#politely tell people to stop annoying me i have to stew until i start literally screaming

[six-of-ravens]

the best thing about the past 4 days was that I heard basically nothing about AI. was thinking about work tomorrow and how I have to go back to listening to my coworker rant not only about how much he loves (in a hopefully non-sexual way but we're doubtful) AI but also how he pretty much thinks our business is failing and is going to go under unless we drop everything and start using AI to do all of our jobs from project management through design and development immediately, and I started tearing up in a bad way. The future is unfriendly enough without the constant reminders that my entire industry is going to get taken over by robots and I have no viable backup plan.

[shyficwriter]

Temporary Home: Chapter 7

Guardians of the Galaxy fanfic | Reader x Guardians (With Yondu and Kraglin!)

Summary: Peter is determined to chip your shell away, but unfortunately, his attempts only seem to annoy you. He might need to step up his game, and by that he means recruiting Mantis, which backfires on him. This could be the start of a war, if Yondu knows what he's talking about.

Previous Chapter here | Next Chapter Here Or click here to: Start From Beginning

Author’s Note: I got a suggestion from @maribatshipper to add a scene where some actual raccoons get in the trash and Rocket finally sees a raccoon. I love the idea but I unfortunately didn't get a chance to add it to this chapter as it was finished before I saw the suggestion (I'll probably add it later, don't worry! lol) Anyways, it gave me an idea. What's some stuff you guys would like to see happen in this story? I do already know the direction of the story, but this could also be fun!

Word Count: 3,729

You were going to kill Peter. Probably Kraglin too.

It started maybe a couple hours after "the smelly incident," as you had mentally dubbed it, had resolved.

Peter got bored, found some old DVDs in the cabinet below the TV, and when he recognized a movie from when he was a kid, SpaceBalls, he managed to convince you to watch it with them.

He might have also quietly pulled the "unless you're too shy..." card for the thousandth time, and you might have told him it was getting old and he was working his way towards a black eye, but you did agree to watch the film with them. Peter had somehow convinced everyone else to watch the movie, too. Might have had something to do with the fact that no one exactly had anything better to do.

Kraglin sat at on one end of the sofa, Gamora on the other, and Peter & you were sandwiched in the middle, him next to Gamora and you next to Kraglin. Mantis, Rocket and Groot sat on the floor, while Drax and Yondu took the armchairs at either side of the sofa.

Only you and Peter got the Star Wars references, of course, but there were plenty of parts the others found funny even without it. Rocket mostly laughed about how Terrans didn't understand space at all if you thought that's how things worked, and compared Peter to the main character, Lone Star. He meant it in a derogatory way, of course.

At about the scene where Dark Helmet breaks the 4th wall with the line, "What the hell am I looking at? When does this happen in the movie?" Peter had started to notice that you didn't laugh openly like everyone else. You always covered your mouth like you were trying to stifle it, despite no one else bothering to be quiet, least of all Drax, who laughed loudly at parts that weren't even that funny.

That simply wouldn't do. You should be laughing freely with the others, like you did when Kraglin and Rocket got tangled up in the hose, which was probably the only time he had seen a genuine full laugh from you, now that he thought of it. To him, this was evidence that he was right, you needed to break that shell of yours and learn how to loosen up.

Annnd... if that required a little mischief on his part... well then so be it.

He waited a bit, just to see if you'd eventually let yourself relax, but when you just kept biting your lip not to laugh and covering your mouth when you started to, he decided he'd 'help' you along.

The scene came on where Dark Helmet's men were combing the dessert with a literal giant comb, and seeing you trying to stifle another laugh, Peter decided to poke you in the side.

You tried to stifle your squeak and you glared at him, but he just shrugged innocently. Poke you? Never... Doesn't sound like him...

He spaced a couple more pokes within the next few minutes of the film, making you jump and hiss at him to stop. He grinned at you and whispered he thought you could use some help laughing, since it seemed you had forgotten how. The little shit.

You irritably whisper back, "That's not gonna work, I'm not-"

Peter rolled his eyes playfully and replied, "Yeah. Sure. Not ticklish. You've said. Too bad I don't believe you." He made to poke you again and you pinched him hard on the arm, which you admit was childish, but he deserved it for annoying you. He gave you a pouty look in response and then frowned when Gamora scolded him and told him to quit behaving like a child.

You sat back and thought he'd finally quit.

And he might have, seeing that it wasn't quite working as he hoped, but Kraglin, who of course noticed your flinching and the childish bickering between you and Peter, caught Peter's eye and they shared a look. He wanted in on the fun. Movie wasn't all that interesting to him anyways.

Five minutes later you received a poke from each of them simultaneously, making your arms clamp to your sides. You turn your head from side to side to glare at both of them. Quietly threatening to break their fingers if they didn't straighten up and just watch the movie.

Based on their expressions it was clear they didn't take you seriously, but they seemed to back off... for about another ten minutes. That's when they decided to poke you again and you jerked up off the sofa with a "That's it." and moved to sit down on the floor next to Mantis where you knew you were out of their reach.

Gamora smacked Peter in the arm for annoying you off the sofa, but no one paid much mind or reacted with more than a glance as they were paying attention to the movie. Well, except for Yondu, who had fallen asleep and was now snoring softly in his chair.

Peter was slightly disappointed that you hadn't been able to let your guard down, but he wasn't deterred. In fact, he was more determined to not just chip at your shell, but shatter it. There was someone who liked to have fun in there, and he was determined to find them and pull them out.

Thankfully, you were able to finish the rest of the movie unbothered. Rocket complained about the sappy ending where Lone Star and the Princess marry, but then Mantis said she thought it was sweet and he waved her off, grumbling about how she thought everything was sweet, or cute, or whatever...

After the movie you decided to go out to the shed and apply the varnish to the bed frame, and when you came back inside to wash some of the varnish off your hands you were startled when Kraglin snuck up behind you to poke you in the ribs. He dodged just in time to avoid being smacked and ran out of the kitchen, his giggles joined by Peter's in the hall.

You sighed, now thinking you should have taken more time in the shed with the varnish. Maybe cooking something would keep you busy enough, but what would you cook? Your first thought was that lasagna would likely feed everyone, but then you remembered the cheese and you were not about to have a repeat of that morning. You were sure the hairs inside your nose were singed-off forever.

You walk out the kitchen door to catch the men still giggling in the hall and they jump from the unexpected sight of you, probably thinking you had come out to properly smack them for deliberately annoying you. You look at them, unamused, and say, "Supper will be in about an hour if you want it. If there's anything else any of you can't eat you should probably tell me now."

Peter and Kraglin exchanged looks before Peter turned back to you and said, "If there is, we don't know it yet."

Kraglin nodded and added, "Not a lot of experience with Terran food, ma'am."

You cringe slightly at being called ma'am, but give a short nod. "Well, here's hoping I don't poison anyone again," you say, turning to head back to the kitchen. You are stopped when another poke to your waist makes you jump and you turn back with a hand raised to smack him.

Peter recoils with a laugh and says, "Just wondering if you'd like any help in the kitchen?"

You narrow your eyes. "Nope. Think you two better stay out here. Clearly can't trust you not to annoy me." You can hear their chuckles as you walk back into the kitchen.

Mercifully, they left you alone all through the cooking and eating of dinner, (you had decided to make a stew). Well, they left you alone physically, that is. Throughout dinner they kept attempting jokes, and it was obvious they were aiming them at you in an attempt to get you to laugh. Most of them fell flat, however, because most of the jokes Kragin told hinged on you knowing about creatures or other stuff not from Earth that you'd have not any way of knowing the context for to make the joke make sense. The others seemed to get the jokes and find them funny though, so at least they seemed to be enjoying themselves. Better than awkward silence any day.

Peter was able to tell a few jokes with Earth references that you could understand, but they were such old jokes that anyone who didn't live in a cave would have already heard them before they finished primary school, so you didn't really laugh at his either. You did, however, smile politely, assuming that they were only trying to be friendly.

After dinner you started to get ready to wash the dishes, and Gamora offered to help.

"No thank you, I've got them tonight." you say, taking the couple of bowls she had gathered and put them in the sink.

"You sure? You cooked for us, it doesn't seem right to let you clean up by yourself too."

"Don't worry, I'm not going to make a habit of it, just... some nights I like to have something to keep me busy, ya know?" You turn on the tap and start washing the dishes. You hated to admit it, but that boiler Fury replaced your immersion with had proven to be very helpful with eight extra people in the house. If you didn't know better you'd say it was magic. Somehow there was just always hot water. You willed yourself not to get too used to it, however. No one had said, but surely SHIELD was just temporarily loaning it until the Guardians finally were able to go back home. You couldn't imagine them just giving you an upgrade like that to keep forever.

"Ok," Gamora relented, not wanting to push it. She could tell you probably still needed a bit more time before you could fully relax. "Thanks for supper."

"Don't mention it," you say, not looking up as you sudsed a bowl.

Gamora nodded and walked out of the kitchen, passing Peter, Kraglin and Mantis on her way into the sitting room. They looked like they were conspiring something, but as a general rule, she didn't get involved in Peter's shenanigans. That meant that unless it was going to directly annoy her, or possibly injure someone else, she pretended not to notice.

She had been right, they were conspiring. Well, Peter and Kraglin had been, Mantis was just along for the ride. With nothing better to do, the two men decided they'd put their energy towards continuing to mess with you, however, it was clear that they needed to get smarter about their approach if they didn't want to risk a black eye.

So they deployed Mantis.

It didn't take much to convince Mantis to do it either. It literally just took Peter asking Mantis if she wanted to play a game and she agreed.

In truth Peter was testing a theory. He watched from the kitchen door with Kraglin as they sent Mantis in to do the poking while you washed the dishes.

She poked, you jumped and spun to face her, clearly thinking it was one of the guys, and then the irritation softened from your face as you realized it was her and all she got was a mild scolding. Mantis looked back and Kraglin encouraged her to do it again with an enthusiastic nod.

This time she fluttered her fingers at your waist from both sides like she had the other day, making you jump again, and, with what sounded suspiciously to the guys to be a poorly suppressed giggle in your voice, you scolded her again and shooed her away.

Theory confirmed. You couldn't bring yourself to try and smack her away like you had with them. Good. He could work with that. Use your soft spot for her against you.

This time they motioned Mantis to come back.

She meets them at the doorway and on her way out whispers, "Did I do a good job?"

Peter smiles, "Yes. You did great. Hey, I want to show you a trick..."

***

A bit later you walked into the sitting room and Mantis calls you over to the table, saying she wants to show you a trick.

She's sitting with Peter, Kraglin, and Gamora, and you walk over hesitantly, wondering if Gamora's presence meant you could assume you'd be safe from mischief or not, seeing as she normally swatted at or scolded Peter for being annoying.

Once you reached the table Mantis stood and encouraged you to take a seat. You pull out a chair at the end of the table and sit, only to be instructed by Mantis to turn and face her.

You eye her suspiciously and then turn to Gamora. "Am I going to regret this?" you ask, your eyes moving to Peter and Kraglin who sat across from her, shrugging and shaking their heads. You were sure you could only trust them about as far as you could throw them, but Gamora appeared to genuinely have no idea what Mantis wanted to show you, so you decided to just play along. How bad could it be?

Mantis instructed you to hold out your hand for her, and you did as asked. She then held your hand palm up and placed her thumb at the tip of your middle finger, and rested the tip of her own middle finger where the palm of your hand met your wrist, as if she were measuring the distance with her own hand.

She then released your hand and moved the hand she used to measure the length of your hand with to your knee, placing her thumb on your kneecap and lowering the tip of her middle finger to rest on your thigh above the knee.

