#I think it would’ve been less satisfying if the party just worked perfectly the first time

[nefertiti-fooling-fellow]

Today’s Blades chapter was so good. I would say it feels just like old times but that’s not true, it’s better even. The dynamics that we loved from Blades 1 is back, but now they’re even richer and more complex than ever.

The steady progression of the party learning to fight as a team again after a year apart feels incredibly satisfying, like finally figuring out the steps to a new dance.

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Stuck

Prompts: Uhh hi. Wanted to know if you could write something with Logan brin hurt (emotionally, mentally, physically, doesn't matter as long as he's hurt) and Patton, Virgil, and Roman aren't there for him for whatever reason so Remus and Janus take care of Logan and there's a lot of Logan being pulled into and set on laps and just Janus and Roman being Protective? I'm a sucker for hurt logan and Protective Janus and Remus. Okay thanks, have a good time. - anon

 hey there! i absolutely love your fanfics! if possible (and feel free to ignore this), could you write some roloceit angst and hurt/comfort? perhaps with roman being the comforter and logan or janus being the hurt one? again, feel free to ignore this if you don’t want to write this, no pressure - anon

 Can I request some Janus and Virgil or Logan cuddles? - anon

 The answer to all of the above is yes and we switch RIGHT back into projecting-onto-Logan mode!

Read on Ao3

Pairings: roloceit, background platonic lamp, dlamp, dlampr

Warnings: stimming, getting caught in a stim loop

Word Count:  4558

Occasionally, Logan will get stuck.

 Not in a logic loop, no, he’s quite adept at getting out of those, but in certain patterns of behavior. He’ll find himself absentmindedly swinging his arm back and forth and the moment he notices it, he will be unable to stop. It will simply swing there, back and forth, completely unconsciously, and only by someone else walking past and asking him what he’s doing, or tapping him, will he be able to stop.

For the most part, it’s just an annoying inconvenience. It takes him longer to do tasks than it should. It prevents him from engaging in serious conversations when necessary. Occasionally, Roman will also get stuck in a similar fashion and the two of them will shake their heads until they can unstick themselves.

 Other times…

 “Damnit, no, that’s not what I meant.”

 “Well, what did you mean? Because it kind of sounds like you don’t want me to be in your space at all, except your space is the entire Mindscape!”

 “Kiddos, just—calm down—“

 “We can’t, Padre, you know we can’t.”

 “Listen, this whole thing started because—“

 How did this whole thing start?

 Logan curls his fingers around his water bottle and leans back against the couch, closing his eyes as the others continue bickering.

 Thomas had gotten into a small argument earlier today. Nothing too significant, nothing that would drastically impede their friendship, nor chance a cut-off of communication. But enough to make Virgil shoot up protectively the second Thomas got back.

 Roman hadn’t wanted to do anything except immediately apologize. Patton had wanted to talk through everything with Thomas to make sure they understood it. Virgil hadn’t wanted to do anything because Thomas was already stressed.

 Logan—

 Well, Logan’s not sure what to do.

 He doesn’t want to—

 Well. He doesn’t want to do anything.

 Thomas should give his friend time to relax and get a clear head, giving himself time to do the same. They had both reacted emotionally due to the differences in the way they associate emotions with the things that they care about. Thus, in order to reach a conclusion that would satisfy both parties, they needed to determine the best way to explain their differences and work together. The problem arose when figuring out how to communicate something that innate.

 “If we try and say that this is just how we think,” Virgil says firmly, “we’re gonna come off as patronizing or condescending.”

 “But if we don’t say it at all,” Patton points out, “then we’re just going to hurt them again!”

 “So it would be best if we just went away?” Roman throws his hands up. “The first thing we have to do is apologize. We hurt them.”

 “But we’re not responsible for their emotions. We have to talk to them before we can do anything like apologize.”

 “But then it just sounds like we’re preaching at them!”

 “Think of it this way: if you knew that someone was specifically holding their emotions back so that you could feel better, how would you feel?”

 “That was not the right thing to say, Patton,” Virgil mutters under his breath.

 Logan taps his fingers against his water bottle. Tap, tap, tap. Tap, tap, tap.

 “What do you think I’ve been doing?”

 “Roman—“

 “Putting that aside,” Virgil says quickly, “we have to talk about how—“

 They’ve been at this for—how long? Logan can’t remember. They’re feeding off of each other at this point, caught in a feedback loop. Roman will say something, Virgil will point out how that doesn’t make sense to him so how could it make sense to someone else, Patton will try and bring the conversation back to feelings, and on and on they spin. Logan has no emotional stake in this—not that he has much of an emotional stake in anything—and thus he tried to stay quiet, to let them speak.

 He’s already been asked to let them do so many times.

 So he sits quietly, tapping his fingers against his water bottle. Tap, tap, tap.

 “Do you just want me to leave? Should I get some paper plates for myself?”

 “No, kiddo, that’s not what we want—“

 “That would make me feel worse because then it feels like you aren’t comfortable down here.”

 “Well, I’m not! I’m already at max capacity, trying to figure out what you all need from this and all we’re doing is adding more rules for how I’m supposed to behave!”

 “Virgil,” Roman says, “what do you think the rules are? What are we missing about how Thomas is acting?”

 “I just told you all of them!”

 Tap, tap, tap. Tap, tap, tap.

 “But we don’t know what those rules are, if you were to just tell us—“

 “But you’ve told me them so many times, hell, I helped create some of them!”

 Tap, tap, tap. Tap, tap, tap.

 “But there may be rules that you see as rules that we don’t care about, so—“

 “Because it’s not your job to care about them, Princey.”

 “So help me understand! I don’t want to make this harder on you!”

 “You’re not responsible for my emotions.”

 “But I can’t think like that, Virgil. If I tell you to do something or—even if I just say something or bring it up then you’ll get mad at me and I hate it when you’re mad at me.”

 “But you’re not responsible for that.”

 “You’re still going to be mad at me!”

 “Damnit, no, that’s—no, Princey, that’s not true.”

 Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap.

 Their voices keep getting louder. His tapping grows frantic. They ring in his ears, even with his eyes closed he can see their faces. He can see Virgil’s eyeshadow getting deeper, he can see Roman’s expressions getting more defined, he can see Patton getting slowly more frustrated. He can hear the tension in the room about to snap.

 They’re all about to start yelling at each other and he can’t do anything to stop it.

 All he can do is tap, tap, tap, on his water bottle.

 “What’re you all shouting about?”

 “Go away, Remus.”

 “Oh, but I just love showing up where I’m not invited.”

 Something heavy lands on the couch next to Logan. He does not look up from his water bottle, he does not open his eyes, his fingers do not stop tap, tap, tapping.

 “Remus, don’t do that, you almost landed right on…”

 Virgil’s voice trails off.

 “…Logan?”

 Tap, tap, tap. Tap, tap, tap.

 “Logan, are you okay?”

 Tap, tap, tap. Tap, tap, tap. Tap, tap, tap.

 “Fuck, guys, shut up.”

 “Virgil!”

 “Language, kiddo.”

 “No, really, guys, Logan’s not okay, be quiet.”

 Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap.

 “But I think it’s interesting how—“

 “No, guys, really,” Virgil says again, his tempest tongue coming out a little, “shut up.”

 “Lolo?”

 Ah, that must be Remus. A soft voice beside him, blocking out the others into a distant murmur, a warm hand on his shoulder.

 “Lolo, can you hear me?”

 Tap, tap, tap. Tap, tap, tap.

 Remus curses. “I’m taking this.”

 “Rem—!”

 Logan doesn’t hear the rest of Patton’s cry as Remus grabs him by the shoulder and sinks out, into another living room, perhaps, judging by the fact that they land on a very similar couch.

 “It’s okay, Lolo,” Remus murmurs, rubbing gentle circles into his shoulder, “you’re okay, this won’t last forever. I already called for Jan-Jan.”

 Tap, tap, tap. Tap, tap, tap.

 “You’re doing great, just keep breathing, okay?”

 The water bottle cap smushes uncomfortably against Logan’s mouth, how long has he had it here?

 “You’re okay, Lolo, this won’t last forever, just stay with me.”

 The others aren’t here. No one is yelling. There will be no emotional spillover, everything will be okay. Everything is okay.

 Logan’s tapping grows less frantic, settling back into a smooth rhythm on the bottle.

 Tap, tap, tap. Tap, tap, tap.

 Remus’s hand never leaves his shoulder, still rubbing warm, patient circles.

 “They should’ve known better,” he mutters, mostly to himself, “fucking morons.”

 Something about Remus’s tone worms its way into Logan’s hands, gentling his fingers to a stop. He cups the smooth, cool metal of the water bottle and takes a deep breath. Remus stills.

 “…Lolo?”

 He blinks his eyes open.

 Well, he was correct. They are in the Dark Sides’s living room. He turns to look at Remus.

 “Be honest,” he says in a surprisingly even voice, “how red is my face right now?”

 Remus blinks. “Not one bit, actually.”

 “Well, that’s good.”

 “Yeah.” Remus looks down and gently tugs on the water bottle. “Can I have this?”

 “No, thank you.”

 “Okay. Can I hug you?”

 “Yes, why—oof!”

 To be honest, he probably should have expected to be all but tackled into the couch, considering that is the primary way Remus shows affection to Roman. Still, his back hits the sofa with a surprised gasp as Remus’s weight comes to rest on top of him.

 “A little warning next time would’ve been appreciated.”

 “Sorry.” Remus props himself up on his elbows. “Am I hurting you?”

 “I can’t imagine lying on top of a water bottle is very comfortable.”

 Remus lets him move it off his chest before flopping back down and snuggling closer.

 “You okay?”

 “I’m perfectly adequate.”

 “Not what I asked, Brainiac. You were stuck. And upset.”

 Logan quiets. Remus must be able to tell that he’s thinking; after a second, he turns and goes to pull away. The sudden absence of warm pressure above him hurts.

 “No—“ he catches onto Remus’s back— “stay?”

 “…Lolo,” Remus says quietly after a moment, “Lolo, move your arm a little.”

 “What? Why?”

 “Don’t want to hurt you when I lie back down, shift a bit.”

 Logan shifts, letting Remus settle back down on top of him and lift his arm over his shoulder. He rumbles, low in his chest, pressing Logan firmly against the couch.

 “Can we just…stay like this? For a bit?”

 “Sure, Lolo.”

 Remus is warm and solid, somehow radiating the energy that if anyone so much as tries to get near them right now he’ll gnaw their arm off. That’s not an empty threat. One of his hands flops off the couch, keeping his fingers just brushing the carpet. Logan takes a deep breath, feeling Remus move.

 Oh.

 Oh, dear.

 “What?”

 Did he say that out loud?

 “Yeah, you did.”

 “Hmm,” Logan mumbles, “well, that’s not ideal.”

 “Yeah, I gathered. But that’s kinda my thing so, spit it out, Lolo.”

 “I have come to the realization that I entered the stimming cycle while in my operative mode, which means that I cannot fully disengage from it until I know the problem is resolved.” Logan sighs. “Which I can’t do until I reestablish an emotional balance.”

 “Can you put that in layman’s terms?”

 He winces. “I don’t know if I can. My vocabulary tends to increase exponentially as my level of exhaustion climbs.”

 “Yeesh.” Remus sits up, sliding onto the floor and prompting an involuntary noise from Logan wondering where he’s going. “C’mere.”

 Remus hauls him into his lap. Logan’s a little too tall to fit his head under Remus’s chin, but Remus plants his face square in Logan’s collarbones and hangs on tight.

 “You’re gonna be fine, Lolo,” Remus says softly, “just…try and take a minute, yeah? Maybe you’ll be a little less exhausted.”

 “But I can’t, Remus,” he whispers, “I can’t—I can’t start calming down until the problem’s solved and I can’t solve the problem unless I—I—“

 “Ah, shh, shh,” Remus hushes, leaning back to place a finger against Logan’s mouth, “first off, you already explained it better than you did a moment ago, and second, the three of them actually are capable of solving their own problems.”

 He chuckles, clearly seeing the doubt expressed on Logan’s face.

 “I know it sounds impossible, but they have done it.”

 “Who has done what?”

 Logan whirls around to see Janus striding out of the shadows, nonchalantly tugging his gloves into place. Remus, of course, does not bother to keep them balanced and simply topples over, right on top of Logan.

 Janus raises an eyebrow at the display. “My, Remus, how graceful you’re getting to be.”

 “Thank you!”

 “That’s not—mm.” Janus rolls his eyes and looks at Logan. “Well, I must say, I certainly expected to see you here.”

 Logan’s fingers close absentmindedly around the water bottle. Janus’s gaze holds him tight.

 Tap, tap, tap.

 What—what’s happening? Janus won’t hurt him, Janus isn’t going to be angry at him—is he? Janus won’t have to go clean up his mess…right?

 “Remus, off.”

 “Hey, Lolo, it’s okay, you’re good, remember?”

 Logan blinks. Janus is crouched now, concern written plainly on his features. Remus’s hand is on his shoulder again, gently rubbing circles. His own hands tap gently on the surface of the water bottle.

 “My apologies.”

 “You’re good,” Remus says as Janus murmurs: “there’s no need for that, sweetie.”

 Logan sighs, stilling his hands and sitting up, letting Remus hook one leg around his back to pull him into his embrace. He leans his head into the middle of Logan’s back and hums.

 “Remus…rescued me,” he says eventually, “from the conversation going on with the others.”

 Janus makes a small ‘ah’ sound.

 “There were..heavy emotional investments coming from all sides,” Logan continues, “including making Virgil feel a little cornered.”

 “I’m sure that went well.”

 “It didn’t.” Logan shuts his eyes. “And now I am…I got stuck.”

 “With the water bottle?”

 He nods. “And I am currently unable to get…unstuck.”

 “Because your system still registers it as an incomplete task,” Janus murmurs, “and thus it won’t let you begin to decompress.”

 Logan nods.

 “Look at me, sweetie.”

 Janus smiles when he catches Logan’s gaze again. He holds out a hand. “Come here, let me help.”

 Logan goes to stand, only to be thwarted by Remus’s arms, still tightly around his waist.

 “No,” Remus mutters, muffled a little with his head in Logan’s back still, “my brain cell.”

 Janus frowns. “Remus…”

 “You wait your turn!”

 A giggle bubbles out of Logan’s throat. Janus narrows his eyes and his arms stretch, each curving around Logan’s sides to poke Remus.

 “Give. Me. My. Logan,” Janus says, punctuating each word with a poke. “My. Logan.”

 Remus squeaks, clutching Logan tightly, only making the giggles worse.

 “Give me my Logan,” Janus calls, still prodding Remus, “give him to me.”

 “Fine!”

 “There,” Janus coos, immediately taking advantage of the fact that all his arms are here and Logan is no longer being held to reel the logical Side in close, “that wasn’t so hard now was it?”

 The residual giggles don’t quite trail off as Janus pushes Logan’s glasses back up his nose and smiles.

 “Hi, sweetie.” His eyes widen when Logan can’t stop giggling. “I didn’t poke you now, little one, why’re you so giggly?”

 He shoots a mock scolding look over Logan’s shoulder.

 “You didn’t accidentally kidnap Patton, and not my Logan, did you?”

 “Nope, that’s the brainiac.”

 “Mm.”

 Why can’t he stop laughing? What’s happening? Why is—why is he stuck again?

 “Oh, oh, sweetie,” Janus’s voice comes from somewhere far away, “oh, little Logan, it’s alright, shh, shh, sweetie…”

 Why is Janus shushing him? He’s fine. Something swipes against his cheek.

 “Shh, shh, you come here, just come here for me, Logan, I’ve got you, you’re safe now…”

 Is he still laughing? His chest is still hitching and he can feel his diaphragm, so why does Janus sound so concerned?

 “It’s okay to cry, sweetie, it’s normal, from what it sounds like, you’ve been having a bit of a rough time.” Something against his cheek again. “Shh, shh, just come here…”

 Oh.

 Oh, he’s crying.

 Of course, as soon as he realizes that, he all but collapses into Janus’s chest and starts sobbing in earnest.

 “There, there, sweetie,” Janus coos instantly, cradling his limp form, “I’ve got you, you’re safe, little one, shh, shh, it’s alright.”

 Logan clutches as hard as he can to Janus’s cloak, fingers sliding off clumsily. Janus makes a noise and two hands come up to grip his, squeezing.

 “There you go, just focus on this for me, okay? Stay with me, Logan.”

 “What’s—what—wha’s happening?”

 “You’re crying, sweetie,” Janus says gently, “you’re overwhelmed and exhausted. Your system is trying to reset itself.”

 “But—but—it—but it hurts.”

 “Try not to fight it,” comes Remus’s voice from behind him, “let Janny hang onto you.”

 “That’s right.” Janus clutches him tighter. “You just stay right here, little Logan, in my arms, in my lap, let me look after you.”

 “‘M not little.”

 “You’re all little to me, sweetie.”

 Remus snorts. “Just because you’re a giant to everyone else aside from when Virgil gets tall doesn’t mean you have to be so snobby about it.”

 “On the contrary, it means I have the right to look down on you all.”

 Despite himself, Logan snorts. An interesting experience when combined with a sob, to be sure, but it happens. Janus chuckles, still hugging him tightly.

 “That’s it, sweetie, it’s alright. It seems like you’re coming to the end of it now, just a little longer, you’re doing wonderfully…”

 Logan takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly…slowly…there.

 “Sweetie?” A hand ruffles through his hair. “Sweetie, are you with me?”

 “Yes,” Logan mumbles, “yes, I’m—I’m here.”

 “Good.” Janus presses a kiss to his cheek. “That seemed like a lot, sweetie, are you alright?”

 “…hurts.”

 “What hurts, Logan, what can I do?”

 “Just…” he leans a little further into Janus’s embrace. “Stay?”

 Janus chuckles. “Of course, sweetie. Do you want to talk about it?”

 Logan shakes his head. “Ask—ask Remus.”

 “Remus?”

 As Remus explains what happened, Logan closes his eyes and does his very best to relax, more than sagging unconsciously into Janus’s arms. Everything is so…fuzzy, almost pixelated, as though he’s struggling to keep his focus here and now. He feels as though he’s fading in between…layers? Is that the right word? Layers of being stuck and unstuck, drifting without ever really making his home in one or the other. If he lets himself slip too much, he’ll get stuck in a loop of nothingness, unable to move or do anything. If he winds himself up too much or tries to focus too hard, he’ll get stuck in another stim cycle.

 Janus makes a soft noise and a hand scratches lightly through his hair.

 “I’m sorry, sweetie,” comes the voice in his ear, “that sounds awful.”

 “It’s not their fault.”

 “No, I know that, but still.” Janus kisses his forehead. “That doesn’t make it easier for you.”

 “And they should know better,” Remus growls, sending another jolt of warmth through Logan’s chest.

 “We can’t just forbid them from hurting Logan ever again.”

 “Why not?”

 “Because it’s terribly impractical, Remus, you know this.”

 Remus’s theatrical sigh almost makes him seem like Roman. The arms that attach themselves like limpets around his waist a moment later, though, are definitely Remus.

 “This okay?”

 “Mhmm.”

 “Good.” Remus’s head finds a home in between Logan’s shoulder blades. “We’re all just gonna sit here for a moment, okay?”

 “Okay.”

 Janus ruffles Remus’s hair and bends down to murmur in Logan’s ear.

 “Do you want to fall asleep here, sweetie?”

 That’s enough to rouse him. “No. If I do that, it will be…not good.”

 Janus nods. “Then let’s have you stay here for a little longer, then get you to your room for a shower and something to eat, hmm?”

 “Yes, please, thank you.”

 “Of course, sweetie.”

 Sure enough, a few minutes later, when Janus gently prompts him up, Logan wraps his arms around Remus in a tight hug with a whispered thank-you before Janus sinks him out to his room. He passes Logan a granola bar and watches as he eats, chases it down with a glass of water.

 “Would you like to be left alone for this?”

 Logan nods.

 “Alright.” Janus cups the back of his neck to bring their foreheads together, kissing his cheek one last time. “Take care of yourself, alright, sweetie?”

 “I will.”

 “Good.”

 Janus sinks out and Logan goes to take a shower. It’s only muscle memory that gets him out of his clothes, into the shower, out of the shower, and into something softer. His mind is still fuzzy, unsure of whether it’s going to stick or not, accompanied by a slowly growing grayness in his chest. It spikes the instant he shuts off the water, making him much, much colder than he expects, threatening a whine in the back of his throat. It disappears a moment later but it leaves him shaken.

 It’s only when he opens his bathroom door and Roman turns around that he realizes what must’ve happened.

 Roman smiles softly, his hand coming up to reach for him. Logan comes, letting him take his hand and pull him close.

 “Hey, there, Specs,” Roman murmurs, “you’re all clean now, hmm?”

 “Yes, I—you—why—how—“

 “Janus came to have a talk with me,” Roman says, cutting off the rest of his babbling, “even though most of it I already knew. I’m sorry I didn’t realize you getting stuck earlier, I know that can’t’ve been easy.”

 “…it wasn’t.”

 “I’m glad our snake took care of you.”

 “Remus helped too.”

 “And Remus,” Roman amends, still smiling as he tugs Logan closer, “but you’re still…?”

 Logan’s face falls; he can tell by the way Roman makes a soft noise and raises a hand to tuck his hair back.

 “Oh, sweetheart,” he murmurs, “may I take care of you?”

 “You don’t have to.”

 “I know, I know I don’t have to, but I want to.” Roman draws back a little to fix him with a look. “Because aside from your brain not knowing whether it’s going to get stuck again, I know two things are going on in there.”

 He softens a little.

 “Let me guess: part of you is trying to convince itself that either you are useless when it comes to emotions and thus we don’t need you, or that you don’t have emotions and therefore you shouldn’t be feeling like this.”

 Logan’s mouth drops open.

 “Am I right?”

 “You—how—“

 “Because I know you, my dearest darling nerd,” Roman murmurs, smiling, “and I know that you know both of those aren’t true, but perhaps you need a little reminder sometimes, hmm?”

 He steps a little closer.

 “Janus is very good at pulling you out of your head,” he continues, still trailing his fingers through Logan’s hair in a way that makes it very hard for Logan to disagree with him, “but he’s not very good at keeping you there, is he?”

 “He’s good to us,” Logan mumbles, because Janus is, and he’s not sure what he would’ve done if he hadn’t shown up.

 But at the same time…

 “Janus is always a good person to go to first,” Roman says, as if he can hear what’s going on in Logan’s head—which, can he? Because he was spot on a moment ago— “isn’t he?”

 Logan nods.

 “He’s better at the first part than me, you know I can’t stop myself from spoiling you.”

 Roman chuckles as Logan’s cheeks flush bright red.

 “But maybe you need to get spoiled right now,” he continues, getting close enough to brush his nose against Logan’s cheek, “hmm? Let me take care of you?”

 “R-Roman—“

 “I’m right here, sweetheart,” Roman soothes as Logan reaches for him, “I’m right here…”

 Roman lies them down, pulling the covers down to let Logan crawl into the bed first and tucking them both back in. He reaches up to carefully take hold of Logan’s glasses.

 “May I?”

 Logan nods. Roman slides them off carefully and folds them up, placing them on the table. Now everything really is fuzzy, Roman’s face staying out of focus until he leans back in, close enough to be clear.

 “Give me a second.” Logan blinks and Roman’s also wearing a soft T-shirt and pants, smiling down at him. “There. Now I can cuddle you and I won’t hurt you.”

 “You wouldn’t hurt me,” Logan mutters as Roman props himself up on his elbow, running his hand through Logan’s hair.

 “It’s never my intention, no.” He leans down to press a kiss to Logan’s forehead.

 “Roman…”

 “Yes, sweetheart, what is it?”

 Logan shakes his head. “Nothing, just…just…”

 “Just what?”

 “…saying your name.”

 Roman’s breath leaves him in a rush. “Oh, sweetheart, let me be soft with you, please, let me look after you…”

 “Yes.”

 Roman lies down, swinging his leg up and over one of Logan’s. He’s warm, so warm, as his weight settles firmly in place. Unlike Remus, who stayed still, just holding Logan there, Roman moves almost constantly. Trailing kisses across his forehead, his cheeks, down to the curve of his chin, hands reaching down to clasps his and draw them up, next to his head, murmuring gently about how much he loves getting to protect Logan like this, how lucky he is to have Logan here, how sweet and soft Logan is for him right now.

 “Oh, sweetheart,” he whispers as he comes back to Logan’s cheek, brushing away a stray tear, “it’s okay, Specs, you’ve been so strong today.”

 “But I didn’t do anything,” he argues, “I—I wasn’t helpful at all.”

 Roman leans up a little to look at him. “You made us stop and realize how stupid we were being. We got it sorted out in about five minutes after Remus took you.”

 “But that wasn’t me.”

 Roman smiles, leaning to rub their noses together. “You said it yourself, even when you’re not physically present, you’re still a part of the conversation.”

 Oh.

  Oh.

 “You did so good today, Logan,” Roman promises, kissing his cheek again, “now relax and let me spoil you.”

 “Roman…”

 “Mm,” comes the mumble from somewhere near his ear.

 “Roman…”

 He can almost feel the quirk of Roman’s mouth. “Just saying my name, sweetheart?”

 “Mhm.”

 “Well then,” Roman murmurs, “just lie there and fall asleep to me, okay? I’ve got you.”

 Logan shuts his eyes and lets Roman cuddle him, feeling the warmth reach into his chest and gentle the stickiness away. Although…

 If this is what getting stuck will get him sometimes, maybe it’s not always an annoying inconvenience.

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[league-of-thots]

YeeHawks

Pairing: Hawks x female reader

Word Count: 3.3k+

Warnings: 18+, alcohol, riding, is cowboy kink a warning?

A/N: not the way y’all wanted me to return, but the way y’all deserve lol. i didnt really have the energy to give it an in depth edit but sometimes it be like that

         You wipe the sweat from your brow, the sun is high in the bright, cloudless sky. It means that the heat is just pouring down in waves from the sky though, and you curse the fact that you’d agreed to switch shifts with one of the other farmhands that had asked you the day before. Part of you wants to find Kirishima and reem him out, but you know he’s a sweetheart and wouldn’t have ever done something that would make things harder for you on purpose.

         Having said that, imagining giving the man a piece of your mind makes it easier for you to grit your teeth and put your back into heaving large packets of grains into a wheelbarrow for the pigs, so that you wouldn’t have to make as many trips. Instead, it would just be one hellish trip, and a lot less walking in the heat.

         Wiping the stray dirt on your pants you sigh. You feel sticky and can feel the grit on your face, on your arms. You must smell something fierce, though you know compared to the pigs you’d be feeding in a few minutes, you smelt like a bed of flowers.

         You feel the strain on your back as you finally finish loading the wheelbarrow and start to haul it over to the south side of the Academy farm. The ground is rough, and you feel the jarring of the weight in your shoulders, you’re going to be so sore tomorrow.

         After you finish feeding the pigs, you take the supplies back to where they belong and head off to start some of your final tasks of the day. One is milking the cows, and the other being your favourite, plowing some of the dirt to prepare for the new season.

         Is it a bit stupidly cliché that you love riding the big tractor while the sun lowers in the sky? Maybe. Is it worth it? Absolutely. It’s one of the best views you’ve seen in your life. Plus, it always helps clear your mind from a day of hard work so that when you enter one of the farmhouses, you’re ready to do whatever else you need to get done.

         When you park the tractor back to its spot in the barn, you see a few of the other farmhands talking together. They’re laughing with one another, and you wave to them as you walk out with your overcoat and keys.

         You’re in a daze until you realize you’ve somehow already started up a warm shower, standing under the steam to relieve your body from the stress of the day. Your muscles feel so much better with the hot water on them and the steam makes you feel as if you’re in stasis. It’s good because tomorrow is going to be a big day, the August festival, a celebration that the community holds as a sort of last hurrah before the season gets busy once again.

         After you’re clean and put together, you head downstairs to have a quick conversation with the couple other farmhands that share the house with you. You need to check if there’s anything else you need to do to help with the final preparations for tomorrow. The four of you had made some homebrew cider to share with the other townspeople, and it tasted quite good, despite being a little heavy on the alcohol. But nobody would be complaining about that, of course.

         “Mmm, I think its fine.” Mina says, faced scrunched up in thought. “We did pretty well with it for sure.”

         “I agree,” you reply. “Just wanted to make sure I could pass out for the night. I’m fucking dead.” She laughs a little at that.

         “Gotta make sure you have the energy for tomorrow. I hear that it’s going to be extra wild.” She waggles her eyebrows. “You know that there’s going to be a horse-ridin’ performance from our sheriff’s department, but there’s also gonna be some cowboys over here to show off some of their skills too.”

         You’re slightly intrigued at that. Maybe, you’ll even get to see him again… but, better not get your hopes up too much. Instead, you say, “That would definitely be a treat for all the hard work that this year’s been.”

         Mina nods sagely at that. “If I see that blonde, twink of a cowboy I’m goin’ to make him my bitch. Because I deserve it.” That brings a snort out of you, but you pray a little for Denki if you do see him tomorrow, because lord knows he’s going to need it.

         The two of you chat for a little while longer before you wish her a good night and head up to get some rest. You do have a busy day to get ready for after all.

           You wake up early the next day, ready to quickly get your tasks done so you can let loose with friends and community members that night. You wish that you don’t have to do any work, but you can’t have everything you want.

