#i learned how to make sparkles twinkle so that's cool @u@

[jeeaark]

Hey there! My Tav (Mai) is starting the Society Of Friendly Tempered Illithids. (S.O.F.T. Illidhids) (Badges to follow) ... Does GreyGold wanna join? Emps can be in *on probation* Mai would like GG. They *kinda sorta* ended up being an the Illithind Goddix of Friendship and very much approves of GreyGold's dedication to Friendship!

Greygold would love to join~ <3

[thesymphonytrue]

Hi hello!!!

“Oh honey, I’d never be jealous of you.”

This line has SUCH Elle energy!! Whatever ship u want but it would be so cool if she said it

I immediately thought of El with this line, too!!! So yes....she says it!

Peter/Elizabeth

Pre-canon

"Oh honey, I'd never be jealous of you."

Elizabeth turned over in bed, surprised to find a cold, empty spot where Peter usually slept. Sighing, she propped herself up and checked the time: 3:00 am. Furrowing her dark brows, she pulled back the covers and tiptoed down the hallway to the top of the stairs. Peering into the living room, she saw Peter.

He was sitting on the couch, hair still messy from their evening romp hours ago, clad in a white t-shirt and boxers. One hand loosely held his phone to his ear, while the other rubbed his eyebrows wearily. But on his lips, on those wonderful lips that devoured Elizabeth almost daily, was a tiny smile, a sparkle of amusement and infatuation.

Neal Caffrey, Elizabeth thought.

This was the third night in a row that Neal Caffrey had called Peter and while Elizabeth didn’t so much mind Peter being all-consumed by his job, post-midnight phone calls were…

Intriguing.

In Elizabeth’s mind, Neal was a brilliant mind who had fallen into the wrong crowd (criminals) and latched onto Peter’s stability, whilst also out-smarting him on almost every turn.

And Peter fucking loved it.

When Peter Burke was challenged, Peter Burke thrived. Elizabeth smiled to herself; she knew this on an emotional, intellectual, and sexual level about her partner. Peter was meticulous about learning everything about his pursuit, making him an excellent FBI Agent, but even better in bed.

She smiled coily to herself and decided tonight would be the night she intervened. She couldn’t have a criminal stealing her husband away, could she? Well aware that she was still in lingerie from earlier (a lovely lacy black thing that left absolutely nothing up to the imagination), Elizabeth fluffed her hair, squared her shoulders, and pranced down the stairs like a runway model.

Peter was mid-chuckle when he spotted her, cheeks flushing and eyes widening at the sight of her soft curves. She walked over to him like a lioness stalking her prey and plucked the phone from his hands.

“Hello, Neal Caffrey,” she said cooly into the phone.

She could practically feel him grinning on the other end.

“Is this the famous Mrs. Burke? I was convinced Peter was lying about having a wife. How do you put up with him, he’s insufferably stubborn,” Neal rattled off as if he and Elizabeth were the best of friends.

Elizabeth couldn’t help but feel a smile tickle her lips as she stole a glance at Peter, whose mouth was propped open in despair and eyes wild with panic.

“Well, you’re right about that,” she said, proceeding to straddle Peter and play with his hair while keeping Neal on the line.

“So why are you up at this hour?” Neal chirped, “Are you jealous?”

Elizabeth chuckled, low and sultry, leaning in and kissing Peter’s neck, to which Peter suppressed a groan and motioned for her to hang up the phone immediately.

“Oh honey, I could never be jealous of you,” she said, speaking to Neal, but looking directly into Peter’s honey-brown eyes, whose pupils were now fully dilated.

“Have Peter shown you my picture?” Neal asked, audibly smirking.

Elizabeth narrowed her eyes, realizing she didn’t know anything about this man other than his name and criminal habits.

“No, he hasn’t,” her gaze flicked to Peter, who was still clueless as to the nature of their conversation. She caressed Peter’s cheek, “But looks don’t matter to Peter,” her eyes twinkled as she widened her legs on Peter and pressed herself closer to him, “Peter loves smart—”

“Well isn’t he lucky that he’s got both in you, Elizabeth,” Neal cut her off, as if he knew exactly what she was trying to do.

“Hang up the phone!” Peter mouthed desperately.

Elizabeth’s eyebrow arched in pleasure at hearing this as she surveyed Peter, practically panting after her.

“Thank you for the compliment, Neal,” Elizabeth purred simultaneously into Peter’s ear and the phone, “Now say goodnight to Peter and let him come back to bed with his wife.”

Neal let out a bright laugh at this, one that even Peter could hear through the phone. Peter turned beet red and promptly snatched the phone back from Elizabeth and gripped her waist, gently pushing her off of him and setting her down next to him as he stood.

“Peter! I didn’t know that you had such an active—-“

“Shut it, Caffrey! Goodnight!” Peter barked, clicking the phone off, Neal’s laughter still echoing in Elizabeth and Peter’s mind.

