acting like the man you fell in love with. 

“are you really asking me that?” you cry out quietly. “i...i can’t keep doing this hongjoong.”

“doing what?” he asks, his thumb trailing over your face gently; and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think he really didn’t know. really had no idea that seeing him drink and destroy his body has been draining the life out of you. 

“you have a problem, hongjoong, and you need to get help,” you tell him, your eyes meeting his and already seeing the objection in them; but your own are teary and sad and defeated and it’s something he’s not ignorant to. 

“i can’t keep wondering every night if you’re fucking dead just for me to pick you up at the police station.” 

“it’s only been a few times, baby, and i’m sorry. you just know how crazy wooyoung can-”

“i’m not talking about wooyoung!” you snap, “i’m not dating wooyoung and i’m not crying over wooyoung. i haven’t picked wooyoung up seven times for disorderly conduct just for him to do the same shit over and over again.”

he’s angry at the way you’re calling him out but he can’t find it in himself to fight back, the brokenness in your tone and tears on your face making his stomach twist in disgust; he did this and it’s his fault that you’re this sad right now. 

“it’s so draining, hongjoong,” you say, voice barely above a shaky whisper. 

“i can’t keep watching you do this, okay? and i need you to please, please stop. if you need help, i will help you. we can look at programs together or look for meetings or do anything you want to. but please, i can’t keep thinking that this is gonna fucking kill y-” your voice breaks as a sob leaves your mouth and he immediately pulls you into him, his hand moving to the back of your head to stroke your hair. he feels tears sting the back of his eyes at hearing your muffled cries in his shirt, rocking you back and forth as he shushes you. 

he tells you right there that he’ll stop. 

that from this day on, he won’t ever drink again. for real this time. that he’s gonna do it for you, cold turkey without the help of rehabs or meetings.

“it’s better to get real help, hongjoong, it’s an addiction,” you tell him. 

maybe because a part of you knew he wasn’t gonna be able to do this for you or anyone else. that he had to stop because he saw the issues and error in his ways and didn’t wanna feel like this anymore. 

but he kisses your face and holds you tight and assures you that he’s not gonna do it again. that he loves you more than alcohol and is sorry he made you feel this way. 

and when one weekend passes, you stupidly think maybe he was right. 

you couldn’t remember the last full saturday you had with him, a picnic date during the day followed by a romantic dinner at night and movie at home. it had been just like when you first started dating, when everything was pure and sweet and you guys had nothing to worry about. 

but then next weekend, when you were out for your friend’s birthday, you had a bad feeling in your gut. 

you told hongjoong you wouldn’t go if he was gonna be too tempted but he only scoffed and told you absolutely not, that san and mingi were just gonna come over and play video games.

“i told you, baby, i’m done,” he reassured, pecking a kiss to your cheek and smiling sweetly at you. “i love you, okay? have fun.”

when you stumbled in a little past one o’clock, with no sight of him in the dark apartment, you knew right there that you two were done. tears pricked your eyes and you slid down the wall as you hid your face in your hands and cried. 

cried because you couldn’t stop him and you were silly to think you could. 

cried for him and whatever demons he had that made him go out and drown his sorrows away. that he didn’t feel like he could come to you or anyone else in his life besides a bottle of liquor. 

you laid awake until suddenly you weren’t. 

until that familiar ringing of your phone ripped you conscious, the first words in your ear a lowly spoken “i’m sorry.” 

you took your usual route to the police station and watched him walk toward the car with his head hung, plopping down next to you and looking at you with sadness in his eyes. 

“y/n, i’m sorry...i...we...we only meant to get one drink but-”

“stop,” you begged quietly, pulling back out into the street as you made your way back to his house. you walked him up, crossing your arms over your chest so he didn’t try to hold your hand before watching him flop down onto the bed. 

you just watched him lay there, his hands holding his head like he was in a grave amount of pain. you thought for sure he was sleeping before he looked up, his eyes hazy and pale face looking at you with a mix of guilt and sorrow.

“baby, i’m sorry. you have every right to not believe me and to be mad at me, but i promise, that was the last time. i-i even told the guys that i can’t anymore and they said-”

his head lolls to the side before his eyes close and for a split second you think he’s dead. 

but then the rise and fall of his chest a few seconds later relaxes you, allowing the tears to stream down your face again before you make your way to the closet. 

you quietly pack your clothes and shoes into a suitcase, texting your parents and asking if it’s okay that you stay with them for a little. when a hanger flies from out of the closet and hits the floor with a loud crash, your head snaps up to see if it’s woken your...hongjoong. 

but the boy doesn’t even flinch, his eyes closed and mouth open as his body recovers from all the damage he’s done. you linger at his bedside before kneeling down, feeling sobs threatening to leave you as your hand gently runs through his hair. 

you don’t know how long you sit there and watch him sleep but it’s enough time for your mom to frantically call you and ask what happened, simply telling her that you’re leaving now and will be there in a little to explain.

you take your bags out into the hallway and fill up a glass of water, leaving it at his bedside as you look down at him one last time. 

you hope that when he wakes, your absence will be something productive. 

not that he’s gonna go into more of a downward spiral because you left him but show him that if he had just gotten help, this would’ve worked out. 

that people are so desperate to help him but also can’t watch him get worse and worse.

“i’m sorry,” you say to the sleeping boy quietly. 

because you wanted to help him so badly. you really wanted to be by his side during this and show him that you were a person who was gonna stick by him no matter what.

somehow your lowly spoken words make his eyes flutter open, looking at you in a sleepy daze before a small smile quirks at his lips. 

“hi, baby,” he mumbles lowly, his eyelids heavy as sleep starts to consume him  again. “i missed you.” 

you feel your eyes gloss over and wait a few seconds for him to fully fall back asleep before getting up and walking out into the hallway. 

you wipe at your tears and tell yourself you can’t go back in there no matter how much you want to - that, for both of you, this needs to happen.

you hope that he finds it in himself to get help one day. 

you hope that this all didn’t happen for nothing and that one day, he’ll be able to fight whatever’s inside of him that causes him to do this. 

and when the boy wakes up at night time, the apartment dark and empty and eerily quiet, it’s like a part of him already knows you’re gone. 

he can’t say he really blames you either, he’d almost been waiting for this moment he knew was gonna come.

when you woke up one day and realized that he was never gonna get better. 

that the only thing he can do is drown his demons and sorrows with a bottle and hope that someone will be dumb enough to stick around and beg him to stop something he can’t.

[kurokoros]

some like it hot (1/4) | todoroki x reader x bakugou

Rated: T (bakugou’s dirty mouth, sexual humor)

Words: 9.3K

Pairing: shouto todoroki x fem!reader x katsuki bakugou

Summary: A Charity Fundraiser leads to you going home with not one, but two of the most popular Pro Heroes of your generation. They say some like it hot, and you certainly aren’t complaining.

AKA: a totally not self-indulgent threesome fic

AN: Well, this isn’t what I was expecting to write, but here we are! I was just planning to write a pwp threesome fic but now there are feelings involved, and this is my life now. Also available on AO3. Ask to be added to the tag-list. Chapters will be weekly until completion! Thanks in advance for reading! Note, this does start with a flash forward.  A note: the reader does have a name used only in dialogue because I hate using “Y/N” in fics. Both names are puns. “Yuna” = Y/N, and the kanji in “Hikai” means “fire time”.

You can honestly say this wasn’t what you were expecting to happen tonight.

Chilled fingers follow the curve of your spine, starting at the base of your neck and trailing downward achingly slow. The hitch in your breathing is loud, and Shouto’s lips curve into a barely there smile against the back of your head. Deftly, he slips a finger between your shoulder and the pretty dress you’re wearing, teasing the soft skin there before you let him brush the fabric aside.

The straps of your dress slide down your arms teasingly, and a pair of narrowed, ruby red eyes immediately drag down your body, appraising you as more of your soft skin is revealed. Katsuki licks his lips as the silky fabric pools around your feet, expression nothing short of greedy as he watches the two of you, though he doesn’t move. Not yet. You shiver under his gaze and the icy kiss that Shouto presses against the side of your neck. Hands drag down your sides to grasp your hips, the difference in temperature between the two making you gasp and squirm, but Shouto holds you firmly against his chest.

The boys lock eyes over your shoulder. A silent agreement.

“All right, angel.” Katsuki’s voice is deeper than usual, and startlingly calm. “Be a good girl and moan for me an’ Icy Hot.”

Shouto huffs at the old insult, but then his teeth drag down the column of your throat and you do exactly as Katsuki demands, much to their amusement.

Chuckling to himself, Katsuki’s eyes rake over you again, taking in the lacy lingerie previously hidden beneath your dress, and the strappy high-heels that do little to keep you from being dwarfed by their heights. You swear his fingers spark as he grasps the front of his dress shirt, popping the buttons one by one. Patiently, Shouto’s left hand draws small circles against your hip, his right skimming the smooth skin of your stomach, trailing higher and higher until he’s grasping your chin between cold and calloused fingers.

They look at you like they want to devour you.

And you plan on letting them.

One Week Earlier

“Midoriya!” you snap, throwing open the door to the Pro Hero's office and letting it slam against the wall with a loud crack. Izuku’s head snaps up in surprise, big, green eyes locking with yours, and the intern sitting across from him releases a rather undignified squeak at your sudden intrusion. 

Immediately, a grin spreads across Izuku’s face. “Oh, hey, Hikai—”

Your narrowed eyes and the manila folder pointed in his direction are a warning, and he shuts his mouth quickly.

“Don’t ‘hey’ me, Midoriya. I’ve told you at least a dozen times now to give me the list of agencies you want contacted for the charity gala next week. We need it finalized by the end of the day, or I swear...” You leave the threat hanging as you place your free hand on your hip, but you get the point across easily enough.

Realization dawns on Izuku’s face. His eyes widen further if possible, his mouth dropping open into a silent “oh” as his neck begins to flush. Across from him, Izuku’s intern Seiji Nakamura shifts awkwardly and glances between the two of you, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else as you chastise Deku, one of the top rising heroes of the new generation.

And chastise you will. Deku may be the Pro Hero, but you’re the one that runs this shit show.

“But, I thought…” Izuku trails off suddenly and rubs the back of his head, a sheepish look on his face. 

You quirk a brow. “Thought what?” Your heel stops tapping against the floor impatiently when he sends you the best puppy dog look he can manage at twenty-three, which shouldn’t be nearly as effective as it is considering you’re both adults now. “Midoriya, just how many agencies were you planning on inviting this time?”

“... All of them?”

In response, your eye twitches. You highly consider smacking yourself with the folders still clutched in your right hand, but settle for pursing your lips at the pleading look he’s still sending you, hope shining in those big, green eyes. Even Seiji looks baffled by Izuku’s reply, blue eyes half-hidden behind a shaggy mess of dark, curly hair.

Honestly, you can’t say you’re all that surprised by the overzealous answer. After working with Izuku for three years and counting, it’s certainly something you’ve come to expect, though you can’t help but wish he would tone things down just a little. But Izuku has always had the most uncanny way of connecting with people and inspiring them, you included, and already, you find yourself thinking up ways to make this work in less than a week.

Ever since he opened his own agency three years ago, Izuku has always been adamant about including everyone in these charity events, despite any tensions that may exist between certain Pro Heroes. Somehow, he manages to curb any animosity with his sweet nature, flitting around between different groups of people and putting smiles on everyone’s faces. You’d think that was his quirk if you hadn’t seen him in action before.

Shaking your head, you level him with a tired look. You’ll have to call in a few favors. “You’re going to give me gray hairs someday, you know that?”

Izuku’s smile widens. “You’re the best, Hikai!”

“Don’t you forget it.”

You cross the short distance to his desk and set down the folders. His brows furrow and his head cocks to the side in confusion as he glances between you and the mysterious files. Casting a glance at Seiji, you decide to keep things vague. “These are the files you requested about the activity in Utapa. They’re ordered by urgency. Tsukauchi wants your answer by Friday at the latest.”

If Izuku is surprised, he manages not to show it. “Thanks, Hikai. Is there anything else?” 

“Your meeting with Ground Zero and Shouto starts in an hour. Would you like me to just let them in?” The as usual remains silent.

Seiji perks up at the mention of the other Pros, just as popular and respected as Deku himself. When his eyes widen, you’re reminded that the previous meeting between the three Heroes was cancelled due to the recent disaster that destroyed much of the eastern coast. The last two weeks since Seiji joined them had been busy for everyone between rescue operations and a small spike in criminal activity, but things have finally begun to return to normal.

Nodding, Izuku offers you a smile. “You know how Kacchan is,” he says simply, making you roll your eyes. 

Don’t you ever. Katsuki has been an absolute pain in your ass for years, always yelling and swearing and storming into Izuku’s office even though the polite thing would be to wait for permission. You’ve grown used to it, of course. It wasn’t easy coming to terms with the fact that you were friends with the huffy blond in high school on account of him being a reluctant extension of Izuku, but since then, you’ve grown to appreciate his friendship. He’s calmed down a lot over the years you’ve known him, and he begrudgingly weaseled his way into your heart after the two of you crushed the rest of his former classmates in beer pong.

At least Shouto is marginally more polite, if not closed-off and occasionally a little too brash, though he always means well. You’ve grown used to that, too.

In either case, you can’t say you mind the eye-candy.

“Though,” Izuku continues suddenly, an uncharacteristic flicker of mischief in his gaze, “I’m sure they’ll want to stop and talk to you first. It’s been a few weeks since they’ve been here. They probably miss you.”

You snort, momentarily forgetting about Seiji sitting beside you and blatantly ignoring Izuku’s comment, even as you feel yourself flush. “It hasn’t been that long,” you tell him, neglecting to mention that you recently went out for drinks with Katsuki and Kirishima and managed to snag a quick lunch with Shouto between the craziness of last week. Though, judging by the look in his eyes, Izuku must already know. 

With that, you straighten and clear your throat. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some phone calls to make.”

Izuku’s amusement doesn’t fade as you stalk back out the door and close it behind you with a gentle click.

It’s nearly an hour later during a lapse between calls that you sigh and drop your head into your hands, silently lamenting your choice in career up to this moment. As much as you enjoy working with Izuku and other Pro Heroes, you could stand a few less calls with old men that think you don’t know how to do your job.

So far, you’ve barely made a dent in the amount of calls you have to make for this charity event. To have everything ready in less than a week will be a challenge, but you always have liked a little last-minute pressure. With the evacuations and rescues done, all that’s left is to provide financial support to those devastated by the recent tsunami, and that’s where you come in. You may not have a combat-oriented quirk fit for a Hero, but this is something you can do.

Leaning back in your chair, you stretch your arms above your head, relaxing for just a second before you have to make your next call. In the meantime, you glance at the report you’d been thumbing through earlier, a copy of Izuku’s statement from the last villain he fought. Just another thing you need to finish this afternoon.

You look over the file quickly, hardly hearing the tell-tale click of Izuku’s office door opening and closing. 

Absently, your eyes flick away from the report as you hear the scuff of sneakers against the tile, catching sight of the newest addition to Deku’s Agency.

Izuku’s intern, Seiji, hesitates as he passes your desk, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye as he fidgets with his costume gloves. Momentarily, you’re reminded of how adorable and awkward Izuku was when you first met during the start of your second year at UA, and an unwitting smile curls on your lips.

“Can I help you, Nakamura?” you ask, pausing midway through the report laid out across your desk.

The teenage boy startles at the sound of your voice, eyes wide as he rips his gaze away from the clock. You press your lips into a tight line to keep from snickering with immediate understanding.

There are thirty minutes left until Katsuki and Shouto are supposed to meet with Izuku.

“Ah! No, everything is fine, Ms. Hikai!” he hurries to tell you, waving his hands in front of him frantically. Big, blue eyes meet yours as his face flushes with embarrassment that’s practically a carbon-copy of the expression your boss makes when he’s flustered. If you didn’t know better, you might think the two were related, though, you suppose that’s why they get along as well as they do.

Izuku isn’t exactly selective about taking on interns from UA, but you’d be blind not to see how easily the two of them clicked after they first met. Seiji Nakamura is only a first year, not the top of his class by any means, but with the same drive and determination that you saw in Izuku nearly a decade ago. It’s only his third week interning under the Pro Hero Deku, but already he’s improved greatly, becoming a welcome addition to the Agency.

You won’t be surprised if Izuku decides to take him on as a sidekick after he graduates.

Seiji shuffles his feet and casts another wistful glance at the clock, and you decide to take pity on the poor boy. 

“Did Deku send you home for the day?” you ask, despite knowing the answer. You peer at him out of the corner of your eyes, pretending to go back to your reports. 

Slowly, he nods. 

“Good. Then you can help me finish filing the last of these reports.” You reach for another file. “What?” you continue when he gapes at you. “You didn’t think hero work was just beating up criminals, did you?”

“No, Ma’am!” he’s quick to sputter out, flushing all the way to the tips of his ears. 

You grin. “Well, then you can help me with this for a few minutes.”

Seiji nods, eyes shining with familiar determination, and it isn’t long before he’s plopped onto a chair beside you, carefully filing a stack of reports sitting on the corner of your desk while you alternate between doing the same and making another series of quick phone calls.

It’s during another lapse in these calls that Seiji peeks at you over the top of the file he’s reading. “Ms. Hikai?” he asks, suddenly bashful again as he rubs the back of his head. “How long have you known Deku?”

Barely glancing up from your paperwork, you hum in thought. “Almost eight years now. We met as second years at UA.” Fondness tugs at you as you think about that time and everyone you’ve met as a result of a single random selection.

Seiji’s head tilts to one side curiously, his brows furrowing slightly. “But you weren’t in the hero department.”

“No, I was in the business department. Top of my class too,” you can’t help but tack on. His eyes widen at the new information. “At the start of our second year, the faculty wanted to create more unity within the student body, so students from each class were paired together for a group project. Midoriya and I just happened to be in the same group.” Your lips quirk upward as you reminisce, and you find yourself telling Seiji more than you meant to. “I already knew who he was, of course. Because of the previous Sport’s Festival and all of the trouble his class was constantly getting into. Though, I definitely wasn’t expecting to end up working at his Hero Agency eventually.”

You’d been working freelance half-way across the country when you got the call from Izuku about the agency he was opening and the offer of a job. You practically had to uproot your entire life at the time, but you would have been an idiot not to.

“Did you ever want to be a Pro Hero?”

Pausing, your eyes narrow as you think it over. “Doesn’t everyone?” you counter, only half-joking. “Honestly though? Not really. I’m happy with my job. I always knew I wanted to work with Heroes, not be one.” Glancing at the clock, you can’t help but sigh when you see the time. With a barely smothered groan, you grab your work phone off your desk and frown when you see the next name on your list.

Dialing the number, you start preparing for a major headache later. 

“Mr. Fujikaze!” you greet as soon as he answers the phone. “This is Yuna Hikai from Deku’s Agency. I was wondering if I could have a word with you?”

“Mr. Fujikaze, I would appreciate it if you didn’t shout at me,” you state calmly despite the irritation threatening to creep into your tone. “I understand that this is short notice, but if you would please listen—”

You’re cut off by a snide retort you don’t bother listening to. Beside you, Seiji blanches, having grown startlingly pale over the duration of your conversation. Almost immediately after giving your name, the conversation took a sour twist. You were expecting it, given your previous experiences with the surly man, but that doesn’t make it any easier to tolerate.

You catch the tail end of some quip about him thinking Deku would hire a “more competent secretary,” and it takes a startling amount of willpower not to hang up on him right there. He knows damn well that you aren’t just some secretary. “Mr. Fujikaze, once again, I understand your frustration, but it’s important that you inform Nightwalker of the upcoming event. As a former Pro Hero, the show of public support would be instrumental towards—”

Another round of spiteful remarks makes you sigh. You’re so engrossed in the man yelling at you over the phone that you don’t hear the ding of the elevator until a loud scoff draws your gaze towards it. Seiji’s head whips around as well, his eyes widening comically as he realizes who’s there.

“You got stupid Deku’s interns doin’ your job now, sweetcheeks?” a familiar, gruff voice teases you. Heat licks up your spine as your eyes lock with ruby ones, a cheeky smirk already spreading across Katsuki’s face. To his right, Shouto shakes his head, but makes no comment when he sees you on the phone.

Ignoring them for the moment, you hold up a single finger to silence Katsuki’s next smartass remark. He grumbles something under his breath that you don’t catch, clearly put out by your easy dismissal.

But like Izuku said, neither one makes a move to head directly into his office, waiting patiently—if you could ever call Katsuki that—for you to finish your phone call.

“Sir, I understand—if you would let me finish—” You purse your lips at the mocking voice that cuts you off again. “Yes, I’m aware that Nightwalker is—” You yank the phone away from your ear as Mr. Fujikaze raises his voice again, this time louder than before. Loud enough for the two Pro Heroes standing across the desk to hear him.

Shouto’s heterochromatic eyes narrow and you swear the temperature drops sharply as he clenches his jaw. He takes a small step forward and you shiver, but before he can say anything, the phone is being ripped out of your hand.

“Bakugou!” you snap, glaring up at him in exasperation.

“Oi, dickhead!” Katsuki barks into the phone, taking a step back before you can grab your phone again. Your gaze cuts to Shouto for help, but he pretends not to notice, doing absolutely nothing to stop his companion’s irritated tirade. “Don’t fuckin’ yell at her just because she’s better at her fuckin’ job than you! And you work for a Pro? Fuckin’ pathetic.” 

Fujikaze’s stuttered response is cut off with a click.

“Bastard,” Katsuki practically snarls, glaring down at the now silent phone like he’s thinking about exploding it into tiny pieces.

Utterly unimpressed, you roll your eyes and hold out your hand for your phone, fingers wiggling impatiently until Katsuki huffs and drops the device onto your waiting palm. “As eloquent and to the point as always, Bakugou. And how many times have I told you to stop with the pet-names while I’m working? This is a professional setting, you know.”

He snorts and crosses his arms. “Bastard had it comin’, sweetcheeks,” he says, blatantly ignoring you. Asshole.

“You realize I’ll just have to call him back and apologize for that, right?” you ask, one eyebrow quirking slightly. A hint of amusement curls at your lips despite everything, and a familiar, pleasant warmth floods through you as he stares just a little too long.

“Whatever,” Katsuki grumbles, looking far too pleased with himself for telling someone off.

Instead of arguing with him further, you turn to his quieter companion. Your smile only widens when you find him already staring back. Shouto’s mouth curves up slightly at the edges and he nods, casually slipping a hand into the pocket of his dark jacket—which looks sinfully good on him. Neither of them have any business looking that good in casual wear, you think, trying not to stare at the collarbones revealed by Shouto’s plain v-neck or the biceps Katsuki has on display.

If you didn’t know better, you’d think they were doing it on purpose.

“Hikai.” It’s a simple greeting, more formal than Katsuki’s because you’re both working, but there’s something overwhelmingly soft about the way he says it. You’ve always liked the way your name sounds on his lips.

“Todoroki,” you say in return, the ghost of a smile flickering across your lips as you tease him. “How many times will I have to tell you to call me Yuna?”

Mirth flickers in those blue and gray eyes. “At least one more.”

Katsuki snorts, but by the time your eyes flicker back to him, he’s already frowning down at the nervous child seated beside you. “Who the hell are you?” he asks bluntly, as if he’s already forgotten that Seiji is Izuku’s intern who you’re positive that either you or Izuku have mentioned to the grouchy blond before.

You don’t notice the look that Shouto sends Katsuki.

“Don’t be rude, Bakugou,” you chastise, clicking your tongue at him. He doesn’t even pretend to look apologetic.

Luckily, Seiji doesn’t seem discouraged by the attitude. He practically scrambles out of his chair after the Ground Zero addresses him, nearly dropping the files he was going through before the two Pros stepped in. “I’m Seiji Nakamura, Mr. Ground Zero, sir!” he sputters out, reaching across the desk with one hand for Katsuki to shake. “It’s nice to meet you!”

You smother a laugh at Katsuki’s bewildered reaction to Seiji’s excitement, the high-schooler rambling slightly as he gushes about both Pro Heroes, much to your amusement.

Shouto cuts Seiji off gently. “Sunspot, correct?” At the wide-eyed look and quick nod from the teenager, Shouto hums in thought. “You did well at the Sports Festival,” he says. “It’s unsurprising that Midoriya took you as an intern.”

“You too,” Seiji says stupidly. A look of horror spreads across his face. “No, wait, I didn’t—I mean—obviously, you did well in the Sports Festivals a few years ago, Mr. Shouto. And I’m sure that Mr. Deku would have taken you on as an intern as well, but—”

He’s out of breath, and his face is starting to turn a rather dashing shade of scarlet by the time you place your hands on his shoulders, gently guiding him back onto his chair. You haven’t seen him this much of a jumbled mess of nerves since the day he first met Izuku. At least then the two of them were able to gush about each other. 

“Deep breaths, Nakamura,” you murmur in Seiji’s ear, giving his arm a quick squeeze.

“Right,” he chokes out. He glances up at the amused pros and grabs another stack of reports, quickly burying his face in them to hide his flushed cheeks.

Yeah, he’s definitely Deku’s intern. While Shouto looks almost fond of Seiji’s Izuku-like ramblings, there’s a glint in Katsuki’s eyes that has your hands immediately going to your hips. “Don’t even think about it, Bakugou,” you warn him. “I won’t hesitate to kick your ass.” You know that look. And you’re not going to let him make fun of some poor kid.

He scoffs loudly at the threat. “Like you could.” He looks you up and down slowly, a cocky smirk on his face, and you shudder at the way those red eyes drag across your form shamelessly.

“Wanna bet?” you challenge teasingly, silently glad that your heels are giving you just a little extra height right now. “You scared, Ground Zero?” you continue when he chuckles under his breath.

Katsuki braces his arms against the top of your desk and leans forward until he’s in your face. “I’d like to see you try, short stuff,” he says, low and a little husky, and for a second, you think your brain might short-circuit. 

Forcing your gaze away from Katsuki’s teasing one, your eyes end up finding Shouto. He’s standing a little straighter than before, dual-colored brows furrowed as he stares at Katsuki with a flicker of irritation that disappears as soon as he feels your gaze on him. Those icy eyes flicker to you, unintentionally pinning you in place. Your breath catches.

Clearing your throat, you pull away from the magnetizing gaze as white hot electricity buzzes through you. “Midoriya is ready whenever you’d like to go in,” you inform them, hoping your voice sounds even. “He knew you were coming, so you shouldn’t need to knock.” With that, you reach for your phone again, debating if you should call back Fujikaze now or wait until he’s possibly calmed down.

Katsuki doesn’t let you get far. “Some assistant you are,” he drawls almost lazily, slipping a hand into his pocket. “Not even gonna let him know we’re here?”

From the corner of your eye, you see Seiji watching the three of you intently, his blue eyes jumping rapidly from you to Katsuki to Shouto in fascination. There’s a quip about Katsuki just wanting to stare at your ass on the tip of your tongue, but you bite it back, not wanting to taint the poor intern’s virgin ears. Besides, you have to remain at least somewhat professional, even if these are your friends.

You glare at Katsuki as you shift out from around the desk. Your heels click against the tile floor as you walk towards Izuku’s office. Behind you, their steps are quieter, muffled, but still recognizable. Katsuki’s self-satisfied smirk is something you can practically feel against your back.

Knocking twice on the door before opening it, you pop your head in just in time to see Izuku gazing almost wistfully at an All Might action figure before he flushes and quickly shoves it back into the top drawer of his desk. You’re sure the amusement shows on your face when you tell him, “Ground Zero and Shouto are here to see you, Deku.”

His eyes light up when he sees the men standing behind you. “Kacchan! Todoroki!”

“What did I tell you about calling me that? Fuckin’, Deku,” Katsuki grumbles as you step out of the way to let him through. He’s glaring at Izuku half-heartedly, much to Izuku’s amusement, and you roll your eyes as you twist on your heel to return to your desk while the longtime rivals start to argue playfully.

You gasp as you nearly crash into Shouto’s chest, the Hero closer than you thought. A big hand reaches out to steady you as you wobble on your heels, his palm gripping your waist in a firm, yet gentle, hold. His touch is hot even through your dress, and you inhale sharply at the deliciously warm contact.

“Careful now,” he murmurs, voice deeper than usual. Izuku and Katsuki’s bickering seems muffled by the quiet lull of his voice. Humor flickers in Shouto’s eyes and, very carefully, he shifts you so that you’re almost blocked from looking into Izuku’s office. “You wouldn’t want to fall.”

It takes a second too long for you to find your voice. “You’re right,” you say a little breathlessly. He’s so close that you can smell his cologne, light and fresh, though you can’t quite figure out what it is. “Bakugou would never let me live it down.”

He doesn’t laugh, but you’ve known him long enough to recognize the amusement in his eyes. Slowly, and so gently that you almost don’t notice, his grip tightens on your waist.

“Oi, hurry the fuck up, Icy Hot!” Katsuki barks when Shouto hesitates too long in the doorway.