         So, you drag yourself out of bed, muscles tight and body sore, to quickly grab a protein bar and a cleaner pair of working clothes. Your overalls are starting to sport holes and there are some dark stains that just won’t ever come off. You need new ones, you think, as you walk towards the horse pen.

         You love the horses, how sweet most of them are and how peaceful it is in their separated area. It’s especially nice in the early morning, with a crisp breeze and the sun peeking out on the horizon. You grab the feed mix that someone had mixed the day before and drag it over to the troughs, where there are already some of the animals waiting for you to arrive. The horses have learned to expect people in the morning, and some of the more assertive ones wait at the fence to be the first ones to get to eat.

         While they feed, you prepare the cleaning tools inside the small stable that is connected to the fenced off pen. You take each horse that’s finished eating into the small shelter to clean their hooves, brush out their mane and body, and then your favourite part, riding them for a few laps of the enclosure to make sure they run a bit each day.

         It’s while you’re dismounting a cute mare named Starlight when you hear a low whistle from behind you. Someone’s obviously been watching you, and sitting there just outside the enclosure.

“Damn, baby, wonder if you could ride me as good as those horses there.” You feel a vein ticking in your head as you recognize the voice. He’s supposed to be getting ready for the group event, not bothering you while you try to get some fucking work done before you can finally relax and celebrate.

         You turn your body and inwardly groan as your suspicions are confirmed, sitting there waiting is a certain cowboy who’s always managed to piss you off greatly every time one of his short visits brings him to the UA farms.

         “Hello, Hawks.” You grit your teeth as you move towards the next horse that you’re about to take care of.

         “I’m wounded, really, that you don’t sound pleased ta see me, angel.” There’s a satisfied smirk on his face. He really does get off on toying around with you and seeing how much he can piss you off. So, you take a deep breath and calm yourself.

         “Now, why would you expect anything different? I haven’t forgotten the last time you came aroun’-“

         He waves you off. “You’re bein’ ridiculous. It was a harmless joke.”

         “I had to clean the stables for TWO WEEKS.” He just laughs at your anger, totally unphased. It grinds your gears more, the cheeky grin on his face that charms everyone around him, whittling down your intense irritation.

         “Well, if anythin’ everyone else certainly enjoyed it.” You grumble out some choice words about him, making sure they’re loud enough for him to here, as you start brushing out the mane of the mare in front of you. He seems pleased with himself, leaning on the fence, head on his hands.

         “Do you not have somewhere to be? Something you should be practicing for?” He lazily waves away your attempts to get him away from the work you’d like to finish up.

         “Who needs practice? I know exactly what I’ve gotta do so there’s no real reason for me to waste my energy before the actual performance.” He says it with a casual arrogance, that you know comes from years of experience and absolute confidence in his abilities. “The only thing I wanna do right now is try all of the good I know y’all made for the party tonight.”

         You give him an unimpressed look. “Just because we know each other does not mean that I’m going to just give you the cider meant for the community.” He pouts “You can try it when everyone else does later.”

         “Yeah, but we have a special connection.” He grins and you splutter, embarrassed and trying to put away the memories of your bodies pressed together and calloused fingers in your cunt.

         “Jesus, Hawks. Shut up.” You look around furtively, checking to see if anyone would’ve overheard.

         “You like me loud.” God, his smug look makes you feel hot and bothered.

         “Get outta here so I can finish my work, damn it.” He just laughs, turning around before turning back.

         “You better save me some of the goodies y’all made up for after the performance.”

         “Yeah, whatever,” you grumble, face flushed and mind now distracted with memories of Hawks’ hands tangled in your hair.

           “Well, now. This is delicious.” Your eyes follow his tongue that darts out to lick the drop of the cider that had dripped onto his lips. You’d made sure to fill a plate up with the treats that had been spread around the outdoor tables, lanterns hung up around them not only for ease of finding them, but also to light up the evening. “You helped make this?”

         “Yup. You wouldn’t believe how difficult it was between never having done it before and Mina’s enthusiasm. God bless Momo, without her we wouldn’t have gotten it done.” He laughs, and you can’t help that you can’t keep your eyes off of him.

         He was slightly sweaty from his earlier performance, which had been perfectly executed, tank top tucked into worn jeans with a feather-like buckle. His eyes are scanning the crowd around as the two of you lean on the outside of the saloon, the inside being too filled with inebriated or high adults to even try to squeeze into a seat.

         “So, how’s life been around here since I last visited?” he asks between bites of some spicey brisket, obviously enjoying it.

         “Ah, not much. Just the usual social drama. Actually, Shinsou almost got his dick sliced off by some machinery someone had fucked around with. I swear to god that man has the worst luck I’ve ever seen.”

         “Holy shit, sure does sound like it.”

         “But yeah, it’s just living day to day for me now. Not much new happens out here, as you very well know.” He shrugs.

         “Might as well see. What’s even keeping you here, then?”

         “Not everyone needs to be on the road their whole life to be happy, Hawks.”

         “I suppose. More cider?”

         “Sure.”

           You’ve drank way too much, you know that. But the fuzziness in your head just makes you want to keep going, to have fun and make up for all the time you lose working long hours every day.

         Besides, Hawks is there beside you, egging you on and matching you drink for drink. His hands always seem to be on your body, either squeezing your ass, wrapped around your shoulders or waist. It makes you feel warm, and you know he’s teasing you, trying to rile you up. He wants to see how bothered he can make you before you snap and drag him off to some private place.

         You’re determined to beat him out though. So, you lean into his body space and trace your hands over his arms, the insides of his wrists. You hear his breath hitch, though his attention is kept on whatever conversation is happening in front of you.

         Of course, this is Hawks, who has just as much patience as a saint, despite being as far from one as possible. But you’re drunk and turned on and the teasing is too much for you to handle, so when there’s a brief pause in the activity around the two of you, you pull him down so you can whisper in his ear how much you want him.

         He grins, “Might as well head back to your place then.” You agree and drag him with you.

         The moment you’re in the house, you wrap your arms around his neck so you can bring his lips to yours. Its messy and rushed, but it’s relieving at the same time. The two of you have done this enough in the few times that he passes through that he’s comfortable enough to let you take charge for a bit.

         “You can’t even wait ‘til we’re upstairs, sugar?” he chuckles, drawing out each word. You feel the rumble of them, pressed up as you are against his chest.

         “Shut up, Hawks.” You grumble, pulling him towards your room if that’s what it’ll take to get his dick out faster.

         After rushing in the room, you kick the door shut behind you and immediately get back to kissing him. This time, he makes more of an effort to assert himself, holding your face in his hands and licking into your mouth. You sigh into him, your hands finding his heated skin beneath his shirt as the pace slows down from the frantic rush it had been. It becomes sensual, and you can feel him getting more aroused as he slowly shifts his hands, starting to grind into you.

         You pull away from him, getting some air as you start to take off his shirt. He enthusiastically moves to help and you get to admire his muscles stretch as he does. Obviously, life constantly on the road does wonders for your abs.

         “You too, sugar. You’re gonna make me feel underdressed.” He says as he moves to take off the rest of his garments. A laugh slips out of you as you hastily get out of your outfit. When you turn your attention back to him, he’s sitting on the bed and he gestures for you to join him.

         When you do, he kisses you again, intensely, as he guides you onto your back. You sigh as he kisses down the side of your jaw to mark your neck, reaching blindly for the lube and condoms beside the bed.

         He quickly slides it on and you hear the squelching of lube as he moves in a rush. You don’t have time to make fun of him though, because as soon as he’s finished, he spreads your legs and puts the head of his dick at your entrance.

         He groans, closing his eyes as he enters you, and its uncomfortable for a little bit. Soon enough though, you relax, and start to feel great as he moves his hips slowly against you. Hawks fucks deeply, you know this from your times before, but each time it feels just as tantalizing as the last.

         “Hawks, please.” You pant, trying to wiggle a little bit just to get some friction, some tiny relief for the edging you’ve been through. He just gives you a smirk, as he keeps you completely locked between him and the mattress. You tense so hard he groans on top of you, but he doesn’t let you move, dick still sitting snug inside your cunt.

         “Well, let’s see those barebacking skills you were showin’ off earlier then, hmm?” he says, his voice low and gruff. With ease, he gets the both of you turned around so you’re now sitting with your ass on his thighs, hands clamped tight on your waist keeping you in place while he lays back on the headboard. He nods satisfactorily, looking you up and down with lidded eyes. “Y’know, I like this view much better, baby. What a pretty picture you make right on top of me.” Part of you wants to roll your eyes, but the warmth that his words give you makes the impulse disappear.

         “You know, Hawks, in order for me to show you said skills, you’re going to have to let me move.” He laughs as you try and lift yourself against the pressure he’s putting, obviously unable to really do anything. “Seriously, you dick, lemme move.”

         “But the face you make when I play these little games with you is so cute, sugar.” He’s got a faux innocent smile across his face and you pout and cross your arms in response. “Okay, okay, I’m done. I promise,” he says, letting off all the pressure, but keeping the two of you connected at the hips.

         “Thank you.” you quip, starting a quicker pace than the one Hawks had been setting, gravity still making it just as deep as before.

         Being drunk obviously makes Hawks that much louder, or maybe it’s the change up in position, you can’t be sure. But, his praises, his deep moans, the lewd noises from the slapping of your body against his hips, it all makes you feel hot as hell.

         You look down, seeing Hawks’ eyes widened and excited, he grins when he notices your look and begins to rock up into you. You throw your head back in as he hits deep within you, crying out his name. Hearing it obviously enthuses him as he grunts in exertion, starting to thrust upwards harder, and you feel your body responding, muscles tightening as you get closer to your climax.

         “God, you’re gorgeous like this, y’know?” he gets out through gritted teeth. “I’m not going to be able to last much longer…” He’s panting, fingers digging into your hips sharply, sure to leave marks.

         “Please, I wanna cum Hawks!”

         “Tell me what you need, sugar, I’ll give it to you.” Hearing that makes you smile, he was always so attentive to your needs.

         “Touch me…”

         “You gotta tell me where for that.” Even when so close to his climax, somehow, Hawks manages to be cheeky. However, when he’s fucking you this well, it’s much easier to let the teasing roll off your back.

         “My clit, Hawks. You do know what that is, right?” He lets out a genuine laugh at that, before sending one hand down towards the bundle of nerves.

         It’s enough, between the stimulation and the deep thrusts into your cunt, that you feel yourself tighten and cry out, cumming hard onto his cock. You lean into him, kissing him hard as pleasure courses through your body.

         He works you through it, breathing heavily, you can feel his pulse skittering under your hands. You feel him twitch within you, and an idea forms in your mind. Mind wrapped up in pleasure, you act on the thought immediately, bringing your hands to his chest to play with his nipples.

         He loves it, making keening noises as you work, legs shaking with effort to stay up and keep pace with him. You let him take the lead and you hear him shout and arch up as you pinch his buds, feeling him release.

         He thrusts a couple more times, lazily and slowly, kissing the top of your head as you settle down to lie on his chest for a few minutes.

         You breath deeply, content in the moment. You know after you clean up and rest, he’ll be gone on the road once again, so you relax, enjoying the presence.

[tainted-wine]

Honorable Mention

I heard @lemonlordleah-shinzawa-kitten​ SOS signal to all Hizashi fuckers and I have responded accordingly. Sorry for being late to the party!

Words: 1.4k

Warnings: None, except for spoilers for the current arc.

The interview room was warmly furnished in a way to make guests feel at home, not like they were in a professional setting. The beams from the sun were perfectly aimed to make the smiling hero’s face glow. Attractive, and quite distracting. 

It was all going fairly smoothly so far. Hizashi held no animosity toward anyone for missing out on the Top 10 Party. Every question about his personal feelings on the matter was answered with something along the lines of “It’s nothin!”

“Not gonna lie, I’m bummed that I don’t get to wear the steampunk outfit they had planned for me. Have you seen the design? I would’ve had an entire phonograph attached to my neck!” He laughed and slapped the armrest of his plush chair. “But it’s not like I wasn’t there, I was the one announcing the winners. That’s what I do best!”

You nodded as you scan your list of planned questions. “That’s true. Your presence has always been there, especially in the anime.”

“Exactly! Who else is gonna call out new characters and explain their quirks? That role is for me and only me, baby!”

“I agree, but after the work you’ve put in during the War Arc, many of us believe that you deserve more love. Especially after your infamous DJ Punch.”

“Ohohohoo,” Hizashi chuckled lowly at the pleasant memory. “Now there’s something I want! A few more right hooks to that doctor’s jaw. Sometimes screaming just doesn’t cut it, ya know? I’d rather get a little more hands-on, ‘specially when things get...personal.” His expression flashed into something darker, but the mysterious thought appears to leave his mind as quickly as it came.

You ignore it and stay on topic. No need to make this interview heavy or distressing in any way. “It was a very pleasant surprise for us, seeing you get up close and personal like that. I never pegged you as the physical type.”

He shrugged. “I hear that all the time, but come on, what do you guys think I do when I can’t use my super hazardous quirk? Do you think I just stand there and commentate?”

Well, when he puts it like that... “My apologies, I suppose it just never crossed my mind.”

He held up a hand to halt any rising feelings of guilt. “No worries, listener. I don’t mind my reputation as just ‘The Announcer Guy’, it makes things all the more satisfying when I see the shock on a villain’s face after I bust his nose.”

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

Frankly, the interview wasn’t nearly as passionate and bitter as many were definitely hoping it would be, but you didn’t want to antagonize the friendly hero for the public’s entertainment. If the poll results didn’t bother him, then that’s just how it is.

After shaking hands, you both stood up and straightened yourselves out. You uttered a “thanks again” to him before taking your clipboard and pen, but Hizashi speaks up the second you take your first step toward the door.

“Y’know, it’s not that hard to throw a decent punch.”

You turn to him. “Is that so?”

“Yeah. How about a free lesson in exchange for a nice clean interview. I appreciate it!”

That’s...well, you had things to get done, but, “Alright.” Your interest in Present Mic wasn’t just an act put up for the sake of the interview. You're a genuine fan that isn’t going to pass up the opportunity to personally learn something from him.

The hero gently took your things and placed them to the side before taking his place right in front of you. “Okay, go ahead and take a swing at your boy.” His arms opened up, waiting patiently for your attack.

You shifted awkwardly, unsure of the proper way to punch, so you just ball your hand into what you believe is a decent fist and weakly shoot it forward.

A gloved palm stops it before making contact, his grip gentle yet firm. Emerald eyes examine your fist closely — it all has goosebumps forming on your skin for reasons you don’t know. Or at least you don’t think you know. “Not bad! Always make sure your thumb is on the outside and your fingers curl into your palm. Gotta take that impact without damaging your hand. Try again!”

You withdraw your hand and take his advice, positioning your fingers like he told you before launching another strike. He catches it again, this time with a hum of approval. “Ya wanna hit me with your knuckles, not the flat of your fingers. Turn it up and try again!”

You do just that. Another punch, another quick lesson.

Hizashi gets closer than you ever imagined, those talented hands positioning your hips and shoulders at more appropriate angles. “The power comes from your whole body!” He states before motioning for another go.

This isn’t at all how you planned to spend your break after the interview, but you had no complaints even as you exposed your clumsiness to the renowned hero. He was a teacher, after all. You just didn’t expect him to be as proficient at teaching self-defense as he was with English.

“So,” he starts up while casually catching your fists. “How did you personally feel when I punched Dr. Douche in the face?”

The question makes you pause, but a quick gesture from Hizashi urges you to keep going. “I...well, it was admirable.”

More than that. The raw fury emitting from the normally carefree man when he charged Ujiko was...enticing. Exhilarating.

It was hot, alright? It was pretty hot, but you weren’t going to tell him that.

“Thanks! Good to know that breaking jaws gets people pumped! I’ve heard a bit of feedback from my dear listeners. Some found it shocking, some found it kinda sexy.”

Well shit.

“I can understand that.” It left your mouth before you could even think. Why the hell did you even comment on that, you idiot?

Hizashi quirked an eyebrow and grinned. “Can you, now? Give me your two cents on it.”

Your stance falters and you almost fall forward during your next swing. You thankfully catch yourself before he can do it for you. That would’ve made matters even more awkward. “That’s—of course, it’s common to find sudden aggression in an otherwise friendly person attractive.”

“Is that what it is? I just gotta do less screaming and beat more faces in so that the ladies will find me hot?”

“Of course not! You’re always—”

You stop yourself.

Whoops.

Hizashi lowered his shades just enough to give you the smuggest look that has ever graced his face. “Always what?”

Shaky stutters and darting eyes are your answer. Desperate to ignore the heat rising in your face, you fire a punch that’s much more powerful than intended.

Even with the added speed and force, he sees it coming and not only catches it, but sends your entire world spinning when he pulls you forward and twists your arm until you’ve completely twirled around with your back pressed against him. It all happened so fast that you didn’t even notice the startled squeak you made.

Your wrist is being held tightly against your lower back. The breath from his chuckle can be felt against your ear which is way too close and you might melt. “Uh-oh, someone just got a hold of you!” He exclaims in a fake panic. “How do you get him off?”

Shut up, brain. That probably isn’t what he meant.

Wanting to escape his grasp before he notices the effect he’s having on you, your free arm whips back with the limited amount of room it has, hoping to knock him back and loosen his grip, only for him to catch your other wrist and wrap your arm around the front of your body.

“Yikes, that didn’t work either!” The bastard had you trapped, his hold getting tighter every time you squirmed. You should probably stop because he’s only getting closer, his chest rising and falling against you at a much slower rate than yours. “Looks like you’re in trouble!”

One minute you were having a professional conversation with Present Mic. The next, he’s giving you a free fighting lesson. And then the next, he has you completely subdued and pressed against him.

And with his voice low enough to make your body shake, he speaks right into your ear again.

“I think you’re pretty hot too, listener.”

[sorry-i-ship-drarry]

Hair dye and braids

For you @iamactuallya-cat . I tried my best I promise and I'm still not satisfied

It was a typical November in London, with soft raining which hasn't stopped in the past 2 days . Harry was sitting outside on his porch he had constructed, wearing a light brown sweater with a coffee and music playing on the player. He was thinking about the article in the daily prophet about Harry's new revelation by Rita Skeeter. It was only a few days ago when Harry had came out to the world despite the fact that his friends knew for the longest time that Harry was bisexual but the amount of howlers he's been getting all day was annoying to him. It disrupted his fine evening. He remembered Draco calling him the first thing in the morning

" it doesn't matter what that annoying slimy head says Harry. She doesn't know anything about you. Your friends does and that's all that matters. We still love you for who you are and you know that. She can go on about how it might've been a public stunt but Nobody thinks that Harry "

" it doesn't matter Draco. I don't care-"

" you know what you need, you need to show her in the face that it doesn't matter. You do exactly what you like. Dye your hair if you like , wear a dress if you like, paint your nails if that be it. The politics would soon die out -"

" Draco i- I need to be alone right now. Hope you don't mind " and harry cut the call with a sigh.

All his life, Harry had been someone people expected him to be and less of who he actually is. Somedays he thought it was better to just go along with the flow, be exactly what people wanted him to be to avoid people hating him more than they normally do but someday's he felt like he was too much of what people wanted him to, to the extent he kept other people's opinions first and last his own. He had understood it the hard way that no matter what happens there's always going to be people who doesn't like you. When a man like albus dumbledore he looked up to could be hated then who was he in this pitiful world.

Harry soon caught a glimpse of his reflection on the French window by his side, he saw what people wanted to see, he didn't see himself but what people made him. He frowned at his own reflection. When he looked in the mirror he didn't know who he saw, it upset him. Harry ran his hand through his hair thinking the same thing over and over until he realised he's thinking of people who isn't here with him when he's lonely. They're out there, maybe on a date, maybe enjoying a trip with their family, doing something somewhere and they weren't thinking of him. And then he realised, it was he himself who thought what people thought. It was one version of him telling him what people thinks of him when in reality nobody really cared. Nobody really even cared about someone until it was life or death. He looked out only once before he collected his coat, wore his shoes and left.

" yes I called on my way over for an appointment " Harry asked the receptionist. He gave him a charming smile Before he asked him about his name and lead the way inside.

" I think I like this one " Harry examined the magazine carefully before putting it away and nodding, that's what he wanted. He had decided and now there was no going back.

It was 3 days later when Harry was applying his perfume when he heard the door bell rang. Harry immediately went to open to door to find Draco.

" we need to get - wo- y- you look different " Draco stuttered when he finally landed his eyes upon Harry.

Harry smiled at draco and let him in.

" I went for a bit of change and I know we decided to go for black or grey but I felt like dark green suited the best with the new look but you know it almost looks black. What do you think? You think Ron and mione would like it?" Harry asked as he walked into the bedroom to check once again in the mirror .

" i- " Draco cleared his throat and spoke , gaining his voice again " I thi- I mean they won't mind. I think they'll love it " if Draco hadn't turned around Harry would've definitely seen Draco trying to contain his Infuriating blush.

" you know you still haven't told, how do you like it ?" Harry asked smirking putting on the cuffs of his sleeves.

Draco opened his mouth but only incoherent words came out. Out of surprise himself raised his eyebrows and tried again " do you want me to get you something to drink. I don't think your throat's fine Draco " Harry asked lightly grasping Draco's elbow but Draco Only closed his eyes and shook his head.

" what made you dye your hair blue ?" Draco finally asked after a few moments

" well it was actually your suggestion. You told me if I wanted to dye my hair I should do it or if I wanted to paint my nails or wear a dress , I should do it. I only went with hair dye but I'm planning on applying nail paint whenever I get a chance. I still think the dress part should be reserved, I don't think I would like it very much but I liked the hair part. Besides it's not even the entire hair, it's just the roots " Harry explained as he now sat down and started putting on the shoes.

" I didn't think -"

" that I'd actually do it. Well I didn't think I would too but guess here we are " Harry replier smiling.

" and now your braiding your hair " Draco sat down putting his hands in his face, exhaling.

" is everything alright Draco ?" He asked leaving his hair to fall out.

" i-" he cleared his throat again

" are you sure, you don't need me to get anything to drink?" He asked again

" I'm fine Harry. I think the room is a bit less ventilated. Don't you think. We should open the windows. Oh but no it's raining outside-"

" Draco " Harry held Draco's hands when he kneeled down in front of him " breathe. It's fine. I am still getting you water,okay " Harry smiled at him.

Harry soon returned to the room with a glass of water in his hand and gave it to Draco and resumed trying to braid his side. Draco remained silent for the rest of the time and watched Harry getting ready, which didn't take more than 10 minutes but Draco was sure if he opened his mouth nothing coherent would come out. He would rather stay silent than sound like a monkey trying to explain Harry how he looked.

When Harry was done, the last thing he had to do was put on his coat and when he did so he turned to Draco and raised an eyebrow asking him how he looked.

Draco inhaled then gave him a big smile " like you'll steal Every man and woman's heart "

" well there's only one heart but that also works " Harry chuckled and soon enough they left.

The more Draco looked at harry at the party, little by little he lost his sanity. The man looked perfect, beyond perfect if it were possible. The way his thick eyelashes Settled on his prominent cheekbones and they way his lips looked the perfect amount of red, the way his lips turned into a beautiful smile any time someone would say something nice , the way his green eyes reflected with the suit he was wearing, it was all beyond perfect . Draco couldn't take his eyes off Harry, he looked just like the man of his dreams but then again he already was the man of his dreams just today he couldn't contain himself even a little bit with his hair dyed light blue with braids and the Slytherin-ish green suit. How could he, Harry looked flawless. There was something so different about Harry today, he seemed confident in the way he stood, the way he carried himself and the way he had rolled up his black sleeves, it seemed so reckless yet so beautifully confident, like he didn't care about the world anymore. He remembered Harry in suit from before, the way his suit used to look lousy on him or the way they didn't cling perfectly to his body but today, everything about his body looked so put out like he was showing it off to the world, the way his pants were just so perfectly fitting and how it put out Harry's ass that he never really had a view of and the way his shirt was clinged enough to show that Harry worked out. He could list everything about Harry that looked perfect but Every time he saw him he saw a different part of him that made his heart to skip a beat. Draco wondered how had his heart had not stopped beating yet !

" you are basically eye fucking him at this point Draco " he heard pansy say following Draco's line of sight.

" how can anyone not ? Just look at him pansy. That man is way out of my league " Draco sighed and finally took his eyes off Harry, decided he had stared enough and staring was only Making all of it harder on him.

" well to be honest, for the first time potter does like someone who is out of your league. He could even woo me today and I'd gladly go along with him. Has his arse always been this delicious ?" Pansy narrowed her eyes trying to see his arse properly but Draco immediately covered her eyes with his hands.

" now a woman can't even watch porn " pansy sighed and leaned back in her chair. Blaise laughed at her comment which only made Draco groan. It was true though, eye fucking could Only go this far.

" I'd like to present a toast to my beautiful best friends" Harry had got up on the stage with a glass of champagne still looking mighty as ever.

" if I could talk about how I had to see them pining after each other for years I would but Hermione made me promise to give a sentimental speech on her engagement. So mione this one's for you. I never believed love could be found in one person but when I look at the two of you, I see the way you two look at each other, like you're each other's halves and maybe you are. If fate exists then I think you both were and will always be destined to be together. Happy engagement to my parent's cum friend's. I couldn't had done anything without you guys. I love you guys so much and no not that way Ron" he ended his speech with a raise of a glass.

" that man can talk too " pansy smirked.

" apparently he's the most eligible bachelor in the entire party, hell he might be the most eligible bachelor in entire Britain. Why does he have to be like this pansy? This way I'm never getting him even in a million years " Draco groaned as he drank his champagne again and resumed eye Fucking Harry.

Draco soon discovered that his line of Vision grew smaller and somewhat more magnified . He almost spit his drink when he realised Harry was coming towards him.

" hi pansy, Blaise and you, the man who's been staying away from me all night " Harry sat down in front of Draco smiling.

" was just gossiping about my lonely life with them and boring them " Draco told him

" well, you're not the only one. Wanna dance ?" Harry asked so causally as he tugged his suit closer to his body that Draco almost didn't catch it . He was almost confused whether he should be listening or simply looking at harry.

" what ?" Draco asked still shocked

" come on let's dance " Harry offered Draco his hand and hesitantly Draco took Harry's hands.

" you sure ?" Draco asked forgetting all about how good Harry looked but simply concerned about the way Harry just approached, knowing how it would create a Chaos soon and there would be another article about Harry.

" absolutely" and harry meant it.

When Harry and Draco reached the stage, it was a surprise how easily they had aligned without difficulty and so in a very delicately perfect way with Harry's hands rested upon Draco's waist while Draco's hands were hanging Around Harry's neck.

" it's a nice song isn't it ?" Harry asked slowly swaying to the music while looking at Draco.

" it is " Draco smiled

" how was the conversations with people ?" Draco asked not looking away from his face.

" frankly boring . I had to listen a lot about how little they knew of Ron and Hermione and someone's excitingly boring work trip . Nobody's as interesting as you " Harry shrugged his shoulders.

" oh is it so ?" Draco smirked. Harry tightened his grip around Draco's waist " yeah "

" who's your next dance ?" Draco asked. Harry looked at him intently before making Draco turn his head to the side.

" him" Draco followed Harry's line of sight almost disappointed of knowing the fact that he was on borrowed time until he saw his reflection in the mirror.

" we look good together don't we ?" Harry asked . Draco nodded biting his lower lip " yeah "

" I saved the dances for you. I was asked 5 times tonight for a dance you know " Harry told him looking in Draco's eyes.

" and why is that ?" Draco Whispered softly.

" because I wanted to do this " Harry replied looking at Draco's lips, pulling him closer so that they were almost pressed against one another " may I ?" Harry asked for consent. Only when Draco had given him a yes Harry had kissed Draco. It wasn't a rough or a hard kiss, it was sweet and passionate. It held something that would've said I've waited so long for this but there wasn't any urgency like they had all the time in the world to do it again. Harry's had slowly unconsciously tightening around Draco's back and Draco's hands resting upon Harry's neck. All those years of pining after each other Harry and Draco had finally Poured out everything in that one kiss. All those weeks of waiting to make a move on another only to be left with disappointment, all those times of watching each other from a distance , all those moments of waiting for the right moment had finally paid off.

" you can kiss too potter" Draco said teasingly as they separated from the kiss, pressing their foreheads together.

" I can do a lot of things malfoy. Maybe tonight you could see a few of them" Harry smugly replied but before Draco could've said anything else, Harry had kissed him again. This time with much more passion than before.

" get a room " Blaise yelled from behind them leaving them startled.

" we might zabini " Harry winked at Blaise..

" you want to leave early ?" Harry asked when he turned to Draco still breathless from all the kissing.

" only if I get to touch your hair " Draco smirked

" who do you think I did the braid and hair dye for " Harry asked him mischievously.

Harry realised in all his time with Draco that the world didn't matter anymore, what people thought of him didn't matter anymore as long as he knew the one man he wanted loved him just right. For there can be no love without hate , he settled with the one man he had once hated. Maybe sometimes hatred can turn into love and sometimes not and harry was perfectly fine either way.