"What are you doing?" you ask, suspicion and confusion in your voice.

Mantis looked up to meet your gaze. She smiled happily and said, "I'm distracting you for this!"

You raise an eyebrow but before you could wonder much about it she squeezed your leg where her middle finger had been resting, sending a tickly jolt through your body and making you jerk in your seat and your breath catch in your throat.

You grasp for her wrist to push her away, but then she just attacked your other leg with her other hand. "Mantis! No!" you squeak, squirming in your seat and flailing for her hands. Every time you'd grab for one hand, she'd free her other hand and send ticklish pokes and squeezes wherever she could reach.

She was was a little stronger and quicker than she looked, so it made the task of restraining her hands difficult for you. You did your best to hold back any laughter as you flinched and jerked from your torment. You could hear Peter laughing and telling her 'good job,' and Kraglin encouraging her to continue, which she did, happily giggling the whole time.

"Peter!" you half scold/half beckon.

"Yes?" he asked teasingly, folding his hands under his chin with a cheeky grin. Gamora rolled her eyes and tried to shake her head disapprovingly at him, but she couldn't help grinning. Mantis just looked so playful and it was honestly adorable.

"Will you-AEK" you squeak as she darted a hand and squeezed at your waist before you could stop her, "Will you make her stop!"

"Thought you weren't ticklish?" Kraglin said with a teasingly smug grin. "That shouldn't bother you at all then. I don't see a problem."

Gamora sighed with a smile at the two men. So that's what this was about. They must have put Mantis up to this.

"Dammit!" you jerk again as Mantis landed another squeeze above your knee. "I'm- I'm not- I'm-" you were having managing words, because each time you attempted, you were cut off by another poke or squeeze from Mantis, and you were afraid you would start laughing if you allowed yourself to talk through it. You were already having a hell of a time trying not to smile, and failing.

"I swear, if you actually say you're not ticklish right now, Pete and I will pin you down and prove that you are." Kraglin threatened with an evil grin.

"Kraglin!" Gamora scolded with furrowed brow, but her warning wasn't taken too seriously on account of the humor laced in her voice.

"What? She's the one being so stubborn she can't admit it!" Kraglin laughed. As far as he was concerned, you deserved it for fibbing. Plus, wouldn't kill you to loosen up a bit- you could be... well, scary... sometimes. Although it was kinda hard to think of you as scary at the moment while you were spasming in a chair as you kept trying to get a hold on Mantis's quick hands and a grin more than threatened to crack your face.

You could feel your cheeks getting warm, hating showing signs of weakness, but knowing you didn't have much choice at the moment. "Ok! Fine!" you cry out, still grappling at Mantis's hands and biting back any giggles that threatened to spill out. You knew when you were beat. It was pretty damn obvious that you couldn't deny being ticklish anymore, and you sure as hell weren't about to give them a reason to actually properly tickle the snot out of you. You wouldn't stand a chance.

"Fine... what?" Peter chuckled in a sing-song voice and leaned on the table.

You could kill him. "Fine! I'm ticklish, okay!? I admit it! Are you happy now!?" Just then Mantis managed to free both hands and briefly tweak your ribs before you got a grip on her wrists again, finally getting a short laugh to escape your throat as you spasmed in your chair. "Will you call her off now, please!?" Gods, this was embarrassing. You didn't know how, but they were so going to pay for this.

Peter and Kraglin high-five and Peter says, "Alright, Mantis, good job."

Mantis stood and clasped her hands, giggling and saying how that was so much fun, and you half-heartedly glare up at her before standing so you could get out of there, but not before turning to aim a glare at Peter and Kraglin. The jackasses.

When you turn back you notice Yondu leaning on the back of the sofa looking amused and you cringe, asking, "How long have you been standing there?"

Yondu folded his arms and pretended to think. "Hmm... Long enough to hear the boys threaten to tickle ya silly and then see ya fold like a cheap tent." Humor twinkled in his eyes and you wanted to melt into the floor.

You inhale and look to the ceiling, your cheeks burning. Your expression then turned mischievous. Vengeance. Now.

"Mantis?" you say, turning back to face her.

"Yes?" she answers, smiling wide and sweetly.

You put on your best, most innocent face. "Ya know, maybe you should do that to Peter. Or Kraglin. Why should they miss out on the fun?" Your eyes flick to the pair menacingly to see Peter looking at you like you just shot him.

Mantis giggles and goes to take your suggestion, bouncing to their side of the table. Peter bolted from his chair, saying, "Mantis- wait a minute!" and tried to run around the table, getting slowed down when Kraglin tripped him, mostly likely to save himself as he also stood to get out of Mantis's way, grabbing her by the shoulders and spinning her in Peter's direction when it looked like she was going after him. Unfortunately for Peter, he didn't get much further after Kraglin tripped him as Gamora effortlessly caught him by the arm and then laughed as she held him in place and he complained.

You turned back to Yondu with a satisfied smile and started to walk past him to leave when he leaned over to speak in a low tone as you got near. "Hope ya know that was a mistake, girl," he chuckled.

"What?" you say, surprised. Peter could be heard laughing and pleading with Mantis and Gamora behind you.

He grinned wider. "If there's anythin' I know about that boy, ya just declared war. An' if that ain't bad enough, now yer stuck in a house with him, and my first mate who ain't got nothin better to do."

"Ah." Your voice cracks, your eyes widening, nervousness creeping into your belly. "Well surely they wouldn't hold a grudge- I mean, they started it-"

He straightened back up and chuckled, shaking his head knowingly. "Jus' figured I should give ya a heads up. Do with it what ya will. Boy's partial to pranks when it comes to revenge. Might wanna be on the lookout for buckets of water above your doorways tomorrow. Or grease in your boots. That used to be Quill's go-to." Mirth glistened in his eyes and made you unsure if this warning was out of the goodness of his heart or if he enjoyed seeing the 'oh shit' look on your face.

You swallowed. Fuck. Just what you needed. A war. You decided it might be a good idea to get out before Peter could escape, or before Kraglin could decide to avenge his friend. "Well I'm going to go to bed now." Your voice was a little higher than you'd like and you could hear Yondu chuckling as you scarpered.

He knew it was more likely you were going to hide than going to sleep. It was barely dark out.

Yondu shook his head and walked to take a seat on the couch, still chuckling at the flicker of fear in your eyes when he told you that you had started a war. He switched on the TV and idly wondered who'd give up first. He'd gotten the impression that you wouldn't be one to back down, despite the nervousness present on your face.

You may have the advantage of being on home turf, but Quill could be relentless. More than likely you were fucked, but it'd be interesting to see how it all played out.

You might surprise him.

[randomoranges]

sometimes fights happen. the last of the relationship arch and technically the first. would come before Jello and Relationship Status: conjoint you don’t need to have read the others.

Apology [Accepted]

20XX

They’re out and about, Étienne bringing him on his usual whirlwind visit of the city, not wanting him to miss out on anything going on during his time here. It’s been an overall pleasant day and they’ve taken a small break to enjoy a treat on one of the many terasses the city has to offer. They’re sitting close, Étienne having no real notion of what personal space is, and Edward finds he doesn’t mind. It’s nice and he likes that Étienne hasn’t put up his usual guard. His boyfriend has been regaling him with some bodacious tale, when he is interrupted, halfway through, when another person comes up to them.

 “Étienne?!” The person says, astounded and surprised to find him here.

 Étienne automatically puts some space between them, as if suddenly aware of where he is and Edward watches as his boyfriend’s eyes grow wide and a grin etches itself on his face, “Oh mon Dieu, Malik, allô! Ça fait longtemps!”

 There’s the usual exchange of kisses on cheeks and pats on the back, followed by catching up on the latest. Edward watches, from the corner of his eyes, as Étienne once more seems to know everyone he runs into and something starts stirring inside of him that he can’t quite name.

 “Aye, scuse, j’avais pas vu qu’t’étais avec quelqu’un.” Malik says and both of them turn towards him and Edward offers a polite smile and wave.

 “Oui, c’est mon ami, Édouard, yé-t-en visite pour encore une semaine!” Étienne beams and Edward – Edward stills, that one word ringing and repeating itself over and over and over again as an ugly, long forgotten voice returns to whisper fears in his mind, feeding off the feeling from before.

 He tries to ignore it, makes polite chit-chat with Malik until they leave, but the word festers and colours his mood. He remains quiet as Étienne picks up their previous conversation and his mood only sours as the rest of the afternoon progresses.

 He thought – he had dared to think that things were different now.

 He supposes he’d been very wrong.

 Étienne would never change. He isn’t sure why he’s surprised.

 Of course, despite everything Étienne had told him – the confessions and the promises and the affirmations – it had meant nothing. They were only words. Étienne didn’t really like him. They were only words to make him feel better. To dupe him into a lie. He was and is just Some Friend. Some idiot Étienne keeps around for when he’s bored. A simple ami. Not a boyfriend. Not even a vulgar chum.

 Un ami. A friend. Nothing fucking more.

 Étienne probably is ashamed of him. Humours him by having him over. Even now, after all these years. He doesn’t know why he thought otherwise – why he believed Étienne when he’d told him the contrary.

 How stupid of him. How utterly naïve.

 He deserves this, really. Deserves to be mocked when the signs had all been there, really. Everyone had told him that Étienne only played games. He’d been blind to them is all.

 Eventually, Étienne quiets down himself, realising that Edward’s enthusiasm has withered and the rest of the afternoon is a quiet sullen thing. They head back to Étienne’s place afterwards and Étienne lets him be for a moment, while he tends to Mercury and it’s only later, that he goes out of his way to find him and sits beside him.

 “Alright, are you going to tell me what’s eating you or are you going to be a miserable old sack for the rest of the evening?” Étienne sounds a little annoyed and Edward thinks it’s a good thing. He wants him to be annoyed. Wants him to stew and be miserable. Just like he feels now.

 “It’s fine. It’s nothing you should concern yourself with. I’m just a friend, after all. No one important.”

 Étienne gives him a look as though he’s been slapped in the face, “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Hell, he even sounds insulted.

 Edward sighs, annoyed and frustrated because why would Étienne have the decency of understanding? “I don’t know, you tell me!”

 Étienne blinks, clearly confused, “What are you talking about?”

 “Can’t believe I have to spell it out for you, but then again, I suppose I also shouldn’t be surprised about this either. After all, you’re the one who dismissed me as your friend earlier, when your friend came to chat you up.”

 “You mean Malik? What the hell else was I supposed to call you? Was that too much?” Now, even Étienne sounds annoyed and it’s evident from the way his eyebrows are knit close together and the tightness of his mouth.

 “Your boyfriend! Or are you that ashamed of me?!” He finally near yells.

 Étienne looks at him, surprised. He remains quiet and simply looks. Edward is a little unnerved, but even more so when Étienne lets out a dark and bitter sounding laugh.

 “Oh this is fucking rich coming from you, Murphy.”

 “What’s that even supposed to mean?”

 “You’ve gotta be kidding me, clearly. How the fuck was I supposed to know I could call you that to others when you’ve spent decades avoiding anyone seeing us even walk down a street together in broad daylight!”

 There’s a small voice – very small and very annoying – at the back of his head that tells him Étienne has a point, however Edward ignores it and instead charges on, politeness be damned.

 “Well maybe if you had given me some inkling of a sign that you were into me I would have let you!”

 “Please, you were so far buried into your closet that even your precious Gretzky coming out and fucking you wouldn’t have been enough.”

 He’s aware they’re both going for where it hurts. That they’re using their own deep and buried hurt as a weapon and that they should stop. However, there is something raw that has been unearthed and there seems to be no going back at this point.