As usual, Shouto ignores him, still staring down at you with a look in his eyes that makes you shiver. The tip of his pinky brushes against your hip and you find yourself leaning into the gentle heat. His eyes rip away from yours as he clears his throat. Shouto glances behind you suddenly, and you follow his gaze to the intern still sitting behind your desk, awestruck and grinning like an idiot. You place a delicate hand on his bicep, drawing his attention away from the giddy teenager with a soft squeeze. “Something wrong, Shouto?”

His gaze snaps back to you as quickly as it left, and those mismatched eyes almost steal your breath as they jump between your own eyes and the fingers curled around his upper arm. Swallowing, he glances at Seiji once again.

When he does speak, his voice is low. Shouto’s breath tickles the shell of your ear, and you can hear the nearly imperceptible tinge of humor. “Is that Midoriya’s secret love child, or something?”

Barely smothering a giggle, you shove him towards Izuku’s office as you shake your head. His lips twitch into a barely there smile.

“Yuna,” he calls you back before you can slip away, the sound of your name on his tongue making heat curl through you. Shouto is as shameless as Katsuki in the way his eyes drag down your body, taking in every inch of you like he wants to commit everything to memory, and you can practically feel the path his eyes take like it’s a physical touch. By the time his eyes find yours again, your chest is tight with something you don’t want to put a name to. “You look beautiful today,” he tells you in a voice barely above a whisper.

Only then, does he let you go. Shouto’s hand falls back to his side, but the heat from his palm is still burning into your side, like fire left in his wake. Your hand slips from his arm just as slowly, trailing down the length of his arm so that your fingers brush before you let him go.

Shouto looks like he wants to say something else, but he shakes his head and offers you a small smile and a nod before stepping into Izuku’s office and walking over to his friends.

You close the door behind you, a shaky sound leaving you as you lean back against the solid surface. 

Seiji is staring at you with wide eyes, his mouth open in a small “o”. When he realizes he’s been caught, he yelps and grabs the nearest file on the desk, opening it to a random page.

“Something wrong?” you ask.

“Nope!”

The rest of the day was a blur. Before you knew it, your paperwork was done, and it was time for you to leave, though you stayed to chat with Izuku a moment before leaving. His smile was tight all afternoon after Shouto and Katsuki left, and it stayed that way until the moment you stepped out the door. 

You could hear the yelling earlier, mostly from Katsuki, of course, but you were surprised to hear a harsh edge to Shouto’s voice as he responded, even if you couldn’t make out what they were saying. At that point, you sent Seiji home, and the meeting between the three Heroes ended soon after, much earlier than usual.

Katsuki stormed out first, cursing under his breath and stomping towards the elevator. He barely spared you a glance as he left, but for a second, you thought his gaze softened when he saw you. Shouto was quieter as he left, a tightness around his eyes, but he nodded at you before disappearing after Katsuki.

Izuku didn’t mention whatever argument they must have had, and you didn’t press. It was none of your business.

You’re barely out of the office before your phone is ringing with the obnoxious tone that you reserve for one person. Fishing your phone from your purse, you’re quick to accept the call without a second thought. “Hello, Mina,” you greet the bubbly woman calmly as you cross the street.

“What are you wearing right now?” she asks, ignoring your greeting entirely. 

A bemused frown slips onto your face, and you sigh. “Mina…” you trail off with a shake of your head. A small part of you wants to ask why she’s curious, but a larger part says it’s better not to question it. Mina has always been a little eccentric, which is something you’ve always loved about her, but sometimes it can be exhausting.

She giggles. You can practically picture the grin on her face. “I bet it’s something sexy,” she teases. “You aren’t wearing anything naughty, are you?”

“I just got off work,” you remind her, assuming that’s why she chose to call now. “What do you think I’m wearing?” Absently, you glance down at the plum colored dress you’re wearing: form-fitting and pretty, but still professional. Izuku isn’t strict when it comes to dress codes, but you have more than just your own image to worry about.

She scoffs. “I’ve seen your office clothes. It’s definitely something sexy. Not that I’m complaining, of course.” You hear the tell-tale sound of Mina flopping dramatically onto the nearest piece of furniture and roll your eyes. She sighs loudly. “Midoriya sure is lucky to get to see your pretty face every day.” 

Your lips quirk into a smile without your permission. “Is there something you want or are you just trying to proposition me?”

“I mean if you want to…” she trails off suggestively.

A snort escapes you. “I don’t think Kirishima would like that very much,” you say, reminding her of her longtime boyfriend. The two have been dating since their third year at UA and are disgustingly cute together. Besides, you’d hate to be a homewrecker.

“He doesn’t have to know.” Mina giggles, only to stop abruptly with a gasp. “Oh! Better yet, maybe he could—”

You cut her off before she can finish the thought. “I’m hanging up now.” 

It’s an empty threat, but Mina reacts immediately.

“No!” she whines, dragging out the word as long as she can. “I’ll behave!” Her try at sincerity is offset by the torrent of giggles she’s unable to smother, and you find yourself grinning as well. “Yaomomo wanted me to call and make sure you’re still on for tonight at her place. We know you’ve been busy with work and the charity event you’re planning for Midoriya, so if you can’t make it tonight, we totally understand, girl.” She pauses. “But if you cancel, Ochako and I are going to break into your apartment and kidnap you anyway.”

“That’s not very heroic of you, Pinky. Eraserhead would be so disappointed.” Frankly, you’re surprised Mina’s class didn’t send him into early retirement. “What was the plan for tonight again?”

“Movies, wine, and talking about boys. The usual.”

Perfect. That’s exactly what you need after… whatever it is that happened today. “You know what? That sounds great right now.” 

Mina squeals. “Yay! Great! I’ll let Yaomomo know right away. What time do you think you’ll be over?”

You hum as you head for the train, trying to estimate the time. “Probably an hour? I have to drop off some files at home and change, but that should be it.”

“Perfect. Tsu got held up with Sirius—you know, wedding planning and all—and Toru has a date tonight, so it’ll just be the five of us.”

You grin. “I’ll bring the wine.”

It’s a few hours later when you find yourself squished onto a couch with Ochako and Kyouka, pleasantly tipsy as you listen to Mina dramatically recount the events of her recent date with Kirishima that somehow involved a one-hundred-and-twenty count pack of crayola crayons, an elderly chihuahua, and a leopard-print shower curtain—you’re a little afraid to ask the logistics of it all—when your phone vibrates in your pocket for what must be the fifth time tonight. 

Finally resigning yourself to check your messages, you wiggle just enough to fish your phone out from under you as the conversation shifts to Toru’s date for the night. The newest message makes you smile immediately, a simple text from Izuku telling you to have fun tonight with too many emojis and exclamation points that you know the rest of the girls must have gotten, too. There’s also one from Iida reminding you to drink responsibly that has your eyes rolling, but it’s the last two notifications that make you freeze.

Shouto and Katsuki’s names make your stupid heart flutter on sight. The messages are virtually the same: have fun, be safe, and call if you’ll need a ride home after. You choke up as you glance over the texts again, your entire chest feeling uncomfortably tight, like there’s a sudden weight curling around your ribcage and squeezing. You blame the wine. The texts are nothing out of the ordinary. You’ve accepted rides from both of them before so tonight shouldn’t be any different.

But it is, a small part of you says. It’s different for you. But you’ve known them both too long to fuck up a perfectly good thing.

“What about you, babe?” Ochako leans over Kyouka to poke your arm, jolting you back to the conversation. “Any men in your life we should know about?”

With that thought in mind and the welcome distraction, you turn off your phone and shove it back into your pocket without responding, even though you know it’ll just make them worry. “Hardly. You know I don’t have time to date right now.” It’s not exactly a lie with how busy you’ve been, but it’s certainly not the main reason. “Besides, I’m not interested in anyone,” you continue.

Kyouka’s expression is sly when she glances at you over the rim of her drink. “That’s not what I heard from Denki. Apparently he saw some pretty interesting things last week. A lunch date, perhaps?”

“Kaminari is full of shit,” you remind her. Already you can feel a flush creeping down your neck. You didn’t know anyone saw you and Shouto. Not that it’s a big deal. Just two friends grabbing lunch. Nothing else.

On the other couch, Mina sits up with a loud gasp. “Wait, which one are we talking about? Bakugou or Todoroki? You’re such a player, Yuna!”

“Todoroki,” Kyouka says before you can protest. “But you’re right, Mina, Bakugou definitely likes her too.”

You roll your eyes. “He does not.”

Ochako leans forward to look at you, shaking her head. “Izuku seems to think Bakugou genuinely likes you.” Her smile widens mischievously. “Apparently, he’s very honest when he’s drunk.”

“Eiji told me the same thing,” Mina chimes in.

“Bakugou wants to fuck me, there’s a difference.” You only sound a little bit bitter when you say it, and the girls see right through you.

“I mean, you aren’t wrong,” Kyouka agrees begrudgingly, looking at you out of the corner of her eyes, “but he definitely likes you more than that. If you two just wanted to screw, I’m sure you would have done it by now.”

You make a face at that but can’t disagree as you reach for your wine glass, downing most of it because you’re definitely going to need it. A part of you hates that she’s right. You certainly could have had some hot, casual sex with Katsuki in the past. He’s never been shy about flirting with you, even if he used to be a hell of a lot worse at it, and you’ve never done a thing to deter him, but one or both of you have always backed off before it can get any further than that, unwilling to risk it. Katsuki is hot, sure, but not hot enough for you to sleep with your friend if it won’t go anywhere.

A low hum from across the room catches your attention. Your gaze flicks to Momo, who’s been quiet so far. There’s a contemplative look on her face, her eyes narrowed in deep thought and her lips set into a firm line. “As does Todoroki,” she says eventually. “We’ve all seen the way he looks at her.” Momo doesn’t elaborate at all, but Ochaoko, Mina, and Kyouka all nod like they know exactly what she means.

Mina looks at Ochako. “Didn’t Midoriya say they hugged today?” she asks, like you’re not sitting right there across from her. “Right there in front of his office? In front of his intern?” She glances at you then, mockingly scandalized. “I didn’t think you had it in you.”

“It wasn’t a hug,” you argue immediately. “It was…” you trail off awkwardly, trying to find the right word, but nothing better comes to mind. You can’t exactly explain what happened without making it sound like he cradled you in his arms while you felt up his biceps. “It wasn’t a hug,” you repeat as you cross your arms, pointedly not looking at any of them.

“Aww, you’re blushing!”

“Why am I not surprised?”

“So, which one would you rather see naked?”

That last one makes you nearly choke on your drink. “Mina!” Your wide-eyed look makes her cackle. She throws her hands up defensively at your glare. Kyouka and Ochako are already snickering at your expense, and you glare at them too. At least Momo has the decency to look scandalized by the unprovoked attack. Some friends you have.

“It’s a fair question!” Mina tucks her feet beneath her, cups her chin, and pretends to think, weighing her options. “Personally, I think I’d rather see—”

You groan. “Please stop talking.”

Kyouka shakes her head as she pulls her phone out of her pocket, glancing over a text quickly. “What would poor Kirishima say if he heard you thirsting over his friends like this?”

Mina shrugs. “He’d probably talk about their manly physiques.”

“Shit, you’re right. You got me there.” Kyouka sighs and sends a text before sliding her phone back into her pocket. She stands up suddenly, stretching her arms over her head and looking a little more flushed than she was a minute ago. “I’ll be back. Denki wants attention.” Carefully, she maneuvers around your legs, heading for the hallway. 

“Don’t have phone sex in the bathroom again,” you call after her.

She flips you the bird.

Momo stands as well. “And I should go check on the brownies.” For a second, you swear she looks pointedly at Ochako, but then she smiles and claps her hands together and the moment is gone. Momo glances at her seat companion. “Mina, would you accompany me to the kitchen?”

“What? But I—”

“Shut it, Pinky,” Kyouka snaps from out in the hallway. 

Mina pouts but allows Momo to pull her out of the living room and across the hall, the pair speaking in hushed whispers.

The sudden silence is heavier than normal. You glance across the couch to where Ochako is still sitting.

Ochako tucks her legs beneath her and looks at you from the other end of the couch. Her eyes are narrowed and there’s an unfamiliar pensive look on her face as she looks you up and down. You meet her stare with one of your own and cross your arms, daring her to say what’s on her mind now that the two of you are alone.

Never one to back down from a challenge, Ochako clears her throat. “You know,” she starts in a slow drawl, “Izuku told me something interesting today.” When you groan, a grin splits across her face, making her look very much like the cat that got the cream.

“Please, don’t,” you beg, downing the rest of your drink. You glance over your shoulder with a wince, suddenly glad that the other girls are gone.

Ochako continues as if you didn’t speak. “He said Bakugou and Todoroki have been having a…” she trails off, searching for the right word, “disagreement, so to speak. Apparently, things were a little tense during their meeting today.” Her mischievous smile disappears. “They’ve both been flirting with you for ages, you know. You can’t say you haven’t noticed either. Neither of them are exactly subtle about it.”

“I know.” You sigh and rake your fingers through your loose hair, fiddling with the rim of your empty glass with your free hand. Your own expression sobers and suddenly you wish you had another shot in front of you. “What am I supposed to do, Ochako?” you ask so softly she can barely hear you. “I don’t want to lead either of them on, but…”

You clam up before you can finish, already knowing how ridiculous you’ll sound once you say it out loud. It’s not something you’ve ever admitted to any of the girls, despite how often they tease you about the two powerhouses from their class.

“But?” Ochako prods gently, like she knows exactly what’s on your mind.

Another sigh. You set your glass down on the coffee table and curl your legs towards your chest, absentmindedly fiddling with the sleeve of your sweater. “I like both of them,” you say bluntly, grimacing as the words spill out. “I really do. And I know that makes me sound like some indecisive teenager going through an angsty phase—and I’m not going to sit here and whine and wax poetic about them, but they’re both great guys. You know that. They’re both intelligent and funny in their own ways. They’re great Heroes. Bakugou is… well, he’s Bakugou, but he’s charming in his own way. Todoroki is the same way. And, I mean, I’m not fucking blind, you know? They’re ridiculously hot, and it’s kind of unfair.” You finally force yourself to look at Ochako who looks caught between sympathetic and amused. “I’d be lucky to date either one of them.”

She reaches out to pat your arm, her lips quirking upward. “I think they’d be pretty lucky to date you too. You’re pretty hot yourself.”

You laugh in disbelief. “Thanks.”

Ochako shuffles closer to you, taking Kyouka’s abandoned spot and pressing her shoulder against yours. “So, what do you want to do? You know we’ll all support you either way, right?” 

The reassurance brings a small smile to your face, and you nod before dropping your head to rest on her shoulder. “I mean, I was just planning on eating ice cream, crying, and avoiding making life altering decisions for as long as possible.”

“Yuna!” Ochako giggles and shoves you off her shoulder. When you whine, she sends you a mock disapproving look. “Be serious!”

You smother a groan, wanting nothing more than to shove your face into the couch cushions and avoid this conversation entirely. “What do you want me to say, Ochako? That I’d like to let both of them have their way with me?”

An excited squeal from behind you makes you flinch in your seat. With wide eyes, you whip around on the couch. Horror shoots through you as your eyes lock on an ecstatic Mina, Momo and Kyouka hovering in the living room entrance behind her. 

“I fucking knew it!” Mina gasps, clapping her hands together and practically jumping up and down.

You sigh and drop your head back onto Ochako’s shoulder. “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” you murmur.

She pats the top of your head gently.

Mina skips around the edge of the couch and flops down dramatically, already whipping out her phone as Momo and Kyouka settle onto the other sofa across from you, small, matching smiles on their faces. They’ve never teased you as openly as Mina or Ochako, but just because they haven’t said it out loud doesn’t mean they haven’t thought it.

“You’re being dramatic, Mina,” Kyouka says, folding her arms behind her head on the back of the couch. “It’s not like she was very good at hiding it.” She smirks at you, and you flip her the bird, making Ochako giggle.

Momo remains silent but has to politely cover her mouth with her hand to hide a smile.

Mina waves Kyouka off with a flick of her wrist. “Eijirou owes me twenty,” she tells all of you excitedly. Wiggling in her seat, she pulls her phone out of her pocket, excitedly beginning to type.

You lurch away from Ochako with a horrified gasp. “You are not telling Kirishima about this!” Mortified, you nearly lunge across Ochako’s lap to slap the cellphone out of Mina’s hands, to which she whines loudly. Mina pouts but makes no attempt to grab her phone off the floor.

The glare you send her is half-hearted; her smile comes back full force.

“So, when you say you want them to have their way with you, are we talking separately, or, like, at the same time? Because, to be honest, that’s totally a sandwich I wouldn’t mind getting between.”

Ochako snorts, Kyouka rolls her eyes, and Momo looks particularly scandalized at Mina’s comment.

“I’m too sober for this,” you murmur, shifting on the couch so that you can toss your legs over Ochako’s lap. Blindly, you grope for one of Momo’s throw pillows on the floor. Maybe it’s not too late to smother yourself with it. Frankly, you’d take death over the turn this conversation is taking. You’re loath to admit how much you agree with Mina on the whole sandwich thing—and you know what, maybe you have had enough to drink tonight.

The thought must be clear on your flushed face because Kyouka sends you a knowing look. “Definitely at the same time,” she says.

This time you go through with the smothering plan. The poor pillow is crushed against your face, muffling your words when you ask, “Why am I friends with any of you?” Obviously, you know the answer. These ladies have been with you for the better part of your young adult life, and you wouldn’t trade any of them for the world, but sometimes you really want to strangle them with your bare hands.

Ochako pulls the pillow away from your face and tosses it aside with a smile, making you pout.

“Bitch, you love us,” Mina jokes, throwing you a playful wink.

Kyouka leans forward, resting her chin against her palm. “Besides, who else would put up with your dramatic ass?”

“Kyouka,” Momo chides despite her growing smile.

Ochako giggles and reaches out to poke your cheek. “We do it because we love you.”

Still pouting, you sigh. “I know.” Despite their teasing, you know they only want the best for you, and you appreciate that more than you’d ever be able to put into words. “You guys are the worst. I love you, too.”

“So…” Mina trails off purposefully, pretending to be engrossed with something on her phone—probably Kirishima. “You never answered the question, my dear.”

“Which question is that?” Right now you’re desperately hoping that playing dumb will work. As much as you’d like to continue dissecting your love life—or lack thereof—you can think of at least a dozen things you’d rather be doing. And that short list includes letting Mineta suck on your toes.

“Personally, I’d like an answer to which one you’d rather see naked, but admitting you want to have a threesome with two of the sexiest Pro Heroes of our generation is also acceptable.”

One of your eyebrows quirks upward. “Just of our generation?”

“Aizawa is a fox.” The other girls protest in varying degrees of disgust and Mina crosses her arms. “Why are you booing me, I’m right!”

You bite back a smile as Kyouka pretends to gag. “I have to agree with Mina on that one,” you confess, only half joking. You turn to said girl. “Tell us more about your hot fantasies about Eraserhead.”

“Hey now,” Mina jabs a finger in your direction. “Don’t think you can wiggle out of this one that easily, missy. You’re not distracting me this time. I demand answers about your little love triangle.”

“If I play dumb a little longer will you drop it?”

Mina bats her eyelashes. “Not a chance.”

Suddenly, your mood sobers more than you were expecting. Maybe it’s the wine finally getting to you, or the text messages you’ve been ignoring, or the way that as soon as Shouto and Katsuki stepped into your office today you felt an undeniable warmth flood through you. Just seeing them made everything feel just a little bit better. And now that the girls have started to pry into those feelings, you don’t know if there’s any going back for you. No more ignoring that little feeling in your chest until it goes away.

“Can we please not talk about this tonight?” you ask. The question comes out far softer than you meant it to, and the other girls frown when they see the expression on your face. You can only imagine how pathetic you must look right now.

They exchange a few looks before four pairs of eyes settle back on you, a mix of thoughtful and reassuring.

“Yuna,” Momo calls your name gently, idly playing with her fingers in her lap. She waits for you to look up before she continues. “I’m sure we already know the answer, but…” Another pause. “Do they both make you happy?” The look in your eyes gives you away, and she nods slowly, pondering something else. “In that case, could you be happy with both of them?” A faint blush creeps across Momo’s cheeks but she doesn’t break eye contact with you.

Your frown only deepens. “Momo, what are you—oh.” It hits you a moment too late, and you blink at her stupidly. “Oh!” For a second, you think your entire body is about to combust, and Ochako reaches over to pat your hand as your mouth moves soundlessly.

Kyouka isn’t quite as tactful. “She’s saying just date both of them, you loser.”

You point a finger in her direction. “First of all: rude and uncalled for.” She rolls her eyes. “And I don’t think it’s that simple, Kyouka.” In theory it might be the easiest solution, but already you can think of at least fifty different things that could go horribly wrong if you were to ever bring that up in conversation. Having worked with Heroes for the last three years, you know how the media likes to gossip, and you’re sure they’d have a field day over the Heroes Ground Zero and Shouto being in relationships, let alone with the same person. 

Kyouka doesn’t seem to agree. “It is if you want it to be.”

“Are you saying you have experience with this kind of thing?” Ochako asks, brow furrowing.

“Hell no. You think I could handle two of Denki?”

“Seriously though.” Mina reaches out and grabs your ankle, tugging to get your attention. Her grin is blinding. “Girl, think about the sex. The stamina! Let me tell you, if I didn’t have Eiji—”

You tug your ankle out of her grasp. “You think about my sex life way too much, Mina,” you inform the bubbly girl. She’s certainly not wrong, but you’re not going to be the one to tell her that. Between you, Ochako is biting her lip like she’s trying not to laugh, and you jab a finger into her side, making her yelp. “But fine. I’ll bite. Hypothetically, if I did just… date both of them, don’t you think that would be a disaster?” you ask, glancing at the rest of them. “This is Katsuki and Shouto we’re talking about. They don’t exactly play well with others, let alone each other.”

Nevermind that the two have been friends since high school, there’s still very much some weird friendly rivalry going on between the two of them. The last thing anyone needs is for it to become decisively less friendly. 

“You won’t know unless you try,” Momo offers encouragingly, ever the pragmatic one. 

Ochako nods. “Yeah! What’s the worst that could happen?”

“I’m left heartbroken, alone with fifty cats, and branded a harlot on national television if anyone finds out,” you say, completely deadpan. So you’re dramatic, it happens. “Oh, I could also lose my job.” That’s probably less likely than the others. You’re pretty sure Izuku would cry if he had to fire you.

Mina scoffs loudly. “Oh, please, we would never let you get that many cats!”

“Besides,” Ochako says, beaming down at you and clapping her hands together, “you’ve got us! We’ll support you through all of your bad decisions, no matter what!”

Kyouka and Momo nod encouragingly, both wearing small smiles.

The conversation keeps buzzing through your mind, and you take your bottom lip between your teeth. Your thoughts stray to the unanswered texts in your back pocket and Katsuki’s crooked smile and the heat of Shouto’s palm sinking into your side.

With another sigh, you lean into Ochako and allow her to wrap her arm around your shoulders. “I know,” you murmur against her shoulder as she strokes your hair. “I’ll think about it.”

[malsmanor]

The Earthquake [Phantom Manor one-shot]

Little one-shot about what is easily my favorite (yes, I am veeery morbid :3) part of Phantom Manor’s story. The immediate aftermath of the Earthquake that struck Thunder Mesa in 1860, featuring my own take on the characters. Enjoy, be aware that this is a translation from my native language and beware of the following trigger warnings:

- Death (I mean, why else be in this fandom to begin with :V) - blood - moderately descriptive gore - natural disaster.

Enjoy :P

Mélanie knew her worst fears had come true the very instant she was greeted at the door by Anna's chalk white face. The maid's gloved hand tugged at her young mistress’ dress in a feeble attempt at stopping her but Mélanie stormed into the corridor, leaving the trembling servant at the entrance.

Jake followed, his eyes darting around in the shadowy hall now cluttered with smashed pottery, broken portrait frames on the floor and toppled over furniture. The earthquake had been so devastating it was as if the entire house was now leaning on its side like a dying animal. The walls were skewed, the floorboards bent and wind busted through the shattered window panes, filling the once sumptuous manor with the smell of rain and thunder. Black clouds swirled above the red rocky spires of Thunder Mountain and Thunder Mesa was shrouded in a silence so absolute it almost felt supernatural.

Following the bright yellow hem of Mélanie’s dress as she ran through the gutted rooms of the place she called her home, Jake felt a sudden ache in his chest. He had never felt at ease in the manor, to him that richly decorated abode was as hostile and unwelcoming as its occupants, with its poisonous green wallpaper and the velvet-lined armchairs that seemed to have eyes and mouths stitched right where your back was supposed to rest… and yet, in seeing it turned upside down like a dollhouse after a particularly intense playtime session made his heart heavy. He couldn’t even imagine what thoughts crossed Mélanie’s mind in that moment. It wasn’t only the house that was damaged beyond repair, and they both knew it.

They reached the balcony above the ballroom and Mélanie clasped her hands on the railing, struggling not to break down crying. 

The ceiling had collapsed, or at least a good chunk of it had.

The chandelier laid smashed on the dinner table that had practically snapped in two under its weight and piles of rubble and wooden beams cluttered the staircase and dance floor. 

Covered in dust and splinters from head to toe, Jasper was digging in the dirt like a madman, too frantic to pay heed to his injured and bloodied hands as he called his masters’ names over and over.

As Mélanie and Jake got to the lower floor, the butler was trying to push aside a massive wooden panel and once the young man rushed in to help, it finally budged. Jake had never seen Mr.Jones so discomposed and overwrought. His usual condescending grin and impeccably tied neck scarf had been replaced by a look of pure anguish. 

The Ravenswoods may have been a shady and unapproachable bunch, but the butler’s face was not that of an employee whose only concern is to find another pair of equally rich patrons to work for now that God’s judgement had smitten his previous cruel masters, but that of a devastated friend of the family.

Mélanie watched the two men work in silence, too overwhelmed to move or even cry.

Her parents were dead.

She didn’t have to see their bodies to know this, and yet she clung till the very last to the unlikely possibility that they may have somehow survived.

As if to rob her of that sliver of hope, Thunder roared in the distance as bright blue lightning cracked the sky framed by the two tall windows. The curse was real, and it had struck. Rapid and merciless as only the raw force of nature could have done. Henry and Martha Ravenswood were no more, crushed by the weight of their greed, the very walls and wooden sculptures of the manor they cherished so dearly even though it was built on the sufferance and tears of others, on a foundation of lies and murder.

Yes, Mélanie did know of her father’s actions at that point. The shocking revelation was  actually still fresh in her mind and so was the horrifying realization of having been the cause of so much senseless bloodshed… but she loved her parents dearly and unconditionally, as many children do.

Only then, at the revolting acknowledgment of her own hypocrisy, a warm stream of tears began to roll down her rosy cheeks as Jake and Jasper removed the last layer of wood and plaster, uncovering the bodies of the Ravenswood spouses.

As if staged with the specific intent of making Mélanie forget why she wanted to escape their controlling grasp and ran as far away as she could from that cursed house, man and wife laid next to each other, Henry’s caped shoulders shielding Martha from the debris as if he wanted to kept what was precious to him safe and close until his very last breath. And alas, the age-old question had to be asked: was that an excessive display of love or of pure greed?

At that sight, Mélanie fell to her knees, now sobbing uncontrollably and before Jake or Jasper could offer her any comfort, the young woman felt Anna Jones’ arms wrapping around her and immediately threw herself on the chambermaid’s lap just like a scared child would.

Anna caressed her hair, reassuring the last of the Ravenswoods that everything was going to be alright as she raised her gaze to met the equally distraught eyes of her brother. Jasper gave her a knowingly nod and removed his dirty overcoat, used its lustrous purple fabric to wipe off the blood from his hands covered in cuts and bruises and threw it into the unlit fireplace. He then accosted the windows and pulled down the embroidered curtains with a snap, folding them on his arms.

“Care to lend a hand, young man?” he asked, his voice still hoarse after all the digging. Jasper was naturally gaunt and unpleasant-looking even on a regular day, with his discolored blond hair and sunken pitch black eyes but in that moment he looked particularly pitiable so, Jake nodded even though a shiver had just ran down his spine.

He knew what the butler intended to do with those drapes: makeshift shrouds for the masters of the house, until proper burial service could be arranged. 

“Even though you’re probably the last person in the whole world the Master would want in his home right now, I can’t afford to be picky.” added the manservant with a sly grin, regaining some of his usual spitefulness. 

Jake didn’t reply, rolling up his sleeves as Jasper handed him one of the curtains. He’d do it for Mélanie and nobody else. She was worth the hassle of handling the cold dead body of someone who wanted to see him out of the picture. A girl like her was worth that and so much more, perhaps even worth dying for.

Butler and train engineer knelt down next to the two entangled bodies in the rubble and both felt horribly out of place for a split second, as if they were about to interrupt what seemed like a sweet, even intimate, moment. 

Mrs. Ravenswood looked like she was peacefully asleep, with no dust on her red hair and face nor any visible injuries. She was still surprisingly attractive for a woman her age and Mélanie had undoubtedly inherited her looks even though her curly auburn hair originated from Mr.Ravenswood’s side of the family.