Side prompts I've worked on - habits of my heart

Requests open for this

[ldouble]

Helluva Party | Steve Rogers x Reader

summary: As a former employee of S.H.I.E.L.D (on the very front lines), you're somehow pulled into attending a notorious Tony Stark party. That’s where you meet Steve Rogers, officially, and the two of you weirdly click. Two people - trying to make a new life, who keep getting sucked into their old ways.

characters: steve rogers x reader

The elevator effortlessly glides up, but your stomach feels like you’re on the twistiest and turniest roller coaster. You have to put a hand to your torso, repeat the words you tell patients when they feel sick for no reason, remind yourself it’s nothing.

Therapy is one thing to talk someone down from. When you’re calming someone down, its because they’re about to do some major self discovery, scientifically aided, and healed if not completely cured.

They have no reason to worry.

And neither do you.

But Stark Tower is intimidating. Especially when it hosts everything you’ve been trying to forget.

You got a fresh start last year. S.H.I.E.L.D fell. Your work dried up. There was no where else you were needed. Enough had been accidentally cut on your watch with your knife throwing skills. So you did what you always wanted, before your deathly hobby turned into a career. You were now working as a psychiatrist. You got out of your own head to get into others.

Now, you were suddenly crawling back into the brains that you had almost become.

The stop of the elevator had you poised to hit the close door button, ready to make your way back down to the lobby to grab a cab home to your apartment. But your psychologist mind took over, the practice what you preach mentality overtaking, and your finger fell.

By the time the doors opened with a ding, your chin was up and head held somewhat high. It was the quickest reset you had ever performed. If only you had your notorious notebook to jot down how it had worked so well.

You had just remembered the old receipt in your clutch (dated with the last time you dressed up which was ages ago) that you could write on when someone yelled your name. At the sight of Natasha Romanoff, the idea of writing down your findings flew out the window.

“Nat!” You smile, accepting the Russian’s hug.

She reciprocates the action, asking more questions than you usually got out in an hour session with a routine client.

By the time you had make it to the bar you are filled in on all she had been up to, the details of the latest mission in retrieving of Loki’s scepter and all things Bruce.

Natasha gulps at you look once she finished retelling the doctor’s recent findings with the tesseract. She was already shaking her head at your silent implications when you placed a gentle hand over hers.

“As a doctor myself,” Natasha rolls her eyes at the mention of your new job. “No one talks that much about me unless they like me way more than a doctor.”

Natasha bites her lip, mumbling something about how you outfit was too nice to kick me. You laughed, a hearty laugh you hadn’t felt in ages. Upon seeing her recognize the newfound happiness you shooed her behind the bar in ask for a drink. 

She waltzes away giving you just enough time to collect yourself once again. You hate to admit it (acceptance was always the hardest step of grief) but you missed her. You missed the days of fighting, working, living and saving.

It was harder to see the goals you met in your new line of work. It took years to build a client base, see your patients make progress, feel like you’re helping people when all you can do is listen.

It never felt good to kill someone. The sound of a blade whipping through the air was satisfying but nothing felt better than knowing there was less person doing the opposite of helping. Hurting. Hunting. Killing.

So why did you feel like you were doing something similar not being in the field?

You blink the thoughts away, turning to wave Nat down for something a little stronger than a beer when you saw her chatting it up with none other than Dr. Banner. You shake your head, your eyes moving back down the bar.

Your focus is caught by a brooding blonde. A literal God, named Thor. But its his neighbor that makes you freeze. Tony Stark never really had that effect on women (it was his money that enticed them not his looks) but the mere sight of him makes you gasp.

Your last conversation hadn’t been the most pleasant. You had refused a job at Stark Industries, believing you needed a clean break. He had pressed you to the point of pure anguish. The last thing you remember saying to him was something along the lines of, “You can’t ask me to stay to help you sort out whatever that is.” With a point at his head.

You quickly turn around, not wanting a repeat when he already had a glass of champagne in his hand. Sober Tony was obnoxious. Intoxicated Tony was a whole other level of big headedness.

You make your way through the party, ignoring the likes of anyone who looks remotely familiar. The few who had stayed loyal to the real S.H.I.E.L.D rather than turn in favor for HYDRA had come over, just like Tony asked you to. It was unclear who was worse to be trapped into a conversation with - someone who knew why you were no longer involved or those who didn’t.

You find your way up to a second floor hallway, one side looking out onto the party while the other faced the skyline. Uninterested in people watching (a reason that sounded much more mature than not wanting to be recognized) you face the large windows out onto the city.

You spin on your heel, your eyes traveling from the lights outside to inside when your eyes glaze over the very face of the Avengers.

But it isn’t Captain America’s face that caught your attention, rather the conversation his friend was spitting.

“Avenging is your world.” Sam Wilson, The Falcon, shakes his head into space, before turning to face the party just across the aisle. “Your world is crazy.”

It was your turn to shake your head, biting your lip in a weird resonation of his words. His next words, be it ever so humble, about the entire situation.

He was right. You know it, too. This world of fighting was hectic. Chaos. It really shouldn’t exist. But then you’d look out over some fancy party and it’s be easy to grasp. It wasn’t the alcohol or glamour, it was the aura that it had.

“You find a place in Brooklyn yet?”

The Super Soldier held back his own chuckle. “I don’t think I can afford a place in Brooklyn.”

It was hard to believe but easy to understand. It was an expensive burrow. Still, you found yourself laughing under your breathe.

Sam said something about home being home, which you also understood, but only between a laugh. Your breathy sound ends just as Tony’s favorite team member looked back at you.

The next thing out of your mouth was a gasp for air, followed quickly by a cough you tried to cover up. You face the window, trying your best to play it off. The sudden eye contact scares you. First it was the fear of being recognized. That outrageous thought was quickly thrown out.

The thing is, you hadn’t exactly...met him. It felt wrong to even think of him as Steve Rogers when you’d never been introduced. Anytime Nat mentioned him you couldn’t believe the first name basis they had. You weren’t starstruck - not by a lot. You’d spent time in labs with Iron Man and the Hulk. You grabbed coffee with Black Widow. Thor had given you a freaking birthday gift.

No super soldier named Captain America scared you.

Except the one sidling up next to you now.

“Hi, there.” He says, bending down to grab your attention.

And right then, after feeling immense anxiety and worry of coming face to face with anyone who worked for the thing you had left behind, you felt perfectly comfortable in front of their very leader.

You’d been listening to Tony too much, through Nat. Captain America was the elected leader. Tony just made everybody look good.

“Hi.” You say, bringing yourself out of your head.

His blue sparkled, a lopsided smile reaching his lips as his hand reaches out to you. “Have we met?”

“Almost.” You say automatically, the word being more of a thought you wanted to keep than share. You shake your head, correcting yourself. “No.”

“Steve.” He says after learning your name. You can tell the way he locks it away, his eyes slightly closed as if grabbing the word from your mouth and putting it in storage. “I’m sorry, were you almost put in ice too or did you see me through a subway door closing?”

You can’t help the smile on your face, his humor and charm exactly what you expected. “No.” A hand find your hair and you watches the way his eye tracked the small scar on your finger. It was from when you were five. You cut yourself with a knife, a knife you weren’t supposed to be holding. From that point on your swore you’d never hold a knife again if you didn’t know how to use it. You thought that meant culinary school. Not becoming a dagger throwing agent.

Your other hand traces the mark, that runs from the tip of your left pointer finger to the center of your knuckles.

“I used to be in a similar business.”

You watch Steve accept the answer, silently deciphering your words. To relieve him you continued, now having a better thought to go off of. “I save people. From themselves.”

“I’m a psychiatrist.” You conclude, wanting to put him out of his misery. You crack a smile, earning one from him. He bobs his head, looking out into the city, thinking. You could tell, again, facial cues. You did a lot of listening and watching now. A few years ago you would’ve thrown a blade to trap his shirt against a wall while another went to his throat to demand a response.

You sort of like watching him form his words.

A question, expertly designed, was on the tip of his tongue when a booming voice yells his name. Thor waved from below enthusiastically. You quickly turn, not wanting to start a conversation with the God of Thunder. He always seemed to get you into existential conversation. In the old English, and it being so late, you couldn’t handle it.

“Don’t leave him waiting or else he’ll send Mjollnir up here.” You say, already backing away.

Steve looks up at you, a playful smile hinted at his lips. But it didn’t reach the surface, curiosity and confusion at your sudden departure the priority.

You want to stay. But the thought of explaining...of answering...even the oh so amazing Captain America, has you wanting to run back to the elevator.

The only reason you exit the conversation rather than the entire building...is the slight beat of your heart and reddening of your cheeks at the idea of talking with him again. Unlike Thor, you could even get into all the existential stuff with him.

Exactly what the super soldier would deem too out of the box is on your mind when you run into the one person you don’t want to see. The host himself.

Tony takes you under his wing, literally, walking you around the party. Surprisingly enough, not once does he convince you to come back to work. He asks questions and wants to know all about you.

You oblige, enlightening him with tiny details. Your lack of confidence in the authenticity isn’t from lack of trust, but because you spend more time inquiring about him. Wordlessly, that is your psych perception takes over as you study him. You conclusion: he’s only asking about lowly you because he’s sitting high and dry. Which isn’t a new thing for Tony Stark, tech mogul and THE Iron Man. But something tells you his latest win isn’t one just shared with the public yet. Too good to be true, even to the optimist that is Tony.

He leaves you, letting you walk around for the rest of the party. Hours pass, partygoers dwindling both from the penthouse and your data set to people watch. Numbers low on who to analyze, you turn around in a circle, sure you couldn’t have taken in every person in attendance. A full 180 and you come face to face with the man with a target on your back.

He makes sure of your hunch, that he’s had it out for you, with the sly comment, “You ditch a Brooklyn boy for some Staten Islander?”

You look over your shoulder, playing along. “I was actually waiting for this guy from Manhattan to fetch me a drink.” You look back at him, his head titled in focus. You stumble for a moment, not used to the attention being on you. To the floor you say, “I don’t think city guys are good at service.”

“it’s a damn good thing you’re with a soldier.” He smiles, offering his arm as he steps beside you.

You hesitate, your knowledge on attraction and how one simple touch can lead to a million mistakes and miscommunications. You let your head take over your heart this time, walking ahead of him. “Last I checked, Captains don’t fetch anything for someone else.”

Accepting the (slight) rejection, Steve joins into step with you, his hands stuffing into his pockets. “You make me sound like Stark.”

“We all sound a little like him after too much time together.” You shrug. Catching Steve’s curious eye, clearly wondering how and when you worked with Tony, you saddle up behind the bar to distract yourself. “It’s called mirroring behavior. Say, I grab a beer you have a higher chance of doing the same just because of me.”

Steve smiles at you over the counter, watching as you open the bottle and take a swig. “But what if I just like beer?”

You roll your eyes, bringing the cider to your lips. “Or so you say.”

“You’re good at your job. Tony help you with that?”

You nearly choke on your drink. Why? It’s a toss up for the unexpected question or the tone of jealousy you think you detect in his voice. Upon looking at him you can’t see if your suspicion is correct. He’s casual, leaning an elbow on the table and gazing around the room without a care.

When his eyes find yours again you can’t help but trust him. You deem it the authority he has within his role, rather than something like the way he looks at you or how cute he is, before answering. “He wishes my career took me here. But after the collapse of S.H.I.E.L.D,” It’s Steve’s turn to look at you to ensure trust, your words an unspoken truth among so many secret keepers. “I found my way into a new line of work.”

You turn to your left, finding a spec on the marble to transfix on. When he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even chastise you for so openly talking about the failure of his former employer, you look up at him. Only for your eyes to track his, to none other than your hand.

You hadn’t even realized you were still holding the can opener. it was a wine/bottle mix and you had the corkscrew raised and the entire contraption being spun in your hand like....like a knife.

Mirroring. In a room of superheroes and fighters, you resort back to your own ways. You remind yourself this is exactly why you weren’t supposed to come when Steve speaks.

“Reading people?” He asks, genuine interest in his voice. You see his eyes barely flit back to your hand, forcing you to set the church key down, but ignore it, just like he is choosing to do. You nod. “Can you read them?”

You follow his finger, stifling a laugh when it lands on Nat and Bruce, clearly flirting just down the bar.

“Reading, not pointing.” You reprimand with sarcasm, quickly covering his hand. Heat travels up your elbow, your hand flying back to the cold corkscrew for comfort as you clear your throat. Steve’s eyes wanders away and for a second you think he felt it too when you shake your head. There are patients. No time to dilly dally.

After a moment you say,“From a psychiatric point of view, I’d say the male is exerting immense amount of dopamine, just getting by the stressors and paraysmpathic nervous system. Whereas the female’s self esteem is battling her body’s immediate release of cortisol.”

Steve looks up at you, his mouth hung open. As dryly as you can, you say, “He likes her and she likes him.”

It sparks a laugh from both of you, a long one that doesn’t end till he puts his hand over yours in an effort to stop. You let it rest, liking the feeling of the cold marble and his warm hand more than any old corkscrew.

“So how you going to diagnose them?” He asks, clearing his throat and suddenly removing his hand.

You tilt your head toward the pair - an assassin and a man who can’t control his killing - and take a second to think. That second is when Nat decides to leave, gliding past you effortlessly. As she walks by you say to Steve, more so to yourself, “It’s hard for people to hear the truth.”

Steve is looking over to Bruce when you tip your head back to him. You can see the question on the tip of his tongue and you want to stop him but he’s too quick.

Don’t play cupid, is the second most common thing you say to clients. Right after the ‘truth is hard to hear’ piece.

You can’t help but put your head in your hands when he outrightly says Bruce and Romanoff “is nice”. It’s a psychologists worst nightmare. Not the one you thought you’d see play out but it’s happening, so you can’t help but listen.

It’s the way Bruce stumbles in reply that sends you walking down the bar. You throw Steve nothing but a “watch yourself’ look before listening from your new spot.

You clink your nearly empty beer bottle on the counter when Bruce comes up with an excuse. It does more than you plan it too, as it grabs Steve’s attention and has him going for another one and making his way over to you. You can’t help but notice the way he smiles sincerely at his friend when announcing himself a leading authority in waiting too long. The statement makes you pause, but not long enough to miss Bruce asking about exactly how close Steve was to Nat’s flirting..

“Pointing works.” He says when he arrives in front of you, the unopened bottle extended (if not pointed) directly at you.

You accept, clinking off the cap with the opener still in your hand. “Yeah, yeah.”

He watches you take a sip, his eyes once again telling more than he thinks they do.

Your hand, once again holding the opener in the knife-life way is his next question. For once, you want to keep the conversation about work.

“My job is to listen. What you just did was talk.”

Steve mulls it over, taking the beer form your hand and tipping it back. He holds it out you, in offering. “OK. You talk. I’ll listen.”

You bite your lip. Knowing this could be bad. There’s a reason you listen. Talking...it’s like any pointy object for you. Someone always ends up stabbed.

Then again, how seriously injured could Captain America get? You already have one scar. A “Star Spangled Man with a Plan” shaped wound could be your next story.

A new blemish never arises. You don’t even feel so much as a pinch of pain. Talking to Steve, for hours, makes you feel about as painless as you been ever since you left the line of work.

Then again, your old career never makes an appearance in conversation. He did ask about your current career so that’s what you talk about. Psychology. Which leads to music. TV. His favorite food and how its Apple Pie. He doesn’t listen when you insist Pumpkin is better.

Your love of Chinese food is perfectly timed to the late night order, scoring you a seat and a plate at the after-party, so to speak.

That’s where you find yourself, on the couch with a small cluster of people. Most of which are the ones you had planned to ignore. Rhodey, Tony, Clint, Maria Hill, and Nat don’t as much as eye you suspiciously, thankfully. Besides, you mostly people watch, only talking when Steve wants some insight on whether or not Thor is really spiking his drink or giving him something watered down.

You share a look with Thor, encouraging the addition of it into Steve’s next beer, when Clint questions the God’s almighty hammer. You laugh when Clint looks at the thing bewildered at his inability in to lift it.

Steve joins you in softened laughter at Stark’s attempts. His head finds your shoulder when Rhodey and him quarrel about representing in their effort to pull the hammer off the table. But he refuses to make so much as a peep when Banner tries to “Hulk” it up, saying he doesn’t want to hurt the guy’s chances with Nat.

Before you can tell him Bruce could do no wrong in the red head’s eyes, it’s Steve’s turn. The way he rolls up his sleeves, making it clear he’s taking it seriously, has you silent. You can tell a lot by a person in the way they go about a challenge. it doesn’t surprise you at all, despite the short time you two have talked, that Steve goes for it.

It’s no shock at all that your attention switches to Thor. The look of panic, which you’re sure only you are watching, astounds you. Never once had the God been this nervous. But here he was, holding his tongue as Steve nudged the alien club up.

Steve comes back to you in defeat. You offer him a supportive pat on the back, having his eyes for all but a moment until everyone’s eyes land on you. Recognizing Nat just turned down the offer you shake your head. “Lift with your brain, not your weak bones.”

Steve gives you an impressed look, opening his mouth to call you out when Hill remarks the use of bad language.

“I had a feeling you’d be a stickler for that.” You theorize aloud.

Steve looks at you over his shoulder, raising a brow. “Oh yeah?”

“Oh yeah.” You reiterate.

Thor proves you all wrong, effortlessly lifting his weapon of choice, declaring no one worthy.

The group laughter is cheerful and it warms your heart. Something about comfort between all of these people who live so dangerously, intrigues you. Your mouth opens to ask Steve how he’s come to trust them when a high pitched noise floods the space and has you covering your ears.

Your breath catches at the sight of a botched bot, standing in the shadows. Its robotic voice, oddly human, has you biting on your lip. It’s been a while since you’ve been faced with anything worse than a crying client.

Something tells you this won’t end in tissues and a hug.

Steve, who stood upon the unaccounted for noise, says Tony’s name with more frustration that you could ever imagine coming out of the man. You look up to him in surprise, only to look back at the way his hand is flexed in front of you. It’s a poor job at guarding you but something tells you that if he had his shield within reach he’d have grabbed it already.

The bot piques yours interest, his mumbled statements about his own sleep like unscnoius state making you nervous. The way he’s so...real...takes forefront over Tony’s own whispering. But even without your focus directly on him, something tells you he’s unsure. It’s never a good sign when the host is surpised.

You slowly stand as the intruder fumbles with himself. You’re studying him so discreetly you actually wave away Steve’s warning hand.

“You killed someone?”

“No he didn’t.” You murmur, only loud enough for Steve to hear. He gazes back at you for a moment and you shake your head, confirming your suspicion. The...thing in front of you is no real killer. Not yet.

When Tony’s voice rings out from the bot the tension rises in the room. You couldn’t cut it with a knife it’s so thick...which takes a lot for someone with the throwing capabilities of yourself.

You don’t mind it, knowing the pressing threat stands in front of you rather than beside. The wise words erupting from the in flesh Ultron has you racking your brain...about nothing less than the brain in front of you. Computers have never outsmarted you. Then again, it’s been a while since you’ve been around Tony.

His building - in tone and message- signals something much more violent is about to begin. No sane person builds a mountain of words not to stand on it later. Maria Hill cocks her gun as you take in your surroundings. You believe a chopstick to be your best option for a weapon, at least one you can throw, when the crash of walls begins the battle you were really hoping not to get into tonight.

It’s like Steve senses your lack of protection, taking it upon himself to upchuck the table for cover. Instinctively, you crowd down in front of the couch, just missing the hit that Steve takes with the attempted cover.

A big part of you wants to make sure he’s OK, scream his name and chase after him, but it’s not the time. People come to you to recover with your help. Steve isn’t one of those people.

So, you go into survival mode.

You army crawl across the room, watching every disappear from the main level. They’re smart enough to find cover and/or a weapon. You, out of practice and way out shape, head across the room...you know, to the empty space ensuring no safety.

Catching sight of Nat, now armed, you duck down knowing there has to be a gun stashed somewhere. It’s not your first weapon of choice, having never trusted a bullet as much as a blade but something is better than nothing.

And nothing is what you find.

You graze every table you can, certain it hasn’t been long enough for you to forget what a gun feels like, when spot Nat and Bruce flying up the stairs.

Sure Nat has already pleaded with the doctor not to turn green you avert your eyes to Stark, flailing on the back of a bot with what appears to be a fondue fork. You’d kill for a fondue fork right now.

What catches your eye instead is something much less picking. It’s perfect timing too as you spot Dr. Cho crowding behind the piano, face to face with a waist up robot, hand glimmering and all.

In a split second your hand grasps around the candlestick and you toss it through the air. Despite the noise you hear its whistle and while it’s really not the time, you relish the sound that you missed so much.

It hits the neck, chopping off its head just as Steve clambers on top of it, chucking git to Thor to smash, to ensure it’s no chicken working with its head cut off.

A shield wizzes past your head, slicing another member of Ultron’s army seconds later.

Its lonely leader speaks next, chilling the charged air.

Before you know it you’re flinging the other candlestick (it is a set) at Ultron, stabbing his arm. It earns the tines looks of him before a dry chuckle. You don’t take your eyes off of him despite the stare you know you’re getting.

His next words are directed at you. “You just didn’t think it through.” His knowledge of what feels like the entire world makes you believe that while his idenity is still a mystery, yours is not to him.

Your presumption is all but proved when his crumbled form sings the infamous Pinocchio song. Not once was it sung at the party. Everything his at his finger tips. Yourself included.

The blue of his eyes fade but he surely doesn’t leave the room. Tony sighs, clutching himself on the stairs. Thor breathes heavily hwile Nat looks worridely at Bruce, who appears on the edge of vomitting up all the food he didn’t eat a the party. Cho looks terrfiied. Hill and Rhodey on the lower level.

That leaves Steve. Watching you.

In four steps he’s at your side, his hands on your arms as he checks you out. Not like that. You remind, tell, yourself its not like that as you meet his eyes.

“Im’ fine.”

"That’s not what I was going to say.”

“Guess you’re better at reading people then.” Humor has always been your go-to. There’s not anything much heavier than blood and blades. The least you could do is quip something light.

Steve steps forward, his voice dropping just for you to hear. “I was going to say you’re a damn good throw.”

The End

[kj-1130]

HIRAETH

Chapter 6

Main Masterlist

     At 19, Christine never expected to be where she currently was. Instead of spending her time at college parties or planning out her marriage (something her parents wished for her to do), she was attempting to run away.

     She just wanted to do her own thing. She was tired of trying to fit everyone’s standard of who they wanted her to be. She was tired of considering everyone’s thoughts and feelings and opinions except her own. 

     Christine was just utterly exhausted.

     There was only so much more she could take until she snapped. 

-

     At age 21, Christine began to make a name for herself. 

     At first, it was making street medicine. When people caught wind of what she was doing, many were crawling towards her, desperate to do her bidding and help themselves grow as well. 

     It was where she first started really. One person suggested the idea of making it a small gang and everything just seemed to grow from there. 

     The gang developed from street deals into the very beginnings of a whole cartel within just a year. With that ‘pre-cartel’ brought a lot of enemies and people who were envious of Christine’s success. 

     She doesn’t think she’ll ever forget how her first taste of revenge felt. 

     On October 31, 1996, someone thought it would be a good idea to try and sabotage her. Christine had been sabotaged one too many times whether that be self-sabotage or by a member of her previous community. 

     The fact that they thought they could trick her--that they thought she was so foolish. It made her angry. Absolutely livid. 

     The woman watched as her henchmen dragged in the scum by the shoulders and dropped him on the floor. She watched them kick him in his ribs. She heard each satisfying pop of his bones. 

     She watched as her right-hand men forced him to stand. And then, she watched him slit his throat with a kitchen knife. 

     Christine remembered tilting her head, watching the man bleed out. Then, she grinned. 

     Watching him suffer made her happy. What a great birthday that was. 

-

     It was December 31, 1998.

     Christine had thrown a party for the New Year. Her place was filled to the brim with high-up partners and clients. Strobe lights flashed and the floor vibrated with the bass of the music.

     She had just pushed one of her wing-women against the wall, nipping at her neck. It wasn’t uncommon for her and Adeen to mess around every once in a while. It was a great stress reliever in their opinion.

     At the entrance, two bulky men stalked in, looking as if they were hunting for their next meal.

     They searched the dance floor, trying to avoid the sweaty bodies and sky-high patrons who could barely stand on their two feet. 

     Just as Christine was placing her lips on the woman in front her, a tap reached her shoulder. The leader dropped her head down with a sigh, before turning around to face the men with an annoyed look. 

     “What?”

     “We need you to come with us.” 

     After a moment’s consideration, she turned back around towards Adeen and tapped her cheek. She gestured towards her henchmen and leaned towards her ear. 

    “You know what to do,” Christine whispered. 

     Her wing-woman nodded in response and walked off, but not before giving the two men that interrupted their time together a dirty look. 

     The leader waltzed off of the floor and headed towards her private office without so much as a glance. 

     “What can I do for you, boys?”

     “Bogomolov has a proposition.”

-

November, 2000

     Christine watched as the other scientists strapped down the young boy to the metal slab they called a table. 

     The woman couldn’t care less about his little screams of terror or the thrashing of his limbs. She just hoped they wouldn’t have to sedate him because she had other ‘projects’ of hers that needed to be tested and not enough time in the day. 

     “What number is this?”

     A gravelly voice spoke. 

     The scientist looked to her right and connected gazes with a tall man that had a dark and mysterious demeanour.  

     She looked back down at her tablet after assessing him with her eyes.

     “I don’t care about who it is. I just need him to sit still so I can see if this stuff works or not.” 

     The man whistled lowly and raised his eyebrows in response. 

     “Feisty,” he muttered. 

     Dropping her arms to her side, Christine looked up at the stranger with an annoyed look on her face that she didn’t even bother trying to hide. 

     “I’m sorry. Did you need something?”

     “Nah,” he said, shaking his head with a small smirk. “Just wanted to meet my new lab partner.”

     “Excuse me, new what?”

-

January, 2003

     If there was one thing Christine hated, it was James. They had been working together for almost three years now and she still couldn’t stand his cocky little attitude. 

     They had just been called Bogomolov’s office and walked on opposite sides of the hallway to get there (well more so Christine than James. He just found it all amusing.).

     When the two arrived they were greeted with the older man and files. 

     “You two have an undercover mission.” 

     “Ah,” Christine interrupted. “I don’t do missions, especially not with him.”

     “I wasn’t asking,” Dima responded, raising an eyebrow as if challenging her. The woman huffed and flopped back into her seat. 

     “As I was saying, I need you two to grab some intel for me.” 

     “May I ask where?” 

     The old gentlemen turned towards James with a blank face. 

     “Alaska.” 

     James looked at him in confusion.

     “Now stop interrupting me. You’re going undercover as a couple. A party in Canada.” 

     “That’s quite vague,” Christine mumbled.

     “You leave tomorrow.”

     The two stood and made their way to the exit, one with a frown on their face, the other with a giddy smirk. 

     “Oh cheer up, princess. You get to spend some one-on-one time with me!” 

     “Yeah, that’s the part I’m dreading.”

-

February, 2003

     She hated James. Hated him more than anything on the planet at the moment. 

     How dare he let her sleep with him while they were both drunk. I mean, yeah it was good but that doesn't mean she necessarily wished for it to happen!

     Storming down the hall, Christine banged on his bedroom door. After a couple of seconds, the door swung open and the woman barged in. 

     “If I end up pregnant, it is all your fault!” 

     “Woah, woah, woah,” James exclaimed with his hands raised in mock surrender. “Cool it, princess.” 

     Deeply annoyed, Christine took in a deep breath to contain the urge to knock out his stupid, perfectly straight teeth. 

     “Wh-why did we do that?” 

     “Well you were all up over me, mama,” James said with a cocky grin. “I was just following your orders.” 

     The woman opened her mouth to reply but instead was fighting the urge to gag. 

     “I am too nauseated to continue this right now.”

     Christine made her way to the man’s bathroom and hunched over the toilet. 

     “Fuck you, James!”

-

December 22, 2003

     Christine screamed in agony as she was told to push another time. 

     “I’m going to chop your testicles off!” 

     “I’m sorry! What do you want me to do?” 

     “Just hold my hand.” 

     James held out the appendage and winced as the woman in labor latched onto it with a death grip. 

     It was five grueling hours that Christine had been in labor and she had only recently started pushing. 

     It was another hour until the woman held her baby for the first time. 

     As the newborn drifted off to sleep, the scientist looked up at James with a small smirk on her face. 

     “You thinking what I’m thinking?” 

     With an identical expression, the man locked eyes with her. 

     “You know I am.” 

-

     “So she was born into HYDRA,” Sam started. “That means there most likely won’t be many records of her existence.” 

     “Poor girl never stood a chance,” Natasha muttered, flipping through the few notes they were able to retrieve. “Says here, they were attempting to create connections with the deceased.”

     “With everything we’ve experienced, I wouldn’t be surprised if they found a way,” Wanda stated, slumping back in her spot.

     As everyone continued to look through box after box, Bucky sat in his seat trying to remember. 

     A lot of it was fuzzy, but thankfully there were a few breakthroughs.

     He remembered hearing Karima and whoever W1498 was, having many conversations together. He remembered the countless times one tried to take the punishment for the other. 

     But the most prominent thing was when they talked about the voices. 

     Bucky can still faintly hear the whispers of Karima saying, ‘the voices are so loud,’ or ‘can you keep it quiet, Zee?’

     “W-we never talked about why she was doing this,” he spoke up.