 “Of course it’s my fucking fault! You’re too perfect and self-centered to have any flaws.”

 “What does that have to do with the fact that I didn’t know you were okay with me telling people you’re my boyfriend? You never let me know! You’re still not comfortable with PDA! I was trying to be nice, for Christ’s sake!”

 “Yeah, well, it looked more like you were ashamed to be seen in public with me!”

 Étienne scoffs loudly and rolls his eyes at him, “Me? Ashamed of you? Please, it’s always felt like the other way around! I’ve been trying to reach out for you for decades. You’re the one who pushed back and would swat my hand away. And I figured, fine, you weren’t out, whatever. So I kept my hands to myself and didn’t say anything. And even now. I don’t know what you’re comfortable with, so excuse me for fucking wanting to give you space and not knowing what the fuck was actually going on in your head.” Étienne makes to get up and most likely get some air, but Edward isn’t done. He’s not letting Étienne walk away.

 “What the hell?! You can’t honestly believe I was ashamed of you! Why the fuck else would I keep coming back here to see you?”

 “Because I was convenient! An easy escape! You said so yourself! It was easy for you to come here and be whomever. I could have been literally anyone else and it wouldn’t have changed anything.”

 Edward wants to laugh at the absurdity of it all and nearly does. “Of course it was convenient,” He starts and cuts Étienne off before he can go on again, “You were-are my friend so it made it easier. But not because of the reasons you believe.”

 They both fall quiet and stare at each other, an impasse being more or less reached. Eventually, Étienne runs a hand over his face, after removing his glasses and cleans them off his shirt before putting them back on. He takes a deep breath and then sags a little against the couch.

 “So, are you telling me that we both got worked up over some giant misunderstanding and you actually don’t mind me telling people you’re my boyfriend now?” He sounds a little tired, as if this issues has been plaguing his mind for years and Edward feels, for the first time since this whole debacle has started, that they might finally be back on the same page.

 “Something like that... And yes, I don’t mind. I should have told you.” He says a little quieter, a little calmer.

 “And I should’ve asked.”

 They look at each other, hazel meeting green, and it’s a timid understanding that is reached. One formed over embarrassment and apology.

 “I think there are still things we need to discuss.” He doesn’t want this to happen again. For as much as he doesn’t mind clearing the air, he also doesn’t want to hurt Étienne.

 “You mean there are still issues we’re carrying around that could blow up at any time in some toxic way and threaten the foundation of what we have?” Étienne says, mock surprised as he brings a hand to his chest, feigning shock. Edward lets out a puff of air that forms into a little laugh.

 “Yeah, something like that.” He reaches over for Étienne’s hand and gives it a squeeze. “I was never ashamed of you. Honestly and I’m sorry if you thought that.”

 Étienne twines their fingers together and if his grip is a little tight, Edward doesn’t mention it.

 “I know. Logically, I know that. I guess, hearing you say that woke up some old fear inside of me... an old insecurity. We do need to discuss this. I’m sorry – for what I said and hurting your feelings. I’m not ashamed of you. I’ve never been ashamed of you either.” Étienne tentatively scoots closer and Edward carefully places an arm around him, letting Étienne put his head down on his shoulder. He notices a bit of tension ebb away from Étienne’s face and finally, he feels that this too will come to be solved with time.

 FIN

[jackidy]

To Star Lake - Chapter 2

Rating: T Pairings: Todoroki Shouto/Sero Hanta Characters: Various Universe: Howls Moving Castle Au

Summary: A day of impossibilities starts with a mystery man, with mismatched eyes and cold hands, rescuing him in a dark alleyway as he attempted to go about his business and the pet name sweetheart being said a little too tenderly. It ends with another stranger cursing him in his own store after telling them to leave.

Things like this don’t happen to people like Sero Hanta.

AO3  Previous Chapter Next Chapter 

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He’s all too aware of his body when he wakes up, the dull thrum of pain in his joints and back that was not too different from every time he’d fallen asleep at his desk whilst working. Only he’s not at his desk, he’s in his bed, staring at the off-white ceiling as Sero willed himself to get up, mind combing through the events of yesterday in a bid to find the source of why he ached so much.

Went to see Kaminari. Was literally swept off his feet by a wizard. Came home and met another one who –

The attempt to sit up quickly is beaten by the stiffness, Sero grumbling to himself as he stumbled over to the mirror and wash basin in his room, blinking at his appearance before sighing in resignation. “So, I didn’t dream that after all.” He mumbles, voice deeper and croakier than it had been before, eyeing his now older features warily. How was he going to explain this to Urakaka and the workers or to Mina when she turned up later?

Wait, Mina. Moving with speed that leaves him winded, Sero locks the door, knowing the other would barely hesitate before slamming the door open to announce her presence the moment she realised he wasn’t downstairs. But how could he go downstairs?! He’d aged fifty years over night due to some guy whose life mission last night seemed to solely be tormenting Sero.

Had he been the person following them through the alleyway? He wasn’t caught up enough on magic practises to know if blue fire was a common thing, he just now knew that curses burnt through you like fire. Presuming that his current state was reversible at all, gods he hoped it was.

“Pass that on to little Shouto, would you.”

Why did everything keep coming back to Shouto? He’d never met the man. Surely, he’d remember meeting a supposed heart stealing wizard, even if Sero was far from his usual target. He’d entertained the idea of his rescuer being him, of the renowned heart eater saving him, kissing the back of his hand before he was stating he was his Hanta. But things like that don’t happen to him, regardless of what yesterday have proved, it was simply a case of mistaken identity that had resulted in all this.

At least, that was the truth he believed until a better idea came up.

The jostling of the door handle startles him, an all too familiar annoyed noise before loud, impatient knocking sounded against the door. “Sero Hanta! Open this door so I can see your lovely face.” There she was, tehre was Mina, Sero tempted to open the door and greet her only to stop himself. How does he explain this? It had been a struggle in and of itself trying to play down the events of yesterday to keep Kaminari from stressing out and that was before the additional ones that left him twenty-three going on seventy.

“Maybe next time, I’m not feeling too great.” Not an entire lie, he didn’t feel great. He felt confused and anxious more than anything. Please buy it, he mentally pleads, hoping it would be good enough cover as to why he sounded so old now. “I must have caught something at the parade yesterday.” I caught a series of impossible events, he adds silently, waiting with bated breath to see if she buys it and leaves.

“Do you need me to get you anything? We can bring you some soup at lunch time?” We? Oh, Urakaka. No doubt as soon as Mina returned downstairs with news he was ill she’d be in the same concerned boat as Mina, the pair a force to be reckoned with when it came to any worker feeling a little off colour or, more often than not, whenever Sero over worked himself.

It happened more often than he cared to admit.

“Sure, you know my favourite.” What time was it now? How long until the lunch break and how long did he have to leave? It was ten, lunch began at one. 3 Hours was plenty of time to dress, pack some food and money and leave before they all came back. As much as he would love to stay, he doesn’t know how to explain any of this, the idea of disappearing for a while and coming back himself a more attractive idea.

Kaminari is probably going to laugh at the fact the thing that got him to stop following his self-imposed expectations of himself was being turned into an old man. This all after, of course, the blonde would shout about how he’d been right about Sero’s day only getting stranger.

His clothes still fit, though what they gained in length they lost in looseness, fitting now more snugly against him. Perhaps that’s a perk in and of itself, if this is what he was going to look like when he was older, at least his metabolism had slowed down enough to let him gain weight. “At least your clothes fit you better now.” Sero whispers to himself, shrugging on a jacket and jamming his signature hat on like always.

First stop is the kitchen, taking his bag and cautiously unlocking the door, heading downstairs, breathing a small sigh of relief to find the kitchen empty, grabbing bread, cheese and some cured meat before pausing at the sight of the tart on the table and the small note beside it of ‘Hanta’s, don’t touch!’. Oh, the temptation to take it, arguing with himself for a little too long before sighing and walking over, grabbing the nearest pen to scribble a quick ‘thank you! – Hanta’ on the note before taking it.

No use adding to the panic they were going to feel when they realised that he was gone, Sero hesitating, unsure of if he should go through with his plan before shaking his head, shoving the entire bite sized pastry in his mouth. He was leaving. He was going to the wastes to find someone, anyone, willing to tell him how to break this curse placed on him and, with any luck, hopefully break it.

Shoving the plundered food into his bag, he makes a quick escape as the dawning realisation of how much tea the shop went through during the day set in. Leaving through the gate in the courtyard behind the store, Sero slips into the alleyway, thankful as the stiffness of his joints seems to ease up but noting with some annoyance how it still remained, as if a lingering reminder of the mess he’d gotten himself in.

Maybe he should get himself a walking stick? If anything, it would add to the look, Sero politely turning down the off of help down some stairs before going back to his thoughts, did he have enough to buy a walking stick? Did he have enough money at all? He hadn’t really checked his wallet before leaving, he’d just assumed he’d have enough to get by on. Did recklessness come with being older or was this just another side of the curse that he was only just now becoming aware of because, sure, he wasn’t always the most careful of people but he’d always been careful when it came to his finances.

He’ll find a stick to use when he gets to the wastes, nothing was so sore he needed one right now anyway but it would be a safe bet he may need something to assist walking when he made it to the moorland wastes. But he was getting ahead of himself, it was all fair and well planning what he’d do once he reached the outskirts of civilisation but he first had to get there.

---

He should have bought a walking stick.

Sero makes it to the wastes, hitching a ride with a farmer whose farmland backed onto them, who felt the need to remind Sero he was crazy for going up into the wastes alone, how nobody who went there ever came back and that he hoped whoever Sero was looking for was worth it. He doesn’t have the heart to tell the man that he’s aware of the first two, just smiling a little sadly and informing him that, yes, the person he was looking for was important. Even if Sero didn’t know who that was just yet, silently hoping it was the man from the alleyway just so he could point out with annoyance at just what he’d inadvertently caused by not letting him be mugged.  

That’s what he tells himself anyway, knowing it in part to be a lie.

He still wants to know how the man knew his name, how he treated him like they not only knew each other but were close. Sero has met many people through his work but he knows full well that whilst he remembers people, they rarely remember him and yet, Mr Mystery was not only unknown to him but also knew enough about Sero to not only call him his given name but kiss his hand. How could he not be intrigued enough to seek him out and demand answers to every question the wizard had been the source of?

Sero shivers as another breeze goes through him, noting bitterly he should have picked up a thicker jacket than the one he wore as well as a stick, huddling down into a small outcropping of trees, pulling the flimsy jacket tighter around him before blowing into his hands. “Biggest I’ve ever been and I still can’t keep fucking warm.” He mutters to himself bitterly, digging into his bag for a bite to eat before setting himself to thinking of warm things.

The hearth in the work room that made the winters so much more bearable. The hot cocoa Koda made for everyone during his breaks at the bakery, including Sero if he happened to be visiting Kaminari. Urakaka and Mina’s attempts at making soups or stews and failing miserably, Sero always eating them despite the way his stomach protested each time, thinking fondly on how they’d improved over the years to the point what they made was now truly edible. How hot the alleyway had been even with the ice cold hand on his waist, how warm the wizards hand had been in comparison when it-

No.

He wasn’t supposed to be thinking about that right now, Sero’s stomach churning. It was his fault he was an old man, his fault he was currently sat in cold moorland and not in his workshop, his fault that everyone he was friends with were probably panicking over his sudden disappearance. No, that one wasn’t his fault, it was Sero’s decision to leave, no matter how much he wanted to blame someone else.

