#i have no clue if this counts as a vent um.

[reddfishket]

wow augustine like me fr (crying sobbing)

[safertokiss]

Lost in Translation

A/N: Heyyyyy guys...remember when I used to post like every two weeks? Yeesh that’s awkward...but I’m backkkkk woooooooo party time! I was so excited that my discord buddies organized another fic swap because it was so much fun the first time. This time around I was chosen to write a doozy for the wonderful @writing-in-april and I have decided to bless you all with a beautiful subby boy. Sub Spencer lives in my head rent free, no cap. So sit back, relax and pretend it's you getting fricken railed. Peace out girl scouts;)

Pairing: SPENCER x READER

Category: SMUT hehe oh yeah and fluff

Word Count: 4.8k

ENJOY:)

~~~

MASTERLIST

~~~

For as long as she could remember, Y/n had always wanted to learn Russian.

So, naturally, when she found out that their newest case involved two lovers who also happened to be Russian criminals trying to escape the United States government, she simply couldn’t help but jump at the opportunity to become more involved in the investigation. 

It’s not that she’d never been on a stakeout for the Bureau before, in fact she’d probably been on so many at this point that she’d lost count. The only difference that this specific stakeout brought to her life was the fact that it was her first one to have ever been shared with Spencer Reid.

Her and the young doctor had lived in the same apartment building since her first day at the BAU, but their relationship pretty much began and ended at that. Of course they greeted each other whenever they passed in the halls of their building and ricocheted off of each other’s theories whenever necessary during their meetings in the round table room, but it would be a lie to label their relationship as anything other than casual acquaintances as well as amicable coworkers. 

She had never been able to fully get a grasp on the elusive Dr. Reid. The fact that he was already such an integral member of the F.B.I. at the ripe age of 25 astounded and, well to be honest, perplexed her. Not that she doubted his abilities or intelligence in any way, quite the opposite really. She admired how utterly brilliant he proved to be day in and day out, even with the shy exterior he presented himself with to the world. Well, shy was definitely more of an understatement. 

She had never met someone more socially awkward in her entire life, but with that being said, she couldn’t help but find it endearing and pretty dang adorable. Y/n constantly found herself enjoying his pathetic attempts at human interaction on a daily basis. From the nervous stutters to the out of this world hand gestures, there was much for her to dissect about the young doctor. And while she could openly admit that he was quite easy on the eyes, in a boyish-innocent kind of way, she had never really been able to see him in that sort of light.

If she thought his normal social interaction skills were entertaining to witness, his reactions to any of the conversations that took a more raunchy turn were to die for. The speed at which his features would ripen red like a tomato whenever anything of a sexual nature was brought up during cases was truly amazing, impressive even. However, unlike the rest of their team, she knew he wasn’t completely innocent. The walls in their apartment were as good as paper when it came to thickness, so it wasn’t that big surprise that the sounds created within them carried fairly well. 

Or at least that was what she had discovered after the first night she heard him touching himself just through her bedroom wall. 

Yes, it was less than ideal that their bedroom walls just happened to be adjacent to each other, but what could she do about it? It wasn’t as though she never sought out her own pleasure while alone in her apartment...although she would bet money that she was much better at withholding her noises. Instead, she learned to adapt to the sounds from next door and continue on with her life, having accepted that guys will in fact be dudes, no matter how innocent and meek they may appear.

When her boss had explained the nature of the assignment to them, there wasn’t anything of significance that had jumped out at her. It was all pretty standard instruction. They would wait, parked, in a government issued SUV overnight at a location close to the whereabouts of the criminals and simply translate their conversations using the mics that were planted prior. While Hotch knew that Y/n herself couldn’t understand Russian, it was common knowledge that the resident genius easily could transcribe the language.

And that was how she found herself cramped next to Spencer Reid in the stagnant vehicle, pen and paper in hand, patiently waiting for the translations to begin. 

It was almost completely silent inside the car, apart from the quiet whirring of the heat coming through the vents, and she could basically feel the nerves coming off of the man next to her in waves. That’s why she was completely thrown off her game when his timid voice was the first to break through the silence that had encompassed the space they inhabited together.

“So um Y/n..h-how have you been recently?”

She did her best to hide the small smirk that started to form on her face from the stuttering mess that spilled out of his mouth. She definitely didn’t want to make him feel even worse about himself so she decided to humour his adorable attempt at conversation with her...well...sort of.

“Oh ya know Reid, just counting the days until I get some action. How about you?” If she  thought he was sputtering nervously before, that was nothing compared to this treasure.

“Oh um well uh I-I mean...I don-I don’t...uh...w-what was the question a-again?”

This time she couldn’t stop the airy chuckle that escaped her lips as she leaned over and patted him gently on his thigh.

“Relax Reid, I’m just fucking around with you. Well for the most part...I certainly wouldn’t be opposed to some action, but that’s a whole can of worms I am not about to open during a stakeout”, Y/n laughed, not at all missing the steadily spreading blush that coated his sharp features.

“Yeah...no..yeah right of course...I t-totally knew you were just um fu-messing with me! Uh we should probably um r-review our assignment...you know just so we’re all s-set before we start.” How adorable.

“Aye-aye captain Reid. Ok so..”, she muttered while fiddling with the listening device to secure the right frequency. “...we just have to wait until they get back so we’re in range of their conversations. That’s when you’ll have your time to shine and prove yourself as the resident genius once again. And I’m sure that you’re aware that I don’t know a lick of the Russian language so I will be the best damn transcriber for you that the world has ever seen”, she finished with a smirk. 

Even Reid chuckled a bit at her words, the ever-present blush slowly creeping back upon his face and neck. 

“I’ll uh-I’ll hold you to that then.” Y/n had to admit she particularly liked to see the boy smiling, especially when it was the result of her own words. His innocence seemed to call out to her like a siren and she didn’t know how to feel about it.

“Oh-oh there they are! Ok get the pen and paper ready because as soon as they’re in range I’ll start translating.”

Getting themselves situated, they waited the few seconds it took for the couple to get close enough to the vicinity of the SUV for their conversations to begin to be broadcasted through their system.

“Как вы ду��аете, они идут по нашему следу?”

“Do you think they’re on our trail?”, Spencer easily understands, leaning slightly closer to her so his words were clearly heard.

“Ни за что. У этих глупых американцев нет шансов поймать нас.”

“No way. Those stupid Americans don’t stand a chance at catching us.”

At this point, the couple had already disappeared behind the door at the entrance of their current base, leaving only their words to give the closely listening agents much needed context clues.

“Я когда-нибудь говорил тебе, как сильно мне нравится твоя уверенность?”

“Have I ever told you how much I love your confidence?” 

Even Spencer let himself smile at the chuckle that left Y/n’s lips. “Awww how cute...they’re flirting with each other over mass murder. I strive for that kind of intimacy.”

“Да у тебя есть. Но почему бы тебе не показать мне, насколько тебе это нравится.”

“Yes, you have. But why don’t you show me just how much you love it.”

Uh oh, Y/n thought to herself. Not a second after the untimely thought permeated her brain, the sounds of wet lips sloppily colliding against each other filled the otherwise silent vehicle. After the few seconds of shock wore off, their heads whipped to face each other, eyes wide and mouths wide open. “Huh...well this was certainly an unexpected turn.”

“I uh um-uh well w-what do we do now?”, Tomato Boy nervously sputtered out over the chorus of moans and groans that were currently bouncing off the SUV’s walls. As unexpected as the present situation was, she was absolutely eating up his reaction to the crude sounds.

“Well, Hotch did say he wanted us to take down every single word that was shared between them so...I guess we’re just gonna have to keep moving forward with the translations. You can do that, can’t you Reid?”, she explained, not even attempting to hide the growing smirk on her face.

“Yeah! Yes! Mhmm I can do that, I c-can definitely do t-that.”, he gushed, trying to subtly clear his throat to clear the steadily growing tension in his body.

“Good to hear, Doc.”, she cheekily replied just as the raunchy sounds echoing through the system transitioned to different methods of communication, more legible ones.

“Ты была для меня такой хорошей девочкой. Я думаю, ты заслуживаешь награды.”

Quickly clearing his throat once more, he jumped back into action, with what Y/n noticed was considerably less confidence than before. “You’ve b-been such a good g-girl for me. I think you deserve a r-reward.” Spencer’s voice had noticeably dropped to a whisper by the end of the sentence, forcing Y/n to lean closer to be able to hear his translations, only magnifying the already present tension in the air. 

“Пожалуйста, папа, я сделаю что угодно.”

“P-please daddy.” His voice broke at the end igniting something deep inside Y/n’s being. “I’ll do anything.” In that moment she truly believed he would do anything, his own words or not, based on the obvious strain in his pants that her eyes glanced over, and also by the way his skin completely succumbed to goosebumps as her warm breath caressed the shell of his ear. She didn’t really know what the hell was happening, why her body was absolutely loving the way he gradually leaned into her’s, submitting all of his vulnerabilities into her hands. 

“Тебе это нравится, не так ли, маленькая шлюшка. Как член папы глубоко внутри тебя?”

She watched the way he inhaled a deep breath and released a high-pitched sigh before continuing on, subtly pressing her legs together to control the excitement thrumming through her body at his pathetic tone and mannerisms. 

“You like t-that don’t you, you little-uh-you little s-slut?” From their close proximity, she could clearly make out the speedy heartbeat clambering against his chest as he spoke. And if that was the case, he must’ve been able to feel hers as well. “Like daddy’s c-cock deep inside of y-you?” She could’ve sworn she saw his dick twitch slightly in his pants.

“Маленькая шлюшка уже придет за мной? Тогда умоляйте об этом. Бля, умоляю позволить тебе кончить.”

Y/n certainly did not miss the airy sigh that escaped his lips, watching as a bead of sweat dripped down his temple, confidently guessing it was not from the heat that had been coming through the vents.

“Is the little-little s-slut gonna come for me already? B-beg for it then. Fucking beg f-for me to let you c-come.” Spencer was speedily falling apart at the seams and she was loving it. More than loving it. She was craving it. Craving the little noises that he was trying to stop from escaping his lips. Craving the way he slightly bounced his leg in an attempt to control his arousal, which was futile because it had obviously already reached its full potential in the confines of his khaki slacks. 

“Пожалуйста, папа. Пожалуйста, позволь мне прийти. Мне это надо. Пожалуйста.”

Without even hearing the words translated back to her, she could hear the utter desperation in the girl’s voice. She no longer needed to understand the Russian language to be able to finish the translation, and as she sat there with her thighs tightly pressed together, she knew exactly what it meant.

“Please!” The utter need that was present in the original audio was somehow mirrored perfectly by the young doctor’s breathy voice, his eyes squeezed tightly shut, a prominent vein popping through the skin of his smooth forehead. “Please, p-please, please let me come. I n-need it. Please!”

“Приди за мной, детка.”

Deciding that she could regret her actions in the morning, Y/n quickly grabbed his face before he could translate, angling his head so she could whisper directly into his ear at the same time he spoke the last line of the night.

“Come for me baby.”, they both spoke at the exact same time.

Pulling away as fast as possible, she watched his clamped eyes shoot open as the most obnoxiously loud moan she had ever heard escaped the poor kid, his whole body spasming as a result. And using the large stain on the crotch of his pants as a guide, she was pretty certain she knew what had happened.

For the next few minutes there was silence in the SUV, apart from Spencer’s heavy breathing as he came down of course, leading them to believe the couple had fallen asleep after their...activities. Of course she wanted nothing more than to tease the trembling mess next to her, but she could already tell he was mortified beyond belief because of what happened so she didn’t want to make it any worse for him than it already was. 

After waiting a few extra minutes just to make sure that they had actually gone to sleep, the pair drove away from the stakeout location, Spencer not having said a word since his...big finish. As much as she loved watching him fall apart in front of her, she really didn’t want him to feel uncomfortable around her. 

“Well that was certainly an unexpected turn of events for the night, huh?”, she said, lightly chuckling with the intent of lightening his mood. She was very glad to see it had the intended effect.

“Uh y-yeah...you could definitely say that again.”, he mumbled with the ghost of a smile on his plump lips, though she could still clearly make out the blush coating his features.

“So hey, I know that you usually take the metro, but I’d be more than happy to give you a ride home after we drop the SUV off at the office if you want.”, she warmly smiled in his direction without taking her eyes completely off the road.