Unlike his wife’s, Henry’s body had not been left unscathed by the collapse of the roof. His right elbow was caked in blood as the jagged bone protruded out of a tear in the sleeve and his back was stained with red, probably dripping down from the violent blow to the back of his head that had killed him instantly.

As Jasper and Jake turned the corpse over to separate it from Martha’s, they were greeted by the chilling and unwelcome sight of Henry’s still wide open bloodshot eyes. Jake couldn’t help but quiver, as he tried to call upon logic and attribute what he thought he was seeing to a trick of the light or the disquieting metamorphosis that any face goes through when death comes, as the tendons spasm and the muscles distend…

And yet he couldn’t shake off the thought that Henry Ravenswood was grinning.

[blissfulalchemist]

"Sometimes I think you have a deathwish." for Wes & Dad!Lance

Kate you are right in having me write Lance more because we can all use more of him in our lives. :’) Please enjoy your disaster son with his new father figure.

Being forty-nine didn’t always come with a ton of benefits, but being set in your ways in regards to how you listened to music was one of them. The cult trucks only ever had tape players, making it harder to listen to anything but the hymns on the radio. Thankfully Lance lived in the era of making mixtapes and he rarely threw any out. Today’s choice was a mix of seventies rock mixed with a few British punk songs, a gift from his half brother when they were friends, and perfect for the long drive back to the valley. He hated being called away by Jacob for refresh training, just another excuse to see how well his conditioning was holding up, and Lance’s hadn’t been in recent months. While it made it harder to hide it had become all the better to help those that left. 

Lance had never wanted to get involved this much, but when Cat had set her mind to helping Rafael with his mission, he had to make sure she’d be safe. It was taking a lot of effort for Lance to not get attached to the young men, bad enough he cared so much for Catlina, though he excused it as her being so close in age to his own daughter, he just didn’t need anymore trouble and one of them provided that more than should be normal. Lance sighed as he slowed to take a sharp curve in the road, something reflective hitting his eyes. 

He pulled over to the side of the road, needing a moment to readjust his eyes and make sure he didn’t just see what he saw on the side of the road. Lance took a glance over his shoulder, letting out a sigh as he recognized the motorcycle. Stepping out of the car he scanned the area for anything hostile or out of the ordinary before falling back onto the bike. There were some skid marks behind it and a bit of damage that Lance could see. He looked up to the tree line looking for the flash of honey brown hair, the county’s savior, spotting him a few feet in under the shade of an aspen. Lance let out a slow breath as he walked over taking in his appearance. The last time Lance saw him he had a slash to his abdomen and had a feeling this wasn’t going to be any different.

As he got closer he saw the bruising and small bits of dried blood on his cheeks. It looked as if he had walked over to try and hide, despite most of the county knowing what his bike looked like. His face seemed a bit paler than it should have been, but then again it could have just been the lighting. If Lance didn’t know any better he’d say Wes was dead with how still he was for once, but he did and that wasn’t a good sign. Here’s to hoping there’s no major injuries. 

Lance put his gun away in the back of jeans bending down to lift the overgrown child, ignoring the small groans of protest from him, laying him in the small backseat of the truck. Lance picked up a bit of railing making a makeshift ramp to get the motorcycle in the bed of the truck. With one last look around the area he jumped back in the truck getting the two of them back to his house as quickly as he could manage. He’d wait to call Cat, she’d be over and worrying faster than he could finish the call and there was the matter of her having to make an appearance at the baptisms with John here soon. 

Wes didn’t wake much to other than say he was in pain, or wonder what was happening, Lance could exclude any more brain injury off his list. By the time they made it to his house Wes was more alert and was able to walk into the house. Lance couldn’t help but notice that there was a small limp to Wes’ walk as they made their way to the now converted guest bedroom, something Cat insisted on doing after the last incident with Wes. 

“Alright, kid let’s get you laying down,” Lance mumbled as Wes got himself settled on the full size bed. Considering the damage to the motorcycle Lance found it best to look over Wes’ head first for anything out of the ordinary, clean bill of health as far as he could tell. “Sometimes I think you have a death wish,” Lance mused as he took note of the small red mark under the corner of his jaw, “but at least you’re not dumb enough to not wear a helmet.” Lance’s inspection brought up a sprained ankle and wrist, some scrapes, bruises, and a minor concussion. Nothing that a good rest and taking it easy couldn’t fix really. Lance took care of wrapping up the ankle and wrist, elevating them before making his way to the kitchen. 

There wasn’t much that he could leave out for Wes to wake up too other than foods that were better classified as snacks, not that it mattered to Wes apparently. It still surprised Lance how much he knew about the kid, albeit all second hand. Lance brought some of the food leaving it on the night stand along with a note informing Wes of his safety and how there was more food in the fridge for him. Lance, lastly, took the blanket at the end of the bed placing it over him, tucking him in before Lance could stop himself, leaving him to care for the old bike. 

The damage could have been worse, especially having spun out like he did, and Lance had most of the parts lying around that he should have it fixed by morning. He rolled his sleeves up getting to work on the bike. It felt like second nature to Lance as he let his mind think back to the days before this whole mess, to when things were simpler. How Sage would come for the summers and had made friends here, the festivals, the nights at the bar with friends, the impossibility of Lance finding work as a mechanic, and how there was so much more laughter it seemed. Lance hadn’t had any times that were similar in a long time, which made it feel odd that he had brushes with the better times since Cat started to hang out with Hope County’s notorious pair. 

Even before this mess he knew who Rafael and Wes were, how could one not, and alarm bells started to go off the minute Cat had told him about how she wanted to give a gift to the more responsible of the two. They were a package deal and Wes’ reputation hadn’t changed much in the years since he was a lanky teenager trying to win the approval of his father. He was reckless, head still in the clouds, loud in his plans, and had a look at me, but not that close attitude, everything that could get someone like Catlina killed….and yet, here he was caring for the kid. Lance kept telling himself that it was only because she would be devastated if something were to happen to Wes, but it was just an excuse, he did care for Wes. He shouldn’t, but he did and it was hard not too when Lance could still remember the few times they met before this. It was never for very long and even then Lance’s heart went out to the kid as his father seemed to treat him like disappointment for just being him. In Lance’s opinion Wes wasn’t that bad of a kid compared to others, he just didn’t seem to fit whatever ideal Brooks had for a son. Then again it wasn’t like his father was well liked before Wes was born from what it sounded like. 

Lance was finishing in tightening a gear when movement caught his eye from the back door. Wes stood in the doorway bowl of pasta in hand, watching him, “Didn’t say you could work on my bike.” Lance noticed how he tried to shift his weight, the pain making him hold his original position.

“You also didn’t ask me to bring you here,” Lance told him as he stood to switch some tools, “Besides it needed the repairs and your wrist is out of commission for a week.” Wes looked down to the bandage as if seeing it for the first time, “I’ve told you once and I’m telling you again,” Lance pointed at him with a wrench, “You got some luck with you, could have been worse.”

Wes swallowed the bite in his mouth, “Thanks,” his eyes strayed down to his feet, “Whatta ‘bout the ankle?” 

Lance brought a chair to him, “I say a week, maybe two. Week minimum though.”

“What happens if I don’t?”

Lance gave him a smile, “I tell your bestie,” Wes’ eyes widened as Lance laughed, “Not your other half, so you can calm down, just Cat.”

“Ain’t much better,” Wes took a seat on the chair, “She’s bossy.”

“Cares about ya,” Lance went back to his spot, “Good to have people like that for you.”

“Guess it’s better, she’s nicer.” Wes looked down to the food he had, “She make this?”

Lance shook his head, “Believe it or not I know how to cook. It’s not much but it’s better than living off bar peanuts.” Wes gave Lance a smirk, “Help yourself to as much as you want, kid.” The two sat in silence a bit before Wes started to hum “Blackbird” by The Beatles, “Still start with that song first I see,” Wes’ golden eyes looked his way briefly, “First year I moved up here, needed work and Brooks was mad at Merle so I came over to help out. You’d come out and watch, start hummin’ and then be forced to help us after that.”

His brows knitted together, “Don’t ‘member that.”

Lance threw his head back in a laugh, “Not surprised by that one bit.”

Wes straightened out in the chair, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know the one thing I remember the most about you,” Lance met his eyes, “That lanky teenage boy who wouldn’t give my daughter the time of day ‘cause his head was so far in the clouds to notice anything else.” Lance gave a smirk and small shrug, “Makes sense now why you were, seems you were aimin’ for a local angel. Damn near broke her heart that summer Wes.”

He fell back in the chair, eyes cast down a small flush to his cheeks, “Oh. Sorry.”

Lance waved him off, “Don’t worry ‘bout it. Wouldn’t have wanted her anywhere near your dad,” Lance thought a moment, “Okay I never wanted to be near your dad more than I had too.” 

“You worked with ‘em though,” Wes said, curious. 

“Only when he was mad at whoever he got to work with him previously,” Lance looked over his work, “Gonna need to go somewhere else, unless you don’t care about appearances.” Wes gave a small shrug, “You just gonna fix it later aren’t ya?” Lance gave a nod as his own answer wiping his hands free of the grease pointing to the empty bowl in Wes’ lap, “You want more or somethin’ to drink?”

“Beer if you got some,” Wes said, setting the bowl down on the small table, “please.” He pulled out a carton of cigarettes looking up to Lance, “S’okay to smoke?”

Lance paused, “How many of those you smoke a day?”

He put the butt in his mouth, “Five, maybe less,” he gave a small shrug, “Why?”

“Those things’ll kill ya,” Lance pointed to the box, “You should stop, but always got the feelin’ you aren’t the type to listen to much. Don’t sound like you’re a chain smoker either so have at it. You really should quit, it’s a bad habit.” He took a step through the doorway turning to face Wes once more, “Just don’t be rude and get ash everywhere, use the ashtray.” 

Lance got them the drinks quickly sitting upwind of the smoke, “You ever smoke?” Wes held the box out to Lance.

He shook his head, “Not since I was a teenager,” he took a sip of his beer, “Only stopped ‘cause my girlfriend didn’t like them.”

Wes put the box back in his pocket, “Can I ask somethin’?” Lance gave a nod, “What happened to Sage? She lives here right?”

Lance shook his head, “Never did. Just visited for the summers, till school got to be more important.”

“Divorced?”

“Yep,” Lance watched as Wes put the dwindling cigarette in the ashtray, “Lived out in Seattle. Last I know Sage lives in California, finishing up her doctorate at Stanford, with her girlfriend.”

Wes’ eyes moved to Lance quickly, “That why you stopped talking?”

“What do you mean?” Lance looked Wes over trying to figure out what it is that would prompt such a question. “Oh. You think I turned out like your old man,” Lance shook his head, “No never. We stopped ‘cause of me joining. I knew well before that.”

“You proud of her still?”

 Lance nodded, “Yeah. I love her, always will be,” Wes looked away from him, he gave Wes a sympathetic look, “Sorry Brooks couldn’t be the same for you,” Lance reached a hand to place on Wes’ shoulder. “You deserved better. I mean look at you now,” Lance assured, “You went through hell and didn’t let it change the soft and caring nature of you. Takes a lot of strength to do that.” 

“Cat tell you about that?” 

“No. Some small details, but I put enough of it together,” he gave a small squeeze of Wes’ shoulder, “No matter what you did though, Wes, you’re someone to be proud of. Even if he couldn’t see it, there are people here and now that do.”

“Even if I gave up,” Wes asked, leaning back in the chair freeing himself of Lance’s grip.

Lance let out a breath, “If you feel that way then it means you need help,” he gave a series of small nods before continuing, “Got people here that are wanting to help you. No need to carry everyone’s expectations on your shoulders alone.” 

“You one of those people?” Wes asked, looking up through his lashes to Lance. Those same eyes Lance saw all those years ago when all Wes wanted was his dad to tell him what a good job he was doing. The ones that pleaded for some kind of approval from a man that was never going to give it, eyes that Lance couldn’t do anything about because it wasn’t his business back then. What a mistake that was. The least Lance could have done back then was tell Wes himself he was doing a good job in what he was doing. Little things like that would have mattered the world to a young Wes and he didn’t do any of it. 

That was then but this is now and Lance wasn’t ready to make the same mistake twice, “Yeah, kid, I’m one of those people,” he gave a small slap on Wes’ back, “I’ll always be one of those people for you.” He gave Wes a smile, “You want a hug, kid?” Wes looked up to him curious, Lance shrugging, “Sometimes it helps make people feel better. Don’t have to. Brooks never seemed like much of a hugger.”

“Not much of anything,” Wes scoffed.

Lance gave a quick raise of his eyebrows, “Fair. Probably learned it from his dad, cause my old man was the same way.”

“You don’t seem like them,” Wes noted, fingers pulling at the paper label.

“Didn’t want to be. Promised I’d be better,” Lance stared past the bottle in his hand, “Don’t have to repeat the same mistakes. Get to be your own person.”

“No one wants that,” Lance looked over to Wes, slumped in the seat defeated, “Just disappoints people.”

“Cat’s not disappointed, neither am I,” Lance finished off his beer placing the bottle on the table, “You’ve done so much for this place by just being you, I feel proud of ya. I think you could work on being a bit smarter,” Lance gave a small chuckle, “but still proud of you, kid.” 

Wes picked at the edges of the wrap around his wrist, his eyes turned down to the ground, “Thanks,” he brought his hand up to rub the back of his neck, “For everything. Know you’re just doin’ it for her, taking care of me and all. I still appreciate it though.”

It really wasn’t just for Cat at this point, there was no doubting that now. Wes was still trouble but trouble that Lance couldn’t turn his back on, not again. Lance stood putting his hand out to Wes, “Come on, let’s get that ankle elevated. We can watch a movie before it’s off to bed for you.”

“I’m stayin’ the night,” Wes asked using Lance’s hand as leverage to pull himself up from the chair.

“Call it intuition,” Lance said, helping Wes into the house, “but how else am I going to know you’re going to take my instructions seriously.”

Wes gave a small eye roll, “Might be a fair assessment.” Lance sat Wes down on the couch, “What about tomorrow? Can I stay?”

“Why-?” Lance took a look at the small fear in Wes’ eyes, “Oh, right. Your better half.” Lance looked around the house, “Cat mentioned you didn’t like him chastising you.”

“So….,” Wes prompted.

“You can stay long as you need. I won’t be home though, gotta go back to work.” He gave a stern look to Wes pointing a finger at him, “So no wild parties boy,” Lance gave a small smile, Wes giving him a smirk. “Just don’t make a mess of the place and you can stay. Though I doubt Rafael can say anything to ya.”

Wes hummed, “Why you say that?”

“Cause you’re being responsible and you got me as your witness,” Lance responded, sliding the box of movies towards Wes, “Pick whatever you want, I’ll make us some popcorn.” Lance walked into the kitchen, getting the stove hot, “Oh should mention now, the second drawer on the dresser has clothes for you that you can use. Just place them in the hamper when you change.”

Wes turned looking at him an eyebrow raised, “How is there-,” he didn’t finish as he thought it over, “She really thinks of everything doesn’t she?”

“For you two? Always,” he placed some oil in the pot, “So if you could, Wes,” Lance met Wes’ eyes sternly, “think of her a bit in your actions. I know you’re friends but she cares deeply about you, she doesn’t ever want to lose you and I don’t want to see her hurt. You understand?” Wes’ eyes looked down solemnly before nodding, “Good. Now I just gotta tell Rafael that too.”

Wes smiled, rolling his eyes, “Good luck.”

“I can do it,” Lance focused back on the popcorn, “Just gotta find the right words cause his is gonna be worse. I gotta let him know how much he’ll hurt if he breaks her heart.”

“Don’t think he likes her like that,” Wes informed Lance, glancing back at the box of movies.

Lance gave a snort, “Yeah, right. Just you watch, those two will be inseparable soon enough.”

“Then there’ll be two of ‘em,” Wes breathed out in slight horror.

“Better prepare yourself, kid,” Lance turned the stove off before going to get their movie set up, “You got a big storm comin’ your way.” Lance looked over giving a laugh as he watched the words process in Wes’ head.

[why-this-kolaveri-machi]

what does this have to do with clownfish?

i know this was a mostly sad episode that ended on a rather disquieting note, but i was grinning from ear to ear by the end, you guys. I LOVE THIS SILLY SHOW SO MUCH, and i want to tell you why, so let’s talk about titans 2.04:

SPOILERS ahead

1. i get why we’re getting a flashback episode now--the titans’ ~sordid past~ with deathstroke has gotten a fair bit of build-up, and now that slade has jason, we need the history between him and the og team to contextualise the upcoming confrontation. still, i was really looking forward to having kory reunite with the team, goddamit! 

1.5. i like the convivial, almost collegiate vibe that the original titans have about them--the idea of them getting together both desperate to prove that they are more than what their origins and youth might suggest, and to dick around (pun not intended) and just... be, in a way that their individual circumstances wouldn’t allow them. costumes on, in mission-mode, they are trained and hyper-competent, but in their downtime they apparently like adorably warbling off-key at each other and re-enacting 90s/00s cheesy rom-coms. it’s great! i would’ve loved to see these kinds of flashbacks drip-fed to us right from the beginning of the season--putting it all in one episode, from aqualad’s introduction to demise all in forty minutes, not only screws up the pacing, but also robs us of more of garth’s genuinely warm chemistry with the rest of the team. 

1.67. besides, the immediate contrast between this and the way dick conducts the titans now would’ve been funny and quite impactful.

2. for all that dick seemed standoffish and genuinely frightened of himself in s1, the slightly less filtered look we get into his mind in this flashback--well before his existential crisis--is somehow even more disquieting?? the way he talks about batman and his relationship with dawn and even his friendship with donna smacks of an alarming emotional disconnect; a space where his sense of self has fallen and been replaced by a role that he has been trained to play. he smiles more in this episode than probably all eleven of s1 combined, but he’s far more reserved, afraid of vulnerability, and completely unwilling to express any emotion that would come in the way of him being who he Needs To Be.

2.45. this episode puts into sharp relief just how far dick has come to make peace with bruce in 2.01. here batman is a glowing symbol against the night sky; a shadowy figure promising justice is vengeance and not the other way around; a hulking figure that he can hate and love without reserve, that orders him to be better no matter how exhausted he is, even while standing between him and incomprehensible evil like a bulwark. at the heart of the titans tower--a skyscraper on the opposite side of the country from gotham--is another batcave, a sign that how no matter how far he goes, dick’s perception of himself and his relationships is still inextricably tied to batman and his ways. 

it’s the missing link between the angry, grieving boy we saw in flashbacks last season, and the man rapidly spiralling into crisis at the beginning of season 1. he’s internalised batman’s mission before he can decide for himself what he wants to be, and he’s been like this well into his adult years (unlike the comics). no wonder when the moment he goes Too Far finally comes, when he’s so burrowed into himself that vengeance becomes an end rather than a tool, it’s such a violent upheaval, and one that he hasn’t quite been able to put to rest in over a season.

2.65. honestly the matter of fact way he talks about being dawn’s rebound relationship after her breakup is haunting me?? dick grayson--robin, batman’s partner, the First Sidekick, leader of the titans, friend, brother, lover, a valuable asset with trackers in his arm and neck--is so utterly subsumed that his feelings, his self, automatically comes second to the role he’s playing. i wonder if he had found that he’d had a tracker installed in his body without his knowledge at this point, he’d have accepted the cold logic of it (of course batman needs to keep track of him), instead of the visceral reaction he has five years later, when he immediately picks up a knife and cuts it out of his skin.

2.95. (retrospectively it lends so much more meaning to the opening scene of 1.08??? where dick says he needs to go off on his own to get his bearings right instead of staying on to be the Leader after their traumatic time at the asylum and kory and the others are quietly accepting of it?? where’s that ‘that’s growth’ gif when you need it)

3. donna! it’s interesting that her role as a titan was always meant to be a pitstop before she moved on to Greater Things, and her struggle to reconcile that with her growing attachment to the team came across really well. jillian’s never really pressuring her to leave immediately--six months! two weeks! idk, forever! really, it’s your pick!--but donna tells dick she needs to leave that very night, either because she’s hoping that he’ll protest and ask her to stay, or that she’ll fall for garth and lose her wavering conviction to leave if she stayed any longer, or both. 

3.5. donna and garth’s relationship followed so many wonderfully cheesy conventions, with all of their attendant adorableness and Problems. the scions of two different royal families of two different races falling in Forbidden Love! garth clumsily flirting with donna even as she keeps turning him down! (not cool, garth!) bonding over reminiscing about quirky childhood memories! consulting a put-upon mutual best friend! the last minute reconciliation and confession of love at the airport! garth dying right after celebrating his birthday! (that cop was just a day away from retirement!) PERFECT

like. i have NO IDEA why people still insist on calling this show ‘dark’ and ‘edgy’. don’t let the weird lighting and occasional blood spatter distract you from the goofy, well-intentioned heart right at its centre, you guys!

(but man, dick and donna’s quiet heartbreak at the prospect of separation was harder to watch. for a moment, dick really let himself feel the burden, sinking onto his haunches, his head in his hand like he was about to cry. just a moment.)

4. the others’ reaction to garth’s death is very telling. donna is devastated; hank and dawn are upset, but in a distant way that suggests that they didn’t really know him very well or for very long; and dick... well dick is hard at work in his batcave, because that is how he knows to react to disaster. 

4.5. i know that i spend quite a bit of my reviews harping on and on about dick, but he is more than just the team leader, or the one with the most well-defined arc so far, or the connective tissue between the old and new teams: the titans is HIS, in ways both subtle and insubtle. batman is funding the whole thing; their resources, their tech? all wayne enterprises. by extension, this shindig is dick’s idea, dick’s operation, something he shaped after himself--serene, beautiful, somewhat impersonal on the surface and batman-the-symbol, batman-the-phantom, right at the centre. 

4.65. so when the burden of morality-bending vengeance falls squarely on dick’s shoulders, it seems natural. it also seems entirely natural that when dick does follow through on what the team wants from him, the fallout is also put square on him: he’s the one that’s gone completely off the rails, the one that would sacrifice anything for a mission (like hank implies in the previous episode), the one haunted by his own darkness. this, of course, is patently false, as trigon demonstrated earlier this season.

5. the opening scene of slade wilson doing the Thing He Does Best was so fun to watch. i love that this show is always trying to do interesting things with the camera. (tho i wonder, who hired him to take out donna troy in san fran? was that even his original objective? was it dr light? i am Confusion)

5.5. ... even tho the villain-confrontation scenes seemed hampered by low effects budgets and a lack of... kineticism. i can’t figure out how dr light works even after two episodes of seeing him do his thing. he can apparently implant light bombs in people but never seems to use this awesome ability again, when it can actually help him against the titans? 

6. the moment i saw joey wilson’s profile through the window of his home, i knew he was going to be my favourite character on this show. i love him and his enthusiasm and his cute shoes and his love for vintage records SO MUCH! i know it’s been hinted that he died, but i can’t bear the prospect for even a second. HE’S ALIVE AND WELL SOMEWHERE HAVING TEA AND LISTENING TO GREAT MUSIC WITH AMY ROHRBACH, I JUST KNOW IT

6.5. dick (and the others) wouldn’t be so horrified with themselves and think about shuttering the titans for good if they hadn’t felt some kind of attachment to jericho. dick especially i think is going to fall into an actual honest friendship with joey and is going to extremely disgusted with himself when it all ends in tragedy anyway. 

6.75. we’re probably not going to find out what actually happened to joey for a while, but here’s hoping the Unforgivable won’t happen.

7. on the brightside tho, KORY’S BACK NEXT EP! can’t wait. 

[seriouslyblacklikemysoul]

Her eyes, the stars - Bucky Barnes x Reader (Steve Rogers x Reader)

[I know, I am a ghost. Sorry guys. Enjoy.]

The reminiscence of a rose - the single flower that’s so impossible to hate, delicate and pretty, even when it stops blooming. Her voice could calm even the most chaotic oceans, always soothing with soft notes of comfort. Even her eyes could mesmerize the most soulless creature; her sweet face left him dreaming in heartache. On the nights his loneliness stung him harder than cheap liquor; he was always thinking of her. For he reveled in the memory of her heart placed on his hands. As he tried to get drunk on other people’s skin. Yet all that regret still burned his chest. And he realized that he once had the best. Since she loved his highs and lows. He thought about what he once held. He regretted leaving her. But she deserved more than his pettiness and demeanor.

She begged herself to stop loving him.She hated herself for all the mistakes she had made, all those wrong decisions - she blamed him for he made her vulnerable. He was the sun, never really committed to one planet, always dancing around the universe, with bright colors revealing themselves, leaving her in awe. Her heavy blues of night opened to reveal the chariot of the sun lighting up the sky with various shades of yellow and gold. The feeling was almost theatrical and the dramatic intensity was palpable. How could they end up in the same sky, when he was the sun and she was always so fond of the night? They were just celestial objects, trying to find the one perfectly still moment, so they could co-exist in harmony without worrying about nature's balance. That moment had passed them by, ignoring their desperate attempts to escape the chaotic force.She was a whole universe in motion - he had guessed that was why she seemed so tired lately...It must be an exhausting, yet beautiful thing to brush the orbits of all the universes she walked by. He had tried to stop thinking that he made her so unhappy. He couldn't. Instead, he tried to understand her a bit better than before, to get close to her, without hurting her. Again. She was no pawn in his game, she was clever and cunning - but just to hide her true self.

"You think you can define me, that I am a tick in just one box. Like my being is a door that a single key unlocks. But let me tell you something - something I figured out after you broke me. I have the universe inside, I hold an untamed ocean with a constantly changing tide. I'm home to endless mountains with tips that touch the sky, flocks of grand migrating birds and deserts harsh and dry. Please, don't tell me that you know me. That "this right here is what you are", trying to get an old and very dead version of me back. I am the universe in motion, for I was born from the stars" she was talking to him, trying to make a point, to seem sure about what she had become - but she was scared of her heart. Oh, the things it made her do. He wasn't taken aback, which surprised her. He was looking into her eyes, watching the soft colors of the sky fooling around with the dark strokes of her irises. It was true, her eyes held the stars. She closed her eyes, overwhelmed by the swirling feelings inside her. She felt every single cell of her body begging for her to forgive him - there was nothing to forgive, really, for he had done nothing wrong. It was her that could not - would not - handle things. She never saw herself in a relationship - so many obligations. She was not made for ballgowns and parties but for battlefields and saddles.

"I am yours, forever yours… and when the last star of the universe blinks silent, I will still be yours", his answer came naturally to him. It was the most sincere thing he had ever said. He knew her as a sea breeze, but now she met her as a hurricane. So he knew, she needed to be alone. She had been craving freedom so long and he had been blind. He was a liar- he lied to her, to the entire world, to his own self. He wasn't the Golden Boy, people made him to be. He had hurt her in ways he couldn't have imagined before. She softly smiled to his words, because she knew he was being honest. Once upon a time, everything was magical and they were found themselves walking through a chaotic paradise. The entire multi-universe had changed.

"I might have been too harsh, Stevie. Truth is that this, us, has turned to dust right after we were defeated. Five years now, we have been foolish enough to try and make things work. We have been lying to everyone, we want them to move on and be alright when I know that all those sleepless nights we have been thinking of a way to make everything as it was. I also know, and please do not try to deny it, that you are not mine. Not really, not entirely, not ever. For you, it's always gonna be Peggy. Accepting that, was the hardest thing I have ever done". His face twisted in a guilty way. Everything she had experienced for the first time, had been with him. It hurt her but she would move on, find someone else to make her feel alive again.

"I... I am sorry. I love you, you should know that. It's just. I can't shake the feeling… I am so sorry" he calmly apologized to her. He couldn't control his heart.

" And I love you. You can't unlove someone. You can, however, become just friends with them. I wouldn't want to lose you from my life. So... Hey dude" she tried to change the dark and painful situation into something less... 

It all happened so quickly and slow at the same time. It was a disaster and a triumph. Everyone came back - well, not everyone. Once she laid eyes on Bucky, she ran like hell and almost knocked him down as she enveloped him in a bone-crushing hug. How she had missed him - her best friend, companion and well...it would take her a while to admit it but there were butterflies, even though she did push them away every time, convincing herself that it was nothing more.

"I missed you Jay, so damn much" was all that she managed to say before Steve called them to assemble. 

They won. And they lost. All thanks to the amazing Tony Stark. After a horrific scene of Thanos wearing the gauntlet and snapping his fingers - only to realize that Tony had stolen them right on time - everyone's heart fell and crushed and burnt. Yes, Tony defeated Thanos but at what cost?

He had always been the only father figure she knew- if she thought that standing against him with the Sokovian Accords was devastating, this was torture.

When things slowed down, Steve looked at her for the first time in what seemed like a lifetime. Her porcelain-like skin was bruised, stained and twisted forming a pained mask, her hands were trembling and she was leaning against his best friend- why was this the first time he was noticing the look on Bucky's face? Why was this the first time he felt that his friend craved to be more than a friend to her? 