     “Didn’t you say you were pretty sure these were revenge killings?”

     Steve asked. 

     “Buck’s got a point,” Sam spoke. “I mean, if it was revenge, wouldn’t she have been at least a good halfway through the staff by now?” 

     They all sat back and thought. 

     “You did say she was talking to this ‘Zee’ person when she said she wanted to make them hurt like they hurt them, right?” Natasha asked. 

     “Yeah but we can’t ignore the part where she said it felt like her heart stopped,” the former winter soldier spoke.

     “My thing is,” the red-head started. “Is that if these were revenge killings, why would she go after W1498’s handler? They probably rarely made any contact.”

     Steve turned to face his friend who had his eyebrows furrowed in deep thought. 

     “Any more memories, Buck?”

     “I remember Karima talking about voices and asking ‘Zee’ to make them stop.”

     Rustling paper broke them out of their little huddle as they directed their attention towards the witch.

     “Says here that W1498 got moved out of that base around Christmas of 2018.” 

     “Didn’t Fury start sending surveillance over there around January this year?” the captain spoke.

     Wanda nodded in response and flipped through more documents. 

     “Last record of movement was said to be around February. Doesn’t say what happened to all of the people or why the base was suddenly abandoned.”

     “So if our girl was close with W1498,” Tony started. “It coulda really pissed her off when they moved ‘em.” 

     “What if Karima’s looking for her?” Sam suggested suddenly. “I mean, you have W1498’s relocation which Karima would’ve suffered from. ‘Zee’ practically helped her with whatever ‘voices’ Bucky was talking about. They took the one good thing from her; it would make sense if she snapped.”

     “That would explain why she went after their handler,” Natasha added. “She had no idea of her friend’s whereabouts ,the obvious choice would be to go to their handler and at least try to get some information.”

     “What about the sudden abandonment of the base?”

     “We don’t know the full extent of her powers,” Steve said. “We don’t even know how she killed the agent.” 

     The captain looked around at the few Avengers who were spread out across the common room as a pang of hurt stuck him. 

     He simply took a deep breath and stood. 

     “Let’s take a break. We’ll regroup either later today or tomorrow.” 

     With that, everyone left, ready to take advantage of the rare relaxation they had.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

Hiraeth Taglist

@lizlil, @bellero, @ravennight41, @yasminwashere, @cay-writes-fan-fiction514​

Permanent Taglist

@stillmanicc​ @annestine​

[inb4belphienaps]

so i’ve been writing some stuff for diavoloxsatan based on the barbatosxsolomon story i did (which i’ll link here and here)

this is the first part and unfortunately, it doesn’t have smut but!!!! that’ll be coming in the second part hehe

Diavolo laughed behind his teacup, his golden eyes forming crescents as his mind ran through the events that had unfolded before him. It wasn’t unusual for Asmodeus to show up at his castle unannounced, but the timing had been a little too opportune. He had already had his suspicions when his watch showed that the pair had been missing for more than ten minutes. Clearly, it had been something rather important.

So when Barbatos returned, taking his utmost care in trying to feign composure, Diavolo figured it better that he investigate. He watched Solomon closely, admiring the sorcerer’s ability to keep such pleasantries despite his questionable morals, and found the surface rather lukewarm. Humans, immortal ones at that, were rather cunning, weren’t they?

But he didn’t like the discomfort radiating from Barbatos. He was a simple man with a tendency to put others’ needs before his own. He was also someone Diavolo cared for dearly and any lines crossed with him, were lines crossed with the future king.

Solomon’s personality tended to have him make pointed comments here and there, which were still carefully considered to a point. Unlike MC who could meander through different topics of conversation like water, Solomon could have it come to a standstill, only relenting after he’d gotten what he was looking for.

He watched as Solomon too, put up a front and tried not to appear overtly relaxed. Taking a bite of one of the desserts Luke had brought, Diavolo could see the answer staring back at him, as clear as day. Yet the absurdity was enough to make him think twice. What else could explain the strange atmosphere or the way in which Barbatos couldn’t meet Solomon’s gaze for more than two seconds?

How else would they have disappeared for such a prolonged period of time when he was unaware of any other matters the two had scheduled previously? Why else would Barbatos’ normally pristine uniform look a tad out of place? The more he inspected their micro-expressions and the words left unsaid between them, the more Diavolo realised that Barbatos wasn’t going to tell him anything.

Simeon noticed it too – Diavolo’s watchful eye and Barbatos’ timid nature amusing him to no end. Had Solomon not been directly involved, Simeon thought, he would’ve found a similar amount of entertainment. And his fans wondered where he got his inspiration from.

“Do you mind if I come with you to the House of Lamentation, Asmodeus? I have more to discuss with Lucifer.”

Asmodeus offered a sly smile, his perfectly manicured hand that had been resting on Solomon’s shoulder now perched under his chin.

“By all means, Lord Diavolo. I’d be delighted to take you.”

And with that, the pair left. He knew Barbatos would find a way to have the residents of Purgatory Hall also bid their farewell. Solomon had looked quite satisfied before their departure, like a feline basking in the glory of a successful hunt. If worst came to worst, he could, however, rely on Simeon who wasn’t one to overstay his welcome.

As he walked quietly beside Asmodeus, he thought to himself – it was obvious what they’d been doing. The reason for it though, Diavolo had to be sure. In all the years he’d known and worked alongside Barbatos, he knew the man to be of discipline, never one to abandon his duties. Was Solomon capable of triggering this oddity all by himself?

“What a pity I didn’t get to try any of Barbatos’ treats today.”

Diavolo hummed, his expression composed and his eyes steady while he looked into the distance – sentiments not quite caught by the fairer demon.

“Feel free to drop by again later. I’m sure he’ll be able to make you something.”

An offer that made Asmodeus squeal. He was awfully excitable at the best of times and it was this naivety that he admired in the other. If his father had taught him anything, it was how to read people. And to get answers, it helped to be patient. During moments of familiarity, secrets tended to slip out, worming their way through cracks that had until that moment appeared invisible.

“Lucifer’s probably still in his office. As much as I hate to leave you all on your lonesome Lord Diavolo, I do have a party to get ready for.”

“Thank you for accompanying me, Asmodeus. I hope you enjoy your party.”

With the wave of a hand that signalled he would, Asmodeus ascended the stairs, carrying a trail of perfume in his wake. Diavolo stood at the entrance for a second, barely able to catch the fading footsteps of the former as he followed behind in his stead. Dare he risk getting caught snooping just to tail Asmodeus? These demons could be a real pain to deal with regarding his personal decisions and defensiveness seemed to run amuck in the family.

As luck would have it, Lucifer was not at his desk but rather draped over one of the armchairs next to it, having dozed off while listening to some music. The poor thing looked exhausted and already a plan was beginning to form in Diavolo’s mind.

He bent down to remove the needle from the record player so Lucifer could snooze in silence. Except the movement alone caused the eldest brother to stir, red eyes coming into focus and going wide at discovering Diavolo’s silhouette in front of him.

“Shit, is it time for our meeting already?”

Lucifer quickly got to his feet, pinching the bridge of his nose with a gloved hand and wondering why it was that he’d managed to fall asleep. Sure, exhaustion tended to creep in on him at all hours of the day, but his magic could usually keep it at bay. That and the fact that he was a demon – a being with resilience and power to spare. Being caught like this was just humiliating.

“Not to worry, Lucifer. I didn’t come here for anything urgent.”

“Oh…”

A beat of silence and some confusion followed.

“Then…why are you here?”

Diavolo chuckled, a light rumble that caused Lucifer’s eyebrows to furrow a tad further. Was he going to be punished for sleeping on the job? Was it going to be cruel and unusual?

“I’m here to insist that you take a vacation.”

Oh no. This was indeed both cruel and unusual. Was this Diavolo’s way of saying he was fired? He was much too kind to say it outright. Or perhaps he was going to be replaced by someone younger, less likely to be lulled into slumber. He shuddered at the thought and put his paranoia off on his recently awoken state.

“A vacation? Lord Diavolo, around this time of the year is when we’re the busiest. I don’t think me taking some time off would do any of us any good.”

And he smiled. The princely bastard had the nerve to smile.

“This being the busiest time of year is precisely why you should take a break.”

“But then…but who in the Devildom will you find to fill in for me?”

The man brushed a spot of imaginary dust off the little display the record player was on. Lucifer felt his brain kick into overdrive as he tried to remember if he’d wronged Diavolo as of late, whether he’d crossed an invisible line or worse, whether he’d seemed inept.

“Satan.”

Satan?

Lucifer spluttered, his voice coming out a tad more indignant than he’d intended.

“I don’t understand. Although he’s a member of the student council, you’ve never asked him to do something like this before.”

“Why not start now?”

He frowned, completely at a loss for words.

“Lord Diavolo, please. If there’s something I’ve done, something I’ve said- “

“Lucifer, my friend, we are well past the stage of childish antics like that. I trust you as much as you trust me. I’d simply like for Satan to fill in for you for a couple of weeks.”

Was that really all there was to it? He had a sneaking suspicion it wasn’t, but who was he to pry. So, he relented. Perhaps there’d be something he could enjoy from this – starting with Satan’s suffering.

“Shall I relay the news to him then?”

The record started playing once more despite neither of them moving to do so, and Diavolo nodded, not a sliver of emotion betrayed him. Suddenly it felt hilarious. Was Satan going to suffer the wrath of Diavolo? Then again, Diavolo tended to ask things of others that Lucifer would never think to ask. Right. Maybe this was a good thing.

“I’ll be sure to stop by later once I’ve arranged a few things. If you could tell him before then, that would be great.”

A wicked smile graced Lucifer’s once drowsy features and Diavolo loved to see it. Finally, they were on the same wavelength.

[inkstaineddove]

Asystole

Ships: AusHun

Characters: Hungary, Austria; mentioned Prussia

Summary: His empire failing, Austria is desperate enough to make anything work. His empire failing, Hungary is desperate enough to finally break free. One of them must give.

Vienna, 1867.

Erzsébet padded across the hallway, spine stiff and shoulders rolled back. A minute before, some poor servant had been tasked to play the messenger, urging her to head to the office straightaway. Ordinarily, this sort of urgency would’ve shocked her; today, it was expected. All people talked, from the lowliest maid to the richest of emperors, and word of their machinations never seemed to escape her. Plus – if she allowed herself a moment of honesty, instead of falsely praising her cunning – her politicians had told her everything. There truly were no surprises.

Her first sight upon entering was that of Austria, scowling down at whatever papers were before him. She wondered when she had last seen him smile – and not the fake one he flashed at diplomats and hangers’ on, but the real one. It couldn’t have been years, could it? It seemed true enough, but for his sake she hoped she was wrong.

“Are you intending to get your face frozen like that or do you just enjoy tempting fate?” Hungary slid into her seat as she spoke. Her voice lilted up in a way that would sound like gentle teasing to the untrained ear.

Fortunately, his was trained perfectly to her pitch. He rolled his eyes and leaned back in his chair, looking as if he was in no mood to be messed with. He’d been looking like that a lot recently. It disappointed her, only because it put a damper on her fun. There was little joy in kicking a dog while it was down, even one prone to biting.

“Would you prefer I pretend to sit here, giddy about all my misfortunes? If you wanted that, you should’ve convinced your boyfriend his time and resources would’ve been better off warring with a different enemy of the hour.” Austria attempted to keep his tone dispassionate, though it didn’t work. Try as he might, it never did.

She sniffed, scrunching up her nose. “Do you have to call him my ‘boyfriend?’ That sounds so…juvenile.” It was a minor thing to pick a fight over, but she certainly wasn’t going to over whether Prussia’s war had been legitimate. There was no need when they both agreed.

“I feel I have to because, if I didn’t and forgot my restraint, I’d be tempted to call him something awful like your little bitch, but I would never. I’m above that.” Austria smiled, all teeth and hostility, and Hungary wondered how nice they would look knocked out on the floor.

She flicked her wrist dismissively. No reason to get herself worked up over something so petty. There was business to discuss and deals to be made. She leaned her weight onto the arm of her chair. “Can you just tell me what you want? You know how it is, so many rebellions to plan and so little time.”

A quirk of an eyebrow was enough to show his displeasure. “Not like you to play the fool. There’s no reason for you to pretend to be so unaware.”

“If I didn’t pretend, you might get curious on my methods. If I reveal my hand, there goes whatever illusory personal freedoms I have. You want me even more miserable than I am?” His silence was the answer she wanted. She smiled, resting her cheek on her hand. “So, tell me. What does Hofburg have in store for me?”

“You’ll be thrilled to know that for a change, it’s an offer instead of an edict. I don’t see any point in attempting to sweeten reality to you – you live here and you’re not an idiot, after all. The empire, my empire, is in an increasingly bleak situation. You would think this would endear me into the hearts of all my subjects, but I suppose I underestimated how deep nationalism’s poison infected their bloodstreams,” Austria rolled his eyes at his own foolishness. “Yours being the most infected – and, as you love to remind me – being the most likely to one day succeed, a deal needs to be made to quell their bloodlust.”

That certainly was one way to put it. Hungary couldn’t stop herself from laughing, unable to look at Austria’s overly serious expression or risk breaking into hysterics. Taking a deep breath, she composed herself, though still with a noticeable smirk. “Bloodlust? Really, Roderich? They want independence, not the death of every Austrian. Who has the time for that kind of petty revenge?”

He scoffed, clearly insulted. “As if they’d be capable of that. If I had to sacrifice a few peasants here and there to keep them peaceful, I wouldn’t bat an eye. My kingdom for a commoner is a trifle. No, the blood they want is mine. They want to see what I’ve built up over the centuries diminished in months, in days. I’ve jumped into wars for less, you know as much. Unfortunately, I don’t think we’d fare well if an army were sent in and the backlash for such a heavy-handed move doesn’t make it worth the trouble.” He shook his head, clearing his mind of useless plans.

Hungary pitied him. Look how desperate he was to hold onto something so ephemeral, so meaningless. Empires came and went like the seasons. Here was a man who thought himself wise, yet he couldn’t grasp such a basic tenet of their existence. She had learnt it; so had Poland and Lithuania and every other plaything these so-called ‘powers’ sought. It was a lunacy, one that infected all of them the same. Now his was crumbling all around him and instead of attempting to move on, he would drag out the process. It was predictable and entirely disappointing. Despite having no reason to, she expected better of him.

She sighed and turned her gaze away from him. If she stared at him any longer, she’d feel nauseous. “What do you want from me?”

Relieved to be back on track, Austria’s body became less rigid. “Nothing, really. My offer is quite favorable to you. Our marriage, partnership, whatever descriptor you prefer becomes one of equals. Complete control of your lands returns to you. You’ll have the privilege or the torture to pore over the minutiae of whatever half-formed, barely coherent policy is cooked up by your own hacks in Budapest. Christ, am I normally this cynical?” He shook off the self-awareness. That could be dealt with later or, preferably, never. “Really, everything you’ve ever harassed me and all my various rulers about is now yours. You lose nothing in this arrangement.”

“Everything, bar the most important thing. Just because it’s been roughly twenty years hasn’t changed what the people want. You’re not giving me anything you view as important. Ruling my people has become an inconvenience, so you’ll hand it off to me. Ten years ago, you would’ve been insulted at the prospect. And now the insulted party will be us.” She sighed, shaking her head. “Why is conceding so difficult for your lot to do? Clinging onto everything will only make the inevitable that much harder.”

His eyes narrowed as he stared her down. “Nothing is inevitable. We’re in a difficult spot, but we’ve been through those before. As long as I bide my time and there’s no more incidents, everything will be back on track and no one will make anymore of their bitchy little comments.” The way he sneered as he said that last part, she was willing to bet that bothered him more than anything else. He tried smiling at her, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “I’ve conceded a lot to you with this. Fine, you’re not quite independent, but it’s just as good. In some ways, I’m doing you a favor. Foreign policy is such a nuisance. All of them are sharks, all of them would be circling you, sniffing out fresh blood. Europe isn’t how you remember it.”

Hungary grinded her teeth together. Patronizing, always patronizing. Even desperate for her assistance, he couldn’t view her as a peer. And then he wondered why she behaved the way she did? Why, sometimes, she can’t even stand to be near him? He was dumber than he had any right to be.

“Do you think I’ve been completely isolated from the world? I know how they all act, how they all think. The only ones I’d have to worry about fighting off would be you and Russia, and without me, what army do you have?” She smiled, enjoying how that blow landed. How could he argue against it? He’d said as much to her – sometimes with pride, sometimes with fear – many times throughout the years. “And believe me, I would love to strike out on my own and form my own alliances. I can think of a few who’d be more than happy to spurn you with a treaty or two.”

He folded his arms over his chest, staring at her with derision. “Insulting me won’t get you what you want, Liebchen.” He practically snarled out the nickname. Pet names had always been their favorite weapons. “This is the only deal you have. I don’t get all your bitching either. We negotiated with two of your most darling heroes. There’s no need for you to be putting up this much of a fight. Will you ever be satisfied with anything I do for you, or should I learn to accept your eternal disdain?”

She took shaky breaths through her nose. That was hardly enough to constrain her. “Perhaps I’d be more accepting of the terms if you’d bother to invite me to negotiations! I appreciate,” she roared the word out, her fury overtaking her, “that you were oh-so-fucking considerate enough to know who I would’ve chosen to be my representative. And here I thought you only paid attention to my lands to slaughter innocents! But you have never, will never, respect me enough to listen to me on what my own goddamn people want! Deák and Andrássy are good men, but they know nothing compared to me! How many times must I scream this at you until you get it? If I’m not allowed to have any free will in this life, then so be it! That’s my curse, but at least let me speak on their behalf! Give me the chance, the fucking chance, to win them the freedoms it appears I’ll never have!”

She only realized she was leaning over his desk when she was done. Her rage, built up over the centuries, was causing her to tremble. Staring into Roderich’s eyes, she swore she could kill him. She swore she could and it would be the last time, the most permanent of his deaths. It was so vivid in her mind that, for a moment, she believed it to be reality.

What brought her back to the present was how utterly bored he appeared at her antics. Here was the same song and dance they performed for each other. Here it was, meant to play out for eternity. Why would he fear her? What could she do to him that was permanent? Nothing. The one thing she could, he locked it away in some deal she wasn’t allowed to be apart of.

“Don’t you ever get tired of carrying on like that? So sanctimonious. As if your cause is the most just. Do you have any idea how exhausting it is to be bound to you?” He shook his head. “I’m convinced that if you ever tried to shut up, it would kill you. Though, honestly, I’d be grateful for the silence.” As she sat down, he smiled with an unrivaled arrogance. “There. Now, please, Erzsébet, try to be reasonable for a change. There’s no use in becoming so hysterical over this. Everything doesn’t have to be such a battle. Fighting like this, you haven’t taken a break in centuries. Aren’t you tired?”

She would not be baited. She refused to tell him what he wanted to hear, refused even if it were partially true. “The only thing I’m tired of is being brushed aside, but I know not to expect change from you.” She looked outside the window and sighed. “The ink is already dried, isn’t it? I can’t stop what’s been put in motion.”

“For the most part. All it needs is ratification. Though, we’ve been assured that that won’t be an issue.” Once more, he relaxed against the back of his chair. His relief was clear across his face. “I’m glad you’ve calmed yourself of those delusions. While I can commend your…dedication, you’ll have much more important things to busy yourself with.”

Hungary smiled, pleased with his false sense of security. “You’re right, there will be. I understand that, at this point, I can’t prevent anything. But, when news travels around, most will not be happy. This flies in the face of everything they’ve worked so hard to achieve over these last few years. They’ve been sold out, and I’m inclined to believe them.” She licked her lips, savoring the moment. “So, when the people take to the streets, when they demand what they know is owed to them, I won’t try to smooth things over. Never again. I will be right beside them, doing whatever I can to rile them up. Whatever they choose to do, however they decide to handle this, I will support them with every fiber of my being. And if that creates problems for you?” She stood up, smirking and curtseying. “Solve them yourself. I’m no propaganda piece.”

Head held high, she began striving out of the room. It was the only card she had left, the only thing she could think of. With every step she took, she prayed he’d be as weak as she knew he was. He had said it himself, there was nothing he could do to fight anything. Today did not come about out of a position of strength for him.

“Wait, Erzsébet! Please, don’t do this.” She heard him rise, heard the soft steps of his feet. “If you do that, neither of us will walk away from this looking good.” A soft intake of breath from him. “For once, I’m not too proud to admit that I need you. But, please, don’t throw it all away over nothing.” His voice was gentle, as if he were pleading with a lioness and not a woman.  

When he reached out, she allowed him to touch her and spin her around. When had his hands last been that soft? Cornered, he was like a new man. “All you have to offer me is insults. What should I stay around for? I have more to gain away from you than besides you. I always have.”

“I know, dammit I know!” She watched his Adam’s apple shift as he swallowed. Roderich’s eyes were wide, all too aware that he was on the precipice. “Not now, though. You’re right, you’re my equal. I’ll give you whatever I can, within reason, to prevent that. Anything to prevent you from ruining me.”

The urge to scowl at his self-preservation was there. What else should she have expected? He was still Roderich; nothing could change the core of a man. Still, this was further than she’d ever gotten before. “You know me well enough to know what I want.”

“I assumed I did when making the last deal and look where it got me. Forgive me for wanting you to spell it out.” The beginning of a smile appeared on his face.

Erzsébet didn’t know whether to laugh or sigh. Feeling off-kilter, she settled for sitting on the sofa. “Not even you could mess this one up. I’m tired of sneaking around your back to leave the home. I’m not a young girl and you’re certainly not my father and you will stop treating me as such. If it’s that important to you, there’s only three places I’d be anyway, and you know them all. More importantly, start treating me like a person! You want your life to be less miserable? Then do yourself a favor and at least treat me with indifference, I’d rather that than constant disgust.” Her eyes met his and held them, challenging him to deny her. “And, whenever some big decision comes up, you better discuss it with me and actually give some consideration to my thoughts. You’re not any smarter than me and I’m as aware on everything as you are. If this is going to be both our futures, for whatever time you just bought yourself, then I’m not going to do anything to sabotage it.”

“That’s the very least of what I can do.” If she hadn’t known better, she would’ve thought she a flash of shame in his eyes. It couldn’t have been. She doubted that he could feel such things, so high were the walls he’d built.

She studied him skeptically. That had been far too easy. There must’ve been something he’d want in return. He couldn’t just have thought what he’d taken was enough. “Don’t you have anything you want from me? There’s no terms?”

Roderich paused, deciding his best course of action. He shrugged, apparently not finding any trap in her words. “Two. The first: cut off the affair. It can be anyone else, but not him. On a personal level, this will make me look like an even bigger cuckold than we all know I am.”

Erzsébet’s eyes hardened and she leaned away from him. “No, that’s out of the question.”

He frowned when she offered no further explanation. “Really? You could do so much better. Don’t tell me you actually love him.”

“You have no right to my personal life.”

“Right. I thought that was the case.” She couldn’t quite distinguish the exact emotions in his voice beyond disappointment and resignation. There was a layer to it that wasn’t simple to place.

He snapped her out of her thoughts when he spoke again. “Now, the emperor wants this sealed with some sort of formal wedding between us. I begged him to do anything but this. Unfortunately for the both of us, he thought it would make such a lovely story for the masses.” He gave an embarrassed smile. “I’m also not exactly asking for you to do this, since there became a gentleman’s agreement on it, but something that means much more to me.” He grew serious again at whiplashing speed. “Let me break the news to Gilbert. Give me the satisfaction.”

Erzsébet could imagine how it’d go. How the scene played out in her mind, it was horrid. Her stomach wrenched. “You’d wreck him.”

“That’s the point,” Roderich wore a cruel smile. He’d been imagining it as well.

“Why do you think I’d ever let you do that?”

He shrugged in an effort to appear nonchalant and failed. “Simple, really. If you tell him yourself, do you think he’ll believe you can’t just stop it? God, he’ll have every moronic scheme to prevent it and act all wounded when you tell him it can’t. I wouldn’t be surprised if he thought he were just your little plaything all along. Even though I have ‘no right to your personal life,’ as you so kindly put it, I’m no fool. What’s the point in risking it and being stuck with me?” He smiled at her, warm in a way she was unfamiliar with. His tone attempted to strike a friendliness that didn’t fit him. “If I do it, he hates me, comes sobbing to you about it, and you can both continue to curse my very existence. The status quo is maintained. It’s an obvious choice to me.”

She wandered if he’d prepared that speech just for now. It was tempting to ask him, but the knowing would be worse. Ignorance could, indeed, be a bliss. Erzsébet knew there was an ulterior motive for his words, there always was with him. He wasn’t Feliks, who she wouldn’t feel such guilt over listening to. Still, there was a human part of her that needed outside validation regardless of the source. “Do you think I’m a coward?” Her voice was so soft, she wondered if he’d even heard her.

“No, because I can understand it. Sometimes it’s braver to manipulate.” There was an understanding in his voice. She wouldn’t be surprised if this were coming from experience.

“Fine, but don’t be crueler than you have to. Try to have some compassion if you can.” There was a feeling of hollowness Erzsébet forced herself to ignore. Her life would be livable, that was what was most important. No one would have done it differently.

“He’ll get what he deserves,” Roderich bit back his irritation. They both knew who it was really for. Instead, he nodded his head and offered her his arm. “I’m sure you don’t want to spend the rest of the day watching me work. Allow me to walk you to the door.”

She politely took his arm. They walked in silence to the door, too busy was her mind for idle chatter. Anyways, hadn’t they said enough? Only on her way out did she smile at him and offer him her thanks.

He smiled at her. “Thank you. I promise I’ll make this worthwhile.”

[solllaris]

retrograde — 01

↳ here.

PAIRING: Frat!Tom / Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: It takes some convincing, but you ultimately agree to go to a frat party and are pushed out of your comfort zone in more than one way.

WARNINGS: language, underage drinking, anxiety/panic attacks, & insecure thoughts

WORDS: 5874 

NOTE: This series is my baby so please be nice. The reader’s fears and anxieties are basically a reflection of my own, so posting this makes me feel super vulnerable. There were many moments I seriously considered deleting everything I had made for this series because I was too afraid to put myself out there like this, but obviously I didn’t. I really want the reader’s story to help someone or make them feel like they’re not alone because anxiety can make you feel so isolated at times. So to the person reading this right now, to the person with anxiety or depression or whatever: You are not alone. You will never be alone. And I hope this story shows you that somehow. 

          series masterlist — masterlist — add yourself to my taglist!

Tortoise shell glasses the color of honey inched their way down the bridge of your nose again and you would’ve been greatly annoyed if your glazed-over eyes weren’t focused on the large plastic cup of coffee on the table. Fingers still tensed and poised over the laptops keyboard, your attention had shifted for the millionth time to the dark browns streaking through the blonde colored liquid at the bottom and your fried out brain was mesmerized by it. Anything was more intriguing than the open, half-way completed book review on your computer screen where the blinking cursor taunted you from the corner of your eye. At your wits end, you turned away completely with a groan that you stifled with a hopefully motivating gulp of your iced cold brew swirled with caramel.

Shoving the frames further up your nose where they belonged, you nursed the straw of your coffee between your tongue and teeth and glanced briefly about the room. The Learning Commons was fairly full for ten in the morning, but you weren’t too surprised; it was the go-to place to go — not only to get coursework done, but also to just unwind and mess around. That Friday morning hadn’t been any different from the rest and bleary-eyed college students milled about, drinking their caffeine from the God-sent Starbucks in the building and chatting to their friends through sleepy slurs. For a person who really enjoyed people-watching, the Learning Commons was the prime place for you to spend most of your time. You blended in and fell into the shadows just as you liked.

Blinking twice, you realized you had zoned out again. Your vision focused and you saw you had been staring blankly across the room at a boy drooling all over his open textbook. His slackened grip around his mechanical pencil kept allowing it to fall over in his hand, rousing him each time for only a few seconds and then he was out cold again. The sight made you laugh under your breath and you impulsively tipped your head back onto your roommate’s thigh from where she was sprawled out on the couch behind you. Just as you wanted, Scout’s fingers that had been raking through your hair stilled to let you know you had her attention.

“Look,” You said loud enough for her to hear over the raucous youths around you and discreetly pointed across the way at the sleepy boy. “That’s about to be me if I don’t get this paper done soon, I swear to everything Holy.”

A snort exploded through her nostrils and your head jostled with the movements of her leg kicking the guy whose lap they rested in. 

“Jude.” 

Another harsh nudge to his thigh and the frustrated boy mashed a button on his video game controller, a ‘paused’ message appearing on the flat screen TV. A harsh, pointed look urged her to continue so he could get back to his game. 

“That guy over there looks just like you.”

When you glanced back over, the drooling guy had completely given up on at least attempting to remain upright to look like he was getting work done. His cheek was smashed against the pages of his book, pushing his lips out in a pucker face, and his wrecked hair stuck up at odd angles on his forehead. An unbridled bubble of laughter threatened to come up your throat and you had managed to contain it — until a little string of drool puddled on the paper his cheek rested upon. Both you and Scout shook with the force of your giggles and you briefly found yourself thinking that it probably wasn’t that funny, but to a sleep-deprived university student it was comedic gold.