Elizabeth stood and snaked a hand around Peter’s chest from behind, pressing her breasts into his back. She felt him tighten in response and she rested a hand over his fast beating heart.

She glanced down at the coffee table, Neal Caffrey’s file open. A photograph was pinned to the edge of the file.

Slightly blurry due to Neal being in motion, it was a picture of a dark haired man with brilliant blue eyes, chiseled jawline, and wild smile. He was handsome enough to make any woman–or man–swoon.

“Now that you’re all hot and bothered,” she whispered in Peter’s ear, “should we go to bed or take the couch? Or has Neal put a damper on things?”

Peter turned to face her, his hands tracing the curves of her waist, cupping her supple—and practically bare—ass and kissed her passionately on the lips.

“Couch will do,” he said gruffly, lowering her to the sofa.

Elizabeth sighed and smiled as wrapped her legs around him and pulled him on top of her, satisfied with how Peter's 3 am call had ended. She wondered how long this Neal Caffrey would invade their lives. No, Elizabeth was not jealous, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t take advantage of the perks this handsome criminal’s pursuit of Peter provided.

[hopelessromanticspoonie]

Helping Hands - Chapter 5

Series Masterlist here

Chapter Summary: Training with Nat doesn’t go as planned, and Fury’s plan is put to the test.

Chapter Warnings: Mentions of previous abuse and neglect, minor panic attack

A/N: The gif will make sense. :)

“Okay, stand with your feet about shoulder-width apart, and turn a bit to the side. Yeah, that’s it. Keep your thumbs on the outside of your fists. Now, use the momentum of turning your torso to put some weight behind your fist, and punch through the bag.”

The bandages wrapped over Haley’s knuckles and wrists were uncomfortable with the sweat that slicked over her skin. She couldn’t remember ever exercising, ever having a cause to break a sweat or work so hard in her life. Sure, Steve and Sam were sparring on the other side of the gym, the sounds of their blows deafening, acting as if this was just another day at the office. And for them, it was. But, to someone unused to the strain, it proved a monumental effort to fight the fatigue trembling in her limbs as she delivered punch after punch to the heavy bag that Nat supported from behind.

Haley had healed completely from her adopted wound in the span of several days - not too terribly long considering Loki had stopped her from taking the entirety of Nat’s injury. Natasha, on the other hand, was still taking it easy. Which, for an Avenger, apparently meant settling for running several miles on a treadmill and lifting her body weight in dumbells instead of kicking ass with Clint.

“You can’t walk around in tape all day every day, so it’ll hurt more, when - if, it happens.”

And that little slip-up made Haley’s entire body seize, her throbbing hands spread out against the woven fabric of the bag to tether her to reality. When. When she was going to have to face Mr. Shaw again. That’s what she was preparing for, beating up a bag of sand with arms as thick and tough as overcooked spaghetti.

“Ah shit, Hales, I’m sorry.”

Small fingers clutched hers after she dropped to her knees on the cushioned, sticky mat beneath her. She stared at them, one set littered with callouses and scars, the other flushed, but baby soft and lined with blue-green veins beneath almost translucent skin. Panic constricted around her chest so that it felt like her rapidly drumming heart would burst through her ribcage and tear her struggling lungs into ribbons with the fragments left behind.

“He’s on a mission.”

“If we don’t call him he’s gonna be pissed. You wanna deal with that?”

Cool glass pressed against her ear.

“Are you alright?”

The rough timbre of Loki’s voice didn’t sound quite right through the small speaker of the phone. She drew in a shaky breath. “I’m okay.”

An obnoxious tone sounded through the phone, and she tilted her head away from it with a grimace, closing her eyes. Everything was fine. She was in Stark Tower. She was surrounded by friends who would protect her. Mr. Shaw couldn’t reach her here.

“Darling.”

The hands holding hers retreated, replaced in an instant by a warmer, larger pair not a moment later. Deft fingers worked at unraveling the bandages protecting her knuckles. Her eyes opened to see Loki kneeling in front of her, still dressed in his leather armor.

All she could think to mumble out was, “How’d you get here so fast.”

Loki tossed the wrappings away, lifting her chin up with two fingers to thoroughly examine the distraught expression on her face. “Magic.”

The fear slowly seeped out of her at his attentions but she still couldn’t catch her breath or calm her speeding heart. Strangely, she couldn’t help but long to rub away the lines that crinkled between his brows. “You were on a mission. You’ll get in trouble.”

“You needed me.” He stood up and helped her to her feet with his hold on her hands. He didn’t let them go after she was standing, maintaining his firm grip as he led her out of the room. “You need a sports beverage and a snack. It wouldn’t do for you to overwork yourself before this evening.”

~

Had she overworked herself, or was she destined to feel this terrible regardless of her disastrous session with Nat?

Even with the soothing feeling of makeup smoothing over her skin and a brush running through her hair (there wasn’t much else to do with what little length she had), she couldn’t ignore the anxiety that weighed heavy in the pit of her stomach. It rolled through her and threatened to force itself around the lump in her throat. But practice made perfect, and she’d had years of hiding many a negative emotion and sensation.