“I should have left a note for them.” He wonders idly, staring at the town in the distance, mouth pressed into a thin line as opposed to one of his usual smiles. They’ll be fine without him, he won’t be gone forever and then he’s return so they can all, rightfully, express their annoyance at him for just absconding into the wilderness without so much as a word never mind a goodbye.

The sound of something rustling makes him jump, Sero scrambling to his feet in a way that wouldn’t have affected his younger body but he’d definitely be feeling later on at this age, turning a little too sharply only to find not a beast but a stick, or should that be a branch, sticking out of the bushes. Had that been there when he’d stopped here earlier or was this just the world granting him a boon to make up for his own personal hell he was experiencing?

Putting his bag back on, Sero moves round to the other side of the outcrop, preferring the idea of not tumbling down the side of the hill should he fall, knowing full well there would be no way he’d manage to get back up the hill with any new pains he’d gain from it. The cold breeze is still present as he grabs the stick in both hands, muttering small curses as he pulled the stick, going as far as to put his foot against a tree for leverage.

“This branch better be damn worth it.” He hisses through clenched teeth, toppling backwards as the branch comes free, revealing not a walking stick like he had hoped but something entirely different. Sero isn’t too proud to admit he screams, a scarecrow that looks more akin to a crucified bird balancing perfectly at his feet, a tattered dark suit covering the frame embellished with red and black feathers that stretched from arms to a flour sack head in a way that made it look like a crown. It’s almost laughable how it looks like a mocking rendition of the missing Prince from the neighbouring kingdom.

Pushing himself to his feet, grunting in pain from his sore back and knees, Sero offers the scarecrow a withering glance before sighing. “Well, there goes my hopes for a walking stick. At least you’re not upside down now.” He grumbles, rolling his shoulders to ease the stiffness settling into them, sighing before setting off again, hands gripping the bag strap as a sense of unease filled him.

He needs to find a place to stay, eyeing the clouds above wearily as they rolled in slowly, thick and dark, the smell of lightning and rain in the air. Kaminari would be happy, he was practically lightning made flesh, but Sero was not his short friend, Sero was not too fond of being caught out in a storm, more so now he knew how cold the wastes were. If only he had actually found a stick in that bush, maybe then he’d move faster than a snail’s pace and have at least a diminishing hope of finding a place to stay tonight as opposed to the none existent one he held onto now.

Sero jumps as something is dropped in front of him, looking down at the offending object, a walking stick, before turning his attention upwards to the looming figure oh the bird turned scarecrow. If this had occurred any other week, Sero knows full well his response to a moving scarecrow would have been one of abject horror, more so down to the thing’s effigy like appearance. “Umm…thanks.”

His back cracks as he bends to pick up the cane, noting with mild amusement the bird head like handle, looking up at the scarecrow again and letting out a breathy laugh. “You must be so proud of yourself, huh?” His response comes in the form of a couple of bounces, Sero not entirely sure why he thought he’d get a verbal one beyond it feeling like a natural conclusion to come to after the day or so. “If you want to find a place for me to stay in tonight too, that would also be helpful.”

The scarecrow bounces away, a lot faster than Sero expected it to move, the cursed man silently wondering just how the scarecrow had come to be and just how it seemed to understand what he was saying to it. Was it also cursed like him or was it simply the product of unspent magic that found its home in an inanimate object? Though, what did he know, his only experiences with magic in life had resulted in the situation he was stuck in.

Hobbling forward, Sero heads in the direction the scarecrow had gone, his legs all too thankful when the ground evened out into something less steep, the lessening ache in his joints feeling heavenly even if he was still in some discomfort, preferring the mild discomfort over the sharper pains that had seemingly haunted his ankles knees and hips on inclines.

He’s not too sure how longer he’s walked for when he smells it, the all too familiar woodsmoke, Sero relaxing and moving forward with as much vigour only for the excitement to come to a crushing end when he hears it. Metal clanks and creaks against itself, the smell of smoke almost suffocating as the sight of both the scarecrow and the house it had found come into view.

Only it wasn’t a house.

That was Shouto’s castle.

“When I said find me a house, I didn’t mean that!” Sero yells, watching as the castle seems to slow its pace, passing the cursed man and scarecrow slowly but never stopping. This had to be a sick coincidence, right? Surely this bird headed scarecrow hadn’t intentionally led a magical walking castle to him, right? He might have come to the wastes looking for a witch or wizard willing to help him out but this was something else entirely, he was hoping for one that didn’t walk hand in hand with a reputation for heart eating.

Any further protests to using the castle are interrupted when the sky rumbles to life, a loud roar of thunder and the crack of lightning somewhere behind him but all too close for comfort. Breaking and entering into a castle owned by a wizard of known incredible power or staying out in a storm? It was an easy enough answer for him to find, stumbling after the castle as the sound of raindrops began to make the metal sing. Why does the castle seem to be speeding up again, had Sero missed his opportunity to enter? Rain biting into the back of his calves as he attempted to catch up, not sure if the sound in his ears was the rumbling thunder or his frantic heartbeat from the sheer effort of trying to at least keep up with the castle.

“Could you decide if you’re letting me in or not already?!” He wheezes out, the burn in his legs almost unbearable, each step feeling like he’s walking on glass as opposed to the rain-soaked grass. It’s unexpected, the way the castle seems to come to a near halt, swinging back on its legs to meet Sero’s next frantic step, the old man stumbling and falling against the stone stairs due to the momentum, hissing from the impact and the pain blooming in his shins and forearms.

He was going to be sore in the morning, shakily pulling himself up with help from both the ramshackle railing and his cane, eyeing the blue door before him before turning to regard the scarecrow, still bouncing after the castle, Sero wondering vaguely if it wanted more praise or if it was simply concerned for his wellbeing. “Thanks,” he says softly, half convinced the scarecrow hadn’t heard him only to witness the scarecrow perform the same bounce it had upon bringing him the stick.

The warmth that hits him upon opening the door is a welcome embrace, Sero walking in without a second glance to the scarecrow, closing the door softly as to avoid alerting anyone to his presence. He may be cursed, worn, far beyond the point of caring anymore but he by no means wished for more misfortunate upon himself, not today at least. Wooden stairs almost feel like a mountain as he climbs them, twelve steps feeling like twelve thousand, yet his lungs feel free, the squeeze of exhaustion having slowly eased out of them.

Sero spots the stool in the dim light of the fire, choosing to ignore the unkempt state of the room he’d entered for now, his sole focus being to sit down and just bask in the heat of the fire. His stick tapping against the floorboards and his grunts whenever he miss stepped where the only thing breaking the silence, Sero using what seemed to be the last of his energy to pull another couple of logs onto the fire before sinking onto the stool, full weight against the stick so he didn’t ultimately fall off.

“You’re not supposed to be in here.” The voice is as groggy as he feels, Sero staring at the slowly awakening fire, vaguely registering the grumpy face staring back at him from it. A fire with a face, off putting but not at all surprising, Sero too relaxed under the heat that seemed to melt his muscles and bones in peaceful welcome. It would take an act of god to move him at this point, that much he was sure of.

“I’m not supposed to be a lot of things.” He’s not supposed to be old. He’s not supposed to focus on work too much. He’s not supposed to attract the attention of witches and wizards. He’s not supposed to doubt his friend’s compliments. He’s not supposed to be sat in the castle of Ice Prince Shouto, having a conversation with the fire place about where or not he should have walked in from the wastes.

The fire regards him, a strange expression on its flames akin to impressed and humoured by Sero’s current state and, in all honesty, he isn’t sure which is worse. “Who the fuck did you piss off to have that happen?” The fire’s voice is gravely, like the crackle of burning wood, Sero finding himself slowly falling asleep only to jolt awake when there’s an annoyed shout of ‘wake up’ followed by an insult.

“I don’t know, didn’t think to ask for a name during the entire exchange.” He jokes, ignoring the unimpressed look on the fire’s flames, feeling the exhaustion begin to creep in once more. Would he still have been this fatigued if he were still his true age? He’s not sure, knowing he’s had stressful enough day to exhaust anyone. “If I can stay the night then I’ll be on my way before-”

“Do you want to break it?”

“Break what?”

“The curse.”  

The silence stretches on, the fire returning Sero’s dumbfounded look with one of mild annoyance. How does he answer that? Of course he wants to break the curse but what could a fire, sentient or not, do to help him? Sure, he had had his doubts about the scarecrow but this was different, the scarecrow could at least move but the fire was well and truly trapped in the hearth. “How do I know you actually want to help me and this isn’t another trick?”

It smirks at him, a little too on the feral side for Sero to feel fully comfortable with it, flames burning a little brighter with what he could only guess to be excitement. “Because you’re not the only one with a curse to break.” That made sense, he supposes, a fair trade of one broken curse for another, Sero wondering just how someone managed to curse a fire before it occurred to him that maybe, just maybe, the fire was in the same position as he was. “Do we have a deal?”

“Sero. My name is Sero.” He replies sleepily, all too ready to fall into the embrace of sleep as he yawned widely, slumping further onto his cane.

“Bakugou.”

“You’ve got a deal.” He mumbles more than says, finally giving himself over to the exhaustion.

[floralguccistyles]

three: a new hope

My first and only relationship had been during my second year of university. His name was James Trinity, and while at first I had been excited because he had the same name as Captain James Kirk from Star Trek, the novelty wore off very, very quickly.

It wasn’t that James had been a bad boyfriend. On paper, he had checked off all the necessary boxes. He remembered dates, sent me sweet good morning texts, and wasn’t an embarrassing eater that I couldn’t take out to restaurants. The problem with James was that he was so...boring. He always suggested we went out to a movie and then dinner for our dates. And while that was perfectly acceptable while we were starting our relationship out and getting to know each other, it got boring after awhile when that was all he wanted to do.

There was also the flower problem.

When my dad picked up my mom for their very first date, he bought her flowers. When he picked her up for their second date, he bought her flowers. When they got married, he didn’t bring her flowers because she already had her own bouquet, but he had drawn a rose on a note and had one of his groomsmen deliver it to her before the wedding. It was a stupid tradition that in reality I actually should have hated, but my heart stopped every time I thought about a guy bringing me flowers. I wanted someone to pass by a bunch of daisies and think, I’ll get some of these for Petra to brighten her day. 

James hadn’t bought my flowers.

I knew it was stupid and if James had been my dream man, my deal breaker wouldn’t have been an absence of flowers. But paired with the fact that all he wanted to do was watch movies and eat, and he had been on his phone when my parents had come to London to meet us for dinner, the lack of flowers were a big deal.

After James, there really hadn’t been anyone that had caught my eye. I was more focused on Alien Crossing, anyway. I didn’t have time for a relationship. The only relationships I needed were with Jeremiah, Veronica, and Melody. Anyone else took a backseat.

Except, of course, my parents.

“We were listening to your podcast, love,” my mother said from the other side of the Skype call, smiling in confusion because technology still freaked her out. My dad was the one that dealt with all the computer and phone problems they had, but given that he was in Bristol to help with construction of a school there, my mum was alone this time to deal with the Skype call. She had already accidentally hung up on me twice while trying to turn the volume up. “The lad you had last time, that Harry fellow. Didn’t you go to school with him?”

My experience with Harry on AC the previous week was odd, to say the least. Realistically, he had done fantastically for his first time on a podcast. He had answered my questions seamlessly and the conversation flowed a lot easier than I thought it would have. I supposed it was because he knew so much about music. And though the scores of big movies were different to the music he created, it will still interesting to hear what he thought of them. I had, regrettably, been sitting on the edge of my seat every time he had answered one of the questions I asked. It was easy to discern why people loved him all around the world. He was charming, charismatic, and knew what he was talking about.