Life has a strange way of revealing her secrets, a dark sense of humor. It goes on, like a circular river, never-ending, never resting. After the simple ceremony to honor Tony's memory, she took a step back, asking for a few weeks off of the team to help Pepper and Morgan. All she wanted was to feel normal again. One more task before that though.

Seconds before Steve stepped into that platform to be teleported back in time, she called for him. He knew it and so did she. She had seen it in his eyes after they had mourn Natasha. In all honesty, she understood why - he deserved the life that was taken away from him, without asking him if he liked the alternative options. Bucky knew it. He knew it when he saw him on the blood-stained battlefield. He felt it in their hug. He also knew that she knew- he was the one both her and Steve had asked for help before Thanos. He was the one who swallowed his feelings for her and gave her a friendly shoulder to rest her head. "Thank you" Steve mouthed to her. She smiled, eyes covered in tears threatening to spill. "Go".And he was gone. Bucky gave her hand a gentle squeeze and she turned to face him. Unknown him, she had become aware of his feelings. And her own, slowly but steadily. "A soul that carries empathy is a soul which has survived enormous pain" she softly whispered as if she didn't want to be heard. He felt that she could read his mind. All those years ago, another Bucky had existed- one who flirted shamelessly with everyone. He had to get in touch with him if he wanted a chance with her, he thought, only to be proven wrong after a while. He just had to be himself. 

She had finally realized that Steve and her were exactly like the moon and the sun- and their time together was an eclipse, a breathtaking phenomenon, a glimpse of what it could have been. A moment. And that was okay. She regretted nothing. It was perfect in its imperfection.

She found herself knocking Bucky's door, not knowing why. All she wanted was to see the stars but somehow when she was greeted by sliver blue eyes, the stars seemed inefficient. He was the night, she thought.

"Can I stay here for a while?"... because I am scared when I am alone? He opened up his door to let her get inside because he knew the part of the sentence that left unsaid. His room was warm with a serene view of the night sky. He knew that she loved to gaze the stars, how she would always complain that the moon was a hypocrite. But not tonight. She felt gravitated towards him which made him blush, thankful for the darkness. To say that he hadn't wished for a moment with her, it would be a lie. He was pulled towards her like a magnet and in all honesty, he didn't want to leave far away and get over her.

"Can't sleep?" he asked her in a hushed tone as he laid to his bed, eyes watching her every move. She let a tired chuckle and sat down next to him. He pierced her eyes and she felt naked - and she didn't mind. It was okay for him to see her in all her doomed glory.

"Jay, its past midnight and I’ve pretty much thought of all the words hoping to find something that can remedy this... I can try but my vocabulary falls short when it comes to describing the matters of my heart. My heart. Not yours - mine. I could fill pages about the likes and dislikes of your heart. What makes you tremble what softens you up. I know you like the back of my hand. I know your anger and I know your vulnerability. Vulnerability…. what does that even mean? I guess it happens when you finally take the leap to open up to one who might not ever see you the same again. I guess that your weakness is not supposed to be a different form of feeling when it comes to me. And it isn't. I guess that attachments don’t exist between the two of us. But it does. And I guess, well I guess, that I love you a bit more each day and bit less on the days you choose to ignore me. No, wait, that's a lie. And I know that this is way too forward and yes, he was, is, your best friend, and my ex, which can be a bit awkward -  but you know what? He made a choice, but not before I do. I had already fallen for you and if it's weird -" he did not let her finish. The words coming from hee mouth were burning fires inside his head, for years now. His lips were ever so gently upon hers. It almost didn't feel like a kiss.

In the end, everyone wanted to be like Icarus, hoping to fly high and soar far. Nobody was satisfied with their standing and kept pushing their limits. And that was human...  full of life, blinded, arrogant, wonderful... always falling in the end. But not every fall hurts. She landed softly on his lips, her hands caressing his face and his were holding her tight as if she was a dream and he would soon wake up.

He was the stars and she was the moon. Finally, it worked.

'From stars we came, to stars we'll return and in the middle is all we are'

[1dffchallenges]

One And The Same

Written By: @1dfangirls35​

Characters: Sadie/Niall

Summary: Sadie Wilkinson is a workaholic on the cusp of a big promotion, and she’s not about to let a jerk in a coffee shop ruin that for her. That is until a road trip, blizzard and some alcohol teach her that love and success don’t have to be mutually exclusive. Oh, and that jerk in the coffee shop might be okay too.

Author’s Note: Special Thanks to @wonderonrepeat​ for making me a cover when I wrote this at the literal last minute!

Warnings: Language, Alcohol Use

Sadie Wilkinson had only ever had one great love in her life: her work. Sure, she’d had her share of romantic moments; stolen kisses in the rain, dancing under the moonlight, but when it came down it to it, no man (or boy) had ever grown quite as important to her as her job. 

She went on dates, she got to know potential suitors, but the second things started to turn serious, the second that there were mentions of a future that wasn’t precisely what Sadie imagined, she brought things to a halt. 

The men were often devastated, asking what happened, everything had been going so well, they really thought this could be something. Sadie tried to let them down gently, thinking of any excuse except for the real one: that she was absolutely terrified that falling in love would come between her and the goals she had for herself. The goals that included her becoming a business executive before age 30 and eventually opening her own marketing firm. 

And this is exactly what happened with Matthew, the tall brunette businessman who now stood a few feet in front of her in the line to pick up her daily cup of Joe. The man whose heart Sadie broke a few weeks earlier, and a man that was clearly not over her based on the way he kept turning his head around to catch a glimpse of her from his place in line two heads ahead, as if if he looked over just enough times their eyes would meet and Sadie would realize that he was the one that got away after all.

That of course, was not going to happen because Sadie was never going to make eye contact with Matthew. She’d seen him the moment she’d walked through the doors to the coffee shop, and no broken-hearted boy was going to catch her gaze long enough for him to beg her to take him back. She had an important date to get to after all- with her wooden desk, office chair and newest client anyway. 

Sadie pushed a strand of her wavy blonde hair behind her ear as she checked the time on her phone. While she was used to waiting for her morning coffee, this was taking longer than usual- and of all the days. She tried to take a deep inhale of the aroma of ground coffee beans. That's what Beanz coffee shop was known for: their freshly ground coffee beans. In Sadie's opinion, it's what made their coffee the best in downtown Chicago.

After a few minutes, Sadie found herself ordering her usual, a grande americano with an extra shot of espresso. She then stood at the corner of the long wooden counter, browsing her inbox for the already numerous influx of emails while she waited.

When her name was called, Sadie cautiously brought her cup to the side of the counter and added a sprinkle of sugar, before carefully securing the lid to avoid any disastrous spillage onto her white blouse. Then she made her way towards the door.

“Sadie!” she heard Matthew shout as she attempted to make a quick and quiet exit. She turned her head around slightly, stopping to offer him a polite wave. That’s when another body collided into her, a steaming hot cup of Java dousing the front of her freshly steamed white blouse. 

“Ahhh,” Sadie gasped in shock, turning to face the offender, her blue eyes meeting another pair. “Watch where you’re going will you?” 

The brunette man in a navy tailored suit simply gave her a huff. “Sorry, but you really shouldn’t just stop walking,” he said, his thick accent adding even more harshness to his words. “Next time you try to reconnect with one of your one-night stands, do it outside of the path of people who have places to be.”

Sadie felt her jaw drop. “Next time you run into someone and spill coffee on them maybe don’t be an asshole about it and apologize,” she bit back. The man gave her an amused smile as Sadie reached for napkins from the counter. 

“Maybe a good idea,” he gestured in response to her now vigorous dabbing of the napkins on her blouse, grabbing one for himself and wiping the remnants of coffee spillage from the outside of his cup.

“Have a nice day,” Sadie offered with her most sarcastic cheerfulness, as he made his way out the door. She hoped that when he went to take a swig of his precious cup of coffee that he would find there was not even a drop remaining, all misplaced onto Sadie’s blouse. Or at the very least, he would burn the roof of his mouth.

When Sadie finally arrived at the office, she was frazzled, but incredibly grateful that her forward-thinking self always kept a spare outfit in her office. She rushed through the front door, barely hearing her friend and coworker Kate in the neighboring office.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Kate stopped her as she passed by. “What happened to you?”

“Two words. Coffee and a jackass.” Even the mention of her encounter at the coffee shop had Sadie’s blood boiling. ”So grateful that we have our girls trip, I mean, business trip coming up on Wednesday. Can’t wait to get away from this place,” Sadie sighed. The idea of the open road, her good friend and some good music sounded like the perfect getaway. And to top it off, the deal she would be traveling for could potentially lead her to the promotion she’d been chasing after ever since starting at the company.

“Oh, Sad about that…” Kate began hesitantly, her face hinting that bad news was about to leave her mouth.

“That’s not a face that looks like it’s going to add something positive to my already awful morning,” Sadie groaned. Kate gave her an apologetic smile. 

“Jason just found out he’s being honored at this dinner for the hospital on Friday night. I was going to skip it originally, but now that he’s getting an award, I…”

“You have to be a supportive girlfriend, I get it,” Sadie replied. But she didn’t get it, not really. Because Sadie couldn’t imagine giving up the opportunity to close on one of the biggest marketing deals in the company’s history- the marketing deal that could potentially lead her to a promotion- for a man.

But Kate was different. Head over heels in love with her boyfriend Dr. Jason Mayfield. Sadie could see the allure of Jason. He was successful, smart, and kind. But dating someone with that much success? It came with its sacrifices, and Sadie had watched as time after time Kate passed up on opportunities to advance her own career in order to help her man advance his. 

“I let Will know this morning. I wonder if they will send anyone else with you?” Kate thought aloud. 

“I can’t imagine anyone else being willing to drop their plans at the last minute can you?” Sadie responded. She wasn’t upset that she’d have to make the trip alone, more credit for her in the long-run. 

“True. We can’t all be workhorses like you Sadie,” Kate said with a grin. “Speaking of workhorses, word is the new hire is starting today. Have you been introduced?”

“Not yet, but I’m curious. Have you?”

Kate shook her head. “Probably will later.”

“Well, I have a meeting soon, I better get changed out of this disaster of an outfit before I make a bad impression on our latest client,” Sadie stated, taking a step towards her doorway. 

“See you at lunch?” Kate asked.

“Yep,” Sadie replied before stepping into her office and closing the door behind her. She opened up the cupboard in the far corner of her room and pulled out a fresh maroon top. She removed her coffee-stained blouse, still damp from the liquid and draped it across the back of her black leather office chair before slipping the satin material of the new one over her head. She just pulled on her black blazer once again when her office phone began to ring.

“Sadie speaking,” she answered into the receiver. 

“Sadie, it’s Will. Do you mind stopping by my office before your meeting this morning? I have some changes to your trip I’d like to notify you of,” the deep voice of her boss, Will, echoes through the receiver.

“Of course, I’ll be right there,” she responded cheerfully. 

Sadie made her way down the hallway to the corner, where Will’s massive glass-paned office stood. Sadie had spent many days daydreaming of how she would decorate her office once she was a CEO, when she had an office with just as much natural light and space as Will’s.

Sadie knocked on the door once and was greeted with a boisterous “Come in.” After opening the door, she was greeted by the face of her boss. Will Hartman was a middle-aged man, with a bit of a receding hairline and salt-and-pepper color to his hair. He’d been working at the company for over 20 years now, and had all the credentials to prove it. But despite his success, Sadie found him to be one of the most down-to-earth people she knew, always offering the right balance of challenges and encouragement to his employees. 

It’s only when Sadie stepped into the room that she realized Will isn’t alone. In fact there was a brunette man in a navy suit standing across from him at the desk. The same navy suit that had ruined her perfectly good morning just minutes earlier.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,”  she thought to herself. 

“Sadie, I’d like you to meet Niall Horan, he’s our new business associate,” Will said, gesturing to the asshole that spilled coffee all over Sadie earlier this morning.

“Nice to meet you,” Sadie reached her hand out to shake Niall’s trying to muster up as much fake politeness in her voice as possible. But the last thing she wanted to do was be polite to the man that had ruined her morning. 

“Likewise,” Niall replied, but Sadie can see a bit off a smirk forming on the side of his lips, which only makes the irritation in her gut grow.

“Sadie, I assume Kate let you know about her conflict?” Will asked, bringing Sadie’s attention back to her boss. 

“She did, yes.”

“Well it just so happens that the timing of this couldn’t be more perfect,” Will began. “We’ve decided what better way to get Mr. Horan acclimated to our company then by having him jump right in to one of our largest business deals. Mr. Horan will be accompanying you to your meeting with the Thompsons in Minneapolis.”

Sadie felt her face grow stone cold. But she recuperates quickly. “Wonderful,” she smiled through her teeth, looking at Niall in her peripheral vision. An amused smirk still sat on his lips, as if he found the whole encounter to be quite comical. But Sadie didn’t find it to be comical in the least, because now instead of a girl’s trip, or even a solo road trip to clear her mind, she would be spending six hours in a car with someone that quite easily could be the most inconsiderate person she’d ever met. 

“I think you are the perfect person, Sadie, to show Niall the ropes. In fact, when I interviewed Niall, I couldn’t help but think of how much he reminded me of you.”

“Really?” Sadie asked rhetorically. She couldn’t believe that Will had just compared her to the likes of a man who spilled his coffee on someone and didn’t even apologize for it.

“Yep, I think that Niall here has the same drive and work ethic as you have. We need more people working here that make work their priority. I mean you’re practically the same person. Niall has big shoes to fill with the effort you’ve put in in your short time here with us,” Will stated.

Sadie tried her best to keep her face pleasant, but internally, her head was screaming as to how somehow who acted like Niall had this morning could possibly be compared to her. Sure she could be determined, cut-throat and at times a bit ruthless, but she would never in a million years act the way he had this morning. 

“Well, I’ll let you get to your meeting Sadie, I’m sure you and Niall will have plenty of time to get to know each other on the drive Wednesday,” Will smiled. 

“Thank you,” Sadie responded politely, turning to make her way out of the door.

“See you Wednesday,” she heard the accented voice of Niall echo as she stepped out of Will’s office. 

Sadie didn’t turn around. No new hire or coffee-spilling jerk was going to take her chance at a promotion away from her. She’d be sure of that.

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

“So do you want to drive first or should I?” Niall asked as Sadie threw her luggage into the trunk of the black Toyota Camry the company had rented for their roadtrip. She still wasn’t sure how she was ever going to survive six hours in the car with Niall, who had only grown more annoying in his first two days in the office. 

Will had been right about one thing. Niall had the same workhorse personality that Sadie had- and it was driving Sadie absolutely nuts. Sadie had never felt as if she had competition in the office, but when Niall started making business plans for clients in only his second day of working- plans that Will praised- Sadie began to grow irritated. No one came into the company and had that much power on day one. Not even Sadie. 

“Why don’t you drive first so I don’t have to listen to your backseat driver commentary?” Sadie sighed, handing over the keys to Niall, as she headed to the passenger seat. 

“How do you know I’m a backseat driver?” Niall asked amused.

“Aren’t all guys like you backseat drivers,” Sadie rolled her eyes.

“All guys like me huh, you think you’ve got me all figured out don’t you.”

“First impressions tell you a lot about a person,” Sadie replied, turning her gaze to look out the window as they began to merge onto the interstate. She hoped that Niall would get the hint that this trip was not going to be full of conversation. If it were up to her, they would be driving to and from the meeting with as little conversation as possible. 

“Oh believe me I know,” Niall chuckled, causing Sadie to snap her head back to look over at him.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“My first impression of you hasn’t been wrong,” Niall shrugged, sliding on a pair of black aviators.

“And what was that?” Sadie asked, her curiosity getting the better of her. 

“That you’re a lonely woman approaching her thirties who devotes her time to her work to fill the void in her personal life. Oh, and you’re clumsy.”

“I thought you accused me of having one-night stands,” Sadie spit back in defense.

“You can be getting all the action in the world and still be lonely,” Niall replied.

Sadie huffed, turning her attention back to the window. Niall had her all wrong. She was devoted to her work, yes. But it wasn’t because she was lonely or felt like she had a void in her life. She had friends, she had wine, she had, well- her work. She wasn’t afraid of love or being with someone, she just didn’t want that love to ruin her career. She was taking care of herself first, and she wasn’t about to let some douchebag tell her that she was alone. 

“So what was your first impression of me then,” Niall continued. 

“My impression of you?” Sadie questioned, feeling that surely by now Niall knew exactly what she thought of him. 

“Yes, other than, you know, being a backseat driver.”

“Hmm, let me think,” Sadie said, theatrically tapping her chin. “You, Niall Horan, are a cocky asshole who thinks a nice suit and a fake accent will get him any girl and anything that his heart desires, when in reality, you’re just an insecure man who is afraid of ending up alone.”

“This accent isn’t fake darling.”

“What are you British or something?” Sadie raised an eyebrow. 

“Irish, actually.”

“A leprechaun then,” Sadie teased as Niall rolled his eyes. Sadie watches Niall as he focuses on the road, observing the dark stubble on the sides of his cheeks and the sharp angle of his nose. She could see how he could get the girls, he was an attractive man. But thankfully, she’d been able to see his utterly obnoxious personality. No amount of good looks could make up for that.

A comfortable silence fell over the pair, and Sadie was thankful that Niall halted his offensive conversation before she got the urge to jump out of the car. Maybe she had been more spot on in her analysis of Niall then he let on. Niall’s words were definitely reverberating in her own head. 

But the silence doesn’t last forever. “How long have you been working here?” Niall asked, breaking up the silence and replacing it with uncomfortable small talk. 

“We don’t have to do this,” Sadie snapped back. There was absolutely nothing wrong with sitting in silence and watching the fields of the Midwest pass by her window. 

“Maybe I want to know more about the shoes that I have to fill in Will’s eyes,” Niall suggested.

“Like you could ever live up to me,” Sadie scoffs. 

“How long?” Niall persisted, and Sadie realized this conversation wasn’t going to end until she gave an answer. 

“Three years,” Sadie stated.

“And this meeting were are traveling for? It's a pretty big deal isn’t it?”

“It is..” Sadie said slowly, wondering where Niall was going with all this questioning. Was he here to sabotage her deal?

“You’re worried I’m going to outshine you- with my nice suit and fake accent and all,” Niall laughed, his eyes meeting Sadie’s.

Sadie paused, that was exactly what she was worried about. But she certainly wasn’t about to let Niall know that. “I’m very good at my job Niall, I’m not worried about you in the least bit.”

“And you, why did you start this job?” Sadie asked. If Niall was going to interrogate her, she might as well do the same about him. 

“It seemed like a good next step for my career,” Niall admitted with a shrug. “And I guess I needed a change of scenery.” The last part of his sentence is added on hesitantly, almost as if he isn’t sure if he should mention it. Sadie pushed it aside. She wasn’t interested in hearing Niall’s life story, she was just interested in getting to her meeting, sealing the deal and getting the promotion that had she dreamed about ever since she first started her job at the company. 

“Is that snow?” Sadie asked, noting the a small flick of crystallized liquid landing on the windshield. Although she knew that the weather in early November could grow a little cold, she hadn’t expected any snow in the forecast. 

“Just some flurries,” Niall stated, using the windshield wipers to wipe the evidence of precipitation from our viewing area. Sadie nodded and settled back into her seat, crossing her arms around her chest and attempted to get some rest, or rather some relief from conversation with Niall. 

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

But it wasn’t just some flurries. No, the flurries soon turned to rapidly falling snow. The wind picked up and the visibility dropped, and soon Niall and Sadie could barely see a few feet in front of their vehicle. 

“And this is why we should fly,” Sadie groaned as the car crawled along the highway, Niall leaned over the steering wheel in an attempt to see the road better.

“Why don’t we do that again?” Niall asked. It was a genuinely good question, one that Sadie had asked herself thousands of times during her time with the business. 

“Because Will’s all for cutting corners. Plus he believes traveling by car gives his employees a sense of humility.”

“Humility or an accident waiting to happen,” Niall mutters, and Sadie finds herself smiling for the first time of the trip. Their method of travel was one thing the pair could agree on. 

“And of course, there’s no cell signal,” Sadie maneuvered her phone from corner to corner in the car in an attempt to get any sort of data that could tell her just how long this lack of visibility was going to last. It was a good thing their meeting wasn’t until tomorrow morning.

Niall reaches over onto the console and begins fiddling with the radio. There’s static and then finally a loud voice. “The county is currently under a blizzard warning through 10am tomorrow morning. Travel is not advised.”

“A blizzard, seriously, could this trip get any worse,” Sadie threw her hands up in the air. “This was supposed to be my girl’s trip,” she muttered to herself. 

“We’re gonna have to find a place to wait out this storm,” Niall said matter-of-factly. 

“If we do that we aren’t going to make it to the meeting,” Sadie replied with irritation. Niall may have only just started this job, but Sadie knew the importance of these meetings. You couldn’t just not show up, blizzard or not.

“So you want us to kill ourselves driving in this blizzard? No thank you, I’m sure if you call when we get in we can push the meeting for a little later tomorrow.”

Sadie sighed and gave in to Niall’s request. Hopefully the Thompson’s would be understanding of the circumstances.

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

"Bad storm we've got our there, huh," the broad bearded man at the hotel check-in noted as Sadie and Niall burst into the lobby. Sadie felt the large snowflakes that covered her body begin to melt in the warmth, leaving her a wet and soggy mess.

The little motel off the nearest exit was not the kind of place that Sadie would have imagined herself staying. The blue shutters on the outside had paint peeling off, and the siding was cracking. The inside of lobby resembled much of what Sadie imagined old creepy cabin to look like- with floor to ceiling dark wooden blanks and a moose head hung above the fireplace. She shuddered and tried not to think about the bed bugs that might be lurking under the sheets. 

"Let me guess, the two of you are looking for a place to wait out the storm?" The man shifted his gaze from Sadie to Niall, who offered up a polite nod.

"That would be correct sir, two rooms please."

The man looked down at his papers, scratching his dark beard before remaking eye contact with a look of apology."I'm afraid I only have one room left, seems the storm has trapped quite a few people in our little old town."

"We'll take it," Niall said sharply just as Sadie was about to ask for other lodging locations.

Sadie glared at Niall, annoyed by his assumption that she would go along with whatever decision he chose to make. "You can have that room, I'll go see if any other nearby hotels have space."

"Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but the closest hotel is 30 miles north of here, and you’re not getting there in these conditions,” the man replied. Sadie felt her face fall. 

“Guess we’ll take your room then,” she said with a huff of irritation. She didn’t want to think about having to spend even more time with Niall, but at least in a hotel room they could divide the room into sides.

“Don’t know how long this blizzard will be going, but if you get bored there’s a pub just next door. We’ve got some blizzard drink specials even.”

“We’ll have to check it out,” Niall said authoritatively. “Thank you.” He grabbed one keycard before sliding the other across the counter to Sadie. Then the two picked up their bags and headed up the elevator. 

“304, here it is,” Niall slid the keycard into the lock, and opened the door to reveal a small hotel room. Like the lobby, it resembled much of a log cabin, with an overwhelming smell of musty wood and even a pair of antlers hanging decoratively on the wall.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Sadie groaned. In the middle of the room, sat a single bed, with an obnoxious yellow floral bedspread. She scanned the room for a couch, a chair, anything that could maybe be used as a bed. Nothing.

“Fuck,” Niall muttered under his breath. 

“Did you forget to ask for two beds?” Sadie said sarcastically. Was Niall trying to turn this into the absolute worst business trip in the history of business trips? Was this some sort of test put on by Will to see if Sadie could handle additional responsibility? Because so far it wasn’t going well.

“Oh yes Sadie, I forgot to ask for two beds because I just couldn’t wait to spend even more time next to your grumpy ass,” Niall sneered, before setting his suitcase next to the bed. Sadie hoped he wasn’t assuming that she would be sleeping on the floor- because that wasn’t happening.

Sadie took a seat on the bed, after careful examination for any obvious dirt, then pulled out her phone in search for service. The upper corner of the screen still blared no signal. She glanced over at old wired telephone on the bedside table. A phone call would have to suffice.

“Hello?” she heard Will’s voice answer on the other line.

“Hi Will, it’s Sadie, I’m sorry to bother you right now but we’ve got a bit of a problem.”

“You guys didn’t hit that blizzard did you?” Will asked.

“Unfortunately we did, we had to pull off and find a place to stay. We are in the middle of nowhere and there’s no service. Is there anyway you can see if we can push the Thompson meeting until later tomorrow?”

“Oh I’m sure that would be fine, I’ll give them a call,” Will replied, and Sadie felt a sigh of relief rush over her. 

“Thank you so much,” Sadie breathed. Maybe her chances at a promotion wouldn’t be ruined after all. 

“It will be fine Sadie, don’t you worry,” Will said, seeming to read Sadie’s mind. “Now why don’t you and Niall take this unexpected delay as some time to enjoy yourself. I know how you two are- all work and no fun. Why don’t you have a drink on me tonight?”

“Oh, no that’s not necessary,” Sadie protested. 

“That’s an assignment not an offer,” Will replied. “I’ll call you in the morning with the updated meeting time.” And with that Will hung up.

“All good with the meeting time change?” Niall asked, he had changed from his slacks and tie and now wore a black Nike T-shirt and shorts. 

“Yes,” Sadie sighed. 

“See nothing to worry about,” Niall smirked.

“Will says we need to go get a drink- on him.”

“I could go for a cold beer right about now,” Niall smiled. Sadie couldn’t agree more, well, not on the beer part, but a nice glass of wine might do wonders to the tension in her body right now. 

“To the bar it is,” Sadie commanded, standing up from the bed and grabbing her purse. “Oh and by the way,” she added as the closed the door to the room. “I’m not sleeping on the floor.”

“Figured you say that,” Niall smiled, and Sadie watched as a hint of his blue eyes sparkled, before turning away. 

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

A glass of wine and three shots later, thanks in part to the pub’s “blizzard specials”, Sadie felt herself start to relax and her inhibitions starting to fade. Sitting next to Niall at the bar seemed slightly more tolerable- slightly.

“So how long have you two been together?” the Joel, the bald-headed bartender asks as he poured Sadie and Niall each another drink. 

“Excuse me,” Sadie said, thrown off by the question. How could he possibly think that she and Niall were dating? They practically hated each other, and she surely wasn’t drunk enough to give off that impression.

“Oh we aren’t dating,” Niall corrected. Joel excused himself and retreated to another customer. Niall glanced over at Sadie, who could feel the color in her cheeks rising. He raised an eyebrow and gave her a cheeky grin.

“What happened with coffee shop guy?” 

“Who?” Sadie asked, wondering what on earth Niall was talking about.

“You know, the guy who was yelling at you at the coffee shop. The one who caused you to so gracefully run into me,” Niall chuckled. Sadie glared at him recalling the encounter.

“Oh you mean my ‘one night stand’,” Sadie used air quotes for Niall’s words. 

“Yes, him,” Niall said, placing an arm on the counter and resting his head on his hand as if this conversation was remotely interesting. 

“We went on a few dates. He got attached, I didn’t. End of story,” Sadie took another sip of her drink, wondering why on earth she was revealing the details of her love life to someone like Niall Horan. Maybe she was beginning to feel the alcohol a little too much. 

“Sadie Wilkinson the heartbreaker, huh,” Niall smiled, his blue eyes crinkling at the corners. 

“I’m not a heartbreaker,” Sadie protested. “I just have different priorities in life, goals to meet, companies to run..you know.” She took another drink, hoping that the alcohol would wash away the thoughts that were creeping up in the back of her mind. 

“The workaholic who’s afraid love will interfere with her success,” Niall stated looking directly into Sadie’s eyes. For a second, she freezes, because somehow Niall had read her mind. 

Because that’s what it really came down to wasn’t it? Sadie was afraid that falling in love would make her vulnerable, weak, unable to accomplish her goals. Because that’s what love did to people, it made them selfless, willing to give up their own hopes and dreams for the happiness of another person. She’d watch her own mother give up her passion of writing for a more stable job as an English teacher so the family could support her father’s recording studio business. So when Sadie’s dad left one night when Sadie was twelve and never came back, her mother had nothing but a job she hated and a twelve-year-old daughter to support. 

Sadie vowed that would never be her. She would never give up her own dreams for something as transient as love. She would accomplish her goals first, and find love second.

“And what about you, mister hotshot,” Sadie stared at Niall, noticing that his face had softened with the alcohol and his eyes had grown bluer. “Do you have a lovely lady at home, maybe a few?”

Niall glared at Sadie, his annoyance evident. She smiled to herself, happy that she seemed to be able to get under Niall’s skin as much as he was getting under hers. “I don’t date. Too busy with work.”

“And why’s that? A girl break your heart or something?” Sadie laughed, but watched as Niall’s gave shifted back to the bar as picked up another drink.

“Something like that,” he said stoically. Sadie’s smile faded, replaced with a bit of guilt. Maybe Niall wasn’t the cocky asshole who slept around, maybe he was the asshole that had his heartbroken and devoted himself to his work instead.