“If you don’t stop sucking your bottom lip into your mouth, I’m gonna make you look like a clown.” Nat bopped her cheek lightly with the fluffy end of a makeup brush.

“Sorry.”

A brush painted over her lips in long, soft strokes. “We’ll all keep an eye on you. Fury has backup waiting on the floors just above and below. Even Loki is going to be there. You won’t be alone.”

All those words were meant to reassure her. But when she opened her eyes after shimmying into the dress Wanda had loaned her, she felt anything but confident in how the evening was going to go.

“I’m going to stick out like a sore thumb.”

The crimson dress molded to her skin, dipping down in the back to show a considerable amount of her spine. Lace encased her arms to her wrists and all she wanted to do was tug the sleeves down so she could grasp the material in her palms. She’d never shown so much skin. Did anyone really need to see the lower halves of her thighs? That was hardly her most pressing concern, however, when she factored in her inability to walk in the black heels Nat had helped her wobble into. She felt like a toddler, desperately attempting to balance with each step.

“That’s the point. Come on, the faster we get you out there the faster this is all done with.”

It took every ounce of courage that she had within her to step into the spacious ballroom several floors down from their living quarters. The lights, scattered around the room in glowing columns and hanging from the ceiling in interesting modern fixtures, were just warm enough to contrast the black marble floor and dark walls. The music from the DJ vibrated through her bones to ratchet up her heartbeat until it matched the thudding bass. More people than she had ever seen in her life milled about, either dancing or talking or some combination of the two.

Tony had told her to make sure to be seen by as many people as possible. What did that entail? How was she supposed to act natural, while still making sure she was noticed, when she didn’t even know what ‘natural’ was? She’d never been to a party before!

“Perhaps you should first procure a drink?”

She stopped staring at a stunning woman in a dress that looked to be made out starlight, glancing quickly over at the owner of the naggingly familiar voice. It had sounded just enough like Loki to pique her interest, although there was a softness to the baritone that didn’t quite fit. Nor did the owner of the lovely accented suggestion. The man peering at her through brown, thin-rimmed glasses shot her a mischievous grin. He had auburn hair that curled at the nape of his neck, and a neatly trimmed beard and mustache that covered the rosy skin of his jaw.

But the eyes. Even though they were a twinkling light blue, she’d recognize that playful and earnest expression anywhere.

“Loki?”

He closed the remaining distance between them, steering her toward one of the many bars set up around the edges of the room with a gentle hand on her exposed middle back. It was as if all she could focus on was his touch pouring heat through her skin to flow through her like molten sunlight. Even walking was a bit easier with him brushing against her side, as if he lent her a bit of his strength and surety while guiding her along.

“I desired to be close to you for the evening, and my standard appearance tends to draw more attention than would suit the delicacy of the mission,” he explained quietly, his head ducked down low so his words were delivered just above her ear.

Ignoring the flush that spread up her neck at his admission - he just wanted to protect her - she settled her trembling hands on the gleaming dark wood of the bar. She took the short, wide-mouthed glass that he’d ordered, crinkling her nose at the slightly bitter condensation that tickled against her lips. “What is this?”

“Sparkling water. It will appear as if you are imbibing, but you will maintain a level head.” He angled his head toward the dance floor. “I will be close behind.”

At his clear suggestion that she continue on with the plan, she started moving about the room, cracking a smile that didn’t reach her eyes whenever she made eye contact with someone. The bitter drink bubbled unhappily in her stomach, and she couldn’t stop herself from fiddling with the orange slice perched on the rim. It was expected for the Avengers to attend the party, so she was safe in acknowledging them whenever they’d cross paths. A friendly nod from Bucky, a squeeze of her hand from Natasha, a quick hug around her shoulders from Tony and a smile from Pepper, they all helped to tamp down the edge of her nerves.

She caught the barest hint of Loki’s voice, sweetened with his disguise, at random intervals. Pleasant laughter and an airy chuckle would meet her ears over the sounds of the party, reassuring her that he was keeping his promise of remaining closeby. How she longed to change her appearance as he could, melt into the skin of another, to avoid it all and enjoy the evening. Perhaps learn how to dance…

“Your drink seems to be empty, sweetheart. Care for another?”

She snapped out of her self-pitying reverie, sighing heavily at the waiter who offered her a flute of sparkling golden liquid. She suspected it to be alcohol, but maybe a sip wouldn’t hurt to calm her down?

“Thanks.”

The crystal was refreshingly cool grasped in her hands. She sank against the wall behind her, lifting it to her rouge-painted lips to take a drink, when it was ripped from her grip.

“Don’t drink that,” Loki urged her, shielding her from view of the room with his body placed squarely in front of her. He cut his eyes at the drink between them, turning it in his grasp and sniffing the contents.

Tony, with Pepper right behind him, quickly skirted through the unaware guests, coming up to Loki’s other side with alert, tight eyes and hands flexing in front of him. “What’d he look like?”