Jude must’ve shoved Scout’s legs off his lap if the loud ‘thud!’ of her feet hitting the floor beside you were any indication. They came dangerously close to knocking over your cup of caffeine — the only thing getting you through the early hours of the morning — and you were quick to snatch it up, cradling it to your chest like a protective mother. Your look of disgust towards your two friends was completely ignored, overlooked by Scout’s cry of protest and Jude’s annoyed, but slightly amused, glare at the girl.

“That’s what you made me pause my game for?” He huffed, tugging his fingers through his dark tufts of hair.

She shrugged, a shit-eating grin on her face as she plopped her warm toned legs back onto his lap. “Y/n said it first, not me.”

You were mid-sip, a mouthful of bitter coffee coating your tongue when you squealed a close-mouthed noise of protest, widened eyes flickering between your friends. 

“I did not!” You cried once you’d successfully swallowed without choking. “I said that would be me if I didn’t finish my paper soon.”

“Lies,” Scout muttered.

Twisting your body to face her, the back of your hand smacked against her bare outer thigh, a loud and satisfying ‘smack!’ emitting from the harsh flesh on flesh contact. Your puppy dog eyes turned to Jude, bottom lip jutting out just slightly and he laughed, the action making his irises twinkle and scrunch closed.

“I’d never say that about you, J,” You said cutely.

He bumped his knee against your right shoulder lightly, jostling you to the side, and rolled his eyes but the tiny upwards lift to the corners of his mouth told you he was far from annoyed.

“Alright, alright, I believe you.” He groaned, quickly flicking his gaze back to the TV and unpausing his game. “Fuck you and your puppy eyes.”

Grinning triumphantly, you sipped your coffee happily and flopped back against the front of the couch. The sleeping computer screen on the coffee table immediately put a pin in your bubble of contentment, an instant frown replacing the bright smile on your lips. You set aside your half empty cup with a heavy sigh and swiped a finger along the smooth track-pad, waking it from its automatic sleep to tuck back into the four page book review for your U.S. History class. The cursor blinked approximately five or six times before you began to type, but you had barely written three words when the glass doors of the Learning Commons burst open and a group of rowdy boys piled through the entrance.

Well, you thought. Maybe just one more day of procrastinating won’t hurt.

A muffled groan sounded from Scout. “Great. Your frat brothers decided to grace us with their presence, J.”

Your fingers went slack over the lit up keys and you slouched defeatedly; at the rate you were going, the outcome of your paper was beginning to look more and more dim, but the fraternity boys couldn’t care less that some people were actually attempting to get their assignments done by their due dates. They joked and jostled each other and you kind of hoped they could feel the blazing burn of your laser-beam glare you shot their way, but their oblivious grins stuck a pin in your wishes. You watched them for a moment longer as they split off, some falling into the snack bar or coffee line while others drifted towards a vacant table or couch; you took that as your cue to pack up your things and traipse across campus to the library. (Why did you pick somewhere so loud to write a whole ass paper anyway?)

Scout managed to tear her attention from her phone long enough to notice you zipping up your bag and beginning to stand. 

She quirked a perfectly shaped brow and asked, “Where are you going? It’s only 10:30; our Psych class isn’t until 12.”

“Thanks for the reminder. I wasn’t aware that the class I’ve been going to every Friday for a month now doesn’t start until 12,” You bit back with the most deadpan tone you could muster.

Jude snorted without taking his eyes off the TV, his fingers never ceasing their rapid movements between buttons on the game controller. Scout responded with a swift kick to said controller (which earned her a string of expletives as he fumbled to retrieve it off the floor) and waggled a chipped nail-polished finger at you.

“First of all, the ‘tude is not appreciated and second, both of your friends are sitting right here so my question is very valid.”

“Okay, rude.” You pouted sulkily as you gathered your hair to tie it up into a bun with the velvety pink scrunchie on your wrist. “And if you must know, I’m going to the library because it’s way too loud in here to write a paper.”

“Ugh.” Scout groaned and threw her legs off the side of the couch, rolling off onto the floor in the most ungraceful maneuver you’d ever witnessed in your life. “I guess I’ll go with you. I still haven’t finished that Biology worksheet due today.”

“Really?” You inquired absentmindedly as you fiddled with your messy bun in the reflection on your darkened phone screen. (She was taking forever and you needed something to do so you didn’t look like a complete moron.) “I finished it like the day she handed it out last week.”

You didn’t even have to look over at the caramel-skinned girl to know that she had rolled her eyes hard enough to get stuck inside her head. “Literally no one asked,” She retorted.

“Mmm, and to think I was actually going to give you all the answers..”

Just as you watched her expression morph into a sickly sweet one, a shrill whistle cut through every conversation in the room. The loud chattering of college students died down to muted whispers until the only distinguishable sounds were the whirring of the old air conditioning unit in the building and the clambering of shoes against wood; once you turned away from Scout you saw that the latter had come from a blonde boy in basketball shorts standing on a table in the center of the room. Kappa Sigma was emblazoned proudly across the chest of the scarlet colored hoodie he wore and you fought the urge to roll your eyes because of course he was in a fraternity.

The blonde frat boy’s voice faintly resonated in your ears, but you turned away from his dramatic display anyway to latch onto the sleeve of Scout’s over-sized Harvard University t-shirt. You insistently tugged on the crimson colored material because you really just wanted to get a head-start on your paper. Instead of relenting and following you, she simply shrugged you off and it was then that you got distracted with one look at a stupidly attractive guy in a stupidly, tight t-shirt.

If you had ever seen someone who was truly poured into a shirt it was this guy. The gray material was stretched taut across his pectorals and abdomen, dipping and curling into each chiseled line on his body. The stitching around the short sleeves looked two seconds away from ripping open as his biceps bulged from the way he stood with his arms crossed over his chest. You didn’t think the view could get any better until your eyes slid further up to a jawline that could probably cut straight through glass and to top it off, a head full of effortless curls—your ultimate weakness. You were pretty sure you were gaping open-mouthed at him at that point, but it wasn’t everyday that you saw a real life fucking angel on campus.

So yes, you gaped at him. Proudly.

Until you were caught...which you were seconds later.

Your heart dipped dangerously low in your chest and for a moment it felt like the warm blood in your veins had turned to ice. That feeling of sudden panic from such a cute guy looking at you prompted you to swiftly turn away; the cold you had felt literal seconds prior shifted to an uncomfortable warmth as the shock of being caught staring shifted to embarrassment. Your brain raced almost as quickly as your heart and you tried to pretend to focus on the blonde guy standing on a table to calm down, but then you made the dumb decision to sneak another peek.

Big, big mistake on your part.

Insanely hot frat guy was still looking at you. Not only was he still staring, but the beginnings of a smirk were forming on his pink lips and maybe he was not-so-subtly flexing his biceps. Seeing the corded muscles ripple and bulge under his tan skin truly was entrancing and if Scout hadn’t grabbed you by the material of your sweatshirt you would’ve stood and stared for a little bit longer.

Fingers snapped in front of your face and you blinked once, twice, three times before she really came into focus. She shot you a funny look and asked, “Seriously, what were you staring at?” She followed your gaze when your eyes instinctively shot back towards the insanely hot frat guy—who had thankfully looked away. “What is wrong with y—ohhh.”

A shit-eating grin stretched across her face and you immediately groaned. “Don’t start, okay?” You grumbled and finally managed to pull her towards the glass double doors. “He’s stupid hot and I was respectfully looking.”

Scout snorted from behind you as you held the door for her, both of you stepping outside and beginning the trek across campus to the library.

“You were point two seconds away from drooling,” She teased, bumping your arm with her elbow.

You felt the heat tickling at your cheeks and ears again, so you quickly changed the subject.

“Anyway,” You said pointedly, shooting her a look that could kill. “What was that whole ‘getting on the table’ display about?”

“Right. I forgot you were a little... preoccupied.” She smirked and dodged your incoming fist, giggling like a maniac. “Okay, okay! There’s a party at the Kappa Sigma house tonight.”

Scrunching your nose up at the mention of a party, you tossed your empty cup of iced coffee in a trash bin as you passed.

“Well, I have a hot date with Doctor McDreamy and I can’t miss it. You know how much I love me some Derek Shepherd.”

Just as you reached for the door handle to the library, she smacked your hand away with a serious expression.

“C’mon!” She whined, her bottom lip jutting out like a child. “You’ve never been to a party with me. It’ll be fun!”

“My definition of ‘fun’ is very different from yours, Scout.”

A sly smile turned her full lips upwards again. “Tom will be there…”

Your brows furrowed as you wracked your brain to put a name to a face. Tom. Did you know a Tom?

“Um. Am I supposed to know who that is?” You asked cluelessly.

Scout groaned. “Tom Holland. The guy you were ogling in the LC,” She explained with a ‘duh’ tone in her voice.

Absentmindedly you fiddled with the strap of your shoulder bag. You were already growing tired of the conversation and wished she’d just drop it; if anyone knew your anxiety situation, it was her and you thought she’d learned by now that you would never set foot in a party. Attending a frat party of all things was sure to bring on a panic attack and you’d rather not hyperventilate in front of a bunch of testosterone-filled college guys. No way in hell.

Exhaling an exasperated sigh, you shifted on your feet tiredly and let your head fall back towards the sky.

“Is that supposed to convince me?” You shifted around your friend and managed to snag the door open before she could stop you. “Because it’s not working.”

Save for a girl lightly snoring on one of the couches and a guy wearing glasses slaving over his keyboard, the library was practically barren. You immediately felt comforted as you traipsed along the outskirts of the large room, like a warm hug after coming home from a long day; except it was barely after eleven in the morning and you were ashamed to admit that you already needed comforting. Whilst another large exhale huffed past your lips at the thought, you dropped your bag down on the worn cushions of a couch pushed under a window and plopped yourself next to it rather ungracefully.

A rather loud thump resounded through the room as Scout carelessly deposited her own things on the floor by a comfortable looking arm chair; she simply shrugged at your warning glance, mumbling “those two are dead to the world anyway” under her breath and turned to pull a black binder from her backpack.

Soon, the silence between you two was filled with the clicking of your fingers across the keys on your laptop and the scratching of her mechanical pencil on paper. It was nice—relaxing even—and you sunk further into the soft couch that hugged your body, your mind only filled with the words you needed to get down to finish your stupid book review.

What kind of history class has to write a book review anyway? This wasn’t English.

You should’ve known it wouldn’t last.

A small wad of balled up notebook paper hit your left cheek, bouncing off and into the crack between the cushions. Before you could retort, she was already whispering vehemently.

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten about the party.” She stabbed her pencil in your direction as she spoke. “You’re going. Plus, I’ll be with you the whole night. Promise.”

Arguing with Scout was like arguing with a brick wall—pointless and you’d never win and you honestly just wanted her to shut up at this point; so even though the idea of standing in the Kappa Sigma frat house while the plaster walls vibrated and bodies jostled around you almost made you want to throw up, you reluctantly agreed to go with her. You tried to convince yourself it wouldn’t be so bad, that your best friend would be at your side the entire night, but you still couldn’t shake the butterflies in your belly the entire day.

Just as you’d expected, you were pretty sure you were this close to blowing chunks in Kappa Sigma’s bushes.

The lawn was crawling with college students bearing drinks and you were thrown into the middle of them, one hand clasped in Scout’s as she led you up to the porch and the other anxiously fiddling with the hem of your gingham printed shorts. You were hyper aware of everything happening around you: knocking shoulders with a short, blonde girl, the loud shouts over a game of flip cup, the bass of the song playing in your chest, and a putrid, skunk-like smell that caught in your lungs no matter what you did. Already you wanted to leave, but one look at your best friend’s excited face had you willing yourself to suck it up and try to have fun.

Clutching onto Scout’s hand like it was your only lifeline, she guided you through the foyer and an expansive dining room before reaching the kitchen and the pressure in your chest lifted enough to calm your racing heart; it was significantly less crowded, only inhabited by a small group of girls and a guy with his head stuck in the refrigerator. You watched as Scout paid none of them any mind and instead helped herself to two red solo cups, pointing the nozzle to the keg in one and letting it fill with the sepia toned beer before doing the same with the other cup.

You had just opened your mouth to protest, but the look she shot you had the words dying in your throat.

“Just trust me, alright?” She said and you let her shove the full cup into your hand. “It’ll help with your nerves.”

For a brief second your gaze flickered to the group of three girls seated at the kitchen island, all huddled together and speaking in low tones. It made your skin prickle and heat up and you wondered if they were talking about you—how out of place you seemed.

The white brim of your cup slotted between your glossed-up lips and you took a hefty swig. You immediately scrunched your face up in disgust at the bitter, watery taste of the ale but you were willing to down it if it drowned out your impending anxiety for the night.

“Ugh.” You cringed and peered at the frothy beer in distaste. “How do you drink this shit?”

Scout just grinned and raised her beer in the air.

“Cheers bitch,” She hummed and downed a gulp big enough to puff out her cheeks with the liquid. “Now drink up.”

So, you did cautiously while she retrieved her phone from her back pocket; you distantly heard her say the words “text” and “Jude” but you were more focused on the guy leaning against the counter a few steps away. It was the same guy who’d been rummaging in the fridge when you came in and it appeared he’d found what he wanted: a bottle of Michelob Ultra that he held by the neck. His other hand was occupied by his phone, his head tilted downwards as he scrolled with his thumb, but then he tipped it back to sip his drink and your heart plummeted.

You wasted no time grabbing Scout by her bicep to get her attention.

“Don’t look now but super hot frat guy, Tom, is literally right there,” You whispered frantically through gritted teeth and tugged her towards the exit.

Of course, she resisted. The “don’t look now” part of your sentence slipped in one ear and out the other because she turned back to glance at him with the subtlety of a hand grenade. Her small squeal had you yanking her back around, your stomach rolling with enough nerves to make you vomit for real this time.

“I literally just said—”

Just after the words left your mouth, Jude sauntered into the kitchen, loudly exclaiming: “Tom, man, how long does it take to get a drink?” Then, his six-foot-three hulking physique lumbered towards you and Scout—which effectively made Tom’s dark brown irises lock onto you. “And why have you guys not answered my texts? We’re about to start another round of flip cup.”

Recognition flashed in his eyes and you wished you were dead. You knew you should’ve stayed in the safety of your dorm with Meredith Grey and Derek Shepherd. Why didn’t you?

Maybe it was because you were the biggest pushover on campus?

Yeah, that had to be it.

“Sorry, mate.” Tom didn’t glance away from you as he spoke. You noticed a smirk playing at his thin lips before it was covered by the open top of his beer bottle when he took a drag. “I guess I got a little... distracted.”

His little jab at you didn’t go unnoticed.

Yep, he definitely recognized you from earlier in the day when you practically undressed him.

Deep down you knew he was just messing with you, but you couldn’t help feeling humiliated—like you were the center of a joke and not the kind of joke where he was laughing with you; suddenly overcome with a need to escape, you ignored his remark and turned to Scout and Jude instead.

“Hey, I think I’m gonna go to the bathroom or step outside really quick.”

You barely heard her concerned voice asking if you wanted her to come with you before you were high-tailing it out of the room and up the dark wooden stairs in the foyer. You took them two at a time and in your haste to ascend them, the smelly beer in your still-full-to-the-brim cup sloshed over the rim and saturated the front of your black shirt and flowy shorts. Your face contorted in discomfort at the feeling of your wet clothes sticking to your skin as you slowed down, reaching the top floor at a more careful pace. The paranoid feeling that everyone was watching you make a fool of yourself began to set in and just as your breathing started to escalate, you ducked into the first bedroom you saw and quickly shut it with a click.

Absentmindedly, you sat your now half empty beer cup on the dresser by the door and slumped back against the wood. The cold doorknob pressed into the bottom of your spine but you didn’t care because all you could think about was the soaked fabric clinging to your front, Tom’s subtle mocking comment, and the feeling you’d felt coming up the steps.

In the back of your mind you knew how dramatic and blown out of proportion you were acting; your anxiety, however, didn’t get the memo. So there you were, panting and quivering in some random frat guy’s room with tears pooling at your lash line. You were beginning to feel nauseous lurches in your stomach and all you wanted was to go home.

You’d never wanted to be here in the first place.

An uncomfortable warmth bloomed in your chest around your heart—a feeling you were all too familiar with. If you had to guess, you assumed it was the way a heart attack might feel. You were panicking for absolutely no reason at all and all that you knew was that you needed to get out of here.

With shaky hands, you pulled your phone out of your bra and wiped away the sticky residue from the beer before composing a new text to Scout.

Sent at 11:33 PM: i feel sick. i think i’m gonna head back to our dorm

Then, feeling inexplicably guilty for not even trying, you typed again as your tears left splotches on your screen.

Sent at 11:33 PM: i’m really sorry

The click of your phone locking sounded like a blaring horn to your over-sensitized body and you slumped tiredly into a desk chair, shoving your phone somewhere on the desk carelessly. You were still shaking and you didn’t know if you were cold or hot and bile had started to burn your throat and in your hazy mind you swore you heard the doorknob turning but who knows?

“Uh, what the fuck are you doing in my room?”

If you thought you were going to throw up before then you definitely were now.

You grabbed the trash bin beside the desk and hung your head over it, the contents of the day emptying from your anxious stomach.

“Christ,” The guy grumbled in annoyance. Didn’t you know that voice from somewhere? “Of course. A drunk girl chooses my room to throw up in out of all the fuckin’ other rooms in this house.”

Shame crept up your neck and made you feel even hotter than you already were. You felt like such a mess—you reeked of alcohol, your hair was damp from a cold-sweat, and a stranger had just witnessed you puking your guts out. Great.

You couldn’t speak. All you could do was take shaky, staggered breaths and sniffle through your tears but you did manage to see who the mean guy in the room with you was. Just as your luck would have it, the guy whose bedroom you’d taken hostage in was none other than Tom Holland.

Your stomach twisted and again you ducked your head back in the bin to puke some more.

“Look. I’m sorry you feel like shit and drank too much but you’ve gotta get outta here.” You felt his large, strong hand curl around your bare bicep to tug you up out of his chair. “C’mon. Time to go.”

It was at that moment Tom finally noticed three things: that you were the girl from earlier in the LC, then again in the frat’s kitchen, that you were shaking like a leaf against him, and that you were struggling to breathe normally. It was clear to him you weren’t throwing up because you were drunk; you were throwing up because you were having a full-blown panic attack.

In his bedroom.

And he’d been nothing but a dick to you so far.

“Woah, hey, hey,” He murmured softly, his voice taking on a much gentler tone. Delicately, he brushed the sweaty hair from your warm cheeks and allowed one of his palms to meet the small of your back. “It’s okay. You’re alright, darlin’.”

You focused all your attention on the quiet hum of his voice in your right ear and the silver cross necklace rising and falling on his chest with each breath. You tried to sync your breaths with his even, steady ones and although it took awhile, you managed to calm yourself down to a non-hysterical state.

Tom’s fingers, however, never faltered in their dance along your spine. “Good girl,” He hummed soothingly.

Tingles tickled at each of your vertebrae.

Good girl. Was he trying to kill you?

Clearing your throat, you set the trash bin beside the desk where it lived and stood up to move closer to the door and away from Tom. You were pretty sure you’d embarrassed yourself in front of a hot guy enough for one day and didn’t want to do anything rash...like jump his bones for calling you a good girl.

You felt yourself getting hot again.

“I’m sorry.” You fiddled with the damp hem of your shirt, unable to meet his gaze. “I just...needed some air and then I spilt beer all over myself and—yeah.”

“Hey, it’s alright.” He shrugged like a girl having a panic attack in his room was normal, then gestured to your ruined outfit. “I’ve got some stuff you can borrow if you want.”

“Oh! No, it’s okay, really—”

“C’mon. That can’t be comfortable,” He said with a raised brow. He was already rummaging through his dresser drawers before you could protest anymore. “Let me help you out, alright? I’ve already been the biggest dick to you tonight.”

You couldn’t argue with that, so you took the clean clothes from his outstretched hand and sent him an awkward smile.

“Thanks. I’ll, um, get these back to you. Sometime.”

He grinned at how awkward and fumbly you were. It was cute. He liked that he was the cause of it.

“Sounds like a pretty good plan to me,” He agreed cheekily, unable to hide the smile on his lips. “Gives me an excuse to see you again, huh, darlin’?”

Oh.

This boy was definitely trying to make you explode and you were two seconds away from doing so, sweat pooling even quicker in areas you didn’t even want to fathom.

Thankfully, before you had the chance to embarrass yourself any further, Tom turned his back on you, chuckling lowly under his breath and urged you to get changed.

As you toed out of your high-tops and peeled your sticky, black shirt from your torso, your attention wavered just as you reached for his heather grey t-shirt. You distractedly grasped the soft material to put it on, but you were too entranced by Tom’s back muscles through his own shirt to follow through.

The fabric was stretched taut over the expanse of his broad shoulders and every little movement allowed you to see the rippling muscle that was underneath it. Your fingers itched to slip under his shirt and feel his toned back for yourself, to lightly dig your n—

“Jude said your friend is waitin’ for you on the porch.” His English twang had you throwing the clean clothes on hastily before he turned back around. “I’ll walk you down.”

All you wanted was to get out of this frat house and into your shower as quickly as possible so you agreed even though you felt like your insides were on fire.

You gathered your dirty clothes and hooked your fingertips into the canvas backs of your shoes before you were ushered out into the corridor. The party seemed to have thinned out a considerable amount with only the occasional person loitering about on the second floor; the thought of someone seeing you with Tom’s baggy clothes on made your cheeks flush and you tilted your head down towards the floor, avoiding anyone’s curious eye. To your anxious mind, it felt like everyone was watching you and Tom descend the grand stairs in the fraternity’s house so you held your gaze with the dark hardwood floor the entire trek to the porch.

His warm palm met the small of your back for the second time that night and you cautiously glanced up into his dark brown irises. You were surprised to see the incredibly soft edge they had taken on and even more surprised by the way your spine instinctively arched against his hand.

A guy had never touched you like this before—it felt intimate and tender and you were a stranger to it.

“Hey.” He had to stoop down towards your ear so you could hear him over the still-blaring music. His breath tickled your neck and his bottom lip brushed the tip of your ear. You couldn’t stop from shivering. “Are you alright?”

No, you weren’t. He was really, really close and your heart was beating dangerously fast again.

“Yeah,” You breathed in reassurance, pushing what you hoped was a convincing smile. “I’m okay. Just tired.”

He didn’t look completely convinced. However, he didn’t push the subject further and you were grateful.

“Alright.” He nodded and it was silent for a split second until you both reached the front door. “You look beautiful in my clothes by the way.”

And then Tom was pushing open the door and there on the porch like he said was a worried Scout. Thankfully, she was way too preoccupied with hurtling questions of “are you okay?” and “what happened?” for her to notice the way your skin was flushed and how you couldn’t quite look anyone in the eye.

The weight of the fingers splayed along the base of your spine disappeared as Scout swept you away from Tom and into her crushing embrace.

“Oh my God!” She shrieked as she hugged you to her, your bundle of clothes and shoes between you digging into your stomach. “You scared the hell out of me. Did you fall in the toilet or something?”

For the first time in what felt like forever, a small snort of a laugh left your throat.

“I’m fine,” You reassured and tangled your digits with hers, tugging her down the porch stairs with you. “And no, I didn’t ‘fall in the toilet.’ I just want to go home and drown myself in the shower.”

“Good. You smell like shit.” Her nose wrinkled. “And please enlighten me on how you ended up in Tom fucking Holland’s bedroom.”

You laughed again and spared a glance over your shoulder.

Tom still stood on the porch, readjusting his backwards hat over his brunette curls. You caught the little smirk on his lips and you swore he winked before Scout was tugging you further up the sidewalk and you were forced to turn back around.

Every inch of your body tingled.

It wasn’t until you stood under the shower head’s chilly spray of water back in your residence hall that you realized you’d left your phone in Tom’s room.

TOM TAGLIST:

@xoxohollands​ ♡ @outshineallthestars​ ♡ @pcterparxer​ ♡ @worldoftom​ ♡ 

RETROGRADE ONLY TAGLIST:

@softholand​ ♡ @sushiinmidnight​ ♡ @stuckonspidey​ ♡ 

[luvbotclub]

stay — part one: mark lee.

it’s not me, it’s you— you had a change of heart. what kind of change of heart was that and why didn’t feel it? or in which mark doubts himself as an idol, a boyfriend, and a person.

content warning for angst, i’m sorry markzens. 4,867 words.

this can be read as x reader or x oc since i didn’t give mark’s girlfriend a name (this applies to the other parts as well). the other parts may be a little delayed since i’m working on some other fics as well, but i’ll try my best to finish this series! i hope you will enjoy reading this one :D

the sun was shining outside his window. the sunlight seeped through his silk curtains, and for some reason, mark lee didn't feel like sliding them aside and welcoming the april warmth with open arms today, or any other day to be honest. he didn't bother getting up and cooking himself some delicious breakfast, nor did he get up and at least fix his appearance a little bit. he was so disheartened to do anything ever since she left.

but mark has been feeling less like... well, mark nowadays, so there was no question as to why he was acting the way he is. but who could blame him? almost five months has passed and he has made close to no progress with moving on from her. her departure and the demise of them has impacted mark in the worst ways there is to exist.

mark has managed to go out with taeyong and jaehyun for some coffee two days prior to this unfortunate saturday morning without somehow making everyone around him feel burdened by his troubled presence.

mark hated that feeling the most ㅡ the feeling that he’s slowly becoming a burden to the people around him. and perhaps he is, indeed, starting to become a burden to the people around him.

he's tried. he's tried so hard. but it hurts, so so much. the feeling of her warm embrace and the sound of her laugh and the way she smiles are all fucking imprinted in his mind. there was no escape from her torturous murder. the poison she uses is cutting into his skin… slowly, leaving a trail of rotten memories behind.

maybe if she hadn't left him so harshly, mark would've dealt with her farewell a lot better than he is doing right now. maybe, just maybe, if she hadn't been so cruel enough to just tell him straight in the face that it's not me, it's you, you had a change of heart; mark would've forgiven himself faster. his chest would have been filled with something other than guilt and confusion to what he's done wrong, why did she leave, who made her leave, what kind of fucking change of heart was that and why in fuck's name didn't he feel it.

mark has tried to spend more time with her. he really did try, but success came for his group faster than nct and sm entertainment had expected, and he trained longer in the practice room for six days per week for their tour and comeback to make a bigger impact than before. but, in the end, when he's back in their shared apartment, it feels like everything he did wasn't enough. the awards he won, the effort he put into dancing, each lyric he sings out every blurred, sweaty night just for millions to hear. they weren't enough to make her smile reach her eyes. they weren't enough to make her satisfied with him.

they weren't enough for her to stay.

sometimes, mark would think. maybe he's really the one to the blame. maybe he should have just taken more breaks and spent more time with her ― cook lunch with her, cuddle with her on the couch, give her massages while she ranted and ranted about the rude customers at her workplace, the marais. maybe, instead of sweating and singing his heart out, he could have stayed home. maybe he should have been a better boyfriend. maybe he wasn't good enough.

for the past few days, mark's mind has been filled with maybe's and what if's and i'm never going to be good enough's. it was strange. he felt all this remorse ― he even blamed himself because he was doing what he had been wanting to do for a long time ― and all this confusion because of a girl who has sent his friends snapchats of her playing just dance with her workmates a day after she said goodbye, because of a girl who left him on a living room floor with a heart that fell into pieces and the echoes of his pleas for her to please stay with me in each corner of the room ㅡ haunting him, crawling to his skin like the remnants of a bad dream.

it was selfish for mark to think, nor to say aloud, but a despicable part of him wished she felt somewhat guilty for leaving him behind in the dust like this ㅡ or even be concerned about his well being. but no. she left in the first place without a care ㅡ why would she care about whatever’s happening in mark’s mind, now that she has a great life without an idol boyfriend who's always dragging her down?

but today. today. it felt like the day to start living his life again, to live like mark lee who could make people smile just by the sound of his laugh alone. he's disappeared for exactly two weeks from television appearances, family dinners, and friendly get-togethers ㅡ even company parties, he couldn't attend. he was in the stage of denial in the first week, like he was mourning over a death of a loved one. fans have left comments, questions as to why he disappeared all of a sudden all over nct’s twitter and instagram pages and they’ve started to worry whether mark was doing okay or not. his family grew concerned for his well-being, so did his fellow members. they sent him food with stupid little hearts taped to the lunchbox (taeil once sent him naengmyun, along with a paper heart with a classy dad joke and his well wishes scribbled on it). they sent him encouraging messages almost everyday ― the fans, his family, his fellow members. they're all there for him, because they knew that mark isn't okay.

mark decided to get up from his bed an hour after he finished the piece of toast and cup of coffee he both made in a haste. he didn’t even bother putting anything along with the toast, and it was burnt. everyday, his breakfast gets worse. but he needed to put something in his stomach ― he's not going to be in this state forever and he still needed to take care of himself.

mark's grip on the plate was tight, knuckles white as he rested the ceramic plate on the sink. he turned his head after washing his hands and saw the shoe and coat rack by the front door. it was strange to see her newly bought pair of nikes and her ivory coat gone from the racks ― they were her least favoured articles of clothing. maybe she could have left them with him, so he could have something that reminds him of her presence.

but, no. that's way too cruel, isn't it? she did mark a favour of not leaving a single trace of her behind, even as little as a speck of dust from her belongings or a smear of her red lipstick on his favourite white mug. she knew she was practically death itself to him ― her name a lethal spoken curse, her scent a guilty pleasure, her voice a melody so deadly. to love her will be a death wish, but he feels and loves her without a single trace of fear that it'd harm him one day. he loves her. every inch, every night spent watching stupid random shows in the tv, every kiss, every parent joke they've cracked together. he misses them. he misses her. and sometimes he didn't even care if it were his fault or hers ― because either way, she'll still leave an empty shell in his chest, a shell that longed to be filled with her love again.

mark lee never thought it was possible for his heart to ache for someone so much.

he closed his eyes and breathed out a heavy sigh, wanting nothing more than to scream out his frustrations and drink some good fucking coffee right now. but the coffee maker was broken, and mark didn't feel like going out to town and buying a new one. it might sound like it was a stupid reason and he knew perfectly well of the fact, but he doesn't want everyone to see him like this... whatever he is right now.

is he even human at this point? he feels like someone ripped half of his body and soul and he just feels the opposite of the caring mark everybody adored. he feels like he doesn't even have a heart beating right now as his eyes are closed to the darkness — just an empty chest and an empty head.

mark wants to be somewhere else other than this damn apartment. it was way too depressing and he finally got sick of being burdened by it all — it was way too exhausting to be so burdened all the time, to have your head weighed down by thoughts of what could have happened. maybe he can go to a clear field with a nice, baby blue sky, or the coffee house in town where soft jazz played. he didn’t even like jazz. maybe anywhere, just to get away from this place. even the recording studio sounded inviting right now.

the roar of mark's ringtone ripped through the silent room, and it took him a few seconds to recover from the small jumpscare he got before he grabbed his phone that was in his sweatshirt pocket. mental note: put your phone in silent mode next time.

it was a text from jeno.