“Oh um..yeah that would be perfect. Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it Reid.”

~~~

The rest of the ride back to the office was pretty much spent in silence, but it was much more comfortable than it had been before, which was a huge relief. After dropping the keys to the SUV in the lock box inside, the two agents piled into Y/n’s car to go back home to their shared building. On their way back she considered just asking him if he wanted to ride with her everyday just to make his life a little easier in the long run.

Once they got to the parking lot and exited the vehicle, they began walking towards the entrance together, the awkward tension from before creeping back into the air around them. Soon enough, they found themselves standing in front of their respective doors, both unsure of how they were supposed to end the night’s interactions. After a few moments of painful silence and eye contact, Y/n was the first one to rip off the band-aid.

“So...I guess I’ll see you tomorrow Reid?” He seemed to be broken out of his trance by the sound of her voice, snapping back to attention.

“Huh? Oh yeah uh yes of course. S-see you tomorrow Y/n. Goodnight.” He scampered into his apartment before she could even get a chance to respond to his bidding.

“Goodnight.”, she whispered to no one other than herself as she unlocked her door and headed inside to shower quickly before diving into her soft sheets.

She was sitting up in her bed, book in hand, with only the small glow of her reading lamp illuminating her room when she heard it. Of course she knew immediately what they were, a talent that had developed and strengthened from living adjacent to a pretty much pubescent boy.

The tell-tale sound of moans and groans vibrating right through her wall.

She knew she probably shouldn’t be listening, something about a violation of privacy or whatever, but she just couldn’t help it. He sounded so desperate it was driving her insane. So much in fact that she was in the process of skimming her own hand downwards when she was interrupted by a certain something from the Doc’s room.

“Y/n! Oh god, please. Please.”

Oh. Oh.

Not even giving herself a second to consider her actions, she was up on her feet basically sprinting to his door, pajamas and all. Not even bothering with knocking, she noticed it was unlocked and let herself in, beelining for what she assumed was his bedroom by the increasing volume as she approached it. Standing in his doorframe, she was utterly mesmerized. There he was, sprawled across his sheets, completely bare with sweat coating his hair as he rapidly pumped his angry, red cock, her name tumbling from his lips like a chant.

“You’re so beautiful like this.” She smirked as she watched his head shoot up to where she was standing, his hand immediately stilling it’s rapid movements. Watching the panic spread on his face was intoxicating to her as she slowly approached his bed.

“Y/n! Oh my god, I’m so sorry! I uh-I didn’t um...” His words trailed off and his eyes widened as he watched her slowly begin removing her clothes as she moved closer to him. 

“Shhhhhh.” She managed to remove both her shirt and pajama pants in the short trip over to his bed and she had no intention of stopping there. Now standing directly in front of him, she let her eyes wander over his still frame completely, soaking in the amazement in his dark eyes and the slight tremble that was periodically rippling through his body. Maintaining eye contact with him the whole time, she reached behind her back and unclasped her bra, letting it pool on the floor next to her.

It was honestly shocking his eyes didn’t actually fall onto the floor with how far they bulged out of their sockets, a small moan leaving his mouth. 

She giggled at his enthusiasm before bringing her soft hands up to caress his face gently, his body shuddering at the contact. “Do you want me to keep going baby boy?” Taking a second to process the question that had left her lips, he slowly nodded while looking her in the eyes, his own full of awe. 

Happy with his answer, she reached for the edge of her panties before pushing them down to join the other pieces of clothing already inhabiting his floor. Spencer couldn’t speak. He could barely even breathe. Five minutes ago he had been jerking off to his neighbor, who also happened to be his coworker, and now said neighbor was crawling onto his bed, completely naked, with a wicked smirk on her face.

Straddling his lap, but making sure that there was no actual contact, she reached up to cup his face again, slowly rubbing circles into his defined cheekbone. “Is this ok baby boy? Is this what you want?”, she cooed. 

Spencer looked like he honestly might cry from the pure compassion laced within her words, but still found a way to nervously nod his head in affirmation of her questions. With a warm smile on her face, she leaned forward and placed a feather-light kiss on his lower jaw before continuing up the side of his face, basking in the small whimpers that fell from his pretty lips. Finally reaching his ear, she let her warm breath tease him before proceeding. 

“Do you want me to take control of you? Is that what you want sweet boy?” While the whine that immediately escaped him was answer enough, she pulled back searching for a more concrete answer to her question. “Hmmmm, you’d like that?” 

“Yes.”, he whispered, nodding his head anxiously. 

While he was answering she had leaned back towards his face, placing soft kisses all over. “As you wish baby boy.”, she whispered, changing course to attack his neck with her eager lips as soon the words left her mouth. Spencer gasped instantly and she couldn’t help but smirk against his pale flesh, increasing the pressure in which she was assaulting his neck.

Through the groans that spilled past his lips, she was able to make out his pathetic attempt at words, not slowing down her lips at all. “J-just make sure not to leave any m-marks. We’ll g-get in trouble at w-work.” Of course Spencer would be the only person on the planet to remember their office guidelines while getting his neck sucked like a vampire.

“No marks...that’ll be difficult. I want everyone to know just how thoroughly I fucked you.”

Feeling extremely satisfied by his enthusiastic response to her vulgar words, she slowly lowered herself down his body, pausing with her mouth right above his groin. Somehow the poor kid already looked completely fucked out and she hadn’t even done anything yet. Hearing him wince as she gently grasped and started stroking his cock, she knew this was gonna be fun.

Staring directly into her eyes, he watched the string of spit leave her mouth and drip directly onto his dick, eyes bulging at her bold actions, still in shock that any of this was actually happening. 

Entranced by the way his chest expanded rapidly as he watched her curiously, she leaned forward and licked the tip, his head falling back onto the pillow behind him. “I’m gonna suck your cock...but only because I want to see if you can not be a spaz about getting head from me.” Her words made Spencer whimper and she smirked as she took him fully into her mouth, soaking in his pretty noises. 

Y/n had only been going for a minute or two when she heard his groans get louder and felt him twitch in her mouth. Pulling off of him with a pop, she hummed at the sight of the completely wrecked boy in front of her, panting and shaking adorably. It wasn’t long before the perfect idea infiltrated her head, her body thrumming with anticipation and excitement.

“You’ve been such a good boy for me. I think you deserve a reward.”, she smirked, reciting the words that they had heard verbatim. Seemingly catching on to what she was pushing for, he responded accordingly.

“Please Y/n. I’ll do anything.”

She quirked her eyebrow in his direction questioningly, slowly grinding her dripping core against his achingly hard cock. “Anything, baby boy?”

Snapping his heated stare directly to her eyes, he cracked a beautiful smile. “Anything.”

She couldn’t control the grin that overtook her lips as she lowered herself down onto his erection, writhing in pleasure at the feel of him inside of her and the sound of his wanton moans. “Good boy.” 

Wanting to give Spencer time to fully adjust and control himself, she started her movements out slow, lifting herself up until only his tip remained inside before dropping down completely into his lap repeatedly. He was a moaning mess on the sheets below her, sweat coating his body along with goosebumps covering every visible expanse of his skin as he panted like a dog. He was so fucking pretty like this. 

Deciding enough was enough, she picked up the pace considerably, bouncing like a mad woman on his dick, while her sharp nails scratched down his creamy, pale chest in front of her, leaving angry, red streaks in their wake. Spencer had devolved into a blubbering mess underneath her and that lit her soul on fire.

“You like that don’t you, you little slut? Like your cock deep inside of me? Huh?” 

Y/n was pretty sure that he was short circuiting below her, his brain cutting off all control over his body as he spasmed uncontrollably and moaned for the entire fucking building to hear. Good, she thought. Let them hear how whipped he was for her. Even though it had only been a few minutes since she increased her speed, she could feel his cock starting to twitch violently inside of her and she knew he was close, really close.

“Is the little slut gonna come for me already?” All he could do was whimper in response, having to nod his head emphatically due to his loss of speech.

“Beg for it then. Fucking beg for me to let you come!” She was on fucking cloud nine right now, floating through the motions, as his whimpers increased in volume and speed. Mustering up all the strength he could, he spit out as many audible words as possible.

“Please! Please, please, please let me come! I need it! Please!” He was crying now, tears rapidly pouring from his eyes and spilling down his cheeks out of sheer desperation and need to release the tension built up within his body.

She was in awe of him. As she watched the tears pour down his face, she couldn’t help but whimper too. Desperately needing to finish, herself, she brought one hand down to make circles around her clit, while the other she brought up to wrap gently around his flushed throat, leaning over to whisper in his ear like she had earlier that night.

“Come for me, baby.”

She once again pulled back to witness his reactions to her hushed words, the outcome only more amazing than before. She watched as his eyes rolled back as far they could possibly go into his head as his mouth dropped open in pure ecstasy, high-pitched whines escaping his lips, his release shooting up into her like it had always belonged there. Maybe it had.

Watching him come undone below her, combined with her hand speedily rubbing circles on her clit, she was catapulted into the most amazing climax of her entire life, her body buzzing with excitement as she tightened around him and collapsed on his chest, weak as could be after that activity.

The pair laid silently, apart from the heaving breaths whirring through the room, still in shock over what had just transpired minutes before. Slowly shifting her eyes to the shivering boy below her, she saw he was caught in a trance, his eyes dazed, a soft grin on his lips. 

Breaking him from his stupor, she gently cupped his cheek with one hand as the other drew lazy circles on his blotchy chest. Rubbing the skin on his face lightly, she leaned forward and kissed his nose, making him scrunch it up and giggle as a result. “Such a sweet boy for me. Such a sweet, sweet boy.” Her words made him melt inside and words tumbled out of his own mouth before he could even think about stopping them.

“Вы красивы внутри и снаружи.”

She looked up at him in shock, before breaking out in giggles. “Did you just serenade me in Russian? How romantic.”, she giggled, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

He couldn’t seem to control his giggles either, a fact that warmed her heart. “Yes, I suppose I did.”

Smiling up at the adorable boy she just had to ask. “What does it mean?”

Y/n watched as his signature blush quickly coated his features once again as he looked down at her with a shy smile. “You are beautiful, inside and out.”

With the warmest grin she could muster, she leaned up and kissed his jaw once more before snuggling up against the young doctor who had melted her heart.

Tag List: @hopebaker @pastathighs @psychedellic-phase @gloryekaterina @sleepysnapesnake @racharr @etherealgubler @furiouspartyrebelhoagie @andiebeaword @liaabsurd @cielo1984 @starkeybaby @victomizedbyreginageorge @rainsong01 @moonlight-jukebox @gretaamyk @httpnxtt @rachelxwayne @goldnratio @cheyxminds @kricketc29 @cupcake525 @pinkdiamond1016 @slutforthegubes @shadyladyperfection @emilysallysmith @babblingbrookex @legendaryanimeaestheticclou @sunstspidey @ashwarren32 @pixels-impulse @eviewildflower @spencerreider @awkwardsadaa @dirty-pan-goblin @spencerspecifics

[lotusthekat]

I’ve felt this way before (so insecure)

Fandom: Steven Universe

Rating: T

Relationships: Steven & Lars (please do not ship them)

Characters: Steven Quartz Universe, Lars Barriga

Summary: There’s something wrong with him.

Word count: 2.200

AO3

A/N: basically me venting through Steven and also to show off my very personal headcanon that he might have BPD.

Please be aware of the trigger warnings below. Take care of yourself. <3

TRIGGER WARNINGS - non-graphic depictions of self-harm and blood, trauma, panic attack, anxiety and depression.

--

It was weird when Steven received Lars’ text, suggesting their usual baking session could take place at the former’s house instead. As if Steven hadn’t just trapped Lars and all their friends in an enclosing pink dome.

Well, Lars still hasn’t decided whether he’d go to space or not, but considering everyone else was definitely leaving, then Steven didn’t take it very well. But he wasn’t anywhere mature about it, either. It embarrasses him every night when he can’t sleep.

Even then, Steven couldn’t reject the invitation. If anything, he’s quite relieved that Lars wants to hang out with him despite the scene. But deep inside…

There’s something wrong with him.

Maybe since his new powers developed, as they’ve only gotten stronger and more dangerous with each day. They synchronize with his emotions. And that’s exactly the problem.

Steven’s emotions have been staggering.

He doesn’t want to be abandoned, but he doesn’t want to hold anyone back.

He’s angry at everyone, at himself and no one. He’s so angry, he’s prone to lashing out and cracking walls and windows far too often.

He’s ashamed of his shameful clinging to everyone around him, and as a result, he’s isolated himself. Then Steven becomes sad and tired, too, which is why he dropped Little Homeschool in the first place.

But in the next moment, he’ll be smiling like nothing happened. Because maybe he should be getting his life together. Maybe he should smile and let it go.

In reality, his mind is dangerous. Domes and walls will imprison him, while he tries to protect himself from something inevitable.

(Loneliness? Death? War? Everything? Nothing?)

It’s confusing and terrifying and Steven has no idea how to get through this. However, the half-gem can’t let anyone know, because what if they actually leave him when they realize how unstable he is? What if Pearl, Garnet and Amethyst leave the house forever? What if Connie never comes back to Beach City? What if Dad also moves out? What if Lars really goes to space?

It’s especially harder to hide now, with Lars right next to him, laughing at the stories Steven is telling him. Lars is having such a good time, and Steven is trying, because his friend will leave if the dome disaster happens again.

Steven has shoved his pink fists inside his pockets, only helping when Lars needs. It’s been tough keeping it all in. Keeping the hurt, enraged pink to himself. It aches for something, something he’s not at all sure.

The younger boy doesn’t want to ruin their time. He doesn’t want to push Lars away. He might go to space and never come back. Maybe he won’t even want Steven to visit him.

Be quiet.

Think of love.

Flexibility, love and trust.

It’s okay.

It’s okay.

It’s not.

Shut up.

It’s not!

“… uh, Steven?”

The sixteen-year-old boys looks at his friend as if he were away to space again.

“Oh, hi,” Steven laughs nervously.

“You, um. You wanna take a break? You look a little—”

“T-That’d be great!” Steven blurts out. “I gotta go to the bathroom real quick, don’t disappear while I’m gone!” He laughs forcibly as he runs to the small door and locks himself inside before Lars notices.

He lets out the shakiest breath.

Why is this happening?

Why can’t he be okay?

He…

He needs to do something.

Steven inhales deeply, very deeply, trying to swallow the threatening tears. Not now. Not now.

It’s useless.

He’s useless.

…

He needs to do it.

Steven hates it,

but there’s nothing else he can do.

The boy takes a look at himself before opening the mirror cabinet. He’s crying despite telling himself no, and he’s glowing pink like never before.

This is the only way, then.

Beside the Diamond Aura bottles lie the small, subtle razor blades, now shining bright with his pink reflection.

Steven already shudders just by touching the blades, sharp in his fingers.

His hands are trembling badly, for that matter.

He hates, hates doing this.

But if the pink won’t comply, then he has no choice.

It’ll be quick, though.

He’ll be fine.

…

The moment the blades are close, his thoughts scream.

They cry like lost souls haunting him, the same ones that have stalked him for all these years.

Steven is angry.

Get out!

GET OUT!

…

Then there are crimson flames in his pink arms, burning like lava and poison.

It makes him sick.

He’s gonna puke.

The blades fall off his hands.

Steven will never be used to this.

Even if they’ll be gone with one healing tear…

The red hurts.

Steven’s arms wrap around himself, maybe as a way of comfort. Maybe so he doesn’t throw up and panic.

His own pathetic hug is all he has, soothing the painful but quiet sobs.

However, the world outside comes right back, knocking at his door.

“Steven?”

Gasping, the boy takes the stained razor blades off the floor and put them back in the cabinet.

“Just a second!” He exclaims.

“I- I heard you crying, is everything-?”

“Yep, everything’s fine!”

Lars soon sounds frustrated, “Dude, you’ve been weird all day, why won’t you talk to me?”

Oh no, no, no

“Wait, please!” Steven begs, please don’t be mad, don’t leave me, please—

He quickly kisses both of his arms, the crimson stains gone, and he cleans the remainders from his mouth.

Steven doesn’t waste time to open the door and force a smile onto his face.

“I’m right here!” He yells. “I’m completely fine!”

Lars opens his mouth, only for his eyes to go horribly wide.

“… Lars?”

“St- Steven, there’s blood all over your jacket!”

Indeed, his pink jacket is stained where he’d been hugging.

Something cracks.

(His mask? His lies?)

“It- I-It was an accident! I w-was… I…”

What sort of accident?

What could explain it?

“I…” tears form in the corner of his growing eyes, his skin glowing pink again. “I…”

Lars’ eyes pale. “Steven…”

Despite the seriousness of the situation, the younger boy laughs.

“You must think I’m crazy, right?” Steven asks, his smile fading to nothing. “Maybe I am. Nothing is making sense anymore,” he sniffs and looks away, avoiding the horrified stare. “You should probably leave, Lars. I-I don’t want to hold you back again. I’m sorry.”

The lonely silence meets him. It’s all so quiet, Lars might not even be there anymore. It’s probably for the best.

Regardless, steps come forward and Steven shivers.

Soft yet calloused hands carefully reach his arms, pulling up his sleeves.

“… are your arms okay?” The question is quiet. Too quiet. But not angry.

Steven gulps either way, nodding, “I-I healed them. It’s okay.”

“… okay.”

Thumbs rub where the crimson once was. They soon go for his shaking hands, squeezing both with care.

Lars doesn’t look angry at all.

At least not to the eye.

Steven doesn’t know if that’s a good thing, unsure what his friend is feeling.

Lars takes a deep breath – and Steven shivers again, expecting to get yelled at – only for him to give him a simple command.

“Turn around, will you?”

“Um- okay?” He does as he’s told and wonders what this is about, when…

Lars removes the jacket for him, leaving Steven with his black t-shirt exposed.

“We should probably wash this, right?” Lars suggests, not a hint of annoyance noted. “Where’s your washing machine again?”

“O-Oh, it’s…” Steven gulps, “it’s outside. We’d have to take the warp pad there.”

“Alright.”

Lars walks to the crystal platform inside the house, expecting Steven to come with. In spite of all his confusion, the half-gem takes them to the giant hand statue that holds the machine and the clothes that are yet to be dried.

Steven hasn’t been here with someone else in a long time, to be fair. He’s had good times here. But bad ones too.

Lars does all the work, even if Steven insists he shouldn’t. The older boy doesn’t complain.

The stained pink jacket is then inside the repetitive, circled movement inside, the crimson clues to be gone in minutes. Lars doesn’t actually question how the washing machine works, which is quite unlike his nature.

Steven is scared of questioning it, afraid Lars might actually be mad at him. Maybe he’s planning to leave soon. He must be doing all of this out of obligation, even though he shouldn’t.

Lars is waiting in front of the machine, arms crossed. They don’t share any words.

Steven has… so much to say, and yet…

He’s so humiliated.

He sits at the corner of the giant hand, holding his own hands.

“Lars…” Steven dares let out, “are you mad at me?”

The seconds that follow terrify him.

“No,” Lars replies simply, approaching him, “of course not.”

“Why won’t you say anything, then?” Steven insists, loud. “W-Why are you still here?” He burns pink, “I thought you wouldn’t want to see me again after everything I’ve done!”

He dries his own tears, ultimately hiding his face because it’s useless.

Lars is sitting next to him, but not too close.

“Do you want me to leave?” The older teen wonders.

Steven overthinks.

“… no.”

“I thought so.”

Steven vaguely looks at his friend. “D-Do you want to, though?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re my friend, Steven. And something has been wrong for a long time now,”—Lars looks back, sympathetic —“hasn’t it?”

The sixteen-year-old gazes at him, unable to give a verbal response.

Lars gets it.

“Have you…” he hesitates, “have you hurt yourself before?”

Steven clutches his arms.

“Yeah.”

“Does it make you feel better?”

Steven ponders in the setting, giant sun watching them from the horizon.

“I don’t know,” he mutters.

Lars quietly expects him to continue.

“I hate doing it, actually,” Steven admits, “I always feel sick every time I do it. But for some reason, I… I want to do it again, again, and again, because… it’s all I can do.”

He stares at his arm, as if it’s red still.

“I know it’s wrong, but… it’s all I have right now. It’s the only way I have of letting everything out, without hurting anyone else. I can’t let people know how much of a mess I am, or else—” he sniffs, “they’re going to leave me. They’re going to realize I’m a fraud. T-That I’m- I’m not as good as everyone thinks I am.”

Steven squeezes his arm, quite too tight.

Lars puts his hand onto his, silently asking him to stop.

He does.

“So, no one else knows about this?” Lars asks.

Steven shakes his head.

“I didn’t want you to find out.”

Lars doesn’t take his hand away. In fact, he’s rubbing Steven’s arm again. The latter doesn’t want to say it, but it’s quite comforting.

“I’m glad I do, though,” the space pirate says. “I mean, of course I’m upset you’re hurt… but I could never leave you for feeling that way, buddy.”

Steven looks up in hope. “Really?”

“Really. Steven”— Lars sighs —“you know how much you mean to me, right?”

The younger boy wants to say yes, but…

“Well, maybe I don’t show it that much,” Lars speaks, taking his silence for an answer. “Maybe I should’ve realized why you were so upset at the Graduation, and I’m sorry I didn’t. But Steven… you’ve changed my life so much that I could never thank you enough. I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you. And even then, you didn’t need to prove me anything. I always knew you were amazing, as much of a prick I was back then.”

Steven is…

He’d never imagine Lars felt this way.

“What I mean is…” the taller boy’s eyes are also shining with water. “I love you, Steven. I do.” Lars is smiling with the most fondness Steven has ever seen. “And I love every part of you, even the ones you want to hide.” This time, he’s pulling Steven close with an arm wrapped around the latter’s shoulders. “I know it’ll take a while for you to remember this, but that’s okay. I’ll be here to remind you every time you need.”

“Lars…”

Steven has absolutely no idea what he could say.

I love you, too.

I’m sorry.

For what?

I don’t know.

Lars doesn’t expect him to speak, though.

He’s then squeezing Steven in a half hug.

“Can you promise me something?” Lars wonders. “Will you tell me when you want to hurt yourself again?”

Steven hesitates.

“I… I-I’ll try.”

“Please do. You don’t deserve to hurt, pal.”

Steven tries to hold in, but he buries himself in the other’s chest, like a child haunted by a nightmare. Lars retributes the hug and even rocks him a little side to side.

“I-I’m… I’m glad you’re here, Lars,” Steven sobs.

“Yeah, me too.” Lars puts a hand on the back of his head, softening his messy curls.

The now clean jacket is set to wait out in the night. The boys end up ordering pizza, pushing the baking session for another day. They resort to the champignon pizza Steven has gotten fond of as of late.

At least tonight, he sleeps at ease.

[thewritewolf]

Two For Two Chapter 11: Comfort

Dragonbug explains the potions to Snake Noir.

@ladynoirjuly2020

Enjoy!

First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Read on Ao3

The exhaustion stuck around for at least the next few weeks, leading to them sitting on top of one of the bell towers of a cathedral. Even as the time came for their patrol to start, they just couldn’t muster the drive to actually start it. With nothing else to do and not wanting to go home just yet, they started to talk.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said earlier this month,” Dragonbug began. There was some hesitancy in her voice that Snake Noir picked up on.

A gust of wind blew through, this one cutting to the bone with its chill. A shiver ran down her spine, which he decided he wouldn’t stand for. He scooted over to her side and pressed their sides close together. She relaxed immediately and leaned towards him, a pleased sigh escaping her lips.

When it became clear she wasn’t going to continue, he prompted, “So you’ve been thinking…?”

“Oh right! Sorry.” She shook her head. “The way I see it, I’m the Guardian now, right? So I make the rules. Which means, if I want to vent about some of this Guardian stuff…”

His cat ears perked up and he smiled. “Well, I am an amazing listener…”

“At least you’ve got that going for you.” She poked his nose. “Ugh, where to start?”

“How about the potions?”

“Curious kitten, aren’t you?”

“It's nice to know what my options are.”

“Yeah I get that. Um… let’s see.” She leaned her head back and looked up at the black and cloudless sky above. “You already know about the blue, green, and purple ones, right?”

“Mhm.” He counted them off on a clawed hand. “Blue is chilly, green is splashy, purple is sneaky.”

Dragonbug giggled. “That’s a way of putting it. So that leaves orange, yellow, pink, and red.”

“I’m going to guess red is for fire?”

“You’ve got it spot on,” she said with a smile at her own joke. “Do you want to guess what yellow does?”

“Um… electricity?”

Dragonbug shook her head. “Remember, these were made by monks hundreds of years ago, based in Tibet. They wouldn’t make power ups to fight things they’d never really encountered before.”

“Good point.” Snake Noir thought about it for a little while before shrugging. “No clue then. Maybe something to do with the sky or the sun?”

“Close!” She gave him an impressed look. “It gives the power of flight. Part of that is being able to breath in places without much air, so it could probably double for space stuff.”

“That’s cool, but I’m going to go ahead and hope that we don’t get launched into space. Yellow potion or not.”

“Well, it’s already happened before.” She shrugged. “It could definitely happen again.”

Snake Noir tilted his head back and groaned.

“Hey, at least this time we’ve got the potions. Speaking of, I don’t think you’ll be able to guess the other two, but you can try.” She watched as he snapped into a thinking position. “The last two are orange and pink, remember.”

“How about… the ability to get a really bad tan for orange, and… hm… Tibetan… climbing mountains really good for pink?”

Dragonbug laughed. “Not even close, chaton.”

“So what are they then?”

“Orange is like…” Her eyes stared at the horizon and she blew out a breath as she tried to find the right words. “It’s like, it increases the amount of magic you can hold. So you get more uses of your power and the timer lasts a lot longer.”

He whistled appreciatively. “That sounds super helpful.”

“Yeah, but I’d rather we master what we’ve got so far before we try to use that.” She rested her chin on her hand, propped up on her lap. “We’re already struggling to handle the magic we already have.”

“I guess that makes sense,” he said with a sigh as he closed the door on the idea of multiple cataclysms. “Wait, so how many are ‘more uses’?”

“I’m… not super sure? We’d at least have three, but some of the texts say like five or more. I think it depends on how long you’ve had your miraculous, which makes your bond with it stronger.”

“Well, we’ve had ours for like a year and a half. What does that mean for us?”

“There isn’t a chart, chaton. We’d at least have three - maybe more.”

“Still, that’s pretty good, even if we only get the minimum.”

“Exactly what I was thinking.” She clapped her hands once. “Anyway! All that leaves is pink. I’m not super sure on how its spelled but its supposed to grant the powers of true sight. Or maybe truesight, one word.”

“And that means…?”

Dragonbug counted on her fingers. “Enhanced senses-

“Got that.”

“-Darkvision-”

“That too.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “...And the ability to see through illusions.”

“Ooo! Something I don’t have!”

“Not all of the miraculous get better vision and stuff right from the start, Chat.”

“Yeah, not everyone is as awesome as I am,” he replied, flexing.

She rolled her eyes. “Well, it doesn’t matter much anyway because that one is the hardest to make.” She drew her knees up to her chest. “Well, they’ll all be hard to make pretty soon, but the pink potion especially.”

He tilted his head at her. “What do you mean? Why are they going to be harder to make?”

“The potions require specific ingredients and I don’t know where Master Fu got his. I don’t have a huge supply left of them, so I’ll run out eventually. Then poof!” She opened her hands dramatically. “No more potions.”

“Well, it’s like you said. Those potions were made by some guys a long time ago and way far away. I bet with some experimenting you could come up with some half-decent replacements.”

“Maybe…”

“Hey, it’s worth a shot, right? Who knows! Maybe you’ll even discover something new.”

[callboxkat]

A Little Nightmare (part 6)

Author’s note: My puppy was kind enough to let me write today! Sorry about the wait, and thank you all for your patience. :) I hope you enjoy, and more importantly, that you’re all staying safe. <3

Warnings: fear, death mention, mentions of being eaten, illness and injury, referenced drowning, pressuring people into things, food mention, censored swearing, arguing, rat/mouse mention, a dog

Word count: 3530

Infinitesimal Masterpost!

...

Joan opened up the cabinet beside the microwave, their eyes scanning its contents, searching for the small red and black coffee tin that should have been inside. They frowned, moving aside a few spice canisters. The tin wasn’t there, as far as they could tell. Where was it?

They stepped back, eyebrows drawing together, and opened the neighboring cabinet door. Perhaps they had misremembered where they had last put the coffee? They didn’t drink it much, so that was a reasonable possibility. They hoped they weren’t out. It had been Nunya’s one request, the one thing she claimed might make her forgive them for their blunder with the dog.

That had been pretty dumb of them, Joan thought, taking their eyes off of Marco long enough for him to get to Nunya’s door. They should have realized that she would be nervous about a dog sniffing around, even if he couldn’t get into the room.

They sighed, moving on to the next cabinet.

…

With Joan gone, Remy turned back to her plate of food. She picked up the strawberry and took a bite, closing her eyes with a soft, pleased hum at the sweet, juicy taste. She very much liked the strawberries—she didn’t exactly get them often, surprise surprise, given that most humans she’d encountered didn’t just leave fresh fruit lying around for littles to find. Not that she was going to show Joan just how glad she was to have them, but she would take the fruit.

Perks of almost dying and being caught by a human, she supposed.

She paused to wipe the juice off of her chin, glanced over at the rest of the strawberries on the plate, and decided she didn’t have to try to make this one last. She finished off that strawberry, leaves and all (it was small, stop judging her) and reached for another. She dragged it towards her, wincing at the strain on her chest, and took a bite. She slowed down a bit at this point, not wanting to get full too fast. She wanted to savor it, and actually taste her food. Who knew when the next time she’d get strawberries could be?

Remy was about a quarter of the way finished with the berry when the bedroom door opened, causing her to jump. She turned around to see Joan poking their head in the door with a guilty expression. She squinted, wondering what this was about.

“Um… hey. I’m sorry, but turns out I don’t have any coffee after all. I must have run out and forgot. I can get some, though, if you want? It shouldn’t take long.”

Remy looked at them for a moment, searching, then slowly nodded. Late coffee was better than no coffee, obviously, assuming that that was really what Joan was going to do.

“Maybe you can take a nap while I’m gone? Marco’ll be in my room the whole time.”

Remy’s expression soured at the mention of the dog. Joan seemed to be waiting for an answer, though, so she just said, “Yeah. Maybe.”

Joan nodded, glancing away, then retreated. The door closed with a soft click.

Once she was sure they were gone, Remy went back to her food, still ignoring the peanuts and crackers that Joan had brought her along with the strawberries. She had those all the time, at least comparatively. While she was accustomed to often having trouble finding any kind of food, if she had options, she was going with the fruit, thanks.

She finished about half of the second strawberry, then got to her feet, having no plans to take a nap like the human had suggested. Sure, she was still tired, her chest throbbed, her headache had only slightly let up, and her nose was starting to feel stuffy; but now would be a good time to go exploring again, with less chance of the human interrupting. There might be something she had missed the night before.

She made herself a mental map of the room, taking note of any potential escape routes: outlet covers, the vent cover that she might be able to squeeze through, the door, maybe the window; as well as hiding spots: the nightstand, the bed, the closet, and the space behind the door when it was open. She wished it wasn’t such a plain room. More hiding spots would be nice.

Still no red flags that she could find. In this room, anyway. At one point, she heard the tapping of claws in the neighboring room as the dog walked around. That was a pretty big red flag, especially since she had no guarantees that it really couldn’t get to her. But mostly, she focused on exploring this room.

Just when she was starting to consider calling it quits, so that she’d be back in the blanket when Joan returned, she found it.

A seam, so perfectly fitted that she nearly missed it, in the wall under the bed. Remy brushed her fingers along it, frowning, discovering that it made a door-like shape. A distinctly her-sized door-like shape.

She hesitated, then shook her head. Why should she be nervous? What did she expect to find inside, a booby trap like some Indiana Jones movie? Ridiculous. The worst thing she was likely to find was, like, a giant rat. Or maybe a skeleton.

Remy’s mouth thinned.

But probably nothing. Nothing was the most likely answer.

With that thought, she hooked her fingertips in the seam and pulled. It took her some effort, probably because it was stuck and definitely not because she was so weak; but then it gave, and the door swung open. It was cleverly only partially cut on one side so as to allow the movement but not let the door fall open entirely. She’d luckily pulled on the correct side. It would have been embarrassing, to be standing there tugging on the wrong side of the door for who knew how long.

Remy glanced behind her, towards the room at large, as if to make sure Joan hadn’t returned, then turned back to her find.

“Hello?” she awkwardly whisper-called, feeling very stupid but also apprehensive. “Is, uh, is there anybody in there?”

She didn’t get an answer, unsurprisingly—even if there really were other littles in the house, they could be practically anywhere, and she was unwilling to raise her voice. She poked her head in the wall, hoping for some clues.

The tunnel within clearly hadn’t been used in some time, she realized with a sinking heart, probably at least a year if not more. There was dust on the floor, and as her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she even saw a couple of dead insects lying on the ground about a foot down the tunnel.

Remy swallowed and stepped back.

So… no littles, then. At least, no littles recently. Perhaps they had moved out because of the dog. That would certainly make sense.

Of course, it would also make sense that they had been eaten by the dog, or killed by Joan or some other human, or had had some other horrible thing befall them; but Remy was trying to think positively, here.

She stepped back, taking a breath, and shut the door. It blended nearly seamlessly with the wall once more.

Did she want to stay, after finding this? What if something had happened to those littles, and it had had to do with Joan? What if this was her one warning to get out while she could?

She put one arm around herself and rubbed her sore head with the other hand. She swore, conflicted.

If she stayed, she would be taking the risk that this really was a clue to some horrible thing that Joan was hiding. But if she left, she would definitely be putting her life at risk, when there might well be a perfectly reasonable and non-nefarious explanation for there to be abandoned tunnels in the walls.

She debated for a long moment, and eventually, she decided to continue to stay, for now. Leaving posed a big risk, especially since she wouldn’t even be able to get back to her supplies and still had nowhere to call home, not to mention her… current situation.

She made her way back  to the blanket, glancing several times towards the hidden door along the way. She sat down there, hugged the baggie of peas to her chest, and waited.

Nearly two hours had passed in total, judging by the movement of the shadows in the room, by the time Joan returned. Remy was starting to get antsy. She was promised coffee, and she was not known for being patient. Granted, she was barely known at all, but no one who did know her would call her patient.

She turned as soon as she heard the knock on the door, opening her mouth to ask where exactly they had been for so long; but when they actually came in, she broke off, her mouth beginning to water.

She recognized the rich aroma as soon as the door opened,  tickling her nose tantalizingly from across the room. She sat up, unable to help the thrum of anticipation within her.

Joan poked their head in, smiling and carrying a tray laden with goodies that Remy’s eyes immediately zeroed in on. “I’m back!” they greeted, “and I’ve got something for you.”

Remy pushed off the baggie of frozen peas—well, they weren’t quite frozen anymore—as Joan approached. The human stopped about a foot away and went to set down the array, then paused. They picked up the shot glass filled with dark brown liquid and took a sip from it, probably to demonstrate that it was safe. Remy just watched, shifting where she sat like a kid trying to contain her excitement.

Joan lowered themself to the floor and set down the tray in front of her, then scooted back a couple of feet to give her space. The tray they left behind was laden with a couple of sugar cubes, two shot glasses, several little bowls made of tin foil, plus some extra unshaped foil, and even what looked like a small cookie. The dark brown liquid in the first shot glass was obviously the coffee, while the other must have been the milk. Almond milk, she remembered Joan mentioning it was. She didn’t know what exactly that was—almonds were a nut, weren’t they?—but she didn’t ask. She had her coffee, finally. That was all she cared about.

A bit of steam curled lazily from the first shot glass. Hot coffee? She knew coffee was usually supposed to be served hot, or at least, not room temperature; but she’d never actually had hot coffee before. She glanced up at Joan, then slowly approached. She paused, then poked one finger into the coffee to test the temperature. It didn’t seem too hot, so she took a tiny sip. It was bitter, but in a familiar, pleasant way; and it warmed her insides. She could tell it was freshly made, too, which was not exactly usual for her caffeinated treats.

“You like it?” Joan asked, seeming hesitant.

“Hmm,” Remy hummed, too pleased to bother with a sarcastic comment. She looked at the rest of the tray’s contents, then picked up one of the clumsily folded aluminum foil cups and used it to scoop out some more of the coffee, filling it about three quarters of the way. After a pause, she filled the rest up with almond milk. She took a sip, belatedly realizing that she hadn’t seen Joan try the milk. But it seemed okay.

Coffee and milk. Not bad, actually.

She finished her first cup and went to refill it. She had already decided that hot coffee was vastly superior to the room temperature kind. This must have been what “good coffee” meant. She felt briefly gratified that she had insisted upon the good kind.

Meanwhile, Joan was watching, but totally pretending not to be.

She glanced over at them as she measured out the coffee, milk, and sugar ratio she wanted to try next. “What took you so long, anyway, girl?” Don’t get her wrong—she sure as heck wasn’t complaining about the extra investigation time, since it would have been rather… ah, awkward to explain what she was doing if they’d walked in in the middle of it; but she had thought that humans were faster than that at getting around. Her tone was slightly accusatory, suspicious about what they could have been up to, but it was mellowed slightly by her satisfaction at finally getting her caffeinated nectar of the gods. A bit of her nerves might have shown in her voice, which sucked; but Joan, thankfully, either didn’t notice or pretended not to.

“Oh—sorry, I had to stop upstairs for a minute. One of my tenants emailed about a leaky faucet. I had to take care of it. And then I had some trouble figuring out how to make some cups for you….”

“…Tenants?” Remy echoed, not recognizing the word.

“Yeah. I own the building we’re in. I rent most of it to other people, they pay me for the space, and I take care of the building.”

Remy blinked. So, this wasn’t just a house, after all—it was an apartment building. Now that she paid attention, she thought she could hear something above them, maybe someone walking around, and a television or something playing. She hadn’t noticed before. Something that she felt was more than justified in her case.

More importantly, though…. “Are you going to try to make me “pay” too?” she asked suspiciously. “For, like, taking up space here, or whatever?” Maybe that explained the empty tunnels…. The littles hadn’t been able to pay whatever Joan’s price was. And now the human was trying to trick her into taking their place.

“What? No—no, that’s a different thing. You don’t owe me anything. I promise.” They frowned, seeming upset.

“Hm.” Remy would hold them to that promise.

Joan stayed silent until Remy went back for her third cup.

“You know,” they ventured quietly, making her pause, “I really do think you’d like Marco if you met him.”

Remy sent them a sideways glance, scooping the coffee into her cup. Yeah, I’m sure I’d have a great time getting eaten by that mutt.

“He’s really sweet,” they continued. “Not threatening at all.”

Remy crumbled a few grains of sugar off of one of the cubes and sprinkled them in. Once they dissolved, she took a small sip, glancing once in Joan’s direction, skeptical of their claims. She took another sip of coffee and firmly directed her small, satisfied look at the cup. If only Joan wasn’t here, annoying her.

“Maybe if you gave him a chance, you’d see you don’t have to be scared.”

Remy still pretended not to hear them, focused on her coffee.

Joan sighed.

Remy tapped her fingers on the sides of the cup. “How long have you had that thing, anyway?”

“What?”

“The dog.”

“Oh. About two years now.”

She took a contemplative sip of her drink. That timeline did check out with how long the tunnel appeared to have been empty.  So, the dog probably had had something to do with it. Which wasn’t exactly a surprise, but it was nice to have her suspicions confirmed.

“And he’s never, like, caught anything, right?”

Joan had perked up, apparently thinking she was considering their offer. “No, never. I was actually kind of afraid he might be vision impaired or something when I first got him, he was so chill around birds and stuff. Turns out he’s just like that, though.”

“And what about… uh, mice? Or, like, rats, I guess.”

Joan’s eyes shifted to her tail, which twitched self-consciously. “No, nothing like that.”

“Have you ever even had mice around him? How would you know if you’ve never had mice?”

Joan looked sheepish. “Well… we used to have mice, I think. I put out some traps, but I never caught any. I think they’re gone, now, though. I haven’t seen any sign of them in a few years.”

Remy mulled that answer over for a moment, and the tone in which it was said. They hadn’t avoided the question, and it sure didn’t seem like they were hiding anything in it. She didn’t exactly like that they’d put out mouse traps to try to catch littles, but it seemed that they didn’t know that they weren’t actually mice. The answer still didn’t tell her what she needed to know, however, and it was always possible she was missing something. Focusing was not her strong suit at the moment, and she’d only known this person for a day—not to mention that she hadn’t ever even spoken to a human before now, and hadn’t planned to. She was no psychic, or expert on how to read humans. She was just doing her best.

The pause was lengthening, so Joan spoke up. “He really is very sweet. He’s harmless.” They seemed to know they were pushing it, but they still asked, “Would it really so bad, to just see him, so you could see for yourself?”

Remy took a long sip of coffee. She didn’t want Joan getting ahead of themself just because she was asking questions.  “Nah, girl. Pass.”

…

Joan wilted a bit at her flat, negative response, but they tried not to be too disappointed. They tried to put themself in her shoes (or boots, technically). They tried to picture what it would be like to face a dog like Marco at her size. They supposed they might be a bit intimidated by a corgi the size of a house, even if he was a sweetheart. Especially if they hadn’t known that he was a sweetheart. Corgi or not. Maybe it was a bit cruel of them, trying to push her into this, despite how much they felt that it would put her at ease to know what kind of dog was “lurking” outside.

They dropped the topic for the time being, watching her enjoy her coffee. As she went back for a fourth and then fifth cup, Joan started to wonder where she was putting it all. Did she have a coffee-loving black hole for a stomach? Perhaps it was good that they’d gotten her decaf coffee. They’d debated for a while at the store, wondering if caffeine was the best idea for someone in her condition. They’d also grabbed some regular coffee, too, just in case; but they’d made her decaf for now. If she somehow ended up staying longer and wanted regular coffee, they had it.

“So...” Nunya said, breaking Joan out of their thoughts, “what happens when your absolutely flawless plan fails?”

Oh. She just wanted to criticize them some more.

“It’s not like he’ll be near you. I’ll have him on a short leash.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah,” they said. “I told you. I won’t let him near you if you don’t want him to be. Definitely not until you’re comfortable with it. And if that never happens, it never does.”

“Uh-huh. Girl, you said you want me to meet him. How do you meet someone and not get close to them?”

“Just see him, really. You don’t even know what he looks like. Would it really hurt just to see him?” From the sound of it, Nunya had had a very difficult time sleeping the night before, imagining their enormous, vicious, bloodthirsty dog coming after her. Seeing the fluffy, adorably harmless reality might reassure her and make her stay that much easier. She wasn’t going to get better if she didn’t feel safe enough to rest.

…

Remy frowned down at her cup. Part of the reason she was drinking so much was so that the caffeine would perk her up and make it easier to think clearly, but it didn’t seem to be working. Her headache and head fog were still overpowering. She stifled a cough, sniffling, and put the cup down.

Joan was still waiting for her answer. Well, she’d already answered, like, a bunch of times, even if most of them hadn’t technically been verbal; and it shouldn’t have taken a genius to get the hint. But that wasn’t good enough for them, apparently.

She should have just reiterated a flat “hell f*cking no” and clammed up on the topic, but she paused.

She thought of the empty tunnels again.

A part of her felt curious—okay, maybe obligated was a better word—to find out what had happened to their builders. But was it even worth the risk, when, if Joan was to be trusted, she was leaving the next afternoon?

“Maybe you can think on it?” Joan asked.

Remy closed her eyes, resigned. “Fine,” she huffed.

“Fine… you’ll think about it?”

“Fine, I’ll do it. But you, ma’am, had better make damn f*cking sure that that mutt of yours can’t reach me.”

Joan’s shoulders loosened, and they sent her a relieved if uncertain smile. “Well, I do have an idea… but I’m not sure how much you’ll like it.”

[shon-ha-lock]

Sweater Weather (harry/niall)

It’s that time of year! I had a blast participating in this year’s 1D Secret Santa. @silveredsound i hope you like my gift! 

It was a super cheap flight, in Niall's defense. A real deal. So what if the connection was in a tiny regional airport? In Wisconsin. Three days before Christmas. In the middle of a week of record low temperatures and snowstorms. 

Okay. In retrospect, maybe he should have expected something to go wrong. 

Niall's plane is the last to touch down in Chippewa Valley before it starts rerouting its incoming flights to airports not currently being blasted by the polar vortex. This is also, of course, when it grounds its outgoing flights “indefinitely”, leaving him and around one hundred other travelers stranded.

The whole airport has just two gates, with one shared, cramped waiting area. A line has snaked itself around that entire space, leading up to the customer service desk, where everyone is waiting for a chance to yell at a single beleaguered United Airlines employee about their flights being cancelled. 

Niall contemplates joining the line, but he’s more the type to wait until he can vent his anger by giving the lowest scores possible on a ‘how did we do?’ survey. And besides, just standing near the desk for a few minutes gives him all the information he needs to know, on repeat. 

“We sincerely apologize for the inconvenience this is causing our loyal customers,” is the current opener every time someone storms up to the little old lady working the desk. Her reedy voice is placating and increasingly nervous as she assures everyone that United is “currently working with Chippewa to arrange accommodations for anyone whose flight has been delayed by the storm.” 

This is comforting until Niall realizes that this means they don’t currently have hotel rooms set up for travelers with missed connections the way larger airports do. No shuttles, no vouchers, not a goddamn thing. 

They’re only twenty minutes outside of the little city of Eau Claire, Wisconsin, which probably has at least a few hotels with vacancies, but the odds of finding an Uber driver to brave the storm and get him there are slim to none. 

Niall’s not really the type to just stand around in a crisis and twiddle his thumbs, but if he’s being honest with himself, he hasn’t a goddamn clue what to do right now. He flies relatively frequently but he’s never actually had to deal with a flight being cancelled because of the weather, and he’s struck by a childish urge to call home and ask his mother for advice about what to do. 

At the moment, it’s looking like he might actually need to call her anyway, because she’s expecting to pick him up from Albany International in five hours, and that’s definitely not happening now. God, he hopes he’ll make it back to New York at some point within the next three days. He’s never spent a Christmas away from home in his twenty six years of life, and he doesn’t want to start now. 

He’s well on his way to an anxiety spiral when he notices that there’s one other passenger besides him not angrily crowding around the service desk. He looks to be around Niall’s age, and he’s pawing through a backpack with a resigned expression on his face. After a minute, Niall figures that he must be searching for warmer clothes to put on; the man’s short sleeved shirt is well-equipped to show off all the strange tattoos on his arms, but isn’t exactly appropriate for December in Wisconsin. 

Niall, by contrast, is dressed and packed for two weeks of winter in upstate New York. He looks down at his own backpack, aware that it’s stuffed with four different Aran sweaters, and makes a decision. It’s the season for doing good deeds, after all. Making a stranger a little less miserable surely counts. 

“Hey there,” Niall says as he walks over to the man, who’s given up looking through his luggage and is now sitting forlornly on one of the waiting area’s cheap plastic benches. He looks up, and Niall’s breath -- well, it honest to God catches in his throat. This guy must be some kind of model, because he’s got just about the most gorgeous face Niall’s ever seen. Green eyes, red lips, the works. 

“Hi?” the guy ventures after a few seconds of Niall staring down at him like a lunatic. 

Niall can feel himself go red as he hurriedly unzips his backpack, feeling around until he grabs a fistful of wool.

“Here,” he says, pulling out a sweater at random and basically throwing it at the guy’s head. 

“You looked cold, so.” He shrugs. He watches this ridiculously good-looking stranger hold out the sweater to examine it, smiling widely for a second before his expression shifts to concern. 

“Oh, this is hand-knit, isn’t it? I couldn’t possibly take this,” he says, trying to hand it back to Niall, who takes a step backwards and shoves his hands in his pockets.

“Really, I insist,” he says. “Seriously, you’d be doing me a favor. My grandma still thinks we live in Ireland and makes one for me every year; I’m drowning in the things.” This seems to make the guy only more determined to hand it back to him, but Niall perseveres. 

“I’d feel guilty just getting rid of them, but if I tell her I passed one on to a chilly traveler I’ll be grandson of the year, so.” 

Niall narrowly avoids pumping a fist in the air in victory when this makes the guy giggle, bite his lip, and finally, reluctantly pull the sweater on over his t-shirt. It’s a sea green that matches his eyes perfectly, which is great, because what Niall really needed was to be even more distracted by a random person’s good looks. 

“I can’t thank you enough,” he says once it’s on, his chin-length hair now attractively rumpled. “I was worried I was going to freeze solid the second I went outside.”

He holds out a hand; Niall takes it. Soft palms, manicured and painted fingernails -- this guy might really be a fashion model. 

“I’m Harry,” he says. He smiles wide enough when he says it that his cheeks dimple. Niall’s heart is in some serious trouble now. 

“I’m Niall,” he replies, letting go of Harry’s hand a second later than is probably appropriate. 

He’s not sure how, but he wants to keep the conversation going somehow, just so he has an excuse to look at Harry’s face for a little longer. Before he can come up with something, an ancient intercom crackles to life and makes them both look around.

“Attention, travelers. In two hours, the storm is expected to dissipate enough to start offering shuttles into Eau Claire. Chippewa will be providing vouchers for the following lodgings.” 

The announcer rattles off a list of local hotels before repeating the entire message over again. This announcement seems to renew the stranded travelers’ agitation, and they start swarming the service desks with complaints about the wait. Harry and Niall both stay where they are, clearly on the same page about not bullying the elderly. Harry doesn’t seem any happier than the people yelling, though.

“I didn’t manage to sleep on the plane because I was so nervous about the weather and the turbulence,” he confesses to Niall. “I’m pretty sure I’m going to pass out before that shuttle actually gets here.” 

“Where are you coming from?” Niall asks. They’re making small talk! Success! 

“Well, I started out in Italy thirteen hours ago,” Harry says ruefully. “Then I had a connecting flight in Boston, and from there, I should have gone all the way out to LA, which is where I’m spending Christmas. But I had to book last minute, and the only flights left had an extra connection. So I took a chance on this one, and of course now I’m stuck here.” He pouts as he says it, and it should make him look immature but instead he just looks like he’s posing artfully for Covergirl or something. 

“So we’re heading in opposite directions,” Niall says. “I’m coming from LA, and I’m on my way to New York.” 

Harry’s eyes light up at this.

“Oh my god, do you live in NYC? I love spending time there, it’s one of my favorite cities in the world.”

Niall sighs and shakes his head in mock-disappointment. 

“Everyone loves NYC so much but they always forget about the actual capital of New York.”

When Harry just stares at him blankly, Niall relents and laughs out, “I’m from Albany. My whole family immigrated there from Ireland when I was six months old." 

Niall feels a bit awkward at first, talking about his life with someone he just met, but he quickly learns that Harry is the type of old soul who loves to make conversation with strangers. And by the time the shuttles start actually arriving he can't say that the two of them are strangers anymore. 

He learns that Harry's lived in LA his whole life, and so traveling anywhere that's cold knocks him off his feet. Niall's only lived in California since he started attending UCLA (at first as an undergrad and now for post-graduate work) but it turns out he and Harry have several mutual acquaintances, which delights Harry to no end, and he seems more interested in Niall's classes last semester than Niall was, asking questions about what he learned and whether the professors were cool or boring. 

He's in the middle of a rant about early morning lectures when the intercom starts announcing that they'll be able to start shuttling people into the city soon. Which of course means that the two of them are going to have to go their separate ways. 

Harry starts fussing with his luggage again, seeming almost shy now, and thanks Niall again for the sweater.

Niall scrambles for something else to say to forestall a goodbye. 

“How did you know it was hand-knit?” is the only question he comes up with, but it's effective.  

"Oh!" Harry exclaims, going all smiley again. 

"The pattern was really detailed, and I could see how tight the stitches were. Didn't seem likely that a machine made it," he says. 

"Wow, you've got a real eye. Do you work in fashion or something?" Niall asks, wondering if his initial impression was right after all. 

"Or something," Harry says, seeming embarrassed for some reason. "I um, do modelling work sometimes. Shoots for Gucci, mainly, but other brands too. It's why I was in Italy, actually." 

Holy shit. There’s an actual Gucci model wearing one of his grandma’s sweaters right now. What a thought. His mom is going to flip when he finally gets to New York and tells her all about this. 

"That's really cool," Niall tells him, scrambling to think of a segue into asking for his number that doesn't come off like he's just trying to hook up with a model.

As luck would have it, Harry provides one for him - by asking for his grandmother’s phone number.

“Or even just her mailing address,” Harry rushes on when Niall bursts out laughing. 

“I’d like to personally thank her for making such a pretty sweater that’s doing such a good job of keeping me warm.”

“Well, I’m going to be seeing her for Christmas in a few days, if the weather calms down. You could call me and I could just hand my phone over to her.” 

It’s not particularly subtle, but luckily Harry doesn’t call him out on it. In fact, his face goes a bit sly, and he looks Niall up and down for a moment.

“Sounds like a plan to me,” Harry says, and then whips out an honest-to-god gel pen from nowhere to physically write his phone number on Niall’s hand. 

“Text me when you get a chance, and we’ll have each other’s numbers that way,” he says cheerily. 

A few minutes later, they go their separate ways - Niall with Harry’s phone number written in bright green ink on the back of his hand, and Harry with a signature Grandma Horan sweater to keep him warm. 

As he passes the service area, Niall cheerfully plucks a survey card from the desk. Seems like he’s going to give United a glowing review after all. 

[cali-holland]

Perfectly Wrong- Shawn Mendes One Shot

Pairing: Shawn Mendes X Reader

Prompt: You’re in for a lot of trouble when you enter a secret friends with benefits relationship with your sister’s best friend.

Word Count: 2800

Based On: Perfectly Wrong by Shawn Mendes

Masterlist    Shawn Mendes Masterlist

*Gif is not mine*

~~

It had never been easy for you- finding someone who found meaning in you. Being the famous Camila Cabello’s younger sister, you just felt that anyone who got close to you was using you for her. It hurt you to keep a safe distance from everyone, but you still did that. You would always set aside your happiness for hers, or that’s at least what you told yourself.

“What are you doing out here?” Shawn asked you, making you jump as if you’d just been caught doing something wrong. All you had been doing was sitting on the swing in Camila’s backyard, getting lost in your thoughts, as a party went on inside.

“Not my crowd.” You let out a shrug. Having one guy hit on you while staring at your sister was usual for you, but having two do it in one night pushed you over the edge.

“I feel it.” He nodded, walking over to you and casually sitting beside you. His voice was quiet as he spoke, “Are you good?”

“Just feeling extra lonely tonight, I guess.” You said, fiddling with your fingers nervously.

“What do you mean? You’ve got me.” Shawn gave you a soft smile.

“I mean that.” You pointed over to the window, where you could clearly see Camila cozying up to her boyfriend as she talked to her friends.

“Oh,” He paused, “That kind of lonely.”

“Yeah,” You sighed, “Before Camila left, all I wanted was to have something special like that, and then when she went off and became famous I just felt that was no longer an option for me.”

“Why not?” Shawn asked you innocently.

“Who would date me when there’s Camila?” You finally looked over at Shawn and suddenly felt embarrassed. This was Shawn you were talking to; he was your sister’s best friend and the boy that everyone loved. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this. It’s nothing you’ve experienced, I’m sure.”

“I feel like everyone’s been through that. Whoever says otherwise is definitely lying. You probably just haven’t found your person yet, that’s all.” He tried to sound confident as he spoke, but you could tell he just wanted to find a way to make you feel better. “Besides, I wouldn’t say I’m the most experienced person out there.”

“More experienced than me. I haven’t even kissed anyone yet, let alone held someone’s hand romantically. I’m the saddest nineteen year old there is.” You let out a playful whine to lighten the mood. Shawn just laughed and casually reached his hand over and intertwined your fingers, delicately holding your hand in his. His eyes went from your hands to your own eyes, silently asking if it was okay.

“What are you doing?” You asked, looking at your connected hands.

“I’m holding your hand. Does this count as romantically?” He replied with a small smirk on his face.

“I don’t-” You began to answer as he brought your hand up to his face and pressed a light kiss to the back of your hand.

“Romantic enough?”

“Are you trying to make a move on me? Because you’re being so smooth right now, but I also feel like you’re mocking me at the same time.” You stated.

“Oh, I’m one hundred percent mocking you.” He teased. Suddenly feeling a burst of confidence, you replied boldly.

“There’s still a second part to my earlier statement.”

“Is there now?” Shawn asked leaning in. “If this is going to be your first ever kiss, I better make it a good one.”

“Don’t disappoint me.” You replied. You closed your eyes as he placed his free hand on your cheek, pulling you in for a kiss.

~~~

Five months after that party, you weren’t entirely sure of what you and Shawn were. You knew that you really liked him, but it felt distant, as if neither of you would confess having true feelings for each other. You two had grown a lot closer though, helping each other gain ‘experience’, as Shawn called it. Part of you felt like you were completely being strung along for the ride, but another part of you absolutely enjoyed it.

The only regrettable part of the whole thing was the decision to keep it a secret from Camila. She and Shawn had a mutual thing for each other years ago, and Shawn felt that her knowing about the two of you wouldn’t be good. You hated lying to her, but it was for the best, right?

“Do you not answer your phone anymore?” Camila asked you once you finally picked up your phone on her third call.

“I was busy. What’s up?” You replied, ignoring the fact that Shawn was currently placing soft kisses on your neck.

“Can I come over? It’s about Matthew.” She said, her voice shaking just a little. At the sound of her voice crack, you lightly pushed Shawn off of you.

“I’m not at home right now.” You stated as the boy pouted at you for pushing him away.

“It’s late though.” Her response was more like a question.

“Yeah, I went out with the girls.” You tried to make your lies smooth.

“Oh, okay. So can I come by tomorrow?” She asked.

“Will you be okay until then?”

“Yeah, I just wanted to vent, but it can wait. I think I want to break up with Matthew,” She said, before quietly adding, “and I think I’m in love with Shawn and I have no clue what to do about it.”

“Um, that’s a lot.” You said, looking to see if Shawn had heard her through the phone. Thankfully, the curly haired boy was distracted by his own phone.

“I know. I should call him.”

“Call Shawn?” You clarified to your sister as he looked up at you, confused.

“Yeah, I feel like I need my best friend.”

“He might be asleep, you know. He did just get back from touring.” Shawn held in his laugh.

“You’re right. I should go. I’ll see you tomorrow?” Camila asked.

“Of course.” You replied as she said goodbye and hung up the phone.

“Is everything okay?” Shawn asked you, wrapping his arms around you again.

“She’s just overthinking everything.”

“Sounds about right.” He placed a kiss on your cheek, “But I know I’m definitely not asleep right now.”

“Did you want her to call you too?” You asked, raising your eyebrows at him.

“No actually. I can’t say no to her like you can. You’ve really got this lying thing down.” Shawn said. He went to give you a proper kiss, but you pulled away.

“I’m sorry, I’m just really tired. Mind if we call it quits early?” You asked, trying your hardest not hear Camila’s voice in the back of your head. It seemed as if you mind was stuck in a loop, hearing her confess to being in love with the boy who currently had his arms wrapped around you.

“Are you sure Camila’s okay?” Shawn questioned.

“Yeah, but I’m sleepy.” You replied, turning so that you two were spooning and he couldn’t see your distraught face. Shawn felt confused by your actions, normally you’d sleep with your head on his chest, something that he absolutely loved. As he felt you fall asleep beside him, he quietly whispered to you those three words that he wasn’t brave enough to tell you when you were awake, but he didn’t realize Camila’s words kept you from sleeping.

The next morning, you woke up to Camila calling you. You didn’t hesitate to pick up the phone, feeling bad for ditching her last night.

“I’m outside, are you going to let me in or not? And I brought you coffee.” She said in her normal happy voice, sounding much better than last night.

“You’re here?” Your voice was louder than expected as you bolted out of the bed, waking Shawn up in the process.

“What the-” He started to groan, but immediately went pale as you held a finger to your mouth.

“Yeah, I’m literally outside of your door.” She stated.

“I wasn’t expecting you to be outside my front door so early.” You repeated her words so that Shawn knew the problem you two were faced with.

“Are you going to let me in or not?” Your sister asked.

“Give me like two minutes, I need to change.” You said before hanging up the phone quickly.

“She’s outside?” Shawn asked you as he tugged on his clothes from the night before.

“Yeah, but we need to figure out how to get you out of here without her knowing.”

“Or we could just tell her?” He suggested, biting his lip as he was unsure of how you’d react. You looked at him with a shocked expression, a dead giveaway of your first thoughts.

“I was, um-” You paused as you tried to think of what to say. All you could hear was Camila’s voice from last night mixed with Shawn’s whisper from last night.

“I think she’ll be okay with it.” He said, taking your hands in his.

“No.” You said, looking away from him as you spoke. You began to change into normal clothes, “We should stop this, whatever this is.”

“Y/N, what- what do you mean?” Shawn asked you, feeling his heart ache by your statement.

“It was fun when we started this, but, Shawn, we need to stop sneaking around. I can’t hurt Camila like this, you’re her best friend.” As you turned around to face him again, he just stood there speechless with a frown.

“I’ll, um, I’ll sneak out the back when you let her in.” He said in a monotone voice. You knew he was trying his best to hold himself together. As you went to the front door, he dipped out the back. He took one last look at you when you let Camila in. His heart broke with every step he took away from your place.

“I love him, I think I really do.” was the first thing out of your older sister’s mouth as she handed you your coffee.

“Who are we talking about here?” You asked. You forced yourself to bite back your tears as she beamed at you.

“Shawn. I love Shawn.” She told you confidently. “Do you think it’s bad that I’m leaving my boyfriend for another guy?”

“No, not at all.” You couldn’t help yourself as you tried to reassure her, pushing aside your own feelings. As she casually sat on your couch, she finally realized something was off with you.

“What’s wrong?” She asked you.

“Nothing.” You said.

“Keep your secrets then.” Camila replied. Her phone dinged as she received a text and you recognized the sound as Shawn’s ringtone.

“What does Shawn want?” You asked, acting as if you didnt want to break at the mention of him.

“I invited him over, like right now.” She said and you looked at her horrified. “I want to tell him how I feel, and I really don’t want to do it with all of Matthew’s stuff around my place. Is it okay for him to stop by? I’m sure he’d love to see you.”

“Yeah, I think I’ll go get actually cleaned up when he’s here though, give you two some time together.” You subconsciously began to touch the covered hickey below your collarbone, left from Shawn last night.

“You’re literally the best.” She smiled, “He’s on his way.” As soon as she said those words, three tentative knocks came from your door.

“Shawn!” Camila greeted him with a large hug, her smile stretching across her face.

“Hey,” He smiled down at her, avoiding your gaze.

“Why are your eyes red? Have you been crying?” She asked innocently.

“No, just tired.” Shawn replied, trying to wipe away the redness.

“I’ll be in my room.” You said, exiting as soon as you could.