“White button-up shirt, but it wasn’t pressed like your staff. Fair skin, brown hair and eyes, with scuffed black trainers and a skinny black tie. Not a bow tie.” Loki handed the glass off to Stark, searching Haley’s face with jaw set.

“Fury’s on it. Good catch there, Reindeer Games. Hales, you okay?”

Why would Loki keep her from trying the drink? What could’ve been in there? Poison? Drugs? Mr. Shaw didn’t like to discuss business in front of her, but she knew that Hydra had created some awful weapons that could be easily hidden in a bit of liquid. 

Oh.

They’d found her. Was he here? Here to drag her back to another dank room, living out her days in endless agony and darkness, taking his injuries so he could commit more atrocities in the world? Her eyes skittered over the guests frantically even as the room seemed to fold in around her. Her quick breaths did nothing to take in any oxygen into her constricted lungs and she gasped, curling in over her arms wrapped around her stomach. She couldn’t go back there. She couldn’t.

The striped blue fabric of Loki’s suit was the last thing she saw before he straightened her up with steady hands on her shoulders, tugging her into him until her face was pressed into his neck, instructing her to close her eyes.

Coldness, sharper than anything she’d ever felt before, rushed over her for a split second before the sounds of the party instantly stopped. The resulting silence was so jarring that she backed away from Loki, expecting to hit the wall of the ballroom; instead, her knees touched the lip of her favorite couch in the recreation area. She sank down onto it, focusing on slowing her breathing and her heart rate as she stared up at the bespeckled version of her closest friend.

“How can I assist you?” he asked, kneeling down in front of her, his hands hovering in the space between him and her knees.

Only when the worried scrunch of his brows blurred did she realize that tears were pricking at the corners of her eyes. She clenched them tight, refusing to give in to her panic, waving her hands in his general direction. “Can you just, be you, again? It’s too weird. I need you.”

More silence beyond her ragged breaths. And then gloriously soft fabric slipped over one arm, around her back, and then over the other. Her hoodie. She opened her eyes to watch Loki adjusting the cuffs around her wrists, tugging them down until her fingers could close over the edges,  before sitting on the couch next to her. He looked like himself again, handsome and dark with piercing green eyes that searched her face with so much concern she thought her heard might split in two.

“I could fetch a bit of water, or chocolate. Would you prefer to get out of that dress and into something more comfortable? I promise that you are safe-”

His mouth hung open, all speech ceasing when she reached out to take his hand into her lap, lacing their fingers together. She needed the physical reminder of his presence. The warmth of his grasp and the gentle rub of his thumb over the thin skin on the back of her hand - initiated after a few moments further of him staring - did more to calm her than anything else.

“Can we just sit like this for a minute?” She hated how she sounded, weak and shaky to match the knocking of her knees, but it couldn’t be helped. 

Too close. They had gotten too close and he wasn’t close enough.

He shifted and let out a deep breath. Their sides pressed together from thigh to shoulder. His other hand rested over theirs and squeezed tenderly. “Anything you wish.”

~

Series taglist: @kneel-before-queen-loki @alexakeyloveloki @from-hel-i-with-love @cleocc @cateyes315 @coldbookworm @rjohnson1280 @bambi-butt @skiddleskaddle @lokis-high-priestess @myraiswack @ilovetardis @midgardian-mistress @lisaspageofstuff @kathrynwynterbourne @bluestaratsunrise

Little Bit o’ Loki taglist: @myownviperroom @grahoundart @darealbellabelleoftheball @boubouinscarlet @iamverity @rt8815 @lots-of-loki @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore @ms-cellanies @rosierossette​ @thathedonistgirl​ @lokixme​

Whole Shebang taglist: @just-the-hiddles​ @yespolkadotkitty​ @nonsensicalobsessions​ @vodka-and-some-sass​ @he-is-chaotic-she-is-psychotic​ @myoxisbroken​ @brokenthelovely​ @myworddump @polireader​ @wiczer​ @littleredstarfish​ @the-broken-angel-13​ @arch-venus25​ @xxloki81xx​ @jessiejunebug​ @tinchentitri​ @sllooney​ @devilbat​ @vikkleinpaul​ @bouquet-o-undercaffeinated-roses​ @angelus80 @wolfsmom1 @kthemarsian​ @toozmanykids​ @claritastantrum @princerowanwhitethorngalathynius​ @sabine-leo​ @lovesmesomehiddles​ @peterman-spideyparker​ @wegingerangelica​ @bluefrenchfries604​ @catsladen @snoopy3000​ @silverswordthekilljoy​ @villainousshakespeare​

[queencarolinemikaelson]

We’ll Never Be Royals

Klaroline Bingo as hosted by @klaroline-events Prompt // Royals (Though, perhaps not quite the ‘Royals’ story you’re expecting! Enjoy!)

/

Klaus’ heart was p u m p i n g.