[jeno]: hi hyung. you up for coffee later with jaemin later? XD

mark suppressed the urge to roll his eyes at the emoticon. jeno could be really ridiculous (and cringy) sometimes, yet he couldn’t ignore the letters that were practically glowing at his eyes, screaming for his reply to be fuck yes i am up for this, but as mark was somewhat in mid reply (and it was an awfully nonchalant yeah, sure with no stupid emoji to support his message), his fingers stopped typing.

would it be worth it, though? he doesn't even have the mental energy to go out and buy his own food, let alone go out for coffee (even though he's succeeded once...). a small part of him felt bad for jeno. all the boy wanted was to drink coffee with his members, but mark's fucking sadness is stopping him. it's not even jeno's fault mark turned out like this these past few weeks.

after a few seconds of contemplating, mark continued typing his message, feeling a little afraid of making jeno think he was uninterested.

[me]: yeah, sure. 😃 can you pick me up?

he tapped the send button, instantly regretting that he added the smiling emoji at the end (because now he sounds so enthusiastic to go, even if a part of him really did) and the fact that he just asked his friend to do him yet another favour. mark felt bad for jeno, he really did, but he didn't even know where the coffee shop was, and, knowing mark, he gets lost sometimes because the boy had no sense of direction whatsoever. jeno's response came a few seconds after, which amazed mark for a bit since jeno was never the fastest replier.

[jeno]: geez, hyung 😒

[jeno]: i'll be there around 1, jaem had to run some errands so he’ll be a lil late. see you later!!!

feeling relieved jeno didn't pry any more into the subject, mark locked his phone and put in his sweatshirt pocket. he felt more fresh, somehow, he felt like his steps won't be heavy and that his life will actually improve today. like an imaginary weight has been lifted off of his shoulders. maybe he should treat jeno and jaemin with lunch one day, if the day went well.

after a few hours of sitting in the sofa and listening to a bunch of songs taeyong has sent him over the past few days, mark went to take a nice, warm shower and changed into his “outside” clothes (...which were the same as his stay-in clothes) and waited for jeno and jaemin outside his locked home, foot tapping on the pavement out of habit.

as promised through his text, jeno arrived at mark's place at the same time when the clock in mark's phone read 1:00 pm. mark felt like grabbing jeno and giving him the biggest hug he's ever given to another member once he jumped off of the black van he arrived in ㅡ the boy's done so much for him ㅡ sending lunchboxes, agreeing to meet up with him in 3am nights where mark couldn't sleep at all, and, now, agreeing to pick mark up right on time even if he probably had million of things going through his mind right now, with nct dream's comeback slowly approaching them.

“hey, hyung,” greeted jeno, brown hair swept to the side messily. after a very long time, there was a genuine smile on mark's lips ㅡ he was happy to see a familiar face in the midst of this chaos. “you ready to go?”

mark gave the younger man a nod, and pocketed his phone in his pants.

a few minutes of catching up led them to full time story-telling, which is totally typical of the parent-like pair of friends. mark was smiling the whole time, because, again, he was with a familiar face and he hadn't been able to speak his mind to another person for a few days, constantly insecure of what others would think of him and his thoughts.

they were overcome with surprise when the driver pulled up on the pavement since they were too caught up in their conversation to pay attention to their surroundings, signalling that they've arrived in the said café. it seemed like the other cafés he's visited before. it had treats and specials lined up by the baby blue tinted window, ranging from strawberry cream puffs to the manager's favourite mushroom pizza. mark looked at the café’s exterior in astonishment and glanced back at jeno. jeno had good taste.

mark looked at the café one more time. he still had a few moments before they went inside; jeno was taking too damn well to adjust his facemask. it was perfect ㅡ black tables at the patio with white chairs as a contrast, fancy little plants lined up just by the café's entrance.

it was all fun until his eyes darted over to the shop's logo, etched in a fancy script font and a mighty golden colour. the light in mark's eyes faltered and the smile plastered on his face dropped in desultory, as the letters made his throat go dry.

the marais.

singing is a stupid thing now. he doesn't feel like singing a bunch of twisted words just for millions to hear. no. he doesn't feel like doing anything. getting scolded at for not singing a note properly is getting tiresome. constantly redoing certain parts because the producer didn’t like it is getting tiresome. thinking of her at any given opportunity is getting tiresome. doing this, whatever it is... it's tiresome.

“i hope you’re happy today,” came the soft muse of donghyuck through his headset. it was strange that mark felt something strong snap in his chest just because of these words. they were going through the songs in the album and mark didn’t know why he was even required to be here for that — he wasn’t even in make your day.

when he heard his dongsaeng’s verse, he felt like crying again. he’s gotten so bad — this was just all so fucking tiring. all he can think about is the way she looked that day in the café, stunned to see the two tall idols in her sight and soon seeing jaemin rush into the shop without much care if he was causing a ruckus or not. she didn’t think that she would see him ever again, thinking that she’s ran away from all of that, the exhausting world of mark lee and being constantly shoved to the side.

“i'm ― i'm sorry," his voice is weak. the words were strained coming out of his throat. he couldn't breathe, but he had to do this. “i can’t do this. not today, no.”

am i really doing this?

mark's heart skipped a beat. yes.

he removed his headset quickly, the song cutting off just as jaehyun’s part began. mark grabbed his cap and mask from the table and put them on. he felt no feeling of hesitation or remorse from his actions as he stared at the producer and members, all staring back at him and obviously stunned. mark shook his head and turned his back on them, ignoring donghyuck’s tired and annoyed stare burning at the back of his head. he really tried to be okay for one day, but he can't do that. the closure she gave wasn't enough — well, was there ever any closure in the first place? he had to give his own closure, or else he'll explode from all these feelings burning his insides with guilt that he didn't even have to feel in the first place if he just became a better boyfriend, a better person.

“mark, come back here,” taeyong’s tired drawl came, echoing through the halls. mark stopped walking but didn’t face his hyung. “you’re really going to skip a recording just for a girl who doesn’t even want to see you anymore?”

taeyong’s words stung, but mark swallowed and gave a firm, “yes.”

as he walked down the hallways and ignoring the incredulous burning stares of the crew, wondering why the hell he was out in the hall instead of being in the recording studio like his schedule declared so, mark thought of all the things he'll say. they need to make sense or else skipping a recording session will all be for nothing and the scolding from taeyong would make him feel even guiltier for the rest of his entire life. i love you, you heartless prick. no. that's way too blunt. i love you, and i don’t need you to say the same thing. i just want you to say goodbye one last time.

that’s all mark ever wanted.

that’s all mark ever needed.

he called a taxi and immediately got in, telling the driver his destination which was the marais. a frown was evident on the young idol's face as his phone vibrated text message after text message, all either from taeyong or taeil telling him he has the next two hours to get his ass back to the studio or else they were telling the ceo about it. it was tiring. he was debating whether to ignore them or reason it out like the adult he was, because he was feeling annoyed at their lack of understanding and at the same time he just wanted to be mature with them.

both of mark’s options sounded too far out of his reach when the taxi driver suddenly stopped his car and told him they were already at his destination, and he was forced to lock his phone instead, ignoring the constant vibration of the device.

he started shaking as he gave the driver money, and his hands became sweaty when he exited out of the car and slammed the door shut. mark walked over to the café with a heavy heart, his legs wanting nothing more than to retreat to the studio and spare his ego the embarrassment, but he was here now. there was no point in turning back. he’d embarrass himself anyways if he came back to the studio, he could practically hear donghyuck cheekily saying “i told you so” and the small knowing smirk on the younger’s face. mark shuddered at the thought.

as he went through the door of the shop, he instantly got a whiff of the strong coffee they were brewing — their bestseller and the same coffee she used to bring home for mark to drink. the boy only swallowed the fear in his throat and shook the memories off.

he walked up to the counter, legs still shaky as the employee working the cashier looked at him with a bright smile, “um, hi. i’m looking for someone who works here? is—”

“mark?”

mark looked up at the sudden voice, his words cut off halfway. if his heart was already beating fast even before he'd seen her, mark was pretty sure it’d jump right out of his chest as he made eye contact with the woman who got him into this predicament in the first place. he exhaled heavily and bowed his head to the employee behind the cashier, apologizing for the interruption before walking over to her who was standing just by the kitchen door and dressed in the white coat she hated so much. the sight made mark want to go home for some reason.

“what are you doing here?” she laughed nervously as he came closer. “aren’t you busy? i heard you guys are having a comeback?”

mark shook his head, ignoring the urge inside of him to tell her i skipped a recording for you. he knew it wouldn't matter to her anyways. “i’m not busy at all. i just want to talk to you about something. is that okay?”

she nodded yet the look in her eyes clearly said she really didn’t want anything to do with him at all. “sure, do you want to step out for a bit?”

mark only noticed the stares of the customers at the pair of them when she glanced around the room, and he immediately nodded. the last thing he needed was for someone to recognize him and spread rumours (even though he knew that was practically unavoidable at this point—people were already starting to point). she took hold of his hand and led him out of the coffee shop, ignoring the incredulous whispers of everyone.

once they were outside, mark was the first to pull his hand away from her grasp in such a haste. he almost apologized when he saw the brief shock emerge in her face at the brash action, but at this point, he didn’t have time for games anymore — figuratively and quite literally, since he only had an hour left before taeyong and taeil will call the ceo on him.

“so what is it that you want to talk about?”

“i wanted to talk about us,” mark exhaled, finally feeling a weight being lifted off of his shoulders. he saw her face contort a little, obviously displeased at the topic. “i just — you gave your closure. but i didn’t.”

“mark, it’s been months,” she laughed, the sound coming out as breathless. “you still haven’t moved on?”

“how could i do that?” mark started laughing too, albeit humorlessly. he ignored the pang in his chest as he realized that she found the entire situation funny. “everything i see, everyone i talk to. everything reminds me of you. i can’t even do anything right, i can’t even live normally anymore, because i keep thinking, why? why did she break up with me? was i a bad boyfriend?”

“mark— no,” the smile on her face dropped. “you weren’t a bad boyfriend. i just—”

“then why did you tell me i had a change of heart?!” mark was enraged. he didn’t want to be angry. he didn’t mean to raise his voice like that. he didn’t mean to let his tears cascade down his cheeks. he probably looked so pathetic right now, practically seething at the image of himself, tears falling and eyes pleading for an answer, for anything. “i didn’t. i didn’t have a change of heart. if i did then i would have been the one who ended things. if i was such a good boyfriend, then why did you leave me? right when i needed you most?”

mark didn’t even let her open her mouth before he spoke up again, the pain in his voice raw. “i tried so hard. i’ve always tried so hard but you made me feel like i didn’t. i’ve always protected you from everything and everyone. i’ve always defended you. you made me feel like everything i’ve ever done, for myself, for you ­— they weren’t enough for you. i always thought that maybe i wasn’t good enough to make you stay. i guess i was right, wasn’t i?”

“i was scared,” she answered calmly. “i fell out of love with you and i didn’t want to admit that. it was my fault. all of it. i only said that so i wouldn’t feel terrible about leaving you but i didn’t realize it was too harsh of me to say that right away. i’m sorry, mark, for everything. please stop blaming yourself.”

mark only nodded, wiping at the tears that were on his cheeks and blinking away the ones that threatened to fall. he got what he wanted. he got the truth. he gave his closure. so why did it still hurt? why did it still pain him to see her, looking at him like he was the saddest, most pathetic person to ever exist? the pitiful stare she was giving him made mark feel so sick in the stomach that he had to look away so that the feeling won’t resurface.

“just know,” mark breathed out shakily, fingers trembling and aching to brush the stray hair that fell on her face aside. he bit the inside of his cheek to stop the urge until he tasted blood. “i still love you and i don’t think that will ever change. even if you hurt me. even if you broke my heart so bad to the point that i didn’t know if i’ll be fine by the end of it all. you became a part of my life no matter how bad it got in the end.”

“i love you too, mark,” she smiled warmly and mark knew she was lying straight to his face right now. but he didn’t care. it felt good, strange almost, to hear those words tumble out of her lips again. “i don’t want to leave you like this but i have to go now. i made some plans with a friend. maybe we can hang out together soon? i can call you?”

“it’s okay,” mark shook his head. “i’ll be busy anyways. enjoy your day. thank you for everything.”

he was pretty sure his friends had already deleted her number from his contacts (it was either johnny or donghyuck who did it). after this, he was going to back to the studio and suffer the consequences of his actions, he’d have to put up with the hyung line staring at him with disappointed glints in their eyes during the entirety of the car ride back home and donghyuck bombarding him with questions about what happened once the younger boy has cornered him somewhere in the dorm. but he wasn’t bothered or even annoyed that he’d be experiencing these things soon.

mark was about to turn away and find a taxi when a tall man approached them, his long arms soon snaking around her shoulder and pulling her into an embrace. mark was quite surprised but shook his head — he was going to stop caring about her from now on. whatever business this man had to do with her, he didn’t care.

“who’s this, babe?” the nickname caught mark off guard.

“hyunwoo,” she mumbled under her breath, obviously uncomfortable at the current situation. “this is mark. remember? i told you about him.”

“oh, the idol?” ‘hyunwoo’ turned his head to mark and the shorter boy nodded. “nice to meet you! i heard you’re quite acquainted with my girlfriend here. she told me a lot about you.”

“oh, girlfriend?” mark was surprised at the cool tone of his question. “well, yeah. i used to be quite close with her.”

“we’re not dating or anything,” she tried to laugh off, but the nervous glint in her eyes screamed otherwise. “i’m just friends with hyunwoo. it’s like what it looks like, mark—”

“it’s okay,” mark smiled warmly, looking at her then back at hyunwoo. “i don’t care who you date. it’s not like you owe me an explanation of any sort.”

“i—yeah, of course,” she mumbled to herself, looking down at the ground before looking back up at mark. “it was nice talking to you. we’ll get going now. keep in touch, okay?”

mark nodded and the warm smile on his face didn’t falter even for a second. after the two had walked away, mark stayed in the same spot. he didn’t miss the way the two shared a short kiss before hyunwoo opened the car door for her and helped her inside before hopping in the driver’s seat and driving away. once they were gone, mark’s phone began ringing, calls from taeyong flooding his missed calls.

mark only smiled to himself, pressing the call button on taeyong’s number while his eyes were still fixated on the spot where hyunwoo’s car was previously parked.

i’ll forget about you, someday.

[iwhumpyou]

Interrogation (Part 1)

Masterlist.  Mole.

~#~#~#~#~#~

It happened so fast it took her completely by surprise.

One moment, she was tickling her friend, laughing through his shrieks and desperate pleas – he deserved it, the rotten traitor, he finished off her entire chocolate stash – and the next, her door blew inward to reveal a field agent on the other side. Becca registered the rage on his face in the primal part of her brain that always recognized a predator and she gave into the instinctual urge to flee by rolling off her friend, and therefore the couch.

The bullet created a neat hole in the wall instead of her head.

Adam startled up at the gunshot, putting himself in the line of fire and she winced even as she tried to crawl away – abruptly stopped by a booted foot in front of her.  She didn’t have time to follow the foot to its source before it kicked her, snapping her head back.  The next kick nearly collapsed her trachea and she looked up frantically, gasping for breath, only to go cold at the murderous expression on Leia’s face.

Field agents were dangerous. Becca knew that.  She knew that they could kill her a thousand different ways with a spare bit of twine and she knew that they could break every bone in her body with nothing but their bare hands.  She had once found that power charming.  Now, on the receiving end, she felt nothing but terror.

She tried to push back but Leia’s foot followed her, kicking her in the solar plexus and instantly knocking every molecule of air out of her body.  She curled up instinctively but it was getting impossible to breathe and her half-inhale stuttered straight into a forceful exhale as another brutal kick slammed into her ribs.  She wheezed, barely feeling Leia bend down beside her.

“Traitor,” Leia hissed in a voice that was pure venom and kicked Becca over, onto her stomach, yanking her arms up in a hold that nearly dislocated her shoulders even as she drove a knee into her spine.  Her other arm grasped Becca’s neck tightly, her fingers pressing against her windpipe and her thumb braced at the bottom of her skull.  The click of a gun safety made her freeze, her entire body tense under Leia’s.

Becca had never felt so breakable. 

~#~

“What is going on?” Adam asked, keeping his body perfectly still. Damien was next to him, gun pointed at Leia.  No, at Becca, who was underneath Leia in a position that, a few minutes ago, Adam would’ve teased her mercilessly about.

Now?  Now he was scared.

“Are you okay?” Damien asked, turning towards him, and Adam’s breath caught at the fear and rage in his eyes.

“I will be when someone tells me what’s going on,” Adam said, refusing to let any inkling of panic enter his annoyed tone.  He heard Becca’s harsh, fast breaths and saw the single-minded determination in Leia’s eyes.  Something was terribly wrong.

“Treason,” Leia spat, her tone venomous, “This bitch is a traitor.”  Adam saw her hand dig deeper, heard Becca’s breaths turn to choked gasps.  “Did you really think you could fool us with a pretty face?” Leia crooned.

A part of his mind – the part that watched too many cop dramas – came back with ‘I’m pretty sure it worked, sweetheart’ with smugness dripping from the words and Becca’s satisfied smirk.  The girl in question, however, just choked into the carpet, perfectly, deathly still.

The other, and larger, part of his mind was no less confused.  Becca?  His right-hand-in-training?  A traitor?

“What?” he said, sitting down on the couch and gripping the armrest.  He needed to hold something.  He…he trusted Becca.  “It can’t be.”  The traitorous part of his brain pointed out that that was probably her goal.  Get as close as she could to steal their files and plans.  Gods, he’d showed her his prototypes.  He’d shown her the code black files.

“No,” he said, louder. Damien curled a hand on his shoulder. Becca couldn’t be a traitor because if she was, Adam was going to curl up in a little ball and never come out. He couldn’t be that bad a judge of character.  “No.”

“She’s a traitor,” Damien repeated, his face twisted and his words snarled, “A dirty, rotten piece of –”

“She is not a traitor,” Adam said more confidently, “I won’t believe it until you show me proof.  Let her go, Agent Consort.”

Leia twisted towards him, her eyes narrowed, before flicking up to Damien with a patently disbelieving look. The position put Becca’s arms under greater stress and Adam heard a sharper gasp.

“That is an order,” he hissed.  Adam saw Damien nod out of the corner of his eye and Leia uncurled, pushing Becca into the carpet even as she got up.  Damien did not move his gun but he tightened his grip on Adam’s shoulder in warning when he moved to get up. 

Adam pressed his mouth into a thin line but didn’t order Damien to let him go.  Somehow, he didn’t think that Agent Tamer would listen. Instead, he watched as Becca slowly pushed off the carpet, still coughing, and turned to face the three of them, one hand pressed tight against her ribs. 

Adam felt his heart clench at the look of fear, panic, and confusion on her face.  Her eyes darted from Leia (confused disbelief) to the gun (terror) to Adam (pleading).  She looked terrified and afraid and alone.  She looked innocent. 

But Adam knew as well as anyone that spies had to be good actors.

“Proof?” Adam asked, his gaze fixed on Becca.  Please, please, let it not be true, he mentally chanted.  He knew what happened to traitors and for that to happen to Becca, the girl who startled at darkness and laughed at tasteless jokes, whose sarcasm had sent many a field agent fleeing…

Adam didn’t think he could take it.

“Here,” Damien passed him a phone.  There was a video open and Adam pressed the play button with shaking fingers.  It was low-light – clearly outside basic office hours – but Adam didn’t need the light to recognize those outlines.  This was his office.

Becca opened the door with a soundless hiss and walked inside.  Confident and assured, like she had every right to be there.  Adam remembered an office party, a long time ago, when Becca had argued adamantly that acting confident was the best way to sneak into places you weren’t supposed to go. 

He felt sick.

The timestamp showed today, early morning, when Adam had gone home for the first time in a week. It was Becca who had encouraged him to do that.  Becca, who had promised she’d come over for a gaming marathon.  Becca, Becca, Becca. 

She sat down in his chair like she belonged in it and plugged a USB into the side of his computer, booting it up with an elegant sweep across the keyboard.  She entered his password almost idly.

The camera was at the wrong angle to see what she was downloading on the disk – Adam had issues with authority, there was no disputing that – and Becca got up five soundless minutes later, USB in hand. She was out of the office with no one the wiser, long before anyone got back in.

Adam closed his eyes and breathed in deeply.

He rewound back to her, sitting in his chair with one finger idly tapping the USB and paused the video. He turned the phone around, showing a clearly bewildered Becca the evidence of her breaking into his office.

Becca blinked once. She blinked again, her eyebrows furrowing.  She snapped her gaze up to Adam, her eyes wide, “That isn’t me!  I wasn’t in the office at three in the morning!”

“Liar,” Leia hissed, venomous enough to make Becca flinch back.  “The files you took from Adam’s computer were enough to break the cover of Agent Goliath.  He’s dead.” 

Adam flinched at the grief in her tone.  He hadn’t been notified, but he supposed that Leia and Damien had come here the moment they’d found out.  David had been a good man and a good agent.  The very thought that Becca was behind it…no, it was too much to contemplate.

And yet contemplate it he must.

“I didn’t,” Becca said in a very small voice, looking towards him, but her attention clearly focused on Leia because she flinched back when Leia snarled.  “It wasn’t me.”

Adam groaned and fought the urge to bury his head in his hands.  “Then what?” he asked to his hands and the still of Becca at his desk, “Were you doing in my office at three in the morning?”

“I wasn’t there,” she said, “Please, Adam, you have to believe me, I wasn’t there, I didn’t do –”  She abruptly cut off and Adam looked up to see that Leia had advanced forward three steps, her gun out and her expression so murderous it would’ve set a block of ice on fire.

“I think we should relocate back to base,” Damien said, an undertone of anger in his normally unflappable tone, “The interrogation can be conducted more easily there.”

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” Leia knelt down to Becca and smiled.  It was not a pretty sight.  “I already called dibs.”

“Adam,” Becca said in a high-pitched tone, her gaze not moving from Leia, “Adam, please.”

“I designed the software for these cameras,” he said softly, each word a hammer to his heart, “They can’t be hacked.”

~#~

Part 2.

[sighingstarbeam]

Spies and Gods - Chapter 10

Summary: You and Loki head out on a night on the town. But you need to make a pit stop along the way.

Word Count: 3,245

A/N:  It's finally here! I'm finished with my classes and I have some time to write. With everything going on in the world right now, I'll try my best to upload more chapters, hopefully I can pry one out every week and get a schedule up and going. Thanks for the patience and stay safe!

Chapter 9 | Chapter 11

The next hour you debated if your decision was right. Your mind kept weighing the polar opposite options yet you put on your makeup as if you already made your choice. Every time you thought about going back to Loki’s room and calling the deal off you lingered to how you deserved a night out with your friends, even if Loki was in the background. On the other hand, when you thought about how much you wanted to leave the facility, what would happen if you got caught? New York was big, yes, and you never told anyone which nightclub you were going to specifically as there were hundreds just in the city alone, but if someone saw you leave and grew suspicious who’s to say what would happen? So many scenarios scattered in your brain. That person would rat you out to the team, they’d shun you for the rest of your life, Tony would kick you out immediately, he would second guess why he let you stay in the first place, which was something you never quite fully understood. If worse came to worse, you could always move back in with Lilly and Maya. But what if they thought you abandoned them? You didn’t mean to. In fact, you were forced to leave your current living situation. They wouldn’t lea- Before your headache could grow any larger, you heard a knock on your bathroom door. Your breath hitched when a familiar voice spoke up, “It’s me,” Tony said, “I’m sorry about before, but we really need you to do this. We’ll celebrate with a restaurant, your choice, just us two to get to know each other. Maybe Pepper. No, not Pepper.” You could practically hear his head rushing with what he was trying to spit out as he hesitated, “What I’m trying to say is we’re heading out. Don’t let Loki… Honestly don’t let him do anything but breathe and blink. Steve and his squad should be back tomorrow from their mission. Hang tight until then.” You didn’t say anything, you were processing the fact that Tony actually said the words “I’m sorry” to you. On top of that he wanted to take you out to dinner and have a real conversation. Not just the chats you have in the lab about his works, but about both of your lives, something you have secretly been yearning since day one. “O-Okay.” You stammered, careful not to burn yourself on the curling rod, “See you later.” Great, now you’ll feel some guilt for sneaking out. To be fair, it was Tony’s own fault for not letting you live your life. About an hour later you were dolled up in makeup and a form fitting maroon dress with off shoulder sleeves that Maya helped you pick out a few months back. It was already 8:00 and you promised you’d arrive at that time. You quickly texted Maya and Lilly that you were heading out and you had to “pick up a friend”. Speaking of which, you needed to tell Loki you were ready. Peeking your head out of your door, purse in hand, you checked the hall if anyone was around. Your heels clacked on the linoleum tile as you crossed the few feet to Loki’s door. You knocked sharply, waiting for him to emerge. A part of you wanted him to not answer, for him to end his own deal so you could have a reason to stay home. Or you could leave him alone and go by yourself and deal with the repercussions later. Well, somebody was listening and decided to pull a joke on you as Loki opened the door. You would’ve noticed him looking at you surprised by how you were dressed if it weren’t for the fact that you were too distracted by his attire. He went with his usual Asgardian wear of green, gold, and black leather outfitted with actual gold bands. “What are you wearing?” You asked. “What do you mean?” Loki questioned. “We’re going to a party in a club, not a renaissance fair.” Loki was taken aback from your comment, “I am dressed for a party. In Asgard this was standard attire for events our family held.” You rubbed the bridge of your nose out of frustration, “You’re on Earth now. You got to own something like a suit.” In almost an instant a shimmer of gold surrounded his head as a helmet with long horns manifested on Loki’s head, “How is this?” He mused. You crossed your arms, “If you can do that, you can illusion yourself human clothes.” Loki stared you down, then sighed rolling his eyes, knowing he wouldn’t win this situation. The golden shimmer surrounded him as he changed into the black suit he wore on the first day you saw him. “This should suffice, but know this; ” He leaned in, a little too close for comfort, before hissing his next words, “this night will not grant you permission to treat me like a cornered dog. Just because this is your planet does not give you access to order me whenever you please. I am a god in this realm- and for a moment your divine ruler.” You resisted the urge to step back from his proximity, for doing so would only pin you against the wall. Instead you stood your ground, trying to match the intensity of Loki’s glare. “If you say so. But if you do anything that raises any red flags while we’re out, I won’t hesitate to drag your ass back here early.” You pulled your phone out, it was a few minutes after you were supposed to meet up, plus you needed to pick up a gift. “We gotta go. Does the divine ruler want to stop for some fast food on the way?” You asked sarcastically. Loki’s manner transitioned from his intimidating look to amused as he let out a soft chuckle. 