“Two tequila shots please,” Sadie shouted at Joel, surprising even herself with her boldness. She usually wasn’t a drinker, especially not when there were important work meetings at stake. But something about her conversation with Niall had driven a need for more alcohol. And maybe the two workaholics needed a bit of fun to get rid of the stress.

Joel sets the liquid in front of the two. Sadie holds up her shot glass in the air. Niall follows. “To work, our one true love.” 

Niall laughs. “To work.” The two clink glasses before pouring the burning liquid down their throats. 

“Let’s dance,” Niall suggested, obviously feeling the effects of the alcohol as much as Sadie. 

“Do I look like the type of person that dances?” Sadie crossed her arms in front of her chest.

“We are stuck in a fucking cabin in the middle of a blizzard, I think anything goes at this point,” Niall laughed, standing up and offering Sadie a hand.

“Fine,” she said, grabbing his hand. His fingers were soft but strong, and she feels her own fingertips tingle- obviously an effect of the alcohol. “But don’t be trying any of your moves on me.”

“Wouldn’t dare,” Niall smiled, and for the first time on their trip, Sadie felt like maybe he wasn’t the worst person in the world.

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

“DON’T STOP BELIEVIN’, HOLD ONTO THAT FEEELINNNG!” Niall and Sadie shouted as the exited the elevator and stumbled back to their hotel room. It was a little after two am, the pair had managed to close down the club with their dance moves and bad karaoke. 

They’d had a little to drink. Okay, maybe a lot, because Sadie couldn’t remember the last time that she’d ever sang in a hotel hallway at the top of her lungs. Maybe at her 21st birthday- but even that was a maybe. 

Surprisingly though, Sadie didn’t feel an ounce of regret for her wild night. It was slightly freeing, invigorating even to not worry about work for an evening. She might even dare to say that she had fun- a word that rarely was part of her vocabulary anymore. 

“Shit, I’m drunk,” Niall said, stumbling into the hotel room and grabbing a pillow off the bed and laying on the hard wooden floor. 

“Definitely going to regret this in the morning,” Sadie agreed, filling a glass of water in the hotel sink before plopping down on the bed behind her. 

“I can’t remember the last time I drank like this,” Niall admits, staring up at the ceiling from his spot on the floor. Sadie noted how his formerly neatly groomed hair was now sticking out from all angles, giving him the appearance of more a poodle than a man. 

“Same,” Sadie groaned.”God you’re a bad influence.”.

“Me? If I remember correctly it was you that started ordering all the tequila shots.”

“Only because you started getting all sad talking about your love life,” Sadie defended.

“I wasn’t sad about my love life, Sadie,” Niall defended, his voice slower due to the amount of alcohol he had consumed. “I’ve just realized that being in love isn’t worth the time.”

“Finally someone who gets it,” Sadie flipped herself over on the bed so she was looking down at Niall. “All society tells us from the moment we enter childhood is that love is the only thing that will make us happy, the solution to all of our problems. But it’s exactly the opposite. Love is the cause of all our problems, because if we stopped worrying about falling in love and focused on ourselves, on what we could accomplish in life, we’d be so much better off. We’d get rid of all the drama. And you know what we’d be accomplished and happy, so screw love,” Sadie’s voice was louder than expected.

“And now you say, ‘Thank you for coming to my TED talk’,” Niall chuckled. “But you’re right, screw love.”

Sadie felt her cheeks begin to from a smile. Those tequila shots had really done her in, because know she was connecting with Niall Horan on their mutual distaste for love.“Will might have been right about the two of us.”

“Right about what,” Niall asked, his eyes meeting Sadie’s.

“That the two of us are one and the same,” Sadie said, surprised that the words even left her mouth.

“I’m just a little more charming and less annoying,” Niall smirked, to which Sadie threw a pillow at him in response.

“Ooowww,” Niall squealed dramatically. 

“But for the record I still think you’re a bit of an asshole,” Sadie said. She couldn’t let Niall think he’d won her over after all. 

“This floor is hard as a rock. If I wake up and am still able to walk it will be a miracle,” Niall groaned, resituating himself on the floor. He looked up at Sadie with a pouty face. 

“Fine we can share the bed, but if you so much as touch me,” Sadie threatened, scooching over to make room for Niall.

“Got it, I got it, I’m a dead man,” Niall said, climbing into the bed next to Sadie. She felt the warmth of his body immediately, but tried to ignore it, shoving a pillow between the two of them. 

“Really Sadie, a pillow, what are we twelve?” 

“I may be drunk Niall Horan, but I am not stupid. Pillow or the floor, your pick.”

Niall groaned but settled onto his side of the bed, with only a pillow separating the two from touching. 

“Goodnight,” he said, not expecting a reply.

“Goodnight,” Sadie whispered, surprising even herself.

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

Sadie woke up with Niall’s arm wrapped around her waist and her head snuggled beneath his neck. Although she thought her initial reaction would be to fling Niall off of her and tell him off for not abiding by the pillow barrier, she stayed completely still.

There was something about lying in Niall’s arms that felt rather calming, like she didn’t have to worry about what was coming next. Or maybe Sadie was only feeling like this because she woke up with a pounding head and a swirling stomach- neither of which was ideal for her meeting with the Thompsons this afternoon.

The Thompsons. Sadie suddenly remembered that Will would be calling her with information about the meeting, which hopefully had been rescheduled. She only hoped that ringing of the telephone at some point this morning wouldn’t worsen her headache. 

Sadie feels Niall stir behind her, and she closed her eyes quickly to avoid being caught as a willing participant in this spooning position. “Shit,” she heard Niall’s voice mutter as he awoke, likely observing their positioning on the bed and worrying for his safety.

She tried to hold in the giggle that was building, but soon it escapes her lips fully audible for Niall to hear.

“You’re awake?” Niall asked with confusion, removing his hand from Sadie’s waist. She felt the cold air replace Niall’s warm body, and a part of her longed for the return of his touch. 

“Just woke up,” Sadie murmured, turning to meet Niall’s face. His face was tired, his hair even more wild than last night, and his eyes were slightly surrounded by bags. Unlike his usual tough professional appearance, he looked soft and warm. 

“What?” Sadie asked, when she realized that Niall had been staring at her as much as she’d been staring at him. She figured she really looked like a mess, because judging by the mascara stains on her white pillowcase, racoon eyes were highly probable.

“You look so different in the morning,” Niall said softly.

“You mean I look like shit,” Sadie raised an eyebrow. 

“No, I mean more relaxed, less put together. But equally beautiful.” Niall seemed to realize what he said as his cheeks began to turn red. “Sorry I don’t know why I said that, hangover brain talking.”

Sadie pushed it aside, but she couldn’t help but feel a flutter in her just thinking that Niall had called her beautiful. But before she has a chance to respond the phone rings, and Will’s on the other end. 

“I hope you had a good night,” he asked.

“We did,” Sadie nodded, clutching her head a little at the loud volume of the receiver. 

“Well, I got the meeting moved to this afternoon, and judging by the news it looks like the road has cleared up quite a bit. You two should have plenty of time to get there.”

“Thanks Will, I really appreciate it,” Sadie responded.

“No problem. Oh and Sadie,” Will interjected right as Sadie was about to hang up. “Aspirin is your friend.”

“Meeting still on?” Niall asks as Sadie hangs up on the phone.

“This afternoon,” she replied. “Will says the blizzard has cleared up so we shouldn’t have any problems.

“Shame, I was thinking we could do a reprise of our karaoke last night,” Niall smiled and Sadie laughed. 

“I think that both of us would much rather finalize this deal with the Thompsons don’t you think,” she replied, grabbing her suitcase and searching for a new pant suit to wear. This little detour had been more fun than she thought, but she had to remember the real reason she was here. To get her promotion.

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

After an afternoon of negotiation, lots of water, and a few aspirin, Sadie sealed the deal with the Thompsons and the two headed back to Chicago and their regular working lives. Unlike the first few hours of their journey together, Sadie found that the conversation between the two flowed easily. Niall wasn’t quite the man she had first thought him to be, and Sadie most definitely not who Niall thought she was.

Sadie couldn’t explain the feeling in the pit of her stomach when she gazed at Niall from the passenger seat. There was something about him that she couldn’t put her finger on, and though the alcohol may have long left her system, there was a part of her that thought maybe Niall got her, in a way no guy had ever gotten her before.

Sadie felt a twinge of disappointment when the two pulled up to the office building, nightfall surrounding them. Niall placed the car in park and they sat in silence for a moment, neither knowing just what to say. 

“Can’t believe we survived that trip,” Niall laughed. “Really thought you were going to kill me there in the beginning.”

“Surprised I didn’t,” Sadie responded with a grin. “It was fun though. I had fun.”

“Me too,” Niall said quietly. Sadie felt his eyes drop from her own down to her lips, and she subconsciously brought herself closer to Niall. Then suddenly, Niall’s lips are on her own. She didn’t pull away, instead letting the electricity flow through her body as his hands met the nape of her neck, intertwining in her blonde hair. 

Niall pulled away suddenly. “Sorry, don’t know why I did that.”

Sadie set her hand on top of Niall’s giving him a reassuring squeeze. A few days ago she would have screamed at him for thinking he even had a chance with her, but now. Well now all she wanted was for him to do that again.

Niall cleared his throat. “Umm, Sadie would you maybe,” his eyes shifted to the ground, as if he was afraid making eye contact might make the situation more awkward. “Would you maybe like to go get dinner sometime?”

“Like a date?” Sadie asked intrigued. “I thought Niall Horan doesn’t date.”

“Maybe I’d make an exception,” he replied.

“Okay,” Sadie smiled. “But on one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“You understand that my work always comes first.”

“Already in my list of terms and conditions darling,” Niall smiled before pulling Sadie in for another kiss.

[imaginarybird]

Unwilling and unable to face everyone on her own when it comes time to attend Auggie and Ava’s wedding, Riley Matthews hires a solution in Lucas Friar. Loosely based on The Wedding Date.

Part One // Part Two // Part Three // Part Four // Part Five // Part Six // Part Seven // Part Eight // Part Nine

Rating: Around a PG 13/14

Notes: Well, I’d apologize how long it took to get this done and promise never to do it again but I think we all know it’s entirely possible given my track record. But I promise that I’m never gonna abandon the fic until it’s done so you will get an ending eventually. 

Continuing over from last chapter is a blanket content/trigger warning for  some non-graphic, veiled references to depression/suicide/death.

In this chapter, an explanation is given.

page break since they took the function away wtf tumblr 

“I wanna see what Claire can do.”

“I can’t do anything.”

“Now, everybody can do something.”

Lucas gets back to their room at the bed and breakfast about an hour after leaving the restaurant, and finds Riley curled up on the bed in a nest of blankets and pillows and watching The Breakfast Club on her laptop.

His first instinct after realizing that Riley had fled from the disaster of a party had been to try and call her cell phone, but that instinct had been proven faulty when, with one phone ringing up against his ear, Lucas had felt a second phone buzzing in the pocket of his khakis and remembered that Riley had asked him to hold onto hers due to a lack of pockets in her dress. She hadn’t retrieved the car from the valet and kids working there had insisted that they hadn’t seen her since they had dropped off the car at the start of the night (and Lucas had had plenty of time to ask around in the twenty minutes it had taken to retrieve the vehicle). With no way of reaching his client and no idea of where she might go aside from their hotel, he’d had no choice but to make the drive back and hope that she was already there or at the very least was safe wherever she ended up.

Finding her back in the room, safe and not completely devastated is a relief. He doesn’t know when exactly she decided to run or how much of Eric’s revelations she had heard, but he had been more than a little worried that the violation of her trust and humiliation would have been enough to do her in, regardless of the strides she had seemingly been making earlier in the day (and given exactly what Eric divulged the most irrational parts of Lucas’ brain had been busy visualizing exactly what he might find if it had for the entire ride home). Actually seeing her helps Lucas to breathe again.

Seeing her watching one of his favorite movies leaves him feeling a bit more even-footed with where she stands and how he might be able to be there for her moving forward.

The Breakfast Club has always been the visual equivalent of comfort food for Lucas--with just the right balance of humor and drama and everything else to not be too much no matter what mood he’s in, and helping him even things out and return to zero when he needs to. That Riley had gone back to the room and set to watching it after the night she had had leads him to believe that it holds a similar place in her heart. Just one more thing they seem to have in common.

She’s further in the movie than should be possible, but he reasons that she might have skipped ahead to a part that she wanted to watch.

He does that sometimes too.

Lucas kicks off his shoes at the door, only speaking when he’s seen her eyes on him so he knows he’s not starling her. “You made it back safe?” 

She glances down, blushing. “I ran down the street a bit to a bar and had them call me a cab.” She discloses softly. Her voice is strained, giving away that there had at least been some tears in the hour since they’ve seen each other. “I had some cash in my bra to pay them, and the manager here let me back into the room. I’m sorry I left.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t notice to come with you.” Lucas crosses the room, sitting on the edge of the bed. He doesn’t want to invade Riley’s space, particularly when he knows she’s feeling vulnerable, but he doesn’t want to talk from across the room either. Apologies shouldn’t come from a distance. Not if you mean them. “I let my curiosity get the better of me and I got distracted from what was really important.”

“No one with a pulse could look away from that fiasco.” Riley shakes her head, dismissing the amends. She pushes away from her makeshift nest and sits up. She’s still dressed for the party.“I needed to be alone for a little while anyway.” 

Given that it’s barely been an hour (less really if he factors in the time she spent getting back to the bed and breakfast) Lucas considers offering to go out and let her have her space for a while longer. It’s not that late and there are plenty of restaurants and bars in the area that stay open well into the night. Hell, he’d be happy just going to swim some laps somewhere and working out some of his own angry energy, vacillating under the surface over the damage that Riley’s so-called family have managed to cause her. If Riley needs time by herself, it would be easy to give it to her. 

“Do you want me to--,”

“Do you think it’s true?” Riley interrupts him. 

Her question comes in a soft, uncertain tone that doesn’t seem like a good fit on her to Lucas, and he realizes quickly that he’s not sure what she’s asking about; Cory and Eric had made a lot of claims while shouting at each other--any one of them might make her question things when she’s already vulnerable. “Do I think what’s true?”

“What they’re talking about…” She casts her eyes back to the laptop.

“It’s unavoidable. It just happens.”

“What happens?”

“When you grow up, your heart dies.”

“Do we all just...lose our ability to love and become our parents? Is that what’s waiting for us?”

OK. So maybe The Breakfast Club isn’t always the best choice for a movie. 

Lucas has always just found it comforting to see a group of kids he could really relate to opening up and being honest and finding small ways to buck at the system that’s strangling them, and he’s never gone down the path of wondering if there’s any truth to the cyclical nature of the world the characters are worried about.; since giving up on trying to please his family he’s been so certain that he’ll find a way to be better than them that he hasn’t had to. But for Riley--who had, as best as Lucas can discern, experienced her parents’ transition from loving and caring to conditional and dismissive--becoming some version of her parents is a very real fear. Of course it would be. 

He leans across her to press the spacebar and pause the movie, lest they go further down the existential rabbit hole (not to mention, he knows what confession is coming up and  while he can’t be sure if what Eric let slip about Riley’s state of mind when she left her family is true, Lucas hardly thinks an extra reminder on the subject will be helpful either way). “Riley,” he says as he draws back, “I’ve spent the last week wondering how outside of appearance you could possibly be related to your parents. Believe me, you’re nothing like them.”

“They never used to be like them either. I mean...when I was little, they were great. It’s just that the older I got...I didn’t need them in the same way and they didn’t understand me and they just...stopped trying. They drifted further and further, and put their focus on the people they thought needed it more. And then when I stopped following their plans and making the choices they thought were best for me...it was like I stopped being their daughter at all. I was just...the disappointment who shared their DNA.”

Riley tears her eyes away from the frozen movie. She only glances at him before looking down at her fidgeting hands, but it’s just long enough for Lucas to see the pain she’s grappling with. 

“Lucas, the idea that one day I might hurt someone like that, that I might do that to my child...It’s terrifying.”

“If there is one thing I am 100% certain about all of this, it’s that you are in no way capable of being that awful to someone.” Lucas can’t entirely explain his confidence given that he’s only been around for a few days to observe her, but he knows--just knows-- that Riley’s not the sort of person who could hurt someone the way her family has hurt her. Even unintentionally. He doesn’t believe for a second that she has enough malice in her heart to treat anyone that poorly and he can’t bear the thought of her spending any time whatsoever doubting and torturing herself over something that could never happen. “You are, without question, a bigger and better person than the people who raised you.”

“You can’t possibly know that.”

“Of course I can. Do you think for one second that if the situation were different, and your parents had to walk into a lion’s den like this that they could show up with a smile on their face and not cause a scene? Do you think they’d bother to show up at all?”

“I only came back because Auggie asked me to.” Riley shakes her head in protest. “That doesn’t make me better than them.”

Lucas lays a hand on top of hers, partly to reassure her that he’s not buying into her argument, and partly to ground himself; he’s here with Riley and helping her and as long as that’s the case, he doesn’t have to, and in fact can’t, give into his anger over the self-doubts her family has caused. “You came back for Auggie, even though you knew dealing with just about everyone else would be awful, because he’s your brother and you love him and you would have felt terrible letting him down. In a similar position, would your parents have made the same sacrifice? Would Josh and Maya? Or anyone else here?”

Riley doesn’t give him an answer.

“That’s what makes you better than them. You’re here in an impossibly difficult situation, standing tall in the face of all this...shit being thrown at you and barely sending a single angry word back, even though some of these people really deserve it. You are so strong and open and caring...There’s not a doubt in my mind that it would be impossible for you to turn into your parents, even if you wanted to.”

“I wish I had your confidence.”

Lucas takes in everything--Riley’s softness and the way her eyes flick down to their joined hands and her teeth worrying at the corner of her lip--and he feels his heart clench. It hadn’t taken him long after meeting her for Lucas to realize just how much Riley really had going for her, leaving him wondering why she needed to use an escort like him the first place, but the more he’s gotten to know her, the more painfully obvious it’s become that she just doesn’t see the same strengths in herself that he can see in her.

He brushes his thumb across the back of her hand, pressing down gently. “Riley, do you trust me?”

“Of course I trust you.”

Riley’s gentle smile and forehead crinkled ever-so-slightly in confusion plow into Lucas and it’s all he can do to keep himself from closing the short distance between them and drawing her into another kiss. It’s not the time, Friar. She’s had a roller coaster of a night and she doesn’t need your feelings mucking it up even more. Besides, she’s a client. Whatever you think is there, it’s not. He settles for fully taking his hand in his and squeezing. “Then trust that I’m telling you the truth and that I’m seeing the best in you, even when you can’t.”

Riley’s eyes slide closed. She takes a deep, controlled breath, her head tilting backwards as she exhales, shaking her head ever so slightly.

“What’s wrong?” Lucas frowns. He’s not sure what reaction he was expecting, but this isn’t it. Riley seems almost pained.

“People don’t say things like that.” Riley says. She brings her head back down, opening wet eyes to look at him again. Thumbing at the tears that are threatening to spill over, she looks away just as quickly, her gaze landing on her lap. “Not to me.”

Lucas doesn’t think about what he’s doing. He just wants Riley to look at him. To understand that these aren’t just lines he says to any old client. That he 100% means what he’s saying. 

He reaches over with his free hand, easing Riley’s chin up with the knuckle of his bent finger. “Then you haven’t been talking to the right people.”

Riley’s eyes go wide, but she doesn’t blink. Her jaw twitches, but she doesn’t open her mouth. Whatever response is lying in wait on her tongue, she swallows around it.

“Riley, you are...extraordinary.” Lucas says, his hand still hovering just beneath her chin. “And I don’t understand how nobody here sees it, or why the people in your life aren’t tripping over themselves every day to tell you, but you are. You have to believe that you are.”

Riley blinks. Her eyes flick down, then lock on his. She doesn’t speak. Several moments pass.

“I know it’s not-,”

“They all think I’m selfish. Self-centered.” Riley blurts out. She ducks away from his hand, pulling her own arm back. “Half the time I think they’re right.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

Riley speaks after taking a deep breath. “I met Charlie Gardner in preschool. And even back then he was a charmer.” 

“Momma! Daddy! Come meet Char-lee!” Riley runs to meet her parents at the door of the classroom. It’s not every day that she gets to have both of her parents at the same time--they both have a lot of responsibilities (her dad told her that was a grown-up word for doing things you don’t like instead of what you really want to be doing)--but today was her first day of preschool so it was special. She has so much to tell them about her day about all of the games they played and nap time and the snacks, but most of all she wants them to meet Charlie.

She grabs onto their hands and pulls them across the room, almost running into a partially constructed block tower and stumbling a little over an abandoned doll to the small table in the corner where she and Charlie have been coloring. 

“Char-lee, this is my mom and my dad. I call them momma and daddy, but they’re not your parents, so you can just call them their names. Cor-ee and Tuh-pan-guh.”

Charlie stops his drawing and holds out his hand “‘S nice to meet you.”

“And it’s lovely to meet you.” Her mom shakes his hand with a smile. 

Riley grins back. “Momma, Daddy, this is my boyfriend Char-lee.”

“Your what now?”

“Mr. Cory,” Charlie turns to her dad with a serious expression on his face, “when Riley is a grown-up lady, can I marry her?” “Sounds familiar.” Lucas comments when Riley reaches an obvious break in her story.

Riley nods. “Everyone thinks so. Charlie and I ‘dated’,” and here she puts finger quotes, “through kindergarten, when his parents got divorced and he moved with his mom out of the city. I missed him a lot, but it wasn’t long before I had plenty to distract me.”

It’s the first recess on the first day of first grade and Riley’s enjoying herself, picking some of the flowers growing at the edge of the playground fence. Most of her class is over on the blacktop playing a game of tag, or taking turns on the swingset, but no one had asked her to join them. She doesn’t really mind. She and Charlie hadn’t played a lot with the rest of the class last year so it’s not like she’s missing anything, and she’s used to making her own fun.

“Reminiscin’ this and that and havin’ such a good time,

“Oo-de-lally, oo-de-lally, golly what a day.”

She skips along, plucking a flower every few steps and singing a song from one of her favorite movies., not a care in the world. Then a little down the ways she spots another girl, blonde, with messy pigtail braids and scruffy pink jeans, climbing around the monkey bars by herself. Riley doesn’t think she’s ever seen her before.

 A new girl playing by herself who doesn’t even look like she’s having fun? That’s just not right. 

Riley bounds over to the monkey bars, and when the blonde swings down to the ground, Riley grins and thrusts her makeshift bouquet into her face. “Hi, I’m Riley! I brought you these.”

The girl blinks at Riley, looks down at the flowers as she takes them from Riley’s outstretched hand, and back at Riley before she smiles. She’s missing a tooth. “Maya Penelope Hart.”

“Maya and I were fast friends.” Riley pulls her knees up to her chest, looping her arms around them and resting her chin. “Inseparable. By Christmas she was like one of the family. If I did something Maya was there, and if Maya did something… well most of the time I was trying to stop her or getting dragged along for the ride.”

“Bit of troublemaker?”

“No. I mean….yeah, she did a lot of stupid stuff and had attitude that could power a small city if science could figure out how to convert it. Still does, from what I can tell. But really she was just a kid whose family didn’t have a lot of money and whose parents didn’t get along all that well and then her dad just up and left one day...she was angry and hurt and decided that if she made herself tough enough nothing else would hurt her.

“She had her problems but everyone does. And I was brought up that friendship means sticking with a person and setting an example. Giving and doing everything you could to help them grow into a better version of themselves.”

An admirable standard, Lucas thinks, but a lot to lay across the shoulders of a kid. Especially one with an already open heart. “That sounds like a lot to live up to.”

“It was. But it didn’t always feel like it. It just felt like... I had a best friend.”

“What’s your favorite color?”

Riley looks at Maya across the lunch table; all day her friend has been asking these sorts of questions --favorite animal, favorite tv show, favorite tv character--and Riley can’t figure out why, all of a sudden, after three months of friendship Maya is curious about that sort of thing. “Oh, I like every color.”

Maya shakes her head. “Yeah, but if you had to pick one. Or maybe two. Three tops.”

“Hmm…” Riley considers the options carefully. Favorite colors are no joking matter. “Blue. And red. And purple!”

“Interesting. Very interesting.”

A week later, at Riley’s birthday lunch, Maya hands her what used to be a plain white envelope, but that has been decorated with Maya’s somewhat familiar art style and is covered with cats and bunnies and flowers. Riley opens the envelope very carefully to preserve the art (much to Maya’s impatience) and finds a braided bracelet.

 A friendship bracelet. Like Riley’s seen some of the older girls at school exchange. It’s her favorite gift of the day.

Lucas shifts so he’s sitting next to Riley on the bed, feet up and off the floor; this is shaping up to be a lengthy conversation and he wants to be comfortable for it. “It sounds like you were really close.”

“Thunder and Lightning, that was us.” Riley confirms. “We never really had a big friend group but we always had each other, and it was all we needed. My family loved her and welcomed her with open arms even when she was getting into trouble… They all liked to say that she was the Shawn to my Cory.”

It shouldn’t surprise Lucas to hear the comparison--to have it officially confirmed that people were laying the weight of not one extraordinary, one in a million, relationship across Riley’s shoulders, but two--yet it somehow still leaves him stunned. Most of the adults he knows can’t handle living in the shadow of something like that, and she’s been dealing with it for over twenty years...And from all sides it seems like. “From what you told me that’s an impossible standard.”

“I was little and it was the story I had been told all my life. I just...thought I was lucky.” Riley shakes her head. “That I had such great examples in my parents and had found  a good person so I was able to build a friendship as great as my dad and Shawn’s, and I’d keep it as long as I put the work in.”

But something went wrong along the way. Obviously. Riley would almost certainly rather get a root canal than deal with Maya and the barbs Maya sends her way are far from the light teasing of a best friend, even distanced by time. She’s been downright hostile, and those on Riley’s side like Auggie and Eric are more than happy to return the favor. “So what changed?”

“For a long time, nothing. Maya and I were best friends. In middle school Charlie’s mom got remarried and he ended up back in the city at our school and it was like he’d never been gone. We got back together and everything was perfect.”

The parallels now are more than blatant and Lucas can see where the next bit of pressure will come in, but Riley keeps talking so he doesn’t get a chance to say anything. 

“I had my Shawn in Maya, my Topanga in Charlie.... I even had my own Minkus in Farkle.”

The names click together in Lucas’ mind. “Wait. That was really Farkle Minkus belting out Queen back there?” He had, of course, thought that the impossibly skinny man he had caught glimpses of on the stage while trying to help Eric and Shawn wrangle Cory looked familiar, but had dismissed his idea as a trick of the eye and mistaken identity. After all, why would the heir to one of the world’s richest and most innovative technology companies be at a party for a comparatively small wedding in Cape Cod?

“His parents went to school with mine. And then he went to school with me. Auggie’s not super close with him or anything but they were always friendly and our families our close enough to merit an obligation invite. And apparently an obligation attendee.”  From the rain clouds in Riley’s eyes that seem to shift and darken with her explanation, Lucas ascertains that there are likely problems between her and Farkle as well, though perhaps not quite as contentious as those with Maya or her family. “Anyway, he was one of our little group of misfits. Farkle, Maya, Charlie, and me.

“For a couple years, the four of us did everything together. Maya and I were best friends, Charlie really helped Farkle come out of his shell, I think we all helped Maya grow into a more hopeful, happier person... and Charlie and I were in love. At least, as much as you can be at that age.” Riley stops talking, casting her eyes down.

It doesn’t take a genius to see that the story is about to take the turn that truly starts the trouble; all the seeds have been planted, all they need is a good rainstorm to sprout up into a craptastic garden of problems. Lucas prompts her softly when she doesn’t restart her story. “Then what happened?”

Riley looks up, with an expression that Lucas can’t quite read on her face. “Maya’s world crashed down.”

It takes Riley a moment to notice the persistent tapping at her window. She’s half asleep, having gone to bed nearly twenty minutes ago, but when her brain finally registers the sound her eyes snap open. Her parents insist that she keeps her bay window locked at night, and her friends normally respect the curfew, but it is their preferred entrance to the apartment so she knows if someone is showing up late at night, something major has happened.

Sure enough, in the glow of her novelty bunny night light, she can just make out Maya on the other side of the glass.  Riley’s out of bed, unlocking the window in an instant.

“Maya--,”

“Can I stay here for a while?” Maya cuts her off, blowing past her as she crawls through the window to. She quickly stands and starts to pace at the foot of the bed. 

“Of course.” Riley nods, trying to keep track of Maya’s whirlwind pace. Her friend doesn’t have a bag with her, which makes her think that she decided to leave her place suddenly, and a part of her wonders if Maya had bothered to let Katy know that she was leaving, let alone where she was going. “You know you’re always welcome here. But why? I thought tonight was the night.”

Maya stops in her tracks, facing away from Riley. “Shawn said no. Mom asked, and he said no and they broke up.” She turns around, her face scrunching up as she tries and fails to contain her tears. “My mom and Shawn broke up.” 

“Wait.” Lucas blinks, trying and not quite managing to process the information. “Are you talking about your dad’s Shawn? He dated Maya’s mom?”