“She didn’t even say hi.” Camila playfully rolled her eyes at you before bringing Shawn into your living room to talk to him.

~~~

The next two weeks were incredibly awkward and difficult for you. Camila was the happiest she had been in years; she seemed to fit so well with Shawn. You, on the other hand, were sadder than you had been in a long time. You and Shawn both tried to avoid each other at all costs, both hearts aching at the mention of the other. It hurt even more that your sister had absolutely no clue about it- she would always try to set you up with one of her guy friends or find a way for you, her, and Shawn to be together. Tonight was one of those nights.

“You’ve got this.” Camila said to Shawn right before his latest gig. She gave him a quick kiss and he smiled at her.

“Thanks, I’ll be back soon.” He told her before grabbing his guitar and heading on stage.

“You’ve really never seen him perform live?” Camila asked you as she stood beside you.

“I don’t exactly go places.” You replied jokingly.

“He’s amazing.” She stated, looking up at him dreamily. It hurt you to see him like this, and it hurt you even more to think your sister still didn’t know.

“Yeah, he really is.” You said as he began to play Lost in Japan.

Halfway through the gig, he sat down at the piano and began to play the soft melody of the song you knew too well- Perfectly Wrong.

“I want to slow things down a bit with this one. Sing it with me.” He said into the microphone before singing the lyrics. You told yourself you’d handle yourself- you can’t break in front of Camila, not now, not to your song.

“Oh, and why I can't quit

When you break my heart open

I need you more than I know

Oh, and I can't resist when you're up against my skin

I never wanna let you go” As the song slowed again, he felt himself start to break before continuing.

“You're perfectly wrong for me

And that's why it's so hard for me”

“I’ve never seen him play this song, but he’s really getting into it.” Camila said, taking her eyes off him to look at you. You nervously bit your lip as you saw Shawn’s eyes grow teary.

“I slept with Shawn.” You confessed in a hurried breath.

“You what?” Camila’s eyes seemed to double in size as she looked at you astonished.

“Well, you weren’t dating at that time.” You clarified, “We agreed to just not say anything, but I just feel so guilty about it and-”

“Y/N, do you love Shawn?” She asked you. Her smile was long gone as her eyes turned sad.

“I-I don’t-”

“Do you?”

“Yes.” You admitted, feeling shameful.

“I’m not upset.” She told you, pulling you in for a hug. “I needed a distraction and he was that for me; I could tell he never loved me.”

“I called it off with him as soon as I knew how you felt about him. I just couldn’t do that to you. I’m so sorry, Camila.” You said, leaning your head on her shoulder while still being completely enveloped in the hug.

“Stop apologizing to me. Besides, you should be telling Shawn how you feel, not me.” Camila pulled away from you and offered you a small smile. You sighed and looked over to the boy on the stage as he began to sing a much peppier song.

“I hurt him a lot.” You paused. “I don’t even know if he still feels the same.”

“Come on,” She said, playfully nudging you with her elbow, “The boy’s smitten by you.”

“If you say so.” You replied nervously.

“So,” Camila looked back over to you with a smirk on her face, “How good is he in bed? I want to know what I’m giving up here.” You laughed at her teasing, trailing your eyes back to Shawn. He glanced over at you and did a double take when he saw you and Camila smiling in his direction. He felt his heart skip a beat- for the first time in weeks, you were actually looking at him.

When he got off the stage, he fully expected to be greeted by Camila; it was a surprise when you came bounding up to him, pulling him in for a big hug. His jaw dropped as he slowly wrapped his arms around you once more. Over your shoulder, he saw Camila nodding in approval.

“Y/N,” was all Shawn could manage to slip out as you pulled away from the hug and brought him in for a kiss.

“I love you too, Shawn.” You confessed when you finally pulled away. “I heard you that night when you told me.”

“Is this okay?” He asked you, checking for more confirmation. He didn’t want to get his hopes up again.

“More than okay.” You said as he pulled you in for another kiss.

“I missed you.” Shawn told you, resting his forehead on yours.

“I missed you too.”

[white-collar-lawmen-and-conmen]

The Execution

Summary: You execute your revenge plan and seize an unexpected opportunity. (Sequel to The Salted Coffee Hit List.)

Word Count: 2,769

           Ryan went down fast once he had erroneously decided he could trust you, and after two more face-to-face operations plus a lot of in-character communications over the phone, he gave you some damning evidence which you relayed to Peter to build your case. While you couldn’t enter the broker’s office without thinking of the time you’d had Neal and Peter both interrupting every few minutes, you hadn’t had the time to get back at them for it because the case had to come first.

           By the time you were back in your routine, that had been nine days ago and you weren’t even sure Peter would remember what had happened without some prompting. Hell, he could barely even remember to get his own clothes from the dry cleaner’s without a reminder. You caught yourself wondering if it was even worth it anymore.

           Then you realized that you had the element of surprise over them both. After plotting – um, pondering on it for a while over a TV dinner, you decided you couldn’t let them get away with it. It would set a bad precedent.

           Despite what most cop shows might have led you to expect, being a senior agent didn’t give Peter the excuse – or the guts – to order his agents to always bring him coffee. All members of his team alternated with who got all the coffees, and you bided your time until it was your turn.

           “Y/N,” the barista called loudly, barely looking up from the coffee cups as he put several down in a cluster.

           You grabbed a couple of white salt packets off of the utensils counter as well as two thin red stirrers, then started checking the names on the coffees as you were putting them into a cardboard drink carrier. You left yours, Diana’s, and Clinton’s free of tampering. Neal’s, with added cream, and Peter’s, straight, were left out of the carrier for just a moment. Trying not to look suspicious to the baristas or any other customers, you quickly but calmly opened both men’s drinks, dumped a salt packet in each, and stirred the salt into dissolving faster before trashing the stirrers and putting the tops back on.

           No one suspected anything when you carried all the drinks back up to the twenty-first floor, across the bullpen, up the mezzanine, and into the preferred conference room. Keeping a straight face was a bit of a challenge, but you had been under higher stakes than this before, and you were not about to let your amusement ruin this for you.

           “About time,” Neal commented, his dull eyes lighting up as soon as he realized there was coffee in the room. Peter looked like he had been halfway through chastising his informant when you came in, which probably explained said informant’s boredom.

           You put the carrier down on the table while keeping your own cup in hand. Jones looked at his watch briefly before standing up to reach for his coffee. “I thought it would take longer. Lunch rush.”

           “They’re starting to learn our order by heart,” you remarked, grimacing slightly. How much money did that branch make from tired FBI agents? Probably as astronomical amount.

           Peter let everyone else get their drinks before he got his, but he was also the first to try drinking it while the steam was still rising from the slot in the lid. Sitting down normally, you kept an eye on him as he took a sip, made a face, forced himself to swallow, and then stuck his tongue out at either the heat, the saltiness, or both.

           “Something wrong?” You asked, keeping your face even and tilting your head.

           “I think I just tasted my tongue burning off,” your boss said, disgruntled. You were silently delighted. It was so hot that he couldn’t even pick up on the salt. He was going to drink the salted coffee again.

           “The steam was supposed to clue you in,” Diana quipped.

           “What have we got since I left?” At your question, the team got back on track. Diana and Peter filled you in with a quick review.

           The five of you continued looking at your case for several minutes before the steam had quit venting out of the coffee lids. Neal took a taste of his while listening to Jones report on accounting figures and the face of disgust he made was worth every second of anticipation. As soon as he knew his coffee was tampered with, his eyes shot up to you.

           “That was low,” he said, interrupting Jones.

           “What did I do?” You asked earnestly, blinking. Neal didn’t buy it for a second. Diana looked at you suspiciously and drank some of her own coffee. Since she hadn’t been deserving of sabotaged beverages, she didn’t find anything wrong with hers and shrugged at Jones.

           “It was almost two weeks ago.” Neal frowned.

           “Congratulations, you can count.” You smiled sweetly at him.

           Peter rolled his eyes and looked up to the ceiling. To brace himself for dealing with conflict, he drank some more coffee. It had cooled down enough by now for him to realize that the taste was god-awful and he turned around so quickly his tie flew, like he was going to spit it out in the trash can. He didn’t end up doing that, which disappointed you a little. It would’ve been more interesting if he had since you really hadn’t put in that much salt.

           “For God’s sake,” he grumbled, turning back around after forcing it down. “What the hell was that for?”

           “Huh,” you said thoughtfully, locking eyes. “I guess I must have accidentally mixed up the salt and sugar.” You kept up a polite smile.

           Peter looked at Neal as if to say it was his fault. Neal made an innocent face at him and gestured to his own, almost untouched, coffee to emphasize that he was a victim, too. Peter just strengthened his glare and continued to blame Neal.

           “I haven’t touched yours,” he objected, “I barely even touched mine!”

           “Because there’s so much salt in it you could melt the ice off the road!”

           Diana snorted and leaned back in her chair. “There’s free coffee in the kitchenette.”

           Neal gave her an apprehensive look. “That’s not real coffee.”

           “Ick.” Peter picked his cup up for a third time, but this time he dropped it into the trash bin. Neal pushed his along the table so that when the boss turned back around, he repeated the process with Neal’s cup.

           “How long were you planning that?” The thief asked you, crossing his arms.

           “I’ve had the idea since you wouldn’t shut up in the van.”

           “It took you two weeks to do that?” He shook his head. “Wow, Y/N. Wow.”

           So what if it was unsophisticated? It was unpleasant for them, and that was all you had wanted. “You weren’t expecting it and I ruined your afternoon because now you don’t have coffee.” Although you wanted to stick your tongue out at him, you decided against it. Instead, you sipped on your perfectly tasty latte with smug pride.

~~~ The Execution ~~~

           Although you couldn’t accept coffee from Neal or Peter for a couple of weeks, the salted coffee hit list had been successfully carried out and was absolutely worth the inconvenience of having to get your own drinks for a while. The boys appeared to have taken it with some salt (pun intended), but there were no reprisals – they must have realized that they had it coming. Both of them had worked undercover before, and both knew how freaking aggravating it was when the utility of the earpiece was abused.

           Work carried on as uneventfully as it ever did when your colleagues included a contemporarily-renowned con artist. When you joined the bureau, you had thought it would be exciting. It was, but you had confused the movies for real life. When you all caught wind of a case which involved a stolen identity, a missing persons profile, and long-term embezzlement, you all jumped to seize the investigative leads.

           You almost forgot how boring it could be to sit in the van while someone else was doing the tough work. For a moment, you understood why Neal had been so insufferable. You worried about him, too, of course you did. This sympathy only lasted for a few minutes as Neal charmed it up with the receptionist inside while he waited for his appointment with the in-house accountant. If he could so freely wing it and expect you to stay quiet, then he should have been able to keep his mouth shut when you were watching your words and policing your body language.

           “How did you do that?” The soprano voice asked with laughter. You rolled your eyes at the flirting while listening with a headset over your ears. Neal responded with the French word for sleight of hand, trying to appear cultured and suave.

           “If this goes on for much longer, my lunch is going to make a reprise,” Peter shared, looking at you and pretending to have to settle his stomach.

           You picked up your phone to check the time. “I thought the appointment was at one?”

           “It’s supposed to be,” the senior agent grumbled. “This should be time theft.”

           If Neal could hear you now, he would be offended. Your eyes darted to the recording equipment, just to see. The light was off on the equipment – the line was only open one-way. But that could change…

           Peter wouldn’t go along with it because work was serious and had to be prioritized. You were glad he knew that, but Neal apparently didn’t, and sometimes that man only learned lessons when they were beaten into his skull. Though you’d been content with your petty revenge, this teaching opportunity was too good to pass on.

           “Hey, boss, he’s just going to be hitting on that poor girl for a while,” you said craftily, giving a yawn into the crook of your elbow. “There was a Starbucks just a couple streets back, I’d love a pick-me-up.”

           Peter yawned after you and blinked, apparently just then realizing how tired he actually was. “Me, too. I could use a stretch.” He got up and patted his pockets to check he had his wallet, phone, and badge. “Your usual?”

           “Yes, please.”

           You waited for him to shrug on his coat, jump out, and close the back of the van before you pressed the two-way communication button on the recorder. The light turned green and you smirked.

           Neal kept flirting with the receptionist, and you kept yourself quiet. Though it was tempting to suddenly start chatting in his ear and distract him from the pretty woman’s attention, your point would have a lot more heft behind it if you waited until he was mentally invested in the task. He enjoyed flirting, but he himself said that it was more of a game than a serious endeavor.

           Almost ten minutes after Peter left the van, the sound changed and someone faintly called Neal’s name on the other end. He quit talking with the receptionist and a few seconds later, he was introducing himself as Nick Halden and the other man’s voice was much closer than it had been before. The accountant introduced himself by his nickname, Walt, and Neal very subtly snuck in a comment on how the accountant’s office looked so that you and Peter would know where to go if things went sideways.

           A couple of minutes into the meeting, a thumping on the doors had you stand up and open them for Peter with your headset still on. You took both coffees from your boss and let him climb back in and close the doors. He had graciously gotten your favorite latte. You smelled it first, and then took a tiny, slow sip.

           “Don’t worry,” Peter said dryly as he sat down. “I thought about it, but exercised some self-control.”

           “Ouch,” you remarked back at a normal volume, knowing Neal was hearing every word while he was also trying to concentrate. “That stings.”

           “So does too much salt.”

           Neal didn’t let on that he was hearing voices. You knew he wouldn’t or you wouldn’t have risked it. You had always admired his composure. Before long, he had become, for the most part, a behavioral mirror of Walt. Neal did it so skillfully that if you didn’t know exactly what he was doing, you wouldn’t have known he was manipulating his behavior at all.

           A few minutes passed by, and Neal’s careful questions and inconspicuous prods started to show a little more about what the bad guy was thinking. It was time to interrupt again, you noted, and had a legitimate reason to do so. “What do you think?” You asked Peter, swiveling in your chair. “Is he the one pulling the strings?”

           “I have a hard time believing someone else is doing it,” Peter said thoughtfully. “Accounting is very precise, and it’s not all about crunching numbers and filing taxes.”

           “I know what this kind of job’s like,” Neal was saying, sounding earnest and a little… patronizing, maybe? It wasn’t a straightforward inflection – you would have had to see his expression to know for sure. “You spend all your time up here, crunching numbers, filing taxes, and no one even knows your name. Guys like us deserve a thank you once in a while, is that so much to ask?”

           You thought quickly and acted to catch Peter’s attention before he realized that the uncanny repetition was Neal hinting that he could hear you. “He could just be the brains behind someone else’s greed,” you pointed out.

           “He could, but I don’t think so. Not enough money’s gone missing to make up two cuts.”

           “Maybe not yet,” you countered. “But if he thought this could go on long enough, they could rake in plenty for two people, or even three.”

           Peter leaned forward, thinking about it carefully. You couldn’t wait for him to reply. Although Neal’s tone wasn’t cluing you in to any irritation or stress, you knew it had to be there. And in the meantime, the accountant was agreeing vehemently, getting braver because of Neal’s expressed sympathy.

           “I suppose,” he said slowly, “But the way they’re talking, there’s not room for another person.”

           “Let’s hope he’s the only one, then. Less paperwork.”

           Neal kept continuing in the direction that his conversational partner was leading. It was becoming excessively clear that Walt felt the company owed him more than he was being given. There wasn’t anything concrete enough to use as evidence, but it was obvious that if you were persistent enough, you could get something out of him.

           “I gotta spend my whole life cleaning up their messes and making their lives easier. And what do I get? Barely 80K.”

           You rolled your eyes as the suspect whined at Neal. “Oh, is that all?” You sarcastically asked, then snapped, “Jackass.”

           Peter was shaking his head. “The city’s not a cheap place to live, but that’s a lot more than most people get. I think he’s doing fine.”

           “Greed like that should be illegal,” you commented. Thinking that a perfectly respectable salary was too low and feeling entitled to embezzle as a result was just inexcusable. No one was entitled to rip off other people. No one.

           “In his case, it already is.” Peter mumbled, his low tone letting you know he was having similar thoughts.

           The appointment continued on, but didn’t last very long. Most of that time you were respectfully quiet, not wanting to push too hard and actually jeopardize the case. Every few minutes, you would pipe up with something that sparked a short exchange between yourself and your boss. You had counted up to six interruptions before Neal was politely but firmly dismissed, and “Nick” gracefully made an exit while persuasively cajoling Walt to keep in touch.

           There were a couple minutes of silence, and then the sounds of an elevator door closing and beeping with every floor as it descended. Presumably isolated, Neal let himself sound annoyed as he spoke again. “Seriously, Y/N?”

           Peter was confused for a second before it dawned on him to check the equipment. The light on the box was still green. Peter slapped the button to turn it back into a one-way receiver and then turned an accusatory look on you. Now you understood how Neal felt right before one of those famed Burke lectures.

           Putting your hand up quickly for a chance to speak first, you managed to hold him off long enough to say plainly, “Worth it.”

~~~

~~~

A/N: Woohoo! Thanks to @whizzer-fashion for my first commissioned story! Also, yay for my first posted series!

My requests are closed, but if you’d like to get around that little issue, please drop me a line or ask about my commission options or go straight to my Ko-Fi page. A oneshot of this length is $4 (pricing formula: cost = $1/500 words, + 500 words free). Imagines are $1 each, and you can also get a 2-for-$1 would include package.

[marvelxwinchester]

Welcome Back...Clint!

Pairings: Avengers x Reader

Warnings: Some swearing

" So who's Clint again?" You asked Tony as you laid on the couch your back on the cushion while your feet hung off the back of the couch and your head off the couch near the floor.

" Clint, " Steve said as he walked over shoving your feet down making you sit up correctly face red from being upside down, " Was one of the original six of us. He retired a few months before you joined this Circus. "

You nodded your head you were still confused as to why he was coming back, " So your telling me he retired and now wants to come back to the Circus? Why in the fluffy nuts would he want to come back? "

Tony rolled his eyes at the word censor words you had just said while Steve just shook his head.

" Same reason you'd retire for Becca, to speed more time with his kids and wife, " Steve said as he sat down across from you.

You narrowed your eyes at the Captain, " Steve, Becca is a dog. Yes, she is my fur baby and I love her to Asgard and back, but I wouldn't stop being an Avenger for her. "

He rolled his eyes, " Y/n that's not what I meant. I mean if you had a kid or a family you would hypothetically want to retire."

" That didn't help her at all Cap, what he means is. Bird Boy probably got bored of shooting golf and needed some excitement." Tony said before standing and leaving to his lab.

" See, " you said pointing after the billionaire, " That was a reasonable answer Dinosaur."

" I will not hesitate to make you run 10 more laps during training Y/l/n, move it," Steve said making your eyes widen and you jump up, running off to find entertainment.

And you defiantly found it. Would it be in a way Steve would approve? Hell no to the Nah Nah Nah. Would it satisfy you greatly? Hells yea. We're you going to do it either way and no matter what? Fuck the rules! Hell yeah, you were.

And so that is how you ended up in vents with a lot of different things and those were as listed:

Firecrackers

Silly String

Stink Bombs

Super Glue (no clue why)

Vegetable Oil ( didn't question it)

Some very durable string

And finally

A lovely new unopened Mini Skinny Taser.

Steve most defiantly will not approve of anything you plan on doing or the targets.

It had taken a while but you had finally set everything up and you were damn proud of it. So proud that you thought you deserved a nap for all your hard work. And that's exactly what you did, grabbing the pillow you had brought up into the vents to sit on you laid down.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Clint was due to arrive any minute now and all of the Avengers along with some of there friends were waiting in the common room. They had spent the last two hours decorating and making sure everything was in place that they completely forgot to check up on there most trouble making team member.

That is of course until Natasha finally looked up from where she was busy adjusting something to do a head count.

" Nine...Ten...Eleven, " She counted before turning to Steve who was behind her, " Steve? Have you seen Y/n?"

Steve looked around the room and shook his head, " No, sorry. I haven't seen her since this morning, maybe she went out. I'm sure she'll be back soon."