___

Getting to the garage was a lot easier than you expected. With practically everyone gone nobody saw you and Loki made it to the rows of cars that were perfectly lined up. When you were first moving in Tony explained to you that most of the vehicles had keys hung up accordingly on a grid wall. Most of that conversation he mostly bragged that at least three-quarters of the cars belonged to him personally, which at least gave you a wide variety to choose from. “Got a preference?” You asked Loki, perusing the key selections. Loki looked back at the cars with a sour look, “Please tell me we are not driving any of those.” You were bemused at his remark, “What’s wrong with them? I mean, sure they’re a bit pretentious like that Ferrari- and those other two Ferrari's… but there are a few cool ones we could borrow.” You scanned the row, a black car caught your eye. “How about this Tesla? I heard they’re pretty cool.” Part of you knew that taking a car that glamorous would catch a few eyes, but if you were going to break the rules might as well go all the way in style. “Whatever you think is best.” Loki responded, “Personally I would never be caught dead in any of these, but if this is the only mode of transportation, then it will be adequate for the night.” No matter what you said to the man you could never seem to satisfy him, even if it was for a moment. You plucked the key from the slot and the two of you made your way to the sleek Tesla. Simultaneously you both entered the car. When you turned the key in the ignition you expected the screen in the dashboard to show different selections, except you were greeted by the display illuminating a video of a lit fireplace. A wave of warmth flooded the car as if the fire actually gave out heat from the heating system. The speakers blasted a funky tune of smooth jazz music, and without warning both yours and Loki’s seat reclined backwards. “Well well well, I didn’t realize this was your true intention for the night.” said Loki, showing off a wicked grin. “If you wanted to go a different route, we could have stayed upstairs.” “What? No! I didn’t-” Your face went beet red. You shot up away from the reclined seat when you tried to fiddle with the controls. After a few buttons pressed and smacks on the screens the fireplace video and heat turned off as well as the music. You readjusted your seat before selecting the maps to enter in the location of the club. God I hope they cleaned in here before we got here. You thought to yourself. “We’re never going to talk about this again.” You only heard a chuckle from the god next to you, your heart was beating out of your chest. Why was it doing that? Maybe it was because you were still in shock by the unexpected romance mode the car was set to. Yes, that was it.

___

Driving in downtown New York at night always brought a sense of surrealistic peace to you. The way the lights lit the structures in the distance, the ambiance, the shadows bent in contrast, everything melded together perfectly. You have only lived in New York for less than a year, but you would consider it to be one of the only few places you enjoyed residing in. After the incident in 2012, you fled as far as you could until you reached Maine. For a year it was your shelter, then Pennsylvania for six months, then Vermont for two years, and so on. You jumped from state to state in the northeast area for five years. For even longer you knew that Tony could be your biological father. At any time you could have gone to Stark Tower, to follow the only lead you had read once in a file years ago. Yet you didn’t. Instead you hid from the past of who you were and what you were forced to do. If it wasn’t for the voice in the back at your head screaming you would have left the country the second you had the chance. When you finally had enough of the voice there was only one remedy you knew that could soothe the coarse yells that have been echoing in your ears. The moment you stepped foot in front of the tower, the voice ceased. Now you wished there was another voice to tell you what to do now. Originally your plan was to leave the country, perhaps Paris, find a cozy cottage on the outskirts of town away from the population. Maybe get a cat or two, maybe a bird. The point was to finally be free and forget the past, to finally be alone. But there was a tug in a different direction. The direction that kept you with your friends, Maya and Lilly. A chance to be part of a family with the Avengers, who’s trust you have gained from most of the team the near two months you’ve been there. Even Bucky was slowly starting to initiate conversations with you. Even with the new, unexpected life that was thrown your way, making the decision to leave it behind or stick with it was a sea of voice in your mind. For tonight however, you were going to drown out the voices with liquor, loud EDM, and dancing. All of course while keeping an eye on the Asgardian prince. Speaking of which, you thought that he has most likely never been to an earthling party. “So…” you droned out, Loki’s gaze still out the window, “I’m sure you probably haven’t been to a club on Earth before, so I’m giving you a heads up that this is going to be different than whatever parties you’re used to.” Loki cocked an eyebrow, finally turning his head to you, “And what parties would that be?” “I don’t know. I thought it was more like royal stuff with balls and fancy dresses.” Considering he was a prince and the stories Thor told you about Asgard (not to mention Thor and Loki’s choice of fashion and speech), you only assumed Loki had only been to medieval like parties. Loki smirked, almost as if he was reminiscing about the memories, “We did have parties similar to those on Asgard. However I have observed and even participated in Midgardian-like events.” “Oh yeah? When was the last time you partied or to put it in simpler terms, ‘go out’?” Loki thought for a moment, “The most recent I recall was on Sakaar. True the ruler was a clueless sociopath who wanted everything his way, but he did throw marvelous events.” “He sounds like somebody I know.” You teased, not getting a very positive response from Loki. You changed the subject before an awkward silence could interfere, “We need to make a pit stop before we get to the club.” “What for?” “I didn’t have time to get my friend a gift.” It was only five minutes later when you got to the store Lilly loved. It was a small spiritual shop that sold crystals, candles, all sorts of things that Lilly had interest in. She’s a self-proclaimed witch, which didn’t bother you, except for certain incense she burned that filled the entire apartment, nearly setting the smoke alarm off. Hopefully they sold something that Lilly would like and didn’t have. You turned off the car and unbuckled when you noticed Loki wasn’t moving, “Come on, I’m not leaving you alone.” Loki gave an annoyed look, but quietly obeyed and exited the car. The store was small but had a lot of aisles to peruse. You and Loki definitely were out of place, with it’s dark wood floor and even darker concrete walls. Actually, with Loki’s black suit and demeanor he could fit right in. But you were only there for five minutes tops, not wanting to waste any more time. Going through each aisle you took note of what Lilly would enjoy. Most of the items you knew she already had, except for a few mugs that were cheesy like “Witch Please” or “Witches Be Crazy”. The first thing you needed to do was pick out a birthday card, which thankfully the store had a small display on the side. While reading through the cheesy ones, you settled on a card that had a cat on the cover, but had a thoughtful message on the inside. Looking over to Loki, you found him perplexed at not only the greeting cards, but the general atmosphere of the store. “So this friend, she actually is a witch?” “Yeah, but she doesn’t practice a lot of spells. She mostly does tarot cards and sage burnings.” You didn’t fully understand her lifestyle, but you respected it nonetheless. Loki furrowed his brows before continuing down the aisles. After finding Lilly’s card, you skimmed down the aisle until a book caught your eye. The title read: 101 Love Spells to Spice up Your Relationship. You picked up the book, examining the cover and flipped through a few of the pages, taking notice of the more sensual spells. You actually considered buying it as a joke, until a familiar voice rang in your ear. “I didn’t realize Midgard had spell books, especially of the sultry design.” You jumped from the sudden lack of personal space. Loki was leaning towards your ear, observing the book from your hand. “I’m not buying it.” You blurted, taking a step away that ended more like a shuffle, “I mean, this is just a gag book. I wasn’t actually considering it.” If only you had a mirror to prove to yourself your face was red. You tossed the book back onto the shelf with a thud. Next to it was another book, Spells For Self Care. Flipping through the pages this was the perfect book for Lilly. D.I.Y. organic face masks, spells to calm your mind, even some advice on how to deal with stressful energies. You tucked the book under your arm along with the card, “Let’s get out of here,” you said to Loki, determined for you and him to forget about the conversation prior. The two of you checked out the items along with a gift bag and some colorful tissue paper. You were in there a little over five minutes, but you would still make it to the club in time. The drive was short, but the silence made it feel longer. You didn’t know what to talk about to a literal demigod, and small talk wasn’t your forte in the first place. If it weren’t for the traffic you would speed just a bit faster to get to the club even sooner. What else could you talk about with Loki? So what’s your favorite color? Your hopes and dreams? If you had to marry, kill, or f- “Y/N?” Loki asked. “Hm?” You were so lost in thought you didn’t realize you arrived. “Oh, yeah I’m just looking for a spot.” You pulled into a parking garage a few blocks away. The only space you could squeeze into was on the third story, and just your luck the elevator was out of service, forcing the two of you to walk down the concrete stairs in your heels. When you finally made it to the front of the club, the line wasn’t extremely long, but you remembered Maya saying something about telling the bouncer your name and you were in Lilly’s party. So just as Maya said, the bouncer pulled away the velvet rope, but not before asking about Loki. “He’s with me.” You stated. The bouncer gave a questioning glare, but let him through as well. Before you opened the doors to the club itself, you pulled Loki aside in the lounge. “Before we go in, there are a few ground rules.” Loki rolled his eyes, “I thought we already settled those earlier.” “Yes and no. First off, you’re not allowed out of my sight. If I need to go to the bathroom, my friends are in charge of you. Second, don’t try anything funny. Thor told me you like to play tricks, but not tonight. Are we clear?” He grinned ear to ear, placing his hand on his chest, “I give you my word I will not play a trick on your friends.” “Great.” You nodded, averting your gaze, “And one question, do you think anybody will recognize you?” Loki’s grin slowly faded as he tilted his head, “What do you mean?” “Your reputation isn’t exactly… favorable. I don’t know how much you made the news.” “You didn’t know who I was when we first met.” He had a point, you were a bit busy escaping with your life from actual creatures. “Not many people cared to memorize this face. I’ve been here long enough and nobody bats an eye. Now I must ask you the same question.” You tilted your head this time, “I was told of your predicament. Are you sure no one will recognize you?” To be honest, you didn’t know. You’ve been really good about keeping out of trouble, and you haven’t seen any agents in years. “I’m sure we’ll both be fine.” Loki’s grin curved its way back in, “Great.” You sure as hell hoped you sounded convincing. Not just for him, but for yourself.

[make-it-mavis]

The Right Thing (pt 1 of 3)

Wreck-it Ralph AU 1842 words Content warnings: themes of violence, drugs, conversation of police brutality Characters: Surge Protector, Dr. Mario, Turbo, Fix-it Felix, Make-it Mavis, Maribo ( @nijimarii‘s OC )

Premise: Being in charge of safety for all games plugged into Game Central Station, the Surge Protector has the ability to instantly incapacitate a violent character. This is used only in the most dire circumstances, and only when he can be certain the move will be non-lethal. But what happens when his certainty is near disastrously wrong?

>Part 2<

Surge did the right thing.

He made a tough call. He made a snap decision that saved a life. He was only doing his job. He only ever did his job.

It was just an ugly truth of said job that sometimes, doing the right thing would feel so wrong.

He tried to hold onto these facts as he walked down the hospital halls. The game was actually fairly quiet that evening, the only sounds being soft beeping, muffled conversation between volunteer staff, and the echo of his own shoes clopping against the floor. Part of him wished for more hustle and bustle, if only to impede the numbness creeping into him. It had been hard enough fighting it as he spoke to the victim only minutes prior.

Surprisingly, she was not calling for any punishment of her attacker. It seemed possible that she may have been too shaken and confused to make a clear decision -- after all, her own account of the events seemed very vague, even when he asked her to repeat herself. He hated making her say it again, but her words just kept pushing him far away, back into the moment it happened. He could see it so vividly.

One moment, she was saying hello. The next, hands were around her neck, and the attacker’s furious screams echoed through GCS.

Then he saved her. That was what mattered.

Slightly raised voices perked him to attention as he found himself approaching the waiting room. He could see the back of Dr. Mario’s coat, but as he began to round the corner, something in his stomach dropped.

It was the attacker’s friends and family.

Well… friend and family member.

He had not been looking forward to facing Turbo and Fix-it Felix after what he had done. But, holding onto his resolve, he reminded himself that part of the job was also dealing with the aftermath of tough decisions. Civilians did not always understand why he did the things he had to do, but keeping them safe was always so much more important than being liked.

To his slight relief, the two did not actually seem to notice him at first. He passed them by carefully, finding a place to stand in the deserted waiting room while Turbo and Felix spoke to Dr. Mario. The doctor seemed to be calmly talking them both down, but for different reasons.

“Oh, Doc, are you sure there’s nothin’ I can do? I’ve healed Mavy outta some real nasty pain,” Felix was insisting.

“I’m afraid a’not,” Dr. Mario shook his head gently but firmly. “This is a problem with’a code, not’a hit points. The a’very best a’we can do is keep’a her brain active with’a electrolytes and’a music, and’a wait for her to’a stabilize.”

Felix seemed no less anxious, but he resigned. “Alright. You’re the doctor…”

Turbo was, unsurprisingly, less understanding. He tried to push past Dr. Mario, but he was blocked with a strong hand across his collar.

“What?” he protested. “You said all you’re doin’ is waitin’. How could I possibly get in your way?”

“I told’a you -- it’s not’a safe. For’a now, she’a needs to be isolated. Anyone being in’a proximity to’a her code poses a risk to’a both’a parties.”

“You’re puttin’ your own party at risk here, Doc,” Turbo threatened half-heartedly.

“I’ll’a take my’a chances,” Dr. Mario said flatly. “I’a promise, I will let’a you in the moment it is a’safe to’a do so. Both of’a you.”

“No,” Turbo said sharply. “Just me.”

Felix just sighed, giving the impression they had been over it a few times.

Over the intercom, a volunteer called Dr. Mario away, and he bid the boys goodbye for the time being. Left to their own devices, they immediately settled back into anxious, but tired bickering. Surge swallowed dryly, knowing it was time to own up and explain his actions to at least one sprite who would not want to hear it. Back straight, he approached slowly, until he caught Turbo’s eye.

As the Surge Protector, he had to deal with a whole lot of dirty looks in his life. For the most part, he was used to it. But the look in Turbo’s eyes was unlike any he had been served before. It was not dirty -- it was filthy.

Surge opened his mouth to speak, but Turbo cut him off immediately.

“Aw, look, Fix-it,” he growled. “He’s come to finish the job.”

Felix turned, and to Surge’s relief, his eyes were more concerned than anything else. “Mr. Surge Protector,” Felix greeted him shakily, cautiously, as if he believed Surge should not have been there.

“Gentlemen,” Surge finally managed to say gently but clearly, “I feel I owe you an explanation for my decision tonight--”

“Oh,” Turbo laughed in his throat, turning to face Surge fully. “Yeah. Yeah, y’do. ‘Cause, y’know, I find it real interestin’ that y’saw a girl who weighs like ten pounds n’ decided, ‘Hmm, I’m too chickenbits to fight her. Better freakin’ kill her.’”

Surge felt a punch inside his chest.

“Turbo,” Felix scolded quietly. “Sir, Mavy’s not-- she’s not-- I mean, she’s alive.”

“Oh, don’t, you’ll break his heart,” Turbo spat.

“I know she is,” Surge nodded. “Thank the Devs. I… understand that you must be angry with me. But please, believe me when I say it truly was the only way to save the little one’s life. Another second longer, and Mavis could have snapped her tiny neck in two. Trying to physically pull her off would’ve just been too risky for Maribo.”

“Ah! Okay!” Turbo grinned, spreading his arms a bit. “Now I get it. Ya had to decide whose life was more important, and obviously some innocent lil’ potato’s more valuable than a buff-poppin’ Easter Egg, right?”

He did not kill her, he assured himself. He did not know. He had no idea. He did the right thing.

When he heard the screaming, and he saw little Maribo dangling from Mavis’ hands, he came at the situation with what he knew. Mavis was high, which was risky in and of itself. But even with her violent outburst and her eyes shining a bright binary blue, she should have been safe. Her sprite’s colors were correct, she was perfectly opaque, she was upright and mobile, she was even forming full (angry) sentences.

All signs that it would have been safe to shock her.

“No,” Surge replied as calmly as he could. “I assure you, I had no idea how lethal a shock would have been for her in that moment. She was still exhibiting all signs of a sprite within safe shocking range. Had I known that her code was so fragile, I’d have never--”

“Oh, cut the bullcrit already!” Turbo advanced into his space, and Surge held his ground. “Y’just couldn’t wait for an excuse to off her, could ya? You’ve hated her since the day ya met her!”

“That’s not true,” Surge furrowed his brow. His eyes darted to Felix for a moment, who had clearly given up already, electing to sit hunched in one of the chairs, rubbing his face.

“Yeah,” Turbo nodded, smiling without a trace of happiness. “Yeah, y’have. Y’didn’t shock her to save anybody -- y’just wanted to get off to the sight of her hittin’ the ground.”

Ice water seeped from Surge’s heart at the memory.

It was not really the sight that stuck so viciously in his mind. It was the sound. Her body burst immediately into grating, distorted hissing and popping before she could even hit the floor. He remembered the dull thud of her head striking the ground, Maribo’s urgent coughing, and the alarmed gasps and shrieks of passersby.

The way her body lay motionless, her sprite glitching, flashing, shuddering, her binary darting in and out in warped clusters, making him think that he had just pushed her over the brink of corruption… That would not soon leave his mind.

“I took absolutely no joy in what I did,” Surge said slowly. “I’ve never wanted to hurt Mavis, not once.”

Turbo shook his head, his eyes venomous, stepping in even closer. “I know what this is, a’ight? Even if y’did kill her, it wouldn’t matter, because she’s a ‘junkie’. She’s a ‘problem.’ Her life’s not important to you, n’ there’s proof a’ that lyin’ in a hospital bed in here, barely alive, because y’didn’t care enough to try not to kill her. Ya freakin’ coward.”

Felix moaned in protest.

Surge met Turbo’s molten gaze, looking down with as much composure as he could find. Authoritatively, he instructed, “Step away from me, sir.”

“No,” Turbo hissed, barely above a whisper. “Shock me.”

Surge stared.

“Go on. Do it. Or am I somehow less threatenin’ than an Easter Egg with a tiny code?”

In his heart, he could feel the desire to push back, even a little bit. There was the fleeting thought that he was letting the little racing champion drive all over him, but his mind knew better. Turbo was in distress, and he was lashing out by trying to bully him. He dealt with his fair share of bullies in his line of work, and he knew that the very last thing one should do with a bully is give them what they want.

So he gave Turbo no reaction.

The smaller man’s face fell into a disgusted sneer, but still, there was some self-satisfied air to it that made Surge wonder if he had still gotten what he wanted after all. “That’s what I thought,” Turbo muttered, turning a cold shoulder and prowling out of Surge’s bubble. “Freakin’ coward.”

Surge took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. It seemed to him that he had long overstayed his welcome -- probably since the second he walked in, if he were honest with himself. But he did all he could.

“Well,” he sighed plainly, “I tried. If you wanna be mad, that’s fine. I get it. Just know that you both have my apology for worryin’ you.”

Felix looked up from his hand and returned the sigh. “I’m not mad,” he said gently.

Hands curled into obvious fists in his pockets, Turbo growled something behind his teeth that almost sounded like “I ain’t worried.”

“And…” he continued a bit more cautiously, “hopefully at least one of you understands why I did what I did.”

Both boys answered immediately, “I do.”

Surge swallowed. “Then… I’ll be on my way.”

As he turned to leave, part of him wanted to offer well wishes for Mavis, but it almost seemed like a bad idea. After all, it was his fault she was in there. Even if he only did what he had to.

It was his fault.

But he had to.

He had to.

Over the sound of his shoes on the hospital floor as he made his way out, as he fought the numbness creeping back in, he could have sworn he heard Felix’s voice say, “Turbo, for land’s sake. He was just doin’ his job.”

[owlways-and-forever]

Summary: Lily Evans thought her life would be normal. Well, as normal as it can be for a muggle-born witch in England. But when her boyfriend turns out to be the prince of the wizarding world, and tensions begin to rise among factions of wizarding society, Lily must find her way in situations she never anticipated, and try not to lose sight of her identity. Word Count: 6,355 (27,974) Links: ao3 | FFnet | Tumblr: Ch 1, Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4, Ch 5, Ch 6

A/N: Okay, so first of all, sorry for missing an update and then being late for this weekend's. Life has been a little crazy and a touch stressful lately. I got a promotion at work, and even though its awesome, its been a little stressful trying to adjust to my new position, and my schedule has been thrown off. I'm still going to try to stick to every other weekend, but it may or may not happen - my sister's baby shower is in a few weeks and then it won't be long until her due date, so life is going to be pretty crazy for a while. But I'll do my best!

This is a very long chapter though, so at least you're rewarded for all your patience! It was a lot of fun writing this, and trying to envision how Hogwarts graduation might work. Full disclosure - I do not know any latin, so everything here is Google translated/from a source describing Cambridge Uni's graduations. You'll see a few names in the graduation that you might not recognize - I borrowed some of my OCs from my other Marauder's era work, just a couple that I love with all my heart and felt compelled to bring along. Plus, you know, I had to bulk up the numbers somehow - it wouldn't really be realistic to have only 8 graduates, now would it? I hope you enjoy this chapter! 

And a friendly reminder that you can follow @whitefirepalace on Instagram for some edits that follow along with the story!Enjoy and feel free to leave a comment! :D

Chapter 7

“Oh my god, will you just do as I say?” Lily hissed exasperatedly out in the hall, and James had to stifle a laugh.

Moments later Marlene was shoved unceremoniously through the doorway of the classroom, tripping a bit over her feet before steadying herself and looking around. Dorcas and Mary entered a bit more normally behind her, with Lily following after all of them and closing the door.

“What the hell is going on?” Marlene swore, glaring at James and Lily.

“There’s something that I want you to know, that I want you to hear from me,” James began nervously. Somehow, sharing his secret never got any easier. Lily laced their fingers together and he could feel warmth and reassurance flowing from her.

“Are you dying or something?” Marlene asked with narrowed eyes. “Oh my god, did you knock Lily up?”

“No!” he answered hurriedly, completely caught off guard by the suggestion. “No, I… I’ve been at school under a pseudonym, and at graduation they’ll be calling me forward as James Eideard Aneirin, Prince of Scotland. There’s more titles and technically it should be HRH, but I’ve got Dumbledore to stick to that. It’s a tiny bit less pompous I think.”

“Are you genuinely telling us that you’re Prince James?” Marlene scoffed, while Mary and Dorcas shared surprised looks behind her back.

“Yep,” James said, pulling out the signet ring he kept hidden on a chain under his clothes and tossing it to her. “Family heirloom that, so be careful.”

Marlene turned the little ring over in her fingers, examining every small detail with wide eyes. When she was satisfied, she handed it back to him, her mouth gaping in shock.

“Who else knows?” Mary asked quietly.

“Well, Lily obviously,” he replied, fingers nervously playing with his glasses. “Sirius, Remus and Peter. And all the staff. But after graduation, everyone will know, so you don’t have to keep the secret.”

“You knew this whole time!” Marlene hissed, swatting at Lily.

Lily simply shrugged. Of course she knew, and of course she’d kept his secret. That’s what partners did, after all.

“Aren’t you worried that people will tell stories to the press about what a horrible, scandalous party animal you are and stuff?” Dorcas asked.

“A bit, but to be honest, I think the people who actually know any juicy stories won’t say anything,” James answered after a moment. “I’m pretty careful about the company I keep.”

“I suppose we should feel honoured then,” Marlene quipped, with just a touch too much bite in it.

“I’m sorry if you feel like I’ve betrayed you by not telling you sooner,” he said, the picture of contrition. “I just… I always wanted to be myself, to be normal.”

“It’s alright, James, we understand,” Mary answered for the group. “Thank you for telling us.”

James nodded and turned to Lily.

“I’ll leave you guys be for a bit,” he whispered, so only she could hear. “If there’s anything you need, or if they have any questions…”

Lily smiled and pushed a lock of his hair away from his forehead.

“We’ll be fine, go find the boys.”

James ducked out of the room, leaving the four girls alone. It was silent for a few moments as Lily waited to see what her friends would say.

“How could you not tell us?” Marlene burst out at last.

“He asked me not to,” Lily said, knowing full well that it would not be a popular answer.

“And apparently he matters more than we do,” Marlene spat.

It was an unfair statement. In the beginning, of course her friends had mattered more. James had just been a boyfriend and they were her best friends. But along the way he had become so much more - her partner, her future. He wasn’t more important than her friends, but they weren’t more important than him anymore either. They both mattered to her immensely. They were equal.

“It’s his life, Marlene,” Lily replied, trying to push down the sting of Marlene’s words.

“Oh, it’s not like any of us hate the royal family and would’ve tried to off him if we knew,” Marlene huffed, starting to pace back and forth.

“I think she meant that it wasn’t hers to tell,” Mary offered helpfully, but it only made Marlene spin on her.

“And you’re not mad at Sirius for not telling you?” she asked harshly.

“No, but we’re also… we’re not James and Lily, Whatever we are will be done after graduation, or at least by the end of the summer,” Mary admitted.

“Why would you say that?” Lily asked, partly in concern for her friend, but partly trying to seize any change in the conversation.

“It’s been fun, but it just could never go anywhere,” Mary shrugged, though she seemed to be putting on a good face. She had never been the most forthcoming about her feelings. “His family and they’re… station… he could never be with a muggle-born. And besides everyone knows that Sirius and Remus are in love with each other and they just don’t know it.”

Dorcas wrapped an arm around Mary, and Lily reached out for her, but Mary just shook her head.

“No, it’s fine, really. If they ever figure it out, they’ll be happy together,” Mary pressed. “I’ll find somebody more suited for me once we’re away from school, I’m sure.”

“There’ll be so many more people,” Lily agreed.

The room grew quiet again, no one really sure what to say.

“So I guess you’re going to be a princess then,” Marlene said, a bit begrudgingly. Lily smiled. She knew it, sooner or later, Marlene’s fascination with the royal family would overpower whatever else she felt.

“Yeah,” she answered, smiling more broadly. “Not imminently or anything, but someday.”

“So you don’t want James to propose yet?” Dorcas asked, her tone a little bit doubtful.

“I’m not sure I feel any which way about it,” Lily shrugged. “I don’t know that I want to be someone’s wife yet, but I’m also pretty positive about him, so I don’t really feel like I need to wait. I guess whenever he asks, I’ll say yes.”

“So is graduation the first time you’ll meet his family?” Marlene asked, her anger dissipating with every question.

“No, I went to the Palace during the Easter holidays.” Lily began telling her friends all about seeing James as the Prince during official duties and seeing the Palace and her talk with the Queen and her freakout afterward. They listened with rapt attention, and Lily realized just how good it felt to let out this big secret.

o . o . o

James sighed as he set aside his glasses, dipping his fingers into the tub of smoothing solution and applying it generously to his hair until it lay cooperatively, looking perfectly coiffed. Over the years he’d gotten quite good at styling his hair for these appearances, always going for a signature sweepback with a clean side part. A real Christopher Reeve-Superman look. It was how Prince James was supposed to look - neat and tidy and perfect. It never felt like who he was at Hogwarts though, where he had been free to be simply James Potter.

But all that was ending. James Potter didn’t exist anymore. Today, he would step out into the Great Hall and James Potter would vanish into thin air, his privacy and his personal identity gone. It was time to assume his public face and his duties as the heir to the throne.

For all that James had told Lily that he wouldn’t change after graduation, how could he not? Sure, fundamentally he might be the same… he’d stil like the same foods and yell at Quidditch players more than he ought to during matches and he’d always love Lily. But at the same time, he would have different responsibilities and pressures every day. Instead of homework and Prefect duties it would be patronages and state visits. Diplomacy and politics and staying out of all of it while still leading the country through it. And on top of all of it, there was the war. Who would he become to deal with all of that? He didn’t know, and it terrified him.

“C’mon Your Highness,” Sirius mocked, tying his own bowtie. “You don’t want to be late for your own graduation. What on earth would people think then?”

“Maybe that I’m bloody human,” James snapped, snatching his black robe off his bed.

“Grumpy today, are we?” Sirius pushed, swatting James’ hands aside and straightening his bowtie for him.

“I just hate that everything has to change now,” James huffed. “I hate putting you all through this, and Lily. All of you are going to be under so much scrutiny now.”

“Well, lucky thing your friend is devilishly handsome then,” Sirius laughed, shrugging off James’ concerns like it was water rolling down his back.

“We all knew what we were getting into,” Remus interrupted, stepping out of the bathroom. “If any of this bothered us, we could’ve walked away a long time ago. We’re with you, we don’t mind.”

“Remus, especially for you… people will find out eventually…” James groaned, dragging his hands across his face.

“It’s okay, it was never going to stay secret outside of Hogwarts anyway,” Remus shrugged, the worry in his eyes the only betrayal of the true weight of his feelings. “It’s a lot more conspicuous when you don’t have eight teachers covering for you every month.”

“Remus is right,” Peter said quietly. “We all chose to stand by your side. You aren’t forcing any of us into anything.”

James nodded reluctantly, trying to resist the urge to run his hands through his hair even as his fingers twitched.

“Let’s go, or we really will be late,” Remus said.

The four boys nodded together and grabbed their robes, setting off through the Common Room and leaving Gryffindor Tower for the last time. They walked through the quiet halls, stopping at the Transfiguration classroom, where all the graduating Gryffindors were gathered. Professor McGonagall sat at her desk, pointedly ignoring the chattering students, not caring what they did as they waited as long as they weren’t disruptive.

It wasn’t unusual for everyone to look the same, since they had, after all, all worn the same uniform every day. But for some reason it seemed more odd today. The boys all had black pants and white shirts, with red bowties and thin red cummerbunds under their black graduation robes. The girls looked similar in black skirts with red waistbands and white dress shirts. They all held hoods in their hand that had different colored linings indicating their primary course of study. Lily’s was green, for Healing, James’ was purple for Law. Sirius had a red hood for Defense, while Remus had a blue hood for Academia and Peter had orange for Governance. James looked at the rainbow around the room, picking out the rest of his friends. Marlene wore red like Sirius, Dorcas had orange, and Mary had a double striped hood - white for Arts and green for Healing. She was one of only two students who had been allowed to do a double course.

Lily smiled at James when she saw him, and the four boys went over to join their friends. James reached out for Lily’s hand, lacing his fingers together with hers and squeezing tightly. He knew she must be as anxious as he was for the day. But she only smiled and chatted happily with their friends, hiding her nerves well.

Marlene did a double-take as James joined them, her eyes scanning over his face critically.

“It really is you,” she said, and James tried to shrug nonchalantly in response.

The minutes ticked by agonizingly slowly until finally Professor McGonagall stood from her desk, and the room immediately fell silent, fifteen pairs of eyes focused on her.