He didn’t think he had ever been quite as nervous as he was right in that moment. In fact, he couldn’t remember the last time he was nervous at anything? It was kind of his thing to be level headed and unfazed. 

But apparently his cool-calm-collected persona was shattered by performing – who would have thought?

Certainly not him.

Although, he never thought in a million years he would ever actually do any performing.

Klaus had always been a behind-the-scenes, out-of-the-spotlight kind of person. Don’t get him wrong, he loved attention, but only on his terms, and definitely not when he had to sing in front of a thousand or so people.

He felt nervous beads of sweat begin to form on his brow, and a lump rise in his throat.

He couldn’t do this? He couldn’t do this!

It had honestly never meant to get this far – but he couldn’t help himself.

It all started a few months ago, when Klaus transferred from his university in the UK to Whitmore College. He was just strolling around the campus, getting a feel for the place when he had seen her.

Now, he knew he wasn’t a stalker, and it was quite the point of pride with him that he didn’t chase any of his ladies too hard. But the moment he clapped eyes on her, it was almost as if his entire being had been taken over by some external force.

She had bouncy blonde hair, and twinkling eyes. She seemed to exude a sparkle that Klaus really just wanted to blanket over him at all times.

So he had followed her. And he really had planned on just talking to her, but became far too proud at the thought – pushing against one’s own nature for a girl? Preposterous! But he followed her long enough to notice she pinned a poster up.

A poster which he casually sidled up to to read.

Auditions!

The Whitmore Whistlers are looking for Sopranos and Baritones.

When: Thursday, September 5 & Friday, September 6

Where: The Whitmore Auditorium

For an audition pack, send us a Facebook message or email us!

Klaus hadn’t really even known what the Whitmore Whistlers were, but he emailed for an audition pack anyway.

Apparently they were an a cappella singing group.

And when he’d shown up for his audition a week later, she had been there.

Caroline.

She gave him the sunniest smile he had even seen, and welcomed him in.

“The choir needs boys more than I do!” she laughed, as she introduced herself, and the rest of the audition panel.

Klaus had nervously, but quite tunefully, sung the set audition piece. And three days later he was an official member of the Whitmore Whistlers.

Fast forward a few months, and here he was, many rehearsals later waiting to sing to a crowd at the regional a cappella championship.

Why on earth had he done this again???????

“Hey, you’re gonna be great.”

A gentle hand rested itself on Klaus’ shoulder.

Oh, that’s why.

“I’m very nervous,” Klaus muttered, keeping his voice low – he was side of stage, after all.

“I can tell,” Caroline smiled. “But you don’t need to be, your voice is magic, and you’ve worked really hard to learn your part. You’re going to be wonderful.”

Klaus looked into her twinkling eyes, and he thought maybe – just maybe – the nerves were worth it.

“Y’all are up!” the stage manager whispered, commandingly. “Chookas!”

Klaus barely had a moment to register the strangeness of the word chookas before he was poked in the back to move out onto the stage.

God, his hands were shaking. Was it worth it? Was she worth this??

Caroline took her place at the very front of the group, her presence engulfing the audience. She gave the crowd a rye smile, raised her microphone to her lips, and nodded the Whistlers in with a bar of four, before she began to sing.

I’ve never seen a diamond in the flesh

I cut my teeth on wedding rings in the movies

Yes. She was worth it.

And I'm not proud of my address In the torn-up town, no post code envy

Her voice was so clear, so powerful.

But every song's like gold teeth, Grey Goose, trippin' in the bathroom Blood stains, ball gowns, trashin' the hotel room We don't care, we're driving Cadillacs in our dreams

As Klaus’ cue to begin singing came, he took a deep breath and concentrated on his own part.

But everybody's like Cristal, Maybach, diamonds on your time piece Jet planes, islands, tigers on a gold leash We don't care, we aren't caught up in your love affair

As they built toward the chorus, Klaus let the euphoria of their voices and the music take the place of the nerves.

And we'll never be royals – royals It don't run in our blood That kind of lux just ain't for us We crave a different kind of buzz Let me be your ruler – ruler You can call me Queen Bee And baby I'll rule, I'll rule, I'll rule, I'll rule Let me live that fantasy

As the group began stepping to the beat, and the song continued, Klaus had a few moments beyond his body, and he was mildly bemused by his behaviour.

If one of his siblings had done something like this for a love interest, he would never let them hear the end of it.

Perhaps he owed Rebekah an apology.

His mind and body synced back up just in time to enjoy singing the final chorus.

And we'll never be royals ­– royals It don't run in our blood That kind of lux just ain't for us We crave a different kind of buzz Let me be your ruler – ruler You can call me Queen Bee And baby I'll rule, I'll rule, I'll rule, I'll rule

The song drew to a close, and Caroline took one step forward, her commanding gaze somehow boring into every eye in the audience.

Let me live that fantasy.

There was a moment of silence as her voice rang out the final line of the song, before the crowd began their applause. Maybe he was being biased, but he was pretty sure it was the loudest it had been all night.