I hated him for it.

“Yeah, I went to school with him. He was the one that bullied me all the time and then became a famous singer.”

“Right, right. His mother sent me an edible arrangement once. I offered it to our neighbor a day later because he husband passed away.”

I felt a little stab of selfish satisfaction when she told me she hadn’t eaten the edible arrangement. I’m sure Harry’s mum was a wonderful enough lady, but she had spawned Satan himself. 

I hadn’t spoken to Harry since I had watched him drive away from Outset’s lot at around three in the morning. After recording, he had stuck around to listen to the editing that Jeremiah and I did, which was unnverving but we got through it. Then, he had done that weird handshake-bro-hug thing with Jeremiah and had offered me a polite smile. He probably knew that if he tried to hug me I would have thrown him off Outset’s roof. That smile was the last thing I had seen before he got in his nondescript black sedan and drove away.

“So are you two friends now?” my mother asked. She hadn’t thought there was anything wrong with Harry being on the show. She had called me the day after we recorded and when I had complained, she had reminded me that it probably took a lot of guts and courage for him to apologize. She was a little annoyed I hadn’t accepted and forgiven, but I reminded her that I was a grown woman and could make my own decisions. 

“No, Mum. Believe me, Harry Styles and I will never be friends.”

I heard her click her tongue disapprovingly. “Sweetheart, he was very kind to apologize,” she reminded me, “and you shouldn’t hold grudges. It isn’t good for you.”

It was the same argument every time. Harry wasn’t brought up much with my parents, but when he was, it was always the same. Forgive him, Petra, he didn’t mean it. Oh, he was just a kid, Petra. I could probably guess what she was going to say verbatim. It did nothing but piss me off. Did they not care that this was the kid who had me sobbing in my room at two in the morning because I felt like shit about myself and it was his fault?

“He made my life hell, Mum,” I said through clenched teeth.

“He was sixteen years old, sweetie. He didn’t mean what he said. And look at how successful you are now! Obviously he didn’t do any lasting damage.”

I wanted to scream. I had weekly appointments with Doctor Thorne. I was hit with waves of insecurity that debilitated me. I sometimes didn’t even want to go out of my house and deal with people because I was always waiting for the other shoe to drop, for someone to call me names and make fun of me. Of course, she wouldn’t see the lasting damage he and his friends had done. I hadn’t let her known. But dear god, shouldn’t she have seen that something was still wrong? Did she really not know me?

“I’ve got to go, Mum. I’m meeting with the publisher today for my book.”

“Oh, I’m so excited for it! You’ll tell your father and I when it’s available for pre-order, right? We want to get a hard copy and he’s going to load one onto my Kindle.”

When she said things like that, so vocal in her support for me, it made me think being mad at her was foolish. “Yeah, Mum, I’ll let you know. Talk to you later.”

“Bye, sweetie. Give your father a call when you’re free. He misses you!”

I hung up feeling the way I always did. Confused and tired. Talking to my parents shouldn’t have left me feeling so exhausted, but it always did. It was like I was divided into two different versions of myself: the version I was and the version they wanted me to be. I knew they wanted me to forgive Harry, forgive all my schoolmates that had made me go literally mad. But that wasn’t who I was. I wasn’t quick to forgive. And I hated feeling like I had disappointed them because of it.

While I loved what I did, sometimes I wish I had a normal nine to five. If I had a normal job, I would have to bury thoughts my mother had put in my head and be blissfully distracted until my day was over. And by the time five rolled around, I would probably be over it anyway. Instead, I would sit and stew and work myself up. I picked at my fingernails and decided that I wouldn’t allow myself to focus on it today. Today, I would be blissfully distracted.

I grabbed my purse and changed into some leggings, shoving my feet into my slippers while I locked my door shut behind me. I didn’t know where I was going, but I knew I needed to get out of the house. Melody was unfortunately at work so I knew contacting her wasn’t an option. I could try Jeremiah or Veronica, but I didn’t want to bother them if they were doing something important. Obviously, my parents were out of the question.

So I found myself at a coffee shop.

I had a habit of carrying around a book with me everywhere I went. I kept one in my purse at all times. The book this time around was The Princess Diarist, or the book Carrie Fisher had written before she died. I had already poured over the pages four times, but the book never got old. Ordering a peppermint coffee, which were still luckily around because it was still early January and the festivities of Christmastime hadn’t completely worn off yet, I sat at one of their tables in the back and flipped through the pages of the book, drinking in the words like a giraffe leaning over to drink from a pond. When I read, I devoured. I was sure I looked a little crazy, sitting there wide-eyed and so invested, but I didn’t care.

“Any good?”

I didn’t hear the question at first. It was only when someone cleared their throat that I jumped a little, looking up from the text to see a man around my age standing next to my table. He had a drink in his hand and was offering it out to me. I eyed him weirdly. “What?”

“The book. Is it any good? Also, this is your coffee. My name’s Peter so they messed up.”

I could only stare at him for a few moments, still enveloped in the world of Carrie Fisher before I processed what was happening. “Oh. Thanks.” I took the coffee from him, our fingers brushing just slightly. Peter was an attractive man. He had dark colored hair that was cut pretty close to his head and a strong, angular jaw. His eyes were the same color as the wood grain on the table I sat at. “You like Star Wars?”

“Is that a trick question?” 

I narrowed my eyes. “Top three characters, go.”

If my insistence phased him, he didn’t show it. “C-3PO, Obi-Wan, and Vader. But only Vader from the original three. Anakin’s annoying. You?”

I was impressed by his answer. Really, there was no wrong answer to this question, but it was nice to see he had taken my question seriously. “R2, Leia, and Obi-Wan.” I took a sip of my coffee, savoring the peppermint taste before I sent him a smile. “And yes, the book is good. Might change your perception of Harrison Ford a bit, but it’s nice to read Carrie’s version of events.”

“I’ve been meaning to pick it up, but haven’t gotten the time. I was thinking about just ordering the e-book.”

“You should get the print, if you can. There’s something nostalgic about reading her last memoir in an actual book.” I, ironically, had The Princess Diarist in my Books app on my phone, but I much preferred reading it from the original source.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Before he could say anything else, the barista called his name. “Ah, this must actually be mine.” He went to go collect his coffee and I thought that was the end of it. This stranger had just somewhat made my day better and that was all he was going to do. So, I lowered my eyes to my book again. It wasn’t until I heard the chair across from me scraping against the floor that I realized Peter had come back.

“Mind if I sit?” Peter asked, gesturing to the chair.

“Your admission price is a question. Favorite Star Wars film?”

“Well now, that’s a hard one. Empire Strikes Back, probably.” 

I crinkled my nose. “I guess you can sit down.”

“Ouch,” he mentioned, though he was grinning. He lowered himself into the seat and scooted the chair back in. “What’s yours?”

“The original three are the best because of their iconic status, no doubt,” I countered, slipping a bookmark into the page I was on before shutting it. “But the new trilogy is developed so much more. And the plot line is better. So I’d probably go with The Force Awakens.”

“The horror,” he said, clutching his chest and laughing a little. It was a nice laugh, deep and strong. It filled my stomach with butterflies. “But I’ll concede. The Force Awakens is brilliant.” He took a sip of his coffee. “So, what do you do, Petra?”

I was going to ask how he knew what my name was, but as if anticipating his question, he pointed to my name scribbled on the cup. I wanted to laugh. “I run a podcast. And I’m publishing a book soon, once my editor and publisher get their act together.” He laughed again and I swore in that moment I would try to make him laugh at least three more times during our conversation. His laugh was too addictive and sexy to not hear it. “What about you, Peter?”

“I’m afraid I live a much more boring life. I’m an accountant.”

“The horror,” I parroted. 

“Believe it or not, I enjoy it a lot. I’m good with numbers.” He took another sip of his coffee. I noticed that his hands could wrap around the entire cup and he still had room to lace his fingers together. I almost swooned. Something about a man’s hands was extremely hot. “Tell me more about this podcast. What do you talk about?”

“Mostly stuff like this,” I answered, gesturing to the book I had set on the corner of the table. “Amongst other nerd things.”

“Would these nerd things include Harry Potter?”

“Naturally.”

“Let me guess,” he said, trailing off for a moment as he gave me a once over. “Hufflepuff?”

“I self-identify as a Hufflepuff, but Pottermore has spoken. I’m a Ravenclaw.”

“Damn. Do I get half a point?”

“I’ll give you the full one, just because you’re speaking the language of my soul. Which is, of course, Harry Potter. You’re definitely a Ravenclaw.”

“Hole in one. Though I self-identify as a Slytherin.”

I smiled. I wanted to ask him more about him self-identifying as a Slytherin, but his phone beeped from his pocket. He wrestled it out of his jacket and stared at it for a moment. “Unfortunately, I have to go. I only get a thirty minute lunch break.”

I felt myself deflate like a balloon. “Oh. Right. Have fun with the rest of your work day.”

He rolled his eyes good-naturedly as he stood. “I really enjoyed talking to you, Petra. Would you…” he trailed off, chuckling nervously. “I don’t know. Would you want to hang out some other time?”

I was already sliding my phone across the table. “Put in your number. I’ll text you.”

He grinned and typed in his phone number, thumbs almost too big for the buttons. When he handed it back to me, his contact glared at me like a giant neon sign. “I’ll hopefully hear from you soon, Petra.”

“You will,” I assured, giving him a smile. 

“Great,” he said simply, grabbing his coffee. “Bye.” The farewell was spoken sweetly and had the butterflies swarming again. I repeated the sentiment and watched him walk out of the coffee shop door, smile permanently on my face.

I was too excited to even pick up my book.

~

“Are you wearing your good bra?”

Melody’s question came from the small speaker of my phone. She was propped on my vanity dresser in my room, on the tiny FaceTime screen. She had spreadsheets scattered around her on her kitchen table, and I could hear her roommates playing the telly too loudly. Every five minutes or so, she gritted her teeth and refrained from telling them to go fuck themselves. 

I’d only met her two roommates once. There was Cassandra, who was a petite girl who Melody had met in uni. She had been there on a volleyball scholarship, which I didn’t think existed until I met her. She had blonde hair that was pinstraight and was always pulled back into a ponytail. The other was Vera, who had been born in Canada and moved to London with her boyfriend from uni. They were still together as far as I knew. I didn’t like being around Derek, her boyfriend, because he never stopped staring at Melody’s tits. Or my tits. Or any tits that were in his vicinity, besides Vera’s.

Therefore, I could understand her ire.

“I didn’t want to come off as presumptuous,” I answered her question, twisting and turning in my dress to try and see how the material moved. I had already tried three dresses and none of them seemed to be working for me. This one was a short green dress, but you could see my underwear line and all my seamless ones were in the wash. 

“It’s not presumptuous to wear a good bra,” Melody argued. I heard the volume of her telly turn up and saw Melody roll her eyes.

“It’s kinda presumptuous. Like I assume I’m going to have sex.”

“I hate to tell you this, Pet, but you probably are going to have sex.”

“Still, I don’t want to look like I was expecting it.”

I stripped off the green dress and stood in my room, clad in only my underwear and bra. I heard Melody tisk in the background, so I assumed my bra was not to her liking. I didn’t care. This bra was comfortable and I liked it. Although it was comfy and had completely molded to fit my boobs (as most good bras did over time), it was still white and lacey, so she couldn’t complain much. My underwear didn’t match, but didn’t white go with everything?

“Try the burgundy one. That one makes your legs look long.” This was a feat, because I had short legs. I reached for the burgundy dress she was talking about and held it up to my body, inspecting it in my vanity mirror. It was decent, I decided. Not too fussy but not too plain. “And for God’s sake, put on a new bra.”