“Please line up alphabetically by last name,” she said, fixing them all with a stern look. “I trust you don’t need my assistance with that.”

There was a brief pause before they all scurried into motion, hurrying to find their spots. It didn’t take them long to get in order, especially with Professor McGonagall watching them with a stern expression. But she seemed to soften as they waited to leave.

“Before we join the other houses and make our way to the Great Hall for the ceremony, I want to tell you all what a pleasure it has been to have you in my house.” She seemed to get emotional, her eyes glistening slightly. “You are an exceptional group of young men and women, and I look forward to seeing the many wonderful things that you will accomplish in the years to come.”

“I knew you liked us!” Sirius shouted triumphantly, and the rest of the Gryffindors burst into peals of laughter.

“And despite a lovely seven years together, I greet your departure with joy - especially you, Mr. Black - and wish you the best of luck moving forward,” she replied, but the smile playing at the corner of her lips was enough to tell them all that she was teasing them. Perhaps she wouldn’t go so far as to say that she would miss them, but there was not a student in the bunch that did not fill her with a warm sense of affection and pride. They had come a long way. “Right, time to move. Follow me.”

With that, she swept from the room, the line of Gryffindors following behind her. Professor Flitwick was leading the line of Ravenclaws through the halls as well, and they all shared excited and nervous smiles with each other. Professor Sprout and Professor Slughorn arrived at the Entrance Hall with the lines of graduating Hufflepuffs and Slytherins at the same time, and they all stepped into their formation.

Music trumpeted through the Great Hall as the oak doors swung open, and a whirlpool of excitement and anticipation bubbled in James’ stomach as they all marched through together. The tables had been removed, replaced with rows upon rows of wooden chairs, each occupied by a family member. Four rows had been left empty at the front for the graduating students, and they all filed in stoically. An opera box had been added to the right, set back into the wall so that it was cleverly concealed from those sitting further back. The King and Queen sat there, looking as regal as ever in their crimson and gold robes. James wondered how such a box had even been made, but he supposed the answer was simply ‘magic’.

The music seamlessly transitioned into a fanfare, and the entire crowd stood, a hundred voices joining in a chorus of God Save the Queen. When it finished, everyone resumed their seats, and Dumbledore stepped forward to initiate the ceremony.

“It is with great joy that I am able to open this graduation. These students have completed a very challenging array of coursework, and many of them have done so while pursuing a myriad of wonderful extracurricular activities. We are all very proud of the feat that they have accomplished, and feel that each deserves immense recognition.”

Black silk banners streamed out from the tops of the windows, darkening the room.

“We must first take a moment to remember and acknowledge Davey Gudgeon, who would have been graduating today if he had not departed this world prematurely. His loss has been felt severely by many of our students, and he will always be remembered as the truly exceptional student that he was.”

Professor Dumbledore bowed his head, and everyone in the Great Hall echoed his movement. The room was silent as those that knew Davey reflected on his friendship. After a minute, Dumbledore raised his head again, and the banners covering the window rolled themselves up and then vanished with a snap .

“Now, for a more celebratory mood!” His voice had taken on a much more jovial tune, the smile reappearing on his face.

Professor McGonagall stepped forward, conjuring a scroll and unspooling it as she began to read in a booming voice.

“Dignissima domina, Archididascalum et tota Academia praesento vobis haec viros quam scio tam moribus quam doctrina esse idoneum ad gradum assequendum Academia; idque tibi fide mea praesto totique Academiae.”

All of the students who had followed the academic course stood, their blue hoods blended together like a bright summer sky.

“I formally request that the following men and women be awarded a degree in Academia,” Professor McGonagall said, in English this time, the formality of her demeanor never wavering for a second. She read through each student’s name and, and one at a time they stepped forward to become graduates.

“Remus John Lupin,” she announced, and James straightened up, watching as his friend moved forward and knelt before the Headmaster, his head bowed reverently.

“Auctoritate mihi commissa admitto te ad gradum Academia, in nomine Ministerium, Hogwarts, et Godric Gryffindor,” Dumbledore said, as his hands closed around Remus’.

Remus arose and turned around with a grin spreading from ear to ear as he returned to his seat. Once all the students from the Academic course had their degrees conferred upon them, Professor McGonagall began again.

“Dignissima domina, Archididascalum et tota Academia praesento vobis haec viros quam scio tam moribus quam doctrina esse idoneum ad gradum assequendum Artium; idque tibi fide mea praesto totique Academiae. I formally request that the following men and women be awarded a degree in Arts.”

There were only three students who stood, wearing the white hoods, the contrast against their black robes looking rather like an old-timey photograph.

“Benjamin Daniel Fenwick,” Professor McGonagall called, and Benjy stepped forward, kneeling in front of Professor Dumbledore to be granted his degree in the name of the Ministry, Hogwarts, and Godric Gryffindor.

“Mary Charlotte MacDonald,” McGonagall called next, and Mary floated forward, smiling sweetly.

As Mary knelt, she listened to Dumbledore’s words like they were breathing new life into her, as if they could transform her in some tangible way, rather than just being stuffy words dictated by a centuries-old ceremony.

“Sybill Cassandra Trelawney,” was called forward next, nearly knocking Mary over in her haste to make her way to the dais.

She blinked her large, buglike eyes at Professor Dumbledore and clung to his hands as he recited the words, “...in nomine Ministerium, Hogwarts, et Rowena Ravenclaw.”

“Dignissima domina, Archididascalum et tota Academia praesento vobis haec viros quam scio tam moribus quam doctrina esse idoneum ad gradum assequendum Curatio,” Professor McGonagall began again, calling forth the second largest course, “idque tibi fide mea praesto totique Academiae. I formally request that the following men and women be awarded a degree in Healing. Lily Jane Evans.”

James felt pride swell within him as he watched Lily move forward and kneel before Dumbledore. She bowed her head and locks of red hair fell forward over her shoulder, obscuring her face, but it didn’t matter. James knew that her expression was solemn and her eyes were probably closed as Dumbledore clasped her hands and recited the words.

“Auctoritate mihi commissa admitto te ad gradum Curatio, in nomine Ministerium, Hogwarts, et Godric Gryffindor.”

Lily stood, beaming, looking as proud as James felt of her. She had worked so hard, especially during the past year, and had excelled in all her courses. He felt a pang of regret that her degree would be for nought soon enough, forced to sit and collect dust when she became the diplomat and cultural representative that the Royal Family required. If she agreed, that was.

Mary was called forth again, as solemn the second time as she had been the first. Alice Elizabeth Matthews was next, the petite Hufflepuff nearly bouncing as she approached the Headmaster. Fabian Alphaeus Prewett followed her, and then Severus Tobias Snape. James had to resist the urge to hiss audibly as his nemesis stepped forward to receive his degree, but he reminded himself that no matter how much he despised the greasy bastard, Lily would not tolerate any hijinks from him. But it was a good thing that his wand was in his trunk anyway. Emma Grace Vanity was the last to step forward from the Healing course, ending what felt like a very long slew of students after the brevity of the previous two groups.

They were halfway through, and James could feel all kinds of emotions bubbling inside of him. He was excited for his turn to come, and nervous about what it would mean. He was bored by the ceremonial nature of all of this and impatient to get through it all, and yet he felt a thrill and a surge of pride every time one of his friends was officially declared a graduate.

“Dignissima domina, Archididascalum et tota Academia praesento vobis haec viros quam scio tam moribus quam doctrina esse idoneum ad gradum assequendum Jurisdictio; idque tibi fide mea praesto totique Academiae,” Professor McGonagall recited.

James stood along with the rest of the students in his course. He vaguely wondered if he was shaking from all the nervous energy coursing through his veins.

“I formally request that the following men and women be awarded a degree in Law.”

And so it began.

“Amelia Margaret Edith Bones,” Professor McGonagall called, once the entire group had vacated their seats and stepped into the aisle along the outer wall.

And then, in no time at all, there were no students standing in front of him.

“James Eideard Aneirin, Prince of Scotland,” Professor McGonagall called out in her commanding voice.

The Great Hall suddenly felt so silent that a pin could drop and simultaneously buzzing with shocked whispers. He felt paralyzed, unable to move forward, or move anywhere, move any part of his body at all. I told you so! he heard someone exclaim, and he felt his heart pound in his chest, beating against his ribcage like a captive phoenix trying to break free. Somewhere in his mind, James could hear the photographer hired for the graduation go crazy, the shutter clicking at warp speed. She probably saw what an opportunity she had - she would be the only photographer anywhere to have pictures of the Prince’s graduation. James felt his breathing quicken, sucking in shallow breaths, and he wondered if he was having a panic attack. It had happened in the blink of an eye, his whole world had shifted, and he felt like he had lost his footing. How was he not more prepared for this?

James’ eyes found Lily, sitting amongst the other Gryffindor students, and he tried to block out everything else, everything but her. Her green eyes focused on him, and she gave him an encouraging smile. It was all he needed. James stepped forward, walking across the empty space to the foot of the dais, where the Headmaster waited with a small smile. James knelt before him, extending his hands in a praying formation, and Dumbledore wrapped his own hands around them. James maintained eye contact, staring back into Professor Dumbledore’s icy blue gaze as he recited the words that were meant to change his life.

“Auctoritate mihi commissa admitto te ad gradum Curatio, in nomine Ministerium, Hogwarts, et Godric Gryffindor.”

Dumbledore gave him a small nod, and James stood, returning to his seat with his head held high. He had done it, finished school, earned his degree. There had been days that he doubted that he would make it, when his grades suffered from either his own shenanigans or forced absences due to his duties that set him behind. But he had the words resounding in his mind, combined with Professor Dumbledore’s proud expression, to remind him of his accomplishment.

He failed to pay attention to the rest of the students in his course, entirely in his own world as Emmeline Laurel Vance, Adrian Lee Wells, and Corban Aleris Fenton Yaxley were called forward to receive their degrees. It didn’t bother him too much though, he wasn’t particularly close to any of them. He liked Adrian and Emmeline well enough, and he was jealous that they would both be enrolling in the Auror training program. But the idea of Corban Yaxley getting a degree in Law , when he was hell-bent on seeing Voldemort take control of the entire wizarding world… it would be laughable if it weren’t so disgusting.

“Dignissima domina, Archididascalum et tota Academia praesento…”

The words sounded like a far off echo to James, and he had little interest in forcing his mind to return to the ceremony. The world of his thoughts was far more interesting.

“I formally request that the following men and women be awarded a degree in Governance.”

Those words finally brought James back to attention, his focus drifting slowly back to the events around him as he recognized that two of his friends were about to step forward. He waited impatiently as Reginald Alexander Cattermole and Mafalda Arias Hopkirk stepped forward first. Then Professor McGonagall called Dorcas Diane Meadowes forward and James straightened up a little bit to watch more closely. He could practically hear Lily grinning from ear to ear, and he knew she was applauding a little more enthusiastically as Dorcas returned to her seat, newly declared a graduate. Caius Lycaon Tryphonus Nott was next, and James had to try very hard not to heckle him as he received his degree.

“Peter Ian Pettigrew,” Professor McGonagall, and James felt like bursting with excitement. Of all his friends, Peter seemed to understand his academic reservations the most. Remus had always been scholarly, and very gifted, and he enjoyed studying and schoolwork more than anyone James had ever met before. Sirius was the opposite, lazy and laidback when it game to academics, and yet he was so naturally gifted that he didn’t need to put in any work to do respectably well. James and Peter had struggled a bit more, finding a kinship in their trials and tribulations.

“Auctoritate mihi commissa admitto te ad gradum Magisterium,” Professor Dumbledore announced, a particularly pleased smile on his face, “in nomine Ministerium, Hogwarts, et Godric Gryffindor.”

Peter stood, pride emanating from him like a radiant glow, and James led the entire crowd in a round of applause that would have made anyone think Peter had just been elected to be the Minister.

“Dignissima domina, Archididascalum et tota Academia,” Professor McGonagall began again, announcing the final course, “praesento vobis haec viros quam scio tam moribus quam doctrina esse idoneum ad gradum assequendum Praesidium; idque tibi fide mea praesto totique Academiae. I formally request that the following men and women be awarded a degree in Defense.”

The largest block of students stood, a group that radiated pride and determination. Every one of these students knew they were about to head into a war, not all of them on the same side, and they stood like soldiers ready for battle.

Bertram Conrad Aubrey was the first to step forward. Large, with thick, banded muscles, Bertram looked every bit a soldier, and he seemed imbued with a certainty that James wished he possessed.

“Sirius Orion Phinneas Black,” Professor McGonagall called, and James struggled to keep from wolf whistling. He was proud of Sirius too, he was proud of all his friends.

After having his degree conferred, Sirius turned back toward the waiting guests and flashed the most self-assured and charming smile that had ever been seen. It was no wonder half the girls in Hogwarts were in love with him. For good measure, he looked toward Marlene where she was waiting her turn and gave her a salacious wink that was not missed by anybody.

Antonin Aleksi Dolohov was next, and once more James had to suppress the hiss that rose inside him. It was well known that Dolohov had only gone with the Defense course because he felt that knowing all about defense made for the best offense.

Frank Christopher James Longbottom was called forward next, redeeming the program a bit. Frank was everything Dolohov was not. A pinnacle of light and goodness and honor. He came from an old family, not quite in the highest social class, but still James had known Frank since they were young. It made him happy to see Frank defending the people, he was real hero caliber.

After Frank, Professor McGonagall called forward Marlene Pilar McKinnon, and this time James could tell Lily was straining not to whoop with joy. The only word that James could ever think to describe Marlene was bad-ass, and graduation was no exception. She had brought her own flair to the dress code with black heels that were studded with tiny silver spikes and a set matching spiked earrings. Confidence wafted from her in waves as she strode up to the dais and knelt to receive her degree. When the conferral had been completed, she strutted back to her seat with purpose, ponytail swinging as she flashed Sirius a sinful smile.

Gideon Matteus Prewett was announced next, another credit to the program and to Gryffindor, and James looked forward to seeing the leader he was sure to become. Evan Mark Rosier stepped forward next, another Dolohov, and James rolled his eyes. The ceremony finished with Clara Jane Williams, who was a relatively positive note to end on. She gave Remus as shy smile as she returned to her seat, and James wondered - not for the first time - if there was more between them than they let on.

“It gives me great pleasure to present to all the family and friends here today the newest graduates of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!” Professor Dumbledore declared, and shouts of joy erupted from students and guests alike. “Please join us for a reception out on the grounds of the castle before your departure. And may I offer a friendly reminder that the Hogwarts Express will depart from Hogsmeade Station promptly at 6pm for all those who wish to take it. Otherwise, allow me to remind you that apparition, Floo powder, and departure by broomstick are all prohibited until you are off castle grounds. Thank you very much, and congratulations to all of our graduates and their supporters!”

The graduates filed out of the Great Hall first, not in any kind of procession, but more of a semi-organized press of people. As each of them walked through the ornate doors of the castle to the sloping lawn, a curled diploma appeared in their hands, tied with a ribbon in the colour of their course and bound with the wax seal of their house. James stared at his in amazement as Sirius and Peter chattered excitedly, enjoying the tangible evidence of his accomplishment. Lily slipped her hand into James’, startling him slightly, but he smiled when he saw her standing next to him.

“Congratulations, Miss Evans,” Queen Euphemia said, approaching the young couple. “We’re very proud of both of you.”

“Thanks, Mum,” James beamed, exchanging gleeful looks with Lily.

“I suppose you’ve made your choice then?” the Queen said to Lily, while King Fleamont gave them a curious look, completely oblivious to the conversation that had happened months earlier.

“Yeah, I have,” Lily answered, snuggling closer to James and looking up at him with such adoration.

If James and Lily heard the sound of snapping camera shutters following through the reception, they showed no sign of it. They were far too engrossed in the joy and excitement of the day. Not to mention, it was their very last day all together with their friends. Before long, they would be moving in different directions, pursuing a variety of careers and initiatives in all different places. They were all acutely aware that there was no guarantee that they would all be together like this again any time soon.

After the reception, students and families began to say their goodbyes, departing for the Hogwarts Express. James and Lily stayed the longest with their families, enjoying the relative privacy as twilight fell on the castle. It was less awkward having their families together here, in this somewhat neutral setting. Even though they were still decked out in their finery, they seemed less imposing away from the ornate halls of Whitefire Palace. And perhaps things always got easier between families as time progressed. Whatever the reason, Lily and James were both pleased to see their families melding together so well.

o . o . o

Lily was sharing a shitty flat in London with Mary, Alice, and Fabian. They were all starting the training course at St. Mungo’s, which only paid a very small stipend, and sharing a small apartment had been the only thing they could do. Lily knew that doing the course was a bit pointless, since she’d have to give it up when she married James, but she couldn’t very well just sit around and wait for a proposal.

They had a week to set up their flat and celebrate their graduation before they had to start their course. Lily took the first three days to visit with her family. She had missed them so much, realized, and she wished she could’ve gotten the whole summer to spend with them. But at least London was much closer to home, and she could apparate there in a pinch if she wanted to.

Her parents surprised her by announcing that they were getting a new couch for the sitting room, and gifting her the old one for her apartment. James insisted on getting her a proper bed (“Hey, I’ve got to sleep on this thing too!”) despite her protestations. Alice’s parents were a bit more upper class, and she was an only child, she they’d been happy to get a few things for them - mostly kitchenware, but a dining table and a little tv as well. Everything else they’d gotten second-hand as cheap as they could find, with the result being that their apartment looked like the most hideously mismatched collection of 50s decor imaginable. But it was home, at least none of them cared if some butterbeer spilled on the sofa.

Sirius came over for dinner one evening, and by the end of the night, he and Mary had gone their separate ways, just as she’d predicted. Mary didn’t seem all that cut up about it, and Lily wondered if it didn’t have something to do with Fabian. He’d become very snuggly with her, always seeking contact with his toes or his shoulder or his forehead whenever they sat down to watch the little tv. Not to mention he’d developed a habit of “forgetting” his clothes in his bedroom whenever he took a shower. Lily privately thought that it wouldn’t be too long before those two were sharing one room.

James was living in the Palace, his schedule jam packed with events and outings and meetings. He wanted the Royal Family to be more active, and to play a bigger part in the governing of the country, the way it had centuries before. People responded well to him, and he was a natural at all of it. Sometimes Lily thought it was a shame that he couldn’t get involved in politics, because he was a great diplomat. Most weekends, he stayed with her in the little flat, as long as he didn’t have an event in the morning, but occasionally she went to the Palace. The almost never went out though, since that inevitably ended up with them being photographed.

All in all, life after graduation seemed pretty good. They were all busy, and Lily felt exhausted all the time, but it was in a good way, and she felt as though she’d accomplished something at the end of every day. And yet there was a constant feeling that just as they began to settle into this new life, everything would change.

[judediangelo75]

His Troublemaker Part 1

Book: Ride or Die

Pairing: Logan x MC

Author’s Note: I wrote this instead of working on my college classes or sleeping. This might be a little series because Black!Logan doesn’t get a lot of love, and I’ll be the one to show it to him damn it. Look at him! PB did me wrong because they created a man that’s fine as hell and not make him real. The audacity... Anyways the name of the MC is Judith.  Sorry if it’s super short and crappy, it was a spur of the moment kind of thing. 

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~5 years later~

Logan’s POV

“Logan, my man!” Vic, the bartender, greeted me as I approached the bar. I gave him an easygoing smirk.

“What’s good, Vic. Been a minute,” I coolly said as I took a seat. I met Vic over 3 months ago when I first came down to Miami. After lying low for so long, I was thinking it was time to let us a bit and have some fun at a local bar. Vic was bar-tending that night, and you can say we became “fast friends”. I mentally chuckled at that small joke. Vic snorted.

“Been more than a minute, for awhile I was thinking you left Miami,” he said, cleaning a couple glass cups. I shrugged. I’m not looking to taking up residence here, but he doesn’t have to know that. The less people who get to know me, the better. That way they don’t have someone to miss when I’m gone.

“Nah man, I’ve just been chilling is all,” I reassured him. Which was partially true. Mainly looking out for cops in the meanwhile and finding some odd jobs here and there.

“Since you’re here, what can I get you to drink. It’s on the house, bro.” I contemplated the idea. I’m not looking to get myself drunk, but I’m not about to turn down some free drinks.

“A shot of vodka would be straight,” I told him.

“A shot of vodka coming right up!” Vic said, turning his back on me so he can prepare my drink.

Sighing softly to myself, I turned my attention to the crowd. Just a bunch of drunks grinding on each other in hopes of scoring someone for the night. I chuckled softly. Can’t say the same for myself. Not ever since her...

Judith Di Angelo. Who would’ve thought a girl like her could’ve easily flipped my world upsides with a simple look of those big dark brown eyes...

What was suppose to be just another job became something so much more. The night of Brent’s party was my first sign. Something just told me that she would be trouble for me. Problem was, I didn’t know how much. I knew I was starting to like her the night of the sideshow. That like was slowly changing into something else when she convinced me to stay with her during the school day, spending time with her in her world. I fell in love with her the night of her first major job with the crew, the same night I gave her a piece of myself in hopes it’ll protect her like it did me. Part of me toyed with the idea of being with her the night I helped her study for her history class. She was like a flame. So beautiful, but destructive. She enchanted me with her beauty, personality and heart, but I knew I shouldn’t get too close. She wasn’t mine to have, but I entertained the thought of us having a forever. I knew one day she would walk away from that world. That she would walk away from the crew. That she would walk away from me. But fuck me, I was willing to take that chance and be burned by her. When that fateful day came, while she walked away, she still stayed in my heart. It nearly killed me to watch her leave me behind, but at least she left me with some of the sweetest memories a troubled boy could asked for. She was nothing but trouble for me. I couldn’t help the smile that worked its way onto my lips. 

‘But she’ll always be my troublemaker...’ I thought wistfully. I closed my eyes and allowed the memory of her to take front and center in my mind. Her dark brown curls that would occasionally fall in front of her lovely face. Her dark brown eyes that will reflect her every emotion. Her full, kissable lips that would spread into the brightest smiles. Her perfect body wrapped in soft, chocolate skin. Her slightly husky voice that could soothe me to sleep... I couldn’t help but to bite my lip as the memories seem to flooding back all at once.

Her cute laugh when she hears something funny, with maybe that occasional snort. How her eyebrows would furrow in annoyance in Colt would tease her. The satisfied smirk would curve her lips when she says a sassy clapback. The way her eyes would narrow in a fierce glare when she was angry or determined. The way her lips would form a cute pout when she was thinking about something. How she would cover her flushed cheeks when Mona, Colt or I would shamelessly flirt with her. Her sharp tongue when she says something sarcastic. The way her face lights up when she completes a task or understands something new. The sound of her voice when she sings along to her playlist. The way her hips would sway to the beat of the music, especially if was Caribbean beat. The sweet smell of vanilla and chocolate that lingers on her soft skin. The feeling of her slender fingers in my black curls, massaging away the tension of a rough day. The feeling of her soft lips pressed against mine while her body molds against my own in a passionate embrace. Her breathless moans when I kissed her neck just the right way-

“Here you go, bro!” Vic spoke, slightly startling me out of my trance. Fuck. 

“Thanks,” I said, quickly downing the liquid. The burn that followed was immediate, but it didn’t bother me too much. 

“Another?” Vic smirked. I rolled my eyes.

“Sure, but I’m not looking to be shit-faced in the morning,” I warned him, side-eyeing him. He laughed. It’s not the first time I woke up with a skull cracking headache because of his ass.

“Alright, Logan. I got you.” As he prepared me another drink he asked me,

“Sooo... anybody caught your eye?” I rolled my eyes.

“Can you get your nose out of my damn love life?” I noticed his shoulder shook as he tried to conceal his snickers. Jackass.

“Ay, it don’t even have to love at first sight. Maybe just someone to invite to your bed for the night,” he shrugged, bringing me another drink. I took my time with this one.

“I think the fuck not. I’m not about to have some girl come after me because she wants more than one night,” I said. Truth is after I left L.A., I did try sleeping with other girls to keep my mind off the one I had to leave behind. But the next morning, she would be all I think about. After awhile, I just saw that it wasn’t worth it. 

“Fucking nun,” I heard Vic say. I gave him a nasty glare.

“Fuck off before I throw my drink in your eyes.” Vic laughed at my threat, holding up his hands.

“Alright, alright. At least have some fun while you here,” he told me. Eh, a night of dancing isn’t the worst thing I’ve done. Finishing off my drink, I made my way to the dance floor just as Decisions by Rotimi started to play. It was in that moment, I felt someone grab my hand. I looked down to see a young woman. Due to the shit lighting and how her dark curly hair covered her face, I couldn’t make out her features well. From the occasion party lights that flashed on her, I could make out a dark chocolate skin tone. An army green, low cut, off the shoulder long sleeved dress hugged her figure. Revealing a modest sized bust, a small waist, shapely hips, a nice ass, and a nice pair of thick thighs. She was somewhat tall, though that could be her Timberland high heel boots giving her that extra height. She got on her toes to whisper in my ear,

“May I have this dance, handsome?” I shivered as her breath lightly brushed against my ear. Her voice was low and smooth, borderline seductive. But there was something familiar about that voice that I couldn’t put my finger on...

I chose not to think about it too much and accept the offer of a dance. I grab her by the waist, smirking down at her.

“Of course, gorgeous,” I purred back. She chuckled and turned around, moving her hips to the music. Her hips ticked in time with the beat. I licked my lips and rest my hands on hips. Damn, she really knows how to move. I felt her roll her hips and suddenly push back on me when the beat dropped. I held her steady, grinding back on her. I felt a warm feeling beginning to settle in my chest. Her body seem to fit against mine perfectly, easily moving in time with me. She reached up, caressing my face and neck. My breath hitched. This is the exact position I was in with Judith at the sideshow all those years ago...

The woman must’ve heard me somehow and looked up at me.

“Everything alright?” Snap out of it, Logan! Forcing the memory back, I gave her an easygoing smile.

“I’m good, beautiful. A little lightheaded is all.” She chuckled at that. As much as I’m enjoying the dance, I much rather go outside. Too many people around for my liking. But for some odd reason, I wanted the woman to stay with me. Something about her is different, but vaguely familiar. Biting the bullet, I asked the woman if she wanted to join me. Surprisingly she smiled at me and followed me out. The cool sea breeze brushed against my face as we stepped outside. Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath before exhaling a soft sigh.

“You enjoy the beach,” I heard the woman ask me. Opening my eyes, I glance at her from the corner of my left eye. The outside lights of the club provided much better lighting. Her curly dark brown hair still covered her face from view. But I did notice the beginning of a colorful sleeve tattoo beginning on her shoulder, disappearing into the sleeve of her dress.

“Yeah, it reminds me of LA...” I said softly, looking out at the quiet beach. She hummed.

“LA is where you’re from?”

“Nope.” 

“Then where are you from?”

“Nowhere. Everywhere. Depends how you look at it.” The woman laughed. 

“Seems like you’re trying to be mysterious,” she teased, I could partially hear the smirk on her lips. I chuckled.

“Takes one to know,” I told her. 

“Oh?” I hummed in agreement. 

“You know, since we don’t know each other’s names. Heck, I couldn’t tell what you looked like inside of the club.” I admitted. She chuckled. 

“But yet, you called me gorgeous and beautiful while we were dancing,” she said, bumping me with her hip. I smirked at her.

“Still... I bet on my old sparkplug that you’re beautiful. That sweet voice and beautiful body... a beautiful face would complete the bill,” I told her, leaning closer to her. I picked up a sweet scent. Mmm... vanilla with chocolate? Before I could really process the smell, I heard her laugh,

“I haven’t heard a man tell me that in a long time...” she said. I raised an eyebrow at this.

“How long we’re talking here?” She hummed thoughtfully.

“Hmm... say about 5 years.” If I was drinking, I would’ve chocked.

“5 years?! Nah, you gotta be fucking with me,” I said, disbelievingly. The fuck? She must be around some people who need to get their eyes checked, cause there’s no way in hell dudes wouldn’t notice this woman. 

“Tch. Best believe it, love. I’ve been called sexy, hot, fine, pretty and on occasion cute throughout college, but beautiful would rarely come up,” she shrugged. I’m assuming these dudes were either A) playboys or B) friends. I’m gonna say both.

“The boy who called me beautiful ended up being my first kiss, my first love and my first lover,” she told me.

“What happened to him?”

“You can say we were a part of two different worlds. We were entangled into each others’ in the process. As fun as the times were that I had, it wasn’t meant to last. We couldn’t have it both ways... I couldn’t have it both ways...” she whispered. The longer I listened to this woman, the more I feel connected to her for some odd reason.

“I miss him everyday since the night he left, where he went is beyond me... I don’t think he realized he left behind something when he drove off. But I didn’t dare question it. I kept it with me everywhere I go, so in a way he’ll always be with me,” she said.

“What did he leave behind,” I asked, genuinely curious. She pulled off a necklace I didn’t notice up until now and held it in front of me. 

On a thick, silver chain was... a sparkplug. My eyes widen as I stared at the plug that dangled in my face. Was it...

The woman finally turned to face me. Familiar dark brown eyes locked with mine, a teasing glint dancing in them.

“He told me once he didn’t believe in luck. But on the night of a job we had to do, he said he was gonna rely on luck for that run. Sound familiar, Logan?”

“Judith...”