Caroline took a bow, and led the rest of the group through their bow, before leading them from the stage.

“You did it!” she said excitedly to him, as they made their way back to the greenroom. “Congratulations on your first performance!”

She squeezed his arm, and gave him that dazzling smile of hers.

“I told you, didn’t I! I said, Klaus, we’ll make a performer of you yet!”

She let out her tinkling laugh, and bounded away, to congratulate and encourage some of the other new members.

And Klaus could help but grin goofily, and think about how warm and/or fuzzy he was feeling.

It was about thirty minutes later when Caroline was trying to convince the group to get after-show drinks.

“Come on guys, the rush of performing is the best chaser to all drinks!!”

But between excuses of early morning classes the next day, the fact it was already 10pm, and the Whistlers post-regionals house party was only two days away, there wasn’t much interest.

“I’m not averse to a drink,” Klaus said, casually.

“Yes!” Caroline cried. “I have one, that’s enough! Bye guys! Text me if you decide to join!”

With that, Caroline looped her arm with Klaus’, and pulled him away from the rest of the group, beginning a cracking pace.

“Afraid I’ll change my mind, love?”

“You wouldn’t dare!” Caroline laughed, as she continued her speed. “I’m just freezing out here!”

“Would you like my coat, sweetheart?” Klaus offered, graciously. “I come from a much colder climate than this.”

“No, no, it’s okay, it’s only about a seven-minute walk away, we’ll be there soon.”

“Where is?”

Caroline just gave him a sly, side-ways smile, but didn’t reply, opting instead to happily hum Royals.

“When will we find out results?” Klaus asked, after a minute or so. “Of the championships, I mean.”

“Apparently there are too many groups to judge on one night these days, so I think tomorrow night after the second round?” Caroline said, in an unsure tone. “We’re meant to send a representative to collect the award in case we win, but I can’t be bothered doing it, and neither can the rest of the committee, so we’ll just collect the trophy if we win another time, and not waste a precious night if we don’t.”

“I see,” Klaus replied. “What happens if we –”

But he was cut off as Caroline squealed, “We’re here!”

Caroline pushed her way through the door of the little place – which looked far more like a café than a bar, in Klaus’ humble opinion – and took a seat on a squishy looking couch, immediately picking up a menu to inspect it.

“This place looks… nice… quaint,” Klaus mumbled to himself, thinking it wasn’t quite what he was expecting, given Caroline’s fervour to get there.

“Yeah, it doesn’t look impressive, but everything on the menu is so good,” Caroline said. “They do the best loaded fries I’ve ever had, but they stop doing food in like ten minutes, so hurry up and choose!”

Caroline giggled a little to herself, as she resolutely shut her menu, and looked pointedly at him. He fumbled a little with his menu, in his haste to meet Caroline’s expectations – and she was right, everything on the menu sounded delicious.

Before a couple minutes were up, their orders of two plates of loaded fries, and a pitcher of mulled wine each, were in, and for the first time that evening it was just the two of them, with nothing to do, and nowhere to be.

Klaus thought that maybe it was the first time ever that it was just the two of them, with nothing to do, and nowhere to be…

“I’m really glad you joined the Whistlers, Klaus,” Caroline said, genuinely. “You carry your part really well, and I know you’re new to the collegiate a cappella style, but you’re a natural.”

“Thank you, Caroline,” he said, slightly taken aback by just how sincere she was. “Your voice is phenomenal, and you do a spectacular job leading us.”

She smiled warmly at him, but forwent a response to pick up the drink that had just been placed in front of her.

They fell into easy conversation after that, and their one glass of mulled wine turned into two, then it was four, and both of them were feeling warm a little buzzed – and were somewhat obnoxiously testing out new harmonies for a song Caroline was arranging for the Whistlers.

“See, I wanted to do this – you sing the melody and I’ll sing the harmony,” Caroline said, before singing the line they were rehearsing. “But then I actually think I want this.”

“We sound much more like the Whitmore Wailers right now, if you ask me,” Klaus said, smirking.

“Wash your mouth out!” Caroline said in faux indignation. “I always sound perfect!”

“Repeat that mantra to yourself, if you must, love, but I know the truth.”

Her faux indignation, making way for more serious incredulity, Caroline gave him her most petulant pout, and swatted at his chest.

Feeling cocky, Klaus caught her hand with his, and kept it firmly in his grasp, levelling his flirtatious eyes at her.

Caroline’s face dropped its melodrama, and she stared into his eyes, her breath hitching a little.

He quirked an eyebrow as her, and carefully manoeuvred his hand so his fingers were laced with hers.

“Your hands are softer than I imagined,” she said absent-mindedly.

“You’ve imagined my hands?”

Caroline blushed, and looked away, but kept her hand tangled with his.

After that, the conversation, while still easy, was a lot more layered and no opportunity for entendre or flirting was missed. And when they left an hour later, in the Uber back to campus, Caroline leaned over to softly kiss him.