Natasha shook her head, " Knowing her she forgot about it and won't be back anytime soon. She'll just have to meet him tomorrow or afterward if she shows up. "

~~~~~~~~~~

Clint had just gotten out of the elevator when he was assaulted with silly string, covering him from head to toe in the sticky mess.

" Damn it. I'm gone for what feels like a five minutes and they're a mess." He muttered wiping it off his face.

In the common room, Bucky had just sat down in his favorite chair that was in the corner when a horrid stench appeared out of nowhere.

" Damn it, " Bucky said gagging holding his shirt up over his nose.

Sam had walked over when he caught a whiff of the odder his eyes started to water and he covered his nose.

" Barnes, what the hell did you eat? " He gagged talking to the ex-assassin.

" It's not me, honestly! I think it came from the vents."

" Yeah right!"

On the other side of the common room near the kitchen, Steve stood waiting for the cookies he had baked to get done.

As he talked with Thor he soon smelt something burning.

" Shot! The Cookies! Come help me, Thor, " Steve said turning and running into the kitchen.

As the two big, buff and blonde men ran into the kitchen to save the cookies they didn't notice the yellowish liquid on the floor.

As soon as Steve's foot slid across it was game over for him as he slid forward into the cabinets.

As for the Norse God behind him to avoid slipping as the Captain had before he had grabbed onto the refrigerator handle to stop himself only for his hand to get stuck there.

" Captain Rogers? Are you alright? And um also my hand seems to be stuck permanently to the food storer."

Outside in the common room, Tony and Peter stood talking about the Spider-Suit completely oblivious to the "streamer" that was swaying near them.

" So I was thinking about making the webbing stronger so I could... Hey, Mister Stark can you hear that?" Peter asked looking to his mentor.

Tony listened as he looked around before shaking his head," No I don't kid, I'm sure it's nothing."

After a few more minutes, there was a more prominent electrical sound and Tony turned towards Peter confused.

" You can hear it too right?"

" Yeah, I can."

Tony looked around before raising his hand and waving it through the black and purple streamers above his head only to let out a yelp of pain.

" Fuck!" Tony hissed lowering his hand in pain, shaking it out.

" What is it Mister Stark?" Peter asked worriedly.

Tony shook his head, " Nothing just got shocked a bit it's fine."

Back in the kitchen, Steve had finally gotten up after sitting in the puddle of Vegetable Oil for a few minutes trying to collect himself.

Thor, on the other hand, had finally figured out a way to unstick his hand by pulling the handle off the refrigerator completely.

Clint had finally made it into the common room full of people he had gone through two more silly string attacks.

" SURPRISE!" They all yelled as Natasha and Wanda walked forward holding the cake, well Natasha was Wanda was using her ability to make sure it didn't fall over.

Clint's eyes widened and he smiled completely forgetting he was still covered in sticky strong.

" Wow, " He said walking up to the cake that was decorated to look like a Bow and Arrow, " This is amazing!"

" Wanda, could you move this over to the table?" Natasha asked the female causing her to nod.

As she guided the cake above everyone's heads the black candles that were arrows started to spark causing everyone to look up at it in confusion.

Up above in the vents, you had just woken up from your little nap when suddenly there were screams and a loud popping sound. Sitting up quickly you knocked your head against the vent ceiling.

" Fuck! Ah, shit!" You yelled out as you looked out of the little shutters of the vent to see that all of your little activities had gone off.

Opening the great you jumped down as the smoke finally cleared out a bit allowing everyone to see the damage.

The common room was covered in cake and smelled off something horrid mixed with smoke while the taser was just hanging going crazy.

Everyone came out of there hiding places and looked around the room.

As Natasha looked around she caught sight of you and narrowed her eyes.

" Y/N! WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?" She yelled making you jump.

Turning to the furious redhead slowly you let a small smile come to your face, " "Welcome back...Clint!"

With that, you took off sprinting to the elevator before any of the victims could strangle you to death.

[falseroar]

Dark Laughter Part 8: Studio Time

((Here are links to Part 7: Just Be Happy and the start of the series, Part 1: What Dark Saw. Hey look, no warnings this time!))

The studio space that the egos used was, much like the rest of their home, not quite right with reality. Every time it was used it seemed just that little bit different, whether because the ceiling was slightly higher one day than the next or the segmented walls weren’t guaranteed to be in the same place every time the studio was used. Considering the wildly different uses the egos put the area to, there were props and flimsy backgrounds littering the floor everywhere outside of the relatively small space that was actually used for filming.

It also didn’t help that keeping a steady crew outside of the egos themselves was nearly impossible, as the guests weren’t the only ones lucky to survive even one segment. Right now, aside from the four egos standing around the cameras, the only other normal person was a man attending to the monitors where an earlier recording of Bim’s game show was playing.

“Wilford, why did you drag me here?” Dark asked, noticing that the Google standing among the other egos had already spotted him and was attempting to give him a warning glare. Dark returned it with interest and a silent promise to make the android regret any hasty words this time.

The glare was somewhat ruined when Wilford threw one arm around his shoulders and patted Dark’s cheek with his other hand. “I think it’s time to put you in front of the camera again! The fans have been asking for it, and this face deserves to be on the screen!”

Wilford shook his hand after the pat to dispel some of the cold seeping from Dark’s aura as he scowled. Behind him, the row of monitors began to flicker with static and ghost images while the intern pulled off his headphones and threw them as far away as possible.

“Or behind the camera is good too. Can never get enough help these days, and yes, Jerry, I’m talking about you. Tell your wife I said hi!”

Wilford ducked to avoid the mike that sailed through the space where his head had been a second ago and added to Dark as if nothing just happened, “But you want to get in the in, on the up and up, am I right? Here’s where we start.”

Wilford winked and strode across the studio floor toward the four egos.

“Good evening, everyone! Are we ready to start?”

“If you mean start my show, then yes,” Bim said, straightening his tie as he watched Wilford approach. “I have the studio for the day, and we still need to go two more rounds. Isn’t that right, my lovely contestants?”

“Uh, they all, uh, made a run for it,” Eric said from his place offstage and away from the cameras even though they were clearly not on. “During the break. The crew too. Jerry, um, he was the last one but I guess he’s gone now? Not that, uh, that’s Mr. Warfstache’s fault or anything, I’m sure he…had other things to do…”

Yandereplier hissed under their breath and said, “Yeah, kind of hard to finish the game without the players. Sorry, Bim.”

Yandereplier shrugged and the red-shirted Google appeared to be unable to care any less than he already did, but Eric seemed to make a determined effort to appear even smaller than his usual cowering. Bim’s anger, however, had only one target in mind as his eyes narrowed behind his glasses.

“Why do you do this every time?! Can’t you let me finish one segment without you butting your giant pink mustache into it?”

“Well, I don’t see how all that was my fault,” Wilford said, not backing down as Bim stormed up to him. “I’ve warned you about locking those doors, but you’re always so surprised when people run away because they ‘want to live’ or whatever. Why do you even bother with these game shows, anyways? Oh, whoop de do, ‘I’m the next Alex Trebek’ or whoever the kids are watching these days. Why don’t you ever change it up a little? Have some fun?”

Bim swelled up and gripped the lapels of his jacket as he gave Wilford the hard stare. “How dare you! Alex Trebek is a national treasure!”

“I’m…not sure that’s what you should be taking offense to,” Dark said as he approached. “And I also recall that you made an attempt to host your own game show, Wilford. What exactly did you have in mind here?”

“Hm…” Wilford paused to consider, long enough to confirm to everyone present he had no clue, before he said, “Oh, I know, how about an interview! Haven’t done one of those in a while.”

“And you’re not doing one while it’s still my studio time,” Bim said.

“Besides, how exactly is doing the thing you’ve always done changing it up?” Yandere asked, but both hosts ignored them.

“I’ll have to get my interviewing knife,” Wilford murmured to himself, patting down his thighs as he spoke. “How embarrassing, to be caught out with only my shooty and no stabbys.”

“Yan, go dig out some costumes, Eric, put on a wig, and Google, find some egos with nothing better to do, we’re finishing this show!”

“…Can I be the contestant that doesn’t have to go through the grinder?” Eric asked.

“Grinder?” Dark repeated.

“Only if you get your questions right!” Bim answered, playfully slapping the younger ego on the back. “…And get lucky with the Wheel of Wow.”

“No one is going through any grinder,” Dark said.

“Because we’re going to need to set up for the interview,” Wilford added. “Eric, find my chairs, Google, set the lighting, Yan, keep being beautiful, you. Oh, who should our guest be? I hear there’s a kid named Sally Face who’s got some wild stories to tell, we just need to get past the guards and—”

“Uh, no, we’re going to finish the game! You can’t just leave the grinder waiting!”

“…I rather think we can,” Dark muttered, noting to himself that this is exactly why almost no one else in the house ever got presents from Santa. He reached out and grabbed Eric’s shoulder while he waffled back and forth on who to listen to and said, “Just give it a minute.”

“I, uh—” Eric flinched as both Wilford and Bim threw out conflicting orders on what he should be doing as their argument escalated, starting with reasonable requests such as to get one of the others and going on to tearing down the set, finding a prison guard’s uniform, and turning on the “fighting music,” whatever that was. “Should we do something?”

“Nah,” Yandere said as they pulled out their phone to check some messages. “This happens all the time. Just let ‘em vent, right Google?”

“To save on memory and data usage, this unit ignores orders until the fighting stops,” Google answered, watching as Bim reached his arm up and around, trying to get a hold of Wilford’s mustache from the half nelson hold Wilford had him locked in. “Longest recorded time was 4 hours, 37 minutes, and 3 seconds.”

“Only because you stopped counting during the great pineapple on pizza debate because you said it was stupid,” Yandere pointed out. “That lasted, like, weeks.”

“Yes. We completed several tasks while you lesser beings were occupied arguing the merits of frivolous and ultimately meaningless energy consumption,” Google said, smiling to himself. “It was a good time.”

As entertaining as this was, Dark didn’t feel like waiting to see if these two would break that record. “That is enough. Wilford, enough!”

He hauled on both of them, pulling them up to their feet and using his aura to separate the two long enough for Wilford to fix his suspenders and Bim to run a hand over some flyaway hairs.

“Neither of you are going to be recording anything,” Dark said, and interrupted them before either could protest. “Bim, you have no crew, no contestants, and you might as well just try to salvage what you can from what you’ve already recorded at this point or start over. Wilford, you don’t even have a guest, much less any prepared questions, and again, no film crew.”

“Pft, who needs preparation?” Wilford asked.

“Weren’t you just saying you wanted to try and work on scripts a few minutes ago?” Dark asked.

“But this is my studio time, I don’t want to just waste it.” Bim scowled. “Who even asked you, anyways?”

“I could let Wilford put you back into a headlock,” Dark offered. “There’s enough cameras around here, maybe we could film that and post it instead.”

“I mean, I got most of it on my phone already,” Yandere chimed in. “But if you want to keep going, we could get some sweet angles, maybe get some props to beat each other with. Google, you can handle music, right?”

“I have access to a wide variety of music which may be suitable for this situation,” Google said. His eyes blanked for a moment and then he added, “Would you prefer heavy metal or banjo?”

“Banjo!” Wilford answered, cracking his knuckles.

Bim paused to consider and said, “You know, if you wanted another pair of eyes on those scripts, I’m sure we can come up with something…A little less harmful to my health?”

Wilford’s mustache tilted as his mouth twisted underneath it and he stroked his chin. “A crossover, you say? A little something to keep the fans guessing?”

Bim couldn’t hide his relief that Wilford was already moving on to another idea, but that meant he now had to follow up. After a moment of struggle, his eyes lit up. “You know, these ninja warrior, ultimate champion obstacle course type shows are fairly popular these days.”

“Obstacles?” Wilford grinned and rubbed his hands together. “Pits. Pendulums. Possibilities.”

“I know where we can get some chiranhas who are ready for some fresh me—er, fun.”

“Bim, my buddy, I think it may be time to move outside of this studio and really get our hands dirty,” Wilford said, throwing an arm around the ego’s shoulders. “Tell me more about these chiranhas.”

Dark watched the two of them start throwing ideas back and forth and admitted aloud, “I may have just unleashed a great evil upon this world.”

“Eh, it’s Tuesday. Bound to happen eventually,” Yandere said with a shrug. “You should see what I got up to in the Occult Club last week.”

“Remember, don’t make any deals with demons without letting me vet them first,” Dark said out of reflex and Yandere snorted. He noticed that Google was still giving him the glare and asked, “What? What problem could you possibly have with me right now?”

“It is my directive to keep an eye on you when in the same vicinity in case you revert to previous modes of behavior,” Google answered. “That same directive warns against behavior designed to curry favor or increased familiarity in an attempt to regain your previous station within the house.”

“For how long?” Dark asked. After all, he could wait. He had been patient before, he could do it again.

“Unspecified.” Google turned his head at a call from Bim and walked away without waiting for Dark’s response. Probably a good thing, as Dark wanted nothing more right then than to rewrite the android’s “directive” in a…manual kind of way.

Before long, Wilford and Bim were drawing out plans across the studio floor with Google running numbers and Yandere throwing in the occasional suggestion. Eric watched from a distance, “um”-ing and attempting once or twice to suggest that some of their ideas might be a little too lethal, but to no avail.

They were so wrapped up in their plans that some time passed before Wilford looked up and then around the studio before asking, “Say, where did that Dark go? He should be helping us!”

“Disagreed,” Bim said. “Do you think a second flamethrower would be too obvious?”

“He left a while ago,” Eric said and looked away when Wilford gave him a sharp look. “I guess he, uh, had something he needed to say to Y/N? Only they walked by the door and he practically ran after them.”

“Logical error noted,” Google said and grunted when Wilford pushed past him and ran out of the studio.

“Yeah, like that,” Eric said weakly. “Is…is something wrong, do you think?”

“Eric Derekson’s statement is incorrect,” Google continued, scowling a little as he rubbed at the spot where Wilford’s hand hit him. “Y/N is currently in the infirmary with another Google unit, and they have not left the room since they arrived two hours ago.”

“Well, it looked like them,” Eric said, frowning.

“Maybe you just wanted to see them,” Yandere said. “I see my Senpai in all kinds of places. In the clouds. In my tea leaves. In the monitor connected to the secret camera I set up in his bedroom.”

“…What?”

Bim sighed at the flurry of notes and stood up, dusting off his pants as he checked his watch. “Is it that late? We’re going to be late for dinner, and I have a feeling Wilford won’t be coming back anytime soon from wherever he’s run off to. Come on, if we’re too late, Chef Iplier will rope us into helping wash the dishes.”

“Ugh, I had prune hands forever after last time,” Yandere said, leading the way to the studio door.

But Google beat them all to it and slammed the door shut before locking it on the inside.

“Uh, what’s the deal there, Googs?” Bim asked.

The ‘G’ glowed on his red shirt, but the android’s eyes were vacant as he spoke as if reading off from an internal memo.

“Lockdown has been initiated. No one is to leave their current area, and no one is to go anywhere alone or unsupervised. All egos are to remain in place for their own safety.”

---

Dark swore as he rounded the corner and found yet another empty hallway. He had seen you just feet ahead seconds ago, but there was no sign of anyone as he continued on, checking every door he walked past as if you had enough time to duck inside before he could catch up. Rain lashed against the windows and he realized that, at some point while he was in the studio, a storm had blown in. Right, the King of the Squirrels had said something about it earlier, hadn’t he? But now the wind shook the house as Dark made his way from room to room before stopping outside of one door in particular.

He knocked, but no answer came from inside your bedroom.

After a pause, he opened the door and peered inside. The room was dark and clearly empty, but he still turned on the light and walked in.

Your bed was undisturbed (how long had you been staying with Mark this time?) and there was nothing obviously out of place as Dark made his way to the closet door and checked inside, just to be on the safe side. A flash of lightning outside the house briefly added to the light in the room and Dark stared down at the empty closet floor.

Where did you hide, when you were at Mark’s house? Was the closet in your room there enough to block out the lightning and thunder and the memories they brought with them?

Dark shut the closet door a little harder than necessary, causing one of the pictures pinned to the board on the wall nearby to flutter. He paused, taking in the series of photographs of you with the other egos, and Mark, and the other friends you had made in the time since you came here. Below the board, a strange stuffed animal sat on top of the dresser, its wide eyes meeting Dark’s. Its species was a complete and total guess, although for some reason Dark hovered between duck or lion.

In its lap was a dried rose petal. It had faded since the time Dark gave the rose to you, the almost black hue more clearly a dark blue that tinted toward red on the outer layer. And, for some reason, there was a trace of green running straight through it.

Dark frowned at the sight of that third color and reached for the petal, but realized he had no time to think about that as thunder shook the house.

“Wilford,” he muttered and turned toward the door.

Only to stop short when he clearly heard a knocking sound, but not from the direction of either door. Following the persistent sound of the knock, Dark turned around and saw the mirror hanging beside your bed, and the figure standing there.

It looked like you, but when Dark met the eyes of the person in the mirror, there wasn’t a single doubt in his mind who he was looking at.

The sound might have been inaudible through the glass, but their response was clear when the District Attorney saw they had his full, undivided attention:

“Finally.”

((End of Part 8. Thank you for reading! “Pits, Pendulums, Possibilities”... probably won’t be coming to a channel near you, for so many legal reasons.

And here’s a link to the next part, Part 9: Storm Warning.

Tagging: @silver-owl413  @skyewardlight @withjust-a-bite  @blackaquokat  @catgirlwarrior @neverisadork @luna1350  @oh-so-creepy @purpstraw @weirdfoxalley  @95fangirl  @lilalovesinternet-l @thepoolofthedead  @a-bit-dapper @randomartdudette  @geekymushroom @cactipresident @hotcocoachia @purple-anxiety-blog @shyinspiredartist @avispate ))

[natasha-cole]

#1 Crush: Part 18

Chapter Summary: Reader is still reeling after the breakup and a convention weekend proves to just make the entire situation more unbearable. To make matters worse, the man who is following her seems to know more about her than even she expected. Unsure of who she can really trust, she’s realizing that she needs to be as alone as possible for now.

Word Count: 6585

Warnings: angst, creepy fan

Notes: I don’t know what’s going on... but have some creepy stalker stuff.

Series Masterlist

Just days after you had dumped Rob and you had wrapped up your work week on set, you were ready to head out to the next convention.

It had been a difficult few days, and you knew that the weekend was only going to be even more difficult.

You were heartbroken. Devastated even. You had fumbled your way through the rest of filming, completely off after what you had done. No one else knew about it, and that probably made things worse.

You had avoided Briana’s persistent questioning of your behavior, telling her that you were just tired. She had no clue that you had just left Rob and that you were busy hating yourself for it.

Word would get out. You knew that. Your group was tight-knit and everyone knew everything that was going on with each other. But, you chose to buy yourself some time by trying to pretend that everything was fine while you were working.

***

You sighed as you sat back further in your seat, completely oblivious to the noise and bustling crowd moving around you as you waited at your gate at the airport.

Liam sat close by and you stared at him, sort of hating that he was even necessary. You really did want to be alone, especially now, but your safety had been compromised the moment you understood that the person stalking you knew where you lived.

Your manager had insisted that Liam remain with you at all times. He was always there. On set and now here with you at the airport so that he could also be with you at the convention. You knew this would turn into him being around no matter where you went. The thought of it was stifling and gave you even more anxiety, mostly because you really didn’t know him yet he was meant to protect you.

You closed your eyes and thought about Rob again and that night. You wished you could just stop thinking about it; but you replayed that night over and over again in your mind regardless of how much you wanted to not think about it.

You couldn’t get the sound of his broken voice out of your head; the way he pleaded with you to not do this, the way he asked you to just stop and talk to him before you made a decision. You recalled the look on his face, eyes wet with tears, when you asked him to leave.

Mostly, you could still feel the pain in your chest that you felt when you did end it. You were only forcing back your own tears every day, surprised that you even had any left to spare.

“Please, don’t do this. I know you don’t want to do this.”

You constantly replayed those last words he said to you as you closed the door on him.

You hadn’t meant to be cruel about it. You never wanted to leave him in the first place. But, you stood by your decision, knowing that he really didn’t deserve to be caught up in your mess and that the entire situation was going to eventually put an even bigger strain on your relationship. You hadn’t done this because you stopped loving him. You did it to protect him.

You subconsciously reached up to touch your neck, searching for the necklace that was no longer there. Your heart ached again. It had meant so much to you and you had lost it. Perhaps this was just an indicator of how your relationship with him was never going to last.

The attendant at the gate announced boarding and you sniffled quietly as you wiped a tear from your eye. You had to at least try to be strong even if you were devastated. There was no way you’d let your stalker know that you were feeling weak, especially now that you really were alone.

“You okay, Miss Y/L/N?” Liam asked as he joined you.

He stared at you with concern and you laughed forcibly, shaking your head at him.

“I’m fine,” you lied.

“You’re upset,” he pointed out.

“Well, no offense, but I’m just- sort of hate that I still have to have you around.”

He narrowed his eyes at you, definitely looking offended by your words.

“I mean, that this is all still going on and that I need a bodyguard at all. I didn’t mean that I hate you. Just- the reason that you have to be here.”

“I understand,” he replied, features softening now that you had explained what you had meant. “These situations are always hard. But, I won’t let anything happen to you. At the same, I’ll try to give you space. I imagine it’s difficult having a stranger around all the time that you have to trust with your life.”

“See, now you’re making it sound as if I’m actually in danger,” you chuckled.

“Aren’t you though?”

The words that had been scrawled in all of those letters sent to your fan mail address suddenly popped up in your mind. At no point on social media or even with the letters that had been sent directly to you had you ever really thought that your life was threatened. But those letters had been different. You often tried not to think about them, but it was hard not to.

“I suppose I am. Thank you for being here, even if I’m kind of a jerk about it.”

“It comes with the job,” he smiled.”I get it. I’m just the bodyguard. We’re not friends, hell we hardly know each other, I don’t expect you to be thrilled to see me.”

“You know,” you began as you stood up and gathered your belongings, steeling yourself as you made your way to the line to board your flight with Liam following. “Maybe it wouldn’t hurt for us to be friends.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, we have an 8 hour flight ahead of us… maybe we should get to know each other since we’ll be putting up with each other for unforeseeable future.”

“That might be nice,” he smiled.

You forced a smile in return. You didn’t know if you really wanted to get close to him. He was simply hired to protect you after all. But at this point, he really was the only person you had left. Especially when you had already made the decision to hold back on spending too much time with any of the people that you loved for their own good.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He asked again.

You broke from your thoughts, looking up at him. You were terrible at hiding your pain, that much was obvious.

“You know,” you began slowly, wondering if it was appropriate to spill things to this man that you probably shouldn’t get too friendly with. “I’m really not.”

“Well, if you need someone to talk to, I’m a good listener,” he replied, smiling at you.

“Thanks. But, I don’t want to drag you down with my drama.”

“I know that you have Rob, but when he’s unable to be around, you can talk to me if you like.”

Just the sound of his name stung. You looked at Liam again and you must have looked hurt based on his reaction to you. He frowned, looking legitimately concerned as he tilted his head at you and reiterated his original question.

“Did I say something I shouldn’t have?”

“Um, maybe just to avoid future heartache… you can maybe not mention him,” you answered. “Things didn’t work out and I don’t want to go into details… but I suppose that, as the man who’s paid to watch over me, you should know that he and I are no longer together.”

“I’m so sorry,” he said softly.

He made a movement as if he were going to console you, reaching his arm up briefly before letting it drop back to his side when he realized that it would be crossing a line. Instead, he just watched you, not knowing what to say as you had just made everything awkward.

This wasn’t something to throw at your bodyguard. In fact, you knew you shouldn’t let yourself get friendly with him at all. He was paid help and as far as you understood, it should remain a professional relationship. But you were very alone. You didn’t have Rob anymore and you knew that your contact with your friends had to be limited if only to keep them all safe. You really just needed someone that you held no emotional ties with to vent to, and Liam was the perfect candidate.

“Don’t be sorry,” you replied. “I just figured you should know.”

The line began to move and you quieted yourself as you started to follow Liam. You couldn’t explain any more of this to him. Even if you decided the two of you should get to know each other a bit, he wasn’t someone that you trusted enough with the details. He wasn’t going to be your best friend. He was simply just the only person that you were willing to discuss this situation with now.

You would no longer drag Rob down with you and you would no longer have your friends be invested. It wasn’t fair to any of them. This was your problem. It just so happened that you were paying Liam to be involved in the problem. The least he could do was listen to you vent.

“You sure you wanna work this weekend?” He asked as he turned to you. “I didn’t know about that, and it might be difficult to have to work and be near him.”

Yes, this weekend was going to be rough and you weren’t sure how you and Rob were going to handle being around each other. After days of avoiding him and ignoring his calls, as much as it pained you, you weren’t sure if he would even acknowledge you after you had just broken his heart.

Even more, you knew you’d also have your friends to deal with once they knew about you leaving him. You wouldn’t say you were prepared at all for what was about to come, but you also knew that you had bigger things to worry about.

“Yeah, I’m good,” you responded. “The show must go on.”

***

Your flight had arrived late that night and Liam saw you safely to your room before retiring to his own just across the hall. You settled into your room alone that night. You had managed to get your own room booked just days ago, after your breakup with Rob, and you knew it was for the best.

After you had landed, your phone blew up with texts from your friends who were already in town. Even though you arrived pretty late, they were eager to have you join them for drinks, but you simply weren’t in the mood. You knew Rob would be there and you wanted to avoid him as much as possible this weekend.

Based on their messages, you assumed that they probably didn’t know about what had happened. You certainly hadn’t shouted it out to the world and you figured Rob hadn’t either. The wound was still fresh; and if you were hurting this much, you didn’t want to think about what Rob was feeling right now.

Already in PJ’s, you laid in bed and scrolled through your apps on your phone, knowing that you should just stop. You told yourself that you were just checking in on social media, but you never failed to do a search of yourself just to see if there was anything new out there about you.

It was the usual. You found an account that you had become quite familiar with. It was probably still up mostly because you had tired of reporting accounts and tweets; and your friends were probably tired of it as well. This particular one seemed to be sticking around.

You scrolled through, feeling sick at the various posts going on and on about how much they loved you, videos or you singing pulled from YouTube, photo ops obviously stolen from other fans with everything but your face cropped out of them… at least for now they were tame though. Whoever it was didn’t seem angry with you at the moment.

You ignored some text messages, mostly from Briana who was asking you to please text her back. But you weren’t ready to face your friends yet.

After a few more minutes of diving down a dark hole on this particular twitter account, you were interrupted by your phone ringing. You sighed when you saw Briana’s name pop up, but figured it would be best to at least answer so that she would stop texting you.

“Hey Bri,” you said, letting out a yawn as you realized just how exhausted you were.

“I take it that means you really aren’t joining us?” She chuckled when you finished.

“Nope. I’m ready for bed.”

“Okay, I can take a hint.”

“Thanks for thinking of me though. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Wait,” she said hurriedly, making you pause before you had a chance to end the call. “Can we talk about something real quick?”

“What’s up?”

“Rob said that the two of you are no longer together,” she stated.

She certainly didn’t waste time at getting to the point. You closed your eyes, steeling yourself for this. It was bound to happen, you just hadn’t thought that Rob would have said anything so soon.

“Well, he’s right.”

“Why?”

“Because it just wasn’t working,” you sighed.

“I don’t buy that for a second.”

“We just decided that we shouldn’t be together.”

“Why can’t you tell me the truth?”

“What do you want from me? Look, this has been hard enough, I don’t need you to press me for details on my relationship that ended.”

“You broke it off with him,” she said. “He told us.”

You held back the need to cry again. Of course the man had been hurt, and of course he’d turn to the people that he trusted. It just sucked that those people were also your people.

“I did. Please, don’t remind me of what an awful person I am.”

“He’s… really upset,” she went on. “He probably really shouldn’t be drinking tonight.”

“I’m sorry,” was all you could manage to say in response.

“He said you had a fight? An argument about this shit that’s been going on…”

“I really don’t want to do this right now,” you sighed. “It’s late and I’m hurting as well. Please- just make sure he gets back to his room okay.”

“Y/N…” she sighed.

You could tell she was frustrated with your lack of answers. But, you couldn’t bring yourself to talk about it yet. You knew it probably sounded awful coming from Rob’s lips, the way you had ended things; but you couldn’t take any of it back now. It was done and he was better off.

“Goodnight,” you replied. “I’ll see you all tomorrow.”

You ended the call before she could say anything else, heart aching again as you took in how all of this was affecting everything about your life. Rob was hurt, your friends were probably pissed at you, and you felt so sad on top of the anxiety and stress that had been consuming your life lately.

You set your phone aside and turned off the lamp, curling up under the covers. Sleep found you quickly that night.

***

You were pulled from your sleep by your phone ringing in the middle of the night. Groaning, you turned to your side and glanced at the alarm clock next to the bed. 3:34 am.

You frowned to yourself and reached for your phone, staring at the screen only to see that it was an unknown caller. The strange phone calls at all hours of the night had stopped for a while, so you were surprised to be getting this one right now.

Your thumb hovered over the ignore button for a moment, but out of sheer curiosity, it moved to the answer button.

You paused for a moment before putting the phone to your ear.

“Who is this?” You asked.

As expected, you were met by near silence. The only thing you could make out was the faint sound of someone breathing on the other end of the call.

“Who is this?!” You demanded, voice raising this time out of frustration.

Still, silence.

You choked back a sob, keeping the phone to your ear as if you expected whoever it was to actually respond.

After a moment, you ended the call as you let yourself cry. You quickly switched your phone to silent and laid there in bed, staring up at the ceiling as tears rolled down your cheek.

Almost as soon as you had ended the call, you got notification of being tagged in a tweet. You clicked on it, trying to focus through your tears. It was from the account that wouldn’t stop posting about you.

It was a simple tweet, yet still creepy. Just your twitter handle followed by words that made your skin crawl.

‘It’s always so good to hear your voice.’

Now, at least you knew. These calls weren’t just random, accidental calls. They were from someone who was purposely harassing you. They were coming from the man who was following you.

You shut your phone off this time, still crying. How would you ever figure out who this was? How had they remained anonymous for this long?

You reached over to what would usually be Rob’s side of the bed, fisting your hands in the sheets as you began to sob harder.

***

You didn’t sleep for the rest of the night after that phone call and tweet. You had tossed and turned, feeling more alone than ever before. You wished you had Rob to turn to. You wished that you had handled things differently. You had always felt so safe with him, and now you just felt more afraid.

Even as you headed to the green room with Liam close by, you were tense. You hadn’t slept enough and the second cup of coffee wasn’t helping. You kept glancing around you, trying to be aware of your surroundings. All of the joking you had done, pretending as if you weren’t that affected by any of this, had all but washed away. You had to take this seriously, and you were starting to.

The beginnings of you finally accepting that this was a real and scary thing that was happening to you had come about in your decision to break things off with Rob. Someone had been in your home. Someone kept harassing you online. Someone had your number and was certainly not afraid to use it. Yes, you being on your own would keep Rob and your friends safe even if you weren’t.

You sat alone once you arrived to the green room, not taking a moment to even say hi to anyone as you entered. They all knew about what you had done, and you were sure you were the most hated person here right now.

The band nor Rich were present and you were grateful that they were probably off rehearsing for the con that would start soon. At least you didn’t have to see Rob right away. You still weren’t sure how you were going to handle it.

You avoided eye contact with everyone else, turning on your phone finally and pretending to be immersed in something when you were really just deleting more phone calls that had been missed throughout the early morning hours that you had shut your phone off.

You turned to your texts then, pleased to see that at least this creep wasn’t trying to contact you that way. What you did find was a text from Rob that had been sent this morning.

‘Can we please just talk today?’ Was all it said.

Your heart hurt just seeing his name. Even worse, seeing that he just wasn’t giving up on you. You had spent the last few days following the breakup ignoring him. You didn’t answer his calls or his texts. You told yourself it would be easier if you just avoided all contact with him.

It wasn’t easier though. You were still fighting with yourself over what you had done. Part of you wanted to just apologize, take him back, and hope that you could move on from it. Mostly though, you just didn’t want for him to be a part of this. He obviously couldn’t handle it anymore based on the way he had spoken to you that night and although he insisted that you could get through it and that he was there for you, you didn’t know how long that would last. It would just be worse if it ever got to a point where he really couldn’t deal with it anymore and decided to leave you instead.

You sighed and clicked out of the message, choosing to ignore him again. Now, you were just trying to come up with ideas on what to do if he actually approached you here and asked the same question. You knew deep down that he would. You knew he wouldn’t let it go. You just didn’t know how to tell him that you needed to be apart for his own safety.

“We should talk about this.”

You looked up to the sound of Kim’s angry voice as she shoved her phone damn near in your face. You pulled back to focus on the screen, trying to hide your irritation at the her demand.

“What is it?” You asked.

You saw what it was as you spoke the words. A tweet from that same stupid account that you couldn’t avoid.

‘Y/T/H, I can’t believe he broke your heart. You’re too good for him. Maybe there’s hope for us yet. I would never hurt you.’

The words were attached to terribly pixelated photo of you that appeared to have been taken at a Louden Swain show. You recognized the venue at least, and you weren’t sure where the picture even came from. All you could imagine right now was that he had been there and taken it himself. The thought made your skin crawl.

“What the hell?” You breathed out.

Kim pulled her phone away from you, looking at it as she scrolled through disapprovingly.

“There’s more like it,” she explained. “All from last night and this morning. The guy is going on about you being single and Rob being a dick for hurting you. I know it’s not true… and I don’t know how to get him to stop. Nothing anyone does makes him stop.”

“How does he know?” You said quietly, almost to yourself as you tried to figure out how anyone else knew about your breakup.

“Know what?” Kim asked.

“It’s not true…” you trailed off. “I mean, he didn’t break my heart. He didn’t do anything wrong. But, how does this guy know that we split? How does he already know that I’m single?”

“Y/N, what’s going on?”

“Rob and I are not together anymore,” you replied honestly.

“Excuse me?” She responded, this time shouting as she stared at you in shock.

“We split up a few days ago,” you said softly.

“What the hell?”

This time, she quieted her words, face falling in disappointment as she now looked concerned.

“I haven’t said anything to anyone,” you explained, trying to wrack your brain, thinking if maybe you had said something and not realized it. “I mean, I know he said something to Briana last night… maybe the others… but you guys wouldn’t go and tell everyone about it, would you?”

“I had no idea,” she replied. “I wasn’t with everyone last night.”

“I told Liam,” you said as you remembered your short conversation about it with him yesterday. “But, only because he’s my bodyguard and I thought he should know. He’s under NDA, so he wouldn’t…”

You were confused now. It didn’t make sense that Liam or even Briana would share this type of thing with anyone else. All you could think was that Rob had.

Kim, on the other hand, was less concerned about how this guy had apparently found out about your breakup. She seemed to be heartbroken over the thought of you and Rob of all people not being together anymore.

“Why did you breakup?” She asked. “I don’t understand.”

“Look, I really don’t want to talk about it,” you sighed. “It just didn’t work out, okay. I’m sorry. I know everyone was rooting for us and were relieved when we finally started dating… but sometimes things just don’t go the way you want them to.”

“But, it’s you… and Rob.”

“Relationships end sometimes, Kim. They just do.”

“Yeah, but not when two people are so perfect for each other and so in love. At least, they don’t end this suddenly.”

“What do you want me to say?”

“You don’t have to say anything. I just- I can’t believe it.”

Briana chose that moment to stroll into the room, just as you were considering walking away from this conversation.

It was bad enough that everyone knew about this now, especially the creep who was stalking you, you really didn’t want to have to keep talking about it. You had made your decision, no matter how difficult it had been, and you were set on sticking to it.

“Right?” Briana asked Kim, as if she had been there through the entire conversation. “No one can believe it. In fact, I’m still in shock.”

“Before anyone jumps to any conclusions, I left him. He wasn’t happy about it… neither am I really. But, it just had to be this way.”

“You left him because of the shit that’s been going on,” Briana stated as she crossed her arms. “He told me.”

You rolled your eyes at her, looking away as you tried to play it off as if that weren’t the sole reason you had done this. It sounded to stupid for that to be the reason, but it was the only reason.

“Really, Y/N?” Kim asked, raising her voice at you.

“Look, we had a stupid fight and he told me that all of this was happening because I was egging it on. I know he didn’t mean it like that, but he was so frustrated and upset over this, I had to just walk away before things got worse. I can’t put him through this too.”

“Rob loves you. He’s always loved you. Just because he gets frustrated over things like this, doesn’t mean he loves you any less,” Kim added.

“I know that!” You shouted. “I love him too! So damn much. I love him enough to not want him to be involved in any of this, even if that means I’m not with him. You know that this creep has threatened him, right?”

“I- I knew,” she replied.

“I can’t- I can’t be okay with that,” you stuttered out. “This is about me, and if I can keep him out of it, then I will. Even if it hurts.”

“I get what you’re saying, but going through something like this alone…”

“I think that I have to be alone. If it keeps other people safe, then that’s what I’ll do.”

“The thing is…” Briana cut in. “The last thing you should be is alone right now. Being alone makes you vulnerable.”

“I’m not exactly alone,” you replied. “I have a bodyguard now. Apparently that’s a thing.”

“I’m not talking about the guy who’s paid to protect you, Y/N. I mean, friends and people who love you who can be your support.”

“And you guys have all done so much for me. I appreciate it, I really do. Thank you for everything… but I just want to be alone.”

“Are you cutting the rest of us off too?” Kim asked, concern present on her face.

“No. I’m just… no longer allowing any of you to be a part of this. It’s not fair. This guy knows everything about me. Literally everything and I can’t figure out how to just- keep him away. If he knows this much about me… where I live, where I work, when I go through a breakup… then he probably knows so much about the people that I love, and I just can’t do it.”

You were crying now, rushing your words as you tried to hold back the sobbing. It was overwhelming and too much all at once.

“What do you mean, he knows about the breakup?” Briana asked.

Kim decided to intervene, pulling up the tweets of her phone for Briana to see.

“Did you say something publicly?” You asked, knowing that she hadn’t. Regardless, you needed answers from somewhere and you sort of hoped that maybe she had slipped up.

“I would never,” she replied. “Rob only mentioned it last night. It was just me, Rich, and Ruth that he even talked to. Those two would never say anything either.”

“I know,” you sighed. “I know you wouldn’t. I just- don’t understand how he knows…”

“You said you told Liam,” Kim pointed out, raising an eyebrow at you as if to say that he was the only one who could have.

“I also said that he’s under NDA while he works for me. I don’t think he’d risk his job by airing my dirty laundry. Besides, we hardly know each other. Why would he say anything to anyone?”

“I suppose you’re right,” she replied. “I don’t know how this guy found out. Especially if it just happened a few days ago.”

“Do you think Rob might have said something?” You asked as you glanced between Briana and Kim. “Maybe he was drunk last night and he slipped up to a fan or something?”

“I don’t think so,” Briana answered. “Like I said, he was kinda a mess last night. We didn’t let him out of our sight.”

***

You walked away from that conversation feeling defeated. You had no answers. You never had answers when it came to this situation. The idea of your life being so out of your control was hard to deal with. You hated how things were now.

You knew deep down that Rob hadn’t said anything to anyone. Just like your friends hadn’t. You trusted them with your life. There was also Liam though. You were meant to trust him with your life. But, he had been the only person that you had actually told about this.

You shook the thought from your head almost as quickly as it had come. There was no way you would accuse someone of something like this when they were now an important part of your life. Not that you wanted Liam to be an important part of your life, but he was. No matter what, he was now the man in between you and any threat that came your way. Hell, he had been the first one there after the break in at your house. As far as you could tell, he took this job very seriously.

‘”I won’t let anything happen to you.’”

You recalled his words from yesterday, the sincerity in his voice as he looked right at you as he said them. Perhaps you didn’t know him well, but you trusted him. You had to trust him.

***

Your day hadn’t gone well, so it was only obvious that it would just get worse.

You had avoided Rob pretty well most of the day; ducking out of the room anytime he entered, neglecting to respond to text messages pleading with you to talk to him, even avoiding eye contact on breaks.

You were just trying to make it easier for him to hate you. Maybe if he hated you, he wouldn’t keep trying to speak to you in an attempt to work this out.

But, you had known all along that you couldn’t avoid him forever; and there came a point at the end of the day when avoidance had to stop.

You were just about to step into the elevator, Liam following as usual, to head up to your room when you actually looked up and saw Rob trying to exit. He had changed his clothes from earlier in the day and you assumed this meant that he was meeting your friends to go out again.

You froze completely, unsure of what to do or even say to him at this point. You wanted to just push past him and ignore him, but his pained expression upon seeing you made you stop.

He stepped off the elevator and stood in front of you. You didn’t even make an attempt to move as he did so.

“Hey,” he said softly, eyes flicking up to meet yours, his body language completely different than how he usually was around you.

“Hey,” you responded, unsure of how to even act around him now.

This was not you. This was not at all the dynamic between the two of you, and it never had been. You already hated what this breakup had done to the two of you, but not as much as what your situation had been doing to the two of you.

There was an awkward silence for a moment as you both stood there just looking at each other.

You saw Rob glance over to Liam briefly before looking back at you. Liam’s presence seemed to irritate him in this moment, and you had to admit that it bothered you as well. Rob was definitely going to bring up the break up, and it was something very personal and difficult for you. You hated the idea of a near stranger being a part of it.

“We should really talk,” he said finally. “I feel like everything was just heated that night and I said things I shouldn’t have… and maybe you said things you didn’t mean…”