Riley seems to consider her answer for a brief moment. “Shawn and Maya have a lot in common. When they met he connected with her right away. I think he probably saw himself--who he was when he was a kid--in her and wanted to help her see that things could get so much better than what she was feeling. Hanging around more to be there for that led to him meeting Katy and after a little bit of contention, there were sparks, so they started dating. But…” 

“But?” Lucas probes. It takes him a brief study of her face as he waits for her to continue to realize that her careful consideration of her words isn’t reticence to share on the subject, but her thinking about all of the past events and relationships, probably applying a mature and further outside perspective than she could have managed as a teen. 

“But while Katy was falling in love with one of the first stand-up guys to walk into her and Maya’s life, and Maya was starting to think of Shawn as her dad and that she and her mom were gonna get a happy ending and have a family, Shawn was...I think he was enjoying being the hero and the mentor. Not a lot of people have ever looked at him like that. And when we were sophomores and Katy asked him to move in, he realized that they were on separate pages, and he couldn’t stay in the relationship. He said no and broke things off to do the right thing.”

Ouch. Lucas has been on both sides of that break up before and it’s not a good place. You either feel like a moron for not being able to read your partner and see what they’re feeling, or like a grade-A jerk for being the one to break their heart; he can’t imagine being a kid who thought they were getting a family out of it all and finding out that that was never really in the cards. “I’m guessing Maya didn’t see things that way.” 

“No she didn’t.” Riley shakes her head. “And the fallout was bad.”

“You gave Maya an F on her term paper?!” Riley storms into her dad’s classroom just after school lets out, unable to control her disbelief and anger after her friend had sullenly begged out of their afternoon  plans, apparently due to her mother grounding her via text after Riley’s dad had called to give her an update on Maya’s latest school troubles. “And a week of in-school suspension?! You know yours is one of the only classes that she even bothers to try in anymore and if you fail her she’s--,”

“I gave Maya an incomplete,” her father corrects, the picture of calm as he puts down his pen on top of the quizzes he’s grading and removes his reading glasses, “because she turned in an essay that she bought online that I’ve  already read three times this year from other kids. And instead of turning her into the Honor Committee like I did the other students , I gave her the in-school suspension to serve in the library to give her the opportunity to write the paper properly and get an actual grade on it.”

“Maya wouldn’t--,” Riley stops herself this time.  Because she knows her protest would be a lie. The Maya from last year, or even just three months ago wouldn’t have considered cheating and buying an essay , but the Maya that’s been showing her face with increasing frequency lately almost certainly would. She sighs, feeling her ire rush out of her chest in a flood. 

Maya had been steadily improving since middle school. Trying hard in all of her classes, building a good relationship with her mom, talking about paths she might take after school--some of which even included attending college.

But ever since Katy and Shawn broke up, it’s like Maya’s forgotten every bit of growth she’s made.  She’s rebuilt her tough shell and attitude in record time, shutting everyone but Riley out (and sometimes even her). She’s skipping out on homework and classes, and Riley knows a few people have said that she’s been starting to circle around some of the school’s most notorious burnouts… Nothing Riley has tried has gotten through to her, and she knows everyone’s waiting for things to go back to normal. For her to get things back to normal.

“Dad, I don't know what to do. I don’t know how to help her.”

Her dad leans back in his chair. “Riley, you know how hard it is for people like Maya and Shawn to admit that they want something, and then to have hope dangled in front of her only to have it snatched away...that’s not easy to deal with. She’s hurting in a big way, and it’s not going to disappear overnight.” 

“But I’m her best friend! I know I can’t make it all go away but it’s my job to make sure she gets through it.” 

“She needs to see that even though she didn’t get this, that doesn’t mean she’ll never get anything she wants.” Her dad advises. “You need to give her a win.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Lucas blinks, shaking his head in disbelief, convinced that he can’t possibly have heard Riley right. Because there’s no way that a grown man--a teacher--Riley’s father had actually told her it was her job to make her friend’s dreams come true so she would get back onto the straight and narrow; that’s just not what people do. 

Riley repeats Cory’s recommendation.

“That is...wow.” Lucas just manages to stop the first word that comes to mind, that word being insane, from coming right out of his mouth and casting too much judgement over the situation. Riley’s affect hasn’t changed much from that of a mostly neutral storyteller thus far and it’s hard to read how she feels about what her dad had advised her to do. Given that she’s choosing to trust him and open up (and hadn’t she said something about only a couple of people having heard the whole story?) the last thing he wants is to do or say anything that will make her regret or rethink the decision. “I mean, maybe my perspective is a little skewed since my dad would have given me the exact opposite advice and tell me to cut all ties if I had a friend acting like that but…”

“It’s OK if you want to say it’s crazy.” Riley says. She pushes herself off the bed and heads over to her suitcase, continuing to speak as she opens it and digs through its contents. “It is crazy. No reasonable person puts the burden of one person’s happiness and success on their sixteen-year-old’s ability to make that person’s life magically come together.”

“I mean....it’s not great.”

“Unfortunately, that’s not how I saw it back then. I just tried everything I could to keep Maya afloat and find out what she wanted so I could find a way to give it to her. I dragged Farkle and Charlie into it too.”

“It sounds like it took a while.” 

Pajamas in hand, Riley crosses to the bathroom and steps inside, though she leaves the door cracked and continues talking as she changes. “Til August before junior year.” She confirms. “Our class went on this team-building hiking trip thing right before school started.” 

It’s not the best start to junior year.  Oh, the hiking trip at Mount Sun was supposed to be all fun and games, a nice way for the class to have one last weekend of fun before the stress of AP courses and college prep kicks in.  But that’s not how it’s worked out so far. 

For one thing, it’s hard to have too much fun when both of your parents are there to chaperone. Not that she doesn’t love them and love spending time with them, but the trip was supposed to be her opportunity to have a few days away from the constant prodding about how she’s doing on the Maya front  (and maybe actually get to sit down with Maya, who has been dodging her for most of the summer, and have a real talk about what’s going on with her) not to mention a chance  for her and Charlie to catch up after a month of Skype dates while he went out of the city to visit his dad.  

Neither is very easy with her parents hovering.  

And her plans only get further dashed when, while bringing her bag upstairs to her assigned room, Riley had tripped and wrenched her knee on the steps, leaving her unable to participate in all of the planned activities.  Instead she’s been laid up with ice packs in the window seat of the lobby, watching her friends and classmates complete trust exercises in the front yard, chatting with lodge employees, and reading  once her class had moved on to other activities. 

It’s not the fun weekend she’d been looking forward to, although it improves a little when everyone returns to the lodge for dinner and even more when the chaperones make themselves scarce from the  game room  (and Riley’s trying very hard to pretend she did not hear her parents talking about making use of the lodge hot tub) and a fairly large game of truth or dare gets underway. 

Truth or dare is by no means her favorite party game, but if it lets her actually spend some time with her friends and not sit around by her lonesome, Riley is more than willing to dive in. 

“Truth.” Even if diving in means being at the mercy of Missy Bradford and her devious little smirk. 

“Did you and Charlie send each other any special pictures while he was away this summer?”

Riley refuses to blush at the implication. “Charlie and I don’t need to resort to sex to feel close to each other, if that’s what you’re implying.” From next to her, Charlie rests his hand on top of hers.

“So that’s a no.” 

“Not everyone has to take their clothes off to get boys interested in them.” Maya snarks and Riley feels a rush of optimism for her ability to help her friend; they may not have spent as much time together over the summer but at least she’s still jumping in to defend Riley. 

Missy purses her lips. “That’s not what I’ve heard.”

Yindra and Dave jump in to get the game back on track before things can get too heated, and a few innocuous lighthearted rounds go by before Darby targets Charlie for her turn, and Charlie picks dare..

“I dare you...to kiss someone other than Riley.”

Charlie immediately draws his hand back from Riley’s. 

The room titters; everyone there knows that Charlie was Riley’s first kiss--both the innocent peck of a kindergarten romance and the version that counted when they rekindled things in middle school--and since they’ve only had a few brief periods of turmoil where they weren’t actually dating, it’s generally assumed that neither of them have kissed anyone else. Even if just in the context of a game, this would be a big deal.

Riley trusts Charlie, knows their relationship is strong and comfortable and that a kiss given on a dare is not the same as a kiss you choose to give someone, so she gives him a small smile and nods her assent when he looks over at her, as though to make sure she’s OK with him fulfilling the challenge.

He nods back and returns the smile before turning back and scanning the room.

Riley only starts to feel funny about the whole endeavor when Charlie’s eyes lock with Maya’s. 

Lucas can guess where this is going. After all, it’s hard to forget Auggie’s comments from the confrontation on their first night there. “Tell me he didn’t…”

“Didn’t what?” Riley asks, coming out of the bathroom in her pajamas with her dress bunched in one hand. “Shove his tongue down Maya’s throat? No, it was nothing quite that dramatic.”

Riley sees the whole scene almost as if she’s floating above herself. 

Charlie inches into the middle of the circle of players on his knees and leans across to Maya. He sweeps her hair behind one ear, cupping her cheek. They draw closer together, lips parted, eyes closed.  And then they kiss. Not a brief peck, but a soft, lingering moment. 

Riley can see the way Maya’s shoulders tense. She starts to bring her hand up to Charlie’s chest at the same time that he starts to run his fingers through her hair, although immediately afterwards they both seem to remember where they are and who they’re with and they practically jolt apart. They stare at each other, breathing heavily as they draw their hands back.

The whole room watches, fixated.

It’s obvious, Riley notes while trying to school her emotions, that something more than a kiss for Truth or Dare just happened. There’s a sudden electricity lingering between Maya and Charlie--a connection or chemistry that goes further than the friendship and playful antagonism she’s noted between them before; because if anything they’ve always seemed like brother and sister to her, but what she just saw was definitely not something between faux-siblings. 

Her mind races, trying to process, but she’s all too aware that now is not the time for her to react. Anything other than a calm acceptance will have her classmates labelling her as jealous or juvenile.; more than that, she doesn’t want to make matters with Maya worse by making her think that she’s mad at her. 

So when Charlie finally returns to his spot next to her in the circle, Riley offers what she hopes is a smile of reassurance, and briefly squeezes his hand.

By the time Riley has finished this part of her story, she’s finished putting her clothes away and is glancing around the room. It takes Lucas a moment to realize that she’s trying to find something else to do while they talk; they’re at the part of the story where things are starting to go wrong and she’s maybe nervous of how he’ll react or embarrassed by it all  or she just doesn’t like to talk about it but it’s all manifesting as restless energy, regardless of how drained she was earlier. Or she’s just eager to not have to look directly at him while she talks. 

Either way, she’ll quickly run out of distractions in their small room, and he has a feeling if that happens, she’ll keep carrying the whole weight of her past entirely on her own. 

“It’s still pretty warm out.” He comments off-handedly, glancing towards the door towards their room’s little porch overlooking the beach. “Want to walk while we talk?”

Riley nods. “Yeah. That sounds nice.” 

A quick hop over their porch railing later and they’re down on the beach, walking away from the lights of the various hotels and inns at the top of the beach to the moonlit shoreline, cool sand pressing beneath their toes. Lucas decides that his best choice is to not push Riley further. He waits for her to speak and they walk several minutes in silence before she continues recounting her past. 

“I sat there for a few more rounds of the game, long enough that no one would think I was leaving because of the kiss, before I left saying my knee was hurting and I wanted to go get some more ice and aspirin from my parents and go to bed. I did go up to my room, but I just wanted to think.

“And I thought myself in circles. I knew Charlie wasn’t cheating--he’d been nothing but adoring and faithful our entire relationship--but he and Maya were obviously much closer than I realized and that closeness wasn’t what I thought it was. I couldn’t figure out if they really liked each other or if it was just that physical chemistry some people have...I didn’t know how any of it really came to be or what it meant for me and Charlie. I loved him with my whole heart, but he was clearly attracted on some level to Maya… I finally decided I needed to find my mom and talk to her about it and see what she thought.”

“Topanga, I don’t know what to do.”

Riley stops in her tracks, a few steps up from the bottom of the stairs, when she hears her best friend’s voice.  Before leaving her room she’d heard plenty of classmates returning to their own rooms as curfew was imposed; Maya hadn’t shown up in their shared space, but Riley assumed that was just her friend  doing her rebellion thing, looking around parts of the lodge they weren’t supposed to be in, not her taking the same chance Riley wanted to capitalize on for some private advice with her mother. Topanga was the chaperone spending a little extra time downstairs to make sure no students were breaking curfew and making trouble, so it should have been the perfect opportunity.

“I’m a little lost. Start from the beginning and tell me everything and we’ll see what we can figure out.”

Eavesdropping is wrong. Riley knows that. But she’s been confused about Maya and her behavior for months now, and to throw her kiss with Charlie on top of it...she’ll take any piece of information she can get, however she can get it. She stays frozen on the stairs, out of sight of Maya and her mom.

“Well, you know how Riley and Charlie and Farkle have all been trying to fix me?”

“That’s not what they’re trying to--,”

Maya blows right through whatever assurance Topanga is trying to offer. “Because of that, Charlie and I have been talking a lot more.  Texting and skyping all summer… We’ve gotten way closer. I just… he understands where I’m coming from so much better than Riley or Farkle. His parents had their divorce and things are still really messy there and...it feels like we have this connection.”

“A connection like you and Riley, or more like you and Josh?”

“Like me and Josh.” The words rush out. “I know it’s awful. He’s been Riley’s boyfriend for forever and they’re in love but there’s just something about talking to him and seeing him and being around him that’s so...good. And then tonight we kissed…”

“Oh Maya…”

“Not like that! The class was playing truth or dare, and Charlie got dared to kiss someone other than Riley, and Riley was right there and she told him it was OK so he started to look around the room and his eyes landed on mine and for a moment it felt like we were the only two people in the room. We kissed and it was like this fire ignited in my chest, it felt so good. I’ve never had a kiss feel like that. And I know he felt something too… But I just feel so awful. 

“I know nobody was cheating or breaking trust or anything but I know Riley and I know she only thought it was OK for him to do the dare because she thought the kiss wouldn’t mean anything, but then it was this amazing kiss and there were sparks and my stupid crush that I already felt horrible about is now this big ball of feelings.” Maya practically spits the word though her voice is starting to become thick with tears. “And I can’t ever do anything about them, even if Charlie feels the same way, because he’s Riley’s boyfriend. If they break up it’s not like they’ve only been on a date or two. They’ve been together for years, and Riley loves him so much, so I would never be able to be with him. 

“And I know I have to be OK with that because that’s life and that’s always been the way my life goes anyways so I shouldn’t be surprised, but...kissing Charlie felt right. It felt so right, and now it all hurts so bad.”

Maya starts to cry. Riley can hear her mom trying to soothe her friend, and pictures her drawing her into her arms to offer comfort. Deciding that she’s heard enough, Riley turns around to hobble up the stairs (hopefully silently), her own heart breaking as she starts to move. 

Whether it’s for her friend’s heartache or some other reason, she’s not entirely sure.

“All of that came as such a shock.” Riley confides. “Maya and Charlie’s relationship had always been...contentious. When he moved back to the city and we started dating she didn’t like that she wasn’t the only person in my world anymore, and he was the sort of guy that was never mean or anything but had this way of casually flaunting things. So they would butt heads a lot, even though over time it got much more good-natured. But they never seemed like they were getting particularly close.”

“I mean, it does sound like there were at least some elements of their relationship that they were hiding from you.” Lucas points out. “If they had been talking all summer and neither of them mentioned it to you...Usually a secret like that is a sign that they know it’s more than just talking and they’re feeling guilty about it.”

Riley nods, crossing her arms over chest. “That’s where I eventually landed after a lot of thought. For whatever reason, they hadn’t wanted me to know the whole picture. And suddenly I had it anyway. But I also knew Maya was trying to hold her feelings back and be a good friend, and Charlie was never the one to initiate the breaks in our relationship, even if it was an issue with him that was causing our problems, so somehow it was up to me to decide what to do.”

There are really only a couple of options that Lucas can see. Either Riley chose to break up with Charlie, fracturing the friend group (it’s only logical that he would drift away from the group without Riley to tether him to the others) or Riley chose to stay with him but it eventually came out that she knew about Maya’s feelings for him, prompting the idea that somehow she’s selfish for putting her own feelings first. Either way, he can see how the emotional fallout from such a choice could start to build the rifts that have been festering for ten years. 

“I didn’t figure out what that was until the next morning.”

Breakfast is...awkward, to say the least. 

Riley, Charlie, Maya, and Farkle have grabbed food from the buffet and settled in the far corner of the dining hall, away from everyone else. No one is talking. Well… no one but Farkle is talking. Which might be a product of the fact that he appears to be the only one there who has gotten any sleep, or because he’s never been one able to stew in an uncomfortable silence.

“I wonder if they’ll cancel today’s hike or have us go anyways.” He comments, glancing towards a window where rain is pounding against the glass. “I’m not sure everyone brought rain gear. The forecast when we were packing said that today would be partly cloudy.”

Nobody answers him. He continues talking anyways. 

“Of course, if we really wanted to know when it was going to rain we could get a bee colony and observe their behavior. A study in China determined that honeybees increase their activity and production the day before a rainstorm. They think that the bees are able to register changes in barometric pressure and in the….”

Riley feels slightly bad tuning out her longtime friend while she considers the conundrum sitting across her shoulders, but she reasons that finding a solution to the emotional entanglements that leaves everyone in her friend group content is more important to her than the activity patterns of bees.  So she ignores Farkle’s nervous babble and attempts to subtly study her friends, hoping a solution will jump out at her.

She starts with her boyfriend.

Charlie sits across from her. He’s resting his elbows on the table as he eats. He’s pale, the way he gets when he doesn’t get enough sleep (last year when his parents were renegotiating their custody agreement he had seemed to be a permanent shade of milk), and he’s mostly just staring at his plate. When he does look up, he’s very deliberate with his gaze, Riley thinks.; his eyes go to either the window or to her. Nowhere else. 

Then there’s Maya.

Her best friend looks absolutely miserable. Puffy, bloodshot eyes, hair up in a  messy knot instead of one of her normal intricate styles...she’s stirring her oatmeal and letting it drip from the spoon back into the bowl rather than eating it. Riley doesn’t know what advice her mother gave Maya after she had made her escape, but she knows that Maya has been silently gluing herself to her side this morning, distancing herself from Charlie as much as possible. 

The pair are very blatantly avoiding each other,  but when the boys had been coming downstairs that morning Riley had seen a moment where their eyes had met. It had been less than a second before they looked away and Charlie had hurried to reach Riley and greet her with their normal kiss on the cheek, and she’s fairly certain they haven’t looked at one another since. Which tells a story in and of itself. 

Riley thinks. Even though they hadn’t acted on anything outside of the game last night, it’s clear that something is happening between Maya and Charlie. She knows Maya felt whatever connection they had come to life when they kissed for the dare, and based on the way he’s acting, it’s probably reasonable to guess that the same is true for Charlie. At the same time, she knows Charlie has heard her parents’ story and spotted all the parallels it has to their relationship; he’s said more than once how great it is that they’ve found each other as early as her parents had and had their example to guide them, and if she lets him, Riley figures he’ll treat this problem as their own version of her father’s ski lodge affair--a hurdle, but something they can get past with a little angst.

Meanwhile it looks like Maya is willing to break her own heart further to let Riley and Charlie stay together. And Riley can only imagine what path that anguish will lead Maya down.

The very thought grabs at her heart. She’s supposed to be helping Maya find her hope and joy again, not making things worse. She’s supposed to be finding Maya a win.

Just like that, Riley knows what she has to do.

“The whole thing is actually really strange, because honeybees hoard resources and they wouldn’t need to--,”

“Farkle,” Riley interrupts his impromptu lecture softly. She pushes her plate away, and rests her hands, one on top of the other, on the table. “Can you give us a moment, please?”

Or, Lucas realizes, there was a third option. One where Riley ignored her own feelings in favor of following an extreme version of her dad’s ridiculous advice, and gave Maya something that she wanted. He can honestly say he’s dumbfounded. For one, because he truly can’t fathom that anyone would be quite so selfless as to do that, but for another, Riley doesn’t exactly sound sad or like she regrets doing it--she’s just...tired. 

“I don’t get it.” He says without much thought. “Did you realize right then that you didn’t love him anymore? Or that Maya’s happiness was actually the secret to stopping global warming or something?”

“What?” Riley stops and looks at him, furrowing her brow.

“I’m sorry I just...I can understand breaking up with someone you still love even though you know he’d stay because you’re pretty sure he has feelings for someone else. Or maybe giving your friend permission to date someone that you don’t love anymore. But I don’t understand giving your friend and your ex of sixty seconds your blessing to explore their feelings. All because your friend hadn’t gotten anything she wanted in a long time and was acting out?”

Riley crosses her arms over her chest, her posture stiffening. Belatedly, Lucas realizes that he’s started passing and sharing judgement, despite the fact that from what he can tell, she doesn’t deserve the judgement and doesn’t need any added pressure coming from him. He opens his mouth to apologize correct himself but Riley beats him to it. 

“I was stuck between two relationships.” She says. She casts her eyes down to the sand, where they stay. “Between two people I loved so much. A guy that could maybe be the person I married one day, and the girl that was my best friend. I didn’t want to lose either of them.”

“Riley…”

Riley starts walking, and Lucas hurries to keep up. “So I started doing the math. The odds of me meeting my soulmate in preschool and dating and marrying him and having kids and everything working out like my parents did...one in a million at best. That’s just not how it happens for people. But the odds of Maya and I staying best friends…? Those were a lot better. I mean, it’s still not super common but there are way more examples of childhood friends going through life together.”

“So you decided to kill two birds with one stone. Dive into what you thought was likely inevitable and break up with Charlie, and do what your dad told you was best and give Maya a reason to hope again by getting her a real chance at something she wanted.” Lucas fills in. “You didn’t want to lose them.”

She nods. “Happy people are less likely to leave. They had feelings for each other, and they weren’t going to do anything about them and eventually they weren’t going to want to deal with how ignoring them felt. Telling Charlie I didn’t love him anymore and giving them the chance to explore their feelings was the best option. And it all worked out. 

“They started dating, Maya straightened herself out... Junior year started and everyone was happy.” 

“Even you?” Lucas probes. Doing something that makes your best friend happy might usually make you feel good, but he has his doubts when that something means breaking up with someone you still have feelings for.

“I was happy for--,” Riley cuts herself off and shakes her head before starting over, a self-correction if Lucas has ever seen one. “I should have been.” She sighs. “I wanted to be. Everyone else was in a really good place, and I put them there which should have felt good but...even though I wanted them to be happy it wasn’t as easy as I thought it would be to watch it play out.”

“So anyway, would you be super mad at me if I skipped out on movie night tonight?” 

Riley doesn’t think much of Maya’s request; her friend hadn’t really said why she needed to miss their sacred tradition of Friday night movies and a sleepover, but she’s sure that whatever the reason, it must be important. They hardly ever cancel. “Of course not. We can hang out tomorrow instead.”

“Well, actually…” Maya hems, but doesn’t get to her actual protest before Charlie bounds up and pulls her into a deep kiss.

Riley quickly turns to her locker to swap the books in her backpack for the ones she’ll need for her weekend homework. The stabbing pain in her heart isn’t anyone’s business but her own, after all. For all Maya and Charlie and everyone else know, she’s thrilled for them. But if she has the option to look away and not plaster a smile on her face while the happy couple engages in the sort of close physical relationship after dating for a week and a half that she and Charlie had never achieved in their many years together… she’s going to take it. 

“Hey, beautiful.”

Riley closes her eyes at Charlie’s greeting. The nickname--and its implications--are just one more thing that he already has with Maya and never had with her. A nasty voice in the back of her head whispers that he’s always liked Maya better, because everyone always does, and that he only had ever asked her out when he moved back because it was the expected, safe option. She refuses to let the tears that prickle her eyelids at the thought move any further. She tells herself it’s not really true. It just feels like it right now because Charlie and Maya are in the honeymoon phase, and everything is more sweeping and romantic then.

“Did you ask her yet?”

“We were just in the middle of that.” Maya says.

“Ask me what?” Riley opens her eyes, finds the happiest ‘Smiley Riley’ expression she can manage and turns around again.  It takes everything in her not to let it falter when she sees how they’ve landed, Charlie standing behind Maya with his arms wrapped around her shoulders while she nuzzles against his neck.

“My stepdad needs to close up his brother’s beach house in the Hamptons since he won’t be back in the States until next year.” Charlie explains. “My family’s heading down tonight to make a weekend of it, and I asked Maya if she could come too, but she said she had to check about missing your movie night before she could say yes.”

Oh. 

Riley’s not sure if it’s her stomach or her heart that plummets through the floor.  Maybe both. Maya wants to cancel their sleepover--the sleepover they’ve only ever cancelled three times since its inception (and two of those times were because someone was in the hospital)--to go on a weekend with Charlie.  They had never cancelled anything with each other because of a boy, and here they are, changing everything once again.

She has to remind herself that this was her idea. She set this in motion and wanted this to happen; she wanted Charlie and Maya together because it meant that everything else would stay the same. And there have been some changes that she hadn’t anticipated and it’s a bit harder than she thought to watch her best friend date the boy she loves but at the heart of it it’s worth it. Because everyone is still there and friends and happy and that has to be the most important thing.  

She forces her smile a little wider. “The Hamptons? Maya you definitely have to go. And bring  a canvas. It’ll be beautiful there right now, I’m sure you’ll see something worth painting.”

“OK. So you were doing everything you could to let them be happy, and somehow that makes you selfish?”

“That part doesn’t come until later.”

“What comes next then?”

“What else? Public humiliation.”

“Riley, let’s just go. There’s no point in you making yourself miserable watching them. We can go back to my place and watch Pixar movies and drink milkshakes.”

Riley presses her lips together at Farkle’s offer. They’re closer than they’ve ever been (between throwing herself deeper into her school work and clubs to limit her time around the happy couple, and them sneaking off during the day and going on date after date, she and Farkle have been spending a big chunk of their time together) and he’s like another brother to her but their newly deepened relationship isn’t without its friction. As observant as he is, it hadn’t taken him long to figure out that she hadn’t been totally honest with Charlie and Maya about her feelings, and after he heard her out to get her reasoning and realized he wasn’t going to convince her to tell everyone the truth, he’s spent the last month and a half doing everything he can to distract her and make things a little bit easier. She loves him for it, but sometimes it’s clear by his suggestions that he doesn’t approve or understand. 

“I can’t just leave.” She protests softly, tearing her eyes away from where Maya and Charlie are dancing. “It’s homecoming. I’m on the committee that put the dance together. I have to be here.” 

Farkle raises an eyebrow, glancing around the decorated gymnasium; the dance is in full swing and everyone looks quite entertained and happy. “It doesn’t look like there’s going to be a streamer crisis anytime soon. And if there is I’m pretty sure the rest of the committee can handle it.” 

“Farkle, leaving early looks weird. People will have questions...it’ll be better if I just tough it out and stay.” She squirms a little under his discerning gaze, but relaxes a little when he reaches over and grabs her hand.

“At least come dance with me instead of standing here and torturing yourself.”

Riley nods, and he pulls her off to a far corner of the dance floor.

Some time later, Riley is chatting with Maya near the punchbowl, as Farkle and Charlie have gone to the small backstage area to get the sound system ready for the homecoming court announcements, and she almost feels relaxed; it’s easier when it’s just the two of them. 

“My mom’s been on my back all week about going to get a new coat before the weather changes,” Maya says, sipping from her punch. “So I was thinking we should totally have a girls day. It feels like it’s been forever since we’ve gone all out.”

Riley swallows back her instinctive response--that they haven’t gone out because Maya has been cancelling to spend time with Charlie--with a smile. “I love it! Where do you want to go?”

“I was thinking we go for the full makeover. Hair, clothes, the works.”

“Sounds great. New week, new us.”

“I’m just saying,” a voice filters out of the speakers on top of the music, “That you and Maya should tone down the PDA a little.”

Riley swallows around a suddenly dry mouth. It doesn’t even take her two words to recognize Farkle’s voice even with the music still blasting, and she quickly spots a handful of her classmates stop dancing and look around in confusion. 

“Why? We’re just happy together.” Charlie’s voice chimes in, and if Riley weren’t so paralyzed with fear and disbelief she’d notice the familiar stab of pain at the reminder of the differences between her relationship with Charlie and Maya’s. 

She can’t believe that Farkle is taking it upon himself to try and talk to Charlie about this. She can’t believe he’s doing it in public. She can’t believe that he’s apparently forgotten what happens when you turn a microphone on.

“Because…” Farkle draws out. “Not everyone is comfortable with it.”

“You’ve never seemed uncomfortable before, man.”

“Not me. Riley.”

The longer the conversation goes on, the more students stop their dancing. Maya crinkles her brow and stares at Riley. 

“Why would Riley have a problem with me and Maya?” Charlie asks.

And naturally, the DJ seems to catch on that something is happening and turns off the music the same moment that Farkle gives his answer. “Because she’s still in love with you.”