“I’m not putting on a new bra,” I admonished, rolling my eyes as I slipped the burgundy dress over my shoulders. It had short sleeves and ended just past mid-thigh. Once it was on, I decided it was perfect. “Coat or no coat?”

Melody snorted. “I don’t care how hot this guy is, he’s not worth freezing your arse off. It’s January in London. Don’t be a twit.”

She was right, of course. I grabbed a black coat my mum had gotten for me a couple Christmases ago. I slipped on some short black boots and did a little twirl. “What do we think?”

“Better if you changed the bra, but this will do.” At my glare, she chuckled. “You look great. You’re going to know Peter on his ass. I can’t believe you met someone as nerdy and weird as you. It’s just your luck.”

“I don’t always have this luck.” I checked the digital clock I had on the stand next to my bed and decided it was probably time to leave if I wanted to make it there on time. We were meeting at a little Mexican restaurant at six, and it was nearing 5:45. “I’ve got to go, Melody.”

“Good luck babe. You’ve got this.”

“Melody, can you shut up? Vera and I are trying to watch Hollyoaks!”

I saw Melody shut her eyes. I could only guess that she was debating homicide. “If I haven’t killed myself by the time you’re back, call me. I want to hear all about it. I might also stay at your place tonight.”

“You’ve got a key. Come over whenever you want.” I was used to Melody letting herself into my flat, especially when Cassandra and Vera were being annoying. 

“Might take you up on that. Have fun tonight. Do everything I wouldn’t do.”

I ended the chat and ordered myself an Uber. I really needed to get a car. Maybe I could bribe Zach to drive me around like he did with Jeremiah. Melody had complained that Peter hadn’t offered to come pick me up for our date, but I didn’t tell her that I preferred it that way. In case there was need for an escape, I wouldn’t have to feel pressured into him driving me back to my flat. 

I had been looking forward to this date all week. We had been texting  back and forth about various subjects of nerd-ism and then after about three days of texting he had asked me out. I would not admit to jumping around my flat like a loon when he finally did ask me out, but I wouldn’t deny it either. It had been so long since I had been interested in someone that I nearly forgot the protocol for how I was supposed to act on the days leading up to the date, but the conversation had still flown well.

Once my Uber had dropped me off at the restaurant, I texted Peter to let him know I was here. Assuming he was already inside, I pushed open the door to the restaurant and walked to the front.

“Hi. Reservations for Gerber.” The hostess clicked a couple of buttons on the computer and gave me a smile.

“Great. Follow me,” she said. I noticed her name tag said Stephanie. I don’t know why I noticed her name tag first, but I liked to know people’s names. My dad had always instilled in me that I needed to be polite and get the names of everyone I came across, whether it was an employee or boss. It showed respect, he mentioned. And it was true. My dad knew the names of all of his builders and still kept in touch with some of the people he had contracted for. 

I followed Stephanie to where Peter was sitting at a booth. He was dressed in a nice navy blue jumper and dark black pants, shiny loafers on his feet. I wondered briefly how much accountants made, but didn’t dare ask. I would simply have to look it up when I got home later. 

“Wow,” he said, standing to give me a quick peck on the cheek. He smelled heavenly. “You look amazing.”

“You too,” I responded, giving him a smile as I sat across from him. 

“You want some wine?” he asked.

“I’m not a connoisseur by any means, so I’ll trust whatever you get.”

He ordered some fancy bottle of red wine I couldn’t pronounce the name of and Stephanie set off to go retrieve it. “How was your work week?” I asked, grabbing my napkin and setting it in my lap. I’d be damned if I let any food get on my dress. “I’ll have you know I’m very intrigued in accounting now. I know almost nothing about it.”

“Lots of numbers, lots of financial documents, lots of typing. The rest of the week was good. I was looking forward to this.” My heart fluttered a little bit at his confession. “But accounting is boring when you’re comparing it to podcasts. How was your work week? Any cool guests?”

“Work week was great. I don’t record this week’s podcast until tomorrow, so I’ve got tonight free. The guest is Ray Holman, who did the costuming for several series of Doctor Who.”

“That’s exciting.” Stephanie brought back our wine and poured us each a glass. When she asked if we were ready to order, I shook my head. “Couple more minutes, please,” Peter suggested. Stephanie left with a smile. 

“Have you been here before? I wonder what’s good.” I opened up my menu and started scanning the entrees they had listed.

“I was going to ask you.”

“This is my first time here.” I looked around the restaurant. It was decorated with varying shades of neon colors. It looked like a festival of some kind. There was a mariachi song playing over the speakers that had a lot of trumpet sounds. It made me want to get up and dance. 

“Yeah, but you’d probably still know what’s good,” Peter said. I looked at him in confusion and raised a brow. He furrowed his brows, like he didn’t understand what I wasn’t getting about his statement. “You know… because you’re Mexican.”

Because you’re Mexican.

I was lucky. In England, I hadn’t been made fun of for my race until high school, when Nathan Penrose had gotten tired of me not responding to his other taunts and teases. He told me to go back to Cuba, where people like me belonged. I didn’t let it bother me because I knew Nathan Penrose was a jackass. Plus, he had been in high school at the time. Though it was no excuse, teenage boys were incredibly stupid. Peter, however, was no teenage boy. This was a grown man. Who had just said I would know what to order at a Mexican restaurant because… because I was Mexican.

“I’m Cuban, actually,” I said in a whisper, unable to come up with any other response.

“Aren’t they sort of the same thing?”

I wanted to throw up. I wanted to burst into tears. I wanted to curl up in a ball and bury myself underneath blankets. “No,” I responded, my voice still pathetically quiet. “Cubans are from Cuba.”

“But you grew up in Cuba, right? So you probably know what kind of food is authentic or not.”

“I was born in Cheshire,” I tried to argue, but my mouth felt like it was filled with cotton. I didn’t have time to say anything else when Stephanie was back, notepad in hand and a cheery smile on her face.

“We know what we want?”

“I’ll take whatever he gets. I have to go to the loo.” I couldn’t stand up fast enough. I felt the embarrassment fill my veins, like ice water. My throat was tightening, a sure sign that I was going to start crying. I didn’t want Peter to see me cry. The jackass didn’t deserve it. I wobbled in my heels, teetering as I marched to the bathroom, but I didn’t care if I fell flat on my face. It would still be less embarrassing than what Peter had just asked me. 

My tunnel vision for the loo was so severe I almost didn’t hear someone call my name. I didn’t realize anything until a hand suddenly grabbed my wrist. I jerked away, thinking it was Peter and preparing myself to scream at him and admit defeat in front of all the patrons of the restaurant, but the face I saw when I turned was familiar and comforting.

“Petra?” Bailey asked. Her short red hair was pulled into a tiny bun at the base of her skull and her blue eyes were watching me with worry. “Are you okay?”

Numbly, I nodded. And then I sniffled. Bailey’s eyes widened. “Come on,” she said softly, standing from her seat. “Let’s get you cleaned up.” I could only imagine this meant a tear had escaped and my mascara was running. “I’ll be right back, lads.”

It was then that I noticed who she was sitting with. There were two men sitting at the table with her, one of them nodding his head and thinking nothing of Bailey’s weird departure. The other, however, I knew.

“Petra?” Harry asked, eyes widening when he saw the tears on my face. “Are you okay?”

I didn’t give him the satisfaction of a response. I just turned and made a beeline for the loo, feeling Bailey following behind me. I burst into tears fully when the door of the bathroom shut behind me, and Bailey was immediately at my side, brushing my hair away from my face like a mother would to a child. 

“Oh, Petra,” she signed out, her gaze pitying. “What happened, love?”

So I told her. I told her about how excited I was to go on a date with Peter, how swimmingly things had gone when we were texting, and then the cold reality that hit me like ice. Her eyes narrowed and hardened as I blubbered through an explanation, my words barely sounding like actual words and more like garbled sounds strung together. Her hands on my shoulders rubbed reassuringly as I buried my face in my hands.

“He’s a prick, Petra. A racist, selfish prick. He doesn’t deserve a second of your time or your tears.” Bailey grabbed some toilet paper from the stall and handed it to me so I could dab my tears away. My makeup was beyond saving, but she grabbed her purse and held out a concealer. “It’ll be too light for you, but it’s there if you want it.”

I didn’t care that Bailey was at least ten shades lighter than me. I sniffled, picked up the concealer, and smeared some underneath my eyes so the mascara tracks disappeared. I looked like a ghost, but I didn’t look like some racist arsehole had just stomped on my heart. I preferred the ghost. “I don’t even want to go back out there.”

“You don’t have to. I’ll take you home. Jeff and Harry won’t mind.”

That brought on the second topic of discussion. “How the hell do you know Harry Styles?”

“I don’t, actually. Jeff and I are family friends though, and he worked with Harry on his record. Jeff just said a friend was in town and asked if he could come to dinner with us.” Bailey raised her finger to blend in a spot of concealer I missed. “But Jeff’s really understanding. He’ll get it if I need to drive you home.”

“I don’t want to ruin your dinner,” I said quietly. “I’m just being stupid.”

“No you aren’t,” Bailey responded vehemently. “He’s being an arse. C’mon love, it’s better than taking an Uber home. Between you and Veronica, I’m sure you’re funding the entire Uber company on your own.”

I managed a small chuckle and tossed the toilet paper in the bin. “How much do I look like Casper the friendly ghost?”

“On a scale of one to ten, an eleven.” But she smiled. “You look fine, love. Let’s head out, yeah? Maybe you, Veronica, and I can have a good old-fashioned slumber party?”

“I’m afraid my front room won’t fit us all.”

Bailey laughed and linked her arm with mine. When we opened the door to the loo, I almost hit someone with it. Standing outside, leaning against the wall, was Harry Styles himself. 

“Christ, wear a bell,” I muttered.

“Are you okay?” he asked. He reached out, as if to check me over himself to see if I was alright, but decided better of it. His hands dropped back down to his sides. He probably knew that if he tried to touch me, I’d bite his fingers off like a rabid chihuahua. “What happened?”

“None of your business,” I grumbled angrily.

“But everything’s okay now, yeah?”

I knew he didn’t mean his concern. It wasn’t genuine. He couldn’t give a fuck about my feelings when Nathan Penrose was screaming at me to go back to “where I came from” and he couldn’t give a fuck about me now. “Leave me alone, Harry.”

Bailey and I said goodbye to Jeff, leaving Harry standing outside of the bathroom. I didn’t even look in Peter’s direction as I left the restaurant with Bailey at my side, making sure to slip Stephanie a five before I left. Bailey kept her arm linked through mine, as if she was afraid I was going to fall over if she let go. Oddly enough, I appreciated the support.

Minutes later, I was tucked into Bailey’s small little Volvo and we were on the way back to my flat. 

“Do I want to know what’s going on with you and Harry?”

“Too much to explain. I’m surprised Veronica hasn’t mentioned it.”

“She mentioned that you guys grew up together in Holmes Chapel, but didn’t mention much else. There some bad blood there?”

I let out a wry laugh. “You could say that.” We pulled up to my flat and I saw the light on. Must have meant Melody had actually taken my offer. “Looks like Melody’s there.”

“That’s good. Didn’t want you to be alone.” She parked the car and turned to face me. “You’ll be okay, right? I don’t need to stage an intervention?”

“No, I’ll be fine. Thanks Bailey. Veronica’s lucky to have you.”

“Damn right she is,” Bailey laughed. She leaned over to give me a quick hug. “Try not to dwell on what that arsehole said. He’s just insensitive and rude. And the first thing I want you to do when you get inside is delete that prick’s number.”