It was a gesture he eagerly returned, and soon their kiss was anything but merely soft.

They broke apart for just a moment to climb from the cab, and immediately their lips were attacking each other once again.

Until something seemed to click in the back of Caroline’s mind.

“Klaus, wait,” she said, pulling away from him, with a little pop.

She was a beautiful shade of flushed, and Klaus couldn’t help brushing her hair behind her ears, with both of his hands.

“Gosh, Klaus, I’ve wanted to do that for weeks but…” she said, before clapping her hand over her mouth, flustered.

“I’ve wanted to do it too, love,” he said, his voice seductively low. “You are so beautiful.”

“Thank you,” she said, staring up into his eyes.

He placed another kiss to her lips, though this one was far more chaste than the previous ones.

“I really want you to come up,” Caroline whispered, nervously chewing her lip.

“But?” he prompted.

“But I don’t think you can… my roommate… is Bonnie from the Whistlers. And I love her, but she will not approve – apparently you’re not experienced enough to be a Whistler, I actually pulled rank on her to get you in, and she accused me of only wanting you in because I thought you were hot. And if I sleep with you… she’ll just assume I let you in to… you know… she’s right… even though you definitely deserve your spot.”

Klaus nodded curtly, he had got the impression Bonnie didn’t like him.

“But maybe…” Caroline said, barely above a whisper. “Maybe, you can take me out next week?”

“Like a date?”

“Yep, like a date,” she shrugged a little. “I like you Klaus.”

“I like you too, Caroline.”

The two smiled at each other, and just held their intimate position for a couple of moments.

“But the real question is, love,” Klaus said. “How on earth will I keep my hands off you at the party this weekend?”

Caroline grinned wickedly.

“Maybe we will just have to be really careful.”

“Dare I say, we’re caught up in a love affair?”

“We’ll never be royals, Klaus,” Caroline said.

“You know, that’s not quite true, part of my family line is English nobility. My eldest brother, Finn, is something like 47th in line to the throne,” Klaus said, smugly.

“Oh my god, Klaus, you’re supposed to say ‘I’ll rule you, if you let me, or something!”

“Oh, right you are, love,” Klaus said, before clearing his throat theatrically. “I’ll rule you, if you let me.”

Caroline rolled her eyes, melodramatically, but laughed at his joke. As she turned to go, the promise of the future hopefully between them, she threw over her shoulder –

“I’ll let you live that fantasy. Night Klaus!”

“Good night, Caroline.”

/

Hope you like my first of only about five things for Klaroline Bingo! As I said, it’s probably not quite the Royals you were expecting, but I couldn’t help myself! hehehh I’m such a choir nerd. I used to run a choir, and I literally said to one of the people I was auditioning ‘the choir needs boys more than I do!’ lololol.

The song they’re singing is obviously Royals by Lorde!

[k9cat]

To Hold a Name 3/4

Logan

WC: 1222

Summary: Being pieces of a whole was always interesting, you were all the same, but also completely different. And the differences were not always visible like if you needed glasses or always wore the same colour. Each Side finds something completely unique that belongs to only them, their name.   A little origin story mixed with a dash of character analysis and some head canon world build. Light, cute, and usually fluffy.

Patton | Roman | Logan | Virgil    Ao3: Here  Stedlers Masterpost

THAN Taglist: @fandersfic-logan @im-so-infinitesimal  @bunny222 @violetmcl (Let me know if you want to be added!)

~*~

He was not tired. Even though it had been a very long day. Logic was tucked in tight under his sheet and quilt thanks to Morality. He insisted that he could go to bed himself without help, but it was nice to have someone else perfectly pull the blankets up for him, optimizing comfort for rest.

It really had been a full day with lots of things learned and explored. They went on a field trip to the zoo, and he was practically allowed to direct the whole thing all by himself. Creativity and Morality were right by his shoulders, asking just as may questions as he was, but they never tried to budge in front of him. his mind was just buzzing will all the things Thomas had discovered, trying to understand all the information easily keeping him awake.

He really wanted to go to his desk and find his notebook, pull it out and just write all the things about today. But, he was tucked in well, like, really well. Soft, warm and very comfortable, he would give that to Morality. Yet that left him stuck under his blanket looking at the celling. But that wasn’t as bad as it sounded, it looked like the night sky. Little flickers and flairs of ideas and thoughts shining a rainbow of stars above him. It was incredibly beautiful to look at, really fascinating, and he has thought on numerous occasions to ask Creativity to join him for a sleep over, he too would love the stars.

Sometimes a flair would float down like a firefly and he would catch it. he would observe and learn and think about the idea that came down with it or ponder the many branches of thoughts that came from one. With that, he would go to his desk and write it down filling notebooks and journals and binders all alike and put them on the shelves that show up in his room.