“Liam,” you began as you turned to the man. “Do you think you can give us a moment?”

He hesitated as he had the tendency to do when you asked him to step away from you. Sure, he was supposed to be close at all times, but this was not a conversation that you wanted someone else to be a part of.

He nodded after assessing the situation and stepped away to the other side of the hallway where he just waited for you. He was easily still able to hear you from that spot, but you figured it was better than having him breathing down your neck.

“Rob, I meant what I said. I need to just be alone.”

“There was no indication that there was a problem in our relationship,” he pointed out. “We were happy. You can’t leave me because of one argument- an argument that we didn’t even get the chance to work through…”

“I’m not mad at you for the argument. I’m not mad at you at all. I know you didn’t mean any of it.”

“Then please let me just fix this.”

“You know, there’s nothing to fix,” you sad. “It wasn’t broken. I just- had to walk away before it did break.”

“What does that even mean?” He asked in exasperation.

Again, he looked at Liam and then back at you, seemingly annoyed that Liam was even here to witness this.

“All this time that we’ve known each other… flirted and hung out and dated… we never fought. We never argued or got upset with each other. And this one time, it went there. That was hard. I never thought you and I would fight like that.”

“It was just a shitty situation,” he said.

“And it’s never going to stop being a shitty situation until this guy stops,” you said bluntly. “Who knows when or if that will ever happen. Either way, this situation caused us to fight. I don’t want it to continue to weigh on us and break us. I would rather not be with you if it means we can salvage what we always had.”

“I’m already broken, Y/N,” he said sadly.

His words hit you like a punch to the gut. The last thing you ever wanted to do was hurt him in any way. But your attempt at keeping him safe seemed to be ruining the man.

“We finally got there,” he added with a forced smile. “After all that time, I finally asked you out. I am in love with you and I know you love me… so, I don’t know what you’re doing,.. what you’re thinking…”

“I’m thinking that I just don’t want to drag the people that I care about into this mess anymore. I know you said you were there for me and you’ve been so good to me through this, but I can’t do this to you. I can’t do this to us.”

“We can get through it. Together.”

“Please. Stop,” you breathed out in frustration. “I just- I need to be alone. Please, leave me alone.”

You called for Liam who was by your side in a second, turning away from Rob as you waited for the elevator to arrive again.

This was hard. You felt like crying again as Rob stood there, defeated, as he had to watch you walk away from him yet again.

You ignored him even as you stepped onto the elevator with Liam, avoiding eye contact as you knew he was watching you. You had never wanted to hurt him. You loved him. Now, you were devastated all over again and wishing that you could just say ‘fuck it’ and run to him; let him hold you and kiss you again.

He had always been your safe place. And this was the first time in all the time that you had known him that even he didn’t feel safe anymore. Most importantly, you felt that he wasn’t safe.

You had to admit, his words sounded nice, and you wanted to desperately to take back everything; to pretend that you had never broken up with him to begin with and that the two of you could just go back to being that newly in love couple that you missed so much. But you had so much more to worry about; so much more to deal with.

You had a stalker who knew where you lived, and you strongly believed that if he could find you there, he most likely knew where Rob or even your friends lived. The guilt of having any of them possibly involved in this mans sick games was too much for you.

At this point, no matter how much you wanted Rob, you would act as if you didn’t. You also knew that you were going to basically cut yourself off from your friends as much as possible. Maybe if this guy saw that you weren’t close with anyone anymore, he’d at least leave them alone. Sure, you worried about your own safety, but you worried about the people you loved even more.

You only glanced up at him just as the elevator doors closed. You wished you hadn’t.

You wouldn’t be able to erase the look on his face from your mind for the rest of the night. It was just another night that you would spend tossing and turning, unable to find sleep.

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[errantgoat]

Lost and Found

A belated Birthday gift for my dear @queen-scribbles

Dragon Age one-shot set in the canon shared between our Wardens - Trinne Amell and Harvey Cousland. Takes place right after the battle for Redcliff. Because some days are shittier than others.

Trinne was more than happy to leave Alistair and Cousland alone on the Redcliff shore after the battle. The night had been rough, she was tired, and not in the mood for listening to two men exchanging grievances like a couple of fishwives. Instead, she returned to the village and threw herself into performing what menial tasks needed to be done – from checking up on the rest of the party (all accounted for, even Zevran, she'd have to tell Alistair he lost that bet), counting what means of defense the village had left (two barrels of oil left, unused), to helping villagers carry the undead corpses (too many) onto burning pyres. The sun was already peeking over the hills, when she realized she had seen neither the templar nor the rogue and asking around confirmed they haven't returned to Redcliff proper. 

Grumbling underneath her breath, Trinne directed her steps towards the pier, and then to the left, through waist height weeds and bushed, towards a small piece of shore from where the final wave of undead came last night. Half worried, and half promising herself to give the two lazy oafs a piece of her mind, she traversed the overgrown path and emerged on the other side, only to find Alistair's lone silhouette occupying the sorry excuse for a beach.

Trinne joined him, her question quickly answered when she spotted garments dumped in a pile on the rocky ground. She didn't even have to follow Alistair's line of sight. Calenhad Lake was eerily still, like a fancy silver mirror, and Cousland's head was a dot ways away, disturbing the said stillness, ripples blossoming whenever he resurfaced or dove underwater.

She opened and closed her mouth, and opened it again, pointing towards the lake. "Is he insane? He knows there's at least dozens of dead people in there, right?” Trinne exclaimed. "Moving ones!”

Alistair broke away from watching the rogue and greeted her with a forced smile. "I guess he thought it would waste time?" He guessed, guilt painted on his face. "I offered to bring a row boat, but he wouldn't hear any of it... He said I've done enough." The templar shifted uneasily. "He knows it was an accident, right?"

"Of' course it was an accident!" Trinne rolled her eyes. An incredibly dumb one, admittedly. So dumb that pointing fingers in this situation was unreasonable, and she assumed a pragmatic person like Cousland would be better than that. Apparently not.

She wistfully glanced towards Redcliff, she could almost visualize the vacant cottage they've been given for lodging. They were real beds there. Real beds. All she wanted to do was to go to sleep. Or at least try to, because it was becoming increasingly difficult to catch a nice full night of rest for her lately. Trinne blew a raspberry, resigned - something always came up. 

Just an hour or two more, you can make it. She shook her head to get rid of the cobwebs and then critically looked the templar over. Alistair looked almost as disheveled as she felt.

"I ate already." She nudged him, nodding towards Redcliff. "There's a stew, for the militia and us too, of course." She flashed him a toothy grin. "The villagers went all out."

Hesitantly, Alistair returned her smile with his own, a more tight lipped one, but his eyes gave the smallest twinkle of mischief. He cocked an eyebrow. "It can't be better than the one I make?” He asked theatrically, as if offended. 

She stifled a snort and managed her most thoughtful expression. "It has potatoes in it. And real vegetables."

He turned his gaze towards the sky, nodding. "Well, in that case, tough competition."

She grinned and nudged the warrior again, because this could go on forever. At least he seemed a little less distracted now. "Go. I'll stay here for a while. I'm sure Cousland won't be long either. Calenhad is as cold as void."

She was still touching his arm when Alistair's hand brushed against her own, two sets of fingers entangling in a quick, skittish gesture. It lasted just for a moment, both parties exploring a sudden and newfound interest in their own shoes. Trinne's were caked in mud, as she discovered, her cheeks burning up. She let the embarrassment wash over her, she welcomed it, and even enjoyed it. But she'd rather fight two Ogres at once than meet Alistair's gaze right now. Finally the templar broke the silence by clearing his throat. Was his voice a little squeakier than usual or did she imagine it? "Um, I'd better go," he said. "I'm pretty sure if I'm going to apologize one more time, Harvey will just skewer me.” He gingerly put the thing he was holding in his left hand on top of the pile of clothes. It was an empty scabbard. Then he glanced towards the lake one last time. "Just make sure he doesn't drown, okay?" 

"Can do!" Trinne replied a bit too quickly, clenching and unclenching her palm. Only when Alistair was gone she realized her swimming abilities left a lot to be desired. Hopefully this doesn't come up.

Thankfully, Cousland turned out to be a quite decent swimmer, but that also made the wait really, really boring. Between the moist ground, overwhelming smell of fish and seagulls that ignored her because she had no food to offer, there was only so much she could entertain herself with. Finally, after the third time she promised herself she'd give him another fifteen minutes and then just leave him be, she realized the swimming silhouette was slowly getting closer. When Harvey finally reached the shore, Trinne had to purge her mind from seeing another walking corpse clumsily emerging from the depths. Cousland was soaked, pants clinging to his legs making him look spindly. His skin was pale, with an unhealthy hint of blue.

The rogue stumbled, but managed to right himself before Trinne could react. She approached him slowly. He was alive, definitely alive. Just exhausted. "Are you alright?" She prodded.

He moved past her, still wobbly, sparing her maybe half of a glance. "Do I look like I'm holding a sword?" When she didn't reply, he shook his head, wet hair brushing the base of his neck. "Then spare me.” He picked up his shirt.

"Spare you what, me being concerned?!” She couldn't believe she postponed sleep for this. "You're being very pleasant today.”

"My family sword is on the bottom of the LAKE.” He bellowed back at her, voice coarse and Trinne flinched, because it was the first time she heard Cousland raise his voice to such extent. He was pointing towards the murky waters, hand trembling from either cold or anger, she wasn't sure. A piece of weed untangled itself from his hair, landing on his face. "So no, I'm not alright." He answered her question properly this time. "Nothing's alright."

This was a long night, Trinne thought. Full of unpleasantness. It was still continuing, even after dawn. "Look, I'm sorry about that." She massaged the bridge of her nose. She was going for a placatory tone, but she was tired and her teeth were clenching on their own. "But you talked with Alistair, and I talked with Alistair. He says it was an accident, and I agree. He even tried to get it back, you know he couldn't just go in the water with all that armor."

"Maybe he should have.” Harvey snapped back.

Trinne's patience was now fumes, scattered in the wind. And her core was boiling, Alistair's lingering touch a kindle to her anger. She threw hands in the air - because Maker be her witness she had tried - and then cradled them in front of her. "Oh, poor you! I'm so sorry you gave Alistair your family sword for safekeeping, I'm SO sorry he used it to defend ALL these people. I'm so sorry it got wedged in one of the undead corpses, and I'm sooo sorry that corpse walked right back into the lake at dawn.” She mimed the shambling of an undead creature.

Harvey looked like she just slapped him. "You think this is funny?"

"Cousland, I haven't slept for two days, everything is either funny or tragic. And this was a too specific sequence of events to not fit both."

Something in the way his muscles tensed sent her mind right back to her Circle days, and she remembered a story of how one of mages of Lucrosian fraternity brought back to the Tower an unusual prize - a caged bird of prey. It was such a novelty a few younger students snuck out that night and teased the bird, pocking it with sticks. One of the boys' names was Gavin, she remembered. They called him Gavin Four Fingers after that.

If he comes at me, I will fight him. She decided. No matter if her magic was tapped out at the moment. She will wallop his ass until he sees reason. He looked like he was barely standing anyways.

But Harvey did not lunge. Instead, the rogue stood still, as his eyes glazed over, looking past her shoulder towards the water. He visibly deflated, grabbing his armor, and started putting it on without a word.

She watched him buckle the brown leather and tighten it with laces for a minute or two. Then do the same with his belt and weapons. When the rogue reached for his shoes, still in complete silence, Trinne rolled her yes.

"Oh come on Cousland, I'm throwing you a bone here! If you're angry, vent, come at me, whatever! You'll feel better.”

He put on a boot, took a deep breath, took the boot off and removed a few stray pebbles. "Amell, give me one reason I should stay.” He said.

"Cousland?" Now it was her turn to feel as if she'd been struck. Trinne's mind grasped for context, skimming through bits of past conversations, searching for clues. Nothing. Where did this come from? Was this really about the sword...it couldn't be about the sword. Cousland was quiet and did what was expected of him, and usually even well beyond that. And the way he said it, absent was the dry tone she began to associate with rare attempts at humor the rogue was sometimes capable of. He was being serious. Trinne didn't realize she sat down. "I know you're angry at Alistair, but that doesn't mean...”

He raised his hand sharply and cut her train of thought. "To the void with Alistair, I know it's not his fault. This is on me. The history of six generations rests on the bottom of the lake because I lent what wasn't mine to begin with. So please tell me what should I do now."

His family. Trinne felt embarrassed that she'd forgotten. Though maybe that wasn't the best way to put it. Every day they were either running or fighting indescribable horrors. And with all the Fade business it really felt like years have passed. And she regretted that her hesitation only seemed to reaffirm something for the noble, as his green eyes hardened.

"My family, everything that they were, will disappear like the sword." He said, hands tightening around empty scabbard. "Howe will lie, and people won't speak up because we just lost Ostagar and there is more important conflict at hand. As long as Coastlands are stable and can support the war effort, then it can wait. Also, it might even be better that way, we did fall under Amaranthine's rule after all, a long time ago, so it's just back to the way it used to be." Frustration was rolling off of him in waves. "I can't let it end like this, and while I'm here I can't do anything." 

"Harvey," Trinne started softly, a little overwhelmed by the turn this conversation was taking. "We're Grey Wardens now, we took an oath..."   "Don't remind me." He shook his head. "Does a new duty make an older one obsolete now? I didn't agree to this. I didn't."

Well, that wasn't the right approach. She tried to use an argument that she thought would appease him, but this wasn't their regular dance of quips and jabs, and she was lost. What would their group do if he really left? Would he really go? Would they even manage to stop him? Would she try to stop him? Maybe it wasn't even that deep, maybe he just wanted someone to listen. "What would you do, If you could go?" She asked him apprehensively. "I don't know." Harvey trailed off. Both boots were on now, but he made no attempt to get up. "I'd find Fergus first, give him the sword, if I still had it. Travel north, help him gather the remainder of Cousland troops, rally local banns. Bryce Cousland was a fair man, there are surely those that remain loyal to the family. Then we would go after Howe, I assume, take back the castle..."

Trinne squinted at him. "This is an oddly specific plan to follow after 'I don't know'. How many times did you consider leaving?”

"A few.” Harvey confessed.

They sat together, shoulder to shoulder, so close she could almost feel the coldness of the lake still emanating from him. She sympathized, but what he wanted to accomplish was out of her field of expertise. Advice wise, if he asked her how to arc a lightning bolt to hit three darkspawn at once, she'd be more than happy to share. But right now she was grasping at straws. Finally, instead of politics, she reached towards a more basic truth.

"Nobles have their own code of honor, don't you.” She said. Trinne herself was technically nobility, but was too young when she arrived at the Circle to take away much from it. "I'm not sure if they would take kindly to a Grey Warden who shirks from their responsibilities, especially during the Blight. When it comes to credibility, I mean.” She shrugged apologetically, not to antagonize him, but because she thought that was the truth. "Just sayin'"

There was a long pause when he tried to refute her, but finally shrugged his shoulders. "They wouldn't, would they? I don't have anything to counter that.”

"I don't think so. It might even make it worse for your brother. But I haven't finished yet.” Trinne put her finger up. "They would listen to someone who helped stop the Blight, I think.”

"And how long will that take?” He responded with a sour smile. It tugged on his lips without reaching the eyes. "I know stories, I know there were blights that lasted decades, if not longer. No, Howe needs to pay before that.”

"Right now, I'm not sure you could do anything else. If it's...if it's the memory of your family you're worried about, the only thing you can do is try to do good things while carrying their name. It must count for something." Maker, why was it getting so hard to talk.

Again they sat in silence, looking at the lake. Wind finally picked up, and small waves were crashing against the stones. Trinne blinked away the burning sensation beneath the eyelids. It finally hit her what was missing from the bigger picture.

"Cousland, you are such a dumbass, you know that?? It's you, you, you. Doing everything by yourself. You'd go off looking for allies when you have a perfectly fine bunch here."

He seemed taken aback by that. "Amell, you don't owe me anything."

"Nonsense!" She cut him off. "You helped me save the Circle, and believe me when I say I don't love the place, but I wouldn't want to see it become a flaming pile of abominations either. So if you can't do your thing the proper way, we'll just have to do it our way." "That's not reassuring, we're barely...” he started. Again, she didn't let him finish. "The only thing I want to hear from you is whether you want Howe done rare or medium, because I will fry that bastard in his own bed for you, you have my word.”

"Trinne..."

She rolled her eyes. What a stubborn man.

"Cousland, listen, we will get him. I don't know where, I don't know when, but we will. Trust me on this." She paused, returning to the problem at hand. "And I'm really, really sorry about your sword. I really am. This is such a stupid thing to have happened.” She bit her lip, calculating, counting how many undead corpses she saw littering Redcliff, how many were already on the pyre the villagers erected to burn all of the remains down. She thought how many monsters might've retreated back inside the Calenhad.

"Look, we might be able to last one more night. If the blade is still wedged inside the corpse, it will just come out again tonight, wouldn't it?"

He was already shaking his head. "You're playing a very unfair game, Amell."

"What, no! I'm being completely serious. We killed most of them, right? So whatever wave comes out tonight, it can't as bad.” She paused, pursing her lips. "Unless... whatever lives inside the castle can summon more demons, and who knows how many corpses are buried at the bottom of the lake. Hmmmm.” She trailed off unhappily. Don't you just hate it when you kill your own argument.

So far Cousland's face went from doubt, skimmed confusion and was following her little tirade with an emotion she couldn't quite place.

"What, why are you looking at me like that? It's just a thought.” As his eyes lingered on her face, Trinne felt the heat invading her cheeks once more, this time for a different reason. Their defense did well last night, it wasn't a stretch they could keep Redcliff safe for a while. He didn't have to be weird about it.

Finally, the rogue awkwardly raked a hand through his hair. "Trinne I...if I said yes to something like this, I'm certain the six generations of Couslands I mentioned would rise from their ashes just to haunt me at night, my father first in line."

She huffed, arms crossed. "You're impossible to please, you know that?” "On the contrary. Duty should always be towards people, not towards things." He got up, took a deep breath and let it out, marking the end of this conversation. "We should go. And you should really get some rest." He tilted his head. "Did you know your right eye starts twitching when you're really tired?" Rude! "Well, and you have to find a change of pants because yours are soaked." She was definitely tired, because that jab wasn't even half as good as she thought it would be. "Just promise me you won't saunter off while I'm asleep, alright?" She finally caved. He nodded, but didn't comment. "We do need to figure out what to do next. Maybe it's time to visit the Redcliff castle."

Trinne yawned. "On this we both agree."

[zephyrbcll]

Zephyr/Remus DM thread 3

Date: April 5th, 1980 Word count: 18,073 Notes: Otherwise known as ‘the adulting dm’ 

Remus:

There was nothing that unsatisfied Remus like waiting irritably and dwindling his thumbs. Remus has read the same line from his book five times as his mind drifted to the Order meeting he was missing. He knew the empty chair would be loud enough and wondered if Fabian or Moody had clued in the reason of Remus’ lack of appearance. It still made his blood boil from the last week of being unable to do anything except read the articles. His fury led him to charge candidly into the Auror Department as well as the Regulation Department. Both had bit his temperament to bed and Remus was trying to gather his wits.  Already the news of Remus Lupin basically admitting himself for being a werewolf at the Ministry had reached the ears of his job and Remus barely contained himself there when his boss gently waved him off. There was nothing left for him and Remus felt like bargaining with himself. If he couldn’t be employed or do Order missions then what was left. Remus only raised his chin slightly when the door creaked open. He was practically immobile on the couch, setting his book down in his lap and gave Zephyr a raised brow. There was a hint of a welcoming smile but the recent events had stolen any sense of him. “Anything interesting tonight?”

Zephyr:

"You weren't there, so of course not." Dear god, did he want to yell at some of those idiots. Zephyr knew that he probably didn't have as much right to be angry as some, he hadn't been in the country for a full year and he didn't know everyone as well as others did, but he'd still liked Reg and now he was dead. He liked Peter, he was Zephyr's favorite of Remus' friends, and just because there were people that could boast closer connections didn't negate the anger that swirled through him or the uselessness. Shit like this was what he'd come to Great Britain to stop and yet each issue of the Prophet only drove home how ineffective the Order seemed to be lately. "Well, I might have yelled at a few people, but it wasn't actually productive yelling. More just emotional venting," Zephyr admitted with a sigh as he crossed the floor to the couch and reached out to place his fingers lightly beneath Remus' chin before bending over quickly and kissing him hello. "There aren't any leads on... fucking anything. No sign of Dorcas or the others, no clue who jumped Reg or why he was a thief, it's like we're all blind for all the good we're doing." Dropping down into the space next to Remus, Zephyr turned his head to look at him curiously, pretty sure he hadn't told him anything new or anything that he actually wanted to hear. "How about you, baby? Anything interesting with you tonight? You can tell me about your day while I make tea, if you want, I think it would be a nice change of pace."

Remus:

“I’m sure you don’t mean that,” Remus answered hastily, his brows frowning at Zephyr. They had both met at the Order meetings and Remus had been to enough to know each one carried unfortunate wright. It was not enough that his friends were dying and missing but his own life was at stake and he was raising it every day. Every single day Remus had felt his friends pitying him over and over again and the tainted realization of him being at the Ministry had affected him. “Might have? Emotional venting? I would be careful with that. I hear Moody isn’t prospective to that any longer.” The book closed in his lap and his finger trailed lines over the cover distractedly as he felt Zephyr’s movement change in front of him. He greets the kiss and wants to chase it more but feels his blood chill at his words. Lately, no updates had been just as worse as updates themselves. Remus didn’t know if they were still missing or just waiting to be found. “I don’t know how we started losing so intensely...they-I think at least we owe a debt to those families that have been crossed...” Remus feels Zephyr move and barely registers the question. “...I got-I got fired today-I-I guess my boss was smarter-...I don’t know what...I don’t  know what I am-sorry, I know that’s probably not what you meant-I’m tired of sitting...”

Zephyr:

"Honestly, I'm surprised he didn't throw something at me. He might have if it wasn't obvious that I'm not the only one that feels fucking frustrated with how things are going lately. Ever since that awards ceremony, it's like we can't catch our breathe." He sounded old, like he wasn't some sort of radical, but a professional that has been at their job long enough to sound jaded. Dear god, he sounded like some of the people his mother worked with. He didn't want to admit it out loud, but it did feel like they were losing and he didn't like that, especially not since defeat had never really occurred to him as a possibility before. How odd to realize that now. "As much as part of me wants to keep barreling in to fights, the truth is that if we don't watch out, we'd going to end up running into a trap and besides, you and I both know how hard it is to lose someone. Something needs to be done about that somehow." It seemed like no matter what they did, they were screwed. "You were fired? Shit." Zephyr had heard about the registration, of course, it seemed like that article headline was blaring at him no matter where he went and he'd very nearly gotten into a fight when he heard someone say something about monsters being locked up. Werewolf rights was not a cause Zephyr had ever pictured himself championing, but damn it, if people were going to use the bill as an excuse to start trashtalking them, then he just might start throwing punches. But in that moment, his hands were unclenched and his touch was light as he reached over to grab Remus' hand, not actually sure how to comfort him or what to suggest considering how idiotic the world had become overnight. "Don't apologize to me for that, baby. I'm sorry about your job, okay? Look, you're tired of sitting? You want to go somewhere with me? We can get you moving while you tell me what you want to do now. Do you want to find another job somewhere?"

Remus:

It was hard for Remus to listen to Zephyr talk knowing why he wasn’t at the Order meeting and was not surprised when there were no updates. Everyone was sharing the same frustrations and patience was running thin. “You mean Moody? I don’t think he’s the type...No-you’re right you aren’t the only one...Look-um...,” Remus began, sighing as he tried to get his words together. He had not gone into detail yet of why he was sitting on the couch and not being at the Order meeting, simply shrugging it of as being something Moody wanted for temporary reasons. “I...I might have been too frustrated with-with everything and I went to the Auror Department...yelled at Prewett-Fabian. I don’t know....” Remus pauses and rubbed his hand over his face exhausted. “I yelled at my dad too...Kingsley had to-I just thought you should know why...I wasn’t there tonight-Moody said my emotions are guiding me right now.” When he was done talking, his eyes found the floor and didn’t dare to look up. Saying it all aloud only made him tense and more frustrated with himself. He was a loose canon and couldn’t be trusted. Remus knew some might be a short minute away from putting a muzzle on him. Remus only nodded along to Zephyr’s words, already feeling like the fighting at the Ministry had caused him to sit down for a moment and think. This wouldn’t be what his mother would want or even Marlene. He needed to be patient for Peter and Dorcas’ return but he was boiling now. Remus stood up as gracefully as he could, his hand rubbing at the back of his neck and faced away. He was letting his emotions control his actions and now he was out of work. The man was kind and honest and Remus only did so in return, not wanting to rip his head off with his words like he did Fabian and his father. Remus knew sitting out of a meeting or two would be good for him but now time seemed to slow when he wasn’t behind his counter doing something for himself.

“Yes and I-I’m fine, alright? I just...It’s for the best.” He squeezed Zephyr’s hand in return and swallowed hard, his eyes gazing down. Remus finally looked up and laughed at his own expense, letting the hand he was holding with fall to his side. “I don’t know what I want to do now. I don’t know what I need to do now. No job will want me-no Wizarding job at least. I read the article same as everyone else-I haven’t even bloody signed the damn thing but I might as well be signing it with my blood. I can’t go to Azkaban-,” Remus was talking and out of breath, beginning to pace lightly. “No one will want me. Not when they know what I am. My father is not the only who thinks I deserve the Dementor’s kiss. I should have said yes to Dumbledore about the professor job instead of yelling at him-“ Remus stalled, his next words stopping in his throat and blinked at Zephyr. It had been months since Dumbledore came to him and Remus agreed. It felt like so long ago that Remus felt like he was only being led on a leash if he were to accept the job. He partly wish he had now given the circumstances and all things considered. Remus bit his lip hard enough to taste blood and turned hesitantly to walk to the kitchen.

Zephyr:

Considering the terrible news that filled the Prophet day after day, the deaths and disappearances all stacking up, Zephyr couldn't blame Remus in the least for being rustrated and wouldn't question anyone that said they weren't. He would also be a hypocrite if he judged anyone for being frustrated, his temper pushing him into a gym and in the direction of a punching bag until his arms wanted to give out. The first night he talked to Remus, really talked, they'd discussed anger and how to deal with it and Zephyr's tactics hadn't really changed that much, except he went to a gym instead of picking fights and throwing himself headfirst into trouble without regard for his own safety, mostly because he was pretty sure if he walked away with his head still attacked to his shoulders, Remus just might bite it off because he was stupid. So yelling at someone seemed understandable and Zephyr didn't immediately respond as he tried to picture Remus walking into the auror's offense and yelling. "Can I point something out?" He asked, although it was a good bet that they both knew he was going to keep going regardless. "One of your best friends is missing, along with other people, another of your best friend's just lost his brother, to name just one dead, and your dad just pulled a dick move that requires you to get registered like some kind of show poodle, which is really dehumanizing and the rest is just depressing. So I think you have three pretty damn good reasons to be emotional. I'd be more worried if you weren't emotional," Zephyr admitted, rubbing at Remus' knuckles. "But I do appreciate you telling me because no one told me a damn thing, just that we were going without you. So what, they've fucking benched you and put you in timeout until you cool off, is that what I'm supposed to be getting from this?"

That was insulting if he was reading the situation right and Zephyr was doing his best to keep his mouth shut and actually let Remus vent before going back over the entire thing with his own commentary. Was it too soon to get out the whiskey? Because it already seemed like it would be one of those conversations and Zephyr didn't bother to hide his frown at the idea that Remus being fired was 'for the best', especially not having hearing Remus talk about how good his job was. "You're not fucking going to Azkaban." Zephyr said, serious and uncompromising, the very idea of losing Remus to that place dragging out and instant denial. "Your father might be a bigoted asshole, but not everyone thinks like that. Dumbledore doesn't. The people I sat with tonight don't. Not everyone in the world is a clueless dick that's going to judge you without thought." And he still couldn't believe that Remus' boss had fired him after all this time, when he knew the kind of word Remus did and that he was a good person. Irritated at Remus' situation (he wasn't irritated at Remus, he understood the difference and hoped Remus realized it as well), Zephyr stood up to follow Remus into the kitchen and grabbed for two mugs, although he wasn't sure yet if they were for tea or whiskey. "Look, I'm not saying it will be an easy time for you to get a job or that you won't have to get a muggle job for a while, but don't go assuming the worst of everyone just yet, okay? Now, do we want tea or whiskey and what's this about Dumbledore and a professor job?"

Remus:

The recent articles and news that arrived unwelcome had shifted almost everything in Remus’ life and everything had only shifted this week. It was like he was being suffocated, his chest tightening every time he heard more bad news. There didn’t seem like there was even a glimmer of hope as he felt more buried by the deaths. His friends were dying and missing around him and Remus felt useless and helpless, frantically wanting to pull a solution out of a hat and get rid of the war entirely. He had nursed a glass of whiskey when Erika came home and tried to comfort Sirius the best he could but every act felt useless. He knew there wouldn’t be an end to this damned war anytime soon and expected the worse had yet to knock on his door. Remus felt disappointed in himself and after confessing him being rogue with his feelings he would understand if Zephyr was as well. “Yes, I know-I know. But I-I can’t just be emotional and I shouldn’t have. I...if I hadn’t I wouldn’t be sitting here being useless.” His hand tightened and Remus couldn’t even put into words how his father’s face stilled when Remus came in and argued his point. “So what? Zephyr I’m one argument away from being detained-I’m sure if it had been anyone else who did that in the Auror Department they wouldn’t be so lucky.”

Remus was twisting his fingers in his hair after spilling out his words. He would have thought he was under the Veritaserum again but he was shaking with frustration. There was not a day he had thought about signing his name down before the registration and he especially didn’t want to now considering the laws and implication not to mention the discriminatory that would only escalate when he signed his name on a public record. Remus didn’t even meet Zephyr’s gaze, just feeling himself tense. It didn’t seem as if he had a choice with the alternative. “Everyone will now, though. Don’t you see? Werewolves are clearly not on the right side of the war right now and everyone will just assume we are one in the same. I might as well have been there that night.” It was the truth and Remus had felt more like a victim of war than before. He was not there when Marlene and her family suffered but he felt a twinge of guilt knowing that monster was him as well. Remus worries his lip and turned his back, his hands resting on the counter and tried to regain his steady breath. “The bookstore wasn’t a very high profile job and they don’t even want me. I’m forbidden to work at the Ministry...not that I would-“ Remus stopped and leaned against the counter, crossing his arms. It had been months ago and Remus had only told Marlene and now that secret had died with her. Remus’ lips twitched into a frown at holding onto the secret for so long and not being honest with Zephyr. “I-um...Dumbledore...he invited me to teach at Hogwarts. Be the new Dark Arts professor...He started asking about...the Order and Fenrir. I knew he just wanted me close to him for his own reasons...not for any other reason surely.” Remus fell into silence and closed his eyes and reminded himself to breath. “Whiskey is fine.”

Zephyr:

The use of his name prompted an odd reaction out of him, it made him sit up just a little straight, jaw go a little tighter as if he was paying more attention to the situation even though he'd been paying attention before. The use of his name instead of something else wasn't something he'd call a rare occurrence, but in that moment, it made things feel even more dire and made him view Remus more as someone panicking than anything else. And what was even worse was Remus had legitimate concerns and there wasn't any easy answer, he couldn't make it all better, and he hated that. He wanted to protect Remus, but dear god, it was like the world didn't want to let him. "You know me, I think it's healthy to let things out. I think sometimes you just need to punch something or break something to blow off steam, but yeah, fine, I admit that maybe you didn't have the best timing for it, that it wasn't the appropriate place. But give Moody time and you'll be back in the meetings. Focus on that, okay? Focus on proving Moody wrong instead of what you did wrong. And yeah, maybe they'd keep you overnight or something for losing your cool, but do you think you're the only person to get upset over a loss and storm the aurors office? Or the only one to get upset over a bill and protest? You didn't throw any punches and that's not enough to throw away the key for, not when it seems like some people are on the verge of fucking riots."

Of all the ways for Marlene to die, by a fucking werewolf attack had to be the worst and Zephyr had known that would tear Remus up. It sometimes seemed like he wanted to carry the weight of every terrible decision made by a werewolf on his shoulders and that wasn't fair at all, but Zephyr didn't know how to change his mind. "You're right. People are scared and if they know, they're going to take it out on you. But that's because they're scared people that are taking the easy target and they're not holding the right people responsible. It's not your fault and if anyone bothers you about it, you know you have a team of people that will punch them in the face because you deserve better even if you think you don't. That attack was not your fault and she wouldn't want you to blame yourself, so don't." He insisted, convinced he was right that Marlene wouldn't want Remus to feel guilty about it. Moving to the cabinet with the whiskey, Zephyr grabbed the bottle and didn't bother trying to get actual glasses, instead pouring a healthy serving directly into a mug and pushing it in Remus' direction before pouring some in his own mug. "I don't know, you seem like you could be a good teacher to me. It's not like he asked you to teach potions, so it's not like you'd be incompetent. But why is he asking about the order? Isn't he supposed to be top guy in charge?"

Remus:

Nothing was optimistic right now for Remus and everything was stained with blood. Everywhere seemed like it was crowded with bodies showing up, some familiar faces and some not. Everyone was innocent and being targeted for what they were. Remus was afraid for them and himself. This was a grim time for him to be experiencing and didn’t know if he can handle another body dropping. He was aware of his friends still missing and were somewhere out there. Already he had assumed they were dead just in case if they did show up mangled Remus would already be mourning. Remus couldn’t make eye contact now with Zephyr, his angered words slipping out of him with a projected tone and bite that sounded not like him. “Marlene thinks-thought that too. Said swinging a bat helped...I don’t think it’s the therapy that works for me.” He gave a tight and reassuring smile that Zephyr was at least trying to diffuse the tension built in his shoulders. “Moody thinks I’m a wild card...if I did even one more thing that jeopardizes my trust with him I won’t just be benched I will he removed. The biggest threat is myself...I dont have any names on my list to go off on but I’m sure I can find a few Death Eaters to match it with. People are rioting and shouting and I can’t even focus on that. Surely they have enough wits to change it but I don’t think they will.”

If Marlene had died another way this possibly could have been avoided but he couldn’t point and choose freely how people would die. Remus knew what people that about werewolves originally but the attacks was only stirring the pot. Remus knew during school and just by eavesdropping that some people thought they should be locked up and not be given rights. It was twelve year olds saying it and now it was grown men in power saying it. His own father had said he deserves death and Remus didn’t favor their dirty laundry being printed for everyone. “Trust me I can handle their comments. Words is not what I am afraid of. It’s what people hide behind when they are cowards. What I’m afraid of is in a month’s time being carted off to Azkaban for not signing their precious fucking paper. Violence isn’t what we’re supposed to be stressing ourselves over. If we punch back we are more in common...and I can’t-I won’t let anyone do that. I can fight my own battles...my father won’t change his mind. I saw it on his face. Doesn’t matter how many people reject it or rally against it. But it could have been! It could have been me that night. Merlin, I don’t know where I was that night. I could have killed someone and not know-if someone comes anywhere near me when I am that thing it might be the last time. The only difference between me and those that did attack her is i haven’t killed anyone. Don’t you see that?” Remus was shaking with anger, his fists curled by his sides before running a hand across his face to help sooth the frustration away. He could hear Marlene’s voice in his mind telling him none of that was true but it was. He was the same as them but the only difference was he did not have the will to kill but he could. His teeth were just as sharp and his claws would be just as lethal.

Remus crossed his arms over his chest and stared at the ground. “I don’t know if I want to teach anymore...have nothing to teach second years except defense spells that seem redundant to what I’m facing...Dumbledore...he asked about my missions. I think he wanted me closer to him to whisper in his ears.” Remus took the offered mug full of whiskey and braced himself against the bitter taste that filled his mouth. “I...I know I shouldn’t have yelled at him. Haven’t heard anything since.”

Zephyr:

"I don't..." God, he hated admitting this, hated feeling useless when Remus needed him, or at least needed something, but Zephyr was always going to give Remus honesty to matter how unpleasant it tasted on his tongue. "I don't know what kind of therapy works for you, but we can figure it out. If you say that's not what it takes, then okay, I'll cancel plans to take you to a gym and introduce you to a punching bag." Zephyr didn't think it was always enough to train with magic, he'd gotten into enough fist fights that he believed in physical training as well and Zephyr's mom had always told him not to trust his opponent and had likely taught him spells he wasn't supposed to know. It was unlikely she knew that her protectiveness and her rulebreaking would come in handy during a war, but teaching him to be good in a fight wasn't helping Zephyr in that moment. "Can he actually do that to you? That doesn't seem fair, how can he just stop someone that wants to fight?" He knew Moody was important, head auror with a good reputation and age seniority, but still. Sighing, Zephyr dragged a hand through his hair and couldn't help the thought that there was unlikely to be anyone in the order that didn't have an issue with a death eater.

"You're not going to have a choice but to sign it, are you?" He didn't want to see Remus forced to do that, but considering Lyall Lupin's place in the department, Remus was a known factor and couldn't pretend that he wasn't a werewolf. "Are you going to start blaming yourself for things you could do? Dear god, I could go out and murder someone, you don't need to be a werewolf for that. You have flashes, right? You remembered enough about that night with Fenrir to tell me about it, you really think you wouldn't remember something about that night with Marlene? Besides, I doubt the McKinnon home is anywhere near where you changed or where you woke up and there probably would have been blood on you. You're careful, you're not like the ones that got Marlene, so don't go around charging yourself for crimes you haven't committed. Being able to kill doesn't make you a killer, baby." Zephyr didn't know if Remus was in a state to hear that or if he was too torn up by Marlene's death to do anything but let his guilt eat himself up as he mourned. Regardless, Zephyr was going to be there to held ground Remus in reality even if he didn't like it.

"If you were a teacher, you'd be facing second years. You'd be trying to help them understand things like disarming spells so maybe they'd have a chance to run if someone comes after them at home, I think that's something to teach. But that's not the point. You think that Dumbledore... what, wanted you to inform on the Order for you?" That didn't sound good and Zephyr frowned as he sipped at his own whiskey, fingers tapping against the ceramic. Zephyr didn't have the strong feelings it seemed like everyone shared for Dumbledore and didn't have any trouble questioning his motives, wondering just why the hell he wanted Remus to be his fly on the wall. He knew Dumbledore had given Remus a mission, so asking about that wouldn't have been odd, but clearly something needed to be off for Remus to notice it. Maybe Dumbledore didn't trust Moody? "From what I've heard, Dumbledore is supposed to be a pretty important person, so is it actually unusual not to hear from him? Or is he out of contact with everyone?" Zephyr asked, trying to make sure he had the full picture. "I'm trying not to jump to conclusions, but you're making it sound like something is off."

Remus:

Remus hung his head and was fuming with the irritation built up over the past week. He hadn’t meant to expand upon it when Zephyr came home and should have put a foot in his mouth. This is why he didn’t humor people with his bitter thoughts as he saw Zephyr fumble over what to say. “A punching bag-I will day that’s probably better but not in the best interest...I don’t know what to do but anything is better than this.” He didn’t know what this was but vaguely put it as torturing himself with selfish thoughts during the war and worrying over the edge about his friends and funeral arrangements. That first night he chose drinking over punching something and he was sure to do it again but there was only so many times he could do that. “I don’t know what the problem is-I’m fighting aren’t I? Thought I was doing a better job than some but...’suppose I shouldn’t be fighting those in the Order...Moody is the one more in touch with Dumbledore and if he thinks I’m a risk then perhaps I am.” Remus had felt like his advantages were being stolen from him and he didn’t know what to do next. He should be out there fighting, at the meetings where he could be beneficial. He didn’t even know when he was meant to return and it was drastically making his importance not levied.(edited)

Remus beat the silence with a few answers but sighed as if defeated. Already he had laid out each consequence to his action if he did or didn’t sign it and had concluded there was only so little to be done. They had managed to weasel in this registration which plagued him. It was the worst case scenario. If he did sign it he would be agreeing to audacious ridiculing terms for the ministry of which he couldn’t get behind. If he didn’t sign it they would lock him in Azkaban where the dementors would await his fate. There was nothing he could do and even in the bleak cress of the moment he didn’t know any other alternative. He could go to Dumbledore but he couldn’t run from the Ministry forever. “I...I don’t know,” Remus said weakly, his tone trying to come up with something on the whim. “I can’t...I can’t run. They know who I am and where I live-but I can’t sign it. The Ministry...has had a file on me since I was bit. My father is in the department and a public figure. The Ministry knows who I am and what I am but I have to be the one that signs the document...I don’t know what to do.” Remus only wish everything that happened to him would have some sway with his father but that didn’t turn out well. It turned out just as he thought it would and cursed under his breath, dragging his hands to his eyed and sighing heavily.  The anger felt pent up in him and he turned suddenly with hurt mixed in his eyes.

“Gods, fuck I know that. But humans are not the same as werewolves-yes, you can go out and kill someone but if I so much as say I’m a werewolf I don’t have to kill anyone. They would gladly put a stake through my heart if they could. Yes, I have blurred memories and I wasn’t there-I know that...but they’re going to group me in anyway. It’s what they do-it’s, Fuck, it’s what they’ve already done. I was placed on a life sentence when I was bit when I was five and ever since then I’ve just been in purgatory....in school they said werewolves were primitive and monsters-it’s in the monsters chapter to be fair. I don’t have to kill anyone for people to blame me the second they know what I am.”