“Will do. See you later.” I hopped out of her car, wobbling slightly on my heels but gaining my balance pretty quickly. I walked to my front door, digging through my clutch to get my keys and holding them up triumphantly to Bailey. I unlocked my door as her headlights faded away.

Melody was sitting on my couch, her spreadsheets spread around her again. She had her glasses on (which she hardly wore) and her hair was up in a wet ponytail. She must have taken a shower. She looked up when I shut the door behind me and waved. “Thanks for letting me come over. I couldn’t get any of my shit done with Vera and Cassandra blabbering about Hollyoaks in the background. How was…” she trailed off when she saw the expression on my face. “Oh no, Pet. That bad?”

“He said I should know what to order because I’m Mexican and I would know what was authentic.”

“He didn’t.”

I nodded as I flopped down on my loveseat, not wanting to disturb the organization strategy she obviously had going for her spreadsheets. “He did.”

“What a prick! I’m glad you wore the bra you did. He didn’t deserve the good bra.”

“No he did not.” I toed off my boots. “I should have known the second I walked into the restaurant. He didn’t bring flowers.”

To anyone else, this statement might seem weird, but Melody knew what I was talking about. “Someday someone will get you flowers, Pet. You’ll be sick of getting flowers. He’ll buy you a whole florist shop.”

I didn’t believe that for a second, but it was a nice idea. “Whatever. Bailey was there with one of her friends and she drove me back. Speaking of which, Harry Styles was there.”

“And the night gets better and better.”

“Exactly.” I shrugged off my jacket. “I need a shower. I want to wash this night off of me. Will you order some take out? I didn’t actually get a chance to eat.”

“Sure. I’ll surprise you.”

I sent her a half-hearted thanks as I made my way to my bathroom. Tossing my dress on the floor as if casting off the events of the night, I turned the water to boiling. My underwear and bra joined my dress on the floor as I stepped into my shower.

If I stupidly cried a little bit more, I made sure my sobs were quiet. I didn’t need Melody knowing how pathetic I was feeling about this whole experience. 

Once I was clean and in some warm pajamas, I walked back out to the living room. In addition to the spreadsheets, Melody now had a box of pizza and paper plates spread out on my coffee table. I reclaimed my spot on my loveseat and thanked her for the plate she offered me. “What’re you working on?” I mumbled through a bite of pizza.

“Shit Trennan was supposed to get done. I’m almost done with it, but I’ll be mad about it for the rest of the week.” She looked up and gave me a small smile. “You want to watch Avatar the Last Airbender?”

“I thought you were working.”

“Eh, I can deal with you watching the telly. You don’t scream at it like Vera and Cassandra. Plus, I know seeing Zuko’s character development always makes you feel better.”

She was right. 

“Okay.” I grabbed my Apple TV remote and pulled up my Amazon account, where I had already purchased all three seasons. “Thanks, Melody.”

She didn’t look up from her spreadsheets, but she smiled as I clicked on the first episode.

~

“Who the fuck is at your door at nine in the morning?” Was what I was woken up to. Melody was standing at my bedroom door, clad in the pajamas she had packed when she left her flat last night. I was bundled in my blankets, head barely poking out above the fleece as I groggily stared at her.

“What?” 

“Someone’s knocking on your front door. Woke me up, the prat.”

“It might be Bailey checking on me. She and Veronica wake up weirdly early.” I pushed back my blankets and shivered when the cool London air hit me. Shoving my fuzzy socks on my feet before I dared to put them on the cold wood floor, I stood from my bed and blinked slowly, trying to wake myself up. I had watched the entire first season of Avatar the Last Airbender before both Melody and I decided to call it a night. I had gotten about four texts from Peter before I finally decided to just block his number. I didn’t feel like dealing with him again. 

“Tell Bailey that the rest of the human civilization doesn’t wake up at nine on Saturday morning.”

“I’ll be sure to pass the note along.” I padded out to the living room. The knocking seemed to have stopped, but I still looked through the small peephole to make sure whoever it was had left. “There’s no one there anymore.” I didn’t remember ordering anything online, but I could have purchased something for AC while half-asleep one night. It had happened before.

However, when I opened the door, it wasn’t a cardboard box at my doorstep.

It was a pretty bouquet of flowers. There were baby’s breath sprinkled in with pretty dusty rose colored tulips. There was some greenery mixed up with them, but the tulips were the center of attention. 

“If those are from Peter, toss them in the fucking garbage.”

I lifted them from my doorstep and kicked the door shut with my foot. I brought them over to my kitchen counter, staring at the beautiful arrangement. There was a small little card attached to a silver bow, wrapped around the vase. My fingers shook as I reached for it.

Petra,

I hope you’re feeling better. These are a thanks and a sorry. Thanks for letting me be on AC and getting to know the world of podcasts. Sorry for everything else.

- Harry

P.S. That Peter guy is a arse. Don’t let him get to you.

“Well, shit,” Melody muttered as she read the note over my shoulder.

Well shit indeed.

[realityhelixcreates]

Lasabrjotr Chapter 4: The Universe; Behind the Scenes

Chapters: 4/? Fandom: Thor (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe Rating: Teen And Up Warnings: Mentions of Past Death Relationships: Loki x Reader Characters: Loki (Marvel), Thor (Marvel), OFC Additional Tags: Thanos Is A Tool, Influence is Not the Same as Control, God I Want That Bathtub Summary:  Reader learns what she remembers, but not why.

“What the hel was that?” Loki demanded. “She was fine one minute, and then she falls apart over a mere face full of dust? Who does that?”

“I can think of a reason.” Thor said softly.

“Brother?” Thor was rarely introspective, and Loki didn’t quite know what to make of it.

“She’s had a hard day. She will need rest, but I have some questions first. “

“I’m sure we all have.” Loki grouched. “Seems like that’s all we have.”

                                                                                             *****

The bath was nice, though the toiletries all smelled of him. You were surprised by how much mud had gotten in your hair. You weren’t made for such bizarre happenings: magic, and kidnapping gods, and ancient civilizations being built anew. Nothing about today seemed quite real. Even time was wrong. A few hours ago you were clocking in for the morning shift at work. Now the sun hung low in the sky. Evening was coming. You’d lost an entire day. You supposed that made its own kind of sense, since technically, aliens were involved.

Where were you now? This couldn’t be your country. Yes, the U.S. was pretty big, big enough to cover several time zones, but you didn’t think there was any part of the continental United States that was night while another part was morning. You had to be all the way across an ocean, or somewhere similarly as far. What a pity. You would have liked to see that. Flying over an ocean must be beautiful.

The towels were nice, much nicer than you were used to. Everything was probably going to be higher quality than you were used to, since royalty was involved.

How were you supposed to talk to them? There was no real royalty in your country; you didn’t know the etiquette. How did one address a prince? A king? A god?

Someone had taken your clothes while you bathed. Of course you couldn’t put them back on while they were still so filthy, but it made you feel vulnerable all the same. The tunic you had been provided in their place did not fit correctly at all; it was too loose in the shoulder, too long in the arms, and too tight in the hips. This was obviously a man’s garment, olive green and incredibly soft. You didn’t want to think about it. At least the provided slippers fit correctly. Your legs remained mostly bare, but you didn’t think they were all that much to look at anyway. The tunic was made for someone taller than you, so it covered enough.

This little set of rooms was odd to you. Like a whole house inside of another building. Here a bath, there a library, there and there a bedroom. And when you tried to leave back out into what you thought was the main corridor, there was a young man in armor there to stop you. He was polite, but he spoke a language you didn’t know.

“I’m sorry.” You told him. “I don’t understand.” He led you back into the library and pointed at a chair. “Oh, I get it. Sit down and wait, huh? I can do that.”

He waited until you had gotten yourself seated before going back to his post. He must have had orders not to let you leave. Annoying, but fair; they wouldn’t want you running off, and after that small panic attack earlier, it might not be safe for you to wander around without a guide.

You started browsing through the books, but most of them were in unfamiliar languages. When Loki came to collect you, you were going through illustrations and diagrams that you couldn’t read, but found interesting nevertheless. You looked up from a beautiful drawing of a huge tree with little worlds hanging it its branches, and he was just there.

“Uh…How long-“ You began.

“You make so many little noises when you read. Do you fear silence, or are you simply that lacking in self-awareness?”

“It’s just a habit.” You said defensively. “No one’s ever complained before.”

“You live completely alone. Who is there to complain? You will have to break that habit while you are within these walls. We cannot have incessant noise disturbing our guards, or my contemplations.”

You turned back to the illustrations, cheeks burning slightly. So it was just a little habit! It wasn’t that big a deal.

“You say it like we’ve gotta be joined at the hip all the time, but that’s obviously not the case, because I just had a nice bath without you. So unless you were waiting just outside the door-which would be creepy-then I’m sure my ‘incessant noises’ won’t be as big a problem as you’re making them out to be. “

You both let the moments pass in increasingly uncomfortable silence.

“I was harsh with you.” It was a statement, not an apology, but also probably the closest you were ever going to get.

“You were. I was…rude.” You conceded. You really must have crossed a line when you called him a monster. You had let your temper and fear run off with you.

“You were.” He agreed. “You were frightened. It’s only natural. And I was…frustrated. But that time is passed, and now the time has come for greater things.” He beckoned for you to follow him, and you did, curiosity growing.

Where could you possibly be going now? Some kind of magical laboratory, to run tests on your rune? A spiritual center, to meditate on this magical connection that sapped or restored energy based on how close the two of you were? A medical area, where they might operate on your hand to learn more about it?

“Where are we going?” You asked softly.

“Dinner.” He said airily, and you snorted. Greater things, huh? Still, something as mundane as dinner sounded amazing right now. You’d technically gone the whole day without eating. Something mundane sounded very nice right about now. You might not get that again for some time.

He looked oddly normal as well, which struck you as strange. It somehow never occurred to you that he didn’t look the same all the time. But all you’d ever had for reference was video footage of the battle. He wore armor to intimidate, horns to add height. Not that he needed it. The top of your head barely reached his shoulders. You would have never expected someone like him to even have casual clothes, if all those pin-tucks and diagonal shapes counted as casual. You tried to ignore the similar shapes on the ill fitted tunic you currently wore.

It was hard to believe how much different he looked without that helmet. How much the sharpness of his face was softened by letting his hair fall lose around his shoulders.

“Like something you see?” He asked. “You’re staring, you know.”

“Sorry.” You said, embarrassment creeping in. “It’s just that you look…”

He turned to watch you, the corners of his mouth lifting, ever so slightly. “Yes?”

“You look like a man.”

He paused, the tiny smile fleeing. “As opposed to a monster?” Then he quickened his pace, and you struggled to keep up.

“That’s not what I-“

“Oh don’t worry.” He cut you off. “After all, I’ve never shown this world anything different.”

“Lo-“ You started, then held your tongue. No, you couldn’t call him by name. You weren’t friends. Whatever reasons he might have had, he was the architect of a major disruption in your life. There was no way you had a job anymore, and if you ever got home, you probably wouldn’t have your apartment either. Your houseplants were going to die. Your friends and father, and coworkers had no idea you were still alive. And all of this was quite literally by his hand.

How were you supposed to address him?

“Your…Highness?” You tried, and he made an affirming noise. “Can you tell me where we are?”

“Yes.” He said, and nothing else. It took you a moment to realize he was doing that obnoxious thing some teachers do in order to amend their students’ grammar.  How annoying.

“Please tell me where we are, your highness.” You said in a voice pitched higher than normal. Years of working in retail with difficult customers gave your demeanor a false show of being chipper. He noticed instantly, giving you a strange look.