Lucas thinks back to his high school years. He thinks about his fellow classmates and his friends and his secrets, and although nothing that he kept to himself was quite so personally devastating as a secret love for someone close to him, and he wasn’t as close to anyone as Riley appears to have been with her friends, he’s not sure that he would have coped with any of his secrets being revealed to the entire school. Especially by someone that he trusted. 

Part of him growing up and letting go of his anger towards his family and becoming the sort of person that he could be proud of had been learning to be more open. Not to forget his past experiences but to let the past be the past, and look at everything else through a new lens. To look for the best in people. And he’d like to think that he’s come a long way with that but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t know the reality of things. 

People can be cruel. Teenagers especially so. And to be forced into such a vulnerable and open position without warning, around people that probably wouldn’t know better than to find the spectacle entertaining...he can’t imagine how much that would throw a person.

Especially someone who’s been working so hard to make sure no one knew the truth.

“Riley, I--...” He means to offer comfort, but cuts himself off almost before he starts; what is there to say exactly? It’s not like there’s any set of words that can undo the past or take away the hurt she felt in that moment. 

If Riley hears his aborted comment, she doesn’t say anything. “So I’m standing there, stunned. Just completely in shock. Not only because my feelings had just been broadcast to the entire school, but I couldn’t believe that Farkle would even share them with Charlie in the first place. I know everyone is staring, but I’m so floored that I can’t even think about what to do. And all of that would have been bad enough, but the night wasn’t over yet.”

“There’s more?” Now Lucas knows he wouldn’t have coped. 

“Riley, what’s Farkle talking about?”

Riley blinks in the face of Maya’s question. She can tell the eyes of her classmates are all locked on her and it’s so silent that it feels like the air is being sucked out of the room, but there’s only one thought running through her mind. ‘They know.’ It loops, over and over, getting tossed around as everything seems to tunnel out around her. 

“Riley!” Maya shoves at her shoulder and the world snaps back into focus. “What’s Farkle talking about? What does he mean, you’re still in love with Charlie?” 

There’s no getting out of it really. Oh, she could try to lie, to tell everyone that Farkle had misconstrued what she had said and this is all one big misunderstanding, but it’s not like anyone would actually believe her at this point. No one’s going to believe that the resident genius didn’t comprehend what someone was trying to tell him to the point that he spread completely false information. And really, the only reason she had gotten away with lying about her feelings in the first place is because she had gotten to plan what she wanted to say and how she wanted to say it; she’s an actress when she can prepare and anticipate but spontaneity is not her friend. 

Riley takes a deep breath, steeling herself, before facing Maya and giving her answer. “Exactly what it sounds like. I’ve been keeping it to myself because it’s not anyone else’s business or problem but...I still love Charlie.”

“That’s not what you said when you broke up with him at the lodge.” Maya protests, her brow furrowing deeper. 

“I know it’s not exactly…” Riley drops off as Charlie comes to a stop in front of them breathing heavily, having rushed from behind the staging area. Farkle, not known for his athletic prowess, is several feet behind. 

He says her name, but nothing else. For a moment they’re just staring at one another, and it’s almost the same as the quiet moments of comfortable tension in their relationship where everything just felt closer. More connected and intense. There’s a split second where Riley thinks that maybe there is still something there between them, in spite of the last couple of months. But the spell breaks just as quickly when Maya speaks again. 

“I don’t understand. At the lodge you said your relationship had run its course. You said he and I should explore our feelings.”

“Maybe we should take this some place a little more private.” Farkle urges shortly after his arrival, glancing amongst the trio and then crowd, rapt with attention. 

Maya ignores him. “Why would you say all that if it wasn’t true?”

“Because…”Riley hedges for a moment, trying to decide how honest she should be...how much detail she should share. But she quickly realizes that there’s not much use in hiding anything. Maybe things will be less awkward and horrible if they knew she had done this to make them happy. “I thought things would be better for everyone if I stepped back. The two of you had some kind of connection, whether you wanted to admit to it or not,  and I didn’t want that to come between us. I’d much rather have you guys as my friends than to lose one of you--or both of you--because I was keeping you from something you wanted. I thought that my feelings would fade, and as long as you two were happy, whatever I went through would be worth it.”

“Then why have Farkle come talk to me?” Charlie asks, finally finding his voice again. With more words spoken, Riley can hear the taut edge in his tone--the confusion, but also the anger.

She takes a step back. “I didn’t want Farkle to tell you anything.”

“But he did.”

“Guys,” Farkle steps closer to the group, gesturing between them, “don’t you think we should at least go out to the hall?”

They ignore the suggestion, staring at each other for a moment longer, uncertainty painted across their faces. Riley wouldn’t be sure that any of them were even breathing except she can feel the familiar tightness of inhaling through anxiety in her chest. She’s not sure what she expects to happen, or even what she wants to happen at this point; she can’t even begin to figure out what her next step would be to fix the mess that’s been created in the last few minutes, and although her mind is racing, all she can do is stand there and wait for someone else to step up. 

“Riley, you’re so special, and we were always good together. You’ll always be important to me.” Charlie says after a deep breath. Next to him, Maya tenses and Riley finds it even harder to take a breath. It’s entirely possible that Charlie’s next words are going to change everything between the group; it’s exactly what she’d wanted to avoid.“But when you broke up with me and told me to move on...that’s what I did.  Dating Maya has been amazing.” He reaches over, weaving his fingers through Maya’s. “We’re really happy together, going in a great direction...I don’t want to move backwards.”

“Riles, you know how much I love you, and I hate seeing you hurt,” Maya adds on, “but we didn’t ask you to step back for us.. And now that you have and we’ve been together for a few months…”

Riley knows what happens next sets the tone for their friendship. She can give into every ounce of the heartache that is the guy she loves saying in front of everyone that getting together again with her would be moving backwards--all but confirming that he thinks things with Maya are better than they ever were with her--and cry and make a scene and make it all but inevitable that things will change beyond recognition or repair. Or, she can go with the numb shock of it all. Stay calm. And maybe it’ll be clear that she’s upset right now, but at least it will leave the door open for things to stay mostly the same. 

“I would never ask you to give up the relationship you’ve found.” Riley jumps in as Maya trails off; her words fall flat, and even when she makes herself smile she know it sounds forced and strained. She presses on anyways. “That’s why I didn’t want anyone to know. It’s my thing,  not anyone else’s. You guys are happy, and that’s what’s most important.”

“After that...Farkle and I weren’t talking. I was upset he had violated my trust and he...was not used to getting things wrong or messing up in such a big way so I’m pretty sure he didn’t know how to apologize. So things were bad in that direction and probably even more awkward with Maya and Charlie…”

“The happy couple didn’t handle things very well?” Lucas has to think that a trio of well-adjusted adults would have trouble maintaining their relationships in a similar love triangle situation, so for a group of hormonal teenagers it would have to be next to impossible. 

“They weren’t sure if they needed to change how they acted around me, so they tried but that was changing a big part of their relationship which made things weird between them. Plus, I think all three of us were worried that the wrong comment or nudge or whatever would give someone the wrong idea or hurt someone so we were all tip-toeing around each other, and I don’t know if you’ve noticed or not but Maya doesn’t do all that great with awkward.” 

Lucas thinks back to the various derisive and sarcastic comments he’s heard the blonde make in response to an uncomfortable situation. “She doesn’t seem to.”

“It didn’t take much more than a week for her to hit her limit and take matters into her own hands.”

“Riles, can we talk about the Charlie thing?”

Riley is so taken aback by Maya’s question, coming in the middle of their art class that she drops her paintbrush. It’s the first time since homecoming that anyone has addressed what had happened directly and she’d been mildly hopeful that the radio silence would continue until a long time had passed; maybe several years down the line they’d be able to have an open discussion about the whole thing but she knows how precarious things are between them right now and even one comment could damage things further. Thankfully, Maya continues talking without waiting for a response, and she gets to find out more before she commits to anything one way or the other. 

“It’s just that...this is weird for all of us, ya know? You’re like my sister and I know you said that you’re OK with Charlie and me being together because you’re like, the greatest friend a girl could ask for, and the last thing me or Charlie want to do is do anything that hurts you, but we’re just...not really sure where the line is right now? Like I said, we don’t want you to be uncomfortable but as a couple we’ve always been more…” Maya shifts in her seat, tilting her head back and forth as she hems over her answer.

When two seconds go by and Maya still hasn’t finished her sentence, Riley takes the hint. “Physical?”

Maya snaps her fingers and points. “Exactly! It’s not like that’s the only aspect to our relationship but it is a big one, and I know you want us to be happy, but at the same time, it’s like I said, we don’t want to hurt you. So I guess what I’m asking is…”

“Maya, you and Charlie should have exactly the relationship you want.” Riley presses her lips together, then reaches over and rests a hand on top of her friend’s. “Don’t worry about me.” After all, she thinks as Maya grins and thanks her for being so understanding, and she bends down to retrieve her paintbrush, what’s one more sacrifice to keep your friends?

“She actually went to you, barely a week after she found out that you still loved Charlie, and asked if you were OK with them making out in front of you?” Lucas can hardly believe what he’s hearing. “And she was your best friend? How were you OK with that?” 

“At the time I thought I had to be.” Riley answers. As she walks she reaches up and takes down her ponytail, starting to braid her hair instead. “Remember? According to everyone my job as her friend was to give and do everything I could to make her happy and help her grow. How I felt was never a part of the equation.” 

Right. Lucas had almost forgotten that particular mountain of bad advice. How parents could advise that level of self-sacrifice to their child...even if Riley had been misinterpreting what they had been saying, shouldn’t they have stepped in and clarified at some point? Or maybe comforted her and given some advice?  Like when they saw her making herself completely miserable? His esteem for the elder Matthews, not particularly high to begin with, drops down a little further. 

“That said, it didn’t take me very long to realize that as much as I wanted to take all of my feelings about the situation and shove them into a box at the back of my closet where I would never have to deal with them, that’s not really something a person can do. Or at least that I can do.

“I wanted to be OK with Maya and Charlie being together, but even in spite of him saying flat out that his feelings for me had changed and putting that closure between us, I still felt something for him. It hurt to see them together and how different he was with Maya. I tried my best to swallow it down and hide it but I wasn’t very good at it and between that and the ongoing mess with Farkle… There was so much tension that it was easier for everyone if I limited my time with them.” Riley ties off her braid, letting it rest on her shoulder. 

“Wait, really?” 

“Alanis Morissette eat your heart out, right?” Riley huffs. “All I wanted to do was make sure my friends were happy enough to stick around and all I did was make it too painful for me to stay.” 

Lucas frowns. Sure, the choice that she made to break up with Charlie in the first place had been a mistake but it wasn’t the only factor that made things hard. From the way she tells the story, the others hardly sound blameless, not from his perspective. “And none of them saw a problem with how they were acting or tried to fix it?”

“They were getting along fine without me. I mean, every once in a while Maya and I would try and hang out on our own but things were still awkward. The more we were apart, the clearer it was that we didn’t have as much in common as we used to and we both felt like we had to be careful with what we said… so that didn’t last very long. By Thanksgiving or so I was pretty much entirely on my own.”

“What do you mean on your own?”

“I was a goofily optimistic, klutzy kid. Whose dad taught at her school. There weren’t a ton of kids lining up around the block to be friends with me. The ones who didn’t ignore me were happy I had lost the protection of Maya and Charlie.”

Lucas doesn’t like the sound of that at all. “Protection?”

“Farkle and I were easy targets for bullies and mean girls. But being friends with Maya and Charlie gave us a layer of protection, because Maya was tough enough to scare most everyone and Charlie was one of those guys that the whole school liked so nobody really wanted to upset him.”

“So what? You drifted apart and it was open season on Riley?”

“For a few kids, yeah.” It sounds so matter-of-fact and nonchalant coming out of Riley’s mouth that Lucas can’t tell if the anger simmering in his chest is an overreaction. 

“And nobody did anything?”

“Most people didn’t know. It was mostly texts and emails. Catty comments in the girls’ bathroom. Nothing super noticeable. It would have been completely manageable if I’d been in a better place. Anyways, we’re getting off track. That stuff was a factor, not a major point in the story.”

The hasty dismissal tells Lucas that his anger is not misplaced, and it likely wouldn’t have been manageable, whether or not she’d had the support of friends, but he knows better than to press the issue further. “OK. So it’s Thanksgiving, and your friend group is pretty non-existent.”He recaps. “Where were your parents during all of that? I would have thought they’d offer all the advice they could to try and help you keep everyone together.”

“Talking to them never really worked. My mom was super busy between work and Auggie and being Maya’s go to adult for advice, so every time I managed to get her alone for five minutes, something more important came up and she dashed off with a promise to make it up to me later. 

“And my dad...he was so reluctant to discuss anything about boys and my dating of them that we only had one real conversation about it and even that was less than helpful.”

“Riley, a moment please?” 

Riley stops packing up her books the moment her dad makes the request, while everyone else filters out of the classroom. He hasn’t kept her behind after class since middle school unless she’s left her lunch money at home and they’ve already had lunch today, so she’s not sure what he could possibly want. They haven’t had any papers or tests lately that she might have done poorly on.

When the room is empty, her dad sits on the edge of his desk, directly in front of her usual seat. “You know, as a teacher I hear pretty much all the gossip that circulates around this school. Not to mention I have students that come to me for advice when they aren’t sure what to do with the problems they’re dealing with.”

“I know.” Riley laughs nervously. Between her mom and Maya and the school’s gossip network he’d probably heard every last detail about her breakup with Charlie and the subsequent homecoming fiasco a few weeks ago. Does he want her to talk about that with him? Not that she’s completely opposed to getting some parental advice on the matter--she’s felt completely lost for a while now and could really use a little guidance--but her dad never wants to talk about this sort of problem with her. 

“And I can’t help but notice there’s been a massive change with you recently.” He continues, and Riley feels a bit better about her chances; sure they don’t normally talk about boys and those sorts of feelings, but if he took notice of her struggles, maybe he was swallowing back his reservations to try and be there for her. Isn’t that what fathers do? 

“Well, things have been--,”

“So what’s going on? Why aren’t you spending time with Maya anymore?”

Just as quickly the hope stoking in her heart plummets down to her feet. She’s so stunned that that’s her dad’s question she can’t even think of an answer. 

He only lets them sit in silence for a few moments. “Look Riley, I can’t pretend I understand what made you decide that breaking up with Charlie and telling him to explore his feelings for Maya was the right thing to do; that wasn’t really what I meant when I said you needed to find a way to help her be happy again. That said, what’s done is done.  Part of growing up is learning to live with the decisions we make. You can’t turn back the clock just because something is harder than you thought it would be.” 

Riley knows that. She doesn’t want to turn the clock back. She just wants to know how to get past it all and stop hurting, but she can’t figure out how to explain that to her dad. 

“The good news is Maya’s attitude has really turned around.” Her dad continues. “She’s doing good in school again, talking about what colleges she might apply to. However misguided it was, it looks like this was the win she needed. But she’s still hurting. None of it feels any good to her without her best friend by her side.”

“So, let me make sure I’m understanding this.” Lucas shakes his head as if to clear it; it’s not that he can’t believe that Riley’s dad would ignore her feelings in such a blatant way--almost every interaction this trip has been a demonstration of his skill in that area--but it just feels jarring to have it laid out that he’s been doing it since she was so much younger, and to hear how it chipped away at Riley’s picture of him. “Your dad hears the whole story, sees that you’re having a hard time, and sits you down to tell you to suck it up and go back to Maya?”

Riley nods. “That’s the way things were. If we fought, I apologized. If she got into trouble, I got her out of it. If she liked something I had, I shared it with her. So if she wanted her best friend around, I was supposed to find a way to make it work.

“I could tell my dad was let down that he was even having to talk to me about it, which was the last thing I wanted. Plus I was so lonely and tired, I thought that going back to my friends and dealing with a little heartache would be better than having no friends and disappointing my parents. I was the good kid. I’d never gone against what they wanted before and it didn’t seem like the time to start. So I told him I’d be better, screwed on my smile and put everything I had into being the only Riley anyone seemed to care about--the happy, helpful doormat. I told Farkle all was forgiven, told Charlie the time apart had done wonders and I was over him, apologized to Maya for abandoning her and went back to the old routine of jumping for her before she could even think to ask me to. As far as everyone else was concerned, the drama was over. All was well.”

Lucas can practically hear the narration continue in his head. But all was not well. Nothing Riley has just described to him was remotely healthy. He knows because he’s done it. He knows how ignoring everything he was feeling and pretending to be a person he wasn’t had chipped away at him and left him a mess that he’d barely been able to hold together long enough to make it to college and get away. 

And Riley is such a people pleaser she had probably thrown herself into the effort with 310%, no matter how hard it was to do so. 

“How long did that go on for?”

“A few months. I slowly realized that I was the only one really trying--no one noticed that I was faking everything, or how much I was constantly giving up or setting aside to make sure everyone else got what they wanted, and never getting anything more than a smile and a pat on the shoulder in return. Even the bullies realized no one was going to notice or care, so they kept at it. Still, I ran myself into the ground, trying to convince myself that I just wasn’t meeting everyone’s standards, and if I just pushed myself a little harder and gave just a little bit more, I would and things would get better. The only time I ever got to let it all go and breathe was if I was alone, and every time I did, it was harder to put the act back on.”

“Did you ever think about not putting it back on?”

“Not until April.”

“What happened then?”

Don’t you think it’s a bit pathetic to still be clinging to Maya and Charlie? It’s not like they actually want you around.

No one wants you around.

Not even daddy talks to you anymore. 

Who can blame him with how obnoxious you are? I’m sure your parents only let you stay with them because they can’t kick you out until you’re 18.

Riley clamps her teeth onto her inner lip as she scrolls through the latest additions to the group text she can’t seem to escape no matter how many numbers she blocks on her phone. They’re hardly the nastiest she’s ever been sent, but the harshness hardly seems to matter anymore; these days every comment seems to chip past her defenses easier than the last. Reading each word hurts, and even after she closes the messages and puts her phone down they keep running through her head. 

She never gets a break anymore. 

If she’s not dealing with the texts and the notes shoved in her locker and the not-so-accidental  shoves, elbows, and trips in a crowded hallway, she’s dealing with the drama of Maya and Charlie. They have officially exited the honeymoon phase of their relationship and are starting to face some challenges. And Riley gets put in the middle of every spat. 

Charlie needs insights into Maya’s personality. Maya needs someone to vent at. They both need help arranging grand gestures of apology. Riley provides it all with every ounce of sympathy she can drudge up, no matter how difficult. And boy is it difficult.

She’d never realized how needy her friends were until she was in the position of needing some support of her own. Now it’s hard not to  notice  how little they seem to care about how she’s doing.

After that, every interaction is harder and seems to drain her more, to the point where she’s taken to sneaking off in the afternoons and studying at a coffee shop near Bryant Park, a journey no one else is likely to make,  just to get a couple hours away from it all every day. She does her homework in peace, away from self-centered friends and nasty classmates (at least, if she turns her phone off) and it gives her just enough relief to be able to go back to her home and keep up the act that she’s just as happy, just as helpful, just as unaware of the imbalance in all her relationships (with both friends and family) as always. 

Riley’s settled in at her favorite table for one such afternoon, having been working for a good hour already, when the bell above the door tinkles. She doesn’t pay much attention to the customers that enter; the cafe is packed to the brim with students either avoiding their work or getting a caffeine fix prior to a late class as it is almost every day and she’s gotten quite adept at ignoring the chaos until it interferes with her work. 

Only…

“You think you’re so cute, don’t you?”

The laugh of blonde walking past her table to join the line of patrons sounds incredibly familiar. 

“That’s what you said last night.”

And so does the boy who has an arm slung over her shoulder.

“That was about your butt, not your face.” 

Reaching behind himself, he catches her hand just before it can land a playful slap on the aforementioned butt. “So you only want me for my body, is that it?”

“That and what you can do with it.” 

The blonde stretches up on her tiptoes, pulling him into a searing kiss, just as reality gives way to Riley’s shock.

The girl is Maya. But the boy is not Charlie.

Lucas is almost positive that he hasn’t missed the bit of the story where Maya and Charlie decided they weren’t meant to be together. And he’s certain that if their relationship was less serious and the type where they were open and free to see other people that Riley would have mentioned it before now. Which means that whatever was happening in the coffee shop, it was behind Charlie’s back, in spite of all the feelings professed and happiness claimed. “Do I even want to know who she was with?”

“Probably not but it’s part of the story so…”

Riley rushes to close her textbook and gather her things to make a hasty exit. She does not want to see anymore or even worse, have them see her; if they realize they’ve been caught, there will surely be a scramble to make her understand the situation and to convince her to keep the secret and she’s not ready to deal with that. She’s not sure she’ll ever be ready to deal with that. 

Unfortunately, the universe does not agree with her plan.

In her hurry to get her belongings together, her elbow collides with her tea, sending the cup to the floor (with what feels like a surprisingly loud crash for a paper travel mug). Several patrons turn to the source of the noise, including Maya who immediately starts to fluster. 

“Riley!” Her eyes widen and she jumps away from her companion. They both rush to speak at the same time. “This isn’t what it looks like!”

“What are you doing here?”

Riley is fairly certain that there’s no alternative explanation for what she’s seen that would excuse Maya and her Uncle Josh making out in a coffee shop when earlier in the day she and Charlie were making moon eyes in the cafeteria and feeding each other bites of slightly stale cafeteria cake. She’s never been one for confrontation with her friends or family, but the heat of frustration and upset rises before she can even think to swallow it. “I study here where I can get some peace and quiet. I’d ask why you come here but I make it a point not to waste people’s time by asking questions I already know the answers to.” She turns back to the table pulling several napkins from the dispenser to try and deal with the mess. The sooner she cleans up the spill, the sooner she can leave and not have some sort of embarrassing emotional reaction. 

“Riles, this isn’t what it looks like.” Maya repeats her initial insistence. 

“Are you still dating Charlie?”

“Wh--I--that’s--,”

“It’s a simple question Maya.” Riley cuts off her sputtering, turning back around. She can practically feel her frustration and anger sparking in her eyes, something she normally does everything she can to tamp down. She finds she doesn't care.“Are you still dating Charlie?”

“Well, yeah but--,”

“Then it’s exactly what it looks like.” 

“That was the last straw for me.”  Riley informs. “I was done. I had given up the boy I loved for Maya, and even though they were supposedly both happy with each other, she turned right around and cheated on him. And because it was with Josh, she didn’t even see it as all that wrong.”

Lucas is beginning to wonder if they’ll run out of beach before the story is over. Every piece of Riley’s tale seems to bring up more questions to unpack than it answers, and he has a feeling they haven’t even reached the climax yet. “Why would it matter that it was Josh instead of someone else?”

Another heavy sigh escapes Riley’s lips. “Ever since they first met, Maya had the biggest crush on Josh. And even though she could be pretty bold and obnoxious about it,  Josh never really shut her down other to bring up their age difference. But as time went on even that got to be less and less firm.”

“Three years is a big gap when you’re still a kid but it just keeps shrinking the older you get.” Lucas nods, familiar with the argument.

She nods. “The attraction was definitely reciprocal. And they had an unspoken agreement that neither of them were supposed to just wait around and not have a love life, but if, when the age gap wasn’t so...problematic, they were both available, they were probably going to give things a shot.”

Which still doesn’t explain how the fact that it was with Josh made Maya think she had some sort of pass on the cheating thing. The key word Lucas could pick out of Riley’s explanation of the agreement was ‘available’, which Maya clearly wasn’t. “How does that make it OK for her to date two people without both of them knowing and agreeing?”

“Come on, Riles. You could at least talk to me. Let me explain.”

Riley spins on her heel, whirling to face Maya; she and Josh have been chasing after her since Riley had stormed out of the cafe, some five blocks thus far, trying to get her to stop and listen to whatever it is they have to say. Riley can’t say that she’s particularly interested in the explanation right now, but she also knows that Maya isn’t going to give up her pursuit any time soon, and she had been so flustered upon her exit that she hadn’t thought to do the sensible thing and get on the subway or hail a cab where they wouldn’t be able to immediately follow. “Fine.” She bites out, crossing her arms over her chest. “Explain.”

“Josh and I...it’s totally unexpected. We only got together last week.” 

Riley blinks, uncertain as to what in those two sentences was supposed to make her understand the situation. Maya hesitates but keeps talking.

“There just hasn’t been a good chance for me to talk to Charlie yet.”

“That’s funny, I seem to remember you being with him before classes, study hall, lunch, PE...I wonder if any of those times would have given you the opportunity to bring something like this up? Or, and I’m just throwing things out here, what about right now? I mean, surely if you stopped shoving your tongue down my Uncle’s throat you could find the time to sit down with  your boyfriend and tell him that your feelings have changed.”

“Riley, that’s not fair.” Josh jumps in.

Maya nods, continuing after him quickly. “It’s not that easy. Charlie and I have been together a long time, I can’t just break up with him out of the blue. He deserves better than that.”

Riley doesn’t even know where to begin with that. The belief  that the few months Maya and Charlie have been dating could be considered a long time...the idea that carrying on a secret relationship with someone else is somehow kinder than breaking up with a person...the light insinuations about Riley’s own break up with Charlie...it all flabbergasts her to the point of stunned silence, which Maya seems to take as the dawning of Riley’s understanding, and she’s more than happy to keep talking. 

“So it’s not that we’re trying to have this secret affair or anything. I just need a little time to figure out how to tell him in a way that won’t hurt him. It’s not like I don’t care about him. I’ve been really happy with him while we’ve been together--he’s a great guy and he  was exactly what I needed to get me through until--,”

Maya cuts herself off, but all it takes is a glance down to her hand, still interwoven with Josh’s, for Riley to fill in the blanks. He was exactly what I needed to get me through until Josh and I could be together. Whatever Maya’s feelings for Charlie are, they don’t compare to her long-harbored feelings for Josh. When the time came and opportunity rose up  Charlie was ultimately nothing more than a placeholder for her.

Riley can barely swallow around the rock that forms in her throat. “I have to go.”

“Wait! But Riley--,”

Riley ignores their duet of protests. “Good luck with your new relationship.”  The words don’t come out happy, enthusiastic, or anything remotely resembling an actual congratulatory message, but Riley’s not sure if she means them at all or is just habitually wishing them well so she doesn’t correct herself or add anything else, instead turning and stepping off the curb to hail a --thankfully empty--approaching taxi. She gets in quickly, shutting the door in Maya’s face and rattling off her address to the driver. It’s nearing dinner time so even if her study time hadn’t been interrupted and her sanctuary invaded, she’d need to be thinking about heading home anyways; she can only hope that Maya will take her fast exit as a sign to stay away, and that her parents will, for once, be understanding.

“I’m guessing they weren’t.” 

“It went better than I thought it would.” Riley shrugs. The answer doesn’t give Lucas much hope that things are about to take a turn for the better. “I had a few days of quiet. My parents didn’t sit down and talk to me about what was going on or anything, but they also didn’t make me see Maya or Josh either. It’s stupid looking back on it but even that little bit of inaction on their part was enough to give me hope that they were at least somewhat on my side; they knew what was going on so it seemed like maybe they were accepting my feelings about everything, even if they weren’t actually trying to help me through it.”

If nothing else, the fact that Riley had ever seen this bare minimum of effort--that doesn’t even really seem like much of an effort at all--as them being accepting spoke volumes about their relationship and how they had been treating her. Only there’s no good way for Lucas to say that without coming off at least somewhat judgemental of Riley that he can find, so he once again stays quiet. 

“It was a different story once Maya came clean and broke up with Charlie.”

“How so?” 

“Nobody liked that she had cheated on him. And you’ve seen how the Matthews’ act with people they disagree with.”

Lucas nods.

“Ending the situation with Charlie and getting his forgiveness got rid of that issue and repositioned her halo. She had done what she needed to do to be happy and made things right so to speak. Me being upset about it regardless of that was the only thing keeping things from going back to 100% normal.”

“That doesn’t even remotely begin to--,”

“‘Riley, we let you have your tantrum but you’re dragging it out a bit long, don’t you think?’ ‘Maya’s your best friend. Can’t you see it’s hurting her that you’re not happy for her?’ ‘It’s time to stop acting like a child and be reasonable.’” Riley cuts him off, parroting the words with such precision and bitterness that it’s clear these are very specific, very real examples of things people--not just people but her family--had said to her. “Maya was the priority. She was the mature one who had earned her feelings and I was the kid, who didn’t understand the depth of what they were talking about  and acting out because I wasn’t getting my way.

“The longer I stood my ground and didn’t crawl back, begging for her to forgive and accept me, the harder it was to deal with anyone. My parents especially. They made their disappointment in me very clear, and didn’t bother to even try and hear where I was coming from. All that mattered was that I had stopped prioritizing my friendship with Maya over everything else and Maya was unhappy, so I was in the wrong.”