He looked over to his desk across the room. There were already so many thoughts to write down from today, but he really didn’t want to get out of bed. Logic tore his gaze away from the unachievable goal and glanced to his nightstand. There was the usual array of pens and other neat junk that accumulates on empty flat surfaces, like books, his watch, the cloth he uses to clean his glasses, and plenty of other neat little knickknacks that sat under the light of the lamp. He spied under the mess a sheet or two of looses leaf paper. Perfect! That would be enough for tonight to get his preliminary ideas out, jot notes to expand on later. He pealed back his warm blankets and reached over. He snagged a pen and gently tugged the paper from under the pile careful to not spill any of the contents to the floor.

Everything was going to plan, except that it was very difficult to write on the paper as it was on his blankets. The soft material was not a firm and stable enough surface to let the pen glide across the surface. There was nothing near him that would be suitable to substitute for a desk top. The closest book did not nearly have enough surface space and would really only make it more frustrating.

Logic flopped back onto his pillows, thinking upon ways and trying to figure out how to make this work. He absently let his eyed wander over the stars above him, seeing them twinkle and dance in place. It was not long before a particularly gold flicker caught his eye and gained his full attention.

He had never seen a gold star before, various tones of orange and yellow, yes, but this had a deep shimmer that could not be replicated by the simple shades of the rainbow. He was not sure at all if this gold star was supposed to be an idea or a though, but he was very eager to find out. The star slowly made its way closer to him. Almost a straight path to where he was laying.

Curiosity overtook him, making him impatient for its arrival. Sitting up, he observed the star, now looking a lot more like a firefly, minutely adjust its course to again float directly to him. That made him even more curious than before. It was something to discover and learn about, to see if what he thinks is true on not. He stood up on his bed. The soft material shifting under his footing and giving into his weight since it was focused on a much smaller area. The firefly once again adjusted its course. That was good support for his thoughts. He moved to the left a couple steps, carful to not trip and fall on the blankets, he watched how the sparkling gold followed him. He tried it again moving to the right, and once again, the gold idea followed him where he went with the same result.

That made Logic smile a bit, liking how his ideas and thoughts were true when it came to actually performing them. He was ever so interested in the gold firefly that hung above him, still slowly making its way to him. He jumped lightly on his mattress, the soft springiness giving him slightly more lift than usual. It took a few jumps, and a couple missed swings to grasp it, but when he did so finally reach it, he did not let go.

The idea bloomed to like in his mind like a flower reaching outward to the sun as far as it could go. The image of an intricately carved golden shield developed in his minds eye, the way it glimmered. How it was a strong and sturdy, a perfect circle. It was beautiful, more so than the sky above him and even more special. He really wanted it, so much to be real.

The muted puff of something large landing on his blanket was heard from beside him, drawing his attention outward once again. He looked over and discovered that the shield he saw was there, pristine as could be, gold even more shimmery. It was perfectly shined and just a pretty as he thought it could be.

Logic carefully sat down and gently grasped the edge of the cool metal, pulling the shield closer. The inside of the shield had neat straps to fit over his arms or one to let it sit across his back. The front convex was perfectly smooth, the border intricately carved with swirls and cut indents that reflected light to look like stars. The front was perfect for writing on.

He shuffled back till he was supported by the pillows and the headboard. He put his shield on his lap, the curve gentle enough to be at a nice angle to write, and he laid the papers on top. He had his pen in place ready to write when something once again caught his eye. On the edge with all the carving was a name inscribed into the metal.

Logan.

Which, when he connected the dots, was his name.  

Logan Logic Sanders.  

He like it very much, smoothing out his paper he wrote it at the top of the page first. He then titled it and began to write.

~*~

Fander’s Tag List Solo Logan 

@thats-so-crash  @ffsas-side-account @lei-brokeit @yonnie-boy @unknownsandersfan @sanders-sides-shambles @pandagirl0730 @bubblegum-borb @the-feels-are-coming @starry-eyed-haiku-dreamer @neko-ereri @logically-asexual @hanramz-the-fander @ahoardofsides @callboxkat @faacethefacts @karmicmayhem @anachronistic-cat @reba-andthesides @AskolotlQuestions @crankywhenprovoked @katatles-the-fish @ispeakhalflies @dib-leo-pard @sassy-in-glasses @elvishfrenchassassin @ocotopushugs @goodonebadgirl @kirsten-the-freak @haikyuupaladin @weird-short-person @thisisshien @lepardlover @someshinningideas @angeliclogan @nightlovechild @siriuswhiskers @anastasialestina @i-will-physically-fight-you @ace-v-p-d @radioactivebread @theshipqueenarrives @allthemetalsoftherainbow @dudlebuggs @cinquefoilelove @rptheturk @ono-its-ryane @evilmuffin @theresneverenoughfandoms @raisin-oatmeal-cookie @idiotauthor @hamster-corn  @roman-is-a-dramatic-prince @vulnerablevirgil @confinesofpersonalknowledge @candiukas @thought-u-said-dragon-queen @muontsy2 @katesattic @spacenerrrd @toujours-fidele @planetsanders @anonymouseandkeyboard @logan-exe @jughead-is-canonically-aroace @justmyshitandmoreshit