“I don’t think I would last in that school teaching...I know I would be alright. I don’t have any experience and unprepared for that...I’m sure Dumbledore found someone better without any risks invited to it.” That day seemed out of focus now and Remus stayed silent, weighing his words carefully. “I think he just wanted me close. To make sure I was okay...Took it the wrong way suppose...I look like a right idiot now don’t I? Could have a job-a real job and now...well what’s the point anyway?” Remus sipped timidly at his drink and let it steal his thoughts. Everything seemed like a game of chance now and every missed step would bring him two steps back. Since he was a child he looked up to Dumbledore like any child would do a great and powerful wizard. He recalled believing he wouldn’t be able to go to Hogwarts and then was invited by the Headmaster himself. It dented the picture of himself he had made in his room when he was alone about himself. Now, Remus had been searching for ways since to say thank you or feel like he owed Dumbledore something. He knew he should have accepted the professor role and took it in stride, not looking back. “He tries to keep in touch with the Order. Not so much now. I’m not...I’m not trying to. I trust Moody even if I’m constantly pissed at him. If anyone’s talking to Dumbledore it’s him.”

Zephyr:

"You know my methods. Fighting, drinking, sex, that's usually what I do when keeping my hands busy doesn't calm me down. I don't know what to suggest for you yet, but I'll learn and the drinking is probably a good start. I seem to remember smoking with you, too. I guess it depends on what calms you down. Do you need something to keep your brain busy or something that occupies your mouth or your entire body. Maybe jogging is your thing, maybe just soaking in a bubble bath or doing math, I have no fucking idea, but we'll work on it." He probably should have made more effort to figure it out after that first night, but the times he shared with Remus were good and his mood was better and somehow he didn't think of it again, which was stupid considering it wasn't like the source of their troubles had magically disappeared. "You know I'll tell you what's going on, right? You're not going to be in the dark and it's unrealistic to think that some of us won't get upset sometimes. If you just want me to sit here and listen, I can, but if you want me to talk to Moody and find out if there's something he wants to see from you or if he just wants you to sit out for a few days, I can do that, too." He wasn't going to talk to Moody or Fabian or anyone like that without Remus knowing about it, pretty sure that in the mood Remus was in, that would just earn yelling for interfering with his life. Which wasn't to say that he wouldn't ever do it, but not in this case.

Listening to Remus, he just sounded so defeated and Zephyr couldn't resist the urge to reach out and touch him, fingers curling around his arm and squeezing before slipping to Remus' back while Zephyr tipped his head, pressing a brief kiss to Remus' shoulder. "There's no group or magical lawyer working on fighting this? It was narrowly passed, right? Can't something be done to overturn it? You could move somewhere, but they'd find you again. I'm trying to think of a third option, but short of moving out of the country, I'm blanking. If they have a file on you, it sounds like you should already be tracked and they wouldn't need you to sign up, but who do I know, maybe they need your signature for some tracking spell of something. But I'm with you. Look, I know I'm shit at being useful right now, but I'm here and I'm listening." Zephyr reminded him, although he was soon enough left with the impression that he hadn't been listening hard enough. The moment Remus looked at him with hurt in his eyes, Zephyr felt terrible, beyond putting his foot in his mouth because he hadn't meant to say anything to put that look on Remus' face, not when he was in enough pain as it was. "Shit, baby, don't look at me like that. I'm sorry. You know I'd jump in front of that stake for you, right? it may not do much damn good, but I'm not going to let someone slander you just for being a werewolf, not even you. It's not right and you don't deserve it and maybe you're used to that, but you're not a monster. I swear, Remus, you're not. Now come here, okay?" Reaching out once more, this time Zephyr wrapped his arm around Remus' waist, stepping into his space and pressing a kiss to Remus' hair. He didn't know what to say or what to do to make it better and he hated it, he hated feeling like he was useless and like he was failing Remus, but he could at least hold him and try to understand.

"I think you'd do just fine teaching. You helped tutor people, didn't you? So that's experience right there and you'd have books to teach out of and if you needed help, I'm sure the others would help you make a lesson plan or whatever." Although Zephyr wasn't actually sure yet if going to work for Dumbledore was the best thing for Remus if he'd gotten a weird feeling from Dumbledore, he did think Remus had the makings of a decent professor. "I guess no matter how much we wish it to be otherwise, there's always gonna be shit going on that we don't know about with all of them. Dumbledore did ask a lot of you, but if you're a professor, would you really have that much freedom for the order? Although maybe he had some other role in mind for you. I don't know, but..." But the way people kept dying, no one could afford to have someone useful and willing sitting on the sidelines, but dear god, things were grim enough without thinking about it like that and Zephyr shook his head before sipping at his whiskey, feeling it burn all the way down. "You know, I bet you're not the only one that this has happened to, but not everywhere is firing people. Camilla still has her job and yeah, I know, she's a veela and not a werewolf, but my point was that I think she fucking owes people that lost their jobs, don't you think? Maybe get a list of places to put out their opinions on hiring werewolves and vampires and veelas, that way people without a job have some clue where to look."

Remus:

It was easy to remember the times that Remus would be excessively frustrated but school grades and dramas were less important than a war. Remus was being actively taken off from Order duties until he settled down and became calm again but there was no sense of knowing when that would be. Remus huffed in frustration, earning a small chuckle at Zephyr’s examples. “I remember. Told me the first day...Yeah, suppose that helps too. I think smoking and jogging are sort of counterproductive but I’m sure I’ll have a list of my own. When I was in school usually just walking around helped...otherwise. It’s not the first time I’ve…” A breath released from him and he gave a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. He wish that there were more possibilities that could sooth him like Zephyr had. There were times he felt like a waste of space or standing for someone else to come in and take his place. Being away from his job and now the Order only made him feel suffocated with want. There were many things he could be doing to help instead of waiting by dwindling his thumbs for news. “Of course...but no one else is-is doing whatever the fuck I’m doing. Moody didn’t even say when I could come back.” Remus glanced away impatiently, thinking of the Order and Moody only reached a frustrating core. It only made him run thinner with the idea he wasn’t ready if he was so quick to anger at the thought of them. “-No. I mean, no. Just...if I want to talk to Moody, I will. His intentions are...usually trusting. If he thinks it’s best then...this is what’s right. I will have to practice being calmer. That’s what he wants.”

The reassuring touch only felt like a mocking burn but Remus didn’t pull away, only dropping his gaze and leaning his forehead on Zephyr’s shoulder in defeat. His heart was hammering in his chest and his pulse was quick in his throat. “I don’t think fighting it will do any good. Things like this...actual government orders. It’s harder. It’s more delicate. There are people protesting it, but I do not think it wise...it’s natural to want to do something. I know my father. He’s always stayed true to his own self. Otherwise he would be working on something this minute which I doubt that above all things. I’ve thought...about everywhere I could go. Scotland, Austria...America. They would find me and it doesn’t matter...a file is different than a signature. I...I don’t have all the information and I wish I had.” There was only a few facts of information he knew and the Prophet articles only aided little. The options were scarce and Remus still didn’t know what he should do. The registration seemed like a faded white noise counting down his seconds while more things took center in his mind. Remus felt his chest rise with every bated breath from his pent up words. He didn’t mean for his words to become aggressive but in the short sentence of silence he raised his hand to cover his eyes tiredly. He remembered telling Zephyr what he was a couple of months ago and now feeling a twitch of guilt in his stomach over telling him. It passed as he looked back at Zephyr and shook his head. “No, if-if that happens you are far more important. Please, don’t. I am not asking for you to be heroic...I’m only being honest. I think monster is just an umbrella term for all werewolves after what happened to Marlene and-” Remus felt his words run dry in his mouth as he was pulled against Zephyr. For a moment he tried to restrain himself but instead his head sunk against his shoulder once more.  There were more like him that were dealing with the same problem and it was selfish of him to be ripped apart. It felt like each breath was a sip of air gulping into his lungs and he felt crumbled over Zephyr’s shoulder, his hand gripping at Zephyr’s back.

Remus was aware of what Zephyr was doing and barely smiled in return, only being appreciative of Zephyr’s suggestion. “Yes, you’re right. I did...but it’s different-it’s completely different. I wanted to do it back before I met with Dumbledore and now the want isn’t wanted. I can’t...and especially not. I don’t think any Wizarding school would be more kind to a werewolf professor. I have to abandon that thought…” It was like letting go of a ghost thought that he hadn’t even wanted until he had it. It was slipping from his fingers and now he wish he had taken the position. “I can’t...I can’t be that anymore. It wasn’t meant to be and there’s nothing good coming out of wanting it. So, please. Don’t remind me anymore.” Remus could feel the wheel of hope beginning to dwell and his eyes only landed on the glass in his hands. Maybe things were different if he had accepted it but it wouldn’t do any good. “It was-was humiliating…” He stilled when Zephyr mentioned Camilla and his lips twitched into a mocking smile. Camilla was the one who was wrapped around his father’s finger and the one who was pretending to know his family. She seemed to pretend to know what he was going through when she barely even scratched the surface.

“Don’t,” Remus warned, glancing back at Zephyr with some heat in his eyes. “She’s different and she knows that. Why else do you think she was campaigning for the registration to be done? She knew what she was doing so I don’t think it’s fair to sympathize with her.” Remus knew there would be times that he would get impatient with Zephyr or frustrated but didn’t think he would treat him the same as Fabian or Moody. The same irritation stirred but he controlled him simply by raising his drink to cover his lips. “If a bookstore or the Ministry doesn't want me I think everyone else will follow the same standard. It’s pointless.”

Zephyr:

Against his willing, Zephyr ended up snorting in amusement at the mental image of Remus trying to smoke and jog at the same time and had to grin at it briefly before returning to the seriousness of the conversation. Walking didn't seem like anything special or unique, but then again, who would have guessed folding paper was something that would help with Zephyr's temper? He wasn't going to judge and instead he nodded along, thinking about the garden trails that he'd seen advertised because they were opening for spring and sure there had to be a forest or something around that Remus could show him and they'd go hiking or something, maybe he could see where Remus spent the full moons if he didn't manage to completely piss Remus off. Holding up his hands as if in surrender, Zephyr wasn't about to try arguing for the right to talk to Moody because he'd already known that Remus wouldn't like the idea and while there may have been some subjects he'd push, that wasn't one of them. "Okay, fine, I wouldn't say anything to him. He probably didn't tell you when because he wasn't sure how long it would take you to calm down and control your temper. If you want to take up hiking, we can do that, if you want to practice meditating, we can do that. I hate admitting I have no clue what to do, but I'm going to support you, I hope you know that." Considering everything out of his mouth seemed to be making matters worse, Zephyr wasn't sure what to say beyond reminding Remus that he wasn't alone.

Taking advantage of the way Remus bowed his head, Zephyr ran his fingers through the hair at the nape of Remus' neck and squeezed reassuringly for a few seconds before letting go. "I hate them for doing this to you. I've questioned their decisions before, but this... christ, I don't need to tell you it's unfair. For what it's worth, MACUSA doesn't have a registry like this, but I'm not going to pretend for a single minute that I think you'd run." There were bound to be other people in the order that worked in the same department as Remus' dad that could get the information Remus wanted, but Zephyr didn't now if that would look strange or not. "Think there are people in your dad's department that fought back against it? If thee are, they could be a good start." He suggested and immediately biting down on his tongue because he'd meant to stop offering suggestions and solutions and instead just listen to Remus since he seemed to keep saying the wrong thing. It felt like there wasn't any solution to be found, but no matter how frustrating it was not to be able to fix the problem, it wasn't about him and what he wanted, it was about Remus and if all Zephyr could do was hold him and give him whiskey, that's what he'd do. "I'm not trying to be heroic, I'm trying to take care of the guy I'm in love with because you are what's important to me, okay? I don't know the right thing to say in situations like that and I'm going to fuck it up, but remember that much for me, okay?" It wasn't an excuse, he'd admit it if things came out wrong because he was learning about Remus' struggles as he went, but his end goal was the same. He loved Remus and he wanted Remus to be okay. He wondered if maybe Remus would feel better if he got drunk and cried and let himself mourn Marlene, but he didn't say that as Remus buried himself in his arms. Squeezing Remus tightly, Zephyr hand his hands fisted in the back of Remus' shirt as he turned his head to press his face against Remus' hair.

He wanted to fight back against the idea of Remus having to let go of what sounded like a dream of his, argue about the idea that Remus wouldn't be able to do something just because he was a werewolf. There was no goddamned reason why a Wizarding school shouldn't be kind to a werewolf professor unless it was staffed by idiots and racists and while Zephyr had always known the world and the people who governed the countries in it were flawed, never had he been so angry at the injustice as he was then. He wanted to argue about it, but Remus sounded so sad that he couldn't and Zephyr had to keep reminding himself that no matter how enraging he found things, no matter how upset and heartbroken he felt over Remus' stories, Remus was still the one feeling it and he was likely to feel so much worse. "I believe in you, but I won't remind you." Zephyr agreed quietly, feeling defeated and sipping quickly at his whiskey in an attempt to numb the hollowed out feeling in his chest and he was surprised when it ran empty. How had he ever finished it so quickly? Sighing, Zephyr reached for the bottle and poured more in his before adding to Remus' mug without even checking what he had left. It was humiliating. No one should get to do that to Remus and he set the bottle down before edging closer, side brushing up against Remus in quiet support. "Want to tell me what happened?" That way he'd know just how badly he wanted to punch Remus' former boss and if he wanted to break his nose if Zephyr ever saw the man again.

Really, he should have known that mentioning Camilla would be a mistake. If he had to name someone for Remus to have as an enemy, chances were that Camilla would be his first guess and normally Remus' distaste of her alone would be enough reason for Zephyr to keep his distance, but considering they worked together, that was a little hard. Besides, Remus had also given an opinion before that implied that Zephyr probably shouldn't start fights with people just because they upset Remus and that he probably shouldn't get himself fired. He really wished Remus would chance that policy, though. "Trust me, I'm not sympathizing with her. I'm saying she needs to take some goddamn responsibility. You really think I'm just going to forgive her for doing something like this to you? Because I'm not. I know this is hurting more than just you, but you're the one I'm concerned with. I hate the idea that it's going to be a trend to hate someone for something like this, but this country already has a problem with hating people for their blood. Maybe you will have to get a job in a muggle shop." The words tasted like ash in his mouth, like defeat, and Zephyr grit his teeth before huffing out a breath. "I wish I could just make them open their ideas and realize they're being idiots, but it's not that simple and I know that, just like I know that no matter how much I hate this, I don't get how hard it is on you. So I guess the real question is what do you want to do now?"

Remus:

Even at school in his adolesence he had managed to ground his temper and be void of it. If that was because he was agile in ignoring it or because it simply did not have the same gravity as it did now. At school he would walk around the castle just as he did now except it was familiar and some unfamiliar streets until his mind was cleared. Remus couldn’t trust himself to handle stressful situations in the moment. Already he had managed to find a way to be excluded from Order meetings and knew it wasn’t just because of his physical fight with Fabian at the Auror offices. It was something Remus did not pride himself on and thought lowly of. It would be hard to hone in on his frustration now. He knew what he had done had left a dent in whatever foundation relationship he had with Fabian and knew word would get around about what happened. Of course Fabian would tell Austen and perhaps Gideon of what happened, something that didn’t sit well in his stomach along with other sharpened feelings. When he saw that Zephyr was not being a threat he simply waved his hand dismissively and sighed. “Moody was vague. I suppose I have jurisdiction over when I can attend meetings again...or at least that was what was implied. I don’t-I don’t know what I want or need. You’re here. You’re helping me. Trust me.” Remus voice was thin as he locked his gaze with Zephyr to emphasize his reassurance. “Without you I would be starting fights with everyone.”

Remus head felt heavy as he leaned against Zephyr, his eyes shutting and trying to shut away other thoughts. There were few times that Remus got into a shrill panic over complicated matters and it was not the best place to see him. He knew it would be easy for Zephyr to push Remus away and tell him to stop behaving so foolishly like a child. It was what Remus was thinking of himself as well as that Zephyr shouldn’t see him like this. He sighed against the touch massaged at his neck and breathed shakily out. It was inevitable that this would happen and the small twinge of hope that Remus had for the Ministry was stolen when the registration came out. “They’ve been talking about doing this for years. Even when the government wasn’t counseling over it I heard about it at school. They think creatures are dangerous and they have proof we are,” Remus said flatly, not amused with how everything was being spun out. Of course Remus had thought about leaving the country several times but every time he did he knew that he would be apprehended eventually. Remus remembered being in his father’s department and how everyone seemed in their own headspace and not minding him at all. They were all focused on the registration and none of them seemed bothered by Remus’ presence or what they had done. Remus shook his head mutely against the suggestion, knowing it would be a waste of time to try and convince the people who did this to undo it. Remus bit his tongue, a frown forming in between his brows as he leaned against Zephyr

“I can’t fix what happened, alright? No one wants it to be fixed-I can’t do anything about it. I don’t want optimistic thoughts...nothing will be changed. At least not now.” His words were bordering harsh and Remus tilted his head back for a moment and just tried to breathe as his lungs felt hard in his chest. He knew that Zephyr was trying and trying to make Remus feel better, something he did see and appreciate. The familiar rise in his chest however was what was infuriating him now and pushing against whatever was being said. His chest would rise and fall in tandem and he just continued clutching at Zephyr in return, feeling like there was nothing else he could do.

Remus was rewarded selfishly when the conversation about him being a professor soon died. It wasn’t something that he ever thought he was capable of doing but the opportunity had been something he mulled over before the interview. It would have at least led him to a job if he could have seen himself falling out of the one at the bookstore. Of course there had been no way to know but out of all the people he had yelled at in the past couple of months he wish he could erase what happened with Dumbledore. He trusted him and he completely butchered whatever trusting friendship they had. Remus sipped at the shallow contents in his mug, feeling his face tingle with the familiar taste of whiskey that was only help numb the other feelings from the past week. It was well needed and Remus didn’t need to say that aloud. He nodded his appreciation quietly as Zephyr filled his mug up once more and at the question went still. For a moment he was quiet, placing his mug on the counter before pressing his palms to his eyes. It was an exhausting day to remember and when he dropped his hands to his sides he exhaled a sharp breath. “I was late. I thought he was firing me because I was late. Apparently Price had a suspicion of what I was and when he read about the registration and the attacks...he said he didn’t think I was fit to work there. Said he had known for a while and couldn’t have a...couldn’t have me working there anymore.”

The mention of Camilla left a sour and bitter taste in his mouth and his stare hardened on Zephyr for mentioning her at the time. His father had become close with her and Camilla apparently had known his mother. The audacity for her to even think she was involved in his family had been cruel and unsatisfying. She had held his mother’s hand when she was sick and walked through the same halls he had at his home in Wales. After the registration, Remus didn’t need to pretend to like her and he moved past Zephyr, brushing his shoulder as he did and faced away. “You don’t have to pretend to be against her for my sake-I know you two are friends. She said she knew my mother-it was completely blindsiding. My father probably thinks her as his daughter-a child that isn’t cursed. I have no reason to like her so I would appreciate if you don’t mention a damn word about her.” Remus was clutching his glass harder than before and his gaze fell to the side. “The Ministry is just a form of government built on what they think is right and ignorant to anyone else. If I’m seen as a danger then I can hardly say I’m not-if I argue I’m not then I am for trying to make a point.” Remus breathed out slowly, his hand reaching to his forehead and closing his eyes. Of course if he needed money he would need to find another job and if a bookstore couldn’t accept him then he didn’t have the trust that any other place would. He wasn’t about to resort to asking people for money but knew a muggle establishment would be his best bet. He didn’t need more people knowing what he was and being exposed for the registration was not aiding him in anyway. In a softer tone, Remus breathed out and shrugged his shoulders helplessly. “I don’t know-just be here. I-I don’t want to be a broken record and complain like this everyday and it’s selfish of me for doing that to you...Just don’t leave, please.”

Zephyr:

He didn't see exactly how he was helping since Remus seemed to be taking insult in almost everything he said, but then again sometimes you just needed an outlet and if Remus lost his cool and yelled at him, so what? That wasn't going to get him banned from the Ministry or kicked out of order meetings, the worst that could happen was that it would end up hurting his feelings, but Zephyr knew Remus wasn't actually trying to do that. Sometimes people got pissed and needed to let off steam and he didn't fully understand the gravity of what was going on, he knew it and he admitted it, he had no idea how badly Remus was suffering and could only compare it to what he'd experienced. How would he have felt if they hadn't caught the one responsible for his mom dying? How would he have felt if he couldn't have joined the order at all to try making things right? Hell, how did he feel just standing there, seeing Remus upset and knowing he couldn't do a damn thing to fix it? Zephyr may not have understood exactly, but he didn't need to understand to actually be there while Remus dealt with things. "Fights with everyone, huh? I didn't realize I had a bad ass for a boyfriend. But if being here and giving you alcohol while you want helps, you got it. And we can start looking into jogging trails or something, we can drink and walk and figure things out." Although at that moment, he wasn't sure if they'd be walking any further than the couch since if he had to guess, it was going to be the kind of night where they killed the entire bottle and Remus woke up miserable. Rubbing at the tendons at the back of Remus' neck, Zephyr knew that being understanding wasn't his strongest trait, but tomorrow would be one of those days where he put his ability to pamper to use if he was right about how bad Remus was going to feel.

"Anyone can be dangerous. They're persecuting you because they want to say they're doing something to keep people safe when the death toll keeps climbing. Werewolf deaths don't even make up ten percent of the deaths and - right, sorry. Not helping. Shutting up now." Although he was right and he knew it, damn it. Arguing about details and how unfair it was to someone that had been suffering because of that same unfairness was perhaps not his most compassionate move and he could at least wait until Remus wasn't so irritated to actually do his own complaining about the measure. He was trying to soothe Remus, not rile him up, although Zephyr knew he was going to have a lot more luck with the later if he couldn't stop himself from running off at the mouth. "I know I have no clue how much shit you've had to put up with in the past and that being offended on your behalf isn't actually doing anything, I'm not actually trying to remind you of how shitty things are. Can't believe I'm being the optimistic here, I just hope that one day all those idiots pull their heads out of their asses and things get better. But until then, I'm in your corner willing to chew people out." There was a difference between being positive and being supportive. You could say that everything would be fine, that there was no reason to be upset, but that didn't actually do anything to make someone feel better, it didn't change that they felt miserable and instead said they didn't have a right to feel bad. You could give them a hug or ice cream and be there, that was more useful, or at least his dad had tried to impress that upon him before, and Zephyr may not have had ice cream, but he did have alcohol and he tightened his grip on Remus, rubbing between his shoulder blades. Anger was still bubbling inside of him, a righteous sort of indignation because Remus should have been free to walk outside the day of the full moon, to be a professor. Maybe one day.

Hold loosening on Remus, Zephyr kept an arm around his waist as they resumed drinking, trying to recall if he had a pack of cigarettes somewhere around. He didn't think so, smoking was something he seemed to only do with company since moving to England, and he denied that their word choice had anything to do with it. He'd shared a smoke with Remus when they first met and so while he was willing to guess that it helped, he didn't have any stored away for unexpected fits of emotion by anyone and wasn't actually sure if he wanted to change that. As he listened to Remus explain what happened, Zephyr exhaled slowly and reconsidered that cigarette as he took another sip of his drink, remembering how amused he'd been once about Remus always sleeping in and being late to work, how they'd talked about Remus shifting his schedule so he didn't have to work mornings and could sleep in. It used to be amusing, but now... now Remus could sleep in all he wanted, but Zephyr couldn't help but feel anger. Later, that was for later because Remus was the one that was dealing with his problems right them. "So it was fine as long as no one else knew, but now it's an image problem. But I guess your monthly pattern became obvious after a while." The bad thing was, the man probably had a case for firing Remus for being late, he could have let Remus go thinking it was that, and Zephyr didn't know if he should hate the man for his honesty in the reason, hate him for his cowardice in refusing to keep Remus employed, or be grateful that at least Remus wasn't going to wonder about the reason. He usually respected honestly, but it seemed he could do that and still be angry about the outcome.

As soon as Remus glared and bumped into him as he brushed past, Zephyr knew that he'd put his foot in his mouth again and somehow managed to piss Remus off somehow, although at least he wasn't left guessing just what the problem was. "You and I have a different definition of friend, I think. You told me once not to go picking fights with my coworkers, remember?" To be precise, Remus had said not to lose his job because of him, because Zephyr had started picking fights with someone just because of Remus. Zephyr didn't hate Camilla, but he did hate how she upset Remus and just because he could spend time around her without throwing a temper tantrum didn't mean he wanted to exchange secrets with her and go for a drink together like he did with Juniper, it didn't mean he was going to stick his nose in Camilla's love life or pester her for baked goods like he did with Daisy. "But I won't mention her." She's not a replacement for you. She could never be as special as you. He thought the words, but he didn't say them because Zephyr knew how sore of a topic Remus' mum was and considering how his dad treated him, having the man take in a girl that was part creature had to be hurtful if not infuriating.

"Damned if you do and damned if you don't, basically, because the people in power are thriving on fear and they'll spin everything to be against you like every other politician." In spite of his mother's profession (most likely because of it, in all honesty), Zephyr didn't have a lot of trust or respect for governments in particular and the Ministry kept going down in his opinion the more he learned about it. "Baby, look at me." He coaxed gently, circling around Remus to be within sight line before reaching out to touch Remus under the chin briefly. "Just look at me, okay? You have every fucking right to complain right now. This isn't something to be quiet about and don't even pretend like you wouldn't be listening to me complain if something upset me, so don't call yourself selfish, okay? I'm not going anywhere. I'm not leaving you and you're not losing me. Seems to me that you'd be more likely to kick me out because I keep putting my foot in my mouth. Come on, let's move to the couch, I've got the bottle." Zephyr declared as he lifted the bottle and waved it around to make his point.

Remus:

Remus needed to get out of his head for the more time he spent listening to his thoughts the more paranoid he was becoming. This was the most reckless he had been in a while and he knew choices had consequences but he felt like some universal karma was biting him in the arse for something he did years ago. He didn’t expect to lose almost everything in a single month and yet the fates were mocking him with everything. Remus had lost his friends, his job, his control, and somewhere in all of that himself. There was a balance that was off and Remus was desperate to temper it. Remus knew Zephyr was trying to be teasing but he shook his head dismissively. “I’m not being a good boyfriend-I’m not being a good person. It’s not bad ass to do what I’m doing...nothing good about it. I don’t know what’s happening.” Remus tried to remember all the good moments in the past months and all the times spent with his friends instead of worrying about this, filling his head with negative thoughts. It was barely clear and cohesive thought in his mind but knew being here with Zephyr was helping. It was fueling him to be better and not let his emotions get the better of him. “Drinking, smoking, walking. All are more preferred coping methods than what I’ve done this week...can’t believe I got kicked out of the Ministry twice.” Remus leaned against Zephyr and welcomed the touch with appreciation, smiling despite what he was feeling and saying.

Remus knew what a werewolf-what he was capable of. The sharp teeth and the blood he craved when he was a werewolf. There were blurs he remembered like chasing a rabbit or another animal but animals was the only thing he hunted and knew he could rip a human apart and barely remember it. It wouldn’t be him thinking about the actions but he could remember parts the next morning. Of course none of that had happened but he knew that animal was within him somewhere and he knew what it was capable of. Remus glanced away as Zephyr said how dangerous werewolves were and how dangerous people thought they could be. “Thank you,” Remus said breathlessly, tilting his head back and closing his eyes with a sigh. He read about what happened to people during werewolf attacks and knew the details without being told them. There are many things I haven’t told you...about my father. About my mother. Maybe I will...but my father-what he said in the papers-he’s said that to me before. I’ve been tied down when I was a child and at school-it was fine but no one liked werewolves once they learned about them. There’s nothing to like about them. They’re ugly and vicious-and hopefully you never see me like that.”

Remus was grateful for Zephyr being there and talking to him through all of these obstacles. It was hard to do alone and he barely did it at all. The company of words that made him feel human and suffering from problems no one could relate to but felt like Zephyr was trying to help was enough. The pain that drilled through him every month could last for days or a week depending on how fatal the injuries were. Of course he would just tell his boss he was sick but eventually he knew that would become a lie and it would be more obvious, especially when he was only taking days off around the full moon. Remus should have been more careful or at least been honest instead of lying every month about who he was. Adam had not seemed hesitant when he fired Remus but he didn’t want to relive that memory. “Adam is...he is a fine man. Sometimes. Elena was there and talked to me, but...Adam is also smart. Of course he found out and with the attacks and more attention to werewolves I’m sure he is scared. Like everyone else. I hate it. No one else will want me.”

“Oh, do we?” Remus echoed, carefully wording his sentence sharply. It was rare he ever actually got frustrated but now he could feel the heat rising in his throat. “I’m not saying to bloody punch Camilla in the face. Gods, that’s not what I’m saying. She is your coworker, yes, I’m aware. I would rather not hear her name or anything about her with all due respect. Hopefully you can consider that before doing so.” Remus felt his chest rising and his frustration rising with it, turning away sharply and drinking the rest of his second drink. The burn felt numb in his throat and he ignored it. Every time he heard Camilla’s name or anything about her, Remus thought about her relationship to his family and her father and what they did together. It made him feel stomach weak and he faintly heard Zephyr resign the conversation.

“Yes, well. I’m damned entirely.” Remus knew what people would be saying and didn’t want to hear anything about it. Everyone was against the werewolf reforms and other creatures and there was little Remus could do and he knew he needed to be registered. Remus heard Zephyr close to him and tipped his chin up. Finally, his eyes looked up and he forced himself to stare back. “I know, but...I feel like that’s all I’m doing and eventually I feel like I will hurt you or something will happen. Just stay here with me...I promise I don’t have to talk about myself like this if you don’t want to hear it. Please, let me know if I’m being hard.” Remus stayed in his place for a moment and watched as Zephyr made his way to the couch. He felt a twinge better than he did before, but still he felt lost for every thought he was feeling. Silently, Remus pushed himself from where he was standing and followed behind Zephyr. At least he deserved a drink and if Zephyr was going to take it from him, he had no choice but to follow. Remus sat down on the couch, feeling his muscles relax and leaned himself on Zephyr’s shoulder. “Give me that damn bottle. Please.”

Zephyr:

"A bad person wouldn't be worried about not being good." That response came out instantly, it wasn't something that Zephyr even had to think about because that was something his mom used to tell him. Bad people didn't feel guilty about what they did, good people did. Good people wanted to be better and bad people wouldn't try. "And you're being a good boyfriend by letting me know what's going on in your head, so even if you don't want to cut yourself any slack, I'm going to do it for you until life stops sucking so much. I'll still hold you responsible if you screw up, but you're not a bad person even if you feel like one." Hadn't they had this same conversation about him being a werewolf before and being a monster? Some people had issues that kept popping up and Zephyr wasn't surprised at all by the idea that this was one of Remus'. "I know you're not happy about it and I shouldn't be encouraging you, but getting kicked out of the Ministry twice does sound pretty bad ass to me," Zephyr admitted, pausing before kissing Remus' hair and adding quietly, almost in explanation. "My mom would have been impressed." And that meant something to Zephyr even if it wouldn't mean anything to Remus. His mom may have been a ministry employee, but she also advocated for keeping an eye on your government instead of trusting them blindly and Zephyr liked to think she wouldn't have been a fan of the shit they were pulling by taking advantage of people's fear, either.

It would be impossible to learn about someone's entire childhood in the short amount of time he and Remus had known each other because for as normal as if felt for their lives to mesh together most days, Zephyr knew that the stress from the war could have impacted how quickly they bonded and was most likely responsible for the way it seemed like they'd know each other for ages when in reality, it hadn't even been a full year. But no matter much Zephyr did or didn't know about Remus' parents, he'd heard enough about Remus' father the night they got together to know that he thought the man was an asshole and he didn't particularly approve of his parenting methods. "You don't have to tell me about any of that until you're ready. I know enough to know you have good reason to be pissed at your dad and maybe he had his reasons, but I don't like the idea of them tying you up. Guess maybe it's because you were a kid and kids just deserve better than that." He'd made a quip once about tying Remus up and while he didn't remember exactly what Remus had said in response anymore, he remembered getting the distinct impression it wasn't something he should bring up unless he wanted to upset Remus and it sounded like he'd found out why.

Since they'd started dating, Zephyr had tried not only to learn as much about Remus' transformations as he could, but also as much about his life as possible and part of that came in the form of his friends and his work. Zephyr had visited Remus enough to have met his coworkers, Elena had helped him out before and while Zephyr wouldn't go so far as to say he knew Adam, but that didn't stop him from wanting to track the guy down and have a few choice words with him. Logically, yes, he had the power to fire Remus. Logically, fine, he probably could have made a case to fire Remus for all the times he was late and sure, Zephyr acknowledged that sneaking off while Remus was working to trade off blow jobs was probably frowned upon in most bookstores, but that was logic and Zephyr was fueled more by emotion and his heart said his boyfriend was hurt and he should fucking do something about it. Listening was what would actually help Remus, but damn, was it hard to convince himself to just sit back and not do anything. "How did Elena feel about it?" He asked in what he thought was a tactful avoidance of debating yet again if anywhere else would want Remus to work for them.

He was trying to be tactful. He was trying to be useful and patient and understanding, he was trying to push down his own anger in response to Remus' problems and it wasn't personal, but for the first time since the conversation started, Zephyr felt irritation flare up in response to how Remus was reacting to him. "I get that you're pissed right now, but count to ten and breathe." He said shortly, taking his own advice and drawing in a deep breath before letting it out slowly. Not terribly helpful, but at least it kept him from snapping back and forgetting what his real goal was. "The only reason I brought up her name was as a suggestion to help you, I wasn't trying to make things worse. It was a suggestion, it was a shitty one, I'm working on keeping my ideas to myself and listening, but remember that even when I screw up, I'm on your side and not going to pick anyone over you. Conversation over."

It was likely a good thing Zephyr never had the grades to follow his mom's career track because chances were his temper would have gotten him kicked out in a span of months and then all that work would have been for waste, but maybe he would have been in a better place to argue for Remus. Or maybe not if he could sway public opinion, he didn't know, but first was working on Remus' opinion. "We're going to hurt each other's feelings sometimes, it will happen. Then we'll kiss and make up and be stronger for it. You can complain all you want, but I'm still going to tell you when you're being too hard on yourself." He was sure Remus meant too hard to handle, but he ignored that and conveniently interpreted how he wished to. Settling onto the couch, Zephyr handed over the bottle to Remus before wrapping an arm around him, playing with his hair while holding him close. "For what it's worth, I'm proud of you." He said quietly. "And don't argue. I'm not talking about for getting fired or getting kicked out of the Ministry, I'm proud of you for sitting here and talking about it instead of bottling it up. I'm proud of you for caring enough and wanting to see things done to get in trouble in the first place and not just locking yourself up somewhere to break you. That's what they want and you're not doing it. I'm proud of you."

Remus:

There was always a time he knew that Remus needed to stop talking before he deepened the conversation off the ledge. His heart was hammering in his chest and the topic of him not being good was something he thought he needed to argue, his lips already twisting to reply but his words died in his mouth. This whole month had led him to believe that but Remus was struggling with the reality of what he was for years before it was printed to the masses. Everyone thought he was abnormal now, people he didn’t even know that if they knew that about him they would be leaving or advocating for him to behind bars. Remus was short to agree with them but knew there were others like him, others that were dealing with unsolicited remarks already and Remus was fortunant or a coward to not face the public with the same boldness. “They’ll say I’m a bad person. They are expecting me to react and I did and...look where that led me.” It was a dismissive thought and he knew his actions had been impulsive but the only one he felt the most guilt for was Fabian and Moody. It was something he couldn’t take back. A first fight that he wasn’t expecting. A fight with his father was only normal but in front of a crowd was a fear that Remus overcame quickly. Remus didn’t argue with Zephyr, smiling inwardly at the comment. “Yes, well. I don’t think losing a job and losing a position in the Order for a few weeks is the reward for being a bad ass-” His explanation stopped and he gazed up at Zephyr with a soft smile. “Yeah? Did she get kicked out as well once or twice?”

There was so much to comb through to even reach where Remus was today. Every thought and effort that led him to doing what he did was because of who he was and not really what he was, al though it was a strong character trait as well. It had been a normal childhood for the most part ignoring the one day a month that everything wasn’t normal. But from their conversations before and times Remus felt the urge to talk about his past, he knew Zephyr got the impression of who his father was. “Thank you...it’s just. Weird, I guess. I accepted who and what I was because he told me that. It was never weird to me. But hearing other people’s childhoods...and what they did and what I didn’t. I didn’t realize I was different-I mean of course I did but I didn’t realize how much I missed out on because my father was being dramatic. I suppose he thought locking me up every day even on the full moon was for the best. People in the town would talk and he never liked rumors. My mother though...she was always there. She treated me like an actual kid. Gave me memories. She was my only friend until school, actually.”

It had been a few years that Remus worked at the bookstore. He started not soon after he graduated and knew it was a good opportunity to earn money going forward for rent and other expenditures. It wasn’t something Remus looked forward to, but now his days felt even more lonely without having something to do. There was no job and he was living off of the last few checks and some money from friends that he didn’t want to touch yet. Remus shrugged his shoulders against the question. “She came out after me when I stormed out. I didn’t tell her why I was fired but it was nice to talk someone directly after. I know Adam and I rarely got along but I thought he was better than letting me go because of this...I don’t even know where to get a job-if somewhere finds out I’m a werewolf after a month of absences they will fire me. If purebloods find out I’m working at a muggle place, they will find me. I don’t exactly know where to look now.” Remus knew the professor job at the school would be the best for him if he had compromised his frustrations with his actual income needs. It would have been more beneficial now with everything but knew there was a chance of the same thing happening at the school. Parents could be furious at Dumbledore for allowing him to work there if they knew and that wasn’t a line he wanted to cross quite yet.

The mention of Camilla stirred heat in his words and he was trying to swallow his frustration but his mind was hung on the idea of her. This had been a shared effort of her fault and Remus could easily point a finger at her for advocating for the registration as if someone like her couldn’t be hurt as well. Remus remembered her in the bookshop that day, trying to get Remus to listen to her but Remus would much rather hit a book over his head than listen to what she needed to say. His fists were curling by his sides and tried to ration his thoughts as Zephyr told him to calm down. “Yeah, well. Perhaps you’ve learned not to bring her up to help me,” Remus offered, pressing the heels of his palms against his closed eyes. There were only a few times he would get upset at Zephyr but now he knew that walking out the door for fresh air seemed a better option than letting the air around him suffocate him. Apparating back to his own flat for the night seemed like an enticing option but when Zephyr called the conversation over and stepped away, Remus stayed and stared down at the ground as if burning holes into it with his gaze.

Remus sighed out to himself, dragging his breath out to try to get it back to being even. This was all happening and falling around him, nothing seemed good except for Zephyr and Remus couldn’t lose him. Not because of his behavior and being frustrated at the situation and not at him. He was right. Remus sat down on the couch at first a few feet away but shuffled closer, leaning his head against the curve of Zephyr’s neck. Even though he said not to argue with him, Remus wanted to. There was nothing to be proud of. He didn’t accomplish anything except for his name being on a banned list from places he thought he could be. The Ministry kicked him out twice, his work fired him, the Order put him on temporary leave. There was nothing he could do and it wasn’t something to be prideful of. “Talking helps. If I don’t talk I get trapped in my head. It’s not the best place to be...but thank you. It’s good to have someone listen. And I...I don’t know what to do.”

Zephyr:

"People say a lot of shit. Some of them are going to call you a bad person and you know what? Maybe you're going to do a bad thing sometimes, but that doesn't make you evil. You're human, you're going to fuck up, and you know what you do? You suck it up and you go apologize to the ones you did wrong, you do not apologize for who you are. Because there's nothing wrong with you. For every single damn time someone calls you a bad person, I'm going to tell you that you're not. And I may get in a few fights over your honour, too, and no, you're not going to talk me out of that because bigots have it coming." Bigots? Racists? Speciesists? Whatever in the hell you called them, but he was prone to ranting again and he was trying not to do that again, instead just letting Remus get it out of his system and feel listened to instead of feeling managed, so Zephyr forced himself to suck in a deep breath and let it out slowly, adjusting his view again and flashing Remus a quick grin. "If they'd kicked my mother out, she probably would have went out the wrong door with her middle finger in the air. I've been told it's a miracle she didn't get fired, but I think she was suspended a couple of times." Zephyr admitted as he shrugged one shoulder, his smile as lopsided as his body language. He wasn't ever going to know what day to day life was like for Remus, especially not with the registry in place, but the least he could do was try to distract him, remind him he was good and special and, most important of all, put that smile on his face.

It was weird how much a parent could fuck up a kid without even trying. You could tell them something once and their brain would suck it up like a sponge and suddenly it was ingrained in who they were even if they forgot about it when they grew up, they could learn actions and patterns and it would just seem so normal to them because they came from the world that formed their personality. It was proof of how daunting parenthood was and Zephyr could admit that it was probably a good thing he didn't have kids or else he would likely fuck it up as well. "Well, he's still your dad. When you're a kid, it's your parents that shape your world and back then, it's not like you had any reason not to trust him, right? Normal was what your parents said it was, but that doesn't mean they were right about everything. I get that it can be hard to unlearn some of the things you were taught, but... just because something was done one way doesn't make it the best or the only way. I wish your dad could find a better way, but at least you had your mom. She still sounds like one hell of an incredible lady. But then again, she raised you, so I know she was."

Sometimes Zephyr looked in the paper for things to take Remus out to do, various events and activities that they could use for bonding experiences if not outright dates and Zephyr supposed that he would have to start looking at job listings as well, although he wasn't really sure what Remus would be willing to do for a paycheck. "I hope she gives Adam hell for firing you. I know he could have fired you for other things because let's face it, baby, you weren't so good at being on time, but still... you've worked there for a while, he should have known better." Maybe he was just using it as an excuse to fire Remus, something that was more of a hot topic that just oversleeping to get Remus out of the store, Zephyr wasn't sure, but he knew that he was angry either way at Adam Price for providing yet another blow to Remus' self-esteem when so many things seemed to make him want to crumple lately. "Do you want to at least try to find a magical job? I can help you look if you want to test it out, but... fuck, I hate saying this, but if you're worried about what people will say, muggle is probably better. I don't know if purebloods would care enough to track you down to a muggle place. And if you want to try going back to Dumbledore and seeing if he had some other place for you, well, I still want to visit that place, so I'll back you up on that option, too."

Zephyr felt like he was running out of ways to say that he supported Remus because that was all that he really wanted to do. He knew he couldn't solve things, but he could at least offer ideas and suggestions, could go over different options, but it seemed like that was just going to lead to them snapping at each other. Maybe it would be best to shelve the useful stuff to a later time when Remus wasn't so worked up or else chances were they would end up saying something they regretted, which wasn't what Zephyr wanted. He didn't give a fuck about Camilla, didn't consider her a friend as much as a tolerable work colleague, but her standing with him had dropped considerably for what she'd done against Remus and how could Remus doubt that? Why didn't Remus know that Zephyr was on his side at not palling it up with the woman that was apparently Remus' enemy behind his back? Certainly not a good thing to focus on and Zephyr helped himself to a larger swallow of alcohol than he really needed as he slouched down on the couch, wanting to move attention back to Remus where it belonged instead of anyone else.

Some of the tension he'd felt during the Camilla conversation eased away as Remus tucked against his side, head fitting in the curve of his neck and Zephyr kissed the top of his head, fingers brushing along skin in an effort to soothe him. "We're going to take it one day at a time, okay?" He promised quietly, the words murmured into Remus' hair. "I love you for you, not because of your blood status or your job or your standing in the Order. No matter what's happened, I'm going to be here to help you through it. Just let me know what's going through your head, okay? Even when it's a problem I can't solve for you, I can listen. I can give you booze. And I can sit right here with you and hold you until the world sucks less. How about first we say that we spend the rest of the night just sitting here drinking and not worrying about fixing anything until tomorrow, does that sound like a start? Then we can tackle one problem at a time and figure out what you want to do."

Remus:

“That-Yes, I don’t think everyone will get upset about who I am...but more about what I am. I’m not going to apologize to everyone...that’s what they want. They want me to be detained-to be closed off. It’s just the full moon day now but in a few months it could be off all the streets at all times. I’m not even part of a pack and I’m considered a threat. They still haven’t found the pack who killed Marlene and her family...I would do anything to find out.” It was the first time since the funeral Remus had said Marlene was killed aloud and Remus could feel himself shake as he did. The pack had been in Ireland and he knew werewolves could travel but not that fast to be in London. If they were someone would know. Someone could have details and Remus knew that going into the Auror Department with a blind mission had been more of a suicide mission. Everyone was trying to solve Marlene’s death. His first thought had been Greyback but Remus had not heard of him being involved in anything since January. Even if he told himself a thousand times Fenrir did it, he didn’t know if he could believe it. “I don’t need you fighting my fights, alright? I’m capable of doing them myself, but unless someone starts an argument with me, I want to stay far from fights if I can help it. I can’t afford to be kicked out of any other establishments for my...my behavior.” Remus always liked it when Zephyr shared information about his mother and even being compared to her felt like an accomplishment. “Well, she seems pretty bold. I didn’t go out with a middle finger but Kingsley did have to talk me down from going back and starting another fight...a talk with Kinsgley and Moody are two people I would rather not disappoint and I did.”

It never occurred until Remus went to school that he figured out that his home life had been different than others. It didn’t matter about changing once a month into a monster but the psychological behavior that was implemented through that. When Remus told Zephyr about his father before, the same feeling occurred of knowing he could have had it worst. He could have been in a house with someone like Sirius’ family that wasn’t as forgiving. “Yes, he’s still my dad...whatever estranged definition we share each other he is still my father. I know nothing I had was perfect-my father was hardly around...my mom wouldn’t like this. What he’s done. I don’t think he’s aware of that. He was always thinking about himself...I think he thought this would be the best for me but...of course he’s wrong.” At the mention of his mother, Remus’ face softened and shrugged his shoulders. “She was great. She would have liked you.”

Remus wasn’t oblivious and knew he and Adam didn’t have the best relationship with each other but Remus didn’t think he would actually fire him the first excuse he could pick up on. He exhaled a short breath and shrugged his shoulders in defense. “I don’t think she would. But it’s fine. She doesn’t have to. I don’t want anyone else causing trouble for the sake of me. I know I could have done better...but I don’t know if that would have changed his mind. Adam was doing his job...it was twisted but he did.” Remus had not begun to think about what he would do when he got fired. It was something he never thought he would have to consider and now the reason why he got fired was implementing the same counterproductive hiring process in other jobs. As if reading his mind, Remus sagged against the counter with his gaze on the ground. “I-I don’t know...I can’t think of anything that I could do. You think they’re hiring dragon tamers? Is it too late to get into quidditch? I know I could get a job in the city anywhere else but...when Marlene died she...she gave me-or the law...gave me some money. I guess I have that while I figure out what to do. Until then...I’ll be fine, alright?”

There was nothing else to give and Remus knew that bringing up Camilla had been something that stung. He knew Zephyr didn’t have any malice behind the conversation which is why Remus surrendered the conversation to be mute. There were more reasons that Remus didn’t want to bring to the surface about why Remus felt indifferent to Camilla but he didn’t think to mention it now. Remus also didn’t need Zephyr starting fights at his work again in his favor, something that would later weigh heavily on his conscious. Remus found peace as he melted against Zephyr and the silence, humming and tangling his fingers in with Zephyr’s. “One day at a time. One hour at a time. One minute...it’s going to get harder.” It wasn’t a question and Remus nodded at his own words, closing his eyes as he rested against Zephyr. “Here I thought you were very into unemployed violent halfbloods,” Remus grinned teasingly in response. It was nice to know Remus could turn to Zephyr for anything. He was the only one he trusted with anything besides the marauders and that was so rare recently. “Listening and talking and drinking. You’re speaking my language. I know-I know the world will go down six feet under before it gets better but...as long as I have you then I will be okay. I think not worrying and only drinking sounds like a good night. For now I don’t want to tackle anything. I just want to sit here with you. If that’s alright.”

Zephyr:

What Remus should apologize for and what society in general wanted him to apologize for happened to be two very different things and Zephyr nodded along. If Remus broken something or hurt someone, he was a good enough person to apologize for that without being told, but that didn't mean that he should apologize to someone that was offended by the idea of a werewolf roaming the streets and it was that sort of unfeeling, privileged asshole that made Zephyr's temper rise. He wanted to rage against the idea of being not being allowed on the streets at all, he wanted to promise he would fight against that and took whatever he could to help, but the mention of Marlene cooled his temper. While her death was upsetting, Zephyr knew Remus was far more familiar with her and that even if she hadn't been a friend, it would have mattered more to him for the way she was killed. "I'm not trying to fight them for you, I'm saying that I'll fight them with you. But I'll try not to go adding anymore fighting problems to our lives right now even if you are worth getting in a fight over." God, if only it was as easy as knocking someone out to solve problems. If only that would make people realize werewolves weren't monsters, if only it would get the right people locked up, if only. But it didn't work like that. There can a point when more violence wasn't helping and while it might have made Zephyr feel better, it wasn't what Remus wanted and that meant Zephyr had to wait, he could blow his top some other time and he tapped his fingers in a meaningless rhythm against his thigh. "She was bold. Got into a lot of trouble when she first started because some of the others thought she only made it because Grandma campaigned for the President. I think going down fighting shows it matters. Sometimes we disappoint people, god knows I have, but it doesn't mean you can't fix it in time."

If Remus wanted something, then Zephyr believed in him enough to think he would at least try and he knew that he would support him, regardless of if that was patching things up with Moody or when it came to dealing with his father and the registry he'd passed. "Do you want to tell me about the fight the two of you had? I know things were bad before, after your mom..." Zephyr knew what Remus's mom had wanted him to promise, but it seemed like Remus' dad was intent on burning anything between them after her death. "I can't say anything about your dad, I don't know if he did this for his career or if he thought it would keep kids from being bit like you, but you shouldn't be hurt in the process." Probably something his mom would agree on, from what Zephyr knew of her. "I would have been on my most charming behavior. Would've called her ma'am and brought her flowers and promised I'm only a bad influence on you half the time," He said, the corner of his mouth turning up in a smile.

"It sucks what he did, well, it sucks why he did it, but people get fired all the time. It happens. It may be hard to find another job for a while, but you will find one eventually and I think if Marlene gave you money, then she'd probably want you to use it to buy yourself time to find you care about and not just rush into finding the first shitty job that will take you. It sounds like Marlene gave you options, so... make her proud with how you use them, right?" Zephyr hesitated, licking his lips and getting the feeling that Remus wouldn't like what he was about to say, but that was a feeling he'd gotten though the entire conversation. "You're fine now and you know that even when her money runs out, even if you find a job and end up fired again, you know you'll still be fine financially, right? Don't get pissed, okay? It's not something you need to think about now, I'm just saying you have enough people that care about you that you're not going to end up homeless on some street just because you're between jobs."

While Zephyr had never shied away from an argument, it would be a lie to say that he didn't feel better to have Remus relaxing against him, their fingers intertwined. Not so much because he was afraid to fight with Remus, they'd been finding things to disagree on since they met, but because he didn't like Remus being upset and hated even more the fact that he couldn't fix it for Remus. He had a strong urge to protect and provide, but at some point he had to step back and accept that he couldn't make the world fall in line for Remus and he would have have to be there for him. "You want to know what my type it? It's cute boys that like books, boys that are shorter than me so I can pin them against walls. Being a pretty blusher is a requirement and you can't go wrong with having a smart mouth, that's pretty important. I think you fit the bill, don't you?" He remembered telling Remus what he was interested in the night they got together and Zephyr was intentionally trying to echo his words from that night, just not calling him a bookstore guy anymore. "You have me, baby," Zephyr promised quietly, handing the bottle back over while he kept playing with Remus' fingers. "I may be an asshole that has no idea how to deal with any of this, but I'm not going anywhere. I know it's going to get tough, but you've got me. At rock bottom and the top, I'll be here."

[eerythingisshaka]

The Coffee Prince Pt. 4

(T’Challa x Reader)

 *Part 1*  *Part 2* *Part 3*

Word Count: 7.1k

Plot:  Stuck in your ways of living, one day at the coffee shop, you run into a tall dark roast that threatens to wake you up from your romantic hibernation.

*Previously*

You close your room door, tossing T’Challa Jr. on your bed.  Kicking your shoes off, taking your hair down, you pull out your phone.

Home safe!  You send to him.  You put your phone down and unclothe to get comfortable.  Suddenly a ding sounds and you dive for your device.  

Glory to Bast.  Sleep well, umhle.

You read it a couple of times before setting your phone back down.  Laying down, you clutch your prized possession T’Challa won you to your chest as the day’s event float in your head: euphorically exhausted.

The next few weeks with T’Challa that follow are some of the best you have experienced in a long time.  You guys meet at the coffee shop from time to time when your schedules allow, and take evening walks to vent about your days and life, ending with sweet kisses before you guys part ways.  You can’t remember the last time you walked into work on cloud nine, but T’Challa seemed to be doing that for you now.

This day however was particularly tasking.  Your company’s online server was down, causing an uptick in calls from begrudging customers wanting answers on when their products would be available again to use.  The worst part was that your processors had no clue what the problem is or how long it would take to fix, so you try your best to white lie your way to keeping customers satisfied enough to keep from threatening to revoke their memberships.  Just before you are at your wits end however, you see your phone light up with T’Challa’s name calling in.  T’Challa wasn’t a big texter; he likes to hear your voice and feels texting is too impersonal which you thought was quite sweet but could be inconvenient at times.  You pick up and speak in a low tone.

“Heyyy, Chacha, what’s up?”  You were still kind of trying to figure out a nickname for him.  You kinda like this one.

“So much, right now, umhle.  I could really use a break at the moment.  Are you free to meet?”

You look at the queue of calls sitting in your phone line and the stack of paperwork you need to upload and organize.

“Yeah, I can step away for a bit.  The usual?”

“If you don’t mind.  We could do something else if you’d rather.”  His tone tickles your eardrum as you imagine him saying that in another context, but T’Challa was completely pure in his intentions with you most of the time.

“No, no.  I could kill for some caffeine right now and it’s closer.  My energy is too low to walk far.” you say with a whine.

“Ms. Macchiato, in her true form.  I’ll see you there then.”  

“Ok, see you!”  You’re cheesing as you hang up the phone.  You look around at your other co-workers completely ignoring the queue and roll your eyes as you walk out.  No way in hell you would be the only person putting in phone work around here.  You remind yourself to do some job searching later when possible.  

Walking into the shop, the smell of the coffee beans roasting was enough to make you moan audibly.  You were so damn ready to wrap your lips on the rim, letting the warm liquid rejuvenate your spirit.  As you approach the register, you hear a voice call to you.

“(Y/N)!  Over here!”  T’Challa waves from a table by the window.  

You wave and mime the you are going to order something and he replies, “I’ve got you right here, umhle.”  

You squint as you see the extra cup sitting in front of him with your name correctly scrawled along the side.  Walking up to him your heart swells with appreciation.  T’Challa stands up placing a hand on your arm and a kiss on your cheek.

“You didn’t have to buy it for me.  I owe you for a couple other ones already.”  you say taking your seat.

T’Challa hisses his disdain for your comment.  “You have no reason to pay me back.  That’s not how I do things; my treat is seeing you in front of me.”

You feel heat rise to your face from something other than the coffee.  You hide your goofy smile in your cup as you take a sip.

T’Challa smirks at you a while before continuing, “A hard days work looks good on you, by the way.  I know you said things have been piling up, that’s why I wondered if you would even be able to see me today.”  T’Challa sips from his ‘Thomas’ cup.

You tweak your mouth as you shift in your seat, “Yeah, I just figured, the work will still be there whether I take a break now or later.  And trust me, the work will still be there for me to do alone.”

“Ahh, so your co-workers aren’t as dedicated as you seem to be.”  T’Challa summizes.

“I mean, dedicated is a strong word.  I do what I need to do to get things cuz otherwise I’m going to hear someone’s mouth about it, and I don’t needed that added stress, you know?”

T’Challa nods hugging himself in contemplation, “I see what you mean.  Your situation seems to be working in comparison with mine.  You know of my community work in high-crime areas?”

You nod.  T’Challa had spoken of his work with a non-profit to rebuild some areas that were pretty violent and drug ridden that you knew all too well.

“Well, of course it is not so simple as to give people things and expect them to use the materials to create a better situation for themselves with education.  So we are trying to do that, educate, but everyone is at a different learning level, and not everyone learns at the same rate or method.  So, as much as we would love to be projecting great numbers of progress, they have been slow to come and almost stagnant at times due to us still trying to build a foundation for a successful program.”  T’Challa lifts his hands in surrender, shaking his head as he grips his cup up, staring into space.

“I get it.  That’s some of the hardest work in the world; helping others in a completely selfless way.  It can consume you, corrupt people and forget the mission at large.  But I think you have a good head on your shoulders to keep things on track.”  You reach for T’Challa’s hand, running your thumb along his slightly rough knuckles.

T’Challa sighs deeply watching your hand on his; his eyelids halfen his eyes.  You see his shoulders start to relax as he grips your hand in yours.

“Look at that.  It looks funny to me how polar opposite our hands are.”  You stretch his out, raising it up to mirror yours, palm to palm.  “Mine is stout and chubby, yours long and knuckly.”  You chuckle to yourself regarding the assessment,

T’Challa interlaces his fingers in yours, his eyes smizing, “It’s a beautiful combination, I think.  I need something soft to rest my hands on.”

Your heart skipped a beat at this statement.  T’Challa kept doing things like this.  You smile at him and he just smiles back, kissing the back of your hand gingerly, maintaining the hold as he drinks from his cup.  Does he really not realize the double entendre or are you just too hot for him at this point?  That’s something Tavia has practically put a countdown on: the time when you all fully express yourselves physically.

T’Challa says, “We have a community get-together happening this weekend by the way.  You could come by; there will be food, music, games, the works.  I’ll be working a little bit of everything, trying to spread the word of our program for people to take advantage of, but I could escort you around.”  T’Challa says with a smile.

“Oh yeah!  I’d love to see you in action over there.  You had me at free food, but you know, the kids are the future as well.”  You quip.

T’Challa scoffs, “Well that’s what the food is there for.  Cheapest advertising tool known to man.”  T’Challa looks at his watch, “I think I may have taken more of your time than I anticipated.”  

You look at your phone at get a mini heart attack.  Someone may actually notice your absence this time.  You could just say you were in the bathroom the whole time.  You both get up to leave the coffee shop.  

Once outside you guys turn to each other.  A thought crosses your mind and you start to speak but decide against it.  

T’Challa, always observant, notices.  “What’s on your mind, umhle?”

“Uhh...I don’t, mm.”  You bite your tongue.

T’Challa rests his hand on your arm, sending an electricity through you that you found to be completely unfair.  “If you can’t make the community event, it is alright.  Your rest is more important. And I know you have plenty other things to do.”

“No, it’s not that.  But um, are...do we…”  T’Challa looks at your expectantly.  “Are we...exclusive?”

There it is.  Something that has been plaguing you for a while is how much you guys have hung out and gotten to know each other, but you couldn’t place if you guys were good friends who just kiss sometimes, or if he was looking for anything more.  

“Are we exclusive?”  T’Challa parrots back.

You nod, not wanting to say much else out of embarrassment.

T’Challa steps in front of you slowly leaning to whisper in your ear, “I don’t kiss my friends the way I kiss you, umhle.”

His bass snakes your inner ear like the serpent on an apple, as you twinge to keep your juices from flowing on sight.

He pulls from your ear staring you, hand resting on your hip.  “And I am a one woman kind of man, (Y/N).  Don’t think anyone else could carry a single percent of my attention from you.”  Looking to your mouth he hovers his over it before allowing you to close the gap between you.  His lips fit with yours perfectly as the suction creates a chorus of smacks, sealing the definition of your relationship.

A low grunt comes from T’Challa as he sighs deeply pulling from you.  “So, do you like me?  Yes or no?”  He smiles goofily at you as you laugh at his childish question.

Stifling your smile, you say, “Maaaybe.  But it’s in your favor.”

Heading back to your place, Tavia is posted on the couch with an array of books and papers scattered around her.  She is back in school to earn a certification in something you keep forgetting.  

Tavia looks at you over her glasses, “Whaddup, doh?”

“Nuthin much, girl.  You?” You kick off your shoes and throw your keys in a bowl.

“Hun, you lookin at it.  Procrastination remains the death of me.  Them white folks still giving you hell at the job?”

“Yeah, they stay lazing around and I’m tending the field like Boss asks.”  You exasperate as you plop on the easy chair massaging your scalp.

“You need to get the fuck outta there.  They don’t appreciate you.  And you too smart for that busy work.”

“Yeah.  It would be so much easier if I could just stay and not start all over in a new place, though.”

Tavia wags a finger, “Uh-uh.  Cuz then you would be getting more responsibility that does not reflect in your pay.  Leave!!”

You marinate on Tavia’s words.  It seems like she’s right honestly.  You have no position in that job and there is no way to work up because positions get taken quick or just aren’t available.

“At least we can get our frustrations all out on some canvas at the Sip and Paint Saturday.  Groupon finally came through with something good.”  Tavia says bobbing her neck as she reads her notes.

Your stomach drops as you remember the plan you made last week with her.  “Uhh…”

Tavia snaps to look at you, “Uhhh? Uh what?”

You play with your fingers as you speak, “So I ran into T’Challa today…”

“And?”  Tavia winds her hand in the air for you to hurry up.

“He has a thing at his non-profit.  Like a block party type thing.  I said I would help…”  You squeak out, waiting for the storm to blown.

Tavia looks at you frozen with blank expression.  “Ok, I see.”

You recoil into your body as you continue, “Are you mad?”

“NAH!  You good!  I get it, dick is important to lock down.  I applaud your efforts.”  Tavia whips out her phone.  “I guess I’ll get back on this app life.  The Groupon is only good in for a couple, not single.”

You go over to half hug Tavia, “I’ll make it up to you, I promise. Girl.”

“Tsk, make it up by making that dick dance for you.  That’s all I ask.”  She pats your head on her shoulder before rolling it to get you off her.

You go to your room as you hear Tavia’s phone pinging on and on.  “See?  I got options too!”

Saturday comes and you make your way to the park the community party was being held at.  Balloons and tables were in abundance; speakers were playing everything you heard on the radio and then some.  The smell of burgers and brats filled the air and your stomach instantly caved in with hunger.  T’Challa said they were good on set up and really just wanted you to enjoy yourself for the most part.  

Making your way through the crowd, you go to the food table to fix a plate.  You smile and thank the servers as they pile your plate with the goods.  Once you make it to the dessert area, you feel two hands grip sides, making you jump a little.

“I have to admit, the sweets on that table would only disappoint you.”  A voice you know too well tickles your hearing as his lips greet the side of your face.

You turn to see T’Challa smiling at you.  “They look pretty good to me, what’s the problem?”

“As sweet as your lips are, they’d only taste sour.”  he says screwing his lips in disgust before planting his mouth on yours.  You didn’t need the plate or dessert if this was all that touched your lips today.

“Brother!  This is not the way you introduce me to your girlfriend, eh?”  a voice says behind you.

A young lady with braids in a bun shakes her head clicking her tongue at the both of you.  “Shame, shame, I must say.  We have health codes to maintain, please move the PDA along elsewhere.”

T’Challa smiles speaking to her, “(Y/N), this talkative volunteer is my sister, Shuri.  I told you about her a little bit.”

Shuri nods proudly, sticking her hand out.  “The pleasure is all mine.  I am the subject of many people’s conversations, I’m just that memorable.  And don’t let him fool you, I am running this operation, not just volunteering.”

Taking her handshake, you buck your eyes at T’Challa “Oh?”

T’Challa shifts his weight, pursing his lips, “Shuri, you know better than to fib.  This isn’t Wakanda, you have a secondary position here.”

Shuri waves her hand in his face, “Ah ah ah!  Bump all of that, Brother.  Science and tech is the most important aspect of the program, no surprise.  The public schools here do nothing to emphasize the importance and hone their knowledge to be able to apply what they learn outside the classroom.  Also, I meant the picnic anyway.  You barely lifted a finger to decorate.”

“Bast!  I did more than life a finger.  Anything heavy was my job to handle!  Cutting up cake is not ‘doing everything’.”  T’Challa exclaims.

Shuri holds a fist up to her face and demonstrates a winding motion next to it.  “I wonder what will pop up?”  Her middle finger slowly unravels.

“Can I get the apple pie, please?”  a person asks.

Shuri drops her hands and puts on a winning smile, “Of course!  We have plenty, so don’t hold back!” She says as she hands over a pre-cut slice.

You were getting your life to the back and forth between T’Challa and Shuri.  Rubbing T’Challa’s  back you dismiss yourselves.  “Thank you Shuri, and it was so nice to meet you.”

“Likewise, (Y/N).  He can’t shut up about you, so use that to your advantage.”

T’Challa moans in frustration shaking his head as he leads you away to a table to sit.

You sit and start to to smack on your food.

“(Y/N), I’m going to make rounds for a bit.  Will you be ok here?”

You nod with a mouth full of food hindering your speech.  T’Challa smiles, kissing your forehead as he walks toward some informational tables.  The whole party seemed to be a smash hit.  Hordes of people walked around enjoying the sites and music.  Kids ran after each other and got their faces painted.  Shuri moved from the dessert table to the science area where she and others demonstrated simple experiments making fog and foam appear from virtually thin air.  There was a mini exhibit on an element called ‘vibranium’ that you hadn’t heard of before so maybe you would check that out.  

Finishing your plate, you definitely had The Itis, so you needed to get up and do something.  You weren’t sure where T’Challa went, but you went around to enjoy the sights regardless.  You played a couple of the carnival games, trying to knock bottles down with a nerf gun and that one cornhole game that’s always a classic.  

You waited in line forever to get your face painted and while the clown lady was giving you a gorgeous flower on your cheek, a voice calls out to you.

“Yaaass!  Getcho face BEAT for the Gods!”

Turning slightly to not mess up the creation, you see Tavia made it to the party.

“Hey girl!  Whatchu doin here?  You didn’t say you were coming!”  You exclaim taking her hand lovingly.  

“I love surprises though, so here I be!  I did wanna be nosy too though.  Where’s Tobago?”

You roll your eyes, “Tavia, I will knock you clean the fuck out if you get his name wrong in front to his face.  T-Cha-lla.”

“Listen, it only matters that you get Thalia’s name right.  Don’t worry bout me!  Where is he anyway?”

“Your guess is as good as mine.  I thought he would be escorting me around but he got caught up in the mix I guess.  Why are you here though?  Ain’t Sip and Paint tonight?”

Tavia nods, “Uh-huh.  I found a willing participant to accompany so I’ll be leaving, like now.”

The lady gives you a mirror to show you the finished art on you.  “Ok, well have fun.  I know this is about to wrap up too in like 15 minutes, so if I don’t do anything after, I’ll be home.”

“Please, do something else!  You made your way out here for the nigga to abandon you for most of it.  He owes you somethin!”  She raises her eyebrows at you suggestively.

“Ok!  Bye!”  You say dismissing her.

As Tavia leaves, you look around to see where T’Challa went.  Instead, you see Shuri breaking down the science exhibit area and decide to ask her.

“Hey, Shuri.  Have you seen your brother around?”

Shuri looks across the way, “I don’t know actually but I hope he is deflating the bounce house.  People will keep coming and kids will never leave if that stays up.”  Shuri struggles to fold a table and you reach down to bend the leg joint of it so it folds.

“Ugh, thanks (Y/N).”

“No problem!  Do you need help with anything else around here?  I got nothing else to do.”

Shuri nods looking around,  “If you collect some tablecloths and toss them.  They are disposable so we aren’t keeping them.  After that, we got tables we are loading up in the trucks nearby.  Don’t wear yourself out though!  Just a couple would be a great start and you can leave whenever you want.”

“Ok, will do.  This was an amazing event by the way.”

Shuri laughs with her tongue out, as she brushes her shoulders off, “I does what I can!”

Collecting the tablecloths you think about how beyond her years Shuri appears to be.  The girl is a teenager, but is of course so smart and has a great business-head on her shoulders.  Plus it was so cute to hear her talking shit with her accent; she really was down!  You wanted to be her when you got your life together.  

With all of the tablecloths disposed of, you head to tipping a table and getting it folded.

“Eh!  My sister has you working now?”  T’Challa comes out of nowhere, reaching to fold the legs down.

“No, I volunteered!  I wasn’t doing anything else so…”

T’Challa raises the table on its side, walking the table to the truck.  “I’m sorry about that, by the way.  There was a lot of behind the scenes stuff that I had to help with that was...unexpected.”

You nod, quiet.  You couldn’t hide your disappointment.  “I still saw a lot though, escorted on not.  This place was hopping with shit to do.”

T’Challa steps in front of you, grasping your chin, eyes locked on you suddenly.  Your insides jump at the anticipation of what was to come from his touch.  

He turns your head slightly to the left, studying your art, “Ahhh, a purple flower.  It almost resembles the Heart Shaped Herb from back home.”

Your pace steadies as you realize his intentions.  “Yeah?  I just wanted something pretty and purple and boom!  There it is.”  

T’Challa nods, licking his lips as he studies your face.  Letting go, he say, “Let me make it up to you.  We could get some dinner...or a movie.”  You contemplate the options.  “Or both?  We could really paint the town if you want, so we can catch up.”  He says softly caressing your painted cheek.  Your center began to throb again.  T’Challa was always making it impossible to think clearly when he is talking about completely normal things but not giving you any room to breath.  If it weren’t for the people around, you would press up on him right now; that’s what you wanted to do!

“Both is good,”  you squeak out before moving away to go back to get another table.  You walked with a bounce to ensure he would have a show as you walked away.    

T’Challa had three tables down as you had just finished folding your one.  Walking it back to the truck, your foot hits a hole in the ground you didn’t see.  You lose your balance as you try to hold the table, but it sends you off kilter even more.  A sharp pain shoots through your ankle as you land, the table plops on top of you.  

You yelp in pain as you try to push the table off and not move your leg.  Suddenly the table is clear off of you and you see T’Challa over you, face riddled with worry.

“(Y/N), are you ok?  Where are you hurt?”  He asks, kneeling and holding your head in his hands.

You point down to your leg.  “My ankle!  God!”

Shuri has come over to look it over.  She presses something on her bracelet causing a stream of light to cascade over your swelling foot.  Your skeletal make up in your ankle is revealed for a short period.

“What is that?”  you ask, having never seen that kind of technology.  

Ignoring you, Shuri says, “It isn’t broken, thank Bast.  We can’t handle an OSHA case right now, right brother?”  Shuri jabs him, chuckling.  T’Challa’s returned expression snaps her back to a professional tone.  “Like I said, not broken, just sprained so she needs to lay off of it a while: wrap it, ice it, the works.”  She instructs as she heads back to her duties.

T’Challa nods, “Ok, come (Y/N).  I’ll take you home.”

You didn’t protest this time.  Your ankle hurt like hell, so a free ride couldn’t hurt.  T’Challa reaches your arm around his shoulders and reaches his arm under your knees to lift you.

“Whoa, whoa!  I don’t like that.  Please, I’ll hop.” you say.

T’Challa looks at you incredulously, “It will be faster if I carried you.”

Your body tenses up, “Come on, I don’t wanna...weigh you down or whatever.  Please, this is embarrassing enough.”

T’Challa bats his eyes realizing the problem, “Do you think I cannot lift you?”

You lean your head back, mortified.  “I know you are strong, I can tell.  But I’m a sturdy gal, I’m just trying to warn you.”

T’Challa sucks his teeth, going at lifting you again.  You close your eyes tightly as your weight becomes nothing in his arms.  You feel the bounce of his stride as you peak to see you are in motion.  T’Challa looks ahead, no signs of strain, he looks at you and winks.  Your cat could meow with how good he was making you feel right now showing off himself.  You hadn’t been lifted since grade school, and your current boo does it like you are a toddler.  God bless it.  

T’Challa puts you down a moment to get the door to his Lexus open.  T’Challa takes your hands as you slowly sit down, folding your legs in, careful to not bump your ankle against the door.

“How are you feeling?”  T’Challa asks, resting his hand on your knee, eyes wide with concern.

You nod, “I’m good, don’t worry.”  You cup the side of his face, causing him to lean his face into your palm.  He turns to kiss your palm before getting up to close your door and make his way to the drivers’ side.

Starting the engine, he asks, “Alright, now what is your address?”  as he searches for the GPS program in his dash.  You give it to him, praying to God Tavia hadn’t made it home yet.

Once you guys are on the road, T’Challa reaches over for one of your hands in your lap.  “Are you still ok?”

“Yeah, more than.  Thanks, by the way, for the ride.”

“Ahh, don’t thank me.  It’s the least I could do.  You were such a big help today.”  T’Challa says gripping your hand a little tighter.

“Hardly!  I took down two tables and almost broke an ankle.  Plus we won’t be able to go out tonight cuz of me.”  You say disappointedly.

“If I was by your side like I said I would, there would be known of these issues to begin with.”  T’Challa takes your hand, kissing the back of it.  

You almost forget your ankle when he warms you up like that.  A man admitting fault was a big turn on, you had to admit.  And you loved how affectionate he was, without pressure; just enough.  Looking at your ankle you remember something from earlier, “What was that device Shuri used?  It was like a portable X-Ray device?”

T’Challa nods slowly, “Precisely what it was.  Shuri developed it in her lab in Wakanda and it’s been pretty vital to our village.”

You think on this, “Wow, you guys have a lot more to you than I imagined.  It’s beautiful.”

T’Challa smirks, “The Western media would make you think we are impoverished but we have handled ourselves without outside help, and I think that says something.”  Your mind was churning with so many other questions but before you knew it, you guys made it your your place.  

Luckily you all have an elevator, so T’Challa only carried you, without hesitation, to the elevator then your door.  Setting you down, you get your keys together to find the one for your door.

“Umm, once I get inside, I should be able to manage if you need to make it back to the park.”  you say nervously.  

“Oh, they wouldn’t miss one person, I think.  If it’s comfortable with you, I want to check your ankle once more before I head back, though.”  He looks at you with a serious expression.

You nod, turning to the door to hide your excitement.  As you open the door, the apartment is dark and quiet, so Tavia must be having a good night.  Turning on the lights, you start hobbling to the couch.  T’Challa doesn’t miss a beat, ducking under your arm to support you as you sit down.  

T’Challa takes a couple decorative pillows and props them under your ankle, lightly inspecting it.  

“Well it doesn’t look worse, which is good.  Do you have little baggies and ice?”

You nod and point, “The fridge makes it, yeah.  And the drawer under the microwave should have some lunch bags to fill.”  

T’Challa gets to work, Macgyvering an ice bag for you.   As you lay back, you catch yourself smelling like the outside, and instantly get embarrassed.  You can’t get comfortable when you’re funky anyway, plus T’Challa would help you hobble around so might as well use him while he is here.

“Uh, T’Challa, can you hold off on the bag for a second.  I need to go to my room, if you can spare your shoulders.”  you ask.

“All the more for you to lean on, umhle.”  T’Challa says lovingly, as you direct him to the right room.  “It’s nice to see how you live on a daily basis.  You keep a nice home.”  T’Challa says as you reach your room.”

“My roommate gets most of the decorating credit, I gotta say.  I do tell her when to reel it in though, so points for creative direction goes to moi.”

As you step into your room, you declare, “So I need to shower, cuz yikes.”  You say sniffing yourself.  “But did you want to stick around or….”

“I would love to!”  He answers a little quicker than necessary.  “No problem at all.  Do you want me to order something?  We could still have our dinner here.”

“Yes!  Good idea.  Let’s just do a pizza, from that local spot we passed.”

“I am well aware of it.  Excellent choice.”  He takes his phone out as you get a change of clothes and head for the bathroom.

In the shower you give yourself a pep talk.  You are a goddess, queen!  With your prince out there lying in wait for this body.  He wants ALLADIS, sis!  Don’t get nervous, or shy.  If you run out of things to talk about, hey, you are on a bed, fill in the blanks.  Damn, Tavia really got into you.

You lather your body in berry scents as you rinse, giving yourself a towel off and quick moisturization.  You picked some shorts and a baby doll tank  to wear.  Still pajamas, but with a hint of lingerie appeal.  Opening the door you step out to see T’Challa flipping through the TV channels.  His head cranes in your direction.

“I didn’t think I’d smell something so heavenly until the pizza arrived.”  He says smiling, eyes darting down your body.

“Haha, good one.”  You say limping to the bed, sitting back.

“Was it too….”

“Don’t!”

“....cheesy?”  T’Challa says scrunching his nose.

You slap his back with an audible thud.  He holds takes your calf, placing it on his lap to ice with the bag he made earlier.  The cool sensation was relieving, making you moan audibly.  You bite your lip when you realize how comfortable you were getting.

T’Challa massages your calf as he holds the bag on your ankle, “Does that relieve you, umhle?”

You nod before answering, “Yeah, it does.  Keep doing it.”  You say, your vocal cords suddenly laced with honey as your voice dips seductively.

T’Challa rubs your calf some more.  “I told you it is nice to have something soft to rest my hands on.” studying your leg as he goes.

You could’ve jumped out of your skin with that comment.  So he DID know the double entendre, sly devil!

You chuckle trying to keep from freaking out before saying, “I’m pretty soft just out the shower though, don’t be fooled.  Takes a lot to maintain.”  You make a face behind T’Challa at your words.  Snatching an insult out of the jaws of a compliment, nice.

“You make it look effortless.” he says looking up at you.  “You think you could lend me some products?”  he says showing all those beautiful teeth to you.

You smile into your chest shaking your head.  “You can have whatever you like.  But you have to follow the steps or you’ll just be a mess!”

T’Challa squints at you, “Eh?  What process are you talking about?”

You swallow, hoping this doesn’t go over his head, “Well, you are on the right track practically.  I like to start with my calves, very important.  But I have so much more leg to go.”

T’Challa nods slowly, appearing to understand.  “I see, so then we go to…”  His hand hovers above your thigh.  You shiver in anticipation, “The knee!” planting his hand on your kneecap.

You guffaw, “Right!  Can’t neglect ashy knees! True!  Then what, Chacha?”

He looks at your knee quizzically like its a jigsaw to solve, “The only way to go is the…”  and without a word he snakes his hand up your thigh.  You bite your lip, elevating your hips under his touch.  

T’Challa tucks his lips as he notices your movement, “Is your reaction normal for the process?”   he asks as his voice has caught the honey coated timbre of seduction as well.  His eyes glaze over, looking from your face to your body, mouthslightly agape to the treats he will hopefully be soon to receive.

His hands grip both your thighs, one working inner, the other outer; his long hands encompass the surface area of your thickness easily.  Your walls start to talk back to you, awaiting their turn for a massage.

“When it’s done right, yeah.”  you say, unafraid at this point.  You pull T’Challa’s face into yours, gripping the back of head.  The kiss starts off as your regular ones do, only once did T’Challa try to slip tongue, but you go into a schoolgirl giggle fit when he had.  This time was different, there was no ‘will he, won’t he’ because you were both on the same page.  Your mouths opened simultaneously to welcome each other in.  T’Challa moves your leg away gently as the ice bag falls to the floor.  One of his hands grips your booty cheek, spreading it about like dough.  You felt the spread in your lips as you moaned against his mouth, gripping his back to wrestle his shirt up, feeling the warmth of his skin.  

You lean back on the bed as T’Challa hovers over you, sucking your neck; the sounds sensations of his lips against you could make you climax on its own.  Then he got the nerve to pepper your collarbone and chest area with kisses, gripping your titties up like the were ripe for the picking.

“I have been wanting to explore your body for weeks.”  He says suckling on your neck in between.  “You can’t imagine the torture I have sustained to remain respectful.”

You shiver at this confession.  All the feelings you had and that he gave you were mutual.  “I think I can, ‘Challa.  I feel it, 10 times more.”

You hadn’t gotten this far before, and it was becoming overwhelming for you.  You either had to stop or get it in.  Reaching for the button of his pants, you were shooting for the latter.  T’Challa freezes above you as he watches your hands undo his pants.  His breathing is heavily laden as you work the fly down to relieve his growing protrusion.

T’Challa begins to ask, “Umhle, are you sure-” before there is a knock on the front door.

You instantly dry up as you forgot the pizza was on the way, dropping your hands frustratedly.  T’Challa rests his head on your shoulder a moment, before unmounting you to gain his composure on the side of the bed.

You don’t see his face but an awkward amount of time passes before you sit up.  “I’ll get the door...”

T’Challa waves his hand in protest, “No, you rest your ankle, I’ve got it, I just...need time.”  He gets up, buckling and zipping his pants as he walks outside.  You cross your arms in wait, thinking about what almost happened.  You would have to take another shower with all the preheating he did to your oven.

T’Challa stands at the door with the box in his hand.  “Did you want to eat in here?”

He looked at you like a lost puppy.  You weren’t sure what he was thinking of, but you figured the moment between you both has passed for now.

You nod, patting the bed.  “Yeah, nothing fancy here.  Come on.”

T’Challa sits on the edge of the other side, placing the box between you both.  He picks up the ice bag to place on your ankle once more, patting your leg like cattle this time.  

The fresh smells makes your stomach churn as you remember how hungry you were, grabbing a slice; T’Challa takes one as well, taking a big bite.  You turn the TV to one of your tried and true comedies to binge.  As the canned laughter fills your room, you look over to T’Challa looking like he is about ready to doze off.

“T’Challa?”  you call to him.

His eyes flutter open as he looks to you, a lazy smile spreads across his face.  “I’m sorry, umhle.  I’m more tired than I thought before.”  He gets up to stretch, joints popping, groaning with relief.

“You can sleep over if you want...just sleeping, you know.  You’re tired, I’m tired, let’s just...sleep.”  you say rambling.  You wanted to make sure there was no pressure to spontaneously perform again.

T’Challa leans over the bed kissing you on the side of your face.  “You would take in a lost Wakandan to lay his head at your residence?”

You give him a defiant look, “I didn’t say the whole village, now.  Just you!”  You both laugh as he takes the pizza box and sets it on your table.  