Lucas doesn’t even realize his indignation has made him stop walking until Riley turns around to face him, brow furrowed. “But you were unhappy too.” He protests. “And you were their daughter. Not Maya. What made them prioritize her feelings over yours?” He doesn’t expect Riley to have an answer for him, not really, but it’s such a foreign concept to him; as hard as his parents were to deal with and as much as they didn’t really consider his feelings on anything, they also never would have put anyone ahead of him except for themselves.

“They saw her as another daughter. And to them this was my big rebellion. They raised me to be the best parts of them put together. Smart, strong, loyal, hopeful, giving… Cutting ties with Maya went against everything they had told me to be. And if they were upset with me before, it only got worse when I turned down Charlie’s promposal.”

“Charlie’s prompos-- you mean he had the nerve to ask you out again?”

“Our school always had a Spirit Week in the spring that ended with a lip-sync competition. Charlie took the lead for the junior class performance and put together a One Direction number that ended with him asking me to prom and me saying no which nobody, including him, understood.”

“Riley, can we talk?”

Riley stops gathering her books, briefly closing her eyes to steel herself for the pending conversation; she knows exactly what Charlie wants--the same thing he’s wanted for the past two days--and unfortunately her habit of lingering in the safety of a teacher-supervised classroom rather than rushing out to the madness of the hallways with the rest of her fellow students has given him an easy opening that she can’t evade. “There’s nothing to talk about Charlie.” She says, reopening her eyes. She does her best to keep her voice firm, and returns to collecting her things. Maybe if she stays firm and keeps moving it will all be over quickly. “You asked me out. I said no. That’s the end of the discussion.”

“It can’t be.” Charlie protests, He takes a step forward, laying his hand on top of hers to still it. “I know you still have feelings for me.”

It would be easy to melt into his touch. It’s gentle and familiar and everything Riley has been craving for months. She could give in and the entire mess would be done with. It just...wouldn’t be real. 

Her hesitation comes to a grinding halt and she jerks her hand back. “I don’t want to be with anyone who thinks being with me is a step backwards for them.” 

“Who said that?”

“You did.” Riley sweeps her things into her arms and stands, unable to believe that the conversation that had caused her so much heartache was so inconsequential to Charlie that he had forgotten it.

“If I said that it was only because I was confused.” He sidesteps in front of her, blocking her path. “Riley, I know the past few months have been a lot but I still care about you. We can make this work. I mean….look at what happened with your parents.” He gestures towards the front of the classroom, where her dad is trying and failing to look like he’s simply writing out his next lesson plan on the board and not hanging on every word of the conversation. “They broke up and saw other people in high school and look at them now! Married for seventeen years! That could be us one day.”

Riley looks to her dad, eyes wide pleading for his assistance; surely he must understand how crazy Charlie’s premise sounds. The odds of her parents’ relationship working in spite of all of their hurdles and separations was one in a trillion. And really, the circumstances of their breakup and what happened in the aftermath were so different than this.

But her dad just nods. “He’s right Riley. Your story isn’t over yet.”

“If it’s my story that means I get to say when it’s over.” Riley argues, though she feels a stabbing in her chest and her resolve starts to weaken at the disappointed frown that deepens across her father’s face. She tears her gaze away, glancing at Charlie one last time. “I don’t know if you’ve genuinely realized that you still care about me or if you just don’t want to be alone, but I’m sorry. Either way, my answer is no. And it’s not going to change.” She ducks around her ex and hurries out of the room before either he or her dad can say anything else. But she still hears their chorused objections, and can’t stop her tears from falling as she rushes down the hall.

Riley wraps her arms around herself as she finishes this portion of the story, squeezing tightly. Lucas can’t tell if she’s getting cold in the night air or just trying to comfort herself. “From that point on I was on my own. If I caught my parents’ attention all I ever got was a lecture; my so-called friends spent most of their time explaining all the ways that I was being a selfish bitch--that’s if they could even be bothered to talk to me or spend time with me at all. Classmates harassed me, teachers just wanted to talk about my falling grades...It felt like the only person who still liked me for me was Auggie, and that was only because he was too young to understand why everyone else was mad at me. I couldn’t exactly confide in him.”

Riley stops walking. She turns to the ocean for a moment, chewing on her lip with eyes cast downward. It’s obvious that she has more to say but needs a moment, whether to simply gather herself or find her words or something else entirely.

It’s all Lucas can do to not reach over and offer her comfort. He’s hardly a stranger to consoling his clients; in this line of work he’s often called on by people with baggage and he considers it a part of his job to help how he can--how he would want to be treated if he were opening up to someone--yet with Riley he finds himself hesitant. She’s been warming up to him and getting much more comfortable with physical contact, both within the context of their feigned relationship and outside of it, but he can’t help but worry that the emotional place the story is putting her in will render that ease and the effects moot. Riley is clearly vulnerable at the moment, and the last thing he wants to do is anything that will make the situation harder for her.

(There’s also the added complication of their earlier kiss and how every touch between them seems to carry such a weighted spark, but thinking about that is going down a road that Lucas knows will lead to trouble so really, his reluctance to act is based solely on his concern for Riley and not on his worries over the complications of the growing tangled knot of feelings in his chest. Really.)

He’s so caught up in his mental debate and the ominous uneasiness over where the story is going next that he almost misses when Riley starts to speak again.

“I started drowning, and I couldn’t see anyway to save myself. I started to think that maybe I shouldn’t--,” Riley cuts herself off as her voice grows shakier. When she starts again, it’s still thick and wet, but firm. “Uncle Eric wasn’t wrong when he said that if he hadn’t stepped in I wouldn’t be here anymore. By the time my dad called him at the end of the school year I was in a really bad place.”

“Riley! Light of my life, the one and only, my favorite niece in the universe!” 

Riley’s bed jolts with the impact of an adult launching himself onto the end of the mattress and bouncing as he settles. The movement causes her to fall out of her position, huddled on her side and staring blankly towards the window, and onto her back. She doesn’t move to correct it, or to look at the newcomer. She knows it’s her Uncle Eric, and knows, because her parents aren’t subtle in the slightest, that he’s there as their last ditch effort to make her see reason and crawl back to her friends. 

It’s a specialty of his, understanding people and repairing relationships, and she knows her parents are hoping that he can make her see the light. That as her favorite uncle somehow his words will get through to her and she’ll rethink her choices. 

Only Riley is well past the point of going back. And she doesn’t really want to look her favorite uncle in the eye while he tells her how big of a disappointment she is; she’s done that enough with everyone else in her life and to do it again would just be too much. Even hearing it will be too much but it’s not like she has a choice. She never has a choice. 

“It is a beautiful day at the start of the summer and I find you holed up in your room.” Eric says, a teasing exasperated tone gracing his voice. “The curtains on your windows aren’t even open. What gives?”

“I didn’t feel like getting up.” It’s the first time Riley has said more than a word here and there in a number of days and her throat grates. She’d add a shrug to her words but she can’t muster up the extra energy. 

“But days like today are meant to be experienced! Haven’t any of your friends been by to drag you out?”

Riley closes her eyes. For all of his positives, nobody ever said subtlety was her Uncle Eric’s forte. “We’re not exactly on speaking terms. Or even friends.”

“Yeah, I heard.” The bed starts to shift as Eric moves; Riley can tell he’s wriggling his way up to put her head on the pillows near her, even without looking. “What’s up with that?”

Definitely not subtle. 

“If you’ve heard we’re not talking then you’ve heard the story.” Her parents surely would have ranted every event as they saw it to him in order to get him to come down so quickly. She’d only overheard their conversation about asking for Eric’s help a couple of days ago and while the Senate wasn’t currently in session he had plenty of other work that he couldn’t normally just walk away from. Someone had to have said something to convince him it was urgent. 

“Well,” He draws out the word, “I’ve heard their side of things. I want to hear yours.” Eric nudges at the side of her head with his own temple; it’s his usual playful way but it seems wrong, if only because she hasn’t felt anywhere close to playful for close to a year now. 

She shakes her head minutely. “It’s not that different.”

“Considering how the story I heard sounds nothing like you, I’ll bet it is.”

Riley doesn’t dare trust the glimmer of hope that sits in Eric’s words. Sure, they might mean that he knows she’s a better person and he’s willing to actually listen and believe her, but at one point she’d thought the same about her parents. And her grandparents. And Uncle Shawn. If she thinks for one second that Eric might actually be on her side, it’s only going to hurt more when he’s not. “I don’t care. There’s no point.”

Uncle Eric exhales heavily. “Ri, there’s always, always a point,” he says, fumbling for her hand and weaving his fingers with hers. “If you really don’t want to talk about Maya and Charlie and Josh or whoever else then I’m not gonna make you. I couldn’t care less about them. I want to know about you and how you’re doing. The truth.”

The truth. 

Just the idea sends Riley’s breath into a hitch. 

The truth is that she’s beyond exhausted, and lonely, and she’s more than starting to think that everyone’s right and she’s being a horrible person. Half of the time just breathing hurts. It feels like every negative thought she’s ever had-every upset and bad mood she’s ever bypassed and tried to ignore in favor of being happy- has multiplied by a thousand and returned to come crashing down in a wave across her shoulders and she’s drowning. Swept beneath the surface and drowning and there’s nothing for her to try and grab onto. 

Riley shakes her head and her breath hitches again. This time her shoulders move with it and before she knows it, tears are falling hot and fast down her cheeks. Despite her best efforts she’s a sobbing mess within moments, but Eric just sits up properly and hoists her up into an embrace, rubbing her back and murmuring into her hair while she cries into his chest. 

“Eventually I calmed down enough to actually talk to him and tell him the whole story and what I was feeling.” Riley finishes. “And Eric just…promised me that I wasn’t doing the wrong thing, and that he was going to do everything he could to help me.”

“Like having you move in with him and Linda.” 

“Well it started with just a summer internship he found me with one of his colleagues. I went and stayed with them while I did that and he got me into therapy and kept my dealing with my parents to the absolute bare minimum. And when I told him that I didn’t want to go back to New York for my senior year he didn’t fight me, just found some family friends in education who were willing to call in some favors to help get me a super late interview at a great prep school he lived near and took the hit of telling my parents that I wouldn’t be going home.” 

Lucas nods, trying to reconcile the explanation Riley has given with the display at the karaoke party between the Matthews brothers. It’s not exactly difficult. “Hence your dad saying he stole you.”

“Exactly. Only it was all my choices, Uncle Eric just didn’t want me to be the one to tell them when I was in such a bad place. And ever since then, and when I decided to go to college out west, every time I see my family or talk to them, it’s exactly what you’ve seen. Awkward and  uncomfortable at the best of times, outright hostile and downtrodding at others… they don’t hate me but they don’t exactly like me either.”

Lucas thinks over that assessment. It’s not totally inaccurate; the Matthews’ certainly aren’t trying to freeze her out of being there for Auggie or anything like that--they aren’t actively trying to make Riley miserable--but it’s clear that their affection comes with conditions. You either think and act a certain way or you don’t belong. And even though he doesn’t think Riley is all that far from fulfilling every one of those standards in the present day, because she didn’t do exactly what they wanted in high school and refuses to apologize for it or be a doormat any longer, her family is refusing to see that.

His family had been similar, although he had definitely been further away from their idea of what a perfect son was, and they had treated him like that every time he drifted for as long as he could remember, so when he finally realized how wrong it was and had gotten out from under them, it had been a fairly easy choice to cut the cord and decide he wouldn’t deal with them anymore. Riley didn’t have that blessing. She had a family that had loved her unconditionally right up until the point that they didn’t, so she had more dissonance to reconcile in their behaviors; she had something that most everyone would want to try and get back.

Lucas doesn’t want to overstep any boundaries, or give advice where it’s not wanted, but he knows this is a painful and tricky situation and not many people involved can look at it without the blinders of family on. Even Eric, who had done so well to remove her from the toxic situation in the first place is clearly reluctant to do or suggest more, only throwing direct blame tonight when pushed by the situation. Ultimately it feels like, as an outsider who has taken on taking care of Riley, he needs to try and say something. 

“Do you ever think about not coming back? I mean, I get why you’re here for this. It’s Auggie’s wedding, and he’s a good guy and your brother so that’s pretty unavoidable but outside of this...why are you even talking to them at this point?”

[365daysofsasuhina]

[ 365 Days of SasuHina || Day Three Hundred Fifty-Two: An Open Magazine ] [ Uchiha Sasuke, Hyūga Hinata, Hyūga Neji ] [ SasuHina, death, cancer ] [ Verse: Best Years of Your Life ] [ AO3 Link ]

This has to be one of the worst days of her life.

It all started with a phone call from her father. Her aunt - his deceased brother’s wife - had lost her battle with cancer and passed away overnight. As devastating as it was, she knew Neji would be taking his mother’s loss far harder. Now without either of his parents, he’s an orphan. Grown, sure...but a lost parent makes anyone feel like a lost child. Hinata hadn’t lost a family member since her mother when Hanabi was born, so...she couldn’t quite understand that loss now. But even so, the news received at ten past seven in the morning was how her day started...and it just didn’t let up.

Deciding to head into the city to be with her cousin and family, Hinata quickly got out of bed. Her morning routine of checking her phone showed the now-typical barrage of negative news on Twitter, only further degrading her mood. She tripped over her roomba and dropped her breakfast all over the floor. And as if having sensed the impending negativity, her plants along her tiny apartment balcony looked a bit withered and sick.

Wonderful.

Touching them up with some water and fertilizer, she hoped they’d last until she got home...probably pretty late. Otherwise, she didn’t have time to try her hand again at breakfast, and looking up what might be wilting her beauties would have to wait.

Pulling on her favorite white and lilac jacket, she’d scooped up her keys, shouldered her purse, and made her way out of the apartment to the garage below and her waiting car.

Born and raised in one of the large coastal cities, Hinata had abandoned it come adulthood. There were too many tearing memories to stay, and as much as she loved her hometown...the smog, the crowds, and the crime was enough for her to pack up and move to another smaller, quieter, it not more boring town two hours inland. Sure, she isn’t getting as much business as she might in the big city with her architectural degree, but to her...the peace and quiet are worth it.

But the rest of the Hyūga family remained in town, hence her needing to return. Her father’s tech repair business is rooted there, Hanabi is finishing up school, and Neji has his law career. His mother had been retired on her husband’s life insurance, but...well, no one is immune to medical bills. They’d all been chipping in, hoping she’d pull through.

Fate, however, isn’t swayed by human wishes.

The entire ride was done in silence, Hinata too full of sorrow to abide the radio or her mp3 player. It just felt wrong to break the quiet in the wake of her mourning. Instead, she wordlessly went over memories of her aunt in her mind. Most were happy...some not so much. But they brought her a small amount of comfort, knowing that her aunt had gotten to live a fairly full life, all things considered...with plenty of happy moments. Perhaps less so the past few years, but...they have to count their blessings.

...but that’s when it happened.

Eyes almost zoned out, Hinata snapped to attention at a loud bang, the entire car jolting and making her scream in surprise. Slamming on the brakes, she thankfully kept the car straight and upright, pressed back into her seat with a hammering heart and empty lungs.

...what the hell?!

Sitting and listening as the car sat idling, she tried to identify any other sounds, but...nothing. Only once a full minute passed with nothing else did she gingerly undo her seatbelt, hands shaking as she got herself out of the car, intending to check under the hood.

...but she quickly realized that wasn’t the problem.

The car jostled a bit more than usual when she stepped out, and a glance showed the now-bare rim of her front driver’s side wheel.

...her tire...exploded.

Gaping at it, she looked back, seeing the shreds of the tire then scattered all over the roadway. It...it…? Holy shit! Did she run over something? Was it just a faulty tire? Slumping back against her vehicle in both shock and despair (she didn’t have a spare tire...or even a tire iron…), Hinata did her best to stay calm, burying her face in her hands.

...okay. Call her father. Have him send...someone. She’d made it about halfway there, so...an hour to get her, and then an hour back into the city.

...she’d be fine.

Digging out her phone, she powered on the screen, opening up her contacts and selecting Hiashi’s number.

...it didn’t ring.

Drawing a deep breath, she looked to the phone, and saw...no bars. No signal.

Nothing.

Of course. Of course! Now she’ll have to wait for someone to drive by, take pity on her, and hopefully not kidnap her, what with her being out here alone, with no phone, and no way to escape.

Tossing herself back into her car, she put on her flashers...and prepared to wait.

...ten minutes later, we find her staring blandly through the windshield...only to perk up at a noise.

Someone’s coming…!

Gasping, she scrambles out of the car, carefully standing out of the road and waving. It’s some red, fancy sports car she couldn’t begin to tell you the make or model of, given her complete disinterest in cars. But it slows, and she wilts in relief.

Hopefully they’re here to help, and not...hurt.

Pulling up behind her, the vehicle powers off and a man steps out. He looks about her age, flyaway dark hair and even darker eyes making for a rather broody-looking (and admittedly handsome ) face. “...you all right?”

“N-no,” she admits, loosely hugging herself. “My tire, it just…”

“Oh...was that yours all over the road?”

“Y...yeah…”

He walks around to examine the wheel. “...I take it you don’t have a spare?”

“No...I kept meaning to get one, but…”

“Yeah, I know how that goes. Take it you’re heading to the coast?”

“Yes, um...long story.”

“Need a lift? Or are you waiting for someone?”

“No, my - my phone has no signal. If you wouldn’t mind, I...would greatly appreciate a ride into town.”

“Yeah, sure thing. Here...let’s get your stuff, pull it off the road, and lock it up.”

Once the car’s situated and properly settled, he holds out a hand. “Name’s Sasuke, by the way.”

The name rings a very distant bell, shaking his grip slowly. “Hinata. Thanks again for your help.”

“No problem.”

Hinata settles sheepishly on the passenger seat. The car smells brand new, impeccably kept and clearly rarely driven. Seems he was out on a joyride when he passed by. The radio powers back up with the engine, but Hinata doesn’t refute it. With her frazzled nerves on top of...everything else, the background noise is actually rather nice.

“What brings you into the big city?” Sasuke asks as he pulls back onto the road.

“Oh, um...m-my aunt passed away last night, so…”

“Oh, shit...I’m sorry.”

“It...it’s fine. We knew it was coming. C-cancer.”

He gives her a somber glance. “...it’s nasty business.”

“...yeah. S-so, um...I wanted to go be with my family. They all live in town, so…”

“And then of course your car dies. When it rains it pours, right?”

“...right. So...I’m s-sure glad you drove by. Today’s been enough of a disaster…”

The rest of the hour passes with conversation, starting idly before slowly getting a bit more personal. Hinata, to her own honest surprise, dives right in despite her reserved nature. Maybe it’s having a distraction after her horror of a morning. Or...maybe she’s just lonely.

...maybe both.

Either way, Sasuke takes her to her cousin’s apartment building, shutting down the car and walking her to the entryway.

“Thank you again. Is...is there anything I can do to make it up to you?”

“Nah, don’t mention it. Besides, you’ve got enough to worry about. I was happy to do it. Hope you can call and get it towed all right.”

“Yeah, it should be fine. Just...no signal before. I’ve got pretty decent insurance, so…”

“Good. Sorry again about your aunt…”

“...me too.”

“Well, maybe I’ll see you around.” He nods to her phone in her hand, which has his number in it: exchanged during their talks. “Need anything, let me know.”

“Thank you…” Waving, she watches him cross back to the sidewalk where he parked before turning and heading in.

Neji opens the door after a long silence once she knocks, bags under his bloodshot eyes. It’s quite clear he’s been crying.

“Oh, Neji…” Expression crumbling, Hinata quickly embraces him, sobbing quietly into his shoulder. “I’m s-so sorry…”

Eventually they retreat inside, Hinata making tea as he sits on the couch, head in his hands. Handing him a cup, she takes a ginger seat beside him, sparing a hand to gently rub at his back. “...did you sleep at all last night?”

“No...no, I was with her, when…”

Her head bows somberly.

“...thank you for coming.”

“Of course! I’d have been here sooner, but...I g-got a flat tire. Caught a ride in.”

Neji’s brow quickly furrows. “...with a stranger?”

“He was fine. Very polite, a-and friendly. Point is, I’m here now. I called the tow truck before I came up, so...it’s being taken into a shop. I’ll be good to drive home later today.”

“...I see. Seems it’s just that sort of day, isn’t it?”

“...yeah.”

The pair fall into a companionable silence, and Hinata lets her eyes wander to the coffee table beyond their knees. A few magazines and envelopes litter the surface, one of the former open to an article about some movie awards show.

...and then she jolts.

That...that’s him! That’s the guy who -?!

Feeling her jump, Neji glances over. “...are you all right?”

“I...t-that…?” She points. “...he’s the one who picked me up!”

“...you’re joking. Sasuke Uchiha?”

“Y-yeah!”

“He’s a pretty big name lately. How did you not recognize him? He’s on that one show, Clan something or other...and they just had some big movie come out. He and his brother were both in it.”

“I...I don’t really w-watch TV…”

“...well, seems you’re making friends in high places,” he can’t help but note dryly. “I suppose there are worse people who could have taken you off the side of the road.”

Hinata just nods slowly, still staring at the picture in disbelief. She...has an actor’s number. Is...is it really okay to just talk to him? Sure, she did on the way in, but that was before she knew who he was! Why didn’t he say anything…?

...well, there’s more pressing issues for the moment. Snapping herself out of it, she clears her throat a bit sheepishly. “...a-anyway...should we go see Dad?”

“...yes, we should. He had a meeting this morning, but...it should be over now. I”ll text him, let him know we’re coming.”

Hinata’s brow furrows in disapproval. Hiashi’s working today…? Really? Well...whatever. So long as he helps out, she can’t get mad. They’re all going have to work through this...but for now, she’s most concerned about Neji. Not her father, or her car, or her new friend.

...that all will have to wait.

                                                              .oOo.

     This is super random (and super depressing OTL) but...it was the first idea that hit me to make the prompt fit ^^; Sorry for the downer piece everybody. I try not to do angst too often...I prefer fluff, lol - or drama.      Anywho! Poor Neji...and poor Hinata. It's always hard losing a loved one, especially to something like a terminal illness. But at least they have each other to rely on. Sasuke takes a bit of a back seat in this one, but...I don't focus on Hinata enough, tbh. Which is odd, given how much I adore her!      But on that note, I'm finally getting to bed a little bit early for once! Woo! lol, thanks for reading guys~

[13thgenfilm]

Team Building: On Wanda Bershen and Film Safety Nets

Written by 13th Gen’s Founder and CEO Marc Smolowitz, this article originally appeared in Filmmaker Magazine in March 2020.

On September 28th, 2019, Wanda Bershen died quietly, alone and under fairly tragic circumstances, after being rushed to the hospital from a rehabilitation facility on the Upper East Side of Manhattan. She was 75 years old, and very few people were aware of her passing. This piece is one part obituary for Wanda—a remarkable woman who certainly deserves to be remembered lovingly in Filmmaker—and one part urgent call-to-action for our industry to have a long-overdue discussion about a difficult and troubling topic: the lack of safety nets, resiliency and end-of-life supports in place for aging independent film professionals.

The vast majority of you reading this did not know Wanda, but you may know someone like her—she could very well stand in as an everywoman whose story is far too common, one of those stalwart and passionate behind-the-scenes indie film culture workers who loved cinema and wore a compelling mix of hats: writer, curator, teacher, festival director, publicist, producer’s representative, film booker, television programmer and distributor. Her boutique company, Red Diaper Productions, made a huge yet hardly known impact on an incredible list of films and filmmakers around the world for more than 25 years. These efforts included focusing much of her attention and efforts on supporting women directors and organizing a powerful slate of word cinema touring packages, which introduced US audiences to contemporary cinema from Iceland, the Netherlands and various countries across Eastern Europe. Decidedly proud and fiercely independent, she did all of this entirely on her own as a freelancer, independent contractor and consultant. For most of her career, she managed to be reasonably vital even without the benefit of strong institutions backing her up.

There are countless people like Wanda who march through film careers, working hard without much recognition and likely without the means to plan—in any real or comprehensive way—for their long-term security and retirement. Wanda was also unmarried, without children or close family members nearby. Her community of closest friends and colleagues was a global one. While this is something to treasure when you’re well enough to travel to Rotterdam, Berlin and Karlovy Vary each year (the latter, in Czech Republic, was her favorite festival to attend), what happens when you stop traveling for work because it becomes impossible financially—not to mention physically dangerous? More important, what happens to someone older like Wanda when a new generation of leadership takes the industry reins without knowledge of her unique contributions? The sad, hard fact is that you kind of, well, disappear. This is exactly what happened to Wanda.

For many years, whenever I visited New York for business, Wanda and I would have dinner if our schedules aligned. I treasured our time together. Her wit and sense of humor were delightful, and her deep knowledge of film, especially international and genre cinemas, could put most film scholars to shame. But, in very recent years, our conversations became quite heartbreaking. She was struggling to find work that could sustain her financially. Her professional emails often went unanswered. When she tried to connect with others for networking opportunities at festivals and press screenings, she felt shunned and set aside largely because of her age and gender. The industry to which she had given her life’s work did not have space for her anymore.

Last August, I was planning a shoot in NYC, so I texted Wanda to reach out and get on her calendar. I got a message that her number was no longer valid and was immediately concerned. I sent her an email with no response. So, I did what made the most sense and went looking for her on Facebook. As I scrolled down her page, I realized there had been no posts from Wanda since March 13th. On March 20th, a post from her sister read, “Wanda Bershen was hospitalized Monday night at NYU Langone. If you are a friend of Wanda’s in NYC, please contact me…. Diagnosis is not yet determined. Wanda needs visitors and support as she goes through this. I live… too far away to be actively involved.”

It didn’t take long to uncover that she had experienced a devastating stroke and been bedridden without speech and the ability to move for the better part of five months. Her dearest friend in the city, also a film producer, had been valiantly trying to help, but if Wanda were to have any chance at survival, it would require that many more people get involved. Within days, I became part of a wonderful group of people from around the world—many of us filmmakers and film professionals who knew and adored Wanda for decades—who attempted (perhaps naively) to organize over email on Wanda’s behalf and advocate for her well-being and recovery. One of us referred to this small but mighty group as TEAM WANDA.

This sort of scenario is as dark and bleak as you might expect. In short, there were no immediate and apparent resources available to help someone in Wanda’s situation. When I managed to see Wanda in person several weeks later, it was clear very few visitors had been by. She lay in a hospital bed almost comatose yet her mind still seemed sharp, and she clearly understood the gravity and heartbreak of what was happening to her. I sat with her and kissed her forehead gently. I told her that there was a group of us around the world trying our best to help her. While I could sense her relief in hearing some encouraging news, I left her bedside that afternoon feeling helpless and hopeless. I urged the nurses on her floor to continue caring for her and to keep up her hygiene. My main concern at that point was her basic dignity. I knew in my heart that there was no way our committed worldwide cohort could move fast enough to change Wanda’s destiny. She died just 10 days later.

From my perspective, all of this is quite chilling, and the more I pondered what happened to Wanda, the more I wanted to kickstart a discussion among colleagues, so we can all work to make sure there are no more stories like this one. But, it’s not that simple. While we have a great deal of work to do on this topic as an industry, our nation seems unwilling to have an honest and forthright public conversation around the lack of meaningful policies that advance the cause of older Americans: retirement, long-term care and what it means to approach end-of-life with dignity. This is particularly concerning because we now live in a nation where people are both living and working much longer, yet we offer very little in the way of substantive help to our aging populations.

When one looks closely at specific industries, there are helpful models out there for safety net services and resilience (see roundup at right), but the independent film industry literally has nothing of our own, nor have we contemplated these discussions in any forum that I can find. By contrast, the Hollywood community, where there have always been more resources, has a great deal in place through its guilds and unions; for example, The Actors Fund of America. Even the visual arts have managed to develop funds to support artists affected by natural disasters (Craft Emergency Relief Fund, or CERF). And, of course, Visual AIDS was one of the most inspiring organizations that emerged during the worst years of the AIDS pandemic (see visualaids.org/history).

Not long after Wanda passed, I took to Facebook and posted about her story. While I certainly didn’t want to exploit Wanda’s passing, I also didn’t want her to have died without someone making a little bit of noise about the travesty of it all. What I encountered in the comments was revealing. Unsurprisingly, a great many people in our shared networks knew and adored Wanda, and there were just as many who were shocked to know she had even been so unwell. More important, there was a universal agreement when it came to one important point: We cannot let the tragedy of what happened to Wanda continue to happen to others like her who have helped build this business. To be sure, ours is a compassionate and beautifully collaborative industry with some of the most dynamic tentpole institutions around, many of which have been serving film professionals for some 50 years. We must turn to them now and insist on space for this mission-critical discussion. It will be an uneasy one to have, but we must do it for all of our own sakes.

_____

ROUNDUP OF SAFETY NET AND END OF LIFE RESOURCES:

National Coalition for Arts’ Preparedness and Emergency Response (NCAPER) ncaper.org/about

CERF+ The Artist’s Safety Net

cerfplus.org/stories-resources/how-to/

The Actors Fund

actorsfund.org/

Reimagine (End of Life)

letsreimagine.org/

Death With Dignity

deathwithdignity.org/learn/end-of-life-resources/

Speaking of Dying

speakingofdying.com/end-of-life-resources/