“Within the kingdom of Asgard, but you would know this island as Iceland.”

“Iceland? How did-how am I-I…I’ve never been to Iceland.” You spluttered lamely. You had never been so far from home in your life. You’d never really wanted to. You were well and truly trapped, weren’t you? If you found that you really needed to leave, there really was nowhere for you to run. Even if you could make it out of the unbuilt city, you didn’t know where any other towns were. You wouldn’t be able to speak to any people you might find.  They would know you shouldn’t be there, see that you had no passport, no identification. They’d haul you right to jail. That was all that awaited you outside the city. Death in a foreign landscape, or prison.

“Oh god, I’m an illegal immigrant.” You murmured.

“What are you talking about?” He led you into a large room with a huge table in the center, and then right past that table, and into a much smaller room, with a much smaller table, set with three dinners, and furnished with the king of Asgard.

“Yes.” He asked. “What are we talking about?”

“I don’t have a passport! I’m illegal, I’ll be put in jail!

Thor shrugged. “You’re a guest of the Crown, at least for a little while. You don’t have to worry about it. Sit with us; eat. Ease your worries. We’re going to take care of you.”

You took a seat opposite Thor; Loki sat next to you, not, as you expected, next to his brother. It almost felt like they were fencing you in, putting themselves between you and the door. Or between you and anyone who might come through the door.

The food was simple, and looked good, if a little unfamiliar. A bowl of hearty stew, full of vegetables and tasting of herbs your tongue had never met. A little pot of creamy white stuff, topped with orange sauce that turned out to be sweet instead of spicy. A chunk of something that was trying to be bread but was actually dried fish that you were supposed to spread butter on as if it was bread. And a glass of strong cider that you had trouble actually drinking. Alcohol was usually too pricy for you, and so you never drank much.

It was warm, and it was good, and it was what your body, confused by time zones, desperately needed. You ate every bit, even the buttered fish. But you said nothing, not until Thor addressed you directly.

“I know you have had a very rough day, and I know you must be tired and confused, but would you be willing to entertain a few questions?”

What choice did you have? He was right about being tired; the hot food and cider had hit you pretty hard. But it wasn’t like you could just tell him to go stuff it either, could you? You put your customer service face back on.

“Sure, ask away!”

He raised one eyebrow at the fake cheer in your voice, but made no comment on it.

“I’d like to assure you that we keep this place very clean. No dust, unless you go near construction zones. But, if it’s not too uncomfortable, could you tell us why you reacted like that? So we can keep you safer in the future.”

Damn. You should’ve known they wouldn’t let that go. Six months ago, you had been sure he would have an answer for you; now you just didn’t know. Would he think you were crazy too? But he was a god; was it possible to lie to a god?

“I’ll know if you’re lying.” Loki said, as if hearing your thoughts.

“There’s no need for threats.” Thor chided him.

“I wasn’t.”

“If you are comfortable talking about it.” Thor concluded.

“It’s difficult.” You said. “It’s not that I don’t want to; I kinda do, and I have for a long time. But it seems like some great big secret that I can’t bring up, because most people don’t believe me, and the ones that do are sort of paranoid of being thought crazy. Look, something happened about a year and a half ago, except it didn’t, but it did. And I know you probably won’t believe me, but-“

“Half your world turned to dust.” Thor said grimly. “People, plants, animals, everything. And then it all went back to normal, as if nothing happened. But not for you. In the time between the two events, you suffered. You mourned. You struggled and starved. And now you remember, when it seems no one else does.”

Loki stared at you. “That shouldn’t be possible.”

You had gone very still and very pale as Thor spoke out that list of everything you had gone through.

“I knew it.” You whispered. “I knew it. I knew it was real. That many people couldn’t have the same hallucination. I knew you knew something!”

Thor nodded, still looking very serious.

“That’s why I went to the tower in the first place! That’s why I tried to approach you! I knew one of you knew something!”

“But the spell-“ Loki began.

“What happened?” You demanded, excitement overcoming your sleepiness.

“It’s a lengthy tale, if you’re up for it.” Thor warned, but you only nodded in enthusiasm.

“Very well. It begins when the universe does.” Wow, he wasn’t kidding.

“Thor, are you sure this is a good idea?” Loki broke in.

Thor shrugged. “Looks like something went wrong. She’s not supposed to remember, but she does.”

“That spell was cast for a reason.” Loki protested.

“Which do you suppose was worse? Being one of the lives initially lost, or being one of those left behind to live in that broken universe? Do you know what that was like? Being the only one left? I say she deserves an answer. “

Loki rolled his eyes. “No, if you recall, I was dead at the time. Whatever, tell her what you will, but I’ll not be taking responsibility when it blows up in your face.”

“Wait, you…you died? Did you turn to dust too?” That even happened to the gods?

“Not exactly,” He muttered. “It was more of a hand’s on experience.”

“He was very brave.” Thor said.

“I was very foolish.” Loki retorted, but he looked more proud than angry.

“What happened?” You asked again.

“Yes, the story. Directly after this universe came into being, there also spawned a handful of concepts; embodiments of the things that make up the universe and everything in it. These things were given physical forms, shaped into shining gems of incredible power. Wars were fought over them, and with them, but only certain powerful individuals can actually use them. I have a friend who has seen what happens when someone who is too weak tries to handle one. Not pretty, apparently. However, Loki has used two of them before.”

Pride colored those last words, and Loki looked unsure of how to take being bragged about.

“For certain definitions of ‘used’, I suppose.”

“There was someone else who wanted them, a homicidal lunatic, name of Thanos. An absolute waste of space who brought nothing to the universe but mountains of corpses. Twisted. Worthless. Seems like all he could do was destroy. The Chitauri invasion? That was him.”

“That was him.” You pointed at Loki.

“Certain definitions of used.” He repeated.

You looked back and forth between the brothers. “What are you trying to tell me here?”

“He used the Mind Stone.” Thor said. “While at the same time, it used him. It affected everyone around it.”

“Wait, you mean mind control?” You asked, shocked by this revelation. “These things have their own will? Why haven’t you told anyone? Everyone thinks-“

“Do not mistake me.” Loki interrupted. “No matter how much my brother would like to paint me as an innocent in this, I still did what I did. Those were my actions and my decisions. One can very easily be a victim, and be guilty at the same time. Take it as a demonstration of what I am capable of, just not everything that I am.” He sighed, but his expression remained neutral.

“It is however, correct to think that, without Thanos, without the influence of that stone, I don’t think I would have done any of it. But I did, and there is no way to erase that. Do not make of me something I am not. I was the person who did all those things. But I am not now, and will not be again.”

“I don’t know what to think about this.” You said, but internally you were a bit relieved. You hadn’t actually stopped being frightened of him, but it was very reassuring to know that all that malice, all that bigotry and hatred hadn’t all been him. If his words could be trusted, anyway. Thor wasn’t objecting though, so maybe he really was on the level.

“He did take his stand against Thanos though.” Thor continued. “We all did; heroes of Earth, of Asgard, of the stars. And every last one of us failed. Most of us died, either in his quest for the stones, or in the event he caused. He came into possession of all of the stones, which allowed him to reshape the universe as he wanted it to be. “

“Which was…nearly empty?”

“He was a madman. He was obsessed with his savior complex, but his bloodlust was far greater, and I think he forgot how to separate the two. So yes, instead of thinking up ways to change reality for the better, he felt the logical choice was to kill everybody.”

“He had no creativity or finesse, unless he was causing harm.” Loki muttered.

“Now this is the part I really can’t tell you about, which is a shame, because it was amazing. However, because of the forces involved, the fewer people who ever know about it, the better. But we few survivors took our battle to reality itself, and we succeeded. We regained what Thanos took from us, and erased his nightmarish vision of the universe.”

“Before separating the stones and returning them to their proper guardians, the sorcerers among us used them to cast a spell over everything and everyone; that none save those of us involved should have any memory of the event we erased. We wanted to undo that suffering, but we also wanted to prevent mass searches for the stones. We can’t risk it happening again.”

“Then how come I remember?” You asked. There was much more mystery surrounding you right now than you were comfortable with.

“That is an excellent question!” Thor said. “And since you don’t seem to have any answers for us yourself, we will simply have to add it to the pile of things we have to figure out.”

“I would like to have answers too, but right now, I’m so tired.” An involuntary yawn punctuated your words. “Pardon me.”

“Yes, of course.” Thor said. “Loki will take you to bed.”

“Absolutely not!” You screeched.

“Phrasing!” Loki snapped.

Thor looked like he was having a very hard time not laughing, which you didn’t appreciate at all. That was a terrifying prospect, and one you were not in the least willing to entertain. Loki looked perturbed as well, so at least you were both on the same page.

“I’m sorry, ____, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that!” A little laughter did escape him, fueling your annoyance. It wasn’t a laughing matter. Neither of these men had better start getting ideas. Just because they were divine rulers didn’t mean they could take liberties. You still had rights. Didn’t you?

“Buffoon.” Loki grumbled. “Come. I’ll see you to your room.”

You got to have your own room? That sounded promising. You followed along behind him, sleepy and quiet, swimming in the events of the day. It was all so much to take in, but maybe sleeping on it would help. Loki led you back to the set of rooms you’d earlier had your bath in, letting you inside and addressing the young man standing guard at the door. You couldn’t understand what they were saying, but the young man seemed mildly confused and upset. He kept shooting you curious looks, and eventually he patted you reassuringly on the shoulder, and nodded at you. Then he went into the smaller of the two bedrooms, gathered his things, and left. He even waved at you on his way out, as if he was trying to convey no hard feelings without being able to actually speak to you.

“Uh…Your Highness? Did I just kick that guy out of his room?” You asked, feeling very guilty.

“No.” Loki assured you. “These rooms are mine, and I decide who may use them, and for how long. There is room for him in our guardhouse, it was just more convenient for him to be close by. Now it is more convenient for you to be here.”

“Because we don’t know how far apart we can be, or for how long. I get it.” There wasn’t much in the room; a bed, a desk with a chair, a small dresser, and one window. The floor and walls were bare, and there was one lamp on the desk, but no other lights. Well, you didn’t need much right now, and you owned practically nothing here, not even the shirt on your back, so this was much better than you had feared it would be.

“I feel like we can probably have a respectable distance between us, just not miles, and certainly not an entire ocean. However, I also feel like we should sleep closer together. Partly for your own safety, and partly because it seems to me that the focus of this draining sickness was our mutual dreams. “

He took a seat in the chair while you crawled into the plain little bed.

“Will you tell me about them?” He asked. “I know we were both having dreams, and I think we were connected through them, but you said yours were nightmares. Mine were not. I wonder about the differences.”

“Ugh. They weren’t anything complicated, but they were always the same. There was this big blankness that I just wanted to sink into so that I could finally rest, but you wouldn’t let me. You just kept dragging me away, and you wouldn’t let me sleep. You were scary, and it was torture, not being able to rest.”

He nodded slowly, writing something down in a small notebook you were sure he hadn’t had just a second before.

“Mine were…similar, but the perspective was different. That void was death, and I was compelled to keep you from it.”

“Do you think we’ll still dream?” You asked.

“Only one way to find out.”

“Right. Can you, uh…”

“Oh. Yes, of course.” He left, closing the door behind him. You might have heard the lock turn, but you were already drifting off.

                                                                      *********

The void beckoned you, a promise of rest and freedom, but now you knew it might not be as benign as it seemed. Loki clutched your arm, frightening with his horns and cold eyes, but now you knew he might not be as malign as he seemed. You spent the rest of your dream there, between two deceivers, not sure which one to choose.