“Plus my ankle has felt much better since you been here.”  You tell him as if he needed further convincing.  He climbs in next to you, resting his head on you, wrapping his arm around your waist.

“Then let’s dream for a speedy recovery.”  He says sleepily.

You feel his hand rub your side gently, slowing up until he goes to sleep.  The hum of his breathing sounds so sweet to you as you close your eyes to listen to its melody.  Turning off the TV, you shimmy down to lay next to him, stirring T’Challa only a little, who adjusts to pull you in for spooning as you call it a night.  You thought about how wild the night progressed but you still wouldn’t change a minute of it.  His arms beat the panther plushie you have been hugging on any day.

Morning rays flood your room as the sun woke you up.  You start to stretch and jerk with alarm when you feel him around you still.  You forgot for a second he stayed with you.  Adjusting your titties back in your shirt, you hear him waking up behind you as well.

“Mmm, is it morning already?”  T’Challa groaned.

“It is, Chacha.”  You look back at him, eyes still squinting awake but smiling at nonetheless.   “Do you want to do breakfast?”  you ask turning to face him.

T’Challa rubs your back as he replies, “I wish I could.  But I have to get back to the center to debrief about yesterday’s festivities.  It’s already-” he looks at his watch.  “9:30 am.  I’ll be there around noon, so I’ll go home and freshen up first.”

You whine at his plans, rubbing his chest for coaxing, “I don’t want you to go yet…”

His forehead meets yours, “How about I order you breakfast to enjoy in my absence and we make a date for my place next week?”  He looks at you for a reply.

You wipe some sleep out of his eye before answering, “I guess that sounds good.”  You exchange smiles before pecking a kiss on each other.  

Suddenly music blasts from the living room.  Tavia has been on a workout kick that requires a trap soundtrack to stay motivated.

T’Challa winces at the noise, “And we can be free from interruptions...”  He twirls a wayward twist in your hair.  “Completely free to do...anything.”

You squeeze your thighs at the thought before squirming away to get up.  “I’d like that, T’Challa.  Let me walk you out.”

Opening your bedroom door, you see Tavia hopping from one side of the room to the other.  She sees you come out.

“Hey girl!  Listen, when I’m done, let’s do a brunch thing or somethin!  I’m starving and got some stories for you!”  After one rotation she looks back at you for reply, by now noticing T’Challa.  Tavia stops in her tracks, pausing her video.

“Tavia, this is T’Challa.”  You make faces, pointing at Tavia from behind him as he walks over to her.

“Nice to meet a friend of (Y/N)’s.  I have heard wonderful things.”

“Same here...T’Cha...lla.”  Tavia says dumbfounded.  You give her a thumbs up.

You and T’Challa walk over to the front door going outside to kiss each other goodbye once more before closing the door.  

You and Tavia look at each other in silence for a second before bursting out in shrieks and giggles, jumping around.

“That’s my BITCH!  I see you with that morning after glow on you!  Talk to me, tell me something GOODT!”

You guys park on the couch before you start, “Ok, so first things first, we didn’t sleep together; like we literally just slept.”

Tavia instantly checked out.  “Oh HELL NO!  Did he go down on you at least?”

You shake your head.

“Come ON, B!  Well what the fuck is there to talk about??  How is he here in the morning but not for getting it in.  You need to swipe your card before it expires!”

“It doesn’t expire, hoe!  And I’m more than ready to swipe it, cash it, turn it in to the authorities, but if you let me tell the story-”

A knock raps on the door.  You both look at each other confused before you get up to answer.  Peeping through the hole, you see a delivery man, you think.

Opening the door, the man holds two sacks to you.

“Delivery, miss!”

“We didn’t order anything…” You say looking to Tavia.

The delivery man looks at the receipt. “A….Ms. Macchiato?”

The name rings bells.  T’Challa said he would order breakfast for you, but you forgot to turn it down.  

Tavia comes up behind you, “What is it?”

“T’Challa got us breakfast,”  you say taking the bags and thanking him.

“Bish whet??  Gimme gimme gimme!”

Tavia rips open a bag to see the omelettes, hashbrowns, toast, boiled eggs, sausage, bacon.  

Another knock comes to the door.  You jump to get it.

“Here are the drinks too, Miss.”  the delivery man huffs and puffs.

“Oh thank you!”  you reply taking the OJ and apple juice cups.

Tavia is tearing through her spinach omelette when she says, “Ok, I’m ready to hear it.  What freaky shit you put on him to do alladis??”

Part 5

Other Works

King Kil’mawalls  

T’akia

N’Jadaka’s Helpful Hands

Some Weeks Are Better Than Others

Song of Stevens

Commencement Day

Wakanda Got Y’all

My Ragtag

@sweetpeachjones@scrumptiouslytenaciouscrusade@hairhattedghooligan@universalbri @therevolution-willbelive@you-like-this-chain @sarcastic-sunshines@airis-paris14 @afraiddreamingandloving @kreolemami @lalapalooza718 @syreanne

No mans land Tags

afraiddreamingandloving groovybbyy and nyeebey, yall here too! I just can’t tag you for some reason <3</p>

[lizord-lord]

Splashing, Wading, Knee-Deep, Drowning

(Back once more with the next chapter! I’m still vaguely on schedule right? Counts if I wrote like 2 and a half pages today in a weird frenzy and now this page is a bit longer than the others but it’s ok because more is great? Wait I don’t even remember why I missed some days of writing why is my memory this bad ANYGAY! For once you have a chapter that @poisonedapples my shitbling and beta did not yell at me for, in fact, it actually has ROMAN!!! *cheering* I mean..My Virgil privileges got revoked...kinda had to..his dialogue is hilarious and I think my writing got more flower it’s great. Onwards!)

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Five

Warnings: Um...some angst and shit, emotional numbness, death mentions ofc, talk of grief? But this is more of a lighthearted chapter compared to......everything else lmao.

Chapter Four

One month later and about three chapters earlier

Roman’s intention had been to slip into the castle, change, and escape to the woods with his crossbow as soon as the last guest had taken their leave.

But, as he stood beside his mother and watched Duchess Valerie’s carriage roll off into the distance over the green hills, it was made clear that that particular wish would not be granted, as the first thing his mother did when he turned to pick up the cloth-wrapped bow from where it lay on top of a stone bench was reach to tightly grip his shoulder.

“Roman. We still have things to do.”

The prince’s shoulders slumped, and his hand fell back to his side. He’d hoped otherwise..and yet past experience told him not to be surprised.

“..does it have to be now?” He heard a sigh from behind him before his mother turned him to face her.

“Yes, it does, because if you pick up that bow you’ll run off and I won’t see you until sunset, and by then your head will be so far up in the clouds you won’t be able to even see the ground to determine where to step next. Come inside.”

Roman knew what would come next. He’d step inside and be dragged off to some meeting or other. A meeting where they’d speak of the king’s death. The king’s, not his father’s. It’d be glossed over as his ascension was spoke of, as wills were discussed, and it would even be better if he could scream, if he could yell about how disrespectful that was, how he needed time. That’s how it was in every story he’d read, in every play he’d seen, the grieving protagonist would fall to their knees and sob, lament, bargain with the gods to bring their loved ones back.

And yet not a single tear had clouded his eyes since he found out of his father’s passing.

If the situation hadn’t been so extreme he likely would have tossed out a quip about turning into Logan. But that would just be cruel, no, he just..could feel nothing. It frightened him. The bow was like a lantern, a single spot of light he could clutch to give him some sort of understanding, of sight in the endless fog he walked through, and the depths of the forest was the only place where things seemed clear. They belonged together. He belongs there, where no person could protest or tell him he needed to be doing anything differently.

By all means he should protest, tell his mother he didn’t want to be walled in by white, lifeless marble and pale stone.

But when he opened his mouth, what came out was “Okay.” Because he could see two things in her eyes, one of which being determination, the other being sorrow.

She could feel it, even if he couldn’t.

He didn’t hurt. She did. If she needed them..it was his duty to be there.

So he let her take the bow, and followed through the gate.

The arching windows normally spilled the golden light of afternoon through to cast a glow on the perfectly polished floors. But now, the normally brilliant crimson curtains had been replaced with black velvet drapes, the light blocked out so the halls no longer felt bright and comforting, but grim and hopeless.

It only made his numb heart feel cold. At one point his mother turned down a hall to the room that used to be his father’s and now was only hers, and Roman kept walking, almost bumping into a pillar on the way to his own bedroom. When he pushed open the wooden door, he didn’t even take a moment to appreciate the way the sunlight streaming through the floor-to-ceiling window behind his four-poster, crimson and gold draped bed brightened the room, washing away the gloom that the halls had cast over his shoulders. Because it had already attached itself to him, and the dull listlessness Roman felt showed in his movements. They were stiff and automatic, close the door, draw the curtains shut, step to his immense wardrobe and change. Not into the forest-green attire he wore to go out and hunt as he longed to, or even to his typical style of white and crimson. No, from the fancy black suit covered in glittering buttons and silver embroidery into a no less dark and gloomy, but slightly comfier alternative. He took longer than usual too, staring at nothing as he laced up his boots. The solitude did nothing for his mind.

When Prince Roman stood up, clad head to toe in the black of mourning that was still so prettily designed that it felt like a show he for once did not wish to play a part in, he did not feel like the title suited him.

For the next three days, Roman’s mind remained in quiet turmoil. He was shuffled from room to room, kept from the outdoors where he longed to escape, weighted down by responsibility and the constant reminder of what had happened. Normally his mind would be his respite, but it had grown gray with grief, and with him unable to seek revival, his usual fantasies were unreachable. He’d half stop paying attention during the discussion of wills, of letters of sorrow sent by frauds nobles who hadn’t been able to make the funeral. The only discussions he really remembered were those of the dreaded wife, which he usually managed to shut down and escape from. One such incident had just occurred, with him offering a rather poorly put-together excuse of needing to polish his sword and fleeing to his room, where he sat on the bed, head bowed, golden circlet feeling like a mountain pushing it down towards his clasped hands.

He could have sat like that for minutes or hours, face totally blank, when someone knocked at his door.

His first thought was that his mother had pursued him to continue the dreaded conversation, and he began to make a beeline for the closet to hide (although to be honest that was the last place he needed to be at the moment) but the voice that came through was not his mother’s. Rather, the voice was younger and stiff. Formal. “Your highness, the Count Veritas is here to seek audience with you.”

Roman’s thoughts of burying himself in cloaks immediately halted, along with his feet. “Let him in.” The door opened, and the count stepped inside the shaded space, pushing aside the blue fabric of his half-cape to offer a slight bow.

“Good afternoon my prince, I hope you are doing decently.” Roman threw a nearby coat on his face.

The noble yelped indignantly as he pushed the offending garment off, while Roman only laughed.

“Come on, Scroll Under the Bridge, still being so formal?” He revoked that opinion after the coat was launched back in his face.

Once the red cloth was no longer obscuring his vision, he was able to look up and see Logan Veritas’s folded arms and smug grin. Huffing, he tossed the jacket on the ground.

“So, you wanted to talk to me?”

The certainty in Logan’s demeanor seemed to falter for a second, but was quickly masked as he pushed his spectacles up his nose and resumed his previous pose.

“Yes, I did. You know, to see if you were doing alright, converse and such..” he spotted the count’s gray eyes flicker around the room. To the drawn curtains, the slightly messy corners, the black clothes on both Roman’s person and the ones tossed carelessly on his bed, which meant he hadn’t let any servants in, and lingering for a noticeable moment on the mahogany surface of his writing desk-completely clean and clear.

“Listen if you needed to vent. That sort of thing.”

There was silence between them for a moment. Roman could see Logan clearly taking advantage of that to scrutinize his posture and facial expression (which was no doubt drawn up and tense) for any clues of his mood. Yet he wouldn’t have to do that for long.

The prince’s shoulders slumped, and he almost felt the title roll off of them. Finally. He knew Logan wasn’t really...the best person to go to when he was having emotional issues. But he was all he had, the only friend he really had around his own age. Who wasn’t, you know, ordered to agree with him on basically everything.

Plus, sometimes, in times of great distress, having a more objective viewpoint was good.

But for now, Roman just took five steps to his right and slumped on the end of his bed, the same position he had been in before Logan arrived. He heard a sigh from the door, and a moment later, he felt the bed dip. The count had sat beside him. More silence as Roman compiled his thoughts, rubbing his left palm with the thumb of his right, switching, rubbing his wrists..

“It doesn’t hurt.”

“...it doesn’t?” He’d expected that much confusion. “No! It doesn’t. It doesn’t hurt at all, but it..” Roman trailed off, eyes darting across the floor as he searched for the words, just to make himself heard, he brought his hand up to rub his temples but ended up running it through his hair, gripping hard and tugging on his bangs. How could he explain? Dammit, why did poetry never come when you need it! He knew Logan would understand that! It was a language they both spoke, even when their own could not quite convey the thoughts!

Roman tossed his hands into the air, admitting defeat.

“It just doesn’t hurt!! It should, I know it should, I should be weeping, I should be bawling, he’s-he’s my father for goodness sake but I just..I just can’t! Everything is-everything’s just-” “Numb?” “.....yes.” Roman’s hands dropped. He buried his face in them, dammit the word had been on the tip of his tongue and it was just so simple! He was a mess.

Around the middle of a very long, very loud, very dramatic groan, the prince felt a hand move to rest in between his shoulder blades and slowly begin to rub circles into his back. The touch was light, hesitant, yet fluid.

And it felt nice.

It was a moment after his troubled mind had ebbed a bit when he heard Logan’s quiet voice again, slow and deliberate. He knew that tone; uncertainty that his words would be well received.

“...the grieving process is different for everyone. It seems, by your own description, that you are experiencing shock. You...you likely will fall into the depressive states later in the grieving process, but for now there isn’t much you can do to speed it up. Your mind needs time to fully work through and understand what has happened, and the only thing I know of that can help it do that is to spend some time clearing your head. Then it is a matter of if the other emotions—either rage or despair, hit you during a time of calm or a time of reflection. They commonly come suddenly. But they will come..and there’s nothing wrong with being unable to fully grasp the weight of losing a loved one in the immediate aftermath of it happening.”

A dry smile pulled at the prince’s lips.

“Did you learn that in a book, My dear scho-lord of the library?” He lifted his head up slightly from his hands, just in time to catch the look that flitted across Logan’s face, a twitch of his lips and unfocused eyes, just for the moment it took to let out a puff of air.

“My aunt, actually.”

“Ah.”

Roman remained in that position for a second to process. The physical contact, however small, did help. And so did the words, now that he let them sink in.

“I haven’t been out of the castle grounds since the day before..” he admitted with a sigh, trying to straighten his posture. Logan made a dissatisfied noise, pursing his lips.

“Did your mother not let you?” Roman nodded with a sigh. “No! She’s kept me here, with wills and letters and plans! It’s like-it’s like he wasn’t even a person..” his head fell back into his hands, words he had only felt in vague bursts of frustration spilling from his lips. “All anyone’s worried about is how to run the kingdom without him…he was my dad too! But no one cares about that, all I’ve gotten is those damn pitying glances! Not a single ‘I’m sorry’ since the funeral, not even from my own mother!! It’s like she’s trying to pretend it didn’t happen! It’s not-aaargh!” He threw his hands up into the air, feeling Logan’s hand fall off his back as he toppled backwards onto the soft mattress. “It’s not fair..”

“..hm. So it was the latter.” “...huh?” Roman peeked up from between his fingers that he had dramatically pressed over his eyes, confused. Logan explained. “The latter. Of my earlier statement, you were hit with anger at a time of self-reflection.” The curiosity vanished from Roman’s face like a child sneaking cake when the baker comes.

“That is literally one of the least helpful things you could have said.”

The count rolled his eyes. “It was only an observation..” “We were having a moment and you ruined it!” “I ruined it? I was only commenting on an earlier statement!” the count huffed, and Roman opened his mouth to come up with another (quite stinging and witty mind you!) retort..and then let it fall closed. He threw one hand over his eyes, sighing loudly. “Oh, it’s not worth it..”

“What, not in the mood to call me out for ‘having the emotional intelligence of a brick wall?’” The tone was tinging on playful, yes, but there was real worry and surprise there. Apparently, it was that statement that brought back Logan’s concern. Roman never yielded in an argument.

“No..what am I going to do Logan! I’m being locked away like a damsel in distress, I can’t just stay here for however many weeks it will take for everything to get sorted out..”

“..have you tried asking your mother? Telling her that this is taking a toll on you?” Logan offered, albeit lamely. He received a scoff in response.

“Of course! I very nearly begged her yesterday, and the witch refused me sanctuary! I am truly Rapunzel, locked away in stone, doomed to never let my face or magnificent locks see the sun! Clearly my only option is to run away from these dark cl-” Roman sat up suddenly, and Logan was filled with dread. That was a very bad place to stop that sentence.

“...how did I not think of that before! I’ll simply sneak out!”

Well, at least he could say he knew his friend..he also knew that his next words would be blatantly ignored.

“That is a very bad plan-”

But as predicted, the prince had already leapt off his bed and was racing to the closet, diving right to the bottom of his dresser and pulling out an ensemble much different from his usual color scheme of blinding white and scarlet. This was a tweed jacket in a shade of dull green, the trousers a dark brown. Brown leather boots-far less shiny than his usual polished black ones, were pulled out after-and Logan didn’t get to see what happened next, having to turn around due to the excited prince currently having no sense of decency and changing right there.

“It’s already evening, so I’ll just sneak out through the kitchens..maybe grab a snack too-” Logan heard the sound of fabric over skin and slight rustling, that must be Roman buttoning the jacket- “-and no one will even notice I’m gone! And I can finally test out that crossbow, eh Logan?”

The count blinked. Actually taken aback that the prince had remembered he was here.

“I suppose, is it safe to turn around now?” From the thud of a boot that he heard behind him and the offended gasp (he didn’t even need to look to know Roman had placed his hand to his chest as if wounded) Logan could infer that yes, it was. Though his lack of doing so brought out another comment.

“Are you saying you don’t want to ogle at my amazingly chiseled physique?” “Yes,” he replied in his flattest and most disinterested voice. “Logan, you wound me!”

“You didn’t answer my question.” “....yes, it’s safe to turn around..if my fabulous muscles sicken you that much,” the prince huffed, and Logan did finally turn around. The hunting outfit was rather tight-fitting—of course it was, as Roman had just proven, he would go to any end to show off his good looks even to bears in the forest. And just as predicted, he looked as deeply offended as if Logan had just told him he was descended from trolls.

When there was no retort from the count, Roman just crossed his arms, close to pouting like a petulant child.

“Well anyway, as I was saying, I can finally test out that crossbow you gave me, and no one should even notice I’m gone!”

“Not even the guards? Who should have been extra alert after having so many guests and with the usual structure of command gone?” The prince seemed to deflate slightly, a frown creasing his face—but almost immediately he perked up again. “Well then I’ll head through the garden, they don’t post too many guards there and even if I’m caught I can just say I was smelling the roses!”

“And if they question your outfit?” Logan challenged once more, folding his arms over the dark fabric of his shirt. But Roman was ready this time.

“I’ll tell them I didn’t want to get any dirt on my regular clothes. Plus, even if they don’t believe me, it’s not like I’m forbidden from leaving the grounds, just...highly discouraged by my mother and she hasn’t exactly told the guards to keep me inside! I am still the prince, I just don’t want her catching wind.”

Logan slowly nodded. For once, his friend seemed to have thought this out. Maybe it wouldn’t end in disaster.

The key word was maybe.

“I assume you’re going to run off right now?”

“Well that was the plan—not much sunlight left after all!” Roman bounced on his heels excitedly, glancing out the window, which, though mostly covered by curtains, had a line of golden light streaming through that easily indicated it was getting to be late evening.

Logan nodded, and then stood up. “Well, then either my efforts succeeded or failed horribly, I’ll have to see.”

Roman waved a hand dismissively, a cocky grin sliding easily onto his face. “Oh come on now Count Veri-blah, I’m feeling better already! Now get out of here and don’t tell anyone!” Said noble rolled his eyes to the heavens at the nickname, and the indication that he would rat on his friend about something that clearly meant a lot to him. He let Roman wave him towards the door, though opened it himself.

“Fine, but I’ll be back  soon and when I do you’d better be here, and without a squirrel hidden under your bed.” He grinned slightly as Roman huffed-a nerve he remembered. “That was one time okay? And it was injured!” “From what I remember hearing news of, it escaped and you decided to chase it around the castle for two hours.”

“Wha-well I had to protect the people who might be scared of rodents!!”

The grin was spreading now. “Perhaps, but I don’t think that was the message everyone else got, again, the rumor I heard was that you referred to the squirrel as ‘Mrs. Fluffybottom’ and were crying ‘don’t you love me’ as it attempted to escape down to the kitchens.”

“I, ugh—that...well that was a rumor!” Roman sputtered, “You would trust a rumor more than I, your dear friend?”

“Indubitably,” Logan deadpanned, and closed the door behind him.

“Well goodbye to you too,” the prince mumbled through the thick door, stalking back to his bed and sitting down on it with a pout. He’d have to wait a bit to go out, but honestly, the nerve of that know-it-all! You’d think a friend of such caliber would care a bit more about his friend’s dignity!

Though, the prince could admit...it had been kind of him to come by.

So there was that, but still!

When those petulant thoughts had calmed, and it felt like had enough time had passed, Roman stood. Pushing the curtains back slightly confirmed that he would have to act fast if he wanted to get maximum daylight—which he was already wasting! The prince straightened his shoulders. A grin formed on his face as he strode back to the closet, but this time to the corner where his weapons were stored.

First, he picked up the scabbard for his sword, buckling the black belt around his waist in a smooth, practiced motion, the familiar weight of the weapon settling easily against his left him. And then for a less familiar weapon-the crossbow. He’d used them before of course, but only to an extent, and of course, any new weapon would be strange to wield at first, no matter the type.

He carefully lifted up pale bow, then the sling he’d smuggled in from the armory the day before (what, he wanted to be prepared) making sure he would be able to easily remove the weapon before slinging the leather strap over his shoulder.

It was at this point he realized that he would not be able to pass off his venture as ‘smelling the roses’ when he was clearly armed.

Hm.

Well he wasn’t going to give up now, dammit! He’d just have to not get caught. And that would be easy!

Confidence restored as easily as a knife through butter, Roman turned and left the closet, removing the golden circlet on his head and placing it carefully by his bedside, before easing open the door and slipping out into the quiet hall.

Lady luck smiled upon Roman that day, for he managed to get to the kitchens without anyone seeing him. Of course once he arrived there wasn’t any hiding from the chefs preparing dinner, and what with there not having been a ‘family meal’ since the death of his father, they were not as focused on being perfectly on time as usual. But he was the prince. While guards might question him, all it took was a wink and a finger to his lips to keep questions from coating the air as he slipped out the door the cooks used as a shortcut to the piles of firewood outside.

Roman breathed in the fresh air gratefully, but his smile faded slightly as he passed under the arch that led to the garden. The numb cold settled in as his leather boots padded along the same marble tiles that the shoes of funeral goers had walked along only days earlier, as his eyes landed upon cut flowers that had dropped from bouquets and had found their way into blooming bushes, as he passed the marble table that a casket had laid on.

Roman stopped.

He grasped his wrist in his left hand, eyes dropping to the ground.

And then he frowned.

I am not going to linger on a lack of feeling.

That was the whole point of getting away. As hard as it was to lift up his chin and resume his path towards the opposite arch, he must do it. This was his escape! None of this existed out in the woods, he’d been numb and hopeless for days! No more. He was getting away.

Sorrow would come in time.

It took him a moment. Two. Three. And then Roman’s feet were moving again, down the path and to the archway that led him to the woods.

He strode out into the open-or would have, if he hadn’t noticed a guard passing by him at that very moment. He yanked himself back into the garden and ducked back behind the gently sloped wall of stones the obscured the garden from the outside, and he must have not been noticed, as the guard did not follow.

Another two minutes passed there, the prince with his back against the wall, until he dared another peek. Nothing. Sighing in relief, Roman adjusted the strap over his shoulder and was off, making sure his footsteps were quick and light against the grass. It was only thirty steps to the edge of the woods from the archway, and he cleared it without discovery, ducking his head below a branch and pushing into the forest.

This was home.

Roman breathed in the scents of the woods, the musty scent of mushrooms, the damp earth, the sweet scent of the few spring flowers that bloomed as well as the crisper grasses and young herbs that poked from under bushes and between the roots of trees. And he listened. His footsteps, near-silent with practice, were yet a steady pattern, one foot lightly placed down toe first, any rigid twig wormed under the arch of his foot where his weight would not snap it, and repeat. It was not the swiftest way of movement by any means, but with as much practice following the trails of these woods as he had, he made decent time. And the silence was important. As he was both less likely to draw attention from unsuspecting prey or predator, he could listen.

His ears caught the faint trickle of a nearby stream, the happy song of a few birds, a rustling-he paused. Something small, a rabbit perhaps, but it fell silent before he could pinpoint the sound. No matter.

Roman strode through the forest with a newfound joy, a proud grin on his face and determination in bright hazel eyes that swept the undergrowth for prey like a hawk. And yet, even as he strode deeper into the wood, and the brush beneath his feet began to thicken and his pace was forced to slow, he’d only drawn his crossbow on a rabbit that quickly scampered away.

Bad luck.

But Roman kept his thoughts optimistic, even as the light that filtered between the dark leaves overhead and scattered dappled patterns over the forest floor shifted from gold to orange, and continued on ever deeper, and just slightly quicker. He wanted to catch something before getting back! And he would, he certainly would. However, getting lost in positive thoughts is still getting lost in thought, and despite the good intentions..it led the prince’s mind to wander. Images of shooting down a deer or even some more dangerous beast, like a wild boar, or even something more fantastical, like a kelpie or a troll were playing in front of his eyes rather than reality, where the orange glow was fading slightly and rough bark brushed up against his broad shoulders.

At least until his searching right boot found a fallen tree rather than smooth footing, and he toppled forward with a very undignified yelp, throwing his hands forward to stop his face from smacking into the dirt but not in time to spare his knees from banging against the log.

Roman grunted loudly in pain, gritting his teeth. Okay. No more daydreaming in the woods...ow…

Groaning, the prince got to his feet, dusting dirt off his palms and grimacing at the scrape along the heel of his left hand, then wiping them on his trousers, which were luckily still intact. Dirty, but at least he wouldn’t have to get them sewn up.

When he took his next step, there were a few things brought to his immediate attention. One-he must have banged his right kneecap, because it was throbbing like a fresh bruise (likely) and while it wasn’t agonizing, it was very unpleasant, and even more so due to having been inflicted by a simple log. How embarrassing.

But wounded knees and pride was..not the most important at the moment. As when Roman looked up, and then around, he noticed that the canopy was so thick only the barest hints of sunlight peeked through, and that the trees around him were too thick to put his arms around, along with being set close and dense. The flowers had disappeared too, the wood he knew, green and lush and fragrant with springtime blossoms and filled with animals big and small, had been replaced with a dark, constricting forest that stretched what felt like miles above his head with not an animal or spot of color in sight-except for the minimal patches of fading sunlight.

Oh...dear.

For a moment, Roman’s chest clenched with fear, not only did was he unsure of where he’d come from, but the whole atmosphere of the wood sent a slight chill up his spine.

But no! This was not how a prince should behave when confronted with a foreboding forest.

They’re just trees. And if they happen to be hiding beasts, well that’s what I came to find some anyway! This is just a little change of plan.

No need to be afraid.

So he strode on, but noticeable kept his hand on the pommel of his sword. Bravery could not diverge into recklessness after all..he’d learned that many times the hard way. And he remembered to watch his step.

For another indefinite while, he stepped through the dark wood at a pace only a tad slower than his previous, the slight nervousness in his gut only serving to tune his reflexes (or so he liked to tell himself). But soon, he noticed just a tad more light filtering through the branches. Relief was unavoidable, along with the instinct to follow it. Roman’s steps came faster, harder, until he was almost running, and he breathed a large sigh when at last the shadows parted.

He stood at the edge of what he had assumed was a clearing-but no, this seemed to be the edge of the woods for at least some extent, as while the branches still stretched, intertwined fingers reaching for the sinking sun, the trunks either leaned out over the soft grass or stood as tall as ever, but with the exception of a few, none sprouted beyond this point.

That made sense, for as he had noticed, the undisturbed rass before him was not that of a simple hole in the woods, but the bank of a magnificent lake that gleamed with reds, oranges, and golds reflecting of its mirror-like surface, the reflections of dark trees unblurred on the water.

It was beautiful.

Roman stepped forward as if trapped in a trance, kneeling by the shore and carefully dipping his hand into the water. It was cool and almost clear, and he quickly scooped some into his hands for a drink.

He could have sat there, watching the sunset and gazing at the last rays of sunlight now dipping below the horizon for however long it took for the sky to fade to black, and likely would, if not for the shape that appeared around what he would call a corner for now—this section of the lake was further inland than the rest, like a pond attached to the main body, and there was must lake to the left and right of it he could not see.

It was a bird of some sort, silhouetted black against the last light of sunset, and a grin appeared on Roman’s face, so he might have a chance of catching something after all! Well, first he had to rush back to the cover of the shadows, but the bird had not seemed to notice his rush. Nor the slight sounds of the prince lifting the crossbow from his back and loading in a bolt.  It swam across the lake to step onto the shore, and it was then that he realized the bird was in fact a swan, and not silhouetted either, oh no, every feather on its body was black as the night about to fall.

Roman raised the bow-and then stopped. A second thought flitted across his mind, this animal was truly something else, would it be right to kill it for something like a trophy? It wasn’t like he needed the meat..he bit his lip, lowering the weapon ever so slightly, and the swan stood there, as if trapped in the moment just like he was, its face turned towards the faintest light still left on the lake, as it faded, darkened, and the water was left black.

But he’d been looking all evening and found nothing! Sure, it might feel a bit better to have found a more common animal in a moral sense, but at the same time what a glorious bird! And he might actually make a kill. Surely it was—no, it was worth it. So Roman raised the bow again, finger on the trigger-

And then he went so still you could have sworn he’d caught sight of a cockatrice.

For the bird..it wasn’t quite a bird anymore. Or if it was it must be magic, for as the darkness swallowed its black form and silver light replaced gold on its feathers, it grew.

And yet it didn’t grow into a larger bird. Its body slimmed and neck shrunk, and Roman watched with both awe and a veiled sense of apprehension as it shifted size and shape, he was sure it would become a fae of some sort, like those shape-changers he’d read about, faeries that lured in prey—be it animal or human—with the shape of creatures that drew them in, only to change to their true form of an eyeless figure that hung with moss and swallow them whole, but that was not what happened.

No.

Feathers did not fade into stringy black hair, the beak did not stretch into hundreds of needle-like teeth, instead, black plumage faded both to pale skin and dark cloth, wings shrung to arms and stick-like legs thickened.

Before him was a young man.

A young man dressed in a shabby black jacket that had been repeatedly patched with what looked to be some dull purple fabric, matching dark trousers that had thin rips over the knees, and with hair only a few shades darker than his own that hung over his eyes.

Roman gasped—and the man’s head whipped around—he didn’t know what he’d expected, but he did know it wasn’t black smudges under piercing brown eyes. Somehow, the stranger was as hauntingly beautiful as a human as he had been as a swan. And now he was staring straight into Roman’s eyes, and the prince was about to open his mouth to (to what, introduce himself? Ask what the stranger was?) when the man reached into his jacket, and he realized he was seeing this all in a slow, entranced vision.

The blade of a silver knife just barely missed Roman’s cheek, thrown with terrifying strength and precision that buried itself in the tree behind him.

“WHAT THE ABSOLUTE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING WITH THAT THING!?”

(Roman makes me write so many italics WHY MUST TUMBLR NOT READ ITALICS AAAAA! But anyway, they finally meet! And yes you two, pointing weapons at each other, great. First. impressions. *slow claps*. But I am proud of all the platonic Logince in this chapter because it’s my shit and just. Yes. Now I hope I can keep this up?)

Tags: @royallyanxious @whatwashernameagain  @sandersmarvel @the-incedible-sulk @supremestoverlord @hanramz-the-fander @childhood-wishes-and-dreams @thestoryoferissur @nepturanus-thy-planet @anony-phangirl @pleasebringmerlinback @ultimate-queen-of-fandoms2 @applecannibal @super-magical-wizard @unicornlogan @annonymmm

[watchingcutscene]

No Man’s Sky

Pairing: Levi x Reader

Fandom: Shingeki no Kyojin/Attack on Titan

Word Count: 2000+

Note: The nsfw ban has me pretty disappointed with tumblr tbh, but i guess that hasn’t really stopped me from posting my stuff (still, if you want more regular updates and most recent stuff, pls follow my DeviantArt or even AO3)....This was written before the game No Man’s Sky actually came out, and we were all excited for it (before it actually came out and proved to be much less exciting than anticipated)

---

She was an unpredictable summer thunderstorm. He was a constant light drizzle. She was an editor, a challenger, a ghost of wilderness that haunted the urban scene. He was an executive director, a nine-to-five worker, a man with a suit and tie constantly crisp and fresh and clean. She liked playing video games after half a bottle of Jack Daniels. He liked seeing his username ranked first on the score board. 

They met through her forgetfulness. When Levi returned home nearly 10pm, he found a girl slouched against the apartment door next to his. Her hair was hastily put up in a messy knot. She had on a white button-up, tucked into a dark grey pencil skirt, all wrinkled between her back and her apartment door. She sat cross-legged with her worn out Chucks. The combination of Converse and business attire was what made his gaze linger. When she heard his footsteps, she looked up, her (e/c) eyes vibrant against his grey ones. She had a can of beer in her hand. “Hey,” she greeted him as she got up on her feet. Her voice was light and cheerful. “Hey…” Levi reluctantly replied, having not the slightest clue who this woman was. “I live next door,” she explained, flashing a flawless smile while dusting off her butt, “and I forgot my keys.” Levi’s suspicion eased, he shifted his bag of store-bought premade food to his left hand as he reached for his keys in his pocket. “Do you mind if I climb over your balcony?” He froze for a second, the sound of metal echoed through the hallway as the keys dangled in his hand. He met her gaze a second time. “You can,” his said, voice unintentionally impassive, though his usual deadpan of a face softened, “but isn’t that a little dangerous?” “I’ll be fine,” she replied, her voice trailing off on a high note. He nodded as he opened the door. She marched into his apartment after him, following him to his balcony. “Thanks,” she mumbled with one foot on the railing of the veranda. He watched her back intently, muscles tense, ready to launch himself at her should she falter the slightest. But she was more than graceful when she hurled herself over the railing, landing accurately onto her own property. When she stood up, the now empty can of beer still in hand, she turned and waved at him before heading through the sliding doors and disappearing out of sight. Levi stood there, staring after her, until many seconds had passed and the light in her apartment flickered on. She was pretty, quirky, and a little strange. Also, he noted after replaying the scene of her launching over the balcony, her underwear was black. The same evening a week later, he had begun to wonder when he’d run into his neighbour again, when he heard a knock on his door. He had changed out of his work clothes, and was sporting some grey sweatpants and a black V-neck. Off course, she was there when he answered, this time, she had her hair done up neatly, the bags under her eyes covered by the perfect shade of concealer, and her lips were graced with a wine coloured lipstick. Below her silky blouse and navy trousers, she still had on her old Converse. “Hello,” she smiled, lips curling perfectly, to which he replied with a small smile of his own, “have you had dinner yet?” It was past midnight. Levi leaned himself against his doorway. The distance between him and his visitor drawing a little closer than he had intended. She didn’t falter the slightest, her (e/c) orbs vibrant and unyielding. Seeing the plastic bag in her hand, he lied, “No, I haven’t.” “Good,” she replied, delighted, “I bought some sushi and liquor, and also the new game No Man’s Sky, care to join me?” Her toothy smile was dazzling. Levi felt compelled to smile back, it was contagious. “Um,” the man let out a low chuckle. Laughter was a thing his body was not accustomed to. “Sure”. She stepped back and toward her own apartment, keys already in hand. He followed suit. “Just think of this as a token of my gratitude,” she said as she fumbled with the lock, and when it clicked, added “I cleaned my room, don’t worry.” The apartment was smaller than his, and while it did look like she gave some last-ditched effort to organize the piles of magazines and video games scattered about the living room floor, it was not clean. At least not compared to his anyway. Levi wondered about the room gingerly, afraid to disturbed the organized mess. She was behind the kitchen counter, freeing the boxes of low quality sushi from the plastic bag. She also pulled out a bottle of Jack Daniels. While she was reaching for beer from the fridge, he remarked, “you have a lot of magazines”, notably a lot of issues of the same magazine. “I’m an editor,” she responded as she placed the various kinds of alcohol and plastic containers of sushi on the coffee table, along with two shot glasses. “Are you a gamer?” she asked half-heartedly, turning on the PS4 that was placed on the floor under her flat screen. “Yeah,” he admitted, picking up the DVD case labeled “No Man’s Sky”, the art was quite impressive. “But I haven’t played this one,” he added. “Hmmm..” she turned back to face him, opening a can of beer and bringing it to her lips before mumbling, “What do you play?” Levi got a can of his own, chugged half of it, and answered half-heartedly, “I don’t know.” She chuckled, “what do you mean you don’t know? Like what, FPS?” He nodded. She giggled to herself and shook her head, mumbling something under her breath he could not hear. They spent the night getting tipsy and exploring the universe. He named planets after people and places, and she named them after the underdogs of the material world. It was easy to distinguish, his were planets called “Zeus” or “Nagoya”, and hers were planets named “Fish Tacos” or “Toe Nail Clippings”. Alcohol really did stimulate creativity. Normally, games like No Man’s Sky would not be Levi’s cup of tea. There was no defined objective, no competition, and therefore no sense of accomplishment. Though he hated to admit it, he liked the gamer clichés: Counter Strike, Call of Duty, and the new Star Wars. He was pretty much a stereotype. She was all that he was not. She didn’t need to vent her stress through virtual reality violence. Game art and animation were the most important. She never paid attention to score boards or kill streaks. She played all her games tipsy. Despite that, Levi still went out and bought himself No Man’s Sky the next day on his way home from work. In fact, he had to visit three different shops to find one that wasn’t sold out. He almost pulled an all-nighter trying to fulfill his purpose as a hitchhiker in the galaxy that first night. He popped open a bottle of whisky that had been collecting dust in his cabinet since the dawn of time, and named his first planet after the girl next door. He told her about his purchase over dinner, which he had invited her to when they ran into each other again one morning before work. His coworkers (namely Hanji) would go nuts if they ever found out Levi asked a girl to dinner. She was wearing a black jump suit with heels and bright red lipstick, looking fierce and powerful and oh-so-beautiful. She was delighted. “I didn’t think you were the type to play those games,” she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, “What did you name your first planet?” Levi was not prepared for that. The tips of his ears flushed pink. “Um,” he must have looked surprised, “I named it…Chuck Taylor”. She frowned in bemusement, “What?” “Oh, you know,” he looked down at his plate, desperately trying to keep his cool, “it’s just…a thing,” he failed. She laughed it off, not pressing him any further. They bonded, for the first time, over things beyond video games. Her favourite flavour of ice cream. His collection of cufflinks. Existential despair. Childhood memories. Allergies. His feelings of tender curiosity found its shoring and morphed, without warning, into a heat wave, a revelation. He fell in love. That was a first too. One night she called him out of the blue just to ask what he was doing. “I’m playing No Man’s Sky,” he couldn’t stop the smile from creeping up his visage. It was a good feeling to have someone call just to ask what you were doing. “Hey what a coincidence!” her voice was very high pitched, “me too!” Levi hesitated before asking, “are you tipsy again?” “Uh-huh,” she didn’t even bother to hide it. “Why do you always play while intoxicated?” he finally thought to ask. “Well,” she began, he could hear the background music from the game playing through the phone, “reality is really demoralizing when you’re sober.” “What does that mean?” She paused to think, “It’s that kind of thing you know. Apparently, there are 18 quintillion planets you can explore in this game.” “Okay…” he ensured her he was still listening. “That’s already such an unfathomable number, but in reality, there’s probably more planets out there,” she continued. “We spend our entire lives being indoctrinated with the brilliance of humanity, but that brilliance is actually nothing but a speck of dust”. Levi paused, processing. “You are very well-articulated for a drunk person,” was his reply. She giggled, “well I’ll have you know that I have a master’s degree in English lit and culture”. He let out an exhale of laughter, “impressive.” The line fell silent. Neither of them knew what to say. “Sometimes I think people are like that too,” it was she who broke the silence, continuing with her drunken philosophical generalizations about human existence, “do you know the book Kafka on the Shore?” Her brain made pretty big leaps when she was drunk. “No,” he replied simply. The background music from the game was no longer echoing through the phone, replacing it were the low hum of traffic and voices of urban life. “Well, it’s by this Japanese author – Murakami,” she continued, “he wrote about this myth, where humans used to have two heads and two hearts, but because the gods feared our strength and power, they cut us in half, so now we have to spend our entire lives searching for our other half.” “That’s very poetic,” Levi stood up to stretch. “But according to No Man’s Sky,” her voice sounded a little distant, muffled by background noises and blurred by wires transmitting telephone signals, “you will never find your other half. Because it’s simply statistically impossible. They say it’ll take 5 billion years to explore every planet in the game, that’s simply too many life times. We can’t afford that.” “But it’s happened,” Levi interrupted, remembering the Google headline, “on the first day of its release, in fact. One player landed on another player’s planet. They contacted each other to meet up at the same location in the game,” he seemed so eager to prove something. She became interested, “did they?” “Yeah,” Levi switched the phone to his left hand, “but apparently they couldn’t see or interact with each other. The game didn’t support multiplayer I guess.” She took some time to think, "well, at least our world supports multiplayer." "What?" "Cause I can see and interact with you." "Well, if you put it that way, I guess..." There was a long pause. Levi became distracted by the background noise on her end. “Hello? Where are you?” he was a little concerned. She was drunk after all. She didn’t reply for a while. “On my balcony.” He was slightly taken aback. Without a word, Levi pulled open the glass doors beside his living room and stepped out into the chilly evening air. “Hey,” her voice synced with the copy of it echoing through his phone. She waved. Her hair was down and flowing through the breeze. It was a mirrored image of the night many days before, she had one foot over the railing. Without warning, she made a leap, the light from her phone screen illuminating Levi’s visage as she landed on his balcony and stumbled into his arms. A moment of silence passed before he sighed in relief, “we have to stop meeting like this,” he chuckled, “what were you doing out here?” “Looking for my other half,” she mumbled sleepily, wrapping her arms around him, head resting on his chest. “I found you.”